AC/OS

"Dad" used to mean something

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 03:24:00 +0000

I used to know what I was supposed to be doing as a dad. When my kids were very young, my job was to feed, clean, and teach them. Basically, I was damage control. I was authority. I showed the way.

Scout is with me on a business trip, however, and it's clear that this old role is fading. Yes, I'm still responsible for general maintenance and helping to guide her, as well as my other children, but they don't seem to need me in the same way as they get older.

More troubling, the difference in our ages seems to shrink with time. I used to know dramatically more than my kids. They were somewhat helpless without me. That's no longer the case.

Each of my kids, and Scout most particularly as she's the eldest, seems to be getting their own ideas about life. They're real people with real opinions and real concerns. They're not my kids anymore. They're increasingly themselves.

I guess they always were. But it's both frightening and exhilarating getting used to this new phase.

It must be the same with God. I'm reminded of what Paul wrote to the Corinthians (chapter 13, verses 11 through 12):

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

The closer we come to God, the more we become like Him, and, I suspect, the more we understand Him and like the sorts of things He likes.

A bit like my relationship with Scout. She's becoming an independent person, and our ages seem to be converging as she catches up with me. It's much the same with my dad. He used to be something different, something distant: bigger and untouchable.

But now he's my friend. I don't think of him as over me anymore, but alongside me.

I understand the sorts of things that make him tick, because I have to deal with the same issues (or similar). He still exceeds me in experience, but I no longer feel like we're living separate existences. He's farther along the path than I am, but we're on the same path.

It's 4:35 AM here in Paris, and I've been awake since 2:00 AM, worried that Scout would wake up and I'd feel the need to help her fall asleep again, somehow. That, I suppose, is what distinguishes us, at least for now: we're increasingly similar but I still feel an obligation to raise her. Some day, that will probably change as I get old and she has to nurse me through my frailty.

It's humbling. But it's also encouraging to realize that age differentials dissipate over time, and that my responsibility is increasingly to be a friend, not a distant authority figure Who Knows What Is Right.

That's a comforting thought.

Couples dating: Just when you thought high school was over

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 17:58:00 +0000

I absolutely loved this Wall Street Journal article on couples dating. No, it's not some twisted wife swap sort of thing, but rather the very real conundrum you face when you marry: with whom should you hang out?

It turns out that it's even harder to date a couple than it is to date when you're single, because you're dealing with 3x the neuroses, character flaws, etc.

Actually, the date itself is just the beginning of the stress. Wait until the next day, which can be just as excruciating as the day after a singles date. If you didn't like the other couple, you'll need to plot ways to avoid them. If you did like them, you'll need to deal with your anxiety.

Because what if they don't call? Should you contact them? And if you do, and you still don't hear back, what does that say about your relationship with your partner? Are you irritating? Insufferable? Uninteresting as a team?

When you find a great couple, however, it's absolute bliss.

It might also be good for your marriage:

Research shows that couples who are friends with other couples have happier, longer-lasting relationships with each other.

The reasons are simple. If you have friends who enjoy you as a couple, you may feel better about your union. These other couples can be a support network. And the process of making new friends together may inject energy into your relationship and give you something to bond over.

Jen and I are fortunate to get along with several different couples. That probably says more about how patient and good they are than it does about us. We're the difficult couple. :-)

Wash after you shake Lily's hands

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 17:09:00 +0000

Oh, my. Last night as I read Charlotte's Web to Lily, I noticed that her hands smelled terrible. Putrid, even.

I hustled her to the bathroom, where she glared at me. "How did your hands get so smelly?" I demanded.

Just then a plastic flower - shown at right - fell out of her underwear.

"Lily," I said, "Where did that flower come from? Was it in your underwear?"

"No," she replied.

"Then where was it? I saw it fall out of your underwear."

"I had it in my bum."

"Do you mean you had it crammed between your bum cheeks?!?"

