My Savior Dog

No, I'm not dyslexic.

Something strange has happened recently and I'm having trouble deciphering it. If you know me or have followed my blog at all, you know that last December around Christmas my white dog Murdok was put to sleep. You can scroll down and see the post, in which there's a photograph of his headstone. Anyway, my folks told me last week that Murdok's grave had been disturbed.

He's no longer there.

His headstone had been moved away.

Only the pinkish bed sheet/shroud was left.

I've always thought that Murd had a calming, almost healing power to his personality because he was so chilled out. Now, he's no longer where he lay. . . Now, I'm not suggesting Murdok is canine Jesus, but you have to admit the parallels are intriguing. 10 months dog time does not equal 3 days human time; then again, I'm no dog. The idea of The Shroud of Murd kind of cracks me up. It's likely a bear or other Brynion critter dug him up but still...

I'm absolutely into The Big Bang Theory these days. Makes me laugh. Especially Sheldon Cooper. If you're looking for gift ideas for me you can go with t-shirts from that show(large). many can be found, along with other sweet things at thinkgeek.com Just in case you were having trouble.

Happy Halloween

Cake

I went to another concert down at the Edgefield McMinimans this weekend. Saw Cake. Very different feel and crowd from the My Morning Jacket show. MMJ can flat out rock, Cake is pretty laid back. MMJ's lead singer is better at music than entertaining, Cake's lead is engaging and funny. MMJ does ten minute jams, Cake takes the Vibraslap to new heights. The crowd at MMJ was into the music (but not in a snobby way), Cake's crowd was into having a good time (but not in a Jimmy Buffett way). Both groups liked to get high. I enjoyed the opening band for MMJ and loved that MMJ played for over 3 hours. Cake had no opener and played a couple hours - and gave a way a type of Hemlock sapling. Pretty different shows. I liked them both though.
I did not, however, get a backrub from a stranger at this show, and I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing.
Dash has been substituting the word "humans" for "people". It's really funny.
I've hit double digit hornet stings in the last 2 weeks by repeatedly running over an underground nest with my brush mower - you'd think I'd learn...but it's not funny. Hurts. (urth)

Bon Fire

I heard once that if you want to get over a girl, put her in literature. Man, that sounds like something I'd do. Turns out, I have.

I was doing some cleaning the other day (gasp) and came across a box. Inside this box there was another box. And inside that box was a shoe box. It was this box that had some unusual contents: photographs and school pictures going back to grade school, along with notes and letters from old girlfriends. There were a lot of things that i found to be very strange about this as I was sifting through it. First off, how in the heck has this survived all the movings and cleanings prior to this? Why did I keep them in the first place? What do I do with them now? I admit that I am a bit of a sentimental guy, but I'm throwing them out. One note was from the 4th grade! It was strange that there were some notes and letters in there that i never gave. It's about the closest thing I'll get to having a time machine and going back to see myself in jr high/high school.. Man i was a dork (was?). You can probably attest.

Fast forward to "college-Andy". College-Andy has started journaling. He journals dreams he's had and dreams he wants to have. He journals about events that are significant to him, as well as insignificant things he hopes turn out to be significant. There's not a lot of talk about any particular woman or women, but there are frequent references to the woman he's yet to meet. The woman he is hoping to meet one day. The Woman. It's very sweet. I like this guy. If I could only talk to that guy...

While I was married, I journaled less because I had this blog. That was my media for my life at that time. Mostly light hearted, fun stuff. But for the last 2 years I've blogged less and journaled more. The content of my journals now? Spiritual stuff and chick stuff. I have two full books filled up from my divorce alone. The guy who wrote those was angry. Like he'd been stabbed in the heart 39 times and the wound got infected. I don't like that guy. That guy needs to meet College Andy and hang out with him for awhile.

I'm ready to be New Andy.

Writing and journaling have helped me out a lot over the years. It's been therapy at times and may have helped me not explode once or twice. It's also kind of fun to see the commentary I had over the high's and low's over the last 20 years. I am a total dork, and destined to forever be. What I'm wondering is - what do I do with all of it? My life literature is significant only to me and it's beginning to take up some space. I'm fairly sure I don't want others to read it, but if you have any good ideas what to do with it I'm game.

