here's life

Last night I was driving with a friend, and it was a clear, chilly night, about midnight. We were in the north east part of town, it happened. I think I saw the sky glow blue for a second, but Jeff didn’t notice, but we both saw the lights and signs go black—the power went out for a second or two. We were approaching a stoplight, and when it came back on, it was yellow—is that part of the failsafe? Immediately, I thought that maybe it was an EMP or nuke or something. But it only seemed to effect things connected to the grid–other cars continued to drive. Of course, my car was unaffected, since it runs on heat and vacuum, not electricity. So, it must have been a power outage. If it had been a bomb or something, how would I have known? Maybe I should start carrying a dosimeter so that I know if we’ve gotten hit by radiation. Not that there is much one can do about it. But since I get all my news from webcomics, I wouldn’t know that the rest of the town was dead or had superpowers or anything until someone started poking fun at it. Or I show up to work on Monday,,,and no one is there.
Oh, that’s assuming I survived. So far, so good. That brownout didn’t even faze me!

Yesterday, you could say I spent most of my time in my apartment…
Or, you could say that I searched my town’s stores for latex spray foam.
I followed a guy who has wandered from the Dorlish Wood. He’s not sure what’s going on, but I think he’ll survive. He’s setting up the world for someone else to complete.
I had a snap of inspiration in church this morning. I realized that God is bigger than the emotional difficulties I find from working with imperfect people at my job. I can’t care yet not be hurt when I am failed—-unless I realize that it has nothing to do with the logic of the my feelings, and they are washed over by God’s over-arching plan and and Nature which can be flowing through me and is no longer limited by me. eh, something like that—you had to be there.
I visited the magnetosphere, and learned how radiation from space attacks earth when we let our guard down.
I watched some normal guys in California build spacecraft out of fabric, that they send to the edge of space. Oh, and they mentioned this, which was sent to Venus—yeah, that place where solder melts. You don’t want to live there. But this balloon’s twin made the trip and survived to do its mission.
Based on something I read Saturday, I was inspired to develop a new kind of lightswitch—one that wasn’t there. I’d use this. I got it sketched out as I tried to fall asleep—usually I go instantaneously, but I had drunk some coffee hours before. That was at evening church, which morphed into having some friends over to eat chili. We discussed making houses out ofconcrete domes. Also, I talked to a friend about finding wifes. I also traveled to the good old days and met Mel, A Real Programmer. Oh and I climbed 800 something feet on a stairs machine while Clive Staples chatted to me, all the way from the early ’40’s–talking aboutChristianity being more than more than just merely being a nice person. The earlier chapters about pretending to be Jesus gave useful insight I used in the evening church bible study on 1 John 1~2.
I straightened up my house a little. Made some bread. And went to church instead of going and eating with a friend from work. I don’t like when my religion get in the way of my relationships.
Today, I barely visited my apartment. And now it’s about time to float off to some other world. Maybe the future, which is here whenever I close my eyes..

Sorry for the delay. I didn’t feel like writing.
If you don’t already, I suggest subscribing to my RSS feed—get an RSS Reader, or use the Google Reader. But if you’ve been checking back everyday for the last months, you are more patient than I!

Anyway.
So, where was I? Oh, so this evening I was eating supper with a family from church, and afterwards, we were going to play a game or something. But, they didn’t have Pictionary, so I suggested they come over to my garage and help me take apart my car. They had been stuck in the house for a week because the youngest had chicken pox, and it was expected to spread. The youngest stayed with mom, and the rest came over. A week or so ago, I finally started to disassemble my old Mazda (poor Cecil!). I had spent about an hour, and taken off the two driver’s doors, some of the interiors, the driver seat, the back seats. So this evening they took out some more interiors–removed the glove compartment, the right mirror, the card that controls the blinker, the passenger’s seat. That was mostly the little kids. Meanwhile, there was a group working on the front. Took the hood off, and started to dig into the engine. The battery came out, the valve cover came off, the rocker arms out, part of the intake, some of the lights. I mostly struggled with the radiator. The car was mashed in the front, which pushed it all together a little more. I didn’t get it out until after they had all gone home. I’ve got the distributor off and the injector rail. There is an intake box that seems to be bolted from the bottom, so I think I need to take off the manifold and then I can get it apart more easily. I need to drain the oil before I get too deep into the engine, but that requires climbing under the car. Maybe I should have sent a little kid under there.
They seemed to enjoy it a lot, despite the cold. I think it is a pretty good evening activity. So, kids, find some screwdrivers, and 10 and 12 millimeter wrenches and sockets, and go to work! Until you get to a bolt that you can’t get started by yourself, you don’t even need to tell Mom and Dad!

To live your life
You’ve got to lose it
All the losers get a crown…

So, this evening, I lost. I lost at a couple different card games. Hand after hand. I’d make a few points, and my opponent would make more—even if I went out, forcing him to subtract his hand. Ok, a few hands I did well, good deal, good draw…but mostly, it was maybe this time, maybe this time…maybe a four of clubs…failure. I got the game figured out, I got my brain into a mode that intuitionaly sought out the right cards, right way of thinking. And then lost another hand. And I failed even at being a good conversationalist while playing. Then I played Clue. I’ve played this a couple times, and I know the basic idea…and it’s just a simple matter of deduction. Yeah, but I was clue-less. It’s like MasterMind—gaining information about specifics, by evaluating them in groups. I tried to write everything down, but I couldn’t figure out what to do with it. So, I failed.

I’m not used to failing. Usually, everything I do either works, or if it doesn’t, the circumstances hardly warranted hope that it would. Or, I just redefine success to match something that wasaccomplished. But I know people who’s lives are characterized by failure. Maybe not catastrophe, but chronic failure. And I thought, wow, if I feel this bummed about losing, at some games, for just an evening, imagine how I would feel after years of repeatedly failing at life. You get up, and get dressed (but there is the nagging suspicion that you wore the wrong thing), and then you brush your teeth, and fail, spilling toothpaste on the floor. You fail at cooking an egg, at making toast. At getting your car to run right. At missing traffic, at getting to work on time…and this continues all day. Everyday. For as long as you can remember. Just a string of things that didn’t quite work out for you. I’d be pretty unhappy. Probably not very friendly. Hard to deal with. Dull. Maybe even a hint of trying to fail, so at least I succeed atsomething.

I am glad that my life has been successful. Maybe not always as totally challenge-free as I could imagine, and in my weaker moments, wish for. But it’s been good, and it’s not all because Tobias is so awesome. God has given me this life. And since it is a gift, I should not look down on those who do not measure up to my standards. We soften the recoil against people by saying “maybe they are just having a bad day”—well, what about the people who have a bad week, month, years—so long they have given up hope of hope? Can I use the gift of things-working-out-for-me to help encourage those for whom things don’t work? Rather than thinking “maybe things would work better if you weren’t such an idiot” or “maybe if you were nice to be around, more people would like you”. I’ve had a glimpse of what that life would be like, and now I have a glint of empathy for those for whom the morning comes to herald in another day of unmitigated FAILURE.

