Tools

I'm not a real handyman. I don't even play one on TV.

I am, however, a homeowner, which gives me license to pretend to be one every now and then. Lately, that has entailed much drywall and joint compound, prybars and shovels for wet floor underlayment, a caulk gun, and more than a few broken utility blades. It has also found me making more than a few trips to the hardware stores in the area, and that always leaves me starring glossy-eyed at rows of shiny, happy, ready-to-be-purchased power tools!

I love power tools. I wish I needed one of everything at Home Depot, just to have them around, taking up space in the garage, being dusted off occasionally to do some minor project far beneath their limit of usefulness. Practicality, however, limits me to purchasing only the tools that I can make my wife believe I'll actually have a use for.

My first power tool was, of course, an electric screwdriver, back when I was an apartment dweller, and didn't need anything more than that. You need understand, though, that the electric screwdriver is the "gateway drug" of tools. It seems nice and harmless, but pretty soon, it doesn't do the job for you anymore, and you need something more to get you revved up: you need a reversible, variable-speed, cordless drill with forty-leven bits with which to drill and fasten your world into submission. It only gets worse from there.

When you become a homeowner, you look around at the walls that you (and the bank) own, and you realize that you can put as many holes in them as you want, and nobody's going to complain. Until, that is, the walls are covered with more empty space than paint. Then you have to fix them. And while you've got the walls open, you see that the wiring isn't quite up to the standard of today's electronics-loaded life, or that there isn't any insulation in them, or that there is a mystery wire that doesn't seem to connect to anything. Every little thing escalates into something more than you expected.

For instance, take the example of our master bathroom. One day a few years ago, my wife decided that she was going to paint our bathroom. She asked me to take off the baseboards, so that she could pull off any wallpaper, and see what else needed to be done. When I started, several weeks had passed since she had first asked me, but that's not the point, the point is that when I put my catspaw prybar up to the wall to start gingerly pulling off the baseboard, it went right through the wallboard, which was mushy and soft, due to water from the shower penetrating through the grout around the tile, and turning the whole wall into a big spongy mess. I think the wallpaper was the only thing holding it up. Digging in further -- literally -- I found more water damage. Tiles started coming off WAY too easily, and wallboard crumbled off leaving exposed some rather damp wall studs. The floor covering was linoleum, but underneath was a particle board underlayment, and it was soaked and crumbling. The farther I got into it, the worse things got. In the outside wall, once I had pulled off the tile and wallboard, was termite damage.

What started out as painting finally became a near-complete gut of the bathroom. I took the shower walls and one of the interior walls down to the studs, in order to properly insulate the exterior walls, and sound-insulate the interior wall. We replaced the underlayment and put down vinyl tiles. We replaced the toilet, and had the shower and vanity counter done in a solid-surface product. We even replaced the lighting, exhaust fan, and toilet paper holder. And it only took us two years to finish everything.

With every home-improvement project escalation, the only solution is to buy a bigger hammer. Or maybe a power saw. Or an air compressor with a nail gun. At least, that's my solution. I suppose a rational person would say that the solution is to get it done with the tools you have, but what fun is that?

My tool collection has grown from one lowly electric screwdriver to include a circular saw, a compound miter saw, a rotary cutter (Roto-Zip), a rotary tool (Dremel), a 1-gallon, 100 PSI air compressor, with nail gun, and most recently, the most useful tool a home owner can have, a reciprocating saw, or "sawzall."

I don't think there is any way to overstate how useful a sawzall is. It's the appropriate tool for so many different jobs; it's even more versatile than a leafblower! Taking down a wall? SAWZALL! Removing a door jamb? SAWZALL! Tearing out an old deck? SAWZALL! Neighbor's tree hanging over your fence? SAWZALL! Neighbor's car parked over the property line on your side? SAWZALL! Day-old bread just a little too hard? SAWZALL! Nose hairs growing out of control? SAw... wait a minute, maybe just tweezers for that one, and save the sawzall for those bushy eyebrow hairs.

Granted a sawzall isn't that great when you're building; it's mostly for tearing down. It isn't precise enough to cut lumber to length, or cutouts in plywood. I guess one of those chainsaw sculptor guys could probably make use of it pretty well, but that's not me; the last time I tried to sculpt anything, it was made out of salty dough, and though it was supposed to look like a relief map of the state of California, it ended up looking more like the cat threw up.

