"it's been a while." -staind


first of all, how cool are you if you can get away with naming your band staind without the "e", act all mopey and disturbed, sell millions of records, make tons of cash, and then be nowhere close to the radar a few years later? staind cool is how cool. i bet that guy wishes he never was friends with fred durst. you know? the frontman for that also now forgotten but sold tons of records and made bunches of cash band limp bizkit? god, i loved me some limp bizkit. went to a limp bizkit concert with my cousin richy. loved it!!! it was the darkest, dankiest pit of a club i have ever been in, but they rocked the motherscratchin' house that night. oh, wes borland and your crazy make-up...

anywho...i digress.

second of all, we are moved. no, we are nowhere close to "settled". the boxes are not all "unpacked". and no, we do not yet have dining room chairs to go along with our dining room table. things could be worse. we could still be crammed into ascot place. but we aren't. we are free from those handcuffs dammit! the move went extraordinarily smooth (for us) this time around. no truck malfunctions. no bad weather. the sun even stayed behind the clouds for us for the first half of the day. sure, we tried to kill heath, but the doctors at the er assured him he was not having a heart attack, and so we move on. i feel like i am about to fall back into messenger mode, but the move would not have been so event free had it not been for some amazing friends and family. along with the aforementioned heath (who was entirely helpful before his body malfunctioned), who chickened out on us due to something he called "chest pains", there was the always there kiker. what would we do without kiker? well, we would have to pay three people for everything that kiker ends up doing for us on moving day. i don't know the official count, but kiker vila has moved me now, like, five or six times in as many years and has never complained. not once. he's the fucking man. there was andy. andy took time away from pissing off the good people of hopewell baptist church to come lend a serious hand and sense of humor. who knew so much laughing would ensue on the way to making our backs and forearms and fingertips so incredibly sore. there was joseph. pulled into duty yet again because of the unfortunate reality that his sisters move way too much. even sick and with something he called "homework" and a "back to school bash" on his mind, he put in a half day. there was my dad. i know. readers of this nonsense i call a blog just breathed a collective "what the fuck?", but it's true. dad and i seem to somehow not be able to escape the fact that we are related, no matter how hard we try. maybe we are trying to turn over a new leaf again. more on this later, but for the day, he was a trooper and in it 'til the bloody (or at least sweaty end). and then of course, there was marie. i have to say, if i had to be trapped in a life foxhole, i could be trapped with a much worse and less reliable life foxhole partner than marie. the children crump, hargraves and florence must and do know how lucky they are to have a mother as invested and loving as she. i am only lucky to play a role on the periphery of their family play. needless to say, the bitter or bloody or sweaty end to this, our move has not reared its head yet to marie. so thanks to amazing friends and amazing family, our moving day has come and gone and we are home.

wait a second. hannah is correcting me.

"not home, daddy. we are in our new house."

oh yeah.

according to blogs, livejournals and the sort, we are all experts.


after revisiting the matrix trilogy a couple of weeks ago, i've come to this conclusion. there is no super-hero...ever...that ranks as high on the bad-ass-ometer as neo (my friend cookie will probably disagree). i had forgotten how goosebump inducing the second and third movies were to watch. to watch neo inside the matrix, bending the rules of that universe because he understood that, in that universe, there were only self-induced rules. rules that most plugged in to the matrix were happy to live by, but rules still that could be circumvented if one allowed his or her mind to drive around the speedbumps. what a wonderful metaphor for the world we live in today. if only i could manipulate this world like neo could manipulate the matrix...

if only i could fly, or be stronger or download kung-fu without putting in the years of training...

of course, that's why we have the movies. that's why we have blogs...

to continue the thought down matrix lane, here we are the trainmen and women. here we make the rules. but do we? a friend of mine wrote in his own blog this week about how we still need to understand the consequences of what we write. about how eyes that may happen across our worlds may not understand where we/i are coming from. and therefore we/i should temper our thoughts if we are unwilling to sleep in the bed of words that we make.

i suppose i agree with his sentiment, but still, i lay terribly unhappy with the thought. i can choose to let my thoughts go and share an honesty with those that read my thoughts that i might not be able to articulate out loud. but if i let my thoughts run without a governor, i have to worry about who i might upset, who i might offend, who may feel like i am talking about them. or i can choose to be so vague that when i look back a week removed from writing, even i don't remember what the hell i was talking about.

i don't like the vague idea. what's the point? i still harbor the idea that hannah may one day read my thoughts, and i want her to know what was going on without having to decipher my code to get the point. i've never been one, though, to intentionally try and hurt, anger, or confuse anyone either. i've wanted to, but even here, i guess i have already censored myself. that's too bad.

so i am not even the trainman here. and i am nowhere close to being neo. not in this "matrix" and definitely not in the real world. because i am chickenshit. that's too bad too.

what's worse? seeing the light and being too scared to walk towards it? or not seeing it at all?

i don't know.

far be it from me to be vitriolic...
(hannah and me...part thirteen)

ed. note - i wasn't at church on sunday, and for once, this has nothing to do with humc.

