Them people

I heard on the radio that some people somewhere were asking for legislation to prohibit ocean liners from  sailing within a certain distance of certain Italian shores.  They want the laws because of what happened with the Costa Concordia.  I think such legislation is ridiculous.  How often have cruise liners crashed in those waters?  If such a law already existed, would it have prevented the reckless captain from making the same choice?  The captain ought to be punished; and people will learn from the experience.

I've been thinking political thoughts lately.  Sometimes, I wish I had a quiet place, like a moon base, where I could go ponder in peace.  And sometimes I wish I had a quiet place, like a moon base, to which I could send politicians.

I want to vote for a normal American: someone who has worked hard to earn their living.  I would really like to vote for someone who does not want to be a politician.  If a farmer ever ran, I think I would vote for them.  Good farmers don't do stupid things -- they just get the work done.  Ammon, I would vote for you.  I would also vote for someone who did no fundraising.  Why should you need to spend a lot of money to become elected?

I have other thoughts, but I haven't yet sorted them through in my head.

Also, sometime in May, Christy and I have an appointment to meet a little girl at the hospital and bring her home to live with us for a few years.  I expect she'll want a name.  And probably some food and clothing.  She'll likely cry sometimes, too.

I hope she can do math when she arrives.

Malaika Wangu

I married an angel.

After being dumped once by a girl, I wrote this poem:

---

Where have all the butterflies gone
    Whose wings once tickled my heart?
Why does the fire's flame now burn so low,
    Which before, from the blaze made me start?
Where is the apple at the top of the tree
    That beckoned me up to such heights?
Where are those eyes, those star-shaming eyes,
    That smiled at me those warm summer nights?

They're gone.
It's spent.
Beyond reach.
They're closed.

A soft echo's all that remains...

   And a hope -- a sure hope!

That new butterflies will come,
That a flame will arise,
That I'll find that sweet fruit in the tree,
And that this time,
    Not eyes, but a heart I will find,
Who will smile with love on me.

---

And I found her!  All the pain of dating seems laughably insignificant now.  Christy is so good, so genuine and so true.  And she's cute :)

To the discouraged daters: keep trying.

10K

Today is a great day.  Today I turn 10,000 days old.  Happy Birthday to me!

I know because of www.wolframalpha.com.

sad wizard :(

I'm testing blogger's new interface.  This is only a test.  Do NOT read this.  I repeat: this is just a test.

So sad

This wizard is sad.  Poor wizard.

There's a location option: Yukon.

I scheduled this to come online at 9:15pm tonight.

Lions

Lately we've been reading about lions and wardrobes and witches. It has been great. Most recently, we finished The Silver Chair. Here are some parts of the story I liked best.

Jill meets Aslan in his land, a high mountain overlooking Narnia. Aslan tasks Jill with finding the lost prince and tells her four signs she will use to accomplish the task. After giving her the signs and making her repeat them until she had them memorized he says:

"Stand still. In a moment I will blow. But first, remember, remember, remember the signs. Say them to yourself when you wake in the morning and when you lie down at night, and when you wake in the middle of the night. And whatever strange things may happen to you, let nothing turn your mind from following the signs. And secondly, I give you a warning. Here on the mountain I have spoken to your clearly: I will not often do so down in Narnia. Here on the mountain, the air is clear and your mind is clear; as your drop down into Narnia, the air will thicken. Take great care that it does not confuse your mind. And the signs which you have learned here will not look at all as you expect them to look, when you meet them there. That is why it is so important to know them by heart and pay no attention to appearances. Remember the signs and believe the signs. Nothing else matters." (p.560)

Taking Aslan as a figure of Jesus Christ, his words have direct meaning for us. We have distinct spiritual experiences. At those times we can see clearly and feel as though we're on mountains looking down on common life. And we may be told to do something in the future: to know the "signs" or scriptures by heart; to remind ourselves of the time we spent on the mountain. And it's true! Common life happens and the signs or scriptures seem not to fit. But they do and we should follow them.