Oh, and no, I don’t get a crown for losing a card game.

It appears that we can get rid of all the carbon that we have put in the air by just caring for the soil in our farmland. If we spread 1/2 of an inch of charcoal on all the farmland in the US, it would offset all the carbon humans released into the the atmosphere in 2006. Of course, in that form, it probably would not help our plants much, but if it were spread through the top couple inches of soil as humus, it would be very beneficial, increasing resistance to flooding and drought, as well as making the soil more fertile. Then we could drive all the SUV’s we wanted, and still not cause global warming. But, in order to do this to the farmland, we would need to shift how we farm—growing the soil, so it grows us food, instead of just making field factories crank out carbohydrate and protein nutrient paste. And this shift in philosophy would probably result in better health and wellness and less dependence on SUV’s anyway. We need to change something, because adding half an inch of carbon to the soil each year may be difficult.

Here is the math and sources behind my claim:
8.4 gigatonnes in 2006:
divided by
938 million acres of US farmland
divided by
208 kg/cu. meter: density of charcoal
divided by
90% carbon in charcoal
equals:
0.47 in deep

Of course, if the whole world helped out, instead of just the US farmland, we wouldn’t have to make our soil quite so much better each year.

The moralists have defined “words you aren’t suppose to use”. And in doing so, [we] create ways for people to purposefully violate rules about what is right, pure, and appropriate. We all know the words we aren’t supposed to know—at least by the time we are young adults—and they are “adult words”, words that kids aren’t supposed to be corrupted with, kids aren’t supposed to use or hear, which helps to spread them. Because all kids want to grow up and become adults. And using bad language, while we know it’s not “right”, it’s mature, and gratifying to finally be able to do things that only big people are allowed to do. Well, really they aren’t even allowed, but only adults are allowed to break the rules of what can be said. And the rules are pretty arbitrary.

Let’s take the word “snot”. Snot is gross, and sure, everybody has it (you swallow something like a pint a day), but it’s not usually something discussed in polite company. But it’s not a “bad word”. Just has it’s place, like any other word. But it is just a word, with a meaning (which may vary from state to state). But what if, we decided that sn*t was bad to say? If we defined it as something that “good people” didn’t say in front of kids, and the FCC didn’t let people say it on tv during the day. And you had to use other words to describe what happens when you blow your nose. It would take a while for people to catch on, but eventually, people would start using more. When they want to express their displeasure, or just rebel against being good, they would start sprinkling the sn__ word into their speech. Maybe quite liberally. “What the sn*t? That sn*t-faced sn*t and his sn*tty sn*tting can just sn*t off!” Yay, yet another amoral word made worthless by simply banning it, therefore increasing it’s misuse.

Now, this example was the corruption of a word that already existed, but the same would happen if you coined a new word, and gave it forbidden status as part of it’s definition:

iofdl: (ē-ō’fĭd-l) noun, something kinda bad, but this word has it in the worst connotation imaginable.
*DO NOT USE THIS WORD* However, you can use this similar word “eiffel”, to mean the same thing.
tr.v iofdling, iofdl
intr.v: iofdling, iofdled
adjective: iofdl, iofdlly

So, I don’t think I should use “foul language” (one exception: I quack at ducks, but they rarely respond so I’m probably doing it wrong). However, I don’t think forbidding certain arbitrary words is really helpful–it just gives people yet another rule to break when they feel like lashing out against all that morals stand for and the oppression they imagine moral standards bring.

…but while we argue about what words are good for children, they are dying from other things. The number one cause of death for children under 5 is fumes from inside cooking fires. Snot!

Watched Charlie Wilson’s War: Made me want to go kill some commies—or at least help war-torn countries build their school systems.
Watched Gone Baby Gone: Made me mad at parents who neglect their kids and made me want to help the kids grow up to be functioning adults instead of losers like their folks.
Watched Life Aquatic: Made me want to get better at making snide remarks—or at least better at dry and absurdist humour.