What I'd really like now is a router table. I don't have a need for it, really. I'd just like to round over the edges of various scraps of wood laying around the place, so nobody hurts themselves if they fall on them. I tried doing that with the sawzall, but it didn't go too well.

Had to share this one, which I saw on a friend's blog.

Having posted this, I will return to my “nothing” box.

My favorite Holiday geekery

Do yourself a favor; click here to look at iYule, the video Christmas album for your computer, iPod, iPhone, TV (if it’s attached to a media player of some kind), or what have you. A crackling fire and soothing piano music set a great holiday mood! The first time you play it, though, you’ll just sit and watch the fire, so be warmed, er, warned. Actually, on a big enough TV, you might get warmed up, at that!

Yeah, you can get this kind of video at Bed, Bath & Beyond, but the music on this one is very soothing. Plus, the producers are donating a percentage of their take to various charities.

Between iYule, and my iPod full of Christmas music, I’m set for the season!

Stuff I saw whilst driving around

I was out and about this week, and I saw this:


Kopi Luwak, for those of you who don’t know, is a very rare kind of coffee. The luwak, also called a palm civet, is an animal found only in certain Indonesian islands. Apparently, ripe coffee cherries are part of their usual diet, and when their digestive systems are done with the cherry, the beans are deposited within their feces. There are lively discussions about what the digestive enzymes may or may not do to the quality of the beans, but so far as I’m concerned, those discussions can’t get around the fact that some poor slobs have to collect poop to “harvest” the coffee.

So, the coffee gets separated from the fecal matter (another process I’d rather not think about), and when roasted ground, and brewed, the coffee is supposed to be the best-tasting coffee you’d ever want to taste. It’s very highly sought-after, and very expensive. If you go to the website shown in the picture, you’ll find that you can mail-order a pound for $85.99!!!! Wikipedia has a short article on it, which notes that one cafe in Australia sells one cup of this stuff for A$50.00!

That’s a heck of a lot of money for crappy coffee, if you ask me.

All that aside, the question I have to ask is this: If you sold coffee that expensive, would you be driving a Ford Escape? If you’ve got enough ego to push over-the-top gourmet coffee, with all the snobbery and cooler-than-thou thereto appertaining, wouldn’t it take at least a Hummer H3 to hold said ego?

--

Another episode: I was driving on the freeway today, and got stuck behind someone in the slow lane who was taking “slow lane” entirely too literally. When I was finally able to get around them, I peeked over at the driver (because that’s what we DO in these situations, isn’t it?), and was almost overcome by a mass of stereotypes: The driver had all of the following clichés going:

        1) Asian
        2) Female
        3) Tiny person driving a big SUV
        4) Talking on a cell phone held up to her ear
        5) Punctuating her conversation with her “free” hand -- i.e. the one that should have been glued onto the wheel.

Confronted with such a glut of stereotypes, I had only one choice: I had to shout “GET OFF THE ROAD” in my best over-caffeinated angry-white-boy voice. I tried to resist, but there was apparently too much of a concentration of tired cliches in that area, and holding back could have caused a rift in the time-space continuum.

Who am I to mess with that?

I'm likin' this!

This seems like the kind of thing I would do, were I a firefighter.


Fire Fighters lift car with water!!! - Watch more free videos

Ah, memories....

Twenty-seven years ago today, I was sick.

You may ask, “Tim, how can you remember being sick all that time ago?” I’m glad you asked. I’ll tell you.

Today is my 43rd birthday. Or, as you might have already observed, it’s my last prime-numbered birthday until 47. Twenty-seven years ago today was my 16th birthday, and I remember that day pretty well, considering how far away it is now shrouded in the mists of pre-history. (That’s what my kids would have me believe, anyway.) I remember it because all that week I was sick at home with the chicken pox.

At the time, my family was living in Woodland, California. My dad was the minister at a church there; I was in high school, as many 16-year-olds are, and in my opinion, I was ready to face the world, as many 16-year-olds think they are. (I was wrong, as many 16-year-olds are, but that’s beside the point, as many of my comments are.) My parents tell me that I was an obnoxious, lazy know-it-all. I don’t remember being obnoxious, but the rest still tracks pretty well.

