Comfortable Chaos

Organization is the key. Knowing where things are. Knowing what needs to be done, having a list, having a plan. Otherwise, I am lost, distracted, shunted away into meaningless, trivial activity that ends up sapping me of my time, energy, drive, focus and emotional fortitude. Then in the end, what really needs doing, remains undone, or worse, is shabbily thrown together in urgent haste.

I must attack the piles of paper with fervor. I must open the mail, sort, file, plan and prioritize. I must open my calendar, schedule, coordinate, plan and update. Then I need to simplify, eliminating what does not need doing, focusing on what really matters. Finally, I need to put everything in its own place where it belongs, organized and tidy, trashing the rest.

Then armed with my updated list and calendar, with my life neatly tucked in place, I must continue to keep up to date. To fall behind is to invite chaos again. Chaos is not what I want. Chaos is not useful or helpful.

Sigh. Why does it seem so unnatural for me to be organized? Chaos may not be useful, but it sure is comfortable. Oh, well.

Turkey Day Football

I like football. I always have. I like it for the same reason I like bull fighting. For its full out uncompromising fearless physicality. But for two other reasons as well. The opportunity for the expression of extraordinary athleticism and for the complex intellectual challenge of the game.

This game has in it something for every man. For the brute, raw strength, shear power and fearsome might. For the elite athlete, speed, agility and quickness that inspires awe. For the thinker, plans, strategies and calculations that demolish all opposition. And for everyone, an intangible heart that overcomes adversity, determination and guts that transcends overwhelming odds, to accomplish unforgettable greatness.

And complicated it is. Full of rich nuances and depth. It takes many years to learn the game, and many more years to appreciate it. My wife as a student of the game has come a long way over the years. She has been a reluctant learner and has only picked up what she has because she has been with me when I watch. She is an educated spectator now, better than average I would say. Granted, she may not know the best time to go for, or not go for, an on-side kick, or for that matter, she may not know what an on-side kick is, but, she does know a lot.

On Thanksgiving Day this year, I got to play football. Yah, of coarse I got to watch the Lions play, just like they have on Thanksgiving since the Pilgrims came over. But this year I actually got to play football myself, not just watch. Cindie and I were with Matt and Alexa at her folk's house with their family and they do this Kennedy type football playing tradition, so we played football. It was fun.

I like football. I always have. But I hardly have ever played football. Not because I have not wanted to. I would have loved to. But my feet point in funny directions and I fall down at times when I am not supposed to. I do not run fast, in fact, I do not do anything fast. I cannot make split second decisions, I usually need a minute or two before I decide and by then, I have been tackled. I was one of those geeks that was always picked last when the kids chose teams. No joke! I was absolutely picked last every time. So I always watched football, I never played.

But this year I got to play football. And as I said, it was fun. Fifty years old and now I am a football player. Oh yah, I threw passes, caught passes, ran with the ball, blocked, tackled (touched, actually), I even got a touchdown! It was cool.

Now it is the next day. I am moving slow. Lots of different things hurt. I will not bore you with a list of my anatomy by mentioning the parts that are hurting today. It might take less time if I mentioned the parts that are not hurting. I do not think there is any lasting damage. I also do not think I will be playing football on a regular basis.

I will be going hunting this next weekend. That will probably make things hurt too. It usually does. I wonder if it will make the same things hurt that football did or if there are different things that hurt when you hunt. Or maybe there are overlapping hurt things. Well I guess I will find out. Hunting is not a spectator sport.

Do They Come In Pink?

Matt is home for holiday break. It is nice to have him around. He stayed up all night working on my computer on a project for his upcoming wedding. When the creative juices are flowing what does a little sleep matter?

I hope we get a chance to do one or two things together this week. Like shoot our guns. Deer season opens in less than two weeks and we could sight in our guns and get our stuff all packed and ready to go. We are all charged up and excited this year again as we are every year. My son-in-law Evan called last night. He was on-line getting his tag. The three of us will be out once again one week from this Saturday. The deer should fear.

