"Ava just ate frog poop. Should I call poison control?"
This was an actual text message that I got from my wife this morning...word for word.
Many questions run through your mind when you get a text of this nature. For example:
- "How much frog poop did she eat?"
- "How hungry is a child who will eat frog poop?"
- "What will be next on the menu...a spoonful of ant bed?"
- "Is frog poop considered poisonous or just inappropriate?"
- "Would poison control make fun of me for making that call?"
- "Did she enjoy it?"
- "Did you detain the frog for questioning?"
- "Frogs poop???"
I think Brooke decided to do what Poison Control inevitably would have told her to do (and what they tell EVERYONE to do when they get a call like this):
"Just have her drink lots of water."
Evidently the cure for 99 out of 100 poisons is simply tap water.
Who knew.
I'm really not sure who to direct my disappointment towards in this situation. Here are my options:
1. My wife - I could direct my disappointment at Brooke for allowing this to happen. Where was she during the ingestion? Was she sipping a beverage? Was she sunbathing? Was she talking to some of her "good-timin' buddies" on the phone? Inexcusable. After all, I NEVER make mistakes with my children and I expect her to maintain that flawless record when I'm gone. I'm even thinking about writing a book called "Perfect Parenting Perfected by the Pates". Also, we all know that women who are 8 months pregnant can pretty much take any kind of criticism that you throw at them with poise, grace, and understanding. This is option #1...
2. My daughter - I could direct my disappointment at Ava for eating frog poop. This is simply not the expected behavior of a 16-month old child. I have to think about the future. If she can't be more mature than this, what is going to happen to her when she is out of our home? She will end up on the front page of the paper, with the headline: "18-Year Old 'Crazy' Breaks Into Local Zoo With a Fork & Is Caught Red-Handed Knee-Deep in Elephant Dung". I can't have that blight on my family name. This is option #2...
3. The frog - I could direct my disappointment at the frog for leaving his poop in my back yard. It's really his fault entirely, come to think of it. I have been very clear with the frogs about this matter. They are always welcome to visit our back yard, and even to visit our back porch, but they are not - under any circumstances - to defecate. I have put up small signs in all four corners of the back yard that say "Hey Frogs...NO POOPING!" Some may say, "Frogs can't read", but I believe that they're being naive. Kermit didn't get that smart being illiterate. This is option #3...
4. Myself - I could be disappointed in myself for allowing this to happen. If I were only a better husband, father, and frog-poop-preventer, we wouldn't be in this mess right now. I need to look into the mirror. I need to make this a family priority. We need to attend some lectures on frog behavior. I need to make bigger signs. I need to patrol the back yard at night with a flashlight and a baseball bat (just to threaten them...not to kill them). There is so much I could do to make sure that this never happens again. I am the problem. This is option #4...
5. The Neighbors - Where were they during this fiasco? I know there's a fence separating us, but what kind of neighbor lets that stop them from stopping their neighbor's kid from eating frog poop? What a pitiful display of neighboring. I should really report them. I would never let their child eat frog poop. I would jump the fence, punch the frog, and save the day. That's the kind of neighbor I am. This kind of thing never would have happened in the 50's. Our culture has just become so desensitized to these things. This is option #5...
6. Our Culture - This is really the problem. If we didn't live in a culture where frogs were allowed to poop freely wherever they please, and neighbors were allowed to live at an obscene level of delinquency, this kind of thing would have been stamped out decades ago. It's the internet's fault. If people weren't "surfing" and "texting" all the time, this kind of thing would come to the forefront. I'm pretty sure Bill Maher had something to do with it too. How about some legislation on this issue? How many kids will have to eat frog poop before the government gets involved? Two? Five? A million? These are difficult questions to answer.
Obviously, no one is to blame for this incident. Sometimes kids just eat frog poop and it's no one's fault. Why do we always feel like we have to blame things on people? When something bad happens; when our feelings are hurt; when a mistake is made; we tend to analyze and point the finger at someone. It must be someone's fault.
We do this in our families, at work, in sports, and even in the Church. We create blame for things that God would probably rather see us overlook or forgive.
As far as I know, Ava is fine. She isn't sick and she will live to eat something weirder another day. So I think I'll just get over it and move on.
I suggest that we all do the same.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Just A' Swingin'...
If you don't know by now, Brooke and I have a 16-month old daughter named Ava (and one on the way in June named Greta).
It's one of those infant swings where we buckle her in, so there's no way she can fall out of it as long as we use it properly (At least, I think so.)
She also prefers for me to push her from the front, since she can't see me when I stand behind her. It's a little tougher to push from the front, but I do it because I love her (and because she cries if I don't).
The other day, as I was swinging her, she closed her eyes, leaned her head back and smiled as big as I have ever seen her smile. She did that for several minutes. It almost made me cry (which is something I'm much more prone to do now that I have children, for some reason).
She was so happy and secure in that swing. Not a care in the world.
I think it was because she knew that her Daddy was right there. She knew that I was watching over her and that I was going to keep that swing going. She knew that there wasn't anything bad that could happen to her in that moment.
She was at peace.
In contrast to that...
Ava often wants me to swing her on the "big girl swing", which is a regular swing - right beside the other one - with only the rubber seat and the chains to hold on to.
A little later on the same day, we tried the "big girl swing", with Daddy holding her hands onto the chains and swinging her back and forth. Well, I thought I had her.
Until I didn't.
As I swung her back, she slid off of the seat and out of my grasp and fell - face down - onto the grass. She wasn't hurt, but she certainly wasn't "at peace."
She began to cry (it was a slow-building, gradual cry, because I don't think she knew if she was hurt or not) and I picked her up and held her close to me as she recovered. When I put her back down, she walked over slowly to the "big girl swing" and when she got to it, she quickly turned her back, yelled "No!" and ran the opposite direction.
She hasn't wanted back on that swing since.
See, even with Daddy's help, she isn't ready for that swing yet.
I'm grateful to God for giving me my children because I am already learning so many valuable lessons by being around them.
1. God understands us, even though our words & prayers must seem like "baby talk" to Him. Aren't you glad of that?
2. We are at peace, and we are truly secure when we are close to our Heavenly Father; when we realize that He is in control and that He will take care of us; when we are in our proper place and we are watching for His guidance in our lives. It's a great place to be.
3. We get into trouble, though, when we try to do things that we were never meant to do, things that are dangerous, or things that we're not ready for yet. We should realize by now that even God won't stop His children from falling from time to time, so that we can learn which "swings" are safe.
4. A good father doesn't stop his children from making mistakes (he knows that he can't), but he comforts them while they recover, and he helps them learn from those mistakes.
5. I am too big for either one of the swings in my backyard.
What a rip-off.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Fortune Cookie Faith...
First of all, I don't believe in the idea of a small, rather bland cookie with a slip of paper in it being able to predict my future. Let me make that perfectly clear at the outset.
But I do like fortune cookies. And it ain't because they're so delicious and satisfying. Because they aren't. They just seem lazy to me, as desserts go.
Did all the owners of the Chinese restaurants just get together one day and say:
"These Americans really seem to like their dessert, but I just don't feel like making any. What do you guys think we could do?"
"What if we just fried up a little cookie for them and wrapped it in plastic?"
"A cookie? You mean like, chocolate chip?"
"Not really. That's too much work. Maybe just some generic batter. And we could fry it up so hard that it could potentially crack their teeth."
[the restaurant owners nod, approvingly]
"I like it. Especially the cracked teeth part. How big would it be?"
"Maybe the size of a big moth?"
[grumbling is heard in the room, especially from the big-boned man in the corner, who is munching on a pecan pie]
"Hmmmm. I don't think they'll go for that. They like big cookies in this country."
"Ok...I got it...how about we put a slip of paper inside each one of them that predicts their future."
[optimism resurfaces]
"I think you might be onto something. But what if they figure out that we don't know what we're talking about?"
"We'll be vague. And we'll put numbers on the other side of the paper. And we'll give them as many as they want."
[thunderous applause ensues]
"Meeting adjourned. Now fire up the grease, get out your typewriters, and let's whip up some dessert!"
Why do I like fortune cookies, if it isn't for the taste? Because they make for good conversation.
Brooke and I almost always read our fortunes and discuss them with each other, if only to make fun of them. They can be the catalyst for hours of interesting dialogue...
"What does your fortune say, Brooke?"
"It says, 'Your winning personality will take you far in the near future.' What do you think that means?"
"I guess it means that you should hitchhike home and we'll find out if this is legit. If you smile real big and get a ride, then we need to buy a case of these things and start paying attention."
"Seriously? You'd let me do that?"
"Oh, don't be silly. Of course not. Only for a couple of miles. I'll wait for you at the Best Buy."
"But I'm pregnant!"
"That's right. I forgot. I'll make an 'I'm Pregnant' sign for you to tape to your belly and that way none of those 'crazies' will pick you up. And you should walk really slow down the highway...you know, because of the baby."
[Obviously, this is a joke conversation. I would never let my wife do this without having her phone with her]
Think of this, though: what if fortune cookies WERE for real? What if the information on that slip of paper actually had the power to predict what was going to happen in our life?
Would we pay more attention to them? Would we discard them so quickly? Wouldn't we spend hours, maybe even days, trying to decipher how they applied to our lives?
One of the most under-utilized parts of my faith is probably meditation. There are sections of Scripture that could fit into a fortune cookie - they literally only take seconds to read - but they require hours of meditation to truly comprehend and apply. They are powerful pieces of truth, packed with implications for my life - if only I will allow them the time to soak in.
