The Transformed Non-Conformist

Kicking Addiction by Going Cold (Angry) Turkey

2012-02-23T00:40:00.001-06:00

I have just entered the last week of my adolescent development class and only have a few assignments left to do. They are the biggest assignments for the course, but I can't seem to concentrate and get them completed. I want to do my homework, but I can't. I blame Mark Zuckerberg's recent decision to partner with Rovio Games. Their partnership allowed Angry Birds to be included in the apps now available on Facebook.

The pigs stole 3 eggs.
You have sacrificed your entire flock.
Who is really the winner here?

I don't know how long it has been available to play, but I discovered it three days ago and installed it immediately. I had played it a few times on other people's phones, but since I don't have a smartphone, I hadn't really put any time into it. I knew how fun it was, so I had to have it. Since installing it three days ago, I have logged 63.7 hours of game play.

I have not been getting my homework done, getting enough sleep or eating properly. After playing for half the night, when I got up to take my daughter to school this morning I felt more guilt than Whitney Houston's pharmacist.

When I arrived back home I deleted the game and blocked the app from appearing on my Facebook in the future. I had to get this darkness out of my life. I always heard fun and addicting this game was and they were right. As soon as I hit my first pig, I was hooked. It only took one. One time and I belonged to that slingshot. I didn't even have to use it for a while for it to build up in my system. It was immediate.

This bird poops out an egg the same size as his body.
No wonder he is willing to kill himself.

On those occasions that I absolutely had to leave my computer, I couldn't stop thinking of ways to destroy that last pig or get more points on the levels that I only had 1 or 2 stars. When I went to sleep I heard pigs laughing at me and was haunted by the "WEEEEE" of overhead birds about to crash through my poorly constructed ice roof. That stupid song was continuously ringing in my ears. I couldn't get away from any of it, but also couldn't wait to score another hit.

Knowing that I couldn't do this alone, I called a friend who had successfully walked away a few months ago. When I told him what I had done, he was deeply empathic. He reminded me that he had warned me to stay away from it. I thought I was strong enough. I could dabble with it and not get hooked. It was just for fun and could put it down anytime I wanted to. Besides, all my friends were doing it. I should have known better.

He made me agree to call him if I began to feel tempted. I have done alright so far, but it is just the first day. I hear it gets harder about day three. I need to find a support group. Pray for me.

Lesson in Patience

2012-02-18T11:52:00.000-06:00

Kirsten and I went to eat at our favorite restaurant in town yesterday China Buffet #6. I have no idea why it is number six. I have never seen or heard of China Buffet 1 through 5. Maybe the first five failed and #6 is the first one to succeed. I have no idea, but it is the best Chinese place around. I love Chinese food.

Despite the absence of raw fish,
this is still sushi

Kirsten is not normally available for lunch, but the high school got out early. It was for this same reason there were several teenagers in the restaurant as well. Throughout the meal, I kept laughing at the kids next to us. Kirsten couldn't figure out what I thought was so funny. The table had seven students, including two Asians, who were lecturing the others on how to properly use chopsticks, correcting them about what sushi is (a style of food preparation and NOT raw fish), and explaining the difference between sushi and sashimi.

The entire group was very animated and debated extensively about any topic that was discussed. I was not making fun of them. I found them to be very entertaining and enjoyed listening to their banter, especially when it got ridiculous. My daughter begged, "Dad, don't laugh at them. They can't help it. They're theater kids." Well, that did explain a lot, but they were still fun to watch.

We finish our meal and the fortune cookies arrived with our bill. I crack mine open and read this message.

What?!? No, it doesn't.

For the moment let's ignore the fact that most fortune cookies do not contain fortunes. Lately, they contain little pieces of supposed wisdom or advice. False advertising.

That being said, this 'fortune' is wrong. Patience does not produce immediate results. Certainly not infinite patience. The only reason you would ever need infinite patience is because your results are far from being immediate. If I am getting immediate results, I don't need patience at all.

When I go to the DMV, I know that I will be there for a long period of time. That's why I always bring a good book and a sleeping bag. I am very patient because I know it is to be expected. I don't get upset and I don't complain. However, that attitude does not get me quicker results and it is nowhere near immediate.

Patience has nothing to do with getting results. In fact, sometimes being a little impatient will result in getting your way a little bit faster. It's amazing how many businesses will work faster to get you out of their establishment when you start making a scene because you have been there long enough that your mail is now coming to their waiting room.

Kirsten tells me that I am looking at it the wrong way. The immediate result is not necessarily the completion of the task you are waiting for. "Kirsten, that's stupid." She then tried to re-explain, but the results of her argument were not coming fast enough. My being patient was not helping. Once again, proving my point.

"Dad, you are just wrong."

"We will see about that."

I got up and (much to my daughter's dismay) had a seat at the table of the theater kids. They halted their enlivened debate and looked at me. One of them with his hands still above his head from the point he was previously making asked, "Can we help you?" I produced the fortune, set it on the table and said, "Someone explain this to me."

One of the Asian girls immediately snatched it up. I was happy about that, since it was her people that wrote it. She proceeded to read it out loud, so they could all think about it. My daughter slid under our table.

She explained that patience will produce the immediate result of inner peace, which leads to less stress and better relations with your fellow man. My daughter yells from under her table, "That's what I said."

"SHUT UP! YOU DID NOT!"

I took the fortune from her and handed it to the guy sitting to her left. She huffed, "Apparently, he wanted a man's perspective." I politely corrected her. "Sorry, no. It's not because he's a man. It's because he's American." I will not be called sexist.

He then said that patience will make your life better.

Well, maybe....eventually.

I told the table they were wrong and needed to stay in school. One of the girls shot back, "Maybe you shouldn't have asked us then." However, one of the guys (the most strangely dressed one), came to my defense and said, "Wait, I see what he's saying. Anticipated results should pertain to the item...OW!!!"

The Asian girl next to him stabbed him in the arm with her chopsticks. The table then erupted into a heated argument about who was right. Four taking the original position and three who sided with me. However, since I was now being ignored and they were busy insulting each others' intelligence, it was time for us to leave.

I love that restaurant.

Wrong again! These numbers did not win.

Great Week for Blogging

2012-02-16T11:04:00.000-06:00

I have had a very eventful week. Well, more eventful than my usual weeks of watching television, doing homework and spying on my neighbors. I even got out of the house a few times.

It started last weekend when I escorted my son, Christian, and his band Odysseus to a recording studio in St. Louis to record their first EP. It was a learning experience for me and, in an unexpected turn of events, my voice made it onto the album. For those of you who have been unfortunate enough to hear me sing, don't start investing in earplugs. It wasn't a solo and I wasn't actually singing. There is a spot in the chorus of one of their songs where we ~~screamed~~ chanted the phrase "Don't take it out on me." I haven't heard the whole song, so I don't know what that means.

$1.99 on Amazon

On Tuesday, which was Valentine's Day for those of you who might not have noticed, the very funny blog The Simple Dude had a give away for single people. The prize was a $50 Amazon gift card. It involved ~~tweeting re-twitting re-twatting tooting~~ re-tweeting a message he put out on Twitter that day and then he would do a random drawing. I re-tweeted (that word just doesn't sound right) his message and commented on his blog that if I won, I would buy his blogging e-book from Amazon.

I did not win, but the winner, who writes the blog Good Youngman Brown, decided to buy the book for me with his winnings. I had the link in my inbox by the afternoon of the next day. I have never met this man. He just decided to do this after seeing my comment that I wanted to buy it. Thank you, fellow blogger. You are one of the good people out there in this world.

Of course, I went to check out the blog of my benefactor and was pleased to find that he is very funny. Be sure to visit Good Youngman Brown and The Simple Dude. You will not be disappointed by either.

A heart, yes.
But no sappy pink
or frilly stuff

Earlier on V Day, I proposed marriage to Red at the blog Doesn't Speak Klingon. Well, I didn't really propose. I just told her I had decided this should happen and she agreed. You can see this in the comments of her February 13 post. We have never met and don't know if we ever will, but I expect that we will be very happy. Vesta Vayne at Cowardly Feminist gave us her stamp of approval. She even encouraged Red to accept.

Then this morning, I was informed by CopyBoy at the blog Not Worth Mentioning that I was the featured New Blog of the Day on his site. I just discovered this site last week and have enjoyed reading his take on the crazy facts he finds on the internet. Thank you, CopyBoy for today's plug.

I know I included a lot of links in this post, but I recommend every one of these great blogs. If I mentioned any you are not familiar with, pay them a visit.

Wedding Bells in Aisle 5

2012-02-14T15:04:00.000-06:00

Since everyone else is writing about Valentines Day, I figured I better jump on the bandwagon. For those of you that are already sick of hearing about V-Day, don't stop reading. This is not a sappy Cupid post. I married and 12 years later divorced the girl in this story. I just wanted to share a story from my life (that just happens to revolve around the topic most discussed today).

Back in 1995, when I was considerably younger and stupider, I was in love with a girl that I just had to marry. We had been dating for a considerable amount of time and I had decided it was time to 'pop the question,' but wanted to do something different. Doing the traditional getting down on one knee or proposing over a candlelight dinner is just not my style. So, I devised a plan.

Christina had said many times that her favorite place on earth was Wal-Mart. She just loved to shop and Wal-Mart has just about anything a person could ever need. I had a college professor once say, "If you can't get it at Wal-Mart, you don't need it." So, I decided there would be no better place to do it. I know, I'm a romantic.

It's where dreams come true....at discount prices

We were headed into town with my friend John and his girlfriend. We were all going out to eat and had to stop by Wal-Mart for a few things first. I had informed John of my plan so he could keep the girls busy until I pulled it off. It was going to be a bit of a challenge. I knew what I wanted to do in my head, but did not know if the store would cooperate.

As soon as we entered the store, I excused myself to the restroom and told them I would catch up. Once they were out of sight, I sought out a manager to explain my plan. I wanted to use the intercom to declare my love.

Since it was a Friday night, the store manager was not there. It was a shift manager who was afraid to grant me permission without talking to his boss first. Since it had taken about 10 minutes to even speak with the shift manager, I was beginning to get concerned about my time. However, this was important and I would do what I had to do.

When he got the manager on the phone, he wanted to talk to me directly. He asked me to tell him exactly what I was going to say. I had rehearsed it, so I told him. He gave me several conditions that I agreed to and asked to put the shift manager back on the phone. After hanging up he told me not to move and disappeared.

At this point it had been almost half an hour since we had entered the store. I was praying that John was doing a good job of keeping the girls busy since this was taking much longer than I had anticipated. I just knew that at any moment they would be returning back to the front of the store and my plan would be foiled.

When he finally came back, he had me sign some papers to relieve Wal-Mart of any liability from the events that were about to transpire. He then said I had to be willing to have our pictures taken for the national Wal-Mart newsletter. I didn't want to consent to this one because I didn't know if Christina would be up for it, but it was a deal-breaker, so I reluctantly agreed. He then wanted to hear what I was going to say again. Finally, after close to an hour of being in the store, he handed me the intercom microphone.

"Attention Wal-Mart shoppers and especially Christina XXXXXXXX of Waltonville. This is Brett Minor and I would like you to answer a question for me. A few days ago I purchased a ring that I want to present to you. I love you and want you to be my wife. Meet me at register 1 if the answer is yes. If you do not arrive within 10 minutes, I will assume the answer is no and leave quietly. I love you and the timer starts now."

I then took my place at the register and waited. As the minutes ticked by a crowd began to gather around me. After a few minutes there was over 100 people standing at the register waiting to see how this was going to unfold. Every woman that came walking around the corner caused the crowd to hold their breath. I would say, "That's not her," and they collectively exhaled with disappointment, "OHHHH." This happened dozens of times.

Every person that came around the corner was coming to watch the show and the crowd continued to grow. Considerately, they never blocked the view between myself and the area she would be coming from. The time continued to click by.

An elderly African-American gentleman approached me and asked, "Are you worried yet?" I wasn't before he asked, but was starting to think about it. I was pretty positive she would say yes, but maybe I was wrong. It was also possible that she wanted to say yes, but was not willing to be a public spectacle and had fled out the back door. Either way, it would be really embarrassing to be standing here rejected in front of all these people.

Someone shouted out, "Thirty seconds left." Everyone started looking at their watches. I stood my ground and tried to maintain my smile. I could hear the people whispering, "She's not coming. Oh, that poor guy. What will he do?"

The crowd began to chant, "TEN!!!"

Oh, great. She really isn't going to show up.

"NINE"

I can't believe I did this. This is the stupidest I idea I have ever had.

"EIGHT"

Are they even still here? We came in one car.

"SEVEN"

The exit is too crowded. I won't even be able to make a quick getaway.

"SIX"

My face feels flushed. Is it hot in here?

"FIVE"

Wait! Is that John? Yes. They're here.

"FOUR"

Why is he by himself? Where is she?

"THREE"

She slowly walked around the corner. Her face was beet red, but she had a big smile. As soon as I acknowledged to the crowd that this was her, they erupted into applause. I put the ring on her finger, kissed her and the crowd cheered again. We got lots of high fives and handshakes as the crowd began to disperse.

A Wal-Mart employee jumped in to get the shot for the newsletter and we were on our way out to the car. I asked her, "What part of the store were you in that it took so long to get to the front?"

She responded, "I considered leaving and saying yes later after making you sweat, but thought that would be too mean. So, I decided to make you think I wasn't coming."

Boredom in Music Land

2012-02-11T18:01:00.000-06:00

Yesterday afternoon I braved a mini blizzard, arrived in St. Louis and have been sitting in a dark room ever since. I've been sleeping in an unfurnished room with six gaseous teenagers and really crappy internet service.

That really sounds worse than it is. I have been known to exaggerate.

Much too my disappointment,
there was not a single dinosaur inside.

Last month I wrote about going to see my son's death metal band perform in a club. It was loud, as is necessary for shows of that type, and my ears have stopped bleeding since then. This weekend I am with the band again, but this time it is to record their first EP. They have recorded once before, but it was in the basement of their lead singer's house. This time, we are in a professional studio. It is a much better experience when you don't have to chase rats away to keep them from chewing on the guitar cords.

My being here does not mean that I really have anything to do with this endeavor. Because recording is not a fast process, they have to stay here for a few days to get all the tracks done. With five band members, all their equipment and sleeping gear, it would not fit into one vehicle.

Proposed solution: "Christian, call your dad. He's never doing anything."

So, here I am.

The owner's dog. Pit bull mix to guard
his owner's coffee stash.

Despite not having much to do, it really isn't that bad. I brought my laptop, several books and a few rented DVD's. There is also a big screen HDTV in the next room with a large comfortable couch. I am using these things to distract myself because a person can only watch a drum track being laid down so many times. And it has been done many, many times.

It was really interesting in the beginning. When they first started recording last night, I was fascinated by the microphone setup, the sound board, the process and the beautiful 37" computer monitor the sound engineer has on his computer.

Part of the control room

First, the guitar track (scratch track) must be recorded. This is a basic recording that will not be on the final cut. It is used as the basis for the drummer to play off of later. Once the drums are recorded, other instruments get recorded and added in one at a time. It is an incredibly slow process. The guitar scratch tracks alone kept them up until about 3 a.m. this morning. Since ~~I don't have the energy of a teenager~~ they don't need me for any of this, I went to bed at midnight.

This studio is built for several aspects of the music business. They silk screen shirts for bands, create CD and sleeve art and rent out rooms for bands to practice in. Since we live so far away, they let us crash in one of the practice rooms. While I greatly appreciate the courtesy offered to us, I thought I was going to freeze to death. That room was cold.

Since it is not designed for people to be living here, it is missing some basic accommodations. There is a refrigerator, but no stove or microwave. We ran to the grocery store to have food for the next three days, but since we cannot cook, it is mostly lunch meat sandwiches and fruit roll-ups.

One of the motivational moments between takes

Whether well-fed or malnourished, the plan is to have the entire album finished sometime Sunday afternoon. The guys have really been enjoying the experience and I am thrilled that I got to participate and watch their excitement. Despite all the downtime for me, I love that I was asked to come. I've learned a lot. Hanging out with teenagers, a lot of what I learned involved new ways to fart on each other, but I learned some music stuff too.

Hopefully, the new Odysseus EP will be available soon.

Real Life Pitfalls of Social Media

2012-02-10T10:42:00.000-06:00

I have been addicted to Facebook for a couple of years now. My habit when I sit down at my computer has been to pull up my Facebook wall and scroll down reading the various updates until I get to the last point that I have already read. Then I feel that I am up to speed on everyone's lives.

However, for the last few months I have not been paying as much attention to it. I scan through every day, but I don't read with the diligence that I used to. This is mainly because of my blog reading. I read about 50 different blogs and try to keep up with them, so I don't have as much time to keep up with Facebook. Plus, there is so much more information in a blog than the short little blurbs on Facebook. While one of my Facebook friends may mention that they are having meatloaf last night, blogger Jen of "Jen" e sais quoi gives a full description of the menu and ambience of her latest restaurant outing in Portland. Much better reading.

When I was spending my precious time concentrating on Facebook, my students and many of the kids in my youth group would be a little ~~unnerved~~ confused when I would ask about their mother's surgery or how the party last Friday was. They always wondered how I knew the things I did, but they tend to forget how public the information they put on Facebook is. I was not looking to see what that specific person was up to. I would just read my Wall and later when I saw them, I would remember what I had read. But if you ever do want to know something, a quick Facebook check will usually give you the information you seek. Generally, if you want to know what movie your neighbor is watching, you only have to scan their page or timeline to quickly find out.

It is amazing the things that people are willing to put on Facebook without regard for ~~pedophiles, serial killers, crazy ex-spouses~~ who may be reading it. We can read anything from the news of them getting a new pet to what they ate for dinner that night. Some people's posts are funny, some only use it to complain about their lives, some use it for political activism and others tell us what is happening every time they do anything.

Example: These people drive me nuts. They post 600 updates a day and never really say anything.
9:04 "Just got a new library book."
9:17 "Thinking about Chinese for lunch"
9:21 "Just saw Bobby. I have missed him."
9:29 "Construction on Broadway again. I wonder why the traffic cones are always orange."

One of the great advantages for parents is the ability to keep up with their children. If you want to know what they are up to, it is usually somewhere on Facebook. Every parent should know how to use this wonderful tool. If your child has a Facebook page and you do not know what is going on in their life, then it is your own fault. Mark Zuckerberg may not care about our privacy, but his lack of concern is very helpful in this area. Now when Kirsten leaves the house, I don't have to worry about who she is with, whether she is eating healthy, what her bowling average is or what state she is in. Facebook tells me everything.

However, this tool is not helpful if you don't use it. This fact hit me hard yesterday when I heard something in one of those rare face-to-face conversations. I couldn't get home fast enough to consult the all-knowing Facebook to see if it was true. About 5 seconds after logging on I found this.

This says Tuesday. TUESDAY!!! Kirsten has had a boyfriend for two days and her father did not know about it. When I picked her up at school, she asked me how my day was and if I written anything embarrassing about her on my blog that day. I said I didn't want to talk to her. She blew it off and laughed as she hopped in the van.

Me: "Kirsten, you are a big bag of lies!"

Her: "A big bag, not like a little lunch sack or a Zip-loc bag?"

Me: "Nope. A big, rotten, stinking bag of deceit."

Her: "Is there maggots in it?" (Can you tell she is not taking me very seriously?)

Me: "When were you going to tell me you and Steve were a couple?"

Her: "What? I did!"

Me: "No, you did not."

Her: "Dad, I put it on Facebook as soon as it happened. I told the whole world and that includes you."

Kirsten definitely understands the concept of social media. However, like many people her age, they forget about the social aspect of talking to people. Once it is on Facebook, it is public knowledge and it is your own fault if you did not know about it. Luckily, I added Steve as a friend a few days ago, so can keep an eye on both of them.

Stuntman Training Accidents #1

2012-02-05T22:22:00.000-06:00

After my last post about how my brothers and I wanted to be stuntmen when we were kids, I thought I would share one of our less than spectacular moments. While it was very true that we were very daring and willing to push the limits of safety and sanity, things did not always pan out the way they looked in our heads. In our heads, the stunts were fantastic and always without flaws.

There is only one reason I never attempted this.
We didn't have one!

Many of our stunts involved the use of bicycles. We never really got into the BMX freestyling that was becoming popular at the time, but we did like to jump things. It was because of this love for big air that I got to see a back flip for the first time.

In Waltonville, where we grew up, there is a street (Knob St.) that has been closed and re-opened at least a dozen times that I can remember. The street goes down Knob Hill, which is supposedly the highest point in the county, and the street is fairly steep.

One weekend, we were out on our bikes with some friends and noticed that Knob Street had been closed off again. Being the curious types, we went around the barriers and discovered that there was a large dirt pile in the middle of the road about halfway down the hill. This pile was about four feet tall with plenty of road left on the other side for an easy landing.

The side facing the top of the hill had a perfect smooth side that was destined for jumping. Since some thoughtful road crew person had taken the time to build this wonderful toy for us, it would have been rude to not take advantage of it.

I was the first to take a run at it. The steep grade of the hill made it very easy to gain speed quickly. Lined up for a beautiful shot, I rapidly approached the jump. As I neared the top, I noticed how drastic the drop off on the other side would be. I locked up the brakes and rode smoothly over the mound. Everyone ran up to see what the issue was. I showed them my concerns.

This type of landing is much more difficult.

I was not scared of heights or crashes (I had experienced enough of them), but realized we needed a strategy. The problem was the grade of the hill. Had this mound been on flat ground it would have a different dynamic to the jump. The landing area would have been at the same elevation as the jumping point. However, on a steep grade, much more speed is gained and as the jumper is going up through the air, the ground is dropping away at an alarming rate. We were not intimidated by this type of jump. After all, we had jumped our bikes off the neighbor's roof. You just want to know what you are getting into since the landing will be rougher.

While we were scanning the road for possible hazards (holes, unusual bumps, extra gravel, dead bodies from previous attempts, etc.), my younger brother Kyle, decides to just go for it. He yells from the top of the hill for everyone to clear out of the way. Knowing that he wouldn't warn us again, we scattered to the edges of the road.

