Sun Days

The day after Maxwell died, we found two "suns" taped to our back door window.

Jennilyn caught the anonymous neighbor almost immediately, but didn't share who it was.

For four weeks, every morning, we were greeted with another sun, another quote/comment/excerpt.  Some were very religious, some were silly, some were philosophical.  I didn't keep track of their order, though you can find the hand-written first one, way down at the bottom of the pictures.

Some days, I'd come home from work, and walk past all of the cheery suns.  But most days, I'd stop, read the new one, look back at some of the others.  I would pause a moment to soak up the smiley illustrations with the real surges of grief still churning around me.  Like turning my face to the warmth of sunshine while standing with my feet in the cold ocean.  Even today, almost two months later, when I read through the quotes, I feel myself start to tear up. 

Actually, when I start to drift into despair, and feel disconsolate, I've come back to these little suns, and read them.  Especially while listening to our favorite song find from Brother-in-law Bob, it has been an ongoing balm.

It was a beautiful act of love and kindness.  It was consistent, simple, earnest, true.

We are grateful for all of the outreach we've received.  It has all helped.

It still hurts to have Max be gone.  But every sunrise is another reason to smile.  Even if the sunrise is taped to our back door.

Thank you.

Showing Up

"80% of success is showing up"

--Woody Allen

I drove my daughter and some friends to a dance in Frederick Saturday night, which is about 100 miles away. Afterwards, while driving the friends home, I was stopped by police not once, but twice. The first time was for failing to dim my brights soon enough (I actually didn't know that was a ticketable offense), the second time for failing to slow on a curve. I was let go both times with a warning

It reminded me of something that happened last May - while driving my son to a concert, I got a ticket. The Trooper that pulled us over said he saw him riding as a passenger without his seatbelt on The trooper was wrong; he said he saw my son putting on his seatbelt, but what he saw (I think) was my son putting his mp3-player earphones in. Well, it was only a $25 fine, but I opted to take it to "trial". Sometimes, showing up is the only necessary part to succeed. I got to court, and after listening to a dozen or more people fumble through explanations about why they were speeding, I got called up. The State Trooper failed to appear, so the judge just said, “Not guilty!” as soon as I stood up. I was on my way.

Here’s another example; there was a costume contest last Halloween at work with an interesting twist; the costume had to be made from recycled materials. It struck me, made me feel like it was something I could do to be supportive of the office. So I mentioned it to Jennilyn, she grabbed a cape made from fabric and an old dress. When the announcement for the contest starting came over the intercom, I took a deep breath and put it on. And I won. Not only did I win, I won ALL three places, because NO ONE else wore a costume! Sometimes you just have to show up.

You think I'm joking? All three prizes really were this much candy.
And they each had a $25 Target Gift Card included!

Sometimes, you have to do more than just show up; you have to show up on *time*. A friend from church left me a voicemail message asking if I could drop him off at the train station, I called him back and left a message that “Sure I can!” Then he called me again and told me he needed to be picked up for the early train; at *4:30* in the morning! I told him it would be no problem. If I’d been late, he would have missed his train.

But sometimes, you have to show up on time and be ready to work hard. Sometimes harder than anyone else who shows up. The parable of the workers in the vineyard tells me that there is not a scale of reward that allows us to slack because we see other slacking. The gospel demands that we be free with our time, even when others are not working as hard as they might. Jesus didn’t suffer through the atonement because we deserve to be saved, but because he loved us.

So show up on time, and be ready to work hard. I'm pretty sure that's moer than 80% of success.

Feed Me! Or, a Father Ponders His Fathering.

What raising small children feels like at the time.

(photo credit Maxwell Landbeck) .

What we remember raising small children being like.

My heart aches with longing and worry for the happiness and success of each of my children. The day before Stewart left for the Missionary Training Center, I tried explaining the mild trepidation I felt. He was about to pass completely out of my control, away from any continuing influence I might exert on him.

I know, intellectually, that he had really passed out from my control already. Years ago, if truth be told. He is a man grown, making his own decisions. Most of my children are really that old now, that grown. Legally, socially, and morally. The fact that I still pay some of their bills, and they do me the courtesy of including me in a dwindling number of their decisions prolongs the illusion that I have much to do with their actual living.

But in that moment with my son, I felt a great swell of melancholy, considering that my opportunity to instruct, inspire, lead, and direct was ending. I was full of the worry that perhaps I hadn't done enough. What if I taught the wrong thing? What if *by* helping him, I enabled his weakness? What if I hadn't tried hard enough to be encouraging? What if I have been *too* stern, crushing his creativity and agency?

