Yoda Rules.

I'm sure you will enjoy this, Jodi (if you haven't already seen it, of course)

Road Trip.

Oh yeah. Eight (or nine... or more) hours in the van with Rusty and boys. We're going to Cincinnati tomorrow. Liam is off school for a long weekend for some sort of teacher's planning day thing. The weather is supposed to be great this weekend and the drive isn't actually that bad when it's pretty outside. We drive through the mountains in western Maryland and West Virginia (you GO, West Virginia, with your 70 MPH speed limit!)

In less than 24 hours we will be sighing with relief as we finally hit I-71, watching the boys in the rearview mirror as they try to get a glimpse of Kings Island on the way by, most likely having dinner with my mom, my sister and my brother-in-law like we do every time we're able to come in to town on a Thursday, and playing phone tag with family to coordinate time together while we're in town.

Saturday morning, I will be eating breakfast with my best friend, Amy, whom I've known for 18 years now. I will be mocking my brother, my husband, and other friends (most of whom my brother and I have known since high school) while they get ready for their yearly fantasy baseball draft (the reason we're going to Cincinnati this weekend. Yes, I'm totally serious.) But though I mock? I love the fact that my husband and my brother are so close that Rusty has been allowed to become a part of something like that. It seems small, but it's one of those things that's just continued and there's some sort of comfort in the familiarity of it. I adore my brother and his blind love of all things baseball, no matter which player happens to be accused of what. And I love that every year "could be the Red's year."

I'm so excited that this weekend I will get to snuggle my baby nieces, listen to my nephew shriek with laughter as Liam and Sean chase him around yelling, "Jakey! Jakey!" I will get to ask my mom for her help with an art project and listen to my dad and Rusty talk sports while chilling in front of the TV in the family room.

I'm really excited to be going home.

Happiness is...

...seeing your seven year-old bust a move when he doesn't know you're watching.

Immigration, anyone?

Ok. So living in the Washington D.C. area you get a little tired of the politics. I'll admit that a good portion of the stupidity goes right over my head. But this immigration thing is killing me. I heard the very stupidest conversation ever this morning and I wanted to just stop this person and ask if they had any clue what the crap they were talking about. Let's get this out in the open now, everyone. I am not for this immigration thing becoming a bill and then a law. That may irritate those of you in the "Learn English or go home" camp, but why don't you clam up and let me explain my problem with this.

My problem? The whole "let's make it a felony to immigrate illegally, to hire illegal workers and to aide illegal immigrants." Why does that bother me? Am I all for opening the borders an letting in every unchecked person - including terrorists and maniacs - into the the U.S.? No. Don't be stupid. There are all kinds of ideas up for how to legalize the people already here and holding jobs, providing valuable services and actually being useful. Again, my problem is with this attitude:

Tancredo said enforcing existing laws would discourage illegal immigration because employers would be unable to hire undocumented workers.

"If you actually began to enforce that, then you would see that millions of people will return home to their countries of origin voluntarily because, frankly, there's nothing else to do," he said. - Rep. Tom Tancredo, a Colorado Republican on CNN.com

That? Is just a dumb statement. Like anyonewho has risked their life and spent great deals of money to get here is going to just pull up stakes and decide to head home. But even that isn't the basic problem I have with what's at stake. My problem, again, is with making it illegal to not only come into the country illegally but to hire illegal workers and to aide illegal immigrants. So why is this bugging me so much? "Aide" includes pastors, churches and even medical personnel. Doctors. Teachers. Programs like Mercyworks and Su Casa in Cincinnati. Do they screen those they currently minister to? I don't know. Maybe they do and this is irrelevant. But if they don't? I don't want them to have to. I read a quote by someone at a protest that said God is not an "American God." I know that irritated some people. But for some of the people this law would affect, that statement means everything to them and their ministry. Does a service like Mercyworks turn away an immigrant family in need? Does a Hispanic church screen people walking in the door before they start the service? Does a doctor refuse to treat a patient -- a critical injury, cancer, some easily curable sickness that can lead to death if not treated -- just because that patient isn't legal? Yes, those are tough situations and hard to say one way or the other. And for many of us comfortable American citizens it's easier to just not think about it because it's not "us." But for anyone with any kind of faith or belief in God, it comes down to this: I don't believe God would be happy with people not being cared for or ministered to because they aren't "legal." God says "whatever you do unto the least of these"... I don't think "check their credentials first" was part of that. I'm just sayin'.

