Moose Musings

and the temps drop into the 30's for the first time in...I don't know how long. It's been a long, hot year, very dry until recently. I've taken to wearing my hiking socks with the drop in temps though, cause my feet approach the temperature of liquid nitrogen when it's cooler than about 50.

My brother is now married. I hope that puts an end to what has been a trying 15 years for him. A month after I was married, he was broadsided in a pickup truck, shattered his left leg and broke his jaw. He's been through a lot of other things including cancer in the intervening time and somewhere along the way the smile I remember disappeared. Seeing him dancing with his new bride on Saturday brought tears to my eyes, and to my mom's, who I stood and held hands with as we watched. The infectious grin was back, and with it the cancer and life scars he bears seemed to vanish for a while, leaving a young man absolutely smitten by the woman in his arms. After 15 years of my own marriage I know better than to think it'll all be better now. Life has a way of digging out everything that could possibly be an issue and parading it around in full light of day, in spite of the flowery words and heartfelt promises; marriage, wonderful as it is, still requires a lot of work. But God Almighty, for one day, it was SO wonderful to see him in bliss, joyful and contented. I pray there will be many more like it in the days to come.

Six months since I joined the ranks of the unemployed. I'm tired of the questions, tired of wondering where and when the next job will come from. I'm still grateful, though, for the continued miracle of our existence, the fact that the bills are still up to date and we have plenty of food. Grateful too for my friends who have shown, time and again, that their love and care has feet and arms to back up the words.

I've read and listened to a lot of stuff lately. I don't think anything in quite some time has hit me like the vid someone linked me of a Slovenian ensemble by the name of Perpetuum Jazzile singing their arrangement of Toto's "Africa," fully a capella. I dug through some websites and found links to everything I can, and what I see is a group that is fantastically talented, musically diverse, and without the slightest bit of pretentiousness. Helps that I liked the song anyway and that I've always adored music without accompaniment, having grown up on (amongst other things) barber shop quartets. That song is by far the worst earworm I've run across in the last ten years. I spent a week getting it out of my brain. The only other things that have really did that to me were the first time I heard Greig's "In the Hall of the Mountain King" and two songs by Handel: "Hallelujah Chorus" and "Sing Unto God".

Youth ministry stuff still going ok. The group remains small, but I might be picking up a new member shortly. I'm having the guys over for a marathon Lord of the Rings plus burgers on the grill in a couple of weeks. Did a lot of back-checking on the assembly of the Bible and various archaeological finds concerning Biblical historicity to prepare for teaching through Genesis. Found some interesting things along the way, passed it along to my kids. I'm really concerned that they know what they believe and why, so I ask a lot of hard questions that people in general don't like to think about. The pastor and parents of the few I have are aware of this and my reasons for doing so and have approved, and the kids seem to respond well. It may be that the most attractive thing to them about the way I do it is that they get treated like they are adults for all intents and purposes, which is a rare thing for a teen.

I've never really liked the way big issues get handled by adults, teachers and churchgoers alike. The kneejerk reaction of almost everyone I know or have run across is to sweep inconvenient and/or uncomfortable stuff under the rug, or foist it off on someone else. I'm also not fond of the Easter bunny, Santa Claus, the tooth fairy or any of the other lies we feed our kids as they are growing up. It feels like betrayal when you first learn they aren't real. I say that because I remember it. Kids, most of the time, can handle the truth, and whether they are mature enough to understand all the consequences of the things that go on or not, and I can't think of many times when lying is preferable to just telling the kid what is really going on. This is compounded by the fact that my wife and I are trying to raise an autistic child, who might very well still believe in all those things as a teenager regardless of what we do, and is liable to freak out really badly when he learns they are not real. Of course, he may surprise me. He's far more perceptive than I realize most of the time. My dad's dad and my mom's mom died nearly the exact same day, a couple of years apart; two weeks ago (coincided with their respective funerals) he suddenly brings up to his mother and I that he misses Papa and GG. *sighs* I was both proud and sad when I heard that. I hate that he recalls the pain, but he -knew- that was when it happened, remembered what those days were like, and he handled it so well, hugged me and Brynn both.

Life goes on.

and a few comments aforehand

Elias is a random character I came up with out of the recesses of my brain that also produce nightmares about trying to swim away from sharks in an underground lake, wonder why giraffes are, and generally comes up with random weirdness to fill in the blank spots.  He's becoming more and more important somehow, like he's on his way to being a Gandalf type.  Well, that's not exactly right.  He's the sage, the guy who knows what the hero needs to know in order to do what needs doing.  The one who knows why stars fall and why there is a rift in a sea and where the fallen empire of Tirimar fled to and whether there is more to the world, more people and lands and magic and history, than what is seen.  Every bit I try to write for the world somehow finds him in it.  In some way, he's also the storyteller who keeps the old tales alive when they are no longer well known or popular, lest what must be known instead passes away.  Come a long way for a bit player.

====================

The state of the buildings intrigued him.  In any human village (or any elven treeholt for that matter) which took the sort of damage he saw, the damaged buildings were destroyed and then remade to erase or reverse the wounds taken, as it were.  Nowhere could he see any place where the dwarves had done this.

"Truly, Draenosha, I mean no offense, but would you explain something for me?"  His guide eyed him steadily, then nodded once, with exaggerated slowness.  "Why do you not repair the damage?"  Elias pointed to a particular tower, massive even amid its ruinous fall.  "After all the years, why does the great Tower of Council lay in ruin, only used by a few destitute wanderers like myself?"