These are not exactly built for leaving the ground.

As he comes flying down the hill, I mentally question why he didn't trade bikes with someone. Kyle was on a ten-speed. However, he did something I had never seen before and still have not seen done on a ten-speed.

Using my best guess, he approached the ramp at approximately the speed of sound and shot off into the sky with the gap between him and the ground growing at an exponential rate.

Kyle was very aware that the bike he was using was not ideal for jumping, so as he approached the top he pulled up hard on the handlebars to ensure he didn't land on his front wheel. It was immediately evident that he had overcompensated.

As he sailed past me, I could tell he was flipping backwards. Kyle, never wanting to be accused of not seeing something through to the end refused to leave the bike and stayed in the seat. It was an amazing thing to see as the bike and rider continued to spin until he was right side up again. It would have been more amazing had he landed at that point, but he didn't. He kept rotating until the tires were skyward again. That was when he met the pavement.

At his current velocity, he did not just land. He skidded. Much like a rock skipping across water, but without the skipping part. Toppling and rolling over his bike, taking hits from the pedals and going through the spokes, he came to a bloody, grinding stop. He made a generous skin contribution to the road commissioner that day. He wouldn't donate that much skin at one time again until he hits a dog 15 years later while riding his motorcycle.

We packed his wounds with dirt to stop the bleeding, pulled out the most mangled spokes and attempted to straighten the front wheel (unsuccessfully). We then drug him to the ditch to clear the road so we could try to do better than him. Because Kyle's ~~left side of his body~~ bike was out of commission, he watched from the sidelines as we each took our turns on the now-acclaimed ramp of potential death. Since Kyle has demonstrated what not to do so successfully, our attempts were much more productive.

Once we all had our share of excitement, we decided to venture home. It then occurred to us that the sun was quickly setting, we were about 5 miles from home, short one bike and Kyle could barely move. It was going to be a looooong trek home.

This Is Why My Body Is Falling Apart Today

2012-02-01T23:57:00.000-06:00

Tonight, my daughter told me she needed my help with a school assignment. Being the incredible, uber-cool dad and spectacular all-around person that I am, I was more than happy to assist. She told me to have a seat and pulled out a notebook. She then reminded me that I had once told her I wanted to be a stuntman when I grew up. This is true and I would have been awesome.

I was the oldest of three boys living in the country. My mother has lots of entertaining stories about the horrors that we put her through. We weren't bad kids; we just loved adventure and the more dangerous the activity, the bigger the thrill. I have blogged about some of these adventures before. Living where we did, we had access to motorcycles, tractors, barn lofts, train tracks and all sorts of things to climb on. We were always climbing and jumping and pushing things a little bit further than most kids.

The crazy things we were doing were difficult enough for my mother to handle, but in 1981 things got much worse (or more fun, depending on how you look at it). That was the year The Fall Guy premiered on ABC.

The Fall Guy starred Lee Majors (3 years after $6 Million Man) as a top Hollywood stuntman who got caught up in all sorts of crazy capers. In addition to foiling crimes and hanging out with beautiful women, he did spectacular stunts for movies in every episode. He would jump off buildings, crash cars, get set on fire and tons of other cool stuff I couldn't wait to try out. Add this show to the fact that I had already been watching Bo and Luke speeding along in the General Lee on The Dukes of Hazzard for 2 years and I was hooked. When my dad rented Burt Reynold's stuntman movie Hooper that same year, there was no stopping me.

YEE-HAW!!!

As the oldest, my younger brothers followed along, which I didn't mind because when one of us got hurt, it was quite handy to have someone available to run and get Mom. Luckily, the injuries were rarely serious. I will cover some of the more grievous injuries in a future post. We had always been daring, but now it was time to actually do things that most people would get injured doing. Before the dream of being a stuntman, I would climb to the top of the barn and stand on the peak just for the ~~fear in my mother's eyes~~ thrill. After I knew what my future had in store for me, I would jump off. Of course, I had to build up to that.

We started jumping off the pig barns. One of the barns was about 6 feet tall on one end and a little over 10 feet on the other. We jumped off the low end until we felt that we had the roll technique down and would move our way up to higher and higher parts of the roof. We eventually graduated to the roof of our house and even started jumping out the second story windows of our bedrooms.

Once we were old enough to drive, we practiced getting hit by cars. We started with cars that sat lower to the ground so we could roll over the hood easier. When we decided we had it down to our satisfaction, we would take the hit at 5 mph faster. We increased the speed higher and higher until we knew we could really freak people out by getting run down in a public place (which we did whenever we saw the opportunity).

One day after school, I was taking my friend John home and as we drove around the corner of the building, he said, "Hey, isn't that your brother, Trevor?" I looked, agreed that it was him and hit the gas. I sped across the parking lot and hit him with the passenger corner of my bumper. His legs got swept up, he went over the hood and his back crashed into my windshield. I locked up the brakes and he slid off the front in a heap.

John was freaking out while I got the subtle nod from Trevor that he was okay. As John was trying to help him up, I was screaming about the damage to my broken windshield. I kicked Trevor, drug John back into the car and sped off. The reaction we got from John was worth the months of practice and cost of a new windshield.

As I am telling story after story, my daughter was writing as fast as she could. By this time, her friend Taylor had shown up at our house and she interjected to question the truth to some of the stories, but Kirsten assured her that she had heard them before from both my brothers and our mother. They were true.

Fire Stunt Tip: Diesel burns slower
than gasoline, but it is much hotter.

Taylor made the comment that her dad would never tell her some of the stories I had just shared, even if they were true. It then occurred to me that she had a point. I wasn't just telling old stories of my younger days, I was talking to my daughter, who I am supposed to protect. I had just told her about how we would set each other on fire and run for the nearest body of water. She now knows that we hopped moving trains and jumped from car to car. I told her how we rode our bicycles off the roofs of houses and climbed underneath moving vehicles. These are not the kinds of stories my kids need to hear.

It is rather difficult to tell my daughter that she shouldn't drive her car up steep embankments (just to see how far it can go before it flips), when I had just told her how much fun it was. I had not been paying attention as I told my stories and forgot who my audience was, but now that I was aware of the situation I changed gears.

Me: "If you even think about doing any of the things I just talked about, you will never leave this house again!"

Kirsten: "Oh, don't worry about that, Dad. I am much smarter than you."

6,000 and Counting

2012-01-29T22:28:00.000-06:00

I started blogging in October of 2010 and fell in love with it. I started this blog because, Alex, the boy my daughter was dating encouraged me to start one. He had made one for school and was really enjoying it, so I thought I would give it a try. I am so happy I did. I turns out that I love blogging.

I don't know how much other people like my site, but I really enjoy it. It has been a great release. Plus, I get to have fun being creative and telling stories. Sometimes the posts were funny (or meant to be), sometimes confessional and occasionally reminiscent. Some of them I labored over and others I just cranked out before I went to bed. Either way, I wish I had started doing this years ago.

The pictures don't always have to make sense!

The beginning of this month marked just over 14 months of me pounding on my keyboard. My blog was visited about 4,500 times during that period. That averages out to just over 10 views per day. However, this month has seen a drastic change.

Today, I reached the 6,000 views mark. This means I've had about 1,500 views in the last three weeks. That is over 60 views a day. I've been blogging for 15 months and 25% of all the traffic I've received has come in the last month. Before this month it took me over 4 months to get that many views and now it has happened in 3 weeks. So what happened? I have some theories.

One of the causes for this was completely on accident. On January 4, a friend of mine (Adam) had a rather embarrassing medical issue. I took him to the emergency room and blogged about it the next day. That story became my most read post before the day was over. Adam sent the link out to all his Facebook friends and they swarmed in to see what he had been griping about on his Wall for the last 24 hours. This gave me a quick surge of about 400 views in a couple of days. This number may be common place for some bloggers, but for me, those numbers were huge.

On a side note, I want to make it clear that I don't just humiliate people because I have an audience on the web. After I wrote the blog, I saved it to be approved by Adam before it was posted. Once he gave me the 'OK', I published it. He received several phone calls and sympathetic comments on his Facebook wall for the next few days. While Adam did appreciate the extra attention his new-found fame had brought him, he unexpectedly found himself to be a bit distressed for approving the story. It was disconcerting for people to be so acutely aware of what most would have wanted to be a private experience. After telling me his concerns, I agreed that from this point forward if I write about any of his adventures or mishaps, he will be referred to as Stephen. He found that to be acceptable.

Versatile?
I think that is a nice way
of saying I can't focus
on any one thing.

While that post did provide me with a quick surge in my numbers, it was not the only thing I did. A few months back, I was given the 'Versatile Blogger' award (Thank you Brandie Boddie). Besides the prestige of receiving the award, I was to do something. The award required me to share a few things about myself and pass the award on to seven other bloggers. Unfortunately, I really wasn't reading many blogs. That was the second time this had happened to me. I received an award that I was supposed to pass on, but did not know who to give it to. I didn't want that to happen again, so I started looking for other blogs to read.

Once again, I wish that I had done this earlier, because there are some great writers out there. Some of my favorites are Creative Devolution, Crack You Whip, The Bloggess, The Cowardly Feminist, "Jen" e sais quoi, GweenBrick, Misadventures of the Monster Library, Mayor Gia, Pish Posh and Wait in the Van. This is in no way an exhaustive list. It is just a few of the blogs I have grown to love in the last month. There are many more, but these are the first ones that came to mind. I started thinking of some others, but I figured the list is long enough. To those people I listed, I love you all. Thank you for the opinions, laughs and words you have shared.

Now that I am actually reading other blogs, I have started seeing a huge increase in traffic. This was an unintended,but much appreciated result. After reading their posts, I always left a comment, because I know how much I love to get comments. I really want to know what my readers think of the post or what thoughts come to mind as they read it. It is frustrating to check my stats and discover that one of my posts has had 50 or more visits and no one left a comment, so I always leave one. I do this because I think it is nice and as a blogger I understand how much those comments mean to me. Because of those comments I left, many the blog owners come over to check out my blog and I even pick up traffic from some of their readers. Now, I am getting regular traffic to my site and didn't even mean to do it.

HOORAY for accidental victories!

Thank you to those of you who have been reading since the beginning and welcome to the new people I have met in the last month. I look forward to getting to know all of you better.

Let's see how long it takes to reach 10,000. Now that I have more traffic, I had better produce quality funny.

Ear Plugs Are for Old People

2012-01-26T16:47:00.002-06:00

My son, Christian, called me last week to see if I was going to his show on Saturday night. As a parent who wants to be supportive of his offspring, I told him I would be there. I feel that I have time to make up for since I missed so many of his Little League games due to my ~~disdain for sports~~ job. He may have just been calling because he wanted a ride for him and his equipment, but I do try to make it to one of his shows at least every six weeks or so. While I do enjoy being there to show my support, it is sometimes rather difficult to ~~endure~~ be there for him. We have a history of doing crazy things together, but it is not as easy as it used to be. You see, I am forty years old and Christian is in a death metal band.


He looks more devious in this picturethan real life.

I have no problem with this band. They are actually very talented. That may be hard to believe coming from me since I am his father, but it's true. They really are very good. I could especially tell during this latest show since they have better equipment now and it no longer sounds like a rhinoceros having an epileptic seizure in a small garden shed filled with empty tin cans. I still have no idea what words are being screeched out of the singer's mouth, but I can make out the individual instruments. Before, it was just an involuntary violent rape of my auditory organs that took days to heal. The improvements in the quality of their equipment proves that shopping for the best deal isn't always the way to go. TIP: If you want decent sound quality, do not buy your equipment at BIG LOTS.

Almost every time I have seen them play has been at the same venue. It's the closest place they play to my home, but it still takes about 45 minutes to get there. I believe the building is a youth center during the week, but on weekends it is a showplace for bands. They get some great groups in there. We are in southern Illinois and that night they had a group from Evansville, Indiana and one that had driven all the way from Nashville, Tennessee.

I have worked with youth for about 20 years and have dragged kids all over the country to various events, trips and sometimes concerts. I have been to more than my share of events geared towards a younger crowd, so I know how this works, but I believe I am beginning to reach the end of my days in these settings.

I think he has a bee in his shirt

Christian's group , Odysseus, played second, so my entire reason for being there had come to an end early in the evening. There were seven bands playing and I already felt a headache coming on. I knew I had hours ahead of me and sitting in a corner waiting for the time to pass would have been more uncomfortable than sitting through an episode of Intervention at Lindsey Lohan's house, so I stayed in the heat of the action. However, avoiding injury is a prominent concern for someone who doesn't recover as quickly as he used to.

I tried to capture some video of what was going on in the 'pit,' but the room was too dark to get anything of quality, so you will just have to settle for my descriptions. I hope you appreciate them, because in order to get the scoop, I had to put myself in harm's way fighting to stay on my feet. I have been in plenty of mosh pits and done the crazy slam dancing and thrashing, but I have outgrown it. When I look at it now, it seems stupid. I can't believe I ever used to enjoy getting hurt.

He didn't duck fast enough

They don't just jump and throw their arms around with reckless abandon unconcerned for the people around them, some of these guys are jumping up and doing roundhouse kicks into the crowd. Now, for the people that want to get in the middle of it and participate in this, that is their business If they get hurt, they knew what they were getting into. A person cannot jump into a pool and then be mad because his hair got wet. However, there are some that are there to listen to the music and are not 'in the pit.' Just a little common decency would ensure that they would be safe. Unfortunately, there are some idiots who insist on involving people that do not want to be involved. One rather heavy set headbanger would start backing up until he was at the edge where there was a line of people watching the show. Once he felt he had reached the crowd, he would start jumping and doing donkey kicks behind him striking whatever person was unlucky enough to be close to him.

PILE UP!!!

Other people crowd the stage to be in front of the dancers, avoid the pit and get closer to the music, but some of the dancers would grab bystanders and fling them into the crowd. There was no place safe unless you got far from the area. I was about as close as one could get without actually being in there. I tried to stay alert so I wouldn't get cold-cocked, but was knocked to the ground a few times. I wasn't really participating, but wanted to get some good pictures. I did my best to protect my camera.

Don't forget to protect your face

I hung in there, visited with people and actually had a great time, until about 11 o' clock. I was just spent and there were still two bands to go. I couldn't leave since I was Christian's ride home and we had to take some of the equipment back with us once the show was over. At that point, I found a comfortable spot to sit and waited it out contemplating the aches I would inevitably feel in the morning. Christian even came and joined me. We made fun of some of the little people in the mosh pit that were trying to hold their own against the more seasoned and larger thrashers.

Despite my age and reluctance to jump right back into another night of that chaos, I did have a good time. In fact, the band has asked me to serve as their band manager when they go on tour this summer. I have agreed, but have concerns about what this experience on a daily basis will do to my ~~eardrums~~ sanity. Nevertheless, I will be there to:

Review contracts
Work the merchandise table
Find safe places to park the van for sleeping
Guard the van while they sleep
Maintain the tour blog
Confirm show dates
Lug equipment in and out of van
Ward off crazy fans and groupies
Navigate to the next stop
Taste test for poisoned food
Keep track of the money
Make sure they bathe
Never sleep

After all, a musician's job is to write and play music. They have people for all that other stuff.

This summer, I am those people.

Put Down the Books.......Now, Back Away

2012-01-20T20:19:00.000-06:00

I am having a lot of difficulty organizing my time lately. The place this is most evident (for the people who are not in my house) is in my blog. I have a very inconsistent blog schedule. One week I will post three times and then I won't put up another post for over two weeks. I have made promise after promise to myself and my readers that I will start blogging regularly. I set a goal for myself of at least twice a week several months ago, but it never lasts long.

I don't know if this is a valid excuse to throw out there, but I have been taking classes to get my Master's degree in Teaching. While this does not take up all of my time, it does make me feel like anytime I spend doing anything other studying is wrong. I do understand that other pursuits are not wrong, but I still feel guilty for some reason.


The book is as exciting as this picture. "Hey, let's stand around and talk!" Somebody SHOOT someone. PLEASE!!

I have been reading Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities for months. MONTHS!!! Literally. The book is not that long, but I just can't seem to make any progress on it. There are two reasons for this. The first one, I already mentioned. I feel guilty when I read it. As soon as I pick up the book, I feel that I should probably be reading one of my textbooks or doing research for the multitude of papers I will be writing for the next few years. Second, (and I think this is the biggest deterrent) it is so incredibly boring. I know this is supposed to be one of the classics that everyone should read, but I am not enjoying this. Unfortunately, my OCD does not allow me to stop reading it. I have to finish. I have never started a book that I did not read to the end.

This may not be a good thing. I actually have a list of books that I call my Bucket List Books. It is my gargantuan list of books that I have to read before I die. It had over a thousand titles on it when I started and I have since added to it. I started this task because of a book I came across in the library one day. Some of them I have enjoyed, but there have been several I have had to fight my way through. Now that I have this added guilt when I am doing anything besides studying, I don't know that I will read for fun ever again. At least, not until I graduate. Of course, then I will have to read boring book reports written by acne-ridden adolescents about a book that I found boring to begin with. Since I plan to be a math teacher, the books will be even duller than usual. Math books, although educational, do not make for very interesting reading. Although, sometimes the word problems can be pretty entertaining.

Amanda had three older brothers. One day they sent her into town to buy them an apple. Since apples cost 30 cents, they each gave her a dime. When she reached the store, she discovered that apples were on sale for 25 cents. She purchased the apple and returned to her brothers. She gave them the apple and the 5 cents in change. To thank her, they each gave her a penny. Since they each gave back a penny out of their original dime, that means each brother contributed 9 cents.

9 x 3 = 27 30 - 27 = 3

Because there was a nickel back for change, which Amanda gave to her brothers, and they each gave her 1 penny out of the nickel, there is only 2 cents left. Where is the extra penny?

I don't know how long I will be entertained by math word problems, but they will have to sustain me until I get therapy or something. However, I can't get therapy until after I have graduated, because I have homework to do. Therapy would just make me feel even more guilty for neglecting my studies.

This is the same reason I have not been blogging much lately. I get up in the morning thinking I need to post something, but then realize that I really should be doing school work. Once again, my good intentions are turned towards learning about cognitive development and why some kids can't make friends. Considering how much I am paying for this and the amount of debt that I will be in once I am finished, the therapy should be included.

Once again, I am pledging to ~~obsess~~ blog at least twice a week. I love you guys. Please help me find the extra penny.

Get the Groundhog Here...NOW!!!

2012-01-12T19:08:00.000-06:00

This a reworking of a post from November 2010. I have been busy with school work, so I pulled out an old one. It still applies today as much as it did then.

We have had a very mild winter before today. It is the middle of January and had days that were in the 60's just last week. I have known that the cold was coming, but have been praying for a very mild winter. However, this morning I woke up to snow on the ground and the temperature never got above freezing. Tomorrow is supposed to be even worse. The forecast predicts a high of only 29 degrees. This can only mean one thing, but I really don’t want to admit it. I think winter is coming.

I hate winter. Actually, the word 'hate' may not capture what I want to say; I loathe winter. Despise. Abhor. Deprecate. Detest. You can pick your favorite verb here, I really do not care for winter. I don’t like the icy roads, the constant and very real danger of slipping and breaking a bone, the extra preparation and supplies to keep in the car, the increased utility bills, the snow shoveling, the snow getting tracked into the house, the salt build-up on my vehicle, the need for extra clothing, the increased commute time, and the COLD.

Many people try to claim that winter is pretty; that the snow covering everything is beautiful. I will argue that it is not. When I lived in Puerto Rico, my brother sent me a picture of his backyard so I could see what I was missing. I don't know what feeling this was supposed to give me, but I don't think it worked. I really didn't miss it at all. It didn't bother me in the least that I wasn't there to see it. While he was having to dig his car out of his driveway and spend money on tire chains, I was less than a mile from the beach and eating mangoes on my front porch. Can you imagine the difference? Do you really think I was upset that I had missed the icy scenery of the backyard?

While I can give some (although limited) appreciation for the beauty of fresh, fallen snow; it has some serious limitations. The beautiful places are generally uninterrupted by people (i.e. open fields, mountains, Antarctica, Zac Efron movies). However, those are also not places in which people have to function. When the snow falls where we have to live and work it is not nearly as breath-taking. It is much more than just not pretty, it is a real hassle to have to contend with. How many times in the winter have you gone out to your car to leave for work or school just to discover it will take an extra 20 minutes to get out of the driveway because of the previous night's weather? Or maybe you planned ahead and dug a path in the driveway the night before, but woke up the next morning to find that snowplows clearing the roads had buried the last six feet of your driveway under two feet of snow and rock that is now frozen. Or maybe you are running late for work because your car door was frozen shut. After fighting Jack Frost for half an hour (or longer) you now have to brave the condition of the roads caused by this 'beautiful' landscape.

NO THANK YOU!!

As if walking in this treacherous, slippery landscape wasn't enough, you must do it with limited mobility due to the extra weight and restrictive clothing required to survive. To get through the winter we have to wear coats, thermal underwear, nonskid (and waterproof) boots, scarves, stocking caps, earmuffs, gloves and other various miscellaneous items. A family of four has to get up an extra 90 minutes early in the morning just to get everyone dressed.

Winter clothing choices cannot be taken lightly. For example, when choosing gloves you have 2 choices: you can either (a) keep you hands warm, or (b) move your fingers. It is up to you to decide which is more important.

There is still the worst part of winter to contend with: the COLD. Some days it is so bad it takes your breath away as soon as you step out the door. You must dress appropriately if you want to survive your excursion out of the house. If you go overboard and dress too warmly you will start to sweat. The perspiration could then freeze and crack your face exposing your brain to the elements. If you do not wear enough clothing (or choose something that doesn't break the wind, isn't waterproof, or gives easy access for bathroom breaks) then you run the risk of various winter ailments. You could get hypothermia, pneumonia, frostbite, or Mad Cow Disease. Midwestern Mothers are always warning their children to wear a hat over their ears because if the ears get too cold they could freeze solid causing them to break off if the child turns his head too quickly. Every winter numerous fingers and toes are lost to frostbite, not to be found again until the early spring thaw. Unfortunately, by then they are too soggy to do anything with.

