Lunch Detention

I found myself in the principal’s office this morning. Sitting across the desk in my University of Utah hoodie, I explained how my son had been bullied by another student this past week.

At least I think he’d been bullied. My son is in first grade, and he loves to tell stories about how he’s been wronged on the playground. My job as his father is to believe his version of the story. One day he had scratches on his face. The next day his lip was swollen and bloodied.

And then yesterday he ran to the car after school to tell his mom he’d been placed on lunch detention. I have no idea what lunch detention is, but it sounds as serious as a heart attack.

So I made an appointment to speak with the principal.

Had this been my first child, I would have acted rationally and notified the police, called an attorney and notified the local news station. But this is my fourth child, and I wouldn’t have been able to muster the energy to meet with the principal without a Diet Coke because I stayed up too late watching Seinfeld reruns.

I explained to the principal what my son had told me. He listened. He then asked a few questions before telling me his plan to solve the issue. I told him how much my four oldest children enjoy attending his school. We shook hands, and I returned home.

One benefit of having children at a later age is that I feel more prepared for these situations. Sure, I want to make sure my son isn’t injured at recess. But I don’t pretend to have all the details of what happened on the playground last week. My son can be agitating at times. OK, much of the time. It’s very possible he’s as much to blame as the other boy.

Before my son went to school this morning, Kim sat next to him and asked, “Can you think of something nice to say to this boy? Maybe he just needs a friend.”

I like that approach. We all need a friend.

Mormonthink Responds to Plural Marriage Essay

Mormonthink released a response to the LDS church’s essay titled “Plural Marriage in Kirtland and Nauvoo”, and it’s well worth reading if you’re interested in the early history of the mormon church.

The details about Helen Mar Kimball are especially tragic.

“Joseph told Heber (Helen’s father) he needed to surrender his wife to Joseph in marriage. Then, after 3 days of agonizing over this, Heber led his wife to Joseph only to be told by Joseph that it was just some sort of Abrahamic test. Then Joseph asked for Heber’s only daughter Helen to take as a plural wife.”

Helen was 14 years old at the time. Joseph Smith was 37 years old and had already taken 25 wives. Smith promised Helen that, if she would be his wife, her family would receive eternal salvation. I was taught that I was responsible for my own salvation.

As a father whose daughter is a few months from turning 14, this makes me sick to my stomach. It’s impossible for me to understand anyone who believes Smith was acting under some twisted directive from god. This is Warren Jeffs territory.

Learning to Wet Shave

I purchased my first Braun electric razor in 1987 while I was living in Germany. Up until that time I shaved using cheap disposable razors. That’s what I watched my father use, and I figured I’d continue the tradition of blue Gillette razors and gooey aerosol shaving cream.

My father told me I’d eventually want to move to an electric razor because it would be easier to navigate the numerous chin scars with a blade behind an aluminum foil. I found his words to be true after plunking down about $200 for the nifty Braun gadget. Without prepping my face with any oils, lotions or creams, the Braun glided over my face removing the day’s stubble in less than three minutes. No mess. No cleanup. I couldn’t imagine ever going back to a razor of any kind.

And then last year I came across an article from Lex Friedman titled,  The Wet Shave.

I was curious, but it all seemed a bit overwhelming. There was a list of required items to purchase and learn to use. I had upgraded to a third generation Braun unit, but wasn’t happy with the closeness of the shave it delivered, even when I frequently swapped out a new blade and foil. So a couple of months ago, I decided to give wet shaving a try. I began to add an item here or there to my Amazon shopping cart until I had what I needed.

I’ve waited a couple of months to write up my thoughts on wet shaving because, frankly, it’s an ongoing learning process. It reminds me of skiing where the first few times totally suck because you fall down so often you’re constantly cold and wet. I would have given up wet shaving after the first few times had I not read from others that using a safety razor comes with a learning curve.

After the first week of wet shaving, I wondered if I could return everything to Amazon.

After the second week, I was bleeding a bit less after each shave.

