amidst a sea of incoherancy

Long story about Heather and my anniversary dinner--

I had been planning on taking Heather to this Scandinavian restaurant for our anniversary dinner, only to find that the place closed down a little while ago because of the bad economy. I was suddenly at a loss, until I remembered walking past this place called Pierre's bistro a couple years ago and Heather had mentioned that it looked cute. I looked their phone number up and made a reservation without knowing anything about the place.

Heather and I got there and noticed that they were advertising frog legs on a chalk board outside the entrance. Uh oh...Sounds French. This place could be really expensive. Did we end up at the kind of place where you don't really want to eat anything on the menu and the portions are tiny and priced the same as a used car?

Once inside, we noticed it was quite small, one waiter and someone in the kitchen. Heather looked at me questioningly.I decided that we had come this far...may as well finish. We sat down and couldn't read much on the menu because it was all in French. This was also one of those "Gulp" moments. Maybe he writes the menu in French so he can stick frog legs and raw snails in everything and get away with it?

We each ordered some mysterious French thing from the waiter (who was very friendly and nice). My dish sort of sounded like it would have seafood and rice in it. Heather's dish sounded like it would have some kind of French pasta.

The waiter brought out some bread...we tasted it and it was some of the best bread I'd ever had. Maybe it was made with frog legs? Then the waiter brought out this baked brie cheese thing. It was AWESOME! So far everything was edible and yummy...that was a good sign! When our food came, the portions were humongous (another good sign!).

I started eating mine and it was delicious, except I noticed there was no rice. So I went to the waiter and said, "I might be missing something here, because I don't speak French, but isn't my dish supposed to have rice in it?" The waiter said, "You have no RICE? But that is the main ingredient!" He went into the kitchen and after some verbal exchange, promptly came running out to my table, grabbed my dish as if it were some kind of disease and brought it back to the kitchen.

It was at this point that we discovered Pierre's Bistro is actually run by a guy named Pierre and he actually is French. The waiter came back with my new dish and said, "Pierre is really freaking out back there. He is so embarrassed that he forgot the rice. He is not going to charge you for this dish." We told the waiter that it was fine and that we were really enjoying ourselves.

A few minutes later, Pierre made his entrance. He was about 50 or 55, gruff and VERY French. Evidently he moved here in his 20's and started his restaurant. He was as humiliated as I've ever seen a guy to be. I said, "Pierre, your food is delicious!." He looked at me like I was crazy and said (In a French accent), "But of course! I know this! I made the food! But I must be getting too old. I can't believe I forgot the rice. I am so sorry about he rice. I think I am going crazy. I have no idea how I could ever do such a thing. This has NEVER NEVER NEVER happened before! I am so humiliated."

We tried to console our new French friend, but he was pretty far gone in his misery. He began talking about his family, his kids (3 girls, ages 19, 8 and 7--their names tattooed on his arm) but he kept coming back to the rice and how shamed he was. You'd honestly think his world was ending.

Finally, I said, "Pierre, I know what it is like to take pride in your work. I know this must be really hard for you. I hope time heals these wounds." He seemed to accept this response (He had not accepted any of our other condolences). Finally, he left--but then he came back with glasses of Port--"For dessert. On the house, of course."

Anyway, it was one of the fanciest, most delicious (no frog legs or raw snails in our food) AND less expensive than we expected meals we've ever had. In the end we spent about $38 total because Pierre made sure we weren't charged for my meal...not bad for a place that puts frog legs on the chalk board outside the entrance!

I was thinking about the "right said fred" tune when I titled this one. Anyway, here are some pics of the magic the redhead pulled in our basement this weekend! Smooches (Especially to Mr. Shearer).

I'm really dorking out here, but...just look at that drywall goodness! Oh yes, that thing that looks like the deal that killed Jesus is actually a T of drywall power that Dan made to help hold up the ceiling. He could be seen posing like he-man, holding this T and calling out, "By the power of drywall!"

It really is hard to explain how exciting this picture is to me. So I won't. 

Dear Redhead Dan, I salute you!

This is not an easy, or light hearted, or particularly safe blog post. If you're not up for gloom and doom, I suggest skipping today's entry.

http://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/the-passion-of-david-bazan/Content?oid=1169181

(Note- For some reason, you have to copy and paste this link into your browser for it to work correctly.)

The above link is to an article about a musician named David Bazan.  He used to be the front man for a fantastic band called Pedro The Lion. Pedro was an indie sort of band with a strong, Christian influence. Their lyrics were incredibly thought provoking and their recording quality was also pretty inspiring.

