SO WHAT HAVE WE LEARNED?

So, it’s the 30th of November and this is the 30th post of the month. And that means I’ve actually succeeded in posting every day in November. While this is the third year I’ve taken this challenge, the task seems a little more daunting this year. I’ve got a newborn daughter and increasing demands on my time. Furthermore, this blog was almost completely dormant for about two months this year. So I wanted to see if I could post something every day, and if those posts could mostly be original pieces of writing.

For the most part, it worked. I wrote a lot more stuff than I usually would and came closer to finding my voice (to use a term I hate) during this new phase of my life. Turns out, I love complaining about my children. Who knew?

And what now? The fact is, I can’t really keep posting every day. There’s sleep I need to get and a marriage I need to keep afloat and a podcast to produce and kids with butts that won’t wipe themselves. Writing every day here just isn’t something that I can do right now. But I can say that I’ll write more… more than I did before this month. So that’s a good thing.

Now if you’ll excuse me, there are bags of human poop I need to remove from our home.

UNIVERSITY CHALLENGE

Today, a little British comedy featuring future legends Stephen Fry, Hugh Laurie, Ben Elton, and Emma Thompson. Oh yes, and the cast of "The Young Ones."

BAD IDEAS FROM THE INTERNET

More proof that a TV station with an electronic billboard and a Twitter account can be a dangerous thing.

Somebody got the idea to link the Twitter account and the billboard so the billboard would show the latest Twitter headline. And they ended up with this...



Not surprisingly, some people have been suspended over this. You can read the full story here.

FAROE FRIDAY: MEMORIES

Short memory of the Faroes:

It’s late Friday night. Actually, it’s Saturday morning, about 2:30 or so. I’m at the G! Festival listening to some techno DJ spin tunes at the dance area. It was my first day at the festival, which is staged on a beach at the end of a fjord. On one side of the beach, jagged green mountains plunge directly into the black waters of the North Sea. Despite the early hour, the morning sun is starting to near the horizon, casting an orange light on the mountains and the water and during the sky on the opposite side a deep purple.

I don’t know this DJ’s name, but he’s good. He’s spinning a really fun mix. I’m still adjusting to the time change, so I’m too tired to dance, but I’m happy just to stand by myself and take in the scene before me.

A guy walks up to me. His English is so good I take him for an Asian-American, but I later learn he's Faroese and has some sort of Asian background. He recognizes me from the podcast I produce and asks, “so what do you think of all this?”

I look around me, at this funky little village, at the beautiful people dancing all around me, at the free light show playing out on the hillsides. Then I listen for a few more seconds to the awesome music that’s washing over me. I turn back to him and say this:

“Right here, right now, this is the best place on earth. This place, these people, this music… there is nobody in the world that has it better than you and me right now. I’ll accept that there may be somebody somewhere who has it almost as good. But nobody has it better than us. Nobody. Don’t ever forget this… right now. For a few moments, you were in the best place on earth.”

He nods, gives me a hug, and walks away. I go back to listening to the music.

THANKFULNESS

What am I thankful for? Let me count...

One.
Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Julie counts twice. After all, she is Julie.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

(Note: These photos aren't even remotely current.)

JIMMY DOES NEIL DOES FRESH PRINCE

Jimmy Fallon doing a spooky-good impersonation of Neil Young singing the theme from "Fresh Prince of Bel Air."

CAREER CRIMINAL

Earlier this week, I shared the sad story of a lovely little boy who turned into a pathological liar/professional actor. Because Will was the subject of that post, you may have inferred that Nate is the twin that has decided to fly straight. But you’d be wrong.

Instead, Nate has descended into a life of crime that has resulted in him spending a lot of time in the big house (his bedroom, for the purpose of “time out.”). While Will sticks to the elaborate hoax designed to raise money for insurance companies, Nate is more interested in petty theft (from his brother), protection rackets (protecting his toys from his brother), and Rebel Without a Cause-style rule flouting.