So, it was friday, and I hurried out of work, and jumped on the turnpike, heading for KC. My flight was leaving about 4 and a half hours, just enough time to get there. I got a call from my mom. My destination in Ohio was getting snow, and flights were being canceled. My dad was in one airport. My grandfather was stuck in Atlanta. Well, I figured I’d just keep driving, and see what I could make of it. But when I got off the phone with my Mom, I had a voicemail, saying that my flight was canceled. Ok, so I dropped off the next exit, paid my 30 cents, and headed for home. I could go back to work. I could try to find a flight from somewhere that would get me there. Sometime, maybe tomorrow….or…
I called up Aduma. “What are you doing this weekend?” “I’m on a mountain, snowboarding. Tomorrow we might go climb a 14er”. An hour later, I had more warm clothes packed, and was heading west instead of east. I drove. And drove. Western Kansas is pretty, but it is long. At dusk I passed a wind farm—fifty turbines spinning slowly. Then it got dark, and all I saw were the white lines. And then, suddenly, I was there, and found a bed, and went to sleep. Well, it wasn’t sudden, but I did have some meaningful times of prayer and singing while riding in my radio-free car.
We got up early, and headed for the mountain. Not quite early enough, it would seem. There was lots of traffic. Well, alot compared to my little big city. And when the right lane ended, all the selfish jerks were driving past everyone on the right, and then merging in, slowing the whole thing to a crawl. I didn’t have the nerve to be a jerk back, so didn’t pull into the right lane and stop. I did try to run over some people who merged in because I wasn’t fast enough to close the gap. Yeah, about that. My car does ok in Kansas, where there is lot of air, and not much hill. But, you get out to the mountains, and it has a hard time. It may have been trying to skip 1st gear, but it would take a while to get going. On the interstate it just annoyed the other drivers. But once we got onto the mountain trails, it became difficult to manage. It was too curvy and slick to go fast enough to keep the turbo pressure up to give the engine enough power to get up the hills. At one point we had to get out and push because the road was too slick and steep, and full throttle just made smoke. Eventually, we got to the parking lot—well, it was where we parked, since the road was blocked with a ten-foot pile of snow. We were a couple miles from the trailhead, and we gave up on climbing the mountain. Instead, we walked up the road (and railing on the road that was level with the snow) and the followed a snow-shoe path to a hill where we did dive-rolls until we were worn out and covered with snow. The trip down was much easier. Except that the car in front of us almost slid sideways into an oncoming car. They both stopped in time, and I was able to run into the drift at the edge of the cliff and stop before running into them. We passed a hydro electric plant with lots of wires, and not much water or drop. Not sure how they managed it. We got milkshakes at the bottom of the hill, in the little town. The lady who ran the milkshake place wasn’t as good at it as the normal lady. Even if she had been doing it all her life, she’d only have gotten a few dozen shakes done. But not to worry because Becky had some spaghetti for us that evening. We had a good time hanging out, and Discussing Important Stuff. Like a name for my car. It earned the title “The Bloviator”. It blows alot of black smoke. But also, in a more sophisticated sense, it looks like an impressive luxury car, and it says alot about driving, but when it come down to it, it didn’t go anywhere. So, it is pretentiously contentless. About that time, we decided to watch UHF. “oh, yeah…they really hate it when you do this!” Shake, Shake, shake.
Sunday we went to church, and heard another excellent message—that makes two out of two. We went for a walk in the afternoon, in the “Impressive Backyard”. I needed to leave, but stopped to get icecream with the others on the way out. But, it was late, and I’d be driving tired, and we wanted to climb another hill in the morning…so I didn’t leave after all. I called a coworker and said I wouldn’t be in. We spent a while wandering around downtown, while part of our party waited for the train. Then aduma and I got supper, and talked about Life. Now I know what to do with my future! I’m going to go live in the woods and eat squirrels. Maybe some rabbits, after the first frost.
Monday started out like another other day. Getting up before sunrise, and heading off—oh, wait, not to work, but to 10732 ft. ASL and then hiking up a snow packed path, and picking our way through unmarked drifts and boulders, and finally summiting at 11722 ft. The view, like all weekend, was excellent. I mean, Kansas is great. It has some nice flat stuff, and some good grass-covered hills. But, it’s not quite like looking down on angled slopes covered with snow-covered trees, and looking over and seeing peaks that are coated with snow. And gazing off the cliff, resisting the urge to jump, hoping that this time, I’ll learn to fly. It sometimes takes a little bit to get the hang of it. Then, it was back down into town, more of the perfect weather we’d had all weekend, and this time I really left. Once aduma got my car started, cranking while I pumped the primer pump. The Bloviator was off and running! I took a scenic route across eastern Colorado, on a two lane that flew past farms and paused in little towns. It was good to see the heart of the communities along the way. It was also a pretty lonely road. I think I went about a half hour without meeting another car. And I drove and I drove. With my sunroof open. And I thought, and I tried to stay awake, and I troubleshooted a kludge of two wireless routers that a friend uses to steal wireless from the neighbors and re-broadcast it. (unplug them both, and then plug them in in cascading order, Does it work now?)
It was dark by the time I got to the windmills this time. They each had a red light on top, and nearly all of them blinked in unison. There was one light that was about half a blink slow. I was driving in the dark and I looked up at the bright stars–so much brighter than in the city, and I inhaled, and smelled…snow. What’s that? Why do I smell snow when I look at the sky? It doesn’t smell like snow in my car if I look out the windshield, but the sky looks like snow smells. It made me think of this page which I read about 4 years ago. It suggest that humans can sense infrared, with lets us see the temperature of an object at a distance. Well, we all know we can tell if some thing is hot or cold without touching it—your skin can easily say “I am in the sun” or “I am in the shade”. But, no, this is something different—or at least feels different to me. That smell of rain or snow. I think it was that I was “seeing” the deep cold of space. Space doesn’t radiate much at all—-sure there are stars, but they are really small compared to the coldness of the nothingness of space. And why do I sense it most when I inhale through my nose? It could be that I am in the habit of associating smells with inhaling through my nose, or it could be it gives me a sample of ambient air to use as a reference. Suppose I have sensors in the skin below my eyes that can tell th e temp of an object straight ahead by checking for heat radiating from it. Now, it might get confused because there is also heat conducting out of the air, throwing off the sensor reading. But if I knew what temp the ambient air was, then I could calibrate the sensor to accurately see how much heat is radiating off the object I’m looking at. And since that is the only way that we ever notice this sense, we think of it as a smell. Maybe we all have special superhuman powers…but we don’t know it. I guess if we all have it, then it’s not superhuman. Oh well.
Well, gotta get to sleep so I can get up and save the world! There are a bunch of planes in a file at work that have my name on them.

So, I went to a retreat for a class at church (the introductory class that I hadn’t taken for the 2 years I’ve been going). We sang and prayed together and read from God’s own Word. It was a beautiful location down near Oklahoma, by the Ar-Kansas River. I didn’t come away with some huge breakthrough, or maybe I did. It’s the Self thing—everything is about me, and that attitude makes me compare mySelf to others. There is a nearly constant dialog in my head, comparing my actions to those of others, usually slanted so I’m the better one. This is unhelpful, and kinda shoots down the whole thing of being justified by Jesus’s righteousness. And it all stems from my Self being alive and well. Die, die, die!!! Can I let it die, so it’s not about “what’s in it for me”? Am I even a Christian if my core loyalty is to my Self?

Well, while my self is off dying, I went sledding this evening, With some friends. On the highway embankment. It was fun. The snow came this afternoon, and since it’s just about freezing, it won’t stay long. On the way home, I was reflecting on my future, and I had this crazy idea. Hanging out with a couple guys who run an ebay business can give you this sort of inspiration. We were together most of the retreat, and the trip there and back. Anyway. So, I could go back to raising chickens on pasture like we did back when. But from talking to one guy who is into natural food, it sounds like the market is kinda saturated. At the health food stores you can buy “free-range” chicken, and at Walmart you can get “No Antibiotics, No Hormones* Chicken” (*actually, as they note on the package, it’s against FDA regs to give chickens hormones anyway—but the No Antibiotics thing is real.) So. if people want meat with a healthy label, they don’t need me. Of course my chicken would taste better, and be “Fresh Range(tm)”–a phrase my dad coined. Sure the health-food-store-chicken is “free range” but that is accomplished much different from how my chickens would be raised. My chickens would be moved to new grass everyday—-they would have to stand in the grass, with the bugs. The “free-range” that I have seen raised commercially, while a step in the right direction, left something to be desired. They had a chicken house with LOTS of chickens in it (in the thousands) and then little doors in the sides where the chickens could come out and walk around in the sun—sometimes they had little fences up to keep the chickens in, sometimes they just let them wander. But, that’s kinda different from my chicken—but how would you tell from the package?
But some people would make the distinction. Those people might not be in my 1 hour radius. Which is where the crazyness comes in: I sell these chickens on ebay, pack them up and ship them to wherever people are who want chicken that “tastes like chicken.” To help show people how great these chickens are, I could video parts of their lives and put it on the internet. People could come watch “helmet cam” footage from my daily care of these chickens. I could even put the butchering process up–with a “graphic content” warning. Then people could feel like they know what these chickens are, and why they should get them shipped a thousand miles to their door. “Chickens raised in the Big Blue Room”. But, they would almost be raised on the internet. So, I’m not really shipping un-inspected meat across state lines! These chickens were raised in the youtube-o-sphere as much as anywhere else!

