From Annatevka to Lynwood

From the "You Never Know, but Sometimes You Do When God Speaks to You through Weird Al Yankovic" files:

Many moons ago, I was chewing on a personal problem. As introverted teenagers are wont, I hadn't talked to anyone about it. But I did talk to God about it quite a bit. Kinda like Tevye from "Fiddler on the Roof," constantly, but quietly.

I talked about that problem for a long time. Sometimes it felt like the conversation was rather one-sided. And maybe I was doubtful a bit that God was listening, or that he cared all that much about the problem I was facing.

I was mulling the problem over again at work one day, using the saw to chew through some bricks. And if you've ever been around a brick saw, you know they're loud. But I had a lot of bricks to cut, as as my mind still does, it wandered from the problem to something else. A Weird Al Yankovic song began playing in my head.

And when Weird Al sang the lyric "You're not perfect, but I love you anyhow," it was as if I heard God's voice not in the thunder, not in the whirlwind, but in the brick saw and the lyric and for the first time in months, I felt happy.

That didn't bring an end to the problem. But it brought some much-needed comfort that to this day, at the right time, makes me tear up whenever I hear this song.

It's not the Tab Choir. It's not choruses of angels. It's God speaking to me through the voice of a man straight outta Lynwood.

Where are Moose und Svirrel?

For the first time in my life, and practically in my own back yard, I saw a flying squirrel.

We were camping with our Venture crew at Little Lemhi when we spotted it perched on one of our ropes.

I had no idea they lived in East Idaho, but apparently they do.

Michelle gets credit for the photo.

Seeing a critter in the wild is a neat thing. It was clear the squirrel wasn't bothered by us looking at it, which we did for about five minutes before it figured there was nothing to eat nearby. I imagine it came by later and found some of the potato bits we dropped on the ground as we were cooking dinner.

And I had no idea flying squirrels were native to Idaho, but apparently they are, giving us one of the largest ranges of the northern flying squirrel in the lower 48 states, per Wikipedia.

We have also seen moose in this area, which can mean only one thing:

"Bring in the Handcarts"

I have suffered, therefore everyone must suffer as I suffered.

Imagine members of the Willie and Martin handcart companies poncing around with that attitude.

But then those handcart morons brought it on themselves. They left too late. They let *one* bison spook their cattle and lost 30 of them. They believed in crap like divine intervention and other such nonsense.

Brigham Young's response was epic and put those slacking slackers in their place, all right.

“I will now give this people the subject and the text of the Elders who may speak to-day and during the conference. It is this. On the 5th day of October, 1856, many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains with handcarts, and probably many are now seven hundred miles from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to them. The text will be, ‘to get them here.’ I want the brethren who may speak to understand that their text is the people on the plains. And the subject matter for this community is to send for them and bring them in before winter set in.

“That is my religion; that is the dictation of the Holy Ghost that I possess. It is to save the people. This is the salvation I am now seeking for. To save our brethren that would be apt to perish, or suffer extremely, if we do not send them assistance.

“I shall call upon the Bishops this day. I shall not wait until tomorrow, nor until the next day, for 60 good mule teams and 112 or 15 wagons. I do not want to send oxen. I want good horse and mules. They are in this Territory, and we must have them. Also 12 tons of flour and 40 good teamsters, besides those that drive the teams. This is dividing my texts into heads. First, 40 good young men who know how to drive teams, to take charge of the teams that are now managed by men, women and children who know nothing about driving them. Second, 60 or 65 good spans of mules, or horses, with harness, whipple trees, neck yokes, stretchers, lead chains, &c. And thirdly, 24 thousand pounds of flour, which we have on hand. . . .

“I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the Celestial Kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains. And attend strictly to those things which we call temporal, or temporal duties. Otherwise, your faith will be in vain. The preaching you have heard will be in vain and you, and you will sink to Hell, unless you attend to the things we tell you. Any man or woman can reason this out in their own minds, without trouble. The Gospel has been already preached to those brethren and sisters now on the plains; they have believed and obeyed it, and are willing to do anything for salvation; they are doing all they can, and the Lord has done all that is required of Him to do, and has given us power to bring them in from the plains, and teach them the further things of the Kingdom of God, and prepare them to enter into the celestial kingdom of their Father. First and foremost is to secure our own salvation, and do right pertaining to ourselves, and then extend the hand of right to save others.”

