HOME-SCHOOLED NERD

For Jim

2008-02-06T22:00:00.000-08:00

In Memory of Jim Sandelius
May, 1955 - January, 2008
Professor, Writer, Musician, Producer, Loving Friend

You walked in an old world of fresh glory
The yellowed verse and bright damp paint you knew
The song was yours and the ancient story,
The pen, the brush, the thought belonged to you.

All faces that you met, you met with truth
With laughter, without mask, your gentle force
Had soon unveiled the breathless dreams of youth.
We could not hide them, for our joy was yours.

The curse that stole your strength touched not your soul,
For in the undue winter of your days
Was but the sweetest friendship of the whole.
To those who sought to give to you, you gave.

Though now you’ve gone, I won’t release this gift:
I linger in the love and hope you lived.

The GRINDSTONE

2008-01-22T19:52:00.000-08:00

If I can't be sure of getting an edumacation this semester, I can at least be certain of a dislocated shoulder.

But if I ever complain about this batch of classes, please give me a roundhouse kick to the head: these books look flippin' AWESOME.

O Garbage Thief, My Garbage Thief

2007-12-13T23:31:00.000-08:00

I first caught him making his rounds on a clear morning this November. The sky was blue and the leaves were red and I was staring out of the front window. And it was all his fault that my view was ruined, his frenzied pawing through the helpless trash cans just across the way shattering the stillness of the road. His head down, he was immersed in the contents of the can, emerging only to stuff newfound treasures into a large black bag. And suddenly, he was finished - shoving the lid back on the can and frantically shuffling down the road. I was transfixed. Yes, he was stopping at the next house! Off went the top of the can: in went his greedy fists. I made a quick survey of the road. So many defenseless cans were dotting the scene of the crime, and all with a Garbage Thief on the loose!

I'd seen Garbage Thieves before, but this smallish elderly fellow in his blue sweater and neatly trimmed white hair didn't fit the thief bill - other than his ability to make insanely good time down the road from can to can.

I didn't know what to do. Cars moved up and down the street, and so did the old man, his black bag bulging with loot. I felt that somehow something should be done, so I sent Daniel outside, who proceeded to shuffle about conspicuously in the driveway. The Garbage Thief proceeded with his work. Daniel came inside.

The small sweatered man soon past from sight and memory, until this morning.

It was 8 am and the house was freezing and so was I. I went out on the front porch on my way to grab something from my car. The streets were dotted again with cans...and...down the road...an indistinct small person was examining the contents of a neighbor's trash! AHA! I thought to myself. Here was my chance for an altercation with The Garbage Thief! I ran back inside so I could time the moment properly. Soon he was approaching my house. He was at our can. His hands went inside. I bolted around the front door toward my car,which sat just feet from the can. He continued stuffing items into his bag. I got what I needed from my car. He kept pawing away. I didn't even try to make eye contact. I slunk back inside. The Garbage Thief went on his way.

I'd like to meet this fellow. I'd like to interview The Garbage Thief.

Merry Christmas from Emma and Tim!!!

2007-12-02T22:37:00.000-08:00

And the Winner Is...

2007-11-17T11:24:00.001-08:00

The votes have been tallied! The results are in! The GREAT PUMPKIN CHAMPION has been determined!

You voted, America, and you chose as your third place winner, coming in with four votes...

BOO! Carved by our very own Stella S.!

And, coming in second place, with a whopping five votes, the intricate and amazing...

Spongebob! Carved by Eric S.!

Finally, the winner! Barely skating into first place with six votes....

El Guapo!!! Carved by yours truly!!

Thank you to all our fine competitors, and congratulations to the noble champions! The winners of the Creativity and Design categories will be announced tonight!

The Great Pumpkin Carve-Off

2007-10-31T17:43:00.001-07:00

On Sunday evening, a fearsome crowd composed of a whole passel o' Nevins, Eric and Stella S., Corey S., Ken M., Melanie H., and Hannah S. faced off in the battleground of our backyard for The Great Pumpkin Carve-Off. Many came to the battle armed with a variety of intricate and deadly weapons (and some with previously procured Internet designs). The competition was fierce. The artistry and dedication were unsurpassed.

The result: the spectacular jack-o-lanterns you see displayed below:

Yes, it was a wonderful night. But one thing was lacking at the competition: an unbiased selection of THE WINNING PUMPKIN. And so: we plead now for your help. We'd love your careful vote on what you think is the superior carving. Below are all the selections, with their names, but until the votes are tallied the carvers shall remain anonymous.

And the entries are:

1. Picasso

2. Fang

3. Mini Me

4. Muy Loco

5. Jack

6. Self Portrait

7. Deadlius Maximus

8. Cyclops

9. The Sting

10. Le Classic

11. K9

12. El Guapo

13. Spongebob

14. Mike Wazosky

15. BOO!

16. The Crybaby

Please pick your favorite pumpkin. Vote HERE!

That Good Ol' Homeskooler Edumacation

2007-10-15T17:57:00.000-07:00

Emma made this awesome sign for our bedroom door. Grand prize of a swell high-five to anyone who can figure out what it says!!!!

HOW MUCH????

2007-09-26T23:04:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: the following "poem" was composed minutes ago in the climax of a bloody, 3-hour battle with a rotten essay assignment which is not yet completed, but as of yet has produced nothing but horrid, paltry summarization.

This poem is not directed at a person. It is not directed at a class or institution. It is directed at the awful plethora of dreadful assignments hurled at the average college student. And finally, it is dedicated to Mel H., who, I am certain, is going through exactly what I am.
........................................................................................................................................

How Much?

How much do I hate writing this essay?

I hate it as heavily as donuts

And I hate it as darkly as chocolate.

How much do I loathe this paper?

I loathe it as deeply as the dirt under your nails

And as thickly as the folds round your waist.

How much do I detest this assignment?

I detest it more than green caterpillars,

I rue it like I rue sunshine in rain.

You have asked me to write on “2 + 2 = 4.”

You have required two pages on nothing.

You do not trust the disgusted atoms of my brain

For anything fresh, so you make me clean out the disposal,

Redress the lettuce shreds, and present them to you on a platter.

How much do I disregard this paper?

I disregard it as the trash engulfing my mailbox

I reject it as the advances of Horatio Schneebly.

Now. Have you any more questions?

I thought not.

Of God's Creatures, Great and Small

2007-08-23T22:54:00.001-07:00

My family has now returned from our annual trip to Snowflower Preserve in the Sierras. Each year, we spend an extended summer trek at the Preserve "camping" [does it still count if there are showers and a lodge - complete with karaoke and ice cream socials on the weekends?].

It's our favorite place in the world, abundant in baby blue skies, massive pines, and the purest air this side of the Mississippi. And also, as we were reminded this year, wild things.

It all began with the frog stalking. Two days in a row I had a mysterious encounter with the same creepy green specimen. I don't know what this guy intended by deliberately, covertly stationing himself so that when I innocently reached out to grab something, my hand made abrupt contact with his small, mushy body. And I certainly did not appreciate, the next day, discovering the same nervy dude sneakily scaling the shower curtain in the ladies' restroom, obviously plotting to whip out some Bond-esque moves. Some weirdo, huh?

On a much larger scale, the whole trip was peppered with talk of bears - bears ransacking camp sites, even trailers; bear spottings in the campground nearly daily. Apparently a nearby fire had driven out wild things from the neighboring forests into our small mountain. We were all on the alert.

However, last Saturday night I thoughtlessly abandoned all reason and safety precautions and, in a very rash decision, decided to take a hike by myself down the mountain.

My family's favorite campsite is at the near top of the mountain, where, the hill open and exposed under the heavens, the infinite shaggy peaks of the Sierras border a painfully blue sky. The main camp areas, as well as the park Lodge and recreation amenities, are located at a twisting, 2-mile walk down the mountain, near a steep slope used for sledding in the snow season. The path from our site to the Lodge varies from gravel to asphalt to rocky dirt roads, and, though passing through a few campsite areas, is largely solitary - heavily wooded wilderness filling the slope on one side and the incline on the other. And each year, one of my favorite activities is to make this trek down the mountain in the evenings as the sun is setting.

But, on this fateful night, I was delayed getting started and the sun had just sunk behind the hills when I finally headed out. I was alone, and I hadn't thought to bring a walking stick or flashlight. I'd made the walk countless times and I loved it, and even in the darkness I'd have no trouble finding my way.

And so it was that, happily and carelessly, I set out into the dusk. Already as I walked, in the description of Oscar Wilde, "the colors faded wearily out of things." I picked up my pace, trying to beat the darkness to my destination, but I was quickly losing the battle. Thus, when I rounded that lonely bend on the long, empty stretch of dirt road, a deepening gray pallor had swept the path ahead, and, in the heavy woods surrounding it, the ragged outlines of trees blended into black.

Jauntily stepping along, perhaps a mile from my destination, I rounded the corner. I casually scanned the darkened road ahead. And there, just 10 yards away at the edge of the path, the large, tawny back end of a mountain lion was slinking out of sight behind a tree.

I froze midstride. The fear took a second to catch up with me, as I realized that this was real, as I heard the heavy snapping and crackling of the lion's body leaping up higher in the brush, and as I knew as I'd never known before that I was utterly and completely alone.

Immediately two things came to mind: the command DON'T RUN and a vivid recollection of a ruthless mountain lion attack several years ago on two hikers - one of whom basically had her face torn off by the cougar - I couldn't remember if any survived.

So, awash in a terror like nothing I'd ever experienced, I stood unmoving in the road. I thought (ridiculously) of hiding behind a tree, of trying to walk away (but it would be impossible not to run), and I thought my end had come. I knew nothing of mountain lions but their speed and strength, and the violent attacks I'd heard of.

And now, though sheer terror prevented me from looking up into the trees to try to see the position of the cougar, I knew by heavy movement in the underbrush that it was still there, lingering, just above me on the slope.

I could think of nothing to do but try to appear as neutral as possible. And to pray. I prayed what I expected were my last prayers on this earth. I stared fiercely down at the darkened road, waiting to hear the lion leaping down toward me, and prayed.

Minutes passed and I stood motionless in the road, still with the sporadic, yet ever present movement of the lion. Small things moved and snapped twigs and ruffled leaves in the darkness, but this was an entirely different type of movement: heavy, disruptive, back and forth above me.

Finally, surprised to still be standing (and living), I prayed for help. My hope pinned on the passage of a car down the mountain. Usually when I made the walk, two or three vehicles would chug past me on the road, heading down to festivities at the Lodge. On this evening, my Mom was still up at our campsite and had said she might be driving down. Oh Lord, I prayed, please help her come. Please send someone, please send someone.

I don't know how long I stood there in the darkness. By the grace of God, I remained uncharacteristically calm, even resigned. But when at last I heard the faint hum of a motor in the distance, the heavens and the earth came tumbling down and I lost it. That sound, to me, represented life.

After an eternity, the headlights rounded the bend and pierced through the darkness. The movement in the forest above me had stopped. I recognized my family's van, and when she pulled up alongside, I saw my mom. It was over.

And gee whiz am I glad it was family that pulled alongside me in that road, because I'd hate for anyone else to be exposed to the blubbering mess who scrambled frantically into that van and collapsed into a pathetic, shaking heap inside. At this point I shall discreetly abandon the narrative and pick it up later on when I had regained some small pretense of dignity. In the meantime, a few pictures of mountain lions for your viewing pleasure:

Okay, so I never really saw anything like these pictures. What I saw looked much more like this....

...but I thought some visual aids might help the story along. Anyway, my rendezvous with the cougar was not yet over.

The rest of the family was down at the lodge enjoying the strange musical attempts of a small band when we arrived. In a few minutes we all left to head back up the mountain for the night. My car had been parked by the lodge, so Lila, Amy and Emma joined me as I started the drive up the hill. As we trekked along I began telling them what had happened (losing all dignity yet again). As we rounded a corner about a half-mile along the way, my headlights caught a leaping form just off the road, bounding up the mountainside. It was the lion, its extended, long body glowing nearly white in the light. Only Lila and I saw it, but our reaction was enough to ensure complete pandemonium.

And this is where the narrative ends. The tale soon became a joke, especially to brothers who found it great fodder for stories about me having really only seen a kitten in the bushes, and having responding with great shriekings and nervous breakdowns. Har har har.

I learned after the fact that I was not in nearly the danger I assumed. Would have been helpful to know this beforehand, but so it goes. At any rate, just minutes after I thought I'd been given a new lease on life, the thought popped up, "Gee, this would make a good blog story." Nice.

All in all, I'm thankful. I'm thankful for the patience of my family, which has endured countless exhausting renditions of the tale. And I'm thankful most of all for the protection and faithfulness of God, who left me completely assured in those long minutes that He was there and knew exactly what was going on.

A few days later I was reading in Isaiah, and boy howdy did the following verse ring true [44:8]:

"Do not tremble and do not be afraid;

Have I not long since announced it to you and declared it?

And you are My witnesses.

Is there any God besides Me,

Or is there any other Rock?

I know of none."

**All photos from Flickr.com

Stand Proud

2007-07-05T23:19:00.000-07:00

When Andy Says Goodbye

2007-06-19T15:00:00.001-07:00

How shall I begin? How shall I describe last night's strange tale, which has at last propelled me back into the bloggosphere?

Let me see....

Okay, here we go.

It was a dark and stormy night, and I alone remained awake as the grandfather clock downstairs tolled midnight. Its lonely peals echoed faintly through the halls and made their way up to my cold bed in the attic, where a single candle flame illuminated the book in my hands. Stories of goblins and ghosts and ghouls crept and clawed their way across its withered pages.

The wind and sleet lashed the naked windows. Thunder pealed, my bed shook -

Okay, that's not really how it happened. The truth of the matter is that last night, at approximately 11:40 pm on a balmy summer night, I sat having just begun digging into a biography of Harry Truman by the amazing David McCullough (thank you, D.W.). "These were the years of the great Missouri River paintings by George Caleb Bingham," I read.

And then through the open windows the sound came to me: the hum of a motor roaring past the window, squealing tires skidding across asphalt, and a jarring, resounding crunch.

Screaming tires once again bit into the pavement, appearing to fade away in the distance.

My sisters sat up, staring, mouths open. "What was that?" they asked. And then it was that I committed a grave sin.

The sound of idiots roaring down the street at night is nothing new to my neighbors and I. Nor is the steady throb of helicopters combing the sky. And neither is the frantic squeal of tires at a nearby street, indicating a near collision or worse.

Thus (though it is no excuse), I told my sisters to settle down - it was probably just something small that happened on one of the busy streets bordering our enclave. And I got back to my book.

"Old journals speak, too, of uninformed soldiers on their way to Fort Leaventworth," I was reading, when Lila, who had run from the room at the sound of the crunch, came barging back through the doors.

"I can't believe it," she panted, cheeks crimson, eyes snapping. "They smashed Andy's car."

Book forgotten, I leaped up. The front door was open. I could see a small group of people clustered out in the dark street, and splintered plastic strewn across the pavement. But where was Andy's car?

I ran across the grass and out into the road to where the group stood. And then I saw it.

Andy's small white car had been parked in the gutter next to our front yard. Tonight, the driver tearing down our street had smashed into his car, sending it flying over 15 feet from where it was parked up onto our neighbor's lawn. The driver's car itself sat a couple feet behind in the road, front end smashed, door open, lights on. No one was inside.

This is what we saw:

Andy had made it outside by now, as well as most of my family and two neighbors. "Where did she go?" an older neighbor, a lovely man who helps a steady finger on the pulse of the neighborhood, was asking. He'd heard the crash and rushed outside to see a woman running down the street. She didn't respond when he yelled after her. And then suddenly, he told us, he'd heard a voice in the street behind him. "Is that the driver?" the voice asked. "I think so," our friend replied. Before he could say anything else, the faceless figure was dashing down the street after the woman and had disappeared into the night.

"I have no idea who the man was," our friend said. And no one had seen the woman since.

We stood about talking and speculating, waiting for the police to arrive. Andy was calm, cool and collected. And suddenly, to our unbelief, we saw two figures appearing through the darkness, slowly making their way toward us from down the road.

The short figure of a woman uncertainly advanced along the pavement, with a tall man walking closely by her side, watching. "That's her," our neighbor said.

She slumped down in the gutter a few houses away. The man stood silently by.

What happened? We wondered. Was she hurt? Who could it be?

I am always thankful for our law enforcement officers, and I must say that last night was an excellent testimony to how much we are blessed by their service. Within minutes after the crash, a helicopter's long beam illuminated the roads around us, and a fire truck, two cop cars and an ambulance crowded the street.

The woman was soon in the hands of the cops. And a new figure appeared in our midst - the young man who'd escorted her back to the scene. We shortly discovered that he was the brother of a neighbor close by, and just so happened to be a US Army veteran who had recently finished a tour in Iraq.

He'd heard the crash and spotted a person running from the vehicle. Not knowing whether this person might be armed or dangerous, this brave man nonetheless took off down the street in hot pursuit. When he caught up with her, he said, she was losing speed and stumbling about. She tried to convince him she had nothing to do with the accident - she just happened to be the only drunk, shoeless woman running down the street at the moment. He wasn't buying it, and he brought her back.

And so, my friends, this saga concludes. Andy answered the appropriate questions, the woman was soon taken away in the back of a cop car, her vehicle towed, the streets empty of all but shards of plastic and metal, and the front end of my brother's crunched car. We said goodnight to our neighbors, bidding them farewell, as one concluded, "until more police activity brings us together again."

THE END

EPILOGUE

By the way, a reporter from Channel 13 just so happened to arrive with the cops last night, and, pointing a massive strobe light into our poor neighbor's face, he interviewed the brave man who had undertaken the chase. And this morning, Andy's story, and our neighbor's tale, were featured on the 5:00 news for approximately 11.79 seconds (perhaps a bit longer). So, if you'd like to see more, we just so happen to have it on TiVo. Really! Just swing on by.

And how, you might ask, is Andy doing? He's handling it just fine. His one concern: "Gee, I hope my CDs aren't broken." Thankfully, he didn't have much invested in the vehicle, but we want to make sure he is soon hooked up with a new ride.

Ken thought we should raise funds for Andy's new wheels by selling T-shirts for a profit. I think he was bit by a moment of pure genius. Thus, I designed a T-shirt for the Crunched Car Foundation which will soon be accessible to you for your purchasing pleasure. For a sneak preview, see below:

JUST KIDDING!!!!!!!!!

[Yes, that IS Andy's car on the T-shirt. And yes, it is crying.]

FINALS.

2007-05-17T14:04:00.000-07:00

MIRACLE

2007-02-27T22:23:00.000-08:00

You'll never believe it.

Tonight and tomorrow, the forecast for dull, sunny Sacramento--where we can barely scrape up a few rains every pseudo winter--is:

SNOW.

(And some lovely rain too.)

I know, I know--it's a long shot (though we were briefly powdered with the white goodness years ago). But one can always hope.

Tonight, in Sacramento, we just might make history.

Sand and Surf

2007-01-14T18:11:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, as you may already know, my family hit the highway and trekked out to a surprise destination for a late Christmas vacation. There was a rather hairy moment along the way where we thought we were landing in Gilroy, but thankfully we were wrong. (If you're not familiar with Gilroy [though I am sure it has many merits], suffice it to say that it is known as the "Garlic Capitol of the World". 'Nuff said.) At any rate, our final destination was so marvelous I'm at a loss as to how to describe it. So I'll just pretend my little brotha Tim is your tour guide and let him show you around. I leave you in very capable (though tiny and rather pudgy) hands.

Chances are if you were strolling through sand and surf in one of Monterey Bay's private beaches not so very long ago, you may have spotted this small gnome perched atop a wind-brushed hill. He'd be quite eager to collect seashells with you, or to show you around a beach house filled with California sunshine and the faint pulse of waves splintering on rocks below.

Come along! Tim knows the best things to do and the best places to go.

Perhaps you could catch the sunset together, and stand silent and still as sea meets sky in a crimson flame.

Or...if you're craving a little more excitement, I guarantee (and Tim will concur) that nothing is more thrilling than sliding down stairs in a three-story house or playing hide-and-seek with all the lights out, straining to see whose footsteps are sliding down the hall to the bottom-floor corner where you crouch in heavy darkness, trying to silence the wild crashing of your heart.

But when the sun comes up, it's time to head back outside. Tim will fearlessly lead you into the frigid waters.

You could toss around a football...

...take on the waves...

...or pay tribute to the Beatles with your brothers and sisters.

Perhaps this dude could teach you and Tim how to fish. Heck, I've never wanted to fish before, but after seeing how perfectly at peace this gentleman seemed at his watery post, I just might join you.

Go ahead! Test the waters! They're great!

The most important thing is to treasure each moment spent with family and friends.

And then, when you must face the long ride home at the end of an unforgettable weekend, don some stunner shades as you prepare to face the world again.

Thanks for taking Tim's Tour! Hopefully you'll be joining us again next year when we head back to the salt and spray, sand and surf.

**The best of these photos were taken by The Great M&M Wolf.

SURPRISE

2007-01-05T10:50:00.000-08:00

I must ask your forgiveness, because once again I am not posting something I promised. I planned to make the trek to Peet's and Starbucks yesterday so that I could prepare the overdue coffee analysis, but there was no chance for it.

And today I cannot, because today something quite special is happening. My whole family is leaving on a short vacation to a surprise destination only my parents know about. We'll be gone through Monday, and are pretty flippin' excited. So, I must postpone the coffee post for hopefully the last time.

You'll rarely (if ever) hear Sacramento listed amongst California's hotspots (despite the fact that it is the State Capitol). I happen to love Sacramento, and believe it has many of its own merits, but I must say that one of the best things about Sac is where you can get from here. Today, for example, our destination could be one of many fantastic locations. Reno, Lake Tahoe, San Francisco, the Pacific? Just a couple hours away. Tag an afternoon's drive on the end, and you could find yourself in Hollywood, Disneyland, snow-capped peaks, Los Angeles. The road is open and the possibilities are endless.

And off we go.

Happy Friday, amigos, and I will see you on the other side.

The LOSER

2006-12-30T23:06:00.000-08:00

I, my friends, have been betrayed. Stabbed in the back. Shot down in cold blood. Handed the poisoned apple, etc., etc., etc.

Let me explain.

This evening most of my siblings and I planned to go to our friends' house to watch a movie. Whereupon the debate arose as to who should drive everyone in the big ol' van (I have 8 siblings and all but one were going, so we had to take the super-sized ride)--either my brother Andy or myself.

The two of us began arguing as to who was the better driver. No conclusion was in sight.

Thus was born The Competition.

I don't remember who thought of this, but someone finally suggested Andy should drive one way and I the other, after which the other siblings would determine the superior driver.

They would do a paper vote after we returned home, a non-biased vote based on skills, not personal preference. No one could try to influence another's vote, no smack-talking was allowed by competitors or judged. Or so they said. HA.

I'm not known for good driving skills, but I hoped for victory. I nursed those pedals and stroked that wobbly wheel all the way to our destination. However, I had a sneaking suspicion something was up when I heard covert mutterings in the back seat and stifled gasps as I was driving.

When my brother took the wheel on the way back (he too is not known for bueno skills with the ride) it was all I could do not to try to shift public opinion against him. And to my surprise and consternation, I heard nothing from the back seat. No gasps, no peanut gallery.

Hmmm.

And then we got home. The small ones ran for paper and pens, with the three littlest dictating their ballots to the older. I tried not to spy. My heart pounded with hope.

And then...they called us together for the reading of the ballots by my mom. I quickly noticed strangely stiff smiles on the faces of my siblings as they met my wary gaze. They were struggling to maintain eye contact. Their faces twisted nervously. I pointed this out, and immediately everyone's eyes were level with mine, wide and unblinking.

I knew my doom was set.

"You've all betrayed me!" I cried. They erupted into giggles. I tried to resign myself to my fate.

And then...my mom grabbed the ballot hat and pulled out the crumpled scraps of paper. And slowly she read them one by one, like the dark, anguished toll of a bell marking the commencement of an execution. The first vote, however, gave me hope:

"I pick LUCY because she drives very softly."

But from then on, it was just the twisting of the knife. These are all verbatim--and unabriged.

"ANDY. Andy did a nice U-Turn. Lucy was rough with the breaks."

"ANDY. Andy stayed in the middle of the lane but Lucy hit those little bumps too much."

"I pick ANDY because he drove fast."

"I pick ANDY because he didn't veer to the right!!! (All the time)"

"Andy's driving was a lot smoother and he came to stops slow. Lucy's driving was up and down. She would speed up then slow down really quick and came to stops fast so I pick...ANDY."

My ever-loyal little sister Emma (age 6 and the best friend a person could have) wailed tearfully after the votes were read, "I voted for you, Lucy! I voted for you!"

And the rest of them laughed hysterically.

I. WAS. BETRAYED.

My sister Lila snapped this photo after I fled to the backyard sobbing. Actually, I thought the whole thing was hilarious, of course, but it was a good opportunity to ham it up. So, they chased me around the backyard as I wept, mobbed me in the house after ran for the back door and continued to berate my driving. The torment is likely to continue for some time.

However, it must be noted that Tim (age 4) wisely remembered who had taken him to the park and McDonald's earlier that afternoon and switched his vote at the last. It didn't count, but I appreciated the gesture.

Anyway, the question now remains: was the vote bought (unlikely) or were the accusations true?

Because if that's really how I drive....

Wow.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

**Check back next week for "Starbucks vs. Peets vs. Tim Hortons."

A Christmas Hero

2006-12-26T21:54:00.000-08:00

It is great to be back!
I hope you had a fantastic Christmas...of course we did not have a white Christmas here in Sac but this is nothing new. If it's at least rainy or cloudy, we feel blessed. For some reason, a sunny Christmas is quite depressing. But so it goes.

At any rate, I know I have several updates in the wings (such as the latest Mullet Chronicles) but because of time constraints I will postpone them for a couple more days. And, there is someone who I'd like to draw your attention to this holiday season...he's my Christmas Hero.

