There is not such thing as a "good cold"

I'm not dying. I just feel like I am. It's called "A Bad Cold." What a dumb name. Have you ever heard anybody say, "I have a good cold?" Me neither. I had an appointment today with my new doctor. Her name is Dr. Wu. (I resist the urge to say, "Wu who?" She holds my life in her hands.) She noticed my BAD cold. I mentioned that i am trying to keep from passing it to Debbie. Her violent asthma attacks would just love to get a hold of this bug. The doc suggested we sleep in separate rooms for now. Great idea. Maybe we can just hang a sheet down the middle of our one room and hose it down with Lysol.

So in celebration of what feels like the end of my life but in reality is just my coughing up two lungs and anything else that connects to them ... here is a picture of today's lake. It's out there ... somewhere.

Sad

You've probably read about the shooting that took place yesterday in Tinley Park, Illinois. Tinley is a suburb of Chicago on the southwestern side of the city. It is also the town I grew up in. The murders took place in a strip mall that did not exist when I lived there. That side of town was all corn. It was about one mile from my house and maybe half a mile to my church. I graduated from Tinley Park High School. One of my "serious" girlfriends was from Tinley. My family lived in two houses there during my parents 22 year stay there. My wife and I lived in 3 different apartments there during our first years of marriage. When I think of the words "home town" that is the place that comes to mind. Sure, I call myself a "Chicagoan." But that was merely the identity of the region. For all practical purposes I learned to live, love, and laugh in Tinley Park. I came to know Jesus as my Savior in that church just blocks from the site of the shootings.

Tinley Park is a great town. Actually, less than two years ago I was asked to return there and pastor the church I grew up in. It was tempting to say "yes" simply because it would be like ... you know ... going back. It would be like giving something to the place that gave so much to me. I said "no." It just was not God's direction for me. I would have been happy to relocate there if He had let me. He didn't.

But I love that town. I seldom go back but only because I really don't know anybody there anymore. But when I do make the occasional trip through the village streets it feels like home. And knowing what took place there makes me sad in a way that I really cannot explain. Tinley Park is generally a peaceful place. It was a great place to grow up. The people are friendly and the town cares about the way it looks. It takes a sense of pride in its identity. And that identity has been violated. They have been added to the ever growing list of communities that are linked together by the tragedy of mass murder. And it just isn't right.

My last few years as a "single guy" i use to run the streets and sidewalks of Tinley Park late at night. My route would end at 179th and Harlem Ave. The shootings occurred at 191st and Harlem Avenue. That's 12 blocks from where I turned around. The streets I would run were tree lined and the homes were ... and are ... filled with young families that are living the American dream. Events like the one that transpired yesterday make me wonder what the American dream really is. I mean, evil is attacking it on every side. I do not think that the dream is a myth. I do think that it is being attacked from a deadly enemy that would happily destroy us all. This reinforces my belief that the only safe place to be is in the Holy Hand of our Heavenly Father. Anyplace else is very, very dangerous indeed.

I am sad for my hometown tonight. I am sad for our country. Sad for our way of life. I hope they catch the guy who did this horrible deed. But there are more like him. And they will continue to surface and carry out the will of our enemy, Satan.

There is but one hope. And His name is Jesus. And it is my sincere prayer that He is working overtime in Tinley Park tonight. It's a great town. It doesn't deserve this pain. But then ... who does?

Buy my house

That's all. Buy my house. Pretty please.

Thank you.

Sticking With The "S" Towns

Now I know why it is taking Jesus so long to come back for His bride. Not even He could get through security without a hassle.

Cleveland airport. One more time. Flying home to get my bride. She's ready. She's packed. She's quit her job. The car is full of gas. My flight leaves (theoretically) in fifty minutes. Of course, it's snowing in St. Louis. Heavily. I just looked at the jets outside the window and they all have 3 sets of landing gear. I have no idea how long the runway is. But it occurs to me that the jet I leave Cleveland in might just decide to put down in ... oh ... Memphis or some city like that. No way I could luck out and get diverted to San Diego or Seattle. (I'm trying really hard to stick with cities that begin with "S" so as not to presume I could even possibly wind up in ... Joplin. *Shudder*)

I am being the responsible husband. I won't let Debbie drive from St. Louis to Cleveland in my rear wheel drive Mustang without me. God has assigned me the task of being protector and defender. So it's time to take to the air.

No snow. No snow. No snow. No snow ...

