A Stressful Start to September

I am worn out today. Some good things happened, but there was also a lot of stress. Here’s how my day unfolded.

In the morning, I had to convince Creegan he was going to preschool. He’s never been as defiant about it as he was today. In fact, in my opinion, he’s never quite qualified for the label “defiant” before, even when he has seemed less than enthusiastic about going to preschool. The problem is, he stayed home yesterday with an incessant cough. This particular preschool takes illness very seriously due to the medical conditions of some of its students, so we kept Beegy far away. Today, he tried to tell me he was still coughing, but it was always in the form of demonstrating it to me, not something I overheard him doing naturally. Anyway, Creegan’s dragging feet made this morning move slowly, and I thought we’d be late to his school. But we got there much more quickly than I expected and were basically arriving in perfect timing. But that was some mild stress to start the day.

While Creegan was in school, I went and parked in a nearby shopping center and read various things I had brought with me—books on theology, the owners’ manual for my new (but used) Honda Accord, etc. I redid the car radio presets to my satisfaction and let the music play while I read. I was pleased that the time passed as easily as it did. I had my car window down, and I was enjoying the day. After a while, it started to feel rather hot with the sun blaring on me. I didn’t want to waste gas, so I didn’t want to run the car, but I thought it’d be nice to find some shade. So I went to start the car and move it somewhere a bit cooler. I turned the key and … nothing. “Are you kidding me?!?!” I yelled. I couldn’t believe it. Less than a week of having the car and I was already having a problem! But I immediately knew what the problem was, and I knew it was my fault. I had (unintentionally) been listening to the radio (for nearly 90 minutes) with the key turned further in the ignition than is necessary. I had turned it past the first stop (auxiliary mode?) that makes listening to the radio possible and was in what I believe is called the “on” position without having turned over the engine. So, I was sucking battery juice like a 2nd grader sucking down Capri Sun. I couldn’t believe my stupidity. I turned off the car and waited several minutes, trying to keep my calm. I then tried the car again. Nothing. At this stage, I become almost panicky, realizing that Creegan needs to be picked up in the relatively near future and I have no way to contact his school. I start calling my parents, who live close by. I make multiple calls to both my dad’s and my mom’s cell phones. No answer. Which is normal for them. They rarely answer. But being used to them not answering is not helpful. If anything, it makes it all the more irksome. I call my sister Khrystine, because I know my dad was going to pick her up sometime this morning. She answers, fortunately. I tell her my situation. She hasn’t yet been picked up by my dad, who is on his way to get her—and hence quickly going in the opposite direction of me. But there’s nothing more I can do.

Thankfully, my mom then calls me back. As well as I can in my flustered frustration, I tell her the scenario and ask if she can take me to get Creegan. Thankfully, she can. Thankfully, she lives only a couple of blocks away from where I’m stranded. Thankfully, Creegan is also incredibly close by. Thankfully, she picks me up and we get to Creegan’s school in what is once again perfect timing. At this point, I calm down quite a bit. Getting Creegan was my #1 concern, and the task is now complete. Breathe. Mom takes us back to the shopping center. I run into a store to pee (because I really needed to at this point), and by the time I come out, my dad and Khrystine are already waiting at my dead car. Seconds later, my brother, who had been contacted by my dad, pulls up to jumpstart the car. Because I’m aware of what happened, I am 99% sure a jumpstart should remedy the situation, and it does. The engine turns over. All is well. But shee-it. Stress, stress, stress!

With almost enough of us on scene to consider it a family reunion, my dad treats us all to lunch. We head out west to a diner called Virg’s that, I now know, is notorious for serving monstrous portions of food. I get the small version of a breakfast burrito stuffed with hash browns, eggs, ham, and smothered in melted cheese and chile verde. I supplement it with a single pancake on the side. It’s a bona fide feast. Tantalized by a photo in the menu, Creegan orders a comically long corn dog (and a side of tater tots). The restaurant has Diet Mountain Dew on tap, which brings joy to my heart, except it ends up tasting terrible and has something wrong with it and can’t be fixed. So, I have to settle for Diet Pepsi. The next hour or so is relatively peaceful.

The couple of hours I spend at home in the afternoon are pleasant but brief. I then head to Back to School Night for Eddie and Peter. Per Melanie’s request, I show up early to help her out in her classroom before the official festivities begin. She takes Eddie and Peter out to dinner first and shows up 20 minutes later than when we were supposed to meet. It’s chaos for the first little while, with kids demanding something from a vending machine that supposedly exists but we cannot find without Melanie’s help. The initial stuff for Back to School Night is starting and we’re still having to placate the kids by pumping what seems like hundreds of nickels into a vending machine in order to get enough to buy a pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Then we rush to the auditorium, where of course there are no seats left. The people up front speak into a microphone that does absolutely no good for someone like me in the back, what with the unbelievable noise going on all around me. From what I can tell, 50% of the audience isn’t even trying to be quiet while the speech is going on. I understand literally almost nothing of what is said. Meanwhile, Peter and Creegan keep circling around me, taunting each other and making my body feel like some sort of toy in the process. I want to scream. I eventually give up on whatever is being said in the auditorium and head to Eddie’s classroom. The nice thing about leaving the auditorium early is that nobody is at the classroom other than the teacher. It’s easy-breezy. Even when get to Peter’s classroom next, no other parents are roaming around just yet. We wrap up pretty quickly. The day is done, and I couldn’t be happier.

That is my September so far.

Firsts

First day of 2nd grade and 4th grade, for Peter and Eddie, respectively. They are attending school where Melanie teaches, which means it’s a brand new school for each of them. Neither one is too enthusiastic about being in school, but they are doing well with it, considering.

First day of preschool for Creegan. Being the third child, transitions are easy-breezy for this guy. No big whoop. Creegan was excited for preschool and never once gave the tiniest hint of a faint glimmer of a crap that I was leaving him behind in a building he’d never before seen with people he’d never before met. He’s also been doing an online preschool, and I’m proud of how positive he is about it and how well he’s doing. It’s been fun for me to be the one taking him and picking him up from school every day, and also working with him as he does online preschool. There are times I really relish my current stay-at-home dad status.

First trip to R&R BBQ. Ever since word of mouth and a few local media resources led me to believe R&R BBQ is the premier BBQ restaurant along the Wasatch Front, it has ranked quite high on my list of must-try eateries. After tonight, I can happily move R&R BBQ to a spot high on my list of verified good SLC eats. It was very, very good, in fact. I wish I had tried more of the standard BBQ fare, but I opted instead for the Caveman burger. I had two reasons for doing this: (1) the burger has been highly recommended by friends, and (2) it happened to be the special of the day. Those two reasons acted as the spermatozoon and ovum that coalesced in my mental womb and left me pregnant with a decision, a decision to which I would shortly give birth when asked, “Can I take your order?” I also got some fries.

