Do you ever have those moments when you’re talking to someone and you’re thinking one thing and they’re thinking another- only you don’t know you’re thinking differently, but what you do know is that things seem weird and suddenly you’re confused and wonder if the two of you are even involved in the same conversation? Happens all the time, right? I like to call it the misinterpretation of communication. Here are some recent examples for you.
Disclaimer: Contrary to my comments on alcohol, I really do not drink that much and the following idiot moments occurred under absolute sobriety. Though being under the influence would provide a somewhat valid excuse for my stupidity.
Misinterpretation Moment #1:
When Jon and I were out on our Vietnamese dinner date last weekend, I noticed a dish on the menu that contained very rare beef. Hmmm, I thought to myself. First of all, what kind of beef is so rare that out of all places, you could get it at this dinky little eatery in a strip mall? So, I pointed it out to Jon- “this one has VERY RARE BEEF.” I wanted him to find it interesting. He didn’t seem too curious about it. Then I thought, seriously… if this beef is SO hard to get, why is it only $5.00? 'Rare beef,' they're full of it. Once again, I commented on the “very rare beef” to Jon, the whole time wondering why he wasn’t as fascinated- and he was probably wondering why I was so fascinated. It was going nowhere, so I moved on. Later in the conversation, he mentioned something about the rare beef… and there is was- the LIGHTBULB! “OHHHH, I said, ‘rare’ as in ‘not cooked!’ This whole time I’ve been thinking ‘rare’ as in ‘hard to get.’ I’m an idiot.” It seems I have to admit that a lot.
Misinterpretation Moment #2:
This morning I was leaving the house and asked my roommate about a Chinese restaurant around the corner. “I’m thinking about picking up dinner for our group tonight.” She started in about how much she liked it because there were “these cute little Chinese boys who sit there in the evenings and do their homework and check you out.” I stared at her for a moment, repeating in my head ‘little Chinese boys…homework…check you out’. And, just before I blurted out, "who are you, you sick perverted woman,” she finished her statement with, “they are really nice, but it makes you wonder about child labor laws.” LIGHTBULB! ‘Check you out’ as in ‘at the register.’ Whew! This is me NOT drinking. Scary.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Not Knowing What to Think of Me
People who have been closely involved in my life in the past several years probably aren’t surprised by much I write on this Blog. They aren’t shocked by my use of an occasional expletive or by my comments on tequila or road rage. This is the me they know. I realize however there are those who knew me in my early years (before I was old and over thirty!!) who probably suspect I’m now a trashy-mouthed, Crack-head, alcoholic stripper. Know this- I neither have the body, nor the dance skills for that occupation. These are the friends who know me from my “young Christian” years. Those years when bad words were substituted with niceties such as “sugar!” and “darn”… when I believed that God answered prayers for finding a close parking space- because somehow His glory is tied into me having a shorter walk into the mall… and when Point of Grace was the greatest Contemporary Christian group EVER! Those same days when I would never drink because it would provide such a poor witness to those watching me that they would somehow NEVER want to know the Lord because how could I drink alcohol and still go to Heaven?
I can understand how friends who knew me then may be banning together at the moment to stage an intervention on my damnable soul. They’re wondering how the former vice-president of the Ole Miss Baptist Student Union could digress to such behaviors as drinking and swearing. Friends, before you pile in the car and crank up the Michael W. Smith while having “popcorn prayers” for me in the car, rest assured that I have not crossed over to the Dark Side. Sure, I cuss occasionally and I drink on a social basis, but I still love Jesus and I still seek God, but I don’t pray for close parking spaces and quite honestly, I think I would rather be a Crack-head stripper than ever listen to Point of Grace again.
I can understand how friends who knew me then may be banning together at the moment to stage an intervention on my damnable soul. They’re wondering how the former vice-president of the Ole Miss Baptist Student Union could digress to such behaviors as drinking and swearing. Friends, before you pile in the car and crank up the Michael W. Smith while having “popcorn prayers” for me in the car, rest assured that I have not crossed over to the Dark Side. Sure, I cuss occasionally and I drink on a social basis, but I still love Jesus and I still seek God, but I don’t pray for close parking spaces and quite honestly, I think I would rather be a Crack-head stripper than ever listen to Point of Grace again.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Not Your Regular Earthworms
Another conversation with my roommate:
Me: "So, I was reading here in Acts and it says in reference to Herod, 'an angel of the Lord struck him down, and he was eaten by worms and died.'"
