Memorable Weekend

Some reflections on my time in Boston that made it one of the best
weekends in many moons:

The "Star-Spangled Banner". My sole requirement factor for performing
this in public is the goosebump factor. There are many ways to
accomplish this, and Boston nailed it...God did His part by throwing
up a full palatte of sunset colors over the Charles River, the Boston
Pops provided the appropriate orchestral accompaniment, and the song's
crescendo was punctuated by a pair of F-18 jets cruising by low and
loud with their afterburners blazing.

It was good to see The Sabellian and send him off to Portland to
prepare for the wedding. It was fantastic having good conversations on
life, vocation, intermediate career steps, passions, independence and
sacrifice within marriage, wedding preparation, and community -- all
while standing outside of a swanky retail storefront in an upscale
part of downtown, commenting on plastic surgery on passersby and
watching while a couple guys threw the frisbee in the street,
occasionally hitting parked cars.

The sheer magnitude of the fireworks we're pretty astounding. Aside
from the various "I've never seen these type of fireworks before", the
night sky was so illuminated that it required concentrating with your
peripheral vision to absorb the entirety of the performance. It was
like watching one of those group dance numbers at the theatre, only
this stage stretched from the horizon to directly overhead.

The surrounding crowd enjoyment was equally pleasant. Sitting for nine
hours could have been grueling, but we passed the time admirably,
taking turns shopping, people-watching, grazing, conversing, inviting
friends-of-friends to drop by, and listening to the All-American music
soundtrack played throughout the Esplanade. When the Pops played
"Shipping Up to Boston," we we're fortunate to have an Irish dancer
just a few picnic blankets away who danced along for a little while.

While the big firework blowout was on the 4th, The Sabellians'
neighborhood does their big celebration on the evening of the 3rd (as
they say, "before all the tourists roll into town"). Although this
tourist arrived after much of the festivities died down, there was
still signs of merriment, with bonfires aplenty, bongo drums,
spontaneous dancing, and (yes!) a didgeridoo. Nature shuts down the
party around midnight with the incoming tide, extinguishing the fires
and coaxing everyone off the beach.

Of course, no weekend is complete without someone chiming in with some
crazy statistic or quip. It was The Philosophress' turn this time
around, having just read an article that found a chemical in
watermelon could be considered "the poor man's Viagra." Naturally,
that became the running joke in the Sabellian household, prompting Dad
Sabellian to question Mom Sabellian about her choice of vitamin
supplements - labeled "male performance formula" with a picture of the
male pectoral area. A closer inspection of the printed warning
included "do not take while pregnant". If you're confused, so were we.
Suffice to say, I think watermelon will be somehow involved in The
Sabellian's bachelor festivities next month.

Lastly, no great weekend is complete without highlighting the
awesomeness of The Philosophress. Last night, we took one of the last
trains out of the city, and she provided the iPod soundtrack. When the
rest of the subway car emptied 2 stops before ours, that left plenty
of space for me to request a dance. Even with everything mentioned
above, I think the highlight of my weekend was sharing a dance and a
pair of headphones with The Philosophress, singing in an empty subway
car sometime after midnight.

Blast from the Past

So this is a bit dated, but I went swing dancing a couple weekends ago
for the first time in a *long* time. One of the guys in my small group
was going, and I figured these sorts of things are better as a group.

I realized a couple things about myself, and probably about life in
general. Dancing is less about technical skill and more about
enjoyment. I can still remember some fancy turns and such, but I found
myself not connecting with soul of the music and the moment -
literally just going through the motions.

The thing was, nobody else cared if I was on rhythm, but it was a tad
awkward when I was overly apologetic. I quickly learned that most
missteps were easily overlooked with a wink and a sly grin -- one of
those "that was interesting, but I probably won't try that again"
moments.

The last time I danced regularly, I always took pride that I was on
top of my game. Strong, confident, and in control, I felt the rhythm
of the music.

Something happened between then and now, or rather, many things. I
cannot return to the place of innocence, where there was no failure.
Confidence without failure or hardship - what sort of emotion is that?
But while it is hard to feel the music, at least I can still hear it
- and while I no longer can execute flawless and intricate moves, I
need to become more proficient at learning how to smile at my flaws
while still connecting and working with others.

Bon Jovi

So I had the privilege of seeing Bon Jovi this evening, and I have a couple observations. First, I was in a corporate suite (sweet!), and it was like walking into a den of cougars. All these middle-aged women who left their husbands at home to go out and have a fantastic time singing at the top of their lungs, having a few drinks, and chatting up younger dudes (such as myself and my traveling companions for the evening).

