Have the tables been turned?

The fact that I am blogging more frequently than my wife does not seem right. For many years it has been her obsession. But her focus of late has turned to Scrabulous, the Scrabble-like application on facebook. She has many games going at once, and usually a few simultaneous ones against me. She continues to think that she might someday dethrone me as king. (Fat chance.) I try to be civil, but I just can’t keep my competitive nature in check. I continue to bury her, but I don’t feel guilty yet.

Maybe the loving thing to do is to continue to provide for her a high standard of play, to stretch her as a wordsmith and person. Yeah, that sounds believable (especially at this late hour.)

But as far as providing a good model in the blogging realm, she will have to look elsewhere.

Not quite what I had planned

I’m currently reading a book by the above title, NQWIHP. This could also be an apt description of my evening.

I won’t give any details, but the discussions of my evening covered the issues of Chinese bear bile harvesting, a more humane way of processing mass quantities of chickens, adoption stories, and midlife. None of the issues was necessarily uplifting.

So maybe my immediate blogging time now will usher in a more tranquil stage of the evening.

My pillow is calling.

Great Idea

I was thinking.

Today is the beginning of Great Lent, a holiday observed by the Eastern Orthodox Church. It always begins on a Monday and includes strict abstinence from meat, dairy products, wine, and olive oil. (How’s that for harsh?)

No cheese, no Dairy Queen, no butter. . . Now I’ve lost my train of thought. Bummer. I guess thinking about no ice cream and no milk on my cereal sent my mind elsewhere.

I did have a point though. Seriously. Please believe me. But it has completely vanished, like the hair on my head. Lost in space, before it ever made it to cyberspace. I'm so sorry.

So please accept my deepest apologies for wasting your time. I’ll try to not do that again.

Larry Part VI

It's easy to listen to sincere. And I think sincerity helps make things timeless.

The Road out of Lameness

Aaahh the joys of blogging in

(insert seven hour break)

the morning!

But actually I only wrote two thirds of that previous sentence in the morning, and now it’s already night and I’m trying to carve out a few seconds to write.

And now I’m listening to Prairie Home Companion and typing. I’m trying to blog about something of significance, but Garrison is telling jokes and talking about flatulence. What could be more engaging? How do you expect me to concentrate?

Why did God make farts smelly? It’s so deaf people could enjoy them too.

How can I compete with that?

I wanted to write more about Larry Norman. I’m not that sad about his passing (maybe because I’ve been expecting it so long), but I’ve spent much time remembering. I’ve played and replayed his songs as I’m rushing from job to job. Strolling down memory lane without the time to say much about it.

Well, I managed more than a single sentence, but the road completely out of lameness still eludes me. I’ll set the alarm earlier tomorrow.

Ooooops

definitely heading in the wrong direction

Lame, Lamer, Lamest

Is it really possible to follow a lame blog post with one even lamer?

G.W. or G.C. or G.L.

I'm tired of stuff freezing in my truck.

Primary Blog

The fact that I'm blogging means that I'm not watching primary results. What better reason to be blogging? (Actually I did just peak.)

It seems that the Texas race is too close to call.

But all I have to say is that it saddens me that MY favorite color has been co-opted by a political party. And who's decision was it to standardize the color allocation? And what role did the public have in this decision. Talk about a lack of political process, this stinks. Talk about taxation of my eyeballs without representation. I want my color back.

We Will Miss You Paul

We received word today that our pastor announced his resignation on Sunday. We were being heathens on Sunday morning, so we didn’t receive the news first hand. I’m personally very saddened that Paul will no longer be pastoring the Well. But I’m hopeful that God will follow-up with good things for Paul, his family, and the congregation.

A book a week, that’s all we ask

This is not the time of year that I should be reading books, or blogging for that matter.

But I did. And I’m glad. So I confess. Real good book. Real fast read. Easy to relate. So I write.

After church last Sunday night someone came out with a bag full of a soon-to-be-released book. I saw a flock of people swarm toward the bag, especially since the price of “free” was announced. I wasn’t one of the flock, knowing I was too busy to read a book now. So I stayed put. But just before we left I walked by the bag and took a peek inside--one solitary copy left.


Should I or shouldn’t I? That was the question.

I did. I started reading Tony Jones’ New Christians: Dispatches from the Emergent Frontier when I got home. Immediately I was hooked. In many ways, it was my story. I’m almost 10 years older than the author, but his journey took him to and through many of the same places and thoughts. So I could relate. I finished the book this evening. I hope to have more to say on it soon, before I forget what I read

Sorry to tease, but it’s getting late.

Why Should the Devil?

Thanks to Dave for the link to Paste Magazine. Paste columnist Andy Whitman wrote an insightful and honest article on Larry Norman, his life, and legacy. It’s worth the read.

My experience mirrors those of many who have commented on Norman’s impact this past week. My first Norman album was Only Visiting This Planet and I literally wore the groves out on that piece of vinyl. From the first listen through it grabbed me. And it never let me go. It became my anthem, my mission, my passion, my canon. Those were the words I sought to live by. They became deeply etched in my heart and mind. I could use them as an excuse for who or what I am today.

His music led me to many other artists over the years, but his words were the ones that stayed fresh. Even as my theology continued to evolve through the college years, and I questioned some of the presumptions that undergirded his work, I still listened and appreciated.

I got to see him numerous times in concert. And whereas his studio sessions had the edginess apparent in his lyrics, the live performances especially brought forth his playfulness. He would make it enjoyable (or at least palatable) to be challenged to the core of your being.

Leap Day

I only have 19 minutes to come up with a blog for today.

The pressure is on! Any suggestions? Hurry up and post them as comments. I need something to write about. Anything. I need to fill this space.

Now we're down to 18 minutes. This month of February is fading fast.