The dwarf twisted at his forefinger ring as he considered this.  "Tell me this, Wanderer, and I will answer you.  When you tell stories to children, do you tell the good, the bad, or both?"

Elias thought a brief moment and nodded.  "I tell them both, Draenosha.  They need to hear the good to know and hope that what is right will win in the end.  But we learn more from the bad stories, the tragedies, than we do from the happily ever afters."

A smile graced Elias, the first he had seen this day.  "You understand already then."

Elias blinked in response, confusion written on his features, so the guide explained.  "When Kiroen and his traitorous brother fought, Kiroen saved us by taking the stroke meant to break us.  The land, though, rose in anger at the touch of the blood of its creator; it raged and heaved in fury and so struck down the Nameless when all of the other creations hid, and so he was chained within the world until the decreed time.  Thus Kodarra died, old Kombacher Dray was broken and split from Swaedur to Karkos and the world took on its new shape.  Should we not honor the blood of Kiroen and his sacrifice?"  The guide gestured at the broken tower before them.  "The fall of our greatest building of the time cannot be made as if it did not happen, and if we tried, we would lessen our memory of Kiroen's wounds.  We honor his wounds and we remember that the land itself and all within it lives and breathes because of it; we remember the fury of the land that fought for its maker when we could not."

Elias nodded as he considered.  The dwarves, with their long lives and longer memories, recalled well the great day of disaster.  For humans and for elves, generation upon generation had lived and passed since the change, but for the dwarves only two generations had been born and it was possible to talk to the sons and daughters of some who lived on that day and had heard the stories from the mouths of those who lived it.

Leaving aside the Oraenic mysticism that surrounded their stories and legends, the physical truth of the matter was shattering in its own right;  that in a day of earthquake and storm, the old world, globed, made of one continent and one ocean, cracked and broke, scattering its lands as far as the morning and the evening, the ocean rushing in to fill the new gaps creating many seas from one great water.  Elias had seen two maps purported to date from an era before the cataclysm, where one could sail east until he returned to his start point; Kodarra had been a vast greensward, a dale of living and growing along the banks of the Kodarra river - the cradle of dwarven life in the heart of Kombacher Dray, the Father Gardenhome - yet was itself only a small fraction of the great continent itself.

In all the history of the Oraen, they had been a good folk, guardians, hard workers.  Elias wondered if even they knew why and how Dwarfendark let them awry.  The shock of that still reverberated through the known world, and even the poorest landsmen on Draven Island felt it.

Separated shoulder last night, again.  Sworn off basketball for good this time; at least until I have a job and can see a specialist about surgery to fix my shoulder so it won't do that anymore and maybe not even then.  A friend took me to a nearby clinic, where I was informed that clinics, due to a change in the law, cannot administer anything that could be classified as an anesthetic.  Then she proceeded to gently try to get my arm back in place so I wouldn't have to incur $1000+ (which I don't have) from the hospital, plus a 2-3 hour wait due to the non-threatening nature of my injury.   She pulled very gently down, slowly increasing the pressure while I attempted to relax while holding onto the bed/table with my good hand.  I felt it roll some, but when she probed at it and moved my arm it wasn't right yet and I was starting to shiver from shock, so a nurse put a heavy blanket on me and I attempted to relax and warm up while the doctor let me be for a bit. 

I prayed my brains out.  I can't remember what all I said and thought.  Then I sat up to grab a drink from a cup they had brought me and realized that, with no further pain or movement I could sense, my arm was back in socket and could move more or less freely again.  I drove myself home once my friend returned me to my vehicle.  This cost me $99 I don't have, but I feel I got off really lucky.  30 days to pay before I incur any sort of charge, and probably will be able to work out a 5-10 per month plan with the clinic.

While I was bemoaning the total lack of monetary relief in sight, my injury, the fact we are almost out of gas, almost out of perishable foods, almost out of my wife's medications and completely unable to fund any further therapy for my son, not to mention the normal bills, it came to me that somehow, in spite of 4 months of no income, the bills have gotten paid and food bought and gas procured, etc, etc.  If we can hold out another couple of weeks, we'll have a bit more cash to catch up on a few things and stock up, probably take care of us through the end of the year to possibly first quarter next year depending on how things go, if I continue to have issues finding a new job.

Heard two of my favorite choir songs on the way to church today - back to back on the radio.  I'd never heard either on the radio before.  By the time I got there, I was in a better mood than I've been in for some time.  Topped it off by getting back to Manchaca in time to hear Brynn sing a solo I'd helped her pick out.

Life's pretty good.  Now if I can just get some sleep.

of what was written moosefinder.livejournal.com/9105.html. still not done though))

The Stricken Cities.  On the Wall of Descent were carved the names of all the greatfathers of the Oraen, the cities they had founded and ruled and every place in which the Oraen made a  home, from Temporaei Hy at its founding, lost far in the antiquity of time, to the latest Chapelmine delved in the Kaltyk Spikes not two years ago, and done to so exacting a standard that a human onlooker would swear each name had been carved by the same dwarf.  No settlement, no matter how insignificant was overlooked.  Those settlements lost over time were noted by addition of a single black shimmerpearl to the first letter.  There were, however, several places where the stone had been chipped out so entirely that no part of the name there could be guessed, unless you knew what name had been there before.  Perhaps one third of all the living cities had been Stricken, removed from the rolls of Oraenic honor, and a striking contrast to the refusal to cleanse the great palace, lest they forget their shame. "Or perhaps not." he thought.  "Every dwarf here knows the names of the cities by heart, and perhaps any dwarf from the Stricken Cities arriving would be shamed by the absence of their home."

