To obtain a California driver's license you are required to take a written exam. I'll be taking mine in a few days, so I picked up a copy of the Driver's Handbook today at the DMV and found these little gems:
"Allow older pedestrians more time to cross the street. They are more likely to die as a result of a crash than younger pedestrians."
If I were in my 70's this would bring me comfort. Or maybe not.
"It is a traffic offense to scare horses or stampede livestock."
Ah, this will definitely make me think twice when I'm out driving around...on the farm...here in the OC.
And my favorite:
"Don't honk at a blind person. The blind person has no idea who you are honking at and may be scared by the noise."
Perhaps I'm easily amused, but I'm looking forward to this test more than I am the next episode of "The Office."
--Michelle
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Reconciling LDS Contemporary Music
I am not a fan of LDS Contemporary Music. In fact, I've been quite unkind in my comments in recent years when speaking of the genre. Michael McLean has borne the brunt of my frustrations. Perhaps you can empathize.
I thought of this last night (my unkind comments of Michael) and felt quite guilty that I've made no effort to spare him or check my feelings in the least when speaking of his music. Surely if I knew him I would have been kinder, even if I still had little taste for his music (which I surely would have--maybe I wouldn't have told him though). I need to be better than that.
With that in mind, my problems with contemporary LDS music are three fold:
1. I don't think it's very good most of the time (though given my limited knowledge of music I really couldn't tell you why);
2. The sentiments and doctrines expressed in such songs grate on me because they almost invariably become cliche and are allowed only as much meaning as the beat or tempo allows. The music strikes as mere spiritual cheer leading: positive fluff with very little substance. This might be fine if I were looking for fluff, but I'm not. In an attempt to mix the worlds of the spiritual and the contemporary, I find the music to be neither spiritual nor contemporary. I liken them to Balance Bars (or most any nutritional/protein bar) trying to be both healthy and candy-like at the same time: the result is something almost inedible. Better to keep the two worlds separate in my mind.
3. And finally, my biggest problem with most LDS contemporary music is that focus shifts from the lyrics and doctrine to the music and singer. Whereas with hymns the music serves to complement and enhance the doctrine, with LDS contemporary music I find that the scant references to doctrine often mostly serve as vehicles for the performer to show off his/her talents. In short, the performer and performance become more important than the doctrine. With religious music, I dislike it when the message comes secondary to the manner in which it's presented.
All that said, I suppose I would prefer my children to spend their time listening to this kind of music than truly contemporary music that endorses practices contrary to the doctrines of the gospel. In fact, I'm sure of it. My only concern, though, would be that my children would never move beyond the cliche, and mistake it for the real thing.
So in the end, I can admit that, despite my reservations, this genre of music would be a good beginning for some--a safe beginning. But please let it only be a beginning.
I thought of this last night (my unkind comments of Michael) and felt quite guilty that I've made no effort to spare him or check my feelings in the least when speaking of his music. Surely if I knew him I would have been kinder, even if I still had little taste for his music (which I surely would have--maybe I wouldn't have told him though). I need to be better than that.
With that in mind, my problems with contemporary LDS music are three fold:
1. I don't think it's very good most of the time (though given my limited knowledge of music I really couldn't tell you why);
2. The sentiments and doctrines expressed in such songs grate on me because they almost invariably become cliche and are allowed only as much meaning as the beat or tempo allows. The music strikes as mere spiritual cheer leading: positive fluff with very little substance. This might be fine if I were looking for fluff, but I'm not. In an attempt to mix the worlds of the spiritual and the contemporary, I find the music to be neither spiritual nor contemporary. I liken them to Balance Bars (or most any nutritional/protein bar) trying to be both healthy and candy-like at the same time: the result is something almost inedible. Better to keep the two worlds separate in my mind.
3. And finally, my biggest problem with most LDS contemporary music is that focus shifts from the lyrics and doctrine to the music and singer. Whereas with hymns the music serves to complement and enhance the doctrine, with LDS contemporary music I find that the scant references to doctrine often mostly serve as vehicles for the performer to show off his/her talents. In short, the performer and performance become more important than the doctrine. With religious music, I dislike it when the message comes secondary to the manner in which it's presented.
