ANOTHER LAW ON THE BOOKS

New York City has done it. They accomplished that most important of all prohibitions, the banning of trans fats from all of their restaurants. Read about it here.

I guess if we try really hard, next we can ban breathing polluted air. And after that, we can ban baseball caps, Red Bull, Snickers bars, and String Cheese.

What a world.

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER TWENTY-THREE

Tip of the day:

When dining at a bachelor's house, don't bother asking him, "Where are the napkins?"

He's bound to tell you, "just wipe your hands on your pants", even if you are the pastor's wife.

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER TWENTY-TWO

Tip of the Day:

When wrestling alligators, always remember that it is much easier to wrestle one at a time.

Two could prove a bit troublesome.

FREEDOM, NOT WAR

I am a history reader. I grab as many books as I can find on history, and recently, I have been reading about World War Two as well as World War One. Without a doubt, the one thing that impacts me most about these wars is the suffering of the innocent, those whom no one could call combatants.

I shake my head and my heart as I read about atrocities committed against them; about death visiting the citizens of a simple small town or a farm in the countryside.

Then I shift my focus to the news for the last week or so, and I listen to a dozen talking heads, as they diligently argue whether the war in Iraq is a civil war or not.

We are arguing about what type of war is being fought in Iraq. Does it really matter what name you give the war? Has anything changed?

As far as I can see, innocents are being slaughtered, the poor and the downtrodden are made more so, and children are being exploited and killed. Fathers and Mothers leave for the day, and don't come home, ever again.

A fragile nation struggles towards some form of government, be it democracy or some other type. But beneath the surface lies the one thing that every soul longs for; freedom.

It doesn't matter if this is a civil war or not. It doesn't matter if democracy reigns or not. What the soul wants is freedom, and the war in Iraq is pitted against it.

What kind of a nation are we that we spend hundreds of hours arguing whether or not this war is a civil war or not? If we get the name right, does it mean that everything will turn out peaches and cream? I think decidedly not.

All of the intelligence and thoughtful conversations about what to call this war show one thing; we are committed to arguing about nothing, and thus, we are committed to accomplishing nothing in Iraq, and in any other place where we set our talking heads down upon.

Meanwhile, deep in the souls of the silent, the unheard from, the people who should be on the nightly news, freedom goes untalked about, hopes of a society where a man or woman can semi-determine their path is being lost.

I cry about this. I cry because it seems as if we haven't learned the lessons from the first two world wars.

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER TWENTY-ONE

Tip of the Day:


Never, ever, hide weapons of mass destruction in your own backyard. Bury them, instead, in one of your neighbor's.

SNOW BLIND

I saw such beauty that I had to stop paying attention to the road, and start taking pictures.

On Friday, we experienced a small snowstorm, which began around seven o'clock in the morning, and subsided sometime early in the afternoon. I managed to experience more of the storm than most, having to drive eight miles or so to the end of the road I live on, several times, in the heaviest moments of the snowfall.

As I was driving, I enjoyed the silence that comes with a snowfall. That was about all I could enjoy of my drives as the roads were treacherous in every location.

One of my customers lives at the end of my road, and Friday was the day we had scheduled for me to begin installing their new kitchen. I worked for eight hours, keeping in mind all of the while that my large driveway was going to be full of snow when I got home. Snow blower notwithstanding, cleaning the snow from my driveway is never pleasant, because the wind seems to come from every direction at once. Have you ever breathed super-cooled snow? It can freeze your lungs in an instant.

But before I could arrive home, I once again drove the eight miles of forest road home. I love the road I live on; the scenery at just about any moment is enough to knock your socks off. But this day, I had a special treat. I drove that old forest road just after the snow had finished, just as the sun began peering through the clouds; just before the snow had a chance to fall from the branches and pine trees, but not before the roads had been plowed at least a little bit.

I saw such beauty that safety was forgotten for several minutes, as I pulled my camera from my console, turned it on, and began snapping pictures. I am sorry to say, the pictures are only a shadow of the actual beauty, because to see this beauty in all of its glory, you have to be there; you have to see it not only with your direct vision, but with your peripheral as well. To see all of the beauty, you have to look at it as it happens. A photo does a nice job of capturing a split moment, but the scene can never be captured by a camera the way your eye sees it.

I share with you a mere glimpse of the beauty I saw. Even as I look at these pictures, I find myself marvelling at this creation, in wonder at the God who uses color when he never had to, who paints scenes we will never forget, or never expected to see in the first place.

Be sure to click on the images for a larger picture. You can begin to see more beauty if you do. It's not like being there, but it's as close as I can bring you.

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER TWENTY

Tip of the Day:

Don't do crack.

Any questions?

