Et Tu, Google? (Google Reader screed ahead)

Ah, so, Google Reader.  It's going away in July 2013.

Yes, this is another rant decrying the shutdown of Google Reader.  However, it's my process for working through losing the app I've used every day since it was announced.  I mean that.  Every. Day.

I've used Google Reader so long, I don't remember what I used before it to read RSS feeds; I vaguely recall using NetNewsWire or some other installed application, but those never felt right.  Just as with email, the concept of sync'ing internet content to my PC never felt right.

I've gone on fasts;  I've been off facebook for years at a time, I've demurred and neglected twitter, but if I've had access to an internet-connected anything (PC, laptop, smartphone, Kindle), rest assured I was checking my feeds.

Why?  And why isn't twitter or something similar a good substitute?

Leaving aside twitter for a moment, the simple answer is speed and uniformity.  

Speed: Unlike most folks, the chrome and good design touches on those ultra-CMS'd sites out there make me want to die.  Seriously, when I go to TTAC.com and the pageload time is > 5 seconds, it kills me.  And that's....for.....each...article.

If I wanted to spend time to catch-up, I'd just read a frickin' newspaper, okay?

Uniformity: With Reader, I could scan headlines by the dozen, read 12 articles each morning, and process the volume of useless drivel high concept innovation coming out of silicon valley each day from my perch out here in flyover country.  I still firmly believe in tight English prose as a communication medium, and RSS boiled away the layers of DHTML, JS, CSS, and loud, layered images to a consistent format.

Look, I know Reader never monetized.  It probably never even paid for its own bandwidth, and I suppose reliance upon it kept many influencers/decision-makers away from the Golden Calf known as Google+.  "Bow down and worship our boil-the-ocean social media push," says Tommy Boy

Well, we're not buyin' it.  Maybe the Social Media Fairy's a glue sniffer, and sneaks into your house.  Suddenly $50 is missing from your wallet and you're daughter's knocked-up.  I've seen it a hundred times...

Ahem.  So, Google is choosing to sunset a product I never paid for.  That's its prerogative, certainly.  I understand, I'm not entitled to jack, since no money changed hands and their terms of use flatly state in subparagraph 314159 that they can do that at any time.

There are alternatives.  Currently, I'm evaluating Feedly, but it's....pretty.  It's attempting to be all Web 2.0.1, and I don't want that.  I like things that scrape content, render reasonable amounts of inline images, and STFU.  Per my software design principles, good software should disappear and let you focus on the task at hand, and Reader (prior to the last redesign anyway) did that fabulously.

Perhaps this is just a nail in the coffin of RSS overall, where I'll need to go to each site individually again just to read their 36px text and 70's fantastic graphics (TechCrunch, I'm looking at you).  Or maybe, I'll just read less online content.

So, on this St. Patty's Day, I pour one out for Reader as it slouches towards the bit bucket.   You shall be missed.

1Q in, how's that New Year's Resolution going?

Most New Year's Resolutions fail.

If you doubt this, look at your waistline, your bank account, and the amount you spend on your particular vice(s).

So, how are mine going?

Status at the moment:

1. Small Group leadership.  I've sucked at this one, at least in the short term.  I did ask my co-leader to take over, and he did a wonderful job.  I'm back at the helm through the end of this term, but I remain undeterred that I'm going to step out of small group leadership (and small groups) next fall.  Rating: Fail.
2. Facebook.  I'm out, and I've stayed out.  The app is not on my phone, and I have no desire to go back.  Rating: Winning.
3. Kindle Bible study.  This one was classic:  I did it like gangbusters for 2 weeks, then...uh.  Basically, I was on day 12 of my study in January,  then I loaded it this morning and I was on Day 12.  Rating: Fail.
4. Writing code every day.  At this point, I'm writing code at least every week....Rating: Fail.
5. Stop watching TV.  I have stopped watching TV, other than watching things with Whitney or the occasional UK game.  Rating: MEH
6. Take walks every day.  FAIL
7. Give gifts without expectations.  WIN.  I think this has actually been the most important change in my attitude.
8. Sufficient clothes + take care of them.  FAIL.  And I'm fatter than I was last year, so even that meager amount I had don't fit.  EPIC Fail.
9. Visiting Parents once per month.  Win.  I've visited with them each month through March.

Final Tally:

• Win: 3
• Meh: 1
• Fail:  5

Visualization, a Harry's Rumination's classic:

Things are looking better: Longer days have lead to more activity, and I'm taking time each day for bible study.

