Monthly Archives: December 2006


I went and read Kim’s blog, and surprise surprise, she had actually updated it! Not only that, but she did the funky meme thing, and took the Seduction Quiz that Maryanne took a few days ago. Now, there’s no way I’ll jump on a bandwagon if only one person is doing it, but two or more? I’m totally there.

Now, I will admit that I was initially bummed at getting the same rating as Maryanne, but then I remembered how Maryanne is my favorite cousin because she’s so awesome, uses her powers for good, and can solve the world’s problems through cuddling.

And there’s nothing wrong with that. Just don’t try to cuddle me while you’re chewing something.

Going for the gold (standard)

Well, I’ve decided to try my hand at economics. I’m starting with reading The Wealth of Nations, by Adam Smith. I have a really nifty hardbound copy that my neat-o sister gave to me for Christmas a while back, and it survived the fire in great shape.

I’m really hoping it’ll be my ticket to a Nobel prize, but I’m worried that I’m not a genius at it, like that Beautiful Mind guy. Except, I’m not a loony like he was.

That’s something that’s worried me for a while – I don’t think I’m defective enough to be a genius.
As far as I know, all the great artists and thinkers were pulling french fries from the curly fry bin, if you know what I mean. Even that movie The Aviator showed Hughes to have an assortment of aberrations, from fearing germs to whatever else it was. Or maybe it’s just that DiCaprio is so great at playing retards, like in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.

But enough about them, this blog is about me. I’m not even going to mention Kim, either.

I’ve been a somewhat decent artist – never considered myself “good,” but I can string some light and shadow into an illustration. Today I found my pack of drawings from an art class a few years ago, and there’s some decent drawings in there.

But I’m not great.

I can write a paragraph or two, and sometimes it’s entertaining. But I suck at dialog and character development, so novel writing is definitely out of reach. On the other hand, I’ve written a couple nearly proficient children’s books, which would be really nifty if I could illustrate them.

And now, economics. Will I contribute anything great to the world? Will I have huge flashes of insight that normally come to people who’s brains are firing on surplus cylinders?

Who knows. But, today I went and buzzed my hair off because it was feeling too long and greasy, and it’s only been about two or three weeks since my last buzz. And then I remembered that I can’t stand listening to people chew. I like playing with tape on my fingers just like Cindy, and she’s a pretty darn good artist. Do those count as funky eccentricities? Am I sufficiently handicapped in one area to allow me to utterly excel in others?

In the immortal words of The Tick, “I’m hoping I’m just abnormal enough!”

Fond memories

One of my fondest memories of Amy is:

After our house fire, we were staying at our Bishop’s house, in the upstairs. There were three bedrooms up there, plus a sofabed in the lobby type area at the top of the stairs, so we each got our own room.

One night, I discovered Amy sound asleep in my bed. I plucked her up, ever so gently so as to not disturb her slumber, and carried her over to her sofabed.

Now, she was too long to fit broadside through the doorway, so being as ultra-considerate as I am, I swung her a bit sideways, to fit diagonally through the door.

Unfortunately, her feet bonked one side of the doorway.

To compensate, I swung her to the right, to swing her feet through.

Unfortunately, that bonked her head into the door with a nice clunk.

Happily, and to this day, that made me laugh. I’m pretty sure it was out loud, too. But I still didn’t want to wake her, so I snickered quietly, finally got her out the door, and put her in her bed.

I’m pretty sure I slept soundly after that, and I still get a good chuckle every time I remember it.

Ah the joys of being a dad.

People watching

So on Sunday at church, I was again looking sitting there listening intently to whatever was going on, paying attention really well, when I suddenly noticed that the fellow in front of me had really long eyelashes.

But not all his eyelashes were long, just a few stretched up from his eyelid to his eyebrow. It was rather odd, seeing a hair stretch across the vast expanse of eyelid up into the brow. It was quite distracting, in fact. Even more so, seeing a few wild hairs bridging the gap like that. Why did they curl back so far?

But then he blinked, and his eyelashes didn’t move!

Startled, I stared more intently than ever. I really hope the lesson was not good, because I didn’t catch any of it, I was focused solely on solving the mystery of the unmoving eyelash.

I didn’t want to lean forward and look directly into his face, so I just kinda nonchalantly stared at his hairs, trying to figure out how they were attached.

He didn’t have bushy eyebrows, and I realized he didn’t have long eyelashes, either. Turns out, from his otherwise normal eyebrows, there were a few super long hairs that drooped down into his eyes.

How could you live like that? Always having a hair or two dangling down into your eyes. That’s a pretty rough condition, right up there with pigeon toes and bad dandruff.

But why doesn’t he get one of those Personal Trimmers and standardize the length of those things? Weird.