Lesson #1: Don't become such a dull guy that sitting on the couch at home is acceptable for a Friday night.

Lesson #2: Don't become such a dull guy that the wife will have more fun leaving you behind, knowing she'll meet more entertaining characters at whatever party or event she's attending.


During one of the songs, they showed images from Americana (county fairs, rolling hills, mountains & canyons, children playing Little League, high school football games, small-town Main Streets, etc). I realized that all those images are like the anti-SoCal. What's more, I found myself strangely disconnected from them -- I know that my heart really enjoys that depth, but surrounded by thousands of other suburbanites, I found myself thinking along with them, "How hokey." I long to get caught up in good people and a slower pace of life -- the pressures and expectations out here are still daunting, even though I'm continually in a better place internally.

Lesson #3: Expend a *tremendous* amount of effort pursuing an Atlanta job. All places are not equal, and SoCal just wears me down and tires me out. I'm doing a much better job at being authentic, but a change of scenery will also be a cause for great personal growth.

Dancing with the Funk

For whatever reason, everyone in my office watches "Dancing with the Stars." I've poked enough fun at those folks around the water cooler, not to mention the fact that I actually used to do that sort of thing with some regularity. So I decided that I'd start watching once the new season began a couple weeks ago.

I'm hooked.

Of course, there's lots of filler, unnecessary tension and buildup -- but the dancing...ah, the dancing! When I think back to catalysts that bring about passion and enjoyment inside me, dancing is one of those. In my search for authenticity, dancing in high school was probably the first time I stepped out of my "comfort zone" and found something that I could call my own. There's so much to love about dancing: performance, music, rhythm, athleticism, and who can argue with the 3-to-1 girl/guy ratio? Naturally, I have to be more sensible about these things these days (I spent too much of my wedding reception dancing with other women to the exclusion of The Philosophress!), but I've learned that it's not always best to throw out the baby with the bathwater.

We don't stop being ourselves once we decide to marry, and I'm learning some of the things I released in the name of "responsibility" I must take up again in the name of "passionate spontaneity." Status quo is for old people (or maybe for people who live in the same city as their spouse...)

A Match Made With Trouble

What happens when I connect two Domers from different parts of the country who both have experience in hotel management?

Hilarity.

In a few short hours, we had:

- gotten myself invited to an afterparty this week -- free refreshments (I'll provide the high fashion and good looks)

- found our way into the end of a Lifehouse concert at the House of Blues (complete with the come-in-through-the-kitchen back entrance)

- shared incredible customer relations disaster stories (I did more "listening" than "sharing"). My favorite: a stalker being hauled off to jail (repeatedly violating the restraining order held by an employee), only to use their *one phone call* to telephone the victim...despite cautioning the police "don't let this guy contact the victim." You can't make this stuff up.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

There's just something about blues music that makes one want to dance, to sing, and to play it simultaneously. Here's a star-studded cast, all orchestrated by one Paul Shaffer (of David Letterman fame) -- you'll see him running around shouting instructions. Actually, he directed and produced all the music for the Blues Brothers movies, so while his act on Letterman is a bit kitschy, I have the utmost respect for him as a musical talent.

Jerry , Ray & Fats
Uploaded by strayvick

Week in Review

This has been a pretty crazy week, but in a good way. Got to spend some quality (and quantity!) time with one of my cousins and my baby sister -- sort of letting them know the Important Things and that I'm an available resource for them if necessary before I heed on out.

I'm also trying to keep a level head about the upcoming interview. It requires a ten-minute presentation on the topic of my choice , and I think I've found something that is appropriate parts professional, informative, and humorous. It's challenging to keep in mind that this may not be the "right fit" or that even if I think it's a great job, they may not be equally enamored. Hopefully I don't have to actually go down the "sit in California for another 3 months and continue job-hunting" road, but it's a possibility I still need to consider.

I'm using this week as my last pensive week to ensure I'm taking the balanced approach, then next week it's all preparation, all the time. I'm viewing this as much performance as it is a presentation, and starting this weekend, it's Game Face time.



Well, I'll probably go with something other than the "jacket, tie, and shorts" look.

Should this be labeled "Poignant" or "Ironic"?

Heard this song today while spending time with the fam. Fast forward to the 2:00 mark for the real good stuff.

Safe to say, I'll be learning how to play this on the piano tomorrow.