All that said, I suppose I would prefer my children to spend their time listening to this kind of music than truly contemporary music that endorses practices contrary to the doctrines of the gospel. In fact, I'm sure of it. My only concern, though, would be that my children would never move beyond the cliche, and mistake it for the real thing.
So in the end, I can admit that, despite my reservations, this genre of music would be a good beginning for some--a safe beginning. But please let it only be a beginning.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Posting Drought
There's been some sickness in our house lately that's taken from my the time I normally spend posting to this blog. Not the kindness of sickness that warrants concern, but the lingering small stuff that keeps you down just enough so that you're getting out of bed later and throwing off the whole morning routine. It is gone by mid day but the damage is done. It's the kind you scarcely think of until the next morning, when it rears its head again for a few hours.
We seem to have a lot of that in our house.
Postings to Come: My Problems with Michael McClean; Why (and possibly how) I could take a Walrus if I had to; and My Top 10 Donut/Pastry Experiences of all time.
We seem to have a lot of that in our house.
Postings to Come: My Problems with Michael McClean; Why (and possibly how) I could take a Walrus if I had to; and My Top 10 Donut/Pastry Experiences of all time.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Comments...
I just realized this morning that the default on this blog was to only allow comments from registered users. I've turned that off, enabling comments from anyone.
So, on the off chance that there have been a few readers that wanted to comment but not register, you are now free to comment.
Now, time to enjoy a day of college football.
So, on the off chance that there have been a few readers that wanted to comment but not register, you are now free to comment.
Now, time to enjoy a day of college football.
Past My Prime
I am on my firm's city league basketball team. We play basketball every Wednesday night.
This past Wednesday we played our second game of the season. Here's what happened: the other guys were big. I was bigger (and a lot slower) than most. My teammates passed me the ball sometimes and I did what I could to put it in the basket. I got lots of rebounds, blocked a few shots, and generally did what I could to legally push people around and keep them from putting the ball in the basket. We won.
If you sensed any lack of enthusiasm in that last paragraph, please forgive me. For years now I've been struggling with the increasing feeling that I'm bored with basketball, and I'm not sure what to do about.
Basketball used to be what defined me. My last years in high school I gained some notoriety in my home town and surrounding communities as a basketball player. I even spent my freshman year of college on a Div. III basketball team, where I also gained some notoriety. It was cool to be a basketball player, to read my stat lines in the newspaper, and even to have people sometimes recognize me at the grocery store as a basketball player (I took my pleasures where I could find them).
Ah, but those days are long gone. I went on a mission after my freshman year of college. For some reason, my mission destroyed my knees such that they could no longer endure daily practices (or even daily pick up games) without swelling up. This is the reason I've always given for why I never made it to the tryouts for the BYU basketball team when I came back. (My attentions were also diverted, however, by the woman I would soon make my wife).
So since then, my basketball exploits have been limited to intramural leagues, and now city leagues. Somewhere in there I started realizing that the punishment my body takes each time I go out to play isn't quite worth the benefits or joys of the game.* In fact, after finishing a disappointing fourth in my last intramural season at Harvard, I vowed to my friends that I had retired from the game for good.
I was coaxed back into it, though, when I learned my firm was putting together a team in anticipation of my arrival. I thought, too, that that the city league would give me a chance to get to know the people at my firm and in the community. Now that I'm back playing again, however, I just keep longing for those days when I can again step away from the game. The beatings my body takes have continued, and my skills have diminished just enough that there's no longer much, if any, finesse to my game. As a result I'm relegated to what I call the grunt work of the game, finding success only as I'm able to be more physical than my opponent. I'd say it's a living, but it's not. I get no other benefits from it now other than the exercise and some moderate degree of notoriety with the firm. That'd probably be enough if my body didn't take such a toll.
So at this point in my life, is it wrong that I'm quite contented to get my exercise instead by putting 10 miles on my exercise bike every morning? with a tennis match? or walking 18 holes? Few seem able to understand why I'd want that, though, and people's disbelief at my reticence to play these days almost makes me question whether I have made some great error in my calculus.