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER NINETEEN

Tip of the Day:


Prunes in the morning wipe a sour expression off of any face later in the day.

CRACKED RIBS?

I guess I have to admit it now. Last week, when I returned from my hunting trip, I jokingly made reference to the fact that you could get hurt falling twelve feet from a ladder.

It's true, you can. It happened to me. I had hoped by now I would feel better, but it is becoming clear that this process is going to be a slow one.

I bet you might be wondering what I injured? I'll make no secret of it anymore. I thought I had merely bruised my ribs when I fell, and expected a full recovery from that in a week. Well, it's been a week, and the recovery isn't happening. I am as sore in my ribs this morning as I was the day after I fell. What's more, there is an area that seems to be rather dented in on my ribs near the sternum. It is extremely painful to the touch and causes some pain during the day when I move and breath.

I am assuming that I have cracked ribs (rib as in singular?) and nothing more, because although there is an indentation and much pain, there is no displacement that I can feel. There is nothing medically to be done for cracked ribs as far as I know. I'll check Web MD just to make sure, but I have a feeling this is just going to take some more time.

If you are willing, maybe we could make this fun. We all have "home remedies" and "old wives' tales" we share that may or may not actually help injuries. If you have one, please share it here. If you do, I promise to do my best to try that remedy out (no matter how ridiculous it sounds), if not for healing then just for kicks.

Thank you.

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER EIGHTEEN

Tip of the day:

It's possible that "blind dating" does not mean you spend the entire date with your eyes closed.

WALKING WITH JUST A TEE SHIRT

I saw two young children yesterday walking home from somewhere, as it was getting dark. I almost didn't see them; they were dressed in dark clothes, and walking along the side of a fairly busy county highway in Two Rivers, WI. I was on my way to pick up my daughter from piano and voice lessons.

I was struck immediately by several thoughts. The first was, "Boy, they were hard to see. Don't they know to wear light clothes when walking outside in the dark?" But I also noticed that one of the boys was wearing only a tee shirt under his backpack. At this time of year, that is not very advisable. Yesterday, it was around forty degrees F. outside, and windy. There was also a dampness in the air.

The second-last thought that occured to me was that I should offer these two children a ride. Can you guess what the last thought was?

If you guessed that I didn't offer them a ride because I was worried that it might look as if I was a child predator by merely offering them a safe way home, then you are right on the mark. And rightly so, if these children have been taught by their parents, they would have refused such an offer. I myself have coached my daughter to do the same thing. After all, you just never know who is offering you a ride.

Isn't that a sad remark on our way of life?

I can't even offer a ride to two children who are walking on a country rode, one of them clearly not dressed for the weather? In fact, I don't even bother to ask, because I believe they know better than to accept a ride from a stranger? And this is right?

If this is right, then it is a very sad remark on our society indeed.

When does it become acceptable again to offer the ride, and for the children to accept? Do we have to wait until they are freezing? Does the temperature have to dip below zero with a windchill of minus twenty degrees F? At what point, in other words, is it again right to do what I consider to be the right thing to begin with?

There are very, scary creatures within our society; I know this. We have had our own evil perpetrated within ten miles of my house in the last year; a case that made national news.

But is this the mark we leave from our generation; that it's no longer acceptable to offer a friendly gesture, even a parental gesture, to children who don't even know enough to dress in light colors if they will be walking outside after dark?

My heart mourns for such a world, yet my mind has already been brainwashed into believing that things must be this way, because you just never know.

We are no longer a neighborhood nation. We are no longer a completely safe place to live, at least not for children.

I am ashamed that I didn't stop and ask; and yet I sit here as I type this, and I wonder; what else can I have done? Do you know? Is there any answer to this?

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER SEVENTEEN

Tip of the day:

Throwing a can of spray paint onto a roaring bonfire may be hazardous to your health.

Of course, sniffing the can of paint can be just as harmful, and it isn't nearly as much fun as watching one explode. (from a safe distance)

IT STARTS AT HOME

Did you ever have the feeling that there was something you wanted to do, something big, but you had no idea what it was?

Okay, maybe you had ideas, but all of them were vague and undirected?

That's me, right now. I can't put my finger on it, although I think it has something to do with serving and helping government get the house in order. That's somewhat strange, yet fitting, because at this moment in my life, I am getting my own house in order. I guess if you want to serve others, and in this case, if you are going to be a part of some solution (whatever that may be), it's best to practice in your own house first.

Six and a half years ago, my wife left me for another man. Later the following year, after deciding to file for divorce, she also decided to file for bankruptcy, but not before she had spent the prior year abandoning the financial commitments that a husband and wife seem to accumulate over the years. I was left with every conceivable bill, gathered during a ten year marriage, utilizing two incomes to stay current. Obviously, I couldn't stay current, less one income and still with the same amounts to pay each and every month.