Requiem for an Old Friend

Well, with moving and all, there are some things that can't make the journey. Unfortunately, one of those things is Ye Olde Guitar Case, my faithful companion since the 5th grade. A quick recollection says this has been to countless church camps (Yosemite, Big Bear, Catalina Island) in my youth, along with crazy plane trips to/from the Midwest. It also got banged up and down stairs at the ol' Morrissey Manor, with no elevator and whatnot. A couple months before graduation the handle broke off, so I had to do the ol' "sack of flour" carry to/from ISI. The parents splurged and got me a cool high-tech plastic case for Christmas that will protect the six-stringer much better now, but I didn't want to part with the old case. But thanks to blogging, I feel I can give the appropriate eugugoly.


I think Ten Foot Pole was some band that played at my church in high school (no, I've never heard of them again either). But no one can argue that Ghoti Hook makes Elvis sweat.



Then there's the Five Iron Frenzy sticker that refines the Colorado state flag, and a sticker from a tattoo parlor in Long Beach (where I got all my phat body art)


Yeah, the Olympic sticker was cool, but no one disagrees with God's football preferences.


Hangnail (bringing glam rock riffs back), my boys at Pax, a Ghoti Hook Japanese style sticker, and POD (from SD)


The closest I ever got to listening to emo was Monday's Hero, who opened for Hangnail somewhere up in Michigan (one of the many shows Zachariah and I hit desperately trying to keep the punk rawk alive at ND). More Pax, and also my token sticker from the "Ska Against Racism" festival tour in HS.


And of course, a retro sticker (there had to be at least one). Call this the "Rumpersticker" and place it appropriately to show how you're behind the Irish too. That reminds me...everyone got all up in arms at the Bookstore a few years back about how they were selling those short booty/cheerleader shorts with "Irish" across the back. Looks like the Bookstore has been making it easy for guys to ogle for longer than anyone realized...

Weekend in Review, Part One of ??

I think my body has finally readjusted back to the Pacific Time Zone (boo!), and with that comes some extra time in the morning to reflect on the weekend.

The whole weekend experience was refreshing. The ISI Reunion was incredible, and true to form, Craigger and I showed up 7 minutes late. That was ok because, true to ISI form, nothing started until 8:15. It was really wild to see so many unexpected faces, and just a reminder of how many divergent personalities found a place at ISI -- some who made ISI their focus, and others who were involved in many other things but saw something worthwhile in the people.

I can remember back to my sophomore year and the various discussions in Jedi Council, probably the most important burden on our hearts was "acting small" even as ISI grew. At that time, we had the distinct opportunity of seeing Hunter, Jerry, and Billy at various points throughout the year, and the ISI crowd-at-large was able to observe their passion and vision. As the Sabellian and I got into our upperclass years, we had several discussions on how to make the community aspect permanent as the faces changed.

It was absolutely incredible to watch the video presentation and to see faces I didn't know restating the vision of ISI. I know Hunter was blown away by what he saw, and I came away equally refreshed. It's one thing to hear Craigger and T-Hall talk about what ISI should be, but to hear current underclassmen echo these core tenets on Thursday was really incredible.

To be clear, ISI is not about me, nor is it about Hunter or anyone else currently in leadership. But the question of consistency has weighed on me since graduation -- how is it possible to maintain a community of openness, exhortation, and friendship throughout the years? ISI has been able to do this, and has become a "sense of place" for me because of what it continues to be and not merely for what it once was.

The past couple years have shown me what happens when there aren't enough good people in your life. ISI was an incredible opportunity to meet good people and to introduce good people to others. It is amazing to know that ISI is still in the business of refining and connecting good people together. I know that ND has a tradition of being a place of spiritual formation, and I think ISI has established itself as a subset of that experience. I feel blessed to have encountered the people that I did, and I'm even more encouraged to return and see that ISI is still a place where others can experience similar connections.

ISI & Blue-Gold

I booked my flights yesterday to head back to ND for the ISI Reunion & Blue-Gold weekend. More details to come...

A Good Mike Is Hard To Find

Goodness knows it's been hard to make much sense of anything in life that was dated 2005 and 2006. I guess I count progress by the number of things that "fall into place" so to speak. Few people have been around to see the really bad times (your medals will be mailed to you shortly), and even though I don't feel qualified to take on the role of sensei, I guess now's as good a time as any.

It's very bizarre, but I'm a complicated (some would say "goofy") person, and I sort of have my own way about things. The tough part is it's hard to take cues from others, since some things other folks do backfire when I try them, and explaining these phenomena usually elicits a cocked-head and glassy eyes.

