The World According to Carp

I live in the land of hunting and fishing folk. Dotted along 191, guide and fly shops are a welcome sign to those new to the area who find hunting fowl or catching fish a religious experience.

When in nature, I do think we do see God. So, I'm going to agree with them.

This posting is not about hunting, fishing, or God, although I've thought a lot about the latter lately. Now before you enter the URL of another website, let me finish...

Why do some life events cause people to "find God" when they've ignored God for the majority of their life? Whether it's marriage, the birth of a child, the loss of a job or business, the ending of a relationship, or not being able to find your keys when you're late for work, I have my suspicions when it comes to these new believers.

Let me back up a bit. I have no doubt that some people, when troubled in their lives, turn to God for support. However, when they turn to God because it's the status quo, I guess my cross begins to rub me the wrong way. For example, if two people are getting married and start attending church out of pressure from families, and then stop attending once the gold is on their fingers...I take issue with that. Or when children are baptized, but then no effort is made to take that child to church or teach them the Golden Rule...I take issue with that. Or, when a married person repeatedly cheats on their spouse or commits a crime but it's OK because they "found God" and now attend church.

Throughout my life, I've lost and found God many times. I used to think we're all hypocrites because we only call upon God when we need a favor. However, maybe the hypocrisy lies in what we attach to religion; more importantly, what we attach to organized religion. I do believe there is a higher power, but I don't believe that higher power wants us to ignore the rights of the oppressed, pay a tithe so my parish priest can drive the biggest and baddest Caddy, or constantly run to the confessional to absolve of us of a sin (mistake) we repeatedly make without remorse or lesson learned. Washing away the sins merely requires a shake of your hand in the Holy Water as you walk out of the church having professed your sins and prayed your penance.

I'm not perfect, but therein lies the beauty of the God. The big, kickass power that I talk to every night in casual conversation. Perhaps some people find religion to be a saving grace for saving face in a society where no one talks about religion but everyone talks about being religious. Perhaps others find religion to be a saving grace when they've run out of excuses for their bad behavior or weaknesses.

Whatever the case, I think (sometimes) you need to lose religion to find it again in order to understand its true meaning.

Perpetual Adolescent: I Want to Be a Toys R Us Kid

I was reading an article today about Cecil Castelluci. She's a writer who's broken new ground by stepping outside her genre to write and draw a graphic novel. The article said, "Cecil Castellucci acts more like a 15-year-old boy than a 37-year-old woman. And she makes no apologies."

'I love Ford Mustangs, my Fender guitar, Vertigo comics and my Apple computer,' says Castellucci in a rather appropriate girlish voice.

OK, the last time I checked, I have a 2006 Ford Mustang in my driveway, a Squier (Japanese Fender in my bedroom), enjoy cartoons and comics, and love my Mac mini my beloved man squeeze bought me.

Does that make me a 15-year-old boy instead of a 31-year-old woman? Last time I checked, the double-Ds were a dead giveaway to my feminine ways and wiles. And, last time I checked, monthly visits from Aunt Flow were clearly indicative of the ovary-inducing inconvenience we ladies like to call our period. End of sentence.

Once again, some idiot journalist feels the need to peg passions to a specific age group. However, I started to think about other things and wondered if I'd ever grow up. Or would I be stuck in Aisle 16 talking to Geoffrey from a foam Dora the Explorer couch.

Over the years, I've seen friends get married and have children. Over the years, my boyfriend and I have moved cross-country three times in pursuit of better career options. As I get older, I've begun to equate marriage and children with maturity.

I hate to say this, but some friends who have married immediately shed their passions for an amorphous blob of coupledom. As my boyfriend can attest, we are two big kids---who love cartoons and have no pangs of guilt when we purchase Fruity Pebbles with our Vitamin C and organic milk. We have no qualms about seeing a Saturday matinee where the main attraction is the latest Pixar picture.

Yet, on the flip side of the coin, both of us pursued our educations and now work full-time jobs. We do laundry, cook, clean, and pay bills and taxes.

I'm not sure why people feel an excuse is necessary when a "mature" person does "immature" things. What is the difference between being immature and mature? Where does the boundary for adolescence end and adulthood begin? I would never want to go back to high school; I love my thirties. But, I don't want to give up things I've always enjoyed because the number of candles on the cake far exceeds the "Recommended for Ages..." warning.

Nope, I'm going to have my cake and eat it, too.

Invasion of the Cankle Snatchers

As the sun glistens in the Gallatin Valley and suntanned children saunter down Main Street in their shorts while others feverishly pedal their bikes, I'm reminded of the summer season.

Across America, people are lugging Rubbermaid containers out of their attics and closets to unearth the Mother of All Summer Fashion Treasure: capri pants.

Call them clam diggers (where I'm from), pedal pushers, or highwaters if you're a pimply teen who's grown a foot in the last year.

Whatever name you bestow upon these beastly pants, count me out of the picture.

For some reason, I've never quite understood the fascination with cutting your legs off with a swatch of fabric to reveal a body part most women otherwise disdain.

Yes, ladies, the cankle. Part calf. Part ankle. A cankle is when the calf and ankle have no clear definition...there's literally (and clearly) a 1:1 ratio of calf and ankle. The cankle has its roots in ancient times (circa 20th century) and is culturally referenced in websites (ihatecapripants.com) and even a Seinfeld episode.

I'm not the proud owner of a pair of cankles nor am I size 0, but intentionally selecting a pair of pants that draws attention to cankles is not a badge of courage. It's a cry for mercy.

So, please men (yes, men have cankles and wear manpris---the masculine version of capris) and women of America, put away the Capris and buy shorts or pants.