Stories, Poems and Other Stuff...

Friday, July 16, 2010

writing about thinking and thinking about writing.....

I have lots to think about and lots of time to think about it. Some of my earliest thoughts revolved around the superficial things in life. In the 1970's one thought involved getting real motorcycle handlebars for my Schwinn Stingray that I bought for five bucks. Heck, that bike was a thought. So was the five bucks, albeit a fleeting one.

So, with all my thinking about thinking I started thinking about what I like to think about most...what to write next. As a child I toyed with the idea Of being a writer. The only classes I would go to in high school were the ones that involved literature and composition. There was the occasional wood shop, or small engine repair detour, but for the most part I ditched all the classes I didn't like and attended the ones I did. The result of this method of education was never graduating from high school. I did finally get a diploma in the Army after they realized the let me in without one. Those were the easiest four months of my Army career.

A lot of writers have influenced me over the years. For a long time I would find myself trying to mimic some part of their style to make my own. Who knows, maybe I was successful in taking bits and pieces of style and made the perfect Frankenstein. Hopefully it wont kill you, just mildly bore instead. The thing is that I don't want to be those writers. They do, or did their job well. Nope, I wanna be me.

I have had stories going through my head because, as I stated earlier, I have lots of time to think. For a while I thought I wanted to write some sort of self help seven steps to a cleaner soul type of book, but recently discarded that idea after realizing I rarely clean my ears. I have started and restarted writing stories that have nothing to do with anything other than people and their stories. Most of it focusing on the absurd things that happen to me daily. In short, telling my story through the story of some guy, or groups of people that I made up. What they do depends largely on what people around me do. Writing what I know, and if I don't know you, don't worry. That is unless you happen to serve me coffee at Starbucks or something like that.

This particular thought on writing and thought got it's start here. It's a contest where one can win a trip for two to Portland, Oregon for a seminar on how to write about your life,and rewriting it to live the life you want to live. Donald Miller of Blue Like Jazz fame is putting it on. I like his writing, but I am not going to enter. Mostly because I think I have writing my life covered and Portland just doesn't seem like a destination point in my life. Sorry Portland. If it helps, you ain't missing much.

So, why do I bother to write about thinking, writing and a contest for a seminar that I am not going to? I am glad you asked. My whole reason for doing this is to sort of kick my self in the butt to write more. For the last year and a half I have written very little. I have attributed it to not having the time which really isn't true. Mostly I think I got burned out on what I was writing about and needed some new fodder. Gone are my thoughts about religion and spirituality. Instead I will think and write more about God and my relationship with Him and others and my relationship with them and Him. Mostly it will be through story, my story fictionalized to protect the innocent and those with good lawyers.

I will share some thoughts and pieces of these stories on this blog, on Facebook and hopefully in book form as time progresses. You are invited to be either entertained, or bored to death. Just remember that I am the messenger so don't shoot me...

Thoughts While in the Starbucks Drive Thru





I am beginning to believe there is no such thing as a happy medium. No, I'm not talking about some happy nut case that claims to talk to famous dead people. Really, what's up with that anyway? Why do they claim to talk to famous people? If you want to convince me that you actually talk to dead folks then maybe you should talk to some dead guy who lived his life between a river cabin and a trailer park drinking like a fish and smoking like a coal fired power plant until one day dying from a massive myocardial infarction (I just reached my goal for placing the word infarction into a sentence) I would use the giddy grande (medium at Starbucks) to ask the dead dude if the excess was worth it.

Nope, the happy medium I am talking about is in the service we get each and every day. I long for the day where I can go into any store and get civil service. I go to one store, fast food joint or whatever and the person behind the counter barely looks up to acknowledge that I am there. Or, this is my favorite, they do look at me, but in a way that makes me feel like I just interrupted some deep thought that would have changed the world but will now forever be forgotten because they suffer from ADD and can't think past the last five seconds. Pardon me for thinking that your actual job description includes scanning my items and taking my money, a portion of which makes it into your wallet.

Sometimes I am such an imposition.

I guess I would be happy with consistency. If everywhere I went I got consistently bad service, I would be able to accept that. I would even throw in with attitude and a can of corn at the clerks head. Okay, I wouldn't really throw the can of corn, a loaf of bread maybe, but not corn.

So I am in the drive thru at Starbucks. I pulled up to the speaker and get ready to order.

“Good evening. And how are you tonight?” says the singsong voice in the speaker.

I am thrown off by the slightly effeminate voice and before I can come up with something witty to say back I reply, “I am doing well. How are you tonight?”

Singsong says, “I am doing well, thanks for asking. How may I help you tonight?”

Before I go any further I want to say that at this point in this man love conversation I want to say something like, “My feet hurt, can you rub them? That would really be a big help,” Instead I order a Venti Pike's Place.

I get to the window, pay for my coffee...more pleasantries..ignore the tip box and leave with hot coffee in cup holder.

That bit of uncomfortable human interaction really bothered me. I don't know what that says about me. Hmm, on second thought, yes I do. What bothered me was that the guy didn't seem genuine. The clerk at the grocery store is genuine. They genuinely don't want to be there and it shows. The barista, or is that barister, was obviously following a sales technique that some out of touch Starbucks executive thinks will sell more coffee. Do you know what sells more coffee? Addiction...

I think that the happy medium that I long for would be a real interaction between two people. When I order a coffee, buy corn or talk to a real live person in India pretending to be in Newark I want small talk. I want to do what I set out to do and not feel the biting glare of contempt, or feel creeped out. I want service, nothing more, nothing less. That would be a refreshing, happy medium

Thoughts While in the Starbucks Drive Thru





I am beginning to believe there is no such thing as a happy medium. No, I'm not talking about some happy nut case that claims to talk to famous dead people. Really, what's up with that anyway? Why do they claim to talk to famous people? If you want to convince me that you actually talk to dead folks then maybe you should talk to some dead guy who lived his life between a river cabin and a trailer park drinking like a fish and smoking like a coal fired power plant until one day dying from a massive myocardial infarction (I just reached my goal for placing the word infarction into a sentence) I would use the giddy grande (medium at Starbucks) to ask the dead dude if the excess was worth it.

Nope, the happy medium I am talking about is in the service we get each and every day. I long for the day where I can go into any store and get civil service. I go to one store, fast food joint or whatever and the person behind the counter barely looks up to acknowledge that I am there. Or, this is my favorite, they do look at me, but in a way that makes me feel like I just interrupted some deep thought that would have changed the world but will now forever be forgotten because they suffer from ADD and can't think past the last five seconds. Pardon me for thinking that your actual job description includes scanning my items and taking my money, a portion of which makes it into your wallet.

Sometimes I am such an imposition.

I guess I would be happy with consistency. If everywhere I went I got consistently bad service, I would be able to accept that. I would even throw in with attitude and a can of corn at the clerks head. Okay, I wouldn't really throw the can of corn, a loaf of bread maybe, but not corn.

So I am in the drive thru at Starbucks. I pulled up to the speaker and get ready to order.

“Good evening. And how are you tonight?” says the singsong voice in the speaker.

I am thrown off by the slightly effeminate voice and before I can come up with something witty to say back I reply, “I am doing well. How are you tonight?”

Singsong says, “I am doing well, thanks for asking. How may I help you tonight?”

Before I go any further I want to say that at this point in this man love conversation I want to say something like, “My feet hurt, can you rub them? That would really be a big help,” Instead I order a Venti Pike's Place.

I get to the window, pay for my coffee...more pleasantries..ignore the tip box and leave with hot coffee in cup holder.

