Yeah--Jess and the kids came home last night!!! They have been in Idaho at Jess' sister's (Jenny) house. I flew home early Monday morning and they stayed until last night. I have really missed Jess and am so glad to have her home.
The greeting I received from each of my kids re-emphasized the importance of each relationship in my life:
Taylor:
She shyly came down the stairs to the basement (where I had been watching SportCenter) with a card she had made with a picture of us playing soccer. The soccer ball is purple, both of us have blue hair, and a green sun is in the upper left corner. Above the picture she had written the following: "You rae my best Dad. I (heart) U". On the back is written "Dad I love you".
She immediately told me of a surprise she had for me. I told Jess I would unload the Yukon and I had a bubble bath ready for her so she could recover from the five hour drive with the three Crazy's.
Taylor went to help me, anxious to show me her surprise. Boy was I surprised. She had bought a crown-shaped jewelry box at the dollar store. She was so excited to show me. But I could tell by the look on her face that the surprise was about to get better. She pulled out three pairs of earings and held them up for me to see. With a twinkle in her eyes she exclaimed, "Mom bought me these earings at Ross. Aren't you just sooo excited?" I sure was.
Twenty steps later as she was entering the house through the garage door she turned and asked, "Don't you think I should go put them on?"
Absolutely. I should have thought of that myself.
Five steps later, the rule-abiding, always obedient Taylor turned again and asked, "Are you sure it's been six weeks?" The lady at the ear piercing had said six weeks, and Taylor intends to wait exactly six weeks.
Jayson:
He couldn't stop laughing. His four new top teeth are halfway in and very noticeable as he laughs. Jess had him show me how he could walk. He stumbles forward, stops, turns around, starts walking faster and faster until he topples over. Then he bear-crawls in a circle--around and around and around, laughing the entire time. Looks like someone's glad to be home.
Rylee:
The first one down the stairs to meet me in the basement. She jumps to me and wraps her arms and legs around me in a huge bear hug. "Hi Daddy! We been in Boise at Jenny's!"
Thanks Rylee. I wondered where you guys have been all week. Now I know.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Pilates Snob
So I went to my second Pilates class last night.
It was twice as hard as the first one I went to two weeks ago. Almost nothing we did was the same as last time. I have a feeling I might be real sore today.
Last time I noticed there were several people in class that brought their own mats to class. I figured they were either disgusted by the thought of laying down where countless others have been sweating, or they are part of an elitist group of empowered new-age fitness gurus that I refer to simply as "Pilates snobs".
Well, guess who joined the club. That's right, last night I brought my own mat to class. I didn't buy the mat specifically for Pilates, I actually bought it so I could practice sit-ups at home when I was in Boot Camp several months ago. I must have been using it so much that Jess hid it under the bed--which was where I found it last night as I was putting something away (believe it or not--Jess has approved "under-the-bed" as an appropriate storage place for a few of my items).
My mat even has a little handle strap, with a loop at each end (to keep it rolled up in a nice little roll), for convenient transport to and from class.
Bringing my mat to class filled me with a new sense of confidence in my Pilates abilities. I was, however, able to set that confidence aside during class time--particularly when I found myself to be less coordinated now than I was two weeks ago. But I discovered as I rolled up my mat at the end of class, tucked it into the loops, put the strap over my shoulder and slipped on my flip-flops (another sign that you are a hard-core Pilates disciple--wearing flip-flops to the gym), the arrogance came rushing back.
Hi, my name is Sean and I'm a Pilates Snob. If you ever need to borrow a mat for Pilates or Yoga, I have one in the back of my car. That's right. Pilates. Anywhere, anytime. Bring it on.
It was twice as hard as the first one I went to two weeks ago. Almost nothing we did was the same as last time. I have a feeling I might be real sore today.
Last time I noticed there were several people in class that brought their own mats to class. I figured they were either disgusted by the thought of laying down where countless others have been sweating, or they are part of an elitist group of empowered new-age fitness gurus that I refer to simply as "Pilates snobs".
Well, guess who joined the club. That's right, last night I brought my own mat to class. I didn't buy the mat specifically for Pilates, I actually bought it so I could practice sit-ups at home when I was in Boot Camp several months ago. I must have been using it so much that Jess hid it under the bed--which was where I found it last night as I was putting something away (believe it or not--Jess has approved "under-the-bed" as an appropriate storage place for a few of my items).