SPEAK INTO MY GOOD EAR!

Last night was july 4th and I was going to flick one of those monster Pop-Its at my cousin, but somewhere in the flick I discharged the megaPop-It right next to my right ear. I received shrapnel to my face and a distinct high-pitched hum that is traveling with me still. I can't tell you the physics on how it happened because I don't know how it unraveled. I'm ringing.

I got a phone call the other night from a friend of mine who'd had a little too much to drink. Actually, a lot too much to drink. The actual phone call was about 45 minutes long and included a lot of making fun of me and then ended with a marriage proposal. Strange? Not if you happened to be listening. But very strange because you are assuming the call was from a woman.

I went to another concert last week. Saw My Morning Jacket down at the Edgefield McMinamins in Portland. Great show. I didn't know them before, but I do now, and am a fan. Some highlights from the evening:

• There were a lot of high people at the concert - makes for fun people watching.





• There were also what seemed to be an unusually high amount of pregnant women (is the phrase "pregnant woman" redundant?) I do not think they were high, but they were well represented.




• We met a real nice white guy named Mateo (like San Mateo). He was so nice he offered me three things: whiskey out of his flask that he smuggled in, some of his weed, and a backrub in the middle of the concert. I accepted one of them.




• Met Jeff Oja. Changed my life. Funny guy. Just kidding, didn't change my life but we made some good fun at the expense of the people standing near us.




• Ok, Ok.... I got a backrub from Mateo mid-concert. But before you judge me, let me explain. There was a pretty rocking song playing and he puts his hands on my shoulders like he's going to start jumping up and down (which would have been appropriate), but instead starts rubbing them. He asks, "Does this offend you?" This was the perfect question for him to ask (assuming he really wanted to give me a massage) because I felt many things at that moment, but offended was not one of them, so I said, "No." What I was feeling was ackward, strange, confused, and hungry, but certainly not offended. So he proceeds. And it was weird. Imagine the middle of a bangin song, people jazzed, singing, dancing...and some stranger is giving you a shoulder rub??? I really felt weird and sort of uncomfortable - mostly because it felt SO GOOD. I'm not ashamed to say that I let him do it for the rest of the song (probably a couple minutes). So there you go.

If you'd like to take something as mundane as weed-eating and liven it up a little, try using 3-D glasses instead of your normal protective eyewear. I did this yesterday. Not only was it more fashionable, but when the little pieces of grass came at me it was like I was Neo from the Matrix.




There is no spoon.




I played at Hoopfest in Spokane for the first time a couple weeks ago with my buddies Jon Webb, Kelly Clary, and Jake Knudsen. We had a blast, we got beat and beat up, and we're probably going to do it next year. Lots of fun. Dash came with me too. I was so glad he did. Things are better with him there. He got his cast off btw. The picture of him is traveling home from Spokane.
That's about it for the last couple weeks. If you call me in the next couple weeks, speak up. Between the concerts, drumming, and fireworks, my hearing is mediocre. Here are a couple snapshots from the last couple weeks.

My new favorite vehicle...My old favorite vehicle with a big a$$ chair in the back. This is how I watched fireworks this year and I highly recommend it. I was a fully mobile stargazing/firework watching aficionado. I got this chair for $10 at a garage sale (talked him down from $20). Sitting in that big beautiful lounger is like you're enjoying the warm embrace of a soft, comfy hug from someone you love who smokes cigarettes.

And finally, this is the first house I lived in. We rolled through Ritzville, WA on the way to Spokane. Dad bought it for $17,000 in 1976.

All I Want Is U2

Seattle, WA, June 4, 2011

6:45am: Bill and I leave Longview/Kelso, headed for Seattle. We're both big-time U2 fans so we're making a day of it. He tells me he's booked us for a 9:30 reservation for breakfast at an exclusive place in Seattle - so I wear my nice shorts. I pack with me a change of clothes and my old U2 shirt from the 2005 Vertigo tour.

8:30: We arrive in downtown Seattle (yes, we made great time, but we were humming at a fever pitch from the get-go). The exclusive breakfast place Bill takes me to is his sister's house where we have some "old family secret recipe for waffles". They're delicious. I meet a number of Bill's family. They're delicious too.

