Fox News is headlining this story from the front page. I’m not sure how this reflects on A&M, but this thing has definitely reached mythic proportions.

Regular readers are all too familiar with my late night Wal-Mart adventures. I’ve cut back on these trips for several reasons, not the least of which is the traffic volume at the Bryan, Texas Wal-Mart Supercenter is roughly twice that of the Dickson City, Pennsylvania store. Tonight was no exception as I arrived to a chaotic, packed scene at about 10:00 pm. As I was picking through the apples, I noticed that the produce guy (and I’ll save the commentary on a 60-year old produce guy working at 10pm on Saturday night for another day) kept looking at me. I assumed I was either in his way or he thought I was going to jack some apples. When we finally locked eyes, he stared at me for a couple of seconds and then laughed and said, "Oh jeez man, I thought zhou was the guy from The Weakest Link."

Strangely, I’d heard that one before. A couple of years ago, some students at BBC told me that I looked just like the host of the game show, The Weakest Link. At that time I was only familiar with the dour British woman who hosted the primetime version of the show several years ago. They told me there was now a syndicated daytime version hosted by, well, by me. It was a few weeks before I saw the guy, and I forgot about it pretty quickly. I’m now on the other side of the US, and the graveyard shift produce guy at Wal-Mart says the same thing. Strange. Tell me what you think…

This is not a joke. Unbelievable.

There seems to be some legitimate confusion about my last post. In case anyone still doesn’t get it, that’s the latest addition to our family, about 6.5 weeks old. We anticipate an external arrival in late July, and we are very excited.

In other news, one of our regulars is a new pop. Todd and his wife Sara (college friends) welcomed their son Walker to the world this past Saturday. Congratulations to all three of you.

I remain amazed at the stunning and overwhelming gift of life in all its varied manifestations. We are surrounded by so many who are having/adopting/praying for/raising children, and it has yet to get old or uninteresting or unremarkable.

Speaking of conception and related matters, male laptop users beware. The good news is I am a regular laptop user and…well, let’s just say I’ve apparently managed to dodge this one. I will, however, be a little more conscious of positioning after reading this.

For family. Amy, my gentle, strong, loving, faithful help-mate and best friend, life-giving mother to Aiden and our future children, and a hot mama who will always be out of my league. Aiden, my beautiful, charming, innocent, keen, spirited two-year old son who melts me with blue eyes and changes me with hugs, kisses, and a trusting extended "Hand, Daddy" as we walk. Mom and Dad, who love me more than I know and love my wife and son more than I ever imagined. Holly, a giving, adventurous mother-in-law who raised my wife to be the prize that she is and welcomes me like a son. Britt and Will, brothers who are more than brothers – fast friends, defenders, and role models. Beth, Stacy, and Fay – the sisters I never had and never knew I missed until they came along; beautiful women, each in their own way, all vibrant, loving, and room-changing. Tim, a brother-in-law I can talk football with…what else can a guy ask for? Brandon, Emily, and Cade, the bright, fun kids who I don’t see enough and who make me Uncle Thad. Many cousins, uncles, and aunts who have been brothers, sisters, parents, and friends in so many ways. And a 92-year-old grandmother who will endure a miserably painful three hour car ride (each way) just so she can sit in the same chaotic room with her legacy (at least fifty of us) this week. I can only aspire to appreciate family as she does.

For community. Particularly our new spiritual family at Community Church, and especially the folks who have given of themselves so generously in recent weeks as we’ve joined them in this journey. Kings, Stoltzes, Whites, Reeves, Fogles, Oelzes, Gibbs, Anne, Nicole, Joneses, and all the rest. Thankfully our love for you is not contingent on my ability to remember all of your names at 1a.m. Thanks for welcoming us to your lives.

For friends, far and near. McCallums, Brocks, Stinsons, Armstrongs, Moores, Smiths, Scott, Bowers, Brad, Colleen, Jessica, Abby, Manuels, Villanos, Gattornas, Bruce, Todd, Matt, Joe, Dr. Jayhawk, and David, just to name some who have invested in us – time, words, thought, prayer, gifts, interest – and taken care of us in recent months. And, of course, for many more who aren’t named but who continue to love and befriend us through the years.

For provision. A Pathfinder to rid us of the wagon (and borrowed cars to keep us both on the road), a little unimpressive apartment, a comfortable bed, enough food to make me start buying paints with a 32 waist, jobs to keep the lights on, toys and books for Aiden, enough extra to make any complaining utter nonsense, and just enough privation to keep me from loving the world and its stuff any more than I already do.

