I mentioned a story about Ninja Monkeys last week, and it was wisely pointed out that I had put the wrong link in the story. I tried to fix it but was having trouble because the internet of New Zealand hates monkeys. It's true. If you are in New Zealand and search for monkeys, nothing will come up on your search.
ANYWAY, here is the real article, in which a man in China is attacked by the very monkeys which he has trained. It is tragic.
Also... racist? Notice that the Chinese monkeys who have learned a Korean martial art (taekwondo is their martial art of choice according to the article) are referred to as ninjas... the famous Japanese assassins. Hmmm. Now the veracity of the article has been thrown into doubt. Please ellucidate in the comments section.
When we lived in Asia my wife disliked the Monkey Beggars. They would come with their monkeys on a rope and make the monkeys do flips and tricks. I always thought they were cool. And I thought it was funny when a man would jump into a taxi with his monkey. I always suspected they were zoo workers who made a little extra on the weekends after hours. Krista was always worried the monkeys would bite the children or do some other primate thing which would be upsetting. So one day when I saw the monkey beggers all gathered behind a restaurant taking a smoke break with their monkeys I went over and asked them if I gave them twenty bucks, would they stay away from my wife from now on... and after that any time they saw her coming, they walked to the other side of the street. Which I thought was pretty nice of them. Of course, I did give them twenty bucks, too.
In conclusion, despite the fact that they use their mixed martial arts to attack their own masters, monkeys are awesome.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Lessons I Learned at the Roller Rink with My Daughters
This week was roller rink madness for the children, and I went along to observe and learn. Here are some of my lessons:
1. It's got to be about the roller skating.
All the way to the rink the kids kept begging me to skate with them. But as they talked more and more about how many of their friends would be there, and how much better they are at skating than me, I started to have a sinking suspicion about something.
Me: Are you guys going to ditch me as soon as we get there?
Kids: Yes!
Me: So, if I rent roller skates and go out there, you guys are going to leave me to skate by myself?
A: It's just that you aren't that good, Dad.
Z: And all our friends are going to be there.
Me: In other words, you're planning to ditch me.
Kids: Right!
2. The race is not won by the swift, but by the medium swift with good listening skills.
During a classic game of "Red Light, Green Light" the seventeen year old announcer (we'll call him Billy) cleverly removed all the best skaters from the game by saying things like, "If you rented your skates today take three steps forward" and then sending them back to the beginning because he didn't say "Green Light." All three of the winning kids were in the medium range of skaters and followed directions precisely. They had learned to skate in such a way as to not be disqualified.
3. Dig Dug is still fun.
The arcade game Dig Dug, in which a burrowing burrower destroys monsters which can turn into ghosts by dropping rocks on them or pumping them up with a bicycle pump. It's ridiculous, and would never stand up to the complex games of today, but the fact is that if I had ten bucks worth of quarters I could have emptied my pockets into that arcade game while my kids were skating. Ah, vanished youth! Return to us with your crazy video games!
4. Soundtrack, Lighting and Timing matter more than stern lectures.
About halfway through the evening, the owner of the roller rink got into the Deejay's box, took hold of the mike, cut the music and announced that SOMEONE IS CALLING 911 FROM THE PAYPHONES! She informed the children that the police had called the roller rink, and that if anyone was caught calling 911 they would be PROSECUTED! Also, the school principal would be informed.
About half a second after she turned the microphone back to our seventeen year old Deejay, Billy, he turned off the lights, turned on the strobe lights and disco ball and turned on Michael Jackson's THRILLER. An enormous cheer came up from the crowd, must too quickly after what had been a chastened silence and we suddenly all realized that Billy was saying that whoever had called 911 was a hero*, because there was an emergency, because if you weren't here in the flickering light of the disco ball and celebrating 1980's pop music then you were missing out, you were somehow lesser than us, and that was cause for concern, and for now we just wanted to say, while skating in circles over and over, "Because it's Thriller, Thriller night..."**
* Billy was wrong of course. Calling 911 frivilously is stupid and can cause a lot of damange in addition to getting you jail time. Don't do it!
** No, I have no idea how a bunch of grade schoolers knew this song. But they did.
1. It's got to be about the roller skating.
All the way to the rink the kids kept begging me to skate with them. But as they talked more and more about how many of their friends would be there, and how much better they are at skating than me, I started to have a sinking suspicion about something.
Me: Are you guys going to ditch me as soon as we get there?
Kids: Yes!
Me: So, if I rent roller skates and go out there, you guys are going to leave me to skate by myself?
A: It's just that you aren't that good, Dad.
Z: And all our friends are going to be there.
Me: In other words, you're planning to ditch me.
Kids: Right!
2. The race is not won by the swift, but by the medium swift with good listening skills.
During a classic game of "Red Light, Green Light" the seventeen year old announcer (we'll call him Billy) cleverly removed all the best skaters from the game by saying things like, "If you rented your skates today take three steps forward" and then sending them back to the beginning because he didn't say "Green Light." All three of the winning kids were in the medium range of skaters and followed directions precisely. They had learned to skate in such a way as to not be disqualified.
