Banksy and the Grey Ghost

Every once in a while you stumble upon an epic of conflicting personalities of such scale that you hope that someone turns it into an opera... or at least a novel or a movie.

Such is the story of Banksy and the Grey Ghost. Banksy -- like any superhero -- keeps his identity secret. He's an artist who does public art. For instance, he climbed into the penguin enclosure at the London Zoo and painted a giant sign that said, "We're Bored of Fish."
(Also funny... he apparently convinced some people that his real name may be "Robin Banks." Ha ha.)

He also enjoys painting graffiti in New Orleans. With the 3-year anniversary of Katrina coming up, some of his work has appeared on the NO streets.


However, street artists across New Orleans watch in trepidation as the masked vigilante known as the Grey Ghost makes the rounds, covering over street art with gray paint. Banksy has thrown down the gauntlet, his recent art taking a shot at the Grey Ghost himself.


Meanwhile, the Grey Ghost is teaming with the city of New Orleans to battle the efforts of the group called NOLA Rising which is attempting to encourage beautification through street art.

I like the personalities at work here. The gifted artist who refuses to follow social norms, choosing to break the law although he could easily get his works in galleries... but doing it in such a spectacular way that you start to wonder why those laws exist. Meanwhile, the implacable Grey Ghost, without imagination, without appreciation, continues his crusade to remove the illegal art, replacing it with ugly, utilitarian grey paint, not even trying to match it to the colors of the buildings.

I look forward to seeing how this all plays out.

Keep Portland Weird

A common bumper sticker (I'm going to get one eventually) in this area says KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD. You might think that's just a silly slogan. But the video below from Weird America will show you that, yes, Portland is weird.

Switchfoot Studio Cam

You probably know this already, since half of you have become rabid Switchfoot fans that take pictures of Jon Foreman when the poor man is just trying to buy himself and enormous chocolate yogurt, but the band is working on their new album.

And they've decided to sometimes turn on the webcam while they're in the studio (see below). Yes, it's just like watching baby eagle chicks in the nest, my friends. Live. Day or Night. Pretty soon they are going to fly and you can say, "Hey, I remember when those little eaglets were just little gray fluffy fellas." Only now they are eagles.

Kids grow up fast.

Okay, it's not a perfect metaphor. Leave me alone, man, and just watch the studio cam.

Eavesdropping With Matt (Episode Twenty-Eight)

Dedicated to the ancient and dessicated man in front of me at the grocery store yesterday, and to the plucky young checker-lady who waited on him.

Lady Checker: Do you need help getting out to your car?

Old Man: No. But I could use some help when I get home. Carrying in my groceries. And then opening a bottle of wine --

Lady Checker: ha ha ha--

Bagger (after the old man shuffles off): I am taking notes from that guy.

Don't Hold Back!

A few weeks ago, the kids and I "rabbit-sat" for a friend. When the friends returned home to find the rabbit alive--at least, it was alive when I last saw it, I swear--they showed up at our place with a gift certificate for ice cream.

So yesterday I took the kids out for a frozen treat. When we go out for a frozen treat we have one rule: The total volume of ice cream must be larger than the dimensions of our own heads.






Even if it means that we have to take a little sit-down break before we get to the end of the treat:



Yes, even if it means we will enter into some sort of treat-induced coma, we soldier on:

I am proud to say that--like ballpark seagulls--my kids managed to slide the entire mess into their gullets with a minimum of squawking.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

If you haven't run across Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, now's your chance. Poor Dr. Horrible. He's a second-tier super villain, constantly thwarted by a second-tier superhero. All he wants is to change the world for the better, preferably by ruling it together with the sweet girl he's fallen in love with at the local laundromat. But to do so he'll need to defeat Captain Hammer so he can join the Evil League of Evil.

And now you can watch his blog as he shares his thoughts and as he --yes -- sings about his deepest feelings.

I hate to admit this, but this little show lines up almost precisely with my sense of humor (other than a few sexual jokes as you get into acts two and three... so this isn't for the kiddies). The first act in particular gave me fits of laughter. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, and special thanks to Ken for forcing me to give it a try.

Anniversary Gifts

For our anniversary, Krista made me a "mix tape." Okay, I guess our society has evolved beyond mix tapes, but it was an Anniversary Playlist. In addition to proving that she knows me better than anyone, it is a great mix of songs. She bought several Weezer songs that remind us of Thailand, each other, and great rock songs of the past. The fact that she knew me well enough to know that I love Weezer but didn't have any of the songs she bought was impressive.

She also figured out (via our friends Kerri and Shasta) that I had expressed interest in the song "The Story" by Brandi Carlile during the Olympic commercial breaks. I love Carlile's voice, and I like the breadth of the song, how it moves from gentle love ballad to not-so-gentle rock ballad where you can tell that Carlile is putting every ounce of her self into getting those lyrics out over the music. I've included the lyrics in the post below. It's really a captivating song.

I actually cried when Krista gave me the mix. Partly because I am an old softy, I guess. And partly because she so perfectly expressed who she is and who she knows me to be in the songs she chose. I also liked the "High Fidelity" aspect of it.

We ended up liking the two Brandi Carlile songs on the mix so much that Krista went all crazy and bought the rest of the album last night. Good stuff.

Brandi Carlile -- The Story -- Lyrics

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you

I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But baby I broke them all for you
Oh, because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do
I was made for you

You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what
I've been through like you do
And I was made for you...

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
Oh yeah, it's true that I was made for you

Bloggers, Monkeys and Burritos

Enough, already. I am fatigued by the incessant messages to my inbox demanding more monkeys on this blog. Some have begun to complain that there are too many, preferring that we instead discuss burritos and Mexican food in general. I love both these things, also, my dear friends, but how long can you clamor for both? I am merely a simple-minded blogger, not some cyber-servant for you to berate and confuse. I cannot meet all the demands put upon me by you, my internet audience.

Nevertheless, I will do my utmost to provide you with what you crave... nay, what you demand.

Click "Play" O Gentle Reader and have your deepest Burrito/Monkey cravings satisfied.

Ten Years!

Dear Krista--

Happy Anniversary! Ten years ago today my life changed irrevocably for the better. Thank you for saying yes and becoming my wife.

I spent some time yesterday out shopping for Anniversary cards. The ones I saw were terrible. There are two extremes. On the one hand you have the "funny" cards, which tend to be not-so-funny. Like so:

Or you have the overly-verbose sappy ones scripted over a watercolor that you can't read to the end of. Like so:

I wanted something offbeat but loving, something that would remind you of me. Something that would show how I picture our future. Maybe something like this:

Okay, that's a little closer, but honestly, it's too silly to capture my true feelings for you. You deserve something more like you, something classy. Something like this:

I am thankful for the ten years we've shared together. Every year with you gets better. I love your passion for life, for God, for our children, for people in general -- that they would find life. I deeply respect your commitment to learning and how you do your absolute best in everything you put your hand to. I am amazed by your patience with the kids, and with me, too. I appreciate your insights and wisdom... I love our conversations. Your intelligence and breadth of knowledge make talking with you one of my favorite things in life. And I appreciate most of all your love for me, how you have taught me what it means to forgive, what it means to love someone more than myself, what it looks like to know without a doubt that someone is committed to you without question. I look forward to many, many more years to know you better, to love you more, and to learn how to treat you the way that you deserve. Happy Anniversary. I love you!

