I'm not in space. I'm away from the internet. I'm not in space. I'm not in space.

Greetings from Germany! Sarah and I finally arrived after nearly 48 hours of travel. Let's just say I'm not really all that pleased with United Airlines and their customer service. Anywho, over the next 10 days, I won't be particularly religious about posting: the Kent's no longer have the internet at their house, so it's a small hassle to get to it. That's all for now; perhaps more later.

Sarah insisted I publish Christmas pictures. I think the middle one was taken in the future (Sarah in 50 years).

Not a creature is stirring, all through the house,
(Not even that roach who’s stuck in the fluorescent light.)
Sarah has sugar plums dancing in her head;
But they’ll stop when I go jump on the bed.
All of a sudden, I heard such a clatter,
But I didn’t run to the window to see what was the matter.
I didn’t throw open the venetian blinds
I knew it was our neighbors, drunk out of their minds.
Again.
I huddled in bed and tried to go back to sleep,
But couldn’t because my mattress is so cheap.
Then I remembered the reason for the day.
So, I’ll just sum up and say:
Christmas morning and all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest.

Or, I could post the following instead.

Merry Christmas! Sticking with the tradition of the day, I couldn’t sleep in past 6. Those of you who know me will recognize the wonder of that event (in terms of miracles, me not being able to sleep in probably ranks second only to the virgin birth we are celebrating today). In truth, my wakefulness can be attributed more toward my currently-poor sleep schedule than it can be toward Christmas-morning excitement, but we’ll just continue to pretend for old-times sake.

Having been on vacation for all of 1 day, Sarah has proclaimed that she is bored. I told her to shove it, and, instead, she shoved me.

In other news, Sarah and I have almost fully prepared for our upcoming trip: today I washed all of our clothes, cleaned the apartment, wrapped Sarah’s Christmas presents, and cooked some soup that Sarah refused to eat.

I borrowed the following from a guy named Luke (translated by the good people at Zondervan and copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by the International Bible Society).

1In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2(This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3And everyone went to his own town to register.
4So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. 6While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
The Shepherds and the Angels 8And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ[a] the Lord. 12This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."
13Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 14"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."
15When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about."
16So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. 17When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, 18and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. 19But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. 20The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.
Jesus Presented in the Temple 21On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise him, he was named Jesus, the name the angel had given him before he had been conceived.
22When the time of their purification according to the Law of Moses had been completed, Joseph and Mary took him to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord 23(as it is written in the Law of the Lord, "Every firstborn male is to be consecrated to the Lord"[b]), 24and to offer a sacrifice in keeping with what is said in the Law of the Lord: "a pair of doves or two young pigeons."[c]
25Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. 26It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord's Christ. 27Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, 28Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying: 29"Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss[d] your servant in peace. 30For my eyes have seen your salvation, 31which you have prepared in the sight of all people, 32a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."
33The child's father and mother marveled at what was said about him. 34Then Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: "This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, 35so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too."
36There was also a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was very old; she had lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, 37and then was a widow until she was eighty-four.[e] She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying. 38Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.
39When Joseph and Mary had done everything required by the Law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee to their own town of Nazareth. 40And the child grew and became strong; he was filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was upon him.

It’s so close to Christmas, I think I’ll write nothing and give it to you as an early gift. Merry early fake Christmas.

Vacation is upon her; now maybe the screaming will stop. I haven’t finished my Christmas shopping; apparently, I’m waiting until the last possible instant. My head is sore; next time I operate on my face, I’ll make a bigger incision so I won’t have to push so hard. I’ll just leave you to think on your own now.

I would like to share my feelings about the present season with this song (no, I am not the author), sung to the tune of "Winter Wonderland":

Children scream, they won't listen,
When they go, we won't miss em',
In all of this pain, we try to stay sane,
Workin' in an element'ry school.

Christmas comes, they're excited,
Though our nerves, they've ignited,
They're off of the walls, they run in the halls,
Workin' in an element'ry school.

