For God's sake!

How old am I? Forty something, right? So why in God's name have I not figured out how to shave like a man and not a 16 year old boy with his first Bic? Does Bic still make a razor? I've written about my shaving mishaps before, but I'm sad to say that I still haven't figured it out. I will say that I no longer do the old shaving cream and razor thing and I long gave up on an electric razor when I started shaving my head. An electric razor just doesn't seem to work on my melon, I've tried it. I tried waxing my head as well and to say it failed would be an understatement. My current method is soap and a razor while showering. Seeing as how I have zero hairlines that I need to shave up to, it's basically a free for all, except for ears, nose, lips and the whole eye area. Seems like it should go pretty smoothly, but I'm sure you can tell that if I'm writing this, it doesn't go well. I am very consistent in my slicing of my lip and more commonly, my neck. Of all places to cut, why is it my neck? And of course, when you cut your neck, it bleeds like crazy and then is clearly visible for the rest of the day, and usually the week. I've tried to come up with a good story about how I received the cut, like from a broken bottle during a bar fight. Or perhaps from one of those lions I got to hold in Africa, or better yet, from that cubs angry father. Nope, I cut myself shaving, again. Is there some sort of class I can take so I can stop the madness? Perhaps at the local community college or an adult ed class given at the local high school, "Things your dad should have taught you 25 years ago." There are a few things that could be tossed in there along with the shaving. Like how to make your grass green with no fertilizer or water, unless it rains. I don't think we ever did either of those things to our lawn as a kid and all was fine. Now, if I don't do something, I have a dried out hay field, without the option of bayling it to make a few extra bucks. On top of the slices I make, where I'm cutting too much, I leave enough stubble to make it appear that I didn't actually shave, just took my razor and shaved off my skin. It's really coming to a point when I just want to go Grizzly Adams and let everything go wild. That would be the scariest thing you have ever seen, since my facial hair grows like that same 16 year old I mentioned at the start of this post and most of the hair on my head has long tired of the world and has decided to stay buried in my scalp. I guess I will just have to keep trying, or perhaps come up with better excuses. I'm not sure people would believe me if I said Marcy did it, she doesn't have a mean bone in her body, but I might just have to give it a try.

Hey, cut and paste does not a blog post make.

As I write this, the missionaries who served in El Paso Texas, the same mission that I spent 5 years of my life serving, are now either home or traveling back to the great state of Iowa. I was fortunate to serve the people of Juarez Mexico for the first 4 years of that and then the people of El Paso on my final year. For the past 2 years, I have been unable to go do to some family health issues and now, financial issues. I know some day, I will be back to serving in some capacity, and believe me, that will be a happy day. I miss it. But as I tell Marcy when we are fretting over figuring out what to do or how to do it, "This is where we are now." By that I mean, our situation will change, like it has so many times before, and we will have opportunities that we don't currently have. As I think back to the many mission trips I have been on, I never want to forget why I go. I was reading an old post on my South Africa blog and found the following post. Remember that this was a few years back when I was raising money for that trip, but there is a lot of info that I wanted to re-post, even if it is just for me. Enjoy. Or skip, whatever.

I've had a few questions posed to me that I thought I would answer on the site, so any of you that have the same questions, can have them answered.

1. Why? Why do you go and why South Africa? Since this is 2 different questions, lets answer each one separately. (her I go with the numbering thing again. This time, I'm throwing in some letters as well)

a. Why? Well, the short and simple answer is, God told me too. "Holy crap, this guy is nuts!" Yep, I would have said that myself just 7 short years ago, but here is what I have learned. God speaks to you, if you choose to listen. What did he say to me? No words, but an overwhelming feeling like I've never felt before. An emotion that I can't explain and a desire I couldn't deny. I'm the first one to think it must have been gas, but no, to powerful for that, and much higher. No, this was a full out command from God, telling me I need to move, to get off my ass and do something bigger than me. I've always been a fan of me, doing whatever I wanted and not apologizing for it. Now, it was time for me to do something for someone else, but not just anything, something big. My first venture on this journey was a week in the Appalachian mountains building a wheelchair ramp for a lady, with a group of people I met in the van ride from my West Des Moines home to Jonesville, VA. Spending 2 days in a van with people, lets you get to know them pretty well and I'll tell you I fell in love with them right away. You see, they had that same feeling as I did. I'm not sure it was the same experience as mine, but similar. The thing I remember most about that trip, was something the lady we built the ramp for said as we watched her wheel down it for the first time. She said, "You gave me my life back." We did what? We just nailed some boards together, I didn't know it would actually be appreciated. Her husband had to carry her down the steps before, so if he wasn't home, she couldn't leave her front porch. If her granddaughters were playing in the front yard, she could only watch from 4 feet above, but now, she could be right with them. I knew right then why God had sent my selfish ass. I knew my life would never be the same, and it hasn't been. The next year, as I began to prepare for my second trip to Appalachia, a new trip was started, this one to Juarez Mexico. Never heard of it. Again, God spoke to me and told me to give it a try. I went to the informational meeting and it scared the hell out of me. They wanted us to go to the most violent city in North America, stay in the old garbage dump, and build a house for a family I had never met and probably wouldn't be able to communicate with, because my dumbass never took Spanish in high school, so I only new words from the Taco Bell menu. I was pretty sure that Taco Belgrande wasn't going to be helpful in Mexico. The title of that trip was, "Step out of your comfort zone." That was an understatement for me. I like my schedule. I like to know what I'm doing, when I'm doing it and for how long. I'll tell you, that trip had none of that. It was totally out of my control, but for some reason, it didn't bother me. That was 4 years ago and I have gone every year since. That was a long winded answer for a three letter question.