3. Dig Dug is still fun.
The arcade game Dig Dug, in which a burrowing burrower destroys monsters which can turn into ghosts by dropping rocks on them or pumping them up with a bicycle pump. It's ridiculous, and would never stand up to the complex games of today, but the fact is that if I had ten bucks worth of quarters I could have emptied my pockets into that arcade game while my kids were skating. Ah, vanished youth! Return to us with your crazy video games!
4. Soundtrack, Lighting and Timing matter more than stern lectures.
About halfway through the evening, the owner of the roller rink got into the Deejay's box, took hold of the mike, cut the music and announced that SOMEONE IS CALLING 911 FROM THE PAYPHONES! She informed the children that the police had called the roller rink, and that if anyone was caught calling 911 they would be PROSECUTED! Also, the school principal would be informed.
About half a second after she turned the microphone back to our seventeen year old Deejay, Billy, he turned off the lights, turned on the strobe lights and disco ball and turned on Michael Jackson's THRILLER. An enormous cheer came up from the crowd, must too quickly after what had been a chastened silence and we suddenly all realized that Billy was saying that whoever had called 911 was a hero*, because there was an emergency, because if you weren't here in the flickering light of the disco ball and celebrating 1980's pop music then you were missing out, you were somehow lesser than us, and that was cause for concern, and for now we just wanted to say, while skating in circles over and over, "Because it's Thriller, Thriller night..."**
* Billy was wrong of course. Calling 911 frivilously is stupid and can cause a lot of damange in addition to getting you jail time. Don't do it!
** No, I have no idea how a bunch of grade schoolers knew this song. But they did.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
More pictures from New Zealand
If all goes as planned, this post should appear while I am zipping over the ocean on my way home. Enjoy.
These gentlemen may actually be Tongan. There was a conference celebrating YWAM's anniversary immediately before ours, and I snuck in and took a few pictures.
These gentlemen may actually be Tongan. There was a conference celebrating YWAM's anniversary immediately before ours, and I snuck in and took a few pictures.
Kiwi fruit actually grows on a vine, like grapes. They grow various shrubs as windscreens, because the wind will knock them off the vine. When it's time to harvest they walk under the vine with a big bag attached to their chests, and they pick the fruit and place it in the bag. I had no idea.
In addition to kiwi fruit, I ate plenty of fish and chips while in Tauranga. Near my hotel was a little shack where fishermen sold their fish, and then the people at the shack would sell customers the fish... raw or like the picture above. I chose fried.
After the conference was over I walked up to Mount Maunganui. As you can see from the yellow sign in the foreground, you have to be careful if you try to drive over the hill, and a strict speed limit is enforced.
Unless you're in my immediate family I won't subject you to all the pictures I took, but it really was a beautiful walk.
Here's a picture of a fellow hiker on the trail.
Here's the view from the top.
And here's the view from the trail that goes around the base.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Imaginary Jesus cover in depth...
Some of the things I really love about the cover to Imaginary Jesus are -- hey, wait a second -- where did that squirrel come from? Shoo! Get out of here!
Sigh.
Never mind. Stupid squirrel.
Sigh.
Never mind. Stupid squirrel.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Eavesdropping With Matt (Episode Forty: Eat, Work and Be Merry)
Dedicated to the kind, friendly lady at my local grocery store.
Lady: Why you buy so much food? You make me hungry!
Me: My friend just moved to a new town to set up his business, he doesn't have a car and he misses his family. I thought I'd send him a package.
Lady: So nice! You tell him, work hard and he no miss his family! Tell him, eat first, then work hard, he no miss them. It all be okay.
Me: Okay, I will.
So... eat first, work hard and you'll be fine. Also, I didn't send your package before my trip. I'll send it when I get back. Um. Sorry.
Lady: Why you buy so much food? You make me hungry!
Me: My friend just moved to a new town to set up his business, he doesn't have a car and he misses his family. I thought I'd send him a package.
Lady: So nice! You tell him, work hard and he no miss his family! Tell him, eat first, then work hard, he no miss them. It all be okay.
Me: Okay, I will.
So... eat first, work hard and you'll be fine. Also, I didn't send your package before my trip. I'll send it when I get back. Um. Sorry.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Call2All
No doubt you're wondering what exactly I'm doing in New Zealand... I'm speaking at a conference called Call2All.
I'll be speaking about unreached, unengaged people groups, which, for those of you who don't speak missionary-talk, means people in the world who have less than a 2% population of Christians ("unreached") and/or have no full time Christian workers who have "adopted" them as a people group to take the story of Christ to them ("unengaged').
There are six basic premises of the Call2All organization, and they are:
I'll be speaking about unreached, unengaged people groups, which, for those of you who don't speak missionary-talk, means people in the world who have less than a 2% population of Christians ("unreached") and/or have no full time Christian workers who have "adopted" them as a people group to take the story of Christ to them ("unengaged').
There are six basic premises of the Call2All organization, and they are:
#1 Global Prayer – The basic idea here being that telling people about God mustn't be a human endeavor only, but that God is the central reason, cause and power behind it, and we are his co-workers in it.
