Darth Disney

My brother recently took a trip to Thailand. It was a glamorous trip, something like I would have very much wanted to do in an earlier life, myself--before kids.   Sunset beaches, great scenic wonders, age-old architecture and artifacts...It was by all counts a great trip, and I know he enjoyed it.

This winter,  we took one of those once-in-a-lifetime vacations like my dad used to take us on when we were growing up.  I will be writing about aspects of that vacation for a long, long time. For this post, I am going to address just one tiny facet of the Disneyland experience. Since I am a Star Wars fan, I was one who went into mourning when Disney bought the rights from Lucas. I did not see how any good could come of that. As we wandered around Disneyland, I noted that Disney has the rights to just about everything, and that list is growing. (I'll write on that again sometime when I feel more political.)

When we did find the Star Wars presence at the park, the force was not strong with us. It was the third day in Disneyland, and it was raining. It rained so much, they canceled the Jedi Training Academy! Like Clark Griswold, I found such a closing intolerable, and I hunted down the nearest Jedi robe-wearing teenaged Disneyland employee to give her a piece of my mind. "Rain? Rain trumps Jedi?" I said. "Well, when it lets up, will there be another show?" To which, the Disney Jedi curled her lip and reprimanded me: "We don't do shows, sir. This is a training academy...but stick around, because some of us are already in costume so we're going to do pictures."

We now have a good number of pictures of our kids with punk kid Jedi Knights, Storm Troopers and Darth Vader. Those are all keepsakes that made that day less drab. However the best picture of the whole day, perhaps the whole vacation, was the one below, however, for it documents my lovely daughter in her truest form, hissing and snarling at Darth Maul.

If one is unfamiliar, hissing and snarling are Ellison's way of repelling strangers. She does this subtly sometimes with just a hiss under her breath or a growl only the animal kingdom can hear. With Darth Vader and others, she gave her best Navi hiss, but when she encountered Darth Maul, it was a hiss/snarl-fest. (She was NOT at all afraid, which is what some people interpret from the picture. Maybe he was.)

I can't wait to blow this up to poster size for her 18th birthday party!

A Tradition

Now, I'm not going to review my whole 500 posts to see if I've written on this, but I'm sure that I have, and I'd venture that I've done it more than once. Back then, I bet I whined about not having much in the way of traditions, but I'd like to revisit that.

Last week I shared a workshop at iTRAC on digital autobiography, and in that setting, I shared a tradition my family had at Christmas: watching slideshows and 8mm home movies.

It was a great tradition that I did not then appreciate, of course, being a kid. The added value was not the popcorn or the movie itself; it was instead the folklore, the family narrative, the voice-over provided by a chorale of familial voices laughing and chiming in on that time my cousin covered herself with talcum to be a ghost or how I once said "boobs" at a Thanksgiving gathering. Almost all those voices have been stilled now by mortality, and in that era none of us thought to record them. (I sure wish we would have!)

The tradition lives on, at least that of storytelling. Every night I am called upon to offer up a long short story. I've been doing this nightly for over ten years now. I'm unschooled in storytelling, but I've learned a lot on the job. What gets a laugh. What's memorable. What gives the kids bad dreams...and I'm wanting to up my game as they get older and read the works of "real" storytellers like Mark Twain.  I hope to take several workshops on storytelling in the future.

Often our stories are collaborative efforts. My wife is amazed at how I build stories from ingredients. I will solicit the kids for one ingredient each, then I spin it into the story in a significant way. They might offer, for instance: pirate, chickens, uncle and underwear. I cannot get away with something like "Your uncle became a pirate and drew chickens on some underwear which he then flew as his flag." 

And, lesson learned from the 8mm days, sometimes I record the stories as they're told, or I "can" a story by recording it in advance, saving a few up for when I might be on the road or something. These are digitally recorded and stored up to someday give the kids' kids. 

Discipline

Well, my best friend warned me of this. He said that my kids would turn on me. (He predicted this when kids strike the teens, however, and it's happening NOW.)

