From the church bulletin ...

Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the St. Martin's Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.

The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.

The sermon this morning: "Jesus Walks on the Water." The sermon tonight: "Searching for Jesus"

Our youth basketball team is back in action Wednesday at 8 PM in the recreation hall. Come out and watch us kill Christ the King.

Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Don't forget your husbands.

The peacemaking meeting scheduled for today has been cancelled due to a conflict.

Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say "Hell" to someone who doesn't care much about you.

Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.

Miss Charlene Mason sang "I will not pass this way again," giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.

For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.

Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.

Barbara remains in the hospital and needs blood donors for more transfusions. She is also having trouble sleeping and requests tapes of Father Jack's sermons.

The Priest will preach his farewell message after which the choir will sing "Break Forth Into Joy."

Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.

At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be "What Is Hell?" Come early and listen to our choir practice.

Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.

Scouts are saving aluminums cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.

Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.

The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility.

Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.

The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.

This evening at 7 PM there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.

Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM . All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B.S. is done.

The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.

Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM . Please use the back door.

The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the church basement Friday at 7 PM . The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.

The Priest unveiled the church's new tithing campaign slogan last Sunday: "I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours"

If we let X=X ...

Here's a little mathematical formula I got from Misty in Georgia (angels help her :-) I found interesting:

If:
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Is represented as:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 1 9 20 21 22 23 24 25 26.

Then:

H-A-R-D-W-O-R- K
8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%

And

K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E
11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%

But

A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E
1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%

Then, look how far the love of God will take you

L- O- V- E-O-F-G-O-D

12+15+22+5+15+6+7+15+4 = 101%

Numbers don't lie.

Defining Moments

In one of my favorite books, Into the Wild, author Jon Krakauer takes a brief intermission from the title story to relate the grand revelation, or rather the lack of one, he experienced after a harrowing effort to become the first man to climb a treacherous, nearly verticle needle of rock and ice in the remote Alaskan wilderness.

Prior to making the solo, unassisted attempt Krakauer had imagined his haphazard, directionless life would suddenly focus and acquire the uber-meaning he so desperately sought. After weeks of planning, back-tracking and mistakes, and after scaring himself half-silly and almost dying, literally, Krakauer finally reached the summit and achieved his life-long goal.

But after climbing down and hiking back to civilization no one was much impressed by his achievement. Krakauer was stunned and disheartened because So what? was hardly the reaction he'd hoped for ... especially after risking his life to become "the first man ever."

Accomplishing the goal in itself proved not to be enough to satisfy the emptiness inside. What he'd been seeking as a mountaineer, through achievement and acclaim, was external affirmation and a sense of self-worth. That he was willing to risk death to earn value for his life is beyond ironic.

It's like saying, "I'm not risking my life doing this, not really, because my life isn't worth anything as it is. But I expect that to change if I succeed in what I'm attempting ... and people will finally take notice and shower me with the adoration I've always deserved."

Krakauer learned life doesn't quite work that way, and went straight back to his job as a day laborer wondering how he'd so mistakenly overestimated the importance of doing the one big thing ... and why he hadn't been greeted as a conquering hero, not even after finally achieving his life-time goal to be the first.

The sartorial door he'd expected to an exciting new future had opened inward instead, and revealed that his achievement had changed neither the world nor himself after all. The goal he'd pursued only had significance for himself; probably everyone else was just too busy chasing theirs to notice or care.

Unasikia mimi sasa?

This morning while I was waiting on Mike and Josh at The Fruit Punch I tried calling Vernon on my cell.

Who knew you could direct-dial Tanzania with a cheapo, pay-as-you-go phone like mine ... and get crystal clear reception?

Very cool ... even though I had to blame "static" for my rusty Swahili. Eeeeh.

--

For fun:

Hawalisikii
Hawalisikii
Lakini mlisikia
Na mlisikia.

They do not hear it
They do not feel it
But you all heard
And you all understood.

Hello Roamer

Do It Yourself

Today the technological gnomes at AVCLUB.US posted a cool link to a site called HowStuffWorks.com

HowStuffWorks includes helpful advices on Autos, Computers, Electronics, Entertainment and Health for all the would-be do-it-yourselfers out there.

Here's a few additional helpful sites I'd like to see:

FindAllTheNewLeaks.com
WhyBoatsBreak.com
WhyFixingItYourselfIsABadIdea.com
ReadTheInstructionsFirst.com
WhyElectricityIsPainful.com
WhyToolsFallOverboard.com
OptimismIsAPersonalityIssue.com
WhatJustHappened.com
UhOh.com

Ready or not

Thanks this morning to Brent Sears for passing this along from Tony Morgan's blog:

10 Signs You're not Ready for Change

1. You see other organizations as the competition instead of the idea incubators.
2. You're trying to avoid criticism that comes when you fail...and when you succeed.
3. You're afraid of the culture.
4. Your life is fast and cluttered and there's no space to dream.
5. You value getting it right over getting started.
6. You believe conflict is a bad thing.
7. You've stopped asking questions.
8. You think systems and strategy are the enemy of creativity.
9. You're expecting to receive credit for your ideas.
10. You think you've already arrived.

Brent- I couldn't help but notice you haven't posted anything new at Five Porches since 11/14/06. Don't make me have to drive up there ... because that would be remarkably bad and significantly unpleasant. :-)

Hosed

Seems like I spent all morning drilling holes, through cabinetry and bulkheads, for a high-pressure propane gas hose to replace Ben's original copper oven/stove supply line.

Just as I was getting good n' aggravated (and not just with my ineptitude) Tatiana called on my cell. Then as I went to sit down on the swimstep I misjudged the distance and, in nearly stumbling off the deck and falling onto the driveway, managed to almost break my left big toe.

Naaah, go on. It's broken. I just haven't taken my shoe off to look yet. Maybe it's the same one I broke last year; I can't remember.

Tatiana gasped and asked in perfectly unaccented English, "Oh, no! Did you throw your back out?"

Hmmm. I gotta memo self to find out more about that and what it means.

But there's two things here worth mentioning. (1) I didn't say any bad words, and Tatiana is my witness (2) Breaking your big toe has its own special way of making you forget all about being aggravated over something else even though the thing that had you aggravated seemed monstrously large and imposing at the time.

Yaaa, and the stove works now, too.

shutting the door to the kingdom

Sometimes it must seem like I'm in love with the keyboard, and can't stand to drag myself away from long-winded diatribes. But this time I'm forcing myself to leave out the gristle.

During dinner I heard a second-hand account that a woman and her son had recently visited a traditional large-denomination church in our community. During the service the woman had opened her New Living Translation Bible to follow the sermon... and afterwards was cautioned not to bring "that book" again, because only the King James Version was acceptable.

I forgot to mention her son wore jeans to church. She was told "the church has a fund to buy clothes for people who can't afford them."

In other words if you don't like the way we do things, which is the same legalistic self-serving way we've always done things to glorify ourselves in our self-righteousness, then you can go to hell for all we care.

Recap of an Amazing Week

At Warp Factor 3 please, Mister Zulu ...