#2 Mapping the Great Commission -- Trying to get reliable, accurate information about where the Church exists and where there continues to be a need.
#3 Unengaged, Unreached People Groups – There are still about 3,000 groups that don’t have access to church or missionaries or any (human) interaction that would tell them about Christ.
#4 Orality & The Oral Bible – There are still roughly 2,251 language groups that don't have even one verse of the Bible translated in their own language. So part of Call2All is a strategy to use story and oral translations of 50-60 stories in each of these languages that will sort of "fill in the gap" until a written Bible can be translated and produced.
#5 Church-Planting -- Not in the sense of building denominations or anything like that, but in the sense of building up the national believers into their own coherent reflection of Christ-followers in community.
#6 Evangelism – I know this is going to infuriate some of my not-Christian friends out there, and embarrass some of my Christian friends, but the fact is that telling other people about Jesus boldly is a necessary and (in fact) loving expression of a healthy relationship with Jesus. And we won't get to those other 3,000 groups without evangelism. So there it is.
There you go... that's what I'm up to this week, instead of passing along links to Ninja Monkeys from Ken Cheung. Aha! And yet, there is the link to ninja monkeys. Could it be that I have now had my cake and am also eating it?
Even though I don't typically like cake.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Eavesdropping With Matt (Episode Thirty-Nine: In Which They Bury His Ashes)
Dedicated to the fine gentlemen who frequent the comic book shop near my neighborhood, which is run purely because the owner has a lot of money and wanted a hobby, which is the same business. I walked in to see if I could find a good comic to take on my business trip (I didn't find one on my limited schedule... maybe because I was busy eavesdropping).
Owner: I picked up his ashes today.
Customer: You had him CREMATED?
Owner: Yeah. He wanted to bury him in the yard, but I just couldn't do that.
Customer: I have, like, four buried in my yard.
Owner: Yeah, but we have dogs. They would dig it up.
Customer: So sad.
Owner: Yeah. He was a good cat.
(long pause)
Customer: One of my co-workers died of a brain tumor yesterday.
Owner: Well, you totally trumped me.
Customer: I wasn't trying to trump you.
Owner: Well, you did. That's a lot sadder than my cat.
Owner: I picked up his ashes today.
Customer: You had him CREMATED?
Owner: Yeah. He wanted to bury him in the yard, but I just couldn't do that.
Customer: I have, like, four buried in my yard.
Owner: Yeah, but we have dogs. They would dig it up.
Customer: So sad.
Owner: Yeah. He was a good cat.
(long pause)
Customer: One of my co-workers died of a brain tumor yesterday.
Owner: Well, you totally trumped me.
Customer: I wasn't trying to trump you.
Owner: Well, you did. That's a lot sadder than my cat.
Monday, January 18, 2010
First Look at New Zealand
My plane from Auckland to Tauranga was the smallest plane I've been on since I was about 14. We all wedged in with our carry ons for footrests, put our knees comfortably around our ears and watched the pilot work his magic.
And why, I wonder, do we use the word YIELD in the USA when clearly no one knows what it means?
Nothing quite as creepy as a tooth with teeth.
And why, I wonder, do we use the word YIELD in the USA when clearly no one knows what it means?
Not sure what these are, but they were tied up in several of the trees. Some sort of ornamentation? Preventative? I have no idea. Someone want to fill me in?
A short walk from my hotel is a sort of monument to the original settlers of New Zealand, who were explorers from Hawaii, apparently. There were a few different strands or tribes who ended up here. The rock in the back is meant to signify, I think, the giant stones they brought from their home to bring the "life force" with them. They also had a plaque naming the leaders of each group, who they represented, and who the spirit guide was for each of them.
In the harbor between my hotel and where I are my fish and chips for dinner.
Nothing quite as creepy as a tooth with teeth.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
First Book of the Trip...
One of the most difficult preparations for a long journey is choosing the correct books to take along. It has to be something amazing that will hold my attention for a long time, and hopefully this amazing-ness will be balanced out by the book not being too heavy. But it has to be heavy enough not to be a half hour read, it needs to have a few hours of life in it, at least.
The first choice for this particular trip is performing very well indeed. I'm 200 pages in and loving it. It's Nick Hornby's Juliet, Naked . Hornby has an amazing skill to juggle humor, deft characterization, deep insights into music and art and also a real understanding of how people act and why. It's been a really entertaining read so far.
Also, the cover is awesome. I was staring at it for quite a while before it suddenly hit me that it was more than just a set of ear buds.
The first choice for this particular trip is performing very well indeed. I'm 200 pages in and loving it. It's Nick Hornby's Juliet, Naked . Hornby has an amazing skill to juggle humor, deft characterization, deep insights into music and art and also a real understanding of how people act and why. It's been a really entertaining read so far.
Also, the cover is awesome. I was staring at it for quite a while before it suddenly hit me that it was more than just a set of ear buds.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
The Traditional Aiport Post: NAZIS!