Alexa is back in Ames doing her regular job. She is coming out later this week. It looks to me like if we want her to do more work around the farm, then we are going to need to get her a better fitting pair of coveralls. I know! I was trying to think of what to get her for a wedding present, what a great idea! Don't tell her what I am getting her, now, it is our little secret, OK? I wonder if they come in pink. I bet her mom would know, I will ask her.

Happy hunting.

This Is Way Too Cool!

I found a wonderfully entertaining computer marvel that I just had to share with you. I was sitting at my computer terminal, Cindie was sitting with her laptop, and we were surfing the Internet together for fuel economy automobiles. Cindie is really into fuel economy.

I actually wanted to look at a Mini Cooper. Then I found out the nearest dealer is 210 miles away and that makes a Mini Cooper impossible. Boohoo. I was still dejected over that when Cindie read me some stuff from Consumer Reports about "hybrid cars." I had not heard about these things. I asked her how she knew about them. She said, "Well, I guess I just keep up on fuel economy things." I believe that. She is phenomenal about anything to do with saving money.

So, she turned me on to the Toyota Prius web site. I was checking it out and actually was quite impressed by a combination gasoline engine electric motor car that gets 55 miles per gallon. It is somewhat stylish looking too and not very pricey either.

Well, here is the fun part. I am looking this thing over, going through this nice flashy web site, and I get this 3D Toyota Prius jump out on my computer, and I can play with it. I mean, I can turn it around, flip it over, make it go far away, make it get close, spin it around, literally manipulate it in any way I want to all over my computer screen.

I am having a blast. It is a crack up! I am laughing and giggling and just rolling and Cindie is going, "What?!" I tell her, "You have got to pull this up and play with it yourself!" She didn't. Oh well. Maybe she had fun watching me have fun.

Anyway, you have got to go and try this out yourself. Click on the link, then after the page finishes loading, and the intro finishes playing, click on the button on the right that says SUPERVIEW. Then click and drag to your heart's content and just tell me if this is not just the coolest thing since sliced bread.

So here it is: The coolest thing since sliced bread.

Click the SUPERVIEW button on the right when you get there.

"$20 For Your Opinion"

"We call unsolicited promotional material in our mailbox junk mail and in our email spam. What do we call this stuff when it gets to us by fax machine? These "junk" faxes come to my office all the time and are constantly cluttering up my in-box mixed up with ..."

Gotta Love Those Smiles

Happy donkey. Happy girl. Kristi and Griffin July 2002.

"Life On Life's Terms"

"I was driving home one day when I spied black smoke crawling into the cold sky near where I live. It was a thick, heavy, dark smoke with an ominous and dangerous look to it. It curled in a way that looked as if the fire had just started. I was ..."

Dog Reasons

The canine critter grows, as you can see. I finally took some more mature poses. The baby puppy pictures are still the cutest ever though, but I think our Miss Money Penny Boxer will be handsome and appealing at any age.

What is the fascination of dogs to us? We put so much effort and energy into having and keeping a dog. Or dogs I should say, sorry Bo. I never had a dog growing up. In fact, my children went with me to help me bring home my first dog.

So why am I now on my seventh dog? Like everything else in life, the reason is not simple, but comes in parts. One part has to do with kids, dogs, growing up, life lessons, things to teach and things to learn and there is stuff you get that you can only get from a dog. See "Jubilee"

Then there is the dog and being on a farm thing. You cannot live in the country and not have a dog. They totally own the place. They let you know when visitors arrive, they keep the badgers away and the deer out of the garden and keep the geese from crapping on the porch, and they show you around when you go for a walk.

That relates sort of to the companionship part. Dogs keep you company. They follow you, watch you and always want to be with you. You really have to work hard at feeling lonely with a dog hanging around. The bonus of having a companion such as a dog is that a devoted dog will protect you. You are safer with a dog.

There must be other reasons we have dogs, but these are pretty good ones. Oh, I almost forgot the best reasons of all for why we have dogs. Gingerbread Wolff, Brandywine, Butterscotch Sundae, Jubilee Goldenpaws, Chancellor, Bojangles, "Bella the Nose" Bellafonte, Marsical Mae and Miss Money Penny herself, to name a few. Yea, we must just be dog people.