That bit of uncomfortable human interaction really bothered me. I don't know what that says about me. Hmm, on second thought, yes I do. What bothered me was that the guy didn't seem genuine. The clerk at the grocery store is genuine. They genuinely don't want to be there and it shows. The barista, or is that barister, was obviously following a sales technique that some out of touch Starbucks executive thinks will sell more coffee. Do you know what sells more coffee? Addiction...

I think that the happy medium that I long for would be a real interaction between two people. When I order a coffee, buy corn or talk to a real live person in India pretending to be in Newark I want small talk. I want to do what I set out to do and not feel the biting glare of contempt, or feel creeped out. I want service, nothing more, nothing less. That would be a refreshing, happy medium

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Thoughts While in the Chip Aisle

You can't teach an old dog new tricks nor can you trick him with slick marketing.

My wife says that I was old and set in my ways before my time. I say I know what I like so why change it.

I became aware of this many years ago when juice companies started blending juices together. As I look back however, I can see the first rumblings of curmudgeonry when Coke came out with New Coke. My question whenever a company tries something new with something that has worked well for all these years is: WHY?

Of course the question is rhetorical. I know that the real reason they change things up is to boost sales of the same product by changing it slightly because really, the only reason a company is in business is to make mo money, mo money, mo money. Current business models don't allow for the board of directors to be content with what they have; which is a consistent cash flow.

If you ask me they waste more money on advertising the new products instead of relying on the brand name that has been trusted for decades. Most, if not all companies, do this. However, for sake of time I will use Doritos as an example. It always amazes me just how big supermarkets have become. Our local bodega of sundries actually has an aisle that is close to 150 feet long with one side devoted to nothing but chips. They have potato chips ruffled, flat, bbq, sour cream and onion, salt and vinegar. Oh and then there are pretzels honey mustard, regular salty, low salt. But what caught my eye the other day were the Doritos.

Now Doritos have been around for roughly 45 years. For the longest time the only flavor I remember was the nacho cheese flavor. Cool ranch came along later on, but that was fine because they didn't delve into anything else and still made money. Good for them. What I noticed this time was that there are like a bazillion new Doritos flavors!

I am a simple man. I like things to stay simple. If something ain't broke, don't fix it. What I saw that day sent my head spinning like Linda Blair's in the Exorcist. There they were, right next to the nacho cheese and cool ranch, cheeseburger and taco flavored Doritos! I get the connection, sort of, with the taco flavor. I am at a loss when it comes to cheeseburger flavored corn triangles. I am pretty sure that if I had a hankering for a cheeseburger then I wouldn't be reaching for a bag of cheeseburger flavored Doritos. I do admit that I have tasted these chips after they somehow made their way into my home. I will give them credit for making them taste like a cheeseburger. Although the thought of how they do it scares me. I am not alone in saying I wont buy them. They will fall by the wayside and something new like fish taco flavor or something equally disgusting will take it's place.

Am I living in a dream world, or am I right in saying that I remember life being a little more black and white? We used to get just apple juice, actors were actors, not people we looked to for sage advice. Guys were guys, and girls were girls. People talked to each other face to face. The English language wasn't yet reduced to a bunch of acronyms and emoticons. The other day my daughter had to leave the room and actually said, “BRB,” as she left. Really, as I get older will I be able to communicate with anyone?

When I think about it I guess I don't mind too much that things are changing and being mixed together. I just wish it were a little bit easier to find my apple juice. For the sake of texting space I don't mind the acronimical use of language, even when it causes me to reply, “huh? wdym(what do you mean)” I just want to have a conversation once in a while. As for Doritos, I will stick with nacho cheese.

Thoughts While in the Chip Aisle

You can't teach an old dog new tricks nor can you trick him with slick marketing.

My wife says that I was old and set in my ways before my time. I say I know what I like so why change it.

I became aware of this many years ago when juice companies started blending juices together. As I look back however, I can see the first rumblings of curmudgeonry when Coke came out with New Coke. My question, whenever a company tries something new with something that has worked well for all these years is: WHY?

Of course the question is rhetorical. I know that the real reason they change things up is to boost sales of the same product by changing it slightly because really, the only reason a company is in business is to make mo money, mo money, mo money. Current business models don't allow for the board of directors to be content with what they have -- which is a consistent cash flow.

If you ask me, they waste more money on advertising the new products instead of relying on the brand name that has been trusted for decades. Most, if not all companies, do this. However, for sake of time I will use Doritos as an example. It always amazes me just how big supermarkets have become. Our local bodega of sundries actually has an aisle that is close to 150 feet long with one side devoted to nothing but chips. They have potato chips ruffled, flat, bbq, sour cream and onion, salt and vinegar. Oh and then there are pretzels honey mustard, regular salty, low salt. But what caught my eye the other day were the Doritos.

Now Doritos have been around for roughly 45 years. For the longest time the only flavor I remember was the nacho cheese flavor. Cool ranch came along later on, but that was fine because they didn't delve into anything else and still made money. Good for them. What I noticed this time was that there are like a bazillion new Doritos flavors!

I am a simple man. I like things to stay simple. If something ain't broke, don't fix it. What I saw that day sent my head spinning like Linda Blair's in the Exorcist. There they were, right next to the nacho cheese and cool ranch, a big bag of cheeseburger and taco flavored Doritos!

 I get the connection, sort of, with the taco flavor. I am at a loss when it comes to cheeseburger flavored corn triangles. I am pretty sure that if I had a hankering for a cheeseburger then I wouldn't be reaching for a bag of cheeseburger flavored Doritos. I do admit that I have tasted these chips after they somehow made their way into my home. I will give them credit for making them taste like a cheeseburger. Although the thought of how they do it scares me. I am not alone in saying I wont buy them. They will fall by the wayside and something new like fish taco flavor or something equally disgusting will take it's place.

Am I living in a dream world, or am I right in saying that I remember life being a little more black and white? We used to get just apple juice, actors were actors, not people we looked to for sage advice. Guys were guys, and girls were girls. People talked to each other face to face. The English language wasn't yet reduced to a bunch of acronyms and emoticons. The other day my daughter had to leave the room and actually said, “BRB,” as she left. Really, as I get older will I be able to communicate with anyone?

When I think about it I guess I don't mind too much that things are changing and being mixed together. I just wish it were a little bit easier to find my apple juice.

For the sake of texting space I don't mind the acronimical use of language, even when it causes me to reply, “huh? wdym(what do you mean)” I just want to have a conversation once in a while. As for Doritos, I will stick with nacho cheese.

Friday, July 02, 2010

Death of a Rat Fink

The crowd formed around the near lifeless body.

“Wow, how do you think he got here?” asked one guy.

“I dunno, I saw a couple of guys in the alley.” said another.

“Homeless guys. I've seen them before. They stand on the median holding signs saying they are homeless vets, but they don't like animals. Saw one kick a dog the other day,” said one guy amid stares of disbelief.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I thought vets took a hypocritical oath or something.”

“No, I meant are you seriously that stupid?” Some in the crowd chuckled. So did the guy laying in the street. It was mistaken for a moan of pain. They say laughter is the best medicine, but it wasn't helping this guy.

The crowd was growing. Some pointed. Many turned their heads away at first look, but quickly turned back as if the guy was going to suddenly disappear. The man on the ground managed to get out a faint, “Help,” but it was drowned out by the speculative conversation.

“What should we do?”

“Anybody know CPR?”

“He doesn't need CPR. He needs a doctor.”