b. Why South Africa? I learned a little about the AIDS epidemic this year from a traveling information thing. (not sure what category to put it in, calling it a show seems to lessen it's impact) They talked about all of the children that have lost their parents to AIDS and how their own family, aunts and uncles, wouldn't take them in because they were afraid that the kids had AIDS and would give it to them. I would like to think that my family wouldn't do that to me, if I was in that situation. These kids then have to fend for themselves. As you went in to this "show," you were assigned a child. You listened through a MP3 player as you walked through this child's life. These were actual kids telling their stories, not actors playing the part. Heart breaking, to say the least. I was moved. I kept asking myself, what can I do? I don't have money right now to sponsor a child, I'm committed over my head as it is. So I did nothing. Then, I saw the opportunity to GO to South Africa and see and do, what I felt in my heart I was supposed to do. So here we are, me trying to go, asking for you to partner with me, so I can help a few of the millions that are hurting.

2. Why bother? You can't make a difference. Oh how wrong that statement is. You heard what the lady in Jonesville, VA said. Last February, as we handed the keys to a new home we had just built, I watched a man, his wife and 2 daughters hold each other and cry. People had walked into their lives, built them a house, handed them the keys, prayed for them, then walked out, asking nothing in return. Imagine if someone did that for you, ala Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. How would you feel? I can't imagine, but I'll tell you how it feels to be the one who hands them those keys and walks away. Incredible. Did we solve the economic problems of Mexico? Hardly, but we changed the quality of life for that family. We prayed with them everyday and told them that we didn't come as Americans, big brother of the north. We came as followers of Christ, to share his love and live out his plan for us.

3. How does your family feel about you being gone so long? How do you feel about that? I guess I can't speak with 100% certainty, but this is what they tell me. Marcy backs me 100%, because she knows I'm following the plan that God has laid out for me. She knows I'm not faking it to get out of the house, because believe me, it would be a hell of a lot easier to stay home, watch Survivor, drink a beer and yell at my kids to stop hitting each other(I enjoy all of those things). The boys are always excited because they know I will bring them something back, so that is an easy sell. If you ask them what I do when I go away, they say to help people. If you ask them, who told me to go, they say God. I feel I need to lead by example. If I want them to help others, I need to do it. How do I feel? I'm extremely sad to leave them and I miss them a ton when I'm gone. I do feel that the week (or weeks) I'm gone do way more to teach them about who God wants them to be, than the time I would have spent with them during that time.

4. What about local missions? Why not help those? Good question. There are two main things about that. The first is, there are a lot of people who help and can donate food, or volunteer to serve meals at a shelter downtown, or volunteer at any of the other local charities or missions, but not everyone can, or is willing, to travel too far away places to do Gods work. Does that make me better than those that don't go? Or make the work I do more important than someone who helps at home? Not at all, both of these things are important. I hope that the people that are called to help locally are answering the call. These are just different ways to help people, no better or no worse. The second reason is, focus. When I'm at home, I have a hundred things pulling me this way and that, as I'm sure you do as well. It's very difficult to work another commitment into the schedule. Is that a lame excuse? Yes and I'm aware of it, but there is truth to it as well. When I know I'm going on a trip, I get everything I need to get done, then I leave. Then, for the next week, I focus. I focus on the reason I'm there. I become immersed in it. I focus on the people I'm there to serve and the people I'm there serving with. I pray, a lot. I listen to my fellow missionaries and I learn. I laugh. I relax. I have no TV, no newspaper, no phone, no appointments, no meetings, no distractions. I have God. I have life. A life most of us know nothing about, because it is poverty, it is dirty, it is real. I see happiness, in the midst of what we would think would be misery. But I also see people who struggle to feed their children, clothe them and put a roof over their head. I see people who give me far more than I could ever give them.

