Strange Behavior

Yesterday, I had the chance to witness odd behavior. Maybe there was something in the water or the temperature of the air was just right, but I saw some freaky things on my way home from work.

Incident #1:

I left my downtown office and am walking up the block to my car which is parked on a surface parking lot. It’s not really a surface parking lot, but rather the top deck of an under ground parking garage. It feels like a surface parking lot because it’s entrance is on street level and then the sidewalk drops off. I notice a twenty-something guy standing at the top of the concrete wall guard rail up ahead and as I walk buy him I said “hey.” He was just staring over the wall doing nothing. I noticed he had a beer in his hand. He seems like the kind of guy I would see in Westport, which is where I used to work. Westport is home to a lot clubs and eateries. Anyway, my instincts told me that something odd was happening and I started running scenarios in my head. I figured he was probably standing close to my car, so I wanted to be observant of what was going on to be ready and smart for when I entered the parking lot. Sure enough, he was standing right in front of my car really close to the wall. Why doesn’t he move? I am getting in my car now…I am turning on the engine…Aren’t you afraid I might forget to put the car in reverse and ram into you pinning your legs against the wall? He’s still not moving. I didn’t; I am backing up now and he’s finally walking away now. I look over to where he was and then it hits me (or should I say thank goodness it didn’t hit me.) Splatter that is. Yep, he was peeing and there was the stained concrete wet with urine streaming downward toward the nearest drain. Caught in the act! Next time go to the back of the lot, buddy.

Incident #2:

This was interesting and I still don’t know what to make of it. I am on 635 heading south going up the big hill towards Shawnee Drive. I hear the sputter of motorcycles ahead of me. They are loud. I see that there are two motorcycles, but they look like they are driving really close to each other. Maybe it is a weird perspective on my part, so I move over a couple of lanes and drive faster to see what is going on. It looks like they have their hands on each other bikes. I need to keep my distance, because this doesn’t look safe. I move back over a lane and speed by them. Yep, one guy had a hold of the others handle bars. Were they trying to tow? I looked in my review mirror and they had separated and one sped in front of the other and they both headed off the exit ramp. I don’t know what to make of that. Sometimes I’ll ask my wife to hold the wheel, if I need to take my jacket off. Maybe that was the case.

Now playing:
New Order – Waiting for the Sirens Call

The Week of April 25th

Listening to:

New Order – waiting for the sirens call
Starflyer 59 – talking voice vs. singing voice
Over the Rhine – Drunkard’s Prayer
The Innocence Mission – befriended
The Innocence Mission – birds of my neighborhood
Moby – Hotel
Lord of the Rings - BBC Radio Drama (at work)

Reading:

The Restaurant at the End of the Universe
Searching for God Knows What
Relevant Magazine May-June issue

Shopping for Clothes

I sort of need some new work clothes. Not badly, but I could be in the market for a new shirt or slacks. I always freeze up when I go looking for clothes. I think it is because I am so picky I don’t want to waste the other person’s time. I’d rather shop by myself. To be honest, I am bored with the choice of clothes. Sometimes, there are so many shirts to choose from that I can’t make a choice at all. I really don’t want to shop for ‘work’ clothes. I’d rather get a new pair of jeans and wear dark t-shirts with a nice belt and a good pair of kickers with a cool jacket on the side. That is my dress code. I call it the “American Classic.” It doesn’t involve much shopping or decision making and will never go out of style. So when I am at the Gap looking at all their spring shirts being all colorful and stripped and pink and bright, I go straight to the sale rack and find just what I am looking for: a long sleeve black button down shirt on sale for less than 15 dollars. Yeah, I know I already have one, but this one has black buttons; my other has white and the price is good. I also find some dark brown pants for under 20. I am looking in my closet right now and I don’t see any color. It is all black, navy, and dark brown. Maybe I should be your stereotypical rock star or architect, oh wait.

Forget clothes; let’s shop for music.

Dressing Rooms

My wife and I had a chance to leave the kids with a sitter and run around to do some errands and go out to eat. It is a rare activity these days for us to do that without any kids, so we hit it hard. We love running errands, bumming around all day going store to store.

One of our stops brought us to Old Navy. Mrs. Forrest had a return to make and wanted to get some new shorts for the summer. She had 10 or so items to try on and I went with her into the dressing room. I am not sure what the proper dressing room behavior or etiquette should be, but I am always a little uncomfortable waiting outside of the door.

