Family

Puffy, The Camera Slayer

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Long ago, in a land not very dissimilar from our own, there were two little girls. Their names were Lagoria and Lizzanthia. The two sisters were particularly good one season, and at the Sun Harvest Festival, their father purchased them each a fairy scribe of their own. Fairy scribes, as you know, can not write words at all. They can only sketch ideas and words into pictures. Lagoria and Lizzanthia both loved the fanciful fairy sketches their mother’s High Fairy Scribe created — and their father Shagoth knew they would train their fairies to be as skilled as Lady Donaria’s one day.

Sadly, before the double moon set on the harvest celebration, Lagoria and Lizzanthia were on a photo hunt with their new fairies and fell upon a fierce dragon. Excited to get sketches of the dragon, both girls sent their trembling fairies after the dragon as it retreated into its cave. The girls stayed safely outside the cave, but knew that since fairies can’t be burned by dragon flame, the sketches they would get would be lovely.

And they were.

The sketches were magnificent. Everyone from miles around was shocked and amazed at how detailed the sketches were. Why, even the corners of the canvases were scorched, and the sulfur-laced smoke could still be smelled as if the viewer was deep within the dragon’s cave. In fact, it was so full of realism, the girls were forced to keep the sketches outside so the family wouldn’t choke from the smoke!

The problem came when the girls took their fairies out on another photo hunt. While fairies can’t be harmed by dragon fire, they aren’t immune to dragon magic. So while the fairies continued to sketch for the girls, every sketch smelled like fire and brimstone, and every sketch contained the likeness of the dragon himself. See for yourself!

So now, the girls borrow their mother’s Sketch Fairy from time to time, but apart from that have no way to record the beauty of the realm. They hope someday to be gifted with the Pink Camera of Sweetness and Light so they can once again capture their world without the taint of dragon. Until that day, the Sketch Fairies will live in agony, knowing they can not make Lagoria and Lizzanthia smile.

The End. (Or is it?)

Tigger

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Yesterday, my family went to a local animal shelter to walk some dogs and pet some cats. As I walked “Taz”, an old dog with a mellow personality, I realized that I haven’t mourned the loss of Tigger. I want to tell you about Tigger, and while it won’t bring him back, perhaps it will help him to never be forgotten. And maybe, I’ll be able to get past his loss instead of just bottling it away inside.

I didn’t want a dog. Really. I didn’t want to housebreak a puppy, I didn’t want to worry about feeding and caring for a dog every day. I didn’t want to find a dog sitter every time we left town. Dogs were messy, stinky, hairy, and stressful. That day so many years ago when the girls were staring over the fence next to the church, and gawking at puppies, it was very clear to everyone we were NOT getting one. Still, puppies are cute, so I walked over to the pen myself in order to gather my girls and look at the clumsy little pups as all the kids from church reached through the fence to pet their noses.

When I got to the fence, I saw just what I expected. Sure enough, there were puppies gathered at the fence, stepping on each other to get closer to the children that were giving them affection (and possibly crumbs of cookie still stuck on their fingers from Sunday School.) What I didn’t expect to see was a puppy halfway to the fence laying spread eagle and wagging his stub of a tail, but not coming over to get scritched. I thought perhaps he was shy, or scared, or that he had just eaten so much food that he ran out of gas on the way over to the kids. Moments later, however, I saw the problem.

All the pups had slight neurological problems, and walked a bit more awkward than a normal clumsy puppy. I hadn’t noticed before, but realized it after looking for a while. This pup, however, was much much worse. He had spent the 15 minutes or so since church got out trying to get over to the fence, but had only made it halfway before collapsing from exhaustion. His back legs couldn’t quite support his weight, and try as he might, he never made it over to the giddy children. It was in that heartbreaking moment of realization that Tigger became my dog. Honestly, I didn’t even know it yet, but looking back — it was that moment.

I jumped the fence, decked out in my Sunday best, and walked over to the squirmy puppy. Since he was unable to walk, he was covered in mud (and probably other things), but I picked him up anyway. I wish I could describe the joy that little puppy showed when I picked him up. There are some amazing joyful times in life for people: The birth of a child, scoring the winning point in a game, marrying your spouse — but in the life of a dog, I don’t think it’s possible to be more happy than Tigger was at that moment.

I carried him out of the gate, over to our van, and into our lives.

Looking back, it seems like a rather bold move for me to make, introducing a dog, especially a crippled dog, into our house without talking to Donna about it. I don’t recall her ever questioning me though. We took him home, cleaned him up, and let him play in the front yard with the girls. It was that day he got his name. See, Tigger wasn’t strong enough to walk, but when he tried, his back legs would bounce his butt up and down. He didn’t walk, but he sure could bounce! Thus, Tigger was his name.

