Thursday

Didn't blog today. Watched the Office.

Wednesday

I didn't blog on Wednesday.

I am woman, my wife is man, hear us roar

Both of us, unbeknownst to the other, answered some questions to determine which "Office" character we were. This was a facebook application that was a temptation to each of us. The results, as hinted to above in the title, I am Pam Beesly and my beloved is Jim Talpert. We've got some sorting out to do. Maybe that's what happens when you turn 50.

Happy Birthday

That says it all.

The Return of THO

There are rewards for blogging. After posting my blog this evening, I took a quick look at it only to have my eyes stray to the the right where I saw that much loved link "The Holy Observer," with the sad message that it has not been updated since 2004. I click on it anyways. And to my surprise, IT IS BACK!!!!!!

Hallelujah. What a Christmas present. Check it out.

Some kind of Play

Now that I’ve broken the ice and blogged, here I go again. In episode two of Suzi’s birth week I venture to give a report of last evening. Vada voom vada voom. Well, not quite. We headed to bed a little earlier than usual and popped in a DVD. It’s one that I bought with my belated birthday gift card to Border’s Books. After hours of perusing and lusting over the too many books, I broke down and purchased two DVDs—a Neil Young concert and a documentary.

We’ve kinda sorta gotten into documentaries this summer. Maybe it started when we watched one at Cornerstone on Reverend Billy and his stop shopping campaign. After coming back from our July vacation I started picking up DVDs at the library. I think the first one was “Word Wars,” a look at the competitive Scrabble champions of the world. What an odd collection of delightful eccentrics. Then we grabbed one called “Devil’s Playground” chronicling the lives of horse-and-buggy Amish teen-agers who are given the chance to sow their wild oats when they turn 16, without any parental restraints. As Laugh-ins Arte Johnson said “very interesting.”

Then it was one on the Hindenburg and then some others, but to move this story along: last night we watched “Wordplay.” “Wordplay” looks into the lives of people who complete and compete for the New York Times Daily Crossword puzzle. Besides starring Bill Clinton, Bob Dole, and the Daily Show host, John Stewart, it featured the editor of the NYT puzzle himself, Will Shortz. I was amazed at how different themes were built into each puzzle and surprised by how quickly the regulars could solve an entire puzzle. However, even with the amazement and surprise and delight, we didn’t quite make it all the way through, falling asleep before the final credits rolled.

Well, maybe tonight.

Turning Fifty

I read a blog today. So is that big news? Well, maybe if it’s been four months since I’ve completed such a task.

It was a good blog. It chronicled the day after Thanksgiving. And I was even mentioned in the blog. That always makes reading material more interesting, when you see your own name in print. It’s worth reading.

I’ve thought about blogging a bit these past many months. But how would I break back into it after such a long absence? What would be important enough to write about?

I guess being married to a fifty year old woman might be reason enough. In a mere two days I will be married to a fifty year old woman. Maybe I need to write that again just so it will sink in and not be such a shock—a fifty year old woman. I guess if I contemplate this too long, it might lead me into some sort of depression or despair. It could cause me to confront my own mortality.

However, as I roll things around in my head, as I consider who that soon-to-be-50 gal is, my mind is not unsettled. My heart in fact is gladdened. As that brochure, which my S. O. referenced, brought laughs to her many friends, so the thought that the “half-century one” is none other than my wonderful Suzi, my whole being rejoices. She’s a lot of fun, and I still appreciate her great big heart. It’s great to be loved. I hope I can return the favor for many years to come.

And the Blog Goes On

It’s down to the last minute for me to blog this month. Tomorrow we leave the comforts of Minnesota for the oppressive regions of middle Illinois. And most likely I will not have internet access, so the time is now.

Last Tuesday evening I sat in a circle (as we always do) at our Bible (or sermon) discussion group at Solomon’s Porch. Each week to “break the ice” we start by giving our full name (first, middle, and last) and then answering a question, in brief or at length, about ourselves. The question de jour for Tuesday was “what are you skilled at, or at what do you excel?”