Hopefully, though, this post has helped convince some of the otherwise incredulous.
* Because of my size, I have almost always e been subjected to punishment from other teams above and beyond what most players experience. For some reason, being bigger than everyone else translates to most people (including referees unfortunately) that I can be subjected to more punishment than everyone else, more cheap fouls, hacking, and hanging on, simply as a matter of course. I used to accept the bruises, scratches, and injuries almost as an honor or badge of courage, but now I just kind of hate it. All the more because it now takes often takes me three or four days to recover from one night of basketball.
This past Wednesday we played our second game of the season. Here's what happened: the other guys were big. I was bigger (and a lot slower) than most. My teammates passed me the ball sometimes and I did what I could to put it in the basket. I got lots of rebounds, blocked a few shots, and generally did what I could to legally push people around and keep them from putting the ball in the basket. We won.
If you sensed any lack of enthusiasm in that last paragraph, please forgive me. For years now I've been struggling with the increasing feeling that I'm bored with basketball, and I'm not sure what to do about.
Basketball used to be what defined me. My last years in high school I gained some notoriety in my home town and surrounding communities as a basketball player. I even spent my freshman year of college on a Div. III basketball team, where I also gained some notoriety. It was cool to be a basketball player, to read my stat lines in the newspaper, and even to have people sometimes recognize me at the grocery store as a basketball player (I took my pleasures where I could find them).
Ah, but those days are long gone. I went on a mission after my freshman year of college. For some reason, my mission destroyed my knees such that they could no longer endure daily practices (or even daily pick up games) without swelling up. This is the reason I've always given for why I never made it to the tryouts for the BYU basketball team when I came back. (My attentions were also diverted, however, by the woman I would soon make my wife).
So since then, my basketball exploits have been limited to intramural leagues, and now city leagues. Somewhere in there I started realizing that the punishment my body takes each time I go out to play isn't quite worth the benefits or joys of the game.* In fact, after finishing a disappointing fourth in my last intramural season at Harvard, I vowed to my friends that I had retired from the game for good.
I was coaxed back into it, though, when I learned my firm was putting together a team in anticipation of my arrival. I thought, too, that that the city league would give me a chance to get to know the people at my firm and in the community. Now that I'm back playing again, however, I just keep longing for those days when I can again step away from the game. The beatings my body takes have continued, and my skills have diminished just enough that there's no longer much, if any, finesse to my game. As a result I'm relegated to what I call the grunt work of the game, finding success only as I'm able to be more physical than my opponent. I'd say it's a living, but it's not. I get no other benefits from it now other than the exercise and some moderate degree of notoriety with the firm. That'd probably be enough if my body didn't take such a toll.
So at this point in my life, is it wrong that I'm quite contented to get my exercise instead by putting 10 miles on my exercise bike every morning? with a tennis match? or walking 18 holes? Few seem able to understand why I'd want that, though, and people's disbelief at my reticence to play these days almost makes me question whether I have made some great error in my calculus.
Hopefully, though, this post has helped convince some of the otherwise incredulous.
* Because of my size, I have almost always e been subjected to punishment from other teams above and beyond what most players experience. For some reason, being bigger than everyone else translates to most people (including referees unfortunately) that I can be subjected to more punishment than everyone else, more cheap fouls, hacking, and hanging on, simply as a matter of course. I used to accept the bruises, scratches, and injuries almost as an honor or badge of courage, but now I just kind of hate it. All the more because it now takes often takes me three or four days to recover from one night of basketball.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
All You Need to Know About Brownies
I was reminded again this afternoon for what makes for a proper brownie.
One needn't be concerned with lavish ingredients or mixes.* In fact, last night I used a Walmart brownie mix that was quite serviceable. The key to fully enjoying a brownie, instead, lies simply in letting them sit out overnight.