Yup, so that’s it! My niche is selling chickens to people like you, whether you live between here and the nearest Starbucks, or you live in Maine, you can login, order some chickens, and the UPS guy will bring them to you a couple days later.

So, I’m dredging through Treehugger, a trendy website about Green news, and I see this TED video and it mentions Polyface Farms in the caption. The presenter in the video spends a while talking about Salatin’s biosystem, and how he uses a group of species to work together to make a huge amount of food off of 100 acres. The presentation is about how plants do things to make us grow them, to make bees pollinate them, etc. We all do things to promote one species over another in an effort to promote our own species, and so the selection pressures favor certain behaviors. Rather than thinking that it’s people-versus-nature, we should notice–and build on–the fact that people and plants work together. That is how Joel works with the grass, cattle and other critters on Polyface Farm.

It makes me want to go back to raising animals. Maybe I’m forgetting all those mornings where I went out and walked in the chilly, wet, grass, dragging feed around. Maybe what I really want is have a “hobby farm”, and fund it with my real job. Or maybe I should follow in my family’s footsteps and get a small amount of land, raise as much as I can on it, then quit the industry and go farming full time. But, then I think of the bigger picture—am I getting stuck on a tiny aspect: growing things, and really I should be thinking about how I can help others, serve God, and make life better in general? Growing food would cause a symbiotic relationship with my customers who would get better value food than elsewhere (business sense says they would). And if I could figure out how to help others do the same thing, that would be a benefit to others. And if, while so helping others—-whether here, or somewhere that it rains more, or in Africa where there is just packed dirt—if I also help them discover God’s love for them, then my purpose in life would be complete.

But, before going and doing something drastic, like quitting my job and buying a farm and some cows..,,in India,,,maybe I should do what I can in my current situation—because just moving to Timbuktu won’t magically turn me into a great dirt-farming missionary. So, what is the next step? Do I get my own house in town so I have at least a little area to capture solar energy? Do I start doing more active evangelism? (more than just hoping they ask why I don’t strangle annoying people). Do I go haggle with the City to let me build a cheap house so that I can help everyone who needs one have an affordable place to live? Or do I just keep doing what I have to do, wash my dishes and laundry, clean up my house, and wait for Monday to go back to work? I could change the foodscape in my town, help dozens of people afford their own house, help a town in Senegal have clean water, and help transmit the Gospel by radio into closed countries.
But, I don’t really have time. Right now. What with work and all. And, I’ve got some webcomics to check back on before I go watch a movie.

I’m floating in a green sea.
I am up to my neck, but my head is out,
so I’m not drowning.
And there are no waves, so no struggle.
I’m not sure if there are sharks.
I don’t think there are sharks.
I hope there are sharks,
I don’t think they would eat me.
Friendly sharks.
If they ate me it wouldn’t matter.

It might be raining.
I can feel something splashing in my head.
More water in the green sea
I am in a green sea.

I’m pretty annoyed right now. While I was in church this evening, someone stole my radio. Out of my car. They messed up my dash some too. My CAR! The one that I work on making better and fixing up—it’s messed up! Part of me wants to find them and throttle them. Part of me wants to go buy the nicest radio, a grenade, and a little string. Or made a device that calls fire down from heaven whenever anyone touches my car. Then there’s the response that says, “Just make sure you never have anything that anyone would want, and they won’t take it.” I’m pretty close—I’d need to get rid of my…I don’t know, maybe my bread maker, my linksys router, or the butter in my fridge. People hate me when I have more stuff than them. If I didn’t have more stuff, they wouldn’t want to hurt me, and we could all be friends. By having a nice radio with an MP3 player, I deserve to get my radio stolen—it was just a kindly Robin Hood helping out the poor that I am oppressing by having nice stuff.
But it’s just annoying. Stealing radios is not a profession. It’s something bad. It’s not just “Well, he can’t make money any other way, so who can blame him?” No, he is a person who does bad things. Am I allowed to say he’s a bad person? It make me mad at the type of people who would do this sort of thing, the people who don’t have jobs, the people who can’t seem to “make it”. I kinda don’t want to help people who can’t make it because they do things like this.

Maybe I’ll get another radio. Maybe I’ll pull one with a tape deck out of my closet and install it. Maybe I’ll stick a little amp in there and just buy an MP3 player. Maybe I’ll just cover it up, and install switches and dials for my diesel/vegetable oil system. Maybe I’ll fix up the dash best I can, buy another radio, and behind the face, tape a $50 bill and a note asking the thief to please just take the money, and leave the radio…because it is wired to a grenade!
I’m sure there is a Christ-like response that I’m missing. Something about praying for the bad person who did this, and not storing up treasure on earth. Is there a fundamental difference between turning the other cheek and rolling over and playing dead?

Tenor:
Treasure in heaven
Treasures in he-ea-ven!
Lay up for yourselves,
Treasures in heaven.

Soprano:
Ask and you shall receive
Seek and you shall find
Knock and it shall be opened,
Be opened unto you
Be opened unto you.

I was hanging out with some friends the other evening, and something came up about international events, and Israel and Bush and peace in the Middle East. It was generally agreed that it was a bad idea for Bush to work for peace in that area, because peace wouldn’t happen, or Bush would be flirting with becoming the Antichrist. I have a tendency to challenge anything that is held as Orthodoxy, but doesn’t immediately commend itself to my reason, and reasonable understanding of the Bible. So, I challenged them on it, and then the discussion passed on while I dug through Revelation for a verse I thought maybe I’d heard about the Antichrist bringing peace. I didn’t find it right away. I did a quick search on the topic and came up with a couple articles. This one is rather critical of the Dispensational view that peace will heralded in the coming of the Antichrist. It also attempts to show that it’s scriptural support is nebulous at best. It seems that this connection between the Antichrist and peace is built on this verse in Daniel 9:

26″Then after the sixty-two weeks the Messiah will be cut off and have nothing, and the people of the prince who is to come will destroy the city and the sanctuary And its end will come with a flood; even to the end there will be war; desolations are determined.
27″And he will make a firm covenant with the many for one week, but in the middle of the week he will put a stop to sacrifice and grain offering; and on the wing of abominations will come one who makes desolate, even until a complete destruction, one that is decreed, is poured out on the one who makes desolate.”

