Michelin Man

We took advantage of morning snow in the Front Range and took Adrian on his first snowshoeing adventure. Good times.

Double Ought Nine

I'm not usually one to make New Year's resolutions. At least not out loud. But since I already resolved to post more on my blog this year, I thought a resolutions post would do well to fill some space.

Or maybe not resolutions, exactly. Resolutions sound so serious. Sin less, pray more, eat less ice-cream, stop wasting time on the Internet--that sort of thing.* Those serious things have their place and I do aspire to them, but I won't include them here since they violate the rather not-so-serious nature of this blog. So let's just say the things listed here are "aspirations"--at most--for the year.

• Bike more miles than last year. I won't say what I'm gunning for since some people (especially those who don't regularly bike) will undoubtedly find it a little obscene and wonder why I'm not using my time to do something more useful (like read to my son, or wash my car, or plant a garden, I suppose) --but I do have a number in mind. I also have an event in mind. I've once again shelled out the big bucks so I can suffer through the Triple Bypass.
• The sub-aspiration that goes along with the Triple Bypass is to get that nice skinny/bobble-headed biker looking going for me so that I can be faster and stronger--but I know that probably won't happen. But even so, I could probably stand to cut down on how many trips I make down the hall to the secretary's candy dish. I'd like to say one a day. But two sounds more reasonable.
• I'd also like to ride my bike more with other people. I rode alone way too much this year and discovered that I'm really not that good of company. I'm hoping to get a weekly tandem ride in with Jill and also to take a day to pull Adrian to the park in his bike trailer (I will be sorely disappointed if he doesn't like his bike trailer). If things go my way, I'd also like to find some fellas to MTB with most weeks (CL--are you listening?).
• Learn to like running. No, I'm not going to run a marathon this year. I pushed things a little too hard last month after spouting off my mouth here and ended up with very sore knees and ankles for about three weeks. More proof that I'm not a kid any more, I guess. But even so, I'd like to work a light jog (or lope) into my weekly exercise schedule.
• Grow a beard. Or at least try. I'll have to see if I can arrange a few weeks away from work so that I can pull it off, but I'm thinking that since my body is no longer putting much energy into growing hair on top of my head, it might have something extra to put into my face. Or maybe that's all going to my nose, ears, and eyebrows. Time will tell.
• Read a classic (or two). Maybe it's finally time to check "Crime and Punishment" off the list.
• Sweep the floors. Someday, I'll have to post on all the things that make me a lousy husband--my regular failure to sweep the floors would have to be on the list. I really hope to rectify that this year.
• Keep a budget. We kind of do this--but I want to be serious about it this year. Get software. Balance the check book. Refrain from buying something that's not in the budget or get stressed when we don't. The works.
• Call my grandmas more.
• Get a news magazine (Newsweek? Time? Any recommendations?) and read it regularly. I know next to nothing about what is going on in the world these days and am tired of faking it.
• Go to a play. I like Shakespeare--and I'm not just saying that. I think it's time to check out another production of the Bard's work. Then I can quote him in sermons and people will think I'm both up to date on current events and cultured. Won't I be impressive?
• Floss. I won't say daily (let's be reasonable here!). But enough so that my dental hygienist doesn't scold me after my next appointment. I just can't stand her scorn any longer.
• Drink less coffee more. What's reasonable? Seven, eight cups a day?
• Find a babysitter we can trust (and not feel guilty about asking). Use this babysitter to go on occasional non-church related dates with my wife.
• Go camping more than last year. That means go camping some. And even if we don't camp, spend more Mondays (my day off) in the mountains with Jill and Adrian. One of those Mondays, I'd like to climb another 14er.

That's probably more than enough--any more and I'll start to sound like Ben Franklin. And besides, there's coffee brewing here that needs drinking, apple crisp that needs eating.

I'll report back in ought ten and see how I did.

*(Good thing I proof read sometimes--I had those first two switched around for a moment making it sound like I aspire to pray less and sin more.)

