Me & My Roth

In the last two weeks, I feel like I've really become a grown-up. I thought I'd feel like a grown-up when I got married, but I've even reached an all new level: I opened a Roth IRA. That's right, an Individual Retirement Account. I've heard about this whole retirement from a few of my overly-ambitious friends, and apparently it's a good idea to start early. Well, I'm trying. So I put in an initial deposit two weeks ago, and it's revolutionized my life. Alright, that might be a little dramatic, but I am slightly obsessed. Just ask Joy.

You see, with the internet, I can literally follow the stock moment every moment of every day. This morning I slept in until 9, and Joy is on spring break so she was able to sleep in too. As soon as I got out of bed, my first words unfortunately weren't "I love you, dear" or "Wow, your breath just gets better even if you haven't brushed." They were: "Oh, I wonder how the stock market started off today." She understandably rolled her eyes and said, "Please say this is only a stage."

The retirement date of my Roth is 2045. That's right, it's in there for the next 38 years, which is just about incomprehensible at this point. Surely there shall be many ups and downs, but I love watching that little graph go in all sorts of directions. I know basically nothing about the stock market, but I'm very excited for what the future holds. Not because I'll actually make any money (at this point, I have no doubt that people are losing at any given moment the entire amount I have invested), but because I have a new hobby. Perhaps this new intrigue will wear off, but for now, I am just thankful it's the weekend and I can rest again until Monday morning and the stock market opens again!

Poopy Leaper

Well, Joy and I did our second Sunday in the Leapers room. This time, there were plenty of helpers besides Joy and myelf, but this time, there was poop involved. Joy did the first one, and then, when there was about five minutes before the parents came to rescue the children/rescue us, I smelled another one. And it smelled bad. I lifted the little tike up and walked over to Joy. She smelled the youngster and declared that if it looked anything like it smelled, we were in big trouble. I asked if she was going to change it, and she stated that the parents would be here in two minutes. I protested. Sure, we may know that he just pooped a minute ago, but his parents may think we let him stay in a dirty diaper for the last hour. Joy said I was going to have to do it. I rolled up my sleeves, put on some rubber gloves, and began the process. This was a whole new experience for me, and there was one moment when I thought vomit was also gonna be all over this child. Joy helped a lot (and laughed a lot), and then she even told the kid's dad that it was my first time changing a poopy diaper. If they are all as bad as this one was, I think I might have to get out of the Leapers room and into the Climbers. They may be more rowdy, but at least they know how to use a toilet.

Honking Ads

I have a new pet-peeve: it's when there are radio commercials that involve car honking. Twice yesterday, while stuck in traffic and fearing that this was the day my car would officially die (I think the end is near), there were two different radio ads which both involved honking. And yes, each time I assumed: 1) I was cutting someone off, 2) someone was about to hit me, 3) I had lost my rear bumper a few blocks back and was dragging the muffler as well. If car dealerships want to sell cars, that's fine, if they want to fix my car, that's even better, but why oh why must honking be a part of the ad when people are driving?! Yeah, I wasn't happy, and I'm sure I looked foolish too. Hey, at least the muffler is still in its place.

Leapers!

Joy and I have been trying to get more involved at our church this year. We want to meet some people, hopefully make some friends, and do some serving. Sounds good, right? So last week was our first Sunday of helping out in the children's ministry. We are helping out with the 1 1/2 to 2 year olds, called the Leapers. (Yes, all the age-groups are named on some type of bodily movement: Leapers, Climbers, Jumpers. Thank goodness we didn't sign up for the Poopers!) Anyway, we went through the process of filling out the application and on our first Sunday, we went and had our pictures taken for our IDs and found our way to our room. The lights were off and the door closed. Hmm, we thought, perhaps we're just really early. We did a lap around the church, and came back. Still no lights, still no open door. After two more laps, we decided we probably looked silly walking around the church like we were some of those way-too-early-in-the-morning mall walkers, and ventured into the room on our own.

A few minutes later, one of the children's ministry team leaders came in to introduce herself to us. We thought surely another adult would be coming in the room with us, so Joy tentatively asked if any other adults would be in the room. The lady, bless her heart for handling all of these dear children, simply said, "No" as if she wasn't the least concerned that Joy and I had no idea what we were doing. I should rephrase that: Joy clearly knows what she's doing. I'm a naive disaster when it comes to those leaping crazy beings that are called toddlers.

The church is apparently high-tech and high-security, and parents swipe cards in the entrace area of the children's ministry, and then a little sheet prints in our room to let us know the child's on its way. Well, we started off fine, just one slip, sign the kid in, and then a second slip, sign the girl in. Then madness began. I swear, the next ten minutes were pure bedlam. Slips were flying out of the machine. Babies were bawling and parents weren't doing much better. Diaper bags were everywhere. I was probably crying too. When it all settled down and I realized what had happened, Joy and I looked around and realized we were alone with 17 children. That's right...17. I think it was actually 19, but 2 must have escaped. Oh well.

