Searching For Something Vague (At Least In The Title, To Attempt To Interest You Into Reading To Discover What The Something Vague Is)

Most people have them, many have multiple, one is never enough, yet fifteen seems like too many.Not talking about tattoos here (bad enough I have to pay for shots which hurt, why pay for extended needle pains that contain images that will haunt me in my sixties), or piercings, or cars, or snack foods, or fleas and head lice. I'm talking about hobbies. I've been searching for years for a hobby. I've started down the path towards different hobbies, but inevitably I don't commit to it and give up. Alec Baldwin had a cool and unique hobby in 30 Rock, it was hilarious and gave me an idea, but I couldn't commit to collecting cookie jars like him as I'm more interested in what is meant to be in the cookie jar. Actually there isn't much I do commit to outside of God, family and ministry.

Hobbies I guess can range from skills, to activities and sports, and collections. There may be more, I'm no expert. My dad is a gifted brass musician who tried to pass on his gift to me. From fifth grade when I carried a 30 year old horn to school in a suitcase because we had no case, an all through high school I played the euphonium and trombone, trying my best to be a band geek. No matter how much I worked and practiced, I was never more than a mediocre player. I gave up after I finished training school when I was booted off my instrument of thirteen years to play Tuba (a great fat guy stereotype, as mentioned by Terence Howard in Mr. Holland's Opus) so that a flutist could play euphonium in my place. This is not to offend my flutist friend, who is a very dear friend, but sitting in my shoes....I was pretty depressed about it. That was the end of my band geek phase.

At our divisional congress this year I was told to play in the band with most of the Divisional Commanders (bosses) from around the western U.S. This confirmed my lost band geekiness, as I was terrible and I knew it and for some reason playing didn't excite me like it used to. There went that hobby, though I did enjoy band in seminary as it was a fun time of venting and jokes and probably some of the best fellowship I've ever experienced in a small group (plus I had and have a lot of respect for that teacher, as his actions in and outside of class were always the same). So, I truly am a reformed band geek.

I wanted to play piano, and learned a bit, but haven't committed to it and usually end up just messing around doing impressions of great players. I do these impressions so often at a keyboard that now, no joke, my son has picked up my Ray Charles impression and does it ALL THE TIME, in fact he does it at grocery stores for reasons I can only guess are to flirt with the ladies. I have a guitar and lots of accessories and keep saying I'll learn, but on my day off I'm here typing instead of stringing and learning so I guess that hasn't panned out too much, but I do hope it will.

I am currently wearing a T-shirt with the Dutch word for father on it. Impressed by my bi-lingual abilities? I just happen to know that Vader means Father so I am wearing a Star Wars T-shirt. For years I tried that as my hobby. I love the movies, watch them constantly, kick butt at Star Wars trivia games (except with questions regarding the names of the Imperial Officers, they all die anyway so who needs to remember Piett, Jerjerrod, Tarkin, Needa, Veers and Ozzel or what they like). However, Veers was also Donovan, the bad guy in The Last Crusade who ended up a skeleton who disintegrated, so I tend to remember him.

I collected all the toys throughout most of my childhood. That is until I was about fifteen or sixteen and had my own job and car and my parents said they wouldn't buy them for me any more. Turns out those darn pieces of plastic are expensive and not conducive to collecting on a limited pocketbook. I don't know how my parents afforded it, other than I think my dad may have sold his kidney on the black market while we lived in L.A. I still have them and recently tried to sell them on E-Bay with no results. So, when he's old enough to decide whether he wants to play with them or keep them until they are worth something since they are all still wrapped, my son will receive my Star Wars toys. There went that hobby.Sports! Baseball is fun, when you're swinging. But if you don't hit hard enough, you have to run, and that gets you dirty and/or causes perspiration-who wants that. Hockey is fun to watch and I think would be fun to play-but I can't skate and am terribly afraid of breaking my coccyx. Football is just plain boring to me, seriously. Football and wrestling looks like an excuse for men to hug without feeling less manly about it. Then there's soccer, where you kick a ball while running, not fun plus I feel the likelihood of getting kicked in a sport all about kicking is very rampant. Also, I'm too tall AND too short to be a good basketball player.

I do have some favorite sports teams. However this is mostly for conversation's sake because every man I know at least has a couple of favorite teams in some kind of sport. So my favorite baseball teams are the San Diego Padres because my dad's family is from San Diego and I just happen to love San Diego and the Seattle Mariners because Seattle is the closest city to my home (Alaska) to have a baseball team. My favorite hockey teams are the Ducks because I love the color orange and I like Disney and have always loved the Mighty Ducks movies and think that the hockey team was a great way of doing some not so subtle advertising (I'm surprised there weren't any hidden mickeys in the arena like at Disneyland) and the Canucks because like Seattle, Vancouver is the closest city to my home to have a professional hockey team (the Aces don't count, no matter what you say). I do like the Sharks too because they have a cool logo and cool color combinations. Obviously, sports are not me.