Allison looked at me, probably wondering if that was the extent of my spiritual curiosity.
"So, I'm curious because usually you die, then are eaten by worms." I really wanted her to partake in this conversation.
"Hmmm, so maybe the worms caused the death?"
"OH! It says right here in the footnote, 'Herod died a horrible death accompanied by intense pain; he was literally eaten alive, from the inside out, by worms.'"
"AHHHH!!!! (as she slapped her hand over her mouth) That's unfortunate."
To say the least.
Me: "So, I was reading here in Acts and it says in reference to Herod, 'an angel of the Lord struck him down, and he was eaten by worms and died.'"
Allison looked at me, probably wondering if that was the extent of my spiritual curiosity.
"So, I'm curious because usually you die, then are eaten by worms." I really wanted her to partake in this conversation.
"Hmmm, so maybe the worms caused the death?"
"OH! It says right here in the footnote, 'Herod died a horrible death accompanied by intense pain; he was literally eaten alive, from the inside out, by worms.'"
"AHHHH!!!! (as she slapped her hand over her mouth) That's unfortunate."
To say the least.
Monday, January 28, 2008
A Definitely Memorable Dinner Date
This year, Jon and I implemented a new monthly event- a dinner date somewhere neither of us has been before. January was my month, meaning I got to choose the location and it was my treat. After some deliberation, I decided we should try this Vietnamese place I had heard about over the past few years.
The fact that it is located in a shady, desolate shopping center should have been the first red flag. Now, I love finding a good “hole in the wall” dive, but even the most adventurous should be apprehensive about a restaurant bordering a scuba shop and an Asian nail salon.
We were quick to notice that the décor left a lot to be desired. Maybe black, mirrored panther art on the walls IS authentically Vietnamese? Even if- the huge television in the corner, playing Grey’s Anatomy, seemed to ruin the “authentic” experience.
There were interesting menu items, but when you can get a crab and shrimp dish for $5.50, something just isn’t right. I decided to stick with something simple- fried rice with chicken and vegetables. Jon ordered a noodle dish with crab and shrimp. When our food arrived, I got my rice and Jon got a gianormous bowl of soup and a plate of bean sprouts, garnished with jalapenos. We both stared at it.
“Did you know you were getting soup?”
“Um, I don’t think I did.”
He ran his spoon through his soup and a huge clump of clear noodles emerged, looking a lot like a jellyfish. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen clear noodles, but they’re freaky looking. It is not natural for a noodle to look that way. He battled his clumpy noodles and fake crab while I tried my rice. After five chopstick bites, I decided it wasn’t worth the calories and I stopped eating- thankful it was only costing me $5.00. He tried adding a mysterious barbecue-looking sauce to my rice, hoping it would add some flavor, but stopped after two bites.
In my opinion the meal was a disaster, but we had a great time together making fun of our experience. Now the night is referenced by “Hey… remember that time we went out for Vietnamese and you got those clumpy, clear noodles that looked like jellyfish and then you put barbecue sauce on my rice? Those were good times!”
The fact that it is located in a shady, desolate shopping center should have been the first red flag. Now, I love finding a good “hole in the wall” dive, but even the most adventurous should be apprehensive about a restaurant bordering a scuba shop and an Asian nail salon.
We were quick to notice that the décor left a lot to be desired. Maybe black, mirrored panther art on the walls IS authentically Vietnamese? Even if- the huge television in the corner, playing Grey’s Anatomy, seemed to ruin the “authentic” experience.
There were interesting menu items, but when you can get a crab and shrimp dish for $5.50, something just isn’t right. I decided to stick with something simple- fried rice with chicken and vegetables. Jon ordered a noodle dish with crab and shrimp. When our food arrived, I got my rice and Jon got a gianormous bowl of soup and a plate of bean sprouts, garnished with jalapenos. We both stared at it.
“Did you know you were getting soup?”
“Um, I don’t think I did.”
