Kobayashi Maru

SO last week we started doing the “church-shopping” thing. Having moved down here, we realized that we need to find a church family again. It’s been well over a year now since our home church shut down and we took a “sabbatical” from what I would politely refer to as organized religion. It’s time to get back into the proverbial swing of things. So we began the church shop. It’s a very weird thing to go church shopping - like one can shop for a church. I am not completely sure what, exactly, we are looking for. I think we have the opinion that “we’ll know it when we see it.” Whatever the crap that means. I used to make fun of folks for that kind of stuff. (In fact, I still do actually)

In my mind, I see myself walking into a church and looking for a menu over the altar. Then a greeter walks up to us (in this version they wear a polyester suit - matching pants and pull over shirt with some kind of matching hat - most likely, in warm earthy tones). They welcome me to the church and begin to go over the items that they are featuring that Sunday.

Greeter - “Welcome to the First Community Church of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We are so pleased you’re here. We know that you have choices when it comes to corporate worship and we want to say thank you for choosing us. My name is Suzy and I’ll be your greeter today. If I may, I’d like to take a moment and educate you about the church. Exits are located throughout the church. We’ll be worshipping at about 30,000 feet today. As you can see from the holy signage above the stage, we have a lot of options from you to choose from - the children’s menu is one of our most robust options. If you watch closely, you will see that the options for the children rotate with a speed as close to the attention span of that age group as possible. We have arts and crafts, singing, a full playground, scripture memory, cookies and punch, video games featuring Jesus being victorious over Satan, as well as a large group of children from which your child can choose the people that will be her friends for many years to come. In fact, you have come at a very fortuitous time, because we have a pastor with children the same age as yours. So possibly, your child could grow up with pastor’s kids playing a major role in their development; or even having a pastor’s kid as a first (if not only) girlfriend / boyfriend. But there is more. Obviously, we have a plethora of options for adults as well. We tend to draw a particular demographic and personality style here at the church and should you meet those - not so much standards as generalities - I am sure you will find yourself meeting many many couples and families that believe exactly the same things you do in very similar ways ensuring that you have the opportunity to find, if not clone, friendships that will last as long as you attend here. In the mean time, please feel free to share your prayer requests with us when the offering comes by. You are not expected to tithe until you decide to make us your church home *thinks to self, “and we decide to accept you”*.  If you notice the board above, you’ll see that we have quite a few offerings for opportunity to serve. While you can mix and match on your own, please allow me to point out some of the more popular combos: 

1. Arts Combo - includes worship teams (both musicians and singers), drama, stage hand
2. Service Combo - stage hands, church set-up/take-down, sound booth and lighting team
3. Youth and Children - babysitting, art and craft leaders, song leaders, mentors, wednesday night leaders
4. Leadership - deacon, elder, lay leader, sunday school teacher, sounding board for emotionally needy people

Please know that while substitutions are allowed, we do somewhat frown on them as they constitute, what is in our mind, an unhealthy individualism that might not fit in here. *leans in a conspiratorially whispers, “you understand…”*

I am about to respond when right at this point the praise band begins playing the music that lets us know that it is time to enter the tabernacle of worship. The greeter disappears in a puff of smoke (or into a crowd of people..either way really).  Upon entering we are bombarded by sound, color and light all intensely studied and chosen to ensure that we feel a peace not experienced since leaving our mother’s womb. Each seat back has it’s own personal video screen and personal remote control. Thereby allowing one to view either the words of the music or a video specially designed to go with the song that was specifically chosen and ordered to achieve maximum emotional impact to ensure that you are “ushered into the throne room of God in a way that works best with your personal theology. Options for video include everything from dancers with tambourines and flags to bright sunscapes with clouds moving in the breeze, to images of children. (Also included are headphones incase the person next to you is making to much of a joyful noise unto the Lord. You can turn your personal volume up so that you are immersed in a full Quadraphonic Surround Sound experience - mimicking what is believed to be the full heaven-like vocal experience thereby encouraging folks that heaven really is where they want to be - where technology is cutting edge and the sound system really is out of this world.)

The pastor then comes out and provides us with a sermon that has just enough meat in it as to make you feel like you were fed, but not so much as to negatively impact the seekers in the crowd.  In fact, one of the option on the handset allows you to cross reference the socially acceptable illustrations used by the pastor with acutal Bible verses if you so choose - but that is not part of the basic experience.  In fact, the icon on the button is a shovel - one can only assume that it is a lightly veiled reference to “digging your own well”.  There is also a web surfing feature that allows for interactive bible searching (and comparison to allow you to check and see if the Bible says what the pastor says it says).

At the end of the sermon, there is transitional music that is intentionally inspiring as as to work seemlessly with the call to action that is the offering.  That is followed by a song appropriately celebratory in nature to show how thankful we are that people gave so selflessly. 