As much as I hate this season, I think I am ready. I have stocked up on soup and coffee and have signed up for all online courses for my college classes. I am not leaving my house until March. And that will only be to get umbrellas, raincoats, and a canoe, because it will then be time for the torrential spring rains. I hate spring.

Enough, Already

2012-01-06T10:40:00.000-06:00

In just the last couple of years I have come to grips with the fact that I am getting older. I am not completely falling apart, but am beginning to recognize the signs that I cannot physically act like a teenager any longer. Actually, I am 40 and haven't been able to do that for quite some time.

I am a reasonably healthy person who gets around well. I don't want to paint the picture that I am falling apart. It's just that I have noticed some of my parts are starting to come loose. Before I jump down from a ledge, I stop to consider my knees, feet and ankles. I never used to give it a second thought. During more strenuous activity, I have to think about what I have going on the next day, since it may take a day to recover. Last year, I was laid up for a week from running down a hill.

I have gotten accustomed to the small (and some not so small) aches and pains. Muscle tension, joint discomfort and other issues are just part of life at this age. They haven't had much effect on me yet, but they are noticeable. However, every now and then, something happens that makes me scream at my body, "Oh, come on." Last night was one of those times.

I pulled a muscle in my jaw while flossing my teeth.

Despite everything I just wrote, I am still a young man. I go rock climbing and rappelling. I still throw myself into the mosh pit at concerts and jump at the opportunity to do things like skydiving or bungee cord jumping. I just take a little longer to recover than I used to. However, apparently, I am too old to open my mouth wide enough to floss the teeth in the back of my mouth.

When I felt the pain shoot down the side of my neck, I knew what had happened. While the pain was located in a specific spot, the other muscles in my mouth and throat seized for about 15 seconds. I couldn't talk, swallow or move my head. My first thought was, "Great. Now I am going to have to communicate through one of those computerized talking devices like Stephen Hawking." No woman would ever talk to me again, but it might be worth it to scare off small children.

Once the muscles relaxed, it didn't hurt much. In fact, I forgot about it until I yawned as I was headed to bed. Opening my mouth that far was uncomfortable, but not too bad. The real problem presented itself this morning. When I woke up, even my teeth hurt. During breakfast, I discovered that I cannot close my teeth all the way. My teeth do not meet in the back, so I have to eat soft foods. This is not because it hurts. They just don't meet. Hopefully, this will self-correct as the muscle relaxes.

Despite what I said a few paragraphs back about being young, I don't feel it this morning. I can't even eat solid food. I makes me wonder how long I have before my daughter tosses me in a nursing home. I can already picture myself slurping my JELL-O, attempting to keep it from dribbling out of the left side of my lips and saying "WHAT!" every time someone speaks to me. It's not hard to picture since it is what I am doing today. (My hearing has always been bad. I had the nickname BELTONE in high school.)

In a few days, I will be talking normally and plan to use that opportunity to explain to Kirsten that she will not be going to college, but staying at home forever to take care of her old man. I never know when my body might break again. I could sprain an eyelid while blinking or dislocate my shoulder while reaching for the salt. I can't be too careful.

She will be so excited.

Abscessed Adventures with Adam

2012-01-05T08:19:00.000-06:00

I first met Dr. Doolittle back in August. Today we crossed paths again, but this time it was not for me.

Early yesterday morning, I took my daughter to school and started off for Greenville College. Since all my classes are online right now, I rarely need to go to the campus, but I had an issue with my financial aid that needed to be sorted out and decided to do it face to face. I was about 2 minutes from getting on the interstate when I received a call from my buddy, Adam.

Adam: Are you on the road yet?
Me: I'm still in town, but headed out. Did you decide to go with me?
Adam: No. I need you to take me to the hospital.
Me: What's going on?
Adam: I don't want to say, but there's a lot of blood.
Me: I'll be right there.

I turned around to find out what calamity had visited Adam. I get to his house to find him groaning and attempting to put on some pants to leave the house.

Me: What happened?
Adam: I am bleeding from my groin!

He then gestured toward the bathroom. I peered in and saw blood all over the toilet seat, the floor and the sink. Not just spatters, but a lot of it.

Me: Did you have your period?
Adam: Very funny. Can we go now?

On the way, he explained that he had developed an ingrown or infected hair follicle a few weeks ago high on his inner thigh. Not a big deal. It happens. But this one didn't just go away in a few days. It got infected and grew. Adam did not get too concerned about this. He has seen his share of medical problems and was not going to get worked up over a little swelling. Three years ago, he had his feet amputated after being in a three-week coma due to the toxic shock his body endured from developing a rare blood disorder. He spent a lot of time in the hospital and almost died, so this appeared trivial in comparison.

After mild discomfort for a few days, the real pain started when he went to bed that night. He endured it until morning and it ruptured somewhere between getting out of bed and going to the bathroom. After having a seat, he discovers his hand is covered in blood. A quick check confirms the area he is bleeding from and the inevitable freak-out begins.

Once he realizes what has actually happened, he calms down a bit, but is still in a lot of pain. Despite most of the pressure from the infection being released, he now has an open would on a very sensitive area. It hurt to move or even let the air touch it. That's when he decided to call me.

Our local hospital is under heavy construction, so there are no decent parking spaces available. And due to him only having stumps for feet he cannot walk vary far. I let him out at the ambulance entrance and went to find a parking space. I walked in a few minutes later and asked what room the big guy that walks funny was in. He yelled from one of the rooms. The curtain was closed so I could not see anything, but the smell hit me right away. The blood, sweat and fermented pus was perfectly combined to create an odor that should be manufactured by the military to drive out enemy insurgents.

Since Adam has had so much experience dealing with medical professionals, he has learned how to communicate with them very efficiently. Any time one of them touches him, he screams a string of profanities loud enough to make the windows shake. The nurse said, "I just need to see it." Adam tried to kick her with his stump.

Once she left, he asked me how bad it was. He hadn't seen it because it was in a precarious place where he could not get to it. The last thing a guy wants to see is the groin area of one of his male friends. It's worse than talking about feelings or admitting you like Cher. I didn't want to look, but I try to be a good friend and he really wanted to know. I mentally secured myself in my masculinity and took a look. He attempted to show me, but all I saw was a bloody mess. I never saw the actual rupture. Plus, exposing the area reignited the smell. I gave a quick nod.

Adam: How bad is it?
Me: Oh, you don't want to know. It looks awful. Bloody, fleshy mess.

In walks Dr. Doolittle. The last time I saw him, he was inserting a needle into the joint in my shoulder. Click his name if you don't know what I am talking about. He pulls the sheet back to take a look and does what every doctor does. He starts poking around the injured area. Adam quickly becomes vocal again. When Doolittle squeezed the area to see if anything came out, Adam reached a decibel level not heard since Hiroshima.

Doolittle released his grip, smiled at Adam and asked, "Did that hurt?"

Now that may sound cruel, but it was actually funny. Dr. Doolittle has a great bedside manner and said it in a way to lighten the mood. Adam laughed through his tears. He then told us it was just an abscess that needed to drain for a few days, gave Adam some tips to take care of it and prescribed some antibiotics.

Exactly two minutes later, the nurse walks in with his prescription and insurance info. I immediately complained, "When I was here, I had to wait in the room for at least 45 minutes before you guys came back in to let me go. How does he get such fast service?"

She calmly replied, "When you use the words he used and at the volume he uses them, we want you out of here as fast as possible."

I told her, "I will remember that."

Award for Playing on my Computer

2012-01-03T12:30:00.000-06:00

I messed up. I really messed up.

I love writing my blog. I enjoy meeting and talking with other bloggers. I love seeing my stats go up and reading the comments that people leave on my posts. I have been trying to make sure to always leave a follow-up comments to anyone who leaves a comment, so they know that I did see it and appreciate them reading my ramblings. However, I dropped the ball on this one. I was reviewing some past blog posts to see how well I had covered a topic I was considering revisiting, when I came across a comment I had forgotten about.


This proves my blog has no specific point. I can ramble about anything and everything. I talk in the same way.

I won a blogging award last October called The Versatile Blogger. It was given to me by blogger Brandi Boddie of Colorado. Brandi is an author of Christian romance and will be having her first novel published this fall. You can visit her site by clicking here.

I was excited to get this award and do the follow-up that goes along with it, but something happened. I don't know what it was, but somehow, it got put to the side and I just forgot about it. I want to blame my school schedule, which is what I blame for most things that I forget. It gets people off my back when I apologize and say, "I'm sorry. I was so busy with my research paper, it must have slipped my mind."

It doesn't matter if it is true or not. They usually buy it. So, I am going to use that excuse again. I was very busy with school and didn't even feed my daughter that week. Luckily, she is of an age she can feed and dress herself. I forget she is in the house most of the time.

So, I am revisiting what I was supposed to do back in October. According to Brandi, I am supposed to follow these rules.

List 7 things people may not know about you.
Pass the award on to 7 other bloggers and let them know they have won.
Don't forget the thank the blogger who gave the award to you.

I will start with the last one. Brandi, I do appreciate the award. Thank you so much. I hope you didn't think I had just carelessly cast it to the side when you sent it to me. I have no real excuse. It just got away from me. Thank you.

7 Things People May Not Know About Me

Besides my daughter, most of my time is spent with Adam Elliot. This may not be a very interesting fact, but every time I write a new blog, he says, "I bet I am not even mentioned." Most of the time, he is right. However, this time, he will be wrong. He even got listed at number one.
I don't like most people. I don't know why this is, but I don't. I enjoy socializing and meeting new people. I like to get out of my house and go where I can find people and have interesting conversations, but I don't necessarily like the people I am talking to. I think I hide it well, but I have been that way for as long as I can remember.
I love dill pickles. A jar of pickles does not last long in my house. I put them on everything.
The inside of my head is a sick and twisted place. My Facebook profile gets a steady dose of the things that I find funny and go on inside my head. However, it is heavily edited. I very rarely let out the things I am actually thinking.

I wish this would happen to all of them.

I have had a pet tarantula and will pick grasshoppers and cave crickets up with my bare hands, but am terrified by a praying mantis. I don't know why, but I can't get far enough away from them. I hate them. They are so creepy. No other bug bothers me. And for anyone who thinks now that they have this information, it would be funny to scare me with one, be warned. I will not hesitate to hurt you and will not feel guilty about it.
I talk to myself most of the time. Occasionally, I actually speak out loud. I am usually able to play it off once I realize I have done it, but sometimes the words that just blurted out of my mouth are rather embarrassing. Since I don't like most people, I don't really care what they think, but my daughter thinks I am nuts.
When I get my teaching degree, I plan to get a contract with the Department of Defense and teach on military bases. I am willing to go to any base in the world.

My Versatile Blogger Recipients

Click the titles to visit the page

I only discovered A Softer World recently. The blog posts consist of a picture or series of pictures with a clever caption or saying to go with it. I love this blog.
Shane Morgan's blog In Shane's Brain covers a variety of topics. He writes about whatever is on his mind that day. Sometimes funny, sometimes thought-provoking.
A few months ago I discovered The Cowardly Feminist by Vesta Vayne. I love hearing about her adventures in Pasadena and thoughts on every day struggles we all face. She posts 3-4 times a week so there is always something new to read. She has self-published two books. This is probably my favorite blog to read.

I know I am supposed to give this award to seven people, but I really don't read that many blogs. I do have a few more, but they have either already received this award or are very well-read bloggers who would not ~~care~~ notice if I awarded them with this. Here is a quick list of others I read, but I will not be sending them notification. The Blogess, Guilty Squid, The Weed, Oh Noa, and God's Comic. The Cowardly Feminist is one of those blogs with plenty of readers, but I thought it deserved a special mention.

Other blogs I read are usually about technology, photography or graphic design. They sometimes bore me despite being topics I am interested in, so I will not pass them on to you.

Brandi, thank you once again for the award. It is appreciated, even if it took me three months to say so.

Has Another Year Gone By Already?

2011-12-30T15:46:00.002-06:00

New Year's is right around the corner and 2011 is coming to a close. The earth (and it's inhabitants) are another year older and what do we have to show for it? I reflected on the past year and tried to decide what was significant. Some of it was only important to me, but here is what I can remember.

January
12 - The year kicked off with the passing of one of our beloved pets. Kirsten's tarantula died (read about it here). She had lovingly named him Hitler when we got him and just as lovingly tossed him in the dumpster when he stopped breathing. This made me consider two things: First, what would she do with me if I died and second, do spiders breathe? I mean, they don't have noses and I don't feel like looking it up right now. Someone explain it to me.

That same day, the youth minister at our new church asked me if I wanted to help with the jr. high kids. We had been in town for three months at that point, I hadn't assaulted anyone yet and my background check came back clean, so they figured I was safe around their kids. The journey to influence young minds in a new town begins.

14 - I started a new job at a factory in the neighboring town with three letters for its name. I never asked what the letters stood for, so I can only guess. I was hired on to work in Quality Assurance. I was one of the most hated people in the plant. Apparently, they hadn't really had much of a quality control program in place and suddenly I come on the scene with the job of catching peoples' mistakes. Some department supervisors would actually refuse to let me on their floor. Since I was only there to tell them what they were doing wrong, I can't say I blame them for not liking me, but since the management couldn't be bothered to make sure people cooperated so I could do my job, most of my time was spent arguing with people and trying to force my way into areas I was not welcome. To make matters worse, my paper work often got other people fired, demoted or sent off for training and they gave me an office high above the factory floor so I could observe the line workers. Guess how many friends I made there.

15 - Kirsten sensing my stress or trying to butter me up for something, does the dishes for the first time since we had moved. I believe that was also the last time. She is not very domestic.

February
1 - The first day of February we get hit with a snow and ice storm that was predicted to be the biggest since weather started being recorded (read about the Snowpocolypse here). Stores were cleared out of merchandise and we hunkered down expecting the worst. It was a bad storm, but not nearly the size they warned us about. Our power was out for a little over 4 hours, school and work were cancelled for a few days, but we survived.

These things never end well.

25-26 - At the end of the month, I took my first trip with the Moweaqua youth. We traveled to St. Charles, MO for a CIY/Believe conference. In my efforts to be a good leader, I managed to secure front row seats for my group. Unfortunately, this got us so close to the stage that one of my kids was pulled up and put into a guillotine by a magician. As the responsible (sic!) adult, I quickly had to decide if I would allow this to happen. He really had his head secured in a device made for cutting it off. Do I play it safe, make his parents happy, rush the stage and save this kid OR trust that despite how scary this looks, the people on stage are professionals who know what they are doing, but risk a decapitation of a pre-teen on my watch. After a quick but heated deliberation amongst some of the saner voices in my head, I decided to pull out my camera to document the event. Whether we took him home with or without his head, either way I could show his parents how it went down.

March
12 - After two months as a hated Quality Assurance specialist, I decided to quit my job before someone made good on the various death threats I had been receiving. This gave me a lot of extra time at home, which led to the discovery that I could link my XBOX to my computer through my wireless router. Suddenly, my TV in the living room had access to all the movies and music on my hard drive from the computer in my bedroom. Since we didn't have cable, it gave us another much appreciated option for TV viewing.

BAZINGA, loser!!!

While bragging to my neighbor across the hall about my technological prowess, she advised me that the cable jack in my apartment was active. I scoffed but tried it as soon as I got back into my apartment. She was right. I had never hooked the cable up because I had not ordered it, but the entire complex was wired with basic cable. After 5 months of watching the same DVDs again and again, we now had live television. Kirsten and I cried while we watched Big Bang Theory. It was a happy reunion.

19 - This month was also the occurrence of the Supermoon. While I expected to see a big cape on the moon for that evening, I was disappointed to learn that it only means the moon will be about 15% bigger than usual. I was even more disappointed when it was so cloudy that night we couldn't even see the moon, the stars or anything else that might be worth looking at. We live in a cruel galaxy.

11 - An event occurs outside of my own life that gets my attention. A massive earthquake hits Japan causing tsunamis and widespread destruction. We soon learned that a Navy friend of ours was on a ship just off the coast. He spent the next few months on site at the nuclear power plant that was in danger of meltdown. He assisted with containment and cleanup.

April
8 - This month brought to an end the several months long wait to see if Congress would be able to come up with a financial plan to keep the government from shutting down. Everyone was waiting to see if income tax checks would come, social security pay out and government offices stay open. With less than an hour to spare, they came up with a new plan. Now our trusted elected officials have a little more time in office to vote for higher congressional salaries.

14 - A few days later ABC announces the cancellation of the long-running soap operas All My Children and One Life to Live. Housewives everywhere cried out to Oprah to save the shows. Oprah made a tearful statement of her own. She loved these shows, but being in show biz, understands that networks have to make these decisions and she would not intervene with ABC. Her and Eckhart Tolle then prayed to themselves and began mentally broadcasting the soaps directly into the minds of the Oprah Book Club subscribers.

17 - Quickly approaching completion of my bachelor's degree, I turn in my proposal for my final research paper. It was 10 (TEN) PAGES long. Notice this was not the paper, but the proposal introducing the paper that was to come later. This forced me to consider how much I really wanted this degree. The actual paper was long enough, I should get it published so people everywhere could use it as a paperweight.

May
1 - President Obama holds press conference announcing that Osama bin Laden has been killed by U.S. special forces. Osama, shot in the face while holding one of his wives in front of him as a shield and surrounded by dozens of cases of Pepsi, still went out with a little more dignity than Saddam when he was dragged, un-bathed, out of a hole in the ground.

7 - My daughter leaves me that evening to attend her first Prom (click here). I spent most of the evening looking around town for good places to hide a body if her boyfriend did not heed my warnings for the evening.

11 - Turn in the last assignment for my degree (click here). I suddenly have a lot of free time.

18 - I receive my degree in the mail. I took my first college class in August of 1989 and received my degree in May 2011. At just a few months short of 22 years to complete my degree, I decide it must be time to figure out what I want to do with my life.

Dogs don't have souls

21 - This marked the day of Jesus' Second Coming according to preacher Harold Camping. Many of his immediate followers gave away all their belongings while others used their life savings to take incredible vacations to spend time with their families before rising into the sky for the Rapture. As for the rest of the world, the Armageddon hoopla prompted hundreds of clever Facebook updates. My daughter and I spend the day inflating 38 blow-up dolls with helium and released them in a mall parking lot that evening. The subsequent crowds and traffic accidents were not amusing to local law enforcement.

25 - Bigger than news of the potential end of the world was the actual end of the Oprah Winfrey Show. After 25 years, Oprah brings her show to an end. Whether a fan of Oprah or not, this event could not be missed since it was reported on every station. Oprah celebrated her departure by giving a new car to every person who has ever watched the show.

June
3 - The famed euthanasia enthusiast Jack "Dr. Death" Kevorkian dies from thrombosis of the liver caused by his Hepatitis C infection. The elderly now have to return to dying the old fashioned way...watching Matlock and Murder, She Wrote reruns.

16 - New York's 9th District representative Anthony Weiner resigns. Insert your own joke here.

July
5 - After months of capturing the attention of every media outlet, Casey Anthony is found not guilty of the murder of her daughter. The country is outraged and the jurors start clamoring for book deals. Due to the country's brain-dead interest in the crazy lives of dysfunctional families, the Anthony family will probably be the stars of their own reality show before the end of 2012.

August
6 - In retaliation to the police shooting of Mark Duggan, local youth started massive looting, burning down local businesses and inciting violence. This crime spree lasted four days. Sixteen people who had nothing to do with the shooting died in the violence. While this incident did create chaos for local law enforcement, the worst was suffered by local people and families that were unlucky enough to get caught by the thug mob.

17 - I receive my substitute teaching certificate (click here) so my circle of influence on the youth of my community grows a little bigger.

22 - I start my first class for my Master's degree. I quickly learn that Master's level work is not more difficult than work at the Bachelor's level, but there is much more of it.

22 - My daughter comes home from school with her driver's permit. This is followed by months of white-knuckled car rides. I soon bit through my lip while pretending to calmly observe and instruct. I decide I will never be a drivers' education instructor.

23 - A 5.9 magnitude earthquake centered 40 miles north of Richmond, VA rocked residents from South Carolina to Maine. Office workers in New York flooded the streets to get out of their trembling buildings and parts of the Pentagon and White House were evacuated. Residents of Los Angeles laughed at all the commotion over a little shudder.

September

Look, Ma! That's my name.

23 - I receive a Certificate of Commendation from the Jefferson County Sheriff's Department proving that I don't screw up everything.

24 - The UARS satellite falls out of the sky (click here) after years of wandering aimlessly around the cosmos. NASA had no idea where it would come down and warned that some of the pieces would be the size of a small bus, but reassured the public that they were in no danger. What more could we expect, they're only rocket scientists?

29 - I host a guest spot on THE VINE radio station (click here). I am invited back despite calling Christian radio "spiritual junk food" on the air.

October
5 - Steve Jobs, one of the greatest contributors to the technological age, dies. The world mourned because we had grown accustomed to looking at pictures of ourselves on devices he invented. iPads and iPhones all simultaneously powered down that day to observe a moment of silence.

22 - The St. Louis suburb of University City is overtaken by zombies (click here). About 500 of the undead terrorized the area's citizens and created untold chaos from six to nine.

31 - The population of the earth reaches 7 billion people, prompting renewed discussions about overcrowding. After driving through South Dakota and Wyoming last year, I think I have a solution. There is no one out there.

November
Nothing happened in November. It's not my fault, but nothing happened.

December
15 - Obama officially declares an end to the war in Iraq. American families are looking forward to having their family members home to share the burden of unemployment, climbing taxes, wide-spread foreclosures and rampant crime rates.

I love movies...and me!

17 - Crazed South Korean dictator and star of Team America, Kim Jong-Il dies. A few years ago, when he was warned by several countries and the United Nations to cease the development of his country's nuclear program, Kim Jong-Il responded by sending them invitations to watch his first nuclear missile test. Long the fodder of late night jokes and SNL skits, comedians everywhere pray that his son will be just as crazy just without the pursuit of nuclear weaponry.