11:00: We leave for downtown Seattle and wind up at Pike's Place Market. A classic stop when you're in Seattle. We get a fresh baked loaf of bread, a bottle of red wine, and a wedge of some "signature" white cheese and eat it on the north end of Pikes. Ideally, this would have been a nice date move, but still a good idea for two buddies. We then find a patch of grass under a tree and take 20 minute refresher (nap). I'm a little nervous to actually fall asleep because there's a lot of "street people" walking/living down there. . . but I do anyway. I wake up to the following coversation occuring 5 feet behind me, "...yeah, I was going to head over there to sleep last week but I had just smoked a bunch of crack and marijuana and they said they'd U.A. me, so I didn't. You know how it is!" (*cackling laughter*) Have you ever just heard somone laugh and know that the person was missing teeth? I have. Anyway, we wake up and walk down to the waterfront and up around downtown some more. Bill runs into a couple guys he knows. One of them knew my grampa Oscar. Small world. On our way back to the car we contemplate taking the ferry over and back just for fun - and we don't. then we contemplate hitching onto a sight-seeing group going to tour Seattle's underground, but that idea gets immediately snuffed when all of the group is wearing wristbands. Moving on. We grab a beer at Fado's. The gentleman serving us suggests a darker, red ale (i say no thanks, but Bill orders me one anyway - ended up pretty good). Then also suggests a shot Jameson. . . we look at each other and kind of give the "why not?" shrug. The concert pre-funk has officially started (fyi - the term "pre-funk" is the pre-party before the party). As we leave Fado's, I tell a pretty French lady sitting by us that she is beautiful. . . in my best French - because I'm trying to be charming. I'm not sure what I actually said, but she did smile back.

2:30: We head east down Madison all the way to Madison Park - which is lakefront. Bill tells me that years ago this was a pretty exclusive gay part of town. And sure enough, there they are! They had a section of the beach area cornered off. Bill and I walk the beach front all the way across and I'm giggling at how many pasty white people there are. Not that my farmer's tan is much better, but we definitely noticed that it was the first nice day in quite awhile. We then walk over to the Attic for lunch. I eat a "signature" meat loaf sandwhich, which is fantastic. Bill's sister and brother in law join us. This is the second signature food item i've eaten today and they both were worthy.

4:00: Back to Bill's sister's to freshen up. I put on my U2 shirt (that smells like it's been in a box since 05', because it has) and take another 20 minute nap. Why the second nap? Because Bill walks fast and we never stayed in one spot very long. All over the city we bumped into people going to the concert. Seattle was literally buzzing in anticipation. It was exciting. Fado's had a milk-board posted in front of the resturant stating, "Eat here Bono!" It was like that everywhere. Oh, and the weather was 80 degrees and sunny. This was setting up nicely.

5:45: Head to Qwest (site of concert). I buy some U2 gear. Bill gets us some beer and hot dogs - because we haven't quite eaten enough today.... On the way in we notice an insane amount of semi trucks filling the north lot. But I guess you need that to transport a 96-ton stage structure.

*Side story #1: U2 is my favorite band. It might not be yours, but it's mine. Lenny Kravitz also makes my top-10 so this is an ideal show for me. I've seen them in concert one other time and it was fantastic (2005 in Portland). I have every LP they've put out including a ton of bootlegged and concert LP's (78 total) and I've seen every dvd they've put out. I am a fan and have been for a long time. So I have some expectations, and they are high. By the way, there's a lot of local folks at the show - good to see you!

7:30: Ticket stub says show starts at 7:00 but nothing yet. No one cares though. Qwest is buzzing. It's still very light out. The picture I took for the blog is from my seat. Ok seats, not really a bad seat in the entire place. I walk up and see my friends Tyler and Jerry. They're near the top of the stadium but can see right down on the stage. Even up there, it's a great spot.

7:48-ish: Lenny walks out. This guy is cool. He and his brass and back-up sistas rock the joint. It was rock-funk, very James Brown. I could have listened to him for a couple hours but sadly, he played less than an hour. That aside, I was in a full lather and lost my voice in that 45 minute period. Lenny was awesome.

