Seeing the Rainforest Cafe through new eyes

So we took the boys to the Rainforest Cafe. It wasn't the first time for any of us (so I knew not to expect much of the food). Still, it felt special. That's 'cause the boys are in the Age of Delight, where a "talking tree" and moving elephants and, as you can see, a fish tank next to the table, make for a peak experience. Did I mention the food sucked? The clam chowder was worse than canned, and the calamari was chilly. But the giant butterflies flapped their wings and a star shot across the night sky above and I forgot all that.

Thinking of Mom on Christmas Eve

I'm remembering my mother in an unusual way today. I'm watching "Journey to the Center of the Earth," starring her little crush, Pat Boone. I remember us watching that movie together many years ago -- a rare intersection of my interests (sci-fi, such as "Journey" is) and hers (the aforementioned vanilla crooner). Funny ... I forgot that they did their best to make it into a musical. He's singing "my love is like a red, red rose" as I type this. I also forgot how much of the movie he spent with his shirt off. No wonder she enjoyed it so much.

Anyway, it's odd to think that mom's been gone for six ... nearly seven years. Hard to get my mind around the fact that she's never met and will never meet my boys on Earth, though Cheryl and I like to imagine that she's up in heaven shouting "They're ad-VANCED!!!" I miss mom, though in some ways her leaving was just what our relationship needed.

I wish I had a better memory sometimes. I'd remember more of the bad stuff, sure, but I'd have clearer pictures of Christmases past, at my grandparents' house, everyone together in clouds of smoke. It got tough toward the end, but when I was a kid, I have faded recall of nights spent in log cabins and houseboats. Such cool homes. They didn't have the warmth of love in the way I've come to experience it, though I don't recall feeling less than loved. But they had a certain richness. Our family wasn't large in numbers, but the room felt full of history, of stories, of dreams ....

I want me kids to have all of that, minus the smoke, plus the warmth. I think they're getting it. I wish Mom could be here for it, even though I know that her presence was never uncomplicated. I may forget a lot, but I can't forget that.

The car that barely missed us

We were driving home from a special afternoon in Seattle when suddenly an oncoming car - this car - smashed through one barrier and flew over another . . . right into my path. But not just mine: I had Cheryl and the boys with me.

Somehow, miraculously, I swerved and hit nothing (and nothing hit me, except a shower of coolant from the flying vehicle). But I will never forget the vision of the underside of that car filling my windshield. And the sound of the barrier turning to sticks and twisted metal.

I'd like to say it is my driving skill that saved us, but I will instead go with luck. Or maybe those angels Mom used to bully into watching out for me.

Classic holiday Seattle

We joined the Science Center today. The boys love it, and wanted me to see the 'Colossal Fossils' on display for another few days. Good times, until . . .

Robots and the questions that keep 4-year-olds up at night

So, last night I heard Eddie crying and went to the bunkbed to see what was going on with my boys (who should have both been sleeping).

"He won't let me sleep! Chas needs to quit bothering me!" Eddie complained.

"There is a question I have to ask. It is very important," Chas explained.

I told Chas to ask me, and that I would handle it. The question: "If Eddie was a robot, would he tell me?"

It was all I could do not to laugh. And it was all I could do not to freak him out by saying: "Of course not! He'd wait until your guard is down and attack."

I assured him that his brother would indeed tell him. And soon, they were asleep.

My wife, the Sunday-school teacher

This is what family values looks like. (Yep, family values can be gay and churchy and welcoming and all that good stuff.)

We remain conflicted about our church, largely due to choices around behind-the-curtain stuff (which is why I'm not on any committees anymore). But this last Sunday was all good -- it reminded me what I love about the place: a great sermon from our new pastor, some hymn-singing and some hugs. And I got to see my girl teach her class (she's a natural), then attend a class by a church member who's a big-time Biblical archeologist.

Meeting Santa in Milton