Mikalatos Dance Fever

One of the stint teams this week had a scavenger hunt in which they needed to see Mikalatos Dance Fever in action. I recruited some background dancers (you might recognize The Autumn Film... they have caught the fever).

Eavesdropping With Matt (Episode Twenty-Seven)

Dedicated to the family at the boarding area at Gate B 35, Dad, Mom and two boys, aged nine or ten.

Mom: Here, son, you can scratch off the lottery tickets.

Son: Great!

Mom: Be sure to read the directions.

Son: I already know how to do it!

Mom: When you're done with that you need to do your math homework.

DIA One, Mikalatos Zero

Clean Hair, Dirty Teeth. Believe it or not, the DIA TSA caught my illegal toothpaste. I found that the, "It has less than three ounces in the tube" argument to be ineffective. Well done, TSA, well done. This round goes to you. On the positive side, I've had no shampoo all week, because my hotel room came with hand lotion instead. Yesterday I got a little container of shampoo from another hotel. Clever. And Clean.

Mikalatos Standing By. My bus dropped me off early enough for me to have a chance to stand-by to get home early. I would love to get home early and see my beloved wife and kids. And our roommates, too.

Breakfast Burrito. Nothing makes me quite so happy as having a burrito at nine in the morning. Chicken burrito with guacamole, extra spicy. Mmmmmm. I love travel breakfast.

One more Sign

Nevertheless, I made it safely to the airport.

HUGE! Mikalatos spots a specimen of the world's largest organism in Colorado (yup, there's a picture)

The stand of trees shown at the top of this picture is a stand of aspens. Aspens grow as a stand of genetically identical trees... in fact, they're technically stems. If you look carefully at the picture above you can see a large swath of them fallen on the ground. It appears that this entire organism is sick or dying, and I'm told that when a large amount of them falls, it will only spread to the rest of the stand.

The largest known stand of aspen is nicknamed "Pando." I have decided to call the stand that I've discovered here, "The Matthew Mikalatos Explorer of the Year Award Aspen (Copper, Colorado)."

Can't believe I missed it

Missing this wedding is the first time I've deeply regretted a travel conflict with my job. In addition to really really liking the bride and groom, a lot of good friends were at the wedding.

Krista has put up some great pictures at her site. The picture above is one of them.

Congratulations, Alexis and Jesse!

Yet Another Silly Sign from Colorado

"Two Great Locations To Wake Up At Copper." I am not sure what this means. I have not personally ever woken a location. Apparently both locations are Starbucks. Tomorrow morning I plan to burst into Starbucks and yell WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!

I am not sure what will happen, but I imagine it will involve the floor buckling and pipes reaching out of the ground like arms, lights flashing on and off and some sort of monstrous yawn.

This sign brought to you by the Men's Restroom Stalls of Copper Mountain.

BHR News Roundup

I don't have any monkey news for you today, but I thought I would share these two stories:

1) DNA experts say, "This so-called Bigfoot DNA is totally fake!" Meanwhile, believers in Bigfoot say, "Shut up you stupid so-called experts!"

2) If a polar bear and a shark are both chasing you, try to turn them against each other. If that doesn't work, take your chances with the bear.

Another favorite sign

This one from the nearby town of Frisco:

























If you can't read that last line, it's "fish curds"

My favorite sign at the conference so far

The theme of our conference this week is "Christ Alone." I was extremely pleased to see this sign on the side doors this morning:

Christ alone, please use other doors.

I'm pretty sure that he'll use whichever doors he pleases.

Words Fail Me

A friend who spends too many hours of the day trolling the internet for Hasselhoffia sent me this link... definitively answering the question, "Does David Hasselhoff know that he and Wisconsin are both known primarily for their cheesiness?"

Note, by the way, Hasselhoff's complete concession to Europe. He has had KITT modified to have the driver's seat on the right hand side.

THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN! by Z

While cleaning out school papers, we found this story Z wrote.

"One day Clark Kent was walking home when a cat walked up. But when it put its ears back, Clark said, 'It's mad. I can see that it's mad.' Then he saw that it went to everyone.

When it got to him it purred and purred."

THE END

Where I'm At

This week is the "Global Briefing"... this is when we get together all of the new, one-year, overseas missionaries together for a week and spend time worshiping God together, providing training for their upcoming year, and making preparations for what is to come. We call our one-year folk "stinters."

I'll be blogging over at our blog for stinters this week. Feel free to drop by and hopefully I can provide at least a flavor of what the week looks like.

Shaping up to be a Grand Adventure

On my way to Colorado this fine morning, headed to Copper Mountain. As always, the Portland airport always provides me with early morning ramblings. Including:

1.5 ounces of extra toothpaste due to daring in-your-face security philosophy. I didn't have a 3 oz. toothpaste tube last night, so I brought a 4.5 ounce one, thinking I could bargain with security by explaining that I had already used some of the toothpaste and thus it might very well be that there were only 3 ounces in the tube. Apparently my logic was both self-evident and unassailable, for they didn't even pull the toothpaste aside to mention it to me. Excellent!

God Wills a return to the Alaska ticket counter. Someone whose name sounds a great deal like "God Wills" has been asked repeatedly to return to the AK ticket counter for a lost item. (Gott Wills? Not sure.) This creates an awkward feeling for all of us here at the airport as we are told repeatedly that God wills us to go to the ticket counter. I imagine the people working there are having a rough morning. Here's the conversation I had when I went to check on it:
"Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes. God willed me to come here and speak to you."
"I'm not sure what to say, sir?"
"He said there was an important left behind item."
"Like what, sir?"
"I'm not sure, He didn't say what it was. Hmmm. Could you look in lost and found and see if there's a largish gold box with cherubim on it? Should have long poles for carrying it, and some manna and the ten commandments inside it. Oh, and a stick with flowers on it."

Now All I Need is a Hymnal. I realized as I packed last night that I had left my Bible in Corvallis. Which meant searching for a back up Bible. I didn't want to take one of Krista's, because she needs all her Bibles at various times. So I went to our "book closet" where we store various unused but new books, often ones we received for free at some point. So I found a Giant Pew Bible (TNIV). Looks like I stole it right out of a church (but I didn't). Practically needs its own carry on!

My book for the plane today is "A Purple Place for Dying" by John MacDonald. I recently read my first MacDonald novel and now I... must... read... them... all.

In Honor of the New "Beverly Hills 90210" television show

You may not have known that 90210 is being retooled for a new generation. And so, in honor of this special new show I decided today to... shave off my sideburns.

Comments so far include:

"Goodbye, sideburns!" (the woman who cut my hair)
"Your head looks smaller." (Shasta)

I also had that special moment of terror that comes at least once when you are paying your "stylist" less than 15 bucks for a haircut, when my stylist reached for what looked like thinning scissors. Can't she see that my hair is thin enough already?

But it turned out that the tool in question was, in fact, a special razor for people who have a "forest of hair" growing on the back of their neck. The stylist spent several minutes logging in the forest, and then several more moving her hands back and forth across the newly shorn skin and commenting on how clean and great it felt now. I mentioned my wife several times to remind her that yes, I am married. Very happily married.

We can only hope that the new 90210 will have many moments like these. Hard to tell if I shaved off the sideburns prematurely, because apparently I am meant to grow my hair long and hang it over my sideburns. I'll work on it.

Signed,

Nat, owner of the Peach Pit

How 'bout Them Apples?

