Resolved

Resolutions are made to be broken, they say, but here are a few of mine for 2011, the last year we have to share before the world ends...

go to the Y regularly and get fit; already have appts with personal trainer, enrolling family in classes, aiming myself at swimming lessons and lap pool participation (going to join the 100 mile club)

get over apnea, the sleeping killer; I have this in aces, and the doctor and diagnostic guy said mine was severe...supposedly it's affecting my energy, concentration, and about everything else about my life (my salary?)

be a better...husband, father, teacher, farmer, steward...just be better (continuous and never-ending improvement)

recycle, for we currently put four 30 gallon trash barrels in the landfill weekly around here!

attempt to write for publication, maybe for profit--how many decades has this been on my list? now the 8 of you following me can kick me in the pants now and then

read with intention--I read a lot, about a novel a week, but it's just candy. I need to read classics again, or at least literary magazines. I'm not sure about the quantity or objective just now, but it's something on my list.

parent better--I've improved my percentage in the homeschooling of my kids, but I need to do other parenting more purposefully, too

There are many more, many unpublishables, too....maybe I'll share as I go, but I wanted to plant this flag for the new year.

Happy new year to you all!

Admiration for Education

I admire teachers of elementary school kids so much. As I continue to help with the home schooling, I've been attempting to teach my kid how to say his R's cowectly. It's hard going. We've been recalling words with R, and we've been saying them back and forth to one another. rabbit, rhino, roll, rat, race...

When his come out like a W, then I have him look at my mouth and say it like me.


Funny thing is, now he says his R's like a pirate or a stroke victim, pronouncing it from the side of his mouth. I've been told I smile crookedly, too.

He's in kindergarten, but he's learning amazing things, like rivers in India (Ganges) and all about the Taj Mahal. This is all courtesy of his homeschool curriculum from K-12, an excellent course of study that we are enrolled in through Lawrence Virtual Schools. They provide everything, down to a script, every book and resource tool, online lessons, video, music, etc...

...even with all that, I am awestruck at what 'real' teachers accomplish in elementary schools. I wonder how I ever caught on when I was a kid in a sea of others.

I could never teach elementary school, for I lack the patience.

I will work with my kids, however, from dawn to dusk.

Our house, is a very, very, very fine house...

What's being said/done around my house on Christmas eve morning....some quotes:

The way we take care of our temper is we butt heads.

I'll give anyone who finds my shoes a quarter!

I really like cookies and I wanna can of pop.

I want to open my presents in the morning--today morning--but mom won't
let me.

I would have ripped off his arms for a quarter.

Meanwhile...
Ella (18 months) is wandering around using the electric toothbrush on everything, just to feel the vibration...in the chair, on the wall, on the dog...

TRON

So many negative reviews--and they're all wrong.

I watched Tron Legacy last night and was transfixed from beginning to end. Yes, it was mostly eye candy that mesmerized me, but hey, that's why I went to see it in 3D on an IMAX screen (purportedly the biggest in the USA).

The theatre was sold out, as it has been for every showing since it opened last week. The theatre seems huge, and there were 3 in my party, walking in at 7, showtime, just before the previews rolled. We found two chairs and an ample hole by the wall, just right for us. Sitting by the wall usually spells doom for movie viewing, but in this case, due to the screen, 3D, etc...it was almost as good as sitting dead center. An added value, according to my son, was the wall vibrating and rumbling with the absolutely excellent sound.

Bill Warren himself (whom I have trouble with, personally, for charging too damn much for kids and otherwise seeming like a greedy movie mogul)...but nonetheless, he, himself gave us a little pep talk before the show--which was kinda cool.

The film itself is a visual and auditory feast. The story line is adequately engaging, especially for those of us who remember something of the original film. I'm sure it's even more valuable for those computer geeks out there who know the ins/outs of users and programs, etc. much more intimately than I do.

At any rate, it was a very groovy experience. I look at it as a trial run for the film I really want to see in that environment (though it's not been confirmed: Avatar 2 in 3D Imax). For that matter, I'd like to see Inception in there, maybe...or about a dozen other movies.

Movies are my weakness. Good thing I'm poor.

It was especially fun taking a friend along who has not been to a theatre in a couple of years, who has never seen a 3D film, and could not remember an Imax event. For him, it was culture shock, and a very good ride.