“Anybody know the number for 911?” The crowd shifted their eyes from the dying man to the genius. There was a momentary silence, as the soon to be dead man whispered, “911..”

As quick as eyes were initially diverted from the dying man the crowd returned to their talking, only now the conversations had nothing to do with the man on the ground.

“I got it on the Plaza.”

“And then she said....”

“ I think it's going to rain..”

“My grandma was a nun..”

And so on....

The two homeless vets walked up to the crowd. They were talking to each other.
“He had it coming to him. Sorry to see him go like this.”

“Yeah, I wish it could have been different.”

“He was a rat fink. You just can't do that and expect nothing to happen.”

“I know, just wish it could've been different.”

Sirens were heard in the distance. Apparently genius, after getting the number to 911, called it. It was too late. During all the banal conversation the guy died, right there in the middle of the street.

The paramedics arrived, checked the guy over, lifted the lifeless body on the stretcher, and loaded him into the ambulance. The two homeless vets ducked back into the alley. The crowd disbursed as the ambulance left the scene, and life on that street went back to normal.

Death of a Rat Fink

The crowd formed around the near lifeless body.

“Wow, how do you think he got here?” asked one guy.

“I dunno, I saw a couple of guys in the alley.” said another.

“Homeless guys. I've seen them before. They stand on the median holding signs saying they are homeless vets, but they don't like animals. Saw one kick a dog the other day,” said one guy amid stares of disbelief.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I thought vets took a hypocritical oath or something.”

“No, I meant are you seriously that stupid?” Some in the crowd chuckled. So did the guy laying in the street. It was mistaken for a moan of pain. They say laughter is the best medicine, but it wasn't helping this guy.

The crowd was growing. Some pointed. Many turned their heads away at first look, but quickly turned back as if the guy was going to suddenly disappear. The man on the ground managed to get out a faint, “Help,” but it was drowned out by the speculative conversation.

“What should we do?”

“Anybody know CPR?”

“He doesn't need CPR. He needs a doctor.”

“Anybody know the number for 911?” The crowd shifted their eyes from the dying man to the genius. There was a momentary silence, as the soon to be dead man whispered, “911..”

As quick as eyes were initially diverted from the dying man the crowd returned to their talking, only now the conversations had nothing to do with the man on the ground.

“I got it on the Plaza.”

“And then she said....”

“ I think it's going to rain..”

“My grandma was a nun..”

And so on....

The two homeless vets walked up to the crowd. They were talking to each other.
“He had it coming to him. Sorry to see him go like this.”

“Yeah, I wish it could have been different.”

“He was a rat fink. You just can't do that and expect nothing to happen.”

“I know, just wish it could've been different.”

Sirens were heard in the distance. Apparently genius, after getting the number to 911, called it. It was too late. During all the banal conversation the guy died, right there in the middle of the street.

The paramedics arrived, checked the guy over, lifted the lifeless body on the stretcher, and loaded him into the ambulance. The two homeless vets ducked back into the alley. The crowd disbursed as the ambulance left the scene, and life on that street went back to normal.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

I'm a Crank....

As I get older I feel as if I am becoming a crank. Maybe it's my patience level going lower, maybe it's the attitude of those in the service industry, or a combination of both.

Is it too much to ask for a little eye contact and, uh say, conversation when I am handing over my money at the check out counter. I may be better off asking for change on the corner. Nope, what I get is someone with more attitude than most divas. My favorite is happy saggy britches with his poo stained boxers showing talking on his cell phone while ringing up my groceries. That guy should get the employee of the month award for excellent customer service.

Ok...It's official, I am a crank.

So the other day I pulled into a small gas station with my large truck. Being a large truck it has a unique cloaking ability. Apparently my parking where I did, filling up my truck (lots of fuel by the way) had blocked the view of the clerk. After I filled up my truck I went inside to get a drink, an action that involved spending yet more money. As I got to the counter the clerk didn't say hi. Nope, she didn't welcome me, not even a “how may I help you?”. What I got was, “The next time you come here don't park there. I can't see the other pumps.”

Ok, so my truck is too big. You can't see the pumps I get that. What would that matter in the land of pre pay pumps? I just spent over $70.00 in gas and way too much for a Gatorade. No, “thank you come again”. Instead I get attitude for parking my truck in your view of the pumps.

That gas station, along with the grocery store down the street, and every other store within a 10 mile radius has made the list of stores boycotted.

I know that I may not make a dent in their revenue. I don't really care. No, if I stay within my shallow pool I can fool myself into feeling as if I am.

I may be becoming a crank......

I'm a Crank....

As I get older I feel as if I am becoming a crank. Maybe it's my patience level going lower, maybe it's the attitude of those in the service industry, or a combination of both.

Is it too much to ask for a little eye contact and, uh say, conversation when I am handing over my money at the check out counter. I may be better off asking for change on the corner. Nope, what I get is someone with more attitude than most divas. My favorite is happy saggy britches with his poo stained boxers showing talking on his cell phone while ringing up my groceries. That guy should get the employee of the month award for excellent customer service.

Ok...It's official, I am a crank.

So the other day I pulled into a small gas station with my large truck. Being a large truck it has a unique cloaking ability. Apparently my parking where I did, filling up my truck (lots of fuel by the way) had blocked the view of the clerk. After I filled up my truck I went inside to get a drink, an action that involved spending yet more money. As I got to the counter the clerk didn't say hi. Nope, she didn't welcome me, not even a “how may I help you?”. What I got was, “The next time you come here don't park there. I can't see the other pumps.”

Ok, so my truck is too big. You can't see the pumps I get that. What would that matter in the land of pre pay pumps? I just spent over $70.00 in gas and way too much for a Gatorade. No, “thank you come again”. Instead I get attitude for parking my truck in your view of the pumps.

That gas station, along with the grocery store down the street, and every other store within a 10 mile radius has made the list of stores boycotted.

I know that I may not make a dent in their revenue. I don't really care. No, if I stay within my shallow pool I can fool myself into feeling as if I am.

I may be becoming a crank......

Re: Post

The following is a repost of an old post, hence the name repost.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

We moved to California when I was eight. My mom said it was to be closer to my dad who had moved there with his new family. I wanted to think she missed my dad, and was going there to get him back. Before that we were living in Des Moines Iowa.

I liked Des Moines. It had all that I had known to that point in my life.

I liked California also. I still do. I’m not too sure about Des Moines though.

We had visited my dad earlier that year. I did a lot that year. I flew in a jet for the first time in my life (something that I still get excited about). I went to Disneyland. This was when they still had ticketed rides, I had a few left over and saved them in a shoe box of important stuff (stuff that is important to eight year old boys). My brother, Andy and I rode our wagon down a 16% grade hill (at least it looked that steep), and survived! I also got to ride in the back of a red 74 Volkswagen Bug. I think it took us four days to get from Des Moines to Orange County, California. It was a fun ride for us kids. It was fun for our Siamese cat, at least he didn’t seem to mind it. I don’t think it was fun for my mom. I don’t know why?

When we got there we had no place to live. We stayed in a motel for two weeks while my mom looked for a place. What little stuff we had moved, was sitting in the moving company storage. Mom found a place in Stanton. The first night there we slept on the floor. On the next day, our furniture was delivered. Andy and I were disappointed to see that the guys delivering our stuff were different than the guys that loaded it in Des Moines. It wasn’t that we had become attached to them, or anything like that. We just wanted to see the fat guy with the plumber’s crack. At that age seeing a fat man’s butt crack peek out from his belt line is funny.

