I was recently asked what I would like to have engraved on my headstone. I came up with a few answers - some funny, others serious. Later, I realized that it was not the question I would have asked. A headstone speaks to anyone around. It is meant to convey a brief message to friends and strangers alike. Rather, I spent time consider what I hope people (who know me) say about me when I'm gone. I could type some here, but I'd rather just let the question linger a bit. It says a lot about priorities and values. I'm not sure if my answers are "right". I'm pretty sure they'll get better with time. I do hope I live a life that gives others something good to say when it's done. Part of that sentiment is certainly selfish - I want to leave a good legacy, but part of it is purposeful.

If my life can convey the joy of my purpose and experience, then I will have reflected the face of my Father, and that will echo in eternity. I'm uncovering pieces of that, and it's very cool. I want El to always have a sense of purpose - no teenage angst - no wandering twenty-something. Too much of life (even a good life) is spent in denial of purpose. We search as if there is some Truth which has not been made plain as the sun in the sky or the grass in the lawn. We're never satisfied that the reality we need to grasp is right under our feet and in our hands and on the faces we see. We look for more because we want to believe that it can't be that simple. It is that simple. It's so simple that it contains all of existence. Every star in the sky and every grain of sand on the beach. All of it screams the thing we need to hear. "I love you." It's that simple.

No news is good news. I never have trouble writing when things are crashing around me, but I never seem to have anything to say during the other 99% of life when things are actually pretty good. Well, dammit, things are good, and I'm glad...so there.

When oh when will the real exercise in a bottle be invented? It's 2006!!! I want my pill. I don't mean the one where the lady condescendingly asks what could possibly make a diet pill worth $129 a bottle (the answer is, of course, not the CRAP you're selling which isn't worth $129 a crate...unless you're into that kind of thing), I mean the one that actually replicates the effects of exercise at the cellular level. Really, some people like to get out and breathe fresh air and get their heart pumping, and I have no problem with them. I, on the other hand, like to eat, think, and fly airplanes - all of which leaves my heart rate somewhere between stampeding sloth and large flat stone at the bottom of a river. Where is my pill?

Oh, and poker, I like that too. Again, not an aerobic activity. I haven't played in a while, and I doubt it's in the near future. I miss it, but not like an amputated limb or anything. I just enjoy the challenge of trying to outthink someone. And, yes, you can play for free, but the vast majority of people who play for free aren't thinking at all. That makes it very frustrating when you lose. I don't mind losing money to someone who flat out beats me, but it's a waste of time to play a table full of people when half of them move all in on the first hand (because one of them will end up with a huge stack of chips and make life miserable for the rest of us).

Politics. Tom Delay is resigning. I honestly had to think for a minute to recall whether he was a republicrat or a democan. Can anybody argue that there's a difference anymore? Fiscal conservatism - nah.

Cynthia McKinney hit a cop. Of course it's ok because he's racist. Hitting racists is practically mandatory. (Note: there's no actual evidence that the guy's a racist, but Rep. McKinney is black so any white person she hits had it coming)

What a random post.