As if to prove the inescapable power of cute little kids selling apples, here's a little clip of A and cousin J selling their apples this weekend:

We Play Pool

We left Z alone and she wandered off and started jumping off the high dive at the pool. Quite a surprise for our normally conservative Z! The fact that she did it without any prodding or encouragement for us was surprising. Good job, kid! She told me that she stands on the edge and thinks through how she wants to land, on which part of her body, and then drops off the edge. She loves it.

As soon as A heard the high dive was open, she went back into the pool. As you can see she walked right out the end, didn't really think about it and jumped off. This is pretty typical for A... fearless. I asked her if she was afraid and she said, "Not until after I jumped." She jumped twice, but isn't quite as sold as Z on this being a fun activity.

Here's Sunscreen In Your Eye

I got sunscreen in my eye today. Apparently it is an extremely aggravating type of sunscreen. It says on the instructions to wash your eye if you accidentally slather it on there. But by the time I made it to the bathroom, my eye was SPF 50. I'll never need sunglasses, I guess.

My eye burned for hours until the sunscreen somehow leaked down into my sinuses, causing a constantly weeping eye and running nostril. That's right, one nostril.

The weeping eye is sort of cool, like a super villain in a James Bond movie. The nostril, on the other hand, is like some sort of grotesque clown from a Jim Carey film.

Assuming that my eyeball falls out, I'll post pictures of my eye patch tomorrow. Please be kind and don't mention the weepy nostril.

Quite A Bargain

At the garage sale, Z needed to learn a few lessons. She, A, and their cousin J gathered some apples to sell to people. A marked her apples for fifty cents a bag, J marked his at a dollar a bag, and Z marked hers at two dollars a bag.

Z: I will charge two dollars a bag for my apples.

Me: Would you be willing to bargain?

Z: What does "bargain" mean?

Me: It means, you say two dollars and I say, "Would you be willing to accept one dollar and fifty cents?"

Z (pauses to think about this): I would rather you said, "Would you be willing to accept two dollars and fifty cents?"

Eavesdropping with Matt (Episode Twenty-Six)

Dedicated to the fine folk of Drain, OR, and especially to Krista's Aunt Jan and whomever it was who was shopping the garage sale yesterday.

Jan: How is your garage sale-ing going?

Shopper: Great. I can't have fish in our pond because the raccoons eat them, but I bought some lilies for the pond.

Jan: The raccoons eat them, huh?

Shopper: Yes. We have some "live traps"... but did you know that if you take a racoon fifty miles away it will still get back to your house within a day.

Jan: They are pretty devoted to their territory.

Shopper: Yes. You can't kill them in town, you know, so we catch them in the live traps and take them out to "The Buzzard Buffet." (She makes a gun with her fingers and mimes shooting a raccoon.) That's why I say... it's a "live" trap.

How I Lost My First Tooth by A

One day -- well, a few days, I was going to be in Thailand and that's where I lost my first tooth. And that's what I'm here for, telling you the story of how I lost my first tooth. Y'know, everybody loses teeth. You might not lose one until you're in first grade. One day at dinner in Thailand, Dad and me decided to go to take out my very first loose tooth. So once he pulled it out I went out to show everybody and everybody was so excited and the the next night I put it under my pillow and the next morning I had a big surprise of joy and happiness. Because I had money under my pillow!

THE END

Video Games and Their Effect on.... your braaaaaaiiinss

While driving home from the Great Drain Garage Sale of ought eight, my kids decided they really wanted to play with their cousin J's Nintendo DS. J doesn't like to share it, so he came up with a good reason they shouldn't take turns.

J: You shouldn't play video games, because they make a storm in your brain.

Z: Then how come you play them all the time?

J: Because I like to.

A: Who even told you that it causes a storm in your brain?

J: My cousin K.

Z: How old is K?

J: He's six.

A: I don't think he even knows what he's talking about.

J: Yes, he does! He's really smart.

(This was met by a great deal of eye-rolling and snorting from my daughters.) Then we had a little tangent where I talked to the kids about if they had ever had a brain storm, but it's too long and involved for here.

The Great Drain Garage Sale

Today was the big garage sale in Drain, when the whole town shows up to sell their wares and buy from one another. It's a great social experiment in which everyone moves their stuff from one house to another. We had a giant party at Krista's Grandma's house. My parents came down, too.

The kids had a great time, whether it was playing with all the toys we were supposed to be selling, or selling apples (which is big business if you are a kid and keep going up to people and convincing them they are bad people if they cause you disappointment).

Here's A, playing with a hula hoop. As you can see she is a natural.



And here's Z, getting ready for a boxing match.


She wasn't really sideways but I couldn't figure out how to rotate the picture. By the way... don't make her angry. You wouldn't like her when she's angry.

A Subtle Trap

I received an e-mail this morning from "CNN UPdates."  Two e-mails, in fact.  I pondered this carefully.  Could it be possible?  I don't recall signing up for CNN updates. 

I opened the first one.  My e-mail program didn't allow the pictures to download, but I see the link to the story I am being updated on:


I WILL DIE IF YOU DO NOT HELP ME NOW

Good grief!  Someone will die unless I read this news article!  Right now!

But then I paused.  This does not sound like any news article I have ever read.  In fact, most news articles say things like, "People are dying and there is nothing you can do about it, so feel free to sit in your easy chair and read the newspaper."

Hmmmm.

So I opened the second e-mail, only to discover this shocking headline:

BABY BORNED WITH A MOUSTACHE

"What!?" I cried.  "A baby?  Borned?  With a Moustache?"  This deeply distressed me.  But perhaps they meant moustache in the sense of the ancient Greek mustax, which means merely "upper lip."  I could not, however, see why CNN would be covering the story "BABY BORNED WITH UPPER LIP."  So they must mean, as the Slovaks would say, that the baby was borned with a fúzy.  I paced the room restlessly.  Should I click on the link and learn more?  A deep curiousity drew me to these stories.  Someone's life might hang in the balance on the first story and in the second... some poor baby had to learn to use a razor so young in life.  And he was just borned that way.

Wait a minute.  The word "borned" bothered me.  I looked it up in the dictionary.  No such word.  My dictionary politely suggested that perhaps I meant "burned."  BABY BURNED WITH MOUSTACHE.  Hmmm.  Now we were getting somewhere.  Some well-meaning moustachioed man must have accidentally lit his lip aflame, run to tell the baby, picked it up when it began to cry, forgetting the conflagration upon his face, held the baby up to comfort it and accidentally burned it with his moustache.  Unless it meant BABY BOUND WITH MOUSTACHE.  But no, a moustache of that length is simply too terrible to consider.

Could this be a scam, I wondered.  I don't recall signing up for CNN updates.  But then it said, right there on the bottom of the e-mail:  You have agreed to receive this email from CNN.com as a result of your CNN.com preference settings.

I thought back on this.  Was it possible I had signed up for CNN updates?  Was it possible that I had put in my settings "E-mail updates about people in grave peril who can only be helped by me somehow over the interrnet" and "Babies borned or burned or bound by facial hair"?  It seemed... only distantly possible.

I looked at the e-mail address which sent this e-mail to me.  fredrek-nofalped@nordbelg.com.  Ah.  Fredrek Nofalped, my old enemy.  The NordBelgians have been after me for a long time.  And I almost fell for it!  I shake my fist at thee, Frederek, son of Nofalped!  Do not profane the name of CNN with your freakish stories, attempting to convince me to follow thee into dark corners of the internet!  And now, hear my solemn oath: As a punishment for your wicked opposition to me, I will invent a time machine, go back in time and completely erradicate NordBelgium from the face of the space-time continuum.  When I am done, no geographer on earth will know your name.  "NordBelgium?" They will say.  "Are you sure you don't mean... Belgium?  Or Nordstrom's?"  Thus shall my revenge against thee be... complete.