He ran his spoon through his soup and a huge clump of clear noodles emerged, looking a lot like a jellyfish. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen clear noodles, but they’re freaky looking. It is not natural for a noodle to look that way. He battled his clumpy noodles and fake crab while I tried my rice. After five chopstick bites, I decided it wasn’t worth the calories and I stopped eating- thankful it was only costing me $5.00. He tried adding a mysterious barbecue-looking sauce to my rice, hoping it would add some flavor, but stopped after two bites.
In my opinion the meal was a disaster, but we had a great time together making fun of our experience. Now the night is referenced by “Hey… remember that time we went out for Vietnamese and you got those clumpy, clear noodles that looked like jellyfish and then you put barbecue sauce on my rice? Those were good times!”
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Mysterious Mentality
There are some things about life… about people’s behaviors that I understand. I understand that in the South, schools will be closed and Kroger will be packed if there is even a forecast of snow flurries. I understand that people will naturally ask you to taste or smell something they’ve just told you is horrible. No thanks. I understand that some people wake up in the mornings with a desperate need to empty their bladder, but are unable to walk away from the bed without first pulling up the covers, getting them even and completely making the bed before they can go pee. Just me? Hmmmm.
There are a lot of strange behaviors I understand. But there are some I do not.
1. I don’t understand the thinking of someone who walks into the gym shower area and seeing seven shower stalls empty (as evidenced by the open curtains), decides instead to try the ONE shower with the curtain closed. Let’s see… I can see that no one is in these seven stalls, I think I’ll try the one with the closed curtain. Then there is this shocked “Oh, excuse me!” response as they discover me in there. Got more than you bargained for, didn’t you pervert. Bet you won't try that again!
2. I don’t understand why people will call me at work to ask me for someone’s name and phone number and when I start to tell them, they respond, “Oh hold on, I have to find a pen.” Seriously? You just called me, knowing that you were asking for something you knew you would need to write down and you didn’t think about finding a pen BEFORE you called. Not a problem. I was just sitting here wondering how I could waste minutes of my life- you go ahead and find your pen while I sit here and wait. Thanks for calling.
3. I don’t understand people who pull into the gym parking lot and sit in their car, waiting for another car to move so they can park four spaces closer. Do you even realize how incredibly stupid you look doing this? Why don’t you just valet so you can save that whole ten-yard walk altogether. If you’re that lazy, you should just turn around and go home. The gym requires something called "exercise" which looks a lot like walking.
4. I don’t understand men. Okay, not just in general. I don’t understand how men can shower together in the open at the gym, slap each other on the butt in congratulations, but they have to leave that extra seat between them at the movies, lest someone think they’re “friendly.” That’s not contradictory behavior at all.
But, such is life I guess- and life’s mysteries are what keep us interested. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a forecast of cold weather tomorrow and suddenly I feel the need for milk and bread.
There are a lot of strange behaviors I understand. But there are some I do not.
1. I don’t understand the thinking of someone who walks into the gym shower area and seeing seven shower stalls empty (as evidenced by the open curtains), decides instead to try the ONE shower with the curtain closed. Let’s see… I can see that no one is in these seven stalls, I think I’ll try the one with the closed curtain. Then there is this shocked “Oh, excuse me!” response as they discover me in there. Got more than you bargained for, didn’t you pervert. Bet you won't try that again!
2. I don’t understand why people will call me at work to ask me for someone’s name and phone number and when I start to tell them, they respond, “Oh hold on, I have to find a pen.” Seriously? You just called me, knowing that you were asking for something you knew you would need to write down and you didn’t think about finding a pen BEFORE you called. Not a problem. I was just sitting here wondering how I could waste minutes of my life- you go ahead and find your pen while I sit here and wait. Thanks for calling.
3. I don’t understand people who pull into the gym parking lot and sit in their car, waiting for another car to move so they can park four spaces closer. Do you even realize how incredibly stupid you look doing this? Why don’t you just valet so you can save that whole ten-yard walk altogether. If you’re that lazy, you should just turn around and go home. The gym requires something called "exercise" which looks a lot like walking.
4. I don’t understand men. Okay, not just in general. I don’t understand how men can shower together in the open at the gym, slap each other on the butt in congratulations, but they have to leave that extra seat between them at the movies, lest someone think they’re “friendly.” That’s not contradictory behavior at all.