In the lunchroom we can hear them yellin'.
And we know that they are really wound.
Someone hits, the other says "I'm tellin'!"
And that is when our heads begin to pound.

Pretty soon we'll be restin'
Cause our nerves, they've been testin'
We're happy it's clear, it comes once a year,
Christmas in an element'ry school.

I seem to be getting lazier and lazier as the days pass. I seem to be going through a phase where I just don’t do anything. Yesterday, I didn’t breathe for 10 minutes because it required too much involuntary muscle use. For those of you out there who’ve studied physiology, please keep your comments about impossibility to yourselves. Anywho, today is the last day of basketball practice before Christmas break. As a present, I think I’ll make the kids run until their legs fall off.

My tongue is almost better, and I’ll bet you’re all very relieved. Fortunately, my back is on the brink of going back out. I think my body just can’t do without pain. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I’m 50.

In other news, Sarah is almost bursting with excitement over her impending vacation. According to her, the best part isn’t the trip to Germany. Last night, she related to me, and I’m quoting here* “What I most look forward to about vacation is not seeing the stupid faces of those stupid kids at that stupid school.”


*Not a direct, or even indirect, quote.

Well, the basketball team got that win. It was an odd game. We were winning 2-0 at the end of the first quarter. It was almost like a Princeton game (you fans of college basketball out there will understand what I’m talking about; for the rest of you, do some research), only slightly more exciting: we were winning the entire game and could have totally blown out the other team, but we didn’t. I decided to play more players and ease back on the defense (no full court press). In the end, it was probably closer than it should have been (26-21), but a win is a win.

Oh, and did I mention that the game was held outside? Now I really know I’m in California.

So many comments, so many things to mail, so little time for posting anything but comments. If you add up all the comments to comments, you'll have a great post; just read those. The end.

This is the result of someone's big head smashing into my jaw during a basketball game. I didn't know that it was possible to bruise a tongue. In addition, my jaw feels as if it's been punched. Oh, and no comments about plaque. Not even one.

I may be posting a few more pictures in the near future. I may have gotten a jump on opening my Christmas presents, and I may have been given a very fancy new camera. Or, I may have been given money to buy whatever I wanted and may have chosen a very fancy new camera. Or, I may be a thief. Or, I may be a liar. Or, I may be a liar and a thief. Or, I may be delusional. Or, I may be someone impersonating me. Or, I may be mistaken. Or, I may not have anything to write. Or, I may be thinking about what to write next. Or, I may be testing you to see how long you’ll be up with the drivel. Or, I may stop.

One more week! One more week! One more week! One more week! Punch! That’s what Sarah was doing in her sleep last night.

In other news, I have my third basketball game on Tuesday. Hopefully I can get these guys a win. More on that to follow.

Here are two pictures. The first is our new painting and a box (can you spot it?). The second is our ficus tree, masquerading as a Christmas tree.

It’s Saturday. Might anyone guess where Sarah is? The moon, you say? Close, but no. A cheese factory, you ask? Getting warmer, but still no. A mass-media driven, consumer-oriented, shark-fest of a rat hole, you postulate? Ding ding ding! She did indeed go to the mall on the busiest shopping day of the year. What a looney.

Our basketball game Thursday did not go well. Apparently, the kids are prone to completely forgetting every single thing that they’ve ever learned about basketball (not a good trait). Anyway, we were down by about 230 points at halftime, so I benched the starters and started the bench. They seized the opportunity and played quite well, which, in turn, motivated the starters to play well when I finally put them back in (hey, we could lose our jobs!!!). We ended up losing by 10. We’ll see what happens the next game.

In reference to my previous comments, if someone could take it upon themselves to google bomb this site, that would be fantastic. May I suggest such key words and phrases as “genius”, “super genius”, “genius at large”, and “most humble person on earth”. Okay, get cracking.