The linked article talks about how David's faith has evolved (or perhaps devolved) into agnosticism. Reading this article really stirs up a lot in me. I resonate with David's feelings and thoughts on faith. Mostly, I resonate with the isolation that questioning one's faith brings about.

When you question your faith, you get two basic responses. 1. You get the concerned person who hasn't been cursed with the questions you struggle with and hence, offers advice that misses the mark. 2. You get the person who says, "That's exactly why I don't do religion anymore." But, the person isn't struggling with fear of damnation, alienation, disenfranchisement, etc. the way you do. Ultimately, you begin to find that simply ignoring the questions brings peace, albeit a temporary peace. If you ignore the questions, you can go about living life that isn't painful, that isn't alienating. You are safe again. You don't cause concern in people.

But while ignoring questions of faith feels safe, I don't think it is a healthy way to live. For what it's worth, even the Bible talks about working out our salvation with fear and trembling (Phillipeans 2:12). I find myself working out my salvation with fear and trembling a lot. (I've assumed in the past that I would eventually come to a point where the working out and the fear and trembling would stop...but this hasn't happened for me.) Working out your salvation with fear and trembling sucks. But sometimes I'm plagued with questions like, "What exactly is salvation, or what exactly is true faith, or how do I know my understanding of these things is the correct understanding?"

As a group, we Christians have developed many pre-made answers that we apply like salve to these types of questions. Sometimes they feel slightly hollow though. I think it just goes to prove that questioning Christianity isn't easy. Questioning Christianity doesn't feel safe to those of us raised in cultures of faith. When you question the very thing that is supposed to give you peace of salvation, it's super-scary. Nevertheless, some of us are cursed with an inate drive to question and question and question. As one such person I can say three things with certainty.

1. Questioning is genuinely tough

2. I was very encouraged to read about another guy doing the same thing I've been doing

3. God knew I'd be here, doing this very thing. That, at least, gives some peace.

1. Dig a hole

2. Do some drillin

3. Saw a hole in the side of your house and then freak out because you just sawed a hole in the side of your house!

4. Look creepy while wearing eye, mouth and ear protection and push the bricks out of the side of your house. Do some more freaking out because you just pushed the bricks out of the side of your house!

5. Seal that hole up as best you can.

6. Build and install a window frame and then breathe a huge sigh of relief when some friends who know what they are doing come over to help put the window in the frame. I would be so screwed if it wasn't for James and Dan stopping by to check in on things. Thank you guys!!!

8. Enjoy the natural light that will now fill your basement! (Of course, this picture was taken at 10:30pm, so not too much natural light here.

Well, that was my weekend!

Oh, except for the fact that all electrical will be connected tonight AND I got an electric movie screen off craig's list to install in the ceiling.

I was going to dig my egress window this weekend, but the forecast is for rain and thunderstorms, so digging a big hole down to the foundation of my house might not exactly be the best thing to do. Ah well.

In other news, no one reads my blog anymore. It all started because Jamie shunned me by not updating my status on his blog. Evidently, Jamie holds the balance of all blog power. Gretchen has tried to comfort me by telling me that "blogs are so 2002" and "no one reads anyone's blog anymore," but I think she's just trying to hide the fact that Jamie has shunned me into obscurity.

So, in an attempt to revive my ailing blog, I have changed my address. I am now found at www.danhalvorsen.webs.com  Maybe this will unshun me.

I had a good night with my church family last night. I missed Chuck and the Cradle clan, but nevertheless, it was good.

I'm very biased, but I like it when I can tell that people are singing with some level of abandonment. This is a terrible analogy, but there is this movie called Idiocracy. In the movie, there is a Carl's Jr. advertisment where their slogan is, "Carl's Jr. Fu#$ you! I'm eating!" I'm admittedly twisted and I find this really funny. BUT, I'm bringing this up to say that that's the kind of attitude I totally dig when leading worship. "The G.C. Fu#$ you! I'm singing!" Like we don't care what the person next to us thinks. We're singing loud and proud. As I said, it's a really bad analogy, but hopefully you get my drift. I was in heaven last night because people were opening big cans of worship all over the place. Ok...these analogies are terrible. I'm going to change topics.

In other news, I just realized that I did all my electrical work upside down. This was a VERY depressing realization. Basically, I have big electrical wire to use for outlets and smaller wire to use for lights (because they don't need much electricity). As I surveyed my basement, I noticed that something didn't look quite right...the wire in the ceiling was thicker than the wire going to my outlets. Ahhhhh!!!! Sure enough...I did the exact opposite of what I should have done. So, this week's project will be pulling my runs of outlet wire and replacing them with the correct wire. Luckily, I can leave the lights the way they are.

I keep muttering "Measure twice, cut once" to myself.  

