I need your help…

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Hey all,

 

Can you please do me a favor and read through this article I wrote about Grace?

 

I’m happy with the content, but have gotten nothing but rejection letters in the (almost) year that I’ve been pitching it.

 

I’ve come to the conclusion that the article is good, but the title sucks…in which case the first three paragraphs probably suck as well (as they are only there to support the title.)

 

Soooo…if you could please give it a read though and then come up with a new title (or two, or three…) the one I like best will win a prize!

 

Thanks!

 

-Gracie’s Daddy

 

 

The Argument for Creationism

by Perry P. Perkins

 

Often, as a young Christian man without a family, I would spend hours arguing the rationale of creationism. This is because I had a deep understanding of God’s plan for mankind, and a thirst to share that knowledge…or possibly because I didn’t have a girlfriend.

 

I would quote the latest scientific literature, delve deeply into the relevant scriptures and historical references, sprinkling it all with a healthy measure of my own sense of self-importance, and my disdain at the thought of my forefathers swinging by their tails (their necks maybe…but not their tails.)

 

If only I had known that instead of spending all those hours reading and studying to form an argument for creationism…I could have just had a child.

 

Having now, as a stay-at-home father, spent countless hours in exhaustive research (by which I mean the ten minutes immediately preceding the writing of this article, once Jeopardy was over) I have discovered that there is no way that the human race could have  possibly survived the natural selection process.

 

This is because all of us (with the possible exception of H. Ross Perot) started out as babies, and babies, from the moment they awake are preoccupied with only two thoughts:

 

  1. How can I get that (toy, food, chainsaw, etc) into my hand/mouth/nose/or any additional orifice?
  2. Once I have that in my hand (etc, etc), how can I kill myself with it.

 

Seriously, I’m fairly certain that my daughter spends a third of each day gauging the possible effects of plunging everything around her into her eyes. Another third is spent measuring each object she finds (including the dog) to see if she can lodge it in her throat.  And finally, the last third is spent in detailed analysis of just what household object would create the longest fall to the floor, giving extra points for subsequent bounces.

 

I’m convinced that these reflections are for the sole purpose of bursting into tears, screaming as loudly as possible, and basically making her parents wonder what kind of a benevolent God would allow morons like us to have a child.

 

For some examples of how this understanding negates any chance of an evolutionary process, let’s go back a million-billion years (or whatever carbon-dating says this week) and take a look at our supposed forebears…

 

Scenario 1:

  1. Caveman and Cavewoman learn to create fire.
  2. Caveman and Cavewoman have (according to popular fiction writers) some VERY explicit sex…thereby creating Cavebaby.
  3. Cavebaby immediately flings itself into the fire.
  4. Caveman and Cavewoman choose to domesticate the dog instead of having more children.

 

Scenario 2:

  1. Cavemen learn to hunt in groups, thereby providing more substantial protein sources to feed their family-clans through the winter.
  2. Caveman learns to use tools and create the means to carry these enormous carcasses back to their caves.
  3. Cavebaby immediately chokes to death in an attempt to swallow a whole mastodon…which it probably found under the couch.

 

Scenario 3:

  1. Caveman and Cavewoman learn to build shelters to better follow the migrating herds that provide their food.
  2. Caveman, after putting cavebaby down for a nap, kicks back to watch Jeopardy.
  3. Cavebaby, as yet unable to sit up or crawl, seizes the opportunity, and manages to climb the near-vertical sides of the tee-pee, and immediately flings itself to the frozen tundra, then rolls into the fire…while choking on a mastodon.

 

These may lead you to think…

 

“Hey, those cavemen looked a lot like H. Ross Perot!”

                                                     

But no, what it should lead you to think is that there is no way that ancient cave dwellers, who didn’t even have the benefit of a gazillion-dollar “Babies-R-Us” industry to make sure that their unscented, chemical-free baby-wipes were kept at an optimal temperature, could have possibly raised an infant to an age that it could survive on it’s own.

(Currently age 37 ½, but may have been younger back then…)

 

Here’s my own, brief, scenario of what actually happened…

 

Adam & Eve: “Hey, we just ate from the tree of knowledge! Now we know everything that God knows! We can handle any situation that arises with wisdom and understanding!”

God: Oh yeah? *Poof*

Adam & Eve: “Hey…what’s that?”

God: “You can call him Cain.”

 

Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to run. My daughter is on the roof again, and she may be choking on the dog.

 

Thank god that the mastodons are extinct!

xxx

Of Wonks and Men

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(or “Getting over myself.”)

 

 

So, I had to make a run to the post office today.