I’m supposed to be wrapping Christmas presents. As you’ve probably discerned, I’m not. It would be exceedingly difficult to type and wrap at the same time, even if I could use my feet (I can’t). Plus, the keyboard would start to stink.

Sarah has her school Christmas party tonight (sort of: it’s actually just for the teachers in her program). I wasn’t invited. Some of you may be thinking, “Oh, he sounds sad; we should buy him something really expensive to make him feel better.” While I won’t argue that you shouldn’t buy me something costly, I will say that you needn’t feel bad on my account. I would have paid good money to avoid the unnecessary social interaction. As it turns out, I didn’t have to (something about her colleagues not liking my more odiferous parts).

It’s interesting what Google searches can turn up. For instance, if you type in “liar”, the first page that comes up is a biography of British Prime Minister Tony Blair. If you type in “failure”, or “miserable failure”, the first page to display is a biography of President Bush. The number two site is MichaelMoore.com. The process by which these anomalies occur is called “Google Bombing”, whereby website designers collaborate to link fairly benign search terms with certain web pages. This exploits Google’s algorithm for determining which results to return for searches. For more information, find a nerd.

Sarah has “forgotten” her lunch two days in a row. On Monday, she had to settle for buying a slice of pizza at school. How sad. On Tuesday, she intended to get a baked potato (which she loves) but they were out. She had a salad instead. How sad. Perhaps the little manipulator is tired of my cooking. Perhaps she’s just forgetful. I’m sure I’ll hear her opinion when she gets home.

The basketball team is looking pretty good. We have another game Thursday, and I think we’ll be able to put up a competitive effort. I’ve noticed that the guys, despite our loss, have a newfound confidence in their coach: they seem to be buying into the things that I’ve been trying to teach them. Maybe it was only losing by 9 to a team that killed them last year (and we could have won, had a few shots dropped and calls gone our way), or maybe it was my intoxicating power of persuasion finally taking over, but, either way, I think they’ve begun to listen…

Today is Tuesday. Surprise! Didn’t see that coming, did you? Anyway, not much is happening around here. Sarah is (im)patiently waiting for the end of school and the beginning of our trip to Germany. I am (supposed to be) finishing up Christmas shopping today. You’d be surprised how difficult it is for me to get motivated to go shopping when I have to walk two miles to get to the car. Even if I didn’t have to walk to get to the car, I’m not so sure I’d be all that motivated. Maybe tomorrow.

Yesterday, some friends of my parents (and the parents of a friend) stopped by on their way home from visiting relatives. It was nice to see them, and they dropped off a painting they’d given us. It’s a great work: an impressionistic scene of a European street at dusk. It’s also ginormous (easily as big as Sarah’s head). Who said that?!?!?! Anyway, it should look great in the living room and will definitely be a focal point.

I keep finding myself not having things to post about. I could repeat some comments about how stinking cold it is in here, but that’s been done. I could repeat some comments about how stinking cold it is in here, but that’s been done. I could repeat some comments about how stinking cold it is in here, but that’s been done. I could repeat some comments about how stinking co… whoa, I think there was some sort of glitch there: my brain apparently doesn’t function at temperatures below 60 degrees. That explains a lot about the thinking of Northerners (mainly, why they continue to live in places that do not naturally sustain life).

Sarah and I were out on our walk today, and a funny looking hummer nearly ran us over: we were on the sidewalk, crossing the entrance to a gas station across from our house, when the behemoth attempted to turn into the station. Fortunately, he saw us, stopped, and waited for us to cross. As the hummer passed by, I caught a glimpse of something painted on the side: it appeared to be a basketball with the number 91 on it. I thought, “No. It couldn’t be. Could it?” Turning to Sarah, I said, “I think that was Dennis Rodman.” “No way!”, she replied. We went in for a closer look, and it was indeed the Worm, winner of 5 NBA championship rings, 2 defensive player of the year awards, 7 rebounding titles. He was a 2-time all-star, 7-time first team All-Defensive player, New York Times #1 Bestselling author, and an original Bad Boy. Not to mention he was one, unfortunately, wacked out guy (case in point, his hummer was covered with crudely-drawn and cartoonish naked women). Of all the days to forget to bring my freaking camera on our freaking walk. I could just kick myself. Much as he once kicked that camera man in the crotch. Over and over and over and over.