San Diego. San Diego. San Diego ...

Choose one of the above and stay tuned.

T - 1 ... and counting

One more day. We can do this. After one more day passes I'll be flying to St. Louis, meeting Debbie, and after 24 hours she and I will be leaving town in Emma the Mustang. T-O-G-E-T-H-E-R. Finally. At long last. My quaint (I'm being kind) little apartment is about to take on new life. My awesome bride is moving in with me again. I cannot wait.

I was looking at my calendar yesterday and noticed something interesting. I moved on November 4th, 2007. I'll fly back to get her on January 31. That is 88 days. But along the way God blessed us beyond anything we dreamed of. During those 88 days Debbie and I were able to spend at least part of 44 of them together. That is 50%. Half. Honestly, it doesn't feel that way because it wasn't like ... every other day. The days came in clumps. But still. How remarkable is that? How good our God has been to us!

And so I've cleaned and arranged and grocery shopped and have everything as ready as I can make it. Because my bride is coming home. I know it is really hard on her right now. This is a tough week full of "good bye's" and "I've enjoyed working with you for 15 years" kind of conversations. I wish I could take the pain of that away for her. I went through it. I go through it every time I go back to St. Louis for a few days. Leaving is so hard. But yes, the first time is the hardest. And so I want to be there for her. And I want God to pave the way for her. But it is going to hurt. You don't live somewhere for 25 years and walk away without feeling something.

But the future is here in this place. And I am so glad. The people are wonderful. The church God has blessed us with is going to GROW. I can see it beginning. And I cannot wait to see what His plans really are.

T minus 1 day. My bride is coming home.

Yessssssss.

A stunted blog

I have noticed lately that all of my blogging friends write very short blogs. I tend to write very long blogs. Perhaps I just talk too much. Or I have more to say than they do (which makes me smarter.) But, most likely, I just like to write more than they do.

Tonight ... a short blog.

If you have not gone to our churches new web site yet ... do. You will find it at www.firstbaptistsheffieldlake.org. It's pretty good for being less than one week old. Kudo's to Tim and Pam for doing such a great job. I just provide the content and they provide the talent and the flash.

That's it. That's my blog.

Say goodnight, Gracie.

Goodnight, Gracie. (If you are too young to understand that ... google it.)

p.s. Here's tonight Lake Erie "ice update."

Good Bye!!!! (Elle Style)

Elle. I love this little girl. It was time for her to go home and go to bed. THIS is the way a 20 month old says "GOOD BYE!"

I cannot tell a lie ...

I was sitting on the jet yesterday before it took off. Minding my own business. Laptop tucked securely under the seat in front of me. Book in my lap. Ready to take a nap and enjoy the 80 minute flight. Given the choice I always choose the same seat. SWA only flies 737's and over the wing is one row of seats on the right side of the plane that only has places for two to sit, rather than the usually three. I choose the one nearest the window which is also an emergency exit. No big deal. If the plane goes down I'll gladly rip a hole in the side for people to escape through. The flight attendant always comes by and asks if I will accept that responsibility and be willing to help others exit the plane before leaving myself. I say yes. Smile politely. Whisper "so long suckers" under my breath, and go back to reading my book. I am so good at this. Calm. Cool. Collected. I've survived hundreds of baptist church "business meetings." The prospect of a little plane crash doesn't faze me.

What? Are you crazy?

As the flight attendants got up to give their emergency instructions yesterday, for the first time I realized that while I may still be looking at my book ... I am listening to every word. I have virtually memorized every syllable. Somehow it's that "in the unlikely event of cabin depressurization..." part that gets my attention. Do I pull down on the mask before or after wrapping the thing over my face? Even though nothing is visually inflating is there REALLY air coming through the hose? I can ignore the less-than-bright individual sitting next to me and put my own mask on before helping them with full approval of the TSA? This is okay? Evidently it is. The nice lady said so.

So I guess there is some information you need to take with you after you finish reading this blog. If you fly with me ... I'm not as relaxed as I look. If you fly with me and the wings fall off ... you are probably on your own. If you fly with me and I have to rip open the side of the plane designated as the "emergency exit" I will probably be on the ground waiting for you when you smack into terra firma.

"We realize that you have a choice when you fly and we thank you for choosing to fly with us." And by the way ... if we land in water? I'm grabbing both my seat cushion and yours to use as my flotation device.

You are now free to roam around the country.