Heard from Sunday's plank person

Met ORP's fiance L

AF and FF (who also got a new horse) went back to school
(Hey FF, you been dating Shawn for 3 years ... ain't it about time I met him?! Say :-)

Watched the first show of this season's American Idol over at DJ's

The Key West Kid was spared the Dock 4 Break-In Mayhem

Took The Kid out to Zombie Island and back, a 90-minute roundtrip at night in a freezing rain storm, without misshap

Started Text Messenging

Saw TPW

The poor Roamer's still on the bottom

Started a great new book that I want to read as slowly as possible, to make it last longer

Began 15 new projects that remain incomplete

Joined Text Messengers Anonymous

Still clueless about Ben's overhead leaks

Reminded again that God answers prayers & that he, like his plan, is always bigger than all of us

Alls's Well That Ends Well

Crazy Nut

Last night while every grocery and convenience store in the Upstate was jammed with shoppers frightened of being snow-bound through June without having every cupboard and cabinet space stocked full of bread n' milk, your diligent correspondent made other plans.

That's right, I fired up The Kid and headed out to Zombie. In the frigid wind and freezing rain. And it was an awesome ride.

Not a single boat in sight anywhere, no finding a pesky houseboat full of loud drunks already anchored in my favorite cove, no bassboats creating uncomfortable wakes ahead of me. When I arrived I merely switched off the engine, slipped the anchor over the side, and fired up the CD player.

Stayed out for about an hour before the cold began sinking in and decided it was time to head back.

The Kid loved it and ran like a champ.

I wondered if anybody in the cars crossing the double-bridges looked out, saw The Kid's red and green navigation lights far out on the lake and wondered, "What kind of crazy nut is out in a boat at this hour in this kind of weather?"

Well, whatever.

Hard-core bikers who live and breath to ride, the guys with leather jackets and big Harleys who're used to feeling the wind in their faces and the engine thundering beneath them, who've seen the world roll by without air bags, seat belts and metal fenders to protect them, have a special disdain for cars. They call cars "cages."

For more than a handful of good reasons, I sometimes think. Last night was one of them.

Hello Miss Scarlet

What a sweetheart. This is FF's new horse, Scarlet Mimosa.



T.H. Southern Dawn
1988-December 2006Papa Loves that Pony Playlist:
All Through the Night - Donna Summer

Mayhem

Yesterday afternoon somebody broke into one of the boats at my dock and stole some of the electronics onboard.

They came back last night and ransacked essentially every boat on the dock, stealing radios, stereos, TVs, anything that could be sold quickly for an easy profit. A team of deputies and a forensic unit spent the entire day taking photographs and collecting evidence. One owner told me he estimated the damage to his boat alone was at least $25,000. And there was more than enough damage to go around.

Lots of bad words, angry people and sour faces swarming around the dock today.

One of the two suspects was apprehended around 8 AM this morning after being identified by witnesses ... allegedly he was in possesion of a handgun.

When I arrived one of the deputies took me aside and said, "Looks like he got yours worst of all. Man, he totally trashed it." You can imagine how my heart sank. But then ...

Remember me saying "essentially every boat on the dock"? But not mine. He left The Kid untouched. What the deputy didn't realize is that my little boat's interior always looks trashed. Or Totally Trashed, in forensic terms. Because she's "undergoing rennovation."

Right.

Heck, I'd even removed one of the windows overnight to have the cracked glass replaced, figuring nobody was dumb enough to come back and strike twice in two days. All the guy had to do was come aboard and climb inside.

But the culprit left The Kid untouched ... probably less from altruism and more from pity because my poor boat is a floating junk pile after all, or maybe because he thought she'd sink with his extra weight onboard. Maybe he thought he'd slip and get strangled by the loose speaker wires dangling from the ceiling (that is, if The Kid even had a ceiling under her exposed joists).

Which forced me to endure a long afternoon of ribbing from other owners who teased, "I'm surprised the guy didn't break into your boat just to give you some of the stuff he stole from ours."

I'm not sure whether to feel blessed or insulted but I think this one's an easy call.

Poor Kid. Just makes me love her that much more.

Let Me Get This Straight

Are you telling me you actually believe there's always been this invisible, omniscient spirit throughout the universe ... a supernatural being that created mankind from dirt, who came to earth 2000 years ago in the form of the human being history knows as Jesus Christ, that this god-man was crucified and came back to life because he loved people so much even though we've all been breaking the creator's rules since Adam and Eve, so that anybody who believes he was who he said he was will be spared this same creator's justice and have eternal life, no matter what they've done ... that this creator hears and answers prayers, and finally that the spirit of this man who died on the cross will actually enter, live inside and change people who put their faith in him?

Do you honestly believe all that?

Yup, that's exactly right.

Sticking with it

I was dangling off Ben's upper side rail this morning with a tube of leak-stopping Scotch 5200 Fast Cure Adhesive Sealant in one hand (three fingers on the other hand were already stuck together) when my cell buzzed with a message requesting text correspondence.

Fast-drying glue smeared over one hand, cell phone in the other. Go ahead and guess what happened next.

My plank person called

And it's Ok.

BLT for lunch - updated with links

I met Mike and Josh (who also goes to NS) at 11:45 am for lunch at Staton's then headed into town to meet B and L for 1:30 PM lunch at The Brick. T couldn't make it (a case of CENSORED :-), which comes from horsing around) but maybe next time.

It was great finally meeting L. First impression tells me he's as awesome as B described .... she got herself a good one here (even after figuring FSU into the equation), imho. Go 'Noles.

Whatever.

Course, B's no slouch herself, either :-)

Looking forward to seeing them both again soon. Thanks you guys.

I know what I'm doing and I'm in a hurry, SO LEAVE ME ALONE - thanks - updated

Soon as I bought Ben I started adding some custom touches for my personal comfort and entertainment.

Stuff like TV and radio antennas, extra lights and speakers were a snap to install: all it took was an electric drill, a few wood screws and a few minutes of my time.

Just think, I told myself, how easy and how much fun it is doing things on your own. And best of all everything worked like I'd planned.

Two years ago poor Ben's engine blowed-up real good, effectively turning my little guy into an emasculated barge. Rather than pay slip fees for a boat that wouldn't move, Ben got loaded onto his trailer and towed home to my driveway (where he remains to this day). Then I started working on my little houseboat to turn him around 360 degrees and get him "right" again.

Recently I noticed two strange things with Ben. When I'm onboard I can tell when it's raining outside because it starts raining inside ... soaking the side curtains and most every horizontal surface within minutes.

The other thing: when I went looking around the flybridge up top to find where the rain was coming in, I noticed soft spots on Ben's fiberglass "roof" that sagged under my weight.

Uh oh.

Mike the Mechanic explained that soft spots are caused by rain water seeping in and saturating the foam core under the fiberglass layers. Once water gets trapped inside the foam, dry rot starts destroying the core. As rot spreads it weakens and attacks critical structural elements that hold the boat together.

If not quickly arrested dry rot can ruin a boat that, from the outside, seems in otherwise perfect condition.

Where were all the leaks coming from? Ben stayed bone dry when he was at the marina ... but back then he was living "under cover" beneath the protection of a metal-roofed slip. The leaks were revealed soon as he was out in the open.

