A 1000 Words or Less

I would have done the same thing. Really. I get it. I mean, if you had the choice between eating a donut and holding a baby, you drop the baby, right?

So when Sophie dropped her "baby" on the floor at Gibson's, no one got mad. We all understood the hierarchy. Chocolate donut, then everything else. The only thing I can disagree with is that I would have gone with the glazed.

The tables are a tight fit at Gibson's. Maybe it's a subtle reminder not to overeat? Regardless, it was tough to reach the scorned baby lying hopelessly on the floor in a puddle of glaze and sprinkles. The best we could do was have Jesse pick it up with her feet and swing them in my direction so I could grab the baby.

Holding the baby, I glanced at Sophie. She looked at the last bit of chocolate donut in her hands, made a feeble attempt to lick off her still-shiny chocolate lip gloss and reached half-heartedly for the baby.

"How about if I hold the baby until you finish?" I offered.

"Mrmshmshrehad," she mumbled in reply and returned to the donut.

Momentary distraction aside, Josh and Brooke and Jesse and I returned to the conversation at hand. Until we all realized how funny it was that I was holding a baby.

And so, for your pleasure, the following picture was taken:

Last Day

I started blogging about anger because I couldn't think of anything else to write about and it's my constant companion at work. It seemed prudent to write out my thoughts on this strange and powerful emotion. As I was attempting to map out my feelings about the feeling, I really wasn't looking much for feedback as much as finding my way to a conclusion on the matter.

Well, I should have known better if iii was involved. iii is a good friend and blog associate and impulsive commenter! He also turned out to be a good dia-blog-er on the matter. His perspective has given me a lot to think about and has changed my thoughts on anger. But not so fast my friend! Before iii starts claiming total victory, I still think anger never helps. I just think I need to tweak that thought.

Put simply, I think there is one important distinction that gives me a way out. That distinction is the one between feeling and expression. If we allow a distinction between the feeling of anger and the expression of it, then we can both be right.

The feeling of anger might sometimes help. Anger at acts of injustice or unrighteousness may provide the impulse needed to act justly or pursue righteousness. However, the expression of anger, I still maintain never helps. I'm going to hold to the ideal on that point. I can't see a reason, in terms of practicality, healthiness, or spirituality, that would render the expression of anger helpful. Thoughts? Anyone? iii?

All creatures great and small (poop)

Today was the big in-home visit for our international adoption home study. Yay. It was kind of an anxiety-producing event. It's not everyday that you have someone coming into your home to approve or deny your home's suitability for a child. It's strange to think about child-proofing a house for a child that we know very, very little about. It seems like something most parents probably do at the end of the process. I know I would have. We'd have the crib, the colors, the blankies, the toys, the clothes, the bottles, be walking out the door to the hospital and then think, um, hope the little kid doesn't want to stick its fingers in a socket, because we don't have socket covers. Not so now! Right now, I hope the kid doesn't want any of that other stuff, but if the child wants to stick its finger in a socket, we've got those covered!

So, obviously, we're busy last night double-checking every little detail. Fire extinguishers, check. Carbon Monoxide detector, check. Knives and fireworks, um...

Just kidding. I don't have any of those.

Anyway, one of the things we do have now is a new rug. Check out Mrs. Bailey's blog for pictures. It looks great; I like it. I like it more than the semicolon use in the previous sentence. It gives a nice fresh feel to our main living area, and out of all the things that needed thorough cleaning last night, it wasn't one of them. Which is good because we're double-checking and double-cleaning everything else.

And then, we wake up. Early for Mrs. Bailey, usual time for me. I take the dog running so he'll be super-tired and less jumpy when the case worker arrives. I clean up and begin the wonderful process that all morning people go through: waiting for the rest of the world to catch up. About that time, Owens gets a little anxious.