How much more deeply would the Bible penetrate into our minds and lives if we simply thought about it more? There is a place for reading/studying large portions of God's Word in one sitting, but I believe there is also a place for taking one verse (or one PART of a verse) and simply thinking/meditating about it all day.
Praying about it and asking God to help you understand it.
Having conversations about it with your friends and family.
Asking questions about it to people you respect and trust.
Looking at it from different angles.
Applying it to your life...today...right now.
The Bible is a big book and it can be intimidating, but if we will break it into manageable sections and give it time to affect us, we will see its true power.
"For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart." - Hebrews 4:12
Think about that for a while:)
But I do like fortune cookies. And it ain't because they're so delicious and satisfying. Because they aren't. They just seem lazy to me, as desserts go.
Did all the owners of the Chinese restaurants just get together one day and say:
"These Americans really seem to like their dessert, but I just don't feel like making any. What do you guys think we could do?"
"What if we just fried up a little cookie for them and wrapped it in plastic?"
"A cookie? You mean like, chocolate chip?"
"Not really. That's too much work. Maybe just some generic batter. And we could fry it up so hard that it could potentially crack their teeth."
[the restaurant owners nod, approvingly]
"I like it. Especially the cracked teeth part. How big would it be?"
"Maybe the size of a big moth?"
[grumbling is heard in the room, especially from the big-boned man in the corner, who is munching on a pecan pie]
"Hmmmm. I don't think they'll go for that. They like big cookies in this country."
"Ok...I got it...how about we put a slip of paper inside each one of them that predicts their future."
[optimism resurfaces]
"I think you might be onto something. But what if they figure out that we don't know what we're talking about?"
"We'll be vague. And we'll put numbers on the other side of the paper. And we'll give them as many as they want."
[thunderous applause ensues]
"Meeting adjourned. Now fire up the grease, get out your typewriters, and let's whip up some dessert!"
Why do I like fortune cookies, if it isn't for the taste? Because they make for good conversation.
Brooke and I almost always read our fortunes and discuss them with each other, if only to make fun of them. They can be the catalyst for hours of interesting dialogue...
"What does your fortune say, Brooke?"
"It says, 'Your winning personality will take you far in the near future.' What do you think that means?"
"I guess it means that you should hitchhike home and we'll find out if this is legit. If you smile real big and get a ride, then we need to buy a case of these things and start paying attention."
"Seriously? You'd let me do that?"
"Oh, don't be silly. Of course not. Only for a couple of miles. I'll wait for you at the Best Buy."
"But I'm pregnant!"
"That's right. I forgot. I'll make an 'I'm Pregnant' sign for you to tape to your belly and that way none of those 'crazies' will pick you up. And you should walk really slow down the highway...you know, because of the baby."
[Obviously, this is a joke conversation. I would never let my wife do this without having her phone with her]
Think of this, though: what if fortune cookies WERE for real? What if the information on that slip of paper actually had the power to predict what was going to happen in our life?
Would we pay more attention to them? Would we discard them so quickly? Wouldn't we spend hours, maybe even days, trying to decipher how they applied to our lives?
One of the most under-utilized parts of my faith is probably meditation. There are sections of Scripture that could fit into a fortune cookie - they literally only take seconds to read - but they require hours of meditation to truly comprehend and apply. They are powerful pieces of truth, packed with implications for my life - if only I will allow them the time to soak in.
How much more deeply would the Bible penetrate into our minds and lives if we simply thought about it more? There is a place for reading/studying large portions of God's Word in one sitting, but I believe there is also a place for taking one verse (or one PART of a verse) and simply thinking/meditating about it all day.
Praying about it and asking God to help you understand it.
Having conversations about it with your friends and family.
Asking questions about it to people you respect and trust.
Looking at it from different angles.
Applying it to your life...today...right now.
The Bible is a big book and it can be intimidating, but if we will break it into manageable sections and give it time to affect us, we will see its true power.
"For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart." - Hebrews 4:12
Think about that for a while:)
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Swamp People?
I bought the first season of "Swamp People" on DVD a few weeks ago because it was on sale for $5 at Target and because I was bored.
I finished watching the last episode last night while Brooke was asleep.
What if I told you that, after watching that show, I think I could hunt alligators now?
It seems like all you really have to have is:
1. A boat
2. A cooler full of rotten meat
3. A line with a hook at the end of it
4. A gun (preferably loaded)
5. A cigarette hanging from your mouth (which may be optional...I hope so)
6. The ability to nickname alligators ("Godzilla", "Big Head", etc.)
OPTIONAL REQUIREMENTS SEEM TO BE:
- A strained relationship with your son/stepson
- A wife that you should probably be terrified of
- A propensity to fry pretty much everything you eat
- A pair of white rubber boots (really...white?)
- At least three missing teeth (in the front, preferably)
- One shirt.
I think I can do that.
I know some people with boats that I could borrow.
I have a cooler (and I think there's still some rotten meat in my fridge).
I can buy a line and a hook.
I have a gun.
I don't smoke, but I can make sunflower seed-chewing look pretty gross.
I can nickname alligators. Check these out..."Pee Wee", "Mrs. Butterworth", "Al Pacino", "Seth", etc. (I told you I could do it).
That's all there is to it, right? Wrong. The biggest part of alligator hunting (as far as I can tell) is being brave enough to do it (or being completely stupid enough to do it...either way, I'm not).
You wouldn't catch me in one of those boats unless you knocked me out with the boat oar and dragged me in while I was unconscious.
I wouldn't go near an alligator on purpose unless my wife or child was in danger (and even then, I'd try to negotiate from a distance first).
"Please don't hurt my wife or child, alligator."
"Hisssssss"
"Can we at least talk about it?"
"Hisssssss"
"I really think you're being unreasonable."
"Hisssssss"
"All right, that's it. I'm calling my lawyer. Don't move."
No, I really enjoy watching other people hunt alligators on my television screen, safely tucked under my covers while I bite my nails. But that's about it.
Alligator hunting, as I understand it, is not a spectator sport. You are either out in the boat, setting lines & dragging in alligators...or you're not. WATCHING it doesn't mean much of anything and it certainly doesn't prepare you to get out there and do it yourself. I don't think you'd get much respect from the actual alligator hunters just from watching their show either.
Christianity is similar. Although there are lots of people "on the sidelines" who seem to enjoy watching other people following Jesus, they aren't actually doing it themselves. They are observers. They are spectators. They are the audience. Christianity/religion is just a "show" that is for them to watch when they feel like it. They enjoy it, and they might even consider themselves to be a part of it. But they aren't.
Why? Because I said so? No, because Jesus said so. You see, no one can take up my cross and follow Jesus FOR me. No one can worship my God FOR me. No one can go through my life, making the difficult decisions and growing in my faith FOR me. No one can raise my kids to love the Lord FOR me. In short, no one can obey God FOR me.
It is not something you can watch and automatically be part of.
It is something you must live.
Many treat Christianity/the Church/Jesus like an episode of "Swamp People". We know enough about it that we can talk fairly intelligently about it (for example, I know that the "kill spot" on an alligator is a quarter-sized spot on the back of the head...they have told me that approximately 53 times on that show), but we simply aren't doing it.
On judgment day, there will be some who will be lost...not because they don't know a lot ABOUT God/Jesus/the Church/etc., but because they never did anything WITH that information.
So - metaphorically - get up early, put on your white rubber boots, kiss your terrifying wife goodbye, and go hunt some alligators!
Feel free to leave the cigarettes behind. Those things'll kill you.
I finished watching the last episode last night while Brooke was asleep.
What if I told you that, after watching that show, I think I could hunt alligators now?
It seems like all you really have to have is:
1. A boat
2. A cooler full of rotten meat
3. A line with a hook at the end of it
4. A gun (preferably loaded)
5. A cigarette hanging from your mouth (which may be optional...I hope so)
6. The ability to nickname alligators ("Godzilla", "Big Head", etc.)
OPTIONAL REQUIREMENTS SEEM TO BE:
- A strained relationship with your son/stepson
- A wife that you should probably be terrified of
- A propensity to fry pretty much everything you eat
- A pair of white rubber boots (really...white?)
- At least three missing teeth (in the front, preferably)
- One shirt.
I think I can do that.
I know some people with boats that I could borrow.
I have a cooler (and I think there's still some rotten meat in my fridge).
I can buy a line and a hook.
I have a gun.
I don't smoke, but I can make sunflower seed-chewing look pretty gross.
I can nickname alligators. Check these out..."Pee Wee", "Mrs. Butterworth", "Al Pacino", "Seth", etc. (I told you I could do it).
That's all there is to it, right? Wrong. The biggest part of alligator hunting (as far as I can tell) is being brave enough to do it (or being completely stupid enough to do it...either way, I'm not).
You wouldn't catch me in one of those boats unless you knocked me out with the boat oar and dragged me in while I was unconscious.
I wouldn't go near an alligator on purpose unless my wife or child was in danger (and even then, I'd try to negotiate from a distance first).
"Please don't hurt my wife or child, alligator."
"Hisssssss"
"Can we at least talk about it?"
"Hisssssss"
"I really think you're being unreasonable."
"Hisssssss"
"All right, that's it. I'm calling my lawyer. Don't move."
No, I really enjoy watching other people hunt alligators on my television screen, safely tucked under my covers while I bite my nails. But that's about it.