That summer proved to be quite challenging for Tigger. The vet told us he would probably never walk right. He had about a 3/4″ overbite, bad legs, he shook constantly, and had possible brain damage — but his brain didn’t appear to be swollen, and he wasn’t in any pain. The best we could do would be to walk him often and strengthen his back legs so he could get around.

Yes, house training a dog that can’t walk is a challenge. Thankfully, since he constantly shook, Tigger liked to sleep wedged between the couch and the wall to help hold still. We knew when to take him outside, because as he came out from behind the couch, he would bang against the wall as he tried to get up. “THUMP THUMP THUMP!” It was time to carry Tigger outside to do his business. 🙂

Every day we would walk and walk with Tigger. At first he would only make it to the end of the driveway before collapsing, but as days turned into weeks he was able to go for short walks. We’d generally walk him as far as we could get him to go, and then I’d carry him on the way back home. The bigger and stronger (and heavier and harder to carry!) he got, the further he was able to go. We started tying his leash to the stroller, and he would pull the girls along on our walk. It was good for him, and the girls though it was awesome. Summertime sled dog!

While he had a taste for garbage (not so much in his older years), and he liked tangling with skunks (actually more often the older he got), Tigger was the best dog I could ever imagine having. He spent almost a year sequestered from the family due to an undiagnosed thyroid problem, which caused a constant nasty skin infection. But his last days were spent with the freedom to roam around the house again. He lived longer than the vets ever expected, and almost fully overcame his leg problems. Tigger had a funny little limp when he ran, but he was able to run and play throughout most of his life.

Sadly, Tigger was in the house when it burned in January. When I opened the front door to search for the animals, I found him, already gone right by the front door. With all the grown up responsibilities, duties to perform, children to care for, home to provide — I’ve never really taken the time to think about Tigger. My dog. My friend. My loyal companion.

So Tigger, it breaks my heart that you’re gone. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. And while your passing rips out my heart, I can honestly say that even though I’m typing this through the blur of tears — that look on your face when I picked you up after church all those years ago makes my pain bearable. Thanks for being there for me, when I didn’t even know I needed you.

Fire and Smoke, Awesome Edition

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Yesterday I blogged about my day of awesome. There was one little thing I left out — the family bought me a combination early Father’s Day and birthday gift in the form of an awesome grill!

If you think an awesome grill would have propane fire, quite frankly you don’t know the awesomeness that is charcoal. Here you can see me with my ninja cooking utensils and my chimney starter full of burning briquettes. (If you don’t have a chimney starter, go buy one. You’ll be thankful you did.)

Just out of frame is a bowl of soaking hickory chips. I debated whether to use hickory or mesquite, but since it’s the beginning of summer, I figure I can alternate all year. Because really there’s no wrong answer. Mmmmmm…

I hope your weekend is half as good as mine. I’d wish it to be as awesome, but I fear you might explode. 🙂

The Best Day Evar!

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If you follow me on Twitter, you know that today I went fishing. It was the first time in about a decade that I’ve gone, and while I didn’t even get the slightest hint of a nibble, it was awesome!

Then the day got better. I sent an email to the staff at school, and even on a holiday weekend — I got a couple replies with good fishing spots in the area!

And THEN it got even BETTER! My family went to a graduation open house (Hi Kari!) and afterward our kids didn’t want to leave. We found them rides, and Donna and I went out for ice cream and a walk around town. It was the closest thing to a date we’ve had in months, and it was extremely awesome.

AND THEN Donna agreed to go two tracking with me to try finding the remote fishing spot, which Google is showing off in the photo above. The road was deep, loose sand — and we almost got stuck! Thankfully we didn’t, but it was just scary enough to be exciting.

Granted, I didn’t get any work done today. Granted I’m way behind. But it’s also a holiday weekend, and the first day off I’ve taken since before I can remember.

I hope YOUR day was as awesome as mine, but honestly, it doesn’t seem possible. 🙂

On Raising Girls

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My oldest girl turned 13 this past weekend. Those of you following me on Twitter or Facebook probably heard about the big party she had, and how her old man struggled to deal with 15 teenage girls. Honestly though, the party was fine, the girls all behaved (for the most part), and Amanda made me proud. She and her sisters are good girls, and while the next 10 years will most likely be filled with stress and drama around the Powers house — I’m confident they’ll turn out to be the successful young ladies we’ve raised them to be. Mind you, by successful I mean oh so much more than financially successful. I certainly hope for that, but really it’s only a small part of success.

