Google Doodles...

Usually enjoy the "Google Doodles" quite a bit. Foucault's Google Doodle yesterday was no exception and reminded me of my family's day-trip to Chicago's MOSI (Museum of Science & Industry) when I was in junior high.

I really enjoyed that day, and can safely say I soaked up more knowledge in that one trip than in any 2-week period at any school I've ever attended. In fact, when I'm teaching, I still mention things learned from that trip... some 25+ years later.

When I first saw the Foucault Doodle, of course I had to play around with the controls, was completely side-tracked for several minutes, then wanted to Google search Léon Foucault, clicked right over to his Wikipedia page, read the entire thing, opening several tabs in my browser to look at all of the cool things he'd been involved in discovering. Eventually I "woke up," noticing I'd spent a good hour reading, completely forgotten why I went to Google in the first place, and had missed my short window-of-opportunity for a 20 minute power nap.

Normally, no power nap isn't a problem, but this year I teach in the mornings, my wife comes to school, hands off our 2 year old, I play with her, &/or run errands for an hour, feed her, put her down for a nap, then (if time permits) grab a 20 minute power nap, and work from home the rest of the day. My brief foray into the life and accomplishments of Léon Foucault led me to the realization that I am (and probably most Americans today are) quite "busy," but don't really accomplish quite as much as people did a hundred years ago. Foucault lived a grand total of 48 years, 4 months, & 23 days (six years and a few days longer than my lifespan to date), and he discovered many interesting and amazing things.

I, on the other hand, could not think of one single thing I've discovered or created. Sure, I do have an incredible wife (that not only puts up with me, but loves me too), five great kids (that are better looking, have more skills, and are in better shape than I was at their age), have taught kids for years (one-on-one, in "regular" school settings, & in Sunday School), and can carry a tune (with my voice and several different instruments), but that's about it. Not overly impressive.

Was thinking I'd like to "up my game" in the "life accomplishments" department so I could have an impressive headstone like Foucault, until I took a closer look and realized: there was no mention of his family. Then recalled I hadn't seen any mention of Foucault's family members in any of the on-line biographies I'd read either. I scanned them more thoroughly, but still found no mention of a wife or any children. After that additional reading, I realized he died rather young with progressive (and incurable) paralysis (due to all the chemicals with which he'd worked) and he died alone.

That decided it for me: my simple life, with not a single "discovery" or "world-renowned accomplishment" has been much more fulfilling than poor Mr. Foucault's. Sure, there are still things on my bucket list, and I need to put more time in on my wife's little projects around the house, but if a drunk driver puts me underground some morning on my way to or from school, in my view, I'll have had a greater legacy than Foucault... just in our five children... even if every one of them lives their own "inconsequential" and "simple" lifestyle... just like mine.

I still appreciate his discoveries, think it would be neat to make some scientific discoveries of my own, or become a world-renowned singer, or musician, or a multi-millionaire in business, but if none of that happens, I'm fine with that too. I'll have the love of several little people and my wife to keep me happy for years to come.

Off to school now. Think after school today I'll run my errands, play with the baby awhile, and see what can be done around the house for my wife. =)

Some Time & School Tidbits

Well, I've been quite far "out of the loop" (the "active blogger" loop that is) for quite awhile. Haven't had much time, and really wasn't getting enough sleep to care. The kids are all (obviously) older now, my wife & I are "tag-team" teaching, and (amazingly) I do have a bit more time on my hands since school started!

As I thought about it, am fairly certain this is the only time since I first boarded a school bus (with my multiple cow-licks slicked down and my lunch box clutched in my grubby little hand) that I've been able to say "more time since school started." Pretty amazing actually. I'm sure someone just might be thinking, "How on earth could he possibly remember every year so far back into ancient history? He's over 40; surely he must be exaggerating." (Thank you, BTW for relegating me from "cool" and "young" to "fogy," but I was hoping no one would notice for another 10-30 years.) While I do not have a photographic memory, there still is quite a bit in this old belfry that's not so thickly "coated with cobwebs" that it can't be brushed off and drug out into the light of day...

For example, remembering back to a small USAF base in central Illinois, there was a messy little boy that was quite enthused about starting school… but that only lasted about 2 weeks. Once I realized school was not a place to learn about all the "cool stuff" in the world, but was actually just a place to coop up a bunch of rambunctious little kids all day, and that all of us were only allowed to learn as slowly as the least motivated student in the class, then I wasn't all that interested in school anymore.

I did want so badly to learn to read... yet Miss Fry would only teach us one letter each day! (FWIW, I thought it was funny that "Miss Fry" became "Mrs. Brown" later that year.) When we weren't practicing our measly one letter, the rest of the time we had to "color." At least we had our big boxes of 64 Crayolas with the pencil sharpener on the back, but I knew my 3-year old sister was doing the same thing at home... so the "fun factor" was totally not there. Coloring at school was completely boring.

There wouldn't have been anything at all to look forward to at school if it hadn't been for my best friend (& neighbor) Tori and the cute little red-haired girl that rode the bus with us. Every day I'd look forward to holding her hand as we walked all the way through the "big kids' end" of "bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, Pleasant Acres" Elementary to where the Kindergarten classes were on the far end... and then repeating the process after school to get back on the bus. (Neither one of us cared that the big kids thought we were "so cute.") Can still remember the daily disappointment of leaving my two best friends at the door of the "other K-5" class before trudging across the hall to my slave-driving teacher and then trying to sit still… for those never-ending hours… every day… bored, and completely unmotivated to color. (It got worse after the little red-haired girl moved away part way through kindergarten. One of the greatest travesties of my lack of education in K-5: they hadn't taught us to read… so I couldn't get her address to write to her!)

When first grades' Mrs. Dupree showed us how to put all those single letters together to make words… and I was finally able to read on my own I was SO excited! Of course, from then on I was still in trouble quite often, but rather than being scolded for talking to my neighbors, I was sent to the principal's office for reading my books… for "not following along" with all the slow kids (never mind that I would read every textbook from cover to cover in the first 3 weeks of every school year). Needless to say, school remained pretty boring, but at least with a few books secreted in my backpack I knew there would be something interesting to do in school each day.

Suffice it to say, as I'm teaching now I try very hard to exclude dull, "busy work" from my classes, include as many interesting things as can be crammed into each class, and still pay attention to which ever student(s) may be love-struck over their little neighbor. It is too bad I don't need to test them on all the interesting stuff, they seem to remember it much better than the things we're required to teach them.

Anyway, about that extra time I've found: the baby (who's now 2, has decided she's too big to soil her diaper, and and has been speaking in complete sentences for several months now) needs to be put down for a nap every day after lunch. Since my wife is teaching English during nap time & my classes are over by then, I get to come home and hang out for a few hours. Have lesson plans and quite a few projects around the house that still need to be completed (as well as mounds of laundry to fold… but what man in his right mind wants to fold laundry?), but several of those projects can be done quietly, so I'm not planning to be blogging daily, but still have high hopes for the life of "ye olde blog" this school year.