But the third week, I was determined to master the art of wet shaving after Kim mentioned how smooth my face felt.

I’m still a long way from mastering the wet shave if that’s even possible. I haven’t yet packed up or sold my Braun, but I haven’t used it in over two months either.

Here is the process and products that are working well for me today. They may also work well for you, but don’t assume that’s the case. Experiment and figure out what works well for you. I shave right after I get out of the shower while my skin is still a bit damp and relaxed.

I rinse my face with warm water before I do anything. While my face is wet, I take a shaving brush and run it under the warm water. I give the brush two shakes and then swirl it around William Mug Shaving Soap in a shaving bowl.  You don’t need a lot of soap.  As for the shaving brush, I’ve tried a few, and prefer the ones with synthetic bristles. You can drop a lot of money here on badger, boar, or horse hair brushes, but the Parker synthetic is just about perfect.

I then swirl the brush with soap around my face until it’s evenly covered. The goal here is to lift the stubble making it easier for the blade to reach and cut. I do this to one side of my face so the soap doesn’t dry out.

You’re now ready for the razor. I really like the Merkur Long Handled Safety Razor because it feels sturdy and stable in my hands. Unlike plastic disposable razors, the Merkur doesn’t require much pressure at all. The weight of the Merkur provides just the right about of pressure against your face to remove the stubble. Press too hard, and you’ll be donating some skin to the sink. I shave one half of my face at a time, and I start with my sideburns before moving to my chin, neck and upper lip areas.

You will need to keep a number of blades on hand. The number of blade options is absurd, but I prefer the Personna Double Edge Razor blades after trying a few brands. I swap out a new blade after every five shaves, but your mileage may vary.

Only shave where you’ve lathered. The quickest way to cut yourself is to run the razor over a dry area of skin. If you miss an area, lather your face before going back to your razor. I use the Williams Mug Shaving soap on the first two passes. It lathers well and is cheap, but it’s unscented and far from indulgent. One reason to wet shave is to pamper your skin, so on the third and final pass, I use a more expensive shaving cream from Taylor of Old Bond Street. I love the grapefruit scent and the rich cream feels wonderful. Like the soap, you only need a small dab of cream to lather your entire face.

Once I’m finished with the razor, I rinse it off and place it back in this stand from Perfecto. It holds both my brush and razor.

While my face is still wet, I run this alum block over my face. It acts as an astringent and closes any razor nicks I inflicted upon my face. It stings a bit and acts as a reminder that running a blade over bare skin is not something to be taken lightly.

I let my face air dry before applying an aftershave lotion. I have never used lotions on my face because I can’t stand the feel of any oily substance on my face. But I’ve found two aftershave lotions I really like. The Neutrogena Post Shave Lotion doesn’t leave my face feeling oily and is affordable.

If you really want to pamper yourself, grab the Aveda aftershave. Kim bought me some of this for Christmas, and I have no idea how she expects me to go back to anything else.

I’m still learning how to best take care of my skin, but I love the close shave that only a real blade can provide. It takes some patience to learn how to maneuver the blade around my face without gouging my skin. I’m learning to ease up on the pressure of the razor as to not nick it up more than it already is around my chin area.

The biggest downside to wet shaving is that it takes now takes me about 10 to 12 minutes to shave compared to 2-3 minutes with my Braun. But I’ve found this is also one of the benefits of wet shaving that I enjoy the most. Shaving used to be as exciting as brushing my teeth. Now I look forward to the days I shave because it slows down my morning and gives me time to indulge my skin.

I find the whole process relaxing and a great way to begin my day.  It might be time to box up the Braun.

The Path of Least Resistance

I stood at the Qdoba register fumbling for my loyalty card when I realized I’d given up. Life has become a sea of suckage, and I’m tired of swimming in it.

Remember when, to pay for a meal, you handed cash or a credit card to your friendly cashier? The transaction took less than 20 seconds. You give me food in exchange for money. But loyalty cards add an extra layer of negotiation.  Am I paying more because I’m not as loyal? Are there some amazing benefits the card affords me? I don’t know. But I long for days of the simple transaction.

