haub.net 4.0

I've preached twice in the last three weeks. This is not normal for me. In fact, it's downright terrifying. But it's also a little exciting. When I get deep into the Bible (which I do--with desperation--when I preach, because except for an excellent class on the Gospel of John I took when I was a freshman in college, I have no formal theology training) I always come out of the experience enriched.

Those of you who aren't Christians, trust me on this one (and all of you Christians who don't read your Bibles, you too). Spend a little time in there meeting all of the flawed people who aren't much different than you or me.

And if you're lucky, you'll be surprised by the character of Jesus. He surprises me at every turn, and it's His example, His character, His sacrifice, and His deep love that bring me back to my faith, even when I'm ready to walk away. I don't think that's a bad thing. I think it's right that I'm a Christian because of Christ, and Him alone.

pink, originally uploaded by varohaub.

It has been raining an incredible amount this summer, which is a nice change from last year, when it didn't rain much at all. We need it.

There's a little patch of grass in our front yard that has been brown for a good while. For all intents and purposes, it was dead. But a week of monsoon-like rains has come and gone, and the patch is almost completely restored. You wouldn't know where the spot was unless I pointed it out to you.

So I finally broke down and downloaded the sampler of the first Twilight book, just to see what all the fuss is about.

So far, I'm not terribly impressed by the writing, though I have been enjoying that the book is set in the PacNW, and that the character has spent the first 10 pages or so complaining about all of the things I love about my distant but still beloved home. I imagine, though, that if I bought the whole book and read it cover-to-cover, I'd discover that Stephenie Meyer is a hell of a storyteller. That's got to be true on some level, or the book wouldn't have grown into such a huge phenomenon.

The truth is, in the first several pages, the writing isn't impressing me, but it's not turning me off, either. It's not perfect, but it doesn't have to be. It's possible to be a great storyteller and an average writer. Actually, that's the point I'm trying to make: work hard on telling great stories first. Beautifully crafted, sparkling writing without a good story is constructed decoration.

In other book news, I've read all five books from the Temeraire series twice in the last month and a half, and I enjoyed them as much the second time as I did the first. Naomi Novik is both a great storyteller and an exemplary writer. It's kind of a weird mix of fantasy and historical (revisionist) fiction. A bit geeked out, for sure (which is definitely a plus, from my perspective) but absolutely delightful.

The first book is called His Majesty's Dragon, and as an added bonus, you can download free copies of it for the Kindle (iPhone app or device) or for any other e-reader you use. You can also get your hands on a free PDF of the whole book, but that's a bit more difficult to wrangle.

Be warned, however, that this is incredibly shrewd marketing, akin to a drug dealer giving you the first hit for free. You'll likely end up buying the other four books in rapid succession.

Enjoy!

Okay, so a very simple question, asked to the very few folks who may still look in on this space once in a while. What, exactly, do I need to do to start spitting out some fiction? I need techniques, challenges, inspiration, ideas, encouragement--even nasty, hard truth.

Zoe is really into finding things recently. Somewhere along the way she picked up the phrase, "you found it!" which she uses for all sorts of things. If she asks for a glass of water and it takes me a minute to get it to her, she'll say, "you found it!" when I get it to her. She uses it when she finds toys, or when we're looking for Amy at the grocery store. It's adorable.

Another of Zoe's favorite things these days is recognizing emergency vehicles when we are out driving. This is probably because they are so distinct from the rest of the cars and trucks on the road. (She also loves "bid tucks," which she also names by color: "Da. Dada. Da. Da. Da. Bid Tuck. Red bid tuck.")

She also knows them by sound. Once in a while, when she's hanging out with her mom, she'll say "a-ance" (ambulance) because she hears the siren. Amy, who has a hard time hearing low pitches, especially at distance, often cannot hear them at first, though they usually come in range quickly. Or she stops what she's doing and listens, and she hears the siren.

Today she said it, and Amy (as usual) didn't hear anything. But she listened hard, and still didn't hear anything. "I don't hear anything, Zoe," she said.

About 10 minutes later, both of them heard a siren, and Zoe looked up at Amy and said, "you found it!"

Zoe works on her animals from varohaub on Vimeo.

I'm reading Getting Things Done again, hoping to myself silently that this time around I'll get the system up and running and keep to my guns long enough to reap the benefits of an "organized life." (Whatever that means.)

It's not that I don't believe in GTD—really, I think it's the best organizational system in the world. I've had more than a few sips of that Kool-Aid, but like everything else in my life, believing is one thing and performing is another.

One of the things that is both wonderful and difficult about being the stay-at-home-in-the-morning father of an 18 month-old baby is the kind of "thinking time" you get.