Somehow I had gotten it into my head (my parents told me) that I had chicken pox as a three- or four-year-old, the way all the Castle men do.... three spots, a high fever, and it’s all done with. That’s how Granddad Castle had ‘em, how my dad had ‘em, and so I was just following the family tradition. So when the dratted spots started showing up among the kids at our church, my parents responded with compassion toward the other folks at church who hadn’t had them, by volunteering me to help in the kids’ classes, substituting for the “at-risk” folks.

Imagine our surprise (and my disgust) when I started getting sick! Apparently the immunity you get when you have gone through the dreaded pox didn’t take in my initial encounter, and there I was, right in the sights of the attacking virus. I was a goner.

One thing you don’t find out until a time like this is that such diseases hit you a lot harder the older you get. I had the spots EVERYWHERE on my body -- on the bottom of my feet, in my ears, in my mouth... and everywhere you can think of. It was most uncomfortable. Plus, I had a fever, nausea, and aches that are the stuff of legend. It was a miserable week.

To add insult to injury, that was the week in which our church was hosting a vacation bible school, and to support that, a preacher friend of my dad’s, Victor had brought his “youth staff” to help. Each summer, Victor collected teenagers from churches all over the area to go put on VBS programs, camps, outreach campaigns, and generally help out churches up and down the state. Since I was sick, I didn’t get to participate. Not that herding kids around VBS all week was my idea of fun, but the fact of the matter was that in this “youth staff” were a few quite lovely young ladies that I was quite intrigued by. It had been in my mind for some time leading up to this week that it would be a good time for some serious hand-holding. (Give me a break: I was a good church kid, and so were most of these intriguing young ladies; hand-holding was about as much physical affection as we would let ourselves think of. Okay, as much as we would let ourselves think of for more than a second or two. Most of the time.)

But, no; as I saw Victor’s bus pulling in, I was starting to feel ill. My mom felt my head, and her eyes widened, and she banished me to my room for the duration. My parents had already committed to hosting some of the teens at our house, and, what with my dad being in charge of the VBS and associated activities, and our house being so close to the church building, the whole gang was in and out of our house for the whole week. All those lovely hands, just waiting to be held, so close, yet so far. I was heartbroken. And itchy.

On that Thursday afternoon, I heard some voices outside my window, singing “Happy Birthday” to me. I peeked outside, and there were several of the gang, wishing me a good birthday, but keeping a safe distance. I remember looking at one of the intriguing young ladies and thinking, “She’d look real cute with these spots on her face.” I thought it would be worth finding out, but as I headed for the hallway, there was Mom, coming to see how I was enjoying my surprise serenade. For an instant, I thought about trying to get past her, but realized that in my weakened condition, I was no match for a mother in the prime of her “Oh-no-you-don’t-young-man-get-back-in-there-and-stay-there-until-I-say-you-can-come-out-and-why-don’t-you-clean-your-room-while-you’re-stuck-in-there” years.

As the bus drove off at the end of the week, I was just getting my strength back, but not enough to chase after it. I had missed an opportunity for girl-chasing, and that was that.

So that is the sad tale of my 16th birthday, and as sad as it may be, my birthdays since then have faded the memory of the spots and of my exile to contact-isolation, especially those of the last 16 years, since my wife and I have been together. My 43rd started out with my wife and kids showering me with affection and attention. I got to hug them, and share with my wife a kiss that would have turned my ears red at 16. The hand-holding wasn’t bad, either.

An irrelevant quote

"Anybody caught selling macrame in public should be dyed a natural color and hung out to dry."

-Calvin Trillin

(I’ve been enjoying the quotes from www.quotationspage.com for a while. You can not only read and search there, but subscribe to quote-of-the-day emails or their RSS feed.)

God knew I would write this

Our church is soon going to begin the “40 Days of Purpose” program, based on Rick Warren’s book, “The Purpose-Driven Life.” It seems like we’re the last church in America to do this. We’re SO not trendy, but that’s okay.

As we prepare for it, our elders wrote up a statement regarding two points in which they disagree with two things in the book: the role of baptism in one’s conversion, and the idea that God has planned out our lives completely. I won’t discuss the baptism part here, other than to say that I’m in favor of viewing baptism as a necessary part of our conversion story. It’s the other piece I’m thinking about today.

There’s an idea that floats around evangelical Christianity that says, “God has a plan for your life. He has had it mapped out since the beginning of time, and knew before anything happened exactly what you would be doing at this moment. He is in complete control of your every step.” It’s very deterministic, and makes us sound like some kind of robots. For that matter, if God planned every moment of my life, why would He make me commit any kind of sin? And if He planned each person’s life, why would anyone who sins ever be punished for an action they had no control over. I don’t think the original statement is very helpful for understanding what it means to be human, much less to be a human in God’s image.