No, “Do you have a Qboda card?”

No fumbling for a card I wouldn’t recognize if it were front and center in my wallet.

No admitting I can’t find the card only to have the cashier hand me another one I will surely lose. I mean, if I can’t manage one card, do you think I’m ready for twins?

So I’m done with loyalty cards, along with a host of other activities and absurdities I no longer have the patience for.

See, I’m raising five children. Well, my spouse is raising five children, and I’m just along for the ride meaning 20 hours a week I act as their delivery driver. I drive them to school. I pick them up from parties, recitals, practice and a whole mess of other activities I only vaguely understand.

The only requirement is that the address exists on Google Maps. I will deliver my kids to a party in the middle of the Nevada desert as long as I can find it on Google Maps. But if I can’t find an address three blocks away, no dice, kid. You’re staying home with mom and dad and watching Shark Tank reruns.

A few months ago I announced that I’m done buying DVDs to which my kids collectively asked, “What are those?” If the movie isn’t available on Apple TV, it doesn’t exist to me. Even if the case of Disney DVDs is fifteen feet away from the couch, I can’t be bothered to get my butt off the cushion to retrieve it. If I see a movie or TV program I want on the Apple TV, I press a button on the remote and it’s magically delivered. No more searching the house for that Home Alone DVD I’ve bought four times.

I’ve been suckered into buying too many DVDs that end up being used as Frisbees around the house. Even if I do manage to locate one without a scratch that’s less than 2-inches deep, I can’t muster the patience to deal with the Xbox.

The Xbox is a blood sucking money demon that picks its owners up by the ankles and shakes them down for every last cent. When all I want to do is play a DVD, the Xbox tells me it needs to perform a system freaking update. Then I pray it recognizes the Wi-Fi adapter. Oh but wait, my Xbox Live Gold account has lapsed and it’s holding everything I own hostage until I cough up $59. Can’t remember your Xbox Live password? Go to hell without collecting $200.

Microsoft is like your annoying older brother that gives you wet willies at church just because he can.  I’m beginning to despise any product that requires a Microsoft account of any kind. Microsoft account, Windows account, Xbox account….I can’t keep them straight. You win, Microsoft.

I’m done with buying music CDs as well. If I can’t find it on Spotify, it doesn’t exist. Sorry, Taylor Swift, you died the day you pulled your music from Spotify. Yep, it’s miserable and magical.

I don’t know what I’d do without Amazon Prime.

This week I bought 18 boxes of Kleenex on my phone. Every month Amazon delivers two cases of toilet paper to my home. Yesterday I needed some saddle soap so whipped out my phone and bought it.  The more mundane the item, the more I appreciate being able to buy it at Amazon. Best find in a while? This Microfiber Extender Duster.

I used to maintain a shopping list. The Amazon app on my iPhone is now my shopping list. If I can’t find it at Amazon, I don’t need it.  I don’t care if I could find a lower price because they don’t have my credentials and I’m not about to retrieve my wallet from my 2-year son as he drags it around the house. Amazon knows my name, address and has my credit card on file. Imagine a future where I can walk around my house and say, “Amazon, send me a 48-pack of AAA batteries” and they show up two days later.

Wait, what? It already exists?

Amazon has made it too easy for me not to use them. It’s like Amazon has built an app and connected it to my brain and bank account. Simple and quick is where it’s at.  Any company or product that drains my energy or requires too much effort gets tossed to the wayside.

Maybe when my kids leave the house I’ll consider expanding my shopping options. But for now, I’m all about taking the path of least resistance.

Anyone want a couple Qdoba cards?

Haircuts

A friend from grade school shared with me that he had asked to be released from a time-consuming church calling to spend more time with his children.

Another friend lamented how his son had recently left for college, and he wished they had spent more time together.

My 6-year old son approached me after school, and asked if I’d play a computer game with him. What we do together matters little. He’ll throw a semi-flat football with me in the house until I tire out.