I am not prepared for this. Neither is my wife. No one is, I have learned. We all need more schooling on parenting. Why is it always considered to be a seat of the pants, trial and error enterprise? Why do we all just shrug and "do our best" when we can?

I want to get a degree in fatherhood. I want to learn from someone who's really good at it. Instead, I take time out of my free time to watch movies, work on the pirate ship, sleep...when The Most Important facet of my life, parenting, is neglected.

I know that every situation is full of variables, and I am aware that no two kids are the same, let alone parallel households. None of that should serve as an excuse, however.



I listened to a great TED talk in which a father set up cameras throughout his home to document how his child acquired vocabulary. It was a very intricate study over the course of a year. I wish there were MANY more such studies on EVERY aspect of child rearing. Sometimes I wish I were always on camera, always accountable, for it might make me a better parent. (I've had too many embarrassing outbursts in these 8 years, already, and I regret them all.)

How can I attend to my calling, parenting, when life is so cluttered with everything incidental? How can I find reliable resources, not some quack cashing in on anxious parents?

Right now my kids are needing discipline, and I liberally apply it, but I think it is not done well. A friend of mine never raises his voice (when he and family visit) and yet his kids are shiny-well-behaved. I want to know his secret.

I want all the secrets of parenting....NOW.

Too many pictures?

I have been divided on this for some time: can one take too many pictures?

I grew up in the days when one had to make quite an investment to purchase and develop film. (Developing pictures took a week, postage, patience...). In those days, I think people took pictures more mindful of the result, more attentive to the content. I have never been a photographer, but I was always frugal in my photography, snapping what I considered meaningful photos. (There was, I must admit, a period in my youth when I shot everything! I developed rolls of film from my little Kodak Instamatic yielding nothing much, just lots of cute girls spotted on my vacation, etc.)

I also respect those who by faith and tradition do not like their photos to be taken. See Aniconism. I think we need to be considerate of people who, for whatever reason, do not want captured on film, whether it is just vanity or because they are wanted by authorities. I am also worried whenever my children are photographed, knowing there are (literally) hundreds of their pictures on the Internet now. I fear stalkers, pedophiles, etc.

All that said, my wife is a shutterbug! She takes photography classes. She has a photo-a-day website. She has thousands of pics on facebook, etc. She probably has many gigabytes of photos on her hard drive. When people attend parties at our place, they are surprised if there are not pictures being taken constantly.

On the bright side, there are no gaps in the chronicle of our lives. Everything even remotely significant seems to be immortalized in (digital) film. Whether it's a new Lego castle some kid built or graduating from college, it's all there. Kyle back from the war-Snap. Disney on ice-Snap. Even my kids are in on the act. Chicken lays a big egg-Snap. Chicken poo looks like Italy-Snap.

Our eldest has had so many pictures taken, so many scrapbook pages made of him...he uses these to recollect days gone by. The others have not been forsaken, but they are surely not so thoroughly documented as the eldest.

This, then, leads me to the question I'm wrestling with. When Jax reviews these pictures, how much of what he rattles off is truly memory, and how much of it is reconsititued by pictures he's looking at? Is it memory or is it "photographic memory," pardon the twist on the phrase. I wonder sometimes if making it easy to "remember" by capturing everything in digital images might somehow make it harder to really forge memories.

It's the same information retrieval question I was working on a month or more back. In this era of electronic memory and information, how much content is going to find some traction, some stick, in our true meatspace memory? If it's so easy to access every cake, candle, and present ever received, why would one go to the labor of really remembering it, when it can just be retrieved on a file and reviewed.

I like fond memories and special pictures. I am not so partial to what I am considering an over-documentation of life.

Hmmmm.

Pooped Parent

It's hard striking a balance, being all things to all people. I had no idea how much harder that might be for an involved parent. I'm an engaged parent. I'm into attachment parenting. I guess I'm overly into my kids, but they are already showing signs of not-such-kidness. It's painful.