The speculative what-ifs multiply, weighing heavily. I know, intellectually, that it's easy to psych myself out, and lose by simply giving up in despair.

I remember being the parent of small children and thinking it was hard, but looking back on it (and watching some friends who have young children), that's the wrong word. Parenting toddlers isn't hard, it's busy. Busy to the point of consuming. And feeling yourself consumed by something that you know isn't ever going to stop, that's stressful. But ultimately, all you lose is time. Those days, those years, they flow out of you, your kids survive and grow, and it's over. In almost every situation, small children and their pervasive needs are so easily met by the simple, brute force of spending time. The emotional pain then is worry at their fragility, at how easily the world could hurt them.

Parenting teenagers is hard. Statistically, older children make *far* fewer mistakes than younger children. But as they grow in age, the consequences of their mistakes multiply, increasing almost geometrically. When a two-year old spills milk, or has a tantrum, it is solved with a hug or a paper towel. They cry, you hold them, it stops.

But when a 16-year old steals a car, or an 18-year old tries drugs, or a 17-year old decides to have sex, or a 20-year old decides they’d rather go to school than serve a mission, or a 15-year old blows off a semester of school (ruining their chance to get a good scholarship) ... those things leave marks on a child’s life that never go away completely, no matter how good the child behaves subsequently. The emotional pain of the world hurting them is still there, but now, you also worry about the damage they do to themselves.

A parent’s heart aches, it just shivers from the sympathetic pain of such things, even when they are speculative. Some days, when I think about what is happening to my kids, what might happen next, I feel like I am juggling grenades. If anything slips, even a little, it’s going to all come crashing down and explode.

One day, we’ll look back on all of our choices, they’ll be clear in reflection. There will be a handful of moments that will stand out as the pivots for our eternity. Where we went to school. Who we married. When we said no. When we lied, or told the truth. When we stole something (or didn't).

The problem is that to me, ALL of the decisions I see in my kids’ lives look like pivotal moments. But kids resist adding the weight of destiny to choices, and reflexively insist that the decisions they make are no big deal. Getting all stressed out doesn't make it easier to make the right choice.

What parents think their input sounds like.

What teenagers think their parents' input sounds like.

What I really, really believe is that I am right; all the moments matter. Those huge pivotal moments, they come as the result of a million other choices that we made that were just exactly right. They add up to the momentum of that one shining moment that in memory becomes that pivotal moment.

So I get it, I understand. My kids, they have to come to the understanding of consequence and responsibility on their own. If I could always steer them in the right direction, then they'd never really come to their own adult grasp of right and wrong.

It's cold comfort. The understanding of that doesn't make it any less painful to watch my kids fritter away time, or blow a big chance. The weight doesn't lift from my shoulders when they stubbornly go the wrong way. I feel great sympathy for Alma the Older, for how painful it is to have nothing to contribute but silent prayers that things will get better.

But I guess it makes it easier for me to not react immaturely. There will be no ultimatums, no angry threats of disinheritance. I will strive for the tranquility to quietly express disappointment, to calmly urge for greater respect, and to reiterate the promise that no matter what, I will always love them.

I will always welcome them. I will pray for their survival, and look forward to the day I can hug them when they are dealing with their own teenagers.

... this post was featured as a guest posting at Modern Mormon Men. If you have a moment, click through and give them a page hit!

Soylent Green Isn't Just People; It's *YOU*.

"Ask a kid what Facebook is for and they'll answer 'it's there to help me make friends'. Facebook's boardroom isn't talking about how to make Johnny more friends. It's talking about how to monetize Johnny's social graph."

--Douglas Rushkoff,
speaking at the inaugural Hello Etsy conference in Berlin.

I don't consider myself a paranoid person. I've always felt like anyone who really wanted to spy on me was welcome to do so, it's not like I have anything interesting hidden away. But I still think it's important to understand the mechanics of the marketplace, and to help our kids be wise consumers (of both material and information).

So forewarned is forearmed, kids.

Lights Will Guide You Home

I love my family. I've made that comment before. It is a rich vein of talent, affection and information that I have been glad of repeatedly over the years.

One cousin-in-law has been the source of much music gold over the years. He recently sent us six (!) CDs full of goodness. 3 were his recent faves, and 3 were CDs full of love songs. Maybe he sent them near Valentine's Day? I imagined while listening to this trove of cultural goodness that it must be tricky to make recommendations like that. Don't want to be too hip for good pop stuff, but don't want to be too pedestrian. I think my friends are doing just fine.