See, by “week” it means “seven yeaSaturday, January 12th, 2008

I was hanging out with some friends the other evening, and something came up about international events, and Israel and Bush and peace in the Middle East. It was generally agreed that it was a bad idea for Bush to work for peace in that area, because peace wouldn’t happen, or Bush would be flirting with becoming the Antichrist. I have a tendency to challenge anything that is held as Orthodoxy, but doesn’t immediately commend itself to my reason, and reasonable understanding of the Bible. So, I challenged them on it, and then the discussion passed on while I dug through Revelation for a verse I thought maybe I’d heard about the Antichrist bringing peace. I didn’t find it right away. I did a quick search on the topic and came up with a couple articles. This one is rather critical of the Dispensational view that peace will heralded in the coming of the Antichrist. It also attempts to show that it’s scriptural support is nebulous at best. It seems that this connection between the Antichrist and peace is built on this verse in Daniel 9:

26″Then after the sixty-two weeks the Messiah will be cut off and have nothing, and the people of the prince who is to come will destroy the city and the sanctuary And its end will come with a flood; even to the end there will be war; desolations are determined.

27″And he will make a firm covenant with the many for one week, but in the middle of the week he will put a stop to sacrifice and grain offering; and on the wing of abominations will come one who makes desolate, even until a complete destruction, one that is decreed, is poured out on the one who makes desolate.”

See, by “week” it means “seven years” and the “prince who is to come” is the Antichrist in Revelations, and the “firm covenant” means “Peace in the Middle East”. That was the NASB version. The NIV uses “’sevens’” but with a note that an alternate reading is “weeks”.

So, there is some room for different interpretations, just from the Hebrew to English. But, it doesn’t say “And the Antichrist will bring peace between the Jews and the Arabs, and then will break off that peace” Not is so many words. And, if you read the chapter, this is a direct answer to Daniel’s cry to God about the devastation and destruction and disaster that came upon Israel as a just consequence of their sin. I really get the feeling that what Gabriel is talking about has to do with the destruction that Daniel is currently praying about. Not some event still in our future.

What does this mean for us? It’s not like I’ll try and egg on Hamas if I believe that only the Antichrist brings peace (albeit fake peace). We all want peace in the world, in our neighborhoods, and in those of the Jews. But, if Bush can’t be a peacemaker without us worrying about the sinister implications, something may be wrong. But we don’t have to interpret it that way. In this article, the author holds to the Peace==Antichrist view, but he sees peace as a good thing—if the Antichrist is coming, the Real Christ can’t be far behind.

I think it is safe to work for peace. Jesus says “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the sons of God”. And even if you somehow fulfill some prophecy in Daniel, that doesn’t mean you are THE Antichrist—-there is more to earning that title than just helping some people stop lobbing rockets at each other. We can work for peace for quite a while before we are in “danger” of bringing peace. Right now, “uneasy diffidence” would be way better than what we’ve got, and it still isn’t the dreaded “strong covenant” that we are supposedly warned about.

So, don’t believe that “peace is of the devil”, and therefore subconsciously (or even consciously) sabotage any efforts to make the world a better place. And go ahead and read the passages before agreeing with theology that doesn’t fit with themes like “Love your neighbor.”rs” and the “prince who is to come” is the Antichrist in Revelations, and the “firm covenant” means “Peace in the Middle East”. That was the NASB version. The NIV uses “’sevens’” but with a note that an alternate reading is “weeks”.
So, there is some room for different interpretations, just from the Hebrew to English. But, it doesn’t say “And the Antichrist will bring peace between the Jews and the Arabs, and then will break off that peace” Not is so many words. And, if you read the chapter, this is a direct answer to Daniel’s cry to God about the devastation and destruction and disaster that came upon Israel as a just consequence of their sin. I really get the feeling that what Gabriel is talking about has to do with the destruction that Daniel is currently praying about. Not some event still in our future.

What does this mean for us? It’s not like I’ll try and egg on Hamas if I believe that only the Antichrist brings peace (albeit fake peace). We all want peace in the world, in our neighborhoods, and in those of the Jews. But, if Bush can’t be a peacemaker without us worrying about the sinister implications, something may be wrong. But we don’t have to interpret it that way. In this article, the author holds to the Peace==Antichrist view, but he sees peace as a good thing—if the Antichrist is coming, the Real Christ can’t be far behind.
I think it is safe to work for peace. Jesus says “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the sons of God”. And even if you somehow fulfill some prophecy in Daniel, that doesn’t mean you are THE Antichrist—-there is more to earning that title than just helping some people stop lobbing rockets at each other. We can work for peace for quite a while before we are in “danger” of bringing peace. Right now, “uneasy diffidence” would be way better than what we’ve got, and it still isn’t the dreaded “strong covenant” that we are supposedly warned about.

So, don’t believe that “peace is of the devil”, and therefore subconsciously (or even consciously) sabotage any efforts to make the world a better place. And go ahead and read the passages before agreeing with theology that doesn’t fit with themes like “Love your neighbor.”

I was listening to a recording of “This American Life” a radio show that usually shows up on NPR. In the second Act, a guy in advertising tells about an ad campaign he worked on, with the State Department, trying to sell Americanism to the Muslim world. PR for democracy and freedom. The story is pretty funny, but depressing as well. From their focus groups, trying to determine what would work, a recurring theme was that Muslims can’t be free or at peace, because of the Jews. The Jews have Jerusalem, which the Muslims need. According to this radio show, until Islams control Medina, Mecca and Jerusalem, there won’t be peace.
Of course, if there was no Jerusalem, then there wouldn’t be any fighting over it. But our current foreign policy does not include turning the Middle East into a glass parking lot. It does include giving aid, arms and aid to buy our arms. And I hear that it is common for us to help both sides. That way, everybody is happy, killing each other, in a careful balance determined by the US government, taxpayers, and defense contractors. As a taxpayer, this doesn’t seem like a good use of the money I could use to, say, buy more pipe fittings (I’ve been doing that a lot lately). And it doesn’t look like it’s really helping either. If it’s not the Jews and Arabs, it’s Eritrea and Somalia, Or the Turks and the Kurds. The North Koreans and the South Koreans. The Green Bay Packers and the Chicago Bears. The Serbs and Croatians. We can continue to send men and money and missles over to try and keep people from killing each other. People who have been trying to kill each other for centuries, and don’t plan on stopping. Or, we could break up the fight. Send them to their rooms.
Here’s the plan: if there is a chronic war going on, we take one side, and send them to a space colony, built on the Moon, Mars or Australia. Which side? Well I’d leave the side that is less likely to turn on us. With their rivals gone, they’ll have more free time, and excess weapons. So, keep the side that will turn to more useful pursuits. But what gives us the right to arbitrate between two people groups, and send one to exile, away from their homeland? On the other hand, is that worse than giving guns to the other side? Besides, what if you had the choice: stay in your war torn homeland, probably a desert, and covered with unexploded ordinance…or, get to start over in a state-of-the-art housing facility, that produces everything you need, with a whole new planet to spread out on? Then there is the question of whether we could afford it—isn’t it expensive to build rockets? Yes, but war ain’t cheap either, and if we didn’t have to finance it in so many countries, we could devote more money to some new technologies that make space travel much cheaper. Some people are already working on it—these weekend spaceenthusiasts are making good progress with balloons. And I have a feeling, that once we started taking drastic measures like exporting a nation, the others would be encouraged to find ways to get along while they have a chance. Oh, and it would give space travel a purpose—right now, it’s a nifty idea, but there aren’t many practical reasons to waste huge amounts of effort to leave our quite livable sphere. But, if it could stop a war, that’s a financial impetus. I’m sure there is a place on Mars that looks just like Jerusalem