*Side story #2: The section where our seats were was a pure joy to be with. It was a triangular section (116) in the 100-level seats and we sat about halfway up. As I walked up to our seats I announced to the entire group, "There better not be any squares sitting in here!" I think that set the tone. Everyone in 116 was singing and dancing for 4.5 hours. We were like a black-gospel choir. Thank you 116 for being so cool. But this is not the story. I started the WAVE at Qwest field! Me. Andy. There were about 15 people in the top left corner of my section that were trying to get the WAVE started but nobody beneath them could see them because they were behind us, and no one behind them could see them because they sat rught under the suites. So being a good Seahawk, I took matters into my own hands. I stood up on my chair, pointed to the 15 and shouted to my section to follow them. And they did. It took a few tries, but we got it going! The stadium was putty in my hands. After the 3rd trip around the stadium (which picked up momentum each "wave"), the David Bowie's "Ground control to Major Tom" started playing which meant U2 was about to "walk on". The place went wild. I'd like to think that I got the crowd in the mood to jam during the intermission. I was Qwest's coach and gave them a "win one for the gipper" pep-talk right before the big game. I was U2's fluffer. Whatever you want to call it, you're welcome Bono. I couldn't shake your hands, but I could start the WAVE for you guys. Isn't that better?

Time Unknown But It Was As The WAVE Was Happening: U2 walks out to a huge roar and starts with Even Better Than The Real Thing. Bono is a "rock-star's rockstar". I can't imagine a concert going any better. Song highlights for me were All I Want, End of the World and Zooropa (which I guess they've never done live). They played all the good stuff, to which I sang/yelled every lyric to. And danced. It was better than 2005. The only possible thing that could have made it better? Bono raising the 12th man flag, but I digress. This was my first trip to Qwest and I now fully understand the reason behind it's reputation NFL-wide as a "loud" stadium. The assault on my ears far out-weighed the assault from my vocal chords.

*Side story #3: There was a short blonde gal in the seat next to me who was so drunk she could barely keep her eyes open, but she sang and danced her little heart out. I applaud her effort. When the first few notes from the synthesizer played Where the Streets Have No Name, the whole place erupted - so did she. It's a fan-favorite song. There's a point near the beginning of the song where the band really kicks it in and they turn on every light possible, so you can see everyone and everything (and it's awesome), and I look at this gal and she has tears streaming down her face on both cheeks! I yell at her, "Are you ok!" With eyes closed she nods and yells back, "I'm just sooo happy!" I totally agree. I'm happy too. Maybe the happiest I've been in a couple years . . . and about 4 months, 22 days, give or take. Just sayin'. Honestly, the last time I remember being this excited and smiling and laughing this much was when Dash was born.

Follow up to the story: Back to the little blondy: during the chorus I yell at her again,"Do you know where the streets have no name?!" and I point straight up to the clear Seattle sky. She shakes her head no. "It's in Heaven, and I wanna go there with you!" (like the lyrics suggest) Just to make sure I don't get punched out, I tell her husband too. He's game. So were the rest of the people sitting around me. I wanted to go there with all of them and they were on board. :)

After the show ended, I felt like the day could not have gone any better. That concert can't be topped. I mean it had everything - even a transmission from an astronaut (Mark Kelly) in space to Seattle specifically for this show! So cool. Check it out on http://www.u2.com/ under "video". Actually watch all 5 videos on that page. They're short and cool. Like Bono. And talk about a cool 360 degree video monitor for the concert! It could stretch all the way down to the stage, you had to be there for that one.

Bill and I eventually crashed back at his sister's house for what was left of the night and were home Sunday morning, just in time for church. Such a great 24 hours. You should have come.

Thank you Lenny Kravitz and your band. Thank you Qwest Field. Thank you Seattle. Thank you Bede's. Thank you Bill. And thank you, U2.

Humorous Cracks

My newly minted 4 year old has gone through a rite of passage (last week). He broke his arm. Cracked the growth plate at the bottom of his humorous bone, in the elbow. This is what happens when you dance to music played on Oprah...on top of an ottoman. Dash was a hurting little boy for 3 days until he got his cast, but once his bright red cast was on, he was instantly better. I must give him credit, though we didn't sleep well while uncasted, though his pain medication constipated him, though his elbow was swollen and sensitive, he did very well. It did make for a long week though. He is, however, one step closer to manhood - and it probably won't be his last cast if he's like his daddy at all.