My attorney advised me to file for bankruptcy with my soon-to-be-former wife jointly, before the divorce was finalized. Otherwise, many of our creditors may have seized an opportunity to come after me had we allowed my former wife to file after the divorce. I am still not certain how that could have been possible, that a divorce settlement split right down the middle could turn into a divorce settlement that meant I still owed for every debt my former wife reneged on.

The day my wife left me was the hardest, longest day of my life. The day I had to sign for the bankruptcy settlement was the second, hardest, longest day of my life. I looked at myself as a failure; as someone who should have been able to make everything work, but somehow couldn't. It seemed as if the bankruptcy was the exclamation point on my failed marriage, as if someone were saying to me, "Bankrupt! That's what your marriage was from day one, and that's what you are now!"

It is almost five years since the morning I spent in the courthouse signing bankruptcy papers and nodding my head as I listened to the judge grant our petition. Inside I was dying, ashamed, alone. Outwardly I simply nodded, as if to say, "Yup. I deserve this."

I am a long way from those days, and quite a few bumps in the road have occured since. Last year, I had to buy a different truck, using a car loan I obtained at twenty-eight percent interest. Truly, the options available to someone with horrendous credit records are not favorable to a comeback, but comeback I have. Today, that loan is eighteen months old, and I am a mere six months from completing the terms of that loan, over a year early. When I received the money to buy that truck, I vowed to myself that there was only one way to beat a high interest loan; and that was to never give the bank a chance to collect on most of that interest by paying more and more towards the principal balance each month until the balance became too small for the high interest rate to have much of an effect. I am sure the bank was salivating over lending money at twenty-eight percent interest rates, seeing in me a man who was maybe so grateful to receive the money that he would never dream of defaulting. In that same man, they saw a person who probably couldn't afford the only way to beat a high interest loan. They were wrong. It was hard work, and hard to stay disciplined. But the goal was worth it.

Now I am trying to buy my house back. That, too, was lost in the divorce through foreclosure. But a strange thing happened on the way to moving out of the house. The fellow who bought my house stopped by one day and asked if I would like to stay here, to rent it from him. It took me about five seconds to say, "Yes! Thank you!" I had been dreading moving everything by myself; it was so daunting I actually told my best friend that I couldn't see beyond today, I couldn't see my way through it all.

You can imagine the types of loans I am being offered right now. Interest rates are high, and they are all ARM's. That's okay. I know the secret to ARM's; it's the same way I'll deal with every other greedy, money marketing banker. I will never give them a chance to collect on that type of interest. They may have a small profit for a few years, but once my credit rating is returned to where it belongs, I will obtain a new loan with a more favorable rate, and say goodbye to the high interest ARM with the balloon payment. During the time I have that loan, I will be paying extra money towards the principal balance, offsetting as much of the effect of the interest rate as possible.

So I am getting my house back, hopefully. I am getting my house in order. I don't know for certain what my other plans are, but I know that there is more I can be doing, and I feel as if I should be serving in some public venue. I am a citizen of a free country. I feel the desire to serve. Maybe I will learn much more in this process of setting my own house in order, maybe I will learn things that can be applied to a much bigger, more complex house.

I am a fairly straightforward man. I see many things in black and white, although I admit that when it comes to people and issues of the heart and soul, grey has become predominant most of the time. But I maintain that there is only one way to serve your town or county or state or country; humbly and with gratitude for the opportunity. That leaves no room for skulduggery or for backhanded politics. Whatever I decide on, be it volunteer work, or possibly elected work, I will apply many of the life lessons I have learned through the hard times of my life.

The biggest of those lessons? I give it to you free of charge; You are never without a hope in the world, and from every valley bottom, you can see the peaks that you are trying to reach. So long as the peaks are in sight, you can find a way to get to them.

I guess I am just fed up enough with the current political climate in our local and national government to try and do something about it in my own small way.

You know what they always say; it starts at home.

SOMETIMES A QUIZ CAN BE FUN

Oh go ahead, take the quiz!! I did. Let's see your results in the comments section if you are willing.

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Inland North You may think you speak "Standard English straight out of the dictionary" but when you step away from the Great Lakes you get asked annoying questions like "Are you from Wisconsin?" or "Are you from Chicago?" Chances are you call carbonated drinks "pop."
The Northeast
The Midland
Philadelphia
The South
North Central
The West
Boston
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER SIXTEEN

Tip of the Day:

I don't recommend stapling your fingers shut if all you are trying to do is prove a point.

However, if there is some other, nobler purpose, then by all means.....