Ad Blocked? Content FORBIDDEN.

So I run my browsers with an ad blocker. There are some sites I agree to whitelist, but in general the ad blocker is left to do its job.

Facebook, of late, has begun to be a little passive aggressive in dealing with this situation. While I don't know if this is just a new Facebook thing or if it's reacting to my blocker, I don't know. But here's what it's doing:

Facebook loves to throw a lot of sponsored stuff onto my feed. I'm sure I'm not alone. And while I scroll by most of it, occasionally I will linger and read/watch what's being offered because hey, sometimes the sponsored stuff actually works on me. But Facebook plays the video -- it's always a video -- and when it gets to the first (or sometimes second) ad that's part of the whole sponsored content package, it just says, "Well, you've got an ad blocker, so you do not only not get to finish watching this content, we're going to make it disappear from your whatever and then pretend like we never tried to show it to you in the first place."

I appreciate the chutzpah. Still won't whitelist.

Sure, they deserve to make money. But as I am a product for them to monetize, I don't feel bad taking miniscule amounts of ad revenue away from them. Or at least not making it possible for them to collect.

Kinda felt like arguing with this guy:

Oh, Look. *Another* Van.

So here's the newest addition to the family. Lexie is on the cusp of getting her license and is technically living in Pocatello right now relying on the good graces of others to get her around. So when Michelle saw this on 17th Street, we decided we'd better take a look.

At first we thought we'd lost it -- we were the first to look at it, but there was another family that had called first, so they got first dibs. They ended up passing for some reason.

It's at the mechanics right now getting a tune-up and a general look over. We did take it to them before we bought it and he figured it looked and sounded like a good deal. We'll see how it goes. We absolutely do NOT need another vehicle sitting in the driveway, but that's what we're looking at for the time being, until Lexie gets her license.

Finding a car during these "uncertain times" has been a real battle. Not too long ago when we were looking, the price range was about a thousand less than this and we were finding a lot of good cars. This time around, cars in that price range were all either being parted out or so junky or mechanically unsound they should probably be condemned. We got lucky with this one.

Finally, A Bit of Space

You may not be able to tell by looking at this photo, but I suddenly have more space to work with in the study.

Lexie left again for more school in Pocatello. She and Sam are staying in a campus apartment which meant, of course, they needed furniture. So I was quick to offer up the rocking chair that used to occupy this space in the study. (You'd think that meant a bedroom has been freed up, but we still keep that open for her and it's full of her stuff anyway, so there's no good wishing on that one yet.)

I still have no shortage of stuff in the study, to be sure. The treadmill is still there, as is the huge tub of denim destined to be turned into quilts. But with the rocker gone, empty space is once again winning in the room.

Don't have enough room on the shelves for the books -- that's an ongoing battle I may never win. But I do have more space in the closet to hang a few more shelves, and more importantly I can actually get to the bookshelves to maybe work on putting a few things away now. I won't be able to add too much more space, but it might be enough to get a few more books in there and more importantly not cover up the ones in the corners.

This *is* the Work Life I Want

“It’s not in your best interest to work at home,” says Malcolm Gladwell, per the New York Post. “I know it’s a hassle to come into the office, but if you’re just sitting in your pajamas in your bedroom, is that the work life you want to live?”

[Looks at self sitting in pajamas in my basement, able to do the same kind of work I did in a fabric-covered box out in the desert, while not having to get up at 4:30 am for a 75-minute commute by bus.]

Yes. This is the work life I want to live.

