January 29, 1966

There they are. I'm so proud to announce that my parents have been married (to each other, even) for 40 years. The fact that they still love each other is fabulous, but not particularly surprising. They are people of conviction and a certain amount of flexibility. Oh, and the Lord was present, even before they knew it. It's total bonus for my brother and me that they are committed, and is something to be emulated in all friendships and relationships. Love is both a choice and a series of actions; they demonstrate that. The fact that they still LIKE each other is amazing. And great. And appreciated.

Mike and Char, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.

First comes love, then comes marriage,

then comes David and Stacey in a baby carriage.

Or carseat, or whatever.

Mom and Dad, there really are no adequate words to tell you how much your son and I appreciate the fact that you are still married to one another, happily. Let's just use this: Thank you. That, and neither of you is really worse for the wear. You still look fab 40 years later.

And for everyone else's jealousy factor, The Fig and I prepared the following "Mostly Appetizer" 11 course meal for their celebration on Sunday evening:

1. Green olive tapenade and goat cheese on toast points
2. Seafood bisque (with floating puff pastry hearts for romance factor)
3. Baked Brie in puff pastry with almonds and honey
4. Tomato/fresh mozzerella/basil salad
5. Hot bacon wrapped dates with roasted red pepper sauce*
6. Tuna Sashimi with wasabi and soy sauce
7. Chicken liver chestnut mousse on waffles with maple syrup*
8. crayfish pillows (crayfish-filled phyllo dough triangles)*
9. David's famous ribs
10. Marinated and grilled portabellas
11. Blackberry tartlet with vanilla bean ice cream

(*indicates Todd's recipes.)

Beautiful Song

QUIERO CANTAR

Quiero cantar una linda cancion
de un hombre que me transformo.
Quiero cantar una linda cancion
de Aquel que mi vida cambio.

ES MI AMIGO JESUS
ES MI AMIGO JESUS
EL ES DIOS, EL ES REY,
ES AMOR Y VERDAD.
SOLO EN EL ENCONTRE
LA PAZ QUE BUSQUE,
SOLO EN EL ENCONTRE
LA FELICIDAD.

Translated:

I want to sing a beautiful song
of a man who transformed me.
I want to sing a beautiful song
of the one who changed my life.

HE IS MY FRIEND JESUS
IS MY FRIEND JESUS
HE IS GOD, HE IS KING,
HE IS LOVE AND TRUTH.
ONLY IN HIM DO I FIND THE PEACE THAT I LOOK FOR,
ONLY IN HIM DO I FIND HAPPINESS.

Funny. I started this post before work while I was thinking about my brother. He's going to go on a mission trip to Alaska this summer and just getting to the "want to go on a mission trip" phase of his life was so major I can't even think of how to put it here. (Yet.) And, the song above is the first song I learned on the mission field nearly 18 years ago. (Ask me and I'll sing it for ya sometime.)

So I was thinking of this song because last night The Fig and I were talking about when was the trip, how much money he needed for the plane ticket -- $490 -- who else might be going, etc. What's maybe the coolest thing about this trip is that it's to a church that was planted by someone we grew up with. The same someone who gave us the hardest time possible about going on mission trips as teenagers/college students. (Please don't try to tell me God doesn't have a sense of humor.)

It was time to work and I saved off the song lyrics and knew I'd get back to it this evening. When I was home for an hour or so, The Fig came by with something interesting in his pocket. It seems his birthday card from our Auntie had just arrived, as it had been accidentally misdirected when she mailed it in time for his birthday in mid-December. Her dad, our grandpa, has been gone for nearly 10 years, and they both miss him a LOT. The birthday card contained a note that said, "I was talking to Grandpa, and he said to give you this." It was a check for $500.

Hooray it's 2006, Happy Christmas, and Fabu Birthdays to Many!

Let's just say I'm a teensy bit behind in the updating portion of the program. So, allow me to sort of catch up.