That is a tougher question than it appears—at least for me. At first I thought about work related stuff, i.e. drywall taping, but then I decided to share my passion for playing board games, i.e. Scrabble, Risk, Blokus, Carcassonne, Settlers of Cataan, and on and on. I claimed proficiency, yeah even excellence at these endeavors. I love to strategize and plan around a table. For me it’s a wonderful meaningful way to socialize.

But the reason I mention this story is for the response of the gentleman seated to my immediate left. He’s a very thoughtful, articulate, well-read, maybe a bit nerdy, yet attentive guy. Maybe he struggled too in coming up with an answer. But he responded by claiming that he must be pretty good at blogging. He said he wasn’t sure, but he was amazed at how many hits his blog has received since its inception a year and a half ago. Then he gave us a number which was too high for me to remember. I forget if it was tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands or more. Whatever, I figured he must have something important to say.

Well, in checking out the site I find out he writes about crossword puzzles! Crossword puzzles as in the New York Times daily crossword puzzle. Why didn’t I think of that? I ramble on erratically about no specific topic, when I could have picked a frivolous activity and thereby captured a focal point upon which to build my words. Oh well.

Also interesting, I found out when searching for his blog that earlier this decade this chap actually taught a class at a local university on the very subject of blogging. (They sure didn’t offer any blogging classes at the college I attended—back in the late 70s.) And I found that our blog rolls, shared a common blog, namely “Katie’s Beer.” (However, one might never realize that since I have given this blog a more personal, endearing title.) The things one learns at a Bible discussion group.

Well, I did it. I broke the ice. I kept my buns in the chair long enough. I gave my wife something to read. So here it is—another month, another post.

Suzi sent me flowers (it's a double petunia!)

 

Double Petunia (bless you)

To beat the rush at the end of the month, I've decided to post my monthly blog on this 19th day. Early.

For some reason (certainly unknown to me) the phrase "double petunia" popped into my head this afternoon. It was an expression I haven’t thought of since high school. So I asked the Warden, “do you know what double petunia is?”

Well, she didn’t, and doesn’t, and probably will not in the foreseeable future unless I tell her.

So here is my best recollection of what is double petunia:

A petunia is a flower like a begonia,
A begonia is a meat like a sausage,
Sausage and battery is a crime,
Monkeys crime trees,
Trees a crowd,
A rooster crowd and made a noise,
A noise is on your face just like your eyes,
Eyes is the opposite of nays,
A horse neighs and has a colt,
You go to bed with a colt and wake up in the morning with double petunia.

I now beg absolution for not burying that ditty further in my brain, away from any chance of surfacing again.

This does speak volumes of my high school education. Hail Armstrong!

Last chance to blog in April

the title says it all

I missed the "Ides of March" and I'm in the process of missing St. Patrick's Day.

Over half way through March and I still haven't blogged.

A Puzzle

The past few days I’ve been playing techie at home and at my mom’s office. I found out that our Tivo will not work with our new VOIP. This forced me to network the Tivo with our computers and internet. Since all four of our wired connections are full, I was forced to consider wireless, which I have heretofore resisted. But the Warden needs her Tivo!!! I had no choice.

Long story short I finally got that up and running and working properly so Gilmore Girls can once again be recorded on HER Tivo everyday. On my mission, as I was poking around in different shared network files, I found an old Microsoft Word document entitled “sister killer.” I was intrigued.

I opened the file and remembered this great puzzle to which I once knew the answer. But now I cannot remember the solution. The Warden would probably remember the answer, but that would be too easy for me to simply ask her.

So I’ve decided to post the riddle and see if I can remember the solution before anyone else can come up with it. The race is on.

And here it is:

A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met this guy whom she did not know. She thought this guy was amazing, she believed him to be her dream and she fell in love with him right there but did not ask for his number and no matter how hard she tried she could not find him.

A few days later she killed her sister.

Question: What is her motive in killing her sister?

A Safe Time to Post This

 

With my brother buried deep in tax returns, I figured this would be a safe time to post his 1971 impersonation of Austin Powers. He was always way ahead of the curve.

Small Town Missouri

I’m sure everyone is sad to see the gassy Robert Tilton leave his perch atop my humble blog. But as Scripture says: “this too shall pass.”

