Fresh from the Heavenly Choir

It has been a long-standing habit of mine to sing made-up songs at random throughout the day. My lyrics gradually improved from "I love Delores...I love Delores...I love Delores" to more sophisticated compositions such as "I really, really, really, really, really love Delores".

I was holding Abigail, singing about how happy we were to be a family when she started singing along! She was cooing and puckering her lips as she sang with adorable discord. I felt so happy I could burst. She is a delightful young woman, ready to play stick-out-your-tongue games at a moment's notice. What could a new dad want more?

I feel very lucky to be a dad. At any rate, I'm off to go sing in our little family choir.

They Found Me

We were surprised a week or so ago to receive a credit card offer from Capital One. A credit card offer, you say? This was not just any credit card offer. It was addressed to K B Rimington Productions, Attn: Keith Rimington.

I wondered: How did they know I dream of having a software business called K-B-Rimington Productions? The offer read, Congratulations on your new company. As near as I could tell, the phrase only existed meaningfully in the intro movie of the Battleship game I wrote for a college assignment.

I was doing some account management on our DNS when it came to me. When we set up kbrimington.net, I was particularly daydreamy. I registered the account under K-B-Rimington Productions and listed myself as the contact. That must be how Capital One found me.

Sneaky fellas, aren't they?

Harvesting the Flowerpot Garden

In June, we planted our own flowerpot garden. We enjoyed watching all the little plants grow. I also came to realize that chives are a kind of onion. That meant that the pot that was half onions and half chives...yeah, it was all chives.

At length, we harvested our crop. We had enough onion to garnish one salad, and enough basil for one pot of something basil-ly. We were richly rewarded for our vigilance. My shoulders still ache from the effort.

I Eat Dortons

We spent the weekend with the Dorton clan to view the General Conference of our church. After dinner on Sunday, I was playing with the nieces and nephews. The game: Let's pretend Keith is a monster and sneak past him. I lumbered around like an overgrown ape, each niece and nephew skirting by just out of reach.

In the best monster voice I could muster I cried out, "I eat little Dortons!" 

Then Erick, like a prince among his subjects, strides past me declaring, "I'm not a little Dorton. I'm a Romero. You can't eat me!"

He showed me.