If you ever wondered how your cells find an infection, and what is going on, this is a complex video that shows the amazing work that happens:

http://multimedia.mcb.harvard.edu/anim_innerlife_hi.html

In other news, I keep buying plumbing parts for my car. It is surprisingly hard to find some parts—like a 3/4 by 3/8 NPT bushing. I changed how I’m going about it, so now I need to return some stuff.

Is it better to buy good tools (like pliers) or cheap ones for 1/4 the price? I don’t use them much.

As usual, my house is cold, I’m hungry and it’s time to head to bed.

Did you know that it is a common misconception that microwaves heat water by vibrating their bonds with a resonant wave? You don’t get much resonance from liquid water with all the molecules bumping into each other. Actually 2.4GHz was chosen because it wouldn’t interfere with existing radio transmission. At least so says this guy, among other things:
howthingswork.virginia.edu

It’s been a while since I was home. I spent the week before Christmas working, but rather than being at my regular location, I was in Connecticut, “coordinating” with our customer. Unfortunately, many of the people I would have needed to talk to were already enjoying their vacation with their families. They have to use-or-lose their vacation by the end of the year, so there was a good bit of that going on. Seems to me that like cell phones, companies would do well to offer “Rollover Vacation” since leaving for the last couple weeks of the year may not be most fun for the employees, nor may it be the most convenient for the company. I’m glad my company lets me store vacation from year to year.

After working all week, and battling a sore throat, I packed my items as well as I could, and drove my rental car back to the airport from which I came. But, instead of boarding a plane, I barely made it onto a bus heading to the railroad station. I needed quarters, so I ran to the snack counter in the airport, got some change, and hurried back to the bus, where the driver was still waiting.

At the railway station, I pulled out the ticket I had had mailed to my hotel room, and waited for the train south. It arrived, and I was whisked toward NYC, the automated voice announcing each station as we approached. Long before we got to Grand Central Terminal, we went underground. There we bumped along in the dark, surrounded by dimly-lit arches and pillars which held up New York City. I was struck by how much permanent infrastructure there is, supporting the world as we know it.

Eventually we reached the end of the line, and I followed the crowds toward the surface. I came out in a huge, ornate room, with tiny lights in the ceiling, as far away as the stars. It seems I have seen this important part of Grand Central before—probably in a movie.

I bought a 6-ride pass, and headed to the shuttle. A little train that went to Times Square, and then, as I found out, right back again. (I misinterpreted the signs, and jumped back on the shuttle I came on) So, I took an extra round trip back to Grand Central. Then I found the “3″ train,,,and went north instead of south. I actually set foot top-side in New York City, crossed Broadway, and went back underground. Finally, I got to Penn Station, and rushed over to the Amtrak station, printed my ticket, and found my gate. It was 9:03, and the train left at 9:09, but it seems it was slightly delayed—there were still masses of people waiting to get on.

I found a seat—it was like an airplane, but quieter, roomier, and I didn’t have to turn off my cell. And I didn’t have to fasten my seat belt, and there was a water faucet with cups at the end of the car. Amtrak is a very comfortable way to travel. People talking in hushed tones, or sleeping, and the countryside sped by. I think it was faster than a car. Once again, the huge amount of ancient infrastructure surprised me: all along the way, huge rusted towers held electric wires that feed the train.

Eventually I moved up a couple cars so I would be near the short platform at my destination, and then we pulled up, and I got off. I walked into the parking lot, got into a car I had never seen before, and drove off to the church, where my cousins and their cousins were having Christmas dinner.

It was interesting to blend in with people, a few of whom I had met before, and many who were new to me. But, we had a good evening of exchanging gifts, playing games, and discussing deep subjects of citizen responses to violence and safety.

It was late in the evening, and I finally was “home” to a place I knew, after jumping from ship to ship since 5:30 am.

The rest of the weekend was fine, drove to Delaware, and ate food, and again exchanged gifts (I liked the white elephant method used in DE better than the PA family version). Monday we went to the beach. We walked in the sand, toward some towers at the end of the beach. They looked closer than 10 miles away. But we walked and walked and didn’t seem to get much closer. Sim ran down to them and back. He found a green plastic item that seemed to be a “pull ring to light fuse” pyrotechnical device. Garret found some rocks and shells. I didn’t get any sand because I had already collected some a few miles up the beach. And I wasn’t carrying a ziplock.

Tuesday was Christmas day, and Uncle Charlie invited me and Jonathan to take part in their morning ceremony. It was interesting to see a real Christmas for the first? time. And I kind of understand it now. It is really exciting for the kids. And we read Luke 2 again (while we were waiting, Jonathan suggested we read Luke 1 so we would know the background). I’m not sure what I’ll do when I have kids. Will we celebrate Christmas? I guess if I’m going to start, I could before I have kids. I’m sure I won’t tell my kids that Santa Claus is real, but what about a tree? Seem still too pagan for me. Gifts aren’t very pagan, the devil didn’t invent giving. Oh well.

Once there was a guy sitting on his front porch, when a car screeched to a halt and the passengers yelled out the window “A flood is coming! Jump in and we’ll drive to the city!” But, the city was not where he wanted to be. He knew that once he got there, he would get sucked into it’s petty ways and would forever mimic the artificial bustle of it’s manufactured reality. “No” he replied to the carload, “I’m waiting on the Lord!”

A few hours later, the water came. A trickle at first, and then the waves started to lap at the edge of the porch. So, he moved his belongings into the attic, and nailed cross braces on the walls. He was sitting cross-legged on a chair when a boat pulled up to his second story window. “Hey! A survivor! Quick, get in! We’ll take you to safety!” They say beggars can’t be choosers, but this boat had clearly seen better days. “No thanks” he replied, “I’m waiting for the Lord to SAVE me!” The boat pulled away, but it was not out of sight before the water that had been filling the hold caused the engine to seize, throw a rod, kill the occupants, burst into flames and sink into the murky water.