"Yes," she sweetly said.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that manure won't work as a fertilizer on plastic flowers.

Contrition at such a young age

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 03:36:00 +0000

Something was really bothering Isaac tonight. He's always sensitive to criticism (I guess he gets this from his dad), but tonight at dinner he seemed particularly fragile.

Later, when we were reading, he teared up again, and when I asked what was wrong, he said it was because we had been making fun of him at dinner. (Mea culpa: we had, but I didn't even get my best jabs in because he was so sad. :-)

I held him close to me while we read Sherlock Holmes and then figured it was over.

It wasn't.

As he was going into his room to sleep, I heard a tremor in his voice and got down on a knee to be eye level with him, and asked him if there was something bothering him, something more than he had told me before.

"Yes," he quavered.

It turns out that Friday night while we had been at our church for my mission reunion, he had discovered some spray paint and "accidentally" made four "small" spots on the wall (on the stage in the gym). It had been eating him up for days.

As he told me, I could feel the burden lift from his shoulders, and doubly so when I told him that I was glad he had told me, and that he should not think about it any more, but that it would be OK. His whole countenance brightened and he went to sleep, free from the guilty conscience that had plagued him.

I can relate. I've done enough bad things in my life to be very familiar with the comfort of contrition, and the salve that confession and repentance brings. It's such a waste to carry sins around on our consciences.

While listening to the proceedings of a conference for my church on Saturday night, a church leader spoke of the need to abandon anger and repent. It hit me how often I get frustrated and angry while writing my blog or on Twitter, and I immediately crafted an apology to those that have been stung by my criticisms. I doubt many people knew to what I was referring, but it made me feel better to apologize and move on.

For Isaac, he learned a wonderful lesson tonight: it's always better to own up to mistakes so that you can move on. He'll be a better man for having done this once. He'll be a great man if he can learn to do it over, and over, and over, and over.

One of these things is not like the others...

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 12:46:00 +0000

Lily drew a picture this morning and showed it to me so that she could point out the different people in it:

That's me. And that's you. And that's Maddie. And that's Grey. And that's just an alien face. And that's Jane. And that's Greta."

Here's the picture:

All are alike unto God...and Lily. Even aliens.

A glimpse of girls camp

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 17:23:00 +0000

Jen and I spent our fifteenth anniversary in the mountains of Utah at Camp Everett. That sounds great, until you realize that the reason we were there was for our ward girls camp.

However, it turned out to be a wonderful four days, and Jen did a fantastic job of organizing it. Here's a look at what we did:

These girls truly are beautiful.

The music, by the way, is The Flaming Lips.

The point is perfecting, not perfection

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 05:41:00 +0000

I read something this morning that gave me a lot of comfort, given my many imperfections. It's in Alma 13:10 (a verse in "Mormon" scripture). Speaking of a group of super-select, righteous people, Alma mentions why they were so good:

[I]t was on account of their exceeding faith and repentance, and their righteousness before God, they choosing to repent and work righteousness rather than to perish....

In other words, these people weren't select because they were better than anyone else, but because they recognized their faults and worked to remedy them.

That's very comforting, given how imperfect I am/we are.

Happiness' multiplier effect

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 21:25:00 +0000

Today started wrong. My hotel lost a new shirt of mine (sent in for laundering), and I desperately needed it tuis morning for business meetings. Not only did the hotel (The Blackstone in Chicago) offer to buy me a new shirt, but it also chauffered me to a Nordstrom to get a replacement, then drove me to my meeting.

Nice.

My poor compensation was to leave a tip for the driver. I should have bought him some Garrett's popcorn.

When I got to my flight, Delta didn't have an upgrade for me, leaving me no room for my bag. The flight attendant sweetly offered to check it for planeside delivery, and then went one step further: she stowed it in a closet at the front.