But, such is life I guess- and life’s mysteries are what keep us interested. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a forecast of cold weather tomorrow and suddenly I feel the need for milk and bread.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
The Laughs on You
“He who laughs last, laughs best.”
At least I think that’s how the traditional statement goes, but what does that mean really? Wouldn’t the last person to laugh miss out on some laughter time? Wouldn’t laughing last be an indication that a person is a little slow to “get it”? And when they finally do “get it,” they’re usually being laughed at, not joining in on the laughter. No, I think he who laughs last, laughs less.
I’m a fan of laughter, a seeker of laughter, a laughter advocate if you will. I tend to surround myself with people who make me laugh. People say lots of things about laughter. It’s the “best medicine,” the “shortest distance between two people,” it’s “good for the abs.” Okay, the last one is my own, but it’s true. You can actually exercise by lying on the couch and watching a funny movie. I wouldn’t recommend this as your only fitness endeavor.
Aside from the obvious health benefits, laughter provides multiple mental and emotional benefits. Tension and stress can usually be dissipated with a good joke, and laughter almost always brings people together. Of course, tequila is also good for these things, but laughter is free.
To me, laughter is essential to making life a bearable and enjoyable thing. Sometimes life is hard. Sometimes it’s sad. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. Sometimes it’s embarrassing and cruel. And sometimes, the only way to not let it overwhelm you is to see the humor in it.
I remember one Christmas several years ago when my family was gathered together in Mississippi. My two brothers were probably already in jail at that point and my uncles and cousins wanted to come for a visit. The problem? None of them had driver’s licenses because of DUIs (another reason to choose laughter over tequila for life’s problems). Various family members were discussing who could go get them, but even some of them had suspended licenses. I was standing in the kitchen listening to all of this when I yelled out, “Okay, if you have a driver’s license, raise your hand!” After that, my sister and I started making jokes about giving out door prizes for having a driver’s license, longest consecutive time without an arrest, etc. We laughed until we couldn’t breathe. That is still (sadly) one of my most memorable holidays.
Laughter has often helped me deal with life’s hardships and over the course of several years, I have learned to not take myself or life too seriously. It wasn’t until I learned to laugh at myself though, that life became so much more enjoyable. Now, instead of worrying that people think I’m an idiot, I embrace my idiot moments and consider them an opportunity to laugh. By Wednesday of this week, I had already had two opportunities to do so.
When I arrived at the YMCA on Monday morning for a workout, I pulled off my fleece pullover to discover a dryer sheet clinging on for dear life. There I was, standing at the elliptical in the Green Hills Y, surrounded by strangers who were probably watching me (because we all know that’s what other women do at the gym – that article is coming), standing there pulling this dryer sheet off my shirt. Years ago I would have been mortified. How embarrassing. I look like I don’t pay any attention to myself. What must they think of me? Those would have been common thoughts. Instead, I chuckled, probably shrugged my shoulders in an “oh well” kind of way and gently laid the dryer sheet on top of my shirt as I climbed on the machine. I thought it was funny.
The next night as I was leaving Jon’s house, I kissed him goodbye, turned to walk out and smacked my forehead on the side of the open door. I ain’t gonna lie- it hurt! I grabbed my head and let out an “owwww”. Once the initial stinging pain subsided, I stood there holding my head, laughing. “I’m such an idiot!” I said. “Yes, you are,” he agreed. We both laughed.
The ability to laugh at yourself is a gift. If you can’t do it, try to learn, you’ll be a happier person for it. Someone is going to laugh at you, don’t be the last- you’ll laugh less.
At least I think that’s how the traditional statement goes, but what does that mean really? Wouldn’t the last person to laugh miss out on some laughter time? Wouldn’t laughing last be an indication that a person is a little slow to “get it”? And when they finally do “get it,” they’re usually being laughed at, not joining in on the laughter. No, I think he who laughs last, laughs less.
I’m a fan of laughter, a seeker of laughter, a laughter advocate if you will. I tend to surround myself with people who make me laugh. People say lots of things about laughter. It’s the “best medicine,” the “shortest distance between two people,” it’s “good for the abs.” Okay, the last one is my own, but it’s true. You can actually exercise by lying on the couch and watching a funny movie. I wouldn’t recommend this as your only fitness endeavor.