This... I COMMAND!

Show Me The Monkey

CALIFORNIA -- The search for Moe, the missing chimpanzee, has come to a halt. Moe escaped from Jungle Exotics, a company that specializes in renting animals to the entertainment industry. Despite helicopter searches and extensive ground searches little trace of Moe has been found.


One confirmed sighting came from the Deer Park Nudist Colony. "I knew something was wrong," said nudist Frank Gerheim, "When I saw someone in a top hat and vest, carrying a cane. On closer inspection, however, I saw that he wasn't wearing pants. He was incredibly hairy, but let's be honest, most beautiful people don't feel the need to join a nudist colony. Also, he was riding a unicycle.  And wearing a monocle."

LaDonna Davis, Moe's owner, is not ready to give up yet. "We're going to try new tactics," she said. "We have two in mind, but I can't say what they are yet." This is presumably to prevent Moe from reading about the tactics on the internet, which would allow him to avoid the suspiciously large pile of bananas at the "Every Which Way But Loose" outdoor movie later this week.

Moe the Chimpanzee did not immediately return calls to his cell phone requesting a comment.

New Devotional

Remember the old days, when I used to occasionally let you know about a devotional somewhere or other that I had written for our overseas friends? 

Well, the old days are back.  We've started a new blog for people headed overseas for a year (we call them "stinters") and I've put up the first devotional here.

Enjoy.

New Cell Phone

This is a picture of my old cell phone.  I got it four years ago and it still works fine.  I dropped it in a toilet during Year Two.  I ran over it with my bicycle during Year Four, and then hit the brakes just as my tire came across it, so the bike skid across the pavement with the phone grinding beneath it.  It has traveled through many a country, been throttled by children, crushed in glove boxes and buried alive in ancient pyramids while treasure hunting. 

I had to trade it in because Washington has a new law forbidding me from driving while talking on my cell phone.  So my wonderful and generous mother went and bought me an Auditory Cybernetic Enhancement.  When I tried to "pair" it with my phone the earpiece said, "This old piece of junk is a phone?  I don't think so."  Therefore, I had to search all the brummagem and "free phones" provided by my carrier until I found one I could stomach.



I took this picture of my old phone with my new phone.  My new phone has a camera.  It can also send text messages, film movies, surf the internet, play music, give directions with its GPS, shoot grappling hooks, send out ultrasonic squeals that cause criminals to wince and drop their weapons, sonar capabilities, respond to voice commands and beat Bobby Fisher at chess.  I think it's Batman's old phone.



Of course I can't afford to activate anything on it, and I can't figure out how to make a phone call with it.  I've been hanging up on people, dropping calls, missing texts, losing messages.  It's spectacular.  And I'm keeping it for at least four years.

Puppet Show By A

At the library the other day my daughter A decided to do a puppet show for me.



(Enter Alligator)



Alligator: Have you seen the rabbit anywhere?  I'm hungry!



A: Dad, tell him if you've seen the rabbit!



Me: I haven't seen the rabbit anywhere.



(Exit alligator)



(Enter rabbit)



Rabbit: Have you seen the alligator anywhere?



Me: Yes!  Look out!  He was just here!



(Enter alligator)



Rabbit: There you are!



(The rabbit attacks the alligator.  Horrible sounds of munching and eating follow.  The alligator disappears behind the curtain.)



Rabbit: Mmmm.  That was tasty.



A: THE END.

If I had a secret blog

I would write on it yesterday.  About slugs.  Because they are weird.

Eavesdropping with Matt (Episode Twenty-Five)

Dedicated to the young woman at Target who was slumped on the floor between the bookshelves, reading a novel. And also to... me! We had a conversation as we walked out of the store. (NOTE: Is it considered eavesdropping if you are merely reporting on a conversation that you had? I suppose not. But "Conversations with Matt" seemed a little much).

Me: How far did you get into that book you were reading?


Young woman (surprised to have a stranger talk to her but reassured to see that he is with his wife): Oh... not very far.  I actually have the book at home, but I haven't finished it yet.


Me: Is it that vampire book that just came out?


YW: Yeah.  Well, it's not the current one that just came out.


Me: We went by the bookstore today and there were tons of people coming in to buy that.


YW: Right.  I'm reading the first book in that series.


Me: I hear they're making a movie of the first book.


YW: That's right.


Me: Pretty exciting.


YW: Yeah!  I can't wait to read the book so that I can go to the movie and say, "That's nothing like the book!  This movie sucks!"


P.S.  This series is like Harry Potter for young women right now.  They are going crazy for it, pre-ordering books and arranging their lives around it.  FYI.

You won't surely die

This commercial came on before a movie we recently rented (I think it might have been the awful waste of celluloid that was "Be Kind, Rewind"). I thought this commercial was disturbing, hilarious and bold. I particularly found the audience shots hilarious. I don't know who that main singer is, but he's absolutely rad.

Wounded

I just finished reading Percival Everett's Wounded last night.  Wounded is the story of John Hunt, a black horse trainer in a small town with a particular talent for training even the most difficult animals.  Hunt has no real trouble with animals, whether it's horses, donkeys or coyotes, but when it comes to people (himself included), Hunt doesn't have the same facility.  He just can't find a way to heal the old hurts.  When a gay man is murdered in town, followed by racist messages and slaughtered cattle on the nearby reservation, everyone begins to fear some sort of neo-Nazi hate group has moved into town.  The fears and difficulties are compounded by the arrival of David, the gay son of one of Hunt's friends.  Hunt sets out to try to fix everything: racism, homophobia, the hurts of his own past, the loss of loved ones, but finds himself up against the implacable realities of human nature, bigotry and death. 



I enjoyed this novel a great deal.  I can never figure out why Everett's novels aren't more widely available.  The big Box Stores don't even stock them, but they are intelligent, compelling, funny and deep, as well as entertaining.  He's one of my favorite authors for sure.  It just shows the fact that good books often go unremarked, while awful pieces of trash soar to the top of the bestseller lists.  Everett's writing balances enormous themes with a deft facility for words, plot and character, while revealing a wise knowledge of the world and a healthy sense of humor.



The ending of the novel hit me like a pillowcase full of bricks, but that didn't alter my enjoyment.  I've found myself reflecting on the novel and its themes several times since finishing it.  That's the sign of a great book.

News From My Neighborhood

Mikalatos: Neighbors! Attend to my call! Look unto the northwest region of our neighborhood! What do you see there?

Neighbor Chorus: Only the abandoned house which has become a garden of weeds, a haunt of ghuls, a repository of our curses.

Mikalatos: Look unto the garden of weeds, my friends. What do you see?

Chorus: Behold! The weeds have disappeared as silently as the neighbors themselves.

Mikalatos: Yes, for I took my lawn mower, whose name is Arondight, and I did a great and mighty work upon the monstrous weeds which had threatened to rule over us. And do you know what I found beneath those tree-like weeds?

Chorus: Was it a dead mouse?

Mikalatos: Yes, I did find a dead mouse. But that is not the thing of which I speak.

Chorus: Was it a phone book?

Mikalatos: Yea, verily, I did find even three phone books beneath the shade of the weeds, bereft of their plastic coats and discarded there by careless owners or strange miscreants of yellowed pages. But this also is not the thing of which I speak.

