Too tense to tango

I wasn't doing anything when I noticed it. Nobody was messing with me. I wasn't speaking or teaching or in a heated debate. I was just ... sitting. Just being. And I was tense. I mean REALLY tense. Like I was expecting a punch to the gut. You know what I mean. You've found yourself like that before. Stressed with no real reason.

I tried a little self-analysis. What is it that's making me so tight? What happened that left me tense and ready for "fight or flight." And what does it all mean? Why and what. It occupied my mind for a few minutes with no real results.

And then it hit me. Okay, that is a bad choice of words. Nothing "hit" me. Then it OCCURRED to me.

I am either too stressed or I am not stressed enough. Too tense or not tense enough. But my current level is totally inappropriate.

Here's the deal. I am a Christ follower. I believe everything Jesus said is true. I trust Him. I believe that He is alive today and living in me through the presence of His Holy Spirit

Now, if I am right, then I am way too uptight. If Jesus is who He said He is then I've got nothing to worry about. Nothing to stress over. He knew well in advance about every situation, every sin, every defect of my life. He figured it all into the equation before I was ever even born. And He went to the cross and died in order to take care of my every situation, every sin, and every defect. None are excluded. If I blow apart and commit some horrible sin later today or in five years, Jesus already knew and had already paid for it because I am His. If my life situation blows apart and I find myself alone and destitute, Jesus already took that into consideration and He has provided all I need to get through it. And so if I am right about Jesus then I am WAY over stressed.

And if I am wrong? If Jesus didn't do all of those things? If He was just kidding? If His sacrifice and grace are not sufficient? Then I am WAY under stressed. Because I am in deep trouble and nothing is going to fix that. I have an expiration date and it is quickly approaching. There is nothing I can do about it. So I really ought to be more tense and stressed than I am.

But my current stress level? Entirely inappropriate. I can think of no circumstances under which living life moderately stressed is appropriate. Jesus was who He said He was and did what He said He did ... or not. I am either over stressed or under stressed. But the middle of the road isn't a viable option.

Well. That's what I learned today. So I thought I would share it with you. Now all I have to do is figure out how to put it into practice. I have to learn how to dance when I should be dancing. That ... is where I always blow apart.

Pray for me and I'll pray for you.

Maybe anorexia isn't always a bad thing ...

A long, long time ago in a garden far, far away, a woman picked a piece of fruit from a tree and she ate it. It was a very bad decision. I do not know if she ate the entire piece of fruit or simply took a bite. No difference. For all I know she may have cleaned off the entire tree. Again, no difference. The damage was done. She had eaten fruit from the only tree on planet earth that she had been forbidden to eat from. The only one. The single tree. That one.

And I am really hacked off at her about it.

Her culinary indulgence launched the human race into a downward spiral that continues this very moment. The woman's name was Eve and she had disobeyed God. There you have it. The first sin. God said, "Don't eat it" and so, naturally, she ate it.

Ladies and gentlemen, the score at the end of that fateful day ...

Sin - 1
Obedience - 0

I've spent too much time wondering why Eve wasn't a binge eater. Why wasn't she one of those people that makes an entire chocolate cake and eats it in a single sitting? God never said anything about eating a chocolate cake. Why wasn't she inclined toward greasy cheeseburgers like I am? They may give me a coronary but they won't condemn the human race. Why wasn't she anorexic? Lots of that going around these days. What if Eve had this idea that "thinner is always better" and forced herself to stay away from foods altogether?

No. No. Eve had to eat fruit. Eve had to eat THAT fruit. And it was so unnecessary. Such a horrible decision. You know the rest of the story. With the entrance of disobedience came the reality of sin. I wasn't even born yet and I was already condemned. Fair? No. Reality? Yes. But lest I get to cocky, every time I sin I reinforce Eve's original decision. When it comes to sin I'm not anorexic either. These bad decisions are why people come to my office with screwed up lives looking for solutions. They are why people wind up in the hospital with rebellious bodies that have turned on them. That's why cemeteries are full.

I imagine that Eve was a "hottie." She was the perfect woman, set in God's perfect garden, living with God's perfect man. Naked. Without shame. And yet she had to mess up the human race with FOOD. Think about that one for a minute. Never turn your back on a "hottie." They have a way of burning you.

