Sawyer...I mean, LaFleur

Okay, I'm apparently the only person in my immediate family who still watches "Lost." Everyone else gave up before this season, during which it has become the BEST. SHOW. EVER. (Although "Firefly" is still my favorite. It just didn't last long enough. So I guess "Lost" is the SECOND. BEST. SHOW. EVER. But I digress...) Anyhow, if you happen to still watch "Lost," I highly recommend checking out "Lost Untangled" on ABC.com or on Youtube. "Lost Untangled" is basically a 5-6 minute recap of the most recent episode, except it is done with action figures and comic book panels. Way funny. Here is one example:

More Beatboxing Flute Guy

Some classical beatboxing...



and some beatboxing from my childhood...

Things That Make Me Happy, Part 3

Whenever I need a little pick-me-up, I just head on over to Youtube to watch the beatboxing flute player guy. He blows my mind!



and some more awesomeness...

Where did he think he was going?

So I'm home with Bella today, recovering from The Plague, just minding my own business when I hear a THUD. I realize that it was the sound of something hitting a plate glass window, of which there are many in our new home. I go out to the living room, expecting to see Cleo jumping at the sliding glass door, wanting to go out to pee. Instead, I see Cleo looking quizzically outside at a very dazed looking bird, stumbling around on the patio. The funny part is that the windows were not clear at all. They were all steamed up from our dryer (inside the house and not vented outside like it should be...story for another time). So my question is: Where did the bird think he was going? Into a weird cloud? Into the future? Where no bird has gone before? The world may never know...maybe I should ask Mr. Owl...

Happy 5th Birthday, Dad.

I miss you.

Um...what are you looking at, Moose?

Most photogenic boy ever?

I have always wanted to be a photographer. I love taking pictures. I love trying to frame a subject just right. My dream is to take some classes, you know, actually learn how to take a proper photo, and go with my wife to New Zealand so that I can get some really amazing shots. (No, it has nothing to do with the fact that New Zealand is actually Middle Earth. And if you believe that, I've got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you.)

Over the years, I've gotten taken some fairly decent pictures, despite only having point-and-shoot capabilities. And strangely, a fair percentage of my good pictures have one specific subject...so I ask you- did these pictures turn out great because of my mad skills, or because I am lucky to have the most photogenic boy ever living in my house?

Happy New Baby Sister Day!

Today I get to meet my new sister. How often do you get to say something like that? I mean, I do have 6 sisters now, so I guess I get to say it more often than most, but still...pretty cool.

The National Honor of the Trousers

In 14th century Mali, a man named Mansa Musa was king. He was a very generous king, giving gold, land and horses to his citizens in exchange for their loyalty. The greatest gift, however, was given to military heroes. This gift was known as "The National Honor of the Trousers." According to one Arab, named Al-Dukhari:

"Whenever a hero adds to the lists of his exploits,

the king gives him a pair of wide trousers...The

greater the number of the knight's exploits, the

bigger the size of his trousers."

The reason for this was that only the king and his family could wear sewn clothes; everyone else wore clothes that were wrapped around the body. Hence, to be given big pants was an honor, indeed. The better you were at being a warrior, the bigger your pants.

Sometimes I watch kids walking around school between classes, having to pull up their pants with every other step, and I think to myself, "They must have done some great things. Look at the size of their pants!"

Happy 28th Birthday, Annie!

(A day late...sorry)
THIS IS YOUR BIRTHDAY SONG!
IT ISN'T VERY LONG!
NOW HERE COMES THE BEST PART...
AND THAT WAS IT!

Question:

What is the best kind of bear?

False. Black Bear.

Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica.

From now on...

...whenever someone is trying to rush me and I'm not ready to go, I shall simply answer,
"Keep your pantalones on, Erik Estrada."

Happy 35th Birthday, Mom!

But you don't look a day over 34.
Love,
#1 Son

'Twas the night before Christmas...

...and all through the land,
Not a creature was stirring,
Except for poor Dad.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
as Dad wrapped the last present with mere minutes to spare.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of diagrams danced in Dad's head.

And Mama in her jammies, not wearing a cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When downstairs in the garage there arose such a clatter,
she sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

"Sorry," said Dad, as he picked up his tools,
"I should have paid more attention in school.
I didn't know I'd need an engineering degree,
To assemble a bike for a child, age three."

His eyes -- how they drooped! His countenance how wan!
Muscles drawn taut, trying to force a piece on.
His grim little mouth was drawn up in a grimace,
As he said, "Hand me my shears; I'm just going to trim this."

Mama smiled and said, "Can I help you at all?"
Dad replied, "No dear, I've just hit a wall.
I'll be done in no time, don't worry your head."
Mama said, "Okay, honey," then went back to bed.

A monkey wrench he held tight in his teeth,
And the bicycle's chain 'round his head like a wreath
He had a dour face and a little round belly,
From eating too much of the cranberry jelly.

Not to mention the cookies left out for St. Nick,
Dad polished those off, and he did it right quick.
"After all," explained Dad to the toys he was wrapping,
"I'm gonna need fuel to keep me from napping."

