TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER THIRTY-EIGHT

Tip of the Day:


If you want to impress someone, don't tell them you are thinking about getting neutered. That's personal.

RHUBARB? NO, DUMMY! RHEUMATOID ARTHRITIS

I have taken the last three days off. I thought my body was hurting because of the twelve-hour days I had put in lately. I thought that the three day weekend would help solve that. It hasn't.

It is Monday afternoon, and I have rested more these last few days than at any time in recent memory. It's time to face facts; there might be something wrong with my body. Everything hurts, all of the joints are sore and stiff, some are swelling, and I've begun to do some research. So far, it is a possibility that Rheumatoid Arthritis is the culprit.

What do I have to say about this? Not much, except it may be time to actually go see the doc and find out for certain. It's just that I hate going to doctors (I usually reserve all of my physicals for emergency room visits; you know the type, blood gushing from some wound or other, and "hey, while you're at it, can you check my blood pressure?"). That strict regimen has worked for years, and I have been waiting for some type of emergency room visit, so I could once again cash in on the two-for- the-price-of one doctor visit. If it doesn't occur soon, I'll have to make an "appointment". Gads! Just the thought makes me want to vomit.

How certain am I about this? Not real certain at all. But there must be some explanation. I can't remember the last time I didn't swallow eight to ten Ibuprofen pills a day, even on days off. When I wake up in the morning, I take one Vitamin C pill, One "One-a Day" Vitamin pill, and four or five Ibuprofen. That's why I don't eat breakfast; I'm already full just minutes after waking!.

For now, I'll live with it. Even if it is Rheumatoid Arthritis, I don't know what can be done about it. But it sure would be nice to know I'm not just being a wuss. Or maybe I am?

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER THIRTY-SEVEN

Tip of the Day:


Never wear two left shoes if you have to make a whole bunch of right turns.

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER THIRTY-SIX

Tip of the Day:


While Acetone may be outlawed in Europe, here in America, it's still a perfectly safe way to remove unsightly scars and skin blemishes...as well as all sorts of automotive adhesives, some greases, oils, nail polish and paints. It also helps in refining cocaine. Hmmmm

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER THIRTY-FIVE

Tip of the Day:


If you can't hold a note when singing, then it's best to just sing as loud as you can. That way, people will think you are "special".

SO THIS IS CHRISTMAS

The song is my favorite Christmas song. The video, as emotional and hopeless as any depicted, gives this season the contrast it usually lacks.

It is not my intention to sadden you on this Christmas Eve. But it is my hope that as Merry as our Christmas may be, that we will remember to bring hope out of it to all those who are suffering the deepest emotional pain a human being can imagine, and in some way, may it spur us on to search for, find, and administer healing to all in this world.

God Bless us all, every one of us.


John Lennon/Happy Christmas (War is Over)

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER THIRTY-FOUR

Tip of the Day:


Some are lawyers, some are doctors. Many are bankers, business men, and computer techies. But none of you have a town named after your profession like I do. Check out Carpentersville, Illinois, baby!

I have never heard of Lawyersville, or Bankersville, or Pschychiatristsville, or
Chiropractorsville, or ITville, or Politiciansville (what a horrid place that must be), or Candlestickmakersville, or Exterminatorsville, or Authorsville, or Baptistspreachersville, or Nunville, or Nurseville, or Doctorsville, or Gangstersville, or any other profession, except maybe Bakersville.

I guess my tip is, if you want the really prestigious jobs, you are going to have to be a carpenter or a baker.

THINGS I'VE OBSERVED THIS CHRISTMAS SEASON

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

It's almost Christmas! How did that happen?

As this "season" sprouts its wings to full length, I have observed several things in the process. Here they are:

1. My daughter and I did not do a Christmas tree this year. You know what? Christmas doesn't feel any different. I wonder if there is a lesson there...somewhere.
2. I still haven't learned how to wrap a guitar as a gift. "Here, Daughter. Bet you can't guess what this is."
3. It being Christmas, you'd think the dust bunnies would head south for the winter.
4. There are so many people in this world.

Yes, I finally noticed that. I admit; it took me a while.