And by anxious, I mean throw up. On the brand new rug. That we hadn't had to worry about cleaning. Because it was brand new. And did I mention it was brand new. At the time, I didn't have the clarity of mind to see it for the sweet gesture it really was. At the time, I politely said, "Really? Are you kidding me?" and let him go outside. But now? Now I think it was such a sweet thing for him to do. Clearly, Owens understood the significance of this morning's visit and clearly he could sense our anxiety. That was clear. Like, 6 paper towels and 15 squirts of Febreeze clear.

Clearly, he just wanted to remind us that we have nothing to worry about. Adding a child to our family will just mean one more member of our house that needs help and makes noise when it wants to poop at 3 in the morning (that'll make 5 of us). It'll mean just one more member of our house that whines when it wants to be fed (that'll make 4 of us). And just one more member of our house that throws up at the worst possible times (just 3 this time). Thanks for the reminder, O. Next time, a card will do.

Day #3

It seems natural that idealism be rejected with what we call "a healthy dose of reality." As if it isn't healthy to be an idealist.

On the other hand, is it really healthy to stop dreaming? Or what is the significance of a life pursued without a vision?

Yes, dreamers have been burned by moving to close to the sun. But they've also flown!

Perhaps then there is a way to dream responsibly. Or, to borrow from a competitor's ad slogan, maybe there is a life with just the right amount of dreamability. I believe there is.

So maybe the friction between the ideas that 1) anger never helps and 2) I can't just not be angry will produce a spark to light the way forward.

Regarding the first point, I've tried to make my point. Even Rob Bell thinks anger is only good if you let it produce something more redemptive (at which point the anger goes away). Ah, yes. But what if we can skip the stage where we get angry and then motivated to do something redemptive? What if we replace anger with something better, like love? Still too idealistic? Fair enough. I'm going to give it my best shot and see if I can't produce a coherent theology for anger never helping.

Tomorrow.

On a much more personal note, Jesse and I have officially begun a journey we started years ago. I order both of you who read this blog to check out the last two posts so that you can see what is going on with me.

Day #2

What I find so fascinating about anger is that although people agree with the idea that anger never helps they still frequently get angry. Aside from some urban youths I was in a Bible study with once who said getting/staying angry at a girl will make her sleep with you, I've never heard anyone sing the praises of anger. Sad/true story, by the way. I'm going to allow for the exception (that's not really anger anyways, it's just pretending to be angry) and move on with the rule.

So most people would agree that anger never helps. But most of us still get angry. I'll be the first to say that I am (angry) Spartacus on this one. And what bothers me is that I rarely feel bad about getting angry. It's much more likely that I will feel justified when I get angry. How often do I get angry at what someone else did to me and then feel this overwhelming need to tell someone else about it? I can't let go until at least two or three other people have commiserated with me over whatever grave injustice was done to me.

I've been wronged. I've been offended. I don't deserve this. How dare they do this to me!

I often wonder what the source is of this (self) righteous indignation. I'd say it has a lot to do with the parenthetical word in that last sentence. Me.

Consider the Christian's classic defense of anger: Jesus in the temple. He too was indignant! He was RIGHTEOUSLY indignant! We emphasize righteous as if there is some secret to getting angry in a Christian way. And we believe the secret is that as long as we don't allow our anger to get out of control, we're justified in our anger. If you feel like it is under control, then you can do whatever you want - even make a whip out of cords and chase people around with it at church! You can go all hulk smash on the fellowship hall tables as long as you keep it under control.

Controlled rage is not the secret. The secret is us.

"But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ - the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead."
- Philippians 3:7-11

Who knew this inspiring passage could be practically applied to life in relevant ways?

There are far too many things that I consider gain at the expense of Christ. Those are the things that make me angry. MY time. MY money. MY rights. MY driving space on the road.

I'm too concerned with how these things might BE my profit that I am unwilling to consider them rubbish that I might gain Christ. Otherwise, I would be practicing HIS redeemed time, stewarding HIS money, denying MY rights for the sake of HIS kingdom, and who cares about all other insignificant things?!?!?!?

I believe the secret is that rather than dealing with anger and trying to justify its place in the kingdom, we should be trying to give away whatever might be the source of that anger. Or, in another sense, we should be denying any appearance of self-righteousness (and subsequent indignation and anger) and seeking the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.