Fortunately, God had/has compassion on us and sent His Son, Jesus, to pay the price for our sin. That's the good news. The bad news is that things in this world are still screwy till this very day. We still live in and with the effects of sin. And it won't go away until we do. And we won't go away until we physically die or Jesus comes back. That's just the way it is.

I wish Eve had been anorexic. I wish she had taken a pass on that fruit. It would make today a lot easier. The air would be clearer. The water would be sweeter. Nuclear weapons would not exist. Neither would bullets. The planet would not know a hospital or a cemetery. Medicine? No such thing. Work-out? Why bother. Your body would be perfect. Like Eve's. Like Adam's. And you would be naked. And not ashamed.

But noooooo .....

A simple reason to worship

It's all about the sun.

It's big. Really big. It's bright. It's round. It makes my mood improve dramatically. I am admittedly solar-powered.

I am also developing this habit of going out onto the balcony of my apartment on clear evenings and watching the sunset. I do not really understand why but it is mesmerizing. It isn't like a drama is unfolding. I know it is going to happen. (Tonight I watched it go down and then returned to the living room where Debbie was watching "House" on her laptop. She asked where I had been and I told her "watching the sunset." She asked, "Did it go down?" I assured her that it had not. "No, it bounced off of the horizon and went back up. Strangest thing I ever saw." Yes, I did get "the look.")

All winter long it was impossible to see the sun from my northward facing balcony door. That was the only window I had. So from my move-in date of November 4th through ... oh ... about mid-March I could not see the sun from my apartment. Not once. Not at all. Now it sets at about my "ten o'clock" if I am looking straight out toward the lake. So it's made major progress. And you know what bothers me? I know that sometime between now and November 4th the sun is going to hide from my balcony again. It may only be mid-July but in the back of my mind I know that winter is coming. It's out there. It's waiting. (insert heavy "sigh" here.)

It occurs to me that when I am watching the sunset, I am not really watching it set at all. It is (according to astronomers) standing still. I, on the other hand, am flying backward at (living at mid-latitudes) somewhere between 700 and 900 miles per hour.

Can you believe that?

At the equator the rotational speed of the earth is approximately 1,038 miles per hour. So if the earth were to suddenly stop spinning, the atmosphere would continue moving, and everything would be wiped out by incredible winds.

All of this is going on and I have absolutely no sense of movement at all.

I say all of that to say this. Don't you dare tell me there is no God.

Game. Set. Match. Case closed.

She Takes My Breath Away

Sometimes life just is not fair. It's been a tough week for one of the best people on the planet. Unfortunately, the old idea that if you are good life will be good to you and only bad people have bad times ... well, it just isn't true.

My wife is one of the reasons why I breath. What I mean is that she's the one that makes even rainy days seem a little bit sunny. I use to think she was perfect but then I found out she isn't. Since then (and that happened a looooong time ago) our marriage (aka: friendship) has been even better. You see, if she were perfect then she probably wouldn't want to hang out with me.

That makes sense.

Asthma has been pretty good to Debbie this year. It seems that the climate we have relocated to has been much friendlier to her lungs. Less heat. Less humidity. Less of whatever it is that triggers her desperate gasps for air. This is a very good thing. A thing we are both grateful for. I hear that it's been a nasty spring and summer in St. Louis. Tons of rain followed by tons of heat and air crud. I'm glad she's not in that. I'm glad she's done so well. But the last few days haven't been quite as good. No, nothing like some of her past years. We haven't darkened the halls of any hospitals. (Thank you, God!) But she has gotten reacquainted with her nebulizer. She's lost her voice a few times. And her toes keep turning blue. Yeah, blue.

You know, I can't imagine what that must feel like. I mean to have to fight for every breath. To have to look down at your feet for a clue concerning how much oxygen is in your system. That stinks and I hate it for her. But I'm so glad that she keeps winning the battles. Living on the lake is something that she loves. Last night was a rather cool night and she asked if we could open the sliding balcony door in our bedroom so that she could hear the waves crash into the shore all night long. I hesitated. That meant turning off the air conditioner that we count on to help filter her air. I slid the door open and it felt cool and clean. The breeze, while not strong, was coming from the lake. So I complied and listened to her breath while she listened to the waves. She did just fine. At two in the morning I closed the door and turned the air conditioning back on. No reason to take chances while she is sleeping.

