Tuesday, April 27, 2010

The Wife

I often talk about our children in this little place of insanity some like to call a blog. And in particular, I tend to talk mostly, about the new(est) addition to our family, our dear daughter Ping.

However, it occurred to me that the name of this little place of insanity is "Forever Family", not just "Forever Some Little Chinese Girl Yelling At Me In Mandarin"...

... so to that end, I intend to maybe capture a little more of the whole Family in my b__ging endeavors.

And I thought, I would take this moment to explain why I love my wife. This might also help answer some questions for Uncle Dwayne.

Uh, thats her, in the picture above... no, not the one on the right... or the middle... the one on the left. Yes, your left. Thats right. In the grey dress.

I'm so lucky!

But back to why I love my wife, I'm gonna break it down with math... :-)
  • See, the way I look at it, there are roughly 5 BILLION people in the world today.
  • Now, 1/2 of them are men, so that drops the "available" pool of wife-ly type replacements down to about 2.5 Billion.
  • Now, out of those 2.5 Billion people, 1/2 are less than average in terms of being a good wife. Which means that the 2.5 Billion candidates drop to 1.25 Billion.
  • Out of that 1.25 Billion above average wife-ly women, 1/2 of them are below average in terms of being a good mother - worse yet, 1/2 of THOSE would be acceptable to mother 2 children, and 1/2 of THOSE would be acceptable replacements to a wife and mother of 4 children. So that drops the available pool from 1.25 Billion to 600 Million, to 300 Million.
Alright, so we are down to 300 Million possible wife-ly types which could possibly do the jorb of my wife... that is, mostly, putting up with me and trying to raise 4 children.
  • Out of those 300 million wife-ly types left, at least 1/2 of them are pissed off at men for something, which drops the available pool down to 150 Million.
  • Now, that 150 Million may still seem like alot of possibilities, but consider the age old expression that "All the Good Ones are Taken". Now, thats an over statement, 100% of them are NOT taken, but lets say 80% of the Good Ones are taken. So that 150 Million becomes something more like 30 Million.
  • Out of that 30 Million, if we apply the laws of 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon (or more precisely, we are only 7 people away from knowing everyone in the planet), we can divide that 30 Million by 7 (because if she was IN that 30 million, I would have met her by now) which leaves us with 4.2 Million possible candidates for a wife-ly replacement.
  • Now, in those 4.2 Million people, at least 1/2 of them are not fit (based on the fact that about 50% of all marriages break down) which means I'll write off the 2.1 Million and save myself some headaches. So, the 4.2 Million is down to 2.1 Million available wife-ly types still hanging around.
  • So lets agree that there are 2.1 Million possible candidates in the whole freaking world who could what my wife dose. Thats only 0.07% of the Female Population which could do what she dose. So that breaks the 2.1 Million down to 147,000.
We're not done yet though... if my mother was right, I will NEVER meet a woman like her.
  • Again, 100% assurance is never guaranteed, so we will go with my mother being 80% correct, which is a little on the low end, but so be it. That drops the 147,000 down to 29,400 women.
The problem now, is that I'm currently 33... which means, I'm looking for someone between the ages of 25 to 35.
  • Which only makes up roughly 17% of the population, dropping the number down to 4,998... lets round up to 5,000 even then.
  • Of those 5,000 possible women who could do what my wife could do, statistically 50% live in 2nd world nations, and 30% live in 3rd world nations, which combined, bring the average mortality rate to almost 50% by the age of 35, dropping the number down to 2,500!
  • Out of those 2,500, I'm sure 1/2 would reject me for the same reason as stated above with regards to marriages not lasting, so we are down to 1,250.
Things are starting to look pretty bleak right about now.
  • Lets say that OPTIMISTICALLY I hit it off with 20% of the ladies (if I remember anything from my teen years, 20% might be a little on the High side... in actuality, my success rate was probably closer to 5%) which drops the 1,250 down to 250!
  • Of those 250 women, I've dated 50. So I've got 200 left.
  • Of those 200 women, 30% would be into "other women" dropping my pool down to 140.
  • Of those 140, 45% of women are unmarried (according to the US Sensus Bureau) between the ages of 18 and 35 - which means only 55% remain unmarried, or 77.
  • Of those 77, only 33% are Christians, which brings the number down to 25
Of those 25,
  • 15 will be be on the re-bound from a bad relationship,
  • 5 will be afraid of commitment,
  • 2 were don't exist since we added them rounding up from 4998 to 5000.
  • 2 will be Bjork Fans...

