And Then I Changed My Mind

and went back to Blogger:

http://13months.blogspot.com/

iPad

One of us is the proud owner of a brand new ipad.

One or more of us, I guess. I don’t really know your story.

But I am. That’s the whole point here. I am the proud owner of a brand new ipad.

Angie got it for me for my birthday. In reality, I had to order it myself once she found out the Apple store was out of it and, as such, I haven’t actually laid my hands on it yet, but I have an official order number, so it’s only a matter of days before I start updating 13Months from the bathroom, or the back yard, or the upstairs closet, or Nila’s crib, or a wherever else I might take it.

(As an aside, I am a little frightened that those are the places I thought of as whimsical computing spots…)

Nila at 2 and a Half

Nila is 30 months old now. Can you believe it?

When I woke up this morning, I heard her downstairs singing Do, Re, Mi with Angie. She can sing it perfectly.

In addition to the singing, she’s getting quite a personality. Like all Meeker women, she gets angry when she’s hungry and won’t stop talking when she’s tired. She likes to play loud family and I can get her to yell for the cows when they aren’t out in the field over on North Star.

Last week, we took her to Wendy’s and she wanted to get a toy. More specifically, she wanted to pick her own toy. I told her she would have to wait and took her to sit down while Angie ordered. Nila didn’t want to get out of line without her toy so she sat down on the floor and said “No. I want to pick a toy.”

I told her she’d either have to get up and walk or I’d pick her up and carry her. She just said no again, so I picked her up. She, of course, wiggled away until I was holding her a foot off the ground by one arm. Now, I’m standing there doing what I thought only bad parents do; foisting up my toddler by one arm. I had to decided whether to put her down and start over or to keep hoisting until she was up. I decided to pull her all the way up. I mean, I was already the parent with the screaming kid. Why not go all out?

I took her into the foyer – the little area between the doors. I put her down and knelt down to talk to her. I told her she’d have to wait for the toy and that Mommy was getting it, but she’d have to be a big girl and stop crying/yelling in the restaurant. She calmed down and we went back in.

I thought we were fine. I grabbed a high chair and headed for an open table. I put the chair down and took off her jacket, then I lifted her into the chair.

“No. I pick a toy.”

And she refused to sit in the chair. With her feet firmly planted on the seat and refusing to bend,

“Sit down or I will take your shoes off.”

This threat usually works. I don’t know why, but whenever she won’t sit (usually in her car seat) I just warn her with the shoes and she sits. But not this time. This time she just started wailing like a banshee.

I gave her one last warning.

“Nila, sit down and stop screaming or I will take your shoes and we will leave.”

No go. So, I took her shoes off and carried her out of Wendy’s.

We got to the car and I put her in her car seat. She continued wailing until Angie got out to the car with the food. We drove home and ate our food there.

It was exhausting! It was probably the worst fit Nila has ever thrown and reminded me that we will have to be sure not to let Nila get hungry when she’s out in public!

16 Years

Every year I think that the anniversary of my dad’s death will go by un-noticed. I think maybe I’ll forget it.

Well, sixteen years have passed and that hasn’t happened one time.

Sometime last year, I passed the mark where he’d been dead for more years of my life than he was alive and each year puts me farther away from 1994, but it feels pretty much the same.

Angie said something about it earlier and I said that I hadn’t really thought about it much, but that wasn’t true. I’ve pretty much thought about it all day. All week really. I’ve anticipated it. I’ve thought about it every time I look at the date. I thought about it at Nila’s Valentine’s Day party on Sunday.

This year reminds me of the actual winter of 1994, too, so that keeps it on my mind. It’s cold and snowy. So I thought about this morning as I tried to dig the truck out of its parking space. I thought about it as my hands froze from the wind.

I guess it’s ironic that the farther from February 10, 1994 I get the more I allow myself to feel and express the pain of it. Maybe it’s a sign of maturity. Maybe I’m too tired of it to fight it anymore. I don’t know, but I do know that I feel a jumble of things. I guess it comes with the territory.