Day #1

I'm not going to apologize for not blogging much in the last couple of days/weeks/months/seasons.... I've been busy, sure. But who isn't? More so, I haven't been interested in writing. To say the last year has been an adjustment from "full-time" school to full-time adult would be well-stated. I haven't always enjoyed it. One of the less enjoyable things has been the automatic reallocation of time and effort. As such, certain practices (i.e., blogging) have received less attention that I would have liked, while others (i.e., dealing with angry people) have demanded much more attention that anyone would prefer.

I suppose that "dealing with angry people" line deserves explanation. For reasons best given at another time (or never), I work at a property management company as... a property manager. I really like my office mates and I am very grateful to have a job (period) that allowed us to stay in Memphis as long as we wanted, me to finish school, etc.

My job requires dealing with a lot of disgruntled people. Frequently, they're angry about something, usually money. My job is to deal with those people in constructive ways, which often means letting them share their anger with me without letting it affect me or sharing it right back with them. I've developed some selectively thick skin (avoid cynicism!) and unfortunately gotten pretty good at dealing with said angry people. Over the last year, I've learned from my overexposure to anger. For one, anger never helps but always hurts. Also, I've become convinced that the most overlooked fruits of the Spirit are probably kindness and gentleness.

All that to say, since I'm having such a hard time finding inspiration to write, I've decided to find inspiration in what's there, and right now, what's usually there is someone else's anger, so I'm going to write about that. Should be fun.

My Own Ignorance

Exposed.

Box Office Cred

Exposed.

Indie Cred

Exposed:

Gods, Not Gods, and the Future

Well, that last one didn't even get a response from my wife, so it must have been really... awesome.

It was too long to make one post, and now I've lost the "inspiration" as it were, to finish the thought adequately.

In short, the direction I was going was the idea that it is within the realm of possibility that God cares more about us conforming to His character than he does about us conforming to some self-appointed concept of a Plan. Maybe God's will is that in all things we choose to do, we do it in such a way as to honor and glorify his NATURE. This as a distinction from God's will as figuring out exactly what God has "planned" regarding the course and events of your life, future, etc.

So, for example, (and this will be a tough one to admit considering the type of love glorified in our culture and considering the way we have "spiritualized" that concept) maybe what God's will for you in regards to a spouse is to find a person who will support and encourage you as a Christian. Maybe those searching for a spouse should spend less time searching for "The One" that God has prepared from them from the beginning of time and more time searching for someone to whom they are attracted spiritually, physically, etc. Sure, it sounds less romantic, and sure, Jesse and I tend to feel "The One"-ish about each other, but what about widowers who remarry? Did God's Plan including them being built specially to love more than one "The One"? Yes, it flies in the face of our lofty romanticism and every great romantic move you've ever seen, but what if God didn't pick a "The One" for you. What if He blesses the choice of a spouse that you make as long as the relationship you have with that one person conforms to God's nature and character and design for Godly marriage? That's pretty provocative, but not entirely insane. Just don't bring it up with your spouse...

Let's try a less disturbing, more comfortable, example: the place where you live. Is it God's will for you to live where you do, with the job that you have, with the church body of which you are a part? Or, is it just as likely that God honors wherever you choose to work (within reason [ie, not a strip club]), live, or worship, as long as it conforms to His nature and character? It's possible, right?

We don't like to think this way because it makes everything feel so much less comfortable and controlled. I'm going to stop typing special words in caps - you can decide which ones are the most important. If God doesn't have this Plan worked out then how do we know what to do next? We've created this idea of a Divine Plan to help us feel safer about the future. It's much more comforting to feel like there is a right thing to do in every situation but that we just have to figure it out. It's can be much more frightening to think that there may not be a "one right choice" in certain circumstances.

At the same time, it might be more liberating. You have a choice. And not in the radical individualist sense, but more in the sense relationship. You and God interact. He honors your choices; He works with them. He might try and convince you to make a different choice, or He might provide guidance to help you choose something that is better than another thing. And, ironically, it might make determining God's will easier. Plan-centric language goes out, but relational language takes its place.