Movies are a pretty good hobby I have. There are many movie references in my every day lingo, in Haines it confuses people a lot but hey its who I am. I could spend all day watching movies, but over the past few years when I do that I feel as if I lost a day just to watch Alicia Silverstone mispronounce Haitian and face off against Mystery Inc and kick box with Uma Thurman and creep me out by stalking Mr. Robin Hood men in tights himself. Seriously, if you're snowed in, you might want to try doing a movie marathon of watching all the movies you have with a certain actor in it. But if you do a Paul Rudd marathon you have to devote a couple of days because that guy is in a lot of movies. So, I've laid off a bit. Well, as much as I can considering that we don't have cable at our house.

I love video games. The Nintendo Wii has provided me with ample new gaming experiences since I bought it. I can play guitar with Aerosmith or battle with a guitar player Rage Against the Machine whom I don't know. I can swing a wand with the best of them while saying expelliarmus even if the game can't hear me. But my real love is for the lego games. Lego Batman, Lego Star Wars, Lego Indy, and the top of my Christmas wish list, Lego Harry Potter. I've been playing Lego Batman almost exclusively for a year and a half now. I think during vacation I will be able to finish the game completely, because I just have to see the progress bar say 100% completed. Then I will obsessively move on to Indy. But, I can only play for a few hours at a time as I find myself aging because apparently I don't blink and my eyes get super red and painful making it hard for me to sleep. I'm hoping to play tonight when the kids are asleep so I'm writing now, since I haven't played video games for about three weeks. With long spurts of time without playing, I don't think I can call myself a true video game hobbyist.

I started a lightsaber collection, but I had to stop because its expensive and what the heck am I going to do with a bunch of plastic swords that light up and say buzz. I did use them as flashlights in seminary to light my path and also enable me to pretend to be a jedi as I battled away the raccoons.

Though, now, I think I have found my hobby. It is a collecting hobby. I collect creative Potato Heads. It started with Darth Tater, and went down on to Luke Frywalker, Princess Tater, Yam Solo, R2 Pota-two, Darth Spud, Spuda Fett, Spud Trooper, Indiana Spud, Spida Spud, Optimash Prime and Bumble Spud. It is an extensive and cool collection and I care very deeply about it. Three of them are in my office at work and the others adorn the mantle place in our house (you know where most people keep expensive stuff). I never realized how important they were to me, or that they were truly my hobby until today when my wife dusted them and I wanted to be right behind her making sure that she didn't knock them over or move their limbs while she took the thin layer of dust off of them. It may seem a little bit obsessive, but hey at least I have a hobby now.

BLT says.......So many people collect stamps or baseball cards or coins, hobbies should be more unique. I mean, do you know anybody else who collects plastic potatoes?

A New Morning Buzz

What in the world caused the coffee addiction? Anybody who knows me has been aware of my distaste for the drink. It's bitter! It's basically drinking dirt (can you believe Starbucks makes all that money from selling grounded dirt) and that's what it tastes like unless you put it a lot of creamer, even more sugar, and a good pile of whip cream.

Yet for a month I drank 2 cups every morning, and usually another two at some point during the day. After 26 years of no coffee, that was a lot of coffee all at once in a very short amount of time. There were days when I wasn't able to sit still like when George of the Jungle eats a mound of it in the movie of his namesake.My son thought it hilarious because his daddy was acting like him with constant movement (although his short attention span is apparently natural for a toddler) and my wife thought that I was jumpy and was concerned she may have to try and exorcise me.

Then one day I ran out of cool whip and creamer and tried the dark stuff without any taste alterations other than sugar, and yuck. I realized it was time to put it away and leave it alone, that I was more than likely only drinking it to satisfy my strange craving for cool whip (2 containers a week, no kidding). Guess what happened? I could sit still, the world slowed down, and I could no longer actually hear my heart beating faster than the beat in a Relient K song.However, since my kids still prevent my wife and I from getting a full night's sleep, I've been looking for a tasty way to get my morning buzz, my caffeine jump start so I can be alive, awake, alert and partially enthusiastic. I feel I have to have that buzz otherwise when people see me the first thing they say is "Are you alright, you don't look well?" Don't you love it when people point out to you what you already know? I have a mirror, and I use it every now and then (like when my hair gets slightly lengthy, as in I need to use a comb and a mirror to maintain my partially good looking somewhat manly physique), I know what I look like.

So I went to my old fall back. Tea. I embraced my British background and tried some Earl Grey with some lemon and a bit of sugar. Not sure if Gram drank it but if she didn't, Jean Luc Picard did and he was quite a successful captain of the star ship Enterprise in a much better Star Trek show than its predecessor. But, for some reason it didn't make much sense to replace drinking grounded dirt water with dirt and leaves flavored water. Had to put an x on that idea, I have principles after all and tea doesn't taste that great without flavor additives either.