Anyway, today I worked from 7-11 on the hen house project. Then I went to the YMCA to chaperon the kids at swim lessons, then we did lunch and the play place. Then it was back to the hen house, then supper, now debriefing in all my accounts, etc.

The thing is, I don't find myself having much energy, ever, to be all I want to be to/for my young'uns. I wish I could invert my schedule somehow and work evenings or something when I was too pooped to care. Then I could give more prime time attention to those who matter most--family.

Meanwhile, I am thankful for summer, when there really are more hours in a day. When it's winter, days are so short, but in summer, we have much more elbow room...especially since we're not really into curfews.

Oh well. I guess I'll just try to do better tomorrow.

One Second After

I just finished reading One Second After, and it brought back the shock. Yep, shock and awe. Shocked that I've been so lackadaisical in my preparation and stewardship. (Sure, I could hold my own, but...) Awestruck that the rest of the nation, especially the powers that be, have done virtually nothing in anticipation of the very real threat of an EMP attack.

This guy's letter sums up about everything I was just about to write. I'm steering anyone who reads my blog over to his, for there's lots of additional content linked from there. Observation: there's a whole industry revolving around survivalists. Who'da'thunk?

I am seeking out an easy on-ramp for those who have zippo in the pantry but know better. I am seeking out the step by step for morons (note, not Mormons, who have always been conservative and prepared). Heck, maybe I'll have to write one. It would include chapters/headings like:

• So, you don't have a budget for Armageddon?
• All good things come to an end--how 'bout this civilization we're experiencing?
• Start with toilet paper...no, maybe a gun...where to begin?
• They might laugh at your stockpile now...

I blame this newly rediscovered enthusiasm on my dad's ghost.

Art and Kids

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”

- Pablo Picasso

Every child's born an artist.

I wish I could nurture this in my children more. We signed on to teach art as an elective through our homeschool group. I dropped the ball.

The cool thing about kids and their art is, early on at least, they've had few influences to tell them their work stinks. There are few critics they will listen to, and thus, they create astounding, interesting, expressive works that leave the rest of us just wondering, scratching our heads.

If I had it to do over again, if we lived in a better world where art curricula are not always being cut, I'd be an art teacher (even though I am not really artistic).

Why? Because I really find my juice in inspiring kids to 'do' art. I wish I could cover every fridge in America with the artwork of children. (There should be a non-profit dedicated to that!)

This weekend--well next week--I'm going to spend quality time with my kids, and we're going to do some art, baby!

19:05:05:21

That's me counting the minutes until grades are due. It's motivational for me to have a countdown clock on my PC, for it helps me pace myself on work. At this rate, I only have to grade 15 essays daily, or roughly read 30,000 words daily.

Today is also 'hump day,' that is, of course, Wednesday.

I never used to keep track of these little milestones. I always thought people who clocked their time or needed hump days and weekends were just....well...sissies.

Now, I am almost as bad as this guy:



I really cannot account for it, this clock watching tendency I now have. I once was a work horse, a workaholic, a great salary man who would give you more than a bang for your buck. Now I do my job to the best of my ability, but I also strive to do my job within reasonable hours.

Some say it's old age, others that it's family. The best answer is probably simple common sense. Why did it take me over 20 years of working to figure it out? Where did my warped work ethic come from? It was not modeled at home.

Anyway, I'm whiling away the hours and whittling my way through the grading, but always with an eye on the prize: freedom. Family. Fun.

Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really even care?

Apathy.

It used to be my arch-nemesis. That meant (though I'd not really thought it through) that I was action. That, in spite of my best intentions, was not always true...but for a decade there, it was the order of the day.

Does anybody really even care?

So, I read roughly 300 journal entries a week, when everyone's up to speed, and I read dozens of blogs and facebook posts...if I were to bundle them all up and strain out the governing concerns I encounter, I'm surprised to find it's largely economic and societal angst. Much of it relates to the future, at a very personal level (will I get the job? will Timmy still love me if I get fat?). A good portion has to do with plans, or a review of entertainments and amusements recently experienced. Some is family-oriented reflection.

