What I’m Reading (i.e. Some Reasons I’m not Blogging). . .

Shelfari: Book reviews on your book blog

On Being Misunderstood and Books for Children

So, I have had little time to BLOG, and I thought my previous post was a clever solution to this issue for several reasons. First, it proves to the 3 people who read this that I am still alive (although I hope that news of my death might make it into Abby's BLOG, but there's a lot going on with the girls, so. . . ) Secondly, a dynamic countdown "timer" changes everyday, giving said readers something new to look at when they visit. Thirdly, and I assumed most obviously, the post expressed 3 great passions of mine: my existence, cattle, and space exploration.

Obviously, I was mistaken. So, please entertain yourself with the following clip by Brian Regan (for the next couple months). No disrespect to the aspiring children's authors out there, but man is this true!

In Case Anyone is Wondering . . .

5 Years

I realize I cannot say enough about the woman who agreed to marry me 5 years ago, and I overuse the words "amazing" and "wonderful," even though she is. The truth is I find it easy to write about some things, but when it comes to writing about Abby, it's not so much that I cannot find the words as it is the words may never end. She was born to be a mother, yet she could easily be successful at anything else she wants (and is). She is the person who holds this family together. She is an amazing cook, and even the one thing she makes that I don't like is amazing according to everyone else. She has impeccable taste in everything. She looks good in anything. She loves me even when I break my glasses and have to wear prescription lab glasses around the house. She has given me beautiful daughters. It's not official, but I strongly suspect that she's the smart one in this relationship, and I'm okay with that (as long as it remains unofficial). She makes me want to be successful. She loves when Dateline or 20/20 feature true crime stories, and although they largely make me nervous, I love how ardently she likes them and insists that we watch them together. She once broke a small bone in her foot doing a silly dance in our first apartment, and I learned that it wasn't the first time. She has great friends and is a great friend. I love when she and Annie and Amelia are waiting on the porch for me at then end of the day. She reads really good books, which encourages me to do the same. She craves deeper knowledge of God, which encourages me to do the same. I still feel extremely proud that she is with me when we're out on a date. She enjoys eating outside, and the thought of someplace warm year round makes her happy. She cannot stand when someone has their windshield wipers on even 2 seconds after the rain has stopped -- I found this out on our second date. She wants to be adored -- I found this out on our fourth. She saved my life 5 1/2 years ago, and she's given me a life that the Phil of then doesn't deserve. My girls make this a truly wonderful life.

Below are some pictures of my beautiful (!!!) wife taken 5 years ago in our first apartment. They were taken by Lauren Carpenter (Thank you Lauren -- you're an incredible photog.).

Thanks for who you are, Abby. I adore you now more than ever!

On Sayings that Seem Deep

The following statements have been uttered around the Mullins household.  At first glance, they might seem thoughtfully crafted and deep.  In reality they come from nothing and they mean nothing.  Feel free to use, though.

I wear my sunglasses at night to keep out the darkness.

                                                                          -- S. Price

Clarity is King.

               -- Anonymous

Say Hello, Wave Goodbye

This is the title from a David Gray song, and I'm pretty sure it's about a breakup, so it's not really appropriate for this post. However, as we have been in the process of moving for what seems like months, the chorus has popped into my head from time to time.

We are now finally saying goodbye to what has been one of greatest hand-of-God blessings of our marriage. Two years ago, we were facing a decision point as our days of "house sitting" for Abby's sister Beth and her husband were coming to a close (another huge blessing, and another story). I was personally seeking God's will more than I ever had before, and not just because of the impending decision. I had decided then (was convicted then) that I was involved in too many things that were frankly against what God would have me do (a euphemism for there was sin in my life), and repenting of that seemed to open a floodgate -- it was as if God was waiting for me to recognize that it was time to get serious, time to start a new phase in the life of our young family, one where I had to stop pretending that "Freedom in Christ" meant "Freedom to do Whatever I Want because I'm Saved."

I know no other way of describing the path we were led down, because looking back, there is no doubt that repentance led to opportunity, and opportunity in this case was the chance to work with a youth group at Highland Community Church. I had never dreamed of or aspired to be a youth minister, and would not have chosen Highland if I were doing the choosing. Yet, here the opportunity was presented, virtually out of the blue. The timing was unbelievable, the timing was incredible, the timing was God's. We had been GIVEN a place to live. . . exactly when we needed it.