My mat even has a little handle strap, with a loop at each end (to keep it rolled up in a nice little roll), for convenient transport to and from class.
Bringing my mat to class filled me with a new sense of confidence in my Pilates abilities. I was, however, able to set that confidence aside during class time--particularly when I found myself to be less coordinated now than I was two weeks ago. But I discovered as I rolled up my mat at the end of class, tucked it into the loops, put the strap over my shoulder and slipped on my flip-flops (another sign that you are a hard-core Pilates disciple--wearing flip-flops to the gym), the arrogance came rushing back.
Hi, my name is Sean and I'm a Pilates Snob. If you ever need to borrow a mat for Pilates or Yoga, I have one in the back of my car. That's right. Pilates. Anywhere, anytime. Bring it on.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Sunday Thought--The Three Foot Stone
I came across an article written by an Ethan Bronner (of the New York Times News Service) today while browsing through The Idaho Statesman. The article talked about a three foot stone that was discovered over ten years ago near the Dead Sea in Jordan, but only recently studied by scholars. Instead of engravings, the tablet was written on with ink, in two columns similar to the Torah. It contains 87 lines of Hebrew, but the stone is broken in places and some of the ink has faded. Experts don’t seem to doubt its authenticity (although the results of chemical tests to determine authenticity are still to be published) and are dating the text back to the first Century B.C.
The article stated, “much of the text, a vision of the apocalypse transmitted by the angel Gabriel, draws on the Old Testament, especially the prophets Daniel, Zechariah and Haggai. The expression ‘Thus saith the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel’ appears many times, as does the name Jerusalem”.
The text that is stirring biblical and archaeological circles (according to the article) is the part that “may speak of a messiah who will rise from the dead after three days.” The article points out that this would suggest “that the story of his [Christ’s] death and resurrection was not unique but part of a recognized Jewish tradition at the time.” Daniel Boyarin, a professor of Talmudic culture at Cal Berkeley, reportedly speculates, “some Christians will find it shocking—a challenge to the uniqueness of their theology”. My guess is that some Jews may challenge the authenticity or themselves be just as shocked as some of the Christians Dr. Boyarin referenced. Some will likely ascribe the messianic prophesy as the strange beliefs of some Dead Sea cult rather than accept that Jewish tradition may indeed have actually contained prophesies of a Messiah who would do exactly what most Christians purport Christ to have done.
Mormons will likely just yawn (in a ‘nothing new here’ sort of way). Or like most readers, skip the article entirely since it mentions “Dead Sea Scroll” in the subtitle.
The article stated, “much of the text, a vision of the apocalypse transmitted by the angel Gabriel, draws on the Old Testament, especially the prophets Daniel, Zechariah and Haggai. The expression ‘Thus saith the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel’ appears many times, as does the name Jerusalem”.
The text that is stirring biblical and archaeological circles (according to the article) is the part that “may speak of a messiah who will rise from the dead after three days.” The article points out that this would suggest “that the story of his [Christ’s] death and resurrection was not unique but part of a recognized Jewish tradition at the time.” Daniel Boyarin, a professor of Talmudic culture at Cal Berkeley, reportedly speculates, “some Christians will find it shocking—a challenge to the uniqueness of their theology”. My guess is that some Jews may challenge the authenticity or themselves be just as shocked as some of the Christians Dr. Boyarin referenced. Some will likely ascribe the messianic prophesy as the strange beliefs of some Dead Sea cult rather than accept that Jewish tradition may indeed have actually contained prophesies of a Messiah who would do exactly what most Christians purport Christ to have done.
Mormons will likely just yawn (in a ‘nothing new here’ sort of way). Or like most readers, skip the article entirely since it mentions “Dead Sea Scroll” in the subtitle.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
My Bodyguard
Last weekend we were invited to a birthday party for my nephew, Connor. We were told to prepare for cake and ice cream and a water party. The kids played in a pool as the adults sat on the patio solving the world’s problems. At some point during the evening, Jessica flashed a green light to Connor, who doused my back with his super-soaker squirt gun. I immediately decided to spread the love, so I grabbed the nearest assault weapon—a pump action water rifle—and sprayed my 20 year-old brother (who’s going on 13). Apparently the small stream of water was more than Shane could handle. He lost his temper and jumped up to chase me.