Very little of it is congealed around the dynamic of social change. That is to say, in this webbed and interconnected powerhouse of networking ideas, where we can launch flash mobs and invite hoards to bars, very little of the potential of these tools ever comes to good. Sure, in some repressed countries social networking has led to revolutions. Sure, we could watch streaming CNN and hound our congress (if we cared, again). We have opportunity and potential, but we spend our words and time sharing pictures of puppies and babies and talking about our love lives.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. I think this is about the 500th post to this blog, and very little of it is dedicated to anything too profound.

I do have strange encounters with Those Who Should Care Most about the world: parents. These people ought to be up on news, up on the future, up on child rearing. They ought to be into Wow Wow Wubbzy and the Wonder Pets. They should be dedicated to educating their children (or at least reinforcing education).

I will have an encounter in which I get all bug-eyed talking about, say, nutrition, and how we're doomed, damned if we do, damned if we don't....how fighting marketing and HFCS, prepackaging and calories, is a losing battle. I rage against the machine for a while, then the parent shrugs and says, "Well, we came out okay." or "Yeah, but whaddya do?" Then they return to sports or their other regularly scheduled programming.

Parents should care.

Chickens

We're about to take the plunge. We've been reading up on them, asking everyone we encounter, generally learning like mad...

...and now, we're poised to order ours!

I started working on a hen house over spring break, building it (as always) of recycled and reclaimed materials. I think I spent 50 hours online just researching the design ideas for that! Ours is an A-frame design with exterior nesting boxes. The floor is elevated 20 inches off the ground. I am eager to finish construction, but I am still debating where to put it.

Chicken moat--see several previous entries on this. I've wanted to do a chicken moat since the 1980's. The latest hold up has been material costs, but I finally have a good supplier on chicken wire (cheap, used, industrial grade). I finally have a stock pile of utility poles. About all I'm waiting for now is confirmation we can get along w/o a tractor tiller--once the moat is built, it would be hard to get such an implement maneuvered around in the garden.

The chickens--my kids are crazy about chicks at every farm store. I know they grow up (both chicks and kids) but I think there's lots of opportunity there. I want to get the kids excited about some kind of animal husbandry, and chickens seem like a good starter.

We've shopped around locally, combed CraigsList, visited with some who own chickens...and it's always a different story. I think ultimately we'll just get'er done, buy some and start out. If it's a failure, we'll change up.

Last I knew, we were looking at an assortment of 'exotic' chickens to complement more traditional heavy layers.

Regardless, I want chicks on the ground by Easter!

Can't have it both ways...

SO, I'm something of a person of extremes. Oh, I'm open minded about most things, not inclined to polarized rants much....but in lifestyle and pattern, I tend to run hot or cold. I am one to be all out, in deep, 100% into something.

I suppose that sounds good, as if it suggested a degree of focus, a mindset of discipline, a forthrightness that is all-Kansas.

On the other hand, the ugly misshapen hand of truth, here's what happens to me: I get so far to an extreme it's hard to switch it up, to regroup, to reconfigure, to clock out. If, for instance, I were a mercenary, I would not know my bounds, and I might knock some one off in expression of my road rage. If I were a person of the cloth, I would not be able to reach the level of purity and intimacy with my deity that seemed The Right Place to be.

And so it is with work. I can run white hot for work, burning the proverbial candle in a blast furnace frenzy of focused labor. OR, I can be unplugged at home, not even checking email for days at a time, just building stuff, playing with kids, loving home (this extreme has only recently been learned and appreciated, say, in the last 5 years).

Unfortunately, it is VERY HARD for me to switch gears. When the new semester starts, I am now finding myself like a bear coming out of hibernation (at least in the winter) or like one of those groggy people who are just not morning people (I still cannot understand them!). I go through motions, but it takes me days and days to get my game on, to charge up my workforce engines.