My 8 year old has yet to quit babbling about it. He was blown away!

Go see it before listening to the naysayers.

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.

Be Good

At the risk of running into the wall of a qualified statement, of employing added-value, jaundiced, or otherwise power-packed language, I am going to offer a simple, yet very hard to practice, principle:

E.T. said it best, "Be Good."



I spent a dozen years trying to live up to that simple command. Always, I was nagged in the back of my mind by a little (wicked) voice that would remind me, "You've got more to give. You can be better than you are being right now." I was obsessed with do-good-ness. I was working so very hard to build an empire of altruism, when in fact, I was consumed with my own limitations.

2002: Though I tried to be good, I was never able to live up to my own standards. Though I fielded thousands of others toward being good (service, service-learning, volunteering, etc) and spoke at conferences motivating others to get on the band wagon, there were always others I was not reaching, others who were (as I saw it then) swamped in apathy. Though I gave away most of my income, lived like a pauper, and lived my life's work, I was destitute and empty on the inside too much of the time. Why? because I took being good to an extreme. I went right on past being good (and even great) to being perfect--well, I failed at that, of course, but it was my interpretation of good.

1982: I had a similar problem when I was involved in a faith that had a maxim I grabbed 'hold of: be holy, as I am holy. 1 Peter 1:15-16. Well, that's some pretty big shoes to fit into, a big halo to be fitted for...and again, in that endeavor, I failed miserably. Though I had read the bible from cover to cover three times (yes, wading through all the begats and begottens, by-golly!), I was still not holy. Though I had one of the higher rack of numbers per week on witnessing and conversions (yes, they kept stats on that), I was not holy enough. Though I was memorizing scripture at the sacrifice of my academics, I just could not get it right--enough.

Well, I share all this to say only that one should not be so hard on themselves. Now that I'm an old man, I have a different perspective than when I was a young whipper-snapper. I no longer look at the world from such extreme perspectives, and I'm much less harsh on myself. (Some regular readers might argue this.)

I aspire to be holy, and I aspire to be good. To 'aspire' does not mean simply to wish for it, either. I am practicing my faith and values, and yet I'm not beating myself up too much when I'm less than expected. I write this, at any rate, and I try to believe this, too. Like Stuart Smalley, I just have to live by the mantra, "I'm good enough. I'm smart enough...and dog-gone-it, people like me."

It's WHAT?

Yep, it's December 7th alrighty.

How is it possible that it's FINALS WEEK?

I have these feelings sometimes about this time of year. (Honestly, I have them all year 'round, the older I get.)

I am astonished.

Now, do not confuse astonishment with amazement. I've written about amazement before...For that matter, I've previously written about how good it is to marvel, how one should live in the now, about how attending too much to the past or future is not valuable--but the truth is, sometimes all that is window-dressing, whitewashing, or otherwise hogwash. (Who knew such potential in cleansing compounding words?)

Sometimes, when I really admit it, I think I'm living in Oblivion. Yes, I felt like that when I lived in Western Kansas, but that was physical and literal...now I'm talking cerebral.

Astonished oblivion is not bliss. I wish it were, for it would then be easier to say, "mission accomplished." Bliss, after all, is on my bucket list...if it could be. Some theorize that bliss is a state of being, not a destination nor some thing one could ever cross off of a bucket list.

So here I am, dumbfounded at the date.

Where did the time go? I wish I still had my watch that chimed every quarter hour. I wish I lived and worked in places that only told time with large grandfather clocks--no, loud cuckoo clocks. Outside, every major gathering of buildings should have a bell tower with the most cacophonous carillon, and from that should burst the boldest acknowledgment of time passing, at least every fifteen minutes. No, make the carillon a klaxon, and mount it to my head.

In short, I wish I could be made more aware, constantly, of the passing of time.

Perhaps instead of cleaving to amazement, I should instead be aspiring toward awareness.

I am most alarmed by all this when I look at pictures, even ones from the recent past. I am sometimes shocked at my own work, only a semester old or less--I surprise myself that I wrote this or I did that. (Ever read Flowers for Algernon...similarly, I feel like I'm slowly realizing my own retreat to senility.) Even worse than the 'typical man' who might casually (strategically?) forget (plausible deniability?) he said or did something, I seem to be fading. It annoys my wife. It frustrates my children. It surprises me.

