Wednesday, June 27, 2007

And now a word from our sponsors

Matt will be out of the country for a while in Korea at CM07. Don't worry, a bleary-eyed, jet-lagged report is sure to follow.

In the meantime, I give you some topics to discuss in the comments section. Please entertain one another. I will join you when I return:

1) Paris Hilton. This is your one chance, people. This will not come up at BHR again.

2) The Hilton in Paris. For those who have been to the city of love.

3) Should people be allowed not to stand trial for murder because they are insane? No, really. What do you think?

4) Why can't Oregon strawberries be in season all year long?

5) If you got to name a national park, what would you name it?

6) If you had the choice between going to a frog party or a weasel party, which would you go to?

7) Best sitcom "of all time". Including the future.

8) Open thread.


My daughters learned to ride their bikes this week. I have some video that I will upload someday so you can bask in their cuteness. This means, of course, that I have heard that melon-hitting-concrete sound of a helmeted head bouncing off blacktop at least once this week. Overall it's been amazing. They went from training wheels to riding up and down the street unassisted in only a couple hours.

Today "A" came riding up on her bike, jumped the curb and slammed on the brakes so her bike went sideways and came to a stop right in front of me.

A: How was that, Dad?

Me: Great!

A (disappointed): Oh. I thought you would say, "fantastic."

Monday, June 25, 2007

They Are Space Babies!

A teacher in Illinois was surprised to discover that her video baby monitor was picking up live footage from inside the space shuttle Atlantis. She reports that a manuevering system pod was crying until John "Danny" Olivas repositioned its thermal blanket.

God's gonna cut you down

Our friend Shasta sometimes asks if I listen to any music other than Switchfoot. And of course I do. She happens to like country "music" which is anathema to me. However. I do happen to like Johnny Cash. I prefer not to think of his music as country.

I really like this song "When the Man Comes Around". It's quite possibly my favorite Christian song. I like to walk around the house saying things like, "The Virgins are all trimming their wicks." Ha ha ha! Now that's good Bible lyrics.

As a result of my Deep Love for the aforementioned song, I downloaded the song God's Gonna Cut You Down with iTunes cash (ha ha) that my mother-in-law gave me for Father's Day (thanks, Janet).

I like this song a lot. It's an old folk song, of course. I went and found the video online so you could listen to it. And you can see all the movie stars and musicians that volunteered to be in the video as a tribute to Cash (deceased by the time the song was released). I wish there was a way for you to listen to the song without watching the video first, though. Just close your eyes!

I like how Cash could embrace a song that is so uncompromisingly focused on God's judgement. "Man Comes Around" is the same way. We get really caught up in talking about God's grace (which I am all for, by the way) but the justice side of things gets ignored or perverted by judgemental idiots. The point is, you can get away with evil for a while. But eventually you will be punished. And that's not something that scares someone who is trying to live a righteous life. It is, in fact, immensely comforting to know that God's justice and judgment will come on those who plan evil against their fellow men.

The one thing that makes me nervous, though: What's a rambler? I have a guess, at least, on what a midnight rider and a backbiter is, but I just am not sure what a rambler is. Am I rambling now? Hold on, I didn't mean to be a rambl--

Sunday, June 24, 2007


We talked in church today about the choices that God brings to us sometimes, and how confusing it can be when he seems to close a direction that is a good one. For our church it is our building program. The leaders of the church realized that to continue to move forward with that vision in light of the escalating costs would be to enslave the next generation of the church to a debt that wasn't justifiable.

Toward the end of the service we sang a familiar old hymn, one which I've always loved. But I was particularly struck today by the profundity of this song as a prayer during times of decision, especially difficult decisions where every option on the table seems to be a good one...

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that thou art.
thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.

Be thou my wisdom, And thou my true Word;
I ever with thee, and thou with me, Lord;
thou my great Father, I thy true son;
thou in me dwelling, and I with thee one.

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise,
thou mine inheritance, now and always:
thou and thou only, first in my heart,
High King of heaven, my Treasure thou art.

High King of heaven, my victory won,
May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heaven's Son!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O ruler of all.

We all end up in these moments of decision. And trying to unravel our emotions and desires and passions and fears to think and feel clearly for even a moment can seem overwhelming, and frightening, and impossible. But for me, at the end of the day, what matters most is that my family and I are following him wherever he leads, whether that's through storms or fire or merely into the uncertain future that comes when he says, "Arise and follow me." I think the line that meant most to me today was, "naught be all else to me save that thou art." He exists, and that is the most important thing in these decisions. I can trust him, and follow him, wherever it is he's leading.