If you don't believe my problem is a widespread one? Read on:

Dozens of members of the clergy planned to wear handcuffs to protest what they said is the House bill's criminalization of their aid programs for poor immigrants.

Go, Clergy.

To end this post, I ask a favor. If you don't know any immigrants, particularly those from Central and South America? Go find one. Talk to them. Make eye contact and smile when they're bussing your table or holding the "Stop/Slow" sign at the road construction site down the street. If you get a chance, ask them about their homeland and what they had to go through to get here. There's a good chance you'll be astounded that anyone would be so desperate that they would give up everything familiar to them to risk everything they have, including their life, to get here. We tend to forget how blessed we are and sometimes it takes a face-to-face reminder. We don't have to decide if we will flee to the U.S. to request political asylum or to make enough money to send back to our family at home so they can survive.

Ok. That's my rant for the day. I'm not saying just let anyone in and who gives a crap. I am saying I don't want anyone telling us that reaching out to someone in need is a crime if they're the "wrong" someone. I haven't been going around ranting about this all week. This is strictly after having been stirred up by the stupid person this morning.

Quote of the week

I've been re-doing the boys' bathroom. Again. Has something to do with the old medicine cabinet and hanging light bulbs and not being able to close the cabinet doors. Anyway... I had to take down the medicine cabinet. The lights were attached to the top of the medicine cabinet. Because? It was ugly like that. So, I got the new light fixture put up (that's another story altogether. Because? The person who built this house was apparently a meth addict.) But I didn't get the mirror put up yet. I asked the boys if they'd be ok brushing their teeth without the mirror for one night. Liam looks at me like I'm stupid and goes, "Yeah. I know where my teeth are." Scary that Sean said he couldn't brush without the mirror.

Shame. It can be a good thing.

Ok. I'm going to ask a question that may make you uncomfortable. It may make you want to hide your face and wish you'd never come here. But this is for your own good. So buck up and answer me when I ask, "How many of you have intentionally watched Red Dawn?" (and by "intentionally", I mean "without a gun held to your head" or "not under the influence of alcohol or powerful sedatives.")

I'm asking because... ok, I can do this... My name is Stacie. And I watched Red Dawn. Or at least part of it with Rusty the other night. Only part of it, dammit. Don't you judge me! Between the Swayze-ness, the Sheen factor and the C.Thomas Howell of it all? My brain revolted and threatened to physically leave my body if I did not refrain from watching immediately. It's just bad, bad 1980's movie making. Baaaad. Really bad. It took nearly two days to stop mentally yelling "Wolverines!", and that? Is just wrong, people.

I'll be honest and say that I didn't see this movie when it came out (I was like 10. My parents probably didn't see any redemptive value to having their elementary school aged child watch a badly made movie about the Cubans and Russians invading mid-America. Good job, Mom and Dad. Seriously.) Maybe this movie, like Aqua Net and George Michael, didn't seem so terrible when placed against the backdrop of mid-1980's American culture. But Aqua Net turned out to be bad for the ozone layer. And so did George Michael, for that matter. So "It was the 80's" is no excuse. That movie should not be in rotation on the modern day cable networks. It should be allowed to slip silently into the same drawer with our pegged jeans and doubled up florescent socks and left to die.

Please, I beg of you. Stop the Swayze-ness.

That's funny.

Want to see something funny? Click here. They seem to think I'm a totally mature and capable adult (shut up. Do not tell them what you know. I will pay you.) Besides, it's only a matter of time before they find out for themselves...

Podcast Bandwagon (jumping on way late)

Ok. So Jodi is the Podcast queen. I? Am so not. I have listened to a few random downloads but hadn't actually subscribed to anything. Until today. I downloaded Mosaic based on Jodi's rave reviews and hope to listen to it sometime this weekend. Then I decided to check and see if the Vineyard has a podcast because I would subscribe to Dave Workman and friends in a heartbeat (no such luck. Get on the ball, Vineyard!) So then I wandered aimlessly around Google checking for buzz on anything else I may want to subscribe to. I found a site called Bored-Again Christian. Then I realized it was a Christian music site, but not necessarily your average Christian music -- no Amy Grant or Michael W. Smith going on here. Thank goodness! (Sorry, Jodi. But I'm not a fan.) Anyway, I downloaded the first podcast to give it a trial listen and was very pleasantly surprised. The music is really good. So I'm officially subscribed to a podcast I found on my own. I feel like such a big girl now. Give me a cookie.