At that time, Highland began a search for a full time minister. My dad agreed to begin a stint as interim preacher, one that lasted 2 years. This by itself was a huge blessing, as I got the chance to be a part of my dad's ministry at Highland. When I was young, I largely rejected the idea of "youth groups," and in typical preacher's kid style, I did not appreciate the opportunity to be a part of a church where my father was the preacher. Now, I've had the opportunity to be a larger part of it, and it has been precious to me.

The search for a new minister is now over, and God has brought us a dynamic and enthusiastic young minister named Ryan Montgomery. Now, we move onto a new phase, a new house, and a renewed sense of purpose for our church. We welcome whole-heartedly this new man of God, gladly passing off the keys to the house where Annie learned to walk and Amelia found her cry. We praise God for our new house, which seemed to have been built years ago with us in mind. I echo the line that my Annie loves to sing, acknowledging that we are still just passing through: "His grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home."

What if I approached my life . . .

. . . like Annie approaches hers?

The following scenarios might ensue:

Phillip:  Can I have a raise?

Boss: Well, it's just not possible at this time.  Our overhead costs have nearly doubled over the past few months, and we're trying to be conservative at this point so that we can be in a position to really take the company places after we patiently weather this economic downturn.  Let me assure you that you continue to be a valued part of this organization, and that we look forward to a bright future, of which you are an integral part. 

Phillip: Can I?

Boss:  I'm sorry, but let's get through this current period and then we can talk.  Don't you go sending your resume anywhere else though! 

Phillip: Can I?

Boss: I wish I could say yes, but as I explained. . .

Phillip: Can I though?

Boss: I'm trying to be . . .

Phillip: Can I?

Boss:  Not at this . . .

Phillip: Can I though?

Boss: No. . . I

Phillip: Cannnnn IIIIIIII?!! (Begins to cry)

Boss: No sir, you can go to your room if you want to cry, 'cause I don't want to listen to it.

 

Coworker: I've been asked to give you a brief update on the status of the project.  You may recall that . . .

Phillip: Can I do it?

Coworker: I'm sorry?

Phillip: I want to do it.

Coworker: Want to do what?

Phillip: I want to do it.

Coworker: I'm not sure I . . . 

Phillip: I want to do it.

Coworker: The presentation?

Phillip: Yeah.

Coworker: You want to do my presentation?

Phillip: I want to do it.

Coworker: I'm not sure I understand   . . .

Phillip: I want to do it by myself!

Coworker: Why do you want . . .

Phillip: I WANT TO DO IT BY MYSEEEEEEELLLLLFFF! (Begins to cry)

Boss: No sir, you can go to your room if you want to cry, 'cause I don't want to listen to it.

Nothing Better in the World . . .

. . . than these smiles. Man, I love being a dad.

On the Pursuit of a New Career

After watching Fox News this morning, I officially have a new career goal.  I want to be the guy who comes up with "clever" headlines for sports stories.  Fox ran the following headline in reference to last night's Detroit Pistons-Philly 76ers game:

"Philadelphia Clogs Pistons"

I know very little about engines, but I think we can all get the gist of the statement.   Still, I can only wonder at some of the rejected headlines:

"Pistons Need an Overhaul"

"Philly causes Pistons to Throw a Rod"

"Pistons Combust as Philly Spreads Smoothly"

Back to the point: if anyone knows how I can become this guy, please let me know.  I would also be willing to be the guy who is responsible for the scrolling stories at the bottom of the screen if that's what it takes to break into the business (Fox and others seem to have trouble in this dept as well).  A sample of my work is below.

"Suns fail to Shine as Spurs Stab"

"Suns Spurred to Lose"

"Dallas has the Salve for Hornets' Sting"

"Mavericks Raid the Hornets' Nest"

"Magic Casts Spell as Raptors Go Extinct"

(I know.  Skills like these are a gift and a curse.  But mostly, they're a gift.)

On Videos in the 80's with My Parents

               

I'm working and The Goonies is on in the background. What a great movie. It reminds me of some of the movies my parents and I would watch when we first got a VCR circa 1985(?). The Goonies was the first movie I ever saw with a curse word in it (e.g. when Chunk smashes his slushy against the window -- it may have been the first time I ever heard that word period -- I wish I was still as shocked to hear them in movies now).