5. Are you scared? Shitless, times 100.

6. If you are scared, why do you continue to go? If you have seen the trailers for the Bill Maher movie, Religious, there is a clip where he is talking to a guy who looks like the stereotypical Jesus, and the guy asks Bill, "What if you are wrong?" Bill isn't a believer and I'm guessing his movie tries its best to disprove all religions. Bill replies with something that I just don't get, he says "What if you're wrong?" Really? That's your comeback. I'll tell you, if I'm going to be wrong, I'd rather be wrong listening to God, than ignoring him. Once you come to your judgement day, what will your come back be to the question, "Why didn't you listen to me?" I'm sure these words coming from God would be a lot scarier than those same words that came out of my mothers mouth, about a million times. This isn't a blind faith, I've done a little reading on the subject, and will continue too, because it's still a little confusing to me.

7. Is it safe? As safe as it can be. I'm not fully up to speed on South Africa yet, but I know in Mexico, we take care. We stay inside after dark. We stay in a group. We haul all of our own food and water. We take precautions and I've never felt unsafe, excluding the first time I went and spent the whole time wondering what in the hell I was doing in a country I didn't speak the language and building a house that I had no skills to offer.

So I hope those people had the experience of a life time. I hope they enjoied their time and were able to see the difference they made in the people they served lives. I hope they have been challenged to do it again, or to do something else, whether it be local or global. I wish they weren't needed.

And your point is?

Very few of my blog post have a point. Don't get excited, this one doesn't either. A few observations I had this week.

First, I've mentioned in the past and even just a few posts ago, about the "Next Blog" button at the top of my bolg that I like to hit. Something else I noticed other than the numerous knitting blogs, is that the format of my blog is a bit dated. I'm amazed at some of the backgrounds, apps, video's and other things that people have figured out how to get on their blog. I've been doing this blog since July 21st, 2007, and I just figured out how to put music on my blog. Perhaps I need to look into the other stuff available, but then again, I'm not trying to impress anyone.

Along that music line, I noticed something on my own blog. One of the songs I added to my playlist, is "I'll Fly Away," which I talked about on an earlier post. The version that you may be hearing now is by Jars of Clay, I don't think they have the old school groups on the site I pull my music from. I love the song and Jars does a good job with it, but there is an issue with putting that kind of music on MY blog. As I'm re-reading what I wrote, I realize that my post talks about crapping my pants, as I'll Fly Away plays in the background. I guess it isn't a big deal, but my words take away from the song and I felt a little uncomfortable reading the words I wrote, while "To a home on God's celestial shore" is sung in the background. Maybe I need to switch over to some Red Hot Chili Peppers when I write stuff like that.

I learned a new lesson this morning, that you may or may not have ever experienced, depending on where you live. We had a little snow last night. Enough that I wanted it off my driveway, but not enough that I need to use the snow blower. I headed out with my new shovel, since my last shovel was ground down to the handle. My new shovel was made here in Iowa and I was told by the hardware store guy, that it was indestructible. I won't doubt him, since he knocked the crap out of one of the shovels at the store to show me. I told him I was sold, but would buy the next shovel on the rack and not the one he just beat into the floor for five minutes, just in case. The boys "helped" and we got our driveway cleared. Our neighbors a few doors down are out of town, so I told the boys we needed to clear their driveway as well. Here is the part I learned. When you clear someone else's driveway, you have no idea where the rises in the cracks of the concrete are and are in imminent danger of causing bodily injury to yourself as you push your shovel through the snow. One raised piece of cement and you drive your shovel into it, which causes the handle to hit you in the pinatas. Luckily, their driveway was in much better shape than mine, so I didn't have that many rises, but one is all you need.