All good things must come to an end. In this case, it happens to be my first love. Uhhh...first motorcycle love that is. She was a sweet and slender redheaded and we had a lot of mileage together.

It's always sad when a relationship comes to an abrupt end. I noticed something was amis when I started to drive my beautful redhead home from work about 2 weeks ago. The bike seemed hard to balance. When I got to my first stoplight it almost toppled on me. I thought it was just me being an unusually terrible driver, so I patted her on the gas tank and kept going. When I got to the entrance ramp for 35W, I tried to turn onto it and the she didn't turn like she normally did. She seemed really unballanced. I wasn't prepared for this and ended up hitting a curb instead of staying on the road. I got a bit scuffed up, but no real harm was done...except to my beloved red beauty. Her front fork was bent. I tried to fix her, but found out her fork costs more than what I paid for her in the first place. This led to a pride-swallowing call to the insurance company. And there, in my driveway (after towing her home) my redhead died in my arms.

The ending to my story is bittersweet, however. The insurance company gave me considerably more money than I paid for the her and I began to search Craigslist for a new relationship.

Goodbye hot red  

Say hellow to my new girl! This is a 1994 Honda Shadow VT1100. She's not a redhead, but I purchased it for an incredibly fantastic price. (Offered the guy my budgeted amount which was $600 less than he was asking and he took it!)

So, I've started a new relationship. We're still in the "getting to know eachother" phase, but things are looking good. The new girl is definitely a hottie,  but I'll always remember my first love.

It's taken me a loooooong time, but here are some more pics from the work in progress that is our basement!

Here are two pics of the plumbing. This first one is taken from the furnace room which is directly behind our new shower.

And this one is taken from inside the bathroom. These pipes lead to the future location of the bathroom sink.

And now for the piece de resistance! The slate tile floor and shower! This next picture is still showing the future location of the sink, but from a few steps back. Sorry, for some reason my blog site keeps turning this picture on it's side.

And here is the lovely shower! This is still a work in progress, but should be done tomorrow! Again, sorry this one is on it's side

Last night I tried out to play on on a new church worship team (New for me - The church has been around for a while). I was pretty nervous actually. When I'm nervous I say things I shouldn't. It's like my mouth just gets a mind of it's own and the mind my mouth gets decides to make the rest of me look really dumb. So, here I am sitting in a circle with something like 10 existing members of the worship team. Then comes this question -

Lead worship guy (wearing the tight jeans and converse sneakers of a rocker, but the face of a 65 year old baptist father who found out his daughter snuck out to go dancing)  "So Dan, we think it's somewhat strange that you want to play at our church when you don't attend here."

Me

"Yeah, it is a bit strange I suppose."

Lead worship guy (Still wearing that serious scowl and making me feel like he thinks I smoked pot in the church bathroom or something)

"Well, how about you tell us why you want to play here...since you don't attend."

Me (My mouth starts getting that mind of it's own. I'm destined for trouble. See, I'm getting uncomfortable at how serious this interview is. I'm trying out to play music, not be the head pastor for crying out loud. My mouth's brain starts to think - I need to lighten the mood. Maybe if I make them laugh they'll see that I'm just a happy guy with no intentions of hurting them. Maybe they'll lighten up and it will be all good. I watch as my mouth starts making me look dumb. Yet again.)
"I try to live my life wholistically. I make all my decisisions based on the 3Gs. (At this point, the scowls start to turn around. These people seem to like order, they like organizational techniques). The 3 Gs are 1. Girls! 2. Glory! and...oh wait a minute....I know there was a third one in there somewhere....oh yeah, God!"

Lead worship guy (Looks very confused and uncomfortable. He doesn't know what to say. He wants to leave. All these thoughts display on his face very clearly for me to see. I think of how appropriate Britney Spears was when she sang, "Oops I did it again.")

"Ummmm......Ahhhhhh....let's play some music and see how you do."

Me (I don't say anything here. I wish I could take it all back. I walk in defeat back to the keyboard. I can't believe I did it again. You'd think I would have learned from Britney...just look how she turned out.)

So, we play a couple songs. I think I played pretty well at least. And there was even a moment when I whipped out an organ sound and the guys looked at eachother with surprised smiles on their faces...this is a good sign! During the music, everyone forgets their scowls. We are one, held together by an incredible drummer. I'm dancing around behind the keys, the guitarist is jaming and doing his thing, the bass player's got some sweet moves.

Then the songs finish. The seriousness returns. The guys all shake my hand and say it was nice playing with me. I'm told I'll hear back from them in 2 to 3 weeks to find out if I got the job or not. I think about trying to salvage my previous joke with a new and better one, but think better of it (rare for me!).

So, here's to three weeks of waiting