Indeed, for whatever reason, brownies always seem to taste better the day after they are made. I can't necessarily explain it, except for that they've obviously had time to cool down to room temperature by then (I find no benefits to hot brownies really--in fact it kind of annoys me when they're eaten with ice cream and the brownie starts to melt the ice cream. This is vastly different from my experiences eating vanilla ice cream with apple pie or apple crisp, both of which really need to be hot to be fully enjoyed).
The difficulty, of course, is that not many people make brownies so they can eat them the next day. In fact, in my house its a rarity when brownies even survive to the next day. If you can, though, try to take it as your rule to make your brownies a day ahead of time. Your eating experience will be sweeter, I assure you.
*Obviously I've mentioned elsewhere that I love Ghiradelli Triple Chocolate Brownies. I can't deny it. I'm just trying to say that on the whole I just plain enjoy a good brownie--the brand or particular ingredients don't matter (to an extent). This comes in stark contrast to my affinity for Breyer's vanilla ice cream. It is just so vastly superior to other brands that I have a hard time even mentioning it in the same paragraph because it almost seems like a different food altogether.
One needn't be concerned with lavish ingredients or mixes.* In fact, last night I used a Walmart brownie mix that was quite serviceable. The key to fully enjoying a brownie, instead, lies simply in letting them sit out overnight.
Indeed, for whatever reason, brownies always seem to taste better the day after they are made. I can't necessarily explain it, except for that they've obviously had time to cool down to room temperature by then (I find no benefits to hot brownies really--in fact it kind of annoys me when they're eaten with ice cream and the brownie starts to melt the ice cream. This is vastly different from my experiences eating vanilla ice cream with apple pie or apple crisp, both of which really need to be hot to be fully enjoyed).
The difficulty, of course, is that not many people make brownies so they can eat them the next day. In fact, in my house its a rarity when brownies even survive to the next day. If you can, though, try to take it as your rule to make your brownies a day ahead of time. Your eating experience will be sweeter, I assure you.
*Obviously I've mentioned elsewhere that I love Ghiradelli Triple Chocolate Brownies. I can't deny it. I'm just trying to say that on the whole I just plain enjoy a good brownie--the brand or particular ingredients don't matter (to an extent). This comes in stark contrast to my affinity for Breyer's vanilla ice cream. It is just so vastly superior to other brands that I have a hard time even mentioning it in the same paragraph because it almost seems like a different food altogether.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Labor Day Car Wash
Things started out well enough on Labor Day. I slept in a little bit, then got up, read the scriptures, and went through my exercise routine.
Shortly after breakfast I decided to take Jared with me to clean the car, which I tell you now is a bad idea (unless you plan to leave your child strapped in the car seat). I had some notions of this when I decided to take him, but ignored them. Once there at the Do-It-Yourself Car Wash, Jared was momentarily entertained by the soap on the ground and on the car. After that wore off though, he was wandering all over the place, running from me when I called him, and generally doing all the deviant little things 19 month olds are known for. I ended up having to hold him in one arm, and spray or scrub with the other. This cost me precious seconds on the rinse and wax cycle, and probably $1.50 more than I'd intended to spend.
With that over, I thought it was safe enough to vacuum the car with his help. Maybe he'd even help, since he loves to play with the vacuum at home. On this point I was again disappointed, as he seemed much more inclined to find things he shouldn't be touching. I eventually had to do what any good father would do: I put him in the front passenger's seat to sit while I worked. (Actually, he crawled over things to get there and I just let him stay). That spot seemed safe enough. I again went about my business of taking out the floor mats and the car seat to start vacuuming.
Not long after, though, I looked back to find that my son had found a stash of pennies. This might have been enough by itself to cause concern, but Jared also had the ingenuity to stuff as many as he could into the CD player. How he knew to do this (and with so little time to work) I cannot say. He is an exceptional little boy.
Two days later, there are pennies lodged in our car CD player that I do not know how to get out. The pennies block CDs from being fully inserted, so the machine is, for the moment, non-functional. It was one of those moments I am experiencing all the more often these days where I am initially terribly frustrated with him, but that frustration quickly gives when on remembering how young and innocent he is. I'd like to think I'll get to the point someday where I am past even that initial feeling of frustration, but that may not come in this lifetime.