Most troubling is how comfortable Nate is living inside the criminal justice system. Yesterday, he was naughty at preschool, and the penalty was that he had to go straight to naptime when he came home and couldn’t watch any Elmo. We got home and Will ran to the TV so he could watch, and I directed Nate towards his bedroom so he could start serving his punishment. Rather than yelling or screaming, he just took off his shoes and crawled into bed. Then he pointed to the humidifier, which we use to create white noise while the boys sleep. He wanted to make sure I had turned it on before I left him there. Then Nate picked up a book and went off into his own world.

A similar thing happened later that night. Nate and Will had been in bed for about an hour, when I hear the light turn on in their room. We’ve had a lot of problems with lights being turned on and marathon roughhousing sessions taking place after the little guys have been put to bed. And when I come in to stop the riot, they just laugh and smile. So we’ve implemented a new policy: any time things get so out of hand that I have to come to their bedroom to break things up, I walk out with a favorite toy of theirs. It can be harsh, but it usually stops the uprising in its tracks.

So I hear the light turn on and I go to Nate and Will’s room put down the rebellion. When I arrive, Nate doesn’t even look up from his book. He just holds up his favorite toy so I could more easily retrieve it. Then, as I left the room, Nate took one final drag off his cigarette, marked another day off his calendar with a pocket knife, and flipped me the middle finger.

Clearly I’m going to need to find new forms of punishment.

HEE HAW! A COUNTRY MUSIC PODCAST!

Nobody is more surprised than me.

I produce a podcast about the Faroe Islands, and now know that there is a thriving country music scene there. In this podcast I speak with an American musician and composer who has helped produce Faroese country albums for the past 20 years.

You can listen on our blog page : http://faroepodcast.blogspot.com/ or search iTunes for "Faroe Islands Podcast."

Or you can just download the file directly here:

http://media.libsyn.com/media/faroepodcast/Podcast_32.mp3

OUR BUDDING SOCIOPATH

On a Saturday afternoon about a week ago, Will sat in his highchair and exclaimed, "uh, oh!" He had been eating lunch, but now he was clutching his nostril with a concerned look. After a little bit of questioning, he said he had stuffed a raisin up his nose. I grabbed a flashlight and could, indeed, see something dark shoved deep up his right nostril. It was up there pretty far, though, and our tweezers had sharp edges that could easily cut the inside of Will's nose.

About that time, I remembered something a paramedic once told me about what can happen to dried fruit when it's in a humid environment and how that can eventually block airways. After consulting with a nurse friend of ours (Hi, Ronnie!) we loaded Will up in the car and took him to the doctor's office.

Luckily for us, our pediatrician actually has Saturday office hours. Will strode into the office and declared, "I have a raisin in my nose." We paid our $20 co-pay and moments later, a doctor with remarkable skills removed the raisin in a split second. I took will back out to the car, gave him a big hug, and told him how scary that was and how I was glad he was OK. I hoped he had learned his lesson.

He had, just not the right lesson.

It's Saturday night, last night, and Will is sitting in his highchair. When our backs are turned, we hear, "uh, oh" from Will, and he's grasping at his nose. "Will put goldfish in nose!"

AGAIN? YOU SHOVED SOMETHING UP YOUR NOSE AGAIN? OH, COME ON KID! YOU ACT REALLY SMART, BUT THAT'S JUST ABOUT THE STUPIDEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD!

Instead of delivering that rant, I grab a flashlight and peered up his nose. There is something orange lodged deep up there. All the doctor's offices are closed, so this time we have to go to the emergency room. We bundle up Will and take him out to the car. But something seems odd as Will waves goodbye to his brother Nate, who was starting to cry because he isn't getting to go on the car ride with Daddy. Will was smiling broadly. We get into the car and Will joyfully declares, "We're going to the doctor!"

We arrive at the ER, march up to the desk, pay our $75 co-pay and will shouts, "I have a goldfish up my nose!"