I Just Destroyed Your Car

It was one of those proverbial surreal moments. You know what I am talking about, where time seems to go in slow motion and you can play everything back in your mind over and over again a hundred times, like it is burned into some kind of cerebral Tivo in your head.

I am driving along at night, in slow motion, alone, in my wife's white Buick Park Avenue, when suddenly, in slow motion, the biggest, hugest, most monstrous enormous deer I have ever seen in my entire life, runs in slow motion right in front of me. I mean totally right in front of me. Not a little to the side where I can do a little swervy kind of dodgy kind of thing. No, totally smack square centered perfectly lined up right in front of me all stretched out completely ready to be slammed to heck.

Since this is all happening in slow motion I had some time to consider my options. I considered my options to the right. A herd of genetically mutant giant deer was blocking any possible escape I might have taken via the shoulder of the road. I considered my options to the left. Bright headlights were approaching from oncoming traffic. No escape that way. It seems my only option is to stay the coarse and plow straight ahead in slow motion. I take action. I forcefully applied my antilock brakes and hope for the best. From that moment of decision on, I was a helpless spectator of the outcome of this unfortunate chain of events.

Just before the moment of impact, I could say that the deer honestly looked surprised. One of those wide-eyed buggy-eyed looks of utter disbelief that you absolutely cannot believe that you are about to be squished. You know, it has to be a shock. Everything is going along peachy, then, BAM! SLAM! Out of nowhere, where did that come from? What just hit me?

There was this slow motion sickening thud as the deer sort of either was sucked into the grill of the car or disappeared into the grill or got smashed temporarily into obliteration, I do not know. Then it popped back out, a lot like a cue ball off of a cue stick, and went flying and skittering and sliding, tumbling ahead of me across the road through the grass angling over onto the shoulder, disappearing over the edge of the embankment sliding into the ditch out of sight.

I simply pulled off onto the shoulder. The first thing I noticed was that things were not going in slow motion anymore. Then I noticed that the hood of the car was all crumpled up and there was an ominous hissing sound and steam coming up. Ouch! I turned the engine off. I am thinking five figures. I take stock. My heart is pounding and I have forgotten to breath. After reminding myself about the benefits of breathing and focusing on some calming type of thoughts, I start feeling a little better.

I pull out my cell phone and give Cindie a jingle. She answers. I say, "hi, I'm sorry, but I just destroyed your car." I hear the sudden gasping sucking intake of air. She has forgotten to breath too. After she starts breathing again, I explain about Godzilla the deer and about how there was nothing I could do, and she says she is glad that I am OK and all and that she will come and pick me up.

Then I get out and go back to examine the remains. Whoa! On closer inspection, this Bambi twin does not look so big. In fact, there does not seem to be any way this peewee deer-child could have just destroyed my car. What gives here? Optical illusion? Trick of the mind? Apparently, time is not the only thing that can become distorted.

I patiently wait for my ride home. Twenty-one years of nighttime driving on deer infested highways, and I have never collided with a deer until now. What incredible good fortune. But why now? Why tonight, on this road, at this place, at this time and with this deer? Basically, a collision with a deer is a random encounter. Deer do not stand on highways waiting for vehicles to come along. They cross highways. Hitting this deer was a highly coordinated precision maneuver requiring split second timing. If either one of us had been just a fraction of a second too early or too late then it would have been a clean miss.

So, when these things happen in life is it just random bad luck? Or is there some cosmic force orchestrating these encounters for some grand purpose or greater scheme? Or is it mathematical probability pure and simple with no associated meaning? We just do not know do we?

In the end, I think I have been the unwitting victim of deer seasonal affective disorder, otherwise known as D-SAD. This little sad deer, I believe, was simply just depressed. Not being able to bear it any longer, he became a kamikaze deer and committed deer suicide under the hood of my Buick. Yes, very sad.

Hogwash! The little bastard just was not watching where he was going. Look both ways before crossing and all that crap. But, what can you do? I hope I get another twenty-one years before another one pops in front of me.