If you see him in the next 3 weeks, he'll probably ask you to sign his cast. He's very proud of it.

I spent the better part of Memorial Day working around the house. My dad and brothers came by my aunt/uncle's house (next door) and we visited for a minute. The following events and conversations actually happened and no names have been changed to protect anybody...

My uncle Elten walks out of his garage and asks everyone, "Anyone want to see the first club I ever purchased?" and holds up an old wood-headed driver. We (dad, eric, nick, me, paula) look at it and my uncle tees up a ball and promptly smokes one out his back yard. Then Nick takes the old club and smacks one, with a slight hook, over yonder. Naturally, I grab the club next.

Now, before I continue the story any further, I'd like to point out 3 things. 1.) My backyard and my uncle's backyard are basically a steep downhill mess of forrest and fauna and flora. Many a golfball has been launched back there, this is not unusual. 2.) the last time I swung a wood-headed driver was when I was in high school - it was mine - and the head broke into 3 pieces. I even mentioned this while I took a couple warm-up swings. 3.) It is quite possible that Dash has a tighter handgrip than I do. Seriously, for a 34 year old man, I might have the worst grip in the county. Years of jamming/breaking/dislocating fingers have taken a toll on my poor hands. And the fact that I had been weed-eating for the last couple hours does not bode well for what I am about to do...

Back to the story. I tee up a ball and take a couple warm up swings - this is when I make my "last time I swung a wood-headed driver" comment. As I'm swinging, I think to myself, "I should have my golf glove on." Anyway, not to be outdone by my brother or my uncle, I swing away... I actually have no idea where or how far the ball went. No one did. Because we were all watching, in slow motion, the driver helicopter itself down Mt. Brynion. It was just like a movie, pure silence until the club vanished behind a small stand of Alder trees, then an eruption of laughter from everyone - except my uncle. I swear I couldn't have thrown that club any further if I tried. The 1970's driver did have a very slick grip, in my defense. But that baby is gone, never to be seen again. Elten was in sort of a laughing shock, Eric was crying, my dad was shaking his head. I did go and look for it, but there was no way I was finding it.

This was the second time I've done something like this.

It was pretty funny, but I did feel kind of bad for losing my uncle's old driver. He came over later for some shuffleboard and I beat him in both games we played. It wasn't a good day for him.

Quadradical!

I'm late on this post, but Dash turned 4 May 7th. It was a glorious occassion. He had a great party, mostly because it seemed like everyone got him orance tick-tacks (which are his favorite). 8 packs. He ate one package in one day, which probably makes me a bad dad, but I helped him eat them. I'm making him do a push-up for each one he eats now.

(the picture above is an old one from when he was younger, balder, and smaller, but just as mature and intelligent.)

When life isn't easy.

Earlier this week, a woman who I went to school with, lost her son to cancer. I don't know her well, but her son was the same age as Dash. I cannot imagine how Maya and her family are feeling. I mean, I can imagine, but I don't want to. I can imagine how I'd feel if it were Dash and it makes me want to vomit. But imagining is very different than experiencing.
The fragility of life. . . There's a lot of cliche's that could be said here, but the bottom line is that tomorrow is promised to no one. We are all on loan to each other. We get some for long periods of time, others we get for a moment. No matter when someone close dies, it sucks. And the younger it occurs, the more tragic it feels. There are no words to console my friend. My prayers seem thin, though I try. And trying to give a reason for this would almost be insulting. It would be much easier to shake our fist and yell at the sky "WHY?!" I'd like to state that one life lost is not more tragic than another, but of course my biases to the ones I know betray me. I'm saddend by tornados in the south, earthquakes in the east, but very saddened by little Ronan's death. Hypocrisy? Whatever. Personal reflection, about how everything affects me, reveal more about myself than I care to share here. I have a great aunt who may not have much longer due to cancer. Cancer at any age is awful.
Live and love. Take nothing for granted. There are many things in life that don't seem to be "fair". We give and get things that aren't always deserved. My heart will break when some of my closest kin will die. Someone's heart will break when I die. Maya's family didn't deserve to go through this; neither did Ronan. About the only silver lining that I could come up with (that was worth a crap) was that I doubt if there is/was a child who was as loved and appreciated more than he was. This child knew explicitly how much his mommy and daddy loved him. That's awesome. I'm sure that once his parents found out that his life had a timeline, they squeezed every moment they could out of their son. Moreso than I do with mine. I know that even though I love my son like no other, I take advantage of the fact that he's a healthy little guy. And such a good boy! With perspective, behaviors can change. Ronan will make me a better dad. So for that, thanks Ronan.