Have you ever heard of Jeff Garcia? Probably not, unless you're a 49ers fan, as he's one of the most unattended and underappreciated quarterbacks in the NFL. Though Jeff went to three Pro Bowls when he played for SF a few years ago, his slim frame, wobbly spirals and unorthodox passing style have granted him a bench seat in media attention throughout most of his NFL career. His forgotten-man status only intensified after mediocre stints in Detroit and Cleveland following the SF days, and he finally took a back-seat position behind Donovan McNabb in Philadelphia. I thought we'd never hear of Garcia again.

Now, why am I boring you with all this? Because I love Jeff Garcia and he's made quite the noteworthy turnaround over the past few weeks--he's my Christmas hero.

Jeff Garcia is a huge part of the reason why I am an NFL fan. My family tuned in to the 49ers after a loooooong hiatus just after Jeff had taken over for the injured Steve Young. And then it was that I fell in love.

People make fun of Jeff--sports commentators, columnists, fans; ridiculing his looks, his game, his size. My grandpa scorned his "weak" arm and looked ruefully back to the Montana/Young days when Jeff was our QB. Garcia is no Montana, and definitely no Young. He would never claim to be. But it was his fighter spirit that caught my attention, and his personal kindness that sealed my love.

I will never forget Garcia's years with San Francisco. His continual push, push, push for the victory, the contagious surge of energy that erupted in clenched fists after every good play, and the fire in his eyes when he stepped onto the field were gripping. He'd often run like a wild man to snag the first down--not sliding easily to safety at the sign of a defender like one of the soft Mannings, but pushing for the very last yard--smacked roughly to the ground (eliciting shrieks of fear from female fans), but always jumping back up again, fists pumping, eyes snapping. Jeff played through pain, through the derisive snorts of fans and players (read Terrell Owens) who were used to the deep pass, through the disrespect of commentators who continually harped on the unlikelihood of his success. He took us to the playoffs and he brought back a taste of the old 49ers glory and he pushed on. Fight, fight, fight. Watching him play made me want to take kickboxing or run a marathon. Tackle a challenge (no pun intended) and push away the fear.

Sure, we didn't see too many long passes in those days, but we won games. And Jeff was a leader, the kind of player who relishes every moment on the field.

All of this was enough to hook me in to the NFL, but I was not yet in love. That would come on a boiling summer day years ago when my family traveled down to our first 49ers training camp. It was a monumental day for us all. We hugged the fence and cheered through practices and displayed our hats and our jerseys, and squinted through sun and sweat down the field at the larger-than-life figures of men and heroes moving gracefully through plays.

And then practice ended. We waited breathlessly as most players sauntered away out of vision and into the unknown, forbidden land. But a few stayed--and came to sign autographs at the fence. The Great Jeffrey was one such man.

However, what set him apart from the rest of the kind souls was that he lingered, braving the clutching hands of those decked out in tellingly oversized jerseys and the endless squeals of "My brother's sister's aunt's cousin's best friend's nephew played with you in college--you remember good ol' Tony McCowpie, right?" And at the last, against all odds, he reached across the chainlink fence that separated fan from fame, and took a picture with a scrawny kid waiting breathless at the side, just skin and bones and pounding heart.

It was a moment I will never forget.

And so it was that I fell in love. "What's the big dealio?" you ask. "Players take pictures with fans all the time--or at least they should."

But not every player is the great Jeff Garcia, my friend. And not every player extends kindness without condescension, especially to a young girl to whom anything is everything, the small things magnified and glorious, and heroes still strong and untainted.

He had unknowingly secured my undying love, and so it was that he became my Christmas hero when I learnt of his recent success in Philadelphia.

You may not know that since the great Donovan McNabb was injured late this November and Garcia stepped up to take his place, Philly's mediocre season has been turned around with a subsequent 4-1 record. And Jeff has been at the helm of it all--an improbable leader taking charge in a city of notoriously ferocious fans. What capped off the resurgence was a fantastic Christmas day game in which Philly soundly thrashed Dallas and cinched a playoff berth. It would take a lot to get me to root for the Eagles, but Jeff is just such a man. Yahoo! Sports columnist Charles Robinson writes that "Garcia has emerged from the cusp of what was surely a retirement tour to become one of the hottest quarterbacks in the league" (12/26/06).

Anything can happen now, for Philly and for Jeff. I can't wait to see what the playoffs hold in the upcoming weeks.

But no matter what, Jeff will remain my favorite quarterback and the one that got it all started.

Jeffrey, my hero, I will love you forever.

Crunch Time

2006-12-10T23:12:00.000-08:00

Ah...'tis that glorious time of year, when festivities and finals converge in a frantic mix of carols, papers, and long dark nights. Unfortunately, this exhilarating[ha!] combination has prevented much chance at blogging, but I hope to get back in the swing of things within the next couple of weeks, because there is some very important ground to cover:

1. I have now officially tasted the three coffee superpowers of North America: Starbucks, Peet's, and Tim Hortons. A comparative analysis is forthcoming.

2. Breaking news from the Mullet Chronicles. I'm overdue for an update, and there has been a most disturbing development...

And finally....
3. Perhaps the first attempt at fiction on this blog. Why? Well, do you have a dog? If so, do you often find this worthy creature's hair in exceedingly uncomfortable locations all over your home? My family does, and it's getting to be nearly unbearable. Thus, a horror story addressing this common plague is brewing...

So, I hope y'all have a wonderful Monday and are enjoying this beautiful month.

Updates coming soon!

DO NOT EAT THE CHICKEN FEET, Pt. 2

2006-11-28T23:40:00.000-08:00

In case you were wondering what the chicken feet looked like--this was after I'd removed one of the digits, so it was slightly mauled, but you get the idea....

Dude, what was I thinking??!??!?!?!?

Also, I must give props to my brothers Robbie and Andy, because they tried los pies de los pollos as well. Robbie said they were bueno, Andy seemed ill. But Robbie says everything is bueno.

One more time, DO NOT EAT THE CHICKEN FEET!!!

Big thanks to M. Tang for sending the pic!

DO NOT EAT THE CHICKEN FEET

2006-11-26T22:48:00.000-08:00

This morning I headed down to San Francisco again with some buenos amigos for Roland's baptism service. Gray puddles reflected steep and staggered buildings as wind and rain pushed through the city streets, and as I ate chicken feet.

How did this come to pass? Well, while enjoying "dim sum" for the first time at lunch, I was informed by a certain individual who shall remain nameless that chicken feet were actually quite a tasty appetizer. I do not doubt his sincerity, as he calmly consumed one himself later on, but merely the strange affections of his taste buds. Alas, I agreed to try the feet should they be procured.

Ahhhh...what can I say? From the very first when they were delivered to the table, neatly piled in a pot, I was reminded eerily of tiny, scaly hands. Chicken feet indeed they were, looming swollen and red and just one angry chicken ghost away from crawling back to life. But I'd said I would try them, and eat them I must. I warily placed a single digit in my mouth.

Immediately, my memory leapt back to days of yore when my family owned banty hens and I beheld them scuffing and squawking in the dirt, their wrinkled feet sifting and scratching through grass and twigs as they went about their daily tasks. Those chickens were my friends.

This mental flashback alone was enough for me to realize I'd had enough, but sadly, I also had the taste and texture to reckon with. And without going into detail, I must say that it was exactly as you'd expect. Every scaly, chewy drop.

And there's your Monday advice: listen to your friends, trust your friends, try new things with your friends. But no matter what they say...

Do NOT eat the chicken feet.

[It even rhymes!]

The City By The Bay, Pt. 2

2006-11-20T19:40:00.000-08:00

On Saturday a few of my siblings and I and some friends drove down to San Francisco to visit Kevin and Siew Choo Ong for the dedication of the San Francisco International House--a beautiful, historical home which will now be used by Grace Brethren North American Missions to provide housing for international students. Many of us who went had participated in the renovation efforts in the newly restored home, and it was fantastic to check out the finished product and to see Kevin and Siew Choo again--two of the most joyful, kindly people I've ever met. I wish I'd taken pictures of the interior, but there were so many folks wedged inside I didn't try.

However, after the dedication, my siblings and Ken and Mel and I decided to explore the city. I've rather disliked SF in the past because of the crowds and horrible parking, but a few trips this year have been changing my views. And this afternoon was absolutely the best trip to the City by the Bay yet. Such a beautiful city that someone such as myself who knows nothing about photography could snag a few good pics.

We trekked along the perimeter of Golden Gate Park for quite some time trying to find a certain area that Kevin told us featured darn snazzy Chinese food. Unfortunately, we were forced to ask directions from the natives on quite a few occassions, which had varying levels of results. But the adventure was in the finding...and the sights along the way.

It's steeper than it looks...

With all the new developments providing for an increasingly standardized Sacramento, I'm truly learning to appreciate buildings with character--which San Francisco has in abundance...

The kingdom in the hills...

For whatever reason, this blurry picture reminds me of a quote by the one and only Ferris Bueller: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it." So true, Ferris, so true.

I had to head back to this post for a photo: the typical graffiti smeared over the sign, but with "Love" scrawled above. Like, so, totally Frisco. ;-)

At long last we found our destination and sat ourselves down to some of the most incredible Chinese food we'd ever tasted. The place was fantastic--forks were not even an option (nor was water provided), so we all worked on our chopstick techniques. Thankfully, I still had some skills left from last summer's adventure in Cambodia, and they came in mighty handy. I tried not to show off (har har).

Ah yes, the most excellent jellyfish, my favorite (not really). It was a first for us all, and perhaps most surprising because it was cold. But quite good.

With so much food, we all kept enthusing about how much we'd have to take home. Until, that is, we looked about sometime later feeling stuffed and sleepy and realized nearly every plate had been almost scraped clean. Guess it's a good thing we had another long walk ahead of us.

It was a perfect day.

CRAZY

2006-11-15T23:46:00.000-08:00

I've been studying for hours for two very difficult midterms tomorrow (alas, the first is at 8 am). I'm trying to finish memorizing information for BioPsych about such wonders as the "olfactory bulb," "superior olive," and "lateral geniculate nucleus."

My brain is going to explode.

If you told me a pun right now, however horrible, I'd laugh hysterically and call you a genius. It's just a matter of time until the men in white coats show up.

Cheers!

'Tis The Season...(Almost)/The Office vs. LOST

2006-11-12T20:50:00.000-08:00

First: thank you to all who weighed in on the mullet debate! I'm grateful for the unexpected support for the mullet's continuation, and I am happy to report that for the time being, Tim has consented to bear this highly notorious do as well. The Mullet Chronicles lives on!

On another note...

My brother Robbie came to church today with Starbucks. This alone was cause for jealousy and thievery (just kidding...maybe?), but this was no ordinary Starbucks. No, he proudly chugged on a gingerbread latte IN one of Starbucks' holiday cups. With snowflakes on it.

As soon as I laid eyes on the coffee, it was as if Nat King Cole's voice filled the air with his soft, smooth and unsurpassed rendition of "The Christmas Song." And then it seemed that the lights flickered to red and green, snow sifted gently past the window, and I felt the bite of frost nipping at my face.

Not that I've ever been in a White Christmas--but hey, I can dream! And I've seen the movie every flippin' year!

The point of all this is that I have a real dilemma: I haven't had Starbucks in weeks and I'm getting desperate, but I refuse to cave in and begin enjoying the Christmas season prematurely. Everyone knows it doesn't start until the day after Thanksgiving, but businesses keep pushing it on us ealier and earlier every year with their gaudy decorations and endlessly rehashed carols. That's all good and well on it's own time, but Christmas should be appreciated when it truly is the season to be jolly, not before. The joy of Christmas is diminished when it's loudly displayed in storefront windows scarcely the day after Halloween. So, I'm determined to fight this. It is thus my daunting task to refrain from all Starbucks (because I know that as soon as I step in the shop I'm going straight for the holiday drinks) until after Thanksgiving.

I don't know if I can do this, but I'm gonna try. I'll keep you posted.

THE OFFICE vs. LOST

If you are a LOST fan, one of those who became absolutely enthralled with Season One (but perhaps have also found your interest waning during the show's recent nose dive from past days of glory), you will appreciate the significance of this:

Tonight, when some of my family members and I were faced with the choice of catching up with the last three episodes of LOST we'd not yet seen or catching up with this season's episodes of The Office, we chose....

The Office

This is huge, people. LOST took a back seat to an up-and-coming rival--something I never thought would happen. What can I say? The show truly is a work of art.

Dearest Jim...we are SO rooting for you.

The Mullet Chronicles, Pt. 4

2006-11-08T16:05:00.000-08:00

Well, compadres, it's that time again: that time when we suspend common sense and fashion sense and embark on our monthly quest with the Mullet Bearer, my honorable little brother Tim. Tim, if you are unaware of the backstory, consented months ago to be part of an experiment to determine if he would join Mel Gibson and become only the second man in the course of history to make a mullet look good. And, since his first mullet-shaping haircut, I have posted monthly photo updates of his subsequent physical and mental transformation (just look for The Mullet Chronicles in any of the last months' archives).

At any rate, in my last update Tim was still willing to bear the mullet, though morale was waning slightly. However, I was completely unprepared for the drastic attitude shift I would encounter when I came to Tim for his monthly photo shoot on Monday.

Now, to preface: this small person was already in a foul mood from a hard day's play in the backyard (you'll see the evidence on his face) when I began snapping away, and I unfortunately exacerbated the situation. However, not all the rage you will see is due to the mullet, and that is the important point.

Okay, on with it. This is the reaction I got when I first approached Tim for pics:

Yes, he did indeed resort to violence and tried to disable the camera. Thankfully, he did not succeed.

Surprised by this reaction, I asked him to show the camera how he felt about having a mullet:

I have to admit I found his "talk to the hand" bit so hilarious I pressed him for more pictures. Sadly, that precipitated his mad dash across the yard to avoid the paparazzi:

Thankfully, I was able to snap one good pic of his mullet...

...Before he hid himself for good.

Though I found all of this drama highly amusing, I was also sad for my brother and wondered how long he'd been feeling badly about his mullet. I asked him later when he was rested up and calmed down what he thought of his hairdo, and he said,

"Not good."

"Why?"

"Because it's a mullet."

"What's wrong with having a mullet?"

"It's not cool."

Out of the mouths of babes...
Anyway, since Tim no longer liked his mullet, I knew the time had come to call it quits, thank the small one for his efforts, and give him a buzz. However, all of that was about to change.

I don't know who did this to him, but Tim persuaded one of my siblings that evening to put his hair in a ponytail--a first for him, and for that matter, most of the males in my home. For whatever reason, he thought this ponytail was just about the coolest thing to ever happen to him.

As a matter of fact, not only did he gladly give me a pic, but he also--no joke--asked me to put a picture "on the blog." I do not kid. [When I was four, all I knew about was toys and backyards and the daily quest to find out what we were having for dinner--how is it that this little man knows what a "blog" is? Certainly, I've told him all about the Mullet Chronicles, but I was still surprised by his easy reference.]

So, the end result was that he liked the ponytail so much that his faith in the mullet was restored, as it was what gave him long enough hair for the twist in the first place

And thus...we have come to a crossroads. Tim is, for the moment, neutral about his haircut, though I think the time may have come to throw in the towel and free the small man. But I'm not sure. Ultimately, the final decision is up to Tim, but I need your help because I have some options for consideration. I'll present them all to Tim, but I'd appreciate your feedback.

The Mullet Crossroads Poll

Should we....

1. Buzz Tim's head, leaving only a stylin' popytail hanging from the top of his neck?

2. Throw in the towel, buzz his head completely, and help him form an Anti-Mullet League?

3. Cut off Tim's mullet, and--since someone in my family should be the bearer--give my rockin' brother Andy (below), of whom I am so very fond, a mullet late one night while he is sleeping?

MUAHAHAHAHA. [Okay, okay--I know that if anyone should be force-fed a mullet it should be me, since I started this, but don't even THINK about it. You couldn't make it happen even if you tied me down with chains.]

4. Or...should we convince Tim with enough compliments and candy, to look to Mel for inspiration and stick with the mullet experiment for just a little longer?

My boss, who is very cool, sent some of his family's leftover Halloween candy home with me today for my siblings. In the bag were some mighty tasty candy cockroaches and eyeballs (seen below), which were a smash hit with the little people and could be used to give the mullet a more positive connation for Tim.

So what's your choice?

The Worst Jack-O'-Lantern In The WORLD

2006-11-06T19:02:00.000-08:00

I know these pictures are coming quite late, but I'm hoping punkin carvin' is a significant enough event that y'all won't mind. My family's carving ritual took place the Sunday night before Halloween, and our friends Ken and Corey joined us for the ride. Hacking into these orange spheres always holds a strange pleasure, especially on an autumn night when the air bites with cold and holds the faint essence of smoke sifting from some warm home's chimney down the road. It was quite the evening.

Now, before I post the pics, a highly important qualifier: when it comes to carvin' punkins, there ain't no utensils better suited than them that God gave us:

Yes, the innards are squishy and goopy and feel like I'd imagine a large pile of writhing caterpillars would (my worst nightmare)--well, actually not near that bad but still quite slimy-- but these hands were made for scoopin.'

Planning the works of art...

And the hacking begins...

And you thought gutting the pumpkins with bare hands was gross?
Don't do it, Ken, don't do it! NOOOOO!

Uh...that smile is a little strange and I think Corey may be enjoying his knife a bit too much.
[...Backing away slowly, backing away slowly...]

The aftermath (who's gonna clean this up?)

Another qualifier before I display the finished products: I must explain why I did what I did, as a great deal of persecution was administered when I'd finished.

Normally, I go all out and carve, if I do say so myself, some rather intricate designs in my punkin. ;-) However, this year I was possessed with a strange mood and became convinced that I should go for a very simple, classic Jack-O'-Lantern look. Furthermore, I recalled a painting I'd seen years ago in a book (I think it may be called "The Scream"?) of someone standing stupified on the deck of a boat, if I remember correctly, his face gripped in a skeletal, chilling scream. It creeped me out to the max and I thought I'd try to duplicate the look. HA.

Anyway, when my pumpkin was revealed, it was met with laughter and horror and pronounced the worst punkin of the night. I must say I agree wholeheartedly with the consensus (though I protested for some time that it was really a lofty work of art), and retracted my pumpkin from the Jack-O'-Lantern competition. Alas, it was too late. The damage was already done.

See at right:

As my little sister Emma accurately put it, it looks "like an angel without his head." Good synopsis!

Most of the other efforst were pretty awesome, however. Corey carved two of the smaller pumpkins for the little people, and while the rest of us were discussing/deriding each other's efforts, calmly and quietly hacked away at the end of the table and produced some darn impressive stuff.

Check out Corey's punkin at the left:

My brother Robbie, however, was unanimously awarded the title for best punkin of the year. I laughed at him as he spent ages and ages carving his pumpkin's teeth, but it was quite effective in the end.

On the left, the WINNAH!

Most of the punkins....

"It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!"

Coming soon...
If all goes well, I'll have the latest photo episode of The Mullet Chronicles up tomorrow night. I took the pictures today, and I must warn you: the mullet bearer's morale is running low and this effort may not last much longer. Check back tomorrow for what may be the last episode in this epic saga...(saga epic?)

See you at the ballot box tomorrow!

It's raining, It's pouring.../THE ALARM

2006-11-03T06:55:00.000-08:00

It's raining

It's pouring

The old man is snoring

He bumped his head

On the bedstead

And he couldn't get up

In the morning

Have you ever heard this old tune? I remember singing it all the time as a wee lass, and today when I was reminded of it I realized just what a strange and somber song it is. I don't know what it means, but it doesn't seem that nice. At any rate, we have heavy skies today here in Sac, and for hours yesterday the clouds emptied themselves on the dark and dripping landscape. It was our first good fall rain, and a good day to be at home sick. Here's to rain and fuzzy socks and small people (with large mullets) for huggin' when you're feeling yucky.

Today is a work day, though, and I have an interesting development there: after four months at The Office, I have been officially entrusted with....[drum roll please] The Key. I'll be the only one there today, and I'm looking forward to being Queen of The Office for a day.

BUT before I can begin my brief reign, I must get past...[scary music please]

THE ALARM.

For most people, entering the code and unlocking the door would be no problemo, boss. But alas, I have a history with alarms. On my first day working the morning shift at Cold Stone so very long ago (not really) I was similarly entrusted with The Key and The Code. My excitement and apprehension were unparalleled. At this time I did not have a car, so my mom dropped me off at work that fateful morning. With trembling hands I unlocked the door. I rushed inside to the foreboding beep beep beep of the alarm. I punched the code. My finger slipped. I frantically re-hit the numbers.

Uh oh.

A long, tortured silence filled the store. And then...just when I let out my breath...

BANG.

The small room exploded into sound. I finally hit the correct numbers as a deafening wail engulfed the small room. And then fumbled through a very awkward conversation with security personell.

Afterward, I headed to the front of the store and looked out the window, my face crimson with embarassment. And sure enough, there she was, my mom laughing at me through the van window in the parking lot. As I confirmed later, the alarm was kinda loud. She heard it even in the car. But what I want to know is, what did the poor innocent folks at Starbucks (with whom Cold Stone shares a wall) think when the room next door exploded with squealing wails? I guess we'll never know.

So, all of this to say, if you're driving through Natomas in the vicinity of 8 o' clock a.m. this morning, and are suddenly interupted by the sound of an alarm blaring from a large office building, and you look over to see a lone girl dashing about madly inside and gesturing wildly as the cops march to the door--pay it no mind. Just drive on your merry way.

Unless, of course, you're one of my family members or closest friends, in which case I may be calling you up to fork over some bail.

JUST KIDDING.

Finally, I've been wanting to post the punkin carvin' pictures that I mentioned earlier, but other responsibilities and being under the weather discouraged it. So hopefully they will be up this weekend.

Less than three weeks 'till Turkey Time!

Halloween/Harvest Harley Girls

2006-10-28T21:32:00.000-07:00

Warrning: The following post contains mucho, mucho pictures. Patience is recommended.

At last! After showing a small portion of the costume I worked up for last Friday's Halloween/Harvest gig, now I can post the full pictures, as well as those of other costumers from Friday.

I discovered this year just how fantastic thrift stores are for putting together a costume. I'd decided I wanted to go as a biker chick, and one of the first things I dug up at a local thrift shop was an old "leather" jacket that seemed perfect for the job. My sister Lila and brother Dan also rummaged around with me, and found a tiny biker outfit for my little sister Emma, so we could match. Seemed like a great idea, and when I got home we both donned our gear. Emma (a.k.a. Peggy) immediately embodied the character of a biker, whereas when I appeared in my jacket, I was met with merciless laughter from some unnamed family members. Biker it indeed was not--it needed a certain something to give it that "edge." Thus, I kept shopping, and dug up these awesome boots:

They made me want to take kickboxing, and were just what the outfit needed. However, the jacket was still rather dull, so I grabbed some iron-on patches and sequins and got to work. This was by far the most fun part of the costume quest. You've already seen the biggest patch in the previous post, but here are a few of the others:

A tribute to the great Napoleon Dynamite...

Embracing my identity...

For all my fellow nerds...

And I thought this was a good opportunity to voice certain things about the NFL that I feel very strongly about, such as...

And...

Boy howdy was that fun. :-) A few other additions and the costume was ready to roll. Now, ideally, Emma and I would pose by a motorcycle for pics in our biker chick gear. However, seeing as how neither one of us has a Harley (yet), we had to go with the closest thing to a motorcycle that we could find:

HAHAHAHA. Just kidding. Actually, my brother just bought some sort of little motorcycle, but alas, it was not at the house when we took pictures. Doesn't Emma look hardcore?

I love the fierce expression on Emma's face in this picture. Believe me, you do not want to mess with this girl.

After we got geared up on Friday, Robbie and Andy and I met up with some friends from our college Bible study at Mel's diner for dinner. I love Mel's--the vintage pics on the walls, jukeboxes on the tables (at some locations) and good ol' greasy American cuisine make for a good time.

Sarah the Girl Scout, Hannah the Scottish Country Dancer, and Becca the Viking Opera Singer...

Matt (on the left) co-leads our College Bible Study with his wife Michelle. They are pretty much part of my family, and I could never say enough about what they have done for 412, my fam, and me personally. On Matt's right is my brother Robbie, who went as Charlie Brown, and then of course Mike Tang the "state worker."

After dinner we met up with some other friends and went "costume bowling."
Jen the original Strawberry Shortcake doll...

Good times with good friends: life doesn't get any better than that.

We carved pumpkins for Halloween last night, but I'll give y'all a reprieve and post the pictures tomorrow.

Happy Monday!

Pop Quiz Clue

2006-10-26T16:40:00.000-07:00

So here's a little clue as to the costume I've been working on for tomorrow's Halloween/fall shindig:

Is it the geekiest thing you've ever seen?
Perhaps.
But I tell you what, it has been darn good fun putting this thing together.
Complete pictures of all the costumes to be posted this weekend...

Pop Quiz

2006-10-25T23:16:00.000-07:00

So, are you planning to get all costumned out for Halloween/Harvest/Autumn/Whatever?

Halloween itself I'm not too keen on, but it's a great excuse for corny attire, cool decor, and good times with family and buds. After all, Halloween kicks off the holiday season and you know that when it has rolled around, Thanksgiving and Christmas are just around the corner (yippee!). Besides, autumn/Halloween evokes memories and pleasant thoughts of hot coffee, cold nights, and old friends. October is always BE-U-TEE-FUL!

Anyway, my College Bible Study is having an autumn gathering this Friday night at which costumes are preferred, but not required. I snag any excuse to get dressed up like a goofball, and I've been planning my costume for days. Last year at our Corn Maze trek we had some pretty sweet outfits, featuring PeeWee Herman, my brother Rob as a sort of multicultural man with dreads, a princess (of course), Rambo, Mike Myers and myself as some sort of goth/vampire/punk. Holie molie, I loved that costume. But the strange thing was that when we were thrashing about in the Maze (if you have never been to a giant Corn Maze on a long black night when the stars are clear and the air is biting, I would highly recommend it: it evokes sudden bursts of wild running and unexplainable thrills of terror, is highly reminiscint of creepy scenes in the great Signs, and makes for quite the good time with a group of amigos), some strange dude leaped out of the corn and screamed to scare me (and succeeded), and then apologized, explaining that he "thought I was [his] wife." Fair enough, but just how many wives run about in mazes at night with long black wigs, white painted faces, and red fishnet tights?
Hmmm.