Uh oh.

Mike asked me, "Any idea where the water's coming in?"

Hmmm. Could be from the holes I'd drilled for all the extra stuff I wanted? Just a guess.

If I'd taken five minutes from my hurry to get the speakers jamming to Jimmy Buffet, I could've opened the big boat book and learned that the right way is NOT the way I'd been doing things.

The right way is more trouble and takes more time, but the right way prevents rot from ever starting because it keeps rain out in the first place.

I recently read an article by a marine surveyor who'd discovered core rot in an otherwise pristine cabin cruiser that would've cost more than the boat was worth to repair. In other words that $50,000 boat was lost.

Even though it looked perfect, and didn't seem to be in any danger of literally falling apart. And suddenly, permanently, sinking.

The idea that a boat that sparkles and looks factory-new on the outside could be a total floating wreck on the inside from nothing more significant than a pin-sized hole in its deck made my knees buckle. I had a hard time grasping that even the tiniest leak, even if it's unintentionally overlooked, can destroy the boat's integrity and make the vessel useless.

Man, I need to keep an eye out for pinhole leaks in the deck.

I spent two hours this morning patching the holes I already know about. Next time it rains I'll keep both eyes open and account for any leaks I missed ... and also check to see how the work I've already done is holding up in bad weather.

The Big Boat Book would've shown me very simply how to avoid leaks, and I'll know next time to consult The Book first ... before getting in a hurry, jumping in and doing things my way.

Because even one leak is too many to let slide, even if we're only talking about boats.

I can't believe you did that to me

I was pacing in the atrium tonight after the 6 started, staring at the double glass doors as though I could will K to somehow show up and walk through them, she wouldn't and didn't, when Tatiana called on my cell.

I met her for Chinese about twenty minutes later and I'm sure she noticed I wasn't all there (even forgot to turn off my phone after placing it on top of the table ... just in case). But I'm glad I got to see her and because, selfishly, it gave me an hour to decompress with a dear friend.

Things left over from the weekend still sloshed around undigested behind my eyeballs ... almost all of them centered on friends, acquaintances, buds, confidants, soul-mates or whatever, relationships, relatives, almost-fiances, girlfriends and all the rest ... that either dropped out of sight, stopped returning calls or had otherwise gone suddenly MIA with no explanation.

And how much not knowing why stings.

It just doesn't sting, it doesn't just hurt. The abrupt loss is a tearing away that leaves bruises and a sore, tender spot where affection, fondness and I really like knowing and spending time with you used to be that can ache months, even years, after the wound should already have healed.

It leaves you wondering Am I really that bad of a person that I deserve being treated that way? How could you do that to me?

---
Picturing an imaginary chance to tell that person I'm sorry for whatever I did and will do anything I can to ... Please just tell me how only seems to reenforce the sense of loss and helplessness, because no one's there to notice how much and how sincerely we mean it ... least of all the person we most wish could somehow hear us.

The same person we wish we could see grin and say in return, Yeah me too. Let's just start over ... and see what happens this time.

Then after another day, another week or another month is gone without a word, e-mail or text message the wound swells into an ugly scab from suspicion, jealousy and mistrust ... quietly hardening with hate and boiling rage.

I hate what you did. How could you do that to me? Really this time I mean it ... I hate you.

---
This morning at the 9:15 only one person came to mind to write down on my plank. I kept staring at the name I'd written because I was surprised, no, I was shocked, because not a single other name came to mind. Not even one.

And it wasn't at all who I was expecting.

It took seeing her name between my fingers, staring back at me in my own chicken-scratch handwriting, to make me realize how much hurt was attached to it.

As though I'd lowered my bucket into the pity well and pulled up a 55-gallon drum instead. I hadn't realized how much, and how deeply, the hurt had been affecting me ... and how much the weight was dragging me down.

But the time had come to cut the rope, and let the weight fall free.

--
Tonight I wondered if my name had been on any of the thousands of broken planks left at the altar. I hoped not; I hoped I'd never caused anyone so much hurt that my name was the one that had left bruises, stained and seemed impossible to forgive.

But I know it isn't true. Two-story houses in six different states have probably been built from planks with my name stamped across them in bold red letters, as the exclusive manufacturer. I realized I'd want to know ... and be grabbed by the shoulders and shaken half silly.

So I'd have the chance to grin and say in return, Yeah, me too. Why don't we start over ... and try 77 more times?

Christ in us

"This is real Christianity .... God put it in failing, faulty, weak, sinful men and women in order that it might be evident that the power does not originate in us.

"It is not a result of a strong personality, or an extroverted nature, or a highly honed and trained mind. No, it is not a result of any of these things. It is something which arises from the presence of God in the heart.

"That is why God so delights to call people like us -- the stupid, the weak, the faulty, the failing -- and to manifest his life and grace through us. "

-Ray C. Stedman

First as the last

Yaaa, one more thing the psychologist-ex told me: Always trust your first impressions.

She said when you meet someone for the first time, your emotional eyeballs are fresh and your inner warning signals haven't yet been "diluted."

Oh how I railed against that one. Surely it can't be true ... subsequent experience changed my mind.

I guess there's exceptions ... but then there's times I think frogs can fly, too.

---------

I got an unusal text message last night around 12:15 AM and because we're all friends I guess it's ok to share here:

"Do a ditty bob
ditty boo - u r
right again."

It's the ditty bob ditty boo part I can't figure out. Sounds like some cousins I would've met at last year's family reunion.

---------

Back to being serious.

Please pray for K at tomorrow's 6.

Fried Worms on the Grill

Pretty much everything I know about human behavior comes down to worms and a hot skillet. If you drop a worm onto a skillet that's been placed half-atop a hot stove, with the other half resting on the countertop, you'll see what I mean pretty quickly.

Even before the skillet gets warms to the touch the worm, like magic, will start worming its way to the cool side. Because even worms know what feels good ... at least until the heat starts spreading and finally ruins Mr. Worm's day.

Human beings are all about pleasure-seeking and pain-avoidance, too. When life causes our personal skillets to start heating up around us it doesn't take much coaxing for most of us to start running away from the heat.

We prefer avoiding pain so much that we'll even deny that the skillet beneath us ever got hot in the first place, rather than admit we weren't always cool and in control all along.

Because we're smarter than worms (except maybe when it comes to emotional stuff, like relationships), our brains use the advantage of memory to point us toward the easiest direction to escape the heat. ... even though the immediacy of getting away from the heat is what we remember- instead of using what we've previously learned to avoid falling into somebody else's skillet in the first place.

Worms can't read self-help books or refer to appliance manuals when they need help: about all they can do is keep squirming away, from one cool spot to another ... at least until the heat warms the entire skillet. There's nothing to learn and no decisions to make about avoiding hot spots when it comes down to being a worm.

Because worms don't have the choice of asking for help and personal intervention from outside the skillet.

skimming - updated + new poem

These copied from the blog of a young lady in Singapore, who dropped by a few months back.


Closeness is not about the proximity, but the understanding of each other.


Prosperity doth bewitch men, seeming clear;
As seas do laugh, show white, when rocks are near.