Melanie ordered the beef brisket with a side of hush puppies and mashed potatoes. I had a small bite of each and found them all quite tasty. I can hardly wait to go back and get some brisket myself. Which is not to say I was disappointed with the Caveman burger. Not at all. It was a yummy and indulgent burger featuring not only a ground beef patty, but butterflied links of smoked Andouille sausage and a helping of pulled pork, all topped with fried jalapenos, melted Monterey Jack cheese, and sweet BBQ sauce. The logistics of getting such a monstrous sandwich into your mouth is something that must be worked out with care and precision, but it’s well worth it. And the side of fries, which usually leave something to be desired at BBQ places, was thoroughly enjoyable as well. I’m sold.

Our first Honda. After spending an exorbitant amount of time researching used vehicles, two things became more and more important and non-negotiable for me. One, I wanted the car to be certified. A certified used car is backed by the original manufacturer, albeit not to the extent that a brand new car is. Still, most certified cars have enough warranties in place to dispel any paranoia one might have about unknowingly buying a lemon—something I’ve regrettably experienced in the past. In addition to peace of mind, buying a certified used car made me feel that taking the vehicle to a mechanic before committing to a purchase was unnecessary. That would save oodles of time and hassle, and that’s what I wanted. Two, I wanted a car I felt confident could go 150,000 to 200,000 miles while remaining a decent car. I wanted reliability and dependability, and that meant I wanted either a Toyota or a Honda. I had eyed several other vehicles, but I just didn’t feel as safe or reassured about them. Once I knew I wanted a Toyota or a Honda, I knew it would be either a Camry or an Accord. Both are extremely well-reviewed by the likes of U.S. News & World Report, J.D. Power, Consumer Reports, Kelley Blue Book Expert Reviews, and a host of others, not to mention their outstanding word-of-mouth reputations. With three growing sons, Melanie and I also felt it time to upgrade to a midsize, which meant Toyota Corollas and Honda Civics just weren’t going to cut it. All along, I had been determined to get a car with decent gas mileage, a low odometer reading, and a squeaky clean Carfax report. I found some Camrys that came close to fitting the bill—ones that we probably could’ve financed for $35–$50 less per month—but they either had twice the mileage of the Honda or they just plain looked shoddier. Usually both. Maybe it sounds picky, but I didn’t want a ketchup red car with beige, slightly stained seats. The best Camry I found had approximately 3,000 fewer miles on it and would’ve been about $18 less per month (I assume) to finance than the Honda. But despite having a black exterior, it also had the beige, stained interior and was a year older than the Honda. With these things in mind, the Honda beckoned. And beckoned. And so, around 7 PM on Wednesday night, I took to the Honda dealer and test drove the Honda. It felt silky smooth, whether on the freeway or in stop-and-go traffic. Looks-wise, it couldn’t have been a better fit for me: silver on the outside, black on the inside. (I’ve long dreamed of owning a silver car.) A bevy of fun little features added to the appeal, although they certainly weren’t important enough to make or break the deal. Such features include radio controls on the steering wheel, a rearview camera, a screen that displays not only what radio station you’re listening to but (depending on the station) the artist and song, precise temperature control with the A/C, and cup holders. Okay, I’m kidding about the cup holders: they weren’t negotiable. The cup holders in our Corolla folded out but had become inoperable and thus hadn’t been usable in years. As lame as it may sound, the cup holders in our new Accord are among my very favorite features. I absolutely love ‘em!

So, yes, Melanie and I decided to push forward with financing the Accord. I’ll spare you the details and say simply that I left the car dealership at 11 PM feeling quite good about the deal I had gotten. Make no mistake, I was feeling very anxious, too. There’s no way I could buy a car without feeling anxious, regardless of the price and regardless of the suspected reliability of the car. It’s just too major a purchase to be calm about it. But I was pleasantly surprised with our APR—turns out we have a pretty decent credit score!—and walked away with some nice incentives, such as free safety and emissions testing for life, free oil changes for the next several years, etc. Knowing it’s a Honda also makes me feel way better than I otherwise would. I trust that we have made a sound investment, which is not how I’d feel if we had purchased almost anything else.

Up in Smoke

The last 10 days or so have been a wild ride. Eddie and Peter went back to school. Creegan started preschool. After a decade-long hiatus, Melanie is once again living her dream of being a Kindergarten teacher. Life is busy. Aside from the minor ways in which I assist with everything listed above—and my contributions to most of these things are very, very minor, I readily admit—I have spent much of the last week researching cars. If you read this blog, you are probably Melanie, my mom, or me, so you already know this, but Melanie and I no longer own a functioning automobile. After nearly eight years of faithful service to my family and a brief but awe-inspiring battle with fire, our Toyota Corolla passed away on Sunday, August 16th. It was 16 years old.



To tell this story properly, I need to go back to Saturday, August 15th. On the evening of said date, I was going to head out and run some errands. Up until this point, our car had been working just fine. But when I started the car that evening, it was shuddering and convulsing the way cars often do when they’re about to stall. I backed out of the driveway to see if using the gas would help the car come to its senses, but it did not. I quickly pulled back into the driveway, shut off the car, waited a moment, and restarted the car. Nothing had changed. I again shut off the car and decided to check the oil. It made no sense to me that oil would be the problem, but the only problem I’ve known our car to have (and I’m not sure it’s a “problem” so much as a nuisance) is that it burns a lot of oil. The oil was just at the minimum level line, so I topped it off, not really seeing how this could possibly affect anything. But being that it was the only thing I knew how to do, I did it. It didn’t help. When I restarted the car, it was still having its spasms. I decided to take it for a spin around the block, just to see if anything would change. I backed out of the driveway and the car immediately died. When I turned the key, it started back up without a problem, which gave me the tiniest bit of comfort. I then drove around the block.



The car made it around the block, but it was shaky the entire time. Also, pushing on the accelerator seemed to make little to no difference in how fast the car would go. It topped out just above the speed any automatic car would go if you put it in drive and merely took your foot off the brake. I returned home and let the car sit. Not much later, Melanie’s dad came home. He knows much, much, much more about cars than I do and has been roped into fixing all of his kids’ cars on numerous occasions. We asked him to look over the Corolla. He did so, reporting back to us that he expected it was the spark plugs. As I understand it, he replaced the spark plugs, but it didn’t help. I’m not entirely sure what all he looked at or tried, but he eventually came to us and said the car was now working fine, noting that the spark plug wires had been the true culprit. We rejoiced in once again having an operating vehicle and went to sleep peacefully that night.



On Sunday morning, we got ready for church and loaded ourselves into the car. It started up beautifully. Everything seemed fine. Well, sort of. The check engine light was on—but it had come on the night before, and I know those lights don’t always go out immediately after you fix something. More worrisome to me was the strong smell of gasoline. It was very strong. I know sometimes after a car is worked on, it stinks or smells strongly of this or that chemical or what have you. I assumed that’s all it was, and we started our 20-ish minute drive to church. The smell dissipated as we drove, which seemed like a good sign. And yet whenever we stopped at a stoplight, it became quite intense again. Ridiculously and unbearably strong. I expressed concern about it. Melanie thought we should continue and just ask her dad about it later. Clearly, neither of us thought it was of such importance that we shouldn’t be driving the vehicle. And so we continued.