Elias traced one such blank; when he had been a child, the name Zakh Certhan had been there.  A deep delve of respectable age and influence on the middle continent, a "normal" Oraenic dwelling as such things went, until Dwarfendark rose to power there.  And now it not only did not foreswear his actions, it sought a return to his ways and power.  Ellond and Tirim stood ruined to this day, the realm of Tirimar little more than a memory, the greatest part of its people having departed over the ocean and disappearing into the mists of time.  Or so it was thought by the world at large.  Elias knew better, being a Tirimarian survivor himself, but that secret was held more tightly than the Oraen hid the name of Dwarfendark's son.

His guide snorted in disapproval at his pause over the stricken name, though he likely thought it a coincidence.  Elias had not informed anyone of his previous visit and in truth he did not remember a great amount.  The name had stuck in his head, because as a child he had been there; the dwarf realm had been close enough to the ports his father sometimes visited to do business that he had traveled there on one occasion.  In truth, most of what he knew of Delta City came from books he had read while studying at the Cathedral in Snowmist and he'd needed a guide to get him through.  The city map he had so carefully committed to memory had been invalidated by the cataclysm that drove Kodarra beneath the sea and turned many of the greatest ways of the city into rivers and for each tower that had withstood the onslaught, another three had cracked and fallen and a fourth had leaned against its neighbor. Sometimes that brought the destruction of both and sometimes it ground to a halt against its brother, looking for all the world as if the twain had been built that way.  The dwarves had taken and converted each tower and its remnants into some new function, with only the barest and most necessary of cosmetic modifications.

This was the third consecutive Sunday I've had potluck lunch. First was at the tiny church I serve as a youth minister; they do that on the first Sunday of each month. The last two have been at my former church, which Brynn and Josiah still attend. GOOOOOOD food. nomnomnomnom

I wonder how much good I do sometimes with the youth. I mean, you never really know the impact you have on anyone save those you are closest to, but I do wonder sometimes. The two, sometimes three, I have at my new church are good kids to be sure, but no more likely to read or pray or put into practice what we talk about in church or Sunday school than anyone else I've ever taught. Most kids just laugh it off and concentrate on what they want, which is having fun. I understand and respect that. I still feel the same most days. All I really hope to do is instill a good habit or two and try to love them best I can.

Today, the mother of one of the kids in my last class before I left for my current church came up to me and told me what her son had been talking about. It was all stuff I had taught, stories I had recalled, things I had said, while I was with them. He's thinking about it. It's important to him. I was blown away. Always had a high opinion of him anyway, he's one of the few who goes out of his way to greet Josiah and takes him seriously no matter how goofy he seems. She said she just wanted me to know. Almost brought tears to my eyes; I've been longing for some indication I was doing the right thing, especially in light of being almost 3 months out of work.

Somehow, the bills keep getting paid and we are keeping food on the table. It's all grace and love and kindness and generosity that's doing it.

Writing comes in fits and starts. Right now, it's avoiding me. I want to write, but when I sit down, nothing comes. Mostly, I see disjointed pictures in my head that don't fit together. My most recent venture came from a single vision in my head that I wove into a partial story based on what I know of that part of the world, but I've lost the thread of it and can't get it back. /grumbles, then chuckles

I guess if it were easy, everyone would do it.

Got rain this week. Need more. Was nice to finally have a sub-100 degree day or two, though, as a result.

If my cat gets anymore pitiful, she'll melt into a puddle of pity that would make Mr. T say awwwww instead of pitying the fool. :)

Need mountains. I'm severely lacking in my mountainous quotient right now. WTB Colorado trip, pst. :D

Stress is building again, and finding ways to bleed it off is getting harder. About the only thing that's working is immersing myself in stories that inspire me. Hoops don't work, WoW doesn't work, piano playing doesn't work, prayer feels like it bounces off the ceiling. I've been buried in some of my favorite Tom Clancy, Dick Francis, etc., books or watching LotR or other stuff. Sleep doesn't come easy and when it does it lasts too long or nowhere near long enough, I wake up more tired than I was when I dropped off.

The trip to Dallas has been a relief in some respects and the opposite in others.

[[Not complete yet. But here is what I have so far.]]

There was no place in the world like it.

To be fair, every city in every nation makes this claim, but for Delta City, it was pure, unvarnished truth. The only above ground city ever built by the Dwarves in their long history, that tradition held had even survived the Day of Disaster, it grew out of the great grassy sward bordering the river of the Dark Continent, mountains of marble, limestone and granite seemingly carved where they stood, rather than built. The only things that had changed were its name and locale...Temporaei Hy, the shining city of the Kodaran plains no longer, but a simple descriptor of its present location at the mouth of the river now flowing amongst its byways into the ocean that had overtaken old Kodara, drowning its majesty in briny forgetfulness.