Pre-Sales for Coach's Midnight Diner

Hey kids, it's time for your update on Coach's Midnight Diner.

Pre-sales have just opened, meaning that you can get your copy cheaper than the full cover price, just by being early. Sort of like Happy Hour or something.

You can read a description of the stories included here. As you can see they are going to be weird, funny and interesting. I've been chatting with some of the authors online and they are an interesting crew, well worth spending a few hours with.

My story "The Deluge" is also included. It's not funny or weird (at least I don't think it is). But it's a story I put a lot of work into... and some of you did, too.

I think I promised at some point to give the history of that story. And I will, I will. In the meantime, go grab a copy of CMD.

No baby sitar

Last night we went to a concert at church by the band Aradhna. The band was started by a couple of missionary kids, one of whom grew up in Nepal ("eight hours walk from the nearest road") and the other in India.
They perform traditional Indian bhajan devotional music, but with a couple twists: one, every song is about Jesus. And two, in addition to the sitar and traditional drums (not sure what those are called) they also use guitar and electric bass. It's a sort of fusion sound.
It was pretty cool. They've performed all over the world, and have even been asked to perform praise songs to Christ in Hindu temples.
And of course there was free Indian food, which just can't be beat.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

mi papa y yo

We had a great Father's Day last weekend.

"Z" made me this lovely picture at left. That's her and me together, surrounded by hearts. I asked her why I appeared to be shorter than her and she said without hesitation, "Because you're standing farther away." If you look at the post below you can see more of her Father's Day offerings.

"A" picked out some jelly beans for me that came in a #1 Dad container and a bag that said I was the "big cheese."

And Krista made this amazing hardback photo book full of pictures of the kids and stories and funny things they've said taken off the blog. It's a great book, really funny and sweet. She made one for me, one for my dad and one for her dad.

I think it's fair to say that I have the sweetest two little girls in the entire universe. And the greatest wife. Not only fair, but necessary to say. Say it. SAY IT!

I know I already said it. I want you to say it, too.

The Nose Knows

Z made me this Father's Day mask. It's a portrait of me, and it invited a great deal of discussion.

For instance, she was asked why I had such dark skin.

The answer: she didn't have a crayon that was the right color.

Then little sis, A, asked, "Why doesn't he have a nose?" (I actually hadn't noticed)

Z: I don't draw noses.

A: Why not?

Z: I just don't.

Krista and I have subsequently dug up and studied her drawings, and do you know what? She doesn't draw noses. Look at the picture above. She's an artiste. I won't be surprised though, if suddenly in high school art class she starts just drawing noses all the time. A nose on a plate. A nose driving a car. A nose drawing a nose.

Her teacher will say, "What's up with all these noses? Don't you draw the rest of a person?"

Z: No, I only draw noses.

Father's Day Happenin's

We woke up Father's Day and sat around and talked about me being a Dad. That was nice.

Then Krista made strawberry waffles (yum!) and my own exceptional father and mother joined us for that. Then we went off to church, where Pastor John's message was called "Passive Fathers, Wild Sons." Since I don't have any sons I was able to escape without feeling convicted at all... whew! And they gave me free beef jerky.

Then we went to the farmer's market and had Mexican food at this great little stand... this family doesn't have a restaurant, just a stand at the market every weekend. And it's great. Mom and Dad met us for that, too. Hmmm. I've been talking a lot about food lately. Well, tonight I had the perfect dinner: authentic tacos followed by mango sticky rice for dessert. Oh YEAH!

Then the kids waded around in the fountain, some church people came up and tried to share the gospel with us but gave up when I was able to recall eight or nine of the ten commandments (they just immediately assumed I was Christian... maybe I'm Jewish or just well-educated). The ones I forgot, in retrospect, are the ones I have the hardest time with... Keep the Sabbath Holy and Thou Shall Not Kill.

