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Right in the heart of my high school years, there was this show on television called Thirtysomething which everyone watched and pretty much loved. In a lot of ways it was the first of its kind, and you can still see its influence today in a lot of television programming. I was nowhere near thirtysomething at the time, but I loved it, too.

When I was in high school, I had this recurring dream that I was a young professional, a father and a husband, right in the middle of a season when we should be living the average everyday suburban dream, and yet somehow utterly unable to support my family. When I was 16 and 17, it was probably the single biggest thing I was afraid of. I think it boils down to this one question that I just couldn't get out of my head: "will I be able to make it out there, in the real world?"

There was a moment yesterday when all five ladies were sitting on the couch--at least, all five ladies who don't live full-time in a flight cage. The two birds were behind bars, of course, so I'm talking about Amy, Zoe, Fina, Jota, and Bella. There they all are, reading a book on the couch, and here's the thing: it hasn't been easy, but it's been nothing like I expected.

That nightmare about what was coming didn't dissipate in one instant--it wasn't gone immediately after Amy and I got married or the moment after Zoe was born. It's not like I was wondering about it, though, worrying. There's just a point in life when you just start living it, when you just buckle down and go right ahead doing whatever it is you need to do to keep everything moving forward, in the right direction. And I guess that's the lesson I'm thinking about now that I'm right smack in the middle of my own thirtysomething.

It's not that it's easy. No one in their right mind would tell you that. But it is good. And the secret--like the secret to most good things--is to just keep working at it, day after day. There's no magic, no special sauce. Just keep at it.

But you know me. I'm doing my best to get a little taste of every place--making my best guess at where to go and what to do.

Here in Bangkok--which is an overwhelmingly huge city, with no discernible city center--I just rode the skytrain to a gargantuan mall (very very Bangkok) and wandered around the indoor canal, staring unabashedly at the incredible burgeoning Thai middle class.

And then I rode the train back to the hotel (short trip, remember) and jumped in the huge pool. It's dark out and there are plenty of bugs (we may be in a huge city, but we're still in Thailand) so there are bats out there, and there were several--maybe four or five--who were flying around just above the waterline, buzzing around my head and hopefully catching the majority of the bugs who were probably hunting me.

Taxis take credit cards and use a strict metering system, and the public transportation there rivals what I saw in Hong Kong: it's cheap and efficient and easy to use.

The only thing they're missing there is some kind of equivalent to the Octopus Card, which is one of the best things about HK.

S'pore also has some of the craziest architecture I've ever seen, including this building. That boat-like thing on the top of those three towers is the "park" and pool connected to the "resort" (read: casino) in that complex. Those little stubbly things at the very top are palm trees. People are wandering around up there. It makes me a little sick to my stomach just thinking about it, but I also find it fascinating. If I'd been in S'pore for any longer, I'd have tried to get up there.

That fear isn't totally unfounded. It almost happened to me earlier this year in Villavicencio, Colombia, where the plane I was supposed to catch to Bogotá was canceled, and no one in the entire airport (if you could even call it that) spoke English. I got myself a juice at a little cafe and patiently (and hopefully) called the team I had been traveling with. Fortunately, they were still around and I just joined up with them and headed home. But the thought of negotiating a new plane flight in Spanish (which I speak, but not very well . . . certainly not well enough to arrange that transaction) was more than just daunting--it was terrifying.

I haven't felt that alone in a long time, and it was the worst kind of alone--alone, surrounded by people.

There's this girl named Carly who was recently in a serious accident and who is recovering amazingly (miraculously, even) but who cannot communicate yet with her family. She is an old, dear friend of some of the finest people I know.

I don't know her, but I think that moment in Villavicencio--when I was surrounded by people who wanted to help me, but we couldn't seem to get the words to mean anything to each other--that moment is probably something like what she is experiencing now. It's the experience I don't want to have in Singapore, or Chiang Mai, or Shanghai.

Traveling is an adventure. It's a privilege that I get to do it at all, even though I miss my family fiercely while I'm away. But it's also a challenge, and there are moments that are utterly terrifying. I wouldn't trade the adventure to avoid the fear, though. I guess that's just how it is.