The sermon ends with a little homily and the screens on the seat backs transition to a logo and web address of the church and people begin sreaming out of the multiple exit points checking the text messages they were receiving in church to confirm the lunch plans they made during the offering.

At this point, I pull out a form that my wife created in Excel that allows us to properly check off all the things that make church “good” for us.  All the things that make me feel like I could call this a church home and properly be overwhelmed by the activities and expectations that will be heaped upon me by signing the form that confirms my membership for time and all eternity.  Should the church score in the 90th percentile or higher, then we can come back another time to do a more detailed analysis and see if I can pick the place apart a little more.  If the church makes it through 3 full visits without offending some internal flag that I may or may not even be aware of, then I will commit to becoming a “regular attender” with a view for potential membership, which will be fully dependant upon leadership of the church recognizing me and all the myriad of giftings that I bring to the table without pushing me in an inappropriate manner to engage those gifts for their benefit too quickly.  If I can keep my expectations high, while limiting theirs of me to a socially acceptable minimum, then this just might be the place that God has called me to connect.

NOW, while I meant that to be tongue in cheek and rife with sarcasim, I feel that I might have edged ever so slightly over the line into conviction and that is not a place that any of us aspire to be, so I will move on with the the point of my story…we went to a local church.

To be fair, the Muppet is only 4 as of last week, and so the last year of being outside the formal church has left her a little behind in the what to expect department with regards to “big church”.   Thus, when we visited a church (as opposed to shopping for one) last Sunday, and found that they had cancelled sunday school for the summer (but neglected to inform anyone through things like….THEIR FREAKING WEBSITE - I am not bitter…) the Muppet found herself sitting on mommy and daddy’s laps with nothing to do since we had not brought things like colors because they handn’t mentioned on their freaking website that we might want to consider such things.  They could have just posted a little note somewhere on the site that was not instusive…like on the very large and colorful section that trumpted their amazing children’s programs…again, I am not bitter.  Anyway, there we are enjoying a church service and possibly checking the place out for further visitation potential when they beging serving communion at the end of the worship set. 

Now, this was not a bad thing by any account, but it became fairly clear to me that the Muppet’s personal church history from the time when she was really able to discern and/or interact with what was going on around her did not include communion. (Previously, communion was alwas served after the children we released to sunday school.  To keep the repitition to a minimum, please refer to earlier comments about us being uninformed about the facts surrounding sunday school’s summer cancellation.)  So while the Muppet perches herself on Ferf’s lap, there suddeny appears a lady holding a try full of Ritz crackers.  At this point my extensive personal knowledge of liturgical, evangelical and charasmatic traditions regarding the eccumenical ordinance of communion kicked in and I began a deep and passionate self evaluation to determine if I was in the right place and frame of mind to partake in the sacrament of eucharist. 

At the same time, I was serruptitiously eyeing the Muppet to make sure that she didn’t take a handful of crackers or put the whole tray in her lap so she could eat them at her leisure.  I am not one for forcing the finer points of understanding on an almost 4 year old, but at the same time, I don’t want her causing a massive scene by crying that she didn’t get enough crackers…it’s the whole “no one can eat just one” thing except with crackers and in church.  So you could say I was in the moment “doubly minded”.  But the Muppet grabbed her one cracker and passed the tray along with no real problems.  She even said thank you to the lady who handed it to Ferf and “helped” pass it along to me.  In the interest of full disclosure, she did eat her cracker immediatey and then tell mommy that it was okay if she wet ahead and ate hers too if she wanted, but when Ferf softly told her that she would wait for a little bit, she took that in stride and seemed content.  That might have been partly due to the fact that the wine juice was being passed down the aisle at that point, but whatever, she was good.  And the wine juice portion of the service went the same as the cracker.  She downed hers like a fraternity pledge and encouraged mom to do likewise, but seemed content when Ferf deffered until everyone “did this in rememberance” all at one time. 

The Muppet seemed somewhat impressed by the mass consuption happening all at once, but did not make any loud or disruptive comments.  She even stacked all our little plastic cups together and put them in the little holder on the back of the chair.  (I wonder how much longer we will be doing communion in plastic cups…is there leetching of bad chemicals into the juice?  Will somebody eventually name God as a co-defendant in a lawsuit when they determine that some weird form of cancer might have been caused by leetching into communion juice through plastic cups?  And if so, should I be upset?  As a join heir with Christ isn’t that my inheritance that those greedy schmucks are really going after!?)  But I digress…so the communion time passes and the cups are put into their little cup holder place and there is a brief lull as the guest speaker is introduced - which really makes church shopping, not that we were doing that mind you, pointless in the summer.  How would I one know what a church is “really like” if you don’t hear the normal / regular guy preaching.  What if I someone really like this guy, but it turns out that he doesn’t really preach here.  He has a church in Alberta.  Where does that leave me them?  Anyway, as the guy is being introduced the Muppet turns to Ferf and says, “Mom, that was really sweet of that lady to bring us a little snack.  I appreciate that.” 