Wedding Gauntlet

Alexa, betrothed to my son, nuptials scheduled just mere weeks away, is poised to contend with three wedding showers in two days this weekend. The modern American wedding seems to be a gauntlet of expectations and activities for the bride, her family and their bank accounts, of a sort that rivals the demands and stresses of even the most dogged of election campaigns.

When all is finished said and done, everything will be perfect, wonderful and just as it should be, I have absolutely no doubts. In fact, Alexa is utterly amazing at this stuff. She has a sense of style, good taste and a capacity to clearly visualize the result she wants, coupled with exceptional organizing and planning abilities and a capability to achieve her desired results it in a cool, sophisticated and calm manner.

Are weddings stressful affairs? I think so. Are they trials by fire? They may be. However, I have a hunch that Alexa's wedding is going to be one elegant and awesome event. Pulling that off is a hard thing to do, but Alexa is rather exceptional. Maybe I am biased, but that does not mean it is not true.

I bet she would run an awesome political campaign too. Absolutely!

Unusual Spots & Limits

Part of surviving in this world is being able to make accurate judgments about people with limited information. Most people can do this surprisingly well without knowing that they are doing it or even giving it a second thought.

Is that person safe or dangerous? Is this one sincere or holding something back? Is she right or is she wrong? Do I trust this person now or not? Am I being played or is this for real? Is there more than meets the eye? What is really going on here? Do I like this?

Instantly we reflect, decide and then act on our judgments, and that is how we all exist and survive in the very social world we find ourselves. At the basic level, it is how we survive to avoid life-threatening danger. "He looks like a knife-stabbing serial-killing rapist, I don't think I'm going to go out with him."

On a deeper level, it is how we always interact with other people in every relationship. It works because we are very good at this judgment game. Surprisingly good.

There is a fun exercise related to this which maybe you have engaged in. That is classifying people into categories. I like it sometimes because although it is contrived, it serves to help one simplify how to think about the world. It goes like this.

"There are two kind of people in the world. The type A person and the type B person." You fill in the blanks. For example, you could say, "There are two kinds of people in the world, dog people, and people that are not dog people." Then you could define your category. "You can tell if a person is a dog person because when you walk into their house you can find unusual spots on the furniture and carpet in random locations." You get the idea.

I have always simplified my thinking of the world by putting people into two categories. Those that live life frantically busy, trying to do as much as they can with the limited time they have, with the goal being results and production, quantity and numbers, because in the end they expect to be judged for what they accomplished. They focus on the overwhelming amount of work there is to do in the world. They are always aware that a lifetime is not enough time to get all of it done, so they tend to always be frantic, anxious and never satisfied.

Then there are the rest. It does not matter what the rest are living their life for, just that it is not about frantic production. Perhaps I might imagine the ideal opposite of my other category would be the type of person who just lives life for what it is that they do. They focus on quality and quantity only as it relates to getting more quality. This type of person is much more likely to find satisfaction richness in life.

I have found my natural tendency is to be a person in the first category; the frantic save the world type. I strive to find a way to become like a second category type person. Jesus was in the second category, you know. He said a remarkable thing at the end of his life. His prayer recorded in John 17:4 said, "I have...[completed] the work you gave me to do."

I have to ask myself, if Jesus felt this way in a world of enormous unmet needs, why do I always feel as if there is too little time and too much to do? Why do I feel chronically pressured? Why do I never feel finished meeting needs?

An interesting principle has invaded my thinking from a book I am reading "The Emotionally Healthy Church"; I have mentioned it before. The principle is the idea that limits are a gift from the hand of God. That is the key. People in the first category see limits as obstacles to overcome. People in the second category see limits as a gift, defining our true purpose, setting up true boundaries, relieving us of unnecessary tension and guilt.

I must ponder this idea of limits as gifts more. It seems to me that it can be profoundly life enriching.

And yes, we do have those odd random spots here and there in our house. Dog people know what I mean. You just cannot get them completely out. What can you do? We are just dog people. And there are limits.

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Only her hairdresser knows for sure.

Was It The Puppy?

My wife looked stunning last night. Moreover, it is not just I saying it. I have never been anywhere where so many people were so effusively complimentary toward Cindie and how she looked. I should not say I was surprised, that makes me look like a heel, but I had to take notice, they were right, she was an exquisite knockout.

