Good Weekends Rule

So yesterday was a great day. I finally got to mow the front yard and edge the driveway, sidewalk edges, and the curb. It took about 3.5 hours, most of which was spent bending over and edging or shop-vacuuming up the dirt. It looks better than it did, but it's not the best edger. I'll take it though.

So the yard looks better. Now I just need to throw down some grass seed to fill in the bare spots.

Later, we had some friends over for pizza and games. Their girls and ours stayed downstairs and destroyed pretty much everything (actually, I'm pretty sure that was just our girls; theirs are older and not so destructive, and they pick up after themselves). I don't know how popcorn can get inside an entertainment center without opening the cabinet doors (short of teleporting, but . . . ), but it did. Under, in, on, above, mixed in with, ground into, and any other prepositional phrases that might be appropriate. Carpet, couches, coffee table, blankets, stuffed animals, flowers . . . yah. Everywhere. Hoover to the rescue! :) We cleaned it up in a matter of minutes, so it was more comical than anything . . . after the fact.

Anyway, the adults stayed upstairs for chatting and games. We played this card game called "Arne". It was pretty sweet. It's sort of like Uno, except the point is to collect cards/points. We sat around and talked about foster care, adoption, family life, work life . . . it was nice to sit around and talk.

Then there's today. We were planning on having chicken thighs in the crockpot, but then weef's sister called and invited us over to their place for dinner. We had this incredible roast with potatoes, corn, and brownies for dessert. My brother in law is a chef. That should pretty much sum up the meal. :)

Good times. Weef and I drove around this evening looking at houses for sale. We found a pretty nice one, but it only has 3 bedrooms. How do you only have 3 bedrooms in a house that's over 3300 square feet? Our house now is 2200, and we have 4, with the potential for 6. not the biggest rooms, mind you, but still--nice rooms.

What is around the corner? It's always such a mystery. We could move to Salt Lake, or we could stay put. I might get another job, or I might keep my job here. Weef might work next year, she might not. Who knows where we'll be or what we'll be doing in a month, 6 months, a week . . . a year . . . we just don't know.

And, really . . . it doesn't matter. Right now, I'm happy with the way things are as whole. There are things that I wish were different, but those things are out of my control. There are things in my control that I *can* change--things about me. And yah--there are definitely things I'd like to change about myself . . . but who doesn't have a laundry list like that? :)

Good weekend, though. Really good.

For the Record

Bran Buds do not add to the yogurt-eating experience. Actually, they detract heavily.

That is all.

The Beauty of Babies

So, I went to some friends' house after work. They're also doing foster care, but they have a crazy house: 2 babys under 9 months, a 5 year old, and a 7 year old. I don't envy them.

Anyway, like I said, 2 babies. I held the 9-month old for a good 10 minutes. There's something so perfect and pure about babies. They don't know how to hate; they love unconditionally (or whoever has their bottle). They're very good at letting you know when something's wrong, but they're also really good at letting you know when they're content.

This little butter ball sat on my lap and just bounced away on my knee for a while, then he started getting jealous of the 4 month old who was being fed. He started crying for a bottle, so I rocked him back and forth for a bit until he calmed down. I let him suck on my fingers (probably not the smartest way to go; he looked like he was battling a pretty bad bacterial sickness, based on the color of the snot that kept dripping out of his little, red nose), and he seemed to be okay with that.

Of course, as soon as the bottle was ready, I had to go. But it was a nice break from the last several days.

I've always appreciated my wife for the unconditional love she constantly heaps upon me. I'm not sure I've ever gone through a more difficult time when I've needed their support more than I have the last week.

Thanksgiving in April

So, depending on your point of view, I'm either 4+ months late or 7+ months early. I'd like to think that I'm just that much ahead of the curve, but I know myself. :) For the sake of argument, though, I'm going to say that I'm well ahead of schedule.

Now to my point: I've been too pessimistic lately. Here, for your reading enjoyment, I will provide a list of things for which I'm grateful. Some will be very serious, some will be very silly. You can decided which are which.