Going ZZZZZZOOM ... again

So her I sits. One more time. Cleveland airport. Southwest Airlines. If you are concerned with any retirement fund or stock market plunge simply invest in that airline. I am personally keeping them financially afloat.

God has once again "stepped up to the plate" on our behalf. He granted Debbie a job running the front desk at the local Marriott. She starts in two weeks. We are SO grateful. Living with this incredible woman has been the highlight of my life and I cannot wait to do it again. It does leave unanswered questions and unresolved issues. Like a certain house on Sanders Street that we continue to own. The health insurance issues are being resolved in 120 days through her new job. (Take THAT Guidestone!) And there are a myriad of issues that I need to figure out and so I'm jetting back to think them through. I'll return on Saturday and our church will celebrate "Vision Sunday" the next day.

So. Not much going on in our lives!

I've been a little too busy to write very creatively but I did want to update you all ... my wonderful friends ... about these events that God has brought to pass. He is good!

Thanks for reading and thanks for caring ...

God ... one step ahead of me. As usual.

Well, we are back on the great “blog express.” Debbie is behind the wheel as we tear down I-70 at p-r-e-c-i-s-e-l-y the speed limit. (Riiiiiight.) St. Louis is in the rear view mirror and Cleveland somewhere out in front of the windshield. It is such a good feeling to know that this separation from my wonderful bride might soon be drawing to a close. You know, I really do like her. Obviously I love her. But I really do like her too. I don’t mind sharing a one room apartment with her for a while. We’ll pretend it’s a hotel room and the maid’s are all on strike.

But that’s not the point. This is …

I was taking some time alone with God this morning. I was crashing in what our family calls “The Date Chair.” It’s big and soft and two people can pretty much fit in it. So I was curled up across it and talking to The Father. I was thinking about the events in our lives over the past few years that have brought us to this point. They don’t need rehashing. We have always had a close family. My kids love each other. Everybody approves greatly of those they have chosen to spend their lives with. We even love their in-laws. We have “adopted kids” like Jim and Alisha. How could it be better?

And then I had this thought.

“God, you know what I would do with the rest of my life if you would let me? Seriously? If I had unlimited resources I would build this huge house. It would be a rustic log cabin style on the outside. The inside would be “north woods” décor but still very modern. A lot of light. Tons of space. Every conceivable convenience and amenity. Enough room for everybody. And then I would invite my kids, their families, those close to them, their in-laws … everybody … and I would take them into my home and we would just live out our lives together. God, I know that is a really selfish thought. They have lives to live and would never want to do that. But if I could call the shots that is precisely what I would do."

The still soft voice of the Holy Spirit spoke. “I know. I totally understand. And that is exactly what I am doing.”

What?

“Remember, Ron? I’ve gone to prepare a place for you, that what I am there you may be also. I get it, Ron. I want all of my kids with me just like you want all of your kids with you. And I DO have unlimited resources. So I am building that house. That’s the way it all ends up. All of us. My family. The family of God, living together in unimaginable beauty and joy … forever. So don’t feel badly, Ron. You are just feeling what I have been feeling for eternity.”

And I think that for the first time in my life maybe I understand a little bit of the passion with which God loves me. And you. Us. His kids. His family. The ache I feel at knowing my kids are spread out from Chicago to St. Louis while Debbie and I take up residence in Cleveland is just like the ache that God feels. He wants His kids to come home. Home. Home.

I hope it’s almost ready.

And our second guest blogger is ...

A dear friend and former teen in my Bethalto youth group. You'll love her! Here's her wisdom for the day ...
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Have you seen the All State commercial where the man with the deep voice says " You should treat people like they are in your home, not in your way" At first I thought wow what a profound statement. Who would think that an insurance company would be pulling at the moral heart strings of America's drivers? I wouldn't have. Especially not All State and for many reasons! Reason number one, when I moved into my first apartment the All State people some how got my number and called me RELENTLESSLY trying to get me to sign up for their coverage. I literally had to put the number in my cell phone as "Do Not Answer" so that when it rang I would know not to answer. It's still there because everyday I live in fear of them calling and me accidentally answering and then hanging up on them. I hate to do that but people who take those jobs have to know that's going to happen right? So that makes it ok in my book! They get paid whether or listen and say no or if I hang up. The second reason I am irritated by this statement is that I drive 40 minutes one way to work and then I drive around all day and turn around and drive 40 minutes back at the end of the day. I do this because I love my job not because I would invite the umpteen hundred people I see on the road ever day into my home. I think to myself as I drive and someone cuts me off I'd rather kick you out of your car then invite you into my home" Of course I would never say this and instead i just grab the wheel and pray to God to continue allowing me safe travel to work but I might throw in there that if that guy were to get a flat tire I wouldn't be at all disappointed! So to you All State Insurance.... stick with what you know, badgering people into buying your service. (even though you're really terrible at that too)

--
Suzy

Where have all the bloggers gone ...