Happy (belated) Father's Day

Happy Father's Day!
I was so busy celebrating myself that I didn't really get a chance to write a little note on my blog about father's day.
Dad... you are a great father. You've taught me to be a man of integrity, to do the things I say I will do, and you've always been great to go to for a listening ear, to get advice or a really terribly bad pun. Or shadow puppets. And of course you taught me how to make the Incredible Hulk go away and let me stay up late to watch "Dr. Who" (thus providing me with my lifelong phobia of giant blood-sucking rocks). And I love watching you with my kids. Thanks for everything you do for me and for my family.
And, for Terry... I've learned a lot from you in a short time about chickens, carpentry, art, car maintenance... the list goes on. Thanks for raising your daughter to be a woman of God, and thanks for being such an involved part of our family. I appreciate you a lot and am glad to be part of your family.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

I think the irony might kill me before Global Warming gets around to it

I saw an SUV today that had been professionally painted across the back to say something to the effect of, "Global Warming is TRUE! Watch the documentary: An inconvenient truth."

I hope that ain't lead paint, pal.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Burn Baby Burn

I worked quite a bit in the yard and garage today, and since the kids were out with their Grandparents and Krista was off exercising, it was time for every Matt to do what was right in his own eyes. Which means, "It's never too early for a Tina's Burrito." So at about ten a.m. I slapped a red hot beef burrito in the microwave, punched in 2:00 and went out to get a bit of work done for a few minutes to return to a perfectly cooked Tina's Burrito, the Friend of the Common Man.

I got caught up in my puttering, though, so I was gone a bit longer than two minutes. And when I came back in from the garage I was met by noxious yellow smoke billowing out of the microwave. The microwave was counting down still from 3:27, which I assume means that I had pressed 20:00 instead of 2:00 and had been cooking my burrito for nearly seventeen minutes.

I quickly turned off the microwave, opened the door, gagged on the putrid smoke, opened all the windows downstairs and set up fans to blow all the smoke outside. I had to go outside because I was choking on the nasty yellow cloud that had once been a tasty burrito. The house looked like it was exhaling after a nice, long drag on a cigarette.

My next thought, of course, was to get pictures for the blog, because you guys are my only friends. So, submitted for your approval, the still-smoking husk of my morning snack:

I picked up the burrito to do away with it and discovered it weighed about half an ounce (apparently I had inhaled the rest of the burrito). So I cut it open and got a look at the inside. It was basically a charcoal briquette.

Which reminds me of a strange movie from my youth, and my favorite quote from said movie, "MOM! DAD! It's evil! Don't touch it!" That was a weird movie. It alters the way you look at severly burnt food. It was a fantasy, a dark comedy (I guess... I was like ten last time I saw it) with a tragic ending.

Unlike the Great Burrito fiasco of '07 which ended happily. Krista came home and laughed about the smoke which she could smell from the driveway. I hacked and coughed for a while but seem to have escaped any sort of poisoning.

And there was one more Tina's burrito in the freezer, which I ate as soon as I had cleaned out the microwave.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

A Parade of Human Nature

The news from Portland, OR this week harps continually on the sticky issue of reserving spots for parades using duct tape (or chalk, or chained up lawn chairs).

Tonight the police commissioner shared that his officers had been called in to help smooth out various altercations. There was violence. Yelling. Children crying. So that people could see a parade of pretty floats made from rose petals.


Today our church had a "teddy bear picnic" where the kids were able to go and take a stuffed animal for a morning of crafts and snacks.

(WARNING: I am about to tell stories about throwing up. If such things offend or sicken you, either don't keep reading or at least turn your head away from the keyboard.)

Except that poor little A started the morning by puking all over herself, so she didn't get to go. It was, as puke stories go, a pretty good one. She was lying on the couch and I could hear her retching and I said, "SIT UP!" but she didn't and she puked on her own face. I felt simultaneously sorry for her and, I must admit, I thought it was sort of funny when she shouted "I got some in my own eye!" as I carried her off to the bathroom.

One of the things you quickly learn as a parent is that vomit is not as bad as you always thought it was. God has created the parenting experience to slowly teach you this. It starts with "spit up" which is another way of saying that the baby is puking up milk. But as puke goes it's pretty inoffensive.

Then one day you are across the room from your kid and you see that she's about to puke. And this bizarre urge takes hold of you to run toward her into firing range, to scoop her up and carry her to a place within the house that will be easier to clean. In fact, if you know it's too late to get her to a toilet, a sink, or some other surface made of porcelain, you cup your hands and try to get as much of the puke as possible onto yourself. The reasoning in the parental brain says, "I could spend hours cleaning vomit from that couch, or ten minutes cleaning it off myself." And this, so near as I can tell, is right thinking.

