We love our Complexity!

I've been a little bit obsessed (mentally at least) with fighting complexity lately. I just look around everywhere I go - home, church, work . . . etc. - and I see things that people have done, however well-meaning, that have created huge complexity. Seems we're all kinda slaves to the complexities we've added to our lives. Again, it's not that we have some sort of sinister motives, we usually are just trying to do more good things: more meetings about helping people, more programs we can implement that'll be even bigger & better than the last ones, more projects that'll improve our homes, more activities for the kids, more products and services to sell, more visits to people, more trips, more complicated investments, more messages (e-mails, texts, IMs, calls) to friends, more great TV shows, more news to pay attention to, more hours worked so we can get more money . . . etc. You get my point.

Everything I mentioned there is a wonderful thing, usually, but I'm more and more convinced that many of us are becoming so successful at complicating our lives that we'll never do anything well and we become like the Thoreau quote - "living lives of quiet desperation." I'm as guilty as everyone else in this area. And I guess "guilty" is part of the thing here. When were don't do something that seems (in isolation) like a good thing to do, we end up with that happy guilt feeling. I'm reminded of the talk in the Fall '07 General Conference by Elder Oaks. We need to somehow prioritize and DESELECT. That guilt thing keeps us from feeling right about doing that. And it's too bad. In the end we are successfully scatterbrained doing a lot of great things not very well.
We'll never get to it all . . . never. I remember folks I met in Venezuela that lived in little huts with dirt floors and where 7 people slept, ate, and did everything else in one little, stuffy, room. Some of these folks were significantly happier than many people I know. So how is that possible?! I think simplicity had something to do with that. They had the people in their lives and not a lot else. I'm certainly not advocating austerity or anything, not at all. Still I think there's something to be learned there. So - for those of you still reading along, let me ask you - does any of this make any sense, sound familiar, sound crazy? What suggestions do you have? Leave a comment.
As for me, I'll try hard to keep things just a little more simple - wish me luck!

Proverbial Wisdom . . . sorta

I saw this on The Amish Robot and I know that that my kiddos are usually good for a few funny quotes. These are proverbs that I had Ethan and Braeden finish by saying the first thing that came to their minds after I game them the first half of each phrase:

Better to be safe than . . . watching TV
Strike while the . . . others play
It's always darkest before . . . night
Never underestimate the power of . . . God or The Force
You can lead a horse to water but . . . you can't lead a horse to Canada
Don't bite the hand that . . . belongs to a lion
No news is . . . pretty boring
A miss is as good as a . . . strike
You can't teach an old dog new . . . tricks
If you lie down with dogs you'll . . . get fleas
Love all, trust . . . your parents
The pen is mightier than the . . . pencil
An idle mind is . . . sleeping
Where there's smoke there's . . . a car
Happy is the bride who . . . is married
A penny saved is . . . one cent
Two's company, three's . . . a family
Don't put off 'til tomorrow what . . . is special
Laugh and the whole world laughs with you, cry and . . . scream
None are so blind as . . . mice
Children should be seen and not . . . punished
If at first you don't succeed . . . go plant a seed
You get out of something what you . . . like
When the blind leadeth the blind . . . they won't know where they're going
Better late than . . . dying

So if you ever can't remember how the proverb goes, just give us a call and you'll get some fine elementary school wisdom!

The Reptile that Almost Ate Me

So on Tuesday I flew down on the big D. I knew I was in Texas when the first thing I saw getting off the plane was a guy getting his cowboy boots professionally polished. I'm not dissin' the guy, it just looked funny. (you can tell what a cowboy I am) Our Sales Communication team was having a multi-day meeting at a ranch that was like an hour and half outside the city. Texas is different than other places. I'm not going to make any jokes about it, because I'm told everyone there has guns or at least their mothers do. The time at the ranch was great and we had fun. I left just after lunch on Wednesday and saw this in the middle of the gravel road just outside the parking lot:

