Let it ice, let it ice, let it ice!

It's still cold and drizzly here, and while the kids did have school today, the rain has kicked up in earnest, and it is freezing to the ground on contact. This does not bode well; we could very well lose power sometime tonight. However, we're ready.

First, light. We have all our candles out on the dining room table, in easy reach. We located the lighter, so we're ready to light them. I also found a lantern outside that could be used as well. The batteries have been located for all the flashlights.

Second, warmth. We have a gas-powered fireplace that works without electricity, so we can keep the house warm. If the power goes out, we'll get everyone into the living room, bundle up, crank on the fireplace, and be nice and toasty for the night.

Third, food. This shouldn't be a hassle, since we have never lost for an extended time, but Morgan and I did just do those yummy foil dinners, which we could easily recreate for everyone, so we won't starve.

Actually, last time we had an ice storm, we had the time of our lives. We had lost power, but we were back online within 12 hours, so it was all good. In fact, I had just called my team lead to tell her that I could not be on-call that day due to no power when the lights came back on. D'oh! However, our friends did not have power or a fireplace, and their little ones were getting very cold. We practically insisted that they come stay with us. Now keep in mind, our house would not be called "spacious" any time soon, but we managed to make room for our five, and their eight, and not climb all over each other. They brought all their food, which they were afraid would spoil, and we ate well and had lots of fun together. In fact, we likely would not have bonded with them so much had we not invited them in our homes. These are the same people that now have us come out every Thanksgiving, so our moment of charity has paid HUGE dividends.

So, whatever happens, bring it on! Just ... let me post this first. ;)

A Sabbath Without Church

It's been cold and miserable around here all weekend, but we still did not expect the call we got at 10:00 Saturday night. Our friend Erik called to inform us that, due to the roads getting slippery with ice, there would be no church services on Sunday. Shortly thereafter, I got three more calls, from our home teacher, my Elders' Quorum president, and the bishop, all saying the same thing, so we knew it had to be true. We also found out that the stake choir's rendition of Handel's "The Messiah", the highlight of the season, was also canceled.

We initially thought this quite the over-reaction. After all, I had been out all afternoon, going to the mall with Morgan, taking Joshua to his cousin's birthday party, going to the store for groceries. Then we noticed the weather forecast calling for freezing drizzle, and realized that the roads would get slick very quickly. We also have people at church who attend from much further away then us, who would have to brave icy roads for much longer, people whose sense of duty would not allow them to miss church unless it were canceled. People like me, except from longer distances.

So, we stayed in. It was good to sleep as long as we wanted for the first time in what felt like ages, not waking up until 10:00. I read my e-mails, and then puttered about the morning studying a lesson that I would have had to teach had there been church, that I will have to teach next week. Later, I decided to make something special for us, and made one loaf's worth of French bread dough, which I then split into 16 little rolls. Once they rose, I stamped them with a heart-shaped cookie cutter, then baked them. I am resolving to get our own digital camera soon, because they were cute. They also went nicely with turkey, peanut butter, orange blossom honey, and cinnamon butter.

The afternoon was largely wasted doing something I had not done in almost two years: watching pro football. It was good, but I wish I hadn't. I found it was really hard to fill that time that I would normally spend at church, doing something Sabbath-friendly. So, rather than sit around and watch the idiot box any longer, I went upstairs and threw myself into the kitchen. I started our spaghetti sauce, spent another hour studying my lesson again, then baked some snickerdoodles before finishing dinner. Yeah, my family enjoys my boredom even if my waistline doesn't.

Now we're watching Bewitched on TV and lounging about, and it doesn't feel like Sunday. It just feels like another Saturday. This is not a good thing.

No more dialing China

Last Saturday, while in my excitement to remove my dirty clothes from the campout and get into something warm, I did something phenomenally stupid, even for me. I left my cell phone in my jeans pocket. I then proceeded to throw all my clothes in the wash. Yup, by the time I realized what had happened, I had a very clean, but utterly useless, cell phone.

Of course, this could not have come at a worse time. I'm dead broke, so buying a cell phone would be impossible. And I really need to keep a phone on me all the time, for work.Melissa's got a good cell phone, but she needs hers as well. Fortunately, after calling around the family for soemone with a spare cell phone, I found one that could be programmed for Cricket. Nothing exciting, but I don't need exciting, I just need functional.

So, here it is, the new thing:

And look Ma, it's a flip phone. This is good, as I'm fond of stuffing my phone into my pockets and ignoring the beeps and boops emitting from my old Motorola non-flip phone. I would then pull it out and find a long line of gobbledygook thereon. I'd stare at it and wonder, "How the heck did I manage to type in a P?!? This phone isn't in txt mode!"

Well, here's to clearing out your pockets before doing the wash, and to new technology.

And now, enjoy some Horrors. This connects, really. :)

Loose Shorts PWN All

So, I got back in one piece from the campout. Actually, it was better than that. In fact, it might have been the best campout I've experienced.

So, everything got rolling with a couple of calls from Morgan's Scout leader, asking if I would be so kind as to pick up a couple of other boys who were supposed to go with us. I figured it would be fine, since I was taking the Explorer, so I agreed. One is Morgan's best friend at church, so that would have worked out well. However, I got a call that Morgan's friend couldn't make it, because he was sick, but apparently not too sick to ditch the school bus and go skate with his friends. Oh well.

As soon as Morgan got home from school himself, we set about gathering the things we would need, and throwing it all in the car. We planned on preparing our foil dinners at the campsite, so I grabbed heavy-duty foil and the following items:
2 chicken breasts
4 potatoes
3 carrots
2 onions
Old Bay seasoning (a recent discovery)
lowfat Italian dressing
spicy brown mustard
butter
2 bananas
cinnamon
brown sugar

The drive was relatively uneventful, although we did have to wait a bit long for our other boy to meet us. Morgan immediately slapped on his MP3 player, which left me free to enjoy the sneaky menace of A Place To Bury Strangers. We arrived at the campsite at 6:00, the last ones to appear, and the last ones to set up our tent and get our dinner going. Ugh. I hate making people wait.

As soon as we got the tent up, we started chopping. We sliced the potatoes, and laid one out in a single layer on a big sheet of foil. Then we chopped up the chicken breast, and arranged it atop the potato. Next, we applied liberal amounts of Old Bay, and Morgan reached for the Old Bay while I grabbed the salad dressing and mustard. Then we chopped up the carrots (2 for me), and the onions (all but a quarter of an onion for me). What? I like veggies! Finally, we laid the remaining potato on top of our heaping piles of food, and sealed the foil into a tight pocket.

After about 40 minutes on the hot coals (and one flip to make sure everything cooked through), we opened our packets to enjoy what was within. Yum! They turned out so good. Our bishop had come to the camp for the sole purpose of judging the foil dinners. While he declared ours "tantalizing", he declared the father and son who wrapped up Wal-Mart chimichangas the winner. Bah!

After everyone had enjoyed their feasts, we had a nice spiritual message from the bishop, and one of his counselors. The boys then retreated to their "man-cave", a natural shelter they selected for their campsite. That was fine by me, as even at my reduced poundage, Morgan and I don't fit real well in our small tent. After an enjoyable time chatting with the other adults, we called it a night and headed off to try to stay warm. Truth be told, I didn't get too cold, even when it started to rain. I had remembered to bring an extra sleeping bag, which went under the bag in which I slept. That soaked up all the rain that leaked into the tent, keeping me dry, except for the times I had to get up to go to the bathroom. (note to self: drink less water during campouts.)

