From The Old Testament Made Easy (Jeanne Steig), the following poem:

A Romance

Jacob fancied Cousin Rachel,
Uncle Laban’s comely child.
Seven years he toiled to earn her,
While her glances drove him wild.

When at last his bride was bedded,
Jacob drew the veil to kiss her.
Under it was Cousin Leah,
Rachel’s older, squint-eyed sister.

“Be not so distraught,” said Laban.
“Though at first she looks alarming,
Leah’s fun. I’ll throw in Rachel—
All for seven years of farming!

“Only seven more, dear nephew,
For the pair. You find that shocking?
Rachel will divert you nicely,
Leah darns a dandy stocking.

“Take the two. And take their handmaids—
This, I think, is rather lavish—
Saucy Bilhah, nubile Zilpah.
Both of them are yours to ravish!”

Leah bore him seven children,
Zilpah had a couple more.
Rachel and her handmaid, Bilhah,
Managed yet another four.

One of Leah’s was a daughter.
Sons made up the other dozen.
All twelve tribes of Israel sprang from
Jacob’s craving for his cousin.

(h/t Fosteronomo)

Sure, it's sounds like fun. But do I actually do it?

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.
          -- Deuteronomy 6:4-9 (ESV)

My parents came to visit; I took the week off of work; my parents went. It felt good to sleep in a few of those days. It also felt a slight bit o’ good not to go to work when I knew everyone else had to.

One thing, among many, that I miss by not being at work is the perk of listening to music. If I am fortunate enough to have a block of uninterrupted time where I can just do my thing, music is usually playing through my headphones.

Because you're dying to know, here are my top 10 favorite bands/artists, as determined by how much of each band's/artist's music is ripped to my harddrive:

• Vigilantes of Love / Bill Mallonee : 19.5 hours of music (13 hrs as VoL, 6.5 as non-VoL Bill)
• The 77s / Mike Roe : 18 hours (13 hrs as 77s, 5 as non-77s Mike)
• Over the Rhine : 12 hrs, 16 min (11 hrs as OtR, 1:16 as Linford Detweiler)
• The Choir : 10hr 50min
• Phil Keaggy : 8hr 24min
• Iona : 6hr 26min
• Lost Dogs : 5hr 54min
• Afro-Celtic Sound System / Afrocelts : 5hr 38min
• Havalina : 5hr 03min
• Sixpence None the Richer : 4hr 58min

The funny part (funny, interesting; not funny, ha ha) is that most of these bands/artists are not in my regular music rotation anymore. Some music is more appropriate for different times of life, I suppose. And although I was once a completist for a number of these bands, I know full well that my library is missing at least one album from each artist's catalog. I'll make you a list of missing CDs if you need Christmas ideas.

In terms of overall musical enjoyment, my favorite from this list is Over the Rhine. They rock and/or roll every time.

Artists/albums not making this list that I must mention, just because I said so: Steve Taylor, Brooks Williams, Claire Holley, 25 Paste Magazine samplers.

I have a lot on my mind.

I should be paying bills. Some of them are late. I hate being late.

I should be wooing a woman. Some of them are awesome. I love making them laugh.

I should be eating better. Some of my recent dinners are crap. It’s like I’m making my own Super Size Me movie, but without the video camera and the fame.

I should be solidifying old friendships. I should be spending more time in prayer. I should memorize poetry. I should finish the laundry. I should be helping the poor. I should ride my bicycle. I should work late. I should blog more. I should this, and I should that.

Tonight I add one more: I should perform karaoke.

I met a friend after he got off of work at at a local establishment that, unbeknownst to both of us, was holding its weekly karaoke night.

Chip loves karaoke. Jimbo, not so much. He’s a performer; I’m a, um... not. Usually. Especially when it comes to singing.

Chip (stage name “Chucky D”) went wild (it was a slow night) and sang 3 times (Johnny Cash, The Bee Gees, America). He even won a drawing for a $20 gift certificate. I drank an adult beverage and flipped through the song title booklet, hoping no one would lay on the you-should-sing-it’s-a-lot-of-fun-everyone-is-doing-it guilt trip. (Boy, am I out of it. There are a ton of pop songs I don’t know.)

