Jeff Mason quit Seminary. Stunning news that he just gave me permission to share. Weird. I think he is really happy with his decision but at the same time he feels a great loyalty and did not arrive at the decision lightly.
In other news, Dick Campbell is not long for this world. He has suffered over 14 years with Parkinson's Disease and recently underwent brain surgery to help relieve some of his symptoms with disasterous results. We wish him and his family all the best.
The Devils play tomorrow. Oregon. I predict another loss at the hands of a great Pac-10 team. I have never understood why it is that a coach gets fired when the players are the ones who do or do not win. Until now. Our coach, Dirk, is not qualified to lead a Pac-10 team in my opinion. Why do I think that? First, his teams don't ever seem ready to play. Second, they jump offsides, and commit other mental errors that point directly to coaching. Third, I have never seen a Dirk-lead team come out of the locker room the second half and change one thing about their execution of the game. They don't come out more fired up, they don't change their schemes, they don't play with more despiration, they don't play more motivated. Fourth, I can't understand why our defensive secondary won't turn around and look up for the ball. Yes, this is the secondary coach, but if I'm the head coach, I have seen some good players do it right and I watch my players do it wrong and I kick some collective buttocks.
I put all these things on an aweful coach.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Puppy Love
Not only will I refer the time period by music, but the titles will also be song titles. This will signify to you that I am writing about the past so you can skip these posts. They may bore you, you see.
Just when Janice and Jimmy bought it, I found my first love. I actually had a girlfriend all through Ingleside grade school. Ingleside was K-8 at the time and there were literally 8th graders running around on the same playgrounds where we played. We were not allowed on certain parts of the campus (if you can call a grade school a campus) and if we were caught there, our teacher would read to us out of a Kindergarden book -- See Spot Run kinda stuff to make us feel like babies and emotionally batter us into avoiding the playground of the younger kids.
First, the girl who liked me...third grade. I met this new girl who was nice and she told somebody who told me that she liked me. I decided to like her because she only had one hand. I don't know if I felt badly for her or she was really a nice girl, but I decided to like her. Her name was Dianna Schmidt. She didn't seem the least bit selfconscious of it. She showed it to me and I marvled at the complete lack of hand that she had on her arm. I don't remember the reason she didn't have a hand. I don't remember asking and I don't remember her telling me. Somehow, though, it was OK. Maybe it was kinda exotic to me. I don't know. I do remember her using her non-hand to restrain herself when she had to pee. I would get her laughing and she would laugh and pound to keep herself from peeing. Why do I remember that? I would love to get ahold of her again to see what she is doing.
Next, the girl I liked. Karen Sullivan. I liked Karen because she had the same birthday as me. Of course, she was cool, very cute, and she liked me too. Those very strong attributes and her cute freckles sealed the deal for me. I think she was my girlfriend until I moved away in 6th grade. I remember years later after moving to Mesa I called her on a dare from my friend. I was no better off with women then than I was in third grade so like an idiot I let my friend do the talking. BIG MISTAKE. I still feel badly about this because she probably still thinks I moved away and got really weird. So maybe I did.
I remember having crushes on the older women at Ingleside. I liked Debbie Drain because she ran for office - 8th grade president or something. I remember her name because it was somewhat unusual. It seems she would be about 5 years older than me. In elementary school, that was nearly as old as my mother.
There was one other lady who meant a great deal to me in grade school. Mrs. Snyder or Mrs. Keith, I think, was her name. When I was 8 my brother died of liver cancer. My older brother is Dennis, my younger brother is Marlo. My other younger brother is Richard. Richie as we called him. He was only a few months old when he died. I remember it very well, though I don't remember him. He was just a little baby, you see, like any other. I do remember that my mother had his crib set up in her bedroom. I remember climbing up on Richie's crib bars and looking at him. One day I was sick - a cold or something - and I climbed up to see my brother. I remember my mom scolding me for breathing on him and possibly making him sick. A few weeks later, my brother died. I remember having two distince feelings: 1) if he could die, so could I and 2) because I breathed on him, I caused his death. I guess I was kind of disturbed after that. Enter Mrs. Keith. She ate lunch with me in the cafeteria everyday and made me feel like it was OK. I don't really think I have deep psychological difficulties as a result of this but I do think I carry sympathy to a little bit of an extreme.