...but there is just too much sticking in my crawl at the moment not to be. firstly, and i am not going to drop any names here, but boy is it a lot easier to preach a sermon than live it. and this is something that i have struggled with, myself, and will continue to struggle with for the length of time that i continue leaving "messages" here or living messages in my daily life. not one time when i have stood in front of a group of students or a small church plant congregation or a handful of employees did i not struggle with the words coming out of my mouth matching up with the character i displayed outside of the "church" environment. sometimes they did. sometimes they do. sometimes they don't. but here's the part the rubs me the wrong way. you are not above accountability just because your feeling of being "called by god" has been affirmed by some denomination's board of ministry or equivalent. you are not above being called on the carpet when someone disagrees with you or your approach. you are not above being wrong. you are not a more credible commentator on society because your occuptation requires you to "preach" from a pulpit. you are not any more observant or worldly or wise. and if you believe or misunderstand otherwise, you need better friends. friends that will tell you when you are wrong or misguided. friends that will make you accountable. or a wife. or a child. you need to back up off this idea that your "sacrifice" is worth a lifetime of moral immunity. moving on...

hannah, apart from the ambiguous rant above, today has been a good day. your room is almost ready for you. yes, we'll have to do something about those shelves, but your carpet is clean, your room is a beautiful purple fit for a queen, and we are less than two weeks away from being in our new house. how fun.

hannah's been an interesting character the last month or so. her memory is striking and the way she is putting together sentences is just a tad scary. her mom found herself counting the words to one of her run-on's a few days ago and i wondered to myself when the last time was that i used eleven words in a sentence that i didn't type. she makes no qualms anymore (most of the time) about cleaning up. she loves to help with everything. instead of everything being completely instinctual and reactionary, you can literally see her understanding and processsing her actions now. it truly is amazing how far she's come as a little person while maintaining all her cuteness that she's had since christmas day 2003. it's weird to think back on my own first memories and know that the house we are about to move into will be the one she remembers as her first. i remember my first house and it's such a good memory. not for any sort of romantic reason such as my parents still being together. more that it's one of my first. first memories are very special i think. you don't have very many and they are all over the map. i can count on one hand how many true memories i have from the age of 4 through 8 or 9. that's a lot of years and days and time with not a lot of recall. but one that i will always carry is the picture in my head of my first house.

you and your future brother or sister (god-willing), hannah, were very much in mind when your mommy and i chose this house for your mental scrapbook. i hope you like the purple and your puppy and your big back yard. i hope you remember how much love filled the walls of your first house as soon as we stepped in it as a family.

it makes me sad to think of all the blowhards, the teachers, and the preachers that will fill your mind up with all sorts of garbage about the world and what you should or shoudn't do to fit in, how you come to understand right from wrong, how you deal with the fact that you were "born crappy" and in need of some sort of enlightenment. don't let them bother you too much, though. your mom and dad have a pretty good grasp on things. we'll make fun of all the noisemakers around our dinner table and figure out ways to make them take themselves less seriously.

we're moving in less than three weeks!
but, wait!!! we haven't packed.


the worst part of moving is, naturally, the whole moving part. the entire process is just a labor (and this is coming from someone that hardly touched a box until it was ready to be lifted in our last move). the worst part may be the anticipation of putting things into boxes and the house being a wreck for a couple of weeks. ask anyone that knows a little about me and they will tell you i am not a big fan of messes. the anticipation of putting things in boxes combined with the thought of a two to three week mess may in fact be part of my headache today. i woke up and realized today was august 1st. our moving day is august 19. yikes!!! not one box is ready to go. i think i am even more anxious because my role in the move will be considerably larger this go-round. by move time last year, i was already in huntsville and sarah and marie did all the packing. this time, sarah might as well be in huntsville for as much as she has on her plate, and so i feel like it's my time to step up.

but step up how? i don't know how to do this. as many times as i have moved, i don't know if i've ever really packed. someone has always packed for me. that doesn't seem fair, but it's true. it's all about that first box i think. like conquering any fear, it's that first step that you have to take before you can move past it. getting hit by a baseball in the batter's box. the first rollercoaster with a loop. a first kiss. long division. eating tomatoes. it's all about that first step. you take it, you know you can do it. and so you do it. and so it's all about that first box. there are boxes behind me right now as i type. i could take one of the books off the desk and put it in a box.

but what would sarah say? that might be the wrong box. i might do it wrong. stack it wrong. that might be the one book that's supposed to go on top. or not in at all. maybe it's not our book. i could pack up something else. yeah, something else. like hannah's toys that are constantly making such a "mess" of the place. but we might not be packing that toy. or at least, not in this box. what do i do? i will wait. yeah, i will wait. for instruction. that will be good. for me. for now. it's only august 1st. we have three weeks. who needs to start now?

i think i'll go play ncaa.

if this really is heaven, why doesn't it smell more like dreamland?


i think i've found my muse. it's not a she. it's not a he. it's a rib. i think if i looked back across my blogography, i would find that if i've been inspired or motivated to put fingers to buttons by a common denominator, more times than not (common denominator-wise), it was meat from dreamland. disenchantment with my church or church in general would follow closely behind, but by splitting the remainder of the votes between those two candidates i would wager that the rib would and will continue to carry the popular vote. that may be interesting to only me, but i thought it worth mentioning.

my family and i are about to embark on a first. we are about to purchase our first home. not to say that we have been homeless, but the homes that we've inhabited thus far have been a church parsonage that was too big (and filled with old people stuff) for us and a double-barreled apartment approach that came to end (finally) last month with the final owed rent payment (and one of the last nagging memories) paid in huntsville. since the third of april, we have crammed ourselves into our "intimate" two-bedroom apartment and been happily close to each other. but the time to (be able to) stretch our wings and find another nest has arrived, and we will be moving. the house we are purchasing is a perfect example of a starter home. one that we know will not be our "dream" home, but one that allows us the room to expand our family if that is in the cards and one that will allow us to remember what it feels like to have separate corners of the home to retire to. it is cute. two stories. in the need of some repairs and a serious paint job, but one that i can't wait to move into. because it will be ours. not yours. and yours and yours and yours. not one that allows the congregation of a church to lay claim to. not one that flushes our monthly rent payment into an account that we have no claim on. but ours.

