Message at God’s house
August’s fulfillment

Cab to Jeno’s
Numbers rising

While fingers count
Darkness bends to light

Grease hangs in air
Destination come

Crowds imagined, gone
Untasted now tasted

Wrappings discarded
Mystery passed

Left on foot
Food surrounds

Speaking only English
In little Mexico

Markets shuttered
Curiosity set aside

Turning now
Light tempts

Walking steadily
Perhaps not wise

A man said no
All is well

Feet uncovered
Now wealth surrounds

Flowers held
Quick backward glances

Meet a hero
Stumbling forth

Not tonight
A hero’s lament

Questions of a girl
Playing the fools

Walnuts appear
Broad views subside

Wine and cigarettes lead
Directions come

Thank the studded one
Counting down

Sweet Bangkok’s found
Peter and Paul’s quest

One path found
Three tiered souls

New journeys begin
Until truth is found

Netflix jogged these frustrating memories by completely usurping the service outage experience with stellar customer service. Not only did they own up to the responsibility for the outage (I had no idea of the cause) but Netflix also jumped ahead of me by offering a credit to my account. Netflix even let me know when it would be applied — most companies seem to take forever crediting your account.

It’s too bad I don’t have to recall that far back for a taxing credit-deserving experience with other companies.

At times it feels I can’t do the right thing. If I ignore her too much I’ll know about it soon enough. If I pay too much attention, she shoos me away. I suppose she’s looking for freedom, well, safe freedom. “Let me do what I want but make sure you are there if I need you.”

One day a week we are together downtown for the evening. It’s always enjoyable as we walk and talk about the day. Dinner is in a local food court. After she eats she may visit a shop while I finish my meal. If the shop she is visiting is behind me, after she leaves the table I will change seats to keep the shop within eye site. Undoubtedly upon returning she makes a comment on my new sitting position. Of course I reply with some made-up reason such as, “It is quieter sitting in this direction.” I’m sure she knows this is a bit silly and I think she in some way appreciates my true intent even though she may express exasperation at my silliness.

While I may not always know where I fit in her life at any given a moment I do cherish that our relationship seems better than concerns I hear from other parents. One mother asked me, “Does she still enjoy being with you and is she still talking to you?” A moment of hesitation met the question because this is a scenario that had not entered my consciousness and in no way reflects our reality. Maybe that is a reality for a future not far from now but I prefer to keep that possibility out of my relationship scenario-bank.

We are entering a stage in her life that everyone seemed to warn of. I remember talking to parents of older girls and noting to myself that, “I’ll stick with seven-year-old girl problems.” The seven-year-old girl problems are gone now and so far we’ve been lucky with the pre-teen problems. There have been more discussions about changes with behavior, social discussions, and more privileges permitted friends. Many wants have gone unanswered although we are by no means making her live a 19th century life. (Maybe that’s too far back, let’s say she is by no means leading a 20th century life.) Her world includes Wii, an iPod Touch and Netflix but, unlike “most” friends, no full-out phone. She is smart and has figured out that an iPod with Wi-Fi access is a phone but this doesn’t quite meet her socially influenced expectations — being tethered to a wireless connection. (Our evenings do often include a little time sitting outside the Apple store borrowing their wireless access.)

Of course we worry about excessive exposure to an electronic life and set boundaries but I’m not sure it is worse than the excessive exposure to Gilligan’s Island, Batman and goofy sitcoms that we grew up with. When the favorite show is material like the new Dr. Who I think we’re doing okay. When a girl, who ironically thinks of her dad as a nerd, wants to leave a party to enjoy a Dr. Who marathon — a nerd-fest of major proportion — one can only smile and be pleased.

Looks and feels great. Much more comfortable and inviting. A tired person worked hard pushing to finish this chair and is now ready to enjoy it. Just to be clear, I am not the upholsterer. I am the beneficiary of her upholstery efforts.

Valentine's Gnome

Here are a few pics of the original drawing and the block for printing.

In this case Google is the nickname given to an infant by a caring burglar in “The Transfer of Google” by E. J. Rath from Everybody’s Magazine in the January 1908 edition. Google is found home alone one evening by a nurturing burglar. The relationship between these two needy souls has each fulfilling a need in the other’s life. What makes one feel better than to be cared for by a loving person (regardless of their status) or to care for someone in need? (Okay, maybe I read too much into the story but it is cute and worth a few minutes of your time to read.)

Much like the burglar searching for treasures, our searches for information have their own Google. Sometimes too much time can be spent and I too can end up feeling like our besieged burglar, knowing I need to move on or, as the burglar states,

Well, I can’t waste no more time with Google.

But you just can’t let them go.