This time, my payback was better. A mother and baby were squished in the window seat next to me. I *hate* window seats, because I don't like having to ask permission to go to the restroom. But I felt so happy by the way I was treated that I gave up my seat to her. (I almost certainly would do so, whatever my mental state, because mothers always deserve deference, but today I'm actually happy about it.)

I feel great. She's happy. I'm not normally the center of a domino effect of happiness. I'm usually the one to squash happiness. But today, because a hotel staff went above and beyond, my day was changed. I hope others will be happy because of me, too. Imagine that.

Coddling moms get collicky babies?

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 12:28:00 +0000

Interesting article in the Wall Street Journal on Tuesday confirms my worst suspicions: I am responsible for my kids' neuroses.

Well, actually, though that's likely true, the article hones in on how moms affect their babies' sleep habits:

While a mother is still pregnant, researchers can size up the likelihood that her infant will be a good sleeper by assessing the mother's beliefs about infant sleep, says a study in the latest issue of Child Development. If an expectant mom thinks babies who cry at night are suffering distress and need to be soothed and comforted, her baby is likely to have more wakeful, weepy nights later, after controlling for other factors. On the other hand, if an expectant mother believes parents must draw boundaries against getting involved with a baby at bedtime, her infant will probably sleep better, assuming other factors are equal.

The major reason is that moms' beliefs shape their behavior and feelings toward their babies, which in turn influence babies' sleep, says the study of 85 mothers and their babies by Liat Tikotzky and Avi Sadeh at Tel-Aviv University. Mothers who believed in comforting crying babies at night also tended to be more active in trying to soothe them, holding or feeding them or bringing them into their own beds. These behaviors led to poorer sleep for the babies.

On the other hand, mothers who believed in limiting their involvement were less activist at night and also had babies who awakened less.

Amen. Jen and I are fortunate to have stone-cold hearts and early on with Scout realized that we were going to go insane if we kept catering to her every whimper.

And while I need to be much more empathetic than I am, I have to say: I don't miss the sleepless nights we used to have. Our kids are pretty good sleepers. The secret? We ignore them! :-)

Not that this doesn't create other problems, like psychopathic Lily or funeral dirge Greta. But hey! At least we sleep while they wreak havoc and whine.

Such an Asay

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 17:39:00 +0000

Lily may look like a younger version of Jenny (though Jen has much better hair), but when it comes to food, she's all Asay, as a conversation today proves:

Lily: Is it lunchtime?

Me: Yes.

Lily: Oh, good. I've been just waiting to be hungry.

It's hard to describe in a more concise way just what it means to be an Asay.

There is mealtime. And then there is all that time in between spent waiting for it to be mealtime again.

Lily's song of protest

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 13:16:00 +0000

Lily likes to sing while she colors, but sometimes she gets the words a little bit wrong. Or maybe it's all intentional on her part.

I suspect the latter, at least this morning while she sang a LDS Primary song called "The Family Is of God". These are the actual lyrics:

God gave us families
to help us become
what He wants us to be—

This is how He shares His love,
for the family is of God.

And here are Lily's:

God gave us families
To hell what He wants
What He wants me to be.

This is how He shares His love,
for the family is of God.

Lily tends to slur together words while she's singing when she's not exactly sure of the correct words. Given that I don't think she knows what "to Hell with..." means, I'll be charitable and believe she just said something that sounds like "to Hell what he wants."

But that's the charitable view. The more likely view is that Lily cares about as much about what divinity wants from her as she does what Jen and I think. Scary. :-)

Blackmail hits the Asay home

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 16:41:00 +0000

Jen discovered this note from "Doggy" (Lily's stuffed animal) addressed to Greta, threatening a severe licking of Teddy (Greta's stuffed animal) if an allowance isn't paid.

The handwriting looks suspiciously like Isaac's....

I guess money laundering and racketeering come next.

No other sport like it

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 14:18:00 +0000

I played soccer (football) growing up, but it wasn't until Jen and I moved to England for my Masters that I became deeply afflicted with the sport. Something about 30,000 lunatics all screaming obscenities in unison...beautiful.