And, alas, now that I'm fully engaged, I'm finding it VERY HARD to go home at night. Oh, I know it's where I'd rather be, that all this work is just what I do so that I can have a home and pay the bills....but it's extremely difficult for me to disconnect, to let it go, to leave work at work.

Why is that?
Used to be, I had a job that was something of a calling, a Mission. I was leading people out of apathy, helping to do my little part to save the world through service, to burn as purely altruistic as I could. That job, of course, was impossible to leave at work, for it was a lifestyle.

But now? grading papers and designing course content? I have a hard time pulling back from it, for I know that if I do, it's just going to be that much harder tomorrow to get back up in the saddle again. I will lose hours to ramping up, when I could otherwise just stay at it a few more hours...

...but I'd rather be home (in my heart of hearts) regardless of the lost time and inefficiency of retooling and warming up to it again. The reward of home and hearth and loved ones is much more powerful.

So, I go.

The Guild

I am amused and engaged by a web series, The Guild. I have been rationing my episodes, for there are only 4 seasons of the show available (and it would consume me if I let it, like all my other viewing obsessions kept at bay). As they describe the show: A comedy web series about a group of online gamers, and how they interact online and offline. Winner of they YouTube and Yahoo best web series awards in 2008, winner of three Streamy Awards in 2009. It's a comedy written for gamers, about gamers, by a gamer. Plus it stars Felicia Day, and that alone makes for great screen time.

The show features obsessive gamers who come to interact in RL encounters they sometimes regret. One character in the show haunts me: Clara. This is the SAHM who is more into cyberspace than parenting. Of course, the show's rendition of this is over-the-top, but it resonates with me. Sometimes I may check my email or do some work online when my kids are standing by, impatiently waiting to play, etc. I want to always make flesh and blood priority over ones and zeros. At times it is difficult, for RL encounters are messy and cannot be turned off readily--and that, of course, is the point of The Guild.

Pick this episode up at about 4min in to see Clara interact with her kids:


Give it a view and review it here, too!

Peas in a Pod

My wife and I spent a romantic weekend in a bed and breakfast. For us, it would have been romantic to simply be able to converse uninterrupted (we have 4 kids) and in private (we also have 3 other adults living in our house). We were able to have free-flowing, unobstructed dialogue (the B&B was virtually unplugged, too, a reconstituted 1880's hotel, rooms were sans wifi, TV, etc.) for hours!

A result of all that is not the happy conception of yet another child.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Instead, we were able to compare notes on some life goals, and we were able to learn that we are, even after nearly a decade, both on the same page. In fact, we were very close on our goals, virtually synchronized. We also were able to learn each others priorities anew, too. I, for instance, did not know she still wanted to get a degree; she did not realize how very important it is to me to build onto the house.

People need time and space. Married people need some of that together. We very seldom (quarterly, semi-annually) get time like that. It was the best Valentine's gift EVER.

Day Out, chapter 2

My adventures continued with the rest of the kids. Well, the 18 month old, Ella, just got her day jumbled into a family day out, but it still counted. We went to the Wichita Art Museum for their free Saturday family day, and I must say, it was great. Even if it hadn't been Christmas, there was a lot to do, a lot to see, and we have an open door now for monthly craft project days, etc we did not previously even know about!

Art is so ageless. I do not mean over centuries, but over generations. My mother might make a work of art that her grandchildren might equally appreciate, or create. It was clear to me, again, when the kids made some cool tempera paintings with an emphasis on texture. Art is subjective, to be sure--one man's art is another man's children's doodle. I am proud of the works my kids made last Saturday (they're hanging in the kitchen). Art is also very individually expressive. Though the three boys had the same tools and paint palette, the results were wildly different. Engaging in art is also one of those opportunities for each individual to come out, to come into their own. Eddie, the three year old, really took to the activity like I've seldom seen him do with crafts. It was great.