At the airport this morning I had to wait in line. I am not accustomed to this because of how much I travel. I am usually whisked to the front, politely acknowledged, frisked, and then sent off to never be spoken to again. It's not unlike a blind date in that sense. However, today, I had to stand in line.
Directly in front of me were two polite and soft spoken African American gentlemen. And directly behind me was a loud, brash, outspoken man with a big swastika tattooed on his forearm. Of course, in an attempt by the author to make the Nazi seem worthy of our compassion, the Nazi was trying to help his mother get her ticket changed for her flight. On the other hand, there was a lot of unpleasant tones of voice passing between mom and son. On a third hand, if I can be allowed a third hand, he had almost certainly parked his Harley in the garage and carried his mom and her luggage from the bike into the airport. And no, I am not making fun of Harleys, he just happened to have one and I could tell that because he said so.
NOW TO THE ACTION... I know you are waiting for that sudden fistfight that will break out, where the Nazis and the understandably upset African American gentlemen will start fighting one another, and I will stand between them yelling about racial reconciliation and how we're genetically nearly identical and how race is a construct created for ease of generalities in the scientific community. But instead, everyone stood in line, civil as mice, willing the airline employees to work harder, faster, and better so they could solve all our problems and take away our baggage and wish us a bon voyage.
There wasn't a fight or anything. C'mon, people, it's not a t.v. show, this is real life.
THE END
Directly in front of me were two polite and soft spoken African American gentlemen. And directly behind me was a loud, brash, outspoken man with a big swastika tattooed on his forearm. Of course, in an attempt by the author to make the Nazi seem worthy of our compassion, the Nazi was trying to help his mother get her ticket changed for her flight. On the other hand, there was a lot of unpleasant tones of voice passing between mom and son. On a third hand, if I can be allowed a third hand, he had almost certainly parked his Harley in the garage and carried his mom and her luggage from the bike into the airport. And no, I am not making fun of Harleys, he just happened to have one and I could tell that because he said so.
NOW TO THE ACTION... I know you are waiting for that sudden fistfight that will break out, where the Nazis and the understandably upset African American gentlemen will start fighting one another, and I will stand between them yelling about racial reconciliation and how we're genetically nearly identical and how race is a construct created for ease of generalities in the scientific community. But instead, everyone stood in line, civil as mice, willing the airline employees to work harder, faster, and better so they could solve all our problems and take away our baggage and wish us a bon voyage.
There wasn't a fight or anything. C'mon, people, it's not a t.v. show, this is real life.
THE END
Thursday, January 14, 2010
In which a child is wearing a faux coonskin cap, to my pleasure and his chagrin
Dropping my girls off at school, I noticed a young man wearing a faux coonskin cap, set at a jaunty angle upon his head. It reminded me of my own youth, of a strange little (actually functioning) horn made to look like it came off an animal, and of Disneyland which is, I think, where I got my own coonskin cap (faux save for the tail which was REAL and no, it never occurred to me at the time that there was a maimed raccoon out there, sitting on someone's back fence and lamenting his lack of a striped tail). Strangely, I had been singing the "Davy Crockett" theme song to myself only the day before (or, that is to say, I had been singing the phrases I remembered so that it sounded like this: "something something something something, killed him a 'bar' when he was only three...").
In any case, as I passed the young lad with the mammal-inspired cap I casually said, "Great hat. It's really cool."
And the boy's face fell. I could tell I had ruined his whole day. It was one of those moments where you can see a phone book length missive written in the disappointed eyes of a child, and I knew that several topics he was dealing with included: why a lame old man thought his hat was cool; I thought I was going to be a rebel wearing fur this close to Portland and now I am being encouraged by an authority figure for my act of daring; and, not least by any stretch, oh no have I made a terrible wardrobe choice and will my friends mock me instead of giving me an amazing nickname like Coonskin Cody.
I wanted to grab the kid and tell him it was going to be alright and that he could always take the hat off, but you and I both know that once you wear the coonskin hat into class you have to wear it all the way home. There's no backing out.
So, kid, if you're out there, I hope you had a great day and were universally praised by your peers for your coonskin hat. And if they mocked you and made fun of the hat, don't be ashamed. Don't give them that power over you! Wear your hat proudly, and, if you can, take it a step farther. Get a pet raccoon and take it to school. They won't be making fun of you then. It's not too late, you can still turn this into a reservoir of cool the likes of which will cause them to the remember you from the fourth grade to the retirement home. I was proud to see your genesis, Coonskin Cody.
In any case, as I passed the young lad with the mammal-inspired cap I casually said, "Great hat. It's really cool."
And the boy's face fell. I could tell I had ruined his whole day. It was one of those moments where you can see a phone book length missive written in the disappointed eyes of a child, and I knew that several topics he was dealing with included: why a lame old man thought his hat was cool; I thought I was going to be a rebel wearing fur this close to Portland and now I am being encouraged by an authority figure for my act of daring; and, not least by any stretch, oh no have I made a terrible wardrobe choice and will my friends mock me instead of giving me an amazing nickname like Coonskin Cody.
