This weekend we had the pleasure of a visit from Kathy’s cousin, Heather
Price. Heather has spent the last half decade over in France and Italy
pursuing a modeling career, and has now decided to begin a shopping service
there for visiting women. It had been a long time since Kathy had seen
Heather, and this was the first time I’d met her, so we pretty much crammed
our time with conversation, interrupted only for wrestling with the kiddos.
Liam especially seemed to take a shine to her, and she assured us that his
pronounciation of her name was superior to that of most Europeans.

In order to administer websites of any complexity, it’s vital to have
software designed for the task to help out. I have a number of tools in my
kit, but the one that I’d be most loathe to part with is Conversant, the super-powerful
software that runs on the server where this website sits and provides great
administrative tools, a built-in stylesheet editor, a discussion group,
content management tools, email and newsreader access to the site, and much
more. Now, because Conversant is actually a very well-thought-out groupware
platform, the good folks at Macrobyte
Resources can add great features with wild abandon. The latest example
of their hard work and Conversant’s flexibility is the group
calendar they’ve just added to all the Conversant sites. It interfaces
seamlessly Conversant’s other features, and is one of the
more powerful implementations of web-based-calendaring that’s out there.
Kudos to all at Macrobyte for their excellent work. (Full disclosure: I used
to work for Macrobyte, though I think I’d still feel the same way about
Conversant if I hadn’t.)

Searching for Bobby Fischer is a wonderful, rather unappreciated movie which hits on many of the same themes that Good Will Hunting approached. The story is that of a boy who shows tremendous aptitude at chess and the subsequent struggle between reaching his potential as a chess player and living the life of a normal boy. The cast and their acting is excellent, James Horner’s score enjoyably melodic, and the children charming. Definitely worth renting and making sure you have time to watch uninterrupted.

One of the delightful things about living in this part of the country is
that all of the towns, big and little, have festivals celebrating the
produce or aspect of their culture they’re known for. Perhaps foremost among
them is the Poteet
Strawberry Festival, though Spamarama and Art Car Weekend aren’t
to be missed either. This weekend marks the 31st annual Chilympiad, which benefits the local
chapter of the American Red Cross and a little girl who’s suffering from
cancer. Of course, one can’t have a chili cook-off without a parade, and
this morning’s was a doozie. My favorite participants: the local low-rider
club, who had their hydraulically enhanced vehicles out in their full glory,
the chinese dragon being pulled by the lawn tractor, and the Harley Davidson
riders, who both by dint of numbers and battle-readiness would have the odds
in their favor if it came to a showdown with the Army Reserve Unit that
preceeded them. Dang, them hawgs is loud!

Kathy went in for the last prebirth sonogram on Monday, and everything looks
good. There had been some question previously about the placental alignment,
but it seems to have shifted to a more appropriate orientation. The little
one is about six and a half pounds now, and they expect her to add another 2
pounds by B-Day. The due date remains around the second week of October.
Best of all, they checked, and she’s still a girl.

This is one of those books which, each time I read it, causes my soul to
vibrate sympathetically with the sheer truth of it. C.S. Lewis manages to
steer a good course through some potentially treacherous waters, focusing on
the essentials of what constitutes Christian faith, as well as offering up
one of the best apologies in print for God’s existence based on the presence
of moral standards. (It was parts of this book that inspired the thinking
for Moral Relativism and Howard Stern.) It’s interesting to me to note
that, though Lewis is much beloved by the conservative Christian
sub-culture, he’s actually theologically to the left of where they as a
group stand.

Another in Tony Hillerman’s Jim Chee/Joe Leaphorn Navajo, The Fallen Man
starts with the discovery of a dead body below a seldom-climbed rock face on
the Navajo reservation. Chee and the now-retired Leaphorn become
progressively more involved with the mystery of who the man was, and how he
came to meet his end. As one now expects with Hillerman’s work, the story is
solid, enriched by the very human drama of its participants. My one
complaint: this on-again, off-again thing with Jim Chee and Janet Pete seems
to have been dragging on through far too many novels. Ok, there’s tension
between the Navajo way of life and that of the white man. WE GET IT! <ahem>

Here’s another photo log, this one of a recent trip to Fredericksburg and the Enchanted Rock Recreation Area with my friend and musical co-conspirator Steve Johnson. Lots of Texas Hill Country beauty for those of you who aren’t fortunate enough to live here in God’s Country.

Don’t call the cat “Fuzzy Butt” when the kids are listening.

Well, it was way back in 1990 (or thereabouts). I was a student at The King’s College when we got the great news that Paul Simon would be playing a free concert in Central Park, open to the public, entirely general admission. Since Graceland had just come out recently and convinced us all that Paul Simon was a musical genius nonpareil, several of my friends and I decided that we would be there. Further, wanting to ensure that we got the best seats possible, we decided to sleep in Central Park like a bunch of unusually giddy homeless people. We went out, set up camp with a couple dozen other people who had apparently had the same idea, and went to sleep. Halfway through the night, it began to rain, and we all got pretty well soaked. Since the concert didn’t begin until evening, we ended up loitering around Central Park in our wet clothes all day, chafing and complaining, but still looking forward to the event. Finally, about 3 hours before the show started, they opened up the seating area, and we swarmed in, along with the few thousand others who had showed up by that time. We spread out our blanket close enough to the stage that I could have lobbed an apple at Paul and stood a fair chance of hitting him (and a better chance of spending the night with the NYPD). More waiting, and finally the concert began!

This was easily one of the best concerts I’d ever attended. No pyrotechnics, no lasers, no light shows, just an excellent sound system, and about a zillion musicians up on stage with Paul Simon, who was in impeccable form and obviously enjoying the crowd’s enthusiasm. One particular percussionist was great fun to watch, as he would only play a single note on the downbeat of every other measure, and would spend the remaining seven beats just dancing around the drum. The bass player gave out about halfway through the solo in You Can Call Me Al and just resorted to some slaps and pops, but we all cheered him anyway. We kept expecting Art Garfunkel to put in a cameo, since this was Central Park and all, but no such luck. In spite of that one failing, it was a great show, and a great experience that if I had it all to do over again, I would gladly repeat. Only this time, I’d bring a pair of dry underwear with me for after the rain.