We wait, and wait, and wait. Will bounces off the waiting room walls and points out which light bulbs have burned out and asking me to fix them. He asks to play games and read stories. He's having the time of his life.

We are eventually ushered into a room where we wait some more and fill out forms and wait some more and Will is starting to grow tired and we wait some more and someone comes in to check that we're insured and we wait some more. After about 30 minutes in the room, a doctor comes in and looks into Will's nose.

"Which nostril is the goldfish in?" the doctor asks.

"The right," I say, as Will points to his left nostril.

The doctor furrows her eyebrows and checks both, then wipes off her lens, and checks again. She pinches Will's upper nose and looks again.

After a few more moments, she was ready with her diagnosis: your son is a liar.

That's right, there is absolutely no evidence of a foreign object being shoved up Will's nose. That orange thing I saw with the flashlight a few hours earlier? Most likely a booger. On the drive home, Will confesses to the whole thing.

Now it's Sunday and we're still dealing with the reality that we either have an Oscar-worthy actor on our hands or a pathological liar. Of course, there is a lot of overlap in those categories.

Needless to say, he's grounded until he's 25.

IF I RAN MY OWN CHURCH...

FAROE FRIDAY: RIDE 'EM, KOVBOY

This week's Faroe Friday post concerns Kovboy Films. Kovboy (pronounced, I'm assuming, "cowboy") is an ad agency that produces some really fun stuff. You can see their portfolio by clicking the link above. They've also shot a series of short videos about the Faroe Islands. Many appear to be shot in HD, and they're quite beautiful.

So here's an example of what they're doing, and you can see other videos in the series by checking out their YouTube channel.

ENVIRONMENTALLY UNFRIENDLY

For most of my adult life, I’ve considered myself somewhat eco friendly. I recycle and don’t drive an SUV and I don’t dump nuclear waste down the storm drains or anything like that. Indeed, I’m all about Feeding the Children and Saving the Whales and Feeding the Children to the Whales.

However, I’m starting to reconsider all that.

You see, the major motivation for being environmentally responsible, apart from liberal guilt, is your children. I’ve got somewhere between 40 to 60 years left on this planet and even if I spent the whole time in an idling Hummer, I couldn’t do enough damage to the planet to affect me. But there’s a chance I could do enough damage to impact the earth in my kid’s lifetime. So we crusty old people sacrifice a little bit so there will be something leftover for our kids.

But not I’m starting to think that our kids are, in fact, the problem. Let’s start with Eliza. In the six short weeks she has been alive, she’s become one of the biggest methane producers in all if Oregon. Methane, as I’m sure you know, it just about the most potent greenhouse gas out there. Much, much worse than carbon dioxide. She wears disposable diapers, which aren’t good for the environment, but I guess that’s my fault. But she craps in such a way as to ensure that we use twice as many as we should. For instance, when we change her diaper, she holds a little poop back until we have placed the new diaper underneath her. Then she lets it go. She’s clearly doing this on purpose.

The biggest offenders, however, are Nate and Will (pictured above). They are major methane emitters as well, but that’s just the start. Our little guys aren’t happy unless they are wasting as much electricity and water as possible. Before they can sit down for dinner, they have to make sure every light in the house is turned on. The ceiling fan on the outside porch must also be on. I have no idea why.

Toilet flushing is also a hobby for Nate and Will. As soon as they could walk, they little guys were in the bathroom flushing the toilet. They love flushing that toilet. They’re in the process of being toilet trained. Nate and Will only pee in the toilet, the poo still goes in a diaper, which goes into a landfill, which is really bad for the environment.

So anyway, an ideal day for Nate and Will would involve turning on every light in the house, then repeatedly flushing the toilet while stuffing the commode with toilet paper taken from old growth rainforest… then afterwards, clubbing a baby seal to death with the carcass of a komodo dragon.

My point is this: my kids really hate the environment, so why am I trying to preserve it for them? If anything, we should try to destroy the planet together. It would be a shame if they got to destroy the planet after I was dead. That’s really something you should experience as a family.