Here are some of the VHS Gems that I remember renting during those days(by the way, at that time we rented movies from an old house in Sellersburg that had been converted into a video store -- I always felt a little like I wasn't supposed to be there, like I might take a wrong turn and stumble upon some guy sitting on his couch in his underwear eating a frozen dinner):

 

 

 

 

 

Kids build a spaceship from junkyard parts. Intergalactic adventure ensues.

 

 

An old man's house is slowly surrounded by frogs. . . for two hours.  I remember being dumbfounded rather than scared. Based on the cover, I can't imagine why my mom let me rent this. I guess she thought it was some sort of documentary.

 

 

I have no idea what this was about. I vaguely remember a burly guy with a beard and I'm pretty sure Savannah was an orphan.  A happy orphan, evidently

 

 

 

 

 

I don't recall watching this and thinking, "This is an amazing, unforgettable journey of humanity," as the cover claims, but I do remember thinking something along the lines of, "That man was in a block of ice and now he's not."  Although I specifically remember watching the beginning of this, I'm pretty sure I fell asleep about 20 minutes in, after the most important event had occurred (i.e. the thawing of the iceman).

 

I can't say which of the Pink Panther movies we rented, but I remember being severely disappointed that it wasn't a cartoon (I think the title sequence stars the cartoon Pink Panther).  I also remember my parents and some friends of theirs laughing at what I saw as unfunny people doing unfunny things; I distinctly remember asking my dad, "Is this supposed to be funny or what?"

He replied, "Or what."

After that enigmatic (although probably, in retrospect, fitting) answer, I remember quickly finding something else to do.   

 

 

Quote of the Day

"Phillip, we're going to need a barrette."

-Annie (a.k.a. Phillip's 2 yr-old daughter) to her daddy (a.k.a. "Phillip") while she was trying to eat applesauce and keep her hair out of her face at the same time.

On a Fading Opportunity

I'm beginning to wonder if I was mistaken in offering a prime bidding opportunity in this forum, as no one has yet stepped up to snag my one-of-a-kind, once-edible marvel. So, I must sweeten the deal (pun absolutely intended). To he or she who places the winning bid for the Kauai-shaped bran flake, I will throw in a mini wheat which is shaped like Colorado, and a mutant Lucky Charm marshmallow clover that bears a remarkable resemblance to Kramer from Seinfeld.

Plus, free shipping to Colorado and Hawaii.

On the Importance of a Hearty Breakfast - Part 2

"Why doesn't that happen to me?" It's a query we all find ourselves pondering from time to time when we observe the good fortune of others. Most recently, I found myself chanting this mantra as I read the tale of two Midwestern sisters who were fortunate enough to find a frosted corn flake shaped like the state of Illinois, and who were quickly cashing in on this discovery (see previous post). As I read my post on the subject, I cannot help but be ashamed of its tone, as I was, I now admit, experiencing a bit of jealousy at the find and its subsequent value.

That shame is amplified even now as I prepare to share with you the fact that I, too, have been showered with a similar blessing. That shame, though, cannot defeat the joy I have because of what I'm about to share. So, here goes . . .

When I read about the state-shaped flake (a true one-in-a-million, no one can deny), the initial fit of jealousy I experienced began to give way to a more subtle, slowly-building thought which increasingly gnawed at me throughout the day. Relentlessly, my mind kept wandering to my own pantry, to my own half-consumed box of Raisin Bran, to a certain something. Something I had seen (or had I?) while enjoying a well-balanced breakfast. A shape. What shape? A familiar shape. A unique shape. A valuable shape? Maybe.

To make a long story somewhat not as long, I could stand it no longer, and returned to the cereal box to silence the nagging thought once and for all. I was prepared to spend the better part of the day combing the box in search of the elusive, one-of-a-kind shape. However, and perhaps this is the most amazing aspect of the entire ordeal, I had to look no further than the very top of the box! There it was, the shape that had been torturing me for hours if not days. A flake shaped like, believe it or not, another piece of American land property! See for yourself!




For most people who see this it is immediately obvious which part of the U.S. this flake represents. However, for those of you out there who took siestas during geography class, I'll clue you in. What I have found is obviously the Hawaiian Island of Kauai. To be fair, it is not the entire archipelago of Hawaiian islands, and thus not technically a "state" but it is still an amazing representation of an important U.S. land mass.

Lest you think I'm posting this just to brag about my good fortune, let me dispel that. I am posting this now in order to let you, my friends, have the first opportunity to bid on this rare collectible before I post it on ebay (or contact Christie's or Sotheby's -- I haven't decided yet).