See again the Israelites. Why did they "Exodite" Egypt only to fall so soon at the foot of God's mountain? I would say that it might be because they wanted a Plan, and only got a relationship. I would say that it might be because they cared more about knowing came next, rather knowing who would go forward with them. They were looking towards Canaan, when they should have been looking to the top of the mountain right in front of them. If God has a plan for us, it probably looks a lot different from what we normally expect. It probably doesn't have a picture of you and your spouse, your job, your house, you children, your paycheck, your cars, your church, etc. It probably just looks like Him.

1 Thessalonians 4:3 "It is God's will that you should be sanctified..."

God, Not Gods, and the Future

I was recently part of a class discussion about the Exodus. After discussing the meaning of the plagues, interpretations of Pharaoh's hard heart, and the like, the idea was raised how Israel was reacting to the plagues and how quickly they would "forget" the power displayed in the plagues and the God behind that power. It's not a bad question. How and why did the Israelites cross the Red Sea only to forget God almost immediately at the foot of the mountain upon which the very presence of God had come to rest? What possessed them to create a Not God in the presence of God?

When humans create Not Gods for themselves, what form do they take and what function do they serve? For the Ancient Near Eastern cultures, some may be familiar with Ba'al, Marduk or Tiamat. Or more popularly, consider the Grecian deities: Zeus, Apollo, Aphrodite, Athena. In each case, I would argue that these Not Gods are attempts by humanity to explain, in the broadest sense, human experiences. Why did floods destroy our fields? Tiamat is angry and must be appeased. Why is this other nation attacking us? The Gods have caused it. Why is (x) happening? The Gods! I would argue that humans have always struggled to understand why things happen and have always struggled with a gnawing sense that the explanation touches on something greater than ourselves.

Perhaps this penchant for uncovering a plan is a whisper of the eternity placed in our hearts. On the other hand, maybe it's a mirror of our existence as temporal beings.

I wrestle with whether or not we are even able to think beyond chronological parameters. Perhaps that is part of God's mystery which we are not meant to understand. Or we ought always to seek to understand how our relationship with God might affect our current reality. That is, maybe we should at least to try and understand how God, outside of time, relates to us, exceedingly temporal beings.

But isn't any attempt to understand or explain this relationship in chronological terms inherently flawed? If it isn't possible to understand fully, should we even try? Perhaps it is important at the beginning to note that no complete answer can be given. Humans cannot breathe without oxygen. Theologians cannot theologize without time (usually more than necessary). Unless otherwise noted, time will continue to be our great variant, obstacle, and oxygen.

We affirm then that we are time-bound and God is not. This is the buoy from which we dive into deep waters. We also affirm that understanding time is a decidedly human obsession. God is not obsessed with time as we are; he has a pretty good idea how it will end. Of course, We know also. BUT, we do not know how we will get there. And we WANT to know. We want to know how we get there almost as much as we want actually to get there!

Oppositional to God, humans are too obsessed with time. We want to know all about it. People are always wanting to know how we spend it. Time is money, right? With an insatiable hunger we seek to uncover every past secret, to be informed about every present event, and to discern every future possibility.

Perhaps it is not a coincidence that the same blind ignorance of which we accuse the Israelites seems to have much in common with the same stroke of stupidity with which we often paint the apostles. However, I would question if perhaps what we see in these chosen followers of God isn't also present in us. Maybe we're not dealing with situational foolishness so much as human foolishness. To name it specifically, perhaps it is the result of an eternal God engaging temporal beings.

I am beginning to wonder if perhaps God doesn't care about time as much as we do.

Consider again our lab rats, those "dumb" Israelites. They go from living in Egypt and asking Moses and Aaron not to make life so hard for them to watching each plague unfold to the shores of an Egyptian sea - now seeing with faith - the amazing God who is. The God who is rescuing them. He has come to take them into the land he promised would be theirs. Finally, they will be free! Stupid Israelites! What happened? Because, look, there they are now at the foot of the mountain of God, asking for a more tangible Not God to lead them.

