TV Star Again

The first time I was on TV was a long time ago. I was very young, not at all experienced as an actor. But there I was on the tube and enjoying it.

It didn't last that long though. My mother came in yelling. She told me to get down immediately. "You're going to scratch something," she said.

Not too many years after that, I was filmed (I think it was before videotape) taking my soap box derby car down a steep hill in NE Minneapolis. There on citywide TV, I lost by a nose.

Then in my teen years I traveled with my baseball teammates to take on the championship team from Minot, ND. I was shown hitting a double on the evening news. But that was then.

This is now. As a legitimate "old fart" I have tried to avoid the camera. When the local NBC affiliate came to our house a few years back and set up their huge TV camera in our family room I was able to stay clear of the wide angle lens. They captured only our vibrant exchange student from Japan and my lovely wife.

However.

This morning started like any other Tuesday morning. I woke up and skipped breakfast at home in order to join the "guys" of the Porch men's breakfast at a restaurant in south Minneapolis. For the past few months we've been meeting at Victor's 1959 Cuban Cafe, a quaint little spot half way between "yuppiedom" and the "Hood." The food is great, the prices are good, and the atmosphere is engaging.

The owner, from what I've heard, is a strong supporter of Castro. And this is not too surprising if you look around at the posters and graffiti in the place. The sign above the front door warns people that they are "now leaving the American sector." It's a funky place and we've been having fun there these many winter weeks.

Before entering the restaurant this morning I saw a KSTP TV van parked on the street in front of Victor's. I didn't think much of it, seeing that it's a busy urban block with lots going on. But once in my booth I looked a few chairs to my right and I saw this guy holding a huge video camera. And then I noticed this young, attractive (here I am glad that my wife does not know I am blogging) young, well-dressed, young woman holding a microphone. She was interviewing a gentleman. I was trying to overhear. Finally, I got the drift of the conversation. It was about Castro, about him resigning. Now I got it. (I'm a little slow.) They were at this Cuban restaurant trying to get Cubans' reactions to the news.

So after that one interview was over, the young woman comes to our table. Usually we're about 5 to 6 strong, but this morning when she approached it was only Simon (the Australian) and me. (I later found out that Simon thought she came to "hit" on him.) I knew by then what she was up to, so I tried to stay invisible. I told her that I've been too busy to follow the news and she would be better served if she could wait for some of the late-arriving "experts" in our groups, those who actively follow politics.

After successfully "brushing her off," she went back to Simon and convinced him to put on a lapel mic. She then recorded him for about five minutes as he pontificated in his best Crocodile Dundee voice. He basically said that he didn't think much would change until Fidel actually dies.

When I got home I thought I would check KSTP's web site to see what they decided to report. I watched a re-broadcast from earlier in the day. They showed this gentleman from Cuba giving his take and then they showed our table. And for some odd reason they decided to show a close-up of me drinking coffee, "fair-trade" coffee no doubt. Unfortunately, Simon's words of wisdom were dropped on the cutting room floor, while my smiling face was kept for posterity.

So there you have it. I've spilled the beans.

President's Day

Hail to the chiefs. I read an article a few months back about great American presidents. It was in a Teaching Company catalog trying to sell lectures about the presidents. The professor who presents the lectures had selected the 12 greatest presidents in his opinion.



As you would expect, I was surprised by some, but not by others. Of course the original G. W. would have to be on the short list along with honest Abe and the man from Monticello. But who else should be included?



I asked a friend from church to give me his input, since he loves all things presidential. But he has yet to get back to me. I think he's waiting for himself to be put in that office before he gives me his definitive list.



I'm going to start listing them as I remember them, and then if I can find that catalog (I don't think I tossed it) I will complete the list.



1. George Washington

2. Thomas Jefferson

3. Abraham Lincoln

4. Franklin Roosevelt

5. Ronald Reagan

6. Thomas Jefferson



I'll go look for that article.

Random Thing # 7

7. I think I'm addicted to Scrabulous on facebook.

Alright. Now I'm done with that obligation, even though it really wasn't an obligation, since no one actually tagged me; it was more of a preemptive strike, a way to stay one up on the Warden who will some day discover that I'm again blogging, and probably demand to know those deep dark secrets that I only reveal when I'm faced with a challenge like coming up with random thoughts, which are kind of my forte, something I've honed from years of living with teen-agers and even more years of having to teach them. So now I am free, free to possibly write about what I really think.

I think I'm hungry. It's way past lunch.

Random Thing # 6

6. I sometimes get blamed for having nothing but random thoughts.

Random Thing # 5

5. I sometimes have trouble coming up with random thoughts.

In Technicolor

We're off the see the Joseph, the wonderful one with the coat, the one that has red and yellow and green and brown and scarlet and black and ochre and peach and ruby and olive and violet and fawn and lilac and mauve and chocolate and gold and cream and crimson and silver and rose and azure and lemon and russet and grey and purple and white and pink and orange and blue.

We're going this week because we know the "fill-in" Joseph.

We would have tried to go sometime anyways, but this was added incentive. We love the play. When you read the original in Genesis, you might think it would be impossible to tell it better. But Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber just might have done that.