Crazy Fruit

Well, I'm still not blogging consistently, but I think today's oddity warrants a blog posting.

We eat a lot of fruit in our house... prevents scurvy, keeps everything in the digestive system balanced and all that. So this morning, my daughter asked for "an orange." Technically, these aren't oranges, they're "Darling Clementines" (from Chile), but my wife and I knew what she wanted.

So, of course, the answer was "yes." She went in the kitchen, got the biggest one she could find (all my kids do that), and commenced peeling it at the dining room table. When she opened it up there was a very small clementine completely inside the fruit part of the big clementine: an "orange inside an orange," or a "clementine in a clementine" so be more precise. I have seen little pieces of orange inside bigger ones before, but this one was very different: it was completely encased with a second peel! She had already started eating the large pieces, so I grabbed what was left, an AA battery, and a nickel (for size reference) and snapped a picture of everything with my iPhone:

I also wanted to know if the inside of the mini-clementine had developed at all, so I took it into the kitchen, sliced it open on the cutting board, and got another surprise. It WAS completely developed! Put it back on the table next to the AA battery, the nickel, and an unpeeled Clementine for another pic. (Didn't realize the pic turned out so yellow, or I'd have taken another one, but my daughter ate it immediately afterward.) =)

People. Explained.

---

This evening I was "profile surfing" on FaceBook. I don't know if anyone else does this, but I rather enjoy it. "Profile surfing" consists of randomly selecting one friend in your friend list, clicking on them, then when their page opens, clicking on one of their friends (that you do not know) for whatever reason (an interesting name, a nice profile picture, the 3rd friend from the top of the friend list, etc.). Profile surfing is most fun when you can read something about the random people that you find. Tonight, I hit on an interesting page. In the "bio" part of the person's "Info" I found the following allegory:

---

The differences between men and women are kind of like the differences between dogs and cats:

Cats do what they want.
They rarely listen to you.
They're totally unpredictable.
When they want your attention, they get it; even if they have to put themself in the middle of what you're doing,
or claw your leg.
Cats value appearances (especially their own).
Sometimes they like to be pet, brushed, and held;
sometimes, they don't want to be touched.
They expect you to cater to their every whim,
they are often moody,
they may hiss, scratch, bite, or just ignore you when they are unhappy, and
they leave hair all over the place.
When you want to play, they want to be alone.
When you want to be alone, they want to play.

Actually, cats are just tiny women in little fur coats.


Dogs also do what they want.
They can hear food being opened on the other side of the house, but they don't hear some things in the same room.
When they want your attention, they get it; even if they have to sit on you, lick you, or wet on your leg.
Dogs value "fun" things to do.
They like to spend all day sprawled in the most comfortable piece of furniture in the house.
They love combining "fun" things:
Sprawling in a comfortable piece of furniture is better with the addition of food.
Sprawling in a comfortable piece of furniture, watching (or sniffing) fun things, with food, and other friends around -- is even better still.
Dogs can look dumb and loveable -- all at the same time.
They growl and show their teeth when they are not happy.
They love to be pet, scratched, and played with.
They are almost always happy to see you,
they love to greet special people by jumping on them
(some special people get wet, sloppy kisses too), and
they leave their toys everywhere.
When you want to play, they want to play.
When you want to be alone, they want to play.

Actually, dogs are just tiny men in little fur coats.

So, for you ladies out there, be sure you "pet" your man's ego frequently, and be more willing to play. He'll be loyal to you forever.

For the men, work on your appearance, be mindful of your lady's feelings (don't maul her every day either), and listen to her closely. She may not mention she likes it, but she'll notice. She may even throw you a bone. ;)

Happy New Year!

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NOTE: Once again, I've relapsed... it's obviously been a very long time since I've blogged. I did have a great idea for a first-blog-posting-of-the-year, but I didn't sit down and do it right then (or at least make a note of it in my phone), and it has been lost to the deepest recesses of my subconscious. Although unlikely, perhaps in the near future it'll resurface and I'll have the presence of mind to make a note of it.

---

This year, I've decided to keep my long-standing New Year's resolution of "Make no New Year's resolutions." (Resolutions which I wouldn't keep anyway.) So instead, I've compiled a short list of areas in my life in which I'd like to see growth this year. Mind you, these are not resolutions, just a rough outline for personal development. Of course I may think of a few more and add them later, but these should suffice for a start:

  1. Love (and enjoy) my whole family more (every day),
  2. Be thankful for everything (and more faithful to pray).
  3. To all sin, be more resistant,
  4. In my life, be more consistent.
  5. Always exhort, edify, and smile at each friend,
  6. Think before I tactlessly stomp toes or offend.
  7. Cast no pearls before swine,
  8. Eat less when I dine.
  9. Repair (or dispose of) anything I find broken,
10. Be mindful not to let one kind word go unspoken.
11. With my lovely wife, always show my passion,
12. With those that need it, have (at least some) compassion.

and...

I might even blog more too. =)

My Apologies To Shakespeare:

To Post, OR not to Post, that IS questionable.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous children (in silence)
Or to take up words against a sea of troublesome-ness,
And by exposing, laugh at them?

Thus begins my latest installment of the vagaries of having children:
The other evening Sugee was s'posed to be going potty, washing her hands, then getting into her jammies before having a snack and trundling off to bed. Sugee doesn't always do s'posed to very well -- she has her own little world she inhabits and its... well... different.

After an extraordinary amount of time in the bathroom, I decided it would be wise to go find her. (Bear in mind, this is the same three and a half year old child that two Saturdays ago crammed a Gobstopper up her nose -- as far as she could reach her "pinky" finger!)

This Saturday evening, I found her -- in the bathroom? Yes.
Completely finished and ready for bed? No -- try stark naked.

Furthermore, she was patting at her soaked, wet hair with the used (and very dirty) foot-towel.

Realizing she was merely attempting to copy Mommy, but making a mess of herself, I stifled my smile and laughter, asked what she had been doing, and (of course) received the typical sugar-coated answer of "Nothing Daddy". After some verbal pressure, she did reveal that she had just finished "washing her hair in the bathtub" -- albeit, I hadn't heard any water running (except in the sink) so I was not convinced. Willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, I had her wash her hands and finish getting ready for bed.

Once dressed, she did finally admit that she had NOT used the bathtub to wet her hair.
No . . . my sweet, innocent, blond-haired, green-eyed, cherub-faced daughter had just participated in a SELF . INDUCED . SWIRLY ! ! !

(And for the curious-minded, no: I did not check to see if the water she used was pre- or post-potty -- I really did not want to know.)

I'm hoping she survives being a toddler . . . and that her baby sister doesn't take after her in any way shape or form.

And thus the natives' hue of exploration
Is o'er laid with the hearty cast of memory,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this affection their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of trouble. - Soft you now!
The fair Sugee! Nymph, in my orisons
Be all thy sins -- forgotten.