Another example of how I'm a bad influence on Marcy. We took the boys out to lunch at a place that kids eat free on Saturdays and met some friends. That was great. These were kids that Marcy watched when she did in-home daycare and of course, they are all grown up. On our way home, we were sitting at a red light when I looked over and saw a lady in the passenger seat with their Schnauzer dog sitting in between her and the driver. I told Marcy to try and get the dog to bark. I know, childish, but in my head, I hear that dog bark and watch the lady shit herself and probably beat the dog. OK, now that I think about it, could have been mean to the dog, but at the time, I thought Marcy would laugh and give me the "That's mean," speech that I've heard 1,000 times. To my surprise, she started making faces and barking at the dog. The lady didn't see us, but the stubborn dog wouldn't bark. He made a move that made me think he was going to, but alas, we left the light disappointed. Marcy and I had a good laugh. I asked her, of all of the things I've asked her to do, what made her pick that one to try. Maybe she is loosing her ability to deny me my laughter. This could be good, I've got all kinds of ideas. My little brother and I, when we were kids, used to take the little packets of Koolaid and slip them in grocery carts when the carts owners weren't looking. In those days, the customer didn't empty their cart, the checkout person did. We thought it would be funny for people to either notice at checkout, or even better, when they got home, that they had these little packets. We never got to see the end result, but it was a challenge to get them in the carts un-noticed. Plus, we were laughing so hard, people probably figured it out later, but it was harmless and amusing, to us. I know my sisters are going to want to tell the story of this same brother and I knocking over an entire rack of socks at a store, but that has nothing to do with anything. That was an isolated incident of extreme embarrassment, for all of us. The socks were on those funny little hangers they use to come on and I think they might actually be on dress socks. That rack fell like a tree and the socks, surprisingly, scattered like marbles on a tile floor. There were fricking socks everywhere. For some reason, our decision to run and pretend we knew nothing of it, did not sit well with our sisters, so we had to "hang" them back on the rack. And by "hang" I mean we set up the rack and tossed the socks on it like were decorating a Christmas tree with wet towels, then we ran. I felt sorry for the poor low person on the roster who had to re-hang all of those socks. This happened 30 years ago, and I'm guessing they almost have them all hung back up. I'm amazed at how many socks fit onto one of those racks, who knew?

I'm going to toss a mini rant here at the end. On this same drive home from lunch, we came upon a long line of cars and wondered why the traffic was so backed up. I watched as the stop light that everyone was waiting at, changed from red to green, to yellow and back to red in the same amount of time that it took you to read that. I'm not exaggerating. You had about two seconds to stomp the gas and try to get through the light before it was red again, and I'm guessing the guy behind you was right on your ass trying to squeeze a second car through a light that one car couldn't get through legally. I was surprised to see there wasn't a cop sitting there issuing tickets to everyone who went through the red. One town over and the lights have cameras that catch red light runners, so my guess is, when they get this idea to head quarters, those lights will be switching just as fast, and that city will have 5 brand new schools, 2 new libraries and the fanciest police station you ever did see. Why can't we get, with all of the technology we have, lights that don't make you wait 1/2 hour when there is no one else around and .34 seconds when you have a mile long line trying to get home. Is that too much to ask?

I'll take two please.

I love people who invent things, especially if they are useful things or one of those, "Ah, yes, I need that" thing. Years ago, the new invention and joke to some, was the snuggie, or slanket, depending on whether you bought it from Target or Walmart. Two companies came up with the same idea, or one stole it, and they were off. My guess is, the snuggie people had more money or better lawyers, because I haven't seen a slanket in years. So where will the next great invention come from? Will it be in the medical field? Perhaps a new life saving device that one day, will allow thousands of people to be relieved of some sort of pain. Perhaps it will be in the food industry and we will be able to feed the world with no effort. Nope, I found the next great invention and it's called the Forever Lazy adult onesie. This will change the way you sit around and get fatter by doing nothing. Now, we won't have to bother with those cumbersome snuggies, that come open when you stand up. Nope, now you can wear your blanket like an infant, all covered up, even with a hood and a trap door so you don't have to take it off to shit. Somehow, I think if you try to go to the bathroom with the trap door, your going to need a new FEL (That's ForEver Lazy for those of you who are not cool like me), because there is no way you accomplish this task without ruining FEL #1. I say #1, because, according to the commercial, you get 2, yes 2 FEL's for the price of 1. Perfect, I may just poop in the first one so I can get that full infant feeling. Somehow, I think this thing came out of one of those weired fetish things, where someone likes to be treated like a baby. Not an expert on those, but I did see that on a CSI one time, but it was WAAAAAAY over the top, so I'm not sure how truthful it was. We have several snuggies in our house, but I can say that I've never worn it in the method in which it was designed. Somehow, I don't think we will be purchasing one of these. Just in case you think I'm making this up, here is the link and below is the picture.

Me, Me, Me

Let me start off by saying, if any of the comments in this post sound like you, they aren't directed at you. If any of the comments in the post sound like me, keep it to yourself, I have a fragile ego and will cry if you tell me the truth.