I dislike orange juice, I can't afford energy drinks and I don't think my heart could survive prolonged exposure to them anyway. I had a friend in school who drank probably three or more Monster drinks a day. Every now and then he passed one on to me in the morning and I would drink it and have insomnia which forced me to turn the TV up louder to drown out the crazy caffeine induced voices in my head. That only lasted until the TV woke up my wife who was confused why I'd be watching the Back to the Future trilogy all night long on a school night and after explaining the evil energy drink would compassionately say "Turn down the TV, I didn't drink it so I shouldn't get punished for it." Inevitably the voices came back when the TV was turned down, so at least I wasn't lonely.

So that leaves milk or water or crystal light to help me get motivated to get up and at 'em each morning. I know I should drink water, and I do every day with the multi-vitamins my wife MAKES me take. Seriously, I don't see the need for swallowing fish oil, no matter what people say. But, really, I don't really like to drink water, I compare it to eating a plain burger with no cheese or anything else in or on it, it just plain and boring and tasteless. Milk I use with my daily cereal and crystal light is also really expensive and doesn't taste good hot. Then there's cocoa, which is best prepared with marshmallows and whip cream, and I'm avoiding whip cream as I've heard the best way to break an addiction is to avoid it. So no cocoa.

Basically, I haven't found a way to get my morning buzz. I've been telling my wife about it and about my need for one and my attempts to locate one, and I asked her for help. Lately we've both been racking our brains for an answer, because buzzes are a necessity until our kids go to bed on time and always sleep through the night waking up after six in the morning.

I think my son heard me mention my need for a new morning buzz to get going. As he often does, my son came in this morning to crawl into bed and tell us that he's awake and he would kindly like it if we would get up with him. But this morning he did something a bit unusual. Instead of bringing his blanky and teddy in with him and waking up with a teddy bear being shoved in my face with my son asking me to kiss it I awoke to a different sound. "Halt, I order you to halt! I have a laser and I will use it, whirr whirr (that's a laser sound)! Silence agent of Zurg!" My son traded in his cute and quiet teddy bear for his talking, loud plastic Buzz Lightyear doll and was making him talk to me to get me to wake up. Not much makes get up and out of bed faster than Buzz and Woody talking loudly to each other at 6:15in the morning while Buzz pokes me like the Pillsbury Dough Boy and Woody keeps probing my nose. Good news is, I think I've found my new morning Buzz. The downside.....plastic fingers shoved up my nose isn't all that pleasant.BLT says......apparently you can get a good morning buzz without drinking dirt or eating copious amounts of cool whip........but do you want to?

Call Me Paranoid......But.....

Call me paranoid, but if people really are out to get you, is it really paranoia?

First off, my sincerest apologies for not writing for a little while. I know you don't actually care too much since I'm more than likely wasting your time by asking you to read this and you've been thinking since Saturday, "Wow, I have an extra 10-30(depending on how fast you read, I'm a slow reader) minutes today, I wonder why." I was having an argument with blogspot over what my password was and obviously they won because I couldn't log in until now, boy do I dislike being wrong. I have a password question to help me remember but I forgot the answer (which is what you get for putting a very hard Star Wars question as your remember password prompt, I stumped myself) until tonight. Even if I had my password, I've been going to bed early this week because people are out to get me and I figure an early bed time will keep my sanity. When I say early, I mean early. Last night as we went to bed, Lisa asked, "How old are we?" To which I answered (the way I always do) "Well, you're almost 27 and I'm 26 and 3/4." Her response being "Just wondering, because our bed time makes me think we're either 3 or 86." I guess we can't call ourselves party animals when we go to bed before 10.Long story, short, I'm back and apparently I'm paranoid. I love watching those movies and shows about people with crazy ideas and fears and conspiracies. X-Files, Enemy of the State, Conspiracy Theory, I Robot, there's like a million more but those one top my list and are easy to think about off the top of my exhausted head. Just so I make it clear, I love the shows, which are fiction and I do not obsess myself with whether or not the myths or conspiracies are true. That being said, they are fun to watch people who think the world is out to get them.

But this week I would have to say I must include myself in the list of the truly paranoid. I fully believe my two children are out to get me. They are ganging up on me in an attempt to make me lose my sanity. Sorry small pause while I reflect on the delicious rhubarb/raspberry pie Ala mode I just ate an hour ago. Oh memories of food, they make the dining experience last longer. Back to my insanity, my kids are out to get me.

