What Happened to Kids TV?

Even though my girls are getting older, it seems that Disney and Nickelodeon are the most-watched television channels in our house. I can't complain too much; Lord knows they are better than a lot of the stuff out there that teens are watching.

But I have noticed over the last several years some interesting cycles in children's television. Here is a sample of some of the newest shows these channels offer kids these days.

"KC Undercover" -- a girl who is a secret spy, which all the required gadgets spies have
"Best Friends Whenever" -- two girls who can travel through time
"The Thundermans" -- a family of superheroes
"Henry Danger" -- a kid who becomes a superhero's sidekick
"Talia in the Kitchen" -- a girl who has magical spices she can use in her food
"Dog with a Blog" -- a family with a talking dog (this one was just cancelled, as was . . . )
"The Haunted Hathaways -- a family of ghosts living with another family (nevertheless . . . )

Notice a pattern here? These kids all have "powers", magical abilities that normal kids don't have. "Wizards of Waverly Place" probably kicked off this wave several years ago. Interesting . . .

Now, a few years ago, I was seeing a different trend (one that still is bleeding over a bit into today; some of these shows are still on):

"Austin and Ally" -- a couple of kids who become famous pop singers
"Liv and Maddie" -- a famous TV actress comes home to live with her family again
"Shake It Up" -- a couple of girls get gigs dancing on a TV show
"ANT Farm" -- a class of kids with unusual talents, led by a singer/musician
"Victorious" -- a school for the performing arts
"iCarly" -- a couple kids with a popular webshow
"Big Time Rush" -- a boys' band trying to make it big
"Sonny with a Chance" -- kids on a TV sketch comedy show
"Hannah Montana" -- which probably started this trend

Yep -- a bunch of shows about kids becoming famous performers.

So, where are the shows about regular kids living regular lives? There are a few, and they kind of stand out. "Girl Meets World" is probably the biggest one these days. Except for the fact that it is overtly and quite intentionally sappy and preachy, it may be one of the best shows on these channels right now.

Very likely, this isn't news to anyone. Kids shows have probably used these themes for years. But then I look at some of my girls' favorite kids' shows from the past:

"Drake and Josh" -- an all-time favorite, about two relatively normal kids (yes, Drake has a band, but it's not the center of the show)
"Zoey 101" -- bad acting and writing, but again, pretty regular (albeit rich) kids
"Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide" -- regular kids surviving middle school
"Lizzie McGuire" -- my eldest STILL watches old episodes of this at night and loves it because the characters are genuine and real.

I don't know that there is a particular point I want to make here. Just observations -- mainly that writing a good TV show for kids must be pretty difficult because it's not often done very well.

On Princesses and Mustaches

I haven't blogged in over a week (if you haven't noticed this, no offense taken . . . I suppose). I've been helping direct a two-week drama camp at Crystal Sea Drama Company. A traditional melodrama, with olios, a curtain raiser, and lot of costume changes. I haven't had much else to think about for the past two weeks, so this morning you get:

THOUGHTS ON DRAMA CAMP

- I was never taught how to direct; I just figured it out as I went. This week, I got to watch two directors at work and learn from them. Mrs. Miller, the theater's artistic director, is a stickler for detail, authenticity, and consistency – three of my weak areas. And she brought in a friend one evening to help the students with their melodramatic flair – I loved watching her help the actors think through their motivations and subtext and all. I will be a better director after having observed these two ladies at work.

- For the evening's "curtain raiser", we adapted the first play I wrote for the homeschool drama group in Sioux City: "The King and His Dancing Princesses." Now, that production had twenty-four actors, almost all newbies to the stage. For this production, we had six (after one girl got sick and had to drop out). SIX. I learned flexibility and adaptation this week. You wouldn't believe what these six kiddos are pulling off.

- I have a new appreciation for "techies". I've never really had techies before – I mean, I've had people willing to create some basic sets, find props and costumes . . . but a theater "techie" is a breed to themselves. There is a lovely young lady interning at CSDC this year; Mrs. Miller and I gave her a yard-long list of things to do to prepare for this show (everything from "take the sticker off the bottom of the cracker box" to "paint thirty signs for the sign girl" to "build five portable headboards"). She showed up every day and worked all day, systematically ticking off the items on the list – and did so with a smile and great enthusiasm for her work. What a gal.

- I'm so grateful to have this place for my own daughter to nurture her passions and talents. Last year at this time, she was doing the Shakespeare drama camp, her first introduction to CSDC, and she was nervous, shy, and not quite feeling like she fit in yet. This year, she's confident, loud, and right in the center of it all. Love seeing that.

If you're in San Antonio, swing by CSDC this weekend for Drama and Dessert. Eat some triple chocolate cake, take pictures in the photo booth, throw popcorn at the villains with their handlebar mustaches, and giggle at my silly princesses. You'll be amazed at what a bunch of dedicated kids (and two frazzled directors) can pull together in two weeks.

Burnin' Rubber, Baby

You don't have to know me too terribly well, I don't think, to recognize that the local drag races is not a likely spot to find me on a Saturday night. And yet, there I was. In fact, there we all were – my family of four. Hubby seems determined to give our girls a well-rounded education. "We should go to the races sometime," he said. So we went.

We had no idea what to expect. The website was pretty vague; we weren't even clear about what time the festivities started. We showed up at about 6:30 and parked in the grass, as instructed, so we wouldn't be mistaken for a racer. 

Cuz this was apparently a "run what ya brung" night, as my FB friend called it. Anybody can race any vehicle they want. For an extra $8, we could've added our van to the mix of competitors. It amused us that the woman at the gate asked to clarify that we were just there to watch. Did she really expect us to race our old minivan? Surely she was joking.

So. My first impression of the San Antonio Raceway? Burning rubber STINKS. Phew.

There were only a smattering of people in the stands, and frankly, our family seemed to be one of the most animated of the clusters, due mainly to the great classic rock music playing over the loud speakers. (Just take those old records off the shelf! . . . We will, we will rock you . . . More than a feelin' . . .) And probably to the fact that nobody was sitting close enough to us to pay any attention to what we said or did or how clearly ignorant we were of the proceedings.

Our youngest spent the first half hour or so wanting to be the announcer – which would have been hilarious considering she doesn't know a darn thing about cars. "And now, folks, we have a . . . pretty little red thing in the Napa Auto Parts lane, and a black car with some contraption on the hood in the other lane . . . yeah, I don't know what that is, but it looks like it might make the car go fast. On a side note, you can see Yours Truly in a production at Crystal Sea Drama Company August 1^st and 2^nd; buy your tickets now!" The rest of the time she focused on her eerily accurate predictions of racers' times when they crossed the finish line. Wish that was a marketable skill.