My fingers have finally thawed out enough to poke out a few lines on the keys. This past month has been a friendly reminder that we really do live in Minnesota. And yes, one’s breath is something that can be seen, whether one gargles or not.

I’ve actually had the privilege to catch up on the piles upon my desk. And what do you suppose that I found? I came across a wonderful mapquest that I gave to my son Mark last summer as he traveled to Quincy, Illinois for a music audition.

To my amazement, forming a triangle a short distance west of that river town were the small Missouri towns of Mark and Benjamin and Nelson(ville). What a cool trifecta. I hope the scanned copy is clear enough to read on my blog. If not, you’ll have to go to www.mapquest.com yourself and look just to the left of Quincy.

Oh, the things that pile up on my desk. Oh, the things that pass for a blog.

 

Open the Windows of Heaven

Time Warp

tax season has started

i am behinder and behinder

here i run i can do no other

Rich Mullins Tribute

I'm attempting a different way to post videos to my blog. What better way than to start with Rich.

Yeah but you should see the other guy

I’ll have to place the blame upon my better half for what you will not see in my blog. I was planning to come home and head straight to the computer to blog. I was planning to take a picture of myself and post it to my blog. I was planning to thrill you with a sight that caused me to smile as I caught myself in the rear view mirror on my way home from work.

This afternoon I dropped a gob of mud (yeah the white stuff) right into my left eye. I blinked in time to prevent any mud from actually going in the eye, but I left a wonderful ring around the eyeball which looked exactly like I had one mean black eye, only this one was white. It was great. It was funny. But you will never see in on my blog. Sorry.

As I took a shower shortly after coming home, and as I was in there I felt the mud flaking from my eye. Oh no I thought, I have wrecked it big time. Was Suzi really at my computer blocking my access and forcing me to the showers early? I think so. Or at least she will make for a convenient fall guy (or gal) in this tale of whoa.

Well, now we’re late for dinner. I’m outta here.

Returning the favor

Not to be outdone by my lovely--this is what I'll be getting her for Valentine's Day.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lpA0Abn52RQ

Suzi's best blog ever

Check it out!

American Idol (part 7)

My wife just informed me that I am now missing American Idol. In what sense did she mean that? Was she telling me how I should feel? Or was she stating a fact that I sit here blogging instead of being glued to the tube.

So this is a very time-sensitive blog. Could my dearest speak those same words an hour from now? So if you are reading this at a time after 8 pm Central on Wednesday night, you can pretend to be in a time warp, almost like time traveling. And I suppose you won't be faced with the dilemma of whether to watch or not.

But my wife is in the other room and she is laughing. What am I missing? Our dog is not holding his paws over his ears, so it can't be that.

Oh, wait now the paws are coming up. Well it's best for me to stay holed up here in my office.

No need to visit Swansmith.blogspot.com tonight

Suzi claims she cannot blog today, something to do with blogger. How sad is that?

p.s. the streaks alive for me if this works

Be a Canadian Idol

One of my favourite Canadians challenged me to a showdown of minds. The quiz in question asks "so you think you know Canada, eh?" I scored 10 out of 20 points. It’s a toughy. Click here. Good luck.

American Idol (part 6)

My own A.I. show:





Thanks Dave!!!

American Idol (part 5)

We used a gift certificate this afternoon for our after church lunch. We ate at the Macaroni Grill, a first for both the Warden and me. It was actually delicious. We joined some friends from church, a mixed couple. One grew up in the suburbs of Minneapolis and one grew up in Canada. Eh?

It was fun because us Americans, real Americans, out-numbered the Canuck five to one. He was trying to hold his own, but it was his wife that got the biggest smile out of us by asking him what he calls a woman who works in a brothel. His reply, a “whooo-er,” closely rhyming with “sewer,” not our conventional “south of the border” rhyme with “store.”

So I learned something new today. I knew they wore tukes (however that is spelled) and they are always hard of hearing saying “eh?” to everything and I knew they ended their alphabet with a zed, but I thought whoooo-ers were confined to Whoville.