Just when Janice and Jimmy bought it, I found my first love. I actually had a girlfriend all through Ingleside grade school. Ingleside was K-8 at the time and there were literally 8th graders running around on the same playgrounds where we played. We were not allowed on certain parts of the campus (if you can call a grade school a campus) and if we were caught there, our teacher would read to us out of a Kindergarden book -- See Spot Run kinda stuff to make us feel like babies and emotionally batter us into avoiding the playground of the younger kids.
First, the girl who liked me...third grade. I met this new girl who was nice and she told somebody who told me that she liked me. I decided to like her because she only had one hand. I don't know if I felt badly for her or she was really a nice girl, but I decided to like her. Her name was Dianna Schmidt. She didn't seem the least bit selfconscious of it. She showed it to me and I marvled at the complete lack of hand that she had on her arm. I don't remember the reason she didn't have a hand. I don't remember asking and I don't remember her telling me. Somehow, though, it was OK. Maybe it was kinda exotic to me. I don't know. I do remember her using her non-hand to restrain herself when she had to pee. I would get her laughing and she would laugh and pound to keep herself from peeing. Why do I remember that? I would love to get ahold of her again to see what she is doing.
Next, the girl I liked. Karen Sullivan. I liked Karen because she had the same birthday as me. Of course, she was cool, very cute, and she liked me too. Those very strong attributes and her cute freckles sealed the deal for me. I think she was my girlfriend until I moved away in 6th grade. I remember years later after moving to Mesa I called her on a dare from my friend. I was no better off with women then than I was in third grade so like an idiot I let my friend do the talking. BIG MISTAKE. I still feel badly about this because she probably still thinks I moved away and got really weird. So maybe I did.
I remember having crushes on the older women at Ingleside. I liked Debbie Drain because she ran for office - 8th grade president or something. I remember her name because it was somewhat unusual. It seems she would be about 5 years older than me. In elementary school, that was nearly as old as my mother.
There was one other lady who meant a great deal to me in grade school. Mrs. Snyder or Mrs. Keith, I think, was her name. When I was 8 my brother died of liver cancer. My older brother is Dennis, my younger brother is Marlo. My other younger brother is Richard. Richie as we called him. He was only a few months old when he died. I remember it very well, though I don't remember him. He was just a little baby, you see, like any other. I do remember that my mother had his crib set up in her bedroom. I remember climbing up on Richie's crib bars and looking at him. One day I was sick - a cold or something - and I climbed up to see my brother. I remember my mom scolding me for breathing on him and possibly making him sick. A few weeks later, my brother died. I remember having two distince feelings: 1) if he could die, so could I and 2) because I breathed on him, I caused his death. I guess I was kind of disturbed after that. Enter Mrs. Keith. She ate lunch with me in the cafeteria everyday and made me feel like it was OK. I don't really think I have deep psychological difficulties as a result of this but I do think I carry sympathy to a little bit of an extreme.
Telling Stories
I wish I were as interesting as my friend Darren. I wish I had a phrase that captured my audience like Darren does. All Darren had to say was, "Well, before I went to rehab..." and he had us. The story that followed that phrase had all the thrill, sting, and linger of an episode of Cops, Jerry Springer, and Miami Vice in one.
In an attempt to assemble some sort of journal, I will, from time to time, relate a memory of childhood. I must come up with a phrase signifying my transition from contemporary events to past, age-improved experiences. Maybe I should say, "...before I went to Japan," or "...when I was still a virgin," or "...before my dad died." I don't think any of those conjure the curiosity and breathless anticipation that 'before I went to rehab' does, but at least it sets a timeline. Maybe just a date or a season will suffice. What if I cite the concurrent music. "So, when Saturday Night Fever filled the airwaves..." or "When Burning Down the House by Talking Heads was popular..."
So, the other day, in 1969, when Janice and Jimmy died, I was 8.
In an attempt to assemble some sort of journal, I will, from time to time, relate a memory of childhood. I must come up with a phrase signifying my transition from contemporary events to past, age-improved experiences. Maybe I should say, "...before I went to Japan," or "...when I was still a virgin," or "...before my dad died." I don't think any of those conjure the curiosity and breathless anticipation that 'before I went to rehab' does, but at least it sets a timeline. Maybe just a date or a season will suffice. What if I cite the concurrent music. "So, when Saturday Night Fever filled the airwaves..." or "When Burning Down the House by Talking Heads was popular..."
So, the other day, in 1969, when Janice and Jimmy died, I was 8.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Friday, September 15, 2006
And the walls came down...