A Small Milestone

My three and a half year old son (Tank) came to me a few weeks ago and begged to have his training wheels removed. Thinking he was too young, I put him on his big brother's "blue-bike" and let him make a few attempts. Tank, at three, is actually heavier than Little Bear (who turns six in March), and only a few inches shorter, so the "big" blue-bike is all of one inch taller than the "little" one. (Both bikes are blue, the smaller one has racing flames on it, so they've dubbed it the "fire-bike.") Tank wasn't quite ready for me to let go, but he was surprisingly good. I didn't remove the wheels from the fire-bike at that time, but decided to let him try again -- soon.

Last week, one of the training wheels came loose on the fire-bike; Tank went down pretty hard, but shook it off (hence the nick-name). He brought the bike home and laid it in the driveway in front of my wife's van for me to fix. (Daddys can fix anything you know.) Seeing the bike in the driveway reminded me of our "escapade" a few weeks ago, so I let the bike lay there for a few days. (Long enough for poor little Tank to be dying to ride his bike again.) Saturday (while my wife was out shopping) I took off his other training wheel, put him on the fire-bike, and told him to pedal. Guess what he did?

If you thought, "Sat still and cried his eyes out," you were right. He remembered the previous attempt -- as well as going down hard last week. Not to be deterred by a few tears (Momma was shopping, remember -- he couldn't "tell on me" until later) I told him I wouldn't let him go, but he had to pedal. After several bent-over jogs up and down the street (holding onto the bottom of his seat), I thought he was almost able to ride on his own (there'd been very few forays into the grass). So first thing, we sat down for a few minutes -- I don't jog very well bent over and needed to catch my breath. While I was resting, I had Little Bear take the fire-bike, told him to ride up & down the street, and called Tank to come sit with me to watch. He complained the whole time, but dutifully got right back on the bike when I was ready.

As we headed down the street once again, I did let go, but kept jogging behind him -- and he did fine. We turned around (I helped) and he went back up the street -- this time I ran right next to him. He was concerned, but started getting excited when he realized he could ride with no training wheels. We turned the last time and started back down the street (with me still running alongside) when my wife started up the road. Without him knowing, I signaled to her to stop and (as she waited) told Tank to "pedal to Mommy" and show her "how good he was doing with no training wheels."

In case you don't know, there is something built-into 99.999% of all men: we must show off in plain view of females. As a child, the female of most import is Mom, but Grandmas, Aunts, friends, neighbors, and siblings follow close behind. Tank falls in the 99.999% category -- as soon as he saw his Mommy flashing the headlights of the mini-van at him, he needed no more help. At least, no more help riding -- he doesn't stop well yet. He didn't let that deter him though -- he crashed into the neighbor's mailbox, jumped up, and told his mother what he'd just done. At every opportunity since, he's been telling friends and family of his latest accomplishment, and begging to ride some more.


P.S. Sorry for spilling the beans guys, but ladies -- if you want your man to get something done, word your request in a manner that feeds his ego, then make a big deal out of what he's accomplished for you -- preferably in front of other females that are important to him.

Bitten by Reality

My wife goes to these ladies' meetings; they're usually every two to five weeks apart. I'm not really sure what they do there? Perhaps just talk with all the other ladies from our church with no men or children to interrupt?

Needless to say, ladies' meetings are great for her, and a challenge for me. Tonight's meeting did have a great added bonus though: cookie exchange! She's only been home a few hours, so I have yet to sample all of the cookies she's brought back, but I'm sure I will have done so by tomorrow evening.

The opposite side of the coin is the dark side. I get to watch all of the children by myself. Don't get me wrong, I love kids. We did, after all, have FOUR of the little buggers.) =) The problem is the age of said children, and the resulting responsibilities corresponding to each.

Five is a great age. I can play with Little Bear, tickle him until he can't walk, stand, or even talk, sword fight, play with his LEGO blocks, and all sorts of other fun things. Very few draw-backs with this age.

Three is also a "fun" age, the kids are old enough to play with, reason with, and generally have a lot of fun. It does occasionally have its downsides though. Like when one three-year-old "pokes" the other, or takes the chair, crayon, or toy the other wanted, or (heaven forbid) doesn't get the correct spoon at dinner-time! The resulting drama that unfolds normally rivals the best "All My Children" could ever hope to offer. Sometimes I wonder how much I could make rewriting dinner-time drama and selling it to the major soaps.

The real kicker, however, is not the five year old, the twin three year olds, or even the fact that I watch them, alone, for two to four hours. What gets me are the stomach-churning capabilities of our five month old. What, you may ask, can a five month old do that bothers my stomach? plenty. For starters, just seeing the mixture of cereal and peas I fed her for dinner hasn't changed all that much the second time around usually does it. Actually, color doesn't matter quite as much as stench.

I can handle gunshots, blood, guts, broken bones, death, and any number of other things that would turn anyone's stomach. The problem for me lies in bodily excretions, from either end.

Anyone that tells you women are inferior to men... is a full-blown liar, or has never had to juggle the responsibilities of several small children, the phone, and a simultaneous diaper change. Thankfully, tonight I did have the five year old, and he likes to help. I had him hang on to each of Little Squirt's hands while I cleaned the other end. No finger-painting allowed on my watch you know.

Silly Children

I enjoy children. They have a view of the world that is, on one hand, overly simplistic, but, on the other, is intensely practical. My children have said some things lately that have kept me in stitches.

Nearly every Tuesday night, our church has "Gospel Night" in which the adults go visiting, the girls have a "Charm class" (which is really a craft/dessert-making-class), and the boys have "Karate for Christ" (actually a blend of 4 arts, but we didn't want any of the "stigma" aspects of MMA associated with our church). (By "stigma" aspects I mean: we really don't want droves of "TapOut" mentality teens, just kids wanting to be able to defend themselves).

A week ago Tuesday my family sat down to dinner (prior to Gospel Night). It was Little Bear's turn to pray, and he has been doing a great job for several months now. For some reason, he ended his prayer with (mind you, this prayer is for our dinner), "And please help no one to get killed at Gospel Night." My wife and I snickered quietly, but nearly lost it. It was even funnier when half an hour later, AT Gospel Night, he volunteered to pray and said almost the exact same thing! Other than muscle, joint, and bone soreness from practice, no one's been hurt in any way at Gospel Night, so we don't know why he prayed that prayer -- we do know it was funny to hear.

Also during Gospel Night, just Little Bear's prayer, Sugee walked into the auditorium (late), saw a friend (whose name rhymes wigh her own), raised both her hands in a "ta-da" manner, and said, "_______'s here!" Everyone except my wife thought Sugee said her own name rather than the friend's -- that was good for a 15 second show-stopper.