Yesterday, I forgot to comb my hair, sort of. See, I hadn’t slept well the night before, and after I got done playing basketball in the morning, I took a shower and then fell asleep. After I got out of the shower, I’d, of course, combed my hair, but, as I’m sure you well know, sleeping on wet hair does not do wonders for one’s stylistic choices. When I woke up from my nap, I went through my day doing day to day things, and never really passed by a mirror. As it turns out, I looked very similar to a bum I once knew. That bum was me.

Sarah has been sick all week, so today she is resting. And by resting, I mean, of course, that she is driving all the way up to Anaheim for a book sale and to do some Christmas shopping. On the way home, she’s stopping at Costco to buy movie tickets so we can watch the “Chronicles of Narnia” in the theatre tonight. Sounds very restful and relaxing, doesn’t it? She’s not crazy, just a little touched in the head, if you know what I mean.

Well, we lost our first game (48-39). I’m not terribly broken up because 1) I played 15 players, and we still could have won (very close until the end), 2) We were playing a rich, private school, and 3) I just didn’t want to get killed (last year they lost all their games by an average of about 30). More later.

Perhaps you’ll recall that, a few days ago, I was complaining about the temperature in my house. In my defense, it was less than 70 degrees in here. In your offense, it was -47 in West Yellowstone yesterday, and much of the country (including parts of Texas) found itself enduring temperatures below freezing. (What is this, the Weather Channel? Talk about something interesting). Maybe I shouldn’t complain; maybe I should. I’ll get back to you.

As it turns out, Sarah was able to go to school today. I think it may have had something to do with all the Sudafed I pumped into her. Either way, she is there; and, on the plus side, she made all of those sub plans and didn’t have to use them. How is that the plus side, you ask? Didn’t Sarah end up doing more work, you ask? What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? Can’t a guy just make a stupid comment without having to think it through?

That poem was very creative: if only I’d written it (I didn’t). Sarah isn’t feeling well today. It’s great she has sick days to use, but it’s not as great that she has to have everything planned out for her sub. If you ask me, it takes all the fun out of it. I have my first basketball game tomorrow, but I commented on that elsewhere…

Well, our first game is tomorrow. In practice last night I instituted a new defensive scheme: it’s called, “Play Defense or Else!” The kids really seemed to take to it. In reality, I’m going to have them go with full court man-to-man defense after every made shot or stoppage in play and normal man-to-man (inside the three-point line) for all missed shots. They lost all their games last year; I see room only for improvement. And, worst case scenario, we can’t do as poorly as our JV team: they lost 112 to 18 on Monday.

I would like to share my feelings in the words of this unknown author:

Dr. Seuss on IEPs
Do you like these IEP's?
I do not like these IEP's
I do not like them, Jeeze Louise
We test, we check, we plan, we meet
But nothing ever seems complete.

Would you, could you
Like the form?
I do not like the form I see
Not page 1, not 2, not 3
Another change, a brand new box
I think we all have lost our rocks.

Could you all meet here or there?
We could not all meet here or there.
We cannot all fit anywhere.
Not in a room, not in the hall
There seems to be no space at all.
Would you, could you meet again?

I cannot meet again next week
No lunch, no prep--please hear me speak.
No, not at dusk. No, not at dawn
At 4 pm I should be gone.

Could you hear while all speak out?
Would you write the words they spout?

I could not hear, I would not write
This does not need to be a fight.
Sign here, date there,
Mark this, check that
Beware the student's ad-vo-cat(e).

You do not like them, so you say
Try again! Try again! And you may.

If you will let me be,
I will try again, you'll see.
Say! I almost like these IEP's
I think I'll write 6003.
And I will practice day and night
Until they say"You got it right!"

