Squirrels in the Ladies Room..

Sometime ago I started a post with the above title. It was the week before Christmas, and a family of squirrels found its way into the 2nd floor ladies room of Mumford Hall. All the screaming and running that you are likely imagining actually happened. In addition they tore up quite a bit of the wood work. My momma told me to never trust a squirrel.

All I want for Christmas.

Forrest Gump's mama didn't quite get it right.

Life is actually like asking a 3 year old, "What do you want for Christmas? You never know what you're gonna get."

We bravely asked this of our little shaver. His answer was as sweet as his tone in saying it.

"I want a Christmas Tree."

He had a look on his face just like Cindylou Who as he spoke.

Last night we put up the tree. Despite being warned about breakable ornaments and having to endure my explanation to him that "Christmas trees are not so much for hugging" he seemed to have a fantastic time.

And then..

This morning he toddled from his room, gave me a big sleepy hug and sat down right in front of the tree

....just to look at it.

"Daddy, can you turn on the lights?"
"Sure sweetie."

Marathon

Marathon runs in my family. My great-grandfather worked the oil boom for the company that later became Ohio Oil (maybe Standard Oil), which later became the Marathon Oil Company. My grandfather worked the oil fields straight out of high school and worked his way up to regional managment of the oils fields of Crawford County/Southern Illinois and Indiana. My dad, one year and 3 three months after I was born returned from Military service to work for Marathon. A few years later my Uncle, (my mother's brother) got on with the Marathon Pipeline. I come from a strong race of Marathon men.

I remember in the 80s when Exxon Moblie was threatening to buy out the company and everyone I knew gathered around the county courthouse for a parade/demostration. I was young, but I remember it as vividly as the bright red shirt and hat I was wearing. The shirt said in large white letters (My Dad and Grandpa Work for Marathon, and the back I think it said "and uncle too") I remember the feeling of solidarity and deep and abiding purpose. Of wanting whatever it was that everyone else wanted...so badly!

My granddad has since retired, My dad has over thirty years in with the company (now Marathon Ashland), and my uncle spends much of his time at the company headquarters as a trusted advisor to the big cheeses. While I don't have pumpjacks, injection wells, and tank batteries in my future, I have recently joined their ranks....

Growing up I remember that the gas station on the corner of Adams and Main in Oblong had a large oval sign with a half naked Greek runner on it. The sign said; "Marathon Best in the Long Run." That runner was Pheidippides the runner said to have run the 26.2 Miles from Marathon to Athens to bring the news of the battle. As I understand it he died. Thankfully I didn't

Today I ran 26.2 miles as a participant in the Chicago Marathon.

Now I'm a Marathon Man too...

Space...The Final Golden Calf

I decided to click on my own blogger profile today and I then decided to click on the book "The Man Who Was Thursday" by GK Chesterton.  I wanted to see who else in the world listed this book as a favorite.  I found a German twenty something who likes punk rock and heavy drinking.  But I also found someone named Stacey...  From Stacey's profile I found a link to something called - Solomon's Porch - http://www.solomonsporch.com/

Dig this quote:  "Solomon's Porch is a community seeking to live the dreams and love of God in the way of Jesus. As part of this effort, we maintain a meeting space at 100 W 46th Street in South Minneapolis. While we use our facility for Sunday evening worship gatherings, Bible studies, meals, internet café, art exhibitions, and events, we are very aware that our community exists wherever the people of Solomon's Porch find themselves. In this way, our Christian lives are not limited to what we officially do in our meeting space, but are expressed through our lives."

What other Spaces are limiting the way I do life?  Causing me to unnecessarily compartmentalize things that were intended to be a healthy part of the greater whole?

Cut to .5 by Darth Vader

"Nothing could be better for an entrepreneur then to have their company shut down by Apple or Microsoft. It's like Obi-wan getting cut in half by Darth Vadar with the knowledge that you'll come back stronger. Apple cuts your startup in half and you're made for live--you were killed by Steve Jobs. Wear it like a badge of honor."
--Calacanis

Trying Something New

This is my first shot at using Windows Live Writer to write a blog entry.  So far it's kind of cool. I am about to hit publish and we'll see how it looks.

Just call me Pheidippides (kind of)

On May 6, 2006 I ran 13.1 miles through the streets of Indianapolis, Indiana. Here are some key points.

1. 13.1 miles = exactly 1/2 of a marathon, which = 26.2 miles, or the distance between the ancient Greek city states Marathon and Athens.