 

I waited until after Gracie’s nap and lunch, then packed her up and drove ‘cross town. As is typical, there were a dozen people in line and one employee behind the counter.

 

I held Grace, bouncing her and talking quietly, hoping that her patience would last.

 

Alas, it was not to be so, and soon enough boredom overtook her and she began to fuss.

 

Without really thinking about I started singing to her, again very softly, as that often keeps her happy. The song that came to mind first was a silly version of Ernie’s “Rubber Ducky” song that we’ve personalized to “Silly Pickle…”

 

“Silly Pickle, you’re the one,

  You make our lives lots of fun!

  Silly Pickle, we’re especially fond of you…”

 

Again, I wasn’t really thinking about it too much, it’s just something I do out of habit (or maybe, self-preservation) but then, suddenly, I felt like I was being watched. I turned slightly to see a younger guy near the end of the line, eyeing me with obvious disdain.

 

You know…that “what a wonk” look that only a gothed-out twenty-year old can really master.  

 

You know what I did?

 

…I stopped singing.

 

I didn’t even think about it, I just mentally agreed with the kid that I must look like the world’s biggest wonk, standing in the post office singing the rubber ducky song. So, I stopped singing and Gracie’s smile began to fade as she started to fuss once more.

 

Suddenly, I realized what had just happened.

 

First of all…I didn’t know this kid from Adam, and he didn’t know me. What the heck did I care what some barely-legal grunge band wanna-be thought about me? It’s not like I was ever going to see this kid again, and even if I did, so what?

 

Secondly, and on a purely selfish level, how could this twerp’s approval (which I probably couldn’t have gotten regardless,) POSSIBLY compare to the joy I get from seeing my daughter smile?

 

So, I had to say to myself, “Self…get over yourself!”

And…I started singing again, albeit just a bit louder for the kids benefit. I may have even thrown in a dance step or two.

 

When I looked up, the kid was gone.

 

Either he’d gotten tired of waiting in line, or he feared that my overwhelming uncoolness might be catching. Either way, who cares? Gracie was happily bouncing away in my arms, a big smile plastered to her face, and that was all the approval I needed.

 

Besides, he looked like a wonk anyway.

 

-Gracie’s Daddy

 

Gracie Article in New Man Magazine

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Hey all,

 

Just wanted to let you know that New Man Magazine recently published a “Gracie Inspired” article of mine.

 

Check it out if you get a chance, and lemme know what you think:

http://www.newmanmag.com/e-magazine/121008/story6.php

 

Blessings!

 

-Gracie’s Daddy

Curtains for Her Window

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 “Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7 (NIV)

I was given an interesting “a-ha” moment this morning. Gracie’s play yard is situated next to our sliding glass door, and there’s been a running battle at our house over control of the curtains. She’s fascinated by them and has occasionally pulled them off their tracks while playing with them.

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5 Things Mommy Wished Daddy Knew

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I recently posted a question on my other blog…

“Moms, what one thing do you wish that Dad knew, that would make your life easier?”

I was amazed at the results…nearly a hundred moms replied by post and email! Even more surprising was the lack of diversity in their answers. Seems like most mom’s have a pretty short list of things they wished daddy knew, and the top five are almost always the same…

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Are Moms Really That Angry?

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“There are three kinds of lies:  lies, damned lies, and statistics.”  ~Mark Twain

 

Recently, Parenting.com created an online uproar with an article titled, “Mad at Dad,”  written by Seattle parenting author Martha Brockenbrough 

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Quik N’ Easies

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kip

 

 

Hey all,

 

Okay, just a quick post today but, oddly enough, that’s appropriate…

 

Gracie woke up early this afternoon and “suggested” that is was lunchtime before I had anticipated, and before I had planned what to feed her.

 

One of our favorite meals around the ol’ TeamPerk clubhouse is quesadillas, or “quik n’ easies” as we call them, with a variety of fillings (depending on what leftovers are starting to get suspicious.)

 

Today’s lunch was:

 

“Sloppy Joe Quik N’ Easies”

1 whole wheat tortilla

2 Tbs shredded cheddar cheese

2 Tbs Sloppy Joe/ground beef mix (leftover from dinner)

 

Spread the meat mixture on ½ of the tortilla, sprinkle with cheese, fold and nuke 20 seconds on high. Dice into 3/4 inch cubes (the pizza cutter worked great!) and serve.

 

Added a handful of green beans, and a handful of fruit cocktail (in pear juice) and lunch was complete…total time…about 1 minute!

 

So…when this happens again (probably tomorrow) what “Quick N’ Easy” recipes have YOU perfected?

 

List ‘em below!

 

-Gracie’s Daddy

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