Here's what I mean: hanging out with Zoe isn't like brain surgery. There are no complicated problems to figure out, no serious problems to solve. All of that comes later, I think. For now, we say, "look!" to each other a lot, and roll around on the floor laughing, and carry toys from one room to the next. There's a lot of space in my brain for thinking during these times, though when she's awake, I try to be present as much as possible. Every day is new and wondrous.

But when she goes down for her nap, I have to spring into action. Dishes need to be washed, the animals need food, I have to grab a shower, lunches need to be packed, etc. Again, none of this is like doing calculus, or solving a complicated strategic problem. It's all busy work that just has to get done NOW.

So I tend to play games with myself while I'm doing the dishes or picking up toys. I make up problems—usually ones that grow out of some kind of day-to-day experience I'm having, but not always—and I try to solve them. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm that kind of geek.

The one I did most recently kept me up into the night and required some work in a spreadsheet program, but I solved it. For the pleasure of geeks everywhere, I present it to you now:

The Scenario
You are buying groceries one evening with your family. While checking out, sirens and lights go off everywhere and balloons drop out of the ceiling. The manager of the store comes running out to you and says, "you may have won 1 million dollars!"

Excited?

He brings you over to the customer service counter, where they've set up a green felt gaming board. You see a stack of red dice on the board.

Here's what the manager tells you:

We're going to roll these dice once to see if you've actually won 1 million dollars. Here's the deal: you decide whether you want to roll 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, or 7 dice. When you've decided on the number of dice to roll, I'm going to grab the same number of dice for myself.

We'll roll our dice at the same time, we'll count up all of the numbers from each of the dice, and whoever has the higher number wins.

But to make it a bit more interesting, and because you are a valued customer, I'm going to give you a tiny advantage: I'll give you a win if we tie.

Go ahead and grab the number of dice you want to roll, and let's see if you walk out of this store a millionaire! Remember, you can choose to roll 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 or 7 dice.

The Question
Here's what I want to know from you: What number of dice gives you the highest probability of winning?

All seven possibilities are better than 50%, simply because a tie goes to you, as the attacker. But I want to know how much better than 50% each of the seven possibilities is.

Everyone will have an intuitive answer, but that's not what I want. Give me the intuition, but I also want to know what the percentage chance is to win for each of the seven scenarios. I'll need to see your work, too. Tell me how you got there.

The Spoils
I don't expect a lot of people to play this game, but post the right answer in the comments first, and you could win something geeky. Maybe a t-shirt, probably a gadget. You'll have to play to find out. But you have to be a complete dork (like me) to want to solve this problem at all, so I know that it doesn't matter what you win. Getting the right answer will be the best reward of all.

Anyone out there know where I can get my hands on a duffle coat just like this one? It's navy with white rope loops, light wooden toggles, and a red-lined hood. You all recognize the movie, right?

I've been looking everywhere, and no luck. Help!

Dearest Zoe,

It's July, and you've been walking for over a month now. You've been toddling around the house like the little person you are. Also, all of that walking has taken the baby fat right off of your bones. You keep on getting bigger, but you're getting thinner, too. With the genes you inherited from your mom and dad, you'll probably be thin as a rail for the first 30 years of your life. That was hard to imagine even two months ago because you were such a cute little roll of baby fat, but these days you're starting to look like you are your parents' daughter.

Last night when I got home from work, you came bobbling over to me and grabbed me around my neck. Once in a while (this is the second time) you just can't get enough of Daddy, which I think is just about the best thing that ever happened. If I put you down, you followed me around with your arms in the air, moaning like a baby elephant until I picked you up again. I spent a good part of the evening trying to do my part as a member of the Varo-Haub household while holding you with one arm.

For the last several weeks, it seems like you learn a new word every day. You've been calling your socks "sschhccs" for about three weeks now. Every animal in the world is a "tat" (and to be fair, the two largest animals in your house are cats, so you're right a good percentage of the time). The other day you said something that sounded like "pants" when I was changing you and then you laughed your little head off.

Today you started calling Bella, "bellabellabellabella." You chased her around the house for at least an hour doing that. I can't tell you how cute it is.

Your mom really likes letting you feed yourself. I feel very good about this idea in principle, but in reality, you make the biggest, craziest messes. The animals pace below your high chair, waiting for the detrius of the dinner experience, fighting over the scraps that seem to fly in all directions at once.

Fortunately, you get a bath every night, where you love use your little plastic watering can. You dunk it until the bubbles stop, then holding it tightly around the spout like it's a baseball bat, you lift it up in the air and giggle while the water pours directly out of the holes in the bottom of the spout.

You're starting to climb up on top of things, which is scary but also wonderful. It just means that we follow you everywhere you go in the house.

You are precious, and don't ever forget how much we love you, mi querida Zoe.