Pit Bull Pity

I've never felt badly for a Pit Bull before. But I kind of do now. I suppose he was only looking for a warm place to hole-up for a bit. Catch a nap. Feel warm. Comfortable. Safe. And now here he is. Trapped. The very thing that was intended to get him someplace became the object that tied him down.

Isn't that just like life?

How many times have you had grand plans only to find out that the tools that were suppose to help you achieve those plans had become the very things that kept you from them? I think God must feel that way sometimes. He loves us so much. It is nearly unbelievable what He went through to call us "His." He gave His Son. I mean, you mess with one of my son's and you are messing with me. You hurt my daughter and you are going to find me all over you. But God voluntarily gave up His Son to purchase us back from the wrongs we had willingly chosen. Amazing.

And then He sets us up and gives us directions to win the world. He tells us how to do it. Listen to the directions given to us by His Spirit. Don't get caught up in ourselves. Serve Jesus at the expense of anything that gets in the way. And we set up our systems to make it happen. And those plans work. For a while. Then they stop working. But we won't give them up. They become more important to us than the mission God has assigned.

And we find ourselves trapped motionless in the very "vehicles" that were meant to propel us on our journey of obedience. We get so attached to the vehicle that when they break down and keep us from going where we were told to go, we would rather sit in them, motionless, than to fix them. It would be so simple. Run some new wires. Change a spark plug or two. Then run the mission.

Nope. I like things just like they are. I love these wires. We started off together. We'll finish together. These spark plugs? My spark plugs. Leave them alone. I prefer to sit right here, trapped in my own engine. Accomplishing nothing.

Poor dog.

The Score

-Six days.
-One thousand six hundred seventy nine miles
-Seven hundred sixteen million, three hundred and seventy three thousand, three hundred and thirty four white lines. (Based upon six foot lines and six foot spaces between each line. A mere guess on my part.)
-Twenty three confirmed mosquito bites.
-Zero "Sand Dollars" found by me.
-Untold hundreds of "Sand Dollars" found by everyone else.
-Four new cases of "Tahitian Treat." (Piggly Wiggly rocks!)
-One repaired tooth.
-One bottle of Tylenol (24 count.)
-One replaced cell phone.
-35.9 miles per gallon.
-One aircraft carrier. (Vintage and retired.)
-One cruise ship. (Viewed. Not cruised.)
-A new appreciation for the north.
-One happily married couple.

I stole this from Joe (Deal with it)

Who can you carry today?

God ... only a tractor pull away

Annnnnnd another happily married couple have been added to my ever growing list of joy-filled customers. Uh. I mean friends. sorry.

Dani and David became Mr. & Mrs. yesterday at precisely 6:38 PM EDT. It was wild! The wedding was held on a semi-boardwalk/semi-gazebo on the forever shores of the Atlantic Ocean. At high tide. With the wind blowing in. Dani was her usual stunning self. Her husband, David, was dashing to say the least. And a great party-time was had by all, despite mammoth suicidal mosquitoes diving bombing us from the black reaches of the Atlantic. Seriously. I think a wind blew them in from one of the middle-eastern countries that is mad at us. At least they weren't locusts.

But what's with the tide? I mean, really. What is WITH the tide? I live in the Midwest, remember? And Lake Erie, while it might have a rather dynamic "bathtub effect" during a strong westerly wind, there ain't nothing like a tide.

We began Saturday with a big beach. I know it was big. I walked it. No, it was not as wide as it was long. That would have been a bit of a stretch seeing as how it's length is like from Florida to Maine if you don't count foreign countries. And I don't. But it was seriously wide. It looked like this...

So the tide was "out." There was room for football, volleyball, and probably a decent sized tractor pull. But the next day when it was time for the wedding ... well, it looked like this ...

True, you can barely see the ocean in this picture but it's that blue thing out beyond the groom and I. Out beyond the wood. What you can't see is that Bob and his daughter, Dani, were walking the two feet that were left of the beach in order to get to the altar. I actually thought Bob was going to have to piggy-back the bride to get her up there. Fortunately, he is the creative type and he avoided that indignity.

I don't think I want to live by the tide.

Except. Well. Come to think of it ... I think I do. Because I've spent a lot of time thinking and driving today. The Isle of Palms is a serious piece of concrete highway from Cleveland. And while I was using my brain it occurred to me that "my version" of the tide has nothing to do with water. It has everything to do with God. Sometimes He seems to close. I am pretty sure I'll trip over Him every time I turn around. Now I know that God is always there. I mean "here." Where ever I am. Where ever you are. There is God, right there loving on us. But then "the tide" goes out. And I'm all like ... "where'd He go? He was here just a minute ago? Suddenly ... no God."

It's an illusion. I know it's an illusion. My feet are always "wet in God." But I must admit, some days it seems like there is room for a tractor pull between us. And those tractor's are so loud I couldn't hear a thing He was saying even if I did recognize His presence. But it's an illusion. An illusion that I really hate.

So there you have it. I drive 1,700 miles round-trip and I walk away with a new picture of God. Does the picture help me to understand my situation in life? Yes, I think it does. As long as I remember ... the ocean's tide is real. God's tide ... an illusion. Only an illusion.

I still have 400 miles to drive tomorrow. I think I'll concentrate on sand for awhile and see what I learn from it. You know. Sand. It looks like this ...

My father-in-law is cooler than your father-in-law

This is my father-in-law and his latest toy. He's my hero!

Dale and Billy

Tonight Debbie and I find ourselves in Charlotte, North Carolina. We are on the way to the wedding of a verrrrry long time family friend. (Hi Dani!) I will be performing her nuptials on the beach on Isle of Palms, S.C. this Sunday evening. Any way you cut it that's a cool name. "Isle of Palms." Unfortunately, I left mine at home. I brought my wrists but totally forgot my palms. Come to think of it, my phone doubles as a "Palm."