... which leaves me with 1.

1 Viable Option of a Woman who can do what my wife dose. And thankfully, I already found her, and she actually married me.

I'm so Lucky. :-)

And I guess the bottom line is, if you are lucky enough to find that one special person whom you love, and loves you back, then never let go, of them. Never hold on, to anger, resentment, bitterness. Always give love, no matter the cost. And to quote something a very wise man once told me many years ago, "Remember, the one who wins the fight, is the one who says 'I'm sorry' first".

Monday, April 26, 2010

Proud, defined

Gemmas 6th Birthday Party

Our Dear Daughter #1 (DD#1) recently had her 6th Birthday. When we were talking with her, planning her party, she said that she wanted a "skating party". So we booked a room at the local arena and started making plans.

However, when it came to WHAT she wanted, she blew us all away. She said she wanted to raise money for the people in Haiti who had suffered through the recent earth quake.

So the invitations went out, and the children came.

All in call, our DD#1 raised 181.50$ for the Haiti Relief Fund!

There were a few moments where are parents, you worry about the decisions your children make. And we were worried about this one. Did she realize then that at her party, she would get no gifts? Would she regret her decision?

The weekend before her party, she attended a birthday party for someone else. There were tonnes of gifts, a virtual mountain of toys. Towards the end of the party, my beautiful wonderful marvelous wife saw our DD#1 standing by the toys just staring at them.

Again, my wife asked her "are you sure you don't want toys for your birthday?". Our DD#1 said, "no, I want to help the people in Haiti".

From that point on, I felt so stupid and silly for doubting my child.

I think that our children are developing a wonderful world view of what they see around them. We have not tried to hide them from the injustice in the world, and though adoption, they have been able to see more of this world, both the good and bad, than other children their ages.

They have seen orphanages, but they have also seen their sister Ping.
They have seen poverty, but they have also seen Jasper (a child we've sponsored for many years) grow and do well in school and his family buying live stock.
They have seen natural disasters, but they have also seen their sister help people effected by these disasters.
They have seen many things, but in all, I hope they see God and his love.

Gods love that can move the heart of a family to welcome another person in and love them unconditionally.
Gods love that can help reach out to a child a world away and be consistent and provide in real tangible ways that I think God meant when he said to "help the poor and the weak".
Gods love that moves a 6 Year Old Little Girls heart to raise almost 200$ to help people she doesn't know.

And what I've seen, is Gods love reflected in the lives of our children - and for that, I believe there is still hope in this sometimes hopeless world. :-)

Friday, April 23, 2010

"Only When Daddys Come"

So the lovely wife has headed out of town for the weekend, leaving me to take care of the homestead, and young'ns. You know this isn't going to end well. You can fully expect the next blogs to be Titled "Help! My Kids Are Driving Me NUTS!", followed up by "Where is the DAMNED Duct Tape?!", then "Is it a Legal Offense NOT to answer the Door if it is Child And Family Services Knocking?" and finally "Hey, its Son#1, Dads in Jail, Moms still not home... send food".

Not that I lack confidence in my parenting skills. I think I have tremendous parenting skills! The problem is, the kids still have me outnumbered. At least when there are two of us parents here, we can switch up on a Zone Defense type of coverage on the children, assuming that only 1/2 of the children are acting up at any given moment in time. But with only a lone parent, I need to make sure only 1/4 of the children are acting up at any given time. Now, I *could* do the math to show how UNlikely it will be that only 1/4 of the children are mis-behaving at any one moment in time, but that would be too much work. Instead, I'm just going to leave you all with what happened the LAST time my wife left me with 4 children (no, not the time I set the kitchen on fire)...

Wife: Just take the kids to the play group? They will be good there, and have fun, and then they will stop fighting.
Me: Why don't you just try not being sick today?
Wife: I do this everyday. You just tell them to get thier coats and shoes on, and they will. Then they will pile into the van, and go play at the play group. Its not a big deal.
Me: Alright. I've got this. KIDS, go get your coat and shoes on, we're gonna go to the play group.
Wife: You better hurry, the group starts in 30 minutes.
Me: Its only a 15 minute drive. I've got lots of time.
Wife: If you say so.

