.plan

I had a dream the other day. It included a child, more specifically my future child, at about 2 or 3 years of age. It was a quick glimpse of the future, the child and I were together and, if I’m not mistaken, on the front step of a house (I’ll guess my own). The biggest thing I remember is looking at his or her little shoes. At that moment, I awoke and thought, “Oh my God. We’re going to have a child”.

It’s not like I didn’t know. I’ve mentioned it a couple of times here and these days, more often than not, the concept twists around in my brain. However, it is starting to settle in. Our recent OB visit went well. Jenn’s belly is getting a bit harder and bit larger every week and with it, reality is beginning to take hold. For the record, her cute little belly is a sexy little thing.

After all, you only get a couple major events in your life. Graduation, marriage, and children are easily the biggest three that I can think of and, now, the last of those is just around the corner. It will change everything.

I’m still coming to grips with the idea of the wife and I being trusted with such a tiny, precious life. Isn’t there a test we need to take? Ah, yes, the answer is A, isn’t it, no B? Where are our references? The dog and the cat may vouch for us, but it isn’t like they are anxious to voice their opinion. I’d like to see your qualifications, sir.

What a challenge ahead. It’s not a stretch to say that his or her first little steps in those little shoes will be a huge leap in both my life and that of my wife. I only need to temper my anxiety with my impatience. I can’t wait. I just can’t wait.

Recently, but not too recently, I was introduced to a kind of music I barely
even knew existed. A type of music that I had no real interest in and a type
of music that my sampling of at the time was, thankfully, not representative of
the genre as a whole. That music was Christian rock or Contemporary Christian
music, as it is often referred.

The problem with the label of Contemporary Christian music is somewhat indicative
of my past problems with Christian music as a whole. See, “Contemporary Christian”
music really covers the gamut of music styles, a gamut that is crowded with
all sorts of music from rock to gospel, but is overwhelmingly represented by
what I would call light tunes. You know, the kind of music that sounds like
Yanni got a hold of some classic 80’s pop and slowed it down a bit for the old folks.
The majority of Contemporary Christian music played on the radio very much falls
into this or the gospel category. Neither of these particularly interest me
so I never really gave any Christian music the time of day.

Well, along came a spider in the form of some mp3’s from
Steven Curtis Chapman,
borrowed from a friend partially by accident. It just happened to tag along with some
other stuff I was interested in. Funny thing is, my first impressions weren’t
all that positive, something along the lines of “Wow, this is a bit too in
your face for me”. I hadn’t really heard faith expressed so openly in a form
of music I really liked. I gave it more play time and the album,
Speechless,
is now probably one of my favorite albums of all time. I still enjoy it.

Timing is everything. The current state of rock has really bored me. I don’t
know what it is. Maybe I’m growing up and my tastes are changing. The
Lynyrd Synyrd, Rush, and Led Zepplin well was exhausted years ago (although
Rush’s new one isn’t bad and the new Lynyrd Synryrd stuff is really good).
Dave Matthew’s Band, the Bare Naked Ladies, Creed, and others haven’t
been releasing things quickly enough. A lot of the rock released the past
couple of years could have been done by the same band for all I know. So
what am I to do? Look for more stuff like the album that initially grabbed
my interest.

And boy did I. First, I went after some more stuff by Steven Curtis Chapman.
He has a ton of albums, and just happened to release a new one a month
after I heard Speechless. Since then, I’ve added
Third Day, which is probably my
favorite Christian band at the moment, and Jennifer Knapp (actually, I grabbed
one of her albums before I ever heard Mr. Chapman’s tunes, but that is another
story) along with bands such as Mercy Me to my play, and CD, list. I even added
Nichole Nordeman before going
to see both Steven Curtis Chapman and her in concert.
Nichole, by the way, has one of the best Christian songs out there, named Why,
from her This Mystery album.Check it out if you get the chance.

At a later date I may go more into what has drawn me to Christian music and
what I’m listening to now. But for now, especially since this entry is running
a bit long, I’m just happy to tap my foot (along with the desk, my legs, and
other random objects) along to something that both inspires me and gives me
something to listen to until the next
Eminem CD makes it way out the door.
Yep, I own the last two albums of his, including the new one. Sue me.

You know, there is something about spending some time pondering the
location of poop, especially when that poop doesn’t actually exist yet.
However, that is just what my wife and I have been doing on and off for the past
couple of days.

