Amidst the chaos of boxes our lives are starting to come together again. The mess still swirls around us, but it’s gradually gravitating toward order. Boxes are moved, emptied, and moved again. Lost things are found; and many more things are lost. As the week comes to a close I feel time pushing me to put the last pieces together. If I don’t get enough done by Monday the hard reality of normal life will rush in and overthrow my ambition.

The whole thing is just like being sucked up and spat back out by a giant wormhole — except for the back breaking work it took to get here from there.

How hard is it to be a reluctant blogger when you’re busy packing?

Not hard at all

I don’t mind moving. I just hate the packing. This is why I’ve been at it for something like 9 weeks. Most of all I hate the last couple of days. I think it’s because things like this happen…

1. Pack every book in the house into 6 tightly fit symmetric boxes.
2. All of the toys go in their own bins.
3. Kitchen stuff… Wait I can’t pack that yet I gotta cook.
4. Pack the winter coats, blankets and such. (It’s Summer and 100+ degrees so it feels like a crime even touching the stuff, but why not?)
1. Find a book you missed. Rearrange the boxes already packed to fit it in.
3. Start packing the kitchen stuff, oh yeah, I need it to cook.
2. What kid went and unpacked these toys? None of them have even played with them in a year. Pick up the toys and pack them again.
5. Straighten out the garage and pack the tools.
5. Unpack the tools. I need some of them to take stuff apart.
6. Pack the Christmas stuff. Get freaked out because it’s still 100+ degrees outside.
1. Find another stray book. Rearrange the packed books to make it fit.
7. Go through about a metric ton of paper – bills, old kids’s drawings… Shred the bills and save the drawings.
2. Oh man! there’s more toys out than when I started.
1. Where did these books come from? Find a new box and pack them.
3. Still gotta cook.
8. Why does this place look the same as when I started?
7. Found some more paper to recycle.
9. Take out the trash and worry the waste disposal company will reject this week’s “offering” because it’s way more than allowed.
1. Another book? Why did I major in English Literature?
10. Go to the liquor store to get some more boxes. How could I possibly be going through these so fast?
3. To heck with cooking. Eating out isn’t that expensive.
2. How’d the toys get outside?
10. Toys, books, and kitchen utensils in this box…

“At least it’s a dry heat,” he said.

Over 95 degrees. It doesn’t matter what kind of heat it is. It’s just hot.

“I was outside today before it rained. It was, like 89 degrees and humid. I felt like I was walking through a carpet. I couldn’t get the sweat off me.”

30 seconds outside and all the water is baked from my body.

“I was in South Dakota once when it was 98. Driving back to my campsite I thought I would just burst into flames.”

I think my brain’s melted…

Or “Explaining that typewriter thingy at the top of my blog.” (Part II)

type·writ·er (n) – A writing machine that produces characters similar to typeset print by means of a manually operated keyboard that actuates a set of raised types, which strike the paper through an inked ribbon.

re·luc·tant blogger (phr n) – One who is unwilling, disinclined, or otherwise offers resistance to creating or posting on a web log on line diary. Me.

I am not old fashioned. I am not so set in my ways I refuse to test new waters. Actually, I’m quite the opposite. My wife usually cringes when she hears me say, “I’ve got an idea.” Often my ideas involve leading edge technology, a lot of do-it-yourself tenacity, and more money than I first expect. (As Homer Simpson would say, “Mmmmm leading edge technology.”) So why an antique typewriter?

I guess when it comes to writing I like “old school” stuff. It may sound strange to hear if you know me at all and are currently mentally cataloging all the science fiction I’ve ever read. But it’s true. When I think about the literary style I enjoy the most Mark Twain (or Samuel Clemens) comes immediately to mind.

Mark Twain is classically American. He’s energetic, skeptimistic (a word my wife invented), adventurous and boldly outspoken. To me, these are all traits that make blogging well, blogging. It’s daring, and somewhat presumptuous to yap out some text, slap it on the Web and expect people to read it. Well gosh darn I wanted to capture the blogging spirit in picture. I wanted to summarize my bold step into blogdom using an iconic summary of most grand proportions.