Come to think of it, at forty, it still is. I think I’ll call Andy and see if he still thinks it’s funny.

Somehow, I did not notice that my mom had sold our beds in Des Moines. We slept on the floor for about a year. Then we got mats.

We were camping. At least that is what my mom would tell us when we got discouraged, which wasn’t often. Discouragement usually came after visiting our friend’s, and seeing their bedrooms full of all sorts of stuff, including a bed.

One friend, Patrick, had a stool in his room that was made from a elephant foot. For one brief moment I wanted that stool instead of a bed.

Life seemed a lot simpler back then, and it was. We didn’t have much. We didn’t expect much. We had a few channels to chose from, so sitting around, watching TV was not that fun. We spent most of our time outside. We would run around our neighborhood, looking for things to do. Sometimes we would play baseball, ride bikes and skateboard. Sometimes we would throw dirt clods at each other. Sometimes we would go over to Eck’s house. Eck was around eighty. His face was full of deep lines, gray stubble and chewing tobacco spittle. Eck was a good guy. We would do things that I know had to aggravate him, but he never let on. The only time that he would raise his voice was when one of us would reach down to pick up one of the many discarded chewing tobacco plugs. I guess we thought that they were dark dirt clods.

It seems that life for kids is much harder. I remember that our parents used to say that things were easier for us when we were growing up. They were right. Kids are too serious now. I had to take the Gameboy from my kids because of the intense moods the games would create. Little kids are not supposed to have high blood pressure. I overheard other kids talking about designer clothes and the latest gadget they are going to get. I am constantly shocked when Chas and I try to buy clothes for our daughter. What ever happened to cute little outfits that covered the entire body? My nine year old does not need to expose her midriff to be cool. I just want my little girl to be a little girl.

The next time you go out to a mall or store, pay attention to the conversations between parents and children. Kids are not settling for second best or nothing. Advertisers know this too. They target the minds of kids. As a result, parents will give in just to quiet their screaming kids.

We recently got rid of cable, limited the video game play and started making the kids play outside. I look out the window to check on them. I noticed that they were using things that they found around the neighborhood to play with. Mostly sticks and rocks, but they were playing. Sticks and rocks are cheap.

I wonder if I can get away with selling their beds?

Peace and God Bless,

Chuck

Re: Post

The following is a repost of an old post, hence the name repost.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

We moved to California when I was eight. My mom said it was to be closer to my dad who had moved there with his new family. I wanted to think she missed my dad, and was going there to get him back. Before that we were living in Des Moines Iowa.

I liked Des Moines. It had all that I had known to that point in my life.

I liked California also. I still do. I’m not too sure about Des Moines though.

We had visited my dad earlier that year. I did a lot that year. I flew in a jet for the first time in my life (something that I still get excited about). I went to Disneyland. This was when they still had ticketed rides, I had a few left over and saved them in a shoe box of important stuff (stuff that is important to eight year old boys). My brother, Andy and I rode our wagon down a 16% grade hill (at least it looked that steep), and survived! I also got to ride in the back of a red 74 Volkswagen Bug. I think it took us four days to get from Des Moines to Orange County, California. It was a fun ride for us kids. It was fun for our Siamese cat, at least he didn’t seem to mind it. I don’t think it was fun for my mom. I don’t know why?

When we got there we had no place to live. We stayed in a motel for two weeks while my mom looked for a place. What little stuff we had moved, was sitting in the moving company storage. Mom found a place in Stanton. The first night there we slept on the floor. On the next day, our furniture was delivered. Andy and I were disappointed to see that the guys delivering our stuff were different than the guys that loaded it in Des Moines. It wasn’t that we had become attached to them, or anything like that. We just wanted to see the fat guy with the plumber’s crack. At that age seeing a fat man’s butt crack peek out from his belt line is funny.

Come to think of it, at forty, it still is. I think I’ll call Andy and see if he still thinks it’s funny.

Somehow, I did not notice that my mom had sold our beds in Des Moines. We slept on the floor for about a year. Then we got mats.

We were camping. At least that is what my mom would tell us when we got discouraged, which wasn’t often. Discouragement usually came after visiting our friend’s, and seeing their bedrooms full of all sorts of stuff, including a bed.

One friend, Patrick, had a stool in his room that was made from a elephant foot. For one brief moment I wanted that stool instead of a bed.

Life seemed a lot simpler back then, and it was. We didn’t have much. We didn’t expect much. We had a few channels to chose from, so sitting around, watching TV was not that fun. We spent most of our time outside. We would run around our neighborhood, looking for things to do. Sometimes we would play baseball, ride bikes and skateboard. Sometimes we would throw dirt clods at each other. Sometimes we would go over to Eck’s house. Eck was around eighty. His face was full of deep lines, gray stubble and chewing tobacco spittle. Eck was a good guy. We would do things that I know had to aggravate him, but he never let on. The only time that he would raise his voice was when one of us would reach down to pick up one of the many discarded chewing tobacco plugs. I guess we thought that they were dark dirt clods.

It seems that life for kids is much harder. I remember that our parents used to say that things were easier for us when we were growing up. They were right. Kids are too serious now. I had to take the Gameboy from my kids because of the intense moods the games would create. Little kids are not supposed to have high blood pressure. I overheard other kids talking about designer clothes and the latest gadget they are going to get. I am constantly shocked when Chas and I try to buy clothes for our daughter. What ever happened to cute little outfits that covered the entire body? My nine year old does not need to expose her midriff to be cool. I just want my little girl to be a little girl.

The next time you go out to a mall or store, pay attention to the conversations between parents and children. Kids are not settling for second best or nothing. Advertisers know this too. They target the minds of kids. As a result, parents will give in just to quiet their screaming kids.

We recently got rid of cable, limited the video game play and started making the kids play outside. I look out the window to check on them. I noticed that they were using things that they found around the neighborhood to play with. Mostly sticks and rocks, but they were playing. Sticks and rocks are cheap.

I wonder if I can get away with selling their beds?

Peace and God Bless,

Chuck

Saturday, April 03, 2010

Thoughts While in the McDonald's Drive Thru





The other day I was hungry. It was around noon so this was not too odd. What was odd was that I found myself in a rather long line at a McDonald's drive thru. I had time....lots of time. I did my usual playing with the phone routine, checking email and Facebook updates that remarkably hadn't changed in five minutes.. I looked in my rear view mirror and caught the guy behind me with his index finger two joints deep into his nose. “Must have a deviated septum.” I thought. This continued car length after car length until I finally reached the menu board.



Over the years I have noticed the ever changing appearance of the American drive thru. Especially McDonald's. McDonald's hires the best marketing geniuses to bring us such culinary delights like the Chicken McNugget, Double Quarter Pounder, the Dollar Menu and the Mc DLT. That last one came from the the same guys who brought us “New Coke”. What they brought to the table after being fired from Coke was an innate ability to be out of touch with just about every living person on the planet. They were last seen walking out of Microsoft headquarters carrying pink slips for bringing the world Vista. Apparently they make rounds through corporate America forcing their marketing blunders where ever they go.



My first suspicion came when I finally reached the speaker and was greeted, not by a human voice, but by a pre-recorded message asking if I would be interested in whatever the deal of the day was followed by, “Order when ready.”



What the heck was that? I thought, as I proceeded to order.



“I'll have a number three meal with a Coke, and that's all.”



I must say that it was pure genius for McDonald's to steal the Chinese menu method. This must shave at least three seconds off a typical drive thru order. They lose that advantage with what happened next.