I didn’t sing this night, but maybe next time. I think I’d rather sing my own songs, if I ever were to write them. Oh, and play my own music, if I could learn more than those 4 chords. (Add another "I should": I should practice my guitar.)

Or maybe I should lighten up.

As Chucky D says, “Sometimes life doesn’t always make sense... and that’s why we should do karaoke.”

The folks are in town for a few days, so I’m taking a few days off of work.

It’s a vacation for them, but it’s also a vacation for me. I’ve only taken a day here and there during the summer, and the last time I took a whole week away from work, I spent it, um... working.

We went to a Western Washington Vikings football game on Saturday. Cheap tickets, decent seats, ok football. I’ll be back for sure (they have two more home games in Bellingham this year). It’s the first live football game I’ve attended since seeing the Lions get clobbered by the Seahawks back in 2004. The Vikings got clobbered by the South Dakota Coyotes, so at least that was familiar.

Despite the clouds on Monday, we took a chance at visiting Mount Baker. Artist Point was all clouded in, but we stopped a few other places to try to make up for it:

Groundcover colors are brilliant up there:

Looking over the valley from a picnic area:

Looking down the valley:

My mom remarked about how the water has a green hue:

Random woods picture:

Random Nooksack River picture:

A week-ago Monday, as I was entering a supermarket, a random dude wearing a St. Louis Cardinals cap was walking out. I was wearing my Detroit Tigers cap.

He says to me, "See you in the World Series!"

I say, "Looking forward to it!"

This episode was just after the Tigers defeated the Yankees in 4 games and before they started playing the A’s. St. Louis was playing, um... someone. It was presumptive on Random Dude’s part to confidently declare the World Series participants even before the LCSes began. But at least he was clairvoyant about the Tigers. :)

The Tigers defeated the A’s this weekend in the American League Championship Series to advance to the World Series. The Tigers haven’t been there since 1984; the last time they were in the playoffs was 1987; they haven’t had an above-.500 winning percentage since 1993.

AND NOW THEY’RE IN THE WORLD SERIES

If you need me, I’ll be at the zoo tending to my family. I am now a monkey’s uncle.

My house is a Sunday football house, and I have an open door policy.

You wanna watch football? You come to my house. It’s not the fanciest TV, but it’s about the football, not the gear. It’s football we watch, football we talk about, or a football we throw around in the back yard. Lesser moments of life are allowed but not necessarily encouraged. We may exchange pleasantries as you arrive, but after I point out the chips-and-salsa and give directions to the bathroom, we’re back to our pre-ordained football focus.

Many times, it’s just I and the remote. And this can be fine, especially on the days when all I want to do is spend a rainy autumn afternoon falling into and out of sleep while the football plays on.

Today was no such day.

First of all, it wasn’t raining.

Second of all, it was a full house. Lunch with house guests expanded to include a fellow fantasy football player. Husband-temporarily-without-wife showed up after lunch. Friends-with-cool-parents came towards the end of the first half of the late games to re-energize the place. The 2- and almost-4-year-old kids laughed and had fun and kept everyone on their best and sweetest behaviors.

Folks slowly filed out over time, getting on with their lives. Not everyone came for the football, and that was ok. One hung back while the place went silent, and we played guitars. (I should play my guitar more, seeing as how I love it so much when I’m playing. But that’s another post.)

I had a couple invites for other goings-on in the evening, but I was bushed. I was just all people-ed out. I guess I’m one of those that needs a little time away from the crowds.

And this is a perfect segue to today’s required reading: Caring for your Inner Introvert by Jonathan Rauch of The Atlantic online. Read it. Know me.

And then when you come to my house for football, and you think I may have gone missing midway through the third quarter, you’ll know why. But don’t worry, I’ll be back. If there’s one thing stronger than my periodic need to find a quiet room, it’s my desire to see the end of the game.

Did anyone else witness the can of whoop-buttocks that the Tigers opened up on the Yankees last night? How sweet was that?