I wanted to grab the kid and tell him it was going to be alright and that he could always take the hat off, but you and I both know that once you wear the coonskin hat into class you have to wear it all the way home. There's no backing out.
So, kid, if you're out there, I hope you had a great day and were universally praised by your peers for your coonskin hat. And if they mocked you and made fun of the hat, don't be ashamed. Don't give them that power over you! Wear your hat proudly, and, if you can, take it a step farther. Get a pet raccoon and take it to school. They won't be making fun of you then. It's not too late, you can still turn this into a reservoir of cool the likes of which will cause them to the remember you from the fourth grade to the retirement home. I was proud to see your genesis, Coonskin Cody.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Link It Up
You have been breathlessly waiting, I know, for the February issue of Writer's Digest, which features a brief interview with yours truly. Well, here it is. Also included is a lengthy interview with Sue Grafton. You can see a longer, different version of my interview here, on Chuck Sambuchino's blog.
Other recent mentions of Imaginary Jesus include this post about Imaginary Jesus versus vampires and a paragraph long review of the book here (spoiler: he likes it!). Two other reviews from my friends, Andy and Coach. That's right, Coach. And in case you missed it, check out the short story by Adam Sabados, "Imaginary Road Trip". Part One. Part Two.
And, yes, I know, many of you are still behind on your Christmas gifts and you would like two things: a link to where you can buy Imaginary Jesus, and instructions on how to wrap a cat. Well, there you go!
Other recent mentions of Imaginary Jesus include this post about Imaginary Jesus versus vampires and a paragraph long review of the book here (spoiler: he likes it!). Two other reviews from my friends, Andy and Coach. That's right, Coach. And in case you missed it, check out the short story by Adam Sabados, "Imaginary Road Trip". Part One. Part Two.
And, yes, I know, many of you are still behind on your Christmas gifts and you would like two things: a link to where you can buy Imaginary Jesus, and instructions on how to wrap a cat. Well, there you go!
Monday, January 11, 2010
A Difference between Us as Experienced Parents and Us as New Parents
I've noticed as an experienced parent with a new baby that there are subtle changes in the way we parent.
For instance, yesterday I took charge of the baby for a short time and while I was with her she had a spectacular "blow out." For those who are experienced parents, you will know what this means. For those who have not spent sufficient time with infants to know what I am referring to, suffice it to say that it makes the noise of a blown out tire, but is significantly messier. After the typical struggle at the diaper changing station, which is public restrooms invariably is adorned with paintings of cartoon koalas for some inexplicable reason, she and I emerged, cleaned up, wearing new clothing, and ready for a bath.
And when Krista walked up to us she said something significantly different than what I remembered from our less experienced days. In the old days she would have said, "Why does the baby have poop on her face?" Which was, indeed, the case. This sort of question is a deep longing to understand the underlying reason that something from so far away from one's forehead can make the journey across that vast emptiness to arrive on a child's sweet face. It is the sort of question which assumes that, perhaps, it is the father's fault... the child was left in his care, after all, and during the Great Handoff the child was clear of excrement on her face and, actually, in any external location. And now, possibly due to the inept caretaking of the beleaguered father, that has all changed.
But that is not what my wife said to me at that moment, yesterday. No. She said, "There is poop on the baby's face." A statement, not a question. Which is to say, I am sure that the baby was covered in an explosion of digested milk, and that she, no doubt, stuck her feet in it, then grabbed her feet, then touched her face. This happens. It is to be expected. And I imagine that while you were trying to keep the baby on the koala changing station, and frantically juggling baby wipes and clean diapers and a dirty diaper and changing clothes, that the baby did this without your notice.
And that is the difference, I suppose. The question "Why is there poop?" versus the simple statement, "There is poop, and in abundance."
Ahhh, yes. We grow up so fast.
That is all for tonight.
For instance, yesterday I took charge of the baby for a short time and while I was with her she had a spectacular "blow out." For those who are experienced parents, you will know what this means. For those who have not spent sufficient time with infants to know what I am referring to, suffice it to say that it makes the noise of a blown out tire, but is significantly messier. After the typical struggle at the diaper changing station, which is public restrooms invariably is adorned with paintings of cartoon koalas for some inexplicable reason, she and I emerged, cleaned up, wearing new clothing, and ready for a bath.
And when Krista walked up to us she said something significantly different than what I remembered from our less experienced days. In the old days she would have said, "Why does the baby have poop on her face?" Which was, indeed, the case. This sort of question is a deep longing to understand the underlying reason that something from so far away from one's forehead can make the journey across that vast emptiness to arrive on a child's sweet face. It is the sort of question which assumes that, perhaps, it is the father's fault... the child was left in his care, after all, and during the Great Handoff the child was clear of excrement on her face and, actually, in any external location. And now, possibly due to the inept caretaking of the beleaguered father, that has all changed.
But that is not what my wife said to me at that moment, yesterday. No. She said, "There is poop on the baby's face." A statement, not a question. Which is to say, I am sure that the baby was covered in an explosion of digested milk, and that she, no doubt, stuck her feet in it, then grabbed her feet, then touched her face. This happens. It is to be expected. And I imagine that while you were trying to keep the baby on the koala changing station, and frantically juggling baby wipes and clean diapers and a dirty diaper and changing clothes, that the baby did this without your notice.