As for price, I want to be fair. The original Illinois corn flake is selling for well over $1000. But, come on, most corn flakes look like Illinois! Further, while Illinois may be known for corn, which admittedly adds a bit if irony to their find, Hawaii is known internationally as a prime locale for fun and frolicking in the sun, which is just better.

So with that in mind, and considering that this is open to friends and family only at this point, I would like to start this initial round of bidding at $2500*. Thanks for reading, and happy bidding!

*Hawaiian bidders please note that your actual cost will be based on the U.S.-Hawaiian exchange rate at the time the bid is placed.

On the Importance of a Hearty Breakfast

Below is a screen shot from an actual ebay auction item. If we can learn anything from this, it is that we all eat our corn flakes too hastily.





Actual quote from the ad: This is a great opportunity to own a frosted corn flake shaped like the great state of Illinois!

Could we not agree that this is THE opportunity to own a frosted corn flake shaped like the great state of Illinois?

On Gaming That's Kinda Educational

Who knew quasi-physics could be so cool? Now we just need a similar game that makes Chemistry look this fun and I can walk around with my head held high! (Or perhaps you hold the opinion that Gaming is uncool, Science is uncool, the word "Cool" is uncool -- that these three together make my assertion bogus, to which I would say "Touché")

Quote of the Day

"Life is but a dream."

Annie Mullins, in response to being told to do something or other that she had no desire to do.

Quote of the Day

"God made dirt and dirt don't hurt.
But, God also made Uranium, so . . . "

-Abigail Price Mullins

On Finding it Hard to Wait 11 More Hours

'Tis the best (and maybe only) reason to own a T.V. These writers deserve every penny they're not getting. Today might be very unproductive -- after watching Season 3's finale again last night, I'm back in crackpot theory mode again!

On Remembering Whose We Are

I came across this war journalist's site today. On this particular page is a picture that evidently gained some fame when it was posted on Time magazine's website. It is of an American soldier cradling a dying Iraqi girl who had been unfortunate enough to be too near a car bomb. Judging by the size of her body, lying in the soldier's arms, she is not much older than Annie.

Whatever your position on this, or any, war, a few things seem inarguable, at least from a Christian perspective. First, we live in a world that will not know true peace until Christ Jesus comes again. I simply do not know how any other perspective makes sense in a world where a precious little girl must suffer and die in such a way, for such erroneous worldviews. I am ashamed of myself for, from time to time, still viewing Satan as the man in the tight red suit, mischievously, if cartoonishly, holding the pitchfork, rather than the master Deceiver who has duped millions into buying into and killing for false philosophies -- little girls like this deserve far more than that from those who know better.

Second, we are beyond blessed in this country to have men and women who would not only be willing to travel to the trenches, but who would show such composure and class in the midst of desperation. I cannot think of a better example of what it means to be free than what is depicted in that picture.

Lastly, I am reminded, again, as a father, what it means to have children. I have to look at something like this and, somewhat painfully in light of the blessings it holds, acknowledge that this world is not our home. The Lord does give, and the Lord does take away, and every minute I have with my two little girls is simply a gift. If I can raise them to have the same perspective, then I believe I will have done my job as a daddy.

On things I DON'T miss about the 80s

I experienced a massive wave of 80's nostalgia the other day. As is often the case, it was some song I hadn't heard in some time. (I think it was Toto, by the way, but I'm not sure). Among many aspects of that great decade upon which I reflected, I was reminded of a few things that I don't miss. To be fair, most if not all of these may be very specific to my experience (e.g. Nos. 3 and 4 being due to the fact that I was a rather rotund child of the 80's). There are only five I can think of, because when all is said and done, growing up in the 80's was Awesome! However, at least for me, these are some nostalgia killers:

5. Christian Skating Parties

Did anyone else attend these things? It was once every few months, and the local skating rink (Roller skating, mind you) would be closed to the general public, allowing church groups and Christian schools have the place for the night. The normal musical fare was replaced for the evening with popular Christian music. Now, I've grown to appreciate far more Christian music than I did when I was 10, and being involved in youth ministry, I can understand the need for and value of such an event. Be that as it may, I submit there were few greater blows to a young boy's ego than having no skating ability whatsoever (or balance in general) and being forced to do it to the likes of Christian recording artists Petra or Amy Grant. This was especially true in light of the fact that I could have bruised my entire body to much cooler artists like Billy Ocean and Mr. Mister (Take . . .these broken wiiiings!).