I've mentioned before that one of the things I like to do when I have a free moment, is to hit the "Next Blog" button at the top of this page and look at what other people are writing. There are a lot of blogs out there, some are really good and some are really bad, it's all in the eye of the reader. I've read a few that are deep and the writing is fantastic, should be in a book or a Christmas card, but then there are those that are jibberish, literally, or filled with nonsense because they can be. Some people just write to have their words on the Internet, or so it seems, but there appears to be no other reason that they have spewed their words on the keys that we now read. Most of those I can tell after one post, and I hit the next blog button right away. There are others that I get sucked into and end up reading a bunch of posts, and if it wasn't for my remote control life, where you just keep flipping the channels and never really watch anything, I might get to know these people, in a blog kind of way. There are a couple that I have even saved as favorites and I go back just to see if what I read was a fluke or if it is actually good. Don't for a second think that I'm putting this blog in either of those categories, it is what it is. I'm horrible at English, as my grades from school will attest, and I never took a writing class that I didn't struggle with. No, I just like to put down my thoughts in hope that one of my 5 readers will laugh, cry or think. Whether they think I'm crazy or think that I'm a genius, is neither hear nor there, it is what it is. Another type of blog that I find that surprises me, are blogs on knitting, sewing or any of the thread arts. I'm amazed at how many there are. I swear that I run up on at least one on every trip I make on the next blog trip, sometimes several. I'm not sure what the connection is, thread and blogs, but they apparently go hand in hand. Try it sometime, hit the next blog button 20 times and see if you find one that mentions some kind of sewing, that is going to be my new game. Maybe 20 is too low, there are a lot of blogs out there, but there are a lot about sewing. Another type of blog, is the doting parent blog. Holy crap, there are a lot of those. I think it's the sign of the times, that we put our kids up on a pedestal and think they are God's gift to the world, instead of what they are, which is God's gift to us, the parents. I know I'm guilty of writing things about my kids, but most of what I write is about funny things and fewer of the "Tommy went poopy on the potty" posts. WOW, thanks for sharing. I'm amazed at how much parents of infants talk about poop anyway, but to roll up on a blog about it, is not exactly a good way to spend an afternoon. I can usually only get through a few sentences and then I start to gag. I'm not saying these blogs don't have their place, quite the contrary, I think they are fantastic, just not for me to read. That is one of the things I love about my blog. I'm able to share family information with my family for them to read, when they want to. Not all of my family reads my blog, and my feelings aren't hurt. My guess is, they've read something that I have written and either gaged or were completely repulsed, either way, it is what it is. I'm not going to lie, or change my beliefs, but I don't expect you to change yours for me. I'm not a expert on anything. I'd like to think that I know how to do my job and I hope my company thinks I do it well. I'd like to think that I'm raising my kids to believe in God and family and that the best way to live your life, is by trying to be happy and making others happy as well. I know that sounds corny, but it is that simple. What do you gain if you bust your ass everyday, giving up nearly every simple daily thing, just so you can live in a huge house, drive 5 fancy cars and have every toy imaginable. The old bumper stickers that say, "Those with the most toys win" are way off. "You can't take it with you", that is the bumper sticker I live by. There are a bunch of Christian songs that address this exact thought, but you get the idea. I have nothing against those that strive for the all mighty dollar, but it just isn't in me. I currently don't know anyone in that category, but most of that is probably because I don't get out much. My life is a lot simpler and over the past year I've learned, everything you have or have planned for, can go away in the blink of an eye. Then you have what? Well, if your lucky, like I am, you have friends that truly care about you. You have family that will rip out their liver and give it to you, because you need it and you have a wife a kids that you can eat mayo sandwiches with. OK, that is a bit much, but the feelings are not. If you have an immediate family that says, "I don't care what stuff we have, or the bills we owe, I care about you." It keeps you warm at night.

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?

Since this is our first trip down the fourth grade road, we are learning the cool things that they get to do. We know the big fourth grade bike ride is coming up this spring, and for valentines day, the parents get to go in and decorate their kids desk as a surprise. I am about as artistic as a pile of, well, I'm not artistic. When the day came around, we decided that since my idea of decorating is toilet paper and candles, and both are frowned upon in the school, especially together, that Marcy should handle this one. We didn't know what to expect or what to do. The notes from the teacher warned to not get too carried away and be sure that all kids are equal. They didn't want a parent to try and "win" and bring in an X-Box for their kid when nobody else would be getting that. Marcy was smart enough to take a few things and then see what everyone else did. She said that it was crazy, that kids desks were covered with stuff and I'm guessing, didn't fall into the "don't get carried away" column. Here is a picture of Mason's desk:

I'm glad she took stuff because we would have felt bad if all he had were those chalk hearts, when the rest of the kids got chocolate and champagne. He was really happy with his desk and was surprised as well. Now when Makiah hits the fourth grade, we will have an idea on what we need to do. I'm thinking a laptop and big screen TV, we are going to win next year.

How old are you?