I hadn’t planned an escape route and I needed time to re-charge the weapon. I turned and attempted to run away from my assailant, but found my pathway blocked by some plastic patio chairs—some with occupants, some without—and a large plastic car the girls had parked in an ill-fated location. My only option was to turn around and face the music. But just as I was turning around, Shane shoved me in the back. Caught off guard, I tried to keep my balance, but ended up knocking over a plastic chair. I partially re-gained my balance, but began toppling towards the plastic car. As I fell, I contorted my body in a manner that allowed me to narrowly avoid a collision with the car (OK, so that may sound a little more graceful than it actually was—but hey, it’s my blog). I ended up sprawled out, face-down on the lawn.
When a 300-plus pound man is shoved off a patio, goes flying through the air, attempts a 180 in an effort to avoid serious injury to himself and other people’s property, and lands in a belly-flop on the back lawn—nobody says a word…“Crickets”. The family—including my attacker—was in shock. It’s not something you’re lucky enough to see everyday.
My first instinct was revenge. I envisioned the sweet pleasure of jumping up and chasing him down (as in countless family-friendly battles of the past) tackling him on the lawn, and beating him senseless (well, at least his upper arm). But suddenly it dawned on me. I’m a grown up. I’m 34 years old. I have three kids—two of which are old enough to model my behaviors. So I just lay there, allowing the fumes to cool, and realizing the whole thing was probably my fault anyway since I provoked him with the water gun. (Actually, in hindsight, I’ve since reasoned that the birthday boy may be to blame since his initial actions introduced the idea of spraying Shane into my head. Or maybe the blame lies squarely on Jessica’s shoulders for sanctioning Connor’s juvenile delinquency.)
While the family sat in stunned silence, there was one small three-year-old who wasn’t going to take Shane’s actions lying down.
My little Rylee-pot-pie came to my rescue. Like a three foot pile of fury, she went after her Uncle Shane.
According to witnesses, the vengeful contortion of her face reflected a determined resolve, ‘Don’t you hurt my daddy!’
So Rylee-pot-David took on Goliath. Undaunted. Unrelenting. She gave him everything she had...
She ran up and kicked him in the shins.
Repeatedly.
Six or seven times.
She gave him everything her bare little feet could muster.
Our common enemy stood there dumbfounded.
Fortunately (and rather surprisingly) he was thoughtful enough not to shove her to the ground next to me.
Thanks Rylee. You’re my hero.
Mental Note: Always good to know who’s got your back.
As for Tayler: “Sweetheart—It’s OK to come out of your hiding place...It’s been 6 days..."
"Don’t worry, Uncle Shane won’t do that to Daddy ever again (at least Daddy won’t be dumb enough to turn his back on him again. Also... sorry you had to learn at such a young age that daddy isn’t invincible. But just remember, I can still fix anything that breaks (or at least run and buy a new one without you knowing). And I’m still the best looking and most charismatic boy you know (and better be until you turn at least 21).”
I hadn’t planned an escape route and I needed time to re-charge the weapon. I turned and attempted to run away from my assailant, but found my pathway blocked by some plastic patio chairs—some with occupants, some without—and a large plastic car the girls had parked in an ill-fated location. My only option was to turn around and face the music. But just as I was turning around, Shane shoved me in the back. Caught off guard, I tried to keep my balance, but ended up knocking over a plastic chair. I partially re-gained my balance, but began toppling towards the plastic car. As I fell, I contorted my body in a manner that allowed me to narrowly avoid a collision with the car (OK, so that may sound a little more graceful than it actually was—but hey, it’s my blog). I ended up sprawled out, face-down on the lawn.
When a 300-plus pound man is shoved off a patio, goes flying through the air, attempts a 180 in an effort to avoid serious injury to himself and other people’s property, and lands in a belly-flop on the back lawn—nobody says a word…“Crickets”. The family—including my attacker—was in shock. It’s not something you’re lucky enough to see everyday.
My first instinct was revenge. I envisioned the sweet pleasure of jumping up and chasing him down (as in countless family-friendly battles of the past) tackling him on the lawn, and beating him senseless (well, at least his upper arm). But suddenly it dawned on me. I’m a grown up. I’m 34 years old. I have three kids—two of which are old enough to model my behaviors. So I just lay there, allowing the fumes to cool, and realizing the whole thing was probably my fault anyway since I provoked him with the water gun. (Actually, in hindsight, I’ve since reasoned that the birthday boy may be to blame since his initial actions introduced the idea of spraying Shane into my head. Or maybe the blame lies squarely on Jessica’s shoulders for sanctioning Connor’s juvenile delinquency.)