Happy birthday to my darling Christelicious, my little pumpernickel. One day soon, you will surely receive your birthday and Christelmas presents that I've been collecting through the year. I adore you more than is allowable by law, and I intend to love you even more in the future. (Though, I'm fairly sure it would cause total molecular breakdown due to its intensity.)

Happy birthday to my dear nephew Jacob. He is now, GASP, a teenager. And is the same age that his mother and I were when we met one another the first time. We didn't become verybestfriends until the next year, but ohmyDAMN do I feel old. Jacob is a wonderfully sharp and absolutely hilarious person, and I'm blessed to have him in my life. There is NOTHING funnier than a 13 year old boy who has the same sense of humor as one's verybestfriend. Trust me on this one. (Just as an example, he once told me that his superhero, named CheeseMan!, was one intimidating dude. And, all of CheeseMan!'s enemies? Well, they're lactose intolerant.)

Happy birthday to my little nephews Jude and Simon. You two are far too adorable and I wish you'd stop that before my heart just bursts open with luuuuuuuuhhhhhhhv! Just kidding. Keep being ridiculously adorable, and I'm looking forward to playing with you both next time I come to see my VBF.

Happy birthday to my brother. There are NO WORDS. You make me proud to be your family.

Happy birthday to my Matt. Really, there are no words here, either. You are one of the best people I've ever known.

Merry, merry Christmas to all of you who come by and read. I appreciate every one of you. (And trust me, if you're lurking, I have NO IDEA who you are or where you are what you're doing reading my blog. But thank you for doing so.) I hope it was a season of hope and happiness for you and your families.

Goodgollymissmolly, it's 2006. (And I'm apparently a rock singer from the 50's.) May it be replete with health, joy, and the abiding knowledge that you are positively a-dored by the creator of the universe. (Who said to tell you hi. Really.)

Look for more-often updates and remember to love yourselves.

Only because I've been given specific instructions to remove the clowns from the top of my blog screen.

Hi kids. I'm sorry to have to say this, but you crack me straight up with the coulrophobia (fear of clowns.) What are they going to do? IN A PICTURE, at that!

However, you are some of my favorite people in the en-tire world, and because of that, I'm going to post something today so the picture of my Dadness and Mark (er, the clowns) travels further down the page. I'm even going to post something that made me laugh at myownself.

During the Survivor season, I watched only a couple of episodes. After the last one aired, I wrote this, but never posted it:

"I’m still working on the essay with the theory that Tolerance is a Crock of Shit, but haven’t quite knocked that one out as of yet. Today’s essay considers bitterness. And I don’t mean the good kind, as found in bars of 80% cocoa; I mean the kind where every time you open your mouth to, more often than not, “prove your point,” I want to forcefully stick my foot down your throat.

For example, take this guy: Judd from Survivor. Normally, this is the physical type of man I would find really, really sexy. Bigger guy, balding, great skin, keeps his (dark) hair cut very short, Italian-looking. (My very smart S.O. even asked me if I thought Judd was hot – he knows me well.) How.ever. Once Judd opens his mouth to talk, I secretly hope that he’ll choke on his own uvula. In this particular case, I’m referring to the moment in the show when he fairly shouts at another contestant to go to confession when she gets home because she’s such a back-stabber. Then, after he opens his yam to spew some snarky, overwrought, overly-dramatic, cutting comment to another game-player, I start to notice his facial expression. During the entire final Tribal Council and the entire reunion show, he looked like he’d licked a dung-covered shoe."

Shortly after I wrote that, I realized I sounded bitter.

I entertain even myself.

Thank God.

Who do these clowns think they are?

Actually, they are Soupy and Mikey. And their alter-egos are Mark and my Dadness.

Soupy and Mikey were the entertainment portion of the program for the bridal shower Mom and I gave my VBF. Bet you didn't have clowns at your bridal shower!

An important part of my upbringing was my veryownfather dressed in a clown suit telling our 2000 member congregation something I'll never forget. "When someone asks you, 'Who told you about Jesus?', you can say "Some clown."

Thanks for the memories.