Aside from the smell of gasoline, everything went fine and dandy until just after Melanie and I exited the freeway. We stopped in the left turn lane at a red light just a few blocks from our church. While stopped, I suddenly noticed the oil light and battery light on the dash become illuminated. The car may have stalled, which would explain those lights coming on. I think it probably did, but I didn’t really have time to think about it before smoke started to billow out from under the driver’s side of the hood. I think I had just enough time for “oh crap” or some such sentiment to pass through my mind before a flame shot out from underneath the hood. I say “shot out” because it flared up enough to be seen, but I don’t want to be overly dramatic. It wasn’t something I’d want to describe as “explosive,” although people keep using the word “exploded” when they talk about the event with me. Regardless, I didn’t feel a sense of panic, but I did recognize the urgency of the situation and immediately told my family to get out. Melanie assisted Edison and Peter, who exited the car on the passenger side. I helped Creegan, who had been sitting behind the driver’s seat. We hurried over to the gas station on the southeast corner of the street and watched as the smoke being belched out from underneath the hood increased and darkened. Peter and Creegan were crying. Melanie was too. Eddie seemed fascinated by it all, although I think his relatively positive demeanor was probably his way of dealing with such an intense situation. (I have seen a similar response in myself when big things have happened.) Melanie called her dad and 911. I called our associate pastor and let him know we wouldn’t be at church, something that seemed important only because Melanie was slated to teach the Sunday school class for young children. A very kind man, without any request from us, ran over to our car and grabbed some stuff out of it (including the Crockpot full of food we were bringing for the potluck after church). A very kind woman offered to let our kids sit in her car and listen to music to try to put them at ease. This man and woman were the first heroes on the scene. Others would soon arrive.



When the fire department arrived, they went to town on our car. They sprayed it down, then proceeded to saw into our hood and peel it open can-opener style. For whatever reason, they also smashed the driver’s side window. Melanie’s dad had arrived on the scene to take us back home. We waited for the hubbub to die down, at which point we were allowed to collect more belongings from our car. It was a good thing. Melanie had her work ID in the car, we had car seats in the back, and various other little things were gathered. Our beloved Corolla was then towed away. We went home, some of us more traumatized than others. (For whatever reason, I never felt too distraught by it all. “That’s a bummer” probably summarizes quite well how I felt about it.) Melanie contacted the insurance company and learned that we could pick up a rental car the next morning. We tried to spend the rest of our Sunday in as relaxed a manner as was possible.



Since approximately 8 AM on Monday, August 17th, Melanie and I have been driving a rental car—a little black Fiat that all too frequently has to downshift in order to pick up speed—as we wait on a settlement from our insurance company (which has indeed declared our Corolla a “total loss”). I have spent copious hours online researching used cars. The bulk of my time in the last week or so has been spent on this. It’s probably overkill, but I always get stressed over major purchases and want to be smart about it. Used cars in particular cause me stress, because it feels like such a crapshoot. What’s more, I’m trying to determine the best plan for getting us into two cars as soon as possible. Melanie and I had been talking about getting another car and letting the Corolla become our secondary car. We had talked about this the day before such plans quite literally went up in smoke. That’s the biggest disappointment about losing the Corolla—not that we have to buy another car now, but that doing so gets us no further ahead in being a two-car family. With Melanie’s new income, I am hopeful that we can yet pull it off to have two cars. But figuring out more than one decent used car, at least one of which must be relatively cheap, only adds to the stress.



I will conclude with the four images I snapped on my cell phone. My cell phone camera is quite shoddy, so you get what you get. Enjoy!

A Final Post from Tallahassee

This will be my final blog post written from Tallahassee.

Probably.

While we are mostly packed up and ready to go, we thought we were loading up a trailer this morning. As you may recall, Melanie’s parents are driving out to meet us with a large trailer that they own. That was to be our mode of moving, and we expected them to arrive last night so that we could load the trailer this morning. We then figured we’d officially depart Tallahassee on Sunday morning.

Then disaster struck.

On the way out, Melanie’s parents broke down. They had to get a new alternator. We thought this might delay them, but the work was done quickly and we were relieved to learn that they would still make to Tallahassee at the regularly scheduled time. But then, yesterday, their truck broke down again. Only the situation was much worse. The truck very nearly burst into flames. Everything under the hood was so hot that mechanics couldn’t do anything with it for quite some time. The heat damaged tons of stuff. The computer was fried, and before they even got done looking things over, they knew it would cost at least $4,000 to fix the truck, just for the parts. No labor included.

Moving postponed.

Although it’s not Melanie’s and my fault, we both feel some residual guilt that her parents are in this situation. I don’t know how they are handling it, but I feel terrible for them. The damage was so bad and would be so expensive to fix, they have decided to buy a new truck. Their generosity of coming out to help us move has resulted in them having to buy a new vehicle. They are already on their way to us again, and will be here tonight. We can then load up tomorrow. I’m not sure if we’ll try to leave soon after loading up, trying not to lose any more time, or if we’ll try to catch our breath and leave on Monday morning. It doesn’t really matter for Melanie and me, thankfully. But Melanie’s dad has taken time off work to come help us out. You can see how the guilt adds up, right?

To focus on good news, we sold several big items in the last week or so. We’ve sold many things for very little, so it’s not like we’re raking in the dough. That’s not the point. It’s just nice to simplify. And yes, we’ve given away some things for free. But the most wonderful news is that we sold our minivan, the one that gave us relentless trouble after we first bought it. The van wasn’t even in working condition when we sold it, so we feel pretty lucky. The guy that came and looked it over knew what he was doing and got it running. We then sold it to him for half of what we were asking, which is about what we had hoped to get out of it. We honestly thought it might end up being donated to Goodwill, so the fact that we got anything out of it feels like reason to celebrate. We are stoked. It will help us immensely.

And that’s that. Although I guess it’s worth mentioning that, even with our home packed up in boxes, I haven’t started to feel weird about moving. I thought it would hit me by now, but apparently it’s a delayed reaction. Or maybe I’m more mentally prepared for the change than I expected. I suspect it’s just a delay, but we’ll see.

Good News, Bad News , Good News, Bad News, Bad News, Bad News, Bad News

GOOD NEWS! Melanie celebrated her birthday last week! We had a ton of fun. I hope to write about it in more detail in the near future.

BAD NEWS! Something died in my office at school, and it has reeked to high heaven for a couple of weeks now! Gross!

GOOD NEWS! I’ve agreed to be a blog manager for Exploring Sainthood. This is a project I care about, and I’m grateful to be able to contribute to it in a more significant way. Here’s hoping I can help it flourish!

BAD NEWS! The job I was really excited about and that I thought I’d be perfect for? They rejected me! Where will I be in a few months from now? Literally, no clue whatsoever!