Near the climax of Jill's and Eustace's adventure, they must decide whether or not to untie a dangerous person from the silver chair. Their reason for untying him: one of the signs Aslan gave Jill indicates that they should. Their reason for not untying him: they think he will kill them if they do.

"Do you mean you think everything will come right if we do untie him?" said Scrubb.

"I don't know about that," said Puddleglum. "You see, Aslan didn't tell Pole what would happen. He only told her what to do. That fellow will be the death of us once he's up, I shouldn't wonder. But that doesn't let us off following the sign."

That's faith! Either The Lion is right or He is wrong. If He is right, it doesn't matter what happens in the interim from following what He has commanded.

Life is Grand

Christy is visiting her sister this week. But it's okay. I'm not one bit sad. Life is pretty much the same.

I sleep.

I shave.

I get food out of the fridge.

I scamper off to work.

I drive to work.

I work.

I leave work.

I drive home.

I eat delicious dinners.

And even delicious desserts.

Don't even worry about me. I'm totally fine.

Oh, things

I was looking at Salt Lake's weather today and was presented with this:

The popup asks, "Would you like to save this location?"

YES! Yes, I'd like to save Salt Lake City! Is it going to be torn down? What do you need from me in order to save it? I'd donate funds to keep it around! Please, everyone, I plead with you to go to weather.com and vote to save Salt Lake City!

Also, I'm getting married this weekend.

Boneless, skinless, chicken breast

I'm having Elevensees right now: leftover chicken pot pie from Tuesday night. I'm about half-way through my piece. It's late. It's dark. And I just thought, whilst staring admiringly at my pie, "Wow. I made this." As I told my dinner group, this is the first time I've made pie crust unsupervised. And it turned out quite well. The crust has mellowed a bit during it's stay in the fridge. In its prime, it was crisp and flakey.

My exact position right now is rather remarkable. I'm seated on a wooden chair, in my warm house, typing on a portable computer under the light of both incandescent and fluorescent bulbs. Most of the pie resides inside me, now -- only a rind of crust remains. Yum. All gone. That pie was made of flour, water, shortening, peas, carrots, lima beans, green beans, boneless, skinless chicken, salt, pepper, oil, cream of potato soup and cream of cow. The water came through pipes right into my kitchen. The vegetables came frozen, in a plastic bag. I've never grown lima beans... and without instruction would not be able to grow them. Yet I can eat them. I've also never grown wheat or green beans, nor have I ever harvested salt or pepper. I'm not sure how I would go about harvesting salt. I imagine a shovel would help. Cream of potato soup comes from cans -- aluminum cans (They're no longer tin, right? Who cares anyway?). I wonder how many hours I'd need devote for the cream of cow I used...

But back to meatier matters. Boneless, skinless, chicken breast! Of all God's children, how lucky am I? I've never raised a chicken. I've never killed or plucked a chicken. I've never skinned a chicken, or removed it from its bones. And yet I eat boneless, skinless, chicken breast? In colloquial parlance, I can claim that the pie was "made from scratch." But really, I have no clue how to make that pie from scratch. Imagine the hours I'd need to dedicate just to get one part of the pie. Pick any part! Oil? Flour? Pepper? Aluminum? The oven?

I live like a king. And so, likely, do you.

Here's my castle:

It's that time again

I feel like this again.

I love the Fall after a wonderful summer. Yes, I capitalized one season's name and not the other. Autumn feels like a slow ending to a good movie. Things are wrapping up; preparing to die. Somehow, though, there's a sort of freshness in the decay.

Sleeping Beauty

My niece came over to Grandma's yesterday with a Disney princess sand pail. I asked her the names of all the princesses on the pail, which she knew. She even knew who Sleeping Beauty was. I don't think I could pick Sleeping Beauty out in a lineup.

So I asked Meleah to tell me the story of Sleeping Beauty. She related the story in its entirety: "Once upon a time, there was girl named Sleeping Beauty. She liked to sleep a lot. The End."