I can almost hear "Peter, Paul and Mary" singing it now. "Where have all the bloggers gone? Long time passing. Where have all the bloggers gone? Long time ago. Where have all the bloggers gone? Writers turned chicken, most every one. When will we ever learn? When will we ever learn?"

I expected a huge influx of potential blogs to fill my void over the course of this week. To date I have received ... one. Thank God for Bella. It's not too late. Get those entries in! Let's go! This could be your road to fame and fortune! (Probably not ... but who knows?)

On the more important side of life, I do believe that God is doing something odd. He majors on odd. I came back to St. Louis to slay the "insurance dragon." That has not happened. But ... I may have found Debbie a job about 3 miles from our apartment that would provide not only a place for her to work BUT ... insurance after 120 days. How weird is that? I had to drive 550 miles to turn up a potential answer 3 miles away. Hey, I'm not looking to complain! I'll take whatever God sends and thank Him for it.

Your continued prayers about this stuff is really appreciated.

Later ...

And our first guest blogger...

Our first guest blogger is my "Almost Daughter In Law." It becomes official in October at Beaver Creek, Colorado. But for now she is just my dear friend. (You can find her own blog on my links to the left under "Laura.") Her name is "Laura" but she often goes by "Bella." Take it away, Bella...
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(disclaimer) Ron is busy...and I was asked to blog/ramble in his absence.

Recently I was being reminded of how much I miss taking undergrad classes. This is mostly because I recently started taking MBA courses and it has proven itself worthy of the debt it will surely cause me. During the 4 years of my undergrad degree I had the opportunity to take a lot of classes that allowed to become extremely introspective and a little more self aware than I had ever thought was allowed...or definitely needed. In my Interpersonal Communications class I shocked the professor who had assigned that we read a book called Discovering Your Strengths. After I read the book and took the 40 page personality test, it was calculated that my number one strength was "woo".....which is one of the rarest number one strengths to be assigned. Basically it just means that I "woo" people in to liking me, talking to me, getting me things...giving me more than passing grades for less than passing effort.

Perhaps the best piece of introspection that I ever got from one of these classes (that didn't inspire me to convince some other poor soul to do something ridiculous for me...just for the sake of taking my new "woo" for a test drive) was the topic of values in my Ethics class. Oddly enough the class was taught by the campus lawyer. I never let him forget the irony in that.... The truly ironic part was that he was actually very good at teaching us on the truth behind ethics and values. One of the most dynamic (yet simplistic) things that came out of that semester for me was him saying "Values are not by definition the things that we believe or show priority....or the things that we say we believe or say we show priority.....they are the things that we SHOW we believe and we GIVE priority to".

For some reason or the other that truth for me had never really felt so tangible. I had a long list of things I had labeled as "my values". Church, school, family, friends....blah blah blah. The values that would make me seem most normal....most inconspicuous....least controversial. No one wants to realize that the thing they feel they prioritize more than anything in their life is their Tivo...or their sleep schedule....or their money. Everyone believes that because they love their family or friends or their church....that it automatically becomes a value..... But where is the action? What makes it true?

Who wants to be the first one to say...."yes I believe that my Christianity is something I base all of my values on....yet I spend most if not all of my money before I can tithe...I waste all of my time on 'life' before I read the Word or pray....and I don't plan on giving up the fight for MY will even after I ask God to show me His...". I never thought of "values" as being such an action word....not just a state of mind. It's like saying "I'm so grateful I have the full use of my legs..." and then never getting out of a wheelchair. It's incredibly handicapping.

This wasn't really shocking to anyone else in my class....but for some reason it really took me by surprise. My values are more than a list I write down during some boring lecture. They are what I do with my day. They are how I choose to talk to people. They are how I interpret and apply the Word of God. I hope and pray I never find myself in that proverbial (and metaphorical) wheelchair....that state of mind when you realize you are nothing less than a fake....unbeknownst to even yourself.