For those of you who aren't zoologists, that is a 30-foot long, man and/or woman-eating, fangorious (a word I just made up), hyper-venomous, viper-snake, native to Indonesia, Madagascar, and apparently a corporate retreat in Texas. (Actually it's probably a 4-foot bull snake that's about as dangerous as a gummy worm.) But something you should know about me, and I mean this in all seriousness - I would rather be locked in a room with an ax-murderer who hated bald guys than I would be within a hundred feet of a live snake of any kind. My phobia is as extreme as you can imagine. My hand was actually shaking as I took this photo - FROM INSIDE MY CAR! Make your little jokes, I know it's totally unreasonable. But Indiana Jones has done ok for himself in spite of his snake issues.
As I inched the car closer to get a better shot (and to crank up my own anxiety level) my new fork-tounged friend slithered off the road. Here is my photo of him off in the grass (sorry about the resolution):So our family is supposed to do a camping vacation by a lake in northern Texas in a couple weeks. You can guess how my snake run-in has me feeling about that. If Traci falls asleep while I'm driving, we may accidentally end up in Minnesota.

My 3-Week Vacation

Well my little blog hiatus is coming up on 3 weeks in a couple days. No real reason for the absence, just found other things to do. And for the first time in a really long time I'm sitting here with no idea at all about what to blog about. So here are just a few quick hits from stuff that's happened since I last blogged:

- We had our 10th Wedding Anniversary - This is an impressive feat of endurance on Traci's part. I'm awfully glad she's hung in there. I'm like her eternal service project. Someday she'll get me just the way she wants. This event also helped make it clear to me that I'm getting older way faster than I'd like. 10 years ago doesn't even seem like that long ago. But it was pre-kids, so that makes it feel like it was in the 1800s.
- As a way to celebrate the aforementioned anniversary we seriously splurged and bought 6th row tickets to Wicked on eBay. It was better than I'd even imagined. Go see it if you haven't already, and invite me to go with you. I promise not to sing along too much.
- Braeden has started baseball games. This provides hours of non-baseball-related entertainment as we watch little boys pretend they know what they're doing, or even care that much. They're far more interested in doing creative things with, well, dirt. More to come on this topic . . .
- I'm playing the piano in primary. Need I really say more. (snicker, snicker)
- Work is really busy. With the recent layoffs my job effectively doubled in scope a few weeks ago. Ah, the joys of working at a struggling company. For now I'm calling it an opportunity.
- Lost (the TV show) just had the first hour of its 3 hour season finale. I LOVE the show, so don't get me wrong. But do we really need a 3 hour finale spread out over 3 weeks?! Why don't we call it a 16-hour finale and have it start in January and wrap up in May?! Sheesh.

I could go on, but if I do it might be 3 more weeks until I blog. To the few of you who have urged me on to get writing again, thanks, . . . I think. Traci just kinda ridiculed me into it. (she does that to get me to do other things too).

Life is grand.

The day my job was all about graham crakers

For months now Sydney (4 year old) and I have been having this same conversation most every morning:

Her: “Daddy, do you have work today?”

Me: “Yes, Sydney”

Her: “Why”

Me: “So you can eat and have a house to live in.”

Her: (thinking hard and choosing not to reflect on whatever I just said) “But I want you be a WatchDog (click the link) at my school.”

Me: “I will, but I can’t today”

Her: (after a huge huffing sound) “But when will you?!”

Me: “Not sure, but I’ll let you know. Now please go get ready for school, baby.”

Usually this conversation happens while I’m getting ready for work after she breaks through a couple of locked doors. I’ve been putting her off for some time now, so I finally picked a day (last Friday) and went with her to her half-day preschool class. Here are a few observations:

- I think I’m a patient guy, but those teachers are off the charts. Pretty sure I could kick one in the shins really hard and she’d respond by offering me chocolate milk. Truly these are saints.

- It’s fascinating to see how kids don’t care about or even notice so many of the things we’re so hung up on (clothes, beauty, intelligence, personal hygiene . . . etc.)

- I tried to push Sydney and some other kids on swings at recess and was politely told by one of the teachers that that was a big no-no for liability reasons. Wow, that’s a sad commentary all by itself. I was paranoid for the rest of the recess.