2012 - While we do not know what to expect from the new year, hopefully you are looking forward to it and are willing to take control and make it your best year ever. Just keep in mind that the Mayan calendar stops and the world is supposed to end on December 21, so you have a little less than a year left to do everything you have ever wanted to do. Don't blame me if you drag you feet.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

MC Hammer is Black

2011-12-23T17:51:00.005-06:00

Due to my recent YouTube addiction (click here), last night my daughter and I were discussing music and pulling up videos on the XBOX. I do not remember exactly how we got to this part in the conversation, but my daughter made some comment about the white rapper MC Hammer. I laughed and she gave me a funny look. I thought she was making a joke that I was just not cool enough to get.

ME: Kirsten, MC Hammer is black.

KIRSTEN: No, he's not.

ME: Yes, yes, he is. You must have him confused with Vanilla Ice. (I figured since we were discussing music from before she was born, she must have switched some people.)

KIRSTEN: No, I don't. Vanilla Ice did ICE ICE BABY and the stupid song for that Turtles movie.

ME: (very impressed by the movie reference) I know who he is. So who are you talking about?

KIRSTEN: MC Hammer!!! You know! U CAN'T TOUCH THIS (she demonstrated the trade mark dance) He wore those ridiculous parachute pants.

ME: (impressed again) Well, that's the right guy, but he's black.

KIRSTEN: No, Dad, he's white. Why do you always lie to me?

ME: Are you messing with me?

KIRSTEN: Never mind.

There were always questions
about Michael Jackson, but this guy
is definitely black.

Since most of our conversations end that way, I stopped trying. However, I did turn to the XBOX to find the video. As soon as his face hit the screen, she excitedly exclaimed, "Since when is MC Hammer black?" She even posted the question on Facebook. She sat and watched the entire video to confirm I was telling the truth. When it was over, I asked her, "So, who were you thinking of?" She replied, "It was him. I just thought he was white."

This conversation was the first thing on my mind when I woke up this morning. How did this happen? Have I failed as a parent? I have put forth great effort into exposing my kids to music and film that go beyond what the masses tell them to like. My daughter is a great lover of foreign cinema and independent films. My son once impressed the adults on a long bus trip when he knew all the words to the songs they were singing, despite the fact that most of them were popular twenty to forty years before he was born.

Kirsten's musical tastes include Frank Sinatra, David Bowie, Blondie and the Beatles. She does listen to today's music as well, but it is groups like Hush Sound, Dresden Dolls, Clocktower Showdown and Bobby Birdman. You don't hear these groups on the radio. She has a very broad and eclectic musical taste. So, what happened here? If I have somehow missed this, what else might she be misinformed about?

Does she know that Garth Brooks and Chris Gaines are the same person? Did she miss the clues that 99 Red Balloons was an anti-nuclear arms song? Does she know the secret identity of Hannah Montana? Does she understand the connection between Taylor Swift, Kanye West and Beyoncé Knowles?

Maybe, I am looking at this the wrong way. It could be that I have done a superb job of helping her to see past color and just recognize people. That would be a good thing. For most people, if they don't know who a rapper is, they would start with the assumption that he is black, but not my daughter. She doesn't stereotype people. However, I can see issues with this as well.

Would George Lopez still be funny if you didn't recognize he was Mexican? Chris Rock's career is based on his color. If he told those same jokes and my daughter thought he was white, would she find them racist? Where does she stand on the color of Martin Luther King? Would it make a difference? Can she tell the difference between Jamie Foxx and Jamie Farr? Or Will Smith and Wil Wheaton?

I believe I am making too much of this. I have a tendency to over think things. Plus, this one simplified itself for me later. When my daughter rolled out of bed at two in the afternoon and groggily slurred out "Good morning," I figured it out. I'm getting her tested. Maybe she's just not very bright.

Another Way to Waste My Time

2011-12-19T10:40:00.006-06:00

I finished my final class for the semester last week. I now have one semester of Master's level work behind me and I have discovered that work at this level is not really harder than Bachelor's degree work, . . . but there is a lot more of it. My professor, apparently, does not believe in grades. I have this class a week behind me and have still not seen a grade from the first week of class. I have no idea where I stand. I believe I did well, but have no way to prove it or really have any confidence at all.

Since I have finished the class, I find myself with much more free time. My schedule at the Sheriff's office is set for the next month so I can't get any more hours there to take up time and being the end of the semester I am not getting many calls to substitute teach. Therefore, I am home all day.

My Christmas shopping is done, the house is clean, I don't like people enough to want to go out and see anyone and it is getting too cold to leave the house anyway. Shaving only uses up about 10 minutes and can only be done once a day. Trimming your toenails can take up more time, but once they're done, they require no more maintenance for a few weeks. I have reached a point where I do not know what to do with myself.

I am currently working my way through
season four of Prison Break

A few days ago, I pulled out an old video game I hadn't played in a while and spent the day with my XBOX. I had fun. Especially since I have gotten XBOX LIVE since the last time I really played any games. I use it mostly for access to Netflix instant streaming. I don't watch a lot of movies on it, but there are so many old TV shows that I missed when they were on, it can easily burn some hours. However, you can only watch so much television. I decided that I could spend some of my time over the break playing video games, so I went to my brother's house to try to con some video games from his sons.

I asked if I could borrow every game they are not currently playing and they happily handed them over. To my surprise, there was no need to make a deal or try to trick them. That must mean I have some endearing qualities. Or maybe I was the recipient of their Christmas charity. I haven't decided yet, but I've been playing those games for the last week. They have been an entertaining way to pass the time, until Saturday.

That afternoon, after enduring an office Christmas party, I came home and fired up the XBOX. As the screens were loading, I noticed a new symbol on the right panel. It was the YouTube logo. I downloaded the free app and fired it up. YouTube videos are now accessible from the XBOX. How cool is that? I spent the next several hours pulling up some of my favorite videos and searching for a few new ones. This has since become a problem. I can't seem to get enough. This is one of the videos I have been wasting my time with.

I have spent literally days watching old skits from the Muppet Show, SCTV, Saturday Night Live and Whitest Kids You Know. I have pulled up old cartoons to show Kirsten. Some of the ones from last night include: Grape Ape, Speed Buggy, Ricochet Rabbit, Captain Caveman and Superchicken. We have watched music videos, videos our friends have made, sang along with Biz Markie and observed an alien autopsy. I have watched 'how-to' videos on how to escape a bear attack, how to throw your voice and how to safely build a self-detonating door knob bomb. ANYTHING you want is at your fingertips.

Many of you may be thinking, "YouTube has been around for years. What's the big deal?" Let me try to explain.

It's now on my TV!!!

These useless videos are no longer hidden in the recesses of the Internet on my computer in the back room. They are in my living room. I cannot get away from them. How many different electric guitar renditions of Beethoven's 5th Symphony do I need to see? Practical jokes, nut shots, cute animals, BMX wipeouts, UFO sightings, impossible basketball shots, llamas with hats, magic tricks, vaudeville, karaoke and any other event that has ever been captured on camera is there. Every time I turn on my television from this point on, I will be faced with the reality that I can watch literally anything I can think of. I will no longer have to scan through the channels to see what is on, because everything is on. Ten years ago, I would have thought this was awesome. Now that it's a reality, it's a sensory overload. Yet, I can't look away, I can't go to bed and I can only answer the door to show someone a video of the latest bum fight.

It's a little depressing, but I have come to grips with the knowledge that I will one day die surrounded by potato chip bags in front of my TV. When the paramedics arrive, they will take their time removing me so they can finish the episode of Fraggle Rock playing on the television.

BACON: The Main Reason I am Not a Vegetarian

2011-12-16T11:33:00.001-06:00

Thank you, Ian Cates for this blog topic. Suggestion given when I wrote What Am I Supposed to Write?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

There are many things that bring me pleasure in life. It is healthy to occasionally reflect on the blessings you have. Here is a small list of things that make me happy.

Days I don't have to go to work

Getting a new Netflix movie in the mail

No longer having to use a dial-up Internet connection

Being seen by someone I know in Wal-Mart who then does NOT feel the need to come talk to me

Playing with Bubble Wrap

Getting a good parking space

The sound of no one knocking on my door

Anything involving BACON!!!

I think the hardest part about being a vegetarian
would be hiding my bacon from my vegetarian girlfriend.

Bacon is one of God's greatest gifts to mankind. It was so special, He made his followers wait thousands of years before they were allowed to eat it. According to Old Testament law, pigs were one of the many animals that were considered unclean. When God lifted the ban on unclean animals to Peter in the Book of Acts, Peter had no idea the treat he was now in for. For the first time, we could eat BACON!!!

Life just wouldn't be the same without it. Frying bacon is one of those smells that will pull a person out of a deep sleep and wandering into the kitchen. The sound of it popping as it fries in the skillet makes your mouth water. Nothing else tastes like bacon. It just may be nature's most perfect food.

Before we go any further, I want to make it clear what I am talking about here. There is no other animal from which you can make bacon but a pig. I know you can buy a pseudo-product in the store called turkey 'bacon.' That is not bacon. It may have a few similarities, but it is not bacon. It doesn't fry right, smell right and definitely does not taste like the REAL bacon. Bacon, by definition, is a pork product. For the remainder of this blog, keep in mind that when I use the term bacon, it is to refer to the only true bacon. It does not involve any product made with turkey, chicken, beef, kittens or soy. Now let's move on.

This man knew the value of bacon

One of my favorite authors, Lewis Grizzard, wrote a book about his heart valve replacement surgery. When the doctor's told him that his heart valve would be replaced with a valve from a pig's heart, his first thought was, "Will I still enjoy bacon?" If part of your body has been replaced with pig parts, is it even right to continue to eat the animal? He never did decide if it was right or wrong, but knew he would never give up bacon. If it happened to me, I would always wonder if I had ever eaten from the same animal that was now also part of my body. What would you call that? Is that cannibalism? Does that only apply to humans? Is it still cannibalism if you eat part of your own body? If so, does chewing your nails make you a cannibal?

Regardless of the ethics behind potential cannibalism, bacon is not to be taken lightly. In fact, in the last decade bacon has started to appear in all sorts of places that it hadn't been considered before.


Chocolate chip bacon cookies!!! Is there anything that bacon cannot do?

I have seen bacon brownies, maple bacon lollipops, bacon pizza, bacon coffee and bacon scented candles. Last March, Denny's restaurants (jumping on the bacon bandwagon) started serving a maple bacon sundae. Bacon is everywhere and it is here to stay. Not that I am complaining. I would put bacon on everything if it were not for the serious health repercussions that would go along with it. However, it would almost be worth it.

You know that place in your head you go to when things are really stressful or too much to take in the real world? For some, it is sitting on the beach with some fruity drink in their hand. For others, they go back to a favorite childhood memory. For most, it is some quiet, safe place that makes them feel warm and fuzzy. That special place in my psyche is an image of me eating a plate full of bacon with grease dribbling down my chin. I have all the fixin's on the table in front of me to make bacon cheeseburgers and fat BLTs (light on the tomato, heavy on the bacon). Tia Carrere is also there, but just to help me make sandwiches. She doesn't get any. It is the way I imagine heaven to be, but with no cholesterol.

Today's Secret Word is ... WAR!!!

2011-12-01T13:26:00.002-06:00

I have learned something about myself. I am going to do what I want, pretty much when I want to do it. Last August (click here), I committed to posting a blog a week and a couple of weeks later (click here) I up it to two posts per week. If you follow my blog regularly, then you know that I have only posted twice since September. That is one post per month for the last two months.

I could tell you how busy I have been working two jobs, being a graduate student, trying to get a new business off the ground and being a single father of a teenage girl, but I don't like to make excuses. I have actually done a lot of writing lately, but it has been for college papers and is not something most of you would want to read. When I have free time during the day, I usually find myself at my buddy Adam's house watching him play XBOX 360 and helping him find the shortcuts as he plays Need for Speed, or decoding the ancient vaults in Elder Scrolls: Skyrim. Since Adam is handicapped, he doesn't get out much and he starts making weeping phone calls when he gets bored, so I go to his house at least once every day.

I say all this to simply state, it doesn't matter what I promise in this blog, I will probably end up doing what I want. With that stated, here is something I promise to do (but don't take it too seriously). In August, I asked my readers to suggest future blog topics. I received several suggestions and do intend to cover them all. You can read the suggestions by clicking here and scrolling down to the comment section. My brother suggested that I write about who would win in a fight between Mr. Rogers and Pee Wee Herman. I will be tackling this topic today. I was excited to start researching this since they each had illustrious careers as military snipers before going into show business.

Years ago, a girl told me that the reason Mr. Rogers wore those sweaters all time was to cover the tattoos on his arms he had acquired during his military service. He was ashamed of the things he had done in Vietnam and the people he had killed during his service and kept them covered. A kid from my church that was enlisting in the Marines wanted to be a sniper. He was told by his recruiter that the top sniper ever to come out of the Marines was the famous Mr. Rogers. The sniper with the third highest marks ever was Paul Ruebens, known to his fans as Pee Wee Herman. It turns out that both of these men were to be feared at one point in their lives, so Kyle had chosen two men who actually knew several ways to kill a man. They were chosen because of their innocent demeanor, but using their pasts could make a great blog. In order to make the best comparison, I researched both their lives to get the best idea of who did what. This would help me determine who would win.

As I began my research, I discovered that many children's television stars had a military background. In fact, many of them were highly decorated and had unusually high numbers of enemy kills. Captain Kangaroo was especially vicious. Don Knotts, best known for playing Deputy Barney Fife on the Andy Griffith Show, was someone not to be messed with in his military days. However, as I dug further, I discovered something else they all had in common. IT WAS ALL LIES!!!

None of these stories are true. In reality, Don Knotts was in the military, but he was not a drill instructor at Parris Island, like the rumors say. At 19, he joined the Army, where his duties consisted primarily of entertaining the troops in traveling GI variety shows called "Stars and Gripes". Rumors that Bob "Captain Kangaroo" Keeshan fought beside Lee Marvin in Iwo Jima during World War II are also false. Lee Marvin was there, but Keeshan did not enlist until two weeks after we pulled out of Iwo Jima. He never saw any action. Where do these rumors come from?

Won't you be my neighbor?

Many people may not want to hear that the gentle, soft-spoken Mr. Rogers was exactly what he appeared to be, but he was. Born in 1928, he spent most of his childhood living with his grandparents. He saw television for the first time at his parents' home when he was in college. It left such a negative and lasting impression on him that he became dedicated to changing it. He attended a seminary after college, became an ordained Presbyterian minister and started immediately working in television. Rogers was an advocate for family-friendly programming and even testified before the Senate to try to clean up television. He was also a staunch supporter of the VCR. When most studios were trying to get them outlawed, he testified that many channels showed childrens' programming at times when children were not available to watch it. With the new technology, they could tape it and watch it together as a family at a later time.

The sweaters were intentional, but had nothing to do with covering tattoos. Sweaters and sweater vests were the clothes worn by figures of authority in the seventies. Teachers, minsters and others dressed that way and that was the image he was trying to express. Even though, Mr. Rogers bored me to death even as a child, he was a good man who didn't think like the rest of us and wanted to change the world for the better.

Today's secret word is CREEPY!

Paul Reubens (a.k.a. Pee Wee Herman) left for Hollywood immediately after high school to become a star. Practically living on the streets, he hooked up with a comedy troupe called the 'Groundlings.' In 1977 the group did a skit where they created characters one might see in a comedy club. Reubens character was one that everyone immediately knew would never make it as a comic. He couldn't remember punchlines or get his cues in the right order. Pee Wee Herman was 'born' that night. His distinctive guttural "Ha Ha" followed by a low "Heh Heh Heh" became his catch phrase. As well as, "I know you are, but what am I?" The rest is show biz history. At no point did the military fit in there.

This leaves me with the problem of now having to size these men up and decide who would win in a fight knowing that neither of them has probably ever been in one. Lets start with their physical attributes. I think Rogers has the weight advantage, is taller and has a longer reach. Pee Wee Herman is kind of petite. However, I can picture him being much better at the 'duck and weave.' He may be able to get close, get in a few shots and get back out before the slow-moving Rogers even gets his hands up. However, I think Rogers could take a punch much better than Pee Wee. If Pee Wee gets tagged it may be over.

Look at all the dead puppet BODIES!!!

Fighting is not just about strength and agility. It also involves attitude and in some cases a little bit of crazy can get you a long way. Mr. Rogers spent half of his time in a Land of Make Believe, a world that didn't exist, but he liked to go to from time to time. For a child, that is having a creative imagination. For a middle aged man, it is disturbing. Rogers' world had a king named Friday, Queen Sara Saturday and a retarded prince named Tuesday. Amidst these puppets whose mouths didn't move was the occasional costumed person named Purple Panda, Bob Dog or Bob Troll. It even had a talking owl, known simply as "X." Was the owl a spy? Why the secret identity? There were lots of creepy little secrets in Rogers' imaginary world. On Purple Panda's planet, the citizens are forbidden to sit in rocking chairs. Prince Tuesday went to school in the Land of Someplace-Else with a neighboring tiger. What kind of kingdom doesn't even have it's own school? Your head is a creepy place, Fred Rogers!

MORPHEUS!!! What are you doing?

Pee Wee Herman lives in a fantasy world as well, but he passes it off as real. In his world, his house is alive, the furniture talks and he can climb into his television to go for an adventure. Like Rogers, he has many guests to his home, but instead of the mailman or a teacher visiting, he has cowboys, the King of Cartoons and Captain Carl dropping in. The creepy factor of Pee Wee's Playhouse is higher than Mr. Roger's Land of Make Believe. While children might make a wish on a falling star or a four-leafed clover, Pee Wee makes wishes over a head he keeps in a box. Pee Wee has a robot servant named Conky and somehow forced Lawrence Fishburne into a child's cowboy costume. That's the creepiest one yet.

MEKA-LEKA-HI MEKA-HINEY-HO!!!

Mr. Rogers took on a government agency (FCC) almost single-handed and he won. That makes him pretty tough. However, Pee Wee has a criminal record, and based upon the nature of his charges, I would say he is probably better in dark places and at hand-to-hand combat. Rogers' on screen appearances after his show were mostly talk shows, but Pee Wee appeared two years after the cancellation of Playhouse as the vampire Amilyn in Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, he was a super-hero in the movie Mystery Men, and he has appeared on Wrestlemania and WWF Raw.

Look at this guy. Would you want to fight him?

After weighing all the options and looking at the stats, I have to give it to the one who lived on the streets in California, and can make children everywhere scream by only uttering a single word. It's not even the same word each time. He just tells them what will cause them to scream and it does. Pee Wee Herman would mop the floor with Mr. Rogers. It would be no contest.

For Whom the Bell Tolls...Please, Not Me!

2011-11-06T12:49:00.001-06:00

As of right now, my phone has rung a little over 40 times today. This is not counting the text messages I have received, which is over twice as many, just the actual phone calls. I didn't answer many of them, but it was not because of any adverse feelings I had toward the person who was calling, but for a much simpler reason: I HATE TALKING ON THE PHONE!!!

I really, really do and I don't use the word 'hate' loosely. I absolutely do not want to talk on the phone with anyone. About 10 years ago, I worked for a cell phone company and even then only had a phone because they gave me one and told me that was how they would get a hold of me when I was not at work. I gave only my immediate family my number. I didn't even have a house phone at the time. I didn't want one.

The only reason I later got a phone was because the cellular company offered $20/month discounts on one line for employees and my wife was dying to have one. There have been periods since then that I have been without any type of phone service. In fact, if I could have my way, I wouldn't have one now.

Because I am a substitute teacher, most of my job assignments are gained by receiving an early morning phone call. As much as the sound of that phone rakes on my nerves, it also means money, so I tolerate it. Plus, having a teenage daughter, I like to occasionally know her whereabouts. Once I am permanently employed and she is moved out of the house, I will probably cancel my phone service once again.

People have heard me gripe about my disdain for phones for years. When I started at the cellular company, I worked in the tech department and since it was a locally owned business, we could fix phones right there on the spot. I saw all types of people with different phone needs, but had the following conversation a thousand times:

ME: Ma'am, it looks like your (insert random piece of circuitry) has gone bad.
CUSTOMER: What does that mean?
ME: Not to worry. I can fix it!
CUSTOMER: How much is THAT going to cost me?
ME: Not a cent. I can do it right here.
CUSTOMER: Well, aren't you a wonderful, handsome young man.
ME: My mother thinks so.
CUSTOMER: Tell her she did a fine job!
ME: Thank you, ma'am, I will. Here is your service ticket. I should have your phone ready by noon tomorrow.
CUSTOMER: (surprised) Tomorrow?
ME: (proudly) Yes, ma'am! We try to be fast. One day turn around.
CUSTOMER: (flustering) Well...what am I supposed to do until then?
ME: Excuse me?
CUSTOMER: What am I supposed to do without a phone for a whole day?
ME: The same as you normally do, but without a phone.
CUSTOMER: (angrily) Listen, you ugly little cretin, I'm supposed to go to my mother's tonight.
ME: (confidently) Well, if you are going to be at her house, then you won't need a phone. You can talk directly to her.
CUSTOMER: Are you trying to be smart?
ME: One of us has to be.
CUSTOMER: (feigning shock) How dare you! Do you know who I am?
ME: (proudly) Yes, ma'am, I do. You wrote your name on this invoice.
CUSTOMER: I'm going to call your manager!
ME: (apologetically) You won't be able to reach him until tomorrow afternoon.
CUSTOMER: And why is that?!?
ME: You won't be getting your phone back until then.

No signal!!! Should we just die now?

That conversation happened over 10 years ago and people were not nearly as dependent on their phones as they are now. The very idea of stepping foot outside the house without a cell phone petrifies many with fear. What if I get a flat tire? Let's try to break this down. What did people do 20 years ago if they blew a tire? They did crazy things like change it, or in extreme cases, walked to the nearest house to make a phone call.

People went on dates without having a phone, they drove across the country, kids went to school and somehow the human race survived. I am not an advocate for getting rid of phones. I don't care for them, but if someone wants to have one that is their right. It is the ridiculous notion that a person will not be able to function without one that I object to.