By morning, the rain had slowed down, but had not entirely stopped. After a warm breakfast of blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, we got busy with the main activities of the day. There were two activities scheduled: an orienteering course, and an obstacle course with ropes. Morgan and I volunteered to do the orienteering course first, and were thrown for a loop when directed to a canoe. We had to cross a small section of lake to start the course! Feeling up to the challenge, we decided to go on, paddling across the lake with no problem. It took us an hour on the other bank to try to find the markers, with only a compass and a set of directions to guide us. We had to backtrack a couple of times because we struggled to find markers the first time. We found five of six, but the last marker completely escaped us. After trying again and again, we gave up, and tried to head back to the other bank. That didn't work out so well, as the wind and current had gained strength during the time we were there. Despite our best efforts, we ended up on the north bank, a good quarter mile from our camp. We had managed to drag the canoe halfway there when some of the Scout leaders, who had seen our struggles, came and bailed us out. We got back to camp tired, wet and cold, but still feeling pretty good.

After a brief lunch (cold sandwiches, chips, and cookies), we got to see the obstacle course for the first time. There was a rope for shimmying between two trees, which led to a two-wire bridge, which then led to a monkey bridge, ending with a rope swing. There wasn't a thing there I would have attempted last year, but with some food in me, I felt ready for it. We were paired as fathers and sons, and our goal was to:
1) Sprint to a canoe
2) Carry the canoe overhead 50 ft, around a tree, and back to its starting point
3) High-five the shimmying rope, which didn't work out as it was too loose to climb
4) Cross the two-wire bridge without touching ground
5) The boy crosses the monkey bridge and swings off the rope swing to the ground
in the fastest time possible.

Once again, we went first. We made it to the canoe in good time, but just as we got the canoe overhead, disaster struck. My lovely American Eagle belt lost its buckle, and my jeans, which were too big before getting bogged down with rain, slipped to my hips. I reached down and grabbed my pants, and tried to keep them up as well as possible, while everyone else (except Morgan) howled with laughter. Good thing I had my thermals on! Through the rest of the race, I had to keep tugging my jeans up, and yet we finished. Since we were first to go, we had no idea how good our time was. It turned out good enough to win the race. w00t!

So everyone then got to have fun on the obstacle course. I walked up the monkey bridge, and then enjoyed the rope swing, until I had to dismount. I almost ended up upside-down before the other adults helped me off. Then we started to pack up, and that's when the rain hit with full force. Ugh. By the time we got the camp torn down, everyone was soaked and miserable.

We left after everything had been loaded in the trucks. Morgan and Todd (our other passenger) fell asleep again, leaving me free to enjoy some Ceremony on the ride home. (At some point, I will stop obsessively playing Ceremony, but not soon. Heh.) We made it home just before sunset, in time to shower and pass out. I wish.

Some randon junk to finish

Listening to: Wire - Send

So I have made it to the end of NaBloPoMo. Whew! I can't wait to get back to the random postings of before, haha. I know there are things I can talk about here that I haven't, but I'll do that again, later. I need to get back to posting when I feel like it, you know?

Tonight, I will be spending the time at an overnight campout with my oldest. I'm really looking forward to it, it should be good. My only hope is that the activities planned actually come off, because they do sound like fun. Unfortunately, Morgan's Scout leaders of late have been kinda slacking on the details when planning, so stuff has been getting missed a lot recently.

I'm relieved that I have the campout this weekend, otherwise I would be working this evening at midnight. Ugh. I get a one-week reprieve.

Well, over and out. It's been fun.

Too Much Too Young

We found out recently that there's a young woman in our oldest son's school that's pregnant. If he were in high school, that wouldn't be so off-putting. He's not, though; he's in 8th grade. He said that the young woman is 15, but still, yikes!!!

I greatly worry about the effect her choice will have, not only on her life, but on that of her baby as well. Our son informed us that where she had been fairly popular, that she has been well ostracized. Now, I've asked him to not shun her, but he's been told since he could wrap his head around the concept, to save himself for marriage. I mean, he gets upset when people swear around him. (Yes, just like dear ol' dad.) He's never had to deal with anyone who's done something like that before. I'm curious to see how this works out.

I was chatting with someone else about a similar issue (Britney may be pregnant again?!? EGAD!), and this song popped in my head. It fits here as well.



The lyrics just finish it off:

You've done too much,
Much too young
Now you're married with a kid
When you could be having fun with me

Oh no, no gimme no more pickni

You've done too much,
Much too young
Now you're married with a son
When you should be having fun with me

We don't want, we don't want
We don't want no more pickni

Ain't he cute?
No he ain't
He's just another burden
On the welfare state

You've done too much,
Much too young
Now you're married with a kid
When you could be having fun with me

No gimme, no gimme,
No gimme no more pickni

Call me immature
Call me a poser
I'd love to spread manure in your bed of roses
Don't want to be rich
Don't want to be famous
But I'd really hate to have the same name as you
(You silly moo)

You've done too much,
Much too young
Now you're married with a kid
When you could be having fun with me

Gi we de birth control, we no want no pickni

You've done too much,
Much too young
Now you're chained to the cooker
Making currant buns for tea

Oh no, no gimme no more pickni

Ain't you heard of the starving millions
Ain't you heard of contraception
Do you really a program of sterilization
Take control of the population boom
It's in your living room
Keep a generation gap
Try wearing a cap!

Can you hear me now?

OK, here's a question for those people with teenagers: When did you capitulate and give your teenager a cell phone? What kind of service plan did you sign them up for?

I think I must be terribly old-fashioned. We really had no intention of giving our oldest son a cell phone until we felt that he really needed one. Well, enough nights waiting for him to call us from football games convinced us that he might need one, just for emergencies and such. He did some research, and decided on a Virgin Mobile pay-as-you-go phone. I was cool with that, as it offers decent price for a pre-paid cell phone plan. That phone turned out to be very handy, as we ended up using it a couple of times while on vacation, as our Cricket cell phones had no service.

The reason we decided on the pay-as-you-go phone was to encourage him to be judicious with his minutes, and to only use the phone for emergencies. The deal was that he had to earn his own minutes. That lasted about a week. Since he has had the phone, his friends have been txt'ing him left, right, and center. Sure enough, he was out of minutes while we were on vacation, forcing us to buy him a card to recharge his minutes.

Tonight, we got a call from him, while he was supposed to be out with his grandma helping unload furniture. He had been talking to her, and had managed to convince her to add him to her T-Mobile plan, and could we please let him get a phone?

Now, I have nothing against T-Mobile. We had T-Mobile for years; they're very reliable, and we never had screwy issues with our bill, like my in-laws had with Cingular. The thing is, if we wanted him to have a phone with unlimited minutes, we could afford to add another phone to our Cricket service, dust off the old Kyocera Phantom that sits in my sock drawer, and hand him a phone with unlimited minutes and txt, easily. That was not, however, the point. He hasn't yet shown any real responsibility with his phone, has not earned any minutes, and now wants to go buy another phone so recently after buying one.