it will be fun and a long time coming. but well worth the wait since it feels like a decision that sarah and i made and not one that was made for us due to school or my job or feeling obligated to something or someone. hannah will have a new house. and her (my) puppy back. hardwood and tile floors and a street to ride a tricycle on. stairs she gets to climb to go to bed and stairs that she gets to come down for breakfast. we will have a dining room table. a yard to (unfortunately) attend to or pay someone to attend to. did i mention that i loved the idea of watching hannah go up and down the stairs?

i will have to enlist kiker (and andy and others) and a truck again, but he seems cool with it. but we will have a dining room table, so we can have him and sarah over for dinner to say thanks, and then kiker and i will sneak into the living room to play ncaa 07. we'll sit on our new couch (hopefully). and then i'll help sarah clean up (don't laugh, sarah) from the dinner and then we'll see hannah to bed. and then we'll come downstairs for no other reason than to have to go back up the stairs to our new bedroom and new bed (hopefully).

it will be fun and a long time coming. it will give us (more) reasons to smile and look across the house and share a knowing grin that "this is nice." and it will make it easier, as we drive back to our first house, to swallow sundays when the worship service starts with the choir director telling the congregation that their singing over the last few weeks would score them a "C-" in his book, and "he may be scaling that grade." great.

ok, so maybe there were two common denominators this day. can that even work?

love is like infinity
(from the world according to mister rogers)


the page reads: love is like infinity. you can't have more or less infinity, and you can't compare two things to see if they're "equally infinite." infinity just is, and that's the way i think love is too. romantic, and appropriate for the valentine's day page of last year's calendar.

i don't know if i buy that. i get what the author is saying. if you are trying to articulate something as big as true love, why not choose a word that defines something that has no beginning and no end. something that, in fact, has no equal. the part i don't buy is this particular quote doesn't allow for the idea of the evolution of love. the idea that at some point in a relationship, the whole infinity feeling goes away and choice takes over. sure, love will always play some, if not a huge, role in the relationship, but choice and commitment to the party in question becomes bigger.

for example, the first time i had a milkshake from chick-fil-a, i "loved" it. i bought four that week. i thought i would buy four every week. but i didn't. i have had four since. now, sure, eight milkshakes in one month from chick-fil-a is a lot, but it's not four a week, and i definitely don't "love" them like i thought i did. i may now choose to have one every once in a while now, showing my commitment with a hope that they stay on the menu, but my love for the milkshake is different now. the infinity part is gone. if i never had a milkshake from chick-fil-a again, my life would still go on.

the same case could be constructed for everything in my life i have ever loved. original recipe from kentucky fried chicken. chocolate ice cream. my first dog. my present dog. atari. sega genesis. playstation. playstation 2. playstation 3 (i already love you, even though we have never met.). soccer. basketball. softball. my mom. my dad. my brother. my family. my step-family. my church. my church family. sarah. hannah. jesus. in every case, i was overwhelmed by the love i had for each and every one of the things/persons. in every case, the infinity part has fallen away and my love evolved. with the exception of the last three items of my list, my life would still be just fine without all of the things in my life that i have "so loved".

i bring this up because i have not been able to shake a phone conversation (i was eavesdropping on) that sarah was having with one of her friends about a friend of theirs from high school that had left his wife and child for someone else. someone newer. fresher. girlfriend version 3.1. of course, to any rational outside observer, such a move seems foolish and shortsighted and just plain stupid. i have had one of my oldest and closest friends make a similar move, though, and knowing the person didn't help the situation make any more sense.

love, as everyone says, is a powerful thing. it makes people write things like, "love is like infinity." it makes you buy too many milkshakes and play too many videogames. but love does have an end. many ends i would argue, and many new beginnings. and until you are faced with a choice and choose to move along the same path however different or less filling/fun it may be, then i would continue to argue that you have not loved at all.

if this all rings a bit accusatory, please don't read it that way. i, myself, am unsure that i loved, by my own definition, until recently. it's good to know what that feels like, though. i promise you that. and it's good to know that i am past the whole "love is like infinity" part of my life.

mid-year in review


andy and i were duly inspired monday after, with the help of kiker, downing a healthy (in portion at least) plate of ribs, white bread in rib sauce and banana pudding with rib aftertaste. our thought? our thought...my thought was that i spent so much time and thought on my annual year-end music review that it might be fun to spend half the time and half the thought on the music that had been rocking my cd player in the first six months of 2006. in lieu of any other subject worth the time to blog on this week, we'll get to it.

as i combed through my not so healthy (in quantity at least) list of 12 cd's i had purchased thus far, my first reaction was, "gosh. this music year has sucked so far." and let me go ahead and throw this out. i don't have the exact number, but i seem to remember reading at the end of last year that there were over 13,000 cd's released in the year 2005. going with that number, we can probably assume that there have been around half that number hitting the shelves already in 2006. out of those 5000-plus, i have purchased twelve. so, my sample set being what it is, i am certainly not commenting on "the mid-year in review" with regards to the entire music universe, only my music universe.

getting to it, only three of my twelve purchases stick out to me as worth mentioning, and i have to believe, unless july-december proves as fruitless on my music tree as january-june, these three are the only ones out of the dirty dozen that have a chance of making the year-end top ten. in ascending order:

3. angels and airwaves - we don't have to whisper - if you spend only a little time on the internet, you have heard of this band. tom delonge, co-founder of one of my favorite bands of all time (blink-182), and his band made up of other guys from other bands released this album in may. tom went out of his way to make sure everyone knew that if jesus, himself, released an album in 2006, it would not match the awesomeness of WDHTW. i don't know if he succeeded in saving rock'n'roll. but after repeated listens, i have found an album that i can listen to from beginning to end and thoroughly enjoy every song. sure i like tom's voice. but the music is pretty good too. if there will be no more blink, this will do pretty fine.