Alligator hunting, as I understand it, is not a spectator sport. You are either out in the boat, setting lines & dragging in alligators...or you're not. WATCHING it doesn't mean much of anything and it certainly doesn't prepare you to get out there and do it yourself. I don't think you'd get much respect from the actual alligator hunters just from watching their show either.
Christianity is similar. Although there are lots of people "on the sidelines" who seem to enjoy watching other people following Jesus, they aren't actually doing it themselves. They are observers. They are spectators. They are the audience. Christianity/religion is just a "show" that is for them to watch when they feel like it. They enjoy it, and they might even consider themselves to be a part of it. But they aren't.
Why? Because I said so? No, because Jesus said so. You see, no one can take up my cross and follow Jesus FOR me. No one can worship my God FOR me. No one can go through my life, making the difficult decisions and growing in my faith FOR me. No one can raise my kids to love the Lord FOR me. In short, no one can obey God FOR me.
It is not something you can watch and automatically be part of.
It is something you must live.
Many treat Christianity/the Church/Jesus like an episode of "Swamp People". We know enough about it that we can talk fairly intelligently about it (for example, I know that the "kill spot" on an alligator is a quarter-sized spot on the back of the head...they have told me that approximately 53 times on that show), but we simply aren't doing it.
On judgment day, there will be some who will be lost...not because they don't know a lot ABOUT God/Jesus/the Church/etc., but because they never did anything WITH that information.
So - metaphorically - get up early, put on your white rubber boots, kiss your terrifying wife goodbye, and go hunt some alligators!
Feel free to leave the cigarettes behind. Those things'll kill you.
Monday, April 23, 2012
DO YOUR JOB!!!
If you're offended by the word "poop", please do not continue reading...
What do you do with a product that is no longer doing its job?
We bought Arm & Hammer's version of a Diaper Genie when Ava was born (16 months ago) and it is no longer functioning properly [which is most likely the understatement of the millennium on however many galaxies we have now].
Let me put it this way: if this thing used to be called an "Arm & Hammer", it has now turned into a "Limp Wrist & Wet Noodle". The "Arm" is officially in atrophy and the "Hammer" has fled from the blistering odor of my child's poop.
This is a product that supposedly masks the smell of dirty diapers and keeps your baby's room smelling fresh and clean.
It does not do that anymore.
Not by a long shot.
Our child's room reeks of poop diapers. Every single time I walk in there I feel like I'm being punched in the face by poop. I'm not trying to sound gross, but if you're going to get my point, I must be frank about this.
The smell of poop has saturated the room.
I believe that close inspection will reveal that the blue walls of Ava's room are slowly turning brown. I believe that if I ran my finger along the inside of the faux Diaper Genie, I would have a finger-full of goo that smells exactly like fecal matter. I'm pretty sure that if I walked into her room with my mouth open and inhaled deeply...I would be knowingly committing suicide.
I honestly think that a grown man (let's say Mike, from "Swamp People") could use the bathroom (#2) directly into the Diaper Genie...multiple times perhaps...and it wouldn't smell any more like poop than it does right now.
Brooke can't even change the diaper bag anymore because she is afraid that she will pass out, drop our child, bang her head on the corner of the changing table, and wake up after a fecal-induced coma that has caused her to miss Ava's 4th birthday party.
"Mommy! Wake up! I got a new bicycle!"
I really don't understand it. We have put fresh baking soda into that thing several times; we have regularly changed the bags; we have kept the lid closed; we have sprayed enough air freshener in that room to disinfect a cow pasture; we have even put air fresheners INSIDE the diaper genie (which I'm pretty sure it has eaten).
What do you do with something that was supposed to HIDE the smell of poop and is now RADIATING it?
What good is it?
It is now a glorified, poop-scented trash can.
You might say, "Jeremy, why don't you buy a new one?"
I'll tell you why.
Because I already bought that one.
And I'm mad at it.
At this point, I think our child's room would smell less like poop if we just got rid of the Diaper Genie-knock-off and just started smacking the poop diapers against the wall and letting them dry and harden there.
Strangely enough, this reminds me of something that Jesus said once. He said that His followers were the "salt of the earth" and the "light of the world". That means that we have a very specific job to do that no one else can/will do.
We are supposed to be different. We are supposed to "flavor" and "illuminate" our sinful and fallen world.
So what happens when Jesus' followers are no longer doing their job? Probably the same thing that happens when my diaper pail quits doing ITS job...we become completely worthless.
These are basically the words that Jesus uses for us when we stop being "salt" and "light" in a tasteless and dark world. We are good for nothing. We might as well be thrown into the garbage. Read Matthew 5:13 and tell me that I'm exaggerating.
Not only is my diaper pail NOT doing its job...but it has now taken on the odor of the one thing that it was supposed to improve.
Not only have some Christians stopped proactively following Jesus, but they look, act, talk, and "smell" like the very world that so desperately needs them to be different.
It is damaging, disobedient, and quite frankly...disgusting.
Why don't we stop pretending that filling ourselves with "dirty diapers" isn't going to change the way we "smell"?
Why don't we stop pretending that as long as we have the right "label", we are doing our job, as Christians?
Why don't we take an honest look at ourselves, as followers of Jesus, and ask whether or not we are destined for the garbage?
Something to think about...for all of us.
By the way, I've got a well-used, broken-in, semi-dependable Arm & Hammer diaper pail that I'm trying to sell...cheap.
Do you think I should've mentioned that first?
What do you do with a product that is no longer doing its job?
We bought Arm & Hammer's version of a Diaper Genie when Ava was born (16 months ago) and it is no longer functioning properly [which is most likely the understatement of the millennium on however many galaxies we have now].
Let me put it this way: if this thing used to be called an "Arm & Hammer", it has now turned into a "Limp Wrist & Wet Noodle". The "Arm" is officially in atrophy and the "Hammer" has fled from the blistering odor of my child's poop.
This is a product that supposedly masks the smell of dirty diapers and keeps your baby's room smelling fresh and clean.
It does not do that anymore.
Not by a long shot.
Our child's room reeks of poop diapers. Every single time I walk in there I feel like I'm being punched in the face by poop. I'm not trying to sound gross, but if you're going to get my point, I must be frank about this.
The smell of poop has saturated the room.
I believe that close inspection will reveal that the blue walls of Ava's room are slowly turning brown. I believe that if I ran my finger along the inside of the faux Diaper Genie, I would have a finger-full of goo that smells exactly like fecal matter. I'm pretty sure that if I walked into her room with my mouth open and inhaled deeply...I would be knowingly committing suicide.
I honestly think that a grown man (let's say Mike, from "Swamp People") could use the bathroom (#2) directly into the Diaper Genie...multiple times perhaps...and it wouldn't smell any more like poop than it does right now.
Brooke can't even change the diaper bag anymore because she is afraid that she will pass out, drop our child, bang her head on the corner of the changing table, and wake up after a fecal-induced coma that has caused her to miss Ava's 4th birthday party.
"Mommy! Wake up! I got a new bicycle!"
I really don't understand it. We have put fresh baking soda into that thing several times; we have regularly changed the bags; we have kept the lid closed; we have sprayed enough air freshener in that room to disinfect a cow pasture; we have even put air fresheners INSIDE the diaper genie (which I'm pretty sure it has eaten).
What do you do with something that was supposed to HIDE the smell of poop and is now RADIATING it?
What good is it?
It is now a glorified, poop-scented trash can.
You might say, "Jeremy, why don't you buy a new one?"
I'll tell you why.
Because I already bought that one.
And I'm mad at it.
At this point, I think our child's room would smell less like poop if we just got rid of the Diaper Genie-knock-off and just started smacking the poop diapers against the wall and letting them dry and harden there.
Strangely enough, this reminds me of something that Jesus said once. He said that His followers were the "salt of the earth" and the "light of the world". That means that we have a very specific job to do that no one else can/will do.
We are supposed to be different. We are supposed to "flavor" and "illuminate" our sinful and fallen world.
So what happens when Jesus' followers are no longer doing their job? Probably the same thing that happens when my diaper pail quits doing ITS job...we become completely worthless.
These are basically the words that Jesus uses for us when we stop being "salt" and "light" in a tasteless and dark world. We are good for nothing. We might as well be thrown into the garbage. Read Matthew 5:13 and tell me that I'm exaggerating.
Not only is my diaper pail NOT doing its job...but it has now taken on the odor of the one thing that it was supposed to improve.
Not only have some Christians stopped proactively following Jesus, but they look, act, talk, and "smell" like the very world that so desperately needs them to be different.
It is damaging, disobedient, and quite frankly...disgusting.
Why don't we stop pretending that filling ourselves with "dirty diapers" isn't going to change the way we "smell"?
Why don't we stop pretending that as long as we have the right "label", we are doing our job, as Christians?
Why don't we take an honest look at ourselves, as followers of Jesus, and ask whether or not we are destined for the garbage?
Something to think about...for all of us.
By the way, I've got a well-used, broken-in, semi-dependable Arm & Hammer diaper pail that I'm trying to sell...cheap.
Do you think I should've mentioned that first?
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Set Adrift on Memory Bliss...
As a kid, my parents had a record player. My brother and I would play records and dance (mostly to Sly & the Family Stone's "Dance to the Music"). When the record started skipping, we would put pennies on top of the arm/needle to weigh it down (nickels, if it got really bad).