Don't even get me started on the lame line that everyone else has one. He's tried that one before, and it failed spectacularly. Frankly, I don't care if every single other person at his school has a cell phone that Mommy and Daddy pay for happily (and I know that's not true), we're trying to teach him something that he hasn't learned yet, or at least hasn't shown any prowess yet.

Am I being overly anal about this?!?

Ugh

I find myself completely frustrated this evening. I started this morning with my two oldest kids fighting over who gets the Aeropostale beanie with the red stripe, and my youngest failing at making his bed. I should have just gotten them out the door and gone back to sleep, since I didn't have to work, but I'm far too type-A to do something like that, so I put on my sneakers like I was going to work out ... and proceeded to fall asleep in front of the PC.

It's now past eleven o'clock here, and I've barely done any exercise, barely done any work, failed to make bread to go with our chili for dinner (which did turn out well, especially with the huge sauteed onion mixed in; yum.) I think I'll putter around for a little while longer, than get some sleep and try to start my day better tomorrow.

The Stretch Run

So this is the last week of NaBloPoMo. Hooray! I don't know if I'll get anything for writing here every day, but it has been a challenge, no doubt about it. There have been more than a few days where I've stared at the Create Post page for ten minutes, trying to think of anything interesting to talk about.

I think I got to participate in a small miracle tonight. My mother-in-law called me tonight and asked me to bring over my consecrated oil, as her newest grandson Brodie, who is living with her with her mom and dad as they get their feet back under them, was wheezing and coughing. I grabbed my keychain with the flask of oil, and headed over to her house. Brodie was sleeping fitfully at the time, so we waited until his other grandparents could make it over. Once they made it, we headed into his room. I put a small drop of oil on my finger and rubbed it on his forehead, then put my hands on his head and finished the anointing. Grandpa then took over, and we sealed the anointing and blessed him to be whole. By the time we finished, he had woken and was in full voice. He immediately drank a full bottle of formula, and looked much happier, or at least sounded better. We'll see how he does, but I feel confident that he'll now recover fully.

Reasons To Rejoice

Today, I taught a lesson based on a talk from Elder Dieter Uchtdorf from this past October's General Conference, about how the gospel can give us joy, even in times of sorest trials. The lesson went fairly well, although I didn't study the talk nearly long enough. It did, however, give me cause to reflect on the things that make me feel joy.

As this is ostensibly a music blog (well, it was at first, but has mutated since), new musical discoveries always bring me joy. There are so many talented artists out there toiling in obscurity, and it's wonderful to find them, and hopefully bring them to a bigger audience.

I also rejoice that my family seems to be getting closer together. Our recent vacation went really well, with a few potholes, of course. Morgan has his moments, as all teenagers do, but when he's not trying to prove how cool he is, he's a good guy. Really.

My friends are an unending source of joy. The only disappointment in that regard is that they're all online friends, and therefore still removed slightly.

And finally, my faith is a great source of joy, in that whenever I feel overwhelmed, or feel unequal to the tasks before me, I can know that if I continue to press forward and do the things I know I need to do, the rest will take care of itself.

Home again

No more vacation posts, I'm home, and had to get right back to work, bleech.

It was so hard to leave our friends, to come back to Wichita. They had been so warm and welcoming, even though I had hardly seen the husband all week. Poor guy's getting hammered by angry shoppers at Best Buy right now, even. What a life. At least they pay him well for his efforts. Ozark, MO is so green and beautiful, with lots of rolling hills that would have been great for long bike rides. And if I had brought my laptop, I could even have used their network to work. Sigh. Alas, I have two lessons for which to study and teach tomorrow at church, and needed to hurry back.

We discovered, over the past few days, that our middle son Jordan may be a good singer. He was playing the American Idol game for the PS/2 all week, and was doing really well. Now, I'm not about to give Simon Cowell another penny, but we do plan on getting the Rock Band game as soon as we have the spare coinage, and we now know who will be our band vocalist. I'll take the drums, as I think I'm better at that than guitar. Morgan can take the guitar, and Melissa can be the token-female bassist, our Kim Deal, as it were. :)

Anyway, the drive home was thankfully uneventful. We made it home in five hours easily, maybe even less. The only disappointment there was to get home and find out that the power is no longer working in the master suite. Ugh, we get to call over our electrician brother-in-law.

Vacation Post #5: Black Friday

Another Black Friday has come and gone. Whew. I really despise what this day has turned into, a non-stop festival of materialism and avarice. I was given the option to watch the kids (our two youngest and our friends' four) instead of going shopping, and happily took it. That really says it all; I would rather babysit than shop.

My wife got home maybe twenty minutes ago, and informed me that she stole a sale item from an unattended cart. I am shocked and appalled.

Here, let The Slits dance it out for you. This will heal your shopping-afflicted soul:

Vacation Post #4: Crumbled Resolve with sweet potato side

I'd love to tell you all that I managed to stick with the diet through the Thanksgiving meal today, but that would be an all-out lie. I ate a week's portion of carbs alone today, not to mention the mounds of turkey and fruit salad. Even the green beans, which served a role as the only vegetables on the menu, were coated in cheese and creamy soup, and covered in French-fried onions.

As has become custom, I was in charge of the turkey, so I got up at 8 this morning and washed the brine off the bird, and got it started in the oven. I have also done the sweet potatoes and gravy, and did so again this year. The sweet potatoes came out sooo good this yea, I feel a great need to share the recipe. Beware, it's really hard, though. ;)

6 large sweet potaotes
1/2 c butter
2 c brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg

Peel the sweet potatoes, and slice 1/2 inch thick. Melt the butter in a saucepan, then add the sweet potatoes and other ingredients into the saucepan and cover. Reduce to low heat and cook for at least 1 hour, stirring occasionally.

Basically, the sweet potatoes cook in syrup. They turn out firm, yet soft, and sweet as can be. I wish I had made more, though, because they were gone in a flash.

Seriously, how am I supposed to restrict myself, with all this yumminess about me, as a recovering food addict? Well, I didn't. I failed miserably. It's not a problem, though, because tomorrow I will hit the treadmill, as I have done every morning since we got here, and work it off, and get back on track.

Vacation Post #3: Throwed Rolls and Other Delights

Morning in Ozark, Missouri arrived gray and cold. We had sleet by noon today, which put a damper on my desire to borrow a bicycle and ride around town today. It would have been really nice as well, as there are lots of green hills and valleys to treasure, but not so much when the roads are slick and icy. So, I sufficed with the treadmill.

Today, we went ahead and partook in a part of this trip that everyone both looks for and dreads in one: the trip to Lambert's. If you've never heard of Lambert's, you've never experienced real gastronomic excess. If you leave Lambert's hungry, you're trying really hard, because they find new and exciting ways to get the food to you.

That starts with the throwed rolls. I don't know why they're called throwed rolls instead of thrown rolls; I'm sure it's a fascinating story. Anyway, about every five minutes, a young man calls out "Hot rolls!", and proceeds to throw them at anyone with a hand raised. They're hot and fluffy, with loads of butter and honey at the tables, and the waitress with the surghum molasses right behind. Oh my stars, they're delicious!

Next come the waitresses bearing bowls of fried potatoes and fried okra to the table. The fried okra sounds disgusting, but they're delicious as well, little fried balls of cornbread batter with okra inside. Keep in mind, at this point, you haven't ordered any food, and could already be well on the way to being stuffed.