I know that most of the people that read my blog also have active prayer lives. So I'd be really grateful if you'd pray for her. God has done wonderful things in our lives and we are tremendously grateful. Every day is a gift. And it would be really nice if she would be able to breath her way through them all with me.

Thanks. It means a lot.

Stupid Picture Chronicles #23

I left a yellow piece of paper under his windshield wiper. Just for fun...

Crazy Glue. It's not just for crazies anymore.

I've done it again. After years of benign glue activity I have managed to soak my finger tips in crazy glue. I caught the problem in time ... I think. After realizing that I had done this unfortunate deed I stood in the parking lot of our apartment complex turning circles with my hands and fingers pointed toward the sky. That way nothing could stick to me except a wayward sea gull (which could conceivably think I was offering up bread crumbs for a mid-day snack.) Or perhaps a Mayfly which survived the most recent manifestation. It didn't happen.

Finally, I reached oh-so-carefully into my LEFT jeans pocket with my RIGHT hand in a desperate attempt to reach my keys. Debbie realized I was acting oddly (okay, not so odd for me but still) and I told her what had happened. I got "the look." After retrieving my keys I got us into the building and, finally, our apartment. I went directly to the sink where I washed and washed and washed.

Note: You cannot wash off Crazy Glue.

I do not have access to any Crazy Glue remedy: fingernail polish remover. So I just waited until the stuff hardened. Currently I have no finger prints on the index or middle fingers of my right hand. They are glued over. And yet, like an idiot, I made my way directly to my mac and began blogging this post. I cannot feel two fingers and yet it occurs to me that I may well end up "one" with my macbook pro. I mean, I love Tess (that's her name) and all. But I also like to put her down occasionally. (I mean on a table. Not put her down like, "You're ugly.") So perhaps I best stop now. But I know what happens if I stop. I'll wind up glued to something like the TV remote. Or a book. Or a chair on the balcony. Or ... toilet paper.

Decisions never come easily these days.

Parade time on Lake Road

Well, we are experiencing our first "Community Days" in Sheffield Lake. Translation: There is a carnival down at the parking lot of a grocery store downtown. Downtown won't be downtown for long because they just announced that the grocery store will be closing in November. Hey ... more room for next years Community Days!

Anyway, our church had a float (nice job, Hicks family!) and a bunch of kids rode on it throwing candy to the crowd. Adults walked along side handing out lunch bags with information on them about our coming Vacation Bible School. I drove Emma the Mustang behind the float with kids sitting on the back throwing candy too. Debbie was having an "asthma day" and I didn't want her to try to walk the half mile parade route. Anyway, it was pretty cool. TONS of people And here are a few quick pics from the cell phone.

Pieces of "The Pie" to die for

#1 - Aurelio's PIzza ... suburban Chicago
#2 - Geno's East Deep Dish Pizza ... Chicago
#3 - Gino's 140 Pizza ... Bethalto, Il (Pepperoni & Onion, please)
#4 - Giordano's Deep Dish Pizza ... suburban Chicago (ANY toppings will do)
#5 - Imo's Pizza ... St. Louis (extra sauce!)
#6 - Mama Santa's Pizza - Cleveland's "Little Italy"
#7 - Roma's Pizza - Bethalto, Illinois (White Sauce!)
#8 - J Bucks - Clayton, Mo. (BBQ Chicken. Mmmm.)
#9 - Cannoli's - Florissant, Mo. (Okay, it's actually pizza soup but it counts)
#10- Still searching!

Write right

I love to write. Sometimes I live to write. It's cheaper than a psychiatrist. And yes, I do know that for a fact. Writing is often where I take the saplings that are growing in my mind and turn them into full grown trees. Sometimes they turn into Redwoods. Sometimes they just turn into Maples or something of a lesser quality. But writing is where fledgling thoughts turn into full blown ideas for me.

If only they were always good ideas.

I have not written much lately. I suppose that is because I choose to write in a place where people (that would be you) can read what is going on in my head. In my heart. And every now and then my head and my heart gets full of things that just don't need to be published. Things that are best left between God and I.