So, today was demo day. Oh, sure, you thought it was last Friday when we had to be out of our family room, right? Well, the kitchen was killed and the master was broken and the walls are down. The trusses and patio go on tomorrow morning.
So, in preparation for demo day, I had to get the rest of the cabinets and the appliances out of the kitchen. This filled the 40-yard dumpster we have and it had to be dumped. The only time I have to work on anything is at night. Did you know that Mesa, AZ has a law prohibiting construction from occurring after 6:00pm? Neither did I. That is until my neighbor came over in her camesol and explained in testy terms that there were ordinances against this sort of thing. So, I politely explained that we were done and that we would not have to bother her beauty sleep (8:00pm by the way and she had obviously missed many other beauty sessions if you catch my drift). I was nice. After I got her laughing, she asked me to convince her husband to make her house bigger. I declined.
Here are some more pictures to give you an idea of the nastiness that is our lives...
Monday, September 11, 2006
Friday, September 08, 2006
TheBeam
OK, so I have trusses, I have beams, I have wood, but most of all I have trauma. You see, we are moving out of the back half of our house. That means the furniture has to move out. Normally, this would never occur evidenced by the fact that the indentations in the carpet look like Noriega's face.
The beams are gigantic. Heavy. Nasty. It took me and a couple of boys to move them. My framer picked one up and threw it on his shoulder and moved it back to the back yard by himself. I swore quietly to myself. How can I be the man when he is the man. I can say that I moved all the furniture by myself. That was painful but nothing I own is as heavy as a beam. Not even my beam bag chair. Sorry. I had to.
So the trusses go up tomorrow and a hole will be agape in my roof. Should be a blast.
The beams are gigantic. Heavy. Nasty. It took me and a couple of boys to move them. My framer picked one up and threw it on his shoulder and moved it back to the back yard by himself. I swore quietly to myself. How can I be the man when he is the man. I can say that I moved all the furniture by myself. That was painful but nothing I own is as heavy as a beam. Not even my beam bag chair. Sorry. I had to.
So the trusses go up tomorrow and a hole will be agape in my roof. Should be a blast.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Translation Score
My friend and I were talking about credit scores the other day on the way in to the ASU football game. Yes, football has started, we just forgot to tell ASU. That is for another rant.
Credit scores are asymptotic in nature. The more credit you amass, the closer to prefect you get. You can get infinitely close, but can never achieve a perfect score because the very act of inquiring about your score lowers your score. As you gain credit score prefection, you borrow, pay, and never delay. The accepted score range is between 450 and 850. But if you have such a great credit score -- say 840-- you probably don't need to borrow. So, you have a great score which means you don't borrow money and therefore take a score hit because you don't borrow money. Asymtotic or Assninetotic?
My credit score is good. My wife is protective of it to a fault. She is vigilant. She is never late paying bills, always keeps us current, and inquires whenever any event may negatively impact our credit score. If the answer is yes, by the way, heaven help the individual who threatens our credit score. She will snarl and posture and threaten the threatener much like a mother bear protects her young -- which may be some form of assault. Let's ask the attorneys.
Of course, this got me thinking. We as mortals must have a translation score. Stick with me, here, I actually may make some sense. OK, it's doubtful, but here it goes...We, as fallen, sinning mortals, have an imperfect translation score -- where a perfect score of 850 gets you translated. The whole city of Enoc had 850's so when the last guy did his final perfecting deed, the whole city was translated. I'm guessing that event looked something like 8500 bottle rockets going off. Not sure what that would look like? Look at this.
Let's say I wanted to perfect my translation score. I'm feeling pretty righteous but maybe not enough to actually be translated. I try things to elevate my score, but all the while decreasing it for a number of reasons - not the lease of which is the act of trying to elevate it. I submit that the Enocians were able to elevate their scores precisely because they did not know they had a translation score to elevate. 'Checking' the score, if you will, degrades the purity of raising the score. Asymptote. This is why I will never be translated. Regardless of how wholesome and pure I am, I know I have a score, I wonder what the score is, and I am not humble enough to ignore the score and expect that it will elevate on its own. So, no twinkling for me. Bummer.
I'm also glad my whole body gets translated together. I don't think my elbows do much sinning so it would be a little disconcerting if just my elbows were translated leaving my sinning spleen to fend for itself.
