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.

Git me mah squirrel killin' crutch!

No editorial remarks are necessary: Squirrel's rampage of terror halted by a man with a crutch.

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.

quarantined!

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.

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.

Ooops

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:

36,607 / 100,000 (36.6%)

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.

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.

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.

--Matt

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

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

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.

RAPTOR CAM!

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.

34,580 / 100,000 (34.6%)

Go, go, go!

At this rate I'll be done one day.

Miracles

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…

Toughen Up... Summer is Here

Today marks the official "First Day" of summer for me. I can tell when this day arrives based on two things: One, I wore shorts all day. Two, I didn't wear shoes.

Which means that it's time to start the Patented Mikalatos Toughen Up curriculuum for feet.

I hate it when I have soft, pampered feet. "Winter feet." Blech.

So it's time. Time to take those feet and walk across hot cement. Weed the yard! Step on thorns! Kick rocks!

If you do it right your feet won't feel anything within a couple of weeks. Hooray!

Yahoo!

Here's the latest update on the novel word count:

33,412 / 100,000 (33.4%)

That puts me just barely over one-third of the way! Yeeha!*






*It's not a western, though.

Memorial Day

For all those who have gone before us by way of the violence or deprivations of war, we remember you and the lives you led. We pray for peace and for the return of the One who will bring everlasting peace to our lives, and justice to our world. He did not create us to die, but to live. Come, Lord Jesus!

Choose Your Own (Christian) Romance: Answer Key

Well, it's time to reveal at long last the "correct" answer to the choose your own Christian Romance game.

And the correct answer is -- drumroll, please -- B! That's right, "And as her true love pulled her into his arms for the sweetest kiss, Ashley was finally able to leave the past behind and embrace the future, as a woman, as a mother, and someday soon as a pastor's wife."

Mmmm, that's the good stuff!

Props to Jason and Hairy Dave, the truest connoisseurs of romance fiction, who sniffed out the answer to that one right away.

Eavesdropping With Matt (Episode fifteen)

Dedicated to the well-meaning eight-year-old girl at the Portland Zoo, who wanted my children to know the truth about the animals around them.


Z: Dad, look at the crocodiles!

A: And why are there fish in there with them?


Me: When the crocodiles get hungry they slip down there and eat some fish.


Z: Why?


Me: Crocodiles eat fish. Or, you know, pretty much anything that goes near them. Zebras, antelope, that sort of thing.


Eight-Year-Old Girl: That's not actually true, you know. Crocodiles are very gentle creatures.


Me: Is that right?


Eight-Year-Old Girl: Yes. Crocodiles will only attack if something tries to harm them. They are mostly vegetarian.


I gave that little girl my blog address and told her to look it up tonight. I wanted to be sure that she saw this picture of a crocodile eating a big bloody chunk of banana:





















Aw, alright kid, stop crying. Here's what really happens:



Crocodiles just like to suck on frogs and fish for the flavor. But they would never eat them.

Novel Thoughts

I've decided to work on my novel for a while this summer. I had set it aside for awhile to work on some short stories and things. I noticed my buddy Mir has a little doohickey on her blog that shows how many words she's written on her novel, so I thought I'd post one occasionally to show everyone how little progress I am making. I'm targeting about 100,000 words, so that means that I'm about 28% of the way done with my first draft... that's chapter sixteen. Just seeing that little bar makes me feel sad that it's so far from done... I had (originally) planned to have it done this spring!

28,686 / 100,000 (28.7%)

UPDATE: Well, we didn't watch any television tonight. Here's the fruit of tonight's labor on the novel. Not bad, about 1,600 words...

30,309 / 100,000 (30.3%)

LOST party update(s)

Well, this season's Champion LOST Predictor is our very own Angel Oh, with an astonishing 7 correct predictions about last night's episode. It's no big surprise, though. See how she is hugging that television? It is like a sister to her.

Fifteen of our regular and semi-regular LOST devotees showed up, and Angel beat out some tough competition.

