Yet another one of those disjointed posts that you find so endearing...
The thing about running an organization is that people expect you to do stuff. I miss the corporate job.
I don't talk much about my work here, which is probably best -- don't want to embarrass any of my hard-working, dedicated colleagues. Suffice to say that having just come out of my first 90 days as president bruised but still alive, and heading now into a big board meeting, with a wife at home about to give birth (I knew her "date night" idea would only lead to trouble), I've been a bit busy.
I'm having a blast. I've never been busier, but man, is this fun. Budgets, more opportunities than money, learning the idiosyncrasies of my team and their teams, watching them respond to challenges (no small part of which are stupid questions from their new boss) -- it's great work if you can get it.
But enough about me. Let's talk about you. Have you missed me?
Back to me. Some of you who have had the embarrassing misfortune of accompanying me to Starbucks, where in the past I invariably ordered hot chocolate, will be thrilled to know that I've come over to the dark side.
Actually, it's the lots-of-cream-and-sugar side, because I can still barely stand the taste of the stuff. But this caffeine thing -- this is a bandwagon I can jump on with both weary feet.
That's right. I'm a coffee-drinker now. I spent my college years learning to drink beer, because the senior who bought booze for us wouldn't stoop to purchasing wine coolers. My smarter friends, the ones now going bald working in law firms, all learned to drink coffee instead. I am a slow learner.
My wife has misgivings. Something about coffee breath. I think my burgeoning chewing gum addiction should cancel that out. Plus without the 10,000 daily calories from a daily cup of hot chocolate, I'm now in position to lose another 10 pounds. I'm not sure where it will come from, as I believe at this point I've already worked my rear end off. Perhaps from my fat head, if the opinion of the woman beside me this morning in a Porsche is accurate.
Word of advice, honey: I may just drive a Honda, but if you're going to take my lane you'll need to redline that thing -- I don't have to leave second until I hit 60.
Okay, seriously, enough about me. I know why most of you come here -- because of what I have to tell you about the three sweeties in the picture to the left (and now you see why my kids are so good-looking -- boy, did my wife trade down when she started dating me).
Because of the wife's bed rest we haven't made the 30-minute drive to church in a couple of weeks. Feeling some accountability to God, however, we have had a little Bible-reading and prayer time instead. Basically this amounts to me reading and embellishing some of the cool butt-kicking stories in the Bible, which Caleb digs. He'll get a kick in a few years when he learns that it's acceptable to say that Samson beat down the Philistines with the jawbone of an ass, as opposed to a donkey.
Anyway, last Sunday I asked everyone what they are thankful for, and whom they want to pray for. Caleb said, "Mickey Mouse for being so helpful, Nana, and my little brother who's about to pop out."
The wife followed with, "My family and my mom, and that my boys will be safe this week coming and going."
Then it was Nana's (my exceptional mother-in-law) turn. "I'm thankful for . . ." she began. Then Caleb jumped in with: "Your doggies and Stephen Caleb."