All I did this weekend was put up Christmas lights--no, not at the church, they have skilled people doing it there (and you can bet our pastor was not hanging any green himself!). Jodie has gotten us into a "Christmas Vacation" style competition with several others in our cul-de-sac (notice the classic movie reference and pointed avoidance of the current "Deck the Halls," which apparently sucks), so our past endeavors of putting up a Christmas flag have been expanded with lighted trees, a sleigh, wreaths, candle-lit windows, and--worst of all--lights strung on the house itself. Jodie used to not let me change our floodlights or clean the gutters--necessary activities--because she didn't want me 15 feet in the air; now I'm climbing about 30 feet to snap "icicle lights" on the arch over our front door with nothing to break my fall except pavement. Oh, and Jodie tells me "I'm right here," but when I start down the ladder she's inside decorating a ground-level Christmas tree! Which is probably for the best, since what could she do if I did fall? Hear my last words? They would almost certainly not be a declaration of love to the end; more likely it would involve screaming, curse words, and if lucidity was still present to any degree, a comment regarding "I hope this was worth it!"
Now, in addition to risking my life for a wife without the decency to stay outside and possibly hear my last words, or at least be prepared to call 911, I have to deal with all the cliches I was previously able to avoid--namely those involving how entire strands go out because one bulb has a bad attitude, and then you have to try to figure out which one it is, and God forbid there be TWO out, because then you're COMPLETELY up the ladder (a new metaphor which has more resonance with me than "up the creek"). All of the above were part of the package deal this weekend, including with two new pre-lit trees that had multiple bulbs out. Jordan in particular was always upset that we did not decorate more for Christmas, but did he help out when we finally take his suggestion? Of course not! Except to say, helpfully, "Dad, if you fall of the ladder and don' t die, are you going to try again next year?" What, he's testing my commitment, or resolve, or perseverance in the face of adversity? (I, obviously, responded, "No, son, I'll make you do it.").
I did have an extremely proud moment with him this weekend: his class was assigned a book report on a "holiday book," which I think was supposed to mean Christmas. Jordan, completely on his own, decided to read a biography on Martin Luther King Jr. for his report. I know I've told him that King is one of my heroes, but for him to go so against the grain in this fashion--well, it was awesome. Of course while working on the report he was leaning back in one of our new chairs, tipped it over, and cracked the top back beam right off, but given his recent work he was able to remind me of the importance of non-violence. (See, if he was doing a Christmas book I might have been forced to follow Herod's example and slay all boys between the ages of 9 and 7).
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Why I'd Make a Better Boyfriend than Jack Bauer
From January 2007, aka Season 6
With the re-entry of '24' into our lives, Jodie has again been hinting at her crush on Jack Bauer/Keifer Sutherland. This crush seems to deepen and intensify with each passing season, starting (I imagine) as a private daydream in the first season before moving into more subtle expression in seasons 2 and 3 (primarily demonstrated in her obvious disdain for his romantic interests who were "not good enough for him") and then direct vocal expression in seasons 4 and 5 ("Now that's a man who can mow the lawn" being a prime example). Last night she informed me that Walmart had a great poster of Jack she wants for the house (I imagine the bedroom, though I did not let the discussion proceed to that point), which is a line I will not cross. If she were a teenybopper, posters are fine, but they are not appropriate for middle-aged wives (I do not use the descriptor "middle-aged" prejoratively, as it applies to everyone reading this email--some more so than others).
In the interest of defending my relative lack of adrenaline, testosterone, and "studliness," I would like to make the following ten observations about/comparisons to Jack:
1. Women want security. Women--and by this I mean Jodie--seem to think that Jack is strong, confident, and skilled enough to offer them this security. However, I would like to point out that I have not had a wife killed by a woman I was having an affair with, my children have not been kidnapped repeatedly in one day or caught in traps around wild cougars or taken hostage in airports, and no one in my family has been anywhere near gunfire, much less nuclear explosions. I think it is obvious that being around me makes a woman and her children much safer than being around Jack.
2. Jodie gets concerned by my desire for "alone time" and the fact that I am sometimes gone at night (e.g. for orchestra rehearsal, concerts, etc.). How would she feel if I had to "disappear" for 18 months to avoid prosecution from the Chinese government, or if that same government kidnapped me for 20 months, or if I had to repeatedly work 24 hour days without a chance to call and check in with her, much less meet her and the kids for dinner?
3. Where are Jack's loyalties? I can promise you that if Jodie wanted to kill someone who had hurt her, even though the president had pardoned that person, I would not shoot her.
4. Coffee is my strongest addiction. As opposed to Heroin.
5. Most of my friends are still alive, thus sparing me from PTSD due to repeated important losses (depression due to mid-life crises and feelings of inadequacy is up for grabs, though).
6. I love being around my children and spend much of my time playing with them, helping them with homework, and reading to them. Jack does not know where his daughter is, though that is probably for the best (see point 1).
7. My calls to Jodie are rarely interrupted by calls from the president (though his people may be listening in--we can't be sure).
8. My speaking range is more varied than husky whisper to strained shouting. One may be great for the bedroom, but you'd probably get the other during arguments!