Then comes the food. I've ordered their chicken-fried steak each time I've been there, and have been delighted each time. It's huuuuuuuge, at least the size of my head, with a huge portion of mashed potatoes and milk gravy on top, with two servings of "veggies" (choices include a baked potato or white beans).

How did I dare survive this feast with my newfound diet? Well, first thing, as soon as I realized that I would be eating there today, I made sure I didn't eat any carbs or protein, knowing full well that Lambert's would take care of those, and then some. We also went early, giving our bodies lots of time to digest before settling in for the night. I substituted a bowl of steamed baby carrots for the mashed potatoes, and chose green beans for the other side. (OK, I also got pineapple walnut salad, but I gave that to Josh.) I gave some of the steak to Josh, although I wished he had eaten more. And, most importantly, my hand didn't go up every single time the hot roll guy came by.

Make no mistake, I still overate, by a long shot, but it could have been so much worse. Instead of eating a dozen rolls, I only had four. I only had honey on the last one. And I only asked for seconds on the vegetables (Oh yeah, did I mention that all meals are all-you-can-eat? Can you imagine needing more than one chicken-fried steak the size of your head?!?)

We finished eating at 4:00, and it's past 10, and I'm still stuffed. Oy. My stomach is well-stretched for Thanksgiving food, heh.

Vacation Post #2

To the people of O'Reilly Auto Parts:

This is to inform you of the kind service I received this day from an unknown employee of your store in Cuba, MO.
In the midst of our trip from Illinois to Ozark, MO, we experienced sluggish performance and our Check Engine light came on. I pulled off the highway and tried replacing the air filter, to no avail. At the suggestion of a gas station attendant, I pulled into O'Reilly Auto Parts to get some advice. I got much more than that.
The employee pulled out his diagnostic device and plugged it into the port in our car, and immediately figured out the possible cause of the trouble. He reached in under the hood and found a problem: one of the vacuum hoses had broken. He went in, cut a length of hose, replaced it, and retested the car. All the time, he kept us in high spirits and reassured us that he would help us solve all the issues he could. It turned out that the hose solved all our issues.
I will not soon forget his kindness and knowledgefulness.

Thanks again,

(signature)

Vacation post #1

I'm gonna make this quick, as I'm on a stranger's computer.

We left home at 9 this morning and, after driving nine hours, successfully made it to Chatham, IL to meet my wife's online friend and her family. They're a very nice family, so far. Took us out for a Mexican meal that's currently sitting uneasily in their stomach, although that's largely my fault for wanting to stick to the diet. Oh well.

Tomorrow, we go do some touristy stuff (Abraham Lincoln library/museum), and then head down to Missouri to meet our friends there, and get our Thanksgiving on.

I am so jealous right now that my wife gets to meet an online friend before I do. I am so going for Coachella next year, if only to even the score.

Till tomorrow, then!

Walking on Water

Listening to: Cocteau Twins - The Pink Opaque

Something interesting that was brought up in a lesson today that I thought worthy of sharing:
A man in class was talking about how Satan had power over the waters. Quoting from Doctrine & Covenants:

Behold, I, the Lord, in the beginning blessed the waters; but in the last days, by the mouth of my servant John, I cursed the waters.
Wherefore, the days will come that no flesh shall be safe upon the waters.
And it shall be said in days to come that none is able to go up to the land of Zion upon the waters, but he that is upright in heart.

As he was talking with his family about that scripture, he had a sudden impression in his mind, that that was the reason why Jesus walked on the water.

I thought about that for a moment before I realized how profound and simple that was. Certainly Jesus could have used other means to get to his stranded disciples in the boat, or could have stopped the wind and waves from the shore, right? By walking on the water, he showed that while Satan may have power over the waters, Jesus had power over Satan. Not an unknown concept, but an interesting way to show it.

And, to keep going on that point, how cool is it that Peter was able to walk on the water, and show that same dominion over Satan, until his fear caused him to sink into the water? That's a tremendous testimony for anyone that doubts the power of the Lord's appointed servants.

A Few Pounds of Flesh

No, not another weight-loss entry today, although I really do need to get back on that. I'm just very frustrated tonight with the workload that remains on my plate, with vacation approaching.

I work on IT, more specifically, in IT security. I get to do all the grunt work that entails, such as applying security patches, checking security settings, changing passwords, et cetera. I actually like my job a lot, but at times it can be very stressful. In addition, there's always something going on. Usually, I can handle juggling two or three different things, and come out fine.

This past week, on the other hand, has been a non-stop carnival ride. Everything has hit at once. This past Tuesday, Microsoft released their security patches. Sure, there were only two, but it still means scheduling downtime so I may apply the patches to the servers that need them. There have been a number of audit data requests, which all must of course be answered right away. I needed to finish checking server security for a handful of servers. I need to babysit our other security team, in case they FUBAR a server and I get the joyous task of bringing it back to life. Oh yeah, and the cherry on top, th reason I'm so stressed tonight: I need to change the privileged account password for over nine hundred servers. UGH!

The only relief this week has been sweet, beautiful music. That might be obvious, as I've posted more music here than I usually do (I usually MOG about music). Right now, I'm enjoying a mix of sweet-themed songs that's going down nicely.

By Monday, I'll be well out of town, and work will be far behind me. I hope.

Tonight, we got to go to a Thanksgiving dinner at our church, which turned out to be really nicely attended. There might have been 100 people ready to get their feed on, and everyone brought something yummy. I brought a cranberry-orange dipping sauce, that goes really well with turkey, and Melissa brought a huge pan full of potato casserole.

This turned out to also be a good bellwether for how well I'm going to be able to maintain things as a newly slim guy. I knew going in that I would probably overeat, so I planned for it in advance by going real light for breakfast and lunch, and by riding the bike even though I had not planned to do so. I felt a bit bloated when I got home, but now I'm feeling nothing but a bit sleepy. The key was loads of veggies: there was cooked broccoli, steamed carrots, and green bean casserole, and I had more of those things than I did turkey, mashed potatoes, or stuffing. Actually, come to think of it, I don't recall seeing any stuffing. Boo!

How much do you want it?

A couple of weeks ago, Morgan walks up to my wife and I and declares that he wants to join the wrestling team. That kinda came out of nowhere; he had never expressed any interest in wrestling beforehand. However, I know a bit about how he operates; he wants to be with his friends, and he's willing to join anything to do so. After all, he doesn't have to pay anything.

WRONG!

Today, we had a meeting with the coach, and found out that we would not only have to provide wrestling shoes, but also headgear. Not to mention, he would need to get a physical, and since his grandpa is out of town, that means more money. So when we got home, I asked him point-blank why he waned to wrestle. He just said that he just wanted to, so I then asked if he was willing to give up $50 of his own money to wrestle. He marched downstairs, screaming something about how unfair that was.

Was I out of line? Am I being too hard on him? It's not that I don't want him to participate in school activities; he's already in orchestra, was a football manager, and will be on the track team again in the spring. He was committed to those things, and was willing to help defray the costs. And let's face facts: I don't make enough money to just pay out whenever he wants to do something.

I feel like I did the right thing, but I still have this nagging bit of doubt that I might have snuffed out the one thing he's really good at. Such is the stress of parenthood.