BAD NEWS! I went into general conference weekend feeling excited and hopeful that I would feel spiritually nourished. Instead, I have been met with many messages of distrust, dismissal, and dogmatism. I know many people who are hurting because of what they are hearing from the pulpit.

BAD NEWS! Our water heater is broken! No hot water whatsoever right now!

BAD NEWS! Our car ignition was messed up and had to be replaced this week! Goodbye, hundreds of dollars! At least all of our car door handles are working properly! Oh, wait! Not a single one of them is!

Potpourri No. 36

Light portions o’ life…

Summertime, Summertime, Sum- Sum- Summertime
While my summer break is halfway over, this marks the first full week that Edison (and thus Melanie) is relieved of school duties. Eddie was very excited for his summer break to begin, and so far it’s going well. Melanie’s planned enough activities to keep the kids fairly busy thus far. But adjustments are never completely easy, and the kids are a bit more unruly now that their days are a little less structured. Oddly, the kids’ freedom is having an effect on me, such that I feel more in vacation mode than I should. I’ve been slacking a bit during these last few days. I’ve loved it, but I need to get back on track. (Writing this blog isn’t helping, but oh well.) It’s crazy to think that in less than three months, Eddie will be in 2nd grade and Peter will be in Kindergarten! I guess it’s just me that isn’t making any progress!

More Summer…
It’s 99.99% official that Melanie, the kids, and I will indeed be heading to Utah for an as-of-yet undetermined amount of time in August. We’ve been wishy-washy about committing to the idea of traveling home this year, but with my little sister planning to get married (!!!) in the next couple of months, how can we not? Details are forthcoming, so stay tuned!

D’oh-Nuts
Last night while lounging in front of the TV, Melanie and I opened up some crumb donut gems we had purchased earlier in the day. I took a bite and said something like, “What in the—?” The taste was strange. It had a vibrant flavor, almost amplified in its sweetness but not entirely dessert-like. The thought that came immediately to mind was that the donut tasted a bit like green onion. (Gag!) I swallowed the piece in my mouth, and Melanie immediately showed me what appeared to be mold growing on the donut gem in her hand. I assume it was mold, anyway. Perhaps the preservatives affect the way mold can grow on pre-packaged baked goods, but the growth wasn’t green or blue. Instead, it basically looked like a cobweb had grown in the hole in the middle of the donut. I checked another donut, and it was the same. I then looked at the packaging and could not find an expiration date anywhere, which was both bizarre and unsettling. Needless to say, I felt rather disgusted that I had probably swallowed a mold cobweb. I then drank a lot of Diet Mountain Dew, hoping the soda would kill whatever bacteria had gotten into my stomach. I never puked, so I guess the soda was an inspired move on my part.

Jean-Clod Damn Van
I’ve written numerous times about the problems we’ve experienced with our minivan. Somehow, almost magically, the latter half of 2012 was a miraculous time for the van. There weren’t any issues with the van for several months. Then, out of nowhere, on the day Melanie’s parents flew into town to visit us in February, the van didn’t start. Fortunately, Melanie’s dad got it running for us (as I wrote about here) and there weren’t any problems for over two months. Then, a few weeks ago, a hose burst in the van that sent coolant all over the place. It was at the end of my semester, so I put fixing the van on hold. Well, I went to start the van a few days ago, and it won’t start. The battery seems to have at least some juice in it, but it won’t turn over. Now what do I do? I don’t know about these things, and we don’t have money. We get along quite well with just the Corolla, but I’ll soon be heading to campus five days a week and it would be nice to have two working vehicles. Curse this van. Curse it to heck.

You’ve Got a Friend
I’m not exaggerating when I say that I rarely talk to anyone other than my wife and kids. When school’s in session and I’m a TA, I talk to whatever teacher I work for. That accounts for maybe 10-20 minutes of socializing per week. Other than that, I don’t have much occasion to talk to people. I engage in small talk with some people at church, I say things like “Hi” and “Thanks” to the cashiers at the grocery store or the gas station, and I make the occasional comment on Facebook. But I don’t have friends that I hang out with. For the most part, I’m fine with this. I honestly don’t know a lot of people that I feel inclined to hang out with. This has changed recently, however. Melanie has become good friends with a woman who goes to our church, and I kept hearing things about this woman and her husband that made me think they were my kind of people. I hoped we’d get together sometime as a group, and on Saturday, they spontaneously invited us over to dinner. We had a great time. Eddie, Peter, and Creegan loved playing with this other couple’s kids, while we adults enjoyed conversing about religion and music, two topics that I basically cannot get enough of. As I told the husband, we seemed to share similar “intellectual values.” This allowed us to discuss things quite freely and openly. I found it very rewarding, and I think they did too. I know Melanie and I aren’t likely to be here in Tallahassee beyond next summer, but I’m hopeful that we can foster this newfound friendship in the meantime.

That’s all, folks!

Potpourri No. 32

I’m alive!

Suddenly Last Summer
Tomorrow I will give the final lecture of what is hopefully my last summer of teaching at Florida State. If all goes well, I’ll be living somewhere else this time next year. Or just about this time, anyway. Melanie and I recently renewed our apartment lease through June 2013. Not long ago, I was given official notice that I’ll be funded (at half of my current rate) to stick around school through the fall in the hopes that I can finish up by December. If I don’t, I’ll probably get the same half-rate deal for spring 2013. Probably. It’s not guaranteed, but I’m not too concerned about it. Worst case scenario, I can probably leave Tallahassee in January and finish my Ph.D. from afar. That kind of thing happens. It’s bizarre to be talking about this stuff and know both that it’s for real and that it’s so close to becoming a reality. I don’t know whether to shout for joy or just puke.

Motorin’
A while back, I wrote about Melanie and me keeping (and reviving) our Toyota Corolla, making us officially a two-car family. This has turned out to be a tremendously good decision on our part. With me heading to campus fairly early every weekday for the last six weeks, it’s been incredibly convenient to have my own mode of transportation. The bus wouldn’t work too well that early in the morning (or at any other time, but some hours are worse than others) and it would be a disaster if Melanie and I had to get three kids out of the house every morning so she could drive me to school. I predicted that this is how I’d feel about having two vehicles, but in hindsight I’m even more grateful for our decision to keep the second car. It’s been blissful.

Fresh from the Garten
Edison graduated kindergarten a couple of weeks ago. Man, am I proud of him. And of Melanie, who of course took on a whole slew of responsibility in order to help Edison succeed. Truthfully, I’m also incredibly proud of Peter. He’s been quite the student himself, albeit unofficially so. Barely four years old, he can read a fair amount, sounds out words all the time, and has surprisingly good penmanship. What a bunch of smartypants my kids are! I love it!

Just Passin’ Through
My blog is fairly dead nowadays. It has been for a long time. I post on my blog much more often than people actually read my blog, and that’s pathetic because I don’t post very often at all. However, there is one post I wrote way back in April 2010 that continues to attract visitors. It’s a post about whether or not God created water, and it seems that due to its theological subject matter, people continually happen upon it via Google and whatnot. I still get comments on it on a somewhat regular basis. It has 14 comments now, which admittedly isn’t a ton, but it makes it one of my most commented-on posts of all time (with “all time” being almost eight years now.)