Well, last night the obscenities were in Portugese, but they were no less inspiring (?) for that. (Unfortunately, my French came in handy in understanding the fouler words used in the chants and accusations.) I went with a business partner (Infused Solutions) and a wonderful fellow Alfrescan, Michael Uzquiano, and we enjoyed watching São Paulo beat Rio-based Botafogo 3-1.

This was the crowd after the third goal:

Tão bonita!

My first road bike ride

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 19:35:00 +0000

I distinctly remember a Sunday morning in Brussels, when I served there as a missionary for my church. We were driving to church in our trusty Opel (a bit like a Ford Fiesta), and came to a light just before a long tunnel.

A BMW 850 ($250,000+ car) came up next to us. I started to rev the engine (i.e., swat the mice to get them ready to run), indicating a race was on. The BMW driver seemed not to notice and, when the light changed, I got 50 yards ahead of him. My companion and I were shouting with glee, thinking we had dusted the 850.

Nope.

We suddenly saw a blur blow past us, only to disappear into the distant end of the tunnel. It must have been going 150 MPH or more.

That's how I felt this morning, riding with my brother-in-law, Ryan, on the Alpine Loop route which, from my parents' house, climbs roughly 3,000 feet over 10 miles. This was my first time ever on a road bike, but I thought my mountain biking experience would be sufficient.

Not so much.

Ryan, an experienced road biker, held back for most of the ride, but at one point I encouraged him to go ahead. And he did. Within seconds Ryan was a blur in the distance. Within 10 seconds, he was on an entirely different continent, and I was left to rue the day that Natalie had ever married him.

Well, not really. Actually, but for the fact that he made me look like a slovenly couch potato (Remember: I mountain bike or run five to six times per week - I'm in pretty good shape), it was awesome to spend that time with him.

In fact, I was enjoying it so much that I enthusiastically suggested we head up South Fork instead of peeling off to retire to my parents' house. My enthusiasm lasted roughly 15 seconds, when we began to climb again.

One-thousand feet of elevation later, with Ryan blasting out in front of me to salvage his pride against someone that dared to move past us (I was just grateful that the other rider didn't laugh at me), I knew I had been conquered utterly, thoroughly...

...and yet what a wonderful experience. I think I'm going to spend a lot more time road biking until my dad comes home from his mission, and until the next time Ryan is in town. I want to be able to keep up with him at a pace that is closer to what he's used to. It took us one hour and 10 minutes or so to make the initial Alpine Loop climb to the summit, a trip that Ryan has done in as little as 54 minutes. My goal is to do it in an hour.

Or maybe an hour and nine minutes. Best to start small. :-)

Rumsfeld's prayer

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 20:48:00 +0000

Yesterday, Mike and Jackie Leavitt spoke in our ward (church). They live two blocks over and are back from their foray in Washington, D.C., where Mike served as the Secretary of Health an Human Services under President George W. Bush (and, prior to that, as Administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency).

His talk was exceptional. In it he mentioned something I had never known: President Bush started every Cabinet meeting with a prayer, given by different Cabinet members. (Mike was very careful to point out that he believes prayer is not a Bush or Republican phenomenon, but that it almost certainly accompanies every administration, though perhaps some pray more than others....)

Upon request, a collection of those Cabinet prayers was compiled and sent out to each member. Mike read a few of the prayers over the pulpit.

One prayer, in particular, struck me, in part because of who offered it, and in part because of when. Three days after the horrific September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, much-maligned Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld offered up this beautiful prayer:

Ever-faithful God, in death we are reminded of the precious birthrights of life and liberty You endowed in Your American people. You have shown once again that these gifts must never be taken for granted.

We pledge to those whom You have called home, and ask of You – patience, to measure our lust for action; resolve, to strengthen our obligation to lead; wisdom, to illuminate our pursuit of justice, and; strength, in defense of liberty.