Maybe I'm making too much of it. After all, this is Finals week, the time when I have hundreds of papers to grade and take the responsibilities of my job far too seriously. I sleep less, I worry more, and I grade most of all. Grading papers, as anyone who does too much of it can attest, can dull one's wits. I am also prone to sentimentality at this time of year (Finals, yes, but doubly so, the holidays). In repressing sentiment, yes, even when grading, I think perhaps I repress what's left of my wit and wisdom as well.

Why else, I am realizing as I am typing this, would I have shared so?

Internet InterFACE

Can going to a web site keep a kid in school?
That was the issue raised at yesterday's planning session for our new portal.

Studies show that students who make a friend or two, who meet and get to know at least one faculty or staff member, and who participate in an extra curricular event tend to stay in school and get more out of school than others. This is a discussion of engagement and social intimacy as it relates to retention. I am not convinced that "social distance" can be equated to hits on a web site. I would need to see evidence, correlations between frequency of visits to the campus pages and retention/engagement records. The theory, at least, is that the digital activity one logs might parallel getting to know teachers, peers, and going to events. As more people have more active social network life, it only stands as reasonable that we might build our digital presence with intention, making it more engaging.

From my perspective, "more engaging" means, essentially, more like Facebook. That means, our college web site needs to have an element of community (like IM/chat features, bulletin boards, public areas) and it needs to be somewhat narcissistic, too, perhaps encouraging interaction, status statements, photos, etc. (The very NAME of Facebook emphasizes the importance of the photo.)

If mañana never comes...

I've not actually written anything since last month!

It's been very busy my academic world, tooling up for the End Times. In my case, that means the grueling end of the term, when no amount of procrastination will be tolerated. There is no mañana. One must seize the day by both horns and bend the will of Atlas toward the keyboard and--grade. On a bright note, I've broken the 200 essay barrier, but that means I've only 12 days to read and grade the other 190 I have in my hopper. I do not like the 15 hr days, but these, too, shall come to pass.

To pace myself, I did not even come to work today until almost sunrise. It was the first sunrise I have seen this fall, I recollect.

The End Times remind me to remind myself here: nothing is worth this. It would be better to sacrifice a little quality in favor of a more reasonable resolution to the semester. Don't dote, don't daudle, and don't do tomorrow what you can do today!

I am looking to the greener grass of summer...on the other side...

WakeUpWalMart.com: Video

WakeUpWalMart.com: Video
This video, among many others, tells it like it is. I think I might spend the whole month on a rant against the Evil Empire and corporate commercialism, over-consumption, and the like. Feed the Greed!

That's Not Turkey! 4 - Worth1000 Contests

That's Not Turkey! 4 - Worth1000 Contests

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.

What makes us miss? and who? and why?

It's been said that of mammals, only humans have much sense of meta cognition, of actual memories, of reflection. Sometimes I wish I did not. There are days when I am so very reflective it's hard to find my way forward. For me, memories are brought to the foreground by many stimuli, but predominantly by music and images.

Today, it seems, I'm really suffering from missing folks.

I really miss my dad every November, for he died at Thanksgiving, 2003. I'd just seen him in October, for a funeral and then a good sit down (just the two of us) in his home office which he was so proud of. I miss him whenever I hear classic country music, like from Wichita's 92.3 (check the current playlist) and sometimes I just have to change stations, it's so overwhelming.

I miss my best buddy, Danny, all the time, but particularly whenever I smell beer or am reminded of Hays, Kansas; bowling, cantaloupes, or Steely Dan's song, FM.


(This song should be played while my blog is read.) My best buddy for life, since kindergarten (yes, they had that back when I was young). Danny's a busy guy these days, but I really should just saddle up and go visit him.

I miss my bestest littlest brother, Kyle, who is deployed to Afghanistan these days. I especially miss him whenever I see a squirt gun, for the memory that stands out is one in which he's having a big shoot out with my kids, and he's holding a squirt gun to a kitten's head, using that cat as leverage. (It's especially funny, for Kyle loves animals like no one else; the irony here--gets me every time. No kittens were harmed in the making of the water gun fight.)



Whenever I smell patchouli I miss my pal, Travis. He's a vagabond in the finest sense of the word, a world traveler who hitch-hikes just because he can. In that video, he dwells on the essence of hitch-hiking: "It pushes the edges of what I am as a human, and it strengthens my faith in god...Spirit seems to dwell heavily 3 feet away from a 70 mph-moving semi-truck." We were very fortunate to see him one afternoon this last summer. Such a rich life.

