I should've known by the outfits...

***

...but they failed to immediately tip me off. I must be losing it. It seems like I was a part of this unique culture not too long ago. Only those of us who lived it can truly know why the outfits and lack of social skills are truly necessary. I will reveal the truth now:

The outfits and overly hyper behavior would make us easily identifiable to each other when... Parents and children were captured and taken into custody for homeschooling. This detention could only happen if the children somehow were spotted playing in the outdoors before the 4 PM mark. (No matter that we never showed up to the local elementary school. No worries there. Just, whatever you do, don't get spotted in your yard before four!)

***

As Ang and I wandered about the grounds of Maranatha waiting for Bill as he dialogued (thank you Dave Livermore) with an admirer, we met up with Gloria. All around us were kids running about like they were hopped up on something. I asked Gloria if it was homeschool week. Ang answered for her by pointing to a family that was standing nearby. It was all I needed.

As we approached the snack shop it became very apparent that this was no ordinary night at Maranatha. There were groups of children in the lawn polishing up some moves for an upcoming performance. As we neared the building the lights went out and a spot went on and one of the little ones screamed, "The talent show is starting!"

While we waited in line for our ice cream, we took in the talent show. It seems things have changed since I was in the ranks of home school "look-what-I-can-do" crap-that-really-isn't-that-impressive-to anyone-but-your-parents. Back in the day we would have pulled out a choreographed 'dance' to the latest dc talk single or possibly a Petra classic. But these new home scoolers are really trying to pull on the parent's heartstrings to win their contests. The entries that were really in the running featured sign language to music. I think it came down to the costumes worn while performing - I'm pretty sure the purple sequin jumpsuit girl took the grand prize.

The jumpsuit was a risky move. Had the secret agents swept in and taken them all away she would have never been identifiable as one of the pack.

yard work today...

I had grand plans of gathering up the pine needles from the large tree in our back yard. After I had cleared the ground I was going to plant some grass seed in hopes that it would fill in the dead patches of lawn that were previously covered. Unfortunately, it is raining.



Bored?

Yep, so am I.

Late Chicago Update

...So most of you have probably read Ang's post on our chicago trip. We had a great time and always seem to enjoy the city and each other. Our hotel was beautiful, the city was perfect, IKEA was bigger than I thought it would be, but I think I miss the burrito the most.




The one bad part about living in Michigan is the lack of Chipotle.

Lack of motivation...

Coast Guard Festival fireworks are tonight...


In High School I would have been "So There." But all I can think about right now is going to bed early.

I think 'it' has happened. I've become an old man prematurely.

Most of you know that I'm an old soul. I like old leather shoes that require polish, buying furniture that will last, carrying a 'hanky.' I even have recently traveled back in time with my shaving habits. Gone is the shaving cream and introduced is the bar of Colgate and brush. (If you haven't tried this you must.)

Many of these habits I've brought into my life voluntarily, but other old soul practices and feelings have just always been with me:

"Stay away from the edge..."

"Have I told you that ___________(Insert name of dead relative) used to say..."

"We are just running to the store - why can't I wear this? Nobody cares what I look like."