I've watched my blogs evolve over the years. I won't bore you with the story of how or why that happened. But it did happen. And it will probably happen again. Or maybe not. One thing I have learned is certain is that I really do not know what is going to happen tomorrow. And I certainly do not know what life will be like one year from the moment I now inhabit. I suppose it is best that way. It makes it more difficult for me to screw up God's plan.

Not too long ago I spent a couple of nights in my house. No, not my apartment. My house. The one that one of you should buy but won't! (I wish you would stop being so selfish!) While I was in that house I looked at the pictures on the walls. Many were pictures of a young family. A family that has spread out now. A round trip to all of our homes would now (according the the Almighty Google Maps) take about 1,300 miles. How did that happen? I thought about the family parties and the many get-togethers with friends. It kind of made the place feel haunted.

It's not haunted. It's just empty. Nobody is asleep in that house tonight. No dogs bark. No garbage in the can. It's just a house.

But I digress.

I've said just about all there is to say about the big old lake outside my door. I no longer ride a motorcycle so I have no harrowing stories of near death experiences. The Mayflies are gone again. For now. Life is different. Life is, well, new. I don't know who plays second base for the local major league baseball team. I have no idea where to find a real honest-to-gosh shopping mall that is both indoors and also relatively up to date. Just lots of very nice outdoor shopping centers. Does it matter? No. Not even a little bit. It simply underscores the differences between life "then" and life "now."

So here is what I think. I mean, as best I can figure it all out.

Life moves fast. And then it slows down and you don't think it will ever change. I mean, EVER. And then when it finally does it totally takes you by surprise and you aren't sure what to think or what to say or how to act. And you start thinking too much. You spend too much time filtering things through your brain and not enough time smiling at God. He is, after all, smiling at you. I mean ... me.

Family is so important to me. Friends make my spirits soar. The simple pleasures of life that are actually relatively silly become treasures that provide flavor to what can easily become a mundane, tasteless life. But the really important thing in life? Well, that would be His Smile. The smile of God. It comes when I least expect it and it reminds me of the importance of order. The smile of God should be very, very high up in the order of what is important to me. Everything else ... less so. Even those things that are, rightfully, extremely valuable and of great worth. Yes, even those things should pale in the shadow of The Smile.

And so I stopped writing for a while. And I had to really push myself to write tonight. And I doubt that I have written anything at all that should be deemed worth reading. But I went to bed when my Debbie did. She was not feeling well so we retired earlier than usual. I listened to a 45 minute long podcast of a sermon. It made me think but did not motivate me to write. And then I tried to talk to God and I am pretty sure that I heard Him tell me to go on and go to sleep because He would stay up all night and watch out for the world. I'm going to do that in just a moment. But first I grabbed Tess the Laptop and made my way into my mega-chair ... better knows as my "fuzzy buddy" or simply "The Date Chair." And I typed in the appropriate web address and now here I sits. Typing. Writing. Telling whoever might take the time to read that, to me, it is so very important that I write right. And if I can't write right, well, then I won't write at all. Because I want to grow trees. Redwoods. And sometimes the seeds just are not there.

Therefore, I beg your patience. Many of you have been reading my blog faithfully for years. Do you know how much that means to me? Well, it means a lot. And I really do not want to waste your time. I want to write right. I use to write most everyday. And I am sure I will do that again. Who knows? Maybe that starts tonight. I'm not the type that can be satisfied by just writing about my day. I have done a lot of that lately. That is because what's in my head needs to stay in my head until God responds to it. What is in my heart needs to stay in my heart until God deals with it. Or shows me how to deal with it.

Because if I am going to write ... I am going to write right.

Wanted: Blogging motivation

I've never felt less motivated to blog. I think I have become blog impaired. Perhaps I have been buzzed by one Mayfly too many. Maybe it was overdosing on Tahitian Treat. Or it might simply be that I've OVER-CHEERED for the Cubs to decimate the Cardinals. (They did 2 out of 3 times. Mission accomplished. We all know that it was my cheering from Cleveland that caused the victories.)

I have nothing funny, deep, inspiring, or mildly amusing to write about. My friends ... I am boring.