So I'm playing through these six CDs. I drive to Towson for my part-time job with the Census 5 or 6 times a week, so it's been great to have some new sounds. On the first play-through, one number on love-song CD #2 caught my ear, Coldplay's "Fix You"; I had a strong, nearly visceral negative reaction to it, based on the line from the chorus, "I will try to fix you".

I spend so much of my time talking to my kids, trying to reason, order, bully, beg, trick, persuade, guide them to do what I think is right. Trying to teach them how to know what's right on their own. When to turn away and make a different choice.

Kids pick hobbies that are expensive (or that they really aren't very good at), and then they get angry when they aren't having fun. You ever had a child come crying to you because a video game is too hard? Or they overreach, take on too much, and founder under the load. Too many AP classes, one too many extra-curricular activities.

Teaching someone how to not throw good money after bad is hard.

So that was what I was thinking when I heard the song the first time. I didn't want any of my children to get sucked into the vortex of trying to "fix" someone that was broken. Trying to make something work that just isn't.

But I stuck with the song and listened to it again, and realized it wasn't just about a boyfriend trying to fix his girlfriend. It speaks rather to the unwavering love than insists no matter how awful something has gone, I will keep trying. I believe it can be better.

I think I can help, and I want to try.

That is a message I can get behind.

So to my kids, who are off to school, off to adulthood, off to points unknown. . .

Be careful. You are precious, of infinite worth, and there are forces at work in the world who mean you harm.

But be brave. Try. If you fail, keep trying.

I will always love you, and will always be there to give you a hug when things go sideways.

And if things go really really wrong, come home. We will try again.

The Coldplay video of this song, linked below, can't be played, but you can click through to watch it at Youtube if you want.

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Tears stream down on your face
When you lose something you cannot replace

Tears stream down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you



And this is a silly. Chris Martin did a guest-spot on the show-within-a-show on "Extras".

"Plus, Gwyneth is makin' drumsticks."

*laughing*

Lion and Tigers and MMORPGs, oh my!

I’m not sure where it started with me. Who can ever really know where their tastes for entertainment form? Parents influence us, peers, pop culture. Did seeing Star Wars in the 4th grade imprint me forever with an inclination for science fiction and fantasy? Was it just a necessary element of my life's path to point me in the direction that would lead me to meeting my wife?

Whatever the well-spring, I really do like the fantasy genre, and I have found a special fondness for playing games with fantastic elements.

When I was in middle school, my peer-group played Dungeons and Dragons (AD&D, core rulebooks, if you are a big enough geek to remember). I played it too, though mostly we just got together, rolled characters, gamed for an hour or two, and spent the rest of the night watching movies and eating pizza.

In high school, I played a game on our home computer (an Apple IIe) called "Wizardry". I think my friend Richard Price made the recommendation to me.

In my twenties, we got a computer with a modem. It was an amazing time, as the internet became widely and easily used. A friend of mine (actually someone I played D&D with in the 80s) introduced me to Multiple-User Dungeons, or MUDs. They were all text-based, all were speculative fiction (the concept of playing normal people for fun, a la "The Sims" was a decade away), most leaned heavily in the direction of fantasy. I played a lot on one called "Perilous Realms" as a Rogue named Groo.

Several years ago, I tried World of Warcraft on for size, played it for about a year and a half. The milieu was fun, but the emphasis on PvP (player versus player) and the commitment it required in time made it difficult to continue. It didn’t fit. What has fit, and continues to be a lot of fun, is Lord of the Rings Online. I was signed up to get notices about it almost six or seven years ago, when it was still called Middle Earth Online.

Why the history lesson? To give some background; I’d like to give some advice on parenting gaming children. I have none for families that have XBox addicts; our kids play rock band on the Wii, but none of them have been interested enough in that kind of online gaming to pursue an account with us.

Last year, there was an article in "The Ensign" (a magazine published by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) about Massive Multi-player Online Role-Playing Games (MMORPGs). A .pdf version of the article is here, which is interesting mostly for the artist's rendition of some scary orc shoulder armor.

Online gaming is like any past-time, it can be awful, destructive if it becomes consuming. But I contend that there are plenty of good things about it as well. I learned to type playing MUDs. Playing a good online game is like reading a good book. It has definitely been something fun to do with the kids, and fun cooperatively, not competitively (we can only play so many board games before someone is sad because they lost again). Like building a Lego castle together. We've played with Emma while she's been at BYU.