2. saves the day - sound the alarm - the album contains two songs (one and four) that i already know will make my songs of the year list and it's a return to form from another one of my favorite bands. after making two almost pop albums, the pop is still there, but the speed is turned back up again. i like this album a lot and it is a lock for the year-end list.

1. pearl jam - self-titled - i could go on and on about how much i am into this band and eddie vedder, but the last two or three albums they've put out have been terribly inconsistent to me. you could see them stretching themselves, but at times they stretched to the point where they didn't sound like pearl jam anymore. it seems, on this album, they have fully realized that they could very well be my generation's go to "classic rock'n'roll" band. still "grungy", but incredibly technical and proficient due to the talent of each of the band members, not just eddie. something is going to have to come along and strike me as pretty damn good to knock pearl jam out of the top spot at the end of the year.

there you have it. we'll see how the dust settles again after all the christmas presents are opened and any last minute cd's get their fair spin.

looking forward to with high expectations:

park
blood brothers
brand new
many, many more

and the world cup ends with penalty kicks
(what now?)


blah.

i think that kind of sums up my immediate reaction to the championship match of world cup 2006. i was rooting for france, so, in short and of course, they lost. any committed viewer had been subject to ad naseum reminders that "this could be/would be the final game for zinedine zidane." the best player of the last 20 years? a generation? i don't know. i think that's up for debate, but he is certainly in the discussion. and the last three matches for france, he has been a joy to watch. but what happens as time is winding down and the game is headed towards the anti-climactic but ultra-dramatic penalty kick finale? he freakin' head-butts a guy in the chest and gets tossed!!! why? who knows, but unless the cameras didn't catch the italian defender groping his man region, there was no excuse. he hurt his team and left everyone (all billion of us) watching the match scratching our heads as to what the hell just happened.

and so the game goes to pk's. so many people hate penalty kicks ending a soccer match, and i certainly don't love it. "would you end a football game with a field goal kicking contest?" "would you end a world series game with a home run derby?" "would you end a basketball game with a free-throw shooting contest?" these rhetorical questions are idiotic to begin with, but you know what i hate more? watching world class soccer players walk around the field two hours into a game because they are too exausted to play soccer anymore. the match must end sometime. a winner must be determined. it's imperfect, but i do like the drama of penalty kicks. and as evidenced throughout the entire knockout round of this tournament, a tension filled penalty kick is no given, even for international class players. so the game goes to pk's and one guy misses. one guy from france. and italy wins. they didn't deserve to win. france played the more attractive game. the more aggressive game. more scoring chances. but sometimes, a lot of times, that doesn't matter. italy survived, and then they won. so congratulations, italy.

on a scale of 1-10, i would rate this world cup an 8. very enjoyable for the most part. tainted to some degree by overzealous officiating. but fun and interesting and full of good memories. even for a us soccer fan.

my player of the tournament? i'll give it to zidane. outside of the incredibly stupid headbutt, he was the most dangerous and influential player on the field the entire knockout round. and that's when the games really count. so long, and thanks for the memories.

most exciting team? tie: argentina & spain

most exciting players? fernando torres - spain, lionel messi - argentina, cristiano ronaldo - portugal, zinedine zidane - france, michael ballack - germany

best hair? fernando torres - spain

early favorite for 2010? spain...and the united states of course.

what now?

hannah and me (part twelve)
keeping up with the joneses


one thing that i have found annoying/tough/frustrating to deal with in the last few months of fatherhood is my inner competitor being annoyed or frustrated at the notion that some toddler that we are close to (and hannah is comparable in age to) through being friends with the toddler's parents is "doing something" or has reached some toddler milestone before hannah. in some cases, milestone is probably a stretch, but in every case it's hard for me not to want hannah to be the first or best at something.

"we took so and so to see cars today. he/she loved it."

"so and so pooped in the potty today."

"so and so already knows their days of the week."

"so and so is soooooo smart."

"etc., etc., so and so, etc."

i want to be happy for the parents and share in their excitement, but most of time, i feel myself biting my tongue because i feel put off that someone stole my idea or i just cleaned a crappy pull-up not an hour removed from hannah pooping in the potty leading me into a false sense of security that the potty-training phase of hannah's life is now over.

my insecurity over these types of things among other things will be neverending and ever evolving in hannah's life and my life as a father. i know this. the last thing i want to be is jealous. but i am always jealous. i know is hannah is brilliant and beautiful. why isn't that enough? why do i care that any of our friend's babies could be just as beautiful or brilliant. who knows. well, i kind of know...

admittedly, my life at times, in my eyes anyway, could be seen as a life that never lived up to it's potential. but now that i've reached this utopia, where i finally feel like i am in control of my life, the potential of being the the best dad ever is something that i think i can actually make happen. that doesn't mean i have to go all earl woods on her. i guess i'll just have to keep reminding myself that being the best dad doesn't have anything to do with what the "joneses" are doing with their kid. it has everything to do with, when the baby girl is 29 years old and reaching her own utopia, hannah being able to look back and know that i loved her unconditionally every step of the way.

especially when she exclaims, "shit!!!", in the proper context when she drops a toy or stubs her toe.

that's my girl.

how do you spell underachiever?
B-R-A-Z-I-L


pardon me for continuing my world cup themed posts. after the final this coming sunday, maybe i can bitch about something else. i always have a hard time hearing "experts" calling one team or another a stone cold lock favorite before a season or a tournament begins. exibit a: usc football 2005-06. exibit b: connecticut basketball 2005-06. exibit c: brazil futbol 2006. how much more, i wonder, do these "experts" really pay attention to their sport of choice than i do? i mean, how many folks knew what to expect from brazil? i knew the names and most of the club teams of all their starters, but not before world cup did i see them play together. the fact of the matter is most world cup squads are just like the us and convene a month or two before the biggest tournament on earth and the teams either gel or they don't. there were/are teams in the tournament that have just as much talent as brazil. see france or england or portugal or argentina or spain. why weren't they the overwhelming favorites? this world cup is just another example of the "nobody knows anything" hypothesis i threw out around ncaa tourney time.