I've seen the play in person numerous times and the DVD almost as many. I highly recommend it, even if you can't stomach Donny Osmond.

Is this what daughters are for?

My wife and I were sitting around talking with our daughter and her friend this evening. I could tell she was bored, but she was being polite. The conversation was not about guys or makeup or hair styles, but rather boring stuff like older people, you know, her parents and such.

So I told her that I was sorry for boring her to death, and then thanked her for being courteous and polite. I went on to tell her that it was a great time "chillin'" with her and her friend and that I too was tired of hanging around old farts.

Ever the one with a quick and sassy comeback, she says "Is that why you make so many new ones?"

Isn't that great? She gave me a reason to blog today.

Random Thing # 4 (with a Valentine's Day spin)

I thought I’d put a Valentine’s Day slant on today’s entry. My past Valentine’s Day blogs gave me the opportunity to show off my lack of poetic ability. But this year I will save myself any further embarrassment and will save any possible readers from having to grimace.

# 4. I met my wife on the glossy pages of a magazine.

But that’s not the whole story.

The rest of that story is that Suzi and I, both non-Baptists, were chosen by a Baptist publication to each write a one page article. The pages that these articles appeared on were back to back in the magazine, cheek to cheek so to speak (no rhyme intended).

This was before we ever dated. We knew of each other, and kinda, sorta knew each other, but we were somehow put in that very friendly, "compromising" position by some unknown editor.

Nowadays, we’re usually facing the other way, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes, holding each other tight. (How’s that for a mushy story? But it’s true.)

Happy Valentine’s Day, honey. And if you don’t read this until months later, happy belated Valentine’s Day.

I Have NOT been Tagged

My wife was tagged to list seven random things about herself. She complied. I thought I should beat her to the punch in case she ever finds out that I’m once again blogging. I know she would want to reach out and tag me, seeing that she is constantly poking me in facebook.

So here goes. Seven random things, things that will probably surprise those who don’t know me that well.

1. I’m now taking an improv class at a local high school Monday nights. It’s pretty wild.
2. I lettered in high school. Not in baseball, not in football, but in debate.
3. I was murdered once, when I was the lead in a one act play in college--”The Claw.”

Well, that’s enough excitement for today.

Gooooooogle Again!

They continue to surprise me. I was looking for an address this afternoon. I went to click on satellite view and found something new to me--a button labeled "street view." Of course I had to click it on. And low and behold, there in living color was a view from street level, allowing one to look up and down a street or over at the houses or businesses on the block. Coooooool.

What will gooooooogle do next?

Happy Birthday Abe!

It's now Fat Tuesday plus one week. It's also Abraham Lincoln's birthday.

Because of our government's decision a few decades back, we can now give Clinton and old "W" equal billing with Abe and celebrate President's Day next Monday. An early happy birthday to all.

Unable to comment on my wife's blog

I actually read my wife's blog today, and caught up on reading what she's been up to for the last three weeks or so. However, since I'm blogging incognito, I'm unable to comment on her blog, lest she suspect that I'm blogging again.

So here is my comment. The swamp story???!!!???!!!

My iPod holds approximately 10,000 songs or one of my wife's retelling of her swamp story. (Sorry Steven Wright. I stole that joke from his recent CD, "I Still Have a Pony," which I got Saturday with my Christmas gift card from Best Buy.)

Steven Wright still has his edge. It's worth a listen.

Declining Social Status

Facebook is fun, sort of. I don’t have time to go into how it all started for me, (maybe some other time when I’m not enthralled in a tough head-to-head battle of Scrabulous.) But following is the real rub.

Facebook, as almost everyone knows by now, is a social networking site. It’s a great way to connect or reconnect with people from all over the world, helping to make this planet even more “flat.” One way this is done on facebook is through the countless number of applications. Some are useful, helpful, interesting, or fun. Others are downright stupid and annoying. I won’t say which category this applications falls into, but this one ranks people. I think it’s called “Compare People.” I don’t know how I got included in this app, but somehow I get notices on a regular basis on how I stack up against those on my friends list.

This morning’s notice let me know that my status has slipped. I am no longer ranked as high as I was. Others among my group of friends are now considered better than me. I have dropped a full 13 places. Ouch. How will my ego deal with this?

The category in question?? “Two left feet Tim” has fallen from #13 to #26 in the category of best dancer. This should probably make all my Baptist friends ecstatic. On the positive side, it will probably help if my wife ever asks me again about square dancing. And I suppose it’s not a bad thing to happen during Lent.

Idea # 2

Grateful for the Game I'm in.

comment: probably not the strongest memoir, because of the four two- & three-letter words.

P.S. This is kinda cool--writing undercover. The Warden has no idea I'm doing this.

Possible Epitaph

Building bridges by boldly embracing paradoxes.

I Can Summarize my Life in Six Words or Less

This morning we listened to my son’s iPod. He has an extremely wide repertoire of great songs, and he always comes up with a great mix for us. But by 1 p.m. I needed some talk. I needed some Mischke. (Tommy Mischke, for the uninformed, hosts a show from noon to 2 and is easily the funniest guy on radio.) Mischke was his usual self today, having us alternately grinning and chuckling out loud.