Okay, I just thought it looked cool. Honest truth, the typewriter you see in the corner up there is of the same model Mark Twain used, and he’s purported to be the first person to “apply the typewriter to literature.” It’s a Hammond type 1 circa 1894 – a little bit classic, a little bit modern. It was definitely cutting edge for its time.

I’m not cutting edge. I’m not a classic. I’m definitely no Mark Twain. But I do love to write and I love technology. Yup, blogging is a blend of old and new — kind of like Mark Twain and the typewriter.

Five years ago today “Sammy-Ball” came quietly into our crazy lives.

I regret I don’t remember a lot about his first year. I was working two jobs. I spent most of my off time – if you could call it that, sleeping and trying to help my wife as much as possible. Honestly, I think I spent more time sleeping than helping. Actually, most of my help probably wasn’t much help at all.

But I do remember two things about Sam that first year. One, he spent a lot of time scratching. Most of his scratching happened late at night when everyone else was tired. Poor guy got less sleep at night than anyone else. Two, because of his scratching, I remember the time I spent holding him, rocking him, and watching TV. (He’s the one who got me hooked on Farscape after all).

There’s something wonderful about sitting with a rugby-sized bundle tucked in your arms. I’ve enjoyed doing so with every little one since Sam. – even if they weren’t fidgeting Tasmanian devil rugby-sized bundles like Sam.

Peace. Calm. Quiet reliance and security. Sam helped me find those things in the chaos that first year. His need reminded me to seek our quiet time – to treasure it. His comfort became mine, and his fulfillment taught me to seek fulfillment for my own needs with someone whom I could bundle into and feel safe – God.

Me and my little Sammy ball grew a lot that first year. Eventually, his constant scratching cooled to a simmer (though it has never stopped). At the same time my itch grew and I started to scratch a lot more…

Happy Birthday Sammy-Ball, and thank you for your big, unplanned gift. I pray you never stop itching for God. May you always find comfort in His arms.

Stupidity stings,
sings more loudly
than the still sighs
of
Patience.

Part II of Me and My Big Ideas will have to wait a couple of days — until I’m better equipped to type.

I got in an argument this afternoon with a can of Spaghetti-O’s and… well, although it’s embarrassing to say, I lost. I’ve got four new buddies sewn into the joint of my index finger right now. And although the local anesthetic hasn’t worn off yet, it’s really hard to type. Trust me. It’s taken 10 minutes to put this together. (How do “hunt and peck” typers to it?)

Until I’m a little more mobile I’ll stick to trying to tap out some poetry the next few days. I should have enough angst and sleepless nights to make sure of it…

Pink,
Ribbons and bows.
Smiles.

Dough-nies craved,
Hugs given away.
She twirls and grows.

My eyes cannot believe
what my heart sees.
Before me now she yearns
to be big.

Beauty cannot
be tacked to memories.
She flies.

Or “Explaining that typewriter thingy at the top of my blog.” (Part I)

When I started designing this site I wanted a way to convey my intent to practice many writing styles. Therefore, please forgive me in advance for any and all terrible prose and poetry I inflict upon you. It is of course your discretion to return to this site, and if in so doing you are offended (in the classical sense) it will then be your fault for seeking the continued punishment against your senses. You’ve been warned.

Anyway, I thought about a number of different designs. My wife is probably surprised I did not pick something with more of an “ultra” science fiction theme. (Perhaps Farscape or Red Dwarf.)? When it comes to writing however, I find I tend to favor the process more than any one style. If you’re still around a year from now I hope you’ll find a number of different styles and themes from commentary to well, sci-fi.

In any event, I wanted something that spoke of a time before word processing slew pen and paper, and big ideas. But I also wanted a touch of modernity. (This after all being a blog — built on the technological wonder of instant publishing as only the Web could deliver). My immediate thought was to use the image of a typewriter.

Four days can go by so quickly. Especially when one is busy not writing.

Yes. I took a couple of days off. Well, not really. I was extremely busy redesigning my wife’s blog. You can check it out here.

Nothing about the process came easily. Well, the design came easily, but the coding was a matter of constantly meeting a brick wall until everything was just right. I’m convinced that’s just the way it is. People who code for a living must be crazy – but at least they get paid well…