Good thing my shoes are clean

... because all the delightful "shoegaze" music that keeps getting released is making me sway lazily along while staring at them.

Point of reference #1: Yesterday's post on DC band Ceremony. That discovery has led to a treasure trove of lovely and loud sounds, from former band Skywave to former band members' other band A Place To Bury Strangers, to label mates Alcian Blue, to unrelated Brooklyn band Dirty on Purpose, who were listed as My$pace "friends" to APTBS.

Point of reference #2: Maps getting nominated for the Mercury Music Prize for the all-too-lovely We Can Create, which helped throw a light on the new wave of bedsit electronic dream weavers.

Point of reference #3: Portland's High Violets, who may have the cutest amateur video I've seen this year for their lovely song "Love Is Blinding".



I could go on, but I had best stop, before the music-drunkenness makes me unable to press Enter.

Where have you been all my life?

Today, I received a most pleasant and agreeable MOG notification. My friend Pekka, a man of discerning taste, delivered this most delicious piece of music: Ceremony. First good sign: their name invokes New Order, a band I reverence above all but a few. Better sign: their imagery rings of My Bloody Valentine, whom I reverence above all.

These guys make music that is positively engineered to make me fall to my knees. Droning vocals low in the mix, buried behind huge walls of guitars and drum machines, dare me to not drop it onto the Gigabeat, run out to the car, and go anywhere at high velocity. And the melodies and vocal harmonies buried in the mix that peek out ever so gently ... swoon.

Seriously, go to their Myspace NOW NOW NOW, and prepare to fall in love.

Then again, maybe just watch this:

Hey MOGgers!

Ever notice that every time the MOGfather makes some announcement to get us all psyched for the new MOG, the system simultaneously responds by dropping a deuce all over itself? Today, there are no notification e-mails. It's crazy, and it's getting very frustrating.

Look, I don't want to start a MOG-bashing session, which is why I'm not posting this on Multiply. I still enjoy MOG greatly, and keep finding out about bands that would have escaped my attention otherwise. Besides, I would not have met so many wonderful people outside of its pages.

I would just like it very much if, instead of providing some flashy new interfaces or toys or whatever, we get a site that works properly. I've had too many days where no notification e-mails have gone out, and to be honest, I don't have the time to MOG that I once did; I rely on the notifications to know when one of my Trusteds posts. I'd like a MOG-o-Matic that doesn't take hours to update, and that accepts my meticulously updated ID3 tags as the actual data. I'd also like that phantom MOG-Mail that has sat in my box unread because I can't find it. I'd like MOG to stop having so much gas. But mostly, I'd like to never see Schloopy again!

A clean and pure vessel

Sunday again ... more musings from my lessons from church. You know the drill.

Today, one of the two lessons I taught this day was about the prophet Joseph Smith. As I was studying, I was wondering about something specific that I read. I was reading the words of Spencer W. Kimball, which taught:

And the individual was prepared in the person of a youth, clean and open minded, who had such implicit faith in the response of God that the heavens could not remain as iron and the earth as brass as they had been for many centuries.

This budding prophet had no preconceived false notions and beliefs. He was not steeped in the traditions and legends and superstitions and fables of the centuries. He had nothing to unlearn.

He had read in the Bible that God would answer his prayer, and just accepted it as truth. I pondered to myself why this had to be so.

As I pondered, it hit me: Imagine, if you will, and older person, that had spent many years in any of the Christian churches of the time. He would have learned to memorize the Nicene Creed, and would have recited it thousands of times. It would have been ingrained in his thoughts regarding Deity. Now imagine that same man seeing this vision:

I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me. It no sooner appeared than I found myself delivered from the enemy which held me bound. When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!(Joseph Smith-History 1:16-17)

That vision would have been so out of line with this man's understanding of what God looks like that he would have instantly disbelieved it, and thought it a vision from Satan. He never would have accepted it as a vision from God.

On the other hand, take a boy of fourteen, who lived in a family that loved God and read from the Bible daily. He was familiar with prayer, though not familiar with praying vocally while alone. He knew that, in order to learn more about God, he could read from the Bible and gain wisdom. He also had a father that was inspired enough to have known for himself that none of the churches of the time were true, and had enough strength of conviction to keep his family away from the various sects, despite the intense religious excitement of the day. Such a boy would receive the vision described above as what it was: a personal vision from his Heavenly Father and his Son, the Savior. He would have accepted the seemingly simple doctrine that they were two distinct personages, yet acted as one.

This also explains the wildly hostile reaction from the pastors around them, when Joseph recounted the vision that he had seen:

Some few days after I had this vision, I happened to be in company with one of the Methodist preachers, who was very active in the before mentioned religious excitement; and, conversing with him on the subject of religion, I took occasion to give him an account of the vision which I had had. I was greatly surprised at his behavior; he treated my communication not only lightly, but with great contempt, saying it was all of the devil, that there were no such things as visions or revelations in these days; that all such things had ceased with the apostles, and that there would never be any more of them.
I soon found, however, that my telling the story had excited a great deal of prejudice against me among professors of religion, and was the cause of great persecution, which continued to increase; and though I was an obscure boy, only between fourteen and fifteen years of age, and my circumstances in life such as to make a boy of no consequence in the world, yet men of high standing would take notice sufficient to excite the public mind against me, and create a bitter persecution; and this was common among all the sects—all united to persecute me. (Joseph Smith-History 1:21-22)

Well, of course they did! Everything in his vision discounted centuries of accepted dogma regarding the very nature of God. To accept his vision as truth, they would have to accept that the foundation of their preaching was false, and they would have lost the confidence of their congregations, not to mention their source of income. With that in mind, it's no surprise that they persecuted him so.

As for myself, I know that the account of the vision that spring day of 1820 is true. I spent much time studying the story (commonly referred to as the First Vision), and finally received the comforting assurance of the Spirit of God that it really happened, as it has been written. How marvelous it is to know that, same as in Biblical times, there is a man on earth that speaks as the mouthpiece of Gad!

Not good times, bad times

Listening to: My preliminary L mix, 120 songs. Pruning will be difficult. ;) Right now, it's Morrissey - Last of the International Playboys.

I had thought that I had never had a bad time at a concert, but Lucy's Erasure post reminded me that that was not true. So come, take a tour through my recollections as I recount the worst time I've ever spent at a concert.

The tear was 1988. I was working to save up money for my mission, and living as cheaply as possible. It was a fun time in many ways, but I was still a bit uncomfortable in my environs. I had spent a wonderful first year at college in Tucson, and really felt more at home there than in my hometown.

Anyway, when I heard that Erasure was coming to town, I knew that I had to go, so without thinking I snapped up a ticket to their show at Irvine Meadows Amphitheater, my first show there. I was really excited, until I read the date on the ticket. Oops, the show was on Sunday. I decided to go anyway, figuring it would be worse to waste the ticket. That did, however, ensure that none of my friends would be going with me. That didn't worry me either; I had had such a great experience earlier that summer at the Depeche Mode show at the Rose Bowl, meeting plenty of friendly people, I figured it wouldn't be an issue.

WRONG!

As soon as I got into the venue, I felt ill at ease. Maybe it was my conscience, but I felt distinctly uncomfortable. Maybe it was so many people with their concert T-shorts, and me without enough cash to afford one. Anyway, I went in and found that I had an aisle seat. No one had yet arrived in my row, so I sat through the opening act, whose name I forget, and who no impression on anyone around me.