Now how does this all tie into American Idol you might ask. Well, Weird Al did a wonderful song entitled “Canadian Idiot, which was a parody of Green Day’s song “American Idiot,” which Green Day (which sounds an awfully lot like “good day”) did not sing on the American Idol TV show. Come to think of it Weird Al never performed his version on American Idol either, and I don’t believe that anyone who has ever sung on American Idol has ever covered this song of his. But, if Mr. Al had sung on American Idol, THEN I would have watched and maybe even taped or TiVo-ed it. So yet another rationale for not watching American Idol--no Weird Al songs.

For as Weird Al says:
Don't wanna be a Canadian idiot
Don't wanna be some beer swillin' hockey nut
And do I look like some frostbitten hose-head?
I never learned my alphabet from A to Zed

Well maple syrup and snow's what they export
They treat curling just like it's a real sport
They think their silly accent is so cute
Can't understand a thing they're talkin' aboot

That almost says it all. Except to say that Canadians are the greatest. They're always so nice, even as us big ugly Americans pick on them. And I guess the worst way that we pick on them is by sending them our American TV shows.

And how do they respond?
Second City
Red Green

American Idol (part 4)

In visiting my blogging father I was inspired by someone who should definitely be on American Idol. You can link to him at http://ideajoy.blogspot.com/2007/01/haunted-by-pachelbel.html. Or I can try to figure out how to post a youtube deal on my own blog. Maybe I should just ask. Hey Dave!

American Idol (part 3)

I've found my new model for blogging. Maybe I will include this guy in my sidebar if I ever get around to it. His name is Bjorn. I could tell you more about him, but I'll let his blog speak for itself. I won't tell you what he calls his blog, because I feel he's done a great job encapsulating what it’s all about himself.

To easily get to his blog you will need to click here, yes right here on this word now.

Wasn’t that worth it? But what does this have to do with American Idol? Well I think Bjorn gets it.

On a somewhat different note, there are many fine people that dare to put up with what it takes to showcase their talent. I actually had breakfast Wednesday morning with a long time friend and relative whose niece made all those who watched the first show of the season very proud. She made Excelsior, MN proud. My mother who religiously watches the show rather than ever reading my blog told me all about it.

My mother watches American Idol. I blog. What does this say? Who is most in need of help?

American Idol (part 2)

As you’ve probably noticed the last two posts (heck the whole month of January) have been a shining example, real living proof, that anyone can blog. Perhaps that is my mission, to lead by example, to help all American Idol wannabes say to themselves, “I could do that!”

Bringing “idiotic” to an art form. Yeah, that could be my motto.

American Idol

Not that I would ever watch that show, but when I think back on what was posted under yesterday’s date, I think that that English guy Simon (from that show that I will not watch) would have a field day. He could use words like sophomoric, pedantic, immature, jejune, and puerile. And he would be happy. And you would think that I have seen the show because of this comment, but I haven’t, it’s just that I’ve heard so much from so many people that do watch that show. They watch and they dream and they gasp and they stare and they laugh and they think that that could be them or that they are watching a train wreck and no one knows that they are staring.

I guess American Idol is a lot like blogging.

DISCLAIMER: Is it possible to tell that today’s posting was done with a splitting headache, the result of a prolonged head cold?

Oops! I did it again!

Oops! I did it again,
I back-dated again,
I made you believe I was consistent again,
Oh baby
My blog might seem like a constant
But it’s all in manipulation of dates
‘Cause to lose my endurance
Is just so typically me

You see my problem is this
I’m blogging away
Wishing that lurkers, they truly exist
I try, watching the dates
Can't you see that you’re fooled in so many ways
But to lose all your senses
You need to continually read
Baby, oh, baby, oh, baby

Oh no what is he trying to do
Bubble gum in his shoe
This should be tossed in the loo
Has he sipped some strange brew?
I think his brain cells are now few
We might have to pursue
Some legal action or sue
To stop this madness that grew
To something much like dog pooh
Oh when will this blog be through?
Now? Whew!