What did I learn about myself today? Well, I'm not as much of a big boy as I thought. The background on this is, I thought I broke a tooth on Friday night while preparing popcorn for family movie night. I bit down on a kernel and then began chewing on something that didn't quite break down as I had hoped. The pieces seemed a little sharp, so I spit one out and noticed it was white and hard, which kernels aren't usually white. I did what you always do if you break a tooth, you start probing your teeth trying to figure out which one is the casualty. I found it and went to the mirror to check it out. I could see silver under it, so I figured it was an old filling and I broke the tooth around it. I called Monday and set up an appointment at my dentist to have it looked at and they got me in this morning. I got up and showered and had breakfast, before I brushed my teeth. You always brush for a half an hour to try and make up for any lapses you had since your last checkup. I normally brush my teeth before I shower, then eat something on the way to work or at work. I always thought I did this to save time, turns out, there is a much bigger reason. As I began to brush my teeth, the toothpaste and spit mix started running down my chin and onto my work shirt, which happened to be blue. It appears I brush my teeth like a kindergartner. The sink my kids use is covered in toothpaste. Even the mirror appears to have smear marks, which means they are using their brushes as paint brushes. I've asked for this practice to stop, but I won't hold my breath on that one. I tried to get the paste drips off my shirt, but failed. I didn't realize I had failed until the water I put on them dried, revealing the paste marks as I'm sitting in the dentists chair, unable to change my shirt. Turns out I busted a crown and it has to be replaced. Maybe the next lesson Marcy and I take can be "Things you should have learned to do properly when you were 5." I wonder what that would cost.

Happy Valentines Day Baby!!!!!

I wish I were smooth, or that my last name was Hallmark, because I have so much I want to say, but not sure my feelings will be clear. I've had one hell of a year. We've been through a lot. Life isn't easy, it's hard, really hard. I've had some pretty big scares over the last year, life threatening ones, but I made it through. It wasn't my health in question, it was my heart. Not my physical heart, I'm assuming that is fine, but my emotional heart about gave out. It's one of the most emotional draining things I have had to do, and that is watch someone you love struggle with their own life, worth and dreams. I have been fortunate to be married to the love of my life for 11 years and have been blessed with 3 kids. As we struggle to keep our heads above water through this time in our life, my love for Marcy hasn't diminished, it has grown stronger. I see the beauty of not only her physical being, but her heart, which was the first thing that attracted me to her. I was fortunate to spend the past several weeks staring into her eyes and wondering what she is doing with me, as I stepped on her feet and led her through the steps we learned like I was piloting the S.S. Minnow. (Com'on, you got that reference didn't you) On the nights she is in Minnesota, my heart feels so empty, along with our bed. I pray for the day when those trips won't be necessary, I know she does as well. Through all of my frustrations, stress and overbaring organization, I hope that my love has shown through. I hope she knows that I would die for her. I hope she knows that my life is for her, that without her, I am lost. I hope she never forgets what a beautiful person she is, what a great mother she is, and that I love her. I tell her that, but now you know as well. If you don't have someone in your life to share today with, never fear, I love you as well. Happy Valentines day!

Inspiration

As you know, I'm a Christian music fan. I'm on the board of a local station, listen to that station exclusively when I can and attend as many local concerts as I can. The best thing about the music, is the lyrics have so many life lessons that you can relate to and that can inspire. I'm not saying that other forms of music can't do that as well, but they can be hit or miss. I'm a fan of the Black Eyed Peas, and they have a few songs that are inspirational like "Where is the Love," but you can't tell me that "Boom Boom Pow" brings you closer to God. I like the song, just not an emotional attachment for me. Whenever a song hits me hard, I like to share it with you, and I have a new one. It's by a band called Santus Real. I've seen them in concert a few times and really enjoy their music, but their song "Lead Me" has hit me square between the eyes. Here are the lyrics, but you really need to go to this link and see the video. Or, I just figured out how to put music on my blog, so pick it from the list in the player at the bottom of the page and read along.

I look around and see my wonderful life
Almost perfect from the outside
In picture frames I see my beautiful wife
Always smiling
But on the inside, I can hear her saying...

“Lead me with strong hands
Stand up when I can't
Don't leave me hungry for love
Chasing dreams, what about us?

Show me you're willing to fight
That I'm still the love of your life
I know we call this our home
But I still feel alone”

I see their faces, look in their innocent eyes
They're just children from the outside
I'm working hard, I tell myself they'll be fine
They're in independent
But on the inside, I can hear them saying...

“Lead me with strong hands
Stand up when I can't
Don't leave me hungry for love
Chasing dreams, but what about us?

Show me you're willing to fight
That I'm still the love of your life
I know we call this our home
But I still feel alone”

So Father, give me the strength
To be everything I'm called to be
Oh, Father, show me the way
To lead them
Won't You lead me?

To lead them with strong hands
To stand up when they can't
Don't want to leave them hungry for love,
Chasing things that I could give up

I'll show them I'm willing to fight
And give them the best of my life
So we can call this our home
Lead me, 'cause I can't do this alone

Father, lead me, 'cause I can't do this alone

I'd love to add a few lines here that would express the feelings I get when I hear this song and sing the lyrics, but I feel I would only reduce the power of these incredible lyrics. I hope you enjoy it.