First of all, Old Navy dressing rooms are always crowded, so I feel like I am dancing the two step with the teenage worker to get out of her way so she can put the number tags on the door levers whenever someone new comes in with 8 items of clothes.

Secondly, while I am waiting, I don’t know where to look. I don’t want to stand face first looking directly into the door Mrs. Forrest is in. I lean with my back against her door frame. Is it rude to watch people’s ankles under the door as they try on clothes? If I stare up at the ceiling, that will give away the fact that I am uncomfortable being there. I think confidence is the key to being in a weird environment. I can’t help but stare at people when they come out of a room to look at a mirror or get advice from a friend or parent. Should I help out too? “I’d try the next size up.” “Those stripes really aren’t becoming of you.” “I think you nailed it there.” I watch any human movement in the dressing room. The teenage worker is scurrying about at the front of the room with the task of hanging and folding clothes. Should I watch her work? I hope that doesn’t weird her out. Uh oh! New people to try on clothes and there is another person standing outside the door. Don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact! So I make the rounds: Look and comment about Mrs. Forrest’s clothes, watch a few ankles, check out the door that just swung open and the people coming out, watch the teenage worker fold and hang, count closed doors, and then look at the other person standing nearby without making eye contact. Repeat this process over and over until all ten items have been tried on and commented on.

The third weird thing about dressing rooms is the whole female factor. Old Navy is coed, but some of the other stores we go to are just female clothes. I don’t know the rules. Are guys allowed in dressing room? I only feel weird about it, because I don’t want anybody to think of me as weird Uncle Digory. And that goes back to the “what do you look at while you are waiting outside the door.”

The week of April 18th

This week I am listening to:

Starflyer 59 – the talking voice vs. the singing voice
Over the Rhine – drunkard’s prayer
Moby – hotel
The 77’s – sticks and stones
U2 – achtung baby
Slowdive – just for a day
The Lord of the Rings – BBC radio drama (at work)
Plus a random mix on my ipod.

I am reading:

The Restaurant at the End of the Universe – Douglas Adams
Searching for God Knows What – Donald Miller
The book of James
Paste Magazine

I have tickets for:

Keane (May)
Thomas the Tank Engine (July)
U2 (December)

Busted by my son

So, just how smart is a 2 year 5 month old?

I tried to pull a quick one on my son, Ewan. Shelley just finished up her portion of the bedtime routine; now it is my turn to come in and read some books, tuck in, and pray. This process can take a while, but tonight I was going to try to do it in 15 minutes so that I could catch the American version of the Office on T.V.

Ewan loves books. His bedroom is pretty bare of toys, but has about thirty or so books stacked and scattered on the floor. They go to library every week and come back with about 15 new books. His favorite books are about cars, trucks, trains, construction equipment and airplanes.

We read through two books and I told him one more book. I grab Dr. Seuss’ “Hop on Pop.” I have never read it before, but it is one his favorite activities except that he calls it “jump on Dad.” I am running short on time and am about halfway through the book. It is longer than the average kid’s book. My friend Dan (who also has a boy 6 months older than Ewan) once told me that he sometimes skips pages to make the book go by faster. I skip a bunch of pages until there are four left at the end. I close the book and say the big “THE END” as I get out of his bed to turn off the lights. Ewan is not ready for the lights to go off; he is telling me to read Mr. Brown and Mr. Black. “Mr. Brown and Mr. Black, I don’t know which book that is,” I tell him as I am looking through all of his books. He crawls out of bed and grabs “Hop on Pop” and tells me to read Mr. Brown and Mr. Black. I flip through the pages and sure enough Mr. Brown and Mr. Black were in the pages I skipped. He busted me! We read through that portion twice.

Later, when I relayed this story to Shelley she said, “The kid’s smart,” and explained how she just got that book out today for the first time and read through it only once. I wish my memory was that good.

The Cottontail Massacre

I had a dreaded feeling in my stomach when I looked over at our beagle who had been curiously sniffing around one of our trees in the backyard. She had something in her mouth. Great, what did animal did she find. A bird? A squirrel? This usually grosses us out to the extent where she can not come inside until she washes her mouth out with soap. She happens to be an annoying licker. I yell at her to “drop it.” It falls to the ground as she starts her guilty walk and rolls on her back in submission. I look at the limp creature and it happens to be a baby bunny. Its eyes are not even open yet. About 10 feet away, I see bunny fur scattered all over the grass. My first thought is that she mauled the mother, but as I investigate the fur came from the rabbit’s burrow that the mother made to keep her liter warm. My 2 ½ year old son is now interested. I show him the burrow and we look at all the baby bunnies sleeping. We then stuff the fur back into the hole and wait for the inevitable. I do my best to set up a barrier around the burrow, but like that is really going to work. It was more of a visual reference to keep my eye on my beagle.