Regardless of the opinion I have had of phones for many years, this blog was sparked by the fact that my phone has been ringing more and more lately. For several years, my phone (when I had one) rarely rang. My friends and family were very aware that I would rather chew on bloated dung beetles than get tied up in an involved phone conversation. Any time I handed out my number, I carefully explained that if the need ever arose to call me, they were to say what they had to say and then let me go. Do NOT call me 'just to talk.' Do NOT get off topic and NEVER, EVER call me and then say, "Hang on, I have another call." I guarantee I will not still be on the line when you come back and probably won't answer when you call the next time.

Only a very few people abide by the rules I request when I hand out my number, therefore, over the years when I moved or got a new phone, the number of people to get my number greatly decreased. I moved to central Illinois a year ago and got new phone service when we hit town. The new number was given to less than a dozen people. I hate talking on the phone so much, I didn't even give it to my girlfriend, who now lived more than two hours away due to my recent move. My reasoning was fairly simple. I knew if I gave her my number she would abuse it, by doing things like...calling, wanting to talk, etc. Needless to say, we are no longer dating. Unfortunately, nothing in this paragraph is a joke.

I was never irritated that she called me before the number change. I was irritated as soon as I heard the phone ring that ANYONE was calling me. A ringing phone is an intrusion into my peaceful abode. It grates on my nerves, my hair stands on end and I feel stressed as soon as my phone starts to ring. It doesn't matter who is calling me. I hate it. I don't know why I feel this way, but I am acutely aware that I do feel it.

A few people, knowing how much I hate phone conversations, will text me. This is great as long as they can text and I can respond and then be done. If it goes back and forth more than three times, then it is now more nerve-grinding then just talking. A 10 minute texting storm could have been completed in 60 seconds by voice.

For those of you that have my number, please know that I do not screen my calls. If you call me and I do not answer, it is not because I don't want to talk to YOU. Don't take my not answering personally. Me not answering is usually because I am done with my phone for the day and have turned it off or it is in the other room and do not feel like going to find out who it is. If my daughter is safe at home, that is usually the case. If you leave me a message, and I know that I will be seeing you in the next few days, I will wait until then to conclude the conversation. If you don't leave me a message, then I will assume that it wasn't that important and I am grateful I didn't pick up the phone in the first place.

I am not anti-social. I like people and LOVE good conversation, but I highly prefer it face-to-face. If you have a problem with the blog I have written today, leave a comment, send me a Facebook message, email me, take me to dinner to discuss it or drop by my house, but do not, under any circumstances, CALL ME. Especially if we will run into each other anytime in the next year. We can catch up then.

The Freaks Come Out at Night

2011-10-24T11:39:00.004-05:00

In November of 1999, while walking the streets of Cincinnati at two in the morning, I saw a strange sight. About three blocks ahead of us were several dozen people wearing flashing headbands, crazy colored clothes and carrying large boxes. Being the curious person that I am, I ran ahead to see what this group was all about. As I got into the center of the group and was about to start asking questions, one of them reached into his box pulled out a handful of condoms and offered them to me. I was a little thrown off by the gift and wasn't sure what to say. Everyone in the group was carrying these boxes and they were all filled to the top. They had thousands of these contraceptives. In fact, the boxes were so full they were spilling out, leaving a trail behind them so they could later find their way home. I soon learned that I was walking with a gay rights group that was on their way to a local bar. They intended to run in, jump up on the stage with the band and start throwing prophylactics at the patrons. I shook a few hands, excused myself and hurried back to the hotel to share this story with my friends. You don't see something like this everyday.

In January of 2001, I was driving with my family in San Patricio, a suburb of San Juan, Puerto Rico. As I rounded a corner I noticed a few dogs standing on the side of the road growling at something across from them. As more of the street became visible, I was able to see that there was a line of dogs, about a dozen, standing side by side. Every dog was up on all fours, hair raised, baring teeth and glaring across the road. My son, Christian, asked what they were growling at, but our view of that side was blocked by a building. I made the decision to continue on my path and drive in front of them, but had everyone roll up the windows. As we crept forward, we were craning our necks to see what had these dogs so upset. Once we cleared the building, it was like a mirror image of the other side of the road. There was a similar number of dogs on the other side, staring back and doing the same thing. Was this some sort of canine street gang that was getting ready to rumble? We drove between the opposing sides and not a single dog broke his gaze from his counterpart across the street. I still don't know if that was a turf war, a fight over some road kill, or if they were going to serve up some doggy dance moves to settle their differences, but I did know that you don't see something like this everyday.

When you see something that unusual, it tends to stick in your memory. This past Saturday night was one of those nights. I was in the historical St. Louis suburb of University City with my daughter, Kirsten, nephews Gage and Isaac, and our neighbor's kids, Manny and Bryan. Delmar Avenue has several blocks of outdoor cafes, the landmark Trivoli theater, unique stores, restaurants and pubs. The sidewalks are filled with students from the nearby university almost every night. However, the locals were caught off guard by the people out that night.

There were zombies everywhere. Between 400-500 undead were wandering the streets, chasing civilians down to munch on their brains, and wreaking havoc over approximately a four block area. People sitting in outdoor cafes were stunned when a horde of zombies came lumbering down the sidewalk toward them. People driving on the street were rolling up their windows while others were snapping pictures. There were many mixed emotions observed on the faces of the people and children who were witnesses to this event, but one thing I knew. I loved it. This was one of the coolest things I had ever seen. I am a huge fan of horror movies and I like zombies more than vampires, mummies, or werewolves. Despite the screams of their victims, seeing them in real life like this was incredible. You don't see something like this everyday.

Zombie Crossing Guards

Despite the brain-dead appearance of the zombies, they seemed to be very well organized. They did not disrupt traffic, they used crosswalks, and even posed for pictures. One zombie even had a megaphone, yelling "What do we want?" The horde would chant, "BRAINS!" There were zombie families, zombies in wheelchairs, zombie dogs and zombie babies. They were everywhere.

This event, called a Zombie Walk, was actually organized by a few local college students. They set up a Facebook page and asked people to show up in zombie costumes. They gave a time and place and then just sat back to see who showed up. With close to 500 participants, I think they had a good turnout. This kind of event is also called a 'flash mob.' A flash mob is when a bunch of people unexpectedly show up in a common place to perform some unusual event to surprise or entertain bystanders. In this instance, it was dress like a zombie and walk down the street. It definitely served its purpose. People were very confused. Lots of bewildered looks. Just as many smiles and a lot of people pulling out their cameras to document the story that their friends will not believe when they get back home.

High Society Zombie

Back in August, I created a list of things I wanted to do before I die. You can see that list here. One of the things on that list was to participate in a flash mob. I have now done that, so I can mark it off the list.

The kids and myself had a great time and have decided that we will look for more similar events to participate in. The hard part is learning about them. The organizers of flash mobs want to keep them as quiet as possible for the surprise of the people who will witness it, however, they need to publicize it enough to get participants. It is a fine line to walk, but the results are well worth it. Flash mobs have received a lot of criticism, but when put together well, they are of little disruption and people seem to enjoy them.

I learned of this event a few weeks ago and decided to come check it out. There was no charge to participate. We just had to pay for the gas to get there, a meal to eat while on the road, and a little bit of money for costumes. The entire night cost me less than $30 dollars and we had a great time. Next year, we will plan ahead a little more to create better costumes, but do not expect the expense to be any higher.

This guy never broke character

I have included several pictures. You can click on any image to see it in full size and if you would like to see all the pictures that were taken, feel free to visit my Facebook page. The link will take you right to the pictures.

Love the contacts. Really added to the look.

Family of Zombies

Zombies were busting out everywhere

The horde that I brought

Gage had a zombie related accident

DT or not DT

2011-09-30T21:53:00.002-05:00

This has been one of the busiest weeks I have experienced in a long time, but it has also been incredibly enjoyable. I have written many papers for college, attended a wedding, assisted in DJing another wedding with my buddy Adam (aka DJ TRAIN), cooked and fed breakfast to the Mt Vernon Rams football team, and spent some much needed and appreciated time with friends and family. It has been a great week, but yesterday was the high point of it all.

My next door neighbor is the program director for WVYN 90.9FM. This is a fairly young Christian radio station known as THE VINE. The station is named after the verses in John which state, "I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing." (John 15:1-5)

Despite how young this station is, it has grown very quickly and has been used by God in wonderful ways. The staff has prayerfully done their best to step back and let God take control and they have definitely seen the fruits of their obedience and reliance on Him. The station has gotten heavily involved in the surrounding communities and been successful in communicating with and promoting many contemporary christian artists.

Wednesday evening I was out in my front yard talking with Kevin (known as DT to his radio listeners), and he asked me if I was free the next day. Once I told him I had no plans, he invited me to come be on the morning show at the station. Anyone who knows me personally knows how much I love to hear myself talk, so the opportunity to bless hundreds of other people with the pleasure of my voice could not be refused.

Can you tell I was enjoying this?

As we were discussing details of the morning show, Adam Elliott drove up and Kevin (DT) invited him to come join us. So, Adam and I were on the road at 6 a.m. the next morning to join the show at 7 o'clock. We were thrown behind the microphones as soon as we walked in. We participated in the morning trivia games with the listeners, bantered back and forth with each other and took several calls. It was great, although a few times I had to be reminded by Kevin that his name is DT on the air. That was hard to remember since I have called him Kevin for several years. It took a little getting used to and I tried to do better, but I know I called him Kevin a few more times.

In the middle of the show it was time for me to do what I had been invited there for. Kevin had asked me to share a message on the show. I shared a topic that is often on my heart and I am always teaching to new Christians. It is a very simple concept. We need to be in the Word.

READ YOUR BIBLE!!!

In Yellowstone National Park there are signs all over the place reminding tourists not to feed the bears. There are a variety of reasons for these signs. One of the hopefully obvious reasons is the fact that bears are very large animals and can be extremely dangerous when they want to be. Feeding bears is not a safe activity for tourists. This also causes bears to start associating people with food and may endanger future tourists to the area. However, there is another reason that many do not consider. Feeding food to bears that was intended for people is not good for the bears. Bears are designed to eat berries, fish and various other bear-type food. It is very important that they eat the right foods as they are building up fat for the winter months. As bears hibernate, their bodies burn off the excess fat that they have accumulated over the course of the year. However, a bear that has gorged itself on Twinkies, Big Macs and cupcakes has built up a layer of sugar-based fat that will burn off too quickly during the harsh winter months. Because they ate junk food and not the solid food they were designed to eat, there is a highly increased chance that the bear will not survive the winter.

Likewise, there are many of us out there who go to church, listen to christian music, hang out with other christians, wear christian t-shirts and read great christian books, but are still (often unknowingly) starving spiritually. We do not recognize that we are only consuming Christian "junk food." Unless we are regularly taking in the solid food of the Bible, then when the struggles of life inevitably come along we are "like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind." (James 1:6) The best way to know Jesus and be grounded in what he teaches is to be familiar with the love letter God gave to us.

"For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through the endurance taught in the Scriptures and the encouragement they provide we might have hope."

Romans 15:4

"Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads."

Deuteronomy 11:18

Listening to sermons is a good thing, but should not be our only tie to Scripture. In Acts 17:11 the Bereans were commended for checking the Scriptures to see if what they had been taught was true. Surrounding ourselves with praise music is a wonderful practice and often helps to keeps us focused, however, it should never take the place of the depth of maturity and learning gleaned from personal devotion time in the Word. It is these kinds of practices that caused Paul to chastise the church in Hebrews 5:12 about still feeding on milk like babies, rather than on solid food as they should be. God wants us to know him and that is one of the reasons he gave us the Bible. We need to spend time in it.

I have absolutely no idea how many people got to hear that message Thursday morning or if it really touched anyone, but I had a great time sharing it. Kevin (or DT) even invited us to come back despite the fact that I said that christian radio was 'junk food' on the air.

The Sky Is Falling!!!

2011-09-25T16:05:00.006-05:00

All day Friday the TV screen was plastered with news about the NASA satellite that had fallen out of orbit and was going to re-enter the earth's atmosphere, plunging to earth, sometime in the next 12 hours. This satellite (Upper Atmosphere Research Satellite) known as UARS fell out of orbit in 2005 and has been wandering aimlessly around the cosmos for the last six years. Scientific speculation proposed that most of the 6.5 ton piece of metal the size of your average bus would disintegrate in the atmosphere before reaching the earth. It would be possible that 26 pieces may be large or dense enough to survive the journey. With newfound respect for the story of Chicken Little, many earthlings are wanting to tell NASA, "UP UARS!!!"

NASA officials estimated that the debris could fall anywhere between the latitudes of northern Canada and southern South America. Since basically no one lives north of Canada (who would want to) and there are only a handful of populated places south of South America, this prediction was of little comfort to 85% of the world's population. When asked why they could not narrow the path down more specifically so that portion of the globe could better prepare, the NASA spokesperson shrugged his shoulders and said, "What more do you expect? We're not rocket scientists!"

Then to add insult to possible, catastrophic injury, NASA puts out a press release reminding the planet's citizens that if you happen to find a piece of the satellite in your backyard or even lodged in your skull, you may not keep it. It is the property of NASA. Despite this warning, I have already decided what I would do with a piece of UARS if I do happen to find one. Depending in the size I find, I will either make it into a keychain, hang it off a necklace, or mount it in the front of my minivan. I overheard one person excited about how much technology could be pulled out of one of the downed chunks. I reminded him not to get too worked up about it for two reasons:

Any circuitry would be burned to a crisp upon re-entry
Your average run-of-the-mill smartphone has more processing power than even top-of-the-line government computers of 1991 when this space junk was launched.

Today, we are told that the satellite has fallen to earth, but the location of the debris field is unknown. These scientists either do not know as much as they would like us to think or the government has already set up classified forced quarantine areas and is currently in the process of sterilizing the scene and neutralizing any witnesses. Either way, we will probably never know the fate of this hunk of melted metal.

Those masks won't save you from falling space junk

I, for one, am proud to have survived another week of impending doom. Despite the odds, I am still alive and kicking after having lived on the New Madrid fault line most of my life, despite the earthquake that we keep hearing is one day going to kill us all. I live in Tornado Alley, which has the highest concentration of tornadoes on the entire planet. I have survived the SARS epidemic, the AIDS Armageddon, the asian bird flu, the West Nile virus, monkey pox and countless other diseases that were supposed to wipe our species off the earth. I am still here despite Y2K, the end of the world prediction last April, the Snowpocolypse of last February, the aligning of the planets in the 80's and the unexplained fame of Paris Hilton.

For years we cowered in fear, waiting for the terrorists to poison our water supply, blow up school buses, infiltrate our nuclear power plants, or blow up the Super Bowl. Now after successfully fighting for survival all these years, the government warned we could get hit by metal falling out of the sky. Our world has reached the point that no perceived terror is ridiculous. Putting all fear of what freaky sci-fi event will cause our eventual doom aside, there is something we all need to come to terms with. Anything can kill us and, in fact, one day will. Chuck Palahniuk wrote in his book Fight Club, "On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero."

Since we are all going to die anyway, how about we start to live?

2,087 Weeks Ago...

2011-09-19T22:36:00.000-05:00

I turned 40 years old today.

40 Forty

Does it look more ominous as the number or spelled out? I haven't decided yet. What does this number mean? Does it mean anything? Forty is one of those ages that just seems old. At least, it used to. I don't feel forty, but then I guess I really don't know what forty is supposed to feel like. Logically, the way I feel right now is what forty feels like. It feels pretty much the same as it did yesterday. So, if you want to know, forty feels the same as thirty-nine.

To be honest, it really doesn't bother me that I am now forty. It is just a number. Technically, I am one day older today than I was yesterday. Yesterday, I was one day older than the day before. Every day, I get one day older. It is a much easier frame of time to consider. It is rather difficult to make plans for a year at a time, but I can usually tell you what I will be doing tomorrow. So, using this frame of reference, I am 14,610 days old. Plus, since I actually quit counting after about 7,500, I just don't get that excited about it anymore. Once I hit 30,000 days, I will probably be excited to see a new day start. I may even be surprised, but for now, it is just another day.

To Tea or Not To Tea

2011-09-16T12:08:00.008-05:00

My blog is a little later this morning than usual. I like to have it up early by either having it written at least the day before and scheduled to post at seven the following morning or write it immediately after dropping Kirsten off at school. Today's delay was caused by a temporary beverage crisis in my house and it had to be remedied before I sat down to write.

Better than cocaine

About three months ago, I swore that I would not drink another soda until my birthday. My birthday had no special significance, it just gave me a tangible goal to shoot for. Due to a few health concerns, specifically, the pain in my throat and chest every time I had another Mt. Dew, I decided to give up soda for a while and see what happened. Starting the next day, I did not buy a soda on my way to work. Giving it up wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I drank a lot of water and bought the flavor packets sometimes to drink other things. Technically, it was still water, but I felt adventurous.

My birthday is Monday, and I look forward to meeting up with my old friend once again, but do not think I will go back to my previous amounts of soda consumption. I have less frequent chest pain and I have lost some weight, which was unintended, but much appreciated. Besides, I have found a new liquid love.

To brew properly is an artful science

My iced tea consumption has increased dramatically. I have always liked iced tea. SWEET iced tea. I don't care for the unsweetened. I am one of those people that cannot drink sweet tea in a restaurant if I have to sweeten it myself. It must be sweetened right after brewing while it is still hot. Then, it may be cooled. In my house it is made the correct way. I know exactly how long I like it to be boiled, the incredibly long time required to slowly get to the boiling point, what brand I like, the amount of sugar to add, the proper time to add the sugar in the preparation process and how long it must be cooled before ready for consumption.

I do not bottle my tea to take with me out of the house. It does something to the taste. I also do not put ice in my tea since the melting ice waters it down. I keep it refrigerated and pour into small glasses that will be consumed before the temperature rises to unacceptable levels. As you can tell, I only drink my wonderful creation at home, and when I am home, it is really the only thing I want to drink, especially now that I am not drinking soda. As I stated earlier, I have always enjoyed tea, but now it is a major staple in my diet.

I don't touch the Wilma ones. She never stopped nagging!

Besides, there are many health benefits to drinking tea. Tea is high in antioxidants which can play a role in reducing the risk of cardiovascular disease by decreasing lipid oxidation, reducing the instances of heart attack and stroke and beneficially impacts blood vessel function. Tea flavonoids lower the risk of certain cancers by inhibiting the oxidative changes in DNA from free radicals and some carcinogens. Tea also inhibits the rate of cell division thereby decreasing the growth of abnormal cells. Tea drinking has been associated with good oral and bone health and other compounds in teas have been shown to support the human immune system. I didn't just know all this stuff. I had to look it up. I found the information from this paragraph at the Tea Association of the United States of America website. Whether I knew it or not, it cannot be denied that tea can be very healthy. However, I believe that the amount of sugar I put in my tea absolutely eliminates any possible health benefits that could be gained from the original substance. That's why I take vitamins for my health; tea is for pleasure.

Since I am not drinking soda, and I save my water consumption for when I am out of the house, I went to get myself a glass of tea before I sat down to write this morning. The pitcher only contained enough for one glass. While that would be enough for getting me through my blog, I would be out after that and did not even have any tea bags in the house to make more. The idea of not having properly chilled tea in my fridge this afternoon was too much of a distraction to allow me to write, so I had no choice but to run to Wal-Mart and purchase my favorite brand.

I had no crazy adventures while I was there, but I didn't have time for any. I was on a mission. I got my tea, got home, started it brewing, and sat down to write. I am now enjoying my last glass from the pitcher and reveling in the knowledge that there will be more this afternoon. Finally, I can concentrate on my blog. That brings us back to where we started. I like to post my blogs earlier in the day.

Now, what was I going to write about today? I think I forgot to take my meds.

My Remembrance of 9/11

2011-09-11T06:42:00.015-05:00

On Friday, I had the privilege of substitute teaching at the Mt. Vernon High School. After working with preschoolers all week, I couldn't wait to get in a classroom with older kids. However, I had not considered that the day would have special significance. Since the 10 year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks falls over the weekend, many of the classes were showing a video and discussing this event and what it means.

I only showed the video during the 7th and 8th hour classes and several of the students exclaimed they had already seen it many times over the course of the day. It was a well made video produced either by the school or one of the students. It mixed various 9/11 footage with different students and teachers telling the story of where they were when they heard the news of the planes hitting the towers.

Afterwards, we discussed our memories and the importance of the event. Since the students were between the ages of five and seven when this history was made, they really did not understand the significance of the event at the time. It is just old history to many of them. The best I can compare to is my memory of Ronald Reagan getting shot. I remember it, but it wasn't that big of a deal to me since I was only nine years old. I did not understand the significance. Despite the fact that I was alive when it happened, it is just another part of history to me. However, I was an adult in 2001 and was quickly aware of what was happening as I watched the second plane hit the tower.

In July of 2001 I accepted a job with a private school in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Therefore, my family had only been on the island for a few months when September came around. I was working in my office when my secretary burst in very excited. She did not speak English and I really did not have a grasp on my Spanish yet. She was jumping up and down yelling, "Pastor, Pastor, Pastor....Ah....plane, plane grande....Nuevo York....plane...BOOM!" She was saying a bunch of other things, but she was very aware of the fact that I was not understanding her. I knew something was wrong, so I followed her to the radio in her office. I knew enough Spanish at that point that I could gather the general idea of what someone was saying. Since the first plane had just hit a few minutes before, the newscasters were talking very quickly and did not really seem to know anything yet.

I caught that a commercial plane had hit the World Trade Center, so I ran home to turn on CNN. At that point, this was just an interesting news story. Planes crash sometimes, but for a commercial jet to hit the World Trade Center was awful. Once I thought I understood what had happened I stood up to go back to work. As I took a step forward to turn off the television, the second plane came onto the screen and crashed into the second tower. I felt my heart sink. As the announcers were still in stunned silence trying to figure out what to say, I realized that this was intentional. I didn't know what that meant, but someone had planned this. The news anchor then started to say the same thing I was thinking. This was a planned catastrophe.