Forever Gone, Go Far & Be Never Near.
It Went All Wrong, The Love That Has Gone Stale.
-- you know me, I can't leave well enough alone. I woulda changed it to:

Forever gone, go far and never be near,
It went all wrong, the love
Waiting to be revealed.

See what I mean? A Word Mechanic keeps going back and adjusting stuff:

Forever go, go far and never be near
One heart whispers, Stay
The other too hard
To glance back or hear.

Away from you, lands apart.
Missing you so, in my heart!

Religion doesn't get it - updated

If you asked ten people from ten different denominations identifying themselves as "Christian" to Describe Jesus, you'd get at least twenty-six different answers.

All of us have at least some ideas about Jesus, right?

Traditionalists might start off describing Jesus as a gentle-faced, bearded man in glowing white robes standing at the pearly gates with organ music playing in the background, his hands benevolently extended toward us not just as a gesture of welcome but also to remind us of the nail scars in his hands.

Strict fundamentalists might depict Jesus as a wild-eyed, wrathful judge scowling down at us between thunder clouds from heaven. Their version hints He's Just About Had It With Us ... for the last 2000 years ... and the time's long overdue before he rains down fire upon sinners, the unrighteous, the wicked and especially the misled (who have tattoos and play rock music in church).

There's just something satisfying in having smug confidenence that one day, all the sinners are gonna get theirs in hell- and boy will they ever be sorry for not paying attention to us.

Universalist folks might tell us Jesus was a good man, a wise teacher, a real regular guy who kinda sorta maybe misunderstood what he was all about, that was the problem, and got himself killed for no good reason. Their Jesus understands and empathizes with us ... he's cool with everything, because he's a silly-faced big fraternity brother in heaven who'd never condemn anyone to spend eternity roasting in hell, even if such a place really existed.

They might even shrug off the resurrection and imply that Jesus was just like us, no more divine or the literal Son of God than you or me.

Jesus as Jerry Garcia?

Other, more "politically conscious" churches with their roots in the turbulent 1960s see Christ as a social revolutionary and activist whose message was geared toward class warfare and ending economic oppression of the masses.

But which of those perspectives comes closest to grasping what Jesus is really like?

Seems each description skewers What Christ Was Like to specifically conform to an exact (whether it's traditional or universalist) religious criteria existing more or less independent of scripture.

Because none of them mention What Christ Is Like. Nor do they tell us much about how Christ lives inside those who've placed their faith in him. And having a relationship with the Creator of the universe through Jesus Christ is hardly ever mentioned, as though the Messiah lost interest, packed his bags and forgot all about us soon as he ascended back into heaven.

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."
-Galatians 2:20 (NIV)

I wonder when so-called "Christian religions" became arrogant ... man-made for man's benefit ... and why faith in Christ and a relationship with the living God isn't enough to satisfy the folks who think we need, and can work to give ourselves, anything more than God's eternal promise. 1 Corinthians 15:57

Our faith is not based on man-made religion ... it's about our relationship with the living God through Jesus Christ.

Today's head-scratcher

Remember on January 6, when I said I'd give you $100, be your major domo, do your grocery shopping, mow your yard, destroy the phone. etc. etc. for a week if my cell phone rang during a pre-arranged meeting ... so long as we're not of the same sex? (because I believe women should be treated like ladies, with respect)

Well, guess what happened around 10:00 AM this morning. My cell phone rang during a pre-arranged meeting.

But since the pre-arranged meeting was with DJ, does that let me off the hook?

Why I'm Not Answering the Phone - updated

Or bothering with text messages, responding to emails, returning phone calls, reading FAXes or even letting Luke out in the morning:


I've literally been waiting for this book for years. I mean, years. And finally it came in today's mail.


"This book now published will forever tell of a few exciting years and of a time when great men battled with great elephants in a wild corner of Africa, and the mighty Nile will forever thunder over the Fola Rapids."

My goodness.

Well now you know I'd never just sit back and ignore either the phone or any text messages ... answering the phone is how I ended up at 8 AM in the backyard this morning, whacking bamboo with a machete so DJ could finish up his reflecting pool.

The final result really looks good, too. Definitely worth all the time and trouble he's put into it.

Coming up later today - updated- failure

I forgot to mention that the Chris Craft Roamer moored in front of me sank.

The bilge pump apparently hadn't been working in quite a while and with the additional weight from last weekend's rain, the transom finally sank low enough to start the scuppers siphoning lake water straight into the hull.

The fiberglass top broke off on the way to the bottom, and was last seen floating about 4 inches below the surface somewhere near Anchor Point.

Today the marina plans to sink 55-gallon drums around the boat, where a diver will fasten them to hoisting straps cradled under the hull, pump out the air from the drums and let their buoyancy float the Roamer back up to the surface.

Neat.

Memo to self: fix The Kid's bilge pump soonest.

That didn't work. The crew got the hull about 8 feet off the bottom, then it slipped off its cradle and fell back to the bottom. Add that was the end of the beginning of that. Ah, well.

Try again tomorrow. At least I get to move into the Roamer's previous slip, soon as the salvage barge goes away, for an unimpeded view of the gorgeous Lake Hartwell sunsets.

The Blue Book's IT Department is busy working overtime compiling an appropriate Playlist to pipe down to the divers working on the bottom, but so far this is all they've come up with (I knew it was a mistake to go with Macs):

Should I Stay Or Should I Go? - Clash

Batteries not included - updated

The "Ex" (the shrink) mentioned in a previous post had another observation that's stuck with me.

She had her own theory about why, when bad things happen to us (say a car accident), we have a tendency to look back and convince ourselves, "If only I'd left the house 10 seconds sooner." Or, "If only I'd stopped to get gas, like I was supposed to."

We like to pretend things woulda been different if only we could use life's remote control, hit the button to re-wind time, and do an insignificant thing different that we could've changed the sequence of events leading up to the moment when disaster snuck up and grabbed us.

It's like the football fan who's convinced his team lost the big game because he didn't have his Lucky Shirt tucked in just right, or because he forgot to walk backwards three times around his favorite recliner before the game started. He's convinced two half-billion dollar sports franchises are more affected by what he wears, or by the way he walks around his living room, than they are by coaching, game planning or team practice.

If only I'd ...

The reason, the good doctor explained, is our persistent need to feel in control of our lives ... even with situations and events that took place in the past.

You can expand her point to include most any ordeal that either hurt , disappointed, or caused us to think "That would never have happened if only I'd ..." or "If only I hadn't ..."

If I'd only done one little thing different, that wouldn't have happened underscores our belief that we've actually had control over the billions of sequences of events that've happened to every one of us up to this second in our lives all along.

We don't like getting nasty surprises, especially when we're convinced we don't deserve them. And none of us like accepting the fact that we don't have a cushy seat reserved in Heaven's VIP Departure Lounge while we're watching the clock here on earth waiting to catch our flight home.

It scares us to think our lives might just be out there in the cosmos somewhere, bouncing between random bumpers like an un-numbered foosball, and that misfortune can still surprise us no matter how young we are, no matter what degrees we've earned, no matter where we live and no matter how much money we net after taxes.