To Be Continued…
There are many more things I’ve wanted to blog about lately, but I just haven’t had the time. I promise I’ll try to post a bit more frequently now that the summer semester is wrapping up. Technically, I’ve got enough to be doing that I shouldn’t have any extra time to post to my blog. But I’ll try to squeeze in several posts, even if they’re small, over the next few weeks.

Everything Old is New Again

Melanie and I are now officially a two-car family. Want to see a picture of our newest automobile? Here it is:

Sorry, what’s that? The car looks familiar? A little too familiar, even? Well, yes, it does. As it should. It’s the black ’99 Toyota Corolla we drove prior to buying a minivan approximately 18 months ago. Yes, it’s the exact same vehicle, with the same VIN and everything. You see, we never got rid of the Corolla. We planned on selling it. But, as you may recall, life got incredibly hectic about the same time we purchased the minivan as a replacement for the beloved car. Emergency surgeries, etc. When we transferred the tag from the Corolla to our newly acquired van, we purchased a temporary tag for the former. That gave us a 30-day window in which to sell the car. It didn’t happen, and with everything else going on, it became all too easy to stop thinking about it. And so, the Corolla sat. And sat. And sat. And sat.

Four weeks ago, we bought another temporary tag for the Corolla, thinking it about time to sell the thing. We actually had a couple of prospective buyers, but nothing panned out. As time went on, we started toying with the idea of keeping the car. We’ve never been a two-car family, and although that has set us apart from most other families of a similar size and socioeconomic status, having two cars has always seemed largely pointless to us.

Well, we’ve changed our mind. This morning, we drove to the tax collector’s office and registered the Corolla with a new permanent tag. Here are some of the reasons why:

First, the Corolla is actually a much, much better car than the van. Anyone who’s been a regular reader of my blog knows that the van has been a continual source of frustration for us. Not only is the Corolla simply a better quality vehicle, it is one year newer and a whole 30,000 miles younger. It is unlikely that the Corolla will poop out on us as soon as the van will.

Second, the Corolla is much cheaper to run. Even if we use the van frequently, I figure we’ll save a decent amount on gas simply by utilizing the much more fuel-efficient Corolla whenever and wherever possible.

Third, it will be greatly psychologically comforting to have the Corolla readily available to us should the van ever fail us or need one of its oft-demanded repairs. I understand that public transit could come in handy in situations like these, but who are we kidding? Another car of your own is much preferable to choreographing your life around public transit—especially since last summer when the bus system in Tallahassee became much less efficient for someone like me due to a restructuring of routes.

Fourth, having two vehicles makes it much easier to sell one, which means that reclaiming the Corolla poses little to no risk to us. If we decide to turn around and sell it 30 days from now, we’ll be out eleven months’ worth of car registration costs. But that’s really not a big deal to us, especially since we’ve learned that the Corolla is worth several hundred dollars more than we had supposed when we first planned to sell it. Additionally, we won’t have to worry about lining up a replacement vehicle before we can sell off one of our cars. We can simply go back to being a one-car family, and we can stay that way for as long we like.

Fifth and finally, we secretly hope to sell the van rather than the Corolla. The three car seats we currently use can all fit into the backseat of the Corolla, but only barely. We tried it, and the boys look so cramped and crowded that I’m sure Melanie and I would regret stuffing them all back there, for our own sanity’s sake if not for the boys’. The tight fit also makes the buckling of seatbelts incredibly difficult, and the boys wouldn’t likely be able to do it on their own. I could barely manage to get them buckled in myself. That’s something Melanie and I would tire of right quick. Thus, we don’t feel prepared to abandon the van just yet. But someday, we will. The larger the children get, the smaller the car seats they require, so it may be that upgrading even one child will make the Corolla much more feasible as a family car. We’ll definitely reevaluate things when that time comes.

One perk that donned on me only after we’d committed to keeping the Corolla is that it will come in incredibly handy this summer, when I teach five days a week at a fairly early time. With the Tallahassee bus system as it currently is, relying on public transit would make it rather difficult for me to get to school in time to teach my morning classes. But asking Melanie, and thus Eddie, Peter, and Creegan, to drive me to school every morning would be not only grossly unfair to them, but undoubtedly highly stressful for me. One thing I don’t handle very well is feeling rushed. Having to get the whole family out the door every morning is not going to help matters. For the good of the entire family, it is better that I drive myself. If we only had the van, this would leave Melanie stranded at home every morning, incapable of participating in playgroups or planning her own morning-time activities. Having both the Corolla and the minivan absolves us of such a predicament.

And that’s how and why we’ve ended up with a second vehicle. It’s a new second vehicle, but an old first vehicle. So, perhaps that just means that the minivan is now officially our first second vehicle, while the Corolla has become our first vehicle for the second time. But would the Corolla have been a first vehicle back when it was our only vehicle? Hmm, maybe not. So, maybe we’ve just now ended up with both our first second vehicle and our first first vehicle, assuming two vehicles are required in order to have a first vehicle at all. I’m not sure which option makes the most sense. I’ll have to think about it for a second first.

The Newest Member of the Family

Well, it’s happened. A new bundle of joy has arrived and we’re all very thrilled. Eddie and Peter are especially excited and can’t stop talking about the new arrival. Melanie and I are very excited too, though understandably a bit nervous and overwhelmed. This is a very big deal, and you always wonder if something will go wrong right away and turn your giddiness into distress and grief. We’ve got our fingers crossed, of course. We’re sincerely hoping this will be our favorite one yet. Looks-wise, there is a bit left to be desired, but if that were something we were going to be picky about, we could have just left the thing in the parking lot and went home, am I right?

So, anyway, here are a couple of pictures:



I was going to make a joke based on that second photo and say that we had bought Edison his first car. That would have been funny, but I decided to play it straight and do a serious post instead.

So, if you’re wondering, this is a 1998 Dodge Grand Caravan. We heard from a few different people, including a car mechanic that we know outside of his work as a mechanic, and they all recommended Caravans when it came to owning a van. With Creegan on his way (probably within three or four weeks!), we simply didn’t have room for three car seats in our car. Buying the Caravan has wiped out a decent chunk of my student loan money for the year, but it needed to be done. If we get three or four years out of it, I think we’ll be pretty happy. It wasn’t that expensive, all things considered. Probably our cheapest vehicle ever. The first photo above is the good side. The other side has a noticeable dent, but nothing that gets in the way of anything other than looking stylish.

So there you go. Cool, eh?

I Finally Have Gas!

Last Friday afternoon while I was driving, I noticed a whole bunch of cars all turning into the same gas station. I noticed that the gas station’s sign was not displaying a price for any gasoline other than diesel. I found it odd that so many cars were going to the gas station at once, and because I couldn’t think of anything else to explain it, I thought to myself, “You idiots, just because the gas station isn’t displaying a price for gasoline doesn’t mean it’s free!”