Our oldest admired the purple flames painted on two of the racing vehicles (one of which pretty much smoked its competition every time). She also got quite riled up every time a race between a Chevy and a Ford was announced, rooting wildly for the Ford (after asking her father, "Which one's the Ford?"). She also got tickled imagining her sister running down the track with a dog chasing her and spent ten minutes or so cracking herself up over that.

A few cars had little streams of steam shooting out of their hoods at the starting line. The announcers used the term "purging" to refer to them. Hubby googled that on his phone: something about . . . nitrous . . . something . . . I just labeled them the "bulimic" cars. We'll figure out the details when we're studying chemistry next year or something.

We enjoyed some interesting t-shirts. "F-- Your No Skateboarding Sign" (uncensored) stood directly in front of us for quite a while. (Wish I could  channel that passion into a more meaningful cause.) Another gentleman informed us in huge letters across his front, "I LOVE BEER," prompting my husband to threaten to wear a shirt next time saying "I LOVE PINOT NOIR AND A SMALL SLICE OF CAMEMBERT." We would probably be the only ones amused at that.

In the end, we spent two hours (in remarkable pleasant weather for south Texas in July) watching cars drive as fast as they could down that quarter-mile stretch – and a couple motorcycles, one of which gave me heart palpatations when it crossed the finish line going 150 mph (that's insanely dangerous, people!!). And I was amazed at how fast the time went and how entertained we were. I even got used to the burnt rubber smell. Gettin' a little less prissy all the time, people.

The Cornelius Decision

So, who else is watching "A.D.", the TV series? I rarely read any comments about it on FB, even from my rabid Christian friends, so I wonder.

It hasn't grabbed me and addicted me (like other shows I'm having to wait until the fall to see again . . . grrr), but it's interesting. Some folks are probably upset about the "extra-biblical" material, angles on the story that were not in the original text. The traveling Ethopian eunuch was involved in a plot against the Romans? James arranged with Caiaphas for the Jesus-followers to be accepted into the temple again? And John the disciple as a black man . . . I understand the desire for ethnic diversity here, but that's really stretching things.

I'm not necessarily bothered by these angles, though. It concerns me a little that the biblically illiterate will watch this and think this is all in the Bible, but because none of it that I've seen yet is contradictory to the important message and spirit of the text, I'm okay with it so far. In fact, as a Bible student and script writer, I'm pretty fascinated by the background stories they are supposing here, based on the sketchy details we are given in the book.

We just caught up yesterday on the episode we missed on vacation. And this was an episode I've been waiting for. From the beginning, when Pilate sent his top centurion out to do some violence and called him Cornelius, I've been waiting for the soldier's conversion -- because I knew this HAD to be that Cornelius. And it was. Great idea to have such a crucial character to the gospel story involved in everything from the start, even though in the Bible he pops up pretty randomly and isn't heard from again.

So, yesterday, Cornelius met Jesus. And he is then immediately called in by Pilate to lead his squadron of soldiers to bring the golden statue of Caligula into the Jewish temple . . . and to kill every Jew that tries to stop them. He's a soldier; he's been given orders, orders he must obey or he will be killed himself. Peter asks him what he will do. Cornelius responds that he will pray that the Holy Spirit shows him what to do. Good answer.

So, Cornelius marches his troops with the offensive statue to the gates of the temple, where he politely asks (there's a change right there) the high priest to step aside so he can fulfill his orders. In answer, Caiaphas offers his throat -- kill me if you must, I won't allow you to desecrate God's temple. Cornelius must decide which master he will obey: his earthly master or his heavenly master. And he must decide in a very public way, with EVERYONE watching. He hesitates.

And in that moment, the mob behind him attacks his squadron, and he is left alone kneeling and praying with his new Christian brothers, while the battle rages without his participation. And his soldiers don't seem to notice.

The episode ended before we found out if there will be consequences for Cornelius not obeying Pilate's orders. I suspect there will be. But isn't it interesting that this episode aired now? An episode that deals with the question of what do I do when doing my job, when obeying governmental authority, goes directly against what I know is God's will?

I'm anxious to see how this will play out in "A.D." I'm even more anxious to see how it will play out in my country.

My Mom's Review of "A Chorus Line"

I saw something on Facebook about April 16^th being the 40^th anniversary of the first performance of A Chorus Line. Ah. A Chorus Line. There’s a musical.

The national tour of A Chorus Line came to Wichita sometime when I was 11 or 12. I know because I was still taking ballet, and everyone at the studio was positively raving about this show, which I’d never heard of. The dancing! Oh, the dancing! It was fantastic! You HAVE to see this show!

So, I talked my mother into taking me to see the show. To this day, I’m a little ashamed that I put her through that. Of course, never having heard anything about the show (other than, “The dancing! The dancing!”), I’m not completely to blame. I had no idea the storylines and subject matter and suggestive language we would be subjected to. I remember being afraid to look at my mother until it was all over. The whole time, I was waiting for her to decide this had finally crossed a line and remove me from the premises.

She never did. She didn’t say a whole lot about it, actually. I worked up the guts in the car on the way home to ask her what she thought about the show. “Well,” she hesitated, “I like that it showed a lot of different kind of people living a lot of different kinds of lives.

“And that’s what I didn’t like about it, too.”

My mother. The queen of sweetness and diplomacy.

Now that I’m mature and all, I’d love to ask her more. For one thing, I wonder what she told my dad about the show when we got home. I can’t imagine that she owned up to the real content matter that she had subjected me to, because I’m pretty sure he would have taken me home at intermission and would have thought she should have, too.

I also kind of wonder if she could have articulated even more what she meant by the review she gave me. If she could explain what she liked about the variety of lifestyles shown. Why is that a good thing? It’s not because she enjoyed hearing about all those lifestyles – that, I’m confident, is what she didn’t like about it. But could she articulate what was good about hearing all that?

I’m not sure she could, but I think instinctively she knew that there is benefit to being aware of not just the sin in the world, but of the situations that lead to sin, of the grief and brokenness that comes out of sin. I think there was something in her that understood the dangers of a Christian cocooning and accusing rather than listening and loving.

So much you miss when you lose your mom at 31.

Yeah, We Could Make Movies

So, I haven't blogged for a while. Science fair, spring break starting, family in town . . . you know how it goes. We're on spring break this week, but I still won't have an excess of time, because the San Antonio Christian Worldview Film Festival.

Our school was given two free student passes, and our principal offered them to my daughter, the budding young actress who loves to edit video. (The festival organizers graciously allowed me to use the second pass so she wouldn't be going alone.) It's a five day event: two and a half days of workshops and two and a half days of film festival. We get into the whole shebang.

