My company, Saguaro Studios, has just released v1.5 of Oratorio, the presentation package for church music. There are a ton of improvements to this version, making it a much stronger product than the orginal release. We’ve got a maintenance release of Faust’s Friend, a ticker application we inherited from Stimpsoft, close to ready as well. Busy time!

Though I rarely feel like I really get caught up on rest, I’ve also started sleeping pretty lightly since we’ve had kids. A few nights ago, I was sleeping away when I was awakened by a sound that, in my sleep-addled state, I thought was the doorbell. I looked at the bedside clock: 3:00am. I went to investigate, thinking that perhaps there was a friend in dire need or that one of the kids’ toys had sprung spontanously to life.

I went into the front room and noticed Emily sleeping on the couch, which she sometimes likes to do. She was still completely unconscious, though considering that she often sleeps through Maggie’s caterwauling, that didn’t mean much. I peeked out the front door, and saw a burly, shadowy figure lurking on our front porch. He evidently saw me too, as he immediately called out “Police!” in a voice that, in my barely-awake state, sounded as though it was calculated not only to raise the somnolent, but also the deceased.

I turned on the porch light and peeked out the door. (I was, at this point, still wearing only boxer shorts.) “I was passing by and noticed that your car was completely opened up. I wanted to check in and make sure nothing was wrong,” bellowed Officer Lungpower. I muttered something about checking on it, and went to put on some pants.

We met out at the driveway, and looked over the van, which had the hatch and the driver’s door open. Apparently nobody had gotten around to closing it up when we had brought in groceries earlier in the evening, thus setting the stage for the late-night visit. And, in a way, it was comforting to know that the police are alert enough to notice something like this. But, for future reference, if I’ve been robbed during the night, I’d rather not know about it until 8:30am.

Last weekend was my birthday. (March 10, for those of you playing along at home.) Though I’ve been pretty wiped out lately, and didn’t feel up to a large party, we had a couple people over after church for pizza and enchiladas. It was a good time.
Upon hearing me lament the march of years, Lori Hendrick and Anna Larue got me a pile of candy and the Nerf Powerclip, one of the finest Nerf weapons available today. It’s a 10 dart, fully automatic, air powered blaster than can unload all of its ammo in about a second, and is highly recommended for a-bit-over-30 year olds who, though they haven’t hit a midlife crisis yet, feel it starting to loom.

Another favorite gift, this one from Dad McMains and Lana, was a recently released CD of jazz performed on ‘cello and guitar. The ‘cello player is none other than Ken Ishii, my old instructor from high school who has been broadening his musical horizons in recent years. Ken is accomplished both as an instrument builder and a performer, and the disc is great fun.

Kathy gave me two things that were wonderful: a Zoom acoustic guitar processor, and a Raleigh SC30 bicycle. I was a bit dubious about the guitar effects at first, but was quickly won over after plugging it in. “Hey, listen to this! I’m Boston! Hey, now I’m BB King! Now I’m George Harrison! Now I’m Extreme! Now I’m Don Ho! Hahahahaha….” This was a bold gift for Kathy, since she doesn’t know much about guitar gear, and had to consult with Grant, our next-door neighbor and Jedi guitarist.

The bike, however, is probably what I’ve been enjoying the very most. It’s been a couple of decades since I used anything two-wheeled as a serious mode of transportation, and I’ve been having a delightful time scooting around by the river, going out riding with Emily, and pedaling off to a nearby park for some quiet reading time. I brought my friend Kelly, whose parents used to own a bike shop, along for the selection process, and he was very impressed with the quality work Raleigh is doing these days. My posterior is still hardening to the task a bit, but I think this will be a great way to get around town. I already want to buy Kathy one!

A few other notables: some beautiful dress shoes from Chris, which have convinced me that I need to get some of my friends married so I’ll have a good reason to wear them, and Rails Across America, which panders both to my fondness for computer games and for trains, from Mom McMains. Thanks, everyone, for a better-than-expected birthday!

We’ve got a new resident in the house. Emily, after signing the “I promise to take good care of my pet” contract, picked out a rat at the local critter mart. It’s brown and white, quite gentle, still mouse sized, and has gone 16 hours without suffering a fatal mishap — possibly a new record for small animals at our house.

Star Wars Guitars? C’mon, folks. George Lucas has enough money, and you have enough Star Wars junk already.

As promised, here’s the photo of the much-reviled latest revision of bowling shoe fashion. Bask in the flimsy synthetic uppers! Delight in the velcro fasteners, because laces are “too hard!” Admire the traditional racing livery of the Ukranian Peasant Bowling Shoe Manufacturing Team!

In an interesting coincidence, it turns out that this is message #666 on this website, which probably proves that the antichrist will come wearing these bowling shoes. Be on guard.

Rat Race is not a cinematic masterpiece. It doesn’t have any depth of characterization, it has scene after unlikely scene of ridiculous goings-on, it has a cheap, melodramatic happy ending, and it will never be up for an Oscar.

That said, I laughed myself silly watching it. If you’re looking for some escapist comedy-for-comedy’s sake, this is a fine choice. Lots of favorite actors doing the kind of hamming they do best, a funny script, and little sense of taking itself seriously contribute to an enjoyable two hours.

Kathy and I went to the Gaslight Theater again last night to see James Elward’s Best of Friends. The show, which revolves around the relationships within a family spearheaded by a poised, clever woman and her famous philandering husband of 30 years, was one of the best that we’ve caught at this theater. The set was one of the nicest looking we’ve seen, and the ensemble worked together very smoothly, especially for an opening night performance. The play is both very funny and thought-provoking in its dealings with family relationships and the issues of aging. As usual, quite worth a viewing.

I’ve not been doing a good job keeping up with honest-to-goodness family updates of late. I have, however, tossed together another photo album with some recent pictures of the goings-on around our place. You can see them at Photos: February 2002.

I picked up American Movie without really knowing anything about it other than what was on the box. “Sundance Festival Winner? Sounds good to me!” I gave Grant, my neighbor, a call, and convinced him to skip the guitar practice he was supposed to be doing to watch it with me.

After watching the adventures of the hapless Mark Borschardt as he labored with inhuman tenacity to film his project Coven (which centers around an alcoholic who checks into a twelve step program only to find that his group consists of satanists), I was convinced that American Movie was a Spinal Tap-style spoof. I was shocked to discover a few days later than Mark is a real person, and that Coven has actually been released.

In spite of all the obstacles that obstruct Mark’s slightly-demented vision as he’s putting his film together, he gamely keeps at it. The result is alternately funny, sad, and actually pretty touching at times. The people around Mark obviously don’t understand his vision, but they love him and support his efforts.

A wonderful postscript to this movie is available on zero tv, where you can follow the further adventures of Mark and his sidekick Mike as they start filling orders for Coven, enlisting the aid of some passing Mormons to package the movie. Amazing, zany, stuff, from the heart of America.