Twinsies.

If you know our four year old Sean, is this not a glimpse into the future?! George Duran (Ham on the Street/Food Network) looks just like what I can imagine Sean looking like in twenty years.

He gets it.

Have you ever heard of Backyard Hockey? It's a computer game for kids. The game's characters are kids in a neighborhood hockey game and includes some NHL players as kids. If you haven't heard of Backyard Hockey then perhaps you've heard of Backyard Baseball, Backyard Football, Backyard Basketball and/or Backyard Soccer. Or in the near future you may see the soon-to-be-released Backyard Skateboarding (Liam is waiting anxiously to see if they ever get around to Backyard Luge or Backyard Speed-Skating. Poor kid.)

Anyway, Liam loves these games. You can click on any player's picture and they'll pop up and tell you a little bit about themselves. And since the players are all kids, their comments are child-like and sometimes totally not related to the sport at hand. There is a catchy theme song for the game and even play-by-play. So yesterday, when Liam called me to the computer room to "see something", I figured he'd found yet another player whose one-liner made him laugh and he wanted me to hear it. I walked in to find him looking at the player stats for "Ricky". Ricky says something but Liam doesn't do his usual "Listen to what he says, Mom!" Instead, he says, "Listen to this song, Mom" and I realize he's listening to the music playing in the background. It's actually a nice song played on the piano and totally different than the manic theme-song of the game. But I'm not sure what reaction I'm supposed to give so I say, "I really like that." Because? I really did. Liam turns to me with a smile and says, "Doesn't that song make you think of God?"

Now, for you reading this? This may not be a big deal. But for me, as the mother who's had to answer hundreds of questions about God only to be told by her then-six year old that he doesn't think there really is a God? Liam's observation was amazing. And it was thrilling because he totally illustrated what I was talking about in my last post. Liam felt God in a beautiful little background song buried in the chaos of a children's computer game. That? Makes me all sniffly.

Art.

Why is it that I, who have spent my life writing, struggling to be a better artist, and struggling also to be a better Christian, should feel rebellious when I am called 'a Christian Artist'? Why should I feel reluctant to think or write about Christian creativity? - Madeleine L'Engle 

Have you ever read a book that made you feel like the author knew something about you? Something that was so much an answer to questions or doubts you'd had that it made you want to cry with relief to find out someone understands? For me, this is that book:

It may sound over-dramatic, but some of the things Madeleine L'Engle talks about in this book are things I've wrestled with since starting my hardcore art classes back in college. In those classes? I felt like a part of me woke up. My choice to major in studio art went from feeling like a default to having a purpose. I know it may sound over the top, but it became my passion (we don't really talk in terms of "passion" anymore. It sounds so dramatic but it's really the perfect phrase to describe my feeling about it.)

I remember during one of my summer sessions my senior year, the studio we worked in was a bit small too small for the ten of us taking the class. The T.A. gave me permission to move upstairs to an unused studio. For the entire four week term I spent four to six hours a day in that studio. I still remember the 2-story high ceilings letting in the summer sun, the smell of the paint and the sound of my CD player echoing off of the concrete walls. I was in heaven.

I created small pieces, large scale pieces, painted, hammered, gessoed (not sure that's a word but since I went through a gallon bucket of gesso that summer, it's appropriate) and felt like I was finally on the right path to grow into the artist God had created me to be. I believe some aspect of that showed through because the T.A. went from casually observing to becoming more and more interested in what I was doing. She would hang out in the studio after class, offer opinions and help me think more about why I was doing whatever step it was that I was doing at the time. It really was one of the best times of my life because I felt affirmed in my desire to be an artist, felt that the need to create was legitimate regardless of whether it was "practical" or "useful". But? I didn't really see the spiritual side of my desire to create. Actually, I almost felt the opposite.