Winterjam 2013, or 'Wow, that Bass is loud.'

"Are these your kids?!" the 50-ish man leaned over and asked me.  Despite the din of 100+ decibel music, he seemed calm and his voice was clear.  We were second row back on the center stage, and Jamie Grace just got done strumming her guitar in a duet with Toby Mac.  My son Joey was star struck, and Caleb looked like he'd just wet his pants when TobyMac strolled casually in on his part of the song, Hold Me.

"Yup!  Well, this one is and the one in the green is a kid from our church."

"Want to come backstage with me?"

At that point, my mind went TILT.  Seriously?  Backstage...I told the boys to follow on and I passed my dumbstruck wife and mouthed the words.

"We're"
"Going"
"Backstage"

* * *

How did we get here?  Remarkable coincidences abounded.

Once my wife saw on Facebook that Winterjam was coming to Rupp, she posed-up to get a group from our church together to go.  There are two ways to get in:  You can line up outside and pay $10 a head to get a first-come-first-served,  general admission seat, or you can pay $30 to get priority seating, but again, it's first come first served.  We weighed the pros and cons: Weather was dodgy and people literally camped out for the GA seats, and the line gets alittle, uh...long

So we went with the $30 tickets as part of a group buy from our church.

Lexington was hosting ComicCon, a Gun Show, a St. Patrick's Day parade, and Winterjam on 16 March, so it did a reasonable impersonation of a city instead of the overgrown town it is.  Therefore: Traffic was terrible trying to get to Rupp.  Thankfully, we left around 1:30pm and had to arrive before the doors opened at 3:30 to let us in.  We got to plan 'C' on parking before we found a spot, observing the line wound around rupp and down to the Cox street lot below (see above).  We got into position and found our cohorts (Christine, Kyle, Kelsey, and Caleb) like 3 people back (they'd been standing in line awhile).

So we got ready for about an hour's wait, and I read the fine print on the voucher--we had tickets at will call but we all had to be together at the same time to get them.  So we line jumped^H^H^H^H^H...uh...joined our compatriots at the head of the line.  Then, the next drama:  Two of our group were foreign exchange students who were getting dropped off and trying to find us.  They had roughly 20 minutes to do so, and they weren't going to make it, so I volunteered to remain behind and look for them--Zoey and Martha.  One was a 5'9" Dutch Blonde, the other was a 6' Norwegian blonde.  I figured they wouldn't be hard to find.

They weren't.

So, we go through the line again and joined our group, then found our seats, which were on the floor.  On the second row.  Facing a 6' tall subwoofer bank that was 15' wide.   Where we sat, I could've folded a paper football and flicked it to hit the artists on the catwalk--we were that close, with Joey and Caleb taking the two seats closest to the stage and catwalk.  Mysteriously, there were two seats right beside the catwalk saying 'Reserved for tour Pastor'....

...and that was the dude who was now leading me and the two kids backstage.

* * *

I was in shock, probably the most since the time I won 9th in the state in science competition when I was in 8th grade.  I was dumbly following these folks, while Caleb's mom, Christine, hurried to give me her camera.  Her camera was a black Nikon, and I'd never used it before.  Honestly, I hadn't used *any* camera other than a smartphone camera in a very long time.

So we get about halfway there, and a 300lb bouncer collars me and asks what I'm doing, asking to see my pass badge. "Uh, I'm following that guy," I said, pointing at the pastor dude.  He sort of rolled his eyes (guess the guy does this sort of thing alot?) and waved me on.  Ten paces later, I found myself in a small group surrounding Jamie Grace herself, resplendent in her stage garb of a coat, pants and cowgirl boots.

She was very gracious as a fumbled with the camera and got a shot of her hugging Caleb and Joey, even offering me tips on how to work the camera.  I was all thumbs, but I held down my panic of not getting a shot and finally squeezed one off.  Thanks to the miracles of autofocus, autoflash, and auto everything else it came out.

Pastor dude: "Come one...let's see if Toby's backstage."  Shock level 12.

So, we open the door to 'backstage' which was the area under the E-Rupption-Zone in Rupp, and it was a stark, flourescent lit area with ping-pong tables and people generally hanging out and having fun.  The members of OBB were playing ping-pong and laughing with megawatt smiles, and sitting cross-legged on a folding riser amid two others was....TobyMac.