It can teach problem-solving skills. Sometimes, in a hairy fight, it's better to take out the collection of little guys first, and concentrate on the boss last. Sometimes, it's better to gang up on the big one first, and then divide and conquer the remaining monsters. You know monsters/bad guys = problems/chores.

Here are some of my suggestions about what to do about gaming with your kids.

If you don't want to play with them, find analogs that you can use in understanding what on earth your kids are doing - what are the things you do for leisure or entertainment? That's a good reference. Common ground will make it easier to discuss issues of content, priorities, good/better/best use of time.

To that end, set priorities with your kids - chores, homework, practice. Family time, Sunday rules. Help your kids know how you choose when to relax.

Know what they do - if you don't play with them, at least have them around you when they are playing. Put the game system where you can watch and observe

Find a way to be interested - again, even if you don't or can't play it with them, ask questions about it. Read an article or two online about the game. Listen to them tell you their stories about playing, and ask them questions.

Communicate your expectations - give five minute warnings (when you can) before they need to quit playing. Some games punish players for quitting in the middle of an activity, so have some empathy when your kids are frustrated; don't you hate to be interrupted while watching a show, reading a book?

Teach kids good social rules, especially how to balance social grace with safety rules - you don't have to be nice to people (don't even have to talk to them) if they are rude or make you uncomfortable. Have them promise to tell you about anything that happens that is inappropriate.

Agree on bedtimes, or turn-lengths (if you don't have enough systems for everybody to play at the same time, there will be fights about whose turn it is) - Set content standards, and make sure everyone knows what they are (language, behavior, violence). Allow your kids the chance to make a case if they disagree, listen to their petition, encourage a dialog.

Make appointments - schedule game time.

Model behavior you want them to emulate - teach interruptibility. Taking turns causes more friction (because it happens almost every day), but needing a child to stop playing now (because it's time for bed, time for school, time to eat, time for church) has caused conflicts of the greatest intensity. Parents and older siblings can teach kids how to be matter of fact when they have to quit doing something interesting.

Be careful about using threats to delete or remove the game as a punishment; it might look like something frivolous to you, but the amount of time invested in a game can add up over months (or years even) to be hundreds of hours. It's that investment that you are threatening, not just a silly pastime. Throwing away something special to your children is probably a drastic overreaction as punishment. Instead, threaten to limit time spent, or to suspend the account. Sure, the amount of time might look extravagant, but put that in perspective; would you rather have them spending that hundred hours questing, reading, thinking, problem-solving, or watching Spongebob?

If anyone is interested in playing LotRO with me and my kids, leave me a message or email me. The game offers a 10-day free trial if you want to look at it and see what the deal is. We play together, but are pretty casual, and we have a good time. There's always room for another friend (and often, there are referrals we can use to get you some free gaming time)

When Do You Share News? Are You a Serial Sharer, or Do You Hold Off and Wait for the Whole Story?

"News". Facts. Information.

Where do you get yours? How do you share it? I feel like I constantly ask the children, when they are reporting something, to just tell me, "What did you do? What did you say? I don't want to hear your version of what someone else did, I can ask them that myself!" They know, by now, better than to under-report their own mistakes.

So many things happen. People get sick. Marriages founder. I remember going to my 15-year reunion and feeling ill from all the people who asked me about taking the bar exam.

"I'm sure you passed!"

*queasy* But what if I didn't? Part of me wished it was a secret that I had graduated from law school, so I could just wait until I knew if I had passed. How awful would it be to have everyone waiting for me to tell them good news...and I have to tell them bad news?

It's easy to understand why some people keep bad news to themselves. Why we wait, thinking to "protect" our friends and loved ones from worry. Sometimes, we are just protecting ourselves from that future embarrassment of having to follow a hopeful interim update with a sad conclusion. I don't think that's fair.

And what about news regarding other people? When you know something (or suspect something, or overhear something . . . or encounter the rumor of something, even?), who do you tell? Where does the respect for person A's privacy end, and the duty to share information begin?

If you find out your neighbor is having an affair, do you tell the spouse?

What if you found drugs in someone's gym bag?

What if you witnessed an abusive behavior by a parent, a boyfriend, a co-worker?

What if you heard about someone planning an activity that you think they'd regret tomorrow? What if you heard a friend's child planning something like that?

I'm not talking about real, legal duties to share; you have to report crimes. I'm talking about that nebulous moral zone occasioned by circumstances like those listed above. Do you have any other examples? Leave a comment with some!

