When January 14th thru the 16th rolls around...

We are going to be "HULA DOULA-ing."

That's right everyone... Sydney and I are traveling to Denver for one of our former youth kid's weddings and Hula Doula... that's right, THEE Hula Doula... has invited us to stay at her house for the weekend. We finally get to meet one of our blogging friends! How cool is that?!? I left a message on her blog last night telling her that we would be in Denver that weekend and that it would be fun to get together. To my surprise... she called us about 15 minutes later and asked... NO... INSISTED that we stay with her family. As we began to turn her down... she started to have an evil shrill in her voice and sounded all "stalkerish" as she started banging the phone on the table... and psycho music started playing in the background...so we apprehensively accepted.

Okay... she didn't sound all stalkerish and we accepted her invitation without thinking twice... and boy are we excited... but that's besides the point. :)

We are leaving Jake, Mack and Bug Bug at my brother's and his wife's place and Benjeeno is traveling with us. We will leave at 6:00 am Saturday morning... the wedding is at 7 pm that night... then I believe there is a reception on Sunday afternoon and then we leave early Monday morning to comeback to Minnesota.

We can't wait Hula!

Should Sydney bring her grass skirt and coconut bikini top?? lol.

Tooth Crack-a-lackin!

I cracked a tooth this weekend... Cracking teeth is not a good thing. I think it is a sign of old age. I actually cracked it while I was sleeping on saturday night... I was dreaming that I was eating jawbreakers and I woke up with red, blue, green and yellow slobber all over my pillow and a cracked tooth.

Okay, that was a lie... I didn't dream about eating jawbreakers... but it did happen in my sleep.

I grind my teeth at night. A past dentist of mine said that I have the teeth of a 60 year old because they have been ground down so much. (And that was about 7 years ago... so now I guess I have the teeth of a 67 year old.) Anyway, I went to the dentist yesterday... and he fixed the "fracture in tooth number 18"; in otherwords, he fixed the gaping hole in my back left lower molar (tooth #18).

ANYWAY... I have a temporary cap on my tooth as they order the "permanent" crown. $400 later... tooth number 18 will be good as new...

So, Merry Christmas to me... I get to gum my food because chewing is painful to me... for whatever reason, I can only open my jaw 9/16th's of an inch. Yes, I measured how wide I could open my mouth because Sydney asked me last night if that was as wide as I could open my mouth... and I said, "yes." ... and then she called me a freak. To which my response (in my head of course) was... "a woman who has arms so long that her knuckles drag on the floor and a mouth that opens so wide that she can put her fist in her mouth... should be careful when she uses the word "freak." "

That's what I told her in the depths of my mind anyway...

Flashbacks.

Eddie's posts about how NOT to try and fit in back when he was growing up have been giving me flashbacks into my elementary school days...

The first flashback (not sure why I thought of this memory) was to my firstgrade teacher... Mrs. Ferguson. She was the prettiest teacher I had EVER seen... and I remember on my first day of school... I experienced my first "school boy" crush on Mrs. Ferguson and I felt all tingly in my right shoe and I figured that that is how you feel when you like someone... your toes get all tingly.

Then I got home and when I took off my shoe, I had a BEETLE in my shoe. I KNOW. Scared the crap out of me so I beat it as hard as I could with my shoe until it was dead. Talk about disillusioned.

Anyway, my next flashback was when I was in 5th grade... this follows the lines of Eddie's how not to fit in post:

When you are in the 5th grade, never eat a big lunch and then ride the merry-go-round throughout the entire recess. Then, during "story time" when the teacher is reading Old Yeller, or Where the Red Fern Grows or Pinballs... or what ever story she is reading, do not vomit all over the round table causing people to scatter and causing said vomit to seap into everyone's tote trays.

This will not help you fit in...

I am sure I was known as "vomit boy" for at least a few weeks.

Traditions.