Tomorrow I shall take the proverbial bull by the horns. I shall step out of bounds. I shall pursue creativity and frivolity. And I will reenergize my blogging. For now it's ESPN or C-Span. I just can't decide which way to go ...

Duped by Dastardly Dead Beats

They got me. Right between the eyes. The previous blog? It's animated. Lies. All lies. http://www.animusic.com/index.shtml

John Deere. I trusted you. I'm trading in my tractor.

God Bless John Deere

I got this from a friend in John Deere land. It was accompanied by the paragraph below. Read it and then watch the video. Not bad for tractor boys.

This incredible machine was built as a collaborative effort between the Robert M. Trammell Music Conservatory and the Sharon Wick School of Engineering at the University of Iowa . Amazingly, 97% of the
machines components came from John Deere Industries and Irrigation Equipment of Bancroft, Iowa, yes farm equipment!
It took the team a combined 13,029 hours of set-up, alignment, calibration, and tuning before filming this video but as you can see it was WELL worth the effort. It is now on display in the Matthew Gerhard Alumni Hall at the University and is already slated to be donated to the Smithsonian.

You've Got To Be Kidding

This is what my apartment door looked like when I left for the office this morning. Hundreds of Mayflies. They crunched under foot on the sidewalk. Sweet.

Fifty-Three

I am suppose to be in a meeting right now. I'm going to be late. Today I am fifty-three years old and I have decided to take advantage of my new found maturity (no laughing) and get there when I get there. Besides, they'll be better off without me.

I've been thinking about this whole "53" thing. It shouldn't bother me. And it doesn't. But it does have me thinking. Not so much about the future. I've been thinking about the past. It has been a very good past.

In those 53 years I have managed to get somewhat educated. I managed to do the usual things young Americans do. You know. Survive Kindergarden. Drive a car. Date. Get married. Have children. Figure out a direction in which to point my life. It's all worked.

But here's the real deal. As I look back I see very, very few decisions that I would change if I could. And the ones I see are so minor that they really would not have much of a bearing on my today if I were to be able to change them.

God blessed my childhood with parents who loved me and a brother who didn't kill me. (Though he tried.)

God gave me the wife of my dreams. I am still amazed when I wake up every morning at her love and faithfulness to me. I could not be more serious about this. I think there are times that I tested her resolve on these issues but she has NEVER failed. Not once. How many men can honestly say that? (I love you, Debbie. Deeply. Passionately. Permanently.)

My kids are tremendous. They are not exactly mini-remakes of me. They all have brains and plans and the ability to chart out their own lives. The thing is, they are all going in the right directions. They love God. Two of them have taken mates and the third is about too. And the mates they have taken are beyond ... way beyond ... anything a dad could have dreamed for his kids. Not once have I looked at any of them and said, "Ooops. Maybe that was not the best decision and choice." And their spouses (and almost-spouse) even seem to love and accept me. Warts and all.

I have the world's best granddaughter. She gives me hugs. Deep, huge hugs. And when a month or two goes by and she doesn't see me because we live over 500 miles apart ... well, I show up with a bit of concern that she will have forgotten this particular grandpa. And you know what she does? When she sees me she smiles and walks right to me. And then she melts into my arms and we hug and hug and hug. And in her hugs there is peace. The peace of knowing that God is still at work in this world because He produced someone like her.

I have friends that I do not deserve. Two of them just spent the weekend here in our apartment visiting Debbie and I. Stephanie and Eric are this early 30's couple that we got to know well when I pastored in Illinois. They are great people. And for some reason they have decided to allow this 50-something couple to just be real long-term friends with them. Why would they do that? I have no idea. But I am so glad because I love them so much. (Eric and Stephanie, if you are reading this ... thanks.) Beyond that there are many more friends and I am deeply grateful and amazed by them all.

What do I have to complain about? I have a God who loves me and sees after my every need. He listens to me when I need to talk to Him. He puts food on my table. And He puts gas in my car so that I can keep up with this long distance family and the obligations I find on my plate each day. Best of all he has guaranteed my future with Him forever. In His house. And, my friend, that is nothing to dread.

So I plan on enjoying 53. And I plan on looking forward to 54. There is just nothing to dread. And the reason? Because my Heavenly Father loves me. And He sent His Son, Jesus, to pay the price for my sins so that I can be forgiven and live a life with Him forever. Nobody ... not the fiercest enemy ... can take that from me.