The voice on the other end, a human one this time, repeated my order, and then asked if I would be interested in a McFlurry or apple pie. Note that I ended my order with, “...and that's all.” I do this deliberately. You see, I am trying to speed this up as much as they are. I figure if I use little cues like that then maybe they will pick up on that and save me from telling them no when they ask if I would like something else. Really, I had plenty of time to decide what I wanted to order, if I wanted something else I would have ordered it before I said, “...and that's all.” Unfortunately they still ask and each time that is three seconds I will never get back....So it goes..



There used to be a day when you would pull up to the speaker at the drive thru and you were greeted by a sometimes friendly voice. You would then place your order. They would repeat it back to you with your total and you were done. What was missing was the impersonal automated recorded sales pitch for something you never gave any thought to, and the feeling that one gets when approached by a used car salesman.



I think what bothered me most about the whole experience was that my first encounter was with a machine. It was the same frustration I feel when I try to call any business these days. Rarely are we greeted by a human voice anymore. Usually we are picked up at the third ring by an automated voice answering system that runs us through a list of options to get us to yet another automated voice with it's own set of options, and so on, and so on, etc, yada yada hey.



Over the years we have lost a connectedness that, at times, I think, we will never get back. Texting has replaced phone calls. Most social interaction can be done from the comfort of our home through social networks like Facebook and Myspace. These tools are great. I use them like everyone else and have caught up with people that I lost contact with over twenty years ago. They are great ways to keep in touch, but we need real connections as well. You can't share a meal with someone on Myspace. You can't receive a hug on Facebook, though they do have that poke feature that creeps me out. C'mon, why would something that would get you punched in the real world be acceptable in the cyber world?



I left that McDonald's drive thru with a number three and a Coke, and a whole lot of unresolved issues with the direction society is going.



Maybe I would have been better if I just watched the guy pick his nose a little longer.



It is what it is......

Thoughts While in the McDonald's Drive Thru



The other day I was hungry. It was around noon so this was not too odd. What was odd was that I found myself in a rather long line at a McDonald's drive thru. I had time....lots of time. I did my usual playing with the phone routine, checking email and Facebook updates that remarkably hadn't changed in five minutes.. I looked in my rear view mirror and caught the guy behind me with his index finger two joints deep into his nose. “Must have a deviated septum.” I thought. This continued car length after car length until I finally reached the menu board.


Over the years I have noticed the ever changing appearance of the American drive thru. Especially McDonald's. McDonald's hires the best marketing geniuses to bring us such culinary delights like the Chicken McNugget, Double Quarter Pounder, the Dollar Menu and the Mc DLT. That last one came from the the same guys who brought us “New Coke”. What they brought to the table after being fired from Coke was an innate ability to be out of touch with just about every living person on the planet. They were last seen walking out of Microsoft headquarters carrying pink slips for bringing the world Vista. Apparently they make rounds through corporate America forcing their marketing blunders where ever they go.


My first suspicion came when I finally reached the speaker and was greeted, not by a human voice, but by a pre-recorded message asking if I would be interested in whatever the deal of the day was followed by, “Order when ready.”


What the heck was that? I thought, as I proceeded to order.


“I'll have a number three meal with a Coke, and that's all.”


I must say that it was pure genius for McDonald's to steal the Chinese menu method. This must shave at least three seconds off a typical drive thru order. They lose that advantage with what happened next.


The voice on the other end, a human one this time, repeated my order, and then asked if I would be interested in a McFlurry or apple pie. Note that I ended my order with, “...and that's all.” I do this deliberately. You see, I am trying to speed this up as much as they are. I figure if I use little cues like that then maybe they will pick up on that and save me from telling them no when they ask if I would like something else. Really, I had plenty of time to decide what I wanted to order, if I wanted something else I would have ordered it before I said, “...and that's all.” Unfortunately they still ask and each time that is three seconds I will never get back....So it goes..


There used to be a day when you would pull up to the speaker at the drive thru and you were greeted by a sometimes friendly voice. You would then place your order. They would repeat it back to you with your total and you were done. What was missing was the impersonal automated recorded sales pitch for something you never gave any thought to, and the feeling that one gets when approached by a used car salesman.


I think what bothered me most about the whole experience was that my first encounter was with a machine. It was the same frustration I feel when I try to call any business these days. Rarely are we greeted by a human voice anymore. Usually we are picked up at the third ring by an automated voice answering system that runs us through a list of options to get us to yet another automated voice with it's own set of options, and so on, and so on, etc, yada yada hey.


Over the years we have lost a connectedness that, at times, I think, we will never get back. Texting has replaced phone calls. Most social interaction can be done from the comfort of our home through social networks like Facebook and Myspace. These tools are great. I use them like everyone else and have caught up with people that I lost contact with over twenty years ago. They are great ways to keep in touch, but we need real connections as well. You can't share a meal with someone on Myspace. You can't receive a hug on Facebook, though they do have that poke feature that creeps me out. C'mon, why would something that would get you punched in the real world be acceptable in the cyber world?


I left that McDonald's drive thru with a number three and a Coke, and a whole lot of unresolved issues with the direction society is going.


Maybe I would have been better if I just watched the guy pick his nose a little longer.


It is what it is......

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Things to think about while I ponder about things.....Mental Multi-Tasking

O.K. I am not too sure that I can go with this one. I am all for napping on long flights. I'm not too sure that it's a good idea for pilots...read here.


That's what I say...read here

Do we really want this kind of technology in the hands of some guy wanting to power his huntin' cabin? read here

These are fom Guatemala City. The side that rarely makes the news here. pictures here

I am writing more and will post more soon. These are things that I have been thinking about as a result of surfing the web.

Things to think about while I ponder about things.....Mental Multi-Tasking

O.K. I am not too sure that I can go with this one. I am all for napping on long flights. I'm not too sure that it's a good idea for pilots...read here.


That's what I say...read here

Do we really want this kind of technology in the hands of some guy wanting to power his huntin' cabin? read here

These are fom Guatemala City. The side that rarely makes the news here. pictures here

I am writing more and will post more soon. These are things that I have been thinking about as a result of surfing the web.

Saturday, July 04, 2009

Help, The Anointing Has Lifted and I Can’t Make It To My Limo!

Note: This is a very rough draft of one chapter of a book I am writing called "For Real, Being Real in an Unreal Church". It is, like the rest of the book, unfinished. I wanted to post this because this is what is going on in my head right now.


Shortly after we were saved, after the glory cloud lifted and we started seeing that even though they were in church, people were still people; we had the chance to see the inner workings of a real life, not too sure how biblical, pastor search committee. During this time we saw a variety of “preachers” come to audition. It was during this time that I realized that a majority of preachers and pastors are full of themselves, especially the self proclaimed bishops, evangelists prophets.

After one such “audition” the prospective pastor, an over the top spitting, screaming towel carrying man o’God called the worship team to play during the altar call. Somewhere between then and the mad rush to Applebee’s this guy ducked out the side door into the office across the hall. As we, the guardians of truth and all that is holy, known as the search committee filed into the office we saw this guy with head in hands looking as if he ran a marathon. When asked how he was his rely was, “The anointing really takes it out of me.” Being a new Christian at the tome, I didn’t read too much into it. But his words stuck with me.

