Hồ Chí Minh Heat

A little over a year ago, Red and I left China and moved to Vietnam. We have been in Hội An since August.

I've written several times about how much better life is here than Beijing. The cost of living is significantly lower. We have cleaner air, live on the coast, people are friendlier, food is fantastic, and (my favorite) it never gets cold.

The winters in Beijing are brutal and when you have to walk everywhere because you don't have a car you have to be very careful not to trip and scratch someone else's car with your nipples.

There is, however, a downside to living in a place where it never gets cold. The summers are on the extreme opposite of the spectrum.

It is so incredibly hot. All the time. Even the nighttime does not give much relief. Sitting in my living room at midnight watching Netflix requires several fans pointed right at me and I will still leave a sweat stain on the couch.

For ten months of the year, it is great to know that you can step outside 24 hours a day completely naked and be perfectly comfortable until the police show up. But in June and July, the sun will fry your dingus off before the police even get their first call.

The sun is the scariest part. It isn't just the heat. The sun is much stronger here. Being so close to the equator greatly increases not only the heat but exposure to the rays of the sun. Hội An, Vietnam is 1,570 miles further south than St. Louis, MO (close to where I grew up). I can feel the UV hit my bone marrow as soon as I step out of the shadows.

Plus, due to my arthritis, I am on a medication that makes me more susceptible to the sun. My doctor told me to avoid direct sunlight. And then I moved to the tropics. Yay, me.

To combat this, every morning I drink a liter of SPF 450-infused tea.

To avoid the heat and the sun in June and July (the worst months), we try to run any errands that need done (groceries, bills, etc) before 8 a.m. and spend the rest of the day at home. Under fans. Due to the architecture here, houses are not air-conditioned. A few individual rooms are, but the common areas are not. And can't be. The space is too open.  This means cooking a meal is quite a treat since we shed our clothes before we start. We just try not to sweat into the food.

We are now reaching the end of June, so we are about halfway through the hottest part of the year. One more month and the temperature will be under 100 again. Not by much, but those few degrees make a big difference.

Cave Dwellers

When I was a kid, our family vacations often consisted of going camping at Rend Lake in Southern Illinois. Rend Lake is the lake that was a few miles from our house, but to make it feel like we were on a major journey, our parents would always take us to camp on the other side.

Now, we did have some fun times, but I would yearn for the times when we would go further than the next county over. And get to sleep in an actual bed. And didn't have to catch our food if we wanted to eat. And use a real shower.

I don't blame my parents. A trip to the lake was a low-cost vacation and we didn't have a lot of money. Plus, the main purpose for a vacation is to get away from the stress of work. My dad worked hard in a coal mine and just wanted to get away now and then. Planning a big trip often just causes more stress and my father was of the belief that encouraging man's careless eagerness to live indoors just exaggerated that stress.

Despite the desire to stay close to home and eat burnt potatoes dug out of a campfire, sometimes we had to venture further out because my mother's family lived on the other side of Missouri. On one of our trips to visit them, we made an unscheduled stop to visit Onondaga Cave. I don't know how our parents felt about it, but that cave blew my brothers and I away. It was awesome. From that day on, anytime we were in the St. Louis area, we would beg to go back and see the cave.

On one of these trips, as we saw the interstate sign advertising that the cave was 87 MILES AHEAD, we started our usual pleading and my mother pointed out that there other caves beside that one. Now, that may have been true, but we had not seen those other caves and as stupid children (you may have noticed this about your own children), we wanted to see the one we knew we loved.

Despite how adorable we were, my mother denied our request and forced us to go to Meramac Caverns instead. Once we stopped crying about how horrible our mother was being to us, we looked around and noticed that this cave was even better than Onondaga. It was amazing. From then on, we became cave people.

Wait. Not "cave people" like we quit school and started living naked in the caverns while eating the few bats we could knock off the ceiling and using their guano to protect our skin from the sun when we stepped outside, but "cave people" like people who really enjoy caves.

Every time we were on a road trip, we kept our eyes open for cave systems and since Missouri has over 6,000 chartered caves, there were plenty to find. Our vacations started to center around cavern systems instead of the local lake. One of our vacations even took us to Arkansas because of a large system of caverns we were eager to explore.

On one of these trips, Dad heard about a cave we could explore ourselves and we drove out in the middle of BFE to find it. We went down miles of dirt roads and eventually parked in a field and started walking. It was a long walk, but we eventually found the mouth of the cave and ventured in. I was in junior high and my brothers are 3 and 5 years younger than me. This means that we are significantly younger and more nimble than our parents and were able to move through the cave more quickly and easily.  As the ceiling of the cave got lower and lower, my brothers and I pulled further ahead.

Before long, it required crawling on our hands and knees to progress further. Our parents checked our lights and told us we could go a few yards up to see if it opened up on the other side. If it did, they would follow us through. We edged forward as the ceiling lowered and lowered and soon had to pull ourselves along on our bellies. We yelled back that we were fine every time we heard our parents voices calling for us and continued forward.