When I got older - in the eighties - and rap music came out, I accidentally scratched several of my parents' records because I thought that "scratching" was done by moving the needle (as it turns out, it is done by moving the record...too late, though, DJ Jazzy Jerm).
Records were really cool.
Then my parents bought an 8-track player. It was this cool device that you shoved a cartridge into and pushed one of 8 buttons to listen to one of 8 songs. I remember listening to David Soul and Captain & Tennille (who - unlike Sly & the Family Stone - did NOT make the transition onto my iPod, years later).
The 8-track was pretty cool. It didn't last long, though.
Then, as I got old enough to actually buy my own music, the cassette tape emerged. This was revolutionary because, with it, came the Walkman. Are you telling me that I can take my music WITH me and listen to it on yellow headphones now? Sign me up.
I bought hundreds of cassette tapes. I would spend my entire paycheck on them at the Sound Shop (the local audio store in the mall) and I even bought a case to carry them in.
Cassette tapes were awesome. And they lasted a while.
Then came cd's. I was reluctant because I had so much money tied up in my cassette tapes. But it didn't matter. Before long, nobody sold cassette tapes and I began to buy cd's. They used to come in those huge cardboard sleeves...remember those? What was the point of those? Probably to justify the $18.99 price tag.
"Hey Bill, these things cost nearly $20 and they ain't worth it. What should we do?"
"Wrap 'em in cardboard."
"We tried that. Even that won't justify this price."
"Then wrap them in twice as much cardboard as they actually need. Just don't lower that price. And stop bothering me...I've got a job interview at Exxon."
My first cd was PM Dawn (don't laugh, you know you liked that song). I sold my tapes at the local pawn shop for 25 cents each. It broke my heart.
As of today, I have about 700-800 cd's...and counting. And yes, I still have PM Dawn. Don't hate.
But another transition is happening.
Soon, there will be no more cd's. Everything will be digital (and I think there's a "cloud" involved...spooky) and I won't be able to buy cd's anymore. What a sad day that will be.
I suppose I will still listen to music, but it won't be the same. There is just something about opening that cd wrapper and trying to get the thing open without breaking the case...
My children will actually grow up in a world where they will never touch records, 8-tracks, cassettes, or cd's. Everything will be downloaded. Even DVD's and Blurays are about to be replaced with digital movies.
Aren't you glad that some things never change, though? Aren't you glad that God doesn't change? The Bible tells us that although everything around us may change, God doesn't.
I may or may not be able to teach my children how to properly open a cd case, but I will be able to teach them about their heavenly Father.
And even if we can't put the record on, I suppose that me and my girls can still plug in the ol' iPod and Dance to the Music...without needing pennies:)
When I got older - in the eighties - and rap music came out, I accidentally scratched several of my parents' records because I thought that "scratching" was done by moving the needle (as it turns out, it is done by moving the record...too late, though, DJ Jazzy Jerm).
Records were really cool.
Then my parents bought an 8-track player. It was this cool device that you shoved a cartridge into and pushed one of 8 buttons to listen to one of 8 songs. I remember listening to David Soul and Captain & Tennille (who - unlike Sly & the Family Stone - did NOT make the transition onto my iPod, years later).
The 8-track was pretty cool. It didn't last long, though.
Then, as I got old enough to actually buy my own music, the cassette tape emerged. This was revolutionary because, with it, came the Walkman. Are you telling me that I can take my music WITH me and listen to it on yellow headphones now? Sign me up.
I bought hundreds of cassette tapes. I would spend my entire paycheck on them at the Sound Shop (the local audio store in the mall) and I even bought a case to carry them in.
Cassette tapes were awesome. And they lasted a while.
Then came cd's. I was reluctant because I had so much money tied up in my cassette tapes. But it didn't matter. Before long, nobody sold cassette tapes and I began to buy cd's. They used to come in those huge cardboard sleeves...remember those? What was the point of those? Probably to justify the $18.99 price tag.
"Hey Bill, these things cost nearly $20 and they ain't worth it. What should we do?"
"Wrap 'em in cardboard."
"We tried that. Even that won't justify this price."
"Then wrap them in twice as much cardboard as they actually need. Just don't lower that price. And stop bothering me...I've got a job interview at Exxon."
My first cd was PM Dawn (don't laugh, you know you liked that song). I sold my tapes at the local pawn shop for 25 cents each. It broke my heart.
As of today, I have about 700-800 cd's...and counting. And yes, I still have PM Dawn. Don't hate.
But another transition is happening.
Soon, there will be no more cd's. Everything will be digital (and I think there's a "cloud" involved...spooky) and I won't be able to buy cd's anymore. What a sad day that will be.
I suppose I will still listen to music, but it won't be the same. There is just something about opening that cd wrapper and trying to get the thing open without breaking the case...
My children will actually grow up in a world where they will never touch records, 8-tracks, cassettes, or cd's. Everything will be downloaded. Even DVD's and Blurays are about to be replaced with digital movies.
Aren't you glad that some things never change, though? Aren't you glad that God doesn't change? The Bible tells us that although everything around us may change, God doesn't.
I may or may not be able to teach my children how to properly open a cd case, but I will be able to teach them about their heavenly Father.
And even if we can't put the record on, I suppose that me and my girls can still plug in the ol' iPod and Dance to the Music...without needing pennies:)
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Lifetime Supply...
If you didn't read my last post, you might want to read it before continuing with this one...
Go ahead, I'll wait.
I went into my office today to try and finish up some artwork that I have been working on all weekend and found a little surprise waiting for me.
Taped to my office door were several gold stars and some Q-tips.
[Seriously, if you haven't read the last post, this won't make any sense...this is your last chance]
I thought to myself, "Isn't that cute. Someone reads my blog and they thought they'd play a little prank on me. How thoughtful."
Then I opened my door.
It looked like a Q-tip bomb had exploded in my office. Not a Q-tip grenade, or a Q-tip land mine...a Q-tip bomb.
Q-tips were EVERYWHERE. They covered the floor, they were on my desk, in my chair, on my computer, in my drawers (not my underwear, my desk drawers...nobody is THAT sneaky), and even on my bookshelves.
There was even a plastic trash can on my desk with gold stars glued to the inside of it.
I immediately checked with the two ladies who were currently at the building to see if they were involved. They weren't.
They sure did laugh, though. I will remember that, ladies.
So I called Brooke [my wife]. She laughed and said that it was a couple of friends of ours [who shall remain nameless and shall be henceforth referred to only as "Alan" and "Cindy"...for their protection] and that they had done it yesterday.
Come to find out, they had deposited exactly 1875 Q-tips at various locations in my office.
Did I have this coming? Does Galatians 6:7 apply to me in this case? Am I an insensitive husband who was just "cruisin' for a Q-tippin'"?
Does it really matter?
No.
Brooke has been avenged - if anyone out there felt bad for her - but I would like to make a point here:
I believe that there is a double standard at work here.
Oh yes.
A big fat one.
See, if Brooke had blogged about ME missing the trash can with MY Q-tips, and I had given HER a sarcastic answer when she called ME on it, this would have gone very differently.
Because when a wife blogs about her husband doing stuff like that, she gets responses like:
"You ain't got to take that from no MAN!"
"Oh no he didn't!"
"You need to kick that man to the curb, girlfriend!"
"My husband does the same thing and I shot him straight-up in the face! You wanna borrow my gun, girl?"
Yes. You know I'm right.
And if she had blogged about that, you know what would have happened next?
That's right...
I STILL would have gotten Q-tipped!!!
Because when a husband blogs about his wife (even with her permission...which I didn't actually have, but I'm sure I could've gotten), he is automatically in the wrong.
It wouldn't have mattered if I had blogged about Brooke poisoning a small child for fun, someone would have said, "Jeremy, you really shouldn't talk about your wife like that. I'm sure that kid had it coming."
So you see, I just can't win.
Whatta world.
For the record, Brooke was never upset about my last blog. We have established an understanding on these matters:
1. I get to blog about her, within reason. And if I ever cross the line and actually upset her with a blog post...
2. She is going to kill me.
It seems to be working out so far.
By the way, this is also an open invitation to anyone in the Tuscaloosa area who needs their ears cleaned for the next 18 months.
We got you covered.
Go ahead, I'll wait.
I went into my office today to try and finish up some artwork that I have been working on all weekend and found a little surprise waiting for me.
Taped to my office door were several gold stars and some Q-tips.
[Seriously, if you haven't read the last post, this won't make any sense...this is your last chance]
I thought to myself, "Isn't that cute. Someone reads my blog and they thought they'd play a little prank on me. How thoughtful."
Then I opened my door.
It looked like a Q-tip bomb had exploded in my office. Not a Q-tip grenade, or a Q-tip land mine...a Q-tip bomb.
Q-tips were EVERYWHERE. They covered the floor, they were on my desk, in my chair, on my computer, in my drawers (not my underwear, my desk drawers...nobody is THAT sneaky), and even on my bookshelves.
There was even a plastic trash can on my desk with gold stars glued to the inside of it.
I immediately checked with the two ladies who were currently at the building to see if they were involved. They weren't.
They sure did laugh, though. I will remember that, ladies.
So I called Brooke [my wife]. She laughed and said that it was a couple of friends of ours [who shall remain nameless and shall be henceforth referred to only as "Alan" and "Cindy"...for their protection] and that they had done it yesterday.
Come to find out, they had deposited exactly 1875 Q-tips at various locations in my office.