As I would find out a couple of hours later, the real reason so many cars were pulling into the gas station was that the fear of a gas shortage had set in. Apparently Florida gets some of its gasoline from Texas, and because Hurricane Ike was scheduled to hit into Texas at any moment, there was concern that we, as Tallahasseeans (?), would be without gasoline for who knows how long. And there you have it – self-perpetuated disaster. The price of gasoline shot up to as high as $5.45 per gallon for regular unleaded, and the cars lining up to buy the stuff stretched halfway down the block. I assure you, you have never seen so many cars crammed into a gas station parking lot in your life.

From what I’ve read, we (that is, Floridians) needn’t be so worried about gasoline. We get some of it from Alabama, and we supposedly have a decent amount of it stored away for safe keeping. But that hasn’t prevented Tallahassee from freaking out, and because of this fact, it has become quite difficult to buy gasoline here in the state’s capital. For the past week, almost every gas station has been bone dry. No prices are being flashed on the gas station marquees, and plastic bags cover the gas nozzles to signal drivers that there is no petroleum on site.

It has only been over the last few days that some stations have once again had gasoline. The problem is, this merely instigates a surge of gasoline consumerism that quickly leaves the station’s fuel supply depleted. Within hours, there is nothing left, and again the plastic bags are returned to the nozzles telling hopeful customers not to bother. Because Melanie and I don’t drive all that much, I have never bothered participating in this charade, figuring things would be back to normal by the time we were really desperate for gas. But last night, the low fuel indicator light in our Toyota Corolla finally sprang to life. Only hours before, I had seen overpriced gasoline available at a station very near our apartment, so as I made my way home from school after dark (Thursdays are my late days), I stopped at this same gas station hoping to buy at least a gallon or two. But they were out. I didn’t dare keep driving around, so I just went home and figured I’d try again in the morning, hoping that a new shipment of gasoline would have been delivered by then.

This morning, I hopped online and read some reports that at least a few gas stations near my home had gasoline available. I figured I better join the crowds and go fuel up before it was all gone. But by the time I was out there, which was shortly before 9 a.m., the locations I had read about were empty. Nothing left. Fortunately and finally, the fifth gas station I came to had gas, and at the not-too-shabby price of $3.56 a gallon. I had to wait in line about 15-20 minutes in order to fill up, but I’m just glad my fear that the station would run out of gas while I was waiting in line did not come to fruition. I’m also glad my car doesn’t hold much more than 10 gallons, since that was the maximum purchase allowed by this particular gas station.

Long story short: I have gas, and I am happy.

First Four Weeks

I’m into my fourth week of my doctoral program. So far, so good. And so busy. No surprise, I guess, but it sure didn’t take long to feel overloaded and behind on everything. I’m taking three classes, all of which are just one day per week, but two of them in particular require quite a bit of reading. Combine that with my GTA responsibilities and there isn’t much free time whatsoever. As a GTA, I am grading just over 60 multiple choice quizzes per week (not so bad) plus just over 60 one-page essays per week. Sure, these essays are short, but it takes a decent amount of time to go through that many. As long as I stay constantly busy, I am managing, but I’m not sure what will happen once I start having my own essays to write. I don’t know how those can possibly fit into the picture.

Commuting isn’t so bad here in Tallahassee. I was used to an hour (average) commute in Atlanta, so the 45 minutes it takes here doesn’t seem bad at all. I have a lot less distance to go than I did in Atlanta, but now I’m riding only buses instead of a bus and a train every day. Regardless, the buses seem nice enough. Most of them run hourly, which initially worried me. It would seem that, if you missed a connection, you could be in real trouble. Fortunately, Tallahassee is small enough that all of the bus transferring takes place at a downtown depot at the same time. You don’t need to worry about missing your connection because all of the buses wait until all of the other buses have arrived before they take off again. In fact, I was talking to a Tallahassee woman on my first day of riding the bus and asking about potential missed transfers. She said that if you miss a bus, someone who works at the bus depot might just drive you home in their own car. She said she knew a couple of people who had had that happen. Now is that a small town or what?

I have driven to campus a few times. Parking is notoriously bad at Florida State, but I’m not sure of a major university where that wouldn’t be the case. Fortunately for me, there is a newly opened parking garage very near to the philosophy department, and I’ve never had a problem parking there as long as I get to campus by 9 a.m. or so. I figure it’s just because people are still learning that it exists. I keep thinking one day I’ll show up and there won’t be any spots. This is not irrational to suppose, for the other student parking lots and garages that are fairly near to this one are always completely full by 9 a.m., and a swarm of cars is always circling about waiting for someone to leave. It probably doesn’t help the parking situation that FSU gives every student a free parking pass. Of course, if it weren’t for the free parking pass, I wouldn’t be trying to drive there, so I’m just part of the problem, right? Once in a while, anyway.

So that’s my update. And this is my abrupt ending.

Potpourri No. 14

It’s been five months since I’ve busted out the potpourri and it’s starting to get a bit stuffy in here. It’s time to clear the air!

Gas Pains
In moving from Salt Lake City to Atlanta, I was certain gas prices would be a bit steeper. This hasn’t been the case. In fact, it turns out SLC has some of the highest prices in the nation (as my friend recently discussed here). I’m Shell (and Sinclair, and Chevron, etc.) shocked, but obviously pleased that at least one aspect of ATL is going to be cheaper. In fact, I filled up my car for about $21 the other day, the least I’ve paid in who knows how long. How much did I pay per gallon? Just $2.11! Blimey!

Plenty of Time for Chinese Fire Drills
While on the theme of transportation, I initially reported that Atlanta traffic hadn’t bogged me down as much as I’d expected. When it comes to the Interstate, that is mostly true—it does tend to keep moving, even when horrendously slow. However, I’ve had plenty of experiences since that time that have made me feel livid, and almost all of them have been on the regular roads. There is one street in particular, about 2.5 miles from my apartment, where many a business resides. When I went for a haircut this week, I had to drive this road for just under two miles. Thanks to my receding hairline, my haircut took about five minutes. Getting to the haircut establishment took about 35-40 minutes. No, I’m not kidding. And when Melanie and I braved this road for the sake of buying the new Barenaked Ladies album, it took us even longer to go even less distance. I’m starting to doubt that I’ll feel heartbroken when I leave Atlanta two years from now.

Do You Hear What I Hear?
Speaking of the new Barenaked Ladies album, there have been some pleasant developments in the world of entertainment. In conjunction with their new music, BNL has added Atlanta to their list of tour stops. Melanie and I have been to four BNL concerts over their last three tours, so we’re incredibly hopeful that we can make it to their November 9th performance. We’re looking for babysitters, so please leave your pertinent info in a comment! Aside from music, Amazing Race debuted its tenth season a couple of weeks ago. Catch it Sunday nights on CBS. And did I mention that Melanie and I have cable TV? This is not something we had ever planned on acquiring, but I’ll write more about it later—it’s a story worthy of its own post.