I wasn't sure how excited to get about this at first. For one thing, this is my spring break. I have all sorts of stuff I need to get done this week -- lesson planning, curriculum writing, costume shopping, plus just all the family stuff that gets put off until "I have some extra time." Going to this thing all day for five days would really kill my Spring Break productivity and make me scramble for the next several weeks.

But I also wondered how beneficial it would really be for my daughter. If these workshops are for
serious film-makers, how much would she get out of it? She may not have the base knowledge or background to even understand what they are talking about.

Never fear. "Film-Making 101" with Stacie Graber to the rescue.

Our first workshop yesterday. Perfect. Everything we needed to know about the basic process of putting a real movie together. Oh, my goodness. Are we both psyched now!

The second workshop was more of an acting workshop (Exploring the Spiritual Lives of your Characters), so it had immediate use for us also. And it was also inspiring.

I have always had in the back of my mind that my daughter might enjoy something in the area of film-making someday. But not until yesterday did I realize how doable this is for her NOW. How much potential there is for her to use these skills and interests of hers TODAY. Or soon, at least. I'm listening to the speakers and thinking, "She could make a short film to submit next year."

Next year. Holy cow. That's exciting!

What's more, I'm thinking, I would enjoy this. Not every part of it, but certainly the writing. Certainly the directing. Certainly the whole create-the-vision-for-this-thing part.

Daughter and I talked on the way there yesterday about how conferences like this are often a lot of "rah-rah" to get people excited about their topic . . . and how susceptible she and I are to the "rah-rah." We are easily excited. But really, I think this is something worth our getting excited about.

So, "rah-rah"! Let's see what comes of this.

Watching With Your Brain On

The eldest's boyfriend was with us over the holidays and my girls introduced him to "Once Upon a Time" -- and got him properly addicted, like the rest of us are. Thanks to Hulu, as of yesterday, our family is caught up with the rest of the world and ready for new episodes to begin airing March 1st. Counting the days.

My 9th grade Bible class had an interesting discussion last week about entertainment and how we decide what is okay for us to watch as believers and what is not. An important verse we focused on was 1 Corinthians 10:31: So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. Whatever we do must glorify God -- that is, it must proclaim who He is and the greatness of who He is. 

So, can we glorify God by watching a TV show that was not made to glorify God? Well, maybe.

The key point in our lesson was the need to be an active viewer and not a passive one. Most people (believers and nonbelievers) seem to use TV and movies to veg out to -- they just sit and absorb mindlessly, not thinking much about what is entering their minds. This is a problem. Because even shows that ARE made to glorify God will be imperfect and may have content that we should not be absorbing mindlessly. (There are even stories in the Bible that would be dangerous to absorb mindlessly.) We must engage our brains at all times when they are being influenced by narrative and images.

For example, I've talked with one of my daughters about some of the recurring themes in "Once Upon a Time," such as I will always find you. This is a motto for Snow White and Prince Charming, two of the main characters, who throughout their adventurous relationship are always being torn apart and seeking each other again. Doesn't this phrase bring to mind Jesus' parable of the lost sheep? God never abandons His own, never lets them stay lost; He will always find you. These two very imperfect characters are exemplifying one of God's most glorious attributes: his unconditional, never-failing love.

Another recurring theme: Magic always has a price. (Although I think I've only heard this phrase applied to what the show refers to as "black magic" -- "white magic" or good magic never seems to be as costly. Nevertheless . . . ) Whenever someone seeks out a magical solution to a problem, a solution that involves disrupting the natural order of things, they are always warned that it will cost them something. And yes, looking for answers outside of God's order and will . . . this would be sin. And yes, it always has a price.

But the prominent theme right now in the series seems to be the question of a person's nature. Evil is not born -- it's made, we have been told throughout the series. And we are always treated to the back story in every evil character's life, the things that happened that turned them bad. They weren't always this way; something or someone messed them up. And this is something I appreciate in the show. I have always taught my daughters to remember when they are wronged by somebody that this person is probably acting out the wrongs that have been done to them over the years. Sinners need our compassion more than our condemnation.

But the reason for this is because "there but for the grace of God go I." We are ALL sinners; we are all wrongdoers; we all have the capacity for great evil within us. Even the good guys in the show have done some terrible things. Snow White, the ultimate goody-two-shoes, murdered the Queen of Hearts. Even she has darkness in her heart. 

The big question now is can they change? Regina, the evil queen, is trying desperately to be a better person. Mr. Gold is trying desperately to appear to be a better person while still hanging on to his power. Can they actually change? Or are they doomed to the fate written for them by the Author of the storybook? 

It remains to be seen how Kitsis and Horowitz, the show's creators, will answer that question. But while watching, we remember that we already have the answer to the question. We know how people can change. We know the Author and the means he provided to rescue His fallen people. When we engage our minds and "have a conversation" with the show as we watch it (as opposed to mindlessly absorbing), we remind ourselves, and anyone listening, of what the truth really is, of who God really is and who we really are. We are making God known -- glorifying God. 

There's a fine line, of course, but I don't think I'm rationalizing my addiction here. I genuinely do find that watching this show helps me clarify truth in my mind. I find this with some other shows that fellow Christians object to, as well -- Harry Potter, for example. Paul points out in one of his letters that we cannot separate ourselves entirely from godlessness as long as we are living in the world. We must learn how to engage with it in a godly way. 

I hope I'm teaching my girls that. Turning off the TV is easy (and at times necessary), but turning on your brain is much more difficult -- and much more important a skill to learn, I think. The world we live in doesn't have an "off" button. It requires us to engage our brains.

Reality TV Christians

Apparently John Luke Robertson is engaged. And apparently he and his fiancee are staying abstinent until marriage.

My first reaction: I would never want to put myself in a position where I felt such information needed to be shared with the world. I have NO desire for fame.

My second reaction: it saddens me to no end that being abstinent until marriage is a big enough deal to be a news story.

Seriously.

A friend was telling me a while back that, at the church we attended together a couple moves ago, most of the young people we loved and respected have no qualms at all about living together and having sex before they get married. None at all. Christian young people. It's just no big deal.

I cannot tell you how sad that makes me.

I suppose I would expect that of unbelievers, but even in them, it makes me sad. It's one thing when you have an ideal in your head to save yourself for your wedding day, but you fail to live up to your ideal in the end. That's a sad thing, too. But it's quite another to go into your dating years without even having the mindset that saving yourself is a desirable thing worth the effort. Without feeling any sense of shame or guilt AT ALL about crossing a line that the God you claim to worship and submit to has clearly drawn for you. Clearly.

How in the world did we get here? How did the church manage to raise a generation who has so little regard for the word of their God?

Ugh. If I think about this too much, it really discourages me.

So back to John Luke. I haven't seen "Duck Dynasty" for a while -- my girls kind of got off of that kick. They're more interested in the Duggar crew these days and their various courtships, engagements, marriages, and baby-birthing.