At this point Ferf is almost wetting herself in a silent full body laugh - from her waist down she is still as a statue, but her shoulders and head are in spasmotic convulsions because the Muppet is looking at me and totally unaware that she has uttered one of the more amusing statements ever.  I however, smile sweetly at the Muppet and with short and age appropriate but Biblically accurate explanations of everything from the last supper to transubstantiation going through my mind, cup her face and say, “It sure was sweetheart.”

Yep, I gotta find a church that has some serious leeway in childhood theology and how it is explained.  I realize that the Muppet isn’t on any seminary short lists at this point.  She does know God and prays to Him.  She knows that Jesus loves her.  She has that part all down.  But she explains it a little differently than a lot of folks.  Differently than I did at that age.

My nephew ColbyT for instance can wax eloquently about Jesus.  Over Christmas we were driving in a church van with Marvin to see some Christmas lights and such and Marvin invokes ColbyT with a question regarding Jesus (which was appropriate to the season for sure) and the little guy (3 years old) busts out with a well spoken explaination of Jesus being God’s son, dying on the cross and being in Heaven.  This is all perfectly correct and absolutely true.  At that point Ferf and I exchaned looks and giggled between ourselves hoping that no one tried that out on the Muppet, because we were fully aware of how she would have answered that inquiry.  “Jesus is a super hero who lives in my heart and comes out to save the day.”

We knew this because that is how she explains it to us on a pretty consistent basis.  And, honestly, I am pretty comfortable with that explaination as well.  Sure, it might get a snicker or two from the kids in sunday school, but tell me which part of that is incorrect…

Jesus is a superhero and they serve little snacks in big church.  I can’t wait to hear her explain the holy spirit and the Trinity.

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www.drhorrible.com

That’s right.  You heard it here first.  Thank me later, you know after you pay homage to Neil Patrick Harris and Josh Whedon.  THESE GUYS ARE FREAKING GENIUSES!!  GENIUSES I TELL YOU.

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Yeah, I know…I wish I could write that and even pretend to mean it about me.  But alas, that will probably not be my fate.  The Muppet however, she has a chance.  She might not be there yet, but she “writes” with a refreshing honesty and understanding that most of us could learn from.

We went to dinner with some friends the other night.  While we were there, the Muppet took some markers and drew pictures all over the paper napkins that were on the table.  Then she folded them up and told us that she had written a few books, so that later we could read her some stories - since we keep forgetting to put her books in the car.  (She simply cannot understand why I refuse to read to her while I am driving.  This girl is all about multi-tasking.  If you can do multiple things for her enjoyment, amusement, comfort or pleasure all at one time, then why on earth would you forgo that opportunity??)

So anyways, fast forward a few days later and we are again driving in the car. (I am starting to realize how much time we spend in the car.  And I am thinking about the current price of gas.  And I am becoming depressed and poor for the same reasons…  I think gas prices are outrageous - seriously.  I saw a billboard the other day that said, “It’s official.  Beer is cheaper than gas, so drink don’t drive.”  I kinda chuckled until I realized that it was right, at least in the economic portion of the logic, if not the action)  Anyways, we are back in the car, guzzling fossil fuel at an alarming rate and exponentially expanding our personal carbon footprint, when the Muppet sees me move the napkins  her books out of the way because they are in the way of me picking up my warm and delicious brew of coffee that Ferf had made in her new bodum with some wonderful beans from Bean Scene Coffee House in Kelowna, BC - possibly the greatest coffee in the known world.  I do not know whether or not God drinks coffee, but I am sure that if He does, He drinks Amelia’s from Bean Scene.  So when the Muppet sees her literary works being pushed aside, possibly with some contempt, she reacts as one would expect.  She demands that said literary works be given the respect they are so deserving of as works of literature, and that I read them to her - possibly as some form of penance for soiling her masterpiece by putting it under my cup o’ heaven. It is at this point that I once again try to explain to her that I cannot read and drive at the same time.  She again is less than impressed that I will not even try.  I cannot seem to be able to mention to her that she as drawn what can best be described as hearts and squiggly lines on a paper napkin with dry erase markers, and that as good as I am, I cannot “read” that.  I think it would break her heart…so I say, “Mommy’s not driving.  She could read it!!”

I suppose you can imagine the look that cut across the front of the car at me while simultaneously being overwhelmed by the squeal of delight from the back of the car.  It was like a relational flash-bang grenade.  Ferf provided the flash, and the Muppet donated the bang.  Luckily, I am a skilled driver and I was able to keep the car on the road.  While Ferf was somehow able to convince the Muppet that when an author publishes something, they are always the first one to do a reading of their own work.  Usually in bookstore/coffeeshop.  And since we had both “books” and coffee in the car, it was like a moving venue for her first public reading.  Believe it or not, the Muppet bought it.

