legless in the fair mother city

My across the street neighbor, long time confidant, and zen mower mechanic Obi-Wan has returned to the neighborhood. He has been in the hospital since November having his last and only leg removed, recovering, rehab-ing and bitching about hospital food.

I admit, I'm glad he's back. This undisclosed neighborhood we call home is a lonely place without him.

He arrived yesterday with The Acid Queen's help. She arrived a day early to let the medical supply people move in his new hospital bed with the trapeze bar.

I noticed Obi-Wan's real bed, purchased three years ago during the legendary Nurse Gollum scandal of '06, was no longer in the house. I assume it made it's way back with The Acid Queen. I didn't ask.

He's glad to be home. And so are we.

jail bird

My next door neighbor The Bulldog has finally gone to jail for some crimes he was involved in about a year and a half ago. His mom Frieda says he'll be in for 18 months. I guess that means he'll be transferred to a state run unit since the county jail only holds people a maximum of 12 months.

He's been headed for this life for a long time. His brother The Tiger is not far behind. He will soon begin his jail time for his involvement in the same crimes.

I guess this means I won't have gangster types driving and stopping by next door at all times of the day.

The Bulldog...he really has a sweet heart. But he's a rough dude. He has no direction. He doesn't want to do anything with himself.

Frieda thinks he'll do OK in jail, but The Tiger won't survive well. She knows her kids well, I guess.

birth announcement

Agent Offspring #3 successfully joined us in this world today.

Agent Wife and baby are well...

jedi padawan #005: completion

Last week the Jedi Master, Chuckie, and myself completed my first ever house flip venture from start to finish.

I really enjoyed this, every aspect of it. The whole transformation process is fun.

This particular project went smoothly from all perceived angles. I'm not holding my breath for this to be the norm from here on out. But we were fairly under budget in every category. We found deals everywhere. Even places we weren't looking for deals.

We even got to incorporate the locals. The guy who lived next door lays flooring for a living. He did a few jobs for us which saved us valuable time. Even his 6 year-old kid helped me plant the flower beds.

Anyway, today we started a remodel job for a customer. I much prefer house flips: no one staring over your shoulder and such.


Kitchen: BEFORE (Nov 14, 2008)








Kitchen: AFTER (Jan 14, 2009)

Happy Birthday Secret Agent B!

I, agent wife, have a confession to make. I hired out another secret agent to hijack agent B's blog and publish the following post on agent B's birthday. I had to incorporate another field agent in the event that I am in labor or at the hospital the day I wanted this posted. I wrote this a week in advance, knowing that we could be rushing away to have our third child any day now or a couple of weeks from now- heaven forbid- ha,ha.
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Happy Birthday Agent B!

I am so thankful for this man in my life. He really is a gift from the CEO.

I wasn't boy crazy growing up and never dated through high school, but at some point knew that I wanted a husband, so I prayed for one and prayed specifically. Since I am tall, I asked for someone my height or taller. Since I always thought my dad and siblings had far more interesting coloring than I did (I have brown hair, eyes and skin), I asked that my husband would look more multi-colored like them in physical appearance and I asked that the CEO would give me someone who would be a strong Christian- like a preacher or elder or someone of that spiritual depth and maturity.

Agent B is exactly my height (we've measured), his coloring is more similar to my dad's than my own brother's is and he is the strong Christ follower that I asked for, but never imagined.

Being very religious and performance, type A personality that our society and the institutional church loves, I imagined the same in a husband. Agent B is none of those. If anything he is the opposite. This baffled me some and at times still causes friction. Performance christianity and status quo are comfortable, easy and falsely satisfying. I fed on it for many years, but agent B has introduced me to realness, humility, real relationships, listening to others and loving more than my reflection or religiosity.

Where I and so many other church members saw the performing religious man as being the strong Christian, the CEO sees the heart. Where I studied missions and then went into ministry with all my religious garb (that I was taught to ditch), Agent B lived it naturally. I created bible groups called "friends", while Agent B was a friend. I scheduled people in, while he hung out. I most often have an agenda, while he most often has love.