At any rate, I'm quite excited about this year's costume and very curious to see others' as well, and have been ransacking the thrift stores to put it together.

Here are the three options I considered, your job is to guess which one was chosen:
Will it be...

1. Ultra-Homeschooler
With: a long flowered skirt, heavy belt, sneakers and a bonnet...

2. Biker Chick
Leather jacket, bandana, boots and all.

3. Princess Leia (from Star Wars)
Featuring gen-u-ine cinammon rolls pinned to the side of a wig, a tribute to her Episode 4 do!

The answer to be revealed later this week!

Are you dressing up for some gathering? If so, what's your costume? What's the coolest costume you've ever worn/seen worn?

Michael Tang Up Close And Personal: The Final Nerd Word Championship Interview

2006-10-24T23:06:00.000-07:00

At last, the final interview with the Nerd Word Championship Winners! Today:
Michael Tang on Geekiness, The "Pun", and Being a Nerd (Word Champion)

The Man

Mr. Tang (above), is quite a good friend of mine and does not always wear these lab glasses, though they do make him look very official. :-) I've only known him 9 or so months through RCG and 412, but he has withstood the persecution that accompanies hanging out with the "Nevii" (my family) quite exceptionally well and has been a wonderful friend to myself and many others. He presently works for Chevron pumping gas (har har)--actually, the truth of the matter is that he is a science whiz and does some very complex lab work. I tried to get him to explain what exactly he does for Chevron months ago when he started the job, and insisted (after some very elementary explanations were dished out) that he didn't need to talk down to me because I, after all, had taken basic Chemistry the past year. Ha. What a mistake that was! I'm still convinced he was talking down to me and though I tried to nod intelligently, I really have no clue what he was trying to say. At any rate, his work is very admirable, though it has taken him away from Sac. :-( However, he did compete in the Nerd Word Championship and was awarded an Honorable Mention Award by my Father, and kindly participated in an interview.

The Pun

My favorite part about this interview is Michael's discussion of The Pun. Those who know me know that I have very strong feelings about this common attempt at "humor" (I think in this instance the term is used quite loosely). My Father is a notrious punner, as well as several other worthy individuals in my immediate acquaintance, and though I am grateful for the laughter generated--usually at the marked silence that follows the release of a pun-bomb--I really have no appreciation for its usage, though I am trying to gain some. A couple of these punners have made admirable attempts at reform due to intense persecution (entailing an actual pun ban) resulting from excessive punnage (I must admit I have participated at length in this persecution and regret the extent of it, and am attempting reform myself). At any rate, The Pun still mystifies me, and I'm grateful for any discussion of its supposed worth. Hence, a very informative interview.

The Winning Entry

"Don't cry over the spilt milk"
"You're a gentleman and a scholar"
"Takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin"
"When you're sittin' on the john/and the toilet paper's gone/be a man and use your hand/diarrhea...diarrhea"

The Interview

HSN: First of all, please describe your feelings when you learned that you had been crowned an Honorable Mention in a Nerd Word Championship.

TANG: Shocked, dismayed, surprised. Those were the first three thought-words that came to mind in a sleepy stupor in front of a workstation at 0730 hours. Recognizing that there was very stiff competition, I didn't think I had it in myself to qualify for ANYTHING close to top honors. But again, a pleasant delight.

HSN: Would you consider yourself a "nerd" in general? Why or why not?

TANG: I don't think I would consider myself a "nerd", but more of an "aspiring nerd"-if such a category exists. It is true that sometimes my vocabulary is laced with random technical trivia, including the likes of physics, math, and chemistry. But alas, I hold a common B.S. degree, though the fact that it is in the sciences significantly increases my nerd status. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the Integrated Studies brethren from UC Davis, who are truly the crem de le crem of nerdism and also some of the brightest students that this university (top 3%). They have helped me achieve my (closet) goals in becoming the man of nerd I am today.

HSN: I must inform you that it was probably your "When you're sittin'on the john/and the toilet paper's gone..." reference that inspiried my Dad to give you this award. Is this an original composition (I've heard several variations of the chant), or did you hear of it elsewhere?

TANG: You know what they say - "imitation is the greatest form of flattery". And well, though I am highly honored to see that this comment, which was more of an outlier and not the "meat" of the nerd entry, propelled me into the HSN (i.e., championship ranks, I must admit that this quote is an unedited version of a number of "diarreah" jokes. There were a number of other #3-related material that was mentioned, but this is the one that stuck, unlike the others (so to speak) :P

HSN: When you submitted your entry, you said you thought some friends of yours who had excellent pun skills were probably more appropriate candidates. Do you feel that these friends are rubbing off on you and you may begin indulging in the art of punning yourself?

TANG: If you define "good punner" = nerd, then yes I do have some friends who have their prime cuts of clever & witty remarks. Most of them are from the I.S. group (as mentioned earlier), but don't forget about those from California State schools-including the likes of E. Steen & D WOLFE MAN. They pack the punch...sometimes, too much.
They have definitely refined my pun/nerdism over the last 2 years, as they are the epitome of nerdism as of this day. But as it says in Proverbs 27:17, a certain type of "sharpening" has definitely been taking place (though not in the same context as Proverbs!) I believe this art has mutually refined one another...not only in the art of pun-making, but also providing a fun activity, so that we don't drive one another up the wall by discussing theology and doctrine all day long. NOW HOW BORING WOULD THAT BE!
In closing, I would say that I need to exercise careful discernment with the punning, lest strict restrictions be placed upon me by 4:12 et al. It would be sad to be ostracized due to my lack of self-control in the activity, as powerful and entertaining it may be.

LRN: What are your general thoughts on the merits (or lack thereof) of the "pun"?

TANG: Timing, tact, wit, delivery. That is secret pun recipie for the mang. Proportions will always vary, and careful attention to each of the ingredients is important for maximum impact (i.e., head-shakeage). That is the ultimate goal - to bring as much attention to self as possible.
*AHEM* I mean, to creatively work with the material at hand and attain as much showmanship possible for great entertainment. :-D An often overlooked element is the audience. One may have a good mix of the elements, but if the recipients don't understand, the pun bottoms out & recovery is nearly impossible. Being the goat is highly imminent as well.Please note that though I have gotten pretty good at the game of punning, I am always welcome to suggestions and am learning how to refine my methods. Again, many thanks to RCG folks and UCD brethren for heavily contributing to my punful ways, calling me out when necessary.

HSN: One final question: are you proud to be known as a winner in a Nerd Word Championship? Why or why not?

TANG: Definitely, it is an accomplishment, but it was done "with a little help from my friends". And the Beetles too :P But if it were not for that dirty joke, I'm not sure if I would be writing to you, my audience. I think that a fluke in the rules and a lot luck got me where I am now, so I can't say that I totally earned it. I am very grateful however, and do look forward to future contests that will challange me to push the envelope to new and fresh nerdisms. By the way, who said Timex slogans aren't nerdy?! ("Takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'")

THANK YOU MICHAEL AND CONGRATULATIONS!

This concludes the Nerd Word saga. One final note: my brother Robbie has come out as of today and declared that he does not say "Lookin' good in the neighborhood," as I quoted him as saying, he says "Sounds good in the neighborhood." Technicality, you say? Big difference, he says. I stand by the original quote and believe my siblings will back me up on this, but in case he is testifying accurately, I must repent of my error and the truth must be brought to light.
Sound good in the neighborhood to you?
Looks good to me! :-)

For Your Monday: Mullet Family Portrait

2006-10-22T18:57:00.000-07:00

Happy Monday one and all!

My friend Lara very kindly sent me this photo, and it made me laugh so I hope it brightens your Monday.

Mullet Family Portrait

Not only did this photo make me smile, but it was also a much-needed shot in the arm for my little brother Tim's mullet experiment (look for "The Mullet Chronicles" in the archives for the backstory). I have to admit that morale has been waning as the mullet has been slow in coming and persecution has intensified from certain unnamed family members who do not appreciate Tim's journey. Also, the last time I cut Tim's hair I kind of buzzed the top really closely so that he has mildly resembled a young friar, a pious fringe of hair encircling his noggin. Not exactly a mullet look, but it's growing back. And this picture was just the inspiration I needed.

Tim, if you stick with me, I can help you achieve even this level of mullet greatness.

Yes, my friend, even this.

The Perfect Day/Interview With The Nerd Word Winnas, Pt. 2

2006-10-21T20:02:00.000-07:00

The Perfect Day

Thursday was, unexpectedly, an eerily-perfect day.

I’d been up to all hours of the night in the previous weeks studying for two midterms looming large that afternoon, but I woke up at 5 rarin’ to go and anxious to get some last minute studying knocked out of the way. Shortly thereafter, I discovered that Rodney had posted the following Dilbert cartoon the night before:

Now this was score number one. My thoughts on coffee exactly. Speaking of which, I soon realized that Starbucks would come in real handy before a test. The stars were still luminous overhead and the air was biting as I jumped in my car--it was a beautiful morning. And I guess I was a little disoriented by the fact that my windows were frosted over, so I sorta kinda swung out a little wide and backed up into one of our trashcans.

Oops!

But here’s the miracle: I immediately pulled forward, and the can righted itself beautifully. At that moment I knew that this was going to be A Perfect Day.

Score three came just moments after I returned from Starbucks. Before I begin, a word of advice: if you do not presently have a family member/friend employed in the pizza business, take whatever means necessary to get one. My brother Andy is an Assistant to the Regional Manager (har har—actually he’s assistant manager) at a local pizza joint, and I can tell you right now that his discounts/free pizza hookups have come in mighty handy—but only on special occasions, of course. And thus the following. Directly upon my return home, I went straight to the fridge to deposit a coffee I’d bought for someone else. When I opened that door, it was as if the heavens opened and the angels bellowed a hallelujah, because there, sitting large and beautiful in the faint yellow light, were four large pizzas. Andy had apparently brought them home from a late night shift the night before, which has only happened on extremely rare occasions. I nearly wept with joy, as I’m used to eating little or nothing but coffee until after I return home from school or work. Typically that’s how I like it, but Thursday was a big day. And everyone knows that cold pizza and coffee is the breakfast of champions. [Can I get an AMEN!]

And finally, the last big signal that I was the beneficiary of a Perfect Day: when I arrived to my 8 o’clock class, one of my classmates proceeded to tell me—no joke—how that morning she had backed up into one of her trashcans, but hers had tipped over and emptied its contents, and she spent the last few frantic minutes before class picking up soggy trash in the street.

I felt compassion, but still, I couldn't help wondering. What are the odds, my friends?
What are the odds?

And the rest of the day's events considered, it was indeed a Perfect Day.

And now...
Interview No. 2 of the Nerd Word Championship Winners
A Personal Chat with Rebekah Tennis, The Runner Up!

Rebekah and her husband Matt (see above) have been part of RCG and friends of the "Nevii" for quite some time. My brothers Robbie and Andy and I have spent many a long evening/night being ruthlessly annihilated by Matt in cutthroat games of "Risk." He is the near-undefeated champion--believe me, you do not want to mess with this man when it comes to Risk. Our evenings nearly always ended the same way: Matt trying not to look smug as his troops covered the entire face of the board--with the exception of one tiny peice of land on which were huddled the last lone troops of the resistance, wearily waiting to DIE. Rebekah, on the other hand, is the queen of Scrabble, pulling out those seven-letter combos (a feat I have never achieved) like nobody's business. She is also a great graphic designer (RCG has greatly benefited from her mad design skills)--check out her portfolio at Rebekah Tennis Design.

And it is due to the combined skills of her husband (the original quoter of many of the geeky phrases she entered) and herself that she was awarded the title of Runner Up to the National Nerd Word Champion!

Before we begin the interview, The Winning Entry:

"Stick that in your pipe and smoke it!"
"Pin that Tail on yer Donkey!" (although [Matt] does even sometimes say "Honkey" for extra oomph)
"Look that up in your Funk and Wagnalls!"
"Boy Howdy!"
"Man Alive!"
And finally..."Oh my heavens to Betsy!"

Interview With The Runner Up:
Rebekah Tennis On The Key To Her Nerd Word Success

LRN: Congratulations on winning the Second Place Award in the Nerd Word Championship. How much credit would you say is due your husband Matt for your success?

RT: I give all credit and kudos to him for being the great Nerd Word User (NWU) and general in-house amusement. However, I'll snag credit for taking all of Matt's phrases with the proverbial grain of salt and enjoying them (over and over and over and over) with a sense of humor, unless I got dumped out on the wrong side of the bed that day.

LRN: Have you found that with the passing of time these nerd words typically used by Matt have been incorporated into your vocabulary? If so, do you view this as a positive development?

RT: Hm. Not so much. I have my own set of carefully hidden expressions (you see, now it comes out) which pretty much fill my vocabulary for day to day life. However, I have caught myself "quoting" (and you know I'm serious when I put a quote inside of a quote) with fingers in the air, and recoiled at the horror of my own hands... but then again, NO ONE can really imitate MT with The Quote.

LRN: I happen to be of the view that people who use geeky words (within reason) are actually the coolest. Would you agree?

RT: Ah, but Lucy, it's the within reason that trips so many people up. Not many can pull off the geeky-becomes-uber-coolness. There are so few, so few.

LRN: Perhaps you could enlighten us as to why people use admittedly nerdy phrases. Do we do it because we're under the mistaken notion that we will then appear to be on the cutting-edge of culture, or because we're fondly bringing back remembrance of geeky days gone by, or for other reasons? What are your thoughts?

RT: I'd say other reasons.

LRN: Some usages of chessy phrases can result in intense persecution. For example, my brother Robbie has endured great torment after his indulgence in the phrase "lookin' good in the neighborhood." What words of encouragement could you give the brave souls who persevere in their nerd word (and pun) usage while facing extreme opposition?

RT: Just Keep on Truckin'. The world is made up of great people like you.

Thanks Rebekah and congratulations!

Coming soon...
Pt. 3 of the Interviews With The Nerd Word Winnas: Michael Tang on geekiness, the "pun", and being a nerd (Word Champion).

In The Mind of a Champion: Interview with the Nerd Word Winna!

2006-10-17T22:25:00.000-07:00

After Mr. Chad Oneil was selected as the ultimate champion of the Nerd Word Contest, he very kindly consented to participate in an email interview to expound upon the method behind the glory. Mr. Oneil (seen below), is a Florida-based blogger who publishes outstanding orginal photography and accompanying commentary at the Photog Blog, and who displayed remarkable skills with geeky phrases.

Before we dive into the interview, I give you once again...

The Entry That Won It All:

"Oh my Word"
Calling a paper towl a "Scott Towel", regardless if it's "Scott" brand or not
"Holy Cow"
"Heck Yes"
"What the Flip?"
"Want to join my "Lazer Tag Team?"
"Looks like a Medieval Warrior."
"Gosh!"
"I was hunting for "Wolverines."
"Sweet" (as in cool)
"Bogus" (as in cool)
"Radical" (as in cool)
"Bodashish" (as in cool)
"Narly" (as in cool)
"Yesss" (as in good)
"What you say is what you are"
"I know you are, but what am I?"
"Not"

And now...

In The Mind of a Champion: Interview with the Nerd Word Winna!

LRN: How do you feel about being known as the Supreme Champion of a Nerd Word Competition?

CHAD: I’m glad that I was Victorious in this clash of the Titans!

LRN: It's obvious you drew a lot of your inspiration for the winning entry from the film Napoleon Dynamite. I know you're a fan--can you expound on your passion for this work of art?

CHAD: It’s just very unique and your right, it is a form of art. Some people who like it had to see it more than once before they knew they liked it, but for me, as soon as I saw it the first time on DVD, I connected with it! I don’t consider myself to be like the characters in the movie, but I think we all have felt and feel awkward sometimes like the characters do in this film. It just reminds me a lot of my high school days in Pennsylvania, riding a school bus in the country and so on. The way the character of Don (the Jock Prep) dresses in the film reminds me of the way we dressed at my school. The characters of Summer and Trisha remind me of the type of girls in my high school as well. I think Napoleon is a collaboration of different people that I’ve known. This film is also one of the most “quotable” films I’ve ever seen. It’s a very “line driven” movie. Every scene has simple dialogue that is somehow funny in it’s awkwardness and weirdness. It’s amazing how the dialogue from this movie has infiltrated pop culture now. Oh, and the character of Farmer Lyle shooting the cow in the field just seems like something that could happen where I lived during high school. One of the big things that always stuck out to me about this movie, is that it’s just good clean fun. As you can tell, I really could sit down and talk about this film for a long time. What can I say, I just love it.

LRN: What would you say to people (alas, there are some who make this claim) who say that Napoleon Dynamite is boring and stupid?

CHAD: Believe me, I know some of them, especially in my office. When I first bought the DVD, I loaned it to a number of my co-workers. More times than not, they just didn’t get it. But at the same time, many other people I come into contact with loved it as much as I do. Obviously it has a following, just look at all the merchandise out there from the movie! A small film like this doesn’t get that big without a huge fan base. My friend Dusty and I became friends through quoting the movie back and forth. I do think a younger audience “gets” the film quicker, but not always. You either get it and love it, or you don’t at all. Although my friend David did not like it at first, but even he quotes it from time to time here at work. But then again, David doesn’t like the show “the Office” either and that is one of my favorite shows on TV.

LRN: You used a lot of old-school retro words in addition to Napoleon references. For example, "radical," "bogus," and "narly." How did you become acquainted with these words, and are they a typical part of your vocabulary?

CHAD: Not anymore, but when I was in grade school in Pennsylvania during the 80’s, they were a part of my normal speech. I’m sure using these words as slang originated in the Surfing culture of California, but somehow made their way to the farm lands of PA., probably through movies. So, yes, I used to use these words along with my friends. “Dude” is another word that has actually come back recently. I used to say it in grade school, then stopped at some point. In recent times, it has come on the scene once again and made it’s way back into my vocabulary.

LRN: If you do frequently incorporate geeky phrases, do you face much persecution? If so, what form does it usually take? Do you stand firm in your nerdy usage and fight against it?

CHAD: The only persecution I might face is if I use Napoleon jargon around “Haters” of the movie. Other than that, not too much. When that does happen though, I stand firm in my appreciation for the film. My friends did bring to attention of how I used to call all paper towels, “Scott Towels”. I never really thought about it before that.

LRN: Have you been known as the "nerdy" type in past years, or are you "Mr. Suave"?

CHAD: I was never a “Nerd”, but I do know what it’s like to feel awkward. I don’t know if I’m really “Suave” now, but I like to think that I’ve come a long way in that area. I’m a lot more confident of a person than I was as a teenager, that’s for sure. I was more of an “athlete” in high school, definitely not a nerd. I dressed more like “Don” in Dynamite.

LRN: What words of advice would you like to leave any readers who perhaps have not yet attained to nerd word greatness?

CHAD: Watch Napoleon Dynamite. Soon, you'll be talking about stuff like shooting 50 Wolverines to protect your cousins and how Ligers are bred for skills and magic.

LRN: THANK YOU CHAD AND CONGRATULATIONS!!!! May you live to see many more years of nerd word domination.

CHAD: Thank you, Luce. May the Nerd Word Force be with you!

Thanks again, Chad, for taking the time to share some inspiring thoughts with your fellow nerds, and thank y'all for reading.

Coming Soon...
In the Mind of a Champion Pt. 2: Interview With The Runner Up!

P.S. People, this is getting kind of dangerous. All this accumulation of new nerd words into my vocabulary (I have to give credit to fellow blogger Bailey for drawing my attention to this) is coinciding with some massive studying for two bloody difficult midterms I have on Thursday (not only are they on the same day, they're 15 minutes apart [sob, sob]). Bad things could happen if my new knowledge in nerd words, brain anatomy, and US history gets mixed up on test day...for example:

The HSN's answer to Sample History Essay Question 1:

Question:
"What were the factors that induced Industrialization in the United States after the Civil War, and what were the effects of this change?"

HSN:
"Yo bro, some cool cats came up with some sweet inventions, and they was like "pin that tail on your donkey!" The rest of the dudes wanted in on the dealio, so they said, "Hey, these new business practices and technological advancements are oughta sight. Dibs!" They thought if they just went West and exploited the land they could have a larupin' good time. As if.

At this time some seriously uncool treatment of immigrant groups went on. These homies just wanted a peice of the pie, but the other totally not rad peeps said, "These aren't the driods we're looking for," and kinda messed with 'em. They didn't even get in trouble and thought everything was lookin' good in the neighborhood, and blamed new over-population on the immigrants themselves. But I say--he who smelt it dealt it.

Thankfully, though the new dudes took a lickin', they kept on tickin', that's fo shizzle. Also, some swell labor unions fought for the rights of the common brothas, some of which had freekin' radical ideas (but not in the coolio sense). In the end, it wasn't a big partay like everyone imagined, but--when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.

See ya later, alligator!"

Looks like I'm in for some serious trouble.
Please, someone, wake me up tomorrow and tell me that it's Friday.

Mr. Smokes Speaks Out

2006-10-16T23:46:00.000-07:00

In the interim while the follow-up interviews with the Nerd Word Champions are being compiled, please enjoy a few words from the most honorable Judge of the Competition, my Dad. Mr. Smokes noticed several key geeky phrases that were missed entirely in the submissions, and wished to share them, as well as some personal testimony as The Judge.

Mr. Smokes Speaks Out:
Personal Testimony from the Judge of the 2006 Nerd Word Championship

I have thoroughly enjoyed participating as judge in the Nerd Word Championships. I have seen a lot of swell entries, some that were cheesy, others that were sweet and others that were just out of sight. In and of it self, I thought this was a great competition among those who have at least a limited appreciation of those words and phrases that will hereafter be known as nerd words in the arena of Lucy's blog. I do want to acknowledge our winners for their time and effort in this...um...worthwhile?...um...educational?...um...culturally illuminating?...how about just plain fun competition. My special acknowledgement to the winner of our single nerd phrase that most captured my attention, MRS. Christina Duran--proud mother of Daniel Joseph, born Saturday morning! In a minute, I will need to make like a baby and head out, but before I do, I think it necessary to remind our participants of how few important nerd words they provided in light of the universe of nerd words available to us all. I think this is an important reminder to those whose minds are bent on the use of such words in and of itself. Here are some samples of missed words:

"That's nuts"

"Fiddlesticks"

"O my stars"

"Baloney"

"Numbskull"

"Nitwit"

"Bomb breath"

"Swamp breath"

"That's bananas"

"Butter-fingers"

"That's lame"

"I've had a gutful"

"Give me a break"

"What on earth is that?"

"Kickin' it"

"Lead foot"

"Goof ball"

"Mooch"

"You hot dog or hamburger"

"He's out to lunch"

"Have a blast"

These are just a few, but they are a reminder to all that nerd words have an important place in human language. I almost forgot klutz until I just knocked my phone onto the floor and a couple parts fell off. Well, I need to get back to my bureaucratic job. Oh well, "when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade."

--Smokey

**Tune in for follow-up interviews with the winners in the upcoming days

And The Nerd Award Goes To...

2006-10-16T02:26:00.000-07:00

Thank you for joining me as we witness the epic conclusion of the 2006 Nerd Word Championships!

Due to outstanding participation, the 2006 Championship was a smash success. Featuring a wide variety of strange words and phrases, the entries ranged from the pseudo-ghetto ("fo shizzle") to retro-80s ("turbo-ragin"). There were entire sections devoted to the odorific occurrences usually found in large groups of males ("he who smelt it dealt it"), as well as Star Wars/Napoleon Dynamite/Lord of the Rings references galore ("These aren't the droids we're looking for"). The statistics are impressive:

We had...

80 Entries

17 World-Class Competitors from...

4 States

2 Nations

1 Judge

And finally...

1 Champion.

After extensive review of all the entries yesterday by my Father--who was unaware of the identity of the competitors--his vote has been cast for the winner, runner-up, and honorable mention nerdiest-nerd challenger. Now, bear in mind that you may have differing opinions as the strength of these entries, as the judging was placed entirely in my Dad's hands (let's call him Mr. Smokes). However, no one can question the fact that he is absolutely qualified to judge such a momentous event, being one of the most accomplished users of nerd words himself (he frequently sports such beauties as "dee-lish," "that's a doozy," "tilt, " and "case closed").

And now, on with the business. It's time to separate the nerds from the super-nerds.

First, in honor of excellence in a single phrase, the National Nerd Word Championship wishes to present a Special Award.

This award is distinct from the standard champion, runner-up and honorable mention categories, and is presented by Mr. Smokes to pay particular honor to the competitor who provided the single phrase that made him laugh hardest in the entire competition.

The Special Award for Excellence goes to...[despite her assertions that she is NOT a nerd]

CHRISTINA DURAN

Before I display the winning entry, a little background information; because what would follow shortly after Christina entered the competition was quite an important event and also just a little ironic.

Christina, if you are not fortunate enough to know her, is a fantastic woman and mother who was expecting her third child with her equally worthy husband David.

On Thursday, the first day of the Competition, Christina submitted the following winning phrase:

"Let's make like a baby and head out."

Two days later, on a perfect Saturday morning, Christina gave birth to little Daniel Joseph Duran.

We are all rejoicing with David and Christina, and it's obvious where the true congratulations lie. Christina's first two children are already well-known as some of the most adorable to walk (or crawl) the face of the earth--see below:

Elly Belly, my little brother Tim's girlfriend, seen with my brotha Dan:

And little Michael is quite possibly the cuddliest and most charming child to ever live:

I was blessed to meet little Mr. Daniel J. Duran last night, and must admit he is an easy rival for Michael as the cuddliest child alive. He's beautiful and perfect and sports a fantastic head of hair, especially for a two-day old! Christina and the rest of the fam looked absolutely wonderful as well, and are safely home.

Congratulations David, Christina, Elly and Mike, and welcome, Mr. Dan! We love you all!

**For more details and a picture of Mr. Daniel, please visit Rodney and Stacy's blog.

It's hard to speak of anything else when such a great event has occurred, but there are three awards waiting to be distributed. And three exceptional contestants who must be congratulated!!!

At last, the Honorable Mention Award goes to...

