How's my new grandpuppy?

I think I've been reluctant to start writing again because I'm worried about opening a floodgate of raw emotion from the last few weeks. Like I said before, my wife's mother passed away unexpectedly on June 25th, and it's been one of the toughest things I've ever had to go through. Seeing my wife hurt so much for so long, not to mention the rest of her family. There have been a few good things to come of this too though.

For example, two days ago I saw a smile on Wifey's face that you usually don't see on anyone over the age of twelve. She'll be so mad at me for putting up this awful cell phone picture, but you've gotta see it.




What's that she's holding? That would be her new puppy. His name is Zeke. He's a Yorkshire Terrier, and I'm the world's biggest softy. Here's another picture of him...




He's really much cuter in person too. This morning I got a short email from my mom. It inspired my return to the blogosphere, after almost a month of absence.

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Just had to share this one with you! How's my new grandpuppy?
cm [Incidentally, "cm?" Are those your initials, or an abbreviation of "Congenial Mother?"]

[Attached: forwarded email about the Texas heat, which becomes a huge conversational topic this time of year]

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Asleep! YAAAAAAAYYYY!!!! Last night we made a run to Petsmart and a lady there told us that babies are much easier than Yorkie puppies. We thought that was ridiculous, and then I thought about it a little bit. He won't sleep through the night, requires attention every moment he's awake right now, and has stinky poop you have to clean up (and wipe his bottom). BUT! No diapers, and he can run.

Last night he did pretty well. He decided we were ready to go to bed about eleven, and then slept until one, when he decided it was playtime. He was adamant about that. So Wifey tried to work her magic, and then I took him out to the living room, let him run on his leash, and played, "I want up I want down" for a while. (Remember that game?)

So about 1:50 I decided to just block off everything I didn't want him to get to in the bedroom. I used plywood scraps, large books, and a chair turned on its side while Julie held him in the bed. When I finally finished, I turned to Julie. She shrugged and gestured to the puppy, who had just laid his head down and gone to sleep, snuggled up against her belly. Fortunately, he made it through the rest of the night.

A couple more interesting things...

His favorite food is my sweat. We have no air conditioner, so I'm constantly covered in puppy slobber.

He thinks my feet are his natural prey. He must attack them on sight, especially when they try to run (walk) away from him.

Finally, he's convinced my nipples have milk. So much for walking around the house without a shirt.

He's really cute though. Especially when he's asleep.

Love you,
Solid

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Dear Readers,

Thanks for your patience with me while I've been gone. It's unlikely I'll be going back to posting every day right now, but I'm going to try to write something at least two or three times a week. Bear with me though. Life hasn't really returned to normal, but I guess I do have a lot to talk about.

Peace,
Solid

Where'd you go?

I wanted to get online to give a quick update to those of you that have wondered as to why I've been silent for the last couple of days.  I may or may not to able to post at any point in the next three weeks or so.

My wife's dear mother passed away very unexpectedly yesterday.  They really were best friends.  She was undergoing a hip replacement, and it was supposed to be a routine procedure.  Unfortunately, a blood clot travelled from the area of the surgery to her heart, and after an hour of efforts, the surgeons were unable to revive her.

Needless to say, it's been...well, pretty much impossible.  We're in Las Vegas with my father-in-law and brother-in-law, and everybody's just trying to make it through a day at a time.  I can't believe it was just yesterday.

The most ridiculous thing is that I don't feel like it should be affecting me as much as it is.  I loved her.  I'm sad about a lot of things.  But my heart breaks for what my wife is going through.  I keep sneaking off to cry.  It's so stupid.

..............

Answering impossible questions is sort of the purpose of this blog.  I really get a kick out of it.  But today I was sitting in a room with a pastor, and was about to say something when my wife came in crying uncontrollably.  I'll tell you instead.

At this point, I'm almost done with my second Masters degree in theology.  I expect to graduate summa cum laude.  I've worked in ministry for over fifteen years.  And I have no answers that are really sufficient.  How?  Why?  I could lecture on the theological development on modern theodicy, which is supposed to deal with that stuff, but it's just not good enough when you're in the thick of it.