Which brings me to an entirely different and immensely painful story.

In the last 24 hours I've broken a tooth and a cell phone. Both of them got fixed this morning. One by the dentist (God bless him) and one by a Sprint manager that swapped my phone out for a new one. (They've had to do that 5 times in the last 11 months. They finally wised up and gave me a different model.) Anyway, the cell phone (aka: Palm) doesn't hurt tonight. Can't say the same for the tooth.

And then there is North Carolina. I've already learned that there are two things that you don't do in Charlotte. You don't speak unkindly of Dale Earnhart or Billy Graham. In that order. The fashion in which I learned this will go with me to my grave.

I also learned that as soon as you cross the state line into West Virginia you start craving chewing tobacco. Never mind that I've never chewed tobacco in my life. I still had a hankering for it. (Ha! I said "hankering!") I didn't try any. I did spit a few times though. You know, just to get the general feel. It wasn't altogether unpleasant. Well, unless you were driving in the car behind me.

Speaking of driving. Generally, "Sophie the GPS" lies. Not too long ago she told me to make a u-turn on an expressway exit ramp. I thought this a bad idea. Sophie and I have a love/hate relationship. Tonight she wanted me to get off of the expressway 25 miles before we got to our hotel ... which is ON (actually, beside) the expressway. I thought that folly. Then she told me that there was a huge traffic jam a few miles ahead. I laughed at her silliness. I passed right by two exits when she told me to get off and save myself from jam-dom. We were out in the country, for crying out loud.

And then traffic stopped. I didn't say, "And then traffic slowed down." I said, "And then traffic stopped." And it sat there for 31 minutes before it started to move. That's exactly how long Sophie told me the jam was lasting. Tomorrow if Sophie tells me to take a left into the ocean I will be taking a left into the ocean. If she tells me to cash in my retirement and invest in egg salad, I will cash in my retirement and invest in egg salad. (Did I mention that egg salad is the only thing I can eat because I have this tooth ache?)

Sophie rules. (Right after Dale and Billy.)

Melanie, Burger Queen of Planet Earth

I have this friend that I love dearly. Her name is Melanie. She was in my youth group years ago. Since then she's grown up, gotten married, become a teacher and a mom. And now ... She is my very own burger expert! Hey, everybody needs one. I just received the following e-mail from her. It must be shared with the world (that would be you.) I love a good burger, but Mel? Mel is P-A-S-S-I-O-N-A-T-E about one! Read and see...

Ron,

I have been a hamburger connoisseur my entire life. When my family and I would make the occasional trip out to eat I would always order a hamburger. I used to cry at Chinese food places because I knew they did not have hamburgers. (Plus I was scared of eating my neighbor's cat) Cracker Barrel brought tears too because they served their burgers on sour dough bread. After many hamburgers and lots of extra body weight my parents started to limit my hamburger fetish. However, this forced me to become a connoisseur of only the best burgers. Due to these facts and my experience as a Language Arts teacher I was challenged by your blog to compare and contrast the hamburger eating experiences of the famous Texas Whataburger and your loved Five Guys Burgers.

First I will start with the overall experience at both restaurants. Whataburger is my first to rate. I lived in Texas for almost ten years. I had heard about Whataburger from my readings of Beverly Cleary's Ramona Quimby series during elementary school. I recall that Ramona Quimby was also enamored with the famous Whataburger. Naturally when I moved to Texas one of my first ambitions was to try the Whataburger. The commercials are also a draw for Texans. I would say anyone who has ever lived in Texas has had a Whataburger experience.

The Whataburger restaurant is not much different than any other fast food joint. It does feel like a blast from the past due to the orange and white simple decor. One may choose to go through the drive-thru or eat inside the restaurant. If you eat inside the restaurant the only different experience you will find with this fast food joint is they bring your food to your table. This can be a plus if you have small children to jostle around. The food is cooked to order. Just the way you like it, fresh, and warm. The burgers are flat and large in diameter. The fries are thin and salty. It is evident the patties and fries are packaged. I envision someone taking them out of the freezer and dropping them on the grill or in the grease pit to cook. The closest comparison I have come to a Whataburger is the Sonic hamburger and fries. In fact since moving to Tennessee I have been forced to eat the Sonic Bacon cheeseburgers and fries when I crave one from Whataburger. I have been told there may be WiFi in the restaurant. I did not personally experience this myself during my time in Texas. (Which was quite recent)

Five Guys Burgers in Murfreesboro, TN is a much different experience than most fast food burger joints. It is not your typical fast food hamburger. I would designate it as a burger that is fast. There is a difference. At Five Guys you get to fill your empty belly with peanuts while you wait on your hamburger. All the while you are listening to the employees joyfully shouting out the orders and commenting on them. It is pretty loud in the place due to the employees. They are obviously required to look happy about their jobs. It makes the place a little fun to hang out. The burger appears and tastes to be from real hamburger meat. It is cooked to your liking on the grill while you watch at a distance. The fries are thick and very tasty. They are not your typical fast food fry. You may order regular or Cajun seasoned fries. The hamburger is thicker than most fast food burgers. I had to open my mouth pretty wide to get a good bite. It's a good thing I don't suffer from TMJ.

Whataburger and Five Guys both provide their customers with made to order hamburgers. The burgers are fresh and warm for the customers. The food is provided quickly to the customers. Both restaurants are centered around customer satisfaction. Each provides its own unique dining experience to appeal to the customers. Both are well-respected in their territories.

The Whataburger hamburger is larger in diameter than the Five Guys burger. The Whataburger hamburger is flat and appears to be processed. The Five Guys hamburger meat appears and tastes to be fresh ground beef. It is much thicker than the Whataburger hamburger. The toppings on the Five Guys burgers appear to be fresher than the Whataburger toppings. The fries at Whataburger are not as tasty as the fresh cut, thick, seasoned fries at Five Guys. The drink selection at Five Guys was much more varied than any fast food restaurant I have seen thus far. This impressed me. I did miss the Whataburger experience of someone bringing my food to the table for me. It was a little inconvenient at Five Guys to have my husband wait around for the grub while I entertained the toddler. However, not inconvenient enough to keep me from returning to Five Guys.

