It’s called Flight Control. You can download it on either iPhone or Nintendo DSi. And it’s awesome. My current high is 58.

True to chain letter form, Lindsey emailed me the following “friend survey” today. With exception to nos. 23 and 41, her responses made me proud to call her my wife—especially with Valentine’s around the corner. They also make me look chivalrous, which is always a good thing.

Warning: some of her answers are a little sappy. But this is my blog—not yours. You can get lost if you have a problem with that! (more…)

I’m not the kind of person to relate my past dreams to others. In fact, I never do. They’re usually boring, meaningless, and nonsensical—merely the brain recalling past memories or feelings as it tries to get some shut eye. So I only share the following dream because it’s pathetic and telling:

Since my two-year old drinks milk like nobody’s business, I go to the grocer to buy some more. Unsure if we have any remaining at home, I purchase four gallons. Upon my return, I notice there was a full gallon discreetly placed in the fridge door. Gasp! I’m now sitting on five gallons of milk and freakin’ out. “What are we going to do with five gallons!?” I ask my wife. “How are we going to drink all this milk before it expires!!??”

That’s the dream. My worst nightmare: too much milk. Doubting reality, I drank an extra tall glass of the good stuff this morning just to be sure.

OREM, Utah — After four convenient but usually bad-habit forming years, I canceled my Blackberry email/data plan with T-Mobile last week. To my surprise, I was amazed that my email would actually wait for me on the computer, as opposed to following me around wherever I went. Now, if I’m away from my desk, my email will tell me how many unread messages I have upon my return, so as not to overlook anything. (Some fancy email programs even support audible alerts, such as “You’ve got mail!” Really neat stuff.)

In a flurry of discovery, and in search of more answers, I asked a representative of ARPANET, the inventor of email, for comment. “The great thing about email is that it’s free, provided you don’t give money to your cell phone provider for the same service,” the spokesman said. “And unlike the Post Office, you don’t have to put a hold on your mail if you’re away, say on nights and weekends. If it fits, it ships—which is all the time.”

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Prior to graduating in 2004, I played drums in a trio band. We mostly played Killers, Interpol, Franz Ferdinand, and Led Zeppelin covers in our bassist’s basement. We maybe played once a week for a month or so and didn’t even have a proper name. But we still wanted to rock.

Anxious to play a live set, we caught wind of an “Acoustic Battle of the Bands” to be played at BYU’s 22,000 seat capacity Marriott Center. I remember thinking, “Who says we can’t rock that? It says ‘acoustic,’ not low energy or slow tempo.” So we traded our electric guitar for an acoustic/electric and proceeded to tryouts that were being held in some small theater room in the English building.

Upon arrival, we were clearly out of place. As we lugged our full drum kit, half stack bass rig, and guitar amp down the hall, dozens of Dave Mathew wannabes practiced three chord love songs in squeaky voices to admiring girlfriends. My opinion of humanity worsened a little that day. But I digress. Our name was called, we entered the room and setup stage.

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I heard Rudy Ruettiger speak this month as a guest at a neighboring university. Not only does he have a great story, he’s a great motivational speaker. Admittedly, I went because I love his movie—the greatest sports film ever made. But I stayed for his choice commentary on life, guts, and optimism. These are the nine ideas that most inspired me: (more…)

Five years ago, I could concentrate on a single deadline for a solid 4-6 hours per session without breaking. Nowadays its feels like my attention span has dropped to 2-3 hours on average, sometimes minutes! Some observations at to why: (more…)

I had a bit of a senior moment this morning. While crossing over a contoured section of the sidewalk, I tripped over my toes, lunged forward, and overturned the jogging stroller. I landed in someone’s flower bed. The girls landed in the gutter—on their heads!

Moments before, a lady in her forties was approaching us. Being the gentleman that I am, I crossed onto the street to let her pass. I don’t know about other runners, but it takes my legs a good five minutes to warm in the morning. So at the time of the accident, I was dragging my feet a little. Hence, the stumble when crossing back over to the sidewalk.

Outside of insecurity and one hurt ego, everybody was fine. But I’ll be using that wrist strap religiously froim now on, so as not to send the girls rolling into the road the next time I trip.