Credit scores are asymptotic in nature. The more credit you amass, the closer to prefect you get. You can get infinitely close, but can never achieve a perfect score because the very act of inquiring about your score lowers your score. As you gain credit score prefection, you borrow, pay, and never delay. The accepted score range is between 450 and 850. But if you have such a great credit score -- say 840-- you probably don't need to borrow. So, you have a great score which means you don't borrow money and therefore take a score hit because you don't borrow money. Asymtotic or Assninetotic?
My credit score is good. My wife is protective of it to a fault. She is vigilant. She is never late paying bills, always keeps us current, and inquires whenever any event may negatively impact our credit score. If the answer is yes, by the way, heaven help the individual who threatens our credit score. She will snarl and posture and threaten the threatener much like a mother bear protects her young -- which may be some form of assault. Let's ask the attorneys.
Of course, this got me thinking. We as mortals must have a translation score. Stick with me, here, I actually may make some sense. OK, it's doubtful, but here it goes...We, as fallen, sinning mortals, have an imperfect translation score -- where a perfect score of 850 gets you translated. The whole city of Enoc had 850's so when the last guy did his final perfecting deed, the whole city was translated. I'm guessing that event looked something like 8500 bottle rockets going off. Not sure what that would look like? Look at this.
Let's say I wanted to perfect my translation score. I'm feeling pretty righteous but maybe not enough to actually be translated. I try things to elevate my score, but all the while decreasing it for a number of reasons - not the lease of which is the act of trying to elevate it. I submit that the Enocians were able to elevate their scores precisely because they did not know they had a translation score to elevate. 'Checking' the score, if you will, degrades the purity of raising the score. Asymptote. This is why I will never be translated. Regardless of how wholesome and pure I am, I know I have a score, I wonder what the score is, and I am not humble enough to ignore the score and expect that it will elevate on its own. So, no twinkling for me. Bummer.
I'm also glad my whole body gets translated together. I don't think my elbows do much sinning so it would be a little disconcerting if just my elbows were translated leaving my sinning spleen to fend for itself.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Chaos in Pictures
Here is a picture from the shed. Which is where we should be living now. But we aren't. We're in the house. And, last night it rained. Fortunately, there isn't too much exposed as of yet. I will post the rest of the pix. They are self explanitory.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Are you still going to live there?
Well, the problem with the question as to whether we will remain living in the house depends on you definition of live. We will dwell here, in the part of the house that is not gutted and removed, until the construction is completed. I do own another kitchen. In the trailer. This we will use as a makeshift kitchen, much as the pioneers did, with Sundays off at Marlo's.
I will post some pix more often as I think the memory of the chapter (as Deanne calls it) of our lives will be comical to reflect upon when we are old and it hits the fan. (as Richard puts it)
Today we are going to look at and secure appliances and flooring. Here's the scoop: The appliances are shown below. Debi is mad that we don't have gas. (fill in your own joke here) She is trying to find reasonable replacements for these appliances and still kinda look like we have gas. (another joke here)
This morning I met my family (minus Dennis, add Brandon) for breakfast as we have for years and years on the first Saturday of each month. Well, check that, we have just started this tradition and have yet to have the whole family there, but still, the intent is there. Here is what I learned: Marci's Melons aren't ripe yet, Marlo's website should have been shown to Dennis but he wasn't there, Jake awoke at 6:00am READY FOR SOCCER, Abby is a bass champion and I am the proud owner of a new Hong Kong bass, there was more but I don't remember now. I'll add more if I think of it.
I will post some pix more often as I think the memory of the chapter (as Deanne calls it) of our lives will be comical to reflect upon when we are old and it hits the fan. (as Richard puts it)
Today we are going to look at and secure appliances and flooring. Here's the scoop: The appliances are shown below. Debi is mad that we don't have gas. (fill in your own joke here) She is trying to find reasonable replacements for these appliances and still kinda look like we have gas. (another joke here)
This morning I met my family (minus Dennis, add Brandon) for breakfast as we have for years and years on the first Saturday of each month. Well, check that, we have just started this tradition and have yet to have the whole family there, but still, the intent is there. Here is what I learned: Marci's Melons aren't ripe yet, Marlo's website should have been shown to Dennis but he wasn't there, Jake awoke at 6:00am READY FOR SOCCER, Abby is a bass champion and I am the proud owner of a new Hong Kong bass, there was more but I don't remember now. I'll add more if I think of it.
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