How could they be so blind? How could they forget that the God who had been so mighty to save would continue to keep His promises?

How am I so blind? How do I forget that the God who has been so mighty to save might continue to keep His promises?

Read This!

I'm officially addicted Google Reader. So much so, that multiple times a day I come across links to stories that I think others should read. My wife is fond of making you make things, so I've decided to make you read things. Read this! And this! Now!

Why Don't You Face It...

you're addicted to God? Is it possible to be addicted to God? How do we define addiction? Are all addictions by nature unhealthy?


Those who read this blog know me, so it's redundant for me to point out that I like to think. I have no answers on this one, and quite frankly, it's way out there and not well written (unedited stream of consciousness never is), but I've thought about as much as I can about this idea of God addiction without getting any farther than what you read here. I welcome outside thoughts. Let's converse, dear readers.


I want to be addicted to God. It's an interesting idea, to be sure. Maybe even I am addicted to the idea of being addicted to God. Think about it. What is there was nothing you wouldn't sell to get a more God in your life? What if you had a constant "jonesing" for God? Would it not be awesome if any time you didn't have God, you wished you did?

Of course, I must be sensitive to those who have struggled, or are close to someone who has struggled, with addiction.

There does seem to be something, though, about the human nature, some flaw in us, that allows us to become so radically unbalanced in favor of one thing that it negatively affects all other aspects of our life. Wouldn't it be nice if we could find some way to manipulate our flaw for good?

There are physical, emotional, spiritual, relational consequences to addictive behavior.

I guess I just wish that we could find some way to re/un-twist our ability to become unbalanced in favor of The One good thing that can only affect every aspect our lives positively. That would be nice.

Vintage Music Dos

Your indifference won't stop me from blogging more about this, so don't bother not bothering.

The transformation of music media has trended towards the song being the primary musical unit, over against the album/record. Consider this: you started with the first major music medium for the purpose of sales - the record. From the record, you move on to the 8-track, which is smaller and more portable, but like the record, you don't really have a choice which song you listen to or when. From the 8-track to the cassette tape, you really start to see how the medium influenced the way music was hawked. Not only do you have the choice (albeit now a somewhat ridiculous choice - why fast forward when you can skip... or shuffle?) to skip past songs, you also now have the ability to buy blank music media and record whatever song you want on the cassette. Ah yes, the mix tape. From the cassette tape to the CD, song preference becomes even easier, and the mix tape offers a light to the mix CD. From the CD, the MP3 was a New York subway train.

Concurrent with these developments was a significant change in the landscape of music. If we look specifically at the CD era of music, we can spot the pinnacle of this trend without tracing it through history. By the time the CD-form of music saturates the market, we have a thriving style of music widely embraced by the POPular masses. Pop music is not just a slice, it's the whipped cream on top of every slice. There's a pop form for just about every version and this pop music is driving the financial growth of the music industry, so much so that they start to figure out that if a band can put together two or three radio-worthy singles, then the record companies can sell whole albums based on just a couple of songs. Who cares if the rest of the music is horrible, bad, or passable? People will shell out $20 for the next big thing. Yeah, we used to pay $20 for CDs.

So, there are two movements, one towards pushing albums with only a few good songs and the other towards allowing listeners the freedom to have only the music they actually want to have. I find this fascinating, in an Emmett Brown kind of way. I think it's interesting to see how these two trends are now playing out. On one hand, pop music is going as strong as ever in the way it should - one song at a time. On the other hand, truly great music is carving out a niche of its own in this pop-crazy world - one album at a time.

Great Bands / Great Albums (in no particular order)

The Flaming Lips / Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
Fleet Foxes / Fleet Foxes
Bon Iver / For Emma, Forever Ago
Band of Horses / Cease to Begin
Brandi Carlile / The Story
Cloud Cult / The Meaning of 8
Miracle Fortress / Five Roses
Sigur Ros / Takk
Blind Pilot / Three Rounds and a Sound

And for kicks, I really can't get enough of the song "Holes," by Mercury Rev.