Did I have this coming? Does Galatians 6:7 apply to me in this case? Am I an insensitive husband who was just "cruisin' for a Q-tippin'"?
Does it really matter?
No.
Brooke has been avenged - if anyone out there felt bad for her - but I would like to make a point here:
I believe that there is a double standard at work here.
Oh yes.
A big fat one.
See, if Brooke had blogged about ME missing the trash can with MY Q-tips, and I had given HER a sarcastic answer when she called ME on it, this would have gone very differently.
Because when a wife blogs about her husband doing stuff like that, she gets responses like:
"You ain't got to take that from no MAN!"
"Oh no he didn't!"
"You need to kick that man to the curb, girlfriend!"
"My husband does the same thing and I shot him straight-up in the face! You wanna borrow my gun, girl?"
Yes. You know I'm right.
And if she had blogged about that, you know what would have happened next?
That's right...
I STILL would have gotten Q-tipped!!!
Because when a husband blogs about his wife (even with her permission...which I didn't actually have, but I'm sure I could've gotten), he is automatically in the wrong.
It wouldn't have mattered if I had blogged about Brooke poisoning a small child for fun, someone would have said, "Jeremy, you really shouldn't talk about your wife like that. I'm sure that kid had it coming."
So you see, I just can't win.
Whatta world.
For the record, Brooke was never upset about my last blog. We have established an understanding on these matters:
1. I get to blog about her, within reason. And if I ever cross the line and actually upset her with a blog post...
2. She is going to kill me.
It seems to be working out so far.
By the way, this is also an open invitation to anyone in the Tuscaloosa area who needs their ears cleaned for the next 18 months.
We got you covered.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
She Shoots...She Misses...Again.
My wife threw a Q-tip at the garbage can in our bathroom this morning as I was on my way out. The garbage can is small and it is on the other side of the toilet (if you're trying to get a mental picture of our bathroom).
She missed. I saw it.
Well, let me be more specific: the trash can was so full that the Q-tip simply bounced off of the existing trash and onto the floor.
She acted like this was a surprise and said something like, "Man, I thought I made that shot". Then she shrugged her shoulders and walked away, leaving the Q-tip on the floor. I thought nothing of it at the time.
That is, until she asked me to empty the trash in the bathroom before I left for work. You see, she is very pregnant and can't really lift the trash, so I try to take it out on Mondays and Thursdays (because I'm incredibly strong...and not pregnant).
Anyway, as I lifted the trash can, I saw approximately 20 Q-tips on the floor (this is not an exaggeration, by the way).
Now, let me make something clear: I use Q-tips as well, but I'm pretty OCD about them and I PLACE them into the trash can when I'm finished with them (they were good enough to go into the deepest caverns of my ear and dig out my nasty wax...the least I can do is give them a proper burial). My wife, evidentally, has simply been chunking them in the general vicinity of the trash can and then shrugging her shoulders and walking off as they tumble to the floor in disgrace.
Do you know WHY she might be doing this? I believe that I do. It's because she knows that I'm the one (9 times out of 10, at least) who will be emptying that trash can.
So I called her on it this morning. Why? Because I like to start my day with a good ol' fashioned fight with my wife. I mean, who doesn't? It makes the rest of the day so much better.
So I took the trash into the kitchen - where she was sitting at the kitchen table - and told her how many Q-tips I had found on the floor.
I at least expected her to be ashamed.
She showed no remorse.
She was completely unaffected by the high Q-tip count (and presumably has no problem with 40 small deposits of ear wax on our bathroom floor either).
In fact, she began to heap on the sarcasm. She raised her eyebrows, nodded her head, and said something along the lines of:
"Really? 20? You counted them? Good for you. You can count to 20. Gold star for Jeremy for knowing how to count."
So I took a deep breath, nodded, took out the trash, ate my Nutri-Grain bar, kissed her on the cheek, told her I loved her, and went to work...but not before telling her that she had most likely inspired today's blog post. She didn't seem to care about that either.
What is the point of this story? Well, first of all, it reveals a side of my wife that few get to see, that I think they should see (the Q-tip-chuckin', shoulder-shruggin', sarcasm-heapin', gold star-promisin' side of her).
Secondly, though, it brings up a good point about sin.
Sometimes, we mess up, don't we? We try to do the right thing and we just don't, for whatever reason. Or we don't do something we should have done. We miss the mark. All of us. All the time.
I believe that God can handle that. He knows that we will do that. He will forgive us of those sins if we will admit them and do our best to turn from them (I John 1:5-10).
Then there's the other kind of sin. The "20 Q-tips on the floor & don't care about it" kind of sinning. We can get into the habit or practice of sinning, can't we? We miss the mark, we know we missed the mark, and we plan on continuing to miss the mark. Why? I'm not sure, but maybe because we mistakenly think that "God will clean that up".
The Bible says that he won't. Read I John 3:4-10, Hebrews 10:26-27, and Romans 6:1-2 (among others).
We need to be more careful about habitual sin, don't we? God has told us plainly what this kind of sin does to our relationship with Him. It separates us from Him. I don't think that any of us want that.
Let me make one thing perfectly clear, though: I will forgive my wife for chunking 20 Q-tips onto the floor, because I love her...
...after I get my gold star.
She missed. I saw it.
Well, let me be more specific: the trash can was so full that the Q-tip simply bounced off of the existing trash and onto the floor.
She acted like this was a surprise and said something like, "Man, I thought I made that shot". Then she shrugged her shoulders and walked away, leaving the Q-tip on the floor. I thought nothing of it at the time.
That is, until she asked me to empty the trash in the bathroom before I left for work. You see, she is very pregnant and can't really lift the trash, so I try to take it out on Mondays and Thursdays (because I'm incredibly strong...and not pregnant).
Anyway, as I lifted the trash can, I saw approximately 20 Q-tips on the floor (this is not an exaggeration, by the way).
Now, let me make something clear: I use Q-tips as well, but I'm pretty OCD about them and I PLACE them into the trash can when I'm finished with them (they were good enough to go into the deepest caverns of my ear and dig out my nasty wax...the least I can do is give them a proper burial). My wife, evidentally, has simply been chunking them in the general vicinity of the trash can and then shrugging her shoulders and walking off as they tumble to the floor in disgrace.
Do you know WHY she might be doing this? I believe that I do. It's because she knows that I'm the one (9 times out of 10, at least) who will be emptying that trash can.
So I called her on it this morning. Why? Because I like to start my day with a good ol' fashioned fight with my wife. I mean, who doesn't? It makes the rest of the day so much better.
So I took the trash into the kitchen - where she was sitting at the kitchen table - and told her how many Q-tips I had found on the floor.
I at least expected her to be ashamed.
She showed no remorse.
She was completely unaffected by the high Q-tip count (and presumably has no problem with 40 small deposits of ear wax on our bathroom floor either).
In fact, she began to heap on the sarcasm. She raised her eyebrows, nodded her head, and said something along the lines of:
"Really? 20? You counted them? Good for you. You can count to 20. Gold star for Jeremy for knowing how to count."
So I took a deep breath, nodded, took out the trash, ate my Nutri-Grain bar, kissed her on the cheek, told her I loved her, and went to work...but not before telling her that she had most likely inspired today's blog post. She didn't seem to care about that either.
What is the point of this story? Well, first of all, it reveals a side of my wife that few get to see, that I think they should see (the Q-tip-chuckin', shoulder-shruggin', sarcasm-heapin', gold star-promisin' side of her).
Secondly, though, it brings up a good point about sin.
Sometimes, we mess up, don't we? We try to do the right thing and we just don't, for whatever reason. Or we don't do something we should have done. We miss the mark. All of us. All the time.
I believe that God can handle that. He knows that we will do that. He will forgive us of those sins if we will admit them and do our best to turn from them (I John 1:5-10).
Then there's the other kind of sin. The "20 Q-tips on the floor & don't care about it" kind of sinning. We can get into the habit or practice of sinning, can't we? We miss the mark, we know we missed the mark, and we plan on continuing to miss the mark. Why? I'm not sure, but maybe because we mistakenly think that "God will clean that up".
The Bible says that he won't. Read I John 3:4-10, Hebrews 10:26-27, and Romans 6:1-2 (among others).
We need to be more careful about habitual sin, don't we? God has told us plainly what this kind of sin does to our relationship with Him. It separates us from Him. I don't think that any of us want that.
Let me make one thing perfectly clear, though: I will forgive my wife for chunking 20 Q-tips onto the floor, because I love her...
...after I get my gold star.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
How About a Delicious Beverage?
I like chocolate milk.
There are several brands/kinds of pre-made chocolate milk that are pretty good (NesQuick is my personal favorite. I like that rabbit.), but there is nothing as good as making your own.
The recipe is quite simple:
- 1 glass of whole milk (2% is acceptable...I guess...but anything less than that...I mean, come on...if you can't drink REAL milk, you probably don't need to drink CHOCOLATE milk...sissy.)
- 1 bottle/container/tub of chocolate sauce/powder/syrup (I usually use Hershey's, but I have used NesQuick, Ovaltine, and others as well. This recipe will proceed with a bottle of Hershey's as the example)
- Place glass of milk on hard surface and hold bottle of Hershey's syrup with:
- 1 hand & be prepared to stir with the other as you squeeze OR...