My feelings during the time I spent in the studio were so strong, to the point of being overwhelming, that I wondered if it was ok as far as my Christianity was concerned. Let's be honest, the arts haven't always been compatible with Christianity. Sometimes it's because bad art gives all artists a bad name. Sometimes it's because art is inspired and therefore powerful and sometimes powerful can translate as dangerous. I think sometimes as Christians we are afraid to feel anything powerfully unless we feel it in church (or on a retreat, or small group or whatever.) And for a Christian to feel something so strong about something that is not blatently Christian? Can seem like we're somehow betraying God or our beliefs.

"And as I listen to the silence, I learn that my feelings about art and my feelings about the Creator of the Universe are inseparable. To try to talk about art and about Christianity is for me one and the same thing, and it means attempting to share the meaning of my life, what gives it, for me, its tragedy and its glory."

For L'Engle, finding "cosmos in chaos" is basically what determines "Christian" art from "Non-Christian" art. If you can look at a piece of artwork, read a book, sing a song that, while not necessarily being blatantly Christian, makes you see some sort of divine meaning – cosmos, creation, life – in the chaos of a fallen world? Then it is good art. And it is Christian art. Because life, cosmos, creation? Are God. Obviously the painting or song or book isn't God incarnate. But they reflect the characteristics of God. If you view artwork, sing songs, read books with this idea in mind, it's very freeing. Who are we to say that God is limited to working through the people we deem to be "Christian"? God works through everything. **Note: am I saying that all non-Christians who do "good art" are going to heaven? No. I'm not talking about the people. And I don't know so I'm not getting into it. It's not the point.

Back when I was nine or ten, I read "A Wrinkle in Time" and was enthralled. When Meg, Charles Wallace and Calvin travel to other galaxies and encounter stars singing praises to God? Not hymns or churchy songs but wild, unadulterated praise to their Creator? It was a picture of Christianity I hadn't seen before. The core of those stories is that the universe is God's creation and all things in it worship Him just by being. It was amazingly powerful and yet not preachy. I read all four of the books in that series and still re-read them as an adult. So when I stumbled upon "Walking on Water" and heard that it was an "artistic book" (and that wasn't said in a very nice way, I have to add) I bought it the first chance I had.

Madeleine L'Engle is a gifted writer. But my love for this book really has nothing to do with her other than she is the one person who heard God's call and put this down in writing. What she's saying isn't new. But I think a lot of it has been forgotten over time. Whether it's technology, our culture, who knows. I don't know that I care at the moment. But to find some of my own doubts and confusion addressed so eloquently – and always with the main focus being God and our role as artists, writers, whatever in respect to Him as our Creator – has been life changing for me (cheesy and cliche, I know. But true. ) I've actually felt like my identity as an artist isn't something I have to apologize for anymore. Thank God.

If you're an artist who also is a Christian? Buy this book. If you're an artist and you're not a Christian? Buy it anyway and you'll find out that you might be making art that glorifies God whether you like it or not - Ha!

Morons.

The group is led by Fred Phelps. He and his family have picketed and heckled military families at more than 100 funerals since June. They say the soldiers are fighting for an army that represents a country that accepts homosexuality... He describes himself as an "old-time" gospel preacher who says, "You can't preach the Bible without preaching the hatred of God." - CNN.com (click the quote to read the entire article on CNN.com)

Did you catch that? He's not picketing the funerals of gay soldiers. He's messing with the funerals of any soldier he can. He pickets and heckles people at the funerals because the deceased served the United States military and the U.S. is a country that accepts homosexuality. This group shows up at funerals where there are grieving widows, parents and friends who are torn apart or even children who have lost their parent and whose lives will never be the same again.

I'm angry. I can't believe I just read that someone said "you can't preach the Bible without preaching the hatred of God"?! I'm sorry (Mom, cover your ears... or I guess, close your eyes for a minute and don't read the next line) but what the hell?! The "hatred of God"? That phrase makes me almost physically sick, it's so appalling. It's blasphemous! Jesus didn't go around screaming hatred at people already broken up by sadness of losing family. Dude. I'm pretty sure he didn't whack Mary and Martha with a picket sign after Lazarus died.

Maybe this guy is trying to say that God "hates" sin? Possible. But even so, the picketing is stupid and this pastor may be giving some people the only picture of Christianity they may ever see before they decide they want nothing to do with it. He has family of his own that he's teaching that hatred is ok as long as you do it in the name of God. He needs to shut up.

To anyone reading this that is not a Believer? This is not us. This is not what God is about. AND THIS IS NOT WHAT CHRIST DIED FOR.