FISH SLAPPING

I'm not feeling well this evening, so I'll have to forgo writing tonight. Instead, please enjoy some of the 15 funniest seconds committed to film... the Fish Slapping Dance.

TOLLAK HANSEN: COMING TO AMERICA

Back when I first started writing about the Faroe Islands about two years ago, I made it known that I wanted to have people from the Faroe Islands read and comment on this blog. A few weeks later, a person using the handle "Faroe Man" left a short message on one of my posts.

From those humble beginnings, a friendship was built. We started collaborating on a podcast, and he eventually hosted me when I visited the Faroes this past summer and is working to make another possible visit happen next summer.

So it is with great joy that I announce that Tollak will wash up on the shores of America in a few short weeks. He's going to Washington DC to write about... something. I'm not quite sure what he's writing about, but that's not really the point. The point is that he's coming to America, which is something he's wanted to do for some time.

I've really wanted to return the favor Tollak paid me by showing him around the US. But when you live in a country that stretches across an entire continent, that's not always so easy. I'm about 3,000 miles from DC, and abandoning a wife with a newborn child for a weekend just isn't an option right now.

But I will send my best wishes, and some tips on things to do, and hope that we can cross paths in America sometime in the near future.

Congratulations, Tollak.

SOME SAME

Some people say all newborn babies look alike, and some also believe that all baby photos are the same too. What a foolish notion this is. Check out this photo of Eliza. A simple photo of her in one of her Sunday dresses. But now look at what else we have...

In this one, you can see her legs, and part of my shoes. See? Completely different. Now, look at this picture...

Ok, that may actually be the same photo downloaded twice. Computers! What are you going to do about them? But I think you'll agree that this picture is qutie different...

A stunning closeup that reveals Eliza's blue eyes... and that dry patch of skin above her eyes. Now in the photo below, Eliza is doing her impression of those 1930s monster movies.

Change that just a little bit... and she's flashing a gang sign...

I think these last two photos show just how different similar images can be. Here we have Eliza on her blanket looking cute...

And this, well... this is just perfection.

LL COOL J

A week or so I posted some old school hip hop, so I thought I'd post some more.

In 1987, I was watching Saturday Night Live. Sean Penn (who at the time was married to Madonna) was the host and did a bunch of pretty funny skits. Then, about 40 minutes in, this came on. LL Cool J wasn't the first rap act to appear on SNL, that was actually the Funky 4+1 More in 1981. But when you look at the audience, it was obvious they hadn't seen much of this kind of thing.

Despite the tepid response, LL still managed to blow the roof off 30 Rock that night. The audio is crap on this clip, but it's still exciting to see when hip hop was still new and exciting and desperate to prove they deserved the respect afforded to rock artists.

CHURCH SIGNS RETURN

The church sign action around Medford has been terrible. As a matter of fact, one church has actually taken their sign down. For shame.

But the church on Main street sometimes still has something worthwhile. Last week, their sign featured this gem, prompting the question: "But what if my problem is that I have a pocket with a hole in it?" Food for thought.

FAROE FRIDAY: FAROE ISLANDS REVIEW

This week we give a big shout out and plug to a site run by a dear friend. The Faroe Islands Review has information about the Faroes in English and is sort of a clearinghouse for photos, stories, and videos about the islands. It also has a full archive of the Faroe Islands Podcast, featuring me.

So if you're interested in learning more about the Faroes, the Review is a good place to start.

This week's Faroe Photo is of Kirkjubøur. The village is considered the spiritual center of the Faroes. It is the site of three churches (one still intact), some of which date back to the middle ages. There's also a home that has been occupied by a single family for 17 generations.

It's a beautiful place. I've been there. So there.

ARGUMENT

I was going to write some lofty dispatch on corporate greed, and I'm certain I will before the month is up. But it's late and I'm tired, so instead I'll offer up one of my favorite Monty Python sketches: Argument Clinic.