At work with my son and I this week is a friend from Moldova. He moved here about four years ago and is proficient in all phases of construction, drywall included. His English, however, is still in its infancy. He probably didn’t catch much of what Tommy was talking about, but his comment was enlightening. After listening for about a half hour, he said “that man is very happy.” He didn’t say funny, but rather happy. Funny is usually the label that Mischke gets tagged with, but I like happy. Happy is usually how I feel after listening to him.

He had us laughing at lots of things today, but the item that stuck with me wasn’t a laugh out loud funny one. Rather it concerned summarizing one’s life. He talked about a magazine, Smith magazine and a book that they publish, which includes “six-word memoirs by Writers Famous & Obscure.” The topic was intriguing. Supposedly the impetus for this book was a challenge once given to Ernest Hemmingway, the master of pithy sentences.

Ernie was challenged by a guy in a bar to write a short story in six words. He took the bet and responded to the guy with these six words.
For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

Those simple six words quickly conjure up some pretty strong feelings, emotions, and pictures in the old mind.

Anyways, back to the book, it has almost 1,000 six-word memoirs. And their website allows folks to add their own to the mix. So I’ve been thinking. But I think it’s still too soon for me to come up with something worthy of putting on paper.

So for now I’ll leave it merely as a challenge for myself and for those who read these words.

Blogging For Lent

It should be too early for Ash Wednesday. It’s only the first week in February. The snow is piled deep and the winds are still cold. Cool is still weeks away.

But it’s here. That holy day that falls furthest from the weekend.

It got me thinking--about lent and self-denial and self-discipline and self-sacrifice. I never checked in anywhere to get my ashes, but lent is still here, ready or not. Am I ready? Do I still play along? Should I self-examine and find something from which to abstain?

Since I don’t consider coffee a bad habit, and fast food red meat is never a temptation, what is a good old Midwestern boy supposed to do?

After some sole searching (by myself that is), I figured that I would give a run at abstaining from my blogging abstinence. Forty days during the height of the infamous American tax season, that time of year when I personally moonlight and ignore my wife, might not be an optimal time to attempt such a feat. But who knows, miracles do happen.

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.

Let it Snow, let it snow, let it snoooooooo

As the snow continues to pile up back home in Minnesnowta, I figured it was best to stay put and reminisce about our week gone by. We saw lots of friendly faces and ate lots of tempting dishes and did lots of relaxating (it is a word in my personal dictionary.) So in an attempt to put off shoveling, I will post some highlights of this past week.
















climbing the mountain together

the beauty of a cave (Lost Sea Cave in TN)

look what we found 50 feet under

the back porch 

guarding her drink 

more music for Mark 

abandoning her bone for a chance at stardom 

a happy birthday for Christina and Roger (not pictured) 

I love pictures, cheeeeeze 

always the cutie 

 

Have a wiff of this new poo 

Stuck Home on NYE

 

I WAS Dreaming of a Green New Year's

I’m dreaming of a green New Year’s,
Just like the ones they have down south,
With snow plows inactive,
Bare trees unattractive,
And no scarf to cover my mouth.

I’m dreaming of a green New Year’s,
With every word I sit and write,
Out my window is a sight,
That makes me wonder if it’s right?

I’m dreaming of a green New Year’s,
Am I really home or still in Tennessee?
With sidewalks not slippery,
And winds not even blistery,
I thought white was a January guarantee.

I’m still dreaming of a green New Year’s,
Am I awake or still asleep?
Oh!-- now wait just a minute,
The white stuff just won’t quit it,
And my dreams are causing me to weep.

I’m now experiencing a white New Year’s,
The flakes are falling to and fro,
Getting bigger by the minute,
A shovel, I’ll have to get it,
So much for dreams, here comes the snow.

Blogging by Phone

I've had this ability to blog by phone since March, but I've never taken advantage of this blessing (or curse) of technology.

Why? I don't know yet. But I did it, so now I can put my energies into finding out why.

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.

Another Upcoming Milestone

Come Wednesday, I will have completed one whole month without blogging. Or should that be Tuesday? I get so confused.

And now come to think of it, has this announcement messed up my month-long span? Drats.

I'll have to try harder next month.

And since I'm typing away, too late at night with too little sleep and no sign of Santa anywhere out my window (neither XP or whatever that new one is called), I should wish all of those who still visit this site a very merry and happy and blessed Christmas.

Another Milestone

The woman who washes my underwear (and yes dries it too, but doesn’t iron it) has embarked upon her 50th year with this planet. She’s a faithful sort with a heart of gold. So as she travels through life she touches many lives, leaving them happier, healthier, and more whole. It has been my good fortune to have her presence touch my life more often than most. It sounds like this has been a happy day for her so far. And if time permits I might have the chance to make it ever happier. I might, I may, with rapt attention actually read her blog this very day. Sounds like a good investment of my time.Happy birthday, honey!