Cindie does not seek attention. I do not know if she is uncomfortable or embarrassed or if she just really does not need it. Do not get me wrong, she likes to look as nice as the next guy but she is not out to grab center stage. Especially at the "Gala Ball" where we went last night where it was "Black Tie Optional." Nevertheless, she sure was the looker this year.

As you can imagine, the Gala Ball fundraiser "Black Tie Optional" event is the annual excuse in our neck of the woods for the rich and the famous to pull out all of the stops and deck out. Let me tell you, there were plenty of eyes popping out, wait a minute let me find them and put them back in moments.

Not with me, of coarse, I did not lose my eyes once. There might have been a moment or two when I almost had to slap my hands over my face, however, to avoid the embarrassing eye popping out problem, but only because I was taken off guard.

I spent most of my time enjoying the admiration Cindie received from other guests, and there was plenty of it, and stealing my own moments of looking her over and appreciating her striking beauty. I was reminded last night that there are two ways to perceive beauty, through your own eyes, obviously, as the saying goes, but also through the eyes of others. That is how you see things you might never see own your own.

I used to think that we put our great art in museums so that everyone can enjoy it and appreciate it, and certainly that is the reason. But there might be another reason. I think we get something extra from the art we see from the other people that see the same art.

After last night, I think people might stage Black Tie Optional Gala Ball events for the same kind of reason. Of coarse we can appreciate each other, admire each other, and see each other day in and day out. Then the day comes when we get all decked out for other people to see us. We see each other through the eyes of someone else, in a new, fresh and wonderful way. Then it is better and we get something extra.

You know, I am definitely not talking about jealousy here. I am talking about the genuine sincere admiration for the beauty of a person. Last night Cindie was very pleasing and impressive to look at, good-looking and supremely lovely. She was gorgeous, magnificent and radiant. Moreover, it was not just I saying it.

You know what this means now? I am going to have to take some dance lessons and get a Tux. Yup, no two ways about it. Cindie has raised the bar and I cannot be left in the dust. What is it about turning fifty? Is this a second life? Whoa boy, I should have never bought her that puppy.

Carnivore Candy Store

Our cute cuddly furry warm ball of puppy niceness is turning into the mean lean meat-eating machine she is destined to be. See "Munching on the Duck" to see what I am talking about. Do not get me wrong; we are not raising "Cujo" here. Our beautiful Boxer dog is still the sweetest cutest thing this side of the Milky Way. It is just that where we live there is too much doggy temptation. You could say that we live at the candy store for the carnivore.

Let me explain. Our place is on ten acres and in addition to dogs we raise lots of feathered two-legged winged animal types, chickens, ducks, geese, guineas, peacocks and the like. Our older dogs are entirely indifferent to our birds. On a walk, to them, it is as if they are invisible. How can this be you might ask? They were trained. Now it is time for our young Boxer to undergo her training.

The method is time honored, quick, effective and humane (relatively). We use psychology, the famous conditioned response, you know, from the dogs of Pavlov. But we will use a negative reinforcer, in the form of an effective, but harmless (relatively), electric shock. Every time the subject does something that is undesirable, you apply the humane (relatively) harmless (relatively) jolt of electricity until they are convinced that they not longer wish to engage in that choice. Choices and consequences, free will is wonderful, is it not? This is just like playing god (relatively).

The device that makes this all work is known as the shock collar. We borrowed one; now let the trainings begin. Cindie went out for the first lesson Tuesday. It did not work. She thought the battery might be too low, so we charged it up overnight. Now it is my turn. First lesson is with me, yesterday, on Wednesday.

Fully charged, I soberly place the teaching device around our unsuspecting young pups tender neck. I carefully check it for the correct fit and alignment. I briefly wonder about testing, but of coarse you cannot. That would diminish the power of the method. The painful stimulus (relatively) must ONLY come at the PRECISE moment of the undesired behavior; otherwise, you cause only confusion and prolong the entire process.

It crossed my mind for a moment that I could test the device on myself to see if it was working. HA! Yah, right! YOU do it!