2009 Year in Review

January: Angie convinced me to answer a bunch of questions about something. I turned it into an acronym which I think stood for “Kindle Your Manifest Destiny.” I decided to expand from sea to shining sea. Obama was inaugurated and I wrote him an open letter which still stands up a year later and I boycotted Donato’s.

February: I didn’t write it, but I can only assume I spent the entire month being much too cold. I got a job and we were all crazy about Octomom.

March:  I realized I didn’t have to observe Earth Hour until 4905, I made a stuffed bunny and I remembered Halabja. And Nila was cute!

April: Angie and I visited the Deep South: Cincinnati. More importantly, we toured Columbus’ finest taco trucks. I also had a birthday, but I failed to mention it on my blog. Poor me.

May: I was super crafty in May. I made hummus, yogurt and (planned to make) various types of flavored waters. I also got into an argument with the lady at the towing company. Didn’t mean I didn’t have to pay…

June:  Iran protested the government, but we were more concerned about a fly killed deftly by Sasquatch.

July: Angie and I went to the UA 4th of July parade before heading to the ER, the Kurds held elections, I yearbooked myself and most importantly I seen Beyonce at Burger King.

August: Good Lord this year was dull. In August, I made fun of Shakira’s english and had a bad morning. (and Mom turned 52. She gets mad when I don’t mention her birthday in the yearly review)

September:  I gradually stopped blogging in the last half of 2009. The only things to report from September are than Patrick Swayze died and NPR covered the closure of the Jungle of Calais. It was also Nila’s second birthday and my third weddign anniversary. I did not comment on those events at the time.

October:  Exercise tried to kill me.

November: Angie went crazy for Naked Slanket.

December: I told you I hadn’t abondoned the blog, but clearly that’s not 100% true.

Not Abondoned

I thought I should make my presence known before the squatters show up.

See Nila’s blog.

Naked Slanket

I was watching QVC the other day. I saw the following product:

Later, I explained it to Angie and the following conversation ensued.

Me: “Do you know the Slanket?”
Angie: “Yes”
Me: “Well, now they have a luxury version. It’s furry and it has a pocket for your hands.”
Angie: “Cool”
Me: “It also has a pouch for your feet. Looks pretty comfortable.”
Angie: “Why would you wear it naked?”
Me: “…what?”
Angie: “Would you wear it with no clothes on? It’s weird.”
Me: “Me? Why would you say that?”
Angie: “Well, you said it looks comfortable.”
Me: “…”
Angie: “I don’t know.”

John 4:31-54

Meanwhile the disciples were urging Him, saying, “Rabbi, eat.”

This makes me think about my time in Kurdistan. The Kurdish for “Rabbi, eat” is “Mamosta, bixo.” Although in Kurdish it would be followed with the equivalent of “Eat! Why aren’t you eating? Don’t be shy! Eat.”

In Kurdish, mamosta means teacher (like Rabbi in Hebrew). It helps me remember the intent of the word Rabbi whener I see it used. In Kurdish, mamosta is a common title used to show respect for someone who has knowledge (actual teachers and otherwise). Drawing the link between mamosta and Rabbi helps me remember that Jesus is being held up as someone who has knowledge to give rather than as a member of a religious institution.

But He said to them, “I have food to eat that you do not know about.”

So the disciples were saying to one another, “No one brought Him anything to eat, did he?”

Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work.

The water that Jesus has to offer is everlasting life and the food that he eats is to follow the will of God and do His work. We seek to be as Jesus, so we must eat the same food.

“Do you not say, ‘There are yet four months, and then comes the harvest’?
Behold, I say to you, lift up your eyes and look on the fields, that they are white for harvest.

“Already he who reaps is receiving wages and is gathering fruit for life eternal; so that he who sows and he who reaps may rejoice together.

“For in this case the saying is true, ‘One sows and another reaps.’

“I sent you to reap that for which you have not labored; others have labored and you have entered into their labor.”

The food to be eaten is the will and work of God. It is ready to be harvested and eaten. There is no waiting. It is being harvested now. We don’t have to plant the seeds, someone else has already done that. We are not at the beginning of the cycle, but at the end – it’s not even the beginning of the harvest, the workers are already hired and working. We are eating the labor of those that have come before.