My son is going through his night terror phase, which is coupled with his I want mommy phase. We have a great relationship, my son and I, he's my special little guy and he's taught me more than he'll ever know. But lately, if I look at him and smile, approach him with fingers outstretched in the tickle position (using my awesome Wicked Witch of the West voice that he used to love) saying I'll get you and your little dog too, if I try to hug him, if I try to put him down for a nap or take him from his mommy for whatever reason, if I step in between him and his mother in any way, he starts to scream. Its a high pitched scream, and I've lost frequencies in my ears now, I mean I may never hear a bell ringing again.His mommy sleeps in on Saturdays, its her day. Most days we all get up together, one big half happy/half "give me coffee" family. The kids love it, and we survive. But on Saturdays my wife sleeps when we get off, and my son hates it. If he's up, he wants his mommy up. He knows how to open doors now, so he goes in and climbs up on the bed, crawls in with his mom, pats her on the back and whispers, "Mama, no dada. Mamma, dada no." If that doesn't get her the hint, him grabbing her glasses case off the bed stand, opening it and trying to shove her glasses on her face is pretty hard to ignore.

I cannot tell you how many times I've heard "no dada, dada bye bye, dada no no no no" over the past few weeks. It's like watching Family Matters and listening to Urkel's voice over and over again, it hurts, tears you down to the core. I tried giving him a hug the other day, and got one of those slaps in the face that makes a single tear form and fall. If I ever had a problem with being too self concerned, too proud, the way my son is lately has fixed that. The feeling is...unique.

My daughter watches her big brother like a hawk. She's fixated on him. Lately she's been showing the meaning of the term monkey see monkey do. The past few days, when he screams at me, she follows suit. I can still make her laugh and smile, and I can't express how beautiful that is, prettier than than a sunset rainbow over a glacier on a chilly autumn night. She warms my heart. But, that is, only if her brother isn't around to show her how to really treat daddy. The two of them together, working against me, has sincerely got me paranoid. No matter what I say I can't convince my wife to lock our bedroom door at night, for my safety.

My kids have big eyes, and they stare, and lately when I see them stare, instead of these amazing, beautiful kids, I see children of the corn and wonder how they're plotting to push me down the stairs. When they wake me up in the middle of the night and I say through eyes almost entirely closed, "are you sure its time to get up, daddy's really tired?" they both give me the biggest smile. The smile they give says to me, "Oh we know you're tired and need more sleep, our plan is to take it away from you, and its working." Then I hear, probably in my imagination, the laugh that Bowser growls whenever Mario gets killed in the Mario games. They really are out to get me, by killing my self confidence and removing my beauty sleep (and let me tell you, a guy like me needs a lot, I can't just "put on" my fresh face every morning). I love my children more than anything, but right now, they scare me. I share this with you so that in case I "accidentally" fall down the stairs or leave the house without any clothes due to exhaustion-you can call my wife and say "He told you so."

Disclaimer: While my children really are going through an anti-daddy phase, I do not really believe they are out to get me. I can't help but wonder sometimes.

BLT says.....if they really are out to get you, its not being paranoid, its called being realistic. Mulder was right, Will Smith was right, so can I. The truth is out there.

Little Einstein

Parents love to tell you how awesome their kids are. His daughter might be the next Sara Hughes (olympic figure skater, I used her name because I here Michelle Kwan WAY too often). Her son could be the next Jim Carrey or Shia LeBeouf is you're of the younger generation.

Its funny the things we think we can compare our kids to, especially when they're really young. My son is very smart. He's mischievous, he knows how to play his parents, we can see him thinking. We told one of family members how smart we've seen him being and I remember this loved saying, "Wow, he could be the next Einstein."

I thought it neat someone thought so highly of my son's intelligence as to compare him to Professor Einstein. I would write more about this but, as I will write tomorrow, my kids are out to get me and I was up very late last night and I need to get some sleep for church tomorrow. So, I will keep this very short.

The comparison to Einstein made me laugh today as we were preparing my son for bed tonight. One of the aspects of his nightly routine is a good layer of lotion on his skin. I am not good at it and so my wife has taken that part of the night time procedure from me. But I was in the room tonight and saw, as my wife lotioned our son, that he was lifting up his leg towards his head.

At first I thought he was trying to aim his, ahem, "squirt gun" at his mommy, but I soon was proven wrong. He pulled his leg up towards his head and proceeded to lick the lotion off of his leg the way I lick baked beans and spaghetti sauce off of my plate (meaning leaving no traces of the food on my plate whatsoever), I have no shame. There are kids that eat lotion, other kids that eat food off the floor (that was me). But, my kid, he is a conosiuer of body lotion.

BLTsays.......maybe the Einstein comparisons were a bit too early. However, there is a picture of the professor sticking out his tongue, maybe he was trying to lick his leg too?

Having a (Sally) Field Day

I am nobody's huggy bear.

I don't know what it is, but unless someone is a member of my very small family tribe, and by that I mean immediate family, I don't hug them. Its never been one of the things I do. I think its always been noticeable that I'm not a huggy bear guy. I distinctly remember when I was fifteen that my best friend came to visit me and when he left there was an awkward situation as he went in for a hug and I shot him a handshake instead.