As the ceiling started scraping our backs when we moved forward, we decided to move over into the small stream that was flowing beside us. The water was freezing, but the erosion of flowing water gave a few more inches of space to work with. Unfortunately, the ceiling was still getting lower as we progressed. We eventually had to flip over onto our backs and just keep our faces above the water as we pulled ourselves through. Imagine lying on your back in about a foot of water unable raise your head out of the water because there is a slab of stone about two inches above the surface. This is what we were pulling ourselves through. Of course, now that our ears were underwater, we could no longer hear the cries of our parents screaming for us to answer them.

We slowly pushed forward with no regard as to how we would back out of this if the ceiling got so low we couldn't breathe or what our plan would be if the water started to rise. Remember my earlier statement about children being stupid? We inched along and began to notice that we had a little more space than before. We were soon able to flip back over to our stomachs and move much faster. And then, we found the opening. It opened up into a HUGE room. Stalactites, stalagmites and limestone columns were everywhere. It was beautiful.

As much as we wanted to see everything, we could see that there were several paths out of that room and did not want to get lost, so we needed to head back to let our parents know that there was a room back here and they could come on through. We went back into the hole we just came out of.

Using the same method of lying on our backs to breathe, we inched our way back to our parents and surprisingly found them much sooner than we expected. When they were no longer able to hear us, they had done their best to follow us and prayed we didn't all get lost in there forever. They stopped in one of the little rooms we had found not knowing where we had gone after that. They didn't realize there was a path deeper in if you were willing to submerge yourself in water and pull yourself through on your back. Who was being stupid now?

I think that was the first time I ever got grounded on a subterranean level.

Coming Soon to a Town Near You

Since I work in a school, I have a few fantastic perks. The best one being that I have summers off. I don't get paid during this time, but having that time off is wonderful. I gives me the time to do things that a typical job would generally prevent me from having the opportunity to do. This past summer , I took advantage of one of those opportunities.

People don't usually believe me when I say this, but I have a son, Christian, who's a rock star. He isn't selling out huge stadiums or giving tours of his home on MTV's Cribs, but his band is seeing a lot of success. He travels all over the country doing what he loves and will soon be going out on a tour of Canada. He plays lead guitar in the band AS WE ARE. You can hear their music here.

I got this image from Google.
Did you know Google tracks you?
Creepy, huh?

While he was in Indianapolis helping me move, he invited me to accompany him on his next leg of the tour. Fifteen days playing venues in Iowa, North and South Dakota, Wyoming, and Montana. Despite being newlywed, my loving wife encouraged me to take this trip. I don't get to see Christian much and this was a wonderful opportunity to spend some quality time together.

So, a week later we left. There were the four guys in the band and me. They put me in charge of merchandise sales. For over two weeks, we slept in a van, ate peanut butter sandwiches, schmoozed our way into people's homes or hotel rooms to get showers, and lived on almost no sleep. It was rough, but I had a great time.  Plus, we hung out with a lot of bands that I am a big fan of. Here are the ones that I can remember meeting over the course of this tour.

Piercing the Darkness • Newsboys • Bread of Stone • We are Leo • Mark Schultz • Medic • For King and Country • Everfound • Plumb • The Crossing • Random Hero • Project 86 • Echo • Chris Day • Zachary Freedom • Michael James Band • Disciple • Willet • Lybecker • Unspoken • Leeland • 7eventh Time Down • Rhett Walker Band • The Afters • Bob Lenz • Offering • Steven Curtis Chapman • Chasynn Canaan • Written in Red • Unscene Patrol • Kindred • At the Wayside • Satellites & Sirens • We As Human • The Neverclaim • Climbing Blind • Tim Timmons • Love & the Outcome • Kerrie Roberts • Offering • A Life Set Apart • Manafest • Children 18:3 • Fight the Fade • As Clouds Break • Scott Stapp (of CREED) • Tru-Serva • Eternity Focus • BOTB • Dawna Johnson • Paul Williams • Bubba Dowling • DJ Chris VanDam • What Was Lost • Red Jumpsuit Apparatus • Nine Lashes • The Elim Arrival • Crimson River • Last Watch • Katie Danielle • Captives Set Free • Chris Sanchez • Inner Rain • Death and Desire • Break the Fall • Phinehas • The Protest • Thousand Foot Krutch

Ft Yates, ND
Standing Rock
Sioux Tribe Reservation

We lived a few days in a parked RV, slept some nights in a church basement, and stayed on an Indian reservation in North Dakota for a few days. I saw Mount Rushmore, got a tour of the seedy side of Rapid City, SD from a homeless man, talked my way into the projection room of a movie theater, and spent an afternoon learning to play bridge with a bunch of old ladies in Montana.

Every single day was an adventure due to two simple facts. First, I tend to seek out a good time wherever I go. Second, we had some pseudo-celebrity influence that I was more than willing to take advantage of. Several times each day, I would walk into some business explaining who we were, pass out a few CDs, drop some names of people we had just hung out with and then explain what I wanted to do. It was very rare that someone told us no.