MICHAEL TANG

Mr. Tang, a great friend of mine as well as many others, was the last contestant to submit entries, coming in for the punch late Friday night. Some of you may find the latter part of his entry a bit disturbing, please pardon the slightly disgusting element if so. My Father, being a male, of course, found the latter part of the entry wildly amusing and guffawed like a madman, so here it is...

The Winning Entry:

1. "Don't cry over the spilt milk"

2. "You're a gentleman and a scholar"

3. "Takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin"

"When you're sittin' on the john/and the toilet paper's gone/be a man and use your hand/diarrhea...diarrhea"

CONGRATULATIONS MICHAEL!

Moving along...
The Award for Runner-Up to the Champion goes to...

REBEKAH TENNIS

Rebekah submitted several outstanding, unusual submissions quite worthy of honor. Some of the credit must go to her husband Matt, who, as she noted, "is a real treasure trove of invaluable nerdy expressions"--often called "Mattisms." Matt, an excellent fellow, is a wealth of information and, as Rebekah also noted (quote by E. Steen): "Matt, when you quote, your entire essence quotes with you." Thus, credit is due both Matt and Rebekah for the following winning submissions:

"Stick that in your pipe and smoke it!"

"Pin that Tail on yer Donkey!" (although [Matt] does even sometimes say "Honkey" for extra oomph)

"Look that up in your Funk and Wagnalls!"

"Boy Howdy!"

"Man Alive!"

And finally...

"Oh my heavens to Betsy!"

CONGRATULATIONS REBEKAH!

Now, at long last, the moment we've all been waiting for. The most skilled nerd word quoter of all!

**Drum roll please**

And the 2006 Nerd Word Championship First Place Award Goes to....

CHAD ONEIL

For Outstanding Usage of a Wide Variety of Nerd Words and Phrases

Chad, an extremely talented photo-blogger from Florida, submitted two sets of nerd words that Mr. Smokes was incredibly impressed by. Napoleon Dynamite references peppered the entries, as well as flippin' sweet retro phrases.

I give you the WINNING ENTRY:

"Oh my Word"

Calling a paper towl a "Scott Towel", regardless if it's "Scott" brand or not

"Holy Cow"

"Heck Yes"

"What the Flip?"

"Want to join my "Lazer Tag Team?"

"Looks like a Medieval Warrior."

"Gosh!"

"I was hunting for "Wolverines."

"Sweet" (as in cool)

"Bogus" (as in cool)

"Radical" (as in cool)

"Bodashish" (as in cool)

"Narly" (as in cool)

"Yesss" (as in good)

"What you say is what you are"

"I know you are, but what am I?"

"Not"

CONGRATULATIONS CHAD FOR YOUR VICTORY AND FOR AN OUSTANDING ENTRY!

Thanks again to all the excellent participants. **Cue up the cheesy feel-good music, please** As any self-help book will tell you, you are ALL WINNERS.

CONGRATULATIONS CHRISTINA, MICHAEL, REBEKAH AND CHAD!!!
And thanks again to all the diligent competitors who made the 2006 Nerd Word Championship a success! And thank you to our honorable and invaluable judge, Mr. Smokes!

Finally, may the Nerd Words unearthed by this event live on in our hearts and our lives.

Rock on, most excellent nerds.

**Follow-up interviews with willing winners to be posted throughout the remainder of the week.

The Nerd Word Championship: An Update

2006-10-15T01:05:00.000-07:00

Good morning fellow nerds!

A quick update regarding the exciting nerd word championship, which has just drawn to a close:

Due to the sheer volume of geeky entries, the judging to take place this afternoon will be based on slightly different criteria. Rather than attempting to select one single word or phrase from the entirety of the entries, the Judge (Mr. Smokes) will select a champion based on the entire entry for each individual participant. Why? Well, with a plethora of nerd words up for grabs, it would be excessively difficult to judge the merits of each one against the rest (differentiating between the nerdiness of "rad" versus "boss," and then comparing the both to "beans, beans, the magical fruit..." would be quite the task), and selecting a winner would be a rather arbitrary task. Thus, the overall quality of each competitor's entries will be pitted against the quality of the entries of the other contestants. I'm sorry to change the rules, as that's not a classy thing to do, but it seems best for the sake of accuracy.

Now, if you are one of the few who held to the initial three-word limit, do not be alarmed. The emphasis will still be on quality, rather than quantity, with an oustanding single entry such as "larrupin" quite possibly scoring higher than the overall rating of a dozen weaker nerd words.

So, the judging will take place this afternoon, at which time the Champion, the Runner-Up, and the Honorable Mention will be notified of their success (and an interview requested). Finally, tonight, somewhere in the vicinity of midnight, the...

INTERNATIONAL NERD WORD CHAMPION will be CROWNED!!!!

**Once again, my Dad will not know who each set of entries represents, so no favouritism will take place. Thanks again to all participants, and may the best nerd win!

A Quick Nerd Word Friday

2006-10-12T23:14:00.000-07:00

First of all, THANKS A BUNCH to everyone who has participated thus far in the Nerd Word Championships!!!! [Check out the previous post for more information]

Y'all are the coolest homies EVER (for more complete and personal thanks, please see the comments section in the original nerd word post). This competition has gotten off to a fantastic start, but with two more days of nerd words left, it ain't over 'till it's over. I have heard, however, that the judge (a certain "Smokes" Nevins) has already selected some personal favorites (the choices may surprise you), but that could all change at any time. And, if you happen to see this individual before the judging takes place on Sunday, please behave like civilized nerds and don't resort to bribery. ;-)

Two quick things:

I admit I was rather shocked that no one (not even Matt & Rebekah, who have probably heard this more than anyone) brought up a certain nerd word frequently used by my father. It's my personal favorite. So, I'll provide it here for your Friday viewing pleasure:

"That's a doozy."

Oouuch!!!! Let the groans begin.

One more thing (slightly off topic):

I tried a new frappuccino at Starbucks this evening (as I'm on a quest to try them all), and had a rather frightful experience. They've recently begun offering a "maple" frappuccino--sounded good at first, and sadly I went for it.

I guess it's a bad sign when the person making your drink keeps glancing from you to the cup with looks of barely concealed confusion and pity. When he'd nearly finished, the barrista asked me with a strange grimace on his face, "Did you want the syrup on this?"

I instantly began to regret my choice. "Uh...have you tried it?" I asked tentatively.

"I guess it tastes a lot like the maple syrup you'd have on pancakes," he said slowly.

"Okay...no thanks," I replied, increasingly concerned as a curious smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He handed my drink to me slowly, and I made my way nervously to my seat.

Alas, my worst fears were justified. The best word to describe how it tasted is "burnt." Kind of like something you'd scrape off the bottom of an over-used waffle iron.

So there you have it. Your free Friday tip!

DO NOT BUY THE MAPLE FRAPPUCCINO AT STARBUCKS--UNLESS YOU LIKE YOUR WAFFLES WELL DONE, AND THINK THEY'D BE TASTY BLENDED WITH ICE.

Now, back to the competition.

Keep those nerd words coming, my brothas! I know there are many more...we've barely even touched on Star Wars at this point, and all Napoleon Dynamite references are still up for grabs.

Otherwise, have a totally rad Friday, and hope y'all get to hang and jus' be chillin' like a villain tonight!

The Nerd Word Championship

2006-10-11T20:57:00.000-07:00

Are you a nerd?

Deep down inside, beneath those sleek layers of suave sophistication, do you secretly hunger for bell-bottoms? For a mullet?

When you think no one's watching, do you attempt to bring back the long-lost days of your youth by pumping up the BeeGees, slicking back that side-parted hair, and discoing 'till the night is long?

Are you a home-schooler or some other outcast member of society (ha ha) and you find that whatever you say makes other people laugh (at you, not with you), and you just don't know why?

Do your kids/family members/friends persecute you for hanging on to archaic relics of the past in your speech/song/dress?

Or--do you simply have geeky or eclectic bursts of speech when you're snugly tucked away in your comfort zone?

If you answered "yes" to any of the above questions, this contest is for you.

Let me explain.

Today at work while engaged in some mindless, repetitive research, I heard some schmuck on the radio enthusiastically use the phrase "case closed" in a sales pitch. Suddenly, I snapped to attention. A vivid memory of my Dad firmly using this phrase at the end of a lecture popped into my mind, as he used to be mighty fond of using this phrase. However, he eventually realized that none of us could keep a straight face when he employed it. The impressive mood of doom created by his sermon was invariably lost, so the word was scrapped (mostly).

However, as soon as this memory popped into my mind it was followed by another image of him cheerily telling my mother (like a good husband should) that the food she'd prepared was "DEE-lish!!!!" (If you know my Dad at all, you've heard this word many a time.)

Some of his other classic phrases came to mind, causing me to laugh silently there at my desk, and gave birth to the following idea.

I use "nerd words" too, all the time--especially at home. Mine are the poser-ghetto type that are only used by cardboard characters in teen films trying to portray the tough life of some dawgs on the streets, y'all; or by wannabe hardcore homeschoolers: phrases such as "fo sho" or "true dat." Actually, I only use them because they make me laugh, but you get the point. The list goes on and on.

At any rate, I became immensely curious to know, sitting there in The Office--is my family the only one to use nerd words? It's not just me and my Dad--my brother Robbie has been mercilessly tormented many a time for saying the phrase "lookin' good in the neighborhood" to unsuspecting strangers.

So: here's the dealio. If you're kind enough to participate, I want to know what your nerd words are. Why? Well, I'm curious, and you never know what I might be able to incorporate into my vocabulary. Plus, it would just be darn fun to hear.

Thus:

The Nerd Word Championship

The Rules

Come post your nerd words/phrases in the form of a comment (up to 3 per person) as an entry in the official competition!

Definition of a Nerd Word by the HSN:

"Any phrase/sentence/pun/word that you use often/have heard often, that is either geeky, cheesy, old and outdated, original to your family/tribe, or simply strange."

E.G.: "Lookin' good in the neighborhood"

"Fo Sho"

"De-lish"

"Holi moli" [quite possibly coined by yours truly]

The Stakes

My Dad, legendary for his usage of nerd words, will--WITHOUT being told who each comment represents--choose the winning (and runner-up) nerdiest nerd word based on humor and the specifications above.

The Prize

Uh...a hug?

No, actually: the winner will be awarded the title of "National Nerd Word Champion" and will, if he/she is willing, be BRIEFLY interviewed for this blog by myself (through phone, email, or whatever is preferable).

Fair enough?

Now please don't leave me hangin' here, brothas. Don't be embarrassed to use them--this is a safe place, y'all!

Fo sho.

**Entries will be accepted through Saturday night

A Young Man's Quest: The FINAL Final Interview

2006-10-11T19:32:00.000-07:00

Well, well, well. I finally have the last piece of the puzzle! I finished typing up the second half of the follow-up interview with the Stoever family after the conclusion of Zach, Pastor Greg, and Mrs. Stoever's no-sugar fast. Whoopee!

In this concluding segment, I learned about the Stoever family's rather rocky encounter with "Splenda" and got to talk a bit with Tyler (8) as well. Thanks again to all the Stoevers for letting me document their travails and for some great chats!

A Young Man's Quest:
The FINAL Final Interview With The Parentals

...Continuing with Mrs. Stoever's account of what transpired when she accidentaly ingested some Nutella...

MRS: I felt the need to like rinse my mouth out! Get that terrible sugar out of there! But yes, what she says is true, but it was on my finger...

JORDAN: Shall we go to the sprinkle incident?

MRS: Oh yes, okay, there was one other incident. I don't count that as an infraction because I took the boys--well, here's why. You can count it as one if you want. BUT I took the boys, we walked to Safeway and I got Jordan and Tyler a donut, Zach and I didn't get anything because we couldn't. We got milk. Plain milk.

LRN: Ouch.

MRS: Pretty miserable.

ZACH: We were humiliated.

MRS: Tyler was sitting next to me--his donut had sprinkles on it and one fell off. And without thinking I licked my finger, and I went like this and I got it on my tongue and I went "Oh, I can't have it!" And I ripped it off and threw I it away.

LRN: Now that's passion and commitment right there. Ripping a sprinkle out of your mouth.

ZACH: You know what? We had sugar-free ice cream and it tasted just the same.

LRN: Did it have that Splenda stuff in it?

ZACH: Yes, it was delicious.

LRN: I used to sell that stuff all the time in very large amounts at Cold Stone to people who were on diets, and they would put Snickers and all that stuff with it.

MRS: That's kind of like getting whipped cream on your "lite" frappuccino.

LRN: Exactly.

MRS: You know--it wasn't worth it to me. If you're gonna have sweet, you do it. You just have the whole thing.

LRN: I totally agree.

JORDAN: The chocolate tasted like salt. It was the disgustingest--that's a word--disgustingest thing that I've ever tasted in my entire life--I advise you never to taste it.

MR: Hey, I think it needs to be said that--

JORDAN: Dad had two of them, by the way.

MR: That's not what I think needs to be said. What I think needs to be said is we did go out Friday night, and just kinda had a family fun night out--we went and played miniature golf. And then after that is when we were really feeling the itch for some bigtime dessert, you know--

ZACH: YOU were feeling the itch.

MR: --We were thinking B&R, we were thinking something like that, and I actually contemplated commanding my son Zach to eat ice cream that night, but my wife helped me not do that.

LRN: So y'all enjoyed Splenda.

MR: So we enjoyed "Splenda" ice cream bars. Lindsay enjoyed Ben & Jerry's--the real thing.

ZACH: Let me say for the record that the Splenda stuff tasted delicious.

MR: I didn't think it was that bad.

JORDAN: Oh, it was sick!

ZACH: I thought it was just as good--if not better--than the real stuff.

LRN: I don't believe that, but it's still nice that you're saying it.

MR: Well, when you compare that to like a full-blown, hardcore Dove bar, I mean, that's just different.

ZACH: I haven't had a Dove bar in who knows how long.

LRN: That could be one of your six treats this week!

JORDAN: It was sick. Let me just advise, one more time, never get near sugar-free stuff. That stuff with Splenda--have you ever had diet Coke with Splenda?

LRN: No.

JORDAN: I barfed after I drank that stuff.

LRN: Is that a true story? Do we have witnesses for this?

MR: Hmmm..well...I don't know about that...

MRS: Well, he spit it out.

LRN (to Tyler): Hey Ty, would you like to share anything? How do you think your family has done and Ty, what do you think about your Dad eating a donut on Friday?

MR: Hey--I confessed all that...

[Silence from Ty]

LRN: Ty?

TYLER: What.

LRN: Do you have anything you'd like to say about your Dad eating a donut on Friday?

TYLER: No.

MR: Thank you, buddy.

LRN: Would you like to extend any support to your brother for his self-control?

TYLER: No.

JORDAN: He was paid! He was paid!

LRN: Alright. Did you like the Splenda ice cream?

ZACH: He didn't eat it.

TYLER: I didn't eat it, because I wasn't hungry.

MR: He was having an attitude because we weren't going to Baskin Robbins.

TYLER: No, I wasn't!

JORDAN: He sat in the back and ate pretzels.

LRN: So, pretzels?

TYLER: Yes.

LRN: Good choice. Sounds like a fun night. So, are you officially off the fast now as well [to MRS]?

MRS: Lucy, tonight after dinner I had a very small dish of peppermint lite ice cream with hot fudge.

ZACH: She was on my break with me.

MRS: That was my only break. But now I'm back on. Not for really noble reasons--just because--

ZACH: Because I'm doing it and she wants to be like me.

MRS: --Because I want to support my son.

LRN: That's very nice of you.

ZACH: Thanks, Mom!

MRS: That's the noble reason--the in-noble reason is that if I say yes to something, then I'll just keep saying yes. Because you know you can justify...

MR: But you can eat with moderation.

ZACH: After the chocolate fountain, it was all over.

MRS: But I'm like, "Shoot, I ate ice cream tonight, so let's just grab a few M&M's too."

LRN: Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Have either of you guys noticed any benefit for yourself, like energy, you sleep better at night...feel better about yourself...

MRS: I slept really good, until I dreamed that Greg deposited 1.8 times 10 to the 9th dollars in his checking account, and wrote a check to somebody else for it and wouldn't tell me who he wrote it to...I think it was 1.8 billion dollars.

LRN: Woah--that's scary!

MR: I didn't notice that much of a dramatic difference with anything--I did notice a difference in Zach. For instance, last night after he had gone to bed at one point when everyone else was asleep except me--I was reading in my bed--he came in to our bedroom (this is maybe a half-hour or so after his lights had been out), he came into our bedroom to ask if I knew that Jordan was taking a shower out in our front yard.

LRN: What?! Are you serious?

MR: He came in to ask me about that, and I simply said, "Zach, yes, I'm aware of it, I'm gonna deal with it." And Zach said, "Okay, great." And then he said, "I guess I'll go back to bed."

LRN: Are you serious? That's great!

MRS: He wasn't thinking he was, but he really said that, yeah.

LRN: So was that a sleep-walking incident?

ZACH: Yeah, I guess.

MR: Zach's probably the most prone to that kind of thing, he's had some pretty interesting expressions.

ZACH: Sleepwalkers unite!

LRN: Sounds like you guys did really well for the most part, but thanks for your time and congratulations!

JORDAN: Amen, sister Luce, amen!

THANKS AGAIN STOEVER FAMILY

**Editor's Note: Though I have been inspired by the SUCCESSFUL accounts of fasting that occured in the Stoever family, the end result of typing out this interview has been that I can't seem to get gen-u-ine non-Splenda peppermint ice cream with fudge sauce off my mind.

Anyone down for some Cold Stone?

A Young Man's Quest Pt. 6: The Final Interview with the Parentals

2006-10-08T23:01:00.000-07:00

Today I finally get to post most of the great follow-up interview with Zach's parents, who also joined him on his week-long no-sugar fast. However, before I begin, some pictures from the family's trek to the pumpkin patch today to pick out pumpkins for carving. Bear with me!

This was our second annual trip to Dave's Pumpkin Patch, as we just recently discovered the joy of Jack-O-Lanterns. Can't wait to dig into those pumpkins!

My great folks

Tim actually pulled these three whoppers along for some feet! What a man.

I love those cute little pumpkins (and the fact that this picture doesn't show how badly I NEED A TAN!)

The hilarious thing about this great little dog is that for whatever reason we all thought his name was "David" (I think Steve perpetuated the myth), and right before we left were informed that it's actually "Bear." Which explains why he was having such troubles coming when we called him, but at least Andy got him to run along for a bit.

All the "Nevii"/Abbey Road: A Tribute

Thanks for wading through all of those. What can I say? It was a great trip.

And now: the follow-up...

Interview With The Parentals

I have to post the second half of this interview tomorrow, because it was rather longish and I haven't finished typing it up. It's also more readable this way, I think. So, the first half, which primarily involves Zach's Dad (Mr. Stoever) providing a detailed account of why on a no-sugar fast he partook of a donut and cookies! Bear in mind that throughout this interview, there was nearly continual laughter from all parties (the kids got involved as well), and barbs being flung from all sides (not all of which I was able to transcribe). I have to say this was my favorite interview in the whole series. Enjoy and Pt.2 will come tomorrow!

LRN: So how are you two doing as of 9 days?

MR: Doing really good, Lucy, good to see you.

MRS: Doing great!

MR: You know, I want to just say at the outset here that it’s important document this, for the sake of our readers and those who may be looking at this—as a father, as a husband, as the head of the household, there’s a certain amount of harassment and misinformation that gets communicated regarding me, my role and my responsibilities: anything that may be said by others regarding me and how well I’ve done with things is strictly to be disregarded.

JORDAN: Like what—you mean about you eating the donut?

MR: There’s no way of—

MRS: The plain donut, what are we talking about, the plain donut?

MR: There’s no way—

JORDAN: Yesterday he ate three cookies!

ZACH: You forgot about the cookies!

MR: There’s no way of substantiating—there’s no way of substantiating the credibility of anybody you may be hearing this from. You just have to take that into account. This is the harassment and persecution that comes with being the head of a household.

JORDAN: He also went to L.A. and ate cake and cookies in L.A.

LRN: As a Pastor, Pastor Greg, can I have the truth here, please?

MR: Alright, here’s the stuff. First of all, I’m sure that you in writing this and anybody who may be reading this, can look back upon all the previous posts regarding my involvement and how my involvement came to be. My involvement was basically a reaction to the coercion from my family to be a part of this.

MRS: So you were marshmallowed!

[Pandemonium ensues]

MR: Wait wait wait—so, you know…my wife was there when I said okay, I’m in, I’m there—I said that, right?

LRN: Yes, you did! You said you ‘committed’.

MR: Now, that was a Monday night, September 24th, I believe it was. And I was eating a bowl of cereal and that was my last bowl of cereal up to that point—or—you know what that means. But anyway, I did great the whole week. And then came Friday morning. Friday morning—

LRN: But that’s not a whole week.

MR: Well, no, just hear me out, okay? Friday morning I went in to work, I was really hungry; I’d had a little bit of food here but I was still hungry. I didn’t know what to get. I didn’t want to stop and buy a burrito, or anything like that, so, in a very calculated way, I bought a plain, old-fashioned donut. Plain, meaning that it didn’t have any sugar on it. Now, I fully understand it had sugar in it, okay? But that was calculated, I was hungry, I had things to do all day, I needed energy. So, I did that--that was the least expensive, most reasonable thing, short of buying like a big fat bagle...But anyway, I did that. Well then, in my office, I went to the refrigerator to get some juice, and there was a gallon jar of juice...

[All the while, the other Stoevers are snickering at this lengthy explanation.]

MR: Now I didn't realize--I didn't think about it until I was pouring it that, you know what? This probably doesn't fit as a natural sugar.

LRN: That's correct.

MR: But I already had the crushed ice in the glass, and the juice was already starting to be poured over it, and I was really thirsty, and I knew it was going to give me energy for the day so I--so I drank that glass. So that's what happened on Friday. And I acknowledged that to my family, right?

LRN: How did you feel after this?

MR: I felt pretty good! Now, Saturday, Saturday's a different story. And I'm just laying it out here--Saturday I had a meeting--

MRS: Sounds like justification.

MR: I'm just explaining!

JORDAN: Taking away guilt?

LRN: I appreciate the honesty. I do.

MR: Thank you. I know you would. So thank you.

ZACH: We appreciate it too.

MR: So Saturday I had a meeting down in Southern California that I had to fly down for in the morning, and I flew back that night. And the meeting began at lunchtime, with lunch, and then the board meeting (it was for a board of this ministry that I'm a part of) followed that. Well, after lunch, on the table, around the table where we had the board meeting, there were cookies. Now, here's what you have to understand: you've got to put this all in context; anybody reading this please read the whole thing before you make any judgments at all. I was there, I was among other men, I was there part of the board meeting, I ate the lunch (which was just a roast beef sandwhich, macaroni, whatever. You know, potato salad and all.). But these cookies were there, and there was coffee that was there, and cookies and coffee are really good together...and so throughout the afternoon I had a total of 2 1/2 cookies. I will say, they were fairly good sized coookies, okay? But what you need to understand--no here's the thing, and this is the honest admission--just because of the mental, spiritual attention that I had to give to the tasks that were at hand I didn't even remotely think about or remember anything about the sugar fast. so this abberation on Saturday was not a calculated, wilful diversion.

LRN: Like the donuts?

MR: Well, yeah, that was a little calculated...but I totally didn't even think it that until I got home that night and my family reminded me.

LRN: I'm sure they did.

MR: And I think I actually did pay for it because I stayed up 'till about 3:30 Sunday morning because I had too much caffeine, plus we had neighbors who were partying, and it was loud, and so I was--I didn't sleep.

MRS: Now Sunday...

LRN: Was that the last infraction, or was there more?

MRS [to Mr.]: Sunday you were good. In fact, it should be noted that Sunday I served my chocolate chip cookies, and Stella was here, Daniel was here...and you did not eat one.

MR: Right! Well, and the other part of this to understand is that--

MRS: Did you have any cream puffs last night?

MR: No, no I didn't have any cream puffs...no wait! It should be noted, too: last Monday after we set this thing up, after you left the house, Laurie privately said to me, "Greg, Fridays and Saturdays are free."

MRS: I did not!!! Such a liar!

[Everyone begins bellowing]

MR: Okay, she didn't really say that. I'm sorry.

LRN: Okay, so yesterday.

MR: Okay, so Monday. This is the one week mark, right?...Here's what happened. Up until Monday afternoon, I was doing fine.

JORDAN: Except for Friday and Saturday.

MR: Well, that's acknowledged. We were doing a family work project on Monday of chopping wood, and we went and rented a hydraulic, gas-powered log splitter. That's a very intense machine. So anyway, I won't go into all the details, but the bottom line is that I almost had my middle finger crushed off. In a very serious injury, with my wife at the controls I might add.

MRS: You might add that if I would have gone down instead of up it would have been crushed off.

MR: It would have crushed my finger. My finger got crushed between the bottom of the log, and the bottom of the wood-splitter, as the metal wedge was going down. And once I screamed--and it was very intense--if she would not have instantly lifted up, it would have been crushed. It really was pretty scary.

LRN: My gosh! Holi moli! Does it still hurt?

MR: Oh yeah. You can see there it's a little swollen, a little colored and numb, that was it. So, anyway, I wanted to keep working but I had to stop--I iced my finger for a while and kept working, and I was concerned that maybe it would have been crushed, and maybe some bones broken, so I called the advice nurse at the hospital...I explained what had gone on, he asked more questions, he told me that, "Listen. Just take some motrin, try to ice it for 10, 15 minutes or whatever," and then the advice nurse said to me, "Listen, if you've got any chocolate chip cookies in the house, eat three or four of them. And you'll feel better. So that was professional medical advice that was given to me, so, in the midst of my injury, I think I had three chocolate chip cookies.

LRN: That's okay. That's perfectly acceptable. That's just fine.

MRS: And I was an accomplice in that, because I fed him the cookies.

LRN: That's okay.

MR: I've confessed my sin.

LRN: So are you off the fast as of now, now that your week is up?

MR: Yes. We've sort of recalibrated and we came up with a basic plan that's somewhat personalized for everybody.

LRN: Six treats a week?

MR: Yeah. Moderation, Lucy, it's all about moderation.