I then started to record 'CNN en Español' for the teachers to watch in the break room so they could know what was going on. I kept watching CNN and saw the live footage of the first tower coming down. I had taken the tape back to the school before the second one came down, but got to see the footage hundreds of times over the next couple of weeks. The rest of the day I spent in my office glued to the Internet news feeds to hear the latest information, but don't really remember the events for the rest of the day.

Not knowing what this meant for the country was the worst part. Would there be more attacks? Once we realized this had been done to us by a foreign enemy I wondered if we may even see enemy soldiers on our soil. How bad is this going to get? I never wanted to be back home in the States as much as I did during this time. If the fight actually makes it to our soil and we are fighting for our lives, I would much rather be in familiar territory than in this new land we were in. Since Puerto Rico is part of the U.S. and we lived within a few miles of a large naval base, there was concern of an attack on the island, especially since it is a strategic defense position for the East Coast. There was no feeling of safety just because we were so far away.

Over the next few weeks we were pulled over several times and had our car searched at various road blocks. The heightened security was very visible. I don't think we would have experienced that in the Midwest. As much as I was mesmerized by knowing and talking about the latest developments, soon the news services were issuing warnings about the possible damage we could be doing to our children by the constant bombardment of fear, death, images of crashing planes, people leaping out of burning buildings and other bad news. I realized I did need to protect my children's' minds, but I probably needed to do the same for mine as well. That constant state of stress is not good for anyone.

As time rolled on, different people began to have different reactions. Some expressed anger, others felt a deep pride, many signed up to fight in the military and a renewed patriot spirit grew strong. Since then, many things have happened and many things have been said. Some good, some bad.

Now, 10 years later, I don't know how to finish this blog. I want to wrap it up with some deep, insightful statement to leave the reader thinking or give a renewed sense of pride, but I have nothing. I wrote this to project my memory of that day and I know it is something I will never forget, but it is something that no one who lived through it will forget, regardless of what personal conclusions they came to over the course of the next 10 years. Some people applaud the president's handling of the situation, while others condemn him. Some people believe we have captured the people responsible, while others believe we have been chasing the wrong people. I have read about hundreds of theories people have for why we were attacked to begin with.

What have I learned? I am left with the impression of the high school English classroom I was teaching on Friday. These teenagers do not have the same level of interest in this anniversary as their parents. Despite the fact that they were alive when this happened, they were so young, it did not leave the impression on them that it left on me, much like my limited recollection of the Reagan shooting. Listening to the generation before me talk about the Kennedy shooting is entirely different than me reading about it in a history book. Listening to war veteran's recall the adventures and horrors of Vietnam or World War II reminds me that real people lived through these things. These are events that actually happened. Families were deeply affected and lives were changed by these events. Whether we are discussing the events of the Revolutionary War, the attack on the World Trade Center or anything history in between, these are not just facts, names and places to learn for school. They are a part of who we are and shape our identity as Americans.

We must never forget.

Living by Grace - Guest Post

2011-09-10T11:23:00.004-05:00

ATTENTION LADIES!!!

I did not write the following post. It was written by my friend, Jessica (Osborn) Patch. Jessica is a successful blogger and author. She and and five other female bloggers are starting a daily devotional page on Facebook, which will be launching on Monday, September 12th. Jessica asked if I would post her invitation on my blog. Here it is. I will let her explain the rest.

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What does living by grace mean to you? For me, it means walking each day knowing I am weak, but He is strong. I get tired, He never does. I stumble, He holds me up. I make mistakes, He’s perfect.

So many things pour into me every day. Responsibilities of being a wife, mother, employee, a writer, a woman (if you’re a woman you know what I’m saying). I wear many hats. I love each one. I love each responsibility, but they can all wear me out.

I need my thirsty soul, quenched. I need saturated with His love, with the washing of the water of His Word. I can’t be good at any of the things above, if I don’t first fill myself up with Him.

Can anyone relate?

And because I’m a woman, I like to share. Women love to share, don’t they? My husband is amazed at some of the things I’m willing to divulge to my girlfriends. I love it when a bunch of us get together and talk about life and most importantly the foundation of life. Jesus Christ.

It renews me, encourages me, revs me up, and gives me hope. We bond through friendship and faith. We care for each other, pray for each other, laugh together. It’s a wonderful experience, especially when coffee and chocolate are involved!

“…A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Ecclesiastes 4:12

Doesn’t this sense of belonging, renewal, and friendship sound wonderful? Wish you could have it on a daily basis?

You can.


Living by Grace

I’m honored to be partnering with some incredible women of faith who want to live by grace, together. We want a sense of community and camaraderie with other women. On September 12th, we’ll be launching a devotional Facebook community.
Living By Grace. We want to invite you to come by and let your souls be quenched, your minds and hearts challenged. Each day an amazing woman will bring the word through a devotional and feel free to mingle, chat, ask questions, and just have a good time.

We’re building bonds of sisterhood through faith and Facebook! Come and join us.

Contributing Writers
Jennifer Slattery, Joanne Sher, Patty Wysong, Lynda Schultz, Maria Morgan, and yours truly, Jessica.

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This is Brett again. If you are interested in being part of the Daily Devotional group, follow this Facebook link and 'like' the page. The first devo goes up Monday. There are already many women on the page getting to know each other before it starts.

Teacher Troubles

2011-09-09T11:05:00.006-05:00

A couple of weeks ago I wrote (read here) about my apprehension of returning to my high school alma mater as a substitute. The day really went very well. I only oversaw study halls, had really good kids and there is not a single teacher still teaching there from my days in those halls. However, being the beginning of the school year, not many teachers are calling in sick yet. That assignment, on August 26th, was my first and I did not get another one until September 7th.

I am going to school to be a high school math teacher and really only want to work with junior and senior high school kids, but until I get my name out there and the work starts coming in, I cannot be too picky about what assignments I will accept. I need the money and will take a job to get paid rather than sit at home waiting for the job I want. When I signed up with one of the school districts, they asked me if there was any age I did not want to work with. I told her that as long as I could change it later if needed, then I would take any assignment. She inquired, "Does that include preschoolers?"

Why? Why? WHY?!?

I had not considered that. Preschoolers? Do I want to work with little rugrats that aren't aware there is green slime creeping out of their nose and encrusting itself on their upper lip? Noisy anklebiters who are perfectly happy until, suddenly, they realize they have to pee and then all civility stops until their pea-sized bladder is emptied? Greedy little slobs who still haven't figured out how to get food to their mouths without covering the rest of the room as well? Tiny cretins who expect you to applaud wildly simply because they spun around without toppling over despite the fact that they knocked over two other children in the process? I will have to think about that.

As I filled out the paperwork, I considered the question she had posed to me. Actually, I don't want to lie. I pretended that I was considering the question. I did not want to give the slightest impression that I wanted nothing to do with those little..........I should probably stop right there. After acting like I had mulled over the question, I informed her that I was probably better suited for older kids. I declined to be on any lists for pre-school classrooms. If I were being perfectly honest, I really didn't want to be on any lists for any grade below 7th, but money is money, and what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

I was given a user name and password to a website where I could browse available jobs to sign up for. I fired up my laptop as soon as I got home and immediately snatched up a job at a small school on the other side of town. The site was very user-friendly and easy to navigate around, but it was very uninformative. Even after accepting an assignment, the only info I had about it was the time to arrive, where to report to and the name of the teacher I was replacing. A few hours later, I grabbed another job at the local junior high school. Finally, I was going to get to start working. Unfortunately, my first job was almost two weeks away.

When I arrived for my first assignment, I found the office and got signed in. The office told me the room number and suggested I familiarize myself with the room before the kids came in. When I walked in the room, I immediately noticed the tiny chairs around a table that was about 2 feet tall. OH NO!!! I quickly looked around the room. There were cardboard posters displaying things such as an apple with the word 'RED' and murals of the alphabet along the border at the ceiling. A little girl came in behind me and pushed her way past my legs to go to a desk covered with plastic frog cutouts with names written on them. She picked one up and stuck it on the bulletin board. Assuming the purpose of the frogs, I read it and asked, "Is that your name? Sakia?" She said it was. Reluctantly I asked, "And how old are you, Sakia?" She proudly held up three fingers.

I had a mini-panic attack right then, but believe I was able to hide it. Not that it would matter. What does a three year old know? Within a few minutes, the room began to fill with children. Some were crying, a few were asking to go to the bathroom and over half were overwhelmed with curiosity about who I was. Once they stopped coming in, I counted 24 little people. 24! What was I to do with these kids all day?

Y! Y! Y!

I soon learned that today we were to work on the letter Y. The outline of a capital 'Y' had been printed onto 24 sheets of paper. I instructed the kids to all rip up a sheet of yellow construction paper (yellow because it starts with 'Y') and glue the pieces into the 'Y' outline. This would make a large yellow 'Y'. Unfortunately, most preschoolers do not take instructions well. I believe this is why the unemployment rate is so high in this demographic.

While assisting one of the tables with the complex task of ripping paper, one of the boys looks at me and yells, "Did you forget to brush your teeth?" I know why he asked this. Due to a prenatal medication my mother took while carrying me, my bones and teeth are not white, they are gray. I have never had white teeth and never will. I told the sweet child that I brushed my teeth twice every day. He asked (even louder this time), "Did you forget today?" I said no and then told him that I have gray teeth. Mine aren't white like his. He grabbed my lips and said, "That's because you don't brush them." The honesty of children does not make them more endearing.

I did make it through the day. We read books, played outside and absolutely destroyed that classroom. However, I was pleasantly surprised that when I said it was time to clean up, the kids started grabbing toys, putting them in their containers and replacing everything on the shelves. The room was back to normal within a few minutes. Maybe they could get jobs in the cleaning service industry.

When the end of the day finally arrived, I went to the office to check out and inquire if there was anything else they needed from me before leaving. I was told they had been watching me on the camera system all day (creepy) and would like me to come back the next day if I was free. I choked out the words, but agreed.

I returned the next day and had a much better experience. Especially, since I now knew their names and knew which ones to keep a closer eye on because they were more prone to trouble (i.e. hitting, biting, wandering off, etc). I am absolutely certain I do not want to work with this age group for a living, but have learned that I can survive a day and am willing to be there when needed.

As long as they don't touch me when they're sticky.

Pratfalls, Planking and Pain: An Afternoon with the Minors

2011-09-03T12:23:00.008-05:00

Last week I asked my readers to give me topics (click here or here) to write about. I received several submissions, but my first response was in my comment section within a few minutes of posting the blog. Kalen Soger asked for my opinion on planking. Actually, she called it the incredibly stupid trend called 'planking'.

According to Wikipedia, 'Planking' or the 'lying down game' is an activity consisting of lying face down in an unusual or incongruous location. The hands must touch the sides of the body and having a photograph of the participant taken and posted on the internet is an integral part of the game. Players compete to find the most unusual and original location in which to play. The term planking refers to mimicking a wooden plank. Rigidity of the body must be maintained to constitute good planking.

Here is a video of planking pictures to give you a better idea.

As you can see, the concept of this fad is very simple. Lay stiff as a board in an unusual place and take a picture to post on the Internet. Despite the simplicity of the idea, I felt that I should go out and experience this new phenomenon before trying to tackle the topic. On Tuesday afternoon, Christian (my son) and I picked Kirsten (my daughter) up from school to go planking. Kirsten's friend, Taylor, called her mother to come along with us. The four of us then headed out onto the town to locate interesting places to get our pictures.

As we were driving around, we began talking about why people started planking to begin with. It is so pointless. A person lays down on something and then someone takes a picture of it. Why? I had to ask them why we do anything. Why did every kid in the world have to own tons of Silly Bands? Why did hula hoops ever become popular? Millions of people all over the country bought a large plastic ring so they could swivel it around on their hips? REALLY? The same goes for tossing a plastic disc around. If you think about it, the only reason frisbees still exist today was because of the frisbee fad they created years ago. Let's be honest, unless you have a frisbee-catching dog, they get boring real fast.

Does this look like fun?

People from older generations who say planking is stupid may have participated in their own fads during their youth. In the 1950's, youth flocked to the local town square to see how many people they could cram into a phone booth. Why did they do this? I don't know, but I do want to ask this question. Why not? It was just something to do. It was harmless and young people tend to come up with crazy ideas. In the 20's, flag-pole sitting became popular. Then, dance marathons became the activity of the 30's, and in the 40's goldfish swallowing became the new fad of the youth. During the disco years of the 1970's, when everyone's wardrobe drastically changed, streaking became a common occurrence. The 50's saw the birth of panty raids, which were born out of protests against curfew rules at co-ed colleges. Just a few years ago people started extreme ironing, which is simply ironing your clothes in the most incredible places you can manage.

I don't like to iron in my play time.

Regardless of someone's opinion of planking or any of these other activities, they are just something goofy to do. Is it stupid? Maybe, but it is not pointless. I spent an afternoon having fun with my kids and did not spend a penny other than the gas involved driving around. It's a harmless activity. Actually, I can't really say that, but I will explain that in a moment.


The rail hurt my chest


Once again, in the chest


Captain D's drive thru

The most challenging part of planking is finding the proper location for your picture. The actual act of planking is fairly simple. Sometimes it was difficult to get into position properly, but it didn't take long. If you look at the pictures, you can see that many of the times when I took the position, my legs and chest were hanging off the end of the platform I was resting on. Keeping my chest and head up were not that difficult, despite the fact that at my age, I could feel all the blood rushing to my face. The harder part was holding my legs up long enough to get the picture taken and I always tried to hold my stance until we had taken three pictures to make sure we had a good one.


Over water at Mitchell Museum

After getting several pictures at various places around town, we went to the Mitchell Museum to walk the grounds behind the building. We thought the museum would have many great picture opportunities we could try to plank on. In this picture, I used an old diving board platform that went over the water. It was one of the few things we found back there. There were plenty of things to look at, but not much built for laying on. We were determined to find something for a great picture. After walking around and being disappointed at the lack of planking opportunities, we came across a park bench. After some of the pictures we had already taken, I figured laying on a park bench would be rather uneventful, but I had an idea. If it worked that way it looked in my head, it would be a great picture.

Taylor on a children's swing

The back of the bench only came up to about halfway between my knee and my waist. So I was going to rest the front of my thighs across the back of the bench and then fall forward in position. If Christian could snap the picture at the right moment, it would look like I was balancing on that bench in an impossible way. However, as I got into position to try this and was telling Christian where I wanted him to stand and what I wanted him to do, the bench shifted. I realized that it was just sitting on the ground and was not secured. I quickly reconsidered my idea. I approached Christian to further explain what I had in mind and we were discussing where we may be able to pull off this shot. However, I had not really explained to everyone why I had walked away from that bench.

The results of non-professional planking

While I was talking to Christian, Taylor approached the bench, not knowing why I had decided not to try it. She put her waist across the back of the bench to do what she had done successfully several times already at other locations. As soon as her feet came off the ground, the bench tipped backward, causing her to fall forward. The quick motion prevented her from being able to catch herself and as her face quickly met with the wood of the bench, her legs were going over her head. She flipped over the bench and landed in a heap on the lawn. At this point I turned around to see what my kids were gawking at. Taylor was fine, but her face did not look like it. Once we got her cleaned up, I reluctantly drove her home to explain to her parents how I had broken their daughter's face.

Despite the blood, we did have a good time that afternoon and I now have a valid opinion about planking. I say that my opinion is now valid because I have participated. Is planking stupid? Yes, it is. However, one of my favorite movies is Airplane and it is pretty stupid as well. There is nothing wrong about planking. It can be fun, it is cheap, and despite our little mishap, it is (usually) safe.

To the people who look at pictures of planking on the Internet and decide it is stupid and pointless, I understand. However, you need to understand this. Planking is not really for the people who are looking at the pictures. It is for the participants. We had a blast. It was so much fun. What is the difference between spending an afternoon playing catch, talking a walk through the park, or going planking? It was fun. Who cares that it is just a passing fad? If you have ever bought a pet rock, expected to be entertained by a Slinky, owned an insanely overpriced Cabbage Patch Doll, collected Beanie Babies or worn a Swatch, then you really can't say anything against planking.

Broken Promises

2011-09-02T17:23:00.007-05:00

I like to have my blogs posted in the morning, but this one is going up very late. It is also not the post I intended to make. In my post on Monday, I requested suggestions from my readers on topics to write about in future posts. You can look at the original post and comments left here. This idea was born as I was writing the post and was not what I had in mind when I started typing that morning. That is what I get for sitting down to write without knowing where I was going with my words. As a result of that post and the suggestions I was given, I had intended to address the first topic I was given. However, life does not always play out the way we intend it to.

I took my daughter to school this morning and was coming home to take a quick shower so I could then concentrate on writing about 'planking', as suggested by Kalen Soger in Mondays post. As I was dropping my daughter off, Kyle (my brother) called me to ask why I wasn't home. Since he is self-employed and his children are home schooled, he forgets about how the rest of us are still slaves to that infernal clock. I told him I would be back home in a few minutes if he wanted to wait for me. He did wait and was sitting in a lawn chair in my front yard when I pulled in the driveway. I sat in another chair and we just talked and enjoyed each others' company. We talked about ministry, our jobs, my new neighbors, our kids, travel and a variety of other topics. After a while, Kyle mentioned that he needed to head home, so I get up and check the time on my phone. It was 3:15. We had sat outside for seven hours. I even still had my keys, I had never gone in the house. I then realized that it was supposed to be 102 degrees today. If it did get that hot, we never noticed.

Because of this, I did not get the blog written that I had intended to write. I do not regret this. I enjoy my time with my brother and will not let this blog get in the way of my life, but I did set a personal goal to blog every Monday and Friday. To write the blog I meant to write today will take a little bit of time, so it is not getting written today. It will be posted on Monday. The only reason I am making this entry is to keep the promise I made to myself and my readers.

Here are the topic suggestions I will be tackling in the next few weeks.

Kalen Soger wanted to hear my take on the recent fad of PLANKING. I will cover this on Monday and explain the adventure we had while attempting this new phenomenon. DONE (9-3-11)
Shane Morgan asked what I would choose to be my last meal on earth and how would I make my decision. I haven't figured out yet, why I am in a situation that I have to make this choice, but the question definitely promotes some thought.
Adam Elliott challenged me to write about the difference in the TV ratings system over the decades and the evolution of what is considered acceptable for television. There has definitely been a change over the years.
Jessica Patch had more of an adventure based week in mind. She suggested doing something I had never done before every day for a week and blogging about each experience. It will make for an interesting week.
Ian Cates gave me one word, but it was a wonderful word: BACON. DONE (12-16-2011)
Tammy Soule wants a study on how Facebook has changed the way we relate to each other. Is it good or bad to be so 'in touch'? Good question, Tammy.
My new friend from Colorado, Brandi Boddie, wants to hear more about what lead me to pursue a career in teaching. It is self-reflection time.
Kyle Minor, my brother, wants to know who would win in a fight between Mr. Rogers and Pee Wee Herman. I have been thinking this one over and it is going to require some research. DONE (12-1-11)
Mary Stark challenged me to write a story. I have not done this on this blog yet, so it will be a change in genre for that post. She asked me to go to a cemetery, pick the plot of someone I do not know and 'weave a tale' about that person.
Stephanie Maines wants to hear about the places I want to travel to and why. I think I could write on that topic forever.
Jayson Ferguson is not included on the comment section because Blogger was giving him some trouble, but he sent his suggestion in via Facebook. Jayson and I went to Lincoln Christian University together about 10 years ago, and we got into more than our share of trouble while we were there. He would like me to write about some of those adventures. Jayson, it looks like some of our hijinks are about about to come to light. Now that I have my degree, what can they do?

You can see all the original comments (with the exception of Jayson's) by clicking here and scrolling down to the comment section directly under the blog entry. I will address each one of these over the course of the next few weeks. I may write about other things in the mean time. For instance, I intend to give my recollection of 9/11 next week and I am turning 40 on September 19. I have to write about that. Thank you to all of you who participated and be watching for me to cover your topic.

What Am I Supposed To Write?

2011-08-29T11:36:00.003-05:00

Well, it is Monday once again, although I do not look at Mondays the same way most other people do. The hours at my job are all over the place. I do not have regular days off and could work any shift (including midnights) on any given day. Therefore, I do not really have weekends. Monday, especially recently, means something else for me. It is time for another blog entry.

When I first started this blog, I really had no writing schedule in mind. I certainly had not put any thought into how often I wanted to put up a post. However, once I started writing, I would occasionally be disturbed by the fact that I had not posted anything new in almost a month. I write because I like to write. I do not do it for anyone else, but on the other hand, I love the fact that other people do read my writing. Is this an ego thing? I really have no idea, but after every post I am checking the numbers for the next couple of days to see how many readers it gets. Every time I hit the refresh page on the stats page to see if anyone new has ventured their way to my page since the last time I checked (five minutes ago), I am forced to consider if I may have a problem. After careful consideration, I chalk it up to a lack of caffeine and make another pot of coffee.

In a recent blog (which can be read here), I mentioned that I was setting a new goal for myself concerning this blog. I wrote that I would try to post at least once per week. I have since decided that I will do two posts a week. I will post every Monday and Friday. This serves a few different purposes. The first is to feed my ever-hungry ego. Well, sort of. Everything I read about blogs states that a successful blogger needs to post on a regular basis. If you look through my blog schedule since I started, sometimes I would post three days in a row, and at other times I would only put up one post in a month. It is rather difficult to expect regular followers if they never know when to expect something from me.

One of the reasons this would happen was because I was not writing until I had something I wanted to say or I had an idea for a blog because of a recent experience. I have since realized I cannot legitimately use that as an excuse. If you know me personally, then you are very aware of the fact that I do not actually need to have anything to say in order to start talking. In fact, I can talk at length about any topic despite the fact that I have no real knowledge on the subject. It's a gift. I don't know how I do it.

The second reason for posting twice a week is to challenge myself as a writer. I not only have to produce twice a week, but I will have to plan ahead for it. I should not sit down at the computer at posting time and try to come up with something to say. I need to be planning my blogs in advance, spending time with them and, in some cases, do a little research. Without some planning ahead of time, I will be forced to just crank something out to get it done. In case you haven't noticed, this is what happened today.