Once the typical person learns that you are in a traveling band and can prove it (or even better, they have heard of you), they bend over backwards to accommodate you. Luckily, I wasn't looking to be deviant. Most of the time, I just wanted to get some interesting pictures. Our first photo op was in Osceola, Iowa. I talked a city employee into letting us into the city council chambers. She actually unlocked the doors and just walked away. I assume it's because everyone trusts musicians.

Next, we visited the Women's Auxiliary of the AMVETS in Osceola. They taught us how to quilt.

In Terry, Montana, we walked into the Historic Kempton Hotel and and asked to borrow a vacuum cleaner. They just handed one over without even asking what it was for.

Then, we went to visit the city pool. Paul had an idea of a shot he wanted to get. They weren't open yet, but they let us in anyway.

I know that this is probably not what most people think of when they hear the phrase "living the rock 'n roll life", but I know I enjoyed it.

"L" is for Lincoln

Some of the best years of my life were when I was in college in Lincoln, Illinois. I know many people claim college to be their best years, but mine were not stereotypical. It wasn't because of partying. I was just insanely happy and made some lifelong friends.

Three hours south of Chicago

Lincoln is right in the center of Illinois, about 30 miles north of the capital Springfield on I-55. There are a lot of places that claim to have a connection to Abraham Lincoln, but for this town, the claim is true. Lincoln, Illinois was named after Abraham Lincoln before he even became president. In fact, he was present the day they officially named the town and he christened the town by smashing a watermelon on the town square. 'Honest Abe' practiced law in the courthouse a few times a month when he rode up from Springfield.

The town of Lincoln is home to two colleges. Lincoln College is a private liberal arts college and Lincoln Christian University which is one of the first Restoration Movement colleges (it was Lincoln Bible Institute in the beginning).

This is the school where I got my Bachelor's Degree in Christian Ministry and am currently working on my Master's in TESOL. I love this school. I briefly went to another college in between degrees, but had been spoiled for Lincoln and came back.

During the beginning years of my undergraduate studies, I lived in married student housing with my family. Like most college students, we were flat broke and wondered every month how we were going to pay the rent. We soon learned how wonderful it was to be a part of a great group of friends who relied on each other.

In the summer time, the families from the surrounding apartment buildings would pull all the picnic tables together and bring what food they had. Fifteen to twenty families would share. We cooked out, ate well and enjoyed each other's company. It was wonderful. It became an unintentional, big, happy family. We laughed and cried together, took trips and classes together, studied together, prayed together, got to know each other's extended families and took care of each other's kids.

Today, over 10 years later, I am still in contact with most of those people. A few of them I talk to several times a week. As much as we struggled, I wouldn't trade that time for anything.

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Happily participating in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. For the entire month of April, 1,868 bloggers are working their way through the alphabet. One letter every day but Sundays for a total of 26 days.

Click here to visit the website and get more information to see if you might want to join in next year. It's a lot of fun, introduces you to hundreds of new blogs and gives your writing some fantastic exposure.

Pretty Blue Toenails

This post is a response to Finish the Sentence Friday...
at Can I Get Another Bottle of Whine with My Morning Quiet Time?

This weeks question:
One time when I was bored out of my mind…

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When I was in college, I was what the college labeled a 'non-traditional' student. I was not considered traditional because I was over 25 years old. I could also get that label from having children. The third way was to be married. I met all three of those criteria. I was a 30 year old married man with two kids.

While I have no regrets about going back to college, I will advise people that what I did is NOT the way to do it. Do what you have to do, but if you have the opportunity to plan it out, do college first. Turning in poop stained term papers from changing a diaper while doing your homework is always a possibility otherwise. Most professors will mark off for a paper that literally stinks.

I had always thought of myself as still a young person until I had this adventure. The kids (and I choose that term purposefully) I sat in class with did not relate to my life. I made a few friends, but we were at different places in maturity. Plus, in the summertime, they all left campus and went home. We had actually moved there and lived in married student housing. The campus was our home year round. Technically, we lived on campus despite it not being in the dorms and in the summertime the place was dead.

I enjoyed my years at school, but without classes to go to the summers left us with a lot of free time. I often found myself doing things I would never normally do, but I had time to kill. It was this extra time that lead to a moment that I am less than proud of.

Our third summer in college, my daughter was four years old and had just discovered make up and understood the concept of getting pretty and playing dress up. Of course, she hadn't started wearing make up yet, but sometimes her mother and her would play with lipstick, blush and mascara. Kirsten loved doing this.

One Saturday morning, Kirsten brought me some nail polish and wanted me to paint her toenails. I had done this a few times before and had actually gotten pretty good at it. I kept the colors inside the lines and everything. Once I got her toes looking all pretty, she asked if she could do mine.

Not my feet, but best picture I could find of color.

She didn't normally get to play with fingernail polish because of the huge potential for a mess, especially in the hands of a four year old, but I decided to let her have a little more fun. So, we stepped out onto the balcony and I let her do my toenails. It may not be the most manly thing to do, but I was bonding with my daughter…AND for a four year old, she did a marvelous job. We cleaned up the spots were she got a little off target and when it was finished, they looked pretty good. I now had sparkly blue toenails.