For simple pleasures. The fan beside my bed, sleeping (and not sleeping) with a hot mama, Aggie football, not having to fly cross-country for the holidays, Seinfeld on DVD, words, a blog and all of you who read it to soak up the excess words, a new U2 cd, large Dr. Peppers from Sonic, Shipley glazed, Texas, Texas food, Fall (even the Texas version), free tickets, wireless internet, shrimp, late night epiphanies, a DVR, weekends, and a never-ending list of moments to remind me that I’m alive.

For grace, freedom, and life that is truly life. For faith that, if it isn’t given to me, doesn’t exist by power of my will, intellect, or imagination. For kinship with the Divine and the human. For frailty and for hope.

I’m thankful. You? Tell us about it.

For those interested in such things, How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb is available for legal listening (but not downloading) at U2.com. I’m about half-way through it, and I’m really enjoying it so far.

Last night as I was going to sleep I thought of something really funny to post. It was funny enough that I started laughing just laying there thinking about it in the dark silence of our bedroom. I debated getting up to make myself a note so I didn’t forget, but the delicate balance of cognitive and physical stimulation and sleep initiation was enough to deter me. Instead, I made an effort to make a reliable mental note of the funny thing so I could share it with you today. Unfortunately, the aforementioned delicate balance also caused me to limit the amount of cognition invested in the mental note. Too much thought and memory etching and I could be vomited back into a state of wide-eyed insomnia. I chose much needed sleep over maximum funny blog memory effort. Ultimately, you’re paying for my choice. Sadly, I can’t remember what was so funny last night. If I could, it would go here. And you would laugh. And laugh and laugh.

Instead, here’s something funny: One of the two ladies I share an office with started listening to music on headphones at her desk yesterday. It’s mostly black gospel, which I know in part because I’ve heard it without the headphones and in part because she sings a random word or phrase loudly every few minutes. We’ll all be quietly working away at our desks, when out of nowhere Brenda will, with much more volume than she intends, give us a semi-melodic, "Jeeeesus!" A few minutes later we’ll get, "Mmmm…mmmm…wohh-oh-oh-oh!!" If she were listening to her music out loud, this would not be nearly so funny. However, the fact that her very enthusiastic and involved outbursts pierce the otherwise musically-deprived void of sound for those of us in the office make them very humorous.

So I know it’s not really funny for you, but it is for me, and I’m hoping that typing about funny things will help me remember the funny thing I forgot. It’s not working so far. I have to work.

After nearly a decade of cosmic confusion and disorder, the Chaos Period drew to a close today. The inversion of rule and exception has been diagnosed and, in all likelihood, cured. So it is. So it shall be.

I’ve been taking a lot of handouts lately. As of tomorrow afternoon, I will have attended the following three events without having spent a penny on any of them:

• Saturday, November 6: OU 42  Texas A&M 35 – Despite the loss, one of my top 3 experiences at Kyle field. Maybe the loudest and most raucous game I’ve experienced there, and I’m suffering from at least 15% hearing loss from a couple of particularly loud games in the mid-90’s. Thanks to the local sports radio station for pulling my name out of a box and giving me free tickets to this one.
• Thursday, November 11: Lyle. If the Aggie game was my baptism back into Aggieland, an evening with Lyle was my baptism back into Texas. Lyle is Texas music and culture in a $2,000 suit; somehow simultaneously folksy and sophisticated. His large band was in ultra cosmic form, and the predictable excellence was capped off with a six song gospel set driven by a black gospel group who had a little chuch up in ‘ere. It was, as the kids say, off da hook. Thanks to my cousin David for unexpectedly dropping these tickets on us two hours before show time (and my cousin John and his wife for canceling to our great fortune).
• Saturday, November 13: Texas Tech at Texas A&M. Commentary withheld out of respect for several readers and pending further developments. Thanks to Todd for hooking me up with these, and to his brother-in-law Brad for being so generous with his tickets.

We weren’t having any doubts about our move here, but little "welcome home" gifts like these aren’t hurting matters. The Lord works in mysterious ways, eh? I’m thinking about establishing a charitable foundation for future donations of this sort — maybe Thad’s Ticket Trust. If you feel the need to rid yourself of the burden of tickets to interesting, entertaining, or enlightening events, give us a call. We’re hear to lighten your load.