treasure

The thought of treasure reminds me of a pirate who finds that chest full of gold coins. He spends all of his energy and life looking for that treasure because when he finds it he is set for the rest of his life. The emotion he experiences when he finds that massive treasure must be amazing. But gold coins vanish.

I have a list of memories that I cherish. Some of those cherishable memories are so high that I call them treasures. But the great thing about these treasures is that they don't vanish.

As I grow older I find that the treasure list is growing exponentially. I'm the kind of person who doesn't seek out a lot of friendships. I'd rather spend my time growing as close as I can to the few friendships that I've already established. Because it's here where I find my treasures: in unexpected wonderful moments with people I am passionately in love with.

At the top of the treasure list is moments with my wife and my son. Tonight we got home late from a mother's day thing at my in-laws and put Mason down to bed immediately, as it was an hour past his bed time. But he wasn't tired.

We were tired. It's an hour past our bedtime, on a Sunday night. We both have to get up early to go to work tomorrow. "Mason, please go to sleep." Mason wasn't tired. So we let him cry.

An hour later we finally have some sympathy. We're good at the tough love thing, but sometimes the kid just needs some sympathy. This was one of those times.

So I go into his room, crawl into his bed, and am just present with him. He talks, I listen. Story of my life, but this is different. He strokes my hair, snuggles my forehead, and breathes right in my face while he blabs on and on. Finally he starts to get tired, lessens the chatter and starts to close his eyes. I've learned by now that it's better to leave the room while he's awake so that he knows I'm leaving, rather than have him wake up with me gone and freak out. So I whisper to him, "Daddy's going bye bye now. I'm going to sleep in Daddy's bed."

Mase opens his eyes a bit, strokes my hair one last time. "Okay Daddy. I love you so much."

And there it is. Instant treasure. The moment you experience it you know that it will take a long long time to forget....having your own flesh and blood 2 year old son say those words to you.

I love this part of life.

It took 3 minutes

...to remove my Pedro moustache (or is it spelled mustache? Wikipedia doesn't seem to care), and I wasn't even in a hurry. It amazes me how a little facial hair can cause such a stir. I received more comments about my dirty upper lip than I have for any other post.

There are just some topics that are more universal than others I guess. Mason posts are enjoyed by most, beloved by a few. Music review posts don't seem to get much of a reaction. And UA sports posts probably hardly even get read. But the moustache is something everyone can relate to. Either you're a woman and you abhor them. Or you're a man who thinks they're funny. Or you're a man who absolutely loves them, and in which case can probably actually grow a decent one. But you won't because of a woman.

moustache challenge

A couple weeks ago my coworker Mark and I started a mutual challenge to grow moustaches. I finally shaved my beard today.

Two weeks and that's all I could muster. Just sad. Not to mention I've got this Spanish bald middle part thing going on.

Needless to say, Kari loves it.

for nicole...

...who called me a weenie in regards to some other mason-in-a-skirt pictures recently posted on Robin's blog
This is Mason doing his "Big Stud" dance, also known as the "Get Outta Trouble" dance, depending on the context of the situation. It's a bit more humorous in this garb. We'll try to get a video next time.

no, we don't beat him

Being a boy, he's actually proud of his battle wounds. This one happened on a bed frame. I think he had just finished reading 5 Little Monkeys Jumping On A Bed. He never seems to notice the "bumped his head" parts.

freakin budinger...

NBA draft beckons another; this time it's Chase

I am beside myself

freakin bayless...

Bayless tells UA he'll enter NBA draft

Guess he's not the "competitor" I thought he was.

like watching an oompa loompa in a leotard dancing on the street corner

You want to look away but you just can't

visit from grammy

Mom, Mason sure had a great time with you last week. Thanks again for making the trip!

Now that I've vented about the loss...

...and mid-terms are over... I feel the freedom to write on more pointless subjects.

My mom, who is visiting from Tucson this week, asked me when I had time to blog seeing as how I have family, church, work, school, and a new house on my plate. I think I just find it therapeutic, so I make the time. It's nice to be able to write/share whatever I want without having to worry about boring other people. You don't like it, don't read it. On that note...

I will never grow tired of the song Frail, by Jars of Clay (see the music playlist to the right).

I'm not sure what the heck the words mean, although I have some thoughts, but that is my definition of absolutely beautiful music. The producer of their greatest hits album is an idiot for not including it on the playlist. Throw a piano into it and it doesn't get any better. There is a piano version out there, but that one doesn't have the strings (violin, cello, etc.). I strongly gravitate towards any soft alternative music that has piano and strings. Deadly combo.

And what the heck is wrong with all of you people who haven't seen The Last Samurai?

I will never grow tired of that flick. I caught some flak a couple Sundays ago when I said from the pulpit that I favor this movie over Braveheart. But c'mon people, seriously, as amazing and manly as Braveheart is, it lacks the relational and spiritual depth that makes Last Samurai so good. Now I do admit that some of the acting could afford to go, but the script is absolutely genius. Give it a try. Especially if you've seen Braveheart. This one skips the sex and most of the gore.

Since I'm on a roll, let me add a book for fathers of boys: The Way of The Wild Heart, by John Eldredge.

I actually haven't finished it yet because of school getting in the way, but the first 2 chapters are sweet. I know Eldredge has as many critics as he does fans, so this one might be harder for me to sell. I'd label myself 75% fan, 25% critic of Eldredge in general. I think he made a mistake by giving this book a title so closely tied to his most popular book, Wild at Heart. That one got so much hype and criticism that many people probably won't even pick this one up. But this one is an easier read because of its practical nature (whereas WaH was more subjective and sometimes fluffy). That's all I'll say on this because now I'm tired.

If you got this far, thanks for reading.

West Virginia 75, Arizona 65

Tonight I went through once again what every fan goes through when their team stinks it up. I rooted hard for them for most of the game...cheering for every much-needed 3-pointer and yelling at every horrendous choke. Then when I realized it just wasn't gonna happen I started cheering for the enemy. "What a fitting end to a crappy season. I hope they lose." Seemed to make sense at the time, but I only go there to lessen the pain.

It's still fresh. "There's always next year." Lute's back next year...I expect he'll resurrect the program if he can resurrect himself first.

kari's blog

My hottie wife just started her own blog.....finally.

www.karilaos.blogspot.com

I think I might actually like her name better than my own....dang it.