Scary Moment

In an odd anti deja vu, I had a dream the night before last about being in a shooting. I actually had the same dream back to back. I woke up after the dream, went back to sleap, and had the same dream over again with slightly different details.

Last night at work, I got into a short pursuit that ended in a driver of a stolen vehicle running the car into a ditch and bailing out. We ran and ran and ran, probably a quartet mile before it was all said and done. Toward the end of the foor chase, I reached down do feel my gun and didn't feel a gun there. I looked down. No gun. no holster either. My entire holster was missing, somewhere between me and my car in one of the most dangerous parts of the city.

We found the gun andthe bottom half of the holster right next to my car. It's a sinking feeling to realize that you ran that far in a high crime drug area with no gun. Incidentally, I found out that the brand of holster I was issued has just been recalled because "there is a small rick of failure." Imagine that.

Here's what it looks like:

Recent Home Improvements

Here are some pics of what we've been doing to our house. What you are about to see is about $800 worth of stuff and lots of work. Thankfully, we got lots of gift cards for Christmas, so other people money softened the blow to us.


Here is the dining room. As you can see by the drop clothes and pait buckets in the photo, this was just done. Im fact, at the time of this post, the paint has yet to dry.


Here is the biggest portion of the money we've put into the house. That's new tile on the floor, new paint on the wall and in the back, a new stove. The kitchen is small but now it's sweeeeeet.



Ah. This was actually done a long time ago, but since I never posted pics, this is the new color in the living room. I love thje way the stairwell pops with this new paint.

There it is kids. In case any of you rent and are considering buying, please remember; it's just just the grand we've sunk into making the house look good (we're no where near done) it's also the money to fix the AC and the dishwasher and the plumbing in the bathroom and the sewer line in the back yard and the front door and the toilet seats...

Bye for now. I got some more honey-do's ahead of me.

The Frog in the Wig

I tried to update my profile and got a new question for it. The question was "The children are waiting. Tell the story about the frog in the wig." It wouldn't take my answer because it was more than 150 characters long, so here is my story about the frog in the wig:

The bald frog with the wig was about to finally score with the princess, which would have turned him into a handsome prince. Just at the moment in which the princess was at the breaking point of ecstasy, the frog's powdered wig fell off. It slid over his face and onto the floor. At that moment, she realized that he was not a distinguished member of the House of Commons, as he had told her, but only an ordinary frog. She ran away and he remains a frog today.

The End

I Won't Forget the Men Who Died

I was going through a shelf on my book case today, considering what I should keep and what I should get rid of as I am running out of shelf space. I came across the portfolio book that I had to make as part of my Senior Capstone Project. As most of you know, that project was to direct "All My Sons," which I did in early 2002.

I chose the play in the Spring of 2001 and was already heavy into the dramaturgy when September 11th happened. By the play was performed, our nation's involvement in Afganistan was still fresh and we had not yet gone into Iraq. At the time, I had no idea how relevant the issues raised in my play would become.

I read the program from the play today and thought about how much I learned about the character of our nation by directing the play. Yet, as I read the director's notes, I realize how much more the sacrifice of our young men means to me now that we, as a society, are seeing the sacrifices for real. I have decided to publish the Director's Note on the back of the All My Sons Program here with the admonishment to remember what you have and what it has meant for you to have it.

"Finally the Word Came-Let's go- and there we were in combat, something new in my life. But, oh, What an experience...pulled myself together and tried to locate my outfit...But, what was left of them, just a handful, about 26 out of 160."
-PFC Dom Bart
-From War Letters
-Ed. by Andrew Caroll

When I began working on "All My Sons," I had no idea how much this powerful script would change me. The power behind "All My Sons" is that it begins as a common story. It is the story of any family in the mid to late nineteen forties. As Joe says, "That's what a war does. It changed all the tallies. I had two sons, now I got one." But unlike other families, this one has something to hide. No other script that I have ever worked with addresses so clearly and successfully the anguish of death, the ecstacy of love and the terror of a past that will not fade. No other script presents so skillfully the impact of that Great War on the individual family that was changed by it. Hundreds of thousands of men gave life and limb to secure the freedom of people thousands of miles away. we hope that this production will move each audience member to, as Chris says, "bring that to Earth again, as some kind of monument," and it will remind people that, "when you drive that new car, you've got to know that it came out of the love a man can have for a man. You've got to be a little better because of that."

January 2002.