And that is the difference, I suppose. The question "Why is there poop?" versus the simple statement, "There is poop, and in abundance."
Ahhh, yes. We grow up so fast.
That is all for tonight.
Friday, January 08, 2010
More Dreams
Psychology students, please refrain from using this on your thesis papers.
Last night I had another weird dream. I don't know why I'm having more dreams recently, but I'm guessing it's because Baby M has been waking up a little more often.
But the dream went like this:
I was walking down a very long, straight stairway when I heard the tap, tap, tapping of feet behind me. And not just feet, but feet wearing tap shoes. I turned around to look and at my eye level were two women's shoes. "Are those tap shoes?" I asked and the woman said yes and that I could look at one. So I took one shoe off her foot and was surprised at how heavy it was. I turned it over in my hand and looked at the metal plates on it. Then I looked up at the woman and saw that she was wearing a Nazi uniform. I wasn't scared or upset, I just wondered if she was wearing it because she was a Nazi or because she was in a show or something. One way, of course, would be frightening and the other would be hilarious. And I wasn't sure which way to react.
Then I woke up.
Last night I had another weird dream. I don't know why I'm having more dreams recently, but I'm guessing it's because Baby M has been waking up a little more often.
But the dream went like this:
I was walking down a very long, straight stairway when I heard the tap, tap, tapping of feet behind me. And not just feet, but feet wearing tap shoes. I turned around to look and at my eye level were two women's shoes. "Are those tap shoes?" I asked and the woman said yes and that I could look at one. So I took one shoe off her foot and was surprised at how heavy it was. I turned it over in my hand and looked at the metal plates on it. Then I looked up at the woman and saw that she was wearing a Nazi uniform. I wasn't scared or upset, I just wondered if she was wearing it because she was a Nazi or because she was in a show or something. One way, of course, would be frightening and the other would be hilarious. And I wasn't sure which way to react.
Then I woke up.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
News From My Neighborhood: New Year Edition
Ding Dong Ditch the Sweater. The doorbell rang late the other night, and I walked over to the front door, flung it open (I like to fling things) and discovered... a pile of clothes. Having been raised on Star Wars, my first thought was that someone had been stabbed with a light saber and then become one with the Force. But since more recent continuity has made it clear how rare this actually is, I decided to inspect more closely. I discovered that it was not a pile of clothes, but rather one aqua-colored sweater, with little flecks of other colors spread about in a 1980's style. All around the sweater were little notes written in a childish hand that said things like, "It's the new year, do what you want" and "here is a sweater, you are welcome." And I thought about how innovative kids are these days, and so caring, that instead of ringing your doorbell and running away, that they would ring your doorbell, leave you some sort of inexplicable junk and run away. And I also thought about my Ukranian neighbor, who is very nice, who will reach into his closet later this month and hesitate and wonder, where is my sweater from the 1980's? And then he will walk outside to get in his car, and look over and see me, and notice how I have a sweater like his missing one, but it looks like it might be too tight, like I have one that is maybe too small for me. And he will think, I always liked that sweater and the last time I saw it my six-year-old had it, and by then I will be in my car driving away and he will look at my retreating vehicle and think, it is a mystery how clothes just disappear in this country. A mystery.
The Race Card. When I walk the kids to school it's impossible to say who will join us. It all depends on how various families are doing at getting the kids ready to leave, and a little thing like eating pop tarts instead of oatmeal can mean that they are walking at a different time than us. This week a six year old girl and her nine year old brother have been joining us. The girl told me that she was a much faster runner than her brother.
Boy: I could beat you in a race right now.
Me: Uh-oh, a race.
Boy: C'mon, sis, right now.
(He sets himself up at a crack in the sidewalk. He is determined. The girl looks at him and a serious look settles in on her face. She tightens the straps on her back pack. And then... BOOOOOM she races past him. He leaps into action but can't quite catch up. She completely destroys him by making it to the end of the block a full two seconds ahead of him).
Boy: I was just jogging. Also my knee hurts. I twisted my ankle. You started before me. I am a faster runner than you. I could beat you in a race right now. I'm tired.
The Race Card. When I walk the kids to school it's impossible to say who will join us. It all depends on how various families are doing at getting the kids ready to leave, and a little thing like eating pop tarts instead of oatmeal can mean that they are walking at a different time than us. This week a six year old girl and her nine year old brother have been joining us. The girl told me that she was a much faster runner than her brother.
Boy: I could beat you in a race right now.
Me: Uh-oh, a race.
Boy: C'mon, sis, right now.
(He sets himself up at a crack in the sidewalk. He is determined. The girl looks at him and a serious look settles in on her face. She tightens the straps on her back pack. And then... BOOOOOM she races past him. He leaps into action but can't quite catch up. She completely destroys him by making it to the end of the block a full two seconds ahead of him).
Boy: I was just jogging. Also my knee hurts. I twisted my ankle. You started before me. I am a faster runner than you. I could beat you in a race right now. I'm tired.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Pulled Over By the Cops!