- Graham Crackers and milk should be mandatory in corporate America. Everyone kinda stops fighting and it all just feels better while you munch.

- I’m an awfully lucky guy to have a daughter who’s so proud to show off her daddy. Now if she wants me to hang out with her like this when she’s 15 I’ll really have made it!

It was a great day. So my advice to my fellow fathers out there – when you’re asked to go hang out with your kiddos at school, send your boss some graham crackers, and say yes to the little person.

How I got my own "band"

Sunday there were some fun changes for Traci and I. In our church we have “callings” which are kinda like volunteer jobs since the local church is entirely run by a lay ministry (no one gets paid to do anything). The local leaders of each unit, the bishopric, decide, with prayer and discussion, who will serve in which calling. Then the members can decide whether to accept or not. We’ll for the last 2.5 years I’ve been in the bishopric of our congregation. It’s been fun, but it’s lots of hours, and a bit of stress. Nothing compared to what the bishop has to handle. Anyway, this weekend I was “released” from that calling and called to be . . . wait for it . . . the piano player in the primary (the children’s organization). BEAUTIFUL!! I was all-smiles on Sunday. Traci was called to be the president of the Young Women group (girls ages 12-18). So she’s the busy one now. It’s one of my favorite things about our church – that we all just help each other out and no one is more important or valuable than anyone else. It’s not easy, cuz we all have real jobs and families and all – but it’s part of what we do. So now all three of the Pope boys (Rob, Ryan & me) are “professional” musicians. People have asked me for years why I didn’t do that music thing like my brothers. In addition to the fact that I don’t have musical talent like them, I have several clever answers. Well now, I’m a piano player for a “group.” (ages 3-11) How about that?!

Bands, Beards and Brothers

On Wednesday I was lucky enough to go see the Counting Crows with my brother, Ryan. He knows the promoter here locally and got us into the sold out show. This is a band I've been wanting to see for over a decade, but it never quite worked out. When we got to the show I realized that you don't exactly have assigned seats at a place like this. See, usually when we go see my brothers' bands we have a roped-off section with seats in the balcony where we can watch the show. It became pretty clear how spoiled I am. We aren't the tallest guys in the world, so as we tried to find our spots on the floor I was looking directly at some guy's back instead of at Adam Duritz. Not cool. And that guy in front of me tended to be a quite drunk college guy who really liked himself and had a vocabulary consisting of 50% R-rated words that really didn't make sense as he yelled incoherent phrases at the people around him. He also had a girl with him who seemed somehow impressed by Mr. Haughty. As he kept drinking heavily he started moving around a lot more and shared his beer with my shirt and shoes. Awesome.
But Ryan knows people. As we walked around the venue he strangely kept greeting and hugging shaggy-haired guys with huge beards. After three or four of these encounters I was wondering what the deal was with my brother's bearded friends. I figured if my lack of bushy facial hair was somehow making me even less cool. One of these guys happened to be the "bouncer guy" for the balcony section. Ryan chatted with him (and he chatted back extensively), and got us a spot standing behind the balcony seats where the ceiling is really low. (no problem for the vertically-challenged folks) It was marvelous! I could see everything I wanted to and I didn't even have to stand on my tip-toes. After we left the show and after I had pointed out that all his friends seemed to have foliage on their faces, Ryan ran into another one on the sidewalk. We both laughed as they shook hands. Hilarious.
The band was great and everything, but I'll tell ya, what I'll remember most from the night was joking around with Ryan.

And I haven't shaved since.


j/k

Siberian Soccer

I’m a weather guy. I like following extreme weather – from a safe distance of course. On Saturday morning Ethan had his first soccer game and the forecast looked a little cold. (40 degrees with wind and possible rain – which is pretty weird for KC in mid-April) I declared that I would be the brave parent to go tackle the elements so the Mrs. HTF could stay home with the kiddos. I told Ethan to go get ready and he came bounding down the stairs with his soccer shorts and short-sleeve jersey on. In the aggravating way that parents do, I told him repeatedly that he needed to wear more clothes cuz it was gonna be cold. He rolled his eyes and huffed so hard that he parted my hair . . . or at least would’ve parted my hair if I, you know, had some. He told me how “uncool” (that’s a nice word choice) he’d look wearing sweats and long sleeves. But I was the evil dad who made him bring warm clothes – though he wouldn’t actually put them on.