Beagles by the way are rabbit hound dogs. Hunters use beagles to aide in rabbit hunting. What was mother rabbit thinking? Did my beagle talk her into choosing our yard by lavishing the mother rabbit with fine gifts and carrots? (Insert any Michael Jackson analogy here.)

There was nothing I could do. If I moved them they would probably die and if I left them there is no way I could control a beagle’s call in life. I was just worried where the dead bodies might appear in our back yard and was hoping that my son would not find them first.

It happened. It was nighttime. The beagle was let out to do her business. Minutes later, I hear the squeaking cry of the baby bunnies. Their cry for help sounded like those stuffed animals that squeak when you squeeze their belly. I put on my sandals, grabbed a flashlight and headed outside. The beagle came to me immediately. I walked over to the burrow. The sight was freaky. The beagle dug up the hole and 2 feet behind the hole lay four baby bunnies in a perfect row. Execution style. I lay them on a board and dump them over our back fence to join their other fallen brother.

The next day I peaked over the fence to look at the bunnies and they were gone. Either they made a nice snack for a big ugly bird or they decided to become ghosts and haunt our dog. I hope it is the latter as long as she doesn’t bark too much.

Hooray!! I'm Done.

I started work at my new office February 28th and I have been going a hundred miles an hour ever since. I got thrown into a project that needed a lot of work. There was two of us working on it. We put in a lot of hours (even on weekends) and today we sent it out. I think I can relax now, maybe dress up my desk and try to get to know my co-workers better.....unpacking my boxes and putting pictures up on the wall might give my space more personality. The big city library is two blocks away; I think I know what I'm doing during my lunch break.

boys and girls and my boys

My wife and I had a conversation last night that she said that I would probably write about. I think I will because it will allow me to post about future mushy/sappy stuff that us guys usually don’t talk about.

She was saying that guys can be guys and when we get together for coffee or something that we can be who we are and not necessarily what our role is. In otherwords, when we get together we talk about whatever we want. Start it off with a little music chat, then on to movies, maybe talk about work, and then get sidetracked by some weird event one of us has experienced. Rarely, do we check up on each others family. How’s your wife? How are the kids? My wife says that women are more relational and when she gets together with girls, first they have to catch up on the family or siblings and then spend a good deal of time talking about “mom things,” “wife things” or even “dog things.” Not always true, but I think in most cases that is the way it is. When Darwin, Fundi, Dust, BB, and I get together we are just guys. I forget that my friends have wives and some of them have kids. We just sit around and talk about whatever pops in our heads. My wife will always ask me when I come home what we talked about and it is always a struggle to remember. And then she may ask me an important question like “how is BB’s wife doing with her pregnancy? Do they know what sex the kid will be? When is the due date?” “I don’t know. I forgot to ask. But BB wants me to go see Moby with him in a couple of weeks. Do you think I can swing that?”

So here is my sappy family story for the girls (guys you can skip if you want.)

I have a project due tomorrow, so I have been working late this week and last. I know I’ll see Shelley and Eliot (baby) when I get home, but I may not spend much time with Ewan (my 2 year old.) Last night I got home around 9 o’clock and Shelley said he might be awake in his bed. So, I went to peek on him and his face lit up when he saw me. In his sweet little voice he said “Daddy, go night night right here” pointing at the pillow right next to his. He wanted me to lay down with him. We stared into each others eyes and I told him that I missed him today and that I thought about him and mommy and Eliot all day long. I made promises that well play together this weekend. I didn’t want to say too much, because he was in his tired state and could easily be energetic again. I rubbed his head a little bit then stopped. He started to rub my head and then my back. After a while, we said our prayers and then I tucked him in “tight” and kissed him goodnight and closed the door behind me. Eliot being a baby just gave me big smiles when he saw me and as I held him. Being a Dad is cool. (For those of you who don’t know about my secret life.)