4. Tight, Polyester-ish Basketball Uniforms

These gems of misguided form and fashion, made out of a sand paper-like fabric, were definitely not made (or sized?) with the larger kids in mind. I might not have scored, but I had some major chafing to prove I had seen some playing time.

3. Coca-Cola Shirts

Actually Shirt, singular. I waited a while to get one of these trendy pieces of Americana, and I can remember when I finally got mine and put it on, I looked and felt like a walking advertisement for what happens when you drink too much Coca-Cola (Again, the huge horizontal stripe/wave not designed with any kind of deference to your larger kids. And again, there was some chafing).

2. Those "After School Special"-type shows which would run after Saturday Morning Cartoons

If one of the best parts of being a kid in the 80's was watching Saturday Morning cartoons, then those ultra-serious shows aimed at teens and pre-teens, which would sometimes run after the block of regular cartoons, was one of the worst. Nothing would bring you crashing back from the wondrous world of little blue creatures, transforming robots, brave, evil-fighting G.I's and adverts for sugared breakfast cereals than a voice-over saying, "Stay tuned for the conclusion of Anger Lives Here, where we'll find out why Johnny's dad had to go away." I'm sure there was something to be learned from these ominous morality-plays, but the timing was such a pain.

1. The Iran-Contra Scandal

Who can forget the fateful day in March of 1987 when Ronald Reagan went on national television . . . Oh, wait. I meant to file that one under "Things I should have cared about, but missed because I was too busy drinking coca-cola at the skating rink and rubbing salve on my chafed skin."

True Number 1: The Rubik's Cube

I know this "game" has made its way onto virtually every "Best things about the 80's list" there is. It has become one of those icons that represents an entire decade -- nay, an entire culture. Throughout its decorated history, it has won world-wide acclaim and accolades, including several toy and game of the year awards. (I actually know very little of its history, but its Wikipedia Entry is very informative). The problem I have with this invention is really very simple: it was marketed as a toy, with its bright colors and simple design, yet one had to be -- oh what's the word, oh yeah: GENIUS -- to solve it! Everyone I knew had one, and no one I knew had solved it. We all simply had one. Every once in a while, someone would pick it up, turn it a few times, get, say, 4 of the 9 colors to match, become cautiously encouraged that today might be the day, quickly mess it up again, and put it back down. It was a crusher of self-esteem. How were we, or at least us average kids, supposed to look optimistically toward a bright new future, when we were faced with the knowledge that an item selling like hotcakes at the local Toys R' Us was something we'd never be able to, as long as we lived, wrap our minds around? I actually resorted to taking off and re-arranging the stickers to solve it -- I distinctly remember that moment, when this menacing glorified box brought out the worst in me. Even to this day, there is a little sadness in the thought that, no matter what I do in life, I will never, whether through lack of intellect or patience, be able to get 9 stinking colors to match up on a stupid plastic cube!

(Having said all of that, I'd still love to hear from anyone who has solved it. I won't be mad at you!)

On Truly Worthy Blogging

Lest you cannot tell, this BLOG, with the exception of when I talk about my family or faith, is really just for putting down some nonsense when I have some time to kill. If you want to read some worthwhile blogging, try Abby's BLOG (Which most of you already do -- isn't she a great mother?!), Patrick's BLOG on his wife's battle with cancer or Natalie's BLOG on her journey to become a doctor. From these BLOGs, you can find some other great sites. (As great as these sites are, I'm a bit ashamed of my Links section -- I need to broaden my Blogger horizons, into the greater Blogosphere, and find new sites and friends to recommend).

On Discovering New Music, Part 2

We saw this movie recently on a couple of strong recommendations. The movie is unlike anything I've seen before -- kind of musical, kind of faux-documentary. I recommend the movie for something different, and recommend most songs on the album. (There is some unnecessary language in beginning of the movie, so perhaps I should recommend neither based on that alone, but most of the music is really good.)

On Discovering New Music

Last night I had to go into work for a couple of hours, and I took Abby's iPod because she was using mine. I thought it would be a good opportunity to see some of what she's listening to. She usually has and artist or two I haven't heard and really come to like.