"i can't spell brilliant, but i can see it, and that kid is gonna be a god." words spoken by my flawed fucker of a stepfather that i'll never forget because, one, it is silly, and two, it was about his son that was a star in pee-wee football but didn't get off the bench for his high school. i do appreciate the sentiment, though, as it relates to listening to "experts", reading espn.com, and listening to friends talk about what they "know" vs. seeing something with my own eyes. what did i see in the overwhelming favorites to win the world cup? roberto carlos with his rocket of a left foot and penchant for disappearting on defense. a problem, this is, considering he is a defensive back. a past his prime ronaldo who never fucking runs unless the ball is within five yards of him. a too old cafu. a drama queen of a central defender in lucio. a clumsy striker named adriano who is, like roberto carlos, way too left-footed. i will give props to kaka. one of the only guys from the incredible "impossible is nothing" adidas commercials that showed up during world cup. and that brings us to ronaldinho. the two time reigning world soccer player of the year. outside of some fancy dribbling, what did he bring to the table and team? zero. sqadush. nada. shit. fun to watch? sure, if fun to watch means brazil is no more likely to score because of him than me. a team of stars. all proven on their club teams. also proved at this world cup as a team never a real threat to win it all.

i knew this after i saw their first match. i also knew that argentina was going to win it all. so, what do i know?

i know i'll root for germany tomorrow and more brilliance from zidane and cristiano ronaldo and figo and thierry henry wednesday and enjoy the heck out of the championship game sunday.

you can believe what you hear. what you read. what your friends say. but until i see the odds on favorite with my own eyes, you'll have to pardon me if you catch me rolling my eyes.

more unsolicited sideline reporting
(eunuchs, unite!!!)

only nine more world cup matches to go. kind of sad, really. it's been such a grand two weeks, and the best match-ups are still to come. i have to believe that sarah and hannah are growing tired of soccer but come this time two weeks from now, serious soccer (not mls) will be put back into semi-hibernation (unless the next house we move into offers fox soccer channel...oh yeah!!!) for four years. my four year goal? to find a way to cheer on the us in person and travel with them to south africa. how awesome would that be? we'll see if it happens...

last week was the first time in eight years i had not helped out in some way with vacation bible school at humc. i didn't miss it, necessarily, but i did miss the kids. turning recreation into vacation "battle" school with dodgeball, freeze-tag, red light-green light, duck-duck-goose...those were good and fun times. what was most fun was seeing most of the kids having a blast and running around like crazy people, like kids should be during the summer. i was sad, but not surprised, when i heard that balls were taken out of the equation this year. there were excuses made. dhr was thrown under the bus. "some kids don't like the balls." "my son/daughther hated recreation." yes, i am sure your child was pining for more "reflection" time and painting t-shirts. i am certain the same child(ren) that didn't have enough "balls" to play with balls was immeasurably happy wearing home a wet pair of underwear from a busted water balloon. but what do i know?

i know this. i know children need balls. or "balls". even at vacation bible school. what's worse is having some adult or group of adults telling them that they don't need balls. or "balls". that they are better off without them. whoever executed this separation of church and balls should be ashamed. what's next? separation of church and halo? church and family guy? church and week-long mission/choir opportunites? separation of church and halloween? church and beach retreats just for the hell of it (for the fellowship of it all)? church and making eye contact with people you don't agree with? oh wait...

god bless all the people who volunteered or were drafted into vbs service. i hope to rejoin your number next year. with a better attitude and outlook on a church that once made and can still make a difference.

and god bless being able to take a ball in the face and come back for more. this should be the theme of every vacation bible school from now on.

it's soccer time.

dateline: nuremburg
(a kneejerk reaction caused by intense disappointment)


consider this a postcard of sorts:

to landon donovan (posterboy for united states soccer): you may be more comfortable in mls. your personal life may be great, but the face of us soccer, you should not be. you could not have been any more ineffective in these three games. you did not set up one decent scoring opportunity in any of the three games. half the time you looked scared. you are now the captain of this team moving forward to 2010. at the moment, i could not be any more underwhelmed or disconcerted at this thought. worthless.

to demarcus beasley: you cannot utilize your speed unless you run hard. i can count on one hand the number of times i felt like you were giving your all. you were lucky to serve one good ball to clint dempsey in the ghana match, but otherwise, you were also a waste of talent and space.

to kasey keller: how about making a fucking save!!! only once in three matches did you make a save worth noting. anything else that found it's way into your hands would have fallen the same into the hands of an average high school goalkeeper. world class goalkeeper??? my ass. make a fucking save!!!

to claudio reyna (captain america): captain america, huh? not anymore. enjoy retirement and enjoy hitting the post in your retirement community rec. games. you are quite accomplished at this. thank you for giving ghana their first goal and the game. auf wiedersehen.

to bruce arena: you pointed us in the right direction. you really did. good job in 2002 and thank you for bringing us soccer to this point. i fear, though, that your abilities have reached their potential. you were outcoached in all three matches, make no mistake, and you have no idea how to create an attack other than serve it in to brian mcbride and hope something good happens. good luck at your next job. and thanks for the good times.

to clint dempsey, brian mcbride, eddie johnson and oguchi onyewu: thank you for playing like this was the most important tournament of your life. you all showed up and played hard. i wish for better for you all.

to the rest of the team: you are nondescript in my memory right now. not good enough or bad enough to make a mark. some of you played, some of you did not, but i feel lukewarm toward you all and spit you out of my mouth.

to us soccer: this is what it feels like to take two steps back. all is not lost. us soccer is here to stay. it just hasn't "arrived" yet. maybe soon. i hope so.

see you in south africa.

p.s. - to anyone that wants to blame the ref for the penalty kick and the winning goal...stop. please blame carlos bocanegra and his boneheaded header back into the penalty box.

