Another Game of Boom!

I know I wrote about this subject yesterday, but...

I ran up the stairs with two bags of groceries in my hand, past my brother's door, stopping only for a few seconds to yell, "Matt's here!" then down to my room. I grabbed my shotgun out of the closet as fast as I could then ran the groceries back down the hall and left them in the kitchen. I was so excited, I had carried them the whole way (I have to go by the kitchen to get to my room).

Tonight's game was the best so far.

I crept out the back door, crawling on the kitchen floor so Matt wouldn't see me through the windows in the front. Ben waited inside, hoping he could use the vacant rooms to his advantage. I, silently as I could, made my way around the house's entirety without one sighting. "Maybe he's going around the house the same way I am," I thought. He had seen me with the groceries before I disappeared into the basement, where he eventually snuck in. "Maybe if I stay..."

BOOM!

Ben's down. Now I know Matt's in the house. So I go back into the basement through the garage. The door into the house there is fortunately without obvious creeks. I used that to my advantage. So I waited at the bottom of the stairs, hoping he'd come down. His shadow came across the front door, silhouetted by the kitchen light. All was working to my benefit...until Ben joined him. "Crap," I thought. "Now I've got two of 'em." They conspired, within ear shot, to go outside, choosing the back door as their exit.

"I just might have a chance," I thought.

After I heard them leave, I made my way up to the kitchen where my mom was preparing dinner. I motioned a question, raising two fingers and pointing them both outside. "Are they both out there," I was asking. She peered out the door, under the guise of checking the laundry on the line, and shook her head. The coast was clear.

So out I went. I headed around the north side of the house and heard them in the garage. But if I went that way (north), they'd see me through the window. So I had to try south. I had just come around the corner when Matt popped out of the garage.

BOOM! BOOM!

We both got a shot off. No one's really sure who first. Ben came out after him.

BOOM! BOOM!

I shot first but if Matt had gotten the first shot of all, it wouldn't matter. Of course, Ben was already hit anyway from before so I suppose that doesn't matter in the least.

The game took a total of fifteen minutes (usually it takes two) and it leaked outside, which it's never done before. I'm sure, now that we've explored some previously undiscovered potential, we'll be doing it like this more often. It should be interesting, come winter.

Like I said, best so far.

It's A Toy, Relax

Yes, I have indeed been neglecting this outlet.

Tonight was fairly uneventful except that I never left work. I mean, I left the building, but work followed me. I had about an hour of chill time between 3:30 (the end of my machining day) and 5:30 (the time I met Jeff and Eric to transport a slate pool table to our church youth room; it's new home). Now, if you're terrible at math and calculating time, you'll pass that sentence without a second thought. But if you're good at those things, or can at least crunch numbers, you'll notice there are, in fact, two hours there as opposed to the aforementioned one.

And well done. For there are indeed two.

But the thing is, there was enough between there that my actual down time was even less than one hour. For instance, I didn't leave the shop until 4:00, at which point my dad and I dropped off the company truck at Jack's house and spent some time looking at his new toy (an ultra-light; it's a hang glider with an engine). Didn't leave there until 4:20, stopped to pick up a sandwich and salad (my dad's with me at this point because the truck is back at Jack's), stopped at the bank, and finally made it home at around 4:45. Fifteen minutes until Matt shows up!

So I pull out my shotgun.

It's a toy, relax. We have this game where when Matt comes over, he tries to sneak up and shoot me before I can do the same to him. His is a toy too, relax. He carries a silenced .45, I carry a stockless pump-action shotgun. He'll come in the house and quietly make his way to wherever Ben or I are, and shoot us (again, pretend...seriously, relax). Or we'll get him first. Tonight, I got him. I knew he was coming in, so I hid in my parents' room while my mom opened the door. By the time he got down the hall and realized I wasn't in my room, I had already snuck up on him. BOOM!

It was pretend, he's still alive, relax!

My brother had called me at work about helping with the pool table. "Oh, and Matt's helping too," I said.

"Oh...can you do me a favor?" he asked.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Can you hide my gun under the stairs to the deck and leave the back door open so I won't make any noise coming in the house? That way I can sneak up on him."