Anyway, when that magic moment finally happens, when you leap toward your child and let them slather their undigested giblets all over you, something wonderful happens. The Barf Fairy appears and says, "Now you are a True Parent." It's a nice feeling, and in the moment all you really think about is how bad your kid feels. You're sticky, and you stink, and that's okay if for one minute you could make your poor little girl's stomach ache go away.

Of course this is all followed with a great deal of showering in water too hot for a human being to touch on a normal day, and a lot of laundry. This is also followed with the dim certainty that you, yourself are now fated to be sick.

And you are right. One cannot entertain the Barf Fairy without receiving her kind attentions. She has hovered beside my bedside all this long day. Only this evening has she finally flittered away.

Fare thee well, dear Barf Fairy. I hope your journey to the next home is a safe and prosperous one.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Coming Attractions

You might be sick of hearing about it, but my story "The Deluge" is going to be in Coach's Midnight Diner this summer.
Relief Issue 3 is out right now, and my story is in the back as a preview for the Diner. My copy hasn't shown up yet, but I think that my mailman holds all magazines that come for a couple of days so that he can park his little white van-thing in abandoned cul-de-sacs and read before his nap.
That's just a theory, mind you.


You may have seen a post up here for just a few short moments telling you something I wasn't supposed to tell you.

It's one of those "We're in a survey" sort of posts. The kind where I got very excited about what it is we are doing. And then I found out that we're supposed to stay anonymous. So I'm not allowed to simultaneously share with you about this thing and still participate.

So. Maybe after it's done I can put up the post that I just took down. Sorry about that.

In the meantime, feel free to guess. Ha ha ha ha!

Unless you know what it really is, then don't, or I'll get kicked out.

Ooooh, the mystery. This should hold us all over until LOST starts again.

In the meantime, here's something I CAN share with you about that spectacular novel, the Burning Hearts Casino:

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
36,607 / 100,000

Baby steps, as they would say in one of my wife's favorite movies.

In the latest chapter, our hero hides a gun in his hotel room. Ooooh, the excitement! Remember, if you are ever in a thriller or mystery novel or crime novel, DON'T hide guns in your room. It will not end well for you.

What I had for Dinner Last Night

The traditional first post for most bloggers is one in which they say, "I never wanted to be a blogger because people just write about what they had for breakfast."

Then some posts follow in which they describe their breakfasts for several weeks.

And then the traditional last post, which says, "Sorry I haven't posted for a while, but I will be more disciplined about it now."

So I thought I would share what I had for dinner last night.

A bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with whipped cream and fresh Oregon strawberries.

Because I am an adult and can have whatever I want for dinner, that's why.

Saturday, June 09, 2007

Ditch the Waitress

Here's a tip: don't go see the Waitress.

Marketed as a feel-good romance-ish independent film, I guess it might play that way for some people. The woman next to us in the theater said it was "the sweetest movie she had seen in a long time." But then again, maybe she's never been to a movie before.

Kerri Russel plays the titular Waitress. She's pregnant because her hated husband got her drunk and she accidentally had sex with him. Meanwhile, she falls deeply in lust with her new doctor, who she's seeing because, well, she's pregnant. He's married, too. I kept waiting for some moment of redemption where everyone would find happiness or at least stop destroying themselves. It sort of happens by the end, but not in a way that I found remotely satisfying.

The film itself is well done, well acted, well directed. But the story is unpleasant. It's hard to make a comedy about unlikeable people whining about how bad their lives are, and trying to make it better by having sex. Which, as it turns out, doesn't work. The only character I found engaging and likeable was the crotchety old man played by Andy Griffith, who keeps reading imaginary horoscopes to people that says things like, "Even though you have a snake of a husband, you shouldn't be cheating on him." It was good for a couple of laughs. Okay, I liked the guy who did spontaneous poetry, too.

Hey Lost fans... notice anything creepy about the doctor/lust interest? That's right! It's Ethan! Creepy, isn't it? He loves pregnant women, doesn't he? I suppose the sequel to the Waitress will take place on a mysterious island, where Ethan has whisked the Waitress away to bake pies for the Others. And she will keep having flashbacks to her life in the pie shop.

After the movie, Krista said, "Maybe we should have gone to Ocean's 13." Which is saying something, folks. Ocean's 13 is not on our movies-to-see list. My comment was simply, "That was unpleasant."