I don't know what to think about the Duggars. If nothing else, they at least are putting some important topics out in the public eye to be discussed. Like modesty, healthy relationships, and such. And for the most part, they don't seem really pushy about things.

They just seem annoying. Are friends going to hate me for saying that? The Duggars annoy me. They're the kind of people that, if I knew them in real life, I would admire for some things but would avoid having to spend too much time with them because they just flat out turn me off.

Maybe they're different in real life -- maybe they would seem a little more genuine and natural than they do on TV. I can't imagine living your life in the public eye like they do: staging conversations and situations for the ever-present cameras (because yes, I have no doubt most of those are "staged", even if they are conversations and situations that would have happened for real without the cameras there).

For instance, when Jessa's boyfriend (I forget his name) approached Jim Bob to ask for permission to propose. They did this on camera. I don't believe for a moment that Jim Bob walked into that room without knowing that this discussion was going to happen. It was awkward; it was weird; it was a personal moment that did not need to be acted out for the world to watch. And it annoyed me that they did act it out for the world to watch.

I suppose I should be happy that there are confessing Christians out there living a Christian life in the public eye as a testimony. But I'm not sure that I am. I think I'd rather there were more confessing Christians living a good Christian life in their homes, neighborhoods, and workplaces for their friends to see as a testimony.

And dear friends, that would most definitely include saving yourself for marriage. Sigh.

Weekend Wonderings

And it's Monday morning again. And again, I don't know what to blog about.

We had a busy weekend, and I could tell you all about that, but frankly, I know most of you don't care. I mean, okay -- you care . . . you're not cold, heartless people. But you don't want to hear the details of our social life.

And you probably don't want to hear this, either. But what I'm going to write about is a couple little things I found myself wondering over the weekend.

We went to the Texas Renaissance Festival on Saturday, and I found myself wondering about the people who do this kind of thing on a regular basis. First of all, can you really make a living at this stuff, or is this a hobby that you support with a boring "real job" the rest of the year?

But also, what kind of person is willing to take on a persona like that and live that way every weekend? I mean, I'm an actress; I understand the fun of being a different person for a while. But some of these are odd folks, my friends. Have you been to a Renaissance Fair? Interesting, yes -- entertaining often -- but also pretty freaky.

I've thought before that my ideal retirement job would be to volunteer at a historical site somewhere, giving the tours and informational talks in character. I would love that. But were I to do that, I would not choose the type of character these folks were playing. This had nothing to do with history -- this had to do with having an excuse to be outrageous and outlandish and get legally paid to do so.

I also found myself wondering, if an actual person from the Renaissance jumped forward in time and showed up at one of these events, would they recognize anything? Would they be just as freaked out by the weirdos? Or was the Renaissance really as weird as all this?

And weren't knights and jousts from the middle ages? A few centuries before the Renaissance? Does anyone at these events really care about the timelines here?

Anyway. On to other wonderings from the weekend.

Yesterday, our school held a fall festival to raise money. Adding on the secondary school has proved rather costly (we have a new 9th grade class this year and will add classes as they move up). A high school is much more expensive than an elementary school. And a brand new high school needs to prove itself before it gets enough students enrolled to support the program through tuition. Thus the need for a lot of fund-raisers this year.

Here's what my husband suggested and what I keep thinking: there are some incredibly wealthy people out there. Lots of them, really. People who could give up the several thousand dollars it takes to run this secondary school for a year and never miss it. And some of those people have a real passion for education. Some of them have a real passion for the faith, and for young people being raised up and trained as warriors for the kingdom.

There is a person out there somewhere who would love nothing more than to pay the operating expenses for this school for a few years until the enrollment is such that it can support itself. We just don't know how to find that person. How do you find that person?

This I wonder.

Fredericksburg and Shops

Last Saturday, our family drove the one-hour jaunt up to Fredericksburg, one of the many little towns around here that we keep hearing we need to visit. There happened to be a Food and Wine Festival going on -- we didn't even know until we got there, but we didn't participate in that anyway.

We took a peek in an old, old Catholic church right by where we parked (I love looking inside old churches). We spent an hour or so at the Pioneer Museum -- well-kept, but similar to other such museums we've been to. Then we walked up and down main street seeing the sights . . . which were mainly people and shops.

Lots of shops. What's the word for the kind of shops I'm talking about? Maybe it's "specialty shops". Cute little stores packed to the ceiling with cute little things. There was a dog specialty shop we stopped at to see a million and one unnecessary and costly dog accessories. There was a Christmas shop where we saw five million and one beautiful and excessive Christmas decorations. Seven blocks or so of such places, lining both sides of the street. Plus all the German biergartens and chocolate shops.

It was a cute little town. I kept thinking how twenty years ago, I would have just eaten this up. I loved "specialty shops." I could have spent all day long looking at the items in these stores. I probably wouldn't have bought much, but I would have wanted to -- or I would have come away with ideas for things I wanted to try to make myself for cheaper.

Because I used to be a crafter, or at least fancy myself as one. I still have a stash of craft supplies in storage left over from those days, just in case I need something again. I loved the idea of making some cute little item to beautify my house with my personal touches. I often said I'd rather decorate my home with something I made that is of slightly lower quality but would have meaning to me, than with something fabulous that I just plunked down some money for.

There's probably a remnant of that sentiment still in me somewhere. But not much. Somewhere along the way, I lost the urge to make little things. Even more so, I lost the urge to HAVE little things sitting around my house looking pretty. As my mother was known to say, "It's just more to dust."

So, walking through these stores made me examine myself and my new set of values. I'd like to think there's something somewhat . . . I don't know . . . philosophical about this change in me. I looked at the stuff in there for sale and thought how astonishing these seven blocks would be to someone from a third world country. Or even to someone from this country a hundred and fifty years ago. My daughter is reading a biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder, and looking through the Christmas store, I remembered the Christmases she described in her books -- getting one small toy item and a candy stick that they sucked a little bit every day for weeks to make it last. The Christmas feast that would hardly seem like a hearty meal for some of us. I don't remember her mentioning decorations at all.

Laura would have walked through this Christmas store with her jaw on her chest. The very idea that people could have as many Christmas decorations as they do and still walk through this place wanting even more.

When there are people not eating. When there are people dying of curable diseases. When there are children who can't read. I've just lost my appetite for more stuff in my life when there are so many uses for my money that could actually make an eternal difference in humanity.

But then again, maybe it's really only about not having more to dust.