It's amazing how fast that happens. She's been standing for some weeks now, but a few first real steps happened just a couple of days ago and now it's not even worth counting, she's on her feet so much.

But it has also been really amazingly beautiful. Overcast skies create such amazing, even, beautiful light. They're a photographer's dream. If I had time to be taking pictures, I'd go do it.

It also makes coffee taste better, books easier to read, and relationships deeply important. Just saying.

Fina, Zoe, Bubbles, Beach from Jeremy Varo-Haub on Vimeo.

Shot on my iPhone 4 and cut together simply in iMovie today.
The song is "A Little Opera Goes a Long Way" by Sky Sailing.
Adam Young is now Owl City, which is also absolutely worth a listen. You'll see.

Those of you who aren't Christians, trust me on this one (and all of you Christians who don't read your Bibles, you too). Spend a little time in there meeting all of the flawed people who aren't much different than you or me.

And if you're lucky, you'll be surprised by the character of Jesus. He surprises me at every turn, and it's His example, His character, His sacrifice, and His deep love that bring me back to my faith, even when I'm ready to walk away. I don't think that's a bad thing. I think it's right that I'm a Christian because of Christ, and Him alone.

It has been raining an incredible amount this summer, which is a nice change from last year, when it didn't rain much at all. We need it.

There's a little patch of grass in our front yard that has been brown for a good while. For all intents and purposes, it was dead. But a week of monsoon-like rains has come and gone, and the patch is almost completely restored. You wouldn't know where the spot was unless I pointed it out to you.

So far, I'm not terribly impressed by the writing, though I have been enjoying that the book is set in the PacNW, and that the character has spent the first 10 pages or so complaining about all of the things I love about my distant but still beloved home. I imagine, though, that if I bought the whole book and read it cover-to-cover, I'd discover that Stephenie Meyer is a hell of a storyteller. That's got to be true on some level, or the book wouldn't have grown into such a huge phenomenon.

The truth is, in the first several pages, the writing isn't impressing me, but it's not turning me off, either. It's not perfect, but it doesn't have to be. It's possible to be a great storyteller and an average writer. Actually, that's the point I'm trying to make: work hard on telling great stories first. Beautifully crafted, sparkling writing without a good story is constructed decoration.

In other book news, I've read all five books from the Temeraire series twice in the last month and a half, and I enjoyed them as much the second time as I did the first. Naomi Novik is both a great storyteller and an exemplary writer. It's kind of a weird mix of fantasy and historical (revisionist) fiction. A bit geeked out, for sure (which is definitely a plus, from my perspective) but absolutely delightful.

The first book is called His Majesty's Dragon, and as an added bonus, you can download free copies of it for the Kindle (iPhone app or device) or for any other e-reader you use. You can also get your hands on a free PDF of the whole book, but that's a bit more difficult to wrangle.

Be warned, however, that this is incredibly shrewd marketing, akin to a drug dealer giving you the first hit for free. You'll likely end up buying the other four books in rapid succession.

Enjoy!

Another of Zoe's favorite things these days is recognizing emergency vehicles when we are out driving. This is probably because they are so distinct from the rest of the cars and trucks on the road. (She also loves "bid tucks," which she also names by color: "Da. Dada. Da. Da. Da. Bid Tuck. Red bid tuck.")

She also knows them by sound. Once in a while, when she's hanging out with her mom, she'll say "a-ance" (ambulance) because she hears the siren. Amy, who has a hard time hearing low pitches, especially at distance, often cannot hear them at first, though they usually come in range quickly. Or she stops what she's doing and listens, and she hears the siren.

Today she said it, and Amy (as usual) didn't hear anything. But she listened hard, and still didn't hear anything. "I don't hear anything, Zoe," she said.

About 10 minutes later, both of them heard a siren, and Zoe looked up at Amy and said, "you found it!"

It's not that I don't believe in GTD—really, I think it's the best organizational system in the world. I've had more than a few sips of that Kool-Aid, but like everything else in my life, believing is one thing and performing is another.