Once, it had been the seat of power for all Dwarfendom, that place where the highest priests worshipped and studied, where the greatest creators of that kind displayed there works, where the best and brightest of each new generation came forth to seek their place. And so it remained even through the change of place and name, until the shame of the nation came to pass and took up residence in the heart of the Orae, of the Dwarven people.

Elias stood still as he drank in the view, nodding absently in time with the words, but not really hearing his guide.

You really shouldn't be able to SEE evil in this way, he thought to himself, but there it was. The blackened blood hue of the stone palace at the heart of Delta City, so starkly at odds with the shimmering whites, yellows, pinks and greys of the city, drove home the point without the need of any Dwarf to elaborate. You knew, just by looking. This was it.

Dolen Oraenacus had ruled here. Dwarfendark, the world he had terrorized had dubbed him, a leader as callous as he was charismatic, demagogue extraordinaire, who had united the Oraen as no other ever had, and nearly destroyed all other nations with the power he wielded from the throne he had handcarved and set up in this most holy place. The stone of the ruling temple had darkened in protest and disgrace, the more poetically minded declared, weeping for the use its creators had been put to.

His Oraen guide trailed off and sighed as he realized his charge no longer paid him any mind, tracing a sign of guilt in the air in front of him once more. As he turned to continue the tour, Elias surprised him with the first words he had spoken that day.

"Why do you not cleanse the great palace?"

The Dwarf stiffened, insult plainly taken from the question, yet Elias heeded it not. "The shame, it can never be forgotten." Jerking a hand at the palace, he continued with a voice of jagged flint. "We remind ourselves daily of our guilt. The name of each city that did not repent of Dolen's crime, it is carved on our gate. The face of each ruler who opposed Dolen is chipped out of the walls of our high seat. As the Oraen live and breathe, it will never happen again, not while stone still stands upon stone, not while one Oraen draws breath and calls this place home, Sefallendrae." He spoke that last with gritted teeth. Elias winced. The term literally meant a mason with no stone to cut and lay, but its meaning in truth was clear as the Snowmist Sea even to one who didn't speak Oraenic.

"Forgive my words; I spoke poorly, Draenosha," he replied, using the term for a Finderpriest of ore and rock, a word which sounded to the untrained much like the words for Respected Father, Drayn Oshar; he hoped the intended pun indicated both respect for the person and station of his guide and his knowledge of their tongue. The Dwarf bowed with his left hand touching his beard, and the stiffness evaporated from both body and the air around them. "If you will forgive another question, why does the city stand so empty?" Delta City could easily hold twice the number of dwarves that now inhabited it, with room for many more than that making the Jah Drayn, the Journey of Honor, that every Oraen who lived would make at least 3 times barring death or calamity.

His guide gazed at him long, craggy brow knotted in mixed annoyance and anguish. "It has been a mere 100 years since the Era of Terror, as your people put it. Half our people fell in it and many others departed for good or ill. By the Blood of the world, may their stone be strong and their spirits mighty as the arms of Kiroen 'till our hammers cross paths once more."

"You speak of kin you miss and respect, no doubt, my good Oraen." A faint smile flickered and fell. "Where did they depart to?"

The face before him gaped a moment. "Some to Kiroen's halls, some to the Stricken Cities, some to exile of self, and some to find and build a new home."

I sometimes think my life is a parable for those I meet. If that sounds arrogant or weird or anything of the sort, it's not intended to, but I seem to spend my life learning the lessons I try to teach those around me, experiencing the things that I try to live out before each person I come across.

The lesson today I taught was on trust. Bible passage was in Daniel, regarding three young men thrown into a furnace for refusing to bow before a statue. The king, full of his power and sense of self, said that if they would not, he would throw them in, "and then what god can save you from my hand?" Their answer was one that makes me shiver even now. In so many words, they said our God is bigger than you and can save us no matter what you do, and even if he doesn't, up yours, o king. How do you get to the point where you trust in God in that fashion? That's the question I put to my kids, then I stopped to look at my own life in retrospect.

I've had over 10 years of living from God's hand directly. I look at what we've earned in that time period, against what we had to spend and what we've experienced along the way, and there is no way it should add up the way it has. Consider:

We've had no insurance for almost 10 years for Brynn or Josiah. They both have pre-existent conditions that guarantee rejection from any company we approach individually (yes I've tried), and we've never been able to afford the cost of the benefits that came with the jobs I have worked since Josiah was born. We spend tons in medical bills each month, while I, the one who is pretty much completely healthy and carried full coverage until I lost my job in May, have needed almost no care in that time period. They have each had surgery in that time period as well.

We have two cars with no car payment.

Our debt is mostly our house note.

We have never gone hungry. In fact, my pantry right now is so full I had to put a box of cans out in the garage.

We have plenty of clothes. I don't have enough hangers for all of it.

We have replaced the siding, the AC unit, all the floors, both toilets, + 35 gallons of paint, a bunch of appliances, etc. in our house over that time period.

On top of this, I've taken a mission trip to China, we as a family have gone to Colorado 5 times, Switzerland once, and Glacier in Montana once in that time period. We have also rebuilt our computer twice, replaced the television, the dvd and vhs players and come into possession of a PS2 and other electronic stuffs.

And until this year, I was never on schedule to make more than 40,000 in one year at any point.

I look at my life, and I just shake my head in wonder. Even now, when I wonder (worry) from day to day where the money I need to pay the next bill will come from, things continue to work out, sometimes without my asking for help. God has measured out blessing to me and mine, and hasn't been stingy with the measuring cup he uses.