Monday night I was driving the kids home from swim practice when I saw the blue and red lights in my rearview mirror that mean that you have done something wrong. The kids, of course, were thrilled and worried.
The officer informed me that my tags were two months overdue to be renewed, which I didn't realize... must have somehow missed the letter from the DOL. I tried to get out my license and registration and insurance and only managed to produce the license. Of course the registration was expired. And for some reason I could only find the old insurance card, too. I did, however, have the car's proof of ownership which, of course, you should not keep in the glove box. The officer sighed multiple times to see what an idiot I am. Meanwhile, his dog was barking like he just wanted an excuse to get out of that car and maul someone. So when the officer said he was going back to his car to check on something and DON'T GET OUT OF YOUR CAR I gladly stayed put.
When he came back, he told me that there was no excuse for not having my registration updated and I agreed with him. He told me to get my insurance in the car, and I told him I would. He told me that next time there wouldn't be a warning, and I believed him.
Then the kids and I went inside the pizza place and picked up some pizza. This one guy kept going to the window and looking out where the officer had been, which I think might be his way of letting me know that he was in the mafia.
In any case, I was glad that I got off with only a warning and I immediately went and registered the car as soon as the DOL opened. AND once we got home that night, the kids decided to play "train the police dog" which was cute. My favorite is when the police dog ("Caroline") was taught how to correctly employ her "loving bite." Just in case a criminal just needs some affection.
So, anyway, thanks for the heads up, Vancouver Police Department, and thanks for not giving me a ticket. I am glad to say that my car and I are both law abiding once more!
The officer informed me that my tags were two months overdue to be renewed, which I didn't realize... must have somehow missed the letter from the DOL. I tried to get out my license and registration and insurance and only managed to produce the license. Of course the registration was expired. And for some reason I could only find the old insurance card, too. I did, however, have the car's proof of ownership which, of course, you should not keep in the glove box. The officer sighed multiple times to see what an idiot I am. Meanwhile, his dog was barking like he just wanted an excuse to get out of that car and maul someone. So when the officer said he was going back to his car to check on something and DON'T GET OUT OF YOUR CAR I gladly stayed put.
When he came back, he told me that there was no excuse for not having my registration updated and I agreed with him. He told me to get my insurance in the car, and I told him I would. He told me that next time there wouldn't be a warning, and I believed him.
Then the kids and I went inside the pizza place and picked up some pizza. This one guy kept going to the window and looking out where the officer had been, which I think might be his way of letting me know that he was in the mafia.
In any case, I was glad that I got off with only a warning and I immediately went and registered the car as soon as the DOL opened. AND once we got home that night, the kids decided to play "train the police dog" which was cute. My favorite is when the police dog ("Caroline") was taught how to correctly employ her "loving bite." Just in case a criminal just needs some affection.
So, anyway, thanks for the heads up, Vancouver Police Department, and thanks for not giving me a ticket. I am glad to say that my car and I are both law abiding once more!
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Imaginary Updates...
My first interview... Chuck Sambuchino at Writer's Digest talked with me about how I got a literary agent and the journey of writing IJ and getting it published. You can read the excellent article here. There's a shorter version in the February print issue of Writer's Digest, which also includes a cover article about Sue Grafton.
You've seen Imaginary Jesus... now you can hear him. The fine folks at Christianaudio.com wrote me today to say that the editing process for the audio book is done and it will be available Very Soon. In the meantime, it's available for pre-order and they've put it up on the front page of their site:
Sign up for the IJ e-mail list. If you want updates about the book's release, you can sign up here (the future home of ImaginaryJesus.com and the Imaginary Blog). I promise not to deluge you with emails. In fact, as of this date we've sent precisely zero updates, waiting for something HUGE to report. Like free downloads of the first couple chapters. Yup, it could happen. Steel yourselves, me hearties. You can also follow me on twitter.
One Last Item. In the print version of the Writer's Digest article the name of my new book is revealed. No, not Imaginary Jesus, you smart alecks. The one that comes after that. I will reveal it to you when the time is right. Moowhahahahahaaa!
You've seen Imaginary Jesus... now you can hear him. The fine folks at Christianaudio.com wrote me today to say that the editing process for the audio book is done and it will be available Very Soon. In the meantime, it's available for pre-order and they've put it up on the front page of their site:
Sign up for the IJ e-mail list. If you want updates about the book's release, you can sign up here (the future home of ImaginaryJesus.com and the Imaginary Blog). I promise not to deluge you with emails. In fact, as of this date we've sent precisely zero updates, waiting for something HUGE to report. Like free downloads of the first couple chapters. Yup, it could happen. Steel yourselves, me hearties. You can also follow me on twitter.
One Last Item. In the print version of the Writer's Digest article the name of my new book is revealed. No, not Imaginary Jesus, you smart alecks. The one that comes after that. I will reveal it to you when the time is right. Moowhahahahahaaa!
Monday, January 04, 2010
The rest of my talks from Venture 2010
All of my talks from last week's conference are online now.