Out we go, ready for the lesson. The day is like any other. Our happy-go-lucky puppy dog frolics in the grass and romps in the scattered fallen autumn leaves. I with sweaty palms know, however, that today is the day that our little doggy grows up. Today the harsh pain of discipline will strike her down and she will no longer be innocent. Then it happens. She spies a waddling duck in the distance and off she goes.

I pull out my control device, adjust the dial, suck in my breath as my finger hovers just above the red button. This is no time for a parent to be squeamish; I push. I brace for the squeal of pain, but nothing happens. I watch in dismay as the duck is accosted.

Now I begin to frantically twist dials, push buttons, shaking and banging the controller, pointing and pushing, all the while my innocent puppy dog is running to and fro grabbing ducks and peacocks in a blur of squawking flapping feathers and flying chaos. In the end, she is huffing and puffing, nearly out of breath. One goose is left in sight, which she has cornered. It is putting on a good bluff, wings spread wide, head held low, hissing with menace. However, she does not look impressed. She is ready to pounce and finish it off.

There I stand in the middle of it all. By this time, my fingers are sore from all of the pushing and poking of buttons and dials and I have given up since I have tried everything I can think of to make the stupid thing work. What makes me the most peeved is that my lack of action today, from the dog's point of view, has amounted to tacit approval for this behavior. This is not the lesson I intended to teach.

I saved the goose and we trudged back to the house. My puppy well exercised and I defeated. As I was reflecting on what to do next, it occurred to me that there must be some instructions that came with this thing. Mental note, look for instructions. I took the collar off after we got back inside and as I was plugging it back into the charger, I noticed something. I looked closer. There was a little grey thing. "What is this," I wonder. I push the little grey thing with one of my sore fingers. The collar makes a "beep-beep" sound and a little red light comes on. I sigh. "Hmmm." I push the red button on the controller. The collar makes a low-pitched, but menacing (relatively), buzzing sound. Well how about that. You have to turn the collar on.

I tell Cindie what I discovered. She did not know about the little grey button either. It makes perfect sense now. Why did we not think that it needed to be turned on? Two doctors cannot figure out that it needed to be turned on. I mean that is almost as bad as "My computer is not working." "Have you plugged it in?" "Oh, yah, that's it! Thanks!"

I would like to think that it is because we are compassionate people. The fact that we are about to strap an instrument of torture (relatively) around the neck of our helpless dependent pet clouds our judgment, I think. Maybe not, kind of a stretch? I do not know. Anyway, I expect that next time, the ducks will finally get their reprieve.

An Amazing Man

My son is preparing to wed. His future bride is a remarkable woman, which is no surprise considering that Matthew comes from a family of remarkable women and would be expected to select a bride of like caliber. I saw my son this past weekend. He is completing his studies in literature at Iowa State University. I am proud of him, and even a little envious. He is talented and capable.

My son is an amazing man. He is fierce and imposing, compelling and influential. He is not one to blend inconspicuously into his environment. He is noticed. He is liked. He is charismatic.

My son is known to embrace extremes. With dogged determination he pursues interests, arguments and projects with a drive and focus that is relentless, often achieving fantastic results. Occasionally, he will tend toward indifference, but it is rare. One thing Matthew never is is uninteresting.

My son is one of the most intriguing, fascinating, entertaining, challenging and complex individuals I know. He is fun and enjoyable, intense and exasperating, and never dull. His thoughts run deep. His emotions run deeper. He is one who must be considered. He is one not easily dismissed.

My son has lofty goals. Many are those who would expound goals beyond their reach. With him, I believe, his goals are within his grasp. He indeed has it within him to accomplish that which he intends to obtain. However, make NO mistake. This is not requisite paternal platitude speaking. It is my fervent belief that my son has what it takes to accomplish his goals and I fully expect him to see them come to fruition.

And so, my amazing son, take your beautiful bride and go together on that grand adventure given to you by your maker. Fight the fight, take the risks, hold nothing back until you fall into his arms at the end.

I am your father, my son, and I love you passionately. I have watched you since your beginning. Who better to know? You have what it takes. Now go.