I'm so glad the CEO is smarter than I am and gave me the desires of my heart, even though I didn't really know who that was. I'm so glad I obeyed and married someone I hardly knew because the CEO said to, even though I had an inkling this man did not fit my preconceived notion of a "strong Christian" as we entered our very short engagement and planned our lives together. I'm so glad that agent B has been patient with me, understanding and a sharpening agent in my spiritual life. He has and is helping me to become real, transparent and truly love the CEO, His ways and those He puts in our lives instead of the appearance of religiosity, performance and the cheap thrills that commercialized club members have found so appealing and (falsely) fulfilling. We read blogs and are being exposed to ideas that are "revolutionary" in Christian living and at each point, I have two reactions- the Lover within me cries out- "yes!!! this is true kingdom life" and the other part is "this is the agent life".

I also love how agent B and I are enjoying growing older. I know it sounds weird in our youth centered society, but we are finding great delight in growing in experience and maturity and building up a wealth of memories and relationships together. It's really pretty awesome!

Happy Birthday Agent B! from your greatest fans-- agent wife and kids

May our adventure continue with the grace, direction and love of the CEO. May He bless your socks off this year and bring us into greater depth in Him and in all that He has for us.

new library

Something really positive happened within blocks of our neighborhood. The fair mother city opened a new library.

This is beyond amazing for several reasons. 1) A local non-prof (“Friends of the fair mother city library”) did their own funding to make everything it happen including the payroll for new employees, etc. So unbelievably, Tax payers won’t be billed for this, not that I would mind doing so. 2) The city counsel and hoopla gallery created little if any red tape for this library to exist. It literally was OKed and built within months. 3) They put this branch on the city’s north side (traditionally the old side of town thus, “poor” side). And finally 4) the new library is in the run-down vacant shopping center two blocks from my house.

That in and of itself is amazing. This shopping center has eleven store fronts, but only three are occupied: two dollar stores and a bingo hall. There’s also a discount pizza chain and our bank. But the bank is closing that branch in March. I’m not pleased with that at all.

But now there is something positive and possibly life giving: a brand new library.

My entire family and I were present for the grand opening complete with 500 others, a circus hoopla, shucking and jiving city politicians, a clown looking like Minnie Pearl, and a juggler who dropped an egg on the new carpet.

I love jugglers. I can juggle, a little.

I raise my mug of hot mint tea to all those who made this library possible. Thank you for bringing something excellent to our forgotten corner of the fair mother city.

the temple of mammon

During the brief three and a half year history of the agent b files, we’ve been very militant about posting reports strictly on the happenings of and around agent b. No frills or fluff. Except for that one time Christmas greeting of the Star Wars Holiday Special in just five minutes. Oh man, I am so funny.

But generally, we try to stick to the mission here and not follow whatever is fab in blogland.

Yet for the last few years, my disdain for consumerism and stuff has grown as rapid as my interest in social justice. Why should I have the vast availability of cheep shit to buy if it means raping the world? Or something like that.

And for crying out loud. The texts I read about my god claimed he had little or nothing when he walked the earth with us.

Admittedly, I use to mildly defend Wal-Mart and similar places. I figured if you are going to boycott Wal-Mart, then you’ll have to boycott everyone. Because they all carry the same slave labored crap made in China and Bangladesh. Just because Wally is the biggest target doesn’t mean the little guys should get off the hook.

I admire brother Shane and co since they go the extreme to make their own clothes and such. Don’t know if I’ll ever get to that point. But all last year I bought clothes from Goodwill. And it was fun. I figured second hand is second best to making your own.

Also – as a field agent embedded within the poverty culture, I figured since the local poor folks go to Wal-Mart, then so should I. Why should I act more uppity than my friends?

But the poor drink sodas like no tomorrow. And I’ve barely drank sodas since 1994. So there blows that logic. And if the poor were going to jump off a cliff I probably shouldn’t follow. Or something like that.

Bottom line: I am not a fan of our nation’s consumer culture. I’m quite vocal against our fat-ass whiney babyness. I refuse to bow to the god of convenience and the god of entitlement.

After September 11, 2001, our president addressed the nation and suggested we all go shopping as a means to help the country. Like people who hide their deep seated issues with spending money or eating or drug doing.

Disgusting.

I try to buy as little as possible. And when I do spend, I prefer local business owners who offer various services and give back to the locals. Blah blah blah.

I’m not militant or preachy about all this. But I am more serious than before. Since I was born and raised in a consumer society, I figure this anti-consumerism lifestyle seems the best way to subversively live the gospel within this culture.

But my primary reason for sharing all of this...