Our littlest one (4 months old already) wants to grow up and is very strong-willed: she does not like a pacifier, she hates to lie down (unless she's sleepy), if we put her in a reclined seat (bouncy chair) she will try to sit up, and if you hold her hands, she'll do everything she can to walk or jump. This morning little Bright Eyes was put in a baby car similar to this picture -- later, she started fussing. When I found her, all I could see was the top of her head! It seems she had been put into the car with both legs in one leg-hole, been standing the entire time, and finally (after a half an hour!) slipped down to a sitting position deep inside the seat area. We laughed, but she was so mad (thankfully, my wife was the one to put her in the car, so I wasn't in trouble, this time).

Lastly, we have Tank; he says a lot of funny things. My current favorite is his prized red race car: "Lightning TheClean."

I had hoped to write several other things they've said or done lately, but since I made the mistake of attempting to save them all up for one post, most have slipped my mind. In the future, I think I'll need to write smaller posts -- as they happen.

Another TWO Free Books Are Coming... Soon!!

Last night, for the first time in I don't know how many months, I went to bed before midnight (think it was even before 11.30pm, but not sure). This morning I found a message on my LibraryThing profile that excited me! Here's the text:

Congratulations. You've snagged an Early Reviewers copy of 1,000 Dollars and an Idea: How an Inspired American Entrepreneur Built a Billion-Dollar Fortune by Sam Wyly.You should get your copy in the mail shortly. The publishers ship the books directly--some are speedier than others, so please be patient!

private comment posted by                 at 12:43 pm (EST) on Jul 1, 2008

After I checked LibraryThing, I went and checked my email -- found even MORE good news!

Dear Matt,

You have been selected to review Faster, Better, Stronger by Eric Heiden/Massimo Testa. Your Advanced Readers Edition should arrive at your address within 14 days via U.S. Postal Service.

Thank you for participating in the First Look program.

HarperCollins Publishers
               @harpercollins.com

The only thing I like better than a good book is a good book that's FREE! and the only thing better than that... is TWO free books!! I can hardly wait!!!


In other (church) news, VBS is rapidly approaching (next Monday). This year's theme is on having a "Wild West Witness." Since I wear cowboy boots (to church, with my suit) every week anyway, I have a jump on most of the other people, but I'll still have to dig out my old saddle, my bolo tie, pocket watch, and a lariat. I might have two lariats, but I've never thrown one -- I just like western things. Today (and maybe tomorrow as well) I'm going to try to build a scale that will hold ~200 lbs per side. That's going to be tons of fun. (We need the scale to measure the offerings... which we don't expect to be very large this year, but next year [and after] we hope to grow the church and our outreach.)

Also, Varmint 4 is due 15 July 2008. The only good thing about a C-section is the ability to pick the date of delivery (provided the baby cooperates and doesn't come early). My (74 year old) neighbor thinks we should have stopped with 2 kids (kinda hard when the 2nd pregnancy was with twins) and is constantly giving me a hard time about having a 4th child. (He's even offered to buy us another TV!) Yesterday I told him it was exactly 2 more Tuesdays until our 4th Varmint is due and my wife was somewhat nervous about the upcoming surgery, but excited to finally know if we're having a girl or a boy. His comment was something along the lines of, "Why don't you just ask them to install a zipper so the next one is easier?" It took me a few seconds to see the humor, but my wife thought it was funny too.

Lastly, my favorite (only) sister is going to visiting FL in the next few weeks. She's not sure when she'll be coming over to see us, but if I had to guess I'd think she'll do all she can to make sure it's after the baby is born.

And now I'm going to come up with a few different plans for the VBS scale, then see what I have in the way of parts & supplies, then attempt to build one...

Another (Normal) Busy Day

Time is just flying by; later today (5.30pm) we'll celebrate the twins' 3rd Birthday. (It seems like they were born a few weeks ago.) Before that happens, I need to mow (about 4-6 acres), help clean up the house, watch the kids (wife is teaching a piano lesson @ 10.00am), and set up a bunch of chairs for the aforementioned party.

As the month ends (the next 2 weeks), I know a few people that would like some painting & drywall work done. Then the first full week of July (7-11) is VBS. The 2nd week of July our 4th Varmint is due (Tuesday, 15 July). The 3rd week of July (21-25) I'm scheduled to go to Puerto Rico with my Dad and help put a roof on a Christian School. And the last week of July I'm supposed to help start a Mixed Martial Arts Class -- as the teacher! (Never mind the fact that Thursday night was my second ever self-defense class.) Additionally, our new pastor has asked me to train one of our members to take over my Sunday School class (6yo-12yo boys) so that I can begin teaching the teen/college & career class. At least I'm busy enough to stay out of trouble.

The Small Excitements of Life

Last Sunday night we had a game-night at church. That kept us out later than usual. When we got back to the house (around 11 pm) we got the Varmints 3 ready for bed ASAP, and dropped them right in, except for Little Bear. At 11.30pm, he decided he wanted to pray and ask Jesus to take away his sins and take him to heaven. Needless to say, Daddy was very excited!

Today (Saturday) I took the training wheels off of his bicycle. Except for the occasional starting push (on my part), he's done a great job of riding -- from the very first push. In fact, he's doing much better than I ever did. I distinctly remember riding into rose bushes (multiple times), (fenced off) flower gardens, and even (literally) up a tree. He's all proud of himself -- the neighbor's boy is 2 years older and still uses training wheels. (Although, up until a short time ago, the neighbor's boy lived in an area that was not conducive to riding bikes. He'll probably have his off shortly.)

Kid-isms -- #1

The other day for dinner, my wife decided that she didn't feel like making dessert (she's 31+ weeks along with Varmint #4... I don't blame her). Instead, she brought out the family-sized applesauce jar from BJ's. When the kids finished their dinner, she started dishing out the applesauce.

The ensuing discussion was great:
---------------------------------
Little Bear: "Mommy! May I please have dessert now?"
Mommy: "You just got dessert; you have applesauce."
Little Bear: "Applesauce isn't dessert."
Mommy: "Tonight it is. If you want any dessert tonight, it's applesauce."
Little Bear: "But that's not dessert -- there's no chocolate in it!"

(At which point, I almost fell out of my chair I was laughing so hard.)

Celebrating Geek-dom

I have decided that "cool-ness" isn't -- at all -- what it's cracked up to be (not that I have extensive experience in that area), and I thoroughly enjoy my eccentricities... so far.

Thursday, when I came home for lunch (I've been enjoying my job for the last few months... especially eating 3 meals a day at home) I found my wife had placed an 8½" x 11" padded yellow envelope under my plate. It seems I'd received it in the mail, but she hadn't opened it (although, let me assure you, she was dying to know what was in there). The upper left corner of the envelope (the "normal" return address address area) was totally blank. However, I did see it had been hand-addressed to me. At first, I didn't even notice the "Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill" sticker on which my name and address were written.