On the extreme other end is some kind of deism, which says that God set things in motion, then left us all to go about our lives, and doesn’t care much what happens. That’s not the kind of God I care to believe in, much less worship and try to be like.

Somewhere in the middle is the idea that God did know from the very beginning what would happen in each moment of everyones’ lives, but not because He caused it to happen. God created us in some kind of pattern that resembles His being (whatever that means), and we all have control over our actions, and make choices according to our beliefs, our feelings, our intellects, and our impulses. God transcends time, so he would know the ultimate result of the all of our actions.

My question is why can’t the truth be some combination of the “middle ground” and the deterministic view. Not an average, or a compromise, but a combination of them. Is the idea that God planned my life really in conflict with my having free will? On the face of it, yes, but there is language in the Bible to suggest both are true. Perhaps the truth is greater than we can see, and we don’t do God any disservice by expressing that both are true.

Here’s another paradox that we play with all the time: Jesus was completely human and completely divine. Our rationalistic sides might say that He was “100 percent human and 100 percent divine.” That, of course, adds up to 200 percent, so He was twice the being that anyone else was, apparently. But percentages don’t tell the story, in this case. Perhaps that Jesus was both human and divine expresses a different truth: that to be human is to be much more like the divine than we tend to think. If we were created in God’s image (and we were, according to the Genesis account), then maybe Jesus’ divine essence fits very easily into human form. Still, He did “empty himself,” according to Philippians 2, so there is some major difference -- just not the kind of difference we might be expecting.

I think I’m thinking too much, without getting anywhere. But this is what I’m thinking about at the moment. Thank you for reading.

The Vista from up here

I went out today to buy a copy of Vista Home Premium (full version, not upgrade; this is going on my barebones system that I had previously tried to use as a SharePoint learning system, and used the eval version of WinServer 2k3) and Office Small Business (upgrade). The buying experience itself was a joke.

I went to the ever-more-inappropriately-named Best Buy ('cause it was close to Jamba Juice), and after finding where they had hidden the software section, saw that they had boxes saying, "Ask a sales associate for assistance." So I tried to find one that wasn't already in intense conversation with another sales associate or that wasn't already confusing... I mean helping another customer. I finally found some pert young lady with more eye makeup than brains (i.e. a "senior sales associate"), and asked her where I could get the software. She referred me to the computer service desk (not the GeekSquad desk, mind you, the one in the middle of the display area), where someone would be with me in a minute. After several of the afore-mentioned "minutes," I realized it was going to be a while. Several troubled people were already getting "help" from the one person on duty there. Other "associates" were busily trying to avoid eye contact with customers.

Fortunately, the iMac display was next to the desk, so I played around a little, chuckling at some of the "I'm a Mac, I'm a PC" ads. Finally, the associate at the desk got through telling the two different people that the particular item each was looking for might be available at Fry's or Circuit City, and turned to me. The exchange was something like this:

Me: "I'd like to get Vista Home Premium, and the upgrade for Office 2007 Small Business."
She: "Okay, I'll get the Vista Captain to help you." (They've got a "Vista Captain?" Where's the Captain in charge of getting things done?)
Me: "I just need the software."
She: "Well, he's really the most knowledgeable about the products, and can assist you better." (Cause the comparison chart about which version of Vista to get is obviously not going to be any help whatsoever. At least, not in overselling to poor, unsuspecting Windows users.)
Me: "I don't need assistance. I just need the software."
She: "Oh, you already know what you want?" (At this point, I have already decided that I'm going to brain the first person who suggests that I talk to one of the GeekSquids for help with installation.)
Me: "Yes, just Vista Home Premium, full version, and the upgrade for Office 2007 Small Business."
She: "Okay, I'll take care of it."

It is only then that it occurs to me that they don't seem to have any cabinets of the software right there. She's going to have to go into the dreaded "back room" to get it, leaving the mass of poor, troubled, assistance-seeking customers around me to mope ever longer. But I don't care about them, I'm having a talk with my blood pressure about coming back down to earth.

So she gets on the phone, talks to someone, asks me AGAIN what versions of Vista and Office I want, and then tells me, "Okay, sir, they'll be up at the front; go to any cashier and ask for them."