Aside from the obvious health benefits, laughter provides multiple mental and emotional benefits. Tension and stress can usually be dissipated with a good joke, and laughter almost always brings people together. Of course, tequila is also good for these things, but laughter is free.
To me, laughter is essential to making life a bearable and enjoyable thing. Sometimes life is hard. Sometimes it’s sad. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. Sometimes it’s embarrassing and cruel. And sometimes, the only way to not let it overwhelm you is to see the humor in it.
I remember one Christmas several years ago when my family was gathered together in Mississippi. My two brothers were probably already in jail at that point and my uncles and cousins wanted to come for a visit. The problem? None of them had driver’s licenses because of DUIs (another reason to choose laughter over tequila for life’s problems). Various family members were discussing who could go get them, but even some of them had suspended licenses. I was standing in the kitchen listening to all of this when I yelled out, “Okay, if you have a driver’s license, raise your hand!” After that, my sister and I started making jokes about giving out door prizes for having a driver’s license, longest consecutive time without an arrest, etc. We laughed until we couldn’t breathe. That is still (sadly) one of my most memorable holidays.
Laughter has often helped me deal with life’s hardships and over the course of several years, I have learned to not take myself or life too seriously. It wasn’t until I learned to laugh at myself though, that life became so much more enjoyable. Now, instead of worrying that people think I’m an idiot, I embrace my idiot moments and consider them an opportunity to laugh. By Wednesday of this week, I had already had two opportunities to do so.
When I arrived at the YMCA on Monday morning for a workout, I pulled off my fleece pullover to discover a dryer sheet clinging on for dear life. There I was, standing at the elliptical in the Green Hills Y, surrounded by strangers who were probably watching me (because we all know that’s what other women do at the gym – that article is coming), standing there pulling this dryer sheet off my shirt. Years ago I would have been mortified. How embarrassing. I look like I don’t pay any attention to myself. What must they think of me? Those would have been common thoughts. Instead, I chuckled, probably shrugged my shoulders in an “oh well” kind of way and gently laid the dryer sheet on top of my shirt as I climbed on the machine. I thought it was funny.
The next night as I was leaving Jon’s house, I kissed him goodbye, turned to walk out and smacked my forehead on the side of the open door. I ain’t gonna lie- it hurt! I grabbed my head and let out an “owwww”. Once the initial stinging pain subsided, I stood there holding my head, laughing. “I’m such an idiot!” I said. “Yes, you are,” he agreed. We both laughed.
The ability to laugh at yourself is a gift. If you can’t do it, try to learn, you’ll be a happier person for it. Someone is going to laugh at you, don’t be the last- you’ll laugh less.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Red means stop. Green means go. Yellow means speed up?
I learned something while I was in Minnesota- people up North actually slow down when they approach a yellow signal on traffic lights. I looked it up- the “amber” color does actually mean “prepare to stop.” Go figure. Growing up in the South, I always thought it meant, “GO, GO, GO… You can make it!!!” I had a friend in college who averaged about one traffic incident a month. One month, she slammed into the back of another car. When we asked her what happened she said, “Well, I was trying to make the yellow light and the car in front of me wasn’t.”
I have actually noticed drivers behind me get angry if I slow down when approaching a yellow light. I always tend to look in my rear view mirror, just to see their response. The face tightens, the brow furrows, the hands pop off the steering wheel in that “C’MON” kind of way. You know what I’m talking about. Those people. I have been one of those people. But, now I’m changing my ways.
In the past few days, I have watched several cars speed on through yellow lights, which often turn red before they even enter the intersection. Just yesterday, my turn signal lit up and as I started to accelerate, a car came speeding past my front end. Two seconds. Two seconds and I would have been far enough out for that car to slam into my driver’s side door, likely causing injury. I can just hear the driver’s story now.
“What happened?”
“Well, I was trying to make the yellow light and she thought that green arrow meant it was safe for her to turn. She must be from up North.”
I have actually noticed drivers behind me get angry if I slow down when approaching a yellow light. I always tend to look in my rear view mirror, just to see their response. The face tightens, the brow furrows, the hands pop off the steering wheel in that “C’MON” kind of way. You know what I’m talking about. Those people. I have been one of those people. But, now I’m changing my ways.