What a great plan! I did as he asked after I got home. My parents were eating out on that same deck when he arrived. He recruited my mom and she came down to my room asking a question she'd already asked me a while earlier. I thought it strange but said nothing. He followed her down the hall so his footsteps would be masked. Nice move. He was behind Matt without betraying his presence. BOOM!

Honestly, I'm done explaining the imagination of this game. If you haven't relaxed at this point, I can't help you.

After moving the pool table, which was fun, though challenging, we all had pizza out (except Jeff who had already eaten). And now I'm home. I want to take a shower.

So I will.

Less Than I'd Like

I've got so many thoughts and so little energy. I just typed up two medium-sized emails (which for me is four to five paragraphs) and my mind is close to being shut down for the evening. Now that I think about it, I should go get ready for bed. Brush my teeth, put on my pajamas, crawl under the covers.

Alyssa will be calling me soon and I want to be ready when she does. While this week is certainly an improvement over the last (busy, busy schedule with no room for communication), it's still less than I'd like. We've time to talk here and there but still nothing of quality so far, save a shortened conversation over lunch yesterday.

So, no offense, but I'd rather be somewhere else right now.

Smuggling Laughter

I'm slowly smuggling pens out of the office. So far this week--the only week I've taken up this practice--this is my second pen (the one I'm writing with*). It's an old pen, with "Jensen Machine Compa" (not a typo) inscribed in several different font sizes, styles and colors. I would presume it to be a sample pen from a company looking to make a profit in that niche. Specially designed pens to promote your business to whomever's hands they happen to fall into. I must say, I'm impressed. I think I'll look up this "Jensen Machine Compa" when I get home.

*[I'm writing this down on a graph pad, to be translated into type later, or now (depending on your perspective in time)]^

I'm taking the time to write all this while the jig borer (a Pratt & Whitney, probably from the 1950's or 60's) rhythmically churns out blue, spirally steel chips. But Adam, steel is silver. That's true, but these chips are being pulled away from the bearing hard and fast, which creates lots of friction. Friction creates heat, heat leads to the dark side. I mean heat causes (I don't know how) the chips to change color. Gold chips are pretty hot. But the really hot ones are beautiful. They come out in blues and purples. And the neatest thing is that the change is permanent. They stay that color.

Kind of like the way God changes us through trials. It's hot, but we come out blue abe beautiful. Maybe even a little spirally. Or maybe the chips come off to reveal the beautiful silver underneath (I'm working with heat-treated bearings which are deep red and black, so silver looks great when it appears), and the chips are junk that blocks that beauty. He makes something beautiful out of something ugly.

Which brings me to humor. Actually, not really, but I do want to talk about it.

Yesterday was filled with laughter. There was so much humor in my day, including (and you won't necessarily get it) stories of people getting caught in an updraft (while hang gliding or parachuting) which evolved into whales doing the same (the story, not the people). Then there was Shia Labeouf leaking the title for the new Indiana Jones movie. "Indiana Jones and the Missing Tuba".

I love to laugh. I love it even more so when it's shared. Alyss and I laugh a lot together. We love to play. To make things up or find the humor in something we're doing. We enjoy just being kids together. All be it two kids in love, but still kids. We like games that you play simply for the joy of playing a game. My heart is getting nice and warm thinking about all this. You know, like sitting by a fire under a blanket in the winter. This is a blessing with the weekdays going the way they have. Thirty second phone calls just to say what we're doing and that we have to go. So it's nice to think about laughing together. It's a huge gift from God. Or a small gift that's REALLY meaningful.

I think I'll stop there and hold onto this for a while.

^[Normally, any special notes marked by an asterisk, or that little cross, go at the end of a given piece of literature, like this. I just felt like being different, I guess.]

We're Already Back

I always seem to be listening to deeper music when I'm feeling pensive. Tonight, for instance, my audible companion is Ben Folds. Right now he's on stage, backed up by John McCrea (of Cake), singing "Fred Jones Part 2". It's a sad song.

And I am sad. Sort of.