2. It is important to note that I was not being chased by a dog or coerced into doing this.

3. I finished in 2 hours 47min. Slightly ahead of the old ladies brigade carrying their Oxygen tanks.

4. I"m actually considering doing it again, and maybe even the whole distance instead of just half.

5. I'm the guy in the blue shirt on the left.

English is tough stuff!

Dearest creature in creation,

study English pronunciation.

I will teach you in my verse

sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.

I will keep you, Suzy, busy,

make your head and heart grow dizzy.

Tear in eye, your dress will tear,

so shall I! Oh hear my prayer.

When you correctly say croquet.

rounded, wounded, grieve and sleeve,

scenic, Arabic, pacific,

science, conscience, scientific,

tour, but our, and succour, four,

gas and alas and Arkansas.

Sea, idea, guinea, area,

psalm, Maria, but malaria;

youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean,

neither does devour with clangour;

soul but foul, and gaunt but aunt,

font, front, wont; want, grand and grant;

shows, goes, does; now first say finger,

and then singer, ginger, linger;

real, zeal, mauve, gauze, and gauge,

marriage, foliage, mirage, age.

Query does not rhyme with very,

neither does fury sound like bury,

dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth,

job, Job, bosom, oath;

though the difference seems little,

we say actual but victual;

refer does not rhyme with "deafer,"

foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer;

dull bull; and George, ate, late;

mint, pint, senate and sedate,

barn but earn, and wear and tear

do not rhyme with "here" and "ere."

Seven is right, but so is even,

hyphen, roughen, nephew, Stephen;

monkey, donkey, clerk and jerk,

ask, grasp, wasp; and cork and work;

doctrine, turpentine, marine;

dandelion with battalion;

sally with ally, yea, ye,

eye, I, ay, aye, whey, key, quay;

pronunciation -- think of Psyche!

Is a paling stout and spikey?

Won't it make you lose your wits

writing groats and saying grits!

-cut and pasted from: http://esperanto-usa.org/?q=node/84

How's your spiritual life going?

Its a common question. Well meaning church people ask it all the time. I've asked it, or some variant of it this week. All that being said, its kind of a bad question.

What exactly do I mean, by asking How's your spiritual life going? When someone asks me that I routinely respond with something like. (in a hang-dog voice) ...I'm not spending as much time with God as I should or as I want to...I need to pray more etc.

I like what John Ortberb said:

"Are you becoming more loving toward God and toward people? this...is the supreme spiritual diagnostic for Christ-followers who want to please him."


How am I changing? How are you changing? Are you changing? Without changing I'm just going through the motions, I'm just tying Bible verses to my head, and sitting on a cloth folding myself in half and facing east.

The question "How's your spiritual life going?" also compartmentalizes life more than I think God intends. Col 3:17 "Whatever you do whether in word or deed do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus."

I like what Brother Lawrence said:

"...(W)hat makes you think that God is absent from the maintenance shop but present in the chapel?...Holiness doesn't depend on changing our jobs, but in doing for God's sake what we have been used to doing for our own."

I want to be like that.


---
This post was inspired and adapted from Fully Devoted by John Ortberg et. al.

I have Dreams - Parental Guidance Suggested on this Post

I have dreams. Often I have the kind of dreams that trick me into thinking that they are reality while I'm having them. Mostly my dreams are stupid. Sometime they are terrifying, occasionally they are profound.

Recently I had dream that I was back in my old home town of Oblong, Illinois 62449. The details have become somewhat sketchy, but the emotions and major plot points remain. I owned some sort of business in the fair city of Oblong, and during a discussion with a rival businessman tempers flaired. The day was sunny, and the scene of the arguement was within view of my Aunt Patsy's garden. Aunt Patsy's garden is a unique collection of heirloom plants, native grasses, and whatever happened to be new and on sale in the seed catalog. There are no rows to speak of, but in good years the asymetrical patterns of vegetables, flowers, herbs and weeds are to me more pleasant than any formal English garden. I feel her humble kind heart beat in the tall purple okra and vining stretching summer sqarsh [sic].

While within view of this place that is so special to my heart, I was standing in a fictitious cinderblock out building, It was pure white, with perhaps freshly paint blocks.

...As the words escalated I felt increasingly frightened and threatened. After that it was somthing of a blur. I am still aware of my arms flailing and of some heavy blunt object in my right hand. The first strike was awkward, and felt I had to strike again or risk being swallowed in the fury of my rival's retaliation. When I felt the blow land I knew what had just happened. I had ended him. He fell limp and the crimson reflection on the floor was mine. It was a mess. I was at first terrified and then intensely focused. I hid the body. I'm not sure where.

