Category Archives: Confessions

Things about me you probably never wanted or don’t need to know.

Pop Tarts

Jessica had a pop tart this morning (also known as ‘The Great Anti-Christ’ to diabetics) and I gave the other pop tart to Abigail (also known as “Dad is Great, He gives us Chocolate Cake” to Bill Cosby fans). However, Abby was not convinced that this was a good idea. She’s just not a big fan of them. This is fine with me because their nutritional value has to be somewhere between an injection of sugar and wonderbread.

Speaking of which when my dad was a kid he used to get loaves of wonderbread and do compression testing on them in comparison contests with whole wheat bread. He would take the loaves, and in complete opposite to Jesus, who turned a few loaves of bread into many baskets of bread, would smash the loaves in a vice. Apparently the wonderbread would smash into a tiny, thin bit ‘o bread while the whole wheat loaves would still maintain some substance simply because they had substance.

Another story of my predecessors is this: My dad used to run tiny electrical wires a few chairs ahead of him in school and attach those wires to the bottoms of the metal clips that held the seat to the structure of the desk. He would then attach the positive and negative ends of a battery to the wire ends, shock the crap out of the person in the seat and then yank the wires back to him so that he would be away from the scene of the crime (a few desks back) and have the wires and battery hidden in a pocket.

Hearing this story growing up probably helped me learn a valuable lesson: Don’t get caught… and its better to be an instigator who plants ideas rather than the one actually doing the naughty deed. As an adult I’ve learned this: I’m so in trouble when my kids get older and learn about these things because it will be me who has to explain to parents that my little girl is only doing what she learned about from her grandpa, great grandpa and dad.

Hospitality

Jessica and I have been married for over six years now, and it’s been great. Jessica is much more introverted than I am. When people come over I get charged and want them to stay until 10:30 or 11:00. Jessica, however, is tired when people leave because often she is just exerting so much more emotional energy. However, she loves to entertain. She’s a great cook and she loves to make special foods, little treats and throw together a little social event.

I had suggested that we buy a house that meets various needs we have and Jessica threw something my way that just caught me off guard: she wants good room for hosting people, having guests spend the night, feeding more than two other adults and room for kids to actually (gasp) play. Basically she wants to be hospitable and that’s something that I think is terrific. I was just listening to an MP3 from Mars Hill church in Seattle and the teacher is talking about hospitality. I have harped on others needing to be hospitable (scripture says elders need to be hospitable – if your pastors and elders are not so, take a close look at I Timothy 3) and have left church because the people were not. Surely this is something that should be ingrained in me. And in fact it is. My parents were very hospitable folks growing up and I don’t remember them letting a week go by that they didn’t have someone over for a meal, often times multiple families at multiple meals.

So… in summary I love my wife and I’m glad she’s thinking that way. Also, the pastor in that lesson talked about how our architecture today for homes and buildings is not conducive to hospitality. Looks like we’ll be buying an older home.

Bleu Cheese

I’m just full of confessions today. I’m about to confess something that no one else knows right now, so get ready:
my hands smell like Bleu Cheese. I crumbled some on my lunch today and now no matter how many times I wash my hands they still smell like Bleu Cheese. Since I have to go to the dentist Monday I’m considering taking a large bite of that and some fresh red onion so that I may set a new record for the stinkiest breath ever to be blown in the face of a dentist’s face [that’s a joke, I love dentist, or so I keep telling myself]. I figure that it will match the condition of my teeth in general: poor. I haven’t been to the dentist in some time because frankly I don’t trust them. Not that all dentists are untrustworthy, but that the dentist I went to last seemed so shady that I couldn’t go back and have the tooth drilled and filling installed. The guy’s office was so creepy that I couldn’t handle it.

Worse still the job I had before Alt-N was at a dental supply place that put me in contact with a lot of shifty individuals. Pretty much all dentists fall under two categories for me, the honest and the crazy, cheap, that may be a cavity so lest fill it just in case variety. Sure, I’m a pessimist when it comes to this sort of ‘medicine’ but I’d much rather go to a chiropractor and have them adjust my molars. Of course that won’t help with cavities, but I wonder if they could do that instead of going to an orthodontist. Probably not but it would make for a great movie. Much better than Ballistic anyway.

OK, I’m going to go wash my hands again.

Swimming Lessons

I have been able to be buoyant in the water for some time. But when I ‘swim’ it usually involves way more splashing than is necessary. In fact, I wish that I was only wet while in the shower so that I could not embarass myself with my, “Holy Cow! That man must be drowning!” approach to swimming. I’m not drowning, really. I’m just moving through the water with the gracefullness of a cow being eaten by piranas.

However, tomorrow I’ll be starting swimming lessons. My goal, and I’m not making this up, is to be able to swim in the pool and not get noticed. I also hope to get some cow-print speedos. OK, I’m lying about the speedos.

Loan Ranger

So we’re getting ready to meet the load arranger to start the (scary as heck) process of buying a house. There are several fears I deal with in all of this:

  • Lack of knowledge about what’s going on
  • Lack of control
  • Lack of resale value

I like control, I like knowing that I’m doing something the right way, and preferrably the best way. However, in this process I know it’s not going to be the best way, but it will be the way we can do it (I don’t have 20%+ down). However, I don’t understand how the whole process goes, and I’m hoping that I’ll be able to ‘get it’ quickly.