Since about 2006 or so Agent Wife and I have received dozens of Wal-Mart gift cards. Christmas gifts, random thank yous, whatever. $25, $50, $100. Even a $150 once

We are thankful and don’t want to complain. I’d REALLY like to avoid Wal-Mart all together. Forever. But we can’t. Because we keep getting this damn currency for the temple of mammon.

I don't know what to make of this. Lord god, help me.



* If you have 20 minutes and can stomach the peppy narrator and her mentions of global warming and toxic breast milk, the story of stuff makes a good classroom-type lesson of our consumeristic godlessness.

jedi padawan #004

(before and after shots of the front exterior)






Every step of our current house flipping project has gone well with no indication otherwise.

We are approximately two weeks from completion, assuming no more major US holidays or personal ordeals distract us.

My wife is about to give birth to our third. So, maybe some more personal ordeals await us.

I have enjoyed every minute of this and hope to continue with more partnership projects. As goofily sentimental as this may sound, I might actually miss my little corner of White Utopia. The property is totally bad-ass with plenty of outdoor-type nooks-n-crannies to take my ever coveted cigar break (like the tornado shelter we used on super cold days). Even the Jedi Master has helped resurrect my twelve year hibernation of pipe smoking. It’s hard to envision smoking any other place or time.

I gather that White Utopia has a weird bent to it. People WANT to live there. I mean, it’s weird. But who’s complaining? This is the first house I’ve worked on with the Jedi Master where different people literally stop by daily to ask us about the house. All are inquiring for themselves or “some friends”.

I’m not holding my breath over any of those inquiries. I'm sure it's small town nosiness - as in, locals just wanting to see the old “Richardson house” or whatever and see what those boys are doing to it, etc.

But in recent months I’ve leaned there are two kinds of people in the greater metropolitan fair mother city region: those who will die in White Utopia and those who are DYING to die in White Utopia.

This town has a strange attraction to it. And with the way the whole project has gone, I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up selling it word of mouth, sans realtor.

agent gathering 2008

If the CEO can pay some guy’s tax burden via a fishes mouth, then surely he can provide G13 and myself $50 for beer, burgers, more beer, and coffee.

The CEO of the universe is a good god. And to all you naysayers: don’t ask me why he didn’t provide for our gas to meet in Lubbock via the fair mother city and Amarillo. Who knows these answers to the deep questions of the universe. Sheesh.

But none the less, I met up with fellow Bostonian agent cohort G13 (aka the disability resourcer) in the windiest city on earth, where money literally falls in parking lots.

As mentioned three years ago, I am willing to drive across subdued terrain for 3 hours to drink from the wells of encouragement and friendship. The fair mother city has been a lonely outpost during much of my tenure. I can use outsider views and words into my life right now.

Special agent G13 is a genuine friend with a gifted cut-throat pastoral calling. His low tolerance for drama and bullshit make him the kind of pastor that’s all-too needed in faith gatherings. Kind of like that jackass judge from American idol mixed with Henri Nouwen. Firm caress.

I tip my lousy Texas Amber Ziegenbach to you G13. A rare breed and honest friend.

castles made of sand

(one of those sappy reflective posts)

As the CEO of the universe gives my family requested fruit for our past endeavors, and as the poverty culture I’ve grown to know and love slowly slips through my fingers, I ponder my calling and future.

I’m sure I’ll be an undercover agent to some degree for the rest of my life. But it’s clear that any remnants in my life of the old izzy group ministry are long gone. Hanging with the homeless and working-poor from within a social ministry apparatus was invaluable training none the less. But fumbling around in disguise as a manual laborer is my deal these days.

Surprise attack. Killed me in my sleep.

I’m loving it. But there’s little time to be with the disability check receiving folks of society. So it goes.

My new work schedule is killer. And my daily cohorts are enjoyable. Chuckie even gave me an unexpected Christmas present: a best-of Jimi Hendrix CD. That is the most incredible thing ever. I am listening to the Star Spangled Banner as I write this. We take cigar breaks twice a day, which I often enjoy my ever favorite Nat Sherman cigarillos.

As a child I promised myself that I would never become a tobacco fiend. But something about manually busting your ass and being part of a step by step metamorphosis makes you enjoy if not expect good reflective cigar smoking.

And as mentioned earlier, Agent Wife and I have begun the process of putting in our request for assignment change. It could be a long wait, assuming it ever happens.

But I assume it will.

So long 2008. You melted into the sea. Eventually.