I had a rather lengthy conversation with my mom this evening, residual parts of which are still lingering. I won't go into detail over its subject, but it was a conversation over some things I've been pondering for a while. It was good to get them out. But there were also some things that require action, which I plan to take soon.

I also have had patchy conversations with Alyssa throughout the day. I left two voicemails during my morning "coffee break" (I don't drink coffee, I just enjoy a moment to sit and eat a snack or two). We exchanged few words at lunch, she distracted by a friend or two and I by some wild turkeys passing through the lot. Nothing after that until a missed phone call, I presume was placed just before the IVCF (Intervarsity Christian Fellowship) prayer meeting. No voicemail, so I don't know. [correction: There was a voicemail, I didn't notice it until later] Then another word or two when I called after the meeting had ended. Now she's somewhere between the meeting and getting ready for bed. But again, I don't know.

This past weekend was difficult as it left us very little time to connect with each other on that intimate level of communication. Sigh. The week prior had no time for us to connect at all, save a few patchy conversations. And that's where I find us again. At least from my perspective. There are so many things I want to talk to her about, things that happened last week and have already happened this week. Yet I feel that we'll once again find ourselves moving through the week with slight gaps for a word or two, which inevitably end up being business in subject (usually something about an evening's, or the weekend's, plans). Sigh. We're already back to the week.

And so, at 10:04 pm, I find myself alone with Ben Folds.

Can't Think Of A Better Title

Oops, skipped two days.

Time? Effort? Applesauce? Whatever.

I'm sitting in front of the amazingly wide monitor on Alyssa's home computer. It's the "family" computer but considering each of the "kids" has their own, I consider it Alyssa's father's. So I suppose I'm sitting in front of Alyssa's father's computer. No wait, I am. I AM sitting in front of Alyssa's father's computer. And I'm also in his chair, at his desk, in his house.

Where am I going with this? Let's try something else.

Today I have the privilege of taking Emily's (Alyssa's sister) yearbook and senior photos. She asked me if I would do them, and though I was hesitant from a good chunk of time away from photography, I agreed. It'll be a good experience for me to get back into it and use that good eye God gave me. Yes, he gave me two, it's an expression. Right now I'm waiting for Emily to get ready, Alyssa to be done with her prayer time and breakfast to be eaten. I had some prayer time too but mine was far shorter than Alyssa's.

Perhaps it was that I didn't make myself more available to God so He gave me less to pray about. Or perhaps it was that I needed less time to get right with God (we are in two different relationships with Him after all). I don't know. But either way, she's been downstairs for a while and this is how I've been spending my time in the interim.

And wow is it going to be hot today. Another 90 degree afternoon. UGH!! I cannot WAIT for autumn's weather. Unfortunately, however, the trees have been changing since August. So the exquisite foliage portion of the fall won't be as brilliant as it was last year. But that's okay...I'm looking forward to the cool, crisp New England air.

Yeah, this entry's all over the place.

How about a story?

Two mice fell into a bucket of cream...no wait, that one's been done before. Something else, something else...hmm...Ah, yes...

The...oh shoot, everyone's ready now. Well, another time.

As Yourself

Wow.

God's really been revealing a lot to me these past few days. I haven't the time or the space to type about them all. That, and I haven't told Alyssa yet. And since she's my #2 (second only to God), she is privy to anything personal before you (anyone reading this publicly available information). One thing, however, not being too personal shall here and now be conveyed.

Treat people the way you want to be treated.

Read it again. That's not what it says.

Treat your neighbor as yourself.

AS yourself. So the question is, how are you treating yourself? Because if you're trying to be perfect, you'll treat your neighbor as if they should be too. If you allow yourself room for error and forgiveness when the time comes, so your neighbor will find the same from you. And I've definitely seen this in action. Normally I expect myself to be a certain way and I find that I hold the same expectations to Alyssa and become upset when she doesn't meet them. Today, I forgave myself for screwing up. I gave myself room to breathe, relax, and just be me. And guess how I treated Alyssa? The same way. Treat your neighbor as yourself.

I learned something valuable today.

Marshmallow & Nutmeg

I remember thinking something profound over dinner tonight, or perhaps on the way to the restaurant, but presently I can't recall what it was. I might want to carry with me a notebook of some kind, something small, to jot down random thoughts into. I remember it being rather good, too. Sigh.