Anyone care for a No.2?

Things to do with your pencil.

By Andy Lemiere

1. Pencil behind your ear. A classic. Whomever invented this is probably a millionaire.





2. Pencil in your pocket. (No, I'm just happy to see you!) No protector required.





3. Pencil in your hat. My preferred method, especially for coaching.





4. Pencil pinch between your nose and top lip. I do this a lot in meetings to look interested, or uninterested.





5. Pencil twirling. Back in 95' there was an exchange student from Thailand at Kelso named Nate. He was AMAZING at this and he could do it in his sleep. I will never forget Nate Kamploplatanaa, or whatever your name is.





6. Pencil drumming. I do this frequently, but hate it when others do it - like in class.





7. Test taking. Can't take a standardized test w/o a yellow No.2.





8. Pencil breaking. A universal sign of frustration is the snapping of a pencil.


9. And the classic Magic Pencil - place pencil in between thumb and index finger and wave up and down giving the appearance that the pencil is made of rubber. (special thanks to Mills for reminding me of that one)

• The first people who started numbering pencils (#1-4 on the hardness of the graphite) was Henry David Thoreau and his dad. They made pencils.





• The word "rubber" actually came from eraser tips - because you rub it on paper.





• The metal connector of eraser and pencil has a name: ferrule. It's a combination of 2 Latin words meaning small iron bracelet.





• It's been a few hundred years since pencils used actual lead.

You are very welcome.

I got Dash a new hat (and some other clothes). He loves it. Have you ever heard the phrase "Look good - feel good"? When he wears this hat, he exudes that phrase. It's almost like he struts a little. Everybody always says, "Oh I love your hat!" to him so why not? He even naturally wears it off to the side a little.

In the last 12 hours, Dash has set an all-time record for number of times he's told me he loves me. And it's not even close. For some reason, and I don't even care why, he's been all about the love. I love it. Don't stop buddy.

My mom has been taking Dash to the library on Thursday's (Kelso library

is now down at the 3 Rivers Mall). They have a "kids day" there where they can read, color, use the computers, etc. Sounds cool. Dash really likes it.

Happy St. Patrick's Day. Drive all the snakes out of your yard, or wear green, or drink a beer, or what ever suits you best for today.

I actually posted this on the 17th, not the 15th.

Matters.

Be Mine

Happy St.Valentine's Day today. With a quick search on Catholic.org and wikipedia I can safely say that little is known about who (or how many) Saint Valentine is or what he did. He's supposed to be the patron saint of young people, love and happy marriage. So with that, bless your other today, or everyday really, and though flowers and chocolates are nice, the more specific you can be with your other, the better the response.

If you're feeling particularly sappy, I encourage you to look at http://kissssing.blogspot.com It's got cool old pictures and quotes from people, movies and songs dealing with love. For example:

"When you're in love you never really know whether your elation comes from the qualities of the one you love, or if it attributes them to her; whether the light which surrounds her like a halo comes from you, from her, or from the meeting of your sparks." - Natalie Clifford Barney

And for any of you sans boyfriend/girlfriend, try this hilarious website out: www.pickuphelp.com

A Grander Scheme

**Author's Note: I don't claim to know much about any sort of physics and I juuust know enough math to be dangerous - and this post touches on both. Which is to say that there's a pretty good chance I'll have said something inaccurate before it's all said and done. You'll find it amusing or incredibly boring. I don't mean to "high-brow" anyone and I'm not speaking just to sound smart. I really like stuff like this.