Chorus: Soda bottles? Beer cans? Hidden shrubbery?

Mikalatos: Yea, all these things and more I found. Arondight stutttered when first she found a phone book, and I feared she would not stir to life again. She cried out in a shriek of metal and plastic upon the discovery of the empty bottles. She held herself back at the sight of a hidden shrub, rescued by her twin blades from the desperate shadows which had threatened and choked it. Cigarettes I found and an abundance of discarded trumpery. But even these are things of which I do not speak.

Chorus: You amaze us with your tale. What did you find beneath those weeds, O Neighbor?

Mikalatos: A treasure, my friends, and one which I will take in payment for my mighty deeds of renown.

Chorus: We have seen no treasure. What treasure do you speak of? Is it the treasure of a job well done? Is it the treasure of a good deed which will bring you much pleasure? Is it the treasure of the pleasure of looking across the street and seeing your handiwork displayed for all to see?

Mikalatos: No.

Chorus: We are unable to continue. Our imaginations fail us and words come only haltingly to our tongues.

Mikalatos: Here is the tale of the treasure. After my task was completed I spied a hole in the ground, previously covered by the noxious weeds. A moment of contemplation encouraged me to thrust my arm into the hole and here is what I found: a tiny thing like a man in a blue coat, and his wife, who was like a rabbit. He thanked me bravely for my unasked for kindness, although I had nearly collapsed his home with Arondight. And in token of his favor he gave me a silver flute, marvelously small, and when I play upon it he has promised that my garden will grow in unaparalleled splendor, and money will fall out of all our pillowcases, and the frogs surrounding out house will sing lullabies for our children in voices sweet as honey.

Chorus: Whoa. That's really weird.

Mikalatos: I know, right? I thought that was weird, too.

Obviously, Mom is not around today

A (from upstairs): DAD! I DON'T HAVE ANY CLOTHES!

Me (Downstairs): YOU'RE CRAZY! I PUT ALL YOUR CLOTHES AWAY YESTERDAY!

A: MY DRAWERS ARE EMPTY!

Me: Come here.

A: WHAAAAT?

Me: COME HERE!

A: OKAY!

(thump thump thump thump down the stairs)

A: There are no clothes in my drawer.

Me: Do you remember yesterday when your drawer wouldn't close because I had put so many clothes in them?

A: Yes.

Me: But now there are no clothes in your drawer?

A: They are in the wrong drawer.

Me: So. Get your clothes. Out of the wrong drawer.

A: Okay!

(Thump thump thum--)

A: DAD! Z IS WEARING MY CLOTHES!

Z: THEY WERE IN MY DRAWER!

Me: Come here.

Z and A: WHAAAAAAAT?

Me: COME HERE!

Z and A: OKAY!

Z (upset): These aren't mine but they were in my drawer!

Me: Sigh. Listen. I put your clothes away yesterday. I can't always tell whose clothes are whose. So if you find your sister's clothes in your drawer... don't wear them. Give them to your sister.

Z (still upset): But now I can't get this shirt off! It's too small.

Me (helping her get the shirt off): A general rule of life is, "If you can't get the shirt on, it's probably not yours."

Z: I could get it on, I just couldn't get it off.

The children finally arrived, Z dressed with clothes from her drawers and A dressed in the clothes that Z had returned to her.

A touching moment of love... and murder

Krista and I went hiking up near Sunriver last week. It was the Three Creeks trail, headed up to the Green Lakes. It was a spectacular hike... I'm sure Krista will put up more pictures later this week.

Here's a moment early in the hike.

Krista (with her camera): Take another step backward.

Me (looking at the drop to the river below): Is this the part where you try to murder your husband?

Krista: (Silence.)

Me: Just remember, I have the car keys.

Krista: I have car keys, too.

Can you hear me now?

I received a phone call today on my cell phone.

Me: Hello?

Woman: Hi.

Me: Hi.

Woman: Hold on a minute. Honey, take the phone.

Man: Hello?

Me: Hi.

Man (in a deep voice): Where are you located?

At this point I needed to stop and assess my world view. There are a lot of answers to a question like "Where are you located?" My first instinct would be to say, "The guest room, folding laundry." Two problems with this answer: one, "Where are you located?" makes it sound like a more specific location is being inquired about. Second, he didn't ask me what I was doing.

So I thought some more. Perhaps I should say, "I am located in the center bedroom on the southern side of my house, a room which we refer to as the guest room"? I began to suspect that he *knew* where I was located and was testing me in some way. He wanted to know if I was honest, wanted to know if I was the kind to play cat and mouse games. But no, not me. Not with strangers. I learned my lesson that time I ended up running down the streets of Las Vegas, taking instructions from a creepy disembodied voice coming from my cell phone while a cabal of criminals tried to take their ill-gotten gains back from me. Or maybe that was a movie I saw, I forget.

Man (impatient): I am located on [some streets not near your neighborhood*].

Me: I think -- Yes. I think you have the wrong number.

Man: Is this Half Price Pots?

Me: No, it is not.

Man: You dialed the wrong number.

Woman (shrieking): Honey, I dialed the same number as last time!

*Click*

Me: Good-bye.

* They were, in fact, calling from Bellevue, Washington. They had put the wrong area code in.

Eavesdropping with Matt (Episode Twenty-Four)

Dedicated to the middle-aged checker at Winco who served me as I bought my morning groceries, and to the young woman who also worked at Winco who came out to speak to him as he scanned those same groceries.

Young Woman: I couldn't sleep at all last night. I got up at four in the morning.

Checker: I was sound asleep at that time.

Young Woman: Dreaming about me, right?

Checker: You're the only person worth dreaming about.

(The young woman walks away.)

Checker (to me): I know. She's young enough to be my daughter. I know.

Me: (Silence. Trying to think of an appropriate response.)

Checker: That's what my daughter tells me, too.

welcome to the Revolution

As you know, I like to occasionally point out the search engine queries that wash unsuspecting surfers onto our little island here at BHR.

Here are some of my favorites from today (I've included the links these poor people were subjected to, also):

First, we have the "Danger Ninja." Seems redundant to me, but if you were searching for a ninja before and found a "Safety Ninja" I could see that you might want to be more specific. Once bitten, twice shy.

"Hammer and Sickle, Burning Heart." We're number one on that search. I know you people all think BHR is communist, but I want you to remember the Ladies Revolution Pants, THE OFFICIAL PANTS OF THE BURNING HEARTS REVOLUTION. Once they were a figment of our imagination, and now they are being manufactured by North Face. Sounds like capitalism to me, Baby.

Someone came looking for the Portland office Christmas party. I don't remember this clearly, but I think we all went to Benihana's and tried to get the waitresses to come back to our party. This was in December. I guess it's never too late to plan for next year.

Some poor soul came looking for Men's Retreat Slogans and was directed to my Monkey Island Slogans from last November. Looks like the slogan for First Baptist Church of Miami's men's retreat will be recycled from Monkey Island. Several of the slogans would work just fine in either context.

Others came looking for movie stars who live in Florida, Captain Huggy Face, or to learn about the physical effects of fasting. Quite a collection of people we get around here.

Welcome to the Revolution, my friends. We're glad to have you here with us.

Be sure to read this post for at least half an hour

The National Endowment for the Arts has uploaded some fascinating research on reading. You can see changes over the last ten years in various age groups and education levels for recreational reading, standardized reading comprehension tests and more. It's great reading. Ahem.

