Finally

I came through!

La de dah

La de dah la de dah la de dah

La de dah la de dah la de ma

Dippety do yeah yup

Dippety do yeah pup

La de dah la de dah la de pa.

The Day After

It sometimes pays to be late
To procrastinate or to just plain wait
When discounts abound
Lots of deals can be found
But do I now look like a cheapskate?

More Heartfelt than Flowers

There once was a gal named Suzanne
Whose fair singing was best in the land,
At the drop of a hat,
She’d weave a song that
Would make us believe she’s so grand.

Almost anything that she would hear
Could send her quick mind in high gear.
She’d croon for all those
Who could not find repose,
So that’s why she’s the one we revere.

Super Sad Sunday (and Monday)

Sunday morning I arose early to once again tell my wonderful wife that we should dump the daily newspaper. I seldom make time to read it and it just clutters up the house and my truck. But as I sat down to eat my morning oats as any good horse would, I grabbed the thick paper filled to overflowing with ads. I couldn’t easily find a book and I always, yes always, have to have a written security blanket sitting next to my morning bowl.

So away I go chomping and reading, reading and crunching, trying to chew and digest both at the same time. One of the front page articles on this special Sunday was about Northwest Airlines, their financial troubles and the employee concessions being made. As I glanced through the article with its many pictures, I noticed some familiar faces. Near the bottom of the page was a married couple who both worked for Northwest and I recognized them. In fact I spent a lot of last summer working on their lakefront home. The article told of how they had spent the past three plus years remodeling their dream home and now they were finally ready to enjoy it and spend the rest of their years in this place. However, it looks like she will be losing her job and his wages will be cut substantially. And there is just no way they can stay there under these circumstances. It was sad reading of their plight, having worked with these wonderful people.

Later in the day I attended a second church service. This one in south Minneapolis. The gathering was encouraging and enriching, but what will stick with me the longest is what happened near the end of the service. Each week a different member of their community introduces communion. This particular evening the call was given to a long-time participant who strolls along with the aid of a walker on wheels and needs the assistance of a computer to speak. He is fed through a tube and wasn’t expected to live much past birth. Through the computerized voice modulator he told some of his life story. He weaved this in with his trials related to taking the Eucharist. His disabilities have excluded him in more ways that one. As he introduced the meal we were all moved and challenged by his powerful insights. And even though he gave us quite a few things to laugh at, we were also saddened by much of what he has had to endure.

Once back at home, the wonderful one and I went out for a quick bit to eat. Back home I wanted to quickly check in to see if there were any updates from a couple who attends this fellowship and has been dealing with having a very premature baby girl still in the hospital. From their blog I stumbled upon a fellow couple from that church. I started reading their blog and then I was really bummed. What a tragic year they have had, dealing with four young kids and severe depression leading to hospitalization. The trials some people face seem insurmountable.

Then this morning I was greeted with even more sad news. One of the guys whom I have employed for almost three months and gotten to know quite well has slipped up. He graduated from Teen Challenge last year and was doing quite well putting his life back together. However, I got word that he left the halfway house where he has been living and we haven’t been able to contact him.

All this to say that I probably shouldn’t get too upset over a relatively small thing like having to bring in our year old Highlander for what might be some major repair (and with 42,000 miles, it’s not under warranty). Oh well, at least I blogged.

# 3--My fifteen minutes (heck a whole day) of fame

I'm just to the right of the cross in the back row.

I was tagged some time ago with the responsibility of telling five things that people did not know about me. I guess I’ve mentioned a few things, but not wanting to rush into complete disclosure, I still have three tidbits left to share. Well, it’s a good thing I waited, for today I’ve made it big. Real big. Front page big.

After neglecting the Minneapolis Star Tribune for weeks, I finally took a glance at today’s front page when I sat down for lunch. And what did I find? What a surprise it was. There I was front (no make that back) and center. Actually I was as far back as you could get. But there I was with my shiny bald head projecting proudly. I am there just to the right of the cross, the good looking one (cross, that is). Some tall guy in the foreground is waving his hands profusely. I think his name is Doug. (Actually I do know that his name is Doug, ‘cause I see him a lot at Solomon’s Porch.)

Doug is showing the photographer how she should adjust the focus and zoom in a little more so that she could capture that bald guy in the very back row. But apparently she must have some wimpy zoom and couldn’t get that special shot without interrupting all the people reclining in their couches. Oh well, Kyndell will just have to try harder next time.

It is time...

Tim isn't here. He's doing tax work. I, the tax widow, am home alone.

So, I think to myself, it is time.

Time to hijack the blog. Again.

Time to fill in the space with words so you can have something, even something trivial and meaningless, to read until the day when the Author Of Blobjects Returns.

He'll be back. One day, he'll return.

But until then, here's some drivel from his other half to fill up the empty space.

Keep up the vigil--I know it will be worth the wait.

--timman's wife aka The Warden aka Swansmith