I took a creative writing class at a community college right out of high school. There were many different types of assignments, but the most challenging one involved what the teacher called our 'writing journal.' This class met three times per week and we were to make an entry in our writing journal for each time we had class. This meant that on top of our other assignments for the class, we had to produce something creative three times per week. There were no guidelines for this assignment. We could write a short story, a poem, a recent observation about something, or anything else we chose to put to paper.

This class met at 10 a.m. and was my first class of the day. Week after week I would drive to school an hour early to sit in the student lounge and write in my journal right before walking into class. This means that it was a rare occasion when anything in this journal was ever planned out. One of the best entries I put in that journal was entitled Occupation: Procrastination. I openly admitted in that entry that class started in less than half an hour and I was just now sitting down to do the assignment. In that assignment, I attempted to explore why I do this. I presented many theories, but did nothing to correct the situation.

So, here I am, more than twenty years later, doing it again. I have known all weekend that I would be writing for my blog this morning, but did nothing about it. That is why I am sitting here writing about the fact that I do not know what I am supposed to be writing about.

Some days, it comes easy. I have an idea and it just flows out. On other days, I have an idea, but the end product has nothing to do with the original thought that prompted the post. Then, there are the days like today. I am sitting here with nothing and the more I try to think of something, the more my mind just wanders away from me...or shuts down...or I fall asleep. That reminds me - I'm almost out of coffee.

As much as I enjoy the writing process, it is not always easy. The days when my mind is fighting through a kitchen of sludge are very frustrating. Note: 'kitchen of sludge' is in no way an implication of the state of my kitchen, it is just the mental image I have in my head concerning my writing process today. I also picture the fighter as a rather large mouse in a gladiator uniform. I don't know why. I have even gone as far as to make a list of blog ideas for future postings. I have, what I believe, to be a rather long list of good ideas. Unfortunately, just putting up my idea is not a good post. I still need to flesh it out and turn it into something worth reading.

So, I am giving myself a challenge, but I need the help of you, the reader. I want you to give me something to write about. It can be anything and I will write about it. I do ask a couple of things. First, let's keep it clean. Do not give me any inappropriate topics and the person who makes that distinction will be me. Second, in order to participate, you must post your suggestion in the comment section of this blog. Do not comment on Facebook, Twitter, Viewshound, Networkedblogs or any other service that you use to get here. This blog has a comment section, please use it. Plus, unless you leave your suggestion here, other people will not be able to see it. Third, please understand that there is a distinct possibility that your suggestion may not be treated with a serious tone. I am looking to challenge myself and may run with your topic to make a serious point or may use it as a springboard for a joke.

Depending on the number of suggestions I get, it may take a while to get through them. I am also not promising that I will not write about anything else in the meantime. However, when I do write on your suggestion, I will be sure to credit you with the idea and provide a link back to your comment.

I do not know how I got here. This challenge was not in my head when I first started writing, but now that we are here, let's see where this goes. I look forward to your suggestions. Let's have some fun with this. I know my brother, Kyle,will try to think the most off-the-wall thing possible to stump me. I welcome the challenge.

Is This Still In Style?

2011-08-25T19:27:00.002-05:00

I have spent the last several months compiling the mountains of paperwork needed to get accepted into the Greenville College Master’s in Teaching program. I have sent in college transcripts, visited the campus, filled out piles of forms, had background checks done, been fingerprinted and paid a lot of money to take the state skills test. While doing all this, I was also going through the tedious process of becoming certified to be a substitute teacher. Which means I filled out piles of paperwork, sent in my college transcript, had background checks done, got fingerprinted, and paid a lot of money to file each piece of paperwork. Almost every task I had to do for the college, I also had to do for my substitute certification. However, no task was transferable to the other. I had to do everything twice and I had to PAY for everything twice. Someone has made a lot of money. However, it is finally behind me. I started my classes this week and I am now certified as a substitute teacher. In fact, my first assignment is in my old high school tomorrow morning.

I have mixed feelings about this. I am very excited to report to my first assignment tomorrow, but have apprehensions as well. Although I am an adult (and have been one for several years now), I still feel like a kid when I come into the presence of an old authority figure. I am worried that my forty year old mind will revert back to being fifteen years old if I run into Mr. Frakes in the hallway. Honestly, I don’t even know if he would remember me. I never talked much in his classes. Come to think of it, I wasn’t usually even awake in his classes. Today, I love history and understand the important place it has in our education. Twenty years ago, I couldn’t think of a more boring subject. It would probably be better if he didn’t remember me, than for his mind to recall how much of his class I snored through.

I told my daughter that I was a little nervous about going back to my old school and she asked me a question I still don’t have an answer to.

“What are you going to wear?”

I hadn’t considered this. It was probably the furthest thing from my mind. I had no idea what I was going to wear. I still don’t even after thinking about it. Anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that fashion is nowhere near the top of my list of priorities. However, I have been told my many people that I probably need to move it a little higher.

I can’t help it. I have never really cared that much about what I looked like. Other than going out with a girl for the first time and the occasional wedding or big event, I never even think about it. Of course, you can probably tell that when you look at me. I don’t do anything fancy with my hair, I don’t buy expensive clothes, I don’t wear any jewelry, and I can get ready in the morning in less than 15 minutes. I don’t look like a slob, but I don’t really dress up either.

I have to admit that I do look and dress better than I did at the beginning of my life. When I was very young, I dressed the way I did because that is how my mother dressed me. No one can be blamed or credited during that period, but when I got a little older and started trying to find my style, I preferred the slovenly look.

I, like many teens, liked the ripped jeans. Today, most youth can buy them that way, but in the eighties, we usually had to rip them up ourselves, which does not settle well with parents who just spent hard-earned money to clothe their children. Right after high school, I developed a liking for flannel shirts. This was not really a fashion statement, but a lifestyle choice. Flannel was easy. I never had to look at which one I was putting on. It goes with just about anything. I could just randomly pull one out of the closet and run out the door.

Unfortunately, I had one flannel I really took a liking to. I used it like a jacket and wore it over whatever I had on that day, so I had it on often. It was long-sleeved, yellow and had black stripes. I loved that shirt. My friends gave me so much grief over it, I had to wear it more just to irritate them. I must have worn it for a long time because years later my wife tried to destroy it. If I had not been the one burning the trash that day, it would have been lost. After that, I had to hide it to keep it safe and only wear it on special occasions.

Today, I own several pairs of black denim jeans and lots of t-shirts. I do have several nice pull-over shirts with collars and I even own about a half-dozen suits for when I have to preach, but I try not to wear them even then. So, I guess my wardrobe is limited.

Limited wardrobe or not, I do need to look presentable tomorrow. I definitely need to go through my clothes and decide tonight, rather than just throwing something on in the morning. I might even wear slacks instead of my black denim. I should call my mother to find out what color slacks would go best with yellow flannel. I don’t want to clash.

My Experiment with Steroids

2011-08-22T14:57:00.010-05:00

I have had a rough couple of days. I spent the night in the emergency room on Saturday night and have gotten very little sleep since then. I had a similar experience four months ago and wrote about it in my blog here. However, this time it was different and I did not realize it until I looked back at that blog I wrote in April. In April, I had horrible pain in my right shoulder, but this time it was in my left shoulder, so it is from something different.

Thursday night I felt some discomfort in my left shoulder. It wasn't too bad, but it was noticeable. When I woke up Friday morning, it had intensified and didn't let up all day. By Saturday, it had significantly grown worse. I felt awful pain anytime I moved it and usually had to lift it with my right hand to even put it up on a table when I sat down. I am sure it looked humorous to see me do anything. I never realized how difficult it was to do simple things like put on socks with one hand. Putting on a shirt was torture. Using only one hand wasn't the struggle; it was the pain involved with trying not to move my bad arm. The slightest movement sent sharp pains through my shoulder. I shed a lot of tears that day.

That night I went to a local trivia night fund raiser, so I was around people who saw me struggling and encouraged me to go to the hospital. My buddy, Adam, was especially forceful. He told me all night that I needed to go get it taken care of. However, since I had dealt with this before, I did not think it would be necessary. Yes, it was painful, but it would be gone in a few days. I just needed to ride it out like last time. About five hours later, I changed my mind.

I went to bed that night and took some Aleve to ease the pain. It didn't work. I could not find any comfortable position. The pain grew much worse over the next couple of hours. I couldn't adjust my blankets or even change positions without searing pain shooting through my arm. I came to the realization that sleep was not going to happen and this was obviously much worse than what I had experienced back in April. I got up and tackled the task of dressing myself again so I could go to the hospital.

I got to the E.R. about 2 a.m. and they laid me on a bed to await the doctor. The movement involved in getting myself there has made the pain much worse, so the doctor was going to get to see me at my worst. After all the preliminary questions, blood pressure checks, pulse taking, and explanations of my issue, the doctor came into the room. He introduced himself as Dr. Doolittle and I immediately laughed. The first instance of laughter caused my shoulder to throb, so I think I was able to pass it off as a wince of pain.

Doolittle (that really is his name) asked me where my shoulder hurt. As he started feeling around on it, I told him that it hurt when I moved it and it didn't really hurt to the touch. He immediately proved me wrong. He then attempted to move my arm to see what level of mobility I had. Once I relaxed and let him try, he found that it doesn't move at all without cries from me. He decided that it appeared to be bursitis.

He ordered some X-rays to be assured there was not a more serious problem. Before the X-rays, one of the nurses came in to give me a shot of anti-inflammatory medication. As I started rolling up my sleeve, she told me that she would be injecting a large amount of fluid so it would have to go in a 'meatier' area. "Drop your pants." She told me it would burn, but I am not really scared of needles, so I wasn't too worried about it.

There was so much medicine being injected that it took a while to get it all through the syringe. About 20 seconds into the injection, my butt suddenly felt like it had caught on fire. She wasn't kidding. It burned...a lot. I tried to sit still and not tense so she could finish, but it was difficult. Luckily, it subsided after a couple of minutes. It burned for the next several hours, but the intense burn was only for those first few minutes. In the meantime, I was able to get the nurse to admit I had a hot butt.

Then, it was off to radiology for my X-rays. They brought a wheelchair in for me. I don't know if I could ever get used to being pushed around in a wheelchair. It feels so strange to have someone else push me around, especially when I know I am perfectly capable of walking. However, I was glad to have it when we came back from there.

That's not going to happen!

The X-rays were not fun. In order for them to get the shots they needed, I had to position my arm where they could better see the joint. For the first one my arm basically had to hang by my side, which wasn't too bad except I had to hold it out a couple inches from my waist. Now, I can do this if I can use my right arm to support the left one, but to use the left arm muscles to hold it there was excruciating. She would get it in position and ask if that was alright. Through tears I exclaimed, "No, but take the picture quick!" She was as gentle as she could be, but it really hurt. For the next shot I needed to rotate my arm to be palm forward instead of back. This small movement surprised me in how difficult it was to do, but we got the shot. She then came out of her little anti-radiation room and informed me that I am not going to like her. She says, "For this shot I need your arm like this." She then holds up her arm like she is going to make a right turn. I knew this was not possible, since I had not raised my arm from my side for two days, but decided to give it a try. I held my left wrist with my right hand and tried to raise it. I hadn't moved it six inches when she realized that I couldn't do it. She then decided that if I could place my left hand on my right shoulder, that may expose the joint to get the shot we needed. That was much easier to do.

Back in the wheelchair, I nursed my shoulder that was now exponentially sorer than before I got there and I wondered when the anti-inflammatory medicine was supposed to kick in. The next nurse asked me if my arm was starting to loosen up yet. I told her it was worse from all the movement. Dr. Doolittle (HAHA!!) then came back in and told me that the X-rays looked fine, so he was confident that his initial diagnosis was correct. It was probably bursitis. Bursitis is inflammation of the fluid-filled sac (bursa) that lies between a tendon and skin, or between a tendon and bone. He then explained that once this gets inflamed all movement becomes extremely painful. He really didn't need to tell me that part. I was very much aware of it.

Notice the one buff arm

He then produced another syringe. "This is a Lanacane steroid," he said, "that is going to go directly into the joint to add fluid to the bursa sac." The main thing I heard was steroid. All I really knew about steroids is that they are often used by body builders to help them bulk up. I immediately thought of Freddy Rodriguez in the movie Lady in the Water. He was doing an experiment by building up one arm but not the other with weight training. If I got this shot in just one arm would I look like him? I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Either way, I was wondering what this shot would be like. This was not a surface injection like every other shot I had ever received. This was going deep into my joint. I didn't expect this to be pleasant. I rolled up my sleeve and braced myself.

He put the needle in and had to adjust it a bit to get it into the bursa sac, but it soon found its way. It was not nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. He then stated that it may start to burn, but I would need to sit still because it takes a while to get it all in there. I never really felt any burning, but my whole body got hot. When I said that, Doolittle (HAHA!!) said, "He's passing out! Lay him down!" I told them I wasn't passing out, I just got really hot. The nurses told me I had lost all color in my face and my skin got clammy. These are all signs that someone is about to pass out, but it didn't happen.

An hour later, I was headed back home with my arm hurting more than when I had gone in, but I had some pain killers and prescriptions for codeine and more anti-inflammatory medication. I had to call in sick that morning since we cannot dispatch at the Sheriff's Department while on medication. I have instructions to contact an orthopedic doctor tomorrow so it can be looked at more closely to see if there is anything more serious.

I am starting to regain some mobility in my arm today, but I am very limited. I still cannot lift anything without pain, but it has gotten much easier to get dressed. However, since I cannot afford to take off any more days of work, I have gone without the painkillers today, so I can work this afternoon. I may have to stop taking them anyway. They warned me at the hospital that codeine knocks people out, so do not drive after taking it. However, it has the opposite effect on me. It does help with the pain, but has the same effect as caffeine. I am wide awake after taking it. I can't sleep at night when I've had a dose.

I am healing and am glad to be moving around again, but I am really starting to believe that my body is out to get me. Getting old seems to have a downside.

To Everything There Is A Season

2011-08-18T11:45:00.002-05:00

It is amazing how much things change over time. The people that we are, our priorities, the things we like or don't like and even the people we spend time with all change as time moves forward. There have been many people over the course of the years that I thought would be life long friends, but as time went on and our lives, jobs and family situations changed, we lost touch somehow.

Last year, I had lunch with an old girlfriend because I was passing through her town and thought it would be fun to catch up. I was really looking forward to swapping pictures of kids, catching up on who was doing what in each of our families and reminisce about some of the old days. However, the day did not happen the way I pictured it.

When we first saw each other it was great. We both smiled, gave each other a hug and sat down to talk. After about 5 minutes of seeing pictures of kids and catching each other up on what our siblings and parents were up to the conversation became forced. It became obvious very quickly that our lives had taken radically different paths and we just didn't know what to talk about. We did our best for the next hour, but we were both struggling to keep the conversation moving forward so we could finish our lunch and go our separate ways. This was the same girl that I used to talk on the phone with for hours. Now, I could barely get through a lunch. Plus, these days I don't want to talk on the phone with anyone. I hate talking on the phone. Things change.

Like many young people, I used to live for the weekend. I did much of the stereotypical early 20-something stuff. I knew the secret to a good life. Life was great and carefree and would forever be that way as long as I had that fantastic group of friends to keep having fun with. These were my best friends in the world and we had out lives together planned out. Ten years later, I couldn't tell you where most of them were.

These are not bad things. Looking back over what I just typed, I realized this looks kind of depressing, but it is not. Those events were just different seasons in my life. While I may miss some aspects of hanging out with a bunch of friends every weekend, I certainly do not miss the hangovers and dragging myself to work after staying out all night again.

Before those years all I ever did was watch television. I had the entire network schedule memorized. I spent my Friday evenings with the Duke boys and every Tuesday I hung out with Murdoch and B.A. Baracus. Thursdays were reserved for the Huxtable family and on various other nights I laughed with the Severs, Keatons and Gordon Shumway. I loved TV and would have never imagined life without it. However, later, I could go days (sometimes over a week) without seeing a single TV show because I was out with my friends. In fact, I had a few years when I didn't even own a TV. A while later, I concentrated more on my schooling. Eventually, I was married and had children. Then, my focus changed again. Having a child will do that to you.

Each one of these changes brought about other changes in the way I thought, acted and spent my time. My priorities and sometimes even my values changed as my life began to be concentrated in other areas. Add to all this the fact that I gave my life to Christ in the midst of these other changes and my thoughts and priorities really began to change.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 says:
¹ There is a time for everything,
   and a season for every activity under the heavens:
² a time to be born and a time to die,
   a time to plant and a time to uproot,
³ a time to kill and a time to heal,
   a time to tear down and a time to build,
⁴ a time to weep and a time to laugh,
   a time to mourn and a time to dance,
⁵ a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
   a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
⁶ a time to search and a time to give up,
   a time to keep and a time to throw away,
⁷ a time to tear and a time to mend,
   a time to be silent and a time to speak,
⁸ a time to love and a time to hate,
   a time for war and a time for peace.

This is just life. New opportunities come and go. Wonderful people come into our lives as well as people we don't want to see. Disasters happen and then we heal. We go through many stages over the course of our lives, but a couple of things remain the same. We are always there choosing our next path and God is right there beside us for strength and guidance.

One year ago, I was content with the job I had and was concentrating on making sure my daughter had what she needed to finish high school. A few months later I lost that job and ended up going back to college to finish my Bachelor's degree and now I am enrolled in graduate school to get my Master's in Education. It is amazing how quickly life can change. Now I am focused on both my daughter's education and mine. Once I get my degree, who knows where that will take me.

I have a plan for the next twenty years, but my plans have never stayed on track for very long. I honestly don't know where my life is going to be in the next five years. I don't know where I will be working or even where I will live. Life changes all the time. Sometimes we decide to make a change and sometimes it is forced upon us. Fortunately, Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever (Hebrews 13:8).

It really doesn't matter where life takes me.

(On a side note: score yourself 10 points if you can tell me who Gordon Shumway is in the comment section. Try not to use Google.)

Live Life to the Fullest

2011-08-15T07:00:00.039-05:00

I love a good adventure.

Adventure is exciting. Adventure is fun. Adventure keeps the blood pumping. A life of adventure is great. Unfortunately, I don’t have one.

I do not have a bad life. I certainly don’t want to give the impression that I am complaining about my life being mundane. I have done many exciting things, but these days they are few and far between and most of them are just stories from when I was younger. In fact, most people’s adventure stories stem from their younger days. Why is that?

Before we get tied up in our lives with our careers and families, we have more energy and time and less responsibilities. Adventure and good times just happen to us with very little effort, but it begins to change as we get older and more serious about our lives and goals. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but does lead many to become unsatisfied.

John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens while you are making other plans.” In general, I have to agree with this statement. I, like many people, love a good adventure, but do not purposefully seek them out on most occasions. As I talk about the things I would like to do, I continue to age and miss another day that could have created another great memory.

This happens very easily. Most people work through the week and look forward to the weekend. It is then spent relaxing by watching movies, going shopping, reading a book, or some other uneventful activity. While this may be relaxing, it is on rare occasions that memories are being created or adventures are being lived out.

I know that these are generalities and do not apply to everyone, but I can relate. I look forward to having a day off so I can "do nothing." Then I wonder why I never got around to doing some of the things I have always wanted to do.

Before I go to the grocery store I make a list of the things I need. Otherwise, I forget half the things I went to buy. Sometimes I make a list of tasks that must be done for the day or the week. I always make lists for school to guarantee I don’t miss any assignments. So, why not make a list of the things I would like to do to help ensure more of them get accomplished? Having it down on paper and displaying the list where I can see it would not only remind me of my goals but be a constant motivation to pursue them. Therefore, a few days ago, I began compiling a list of things I have wanted to do for a long time.

As I was making my list, I realized that this is what many have called a “bucket” list. In other words, it is a list of things to accomplish before kicking the bucket. This was not what I had in mind when I started it, but serves a similar purpose.

I constructed some rules for myself concerning this index of future endeavors. The list will evolve with time and I can add something to it any time that I like. However, I may never remove anything from the list. I figure anything I put in the inventory was put there for a reason, so it may not be removed. There is no time limit for any list item, but I must always be accomplishing things on the list if I ever hope to get through it. I realize that I may never complete every task, but I will have many stories to tell about trying.

I did not restrict myself while compiling my list. I never considered the cost involved or energy required to complete any task. Some of my cataloged tasks will require travel, others will require great courage, and still others will just be something fun to do. Some will take planning, some will require lengthy discipline, and others can be done spontaneously in an instant. As you look through my checklist please keep in mind that I made this for me. Some of the items may not seem like fun or adventurous to you, but it is not your task. It is mine. On the other hand, you may want to join me on some of these adventures. I am open to suggestions for more challenges to add and will also welcome joining someone else to mark items off. If you see something you want to do, contact me and maybe we can mark it off together.

I will chronicle each accomplishment on this blog, but the list will not become the focus of my blog. I will continue to write on my usual random topics and will only return to the list when another item has been knocked out. I plan to record each event with photographic and/or video evidence to be shared here.