From Easton’s 1897 Bible Dictionary one form of anointing “was also an act of hospitality (Luke 7:38, 46). It was the custom of the Jews in like manner to anoint themselves with oil, as a means of refreshing or invigorating their bodies (Deut. 28:40; Ruth 3:3; 2 Sam. 14:2; Ps. 104:15, etc.). This custom is continued among the Arabians to the present day. (emphasis mine)


As I look back I realized that this guy was more about his power, and not too much about God. If this man were truly anointed he would have the energy to do what God set before him. I’m pretty sure that hiding from the people after service was not part of God’s plan for this man.

I read an article from J. Lee Grady recently titled Reality Check: The Case For Relational Christianity. The following is an excerpt from that article.


A friend in Alabama recently told me about a preacher who came to his city in unusual style. The man arrived at a church in a limousine and was whisked into a private waiting room behind the stage area. The evangelist gave specific instructions to leave his limousine's engine running (I guess he wasn't concerned about rising gas prices) so that the temperature inside his car would remain constant.

This evangelist then preached to a waiting crowd, took up his own offering and retired to the waiting room for some refreshments. Then he left the church with his entourage without even speaking to the host pastor.
Reality Check: The Case for Relational Christianity June 23, 2009


It was the combination of my encounter with the anointed pastor and J. Lee Grady’s article that gave me the title, and got me to thinking (again) about the absurd heights we place church leaders.

We have created a cult of personality within the church. We have taken 1 Samuel 26:9 But David said to Abishai, “Do not destroy him; for who can stretch out his hand against the LORD’s anointed, and be guiltless?” (New King James Version) and let charlatans and wolves into our churches, all the while living in fear that hail the size of VW Bugs and lightning will hit us if we dare question anything, cause you know there is that part in the bible where David had the chance to kill Saul, but didn’t, so somehow that applies to the new covenant. (There is also 1 Chronicles 16:22 and Psalm 105:15 that really have no connection to today’s modern church) This gives these leaders carte blanche to do whatever they please without any fear of real consequence in this life.

Another thing that happens to these untouchables is sad and regrettably avoidable if there were such a thing as accountability, and that's sin. A result of placing these people into these elevated celebrity status is that they are left alone, to their own devices and eventually end up in some sort of sin that shocks us and makes us recoil in disbelief saying, “But aren’t they God’s anointed?”

We have heard countless stories of pastors having marriage problems, infidelity issues, porn addiction, runaway children, etc. These issues, and countless others have kept leaders isolated felling like they can’t tell anyone they are human and they need help because, after all, aren’t they God’s anointed?

We need, as J. Lee Grady puts it, a reality check

Help, The Anointing Has Lifted and I Can’t Make It To My Limo!

Note: This is a very rough draft of one chapter of a book I am writing called "For Real, Being Real in an Unreal Church". It is, like the rest of the book, unfinished. I wanted to post this because this is what is going on in my head right now.


Shortly after we were saved, after the glory cloud lifted and we started seeing that even though they were in church, people were still people; we had the chance to see the inner workings of a real life, not too sure how biblical, pastor search committee. During this time we saw a variety of “preachers” come to audition. It was during this time that I realized that a majority of preachers and pastors are full of themselves, especially the self proclaimed bishops, evangelists prophets.

After one such “audition” the prospective pastor, an over the top spitting, screaming towel carrying man o’God called the worship team to play during the altar call. Somewhere between then and the mad rush to Applebee’s this guy ducked out the side door into the office across the hall. As we, the guardians of truth and all that is holy, known as the search committee filed into the office we saw this guy with head in hands looking as if he ran a marathon. When asked how he was his rely was, “The anointing really takes it out of me.” Being a new Christian at the tome, I didn’t read too much into it. But his words stuck with me.

From Easton’s 1897 Bible Dictionary one form of anointing “was also an act of hospitality (Luke 7:38, 46). It was the custom of the Jews in like manner to anoint themselves with oil, as a means of refreshing or invigorating their bodies (Deut. 28:40; Ruth 3:3; 2 Sam. 14:2; Ps. 104:15, etc.). This custom is continued among the Arabians to the present day. (emphasis mine)


As I look back I realized that this guy was more about his power, and not too much about God. If this man were truly anointed he would have the energy to do what God set before him. I’m pretty sure that hiding from the people after service was not part of God’s plan for this man.

I read an article from J. Lee Grady recently titled Reality Check: The Case For Relational Christianity. The following is an excerpt from that article.


A friend in Alabama recently told me about a preacher who came to his city in unusual style. The man arrived at a church in a limousine and was whisked into a private waiting room behind the stage area. The evangelist gave specific instructions to leave his limousine's engine running (I guess he wasn't concerned about rising gas prices) so that the temperature inside his car would remain constant.

This evangelist then preached to a waiting crowd, took up his own offering and retired to the waiting room for some refreshments. Then he left the church with his entourage without even speaking to the host pastor.
Reality Check: The Case for Relational Christianity June 23, 2009


It was the combination of my encounter with the anointed pastor and J. Lee Grady’s article that gave me the title, and got me to thinking (again) about the absurd heights we place church leaders.

We have created a cult of personality within the church. We have taken 1 Samuel 26:9 But David said to Abishai, “Do not destroy him; for who can stretch out his hand against the LORD’s anointed, and be guiltless?” (New King James Version) and let charlatans and wolves into our churches, all the while living in fear that hail the size of VW Bugs and lightning will hit us if we dare question anything, cause you know there is that part in the bible where David had the chance to kill Saul, but didn’t, so somehow that applies to the new covenant. (There is also 1 Chronicles 16:22 and Psalm 105:15 that really have no connection to today’s modern church) This gives these leaders carte blanche to do whatever they please without any fear of real consequence in this life.

Another thing that happens to these untouchables is sad and regrettably avoidable if there were such a thing as accountability, and that's sin. A result of placing these people into these elevated celebrity status is that they are left alone, to their own devices and eventually end up in some sort of sin that shocks us and makes us recoil in disbelief saying, “But aren’t they God’s anointed?”

We have heard countless stories of pastors having marriage problems, infidelity issues, porn addiction, runaway children, etc. These issues, and countless others have kept leaders isolated felling like they can’t tell anyone they are human and they need help because, after all, aren’t they God’s anointed?

We need, as J. Lee Grady puts it, a reality check

Friday, July 25, 2008

Stuff Breaks

So, the other day my truck broke. No big deal other than I am using our car to go to work. That is not that bad either seeing that I am closing shop here and I won't have the awkwardness of pulling up to a customers house in a 1998 Buick Regal. Nothing instills confidence in your general contractor like him pulling up in a car.

My truck goes in the shop on Thursday. My van is disabled and going to be sold on Monday. Our computer crashed for the last time, but that is ok, the library is a couple of blocks away, and I have a smart phone.(Now if the owner of the smart phone were smart enough to use it) My laptop is about to give up the ghost, and our can opener is junk.

All of this would make most people think I am cursed. Yet upon further investigation I can sum it up with: Old stuff breaks.

My truck is nine years old and has 125,000 miles on it.
My van is a 1980 E150.
My computer is six years old.
My laptop is just as old.
My can opener came from Dollar General.

So let me rephrase that: Old stuff and crap breaks. It is a curse to be sure. It is the same curse that we are all under. Beating our heads whenever something fails is not only senseless, it's stupid. Ain't no Charlie Brown woe is me going on here. I will just wade through the muck and mire to come out victorious, praising God.

Time out-let's get something clear
I speak-more truth than you want to hear
Scapegoat-to cover up your fear, you can't bring me

You ain't-never seen so much might
Fight for-what I know is right
What up-you got yourself a fight, you can't bring me

Stand up-we'll all sing along
Together-ain't nothin' as strong
Won't quit-we ain't in the wrong, you can't bring me

You...can't...bring...me...down!

Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down, no!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me
down, you can't bring me down!

S.T. You Can't Bring Me Down

Stuff Breaks

So, the other day my truck broke. No big deal other than I am using our car to go to work. That is not that bad either seeing that I am closing shop here and I won't have the awkwardness of pulling up to a customers house in a 1998 Buick Regal. Nothing instills confidence in your general contractor like him pulling up in a car.

My truck goes in the shop on Thursday. My van is disabled and going to be sold on Monday. Our computer crashed for the last time, but that is ok, the library is a couple of blocks away, and I have a smart phone.(Now if the owner of the smart phone were smart enough to use it) My laptop is about to give up the ghost, and our can opener is junk.

All of this would make most people think I am cursed. Yet upon further investigation I can sum it up with: Old stuff breaks.

My truck is nine years old and has 125,000 miles on it.
My van is a 1980 E150.
My computer is six years old.
My laptop is just as old.
My can opener came from Dollar General.

So let me rephrase that: Old stuff and crap breaks. It is a curse to be sure. It is the same curse that we are all under. Beating our heads whenever something fails is not only senseless, it's stupid. Ain't no Charlie Brown woe is me going on here. I will just wade through the muck and mire to come out victorious, praising God.

Time out-let's get something clear
I speak-more truth than you want to hear
Scapegoat-to cover up your fear, you can't bring me

You ain't-never seen so much might
Fight for-what I know is right
What up-you got yourself a fight, you can't bring me

Stand up-we'll all sing along
Together-ain't nothin' as strong
Won't quit-we ain't in the wrong, you can't bring me

You...can't...bring...me...down!

Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down, no!
Bring me down-you can't bring me down!
Bring me down-you can't bring me
down, you can't bring me down!

S.T. You Can't Bring Me Down

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

I like Mike.. Mitt's a loon, and I can prove it

It appears that Mike Huckabee is taking a heat round for his comments about Mormonism. You can read the story here. I fully agree with Mike in that they, (the Mormons) are a huge flippin' cult. Any religion that makes you wear funny undergarments, and doesn't believe that the Bible is the final authority is a cult.

Over the years we have had our fair share of nut cases coming to our door in pairs with their backpacks and squeaky clean dress, trying to sell us a bill of goods that will literally burn in Hell. They have stopped coming by. I think that they have our picture on the wall of those who will try and turn you away from us. I miss the company. I really like hitting a brick wall in conversation. I equally enjoy asking the hard questions that make them squirm in their funny underwear. In all seriousness though, I like planting the seed of truth.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't have anything other than the fact that they are wrong, against the Mormons. Back in the day I was known to watch the Donnie and Marie show. I just can't take a grown man seriously when I know that he is wearing his special underwear.

Now, before it gets out, I would like to admit to having a pair of special underwear. The reason they are special to me is that my children bought them for me. They are a pair of boxers with a tool belt and tools printed on them. Along the waistband there is "Mr. Fixit" written in white letters on a black background. The only time I wear them happens when I have absolutely no others clean.

Somehow it's not the same...

I like Mike.. Mitt's a loon, and I can prove it

It appears that Mike Huckabee is taking a heat round for his comments about Mormonism. You can read the story here. I fully agree with Mike in that they, (the Mormons) are a huge flippin' cult. Any religion that makes you wear funny undergarments, and doesn't believe that the Bible is the final authority is a cult.

Over the years we have had our fair share of nut cases coming to our door in pairs with their backpacks and squeaky clean dress, trying to sell us a bill of goods that will literally burn in Hell. They have stopped coming by. I think that they have our picture on the wall of those who will try and turn you away from us. I miss the company. I really like hitting a brick wall in conversation. I equally enjoy asking the hard questions that make them squirm in their funny underwear. In all seriousness though, I like planting the seed of truth.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't have anything other than the fact that they are wrong, against the Mormons. Back in the day I was known to watch the Donnie and Marie show. I just can't take a grown man seriously when I know that he is wearing his special underwear.

Now, before it gets out, I would like to admit to having a pair of special underwear. The reason they are special to me is that my children bought them for me. They are a pair of boxers with a tool belt and tools printed on them. Along the waistband there is "Mr. Fixit" written in white letters on a black background. The only time I wear them happens when I have absolutely no others clean.

Somehow it's not the same...

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Royal Order of the Lamb's Ear (or, What Kids Do Without TV)

Some time ago we made a decision to have only one TV. We also decided to never again buy cable or satellite service. Since we decided to make such a drastic lifestyle change (how does TV become a lifestyle?) we figured that we should go all the way and have the smallest TV we could all watch without getting headaches. We opted for a 13 inch TV/ VCR combo that my dad bought the kids when he lived with us. Dad loved TV and really thought that everyone should as well.

Now, when you make such decisions you must also limit the use of it. That part is easy to do around these here parts. You should consider yourself blessed(?) if you can get a good signal from one of five stations (2 of which are PBS. hee hee). It becomes a case of why bother, when sitting down to watch a show. You will find yourself getting up a few times to adjust the antenna. This aggravates kids as well, so they will invariably end up doing one of 2 things.

1. Beat the tar out of each other.
2. make stuff with common building materials and your neighbor's plants.

After Mom sends them outside for #1, they are left to their own devices, and Dad's shed of stuff.

For the last week I have come home to various forms of unique weapons of no destruction sitting on my back patio. One particularly ingenious item is the shield that Noah has been sporting for the last couple of days. It is made from cardboard, packing tape, duct tape and our neighbor's lamb's ear plant.

When I asked Noah about the plant on his shield he told me that it was for his new club. "What club is that?" I ask.

"The Royal Order of the Lamb's Ear."

Should have known.


2 Valiant Warriors


Hunting Dragons (no doubt)


Lamb's Ear Plunder

Royal Order of the Lamb's Ear (or, What Kids Do Without TV)

Some time ago we made a decision to have only one TV. We also decided to never again buy cable or satellite service. Since we decided to make such a drastic lifestyle change (how does TV become a lifestyle?) we figured that we should go all the way and have the smallest TV we could all watch without getting headaches. We opted for a 13 inch TV/ VCR combo that my dad bought the kids when he lived with us. Dad loved TV and really thought that everyone should as well.

Now, when you make such decisions you must also limit the use of it. That part is easy to do around these here parts. You should consider yourself blessed(?) if you can get a good signal from one of five stations (2 of which are PBS. hee hee). It becomes a case of why bother, when sitting down to watch a show. You will find yourself getting up a few times to adjust the antenna. This aggravates kids as well, so they will invariably end up doing one of 2 things.

1. Beat the tar out of each other.
2. make stuff with common building materials and your neighbor's plants.

After Mom sends them outside for #1, they are left to their own devices, and Dad's shed of stuff.

For the last week I have come home to various forms of unique weapons of no destruction sitting on my back patio. One particularly ingenious item is the shield that Noah has been sporting for the last couple of days. It is made from cardboard, packing tape, duct tape and our neighbor's lamb's ear plant.

When I asked Noah about the plant on his shield he told me that it was for his new club. "What club is that?" I ask.

"The Royal Order of the Lamb's Ear."

Should have known.