I've sat through some long sermons in my day. I've slept in church, doodled, read Bible passages that weren't relevant to the message, looked at the harmonies in the hymnbook. No service seemed as long as this one where I was with these children. Now, there were moments of pure pleasure and glee, frolic and fun, but there were also moments of tears (both me and the children), grabbing kids from climbing over the door holding them in, checking to see if kids were peeing (thankfully, Joy did the diaper changing), and trying to get the kids to stop using the black crayons directly on the nice wooden table. Of course, it was a communion Sunday, so the service went long. I think "Communion To Go" should be an option for parents. Okay, maybe not, but if the pastor doesn't end on time, they risk having a whole lot of parents upset because the workers simply gave up and took the children into the bapistry for some added fun.

Congrats to Dungy & Co.

I gotta say it: the Colts deserved to win the Super Bowl. I can't say I'm really all that disappointed. I moved to the Chicago area about 1 1/2 years ago, so it's not like I'm that deeply committed to Chicago athletics. And it is also true that I grew fond of the Colts while in college in Indiana. Dungy came to chapel a few times, and there were several avid Colts fans, Drew leading them all. (Ironically, this is the one year where Drew, Colts season-ticket holder, is in China for a year, probably wondering right now what exactly he was thinking when he signed up.) The Big Game has to be some type of American pastime, right up there with 7th inning stretches and apple pie, Broadway and jazz. As I sat shoving my face with chips and dip, I thought how splendid it all is. Over the top, way too much money, and often anti-climactic, there's just something about getting a group of people to surround a television in hopes of watching a good game.

Joy and I spent the weekend in Champaign visiting Blom and Kelly. I rooted hard for the Bears, pledging my current physical allegiance. Blom also told me I couldn't watch the game with him if I wasn't rooting for the Bears. We had a good time, complete with chest-bumping, but the Bears simply failed to do much. In all honesty, I'm surprised the Colts didn't have a more decisive lead going into the final quarter. I suppose if another team besides the Bears had to win, I'm glad it was the Colts. And no matter what you think, Drew, I think it's great you went to China for the year. Did you find a T.V. at five in the morning?

Joy to the Kitchen

Wow, it's been a long time since I've been here. I am pleased to announce that my semester is officially over. It was a whirlwind, but all is done and there is a calm after the storm. The papers are done, the practicum is done, and my Christmas shopping is actually all done too! Hopefully I'm feeling this good when grades come in in a few weeks, but I think everything will be alright.

Today is actually my One Year Anniversary! Without getting too sentimental or saccharine, I can say that this year has really been just the greatest. I positively love being married. People told us a variety of things about what to expect for the first year, some saying that it would be great and others saying that it would be a hard transition. Joy and I both agree that our transition has been pretty simple and really, quite enjoyable. I think what I like the most is that it's just so much stinkin fun. We laugh all the time, usually at ourselves and each other. For our anniversary, we're going out for lunch with Joy's family today and then we're gonna make dinner together (with meat from the HBB: Horner's Butcher Block!), open a bottle of champagne, and watch our wedding video. On Tuesday, we're celebrating our anniversary by going into Chicago to go ice skating, go out to dinner, and go the opera. Romeo e Juliette by Gounod at the Chicago Lyric. It will be great. We're staying downtown and then plan on spending some time in the city shopping and stuff on Wednesday. We're pretty excited. Perhaps I'll get back to my blog a little more often and put up some pics from the week sometime soon.

Well, the point of this post was to let you know that Joy and I met a celebrity cook last night: Rachael Ray. In our first months of marriage, Joy and I quickly discovered the Foot Network and attached on like leeches to blood. We cooked, we wrote down recipes, and we even began planning for our own cooking shows. We've got some good ideas going. So Joy immediately loved Rachael Ray, and actually, became a master of some of her 30-minute meals. My wife is a dang good cook, largely thanks to Rachael, bless her. When I heard on the radio of Friday afternoon that Rachael was going to be doing a signing at a nearby Barnes and Noble the next day, you better believe I called Joy immediately and our Saturday night plans changed.

We arrived at the B&N at about 5:30; Rachael was scheduled from 6-8. There were already hundreds of people standing around in a line on both levels of the store. We got in line and got our number: 257. They stopped giving out numbers at 300, but we got ours. Once you had a number, though, you could leave and then come back, so Joy and I watched Rachael come out to her masses and then we went to do some shopping. We jumped back in line an hour or so later and only had to wait about 20 minutes before we were able to meet Ms. Ray. Well, you may remember my disaster when meeting Ms. Renee Fleming, but I was much more cool about meeting Rachael. Joy, on the other hand, was not. At one point, she was shaking and jumping and when I grabbed her hands to get her to calm down, they were sopping wet and sickingly fish-like. I laughed and laughed.

Rachael herself was perfectly pleasant, laughing and chatting with the peeps. I was hoping she would comment on my Williams & Sonoma bag (with my pasta roller since Joy and I are working on making our own raviolis!), but she didn't. We did get a picture, which is quite good. We left in a frenzy and Joy smiled as if she had just run in to her long-lost best friend (which is how she often describes her relationship, or lack there-of, with Rachael Ray). As we left the Barnes & Noble, we opened the book she had signed, and there it was; Rachael had signed "Joy to the Kitchen." Joy smiled even bigger. Perhaps I'll tell you someday about the time I met Ryan Seacrest.

Rachael Ray and the Beckers