For some, it might be easy to just barge in and start sharing information. I'm pretty sure that's not the best approach; we are cautioned strongly (by both scripture and etiquette manuals) against being gossips, for good reason. Unity and community are important, worthy ideals. A willingness to believe bad news about others (or the tendency to actively seek it out and share it) is destructive to trust and affection, both immediately and eternally.

It involves respect for one another, respect for privacy. If you come to know something damaging about someone else, and it wasn't that person themselves who shared the info with you, how do you handle it?

But it also entails a commitment to the truth. There is a reason hearsay isn't allowed in court. But set that aside, consider only things you know are true. Even if you come into the knowledge of a report of something, it is the fact of the report that is true, not the contents.

There are issues of curiosity, history, gossip, accuracy, all swirling in the issue. Surely nobody wants to be a rumor-monger or gossip, but hopefully, nobody really believes it's better to not know things about each other. Life and coping have their best chances to happily succeed in an environment of honesty and acceptance. Sunshine and openness.

I think we have a social, familial obligation, a duty to share information with each other, if it is information we would acquire ourselves *if* *we* *were* present. On the other hand, things that we wouldn't know about, even if we were neighbors, should be more discretionary. But I wouldn't underestimate the power of community and acceptance to be helpful even with a private struggle like that.

If someone is struggling with drug addiction, for example, or having marital problems, I think it would be a matter very much up to that person and their spouse, whether or not to share details with the family. But if someone got arrested for a drug problem, or got separated/divorced, or suffered some other public setback, then I strenuously argue that the fact of it should be shared with those people who love and care for the person. If you know, you have a duty to disclose.

What about hard feelings and prejudice? If sharing some act, comment, or behavior that is relevant, causes someone to harbor ill-feelings against the actor, shame on them. We have a duty to love, even to increase our love, especially in circumstances of trials like these. No one should feel their problems or hardships exclude them from their family, their friends, their loved ones.


Climbing back down, more to the point, when do you share something that is in process? Jenni's been gone for 8 days now. Our lovely huge dining room table broke (30 minutes before our guests were coming on Thanksgiving!), but it is almost put back together.

Should I have mentioned that the day it happened? Since it will be fixed before she gets back, should I just not mention it? Or should I wait until it is fixed and just reveal how awesome-talented I am in all things carpentastic?

(this was our on-the-fly fix)

I get asked, at least once a day (much more often if I am in a crowd), "How's the job hunt going?"

It is an act of will not to sigh dramatically before responding, "Still looking!"

Should I discuss the call-backs I get? Should I share when I am invited in for an interview?

I think so. So, to that end, I do have an interview next Tuesday, an office job with the Maryland Judiciary.

Just promise me you won't quiz me too closely on the follow-up. If I get the job, I'll let you know.

Many Things at Once

I love movies. I love being entertained, so really do enjoy a wide variety of entertainments (in my oh, so expansive free time), but movies in particular do a really good job of entertaining. Good movies do, anyway. But I have very little patience for many things associated with movies. I can barely stand going TO the movies these days; too used to closed captions. And when did they get SO expensive!?

I love the notion of the Oscar awards, but find the show tedious beyond my capacity to bear. Still, there are moments of brilliance. I saw a piece a few years ago that sticks in my mind. It was when Robert Altman got an award. Lily Tomlin and Meryl Streep presented it, and they did a great bit, where they started by taking the stilted turns presenters take when they pair up for award ceremonies, obviously reading from prompters, stopping on cue for their cohort to take up the narrative, the little halts and eye-narrowing giving away the fact that it wasn't a natural speech.

But then they started to blur, talking over one another, occasionally lapsing into simultaneous agreement. How unprofessional! It was at first frustrating because such overlaps make the text of their speeches impossible to clearly understand. But then you get it; that's Robert Altman films. People talk over one another, the text gets blurred, it becomes chaotic, immediate, vibrant. They finish by reciting the line; "You leave his movies knowing that life is many things at once!"*

That sentiment resonates with me this morning. Mrs. L has been frustrated lately with the spare bed-/sewing/computer room. It is three things at once, which doesn't bother me; I see the future in the chaos. The beauty that comes later, after the indecision. I trust the patterns that I see over decades of living together. It's happened before.

When we were moving into this house, my Father asked me about the dozen doors I was stacking carefully against the garage wall. Old, dark, solid wood interior doors, many still with the old timey latches.

"Are you going to use these to replace the doors in the house?"

"Nope. They are art project material."