Pastor dude calls Toby over.  "Toe-buh, I just wanted to bring these little fellers back;  this little man here (Caleb) looked like he was gonna wet himself when you came out with Jamie just now."  

Toby was very low-key and greeted the boys with a big smile and took a picture with them, signing Caleb's shirt and Joey's TM-logo'd cap we'd purchased just an hour before.  I got the pic and stumbled out a "Thanks alot! See you later." and shook his hand.

By way of explanation, Toby Mac and his cohorts--Jamie Grace, Mandissa, etc.--are basically the ongoing soundtrack of Chez Combs.  We like to rock pretty hard, and Whitney's been a TobyMac fan since the DC Talk days.  So, walking away I realized something.

I'm a dead man.  Whitney's never going to forgive me--an interloper--for getting back here and meeting TobyMac. 

"Joe," I croaked as we walked towards the exit of backstage.

"Yeah,"  his eyes shone.  He was loving this.

"I'm a dead man.  You're mom's gonna kill me."

"Yes.  Yes, she is," Ah, Phineas and Ferb phrasology--how to know we Combs's are paying attention.

::sigh::

So, we get back, and I show the pictures and everyone that could hear us or understand our wild gesticulations over the Sidewalk Prophets set going on was hugely congratulatory.  I saw a wash of emotions on Whitney's face--excitement, gladness, and disappointment--but honestly I was still in shock.  I sat out the whole Sidewalk Prophet's set and just processed what had happened.

* * *

As the evening wore on, the bands got bigger and louder--Red had enough pyrotechnics to bring down the place, and Matthew West was the consummate showman.

Then TobyMac came on.

Understand, when he took the stage, there'd been music for nearly 5 hours.  We'd seen loud, we'd seen hip-hop, we'd seen glam-scream-punk.    By about 2 songs in, I'd forgotten this was anything but a TobyMac concert.  That's no dig on the other bands; in particular, Royal Tailor was great with a super showman frontman, a rocking rhythm section, and a lead guitarist with Van Halen-esque chops.  It's just Toby and his 'Diverse City' band was that good.

I mean, they were all over the place, and we were about 3 feet away:  Full Drumline treatment, choreography, and a great DJ holding court in a 40 foot tower above the stage.  Toby walked out in the crowd, did some slow stuff, and he made sure everyone knew this was about Christ and our Lord, not him.  There were perfect tempo changes from frenetic and loud to soft.  

I hadn't really noticed, but Pastor Dude had rejoined his seats adjacent to the catwalk, and he tapped me on the shoulder,  "Would your boys and your wife like to join Toby onstage for the last song?"

"YES!!!!"

Two thoughts: "I wish I had a real camera."  "I'm so glad Whitney's getting to do this."

So, they move out and head to the wings of the stage, and Kelsey and I prepare to take pictures, me with Whitney's iPhone 4S.  My Galaxy Rugby pro hadn't gotten a full charge the night before, and it hadn't made it past the photo I took above.

They last song rolled, and people swarmed the stage, jumping in rhythm to the music, Whitney throwing goats from her upraised right hand as she headbanged through the number, and Joey looking as joyful as I've ever seen.

Then Joey got to ride home in the backseat of our Fusion, between the Dutch girl and the Norwegian girl.

Cue the Wonder Years theme.

Fricking awesome.

Selling FUD Doesn't Sell

I hear this today as a planted sales question:

"Why shouldn't I just use an Open Source solution instead of [my company's dooflotchy]?"

So help me, this is what I recall as being what the speaker wanted the salesperson to respond.

Well, first of all, you get what you pay for.  Would you really want to trust your sensitive data to a piece of Open Source?  We will support and stand behind our solution, and you have every opportunity to influence the product roadmap if you go with us.

Yeah, I didn't really make it past the first two sentences either.  Of the last two, I have no complaints.  Of the first two I listened in disbelief.  What is this?  A 1997 Microsoft pamphlet?

Let me be as clear as possible:   If you lead with that, you will lose.  Selling anyone on fear unless the fear is real is a losing proposition.

Also, categorically, you're wrong.   You get much MORE than you pay for with alost any software you  buy, or (these days) that you download from the internet for free.  I say this typing on Blogger (free) in Google Chrome (free) on my Mac (pay) that's based upon BSD (public domain Open Source), tethered to my Android phone (pay) that runs android OS (Open Source).

If you're using technology today, you're using Open Source.  Get over yourself.