Almost Speechless

I have to wait how long for this?

Vintage Music

In an iTunes world, it's no longer an accomplishment to create one good song. "That's right," said Fred and Tommy Tutone agrees. For better or worse, there is now little significance in producing a song that forces someone to stop and listen for 3 minutes and 23 seconds. So what if you get to work and haven't finished a song? Just press pause on the bottom of the click wheel and catch it on the drive home.

Is this not the death of music? What ever happened to the good old days, right? I'm old enough to joke about 8-track but young enough to have no idea what an 8-track looks like. I can remember cassette tapes, though, and I grew up during the boom for CDs. Napster, Song Spy, and later Kazaa, transformed personal computers into personal schooners for techno-pirates riding open-sail over a sea of unmonitored bandwidth. Each successive development rendered the former obsolete and making music, and more specifically songs, incredibly accessible. The pirates have mostly all gone the way of their seafaring predecessors and we're left with a whole new enemy to music: the teenager.

This week, two of the top five songs on iTunes are songs by Miley Cyrus. The number one album on iTunes currently is an album by Miley Cyrus and Hannah Montana. I rest my case.

Yes, there will always be mainstream pop music, built upon the carcasses of yesterday's one hit wonders - a collection of increasingly made-up men and barely-clothed women. who knew Twisted Sister was the pinnacle of pop?

On the other hand, this is still a time of unprecedented (until it becomes a precedent) musical diversity. Much to John Mayer's Twitter chagrin, the old tunes aren't going away, and still the number of artists proliferates. Thus it is that true music snobbery remains alive and well. So it is with nose-upturned, that I salute the unique musicians. There are those who are balanced somewhere along the middle who attempt to create a unique sound, but at this point, few sounds are literally unique. Very few bands sound only like themselves. So then, what makes an artist unique, in my humble opinion, is the ability to create a unique sound consistently. This is judged not by the quality of a song but by the quality of the album. Ironically, then, in an iTunes world, the same as it was in the world of every other music medium, accomplishments are measured by the album.

Foodie Booty

If it is in fact true that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, then I am hopelessly in love with Memphis. My belly will vouch for that statement.

Last summer, there was a large gathering of Faris people (I'm not a fan of the plural form, NT Christians start thinking they are more funny than they are) in Colorado for a reunion of sorts. The first thing my grandfather said when he saw me was, "You've gotten fatter."

Thanks, man. My brain almost exploded thinking of the possible responses I could give - covering the spectrum from petulant crying fit to over-the-top crass - but perhaps I would have done well just to say, "I live in Memphis, what do you expect?"

In pirate terms, Memphis is teeming with culinary booty. Jokes about Memphis topping the "America's Fattest City" list aside, I am going to get a lot of miles out of this pun, don't worry. In fact, Memphis has so much booty (see?), I'm inclined to keep a record of it.

My most recent inspiration for blogging about food comes from a few sources. The first is cable TV. Or, more specifically, two shows: Iron Chef America and Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations. If you've watched either, then I need not type anything else. If you haven't seen those shows, then I need not talk to you anymore.

The second source was a recent meal I shared with my wife of three years on our anniversary. We had several requirements for our special meal. We wanted to have some money after it was over (but not too much). So CiCi's was out, as was Pasta Italia (those are the outliers). We want a unique experience in a romantic setting - down goes Applebee's! That pretty much left Paulette's.

Now, I've never met Paulette. If I did, I think I'd shake her hand and say, "Thanks for the good food," but, we probably wouldn't be best friends. Paulette probably lives in Germantown, drives 35 on Poplar, and has three grandkids with multiple 3-syllable names each. On the other hand, she could invite me over for dinner anytime. Paulette's has the setting down pretty nice. Overton Square is the place, after all, for good food with a dash of local charm. Being Memphis, sometimes that charm has a little less... sophisticated luxury than other more established joints in cities that have older money than Memphis (I'm looking at you Nashville). In other words, if you're wearing black pants, they'll give you a black napkin at Paulette's, but it won't be silk, which is great by me. Like Memphis, this place might be somehwat pretentious, but in the end, it's not going to try that hard.