I was visiting with another math teacher (RR) the other day after school and we shared some things that we’ve heard over the years dealing with math/science and spirituality. Stuff like that really intrigues me. I get geeked out over it. I’m easily impressed with how intelligent people can be and the insights they posses. RR was telling me how a pastor friend of his (who is also a chemical engineer) was explaining why it was so hard for people to understand what Jesus was saying to them (parables, or like when he told Nicodemus he had to be “born again” - Nicodemus took a literal meaning, while Jesus meant it in a Spiritual context). When Jesus spoke, it was usually on a completely different plane, or level, than people were used to hearing so many didn’t grasp the initial or true meaning. This made sense to me because there are examples in the Bible where people didn’t understand, or took an incorrect meaning away from what was said. The friend went on to say that when Jesus spoke it was from a Quantum level of understanding (or Einsteinian) whereas we’re thinking more on a Classical (or Newtonian/Galilean) level.

• {A brief explanation of the two: Classical Mechanics, as best as I know, are the studies of how “parts” move and work together - thermodynamics, astrophysics, energy conservation, gravitational laws, electricity, hydraulics, hydrodynamic pressure, electromagnetic induction, biomechanics, accoustics, etc. Think Leonardo DaVinci, Isaac Newton, Galileo, Michael Faraday, Daniel Bernoulli, Rudolf Clausius.... Quantum Mechanics are, again as best as I know, are how the parts of the “parts” move and work together - special relativity, particle physics, nuclear physics, condensed matter physics, quantum statistical mechanics, string theory, - even nanotechnology. Think Albert Einstein, Steven Hawking, John Dalton. To dumb-it waaaay down it’s like comparing the Industrial Age of 100 years ago with the Technological Age of today: though one is more advanced than the other, you still need the industrial to explain the technological.}

Both ways are used to explain the world we live in, but take very different approaches. There is currently little, if anything, that connects the two approaches into a Grand Unified Theory, but both have their place in the world and are necessary. For the sake of the analogy, Quantum Mechanics takes Classical Mechanics to another completely different level. It’s like the difference between being able to explain what happens on Earth vs. being able to explain what happens with anything anywhere. If there happens to be a particle physicist reading this, I apologize for my simplistic take to complex things....all that to say that it’s probably typical for us not to “get” God. My little brain is not capable of understanding all that God is about. When He tells me to do something, he sees what that will lead to 1,000 decisions later, whereas I have difficulty seeing the second outcome, if I’m lucky! The good news is that I don’t have to know everything about God to know that He loves me and made me for a reason.

• {If I knew anything about physics I’d break into how Light can behave as though it’s made up of particles, but can also behave as though it’s made up of waves - though they seem to conflict each other, both can be used to describe what Light is. Make your own analogy here: }
  

To put it yet another way (in more familiar terms to me) God is theoretical probability and I’m experimental (actual) probability. If I toss a coin 100 times, I should, in theory, get “tails” 50 times. Now if I actually take a coin and toss it 100 times, I’m likely to get other amounts of tails like 46, 51, 39, 59 or 48. Even if I try this experiment 10 more times, it’s a lot more likely that I’ll get amounts other than 50. But even if once and awhile I actually get 50 tails, the total sum of my coin tosses probably isn’t 50% tails. But here’s the really cool part: theoretical probablilty and experimental probability can only be related to each other if you do something abstract that is mathematically impossible!. . . .(excited yet?) Meaning, the experimental probability and the theoretical probability will end up agreeing (or being the same) if you toss the coin infinity times! (You can try it, but...) It’s called the Law of Large Numbers. The only way God and I are going to be on the same page is if a miracle happens - and that miracle is Jesus. He is that abstract idea (both God and man) that did the impossible (died for MY sins for Love’s sake) and tied together two things that were never going to meet (me and God). There. I just casually proved that Jesus = infinity. Haha!

Boy, that was a mouthful. My head hurts a little.