Dad was dubious. Clearly, he had never seen The Gates installation in New York.

I aspire to see things as they really are, which often means seeing them as more than one thing. It's not just a used door, it's a piece of wood with intense physical characteristics, its own inner beauty. And it's not a collection of beautiful wood, but a collection that creates a dynamic, offers potential in their future use.

But that's why my blog is named what it's named; I can see more than one side to things, it's sort of my gig.

Have you looked at some of the in-process photos Mrs. L puts up when she paints a room? All the furniture gets moved everywhere, we live for a day (or a week) in combined areas, eating around the kitchen island. It's disruptive, sure. But then the room is different, and Jenni is vibrant with the creation she has unleashed in our home.

I know some things in life are NOT more than one thing at once, they are binary, on or off, right or wrong. But the day-to-day living we do, where we are besieged with opportunity to choose, to labor, I suspect we do ourselves a disservice when we are impatient with the process.

Today, I admire my wife's ability to throw herself into things, to try, to do. I know that a natural consequence of that is somethings get half done, thwarted, paused, even abandoned. Don't give up, keep being flagrant, dynamic, stretching towards that aesthetically perfect everything at once room.

I'll be there to help you move the furniture back in and clean the brushes.


*If you want to see the dialog, you can watch the video here, their intro is about three minutes long.

Be wise

Be wise. My kids know, I am a never-ending (sometimes that's synonomous with "blathering") font of opinion. I wish I had been writing down all of my advice over the years. Not because it's "good" advice, just so I could remind myself I already said something, and not run the risk of repeating myself and becoming redundant, ignorable...

So here are a few collected bits, in no order, with no narrative.

Fill out the "for" blank on your checks. Write in your customer number, account number, transaction ID, whatever.

Check your bank statements OFTEN. More than monthly. The type of thing discussed in this article has happened twice to us over the years (mysterious charges showing up on our credit card statement). Catch them quick, report them, you'll get the money back and a new card issued.

We spend our days reacting and interacting with our surroundings. Don't always wait for the event, but look for indicators. Watch for brake lights 4 or 5 cars in front of you. Look in mirrors, look at shadows to see what's around the corner, who's coming. Be aware of blind corners, so you don't rush around one and make a pratfall of yourself. Forecast.

Buffet hack number 1; Chocolate Fountains; they're not just for pretzels. Look, if you have a full buffet, don't just go straight to the sweets. Have some roast, have some salmon. If there's cheese, have more of it. But when you do get to the sweet table, remember the chocolate corollary to the first law of culinary excellence; if it goes good with chocolate, it goes better with more chocolate. Those caramel pecan bars? Mmm, chocolate fountain drizzle on it is yummy. Bowl of M&Ms? Put some melted chocolate on it, and eat it with a spoon.

Park cool (front-end of the car facing out). It's safer to back in to a space than it is to back out (statistics, baby). And it's good for the quick getaway.

Synergies are efficient. Find a hobby that produces. A job that gives you food to take home.

Free, or inexpensive /= a good deal. Features you don't need can be a burden. Don't waste your time, money, or storage space on things you don't really want.


Buffet Hack number 2; I love eating at places I've never been before, and trying things that other people tell me are fabulous. I feel like I am living my life more fully, surfing the waves in front of their exeperiences. This is how I came to enjoy a Mango Lassi. My wife's sister recommended it to her, and then Jenni to me. Mmmm. There is an Indian Restaurant in Harford County with a Lunch Buffet. The Lassis are pricey, a few bucks each. But the buffet has a fruit salad which is chopped fruit in. . .mango lassi!. Sometimes, being uncouth is the price you pay for delicious. By carefully spooning out the fruit salad sauce into a bowl, I was able to refill my mango lassi drink.

Teach yourself to nap.

Know when to stop running after something. When I was taking the train, almost every morning, I saw people running to try and catch the train. But once it starts moving, it's too late.

Document everything you can. Take pictures the day you move in. Write in your journal. Scan documents, computer storage is cheap. Take a moment to sort and tag things so you can find them again. You won't regret having something tangible to go with your memories.

There are two kinds of fear, fear of harm, and fear of failing. Fear of harm is prudence. It can be the beginning of faith, the child that grows into wisdom. Fear of failing is pride. It is what makes us hide our talents, refuse to do something because it looks silly. It is the urge to refuse a course because it might be seen as cliche. Know the difference. Never ignore the first. Never heed the second.

Know all of your days that you are loved.

Be kind. I have often regretted being hasty or angry. I have never regretted being gracious.