A Guest from the east

We are hosting the internationally renowned representative of the northeastern Wisconsin ice fishing, home schooling, baking, and blogging coalition (NEWIFHOSBABLCO) tonight. She is staying in our very home. Now I don’t think she’s here to inspect our home schooling set-up (since we have none) or our abilities to fish or bake (since not much of that happens here either), but I have a sneaking suspicion that our blogs will be under careful scrutiny while she is here. I will have to be concise, informative, and interesting if I choose to write anything. And I suppose that I WILL have to write something.

I won’t be able to brush off this evening with a lame comment about how I have nothing to say and count that as my day’s entry. I will have to strive for substance and relevance. I will have to make my blog look like other people’s blogs. It might have to have a theme or topic. People reading it must actually be tempted to reference it.

Wow. That’s setting the bar pretty high. I’m getting spooked.

I’ll just pray that she gets busy with other endeavors while she’s here and doesn’t stumble upon my blog.

MLK

My boss made me work today—this 21st anniversary of the beginning of the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday. I hope that doesn’t make him a racist. He rather appreciates most of what the good doctor had to say. He used to sit in the Armstrong High School Media Resource Center (i.e. library) and listen to King’s “I Have a Dream” speech at one of the audio desks which were outfitted with comfy huge headphones that drowned out all the distractions of the school day. He loved the cadence and rhythm of that speech. And the hope-filled, forward-looking message is one he’d like to take to heart. He used to see the reverend as an old man who’d been around the block a few times (and surely his years were filled to overflowing), but now he thinks of him as a kid who died way too young, not even reaching the magic age of 40. But his message reverberates through the decades and the ageless words still confront and challenge all of us—me, my boss, and I.

A Week Late and . . .

I missed another chance to celebrate. I learned from the dear blogger of the Northland that last week was National De-lurking Week.

Now last week I didn’t even know what de-lurking was. And this week I’m writing a post about it. Imagine that. Last week I had posted about being "a day late and . . ." So maybe I’m making progress. Or is that regressing?

Anyways, lurkers are those internet readers who visit a site anonymously and leave no trace of their presence. They contribute not to the discussion. In researching the term I found writers who were actually analyzing this phenomenon and categorizing these lurkers into different types. I found it all quite interesting.

Myself being a wikipedia lurker, I thought I would “sample” the categories found there:

1) malevolent lurkers – whiny moralists that complain to moderators
2) benign lurkers – those too shy to say anything
3) constructive lurkers – only comment when they have time to provide well-thought-out insights
4) smart-ass lurkers – you can probably figure out their modus operandi

Following these categories was an observation about the sometimes useful role of lurkers. Like a silent majority they can be called upon to garrison one’s position. To quote wikipedia:
“In flame wars, a person who is losing the argument and being ganged up on from all sides will sometimes make the claim that he is receiving email support from lurkers who are afraid join in the discussion. Such arguments are looked down upon since they cannot be proven without posting the emails, which is considered bad netiquette.
Such claims inspired Jo Walton to write the filk "Lurkers Support Me in Email".”

The lyrics to this filk can be found on wikipedia under lurker.

Now, we all need to find out what a filk is. Actually I now know what it is, but I’m not sure I should include that in this post on lurking. Two topics per post is too much especially on a Sunday.

My Ship Finally Came in (from Thailand)

Any future as a hand model?

I'm finally able to post pictures again

blog, the second

Now that I’ve met my daily obligation I can relax and write from the heart. As all of us know there are many fine blogs floating around these days. But sadly we often encounter some that offend our sensibilities. I would like to warn everyone about a site masquerading as a mere redneck blog with “Dixie” blasting away in the background. Sure, this blog includes some helpful hints to let people know if indeed they might actually be a redneck, but then the site turns nasty. It presents some very sexist jokes under the guise of redneck humor. I’m sure that we all agree that jokes such as this are uncalled for. For example: How many men does it take to open a beer? None. It should be opened when she brings it.

And it even gets worse.
If your dog is barking at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, who do you let in first? The dog, of course. He'll shut up once you let him in.

And then this site even gets crude with the question, Why do men fart more than women? Because women can't shut up long enough to build up the required pressure.

And I thought “blond” jokes were the bottom of the barrel. This guy sums up his philosophy by analyzing why there’s an inequality between the sexes. Stated succinctly he claims that: Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy.

Well, that gives me confidence.