“Sure, I’ll play with you. Just give me a few minutes to finish my work.”

Just a few minutes turned in to a couple of hours. I got up from my desk and went looking for my son. I found him in his bed, fast asleep still wearing jeans and shoes.

It won’t be long till my son is throwing a football with friends. And then he’ll be off to college and I’ll be lucky to see him every few weeks, if sticks close to home. I could say the same thing about any of my five children.

Last weekend I needed a haircut and coaxed my two oldest sons to join me. Neither of them ever want to have their hair cut. “One more week,” they beg.

After each of us had a hair cut, we went next door to Subway, which is one of their favorite places to eat because they get to select each item that makes up their sandwich. My oldest son orders a simple turkey sandwich with lettuce. My 7-year old son orders a little of everything, including bacon and extra sauces that don’t sound like they would work together.

I tell myself that days like this make up for those where I postpone time together because I’m too busy.

Controlling God

I used to believe that I could control God.

I know that sounds odd. It feels strange to write it out and read it, but it’s the truth.

From a young age I was taught that god was watching my every move. Not only was he watching what I did and said, but he could read my thoughts. Based on that information, god would divvy out rewards based on how closely they matched his rule book.

His rule book consisted of what I was taught at church and included a lot of “don’ts”.

Don’t date till you’re 16.

Don’t think impure thoughts.

Don’t drink coffee, tea or alcohol.

Don’t have sex till you’re married.

Don’t watch rated R movies.

Don’t go shopping on Sunday.

Don’t be gay.

The list of don’ts was exhausting. But if I stayed away from these and hundreds more, I’d be blessed. Or punished if I decided to ignore them.

While serving a mission in Germany, I was transferred to a new area. We didn’t  have a single investigator to teach, so we went door-to-door eight hours a day searching for anyone who would listen to our message. When the mission president asked me how many people we were teaching I told him we were not teaching anyone. He said, “That’s because you aren’t worthy. When you’re worthy, the Lord will send you someone to teach.”

On the train ride home, I thought about what rules I could be breaking that would cause god to punish me. I eventually settled on one rule I broke a few times each week: opening mail and reading it. My mission president thought reading letters from home was a distraction so he created a  rule that stated we could only read letters on Monday, our preparation day.

What became clear to me was this: If anything good happened to me it was because god was pleased with something I did. When something bad happened to me, it was my fault. I was being punished because I broke a rule.

From Mormon scripture called Doctrine and Covenants 130: 20-21:

There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicate. And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated.

Not just some blessings. No, “any” blessing.

The scripture was repeated time and time again. My takeaway: I could control god.

My senior year in high school, I hit a half-court shot to win a basketball game. For years I attributed the success of that shot to the fact I said a prayer before the game. I ignored the hours of preparation I had spent in the gym since I was a young boy. I ignore the coaching and conditioning I had received. I ignored the fact I spent many hours shooting shots from all over the court, including many from half-court. I ignored all that. Had I not said the prayer, god would nudged the ball off target.

When I hear people say that god helped them find their car keys, score a touchdown, lose weight or other trivial activity, I wonder if those same people believe god is simultaneously punishing those who forgot to pray? Why did god decide to help you locate your car keys but allowed the young girl down the street to be abused by her neighbor? This sounds like a god with screwed up priorities. And let’s be honest, it’s selfish to think god cares about every trivial part of your day.

I’m still coming to terms with what it means to live my life without the fear of a god peering over my shoulder ready to reward or punish my every move. I’m a little upset with myself that it’s taken so many years for me to figure this out, but I’m happy I did because many never do.

Tactile Joy

From Scott Adams review of the iPhone 6

My heart was racing as I removed the phone from its strikingly well-designed packaging. Apple makes the process of opening a box feel as if you are winning a prize. Every color, shape, texture and probably smell has been studied and tweaked to perfection. Simply touching the product or its associated packaging is a tactile joy.

A textbook example of sweating the details.