As a finite being, I often dwell on my own passing. It seems this semester I've really wrestled with my mortality, seeing the long view. I've had a rich life, a long life by some standards. Lately it seems, for no particular reason, like it's about over, and so I've been trying to get my life in order. I think it's a good way to live anyway, but it's really been a powerful preoccupation lately. I want to get things done, I want to tidy things up, and I want all my loose ends tied, right down to the paper work. One of my colleagues has her lesson plans ready and on her desk daily for the next day, just in case. I want to be that proactive. Another has his will, living will, funeral arrangements, etc. all in place for his survivors. That's how any thoughtful person should prepare, but I have none of that in place (at least my organ donation is in order, I guess).

Told'ya so!

I've been fortunate to surf some respectable futurists' sites, camp on some great technology links, and generally be informed of what's coming down the pike.

TSA AIT: Neked before the full-body scanners...I told'ya so!
Back in November of 2008, I was well aware of the whole scanning issue, but at that time no one wanted to throw down on it. At that time, my thinking was that the technology was invasive, that I was more conservative than I thought of my self previously.

Today, after hearing and reading too much about this whole thing, I've reached a new stand...

In Israel they do not have expensive hardware and high tech devices to check people out, they do it the old fashioned way--interrogation. Of course, civil libertarians have issues with racial profiling and facial recognition software that altogether seem to be targeting some people over others (the Israelis do not interrogate everyone thoroughly, only those who reveal "tells" in initial questioning). In many ways, I'm all for this. Ask away. If a would-be passenger has something to hide, has some reason to feel picked on or targeted, then they need a good talking to. My parents wouldn't let me go out with strangers until they had thoroughly vetted them.

On the other hand, since we have the technology, why not use it? TSA Advanced Imaging Technology works, and it's ready to run in over 450 applications. Fire them up. I have nothing to hide.

Boys and girls, this is nothing new! Behold, a clip from Total Recall, circa 1990, twenty years ago!




I think Americans are pretty prudish when it comes to nudity, whether it is in film or on a TSA AIT. What difference does it make--really? We're all just mammals, and we all have our shortcomings or bumps, ripples, or ridges that we generally hide under flattering clothing. Truth is, our raiment is irrelevant to who we really are.

So, snap my nads, scan my junk, shoot my noodle...I do not care. Put the images up on the web, big deal. Is it an invasion of privacy? Maybe. Does it make any difference? No...I can hear my dad's voice, however, forewarning, "Once they get away with that [fill in the blank], it's only a matter of time until..." and somewhere in the back of my mind, even though I have this carefree attitude toward nudity, I know he's got a point there. What's next?

While I'm in a Told'ya So Mood, I'll tell you what's next, or coming soon...

We already have neuro-marketing rearing its enterprising head, a sleeping giant of manipulation that will be able to push our buttons at a biological level we cannot resist. We already have forfeit our whereabouts, entirely, via GPS chips in cell phones. We have already given away our most intimate information on Facebook and blogs, Twitter and other online media. All this transparency and vulnerability will no doubt produce some tremendous backlash. We will be such easily controlled sheep, in the future.

Of course, as that evolves, I won't be able to tell you so, for I'll be among those led around by the nose. *sigh* You readers won't realize the control, either, in much the same way we fail to reckon with the power of the media and Patriot Act, today. *sigh*

So, what the hell...drop your trousers with me on National Opt-Out Day, November 24th. 'Might as well have some fun.

Language

Fun where you find it

I was stoked, steamed actually, to attend the Emerald City Steampunk Expo. I'd been looking forward to it for weeks. Unfortunately, work and money did not favor my idea of fun.

So, when I went home, I had a chip on my shoulder. I was greeted at the door by my kids and my beagle, which was heartwarming, sure, but I was really gruff with the missus. I was exceptionally grumpy, so I did what I always used to do when I was a difficult teen: I set something on fire.

It needed done because the trash pickup didn't happen this week. We had 120 gallons of trash and another 100 gal. to come this week with no where to go--so it was worthwhile on that practical note.