I acquired two free glasses tonight. Every Tuesday night at Eli's, a brewery comes to sample their beers. If you order something on tap from the "special guest" brewery, and you're there early enough, you get a free glass with your beer (with the brewery's logo on it). This particular evening's brewery was Red Hook. I ordered two glasses of their seasonal (their autumn or harvest, I dont' remember what it's called). It was pretty good. And I got two glasses. A little piece of cool for the night.

Another noteworthy bit about Eli's is their sweet potato fries, which you can substitute for regular frieds for I think a dollar or two extra. And, if you ask, they'll bring you the special sweet dipping sauce with them. It's delicious. I found out it's merely marshmallow and nutmeg. Apparently the marshmallow is boiled, melted or liquified, or something like that, and the nutmeg is added in. WOW is it good. You should try it. Eli Cannon's, Middletown, CT.

I could certainly write more, yes, but I just fell asleep between the end of that previous paragraph and this sentence. So I think I'll go ahead with the plans that Alyssa and I made to get to bed early. Oh, I can't wait!

Just fell asleep again. I'd better go.

One Hundred Six

106.

What in the world could you categorize with that number? Let's see...well, nothing that I know of. This is my 106th post, so I was hoping to find some uses for that particular three-digit combination. However, it seems that I'll have to find some other topic to foster.

Like my breath. Ugh. I've been eating these nacho chips from Trader Joe's called "...well, I don't know what they're called and I don't feel like getting the bag, so forget about it. But, despite my laziness, my breath still smells. Or at least the inside of my mouth tastes like I've got this salsa-esque film coating on everything. Yuck.

And yet I still eat them. What gives?

All this aside, I really should take my shower. It's my turn (Alyssa just got out). And after that, I've got to transfer some of my unnecessary items from her room to my car where they'll be readily available when I get home from work tomorrow. It's a long arm's reach from my house to here, so driving them home with me seemed like a better idea.

That being said...off I go.

A Jumble

I'm letting the deep, sober melancholy of Ben Folds ("Not The Same", to shortly be followed by "One Down", off the album "Ben Folds Live") wash over the excitement of what was today. Not the birthday or new-born baby sort of excitement, but just the amount of things going on. Although, compared to previous seasons I've been through, today was rather mild.

I helped Alyssa and her crew move in new students to their various dorm rooms in select buildings. Really just one building, but she's worked in a few so perhaps, vicariously through her, I too did more than one building. Lots of big items to carry in. Boxes, TV's, X-Box 360's (no, not very big but perhaps a bit noteworthy...not that I'm an advocate for video game systems...I actually don't care for them much anymore) and the like.

Blah blah blah, monotonous details of the day. Something more creative, Adam. Please. Come on, you can do this. Seriously, try something better.

Maybe it's that I'm tired or maybe it's that I'm full of bison burger. Which, by the way, tasted a little musty. Like that old, pioneer smell. You know, those rooms that get sectioned off with velvet rope, containing all sorts of artifacts from Lewis and Clark's journey across the Louisiana Purchase, or an exhibit of canvas covers from wagon trains that made it through the West. That smell. Well, it tasted like that smell (at least a little).

Now I'm listening to Bill Frisell's "Coffaro's Theme" from the "Finding Forrester" soundtrack. Clearly, my mind is a jumble of mismatched thought.

Sigh.

A rabbit crossed the room to find himself alone against a backdrop of candlelit tears.

Figure that one out.

About A Paragraph

If I were to type a paragraph about a paragraph, it might look something like this one. I'd consider speaking about punctuation and grammer, including the use of commas and periods. But I wouldn't get too in depth; certain punctuation probably wouldn't be used. Like a semicolon. It's a rarely pressed key. It's possible that I would also choose to touch on word selection and the importance of at least attempting to be succinct. It's less tedious. Some sentences might be short. Other sentences might be longer and more elaborative (perhaps even using parentheses to contain a quick thought or two). And, of course, these complete thoughts relating to the same general topic would be grouped together to form the paragraph itself.

That is, if I were to type a paragraph about a paragraph.