LRN: Sounds good. You know, you're not the only one who committed an infraction, from what I hear, and I'd like to turn to Lindsay, to provide the account of what happened with the Nutella on Sunday, and then I'll give your mom a chance to talk about it.

LINDSAY: Well, Mom was making toast for me on Sunday morning, and I wanted Nutella...

MRS: I was making toast for her. Notice the kindness and motherly act there.

LINDSAY: And she took out the knife, and she put Nutella on it, and she licked the knife.

MRS: No, I didn't lick the knife.

LINDSAY: Or she started to lick the knife. Her finger or something had Nutella on it. And then she kinda freaked out because she realized what she was doing.

LRN: I hear from her that you persecuted her at length about this?

LINDSAY: I did.

LRN [to Mrs.]: Would you like to share anything about this?

MRS: It was a very small amount.

...Tomorrow: The Final Interview with the Parentals, Pt.2

Editor's Note: I had to temporarily delete my previous post because it kept coming up as the most recent post even after I published this. Why? Well, I've been working on typing this out since Sunday, and the SF post came afterward. So all of that to explain why it is gone and why, if the date and time on this post shows Sunday evening, it is being published at 12:01 a.m. TUESDAY MORNING AND I'M 'BOUT TO DIE.

Good night.

A Young Man's Quest Pt. 5: Final Thoughts From The Zach

2006-10-08T22:05:00.000-07:00

At long last, The Zach's follow-up post-fast interview! And additional commentary from Lindsay and Jordan!

Now, before we begin, an update:

It's been nearly a week since this interview took place at the 9 day mark of Zach's no-sugar quest. And since then, as I was informed today, with the exception of one or two minor "breaks," The Zach has continued the fast and plans to do so throughout the remainder of this week. Major props to Zach for not only finishing strong but also extending the length of his torment. And thank you again, my friend, for letting my quiz you throughout the first week! I've been inspired by the self-discipline I've witnessed, and though I have no plans to engage in torture of this kind anytime soon, I hope to follow Zach's example in general as far as completing goals and those sorts of things go. Thank you again Zach!

Okay, now for the good stuff: commentary from The Man Himself. The final Interview With The Parentals will be up tomorrow, if all goes well.

A Young Man's Quest Pt. 5
Final Thoughts from The Zach

LRN: So how are you doing today, Zach, as of day 8? Day 9?

ZS: Day 9, sort of. There was a break—a little break.

LRN: Tell me about this!

ZS: I rewarded myself for finishing the week.

LRN: Oh, that’s nice. What was it?

ZS: Ice cream and candy corn.

LRN: To make up for all the stuff you sling-shotted at the fence?

ZS: Yes—I didn’t make up for all of it.

LRN: So have you started another week all over again then? Today?

ZS: Yeah, tonight.

LRN: How long would you like to go this time?

ZS: I don’t know…another week…and then another reward…and then another week…

LRN: So how would you say the experience was overall? Was it as good as you expected, or did it give you what you hoped? Yes?

ZS: Yes, it did give me what I hoped…I don’t really want any sugar anymore, and when I had the candy corn I felt sick afterwards. And…um…um…I’m not very hungry for anything.

LRN: Good! Do you feel like your energy level has gone up at all as a result of not having sugar? Can you see any other benefits at all?

ZS: That I don’t want sugar anymore!

LRN: How would you say your experience was with support from your siblings?

ZS: Um…It was fine with Tyler, Lindsay was okay, and, yeah. Jordan was…Jordan.

LRN: I think we all know what that means by now. So Zach, would you recommend a no-sugar fast to any person who might be reading this?

ZS: It depends. If you’re not eating a lot of sugar anyway, then it’s probably not necessarily necessary. But if you’re a junk food person, then, yes: I would recommend it.

LRN: Do you have any tips that you could pass on of things [dieters] should or should not do?

ZS: You shouldn’t keep sugar around yourself. And, I don’t know. I didn’t eat bread, but maybe you could eat bread.

LRN: You think that might help it be a little easier?

ZS: Yes, ‘cause then you’re eating sugar, so it doesn’t seem like that much difference.

LRN: Well, thank you very much. Congratulations!

At the conclusion of this conversation with Zach, I then turned to his siblings Jordan and Lindsay, who were first-hand witnesses of his daily struggles. As always, with no lack of comments from Jordan in particular (heehee), the Q&A was highly informative.

A Young Man's Quest:
The Brotha and The Sista Speak--Out One Last Time

LRN: So how do you guys feel that your brother has done over the past nine days, with a break?

LINDSAY: I think he’s done good.

JORDAN: I think he’s done good, but there’s some times that you just gotta get something in your body, and I think he’s had a lack of sugar so it’s kind of affecting him. We talked about that on our last interview, I think.

LRN: Yes, and we also had a little—

JORDAN: Hey! Can I finish this?

LRN: Yes.

JORDAN: Thank you, Lucy. So anyway, I think it’s just been affecting him, and I was really glad Monday when he decided to kind of reward himself for doing it a week and eating some candy corn. Did he tell you about that?

LRN: Yes, he told me about that.

JORDAN: Okay, good. Just trying to keep my brother honest.

LRN: Good. Did you partake with your brother in his little feast?

JORDAN: Yeah, I did.

LRN: Now, Lindsay, let’s hear from you for a minute. How do you think your brother did?

LINDSAY: He did great.

JORDAN: Hey—whoah—“did”? He’s still doing it!

LINDSAY: He’s changed a little bit.

JORDAN: He has changed. I mean, after he’s had no sugar for a long time, man, he’s really changed. So, I don’t know man, but he’s been acting kinda weird lately...[lowers his voice]

LRN: You can expand on that. This is a “safe place.”

JORDAN [whispering]: I think he’s having withdrawals.

LRN: What symptoms are you seeing that would lead you to this conclusion?

JORDAN: He’s going to bed really early, getting up really early…

LRN: You know what they say, right? “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise?” How do you feel about that?

JORDAN: I don’t know…he might be healthy, but he’s not wise.

LRN: Last time we had a little tension regarding whether or not you were supporting your brother, so I’m not gonna ask you specifically for what you’ve been doing, I’ll just let you explain to me, okay? Just go for it. Just talk to me about it.

JORDAN: About what?

LRN: About your relationship with your brother over this past week.

JORDAN: It’s the same, why would it change?

LRN: Lindsay, I’ll ask you. How would you say your relationship with your brother has been, has it upheld throughout the stress of his quest? Have you been there at his side?

LINDSAY: Part of it.

JORDAN: Yeah, right.

LINDSAY: He’s gained more patience…

LRN: Good! That’s always a good benefit. Has his success inspired you guys to want to try this yourself?

LINDSAY: Well, Dad said that yesterday we all had to come up with something to do for this week.

LRN: Like a fast type of thing?

LINDSAY: Kind of. He said we had to do six treats a week or something.

JORDAN: No, actually what it is: a no-sugar diet, five treats a week, and cereal and cookies are not counted as treats.

LRN: That’s helpful, ‘cause I know you couldn’t live without cereal, right?

JORDAN: No way.

LRN: I understand…Lindsay, is there anything you’d like to say, like words of encouragement or praise for your brother?

LINDSAY: He did a good job.

JORDAN: He did do a good job.

LRN: I’m glad you think so. Thanks you guys!

Thanks a bundle, O.J. and Linds, for taking the time to talk with me again.

And please tune in tomorrow for the final interview in the Young Man's Quest series: follow-up commentary from two other dieters, The Zach's parents: Mr. and Mrs. Stoever!

Birthday Tips

2006-10-07T17:10:00.000-07:00

Today is my brotha Tim's 4th Birthday. Tomorrow I hope to post the great conclusion to the Young Man's Quest series, but today is Tim's day.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Alas, Tim followed the course of most little people and initially rejected some of his gifts (most small ones end up more interested in the packaging then the actual gift itself), including the flippin' sweet Ninja costume Robbie got him.

I didn't know Ninjas usually sported this type of eyewear, but you learn something new every day.

At first the bathrobe I gave him got the shaft, but that changed soon enough.

Now that the gifts are opened, Tim is armed for every form of violence, with plastic numb chucks, swords, and other formidable weapons. Pretty scary stuff, dude.

Do not mess with this man!

Now, because this young gentleman is so special, and because 4 is a big event, some...

BIRTHDAY TIPS

To: Tim

From: Lucy

1. Tim, always remember that, as a new Big Kid, you have a lot of power. School and books are just around the corner, and with the swift passage of time soon you'll be big enough to take even Robbie down. Use your power for good.

2. When you're at a partay and breaking out the dance moves for the ladies, please do not copy Stevie. He is a great guy and I know you look up to him as your older brotha, but you weren't around in the old days when Steve was smaller than you and he tried to impress guests by "dancing" on the table in the back yard. All I can say is there's a reason the word "stripper" is banned from his vocabulary. And even now, he's got some good moves, but he's not ghetto. He'd like you to think he is, but he's not.

3. No matter what anyone tells you, home-schoolers rock.

4. Don't let Robbie, Andy, Dan and Steve pick on you too much. Just remember that when they were your age, they were still clad in nerdy whitie-tighties. You, my friend, have already graduated to Spider Man and Batman unmentionables. And that's a big step.

5. Keep your forgiving spirit. I'll never forget that you forgave me even after those early days when I used to crawl around after you and pick on you. I'll always try to remember that when I'm the only one laughing, it's not funny. And Tim, withholding hugs from people like me is a great way to teach us that crime doesn't pay.

6. You may be a junior-size Ninja at this point, but that doesn't matter. A very cool person recently passed some info on to me that stated that smaller Ninjas, like you (called "Minjas"), can be even more deadly than the big guys. So stay strong and keep working on those numb chucks!

7. As you get older, you'll begin to develop your own sense of humor. You may already have heard rumors that certain unnamed members of our family have a rather strange sense of humor. Alas, those rumors are true. Furthermore, there are some whose identifying mark is that they are "Punsters." I will not expound on the merits (or lack thereof) of a pun. That is for you to decide. But know that being a punster, though providing you with some level of fame and notoriety, requires great courage in the face of persecution, especially at RCG and in our home. So think carefully before you join their ranks.

8. If ANYONE ever tries to hurt you, if there's anything left of them after Robbie and Andy have had some time with them, pass them on to me. I've got moves you've never seen--remember, I used to be able to take Stevie out. You just send them my way, okay?

9. Ellie-Belly is a great girl with an awesome family. Don't let a girl like that go easily! They're few and far between. And, as anyone will tell you, behind every great man is a greater woman.

10. When people ask you about your mullet or pick on you, don't listen. They're just jealous because they know they couldn't rock it like you do.

11. It's not about how you look or what you can do anyway, because the world is full of good-lookin' guys with cool skills. But seek the Lord and as a godly guy and a gentleman, you will stand out like a light in every crowd.

12. Always know that you are one of the greatest things that has ever happened to any of us. You may get picked on a lot in this crazy place full of weird tall people, and you may also as the youngest get unprecedented amounts of trips to McDonald's and the like. Just know that you are The Man--one of the most wonderful small people in the world.

We love you, Tim.

The Mullet Chronicles, Pt. 3/ Amy's Car Wash

2006-10-03T21:10:00.000-07:00

I just returned from a great interview with the Stoever family to close out the Young Man's Quest chronicles. However, before I can post the many testimonies I obtained addressing the week-long sugar fast as a whole, brief attention must be drawn to two other matters:

It appears that the time has come again for my monthly photo update of Tim's growing mullet. For those who may not know, I decided after a vote on this blog and with the consent of my parentals, to begin cultivating a mullet on my honorable 3-year old brother Tim.

Why? Well, my sister Emma had recently abandoned her mullet and gone for a more classic look, and in this family with two trailers and snakes and guns and the like, it was only appropriate that at least one of us had a mullet. Plus, I've always had a rather horrified fascination with the do, and thought that it just might be my brother Tim who would be the first person (excepting Mel Gibson) who would make the mullet look good.

Thus, his first styled trim, and the Mullet Chronicles.

Part 3

Here's a decent view of how the mullet's growing in. It's been a somewhat slow and laborious process, but I am confident that before long he will sport a full-fledged, world class mullet worthy of even The Mel. By the way, these photos keep chopping off his noggin because he basically refused to stand still for even a moment, so I was dashing around snapping wildly as he spazzed about, as small boys are wont to do.

The Young Monk

In the following photo, I asked Tim how he was feeling about having a mullet. For the first time in this entire adventure, it appears his morale is running low. He responded, "Not good." So, I asked him to express his feelings about the mullet for the camera, and this is what I got:

Sad, huh?

This is the point at which the Mullet Bearer began to attack the photographer, signaling the end of the session.

However, some good news: I've rather shamelessly promoted Tim's mullet and told many people about it, but a few weeks ago was the first time someone actually identified the hairdo without me pointing it out. A friend came up to me at church and asked if I was responsible for Tim's mullet--all I can say is that it was a beautiful moment. Quite rewarding.

We'll see how everything looks next month, and if Tim is still down for sporting this look!

On another note, a bit of advertising:

My 11 year old sister Amy requested that she be able to wash my car for me today. I'd nearly forgotten about her business endeavor! Amy recently decided to go into the car-washing field to try to make a buck, so of course I employed her services for my vehicle. I don't mind washing it, but I'm all about supporting the small businessman and local burgeoning economic ventures.

And, the service was great! My car was sparkling clean shortly, tidied up inside and out.

So, if you live in Sac and especially if you attend RCG, please don't hesitate to call Amy's Car Wash if you would like assistance with a dirty vehicle. The going rate is $10 for a wash and vacuum, and I can vouch for the excellent quality of the care. You RCGers have the number--she would gladly spiff up your ride.

Coming soon:
The Conclusion of A Young Man's Quest
Zach, Mr. and Mrs., Jordan, Lindsay and Tyler all discuss the week long fast

A Young Man's Quest Pt. 4

2006-10-02T19:36:00.000-07:00

Well, I finally get to post last week's mid-fast update from The Zach and his siblings. A number of setbacks prevented an earlier posting, not the least of which was a terrible scare yesterday afternoon when it appeared I had lost the tape which contained all the interviews. After a number of futile frantic searches, I briefly debated offering up a large carrot cake as reward to get my siblings on the hunt (har har), but decided to go with a cash prize in the end. Thankfully it worked, and my brother Dan soon turned up the tape--which had of course been sitting in a very prominent place the entire time. My family would probably have a lot to say about the many occasions when I've panicked and thought I've lost something, but I'll leave that up to them.

Also, before I begin: I would like to extend special congratulations to my 6 year old little sis Emma (a.k.a. Peggy), who after weeks of patient waiting finally pulled out the tooth that has been wobbling and tormenting her so long. This is the third tooth she's lost, but the first front tooth, so it's a big deal. I was in the house yesterday when she was out and about with my brother, and at her return I heard a soft knocking on the door. I opened, looked down, and--lo and behold, there was Peggy standing proudly, sporting a huge grin marked by a large gap, a bloody tooth displayed proudly in her extended hand.

Trying unsuccessfully to hide from the paparazzi

Congratulations Peggy!!!

Alright, on with it.

Tomorrow I have Zach's final interview scheduled, but here are Zach, Jordan, and Lindsay's perspectives halfway through his endeavor--beginning with The Man Himself:

Midweek Thoughts from The Zach

LRN: So tell me about the first three days of the fast.

ZS: It's gone well.

LRN: Can you expand on that a little?

ZS: Um...I haven't eaten any sugar...and haven't really wanted any sugar...

LRN: Really?

ZS: Uh, well, actually I have I guess. Sometimes.

LRN: When your family's eating cereal?

ZS: They haven't eaten cereal actually!

LRN: Nobody?

ZS: No...Jordan actually did once, I think.

LRN: I figured. Has Jordan been persecuting you at all?

ZS: Yeah, some.

LRN: What did he do?

ZS: Held candy in my face.

LRN: So have you been seeing any negative side effects, like mental instability, tendency to lash out at strangers, anything like that?

ZS: Not really.

LRN: It's all good?

ZS: There was an incident this morning, but we won't go there.

LRN: How are your parents doing? Are they still holding fast?

ZS: Yep...they're not as intense as I am about it.

LRN: How are you more intense than them?

ZS: They're eating bread and stuff like that.

LRN: What have you mostly had to eat so far?

ZS: Wheat bread 'cause it doesn't have sugar in it. And meat, and eggs.

LRN: Sweet.

ZS: No. It's not sweet.

LRN: So are you confident that you can finish the week strong?

ZS: Yeah!

LRN: Do you want to go longer?

ZS: Yep.

Thanks for another interview Zach!

We'll see tomorrow if The Zach still thinks extending the fast is a good idea. But first--The Brotha and the Sista Speak Out--revealing what has really gone on during their brother's quest, addressing again the family's passion for cereal, and revealing why there is candy corn embedded in the Stoever's fence and littering their backyard.

The Brotha and the Sista Speak Out, Pt. 2
Personal Testimony from Jordan (12) and Lindsay (15)

First I met up with Jordan, who provided some fascinating information. He did take me to task for asking some loaded questions, as you shall see, and kept me laughing the entire time, so I am very grateful for this interview.

JORDAN: Are we on?

LRN: We're on.

JORDAN: We're on? Okay.

LRN: So, last time I thought the interview went really well, so thanks again for joining us.

JORDAN: Sure. I liked it too. It was fun.

LRN: So tell me what you've observed in your brother over the past few days. How would you say he's doing?

JORDAN: Not that good. Yesterday he flipped off his bike while riding--I think we talked about that--and today on the bike ride we went on to the library he seemed really slow and lousy, and he was told to lead, and he was pretty lousy, you know; going really slow, falling back, or going too fast. And I think that he's starting to get addicted.

LRN: To what?

JORDAN: To no sugar. It's kind of sad 'cause he's like totally...you know, it's not good. Not good at all.

LRN: That's too bad. Do you see him behaving in a different way at all towards you guys? Is there any resentment when he sees you eating cereal really loud?

JORDAN: He gets pretty mad, and the last couple of days he's been taking cupfuls of candy and taking his slingshot and shooting them at our fence.

LRN: Are you serious?

JORDAN: Yes, so we've got candy corn and M&M's all over our yard.

LRN: This is a true story?

JORDAN: Yes, and he took the last of the pumpkins, candy corn pumpkins, shot them all at the wall, broke them. And then he shot at our picnic table, and right now it's like a hundred different colors from all the different M&M's.

LRN: I didn't know there were a hundred M&M colors.

JORDAN: You can specially order M&M's if you want to, but he didn't specially order M&M's. I mean, there's like a hundred different marks, not a hundred different colors. Let's not get too specifiz--spezif--specific. Sorry. I think it's affecting me.

LRN: Well Jordan, how have you behaved? Have you been being kind, and considerate of your brother, as far as what you eat in front of him, or are you rubbing it in his face?

JORDAN: That's not a fair question. I'll eat what I want, when I want. I'm not gonna rub it in his face, but I'm not gonna not rub it in his face.

LRN: I see exactly what you mean.

JORDAN: You asked me that same thing last night and I told you the same answer.

LRN: Okay, whatever, bro.

JORDAN: No, I'm not going on this side thing, 'cause I like cereal!

LRN: Chill.

JORDAN: Cereal has sugar!

LRN: Chill pill!

JORDAN: That probably has sugar too.

LRN: Okay, so what you're saying is your life pretty much is not changing at all 'cause of your brother? You just do your thang?

JORDAN: You didn't ask me that. You asked me if it was affecting me, and if I was gonna rub it in his face. You didn't ask me if it was affecting me. It's not---okay, no, no, no. Okay, he has kind of been waking up on the wrong side of the bed because of this sugar thing, okay? Since it started, I mean, no. That's not cool. Not cool.

LRN: I understand what you mean.

JORDAN: So yes, it is affecting me. If you asked me that question earlier I would have answered the same thing, but you never gave me time to answer.

LRN: Gotcha. Are you noticing any positive benefits for your brother of him doing this to himself?

JORDAN: More food for me!

LRN: Thanks, Jordan for your time. I'll be talking to you again on Sunday.

JORDAN: Thanks, Lucy. Remember, I like cereal.

And so it went down. I just can't help feeling sad for all that corn candy that went to waste...

Next up: The Sista!
Leave it to Lindsay to provide a solid, concise account.

LRN: So how do you think your brother is doing in his struggle?

LINDSAY: He's definitely having sugar withdrawals.

LRN: How are you seeing this demonstrated?

LINDSAY: He's like, walking through the house saying he can't have sugar, and shooting candy corn with his--whatever that thing is called. His slingshot.

LRN: That's great. Your brother is telling me there's like one hundred M&M colors embedded in your picnic table?

LINDSAY: I don't know. I haven't seen them.

LRN: Did you notice candy corn embedded in your fence or anything like that?

LINDSAY: Yeah.

LRN: It's pretty scary!

LINDSAY: Yes.

LRN: Is he like lashing out in violence at any humans at all?

LINDSAY: I don't know if he did today or not--I was at work, so, I don't know. He didn't yesterday.

LRN: Have you seen any positive impact on your brother during this time period?

LINDSAY: Um...He's been a little more quiet, but that's...

LRN: That's a good thing though.

LINDSAY: Yes.

LRN: I understand. And just one final question: are you helping your brother during this time?

LINDSAY: Yes, a lot more than Jordan is.

LRN: So you're not eating your cereal in front of him.

LINDSAY: No.

LRN: That's very kind. Well, thanks for your time Lindsay!

Thanks again to all the Great Stoevers for taking the time to answer my questions!

I look forward to quizzing them again tomorrow evening to see how The Zach and The Parents managed during the home stretch of their quest. I did hear some rumors at church yesterday morning of a brief Nutella encounter that threatened the integrity of one person's entire mission, but I'll save that for tomorrow.

See you then!

A Young Man's Quest Pt. 3

2006-09-29T21:45:00.000-07:00

At last...

A Young Man's Quest Pt.3

A Parental Perspective: And the Movement Spreads

On Monday when I drilled The Zach, Lindsay and Jordan regarding The Zach's sugar fast, his wonderful parents, Mr. and Mrs. Stoever, were also kind enough to sit down with me and share their thoughts about their son's endeavor. The following interview was very informative--revealing the growth of a familial no-sugar movement, as well as once again displaying the great passion for cereal that nearly every member of the Great Stoever Family holds fast.

The Parentals Themselves:

LRN: Thanks you guys for joining us tonight.

MR: Our pleasure.

MRS: Anytime, Lucy.

LRN: My first question is: why are you not joining your devoted son in his endeavor?

MRS: Actually, I am!

LRN: You are?

MRS: He asked me to, and I said yes.

LRN: Well, that's honorable. That's very nice.

MR: He didn't ask me to, so I actually didn't know he was doing it 'till after he had already started doing it. So...I think I eat a fairly moderate diet, too. Not that he's way out of wack--you know, I have a little sugar here and there...

LRN: But you don't feel like you need to reform or anything like that?

MR: No. My wife agrees, I think, don't you?

[Long silence...]

[Laugther...]

LRN: Interesting!

MRS: So we're probably 25 hours into this thing!

MR: Did you start yesterday?

MRS: Last night--if you count last night while we slept...

MR: Well, he [Zach] definately didn't start this weekend.

LRN: He did have ice cream at my house last night--whatever he says to you guys.

MRS: He said he had ice cream. Did he tell you about the chocolate fountain?

MR: We even have that documented. We could get you a picture of the chocolate fountain.

And here it is in all its glory [enjoyed at a family gathering the previous Saturday]:

LRN (to Mrs. Stoever): Tell me about your first day on the diet. How has it gone for you so far?

MRS: Well, overall pretty good...Very tempting to want to eat something that has sugar in it...

LRN: Like your husband's cereal that he was eating?

MRS: Yeah, but I had a glass of milk instead. But I did have coffee with sugar-free chocolate in it!

LRN: Doesn't sound very good...was it?

MRS: Yeah, just like a mocha! It worked.

LRN: Well, I'm glad. Are you planning on supporting your son in his endeavor, or are you going to undermine him?

MR: Totally. No, I'll support him in it. I'll be eager to support him. I don't even know how long he's doing it for.

MRS (to Mr.): How are you going to support him? Are you doing it with him?

MR: Well, he didn't ask me! He didn't ask me to do it with him! I've never been invited to be a part of the process.

MRS: Well, honey, let's just go on record: I'll invite you now. Would you like to do it with us?

MR: How long?

MRS: For a week.

MR: For a week? What have I got going on this week...

LRN: You can have natural sugars, from what Zach said--you can have fruit.

MR: Natural sugars, like, what a white- chocolate iced mocha? Would that be natural?

MRS [laughing]: That's not really natural. Like an Asian pear or an apple.

MR: Um...I can do it...I'll do it. Okay, the gauntlet's been thrown down.

LRN: So now Pastor Greg is committing!

MR: I'm in. I'm in. I just had my cereal.

MRS: Okay, so now we have three! So who's gonna join us? Lucy, would you like to join us?

LRN: No thanks, but I'll chronicle it.

MR: Can I eat cereal? Can I eat cereal?

[Zach bellows from other room: "NOO!"]

LRN: There has to be sugar-free cereal!

MRS: Some is in the cupboard!

[Jordan hollers from other room: "I would join if I could eat cereal!"]

LRN: So, do you guys feel proud of your son for showing self-discipline, you know, when most kids his age aren't? He's trying to do something good with his life and make a man of himself?

MR: We do see that. And we are proud of him. And we see that self-discipline exhibiting itself in other areas of his life too. And for some people, that kind of an orientation comes naturally--I mean, it's just kind of a part of their personality or temperment, for other people it doesn't. For Zach, it's a little bit more of a concentrated effort, so, yeah, we are proud of him. 'Cause we see the work of the grace of God at work in him.

LRN: Do you guys think that you might start a social movement for non-sugar diets in this region?

MRS: No, are you kidding? I think we might celebrate after a week!

LRN: That sounds like a good idea to me!

MR: No, we like sugar. But, we realize that there's negative impacts, but moderation: that's the key.

LRN: Are you worried about any negative impacts of not having sugar? Like, mentally being more distressed or emotionally imbalanced at all?

MRS: For me? No...

LRN: Either one of you.

MR: No, I don't think so. 'Cause I don't think our intake is that over-the-top, normally, is it?

LRN: No, but if I don't have any in a morning it's harder to be positive.