So she takes the napkin book from Ferf and opens it up with the care of a curator opening an ancient tome and then, I kid you not, she clears her throat, and begins to read the book.  It goes exactly like this:

“God, you are the strongest guy in town.”

Seriously, that is her opening sentence.  It’s more like a statement than a scene setting introduction, but she is breaking with tradition and branching out on her own - that, my friend, is what ground-breaking writers do.  In 8 words she has done quite a bit.

1. she establishes that she communicates directly to God
2. she establishes that she understands God well enough that she can do some compare and contrast work on Him with confidence
3. she communicates that she feels close enough to God to use personal reference pronouns such as “guy”
4. she communicates her understanding that God is everywhere including “in town” meaning she sees Him as a local presence in her life and not some far away untouchable deity
5. she allows us to grasp the inherent strength of God by using a physical object of comparison, namely other “guys” in town whom He is stronger than
6. she boldly and immediately brings the religious/faith nature of her writing to bear on the reader, forcing them to accept that this is important to her as a writer
7. she establishes that this is a first person narrative as opposed to some unknown third party narrator who may or may not have an emotionally vested interest in the story itself
8. she begins by using statements as forces of fact.  There is no room for ambiguity or personal interpretations in her opinions

Not a bad start for a 3 year old.  Powerful, compelling, it draws the reader in.  I was literally twitterpating in anticipation of the second sentence.  My focus was more on the rear view mirror than on my driving.  I saw her sitting all strapped into her car seat (like an astronaut really.  A 5 point harness might be a little bit of overkill, but I would rather be safe than sorry.)  Her head was down, almost bowed as in prayer, her little hands holding her “book” open with both palms up to support it, her lips moving like she was sounding out the words in her head before she read aloud.  Then, she spoke the second sentence.  A compund sentence at that!  I was in awe of her skills!  The second sentence (and third technically if you count a compound sentence as 2, which you might…either way really is correct I suppose.  I mean I don’t really know if one is more correct than the other.  MS Word has a word count function, but not a sentence count function so I couldn’t even check there - not that Bill Gates is the fnal say on grammatical correctness, but we all do use his spell check program as the oracle of all things spelling don’t we??  YIKES!  I am rabbit-trailing…

So, the second sentence that she reads aloud as if to an audience of thousands, is:

“And You love me, and sometimes I love you.  The end.”  Alright, so “the end” was part of it, but I don’t think it counts as a sentence.  It’s more of an announcement really…anyways, back to the next, and evidently last, sentence she wrote.  I have to admit I was a bit startled by it.  It was in many ways one of the more honest statements about God that I have ever heard.  But then I wondered where she got it from.  I mean, I am never that honest about God, so she simply couldn’t have gotten it from me.  ERRR…what I mean is, that this is not language that we use around the homefront, so she must have picked it up from somewhere else.  I immediately looked at Ferf (not so much in an accusatory manner mind you, though I did notice that she had immediately looked at me in a manner that implied she wasn’t accusing me, but that she was open to the idea that it might have been me she got it from) and then I burst out laughing.  I couldn’t stop.  I thought it was one of the funniest things I had ever heard.  When I finally got myself under control, I asked the Muppet (in a round about way so as not to make her think she had done anything wrong) why she “wrote” that.  She told me she didn’t know, and then promptly re-read the story, this time substituting “and I love you too” as the final sentence.  No explanation of why the change, or even an admission that there had been a change.  Just God is the strongest guy in town, He loves me and I love Him.” Pure and simple.

I have to admit, that a part of me was very happy that she changed the story to fit with socially acceptable theology.  It is much more “right” that way.  But, there was/is a part of me that embraced the fact that a child can be more honest than we can.  Her first version rang as true for me.  Sure, I ought to love Him all the time, but when I am being real honest (you know, on a semi- anonymous blog in cyberspace) I can admit with some embarrassment, that I occasionally fall more into the Muppet’s branch of relationship.  He loves me and sometimes I love Him.  There, I said it.  There is more honesty in my 3 year old’s story telling than there is in mine.

Again, there is a part of me that wants to sit her down and have a talk about how we should always love God and how important that is.  Then there is a part of me that thinks: (a) she is 3 years old and understands about as much as a 3 year old can about Jesus - sure at that age kids can regurgitate information and Bible stories and that is a good thing, but true understanding comes over time and (b) I would rather my daughter have an truly honest relationship with Christ.  So we talked a bit that night about God and loving Him and she asked all the good questions about not being able to see him or touch him and how do you really love things you can’t see.  It was a great conversation.  I realize that it is my honor and responsibility to teach the Muppet all about God and Jesus,  and that I get to raise her up in a Christian home with all the requisite values and such.  But I also know that at some future point she will have to decide for herself about a relationship with God.  That her faith will have to be her faith and not just that of mine and Ferf’s.  That is when she will have to decide how she is really going to write that story’s ending.  Until then, I leave it as one of the most honest stories I have ever been read.