Speaking of Eddie, his day, the fourth and final in the series, was fun. We opted for Chuckie Cheese to play games, then went to Wichita's only true toy store, Imagine That! That place is awesome, for they encourage kids to play while they are there. Afterwards we went to a fast food Mexican food place. Eddie's day out was fun, for he's really getting more personality and becoming a better communicator, too.

With Ella's day, a new horror presented itself, something I'm not ready to man-up and deal with: a daughter on Daddy Day Out! Yikes. What will I do? How will I cope? I was glad to have the whole family this year, and I do want to become more comfortable with her...but what? how? I fear this, yet she impressed me yesterday by slamming together action figures just like her brothers. She's yet to talk, really, but she does a fierce imitation of expletives sometimes. Maybe being daddy to her won't be that different from being one for the boys.

Day Out with Daddy

Each semester I get a day out with each kid, one-on-one. In December, it's to take each kid Christmas shopping, teaching them thoughtfulness, stewardship, etc...but more importantly to me, just getting a day up close and personal with each one. (I don't know how the Duggers or other zillion kid households do it!)

I am in the middle of Day Out with Daddy week. Two down, two to go.

Day 1, middle child Carson, asked me as soon as we buckled in: "Dad, why do you call Walmart the evil empire?" That led to a long talk and an interesting day of shopping. He decided (at the age of 5) to only go to stores that needed our support, to avoid the mass market. I swallowed hard, for he had a $5 per person budget. Resourcefully, I took him to an antique mall--his first--and he was able to make some very thoughtful and affordable purchases. His most selfish moment of the day was to go to "the cat book store," that being the Book Grinder in El Dorado. He loves cats. I love books. The owner has 4 cats wandering around in there...win-win.

Day 2, eldest child Jaxson, asked me, early on, "Can we go to a museum today?" I'd offered a movie previously, but I knew he was even more passionate about museums. We settled on Exploration Place, after we did our shopping. His shopping was one-stop, rushed, budget-be-damned, for he wanted to get to that museum!

Conversations were very engaging and often very in-depth. Over the course of the two days out we discussed everything from why one's penis might stick to their leg to how come God's so poor his kid had to be born in a barn.

My take-away from the two days so far: I cannot get enough time with these little people. They fascinate me. They grow so fast (yes, recurring theme) and they yearn to know so much. They want, above all, undivided attention. The attention part is something we always accomplish--undivided, well, that's rare.

Even more: I feel for parents once-removed from their kids, whether it's by job, deployment, divorce, incarceration, even by choice...My day out is almost a joke, for I am with my kids lots more than an average parent (especially since we home school and I work odd hours). Parents in any 'real' situation of separation must really ache on these rarely doled out days together, must really try to pack it all in during those hours that pass so very quickly. I would expect the time is more valuable to them than could be measured!

I hope that all such parents and children have a great time of bonding over this holiday and over every hour they are brought together.

I need shock therapy

Why do I have this video here?

I need a shock collar. I need one that is not sensitive to volume or to every utterance, but one that edits my speech. Two years ago I made a new year's resolution to not speak unkindly to my kids, but I failed miserably. The problem has continued to plague me and load my spirit with guilt. It makes me second guess everything I attempt for the good of parenting. I loathe myself when I yell at my kids, yet I do it near every day.

Now, I'm not abusive, in case you wandered onto this blog as a stray who does not know me. I waited 40 years to have a go at child rearing for I know myself to be a hot head and wanted to simmer down some. For the most part, it worked. I've become much more tolerant than I was even 7 years ago, when my little one threw up his weight in baby food all over me in the middle of the night. (Good times).

Still, I think if I were to be able to video tape and review my behavior, I would put my kids up for adoption, hoping they would find a better home. I know I am not alone, I know we all likely do things behind closed doors we would not want broadcast, but I really, really do not like this about myself. It jaundices so many special moments.