Now, this was happening in the midst of Winter, so what I had to do, in 15 minutes is get 4 young children into their snow suits, mittens, scarves, hats, and winter boot... maybe it was my utter lack of the gravity of the situation, or maybe it was my naive nature in trusting my wife that things would go the way she said it would. What happened over the next 30 minutes, is pretty much un-typeable. How do you try to translate into typed text the frustration of trying to get 4 children bundled when they did not want to be bundled?

By the time I had the 1st child into their snow suit, the others were off and running again, getting into fights and trying to start a fire in the basement corner. When I finally tackled the 2nd child to the ground, and started pulling on their snow suit, the fire was now catching on and the free children were looking for a small woodland creature to sacrifice to some heathen deity of Play-dough, Glue and Lego. By the time the 3rd little bundle of joy was hog tied and roped into his snow suit, the 4th had decided that this life was just too much to take, and was trying to jump from the couch arm to end it all.

Eventually, all 4 children were finally dressed, and ready to go... and so far, its only been a 1/2 hour. Not bad I thought. But anyone who has ever dressed a 2,3 or 4 year old in a snow suit knows EXACTLY what happens next... yes, they had to go potty. So as I undressed two of the four to go potty, the others still dressed in their snow suits, at this point for about 1/2 hour, started suffering from heat stroke and dehydration.

Eventually, we DID make it to the van.

By this time:
2 children were crying because they were too "hot"
1 child was crying because they were too "cold"
1 child was happily singing at the top of her lungs which was really driving my newly acquired head-ache home.

But I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Yes'ir, I was a scant 15 minute drive drive to the promised freedom of the play group which would fix all my issues, and provide a utopian environment where the children will roam in the grassy fields, with the bight warm sun shining down on them playing with the butterflys and other children... laughing... singing... can you see it? I could see it!

Then it was gone. As the van got stuck in the 4 feet of snow on the road.

As I was standing out in the blowing snow trying to dig the van free, I though to myself "how can it be that the city of Ottawa NEVER snowploughs our road clean, but today, TODAY of ALL days for some un-explicable reason, SOMEONE came and ploughed 4 feet of snow right on the end of my drive way!"

Another 15 minutes, and we were underway again.

By this time:
2 children were fighting over a toy in the van.
1 child was STILL crying because they were too "cold"
1 child was MISSING?!

Curse the day when children figure out how to UNbuckle their seat belts! I found the little cuteness climbed over the back of the rear bench and hiding in the trunk of the van.

"Only 15 minutes to freedom, only 15 minutes" I kept telling myself. Think of the meadows, and the rivers, and pure joy and rapture! We drove through the blowing snow for a few minutes, when someone HAD to goto the bathroom. And this wasn't just anyone, NO sir, this was the "Mister Small Bladder" himself! So I pull the van over on the side of the road, and stand in the blowing snow using my body as a shield to protect Mr. Small Bladder (and Mr. Small Bladder Jr) from the harsh elements of our cold cruel Canadian Winters.

By this time:
2 children were screaming at the top of their lungs, over what, I still don't know.
1 child was NOW crying because they were too "hot".
1 child was removing all their clothes... (really, I let that go at this point. Whats 1 more naked child in this world today?)

Finally, against all odds, we pulled into the parking lot of the play group. But by this time, we were quite late. Getting a good parking spot, was OUT of the question. Alas, we were resigned to parking in the back corner of the lot. A quick 30 second jog to the door for any adult. However, a monumental undertaking for little ones with a mere 4 centimeter stride. I was temped to just pick them up and run carrying them to the door... but then realized that 1 was naked, another had taken all their winter gear off, and the ones who were still were fully dressed were dripping with sweat! They would all catch pneumonia if I made them walk in their condition to the door. Oh, and they were still all fighting. I looked at the watch, only another 45minutes left in the play group, I've been gone from the house for about an hour already, I could turn around and head home... just tell the wife that "yes, we went to the playgroup". It wouldn't be a lie. I mean, we WERE at the playgroup... so, standing there, in the open door of the van, I ordered them to get back into their car seats and we were going home.

I don't know why I changed my mind. Maybe it was the crying. Maybe it was the threats. I'm not sure anymore. But I did have a change of heart. Standing there in the cold, I re-dressed the naked, got their winter gear back on, and took up as many of them in my arms as I could.

1 on my back.
1 in my left arm.
And 1 in my right.
The eldest child, grasping my coat for dear life as getting lost in this now typical Canadian Winter Blizzard would mean certain death.