So, Father in heaven, thank you. Thank you for 53 years of untold goodness. Thank you for amazing love and amazing grace. Thank you for accepting me unconditionally because of the sacrifice of Your Son. Thank you for today. Can we spend it together?

Why I ...

Shave - Because my chin looks like a 8 month old Christmas tree when I don't. Lot's bark with nothing growing on it.
Sleep - Because sometimes I get lucky and dream about playing for the Cubs. (I'm starting to think maybe they really never will call me up.)
Email - Because it's easier than talking on the phone and I can't go over on my minutes.
Read - Because I have a bottomless hole in my soul that I want to fill up with truth.
Write - Because I have to do something with the stuff that keeps leaking out of the bottomless hole in my soul.
Avoid my ipod lately - Because I'm psychotic and am afraid somebody is trying to get my attention and I won't hear them. (I told you ... I'm psychotic.)
Love the Cubs - Because they represent all that is right with loyalty, tradition, and ... my childhood. And they are the best team in baseball. I'm just sayin ...
Love cheese - Because it's either orange or it has holes in it and I love orange things and things with holes in them.
Am a Coke-a-holic - Because I love things that tingle, burn, and are opaque.
Hate my feet - Because my big toes don't bend. Really.
Love Katie Voitek - Because her brain is warped in the exact same way my brain is warped. (And because she tells me things about Bratwurst that makes me eat chicken.)
Miss "Rhonda the Motorcycle" - Because she set me free on back road Illinois.

Hail VS. Pizza. And the winner is ... PIZZA!

You ever see hail the size of your head? Me neither. But as Debbie and I left Chicago yesterday the clouds were building. We had time and so we chose the route through downtown Chicago. We crossed the skyway and entered Indiana. I punched our favorite pizza place into the GPS and found an "Aurelio's" in Muncie and we headed there. It was beginning to rain as we got back into the Trail Blazer and hit the toll road again.

Then it started. Like, REALLY started. First it rained. Then the clouds dropped. It was s-c-a-r-y. (Tip: When you are driving through a major storm do not ... NO NOT ... look in that little convex blind spot mirror you might have on your gas guzzling SUV. It would make a sunny day in Hawaii look tornadic.) Well, then the hail started. And it just kept coming and coming and coming. I mean, this wasn't just a hail storm. This was the mother-of-all hail storms. Traffic slowed to about 25 mph. I figure that was about how fast the storm was moving and we were both going in the same direction. So we drove through it and through it and through it. It took like ... an hour to get out of it. And the genius on the radio kept talking about the beautiful weather in Chicago. Well, we were about 25 minutes out of town and the only thing that was beautiful was my pizza pie.

Speaking of which, do you know how hard it is to drive with your knees through a major league hail storm? I'm here to tell you, it ain't easy. But I had the worlds best pizza and it had sausage and mushrooms on it. What was I to do? I did what you would do. I ate the pizza. If I'm going to die in a hail storm I'd prefer it would be while chewing a sweet sauced, greasy pizza.

Well, we didn't die. Debbie was looking out the side window as I drove and she said the ice appeared to range from moth ball sized to golf ball sized. It wasn't fun but the pizza helped.

I have a new favorite restaurant!

As you can see on the banner photo above, I a new favorite restaurant! They have a "Deacon Enchilada Buffet" every Sunday afternoon! (Just kidding, guys.)

Stupid Picture Chronicles #22

Well, this isn't really a stupid picture. It's just that Debbie and I were sitting at a stop light. In Madison. Madison, Wisconsin. This was the view out the windshield as she asked, "Is Madison the capital of Wisconsin?"

"Uhhhhhh ... Why do you ask, honey?"