So, as is, it might not make the NY Times bestseller list.  In fact, as is, it might get boycotted by large denominations in the States (which of course, could put it on the NY Times bestseller list).  But I think she’s got the stuff to be one heck of a writer.

I can’t wait to read her stuff.  Her’s is going to be one heck of a story.  (of course, at this very moment, Ferf thinks we are going to hell because we are failures as parents, but I figure we ought to wait until the Muppet is at least 5 before making such sweeing judgements of ourselves.  If she hasn’t made a difference in the world by then, THEN we can start feeling guilty.)

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OK OK, not the catchiest of titles I know. I was going to go for something a little more creative and correlated to the original, like Men are from Mars and Women have no Penis, but thought that might be a little much in a title. Best to save that kind of thing for the first couple of sentences. The “grabber” at the top to really get people reading.

I am not really one who is all overboard on the differences between men and women. Mostly they are intuitively obvious even to the most causal observer. Even my daughter has figured it out. She came up to me the other day and said, “Daddy you pee out of your body differently. I like how you do it better.” And while I responded that boys and girls are different and each uniquely made by God etc, etc, etc. I was thinking inside, “note to self…make sure bathroom doors are closed before balancing internal fluid levels from now on.” Quickly followed by, “yep. I like how I do it better too.” complete with a sly smirk just for myself.

But I digress. So, meanwhile back at the ranch, I was talking about the inherent and obvious differences between genders. (while completely excluding anything remotely relating to “transgendered” as that is fully outside the scope of this post, this blog and my personal understanding…”not that there’s anything wrong with that.”) So mostly my life around the casa with Ferf and the Muppet, while being out numbered on the estrogen to testosterone levels, is fairly normal. I “understand” them as females and they “understand” me as a male…or so I thought.

Whilst packing for this move that I have spoken somewhat eloquently about in my humble opinion, Ferf was putting everything we owned (and maybe some stuff we don’t - apologies to the landlord if anything is missing) in boxes. When it came time to do our room, she began downloading everything in our closet into a box. I bet at this point you think I am making some kind of computer allusion here, but nay nay. I mean in the original sense of the word wherein one puts a box under the shelf in a closet and proceeds to push the contents of said shelf into said box making full use of gravity as a motivational engine of propulsion. This type of packing is often found when two of three criteria are met:

1. One is moving for like the 4th time in 4 years
2. One is fairly exhausted and overworked from the packing
3. One is packing their spouses stuff and not their own

In this case we were a perfect 3 for 3. Batting the proverbial 1.000 were we. Or was she as the case may be (this last segment brought to you by Barney and Mother Goose which was recently given to us by a dear friend working as an agent of Satan.

Anyway, Ferf packed this box and into it went, as every guy would fully understand, my small but exceptionally important collection of baseball caps. Now we are not talking about 1000s of caps. Not even 100s of caps. (though there was a time…pre-marital status *sigh*) No my friends and fellow passengers, we are talking about MAYBE 20 ball caps of exceptional quality and value. So, when we get to the new Casa de Frans - Lower Mainland edition, she begins to unpack this box back into the closet.

Now look, I know that at best my wife tolerates my small but priceless collection of the world’s greatest ball caps of all time. I get that. But thus far she has done so with aplomb. Her graciousness on this subject is to be admired. (why one would need to be gracious about such a collection of artifacts does elude me, but I give her credit for such graciousness anyway.) I simply took for granted that she understood the relative nature of ball caps. There are many different purposes for ball caps. I, for ease of reference, have distilled them down into 5, without assigning preference nor rank order of importance to them as that is a very personal thing that every man needs to look deep inside himself for. Also, this might come in as a handy reference for explanatory purposes with your spouse. Just tell them you found it on a reference site on the internet and everyone knows that everything you read on the internet is true, otherwise they would make you take it off. That was the original term of reference for the office of homeland security back in the 1940’s when it was established by dictate of the office of the Emperor of the original North American Conglomerate.