- 2 hands, for maximum squeezing power & you can stir later
[Personally, I like to watch the milk turn chocolate all at once - I feel like a low-level magician - so I squeeze with both hands. The time that you save by doing the two-handed squeeze more than makes up for the fact that you haven't stirred yet; this is simply my opinion and not chocolate milk doctrine]
- Squeeze syrup into milk & stir until you reach the desired level of chocolate infiltration (you want the milk to do a "reverse Michael Jackson", if that helps).
- Take a sip (not a gulp, mind you, because if you haven't made it chocolatey enough, you have gulped down a big waste of some potentially good chocolate milk)
- Add syrup, as needed.
My wife made a glass this morning and I seriously thought that she had left the milk out and had just used syrup. It was the darkest glass of chocolate milk I have ever seen.
My wife don't play around when it comes to chocolate milk. She just don't.
Granted, she used Hershey's Special Dark syrup, but regardless...I seriously doubt that we will get more than a "wheeze & a sputter" out of that bottle next time we try to use it.
You can believe that she enjoyed that chocolate milk, though. She didn't really need to do the "Pre-gulp Sip" that we talked about earlier. That milk was definitely chocolate.
Technically, I suppose that a person could put just a drop of Hershey's syrup into their milk and call it "chocolate milk", but why would you do such a thing?
Why would you settle for a DROP of chocolate syrup when two INCHES of it makes it so much better?
Why would you even bother making chocolate milk if you don't want it to taste like chocolate? Here are some possibilities:
1. You are being pressured by others to drink chocolate milk, although you would rather not.
2. Your entire family drinks chocolate milk and, at family gatherings, they bring huge tubs of Hershey's syrup and look at you funny if you don't join in.
3. You have heard that chocolate milk is really good, but you're afraid to go "all in", so you're just dabbling in it.
4. You are tired of people asking you "Do you drink chocolate milk?", because when you answer "No", they always say, "Oh, you've GOT to try it! Come on over to my house and I'll make you the absolute best glass of chocolate milk you've ever had! Get in the car!" So you have given in...but not wholeheartedly.
Let's make an application:
How much Jesus do you put into your life?
How much of His teachings, His example, His Word, and His mind have we put into our lives? Our answer will tell us the reason why we even bother with Him at all.
Do we just want a little "drop" of Jesus, so that we can call ourselves a "Christian"? So that we can fit in with other "Christians"? So that we can say that we have Jesus without having Him really affect our lives? So that we can ease our conscience a bit and not be as afraid of eternity? So that we can experience a taste of God, but no more?
Let me encourage you - metaphorically - to grab onto Jesus with both hands and "squeeze" Him into your life. If we want to experience the abundant life that He has promised, there is no substitute for having Him "infiltrate" our lives...in large amounts.
In fact, if we DON'T give Jesus everything; if we DON'T die to our own desires and live for Him; if we don't have a "glass of milk" that has visibly "changed colors"...we really shouldn't call ourselves "Christians", should we?
In the Bible, they called people "Christians" who were actually following Jesus. They were His disciples. They wouldn't settle for a "drop". They wanted to drain the bottle.
No analogy is perfect, but maybe you get the point of this one:)
So pour, squeeze, stir...squeeze again...and enjoy!
[And by the way, no offense meant to Michael Jackson. I have all his albums.]
There are several brands/kinds of pre-made chocolate milk that are pretty good (NesQuick is my personal favorite. I like that rabbit.), but there is nothing as good as making your own.
The recipe is quite simple:
- 1 glass of whole milk (2% is acceptable...I guess...but anything less than that...I mean, come on...if you can't drink REAL milk, you probably don't need to drink CHOCOLATE milk...sissy.)
- 1 bottle/container/tub of chocolate sauce/powder/syrup (I usually use Hershey's, but I have used NesQuick, Ovaltine, and others as well. This recipe will proceed with a bottle of Hershey's as the example)
- Place glass of milk on hard surface and hold bottle of Hershey's syrup with:
- 1 hand & be prepared to stir with the other as you squeeze OR...
- 2 hands, for maximum squeezing power & you can stir later
[Personally, I like to watch the milk turn chocolate all at once - I feel like a low-level magician - so I squeeze with both hands. The time that you save by doing the two-handed squeeze more than makes up for the fact that you haven't stirred yet; this is simply my opinion and not chocolate milk doctrine]
- Squeeze syrup into milk & stir until you reach the desired level of chocolate infiltration (you want the milk to do a "reverse Michael Jackson", if that helps).
- Take a sip (not a gulp, mind you, because if you haven't made it chocolatey enough, you have gulped down a big waste of some potentially good chocolate milk)
- Add syrup, as needed.
My wife made a glass this morning and I seriously thought that she had left the milk out and had just used syrup. It was the darkest glass of chocolate milk I have ever seen.
My wife don't play around when it comes to chocolate milk. She just don't.
Granted, she used Hershey's Special Dark syrup, but regardless...I seriously doubt that we will get more than a "wheeze & a sputter" out of that bottle next time we try to use it.
You can believe that she enjoyed that chocolate milk, though. She didn't really need to do the "Pre-gulp Sip" that we talked about earlier. That milk was definitely chocolate.
Technically, I suppose that a person could put just a drop of Hershey's syrup into their milk and call it "chocolate milk", but why would you do such a thing?
Why would you settle for a DROP of chocolate syrup when two INCHES of it makes it so much better?
Why would you even bother making chocolate milk if you don't want it to taste like chocolate? Here are some possibilities:
1. You are being pressured by others to drink chocolate milk, although you would rather not.
2. Your entire family drinks chocolate milk and, at family gatherings, they bring huge tubs of Hershey's syrup and look at you funny if you don't join in.
3. You have heard that chocolate milk is really good, but you're afraid to go "all in", so you're just dabbling in it.
4. You are tired of people asking you "Do you drink chocolate milk?", because when you answer "No", they always say, "Oh, you've GOT to try it! Come on over to my house and I'll make you the absolute best glass of chocolate milk you've ever had! Get in the car!" So you have given in...but not wholeheartedly.
Let's make an application:
How much Jesus do you put into your life?
How much of His teachings, His example, His Word, and His mind have we put into our lives? Our answer will tell us the reason why we even bother with Him at all.
Do we just want a little "drop" of Jesus, so that we can call ourselves a "Christian"? So that we can fit in with other "Christians"? So that we can say that we have Jesus without having Him really affect our lives? So that we can ease our conscience a bit and not be as afraid of eternity? So that we can experience a taste of God, but no more?
Let me encourage you - metaphorically - to grab onto Jesus with both hands and "squeeze" Him into your life. If we want to experience the abundant life that He has promised, there is no substitute for having Him "infiltrate" our lives...in large amounts.
In fact, if we DON'T give Jesus everything; if we DON'T die to our own desires and live for Him; if we don't have a "glass of milk" that has visibly "changed colors"...we really shouldn't call ourselves "Christians", should we?
In the Bible, they called people "Christians" who were actually following Jesus. They were His disciples. They wouldn't settle for a "drop". They wanted to drain the bottle.
No analogy is perfect, but maybe you get the point of this one:)
So pour, squeeze, stir...squeeze again...and enjoy!
[And by the way, no offense meant to Michael Jackson. I have all his albums.]
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Well, It's Prom Season Again...
DISCLAIMER: I have no desire to enter into a debate/argument/heated discussion about this issue. If you disagree with the contents of this blog (which I'm sure you can anticipate already), please feel free to discontinue reading now...you won't hurt my feelings...
Let me start with a question:
How many of you would go skydiving?
Your answer (whether you like it or not) reveals a bit about your personality. You are either somewhat of a risk-taker or you prefer to play it safe.
Or your wife has told you that you can't go.
Neither one of these personality traits is inherently bad or wrong, but they are very different, aren't they?
Let's add something to this scenario, though...
What if you really wanted to go skydiving (you’ve already paid for it, you’ve cleared your schedule at work, you’ve asked your parents, wife, etc.), but you found out one or more of the following pieces of information:
o The pilot is drunk (not "tipsy" or "buzzed", but "hammered")
o The gas gauge is broken on the plane
o Your parachute has been packed improperly
o They’re replacing your parachute with a large umbrella (made of lace)
Would it matter WHEN you found out this information? Unless you had already jumped out of the plane, would it matter who you inconvenienced (pilot, crew, co-skydivers, your bank account, etc.) by canceling your skydiving appointment? Why? Because your LIFE is a bit more important than this experience, right?
There are those who are “brave” enough to go skydiving, but you’d have to be a very special combination of brave, stubborn, risky and just plain dumb to do it AFTER you found out any of this information, right?
Prom is upon us. I've seen the limos, dresses, tuxes, and stress-related zits, so I know it's here. It carries with it its own particular set of attractions and risks.
It isn't hard to figure out why young people WANT to go to Prom, is it? To summarize (in my opinion, obviously)...
1. Girls like getting dressed up.
2. Boys like girls.
3. That's it.
We would all love to pretend that Prom is no big deal. We would all love to sanitize it and say that it is just "good, clean fun". I'm all for good, clean fun....but I'm afraid that we would all be very wrong about that when it comes to Prom.
The fact of the matter is that Prom involves significant spiritual risks (which are not the only kinds of risks involved, but they're the only kind I'll focus on here).
Should the child of God have a different view, not only of Prom, but of everything? Take a look (on your own time) at Eph. 4:22-24; I Peter 1:13-19; Romans 12:1-2; Ephesians 5:1-17; I Thess. 5:21-22
Based on the above-mentioned verses (and the modern Prom experience), how would you describe the proper approach of the Christian to his/her life (which I believe would include Prom)?