While the family sat in stunned silence, there was one small three-year-old who wasn’t going to take Shane’s actions lying down.
My little Rylee-pot-pie came to my rescue. Like a three foot pile of fury, she went after her Uncle Shane.
According to witnesses, the vengeful contortion of her face reflected a determined resolve, ‘Don’t you hurt my daddy!’
So Rylee-pot-David took on Goliath. Undaunted. Unrelenting. She gave him everything she had...
She ran up and kicked him in the shins.
Repeatedly.
Six or seven times.
She gave him everything her bare little feet could muster.
Our common enemy stood there dumbfounded.
Fortunately (and rather surprisingly) he was thoughtful enough not to shove her to the ground next to me.
Thanks Rylee. You’re my hero.
Mental Note: Always good to know who’s got your back.
As for Tayler: “Sweetheart—It’s OK to come out of your hiding place...It’s been 6 days..."
"Don’t worry, Uncle Shane won’t do that to Daddy ever again (at least Daddy won’t be dumb enough to turn his back on him again. Also... sorry you had to learn at such a young age that daddy isn’t invincible. But just remember, I can still fix anything that breaks (or at least run and buy a new one without you knowing). And I’m still the best looking and most charismatic boy you know (and better be until you turn at least 21).”
"Gone in a Flash" Drive
So, my flash drive died last night.
Just stopped working.
Had a lot of files on that thing that weren't backed up.
Including my final project for my Masters degree.
Good thinking on my part not backing it up regularly.
Looks like I'm starting from scratch again--on several things.
Kind of a downer.
The "Mister Rogers" side of me says that the bright side of this mishap is that I can try to do a better job on my project this time around.
The "Mister Rogers" side of me is also betting that I'm one "neighbor" whose learned a valuable lesson about backing up portable memory.
Side note: that "Mister Rogers" side of me can be a real pain in the rear at times like this.
Just stopped working.
Had a lot of files on that thing that weren't backed up.
Including my final project for my Masters degree.
Good thinking on my part not backing it up regularly.
Looks like I'm starting from scratch again--on several things.
Kind of a downer.
The "Mister Rogers" side of me says that the bright side of this mishap is that I can try to do a better job on my project this time around.
The "Mister Rogers" side of me is also betting that I'm one "neighbor" whose learned a valuable lesson about backing up portable memory.
Side note: that "Mister Rogers" side of me can be a real pain in the rear at times like this.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Rylee's "Special" Place
Rylee has a special place she goes whenever she's in trouble or feels embarrassed. It's a simple escape. She covers both eyes with her hands. It must allow her to momentarily escape from an awkward situation. She has only been going there the past few weeks, but it's becoming a more and more frequent hiding place.
On Saturday morning I watched her poke Jayson in the eye. He started crying so she immediately put herself in "time out" on the love seat in the living room. You've got to hand it to her for being "self-disciplined". When I went into the living room to talk to her about it, she put both hands up over her eyes and didn't respond to my questions. "Um...I can still see you Rylee".
At some point during sacrament meeting, Jessica had to take Jayson out. Rylee followed thirty seconds later, but knew she shouldn't be. So she picked up one of Jayson's toys and used it to help cover both eyes. She sheepishly walked up the aisle and towards the front side door of the chapel with both hands--and Jayson's greenish, pink, noisy, floppy butterfly toy--covering her eyes. "Don't worry Rylee. None of the 300 people seated in back of you can see what you're doing".
At first I thought Rylee's special place was a strange behavior. I now choose to find it charming. I also sorta envy her. How many times in my life could I have benefited from being able to cover my eyes with my hands to remove embarrassment or accountability? I'm going to learn a lesson from Rylee. Next time one of the following uncomfortable or awkward situations presents itself, I'm going to cover my eyes, put on an innocent smile, and sit there quietly, acting like nothing is happening.
1) At work--"Sean, have you finished that project I mentioned in passing a few months ago (and haven't asked about since)? I need it right now."
2) (In front of a large group of people, with Rylee poking me in the belly) "Daddy, are you pregnant?"
3) "Dad, Jayson won't give me my Pink PollyPocket car!!!" (Jayson, please play with the dumptruck instead. Please?)