And off we ran! Or staggered. I'm not sure if many of you have tried running with 3 children on you and another in tow, it is harder than it looks...
  • The one grasping my coat decided that they didn't want to walk, and I was dragging him along the way.
  • The one in my left arm decided that I should not be carrying the one in my right arm, and the two of them were now fighting with each other, and trying to spring free from my arms so they could get at their switch blades and tire irons.
  • The one on my back, has decided that they are afraid of heights, and is squeezing so tight to my neck that I can't breath!

But only a few paces from the door... three more steps... two more... one more... LOCKED!
Oh for @$%% sake!!!

By this time:
2 children were fighting in my arms.
1 child was crying because they were being dragged across a parking lot against their will.
1 child was still strangling me.

We get around to the front of the building and in through the main doors. Kick off the snow and slush, and head downstairs to the play group. Before I can even get the youngest child undressed the two eldest ones are undressed and off playing. Eventually I get the two younger ones undressed and go to re-join the older ones in the play room.

It was at this point that some woman started yammering at me to "sign them all in". So I go back to the front desk, and fill out all the paper work. I'm sure this is a wonderful and noble thing, but it took just long enough for the children to slip away from me and into the main play area.
  • By the time I arrive in the play area, the eldest one had commendered ALL of the building blocks and was building a wall around himself so he would not have to play with any of the other children.
  • The 2nd eldest (a girl), was in a fist fight with a little girl at the back of the room over a slide.
  • The two younger ones were playing at the paint station...

"Okay man, I can't do the zone defense here, the ice surface is too big, I gotta go man on man!", I was thinking to myself. I start sprinting to the back of the room where the physical fist fight was well underway with hair pulling and punches being thrown. As I hurdle over the wall which Mr. Small Bladder had built I told him to "share the blocks with the other boys" who were now just sitting there, without any blocks. I arrive at the fist-a-cuffs just in time to break it up before the blood started flowing. I remember thinking, "why aren't any of the other moms trying to break up this fight?". Oh right, because they were all sitting on the side, drinking coffee and felt "justified" to let the token "Dad" break up the fight, since they "do this every day". Okay, what ever... I turn to see what the others are up too.
The two youngest were still at the paint station, except, the decided to PAINT their CLOTHES! The youngest pretty pink shirt was now covered in browns and yellows. I started dodging through the crowd of children and un-interested mothers as I shouted at Mr. Small Bladder again to "stop building a wall AROUND the other children". I guess since I would not allow him to build a wall around himself to keep the other boys out, he decided to build a wall around THEM to keep them IN.

I arrived at the youngest two, striped their outer sweaters covered in paint, and start washing them in the sinks. Now, they did have LOVELY large easels there, with big sheets of clean paper, and others with pictures to paint. And while there were a good number of children painting in the predictable manner, mine decided that they would not be bound by the arbitrary rules and conventions of our narrow minded and utilitarian culture. To them, everything was a canvas just waiting to be painted - to be given expression and a story to tell through colour and madness. While I was washing their sweaters, they painted on all the tables, the little kiddie chairs, them selves, each other, and just plain others. I spend the next 20 minutes washing everything (and everyone) down.

It was about this time that all the children gathered for their "Snack time". Snack time?! No one told me about SNACK TIME! Well all 4 children lost it as other children pulled out puddings, gummy bears, fresh fruit, and the like. Mean while, I scrapped a few dried out Cheerios out of the carpet and passed it to my troop...

... finally, as the children settled down with their crusty Cheerios, one of the other Mothers walked over and asked how it was going. I said it was kind of crazy... and asked if my children's behavior was "normal".

I was so relieved when she answered, "Yes, this behavior is normal... but only when a Dad comes."

At that point, I packed the children up, and left.
When I left, I thought, "we must have been there for well over an hour!"
You can imagine my disappointed when I climbed wearily into the van and looked at the clock. We had been in there for less than 45 minutes... much closer to 20minutes really.

I slowly left the parking lot... and drove down the cold, desolate highway. The children, finally tuckered out, started to settled down and drift off to sleep, when I heard, "I need to pee".

Wife: So, how was it?!
Me: Oh, great.
Wife: It was just like I said eh. The kids really liked it and were great.
Me: Oh yea. Of course.
Wife: I'm so proud of you! I knew you could do it.
Me: Well, I am a rather awesome Dad ya know. The kids were great. No problems what-so-ever.
Wife: I'm so lucky to have you!*
Me: Yes, yes you are.
Wife: Why is this sweater covered in paint?