In the past few days, I have watched several cars speed on through yellow lights, which often turn red before they even enter the intersection. Just yesterday, my turn signal lit up and as I started to accelerate, a car came speeding past my front end. Two seconds. Two seconds and I would have been far enough out for that car to slam into my driver’s side door, likely causing injury. I can just hear the driver’s story now.
“What happened?”
“Well, I was trying to make the yellow light and she thought that green arrow meant it was safe for her to turn. She must be from up North.”
Thursday, January 10, 2008
New Entertainment
By the time I flew to Minnesota on December 27, Jon had already been
there six days- which translates into roughly 60 hours he had been
able to surf the internet and watch YouTube videos. So, when I
arrived, he had several things to share with me.
One was this little gem of entertainment from Flight of the Conchords.
"Business Time"
I can't tell you how many times we listened to this song, I lost
count somewhere after eighty-five.
Another site he found had a ranking of bad song lyrics, along with
comments on their stupidity. I liked it so much, I wanted to start a
new label entry (Laughable Lyrics) on my blog with the same concept.
there six days- which translates into roughly 60 hours he had been
able to surf the internet and watch YouTube videos. So, when I
arrived, he had several things to share with me.
One was this little gem of entertainment from Flight of the Conchords.
"Business Time"
I can't tell you how many times we listened to this song, I lost
count somewhere after eighty-five.
Another site he found had a ranking of bad song lyrics, along with
comments on their stupidity. I liked it so much, I wanted to start a
new label entry (Laughable Lyrics) on my blog with the same concept.
The Mystery of Christ's Birth
Happy New Year! After a holiday hiatus, I'm back with the intention
of posting regularly.
Before I move into the new year with thoughts on resolutions, fresh starts, etc., I'd like to go back and reflect on Christmas. I spent time with my family in Mississippi and with Jon's family in Minnesota. In Mississippi, I didn't wear a coat, I injured my shoulder playing Tiger Wood's golf on the Wii, and I convinced my six year old niece that there were elves living in the Christmas tree. She'll need therapy later in life, but it sure is fun now. In Minnesota, I wrapped up like a mummy, learned a fun new game (Mexican Train), went sledding, and had a full-on Lutheran church experience- complete with non-singable hymns, chanting Psalms, and morning aerobics (sit down, stand up, sit down, stand up). While my Christmas experiences varied, none of these events left me with without a sense of closure for the Christmas season. These are not the topic of this entry. No, it's also not the miracle of the Incarnation, or Christmas presents, or meaningful reflections of the season.
After Christmas, I am left with one question burning in my mind. One question taunting me like those jeans I can no longer fit my rear end into.
One question.
One question about my roommates leather nativity scene.
Take a closer look.
One question.
What the hell is this?
Seriously. We have Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, the three wise men
(albeit one looks slightly feminine), what appears to be a donkey,
a mix between a cow and a pig,
and one UMO (unidentified manger object). I have read, and reread the birth story in Luke and I cannot find the answer!
of posting regularly.
Before I move into the new year with thoughts on resolutions, fresh starts, etc., I'd like to go back and reflect on Christmas. I spent time with my family in Mississippi and with Jon's family in Minnesota. In Mississippi, I didn't wear a coat, I injured my shoulder playing Tiger Wood's golf on the Wii, and I convinced my six year old niece that there were elves living in the Christmas tree. She'll need therapy later in life, but it sure is fun now. In Minnesota, I wrapped up like a mummy, learned a fun new game (Mexican Train), went sledding, and had a full-on Lutheran church experience- complete with non-singable hymns, chanting Psalms, and morning aerobics (sit down, stand up, sit down, stand up). While my Christmas experiences varied, none of these events left me with without a sense of closure for the Christmas season. These are not the topic of this entry. No, it's also not the miracle of the Incarnation, or Christmas presents, or meaningful reflections of the season.
After Christmas, I am left with one question burning in my mind. One question taunting me like those jeans I can no longer fit my rear end into.
One question.
One question about my roommates leather nativity scene.
Take a closer look.
One question.
What the hell is this?
Seriously. We have Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, the three wise men
(albeit one looks slightly feminine), what appears to be a donkey,
a mix between a cow and a pig,
and one UMO (unidentified manger object). I have read, and reread the birth story in Luke and I cannot find the answer!
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