Anyway, enough of that technical jargon. Here’s the list in all of its glory:

The Official Inherent Purposes of Ball Caps List as of 2008

• Work Ball Caps

These are ball caps that one sees everywhere especially if you are from farming communities. They are, as the name states, work hats. You work in them. You sweat in them. Toil sweat. Chore sweat. Curse in Genesis type sweat. They are not meant to be pretty in any sense. Comfort, sun out of eyes and a sweatband. These are the basic purposes. But certain ball caps just fit right and are always the cap of choice for a work situation. Many folks prefer old school mesh caps for this such as:

but I am more of a fan of the full material type:

• Sport Ball Cap

These hats are ubiquitous during baseball season. These are what you wear when you are going to sweat, but fun sweat. Outside in the sun, just givin’ it your all for the purpose of winning. The major separating factor between a work and sport ball cap is that a sport ball cap must include all the things that a work ball cap does BUT it also must make you look good sweating. No one has ever been a better model of what I am talking about than Ken Griffey Jr.

I don’t care who you are…deep down when you step onto a playing field, and you put your sport ball cap on - in side you need to feel like you look like that. This is what a sport ball cap is for. That is why you keep a few of them…only for game days, and just because you think that the moment you put it on, you are The Kid.

’nuff said about that.

• Formal Ball Cap

Yes, I said formal and ball cap in the same sentence. It can and has been done.

Some ball caps are simply too nice to be worn out when one is going to sweat for sport or toil. These are ball caps that were not meant to have a sweat ring from years of salt build up. US Presidents wear these type of Ball Caps.

And every guy has some. We may not wear them often (or ever) but should the right situation arise that calls for formal dress and a formal ball cap - one simply must be ready with it. Ladies, think must have accessory.

• Collector’s Edition Ball Caps

These type hats are not meant to be worn as much as simply cherished. They are gifts. Worthy of honor. Somebody worked really really hard to win something noteworthy so this cap could be made and I (or someone like me) could buy or be given it, and in doing so feel like we were a part of that hard work and noteworthy win. Do not take that away from us by trying to toss the cap out with some poorly worded insulting thought like, “but you never wear it!” It was never meant to be worn. It simply was meant to be…and more importantly, to be mine.

• Significant Event Marker Ball Caps

This is a class of ball cap that is often mistaken for the collector’s edition, but there is a subtle difference. These mark an event that has some intrinsic emotional value to us. A graduation ball cap. A 9-11 we will never forget ball cap. A just married ball cap. There are others, but again, each of us would know what is significant to us personally.

So that is the basic run down on ball caps. Why, you might ask, would I spend such time and effort on this? Well, for that we go back to the beginning where I told you that I THOUGHT that Ferf understood me as a guy. She was unpacking the closet and the box I spoke of. As she pulled out my precious and completely irreplaceable collection of lids, she sighed and said, ” I have a proposition for you.” Now usually this is code for: “I am going to suggest that we do something that will completely piss you off, but I am going to couch it in very impressive language in an attempt to convince you that this is a very good idea, and in case that doesn’t work, there very well could be sexual favors involved if you acquiesce.”

Therefore, as you might imagine, I was hesitantly listening with tentative excitement, but ready for a debate. She says, “I am ready to go to Home Dept and get some hooks so we can display your ball caps on the wall of the closet.” I sat there in stunned silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop..the conditions that would apply…the legal small print…the part that I had to give up in order to get this somewhat unbelievable concession from her. And then it came. NOT AT ALL WHAT I WAS EXPECTING. She tilted her head to the side a bit and looked at me with some form of resignation and said, “I know this is important to you, but I just don’t get it. So I give up. As a woman, I simply do not understand relationship that is inherent between your baseball caps and your penis…and I don’t think I ever will.”

It was then that I realized that men and women really are different. Sure I could have her read this blog post and maybe she would learn a little something more, but at the end of the day, she’s right. I never put it in such anatomical terms before, but there is something to be said for her insight. I’m a guy and I’ve got the ball caps to prove it.

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Never let it be said that I have forgotten my ‘merican roots.  So in honor of my roots, I give you this inspirational video:

GOD BLESS AMERICA

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So I have moved from k-town to the lower mainland. The Fraiser Valley. The “coast”. They have so many freaking names for this area. One could make the argument for too much creativity in this. Except that there are 3 separate communities around here called Langley. Fort Langley, City of Langley and Township of Langley. THAT my friends and dear readers is just plain lazy. Lack of creativity is one thing. It’s late and you have been naming things all day - “apples, bananas, guavas, pears, ok, one left - it’s round, it’s orange…screw it, call it an orange.” But three communities that all touch each other and are all called the same thing. That is just lazy. Sure find a new continent and you can call things new - New York, New England, heck, I’ll even give you New Mexico - but Fort Langley, City of Langley and Township of Langley…do people even use the term “township” anymore!?

Anyway, a season has changed - and I don’t mean spring to summer. After 9 years of being in the Okanagan Valley (K-town is the only place I have ever lived in Canada) we are no longer there. That’s a huge thing. So many people I wanted to pack up into my truck and bring with me. I am trying to figure out ways to hire them all so they can move down here. I might actually be able to pull it off with a couple of them! Time will tell.

