For those of you that couldn't be there, I thought I would share with you a snippet of the evening's festivities. Basically when the Benson meat smorgishboard comes out, so do the crazies. Off to the left you'll notice Jen's splendid cake straight from Haagen-Dazs. Super Yum! Below you have Gen vs. Shelli to see who can out-sky the other in a jumping high five contest. Truthfully, this took many tries to get right because of interference from not so innocent bystanders.
And over here you have Mere "crazy red eyes" O'Neal. Yeah, she's really that crazy.
And finally a little video clip for your viewing pleasure. This might have been the funniest way ever to sing happy birthday, so I highly recommend some rendition of this the next time you have a friend who has a birthday.
This week I have volunteered as an interpreter for the Springdale Public School system [thanks Sra. Jaime], and it has been one heck of an adventure. The first night I was at an elementary school which was super fun because little kids are so innocent and playful. One little child asked his mom in spanish, "Mommy, why is that man so big?" I was just going to let it slide until I found myself in their classroom as their interpreter five minutes later. Needless to say, the little guy was a bit bashful after that.
The reason for the title of my post is because that was the one question that every parent, without exception, asked of the teacher before leaving. I would help them go over the grades and their child's classroom performance with moderate interest, but upon breaching the subject of behavior, every parent came to edge of their seat in perfect attention to what was being said. I really found it to be pretty refreshing that all these parents were genuinely concerned with the social fabric of their child. Unfortunately there are probably just as many parents who could care less about their kids' behavior.....and that's why they weren't at the conferences I suppose.
In unrelated news, starting Monday at work, I have to go back to business professional attire (tie & jacket) along with all the other guys. Such crap. But it's ok: I hear the same dress code doesn't exist in Mexico.
In case you haven't heard of this guy, he is amazingly talented and hilariously funny. Here's a part of one of his sets. I know there's not any video, but it's still gut-splitting. Just search for him on YouTube if you want the full course. Enjoy.
Of the last five people that I've met, they are all different people with different backgrounds, ages, and genders. However the first question is always the same, "So I can just find you on Facebook right?" *sigh*
I have held out so long mostly because I don't want to commit too much time to the world-wide interweb, but it seems that in order to stay connected, or meet anyone, I have to bow down to the monster that is Facebook. Unfortunately my fears seem to be coming true as I have spent multiple hours on this crazy thing in my first day. Grrrr.... So, now you can find me all over the internet via the book of faces and if I should run into you, watch out: you just might get "poked."
There is a Christian music artist that I have only recently become aware of named Phil Wickham and he has a song entitled: "Divine Romance." Apart from being a truly genius song musically, the lyrics speak to something that is a struggle for most all Christians the world over I imagine (if not, then I must say that it is surely my greatest struggle). This struggle is the need to be satisfied by the intimate relationship that Christ promises we can have with him. Too often my actions show that I don't believe that He is capable of fulfilling me and this usually leads to bad decisions that hurt myself or worse: I hurt others around me. He wants us to seek Him in love! Without further elaboration (because that would take several pages) I will leave you, my dear reader, with the lyrics for this song:
The fullness of Your grace is here with me The richness of Your beauty's all I see The brightness of Your glory has arrived In Your presence God, I'm completely satisfied
For You, I sing I dance Rejoice in this divine romance Lift my heart and my hands to show my love To show my love......
A deep, deep flood an ocean flows from YouA deep, deep love is filling up the room Your innocent blood has washed my guilty life In Your presence God I'm completely satisfied
For You, I sing I dance Rejoice in this divine romance Lift my heart and my hands to show my love To show my love......
I say this more for my own reassurance rather than an announcement or anything. I will explain.
I have various duties here at my job that validate my education: financial analysis, drawing up loan proposals, translating, etc. I also have some duties that give me the "opportunity" to get away from my desk for a short while and help maintain the facility. In one day this week I: took old newspapers to the Humane Society, swept away dead bugs and debris from in front of the bank, picked up trash all around the property, sprayed Round-Up on all rogue weeds in the parking lot and in the beds, hammered an advertisement sign into our lawn next to the road, cleaned up a ceiling tile that fell to the floor in a pile of mush after a leak in the roof destroyed it, and lastly I was put in charge of disposing of a possum that one of my co-workers ran over in the parking lot (yes, blood was everywhere). Did I really go to college for this?
Unfortunately Shelli has already stolen some of my thunder from this story on her blog, but she did an index so I'm sure I can shed some more light on the details of this adventure.
The night started out at Common Grounds with a birthday party for yours truly. We were on the back patio upstairs and it was awesome! (thanks Shelli for remembering that the upstairs patio is my fav) Most of my closest friends - who are still in Fayetteville - were there and we passed a few hours just chatting and enjoying the beautiful weather and tasty beer.
So upon the adjournment of that fiesta, the Jones and I were heading to our vehicles when we noticed a couple of curiously posed ladies in front of a table of wine at the bottom the Legacy building. Hmmm..... Luckily I have a friend who lives in the building so I knew the door code (which is mind-blowingly simple for a multi-million dollar, multi-purpose building off of Dickson St.). So we enter:
"Wine, or anything to drink?" ask the elegantly clad hostesses. Before we could muster an answer, they informed us, "The party is on the fifth floor."
"Is it now....." I muse to myself while rubbing my chin in my mind's eye.
After making a phone call to a friend of mine who is a well connected realtor, we confirmed that the shindig is in fact being hosted by the real estate mogul who developed this very swank building. Game on! So the Jones and I, feeling emboldened by a sense of destiny and a couple of beers, head to the fifth floor to see just what all this hooplah is about. After spending the better part of 5 minutes coaxing one half of the Jones down the hallway, we burst onto the scene. You know what we found??? SUPER LAME PARTY. Super cheap beer, weirdo caterers who passed Tang off as a proprietary punch recipe, and Mustache McGee (story available in person).
We drank in the great night skyline of Dickson along with some free bevies and then left. Kind of a letdown but I doubt that I would've found anything better to do at home. Thanks to the Jones for such a fun night!
For those of you that couldn't be there, I thought I would share with you a snippet of the evening's festivities. Basically when the Benson meat smorgishboard comes out, so do the crazies. Off to the left you'll notice Jen's splendid cake straight from Haagen-Dazs. Super Yum! Below you have Gen vs. Shelli to see who can out-sky the other in a jumping high five contest. Truthfully, this took many tries to get right because of interference from not so innocent bystanders.
And finally a little video clip for your viewing pleasure. This might have been the funniest way ever to sing happy birthday, so I highly recommend some rendition of this the next time you have a friend who has a birthday.