Reflections on Reflections of what started my Car addiction

I remember distinctly being in Don Napier's 6th grade Language Arts class in Sebastian Middle School in Jackson, KY and getting one of those writing assignments everyone hates.  

Write an essay arguing a position.

It was the early days of the Kentucky Education Reform Act in Kentucky.  The Supreme Court of Kentucky (SCOK) had decided that the education system in Kentucky was unconstitutional, that our perennial position just above Mississippi on every aptitude test was not good enough, so out with the old, in with the new.

Write More! Went the mandate.  We'll no longer grade you on objective things (neatness, grammar, spelling, content) but on subjective things called a "writing portfolio."  Thus, prompt like the genius nugget above.

Let me put it further in context:  I was writing this paper out of sheer boredom.  A blizzard raged outside, an honest-to-God, Minnesota worthy 4-5 feet of snow with drifts.  It was so bad my Dad stayed in our tiny, 1000-square-foot ranch house for 3 days, a feat not repeated since, unless he had a fever > 102.

So what to write...what to write...CARS!

I had a love affair with cars that I can absolutely give you the time and place for.  It was August 1991, I'd just gotten glasses to solve my extreme nearsightedness, and I found myself facing the magazine rack at Winn-Dixie (sign scrawled: "This is not a library.  Buy something.").  This was the cover I faced

This was the article

Patrick Bedard would go on to bore me to death in years to come, with articles about how airbags killed people, antilock brakes didn't work, and any sort of 'alternative fuel' was a charlatan's game.  But this article, this was pure LOVE here.  It was dangerous, it was unsettling, it was like I was there, racing a Ferrari and winning.

It was car POV Porn.  I would remain in possession of this issue of C&D and remain a faithful subscriber for 20 years until all I knew and loved about the publication was dead.  When I got married and moved out of my apartment to a house, the C&D collection went to a recycler.

So there, facing my Gateway 2000 486DX2/50Mhz with it's unfillable 200MB hard drive and copy of Wordperfect, I new what I had to write:  A screed about why I preferred cars that could turn, accelerate, and brake, and why all the idiots buying land yachts and that newfangled Ford Explorer were...idiots.  How driving was something transcendent, something that was a privilege that represented a melding of a driver and a machine.   I'd watched Ayrton Senna.  I knew what that sort of pairing meant.

I got an A on the paper, with a snarky comment from Mr. N that 'My son is the same as you; I fear for his life when he gets a Driver's license."  Cars, then, remained my passion undimmed from that day to this.

And they're dying, not with a bang, but with a whimper.  

But that's a story for another day.

Some New Years' Resolutions

The other day, I found myself wallowing a tad, and I cried out to God, simply: "God, please help me."

At the time, I was writing in my journal, some pretty negative, emotionally-charged stuff, like:

1. I feel like a failure as a husband.
2. I feel like a failure as a father.
3. My career isn't working out the way I really would like.  I'm certainly duller than I was in 2010, and I feel overwhelmed all the time.
4. I'm not coding regularly anymore.

Writing the above, I literally stopped in mid sentence and immediately wrote these words:

So, fuck it.  What am I going to DO?  Blah, bah, blah.  I've been here, what, a dozen times before?  What the fuck to do?

Here's (part of) what I plan to do.

1. I think it's time to step out of small group leadership.
2. I strongly think going off Facebook+ again would be healthy.  I'm tired of seeing all the happy people of the world when I'm sad, and at the same time, I'm wasting inordinate amounts of time there when I could be working, interacting with my family, or learning.
3. I will read the bible on my Kindle.  Every day.  
4. I will write code every day, even if it's just one function for fun.  Real code, not some bullshit UML.
5. I will stop watching TV, period.  I can listen to basketball and football games on the radio easily enough, and I can watch movies and programs with the family on Amazon.com via Prime Instant Video easily enough.  And news I can get from my twitter stream.
6. I will take walks everyday no matter the weather.  I'm tired of being sedentary.
7. I will give gifts without expectations upon the recipient.
8. I will by myself sufficient clothes and take care of them.
9. I will schedule time to visit my parents at least once per month.

So far, I've got #1 and #2 in process.  I've sent my resignation as Small Group leader to my pastor, and I've deactivated my FB account.  I've also taken security measures against my online accounts using LastPass so I don't keep using the same 3 passwords everywhere.