Why did this happen?

The world's broken.

Where was God when she died?

The same place he was when his own son died.  On the throne of grace, looking down with love and compassion.

How did it happen?

Blood clot, doctors, the world's broken...  I don't know.

I don't know.

None of it's good enough.

I can only hug you, and love you, and hold your hand, and kiss your forehead, and not leave your side.  Those are the closest things to answers I can come up with right now.

.......

I didn't mean to write this much.  My wife needs me.  Thank you all for your kind thoughts, for your prayers, and for your condolences.  Someday I'll have a little more to say...maybe.  Right now I have other things to do.

-Solid

P.S. I swear that if anyone tries to take me on with this stuff, I'll smack you back into the third grade.  Or worse, I'll sick Katherine on you.  In fact, yeah.  Katherine, until I'm back on top of things, you can be my bulldog.  Much love, old friend.  Much love to all of you.

Who would win in a fight between Superman and the Hulk?

For today's blog, I humbly offer a letter I submitted today to Eddie Pappani, of The Mikey Show. In case you're new here, I'm a fan. Of The Mikey Show. And comic books. And trying to sound smart. Enjoy.

Dear Eddie,

I thoroughly enjoyed this morning’s “nerd debate” regarding a hypothetical physical altercation between Superman and the Hulk. With all respect, I believe you argued your position better than either of the designated debaters. Nonetheless, I take issue with your position. In other words, you, sir, are wrong.

As an aficionado of video games, I rest assured you are familiar with the concept of “kiting” wherein a combatant with ranged attacks maintains a sufficient distance between himself and his opponent so that he will suffer no damage, all the time performing ranged attacks designed to eventually undo his opponent and gain the victory. Superman has a natural ranged attack in his “heat vision,” whereas Hulk has none.

Ah! But Hulk can throw rocks, you say! Indeed he can. This is where we come to one of two critical areas where Superman can potentially supersede the Hulk. I am speaking of super-speed. No matter how powerful the Hulk may become, if he cannot land a blow on Superman, the point is moot.

Yes, I anticipate your next argument as well, and am ready to answer it. Indeed, as the Hulk’s anger rises so with it will rise his power in all respects, and with it, his invulnerability. (His speed may be affected as well, but such conjecture is only theoretical.) At best, we find ourselves in a position where the proverbial “unstoppable force” has met the “immovable object.” Is it possible that Superman can never destroy a Hulk whose invulnerability is unlimited?

Perhaps. However, the question of who would win the fight may be answered by a simple consideration of Newtonian physics. Superman’s power of flight allows him to change direction in midair, while the Hulk’s does not. Consider then the following scenario:

The Hulk gathers his power, and with a mighty leap that causes the very earth to shake, he vaults into the air on a collision course with the Man of Steel. His rage has reached such a point that one punch might well end the Kryptonian in a way even Doomsday might never have imagined.

Superman moves to the side, allows the Hulk to pass, and hits him from behind with a blast from his heat vision, inflicting damage and propelling the Hulk further into space.

One of two things will happen at this point. Either the Hulk will die of oxygen depletion outside the Earth’s atmosphere or if Superman has aimed well, the Hulk will be on a near endless course through the depths of space as he leaves not only the Earth’s atmosphere but also the boundaries first of our solar system, and many, many years after his massive body has begun to rot, eventually leaves the Milky Way galaxy itself to drift forever in darkness.

The Hulk has one great hope. Fortunately for him, the writers at DC Comics are not nearly so creative as to be able to come up with such a solution, as evidenced by Superman’s tragic encounter with Doomsday, which could well have ended similarly. The Hulk, on the other hand, has Stan Lee, Avi Arad, and the rest of the Marvel Comics team behind him, who would never so much as consider introducing a character so overpowered as Superman only to waste such potential on simple matters such as crime-fighting.

My conclusion, therefore, is that while the Hulk might well lose in a fight to Superman, Marvel Comics are clearly superior to DC Comics, as should be self-evident at this point.

Thank you,

P1 Solid

Strongest dad in the world?