We sat outside and drank sweet tea while we let our nails dry. It was a beautiful day, we had just had a good time together and I didn't give what I had done a second thought…until my wife saw them. After she finished laughing, she gave me a hard time about it, but it was soon forgotten.

The next day, I was out in the playground with my kids. Soon, a few other fathers came to join us and it wasn't long until one of them looked down at my bare feet and commented on my pretty toes. He called out for everyone within earshot to come look at my feet.

Knowing that I had been discovered and also knowing that I was amongst friends, I proudly showed them off and withstood all the teasing, well aware that it was going to come for a long time after this. I decided right then that when I went back in the house, I needed to take the time to remove the polish. I didn't regret putting it on, but there was no reason to keep it.

When lunchtime came around, I gathered my kids and started back to my apartment. As I rounded the corner, I ran into the Dean of Students. He had come by to welcome a few new families who would be starting in the fall. We exchanged a few pleasantries and he suddenly stopped talking as he glanced down and noticed my toes sparkling in the sun. He just stared at them silently for a few seconds as I tried to curl my toes under my feet.

When he looked up again, he slowly finished what he was saying and excused himself. He didn't ask about the polish and I didn't offer any explanation. In fact, I don't think I said a word. I just stood there. Red-faced.

I removed the polish as soon as I got back to the apartment. The Dean has still never asked about the blue toes.

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One time when I was bored out of my mind…I polished my toenails.

Too Tired for More Tires

I have entered into a new phase of my life. Things have been going well for me. I am doing well in school. Thanks to this blog, I have met a fantastic woman. My future looks bright and I look forward to what the next years have to bring. However, choices have to be made in order to keep things on the current track. I have run out of money.

Over the course of the last year, I have sacrificed and put money back to be able to have this summer free and it was well worth it. I had my rent and a few other bills paid up over six months in advance. I had plenty of money in my savings account to carry me for more time than I needed to get through the summer without a job. I have traveled to both the West and East Coast over the summer. I sent my daughter to Puerto Rico for a week. I have been free to do volunteer work and spend time with family. It has been great. However, there was one expense I hadn't considered. When I set up my summer budget, I had not yet met Red.

I am not suggesting that she has drained my money. She hasn't. The things we do together require very little money. We like to visit state parks. We meet in a town halfway between us as explore the sites. We occasionally catch a movie. The unavoidable expense is the gas required to see each other.

Red lives almost exactly 200 miles from me and for a while we were seeing each other twice a week. Sometimes I drove to her. Other times, she drove to me. Often we meet somewhere in the middle. It has slowed a little lately. Not because we want it to, but because we are both feeling the money crunch.

Neither of us have had jobs for the last several months and with no money coming in, the money going out does not get replenished. Red has been looking for work since she got to Indiana and it looks like she is very close to landing something soon. My original plan was to just get through the summer since I have income during the school months, but I didn't quite make it.

In order to continue to see her and pay my bills for these last six weeks of the summer, I had to get a job. Since I only need something for a short period of time, I went to a temp agency. They immediately placed me in a local factory.

Here's something you need to know about me. I am best suited to an office work type of environment. I know computers and paperwork. I am good at it and have an eye for detail. I enjoy looking over data spreadsheets and expense reports. I love crunching numbers and trying to solve problems. What I do not love is physical labor. I am just not made for it.

I have always had this issue. I grew up in a family of hard workers. My dad is one of the hardest working people I know. He worked in coal mines when I was young. He has worn several hats since they closed down, but he was never afraid to get his hands dirty. He can build or fix anything and he does it well. My brother Kyle had those qualities as well. He is insanely gifted at many types of labor and works hard to provide for his family.

As a child, I spent great effort to get out of any type of physical exertion. I hated mowing the lawn, working on a car, cleaning pig stalls or anything else that might cause me to sweat. Even when I would try, the despair would set in very quickly. Once while bailing hay, I seriously considered throwing myself into the bailer to get out of the rest of the day's work.

Considering the importance my father put on a hard day's work, I often felt inadequate. It's not his fault. It's a great quality, but it's not me. I had a professor in college once joke that if he had lived and been thrown into a concentration work camp during the Holocaust, he would have died. He was only half joking. He proudly stated that he was a theologian. He studied and wrote papers for a living. He was exceptional at paperwork and management. A work camp would do him in. I could relate to that.

That brings us back to today. The size of this town does not offer many options with the temporary services. They send people to one of four different factories. I have done factory work in the past and can survive on an assembly line, although I feel my brain dying every time I walk in. Even if the work is easy, I quickly begin to hate life if my mind is not being challenged.

I may take the tires off my car
just so I will never have to see tires again.

The factory I was placed in needed 20 people to help fix an issue they were having. This factory makes tires and there are approximately 45,000 tires on the floor that need to be sorted. As the tires come down the line, they must be pulled off, identified and taken to their proper pallet. Each tire weighs anywhere from 31 to 127 pounds. Add to that the fact that it is over 120 degrees in the factory and I work 12 hours shifts and it shouldn't be hard to guess how I feel about my job.