Mommy/Daughter Time

Hubby has been traveling a lot on business lately, so I'm spending a lot of with my daughters. And as much as we miss Hubby, I'm enjoying some new things with my girls. For instance:

- Once Upon A Time -- Oh, my goodness! This is, like, our new obsession. I remember when this TV show premiered, I read a review and thought, Hmm. That sounds interesting. But not interesting enough to add another weekly required viewing activity to my life, so I forgot about it. But as the girls get older, we have a much more difficult time finding TV shows that are entertaining for all of us that are also appropriate age-wise for all of us . . . and "Once" hits the spot.

We're watching the first three seasons on Netflix, and I'm so glad we are. It would drive me insane if I had to wait an entire week (or more) for the conclusion of each episode's cliffhanger. This show is FASCINATING. How fun would it have been to write this! Figuring out how to tie all these different fairy tale characters together. We are loving, loving, loving this show.

- Dance class -- This is a brand new one. The eldest and I have been bouncing around the idea of checking out adult dance classes at a dance school a couple minutes from our house. So this week, we finally took the plunge. We got to sample all the class in one week for $20: Hip Hop on Monday, Jazz on Wednesday, and Ballet last night. Walking is painful today, as you might understand. It's been a long time! I didn't realize until last night how much I miss my Sioux City dance class friends.

I think we're going to stick to the Ballet on Thursdays. More our speed (even my daughter preferred it, to my surprise). And the nice thing was, last night, we were the only students there, so we get basically a private lesson.

- New homemade dishes -- My eldest has taken on the duty of cooking some of our family's meals. And this has been an adventure because she is trying to eat more healthy stuff, so we're all having to eat her new experimental healthy dishes. But a few have been hits. She discovered a veggie burger recipe that just isn't that bad . . . I would almost call it good. She made a veggie fajita that I really enjoyed. But the best one yet: she found a recipe for homemade lo mein that is just like what you get in restaurants. Oh, my! SO good!

-Walking the dog -- Now that some semblance of fall is falling on southern Texas (some semblance . . . kind of . . . I miss fall . . . ), it is getting cool enough that the family is more interested when I say, "Who wants to go with the dog and me on a W-A-L-K?" (The spelling is for the dog's benefit; the minute he recognizes the word, he dances like a maniac with impatience until we're out the door and it makes us nuts.) These days, the neighbors have fall decorations up -- lots of scarecrows and ghosts -- and it has been a hoot to watch the mutt staring these creatures down, trying to figure them out.

Sigh! We won't have both girls with us for these moments for too many more years. Gotta treasure these days while they're here.

A Eulogy to Saturday Morning Cartoons

I was informed of lamentable news this weekend. ("Lament" is one of my Freshmen's vocabulary words -- glad I chose it -- it's quite useful.) Apparently this past Saturday morning was the first Saturday morning in fifty years where a network television station did not broadcast Saturday morning cartoons.

Saturday morning cartoons are dead. Let us all observe a moment of silence for the end of an era.

Watching cartoons on Saturday morning was a defining characteristic of my childhood years. Every other day of the week, my mother would have to come in and wake me up. But for some reason, on Saturday morning, my body consistently knew when it was almost 7am and woke me up of its own accord. I never overslept.

As I recall, the first show I watched at 7am was the "Laff-a-Lympics" -- a show that had all the various Hanna Barbera cartoon characters divided into three teams (the Scooby Doobies, the Yogi Yahooeys, and the Really Rottens) who competed in Olympic-style events. It was corny, and I loved it.

Another favorite was the Bugs Bunny show (sometimes the Bugs and Daffy show, sometimes the Bugs and Tweety show . . . ) with its catchy theme song: "Overture . . . cut the lights . . . ."  Scooby-Doo, of course, and its later variations with Scrappy Doo and with celebrity guest stars. I still hear the voices of the gang when they recognized this week's celebrity:  "[gasp] It's Mama Cass!" (Yes, Mama Cass was a guest star on a Scooby Doo cartoon. My introduction to the Mamas and the Papas.)

Bill Cosby did Fat Albert, which wasn't one of my favorites, but I still watched it. Another unforgettable theme song, which my husband pulls out and sings once in a while. "Na, na, na -- gonna have a good ti-i-i-ime . . . "

Super Friends, with Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman and Robin, and Aquaman at the Justice League Headquarters. Oh yeah.

Captain Caveman. Jabberjaw. Speed Buggy. Hong Kung Phooey. Grape Ape. Oh, my -- GRAPE APE, people.

There were some live action shows that I like, too. The Harlem Globetrotters show -- with funny bald guy Curly. Isis. Bigfoot and Wild Boy. Electrowoman and Dynagirl (no lie -- I'm sure if I saw the reruns I would be horrified at their awfulness, but I so loved them at the time).

And, of course, the greatest Saturday morning invention of all time: Schoolhouse Rock. Brilliance. I still can't say the Preamble to the Constitution -- I have to sing it. Somebody made Schoolhouse Rock into a stage show, and I heard that when they began, "We the People . . . ," the audience stood and sang along with patriotic tears rolling down their face. I would have done that, too.

Saturday morning was an escape. By the late elementary years, my school weeks were difficult. Successful as I was academically, I felt like a social outcast in school. I didn't feel liked, and I didn't like myself much either. I dragged myself through the week, waiting for the few hours on Saturday morning that I could lose myself in being a kid and forget the pains of growing up.

No more Saturday morning cartoons. My kids feel no loss. Yet I grieve.

Disconnecting

So, I'm gainfully employed now, and this job thing is cutting into my Facebook time. I've turned off my mobile data on my phone so I won't rack up time without realizing it when I'm away from home – that means I don't get Facebook notifications while I'm at school. And when I'm on my laptop there, I'm doing schoolwork and, frankly, don't even think about checking Facebook (and when I do, I feel guilty doing so while I'm on the clock).

And you know what? I don't miss it that much.

I really don't. No offense, my beloved Facebook friends, but I can get through several hours without wondering what you might be doing, or reading articles you might be linking, or liking pictures you might be posting. I realize this shouldn't be astonishing news, but judging from my computer behavior this summer, you'd think otherwise.

And you know what else? I actually feel better when I'm not on Facebook so much. I thought FB was a way for me to relax and veg out, but I feel MORE relaxed when I haven't been on. My brain feels better. I feel more in touch with the world when I'm not all virtually connected.

But you know what else else? When I get home and sit on the sofa to rest a minute, I still immediately get out the laptop, click into Facebook, and waste more time scanning my newsfeed than I'm willing to admit here.

Is that not crazy? What the heck's wrong with me?

A friend posted a blog the other day (yes, on FACEBOOK – sue me) that really hit home. The author wrote about her coming to realize that “me-time” is actually more bad for her than good. One reason: it put her in a frame of mind where the activities of her everyday life were a burden that she deserved a regular escape from – not the way you want to feel about the place where God has placed you. But another reason was, she realized that her activities of choice for her me-time (social media, primarily) actually didn't relax her at all.