Never let 'em see you bleed! If she knew how rough it was, it would only make her feel more justified in her whole "Its hard to be a Mom" thing, and I would NEVER hear the end of it. :-)

* = I added that line. I know she was thinking it though.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010


Main Entry: per·se·ver·ance
Pronunciation: \ˌpər-sə-ˈvir-ən(t)s\
Function: noun
Date: 14th century
perseverance: the action or condition or an instance of persevering : steadfastness

Every month at the childrens school, they have an awards ceremony for children/students who have shown great character and determination, or some other wonderful quality obviously obtained through the genes of their mother.

My beloved children have won a myriad of such awards. From being polite, to determined, smart, good looking (obviously obtained through the genes of their father)... you know. The usual.

I also won many awards when I was in school. Mostly, well, I guess you can't really call them awards... but I DID garner alot of attention from the teachers! And principals. And maybe some law enforcement officers... and social workers... but I digress too much.

Point is, this last month, at the general assembly, our Dear Daughter #1 (DD#1) won an award for Perseverance! We were so proud of her. It has been a hard(er) go for her, to go from the baby of the family, and her fathers one and only princess (Okay, NOT that I am promoting Avril Lavignes music, she has that one song "Girlfriend" where her line is "hell yea I'm the one and only Princess" - and it TOTALLY makes me think of my DD#1) to an instant Big Sister with a (somewhat) forceful (somewhat) bossy (somewhat) determined Little Sister.

I was so proud of her to win this award, because it really showed that even people on the outside, can see how great our children are, even when they go through hard times, and when things don't always maybe go the way they want.

There was my DD#1 shyly standing up, slowly walking towards the front of the assembly, hands to her mouth (as she is prone to hold them when she is nervous) and head looking embarrassingly at her feet. It really was one of those moments that makes you proud to be a Dad.

Then, Ping also won an award for Perseverance (and who jumped up and basically charged the stage waving to her adoring public). And rightfully so, I'm not going to re-hash all the things she has had to persevere through just to survive in this world thus far, let alone being taken away to a (somewhat) cold land with (somewhat) scary people with a (somewhat) hairy Yeti who keeps chasing her looking for hugs and kisses.

So here is to those moments when the world seems right, when your parenting efforts pay off, and more importantly, when you as a proud father can stand up, full of pride and take all the glory and honour and praise for a job well done parenting your children (somewhat) made possible by the efforts, blood, toil, sweat and tears of your wife's hard work.
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Monday, April 19, 2010

I don't love you today, maybe tomorrow...

Me: What did Daddy say?
Ping: Ping no throw books.
Me: Right, and what did Ping do?
Ping: Yes throw book.
Me: Did Ping listen to Daddy?
Ping: No.
Me: Is Daddy happy or sad that you did not listen.
Ping: Daddy no happy.
Me: So will Ping listen to Daddy?
Ping: Yes.
Me: Thank you. Daddy loves you Ping.
Ping: I no love Daddy.
Me: That is OK. But I still love you.
Ping: I no love Daddy.
Me: That is OK. But Daddy still loves Ping.
Ping: I no say I love Daddy today.
Me: Maybe tomorrow?
Ping: Yes. Ping love Daddy tomorrow.
Me: That's great. I still love you today though, and tomorrow.
Ping: No today. Tomorrow I love Daddy.
Me: OK, good night baby, I love you.

I would have to say, that once the initial "punched in the gut" feeling wore off, this made me SO VERY HAPPY! I was thrilled that my daughter said she "no love" me (more on that at the end of the post)...

Ah the joys of parenthood! It is not for the faint, or the weak, or those who get queasy at the sight of blood. Thats for sure. Having your child tell you they don't love you is one thing, thinking they believe it is something else.
If Ping was angry, or yelling, or if we just had a big fight, I would have been much more fine wither her saying she "no love" me, because I would understand that it was an emotional response, and she was angry. However, this was not that case. Yes, I told her not to throw books, but it was actually kind of funny, not a "scolding", and she never got into any "trouble". So when she said she didn't love me, it was much more "matter of fact".

You know, like a "Hey, just in case you were wondering, no, I don't love you." To which I would be "Any particular reason?", and she would answer "Nope, no reason. I just don't love you". Ah well, I see then... carry on then.