At what point, then, do I finally give over worrying and just enjoy the ride? I'd save myself a lot of stomach trouble if I did. Peace is fleeting right now, hard as I try to grasp it. I guess I just enjoy worrying sometimes. I never did like not being in control, but as I look over my life, I can't really see any point in time that I was; only times that it looked like it.

I told my pastor I have a hard time not thinking the light I see coming toward me is a train. Truth be told, though, when I really get down deep into what I think and feel and believe, the light is a golden sunrise. When I get there and look back, it will have been worth the journey. And then I'll have a new story to praise God with, and a new hope to share with those walking the path I have already trod. I already know how the story ends anyway.

(fades into the distance while singing)

Bring me joy, bring me peace,
Bring the chance to be free,
Bring me anything that brings you glory

And I know, there'll be days
When this life brings me pain,
But if that's what it takes to praise you,
Jesus bring the rain.

Holy, Holy, Holy
Holy, Holy, Holy
Is the Lord God Almighty
Is the Lord God Almighty
I'll forever sing...(repeats ad infinitum)

I turn 35 Saturday. Still don't feel it most of the time. That's not a complaint, just a comment. I get sore a bit more easily, but I never had the heavy weight gain I've been warned I would have since I was 18; in fact, I'm too skinny right now. Starting to gain back weight I'd lost over the last few months of my job before I got let go, so I guess that's good. Losing 25 pounds when you're like I am is not a good thing.

Mostly, I just notice that time goes ever, ever on, and at an ever increasing pace. 15th anniversary passed by last month, in 6 months Josiah will be 10, we've owned this house for 8 years now, etc., etc. Just can't credit how quickly things move on.

My first couple of weeks as the (volunteer) youth minister at the small mission church southeast of here have gone well. I've got a rough outline for curriculum for the rest of the year in place along with some ideas about activities. I have two junior-going-on-senior class guys, plus the younger brother of one of the two, so one of the things we're seeking to do is solidify belief structure: what is it that you believe and why. I didn't honestly know why (other than because my parents believed it) until I got to college. I had to walk a rather rocky path of learning the hard way the answers to a lot of those questions, in the process nearly losing faith entirely before I made my way back. The idea is, against the backdrop of Scripture, to delve into what Christianity is about, what Christians should be doing, why we believe what we believe, along with side trips into extra-Biblical sources that lend credence to the Bible's historicity, and along the way to explore any of the hard questions they have. I don't believe in dodging the "why" questions. I don't know the answers to all of them, but I'm not afraid to delve into them either. Almost every youth I've ever taught wants to be treated more like an adult. I prefer that, truth be told. It means they are ready (or think they are ready) to deal with the hard questions and not flinch from the answers.

Wish I had something to say about the job situation. All I can say is that God provides what we need. The only thing I've actually asked people for help with was a car repair a couple of weeks ago. Everything else, all other payments, food, etc., have been the result of people calling up and arranging to do something on our behalf. It's really amazing. So, on the one hand, I'm worried sick cause I'm at the end of my rope. We're out of money and have no prospect of regular income. On the other, we haven't gone hungry yet and the house note was paid again. Still have lots of bills to pay, but somehow, someway, we'll get through.

God bless you all, in the measure with which he has blessed me, or even greater.

and flies. and flies. Never really slows down.

Surgery for my son and the post-surgery cast time came and went. Outside of a four hour stretch post operation, he's done almost spectacularly well. Grumpiness still weaves in and out of his days, but his strength is returning and he's starting to try to run and jump again. Scottish Rite Hospital in Dallas was a miracle. I'd never wish the combination of lack of money and a child with needed treatment on anyone, but if you find yourself in that situation, it is an incredible place to have that need met. The nurses were fantastic, as were the doctors and physical therapists, and I can't think of a single thing I would complain about. They love kids and it shows.

Probably gonna have to get a new job. I don't fit this one and my work product ain't good. We'll see what comes.

Just surviving day to day right now, and hoping for the best. Cheers folks.

Already off to the races, too.

Did the normal all nighter with the youth on New Year's, was loads of fun, saw National Treasure II in the bargain which worked out well for me. Just a TON of kids this year though. Only got one shot at the laser tag maze this time around, usually get 4-6. I wound up guarding the purses/bags/pillows/etc for a while and just chatting. Bowling is always fun. What was really cool was having a kid in our lane who had never bowled before go from making an 8 in his first game to scoring 72 in his last. He was having a blast and it showed.

Computer died Sunday night. Well, really just the hard drive, but it in effect killed the computer. My 6 year old system doesn't want to accommodate a newer drive (spent 6 hours trying Saturday cause I knew the drive was going) so we are building a new one. A techie I know from work offered me a box and power supply, I'd bought the new hard drive already, plus I have a newish vid card, so really all I need are mobo, processor and memory. The disk and CD drives from the old box are still functional and I have a modem card as well, so I think we'll be good. Gave the money I have for it plus all the parts to another tech friend of mine who is shopping around to get me a decent system put together. Hopefully will have it by the end of this week. I'm in withdrawal without a comp right now.