I think that's what I'm discovering. The things that I do on my laptop to "unwind" don't actually do a good job of that. Social media, games, none of it.

Now, that doesn't mean I need to give up Facebook entirely. As I've said in an earlier post, there are other valid reasons for me to do the social media thing; it has more to offer me than relaxation or entertainment. But I think I need to be more honest with myself about why I'm getting on when I get on, and then stick to that purpose. I need to kick the habit that makes it my automatic go-to when I'm feeling a little stress, because I now realize that Facebook does not relieve that stress, as much as I deceive myself into thinking it does.

And my first step may be to delete the Facebook app on my phone so I don't get notifications all day long that pull me in. Deep breath. I can do this. And you can do it with me, friends. 

How to View Like a Christian

Our youngest is struggling with a decision. This summer, in her copious free time, she began watching and loving a certain TV show, a show with great characters, excellent writing, witty humor . . . but with very inappropriate storylines. (I wasn't sure about her watching the show either, but I didn't stop her. I freely confess my failure in this area as a mother: over the years, I have done a terrible job of policing my children's TV time, and I still do.)

Now, she is feeling convicted that she shouldn't be watching this show. And let me start by saying I'm incredibly proud of her hearing and responding to this conviction completely on her own without her parents' interference at all. But she has come to me for advice on the matter, and I'm trying to figure out how to advise her. The easy answer, of course, is to tell her to turn it off. But the easy answer isn't always the best answer. I don't just want her to obey me today; I want her to develop wisdom and discernment on this issue that will carry her throughout her life.

The reality is, there is very little around in the way of video entertainment in our day that has nothing objectionable in it. If we eliminate everything that doesn't conform to our Christian beliefs, we are, for all practical purposes, eliminating everything. I know people who have taken that route and would promote it to others; I just don't think that's realistic for our family. Cocooning yourself from the world is cozy, but your salt and light are trapped in your cocoon with you.

These concerns came up as I assembled my reading list for my Freshman English class this year. Most of the classics one needs to read in high school English classes are not “Christian” literature, and they include decidedly unchristian elements. Odysseus cheats on his wife. Shakespeare's comedies have a lot of bawdy humor. The violence and cruelty in A Tale of Two Cities is painful to read at times.

But part of our being made in the image of God is that we approach life in terms of narrative, and Story is a necessary way of making sense of our world. One of the complaints I have about most “Christian films” I've seen is that, in a well-meaning attempt to not glorify sin, they have sugar-coated the stories to the point of making them unreal and therefore meaningless. They are just as bad as the shows that DO glorify sin. None of them are real, and so none of them serve the purposes that God intends narrative to serve in our lives.

I'll be teaching my students this year that almost all of the stories we read will have an element of truth in them – but it is always incomplete truth, truth that needs to be informed by scripture. We can't avoid storylines with ungodly elements because the world we live in is an ungodly world; we have to learn how to read – and view – with a discerning mind.

Which brings me back to my daughter and her new favorite TV show. To watch or not to watch? The truth is, I have watched some very ungodly shows that have drawn me closer to God because they depicted the reality of sin and made me all the more grateful for a God who loves me enough to rescue me from that reality in myself. I've also watched some ungodly stuff that really messed me up.

So here's the advice I think I will give her: ask yourself, when I watch this show, does it bring me closer to God or further away? Do I find myself making excuses for the behavior of the characters I watch, or do I find myself sorrowful for the pain they don't realize they're causing themselves (like I would for a friend in that situation)? Do I see my standards changing for the better or for the worse because of watching this?

And in the end, really, is there something else that would be a better use of my time?

I am becoming increasingly cautious of ever using television or movies as “mindless entertainment”. We do need mindless entertainment on occasion, but unfortunately, we can't afford to rest our minds while we allow the world's images and stories to enter them.

The Facebook Dilemma

Recently, a Facebook friend posted a video of a guy urging people to quit Facebook. (Yes, a bit ironic.) The final straw for him: apparently FB has added (or is adding, I don't remember which) a new feature where they can listen in when you post a status, determine from the background noise where you are and what you're doing, and add that to your status. Something creepy to that effect.

The video post also had a link to another post explaining how to permanently delete your Facebook account. And another explaining how to "quit Facebook without quitting Facebook" -- how to set-up your FB so that you're not unwittingly sharing info with the scary world that could take advantage of it but still keep a very limited presence there for the times you need it.

Quitting Facebook without quitting Facebook. I've considered such a notion in the past.

Privacy wasn't my concern -- although now I'm wondering if it should be. I've always figured that I have nothing on my page that I want to hide from anyone, and I'm a pretty boring nobody in the world. Who would care about my life enough to stalk my page and go through the effort to find something there to use to against me?

No, my concern has been that Facebook has become far too much of a presence in my life. Especially since I got my phone that yells an ugly "DrroOOIId!" at me every time something of any significance happens on my account. I spend way too much time stopping to see who liked my last status.

I spend way too much time reading comments from people I don't know on things I've commented on recently.

I spend way too much time scrolling my newsfeed for the rare amusing or interesting item.

I spend way too much time reading articles my friends have posted that may be amusing or interesting, but most of the time don't add much of real value to my life.

But there are things I would genuinely miss if I quit FB altogether. Things that I really do think add value to my life. For one, my world on FB is much wider and more diverse than my world in real life. If I only interacted with the people I see face-to-face, I would for the most part only be interacting with other straight-laced conservative Christians in our own social class (especially since our move to Texas). Frankly, that may be very comfortable, but I don't think it's good for me -- not socially, not intellectually, not emotionally, not spiritually.

I would also have a pretty limited understanding of a lot of issues facing our country today. Hearing what my differently-minded friends think of what's going on in the world forces me to try to understand issues from another point of view and helps me solidify why I believe what I believe -- and sometimes change what I believe when I clearly need to do so -- and often have more compassion or respect for others with whom I disagree.

I would also miss the connection with scores of people around the country from multiple eras in my life whom I would never communicate with if it weren't for Facebook.

The other problem with quitting? The vast bulk of my blog readers come from the links I post on Facebook. Yes, I mainly blog for my own benefit, but it would stink to do all this writing and nobody read it.

I'm torn. Social media is like a drug. Even when I'm determined to only look at FB twice a day, I'm drawn back in by something that presents itself as important enough to be an exception. I can't partake in moderation. I'm afraid I need to go cold turkey or give up the fight.

Sigh. First world problems. (Note that I didn't put a hashtag on that. Thank God I never let myself even LOOK at Twitter.)

No More Spiritual Than the Opera

Did I mention I got a Nook? For Mother's Day? Fascinating little device. I finished my latest evening devotional book the other day and decided to look to see what I could get for free on my Nook.