"I'll take Nursing Homes for $500 Alex."

~~~~~~

I think I'll find the motivation to go... just after this little nap.

a midnight concert in my house

Greg and Dave are here at this very moment.



Angela and I are being treated to a concert - Dave on Piano and Greg on Cello. We wandered around Grand Haven, ate dinner at the Rosebud, and stopped by Starbucks on the way home. Now we find ourselves here, listening to this wonderful noise...

If you look close you can see how into this Greg is...

i posted

...because I was told I was going on blogger probation. You know, that place where people write you off because you haven't contributed anything to the cyber world in at least 5 days.

You gotta keep up with these things.

So now I ask you: How many days does it take before my readership is back to 5? Is anyone out there? This is not a ploy to get you to comment... just a genuine question.

Okay, maybe it is a ploy... Maybe there really isn't anyone else out there in addition to anti-onion katie, ang, and "thank heaven for Colorado Jason. " Jason may be the one person that reads this blog who doesn't feel some sort of obligation.

Well it has been a fun ride and now i must...

*end.*


-Not really... but it was pretty dramatic don't you think. Kind of like when the backburner went off the air, eh? (But even that didn't really go away. After all that drama in the end, we can still find a recent post. So, is that blog over? Or does it keep calling to the writer to return?)

4 hours...

...of straight math problems. I just returned from my finance class and I need to be engulfed by something that doesn't make any logical sense.

As much as I like order and fixed principles I can bank on, I deeply feel the need for something that is less certain. I would once like to ask if we could figure problems assuming that 3 = 8 or 9 = 21. I feel like that would be a way to make math artistic - or at least get it to put on a hemp necklace. Wouldn't this approach to math always insure that this art would remain in motion?

mixed nuts

home again...

After a relaxing vacation two weeks ago, I faced a week of busy preparation and then travel. I flew to Burlington, Vermont last Wednesday and then drove to Montreal for meetings Thursday afternoon and Friday morning. I was held up at the border for a while because I didn't have enough information with me explaining my work relationship with our corporate offices. Apparently, they thought I was trying to drive into Canada to work without a permit. Oh well - thirty minutes later and a fax from my company in the hands of the customs agent, I was on my way.

It is strange to me how immediate the feeling of being in a different country washes over a person. Well, at least this person. It is one thing to visit Canada in Sault Saint Marie, it is quite another to drive into Quebec. Everything is immediately in French. My mind starts working on overtime,

"Did I want to take that highway 'Nord' or 'Sud?'"

"Am I following all of the traffic laws here?"



Most of all there is an uneasy feeling of the unfamiliar. A feeling of being in an Eastern Bloc country in the Nineteen Sixties. This feeling mostly comes about because of the road signs that lack words of any kinds. There are just the symbols for 'arret' and 'rendement.' When you are approaching the U.S. border there is only I sign showing an officer at a table indicating that a checkpoint is approaching.

I like being home... I like being back with 'mon amour.' Her signs are easier to read, and are more comforting.

Translate the French

free

I'm listening to Jack Johnson right now and thinking about how much I love Summer. Ang is laying on the couch across from me conquering her next book for the Summer. Sometimes I am slightly jealous of her extended break during these months. I envy the freedom to be able to vacate employment during the prime months of the year. She seems so free...

Over the next week I will get a glimpse of this freedom. I have taken the rest of the week (after the 4th) off. You can be guaranteed I will enjoy being free.

when I am weak...

Last Sunday I was typing a paper when I was suddenly hit with the most remarkable pain in my left shoulder and back. My laptop typing had apparently thrown the worst possible kink into my back. The pain persisted into Monday and Tuesday... by Wednesday I was ready to just quit everything and sit (for the rest of my life) in the one position that didn't cause my pain. I couldn't even breath in without buckling over in pain. I think I might be a wuss. The events that followed confirmed that...

Ang knew the pain that I was feeling so she scheduled a massage for me. After the massage therapist had worked out the knots in my shoulder she left me to get my things together. When she came back into the room she brought with her some 'medical' advice/instructions for me.

"I noticed that your pecs are pretty weak and your back is overcompensating for them," she noted quite professionally.

Yeah... I didn't have much to say at that point.

"So I want you to do some push-ups..."

"Like 200 every day?" I ask.

"Like 10 wall push-ups," she added without cracking a smile. I think she was serious.

***

Those wall push-ups are tough. But I'm up to fifteen a day just three days in.

Chained remnants...

So I had the chance to go back to a place I spent much time in as a child - the church building of my youth. My cousin Jessica had her open house in the hall o' fellowship. The punch and pasta salad was flowing... and I briefly got bored. Upon catching the eye of my wife, we walked hand in hand towards "The Sanctuary." (Aside: I realize now, that to most people this term brings about imagery of futuristic human sacrifice.) When we entered the "Narthex" (Aside: I realize now, that no one really knows what the crap a "narthex" is...) I was shocked at what I saw. No, it wasn't the awful ceiling tiles that have been dropping white junk from the ceiling for years - I expected that. What shocked me was that all the doors to enter the worship center, the chapel, the temple, the place where we symbolically meet with God were chained and padlocked shut.

I know we meet with God wherever we are ever since the veil was torn... but this symbolic imagery of being locked from the presence of God made me kind of sad. I remember that as a child I would be so excited to enter those very doors. When I was first reading I attended this church; I can remember practicing on the brass letters that adorned each side of the middle door.

"Enter into his gates with thanksgiving in your heart... and into his courts with praise."

Those letters had been torn off... but if you looked hard enough, you could still read the words through the paint job that was meant to cover all remnants...

Strange, But True

Christ Rocks My Socks- Really.

Obsessed

Ryan
Originally uploaded by AngandRyan.

I have been lost in school, work, and every other mundane thing I have to do in life. My thoughts and time has been spent going from one thing to the next the past few weeks (or is it months? I've stopped counting). But alas, the Summer season is just blooming. Soon every last ounce of sun-filled time will be filled with something... just something else to be obsessed with.

Just when I think all of my friends have married, and that my bank account is safe... another Summer rolls along. I think we are even getting invited to third party weddings. You know, "A friend of a friend is getting married that you met once a few years ago..." Congrats! You're invited!

***Don't even get me started on high school graduations***

With all this time consuming activity that seems to clog my life, it is always helpful to to focus on the right obsession. (See June 2nd entry)

Forced Addition

This past week my wife has become some kind of 'outoffreakincontrol' blogger. She learned how to do all kinds of crazy things with her piece of the digital world. Apparently, she even learned how to create a link to other people's blogs. Unfortunately, my blog is linked on her page.

I know I shouldn't - but I suddenly feel this great sense of obligation to "keep up" with my blog. To write nonsense for my unseen audience. Maybe it is because of all the traffic I know that I will now get on my blog that I feel this sense to spout something. I would hate for all our family and friends to read Angela's blog with great interest and then click on my button. I can almost hear the "out-loud" comments that I would get.

"Well, her blog was nice."

"I guess we know who the intelligent one is."

"Nothing interesting here - he must be a business major."

I promise that I will make this blog so super-cool that all of you reading will link to Ang's blog from mine - not the other way around. I will learn to use pictures. I will discover hyperlinks. I may even change fonts. Who knows - maybe I'll post more than one entry in a single month!

hopeful...

for the second. i believe that is what I said. although, it has been a few months. but hope is like that, isn't it?

angela is standing over my shoulder right now, correcting my every word. i just told her she crushes my creativity... her emotional response only seemed to further damper my excitment for blog writing. i'll write later.

one

'first' things are supposed to be exciting. a first kiss, a first job, first base... so i feel a strange amount of pressure to perform on my first posting. the problem is that i am finding this nothing like a first kiss or a first job; thankfully, it is nothing like first base either.

i am hopeful for my second...