meow

These days, the first thing that greets me when I get home is the smell that says, "It's time to clean the litter box."

I don't have a cat.

something old, something new

A few days ago, I showed up early for an interview appointment. Many had applied and others were already waiting. I caught myself sizing up my competition. Then I caught myself repressing a laugh at the realization that I was a used car in a new car lot. They've got GPS built into the dash; I have a Thomas Guide. They've got ipod jacks; I have a tape deck. They've got the coveted new car smell; I have a cardboard pine hanging from the rear view mirror. They've got youth and energy; I have... experience. I felt a momentary dip in confidence. After all, newer is better, right?

Whatever I felt when I entered the interview room, I felt quite the opposite when I exited. I had gone through a nearly identical interview exam over five years ago, and I must say, this old fart kicked that newbie's ass. I haven't any sense that I outperformed my competition or that I would advance to the next round. But I did sense that as between my present and my younger self, the intervening years had brought more than just wear and tear. The years had brought ease and confidence and other upgrades that I value, no matter what they might fetch in the market.

an atheist, a missionary and an african walk into a bar...

When you get this kind of review from your harshest critic, you must be doing something right.

this side of paradise

In Chapter 34 of Deuteronomy, Moses looked on the promised land from a hill. He died on that hill and never crossed into the land because some years ago, he struck a rock. (Long story.)

It always seemed a rather unfair or simply frustrating end. At times, it seemed like a total rip-off. To lead and beg and plead on behalf of a bunch of grumbling, idol-casting whiners through the desert for 40 years, only to stop short of, to be prevented from actually reaching the destination.

Then I look at all that preceded this. Moses spoke to a burning bush, turned staff into serpent and water into blood, cast plagues, parted the sea, carried tablets (2 sets) written by the fingers of God. He spoke with God as a man would speak with his friend, argued, pleaded, vented, with total freedom and transparency. Not all of it was warm and fuzzy; some parts were downright terrifying. Yet there could be no question that the good parts and the bad all flowed from intimate and extensive interactions with God.

As I converse with friends who are still waiting or coming to terms that they might never enter their promised land -- be it health or wealth, mate or child, the perfect job or the perfect body -- I'm reminded of Moses. Moses who shepherded his people through the desert for 40 years. Moses who struck a rock in error. Moses who didn't complain upon learning that he wouldn't enter the Promised Land. Moses who, in the days between the desert of Midian and the Mountain of Horeb, had gotten more than he could have ever hoped for, much less expected, on this side of Canaan. In contrast to his companions, who could only look forward to what had yet to be provided and barely noticed the waters that parted for their passage or the manna and quails that filled their stomachs, Moses embraced God as both his promise and his land flowing with milk and honey.

It's so tempting to wait to start life, to really live with abandon, with courage, with faith, until after we have grasped the promised land of our own imagination. Once I reach x, then I can relax and focus on the important things.

But why wait? Why risk foregoing the paradise at hand for a mirage in the distance?

step away from the keypad

It's 2009 and California's no-texting-while-driving law is now in effect.

Either "no texting while driving" is too vague a concept, or perhaps addictive behaviour makes people stupid, because there are an awful lot of questions about this new law. "Is it ok to email my grandma to wish her a happy birthday?" "What if I'm pausing at a stop sign, would that still count as texting while driving?" "What if I train my dog to text for me; is that illegal?"

Try keeping your eyes on the road and using your hands to steer the motorized steel box plowing forth at full speed. Pick your nose. Scratch an itch. Drum along to the music. Drive while you're driving. Be coy; leave a few messages unread and unsent.

It's gonna be ok.