The ever diligent march of technology

Went to church today for worship, God’s word, a shared meal celebrating an upcoming wedding, and came away with some new insight on insulin and needle free injections. In chatting with a fellow parishioner after the meal, he mentioned his upcoming summer plans. They included a family vacation and a business trip to India. When I inquired about his business and reason for traveling, he told me about the medical device company for which he works and their advances in needle free delivery systems. The research and manufacturing are located here in Minneapolis and Basel, Switzerland, but most of their sales (or maybe he said sales growth, I forget) are overseas. They have lots of customers in India and Japan.

I was surprised I had never heard of the place or their device, since the Warden and I have read much on what’s available for diabetics. I suppose it’s something to look into. The website is http://www.mediject.com.

Book Four

I suppose it’s about time to mention another book. It feels like I’m responding to the tagging from my wife (yes that was a “t” and not an “n”) with the same speed that I actually read a book. I may be slow, but it keeps me away from the lawn mower. Seeing that my dear wife has a high reverence for the printed page, she actually has high hopes that I’ll learn something from the books I hide behind. What a great scam. I recline in the Lazy Boy, my eyes glazed over at the page, daydreaming about being in my sailboat, and she washes the dishes. Ah, what a life.

What, the dishes are still sitting dirty in the sink? Oh, oh. She’s caught on quick. I better hurry and list another book, proof that I actually do accomplish something in my blue chair.

Well, since I’ve already cheated and listed “groups” of books previously, I will do that again. I have been captivated and challenged and encouraged and hooked by a number of similar books, dealing with the issue of the history of Christian thought. It’s a fascinating story of how the church, throughout these past two millennia, has faced the challenges of relating a crucified and risen Savior to an ever changing world. The many characters are truly “characters,” full of quirks and heroics, failures and victorious breakthroughs. These works have in common a little bit of history, a little bit of biography, and a lot of drama. The books’ authors that come to my mind are Paul Tillich (a crazy character himself), Roger Olson (a good Scandinavian now living in Texas), and Jonathan Hill (a young and very witty lad from England that might just be related to that Benny guy with the TV show). Some of the other works are more like compilations done by a certain publishing house. But all of the titles are something like “The History of Christian Thought.” So make that my number 4, “a” and “b” and “c” and . . . .

Indecision

I did not blog yesterday. And I may not blog today. But then again I might.

The Quest for pie can be a beautiful thing

This evening, partly as a result of being childless and partly as a result of now having a “working” wife, we had our second night in a row of left-overs for supper. And actually both experiences were very satisfying. But following dinner, I revisited a craving that I’ve been harboring deep inside for the past several days. I suppose it started last Friday or Saturday when I visited Baker’s Square pie shop and came out with a pie different from the one I had in mind as I entered. I walked in with French Silk on the brain and left with a Key Lime in my hand. Now don’t get me wrong, I also love Key Lime pie. And because it was hot outside Key Lime sounded refreshing, and the KL pie was a dollar cheaper, but most of all I knew my wife would probably prefer the KL to the FS. So in a noble altruistic act, I bought the Key Lime and denied myself the French Silk. It did make points. And it was very good.

But . . . . even while eating the Key Lime, I couldn’t completely repress the cravings for that chocolate, cholesterol-laden wonder.

So tonight, off we went. To the pie shop. In a hurry. Without out grabbing my camera. Hoping that they hadn’t sold out for the night.

I often times toss my camera in the car if we’re out for a drive, not wanting to miss an opportunity for an interesting shot. Well, did I ever blow it tonight. This evening’s sky was one so filled with color and drama that I almost lost my craving for pie!!!!

The clouds were layered, almost striped, alternating with the bluish background. The different sections of clouds varied in color from bright white to varying pales of pink to all shades of gray to stark black. And then the blues between the clouds ranged from light pastel to an almost navy dark blue. The clouds themselves varied from wispy light streaks to billowy marshmallow type pillows. And all of this was punctuated by the reason behind all the color, Mr. Sun. At first we couldn’t see our neighborhood star directly, because of the clouds. But then as we climbed an incline approaching a bridge, the solar presence became evident. The bottom one fifth, or so, was hanging down below the clouds and it was RED, yes with capital letters. It truly was on fire. It was hanging only degrees above the horizon, and I was becoming concerned about the trees that were reaching up to touch that red ball.

I wish I could have captured that on film or memory card. But instead it will have to live on only etched in my memory. But it serves as a reminder that going out for pie can be a very beautiful thing indeed.

Good-bye 

As I think I mentioned last week, we said good-bye to one of the family’s vehicles, a 1990 silver Toyota pickup. I never tired of driving that thing, even after I had handed it down to Luke and then Mark. It was a small truck with a big V-6, always plenty of oomph and great handling. It brought me to work for many years, and I’ll never forget the time we used it to haul a trailer all the way to Metropolis, Illinois and back. The time was Thanksgiving weekend and weather was fine for the trip south. But! As we headed north, the snow started falling in northern Illinois.

We were a family of five in this small pickup with an even smaller back seat. It wasn’t too bad when we switched off, using the back truck bed as a place to stretch out and relieving the cramped conditions up front. But with snow and quickly deteriorating conditions, we had to all be buckled in up front. With Wisconsin came more and more snow. The farther we drove the slipperier it got and the more vehicles we saw in the ditches. Each exit ramp, especially those with motels, became a strong temptation to pull off for refuge. But we pressed on. With all the weight behind us, we had pretty decent traction in our rear wheel drive truck. We were climbing Wisconsin’s hills on roads that were barely visible. We were even passing 18 wheelers as they struggled to ascend in first or second gear.

The truck proved faithful all the way to our home’s driveway. The snow never quit that evening. And a stop anywhere in Wisconsin would have meant a long snow day there. We were glad we endured the rough weather, because our beds felt so good that 2 a.m. Monday.