Where ever it was it was not good enough. It was found. I was caught. The authorities were on the way to arrest me. My life was over. I had committed murder. The gravest desparation shrouded me. In a moment contemplated running, fighting, lying. I couldn' though. I was guilty. Any excuse was weak, and attempt to justify what I had done was completely out of the question. I don't know if its possible to convey the feeling that gripped me.

The sirens of the Sheriff's department were approaching...they were odd sirens...

They were in fact the whine of my ridiculous alarm clock.. I had been asleep. I was awake, and it was Easter Morning 2006.

I felt the Mercy of Christ ring through my being at that moment. I could not sigh deeply enough to signal my relief. I was caught, I was guilty, I was as good as on the galloes. For some reason beyond my understanding, it was his good pleasure to erase my sin.

Smoke on my clothes

"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered."
- Tom Stoppard

ACID PLANET

I just discovered ACID Planet. I like it, I discovered it last Wednesday when surfing out a daydream I had about selling one of my old Euphoniums. Why I have old Euphoniums and exactly what a Euphonium is, is another blog entry entirely. That being said, I found this guy who had posted all of his recorded Euphonium recordings on ACID Planet. Dozens and Dozens of tracks, and they were all pretty well done, as far as Euphonium recitals go.

Anyhow, in order to download the files I had to register, and when I did I discovered there was lots more independent/ original music on this site. Lots & Lots. Some of it is really good too. I have my account set only to see PG and lower ratings so I have no idea exactly how much there is but I'd say I've browsed close to 500 songs.

I have only ventured in to the instumental and electronic music, I'm scared of anything with lyrics right now, but I have discovered an unknown affinity for trance/goa music. I find that, if I put some on, I just fly through emails, and reading, and just am generally really productive on tasks that don't require human interaction. cool

Checkout Aidan Browne's "a secret rendezvous". Most of his music is guitar driven new agey stuff, I like it. I also like "Mass Hyonosis" by Infinite Dimensions.

Dear Afghan Judge - Touche

Afghan President Hamid Karzai, looks on while wearing his new "Realtree" Islamic beanie. Does anyone else think this guy looks like Dave Giammaria?





Time.com has a story about the trial and immemient death sentence of Abdul Rahman a recent convert to Christianity. The angle that Time is taking is that the president Hamid Karzai has a tight rope to walk in trying to please the people of his country, who according to the Time article want Mr. Rahman executed under the tenants of Islamic "Sharia" law. This of course being in direct contrast to every western nation with troops in the country, who are demanding that the man be set free.

The presiding judge in the case, Ansarullah Maulavizada is quoted as saying:

“In the West you allow two women to get married because that is the law and I respect that,” ...“In Afghanistan, we have Sharia law and the people respect and accept this.”

Touche
-jkh

On Tordoes and Vaction - a poem

I shall never forget that fateful day
When in my parents green Oldmobile I mispelled the word tornado.
I wanted to appear calm so I spelled it and did not say
it, because it seemed like what a grown up would do.

I didn't want to alarm my little brother in the seat by me
Well, kind of by me because those were the days when seatbelts
were a nuisance, and we would roam the car free.
You see the clouds were dark and winds were fierce as well climbed the hill in front of the
Stoy road stop sign.

In a sort of whispery wimper I eeked it out letter by letter.
I really didn't understand why my parents had such a long goofy pause.
Why my mom hid her mouth under her sweater,
and laughed because
I had spelled it wrong - ( you know the nose covered laugh, kind of like when someone farted in
6th grade study hall)

I would have turned more red right then
and been really embarassed had she not ran right into the back of the car in front
of us. I"m sure when
she reads this she won't recall the wreck, in fact I'm not entirely sure it ever happened...

It's one of those foggy memories of youth.

Later after I got married, I found out my wife had a similar story about mispelling the word vacation in a note to her parents. I'm sure that there was some kind of insurance conjuring event that happened after it too, there always is...

- end

P.S. Dear Cap, you asked for it.

Anonymous, who needs it?

I promised to rant on the evils of anonymous journalism. However, I have lost the urge. My comment is if you have something to say.. sign your name to it. Chesterton says,

"It is quite true that there is a young and beautiful fanaticism in which men do not care to reveal there names. But there is a more elderly and much more common excitement in which men do not dare to reveal them." - G.K. Chesterson All Things Considered

I tend to agree with him. If only all the anonimonty that folks crave was from pure motive then I wouldn't mind it. Then it would be something of humility, a virture instead of a vice. I mean how often does someone write a New York Times best sellar and not mind who gets the credit (and the royalties) for it.