THANKS, VETS

I’ve not had much contact with the military in my life. I’ve got an uncle who reached a very high rank in the Marines, and my grandfathers both served in the military during World War Two. But other than that, I’d not spoken with many people who served in the military.

One notable exception was when I was living in San Diego as a Mormon missionary. I had a long conversation with a sailor in the Navy. I remember asking him about anti-military protestors (we weren’t at war back then) and how they affected their morale. He said they didn’t bother him at all. As a matter of fact, he was happy those people were able to express their opinions in a country where dissent was tolerated and sometimes even encouraged. “So even if they don’t like me, the freedom to express that is my gift to them,” he said.

That was over 20 years ago, but that conversation stuck with me. In the years since, I’ve spent a lot of time sitting in the comfort of my home or an office spouting off in print about my dissatisfactions with one government policy or another. Once I even went out on a warm Los Angeles afternoon and walked with thousands of protesters against the imminent invasion of Iraq.

But in my comfort, I’ve tried not to forget about the immense privilege granted me by those willing to serve their country. They put their lives on the line to create a safe space were peaceniks can march in the plaza or Glenn Beck can spin nutty theories on television, or comedians can merciless mock our elected leaders. It’s an amazing gift we’ve been given. That we can pretty much take that gift for granted is proof of how complete that gift is.

So on this Veteran’s Day, those of us who are fat and pampered need to find a way to say “thanks” to those who serve their country every day. Ideally, you could just find one to say “thanks” to in person. In lieu of that, perhaps the best thing we can do is take good care of those freedoms that people have fought so hard for.

It’s their job to fight for their country. It’s our job to make sure it’s a country worth fighting for.

(Thoughts also with the servicemen and women mourning the loss of their own this week.)

ONE MONTH IN

She's been with us a month now, and it hardly seems longer than three weeks.

Eliza is growing fast. The doctor says she's gaining about 1.5 ounces per day. Supposedly that's good. So any photos we take are rendered inaccurate within moments.

But we took some photos on Sunday and are posting them as quickly as possible with the hopes that we can catch this brief moment before Eliza grows out of it.

Here we see Eliza in a pink outfit provided by none other than Patricia Hawkins. Accent jewelery from Pamela Rust.

And it appears if she has blue eyes. We'll consider that good news if it means she's got my vision.

Of course, there are two other blue-eyed persons in our home who have gotten neglected in the photos on this blog. But rest assured, there doing just fine...

Next to Eliza, Nate and Will really do seem like big boys. Also, Nate appears to be flipping off the camera, while Will is flashing a gang sign. And that's very adult.

CROSS-PROMOTION

While I've promised myself that I would not devote space on this blog to promote my other blog and podcast, that's what I'm going to to anyway.

I do a podcast about the Faroe Islands and I've just completed another episode. You can listen to it on iTunes or at our blog page: http://faroepodcast.blogspot.com/.

Or you can download the file directly here:
http://media.libsyn.com/media/faroepodcast/Podcast_31.mp3

The podcast features audio of a trip to the Vestmanna bird cliffs (pictured above).

MORE MUSIC

(Not the Canadian music channel)

Some readers of this blog seem to think that awesome old school rap is an unworthy subject for this blog. So here, here's an old piece of music that isn't rap.

(embedding disabled by pretentious artist)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXU8kCrRHJY

JUICE CREW

Nate and Will have been putting away a lot of juice lately, so I've started calling them the "Juice Crew." And that's put me in the mood to listen to listening to something from the Queensbridge all-star rap group.

So here's The Symphony. This track is almost 20 years old, but it still feels fresh to me. And check out the woman who walks on as eye candy at about 4:30. She's wearing a sweater! These days, that sweater could be used to make 4,000 thongs for the eye candy in today's rap videos. Ah, I miss them old days.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sSoXHUlwraU

FAROE FRIDAY: FINGER, WITCH'S

Yes, it has been much too long since we've had a Faroe Friday post here, but I'm determined to do more on that front in the weeks to come.