It seems that my membership in LibraryThing.com, and specifically, my involvement in the Early Reviewers Group has finally paid off: I received a FREE book in the mail!!! I'm sure not very many people in the world would do a little happy-dance in their chair when they find out someone sent them a free book, but I did. Of course, "free" did/does have one caveat: I have to read and review the book -- that's easy, I'm a read-a-holic. Not to mention, I always have an opinion (about everything), and finally someone is asking me to give my opinion. To top it all off, this is the first time I've even seen a book with "Advance Reading Copy. Not For Sale." emblazoned across the top of the front cover -- and they sent it to me... on purpose! Now, I just need to find the time to read the book, and write the review.

So, for any of you that bother reading my blog... now you know: I will do a happy-dance anytime someone sends me a free book and asks my opinion on it. (Although, I really can't stand things like romance novels, enviro-nut-jobs, pro-evolutionists, pro-choice (murder), horror, etc.)

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EDIT: I just logged in to write my review, and found this post... NOT published to my blog... oops.

Today is actually Tuesday, April 8th, 2008. I received the W. Hodding Carter's Off the DEEP END on Thursday, March 27th, 2008.

Time changes all...

I keep pictures in my head of how everyone I know "used to" look. When I talk on the phone with my friends, or read their emails, I can still "see" them in my mind -- looking just as they did back when I first met them.

Even though seeing current pictures of my friends is sometimes a surprise, the longer I'm on it, the greater my realization is of how much I enjoy Facebook. I like seeing the pictures of others better than the pictures of myself -- although seeing the receding hairlines and extra grey hairs on others reminds me of my own. As much as it can be annoying to always be posing for pictures, I do like looking at them. It's especially interesting to me seeing my friends from my college days -- how time has changed most a little, some drastically, and yet a few don't look any different. It also seems like the friends I would expect to have just a few children have many. Even though it's been 5 years since their last one, it still occasionally amazes my that my "little" sister has SIX children... and the Rossiters have SEVEN!! EIGHT for the Scilex's!!! and the Sarlos are just flat-out impressive!!!!

Our three (soon to be four) are a handful, but I love crawling around on the floor with them... tickling them until they can't talk... hugging them when they get their "boo boos"... getting unexpected (usually slobbery) kisses just for being "Daddy" and getting to explain all of their questions about the world around them.

Little Bear is just 5, but his questions and observations amaze me... often. Especially when I'm driving down the road, listening to him talk (the boy can out-talk even my mother, and for those of you who've met her, you KNOW that is saying something) and he stops mid-sentence to interject how the car we just passed looks like someone's we know... yet we last saw them almost a year ago! It floors me how much individuality can be observed in 4 and 5 year olds. He asks questions of how I was as a boy (thankfully, the cobwebs aren't too thick yet, and I can still remember), and what did his "Papa" do with me when I was little. And then pictures of my parents (that are still way back in the corners of my mind) come back out to the forefront of my memory, and I understand a little better the sacrifices that they made for us... and my admiration for them grows... more... again.

Last weekend, out of curiosity, I Googled a friend. His name is fairly unique... when I finally spelled it correctly, he was the only one in the world that came up. So I called him up to see how life had gone for him so far. And he told me just a tiny fraction of the problems his only son is having... multiple operations to save his son's life have caused other complications that now threaten that life. He told me how difficult it is to see his wife constantly in a state of emotional distress, and how, as glad as he was to hear from me... he had to get back in the hospital, in case it was the last few minutes he'd have with the son that shares his name... and is only 8 months old.

That was when the sights, sounds, smells, the mind-numbing waiting rooms, the intensive care units, and all of our own experiences with our first child... also a son... came back to my mind. I remember being exactly where my friend is now: my wife and I spent every free waking moment in the hospital... listening to doctors tell us our son probably wouldn't live much longer... and how he needed this surgery, or that new piece of equipment, or some other change that would give him a few more days... maybe.

The few hours a night I'd allow myself for sleep were spent scouring the internet and devouring medical books... learning everything about his problems, any possible techniques and medications that could be used to treat current and even possible complications... so when the doctors discussed his condition, I would not only be able to understand every word, I would also understand the implications of every decision that could keep him alive. It was against hospital policy, but I asked how every piece of equipment worked... even the complex ventilators, so if anything happened when the nurses, doctors, or respiratory therapists were all at other children's bedsides, I would know what to do. And a few times, we were all glad that I knew what to do. My wife and I watched every nurse, insisting on specific ones to be assigned the care of our son, insisting others be removed from the unit.

Then when we finally saw "the light at the end of the tunnel" and the lung problems were finally healing, and the drugs were being weaned from his system we faced another staggering blow. We'd also been watching other parents for months -- many taking home healthy babies, some taking home handicapped babies, and others that left preparing for a funeral. We thought it was almost all over for us... with a happy ending to boot, and then the MRI results indicated his brain was "mushy." They said it appeared to be dissolving, and if he lived through that, he would probably be a "mental vegetable." After a few more days of waiting, he still wasn't responding like he should have been if he was 100% "normal," but it hadn't gotten worse. We continued to cling to our hope, and our faith was rewarded. He eventually improved to normal; it was just a much slower process than what anyone expected it to take.

We finally brought him home after spending his first 4 months in the hospital. He still had equipment connected to him -- there was even still a large chance he could die at home -- but the doctors, nurses, and respiratory therapists had been observing us while we observed them. THEY recommended we take him home... that we care for him. They said it was their belief that we could give him the same (and possibly better) level of care that he was receiving in the hospital, and that the environment would be much better for him. So, home we all went, and gladly.

He had good days and bad ones at home; we took a few trips back to the hospital... one in an ambulance with lights flashing, siren blaring, and the EMT "bagging" our son, but somehow God saw fit to bring our son through it all ("bagging" is hand-pumping oxygen into him). Little Bear has proven all of the doctor's worst predictions wrong. But... he has been the exception to almost every case... and when we bring him back to visit the NICU, the medical staff gathers around to see the "miracle boy" -- they all say (even the atheistic ones), "He is proof that prayer works!" One of the two doctors that delivered Little Bear is also a Believer, and constantly checks up on the little ones he's assisted in bringing into the world. Whenever the NICU doctors get discouraged, or give up hope, he reminds them of Little Bear, and that anything is possible.

In light of all those memories, the months of anguish, of attempting to comfort my wife in the bad times, and then years of uncertainty that finally resulted in a good continuation of "our story"... I heard in my friend's voice the same feelings of helplessness that I felt back at the beginning of the whole process.

I know that I can tell him "anything is possible" from the standpoint of being there... even down to the possibility of a "mushy" brain healing. But I remember being there and listening to the harsh, cold delivery of an impossibly difficult diagnosis... and back then I didn't want to hear those words, even from someone that had experienced them... I didn't want to get my hopes up -- only to see him die like some of the other children had. I didn't want to be like other parents that brought home a little baby -- a little baby that they knew would become a big baby, because his brain was incapable of ever developing further.