During intermission, the people that sat next to me finally showed. They were a couple, and only had eyes and ears for each other. My efforts to initiate conversation were met with stony silence. Super.

The Erasure show itself went well enough, though any lingering doubts I had about Andy Bell's sexuality were completely shattered. There was little dancing, though, and I felt stupid just standing there, watching. The crowd was completely not into it. I think some people even booed when Andy went into a speech about practicing kissing boys on his pillow.

I couldn't have left faster than I did, but I still got stuck in traffic. Then some moron that was try to cross spent five minutes cussing me out loudly, because I couldn't move enough for him to pass.

Maybe it would have been better not remembered. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Party Games

Listening to: Nine Black Alps - Love/Hate

This morning, my wife was too sick to take care of her calling to teach seminary, so she asked me to cover. Luckily for me, today was game day, a chance to let the kids learn about the scriptures in a fun way. We dug around last night and found a game based on the party game Taboo, got it together, and let the kids try it out. It worked great; all the kids were involved, on the edge of their seats, and working together as teams. I couldn't have been more pleased. They gave me the ultimate seal of approval; they asked if we could play it again.

This makes me think, what's better at a party then getting people together to play Taboo? What a perfect game! You're forced to work together, and hang on the clue giver's every word. Connections get formed, and lines of communication are opened. Great ice-breaker. And let's not forget the joy of the buzzer! How many guys have NOT used that thing as a shaver?

I think it's time we get some people over for some game time. We still don't know our neighbors very well, which is a shame. Also, there are plenty of people from church that I'd like to get to know better.

Besides, it's a great excuse to play Scattergories for the purpose of showing off my knowledge of obscure band names. Heh.

Drawing a blank

I've been staring at this page for fifteen minutes now. There are things I need to write, but I've waited too long, and my brain is now mush. I promise I'll put something better up tomorrow.

Until then, please enjoy some Meat Beat Manifesto:

Short and sweet today

Heaven help me, I loves some Nine Black Alps.

The love of music, next generation

Today is a very proud day at our house. Our second child, Jordan, just performed at his first band concert, after a mere five weeks of instruction on his trumpet. We also found out recently that our oldest, Morgan, has not only made second chair at the middle school for viola, but has been selected for the district's honor orchestra, which convenes this Saturday.

swelling with pride

It's curious how the instrumental programs here work. The band program is huge, gets fiercely competitive by high school, and gets richly rewarded. Until last year, the main reason people would attend high school sports was to hear the band. The bands are always flying off to Six Flags or Disneyland, and even got to march at the Holiday Bowl in San Diego a few years ago.
Orchestra, on the other hand, is just now starting to develop into something that's a big deal. The music is getting more complex, the awards are starting to come, and the orchestra is getting to go on trips now.

When I was in school, we just pounded rocks on other rocks to make music. OK, it just feels that way. Anyway, I wasn't able to pick from all the instruments until fifth grade, but could play a string instrument starting in third grade. Yeah, thanks a lot for messing THAT up, Prop 13. GRR

With the boys, they get to pick any instrument and start playing in fifth grade. They make a big deal out of it, let the kids come and try them all out, and finally have a big sign-up day at the school where we sign up for the instrument of choice, get the rental agreement, and pay for the music and everything else.

Morgan, being the contrary sort he is, decided to play viola because he wanted to play something different. One year in, he showed real talent, but wanted to switch to percussion because he saw all the cool things the band kids got to do, and felt left out. We promised to let him try out for percussion, and work out private lessons with a high school kid from church, if he continued to practice the viola. Sadly, it didn't pan out for him; we've been forced to nag him to bring the viola home and practice. His talent still allows him to outshine the other kids, but I wonder how much longer that will last.

Jordan, being the more happy-go-lucky sort, actually wanted to play trombone but was told that his arms were too short. If you've seen Jordan, you'd know how much that made me laugh. Jordan has never been too small for anything, in any of his ten years. Tonight, we also found out that one of his friends, who is almost a year older but quite a bit smaller, is playing trombone. What the?!? Anyway, Jordan switched to trumpet, and has been delighted with it so far. He practices with minimal supervision, and is excited to see the older kids at their performances, so he can see what the future holds.

And I get to think of what great music they'll make, once Jordan gets better, and they can find music they can play together. Right now, practice time gets pretty dissonant.

Vacation approaches

Listening to: For Against - Echelons

Back to the grind today. Bleech. I can't wait for two weeks from now, where I'll get to be offline for an entire blissful seven working days. Ah, such sweet relief.

The kids had to go back to school for the first time in six days, but they weren't too bad about it. I fully expect that to change by about Wednesday. Then, the fangs will come out as they complain about having to get up so early. It was nice as well to have a quiet house in which to work. It's hard to keep telling the boys to be quiet because I'm on yet another conference call.

So, we're back in the routine, at least for the next two weeks. Then we're off for Chatham, IL, to meet Melissa's online friend Dawn, who's actually living in the UK right now. (Hmm, maybe I'll fit in her luggage.) The next day, we'll travel back down to Ozark, MO, to visit our dear friends, whose faces will split in shock at my new physique. I can't wait.

It's Sunday, so that means more things to ponder that I picked up from church today. As always, if that kind of thing makes you itchy, move on. No hard feelings.

We spent some time today in Sunday School discussing the thirteenth article of faith:

We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul—We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.

Isn't that lovely? Who can't get behind a sentiment like that? Anyway, the question came up: What is the admonition of Paul?

Well, here it is, in Phillipians 4:8:

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

After giving this some careful consideration, it hit me: we need to be finding those things that are true, honest, just lovely, et cetera, wherever they may be found.

That may not be revelatory to some, but hear me out on this. We Latter-Day Saints tend to be very insular, willing to read, see, and listen to only a few things, all within the bounds of that which is "safe". In many milieus, I'm the same; I'm more comfortable going to the movies than the art museum, I don't read a lot, I play it safe in the films I do decide to watch. Really only with music do I eagerly seek out good things wherever they may be.

What I guess I'm saying, is that it's high time I get to the library and do some reading, and it's time to get to the museum in town and get my art on. I will still have my limits; still no rated R movies for me. That still leaves a lot of places for truth to be found.

But how will I know the truth when I see/read/hear it? That's easy enough; the Spirit of God testifies of truth, so as long as I stay close enough to be able to listen to the Spirit, I'll be in good hands.

Where I Came From

One of the reasons I signed up for NaBloPoMo in the first place was so I could take some time to document the things I've gone through to lose weight. It's been a hard long slog this year, but it has absolutely been worth it.

That fact got driven home today, as a friend called for some help. He had bought himself an elliptical machine, and needed help lugging it down to his basement. I drove over to help him, because he's a good guy and if the elliptical is what gets him going, then bully for him. Thing is, though, is he's a BIG guy. Scarily so. He's maybe five foot ten, and weighs nearly 320 pounds.

Here's what's sad; last year, I made him look like a pixie.

Last year was my absolute nadir of physical condition. After Thanksgiving, I probably weighed close to 370 pounds, spread all over my six feet two. My waist was nearing fifty inches. I was relegated to 4XL shirts, and my neck was approaching 22 inches. I would huff and puff walking up fourteen steps to get from our basement to ground floor. My wife, bless her heart, didn't nag me (much), but she was secretly scared to death that I would die soon.