On track again

These words are coming to you on this very day. Isn't that special?

a day late and . . .

Once again these words were not composed on the day under which they appear. I do not plan to continue this charade concerning my consistency when it comes to blogging. The minutes spent at my desk are as erratic as my thoughts when I sit here.

Does this call into question the responsible nature of this first born child?

The Twelfth Day of Blogging

As long as I'm sitting here at my computer, I better grab this date legitimately, so I don't have to pull another stunt like I did a few minutes ago and predate a blog just to keep my string alive. For those looking for substance in a blog, feel free to bypass this post and search elsewhere for something of significance. This here is merely a few words quickly pounded out, kind of like saving a seat for someone, just in case the "writer" of this blog decides to say something today worth reading.

on this very day

This post which you are not reading on the 10th of January was not actually posted on the 10th of January, because I was very busy on the 10th of January and my wife forced me to take her out to eat on the 10th of January and then she was laughing so loud at the “Everybody Loves Raymond” that was rebroadcast on the 10th of January that I had to enter the bedroom to see what the deal was, so thus she effectively lured me away from my computer on which I was going to post a 10th of January blog so that my string of successive blogs would not end on the 10th of January, which they kind of did even though you are reading this post listed under the date of the 10th of January even though it was not written on the 10th of January, which makes me out to be some sort of liar, or at least a little bit deceptive because I’ve decided to change the date so that it appears on the 10th of January and kind of/ sort of keeps the string alive AS IF that is actually a good thing.

Amazement

I can't believe that I wrote what I did yesterday.

Read any good flogs today?

Was that a tie Poe? A parent lee knot. Eye herd on the radio too day that sum people have fake blogs!!! Ken ewe imagine that? Phonies, fakes, imitators, counterfeiters pretending to be advancing the well being of us all, bye actually running advertising disguised as a legitimate blog. How crass is that?

These folk our trying two pull the wool over are eyes. (This blog has been interrupted by my youngest, you know the one, she came barging in and has been talking constantly for the last 20 minutes, and I’ve completely lost where I’m going and I can’t . . . whoah . . . now she’s making me laugh as I type, she’s going on and on about women’s roles in society, etc. and now I’m lost and confused and humored so I need to just quit as I type and try to listen at the same time. Blah blah blah.

Posting the night away

I almost didn't post today. But what would that say. . .

New Song

In the good old days of blogging I had access to a website called audioblogger. We could all use it to record sound bites or longer pieces of our mind onto our blogs. It's no longer possible to use that site. Blogger recommends another site, for which I signed up and with which I toyed around. But I thought there would be some way possible to upload a .wav file to my blog without having to call some 1-800 number.

The reason I want to do this is that my son Mark recorded an awesome blues tune today. I was able to transfer it to my iTunes program so that I can listen to it on my iPod. But it would be fun to share it with the person who reads my blog, the treasured Warden.

Maybe someday.

TISTF

I’ve known for a long time that truth is stranger than fiction. (Even though I know that fiction can also be true, but you know what I mean and what others mean when they use fiction in that sense, meaning that what actually happens historically is usually stranger than what we can imagine in our made-up worlds, or in our made-up sentences which have no basis in style or clarity or succinctness.) I remember back to my early days of reading the Wittenburg Door, back before it was just “The Door” and back before it was glossy and back before it was loaded with self-promotion, one of my favorite sections was TISTF, Truth is Stranger than Fiction. Well, anyways (two of my favorite throw away words, and in some circles my signature mutterings) I’ve been thinking a lot about that proposition of late.

A few nights ago I went to bed and was handed the remote by my loyal wife as is her dutiful obligation. Within seconds she was fast asleep and I was left holding the power buttons. I planned to also sack out soon, but the temptation to click overwhelmed me and I clicked through about half the channels until I came across an odd sight. On the screen was an attractive 30-something woman with a clerical collar holding many different colored markers in her hands as she pranced on a stage in front of numerous white boards, each filled with languages other than English. I recognized the Greek and the Hebrew, but I did not recognize the other few languages, I think Aramaic and one other. She jumped around from word to word and language to language, showing off her amazing ability with foreign languages.