2 Valiant Warriors


Hunting Dragons (no doubt)


Lamb's Ear Plunder

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Legislated Morality

With the recent passing of Jerry Falwell, I find myself thinking about the state of our country and how far we have fallen into sin. I agree with the Moral Majority (and the Moral Majority Coalition) in saying that America has turned from God. However, that is where we part ways. More and more I find myself seeing the futility of trying to legislate morality. We cannot tell people how to live. When we do we come of as arrogant wind bags who come off as caring less, and showing a tainted picture of Christ to those perishing.

I do believe that we can voice our opinion. Although we also need to seek God, and not political leaders. Only God can change the hearts of those in leadership, and ultimately, everybody else. The answer is fasting and prayer. Our lobby is with God.

In the next week we will be starting a 40 day fast which will culminate in a massive gathering of intercessors in Nashville. The Call. It is my prayer that millions of Christians will stop trying to get the attention of politicians, and petition the Lord.

This is a call to action!

Legislated Morality

With the recent passing of Jerry Falwell, I find myself thinking about the state of our country and how far we have fallen into sin. I agree with the Moral Majority (and the Moral Majority Coalition) in saying that America has turned from God. However, that is where we part ways. More and more I find myself seeing the futility of trying to legislate morality. We cannot tell people how to live. When we do we come of as arrogant wind bags who come off as caring less, and showing a tainted picture of Christ to those perishing.

I do believe that we can voice our opinion. Although we also need to seek God, and not political leaders. Only God can change the hearts of those in leadership, and ultimately, everybody else. The answer is fasting and prayer. Our lobby is with God.

In the next week we will be starting a 40 day fast which will culminate in a massive gathering of intercessors in Nashville. The Call. It is my prayer that millions of Christians will stop trying to get the attention of politicians, and petition the Lord.

This is a call to action!

Monday, May 15, 2006
































Josiah went to the Thill's house a few days ago. When he came back he had this really cool sword made from old pallets. This thing has splinters and tetnus written all over it. I am going to make a dumpster deposit as I leave in the morning. He and his friends get an A for creativity, and a C+ in health.

There was a picture here of a blue betta. I had to remove it because apparently there was a copyright infringement of some sort. Sorry to those who have the copyright. It really is a nice picture though.
Fish Update:Myah and I went to Petco to get a fish. I must have had dolt written accross my forehead because no sooner had I asked the sales associate to get a fish I was bombarded with questions like, "what kind of tank do you have?", "Sir, what kind of commitment are you willing to make?". I told the guy about our Oscar fiasco the day before and, after laughing, he showed me to the Beta fish. I remebered that Chastity had a Beta while we were dating that she had neglected. I had no idea there was a fish in the bowl because the water had not been changed in 100 years or so. Sewage treatment plants have better water clarity than that bowl did. So, a Beta it is. This thing should live for a few decades. Not even the Scott family can kill this thing.

Some Beta facts:
They are sometimes refered to as Japanese Fighting Fish. I am guessing this is the Japanese equivalent of a cock fight. The males look like some kind of Bantum rooster. Don't ask how I know what a Bantum rooster looks like.

Betas don't like to look at themselves in the mirror. This makes it economical to train them for the big fight, not that I am going to hit the circuit or anything like that.

I found out that you can buy special Beta tanks that have dividers. There is a special tinted insert to keep the fiesty little filet o' fishys from going at it.When you pull out the tinted divider it's Beta time.

All we have is a fish bowl, and I don't think that Myah has any aspirations toward fish fighting glory. I don't have the energy to become the Don King of the aquatic world. I'll be good to feed it.




































Josiah went to the Thill's house a few days ago. When he came back he had this really cool sword made from old pallets. This thing has splinters and tetnus written all over it. I am going to make a dumpster deposit as I leave in the morning. He and his friends get an A for creativity, and a C+ in health.

There was a picture here of a blue betta. I had to remove it because apparently there was a copyright infringement of some sort. Sorry to those who have the copyright. It really is a nice picture though.
Fish Update:Myah and I went to Petco to get a fish. I must have had dolt written accross my forehead because no sooner had I asked the sales associate to get a fish I was bombarded with questions like, "what kind of tank do you have?", "Sir, what kind of commitment are you willing to make?". I told the guy about our Oscar fiasco the day before and, after laughing, he showed me to the Beta fish. I remebered that Chastity had a Beta while we were dating that she had neglected. I had no idea there was a fish in the bowl because the water had not been changed in 100 years or so. Sewage treatment plants have better water clarity than that bowl did. So, a Beta it is. This thing should live for a few decades. Not even the Scott family can kill this thing.

Some Beta facts:
They are sometimes refered to as Japanese Fighting Fish. I am guessing this is the Japanese equivalent of a cock fight. The males look like some kind of Bantum rooster. Don't ask how I know what a Bantum rooster looks like.

Betas don't like to look at themselves in the mirror. This makes it economical to train them for the big fight, not that I am going to hit the circuit or anything like that.

I found out that you can buy special Beta tanks that have dividers. There is a special tinted insert to keep the fiesty little filet o' fishys from going at it.When you pull out the tinted divider it's Beta time.

All we have is a fish bowl, and I don't think that Myah has any aspirations toward fish fighting glory. I don't have the energy to become the Don King of the aquatic world. I'll be good to feed it.





Friday, March 10, 2006






This is a book that I am reading right now. I have taken the advice of Randy and picked a biography. Revolutionaries still appeal to me after all of these years. I just want to know what makes them tick. My favorite revolutionary, Jesus. He has been changing lives for over 2000 years.









I am going to go watch this movie and go to bed...





This is a book that I am reading right now. I have taken the advice of Randy and picked a biography. Revolutionaries still appeal to me after all of these years. I just want to know what makes them tick. My favorite revolutionary, Jesus. He has been changing lives for over 2000 years.









I am going to go watch this movie and go to bed...

Sunday, March 05, 2006

Socialist


92%

Anarchism


67%

Communism


67%

Democrat


58%

Green


33%

Republican


17%

Nazi


0%

Fascism


0%


Dare you to take this one .

Be Honest....

Socialist


92%

Anarchism


67%

Communism


67%

Democrat


58%

Green


33%

Republican


17%

Nazi


0%

Fascism


0%


Dare you to take this one .

Be Honest....

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Watched part of Motorcycle Diaries last night. I fell asleep about 3/4 into the movie. I liked what I did watch. As some of you may know, I have a fondness for Latin America. That is me Mestizo . I also have a fondness for politics. That would be my mother and father in me. Freakin' rebels that they were. More dad than mom. Che has always been somewhat of an inspiration to me. I admire people that can stick to their convictions (even if they are wrong). That is something that you don't see too much in people these days. Mostly people will line up with a cause because it looks cool. Case in point, Paul McCartney wearing a white Make Poverty History band. If he wanted to make poverty history he would give it away, give it away give it away now..He would also ask Micahel Jackson for the rights to his old Beatles songs..

I am done ranting for now. I will leave with this request.

Buy me a goat!

chuck
Watched part of Motorcycle Diaries last night. I fell asleep about 3/4 into the movie. I liked what I did watch. As some of you may know, I have a fondness for Latin America. That is me Mestizo . I also have a fondness for politics. That would be my mother and father in me. Freakin' rebels that they were. More dad than mom. Che has always been somewhat of an inspiration to me. I admire people that can stick to their convictions (even if they are wrong). That is something that you don't see too much in people these days. Mostly people will line up with a cause because it looks cool. Case in point, Paul McCartney wearing a white Make Poverty History band. If he wanted to make poverty history he would give it away, give it away give it away now..He would also ask Micahel Jackson for the rights to his old Beatles songs..

I am done ranting for now. I will leave with this request.

Buy me a goat!

chuck