Overall I would say we enjoyed our experience at Five Guys better than that of Whataburger. My husband says he was never that impressed with Whataburger. According to him there was nothing special about it. As far as Five Guys Burgers I quote, " The burger at Five Guys is a man's burger." If you want a real hamburger with great fries go to Five Guys Burgers. If you just want a filling, made to order, fresh, fast food hamburger go to Whataburger.

Your burger buddy,

Mel

Ohio -- Keeping the fish sober for over a century

The move from Illinois to Ohio has required me to make some adjustments in life. A new drivers license. Registration to vote in a new state. The maddening search for the perfect local pizza. Along the way I have made a few discoveries. You just never know what will turn up when you start looking in the great book of rules and regulations. For instance ...

In Ohio it is illegal to get a fish drunk. Seriously? Was this a problem? Were they driving while intoxicated?

In Ohio it is illegal to hunt whales on Sundays. The huge whale population of Lake Erie sleeps well on weekends, I am certain. This also explains why Captain Ahab keeps sailing back and forth off my balcony every Monday through Friday.

In Ohio it is illegal to sell beer while dressed in a Santa Claus suit. I do not know if this applies to the real Santa or just poser's.

There is more but I doubt that you can stand it. The shock effect of these three facts all by themselves will have the blog-o-sphere rumbling for weeks. Then again. Is it possible the the fish were drunk because they bought beer from Santa and then ganged up on the whales?

Hey. Sounds plausible to me.

My daughter loves me

My daughter wrote a very special blog tonight. I hope you will take the time to read it. She is an amazing woman and a unsurpassable daughter.

Click this for a link to Kelli's blog...

How to spend an evening with Debbie out of town

-Practice inflating and deflating your "Sleep Number Bed."
-Try to eat exactly 37 grams of fat for dinner.
-Vacuum with the dust buster. Again.
-Throw semi-rotten oranges down the trash compactor chute ... one at a time.
-Find a good book, a comfortable chair, and then remember that you need to clean the toilet.
-Drive all of "Broadway" in NYC on googles "street level" maps.
-Text message "thank you" to everybody you know and see how many respond.
-Blog. Then blog again.

As a hush falls over the internet

I have 28 blogs in my RSS feed. Nobody has blogged today. That never happens. Not counting the ever present spam I've gotten two emails. Two. And one of those was a "forward." It was sunny and then it rained. Then it got sunny. Now it's raining. At least gas went up ten cents per gallon. God bless the oil companies. At least somebody did "the expected" today.

I ... am my hero!

Note to Bella:

I did it. Me. I flexed my muscles, focused my energies, and manned-up. 35 inches of glory. Out of the Mustang, through the garage, the hallways, up NINE stories. Down the hall. Through the door. Onto the amazingly strong "Sterilite" containers. Plugged in. Turned on. Positively glowing. 35 diagonal inches of pure bliss.

AND IT'S RIGHT-SIDE UP!

Please ... I am a mere human. Do not worship me.

(I would like to thank all of those who made this moment possible. Ethan Ferguson for helping me load the monster upside down in my garage. Couldn't have done it without ya. Laura "Bella" Rulo for cheering us on without laughing too frequently, and for riding with her knees scrunched up into her chin while we drove to Cannoli's. A big thanks to all of the traffic that stayed out of my way as I drove the 580 miles home on Saturday. A "Howdy and nice job" to the bottle of Tylenol I'm about to take. Oh, and a "Thanks so much" for the nurses in the nursing home that will be turning me every 2 hours to keep me from getting bed sores when I'm admitted early due to inability to lift anything ever again. And finally ... especially ... my wife Debbie cause, geez, that things on your side of the bed and I'm pretty sure you'll get a really nice tan from it which I will like. You all mean SO VERY MUCH.)

Television at 65 MPH

It's still there. The TV. It's still in the back of my car. Collecting dust. Causing raised eyebrows, no doubt. (sigh) It's a "cart issue." The apartment complex has carts for people to use on moving day. You know, just like hotels have when you check in or out. You can put stuff on the bottom (like mega-old-tube-TV's) and hang clothing from the bar across the top.

Problem is ... the carts are all booked-up. It's the end of the month and people that are going to move are doing so now. Sooooo... there she sits. All alone. Unplugged. 35 inches of television. If someone would just break into my car and steal her I could claim her on my insurance and invest the return on a hyper-cool new plasma. (Are they heavy too?) They come in a box and that's a whole lot easier to carry. And if they slashed the top of my Mustang to get at her I'd get a new convertible top too. Sweet! Insurance is wonderful when it works. (It's a rip-off when it doesn't.)

But you can't even count on thieves these days.

It's occurred to me that with a power ac/dc converter I could plug the thing in, let the top down on the car, put an antenna on the TV and cruise down I-90 watching Oprah. Of course I'd have to watch in the mirror. And even that wouldn't really work because the TV is still upside down. On the other hand I've seen Oprah a time or two and, in my humble opinion, most of her thinking is already upside down. So maybe she would come out right side up?

I'm putting way too much effort into figuring this out.

And so then I broke my finger...

I was putting a 31 inch television in the back of the wrong car today. It was my moms and isn't very old and I was moving it from just being stored into our apartment. I knew I should drive the Trail Blazer but, darn, it was so nice I wanted to drive the Mustang. Well the dumb TV that I was trying to put in the back seat of my car kind of ... flipped upside down just at the last second. I mean, I got it in the car but ... upside down. And the teenager that was helping me kind of dropped his end for a second. But that's all it took for it to crunch my pinky between the car and the 7,000 pound television. Okay, that's an exaggeration. It probably only weighs 6,500 pounds. Give or take.