She seemed to be quite fair and accurate, as far as I could tell (for whatever that’s worth), but something didn’t seem right as she bounced around on stage. To me it came across more like shameless self-promotion than helpful teaching, kind of like my blogging. She kept talking about how wonderful the insights were that appeared before us on the white boards, and she kept referring to herself as Pastor Scott or Mrs. Scott, and referred often to her husband. I watched it to the end, hearing her make her conclusion and then sing a song she had written about Elijah. Although a little confused by it all, I was able to quickly, almost immediately, fall asleep.

As I thought about the previous evening’s program, it seemed odd to me that I had never heard of this lady or her husband. They seemed to have had quite the audience, and the auditorium was very impressive. So the next day, Wednesday or Thursday (I forget which one), I did some research online. I’ll have to write about that soon. It confirmed my belief that TISTF.

How Sad :^(

My wife just informed me that there is nothing under today's date in my blog.

Ku lu ku ku ku lu ku ku

I heard an ad on the radio today for an event coming soon to the Minneapolis Convention Center in downtown. It’s a great place for a convention—I’ve been there numerous times. I’ve been to the auto show, checking out all the latest. I’ve been to the RV show to dream about all the latest in recreational vehicles. I’ve been to the boat show, trying to hurry along the warm months in this frigid state. And I’ve been there for dozens of other events like the Home and Garden Show, the Remodeling Show, the landscaping show and on and on. Each of these shows trying their best to sell their wares. I’ve never bought a car or boat, but we did buy a camping trailer once.

These shows must be extremely successful in selling what they show as evidenced by the huge number of vendors willing to fork out the huge ching to secure their spot. The ad I listened to today has me confused though. It was advertising the “All Canadian Show.”

What’s the deal? How much does a Canadian go for these days? Can I get a good price on a cool Canuck? What exactly are they selling? And why did they pick this first week of January to promote our neighbors to the north? And why here in Minneapolis? Is there a shortage of Molson or Moosehead or Labatt? Eh?

And will the McKenzies be there? So far I’m not tempted to head over there to check it ouuut. But it might be fun to stand outside and do some sight-seeing people-watching.

Maybe this is where they winter? Well, I suppose I should welcome those snowbirds.

New Look

I know this is pretty radical for me. I'm not one for change, at least when it comes to my blog. But with a new year comes a new look. We'll see how long it lasts. A change back to status quo is but a mouse click away.

Update

I just updated to the new blogger. But I have no idea what the ramifications are. But I will be able to add labels now. So I need to figure out if I want to.

Happy New Year

I have not yet blogged in ’07. I guess this would be a good day to start.

I finished ’06 by doing a lot of driving and riding. Our car was on the road for two continual stretches of approximately 20 hours each—once on Christmas and once on New Year’s Eve eve.

I suppose it’s not really news that we did not run out of gas during those 2,200 plus miles of driving. We consumed lots of gas and we were responsible to make sure the tank never ran too low.

Being one that doesn’t like to stop much on a long voyage, I am always tempted to make each stop count. Making one stop count as potty break, gasoline refueling, and stomach filling is my version of a trifecta. Getting all vital fluids exchanged in sync is always a worthy goal for me. It’s the game I love to play as we race against the clock.

In playing this game we were successful the entire week. Not once did we sputter to the gas station. We tempted the reddish orange light that appears at the bottom of the fuel gauge a few times, but not once did we have to call for roadside assistance. I take care to have things like this under control.

However. (And you knew as well as me that this was coming.) However, once I did run out of gas. On a family vacation. On the interstate. Pulling our camper. In Wisconsin. On our way to the Dells. And I will never, no never, be allowed to forget that event. It is the story that our family’s identity revolves around. And it is the tale that is constantly referred to anytime the gas gauge nears half a tank. “Remember the time . . .” “Yes, yes, I remember.” “And remember . . .” “Yes, yes I remember.”

So the good news of this past week, in addition to seeing family and friends, was that we ran not out of gas. But I did get to relive that memory a number of times, each time I suggested that we could make it at least one more exit. (And as a side note, none of us suffered from malnutrition or incontinence.) As a family we were in sync. May 2007 be as good.