Does This Baby Come with GPS?
Question of the week: why do babies want you to be standing when you hold them? How can they tell a difference? Edison has followed infantile tradition and, quite often, fusses unless you’re on your feet whilst you hold him. And I thought I’d read my schoolbooks while taking care of the little guy. Silly me.

My Better Half and Then Some
Melanie has done a much better job getting pictures of Edison on the web and reporting on his latest habits. I discreetly added her blog to my sidebar a few months ago, but I’m now giving it a wholehearted and boisterous endorsement. Check it out here! I guess it’s sad that I have to point my readers to another page in order to keep up on the most important facets of my life, but so be it…

Greetings from Atlanta!

At the risk of repeating myself, “Greetings from Atlanta!” This post will be nothing more than a postcard of sorts to let y’all know that Eddie, Melanie, and I are doing just fine. We’re settled in, we’re safe, we’re healthy, we’re happy. In order to get this message to you (and to do some other highly important things), I’m relying on my philosophy department computer lab (correction—philosophy graduate student computer lab … I’m in the big leagues now!). My home Internet service won’t be active until this weekend, at the very earliest. But once I’m all setup at home, I’ll post much more regularly. Honest.

In the meantime, here are some of my first observations of, as the hip people call it, ATL:

1. The water tastes fine here. Not that I heard it didn’t, but you know how different water can taste from state to state. Earlier this year I experienced the rancid taste of Arkansian water, and given its greater geographical proximity to Georgia, I was a bit worried that Atlanta water would taste just as nasty. But, I’m very pleased to say, our Georgian water has no noticeable taste to it at all—which is just the way I like it.

2. Georgians are quite friendly. At least when it comes to those persons working in the customer service industry. I’ve yet to chat it up with strangers, but when I’ve been dealing with people on a professional level (whether bankers or fast-food employees), I’ve found them to be extremely pleasant. Utah may have a reputation for churning out super-congenial personalities (think Osmonds), but Georgia has quickly charmed me.

3. Georgians love their chicken and waffles. I’ve never seen so many varieties of fast-food fried chicken. Church’s Chicken, Popeye’s Chicken, Mrs. Winner’s Chicken, as well as the more nationally recognized KFC (which, believe it or not, made its debut in my hometown of Salt Lake City). And there are others I can’t even remember. Almost equally as prevalent is the number of waffle houses. Foremost among these is, coincidentally enough, Waffle House, a restaurant chain whose myriad locations outnumber Georgians at a ratio of about 3:1. Atlanta even features restaurants that specialize in both chicken and waffles. So, if you get a hankering for either (or, better yet, for both) these foods, just let me know and I’ll setup my guest room. Of course I won’t give you my address, but you’ll be in my thoughts nevertheless.

4. Atlanta is not nearly as intimidating a city as I had expected. Coming from Utah, I expected Atlanta to feel threatening on many levels. I expected to feel overwhelmed by the traffic, by the crime, and by the sheer magnitude of the city. So far I have not felt any of those things. While the downtown traffic (including the most central parts of the Interstates) is undeniably tedious, it somehow manages to keep itself moving. It slows down—way down—but I’ve never seen it altogether stopped. That’s something. And if you stick to the belt route, traffic is even more tolerable. Whenever I’ve needed to, I’ve been able to go from one side of the city to the other within 25-35 minutes. I wouldn’t have expected such. Downtown Atlanta also houses the city’s most seedy-looking areas, but I’ve yet to run into a neighborhood that fills my heart with anxiety, much less terror. Now, I realize I’ve come to these conclusions rather quickly, and I’ve yet to try anything adventurous enough to really prove myself wrong. Yet the fact remains that I feel much more at ease here than I would have expected. And I wager I’ll only feel more and more at home as time goes on.

So there you have it. Those are my most immediate and initial impressions. There’s plenty more I can write about, but don’t expect anything before next week. I promise I’ll write then. In the meantime, thanks for checking in…

My Car Won’t Give Me the Cold Shoulder, But it Can’t Stop a Semi-Nude Man From Finding a Job

Mixed feelings about this last week. Being done with school has been great, but I haven’t done half of the stuff I planned on doing. I didn’t write an Orange Theology post, even though I have a couple of ideas for one (keep watching, I swear it’s coming). I didn’t watch a single movie. I didn’t read nearly as much as I thought I would (books, blogs, or otherwise). And little chores and responsibilities keep getting in the way of feeling completely oblivious to discipline, which is what I’ve been craving. Melanie and my car has lost its A/C due to a leak which, according to one mechanic, is almost always a defunct compressor, the replacement of which would cost somewhere between $600 and $1,000. With plans to move to the Deep South, this is a highly frustrating twist of fate. No A/C just as we hope to move to the hottest region of America and live the life of a poor graduate student? Very funny, thanks.

Today I did begin my job hunt, and I think I’m already done. It only took twenty minutes of actual effort, and I was able to do it in my underwear, so that’s not too shabby. Actually, nothing’s guaranteed, but I think it’s as close to certain as it can get without being so. I’m going through the temporary employment agency for which I worked several years ago. They are constantly placing employees at American Express, where I worked for just over three years back at the turn of the century. My sister, who recently got hired on as a temp, informed me that they were looking to hire several more people. Because it’s been several years since I’ve worked for them, they will require me to come in and interview tomorrow, just like a new person (which only makes sense). But aside from that, it sounded like they were ready to hand me the job. If all goes according to plan, I’ll begin work next Monday. I’ll work from 6am – 2pm Monday through Friday during a four-week training period, and then I’ll have a day off during the week and have to work Saturdays from 8am – 430pm. Of course I’ll be quitting not long after that, but that’ll be our little secret.

Potentially good news: while writing this post, the car people called. They can’t find a leak after all. They’ve recharged the A/C and, as far as they can tell, it’s working pretty well. All for $33.57, knock on wood. It cost me over fifty bucks just to have Jiffy Lube tell me I have a leak in the first place. Apparently these guys disagree. Let’s just hope that’s the end of the story…

Hodophobia

I have recurring dreams about traveling. Initially, this may seem a very positive thing. After all, why not take a semi-literal cerebral vacation every night? In my dreams, I have gone to Seattle, New York, Colorado, and even overseas. Unfortunately, these dreams are almost always disturbing. As far as I can remember, they always involve getting stuck or not knowing where I’m going. They are anxiety-ridden and stressful.

The most common culprit is the freeway. It is common for me to dream that I get on the wrong interstate and have no idea where I’m going. I’m always terrified that I won’t have the chance to exit until I am far, far, far from where I want to be. Unlike my waking hours, I am incapable of realizing that, since I am typically starting out in a major city, there will probably be an exit every few blocks. I also fail to realize that, no matter when I exit, chances are an on-ramp will be readily available to take me back in the direction from which I came. But these are dreams—nightmares—and such logic is denied me.