The day all but fell about from there, and by the evening time there was no stopping me from having that extra bowl of Cookies & Cream ice cream. Can you blame me?
Shortly after breakfast I decided to take Jared with me to clean the car, which I tell you now is a bad idea (unless you plan to leave your child strapped in the car seat). I had some notions of this when I decided to take him, but ignored them. Once there at the Do-It-Yourself Car Wash, Jared was momentarily entertained by the soap on the ground and on the car. After that wore off though, he was wandering all over the place, running from me when I called him, and generally doing all the deviant little things 19 month olds are known for. I ended up having to hold him in one arm, and spray or scrub with the other. This cost me precious seconds on the rinse and wax cycle, and probably $1.50 more than I'd intended to spend.
With that over, I thought it was safe enough to vacuum the car with his help. Maybe he'd even help, since he loves to play with the vacuum at home. On this point I was again disappointed, as he seemed much more inclined to find things he shouldn't be touching. I eventually had to do what any good father would do: I put him in the front passenger's seat to sit while I worked. (Actually, he crawled over things to get there and I just let him stay). That spot seemed safe enough. I again went about my business of taking out the floor mats and the car seat to start vacuuming.
Not long after, though, I looked back to find that my son had found a stash of pennies. This might have been enough by itself to cause concern, but Jared also had the ingenuity to stuff as many as he could into the CD player. How he knew to do this (and with so little time to work) I cannot say. He is an exceptional little boy.
Two days later, there are pennies lodged in our car CD player that I do not know how to get out. The pennies block CDs from being fully inserted, so the machine is, for the moment, non-functional. It was one of those moments I am experiencing all the more often these days where I am initially terribly frustrated with him, but that frustration quickly gives when on remembering how young and innocent he is. I'd like to think I'll get to the point someday where I am past even that initial feeling of frustration, but that may not come in this lifetime.
The day all but fell about from there, and by the evening time there was no stopping me from having that extra bowl of Cookies & Cream ice cream. Can you blame me?
Friday, September 02, 2005
Contemplating the Chaos in New Orleans
My mind has been harrowed up lately by the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans and the surrounding areas. Admittedly, up until a few days ago, I had paid little attention to it in the news because it had initially seemed to me to be standard hurricane destruction (and, yes, I'm bothered a little bit--but not enough--to think that the standard hurricanes no longer immediatley get my attention). The days that have followed the hurricane, though, have shown the situation in New Orleans to be more dire than anything I had imagined possible here in the United States. The flooding, lack of food, water, or shelter, and the manner in which crowds of people are being herded like cattle (with dead bodies all around) alone are more than I can take.
Accompanying such desperate circumstances now, though, is a terrifying feeling of lawlessness and anarchy with rampant looting, rape, and whatever else the people brandishing weapons can get away with. I am hardly equipped with the words or experience to justly describe the depravity of the situation. My heart breaks to think of it, and yet I don't want to think of it too long because I cannot stand the thought of trading places with people there while still having a family to protect and care for. I feel terribly guilty for feeling glad that it's not us trapped there, but the guilt isn't enough to change those feelings entirely. I also feel guilty when I'm able to go about my day here in California and carry on just as though nothing disastrous had happened. At least when I'm thinking about it there seems to be some redemptive value in my distress--however little I comprehend of what's going on there.
Admittedly, I have even thought in some moments "Did the city bring this on itself?" I am not proud to have thought that, and I've been quick to banish such thoughts almost as quickly as they have come. That they came at all though stems from what little I know of New Orleans and its reputation, and also from my conviction that everything happens to us for a purpose.
If I rememeber right, similar comments were made following the September 11th attacks by some prominent Christian commentators: that the nation had been subject to the attacks because of its wickedness. Those comments almost universally struck me as inappropriate, and I felt some disgust at the ease of ascribing what had befallen us to some idea that we deserved it. I felt the same disgust when similar thoughts came to mind this week.