And away we go!

- Weef
- Girls 1 and 2
- Family
- Friends
- Gamecube
- Intelligence (and please . . . no "short bus" jokes)
- wireless devices: keyboards, mice, pdas, etc
- Music (way too many bands to name individually)
- Our truck. I don't know why . . . I really like driving it.
- Gum
- Good co-workers
- Movies
- Our keyboard at home. "Electric piano" is more accurate, but it has so many sounds that it's incredible.
- Cell phones
- GPS
- Geocaching (and the fact that girls 1 and 2 *love* "treasure hunting")
- The atonement
- Understanding of who I really am and what my real potential is--not just here, but forever
- Cheese . . . gjetost cheese, specifically.
- Rain
- 4GB USB Drives
- Macaroni and cheese
- Pasta in general

Well, that's it for right now. More later.

Irony

I have a new definition of irony--one that I never thought I would encounter, yet find myself smack in the thick of the most ridiculous and bitter battle.

So, irony: discovering that a supposed best friend thinks that you need anger management. This discovery is happened upon by the fact that this person is screaming at you in your office, and then in front of the entire office. When you call a couple of days later to discuss the issue, this friend continues yelling at you, then procedes to hang up on you. THEN as you call back later and ask your friend not to hang up on you, this person then tells you, "dude . . . LET IT GO." Because, you know . . . I'm the one clinging to the anger and rage.

Irony. Gotta love it.

I'm reminded of the once-bitter Tool, who, on their second-to-latest release, produced the following gem:


Saturn comes back around to show you everything
Let's you choose what you will not see and then
Drags you down like a stone or lifts you up again
Spits you out like a child, light and innocent.

Saturn comes back around. Lifts you up like a child or
Drags you down like a stone
To consume you till you choose to let this go.

Give away the stone.
Let the oceans take and transmutate this cold and fated anchor.
Give away the stone.
Let the waters kiss and transmutate these leaden grudges into gold.
Let go.

Yah. That song takes on a whole new meaning for me this weekend. For your blogging pleasure, it will now reside as the #1 track on here until further notice.

Music for the Masses

I've posted a few of my favorite songs--some old-school stuff with a bit of neo-faves.

The first track--Hysteria by Muse--is what girl 1 calls "I Want It Now". Refer to previous post for related details. :) This song is a blast to drive to. No road trip is complete without it.

Tom Sawyer. If you don't know at least who Rush is, then . . . wow. This is one of the all-time classic "air drumming on steering wheel" songs.

Hooverphonic is a recent acquisition. For me, anyway. Geike Arneart's voice is as pure as it gets.

Tool. Need I say more?

This is one of the quirkiest songs BNL have ever done. I love it.

I'll add more later. Maybe.

no joy in the land of agony and sorrow

Wow. That actually looks like a gothic song title.

Sore throat. Can't talk. I'm pretty sure my office mates are going to love that . . . one in particular. Lucky little poops.

It's like I've reverted back to the good old pre-pubescent years. My favorite time of life.

The thing that really sucks about it is that I can't sing along in the truck as I'm going to work. Granted it's a 1.1 mile drive, so there's not a lot of singing going on anyway, but it's still always fun. And no one can criticize how crappy I sound. Oh well. Next week, I guess.

I should have seen this coming. Yesterday, while I was taking a shower, I tried singing a song that was in my head. It was difficult staying on key, my voice kept cracking, yet I had to try to force it. That should have been a tell-tale sign right there, yet it went unheeded.

You have to understand . . . when I'm "singing along" to something, it's not just singing along: I *am* Matt Bellamy, or Geoff Tate, or James Labrie, or Layne Staley (RIP) . . . I totally get into it. Ask any of the people who have seen me in traffic. I've sung to complete strangers sitting next to me at a red light. Put on a whole show for them. One couple even applauded (though I think that was because the light turned green and they were finally able to drive off).

So yah. Sore throat. "And there was much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth."

Doesn't mean I can't air drum the crap out of my steering wheel though. :)