Now, before you get up-in-arms at the uptight, out-of-touch minister, let's ask another question:
Are we PICKING on Prom?
I mean, come on. Let’s be honest, in the grand scheme of things, Prom is one night...it's one decision, right? I mean, could one night really make that much difference? Hmmmm. Why not ask:
- David & Bathsheba (1 night = adultery, unplanned pregnancy, deceit, murder, & a dead child)
- Samson (1 night = betrayal, end of a relationship, unwanted buzz cut, eyes gouged out, & a new job....in jail)
- Judas (1 night = wrong crowd, kissing [not in a good way], betrayal, regret, a rope, a tree & an eternity to think about it)
Ultimately (on some level), whether or not someone decides to go to Prom (and WHY) is no more important than 1,000 other decisions they make this year, but let's not try to take the sin out of Prom; it’s impossible.
- When girls dress in beautiful, tight-fitting clothing (which almost always reveals parts of their bodies that no one has seen yet)....
- When they fix their hair & make-up like a model or movie star....
- When they dance in close proximity to a teenage boy....
Believe me when I tell you (from personal experience)....Satan is there. Sin is "crouching at the door". If you don't think so, ask any honest male. He will tell you the truth.
Sometimes young people (even parents) say, "We only get to do this twice in our lifetime; it's special; it's a rite of passage; etc."
Let me respond, to those who would call themselves Christians: You only get two chances in your lifetime to make the right decision about Prom. Make sure that you try to do that.
If only there was a once-in-a-lifetime event that young people could look forward to where they could dress up really nice, get into a limo, go to a beautiful event focused only on them, eat good food, and spend time with a special someone....
Oh, that's right. There is. Their wedding.
If we were a little more concerned about not ruining THAT event, we might be more careful about events that have the potential to do just that.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Happy Birth/Tax Day...
Today is my wife's birthday.
We celebrated yesterday by having some pictures taken at the Botanical Gardens and then having dinner at P.F. Chang's; and although Ava has had better days, Brooke and I really enjoyed it.
Brooke has the misfortune of having her birthday fall on April 15....tax day.
Tax day is not necessarily the best day to be born. It's different from being born on Christmas or New Year's, which are associated with pleasant things like peppermint and confetti. If your birthday is on/near a holiday (or even a regular day), most people are in the mood to celebrate with you.
Tax day is different.
For her entire life, I'm sure Brooke has had these conversations on her birthday:
"Hey, it's my birthday!"
"Congratulations. I owe the government $4000.00."
"I'm sorry. Would you like some cake?"
"Yes."
[not many people turn down a piece of cake, no matter what day it is.]
Before we were married, I have to confess that I would procrastinate getting my taxes done almost up until the very last moment. I had no reason to finish them early. So for me, April 15th loomed like a old, angry woman with a smoker's cough, breathing down my neck. I even had to file for an extension several times, making April 15th an old, angry woman with a smoker's cough, breathing down my neck...who could die any moment; which made her just plain surly.
After our marriage, however, I really wanted to be in the frame of mind to celebrate the birth of my wife without Aunt Marlboro (yes, we had pet names for each other), so I began taking care of my taxes early. This was difficult for me since I had never really done it, but it made Brooke's birthday more special and less tax-related.
I did our taxes this year in February. We had our refund in March. And even though we celebrated last night with the last few dollars of that refund, we celebrated without thinking about taxes a single time.
How many important things do we miss - if only in our hearts - because of something else? How many times has something urgent taken the place of something important?
Are we ready to meet the Lord when He returns? If we want that to be a day of celebration and joy, instead of a gigantic "Tax Day" on steroids, it would be wise for us to make the preparations now, so that we can enjoy it then.
So enjoy tax day/Brooke's birthday today and if you didn't care for today's blog, remember...it's not my fault...it's tax day and you're just in a bad mood.
We celebrated yesterday by having some pictures taken at the Botanical Gardens and then having dinner at P.F. Chang's; and although Ava has had better days, Brooke and I really enjoyed it.
Brooke has the misfortune of having her birthday fall on April 15....tax day.
Tax day is not necessarily the best day to be born. It's different from being born on Christmas or New Year's, which are associated with pleasant things like peppermint and confetti. If your birthday is on/near a holiday (or even a regular day), most people are in the mood to celebrate with you.
Tax day is different.
For her entire life, I'm sure Brooke has had these conversations on her birthday:
"Hey, it's my birthday!"
"Congratulations. I owe the government $4000.00."
"I'm sorry. Would you like some cake?"
"Yes."
[not many people turn down a piece of cake, no matter what day it is.]
Before we were married, I have to confess that I would procrastinate getting my taxes done almost up until the very last moment. I had no reason to finish them early. So for me, April 15th loomed like a old, angry woman with a smoker's cough, breathing down my neck. I even had to file for an extension several times, making April 15th an old, angry woman with a smoker's cough, breathing down my neck...who could die any moment; which made her just plain surly.
After our marriage, however, I really wanted to be in the frame of mind to celebrate the birth of my wife without Aunt Marlboro (yes, we had pet names for each other), so I began taking care of my taxes early. This was difficult for me since I had never really done it, but it made Brooke's birthday more special and less tax-related.
I did our taxes this year in February. We had our refund in March. And even though we celebrated last night with the last few dollars of that refund, we celebrated without thinking about taxes a single time.
How many important things do we miss - if only in our hearts - because of something else? How many times has something urgent taken the place of something important?
Are we ready to meet the Lord when He returns? If we want that to be a day of celebration and joy, instead of a gigantic "Tax Day" on steroids, it would be wise for us to make the preparations now, so that we can enjoy it then.
So enjoy tax day/Brooke's birthday today and if you didn't care for today's blog, remember...it's not my fault...it's tax day and you're just in a bad mood.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Just Keepin' It Real...
As I was folding my 16-month-old daughter's clothes last night, I noticed how many of them have something written on them.
"I Love My Mommy"
"Daddy's Little Lamb"
"Big Sister"
"Hug Me"
Why do we do this? Why do we project things that we HOPE our kids are thinking onto their clothing? I can tell you from first-hand experience that my daughter doesn't always want a hug. She lets you know by saying "No!" and then pushing away from you with all of her baby strength (she has left bruises on my neck). How about a shirt that says, "Hug Me, If I'm In the Mood"; that would be better.
I saw a little boy the other day with a shirt on that said, "Daddy's Little Cowboy". What if that kid wants to be an accountant? Or a computer technician? When the kid grows up, will they have this conversation?
"Dad, I've decided I want to be an accountant."
"I'm so disappointed, son."
"Why, Dad?"
"I really thought you were going to be my little cowboy."
"Cowboy? I've never wanted to be a cowboy. What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb, son. You wore a shirt. You said you'd be my little cowboy. I bought you a horse today. He's in the garage. His name is Teddy."
"What? I don't want a horse, Dad. I don't want to be a cowboy."
[pause for effect as Dad gets red-faced, stands up and points]
"YOU WORE A SHIRT!!!"
What if we wrote more honest things on kids' clothing, just to keep it real. Things like...oh, I don't know...
"My Mommy Has Low Self Esteem"
"My Daddy is Trying to Re-live His Childhood Through Me"
"I Poop 3 Times a Day & Don't Have To Clean It Up"
"I Am the Reason My Parents Haven't Been Intimate in Several Months"
"I Drink My Own Bath Water"
"I Am the Most Powerful Person in This House"
Stuff like that.
I'm not saying that my daughter DOESN'T love her Mommy (who wouldn't?), but how about letting HER come up with that on her own?
Don't get me wrong, I will continue to dress my child in these tiny, mandatory billboards-for-babies, because all of our money is going to diapers and food and I can't afford to buy anything else.
I just thought I would mention it.
I have also noticed - related to this - that when we are raising our children, we are tempted to project things onto them that don't belong to them. Our guilt, our fears, our past experiences, our unfulfilled hopes and dreams, our hobbies, our interests, etc.
We need to be careful about this, especially when it comes to their faith. It is our job to train up our children, spiritually, but they can't have our faith. They must have their own.
If I were to buy my teenage daughter (12 years from now) a shirt that says, "My Parents Are Awesome!!", she probably wouldn't wear it.
But if we try our best to be the best parents we can be, she will probably at least THINK it...at some point.
If she doesn't, I'll buy her a shirt that says, "I'm an Ungrateful Teenager." By that time, gas will be so high that she'll either have to wear it or get a job. Either way, I win.
"I Love My Mommy"
"Daddy's Little Lamb"
"Big Sister"
"Hug Me"
Why do we do this? Why do we project things that we HOPE our kids are thinking onto their clothing? I can tell you from first-hand experience that my daughter doesn't always want a hug. She lets you know by saying "No!" and then pushing away from you with all of her baby strength (she has left bruises on my neck). How about a shirt that says, "Hug Me, If I'm In the Mood"; that would be better.
I saw a little boy the other day with a shirt on that said, "Daddy's Little Cowboy". What if that kid wants to be an accountant? Or a computer technician? When the kid grows up, will they have this conversation?
"Dad, I've decided I want to be an accountant."
"I'm so disappointed, son."
"Why, Dad?"
"I really thought you were going to be my little cowboy."
"Cowboy? I've never wanted to be a cowboy. What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb, son. You wore a shirt. You said you'd be my little cowboy. I bought you a horse today. He's in the garage. His name is Teddy."
"What? I don't want a horse, Dad. I don't want to be a cowboy."