Here is my list in no particular order. Click the links are to see examples or definitions:

Get skydive certified (possibly attend SKYDICE SPACELAND)
Ride in a hot air balloon
Walk a 100+ mile trip
Learn to play guitar
Write and publish a book
Get a photo published in a national magazine
Dye my hair a crazy color
Fly a plane
Fix my teeth
Swim with sharks
Wrestle an alligator
Go snowboarding
Be suspension pierced
Go scuba diving
Participate in an eating challenge
Get tased
See the aurora borealis
Eat fugu
Eat a durian
Crash a wedding
Go to Comic-Con
Roll a car
Backflip a motorcycle
Be an extra in a movie
Go noodling
Do the polar plunge
Learn how to pick a lock
Pet a wild skunk
Stage dive and crowd surf
Break a world record
Attend a Rocky Horror Picture Show in full costume
Bungee Jump
Take a cruise
Be part of a flash mob (not a criminal one) COMPLETED 10-22-11 read here
Ride a Segway
Go to Mardi Gras
See a whale
Go surfing
Be on a game show
Take a photography class
Go ice fishing
Drive on the Autobahn
Get in a fist fight
Kiss a stranger
Cliff dive
Go jet skiing
Be in a play
Attend Cornerstone Festival
Go kayaking
Witness a meteor shower
Own a Jeep again
Pay for a strangers meal or groceries
Fly first class
Drive the length of Route 66
Go wing-walking
Have my portrait painted
Be in the audience for taping of TV show
Shave my head
Serve on jury duty
Learn to play harmonica
Attend Oktoberfest
Spend night alone in a haunted house
Visit Holy Land
Run with the bulls in Pamplona
Learn to ride a unicycle
Go snowmobiling
Get a black belt in any martial art
See the giant Sequoia trees of the West Coast
Fly in a helicoptor over a volcano
Eat lobster in Maine
Make some money as a street musician
Sing karaoke
Ride in a tank
Read my huge list of books - click here for progress
Go to a blues bar in Chicago
Go to a jazz club in New Orleans
Do a fire walk
Ride in a helicoptor
Go on a cross country motorcycle trip
Visit the Louvre
Go Zorbing
Go to the San Diego Zoo
See all 7 continents - click here for progress
Attend a sumo match in Japan
Ride a San Francisco cable car
Attend Day of Dead ceremony in Mexico
Keep bees
Shoot a flamethrower
Meet a U.S. president while he is still in office
Observe the floor of Wall Street during trading time
Visit the Mall of America
Attend a Super Bowl
Spar a professional boxer
Get a professional shave
Attend the Olympics
Deliver a baby
Complete a high ropes course
Visit the Parthenon in Greece
Eat lutefisk in Norway
Eat Philly Cheesesteak in Philadelphia
Experience weightlessness
Kiss the Blarney Stone
Attend a Broadway show
Attend a Las Vegas show
Read every Shakespeare play - click here for progress
See all 50 states - click here for progress
Swim with dolphins
Participate in a demolition derby
Meet a person of royalty - British or otherwise
Grow my hair out long again - I miss my hair
Walk on the Great Wall of China
Visit Auschwitz
Get an Ashiatsu massage
Get something patented
Eat Beluga caviar
Eat Kimchi in Korea
Own a hammock
Climb Statue of Liberty
Wear a tuxedo to a non-tuxedo event
Brand a cow
Save a life
Do a stand-up comedy routine
Regauge my ears - I used to have ‘00’
Throw a live grenade
Get a Master’s degree
Get a Doctorate
Sleep in a castle
Sit in on a funeral preparation or autopsy
Be debt free
See Mt. Rushmore
Mush a dog sled
Have a pet monkey
Go deep sea fishing
Drink a beer at CHEERS in Boston
Learn a second language fluently
See the Pyramids of Giza
Ride a bull
Drive a race car
Be on Times Square for New Year’s Eve
Try every kind of cheese - click here for progress
Climb Seattle Space Needle
Attend the Brazilian Carnival in Rio de Janiero
Get my pilot’s license
Be elected to a public office
Drive a dune buggy in the desert
Swim with manatees
Visit Stonehedge
Attend a bull fight
Attend a cock fight
Attend a Murder Mystery Dinner

Feel free to contact me with suggestions for other adventures or questions about what some of these are or why I would want to do them. My growing list can be seen at this link. I will share with you as they are completed and feel free to join me in marking some off. I'm so excited.

Recapturing What I Love

2011-08-11T20:42:00.005-05:00

I have a problem. I love writing and I love this blog. I started this blog ten months ago not knowing what I was going to do with it. I even stated in my first post that it may take me a while to find my voice. Since then I have written on a variety of topics: getting a good parking space, my disdain for sports, children, cold weather, drive thrus, and Russian literature, experiences raising my children, a minute-by-minute report of the blizzard that almost killed us, and the origin of rainbows.

I have shamelessly promoted myself on Facebook, Twitter, Viewshound, Triond, and many other sites to get more readers. I have subscribed to the sites of other bloggers so that I can expand my web presence by commenting on their blogs in the hope that they will come to visit mine and maybe bring some of their readers with them.

I have enjoyed looking at my stats page to see how many people have read something that I have written. I have reveled in the knowledge that I have readers in Slovenia, Croatia, Germany, South Africa, Latvia, Philippines, Iran and 53 other countries. I have uploaded some of my posts to other websites, won a few awards, and have even been paid for some of the things I wrote.

As great as this may sound, here is my problem: I am not enjoying it. When I first started this blog, I just wrote. I wrote my little stories and it was fun. Most of them were humorous. I love being the funny guy. However, it doesn’t always come easy. It takes a while to think these things up, and sometimes it takes even longer to figure out how to tell the story. Occasionally, I would write a serious piece. Three of my Top 10 posts (one about Kirsten, one about Christian, and one about parenting in general) have been about my relationship with my kids.

The serious pieces are much easier to write because I just have to tell the story. The funny ones are challenging, but definitely more fun to write. Many times I will have some mundane experience and decide that it would make a decent topic for a blog, but I spend several days figuring out how to tell the story in a clever way before it makes it to the computer.

I really enjoy the writing process and plan to continue to write, but I am going to make some changes. I have put so much time and effort into promotion of my writing, that it has become a chore I do not look forward to every morning. I subscribed to about 20 other bloggers with a large readership to get more exposure. However, reading all these blogs every day so I can leave comments was taking too much time. Plus, as my audience began to grow, I felt more pressure to produce something of high quality. Rather than sitting down and doing what I love, I fretted over quality and spent time trying to promote. In the meantime, my writing has slowed down and I find myself stalling to write another one.

It has been one month since my last post and I do not ever want that to happen again. I have been really busy this past month with camp and school registration, but my readers would know that if I had been writing and telling my story.

I want to pledge right now that I am putting my concentration back on my writing and not on promotion. I understand that this may cause my audience to shrink, but I started doing this because I love writing and that is what I intend to do. I am setting a goal of at least one post per week from this point forward.

Thank you to all my readers. I love getting your feedback and comments. I hope to keep seeing you.

The Pepsi Challenge to Get It Right

2011-07-12T11:29:00.004-05:00

I have been doing something new to save money lately. It’s actually quite simple. I stopped going out to eat. I started seeing the difference in my wallet almost immediately. Before, when I received my paycheck, I would pay my bills for that pay period, throw some in the savings account, and then the rest slowly got chipped away buying gas and Big Macs. I began to realize how much of my money was being siphoned out by my frequent trips to restaurants and made the decision to stop. The only time my daughter and I have eaten out in the last six weeks has been when we are traveling.

On a recent trip out of town, we made a stop at Burger King for breakfast since we were on the road and did not have the option of running home to eat. I made my order of hash rounds, a breakfast sandwich, and small drink and was then thrown off guard by the worker asking me what kind of drink. The question confused me for a moment. I realize it was a very simple question, but it had been a few years since that question was a part of the ordering routine. Fast food restaurants just give you the cup now so you can go fill the drink for yourself. Rarely, do they fill it for you anymore.

After feeling foolish for being thrown by the question, I ordered a Pepsi. We got our tray and sat down to relax before getting back on the road. I started on my croissan'wich (I always get the sausage) and took a big gulp of my soda. I almost spit it back out. Something was wrong with it. I couldn’t place it, but it didn’t taste right. Kirsten always orders water, so I asked her to taste it. She said something was off as well. So, I took it back to the counter.

I told the girl something was wrong with my Pepsi, so she made another one. I tried it as soon as she handed it to me, but it still had the same problem. She yelled back to the manager, “Dan, there is something wrong with our Coke machine.” That’s when I realized the problem. I quickly stopped her so she would not get the manger since there was nothing wrong with the soda.

I explained to her the problem was that I had ordered a Pepsi and she gave me a Coke. She defended herself, saying, “We don’t have Pepsi here. We have Coke.” I told her that I understood and apologized for not looking to see what they had before I ordered, but advised her that in the future, to prevent confusion, if someone orders something that is not on the menu, she should tell them and not just substitute something else. She huffed and told me, “Pepsi and Coke are the same thing!” I tried to get her to understand that if they were the same thing, then I would not have been able to tell the difference when I took a drink, however, I think most of her brain power was being used on chewing her gum.

Who drinks this?

Whether a restaurant has Coke products or Pepsi products is determined by a number of factors, but they are not interchangeable. I, personally, am a Mt. Dew fiend and I know many people who are, but I don’t see people running around drinking Mello Yello, which is Coke’s counterpart, because they aren’t even remotely the same. I like Pepsi better than Coke and I highly prefer Mt. Dew to Mellow Yello. However, the Coca-Cola brand wins out on the Dr. Pepper/Mr. Pibb comparison. I like both, but Mr. Pibb is a little better. I will drink a Sprite rather than a 7-UP, but would prefer to not have to drink either.

When I order a Pepsi, I am not asking for whatever cola drink may be behind the counter. I am asking for a Pepsi. I have had many servers say, “We don’t have Pepsi. Is Coke okay?” I love that question. It means the worker has enough respect for the customer to give them the option. If the establishment doesn’t have that brand, just let me know and I will be happy to choose something else, but do not give me something I didn’t order.

Most of the time, I remember this when I go into a restaurant and I ask if they have Coke or Pepsi, but sometimes I forget. A good employee will make the distinction. Unfortunately, this does not just happen with sodas. A few years ago, I ordered a Frisco breakfast sandwich at Hardee’s. The Frisco is ham with egg and cheese on grilled sourdough. The grilled sourdough is what sets this meal apart from the others. Upon arriving at my table and opening the wrapper, I noticed that the bread did not have the usual golden brown color. It was white.

Notice the beautiful color

I took it back to the counter where the manager explained to me that the grill was broken, so they had been toasting the bread instead of grilling it. I was amazed that the manager could not understand why I wanted my money back. This was not what I had ordered. There is a difference. The menu even has a picture of the sandwich, which states ‘grilled sourdough.” A grilled cheese sandwich is much better then toasting some bread and then putting cheese on it. I understand things happen. The grill was broken and they were trying to get it fixed, but they knew that when I ordered my sandwich. How hard would it have been to mention, “Oh, just so you know, our grill is broken. We can't grill the sourdough right now. Would it be alright if it was toasted?” Then I could decide and there would be no problems, but don’t take my money and then switch my order to something you hope will be acceptable.

These substitutions are even harder to forgive in nicer restaurants where they should know the difference between ‘butter OR margarine’, ‘mayonnaise OR salad dressing (Miracle Whip)’, and ‘sweet tea OR unsweetened tea that you can put sugar in yourself.’ They are not the same.

I decided to stop eating out for purely financial reasons, but it does my blood pressure good to not have to put up with these preventable mishaps every time I walk into a restaurant. Plus, at home, I get what I want. My sandwiches get grilled when I want grilled, toasted when I want toasted, my eggs are always the way I like them, and no one is throwing a lemon slice in my tea that I didn’t ask for.

It's All About Patience and Determination

2011-07-01T12:01:00.000-05:00

I have had the most amazing week. A few days ago, I was thrilled with the events of the afternoon and then this morning, it happened again. Life does not get much better. Unfortunately, my daughter could not comprehend the gravity or importance of this monumental occurrence, so I have been trying to educate her.

Sunday afternoon, I was pulling into the Wal-Mart parking lot and was immediately reminded of why I need to plan my trips a little more intentionally. We have one of those super Wal-Marts that is bigger than many small towns, and on the weekends and some evenings, the crowds can be quite overwhelming. As I approached the lot and saw the hundreds of cars, I immediately started to reconsider how much we needed the items I came to get. The over-crowded aisles and the long check-out lines would make this a miserable experience, as usual. I need to remember to plan my Wal-Mart excursions for weekdays, but I decided to brave the masses since I was already there. However, first, I had to find a parking space.

Being the middle of summer, I do not want to walk across 300-degree asphalt any further than I have to, so I began the quest for a decent parking spot. I started my usual routine by pulling into the side entrance to drive by the front doors. This is more than just habit, there is a reason for this approach. Coming in from the side gives me a better view of the front spots. I can quickly scan the spots to my left while I dodge the endless stream of shopping carts exiting the store to my right. This foot traffic does pose a serious hazard, but gives me the slow-motion drive-by opportunity needed to find what I am looking for.

If I come in the front entrance and am driving directly toward the front of the store, there are too many parked cars in the way of potential empty spaces located in the acceptable parking zones. Plus, due to this vastly inferior viewing angle, sometimes a space occupied by a sub-compact or a motorcycle is mistaken for being empty, causing me to bypass various parking opportunities while pursuing what gave the illusion of being a better choice. Upon discovering that the spot is not empty and realizing I should have taken the one I passed two spaces back, it is usually too late to back up because of the Jeep behind me who now thinks that is her spot just because I passed it.

Finding the right spot is crucial in determining the initial mood for embarking on a shopping journey. This concept is held even more dear in other parts of the world. When I lived in Puerto Rico, I was amazed to discover that they had valet parking at Wal-Mart. Being what my ex-wife called ’cheap,’ I never took advantage of this service, but I definitely saw the attraction. These Wal-Marts would rope off all the best spots and then charge the customers to use them. If I wanted to park close, I had to pay for it, however, there was a much greater downside than just having to park further away. Being a major metropolitan area, the parking lot could not accommodate the numbers of cars trying to find a space. So, the people who did not take advantage of the valet ‘convenience’ may not be lucky enough to find a spot at all. However, my frugal nature and sense of adventure would step up to the challenge every time. Because of this, we started to participate in a creepy practice I called ‘shopper-stalking.’ I did not invent this practice and it took a while to understand the unwritten cultural rules for how it works, but the concept was pretty simple.

After cruising up and down all the aisles and determining that there are literally no spots available (not even on the furthest reaches of the lot), drivers start to watch for spots that are about to become vacant. One of the best ways to get a spot is to follow a shopper to their car. This is the creepy part. As an exiting shopper walks into one of the parking rows, if you are swift enough to be the first car behind her, you may be able to get her spot when she pulls out. There are some rules that must be obeyed. The pedestrian, upon noticing that she is being ‘stalked,’ walks on the right side of the lane. The ‘stalker’ stays to the right as well. This allows other cars to pass since the first car has already laid claim to her spot. However, that claim has not been made unless the ‘stalker’ has turned on the right turn signal. Once that signal comes on, it communicates to the other drivers that this spot will be yours, despite the fact that you do not yet know where it is located.

Since these parking lots cover vast spaces, it may take several minutes for the shopper to reach their car and I never did grow accustomed to creeping behind a walking person in my car. It felt so sinister. That is why I called it ‘shopper-stalking.’ Plus, if the person you are following passes between the cars to get at her vehicle in another row, you then have a legal right to race to the next row over and run her down. I only had to do this once, but I did not feel good about it. Her spot wasn’t that good anyway.

Now that I am back in Illinois, I do not have to ‘shopper-stalk’ any longer. My local store always has parking available, even on the busiest days, but I may have to walk for it. I am not doing that. I do not know why I cannot park at the back of the lot, but I just can’t do it. My daughter will get upset because I will spend an extra 10 minutes cruising around the lot to get a spot that is three spaces closer than the one I turned down earlier.

I am willing to trek all over town on foot, so this is not about laziness. Maybe it is male ego or the inability to reject the challenge. I don’t know, but I will not exit the vehicle until I have found what my friend Dawn calls ROCK STAR PARKING. Maybe it is an ego thing.

So, it is a crowded Sunday afternoon and I am approaching the store from the side. I carefully maneuver through the throng of exiting shopping carts, motorized wheelchairs, and leashed toddlers while scanning the spaces. I take the first row right after the doors to look for available spots. The first empty spot is about 15 spaces back. Not good enough. I cut through the row of parked cars to now approach the row right in front of the doors. It appears that there are no close spots in this row either so I will have to go another row over to try my luck. However, as I got close to the end of the row, I saw back up lights come on to my right. This person was pulling out of the very front space! The coveted front space! Only handicapped spaces are closer!

I immediately threw it in reverse to give them room, but someone started honking. There was a car right on my bumper. I couldn’t back up. I quickly reassessed the space between my car and the one wanting to pull out and determined that it may be possible to get out if the driver was very careful and pulled in their trunk. I put the car in park to wait and see how this played out. My daughter exclaimed, “Dad, you have to pull up. They don’t have room.” I let her know I was not going to miss this opportunity. How often does this happen? I will never get to park this close again without a wheelchair. She rolled her eyes, got out of the car, and ran inside the store.

Determined to hold my ground, the driver calculated the extra space he had to work with since he was in the front spot and wasn’t pinned in by cars on both sides. As cars were honking at me and an old woman started tapping on my window, he finally figured it out. I proudly pulled my vehicle into the spot and stepped out of the car with my head held high. The cursing and rude gestures coming at me from random vehicles were not going to bring me down. I knew what I had just accomplished. I don’t remember what happened inside the store or how long it took me to locate my daughter, but it doesn’t matter. The best part had already happened.

Today, six days later, I return to Wal-Mart and am reminding Kirsten of the fantastic experience we had last time we were there. As she pretended to ignore me, I noticed that same spot was just open and waiting for me. I pulled into it with no problem and got to relive the moment again.

Teething Toddler Tantrums - Kids Are So Immature

2011-06-27T12:15:00.005-05:00

Summer is slowly ticking away and I look forward to school starting in the fall. In August, I will be starting my Master’s Degree in Teaching. I have no clue what to expect, but am excited to get started. I will also be substitute teaching in the public school system. However, I have some concerns.

When I am finished with my schooling, I will be a high school teacher. I relate better with teenagers than younger kids. I have done youth ministry for many years and almost always work with the high school youth. I occasionally venture into the junior high crowd, but not often. I have a real problem working with younger children.

I was reminded of this two weeks ago when our church had VBS. Due to my work schedule, I could not be there the entire week. I was only available for two days. Because of this, I could not get plugged in early and pick the job I would like to do, which is usually to take pictures of the event. I told Mandy, the coordinator, what nights I would be there and she could stick me wherever help was needed.

On the first night that I was available, Mandy sent me to work with the 2 and 3 year olds. I was not excited about this assignment, but it was where they were short-handed for the night. Luckily, I was just there to help and not actually lead anything. Give me a group of small children and I can keep them entertained for about 30 minutes, but nothing constructive will happen. I have no idea how people can teach a group of small children. It just does not work for me. We spent most of the evening coloring, cleaning up messes, and holding the ones that started crying.

Kids really seem to like me, but I have no idea why. Most of them I am simply tolerating until my time is up. Every now and then, there will be certain children I enjoy, but generally, I am not a fan. I even feel this way about babies.

I know most people just go ga-ga over a baby, but not me. I never have. Every time one of my friends has a baby, eventually they ask, “Would you like to hold him?” I politely decline, and they say, “It’s alright. Here,” and then hand him to me anyway. I know it’s alright. That is why they asked me to begin with. They had already approved the action before they asked. However, since I said no, I had not. Somehow, I always end up with the baby anyway. So, I bounce and sway and look at it until it starts to cry and then hand it back, grateful that we got that part out of the way.

It's OK. Barney scares me too.

I also do not believe that babies are very cute. They usually have splotchy skin, mis-shapen heads, and smell funny. They cry and sleep and poop. I do not see the fascination. As they get a little older and I can play with them, they begin to get a little more interesting, but even then, it has it’s limits. It is empowering to be thought of as the coolest person on earth because I can bounce a ball against the wall and catch it again. I feel so superior when I successfully roll a ball to a toddler but he cannot get it back to me with the same dexterity. However, sooner or later, he will cry for no apparent reason or fill his pants with putrid sludge. Since, I am very careful to never be left alone with small children, when these problems arise, I can easily escape responsibility for fixing it.

Dealing with older kids is a much different story. I have some sort of connection with teenagers I have never been able to understand. I like kids that age and they seem to like me. When I had my own business, it became a hangout for many of the local teens. When I was the pastor at Bakerville, many of the teens in the church would drop by my house, just to ‘hang out.’ I had no problem with that, I just couldn't understand the draw.

My favorite part about teenagers is the fact that you can talk to them. By that, I mean have real conversations. They have been in the world long enough and their intellect has developed to the point that they can make meaningful observations about the world around them. They have opinions and can usually explain them. However, they still need guidance, but do not just want someone to simply tell them what they need to do or think. They can appreciate the discussion and reasons behind why something is done a certain way. I remember being a teenager and thinking I had the world figured out, but I was still seeking answers and there were not a lot of adults who would really talk to me.

At my shop about two years ago, one of my co-workers was commenting to a customer about the number of teens that had started coming to the shop since I started working there. The customer asked me why teens seem to gravitate to me and I told him I had no idea. I really didn’t. I had asked myself that question many times. However, one of those teens was sitting in the room and she blurted out, “I know why.” My ears immediately perked up. I wanted to know this as well. She told us, “It’s simple. You talk to us.” I pointed out that I can't be the only adult that talks to her. She said that other adults simply acknowledge her and a few might try to make small talk, but none of them really seem interested in what she has to say. She said, “You actually talk to me and then listen to me. We have real conversations about important stuff.”

I had to think about this for a long time. The concept is so simple. I screw up a lot of things in my life, but this is one that just comes naturally to me. I pay attention to teenagers because I like them. I enjoy talking to them. I like going to video game parties and just acting goofy. Maybe it is because I have a teenage mindset. I don’t know, but I enjoy their company and being part of helping to shape their minds as they are growing into adulthood. As a teenager, I sought out those adults who would truly listen and I had the privilege of growing up to be one of those adults.

I am really looking forward to completing my degree and then getting to be in the classroom every day sharing in their lives and helping to prepare them for the world outside. The high school years are a very important time in a person’s life. It is during the teenage years that they are forming what type of person they are going to be. Loyalty to friends, work ethic, outlook on life and various other qualities are formed during this period. I revel in getting to be a part of it.

During the education process I will have to do assigned field experience. I do not get to pick the age group for these assignments and am quite nervous about having to interact with small children for a grade, but I will push through. In the end, I will get to do what I love the most: teach and work with teens. Plus, I will have summers off.