Time time around, I thought I'd share a short story about one of my favorite places in the Faroes, the Witch's Finger. On my second day in the Faroes, Thomas, Tollak and I went to Tollak's home village to take a few pictures. While there, we went for a walk up a hill and down a narrow road. When we turned the corner, there was a the Witch's Finger. It's a rock formation with a name you don't really need explained to you. You know, it's a long skinny rock... looks like a finger.

It was stunning to see, and it was the perfect day to see it. The sun was out, so everything was in sharp focus. And it was clear, too. From where we stood, you could see no fewer than five islands. It was more beautiful than words can describe. More grand than any photos can convey.

So after taking some pictures and shooting some video, we just sat there on the grassy hillside. We sat and looked out at the water, and the crisp blue sky. We watched the ferry boats make their journeys from island to island. We watched the sheep grazing on perilous-looking cliffs above us. But mostly we just looked at the rocks as the sun slowly moved across the sky. The shades of green and the shadows would change along with the light.

We sat there a long time. More than an hour. It may have been closer to two hours, I'm not really sure. Because in that moment, time seemed to stop. I've done yoga a few times, but I've never been into meditation. I'm told it's really good for you, but I just can't clear out all the thoughts zipping around my head long enough to meditate.

This experience, this place, seemed to calm my mind in a way I've rarely felt. In that moment, I didn't want to be anywhere else in the world. All the schedules and snippets of conversation and loops of music that fill my head were gone. In their place was calm, peace, and the sound of waves lapping at the cliffs several hundred feet below.

Now I'm not a hippie or an outdoorsman or anyone who feels any special connection with nature. Quite frankly, I'm happy to stay inside. When I'm outside, my iPod can get wet. But sitting there, as the minutes passed, I felt (and I can't believe I'm even saying this) deeply connected with the landscape around me. It felt like I could just lay back and melt into the rocky hillside.

Who knows, if no one had come to get me, I might still be there today. I'm not, but I hope I will be again someday.

AND THE QUESTION WAS...

"Mr. Cleese, British Comedy God and giver of all that is funny, you worked with your wife Connie Booth in Fawlty Towers. But between the first and second series, the two of you got divorced, yet you still wrote and performed on the show. How did that work out for you?"

He gave a long answer, but basically, they always had a good working relationship, but drove each other crazy when they lived together. That good working relationship survived the divorce, and Cleese and Booth remain friends to this day.

I'm almost ashamed to say that I actually skulked around the stage door waiting for John Cleese to emerge. I've been to hundreds concerts and other performances and I've never done anything like that before. But there a stood in the cold with a camera, pen, and DVD of "Life of Brian" in my hands, along with about a dozen other fans. After about 30 minutes, a roadie emerged and said, "Dude, he's gone. Left from another exit. He's already back at the hotel."

Oh well.

OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD

Today is a special day. Today I get to see one of my idols. John Cleese is appearing in Eugene, and I’m going. Not only that, I’ve got a front row seat.

Needless to say, I’ve spent the past week in Depends, because I’ve been peeing myself with excitement. I’ve got almost every episode of Monty Python’s Flying Circus committed to memory, and I’m a huge fan of the thesaurus-intensive skits Cleese wrote with Graham Chapman.

I’m actually not sure what this performance will entail, but I’m told it’s pretty funny. After a one hour performance, there will be a 45 minute question and answer session. And this is what has me nervous. I’m right in the front row, so chances are good I’ll be able to ask a question if I want to. And I don’t know what to ask.

For periods of my life, I’ve made a living out of asking people questions, but what to ask your comedy idol? I thought of simply asking, “May I please have a hug?” But that seems like it may get me undue attention from security. I’ve also considered asking him about writing with Graham Chapman. But it seems a little rude to see someone perform and then ask about his deceased writing partner.