I love Christmas... really I am like a big kid. Sydney also adds to my Christmas spirit because she is so enthuisiastic about Christmas... We are playing Christmas music BEFORE Thanksgiving in our house. Growing up, the Christmas season didn't "officially" arrive at our house until the day after Thanksgiving. Although every Thanksgiving dinner, Mom and Dad would discuss when the Christmas "records" could come out. Mom would always win and while the table was being cleared from our feast of Turkey, stuffing, "cranberry goop" and what not, Dad would put the records on the old turntable. I have good memories of Christmas's past... but this morning, I am just beginning to realize that Christmas Present and Christmas's yet to come will be just as exciting. In Sydney's house, her mom never put names on packages, but put a code on the gifts that indicated who they were for... so neither she nor her sister and brother's would know whose gifts were whose. We have continued this same tradition in our house as well and as the gifts begin to pile up under the tree... Jake and Micker Mackers are beginning to try and figure out the code... As I left for work this morning they were both scratching their heads, wondering who the "BIG" gift towards the back was for... cause you know... the BIGGER the gift, the better the present that is inside of it. lol.

I am all about traditions. Traditions help to make the memories special. In my formative years, Mom used to make a huge Christmas dinner that would take all day to prepare... usually the menu was porkchops and cornish game hens... Why porkchops and cornish game hens? I have no idea... but the porkchops were always so dry and I had to choke them down with a couple of glasses of water. Anyway, my mom finally revolted and decided that she would no longer spend all day in the kitchen while the family slept and relaxed. So, sometime in the mid 80's our tradition became: Homemade pizza every year. Mom would make the crusts early in the week and freeze them and then when Christmas day would roll around, she would quickly put the sauce and toppings on and Viola! The best homemade pizza you have ever tasted. (And it sure beat choking down a dried up old porkchop.) Till this day, when we go to my folks' place on Christmas... it's homemade pizza.

Each year, Sydney and I add to our list of traditions and slowly, we are creating traditions of our own... Our first OFFICIAL "were in a fight" fight after we were married occured in the isles of Walmart as we determined whether there would be fat colorful lights or tiny colorful lights on the tree. Also, my family used to have a star on the top of the tree and her family had an angel. It was the collision of two worlds... and it was not pretty. The only thing we could agree on was an angel that we found for the top of the tree. In the end, neither of us got our way... we have white lights on our Christmas tree because we would both rather go with something else rather than give in to the other person. But we are still married, so: no blood, no foul. I think that if you can make it through the combining of traditions... you will be married for life. :)

I have mellowed since then, and if we were to have the same "discussion" I would probably say... "That's fine... little colored lights on the tree are fine Sydney." Funny how as you get older, you gain perspective.

ANYWAY... this whole long story to sum up the fact that I love tradition.

Under the weather.

Where does this saying come from? Can anyone explain to me what being under the weather feels like?

Where ever it comes from... that's what I am feeling I guess.

Don't get too close to your computer screen... you might catch it.

Change in my commenting...

Well, I am officially switching from haloscan to blogger comments. Haloscan deletes all of your comments on anything more than "X" number of months old.

As Eddie would say, "LIVID I WAS."

So for those of you who had all your comments deleted. Try to remember what you put and go back and re-submit them for me.... would ya?

Chatter... Chatter... Chatter.

It is so FLIPPIN cold in my office right now... Not sure what the deal is but I am tempted to go out and by a space heater and charge it to my office. Over the last couple of days, the "Northerners" (Steve, Stephanie and Myself) have been going a round with the "Texans" (Katie, Amstaff Mom, Eddie, and Jes) about the fact that 26 degrees is not cold. You want to feel cold people? Just come to my office... It must be like... 26 degrees or something. Yes... that is not a warm 26 degrees out side... but a cold 26 degrees inside my office. It is -1 below outside. With no wind chill factor. If you want cold... try setting your office up outside in the 26 degree temperature... then you will know what cold is. I have a coke can sitting on my window sill that is ice cold though it has not once seen the inside of a refrigerator. Ah, jes... looking out into a winter wonder land is great... but I am dying for your warm cube right now...