"he has a horrible attitude."


a funny story from saturday at the store. a lady comes in looking for some tubing for her aquarium. from my perch in the office, i watch her open a box (labeled 25 ft.), take the tube out and ask one of the other employees to help her stretch it out to make sure it's 25 ft. it is, but she deems it to short to reach from her aquarium to the outside of her house. she mangles the tube and the box trying to force the tube back in. she takes the ripped up box back to the shelf, sits it down, and proceeds to take the 50 ft. box off the shelf. she brings it back up front, pops the box open, and is about to pull 50 ft. of tubing out and ruin her second box of product in less than five minutes. i feel compelled to intervene.

"ma'am, can i help you?"
"i just need to see how long this is."
"it's 50 ft. long."
"i need to make sure."
"i promise, ma'am. you can take my word for it. it's 50 ft. there's no need to open another box."
"i can open the box if i want to."
"well, i suppose that's true, but if you are really just verifying the length, i can do that for you without opening the box. if you need a visual aid, we can walk it out along the floor."
"there's no need to get smart with me."
"ma'am, with all due respect, i am not getting smart. i am just trying to help you without opening the product up and handling it to the point that we will have to return it if you aren't satisfied."
"whatever. is heather here?"
"she is."
"where is she? she'll help me. we'll open every box in this store if i want to."
"i am sorry, ma'am. not today."

i grab heather from the office and ask her to finish helping the customer. i also give her implicit instruction to not open any more boxes for the lady. she was watching my conversation with the lady from the office and is tickled already by my attempt at diplomacy. the lady goes on to tell heather that i have a horrible attitude.

really? maybe i do. the customer is not always right. and sure, neither am i. it's struck me as incredibly odd, though, at the amount of customers that have come into the store in my two months at pet supplies plus with an attitude that can be described, in a sweet way, as entitled.

i get that people can have a bad day and bring that day in the store with them, but i also get that it's not our fault, nor our responsibility to take getting cussed at. to take having people shake their heads and snap at us. to take having soft dog toys thrown in our direction. to take that people are pissed that we aren't heath and won't give them free shit. i don't get free shit. why would i give you free shit?

as a christian, i understand that i should show patience even when it's not being shown to me. as a manager responsible for other employees, though, if i draw a line in the sand and you cross it, well, there's a good chance you are not going to get your way.

oh well.

let's beat the crap out of italy!!!
(let's go,...italy???)


what a tough transition! to root against a team, maybe even a country (considering all the primal screams and anti-italian sentiment i hurled at the television), for an hour and a half as hard as i did yesterday only to turn around and now root just as hard for them come thursday. but such is the crazy soap opera that the united states' trip through group e in world cup 2006 has now become. i am not sure i've ever watched as frustrating a soccer match as the us-italy tilt turned into. an inspired us team! one tremendous left hook to the chin and visions of the czech match when the italians scored first!! a ridiculous italian defender giving the us a goal!!! three red cards, all told!!!! more inspired us play!!!!! all boiling down to what? we have to beat the ghana team straight up and then hope that the italians can help the cause by beating the czech's. there are other scenarios that would keep the us team playing past thursday, but they all involve beating ghana by four or five goals. considering the red, white and blue have yet to score a goal for themselves in two games, the odds for these scenarios seem pretty unfavorable for anyone rooting for brian mcbride and his beautifully bloodied face.

and so it goes. up and downs. downs and ups. sarah mentioned today how much more enjoyable the rest of the tournament has to be when not involving the us team. and she's right. i can pull for a team in each game without completely losing my mind if my rooting interest doesn't perform. with the us team, though, things are different. i am invested. same goes for my crappy-ass braves (which is why i've stopped watching them for the time being). same goes for alabama football and basketball, and baseball to a lesser degree. same goes for the michael vick's in atlanta.

such a silly thing sports in my life are. but also such a necessary thing. it calls to arms passions inside of me that stir the very juice of my being. sports can remind me why i love my daughter, my wife. it can remind me why i currently loathe the idea of church at times. it reminds me of what is important and what is not when casual observers might see me and tell me that the straw (my sports) that stirs my drink is, in and of itself, trivial. it may be. it may not. i take comfort knowing that, by far, i am not the only one that suffers from the sickness that is sports. a sickness that, at times, will make me long for an espn mobile phone more than a bigger house for my family.

i can't wait 'til thursday morning or whatever time thursday when i get to watch the tape of the game. i will sit on the edge of the couch. pace around the living room. hoping for us goals. for italian goals. for fewer czech goals and fewer still ghana goals. i can't wait. for an hour and a half, i will hardly be able to breathe.

here's to the us giving me one more day this world cup to look forward to with passion. here's to sports.

and here's to the bloodied mess that is brian mcbride. you are a beast.

usa? usa? usa?
(a lesson in lowering my expectations)


two months ago the world cup draw was announced. the top 16 seeds were unveiled and the us was snubbed. no worries. the us was then placed in a group of 4 more than quality teams, some calling it the toughest in the tournament. no worries. this was the best us team we had ever assembled. more depth. more talent. more speed. more experience. if four years ago was a surprise, 2006 would be a validation. leaving the czech's or italy home for the second round would prove the us was for real and worthy of their mythical #5 world ranking. for two months i listened to every soundbite, read every article, and lapped up every drop of hype about this, our best team. at 11:05 yesterday, five freakin' minutes into the match, all of my optimism was taken away. it took all of five minutes for the us to look small, slow, unorganized, and overmatched against a team very worthy or their #2 world ranking. and today is the day after.

