Why I Need A Girlfriend:

This post is for those of you who thought that I wouldn't be able to cook for myself when I moved out. Well, I showed you? Read on.

So it was around 11:15 when inspiration struck. I decided that some bacon sounded really good. I stumbled into the kitchen, flipped on the lights, and grabbed some bacon from the freezer. I popped it in the microwave to defrost and while I was waiting the wheels began to turn. I saw my bag of tortillas and flippantly thought bout all of the things bacon could do in a tortilla. And so, the bacondilla© was born.

And now, you can clog your very own arteries with my step-by-step instructions.

Step one:

Throw some bacon in a pan, on high heat (turn down slightly when sizzling becomes so fierce that you fear for you life). Continue flipping until the perfect level of charredness is achieved. There should be a nice pool of grease in the bottom of the pan. When finished, leave pan on low and remove bacon. DO NOT REMOVE GREASE.

Step two:

Lay out a tortilla with two Kraft Singles and lay your charred bacon over, then lay two more slices of cheese on top. Finally, add the second tortilla on top.

Step three: 

Put your bacondilla into the pan and crank the heat up. Flip after 20 seconds or so, and repeat on opposite side. Remove from pan onto plate.

Step four: 

Let stand for at least 2 or 3 minutes. That bacon grease is still hot smarty pants.

Step five:

Devour.

So Long

Three words I spoke as I walked out the front door to leave Redding behind:

"So Long Redding"

As I climbed into my car, I thought more about these words.

So long have I awaited this day

So long have I enjoyed the friends here

So long have teachers, mentors, friends, and family members prepared me for this day

So long have I imagined living elsewhere

So long have I been here...

So long Redding.

At it Again

So it has been a while since I've gotten to paint and I've finally gotten back at it. This thanks in part to being commissioned to do two pieces. Commission work is awesome because I get to paint, knowing that it will pay for itself. 

Anyhow, the first one is kind of a painting of my last blog, check it out if you have yet to read it.

Its called: So Distant

The second one was a lot harder to get started but it really came together as I kept going.

Along For The Ride

In other news, I am moving on Sunday. I am so excited. For those of you who don't know, I'll be living and working in inner-city Oakland with World Impact.

It is an exciting season of life in which I am finally realizing a call and following. Plus, I get to leave Redding and experience something new.

When It Begins

So, today we got up at 4:50. We being Joe, my Mom, and Mike... oh, and me (although, I can't positively say that I was technically awake). Anyhow, we hopped in the van and started off down I-5. Oh yeah, I'm going to Hawaii for a week. 

The point of me tell ing you this is that I witnessed something that my lifestyle doesn't generally allow me to... sunrise. At first I looked eastward and saw a glow coming up... it was pink and orange. It was distant. I began to think about it. I could almost feel the curve of the earth and imagine Minneapolis, Chicago, and New York. I could envision the city. The hustle and bustle, the pretentious business people waiting for their assistants to bring them their Grande Soy Ristretto Lattes. It was a connecting moment. I looked to the east and dreamt of the future and all it held. I had a sense of bigness. The world was big at that moment.

Flash forward 14 minutes. I looked back to the east and had a sense of smallness. As the massive ball of fire (our sun) came into view, a small barn stood next to a slightly less small silo and intruded into the view. If only I had photographed the moment. You would know what I meant.

I guess this 15 minute span of moments kind of represents my view of beauty. I see beauty in bigness. The world of people. An interconnected group of capitalists, peons, liberals, conservatives, moms, and grandparents. That is beauty. But also, I find beauty in the simplicity of the man who owns the barn and the silo. The man who complains about the noise of traffic while savoring the oatmeal his wife of 47 years made for him... just like every morning.

What a Blessing.