Couldn't I have done that from the beginning? Why didn't they just use good old-fashioned pull tags?

So I go up to the line at the front, and eventually walk up to a cashier to tell him what I want. He says, "Okay, I'll get that for you." He then walks over to the senior customer service associate (the irritating person who says hello to you when you walk in and frisks you when you walk out), and tells him what it is that I want -- after, of course, double-checking with me that he's actually asking for the right things. Mr. Greeter asks the cashier to cover the door for him, and then goes into one of the closets up by the front door, and disappears for a minute or two, long enough for me to wonder... how big IS that closet, anyway? He then returns with the two boxes of software, gives it to the cashier, who brings it over to ring me up.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Of course, they got the wrong versions, didn't they?" But I hate to bring a perfectly good rant to an end when I tell you that they did, indeed get the correct items for me.

On the way out, the booth bunny at the Comcast display out front (a black hummer with the "It's Comcastic" slogan plastered on it) tries to strike up a conversation: "So, I see you picked up Vista!" (Unsaid undertext: "Don't you want some Comcastic, high-speed goodness to go with that?")
'
"Yes," I answer, "I did. I needed something to complain about for the next several weeks, since my Mac and my DSL line are working so well for me."

Me? Cranky? Oh, a tad.

I should have just gone to Office Depot. It's not as close to Jamba Juice, but it is next to Starbucks.

My new motto for learning

“If in the last few years you haven't discarded a major opinion or acquired a new one, check your pulse. You may be dead.“

- Gelett Burgess
(A relative of yours, Owen?)

I’ve not blogged in so long, I’ve almost forgotten how. But I’ve been getting more random thoughts lately, and might have something to say soon. Then again, I might just have gas.

A new approach to an autumn chore

It’s fall, and the leaves have been falling for a while; most of the trees on our street have fairly well been cleaned out. Fortunately, we hadn’t had much rain to speak of until this week. On Sunday afternoon, it was high time I cleaned out the rain gutters on our house.

Cleaning the gutters is such a dirty and slow task. Hoisting the ladder out, putting it up, climing up, cleaning out what I can reach, then getting down, moving the ladder, and repeating until done.... ick. Even if I climb up onto the roof, it’s quite a process, having to move the bucket along with me. Last year, I decided I’d just throw it on the ground, and clean it up afterward. Still messy, but a little less precarious than hauling a bucked up and down, or along the roof’s edge.

This year, I was wondering if there wasn’t some way I could make it go faster. I thought of trying my shop-vac, but realized that its hose is too short, and there was no way I was dragging the whole thing along the roof with me. Nina reminded me of our leaf vacuum thingy. It’s actually a leaf blower that you can attach a catch bag and a vacuum cone onto, to pick up all the leaves from your lawn. Take off the bag, and remove the cone, and it’s back to being a leaf blower.

So I dragged that thing up, and found that there was no way to get the end of the vacuum cone into the gap between the roof’s edge and the gutter’s lip in order to make the suction pull the leaves out. The cone is just too big.

Then it hit me. Why not just use the blower to blow the leaves out? They should still be dry, and come flying out. Could be fun!

Well, the gutters weren’t entirely dry. Turns out the rain from last weekend, and the residual moisture from the dew of the chilly mornings we’re getting kept a decent amount of mud in the bottom of the gutters. BUT -- it worked, anyway! Leaves came flying out, and then, so did the mud, raining down on the ground below, our cars in the driveway, the lower part of the roof, and, naturally, all over the nut with the leaf blower!

The first spatters caught me by surprise, and I thought, “Well, maybe not.” Then I saw just how effective this method was of cleaning not only the dry leaves out of the gutter, but also the wet leaves and the remaining sludge. It worked well, it worked fast, and if I kept at it, I could be inside and warm (after a hot shower) in record time. So, on I forged. I warned the kids to stay away, or to go get an old umbrella, and ran the blower all the way down along the front of the house. The front took about 8 minutes (not that I was counting), and the back took about 5, since it was less damp, and collects less foliage.

Now, I’m sure some one was looking down the street and saw me up there with a leaf blower, with leaves, muck, and debris blasting up out of the gutters, and down onto me, our house, and our yard, and thought, “That has to be the dumbest guy I’ve ever seen. Hauling a leaf blower along the roof -- he could fall and break his neck! Why doesn’t he just get a bucket and a ladder, and muck them out the way you’re supposed to?”