Example: I just built some "way cool" bunk beds for my brood. This set is complete with a subterranean chamber. It altogether accommodates all four kids. The cost? absolutely nothing. I used materials I had on the farm. They love it. They were all four romping all over it before it was even done, as I was working on it, and yes, I barked at them. They were jumping from one level to another, hitting their heads on the ceiling, generally threatening the collapse of the universe--and I yelled. At lights out, they were bickering over who gets what bunk--and I think I might even have cursed. Way cool bed = evil dad yelling memories.

So, if I have to, I'm getting a shock collar. I AM going to overcome this, just like I did smoking, sleeping too much, etc. I AM going to learn some strategies for coping with spontaneous combustion. I WILL get this under control. Maybe I need a shock collar on a more sensitive part of my anatomy? Maybe I need that video tape surveillance camera running 24/7--reviewing a few days of that would surely break me?

Meanwhile, on a lighter note: http://www.spike.com/video/doritos-shock-collar/3334609">

Art

The pictures above are two self-portraitures constructed by my middle son. He, like me, can find art in anything. I can hardly wait to take him to an art museum.

The eldest can tell stories until you fall asleep. (Yes, you is here a ganeralization, for I've yet to find anyone, gentle reader, that he cannot overcome with his words...even you.) His medium is words.

The youngest boy is coming into his own. He is the most emotional, from random hugs to Irish smackdowns. He's not really too into art or expression outside of the physical.

The 'baby' girl is violent when mad, heart-melting when affectionate...much like her brother. Who knows how she will come to express herself artistically--but I hope she is not programmed by commerce to only work in shades of pink, to only color princesses and care bears.

Every kid has his/her own strengths and values. I find it interesting that "art" comes to them early, and from what I can tell, about the same time as language. That may not be true, for I have seen some dynamic finger painting from kids under 2, but it seems the knowing it as "art" or the ability to share the nature of it as an artistic work might somehow depend upon language, both acquisition and expression.

X Posting to Family blog

I don't have much to share here that's not better said here.

I don't elaborate on family much, but my wife has taken on an ambitious project of taking a photo a day and writing about it. Sure, she falls a week or two behind on posting them, but she's been very faithful about taking them and writing about them. (Part of the posting problem is due to our pokey bandwith at home.)

That site she's created is a true treasure that shares some keen insight into what makes our lives great right now. Whenever I get down, whenever I miss home, or for that matter...whenever she posts something new, I go there!

You should too.

This blows!

Parents do the strangest things to their children. Watch any episode of AFV on ABC to confirm this.

There I was in Exploration Place, lugging around my daughter, when I saw an exhibit that used forced air [ten times as powerful as a blow drier] to demonstrate the Bernoulli principle (usually a beach ball is spinning in mid-air over this). It seemed like a good idea to put my darling daughter over the fan.

My wife was worried. My boys thought I was nuts....but young Ella thought it was about as cool as I did.

If nothing else, it made for a funny photo.

The un-summer

This summer has seemed to be lackluster. There have been no exotic family trips (though I did go to NYC, it was not the same and not w/family). No kids were born (though Ella did celebrate her first birthday). We've had no major construction projects, where in past years it was remodeling the house, building the carport, etc. I have, of course been working on the pirate ship steadily, I guess, but that is not yet a milestone project.

I should not belly ache. My best friends are in more complicated straits:

• wife battling and recovering from cancer
• being deported to Afghanistan
• enduring a liver transplant

...while I am just boo-hooing being bored and overworked.

Nonetheless, things have seemed humdrum. Yes, I taught 3 extra summer sections. Yes, I've kept the farm mowed and maintained. Yes, I've been home most of the time for people. Yes, I have my health.

I just feel like 1/2 a guy, like I'm running on battery backup and not full-charge. I look around at all that I've not done, all that I'm not doing, and I get more and more undone. I think of how I longed for summer, but that now that it's waning, I'm realizing (as I do with every season and semester change, everyone's birthday, every turn of the calendar) the moment is passing.

Summer....it escapes me.