How did I get that way? In my case, it was simple: I would overeat uncontrollably. I would go through portions of food that would stuff a normal person, and find room for more. When my wife would gently suggest that I had eaten enough, I would eat more out of spite. There were more than a few times that I would eat until it became hard to breathe. In addition, I hardly ever moved anywhere except from the couch to the PC to the bed.

What made me change? Strangely enough, my competitive spirit. My wife called me one night, as I was out picking up groceries, and suggested that I go to the local sporting goods store and sign up for a weight-loss contest, with a sizable cash prize. Motivated by the money, as well as a nagging feeling deep down that I wasn't living right, I signed up. I was given a diet and some suggestions for exercise, then I was weighed. On that day, December 27, 2006, I weighed 355 pounds.

I looked at the diet when I got home, and almost quit right away. It looked impossible, to be honest. I decided to make a deal with myself to try it out for a week, and see how it went. I wouldn't even try to exercise, like I could have at that point anyway. (I'll get to the diet restrictions later, I promise.)

One week passed, and I weighed in. To my delight, I had lost nine pounds, and didn't feel completely ravenous with hunger. That sealed the deal; I would stick with the diet.

Where am I today? Today, I weighed in on my friend's scale, after getting the elliptical down to his basement, and weighed in at 217 pounds. That may be off, because he had just purchased the scale, and it wasn't tared properly, but I'm not much heavier than that. My size 38 jeans have to be cinched to fit properly. My size 19 dress shirts make me look like a kid wearing his dad's clothes. I've lost weight off my feet, for Pete's sake.

Visual evidence: here's me, after six weeks of diet, having already lost 27 pounds.



















Here's me, from this past December.

Time well spent

Two tickets to the second-run theater to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix for the third time a piece ... $5.00.
A gallon of milk, Rice Chex, and hair color ... $13.27.
Dinner for two at the Chinese buffet place ... $23.04.
Letting Melissa know that I'm not glued to the PC, skiving off work to spend a night with her, and counting her almost sixteen years into our marriage ... priceless.

Oh yeah, good times.

I don't know why I get suckered into Chinese buffet. We actually have a pretty good Chinese restaurant that we found right after moving here, but we still try other places, and each time I've come out disappointed. What really gets me is why some places feel the need to compete with Hometown Buffet and the like, by offering poorly-done fried chicken and French fries, or heaven help me, enchiladas, instead of just hooking up some really good Chinese food. It's sad, really. They at least had some basic sushi, which was nice, and their mushrooms in brown gravy was good.

I had to laugh as I sat down with my first plate. I had piled it pretty good, but I had broccoli I had taken from the beef & broccoli, green beans, mushrooms, and a yummy chicken & veggie stir-fry. If I had been there last year, it would have been laden sky-high with lo mein and meat and the like. I walked out today feeling full, but not totally bloated.

Melissa and I decided that OotP may be the most subtle of the Harry Potter movies, because it reveals little secrets from close inspection. For example, you can see the scowl that crosses Ginny's face every time Harry and Cho talk together. There's rock music in the Gryffindor common room, and I couldn't quite hear it well enough to place who does it. So I'm a Harry Potter geek; it's little things like that that bring me joy.

Well, enough for today. Good night all.

Ack, today's the day!

I completely forgot about NaBloPoMo starting, to the point where I almost forgot to post here!

NaBloPoMo, for those unaware, is the blog-posting equivalent of NaNoWriMo, and stands for National Blog Posting Month. The idea is to get those creative juices flowing by forcing oneself to make a blog post every day through the month of November.

To be honest, I don't know if I'll make it. No, not because I want to slack out, or because I lack material. The problem is that I have a huge vacation coming up around Thnaksgiving, and I don't know how much time I'll be able to use to access a PC and make a post.

Heck, I almost missed tonight, due to the following things that took away my attention:
That job thing
Cooking chicken noodle soup and snickerdoodles for our missionaries, as it was our turn to feed them
Dealing with a spouse with a killer migraine
Having to study for her seminary class, due to said headache
Babysitting another team that is upgrading our anti-virus software
Dealing with three boys, their friends, and their never-ending sugar-fueled requests for sleepovers
Trying to potty-train Suki the Evil Terrier

Ugh, I had best get on with that seminary lesson. I'm supposed to cover Exodus 5-7 in a coherent manner for a group of high-school age kids, all extremely intelligent.

Wow, NaBloPoMo is getting off to a rip-roaring start here. :P

Someday

Listening to: 2006 In Its Right Place - Ladies First

This is a result of some things I've been thinking about all week, culminating in a lesson I taught in Elders' Quorum today. This will get preachy, so if that bothers you, move on.

We all have those "Someday I will ..." things that we consider from time to time. Mine is that someday I will learn to play the acoustic guitar that currently collects dust in my closet. What gets scary is when those "someday" things are more important than that, like "someday I will foster a better relationship with my children" or "someday I will read the scriptures and find out if they're true" or "someday I will forgive my enemy".

Why would that be scary? Because we don't know how many someday's we will get. That point got rammed home for me this week. An acquaintance, someone with a great mind and superior writing skill, and a great friend to many of my friends, died last week suddenly. As I dealt with the loss, I thought of what he left behind. the man had plans, good plans: he was moving to Europe to be with his paramour, he was making inroads in his writing career. Now, he's got no more someday's to make those things happen. That's what hurts most; what could have been?

In the Book of Mormon, here's how it gets laid out:
And now, as I said unto you before, as ye have had so many witnesses, therefore, I beseech of you that ye do not procrastinate the day of your repentance until the end; for after this day of life, which is given us to prepare for eternity, behold, if we do not improve our time while in this life, then cometh the night of darkness wherein there can be no labor performed.
Ye cannot say, when ye are brought to that awful crisis, that I will repent, that I will return to my God. Nay, ye cannot say this; for that same spirit which doth possess your bodies at the time that ye go out of this life, that same spirit will have power to possess your body in that eternal world. (Alma 34:33-34)

Here's how it reads: Someday will only get us in trouble is "someday" does not mean "this day". This day is the day to make the changes I want to make in my life. I don't know how many days I have left. Naturally, I hope to have many many more, but the point is, I don't know, so why not live today to its fullest?

With that in mind, here's a few things that I intend to do to get where I know I need to be:

• Start my days with some time to pray and read the scriptures by myself. I'm real good about doing those things with the boys, but I need to do it myself.


• Remember that my boys start their day just as groggy as I do, so don't jump on them in the mornings for little things. I need to be the one setting the tone in the mornings.


• Make sure I'm getting my work done during the day; maybe spend a bit less time playing around on the Internet.


• Invite our neighbors, the ones with whom Jordan has become friends, to our church's Halloween activity, and maybe slip them a pass-along card while I'm at it.


• Stop staying awake until all hours of the night, especially when I know I need to get up at 6:15 every weekday morning.


• And, just for the heck of it, get that darn guitar out of the closet and start practicing my scales again.

Discomfort times 12

Listening to: Underworld - Second Toughest In The Infants

I'm a happily married man; I have been for almost sixteen years now. I've not once had a thought of straying. So, why is it that going to buy condoms makes me bust out in shame-blushes, like I'm cheating? Shouldn't I happily saunter up to the counter, slap down my money, and order up my dozen?