Here's my second talk... it was preparation for our "day of outreach" when the students served the people of Portland by taking food out into the neighborhoods and also doing community surveys on behalf of local churches. I talked about why we do this every year, coming out of Luke 15. This talk was probably the most fun for me to put together, and the first 18 minutes or so got more comments from the crowd than any of the other talks...
Matt Mikalatos Session 4 Venture 2010 Winter Conference from Venture on Vimeo.
My next talk was done that same day, in the evening, after everyone returned from their outreach. We looked at what it means to be "fishers of men" and ambassadors of Christ.
Matt Mikalatos Session 5 Venture 2010 Winter Conference from Venture on Vimeo.
And, here's the final talk, where we talked about what it means to "leave everything" and follow Christ. This was the commitment night, so a lot of the content was oriented around helping the students connect with God and follow whatever he might say to them:
Matt Mikalatos Session 6 Venture 2010 Winter Conference from Venture on Vimeo.
Overall, it was a great conference and I enjoyed being a part of it. I had a lot of great conversations with students and staff and it was, as always, an honor and a great deal of fun to teach. Enjoy!
Here's my second talk... it was preparation for our "day of outreach" when the students served the people of Portland by taking food out into the neighborhoods and also doing community surveys on behalf of local churches. I talked about why we do this every year, coming out of Luke 15. This talk was probably the most fun for me to put together, and the first 18 minutes or so got more comments from the crowd than any of the other talks...
Matt Mikalatos Session 4 Venture 2010 Winter Conference from Venture on Vimeo.
My next talk was done that same day, in the evening, after everyone returned from their outreach. We looked at what it means to be "fishers of men" and ambassadors of Christ.
Matt Mikalatos Session 5 Venture 2010 Winter Conference from Venture on Vimeo.
And, here's the final talk, where we talked about what it means to "leave everything" and follow Christ. This was the commitment night, so a lot of the content was oriented around helping the students connect with God and follow whatever he might say to them:
Matt Mikalatos Session 6 Venture 2010 Winter Conference from Venture on Vimeo.
Overall, it was a great conference and I enjoyed being a part of it. I had a lot of great conversations with students and staff and it was, as always, an honor and a great deal of fun to teach. Enjoy!
Sunday, January 03, 2010
I had a dream this morning
I had a weird dream this morning.
It started with a young man who had decided to ask his girlfriend to marry him. He had bought this amazing engagement ring that was made out of twenty engagement rings and formed a sort of orb. He showed it to her but she didn't really care for it, so they took it apart and started looking at each of the different rings, trying to find one she would like.
When they took a break from this they went to the Carnival of the Frog Queen. This is not a place anyone wanted to go to, but children were somehow drawn to the place, where they would have to kiss the Frog Queen on the cheek (she was about four feet tall and dressed in a heavy velvet robe, with a crown on her head). Once they had kissed the Frog Queen they would be allowed to enter the carnival. The carnival was full of games that you could never win, and the Frog Queen somehow got some joy or satisfaction or power from the children constantly losing at games. One game involved a representation of a human torso, which was full of multi-colored styrofoam balls, and the person playing the game would direct brightly colored ferrets to race around inside the torso and eat up as many of the balls as they could. But of course the children were losing the game.
Then I woke up.
It started with a young man who had decided to ask his girlfriend to marry him. He had bought this amazing engagement ring that was made out of twenty engagement rings and formed a sort of orb. He showed it to her but she didn't really care for it, so they took it apart and started looking at each of the different rings, trying to find one she would like.
When they took a break from this they went to the Carnival of the Frog Queen. This is not a place anyone wanted to go to, but children were somehow drawn to the place, where they would have to kiss the Frog Queen on the cheek (she was about four feet tall and dressed in a heavy velvet robe, with a crown on her head). Once they had kissed the Frog Queen they would be allowed to enter the carnival. The carnival was full of games that you could never win, and the Frog Queen somehow got some joy or satisfaction or power from the children constantly losing at games. One game involved a representation of a human torso, which was full of multi-colored styrofoam balls, and the person playing the game would direct brightly colored ferrets to race around inside the torso and eat up as many of the balls as they could. But of course the children were losing the game.
Then I woke up.
Friday, January 01, 2010
First talk from Campus Crusade for Christ's Venture2010 conference!
Happy New Year!
Krista and I just came home from a giant ballroom full of crazy, dancing, laughing college students... they're still partying but we snuck home. We've been here with them since the 28th, and tomorrow is the last day of our conference. Ooops. Today, I mean.
Anyway, here's the first talk I gave the first night of the conference. Enjoy!
Matt Mikalatos Session 1 Venture 2010 Winter Conference from Venture on Vimeo.
Krista and I just came home from a giant ballroom full of crazy, dancing, laughing college students... they're still partying but we snuck home. We've been here with them since the 28th, and tomorrow is the last day of our conference. Ooops. Today, I mean.
Anyway, here's the first talk I gave the first night of the conference. Enjoy!
Matt Mikalatos Session 1 Venture 2010 Winter Conference from Venture on Vimeo.
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