P.S. If you're picketing funerals of soldiers because they serve the U.S.? Why aren't you picketing your mailman when he stops by? Or the cops in your own town (let them deal with you.)

Funny stuff.

This? Makes me laugh and snort tea into my sinuses:

http://www.thingsmyboyfriendsays.com/

Enjoy!

Comment O' the Week

So yesterday? Liam is sitting there and randomly declares, "Mom? Colin, Patrick and me? We're African-American!" (Colin and Patrick are in his class. And no, he does not go to an all-Irish school.) Now, to get the full impact of this statement, you have to remember that not only is Liam not African-American? He's the palest white boy I know. He's like almost glow-in-the-dark white in the winter time. It's sad.

Anyway? Way to go, Prince George's County schools! Apparently Black History Month was a huge hit. Liam was very sad to hear that he is not, in any way, African-American. But he "still thinks Martin Luther King was a really good man", which really, isn't that the point when it comes down to it?

Note: Back before Christmas, Liam was crushed to find out that he is not an Israelite. Like, crying crushed. Because, "Mom, the Israelites are the Children of God! I'm one of God's children!" It's hard to be a basic white boy in a very diverse and interesting area such as ours (We did, by the way, work out the "God's child" vs. "Children of God" thing. He's cool with it now.)

Olympic fun.

So I've been MIA. We went to Cincinnati the week before last. Then I spent last week trying to simultaneously do laundry, shop for birthday presents for Liam and picking up supplies for 24 goodie bags for his class. And last Saturday? We went to the Washington Home and Garden Show for the sole purpose of seeing Clive Pearse and Lisa LaPorta from HGTV. Kind of weird (I've never gone out of my way to see anyone famous before) but interesting. And they were both very nice people. And Clive's adorable with his British accent and cheeky sense of humor (see how I snuck in the British thing there? Yeah, I'm clever like that.)

But really? The one single thing that has held my attention and had me staying up glued to the TV during otherwise precious sleep time? The Olympics. We are crazy for the Olympics. We recorded quite a bit of the games to watch later each night and were able to zoom through the not-so-interesting parts (including 99% of the opening and closing ceremonies.) Honestly? I'm not really much of a figure-skating kind of girl. Most of the skaters annoyed me. Except the Japanese woman who won. Because? She was all kinds of graceful and non-falling like. And she didn't dress up her arm like a swan (yeah, that's a jab at you, Johnny Weir.)

The big events here in the Sapper household? Luge. Bobsled. Downhill skiing. Snowboarding. Speed skating. We're equal opportunity cheerleaders, too. Of course, if the U.S. wins we're all excited. But really? If there was a great contest, and the person that won was just amazing? We're just as happy. To see the 19 year-old Dutch girl win the speed skate with the amazing time no one was expecting? Awesome. Watching Ben Raich from Austria win on the skis made in part from wood cut on his family's farm? Really cool. But please, let me make sure you understand that seeing Shaun White from right here in the U.S. kill in his snowboard finals? That rocked!

So here, for the joy of anyone who didn't watch the Olympics but feels strangely unfilled and strongly desires to see what they missed, is my "End O' the Games" summary:

Opening ceremonies were slow. But then the performers formed this giant ski-jumper complete with frosty bursts of breath and went through the whole process of the ski-jump. Cool from the arial shot. Otherwise? Weird mix of random music (what does "Video Killed the Radio Star" have to do with winter sports or international competition?), Ferraris, flaming skaters and waltzing people danced in cow print. Those kooky Italians. Also? Bob Costas, nice as he seems, just cannot be quiet for any length of time. And he apparently has a thing for Kim Carnes.

Next, we move on to the events. Lots of really impressive displays of sportsmanship: Joey Cheek donating all of his medal money to charity (did you know they win money for each medal? I didn't. Until Bob Costas told me.) Or the Norwegian cross-country skier that fell and was in last place but his teammates rushed to the front of the pack to slow everyone down so the guy could catch up. And the rest of the pack having the grace to allow it and realize that beating a champion isn't fun if that's the only way you can beat him. There was also the coach from one ski team giving a skier from another country a new pole after hers cracked when she wouldn't have otherwise been able to go on. To that poor U.S. speed skater who lost her grandfather to a fatal heart attack the night before her race - in Torino, where her whole family had traveled to see her Olympic debut? No one would have thought worse of you if you had decided not to skate. But seeing you try, crying quietly as you got on the ice without making a scene or demanding to be the center of attention was just heartbreaking and yet strangely encouraging. Same goes for Kildow (the U.S. skier who tore herself up in a bad fall and competed in all of her races anyway) as well as the French skier who fell and continued to compete with her face taped up. All of those people, and I'm sure tons more whose stories didn't make it on TV, are the real reason why Rusty and I are so enthralled with the Olympics. The competition is amazing and it's just taken to a new level when the athlete's realize that they are not there for themselves but for the betterment of their sport as pure sport and to show the world what each of their countries is capable of.