We'd rather brick up the windows than acknowledge tragedy might show up unexpectedly at our doorstep, enter without knocking, move in like an uninvited guest and change our safe little routines forever.

We'll trust lucky key rings, astrologers, superstitions and even our own ability to prevent tragedies rather than place our faith where it matters most ... in the Creator himself.

If only I could do it over again ... if only we weren't so audacious.

In the beginning ....

God is sitting in Heaven when a scientist says to Him, "Lord, we don't
need you anymore. Science has finally figured out a way to create life out of nothing. In other words, we can now do what you did in the beginning."

"Oh, is that so? Tell me..." replies God.

"Well, " says the scientist, "we can take dirt and form it into the likeness of You and breathe life into it, thus creating man."

"Well, that's interesting. Show Me."

So the scientist bends down to the earth and starts to mold the soil.

"Oh no, no, no..." interrupts God,

( I love this)

"Get your own dirt."

Driving Along Main Street at 3 PM

Word of God Speak - Kutless

-I'm finding myself at a loss for words
And the funny thing is it's okay
The last thing I need is to be heard
But to hear what You would say.-

Had to Happen

And I knew one day it would.

Yesterday afternoon while driving to the 4:15 it seemed like a good idea to check my cell and see if I'd missed any messages. And while scrolling through menu options I blew right through a stop light.

I was so distracted (or so intensely focused on the wrong goal) that if I hadn't looked up and seen the startled faces of the drivers facing me at the intersection, I might've never even suspected what I'd done.

Uh, and this came after I'd hit the curb with the front-passenger side wheel a few miles before, while trying to plug in the charger.

Lesson learned: either drive, talk, recharge or text message ... but don't do more than three at the same time.

Goal to go at the 3

Disclaimer: I'm not on the church staff and any observations or statements presented here are entirely my own. Any errors are mine, too.

This afternoon was the very first 4:15 PM service at the new building. The extra service, which is now the third of four, was added because the brand new 2500-seat auditorium had pretty quickly run out of seats as attendance soared past 8000 people per Sunday.

This is in a community with a county-wide population last year of 175,514.

I've heard that pastors from across the country call the church office, send e-mails and ask, "What are you doing to see such growth?" though I think the question also means, What are you doing to see so many people saved?

The answer has to be just one thing: instead of getting "deeper in the word", focusing on boycotts or wasting time with finance committees or worrying about steeples and stained glass windows, it comes down to ministering and preaching Jesus Christ and nothing but Jesus Christ.

Every Sunday, four times each Sunday ... it's all about the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Day after day, in the temple courts and from house to house, they never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Christ. Acts 5:42

For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. 1 Corinthians 1:18

We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. 1 John 1:3

First Ever Re-Post

Ya'll are so nice to me. Really.

Taking the time to either write or call to say how much you enjoyed and appreciate the following post means a lot, an awful lot. So here ya go for one more time around the block

You're the best friends in the world ... and I trust you to hold me to my word.

This applies if you and I are of the opposite gender: If my cell phone rings in your presence during a pre-arranged meeting of any kind, I will:

1. Give you $100
2. Vacuum, clean your house, be your butler, do your grocery shopping and be your yardman for one (1) week
3. Destroy the phone on the spot

My reasoning here is simple: you deserve my 100% undivided attention even if we're only casual acquaintances or "just friends."

I'm serious. I hate cell phones .... and besides, You are worth much more than that.

Please - updated

Pray for K, ok? We just got off the phone and she's getting close.

It's today's 11:15

Love Is All Ya Need ...(loser) - updated

One of the wisest things I've ever heard came from an ex-girlfriend.

TPW may have been quoting someone else, I don't remember and guess it doesn't matter. But what she said is this:

"People don't fall in love with a person, they fall in love with how they feel when they're with that person."

Whoa. The subtext here is, "I must be in love because I really like the way I feel when I'm with you. I'm willing to overlook your issues at the same time, because I'm desperately hoping you can fix and make me feel better about mine."

That's why we see middle-aged men who've been married 30 years buying Corvettes soon as their kids are out of college and start running around with teen-aged girlfriends... they feel trapped and are rebelling against their marriages through sheer boredom and the lack of any prospect for a meaningful future (it's also why middle-aged women who feel neglected and left-at-home start exploring romance novels and pool boys.)

The compulsion to fix what's broken inside me is often misidentified as Romantic Attraction and leads us toward partners with their own gritty issues, eventually steering us into relationships that can be hurtful, destructive and co-dependent.

The persistent longing for approval explains why young women become promiscuous, especially at very young ages: Girls hurting inside from fractured notions of their self-worth use boys (and anything they do with them sexually) as a fix, learning from their peers to dress and advertise themselves like prostitutes ... because they're willing to trade sexual favors in return for a man's attention and the illusion of his affection.

Being goal-oriented, young men who've grown up seeing women neglected or abused, whether physically or emotionally, quickly learn to feign emotional affection (or provide young women with gifts ... whether clothes, jewelry or drugs) in exchange for immediate sexual gratification.

Never mind the lie that's happening in-between or the consequences taking place afterwards: young women and girls end up being treated as disposable sex toys and become bitterly convinced that "all men are just alike and only want one thing."

Boys and young men who forget the most important thing inside a woman's shirt is her heart never quite grow beyond an adolescent infatuation with the simple mechanical physicality of sex.

No matter what their age, people who keep trying to heal themselves by sleeping with their partner's issues inevitably leave those same relationships feeling tricked, misled and deceived ... and carry that same baggage with them as they begin each new search for the "right" fix ... always missing that sexual intimacy between a man and his wife is an emotional act designed to affirm their commitment and secure the spiritual bond between them.

Sexual intimacy is meant to build a life-long communion that's a celebration of life. It's a gift given to us not by pornography or romance novels, but by the Creator himself ... to be used only as he intended.

Ooey-gooey infatuation, sexual attraction and physical gratification grow thin pretty durn quickly and eventually one partner or the other starts getting a bad case of Bedroom Boredom resulting in Wandering Eyes Syndrome. Because it's more fun, and more exciting, seeking new sexual challenges and lurid fantasies than it is turning the finger around and pointing to the emptiness inside ourselves as being the root of the problem.

Admiting I'm Broken And Need Fixing is hard. It makes us feel vulnernable and might even be humiliating if we acknowledge something so personal to the wrong person. Still, we have that yearning and desire to be loved and accepted, unconditionally and no matter what, that too often remains unsatisfied and leaves us wondering What's wrong with me?

Please doctor, can you fix me?

---

Another wise thing I heard came from an Ex who was a clinical psychologist.

She told me "Joe, everybody has their stuff" .. and we all do. Everybody's had their share of issues, hurts, frustrations, rejections, "What If's" and "Why did that happen's" going all the way back to childhood, with enough plot-twists to fill a best-seller.

But that only means we're all broken inside ... that's what the world does and the way the world works and no one should feel special, self-important or deserving because of it.