Then again, there were probably one or two guys who thought, “Man, I wish I’d thought of that.”

It feels so good to be an inspiration to people.

This is SO me...

"Setting a good example for children takes all the fun out of middle age." - William Feather

Another quotable

"I'll be more enthusiastic about encouraging thinking outside the box when there's evidence of any thinking going on inside it."

- Terry Pratchett

ZOE Conference Reflections

I have spent the past couple of days trying to write my reflections on the ZOE Group worship conference that I attended last weekend, with mixed results. It’s hard to try and sort out everything I learned, because some of it isn’t easy to articulate. But, fool that I am, I’m giving it one more try.

As I flew to Nashville last Wednesday, I found myself wondering where my attention to God had gone. It seemed like every now and then I’d wake up and think, “Oh, yeah, I’m a Christian. I need to be organizing my thoughts to do good things in God’s name.” I spent more time thinking about the mundane things of life, and about the non-Godly things I was expecting for the weekend -- where I’d do a little shopping, where I’d eat, where I’d do some sightseeing -- and little time trying to open myself up to what God had planned for me to hear for the weekend. Appropriately enough, the theme for the conference this year is “Closer,” and it focuses on finding intimacy with God.

I puzzled over odd things on the flight out; from Oakland to Dallas, I was in a window seat next to someone that I barely looked at, and didn’t interact with at all. It was one of those situations where you are forced to be physically close to someone, but you put up an invisible wall to retain some strained sense of personal space. I wondered what it was that makes some people more able to interact with strangers in such situations. I’m a generally friendly guy, but I do tend to clam up in situations like this. I was very relieved that my second flight from Dallas to Nashville put me a whole seat away from the nearest human being.

Wednesday evening, I attended the “Vespers” service at the Otter Creek Church. It’s a contemplative service, with low lights, candles, and softer music. The theme had to do with prisoners; I expected to focus on being prisoners to our sin, or something spiritual like that, but they were talking more about their ministry to people in prisons in the area. Still, it was a good experience. I’d like to do something like that at our church sometime.

At the Leadership Conference, which went from Thursday afternoon to Friday afternoon, the keynote speaker was Lauren Winner, author of several books, including Girl Meets God. I had been reading the book over the week before the conference, and have been challenged by it to consider ways to focus my relationship with God through adopting some liturgical practices in my daily routine. Her talks at the conference further moved me in that direction. Ms. Winner (soon to be Dr. Winner) spoke very well about finding God when He seems to be hidden, and also about Sabbath-keeping and its role in the Christian’s relationship with God. I got a lot out of it.

Jeff Walling spoke Thursday evening about the fact that God has done everything necessary for us to be close to Him; we just need to accept and recognize His presence in order to “grow closer.” Jeff is always a real kick to hear, and he usually finds a way to use laughter to disarm us, then jumps in with very clear, moving statements that drive his point him. He spoke about Moses at the burning bush, and had everyone in the place take off their shoes and socks! He used that to illustrate our need to remove the barriers that we put up to keep God out. Jeff’s talk was very helpful to me.

Mike Cope spoke on Friday night and Saturday morning, as part of the main Worship Conference. Mike brought us lessons from two stories in the life of Jacob. When Jacob was running to Haran (and away from Esau), and had the dream about the angels going up and down the ladder, he realized that God had been right there all along.


A similar thing happened 20 years later, when he was returning home, and wrestled with God; Jacob didn’t recognize that it was God until the end of the event. It was as if he was walking around in a fog, not realizing that God was with him.

Kinda reminds me of me.

During the Leadership Conference, we had four sessions talking about how we use our heart, hands, head, and home to engage in God’s work, and draw close to Him that way. Some of the best parts of those sessions were the small groups we divided into, and the discussions we had there. My group was two gentlemen who are worship leaders and one young lady who participates in her church’s praise team. We got to bounce ideas off of each other, and help us work through the topics of the sessions. It was a good experience.

The workshop sessions on Saturday were good. I went to one led by Brandon Scott Thomas, and that was good. I respect Brandon for all he has done to serve other worship leaders, as well as his own church as a worship leader himself.

I also attended some tech sessions led by Matt Maxwell, and got to chime in with a lot of geek information, which is always fun. Matt’s a real good guy, and has put together a lot of very creative videos and media for his church in Abilene. I’ve learned a fair amount about video from him, in just a few short sessions. I love talking tech with him whenever I see him!