The lights go dim.

No, that isn't a comment on my brain power, it's in reference to my dancing. The lessons are over and now I must take my new "skill" and apply to my life. How am I going to do that you might ask? No idea. I have no plans to hit the local clubs so I can foxtrot around the 20 something year olds, although that would be hilarious to have on tape. OK, just dated myself with the "tape" comment. Do they even make recorders that record on tape? If they do, I'm guessing you can pick one up for a few bucks and the tapes are free, if you can find them. Maybe I could try out my east coast swing to a little techno music after a few hits of LSD and a glow necklace. Wait, I don't do drugs and the pretty lights would only distract me. Maybe I could go to the place I saw on the news the other night. It's a YMCA in Boone, about an hour from my house, where a little old man has organized and run a sort of dance club, every Thursday night, for the past several years. They did a story on it and the guy said, the first night he set this up, it was him and 8 ladies. This is a smart man. Now there is a regular group, looked to be 20 or so people, and they turned it into a potluck. I think the older couples would be pissed at the "young kid" crashing their dance, and might even try to take my girl, so maybe I should stay clear. Plus a belly full of potluck and I might have a hard time dancing around. I'm not big on potlucks anyway. You never know what people put in their dishes, kind of freaks me out. Getting back to the use of my skill, I guess it will only come in handy at weddings, which I do have one to go to this spring. Maybe I should practice every night from now until then, so I don't hurt anyone.

I was driving home from work today and listening to a Christian station on the radio, when what song came on, but a re-make of I'll Fly Away. Man that brought back memories of my grandmothers house when I was a kid. She always had the hardcore Christian station on, the one that preached fire and brimstone at 2pm on a Tuesday. The music back then sounded like it was right out of the little country church my grandparents went to, and some of my family still attends. The music wasn't as polished as it is today, but the people singing it meant what they were singing, you could tell, and that made it sound better than it actually was. At the numerous funerals I attended in Tennessee for my family members, there was a choir from this little church that would sing, behind a screen so you couldn't see them. Again, not always the prettiest voices you ever heard, but the songs sound great. My favorite, which has been sung at every funeral I have been to, is Amazing Grace. I can't hear the song now without getting choked up, let alone sing it. Hearing I'll Fly Away today, took me back to a time when I didn't have any bills, or responsibilities or any idea of how good I had it. I spent a lot of my summers as a kid down in TN at my grandparents house. My brother and I got to run up and down the mountain across the road from their house, following pig trails cut into the dirt. We used tobacco sticks as horses and hay bale string as the bridles. We played in the creek, probably filled with pig piss and God knows what else, but still fun all the same. I tell the boys about chasing pigs and playing in the hay loft and they think my story about my brother and I trapping the baby pigs in the barn and then them ripping the barn door off when they tried to escape, is like a story in a book. They want me to tell it over and over again. It's funny how things trigger your memories. I know that not all triggered memories are good, but I can tell you that today, I had an extra smile on and said a little thank you prayer to my grandparents, for being fantastic people and for giving me a lifetime of good memories, that I now get to share with my kids. May God rest their souls.

Blizzard, dancing and love

The blizzard has come and gone, and was far less damaging than predicted. The worst part, as usual, is the pile of snow at the end of the drive from the city plowing the street. That one was about 3 1/2 to 4 feet high. It's hard to see, but I took this while standing in the street and looking back at my house. Hopefully you can see the pile at the end of the drive.

The drifts were bad, but my snow blower worked right through it and I didn't throw my back out. Then I gave my neighbor the blower to do the rest of his drive and then shipped it down the street to another friend who did her drive and another neighbors. The last neighbor is a Redskin fan, so he is always welcome to whatever I have, got to take care of family. The city of West Des Moines, as usual, did a fantastic job clearing the streets and the Des Moines plows had the Interstate clear down to the concrete. Like I said in my last post, Iowan's know how to take care of snow and this storm was the proof.

I know you want to hear about my dancing, so I thought I would give you a quick update on that. We have moved from the foxtrot to east coast swing. I have to say, I thought I was going to suck at this, and as usual, I was right. Really got mt feet on backwards and struggling to just not spin Marcy into a wall or run into another couple. I think I will be able to get good enough at least to dance at our friends wedding, but hopefully everyone will be drunk before I get out there and they will think I'm doing it right. I am enjoying it, but the teachers don't get my sense of humor. There were several times when I made a joke and Marcy laughed, but they did not, just stared at me, or worse. Example. We were working on the guy turning during the east coast swing. When you do this, the guy brings his hand up over his head, but close to your head, so the guy teacher said that you should give yourself a Mohawk and rub your hand across your hair. He said this several times, then looked at me and grinned and apologized, seeing as how I have zero hair. I was laughing, but said I was starting to get offended by his comments. If you know me, you know I'm always cracking jokes, so I was kidding. The lady teacher apologized for his comment. Really? I'm supposed to think he was intentionally being mean? Marcy and I were still laughing and now even more, but the lady just apologized again. The couple are a bit odd. Nice, but odd.