The Samaritans from that city many of the Samaritans believed in Him because of the word of the woman who testified, “He told me all the things that I have done.”
So when the Samaritans came to Jesus, they were asking Him to stay with them; and He stayed there two days.

Many more believed because of His word; and they were saying to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves and know that this One is indeed the Savior of the world.”

The Samaritan woman becomes an early missionary. She spreads Jesus to her people and she gets a quite a reward in return: the people begin to believe of their own faith, no longer relying on her!

After the two days He went forth from there into Galilee. For Jesus Himself testified that a prophet has no honor in his own country. So when He came to Galilee, the Galileans received Him, having seen all the things that He did in Jerusalem at the feast; for they themselves also went to the feast. Therefore He came again to Cana of Galilee where He had made the water wine And there was a royal official whose son was sick at Capernaum. When he heard that Jesus had come out of Judea into Galilee, he went to Him and was imploring Him to come down and heal his son; for he was at the point of death.

So Jesus said to him, “Unless you people see signs and wonders, you simply will not believe.”

The royal official said to Him, “Sir, come down before my child
dies.”

Jesus said to him, “Go; your son lives.” The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and started off.

This is more positive fallout from the miracle of water to wine. The royal official knows that Jesus can perform miracles from either being present at the wedding or hearing the stories and he asks Jesus to save his dying son.

As he was now going down, his slaves met him, saying that his son was living. So he inquired of them the hour when he began to get better. Then they said to him, “Yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him.”

So the father knew that it was at that hour in which Jesus said to him, “Your son lives”; and he himself believed and his whole household. This is again a second sign that Jesus performed when He had come out of Judea into Galilee.

Reasons Why Exercise are Dangerous

As you know, Angie and I have been exercising with a trainer. She bartered her web design services for the training. I’ll post a link to our trainer’s website when it’s finished.

This morning I got up early to exercise before I came to work. Two things happened.

As I was putting on my shoes I hurt my knee. I mean, that activity isn’t what did it. I’ve had a little bit of pain this week for some unknown reason, but it really started to burn when I squated down to get the shoes.

I put some ice on it the burning was so bad and I headed downstairs to exercise. I gave it a few minutes and started to do the routine – there wasn’t any pain once the burning passed.

I was doing pretty good and then something terrible happened!

I had a weight in my hand and slammed said hand against one of the ceiling beams in the basement. My pinky finger was squashed between the weight and the wood. It hurt!

I stopped exercising and sat down. I scraped a bit of skin off, but it wasn’t really bleeding. the finger was a little swollen and it was hard to bend it.

I went upstairs and Angie and Nila tried to talk to me. The pain was so bad, I couldn’t even think! Angie tried to get me to go to the emergency room, but I could bend the finger and the pain subsided a bit.

Angie then tried to get me to call of work, but I think it was because she wanted me to drive her places not because of my poor finger.

Anyway, I put a Hello Kitty bandaid on it and it’s fine now unless I lean on it.

I survive to fight another day!

$9 Billion Wasted

Each year $9 billion is spent on debt, debt service and maintenance on US church buildings – building real estate worth over $230 billion.

That’s according to Pagan Christianity?, a great/frightening/disheartening/encouraging book about the pagan roots of Western Church practices and traditions.

The book is full of things that’ll make you think twice about what you know as “church,” and I recommend it.

The $9 billion figure stands out because it’s ridiculous. The US church spends $9 billion on buildings? Really? Wow, what a waste.

Here’s list of things $9 billion could buy:

• 9,000,000,000 vaccinations against meningitis, measles, polio or other deadly epidemics (Doctors without Borders.)
• 3,571,428 sponsorships providing full-time residential care for children in an Arms of Love Children’s Home, which includes all meals, housing, houseparents and other staff, a private education, clothing, medical care, recreation, and all other costs of full-time care for a year (Arms of Love).
• 1,285,714 heart surgeries for Iraqi children (Shevet Achim).
• 900,000 international homes (Habitat for Humanity).

And that’s per year. Think of what a decade of targeted giving could do.