I put it on shuffle and every once in a while a song would come on that I hadn't heard before. More than once, I found myself thinking, "Hey, this is pretty good. Different, but sounds like something I might like." Just as the thought occured, the lyrics would begin. "The Itsy, Bitsy Spider, walked up the water spout . . ." or my favorite of the evening, "Momma's little baby likes, shortnin', shortnin, Momma's little baby loves shortnin' bread." Tells you a lot about why I need help discovering new music.

You gotta love a mom who keeps music for the entire family on her iPod!

On Putting Down the Camera

In our family, one nightly tradition has been to watch at least part of America's Funniest Home Videos before Annie's bedtime. For some reason I cannot now recall, it was one of those shows we would have on in the background most evenings while getting Annie ready for bed, and she began watching, and would crack up, especially at the Kids and Pets (she still thinks the name of the show is Funniest Kids). We do find ourselves more and more having to quickly change the channel when something scary comes on, and lately it has occurred to me that maybe the level of physical violence portrayed, while mostly whimsical, is a bit extreme and desensitizing. Come to think of it, we are crazy for letting her watch! (Note to Abby: let's talk about this.)

Regardless, were you to be present in our house during these nightly airings, you would most likely hear the following phrases being hurled at the T.V., usually by me:

1. "I wouldn't do that . . . Told 'ya!"

2. "How does one recover from such a thing?"

3. "Put down the camera and help your child!!"

It is the cause of #3 which, as a father, baffles me. The specific situations are varied, but usually the scene is something like the following:

A small child is walking, sweetly and serenely tottering along, in some backyard or similar green open space. He is pointing to something, a flower or a ladybug, and he is babbling and smiling and doing all of the wonderfully sweet things toddlers do when exploring a new and exciting world.

Distracted by the wonder of his discoveries, he has no way of knowing that his brother, driving some motorized monster truck or Humvee or Tank, is about to enter the frame, out of control and on a collision course with his sibling. And, as predicted a mere second or two earlier, the collision occurs, the toddler is thrown to the ground, and the big bro, now truly unable to control himself, continues to keep his foot pressed on the plastic peddle. Consequently, the toddler, now to some degree trapped under this motorized menace, must endure the indignity, not to mention the physical discomfort, of a Fisher Price tire grinding him further into a helpless heap in the grass.

Perhaps it's unfair to expect the adult operating the camera to react in time to stop the calamity. But, the reaction of the camera-person after the fact, more often than not, can be summarized by two implied thoughts:

1. "That is Fu--nny, so I'm going to laugh really hard!"

2. "Let's keep this puppy rolling, see where it leads -- this is
good stuff!"

Having never faced such a situation, I guess it's unfair of me to judge what I might do. In my mind, I envision myself acquiring some superhuman speed, so that the camera would remain, abandoned and floating in mid-air, Looney Tunes style, continuing to film as I stop one of my children from crushing the other. Ultimately, I guess I just don't have what it takes to win money on a video variety show.

On Collaborative Storytelling

A couple of years ago, my niece Savannah had the idea, one which some might call brilliant or inspired or visionary (none to my knowledge have labeled it as such, but they might have), to write a story together online. At first, the idea was that we would each write one word before passing off to the other person. This initial iteration of the idea, while giving each author ample opportunity to reflect on the direction of the story, quickly showed itself to be inefficient at best, as it would have taken weeks just to build the introductory sentence. It was then decided that perhaps the best approach was to allow each author one entire sentence (or in my case, a series of run on or complex sentences which clearly stretched the rules of the effort, as well as irked my cohort, much like this unnecessarily long and explanatory sentence must be irking you, oh patient reader; as I now reflect on this sentence, my suggestion is that you should go back to the beginning of the sentence, i.e. to that beginning "It was then decided . . . " and start this sentence anew, leaving out all that is parenthetical, meaning all verbage surrounded by parentheses -- otherwise, the meaning might be lost, or at least severely wounded, which in hindsight is a poor personification in light of the fact that being "lost" is not necessarily worse than being "wounded," unless of course "lost" implies "presumed dead," in which case "wounded" is the better of the two, and in which case the chosen personification works as written) to further the plot of the story.

You can see the potential issues that I, at least, encountered when it came to sticking to single sentences. Savannah was a trooper, however, and stuck with it for longer than she perhaps should have. If interested, you can read the beginning of the effort here. Hopefully SP can be draw out of her early retirement so that the saga of the students at AfSwAT can continue. . .