I hope my values are a testament to my list....and that the list is NOT a testament to my ignorance.

Gods love, the LORD's grace and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you...
Bella

Applications Being Accepted!

I have made the decision not to be stupid. Having arrived back in Bethalto about ... oh .... 20 minutes ago I have realized THERE AIN'T NO WAY THIS BODY WILL BE DRIVING ANY LONG DISTANCE TOMORROW! God is good but the road is loooooooong. And on the northern end it was very, very snow covered. And my head is spinning. And I think I'm going to throw up. And no, I'm not kidding.

So. Who wants to blog? I'm going to be doing my best to slay the "insurance dragon" while I'm here. That means my blogging ability will be minimal. So if you REALLY want to be a guest blogger here's your chance! Write your blogs (as many as ya want ... it's free, doncha know ...) and email them to me at www.churchaintforsissies@yahoo.com. If it's acceptable by my impeccable standards ... you're on! And if you submit please let me know if you want your name to be published. Otherwise you remain anonymous.

Oh, this oughta be fun ...

See ya in blogville!

Nascar 101

Tomorrow night there will be a meeting at my house in Bethalto concerning the all too difficult ... insurance. While thinking, praying, etc., I realized that this meeting is so potentially critical that I need to be there. (insert sigh here!) So I'm going to play the "Nascar Game" tomorrow. I'll be leaving Sheffield Lake early to arrive by meeting time at 5:00 PM. Then I'll be leaving Bethalto early on Wednesday in an attempt to be back in Sheffield Lake by church at 6:30 PM. Ya lose an hour going that way. (Insert an even heaver sigh here.) I just mention this in blog-ville because I would appreciate the prayer cover as I follow the white lines ...

Thanks. And pray for the insurance meeting too.

Anybody care to be a "guest blogger" in my spot for a couple of days? Applications being accepted...

The One Who Spits In My Sink Everyday

Yes, indeedy. This is about the most important person in my life. I've known her since I was about 17 years old. When I first saw her she was wearing blue jeans and a red top. She was so cute that I had to get to know her. At that initial moment she was sitting cross legged on the floor of her pastor's office. He was behind his desk. Her father was in a chair in front of the desk. It was a Saturday morning and they were getting ready to go on "bus ministry." That meant they were going to drive the church bus around the neighborhood and look for kids that wanted a ride to church the next morning. I suddenly took a keen interest in community outreach among children.

We wound up dating for four years and some months. When she was 19 and I was 22 I married her. Since that day she has been the one who spits in my sink every morning. I don't really pay much attention to this daily ritual. It is all a part of brushing your teeth. You put the paste on the brush, you scrub your teeth, you rinse your mouth, and you spit in the sink. Today we have been married for 11,010 days. That's a lot of spitting.

I know a lot about this woman. I know that she would rather eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich than to go out and eat alone. I know that she is much more concerned about the care of her family than she is about her own self. We have reproduced ourselves three times and so that is a lot of care-giving we are talking about. I have never seen her fail to give care when it was needed. Not one time. I know that from the time we share a good night kiss she will most likely be sound asleep within 2 minutes. I will never understand how she pulls it off but I promise you it is true. She falls asleep faster than I can turn over and turn out the light. I know that she is smarter than I am but she tries to convince me that she isn't. I know that I am a better driver than she is but she has never had a ticket or an accident and I have had both. Something is wrong there. Still, I hope the trend continues because I never want her to be involved in an accident. That is a nightmare I avoid thinking about. I know that HGTV is the only channel she needs. I know that she loves frilly girly stuff but often pretends that they are not important to her. That is because she is afraid I will spend money on her and she always sees something or someone as more worthy of the funds. I know that she loves it when I go behind her back and buy her something frilly anyway because it tells her how much I love her. I know that she makes friends quickly and once you are her friend she is fiercely protective of you. I know that watching her adult children interact with each other is one of the greatest joys of her life. I know that Elle Parker is another one. I know that her son-in-law and daughter's-in-law have been adopted by her heart as if they were her own flesh.

And perhaps best of all I know that she loves spitting in my sink everyday. Because it means we made it. There is a lot more spitting to do. And as long as it is in my sink I will continue to be the happiest man in the world.

Hey! That's my car! Hey! That's my wife!