But she is used to beating out competition, because she has her very own snowmobile accesories shop on the web, where she regularly beats the competition. It is true.

In other news, LOST is great. If you do not watch it, I pity you. I really do.

I would tell you all the other shows I think are great, but then you would pity me for watching that much television.

NOTE: I've placed the "predictions" quiz that Angel dominated in the comments section so you can peruse it at your leisure. We all filled out the quiz before the show came on. It was fun. There are spoilers in the quiz if you haven't started watching season three yet.

get LOST with the Mikalatos family

Tomorrow night is the LOST season finale.

So, we're hosting a LOST party at our house.

Come on by at 7 p.m. for dessert and to hang out, and then at 9 we'll let the "cone of silence" descend while we spend two hours bonding in the fifty year tradition of our nation: watching television.

BONUS: Before the show get your chance to fill out "Desmond's Season Finale Predictions". The person who has the most correct answers will be declared the Champion Lost Predictor until season four begins!

If you're in the Portland, OR area somewhere, feel free to come by. E-mail me at matt.mikalatos(at)gmail.com if you need our address!

Choose Your Own (Christian) Romance

Now's your chance to prove your chops as an editor. Below are three choices of story endings, one from a published Christian romance story, and two that have been invented by moi. Choose the "real" ending and vote in the comments section:

A) Roy pulled her close. "Now that you've rejected the lies of egalitarianism and have accepted the truth of the complementarian position, I think it's time for me to tell you... you are going to be my wife."

B) And as her true love pulled her into his arms for the sweetest kiss, Ashley was finally able to leave the past behind and embrace the future, as a woman, as a mother, and someday soon as a pastor's wife.

C) After crossing the prairie she had lost so much, but God had brought Brett into her life. His strong arms encircled her and she was reminded again of the safety of the circled wagon train. She had found home at last.

Get in a street fight with matt mikalatos

Well, folks, the official announcement for Coach's Midnight Diner is up. Turns out I wasn't supposed to say anything before the official announcement. But what do you expect from a tough guy like me? That I will just follow the rules? It is to laugh! Ha! Ha!



Ha!

Happy Mother's Day

A very Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there.

Special thanks to my wife... I'm so thankful you're the woman our kids are privileged to learn from and emulate. You are a great Mom and I'm so thankful for you.

And to Janet... if I were choosing a wife based purely on who would be my mother-in-law, Krista would still be first choice. Thanks for your kindness and love to me. I'm so glad that you are such an involved part of our family!

And to my own Mom... I know the whole world sends you little thank you cards from time to time for bringing me into the world, but little do they know the trials and tribulations I've brought you over the years. Thanks for your patience and unconditional love and for being a great mom and grandma. I love you!

signs they are a changin'

I am in California right now. I saw a sign today that said:

TRAFFIC CALMING AHEAD

Can someone help me understand what this means? Feel free to leave your best theories in the comments section.

In other news, this greasy hamburger joint (NATIONS) has been replaced with a great Mexican restaurant called "El Belasco" or some such. It was great.

How Many Roads Must a Man Walk Down Before You Call Him a Man?

I had a pretty good travel day yesterday. I called Krista to tell her I had made it to Redding at one point, and she immediately asked me if I had been speeding.

Of course not!

I think the roads got shorter than last time or something. It probably also helps that instead of stopping to refuel I would pull up alongside tankers and fuel while driving. The driver would toss me a bag of tortilla chips to munch on for the next several hours.

Worst Thing about a day-long drive yesterday: NPR is having a pledge drive. You can only listen to those ringing phones for a finite amount of time. And then there's this nagging question... are there really people in the studio answering phones, or is it just a sound effect. It's almost enough to cause one to call them....

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off

If you haven't seen this story it's worth a quick read. It's sad (and also funny). An inter-faith soccer match had to be called off because the participants couldn't agree on conditions under which to play.

For extra hilarity, be sure to see the tactful and subtle illustration that the good folk at cbs have chosen for the story.