Why am I confident our girls will turn out OK? Quite honestly there are many reasons. One, we really won the lottery when it comes to progeny, and the 3 girls are fine examples of human beings. That means they are good little lumps of clay. That also means they need to be molded. While I don’t claim to be a great parent, I think we’ve done pretty good so far. The next decade will really tell the story, but I wanted to share some insight at this point. Perhaps I’ll look back at this and bitterly laugh at myself, but even if that’s the case, I doubt I’d change anything in the past.

Discipline and Punishment are Not the Same Thing

Donna and I are strict disciplinarians. We were even more strict when the kids were younger (seriously). Being strict when your kids are young means that you earn credibility early on. You earn respect. You earn trust. If there is one thing I wish I could convince young parents it is that discipline is not mean. Children crave discipline, whether they know it or not. Ask any decent sports coach. A team with discipline is a more effective, and happier team.

But here’s the rub: Discipline is hard. I’m no Dr. Spock, but if you think discipline is just punishing a child when they misbehave, Ur doin it rong. Discipline is an elaborate dance involving consistency, firmness, fairness, and most of all, communication. No, life isn’t fair — but as parents, you certainly ought to be!

Kids are Smart. They’re Immature Sometimes, but Smart.

There is a drastic difference between a child that is angry at you for punishing them, and a child that thinks you are incorrect for punishing them. No, you can’t always convince a child they need to be punished, but if you’re open with them, they’re more likely to respect your reasoning.

The funny thing about discipline and consistency is that if you explain to your child why you’re punishing them — even if they vehemently disagree, they’ll understand why you’re doing what you’re doing. Very often, if you don’t punish them, you lose all credibility. Again, even if they don’t admit or realize it, kids like discipline.

Put Away the Shotgun.

The strong father figure cleaning his shotgun is fine. Really. I have no problem with putting the fear of God into a young man as he’s given the responsibility of caring for the father’s daughter. For me, however, I’d look absurd cleaning a shotgun. Guns aren’t my thing. Oh, I’m intimidating, and any boy will tremble before he takes out my daughters — but my weapon of choice is psychology. Your mileage may differ.

Here’s the thing though, you can be as scary as you want, your daughter is the one that will ultimately make choices on how the evening goes. There is nothing more formidable than a confident young lady that trusts and respects her parents, knowing they trust and respect her in return. Let me repeat that, as it’s so vital, there is nothing more formidable than a confident young lady that trusts and respects her parents, knowing they trust and respect her in return. Sure, I can be the muscle, but it’s her life, she has to be the brains.

And with that, I’m going to go talk to my kids. You should do the same. (Not my kids, but you know what I mean…)

Some Visuals of the House

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Here is our burned house. Don’t let the outside fool you — it’s totaled. If anyone would want to preserve it, it would be the insurance company, and even they agree demolition is the only option. Also, the contents are a total loss. Here’s what it looks like though:

The house we’re putting up in its place will be bigger, and sport a half basement. Here’s the floorplan:

Click on floorplan to embiggenate

The basement will only be rough plumbed, and we’ll finish it in the future. We plan to eventually have a kitchenette, bedroom, and bathroom down there, along with a media center. Since this house will cost about $50K-$60K more than insurance will pay, we’re going to be scrimping everywhere we can…

Anyway, just wanted to update everyone! Hope you’re having a great day. 🙂

A Question About T-Shirts

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Ok, maybe a couple questions about ’em…

1) Do you have “dress” t-shirts?

By that I mean t-shirts you treat as more formal attire than you do the mountains of t-shirts we have for sleeping, painting, dog washing, etc. Personally I do. I have lots of t-shirts in a drawer, but I also have my “dress” t-shirts that get hung on hangers. For example, my vintage Green Lantern shirt gets a hanger, while the t-shirt from the local physical therapy place (which they handed out during a parade) gets folded and shoved in a drawer. That brings me to my next question:

2) Do you hang or fold t-shirts? Or both? Or neither?


3) Are you OK with a cotton/poly blend t-shirt, or are you only truly happy with 100% cotton?

For me, I’m only truly happy with 100% cotton — but if the shirt is awesome enough, I’ll wear a poly/cotton blend. I might put a cotton shirt under it though.

And lastly:

4) If you could wear a t-shirt to work every day, would you?

I totally would. I already wear my Converse All-Stars 7 days a week, if I could add blue jeans and t-shirts to the “every day” mix — I would do it in a heartbeat.