Blue Shoe

Author's note: Like thousands (millions?) of other bloggers, I'm resolving to update my blog more this year. Seriously. The goal, however, is more about quantity than quality--which means I may be posting random thoughts throughout the day or, quick snapshots of my son, or today, a book review. Today's review is a book by Anne Lamott-a book Jill claims I read a couple of years ago but one that I had (apparently) completely forgotten. This is one of the reasons I want to write about what I read--so that I may actually remember it. Anyway, as always, skip if you're not interested. I won't be offended. Or at least I'll pretend not to be.

_______________

Eight years ago, I sat in the bleachers of the Calvin College Gym and listened to a middle-aged woman with dread-locks, a sense of humor as dry as a corn husk in October (as she might have said), and a voice that sounded like a bad imitation of a sixties stoner, tell a story about a recent flight where she was given a seat between a small Pakistani woman and a Christian man fingering a cross and reading a Left Behind novel. Like nearly everybody else in the packed gymnasium, I laughed--really, really hard. Of course, having finished that author's recent set of memoirs (Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies) I expected nothing less.

A year ago, Jill and I leaned against the back wall of a packed book store and listened to this same woman tell another story. I don't remember exactly what that one was about--but I remember that there were more than a few jabs at the current political administration. I also remember being disappointed that night--I laughed a lot less than I had eight years before. On the train ride home, Jill and I commented that Lamott had crossed a line somewhere. It's not that we were such huge fans of the Bush administration and were offended. It was more that her voice was no longer funny. It was just bitter. And annoying. Of course, having just read her most recent set of memoirs (both Plan B and Grace (Eventually)), I should have expected nothing less (or nothing more).

With both of those experiences in mind, I picked up Lamott's novel, Blue Shoe, byat the library this week with a sense of guarded optimism. Which Lamott would I be getting? The Lamott who could make an audience laugh until they teared up just before making them murmur with appreciation for her insight? Or the bitter, angry Lamott who would leave audiences rolling their eyes and murmuring about what she once was?

Much to my delight, Blue Shoe, was the old Lamott. Lamott shows genuine insight into a woman who is dealing with an aging mother, crumbling relationships, and growing children. Like much of Lamott's work, she has wonderful one liners and a way of expressing--with honesty and humor--what real people think (or real people really want to think). As in Traveling Mercies, Lamott's voice comes through clearly--and for the most part, is a joy to read. This is probably the book's greatest strength.

This great strength, however, might also be perceived as Lamott's greatest weakness. It just sounds so much like, well, her. While reading the book, I had the image of Lamott sitting across the table and saying, Well, I have this "friend" I'd like to tell you about...I wondered, were these just more stories about Lamott--another set of memoirs--thinly cloaked as a novel? How much was coming out of her imagination--and how much was coming straight from her life?

I suppose that's a silly criticism. Good authors write what they know (or so I'm told). No matter where this story came from, Lamott makes wonderful observations of human character and has a great way of describing the ordinary moments of our lives. But even so, there's just a part of me that wants to think that Lamott is capable of coming up with something different--that she can imagine into being a world that is not her own (more like Marylin Robinson, for example).

Regardless--this is a worthwhile read. If you've never read anything by Lamott, check this one out(and Traveling Mercies). I think you'll enjoy it.

First Christmas

Thought I'd throw up (maybe I should just say "post") some video of Adrian's first Christmas with us. Enjoy! Time to pack my bags!


Christmas 08 from Joel Schreurs on Vimeo.

Thanksgiving Video

Yep, just in time for the New Year, it's a video of Adrian from Thanksgiving weekend.
He has, of course, changed a lot in the last month. But I still get a kick out of watching his little tricks (it could be that I haven't seen him in a few days--be still my beating heart). My favorite is the way he chases his toy, Daisy, and us in his walker. He's much better at it now than a month ago--but still running into walls a lot.


Thanksgiving Weekend from Joel Schreurs on Vimeo.