"After I finish this bike, you see,
It will already be seven minutes to three.
And while the children continue to snore,
I've got to make sure that this dino will roar."

Then he laughed and got back to his fatherly duties,
Assembling and wrapping and dropping tools on his footies.
And when the last present was under the tree,
He admired his handiwork, then dropped to his knees.

He gave thanks to Jesus for making him "Dad."
For his wife and his children and all that he had.
Then he finally crept into bed, only to hear,
"Wake up, Dad! It's Christmas! Santa was here!"

-Nathan Beach, December 26th, 2008
Merry Christmas!

Things That Make Me Happy, Part Deux

Every year, on Thanksgiving Day, I begin rereading "The Lord of the Rings." (Yes, I know that it should be underlined and not put in quotes, since it is a book, but I apparently do not have that option here.) It is my favorite book and since the movies were released in three consecutive Decembers, this time of year always makes me think of Tolkien. So, in 2003 I decided that I would reread the books annually, starting on Thanksgiving Day. It seemed like a good day to start, partially because it is easy to remember and partially because always starting on the same day appeals to my minor (undiagnosed) case of OCD. (and probably Tourette's) At any rate, reading "The Lord of the Rings" always makes me happy. I especially love being reminded of little parts that I had forgotten about. For example, early in "The Fellowship of the Ring," Pippin sings a song while in the bath. It goes like this:

Sing hey! for the bath at close of day

that washes the weary mud away!

A loon is he that will not sing:

O! Water Hot is a noble thing!

O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,

and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;

but better than rain or rippling streams

is Water Hot that smokes and steams

O! Water cold we may pour at need

down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;

but better is Beer, if drink we lack,

and Water Hot poured down the back.

O! Water is fair that leaps on high

in a fountain white beneath the sky;

but never did fountains sound so sweet

as splashing Hot Water with my feet!

I had forgotten that last year I decided that I was going to sing this to Xander every day at bath time. Of course, I tried a couple of times but never quite memorized it, so I stopped singing it. Maybe I'll try again this year...except for the Beer part. I'll say "apple juice" instead. Apple juice makes Xan happy.

Being a teacher means having no shame...

November 26, 2008 shall henceforth be known as "Scottish Teaching Day." Our school is divided into "continents," with each continent consisting of 7 or 8 homerooms. My homeroom is part of Africa. For this year's canned food drive, rather than being a competition between homerooms, it was turned into a competition between continents. I told my homeroom that if Africa won, I would teach them wearing a skirt. Africa had not won any of the various competitions throughout the year so far, so I felt that I was safe. Well, one of the OTHER homerooms in Africa ended up with 800 cans of food for the week, trouncing every other class. Therefore, Africa won the whole darn thing. Meaning I had to teach in a skirt. Luckily (this was also the reason I said I would teach in a skirt in the first place), I own a kilt. So Wednesday, November 26th became "Scottish Teaching Day." I either raised or lowered my cool factor on that day. I think...both.

Scottish Teaching Day

I'm in withdrawal

Last Saturday, for the first time in a long time, we had some free time in the middle of the day with no plans. Anna was working out, the kids were napping/playing, and I was sitting on the couch reading a book. All of a sudden, I got a major craving. Not for food. Not for a beverage. For Baseball. I realized that what I wanted most, right then, was to have the Giants game on while I read. I didn't even need to watch the game. I just wanted the dulcet tones of Messrs. Miller, Krukow, and Kuiper in the background as I read. But I couldn't, 'cause baseball (as always) has cruelly disappeared until mid-February. I miss baseball. Sigh.

Happy 30th Birthday, Baby Sister!

Happy Birthday, Mary! Welcome to your Thirties. The Thirties are way better than the Twenties. Except in history. The 20's were pretty cool and the 30's were marked by the Great Depression (which started in '29, but who's counting?) Anyway...Happy Birthday!

Jesus is not a Wheat Thin

We were at church last night and our worship pastor Mark Averill was explaining what communion is and what it means. Then he said that the band was going to play a few songs and whenever each person was ready, he or she could get up and walk to one of the tables and get a cup of juice and a wheat thin. Then he stopped himself, laughed, and said, "By the way, Jesus is not a Wheat Thin. It is supposed to represent his body that was broken for you." Everyone laughed and then the band began playing.

Now, I know that Mark was just making a joke, but it got me thinking: You know what? Jesus really is NOT a Wheat Thin. I think that we Christians can too easily fall into the trap of trying to place Jesus into a box or trying to categorize him in some way. It's easy to say "Jesus is Lord," or "Jesus is Savior," or "Jesus is the Son of God" without really thinking about what those words actually mean. I know that I have been guilty (far too often) of taking Jesus for granted. Maybe it is because he is too big to wrap my mind around or maybe it is because I can't actually see him, but I continually lose sight of the fact that Jesus really is my Lord and my Savior and The Son of God. Frankly, sometimes I let myself forget that Jesus IS. Whever this happens, I like to go outside at night and look up at the stars and just take in the universe that HE created. It reminds me how small I really am. It reminds me that Jesus is not a Wheat Thin.