Even more, added value, I was soon to discover, was that the contagion of fire-tending was more amusing to my kids than a trip to Disneyland. The four of us had a blast burning trash for hours. Even papa joined in. I was able to teach the boys about how fire spreads, how it can be suffocated, how a can of pop, never opened, will open itself when it gets hot enough to blow.

No, not environmentally friendly. No, not something I'd do every day or suggest in particular to anyone else...but for me and my house, at that moment, it was practical, affordable, educational, and...almost fun.

Then, the next day I was trying (again) to get my old Farmall tractor started. I've now invested about 5 hours in the effort, and I'm getting angry. The boys all three spent time on the tractor and pickup, treating them like a jungle gym. They'd come and go, visit with me, ask a few questions, then go play on hay bales (today, a ship crossing to Narnia). They'd stop by once in a while to ask me what this lever did or why that thingy shot sparks. They were impatient, not understanding why daddy couldn't just fire it up and give them a hay rack ride. Neither could I. I found myself getting gruff, curt, and, okay, likely downright rude. I've skinned knuckles. I've spent too much time on something that should be so damn easy. I'm just about to the tool throwing, foot stamping part of my version of mechanics when I hear a high squealing giggle.

I leave the pickup 'jump-cabled' to the tractor to charge the battery a bit (I know, not effective) and I follow the laughter.

My boys are in the pig pen.

You'd think it was the big birthday party game extravaganza all over again, just by the noise and commotion. The two boys were running from the two little pigs, then alternately chasing the pigs. Carson, in a moment of bravery, straddled one pig in hope of riding it, but he was bucked off. All of us were laughing like we'd not laughed in weeks (and we laugh a lot). I laughed like a chain smoker. I laughed like I was stoned. I laughed 'til I cried, coughed, ultimately got hiccups from laughing!

Of course, you had to be there, to see the abject terror on the kids' faces when being pursued. You had to be there to see one of them squealing and squirming when he fell and the pigs nuzzled all over him, tickling him. You had to be there to see that 1-second pig ride that will never make it to a rodeo.

And I was there.

And I had fun.

And that's the moral of this story. Whether it's burning trash or watching a pig rodeo, fun is to be had. I had fun because I was there to share those priceless, silly, seemingly-insignificant moments with my boys.

No, I didn't get to go to the Expo, or a movie, or even on a date with my wife. I don't have money to even rent a movie right now, but that's okay. We watch old VHS Disney movies in the basement. We wrestle during the boring scenes and break for snacks now and again.

In ways, we don't have much, but in ways that matter, we've got it all.

Damsels...at Emerald City Steampunk Expo

"I kissed a Nerd" great tune. Also "Mysfit Toys" dance group. Also....well, just check out their site. I'll be there, likely in costume, even if my wife is embarrassed.

Knights and Daze

Party 'til you're pooped. (In some cases, yesterday, with as many toddlers as we had at the party, this was likely true. More than one kid waddled off with a load in his britches.)

I'd safely say we were all pretty exhausted after the 8th celebration of my eldest son's date of birth. We had 50 guests, 2 hrs of games, an exotic cake that was a true work of art, and I would offer, an overall great time. I was happy some of my best buddies were there, too, for we were able to talk shop over the ship among other things.

The theme was medieval. We had jousting, bridge sieges, a castle, a quest, dragons to battle, a cake decorated like an elaborate castle...altogether themed out and good times. I hope he will always remember it, and I hope the kids there had fun.

Jax received so very many nice, nice gifts. It was an incredible outpouring of generosity (even though we requested no presents, it was nice of you all). One neat idea came up, that we might offer in next year's invite that if anyone wished to bring a gift, that's welcome, but we're going to donate them to a children's home, etc.

It was a great day, as mentioned above...but it's also marking a very sad (in ways) date for me, as my little boy just keeps edging toward becoming a little man. He's only 8, my wife reminds me, but he seems to be 18 sometimes, and I just don't want to miss a thing.

That desire to capture it all, to experience everything, and to miss nothing--well, it's creating a big grudge against work. I like my job, but any job that separates me from family is just not good. If only some college or university could afford me full-time online! Someday, sooner every year I know, some school will pick me up. More and more academic work is conducted online, and I've been at it since 1990's somewhere...so maybe I'll be a viable candidate.

Meanwhile I just enjoy the hours I do have at home, and pack as much into the moments as they can handle. Sure it leaves me tuckered out, but it is a good feeling.