Now. Having said that? Speed skating boys? Stop being babies. You each had valid reasons to be upset with each other in the beginning. But? Get. Over. It. You totally stole the spotlight from the Italian skater who should have been, by all rights, the center of attention seeing as how he won and all. In his home country. Which was hosting your sorry butts.

And Bode Miller? I whole-heartedly agree with your commercial that says that kids shouldn't quit sports just because they may never be "the best." Otherwise? Dude. Spending 11 minutes to inspect the course (when the other skiers spend an hour?) to not only not win, but not even really show up and give your best? Dude, seriously. Go back to your RV and think about what you've done, young man.

And skier girls who wore tiger ears and tiaras down the course? What the crap?! Yeah, it's "cute". But these are the Olympics. Austria? Germany? Pretty much everyone else (including much of the U.S. and totally kick ass skier Picaboo Street) think you are totally not understanding what the Olympics are all about. Wieners. Lindsey Kildow was injured badly and still skied better than you in at least two races because she was all about the skiing.

Then? There are the multiple male figure skaters that said that they didn't spend all their time training because they "had lives" and other stuff to do like partying and whatnot. Um... dudes? Most world-class athletes do spend pretty much all their time training. I mean, they're allowed to eat and go potty and sleep and such. But their training is what they do. This attitude, though, probably explains why you wiped out in various parts of your events. Just sayin.

Ok, well, let's move on to something a little more fun. Olympic nicknames. Oh yeah. Good, bad or just plain annoying you have to admit the nicknames are kinda of fun. "The Flying Tomato". "The Speeding White Sausage" (ha HA ha ha ha ha ha... love that one - that's him on the right) "The Blitz from Pitz" (skier Bennie Raich.) It's cool to see the human side of majorly accomplished athletes.

Another fun thing? The Dutch speed skating fans. The people in orange. Holy. Crap. They are insane. They bring their own band. And the band's trip to each Olympics is funded by the Dutch Olympic Committee. They dance. They dress in odd costumes. They pretty much cheer for anyone who turns in an amazing skating performance regardless of nationality because they just love the sport. I told Rusty I had no idea the Dutch were so much fun (his reply: "smoking pot is legal over there, you know. That's why they're nuts.") P.S. The Dutch flag is red, white and blue. We were confused by the orange. Rusty said every one of their sports teams wears orange, even their national soccer team. Turns out the Dutch royal family is of the "House of Orange". Ahhhhh. Olympics = very educational. And funny (...pot smoking skating maniacs.)

And no Olympic talk can be complete without mentioning the amazing play-by-play offered by figure skating legend (apparently) Dick Button. Like I said, we're not into figure skating. But Rusty and I were totally glued to the TV waiting to see what kind of comment Dick would make next. It all started when he commented one of the pairs with "that's the ugliest position I've ever seen" and it all went downhill from there. The man is one of the most blunt - and therefore most hysterical - announcers we've ever heard. At one point, Rusty said that if Dick Button were a drinking game and you had to take a drink every time he made an outstanding comment? We'd have gone through a bottle of wine before the first commercial. We heart Dick Button.

Ok, well, that about does it. Yeah, I watched the closing ceremonies in fast forward. Lots of singing (why was Ricky Martin there?) And yay for the Canadians hosting the next Winter Games. Liked their snowman logo guy. Even stopped long enough to watch the guy being blown around by the giant wind tunnel fan thing. But aside from that and seeing a few of the interviews with the athletes (you go with your bad zen self, Apolo Anton Ohno) the only other highlight was hearing Bob Costas go off on the Harvard Dean of Admissions by name for not admitting Joey Cheek last year. Good one, Bob.

More riveting blogginess later.