i've been a victim of hype before. hype from others. hype from myself. raising my expectations to unrealistic levels only to take a figurative punch to the gut when the hype proves false. i've done it with alabama football, with music, movies, and time and time again with us soccer. i am so sick of always being "on the cusp". after yesterday, we have been knocked off the cusp.

and so i sit and try to manage new expectations, expectations that are far lower than this time yesterday. i have lowered my expectations in some facets of my life and it has proved to be healthy at times. when expecting the worse from family, just a little better than worse seems pretty good. when expecting a horrible sermon, fair to middling actually raises my spirits some. when expecting crappy taco bell, a relatively fresh chalupa is a breath of fresh air. and so i ask myself, should i approach everything with such a negative tone?

that seems reasonable, but it also seems very pedestrian. because there is nothing like hype proved real (see a healthy marriage, fatherhood, lebron james, etc). there is no drug that provides a lengthier high than high expectations realized. and so, i will work to keep my hopes up. for us soccer. for good music. for alabama football. maybe even for church. and i will try and work to keep the disappointment from affecting my mood and reactions and thoughts for very long.

i'll keep you, dear reader, dear hannah, updated as to how this is coming.

in the meantime...bring on fucking italy.

it's not the quality, it's the loud
(the song of my heart)


with all due respect, and i mean this with every ounce of sincerity and love i have in me, please stop. halting the congregation four verses into the five and calling out their lack of "passion" hasn't worked in the past. it did not work today. it will not work in the future. what's worse is the reminder during the pause of the reason we are gathered together. the lesson on what jesus' sacrifice "should" mean. should it mean we, as a group of mostly 50 and over's bring the house down with our voices? should it mean that the love we feel for god and each other and the community we share be measured in decibal level? or should it mean that even if we are singing to ourselves because we are sick or don't like our own voice or would rather hear the choir or our neighbor sing the hymn or because we don't want to sing out or sing at all for reasons outside of your control, that god hears the song in our heart anyway? that god hears the beautiful voice in our heads that wishes we sounded like virginia carlisle or adam wright? how did i react? like a stubborn child, and i put my hymnal down. how did others react? like scolded children that were trying to impress their disappointed father. both reactive and both only temporary fixes. band-aids on top of wounds that are already infected.

and here is the rub. you are doing everything you can, and i admire you for that. you are excited. you know why. and so you encourage others in your own way because you have seen the light and you want others to as well. i wish you luck. i really do. i wish i had the answers to all the questions in my head about my church.

but i only have opinions. my opinions that could be just as wrong. who knows. maybe they are. maybe they aren't. i doubt i will be asked. and that is ok.

i do know this. apathy cannot be stirred with a switch. only with love and time. and sometimes, even with those, it will not be stirred. and that, also, is ok.

hannah and me (part eleven)
a sign of things to come?


it wasn't long ago that the suggestion of a day home from school would bring pure joy. "hannah, do you want to stay home with daddy tomorrow?" "yeeeeaaahhh!!!!" music to a daddy's ears. even if i knew that part of the day would be frustrating because, you see, hannah is still learning the english language and we do not always find ourselves on the same page, the daddy-daughter day would be one that both parties would look forward to. we would get up early and watch some playhouse disney. maybe little einsteins. and then scan around for dora or diego or elmo and in betwixt we would play or color or eat some candy for breakfast. we would then go meet mommy for lunch. or friends. or we would just go pick up some chicken nuggets from mcdonald's and share them. and then the baby girl would take a nap and i would relax and recharge. or spend some time on the computer. or work out. and then the baby girl would wake up and it would be time to play again. to go swing or to go blow bubbles. or maybe go to krispy kreme and have a doughnut. and then we would wait for mommy to get home and we would tell her all about it. and daddy would be tired. but content. and happy.

but not this morning.

this morning, when presented with two options (option A: day home with daddy...option B: go see kaykay), the baby girl chose B. it took me aback a little bit, and it made a daddy very sad. there isn't a person on this earth with a heart for all children, including my child, than kay lovvorn (or kaykay if you are down). but, still, over a day home with daddy? am i already not cool? am i already outdated? irrelevant? out of touch with the baby girl landscape? has time already passed me by? i kid with people that comment on how big hannah is that she already acts like a teenager, but really she's only 2 and a half.

and thus, i am asked to learn a very important lesson in the education of being a parent. i will not always be her first choice. my guess is there will be days that i end up being close to last. that makes a daddy very, very sad, and on a day when the world feels very heavy, it's kind of hard to swallow.

i know she still loves her daddy. i could tell, even this morning, when i dropped her off and she backed into my legs when the number of kids in kaykay's class overwhelmed her a little bit. it was easy, then, to remember that, even on days that i am not her first choice, i've got to have her back. that i've got to make sure she knows that daddy still very much loves her.

and i will.