Some of us look for solutions through money & accumulating material possesions, or through porn, sexual escapades, alcohol, drugs, gambling or you name it. We fall into those traps and try clawing our way out because our pain's so severe that if it can't be fixed Right Now, like we see on TV, we forget about finding the real cause and start digging all over again with whatever bright, attractive new shovel that happens to fall into the hole with us ... even if the handle's broken and there's nothing there to hold on to.

Just one more drink, one more lottery ticket, one more credit card or one more new boyfriend on the side.

We wind up digging the hole deeper. And deeper still. But we think The Fix lies with finding just one more.

---

Nothing in this world pre-exists the Creator and none of today's worries, hurts, or anxieties will matter to anyone else 100 years from now. And nothing you write in your diary, lock away in your journal or post on your blog will ever go back farther or be more important than this:

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."
Matthew 11:28

So why do people who feel their lives are out of control continue living as though control might finally come if only they could have just one more?

See ya in a few Sunday Playlist:
Mighty to Save - Hillsong

Seaworthy humor

-What's the one thing that always works on an old boat?

The owner.

just me, personally

My PH in Africa got a little sore with me because I didn't bring along a high-tech digital camera, apparently like other clients do, to take lots of pictures in the Selous. All I took with me was a pocket-sized Nikon 35mm that could easily be confused with a disposable point n' shoot.

Not sure why it bugged him so much nor whether he'd understand the reasons why a "professional photographer" wouldn't take along the best camera he could find.

One of my favorite all-time quotes comes from David Lynch's movie Lost Highway. Not far into the film, while police are on the scene investigating the arrival of a mysterious VHS tape on the doorstep of a suburban couple's home, one of the detectives asks Bill Pullman, "Do you own a video camera?"

Pullman answers uneasily, "I like to remember things my own way."

That's what it comes down to, and the reason I wasn't burning up megapixels during my stay. I've seen video shot during my hunt and what I saw on the screen wasn't in any way at all like what happened. And nothing like what I remember.

----

Several great quotes from Lost Highway. Here's just a few:

"This is where mechanical excellence and one-thousand four-hundred horsepower pays off. "

Fred Madison: [angrily into the phone] How did you get inside my house?
Mystery Man: You invited me. It is not my custom to go where I am not wanted.

Fred Madison: I had a dream about you last night.
Renee Madison: Yeah? What was it about?
Fred Madison: You were in the house, calling my name, but I couldn't find you. Then there you were ... but it wasn't you. It looked like you, but it wasn't.

Pete Dayton: I want you.
Alice Wakefield: You'll ... never ... have me.

Pete Dayton: What's going on?
Mystery Man: It's been a pleasure talking to you.

Al: Do you know what I think?
Fred: What is it? What is it that you think?
Al: There is no such thing as a bad coincidence.

Curious and curiouser - The Boomerang Effect

Last night I was rooting around under sofa cushions looking for spare change, and look what I found.

It's a genuine AVCLUB-issue Spyderco knife. Just like Boomerang, the one Ken used to have ... with one big difference: this one's sharp as a muke-skinner's razor.

I'll bet Ken's gonna want one just like it.

Chocolate Coconuts & Fazoli's - updated

It's More Important to Sound Good than to Smell Good
I swung by the mall this afternoon and picked up a bottle of cologne ... something I do regularly every five or ten years.

After the saleslady stopped laughing at my first choice (after asking "So when's the big prom?") she suggested I try Santana instead (yeah, Carlos Santana). I thought it smelled like chocolate coconut milk but bought it anyway, because the set included a nifty Sanata Live CD.

I saw Santana live in concert once and always hated that he never released a version of Black Magic Woman with the rift from Jimi Hendrix's Third Stone from the Sun near the end, the way Santana played it that night.

This CD has it.

It's also got Maria, Maria (think it was called Jingo on his first LP) ... worth smelling tropically exotic for.

Fun Fabulous Friday with Frashley Fran at Fazoli's
We ducked inside just before the rain came roaring down Clemson Boulevard, watched traffic wheeze to a stop and promised not to think about brownies till after we'd eaten.

Hey FF, I gotta embarrass you a little bit and say how much I always look forward to seeing you. You're fun to be around, one of the most sincere and honest people I've ever known, I don't think you've got a malicious bone in your body and you've got a knack for saying absurdly funny things when I least expect it and I think somehow we must be related.

"I'll make you fat and jolly on peanutbutter pie."

I've never seen you get angry or impatient, not even about Hoo-Haas, without turning the situation into a joke, which makes you even more fun to be around.

(Poor FF and AF, they practically get to see me throw temper tantrums once a week, roll around the floor kicking, screaming and pulling my hair, demanding to be taken home Right Now! but neither one ever holds grudges, yells back or threatens to leave me at home if I can't start behaving :-) I'm boating-challenged, and staying up past 9 PM waiting to be towed back to the marina makes me grouchy.

Fran thank you for being my friend.

And next time we gotta remember to go back for the brownies.

One-Legged Pants

One night on my way home from the track beside McCant's I made an unscheduled stop at the grocery store to pick up a few odds and ends for supper.

When time came to pay I was exactly 36 cents short of the total, and not having the debit card with me I asked the cashier to take the cat food off my ticket.

There was an older gentleman in line behind me ... and without a word he handed the cashier a dollar bill to cover my purchase. Talk about turning red-faced and getting a lump in your throat.

I thanked him profusely, which only seemed to embarrass him, because all he said was, "You've got to feed your cats."

That little gesture of kindness has stayed with me in a big way.

-----

I'm not exactly in touch with the latest fashion trends; I only know some of the ones I've seen recently look two exits past silly ... yet people will rush down to the mall and pay most any price to have whatever's newest and The Latest.

I started wondering, what if some chic Manhattan super-star designer turned the fashion world on its head by introducing One-Legged Pants (with a snappy name, like Solo's) in his spring collection and started the latest, craziest fashion buzz?

You and I both know that the day after Oprah appeared on national TV adorned in one-legged pants, 75% of America's TV-watching public would be standing in line to the parking lot to buy a pair (a solo?) for themselves.

And anyone who insisted on wearing traditional two-legged pants would be immediately shunned, ridiculed for their out of date fashions and for being out of touch with the latest trends.

---

Gosh when that nice man paid my bill back at the grocery store, somehow it never occured to me to turn around and rush back into the store to grab a few more items, just because he'd already paid what I owed.

Some Christians have that attitude though.

Wearing one-legged pants just to be fashionable would contradict my personal experiences as well as my belief that wearing two-legged pants gives me more freedom than one-legged pants ... no matter which designer's name is sewed across the back pocket.

Because I know I have two real legs, no matter what they say in New York and no matter what's hot in LA.

Folks who find fault with Christiantity often argue that our faith places too many restrictions on what we can and can't do, implying that we believe strict adherence to a list of legalistic rules can bridge what separates us from God.

(On the other end of the spectrum, every time I see a wild-eyed televangelist promising that "God wants you to be a millionaire!" or even "Jesus wants to bless you with a new car!" I start getting queasy about what they seem to be suggesting The Abundant Life really means.

