Preparate

As a missionary in Miami in the mid-1980's, I had the opportunity to get know many Latin cultures, but I felt a particular affinity for the Cubans.  Perhaps that's because they essentially ran Miami as a northern suburb of Havana (which, let's face it, it is) or maybe it's because their preferred method of cleaning the house was to simply bring in a hose from the backyard and spray down every last bit of the plastic-encased furniture and formica sculptures, but I digress.  A common refrain I heard from Cuban brothers and sisters on cleaning days, as well as pretty much any day, was 'Preparate!,' loosely meaning 'Get ready.'

I thought about that one word command a lot today as the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and I made our way to the nearest big box hardware emporium to buy this:

The latest addition to our garage

Yes, we are the proud new owners of a Troy-Bilt 7,000 watt generator. Jealous?  Don't be.  This surrender to Mother Nature purchase means we really or that we will really need something like this.  Last year, before moving to this fine little corner of New England, they bore the brunt of a brutal, weird storm in October.  Our neighborhood was without power for 10, count 'em, 10 days.  Now if you're keeping score, you know that for the six years that we lived in Chicago, we never put a backup battery on our ancient sump pump. This meant that we spent each and every storm praying, sacrificing goats, doing whatever it took to make sure that thing kept running and that our basement did not turn into an open sewer.  By some miracle, it worked.  This time, though, we've decided not to play those odds.

Now we live in the sticks.  It's not like we can just run down the street to get a few things in the event of a power outage.  No, if we lose power for a day, let alone days on end, we will  have to fend for ourselves.  So adding the generator makes the spectre of living 'Little Hell House in the Prairie' just a little easier. Now to figure out how to work the thing...

I couldn't help thinking about the many lessons in Church over the years about the need to be prepared and living providently.  It is wise counsel. It's made us a bit of a peculiar people and not especially popular with movers. There's always an ugly moan when they see the boxes of food storage.  I for one hope that we never have to break into that stuff but if we do, I know we'll get by.  Oh the things we'll do with ground wheat!

Just a little bit off

It was a good weekend with the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and the Boy.  We didn't do anything especially exciting, but it was good to relax.  Really good as a matter of fact.

That said, though, I woke up yesterday feeling just a little bit off.  Not physically, but just a little off.  By midday, that off feeling was beginning to feel a bit like foreboding.  I could not put my finger on that sense, nor could I shake it.  It was more than a little strange.  Even stranger was the moment at Church when the speaker less than subtly declared we should vote for Mitt because of his charitable behavior.  I'm sure this thrilled the Mittites but I think that may have been some of the source of my foreboding.

Then today two of my children Tweeted about their weeks starting off in a way that suggests it is going to be a rough week for each of them.  I think that's where my sense of being just a bit off was coming from.  I hope I'm still in synch with them as they continue to grow up.  I hope that never goes away.

46

Another birthday. Someone is another year older and finds himself one year closer to death (I kid).  Yep, it's my birthday. Based on the average life expectancy of an American male (76 years), I am solidly middle-aged and, having crested the halfway hump, am on the downward slog to the end.  Good times ahead is all I can say.

I realized today, on this auspicious anniversary of my birth, that I have now spent more than half my life with the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML.  Do you know what a good thing that is?  It is a very good thing. I can't imagine celebrating this day with anyone else.

I've hardly had time to wax philosophical or contemplate what it means to be another year older.  I don't older.  I rarely do.  No self-respecting 46 year old should laugh as hard as I do watching "Dodgeball." Seeing that kid getting nailed in the face by a wrench never get old.  Never. Ever.

So I'm one year older.  Hoping that I'm getting better with age.  I sure hope so.

Just some stuff

It's a bit of stormy night here in New England and the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML is waiting for one of the trees in the neighborhood to take out a power line.  I find myself nearly devoid of thought right now, but I'll share a few of the things that have been swirling around in my head of late:

• I really like air conditioning.  I had to make a presentation today in front of about 60 people that was also being webcast to about one hundred other people and the room was as hot as the Edgware Road Tube Stop on a scorching summer's day in London.  I was sweating so much down my back you could have surfed down my spine.  Would it have killed them to turn on the A/C?  No it would not.
• The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML has been seeking my opinion on new hairstyles.  This has included her doing her hair in some of the suggested styles and asking what I think.  This will not end well for me.  The good news is that, so far, we've been laughing about the potential options.
• I'm getting obsessed with the Civil War again.  Cannot wait for "Lincoln" opening in November.
• It's feeling just a little bit like fall, which means this year is thismuchcloser to being over.  How can that be?
• One of my new favorite people on Twitter is this guy: @ldsbishop because of tweets like this:

Mitt Romney increasingly reminds me of that old high priest

you wish wouldn't spout their views during Sunday school

• Mitt's latest gaffe reflection of his true feelings, the one in which he claims that 47% of Americans will automatically vote for Obama because they are dependent on the government and pay no income taxes, and his flipping on it, claiming he had not spoken elegantly, demonstrates further the gap between him and, well, real people.
• Mike Birbiglia is a brilliant comedian and storyteller. 

Like I said, just some stuff tonight here in the Den.