MRS: I know! You lack! You lack! You go through withdrawal.

MR: If you don't have sugar?

MRS: Yes! You go through sugar withdrawals.

LRN: You do! It influences your mood.

MRS: Truly addicted here.

MR: Now see, I've seen people at Starbucks, getting their morning coffee, who will put some cream in it, and then you know they have the sugar container there--do you put sugar in your coffee?

LRN: I get frappuccinos...so...

MR: Okay, so it's already there. But I've seen people just take that thing, and just turn it, and like empty half of it! Have you ever seen that?

MRS: I have not, but I believe you.

MR [to LRN]: Have you ever seen that? It's amazing. I mean, it just blows my mind. That--THAT right there is a problem.

LRN: I agree. Well, thank you both very much for your time!

MR & MRS: You're welcome!

Thank you both so much again! Can't wait to hear how it is coming on Sunday...

Tomorrow:

A Young Man's Quest Pt. 4: An Update From The Zach!

Followed by...

A Young Man's Quest: The Brotha And The Sista Speak Out

More personal testimony from Lindsay and Jordan

Why is there now corn candy embedded in the Stoever's fence and littering their back yard? Tune in tomorrow to find out!

A Young Man's Quest: BREAKING NEWS, Pt. 2

2006-09-29T06:40:00.000-07:00

If you recall, in the last BREAKING NEWS I discussed how three of my siblings briefly joined Zach on his anti-sugar quest, with two of them quickly throwing in the towel so as to partake in tasty sugar-laden morsels. If you will also recall, I speculated that the third and final dieter would soon be giving up the fast as well.

And this is indeed EXACTLY what happened yesterday. Supposedly, my Mom "forced" this individual to partake of some of my Dad's leftover birthday desserts yesterday at lunch. Perhaps this person did have his/her arm twisted (and was probably grateful for it), but do you want to know what the irresistable food was that broke the fast?

Do you want to really want to know? I find it heartbreaking.

This honorable person gave up on the diet for a day-old peice of carrot cake.

CARROT CAKE!

As you may know, I have very strong feelings about carrotcake. It is my firm belief that a vegetable substance has no business coming anywhere close to the vicinity of cakes or pies.

Well, I take that back. Some great desserts are made with veggies (such as zucchini bread--baked especially perfectly by Cindy F.), and some carrot cake can be darn good, especially if it's homemade.

But other carrot cakes? We won't go there. I guess in a moment of hunger and insanity a person's apt to do anything. And, as I have said before, since I lacked sufficient gumption to even begin a sugar fast, I can't point fingers. It was a valiant effort while it lasted, but still...carrot cake?

And so it goes. Otherwise, I'm sorry I didn't post the Interview with the Parentals yesterday--it was a great interview and I'm anxious to get it out there. Yesterday was just "one of those days" when there is no time to be found. (Have you ever noticed how in college all the profs seem to heap on work at the same time? It can make for a rather wild couple of weeks, but things settle down soon enough in the end.) However, I hope to finally The Interview up today after work, after which I can also post the Personal Update from The Zach that I obtained Wednesday night, followed by more fascinating commentary from The Brotha and The Sista--Lindsay and Jordan.

'Till then, have a great Friday and happy trails to you until we meet again!

And best wishes to The Zach, who is still trevailing dutifully on, sugarless but strong.

A Young Man's Quest: BREAKING NEWS

2006-09-27T15:54:00.000-07:00

Well, well, well. Things are getting pretty interesting.

Of what do I speak? Why, let me enlighten you.

After hearing of The Zach's impressive sugar diet, three Nevinses were so inspired they decide to join the movement, and abstain from sugar for a week themselves.

Was I one of them? Heeeeeeeck no.

At any rate, it was just brought to my attention that two out of the three, after a mere 36 hours on the diet, have shamelessly thrown in the towel and quit. I guess I can't blame them, since I lacked sufficient guts to even start a fast, but this does go to show the great self discipline The Zach is exhibiting to still be going strong.

GO, ZACH, GO!

And will the other nameless Nevins last much longer? In this house, I highly doubt it, for a variety of reasons which shall remain classified. MUAHAHAHAHA.

Finally, the Interview with the Parentals and Zach's update will have to come tomorrow, because today is my Dad's birthday and it's time to go help set up the Partay.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Young Man's Quest Pt. 2: The Brotha and the Sista Speak Out

2006-09-26T20:52:00.000-07:00

Last night when I quizzed Zach about the first day of his no-sugar diet, I also got to spend some time with Lindsay (15) and Jordan (12--see photo below), two of his siblings, to find out their take on Zach's quest. Leave it to brotha and the sista to reveal the truth of the matter--L & J did not disappoint.

Lindsay is well-known at RCG as a kind and quite mature young lady, while her bro Jordan exudes boundless enthusiasm and is continually ready to provide fascinating and detailed perspectives on all manner of topics. Jordan is my bud--we go way back.

I thoroughly enjoyed the following conversation, and will be posting the encounter with The Parentals tomorrow.

The Brotha and The Sista Speak Out
Personal Interview with Lindsay and Jordan Stoever

LRN: So why don't you both give me a little background, where you stand in the family line...a little personal history?

JORDAN: Well, the Stoevers emigrated from Germany.

LRN: HAHAHA. That's good to know. Thanks, Jordan!

JORDAN: And there, instead of being known as the Stoevers, we were known as the "Stövers" [pronounced "Stoo-fers"]

LRN: Was it a typo that caused "Stoever" to be known as the family name?

JORDAN: Mis-pronounciation...MispronounsKIation.

LRN: Alright...how about you, Lindsay? Do you want to share anything before we start?

JORDAN: Oh, we haven't even started yet?

LINDSAY: I'm just glad Zach's doing it and not me.

JORDAN: Ditto.

LRN: Why are you guys not joining your brother on this endeavor?

LINDSAY: I didn't even know he was doing anything until just a little while ago, when he said you were going to come over and interview him.

JORDAN: I like cereal. Cereal has sugar.

LRN: Do you think, Jordan, that if you tried to do this you would kind of fail and so you just don't really want to try?

JORDAN: Lucy, I don't think--I know. If I tried something like that it'd be a downright failure. [Pounds table.]

LRN: So do you think your brother is kind of cuckoo for attempting this?

LINDSAY: I think he's a little too hard on himself.

JORDAN: Lucy, I don't think--I know. He is cuckoo.

LRN: When he's told you guys, is he saying it's a week, or how long is he planning to go?

JORDAN: He said that he would like to go as long as he can, then after that he said at least a week. So, probably two or three days.

LRN: Lindsay, how long do you give him?

LINDSAY: I give him a couple days with the way he's doing it.

LRN: Why? Is it really hardcore?

JORDAN: He won't even eat bread. Because bread's got sugar. And sugar is what he doesn't want to have, because he's on a no-sugar diet.

LRN: Are you guys planning on supporting your brother, or are you planning on tempting him with sugar products?

JORDAN: [Chuckling] Yeah, duh.

LRN: "Yeah, duh," what?

JORDAN: Yes to your question.

LRN: Which one?

JORDAN: The one that you just asked.

LINDSAY [to Jordan]: There were two answers you could have given.

JORDAN: Yes or no.

LRN: So are you planning on supporting him?

JORDAN: No! I said no.

LRN: So you're undermining your brother's efforts?

JORDAN: No, I'm not undermining them. You did not ask me if I was undermining his efforts. I'm not undermining them, I'm saying that I'm not gonna support them, okay? I could totally be liking what he's doing, but does that mean that I have to support them? Does it?

LRN: No.

JORDAN: No? Thank you.

LRN: So what exactly are you going to do?

JORDAN: Tempt him.

LRN: Do you know of something in particular that you'll be eating a lot more of this week?

JORDAN: Cereal. I always eat cereal. But cereal has sugar, and he can't have sugar. So he can't have cereal.

LRN: If your brother did this for at least a week, would he go up in your mind as sort of a hero?

JORDAN: He'd go up in my mind as looney.

LRN: Lindsay, what do you think? Hero?

LINDSAY: Not quite hero, but...

LRN: But a lot more respect, right?

LINDSAY: Yeah.

LRN: One final question: If your brother succeeds in this, will you follow his example and do the same?

JORDAN: HAHAHAHAHA. [Laughing uncontrollably] Um...maybe? I don't know. Probably not.

LRN: It all depends on his mental strength when he's finished?

JORDAN: No, because I like cereal, and cereal has sugar, and I can't eat sugar if I'm on it...

LRN: Do you guys think your brother might become a little mentally imbalanced from lack of sufficient sugar?

JORDAN: Lucy, I don't think--I know.

LRN: Lindsay, do you have anything you want to add, since you didn't get much of a word in edgewise?

LINDSAY: No, Jordan's done all the talking...

JORDAN: Thank you. I love talking.

LINDSAY: I guess he's covered it all.

LRN: Thanks you both very much for your time.

JORDAN: Remember! We emigrated from Germany! We're the Stövers! Mispronunciation not misspelling! Thank you!

Thank you, mis amigos.

Tomorrow:

A Young Man's Quest Pt. 3
A Parental Perspective: And the Movement Spreads

To follow on Thursday: an update from The Zach himself!

A Young Man's Quest / Sugar Diet Sweeps Sacramento

2006-09-25T22:36:00.000-07:00

Every so often a feat of epic proportion is brought to one's attention and inspires and amazes, and must, if possible, be chronicled. Such, my friends, is now occurring.

On Sunday I became aware of the fact that a certain Zach Stoever, a great friend of my family, was planning to attempt a lengthy sugar fast (no-sugar diet) a minimum of a week long. Now, being someone who would never dream of making such a strenous attempt, I found this quite impressive.

Zach, for those who don't know him, is a kind, gentlemanly 14 year old young man well loved by those in his aquaintance. My family and I have been blessed to spend a great deal of time with he and his wonderful family over the years, and I was intrigued by the fact that Zach was attempting this feat on his own initiative. Thankfully, further demonstrating his kindness of heart, Zach agreed to let me interview him and chronicle the first week of his fast. I was also able to quiz other members his family as well, and plan to post those interviews and update throughout the week as I learn how The Zach is doing. I give you:

A Young Man's Quest

[For a similar story, check out the March archives and scroll nearly to the bottom to read The Andy Chronicles, a tale of my brother's 5 day marathon surviving on juice alone.]

Last night I trekked out to Zach's lovely home to quiz him and other members of his family. When I arrived, the first person I saw was Mr. Stoever, who was chowing on a largish bowl of cereal. I would not realize the significance of this until later, when it would be impressed upon me the incredible devotion some members of the family have for this certain food product. But I digress.

Finally, the first day of his fast drawing to a close, Zach and I sat down for the following interview:

LRN: Thanks for joining us today, Zach.

ZS: You're welcome.

LRN: Have you ever done anything like this before?

ZS: Once. Once.

LRN: How long was it for?

ZS: One week.

LRN: Tell me how it was.

ZS: It wasn't very hard...because everyone else was doing it with me.

LRN: Now why did you guys do this?

ZS: I don't remember...to get in shape.

LRN: Did it work?

ZS: Sort of...

LRN: Sort of how?

ZS: [chuckling] For a little bit.

LRN: So why have you decided to do this again all by yourself?

ZS: To get in shape, and hopefully it'll work this time.

LRN: Do you realize that this is a whole week of your life without sugar and you can never have it back, and maybe when you're older you could regret this?

ZS: Yes, I do now.

LRN: Does that worry you at all?

ZS: No...

LRN: That's good. So, tell me about your first day on the fast.

ZS: It wasn't very hard.

LRN: Was there anything that anyone else had that you couldn't have and you felt really sad?

ZS: Candy corn.

LRN: That sucks.

ZS: Yes.

LRN: So, what are you planning on eating most of this week [instead of sugar products]?

ZS: Fruit.

LRN: That has sugar in it.

ZS: Natural sugar.

LRN: So this is only an unnatural sugar product diet?

ZS: Yes. The bad sugar.

LRN: Are you kinda hungry today at all?

ZS: No...

LRN: Do you feel weak?

ZS: No.

LRN: Mentally disturbed?

ZS: I had a bike accident...

LRN: Do you think that had something to do with not having any sugar in your blood?

ZS: I don't think so...Maybe? My back brake doesn't work so I flipped over.

LRN: I'm sorry. Do you have any cool cuts to show off because of it?

ZS: Just scrapes.

LRN: What is it that you think you're gonna have the most hard time not eating this week?

ZS: [Looooong pause....] Ice cream probably, or cereal.

LRN: Like your Dad was just eating in front of you?

ZS: Yes.

LRN: Do you think your family's going to help you out with this, or are they going to try to tear you down?

ZS: I think certain people are gonna help me, and certain people are gonna tear me down.

LRN: You could give out names...

ZS: I think Mom and Dad are gonna help me, but everyone else--not so much.

LRN: Do you feel like if you survive this week by yourself, your brothers will give you a little more respect in life?

ZS: No.

LRN: Why aren't they joining you on this?

ZS: Because they like sugar.

LRN: They just don't have the same level of self-discipline?

ZS: Probably.

LRN: I figured. What do you think is going to help you survive this long week?

ZS: Not thinking about it.

LRN: Then I probably shouldn't be talking to you about it, right?

ZS: I don't care.

LRN: Well, thank you Zach for your time.

ZS: You're welcome.

Thank you, Zach, for sharing your experience. A second interview will hopefully occur tomorrow night, wherein we will learn how the adventure is coming along.

But first: Tonight...

A Young Man's Quest Pt. 2: The Brotha and the Sistah Speak Out

Shocking personal testimony from Lindsay and Jordan Stoever

Coming tomorrow...

A Young Man's Quest Pt. 3
A Parental Perspective / And the Movement Grows

**Please feel free to leave words of encouragement/advice for The Zach as he trevails through Day 2 of The Quest.

SHOW ME THE COFFEE, Pt. 2

2006-09-21T17:34:00.000-07:00

Well, folks, I finally did it. After months of anticipation, after years of nurturing a coffee craze dedicated soley to Starbucks, I stepped out of my box and broke the mold. Accompanied by the awesome Michelle W., last night I sojourned into the great unknown and visited the legendary Peet's Coffee.

I felt like I was going over to the dark side of the force, but curiosity overcame loyalty and old ties. It was hard, but I had to do it. Coffee is a lifelong adventure that can't be spent bogged down at one vista point along the way.

So, anyway, last night was the night. This is how it went down.

When we pulled up to Peet's, my first thought was that the outside looked pretty snazzy. It reminded me of Harry Potter. Something about the sign, I guess. But it was when we first stepped through the door that I was really struck.

Starbucks, before I can compare Peet's, as you know has a very posh look--sleek interior design, a modern touch, and smooooth jazz make even starving college students (who, as photography whizz Dave MacIntyre wisely observed, can barely afford PB &J but somehow always scrounge up enough pennies for Starbucks) feel like they are living The Big Life. At least that's my experience. Everything is plush, everything is streamlined, and for a moment you've joined the Big Dogs and can enjoy the view from the top.

Peets, however, at first glance was somewhat the opposite. The decor was comfortable, basic, and unostentatious. No sweet strains wafted through the air, but one thing sent all these other thoughts packing.

And that, my friends, was the smell. It was incredible. It was alluring. I was entranced.

But suddenly, my attention was averted again. And that was due to the eager smile of the guy waiting patiently behind the counter.

Holy moly, the time had come! I had to make a selection! The pressure was intense. Alas, I forgot to bring the brew/beverage recommendations made by Jody, Matt Wolf and Stacy, so it came down to a guess. In the end, just like my first time at Starbucks, I went with a basic, the Peet's equivalent of a mocha frappuccino.

I went up to the counter and ordered, and told the smiling chap it was my first time at Peet's and I'd been hearing lots of rumors.

His smile widened as he met my gaze levelly and said, "It's the greatest place in the world."

"Really....?" I said, grinning back.

"Really," he answered enthusiastically. "I had to cut off my Starbucks addiction when I started working here."

"Well, I'm still a Starbucks addict," I told him. "So we'll see if Peet's can keep up the pace."

"Oh, we're far superior," he assured me earnestly. "You'll find out."

And I did.

There was no fancy-schmancy cup at Peet's. You even have to get your own lid and straw (horrors!). But the coffee? Oh my. For one thing, I tasted it. At first my drink seemed too bitter, but I was just distracted by the double-shot dosage Stacy warned me of. However, by the time I reached the bottom of the cup, I was hooked. And my energy level was through the roof. Yet best of all, the taste was...deep, rich, and seductive. It was an experience.

So what to do now? Peet's isn't on every street corner like Starbucks, and I did miss the jazz--and I'm not about to abandon my old haunts and the Father of Modern American Coffee. But that taste..I can't stop thinking about it. Looks like it might be worth, every now and again, a longer trek across town.

Next stop in the coffee tasting saga: Tim Hortons! The accounts provided by Rodney, Bailey and Dave MacIntyre of this Canadian coffee craze have my curiosity piqued. I guess it would be kind of a lengthy drive to Canada to find a shop so it will be postponed indefinately, but there are some things in life that warrant the facing of any sacrifice or obstacle.

Is Tim Hortons one of them?

That is the question.

SHOW ME THE COFFEE AND NO ONE GETS HURT

2006-09-17T20:48:00.000-07:00

I've been in love for years now...I don't want to get all icky and make anyone uncomfortable or anything, but this really is something special as my love deepens continually and I realize that I am addicted.

It all started long ago on a stormy winter day....

I was a scrawny kid, just trying to find my place a big, bad world. New things and new people loomed and swarmed and frightened--I walked the city streets invisible but surrounded, leery eyes picking apart faces in the crowd, roving dangerously close to my hunched shoulders.

And then, one fateful winter night, I saw it.

Standing tall, clean and new on the street corner, it was the epitome of all that was "cool" and
"hip". It made appearances in countless films with the biggest stars, it was seen in the hands of suave, suited business people striding importantly down slender sidewalks. Yet, in spite of all this, its doors were opened to me. I gazed upon the golden light enshrouding the figures milling about inside, and felt wonder. My friend turned to me in the frigid air: "Let's go inside."

I was walking and not thinking, I was pushing open the doors, I was moving to the front, and suddenly I stood beside my friend, warmth unfolding my clenched fingers. Soft jazz wafted through the air, and I gradually became aware of the smiling face of a girl in an apron looking at me expectantly from behind a counter. Above her head was a huge sign covered in strange phrases: latte...machiato...frappuccino... I swallowed anxiously. I had to go forward--people would wonder. I stepped up, held out a wrinkled bill, and asked for the simplest item on the menu.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Okay, so I've sort of been exaggerating, and my love for coffee, and Starbucks specifically, is actually mild, I'd argue, in comparison with many I know. I'm not one of the hardcore coffee adicts who love it in its most elemental forms, who can stomach the stuff black--I have to get plenty of sweetening products involved in the experience. Which is why I am on a quest to try every frappuccino Starbucks makes--but just on special days, of course. That much whipped cream should only be consumed with limits.

Everything's Better Homemade

However, darn good coffee is not only found at shops, because my mom is a genius. She rummaged up a Starbucks recipe for the bottled frappuccinos sold at grocery stores, and has labored and perfected the imitation until the end product is nearly indistinguishable from the original. Our refrigerator is almost always stocked with half a dozen of these precious small bottles, waiting for her and my dad and myself. They're what get me up in the morning...most of the time.

I remember a dark and dreadful Monday just weeks ago. I was running late for work and came flying to the fridge to grab a frappuccino on my way out the door. I opened the fridge door, scanned the shelves wildly, and suddenly realized with terror:

There were NO frappuccinos to be found.

My brother had already left for work and no one else was awake, and suddenly the gray and dismal silence of the room came flooding darkly about me, the sleep still hanging about my head beating furiously upon my weary eyes. Now, bear in mind, this coffee is usually all I have for breakfast and lunch, so the empty shelves held doubled horror. I nearly wept.

It was a long day.

At any rate, what I want to know is, what's the deal with Starbucks? When I think of Starbucks, I think of good coffee, good jazz, and good friends. How has Starbucks been able to infiltrate the entirety of the US of A in just a short time, now adorning countless street corners even in a cow town like Sacramento? You know what's even more incredible is how the employees are nearly always relaxed and friendly. Lines typically fill the small shops, but the folks behind the counter are generally cheerful and calm. And coming from someone who's dealt with rather stressful lines at several jobs, that's pretty darn impressive. As a result, I've been stewing for a while about trying to see if I could get this super nice guy who works at the Starbucks by my house to give me an interview.

"Behind The Scenes At Starbucks"...it would be pretty awesome.

The Top Two

My favorite Starbucks creations at present:

1. Mocha Frappuccino with mint added

Fresh, smooth, invigorating; it's the perfect energy boost on a hot summer afternoon.

2. The Christmas Peppermint Mocha

[Notice a trend here?] It has snowflakes on the cup and only appears when the streets are lit in red and green and carols linger in the air. Need I say more?

The Rival

One thing before I conclude this strange homage: I have to confess that Starbucks is not the best coffee to be found. I've heard Peet's is the top dog but I have yet to try it so will leave that debate to those who know. But, I can tell you right now that nothing, nothing compares to coffee in Cambodia. I spent two unforgettable weeks in Cambodia on a GO Team with some folks from church last summer, and the coffee was out of this world. It's available nearly everywhere in small glasses with sweetened condensed milk in the bottom, ice piled high, and strong coffee poured over both. You mix it up with a straw and it goes down like heaven. Perhaps it was so amazing because we were sweltering in unparalleled, unwaning heat and humidity, but there was something else about it... My mom searched frantically for comparable recipes and coffees after we returned home and raved about it, and she came up with some amazing stuff. But give any great coffee to anyone from the Team and I guarantee they'll try it and pause with a faraway in look in their eyes and tell you, "It's good...but it's not the same."

It will never be the same. And neither will so many other things--but that's another tale for another time.

At any rate, I thought that in light of today being a great day (in part because the 49ers knocked out a beautiful and unexpected win against the St. Louis Rams), the time was right for a tribute to one of life's greatest blessings.

And have a great Monday tomorrow! Woohoo!

Here's to a good weekend: there's nothing better than being small on a long, free Saturday.

Sadly, there's always a Monday looming overhead...

I feel ya, Tim. Thank God coffee is there to help us pull through it. (I checked the fridge already, we're stocked. :-))

"Homesculers Younite!"

2006-09-14T08:29:00.000-07:00

The above title and the original reporting for the following sad tale are provided courtesy of Matt Wolf, who co-leads the great college Bible study 4:12.

Sacramento is already a strange enough place, but the city of Davis, just west of Sac, is even stranger. Notorious for purportedly snobbish/wacko inhabitants, scores of bikes everywhere, and a legendary annual picnic, it nonetheless boasts a great UC campus and some diligent commuter employees, one of whom is Matt Wolf.

Well, as Matt noticed, the city of Davis recently erected some warning signs along the roads:

"IF YOU SEE KIDS SLOW DOWN"

Great! Seems logical to me. Not so to some wise guys, who drew a comma on the signs, so that they now read, "IF YOU SEE KIDS, SLOW DOWN".

I'm not even sure about the use of the comma in this instance, but these folks went on to smugly add signs of their own:

Sadly, this is real. Notice anything funny about it? Yep, that's the first time I've seen "brought" spelled that way too.

I'm so grateful to my home-schooling brethren for drawing such marked attention to the merits of the home-schooled education!

Naturally, someone else noticed the error as well, corrected the spelling on these signs, and then added a third [this is not verbatim]:

"THOSE WHO LIVE IN GLASS HOUSES SHOULDN'T CAST STONES."

Ouch. Good point there.

**Sigh** As if home-schoolers don't get a bad enough rap already...

Confession:
I was supposed to be at my 8 am Economics class. Alas, I did not set my alarm properly last night. Whoops! I'm usually very hard on myself about attendance and try to miss only one day of class per semester, when I take the whole day and make a Ferris Bueller of it. Today's not supposed to be that day, though...

However, it is quite possibly one of the most beautiful days in the history of Sacramento: after a muggy day in the mid-nineties yesterday, today we have wind, blue skies (Blue!!!! Not grayish-white, but genuine blue!), and a high at 75 degrees. Which is probably why our crazy old dog Fanny was just rolling wildly around in the grass in our backyard like there's no tomorrow. I understand the sentiment--it's an incredible day to be alive.

Gotta run, though, so I can make it to my next class. I gess after what hapaned in Davis I reilly need to ad to my homeskooled edumacation.

Hav a grate day and see, yuu laterr.

The City By the Bay/Ye Olde Age, Pt. 2

2006-09-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

The City By the Bay

Ever heard of the punk rock band AFI? I hadn't, but my older brother Robbie had a CD and found out they'd be playing at the Civic Center in San Francisco last Saturday for relatively cheap mula. He got tickets, and for whatever reason I decided to go along for the ride.

I'm not a big SF person. The city, frequently cast in chill and shadow, overwhelms with steep asphalt hills and people, people, people--rich, poor, homeless, young and old swarming together on narrow sidewalks, heads bent against the breeze. There is no such thing as "personal space"--purse bearers are likely to be accosted at least once per visit by someone looking for cash, and everywhere next to buildings old and new is grime in the gutter and listless bodies huddled against a wall. Granted, the city is beautiful, especially when lit up at night, and the bay is an unforgettable sight. I suppose I'm just too accustomed to a "cow town" like Sacramento and the quick accessibility of open spaces and open roads to appreciate the merits of such a dense city. But life is always an adventure in San Francisco, and I was curious to see what Saturday night would hold.

Robbie said the band was punk, so I thought wearing my new shirt decorated in skulls (I mistook them for little white flowers when I bought it :-)) would be hardcore enough. Ha.

Our friends Alex and Stephanie came along, and we arrived in good time at the Civic Center amid long streams of folks crowding inside. Well, apparently I didn't get the memo that we were all supposed to wear black. I guess a little common sense would have told me, but I find myself lacking it frequently. So I viewed with dismay the long dark lines of forbidding faces and wondered if I would survive. I guess I could have helped my cause by sporting a mohawk or prominent tattoo or just looking as hostile as I could, but it wasn't worth the effort. So we marched on in.

The first band was already in full swing when we entered the dark, teeming auditorium. We opted to join the throng standing in the middle of the floor rather than climbing to nosebleed seats in the balconies.