It's all good though. I have lots of fingers. Nine more to go. Give me a week. I'll get 'em all done.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #20

It's finally here! We've reached the milestone of 20 "stupid pictures!" And remember ... only the stupidest of the stupid make the cut. There was some pretty dumb stuff that never saw the blog.

But here ya go. Would YOU eat at this place?

Hmmmm. Tastes like chicken.

Well, if you'd eat "hung lung" ... would you eat it if it were next door to this....????

Yeah. I thought that might do it.

It's Burger Time!

Relax, human race. After much investigating the ownership and offer of A FREE BURGER at the Avon, Ohio "Five Guys" has been proven by Dick Tracy to be 100% a-u-t-h-e-n-t-i-c! This is no hoax! I repeat ... no hoax!

It's burger time!

Oh ... and a special word to the wonderful young man who took our order a few days ago. About the "geek" comment ...I meant that as an abbreviation. It stands for "G"reatest "E"mployee "E"fficient &"K"ind. You did know that? Right?

After Further Reflection ...

It pays to "sleep on" everything.

After further reflection, a good nights rest, and the realization that I do have a handful of "Kamakazi friends" ... rest assured that I will be checking the authenticity of the comment left by the "owner" of "Five Guys" before claiming any "Thank-You" burger.

The Guys don't serve fish ... but something smells fishy here.

If one of you loyal readers is trying to "set-up" Old Uncle Ron ... I will track you down ... I will find you ... YOU WILL RUE THE DAY!

The motto du jour? "Thank everybody but only trust Jesus."

Uhhhh ... I'm so glad I blogged nice!

You just never know who is reading your blog! I just found this in my email box ...

"HEY RON!!!!
This is Maureen (one of the owners of Five Guys in Avon), and if you show your big beautiful mug in my store again I will buy your next burger!!! This may be the best, and most acurate blog I have ever seen on the internet. Thanks for the love. We love our customers!!! And honestly, our "counter geek" is pretty cool ;o) See ya soon, Maureen"

My first reaction? You absolutely KNOW I'll be heading back to Five Guys VERY soon for my free burger!!!!! I never realized that my "mug" was "big and beautiful" but if it gets me a free "Five Guys" burger ... you can call me anything you want, Maureen!

My second reaction? One of the "Five Guys" is a girl!!!! Hey ... works for me! Just keep the beef coming, Maureen!

Take THAT Wataburger!!!! Kristi ... Free burgers beats "wi-fi" everytime. :)

Sweet!

23 Amazing Years

My son's birthday just ended 26 minutes ago. But he lives in the central time zone and I'm writing in the eastern time zone and so it's still his birthday. I made it!

You see, 23 years ago today was a remarkable day. It is the day that God gave Debbie and I the gift of Christopher. No matter how you look at it, he is and has always been, one of my favorite people. I could tell you story after story after story. But I won't. (Okay, I will mention the time he had his friends duck tape him to a stop sign so that he could see what drivers would do when they saw him. As per his usual luck ... the first car approaching was a squad car. That's the kind of thing that makes me laugh WITH ... not at ... him.) But forget the stories. Christopher is no longer a kid.

Christopher is a man.

He is a full time working kind of guy. He is totally engaged to a stunningly beautiful young woman and, on October 11, I will pronounce them man and wife in Beaver Creek, Colorado. You see, Christopher (lovingly known around home as simply "topher" or "toph") never does the normal thing. And I think that a wedding in Beaver Creek is a total fit for the two of them. I couldn't be more excited!

I could tell you so much more about my son. But if you know him ... you already get it. He is one in one million.

Toph. I seriously doubt that you read my blogs. But it doesn't matter. I want the rest of the world to know that I love you ... and I would chisel it in granite to be recorded for the ages. Thank you for being my son. Thank you for making me laugh. I am so glad you came along.

23 years? It's been a great ride. I can't wait for the next 23 ...

(Okay, I have to mention the time he worked at a golf course. He was driving a golf cart, slammed into a coke machine on one of the tee boxes, moved it out of the way, and then ... ran over the golf pro. I kid you not. Other golfers came running and lifted the cart off of the poor guy. After some time in the hospital he was alright ... but I don't think Topher has picked up a golf club since. At least ... I hope not . How could you NOT love Topher!!!!)

An Update For Bethany H...

Bethany H (Hi, Bethany!) asked if we could have an update on how the "clicking" of the e-free link has increased this blogs "referral rate" to the e-free web site.

Well, Bethany, I'm afraid the news is not good. Joe tells me that we have a lot of work to do in order to make a dent in reaching #1. I asked "how much work is a lot of work?" He said ... TRIPLE what you are doing now.

So folks ... let's get to work! Click that link to "My Daughter Kelli's Church Website!" Then click it again! Then click it one more time! It's for a good cause! Uhhh .. no ... wait. It's for absolutely no cause whatsoever other than to say "We did it!" And isn't that what life's all about? Scaling the heights? Reaching the goal? BEING NUMBER ONE!

Or something like that.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see, Bethany. In the mean time ... click on, brothers and sisters! There's a mountain to climb! Joe obviously thinks it's a lost cause. Well Joe ... THIS CLICKS FOR YOU!

Burger Wars ... a side note

Okay, I just e-talked with Kristi. She never meant to declare "Burger Wars." Now I feel really badly about having gone off on her so harshly on my last blog. (But not badly enough to change it.) She was just being kind ... knowing how much I love a good burger ... and trying to bless me with burger conversation. Literally. You see, we were doing a "video chat" when all of this started. I guess Wataburger is wi-fi? (That would be a major point in favor of Wataburger.) I noticed her on and we video-chatted for half an hour or so at which time I totally lusted after her hamburger. I mean, come on! A cow died for your appetite! You've gotta show your gratefulness!