Yesterday, Sarah got an excellent gift: a surprise IEP. For those of you who don’t know, an IEP is an individualized education plan; these plans have to be done once a year for each student in special education, and they require much planning and work on the part of the teacher. Normally, teachers know about IEPs months in advance and can plan their schedules accordingly. Due to some snafu, Sarah was informed of this IEP only a few weeks in advance. It is at this time that you will note my statement above (suggesting a gift) was sarcastic in nature. She is not pleased.

In fact, it’s so cold in here, that our ficus tree just shed all its leaves, as it might be expected to in winter. The oddity of that is the tree is made of plastic. In truth, the real plants are fine. I think they’re in hibernation.

In other news, I had my 8th grade team scrimmage the 7th grade team. We didn’t lose, but the guys found out when I have been hollering about defense for the past few weeks. If a good defense could be likened to an impregnable wall, ours could be likened to a hole. Perhaps now they’ll listen.

It’s freezing in this house; it’s 68 degrees outside, but I’m quite sure it’s colder than that in the house. In my defense, the ice age is only partially my own fault: direct sunlight can’t get into the house due to some ineptly placed buildings and trees (not a fault of mine), and we don’t use the heat (I suppose this could be considered a fault of mine). If only there was some solution…

Sarah and I had a pretty good weekend. Saturday, we went to a “red egg” party (Chinese tradition of introducing a new baby) in Artesia (LA County). We had a good time: there was great food, and I got to meet lots of relatives that I’d not previously known. After church on Sunday, Sarah went shopping (which she loves), and I avoided shopping (which I love). Isn’t it fascinating how our interests meld so well?

When I played on the basketball team in high school, we had practice every evening after school. For these practices, each player was to wear his reversible green and gold practice jersey (green on one side, gold on the other; made for easy scrimmages and drills). Each day, after practice, I would hang my jersey on a hook in my gym locker. A month into the season, I noticed that it was getting a little scratchy. Halfway through the season, I found that, if I left my jersey on the hook all night, I could literally stand it upright on the floor, as if it was being modeled by an invisible mannequin. You might call it gross, but I’ll call it a biochemical miracle. Memories.

It’s Friday! Note the exclamation point. In truth, Friday doesn’t really mean much to me, except that I get to play basketball in the morning, but it means loads to Sarah. Loads. So, I suppose, in an indirect way, Friday is meaningful to me as well: you know, the two become one, etc., etc. Unfortunately, I can’t say that Sarah is entirely a happy camper on weekends. To set the scenario, weeknights usually go as follows.

Sarah: “Don’t make me go to school tomorrow. I can’t wait for the weekend. Don’t make me go to school tomorrow.”

Me:

To finish the scenario, weekends usually go as follows.

Sarah: “The weekend is almost over! Nooooooooooo!!!!!!! Don’t make me go to school on Monday.”

Me:

You’ll undoubtedly note two things from these exchanges. 1) Sarah is a very forward-looking person, and 2) I’m not very supportive.

Yesterday, I wrote that I was bored (on another blog, which shall remain nameless; unless you want to visit it, then just click the link at left). Sarah came home after 10 hours at school (at least three of which were meetings), and, in response to my statement, said she wanted a divorce. Then she attempted to murder me. Then she did murder me. In everything, the lesson I’ve learned is this, “Never share your feelings. Ever.” That said, I’m bored.

As predicted, I’ve already lost one basketball player to grades, and another quit on Monday. What I did not foresee was my adding two new players, which bumped me back to 18. The sheer number hasn’t been a problem, but apparently we’re three jerseys short (there’s some sort of budget issue), and not only are we short uniforms, but the ones we have are hand-me-downs from the GIRLS JV team. Eighth grade boys with girls uniforms, ouch. I am now struck by the ratio of consonants to vowels at the end of “eighth”. Look at all of them. Look! It doesn’t make any sense.