Lists

If you were to look in my kitchen on any given day, you would likely find a "to do" list on my counter. It would include items that could be accomplished quickly (so that I get the pleasure of marking something off) and items that might take a month to complete. And some days I get the urge to really cross the heck out of that list. But the end of the day comes and only one thing, or maybe nothing, is resolved. And then I get frustrated with myself. I feel unfocused or lazy or irresponsible. What did I spend my day doing? I spent time with a close friend. I played with play-doh. I talked to Will about his day. I read books to my son. I made dinner for my family. And then I wonder, what exactly do I want out of life? Didn't I just describe most of it? I am blessed beyond measure. God has given me far more than I deserve. I'm struggling to redefine "accomplished" in my mind.

My wildest fantasy

Christy questions me weekly about my wildest fantasy, especially near the weekends. To you, it may seem tame, but it brings me hours of entertainment. Cover your eyes if you are a little bashful. This may not be suitable for small children.

Fantasy football. I spend most of Sunday and Monday evening watching football, just hoping that my players will do well and earn lots of points to bring me fantasy glory. My wife thinks it is some sort of man-crush. If she only knew. She questions my fondness for the actual game of football. I really do like football. Managing a fantasy team just adds to it, and it satisfies my desire for fantasy butt-whipping cause I am fantasy good.

So boys and girls, I encourage you to reveal your man-crushes too. You know who you are, you fantasy fans. And womens, don't hold it against your husbands. It's not that they love men (unless they are of that persuasion, in which case football is the least of your worries), they just love victory.

Great film?

You may be wondering who those people are to the left. Let me first say that I know I should have been packing for our trip to NC tomorrow. I couldn't help it. I watched a movie instead. I'm addicted. The movie this time was the French film, L'Enfant. The shot to the left is from the DVD's cover. What's blog-worthy about this experience is how unlike it was from watching the average American film. No soundtrack. Few words. Deep moral dilemmas to wade through. I didn't really know what to think as the credits rolled by. Being the addict that I am, I like to go online and see what others think. Ebert gave it 4 out of 4 stars. Rotten tomatoes rates it at 86% (which is a very good rating). And for a second I thought, so what. That doesn't mean anything...just because 86 out of 100 professional critics think a film is outstanding doesn't mean I have to like it. But then I wonder if maybe I just have more to learn about what makes a good film. We don't expect school children to be able to identify great literature or art, we teach them what makes something great. Maybe in our culture since we have such a large amount of mass-produced, vapid entertainment, and we are not taught anything about film, we have no foundation for understanding what makes films great. Just spitballin' here. I'm not saying you should all go out and rent L'Enfant. In fact, Will would rather work an extra shift than watch a film like this. But if you do see it, I'd love to know what you think.

Amusing Owen

I want everyone I know to see this picture. Reason being, it took quite a lot of effort to obtain it. This was taken around 2:30 in the afternoon. Also known as naptime. Why did I decide that I should take a Christmas picture before naptime? Who knows. Maybe God knew that this adorable image of our son would be produced, after much crying and writhing. The reason you actually see a smile is because Owen thinks it is absolutely hilarious when Mommy runs back and forth, pushing buttons and flopping down on the floor beside him. And that's part of what being a Mommy is about I think. Amusing your children when all they want to do is cry or sleep or have that cool toy in the store or eat pancakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I'll try not make all of my blogs about being a mom and having an awesome son, but sometimes you just can't help it.

The Fat Guy in the Red Suit

Okay, so I know this is a bit controversial for my first actual contribution to the blog, but I've just got to comment on the old guy in the photo to the left who keeps trying to force his way into my life. Will and I have come to the decision to not introduce our two year old little boy to Santa. Will is turned off by the whole lying to your kid business, and I'm just ready for a refocusing of Christmas in my life. What has been the most surprising result of this decision is the way this seems to affect others. Everyone from the dental assistant to my mom seems uncomfortable with our choice. They either look at me like I'm crazy or try to defend their choice to celebrate the Famous Home Invader. Nevermind the fact that I reserve no judgment for Santa supporters. What's really funny is I NEVER initiate this conversation. Apparently, everyone wants to talk about Santa when you have a two year old. Strangers try to talk to our son about him in the grocery store, the hairdresser's, anywhere and everywhere. What the heck? Since when did we all decide to worship an old guy in a red suit and the stuff he delivers?

McDonalds? Burger King?

When I started this blog, I wanted to be sure to not make it all about my experiences with patients in the hospital for several reasons. First, with the number of people I see, I could blog all day. Second, HIPAA. Nuff said.

With that...I can't stand it when patients come into the ER and cry to me about how long they had to wait. Did they not see the other twenty people sitting in the waiting room with them? Do they think all the ambulances driving by are just visiting for fun? Seriously. Would you like fries with that?

Blogging is hard

Who knew that this would be this hard. I'm convinced the internet is the devil. So much information at your fingertips. Quick references to prove you are right and your wife is wrong. What could be so bad, right?

Homework. Sure, nobody is threatening me a failing grade if I don't update my blog with clever witticisms, but I have to compete with all the other good blogs out there. You three out there that might see this, you know who you are, I'm turning over a new leaf. Look out, here comes a big bucket of brain vomit your way.