That last post looked really bad…
My day hasn’t been awful, just long, and a bit frustrating (work-wise).
The party wasn’t bad at all - I had a great time, and I’m going out tomorrow night to see Prince Caspian with a couple of guys, which is cool.
I had a yummy breakfast, and dinner is smelling delicious.
So, not bad at all, but not three-year-old-child exciting.
RodeoClown: 26 still.
Yippee…!
I’m 26 now.
Many thanks to all those who said “Happy Birthday”
Today has been… a day.
Last weekend we had a (very) small party, which was nice.
Sometimes I wish birthdays could be exciting again. Not that it has been bad, just a bit meh.
RodeoClown: older. Again.
When I say ‘God‘, I don’t mean a nameless, impersonal ‘god’, or ‘the force’, or ‘the universe’, or ‘mother nature’, or Allah, or Krishna, or anything or anyone else that is worshipped by men.
When I say ‘God‘, I am referring to Yahweh, the God of the Bible, the father of Jesus, the creator and sustainer of everything that is. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. The God who sent his son to die in my place.
When I say ‘God‘, that is who I am talking about.
“I am Yahweh; that is my name!”- Yahweh, [Isaiah 42:8a]
RodeoClown: clearing things up.
Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails) writes a song.
Johnny Cash covers it.
Reznor says “I haven’t listened to my version since then.”
Cash’s version is pretty awesome. I think it’s the video that makes it.
By changing the tone just a little, he turns it from a song about heroin addiction to a song about the whole of life.
It’s a little depressing. But that’s not a bad thing.
RodeoClown: also hurt. But different.
I got woken up at 10:45 last night by the sound of someone screaming my name from the other end of the house. Matty could hardly breathe and so we ended up rushing down to the hospital to get him sorted out.
By the time we were 5 minutes down the road, his breathing was much better, but still a bit wheezy. We debated turning around, but figured we may as well take him to the hospital and just make sure everything was OK.
Turns out he has croup, and the doctor said it was a good thing we brought him in. After a quick dose of steroids, we brought him back home. Tucked into bed at 2:30am. And back out at 6:15… ah well, he seems happy enough now.
It’s a bit awe-inspiring how a disease considered a killer not so long ago is now just a minor irritation, that can be sorted out with a quick swig of a clear liquid.
Many thanks to God for letting our kids have access to such healthcare.
RodeoClown: tired.
I Ian, in the presence of God,
take you Jennifer to be my wife;
to have and to hold
from this day forward,
for better for worse,
for richer for poorer,
in sickness and in health,
to love and to cherish
as long as we both shall live.This is my solemn vow and promise.
—
Jennifer, with this ring I wed you;
With all that I am and all that I have
I honour you;
In the name of God. Amen.
RodeoClown: doesn’t promise much.
I’m not really sure where the time has gone, but the little dude I caught at 5:32am on one fine Tuesday morning, has turned four.
He’s doin’ fine!
One of my wife’s traditions is to ask the kids what cake they want from the Women’s Weekly Birthday Cake book.
Matty chose the rocket cake. Jen’s not planning on making one again - it was quite tricky. But also awesome and tasty.
Clinkers, freckles and fruit sticks - how can you go wrong?
RodeoClown: loves his biggest boy to the moon. And back.
I found this amusing:
RodeoClown: easily amused (and pointing to his head).
RodeoClown: likes this.
If you are a lady who gets surgery to make you look like a dude downstairs, and then the government gives you a bit of paper that says they will pretend like you are really a dude, and not just a lady with a beard and some dangly bits stuck on, and then you decide that you want a kid and stop taking the dude-pills, so you can get pregnant…
I think that pretty conclusively proves that you aren’t really a dude. Just a lady who really wants to be a dude - and I mean, what lady doesn’t?
RodeoClown: is a real dude.