We seek Your special blessing today for those who stand as sword and shield, protecting the many from the tyranny of the few. Our enduring prayer is that You shall always guide our labors and that our battles shall always be just.

We pray this day, Heavenly Father, the prayer our nation learned at another time of righteous struggle and noble cause—America’s enduring prayer: Not that God will be on our side, but always, O Lord, that America will be on Your side.

Amen.

It's possible that Rumsfeld was lying, but I don't think so. I agree with Huckleberry Finn: you can't pray a lie.

I believe Rumsfeld did want his natural inclinations tempered; that he did want to do what was right. It's very possible that he lost his way, as all of us do as we daily strive to do what is right. He just did so on a bigger stage.

Hearing his prayer, and the others, has made me feel more empathetic toward the current Obama administration, which seems (to me) to be veering dramatically off-course but which is likely trying to do the best it can with the knowledge and resources available to it. It has also made me more forgiving for President Bush and the failings of his presidency.

It's enough for me to know that people recognize their need for help. With humility, anything is possible.

Conversations with Lily

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 19:14:00 +0000

It's just a matter of time before Lily takes over.

This morning while shaving I overheard her in the room next door, playing with dolls. Here's one snippet of the conversation:

Doll 1: You know who is so funny? Jack. He never cleans up after himself.

Doll 2: Yeah, and no one ever catches him.

Sometimes I think Lily is getting better. Now I know that I simply haven't heard about all the things that she and "Jack" have been up to.

Spies like us

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 23:34:00 +0000

OK, I doubt many people have followed this British soap opera, but it's quite funny. John Sawers, the new head of M16, the UK spy agency, inadvertently posted (well, his wife did) personal details of the family on Facebook. So much for secrecy.

The Spectator, in its usual style, pillories it all:

What other photos exist, which Lady Sawers has not quite got around to uploading yet? Perhaps there’s a snap of Britain’s actual chief spy pretending to shoot her with his hairbrush. In black tie, obviously. Or maybe he’s in a safari suit. Maybe he’s pretending there’s a laser that comes out of his watch....

It’s downright embarrassing, nationally speaking. It’s like the head of Nasa pretending to have a light-saber. It’s like seeing the Transport Secretary sitting on the loo in a train-driver’s hat, pulling the chain over his head, and going choo-ka-choo....

[In the past y]ou thought of the head of MI6, and you thought, this is probably a person with computer skills at his disposal that are far beyond the ken of mere IT geeks like us. You didn’t think of him as being somebody so adrift with modern technology that he doesn’t even tell his wife it might be a good idea to click the ‘private’ box on Facebook.

Dearlove was only the second top spook to be officially named, after Sir David Spedding. His successor, Sir John Scarlett, was the first to be officially photographed. A decade from now, I suppose, new heads of the British Secret Intelligence Service will have their appointments announced with jaunty Q&A interviews, in the style that once used to appear in Smash Hits! That’s progress, I suppose, and in the name of transparency, I suppose it’s all for the good. One day everybody will be on Facebook, or something like it, head of MI6 or not. The problem, now, isn’t that ‘C’ was up there. It’s that he looked like a total berk.

I really can't stop laughing.

Why I'm a Gunner

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 16:56:00 +0000

I just finished reading Jason Cowley's The Last Game: Love, Death, and Football, and found my head nodding in agreement with this passage:

If the owner of a football club is wealthy enough, success can be bought; you can even buy the Premier League, as Blackburn did in 1995 and Abramovich's Chelsea have done most recently.

But it's far better, surely, to achieve consistent success without having to pay grotesquely inflated transfer fees for ready-made superstars, as Chelsea have done; to achieve success and respect, as Arsenal have under Wenger, through the discovery and nurturing of exceptional young individuals, from all over the world, and making of them, through the collective expression of the team, something remarkable, lasting and true.