No, I wanted to KNOW he would be fine, I wanted proof... and ironclad guarantees, but I know that wasn't possible, just as I knew it then. Just as I knew I'd have to take whatever God had planned for his life... live with it... and like it.

And so I hesitate to call my friend... hesitate to ride that awful roller coaster of emotions... and yet I want to check in with him hourly... because I KNOW there is a one-in-a-million chance... and I want to know his son will be that one, just as mine was. I still want an ironclad guarantee... and it's not even our son. I wish I could see the future... five years from now... will his outcome be wrestling on the floor, with tickles and slobbery kisses? Will he be pointing to the world around him and explaining it to his miracle boy? That's what I want... what I'm praying for.

And while I'm looking 5 years in the future, I want to be able to peek over and see if we've done OK training our own children. I'd like to see they've removed the "rough edges" we're trying to teach them to lose. I'd like to see them following God better than I did at their age... making new friends that are, and will remain assets to their lives. See them doing right, even when it's hard. And I know I can't see that, yet. But I can still take my mental pictures of today, and smile when my wife wants "real" ones. And as our hair gets more grey in it, we can look back at what was... and remember all the good times we had.

Abstractions

Wow. Just realized there were only two posts in the entire month of February... talk about "Blog remission" -- I'm infected! So here's the short version since my last post:

My parents brought my last surviving grandparent down from the cold north for a visit. (The Varmints 3 used to refer to her as "Gate GeeMaw" but recently she graduated to "Gwate Gwamma" instead.) They left Chicago after last month's ice-storm to visit my sister in the mountains of N.E. PA... I'm not sure what the logic was there, but Gramma was sure ready to come see me in south Florida after 2 weeks in that inhospitably-cold climate.

Two humorous remarks from the Varmints 3 lately:
1. (To Gwate Gwamma) "It's OK that you sleep in here (my daughter's room), but you can't play with any of the toys."
2. (Another to Gwate Gwamma) "Are you too old to play with toys?"
3. (To each other) "He (or "she") won't let me share!"

Mom & Dad have decided at least one person needs to stay with Gramma from now on -- in addition to poor hearing (even with the hearing aids) she has frequent memory loss, occasional mood swings, and has trouble walking. This will be difficult for them, but is probably "do-able." (Dad will soon be on his way to Germany for another 2 to 3 month remodeling job for BIMI.) My wife and I enjoy having her here, so they may bring her down more often. She doesn't get around much, but she likes to sit on the couch and fold laundry... something we have an over-abundance of.

After a great two-week visit, we all left sunny south Florida last weekend (7th to the 9th of March) and traveled to Clearwater, FL. My parents and Grandma arrived in Clearwater on Saturday, left the Tampa area Sunday afternoon, and arrived in Chicago this (Monday) evening. They travel fast.

I, my wife, and the Varmints 3 left home early Friday, spent 2 days and a night in Clearwater (for the first-ever CCC ensemble reunion), went to some friends' house in Myakka City Saturday evening (WAAAY better than a motel/hotel stay), attended Sunday morning services in Bradenton, then attended Sunday evening services in Naples, before coming back home late Sunday evening. It was a whirlwind weekend for us. The kids were exhausted... unfortunately for us, their behavior showed it.

I've been working quite a bit to attempt to finish remodeling our church's missionary house into our new assistant Pastor's new home. It's mostly done now: the crown molding is up and painted, the knock-down texture is on the walls and ceilings (and has been painted), the tile and carpet are down. Other than touch-up painting, some of the door trim has yet to be painted and caulked as well. This week I'm attempting to finish wiring in the new outlets, lights, and fans in time for the house to be cleaned on Saturday (church work day).

Actually, I should mention that "assistant" Pastor was to be his title prior to the home-going of our current pastor of 34 years. At 5 minutes to midnight on the first of March, he left us. He was ready to go, but it's been difficult for his wife of 51 years. I'm sure it will be a very long year for her.

I've since been juggling church and work responsibilities while attempting to help her (his widow) as much as possible. We're not sure how well (or not) the transition to the new pastor will go, but we're planning to vote him in as Interim Pastor at the end of the month. We're not sure how long he'll be "Interim-ing" before we either vote again, or he changes his mind (doubtful). Hopefully, everything will go smoothly and with minimal problems... I can hope, right?

On a side note, I finally submitted a short story to a local paper for a writing contest. No surprise: I didn't win, but at least the process got my brain working for a few days. In the coming weeks I'd like to editing... well, maybe re-writing is more like it... it and seeing where else I can send it off.

So that's the current version of life in the Matt lane... never slow... rarely organized... and always changing.

"Restless" Ramblings

Well I've located everything I couldn't find, and just about figured out everything I need to know to keep track of church funds. It's actually not much work, and pretty easy. That was quite a relief.

An even bigger relief was the email I received this evening from our "almost full-time associate pastor" that lives an hour & a half drive away from here: he WILL be here, and preaching for EVERY SERVICE except next Sunday night (the 17th) for the rest of the month!!!

I would have jumped for joy on reading this email, but I discovered it after waking at "oh-dark-twenty." Which means it's the middle of the night, and I should've been in bed sleeping hours ago. However, sometime around 11.30pm, when I finished updating the Parents of Multiples website, I dozed off in front of the computer. This has happened a few times before... actually... I should probably say: this isn't a rare occurrence... ah... well... I think my wife would roll her eyes at that one too. She would probably say: it happens quite often. (So it's a very good thing I've got an extremely patient wife.)

Between studying for messages (which I know I really don't deliver very well, but I still enjoy them), updating the Parents of Multiples website (which I also enjoy, even though I think the site's inherited look and layout are antiquated and in need of a comprehensive face-lift), attempting to keep up with email (impossible), and all the time I enjoy wasting on FaceBook, I tend to fall asleep at the computer much more than I should.

I've attempted to make it very difficult for myself, but I think I'm just too good of a sleeper. If my eyes close, I have about 3 to 5 seconds to get them open, or I'm out. This is a skill I was born with, but it was well-honed as a security guard in college. College also improved my skill of sleeping through almost anything.

Prior to college, nothing woke me unless someone entered my room (somehow my sleeping brain could tell the difference when the dog wandered in and out). When someone did walk in my room, I'd immediately sit up in bed; by the time I was sitting up, I'd be almost fully awake and quite coherent (although I did tend to forget whatever anyone would tell me). Unfortunately for me, that skill is no longer mine. Perhaps too many years of needing naps during the day (to work 4-8 hours every night or 2) took my edge off. Although, I'd almost be willing to put money on the main reason I lost this skill being the large number of times I would sit up from a sound sleep and slam my forehead into the hard metal rail that supported the bunk above mine. (For some odd reason, my roommates always thought that was extremely funny.)

Of necessity, my reflexes eventually toned down to the point that I wouldn't wake up unless someone sat on my bed, but that too passed. Several of my roommates enjoyed seeing my forehead slam that bar so much, that they'd invite guys in from other rooms just to get them to sit on my bed.