The Empty Chair

We have an office wide meeting every Monday morning that takes place next door in a large room to seat about 40 of us in a nice oval shape around a large conference table. We could not meet there today, because that space is getting new carpet so we met in our large conference room today. There are about 12 nice chairs that sit around the table and some of us knowing that brought our own chairs to sit on the outskirts of this table and others sat around the table in the nice chairs. Soon all the nice chairs were take but one and for some reason no one wanted to sit in it. People would peek in the door to see what the seating situation was and then come back with their own chair. While the chair sat empty, some people came in and sat on the floor and others stood in the door way as the meeting got started. Its funny how when you save something (a seat at the table) for someone who may come in later, that they don’t accept it assuming that there must be a reason that the seat is empty or maybe they feel they are not worthy to sit in this nice chair when others have passed it up.

What's Up

Albums that I have been listening to lately:

Over the Rhine-Drunkard's Prayer
Moby-Hotel
Don Chaffer-What You Don't Know
The Arcade Fire-Funeral
M83-Before the Dawn Heals Us
U2-How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
U2-Boy
Eisley-Room Noises
The Golden Republic-s/t
...and tomorrow I plan to listen to SF59-the talking voice vs. the singing voice

Books that I am reading or just have read:

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy-Douglas Adams
Searching For God Knows What-Donald Miller
Get Up Off Your Knees: Preaching the U2 Catalog-various
Black (the Circle trilogy)-Ted Dekker
Red (the Circle trilogy)-Ted Dekker
White (the Circle trilogy)-Ted Dekker (I plan to read this soon.)
A Series of Unfortanate Events (books 1 & 2) -Lemony Snickets

Starflyer 59

I am extremely excited for the new Starflyer album that comes out this Tuesday.
I have been able to preview a few of the songs and you can too, if you click on this link: http://www.toothandnail.com/sf59/talking/ecard/.
They have written another perfect 'pop' song called "good sons." It should make them huge and everyone will recognize their greatness, but it probably go unnoticed. Too bad, because so many of the bands today that are getting a lot of hype wish they could write songs that are half as good as Jason Martin.

Discovering Your Neighbors

We have a new neighbor. He is a single guy with a dog. He is probably in his fifties. I am not sure if he lives in the house next to us yet. It was for sale last summer and the guy who lived their previously was in his '80s and I think he lived their since the 1960. (He was moving to one of the warmer states to live in a condo that is maintenance free.) The interior looked like it hadn't been touched since the 1960's. So, I can understand why our new neighbor said he was going to do some fixing up before he moved in. But I still don't know if he officially is moved in yet. I see him over there a lot working on things, but at night the house seems dark. I really don't know the guy yet and I haven't talked to him a whole lot. I did sign off to say it was okay for him to put a fence up for his little yapper to run around, but I had no idea he was going to put his fence right up next to mine (running parallel.) That is quite odd, I think. What do you do with grass or leaves that fall in between the two fences? Not to mention the fact that his chain link fence is a whole foot higher than mine and the rest of the neighborhoods. I don't think cocker spaniels can jump that high.

Here is next thing that makes me go "mmmh!" about my neighbor. A couple of days ago as I am leaving for work and driving past his house, I see this big blue circular object sitting in his front yard. It is like 3 feet in diameter…a big blue ball. Is it a ball? A bomb? A piece of art? I think it is art. A homing device for spaceships? It looks like it is made of concrete and is sitting on a pedestal. I am not saying this is a bad thing and I love art. I just think it is interesting and wonder what type of person would put a big blue concrete ball in their yard. My old neighbors used to have a little statue of Mary blessing the bushes she was planted in. That told me they were catholic. Should I assume my new neighbor is an alien? An art lover of basic geometric shapes? Or maybe a sales rep for those big aerobic balls?

The Tootsie Roll

I am going to tell you about this guy and his cool trick, but first let me preface with this:

My new office is a smaller operation than my previous place of employment. I think we are around 40 people where my old place was well over 100. We have only one admin/receptionist for the whole office. She sits close to the front door. When the delivery men come to drop something off, they take it to her and she signs for it. When she is not at her desk they look for the closest employee to sign for the package and that happens to be me, because I am the one who sits nearest the receptionist and the front door. It is a pain because I am busy working and would rather not be bothered, but I try it keep a good attitude about it. I am sure it annoys them to have to look for someone in the office for a signature.