But this was the "1 step back" for the week, and the flip side has been the "2 steps forward".

Just this morning, Ping chased me down as I was getting breakfast ready, and asked to be picked up. Once she was safely in my arms, she snuggled her head into my neck, and said she wanted a "hug", then she held on so tight, and I'm pretty sure she was just about crying.

There are definite moments of vulnerability now which were never there before, and we are so proud of how well she is doing. Ping is truly amazing.

But my final though on this whole "I no love you Daddy" is this:
She gets it.
She finally gets it.
Or at least is GETTING it.
It being "love".
If she did not GET Love, she would not think to deny me love.
She must be understanding that Love is this wonderful thing, and that it is very important, and feels great to be loved, safe, and accepted.
She would not try to deny me something "bad".
I mean, after she threw the book and was angry, its not like she said "Ping no give Daddy dirty diapers!".
She knew that denying Love would be "painful" which means, she gets the importance of love.

So I am thrilled that she thought to deny me love...
I can only hope, everyone gets that chance to have their children tell them that they don't love them. :-)

Monday, April 12, 2010

Special Things...

Me: So, why is our beautiful blond haired petite daughter dragging an 8 foot tree trunk across the yard?
Wife: Because I asked the kids to clean up the back yard.
Me: Right, but she's dragging it to the toy box.

Wife looks out the window.

Wife: Oh that 8 foot tree trunk... thats a special 8 foot tree trunk for her.
Me: Special?
Wife: Yup. She drags it all over the yard and loves it.
Me: But... its an 8 foot piece of a tree trunk.
Wife: I know. But its special.
Me: To her.
Wife: Yup.

Hmmmm... interesting thought. I'm sitting there, watching the children drag all the toys all over the yard as Spring Cleaning kicks into high gear. As as I looked down as the amassed collection of bikes, trucks, toys, balls, rakes, shovels, animal bones (don't ask), frisbees, lawn darts (the non-fun versions, you know, the ones without the sharp pointy ends), etc... I was stuck by this massive stick our eldest daughter had dragged over and added to the pile.

See, it is important and special to her. It doesn't matter what it is, or why it is special... it just is.

When our little Ping left China, she did not have much with her. And my wife is clearly holding onto everything that came with Ping to make sure there are some memories for her when she gets older. The China shoes, the china coat, the china sweater (which I almost sent to Goodwill... you were almost reading my obituary this week on the blog), her china photo books, etc. And yes, she holds on very dearly to those things.

The shoes I've written about in the past... but her photo books of her friends are quite special to her as well. Very "hands off my pictures" if you know what I mean.

But of all the things left behind, what "8 foot section of tree trunk" is she missing today?

I used to tell myself that the things she would miss would be the things given to her, or sentimental things, I never counted on big pieces of sticks... or rocks... or who knows what.

Loss is huge, what she is missing is huge.

You would (or at least I did) expect her to miss her friends, her care givers, etc... but, what about the other things? The things which make no sense to me and my very limited capacity of understanding?
She may miss the routine of the Orphanage, in fact, I'm positive she misses it.
She may miss the chaos of 500 children in a confined space...
She may miss the things which I think she shouldn't miss...
Like, getting in trouble... I swear sometimes, she pushes our patience so far, and then when she finally gets in trouble she gives us a big smile like "FINALLY, phew... I thought they'd NEVER discipline me!"... aaaand then she erupts into a fountain of tears.

My oldest daughter probably doesn't need that 8 foot section of tree trunk (unless she has started building a trebuchet in the backyard and is planning on storming some castle looking for a prince), but she wants it. It may not be the best toy in the world... it may not even be good for her, or safe to play with. But, for whatever reason, it is special to her.

My beautiful little Ping probably doesn't need to hold onto some of the "things" she is holding on to, but I'll be darned if I'm gonna be the one to take these things away from her, because they are important to her... even if I can't figure out why.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Audio Dump (music)

I think I've pointed it out before on the blog, that I use music to process "Stuff". Seems to work well for me... I donno about those who are stuck listening to it tho. So press play, don't press play, I'm okay with it either way. :-)

But again, these are just very rough recordings while I'm making words and stuff up on the fly... so don't expect much.

Finally Falling In Love (hopefully what Ping is starting to think)

You Said (we don't struggle alone)

Heaven Can Wait (actually, this started out about my father)

Go (gave up on this early cuz I thought it sounded to generic)