An hour into the first day, I was seriously questioning if I would be able to see this through to the end. Every place where skin touches skin was chafed before my first break. My muscles ache and I can barely move when I get off work. I can't wear my contacts because of the amount of dirty sweat dripping into my eyes. My glasses are constantly fogged, so I can't wear them either. I am blind, hot, miserable and can't quit because they won't give me another assignment if I do. Despite the conditions, leaving communicates that you "don't really want to work."

Now that I have finished whining, there are some good outcomes to this as well.

1. This paycheck will allow me to continue to see Red for the rest of the summer. 
2. I can look my dad in the eye confidently knowing that I am doing man's work. 
3. After four days on the job, I have lost 38 pounds.
4. I now have a use for the baby powder that has been my bathroom for the last four years.

Four more weeks of this and I will be back in the world of being a student and tormenting small children. That's is what I'm made for and am good at. I can't wait for September.

Yankee Soldiers in Portsmouth

Writer's block sucks.

I am writing this post because I've not posted much this month. For the last two months I've averaged a post about every other day. This will only be my 5th post for this month, if you can count yesterday as an actual post.

It's not like I haven't had anything going on to write about. In fact, it's quite the opposite. I've been out of my house doing actual stuff more than usual. There is plenty to write about, but every time I sit down to do it, nothing comes out.

My theory is that now that summer is here I'm out doing more and have trouble concentrating when I sit down at my computer. I just came from some event and will be running out to another soon. My mind is on the things I've been doing or are about to do. The months when I was doing lots of writing were when I was in school and I was sitting at my computer all day anyway. Knowing I was doing nothing else for months may have been my motivation to write.

If this is true, then I may have trouble writing during the summer, but will build up enough things to write about that I should have plenty of material to carry me through the winter. I don't really know. It's just a theory.

To make some attempt at this post, I will try to cover some of the things I've been up to.

Adam and I have done a lot of shows. Summer is here and the DJ business is picking up. We've played for the local Chamber of Commerce, several bars and have done a lot of weddings. The weddings are my favorite. I have decided to start taking my camera to get pictures of what happens once the liquor has been flowing for a few hours. Videotaping two middle aged fat guys act out Michael Jackson's Beat It would give my blog traffic for months. At that same wedding, when we played LMFAO's Sexy and I Know It about a dozen pre-teens ran out on the dance floor and did a choreographed dance routine complete with the guy that has the box on his head. It was cute until it got to the wiggle wiggle part. Then, it was a little disturbing to watch. Most those kids were twelve. Who taught them to do that?

I have spent a significant amount of time with Red. Things are going very well with us, but it gets a little difficult sometimes trying to decide what to share with our readers and what to keep private. Last weekend, we attended a wedding in New Hampshire and had a very difficult time traveling there. For the full story of our adventure with United Airlines and our missed flight click here for my post at Studio 30 Plus.

They were practicing for something and did not like
my presence.  I hid in the trees to get more pictures.
They found me.

Despite the troubles getting there, the trip was great. I was chased off by some Civil War soldiers in Portsmouth who did not appreciate having their pictures taken. Maybe they didn't know what a camera was.

The 'general' actually said, "I order you off this property."

I reminded him that he wasn't a real general, so didn't have any real authority, but the look in his eyes when he started toward me made me stop questioning and leave. Well, I sort of left. Being proud of my Southern heritage (except for that unfortunate slave fiasco), I decided to keep snapping pictures. The general soon discovered me and exercised his supposed authority again.

Since the city was founded in 1623, they consider themselves to be rather historic. Due to all the threatened gun play, I decided to venture into a more modern part of the city. I wandered through many unique shops and found a LIFE IS GOOD merchandise store. I had never heard of this brand so I checked it out. It is mostly clothing and other accessories depicting cartoon likenesses of life's good things. Playing frisbee. Grandma's cooking. A comfortable bed. Falling in love. A beautiful song. You get the picture.

A few blocks later I found another store.

This store sold a very similar line of products,
only a little bit different.

That evening, I searched for crabs on the beach with one of the other bridesmaids, Red and I took a harbor cruise, we ate incredibly expensive meals for the next two days and met a lot of great people. I hated to have to fly back and bring the weekend to an end.

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Well, this post just took on a life of it's own once I started typing. I've heard the best cure for writer's block is to write and it seems to have worked in this case. I meant to write about the things that have been keeping me busy this summer, but it looks like this post ended up being mostly about the past weekend. I don't feel like going back to edit it, so it is going to stay as is. I have to get to another show with Adam tonight anyway.

On Tuesday, I am hopping a plane with my daughter to head to Portland, Oregon for my cousin's wedding. We are staying there for an entire week, so we will have plenty of time to see the city and hopefully get into a little bit of trouble. We will be meeting up with Jen of "Jen" e sais quoi to help us find the hot spots. Plus, she has promised my daughter some quality vintage clothes shopping, so expect me to be wandering off on my own while they do their girl stuff. I hate shopping.

I'm taking my laptop with me, so I will try to keep you posted  on what we are up to.