4) "Brother Dunroe, can we come by in twenty minutes to hometeach your family?" (Request made on the last day of the month)
5) "Sean. You better help your daughter." (Suggestion from a chuckling brother-in-law as Rylee has suddenly decided she needs to go to the bathroom and is slowly shuffling across the crowded waiting area of the Olive Garden with her shorts and underwear down around her ankles)
6) "Hey, look Honey! When you put this pink bow in his hair, he looks just like Tayler did as a baby."
7) "Raise your hands if you can make yourself available to help the Johnson's move. They're the family moving into the third floor apartment on 4th street."
8) "Dad, do you know who ate my cupcake I was saving on the kitchen counter?" (tears welling up in Tayler's big blue eyes)
9) "Great. Another blowout! Tayler, will you take Jayson into dad and have him change his diaper?"
10) Or three minutes later...."Daddy, why are you gagging?"
11) "Dad, Bethany's throwing up!!!" (warning provided as the neighbor girl runs towards me, across our living room carpet, hand over her mouth in a feable attempt to catch the mess, and I'm the only adult in the house)
12) "Um Dad. When mommy took Jayson out, Rylee pulled down her skirt (and underwear) during Sacrament meeting. Twice"
13) "Who tracked in the mud from the garden? ARGHHH...I just barely mopped the floor!"
14) "...Now raise your hands if you can take the 12 hour shift at the Ogden Cannery starting at 4 am on Tuesday"
15) "Do these pants make my butt look big? Seriously. Tell me the truth."
16) "Sweetheart, I cannot believe you posted that on your blog!!!"
On Saturday morning I watched her poke Jayson in the eye. He started crying so she immediately put herself in "time out" on the love seat in the living room. You've got to hand it to her for being "self-disciplined". When I went into the living room to talk to her about it, she put both hands up over her eyes and didn't respond to my questions. "Um...I can still see you Rylee".
At some point during sacrament meeting, Jessica had to take Jayson out. Rylee followed thirty seconds later, but knew she shouldn't be. So she picked up one of Jayson's toys and used it to help cover both eyes. She sheepishly walked up the aisle and towards the front side door of the chapel with both hands--and Jayson's greenish, pink, noisy, floppy butterfly toy--covering her eyes. "Don't worry Rylee. None of the 300 people seated in back of you can see what you're doing".
At first I thought Rylee's special place was a strange behavior. I now choose to find it charming. I also sorta envy her. How many times in my life could I have benefited from being able to cover my eyes with my hands to remove embarrassment or accountability? I'm going to learn a lesson from Rylee. Next time one of the following uncomfortable or awkward situations presents itself, I'm going to cover my eyes, put on an innocent smile, and sit there quietly, acting like nothing is happening.
1) At work--"Sean, have you finished that project I mentioned in passing a few months ago (and haven't asked about since)? I need it right now."
2) (In front of a large group of people, with Rylee poking me in the belly) "Daddy, are you pregnant?"
3) "Dad, Jayson won't give me my Pink PollyPocket car!!!" (Jayson, please play with the dumptruck instead. Please?)
4) "Brother Dunroe, can we come by in twenty minutes to hometeach your family?" (Request made on the last day of the month)
5) "Sean. You better help your daughter." (Suggestion from a chuckling brother-in-law as Rylee has suddenly decided she needs to go to the bathroom and is slowly shuffling across the crowded waiting area of the Olive Garden with her shorts and underwear down around her ankles)
6) "Hey, look Honey! When you put this pink bow in his hair, he looks just like Tayler did as a baby."
7) "Raise your hands if you can make yourself available to help the Johnson's move. They're the family moving into the third floor apartment on 4th street."
8) "Dad, do you know who ate my cupcake I was saving on the kitchen counter?" (tears welling up in Tayler's big blue eyes)
9) "Great. Another blowout! Tayler, will you take Jayson into dad and have him change his diaper?"
10) Or three minutes later...."Daddy, why are you gagging?"
11) "Dad, Bethany's throwing up!!!" (warning provided as the neighbor girl runs towards me, across our living room carpet, hand over her mouth in a feable attempt to catch the mess, and I'm the only adult in the house)
12) "Um Dad. When mommy took Jayson out, Rylee pulled down her skirt (and underwear) during Sacrament meeting. Twice"
13) "Who tracked in the mud from the garden? ARGHHH...I just barely mopped the floor!"
14) "...Now raise your hands if you can take the 12 hour shift at the Ogden Cannery starting at 4 am on Tuesday"
15) "Do these pants make my butt look big? Seriously. Tell me the truth."
16) "Sweetheart, I cannot believe you posted that on your blog!!!"
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