He had just climbed onto his roof when a barge came by. It was swarming with lawn chairs, and people. Someone on the barge spotted him through the haze. “Dude! There’s a guy on that roof! Hey Roof Dude! You wanna come join us! This is the most awesome (*)^*(& you ever seen! It’s a great way to travel in a flood!” Umm, yeah. “No thanks,…Dude!” He shouted back to the floatilla. “I’m going to see what God has for me.” “Whatever, that’s awesome dude! On a roof! Hey, let’s go join him!” “Dude! we’d get wet, dude.” “Yeah, couldn’t risk that, dude….” They faded off into the distance. He finished tying his safety cable to the stovepipe.

He was standing on the left side of his roof to balance it, when a helicopter hovered overhead. They threw out a rope and were yelling something down. Seems they wanted him to grab the rope. He was just about to when he blinked and realized that the ‘copter was missing a blade! The vibrations would tear it apart any moment! Maybe they were yelling for help! He motioned to them to jump out, but they thought he was just waving them off. “Well, we’ve got others to save!” said the pilot, and he tipped the nose down to fly off…when the rotor hit the tail and the whole airframe shattered. The flaming schrappnel whizzed past as he threw himself flat on the roof. He stood up, and beside him a smoking turbine blade was impaled in the roof. “Thank you Lord, for saving me!” he said, looking up a the empty sky.

For a couple days, he floated on his rooftop. On top, he struggled to keep his house balanced by moving from side to side. Underneath, God guided his frail craft around the sunken trees that reached up to pluck it from the surface. And often, he was acutely aware that God was saving him, and all would be well, even if he drown.

On the morning of the fifth day, he felt a tremor ripple through his knees. The house had hit something. He jumped to the other side of the roof, and the scraping stopped…for a moment. And then with a THUD, the house stopped moving altogether. The impact made him lose his balance, his feet slipped, he fell over backwards, hit his head on the stove pipe, and lay motionless.

He saw a light, and opened his eyes. It was beautiful, and blinding. The light was at the crest of a range of mountains. He became more aware of his senses, the breeze touching his face, the smell of spring flowers that dotted the green hillsides of fresh grass, the sound of a brook trickling nearby, and a hunger…for food! Like he hadn’t eaten in a day and half. Wait, I’m not supposed to feel hunger here! His hand went instinctively to his head, and he felt a scab. Small enough that he realized he had collapsed, not so much from the blow, but from exhaustion. “Thank you Lord, for saving me!” he whispered into the wind. Then, he loosened up his safety rope, and swung into the attic where he found some peanut butter and jelly, and on the strength of that food he spent the next 40 days digging a new foundation under his house, planting a garden on the hills nearby, and catching fish in the brook. It was the perfect spot, and he was glad that he waited for God, instead of taking any of the almost-optimal options.
THE END

Sometimes the most unpredictable circumstances make me look cool (the end all in life?). Last week, I showed up for Sunday evening service, and we hung greens instead—-and I produced, from my trunk, a stapler and a roll of duct tape. Bryan was impressed—but it really was pretty expected: I’ve been working on stuff, so I’ve been storing tools in my trunk. These items were just the beginning. But, that set the stage pretty nicely for tonight.

For some reason, instead of setting up coffee, Bryan brought cider this evening—and when I got up to where we meet, he had carried a microwave and table up there to heat up the cider. “Would this be better with some brown sugar and cinnamon?” I ask. Yeah do you have some? “In my car” I run out and return with a bag of sugar and cinnamon—with a hint of clove. See, I collect sand samples for somebody in this group, and I had a bag of sand from a recent trip. So, I thought to myself, What if I gave her a bag of brown sugar? Would she notice? So, I got some brown sugar, put it in a clean ziplock and then added cinnamon and cloves. I was going to put in some hot cocoa powder, but it didn’t look like it would add the right colors to make it look like dirt. Turns out, I’d forgotten that soil collector wasn’t going to be there tonight,,,,but it also turned out we had a use for the fake dirt. The funny thing is, it made me look like I had a magic car—and it wasn’t because I’d thought ahead or anything.

What if your entire life was like that? Whenever you did something, it would turn out that it was the best thing that you could have done. Hopefully you wouldn’t just use it to make yourself look awesome, but unlike me, you would use it to bring glory to God, who is the one who sets everything up for us. Sometimes it seems my life is being run for me by God, and it really is a good feeling to know that what happened was totally not my doing, but God’s and it turned out better than I could have managed. Like that time that I wanted a webcam, and then one showed up in the dumpster behind Quad 3 soon afterwards. It made me feel warm inside to think that God was looking out for my needs and wants. Or that time I quit my job on a Friday, drove to MO because I didn’t have anywhere to live anymore…and Monday I had another job, that paid twice as much—but didn’t start for a month. A month that I needed for family stuff.

God often operates with miracles that are “little”, just nudges of the probability distribution so that the “right” thing happens. Not like He’s not “allowed” to operate outside of the natural order, but sometimes He makes it almost fit into the explainable. And if we aren’t watching for it, or talking to Him about it, we might miss it altogether. And it won’t always be something that makes me look cool, but in the end, it will be better. I think there is a verse about it somewhere: God causes all things to work together for good for those who love God and are called according to His purpose.

So, keep your eyes peeled for God at work—even if it’s something as “small” as knowing the correct kind word for the situation, or turning a surreal shenanigan into a delicious drink.

I’ve been running for the last couple days–spent Thanksgiving in Hutchinson at Fjord and Grey’s parent’s place. Along with about 20 LeTourneau people. It was a great time. We sat around and talked, we ate good food, we stood around a bonfire while the first snow fell. We wired and sheetrocked a basement room. We played Polish Pingpong. We tried to put together a 2128 piece jigsaw puzzle. We played Settlers (I like Seafarers better than Cities and Knights). We played Munchkin (including a 3-hour game where everyone made it one point away from winning). We played a quick game of Axis & Allies—the dice bombed Germany pretty bad. Over and over. We went to church, and they sang “Dem Bones”. Then, as I was getting my car to start after everyone else had left, (sitting for days in the cold without running made it difficult) someone called, saying they were playing frisbee in Wichita, in half an hour. I got there after everyone had warmed up. Then I went to the Sunday evening service (instead of singing and praying together and reading from God’s Word, we hung Christmas ornamentation), and then I went to “a restaurant” with some friends. And it took forever, and the burgers were burned on the outside, and either raw or overcooked on the inside. I ordered a Philly Cheesesteak, which was quite delicious. So I was almost the only one to pay for my meal.