That is not to say it might not be true in part--though how can any of us be in the position to make such a call? The fact of the matter is, it doesn't matter anyway. I know from the Book of Mormon that God seems almost equally inclined to bring about such disasters both when the people are wicked and when they are righteous.* Whether it is for one reason or the other** (or if neither particularly warrant such a response) the answer should always be the same: to turn to Him. In that sense it hardly matters what provoked it, because He wants the same regardless. We are to look to Him for our direction, comfort, counsel, and correction. The speed with which we are able to turn to Him in such situations may not necessarily hasten the end of such suffering, but it certainly gives it meaning--and with that meaning, Hope. That is what we need now.
*The best example is in the book of Mosiah, where the Lord decided to "try" the "patience and [] faith" of the people of Helam by leading the Lamanites to them to bring them into captivity for a time. The Lord seems to make it clear that this particular trial was brought upon them because of their righteousness.
**It also seems entirely plausible that the Lord could meet out the destruction both as a punishment and "reward" at the same time, and that it would be imprudent to necessarily only ascribe one justification to an entire disaster. As C.S. Lewis pointed out in "The Horse and His Boy," God will tell you no one's story but your own--meaning that He's entirely capable of causing or allowing one large event, and yet still personally tailoring it to the needs and desserts of each individual. What also seems clear, is that it need to be left to God to tell each man their story, and any attempts we might make to adequately tell or understand another's is unjustified.
Accompanying such desperate circumstances now, though, is a terrifying feeling of lawlessness and anarchy with rampant looting, rape, and whatever else the people brandishing weapons can get away with. I am hardly equipped with the words or experience to justly describe the depravity of the situation. My heart breaks to think of it, and yet I don't want to think of it too long because I cannot stand the thought of trading places with people there while still having a family to protect and care for. I feel terribly guilty for feeling glad that it's not us trapped there, but the guilt isn't enough to change those feelings entirely. I also feel guilty when I'm able to go about my day here in California and carry on just as though nothing disastrous had happened. At least when I'm thinking about it there seems to be some redemptive value in my distress--however little I comprehend of what's going on there.
Admittedly, I have even thought in some moments "Did the city bring this on itself?" I am not proud to have thought that, and I've been quick to banish such thoughts almost as quickly as they have come. That they came at all though stems from what little I know of New Orleans and its reputation, and also from my conviction that everything happens to us for a purpose.
If I rememeber right, similar comments were made following the September 11th attacks by some prominent Christian commentators: that the nation had been subject to the attacks because of its wickedness. Those comments almost universally struck me as inappropriate, and I felt some disgust at the ease of ascribing what had befallen us to some idea that we deserved it. I felt the same disgust when similar thoughts came to mind this week.
That is not to say it might not be true in part--though how can any of us be in the position to make such a call? The fact of the matter is, it doesn't matter anyway. I know from the Book of Mormon that God seems almost equally inclined to bring about such disasters both when the people are wicked and when they are righteous.* Whether it is for one reason or the other** (or if neither particularly warrant such a response) the answer should always be the same: to turn to Him. In that sense it hardly matters what provoked it, because He wants the same regardless. We are to look to Him for our direction, comfort, counsel, and correction. The speed with which we are able to turn to Him in such situations may not necessarily hasten the end of such suffering, but it certainly gives it meaning--and with that meaning, Hope. That is what we need now.
*The best example is in the book of Mosiah, where the Lord decided to "try" the "patience and [] faith" of the people of Helam by leading the Lamanites to them to bring them into captivity for a time. The Lord seems to make it clear that this particular trial was brought upon them because of their righteousness.
**It also seems entirely plausible that the Lord could meet out the destruction both as a punishment and "reward" at the same time, and that it would be imprudent to necessarily only ascribe one justification to an entire disaster. As C.S. Lewis pointed out in "The Horse and His Boy," God will tell you no one's story but your own--meaning that He's entirely capable of causing or allowing one large event, and yet still personally tailoring it to the needs and desserts of each individual. What also seems clear, is that it need to be left to God to tell each man their story, and any attempts we might make to adequately tell or understand another's is unjustified.
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