So I guess you all owe us a thank you. We took a bullet for you. We watched that thing so you don't have to. If you've been thinking about this movie, my suggestion would be that you go to some restaurant and watch the waitresses there for a couple of hours. Chances are good that it will be more entertaining than this movie.

Rated PG-13 for sexual content, language, thematic elements and because the rating people were hoping that children under 13 might be spared from being taken along to this movie and could perhaps live a happier life as a result.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

The Village

Hey all. This is the church we go to here in the great Northwest. It's called Village. My children call it "The Village" but that's a movie, not a church.

The other thing you should know is that the members of the church are referred to as "Villagers" not "Village People".

I noticed that quite a few people are dropping by from Dean's blog, so I thought I'd say hello. Dean's our worship pastor. I was kidding him about writing something about the musical influence of Elton John in his life and he took me all serious and did.

Anyway, for all you Villagers out there, Krista and I attend the 11:30 service. Drop by and say hello, we'd love to meet you.


p.s. Here's our pastor's blog.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Poets Laureate: Revisited

Long-time readers of the Burning Hearts Revolution will recall last fall's epic contest to name poets laureate for every state of the Union which lacked them.

An anonymous poet left a message today on a completely unrelated post reminding me that I had not done right by our beleagured poets in that I had not provided several things promised to them: 1) I had not sent the winning poets the official certificate of Poet-Laureateness, 2) It appeared that certain poets had not had their work posted and 3) they suspected I had not sent letters of commendation to the governors of their states.

And all these things were true.

I have, as they rightly pointed out, done them a great service in many ways by my gross negligence. One, I have given them a treasure trove of bitterness and hatred to nurse into wonderful poems. Perhaps they will go on to achieve fame because of this. Also, I have taught them the valuable lesson that poets should expect to live in cold doorways between buildings during freezing winters, hands trembling as they write their celestial lines upon crumpled bits of newspaper. Such is the glorious life of the poet.

In any case, spurred to action by the no-doubt unmedicated rage of my poets, I have finished all of the awards tonight, and have posted the last of the poems I received permission to post (some winners never got back to me).

The awards need only to be placed in the mail now, which I would say will happen tomorrow but such a dire task could take as long as a week. I have even signed the documents in question and a dear friend of the Poets Laureate movement agreed to sign as a witness. I think you will be pleased to see this special friend's signature!

In any case, my obligation to you as poets will be done at that point and I can move on to a more thankless task than this noble undertaking. I understand your ill will, dear poets, and can only ask that you leave your vicious ventings in the comments section, preferably in verse and without cursing or anonymity.

In the meantime, please enjoy all our poets laureate. Long may they reign in verbose glory.

For those of you who missed all the fun earlier, here are the winners, their bios and poems:

Arizona: Michelle Lawrence Down Reflection
Massachusetts: Eva Ting Open Casket
Missouri: Rob E You Must Be Misstaken
New Jersey: Jill James Puberty
New Mexico: Kasey Martin Spun
Ohio: T.M. Baird The Flock
Pennsylvania: Adam Struble What Crazed Eyes Have Already Seen
Washington: Alexis Youngs I Used to Love My State of Origin But Now I Have My Doubts

Kasey Martin, Poet Laureate of New Mexico

Kasey Martin was born and raised in southern California. He currently resides in Kentucky while attending Seminary at Asbury. Mr. Martin has never lived in New Mexico, but believes it to be a lovely state to drive through whether on one's way to Oklahoma to visit family, or Kentucky to go to seminary. He says, "To be fair, it's lovely at sunrise but it's actually kind of annoying driving through downtown Albuquerque in the middle of the night because I-40 is eternally under construction."
The picture on left is from Mr. Martin's wedding day. He wanted to have a crown since his wife was allowed a tiara. She allowed him this one picture with his crown.

For more of Mr. Martin's work, visit the poetry blog of his seminary, or his personal blog.

Spun by Kasey Martin, Poet Laureate of New Mexico

Spin whiskey to me in the cold, deep hills of
Kentucky. Smokey minds lie hidden and beyond my eyes.
I still can't see, can't hold, can't breathe, can't
be. Spin memories in this broken hull of life. This
fodder of hope and wonder of anything now called free.
It's too dim to dance, I'm too thread-bare to carry,
but I'm free and so indeed. Indeed, but too dumb to
care it seems, or notice truth before me, some hope
right beside my not yet healthy mind. Forgotten in
the deepness I am, weary from the travels and falls;
from all hope, from any dream of me and my mind
half-baked and drying in the sun. Bring back this
common interest, this quick blinding sun in moonlight.
Fast shadows fall double-quick in time. I'm here,
I'm out, I'm dreaming in the cold Kentucky hills, in
the fast, still-born washes of the deepest back wood.
This is just the flow, the in-breaking rush of
water-light, like a watershed memory in time. A
matchstick memory smooth and quick and flicked to
burst forth light in all and less of me.