I'll never forget Billy Crystal in City Slickers II when Daniel Stern suggests they hug to keep warm, you could tell he was thinking, "Do I cuddle and lose some manly points and live, or do I risk freezing to death." I would do the same thing. After all, since I don't fish or hunt and I'm not a craftsmen or a sports enthusiast, I don't have a lot of manly points (about 20 give or take on any given day by my count, and the number goes WAY down when I watch Gilmore Girls with my wife, and even more down when I watch it without her) and I guess I worry about using them with cuddles and hugs. I have to have one way to be macho after all.

This year when one of my friends picked me up at the airport, he remembered my aversion to hugs and even said, "I know you're not a hug kind of a guy, but I haven't seen you in over six months so you're getting one anyway." I didn't argue, did I mention he used to be a cop? Plus, he drives around with a bluetooth headset which looks very authoritative. But I noticed last Sunday that my macho mania went out the window. We had a really good service that day, and although we were missing 7 regular worshippers, there was still 10 people at church, which means we would have had 17, which is really awesome. I was thrilled. Our little church sees attendance go down very low in summer with travelling and fishing and all sorts of other things and it can be discouraging. But, to see that many in August with seven missing was nothing short of amazing. After all, our first Sunday here two years ago had seven and a half people there, and two and a half of them were my family (my son was still a fetus and so didn't count for a whole yet, plus there's no lines for fetuses (or is it feti) on the stats form). The music went great, my sermon really seemed to connect with everybody, sharing in the characteristics of God's soldier as seen by the components of the armor of God. I loved it.

But, afterwards, that was when I had my wonderful (Sally) Field Day. Everybody, or is it just movie dorks like me, remembers her reaction to winning an academy award, "I can't deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me." I knew how she felt when two different corps members church members came up to me and thanked me for all my wife and I do for them, thanked us for being there for them, thanked us for loving them and stressing that a church is a family and a place to belong, thanked us for being their pastors. Then these two people, at different times mind you, reached out to give me a hug, and for the first time ever I found myself willingly hugging someone like that without any hesitation or internal struggle. Maybe our emphasis on a church being a family is finally reaching me too.

I've had my share of struggles as the pastor of a small church in a very small town. But, I have worked my hardest each day to pastor this community and show the love of God through how I treat everybody I encounter in all the things I do. I've had a lot of heartache, a few broken hearts, some amazing victories and awesome miracles that I've been privileged to witness. Amid the struggles that we face, and the crazy hectic schedule we have, I keep saying to myself its all worth it if I truly can say through all this work that someone knows God's love better and that I really helped someone. After last Sunday, those two hugs from wonderful people, I can tell you right now, the past two years of being a pastor and two years previous in training to be a pastor have all been worth it. I've helped people, I love my people and they love my family and I back. Now I know how Sally felt.

BLT says......thank you God for the opportunity to serve, and for eradicating my "no hugging" rule. I may not be a huggy bear, but I'm no stand alone Sam either.

"Define Irony..."

I sincerely believe that Steve Buscemi is an underestimated actor. He's not the traditional leading man material if you know what I mean (I'm not very blessed in the looks department (don't feel the need to oooooo at me, if I wasn't over it I wouldn't write about it)(I'm just doing this set of parenthesis just so I can have two complete sets inside of one set, there must be a grammatical rule against it that I'll have to ask my grammatician about (you know who you are) (hey that's a third and now fourth set inside of one, making five total), and if you don't know what I mean I'll spell it for you, the man is not handsome or tall or buff. He's practically an every man sort of actor, because he looks either normal or dare I say sub par, especially for a Hollywood type.

I remember the first movie I saw that he was in, Armageddon. Good golly Miss Molly was he funny in that movie, the scene of him doing a parody from Dr. Strangelove sitting on a nuclear warhead still gets me to laugh, as well as his Wile E. Coyote commentary. Since then, I've seen him in several Adam Sandler movies as hilarious supporting characters with fun props (lipstick, a sniper rifle, a shopping cart, huge eyeballs, and my favorite was when he rocked a fanny pack), a few more Michael Bay movies, and I think I even heard his voice as a hamster recently (G Force), and of course he's a hilarious private investigator on 30 Rock too (another reason to love the rock).

I've loved all the characters I've seen him play, but I think my favorite was Garland Greene. In Con-Air, a movie that I'm sure many people have forgotten, but I don't understand why with classic lines like "Put...the bunny....back in the box" Mr. Buscemi played a character I'll never forget.

A lot of movie characters gave me nightmares as a younger person. Old Yeller (growling dog=scary), Freddy Krueger whom I swore worked as a janitor at my school, Ursula the sea witch from The Little Mermaid, Judge Doom from Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Splinter from Ninja Turtles and E.T. all haunted my dreams from time to time. But one character gave me sleepless nights and, how do I say this, moist bedding more than any other, and that was Hannibal Lecter, who ate people's livers with a chianti and some farva beans.