I have been known to choke before. I had a chance to ask Dave Barry a question in 1991, and all I really did was stutter and mention that my hometown newspaper was one of the first to carry his syndicated column.

So now I’ve got a 2 ½ hour drive up to Eugene to think of a question. Wish me luck.

PYTHON TREK

The term is "nerdgasm."

The unedited audio from Holy Grail's "Camelot" sequence coupled with Star Trek footage. It takes a special kind of madness to put something like this together. I'm glad someone did.

STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND

Dave and Shannon are good people. It’s just that simple. You meet them and you immediately like them.

I met them in 2004. I had just moved to Texarkana to work for an NBC affiliate based in Shreveport. At that time, Shannon hosted the morning show and Dave was a sports reporter. They weren’t married, but had been dating since they were both students in Syracuse. I think Dave picked me out as a fellow upstate New York native (he was raised in Albany) and started talking with me during one of my first trips to the Shreveport mothership. Shannon was nice to me, too. She was the subject of one of my first assignments. She was speaking at Texarkana College and it was my job to shoot some video of it.

Over the year or so I lived in Texarkana, I’d see Dave or Shannon (they worked opposite shifts, so you’d rarely see them together) when I came into the station, and each experience I had with then made me like them even more. They were just good people, who were good at their jobs, and they were fun, too.

Eventually the two of them got married and sometime after that they moved to Minnesota. By then I had moved on to Oregon, but I tried to keep in track of them on their blog or on Facebook.

This week I checked their blog and found the news that Dave and Shannon are expecting their first child this spring. It’s just great news.

When Julie and I were awaiting our first kids, people would sometimes say, “You are going to be great parents.” While I appreciated the compliment, the comments actually annoyed me a bit. I mean seriously, how do they know that? They way I saw it, the jury was out. These people, as well intentioned as they were, really didn’t have enough information to figure out what kind of parent I would be.

So I’m a bit sheepish to say that, when I heard the news of Shannon and Dave’s impending arrival, I thought just one thing: they’re going to be the greatest parents.

But I’m making this judgment based on real life experience with these two. You see, during my 14 month stay in the Confederacy, I was a stranger in a strange land. I would look at the world around me and have nothing but questions. Why does everyone talk like they’re on The Dukes of Hazzard? What is a mudbug, and why is it on grits? Why do people want me to holler at them when a phone call would be a lot more effective? Despite my cluelessness, Dave and Shannon were always kind to me. Helped me feel like everything would be OK.

Now Dave and Shannon are preparing to welcome their own stranger in a strange land, and he/she (they’ve decided not to learn the gender… ever) will have his/her own questions. Why am I no longer floating in fluids? What’s with all this light? Why is there a bag of my own feces strapped to my butt?

And when that happens, I’ve no doubt this new little person will receive a welcome exponentially greater than the wonderful and warm treatment they gave to an idiot Yankee trying to adjust to the South.

Or in other words: congratulations Dave and Shannon. You’re going to be great parents.

NaBloPoMo, REALLY?

For the past two Novembers, I've joined thousands to take the NaBloPoMo challenge. That's, the National Blog Posting Month challenge. The idea is that you post every day during the month of November.

I've been equal to the challenge in previous years, but this year I've got my doubts. You see, life is different now. We've got a baby daughter that's just a few weeks old and I'm always short on sleep and time. Furthermore, this here blog has been a rather neglected space lately.

It started in January when I launched a podcast and blog about the Faroe Islands. Suddenly, a lot of the spare time I used to use to write here was swallowed up producing the podcast. Most of the longer humor and political writing that used to appear here vanished. Then, as life got more busy following a summer trip to the Faroes, even the posting of photos and videos stopped. In late August and into September, more than a month passed without a single update. Since the arrival of Eliza, some baby photos have found their way to this space, but not much else.

So this year's NaBloPoMo is perhaps a fight for the future of this blog. Will I be able to revive it and keep this blog a going concern? I don't know. During the past two years I was pretty confident. This year... not so much.

Stay tuned...