In other news, small Baptist churches everywhere are looking forward to this summer's softball season.

Big Wheels Keep On Turnin'

Tomorrow I head for California to meet with some of our current supporters and to meet others who are interested in joining our support team.

If you're looking for a new missionary family to support, here's a link for joining our team, or feel free to e-mail me at matt.mikalatos(at)gmail.com.

A Matt By Any Other Name Would Still Smell As Sweet

I've noticed that my name causes trouble for the casual reader. "Matt Mikalatos" too easily translates to "Mike." So I've been thinking of using a new name for my fiction. Or rather, just going by "Matthew" instead of Matt.

But I thought I'd give the BHR community a chance to vote. When you are reading a story by yours truly, what name would you prefer to see on the byline:

A) Matt Mikalatos
B) Matthew Mikalatos
C) Mike Mattalatos
D) Michael Connelly
E) (insert the name of your choice)

Feel free to vote in the comments section.

Kitty Cats

My daughter, A, snuck up to me, jumped in my lap and curled up.

Krista: Just like a cat.

Me (to A): You know, a cat jumps in people's lap just like that.

A: And they poop outside.

The Show-Me Kid

We were out working in the garden last night when several ducks flew overhead. I don't know what the heck these ducks are up to but they've been flying back and forth over our yard for a few days now.

Krista: There go the ducks.

Me: Yeah, they've been flying over our yard a lot lately.

Z: Oh, so ducks really can fly. Now that I've seen it I know that it's true.

The Toy Language: A Found Poem

In my freshman year
I learned Algol 68
the most academical
program language ever made
and Pascal
which was initially only intended
as a toy-language
for a compiler construction course.
La Revolution francaise!

Double your pleasure

Assuming that your pleasure involves reading my fiction.

I told you a while back that my story "The Deluge" was going to be published this July in "Coach's Midnight Diner." And that is still true.

But I got a call from Coach on Friday and he asked if they could also publish it in issue three of Relief Journal--which goes to press tomorrow--as a preview for the Diner. Of course I said yes.

So I e-mailed back and forth with Coach late into the night as we worked on getting the contract signed, writing the bio, finding a picture that really captures my features with the perfect combination of cool aloofness and pretension that serious writers must present. We finally decided on a picture of me wearing a top hat, an umbrella over one arm as I studiously read Ezra Pound's Pisan Cantos.

Why it is hard to raise an actress

I caught my daughter, A, standing in front of our full-length mirror in the hallway and "crying" and saying, "I want my daddy. I want my dada."

I asked her, "Are you practicing crying?"

She laughed hysterically and clapped her hands.

She's four years old and so many opportunities to pretend to cry are expanding into the future. And she'll be ready for them. So ready.

Free Comic Book Day

Yes, tomorrow isfree comic book day!

I'll be taking the kids to get their free comics after I go to the church men's breakfast and the kids' soccer games.

They are free!

Visual DNA

Okay, I first saw this on Ken's site and was going to try it out. But I never did. And then I got "tagged" by Jason. Then I realized that my public was going to demand this of me until I gave in. Ha ha ha!

So here it is:

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Signs of fatigue

This morning before my shower I put some shaving gel in my hand and suddenly realized I didn't know what it was for. About half a second later I remembered it was hair gel and started to put it in my hair. But before I put it on my hair I remembered it was shaving gel and put it on my face.

It's not good when you wake up that tired.

On the positive side, it's a good thing I didn't put it on my hair, because then I would have probably shaved my head this morning.

The New Wittenburg Door

The new Wittenburg Door is now available.

Included in this issue are two articles by some guy with the same name as me:

An "interview" with Superman in which we discuss "Superman Returns" and the value of advertising toward the evangelical community, as well as the upcoming sequel, the end times and whether I am smarter than Lex Luthor.

I also report back on the unlikely events that cause a men's retreat to kick out their own Bible teacher in "Men's Retreat Shocker."

I hope you enjoy them.