I was never allowed to watch Silence of the Lambs, but I had my way around that. In one house we lived in growing up, from the top bunk, if the mirror on the door to my bedroom was angled just right it would catch the reflection of the hallway mirror which caught the reflection of the TV. That is how I saw Aliens and the very creepy Mr. Lecter. Even more so than E.T. and Ursula, Lecter was freaky, a look of evil.So in Con-Air, which is not about a hairdryer factory or a bunch of women sitting around talking about their hair products, a movie about a bunch of convicts who take over their transport plane to head for freedom, has a Lecter-ish character. As they describe him and his deeds, it sets you up for someone big and scary or with creepy unblinking eyes like Anthony Hopkins, you expect big and evil when they describe this character. The armor-ed truck pulls up, and guards have extra precautions to lead this Garland Greene on the plane using poles like dog catchers. You don't see his face, like Lecter he's wearing a mask. When you eventually see the whole character, played by Mr. Buscemi, I can't help but laugh, because the face of pure evil is supposed to be him, a very petite man who is calmer than any other convict on the airplane.

He's got a great line in the movie, one I've never forgotten. After the convicts endure a shootout with law enforcement officials while refueling their jet and actually managing to survive and lift off, the cons celebrate. You see them dancing in the airplane to Sweet Home Alabama, having a grand old time in their stolen freedom. After seeing this, Greene, who is sitting down with a Barbie doll (which most normal guys do pretty regularly right) looks at Nicolas Cage with long hair and a southern twang that is anything but genuine and says, "Define irony....bunch of idiots dancing in a plane to a song made popular by a group that died in a plane crash." Always, always, I've found that funny.

Until tonight, when that quote came back to taunt me. Every now and then our children gang up on Mommy and Daddy deciding that they'll both have huge emotional breakdowns at the same time just before bed time. When they reach breakdown mode, there is nothing I can do to help them, especially as seen by my son's recent speaking breakthrough of "No daddy, mama please." My presence just upsets him more (and doesn't help my very sensitive self image either) and although it hurts to know and hear, I'm proud he says please. Every once in a while his sister gets that way too, where Daddy is so five minutes ago, and Mommy is the new Daddy, rendering me helpless. So, Lisa holds them and rocks them, cuddling with them and whispering in their ears until they fall asleep. Sometimes the breakdowns are over in five minutes. But not tonight.

As we are now well more than two hours past both of their bed times and they are wide awake, I'm actually finding myself falling asleep trying to be supportive to my wife. I doze off for a minute and wake up to see my kids wide awake watching Celtic Woman in concert (last ditch effort to get them to sleep, we don't pull the big guns very often, but we have a name for them, Celtic Woman) and I can't help but think, in Steve Buscemi's distinctive voice, "Define irony.....the only person falling asleep during kid's bedtime is the daddy who's supposed to be awake." Argh! This is the bad side effect of memorizing movie lines, they can come back to haunt you.BLT says....I'm not a huge fan of ironing, and when it affects my sleep, I'm not a fan of irony either. Don't worry Mr. Buscemi, I don't blame you.

My Very Own Cliff's Notes

Did you know you don't actually have to write your own sermons? Seriously, there's way more time for video games if you just look online for them, call it Pastor's Cliff's Notes. Disclaimer: For those that do not know my humor, this is a joke, 2 years and a month and a half minus trips away equals 96 original sermons preached in Haines Alaska. 96 and counting, just don't ask me how many were good. However, I do want to tell you about my REAL Cliff's Notes.

It only took eight years, but a wall has tumbled, Goliath has fallen, the creepy Avatar tree of life with its interconnected DSL cable roots has been uprooted (seriously I have the sequel written in my head, the blue people become so connected to their planet and the voices and souls in it that they no longer have to plug in their hair to animals or the ground, they become "wireless" wi-fi hot spots) and the Cinderella man has become victorious once again.What the heck do you think I'm talking about? Cinderella man could be me referring to some kind of makeover. But, I have no ball to go to, no evil stepmother (the closest thing is a very loving step grandmother), I don't wear rags on a daily basis (my wife won't let me) and oh yeah I don't have a fairy godmother or a true love to find, and glass slippers would reveal my hobbit feet and who wants that? Seriously, I do the world a favor by keeping those things covered. In the words of Mr. Monk, you'll thank me later. However, I wouldn't mind a pumpkin carriage, especially as we're going on week three of a malfunctioning jeep.

No, in referring to Cinderella man I'm talking about the history I know of the loser boxer rising up to unexpectedly become the winner, the champ. Did you know he looked like Russel Crowe? Okay I don't know the history, just the movie based on a true story. If only this victory wasn't so trivial to everybody else, but I'm dancing in the kitchen as I gaze at the refrigerator. This is not about food by the way, but about something on the fridge.