Played basketball for the first time since I separated my shoulder last night. It was...different. I didn't play well at all, which in some ways is to be expected. Played the last game guarding the guy I got tangled up with to cause the separation. I'm fairly instinctual when I play, and stopping to think and trying to make sure I didn't make any trouble for myself threw off what little rhythm I had left and in the end I left frustrated. Took it out on Lego Star Wars when I got home. I've screw up my body several times, but this is the first time I've ever been reticent about playing afterwards. I don't like that feeling.

Looks like we get free Chipotle this Sunday. Hooray!

Cheers, folks.

It's almost always a relief to me to get Christmas behind me.

People who know my background religiously tend to blink when I say that, but it's true. The whole "season" wears me out, in part because it has so little to do with the reason for the season anymore, and I'm not just speaking about rampant commercialism.

Of late, the dislike between me and my father in law has intensified immeasurably. Any holiday brings with it the possibility of having to deal with another rant from him. We got through it this time without, by flatly refusing to set foot in his house on Christmas day. My mom (and myself for that matter) still didn't want him to spend the day all alone, so he was welcomed to my folks' house along with Brynn's mom, whom I love. I found out afterwards my mom threatened him preemptively with police action if he caused any trouble. I wish she hadn't, but it kept him quiet and out of trouble. His emotional abuse, which came dangerously close to physical abuse this last time, of Brynn is something we will no longer tolerate. Given his "apology" to my son, which made no mention of me, I'd he still thinks he is white as snow, and that I was in the wrong for trying to make him let go. Her wrist was swollen four days afterward.

We've not liked each other since we met, but until Thanksgiving we'd largely managed to avoid major confrontation. Not any more. The thought of the man infuriates me in a way I cannot describe, and if he lays hands on Brynn one more time, I'm likely to punch him dead in the face, and I'm a retiring non-confrontationalist by nature in person. My dad, if he knew the full extent of what happened, likely would knock him out cold. Dad, in addition to being larger than me by 50 pounds and 3 inches, is one of the strongest men I've ever met in terms of sheer untrained strength and he's like a grizzly if he perceives that anyone in his family is under attack. His opinion of the father-in-law is, if possible, even lower than mine. I don't think he'll ever fully appreciate what it meant to me that he intercepted the other dad and kept him busy with inane conversation away from me for most of Christmas day.

Got some good news regarding Josiah. He has been referred to Scottish Rite in Dallas for his surgical procedure. Since we do not have insurance (and I've yet to come across insurance that would cover any of his autism related expenses anyway), we have to pay full price, but at Scottish Rite all procedures are paid for, and they are one of the best hospitals in the country. The evaluation is to occur on January 28 (also will serve as a second opinion) with the procedure to be set soon after, as I understand it.

Josiah will be 9 on Sunday. Seems hard to believe, but there it is. God I love him. Can't imagine life without him. Never understood love at first sight until I saw him for the first time as he was born.

Had an interesting discussion in the youth group on Sunday. We had been talking about Simeon, an old man at the time of Christ's birth, and somehow it wandered off into how you know what to do in life. One of my seventh graders, a girl, said something along the lines about how she hears all these stories about how people hear God saying things, or see him working miracles, and she doesn't. Struck home to me, because I'm the same way.

So I told her how I wound up in the youth group teaching. I liked hanging out with the kids, but I preferred the older kids. I started out teaching 11th grade. A couple of years later I wound up teaching 7-8th grade, not because I wanted to, but because they needed the help. That was the group I least wanted to teach, the group I most could not stand when I was growing up. I still get a lot of parents and other adults telling me that, especially when they find out how long I've been at it. 3 months into that school year, the primary teacher (I was sort of an aide and bouncer if you will; 7-8th grade boys kinda need someone to yank them up short on occasion when they get crazy, and also to talk video games and stuff with them) passed away, aneurysm if I recall right. His youngest son was in that class. It fell to me to take over. What I knew then was that those kids, and that young man in particular, needed someone to love them and I was the person in that place at that time. And when the next year rolled around, I no longer wanted to leave.

I took a two year break, but outside of that I've been doing this for...12 years I think. I wonder sometimes if I'm really doing any good, if I really belong there anymore. And then one or two in the youth group will give me an unsolicited big hug and try to get me to talk, cause they really care and can tell something is up. One is an eighth grader who calls me her second dad. The other is a junior I play on the basketball court, he's four inches taller than me now and still growing. I get from that a "keep going, you're where you need to be right now." No signs in the sky or anything, just a coincidence or two that got me where I am, loving the kids I love. I guess those who really need those signs get them, and those who don't, don't. Me, I know what I believe and why. I know my job is to care for those I'm around as best I can, be they 2 or 12 or 72. I miss my kids terribly when they aren't there, or when I'm not there. I'm SO looking forward to Wednesday night. All nighter, pizza, music, bowling, laser tag and movies. We'll see if any of them can keep up with me this year. /chuckle

That, really, is the core of the problem between me and my father in law. I know I'll never be rich, and I'm at peace with that. I don't know where I'm headed as a person, or we as a family, and though I wrestle with that, in the end I'm cool with it. I know the command is to love God and to love people so that when I reach the end and get my chance at rest, people will know Him, if by no other reason, by how I lived. I'm content, even though we struggle. My success is determined by loving people, not by a bottom line. Every good thing we have is a gift and not earned, both figuratively and literally, and the life we live is blessed because of that, rather than in spite of it. If, as I suspect will happen at some point before I die, I and my family get called to work with the poor of the world in a foreign country, it will infuriate him to no end. The jerk on my heart when I consider it is similar to the feelings I experienced when I wondered whether I should marry Brynn, and when I wondered whether I should go to China. Both of those turned out for the best.