So I was sitting on my luxury air mattress today doing a lot of nutten when my phone rang. It was my lovely wife calling to talk to me while she drove to Kelli's house on the other side of St. Louis. After a few minutes she muttered that there were cars stopped up ahead. Not good. Even worse was the fact that she was on a stretch of I-270 in Illinois between what is known as the "Canal Bridge" and the "Chain of Rocks Bridge." That's about 3 miles of exit-less territory. You are actually driving across a man made island just before crossing the Mississippi River.

Traffic stopped. I grabbed my laptop and surfed to a site that shows traffic conditions in the St. Louis area. She was in for a long wait. A car in the westbound lanes of her expressway, the lanes she was in, had managed to flip over while on the river bridge. (I'll never understand how you make a car do that.) Nary a car was moving. It was clear that this would take a while.

We were entertaining each other with typical husband/wife conversation when I noticed a link for "traffic cams." Hmmm. I clicked the link. It gave me options of dozens of camera's across St. Louis. Two got my attention. They were in the general area where she was stuck. I clicked the first link. A huge line of cars stood still facing Missouri. I clicked the other camera. Same result. I began asking her about her exact location. We talked about the trucks that were around her and what road signs might be nearby.

Today ... I saw my car and my wife three times stuck in a traffic jam in St. Louis. Once she even got out and waved at the camera. (Yes, the car was stopped at the time!) Unfortunately the camera kept turning and I didn't see her do it. But there is no doubt that it was her that I saw. One emerald green mustang with a khaki convertible top and two white semi's and an orange semi next to her. I saw her again at the next camera as she stopped next to the "Rest Area Ahead" sign.

It was almost as surreal as a cow with a "Virginia Tech" logo on it's forehead. But not quite.

Cow Tales Part 2 (The cows are coming for us)

Look, I don't make this stuff up. Some guy in Virginia has a cow with a unique marking on it's forehead. It's the logo of Virginia Tech. Yeah, really. He didn't put it there. It was born that way. Here's the NBC web site says about the bovine.

"The wife of one of the calf's owners was watching a Virginia Tech football game one day when she glanced over at the calf and saw the VT logo. She couldn't believe her eyes, according to Hayden. 'It's a feeling that other people who look at the calf for the first time can relate to. They think it was painted on. It's hard to believe it was there, actually grew there,' Hayden says"

For some reason this does not surprise me. Yesterday I wrote my first blog ever about a cow. They obviously monitor this web site. It only makes sense that the cows of the world would take advantage of the situation and make their move. I suggest that you keep an eye on the fields. Don't stand in front of the barn door. They are coming. The cows. They have smelled the fragrance of fame. They have tasted the grandeur of glory.

Beware the cows.

Cow Tales

There is a story posted by the AP tonight about a tornado that ruthlessly ripped through an Arkansas community last night. The not-so-amusing part is that a man was killed when his mobile home was blown into a tree. That is tragedy and I certainly mean no disrespect.

But then there is the cow.

Here is how the AP phrases it ... "Miraculously, the same tornado swept up a cow and carried it close to a mile. Its owner says the animal was uninjured. "

Hmm. For the first time in my life I find myself wondering what it feels like to be a cow. There is the whole "milk me" issue. I really don't even want to go there. Then there is the "eat grass" thing. Yeah, I'm a little curious about it but not curious enough to carry a plate of "Kentucky Blue Grass" up to my table and grab a fork. Then there is ... well, actually I don't think there is anything else. I'm not a farmer but my keen observational skills indicate that's about it.

Unless, of course, you go flying.

Do cows think? There clearly isn't much to think about. Milk and grass. Chew your cud. There ya go. And then all of a sudden you find yourself on a cloudy day, a little wind, kind of humid. But the calendar in the barn tells you it's January so you aren't too concerned. Besides, you are a cow. And before those thoughts even flash (okay, crawl) through your cow brain ... you are airborne. If cows CAN think ... this would probably be a good moment to do so. "Hey, there's the barn! And over there is Farmer Bob's house! Wow! Isn't that the highway? I'm over the highway! I'm across the highway! Woo Hoo!"

There is no point to this blog. None. You can go to bed now.

Stupid Picture Chronicles 17

I'm really not sure that this qualifies as a "stupid" picture. I'm not sure what it qualifies as. But somebody lost the front end off of their Mustang. As a Mustang owner myself ... I feel their pain. And, well, they must feel pretty stupid driving around without it. So yeah. Yeah. It fits as a "stupid" picture. Here is #17 for your enjoyment!