Birdo

Okay, so it's been a while since I've made any effort to maintain this blog; however, I had an encounter with a small woodland creature today, and that seems like as good a time as any to stage a comeback. Granted, I have all intentions of this comeback being short-lived.

I was in the backyard watering the garden when I heard something from the back corner of the yard. It sounded kind of like splashing. At first I thought that perhaps the neighbors were watering their garden, but I didn't see anyone else outside. Maybe a water main broke and it was gurgling up through the ground? I walked over for closer inspection and noticed a large pot of grease sitting on the ground and inside, a small bird that was trying to escape it's slimy grasp. Unsure of what to do, I grabbed a pair of gardening gloves from the shed (my wife's gardening gloves... hopefully not a pair she was fond of) and hopped the fence. By this time, the bird had run out of energy and was floating upside down in the grease. I pulled her from the pot as she gave one last flutter in attempt to escape her impending doom. Sure that she was ripped from one awful death and headed for another, she looked terrified but resigned herself to the fact that their was no hope of escape.

I brought the bird into our yard, filled a bucket with a thin layer of water and placed her inside. My hope was that she would be smart enough to splash around and clean herself off but instead she sat there wishing that I would make her execution quick and painless. "Clean yourself off, Birdo," I told her. Birdo was the name I had chosen for her (no relation to "burdo", the word my youngest sister chose to call a woman's breast when she was little). After some concerned contemplation, I had an idea. I began to fill the bucket with water until it rose up to the bird's neck. The idea of drowning again did not sit well and she began to flutter around, trying to escape. While I felt cruel, it did the trick. All her thrashing around washed off a good bit of the grease that had coated every surface of her body. She continued her desperate attempt at escape, until once again she had depleted all her energy. I then lifted her from the water-torture-bucket and placed her into a dry one. She just sat there shivering.

I went inside, grabbed a washcloth (again, hopefully one my wife is not fond of), and headed back to where she sat. I picked her up from the bucket and walked back to a shaded part of the garden. We sat peacefully for a while - the bird wrapped in the warm cloth. She became very still, almost sedated. I slowly unwrapped the wash cloth. She climbed to her feet as if to make her get away but then she just stood there quietly on my hand. I took the corner of the cloth and gently wiped her wings, back, and little tiny peanut of a head. I decided to whisper things like, "It's going to be okay," which was either very soothing or very creepy. She didn't seem to mind though. In all honesty, I was probably just whispering those things to keep myself from shrieking, "I'm holding a bird... in my HAND!" After a while I started to alternate between things like, "it's going to be okay" and "you're safe now" to things like "you are probably going to smell bad for a while" and "I hope you are grateful for this, because you don't really appear to be."

After a while, without warning, she hopped from my hand, into the garden, and then through a gap in the fence. Part of me wanted to chase her down and bring her back and make her be my friend, but I knew it was time to let her go. There's a good chance that my help wasn't useful. She could very well be dead right now. And if she is still alive, she probably doesn't appreciate my attempt to help. But that's okay. I enjoyed our time together.

find this book

About a year ago, I started a project in which I took blank Moleskine Cahiers and wrote "Find This Book" with a silver Sharpie on the cover. Inside were instructions to write something in the book and then leave it for someone else to find. I made over a dozen and placed them literally all around the world. Not long ago one came back... from France. This particular book was originally left at the Wounded Bookshop in Fredericksburg on April 2, 2006.

There was also an article about the books written in the local paper. You can read it here. The author does not know that I am the responsible party.

Click on the pictures for a larger view...

morning commute

This is the conclusion of my morning commute...



(it's not always this pretty)

shed those holiday pounds

It’s that time of year again; time to shed those holiday pounds. For our dog, Brinks, there is no exception. A little less than a year ago, we received the news that no dog owner likes to hear; our furry companion was grossly overweight. Sure there were signs prior to the vet’s analysis. Brinks’ barrel-shaped torso was one dead giveaway. Although, some of the indicators were more subtle. Take, for example, his ever-expanding collar and his favorite pair of jeans, which no long fit.

After we overcame the initial period of denial, we put Brinks on a rigorous weight-loss program. We walked him around town once a day and transitioned to a dog food specifically formulated for weight-loss (or so they say). When this whole project started, Brinks tipped the scales at 85 pounds. And today, we are happy to report, after a return trip to the vet, Brinks weighs a mere 85 pounds. That’s right, after however many months of strict dieting and strenuous training, Brinks had not gained a single pound.

Of course, as doctors, dentists, veterinarians, and other medical professions are trained to do, Brinks’ vet tried to make us feel guilty about our astounding progress. She even had the nerve to suggest that Brinks should not only be keeping the weight off, he should be losing weight.

So, once again, strategies have changed. Brinks now walks twice a day and his food consumption has been cut in half. It didn’t take much to convince Brinks to double his daily walk. It is, after all, his favorite past-time, second only to napping. The reduction in his food intake was an entirely different story.

When brinks is ready for a meal, he clanks his bowl around the kitchen noisily until someone obliges and fills it with food. However, this night, when the bowl was only filled halfway, Brinks looked at us with a puzzled expression. “Surely, there must be some mistake. You can’t possibly expect me to maintain this shapely figure on these meager rations.”

He scarfed down what little food we offered him, and again looked up at us with bewilderment. “Okay, I’m ready for the rest. You know, the other half of my dinner.” When the sad, puppy-dog eyes yielded no results, he resorted to banging his bowl around the kitchen again. This was our cue. We opened a can of green beans and dumped them into his bowl. Our vet told us that green beans were a great dietary supplement. Of course, she also tells us that we should brush Brinks’ teeth on a regular basis.

Fortunately, after a few hesitant sniffs, Brinks devoured the green beans ravenously. In fact, it’s now his favorite part of the meal. He refuses to eat dinner without a half-can of green bean garnish. He has even told us that he is thinking about becoming a vegetarian.

Photo by Ian Soper

wet paint

We had a fundraiser for the Fredericksburg Athenaeum and the Panta Rhei Project and I created this short film with Ian and Johnny...

panta rhei

My friends, Ian and Adam, and I are starting a non-profit digital arts studio in Fredericksburg, VA. We are going to teach under-resourced kids graphic design and digital video, among other things. Ian has been working hard on our website, pantarheiproject.com

Check it out and let us know what you think.

re-emerging

Chris and I returned late Thursday night from four days in New Mexico. We were there for the Emergent gathering, a collection of friends discovering the way of Jesus.

Here are a few photos from the last day in the prayer garden...

You can view more photos by clicking here.

One of the conversations which I found interesting, questioned where our tithe goes. There is an interesting paper which set the basis for the conversation here.