The second he got out of the Civic at the soccer field he jumped back in and put everything on.

It was FREEZING! The biting northern wind made me wonder if we were somewhere in Canada. He borrowed some gloves and did ok. I was forced to just stand and watch – along with all the other violently shivering parents. At least the kids got to run a little bit. The highlight was when a few little rain drops turned into sleet, and then into “sneet” (that’s a technical term created by me for the cross between snow and sleet) showers being blown at us sideways like we were in a dust storm. At one point it was full-on blizzard-like. I’m not a big soccer aficionado, but there’s no way kids should be playing soccer in weather like this, and I’m certain parents shouldn’t be standing/sitting watching kids play soccer in weather like this. But they trudged on – after the game some kids had to dig their parents out of piles of blankets and coats to let them know that the game was, you know, over. The smart parents stayed in the cars, or in the case of my omniscient wife, sent their spouses to the game. Let me know never be accused of being one of those smart parents! At the height of the icy blizzard I was warmed by a single profound thought –

I’m paying big money for this . . . awesome.

The girl I married . . . I think . . .

The 25th of April is our 10th wedding anniversary. I remember before we were married how well I thought I knew the future Mrs. HTF. I was sure that our 16 months or so of dating/engagement made me the definitive expert on Traci. Now a decade later I'm realizing more and more that I have a lot to learn and I continue to be surprised, almost exclusively in a great way. The girl I married thought that music stopped being created in 1979 (and should be played at a low volume) and that getting dressed up meant wearing your nicest flannel shirt and hiking shoes. (yes, she's quite Alaskan) I was good with all that - didn't matter much to me. I was lovin' her for other reasons. But last week I sat next to her at a rock concert as she rhythmically bobbed her head and belted out a few songs. She would occasionally smile at me with that grin that says, "surprise, I'll bet you didn't know I was secretly this cool." And her clothes were stylin'. (not that I'm any sort of expert on clothing style . . . as any of you know who me would attest) The girl I married also knew so little about current events that she couldn't tell me which two countries fought in the Iran/Iraq War. Now she zings me often with the "breaking news" of the day gleamed from significant reading of the big news web sites.

So I haven't been cool in many, many years (actually never), but I'm realizing that in addition to all the amazing things my wife is, that she's, . . . well . . . way cooler than me.

And I'm good with that.

Over the past six months or so especially, I've had to stop and stare as she downloaded amazing alt rock songs from iTunes or told me what was what in the presidential election. The way her coolness is increasing and mine is declining below zero . . . I'm just left to wonder . . . what'll this girl be like by the time we move into the nursing home?!

La Locura de Marzo

It's been hard to keep myself from blogging about March Madness. In my last little podcast thing I mentioned it. But I'll restate again, this is the BEST time of the year. Because of other fun things going on I haven't been able to catch as many games as I would've liked. But I'm really happy with how things have played out, with KU especially of course. Each year I get together with 40+ of my friends/family to fill out our brackets to see who the most educated basketball fan is. However, it inevitably ends up that basketball education has little or nothing to do with picking the brackets. That part makes it all the more fun. The Mrs HTF has now beaten me 10 out of the past 11 years. And I don't think she's watched an entire hoops game during that decade plus stretch. Humiliating? yeah, it is. You should read her recent post about the whole thing where she gives her take on it along with some history. She also makes fun of me for using yellow highlighters. I'm in 22nd place and Traci is one freakin' point ahead of me. Incidentally, Ethan (our 8 year old) is in 5th place. I guess we all know who he takes after. Anyway, I hope you all are enjoying the madness. GO JAYHAWKS!!