Kind of on the same lines, RR also shared with me something he read relating the importance of balancing Works and Faith. Works without Faith is lacking meaning and is empty. Faith without Works is shallow and is also empty. Only when the two are working together do they greatly increase the significance of the Faith and the Works. The same is true with our words and our deeds - for us to be believed, or to be reliable, or to be trustworthy, we aught to “walk the walk and talk the talk”. Much like when you strike a tuning fork, you hear a single, pure, note because the two prongs are vibrating together (or working together) for the purpose for which it was made. Take one of the prongs away and do you know what you hear? Well...I don’t really know because I’ve never done it, but I know it’s not a single, pure note. Actually, I do know - there’s no noise. One prong, without the other, does not give the desired affect. Faith without Works and words without action will not give the desired affect.

I never stop being amazed how God reveals himself to people - even using science and math!

Finally, for you hoops lovers, youtube "Larry Bird Greatest passer of all time" and enjoy.

Winter Break (my heart)

First, let me get the sad part out of the way. I've been dreading typing this post for almost two weeks now. You see, my dog Murdok passed away a few days before Christmas. So indulge me for a minute as I write his Obituary and recall fonder times with my dog.

Murdok Lemiere died Tuesday Dec. 21st. His only known surviving relative is his (fraternal) twin brother Buster "Ace" Lemiere. There was no service, but was buried in the forrests of Mt. Brynion under a stone displaying his name and paw prints from when he was a pup. Murdok accepted Christ as a young puppy and is probably laying at the foot of a family member who has gone ahead like Oscar or Maurice. He is a cancer survivor. He liked to play "chase". He loved peanut butter. He was not a good dog, he was the best dog.

Ok, that was lame. Murdok had a stroke (we think) and was only moving his head for a few days - didn't get up to eat or go to the bathroom or anything. So the decision was made to have him put to sleep. It really was the right thing to do, but man was it hard. I knew it would be, but it was harder than I expected. Eric went with me. Murdy (as Dash calls him) was almost 10 years old and really engrained himself into my family - as any good pet will. He's been in family Christmas photos, was my roomate for 6 years, retired up to Mt Bryinion with my parents when Leah got pregnant and made himself a fixture up on the hill. Needless to say, I miss him. I was petting his head as they gave him his shot, and crying about as uncontrollably as I get. Eric cried too. Anyone who has ever had to do that knows it's really sad. Almost unreal. He looked good and was soft, and I imagine that if I dug him back up, he'd still be soft. I love that dog and I may not get another one for a very, very long time. Eric did a nice job memorializing him on his blog and you should check it out.

I currently have a letter to the Pope requesting Murdok be considered for Saint-hood. From what I hear, to be a saint you have to perform 3 miracles. Murd is well beyond 3. First off, being born all white makes him very likely to be born deaf or blind or both. He was healthy and the largest of the litter. Second, he warmed the heart of my mom - to the point of sharing a bed (not in the Biblical sense) with her. This has never been done before. Mom has a history of sending all the dogs we've ever gotten (as kids) to the Pound. Yes, that's a miracle. Thirdly, I completely ran over him with my back tire going 30mph down MtBrynion and he ran off with only a few little cuts. Later I would learn that he tore his ACL in his back left leg, but still, I ran over him! Fourthly, he was about to turn 10 years old. There's no way a white Boxer should live that long. I give you: St. Murdok of Brynion!

I have a lot of stories about the dogs, but I'll only share one. Whenever Murdok slept with me, he wouldn't settle in until his head was on some part of me. My arm, leg, torso, face, whatever. Snuggler. Dash has been telling people Murdok died ever since I told him. My boys miss him, and so do I. The dog who talked like Homestar, was my ace-in-the-hole, my captain of the team and had the heart of a champion, will not be replaced. Buster is doing ok, thanks for asking.


Christmas with two boys who love guns and Legos will always be fun. Both boys are spoiled and get many gifts. But when people ask Dash what he got for Christmas, his most common response is "orange Tick-Tacks". To say he loves them would understate how quickly he dispatched an oversized Tick-Tack Pack.

Dash went to the dentist over the break and got a cavity filled. He did so well! Didn't cry at all until the very end when they painted on some flouride on his teeth (didn't like the taste).


I'm very blessed to have the family I have. Experience has taught me that a family who is flawed, but will tell you truth and act on it (instead of hoping for the best), is perfect. I love them.

Why do people say "horsesh*t"? Like a horse's poo is so foul?

And one more time, just for fun, Magnum, Rick and Higgins.

It's real, and it's fabulous.