1) Play Lego Indiana Jones
2) Read a book
3) AIM with lots of folks
4) Sift through screenies and find a couple that really look epic
5) Randomize brain variables for encouragement of a new paradigm (ok I made that up. Sounds Dilbert doesn't it?)
6) /snooze

So if you play Warcraft you're aware the whole system was borked yesterday, until after bedtime for most, myself included.  The only thing that really annoys me about it is that it doesn't bode too well for a new release in just over a day (at that time) to get your system that fouled up.  My only plans were to fish and chat, which go together rather well, and I still got to do the chat part.

If you haven't played Lego Indiana Jones or Lego Star Wars, and you like video games at all, you NEED TO PLAY THESE.  They are freaking hilarious, nothing terribly difficult mind you, but loads of fun to manipulate the whole Lego universe to the music of John Williams and explode the bad guys into mini lego stud oblivion.  My son loves 'em and we play them together sometimes on our PS2.

Been concurrently reading a collection of Dante stuff (just started),Case for Christ, Zits...and I'm forgetting something.  Dante is taking me a bit to get into.  Gotta overcome my reflexive boredom and distaste for anything generally acclaimed as a "classic."  I unfortunately developed that in high school and college, where I was forced to read a lot of boring stuff and the regurgitate the teacher/professor's point of view on all these supposed high works of art, so opening one is kinda like the start of a sermon for a lot of folks I know, instant snooze.  Case for Christ I've read before, but I tend to re-read most of the stuff I've read before each year, so it's about time; plus reading his journey is in some respect like mine, though I didn't have the means to do as he did.  Yes that means I re-read a lot of stuff over the course of the year.  Zits is just for fun, makes me laugh, sort of a teenage setting for Calvin and Hobbes, with all the high school cliches that are so true they hurt, but still so funny.  And...I'll remember you, fourth book!  /shakes fist

AIM primarily with 3 folks.  Screenies, I don't have a lot any more after I uninstalled the game last year for a while, but I found a couple of keepers.  One is from an Onyxia kill I went to with Gori leading.  Was the first day I specced Mulk for boomkin, and darned if I didn't get myself murdered for aggro. That's a hard spec to control sometimes.  Gori wound up tanking her post fear right on top of my dead body and I swiveled the camera angle a bit and hit the button, then forgot all about it until yesterday.  It caught him in mid animation with Thunderfury, so he has a swirl of lightning about him in front of this massive dragon.  The other is one I took when Rahzu and I duo'd Auchenai Crypts.  We accidentally aggroed a group of mobs and he got MC'ed, just murdered the freaking heck out of me.  When I released, I still had him targeted and there was a skull where his level should have been, making him a boss level mob.  No lie. I've fought warglaive rogues in pvp that didn't hit as hard as he did.

 Shoulder is doing ok, not 100% but a lot better.  Haven't thought about Papa a lot since I got home from the funeral, not decided if that's good or bad or a little of both.  Digging out of a financial hole we found ourselves in in September, can see the light as it were, if things continue as they are.  In closing, last night, my son was doing his homework then came out and gave my wife a note he had written. It said:

"Mom, I was going to write sentences, but I couldn't because the teacher made some mistakes. Maybe next time. Josiah"

I cracked up a bit when I heard about it.  The heck of it was, he was right.  The instructions made no sense at all.  We'll see what comes of that today in school I guess.  He usually gets really worked up when things don't go according to plan; freaks him out a bit.  This time he blew it off and went on with life, which is cool.  Kids. /chuckles

Herro again.

( Insomniac drivel herein )



This is Swiftcurrent Peak, as viewed from along the road just below the lake of the same name, pic taken this past June and posted here for therapeutic value for mountainholics such as myself. :)

Another birthday came and went last week.  I still don't know what I'm supposed to make of my birthday.  I think the last time I had a party I was 12, the last time it meant anything to me at all I was 16.  That was 18 years ago.  I get asked what I want for my birthday or Christmas or whatever and I don't know how to answer.  I have what I need and part of what I really want.  Those things I would love most to have are beyond the scope of anyone but God to give.  So I try to be content.  Really, I guess all I need to know on that day is that people remember and that they care.  A simple card or phone call is perfect.

Work stress is high right now.  One of my co-workers left on the last day I worked before vacation back in June, the first replacement we hired didn't work out.  So I'm stuck doing a job I really don't want to do, but for people who have really taken care of me as an employee.  I have to call someone and give them bad news in a few minutes and I badly hate the thought of doing that.  It's not the first, nor will it be the last.  My very soul hurts, as I've been where some of these folks are.

One of my best friends wrote something about me that made me blush on my birthday.  Maybe it's cause I so easily see all my faults in the mirror.  But I honestly don't get why I'm held in so high regard by people.  Especially people who know I'm Christian, know what that belief entails and disagree with it (sometimes vehemently), but still hold me in esteem.  It feels good, to be sure, but sometimes I look at the well and there's nothing left in it; I'm totally dry, incapable of being who I want to be and people still say stuff like he said.  Or at church, those who think of me as a role model.  I don't get it.  Yeah I show up, yeah I sing, yeah I teach Sunday School, blah blah blah.  I'm not exactly the greatest at any of those, I'm a horrible procrastinator, and most of the time I'd rather be playing hoops or on the computer than reading the Bible and praying.  I worry tons even when I -know- there is nothing to worry about.  I do stuff I know I shouldn't do.  I desire things I know are not only wrong, but against everything I've said I stand for.