My body coped by not waking unless physically disturbed (being physically touched, hit by spit wads, flatulence by my head, etc.). That too passed: many weeks I would work well over 40 hours per week, and desperately needed much more sleep than I could get. (Ah, you may say, there was a limit of hours you could work for the college and still be enrolled full time. But there was a loophole, and I discovered it. I didn't realize how many hours I was working back then, but while culling tax records last summer, I discovered old pay stubs. Security, maintenance, and the computer lab all submitted my hours, and I received separate checks that, had they been totaled together, would have shown my "low weeks" totaled 40 hours. I found a few weeks totaling over 80 hours.)

Needless to say, by the time college was over, I'd gotten to the point that I'm still at now -- for me to wake up, I need to be continuously shaken very hard (30 - 120 seconds), or keep a very loud alarm clock across the room (because I can turn it off in my sleep), or hear a phone ring. I'm not sure how the phone ring wasn't discovered by my ever-resourceful roommates, but I'm glad it wasn't. It's nice to have one "normal" thing that wakes me up.

Which brings me back to my current situation. Although I like a comfortable chair, I know having one is not conducive to keeping me awake, so I replaced it with a round, backless stool on 5 wheels. It rolls very well, so I usually can't sleep long (30 minutes to an hour) before I fall to the floor. I've discovered my sleeping carcass moves very little and has decent balance, so on occasion, I have been known to last most of the night on the rolling stool.

Tonight, thankfully, I did not. The problem tonight was the way in which I dozed off cut off the blood flow to both arms, both legs, and my derrière. So when I began typing this letter I could only move 2 fingers on my left hand (ring and pinky) -- every other appendage (beside my head) was a nearly lifeless club. I've now regained most of the use of the rest of my limbs, and will be trundling off to bed shortly... as soon as I figure out what labels I should put on this post. Too bad it's almost time to get up; at least I know I'll be asleep within a few seconds of my head hitting the pillow...

Back to work

Last Saturday, as our vacation was nearing its end, we went to visit my sister's family in Clarks Summit, PA. The weather was nice (clear & dry with light snowfall) albeit somewhat "brisk" compared to south Florida (windy with temperatures in the single digits & low- to mid-teens). I enjoyed our time there; I haven't been sledding in a few years and they have a nice little hill in their backyard (actually, theire entire backyard is a hill). The biggest unexpected highlight was learning to snowboard! I must say -- it's just as fun as it looks. I took a few minor falls, but sustained no serious injuries -- since I broke the 30 mile-marker several years ago, I've come to expect a few overstretched or pulled muscles every once in awhile.

Prior to Saturday, my vacation "exercise regimen" (excluding eating) subsisted mainly of sitting on the couch reading (or while waiting for my email to load on the wonderful dial-up internet connection), with occasional forays into pushing the kids on the swings, pushing (and riding) the merry-go-round, fetching wood & building fires (only in the fireplace), and brushing snow from the car before driving. The sitting and reading portion was approximately 75% of my vacation -- which I enjoyed immensely. Haven't done that in about a year -- since my Pastor got so ill.

After sledding and snowboarding at my sister's house for several hours, I "loosened up the gunk" in my lungs quite well, and started coughing a great deal. Since my sporadic coughing (every 10 - 30 seconds) was driving everyone (myself included) up the wall, I finally consented to going to a local clinic, where my "simple" cough was diagnosed as a highly probable case of "walking pneumonia" -- over $200 in fees and medicine, yet I still don't know for certain what ails me. Whatever it is, the rattling sounds of fluid are primarily in the bottom of my right lung. Based on my current condition and symptoms, it's likely I've contracted mild cases of pneumonia several times in the past. For some reason, the prescribed antibiotic and cough inhibitor have yet to work as well as the Mucinex DM did. I'm going to try supplementing them with it while working tomorrow (Wednesday). [Edit: It did help.]

When we arrived home, was quite disappointed to discover the lack of work completed on our current remodeling project. Prior to our departure for vacation, I worked several long days and late nights (knocking off between 9.30 & 10.30 pm) to be sure everything could continue unimpeded in my absence. I cleaned up all the work areas, put away every unneeded tool, insulated ceilings, ran wiring, and myriad other little things that anyone could do (yet I knew no one else would have the patience to do) then returned to find: only 2 good days of work were completed. During those 2 good days of work (that took one day less than 2 full weeks to accomplish) no trash was removed from the job-site, no needed materials were purchased, and the building supervisor is still refusing to talk to any workers beside me. I'm not sure what his problem was (is), and don't think I'll be asking -- for fear of losing my temper at his continued petty childishness -- perhaps I shouldn't expect so much of a supposed "mature" Believer. So after unpacking, catching up on some overdue web work, and eating lunch, I put in 4 hours of work this afternoon (Tuesday). I'd planned on mowing, buying cow feed, returning some unnecessary work supplies, and buying more, but it started pouring about 3.30pm, so I quit early.

My wife had a board meeting this evening for the local twins' club. Since I'm the webmaster, we're technically both on the board, but I don't go to the meetings: conversations frequently dwell on topics undesirable to me (the other members are all moms). Usually, the Varmints 3 and I have a good time rough-housing in the living room when Mommy is gone, and tonight was no exception. Around 8.30pm, after a dessert of Jello and a book-reading session (to calm them down) I finally put the 2 youngest varmints to bed, then lasted all of about 30 seconds on the couch before succumbing to a much needed nap. I'm not sure when Little Bear crashed on the rug, but I do vaguely remember him trying to cover my feet with the blanket before taking it to sleep on top of. We were still there at 10-something when my wife came home (she carried him to bed before struggling to wake me). Of course, I did forget the exertion of wrestling would cause me to cough more, so now I can't sleep. While "the gunk" settles, I decided updating the blog would be a good way to keep from disturbing anyone else's rest.

Don't forget your smile

If nothing unexpected comes up, at this time next Monday we'll be in a plane headed homeward. Our first week of vacation was enjoyable. I have coughed quite a bit more than normal, but as long as I keep taking the 12-hour Mucinex every 10 hours I've been fine. (As far back as I can remember I've needed to take stronger doses of medicine than "normal" people -- and usually for longer periods of time than others. When my 4 wisdom teeth were pulled, they told me the dose of anesthesia I took should have put someone twice my weight out.)

This morning I donned my favorite winter-time t-shirt: it's a large yellow smiley face wearing a Santa hat. It works rather well at home in south Florida as well as indoors here in Pennsylvania. On the occasions I've gone outside here, I make sure to bring along an extra flannel shirt and hooded, lined, wind-breaker.

Before breakfast my wife informed me she wanted to go shopping at the shops at "The Promenade." I offered to go with her to "Help watch the kids," which is code for, "Please don't leave me home -- alone -- with the Varmints 3 -- again -- for several hours -- on my vacation!!" She doesn't know the code, yet; I expect it won't be long before she deciphers it.