It doesn’t take much to read into these dreams. Do they represent an inherent fear of change? Of venturing into uncharted territories? Of ending up somewhere I don’t really want to be, but being stuck with it? This sounds reasonable enough, even though I don’t immediately identify with such worries. I suppose most people deal with these fears to some degree. As to why I’m plagued with dreams of this sort on such a regular basis, I don’t know. I think my upcoming conference in Colorado is fueling a recent resurgence. One recent dream specifically involved the conference. I realized, once I was there, that I had forgotten to pack any clothes for my three-week trip (though, luckily, I was not naked or anything). I also missed half of my classes because I didn’t know where I was supposed to be going on the University of Colorado campus. It was a freeway-free dream, but the overarching elements were the same. I woke up hating the idea that I am going. But I’ll get over it.

Oh, the days of yore. Before I ever had a driver’s license, I would dream about driving and it was always exhilarating. Now it is a dismal experience. Sometimes growing up isn’t quite the experience we had hoped for…

Rights & Responsibilities

I hate to pass judgment, especially in light of the topic I wish to address—namely the lack of kindness that permeates the world—but bus drivers seem to be a rather unhappy bunch. Within a block and a half of my apartment, I have no less than five bus routes available to me for my daily collegiate commute. With the exception of one particularly chipper gentleman, every bus driver I have encountered strikes me as bitter and angry, some more than others as my experience today can attest. On my way home from school, the bus stopped for a young woman who, as it turned out, was unsure of which bus she should be taking. She asked the bus driver if he went down a particular street or even the street adjacent. His response was a grim and short, “no.” After a slight pause, the woman asked if he knew which routes would be of assistance to her. The driver seemed reluctant to divulge any information, but again answered shortly, “Five.” “Aren’t there a few that go down those streets?” she begged. “Eleven,” he said bluntly, and as he began to pull away, “Thirteen.” I myself knew of at least one other, and I assume he knew them as well.

Moments later we were making a left turn at a four-way stop. The intersection is a somewhat confusing one, with several crosswalks obscuring the clarity of where one is supposed to stop. Turning left, a car opposite us began to turn right, admittedly cutting us off. While this can be annoying, and I am sure it happens several times a day to a bus driver, it would not surprise me if it had been an honest mistake. Regardless, our driver felt it necessary to, I would think quite intentionally, almost run over the petite automobile, thereby teaching the driver a “lesson.”

To begin with, I can’t imagine spending everyday focused purely on the inanity of all those around me. I realize some jobs are much more conducive to this kind of attitude, but surely our own choices and determinations can help tremendously. Unfortunately, it all comes down to selfishness, the key destructive force in our society today (or so I believe). Watch two minutes of television and the pervasiveness of selfishness will be made evident. Commercial after commercial plays on the notion. A few years ago, Twix’s slogan was “Two for Me, None For You.” And wasn’t it McDonald’s’ new product, Chicken Selects, that prompted the slogan, “Hey, get your own!”? Even situational comedies often utilize selfishness or self-centeredness as a catalyst for laughter—someone trying to get away with something, someone putting someone else down, someone being annoyed at someone else’s idiocy and the fact of having to deal with it. Bumper stickers, t-shirts, etc. all relish in the notion of self-aggrandizement and/or the deprecation of those who fall outside our own standards or circle of life.

At the root of this problem is the notion of rights and responsibilities. Everyone is determined to make sure any available and self-applicable rights are met in full. The bus driver had the right of way when turning left, and he was determined that anyone infringing on this right would never forget it! On the flip side, he perhaps did not see it as his responsibility to answer the woman’s question about what bus would take her where. He doesn’t have to be an information booth, and he was determined that anyone trying to impose this responsibility on him would never forget it! Such is the way so many of us live our life. While it may not be obvious, I think it is a lack of charity in the world. We are not willing to give an inch. Are we eager to forgive and forget those that, even briefly, prohibit us from partaking of our rights in full force? Not a chance. Such people are jerks! Do we assume the best of them, that perhaps they really didn’t mean to get in the way? No. This would only elevate them from jerk to moron. “Think, you idiot!” we would still say. Likewise, should we ever do what is not absolutely required of us? Well, what in the world for? If you didn’t do something for me, why should I do something for you? In what sense would that—would you—be worth my time? I live my own life with my own feelings, so yours are inconsequential unless they bear on mine. If they don’t bear on mine, here’s a quarter, call someone who cares.

I didn’t plan on this discussion getting religious, but I had an epiphany several months ago that I'd like to share. Christ’s love for us was something I always found relatively intangible. Granted, we’re not supposed to think we can understand it fully, but I still knew I was supposed to be in awe of the sacrifice he gave for me and how much love that must require. Reflecting on my own selfish nature, it struck me. I do have a tendency, when driving, to want to “teach lessons” to those “jerks” and “morons” that surround me. If someone wants to pass me and I consider it pointless for him to do so (e.g., all he can do is end up in front of me and then go my speed anyway), I don’t want to let him pass. He doesn’t deserve it. He should know better. The reasons are always valid, and the reasons are always many. If someone is a jerk, you want them to know it. You want them to feel bad or regretful for what they’ve done. They should. It’s only proper. If they never realize it, they’ll never care, and, in a sense, they will have been a jerk for absolutely free. Everyone else suffers, while he reaps the benefits and never has to care about what he did. Well, guess what? Jesus loves us so much that, even though we’re all being complete jerks, he suffered so that we wouldn’t have to. As I write this, I know my typed words cannot do for you what this thought did for me, but it was the closest I’ve come to feeling overwhelmed by his love for me. While I want to condemn everyone for what they’ve done and make sure they don’t get away with anything, Jesus is begging us to come to him—to come to comfort and love—rather than have us know the pain we ourselves are creating. The pain we should and are justified to have to face. That same jerk we loathe for getting off scot-free, Jesus wants to experience his pain for him, simply so he won’t have to. Desiring that someone experience pain and suffering for what they have done—and I know this is something we all do—however minimal we may hope it, or to what degree, it stands in strict opposition to Christ’s purpose. It is quite literally anti-charity. And yet we can scarce imagine not desiring the pain and suffering of those who wrong us in some way. It is sad.

Matthew 25:40 says, “…Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” How else may we interpret this? Let's try these: Inasmuch as ye desire the suffering of one of the least of these my brethren, ye desire me to suffer. Inasmuch as ye revile at the sight of one of the least of these my brethren, ye revile at the sight of me. Inasmuch as your heart swells with hate and ill will toward one of the least of these my brethren, your heart swells with hate and ill will toward me.

But also remember this: “For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (Matt. 6:14-15).

Potpourri

• Wallace (my car) has more-than-less been sold. Thank you, adoptive parents!
  
• Melanie has strep throat. Yikes!
  
• I actually got an A- on my last Greek exam! Hooray!
  
• The new Domino's Pizza® product, the Doublemelt Pizza™, sucks. It tastes like a crappy version of those cheez-n-crackers snack packs. I actually like those, but it is not good for pizza. This really is that bad.
• My latest mental fixation is the subject of free will. Hmmm.... Feel free (ha ha ha) to discuss it here, if you'd like.
  

Thank you, and please come again soon.