The worship times and singing were also very stirring. I found sometimes I couldn’t sing; I just had to listen and focus on the words being sung, trying to open myself up to God. The ZOE Singers, led by Brandon and Peter Wilson, and Woodmont Hills Church praise team, led by Randy Gill, really brought their whole hearts to worship, and drew us in with them.

It’s hard to say what I came away from the conference with. There were some ideas: God is close, I just have to pay attention -- but I knew that. Being close to God takes discipline -- but I knew that. I guess I was reminded of things I knew, and the weekend gave me a real sense of refreshment and hope. I feel like God got through to me, and that I can find the time and energy to listen to Him more.

It was a good trip, and I enjoyed seeing friends that I have made over the years. I enjoyed meals at Cracker Barrel, Corky’s and Waffle House, and enjoyed the scenery around Nashville. I was glad to get home to my wife and kids, and to start facing my life again with the things God brought me through the ZOE Conference.

Fading illusions...

So, it looks like we Californians are going to have to use handsfree devices for cel phones starting in 2008. That's fine with me, though it probably means seeing more people wearing their Bluetooth headsets all the time, as if they were watches, or jewelry.

But what kinda bugs me about the whole thing is this: Weren't we supposed to have handsfree cars by now? I remember reading predictions about this kinda stuff in Popular Science when I was a kid, and I'm still waiting to be able to buy a car that flies, or drives itself! Where are the 45-minute commuter flights to Europe, for that matter?

It just goes to show you that not enough people read science fiction.

A new favorite

I will admit to being a man who is quite comfortable with the familiar. Some things don’t change: The Dodgers are favorite baseball team (though I pay very little attention to baseball at all), Chicago is my favorite band (closely followed by Level 42 and Toto), and Dr. Pepper is my favorite soft drink.

But in other respects, I have somewhat meteoric tastes. I can switch favorites in other areas pretty quickly. Favorite TV show? Lost... no, wait, Stargate SG-1... or maybe reruns of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Favorite item on the Chevy’s menu? Shrimp fajitas, unless the fish tacos look good, or maybe I’ll go for the spicy flautas. Favorite beer? What micro- or craft brew is on sale?

Right now, my favorite a cappella jazz group is Groove Society. I just discovered them via A Cappella Always, my current favorite Live365 internet radio station. Their “Tribute to Earth Wind & Fire” blew me away, and I just had to track them down. Fortunately, their first album (self-titled) is available via iTunes, my preferred way of finding new music. Great voices, great harmonies, great arrangements.... few groups get as good as this.

My apologies to Blue Line Max... you have just been unseated, though your Christmas album will always have a treasured place in my library. And, of course, you will always be my favorite a cappella jazz group, half of whose members I have met, which is based in Portland, and which has recorded “There Was a Star.”

Compartmentalizing keeps the favorites from fighting.

Discuss among yourselves...

Every now and then, some crazy thing pops into my head -- or, more likely, out of my mouth -- that really makes sense. Last night at our prayer meeting, I got one of those. We were talking about being mad at God for things in our lives not going the way we want. As if we had any clue about how things really ought to be. But it’s okay to be mad at God, so long as we let it open up a dialog with Him.

So, here’s the thought for the day:

Sometimes, getting good and mad at God is the best way for Him to get my attention.

You can quote me. Or just point and giggle, whatever works.

Happy Anniversary!

On August 17, 1991, I had the good sense to marry Miss Nina J. Oliver. (Questions about her sense in the matter will not be discussed.) In the ensuing 15 years, there have been a lot of ups and downs, as with every good marriage. We have made good and bad decisions, we have been respectful and disrespectful of each other. We have laughed together, cried together, and sometimes cried, each of us alone. We have both grown up quite a bit, and have just begun to see now how much growing we still have to do.

She has blessed me with her wisdom and intelligence, and I have blessed her with my concern and compassion. She has taught me to think more clearly, and I have helped her take time to stop thinking every now and then. Our strengths cover each others' weaknesses, and our gifts meet each others' needs.

I am learning more every day to hear her heart when she speaks, and to speak to her in a way that she will hear my heart.

I am not proud of everything I have done as a husband. I am, however, proud to say that I am her husband. She has endured my faults, and encouraged my strengths. I am a better man for having let her into my life. I pray that she is a better woman for having let me into hers.

Happy Anniversary, Nina. I love you beyond words.