Just another night in my backyard

Use to be in my backyard I would heat up the old weber grill. Throw a couple of burgers on it. Maybe a dog or two. A brat if I was REALLY living high. Sometimes I would climb on my dad's old riding lawn mower and make a few spins around the grounds, trimming the grass down to a very low level. It brought back great memories. Almost as if dad were riding there with me. When Bear (our Golden Retriever) was still around I would clean out the dog run. Okay, I'd have the kids clean out the dog run. (I'm too old to start lying now.) Sometimes the boys and I would play a game of catch. Or we would take turns standing in the front yard hitting whiffle balls over the house to be caught by the other two in the backyard. Our huge trees would often make the whiffle ball act more like a pin ball, bouncing from limb to limb before (hopefully) coming to rest in our hands. After dark the hammock was the great temptation. It would hang between one maple tree and an iron pole marking the end of the clothes line. You could look up through the branches of the trees and see countless stars. Until an ant dropped off of a leaf or a limb and into your widely gaping mouth. Yum. Kelli loved the hammock. She hated the ants. The hum of the air conditioners could be clearly heard as the neighborhood fought to keep the oppressive summer heat at bay. It was a great place to raise kids. Actually, it wasn't a bad place to just "be." Then, in the last years, the storms came. The trees paid the price, nearly dying in the gales dropping out of the thunderheads. It cost me over $1,000 to get them shaped up so that they would be safe to walk under again. Today they are beginning to regain some of their former beauty. I've always believed in letting trees grow. Never was one for much pruning. I always said, "They are God's trees. He can trim them anytime He wants to." Well, he took me up on my offer and it took me days to clean up the mess. There is a lesson there. Somewhere.

My backyard is different these days. Tonight it is filled with hundreds of the famous Cleveland "Mayflies." You don't dare walk outside tonight with your mouth open. I'm not exaggerating. They will fly in and bring a few friends with them. The wind is howling in off of the lake. With sliding doors open on both ends of our apartment we officialy live in a wind tunnel. Last night we slept with our bedroom patio door open and enjoyed the lullaby of God's waves crashing into the shore. It was hypnotic. And tonight? Well, a picture is worth a thousand words. A video? Must be worth a million. Here is my backyard on this cool, windy, bug filled, June evening. (About a third of the way through the video you will see a black blur. Not to worry. It's simply a Mayfly buzzing my lens. And by the way, walk 31 miles straight ahead and you find yourself in Canada.)

Score one for the little guy!

Cars have feelings too. I mean really. Emma the Mustang isn’t any different. We’ve developed this relationship over the 6 years of her life. It’s quite special. You might even say intimate. She shares her deepest needs with me. Her thirst for fuel. Her desire for frequent oil changes. An occasional bath. I meet her needs. In turn she takes me places. We go up and down the highways (always abiding by the speed limits and other rules of the road.) That’s all I need from her. I nice sunny day, cool temperatures, and a casual ride. The relationship works for us.

And so we look out for each other. That’s what brought us to last Saturday night. Debbie and I had been out of town. Emma stayed in our apartment buildings parking lot while the Trail Blazer did the dirty work. Shortly after we got back a survey of the fridge showed us of our imminent need for a grocery store. We fired up Emma and drove to “Giant Eagle.” We pushed our little chrome cart up and down the aisles, grabbing the needed ingredients to keep our tummies from rumbling. We went to the cashier, paid our bill, and exited to the parking lot.

My breath became ragged as I saw the car BESIDE Emma. It was a 1970’s vintage Mustang Cobra. Black. Her hood indicated that she sported a 351 cubic inch engine. Ouch. I could only imagine how that made Emma feel.

“Why, why, why does a guy have to park a car like that next to Emma?!” I asked Debbie. She began loading the groceries into the trunk while I secretly wiped the drool from my chin.

And then the owner showed up. He was this studly 40ish kind of guy with a small bag and a big key. “Oh man, did you HAVE to park there?” I asked him.

He laughed and said, “Hey, they are both Mustangs.”

Sure. I patted myself on the back while making a mental note that Emma is a convertible while this beast of a Cobra would always remain hot on those brutal summer days. I watched the owner slide into his car and put the key into the ignition. I braced myself for the rumble to come.

“Click.”

Huh?

“Click.”

The Cobra’s owner looked up at me. I busted up. I am soooo sorry but I just could not help it. I was doubled over Emma’s spoiler when the guy said, “Well, at least I’ve got jumper cables.” I told him that Emma and I would be happy to help him out… providing he wouldn’t mind my capturing the moment on the camcorder of my cell phone. The rest is history.

Score one for the little guy.