Arsenal today are one of the superpowers of the European game, with 60,000 spectators at every home game and a growing worldwide fanbase. In spite of his inscrutability and reserve, and his at times baffling expressions of self-righteous indignation - his sense that Arsenal are uniquely persecuted by referees and other teams, repeatedly fouled and unfairly cheated - Arsene Wenger has effected a glorious revolution during a period when it has been said that the Premier League is not an English league any more; England simply 'hosts' the world league.

At their best his Arsenal have shown us not only how the game can and should be played - 'yes, even sometimes art' - but also how young men of different races, religions and nationalities can work together harmoniously to create a moral example and vision of the cosmopolitan good life. 'Football,' Wenger has said, 'must be about values and morals, always.'

And that is why I love Wenger, and why I love (almost to obsession at times) Arsenal.

There is an energy in a football crowd that I've not felt anywhere else: an ecstatic elation as the crowd rises to celebrate a goal. It is something profound and beautiful.

Yes, it's just a sport, but if you've been and felt it, then you know what I'm talking about. It's something more.

With Arsenal, it's much more. There have been times when the free-flowing football has actually brought me to tears.

The Japanese, in my Mitsui experience, drink to relax. I watch Arsenal.

Here's the Michael Thomas goal against Liverpool in 1989 that decided the title for Arsenal in the last minute of the game, and that ushered in the modern era of football and, in particular, Arsenal football.

Days like this I think I'm my dad

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 13:45:00 +0000

Jen and I were both up early today: Jen, to run a half marathon. Me, to ride 22 miles on my mountain bike:

I was really disappointed to be passed by two road bikers, but if you've ever been on a road bike and on a mountain bike, you know that the former goes a lot faster than the latter. At least I was able to spike their tires as they passed. :-)

This is one of those times that I'm so grateful to live where I live, and why I think I may be becoming more and more like my dad every day. At mile 20 I started thinking, "Hmm, I really should run this in a few weeks when my sprained ankle is a little better."

Of course, if I were my dad, I would have already done it...on crutches.

(This is, after all, the man that tried to do the 103-mile White Rim Trail ("White Knuckle Trail"), which most people take several days to ride...in one day. I think he passed out at mile 72, fell over his handlebars, and broke his collar bone. Had they not stretchered him out, he likely would have crawled the remainder. I can't wait to see him in a few weeks in Argentina.)

Surprised by Jen

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 23:11:00 +0000

Jen and I were sitting in our front room today, talking after church. As she spoke, I turned and looked at her - really looked at her.

I was surprised by what I saw.

I've long been attracted to Jen. That is, after all, one of the reasons we married.

(Having said that, though we met in junior high, I didn't really get to know Jen, and certainly didn't fall in love with her, until we wrote letters to each other for 18 months while I served a mission for our church in Belgium and France. I fell in love with Jen, the person, rather than Jen, the body/face.)

But as I turned to look at her today, I was amazed by how beautiful she has become. Maybe she's always been this pretty, and I simply didn't notice.

But I think Jen actually gets better looking every year, and today I caught her in full bloom.

Today, among many other days, I consider myself fortunate to have been smart enough to marry Jen. I think of all the different sorts of personalities with which I could have settled in, and I don't think I could have been as happy with anyone else as I am with Jen.

I'm sure Jen would clash with other personalities, just as I know that I grate on some people. But Jen and I, despite our sometime differences, really get along well. She complements me as no one else does. I hope I do the same for her. Or that I will live to earn that place.

I didn't fall in love with Jen today. I was just blessed to discover how fantastically fortunate I am, in part because of how lovely she is.

Gordon Brown's "Audacity of Hopelessness"

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 16:14:00 +0000

I find that I follow UK politics more closely than US politics, perhaps because I like the political commentary in Britain so much more. For example, I found this note in The Spectator to be very funny (and true):

Labour got 15 per cent of the vote in the European elections, in which only 34 per cent of the electorate voted. That is roughly five per cent of those entitled to vote. When you add those too young to vote, this means that, on average, only one in every 25 people you pass in the street voted Labour last week. So when Mr Brown emerged triumphant from the meeting of his parliamentary party on Monday, his slogan was really ‘The Audacity of Hopelessness’.