Keep Yer Nose Clean

It's occurred to me recently that I'm getting older.

Of course, that's true for all of us. Time, like an ever rolling stream, bears all its sons away--and all that. Most days, we overlook it. Yet there are certain moments in a person's life when the truth--I am no longer as young as I once was--becomes inescapably evident. Consider some examples:

• I've gotten into the habit of ordering Diet Coke whenever Jill and I go out to eat (which isn't often).
• I can no longer eat Starbucks Cappuccino Chip ice cream after, say, 7pm* and expect a decent night of sleep. (Although I've had to cut back on ice cream in general lately--for the same reason I've taken to ordering Diet Coke--I'm old, but not quite old enough for comfort fit pants.)
• This morning, when I had the chance to sleep in, I had the coffee pot going at 6:03--a half hour after I woke up.
• While writing a sermon a while back, I wanted to make a pop culture reference to a movie that came out just a few years ago (Enemy of the State)--you know, back when I was in high school (or was it the beginning of college?). When I looked up the release date for the movie, I was rather shocked to discover that it was over ten years old. Needless to say, the reference was completely lost on my high school students (They are equally clueless about any reference to Ferris Bueller's Day Off (Bueller? Bueller?) and Seinfeld. I tell you--kids these days).
• Speaking of high school kids--I've also caught myself saying the following to them: When I was your age (insert story of hardship and suffering here)...These anecdotes are, without fail, met with blank looks and eye rolls.
• Last week when I got my haircut, I noticed that the woman who was to do the deed is no longer shy about asking if I need my eyebrows trimmed. (The answer, of course, is yes.)
• Did I mention I have a child of my own?

I think my case is already quiet solid. I am getting old. But in case there's any doubt, I submit one more piece of evidence--Christmas.

The youngsters these days are asking for all sorts of fun toys. Wiis. Wizbangers. Watchyamakallits. And who knows what else. Of course, when I was a boy I only got sticks and dirt for Christmas. But never mind that. This year, I got a nose hair trimmer.

That's not what it's called on the package, of course. On the package, it's called a "personal groomer" and there's a picture of a man trimming his sideburns. Nothing old about that. But we all know the truth. It's not just for sideburns. It's for nose hair. Okay, and ear hair. And neck hair. And maybe upper back hair. But mainly nose hair.

I suppose there might be some who would be offended to receive such a gift from their spouse. After all, it could be argued that it's not a lot different than a man who gives his wife a Thigh Master. Here you go, honey--I just want to make sure you're not letting yourself go. And while I'm at it, here's some Fen Phen and a six pack of Slim Fast. Yes, some might try to read in a not-so-subtle critique into such a gift. But not me.

I ripped open the package, went straight to the bathroom, and declared war on those nose hairs. And it was even better than I had hoped. There were no cries of agony or tears of anguish (as I experienced when I would try to pull out my those pesky nose hairs with a tweezers--something I'm pretty sure they don't even allow in Gitmo). Instead, there were only shrieks of delight, tears of joy. I was thrilled. Absolutely elated. Because I had gotten exactly what I asked for.

You see, I know that I'm getting older. I realize that my hair is migrating to strange (and useless!) places. But hey--I'm not that old. I have not yet let go of all my vanity. I have not quite accepted fuzzy ears and sprouting nostrils as inevitable. I'm still young enough that I want to keep my nose clean.** And now--thanks to Jill--I can!

*This is further proof that I'm old--but not that old. Certain parents of mine can't eat it after noon.

**I've found this to be especially important for taller folks like myself. You never know who is looking up there!

***PS: That is not a picture of my nose. It was bad, but not that bad.

Adrian UnCut

I've been meaning to get some Adrian vidoe up for the past three weeks but editing has been a little slow (I really need to retire). So to appease the Grandmas, here's some video of Adrian eating (and not eating) his supper. Note the tongue action--a new discovery it seems. Feel free to skip ahead as you desire.


Adrian Uncut from Joel Schreurs on Vimeo.