[pause for effect as Dad gets red-faced, stands up and points]
"YOU WORE A SHIRT!!!"
What if we wrote more honest things on kids' clothing, just to keep it real. Things like...oh, I don't know...
"My Mommy Has Low Self Esteem"
"My Daddy is Trying to Re-live His Childhood Through Me"
"I Poop 3 Times a Day & Don't Have To Clean It Up"
"I Am the Reason My Parents Haven't Been Intimate in Several Months"
"I Drink My Own Bath Water"
"I Am the Most Powerful Person in This House"
Stuff like that.
I'm not saying that my daughter DOESN'T love her Mommy (who wouldn't?), but how about letting HER come up with that on her own?
Don't get me wrong, I will continue to dress my child in these tiny, mandatory billboards-for-babies, because all of our money is going to diapers and food and I can't afford to buy anything else.
I just thought I would mention it.
I have also noticed - related to this - that when we are raising our children, we are tempted to project things onto them that don't belong to them. Our guilt, our fears, our past experiences, our unfulfilled hopes and dreams, our hobbies, our interests, etc.
We need to be careful about this, especially when it comes to their faith. It is our job to train up our children, spiritually, but they can't have our faith. They must have their own.
If I were to buy my teenage daughter (12 years from now) a shirt that says, "My Parents Are Awesome!!", she probably wouldn't wear it.
But if we try our best to be the best parents we can be, she will probably at least THINK it...at some point.
If she doesn't, I'll buy her a shirt that says, "I'm an Ungrateful Teenager." By that time, gas will be so high that she'll either have to wear it or get a job. Either way, I win.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Yes, It Was THAT Bad...
As you may or may not know, I am a fan of comics & super-heroes. To give you some indication of my fanboy-ness, I was at the premier of the 1989 "Batman" movie, wearing:
1. A Batman hat
2. A Batman T-shirt
3. A hand-made, spray-painted, 8-inch wide wooden Bat Signal "necklace" (does it still qualify as a necklace if you use rope?)
4. A pair of acid-washed jeans that I had hand-drawn/colored all over (with Batman comics)
5. An acid-washed jean jacket that was also covered with hand-drawn/colored Batman drawings PLUS approximately 20 Batman buttons that I had been collecting from the local music store in the mall.
To top it all off, I was 15 at the time....not 7.
After that first Batman movie, they seemed to get progressively worse, in my opinion.
Batman Returns was still good, but getting cheesy (we're supposed to believe that a nerdy, awkward woman can fall out of a building onto the pavement, get licked by cats for a while, and suddenly knows gymnastics? It's insulting to the audience, to gymnasts, and quite frankly, to cats.)
Batman Forever began to be officially over-the-top, although I enjoyed it. Jim Carrey was good, but Tommy Lee Jones was a bad choice. He didn't even really need make-up to play Two-Face (I think the make-up was actually the GOOD side of his face...that guy's ugly).
And then there's Batman and Robin. I threw up in my popcorn bucket on that one. It was just bad. If Batman Forever was over-the-top, Batman and Robin pole-vaulted over the top, and cleared it by 97,043 miles. I bought the DVD, just to complete my collection, but I haven't watched it in years.
Until last night.
I decided to give it another try. Was it really as bad as I remembered? Has it gotten a bad reputation for no good reason? Had I been too tough on it after my first viewing? I tend to do that with movies. So I settled in with a bowl of generic-brand Cocoa Pebbles (which was packaged in a 15-pound sack, for some reason) and popped it in.
I was right the first time. Boy, was I right.
Within the first 15 minutes of the movie:
1. We see Batman and Robin's butts (not naked, but I can't imagine it being much worse).
2. The first line (if I'm not mistaken) is Robin saying, "I like the car...chicks dig the car." Not good.
3. Batman, Robin, and the generic thugs of Mr. Freeze play hockey with a diamond...and everyone had conveniently brought their hockey sticks for some reason...
4. Batman and Robin then activate the ice skates that they have cleverly installed in their boots, for such an occasion (although they didn't find out that the bad guy was named "Mr. Freeze" until they were in the car - which is another story - on the way to fight him). They anticipate having to ice-skate at some point in their crime-fighting duties??? I blame Tonya Harding.
5. After blowing up Mr. Freeze's skyrocket with a Bat-bomb, Batman and Robin SURF back down to the ground (from 30,000 feet or so), using the doors from the skyrocket. Wow. Honestly, this little gem of a scene made Catwoman's transformation look like a documentary.
6. Mr. Freeze makes approximately 82 puns, threats, comments, etc. and they ALL reference something to do with the cold: "I'm afraid my condition has left me cold to your pleas of mercy"..."Ice to see you"..."Allow me to break the ice. My name is Freeze. Learn it well, for it's the chilling sound of your doom"...I'm not making these up.
I finished watching the movie, but - for the life of me - I can't tell you why. It was like watching a reality show, just to see the mess.
Some things in life actually ARE as bad as we remember them. So why do we continue to go back to some of those things, over and over? Why do we revisit them, thinking/hoping that we were wrong? When a dish of food in my refrigerator goes bad, I throw it away (if I notice it); I don't leave it in there, thinking, "That'll be DELICIOUS next month!"
When it comes to bad habits, bad relationships, and - in general - sin, we should probably just trust our first experiences, leave those things behind, and move on. As God's Word says, we need to put those things to death, not preserve them for future enjoyment.
To wrap this up, the Batman movies DID get better, but only when they went in a COMPLETELY different direction (starting with Batman Begins).
If our lives are headed towards the spiritual equivalent of "Batman and Robin", we might want to rethink our direction.
Nobody wants to see that.
Well, almost nobody.
1. A Batman hat
2. A Batman T-shirt
3. A hand-made, spray-painted, 8-inch wide wooden Bat Signal "necklace" (does it still qualify as a necklace if you use rope?)
4. A pair of acid-washed jeans that I had hand-drawn/colored all over (with Batman comics)
5. An acid-washed jean jacket that was also covered with hand-drawn/colored Batman drawings PLUS approximately 20 Batman buttons that I had been collecting from the local music store in the mall.
To top it all off, I was 15 at the time....not 7.
After that first Batman movie, they seemed to get progressively worse, in my opinion.
Batman Returns was still good, but getting cheesy (we're supposed to believe that a nerdy, awkward woman can fall out of a building onto the pavement, get licked by cats for a while, and suddenly knows gymnastics? It's insulting to the audience, to gymnasts, and quite frankly, to cats.)
Batman Forever began to be officially over-the-top, although I enjoyed it. Jim Carrey was good, but Tommy Lee Jones was a bad choice. He didn't even really need make-up to play Two-Face (I think the make-up was actually the GOOD side of his face...that guy's ugly).
And then there's Batman and Robin. I threw up in my popcorn bucket on that one. It was just bad. If Batman Forever was over-the-top, Batman and Robin pole-vaulted over the top, and cleared it by 97,043 miles. I bought the DVD, just to complete my collection, but I haven't watched it in years.
Until last night.
I decided to give it another try. Was it really as bad as I remembered? Has it gotten a bad reputation for no good reason? Had I been too tough on it after my first viewing? I tend to do that with movies. So I settled in with a bowl of generic-brand Cocoa Pebbles (which was packaged in a 15-pound sack, for some reason) and popped it in.
I was right the first time. Boy, was I right.
Within the first 15 minutes of the movie:
1. We see Batman and Robin's butts (not naked, but I can't imagine it being much worse).
2. The first line (if I'm not mistaken) is Robin saying, "I like the car...chicks dig the car." Not good.
3. Batman, Robin, and the generic thugs of Mr. Freeze play hockey with a diamond...and everyone had conveniently brought their hockey sticks for some reason...
4. Batman and Robin then activate the ice skates that they have cleverly installed in their boots, for such an occasion (although they didn't find out that the bad guy was named "Mr. Freeze" until they were in the car - which is another story - on the way to fight him). They anticipate having to ice-skate at some point in their crime-fighting duties??? I blame Tonya Harding.
5. After blowing up Mr. Freeze's skyrocket with a Bat-bomb, Batman and Robin SURF back down to the ground (from 30,000 feet or so), using the doors from the skyrocket. Wow. Honestly, this little gem of a scene made Catwoman's transformation look like a documentary.
6. Mr. Freeze makes approximately 82 puns, threats, comments, etc. and they ALL reference something to do with the cold: "I'm afraid my condition has left me cold to your pleas of mercy"..."Ice to see you"..."Allow me to break the ice. My name is Freeze. Learn it well, for it's the chilling sound of your doom"...I'm not making these up.
I finished watching the movie, but - for the life of me - I can't tell you why. It was like watching a reality show, just to see the mess.
Some things in life actually ARE as bad as we remember them. So why do we continue to go back to some of those things, over and over? Why do we revisit them, thinking/hoping that we were wrong? When a dish of food in my refrigerator goes bad, I throw it away (if I notice it); I don't leave it in there, thinking, "That'll be DELICIOUS next month!"
When it comes to bad habits, bad relationships, and - in general - sin, we should probably just trust our first experiences, leave those things behind, and move on. As God's Word says, we need to put those things to death, not preserve them for future enjoyment.
To wrap this up, the Batman movies DID get better, but only when they went in a COMPLETELY different direction (starting with Batman Begins).
If our lives are headed towards the spiritual equivalent of "Batman and Robin", we might want to rethink our direction.
Nobody wants to see that.
Well, almost nobody.
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