So, I am working at my desk and from behind me in a quiet voice I hear, "Excuse me, Sir. Can you sign my clipboard?" Without saying anything or really looking directly at the guy I take the clipboard and sign my name. He seemed to be a tall skinny older man with a big mustache. The kind of guy you would expect to leave outside of town on a farm. I bet he drives an old beat up truck and looks pretty good in a green John Deere cap.

Here is his trick. I hand the clipboard back to him and in one swope motion of his arm, he reaches up to grab it as a tootsie roll goes sliding across my desk. He says thank you and is gone without waiting for a reaction. I am left stunned. How did he do? I didn't see it leave his hand. How long has he done that? He is pretty smooth the way he operates the realease of the tootsie roll and the grab of the clipboard.

The tootsie roll put a smile on my face. I'll try to be more friendly next time I have to sign something.

Motorcycles at work

I work in a new office with new people.
As I am getting to know these new people, I stumbled upon something.
A clue, a riddle into their life.
It says I have this other side of me that likes to ride motorcycles.
How did I find these clues?
It is quite obvious from these five or so people.
People who ride motorcycles like to let you know that they ride motorcycles.
At their desks, I see the usual plants, family pictures, birthday cards, college pride, etc.,
but then I see toy motorcycles or pictures of motorcycles.
I look at the non-motorcyle rider and I don't see pictures of their cars.

I guess if we are to be honest, we probably each have something at our desk to identify ourselves as someone who has another side and that we are not a mind-numbed drone.

However, I have been so busy working that I still haven't made my desk feel like home. The desk is empty, but covered with paper. I better do something quick before everyone sees me as boring.

What do you have?

This weekend...part 2

Here is Part 2. If you haven't read part 1, read it first.

Saturday night, I meet up with some friends to see Don Chaffer play a solo set. My brother-in-law tells me that I won one of the door prizes. He also was at the men's conference. (Just my luck, so this means when there is a drawing for a really cool prize I won't have any winning juice left. I need to repower and that takes forever.) My sister knows that I wouldn't want it, so what is it I ask them? I won the Fear Factor t-shirt and he has it in his car. And I am like what??...they should have redrawn another name from the fishbowl. I told my bnl he could have it and he said he'd wear it. He is a really cool guy and I guess not as shallow as me.

Sunday, we had an extended family dinner at my cousin's house. We are the last ones to get there as usual and there it is....the black shirt. My bnl is wearing the Fear Factor shirt.

I hope he enjoys it!

This weekend...part 1

So on Friday night, I went to the men's conference at our church. I had to sign in and register my name and then they put my name in this fishbowl with other men's names for a drawing to win some fabulous prizes. What could the prizes be? Ipod? Camera? Pocketknife? Baseball tickets? A BBQ set? Watch? A hammer? A tent or something outdoorsy? Nah, when they finally introduced the prizes they were a few small books (I didn't catch any titles, but they looked boring,) a T-shirts, a CD/DVD combo, and the grand prize: 25$ gift certificate at the local Christian bookstore.
I have never been a fan of Christian t-shirts nor I am much of a fan of the show Fear Factor, but someone must have thought combining the two would be an excellent witnessing opportunity. So the person showing off the prizes holds up the t-shirt and it has the Fear Factor logo on it with Joshua 1:9 printed beside it. Even if they didn't try to make the shirt "Christian," I still would be embarrassed to wear the shirt that identifies me a fan of the show. I am well past my preteen years, so I have lost my appeal for gross things. I made a pact with myself that I would not be able to accept that as a prize, but what are my chances. I never win anything.
Generally, I would be pretty excited about a CD and a DVD as a gift, but the same mind who picked out the Fear Factor shirt must have been at work. It is after all a men's conference, with quite a range of ages so it was to no surprise that the CD was one of Michael W. Smith's worship albums. Which to me means a boring singer is cashing in on the worship craze by making a boring worship album. But if you couldn't get enough of the CD the DVD part of the gift was a live recording of Michael W. Smith singing his boring worship songs. Sorry, not my cup of tea. I'll have to pass on that too!
Well actually I didn't care to win anything, I would hate to use my luck on one of these gifts, right! They had the one and only drawing that night and my name was not called. I did not win. I was still safe. Tomorrow, I would not be able to attend the morning session and surely they would not reward me for skipping out.
So, I went home that night and told my wife how lame fear factor and Michael W. Smith were. She agreed!
...more to follow.