How Many Preschoolers Fit in a Box?

This morning I tackled a task that I have been dreading for the last few months. Due to summer activities and one of the regular workers asking to take the summer off, my church has been a little short-handed on preschool workers. Last April, when I was approached to help, I adamantly declined. I have no desire to work with small children even when I am getting paid for it. You can read here (Teacher Troubles) about the time I was stuck with 24 of them for an entire day. Despite my protests, they didn't back down and I reluctantly agreed to take one day. Today was that day.

I had forgotten about agreeing to do this until a book was set in front of me at last week's dinner. It contained the lesson plan for today. My daughter, who was to be my assistant, was told she would have to walk me through it. She has assisted with the children many times and apparently is pretty good at it. Neither of us picked up the book, each assuming that the other was going to get it. On Wednesday, when I asked Kirsten for the book, we realized what had happened. I looked all over the church and my home for that book and finally realized that I would be walking in blind with no lesson.

I have taught hundreds of times and most of the time write my own lessons, but it is generally for teenagers or adults. At those ages, the lesson are information based. With tiny little moron kids, you have to do activities to keep their minds occupied and prevent them from biting each other. Then, while you have them distracted, you try to sneak in a nugget of knowledge or two and call it a productive lesson time. I am not good at this type of teaching.

Clowns make people happy.

There were seven children, including two I had never seen before and would not speak. One of them was a boy content to dig through the bins of toys and keep himself occupied. He wouldn't acknowledge me in any way, but he seemed pretty low maintenance, so I didn't mind. The silent girl sat at the table and stared at me, but would not speak. I could almost detect her head moving when I asked her a question, but I couldn't be sure. I was just happy that no one appeared to be scared of me. The smaller children often seem to have a heightened sense of paranoia.

The kids were pretty well behaved and I spent most of my time throwing toys back in the bins so there would not be a huge clean up afterwards requiring me to take bids from contractors. My daughter was on bathroom duty and escorted them when they suddenly realized they had to go. I was grateful to have her there for that, but then she said, "Who's ready for a snack."

ME: (exasperated) Why would you say that?

KIRSTEN: Say what? 

ME: About the food?

KIRSTEN: It's time to eat.

ME: We are only in here for an hour and everyone is happy. What have you done?

KIRSTEN: Dad, we have to feed them.

ME: No, we don't. Once again, one hour.

KIRSTEN: I don't see what the problem is.

ME: You don't fix what isn't broke. This will only lead to disaster.

As we were having this debate the kids had made their way to the table and were already demanding what they wanted.

ME: See what you've done.

KIRSTEN: Just throw some food at them.

Kirsten pulls a box of graham crackers out of the closet. I objected on the grounds that we had to clean this room before we left.

ME: No. Too many crumbs.

Kirsten rolls her eyes, returns to the closet and comes back with prepackaged apple slices.

ME: No, too sticky.

Kirsten appeared frustrated. I don't know why, I was only trying to help. She doesn't always think these things through. She suggested we start with the drinks since the kids were starting to complain. She gave each kid a cup and asked me to grab the juice.

ME: Juice? That will get everywhere and once again, sticky.

Kirsten stepped around me to get the juice and knocked a box of raisins to the floor. One of the kids immediately started crying.

SHORT PERSON: (wailing) I don't like raisins.

Raisins OR bloated ticks

I picked up the box and yelled, "This box is full of bugs!" I then threw several of the raisins on the table and told the kids to kill the bugs. They just looked at me.

ME: (urgently) Kill the bugs before they crawl away and get in the other classes!

The little boy that hadn't spoke all through class ran up to the table and smacked his hand on one of the raisins and squished it.

ME: Good! Now, quick, eat the bug.

He popped it in his mouth and smiled. I threw more raisins on the table and the kids simultaneously went nuts trying to smash them all and cram them in their mouths before they crawled away. This included the kid who insisted he didn't like raisins.

We made it through snack time with no messes and never did serve the drinks, but the kids didn't notice and Kirsten did not object. We passed the rest of the time making animal noises and I scared one kid by removing my finger. She hid in the corner until I promised to put it back on and not do the trick again. I debated since she was very quiet in the corner, but the other kids had grown weary of that trick anyway.

Parents eventually started showing up to reclaim their children and due to our pre-planning, there was very little clean up. Once again, I have survived a room full of small children. However, I still have no desire to do it again.

Turf Wars with Bieber Fans

No need to comment
on my white legs.

As I mentioned on Monday, summer is here and I could not be more excited. One of the many activities I have planned for the summer is participating in our church softball league. I know that I have bemoaned my disdain for sports, but I really enjoy this. It not so much about any love for the game. It's a physical activity (which I need) that allows me to hang out with the guys. I haven't played for the last couple of years due to my job and being out of the area for a while, but couldn't wait to join this year. Our first game is next week.

The girl in the center was their power hitter.

We had our second practice on Monday night and I was the first to show up at the field. As I got closer, I began to notice that the people already on the field appeared to just be getting started. It looked like a 10 year old girls' softball team. There were also many parents and a few coaches present with more people showing up as I approached.