Of course this brings me to my next point...

At the risk of stepping over the line once again...

My nipples are hard... Now my question is: Why did God give guys nipples? They serve no purpose what-so-ever. Yes... I know... you could all careless what the state of my nipples are right now... but this comment of course leads me to my next comments...

"You can pretty much milk anything with nipples."

"I have nipples Greg, Can you milk me?"

Point of this post... besides neatly connecting all of our blogs together...?

It's flippin cold in my office.

Let's talk Legacy.

Driving home yesterday, I started thinking about my post yesterday. I turned 33 yesterday so it was no milestone birthday... just another year. And I don't feel old and I think 33 is rather young so I don't mean to imply that I am old... but I must say that thinking about my post as I was driving, my thoughts moved on to this idea that eventually I won't always be here. For some this is a morbid thought, but for me... not so much. Just a fact of life I guess. But I began to think about what kind of Legacy I would leave behind. Of course the Bible states that the sins of the father will be past down to 3rd and 4th generations... (Exodus 20:5) and likewise, finding favor in the Lord's eyes will also affect the generations to come (Genesis 17:7).

So it is clear to me that how we live our life will have an effect on those who come after us. If we live in a way that is pleasing to God, this will be credited to us as righteousness and as a result, his blessings will be passed down through the generations... If our lives are plagued with poor choices marked by unrestraint and evil desires, so too will the lives be of the generations that are to follow. Without question, a challenging thought... and one we shouldn't trivialize. But we find ourselves doing this daily. Too often, we think that the choices we make only affect us. That somehow, we aren't hurting anybody else by making a choice that goes against the Lord's instruction.

It is clear that this is not the case.

But back to this idea of legacy... if the sins of the father are passed down to the 3rd and 4th generation, then what will my legacy be for my kids? Furthermore, how can I impact this legacy for my kids in a personal way that will stand as instruction for times when I am no longer here? Spoken words and memories fade quickly, but something in writing can span a lenghth of time far greater than 4 generations. How can I influence my children's children... and my Great, Great Grandkids...?

And then a thought occurred to me:

What if I start an open letter to my kids instructing them over time in the way they should go. Insight as I see them grow... commenting on their strengths and weaknesses. In this personal letter to each of them I could impart wisdom gained over the years... possibly allowing them to learn from my mistakes rather than repeating them. Through these letters to Jacob, MacKenzie, Leah and Benjamin, I could gently instruct them in the ways of the Lord. Upon my death these letters would be given to them as a way of encouraging them to stand strong for the Lord and to give guidance long after I am gone. Something that will help them to guide the next generations of my family. Something that would matter... Simply put: A Legacy.

So, starting today, I will be creating 4 new blogs that I will write to each of my kids as I have individual things to say to each of them... Instructing them in the way they should go... so that when they are old, they will not depart.

Anyway, those were my thoughts as I was driving home yesterday afternoon on my 33rd birthday.

It's all in your Perspective...

In the eyes of my kids:
"Dad is Old."

In the eyes of my parents:
"I am in my prime."

In the eyes of co-workers:
"I am young."

In the eyes of some of my blogging friends (ahem, Katie):
"I am an OLD man."

Whatever your perspective is... I am one year older today.

What's my perspective?

I feel invincible... that I will always be young. That I will live forever.
I don't feel any different from one year to the next...

Funny how old age sneaks up on you.

I think one day, you just wake up and you are old. But I am not there yet... at least that's my perspective anyway.

Go Figure...

My daughter informed me last night that she does not believe in the following:

Tooth fairy (Though she still wants a quarter under her pillow...)
Santa
Easter Bunny
OR Jack Frost.

(Which one of you told her??!?! )

She does believe in Jesus though...

How cool is that?