Oh!!!! How could I forget. Today is my son's birthday, the one who has found the secret of eternal youth. He is 5 today.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARK. WE ALL LOVE YOU LOTS.

Watching His Jaw Drop

It’s not too often that I get to see my younger son’s jaw drop. Yesterday was such a day. We were working together listening to a local Minnesota Public Radio station “The Current.” They are a station that does a great job staying ‘current’ and playing a wide range of musical expressions throughout each day. The key to the station is its variety.

After playing a tune from one of my son’s favorite bands, Modest Mouse, the DJ went on to say that this band was in the studio with Larry Norman just prior to Norman’s recent death. (Of course, I already knew this, having done some reading about Norman’s passing.)

My son, however, was in utter shock that this uber-hip band would rub shoulders with some old long hair that sang a lot about Jesus. My son had the opportunity to see Norman in concert a few years earlier at Cornerstone (because I made him go,) and I think he was impressed even though Norman could barely move at the time. (His band was tight.)

Those two musical names just didn’t seem to fit together, and the fact that this station (which is THE station "informed, relevant" college-aged kids are “supposed to” listen to) would report on this collaboration caused his face to contort.

It was fun to see.

And there is probably some point to be made in this story, but I’m still claiming sickness. So figure it out yourself. (With a smile.)

SMILE Larry!

SICK

Sick of sick.

Sick

It seems that everyone I know is sick, except for me. Make that including me.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I've Been Outted

Well, anonymity is now past. The Warden, my wife, has once again found my blog. Let's see, how long did that take?

Good Bye Larry

I had planned to blog about the Oscars today, but some news has changed that. I heard this afternoon that Larry Norman died yesterday. I hope to have time to write a little more than I can right now about his influence on my life.

But for now I rush off from work to class and don't have the time to adequately say what I'd like to say.

Can I Make it a Full Forty Day?

Is it really true that Sundays are not counted in Lent?

If that's so, then I really shouldn't have to blog today. Right??????

Well, I guess it's in the Western Church that Sundays are not counted. If I were Byzantine then Sundays would be counted. And other things would change too, like the start date and the finish date.

As you might be able to tell, I'm falling asleep at the computer right now. I hope this is making sense. I've got a cold, my nose is running, and I better put into practice a Sabbath rest.

Adaptation

Twenty is feeling warm again. Fahrenheit, that is. Twenty notches on the Celsius scale is always warm.

Minus twenty is a great reality check. It sort of re-calibrates your senses. It lets you know how vulnerable you are without the proper shell.

The brightness of the winter sun also shatters any phoniness. As I stare at the MacBook screen before me, the strong sunlight through the south window bounces back the image of my slightly silhouetted head. This reflection, which is superimposed on my laptop, reveals the imperfections of my right side, the crevices and lines and day-old stubble.

And so I adjust to the warmer air, the maturity showing through my face, and the quiet in the room, which allows me to hear the subtle tic tic tic from the clock on the wall.

Time for Pie

My daughter is taking Greek during her final semester of high school. To help her get a head start, I dusted off my old books (and even older mind) and taught her the alphabet, Alpha through Omega.

After the first day of class my daughter came home to tell me that I taught her the wrong pronunciation of several letters, including the letter most like our letter “P.” I taught her to pronounce it “pee,” while her teacher taught her to pronounce it “pie.”

I told her that I was quite sure I was right, but I would do some research on the issue. I proceeded to get online and visit numerous websites and came to the conclusion that although “pie” is the preferred pronunciation in math and science, “pee” is the preferred pronunciation in literature and theology. So I felt confident that I was correct and told her as much.

She took this information with her to the next Greek class, and because she loves to argue, argued with the teacher until he gave her the ultimatum: in this class we will only use the pronunciation “pie,” because that is the correct one. Because of his firm stance I started to question myself, maybe I did learn it wrong. So I checked with a handful of friends that have studied classical or koine Greek. Same result, “Pee” it is.

I passed this along to my daughter, but told her to be respectful, and use whatever pronunciation your teacher prefers.

A week later she was in Greek class and felt the urge to use the ladies’ room. She raised her hand and said, “Teacher, I need to go pie.” Taken back he said, “What?” She said, “I didn’t think we were allowed to say ‘pee’ in this class.” She was promptly kicked out of class for the day.

Visitors from the East

Disclaimer: The Above Image is a Fictional Representation of the types of people which actually come from the East. This in no way represents the actual fine folks who visited our home.


I face a moral dilemma this evening. Can I justify blogging when our home is host to two visitors from the East (not that far east, but east nonetheless.) (Actually if you force it out of me, they’re Cheeseheads, next-door-neighbors, long-time rivals.)

No. . . . .

(But I might try to come up with a justication as the evening passes.)

Apologies to My Fellow Minnesotans

Like millions of my neighbors and comrades, I awoke this morning to actual temps nearing minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit. With the winds factored in it is downright scary out there. My nose hairs froze before I could reach my cold work van. I dressed in my best painter’s pants again today, planning to apply drywall compound at many different locations. I thought I would once again drive my big cube van around this fair city burning my share of fossil fuels today.

However. (Kind of becoming the story or theme of this blog.)

I decided to stop in at my mother’s accounting office first this morning, and put in an hour of so of work. NOT. I’m still here--seven hours later, crunching the numbers.

The reason for my apology? I have not done my fair share of trying to warm up this ice box. (International Falls might be the official ice box of the nation, but we’re not too far behind here.) So, I’m sitting here inside. . . Parked in the driveway is an idled V-8 engine that could easily have burned up 10 gallons of gas today.

So friends, Minnesotans, countrymen, get in your cars. We need to bury winter, lest we get further buried. In my place I ask that you acquire that fuel while you can and burn baby burn.

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)