Anyway, it's a long report, so just read the executive summary. Wouldn't want you to read too much. Ha.

Via Michael Miller.

Don't Let Yourself Go

One of my single friends recently told me that several of her friends have said, "Don't let yourself go or you'll never get married." I immediately sensed my own incipient rage building to intolerable levels. To prevent myself from flying off the handle (Yes, I have a handle.) I decided to use my enormous intellect to figure out why someone would say something like this. I came up with a traditional tri-lemma (the best ones use alliteration so you can remember the three choices without referring to a note card). Why would someone say this to a woman? It could be one of three things: One, they could be Idiots. Two, they could be Ignoramuses. Three, they could be Iniquitous. Idiot, Ignoramus, Iniquitous.

IDIOT. Perhaps they are too stupid to recognize the patent falseness of their statement. Perhaps they have never noticed that not every woman who gets married looks like someone from the cover of a magazine.

IGNORAMUS. Perhaps they, like the character in the 1615 play by George Ruggle, are simply ignorant. This is another way to say that maybe they are more inexperienced than Stupid. It's possible I guess.

INIQUITOUS. In other words, evil. I favor this interpretation, as the theory that a woman's main marriageable quality is her body is clearly one spawned by demons. Although some people will use the Bible verse, "Women, be sure that your body is thin and anemic so that your husband will be attracted to you -- for lo, a man cannot be attracted to a woman unless she looks like an air-brushed, half-starved, surgically-enhanced and unattainable cover model" I assert that this verse is taken out of context. In fact, it seems that women are regularly encouraged NOT to become caught up in their outward appearance. You know that old verse, "Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. ^Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. <sup>" (I Peter 3:3-4 NIV)

Okay, some of you think I am being harsh. You are thinking, "C'mon, Matt, it could be that these friends are just victims of the culture which they live in and meant no harm by saying that your friend should be sure to focus on her outward appearance to make sure to draw a mate." I will grant you this point. But it seems to me that even if we are parroting the evil philosophy of our culture, that doesn't make the philosophy more acceptable. "The culture deceived me and I ate." Doesn't sound too convincing to me.

I am not denying that people care about exterior appearance. I'm not denying that many relationships start from across the room when someone says, "Hey, I like the looks of that person." I am denying that this is the most important aspect a woman should be concerned about in finding a prospective mate.

That's why I've taught my kids an important lesson. If a man ever comes up to them and says, "Don't let yourself go or you'll never find a husband" I have given them clear directions: Kick the guy in the crotch and say, "And you'd better toughen up or you'll never find a wife."</sup>

News about the New Star Trek movie (For Kerri)

I have plenty of problems, but one of the biggest is my inability to be a committed enough fanboy to matter. I like comics, but I don't have a tattoo of Superman. I like(d) Star Wars back when it mattered but I never cared enough to cross-relate the comics to the movies to the novels. I never stood in line for the opening movie of any franchise dressed as the characters. I never had my face surgically altered to look like a Klingon. In the world of weird fans I'm just a mediocre side note.

But right now my friend Kerri is trying hard to become a Trekker, so I thought I would give her some early notice about next year's Star Trek movie. Here's the recently released teaser posters, with pictures of the new Kirk, Spock and Uhura, as well as the Romulan bad guy "Nero." Direction is by JJ Abrams, the LOST guy, so I think this might actually be worth going to see.

Oh, and Kerri-- don't make any plans for May 8th of next year.

Daddy's Birthday (A Story by A)

Today is daddy's birthday. So everyone comes to have some fun. There's ice cream and cake for everyone. So everybody that Daddy invites comes to his birthday party. It was a swimming party. Ha ha. Everybody swam. Once everybody had dried off we had cake and ice cream. And then everybody went home. THE END.

Goodbye doody. And story named by A.

I didn't feel like blogging yesterday

And yet somehow the world goes on. More Pearls Before Swine here.

Awwwww!

My beautiful wife put up a blog post for my birthday today. Thanks! And thanks to all of you who sent me birthday wishes and so on. I appreciate it.

We went out to lunch at Muchas Gracias. This is my favorite restaurant here in Vancouver. One, it is a Mexican restaurant. Two, it has "authentic" prices (it's a one '$' restaurant). Three, it's open 24 hours a day. Have I ever gone to it in the middle of the night? No. But it gives me a warm feeling of comfort to know that the option is there. Afterwards the kids bought me ice cream. Pralines and cream on a plain cone. Yum!

And, a few notes from "today in history":

1) In 1821, Spain cedes Florida to the U.S. Now that's just weird, because I just got back from Florida yesterday.

2) In 1955 Disneyland opened to the public. Also weird, because I just got back from Orlando yesterday, where we were going to Disney World.

3) David Hasselhoff turns 56 today. Which is weird because (a) it's David Hasselhoff... who knew I shared a birthday with him? and (b) I am 34, which is like "34-56". Somewhere there's a twelve year old kid with a birthday today who completes our numerical connection.

Mikalatos Dance Fever!

Here's a little birthday greeting that Sarah Son sent my way:

Send a JibJab Sendables® eCard Today!

It's appearing here for a limited time because one of the members of our dance troupe has political aspirations.

Movie Review: Wall*E

We all know the story:

In the 1980s a robot designed for war gets struck by lightning and develops a personality and a conscience, and sets out to spread his message of peace.

Wait, wait. Let me try that again. Seven hundred years in the future a robot designed for planetary cleanup watches "Hello, Dolly" and develops a personality and a conscience, and sets out to spread his message of -- uh -- holding hands. And planetary cleanup (?). Even more spoilers await you if you choose to read on.

If you are an animation fan, you've already seen this movie. Yes, it's amazing in that sense. In fact, the interspersion of filmed clips into the animated bits is virtually seamless. It simply doesn't look that different than the excellent animation.

The story could have been a five minute Pixar short, however. The short before the movie, by the way, was hilarious and I would have gladly watched a movie about the magician and his trouble-making rabbit.

Things that bother me about movies like Wall*E are mostly related to the lazy world-building. Why did the world have a complete ecosystem collapse to make it uninhabitable for seven hundred years? Why would the first photosynthetic occurrence happen inside a refrigerator, where there would be no light (and presumably no rain)? How would this super plant survive the abuse it receives throughout the movie (including being exposed to hard vaccuum in space? Why did the people of earth have the technology to make enormous spaceships and complex robots but not the capacity to let the robots speak like people instead of like voice modulated answering machines? What has caused the complete collapse of human (and robot) personality to the place that the most affable and enjoyable beings in the movie are a beat up robot and a lone cockroach?

Why is it that even the villain is unclear? Is it the vast Wal-Martish corporation? Perhaps, but they are also the movie's saviors, as they invented Wall-E, kept the human race alive for seven hundred years and then returned them to earth. Is it the robot programmed to keep the human race alive and in space? I guess. He's about as threatening as a rogue paperclip, though. Or perhaps it is the combined forces of ubiquitous trash and an unstoppable flood of human obesity. Not exactly great enemies for a movie of this type.

Which may be why the kids kept trying to go to sleep. And Krista and I kept yawning. Don't get me wrong, the movie had its moments. But they were spread out over too long a period. If you had packed all the good stuff into a twenty minute mini-movie it would have been great. Award-winning, even. But as it stands it starts to give you that "I've been stranded in space for seven hundred years and I just want to go home" sort of feeling.

RATED G. Get a good night's sleep the night before.

Help is on the way... as quietly as possible

On the way out of the hotel today I noticed an enormous greenish-yellow fire truck parked outside. A hotel manager stood nearby, speaking to one of the firefighters.