Getting home late (for the first time since Wednesday afternoon), and to bed even later, I was loath to get up in the morning, and as I was about to leave, I realized I had class—in 5 minutes. After class (which was hard to stay awake in) I worked a bit, and went home…only to soon leave for play practice and set setup. I got home, got to bed late, and got up, went to class. At lunch time, I was relaxing at my desk, chewing on a peanut butter sandwich, and someone asked me to come to a meeting. They were rehashing some plan on how they were going to set some system up. So, I ate while I listened to people make suggestions, some useful, some well meaning. Before grabbing some coffee and rushing back to class, I helped make some mark-ups to a document I’d made last week to capture the new decision. These markups made it similar to our original plan that had been modified by an email after I’d sent in an email asking for what seemed best at the time. By the time I got back from class, they had done some experimentation, to see if it was possible (brilliant!) and found that, no, they’d better stick with a variation of last week’s plan. I’ve had my fingers in all the plans, so it doesn’t matter which one wins out–I’ll still be the one who thought of it, or drew it up, or worked it out, or something. Oh, and it doesn’t matter who thought of it, as long as it works. Yeah, getting this planned right is important, but something, anything, is important too. Now. Last week. I don’t really care how it is, my requirements are simple and well known, just make it work.

With coffee, I could sit in class without my consciousness flickering in and out. I was doing stuff, and doing it fast! Almost as fast as the guy next to me who spent half the time reading webcomics! When I got home it was about time to go help build set for the play, which we did, quite successfully, and now I am home…with nothing to do for the rest of the week but dishes to wash…and clothes to sort out, and a bathtub with potting soil on the sides because the drain doesn’t hardly drain (it was like that before the potting soil!) and I don’t want to bring the plumbers in because they might get caught in the drifts of stuff in my apartment, oh, and my rent is going up, so I need to go buy a house but maybe I shouldn’t maybe I should just go rent a house, and get a roomate but no, there isn’t hardly anyone in Wichita that I would want to room with. So, instead, I made an egg quesadilla, and drank some milk, and now I need to go to bed. So I can get up and go to class, so I learn how to do some pretty cool things at work that may save our department from the approaching trainwreck. It’s pretty much like we bought some baby chickens, and the pens for them are on backorder. And we are sure that the heat lamps will get here any minute…

That’s how big the Black Locust thorn was, that was buried in my index finger, at about a 45 degree angle. I got it Saturday. I was playing disk golf, and I threw a bad shot teeing off for hole 4. It landed in the edge of the woods. I’m usually a stickler for throwing it where it lies, and it was behind some thorn-covered saplings. So, I tried to do a short swing, but didn’t, and a thorn met my finger. I pulled out the little pieces that I could reach. After hole 5, we pulled out the first aid kits, and I tried with a tweezers but couldn’t get it out. So I dressed it, and went back to playing. I made some pretty lucky shots with my off-hand.
I tried repeatedly to dig it out, bought some tweezers—for ultra-fine work, tiny eyebrow hairs, ingrown hairs and huge, sharp, broken-off tree thorns. They weren’t fine enough, so after digging and poking, and cutting and snipping, I got out a stone from a bore-sizing hone, and sharpened the tweezers to a nice point. Finally, Monday evening, I got a good grip on it, and pulled…out. Ouch! But is was relieving to finally be free. It didn’t really bleed. I poured some more alcohol over it, and bandaged it up with triple antibiotic. Now, it hurts slightly if I poke it right. Based on how much room I guess is in my finger, I wonder if it didn’t hit the bone. Whatever, I’m glad it’s out. It has sealed over pretty good, and doesn’t seem to be infected. I guess keeping it alcohol’ed and antibiotic’ed was good. Also, the thorn made a nice tight plug.

A few professionals were talking about success: the first guy said “I think my highest success would be if I were invited to a private conference with the president in the Oval Office.” The second guy said, “No, I’d feel I’d really arrived, if I were in a conference with the president, and the phone rings, and he doesn’t answer it.” The third guy says, “No, you’ve got it wrong, success would be if the phone rings, the president answers it, and says, ‘It’s for you’”
“That’s still pretty short sighted,” says the fourth guy. “I’d be successful if I type a letter into the search bar, and Google Suggest finishes my name for me.”

This was lifted from a book on success by John C. Maxwell. Well, the first three guys were. And John’s point was that success was a journey, not some destination.

Yup, it’s been just under a month, and water came out of my bathroom ceiling again. The good news is the plumbing upstairs is 97% effective. And this has only been going on since April. Actually, there were a couple months there that I didn’t see much sewer water at all. But, alas, they haven’t fixed it, and they don’t know what to do. Last month, they asked that I call the emergency pager number next time, while it is still wet and dripping, so they can trace it. Yeah, like I spend the day sitting in my bathroom waiting for the soggy ceiling to collapse! I suggested they drill a hole in the ceiling so it would drain into my toilet instead of the floor, but they must not have noticed such a brilliant idea. Instead of helping them out with it, I taped up a plastic bag, and it did its job quite well. I came home today, and the bag was on the floor, but the pint of water in it didn’t appear to have spilled. I poured it into a jar, and took it to the office with a note of explanation. Assured them that I was disappointed, and found it unacceptable. I sort of feel bad leaving a jar of urine on the desk in the office, but it was sealed inside—instead of all over my floor. I really need to get rough with them, but I don’t have the emotional stamina for it. “Enclosed is a sample of the sewer water that fell from my ceiling. This is a typical volume and color.” Maybe thinly veiled condescension will be effective. Or maybe I should call the Health Department.

So, I opened a can of Salmon this evening, and was going to eat it with a fork, but Bolt suggested that I check the internet for recipes. I chose this one because I had avocados in the fridge.

Here’s the recipe:
Grilled Salmon with Mango-Avocado Relish
For the mango-avocado relish:
*1 1/2 avocados
*1/3 cup fresh lime juice
*1 1/2 cups diced mango
*1/3 cup diced red pepper
*1/3 cup chopped scallions

For the salmon:
*1 Tbsp canola oil
*6 salmon fillets,4 to 5 ounces each
*salt to taste
* freshly ground black pepper

You chop up the stuff in the relish and grill the salmon.

Well, I didn’t have any mangos, but I did have an apple, so I chopped that. No lime juice, or even lemon juice, so I put lemon pepper on the salmon. I’m not sure if it is supposed to be chopped red pepper or peppers, but since I had neither, paprika seemed close enough. I had to look up “scallions” —turns out they are green onions. I’ve got onions I could chop…wait, freeze-dried chives are green and onion-like!
I figured frying the salmon in butter would be better than oil, and I sprinkled on some salt and pepper and lemon pepper. Maybe too much pepper, now that I’m eating it.

It turned out pretty good, but I think I would order a different interesting menu item next time. It’s way better than if I’d just eaten it as it comes out of the can.

I doubt that this is going to become a cooking blog.