One of the works I downloaded (for free! so cool!) was a collection of sermons by C.H. Spurgeon, sermons he gave to students at a pastoral training school where he taught. The one I read last night is about the need for pastors to be spiritually sound and growing themselves if they expect to shepherd a congregation. Kind of a "duh" for me; he spent a lot of time expounding on the idea, which I'm sure was for the benefit of the pastors he was preaching to, to cause them to truly examine themselves. (Sermons are rarely as effective when read as they are when delivered orally.)

But one section really jumped out at me:

"People go to their place of worship and sit down comfortably, and think they must be Christians, when all the time, all that their religion consists in, is listening to an orator, having their ears tickled with music, and perhaps their eyes amused with graceful action and fashionable manners: the whole being no better than what they hear and see at the opera -- not so good, perhaps, in point of aesthetic beauty, and not an atom more spiritual. Thousands are congratulating themselves, and even blessing God that they are devout worshippers, when at the same time they are living in an unregenerate Christless state, having the form of godliness, but denying the power thereof."

Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch. How little has changed since the 19th century. I hope it doesn't sound arrogant for me to say that I don't feel convicted that Spurgeon is describing me . . . but I do feel convicted that I may, in the past, have contributed to a church environment that allowed people to be this deluded.

Listening to an orator . . . interesting that I think I find myself equating the quality of a preacher's oration with his being led by the Spirit in his preaching, when it is certainly possible that a man could be a fabulous speaker and completely devoid of spiritual power.

Having their ears tickled with music . . . by all means, we should be sure the music we offer in worship is the highest quality we can offer, but I have been in far too many situations when the musicians (even some very godly musicians) were more concerned with the audience's response to the music than to how it would please God (note the term audience) . . . and I KNOW I've been in churches where the congregation was more concerned with their personal enjoyment of the music than they were with the worship they were doing in response to it. I've done that myself.

Eyes amused with graceful action and fashionable manners . . . in our day, might we equate this with interesting "stage decorations"? Lighting effects? High quality videos? Trendiness? (I remember a sermon once where the pastor invited us to text him questions to be answered in the next sermon.) Not that any of these is wrong, per se, but when they serve no purpose other than to amuse the eyes of the one sitting in the pew, as Spurgeon says (to keep the audience interested and attentive, to make them feel like they're in a "cool" church, to make them want to come back to see what neat thing the worship team will think up next), then there's a problem.

The words that hurt me here? They congratulate themselves because they think they must be Christians -- must be, because they go to church every week and enjoy it.

It grieves me that so many of our churches are so concerned with getting folks in the door and keeping them there, and they forget that pleasure and entertainment are rarely the means to an encounter with Christ that leads to regeneration (frankly, they are more likely to get in the way) and that the only reason we want people there is so they can be regenerated. Not to stroke our egos about our big numbers, or the positive comments we get after the service, or the reputation we have around town. Not so folks can have an enjoyable morning in a family-friendly moral environment that encourages them to be better people. To be regenerated. How many of us really understand what "regeneration" means these days? And yet we think we're leading people to it because they smile at us from the pews as we tickle their ears.

I think this is why we are so reluctant to connect ourselves to one of the megachurches here in San Antonio. I would rather be part of a small congregation where the people are there because they actually meet God there, whether the aesthetics please them or not.

There's a Mystery Afoot!

We've done a variety of interesting birthday parties over the years. The Peter Pan party with the bouncy-house so the kids could "fly". The chef party -- did that one twice. The Blue's Clues party collecting food for the local animal shelter. The overnight makeover party. The arts and crafts party. The backyard carnival party. The Hawaiian luau party. The scavenger hunt. The improvisational film-making event.

Some flew; some flopped (well, they sputtered anyway -- having a good group of friends over makes it hard to flop a party altogether).

But tonight we trek into new territory. Our youngest is all about mysteries, specifically Nancy Drew computer game mysteries. And it occurred to us that the group of friends she was inviting (her class) consisted of three boys and three girls, exactly like the characters in the board game Clue. When is that likely to happen again? So, we try a new adventure tonight: the mystery party.

Each kid was assigned a Clue character with their invitation -- Colonel Mustard, Miss Scarlet,
Professor Plum, Ms. Peacock, Mr. Green, and Mrs. White. To our delight, they seem to be getting into this. They're hunting down costumes and have been finagling all week trying to figure out who everyone's character is (I didn't instruct them to keep it a secret, but they decided to do so and are having fun with that).

We have the whole scenario laid out tonight, with secret information they receive at designated points in the evening, evidence they reveal, questions they need to ask, secrets they want to hide . . . I tell you, this was a complicated ruse to pull together. I'm just praying the mystery works out in the end; my first attempt at something like this, you know.

Last night, we were all about the food. Kiddo wants to have "elegant" looking food, as if this were a fancy affair. But then, we are feeding a bunch of teenagers. So, we have a freezer full of appetizers (mini quiches, potstickers, mini quesadillas, shrimp -- ooh, probably should pick up some cocktail sauce today -- bacon-wrapped scallops, friend mac-n-cheese squares) . . . we'll come up with some fancy French names for it all and set them out on the china in the Formal Dining Room. Cocktails when they arrive (Coke, Sprite, and juice in wine glasses offered on a silver tray). Desserts in the Courtyard toward the end of the evening (mini cheesecake bites, mini cream puffs, and strawberries with chocolate for dipping).

Yeah, we surely have far too much food. I expect to be eating this junk for the next week. But then, they're teenagers. You never know.

And once the mystery is solved and the culprit revealed, they'll play a rousing round of the Clue DVD game . . . and finish up with the Nancy Drew movie if there's time. This party screams my daughter's name, and they'll all know that.

But they will have fun just because they are fun kids and they genuinely enjoy each other's company. What a blessing this class is.

Kill the Marketing, Just Do Church

Our family has lived in San Antonio for almost nine months now. That's approximately thirty-six Sundays. Every one of those Sundays, give or take a few (we have done some traveling and had a sick Sunday here and there), we have attended a church service somewhere in town. A few of these churches we went back to a few times, but that still equals quite a few churches we've visited.

And we still haven't decided on a church home.

It's discouraging to me. I want to get settled. I want to get connected. I want to stop having the discussion every weekend about where we're going tomorrow, what time do they start again, which Sunday School class will we try out this time, yada yada. I promise that we're not blowing this off. We want to join up – we just want to be sure that we join up where God wants us.

A primary issue for us is that we want our girls to have a group in their church that they feel comfortable with and can grow alongside. And for our eldest, in particular, that is proving to be a challenge. But honestly, for me, I think there's something else in my way, and I haven't decided if this is a good thing in me or not . . . but here it is:

 

I am so done with the seeker-focused mega-church model.

I am tired of church-as-marketing-strategy. I just want to meet weekly with a group of people who are desperate for God and who are finding Him.

