I'm a Believer

Geography increases my religiosity.  When I'm far from those I love, I yet feel connected to them.  This in turn prompts religious sentiment.  It seems I can feel my family's prayers/love/hope/faith (whatever you want to call it) as a physical thing.

I like science.  I read about science.  I especially enjoy physics and stuff about space.  I don't fully understand a lot of it, but it's cool.  So now and then some of the scientific stuff creates some confusion about how to interpret some of the religious stuff, and vice versa.

But you know what?  I just believe.  I can't really explain it and I don't think I have to.  What can I say?  I'm a believer.

Goal-Oriented or Anti-Social

So I go up to the hotel lounge to eat some eclairs and listen to the audio book of Guns, Germs, and Steel and this guy starts trying to talk to me. He's all like, "Hi, how are you?" and that sort of thing.  And I'm thinking, whoa there buddy, I have a 24 audio books-per-year goal that I'm behind on.

But do I say that?  No.  I'm all polite and stuff so I say hi back.  I even extend my hand for a shake and give my name!  Fatal error.  Never give your name to people with whom you do not want to converse.  Abort!

Too late because he's already like, "Bet you'll never guess where I live."  And then I go, "Wales?"  You know, 'cause he has an accent but I don't want to be all cliche and say London and, of course, I can't tell the difference between any of the accents over there anyway.

And then he goes, "Dallas, Texas!" and I'm all, "Wow, you got me" and he's all "I know, right?" And I'm thinking, when can I put in my earphones?

Then like a flash he's showing me photos of Petra and giving me advice about how to visit and giving me incorrect information about how far a walk it is and I don't want to tell him I've already been there and that I know he's exaggerating so I'm just nodding stupidly and stuffing eclairs into my mouth so I don't have to feel obligated to say anything.

I didn't listen to my audio book.  The eclairs were delicious.

Top 10 Songs That...

My blog and Facebook post frequency goes way up when I'm traveling.  I am presently compiling new playlists from my hotel room at the Amman Marriott.  I'm trying to come up with top 10 songs that are awesome when you imagine singing them to your kids but less so when you imagine singing them to your wife/girlfriend.  Top song on that list: "Hero" by Enrique Iglesias.

Also just discovered The Killers.  I don't know why it took me so long.  "Runaway" is, ahem, a killer song.

Apology to My Happy Band of Blog Readers

Just found out I had posted the last two videos as private. My bad. You should be able to watch them now.

First Game of the Season (Caleb)

My soccer coach used to get frustrated with me for slipping into "Tim's Playland" during games and not paying attention. So I had to include this first clip. Then there is some good action and a bit of nice defensive positioning. My kids might be natural fullbacks. Caleb had some good kicks but I did not get them on video.

First Game of the Season (Madeline)

I like the natural bounce as the ball approaches. I like the angle (some natural understanding of the game's geometry). Especially, I like the block. 

Politics Begins in the Home

First, I encounter the fact-checker:

7:25 am (10 minutes before school departure)

Tim, has Caleb eaten anything?

Define "anything."

Caleb, have you eaten anything?

Pants on Fire

Did you give them vitamins?

This week?

Pants on Fire

Is Caleb's swimsuit in his bag?

You didn't say which bag.

Pants on Fire!

Have you been reading The Wall Street Journal all morning?

What? No. Not all morning.

PANTS ON FIRE!

Then we review the broken promises.

Dad, remember when we were in Utah...

Buddy that was two years ago.

... remember when we were in Utah and you said I could have a pet.

Dad, you said you would read us Harry Potter tonight.

That was before you decided to stay up late playing Legos.

But dad, you said.

Dad, you said I could have chocolate milk.

That was before you had ice cream.

But dad, you said.

Henry Goes to School (and stuff)

My little buddy started school. The last one is out of the house. I'm a grown up (which realization is not wholly unrelated to my decision to go out for ice cream tonight).

Cairo American College, the school of my older two, instituted a new no-homework policy this year (which realization is causing significant helicopter trouble).