Also, as the year dawns, I'm in a considerable amount of debt so my (realistic) goal is to have all the Medial and CC expenses paid off by end of 2013, leaving us with just the Fusion and Mortgage payment.  It will be tough, especially given the economic climate at the moment, but hey, it's a goal.  I have a great wife who's great with money, so I don't doubt we can accomplish it.

Lastly, this article hit me square between the eyes, especially its judgement that America is a hyper-competitive yet complacent place where we have no concept of relationship.  I don't know how to get there, but I'd like to have more and stronger relationships at the end of next year than as I write this.

On the Breathitt County School system

Few things in this world make me fighting mad.  But then, there's this.

http://www.kentucky.com/2012/12/07/2435663/rare-state-takeover-of-school.html

This is my hometown.  This where my formative years were spent.   And, because of idiotic graft, nepotism, and malfeasance, this is where my blood relations remain trapped in a cycle of hopelessness compounded by cronyism, intent on keeping power (what pathetic excuse for power it is!) for themselves.

Were I Dante, there'd be some Terza Rima regarding Arch Turner and his ilk's future in Hell, but words fail me.

WHY ARE THERE NOT RIOTS IN THE STREETS OF JACKSON?!

What sort of combination of (Apocryphal, yet apt) "Boiled Frog" syndrome and Stockholm Syndrome exists on the Middle Fork of the Kentucky River that tolerates this?   Yes, I understand a large percentage of people find primary or secondary employment from the school system or the (almost as nepotistic!) District 11 of the Ky DOT.  Everything is political, and being on the "outs" is a 1-way ticket to welfare.  

Still yet, I hope this state intervention enflames the populace to take back their school board and keep them on a short leash henceforth.

On Being Afraid

I'm afraid quite a bit.  It's getting on my nerves.

I understand I shouldn't be afraid, both from a Biblical and a rational perspective.  I have been redeemed, and life's never been better.  Nevertheless, that's not really helping me at the moment.

I'm going to try and apply something I learned about grief:  You have to grieve.  You can't avoid or deny it, or you will grieve at the most inconvenient time possible.  Likewise, fear seems something you must face and give name to, then you can move past it.  So, here goes.

• I'm afraid of being alone.  Years of no peers and only cattle to talk to will do that.
• I'm not afraid of dying, but I am afraid of outliving my wife.
• I'm afraid of my own carnal nature--my selfishness, laziness, apathy.
• I'm afraid my ADD will ruin my life, despite my best efforts.
• I'm afraid of my temper, and what I'm capable of when I'm mad.
• I'm afraid being abandoned by those I love--wife, kids, friends.   I see or have seen all those as an inevitability.  Basically, my judgemental self concluded that if anyone knew me--REALLY knew me--the only logical conclusion they'd arrive at would be to reject me.
• I'm afraid of being incompetent at my work.

As I said, the above are irrational fears.  Here's the kicker though...most of them have affected my reality, in some cases becoming a self-fulfilling prophesy.

• Of being alone: I get so clingy, controlling, and paranoid that I push people away.
• Of outliving my wife: I'm not taking care of my body, not one iota.  (Not saying that's the only reason!)
• Of my own carnal nature: I've overworked or overstressed myself to the point of...apathy and laziness.
• Of my ADD: Well, working on that one, certainly, but for years I'd do anything to avoid overstimulation and acting-out randomly in public settings, especially meetings @ work
• Of my temper: I get mad at myself for getting mad, feeling impotent rage, and then...yeah, goes nowhere good.
• Of being abandoned:  Not viewing myself as lovable, I've disdained and treated those that try to love me as deficient, just for choosing to love me.  End result is a self-fulfilling prophesy.
• Incompetence: Obsession with knowing "everything" has me knowing increasingly....nothing.

So that's where it's at, me on my own couch.  I shared the above with my accountability group yesterday and the leader gave me this story that I'll share with you. 

So, are you familiar with Louisville's football coach?  Charlie Strong is his name.  He's brought Louisville Cardinals football to a great level.  At yet, when you go on the fan message boards, all you see are people fretting: 'He might leave!'  Literally, unless they hear him say 'I will stay at Louisville for the rest of my career, without question,' they won't be satisfied.  They don't show up to all the games, and they jeer him for being irresolute, thinking he may leave for a better coaching job at one of the SEC schools.

You know what?  We're going to the Sugar Bowl this year.  The f****** Sugar Bowl.  Major bowl game, national exposure, and $10 million for the Athletic programs at UofL, all because of Charlie Strong's leadership.  If you worry about what might be, you won't enjoy the reality of what is.  Don't obsess about what might be.  Take a look at what's bothering your and keep it in perspective of what you have.