Manager: --upsets our customers.

Firefighter: I understand, sir, and I've asked the ambulance to turn off its siren when it gets close.

The Haunted Mansion

On the bus from Disney back to our hotel, A got into a conversation with the people in the seat next to us. Their favorite attraction at the park had been the Haunted Mansion, which we did not enter. A asked what it was, and I explained it was a house with pretend ghosts in it.

A: I don't think I would like going into that place, because I don't understand 'ghost words.'

Me: Ghost words? What do you mean?

A: I don't think I would understand what the ghosts are saying because I don't understand their words.

Me: What sort of words do you think the ghosts would use?

A: Words like 'Haunted' and 'mansion.'

Favorite T-shirt of the Day

A simple and unattractive pink t-shirt with a slogan that read, "FASHION. It's all that matters."

Eavesdropping With Matt (Episode Twenty-Three)

Dedicated to the ten-year-old boy at Disney World who gave me a hearty laugh as I crossed from Adventure Land into Tomorrow Land. Well done, young man, well done.

Young Man: SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS! Where is he?

When your kids team up against you

We picked the kids up at the Orlando airport yesterday. Krista's Dad flew in with them, and we loaded up into the rental car and headed for our hotel. The kids were exhausted after the long day of travel, and pretty much anything could set them off into fits of crying. But they still had the strength to double team me... watch this interaction.

A (crying): I want to go to Disney World right now!

Me: We're going to Disney World for two days starting tomorrow.

A (crying): We're only going to Disney World for two days? Waaaaagh!

Me: You know, when I was a kid we only went to theme parks for one day. We would go in the morning and then we'd leave when the park was closed. We never went to Disney for two days in row.

Z: Daddy?

Me: Yes?

Z: Tomorrow is your lucky day.

Learn a New World

Today was "Learn a New World" day. Shane led us in the word again, and then Krista taught on the Biblical basis of missions, using several stories from the Old Testament. It was great, really well done. It's a privilege to be married to a woman of such extraordinary passion for God. She also led us in a lot of cultural learning, and Shasta helped out with a talk of her own and introducing us to some cultural games, which was great fun.

The big secret about tomorrow is that the provided lunch is going to be Indian food... taking a page from our church's handbook of mission's training. We're going to force everyone to eat without utensils, which should be fun. I'm looking forward to it. Maybe we'll get some photos. Ha.

I love our conferences like this. It's great to be with people headed around the world and I love being with our good friends and co-workers here.

The only real problem is the bed. I told Krista, it seems like you've been so far away all week. And she pointed out that the bed is four inches wider than ours back home. Which is about a foot and half too far.

Florida Moment of the Day: The cops were in the parking lot of the movie theatre tonight, taking a statement from a tiny bald person. A lot of kids dressed up like gang members hovered around, as if watching. Also, I learned that Kissimmee is pronounced KisSIMee. Not "kiss-a-me". Which means less Italian kissing comments. Oh well.

Love the Lord

Today was "Love the Lord" day at our stint team leader's training. My good buddy Shane Sebastian led us in the word in the book of Jeremiah and it was excellent. Then I taught on leading your team to Love the Lord for a while and we had most of the day set aside after that for people to spend time with God. In the evening we had sharing time and communion and overall it was a rewarding but exhausting day. Now I'm off to bed, because it's already the middle of the night here, even though it's not on the west coast.

This is because Florida is like another country.

Favorite Florida moment today: When it rained a little and someone asked, "Is this a hurricane?"

Not in the NW anymore

Weird cultural things I've seen or learned in Florida:

1) They don't care how many plastic bags you get your groceries in. If you say, "Oh, I just need one bag" or "I don't need a bag" they look at you like you are crazy.

2) If you drop something, it will start rotting before it hits the ground.

3) Alligators. People say they aren't dangerous. They say they won't bother you. Then they say something like, "Of course, they can run faster than a horse." Followed by, "But if one starts to chase you, just zig-zag and it will get confused." Um. How much of a head start do I get?

4) Also they say things like, "Snakes here are more scared of you than you are of them. They aren't even poisonous. They won't hurt you. Unless you corner a water moccasin on her nest." Me: "Aren't water moccasins poisonous?" Them: "Yes. Very."

5) Grocery store carries food like "marshmallow salad." Also, "Ham salad." Also, other things called salad made out of mayonnaise plus something else. Mostly mayonnaise.

6) Grocery stores think it will get them more customers to have the slogan "The Beef People."

7) Okay, I already mentioned the alligators, but come on people, they are giant lizards. When our friend said that alligators don't hurt people I said, what about that guy who got attacked a couple of weeks ago? She asked what happened. I said, he went swimming in a pond and halfway across it attacked him. She said, Oh yeah, you should never swim in the ponds here.

8) Followed by another friend telling us about the brain-eating amoeba in the ponds. I am not kidding. Look it up.

We haven't actually seen any gators or amoeba so far. And the weather has been great.

ROCKET VAN!

We had a full fourth of July.

It started with the parade. Krista has pictures, but my parents' neighborhood held a big kids' parade, where they all decorated their bikes and rode a few blocks. Z won best decorated bicycle, and A won "most patriotic girl". Then there were horse rides, free hot dogs and prizes. I ate two hot dogs because this is the United States of America.

Then we went home and Krista made buffalo chicken salad, and I ate too much of that (as if to prove I was an American). THEN she brought out the strawberry shortcake and I ate too much of that, too.

In the late afternoon we joined the crew of a boat belonging to the Sea Scouts and set out to watch the fireworks from the Columbia River. And three hours later we did just that. One of the women who runs the boat made homemade fried chicken. So I ate too much for dinner, also.

When we arrived back at the quay the kids were asleep and everyone was exhausted, with the exception of the people in the parking lot who were using our van as their base of operations to launch fireworks. It was too over-dressed couples who would launch a firework, ooooh and aaaaah, make out briefly and then do it all over again. I brushed the firework detritus from the roof of the van and we drove home through the smoky haze.

It was a great time, actually, a lot of fun with my parents and Krista's mom and the kids and each other. Thanks for a great 4th to my family, especially Krista, Janet and Mom.

Now we're at the airport, on our way to Orlando for the stint team leader training. It's a little much to be leaving only a few hours after we got home from the fireworks, but sometimes that's the way it works.

Eavesdropping With Matt (Episode Twenty-Two)

Dedicated to the Russian (?) musician duo -- one old, one young -- getting on our flight to Chicago this morning, and to the gate attendant who served them.

Young Musician: I'd like to make sure we can carry on our instruments.

Attendant: The size limit on the guitar is forty inches. So if it fits within those requirements we can take it.

Old Musician: Ees not a Gueetar. Ees a feedle. So what ees the size reestriction for a feedle?

Stranger Danger: Ninja in the Neighborhood

Ninja sighting causes school lockdown in New Jersey.

'Nuff said.

I think I might be addicted to calling 911

After the big thunderstorm last night, one of the neighborhood intersection lights is out. Not just out, but flashing red in three direction but also still showing a green light to the south and north. In an interesting study of human nature, this means that the people on the "green" sides of the light didn't even slow down despite the "mixed signals" of having both a green light and a flashing red light.

I debated calling 911 after watching several people nearly get creamed in the half a minute I spent at the light.

Then I decided I better do it. This is the third time in recent history that I've called 911, the first being the fist fight in our neighborhood and the second being the drug deal I saw in southern Vancouver.