Because I don’t have a complete knowledge of the process and all of the terms involved I feel like I lack control.

Since the housing market is in constant flux I fear that the value of any home I may purchase will suddenly plummet because of any various change that may strike us, our neighborhood or the market in general. For instance, what if our Jerry Springer neighbors that live above us move into our neighborhood and bring the value of the homes down? I can’t imagine that driving by and hearing a young male scream, “You [words I wouldn’t type on my blog]! I’m going to [other words I won’t type] kill you!” I’m pretty sure that will cause some neighbors to want to move, and others to just call the police. Any regularity of either of those will bring the property value down. Also, what if Satan moves into our neighborhood and makes the Jerry Springer neighbors look good? This too is guaranteed to make the prices of the homes in the area go to hell [gosh that one liner amuses me]. And, lastly, what if the housing bubble that some have described us being in pops and I find myself paying the mortgage for a $230,000 house that is actually only worth $150,00 since Microsoft declared bankruptcy, WalMart bought out Target and Bill Clinton won a third term? Think of the catastophes!

So, as usual, I just need to trust God and seek His wisdom while all of this goes down. Pray for us in this as it’s going to be a bumpy ride and I’m going to have to go to the dentist in a week.

Windows Rehab

So, I’ve been using the iBook for all of my non-Windows required development. It’s painful. Well, no OS-X isn’t painful, it’s Windows that’ is painful. I keep hitting the crazy Alt key while I’m trying to do things. Why? Because the Apple key is right there on the iBook. The real problem is that I’ve developed new habits and now I’m starting to feel the consequences of my actions. I’m reminded of a statement Jesus once made: You can’t serve two masters. So, I’m having to try to straddle the fence, but it feels like it’s a bad plan. If only they made some sort of Microsoft Visual Source Safe plugin for OS-X (if they do, please post a comment).

My Blister is a Mac Blessing

I’m sure the title of this post is odd. However, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the blister on the tip of my index finger from doing funky bass guitar stuff last night (I’m recording ‘Carol of the Bass’, my all bass guitar rendition of ‘Carol of the Bells’) is really handy on the touchpad for the iBook. Sure, it’s annnoying other times but it is the most precise touchpadding I’ve ever done 🙂

City of Breakfasts

Last night I played City of Hero’s at Mike and Luanne’s after taking Jess and Abby up to a meeting point where Amanda, Jess’ cousin would take them up to Sherman a day ahead. What a super game, I know that’s a lame pun, but the game is really unique. I can see playing it for hours being easy to do. I created a super hero that looked like the silver surfer had a son with the incredible hulk but got costume accents from Liberace. He really whooped up on average street thugs, but seemed to have a real weakness when I walked away from the computer to go get water downstairs.

Vincent, a former student of mine, called around 11:45 and so I made plans to have breakfast with him at 6 AM the next morning (this morning). Yeah, that was dumb for several reasons, mostly because I got about 5:40 minutes of sleep. I woke up in a hot, sweaty puddle of toothpaste thinking, “What,” when my alarm clock went off. OK, not really. I just woke up saying, “what?” So I got ready and headed to our meeting place. Only he didn’t come. Instead I ordered breakfast and after ordering he called and said he slept past his alarm. So he came down and I got to spend about 30 minutes with him. Not enough time, but time it was.

So, I’m back at work on this day before Thankgiving thankful that I don’t like in any neighborhoods like City of Hero’s, glad I got to eat breakfast and am Thankful I get to see my wife and daughter again tonight.

What are you thankful for? Jokes?

Shot in the Nostril of Love

Back in the day my good friend Sean and I wrote a bogus country song. I can’t remember all of the words, but here are some of them. I thought you might enjoy knowing how dangerous I was in junior high.

I’ve been shot in the nostril of love
In the middle when push comes to shove
we fit together like a right hand in a left glove
I’ve been shot in the nostril of love

There was a lot more than that, but I can only remember that one stanza. Sean and I had over-active imaginations and we created our own comedy tape (which may be somewhere buried in his parents’ house). Tonight Abby picked out his book at the library with great excitement (it was out on display). I miss Sean and am scolding myself for not having stayed closer in communications.

So, with nine days until Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for friends, including the super crazy ones that put up with the crap I threw their way and stuck it out with me.

Poop Nazi

I have been called a poop nazi this morning. This is a name that I take seriously given that I’m German in descent and I married a rather German woman. Therefore Abby is still a mutt, but she’s got a lot of German blood. The reason I’m a poop Nazi? Because I ask Abigail if she needs to go poop when her face falls into what I would call a blank poop stare. A blank poop stare is one in which her focus can be seen shifting to her bowels and the inner workings of her body. It is like she’s doing a system check to make sure everything is as it should be.

However, I ask more often than Abby needs to go, and so Jessica has called me this crappy name. Therefore, I christen her, the Moderate Mommy.