If Gladwell wants to work in an office -- and apparetnly he does, in a home-office steup in Hudson, New York -- that's fine by me. If he wants his employees in the office, that's fine by me too. However, he has no business making blanket statements on what is or is not in my best interest. He doesn't know me. He doesn't know my circumstances. He doesn't know that even when I was in the office, 90 percent of the work-related interactions I had with my co-workers were by phone or email. He doesn't know about me no longer having to get up at 4:30 am to catch a bus for a 75-minute commute on each end of a ten-hour workday.

He can speak for him and his. He doesn't get to make judgment calls for me.

I already give 40 hours a week to my job. Working from home has allowed me to give more time to myself and to my family. I'm no longer going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark when it's winter out. I'm happy. I have an office with a door and a window that occasionally entertains me with shenanigans from grasshoppers and cats chasing the grasshoppers.

And I still get my work done. I still fee like part of a team. I still am, in some ways, micromanaged even. Don't have to be at work for that.

Peak Adulting: Watching Someone Else's Weekend Project on YouTube and ENJOYING IT

 

So I watched this video the other day. And I'm watching it again right now as I type.

Rainman Ray does some quality videos of him tinkering, mostly on cars. He got me brave enough to change the cabin air filter in my Pilot, which is a good thing.

Watching this trailer deck replacement video was soothing. And cathartic. He did his work, admitted his mistakes, worked through difficulties and got the job done.

I might be a little jealous. I've got a lot of projects I want to get working on, but haven't been able to because weekends got gobbled up in other activities. Might get to tiling the kids' bathroom floor this weekend if I can get the underlayment put in on Friday. We'll see.

Update: This is actually the video I watched originally. BUT I ENJOYED BOTH OF THEM.

Way Too Late to the Movies: School of Rock

Today, for the first time, I watched 2003's School of Rock, starring Jack Black and Joan Cusack. I don't know where I was, exactly, that I let this one pass me by. Though I have to admit I wasn't really a fan of Black until I saw Jared Hess' Nacho Libre, so maybe retconning the whole Jack Black fandom is in order.

Because this was a terrific film.

While it clearly has that fish-out-of-water Dead Poets Society vibe to it, School of Rock is a lot less pretentious and preachy. No one has to die uselessly for his or her art and the lessons are more "find something you enjoy doing it, even if you're not all that good at it" than anything else.

I expected Black to be a lot more, well, Jack Black in this. But he approached the role of Dewey Finn with just enough understatement that the character remained a character, not a caricature. And I really enjoyed the fact that the conflict remained almost entirely in the kids' world of finding enjoyment in something unexpected, rather than in what typically might have happened: The stiff, boring adults come rushing in to destroy everything, only to have the kids triumph at the end.

Because despite the triumph of the encore, the kids don't win the contest they enter. We don't see a sudden revolution at the snooty private elementary school (do those even exist) where the stiffest of teachers and parents disappear while the rest of them all slide gracefully into Dewey's sphere of influence. This film is grounded in the reality that not everyone is going to want to stick it to The Man, and not because they are or personify The Man in any way. Those who are interested in rock 'n' roll find it and leave the squares to themselves.

And while we see Dewey figure out the stiff principal's Achilles heel in her (Joan Cusack's) penchant for getting drunk and singing Stevie Nicks tunes, the payoff in that knowledge is so understated we can believe that the world of the school and the world of the School of Rock have to fission -- which they would in the real world -- rather than seeing the snooty school go all rocky in the end. This was a fun film that put finding and honing talent in the real world, not in some unachievable fantasyland. That might be its greatest gift of all.

A Statistical Blip -- and A Blessing

NOAA tells me it rained 0.073 inches last night.

On the one hand, it's a statistical blip. When you're measuring amounts of rain that small, it seems hardly worth noting.

But the air this morning was glorious, from the smell of wet grass even to the smell of the damp patio concrete. And the puddle of accumulated water standing on the lid of my sprinkler parts box was a joy: The first accumulated rainfall since, geez, I don't know when.

And it means highs only in the mid 80s today, with more rain to come.

I prayed for rain. Have been asking for it for a few weeks now. So this little bit of rain must be celebrated. Yes, I'd love more. But we gotta take what we can get, and be grateful.