Then there are those who step into my life numerous times and say, "you know I've been dealing with this issue" and I get the feeling someone's transcribed my mental and relational experiences and read them aloud.

I have wished to forget many circumstances, and hope that many of my words will be forgotten as well. But I guess the next best thing is to come alongside fellow travelers and provide a roadmap detailing the path I've found myself on. It's tough looking back and recalling the pitfalls, valleys, and despair -- but also rewarding to say, "This road is the lesser-traveled and is not advisable for everyone. But since you're here, it will help to avoid this trap, and please use caution and teamwork to master this rough patch."

Brighter days do lie ahead, and I continually keep this in my mind. It's nice, in the midst of difficulties, to have moments where the clouds part and revelations abound. I guess I'll just try and keep that in mind in case there's rain and washed-out roads ahead.

"Of course I've been this way before...nothing to it!"

Cranking Up the Engine...

So The Philosophress is checking out Durham for us this weekend and trying to make us some new friends -- the few folks we've gotten to know have left the state (or the continent), so we may as well consider greener (and less smoggy) pastures.

More good news: it's looking quite likely that a ND trip during the Blue-Gold weekend is in store for me. I'll be getting the final OK from the boss on Monday (hopefully the official word is "yes"), at which point I'll be calling in several favors for lodging, transportation, Flex Points, and good games...wait, scratch that last part. It's a pilgrimage of sorts for me, in a very real sense. I just hope the boss doesn't throw cold water on my parade come Monday (I must be sleepy because my metaphors are all mixed up).

(Semi-) New Revelations

So The Philosophress hit up UCLA yesterday for some more grad school events, checking out the curricula and people. Apparently there are other high-powered professional-type women who marry dorks like me. This made me feel a tad better -- Money Magazine recently had an article on households where the woman is the Chief Breadwinner -- and this will certainly be true for us soon if the current trend holds.

I've gotten myself in trouble trying in the past trying to make the Absolute Best Decision for us (part of the reason why the CA move was so horrendous), and I'm trying to scale back and do my thing instead of patterning my life after everyone else's.

The Philosophress said lots of people up at UCLA want to meet me, because I sound fun and exciting -- which is definitely who I am when I'm in my element, but less so when I'm trying to be all official and responsible. Thankfully, I think I've learned what happens when I try to be the uber-driven one in the house. Instead, I get to be the comic relief.

I apparently have kindred spirits, because other female MBA applicants have married husbands who write poetry, are musicians, and who cook. So much the better, I say. I'll leave the big business decisions to other folks, so long as I get to blog and tinker with music and read. As I told someone yesterday, I feel like somewhat of a Superhero -- doing all of this creative/cultured stuff on the nights and weekends after being all buttoned-up and businesslike on the job during the week.

Here's my roadmap, and I'm trying to stick to it. (Well, all but the part where it suggests Forest Ranger as a possible career -- these things aren't right all the time, you know.)

Music. S'good.

Random thought for today: music is pretty sweet. I think I've been underestimating it in general. I don't know, for whatever reason I've felt like it's time to leave the "I'm in a band!" stage of life behind me, and with that went most of my music. I've been cruising along listening to talk radio in the car or whatever, and not really doing much in the way of guitar these days.

But recent conversations and experiences have reminded me that it's good to listen to music sometimes, that words and sounds transport us back to different times, places, and experiences, and that's not such a bad thing.

This probably doesn't happen to too many other people, but I guess music works a different part of my brain. I'm definitely not a musician in the traditional sense (not being able to read music and all) but for whatever reason some things just *resonate* with me (for lack of a better term).

So my resolution for the week is to try and figure out a good list of sweet music to listen to on my way to work in the mornings. Any and all suggestions are welcome, and hopefully I'll be able to find enough songs that make me say "Yes! That's exactly the sound/message/words/emotion I'm hoping for."

Poker. Sweet.

So last night I got invited to a Dudes Poker Night, the first I’ve attended since my bachelor party (aka the Night of Hot Pink Revelry). Turns out all the World Series of Poker I watched while I was unemployable reaps some rewards. Of the 15 or so guys who showed up, I placed third and won back 50% of my whopping $5 buy-in.

Even better than that, it was some good company in large doses, something I’ve been lacking for quite a while (although I supplemented my week with good phone conversations with the Sabellian and T-Ruggalicious). But it really was a relief to chill with guys who were knowledgeable about good musicians and songwriters (Otis Redding, Billie Holliday, Norah Jones, Josh Groban) but could transition to discussing the merits of drinking Fuzzy Navels with other dudes.