I'm not exactly certain what attraction "The Promenade" has here in PA. I can understand a bunch of shops grouped together, all with exterior exits (and no interior connecting hallways) in south Florida (if the sidewalks have awnings or some other type of rain protection). I understand it in Florida because it's warm there. We only get a few weeks of weather cold enough to warrant breaking out my flannel shirts. However, here in PA it gets cold -- and very windy -- and sometimes there are large patches of snow and ice to traverse when walking and driving outside. Perhaps outdoor shops are a novelty?

Whatever the attraction, we went. It was cold -- and windy -- and although there was no ice on the ground, little white flakes of snow were whipping past us. After a quick walk-through of L.L. Bean (the Varmints 3 enjoyed peering into the fish tank, Daddy liked browsing through the various multi-tools, and Mommy just wanted to be able to say she'd "Been there"), we decided to go down to Barnes & Noble. The wind was chilly, so we didn't dawdle.

The Varmints 3 weren't impressed with Barnes & Noble. They did enjoy digging under the clearance table in the bins of stuffed Halloween toys -- for all of 30 seconds. Then they admired the various tractor calendars -- that lasted less time than digging in the bins. Then we discovered the Children's section. It had a Thomas the Train table set up (and track glued down) to amuse the little people. I quickly went to the clearance tables, and after a bit, picked 3 books. (I was rather pleased that my 3 books retailed over $75, but only cost me $10.) I went back to "supervise" the train table with the Varmints 3 -- and had a good time with the turntable, roundhouse, and miscellaneous rolling stock they had put out for the children. The other small kids were surprised to see a Daddy on the floor playing with trains, so I got a few free hugs before my wife finished and we left.

Our fun had not yet begun. On the way back my wife and I convinced her Mom, that since we were already out, they should stop for groceries, while I took the kids, went down the road to the gas station, and filled the tank. This car automatically locks all the doors when it's put in drive, or park, or switched into reverse. I've never seen a car lock itself up so often. Before leaving the grocery store I took the ignition key off of the ring (so they could swipe the little discount tag at the checkout). Upon getting out at the gas station, I had the presence of mind to grab my windbreaker (the wind was briskly driving the snowflakes across the top of the hill) and the car key, but didn't think to grab my flannel shirt -- or check to be sure the doors were unlocked before closing my door. I did however, check it AFTER I closed it: the doors were not unlocked. Even better, the ignition key doesn't open any locks (a supposed "safety" feature). Best of all, neither "Nana" nor "Pop pop" have ever used the electronic keypad to unlock the doors -- they don't even know if it works! (In my mind, that just did not compute; why would you purchase a car and not ask if everything on it worked?) While pumping the gas, I calmly called my wife -- so as not to cause a panic in the backseat.

The guy in the store liked my Smiley t-shirt with the Christmas hat. He even laughed when I told him it was a "Little colder here than it is at home in Florida." When I got back to the car, Little Bear was very unhappy when I didn't immediately open the door and get in the car. It didn't help to play "peek-a-boo" either -- he freaked out and tears were flowing immediately. Neither Tank nor Sugee Boogee cried though. They matter-of-factly attempted to unhook their car-seat belts. Little Bear was so hysterical his attempts to help them were only a hindrance.

After 20 minutes of coaxing and talking to them through the windows, Tank was disturbed that he still couldn't unhook his belt or get out of his coat -- he REALLY wanted to unlock the door for me -- he wanted to be first. Sugee Boogee was 3/4 of the way out of her car-seat and could reach the lock, but lacked the strength, knowledge, or concern of the boys. Content in her own little world, she calmly played with her seat, sang songs, and waved at me. Little Bear, still bawling uncontrollably, finally wriggled himself up out of the middle seat belt. He unlocked the door as my wife called for the last time (I lost track of the number of calls that went back and forth).

A good Samaritan at the grocery store overheard a phone conversation and offered to bring her (and the rest of the keyring) up to the gas station to let us into the car. She thanked the nice lady as she got out of her car, and waited at the store for our return. It's a good thing she called that last time, I wouldn't have been there when they arrived.

This evening after dinner, Little Bear looked at my t-shirt and said, "I think you are a Smiley man because of your smiley shirt." I tried to explain that we shouldn't forget our smile when scary things happen, because Jesus is watching over us, but he was more interested in hiding under the bed, and not missing his turn in the bathtub. It was an eventful day -- but I just realized, I forgot to ask if they even needed to swipe the little discount tag at the grocery store.

Thankful Random-ness & Multitudinous Blessings

As the year closes, I've been considering a number of various items. So many that I couldn't possibly blog everything in a coherent or cohesive manner. Consequently, I feel it's my duty to inform you: This post will be disjointed, but, in spite of that, will still (hopefully) convey a glimmering of my thoughts.

Blessings:
- great wife (patient, loving, compassionate, even-tempered)
- Little Bear is alive, healthy, and normal -- in spite of the DRs' predictions
- so are the twins
- Varmint #4 is on his (or her) way
- have a great pastor, a very good church, & (soon) a hard-working assoc pastor
- able to work (& have more job offers than I can accept)
- our mini van has needed minimal repairs... since 2003!!
- my new (to me) trumpet


Things I enjoy:
- the twins' nap-time (Mommy likes it more)
- Sunday church services (even if I preach)
- Organic candy (candy that's good for me -- imagine that!!)
- receiving a backrub (without asking for it -- "just because")
- King's Kids on Wednesday nights
- helping others
- listening to Little Bear pretend to preach, lead singing, prepare messages, & volunteer to do special music for church: "so Daddy doesn't have to do so much"
- Publix Premium Eggnog ice cream... need I say more?
- finding "new" passages in my Bible that somehow I've missed over the years
- grimy little hands that want to give me hugs (& dirty little faces that still want to kiss my "scratchy-face")
- watching the Varmints 3 grow, develop new skills, & learn new things
- reading a book (OK... several books)
- listening to good, conservative music (our "christian" radio stations aren't)
- finding money (& saving it, & receiving it, & getting gift cards, etc...)
- building things for the Varmints 3 -- and watching them enjoy them
- feeding cows (a few of them let me pet them)
- being given a box of new (to me) books to read
- keeping informed of what's happening in the lives of friends & family thru their blogs and Facebook pages
- petting the neighbor's Rottweiler (she's 100+ lbs, & thinks she's a lapdog)


Things I like:
- being the best Boggler in a small church =D
- cool & nifty new gadgets, and I really want a bug (of course, then I'd feel like I must teach myself to program them, so it's probably best I don't)
- getting a start on cataloging all our books at LibraryThing (if you don't want to click the link, scroll down this page and you'll see a list of random book covers on the left -- altho for some reason a few don't show the covers)
- the versatility of e-Sword (free Bible study program)
- being able to renew my library books online
- having an alternative to Wikipedia -- even if it isn't complete yet