Wow! Yesterday Pastor Dave shared a video in church that really got me, and I wanted to pass it on. I've attached it at the bottom, but it'll help if I give you a little background information. The following is taken from TeamHoyt.com:

Dick and Rick Hoyt are a father-and-son team from Massachusetts who together compete just about continuously in marathon races. And if they’re not in a marathon they are in a triathlon — that daunting, almost superhuman, combination of 26.2 miles of running, 112 miles of bicycling, and 2.4 miles of swimming. Together they have climbed mountains, and once trekked 3,735 miles across America.

It’s a remarkable record of exertion — all the more so when you consider that Rick can't walk or talk. For the past twenty five years or more Dick, who is 65, has pushed and pulled his son across the country and over hundreds of finish lines.




At Rick’s birth in 1962 the umbilical cord coiled around his neck and cut off oxygen to his brain. Dick and his wife, Judy, were told that there would be no hope for their child’s development.

In 1975, Rick was finally admitted into a public school. Two years later, he told his father he wanted to participate in a five-mile benefit run for a local lacrosse player who had been paralyzed in an accident.

Dick, far from being a long-distance runner, agreed to push Rick in his wheelchair. They finished next to last, but they felt they had achieved a triumph. That night, Dick remembers, "Rick told us he just didn’t feel handicapped when we were competing."

Rick’s own accomplishments, quite apart from the duo’s continuing athletic success, have included his moving on from high school to Boston University, where he graduated in 1993 with a degree in special education. That was followed a few weeks later by another entry in the Boston Marathon.

As he fondly pictured it: "On the day of the marathon from Hopkinton to Boston people all over the course were wishing me luck, and they had signs up which read 'Congratulations on your graduation!’"

Rick now works at Boston College’s computer laboratory helping to develop a system codenamed "Eagle Eyes," through which mechanical aids (like for instance a powered wheelchair) could be controlled by a paralyzed person’s eye-movements, when linked-up to a computer.

Together the Hoyts don’t only compete athletically; they also go on motivational speaking tours, spreading the Hoyt brand of inspiration to all kinds of audiences, sporting and non-sporting, across the country.




By the way, Dick Hoyt is 65 years old. That's what I call Solid.


-Solid

Why isn't Fathers Day a bigger deal?

Ok, let’s be real here. Mothers Day is just a bigger deal than Fathers Day. No, they’re not just “different.” Do you remember all the Mothers Day marketing last month? And then Fathers Day comes around, and it’s like the stores all of a sudden go, “Ah, shoot! It’s Fathers Day! Let’s…um…put ties on sale.”

We got my mom this beautiful flower arrangement this year. Dad’s getting a card. (Did you hear that, Dad? Enjoy your friggin’ card. You’ll probably get it, like…I don’t know. Wednesday? You can blame me for that—not Wifey.) So what’s the deal? My dad is great! We love our dads, right? I have a theory.

When I was a kid, my dad used to drive an old Ford Pinto. It was originally my mom’s car, but then she got something else and it was passed on to dad. That car was a real piece. And I don’t mean a museum piece.

Every morning we’d hear, “RrrRRRrrrrRRRRrrrrRRrrrRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrr!” as he tried to get it started up. Finally it just wouldn't start anymore. I think he sold it for a couple hundred dollars.

Then he got a canary yellow Toyota Corolla hatchback. He bought it from a guy that worked for him, and it already had about 100,000 miles on it. He drove it into the ground. That thing finally died after around 250,000 miles.

Mom had much nicer cars. That’s just how things worked in our family. I remember vowing that when I was grown up, I’d have nice cars. They’d at least be as nice as my wife’s.

Nope. I drive a Nissan Sentra with a big dent in the fender. It’s not quite the equivalent of that old Pinto, but my wife’s car is easily worth twice what mine is.

So here’s my theory. Mothers Day is a bigger deal because we like it that way. By we, I mean men. Yeah, there’s also that nine months in the womb thing, and some other stuff, but I think the biggest reason is that we (men) want Mothers Day to be a bigger deal.

“Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the church and gave himself for her…”

-Ephesians 5:25

My dad laid down so much for us. I don’t know a lot of guys that have done what he’s done. A lot of people’s dads have lives marked by success. And they learned that from their dads.