See, we have a bit of a quandry. It involves our cat, our upcoming

bundle of joy, and, well, the cat’s pooper.

At the moment, the cat’s little box of presents rests in what Jenn and I
affectionately call the baby’s room. Why do we call it that? There are two reasons.
First, on our first visit to the house, the little old lady who owned it
had a beautiful crib in it as well as (if I remember correctly) a rocking
chair and other assorted baby furniture. Given the fact that we had baby on the
brain even then (2 1/2 years ago), I can’t help but think that the room
subconsiously factored into our eventual buying decision. Second, because
of reason one, we had always earmarked the room for our first child. After
all, I quickly stole the other (and larger) bedroom for my computer
equipment.

Why would we place the cat’s little sand dune into a room slated for our first
offspring? It was mostly out of convenience. The wife and I haven’t used the room
for much of anything since we moved in. My mom gave me my old bed and the
soon to be baby’s room was transformed into a guest room, a room that was
rarely, if ever, used. That still doesn’t quite explain it. After all, there
were other rooms available. What about the laundry room in the basement? Enter
the dog. Our cuddly, but hyperactive, little (or not so little) mutt. He can
also be labeled the cat’s worst nightmare.

Believe it or not, the cat doesn’t really like the dog (unless that hissing
noise she makes is a sign of affection). The dog needed a home for his crate
and, given its size, it was an easy decision to put it in the laundry room. The
cat quickly, and in no uncertain terms, let us know that she would rarely visit
that room again. The wife and I, being good, honest, poo-fearing people, promptly
moved the box upstairs to its current resting place.

Now the smelly box has to move but where to? The computer room is a good candidate.
It actually housed the box for a while before. However, the smell of urine while
I type just doesn’t quite agree with me (Hmm, what about the closet in the computer
room?). Our bedroom, the whole first floor, and the living room are out for
obvious reasons (too well visited, too visible). The laundry room may be
reinstated. It is still the most desirable area and we are crating the dog less and
less every day. The problem is that we are scared to make the transition. We
don’t want to give the cat a reason to make a new sandbox of her own.

We may try a gradual transition, placing the box closer and closer to its desired
location until the kitty submits to our will. I may consider placing it on the roof.
In any case, we could use your prayers. Here’s hoping that my next present is
placed in wrapping paper, not presented to me on my pillow.

I love pizza. I don’t know exactly why I love it so but I do. In fact,
if I had to take just one food along with me to a desert island, pizza would
be it. Never mind that I don’t know why I’m going and why I actually get to
make this choice. Pizza would be going with me.

The funny thing is I don’t think I really care what this theorectical pizza
has on it, as long as there isn’t a vegetable in sight. Give me sausage, pepperoni,
ground beef, ham, bacon, extra cheese, or some combination thereof and I’m game.
You’d think that if I have to eat this thing for the rest of my life, I’d
be pretty choosy, but I’m not.

Maybe there is a life lesson to be learned here.

Some of you would undoubtably suggest that straight cheese is the way to go.
After all, you better go the safe route and stick with something normal and simple.
There may some truth to that. However, wouldn’t you want something to loosen up
all that cheese you’ll be eating, maybe even something spicy? Others may suggest
a pizza with everything on it. Pick off the stuff you don’t want and save it for
later. Maybe even feed the local rats the extras to fatten them up. That sounds
way too close to logic there folks. I’ll have none of that in this conversation.
Even so, what if the pizza delivery guy waits for me and watches me eat it, just
to make sure. I’m unlikely to piss off my primary source of food, particularly if
the only alternative are the rats from the first episode of Survivor (maybe Richard
could go get me some fish and stay clothed while he’s at it). The fact that
I don’t really care at this point means that laziness even has its place far
out in the ocean where only the pizza man knows the directions or simply that
I’m not the picky eater my mom always said I was.

Do I think I could sustain myself on any such diet? Sure. Why? Well, two
reasons. One, I love pizza (see above). Two, I have the track record. I worked
at a deli (actually a Pizza & Deli) for 4 years in college and ate pizza nearly
every day I worked there. That means that pizza entered the cavern I call my
stomach pizza about 3 days a week for years and I never got sick of it. Never.
I can’t help but feel a bit proud … and a bit ashamed (but more proud,
particularly in that macho, fraternity sort of way).

On second thought, maybe there is no life lesson here. But all this talk is sure
getting me hungry this late in the evening and I had
pizza for lunch.