I met my wife eleven years ago when my family moved to Ketchikan Alaska. Her parents were stationed nearby, which in Southeast Alaska terms meant they lived 9 hours away by ferry boat in Petersburg Alaska. When I saw her I knew I wanted to know her. We became acquaintances, and stayed that way for a year, dated for a year, were engaged for a year and have been married for eight. By my count that makes 43 opportunities to give gifts to the love of my life (with birthdays, Christmases and anniversaries and a wedding and Valentine's Days). Each opportunity has been hard. For eleven years she hasn't told me what she wants, in fact she's never even given me a clue.

She laughs at me because when she asks me what I would like for a gift, I tell her, and pretty easily. She says it leaves little to the imagination. When I ask her, all she ever says is something like, "Something nice." "Something special." "Surprise me." "Something different." or my personal favorite, "Something from your heart." I have had such a hard time trying to find special things to give her that I have thought it might be easier to truly give her something from my heart and have tried to think about which ventricle or atrium to give her, or maybe even do the Angelina Billy Bob thing and give her a vial of my blood, it passed through my heart at some point so must be from the heart too right?

Needless to say the gifts I've given her haven't always been great. When I worked at Waldenbooks, she got books (I got an employee discount, not my proudest moment). When I ran the housewares department at Fred Meyer, she was given cool kitchen gadgets in her stocking (I kid you not) one magical Christmas. For the past few years, though I've found a groove that works. Her birthday is right around the time that many of our TV shows are released on DVD, so lately she's been getting seasons of Bones or House or Ghost Whisperer or Lost. While she likes them, its been very predictable. Plus, I don't think she always appreciates it when I say "Don't watch them without me." I say it jokingly, but she knows as well as I do that there's quite a bit of truth in that statement. I'm happy to inform you though I've gotten over it.

She has received some really great gifts though. On her first Mother's Day she got a beautiful blue necklace with a mother and son on it with a special engraving on the back. Last year at Christmas our son and I gave her a memory book we made of all the special memories he has with her. She cried, which at first made me concerned she might hate it, you can't really tell with tears most of the time. There have been more too, I just can't remember them.

Around this time each year, I start to worry about what to get my wife as her birthday is around the corner and not too long after that is Christmas. I fully believe that a gift every year should top the gift of the previous year. I have been doing a lot of browsing online in search of some great gifts that don't don't get inserted into a DVD player.

But yesterday, the worrying ceased. As I dragged myself out of bed to take care of our son who by the way decided not just to wake us up by crawling into our bed, but to bring his Buzz and Woody talking toys with him so the three of them could have a conversation, I did my normal routine. I rolled out of bed, laid on the floor crying and asking why I had to have morning kids, asked for Mary Poppins to appear out of nowhere, realized she's not coming (guess who's not getting a holiday bonus this year), dramatically dragged myself off the floor and headed to the kitchen to get him some milk.As I opened the fridge I noticed a pink piece of paper on the door. I figured it was a note saying "Please empty the trash" "I know its early and you're just getting up, but please don't walk around the house in your underwear." "Goldfish crackers are not a breakfast food for our son." or other statements of instruction. But at further notice I realized it was the thing I've been waiting eight years for. It was like that moment where young Mr. McFly (or the boy who ran away from home as I called him in my youth) rushes to Doc Brown's side after seeing him get shot just to realize that his greatest wish for his friend not to die by gunshot had been granted as the scientist had reassembled the warning his friend wrote to him in the past about the future. By the way, to you awesome Lego game makers, may I suggest your next installment, after you finish the second Potter game, be Back to the Future Lego?

McFly got his wish, and I got mine. The pink piece of paper on the fridge was my wife's wish list for possible gifts in the future. It is a big list, full of possibilities, and I can tell you I'll keep it as it may make shopping for her stressless for years to come. Now, in a shameless piece of self preservation, I am going to share that list with you. I do it for two reasons. 1. You may be a family member or friend who might wish to buy her a gift for birthday or Christmas this year and are just itching for an idea. Here's your scratch. I do ask though that you communicate with me, probably not here as its not private and could ruin her surprise, what you get her so I don't get her the same thing and look stupid (because it happens entirely too often anyway). 2. Probably the largest reason, I may lose this list, this gift, my very own cliff's notes. I tend to do that a lot, and now it can be saved forever (or at least until the internet crashes forever on June 20, 2021.


