Tree Frog Crusoe

A few days ago, I took the family to the mall to enjoy the free (I repeat, FREE) indoor playground there. After an hour of play we returned to our van in the parking lot and loaded up. The kids were loaded up and I was moving to get into the driver's seat when I saw something strange on the black Denali SUV next to us. It looked like a mushroom growing on the side of the vehicle, but I knew it couldn't be that and took a closer look. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a tree frog...an honest to goodness tree frog stuck to the side of a GMC Denali in the parking lot of a mall in Independence, MO.

How in the world does an animal indigenous to Central and South America find itself on the side of a vehicle in the middle of the midwest? Was it holding on to the side of that SUV for a long interstate road trip to the mall or did someone just randomly pick a car to stick a frog to in the mall parking lot? The only way I could understand how the frog was feeling was to picture myself hanging on to the side of a rickshaw in the middle of a Vietnamese farming village without really knowing how I got there. What would I eat? Where would I live? Do they have air conditioning?

I felt bad for the little guy and removed him from the Denali and placed him in a tree in one of the few green areas in the parking lot, all while he continuously leaked some sort of fluid on me in some sort of defensive maneuver. I figured every little bit helps. Until a raccoon eats him...

Lost and Found

Weeks and weeks ago I lost my iPod - poof, gone. I thought it had fallen out of our van somewhere between Kansas City and St. Louis. I was devastated and crushed. I was crestfallen and dismayed. I was broken and bemused...the gist of this being that I was not happy about losing my iPod.

Fast forward to this morning. Our scene is set...

Time: July 23, 8:20 am

Place: Chris' Office

Chris walks into his office and sits in the large office chair that is really too big to fit in such a small room. He cuts a handsome figure as he quite responsibly goes through his morning email. From below comes a growling noise. Chris has not eaten breakfast and his stomach is not happy with him. It is telling him, unintelligibly, that it desires some sustenance right now. Chris reaches down to his computer tower. On top of it is resting a box of Quaker Oatmeal packets. The flavor is pumpkin spice. It is delicious. Upon looking into the box, Chris realizes that he is down to his last oatmeal packet. He falls to one knee, raises both fists to the sky and shouts, "Why?!?" It echoes throughout the whole office, resounding off the confining walls.

Resigned to savoring this last pumpkiny treat, Chris reaches in and pulls out the packet. Something catches his eye. There is still something in the box. What could it be? A toy surprise? An unexpected extra packet of oatmeal? A dead bug? Chris draws closer to the box. His heart begins to pump harder and faster as his body prepares it's fight or flight response. He almost closes his eyes as the weight of the unexpected bears down on him, but he remains strong. He is a strong man. Very strong. Not just emotionally, but muscularly as well. He has huge guns would be the main point of the last few sentences...the author digresses.

Chris looks down into the empty box of oatmeal to realize that it is not done gifting him with goodness yet, because laying at the bottom is his missing iPod. He jumps up on his desk and screams to the sky with both hands raised, "YIPPEEEEEE!" He then pauses to think about why he yelled such a dumb word before getting down and sitting at his computer to blog to the world about what a great morning he has had.

I hope you enjoyed this scene. No details were changed or ommitted to protect the innocent.

Dear Facebook Part II

Dear Facebook,

There are times in every man's life when he must come to grips with the fact that he does not know everything and cannot possibly be right all the time. Those moments are rare for me (as those who know me well can attest), but in your case, FB, I have to step up and admit that I was wrong.

It was just over a year ago on July 14, 2008 that I publicly professed in this blog all of the frustrations that I had with you. I felt you were a little too coy, playing hard to get. Your interface both attracted and confused me leaving me unsure where our relationship really stood. Maybe I just wasn't ready for your world twelve months ago. Maybe our time wasn't until now, but Facebook, you were the one for me. Email is great but limited, and using Myspace feels like walking into a Jackson Pollack painting of the lawless wild west. But, Facebook, you have everything I want out of a social networking site. You were always the one.

So now I will post all the pictures that I take (without cropping out the elements that may not make me look like like some people - you know who you are). I will text them from my cell phone. I will poke those I am thinking about. I will have a mob war. I will like wall posts. I will chat at will. I will fight in my sorority. I will update my status regularly. I will keep Tom on my friend list. I will tend to my farm, and I will support causes! And together, we will face this bright future with eyes up and hearts strong! Hand in hand, Facebook, we can conquer any foe, climb any mountain and swim any ocean!

(The preceding is a paid advertisement.)

Kickball: Totally Extreme Soreness

Last Sunday night, The Creek met for two hours of Totally Extreme Kickball. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this nation-sweeping craze, let me explain what makes it totally extreme:

1. We have six bases instead of four - base 1.5 and 2.5 are in right and left field.
2. There are five outs per at bat (at kick?)
3. There are no force outs except for first base.
4. You can have as many people on one base as you want.
5. You can pass the runner in front of you.
6. You don't have to go back to the previous base if a ball is caught.
7. There is a wild ball. It sits behind home plate and can be used by the defense once per inning to get more people out as necessary.
8. I am the ultimate arbiter and judge of all the rules at any given time...including during the game. Cry about it all ya want.
9. People's heads often blow off the top of their necks during play because of the extreme awesomeness involved.

There is one other thing that makes Totally Extreme Kickball totally extreme: the extreme amounts of pain I still feel in my sore muscles. Who knew that kickball (an extreme version) could be the greatest physical and aerobic workout of all time in the entire history of the world? Not me, until now.

"Chris, you are just getting old." you might say. "Kickball is a game for the young, not the aged."

"Fie on that!" I say. "Run thee upon yon six bases, whether strapping young teen or mature oak of a man, and thy upper thigh muscles will burn with the fire of the blacksmith's forge!"

Somehow, it also makes you talk like you live in a small Icelandic village in the year 1647. The power of this game!!!