It was a good two hours of deafening, pulsing chaos with the opening bands before AFI took the stage. And that's when the night took off.

These are photos from a previous concert

There was something visually arresting about the all-white clothes. I don't know why, but I was hooked.

Everything got a little more wild from there on in, and one of us was brave enough to push to the middle and go body-surfing, but it wasn't me. I could barely move as it was, with screaming people pushing in on every side. As a matter of fact, there was a little tension as a result of this. People kept shoving their way past to get in or out of the middle, and at one point suddenly the packed droves in front of us parted instantly, stumbling and falling to either side like blades of grass bowed down before a fierce wind. A moment later I felt a heavy impact knock me to the side as a huge dude came barelling through to get out of the crowd, a bull in the thick of a stampede. He knocked my brother over on the other side as well...and Robbie wasn't too happy about that. So things looked a bit hairy for a second, but it worked out. Later we discovered someone had lost his dinner and then some just behind us at the fringe of the crowd. Perhaps it was this schmuck and he just needed some emergency open space? Will we ever know?

At any rate, it was a great night. But I learned two very important things that may be useful to someone as dim-witted at times as myself:

1. Do not wear flip-flops to a rock concert. You will have your feet smashed a minimum of two times, probably more. Dress for safety. :-)

2. Do not EVER put a purse or article of clothing on the ground. Otherwise, you may pick it up at the end of the show and feel your hand come in sticky contact with a large hunk of gum planted neatly at the bottom. Nasty!!!!

There is never a dull day at the City by the Bay.

Ye Olde Age, Pt. 2

My teen years are over tomorrow. Aargh! I'm not sure what to make of this thought. If I were coming from a selfish, materialistic perspective, the advent of the "20s" would be good fodder for depression. "I'm getting older, my youth is passing, a good portion of my life is over, etc., etc., etc." [My little sister keeps hammering at this notion, telling me, "I bet dentures will come in handy," or, "Have you gotten an application to The Home yet?" ] Thankfully, though I keep toying with those notions, I have hope in something more than my own inconsequential life. Every year is a greater revealing of my own shortcomings and selfishness, giving me a clearer view of just how far I need to go and the long road ahead. But every year is also the sweetining and deepening of the knowledge of Someone who never fails, and in whose strength all things are possible, even for me. This life is merely often tumultuous prelude to real Life...each wrinkle-inducing year brings it closer. :-) So this is a good thing.

And I still plan to go out and buy a big black Harley on that far off future day when I become eligible for my first senior citizen discount. Hey, wrinkles do come with perks! It'll be a good excuse to celebrate and defy cultural expectations that I will indulge in polyester pants and loafers. Not a chance--it's gonna be a leather jacket, a bandana, and the open road for me. :-)

"This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it."

THE TRUTH ABOUT TALL PEOPLE

2006-09-07T17:27:00.000-07:00

I promised this rant some time ago, and now the time is ripe.

Good people, you've probably been the victim for quite some time of erroneous perceptions about the reality of TALL PEOPLE (in this instance, tall girls), based on common myths and misunderstandings you've seen perpetuated throughout society. Well, my friends, I hope to change that now.

Coming from one who knows....

THE TRUTH ABOUT TALL PEOPLE

How Being Tall Does Not = Being Wide,
Nor Does Being Tall = Having Hops, Or Anything Close Therein.

Over the following post, I shall address some of the key misconceptions oft encountered in the experience of tall people, contrasted with what I and others have found to be the reality. Let's get started.

Myth No. 1: Being Tall = Being Wide

This is a perception I find to be exceedingly puzzling. Why should additional height be accompanied by additional poundage? I don't get the logic, but apparently fashion designers have bought into the idea hook, line and sinker. Because, as tall girls can attest, shopping can be a nightmare. Each additional length of fabric is often accompanied by similar width, which means that unless you know the right stores to look, tall girls are often faced with one of two choices: be draped in oversized clothing resembling a gunneysack, or wear highwaters and half-shirts. Perhaps this is why I have such an aversion to clothes shopping.

Why is there a "Big and Tall"? Why not a "Thin and Tall"?

Myth No. 2: Being Tall = Having Hops

Alas, this perception, in my case, is terribly far from the truth. However, I probably stand alone in being one of the persons with the lowest amount of sports skills ever recorded in an adult human being, but other friends can testify. We are continally greeted on the street, at the workplace, at school with the question, "Do you play basketball?"

Define what you mean by "play." If you mean occasionally being able to barely scratch out a win against my 9 year old brother in HORSE when the hoop has been lowered, well, in that case, yes.

Otherwise, no. And, thank God, I am not tall enough to "slam it down," which I have been asked.

So please drop this idea. Basketball requires more than just height, it requires at least a minimal level of skill. Except in Shaq's case. HA.

Myth No. 3: Tall People Need You to Tell Them They are Tall

I know, I know--people say things without thinking. I do it all the time. But there is something about tall girls that brings out the most repetitive, obvious comments. Such as the continual feed from strangers of "Gosh, you're tall."

No. Really?

I don't mind much anymore, but I used to. I was as tall as I am now when I was twelve, just skin and bones and elbows. Alas, for some strange reason, I got the idea in my head that the best look for me was to wear as tight of clothes as I could find--especially skin-tight pants, which were borderline highwaters. Not a good look. And I got plenty of comments, and stewed over them and fumed over them and worked myself into a tizzy.

Now, however, it's merely an occasional irritant. For example, one day last winter at school I was running to a class through the rain when some dude hollered out, "Hey girl! How tall you be?"

Back off, bro. The timing ain't great. And I consider getting asked how tall I am to be kind of a personal question, so having the question posed by strangers is a little frustrating. But such is life.

Myth No. 4: Tall Girls Don't Like Shorter Guys

Soooo far from the truth. I don't need to go into embarassing personal testimony or tell friends' stories to back this up. Fact of the matter is, courtesy and gentlemanliness are a lot more rare in this day and age than taller guys. Which is why (just one quick example) my favorite partner in my short-lived ballroom dance class this spring was a pretty darn short individual, whose rhythm was a little shaky but who was, incredibly, nice. He even offered to take down a much larger individual for me who earlier that day, when I was dancing with him, remarked that he should have worn his steel-toed boots. Well, okay, I did sort of step on his foot. But the comment was kinda unchivalrous, and this taller indvidual, who was one of the best-looking guys I have ever seen, quickly lost his charm. Whereas the shorter man always brought a smile to my face and is still quite possibly one of the nicest fellows I have ever met.

So, in conclusion, we tall ones are quite aware of it. We know we're tall--many of us know we don't have hops. And we'd appreciate good shopping every once in a while.

And that's it for now! More later when the next inevitable "You must play basketball" comment comes in. Ahhh, a good rant always helps usher in a Friday.

Have a wonderful weekend!

And, if you happen to spot a tall girl tomorrow and just feel the urge to say something, do her a favor:

Walk on by.

The Mullet Chronicles, Pt. 2

2006-09-06T20:34:00.000-07:00

Well, folks, it's about that time again. Tim's mullet is coming in beautifully and the hour has come for my monthly photo update. These photos turned out rather horribly but for this purpose I guess they will suffice:

This picture was kind of an accident. Tim thought he was being really hardcore and ghetto with his scary gangsta signs. I guess getting a stick-on tattoo can do that to you.

Otherwise, he continues to welcome the mullet. I just asked him how he likes it.

"Good."

Why?

"Because."

And then my little sister Emma chimed in, "Because it keeps him warm."

Coming from an individual who hast firsthand experience bearing a mullet, I guess she knows what she's talking about.

Now, I know this is a bit of a tangent, but this short conversation with Emma and Tim reminded me of something...

My family gets quizzed a lot about what it's like to have such a big group and how we survive (I suppose 9 kids is kind of unusual). Well, I'd never say everyone should have a big family and, like everything in life, it has its ups and downs. But I want to address these questions and throw something out there for the record:

Is there less of everything to go around?

Definitely.

Is privacy a scarce commodity hard or even impossible to come by?

Absolutely.

Is there a nearly continual ruckus of some kind tearing up the atmosphere and destroying any hopes for peace and quiet?

Yes indeed.

Is there more work for everyone?

Certainly.

But would I ever trade in these crazy punks for privacy and peace and quiet and more possessions?

Not a chance in the world.

Interview With a Carnie

2006-09-04T22:16:00.000-07:00

This is my first Labor Day in 5 years not working at the California State Fair. Words cannot express my gratitude that my carnie days (as of last year) are over! My experience was rather unpleasant, though educational. I won't elaborate but I do have to stick one thing out there for the record:

You know those lovely little pastry twists coated in sugar and cinnamon that you can buy at the Fair? They are called "churros." Pronounced "CHOO-rros"--if you really want to do it right roll the "rr" just a tad. They are not churrisos, cheerios, charros, or even churros sticks. I cannot tell how many times I heard requests for those strange items.

Secondly, not everyone who works at the Fair knows where the deep-fried twinkies can be found. So for everyone's sake please don't ask. Yes, the Fair is an annual excuse to chow otherwise nasty and hazardous food, but this, good people, is like paying cash for a heart-attack on a platter.

Anyway, there are some in my family who still carry the torch of State Fair drudgery: namely, my brothers Andy and Dan. They're at this renowned institution as I write, finishing up a long day at the end of a longer 3 1/2 weeks. I salute their dedication.

In fact, to celebrate my brothers' experience at this and previous Fairs and to bring to the public attention what it's really like to be an infamous "carnie", I conducted an impromptu interview with Dan this morning as he prepared to embark on his final day--a killer 12 pm to 11 pm shift. Bless his heart.

I give you...(drum roll please)

Interview With a Carnie

Dan the Carnie and some of his wares, Labor Day 2006

LRN: Tell me about the life of a “carnie”. What does your daily work include?

DLN: Well, I start out the day by arriving at the Fair, and if it’s a weekday, I’ll go and give a few coworkers their lunch break, usually around 1, 1:30; and then after that, for the next four hours, I deliver 40 lb. bags of ice all over the Fair.”

LRN: What do you guys sell?

DLN: We sell sodas, Coke products—which we get quite a few complaints about—

LRN: Why?

DLN: Because they’re not Pepsi—churros, pretzels, and frozen lemonades.

LRN: How do you like being known as a Carnie?

DLN: I hate it.

LRN: Why?

DLN: Because it’s torture.

LRN: Why?

DLN: 'Ccause a lot of times carnies are losers who have nothing going for ‘em, will never have anything going for ‘em, and are really creepy.

LRN: I was once a carnie, but don’t want to be known as a carnie forever. Do you think it’s “Once a carnie, always a carnie”?

DLN: No, I really don’t, because you can change your situation, by, like, going to college or actually graduating high-school.

LRN: Tell me about your worst customer.

DLN: Well, the customer will come up, then they’ll ask about your prices, then they’ll throw in a few curse-words about how high your prices are and how you shouldn’t tax water...We had one customer come up. He said, “Okay, I bought two of your $2.32 waters with a $20, and got $15 back. Shouldn’t there be some change there?” “Uh, no, the sign said ‘Plus tax.’” “Yeah, I know, but that should be like $2.45, right?” “No, sir, it’s $2.50.” “Fine.” And he storms off.

LRN: Have you had very many nice people? At all?

DLN: Well, a few. Mostly people from church. Once in a while you get a person who apologizes about the person who cussed you out when they were standing in line behind ‘em, and gives you a nice little tip.

LRN: What’s your biggest tip?

DLN: One dollar and fifty cents.

LRN: HAHAHA. Does it still make your day?

DLN: Yeah, ‘cause then you can sometimes, if you get enough, you can, like, buy a corndog or something.

LRN: The nicest customer I ever had was a guy who noticed it was really hot outside and went and got me a fan, one of those little motorized fans that you can like hang around from your neck or whatever...How do you deal with the heat?

DLN: Um, luckily a lot of the times if you’re moving with ice it kinda keeps you cool, ‘cause you switch it from shoulder to shoulder and water drips down your back and stuff so there’s that, and then when I’m working at the stand there’s not really any way to keep cool, you just drink as much as possible.

LRN: That’s nice. My experience trying to keep cool was having coworkers shove ice down the back of my shirt when it wasn’t asked for, so I would say that carrying the ice is probably better. What are your thoughts as you move into the last day of work at the Fair?

DLN: I can’t believe it’s finally over.

LRN: I see. So it hasn’t been a very positive experience?

DLN: It’s been okay…it’s getting cussed out—it’s getting kind of old. I’m just looking forward to the wad of money.

LRN: You think you’re gonna get a fat wad? Will you be paid tonight?

DLN: Yeah—according to the calculations I’ve done, if I get paid minimum wage I will be getting at least 1001 dollars.

LRN: That’s not too bad! Good luck!

DLN: Thank you.

Dan, wherever you are right now, may your last minutes as a carnie be short and sweet.

And to the rest of y'all, hope you had a wonderful Labor Day. And have a great day back in the saddle at work tomorrow! Woohoo!

A State Fair Hypnosis / Dan's Big Day

2006-09-01T15:16:00.000-07:00

The following is the strange, twisted tale of my little brother's parctipation in a hypnosis show at the State Fair on Tuesday:

No, that's not him. [Ha ha] That's a photo that would appear in Sac's biggest newspaper two days later, documenting the experience of this gentleman, my brother, and the rest of those who participated in the show.

A little background, perhaps? Sure!

The Great Terry Stokes (seen above in the unfortunate yellow pantsuit) is a cornerstone, a pillar, an institution of the unparalleled California State Fair. His "hypnosis" demonstration, involving humorous and embarrassing stunts performed by voluntary participants, is a must-see element of the Fair, and is visited by dedicated fans year after year after year. In recent times Fair planners decided to cut Stokes' show from the itinerary--and were, presumably, barraged with wild protests from infuriated Sacramentins (my family and I and others were horrified to learn that Terry would not be there)--and this year the man himself was back again, bigger and better than ever.

Woohoo!!!

So on Tuesday most everyone in my family made our trek to the Fair, and at 7 pm sharp were waiting for The Great Terry Stokes to appear.

Now, at the beginning of his act, Stokes selects a dozen or so volunteers from the audience to "hypnotize" and make sport of. We were sitting on steps in the back of the stage area, and suddenly I was possessed with a stroke of brilliance. Everyone had always wanted to know if there was any legitimacy to his "hypnosis" claims--and with Dan on the scene, here was our chance to know.

Dan, for those who do not know him, is a good-hearted 16 year-old dude with no qualms about making a buffoon of himself.

Dan, Mom, Steve, Tim and Peggy camping spring 2006

He may not be able to make a joke to save his life but he is a darn good kid.

Thus, in that instant I knew that Danny was our key to unlocking the mysteries of Terry Stokes. Now, after years of speculation, we could at last find out what really happened.

Was there any hypnosis at all? Or were we just pawns, duped by the smooth talking and lame jokes of a strange man?

We were about to find out.

After a little persuasion, we convinced Dan to leap to his feet and wave his arms wildly when Mr. Stokes began selecting his crew from the many eager volunteers squealing in the audience. Bang, bang, bang--all of a sudden he had picked a dozen folks from the front of the crowd and there was only one spot left. We held our breath as his eyes scanned the audience slowly, narrowly, roved about and suddenly--inexplicably--landed directly on my brother's leaping form at the top of the stairs.

"You up there, with the hat," he called. "Come on down here."

We went crazy.

We sent Dan down to the stage with our screaming and hollering accompanying the goofy grin splitting his face. My little sister Lila began laughing hysterically, and did not let up until the end of the show. Why? The emotion of the moment, I suppose. Remember, Terry Stokes is a local hero. Dan was making Nevins history.

Over the following minutes we would laugh, guffaw, wheeze, chortle--you name it--and scream until our cheeks hurt from smiling, as Dan, appearing completely calm, would supposedly hear a voice talking in his hat, would cuddle with strangers, and would pull out dance moves we never knew existed.

It was great.

He, however, was not the true star of the show. That title should be awarded to the gentleman at the top, who did a stunning impersonation of Michael Jackson.

But at any rate, the big moment was at the end of the show when Dan came trotting back to us--and was promptly accosted by a reporter from the Sac Bee and a near-hysterical woman who just had to know if it was real.

"Well, Dan," we asked, "What happened?"

"Well...it was really strange." He said. "It's real. I felt really relaxed and it was really weird and I don't really remember anything but it was a lot of fun." His eyes were wide and sincere as he spoke, but I was far from convinced. So I fixed him with The Look.

[All women can produce The Look when necessary--it never fails to strike fear into the bones. Your Mom probably had a killer Look, right? Right?]

I expected to see him respond with the usual rapid blinking, shifty eyes, and tell-tale flush spreading across the cheeks--a typical indicator of guilt and deceit--but he did not.

Hmmm.

Dan maintained this story of gen-u-ine hypnosis throughout the rest of the night, though none of us were ready to believe him.

And then, the next day, everything changed.

We were eating dinner when Dan returned from work, and then he dropped the bombshell.

"Guess what," he announced. "The hypnosis thing didn't work at all. I was just tricking you guys. I knew what was going on the whole time and I was just trying not to laugh. He was even whispering instructions to us on stage."

Well, thanks Dan, there went my dinner.

Though I'd never really believed in the hypnosis, there was always a faint hope in the back of my mind that it wasn't just a bunch of hams deliberately goofing it up on stage. So this was an awful moment, probably similar to what a small boy would feel upon discovering that what was really inside the Mickey Mouse at Disneyland was a beefy, greasy sleazeball who took hourly breaks to chug from the whiskey bottle tucked inside his costume.

Ouch.

But now, after Daniel's confession, we're still not sure what to think. Which story is true? He told them both with poise and that innocent sure gaze (which in afterthought is somewhat disturbing), so what's the reality?

I still don't know.

[By the way, the whole Sac Bee article is here-- you'll find Dan mentioned briefly in the bottom half.]

Terry Stokes, O Terry Stokes, thou connoisseur of human will, wherein lieth the truth of thy mysterious charm? Be thou mere cunning trickster, or dost thou transcendeth the lowly frame of mortal man? Will we ever knoweth?

This is getting oldeth.

A Hairy Question

2006-08-28T21:38:00.000-07:00

Amigos,

I have a confession to make. My dreams of late have been haunted by strange, dreadful images of a dark plague spreading its thick cloud across the faces of innocent men around the world...men whose fine physique is eternally marred by this odious curse. I toss and turn at night, sleep fleeing from my weary eyes as I wrestle with the deep question of why such a plague has come to torment the earth. I need your help. I need to know---I can't rest until I do.

Why? WHY?

WHY THE MOUSTACHE?

From whence is its origin? And why has it come to this storm-tossed land? I just do not understand...

I know, sometimes guys grow mustaches to hide unattractive facial features. That is acceptable, and when accompanied by a beard or some scruffy substitute, it can work for the right man.

But the moustache by itself? No offense against mustachioed men, but it's like a furry caterpillar burrowing itself into the upper lip of good-hearted chaps.

Need I say more?

Now, as in all areas of life there are exceptions. I'm sure there are men who make the moustache look flippin' sweet, and I know there are scores of women who find this hairy entity attractive.

But what I don't understand is the habit of so many teenage guys to squeeze out this thready little attempt at face fuzz you see everywhere. You know, the thin, weedy "moustache" marked by distinct hairs that appear to have been nurtured and coddled one by one as they poke their scrawny heads from beneath the skin that is screaming "No! Not yet! I'm not ready to be a man!" It makes me sad.

And along with the moustache question, what's the deal with one of its most famed proponents, Magnum P.I.? How did this strange man cause so many hordes of squealing women to swoon at the sight of his near-mullet and Hawaiian shirts? Not to mention the skin-tight pants and miniscule shorts that barely differ from his unmentionables.

Do you think his shorts could get any shorter?

Or could his pants get any tighter?

I'd really like to understand the draw. Was it the hair? The moustache? The tiny shorts? Or was Magnum, like the mullet, an institution beyond the scope of human comprehension?

Please, someone, illuminate me as to the mystery of the Magnum and the Moustache.

Are You Ready For Some Football?

2006-08-25T15:53:00.000-07:00

Less than two weeks until the first game of the NFL Season.

WOOOHOOOO!!!!

I'm so excited to know that this year I can be home for the 49ers games..rather than last year, when during Monday Night Football I was mournfully attempting to sell embroidered jackets and elastic waist pants to older women at the mall. Those were tough days. I would have to drive straight to work after Chem Lab...all the while knowing that Michaels & Madden were at it and I was missing NFL history.

But no more. I've lost touch with who's where and what's going on but hopefully this season I can get back into the swing of things.

Because pro football is a beautiful thing...

THE TOP THREE

The Top Three NFL Sights:

1. Brett Favre--anytime, anyplace, doing anything

2. The Lambeau Leap

3. The Patriot's offensive line crouched down in the snow in December--waiting for the snap, their breath steaming in the frigid air

The Top Three NFL Sounds

1. My brother Robbie's roars of rage at every bad Niners play--his hilariously futile attempts to camouflage the occasional slip of a nasty word by bellowing into a pillow

2. John Madden talking about "cankles"

3. A roomful of people erupting into cheers after a good play

The Top Three NFL Experiences

1. Meeting former 49ers QB Jeff Garcia. When we first started watching football as a family it was during Jeff's comeback season a few years ago when the Niners went 12 and 4. It was a good time to be a 49er fan and I fell madly in love with Jeff's enthusiasm, thinning red hair, and fighter mentality. We went to the Niners' training camp several the following year when it was actually open to the public, and one day Jeff came and signed autographs for all the fans piled up at the fence and actually took a picture with me...it was one of the best days EVER.
Why did they have to trade that beautiful man away? :-(

2. The one playoff game the 49ers have actually won since we've been watching. Those were the good ol' days...the team was down by a huge margin but fought back with a mad onslaught at the end of the 4th quarter and won it in the last minutes. I hope there is another such playoff game in store for them at some point in the next decades...but right now it doesn't seem likely.

3. Any Monday Night Football game

GO NINERS!!!!

An Old Dog's Tough Life

2006-08-23T20:19:00.000-07:00

Emma and Fanny 2006

Poor Fanny. When we adopted her last Christmas we thought we were doing her a favor--her previous owners had been neglectful and horrid and had left her tied up all day waiting for the nasty scraps they would throw her--which in the end left her bloated and weak, her fur falling out in patches and her skin drooping in curious bulges. I loved her the first day I saw her--my mom had finally relented after years and years of pleading and we'd been looking for a dog for a couple weeks. So anyway, I arrived home beat down after a crazy night working at the mall just before Christmas, and when I opened the front door I heard a soft padding and looked down to find a small, graying head with weary eyes staring calmly back up at me, her tail wagging timidly. My family had wanted me to be surprised, and I can't think of a more welcome sight that long winter night.

We were all thrilled to have her, thinking that exercise and a moderated diet and some good lovin' would soon boost her depressed spirits.

Alas, we did not consider that perhaps a senior citizen such as herself might prefer not to be thrust in a house with eleven wild people petting at her and yelling all day long. The picture above with my little sister and the desperate look on her face says it all.

Fanny comes ambling to us when we call her, and she will even jog a bit for my mom. She still wags her tail when we pet her, and as I wrote earlier, she purrs like crazy when her stomach gets scratched. But soon she retreats, slinking and silent, to some corner where she can rest her weary bones.

She reminds me of an elderly man who wants nothing more than to sit in his easy chair with a good pipe and a good book and some peace and quiet, darn it! Or perhaps a tiny older lady whose passion is for her knitting and a good piece of toast and marmalade in the morning, with "Wheel of Fortune" closing out a long night at 8 pm--whose life is spent behind closed white doors only cracked open to receive annual letters from Uncle Earl or the weekly visits from Mabel and the Quilting Club.

If Fanny were an elderly woman that would be the life for her. But she's an old dawg and she's stuck with us.

I feel her pain.

Back to the Grindstone

2006-08-22T21:28:00.000-07:00

Today was my first day of classes for Sac City's fall term. It's my third semester at this renowned institution (har har)...and I crammed my four classes into Tuesdays and Thursdays so I can continue to work at the office the three other weekdays.

So at any rate, today was the first plunge back into academia after an unbelievably brief summer spent letting my mind turn to mush by engaging it as little as possible. Just kidding...but I did feel mighty rusty cracking open the books again today.

Sac City, if you haven't been privileged to visit, is a very unique "college." Some aspects of campus life there are frustrating, but this is to be expected at any institution. Overall, I quite enjoy the school as the students and faculty are so diverse and often strange that it's extremely entertaining just to blend in the crowd and watch everyone.

Is this generalization boring? Well, a couple examples from today to illustrate what I mean:

7:55 am

My first class, macroeconomics. The other students waiting with me in the hall for our prof to arrive appear equally exhausted--our heads snap up as our professor comes down the hall, key in hand, his appearance unusual and his face stern and unsmiling. The heavy silence thickens as we file into the classroom and take our seats. He begins to arrange his materials and some equipment, the lines about his mouth tightening as he surveys us through narrowed eyes.

And then the silence breaks. A craggy grin sweeps over the teacher's face as Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall," comes booming out of a stereo in the corner. He calmly passes out syllabuses to the accompaniment of "We don't need no education...we don't need no thought control"...his lecture reinforces it later but this is the point at which I know I'm going to like this guy.

Turns out, as he would later explain, he likes to start off the semester with a little rock. And he thought the song seemed appropriate. :-) I liked it! It snapped me wide awake!

10:30 am

Sac City's technology building is quite possibly one of the ugliest and unfortunately situated structures in the history of architecture. A rough brick building, it sits nearly windowless, unwelcome and stifling in the full sun with only a few baby trees to soften the sharp edges. So I was blessed to find one of the few places to sit in the shadow of another building, and was joined by an older woman pulling 18 units and a 60 hour work week and having plenty to say about the state of the world. One of the cosmetology classes close by got out as we were waiting, and when the girls (and lone, small man) filed by in their hideous burgundy uniforms, this lady shook her head disapprovingly and muttered,
"Nothing good comes out of cosmetology. You tell me one success story that comes out of cosmetology! Why don't they just go and get a real degree instead of wasting they's time."

I guess she had a point. She was friendly, at any rate, and then out of the blue a gentleman appeared on the scene.