Lisa's Wishes

World Peace
Global Domination
Juliet by Anne Fortier (Novel)
The Sisters Of Sinai by Janet Soskice (Novel)
Bones Season 5
House Season 6
Cricket Scrapbooking machine
Small Digital Camera
Cute Stationary
Stickers
Multi-Colored Pens
ITunes Gift Card
Gift Cards for Old Navy, American Eagle, Target, Jo-Ann's (you'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy by the way, this is me
talking and not part of her list), Amazon, and the pastor's
resource of Christian Book Distributors.
A Cute Lisa-ish ring
Necklaces
Cruise to Somewhere Exotic (However, you must also get a ticket for her husband)
Maid Service
Cookbooks
The Final Season of Lost

So there you have it, my cliff's notes, my wife's wishes. I remember thinking a few years ago that it would be more likely to see me competing in women's figure skating at the Olympics before I'd see my wife make a wish list.

BLT says......maybe I should start learning how to ice skate so I can train, miracles do happen after all. I just hope I don't have to wear those crazy skating outfits, wouldn't be very flattering.

Things I Didn't Need To Know About People

I never was a fan of "All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten." Funny, but too simplistic. Instead, I had a really cool poster that stated matter of factly on it that truly "Everything I Need To Know About Life I Learned From Star Trek." Many good lessons came from that, one I take seriously. "Unless you're Mr. Scott, never wear red." Always a good rule. Shout out to Mr. Abrams for even including that in the latest Star Trek movie.

This week marks the end of the second month of me running our thrift store. And in the two months of me running it entirely, plus the 4 hours or more a week for two years, and two years of thrift store experience in high school, I have heard and seen more things about people than I ever thought I would. Sad, shocking, silly, and more. Since people have bought books about things we learned from Kindergarten and Trekkies have bought paraphernalia about the lessons learned from it, I figure I might share my list of "10 Things I Didn't Need To Know I Learned From Working In Thrift Stores.".

1."Does this fit right?"
"I don't know, it's a tight skirt, but what's too tight for you?"
"Well, can you tell I'm not wearing underwear?"
"Only when you sit."
"Great."
Ewww. Needless to say, if she hadn't bought it, I would have thrown it out due to ickiness.

2."Do you take American money?"
"Yep, sure do."
"Wow, that's new, since when?"
"Longer than I've been alive, I don't know the exact date but I would say at least
since 1959."
"Why is that?"
"That's the year that Alaska became the 49th state of the United State of America."
"Oh, so why don't you take Canadian money?"
"Because Canada refuses to accept our invitation to become the 51st state."
"What's the 50th?"
"Hawaii."
"Do they take American?"
Sing it with me, "this is the conversation that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends."

3."I'm going to go try these on."
"You're going to try on used clothes, before you wash them?"
"Yes, otherwise I won't know if they fit."
"Don't you feel dirty doing that?"
"Sometimes."
"So why do you do it?"
"I guess I like dirty."

4."Are these pants see through."
"Only when you stand in the light."
"How often does the sun shine here?"
"Not terribly often, but often enough that people would know more than they need to know."

5."Hey these pants fit great, what do you think."
"Sure, they fit great."
"I think I found some new pants to go bicycling in."
"Oh I don't think they'll work for that."
"What's that?"
"Those aren't pants, they're long underwear."
6."How much are your pants?"
"Honey, he's not going to sell you his pants, I think he needs them."
"No, I meant how much do the pants cost here?"
"Two dollars a pair sir.""That's a good price, but if I want to turn these pants into shorts, will you
charge less?"
"Honey, you're going to haggle at a thrift store?"
"Sure, he doesn't mind."
"Tell you what, the lowest price I can go for those pants is $1 a leg."
"See dear, I told you I could talk him down."

7."Do you have a senior citizens discount?"
"No we don't, its a discount store."
"But what about us seniors who could use a discounted price?"
"How old are you?"
"40."
"Sir, if we did have one, you wouldn't be old enough for it."
"I'm old in spirit."

8."Hi, I'm from the cruise ship, I work on it."
"Okay, welcome."
"No offense, but I was wondering where the girl who worked here last week is?"
"She's sick and I'm filling in for her today."
"Oh, will she be back next week."
"Probably, why do you ask?"
"I wanted to ask her out. What's her name?"
"I don't think she's your type."
"Why not, what's her name."
"Well, because she's married."
"That doesn't matter to me."
"It might matter to her husband."
"Oh I'm sure he'll never know."
"Too late, her name is Lisa and she's my wife."9."Would you sell me all the pantyhose you get in that are holy or have runs in
them, the ones you wouldn't normally sell."
"Sure if you'd like to buy them. You do crafts and potpourii with them?"
"No, I like the way my husband looks in them and I don't want to pay full price
for them just to put holes in them."

10."Hey Keisha, did you know that this guy doesn't just work and run this thrift
store, he's also the Pastor here at Salvation Army?"
"Holy ----!"
"Maam, I need to ask you to please watch your language in the store, this is a
family friendly place."
"You weren't kidding Mags, he is a pastor."

BLT says......you can learn a lot from working in a store with people. But......do you really want to?