Tonight, I got word that we were out, and that I should probably get some more. Being dutiful above all else, I went to the nearest mega-lo-mart.

Here's where my Y chromosome betrays me; I won't ask for directions. So I spend about five minutes wandering around the pharmacy section, looking for condoms fruitlessly. Finally, I get spotted. Of course it's not a male, but a cute lil' pharmacy assistant. The resulting conversation went like this:

"May I help you find something?"
(to shoes)"Yes. I'm looking for condoms."
"Sorry?"
(slightly louder, to the counter) "I'm looking for condoms."
"Sorry, I can't hear you."
"I'M LOOKING FOR CONDOMS!"
"Oh ... hold on ... (to pharmacist) WHERE ARE THE CONDOMS?"
"They're over that way, behind the hair color."
(I start walking that direction)
"Wait! May I help you find them?"
(to self) "No, I can't think of anything I want less right now."
(out loud) "No thanks."

Seriously, do they train pharmacy assistants to do that for sick kicks? Thanks for making me feel like a pervert. Sheesh!

Darth Vader is gone

Listening to: Shiny Toy Guns - We Are Pilots

For those first reading this, I've recently lost a great deal of weight. People ask me constantly if I have more energy, and I most certainly do. I recently discovered another health benefit that has me very excited.

Due to my excess weight, I had developed weight-induced sleep apnea. For those unfamiliar, that means that from time to time at night, my windpipe would get pinched shut, forcing me to wake up to breathe again. It's just as unpleasant as it sounds. I would snore in the worst way; my roommates would either shake me awake, ask me to wait to go to bed until they were sound asleep, or in the worst case throw water on me.

My wife tolerated my snoring for a long time, but it got progressively worse and worse, until she had finally had enough and kicked me out of the bed. We spent four years not sleeping together, which led to four years of not doing other things together.

In addition, my job performance was suffering. Since I never really slept well, I was constantly tired, and would fall asleep at work during conference calls or periods of slow time. I would have to stand around or pace during meetings with the lights dimmed, or I would fall asleep. Unfortunately, that happened in front of managers enough times that I was warned to get it straightened out. That drove me (slowly) to go to the doctor to see what was the matter. I was put in a sleep test where they put a hundred different probes and other things on me, and finally diagnosed me with acute sleep apnea.

My therapy was to sleep with a machine called a CPAP, short for Constant Positive Air Pressure, that would force air into my lungs, keeping my windpipe open enough that I could sleep through the night. What a godsend! After getting accustomed to having a mask around my nose, I was able to sleep without snoring. My energy and mood immediately improved, as did my work performance. It didn't matter that my voice sounded funny or that I looked like Darth Vader with the mask on.

Fast forward to this week. My mask no longer fits properly, since I've lost so much weight, so I would have to fuss with it all night, making it more trouble than it was worth. My wife finally suggested that I try sleeping without the mask, to see if I still snored.

The results at present are mixed. My wife noted that I no longer snore, which is good. I feel much more tired, though, and don't sleep as soundly. It may just be a matter of getting accustomed to breathing properly while sleeping, instead of letting the CPAP essentially breathe for me. Stay tuned ...

Start Here

Listening to: Autokat - Late Night Shopping

I've been meaning to gather my thoughts on the things I have done to get rid of my excess weight. Now, I've never had a problem finding a forum, or support, at my other homes on the Internet. That's not really the point, though. This just seems like a nice place for it. I can always cross-post if it works out well.

Who knows? Maybe I'll even try to get it published. That's kinda putting the cart before the horse, though.


There's one book (well, the one non-scripture book) that I read without fail every year, so I stay in contact to it. That book is Scott Adams' "The Dilbert Principle." I think it helps me keep a arms-length distance from some of the BS in the workplace that management tries to shove down our throats. For me, this is especially helpful, as I tend to be very idealistic, and "The Dilbert Principle" helps me keep a safe level of cynicism.
Anyway, in the beginning of "The Dilbert Principle", Scott says that reading a book on office politics from an academic is like reading a book on cannibalism from someone that read the book "Alive", and then reassures us by informing us that he has chewed a leg or two.
Why do I bring up such a disgusting image? Is that the key, that I forced myself to think of cannibalism while eating? Heavens, no! Let's face it; there are a LOT of weight loss books out there, and so many of them come from doctors and personal trainers. How do they know what it's like to be fat? Have they studied it in labs, or have they lived it? Have they felt the paralyzing torpor that propels so many people to remain on the couch, shoveling in salty snacks? Have they pushed away from the table, knowing full well that they should have stopped eating two platefuls of food ago?
Well, in that sense, rest assured that I've chewed a leg or two in my life.

Put your shoulder to the wheel

Listening to: Radiohead - Hail To The Thief

One thing you'll see here is my thoughts and feelings about my faith. It's a BIG part of my life, although that hasn't come through my MOG posts. I also never felt comfortable sharing that side of me in Multiply posts, mostly due to the OVERWHELMING anti-religious tone from a number of people, mostly contacts of contacts. Here, I feel no such burden. I'll understand if these posts don't get as many comments. But if you do read and don't understand something, please ask; I realize that we Mormons have our own vocabulary, so some things may not completely make sense.

When we moved from Colorado to Kansas almost four years ago, we knew full well that we would be asked to serve in church a lot. When Melissa's parents lived in Medicine Lodge, KS, we would visit them knowing that we would have to teach classes on Sunday, even though we didn't live there. There are so few members of the Church here that if you have a pulse and a testimony, you're called to serve.

That has proven true, more than I ever thought possible. Melissa currently serves as an early-morning seminary instructor. That means she gets up every morning at 5:00 AM (yes, there is a 5 AM), arrives at church, and teaches a lesson to high school kids for about 50 minutes. EVERY Monday through Friday. I would never have thought it possible, since she's such a night-owl, but she's doing great at it, and the kids love her. Of course, she comes home and goes back to sleep until noon, so it's not like she's not well-rested. She's also becoming quite the expert on the Old Testament, which is the course of study this year.

As for me, instead of one huge calling, I have four callings of various sizes. First, I've been our ward finance clerk for 2 1/2 years now, meaning that I'm responsible for all funds that come in or go out. I get audited every six months, and I've not had a problem yet. Second, I'm one of two stake technology specialists, meaning I go fix computers for the Lord as well as my employer. ;) Third, I teach twice a month in elders' quorum. Finally, I was recently called to teach our youth about becoming better missionaries, three times a month.

So, if you have noticed that I don't MOG much on Saturdays, it's not because I'm watching football on TV, although that is possibly true too. Likely, I'm studying for a lesson.

Stepping out

So this is a Blogger post ... not too bad, so far.

About the title ... I thought EMCD Online was so very clever (good one Erin), but I think I'm tiring of being anything evil. So now it's Angelic, even though I'm far from angelic myself. Really; just ask Melissa. ;)

I imagine that many of you that are reading this are familiar with me from MOG, Multiply, or both. That's cool; for now, I'll be using this place for things I feel like spouting that don't really mesh with the aims of MOG or Multiply.

Have no fear, though; it's the same person you met (and hopefully liked) from MOG. Just more so. :)