Kristi McGill ... I totally love you! You are one of my favorite people and the best kid in the youth group EEVVEERR!!


Kristi. My friend that I love a lot.

5 Guys Rule!

I was challenged to a "Hamburger Dual" by a great friend of mine, Kristi. Somehow she thinks that the Texas "Wataburger" is better than the east coast's (and Avon, Ohio's) "Five Guys." How silly! She blogged about it yesterday and I hereby accept her silly challenge. What do Texans know about burgers?!

So Kristi ... here's the proof. Game ... set ... BURGER.

This is how your trip to "Five Guys" begins...


Our first stop is the FREE peanuts! (You don't even have to order food! America is such a great country!)


The totally cool counter geek ...


Is forgiven once you meet the ultra competent cooking crew ...


Next we come to "The Brag Board" where people post their (always positive) opinions of The five Guys ...


And you find out THE EXACT TOWN where your french fried potato's were birthed ...


The burger doesn't look as big as a sissy "Wataburger" because my head is bigger than yours ...


And because it's nearly as thick as it is wide ...


Now it is time to eat ...


I could go on but I think you get the point...


This, my friends, is a burger to be reckoned with.

Today

Today I did laundry. 5 loads. I am a hero husband or a total wuss. Poles open at 6:00 AM. Vote early. Vote often.

Today I ate pizza. "Mama Santa's" from Cleveland's "Little Italy." It's awesome for Cleveland pizza. (We must all learn to adjust.) And then I purchased a picture of a young Frank Sinatra standing in a doorway. A sign over his head says, "Miguel Santos: Attorney --- Divorce your loved one with dignity." How can you NOT buy that? It is irony of the finest order! The sweet little ancient Italian woman that sold it to me asked if I am a lawyer. I told her that I was not. I am a pastor. She began making "Pffft. Pffft. Pffft." noises. I do not know what that means. I also find it slightly fascinating that the picture was purchased in Little Italy ... which is nearly as Italian as Rome ... and yet the picture frame is made of bamboo.

Today I watched "Juno." You know what happened. It made me severely miss being a youth pastor. I really had not missed it yet. But I wanted to sit down next to that kid (Juno) put my arm around her and tell her how her life can be better. I don't think you ever get over being able to help someone at that level.

Today I started to throw my $29.99 Timex wrist watch off our balcony. Ever since Scott "fixed" it for me it beeps every hour on the hour and the alarm goes off every time it is 3:40. I had all I could take, grabbed it and ran out the patio door ready to hurl it toward the lake. That's when I noticed I was getting the old "stink eye" again from ... someone who shall remain nameless. Tonight the watch is in the bottom of my sock drawer. It's just waiting ... waiting ... waiting.

Today I climbed the stairs to our apartment four times for a total of 36 floors. And that does not count going down.

As Calvin and Hobbs once said ... "The Days Are Just Packed...."

Primp My Bride

Look what followed me home! They had a $5.99 special down at "We Cut Hair" and I had them "Primp My Bride." I got myself a new cut too. Here she is ...




And here's my new look ...


She got more for her money.

"The Raven" Poorly Revisited 4 Years Later (With apologies to Edgar)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary
I did tend to faint from furious memories of ill-gotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
Sounding like some mouth gone yapping, yapping at my office door.
'Tis some member," I muttered, "yapping at my office door -
Only this, and who needs more?"

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak November,
And each angry griping member reviled curses at the door,
Eagerly I wished the morrow; -prayed and wept heart filled with sorrow
From the charges time would borrow - borrow for the lost pas-tor.
For the fallen miserable fellow to whom the chosen came to bellow-
Nameless here for evermore.

All our lives he has branded, all our efforts turned empty handed
And his failings no longer candid did press receive in print and pixel galore,
I am remiss in not dismissing - much the poorer for venom hissing
The action of the beggar failing - failing in a glory not seen before.
'Tis my empty heart yearning for a distant glory shore -
A shore of rest not known before.

And from four years a distant thought has once more my attention sought
Now dare I take it's lying hand and lead it once again into the fore
Neigh, I it turn back unrecognized, the pain that once antagonized
The every beat upon my office door - the clamor of a self-righteous bore.
It is an evil without parallel far surpassing the one who fell
And it screams for the blood of those it did once adore

I turn my back on evil barking that forever is loudly harking
Demanding pay for tragedy gone before
I cast my eyes unto the glory of the One Who wrote The Story
Who hung dying for the failure we deplore.
I recall the scream of "crucify him" in anxious attempt to finally try him
In hopes of sleep in innocence once more.

'Tis the evil inside each one ... our own Raven ... our smoking gun
But not this time, I will not listen, I'll turn the gloom to the suns sweet glisten
I'll look behind and look before me, twist the neck of that which tore me
And bid adieu from my distant shore
As I quote that Raven ... NEVER MORE.

Debbie's first blog

My husband drove me 42 miles for lunch and all I got was this lousy sammich.


Then he took me home and made me stand on the balcony during a tornado warning so I could see the lightening over the lake.

Just another risky day in the life of Debbie Woods ... housewife.

Politics for toddlers

"What IS John McCain doing?" Kelli ... if you don't blog it ... I will. The story must be told!