9. Jack's wife can never collect life insurance, because the insurance company will never believe he's dead ("He could come back to life any minute now!")
10. Jodie thinks I'm lax on housework? Try arguing that with Jack: "I know you've worked 24 straight hours, been tortured repeatedly and killed at least once, had to shoot several people and lost your best friend either through death or double-cross, but these dishes won't wash themselves." And doesn't that negate Jodie's central obsession with Jack, that he can "mow the lawn"?
Steve, help me out on this! Jack's not as wonderful as these women seem to think! We don't have that difficult a standard to live up to!
My next task will be determining why I am a better catch than anyone who has "Mc" before their name (e.g. "McDreamy," "McSteamy," "McDreary," whatever else). As soon as I get my triple-grande nonfat Caramel Macchiato and put on some Nickel Creek...
With the re-entry of '24' into our lives, Jodie has again been hinting at her crush on Jack Bauer/Keifer Sutherland. This crush seems to deepen and intensify with each passing season, starting (I imagine) as a private daydream in the first season before moving into more subtle expression in seasons 2 and 3 (primarily demonstrated in her obvious disdain for his romantic interests who were "not good enough for him") and then direct vocal expression in seasons 4 and 5 ("Now that's a man who can mow the lawn" being a prime example). Last night she informed me that Walmart had a great poster of Jack she wants for the house (I imagine the bedroom, though I did not let the discussion proceed to that point), which is a line I will not cross. If she were a teenybopper, posters are fine, but they are not appropriate for middle-aged wives (I do not use the descriptor "middle-aged" prejoratively, as it applies to everyone reading this email--some more so than others).
In the interest of defending my relative lack of adrenaline, testosterone, and "studliness," I would like to make the following ten observations about/comparisons to Jack:
1. Women want security. Women--and by this I mean Jodie--seem to think that Jack is strong, confident, and skilled enough to offer them this security. However, I would like to point out that I have not had a wife killed by a woman I was having an affair with, my children have not been kidnapped repeatedly in one day or caught in traps around wild cougars or taken hostage in airports, and no one in my family has been anywhere near gunfire, much less nuclear explosions. I think it is obvious that being around me makes a woman and her children much safer than being around Jack.
2. Jodie gets concerned by my desire for "alone time" and the fact that I am sometimes gone at night (e.g. for orchestra rehearsal, concerts, etc.). How would she feel if I had to "disappear" for 18 months to avoid prosecution from the Chinese government, or if that same government kidnapped me for 20 months, or if I had to repeatedly work 24 hour days without a chance to call and check in with her, much less meet her and the kids for dinner?
3. Where are Jack's loyalties? I can promise you that if Jodie wanted to kill someone who had hurt her, even though the president had pardoned that person, I would not shoot her.
4. Coffee is my strongest addiction. As opposed to Heroin.
5. Most of my friends are still alive, thus sparing me from PTSD due to repeated important losses (depression due to mid-life crises and feelings of inadequacy is up for grabs, though).
6. I love being around my children and spend much of my time playing with them, helping them with homework, and reading to them. Jack does not know where his daughter is, though that is probably for the best (see point 1).
7. My calls to Jodie are rarely interrupted by calls from the president (though his people may be listening in--we can't be sure).
8. My speaking range is more varied than husky whisper to strained shouting. One may be great for the bedroom, but you'd probably get the other during arguments!
9. Jack's wife can never collect life insurance, because the insurance company will never believe he's dead ("He could come back to life any minute now!")
10. Jodie thinks I'm lax on housework? Try arguing that with Jack: "I know you've worked 24 straight hours, been tortured repeatedly and killed at least once, had to shoot several people and lost your best friend either through death or double-cross, but these dishes won't wash themselves." And doesn't that negate Jodie's central obsession with Jack, that he can "mow the lawn"?
Steve, help me out on this! Jack's not as wonderful as these women seem to think! We don't have that difficult a standard to live up to!
My next task will be determining why I am a better catch than anyone who has "Mc" before their name (e.g. "McDreamy," "McSteamy," "McDreary," whatever else). As soon as I get my triple-grande nonfat Caramel Macchiato and put on some Nickel Creek...
Screenplay
Batman versus Spiderman
By Jordan and Michael Castellani
Batman and Spiderman face off, glaring at each other across the road. It's a dark night, rain pelting down on the heroes as they appraise each other and prepare for the epic battle. There is a sense of foreboding and destiny as the ultimate fight between good and evil prepares to commence.
SPIDERMAN: What's your name?
BATMAN: (angrily) No, the bad guy doesn't say that!
SPIDERMAN (more ominously): What's your name?!
BATMAN: I'm Batman (mumbles incoherently)
SPIDERMAN: I'm gonna throw you away!
BATMAN: You can't throw me away, I'm the good guy!
SPIDERMAN: I'm gonna throw you away! What's your name?
BATMAN: No, I'm gonna throw you away!
SPIDERMAN: What's your name?
BATMAN: I already told you. You're going to jail, Spiderman.
SPIDERMAN: No I not. I'm wearing a life vest.