And finally, I have been overwhelmed with praise and kind words from my blog readers. Here are a few quotes:

"Love it! You should publish!"
"My favorite blog! It will always make you laugh!!"
"Whoever gets on first when you post gets to read it out loud.... we fight for it :)"

OK, so all of those quotes are from family, that doesn't diminish their power does it? Maybe it does, they are from family after all. The day after Marcy posted my blog address on her Facebook page and these quotes were made, I received this comment to a post I made August 17, 2007.

"What a great web log. I spend hours on the net reading blogs, about tons of various subjects. I have to first of all give praise to whoever created your theme and second of all to you for writing what i can only describe as an fabulous article. I honestly believe there is a skill to writing articles that only very few posses and honestly you got it. The combining of demonstrative and upper-class content is by all odds super rare with the astronomic amount of blogs on the cyberspace."

Now I don't know if this is one of you screwing with me, or if there is actually a non family member who liked what I wrote. I hope nobody is screwing with me, because that actually felt good to read. I know I'm not a writer, and when I go back and read my stuff, I'm amazed at my grammar errors and broken statements. I don't know how you guys follow some of my thought strings, perhaps you can't and just don't tell me. The odd thing was this comment was from a post in 2007. Did I hit my peak way back then, but every post since is crap. Ouch. Regardless, I think I'll have to start a "Review" section of the blog. And the funny thing about the Facebook post was, after she posted it, my daily hits on my site went from a normal day of 5 to 8 hits, to 32 hits in one day. Wow, I was able to offend or bore 6 times as many people in one day. That's got to be a record.

Brrrrr, I can't feel my face.

I've written alot about the joys of living in Iowa, both truth and sarcastic. I'm sure I've made it quite clear, that overall, I do love Iowa. Of all the places I have lived, it's my favorite when you factor in traffic, people, crime, and overall living happiness. If it weren't for Iowa, I wouldn't be married to my beautiful wife and have my three kids. That's not to say that I wouldn't have similar things, but that is an unknown, what I have is real. What is known about Iowa, in the winter, is you never know what you are going to get. I'm not even going to do the "Life is like a box of chocolates" bit, too used. The worst part of living in Iowa is baring down on us as I write this, a blizzard. For those of you who have never experienced a blizzard, or haven't in so long that you don't remember what it feels like, let me give you a refresher. IT'S FREAKING COLD. Lesson over. Current conditions are snow and 40 mph winds, which is a bad combo in any state, but once you get out of the Des Moines metro area, it's dangerous. The wind blows the snow across the roads, and you can hope that the snow sticks to the road, because if it doesn't, it just gets polished into a nice sheen for you and your car to slide down. When it comes to snow, we Iowan's are familiar with the stuff. We can handle it, we know how to get it off the road and most of us know how to drive in it. I would make fun of those that don't and appear to be parking in the grass on my way to work as they have slid off the highway because they thought the snow meant speed up, not slow down, but I won't tease them. No, my fear is I will end up in the ditch and have to eat crow in a future post. Not that I'm unfamiliar with the taste, just want to avoid when I can. This morning, I ran to the gas station to get gas for the snow blower, seeing as how the 6 inches that are coming are more than I want to shovel, and passed a street where a Mayflower moving truck was in the process of loading a house for it's move. My guess is, the people have had it with Iowa winters and are moving south, but that's just a guess. When I saw that truck, with the doors open and stuff in the back, my heart sunk for those movers. I was a mover once, in a life a long time ago, and moved people in the rain and snow. It sucks. Today, however, isn't snow, it's a blizzard, and I'm guessing that "sucks" isn't a strong enough word for what it is. I wish I was there when they carried out the sail, I mean mattress, and tried to get it on the truck with 40 mph. I moved someone in the pouring rain once and by the time you got the boxes from the truck to the house, they were soaking wet and starting to come apart. That was a hard rain. I've moved people in the snow where you had to clear the snow off the boxes before you brought them into the house, plus you couldn't track in snow, so I carried the box from the truck to the door, cleared it off, and the "inside guy" carried into the warm house. That's what happens when you are low guy on the totem pole. Tomorrow will be a challenge to get to work, I'm guessing, but I'm sure things will be back to normal on Thursday. As normal as they can be in AntarcticIowa.