10 Items or less... (Part 2)

10 Items or less that are just wrong and should be dealt with appropriately ...

- Every human being is allowed a minimum of 18 inches of clear "air space" around them. Violate the space? You get sprayed with "Pam" so you can just sliiiiiiiiiiide away.
- Stand at the "Red Box" for more than 5 minutes and get towed. No, not your car. You.
- Random dreams. Not so good. Dreams should be like going to the movies. You look at the marquis of choices, make your selection, have your dream.
- Pepsi means Pepsi and Coke means Coke. No, Pepsi is not okay. I ordered Coke. You carry 50 kinds of wine why can't you carry 2 kinds of cola?
- Mr Policeman, if you are going to take my picture at stop lights I should be able to take your picture at donut shops.
- You want to "save a tree?" Stop telling me to recycle my gum wrapper and go after the guy who fills my mail box with 50 pages of junk mail every day. Holy cow. Why hasn't Al Gore noticed this?
- Why should I have to PAY CostCo or Sams to shop there? Why should I give them my money to take my money? Am I the only person that thinks this is odd?
- Toll Roads = Evil. You KNOW we've paid them off at least 20 times and yet we keep paying and paying and paying ...
- Okay, tipping makes me angry. I do it because I feel sorry for the poor lady trying to raise 3 kids on minimum wage. BUT ... why can't restaurants pay their employees like most every other company does? Who told them it was alright to stiff their workers because, "Hey, let's let the customer pay them. Oh, and only offer one kind of cola too." What if the airlines did this? We'd be tipping the pilots based upon the delay (or occasional lack thereof) and how smooth the ride was. That means their families would starve. What if we treated surgeons this way? "Hey, Doc. The smaller the scar the more I'm paying you. So let's be careful down there, huh?"
- Gas stations that change prices 3 times each day. I don't think I need to say anymore about this one.

10 Items or less...

10 Items or less that are so fine they should never be messed with ...

- Biscuits and gravy
- Curvy roads with lots of trees
- Receiving a spontaneous e-mail for no purpose other than to tell you that you are cared about (NOT EVER a "forward)
- Neighbors that will linger in the hallway for friendly conversation
- A dream that you are disappointed about waking up in the middle of and actually being able to go back to sleep and re-enter it
- Sunshine, blue sky, gentle breeze and temps perfect for a hoodie
- Coke with fizz so serious that it actually burns on the first swallow
- A friend who comes looking for you
- Watching an entire season of "Rocky and Bullwinkle" without interruption
- Actually knowing the answer

Click The Link...

My son-in-law is better than your son-in-law. (If you have one.) He takes good care of my daughter and my granddaughter. Not only that but I happen to love him just because of the guy he is.

But I digress.

Joe is on staff at the 1st E-Free Church of West County ... or something like that. He's a tech guy. And he mentioned to me recently that my little blog ... the one you are reading right now ... is number 10 on the top referral sites for his church web site. We both thought that was funny. Then it occurred to me ... "WHAT THE ... NUMBER 10? Why just number 10? I want the whole enchilada!"

So would you do me a favor. It's free. On the right you will see a link to my "My daughter Kelli's church web site." It's listed under "Web sites I hang out at." Would you please click that link. Better yet, would you please click that link on every computer you own. Just for the next week. You see, I want good old Joe to check his stats and find our that my blog is now ... NUMBER ONE! I want him to totally be IN AWE OF ME! I want ... I want ... I want him to buy me dinner!!!!

Okay, that might be asking a bit too much. But do me a favor. Click the link. Pretty please? I'd really appreciate the help. :) And it isn't really cheating. It's just ... creative clickery.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #19

Oh? Really? I hadn't noticed anything tricky about it.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #18

I just love this. It is a sign at a railroad crossing in Avon Lake, Ohio. The tracks are on top of a rather steep incline on both sides. In other words, it's on a hill. The sign is "worried" about trucks crossing the tracks and getting stuck ... or worse yet, all busted up ... on top of the tracks. I guess this would leave the wheels dangling on each side of the tracks while locomotive from hades comes bearing down on it. But what I really, REALLY love is the little "ooowie!" arrows on top of the stuck truck. 'Cause, as we all know, trucks are only human, and as such, experience a range of emotions including pain.

Riiiiight.

Beating the Cleveland infidels ... uh ... I mean Indians

What can I say? The sox go 0-2 here in Cleveland to begin the season. I pay attention but, hey, I have a life. They have to be big boys, ya know? Today however, I'm free. Debbie, Scott and I go to "The Prog" for game #3. Final score? Sox 2, Indians 1. I just had to give them "the talk." Hopefully they'll recognize this as the turning point of the season and cut me a full share of their World Series bonuses. That will be thanks enough.

Things I Wish I Had Done First Picture Chronicles #1

Why, why, why can't I figure out how to have this much fun...

The Joe & Elle Show

Many of you don't know my son-in-law, Joe. He plays (tours, records, drives insane amounts of mile) with a band named "The Fundamental Elements." You can catch them on "youtube." And then there is the worlds best granddaughter, Elle. They took this brief video and my daughter, Kelli, posted it on her blog. Well, you may not know them so you just might miss the best father/daughter instrumental in history ... at least when the daughter is only 21 months old. So ... presenting ... "The Joe and Elle Show!"

Playing Ball @ The Prog

It is indeed a new day. It is March 31, 2008, better known around the country as "Opening Day." This is the day when "The Boys of Summer" will don their uniforms, trot onto the field, and as the gladiators of old, do battle with the opposition.

It is also the first time in twenty-five years that I have not worn a Chicago Cubs jersey (or at least t-shirt) on opening day. "Why" you ask? Simple. Nobody in Cleveland gives a rip about the Cubs. To Indian fans the Cubs might as well be some team that plays in Tokyo. They just don't register on any richter scale. Now in St. Louis it was an entirely different story! By flying my Cubs colors I could keep a conversation going all day long. You see ... it's all about causing havoc! It's about mentally tormenting the opposition. No matter that the Cubs consistently fell flat on their faces throughout those years. On opening day ... no body was really sure what was going to happen.

And now I find myself on the outskirts of Cleveland, home of the dreaded (sic) Indians. Over the winter they snatched away the name of their beloved ballpark, "The Jake" (short for Jacob's Field) and replaced it with "Progressive Park" (long for "The Prog.") There is still a lot of moaning going on locally about that. I feel their pain. Wrigley Field is threatening to rename the wonderfully friendly confines something like, "Malox Memorial Stadium," "Pepto Bismol Park," or "Depends Field."