In fact, I'd say it's just pretentious enough to offer really good food without having to pronounce words you've never seen before. The Faris rule of thumb these days is "always split," which can put more pressure on the meal. Let's just say Paulette handled the pressure to the tune of a medium-cooked filet mignon topped with a gorgonzola cheese and red wine demi-glace. That meal sings. Add to that the roasted garlic whipped potatoes (because the French aren't the mashing type) and the popovers with strawberry butter that came before the meal, and you have yourself a symphony of flavors that does not dissappoint.

In short, a meal that good gives Paulette's a place in the discussion of local Memphis culinary treasure. For me, it's not where everyone knows your name and it probably shouldn't be, but for the occassional special event, Paulette's will not disappoint. In short, it's foodie booty.

So from now on, you can look forward to the occasional post about foodie booty. Also, I'm neither fat nor fatTER. But you, Gramps, look great.

The Napkin Loaf

What do you call the package of napkins? Besides the package of napkins, because who wants to say that? Put me on the record as voting for the napkin loaf. It's important to keep it singular. No one says, "loaf of breads" and I don't think I need anything else besides that to support my argument. In fact, I think this is something even Obama and Rush can agree on.

When you think about it, the napkin loaf and the bread loaf have a lot in common. Both are packaged in such a way so that once you open the package, irreparable damage has been done. You can't reseal the bread the way it was when you bought it, and you basically have to tear the napkin package to get them out.

Both are at the bedrock of a good meal. What is a meal without bread or napkin? How else can you eat the thin layer of chili left in the bowl except with bread? How else can you wipe up the thick layer of chili on your pants except with your napkin? I can't tell you how many times I've sat down to a meal and thought, "Man, we need some rolls" and then stuck some in the oven to complete a plated filet mignon sprinkled with Gorgonzola cheese and a red wine demi glaze with whipped garlic potatoes. I can't tell you because I don't keep track of these things, but it's happened a lot. I also can't tell you how many times I've sat down after putting some nice Sister Schubes on the plate with said filet and thought, "Man, where's my napkin slice?"

Likewise, both are unappreciated on the ends. Is there a more hated part of a piece of good food than the heels on a loaf of bread? I'd rather eat the bottom half of a muffin than the butt of the bread loaf. I'd rather eat a half sandwich or a piece of toast for lunch than make a whole sandwich with one of the slices be the heel. If bread heels were money and I worked in or at a trash dump, I'd be rich because I'm pretty sure the proper etiquette for throwing away the packaging after finishing a loaf of bread is to make sure the heels are still in the bag and then putting the bag in the trash can.

At the same time, what's going on with the heel of the napkin loaf? Who decided that in order to wrap the napkin loaf properly it is necessary to glue the napkins on either end of the loaf to the packaging? And who are we to decide that those napkins are a lost cause? "No," we decide" this napkin, whose very purpose is to clean up my mess, is not even worth wiping the dirty chili stain from my mouth." That doesn't make sense to me. Somehow, this napkin is too wrinkled for me to get it dirty... wiping up this dog vomit from the floor (note to self: do not start by taking the dog on a one-mile run in 80-degree weather - we build up to that).

I wish I could say the connection is that I wrote this blog post on the back of the heel of a napkin loaf, but I can't - mostly because how do you determine which is the front and which is the back when both sides look the same? No, instead, I think the connection is that lately, I've used this blog kind of like how most of us use the heel of a loaf of napkin/bread. That is, not at all. Sorry about that. On the bright side, you get this post rather than me writing about how I took Moses for a run lately and he threw up on the floor twice after that and then posting pictures of it. (read: I'm back. You're welcome.)

Wow

I have not posted in a long time. Inspiration runs short these days, I suppose. I hate to be a tease, but that's all I've got for now. Oh, I finished my taxes yesterday so yay for me.