As popular as Tony Blair was, Gordon Brown...isn't. At all. Labour has really messed up over there, and then managed to get caught in the economic crisis, as well. Double whammy.

And yet Brown continues to hope....

Lily, the secret-keeper

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 23:12:00 +0000

Lily knows how to keep secrets. This is what we discussed today while I was baking a pie to eat on Father's Day:

Lily (seeing me eat some chocolate): Dad, you love chocolate, don't you?

Me: Yes, I do.

Lily: That's why we got you some chocolate for Father's Day.

Me: Who did?

Lily: Mom, Scout, Greta, and me. But it's a secret.

Me: Um, Lily, you just told me about it. It's not much of a secret anymore.

Lily: But I'm not telling you where it is!

I suspect that if Lily did, in fact, know where the chocolate is hidden, she would have opened it up to share it with me.

Not that Father's Day presents are much of a surprise. Jen told someone the other day on the phone what she was planning to get me, even though I was sitting five feet from her in the adjoining room. I guess they figure it's not worth trying to surprise me. :-)

Match of the season

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 23:05:00 +0000

For the past two years I've been to the "match of the season" as rated by Sky Sports. In 2007/08 it was Tottenham vs. Chelsea at White Hart Lane, which ended 4-4, and this year the score line was the same but the teams (Liverpool and Arsenal at Anfield) were different.

It was a wonderful match to watch, made better by sharing it with Jen. This gives you just a hint of why I love football so much.

Those wild and crazy vegetarians

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 14:57:00 +0000

Reading The Guardian on my flight home from Europe today, I came across this funny (bitingly so) note from Hadley Freeman, an American by birth, but Brit and vegetarian by circumstance. I think I once tried to be vegetarian. It lasted for a few days.

While one of my best friends and favorite people is vegetarian, I must admit that Freeman's description is very apt for many of the vegetarians I know:

...[T]he worst thing about being vegetarian isn't that epiphanical moment when you realise the one phrase you know in multiple languages is, "Just a green salad, please." It's other vegetarians.

When I used to say that I was vegetarian back in the 80s, the reaction I got was something akin to what I imagine Scientologists get today. Now, though, I swim limpidly in the mainstream alongside the tedious likes of Moby....One day I woke up and realised these had become my people. As if having crap hair wasn't bad enough.

Because the vegetarian bandwagon has been so thoroughly jumped by celebrities, a demographic that survives by constant self-validation, we now live in a world of high-profile vegetarian evangelism. Thus, the whole shebang...has taken on the sweaty sheen of moral superiority, bossiness, and over-simplification...and makes me want to stuff a fistful of veal in their gobs to shut them all up.

Indeed.

Unfortunately, I find that this isn't unique to vegetarians or, really, to cause-mongers of any kind. I find myself embarrassed all the time by people that share my beliefs/habits, just as I'm sure I set others' teeth grinding at my behavior or comments. (Perhaps your teeth are grinding even as you read this.)

From self-righteous Mormons to clueless conservatives, I'm surrounded by people that think like me...but don't. Not all of them, anyway. Not really.

So, my apologies to the non-bozo vegetarians out there. I'm sure you're nice in your way. I am, too, in mine. We just choose to be obnoxious in different ways. :-)

Tell the truth, or not

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 14:09:00 +0000

I loved this anecdote in The Daily Mail on Sunday:

We are reminded of Bob Arum, the American boxing promoter, who once made an impassioned speech to a press conference.

'But Bob,' protested a journalist, 'yesterday you told us something completely different.' Arum never paused. 'Sure', he said. 'But yesterday I was lying.'

Nice.