BATMAN: You're wearing a what?
SPIDERMAN: I'm wearing a life vest! See?
BATMAN: Why are you wearing a life vest? There's no water.
SPIDERMAN: What's your name?
BATMAN: Stop asking me that!
SPIDERMAN: I gonna kill you.
BATMAN: No, I'm gonna kill you and put you in jail.
SPIDERMAN: No I not. I'm the bad guy.
BATMAN: I know, that's why you're going to jail.
SPIDERMAN: No I not. What's your name?
BATMAN: You're the bad guy. You're going to jail.
SPIDERMAN: I daily and daily the bubbles.
BATMAN: What?
SPIDERMAN: The bubbles! The bubbles!
BATMAN: What are you talking about?
SPIDERMAN: What's your name? I'm wearing a life vest.
BATMAN: Forget it. (turns and dejectedly walks away)
Fade to black
Credits
Based on a story conceived by my sons in the back of the car
By Jordan and Michael Castellani
Batman and Spiderman face off, glaring at each other across the road. It's a dark night, rain pelting down on the heroes as they appraise each other and prepare for the epic battle. There is a sense of foreboding and destiny as the ultimate fight between good and evil prepares to commence.
SPIDERMAN: What's your name?
BATMAN: (angrily) No, the bad guy doesn't say that!
SPIDERMAN (more ominously): What's your name?!
BATMAN: I'm Batman (mumbles incoherently)
SPIDERMAN: I'm gonna throw you away!
BATMAN: You can't throw me away, I'm the good guy!
SPIDERMAN: I'm gonna throw you away! What's your name?
BATMAN: No, I'm gonna throw you away!
SPIDERMAN: What's your name?
BATMAN: I already told you. You're going to jail, Spiderman.
SPIDERMAN: No I not. I'm wearing a life vest.
BATMAN: You're wearing a what?
SPIDERMAN: I'm wearing a life vest! See?
BATMAN: Why are you wearing a life vest? There's no water.
SPIDERMAN: What's your name?
BATMAN: Stop asking me that!
SPIDERMAN: I gonna kill you.
BATMAN: No, I'm gonna kill you and put you in jail.
SPIDERMAN: No I not. I'm the bad guy.
BATMAN: I know, that's why you're going to jail.
SPIDERMAN: No I not. What's your name?
BATMAN: You're the bad guy. You're going to jail.
SPIDERMAN: I daily and daily the bubbles.
BATMAN: What?
SPIDERMAN: The bubbles! The bubbles!
BATMAN: What are you talking about?
SPIDERMAN: What's your name? I'm wearing a life vest.
BATMAN: Forget it. (turns and dejectedly walks away)
Fade to black
Credits
Based on a story conceived by my sons in the back of the car
How to start?
Robyn once said that I should start a blog, for those rare occasions where I have something humorous to say (I wish I could include "meaningful," but my meaningful quotient is even lower than my humorous quotient, so I won't delude myself with that hope) and I want to keep track of them. Then she and Steve started a blog about being newly married, and I felt guilt-tripped into getting something down. I'm compromising by making this private; at this point, I haven't invited anyone to read it, though I imagine at some point Jodie may get the honor...or chore. So I'll keep this as a place to include what I find amusing or important, with the caveat that amusing or important things may be neglected if I'm busy. Journaling didn't work for me, so I'm not real confident about keeping up with this either. But it's worth a shot.
A note about the title of this blog: in my multiple fantasies of giving speechs, I used to compose one to give the church thanking them for their love and support during Michael's surgeries (one of my future posts may include this non-existent speech). I became focused on the idea that we pray for miracles, then don't recognize them when they arrive because they come in the form of people. Which led me to the phrase (hopefully original, but maybe not), that we are the Instruments of God's Miracles. It also relates to a wonderful Randy Stonehill song, "Who Will Save the Children?"
"We are his hands, we are his voice
We are the ones who must make a choice
And if it isn't now, tell me when,
And if it isn't you, then tell me who will save the children?"
Given my love of guitar, this concept had particular relevance for me, and I've tried to think of myself in that way. Maybe not the best title for a blog that will primarily (hopefully) be amusing, but there it is nonetheless.
Now to begin, with some of my earlier writings that still exist in the ether(net).
A note about the title of this blog: in my multiple fantasies of giving speechs, I used to compose one to give the church thanking them for their love and support during Michael's surgeries (one of my future posts may include this non-existent speech). I became focused on the idea that we pray for miracles, then don't recognize them when they arrive because they come in the form of people. Which led me to the phrase (hopefully original, but maybe not), that we are the Instruments of God's Miracles. It also relates to a wonderful Randy Stonehill song, "Who Will Save the Children?"
"We are his hands, we are his voice
We are the ones who must make a choice
And if it isn't now, tell me when,
And if it isn't you, then tell me who will save the children?"
Given my love of guitar, this concept had particular relevance for me, and I've tried to think of myself in that way. Maybe not the best title for a blog that will primarily (hopefully) be amusing, but there it is nonetheless.
Now to begin, with some of my earlier writings that still exist in the ether(net).
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