A couple more updates. First bit of good news: the insurance company saw fit to reimburse us for the wedding ring, and for the first time in some time I thought, “Wow, that didn’t end even worse than I expected!” The Philosophress was OK with my version of the story, and we return to the sea-ne of the crime (just sound it out) in a few hours...good thing it’s cooled down in the past week (not really). I may have to stage another capsize, but suffice to say The Philosophress’ rings are not going sailing with us. Of course that doesn’t prohibit the cats from finding them and running off with them while we’re gone (our little girl kitty was a pack rat in a former life...my aunt says she’s just padding her nest. Apparently the “fixing” surgery doesn’t remove instinct.)

And The Philosophress made it through her trip without much emotional distress (aside from missing me...ha!) However, the mosquitoes decided to enjoy her visit to the fullest extent. Apparently the locals have dubbed the mosquito the State Bird. I’ll stop now and you can check for more details later.

No Commentary Necessary.

I am the only one to blame for this
Somehow it all ends up the same
Soaring on the wings of selfish pride
I flew too high and like Icarus I collide
With a world I try so hard to leave behind
To rid myself of all but love
To give and die

To turn away and not become
Another nail to pierce the skin of one who loved
More deeply than the oceans,
More abundant than the tears
Of a world embracing every heartache

Can I be the one to sacrifice?
Oh, grip the spear and watch the blood and the water flow



All said and done I stand alone
Amongst remains of a life I should not own
It takes all I am to believe
In the mercy that covers me

Did you really have to die for me?
All I am for all you are
'Cause what I need and what I believe are worlds apart

I look beyond the empty cross
Forgetting what my life has cost
And wipe away the crimson stains
And dull the nail that still remains
More and more I need you now,
I owe you more each passing hour
Battle between grace and pride
I gave up not so long ago
So steal my heart and take the pain,
And wash my feet and cleanse my pride
Take the selfish, take the weak,
And all the things I cannot hide
Take the beauty, take my tears
My sin-soaked heart - make it yours
Take my world all apart,
Take it now, take it now
And serve the ones that I despise
Speak the words I can't deny
Watch the world I used to love
Fall to dust and blow away



Worlds apart

Glee Club Hijinks

So this is an extremely belated story, but a humorous one nonetheless. The Philosophress and I went to go see the ND Glee Club perform when they were out in SoCal on a whirlwind tour. Their selections were enjoyable enough, except for the fact that the director was conducting some other orchestra in Carnegie Hall or something, so we had a stand-in. A little disappointing. Also quite humorous was my dad (seriously!) telling my little sister that if she went to ND, maybe she could sing in the Glee Club...(wait for it...and there it is!)

The Undertones are always good for a few laughs whenever they sing, and not just because they’re pathetic. Ok, so that’s not quite true, but I always had a problem with the type of guys who bragged about how much prettier they were than I, waiting for the women to agree and flock to them. One of these days I’ll seek professional help regarding this sort of bitterness.

Anyway, none of that was the point of the story, but merely the lead-in. The Undertones went through their usual sight gags and false starts, to the amusement of the non-young alum audience who aren’t familiar with their shtick. When they announced they were going to be singing “Mr. Brightside,” the lady sitting in front of us, in her mid-50s, clapped her hands together and exclaimed loudly, “Oh, I *love* The Killers!”


(I’ll let that sink in for a moment before I continue)


Yes, this woman (undoubtedly running up a little too much of a bar tab before the concert) was astounded and overjoyed that they were about to sing a Killers song. One would have thought they would have said, “We’ve decided to do a rousing number made popular by Jefferson Airplane,” or “You all probably know this ‘Earth, Wind and Fire’ hit” – but no, just a Top-40 song that probably got played at a ton of dorm parties sung by a bunch of college dudes.

Of course, this lady’s husband responded to her outcry with a swift elbow to the ribs, and The Philosophress looked at me with an expression that said, “You’d better not say anything out loud to that woman...but did I just hear what I thought I heard?”

The appropriate footnote to this anecdote: We intentionally downloaded Mr. Brightside on mp3, so that every time it comes on we can say “Oh, I *love* The Killers!” Try it sometime...it’s good for a laugh.

Weekend Recap

My deepest apologies for the scarcity of blog entries. Besides my own overactive guilt complex, I know that all three of you were upset for an entire 2.8 seconds every morning after checking my page to see the same old stuff.