 In short, enjoy the Sugar Bowl.

So LORD, thank You for all that You blessed me with.  Thank You for my wife and my beautiful children.  Thank You for the ability to earn money for my family doing something I (usually) like doing. Thank You for people that love me no matter what, and people that love me enough to tell me I'm wrong and encourage me when I'm right.

In short, thank You for the Sugar Bowl, and giving me at least a moment of perspective where I enjoy it.  Amen.

Predictable Frustration

http://www.kalzumeus.com/2011/10/28/dont-call-yourself-a-programmer/

Engineers are hired to create business value, not to program things:  Businesses do things for irrational and political reasons all the time (see below), but in the main they converge on doing things which increase revenue or reduce costs.  Status in well-run businesses generally is awarded to people who successfully take credit for doing one of these things.  (That can, but does not necessarily, entail actually doing them.)  The person who has decided to bring on one more engineer is not doing it because they love having a geek around the room, they are doing it because adding the geek allows them to complete a project (or projects) which will add revenue or decrease costs.  Producing beautiful software is not a goal.  Solving complex technical problems is not a goal.  Writing bug-free code is not a goal.  Using sexy programming languages is not a goal.  Add revenue.  Reduce costs.  Those are your only goals.

Peter Drucker — you haven’t heard of him, but he is a prophet among people who sign checks — came up with the terms Profit Center and Cost Center.  Profit Centers are the part of an organization that bring in the bacon: partners at law firms, sales at enterprise software companies, “masters of the universe” on Wall Street, etc etc.  Cost Centers are, well, everybody else.  You really want to be attached to Profit Centers because it will bring you higher wages, more respect, and greater opportunities for everything of value to you.  It isn’t hard: a bright high schooler, given a paragraph-long description of a business, can usually identify where the Profit Center is.  If you want to work there, work for that.  If you can’t, either a) work elsewhere or b) engineer your transfer after joining the company.

Engineers in particular are usually very highly paid Cost Centers, which sets MBA’s optimization antennae to twitching.  This is what brings us wonderful ideas like outsourcing, which is “Let’s replace really expensive Cost Centers who do some magic which we kinda need but don’t really care about with less expensive Cost Centers in a lower wage country”.  (Quick sidenote: You can absolutely ignore outsourcing as a career threat if you read the rest of this guide.)  Nobody ever outsources Profit Centers.  Attempting to do so would be the setup for MBA humor.  It’s like suggesting replacing your source control system with a bunch of copies maintained on floppy disks.

(emphasis above in original)

If I could give a protege of mine only one piece of advice, it'd be the above.  The fact that I (effectively) work for a cost center is a root cause of much of the crap I complain about to whomever will stand still. Simple enough, doofus (speaking to myself there): If you work for a for-profit business, find yourself a part that, you know, MAKES A PROFIT.

Corollary: Try to find a position where they began making a profit--or at least pursued the same--lest the mentality of a cost center pervade every decision and neuter the profit you're after.

On My Anniversary, to My Wife

"For seven years...."

"For SEVEN years...."

"FOR SEVEN years, Harold...."

Just as a child knows when his full given name comes from his flustered parent's mouth, a husband knows when his wife starts naming the time they've been married, he's in trouble.

Well, honey, for SEVEN YEARS tomorrow...

...you've stood by me.

...you've watched me break, and grow, and break again.

...you've watched me struggle, and doubt, and blame, and generally resist any form of responsibility or accountability.

...you've watched addictions and off-kilter brain chemistry steal me away from you.

And for SEVEN YEARS, you've remained.  And you've loved me, even when that 'love' is telling me no and getting me help and screaming right back at me louder until I'll listen.  

You've born me two beautiful girls, both in the most difficult way possible, sacrificing your body's long-term well-being in the process.

You've seen me fed something besides rice and hamburger helper.  

You are THE wonderful person God had for me in this life, and when I think I'm away from you physically or emotionally, I feel like half of me is gone, like a shell of myself.

So I'm glad tomorrow will be a day we'll be together.  No matter how much money we have, or what my job is, you are--and have always been--part of my REAL life.  Times are hard, and look to get harder.  Reading the back of The Book, we both see how this story ends.

There is, however, no one I'd like to face that future with, than you.

Love always,

Harold