So, we packed everything we own (except for a couple of smaller things that simply would not fit in the 26 foot truck no matter how much we bent time and space - and they will come later) into a truck, put granny on the back in a rocking chair and moved to Beverly. Wait, that was a TV show. We neither struck oil, nor broke transportation laws to move. And no banker was waiting for us when we arived. Well, a mortgage officer was…that’s similar right? Yep, you picked up on the reference. We bought a house. Pictures of which can be seen on Flickr. Of course it looks a bit different now that we have actually moved in and personalized the place…and put it window blinds…and appliances…and pictures…and furniture…and dirty clothes. But we are now all in and ready for guests. So those of you who know and love us - come on down for a visit. For those who just know us, but not so much on the love part…you’re welcome to stop by for coffee. For those who know and/or love us, but us not so much you, well, you are welcome to drive by and honk. You know who you are. Separate yourselves out into the appropriate groupings. It will make it so much easier on us all.

I am also now gainfully employed in a new position. Yes, doing the same thing. Same career. Shoot, it’s the same title even. But a brand new position in the theoretical kama sutra of professions. I made an upwards move on the vocational chart in my mind. Now I separate people from their resources on a national scale. It’s a hoot lot of fun. Second day on the job and a 10 minute phone conversation turned into $40,000. I think I’ll go home for the day - that’s my one thing for the day! Wonder if I can keep that pace up. $40,000 every 2 days…well, it’s the weekend so we will just have to wait and see.

Back to talking about my new home - since really that is worth talking about. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT. It is everything I ever wanted in a home. Ok, maybe it could sit on half an acre of flat land…on a mountain…overlooking a huge lake that was emerald green in color because of all the minerals in it, that was over stocked with fish. Outside of that, it’s everything I wanted. But really, a guy has to have some upward mobility in his dreams when he’s only 37. So I gave myself that leeway. The only hitch in it is with the laundry facilities. They are upstairs. This is not the issue. Ferf loves that. No more carrying laundry downstairs (much less outside around the house and down into the basement). Nope, now she lugs the basket like 7 feet to the laundry area upstairs. There is a nice open area in front and the washer and dryer sit inside a closet. All very tidy and nice. Being as this was a new house, we even got an appliance package. This included a new washer and dryer set. Ferf picked out this great Bravo set:

The dryer has this cool steam function and the washer, while top loading has no agitator, so all the functionality of a front loader with more space inside. All in all a great pick if I do say so myself. Unfortunately, it was not until after they were delivered that we realized that the laundry closet was built with standard size appliances in mind. These beauties are exactly 2.4 inches larger than standard. SO even after I pulled off the baseboards in the hopes of creating more room, they did not fit. SO, while I was pondering deeply the possibility of cutting through drywall to the bare studs to squeeze 3/4 more space on each side or trying to “rebuild” this space (though I knew that was crazy) or whether or not they would take them back…Ferf was contemplating her own ideas. She made me promise that I would not tell this to my friends - so if you are a friend, please don’t read this…as a friend I know I can trust you not to. She comes out of the bedroom and looks at me with a sheepish smile and says to me…is there anyway we can make it fit?? I really like these…

Me being me, I am still racking my brains trying to figure out a way to do it. I was just about to say, “I am willing to listen to any idea. Nothing is outside the realm of discussion”, when she makes a suggestion that, well, totally took me of guard. Now to be fair, all of us approach problems and circumstances from our own unique perspective. That perspective usually stems from our own history, experience and expertise. That being the case, her suggestion, from her, makes perfect sense. In fact, I should really have expected it. She suggested that we use something to help the appliances fit better:

Yes, my wifey suggested that we just, well, “lube them up.” Indeed, you do wish you had my wife don’t you. I know. I know.

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YES, THIS IS OLD, BUT I JUST REALIZED THAT I HAD NOT POSTED IT…MY BAD.
It is official. Ferf and I have been married for 10 years as of April 4th. So why, you ask, am I just now writing about it on April 6th? Well, because we were celebrating of course. “For 2 days!?” you ask. And with the smallest of smirks I reply, “oh yeah…”

Enough about that though…seriously, 2 days is enough. It was a decade ago that Ferf and I tied the knot, and like 16 years ago that we went on our first date. Yes, it took me 6 years to convince her to marry me. Well, not 6 in a row. She did kick me to the curb a couple of times. In fact for a bit it was like that scene in the Holy Grail:

Listen, lad. I built this kingdom up from nothing. When I started here, all there was was swamp. Other kings said I was daft to build a castle on a swamp, but I built it all the same, just to show ‘em. It sank into the swamp. So, I built a second one. That sank into the swamp. So, I built a third one. That burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp, but the fourth one… stayed up! And that’s what you’re gonna get, lad: the strongest castle in these islands.