And a cool thing ESPN did, I thought: they invited Ernie Harwell to join the announcers for a few innings. Harwell left after the third inning, but it was great. They let him reminisce a little about past Tigers teams (playoffs in 1987, 1984, 1972, 1968), and then he starts mentioning very specific stats about a particular Tiger team from 1921 or some such date. Good times.

Let me laud the benefits of Paste Magazine ("Signs of Life in Music, Film, & Culture"):

• 20+ track sampler music CD in every issue. Every sampler is like the best 80 minutes of radio you’ve ever heard, and you’re guaranteed not to know all the musicians on the disc. I have 24 of the 25 samplers on my harddrive at work (#4 came shattered), and I use them like my own private radio station.
• A DVD every other issue (at least that was the pattern... we’ll see with the next one) that includes music videos and short films.
• It’s now published monthly. Paste started in 2002 as a quarterly magazine.
• Lots of reviews of music, books, and movies that are all the rage with the kids these days.

The October 2006 (#25) issue’s cover story is on Zach Braff. Cool, yo. There are also articles on The Decemberists, Bavarian beer, and... did I mention music and books reviews? They got lots. Anyone want to gift me copy of Thirteen Moons?

This issue also delves in to “The 24 Best Hours on Television” in which we find this little gem (and some minor personal vindication) from contributor Reid Davis:

“You’re not supposed to be watching this” is what each week’s feminine-hygiene ad barrage says. So why do I, a red-blooded hetero male, love Gilmore Girls? There’s the snappy, Front Page-worthy dialogue referencing everything from Ava Gardner to XTC. There’s Paste-caliber musical knowledge (Grant-Lee Phillips busking; Sebastian Bach delivering sly self-parody; a cameo from Sonic friggin’ Youth!), and characters you want to simultaneously hug and strangle. (Scrubs’ Turk said it best: “I’m so mad at Lorelai, I can’t even speak right now.”) It has nothing to do with my wife having grown up in a small Connecticut town a half-hour from Hartford. I swear.

Other good shows for which Paste agrees with me:

• House
• Scrubs
• Battlestar Galactica

Minor beefs from the list:

• I never got in to the NBC’s version of The Office. I prefer the original Ricky Gervais version.
• Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip hadn’t even aired when Paste #25 went to print. Sure, important editors of big, fancy magazines may get previews before mere mortals. And Aaron Sorkin does have a pretty good track record. But the blurb strikes me as a bought-and-paid-for NBC advertisement.
  

Let me laud the benefits of Paste Magazine:

• 20+ track sampler music CD in every issue. Every sampler is like the best 80 minutes of radio you’ve ever heard, and you’re guaranteed not to have heard of all of the musicians beforehand.
• A DVD every other issue (at least that was the pattern... we’ll see with the next one) that includes music videos and film shorts.
• It’s now a monthly mag (it started quarterly back in ... then bi-monthly...)
• Lots of reviews of music, books, and movies that are all the rage with kids these days. Anyone want to buy me copy of Thirteen Moons?

The October 2006 (#25) issue’s cover story is on Zach Braff and career and where he’s heading in the near future. And this issue delves in to “The 24 Best Hours on Television” in which we find this little gem and some minor personal vindication from contributor Reid Davis:

“You’re not supposed to be watching this” is what each week’s feminine-hygiene ad barrage says. So why do I, a red-blooded hetero male, love Gilmore Girls? There’s the snappy, Front Page-worthy dialogue referencing everything from Ava Gardner to XTC. There’s Paste-caliber musical knowledge (Grant-Lee Phillips busking; Sebastian Bach delivering sly self-parody; a cameo from Sonic friggin’ Youth!), and characters you want to simultaneously hug and strangle. (Scrubs’ Turk said it best: “I’m so mad at Lorelai, I can’t even speak right now.”) It has nothing to do with my wife having grown up in a small Connecticut town a half-hour from Hartford. I swear.

Other shows for which Paste agrees with me:

• House
• Scrubs
• Battlestar Galactica

Minor beefs from the list:

• I never got in to the NBC’s version of The Office. The British one, though: Wow. Good stuff.
• Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip hadn’t even aired when Paste #25 went to print. Sure, important editors of big, fancy magazines may get previews before mere mortals. But the blurb almost reads like a bought-and-paid-for NBC advertisement.