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.

Many, many upcoming Milestones (or mile markers)

It’s been awhile since I have had any type of relationship with the blogosphere. Even now I’m feeling guilty as I glance over to an unpacked suitcase. If the kids were up, we could move on to gift-opening and stocking-unstuffing. But for now I wait and procrastinate at the same time.

I did check my email. Maybe someone would send greetings that way this fine morning, I thought. But no. All I found were more ads for things that I neither want nor need. And I found some strange email as a result of someone commenting on my blog. Basically the guy (or gal) was trying to sell me drugs on line. The drug he was offering was one with which I was not familiar. So, of course, I had to do a little research. But anyways, back to where I was going, back to the point I was trying to make, before I totally loose my train of thought, and before the kids awaken, or before my wife summons me to some morning chores, it is (and this is the actual point I am trying to make, in case you get lost in my rather unusual and disjointed sentence structure or lack thereof) very strange how people end up stumbling upon a certain blog. Is it random? Is it serendipitous? Is it fate?

Did you know that if you use AOL and search for something linking armpit lumps and paint fumes you will end up at “Blobjects by Timman?” Of course you will also end up being pointed to “the pooh freak” and “the duke of earl” as well as some legitimate medical sites. But I never would have thought my humble ramblings might be of assistance to someone trying to make that important link in their lives.

And if I keep writing, I will probably see some way that all of this relates to Christmas. It could be that Christmas on many levels doesn’t really make sense. It really is quite a preposterous story. A Creator becoming a creature? Someone wholly other becoming completely intimate with us? A gift-giver becoming the gift?

Well, this should give me something to ponder as I spend 20 plus hours locked up in a relatively small vehicle with three kids and a wife. It could be torture, but I rather hope that it will be a time of sheer joy and harmonious together.

Merry Christmas again.