Matthew just turned six recently. One of the cards he got from his kindergarten friend was so nice; I thought I would share it with everyone. I love how happy the sun is in this picture. When someone who is five sits down at their desk for an hour and draws something like this you know the sentiment is far more than you can buy at the Hallmark store for $2.25.

We celebrated Matthew’s birthday three times; once with my parents, once with just me on his birthday while Mom was away and once more with a small party at Chuck E. Cheese.

I printed out a few baby pictures for Matthew to take to school for “show and tell” on his birthday. Seeing the baby photos made me remember that tiny dark-haired boy we brought home from the hospital. I remember how hard it was to get him to sleep, how much fun it was to make him smile and giggle, how he lost all his dark hair and how hair grew back in curly bright blonde ringlets. Some days it’s very hard to connect the little baby to the kindergarten age kid sitting down and doing his homework, running around the house shrieking and chasing his sister, making jokes about words and surprising us with interesting facts about science.

Matthew, being your dad has made me want to be a better person and wish the world was a better place. Being your dad has also allowed me to see both myself and the world as better than I realized they were. Thanks for lending me your perspective

Julie Leung gave the keynote at Northern Voice, “Starting with Fire: Why Stories are Effective and How to Blog Effective Tales“. I didn’t go to the conference but listened to the MP3 last night. I was impressed — she is as poised and well spoken verbally as she is on her blog. The talk brought home again how important stories are to the human experience. As I mull it over, I am challenged to find ways to share more of my own stories.

This week’s annoyance is actually an “Outrage of the Week”. This week’s outrage is the radical American cleric, Fred Phelps. Fred has already earned his scarlet A by protesting at the funerals of gay people for years. He is usually spewing something hateful along the lines of “aids is God’s punishment for blah, blah, blah.” Now he and his followers have switched to protesting at the funerals of U.S. servicemen. The theory appears to be something like the following. God doesn’t like gay sex, the U.S. likes gay sex, God wants to get us now, God convinces us to go to Iraq where service people are killed by IEDs — the IEDs doing God’s will. There is no point in trying to dissect the twisted logic behind this kind of hate mongering. It’s sad to me what people do in the name of God or in the name of any faith.

He even showed up in Minnesota this week, “Anti-gay fury mars funeral of a soldier in Anoka“.

The bright spot in the story is that motorcyclists from around the country are provided a counter-protest by showing respect to the slain.

If there comes a day when I have to choose between outlaw bikers and Fred Phelps’ ilk my answer will be found in the squealing tires, the smell of exhaust, a bandana and a lone headlight streaking down the highway.

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One of my all time favorite blogs is postsecret. On this website they post scans of post cards, sent anonymously, each containing a secret. They are sad, funny, and sometimes disturbing. This year they published a book which I recently picked up. As I flipped through the book, marking my favorites, I found myself saddened that more of the submitters didn’t have anyone in their life to share their secrets with.

I believe the sadness I felt, allegedly viewing someone else’s secrets, is really a reflection of my own sadness. While I imagine that I feel sad that the baptist minister’s wife can’t tell someone that she doesn’t believe in God, the bigger truth is that I am sad that I am so full of stories that I am unwilling to share.

I have started to make my own postcard to send in to the postsecret web site on more than one occasion. I always find myself stuck; which secrets and how do I represent it best? The blank space on the card becomes a prison rather than a window.

If we become our own myths, is it possible that my hesitance to actively participate in the making of my own myth will result in delays in my personal development?

I’ve been known to read in public. At times I’ve covered my books with a plain black book cover so as to annoy strangers who wanted to know what I was reading. Now I discovered there is an even better approach; namely fake book jackets with funny titles. My favorites fake book covers are “How to Murder a Complete Stranger and Get Away With It”, “Fast Track to Prison – Exploring the Many Benefits of Life Behind Bars” and of course the salacious “How to Overcome Nymphomania”. I’m going to have to make one of these for myself.

[Link courtesy of Daily Candy]

P.S. I only knew about Daily Candy thanks to Amy, who forwarded me the “Valentiny Tim” thing that Joel posted about. Joel didn’t give you credit either.

One of my favorite local bands, Halloween Alaska, will be appearing at the Triple Rock Social Club on Friday, February 24th at 9:00PM. The Triple Rock is at 629 Cedar Avenue on the West Bank in Minneapolis.

If you aren’t familiar with the band, they are sort of a very lush, organic, ambient electronica pop. You can stream some tracks from their web site if that description didn’t make much any sense to you. I can’t wait to hear them again. My favorite track is their cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “State Trooper” which I haven’t heard them play live yet.

Anyway, you are all welcome to join me for the evening. It’s $8 in advance or $10 at the door. See you there.

I went to Alexander Hamilton High School so stories of people being shot by the sitting Vice-President are not new to me, but I really never expected to have it happen during my lifetime.

Every once in a while the universe drops an absurdity into our laps which strains the limits of believability — for this I am profoundly grateful. Mr. Cheney’s participation in an administration which rashly waged war on faulty intelligence and being involved in a hunting accident mistaking a lawyer in an orange vest for a quail — let’s just say it seems oddly just, although certainly not for Mr. Whittington.

My heart goes out to Mr. Whittington and I am hoping for his speedy recovery. His health maladies have taken the edge off the humour value of this incident.

Almost better than the real comedy is the inevitable looney-tune conspiracy goodness. Witness this quote.

The press has been asking a lot of questions about this minor event, begging the question, where was this disbelief and investigative ability during the run-up to the Iraq war?

Tower of Terror, originally uploaded by timbu.

I wasn’t really clear on what was going to happen on this ride — much to the chagrin on the 16 year old girl sitting next to me.

When the bottom dropped out of the ride, I reached out to find something solid to hold on to. Unfortunately that was the poor girl’s arm. I let go quickly, but not before turning 30 shades of beet red. So far this is my most embarrassing moment of 2006.

Home Made Pasty, originally uploaded by timbu.

Yesterday I made my first pasty. If you aren’t familiar with pasties, they are a flaky pastry filled with meat and vegetables usually potato and/or rutabaga. They were brought to northern Minnesota by Cornish miners.

I made my pasty with leftovers from the beef stock I had made earlier in the week. It wasn’t really an authentic pasty since it was made with beef, carrot, celery and parsnip. They still turned out very good.

The kids ate them up like they were candy. That was gratifying, especially after their lack luster reaction to my beet soup.