Except the castles are like my trying to woo Ferf, and the swamp is like…well, it’s a lot like her original opinions of me. But with a standard of consistency that would make anyone proud (or make them feel supremely sorry for me and slightly embarrassed on my behalf), I eventually wore her down won her heart. I am to this day a big believer in consistency. In fact, I will do whatever it takes to keep consistent what I think, say and do, and in fact will change anything necessary to ensure this is so. That’s just the kind of guy I am. And probably what impressed her most, or the fact that I could tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue. That might have scored some points too. I don’t really know cause I never actaully asked.

So we’ve been married 10 years and have a 3.5 year old baby girl (the Muppet). If my math and/or memory serves me well, you should be able to deduce that we waited a bit before we decided to have a baby, and mother nature took even longer before we convinced her to get on board with the idea. The Muppet was the final chapter in our original 5 year plan. But she ended up being like chapter 2 in the second five year plan. And her little brother/sister is evidently waiting until much later in the story when the character development has been fleshed out a little better. Hopefully in the first chapter of the 3 five year plan, but possibly later as a precursor to our 4th five plan. Cause seriously, any later than that and I am not sure that the story line will still be fresh enough to introduce new characters…

So, to summarize our first 10 years:

Year 1 (98-99)-

• move to Nepal
• move to Canada (only for a little bit)

Year 2 (99-00)-

• buy a house in Canada (short term investment really - nothing permanent)
• be really disappointed by the over-hype and colossal let down from Y2K
• start traveling all over southeast Asia and Africa

Year 3 (00-01)-

• Continue traveling all over southeast Asia and Africa

Year 4 (01-02)-

• September 11th, 2001
• Merf starts talking to us again and decides that I am possibly not the anti-Christ

Year 5 (02-03)-

• Decide that protocol dictated that we start a family and begin…well, “trying really hard”
• Merf moves to Canada and becomes our “first child”
• We learn new words and all kinds of things from Merf - our music collection grows exponentially as well
• Merf applies for work and meets someone that we refer to as the dolphin boy to this day…he’s “frrrriiiiiiieeeeeennnnnnddddlllly”
• Merf starts working for A&B sound and takes over the warehouse color coding EVERYTHING and putting the place in order
• We lose every stitch of money that we have ever had and lots that it will take us years to earn when the “business people” we were investing with steal everyone’s money
• We lose our house
• Choose not to declare bankruptcy

Year 6 (03-04)-

• Do some serious construction work building houses in K-town - oh yeah, I was doing hard labour (started occasionally spelling things with a “u” - not really sure why)
• one of them actually looked like a pen-stripped turd when the guy painted it - it DID NOT look like one when we finished building it!
• Finally get one past the goalie and get Ferf knocked up with what will become the Muppet
• Listen to Ferf talk about how tired she is and how a pregnant woman’s body does the same amount of work as a non-pregnant persons does when climbing Mount Everest

Year 7 (04-05)-

• The Muppet is born and God smiles at us
• Move into friends’ basement (not suite, just basement) and live in community for a year so we don’t have to live on the street
• Merf moves into friends house and starts thinking of moving back to the States
• Spend year o’ hell (sorry mom, there is no better word) being micro-managed by her highness the queen of the damned at worst job in my personal (and probably yours too) history
• Do the largest fundraising event for a local in the interior and meet lots of people that become the basis for all my networks
• Begin thinking about moving back to the States
• Interview with companies in the States
• Have the Muppet go in for one last universal health care covered doctor visit before we move back to the States
• Muppet is diagnosed with Severe Chronic Neutropenia
• We learn all kinds of new medical terms
• We learn that medical coverage for the Muppet in the US is basically impossible financially

Year 8 (05-06)-

• Begin working for the K-town Mission
• decide to try and have another offspring cause the Muppet is so damn (sorry Mom) darn much fun
• Ferf decides to become a Passion Coach

Year 9 (06-07)-

• Launch Kobayashi Maru (August)
• get up to 15,000 readers of the Maru (ok, so they aren’t necessarily consistent readers, but that many people had come at least once.)
• realize that hyperbole is the greatest thing in the entire known universe ever all time
• Keep working at the K-town Mission and loving it
• Keep trying to have another kid…can’t get one past the goalie
• Ferf does REALLY well at the Passion Coaching thing

Year 10 (07-08)-

• Keep trying the breeding thing
• Eventually try drugs (fertility not recreational)
• Launch 30k Club
• Have miscarriage
• Ferf tops $50,000 in product sales, is top 5 in all of Canada and goes to convention to receive her 1 carat diamond ring and walk across stage with about 20 other women (out of 15,000) for hitting such stratospheric sales marks
• apologize to MiMi for cursing on blog
• move to a new town
• buy a house
• start a new job

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