I am done with programmed worship. I’ve spent much of my last several years working with sermon schedules, writing dramas, helping plan worship services around themes, considering slogans, images, ways to create atmosphere . . . Lord knows, I am not a spontaneous person, and everything about this process should appeal to my nature, but I am done.

I want to sit at the feet (literally, if necessary) of a man (or woman) who is so fervently seeking God in his own life that what he is learning and experiencing spills out of his mouth spontaneously with passion and urgency. I’ll listen to him for a couple hours if it’s legit and Spirit-filled.

I want to sing with a group of people who are singing in genuine worship. I want to sing a song because the Spirit began singing a song in someone’s heart, and they began singing it out loud, and the Spirit within all of us agreed by joining in. I want to be with people who sing with abandon, not with precision. I want the lyrics to come from the heart and not the screen.

I want to make my entertainment entertainment and my worship worship. I don’t want to care a whit about the quality of the sound system, or the lighting, or the camera angles, or the video feed. I want to leave that stuff to concerts and plays – to legitimate performances.

I am done with creating a Sunday morning show that will draw people in. I want to worship with the people who are there to worship – and if that draws others, hallelujah. I’ve increasingly become convicted that the church should be a place where the believers gather to be believers, not to be whatever it is the world wants believers to be. Not an exclusive club that keeps people out . . . or a marketing program trying to attract people in . . . but an open assembly where we simply are who we are, and anyone is welcome to join us – we're thrilled to have you! – but we have no intention of doing anything differently to get you there or keep you there, because what we're doing is about God and not about us or you.

Am I completely off-base? Am I expecting too much? I don't know. But this is where I am. And we still don't know where we're going to church this Sunday morning.

A Tale of Two Plays

The first school is a private Christian school with a great drama program, known for its quality productions. It has a theater (a small black box theater, but still, its own space) with the resources to build extensive sets, buy nice costumes, and pay the royalties for well-known plays. It even has students receiving scholarships for their participation in the drama program. Play production is a class, built into the daily school schedule.

In the course of their preparation for the spring play, things aren't going as well as usual. The tech crew runs into some difficulty in its efforts to achieve the director's grand vision for the show. A key actor (one of those receiving one of the earlier-mentioned scholarships) is expelled and has to be replaced. The other actors are not completely on their game: lines aren't memorized when expected and so forth.

So, an email goes out to the parents of the play production class, regretting to inform them that the spring play has been cancelled two weeks prior to show day. The school's calendar had no room for pushing the date of the production back, and the director and administration felt that the performance would not be of a quality that would glorify God.

(. . . although, in all honesty, this parent wondered whose glory was really at stake here . . . )

The second school is also a private Christian school, but one just beginning its venture into the theatrical world. It is excited to offer its first ever drama production class (an after-school elective) with nine students and a novice director. They choose a play written by a school parent (royalty-free) and begin faithfully rehearsing once a week.

They have no budget. Zero dollars. All costumes, sets, and props are provided by parents of the students and volunteers at the school. The performance space is a youth worship area rented from the church that the school rents its weekly classroom space from, and they only have access to rehearse in the space in the last two weeks of rehearsal.

Two-thirds of the actors have never performed on stage before. The director has extensive performing experience but has never directed a play before. When they hit two weeks before production time, there are crucial costumes and props still lacking. The first run-through of the play in the actual performance space that week throws the newbie actors for a complete loop -- they forget lines, blocking, everything.

But they push through. They focus on what needs to be done and get it done. By performance night, they pull off an inaugural production for the school's theatrical department that surprises everyone attending with its fun and its message. And God was glorified . . . despite, and maybe even because of, all the imperfections.

Proud to have been a part of play number two. Just sayin'. Well done, Summit Christian Academy.

Saturday Night

Christmas 2013 just ended for me last Saturday night when my husband took me to see "Wicked" at the Majestic Theater. No, I had never seen "Wicked". Yes, that's kind of weird for someone as into theater as I am.

The evening started out with dinner. Since I picked the show, I let hubby pick the place to eat, and he chose a Mexican spot in Alamo Heights. And here's where our homebody tendencies show: we didn't build into our evening's schedule a 30-40 minute wait for a dinner table. Forty minutes? And then waiting to be served? Not happening -- so Mexican was out. We had Five Guys. Which I think I probably liked better. Mmm . . . Five Guys.

And it was a good thing we didn't try to make the Mexican place work, because as it was, we barely got there in time for the curtain to rise. Downtown traffic in San Antonio on a Saturday night? Unbelievable. We spent a full twenty minutes driving one block down Houston street. Luckily, I knew where a parking garage was and we turned off Houston, praying there was still room inside. There was -- at the very top. So we parked and hustled our well-dressed booties down the elevator and down crowded Houston street to the Majestic Theater.

Ah, the Majestic Theater! Beautiful. Just beautiful. Maybe one of the most beautiful theaters I've been in. Of course, I couldn't see much from our seats: the absolute top row of the balcony (the only seats left by a few days before Christmas when I received the gift from my husband). But I took a good look around at intermission. Bee-yoo-tiful.

And even that top row was a relatively pleasant experience. We had top row balcony seats for "Les Mis" in Philly one year, and my husband had to leave at intermission. The seats were so tightly packed in and it was so hot that high up that he was absolutely miserable. We had some nice cool air blowing on us at the top of the Majestic.

The show was fabulous. The theater was packed. And of course, one of the disadvantages of being in the top row balcony of a packed theater is being behind everyone else trying to leave when the show is over. But even then, the crowd moved along pretty efficiently, spilling us all back out onto Houston street.

Which was STILL crowded. And loud. Not until we saw some folks wearing ridiculous green hats did it occur to me that this was St. Patrick's Day weekend and maybe that accounted for the huge crowds. Of course, we've never been in downtown SA this late on a Saturday night, so maybe this is typical weekend stuff.

But if so, remind us to never go downtown that late on a Saturday night. The traffic!  Holy cow!!  It took us over an hour to move the eight blocks or so to get out of downtown and onto the highway. We sat . . . and sat . . . and sat . . .

. . . and watched people going into clubs. I've never been to a "club" on a Saturday night. I'm not sure I've been to a "club" at all, actually. I looked at these people dressed to the nines, a few already stumbling a bit, heard the music blaring, saw the flashing bright lights, and I thought, "There is nothing appealing about that scene to me at all." Nothing. I have an old high school friend who has played at clubs -- I might enjoy listening to his band sometime. But other than that, clubbing looks hellish to me from the outside.

Is this because I'm an old fart? Maybe. But I think even as a young fart, I would have chosen a quiet evening at home over that.

But young fart or old, I'll fight the crowded, noisy streets for a great night of theater. At least once in a while. Definitely worth it.