Oh, the pain.

So anyway, here I sits at my desk in the office today all decked out in my "White Sox" jersey. Why? Because the White Sox are the worthy opponents of the Indians on this opening day. They are also the mortal enemy of the home team. I understand that people here in my adopted hometown will not smile upon my decision to wear the black and silver. Rumor has it that I am risking life and limb. Geez, people. It's baseball. Get over it.

You know, I still bleed Cubbie Blue. But I'm forced to scream loud and long for the White Sox this year. It's the only way I can possibly cause trouble around here. I can't picture a season without tormenting the locals. I've been ruined by being away from Chicago for 25 years. My job is to be a missionary for Chicago baseball, reaching out to the heathen masses in the cities worshipping at the altar of pagan teams.

But here is a question that I need answered. My two teams are from Chicago. (I know, you aren't suppose to be able to do that. But I'm doing it. So deal with it.) When I moved away from Chicago, God placed me in the hometown of the baseball team that I despise the most ... the Evil Cardinals. I put up with that for 24 years. And now God moves me again. And He plops me down in the hometown of the nemesis of my second favorite team ... The Indians. Is God trying to tell me something? And if so ... what? I need a bit of help on this one. ONLY Cubs and White Sox fans are invited to reply. The rest of you just sit quietly and behave yourselves.

Scott is flying in on Wednesday. He, Debbie and I will be going to "The Prog" for Thursday's game. It might snow. It might rain. It WILL be cold. The wind WILL blow. The Prog is just a couple of blocks from Lake Erie where the wind always ALWAYS always blows.

Opening day. Man, I miss Harry Caray.

An Idea Whose Time Has Come

A friends blog has prompted me to take action. There is a time to talk and a time to act. Now is that time.

I want to build a trebuchet. The word itself is of "middle english" origin having been translated from an old French word, "trebucher" or "over thrower."


A trebuchet is a machine used in medieval warfare and was used for hurling large stones or other objects.


It is the "other objects" that have caught my attention. Having learned from reliable sources (thank you, Mr. Mayor,) that Sheffield Lake is a mere 31 miles away from Canada by water, I have decided that the time has come for me to leave my mark on our neighbors to the north. They are, after all, simply "America's hat."

Tonight I ate Lake Erie Perch for the first time. The sign in front of the restaurant said that the fish are certified. I asked the waitress if I could see their papers of certification. She said their dog ate them. I'm doubting it. Therefore, I am building a trebuchet. I plan on catching all of the Lake Erie Perch that I can this summer. Certified or not. And then ... then I am going to load them up, position the counter-weight, hit the lever ... and pelt Canada with Perch. One at a time. To the best of my knowledge this has never been attempted before. However, I have it from OTHER reliable sources that Ontario just issued their first "Perch Watch." This means that conditions are right for the formation of Perch over the skies of the province of Ontario. Should this happen a "Perch Warning" would be issued. At that time citizens of Canada will be given instructions on how to withstand the onslaught of Perch. I suppose they will be sent to the center of their homes on the lowest level. Perhaps hiding in the bathtub would help, though, upon further reflection, that is probably where the Perch will attempt to land. Especially if their is water in the tub. They will be told to never attempt to out run falling Perch and in the unfortunate event that they are caught out of doors they should lie flat in a ditch or the lowest piece of ground available. I wonder if doppler radar will detect Perch?


This is going to be an amazing summer.

Losing Your Religion

A church in Naperville, Illinois, is doing a sermon series on "Losing Your Religion." This is the video they showed on Easter Sunday. Me like.

In-Law's and Elle

I have the best in-laws in the world and they are visiting with us this weekend. They arrived this afternoon from Richmond, Virginia. We blew the bank wide open and took them to "5 Guys" for supper. Burgers to die for. Cost almost $20 but they (the in-laws) are so worth it. We even got extra fries! Then we went to their hotel with them where we sang several versions of "the birthday song" for my father-in-law who is turning a remarkably young 75 on Saturday. The cake was stupendous! Tomorrow after I get off of work we are going to give them the tour of Cleveland. Shouldn't take too long, seeing as how I don't know my way around.

And then there is Elle. Here's the latest picture of the Granddaughter of the Century! Yes, it's true. I am her favorite. She screams (in a good way) when she sees me. (Many people scream but it's not the same.) If the world were full of more Elle's this would be a very pleasant planet...

K-K-K-KATIE!

How can you not love a girl wearing "moon shoes?"

Me -1 / Moe - 0

Evidently Larry and Curly spoke up on my behalf because Moe caved in. My burrito's reverted to their normal price and my bank account was credited the deeply missed $172. You know, you'd think they'd at least offer you a free taco after holding your money for six days. Wouldn't you? Nada. Not even a free cup for ice.

I trust this isn't representative of the entire Mexican culture. Nah.

You may now resume eating at Moe's. Just pay cash. And count your change.

Spring sprung a leak

Spring. Tomorrow it is spring. My balcony disagrees. And how heavy does snow have to be to prompt you to wear a bright orange "road construction vest" when you walk your dog?

A Six Word Memoir

I am stealing this idea from a friend. It's called the "Six Word Memoir." The goal ... write your memoir in six words. Sounds simple, doesn't it?

Think again.

So, you write yours and then "tag" six other bloggers with an invitation to write their own. Then each of them "tag" six others, and six others, ad nauseam. And don't forget to ad a "link" to those you tag so that we can read their wisdom.

As for me? My "Six Word Memoir?" It has taken some work. But here it is.



And I'm "tagging" Kelli, Scott, Laura, Alisha, Suzi, and Katie. Okay, guys. Knock yourselves out. Make it count!

Moe And The $191.00 Burrito's

I do love me a good burrito. I like it with chicken and rice and beans and some good cheese. Life just doesn't come much better than that, my friend! So last week Debbie and I decided to try out a new (to us) place named "Moe's." It's a chain. Don't know if you have one or not but we do.