This field is behind a public park and can be used by anyone at any time, but I was under the impression that we had reserved the field for our use. Had the park double booked the field? I approached the coach to see what was going on.

She said they had practice on the field from 6 to 7:30. I commented that the park office must have double-booked the field and she quickly apologized. Apparently, they had practiced there the entire summer before and had never had a conflict despite never officially reserving the field. Not being the guy in charge of our team and not wanting to run off a bunch of little girls, I opted to wait for the rest of the team to show up so we could decide what to do.

My first thought

As the guys started to arrive, we spoke with the other coach and she challenged us to a game. She said it would give the girls a bit of a challenge before their first game, we could get our practice and maybe we could help the girls in learning how to field the ball.

We quickly decided that we didn't want our church to be known as the one that broke a child's face with a hard line drive and agreed to practice in the outfield. A similar situation happened a few years ago with an adult women's' team. It ended with our pastor breaking the wrist of their third baseman when she misjudged the ball he hit.

Occasionally, their ball would fly into our area, but we were more worried about our ball taking out one of them. There was one close call, but it all worked out without injury.

I don't know why he was so mad at me.
It was his daughter that couldn't catch a ball.

Realizing this could be a good post for my blog, I instructed Kirsten to get a picture of the girls practicing. She objected because she thought it would be creepy to go take pictures of kids. I explained that I wanted this shot and it would be much less creepy for her, a 16 year old girl, to get the shot than me, a 40 year old man.  She walked over to their area to get the shot, but never lost her nerve. So, I had to be the creepy old guy with the camera. I don't have the stealthy ninja photography skills of Misty at Misty's Laws, so I just raised my camera and took the pictures. I got the shots I wanted and was only cursed at by two sets of parents.

In the end, we all got to practice and they are now educated on how to properly reserve the field for their future practices. Everyone was happy and we didn't have to be shamed by getting beaten by a bunch of little girls. Or shamed because we were the mean old men that beat a bunch of little girls. I believe our forfeit to the outfield was the only winnable option.

I'm Free

Less than 2 hours ago, I finished my last assignment for the semester. I now have one more semester behind me. I am not taking any summer classes this year, so I AM FREE for the next couple of months.

Because this was my last week of class, I did not make any trips out of town to see Red. As enamored (my daughter's word of choice) as I may be, I did have work I needed to get done. However, now that I am done, first things first. I will be seeing Red tomorrow.

I have many plans for the summer. A year ago, I wrote a post about this same topic. Their are some major differences between last year's post and this one. Last year, I had just completed my last assignment for my entire Bachelor's degree. YAY! This year, I have completed my first year of my Master's.

Last year, I had no idea what I wanted to do once I found myself with all this free time. This year, I don't have that problem. I am looking forward to being able to read books that I want to read. I have lots of travel planned for the summer including time on both the East Coast and West Coast. I have someone that I want to go spend time with. I joined a softball team and I plan to print out my Bucket List from last August to mark off as many as possible before I get busy with school again in the fall.

Kirsten's last day of school is Thursday, so she is busy making her summer plans as well. In June, she is headed to Arecibo, Puerto Rico for a mission trip and will probably spend the rest of the summer working at a summer camp. She has gone there every year for the last three years (since she was 12) to work in the kitchen. It's hard work with 14 hour days, but she loves doing it.

I hope to bring the funny back tomorrow, but wanted to briefly celebrate my new and much anticipated freedom.

What big plans do all of you have for the summer?

Days of Summer

We are quickly approaching my favorite time of year. In three weeks, I will have completed my last class for the year and summer will be here. I have explained in a previous post how much I despise cold weather. The summer months can sometimes get hotter than I would prefer, but I will take the hot days over cold ones anytime.

The signs of warmer weather are everywhere. Some of the signs, I could do without. When I step outside, I hear the neighbor kids yell for me.

"HI, BRETT"

My response is always the same. I yell, "NO!"  For some reason they start giggling.

Then I check my mail and go back inside or hop in my car and drive off. I don't like small children and I have told them that on many occasions, but they keep insisting on talking to me.

A few times, I have come home to find that they are having a picnic in my front yard. Seriously, six kids on a blanket right in front of my door.

ME: "Why don't you guys do this in your own yard?"

UGLIEST KID: "Because you have the best tree on the street to sit under."

I have saved half the money I need to have the tree cut down.

The eyes are the best part.

Once, they knocked on my door and asked for food for their picnic. I gave them a can of sardines. Unfortunately, they ate them and came back asking for more. Nothing I try with these children seems to work. They keep coming back. They knock on my door at least twice a day.

Despite the annoyances of the kids on my street, I still love this time of year. The sun is out. My schedule is less hectic. There are more opportunities for travel. People have barbecues and fish fries. I love it.

Terry, an old friend I recently reconnected with, has invited me to go camping with his family this summer. He suggested the two of us spend time teaching his youngest son some survival skills. I laughed and told him that my best survival skill is pre-planning to make sure I am always within walking distance of a microwave to cook my dinner.