Adam Struble, Poet Laureate of Pennsylvania

Adam Struble is a musician, songwriter, poet, stonemason, and a thinker. He is very interested in Neitzche and Aleister Crowley, as well as Bob Dylan and the Beats. Mr. Struble has lived in D.C., New York City, Maryland, the forests of Pennsylvania,and Portland, Oregon. He travels habitually, never staying in one place for very long. He is always trying to make his mark on his environment and the people around him.

For another look inside Adam's head, check out his MySpace.

what crazed eyes have already seen by Adam Struble, Poet Laureate of Pennsylvania

what crazed eyes have already seen
the end of things
wet green eyed forest,
the blood of birth and death
and the ever present possibility of dying alone
and in these last hours
the rite of passage
dancing on the edge of oblivion
kiss the rain and taste continuity
feeling flooding over us like dying

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Movie Review: Music and Lyrics

Krista and I rented Music and Lyrics last night. Or rather, I rented, we watched.

Do you remember the good old days, when British rock, synthesizers and pop ruled? Have you ever owned a "Wham!" album (or wished that you did)? Do you like jokes about Debbie Gibson and Tiffany? Then you will think this film is radical. :P

Krista and I both enjoyed this movie. Drew Barrymore was her usual self. And Hugh Grant was somehow, inexplicably, likeable and charming. How did that happen?

Hugh Grant plays the washed out former member of an eighties band. He can't write songs worth listening to anymore. He gets a chance to submit a song to a famous performer, but he has to write it within a week. He discovers that Drew Barrymore has a gift for lyrics, and soon they are chained to his piano, trying to put together a song that will reignite his career. Of course they will fall in love. Oops, spoiler. Sorry about that.

Krista compared this movie to eating candy. In other words, fun but with no nutrition. She meant it in a good way, though. We all like candy, right? It was a fun, goofy movie. It's not "Footloose" but hey, what movie is able to take on a comparison like that?

RATED PG-13 for sexual content. SPOILER: They have sex. Under the piano. That's right. Under the piano. But it's tamer than some television, folks. ANOTHER SPOILER AND A COMPLAINT: You know, I think that someone should get married at the end of a comedy. This is how we know it's a comedy. In fact, any single person in the movie should get married at the end. So we know everyone's happy. And if it's a tragedy, let's see some dead people. In fact, kill 'em all. Unless it would be more tragic to have someone left alive and feeling sad about all the dead people. That would be acceptable. All that to say, no one dead, no one married at the end of this thing. Is it a tragedy? A comedy? We are left to guess for ourselves.

Family Ties

My daughter A likes to give everyone little nicknames. Z is "sissy" and Krista is "Mimi" and I'm, uh, well, "Doodoo." Z has started calling me doodoo also. It's a name that sticks.

Thank you, Walt Disney

Me: True or False? The word dinosaur means "friendly people."

Z: False. Some of the dinosaurs were friendly and some of them weren't.

Friday, June 01, 2007


Check out the raptor cam.

Some red-tailed hawks built a nest on a fire escape in Portland, and the local news has set up a camera. You can't, obviously, see anything at night.

The chicks should be ready to fly in the next couple of days, so check it out while you can!

Chipping Away

Krista went off to play BUNKO at the church tonight. I told Z that Krista was going to a woman's night at church and she said, "Is it because it's almost Father's Day?" I like the idea that the women of the church are secretly plotting something for Father's Day. I wonder what it is they're up to?

Since Krista was out for the night, I spent a little time working on the novel. After the kids were settled, of course.

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
34,580 / 100,000

Go, go, go!

At this rate I'll be done one day.


Sometimes listening to the right song is a mini-devotional for me. It sets my heart in the right place, and shifts my focus to the Person it should be on. Here's a snip from the song that's doing it for me today:

I want to see miracles
To see the world changed
To wrestle the angel
For more than a name
For more than a feeling
More than a cause
I’m singing, Spirit, take me up in arms with you
And you’re raising the dead in me…