And then there's my brother ...

He use to beat me up. Then we became best friends. Now I wouldn't even shake his hand.

No. It's not what you think. I love him. He's my brother. I'd take a bullet for him. But no, I won't shake his hand.

You see, he was going potty recently and I guess his phone rang or something. (Oh geez. I hope he wasn't calling me.) Anyway, he dropped his phone. This was not a "clatter" kind of drop. It was a "kerplunk" kind of drop. It was a splash moment. His nice shiny "Razor" got "deep sixed." So what did my brother do? I mean, he had just flushed. The toilet was still in that swirly stage. And his razor was getting picked-up by the tide.

So my brother ... my brother took the plunge. He reached INTO the toilet. He reached THROUGH all of the stuff that was ... well .... swirling around with the phone. He actually managed to lay a hand on the Razor.

And then it was gone. Sucked into the sewer systems of Chicago. And he was left with a wet hand. A gooey hand. And no phone.

That's my brother. He's special. And I love him.

But no, I won't shake his hand.

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!!!!)