As much as I love the summertime and going outside to enjoy it, I have never been a fan of camping. When I was a kid, our family vacations usually involved loading up the truck to go sleep in a tent at a campground 20 miles from our house. It wasn't all misery. We did have some good times, but I would have much rather been in a hotel or traveling somewhere new.

Good times

The only times I ever chose to go camping was for a few years right after high school. The group of guys I hung out with would drive our vehicles to this spot a quarter mile back in the woods near a pond and have a campfire. Since this was actually just a way to get drunk away from the eyes of our parents, it really wasn't about the camping. We never even took tents. A few cases of beer, some lawn chairs and wood for the fire was all we needed. We slept in the truck beds or the lawn chairs, if we slept at all.

About a year ago, one of the guys suggested getting the old group back together to go out to the pond for a camping trip like old times. Twenty years ago, I would have jumped at the opportunity, but it doesn't sound like much fun today. I suggested we all just meet at Applebees.

Part of what those trips so much fun was that we were doing something we weren't supposed to be doing. Plus, the crazy things that happened while we were out there. One of our favorite activities was to pool our money to convince John to do something he didn't want to do. Once, for eight dollars, he waded across the pond. It was only about waist deep, but it was cold enough that it had a thin layer of ice on the surface. On another occasion for eleven dollars, he climbed to the top of a tree and shimmied out onto a branch until it broke, dropping him into the pond. He would do anything for a little money.

It didn't always involve money. His brother convinced him to climb a tree by telling him he didn't believe he could do it. This was a thin tree with a diameter less than a foot across at the base, but it was over 30 feet tall. John shot up the tree with very little effort. While he was bragging from the top about his climbing abilities, we chopped it down.

I really don't think those sort of things would happen if we went out there now. We would have to take out a loan to offer enough money to convince John to put his body in harm's way these days. We notice the mosquitoes and ticks much more now and one of the guys became a cop. It would be his duty to stop us from the really good stuff.

I doubt I will be doing much camping this summer, but there will be plenty of other things to do. I have a couple of trips planned. I am getting together with some college friends. I will be working a couple of weeks at a youth summer camp (high school, not little kids). There will also be the unexpected activities that pop up. Freedom from classes is just a few weeks away. I love this time of year.

School's Out For Summer! Now What?

I just returned from a walk across town to drop an envelope in the mail.  I took my time and looked in several shop windows.  I joked with the ladies at the bank and played with a stray dog.  I helped a woman load some plants into her car and then went by the store to get one of the Italian beef sandwiches on special today.  I walked back home, sat in my chair, and looked around the apartment for what to do next.

I have never been one who is hard to entertain, but today feels different.  I don’t know what to do.  I started school again in November and in January doubled up on the class load so I could graduate in May.  The work load has been pretty intense for the last few months, but yesterday I turned in the last assignment for my research class.

I felt a huge sense of relief to know that I had finished and immediately went to a friend’s house to hang out because I had the time to do so.  Today, when I woke up, I took a shower and sat down at my computer like I do every morning.  I checked my email and Facebook, read a little bit of news and then logged into my school account to start my work for the day.  Once the page was up, I noticed there were no tasks listed.  That’s when I remembered that I had finished the day before and there was nothing that needed done, so I was free.

I stood up smiling and contemplating my choices for the day.  I could do anything I wanted.  Today I was not tied to a book or my computer.  The possibilities were endless.  I could…WHAT!!!  Nothing came to mind.  For weeks I had been saying that I was ready to have the semester done with so I could be free for the summer, but I had never considered what exactly I would do.

I could always watch TV, but I didn’t feel like it.  Plus, that had been my escape when I took study breaks.  It was the same with my XBOX.  When I would take an hour off, I either watched television or played a video game while I ate.  I love to read.  I could read a book, but I have read 12,738 books in the last six months, I really didn’t feel like picking up another one for at least a week.

Almost everything in the apartment is already packed for the move.  I can’t pack anything else because we are still living here for two more weeks.  We have already taken most of our furniture to the new house.  The apartment is pretty empty.

It is a Thursday morning, so almost everyone is at work or school.  The few I know who are not at work are sleeping because they work midnights.  I live in an apartment complex, so there is no grass to mow or anything to fix.  I need to figure this out.  My new job in Mt. Vernon starts on May 31, but until then, my days are free.

Bunny Juggling WOULD pass the time.

When I was young, this was easy.  I would go to a friend’s house, start talking, and the hours would just fly.  We would hop in a car and the day could take us anywhere, but that is easy to do when you have no responsibilities.  I am not saying it is hard to entertain yourself as an adult.  I am someone who does not get bored easily.  I have never had trouble finding a way to use my time.  It may not have always been productive, but I enjoyed it.  So today is kind of new to me.

Maybe I should learn a new language or get to know my neighbors.  I could join a gym or try to catch that skunk that has been hanging around here.  I have been wanting to learn guitar.  I could cook an elaborate meal for when Kirsten gets home.  I may go jogging or just throw acorns at the squirrels in the park.

I still do not know what the rest of the day (or couple of weeks) holds for me, but I have succeeded in burning another hour writing this blog.