"memorial day is monday, lest we forget"
(or "if you think it's hot outside, try hell")


with all due respect to those that have given their lives for their respective country, that is the crappiest waste of church marquee space that i have seen in a while. how would we forget? i mean, seriously? most of us are off work. or out of school. or planning on a bbq and will be reminded by someone at the bbq that the reason the entire family is together is because it is memorial day. but some church on highway 11 that we passed on the way to our family lunch made sure to remind all passers-by that tomorrow is memorial day, for fear that we forget. great.

maybe i am just upsest that instead of eating ribs or hotdogs or cheeseburgers with family tomorrow, i will be working 14-plus hours. or maybe i am just upset that the church marquee fad of putting up something "clever" or some sort of wisdom imparted by the church's pastor has not passed yet. in the same way that i don't understand where the style of prayer that i mentioned in my previous post came from, non-practical use of the church marquee, also, is beyond me.

let me see. "how could we best use our outdated, plastic letter using marquee/electronic marquee?" "we could post service times?" "check." "we could post sunday school times?" "check." "we could post the names of our pastors?" "umm, useless, but check." "what else?" "we could post something about a ministry of our church that will directly benefit the community that passes us five times a week on their way back and forth to work." "no way, dude. i've got a better idea. why don't i put up some silly cliche'd quote, or a lyric from a song, or something threatening hell and damnation. i'll do that every week. people will look forward to and wonder, each and every monday morning, 'what indispensible nugget will they put up?' and we will be known as 'the church with the clever sign.'" "do you think that will entice people to visit our church?" "who cares. this is brilliant. if we put up something that's really offensive, maybe we'll make the evening news!"

not every church is guilty of ruining the idea behind having a marquee, but too many are. please, joe senior pastor, just ask yourself this one question before you make a joke of your church. does your marquee say something about your church, or does it say something about you? if it's the latter, maybe you should let someone else do it for while. cool?

cool.

what's in a day?
(or two weeks)


let's see. since david blaine wowed us with his "heroics", i feel like i've stayed fairly busy. maybe not, though. since the last post, i've been a "witness" to lebron almost upsetting the pistons, watched the braves play like a real baseball team again and scratch their way back to .500, gone to a wedding with a sick baby flower girl, contracted the sick baby flower girl's illness (and sit here today, sick as a dog), watched the usa lose a warm-up soccer match to moracco (wtf), and worked a lot. throw in there some family time, catching up with an old friend, and dreamland later today and that just about catches us up.

yes, dreamland. so, sick or not, life could be worse.

i do wish that i had the answer to this question of mine, a question that reared it's head to me again over these past two weeks. where did the style of prayer that uses the word "god" every other breath stem from? you've heard this type of prayer.

"dear god, thank you, god, for this day, god, and everything it has brought, god. father god, thank you, god, for family, god, for penguins, god, and teddy ruxpin. father god, thank you for this meal, god, and the hands, god, that prepared this meal. god, you are so good, god, and tomorrow, god, i pray, if it is your will, god, that i break the world record, god, for the number of times, god, i drop your name in a prayer. amen. god. amen."

please don't get me wrong. prayer is intensely personal, and this style is, no doubt, some sort of learned habit. but why? where did it come from? some of the more powerful moments of prayer come in the form of silence, and filling up the pauses with the word "god" as a way of transitioning from one thought to another just distracts me. i start counting "god"'s. i lose all focus on the prayer and it drives me crazy.

on several different occasions, i prepared lessons on prayer style for the students at huffman but ditched them for fear of "causing a brother to stumble". for a student (hell...for anyone), any prayer is a good prayer, and even i do not believe there's a right way to pray. but i did want to ask the question, where did folks in the group or in the congregation pick that up? maybe i'll never know. i know for sure that, in the long run, it doesn't really matter, but still.

dear god. you are listening to me even when i do not want you to. i never have to address you to get your attention, and because of that, every moment of my day is a prayer. for that, i am thankful. for that, i am lucky that you are intentionally vested in me even when i am not returning the favor. for that, i hope that most of my day makes you proud. even when i am picking on other's personal conversations with you. thanks.

amen.

finding aquaman will be a lot easier if you can breathe under water
(don't hold your breath)


monday night when i got home from work, i watched the "highlights" from the david blaine special, drowned alive. david blaine, as everyone knows, is the usa renowned illusionist that can count cards with the best of them, "levitate", and pull his teeth out of your dog's butt and throw them into your mouth. incredible stuff. for a week leading up to his live special on monday night, he floated in a big, human-size fish bowl in the same way the poor, pitiful beta fish float around a plastic cup at work waiting for someone to rescue them from their miserable existence.

says one beta: "what are you doing?"
two beta: "i am sitting in this fucking cup. there is no room to swim. my skin is burning."
one beta: "your skin is burning? why?"
two beta: "my own pee is burning it. the humans call it 'ammonia burn', but the long and short of it is my own pee is burning my skin."
one beta: "wow. that sucks."
two beta: "such is the life of a beta. just wait. one more day, you'll feel it too."
one beta: "that sucks."

so, david blaine floats around like a beta fish in a human-size fish bowl, his skin too shriveled to realize that he, too, is suffering from "ammonia burn". he wants to hold his breath for nine minutes. to break a record. what? you didn't know before monday what the world record for holding your breath was? there's a reason for that. about the seven minute mark, you see his body start revolting against his mind. he shakes, shimmies, pees on himself one last time, and then he his rescued. "rescued". which is kind of funny anyway, isn't it? why didn't he just levitate his ass out of the fish bowl? hmm. maybe it is just an illusion. so, anyway, he's rescued and he cries and tells everyone he loves them and pickpockets a homeless man on his way to the hospital, leaving the cruel taste of irony in the homeless man's mouth (along with your dog's teeth) for him to chew on that night.

all of this shit goes down, and i think to myself. this guy is stupid. if he needed to know he wasn't a fish, i could have written him a note. however many million people watched this are stupid. they are the same people that slow traffic down on the northbound side of the interstate when the wreck's on the southbound side. abc is stupid. if they were going to pour this much money and hype into something, why didn't they just build someone else a house?

maybe david blaine was just pushing the envelope of human willpower for all of us. like climbing the highest mountain. or circling the globe in a sailboat. or maybe he's just more rich and more famous for it. but that's ok. we'll know for sure when he's on his next episode of cribs or true hollywood story. we'll watch that shit too.