(Note: Yes, that picture above IS us. She is still as beautiful as the day we got married. I am still as dashing and handsome as I ever was. Which, of course, is open to interpretation!)

Our thought for the day

"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some hire public relations officers."
- Daniel J. Boorstin

Vacation in Oregon

We’ve been on the road since last Saturday, on a little trip to Oregon. We drove up Highway 101 out of the Bay Area, through Sonoma and Mendocino Counties, and up through the redwood forests of the Northern California coast. We stayed in Gold Beach, Oregon the first night out, and then spend the next day driving up to Seaside, Oregon, where we stayed for three nights in a little hotel on the beach. On Wednesday, we drove over to Portland, and are staying with my brother and his wife, primarily to attend the Columbia Christian College/Cascade College reunion. More on that later.

One thing I have noticed during the trip: Oregon drivers have the rather annoying tendency to view the posted speed limit with awe and respect, as if it were something they aspire to, but are afraid of attaining. Californians, of course, view it as an advisory about how ticked off to expect the law enforcement officer to be when we get pulled over.

Did I mention that I got a speeding ticket on this trip?

Oregon’s “highways” through rural areas, including the coastal region, have far too few passing lanes and turnouts. We’d have had a much shorter drive last Sunday if it hadn’t been for that, and all the speed-law-abiding Oregon drivers. I’m not bitter, though. If you’ve got to take your time getting somewhere, the Oregon coast is a good place to do it!

While we were in Seaside, it was rather appalling to discover that I couldn’t get a good cup of coffee from anyplace in the downtown tourist district at 8:00 on a Monday night. I thought this was the Northwest, the bastion of caffeination of the country! Aren’t there laws about the quota of coffee shops required on each block of a city, and the mandatory hours of operation? Pure insanity. I had to content myself with coffee in our hotel room.... ick. I should have brought my French press.

The Columbia/Cascade reunion has been a lot of fun. Nina attended Columbia from 1985 to 1989, and it’s been good to see some of her old friends (even some friends of mine from various places) and show off our kids. For many of the Columbia graduates, it was a time to reconnect, and recognize that Cascade is still their school. After Columbia shut down, then Cascade opened in its place, many of them felt displaced. This weekend has helped to reconnect them -- I know that’s true for Nina.

It’s been good to see several folks I have come to know through WorshipForum -- Ike Graul, Dan Dalzell, Jim Murphy, “Big Mike” Lewis, Joe and Pam Burris, and probably some others, who I have already forgotten.... I have gotten to know some of Nina’s college friends over the past few years, as well, like the LaValley family, Don and Mary Lou Boderman, Dan and Linda Coburn, Jeff Brady, Kami Ellenz, and a few others. So it helped me to not feel completely like the odd man out.

I even got to sing, along with Nina, on a praise team at the chapel service on Friday morning. Dan Dalzell had been asked to lead a couple of songs, and so he put together a group of us to sing together. It was great fun, since the group included Dan and his wife, Lani, Ike and Kaelea Graul, and Phil Hurley, all of whom had sung with various groups at Columbia/Cascade. Also singing with us were Dan’s parents, Dick and Sue Dalzell -- Dick directed choirs at Columbia for many years, and is one of the best vocal conductors I have ever seen. I was in awe of the talent Nina and I got to rub elbows with for the morning. Nina was very glad to be included, since she wasn’t known for singing while she was at school -- she did the band thing, playing flute (quite well, if you ask me).

Friday evening, there was an event called “Campus Collage.” It was billed as a talent show, but the talent in question was... well, questionable! It was neat to see some folks perform together who had done so when they were in college together, even if they were a tad rusty. And Greg and Kevin Woods’ rendition of “To Dweam the Impossible Dweam” was hilarious!

For me, though, the highlight of the evening was Wayne and Lori Aus reviving their “Jake and Kate” act. I had seen Wayne do “Jake the Peg” at camp when I was 12 or 13, where he comes out as a three-legged man and does a little song and dance number. (“...at school when we had the three-legged race, I could win it on my own!”) Later, he and his wife added her part to it as a three-legged woman who Jake meets and falls in love with. It was fun to see it again, and even more fun to watch my kids watch the act, and try to figure out how they did it!

It’s been a good trip, and tomorrow we start for home. We’ll stop tomorrow night in Redding, and get home sometime Monday. It’ll be good to get back to our own beds, our home church, and my French press.