Great Advice

I’ve had a lot of great advice over the years, but this is up there with the best, especially nowadays:

“You can’t date a 29-year-old like you’d date a 24-year-old.”

Pepe sent me this

I’m dead if he ever learns to unleash this on me.

Ain’t nothin secret about it

One of my favorite singers in college was Leslie Feist. She wrote a really helpful song about counting and she invented bangs (little-known fact). She’s got an awesome head-bang and plays a mean guitar. I like this little number she sang with some friends (I guess they’re friends?) in France this one time.

One of my co-workers is convinced that all of my stories end up being about dead animals, so here’s one that isn’t:

This guy on my street plays with his remote controlled car probably 15 hours every week, usually by himself. Our street isn’t a great RC street, but that doesn’t faze him. Totally a die-hard.

Les presento Francisco

(L-R: Me, Josh (intern and chupacabras), and Francisco)

San Francisco waaaaay before Francisco

Sadly, the great Kellen Gunderson no longer blogs, but he does still send me cool stuff from time to time. Recently he sent me this awesome film taken in San Francisco just days before the earthquake in 1906. Surprisingly, a lot of things are still the same. We still have a lot of questionable pedestrian decisions, great mustaches, and relatively low reliance on non-renewable resources. I wish I could find a way to embed directly here, but oh well. Watch it, or don’t.

San Francisco without the Francisco

Well, that was a fascinating adventure. After enjoying five days with our new friend Francisco, we sent him off to the airport this morning back to Chile. Such a crazy circumstance brought him to us, and he ended up being a really, really good guy. I had so much fun lapsing back into Spanish mode and joking around with the guy. He should be at home by tomorrow morning. Thanks so much for your prayers in his behalf. In honor of Francisco, here’s a great little video. It’s illegal footage, so catch it fast before it gets taken down.

Francisco without the San

Tonight (and perhaps more nights) we have a random Chileno named Francisco staying with us, because his dad kicked him out of his house. He’s trying to fly home to Chile now. I like the guy, and it’s been great speaking Spanish with him, but I think he and I both agree that we need to get him home ASAP. Everyone please pray that Francisco can get home safely and soon, and also that this whole incident can spark some interest in the Church. He’s a good guy. Adios.

I know, I know.

Yesterday was the Fourth. Today is the fifth (no capitalization deserved). However, I’m guessing most of you didn’t get anywhere near your daily recommended dosage of blue-sequined Neil. Disfruten.

Foul Surnames

Why is there a player on the Phillies whose last name is Bastardo? Am I missing something?

Just got back from Canada.

I’d throw up some pics, but I don’t have them yet, and pictures can’t do justice to a place like Banff anyway. Just go there. Among many other great experiences along the way, there was the discovery of new music. The best part of a road trip is singing in the car. Or playing instruments in the car. Somehow I didn’t know about this band until shortly before we ran out of gas in the wide, beautiful Montana prairie.

Just listen to it. And also think about this great thought from a little book I’ve been reading:

According to biblical tradition the absence of work – idleness – was a condition of the first man’s state of blessedness before the Fall. The love of idleness has been preserved in fallen man, but now a heavy curse lies upon him, not only because we have to earn our bread by the sweat of our brow, but also because our sense of morality will not allow us to be both idle and at ease. Whenever we are idle a secret voice keeps telling us to feel guilty.

Let’s do this. Just for fun, I’ll send a prize via mail to the person who can identify the source of that quote.