I've noticed that I've become better at this each time. The first time I felt uncertain, shaky-voiced and couldn't remember the name of the street I was on. The second time I apologized and said I wasn't sure this was a good reason to call (to which the 911 operator said, as I recall, "*Sigh* What is the nature of the emergency, sir?") Today I quickly and professionally outlined the problem, gave my information and signed off.

I don't know if they need a super-hero like this, but from now on you can call me... THE INFORMER.

Or THE RAT FINK, whichever you fancy.

P.S. Thanks to the fine people at 911, who help keep us safe. Keep up the good work.

And thou, all-shaking thunder, Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!

At two a.m. we awoke to a sound like every metal trash can in the world and half the bowling balls being dropped from a height onto our cars. This was immediately followed by a call for Daddy. It wasn't me, it was one of the kids.

More thunder followed, and car alarms around the neighborhood started squealing. Then the hail started.

I wandered the hallways, making sure everyone was okay, and A ended up in bed with us. We haven't gone outside yet to see if we were struck by lightning, or if the vegetables survived their drubbing.

If the kids had been older and unkind, and I was a king, and I was outside with a fool I would have felt just like King Lear.

A Revisionist History of Star Wars

Tonight I told my daughters, Z and A, and my nephew J and abbreviated version of the Star Wars trilogy (eps 4-6). It started getting a little silly at about the time Luke Skywalker attacked the Death Star.

Me: And then -- bad news --

A: Skip the bad news!

Me: The TIE fighters came out of the Death Star and started to attack!

J: And then a Thai person came out, too.

Me: Um. Okay.

A: And then an Englishman.

Me: Sure. So these TIE fighters and the Thai person and the Englishman all chase Luke down into this trench --

A: And a Spaniard!

Me: And a Spaniard --

J: And a Chinese guy!

Me: Uh-huh, and --

About ten nationalities later they let Luke blow up the Death Star. But when we got to the victory celebration on the planet Yavin, A insisted on talking through what everyone was wearing, making modifications as she saw fit, and also spending quite some time talking about how carefully Chewbacca combed his fur.

Barely into "Return of the Jedi" A came up with a new innovation... she wanted a pegasus added in, and Han Solo and Leia had to ride it. So I added that in during the speeder bike chase. Then she wanted Tweety Bird to show up and talk with Leia and the ewoks, so we did that, too.

Then J decided that the Emperor should be Tweety Bird. (NOTE: In Mikalatos stories, Tweety Bird not only talks funny, she also purposely mangles everyone's names.) Which gave rise to scenes like this one:

Darth Vader: I have brought the young Skywalker to you, My Master.

Emperor Tweety: Oooooh, dat's wonderful. I wuv getting a new Skippywalkee.

Luke: Skywalker.

Emperor: Dat's what I saaaaaid, Skippywalkee.

He also calls Darth Vader "Dark Voodeepoo." In the end, Darth Vader throws the Emperor over into the abyss and the Emperor shouts, "Ooooh! My electrecaticity is shooting all over de pwace!" Then Darth Vader says, "I'm glad he's gone. He was a little annoying."

Then there's the big party at the end. By now Han Solo has also been turned into Tweety Bird. Everyone is saying silly things to each other. Ghost Yoda is made at everyone for calling him Yahoo... a name that Han Tweety gave him and they all adopted. At the very end Chewbacca gets mad because Han keeps calling him "Chewbobby" and he picks him up and throws him over the trees and Han yells "Yaaaaaaaaaha ha hoooie!" and lands in a river.

The End.

Then Z looked up from her book and said, "Hey, did I miss the part where Darth Vader cuts off Luke's hand?"

That ain't the half of what you missed, kid.

Louis Vs. The Orange Army

Dad and I went to Home Depot today to get some bits to fix up our sprinklers. We had a broken wax washer and we needed a new one.

The first game at Home Depot, of course, is "Seek the Employees." The employees try to hide from you, but have rigid rules they must follow. For instance, they have to wear orange vests, which makes them clearly visible from great distances. They have various techniques to overcome this, one of which is to hang out near shoppers wearing orange shirts. Also, they have a superior knowledge of the rat warren/warehouse maze and can slip in and out of the stacks like the Phantom of the Opera. Another rule they have to follow is that if you actually speak to them, they do have to make some attempt to answer your question. This is a deadly cycle, because other shoppers will see an employee helping someone and run -- sometimes as far as a mile -- to get up close to them and quickly shout out another question before the little orange leprechauns can escape.

Another technique they'll try is to give you a false answer that appears to be a true answer. Like so:

Dad: Can you tell us where to find washers?

Home Depot Employee: What kind?

Dad: I think it's felt.

HDE: Oh, metal. That would be aisle two.

Later, Dad and I discussed whether she actually misunderstood the whole "felt" thing.

Me: You said 'felt' right?

Dad: Yeah, I should have said 'fiber.'

Me: Maybe she misunderstood us when she sent us to the metal washers.

Dad: I just said the first 'F' word that came to mind.

We searched out another employee, one of the rare and harassed "stationary" employees who sit behind a desk in hidden alcoves, providing a diversion for their roving, orange-clad brethren. We made bonus points when he revealed the secret "plumber phone" in a hidden aisle, where we could summon someone to help us. But we found another employee just before using the Red Phone, and she pointed out "What we have" which was... not what we needed.

In the end we had to go find an actual plumbing supply store... Grover Electric and Plumbing Supply. We walked in and immediately a gentleman named Louis called us over to his service station, took one look at the faucet in my hand and leapt away, only to return with a small plastic baggie filled with all the replacement bits for our faucet, including the Washer We Sought. Then he disassembled our faucet, which was hard to unscrew (in fact, Louis called upon the name of Jesus many times while he struggled to get it apart). He finally broke the handle with some special tool, put it all together, gave us advice about when we reassembled things at the spicket, and even gave us a quick tutorial about where we could expect leaks if there was trouble: "If that O-ring doesn't seal in there tight, water gets in the pipe, comes down this way and right out that fricking hole." Yes, that is verbatim.

In the end, Louis saved us at least forty minutes. And he said fricking, which is a sure sign that he is a knowledgeable plumber and not part of the orange army. So, let us extend many thanks to Louis, He of the Superior Plumbing Knowledge. He said to us in parting, "I bet you're glad you didn't go to Home Depot, aren't ya?" We nodded and exchanged knowing smiles. Only suckers shop at Home Depot, and we were not suckers. No, we possessed a knowledge arcane and strange, wild and untamed as the planets, fixed and predictable as the stars. For we were part of that ancient brotherhood, the fricking plumbers.

The End.

News From My Neighborhood

My Baby Wrote Me a Letter. Shasta struck up a conversation with our Neighbor to the North, Derek, who shared his suspicions about why the Tongan family to our northwest suddenly moved out not too long ago. It seems that they were receiving disturbing hate mail that said things like "We hate you and we want you to move." Turns out he's been getting hate mail from someone about his cars and parking them on the street and so on. Of course the main suspect is our neighbor directly west who, yes, probably is the one who called in their cars. And who has the fake dogs barking and the cameras in the windows. Is this really true? I'm not so sure. We haven't had any issues with any of our neighbors, and I really wish our Tongan neighbors had told us about the hate mail. Then we could have (a) called the cops and (b) walked around to the neighbors and told them "Hey, someone in the neighborhood is writing hate mail." Maybe they would have stopped. Makes me sad that our neighbors moved out because of that, if that's what happened.