I don't think the path following Christ is called Easy Street nor is it cushioned with rose petals or paved with gold coins, nor do I believe that Christ ever said "Start up your Cadillac, and follow me." Sometimes, lots of times, following Christ can be extremely difficult ... particularly when we approach unfamiliar territory and his direction seems entirely different than the paths we took in our pasts.)

For believers who know Christ paid our debts in full, continuing to accept sin and choosing any path except his is no more of an option than accepting moral relativism or any of the world's other one-legged pants: God's commandments do not include the words "It depends," "If it's convenient" or "Whatever works for you."

We want to stop sinning because our debt's already been paid and we follow his commandments not from fear, but from faith and love ... and know the abundant life as a result.

God's love is not a trend nor does it ever go out of style; it's eternal, ever-lasting and real.

Coffee at Ken's

Early this morning I received a summons to pick up and deliver a VIP to AVCLUB.US World Headquarters, located at an undisclosed location somewhere outside The Electric City Beltway.

Which explains how I got a sneak peek of AVCLUB.US's latest technological breakthrough ... Anti-Gravity Boots that actually work.

At least that's what I think I saw.

If there's any other explanation for how Ken put his foot through the 8-foot high kitchen ceiling, unless he was walking across the ceiling upside-down, I have no idea what it could be.

Nobody in their right mind would ...

Sure they would.

Just saw this commercial on TV:

"Pay off those holiday bills with a home equity loan from ---- ."

I couldn't believe my ears. But certainly thousands of financially-anxious ears perked up across the country at the mention of this quick fix for your financial woes.

What an awesome deal! Sign over the title to your largest asset, your house, to pay off charge card debts. The catch is, you're not paying off anything, and would put the place where you live at risk to "pay" for a year's worth of Christmas presents ... which no one will remember by Valentine's Day anyway.

Valentine's Day? Hey, that's right around the corner!

Maybe a car title loan is just the ticket ...

What's my number - updated

I can't believe what I've done. I've reactivated my cell phone. Now it's glaring up at me, like a live rattlesnake ringing on top of my desk.

I hate cell phones and am already ashamed of having one.

Ring a ding, just great.

Oooooh, ooooooh. Now I think I need a Crackberry.

I can hardly run downstairs to microwave a pizza without patting my pocket first to make sure the phone will go with me.

That's gotta stop. Now.

The Blue Book's Your Time Is Precious, and Spending Time With You Is Awesome Promise:

Okay, I expect you ... who are my closest Friends ... to hold me to it.

This applies if you and I are of the opposite gender: If my cell phone rings in your presence during a pre-arranged meeting of any kind, I will:

1. Give you $100
2. Vacuum, clean your house, be your butler, do your grocery shopping and be your yardman for one (1) week
3. Destroy the phone on the spot

My reasoning here is simple: in your presence you deserve my 100% undivided attention ... even if we're only casual acquaintances or "just friends."

I'm serious. I hate cell phones .... and besides, You are worth much more than that.

Now turn the volume up loud enough to turn the tide ... remembering that genuine passion can't exist unless integrity and commitment come first.

The First Time Ever "Click n' Listen" Playlist (Redeux):
(She's So Heavy)

Must be the weather

Last night I went to sleep bursting with enthusiasm about getting stuff done over the next two weeks and making real, tangible progress (an oxymoron, as it applies to marine repair & rennovation) and doubled-up on my rest by logging almost 7 hours in one night.

Then something happened around 11:15 AM and I ran out of E right there in the electrical aisle down at Lowe's. I knew what I wanted but ... it was Strange. Didn't even feel like grabbing anything for lunch because the only focus in mind was getting back to the house.

Must be the gloomy overcast. Must be I forgot to take my vitamins or it must be I need another cup of coffee. There must be something ... and here I am.

"Sudden Stop Ahead - Do Not Pass Go" Mid-Day Playlist:
Like the Weather - 10,000 Maniacs
- there's lots more rain ahead in the forecast
When the Levee Breaks - Led Zeppelin

Too Hot to Handle

Just some stuff I've seen:

-A guy rushes out to buy the most exotic, fastest car he can afford without taking time to learn how to drive it. Still, he likes the way having a 200 mph sports car makes him feel about himself while he's picking up burgers at the drive-through.

-A guy shows up for his African safari with the biggest, most powerful rifle he can hold in two hands ... even though he's never fired it a single time because he's scared witless of the recoil, and can't hit a tree if he's standing beside it. But he still likes showing you the cartridges and explaining that he owns the baddest.

-A guy buys a bigger boat than his neighbor but ends up never taking it out, because he lacks the experience and skills to pilot such a big boat back to the dock all by himself though he's too embarrassed to admit it.

But he still enjoys hearing all the Wow's and whistles when strangers walk past when they see it tied up in its slip. Even though all the women he thought he'd attract have been attracted to the new biggest boat over at the adjacent dock.

Yet he'll bore your ears off telling you all the places his boat is capable of going.

That men like those pursue adornments and trophies, without understanding or being devoted to what they already have, to focus on simply having more symbols to bolster their self-image, might explain why their wives are so seldom mentioned during conversations.

When asked "Where's your wife?" the usual answer is "Oh, she'd rather stay home than do anything like this."

Hmmm. Wonder what the wives are doing while Captain Macho is busying soaping down his toy yacht, playing Great Hunter or waiting at red lights behind the steering wheel of his new $100,000 rocketmobile?

Come on guys, for pete's sake. All you're doing is looking silly ... and chances are your wife was the first one to notice.

Have you forgotten what Passion means?

Thursday's "Here's A Clue" Playlist:
I Want You (She's So Heavy) - The Beatles

Latest Poll Reveals Married Women Aren't Married to Men, After All - updated

I read the results of a new poll that made my hair curl:

56% of married women admit they would not marry their husband a second time
60% of married women believe their husbands have had affairs
36% of married women have had affairs
75% of married women have fantasies about other men

I don't know what conclusions we can draw about married women from the data.

But my gut tells me 75% of those men are little boys suffering from both short attention spans and a pitiful lack of commitment to Performance Being Job 1. And all the husbands represented in that poll need to find a church that teaches Christ Comes First In Marriage right away.

Joe's Engaged!

No, just kidding.

Musta got carried away there in all the excitement.

And yes, as punishment for pulling your leg my face did actually freeze in this position. Serves me right, I suppose.

This is ORP

Orp is one of my Best Friends Of All Time. Golly what's it been ... 15 years? 16 years? Geepers. In all that time I don't think we've ever had a fight, falling out, disagreement or even a cross word come between us (Hey B, let me know if I forgot something :-)

Orp's also the one who, after how many times asking and much perseverance, finally convinced me to visit New Spring with her almost three years ago.

Looking at the smile on her face, I gotta wonder if it's because she got something special for Christmas. Trigger tells me he thinks she did.

Stephanie's Engaged!

Whoo hoo!

Commitment vs. Involvement

Somebody told me once that the difference between being commited ... whether to a spouse, a career, a church, a relationship or whatever ... and being involved was as simple as ham and eggs.

Huh?

"Well," he explained, "when you've got a plate of ham and eggs on the table in front of you, the chicken was involved with your breakfast. But the pig ... the pig was commited."

Because you are my friends ...