/grumbles

One of my worst traits has always been self critique.

Boy I feel old this morning.  At 33 I just don't recover from a night of hoops like I used to. *chuckles*  My back is so stiff, I think oak bends better.  Ah well.  As long as the guys I play against keep failing to box out I'll have a heyday in the middle even though I'm not a prototypical post man and rebounder. The only two who do, one isn't there often and the other is moving to Corpus.  If a stiff back is the price, so be it.  It's a lot of fun, and good bonding time between me and the other adults with the youth who come out to play, one of whom is a real load at 6'4" and able to dunk.  Glad I can still make him work even though I am twice his age.

Finally got the taxes done two days before; getting a decent return out of it that will help fund our trip.  I was getting worried about the finances.  Still am a bit, as gas will cost almost as much as the hotels if the prices keep going like they are.  But, barring any major repairs to the vehicle or house or something similar, we should be good.  Which is good.  I've never been to Glacier National Park before and I'm really chomping at the bit to go.  Closest I've been is Red Lodge, Montana, on my last trip to Yellowstone in 1991.

Our son will need surgery on his achilles tendons in the next year or so.  It's related to his toe-walking (think ballerina, except he walks like that all the time) and has shortened the tendons to the point that they need to be relaxed before he really starts to grow and gets his feet and ankles and calves completely out of whack.   Not looking forward to that.  I got weepy the times my wife has been knocked out for surgery, and with a kid who tends to freak at the least little out of the ordinary thing I'm really uneasy with how he will take being put under.

I recall very clearly when I found out just crying over my lunch break and wondering why it can't be me.  I'm the only insured in my family (we make too much, somehow, to qualify for any assistance with insurance and insurance for two people with preexistent conditions almost requires you to be independently wealthy to afford it) and I'm the only one who has no ongoing medical needs.  As badly as I hated my one trip to the hospital, I'd take that and much more to keep my son out of that, at least for a while longer.  There's something about having your kid need medical care that just makes you feel like a failure, regardless how wrongheaded that feeling is.  We find out more in July.  Hopefully we can get a referral to Scottish Rite up in Dallas; procedures there are paid for, or so I understand, and the hospital is very good.  A friend with a child suffering from Muscular Dystrophy gave me a good recommendation and some contact info.

Good news is the procedure is fairly common for kids like him and low on the complications possibilities; it's even a day-surgery thing now and he'd probably be up and around fairly quickly afterwards.


Random pic of the wife and kid:



Given that it's a June trip to Glacier there might still be enough snow in easy to reach places to take another pic like that.  Have I mentioned I'm looking forward to the trip?  :)

Alternating stripes of gold and deep purple danced across the sky, the setting sun poking holes in the low clouds in a vain attempt to prolong the day as the rain dissipated.  The watchman gazed into the coming nightfall, nodding with satisfaction as stars twinkled into view one at a time, dancing in and out of the cloud cover.

been tugging at this for a few weeks.  Still don't like it, but here it is

Had the unmistakable nagging feeling that I'm forgetting things.  As someone who treasures memory so highly, this both annoys and angers, and sometimes frightens.

I was reading the other day about how the mind and the brain are two separate entities.  The mind is conscious. The brain is not.  I won't go into the details of why or how this can be ascertained, as it's not really germane, but for a moment, it was like a door unlocked and I understood something of what real dreams are (the kind that have meaning in the waking world) and why they occur, and maybe something about why normal dreams happen.  The thread of that thought is completely gone today, beyond a foggy remembrance of the dimensionality we inhabit.

Today, I was reading "Thief of Time" by Terry Pratchett.  It sparked a thought in my mind.  For the longest time I've had trouble writing for my world, and the biggest component in that trouble is the inability to find a purpose that hasn't already been overdone.  As I read the story about the perfect clock, it occurred to me that I have a world in which time is unbalanced; this is a piece of why the sun behaves as it does there.  Is the idea I've been looking for related to time's wobbly being in this broken, flattened imaginary landscape?  I don't know.  For a moment, my way was clear, and now, 20 minutes later, it's gone and I can't recall the shapes, only a vague recollection of color and sound, sight and song, that belongs on no map I know.  Not even the one I wrote.

I don't dream often at all.  When I do, I at least have the sense that a dream occurred even if I don't recall it.  It's sort of odd, I go long periods with no dreams, then I spend an entire night dreaming this vivid, full-color epics that wear me out.  To this day, though, I only recall two dreams.  One, a recurring nightmare I had for long years that I've long been free of.  The other, though, was a dream I had some years back that might, possibly, have been true.  The true one, all I really recall are colors that cannot be described satisfactorily; standing in the presence of the Crystal Throne of God and seeing that white is really infused with brilliance like a beam shone through a diamond, full of living fire.  It makes our "white" seem dingy, grey, by comparison.  Man I wish my memory hadn't faded...

Ah well.  Had to share my angst, as it were.  Wish I had a more efficient brain. :D

A tale of a man trying to discover the nature of his world...and in the process telling you a little bit more about my made up world.