We went in and ordered two "Joey Bag of Donuts." That is their eclectic name for the burrito described above. We added a bowl of mexican style soup and two cups of water. Moving down the line we approached the cash register where the young man rang up out total. He slid my debit card through and as we looked up we realized that our late lunch was billing our bank account $191 and change. That, for the number impaired, would be one hundred ninety one dollars and change.

Not acceptable. The cashier noticed it about the time that we did. He called for help. No manager was on the property (strike one, Moe) and two teenagers credited our account about $172. He gave us the credit slip and the accurate receipt and we moved along. We moved along right until Debbie checked our bank account today.

We paid $191 for lunch.

She went to Moe's. Again, no manager was on duty. (Strike two, Moe.) They said the manager would be in later and she would call my cell phone to let me know what was going on.

My phone did not ring.

Supper tonight was at Bob Evans (they charged me much less for a real meal) and then we trotted over to Moe's which is just next door. Guess what! No manager was on duty. So they called up the owner. She told them to assure me that she would look into it.

Now do you really think that satisfied me at that point? Uh. No. I took the phone. She asked me how I was doing and I told her "not so hot." We talked about our problem. She assured me she would look into it first thing in the morning. I told her that was all well and good but this WAS A DEBIT CARD AND SHE WAS TYING UP MY CASH. She replied with a highly intelligent "Oh." I did my best to express my dissatisfaction without being ... rude. Or even unpastoral. it was not easy.

So right now I'm going to wait for my phone to ring in the morning. I expect good news. And if I don't get it I just really think I might go all "unpastoral" on her. You see, that would be "strike three, Moe." And strike three would not make me happy.

I think I'm pretty easy to get along with. And it really was a good burrito. But come on, Moe. Right now I'm just expecting Larry and Curly to walk through the door at any minute.

Lake Tornadoes

I have something totally new to look forward to. Today we had our "Team Kid Grand Prix." It's a pine wood derby for the children's department of our church. Lot's of fun. Very cool.

And I got to meet our communities mayor. He attended and actually raced a car. (He lost, taking last place. I presented him with a roll of toilet paper with two tires glued to it to commemorate the occasion. He seemed genuinely touched.) He's a really nice guy. We spent half an hour or so chatting. He grew up here. He is mayor in a part-time way and also a fireman. He lives right on the lake. He use to pilot a chartered boat and is licensed to steer anything up to 20 tons. I don't know what boats weigh but I would think that would be a fairly substantial floating object.

I asked him what he likes best about living here. That's when he told me about a phenomenon that takes place when the lake finally begins to melt. The massive sheet of ice breaks up into ice floes. At least I think that's what he called them. You know, chunks of ice that break apart from the main ice. Anyway, when this happens it seems that you can often stand on shore and see mini-tornadoes form above the big chunks of ice. At least they look like tornadoes. He said you can watch them spin from the ice up ... well, I don't know how far up. But up.

I am not sure what to think about that. I've never heard of this, much less seen it occur. I'll have to get back to you. At least I don't have any trees here that can get torn up. Of course ... I could get sucked off of the balcony. That might be worse?

God Bless Bob Evans

I know I shouldn't post this picture because my daughter posted it on her blog. But I figure our readership is different. So. As Kelli phrased it ... here's what happens when you turn your back on a 21 month old eating pancakes....

Elle ... grandpa is so proud of you. I do the same thing ...

Things I've Noticed About Debbie Since She Moved Back In With Me

1- She really is addicted to HGTV.
2- She makes great soup.
3- She cannot live without her green down-filled comforter. She's like Linus and his blanket.
4- She is addicted to Wal-mart and fabric shops.
5- She has so many friends that her phone is constantly ringing.
6- She remembers EVERYTHING. (Not always good for my health)
7- She likes me! She really, really likes me!
8- She can live in one room with absolutely no problem.
9- If I don't act right ... she knows how to smack right. (With thanks to Bella)
10- I love watching her pay the bills because it means I don't have to.

Proof that SOMEBODY actually skied

Topher at Vail celebrating his pending nuptials.

Why do all good things have to come to an end?

Seriously? Why do all good things have to come to an end while crummy things tend to go on and on and on and on? You ever notice that or is it just me?

Today is the last "Vail day." The only ski's I've touched are the antique pair on the hotel wall. But that's really alright. I knew shortly after we landed in Denver that it was probably going to go this way. If your lungs ache at 5,280 feet you have yourself a solid hint that they aren't going to be any happier at 11,000 feet. So I've been just kicked back and hiking around Vail during the day while the boys ski and enjoying them during the evenings.

Honestly, they amaze me. When they lived in the same house they usually wanted to kill each other. Now that they are grown and living in separate cities they are best friends. I get joy just watching them walk together, laughing and enjoying the time. There is such great satisfaction in that to me. I actually remember a conversation I had with them on a few occasions when they were teenagers and in their "you stink" stage. I told them that my brother and I use to be like that when we were kids. And then one day we got together. We were both married. Life was very different from those high school days. And something just clicked. We've been great friends ever since. We'd each do anything for the other. When I told them that story I really thought the odds of that happening were minimal. But, to my great pleasure, I was right. Nothing could please me more.

So tomorrow morning it's off e-a-r-l-y to Eagle Airport where we drop Jim off. Then we high tail it across the mountains where our jet leaves DIA at 2:15. It's suppose to snow tonight both in the mountains and in Denver. How tragic would it be if we got stuck in the city for an extra day? Not too tragic at all.

And now a side note to God. (He reads my blogs faithfully.) Thanks, Father. Yesterday Christopher text messaged me from the mountain a simple "Thanks." He meant "thanks for the trip." If I had your phone number I would send you the same message. Thanks. The memories will last eternally. I am grateful. More than words can express. Thanks.