Our weekend was an interesting one, complete with a broken-down refrigerator (“Quick! Someone needs to eat all this ice cream because it’ll be melted by morning!”), an invasion of ants (“Um, Honey, I know you didn’t want me to wake you this early, but there are ants swarming in the breakfast cereal”), and a trip out to Palm Springs to see the fam.

So The Philosophress and I, being over the legal drinking age and wanting to get out of the vacation house, went out for a drink with another one of my cousins. Family time is nice, but some culture and experiencing some desert night life and triple digit temperatures sounded like a good idea.

The first potential hotspot that we stumbled across was called the “Blue Guitar,” which billed itself as live music and no cover charge, so that immediately piqued my interest. We ended up spending our entire evening there (all 2 hours of it), and it brought about a few good stories, which of course I will share.

First, the band was pretty money. Good blues sound, four-piece band, with a black bass player with long dreds playing a 5-string bass, a black guitarist, some Hispanic/Italian drummer, and an overweight white guy with glasses and a ponytail on the organ. Apparently it was the drummer’s first time with the rest of the band, but they were taking one another’s cues quite nicely. The drummer was a pretty capable backup singer, and all of the other three guys sang various songs. My favorite was the organ guy was introducing a song, and someone bought him a shot, so right in the middle of talking about his song, he stops, says, "This just in!" holds up the shot glass...and down the hatch.

Of course, the sign of a good jazz/blues band is improvisation, which these guys had in spades. Nothing too crazy, just the audience yelling out requests between songs, one band member knowing the words/chords, telling the other guys to follow his lead, and off they go. The guitarist was doing the cool call-and-response thing, where the lead singer would scat sing, and would replay the notes on his guitar.

The audience was a pretty sweet mix as well...black/white, young/old, and our personal favorite, the token lesbian couple. Oh yes, this was like a train wreck...we knew it was tragic and wrong to stare, but we couldn’t help glancing over every few seconds. Well, that and the fact that they “happened” to be sitting at the table in the very front row, in the very middle. You know, not wanting to stand out or anything. When my cousin noted that one of them was ordering her beers four at a time, The Philosophress noted, “Maybe she needs some liquid courage to help her be a better lesbian!” They tried to steal the spotlight by conspicuously making out on the dance floor to “Georgia on My Mind” (just like the overly affectionate couple at your high school dances), but then other people started dancing around them, and their fifteen minutes was up.

By the way, grrrreat music selection by the band. Some Sly and the Family Stone, some Ray Charles, some instrumentals, some Aretha Franklin. Oh yes, apparently the wives of the band sing too...they came up and carried a couple songs and the dudes played along. Very sweet. Just a bunch of people (band and audience) coming together to enjoy some good music, dance with one another, and ignore racial, age (and even gender!) boundaries.

Oh yes, and my new favorite drink is a Sex on the Beach. Just picture me at the backyard barbeque, working the grill, applying some BBQ sauce to the burgers, meat fork in one hand......and a fruity drink with an umbrella in the other. Good times.

Good Times

For those of you who want to know what a winning wife sounds like, read the post below. Goodness gracious, she does her homework (or she has to listen to my daily rants, one or the other).

Couple reading recommendations for all you out there in TV-Land. Well actually, I guess I recommend because these books make sense for where I am, not necessarily where you are.

First is Wild at Heart. I read this in college, but now that life has taken its toll/reared its ugly head/displayed its sense of humor, I'm finding it more practical and true than ever. For any and all males who feel like they've done more wrong than right or have taken a journey that led to unexpected locales and don't know how to get back.

Secondly is a book called Boundaries. The Philosophress and I aren't finished with this one yet, but it's quite applicable to where we are. I'm sure there are those of you who can relate to needing to establish independence and navigate relationships with *ahem* certain family members. Much like Wild at Heart, this is more of a "discuss and progress along a continuum" subject, with many conversations ahead. So for those of you who I'll be seeing over the next couple months, you can ask how we're doing on these two journeys.

More (hopeful!) good news...the Little Little Sister is auditioning for a musical production of Narnia this weekend. I'm reeeeally excited for her, because (aside from watching her grow more mature) there's a pretty good chance that this is the sort of thing that makes her come alive. It's so much fun watching her start to discover her own passions...and to start becoming her own unique person rather than an miniature extension of what everyone else tells her to do.

I hope to have many more exciting details to report next week!

And now, I must wrap up this blogging and get back to listening to the soundtrack of the musical Wicked. This marriage thing, it's a give and take ;)