Apparently he came walking to find us from his waiting place farther down the building, and suddenly there he was, his hand thrust out to shake ours, his eyes darting about anxiously. I assumed he had our class, turns out he did not. But he started asking questions, sat down with us for a moment and then stood nervously back up, shifting about all the while. Finally, after a couple minutes of conversation he turned to me and blurted, "I like your earrings." [Twitch, twitch.]

"Uh...thanks!" I said in surprise. "They were actually really cheap at Target." [Sometimes I am too honest...:-)]

"That's awesome," he enthused nervously, and a moment later abruptly announced, "I guess I should go back and see what my people are doing," and bolted.

I have no clue what precipitated that interaction. And such is life at Sac City.

12:40 pm

I saw my English professor from last semester! The best part of the day by far. That's part of what's so great about a community college--the accessibility and general friendliness and kindness of the faculty.

1:45 pm

I don't know why I scheduled a psychology class back to back with philosophy, but I did. And both classes seem great...especially since psychology apparently attracts an even stranger lot than normal. For example: 45 minutes into the lecture the door flies open and a quite...unique...looking older woman in a tank top marches into the room. Someone had just been making some comment about the behavior of "crazy" people, and she looks around and bellows hoarsely,
"Crazy people rule the world!"
And then plops down calmly on the floor.

3:15 pm

We're discussing societal expectations for men and women in modern culture in my history class (yes, of course the feminist movement was indirectly promoted, George Bush and Fox News took a few hits, and Al Gore's new movie was recommended throughout the day [I just what to know what makes Al Gore an environmental expert? Why does he suddenly hold the corner on truth for the future of the earth?], but this I have come to expect) and people are bringing up some pretty deep ideas. Then a chap in the corner raises his hand.
"Yes, go ahead," the teacher encourages expectantly. "What do you find is a societal expectation for either males or females?"

"Well...." he says. "Girls are supposed to smell good. Like, they are supposed to smell less bad than the guys."

Brilliant!!

And such, in part, is life at Sac City--but the classes all seem quite challenging thus far and I'm feeling kinda overwhelmed with work and the new courses right now (though it may not seem like that with this lengthy post :-)). I just want so badly for this semester to be of some value other than just increasing my head knowledge and giving me a few credits on a piece of paper. I typically obsess over my grades way too much and put other more important things (like helping my family) on the back burner in the pursuit of my perfectionist tendencies. I really don't want to do that this semester--or to become obsessed with my own little social life at school without really stepping out and trying to draw attention to Jesus and to make a difference in other peoples' lives.

I'm praying this semester will be different.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game, Pt. 2

2006-08-20T13:28:00.000-07:00

This is Raley Field. Home of the Sacramento Rivercats. Also the place where recently I had a grand time attending a game...and got suckered into working at last night.

To make a long story short, I agreed earlier this week to work at last night's game with a coworker of mine to help fundraise for the her husband's foundation teaching under-privileged kids how to play soccer. It wasn't until after I said yes that I learned we would be working at one of the three main, huge booths peddling hotdogs and pretty much anything else anyone would want to eat or drink at a ball game. Thus, as the day approached I admit I harbored some apprehension and a rather bad attitude, being a bit of a coward when it comes to learning new work-related things and also disappointed to be missing out on a pool party happening at my pastor's house during the game.

But, such is life, and I needed to keep my commitment. Plus, I knew that whatever the result, it would be an interesting experience. So I went.

I got the first sense that this might not be quite what I hoped when I was walking to the field through the employee parking lot yesterday afternoon. I had Raley Field in a cheery mental box associated with baseball, good food and good fun, but the folks heading with me to the employee entrance were plodding slowly along, heads down, faces grim. Hmmmm.

Once inside the right booth, it was a half hour before I got instructions or my coworker showed up, but I was provided with a visor and an apron and tried to make myself useful. Finally she arrived, I was given 10 minutes instruction, stuck behind a register, and found myself facing my first customer. Within minutes I had a line, and that line grew into a swarm, and that line did not end for the next 3 HOURS.

Now, I've worked at an ice cream shop, at a clothes store in one of Sac's busiest malls, and at the State Fair on weekends for 4 years. And except for one day at the Fair when my booth was the closest access to water at the end of a packed concert, I have never in all those days selling all those things experienced anything like last night. It was unbelievable. It's all a blur now...

I was submerged in a sea of faces, with the endless requests melding into a roaring in my ears ["...Hotdogs...fries...two MGDs...a diet soda...nachos and a beer...peanuts, sunflower seeds and popcorn..."], hearing my own voice hollering out orders to the runners, watching money and food, money and food passing through my hands, feeling my face pasted into an unending smile with my throat getting drier by the minute, and all the while in the back of my mind my eyes unmoving, fixed on the slow setting of the sun over the baseball field.

Then, suddenly, in the top of the eighth I looked up, saw that it was dark and found myself alone.

HALLELUJAH!!!!

There was a steady stream of customers for the next hour, but we had a few breathers and before we knew it a huge roar from the crowd signaled that the opposing team hadn't managed to tie it in the top of the ninth, the windows were rolling down, we were grinning wanly at each other and chugging water in the back and it was all over.

I was able to go outside and watch the fireworks before cleaning up, and I leaned against a pillar drinking in the cool air while all the folks who had just been swarming the stands for hotdogs and beer were now sitting smiling and quiet, watching as the shimmering colors exploding overhead illuminated the black sky. And I found myself suddenly glad to be there with them and grateful to have been part of it all, and wishing I'd had a better attitude to begin with. There's just something about the US of A and there's just nothing like a ball game.

I was also pleasantly surprised in the end to notice that nearly every single customer was nice--quite different from my past retail experiences. I guess it's hard to be rude when you're having a darn good time. Although, we did get two complaints: one for a modly hotdog and another for raw chicken strips. Nasty! I really hope they were exaggerating. And, of course there were the two geniuses who had to ask me if we were "on a platform" behind the counter (in the end I think we actually were), and when I answered in the negative they just had to know how tall I was. After that unwelcome question, they proceeded to enthuse that I should play in the WNBA because I would be able to "slam it down."

Thank you, gentlemen, I suddenly feel so delicate and feminine.

Did I feel any compassion a moment later when their credit card didn't go through? Not an ounce.

**Just as an FYI, I am tall but I'm not WNBA tall. And a post is coming soon about tall people, because there are some things that need to be said. But I digress.

All in all, it was a good night, and the experience made me exceedingly grateful for my slow office job, and also left with a strange craving to go to another ball game.

Go Rivercats!

Coming soon...

The conclusion of
THE LIFE OF A HOME-SCHOOLED NERD
Debunking the Myths: The Truth Behind the Legend

which will be followed shortly by

THE TRUTH ABOUT TALL PEOPLE:
How Being Tall Does Not = Being Wide, Nor Does Being Tall = Having Hops, Or Anything Close Therein.

The Good Life

2006-08-18T15:28:00.000-07:00

Today did not get off to a good start. One of those rushed Friday mornings which climaxed in forgetting to eat or bring food to the office, hitting stop-and-go crawling traffic the whole drive on the freeway due to an accident, spilling coffee on myself in the parking lot, and promptly receiving a bit of an earfull from a rather unpleasant woman who cleaned our windows and hadn't been paid yet (partly my fault) as soon as I got to the office.

But...today is Friday and on such days small irritations are of little consequence (though I admit I was in a foul mood all morning).

And in the celebration of good days, some pictures I snuck of my loco brother Steve: the little people were watching "The Sandlot" the other day after church and I stepped in to check it out and found myself in awe of the huge grin splitting Steve's face and the wild laughter erupting from him during any scene that had the faintest touch of humor. Good ol' Steve...

Because sometimes life is just that good.

Happy Friday!

A Fond Farewell

2006-08-17T23:37:00.000-07:00

Once again, it is too late to tackle the rest of the "HSN" topic, so another brief aside:

At tonight's college Bible study we had a BBQ in honor of Michael T. and Sam C., both of whom are departing on various exciting endeavors to other locations.

We'll see them again (and Michael's not gone yet) but they have both been a blessing and I HATE GOODBYES.

Someone said, "Life is made up of meetings and partings." [Gandalf in LOTR, maybe?]
I wish it was just meetings.

I'm the kind of schmuck who gets sad on the last day working at the Fair (though I typically gripe my way through the entire experience), who is depressed the final day of the semester, and who is bummed when pretty much anyone I've met leaves--even the really nice bagger at Albertson's. Probably the most unpleasant thing in life that I can think of are goodbyes, and the worst of it is that I know there are many more to come.

Next to God, people are the absolute best thing about life (though they can also sometimes be a pain in the butt). I love to meet them and I hate to see them go.

We will miss them both.

Did I already mention that

I HATE GOODBYES!!!!

A Quick Question

2006-08-15T23:18:00.000-07:00

Before I finish up the lengthy discussion of home-schooling, I have one quick question:

Are dogs supposed to purr? Because my family's dog Fanny does so when we scratch her largish paunch, and quite loudly. I've never heard any other pooch do this, but then again Fanny defies the normal expectations for a dog in nearly every sense: e.g. her great fondness for lounging about and napping constantly (which cannot be attributed soley to her age, though in dog years she would be eligible for many a senior citizen discount), her general refusal to run or fetch, and her attempts to sound menacing and scare away prowlers or evil dogs...with one wussy bark.

Fanny, the world's greatest purring dog!

THE LIFE OF A HOME-SCHOOLED NERD Debunking the Myths: The Truth Behind the Legend

2006-08-14T20:20:00.000-07:00

You've seen them at the library. At chess tournaments. The National Spelling Bee. You've analyzed them carefully...you've heard the stereotypes and laughed at the jokes.

Ever wondered what goes on in their minds? What occurs in the day-to-day aspects of their strange, shrouded lives?

Well, now's your chance. Take it from one who's been a HOME-SCHOOLED NERD since the fist day of kindergarten, who's lived the life for twelve long years. Be prepared to face the shocking reality debunking the myths--and the truth behind the legend.

I give you...

THE LIFE OF A HOME-SCHOOLED NERD

Introduction

Throughout the following narrative I shall present a minimally exaggerated version of some of the main stereotypical perceptions presented me by those attempting to understand my or my siblings' lives, after which I will provide what I have found or witnessed in other folks' lives to be the reality. Granted, my experiences are obviously just that: one person's small world hardly representing the whole of the masses, but I have been a HSN for quite some time and have witnessed all my (8) siblings be home-schooled, as well as many other acquaintances, so I hope to present an accurate picture of what, in some cases, really goes on in the home-schooled life. Okay. On with it.

Perception No. 1: The Social Doofuses

Scenario A
Home-Schooled Nerd slowly cracks open his front door, blinking rapidly in the sunlight spilling onto his sallow, bespectacled face. He drinks in fresh air for the first time in months, tentatively steps outside and makes his way to the street. Something deep inside of him is stirring, something crying out for companionship, for the bonds of fellowship he has read about during his long days tucked cozily away in his attic. His eyes scan the street nervously and suddenly, he spots it! A boy his age pedaling toward him on a bicycle. As the boy approaches, HSN lifts a trembling hand and calls out, "Hark! My name is Cornelius. Would you like to be my kindred spirit and come to my home for some lovely tofu salad and a long afternoon poring over Shakespeare's works?" The boy stares incredulously at HSN for a long moment before bursting into laughter and ramming him with his bike as he pedals away.

Scenario B
It's HSN's first invitation to a party in weeks. She is carefully attired in a lovely plaid dress and enters the room where the other girls are playing Twister, clinging anxiously to her mother's hand. The girls welcome her in and attempt conversation but she does nothing but glance around wildly and mutter monosyllabic replies to their questions, slowly backing into a corner where she finally gasps wildly, bursts in to tears and rushes from the room.

The Reality

This is the most common stereotype I have encountered, the disbelief of those who, after we have engaged in conversation, question, "But aren't you home-schooled? I mean, you can actually talk and stuff! How did you learn to socialize?" No one's said it quite that bluntly, but they've come mighty close. Now, the reality in this instance is that home-schooling in no way means hunching down in some dark corner of a shuttered house all day, scarcely seeing another living soul besides your parents for weeks at a time. My parents very kindly made it possible for my older brother and I to participate in some truly geeky but absolutely fun home-schooled drama groups and choirs and other activities when we were younger (go ahead, snicker, they were pretty darn nerdy) and as time has gone on, what with work and college and church and all we have moved into other realms of socialization. My younger siblings have other activities they participate in, and thanks to my parents' hospitality we always seem to have a steady stream of differing individuals passing through the home. Our experience is not unique within the "home-schooling community" we have known, but I have to admit that I have met some kids who seem more reticent and conversantly awkward than your average publicly educated kid (whatever that means). However, this in some cases is merely the result of personality (as it is with those of us who are more quiet within my family), not of education. Yes, perhaps fewer people are seen in a given day and more time is spent at home, but plenty of conversation and socialization is easily accessible in other areas of life. So are home-schoolers as a rule socially inept and hermit-like? I don't think so. I've encountered some and probably been a social doofus myself, but as a whole the stereotype probably does not apply. The world lies just outside a person's front door...it would be mighty hard to hide from it and miss out on all social encounters, especially here in wild California.

Perception No. 2: A Day in the Life

Scenario A
HSN's alarm blares wildly at six, and as he stifles it his eyes pop open with joy at the realization that today is the big day! The Historical Document Recitation Contest! He's studied six hours a day for this for months and at last he feels ready. He leaps from his bunk, hits the ground running and snatches his loafers and sport coat as he bolts from the room. Mum is waiting in the kitchen with home-baked bread and home-made jelly when he arrives, and he wolfs down a few bites while slicking back his hair. Soon they hop into their 1965 Station Wagon and fly down to the local Home-School Convention Center, where the HDR Contest is held annually. This year he's prepared a real treat: a full recitation of the US Constitution, the Declaration of Independence and the Mayflower Compact. It's his favorite day of the year...and tomorrow should be swell too: a trip to the Pioneer Museum will cap off a wild, beautiful weekend.

Scenario B
HSN languidly yawns and open her eyes. Peering groggily at her clock, she sees it's long past ten. Hmmmm....she woke up early today. Lazily pulling a t-shirt over her ponderous belly, she ambles downstairs and sticks a Pop-Tart in the toaster. Drat, her mom bought chocolate again! She should have remembered that HSN only likes strawberry! Grumbling to herself, she chokes down the food while catching some "Full House." An hour later she pulls out her two schoolbooks, stares at them briefly, and scribbles a few answers in the spaces. After lunch her mom comes to collect her schoolwork, and when HSN turns it in she takes it with wide, beaming eyes, crying, "Sweetie! You did so good! Two pages of math in one day! And subtraction too!" Carelessly scanning the pages, she chucks them to the floor, envelopes HSN in a rib-cracking hug and squeals, "Another A+ for Mama's best girl!!"

The Reality

Well, no one's ever approached me with anything like those hypothetical days. I couldn't help myself. It was too much fun...:-)
But, the usual question is, "What do you do all day?" Usually followed by some statements about HSN's getting to do whatever they want all the time, sleep in every day, and other comments along that line.
Well, in my family's case that is partially true. We are all night-owls and yes, before college I got to sleep in pretty much every day but Sunday. I didn't adequately appreciate it at the time...now, when getting up at 6 or so for work I think back on those days with fond longing. Though I have enjoyed learning to appreciate the beautiful, still morning hours! However, the sleeping in was followed by plenty of schoolwork and plenty of chores...but no Historical Document Recitation Contests. :-) Sometimes, actually, I found myself fascinated by accounts of huge schoolwork requirements endured by my HSN friends. I would venture a guess that the latter is more common than the event of a HSN laying around all day...the parents of HSNs usually are pretty determined about what they are doing and have a solid game plan laid out for the best education they can provide for their children. My parents gave us a great education with a LOT of reading...and I'm grateful for it. It wasn't excessive...it was probably pretty close to what a Public School Kid (PSK) would encounter, with extra reading on the side. The difference was, however, that with motivation and self-discipline the schoolwork could be completed in a much shorter time than a PSK's because we didn't have to wait around for the rest of a class to finish up. That was a great benefit! All the more time to run around outside and tear things up--or read a good book.

Perception No. 3: Fashion Icons

Scenario A
HSN is about to take a girl on a date for the very first time. He can scarcely stop smiling--he's counted his rumpled $3 over and over again to make sure he will have enough for a medium ice cream sundae for two. He's also planned his outfit for quite some time and now begins to don it carefully. First, the olive-green moccasins. He knows this will be a big hit with Molly Sue. Then the over-sized tweed slacks, buttoned and belted carefully just below his chest. They hike up rather painfully in his behind, but hey, no one ever said love would be easy. Next, a thick plaid shirt beneath a green woolen vest, and finally, to cap it off, his hair parted perfectly in the middle and falling in symmetrical bowl-length on every side. He grins devilishly at himself in the mirror: "Lookin' good, lookin' good."

Scenario B
Meanwhile...
Molly Sue is braiding her long hair nervously and winding it about her head like a crown. Will Reginald Roy truly come pick her up for their magical date? Will he remember that she is lactose intolerant and hates ice cream parlors? She shoves her feet into black lace up boots, securing the bow firmly. Thick knee high stockings, a warm calico dress and a hand-embroidered bonnet complete the look. She bites her lips and pinches her cheeks to make them glow...Reginald, oh Reginald. Hopefully he will notice how splendidly she has dressed herself just for him:

Heh heh heh. I found that picture online and couldn't resist. Anyway:

The Reality

Well, I don't have too much to say in this case because of some of the...um...interesting fashion choices I have witnessed (and made). In some instances it appears that the motive to home-school stems from a desire to get back to nature, or get in step with the pioneers, or something of that nature. In these cases the wardrobe of the kids can be absolutely fascinating--though certainly quite sturdy! At times, however, the home-school look could simply be defined as nerdy. A general aversion to cultural norms, often encountered in the home-schooled community, and an indifferent attitude toward appearance can result in mismatched, highwater, unflattering fashion choices. I myself had a rather unfortunate fetish with hot pink sweatsuit items and elastic waist shorts in my earlier years. Alas, this look was completed by heavy bangs and scraggly hair constantly falling in my eyes...

What can I say. It's how terrible we looked in our younger years that makes us feel good about
ourselves as time progresses, and with it, our fashion sense. And if some kids really could care less about keeping up with the Joneses and wearing all the latest fashions, more power to them. Perhaps within their circle of friends these clothes are considered high fashion! Regardless, it all comes down the parents, what kind of attire they encourage, how much of a priority the kid puts on looking like everyone else, and so on. A whole group should not be generalized according to the fashion of some unique individuals.

Well, that's probably enough of my rambling for now. Thanks for putting up with it, especially since it ended up being far from "shocking" or anything like that.

To be continued: Pt. 2: Indoctrinated Oafs, The Naive Innocents, and Los Stupidos...

P.S...

2006-08-12T10:30:00.000-07:00

Muchas, muchas gracias to M. Tang, and Wolf & Wolfe for organizing the trip.

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

2006-08-12T00:01:00.000-07:00

I've never been a huge baseball fan...I love pro football and I've always been the one to snort derisively when people say baseball is the American sport. I saw it as an excessively lengthy game full of steroids, awkward uniforms, and either physically or egotistically bloated players who would jump at the chance to ditch a city and a team just to go rack up more dough in their outrageous salaries by playing for the accursed Yankees (this comment is directed in part to the traitorous Johnny Damon). The only redeeming aspects to baseball, I thought, were the dedicated fans, the hot dogs, and hanging out with my grandpa when he would come over to watch the SF Giants. I could stomach a few innings when he was around to pepper everything up with his jokes but that was about it.

That is, until the College Group (4:12) and High School Bible Study (a.k.a. Faith Factor) went to Raley Field to watch the Sacramento Rivercats take on the Nashville Sounds (lame name, huh?) last night. I've caught a few Rivercats games and they've always been great--mostly because of the people I went with and the enthusiastic fans, but it's been a couple years. I was happy to go.

The trip got off to a rather shaky start, however, when my brother, who drove some of us in our huge van, attempted to park. A middle-aged woman in a visor was standing in the mostly empty lot waving a couple of flags around madly in all directions. Apparently we were supposed to decipher from her wild waving where to go...and Rob guessed wrong. She must be very devoted to what she does, because she then promptly leapt in front of the van to stop us from (horrors!) going to the wrong side of the lot. Thankfully Robbie is swift with the wheel and swerved out of her way--but with my horrible reaction time, if I had been driving it's a toss-up whether she would still be alive today. Alas, I do not joke.

Anyway, so he dutifully turned and headed in the opposite direction, where he received more insane brandishing of the flags from a male staff person...and once again picked the wrong direction and had to move. Finally we parked, and noticed the visor lady standing across the parking lot, her hands on her hips, giving us The Eye. Women are very good at The Eye, and hers was quite impressive. Perhaps they could invest in some high-quality cardboard arrows? To prevent accidents and confusion and all? It's just a thought.

But everything picked up when we got inside and made our way to the Home Run Hill ($6 dollar seats on the lawn, baby. How's that for a flippin' sweet deal?). I immediately noticed the most appetizing scent of mustard and onions filling the air...

A bit later, I was walking around exploring with a couple of the gals when a lady started to belt out the National Anthem. What happened next was the most surprising thing I have witnessed in weeks. All around me most of the rush to the food stands died as people congregated toward the rails and stood silently listening, some even saluting the flag. When she finished the place erupted in cheers and clapping. I was dumbfounded. This is California, the State of Complaints! The place where people have acid tongues and are ever ready to shred the government and the country! The place where the college classroom is full of angry kids who seem to think that living in the US of A is one heckuva sacrifice, considering they have all the answers for fixing the world's problems, but apparently short memories for what they've learned about reality in other nations where life is not so soft and devoid of fear that one can sit around for hours at a time whining about how horrible everything is. Anyway, I know it was a small thing and everyone was more inclined to be gracious considering they were in good moods, but it was one of the most encouraging things I've seen in a while.

The game itself was a total, freakin' blast. By contrast to Major League Baseball, where it seems that the game is full of gargantuan egos like that of Barry Bonds or Derek Jeter, in the Minor Leagues it appears that one player is just about as small as the next and a good play can actually stand on its own two feet and is duly appreciated. Now, to be honest, I spent a good part of the game talking with the great people I was with, but everything, from the game itself to the cheers to the horrible 80s music was fun. There was a small town, community feel at the game that doesn't pop up too much in Sacramento. I mean, where else would you find "Rivercats Idol": the somewhat painful rendition of a song by two very brave contestants, one of whom actually sung...believe or not....Neil Diamond. It was the most courageous thing I have seen in a while. And where else but Sac would you find a necklace adorned dude whose clothes were stylishly decorated with...shredded trash bags? According to Robbie he's been picking up trash at Raley field for three years, and, as it turns out, leading the Home Run Hill fans in cheers. He got me psyched up!

And then of course there were the hot dogs. What is it about baseball that makes hot dogs taste so flippin' good? You could buy the most disgusting, shriveled little hot dog at a ball game and it would still be miles better than anything you could make at home.

Hot dogs and baseball go together like football and pizza. Or Tim and mullets.

Anyway, it was a beautiful night and a great day. I know a great part of that was due to the fact that I was with some of the coolest people around, but I'm going to try to give baseball a shot. And concede the fact that what with the history, the fans, the hot dogs, the community and all, it just might qualify for the title of "America's Sport."

BUT--tonight was the first 49ers pre-season game, and they actually won!!!! Last season (and the one preceding it) were exceedingly painful--I barely even watched the games (yes, I am a lousy fan) in part due to school and was very frustrated to miss nearly EVERY Monday Night Football game because of work, but I guess it couldn't have come during a better season. But this year, the question is: will they be able to win more than a couple games? Or will they go 1-15? Or worse? We shall see...

Well, I leave you with the following hot dog pic which I thought was just about as cute as could be:

THIS. DOG. WILL. BE. MINE.

Coming soon...

THE LIFE OF A HOME-SCHOOLER
Debunking the Myths: the Truth Behind the Legend

The Curse of "Luclee"

2006-08-10T15:47:00.000-07:00

I don't mind my name. But it seems to bring some rather unfortunate comments.

Today, for example: a very nice lady I work with told me as she was saying goodbye that she thought of me when she remembered her son's friend's dog whose name was Lucy. "He always used to call her Hoosy, so I was about to say, 'Bye, Hoosy!'"

Swell! I'm glad to know you have me mentally classified with a dog. I've actually heard the "I know a dog named Lucy," comment several times in the past. However, that's not as bad as one fall afternoon in my loathsome Stats class last year when one of my classmates told me she had just named a pig Lucy, which she then promptly dissected.

Uh..thanks?

Finally, there are the "My grandma was named Lucy," comments. Not a great move, especially coming from guys.

Oh well. Such is my "density," as George would say in "Back to the Future."

And I guess my name is not even Lucy anymore. According to some written instructions given me by someone very, very high up in management at work on Monday, I am now "Luclee."

Which is actually great because that would free me from all the "You got some splainin' to do," or "Lucy, I'm home!" exceedingly clever manifestations of wit.

And, in the end, there is always someone worse off. Like my old classmate "Fang Fang", or the girl whose name was announced at a friend's graduation: "Jessica McCowpie."

I feel for you, girl.

The Mullet Chronicles, Pt. 1

2006-08-08T23:25:00.000-07:00

A couple months ago I conducted a poll on this blog to determine which Nevins should inherit the mullet-wearing responsibilities after Emma finally relinquished hers. I mean, what with the two trailers and Robbie's shotgun and Andy's snakes and all, we're just a pit bull and a mullet away from attaining a quintessential look. So someone had to do it, and after a whopping 5 votes came in, my little brother Tim was crowned the new Mullet King. Shortly thereafter, I gave him a careful trim to start the process, and a month later the beginnings of a fine mullet are starting to show.
So, I shall now endeavor to post monthly updates of Tim's mullet and any observed reactions to it, beginning with this, Pt. 1 of The Mullet Chronicles.

On Sunday afternoon, chowing on BBQ chicken and watching "The Sandlot." He is quite comfortable having a mullet, by the way.

I've said before that Mel Gibson is the only man to ever make a mullet look good, but what with his current fall from glory and Tim's great style, Tim could potentially steal that claim to fame. Who knows? Anything is possible...