So that’s my question for your Saturday evening. Feel free to include a story about your favorite t-shirt. I haven’t had any long enough (post fire) to have a favorite, but I’m rather fond of my superhero shirts. Which reminds me… I still have to get one of those root superhero shirts. 🙂

What Should Be In The High School Library SciFi Section?

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As many of you know, my wonderful wife works in the high school library. Even if you didn’t know that, it’s still true. Seriously though, one of the areas the library is severely lacking in is the science fiction department. Really, it’s slim pickings. So here is my request: Please leave in the comments what books you think should be in a high school library’s science fiction section. If all the recommendations come from me, it will basically just be full of my favorites. While that would suit me just fine, the thought of growing similar minded geeks is a bit unsettling. Please keep in mind:

  • Our community is pretty conservative, so graphic alien on alien action is likely a deal breaker.
  • Please don’t recommend a book that is in the middle of a series. Recommend the whole series. Seriously, my OCD can’t handle that nonsense. 🙂
  • Newer authors are encouraged. The classics are certainly not to be left out, but really — we want to introduce kids to new authors as well.
  • I think that’s it!

So please, leave your thoughts in the comments. Also, if you know anyone that would have an opinion on the issue, please pass a link along. I’m really hoping to get a good list together for her. Thank you!

It’s Already Old News…

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And yet we’ve just begun the process. The world has gone forward, us included, yet it amazes me how tumultuous our lives remain. My family appreciates everyone’s continued thoughts and prayers. Donna went to the house for the first time since the fire yesterday, and it was really hard on her. I think if the home were completely burned, it would be easier to deal with — but it’s not. One room is completely destroyed, but the rest of the house is just blackened, twisted, and ominous. I mentioned last week on Twitter that our house seemed like a version in an alternate universe, where things were dark, desolate, and destroyed. It’s quite unpleasant to visit. I took a few pictures, but most don’t turn out well because everything is black and there is only the light filtered in through smoke and heat damaged windows.


This was the first thing we saw when the door was opened. Our new washer and dryer, completely white, were blackened and filthy looking.


For a contrast on how the house used to be, I moved a rug that was sitting on the kitchen floor. The white is the color everything used to be — now it’s all pitch black. It’s baked into every surface, and can’t be scraped away.


This photo is hard to make out, but here on the left is the remains of a bedroom floor. on the right is a gaping hole to the crawlspace below. This room completely burned, without even floor joists left in the center.


Just an example of the “alternate reality” appearance, here is our shower stall with shampoo in place, yet horrid looking.


Same with the (white) bathroom counter. This is where the girls primped and curled their hair for church, hours later it was converted to what you see here.


A rather disturbing image is the playroom. These are toys my niece just got for Christmas. The photo doesn’t really show just how black the black is.


Oddly, this hand-painted piece (a Christmas gift from a family friend) is seemingly unharmed. While you can’t tell from the photo, everything around it is completely black and stained. This bright orange painting is like a beacon in the center of destruction.


And lastly, blackened, slightly burned, yet still accurate. The sign that hangs above our hallway reads, “As for me and my family, we will serve the Lord.”

Webkinz…

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While I’ve been looking for a contact on the “inside” at Ganz, the makers of “Webkinz”, I sent this letter to their support email. My hope is that it finds someone that realizes the significance to a 9 year old girl:

Dear Webkinz,

My name is Shawn Powers, I’m an editor at Linux Journal, a Technology Director at a school district in Northern Michigan, and a father of 3 girls. I fully understand your account policy regarding forgotten passwords, but I’m hoping there is some way we can work together so my daughter can access her account again.

Last Sunday, my family lost our house to a fire while we were at church. While no one was home, unfortunately our dogs and cat were trapped inside and perished. To add additional pain to misery, when we were able to get laptops for the kids to use — our youngest was unable to log into her webkinz account. Apparently she had recently changed her password, but she remembered it incorrectly. Since the only way to recover a password is with a secret code, which burned in the fire, not only has Lizzie lost her real pets, but also her virtual ones.

I can provide every reference, recommendation, professional contact, identification, history, etc. that you might want. I just want to give my daughter a little bit of the “home” she lost. I realize it would go against your policy, but even if you can change her password back to what it was before her most recent change — that would likely do the trick.

Her login is: HIDDEN
She thought her password was: HIDDEN
She says the password before that was: HIDDEN

If her recollection of the animals in her account will help verify it’s really her, I can ask her to describe them to me.

Thank you for any help you can offer,
-Shawn Powers

If you know anyone at Ganz, please send ’em my way. 🙂

UPDATE: She got her account back! Thanks everyone!