Know what I learned from my dad? Sacrifice. My mom and dad were separated for a year between 1989 and 1990. It’s not that they wanted to be, or that they were fighting or angry or anything. Dad just couldn’t find work in the town where we lived. So he lived and worked in Dallas and drove home to see us on the weekends. We probably should have just gone with him right away, and finally did, but mom and dad didn’t want to uproot us.

What did he do in the evenings? He cooked. He always said he enjoyed it, but now that we’re all out of the house, he doesn’t really cook anymore. Dad’s cooking was legendary among my friends.

Dad got sober almost a decade ago. He never touches alcohol anymore, unless he’s grabbing a beer out of the fridge for Mom. While I was growing up, Dad drank…a lot. I don’t know for sure why. I mean, he grew up with the understanding that you’re supposed to have a drink after work, but I think the biggest reason was that it was just his way of dealing with everything – the death of his father in 1981, the loss of the family store, financial ruin, foreclosure. I could go on, but I won’t. The thing is…we knew about that stuff, but mostly just cognitively. Mom and Dad protected us from it all. They never dumped their problems on us. They made leftover beans for supper fun (sort of).

A couple of days ago I wrote about how we wait on God to give us worldly blessings when he gives us so much more than that. He gives us what we need to become who he’s created us to be.

With my dad, it was a lot like that too. Dad wanted to give us things that cost money. I’m sure he wanted life to be easier, and I’m sure he still does. My dad gave me character, values, and the ability to prioritize the things that are most important. He taught me sacrifice. A lot of people never learn that.

Thanks for laying down your life for us, Dad. You gave us what we needed, instead of what we all wanted. What you taught us is more valuable than material things.

I don’t say, “I hope I’ll be as good a dad as you someday.” I know I’ll be a good dad. I was watching. I learned.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Enjoy your friggin’ card.

-Solid

Why do we fall?

"So we can learn to pick ourselves up."

That's what Thomas Wayne says to his young son, Bruce, in the 2005 movie "Batman Begins." Wifey had somehow never seen it, even though I was sure I'd shown it to her before. So for the last three nights before bed we've been watching it, and we finally finished it last night. (I know. We're pitiful.)




Today wasn't so great. Nothing really bad happened. I just got discouraged. So here I am at midnight finally getting around to writing something. I had intended on just skipping today, for the first weekday since I started this blog in April. I just couldn't find anything in me I felt was worth sharing.

I had a bad day. It's getting tough to go into work, knowing that there are only a few days left before my layoff. I keep thinking I hear somebody say, "Dead man walking!" like in that movie. Men really struggle with defining themselves in terms of their work. So it's tough.

What am I gonna do? I'm gonna get up in six-and-a-half hours, eat some Fruit Loops, read my Bible, and get my butt in to work. Cause that's what men do.

We pick ourselves up. And we generally find ourselves stronger for it.


-Solid

Whuzuh? Zicam?

The FDA recently issued a warning against the nasal gel and nasal swab forms of Zicam. I’ve used the pill form before, but never these. It’s kinda like Airborne. It’s supposed to either prevent a cold that’s coming on or significantly reduce the symptoms.




It never really worked for me, but I pretty much take whatever my wife gives me. She could poison me anytime she wanted. Today she gave me this big yellow pill and said, “It’s oil. It’ll [blah-blah-blah] your [blah-blah-blah].”

“Fish oil?” I asked. That’s the only kind of oil I could think of that comes in pill form. I’ve never taken it, but it’s always fascinated me. I picture people with plastic hairnets, white coats, and blue plastic gloves squeezing fish over bowls to get the juice out of them.

“No, it’s [bluh-bluh-bluh].”

“Ok, fine.” I swallowed it without water. I know. I have mad pill-swallowing skillz. Somebody call Letterman.

Anyway, I found out today that Zicam is basically a zinc supplement. This is zinc:




Yes, we need a little bit of it in our diet, but c’mon! Is it any surprise that snorting it in gel form might cause a little damage to the sense of smell?

Then again, I can’t talk. If my wife stuck it up my nose and told me to snort, I’d do it. I’m not gonna lie.


-Solid