The memories were many more, but the last one is on the back of a large truck towing it to a place where they thought they could get it up and running again. But for now we had to move on. Our months long search was pushed into high gear at the silver truck’s demise and finally ended last Tuesday. We bought another Toy, but this time white, and this time with seven seats, and this time with all wheel drive, just in case we have to drive in Wisconsin again.

Highlander

A Perfect Friday Evening

Friday evening we were fortunate enough to enjoy some great burgers, listen to some happening doo wop, admire thousands of street rods cruising the Boulevard, and soak in some good conversation with old friends (well, maybe not that old).

A perfect night 

I love Blue 

orange ya glad I'm showin ya all this photo 

cool carousel
 

Number Three

My list of Five will have to include a C.S. Lewis book, but I don’t know which one. Should it be Perelandra, or Mere Christianity, or Miracles, The Lion Witch and Wardrobe, or The Great Divorce, or A Grief Observed, or The Screwtape Letters, or any number of other great works? Grant me some slack and we’ll consider the complete collection of Lewis books as my number three. Hey, if we can count God’s collection of 66 as 1, then allow me to let this one slide too.

Hey Buster, You forgot to count my bird bath and dog dish

I awoke Friday morning to the astounding news that Minnesota was not number one. Actually I knew that Alaska was the true leader with over 100,000 of them. But TEXAS?????!!!!!! There is no way in h-e-, I mean Texas, that the Lone Star state has more lakes than good old Minnesnota.

A front page article in the Minneapolis Star Tribune told of an Ohio geography professor that has redefined “lake” and come up with some crazy numbers. Sure enough, he does give the North Star state more than double of what they claim on their license plates—the Land of 10,000 lakes. But ranking Minnesota seventh is ridiculous.

I quizzed my wife on which state ranks first. She gave me several “wrong” answers, so I had to give her HIS answer of Texas. Then I told her Florida was number two. She responded by saying that “I suppose Oklahoma and Kansas are the next two.” Well, she was right, according to said Ohioan’s list.

The way that this character gets his numbers is by counting any collection of water at least 100 feet wide. So for all the farmers that have dug out a pond for their livestock, congratulations. You now have lakefront property. Time to call the appraisers. Let’s quadruple your taxes.

And for all of you lovers of water sports, don’t forget your skis next time you travel to Oklahoma. A boat might not fit in the "lake," but hey, I've got some extra paddles. And I bet you could find some fishing that is OK.

But for now I will take solace in the fact that at least we Minnesotans can walk on our lakes. Take that Texas.

Book Two

Book Two, I guess I’m doing this chronologically. Hearing of Ken Taylor’s death yesterday (or this morning, it’s been a long day), I’m reminded of my old Living Bible in high school. I had grown up reading mostly the KJV and Revised Standard Version, and I had always enjoyed reading the Scriptures. But when I started reading the Living Letters (and then the entire Bible) in that paraphrase, it brought a new joy and excitement to the text. I’ve come across those who like to dis versions that are not “real” translations throughout the years, and I like to hear the majesty of Shakespearean English myself at times, but there is something challenging and fresh when I hear God’s word in my own more casual vernacular. That’s what the Living Bible has done so well over the past few decades.

More recently, I’ve come to appreciate Eugene Peterson’s translation, The Message, even more. But Ken Taylor’s work was ground-breaking. I know most purists would disagree, but I think the spirit of the text is often matched better by works like Peterson’s or Taylor’s than the sometimes too wooden translations done by committee. Thank you Ken. May you enjoy the company of the Living Word.

So I do remember reading a book

1. I’m taking myself back to grade school. My love affair with books started early. I read many sports biographies—Babe Ruth, Johnny Unitas, and other sports greats who made it because “they never gave up.” The message was always the same—sheer determination would pay off in the end. I actually believed I would follow their footsteps into the major leagues or at least to the NFL.

But as good as these books were, I reached a new level with my first Hardy Boys book. I paid a dime for it in a church rummage sale. I think the title was The House on the Cliff. But I’m definitely not sure. I remember getting hooked—and loving it. I wanted to read more and more of the series, and I did.

Yikes

Oh no, I’ve been caught or tagged or cornered or something like that. And I have to do what? And I need to list how many favorite books?

Hmmmmm. I guess I need to start reading. Bye for now.

Arghhhhh . . . . . .

This is Friday's post, although it is being written on Saturday morning. I started writing a couple of different things on Friday, but none of them are finished.

I feel a little like the valiant warriors from Monty Python’s crew that are searching for the Holy Grail. They enter a cave, read the writing on the wall which will give them the answer they need, but it ends with argh . . . . . . They don’t get what they want and conclude that the original scribe must have died while writing.

I have not died while writing, but the Warden feels bad when I don’t post something. So to appease her, here is something to fill up Friday and keep the string alive.

1990 Toyota Pickup

May you rest in peace, or at least in our back yard until we can tow it do the junk yard.

History Lesson

First there was Governor Goofy. He wanted to build a chopsticks factory in Minnesota, so that the state could export chopsticks to China. Then came the Body. He liked to wear a Boa. He couldn’t find time to declare a day of prayer, but did find time to honor the Rolling Stones with a day of their own. Now we have the highest official in the state with a wonderful given name (Tim), but he’s starting to crack. He doesn’t want the state to have a poet laureate, because it might lead to the state having other officially sanctioned artists, like painters and mimes. (DISCLAIMER: I do know that the “real” reasons behind his action are probably part of some political power game with the legislature, but it’s fun to jump on the bandwagon and declare disgust.)


There once was a guv named Pawlenty
Who vetoed a bill that was sent he
Didn’t want a laureate poet
Cause then before you know it
State mimes will be more than plenty.