Long time no post: Random stuff sitting on my desk and the thoughts they provoke.

Did you know if you remove a post it by peeling it side to side (instead of bottom to top) it will lie flat and not curl up and away?

I wonder who invented the highlighter. I always liked used textbooks with highlighting in them. Somebody else had already drawn my attention to the important stuff.

There must be a million crafts that start off with, "Ok, round up a few dozen toilet paper rolls."

Will we ever have one translation of the Bible we all like? Hmm... no.

I don't like my phone extension 4863. Its not prime, it doesn't repeat anything. Sad.

I haven't fed my Webkinz online pet in months, I think he's dead but I'm afraid to check. At this point he's like Schrödinger's Cat... Trey's Lion will one day be the digital equivalent.

Thumb tacks are cool.

How long has that sticker been there?

Why isn't that guy still making The Far Side cartoons.

What's in that wicker thing on my desk? Should I open it? I'm better off not knowing.

The Book "Seven Principles of Effective Ministry" is the only book of its kind that has ever helped me. Define the win!

What pictures are on that disposable camera? How long has it sat there? Should I just throw it away.

MOM! READ THIS! - Somebody donated and I scooped up a great Frankoma Bowl! How about that!?

Pez needs a more convenient way to load in candy.

I don't even have a computer that will read 3.5 floppy disks anymore.

Is it time to take down Christmas cards?

Magnetix are cool toys but the little magnets come out to easy... swallowing hazard.

What is ink so expensive?

Whenever I see a move where a guy gets fired I'm always surprised that all of his personal belonging can fit into ONE copy paper box.

T-Dobs: Tax Season

T-Dobs is a word I've coined that stands for the rare feeling I get which is "The Downside of Being Single." I can go weeks or months without the sensation, but when it hits, it hits.

It hit the other night when I finished my taxes online. I usually put them off til the weekend before the 15th. Which I guess technically isn't even procrastinating. Its due the 15th, I sent mine in on the 12th. That's downright early. (The Gov wants your money early so it can get some quick interest on it. I don't give them the pleasure.)

Anyway, taxes are hard even for a stat junky like me because I neatly file all the required receipts and pieces of mail in over 200 places around my house/trash can.

So when I finally get done and turbotax tells me that I won't be going to jail for tax fraud (this year) I'm pretty excited.

I spun around and wanted to announced it to someone... but there was nobody there. I really wanted a wife to high-five me on a job well done. I thought about calling a friend but they wouldn't care... it would be like asking for an "attaboy" for something I had to do anyway.

I was sure that if I had a wife she'd've high-fived me and I got a momentary case of T-Dobs... also I was a little sunburned and needed someone to aloe my back... but if I'd've had a wife she should have known to put sunscreen on me in the first place so I got angry at my non-existent wife for not taking better care of me and the T-Dobs passed.

A Dream I Had Last Night

I'm a grown man but for some reason I'm also a baby. I've forgotten much of my past and am relearning things like how to talk coherently and many fine motor tasks.

Me and the other adult-toddlers have made macaroni art because our parents are coming to visit the government facility we're being held in. They demonstrate what we've learned and it ain't much. Are parent's are hopeful, my mother cries when "the boss" (who I can't see the face of) says "They may never get back who they used to be."

The other toddlers are dumber than me. Only I can understand parts of what the grown-ups are saying. Things about a virus and terrorists. About us having used to be able to talk and run and dance and things.

I become angry because I realize what I've lost. A woman named Correy rings a bell at me and I get disoriented. When I wake I have regressed. I can't walk as well or talk as well. But I put it together that the people here are purposefully keeping me stupid.

I make attempts to blend in with the other infants. I notice that if any begin to flourish and regain intelligence they have that bell rang at them and become droolers again.

I drool but I think and think of a way out. Then salvation appears, "the boss" is coming in for a visit. And it turns out to be my brother-in-law Fred. He'll help me!

Only he looks me in the eye and says, "You're not telling anybody now, are you?" Dominoes in my brain fall into place. I learned a secret about Fred and he's desperate to keep me from spreading it.

Fred makes sure none of us are wising up then tells Corry that before the next parent evaluation there will be a sad regression. We'll all get dumber still and they'll have to try "a different theory." And then they can start letting some of us pass away, starting with me.

I only have until the weekend when my parents show up to do something or they'll hit me again with the bell and disguise my death as a result of this virus.

My only advantage is being able to learn faster than the other adult-toddlers.

Step one plug my ears and get into the kitchen which is guarded by bell machines, security is pretty lax because we are all idiots. Step two get some kind of proof. Then I find something better. The virus... Fred exposed me too it. Maybe I can return the favor... but then I'd never know what happened... I have to get out...

Correy enters the kitchen to find a grown-toddler holding a hypodermic needle. I begin to fiddle with it like its a toy and then hide it behind my back in a obvious fashion.

"Give me that... you'll hurt yourself."

"No! It's mine!" I clutch it to my chest.

"Trey, I'll trade you for a cookie." Apparently Toddler Trey is easily tempted with food.

I hold it out and look excited. She approaches trying to mask her anger at me. When she gets close I jab her in the arm with it and push down the plunger.

She falls unconscious. When she wakes she'll be one of us. One of the toddlers she abused.

I have to get out of here. But everything is locked. I open the fridge and the phone rings....

I wake up... because the phone is my alarm clock.



There are a lot of unanswered questions:
* What did I learn about Fred?
* What there really a Virus attack?
* Where there even really terrorists?
* Can I get out of the hospital?
* Can I extract revenge?
* What about the other patients? They'll die soon... and what did they know that was too dangerous?
* Can I fully recover?
* Will I dream part 2 or be foreced to come up with my own ending?

Reflection following Baby Blessing and Trey wearing a suit

We blessed 30 babies last night! 30! This church has been blessed, in fact there were more babies but some of them couldn't make it.

I put on my monkey suit to do my part. Its easier than getting dirty looks from old people. Unfortunately its all I heard about for a few hours. How nice you looked in a suit. Why don't you always where a tie? I didn't know you could clean up so good? You look like a grown up, good for you. Trey, is that you?

Let me translate: God likes you more when you play dress up.

I'm tired of feeling like Church is a fancy seafood restaurant with a dress code. If that's the case would should have a loaner coat and tie at the door for people. I adhere to a much softer, friendlier set of rules. Church should follow the 7/11 example: No shoes. No shirt. No service.

There's a dress code I can understand and get behind! Come as you are!

Yes, I know I look amazing in a suit. I'll give you that one. But what image am I trying to send? I got so many compliments last night I'm afraid I caused women to sin lustfully and men to sin jealously. I'd much rather come to church looking to the kids like what their dad's wear on Saturday afternoon.

Besides, ties have no evolutionary purpose. Is there somebody out there who is really cold right down the middle of their chest?

A final anecdote to prove my rant: I went to Bible Hour to make sure things went well after church. My nephew, Maddox (who I call Legend), was there running around. Usually when he sees me he is happy to and runs over to me. But not last night in my monkey suit. I called out, "Legend!" He smiled real big and started looking around for me. Unfortunately I was standing right in front of him. He didn't recognize me in that get up. He actually ran around to me to look for me!

I'll keep my one coat and tie for now... for now...

FONTS

Why are there so many fonts?

Why sometimes are there so few?

Why can I never find the one I want?

Why don't they have more descriptive titles?

Why don't I have a font named after me?

What is the origin of the word font?

Who can actually read wing dings?