I'd like to introduce you to Joe Sangl.

spare choices

-I checked in at Amazon a few minutes ago and found out my Today's #1 Recommendation is a film I'd never heard of called Sleeping Beauty.

"After her mother commits suicide, nineteen year old Lucy Harmon travels to Italy to have her picture painted. However, she has other reasons for wanting to go. She wants to renew her acquaintance with Nicolo Donati, a young boy with whom she fell in love on her last visit four years ago. She also is trying to solve the riddle left in a diary written by her dead mother, Sara. Directed by Bernardo Bertolucci." - imbd.com

Hmmm. Somehow that doesn't do a lot to inspire me to rush downstairs and add Sleeping Beauty to my must-see-right-away list. Surely it was a computer somewhere in Amazon's marketing department that made the selection ... even though it missed the mark by a Belton mile.

Why has Amazon gone to so much trouble to convince me I need something that I didn't know existed in the first place?

Wonder how many people will buy something today, simply based on a thinking box telling them People Like You Need Something Like This.

-Had breakfast yesterday morning with Chris White, who knows more about film and filmmaking than I do about ... well, about anything.

Chris made the point that our culture embraces the illusion that we have an almost infinite variety of "empowering" choices (as well as the right to make those choices), to the point we feel entitled to make choices independent of consequences and have little doubt that the importance of our choices supercedes the importance of anyone else's.

What's interesting is that 99% of Americans' choices are solely focused on What stuff do I want? ... whether it's a new Nissan or a Ford, an LCD or plasma TV, whether to go with Playstation or Nintendo, and whether to choose Nano over Shuffle.

We think we can choose what makes us "happy" ... and bought the idea, literally, that having material stuff is the key.

Seems to me we've chosen to become targets of a marketing ploy promising to make us feel smart, complete, in the know and in control of life at the center of the universe ... and all savy folks like us have to do is choose Brand X over Brand Y ... because that's what TV commercials say savy folks like us do.

And since we absolutely must define ourselves instantly and Have It Right Away we can even choose which of our uniquely personalized debt cards has the biggest available balance to Take That New Lifestyle Home Today!

Heck, we can even choose whether to skip this month's minimum payment and buy groceries instead, while we're standing in line with the rest of the herd waiting for the next available cashier.

Matchbox Wisdom

I thought there must be some vast, comprehensive line to include as the last line, as we get closer, when time comes to turn the page on The Blue Book.

I found some gems, and more than a few dogs; ultimately the decision is yours:

" A woman's heart is much like the moon, always changing but always has a man in it."

"... Him that I love, I wish to be free - even from me." - Anne Morrow Lindbergh

"Had the price of looking been blindness, I would have looked." - Ralph Ellison

"Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. Just walk beside me ... and be my friend." - Albert Camus

Sure Got Cold

Yes siree ... another great adventure today drifting around Lake Hartwell. No point going into it, not really. You'd think I'd know better by now.

And I do .... but it hasn't stopped me so far.

How's About Some More Rain for the Weekend? Playlist:

Rainy Day, Dream Away - Jimi Hendrix
Sure Got Cold After the Rain Fell - ZZ Top
Rainy Days and Mondays - The Carpenters

Bluebook Exclusives:
Shu Ba Da Du Ma Ma Ma - Steve Miller [listen for the bass & drums]
We've Just Begun - Jimmy Castor [remember what a real fuzz pedal sounds like?]

Do you know where YOUR 14 year old is?

... Somewhere near Antigua, I think?

From Telegraph.co.uk:

"A 14-year-old boy aims to make history on New Year's Day by becoming the youngest person to sail across the Atlantic single handed. Michael Perham set sail from Gibraltar on Nov 18 and is on course to complete the 3,500-mile journey on Monday, when he docks in Antigua."

By the way, the "yacht" he's sailing is just 28-feet long ... and he carried an inflatable Santa along, since he'd be a thousand miles from shore during Christmas.

... in my name

Hey, it's 2007 already ... and a great day to talk about prayer.

It's funny how it never occured to me to learn very much about plumbing or household wiring until just a few months ago. Not until I finally got tired of standing in 3" of water inside a flooded boat, scratching my noggin and wondering where it all came from.

Just like it never occured to me to do much with 110-volt electricity beyond installing a dimmer or changing a lightbulb ... until I found out what marine electricians charge by the hour.

So long as everything worked the way I wanted there was no realization that I needed to know how to do those things.

It could be that owning two 35+ year-old boats has made me understand the importance of prayer more recently, but it's more likely there've been other, more compelling and urgent events when I needed assistance that made me realize prayer is the only choice.

Prayer works.

I was often disappointed as a prayerful little kid because I hardly ever got what I was praying for. No matter how hard I prayed. I thought God was so busy taking care of the adults and their prayers that he didn't have much time left over to spend with kids.

Like us kids were all away at vacation Bible school, and God would get around to us when he could.

Then I heard about this verse:

"You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it." (KJV)

Thinking college had made me smarter, I changed my prayer strategy and expected better results right away. I started tacking on "In Jesus' name I pray" at the end of each request ... "In Jesus' name may I please get a passing grade? Please, in his name?"

But not even that worked out like I planned, and I spent lots of time in summer school wondering why prayers go unanswered.

So what's the problem? Are verses like John 14:13-14, John 15:16 and John 16:23 nothing more than religious shell-games to keep our attention focused on the playing board?

Once we get past thinking of prayer as if it was coins we must drop into God's heavenly vending machine before we can start punching (mashing) our selection, we've got to accept that just like our telephone conversations with folks here on earth, prayer gets dull pretty quickly when only one person is doing all the talking.

And the person who'd been doing all the talking was me.

Hey, but my life situation was reaching critical mass and I wasn't in the mood to listen or be humble- I wanted to call in my order, wait by front door and see my solution guarantee-delivered in 30 minutes or less.


The Prayerful Physics of Conversation and Communication
1. Talking is not communication
2. There is no such thing as a one-way conversation
3. Communication is impossible if both parties are talking at the same time
4. Unlike talk, Communication cannot travel in two directions at the same time

In other words it took me a long time to realize I'd been using prayer to help God know exactly what I wanted and when I wanted it, instead of shutting up and listening to find out exactly what God wants and whether what I want glorifies him.

If you're a believer, communicating with the creator in order to find out what God wants might oughtta stay at the very top of your daily To-Do list, just a guess. The things God wants are bigger and more far-reaching than anything we could imagine for ourselves.

I was looking at my head in the mirror this morning and realized my brain could drop inside a quart-sized oil can without touching either side. My thinking-motor's not very big on the outside ... and when it comes to managing my life, much less controlling the universe, there's not much more than a few bubbles on the inside.

It's so scarey I don't want to dwell on how feeble my ability to contol the events around me actually is. That's why I'm glad prayer's there instead.

No wonder if God gets bored by our puny, selfish little prayers. And no wonder that we so often get frustrated and feel we're ignored, wondering why God doesn't do exactly what we want, until we become convinced there's no one listening on the other end.

The same way God might get frustrated and feel he's being ignored when we don't do exactly what he wants ... but then surely he already knows whether anyone's listening on this end.