6. I'm ready for Christmas, and I haven't even broken a sweat doing it. Why does everyone else seem so out of breath?
7. Walmart's parking lot isn't big enough.
8. It turns out the local Ice cream parlor's parking lot is too big. There's hardly anyone ever parked there. Go figure.
9. It's really hard to pack snowballs right now. The rain water just keeps slipping through your fingers.
10. Shopping at Pick n Save on the Saturday before Christmas isn't a good idea. I saw one guy roll his eyes up into his head a dozen times as he waited with two grocery carts in the aisle next to mine. He was behind an elderly lady who somehow had enough money left over for three grocery carts. How do you do that, anyway?
11. That noise on the roof isn't Santa. It's the Red Squirrel from hell, and he's cold. Won't you let him in for a while?
12. One of my neighbors is Clark Griswold. I usually think nothing of his decorations this time of year. However, as I was walking past the power pole next to his house, I noticed a strange humming sound coming from the transformer. Do you think I ought to tell him?
13. It's cool, because ever since Clark's Christmas lights came on, I haven't had to turn on a single light in my house.
14. I won't decorate this year. The grass is already green. What with Clark and his lights, and the green grass, how much more Christmas color could a fellow want? If I need any white, I'll just grow my hair out. I'm sure there's some white in there.
15. Should I take down my Easter decorations yet?
16. I know its Christmas, but my calendar says it's July 16th. Is this wishful thinking, or did Christmas start early this year?
17. My house is a big mess right now. So, in keeping with the season, I am giving myself the gift of a clean house. Now, if I can just find that phone book so I can call a maid in before Christmas day.
18. Does the word "Yuletide" remind anyone else of donkeys?
19. I tried to lasso a buck the other day. I wanted to tie him to my sleigh so I could drive to my parent's house using an alternate fuel. Damn! They're quick! The buck got away, and now he won't come near me. I'm thinking of using a doe decoy, though. How far should I have her bend over for the proper effect?
20. Last night, in preparation for the big Christmas holiday, we got four inches of rain. Excellent!

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER THIRTY-THREE

Tip of the Day:



Never wash your hands with Nitric acid unless it is absolutely necessary.

POST REGURGITATION

It struck me today how long I have been at this blogging thing. I think my log-in button said there had been 469 posts since I first began? Is that right ? Being curious, I looked back to find my first ever post. (Don't worry, I won't post that ugly thing here, other than to say Bruce was the very first commenter here ever) It was on June 20, 2004. That means I have been in Bloggyland for two and one-half years, to the date. How time flies.

So, I asked myself, "What's the laziest way I can celebrate that, and share it with all of you?"

I think I found it. It's a post regurgitation, from the year 2004. It's called Sunday Evening Thoughts. I have not changed it one bit. My daughter is fourteen now, though she was twelve then. The list of rules still applies. Read on, and I hope you enjoy.


It’s Sunday evening, and it’s raining. What has this world done to my daughter?


I asked her if she wanted to go outside with me in the rain, and just play, run around like a bunch of nuts. You know what she did? She gave me that LOOK. You know the one. It’s the look that twelve year olds are famous for, and I have been getting it quite a bit lately.


It’s the look that asks, “Daddy, are you an idiot?” I love watching her grow up, but I’m not sure about this look. Did she learn it from me? I hope not!


And hey!!! I told her to stop growing up four years ago! What’s with this gross disobedience? Did she learn that from me as well? What punishments can I levy for this? I clearly told her, ”No more maturing, no more growing. From now on, you will be eight, forever.” What is this world coming to when our children misbehave like this?


Seriously, I am looking forward to the next few years, say four or five, with anticipation, and a very, very heavy dose of anxiety. Let’s see, she is twelve now…………..so in five years, she will be seventeen. Aaaaaagggghhhhh!!!!!!!!#@!@#!!


I have so much to look forward to, and so much to worry about. Take for instance, dating. My daughter isn’t going to date until she’s married. What’s that, you ask? “How can she get married if she doesn’t date?” Now you’re gettin’ it.


Okay, so I can’t keep her from dating, I know that. But this I also know; the poor chap who kisses her first will be beaten within an inch of his life, so he better wait until he asks her to marry him. Then, I might only pound him with my baseball bat a FEW times. We’ll see, it all depends on how I feel that day, because you never can tell, right?


Actually, none of that will PROBABLY happen, but I make no promises at this point. I just am really not looking forward to it all. I know how I was at seventeen. So she better steer clear of guys who are like I was. And I will be able to tell.


I will simply meet this fine upstanding youth at the door, ask him inside, and lay down the ground rules. Here they are, or at least a partial list:


1. Kissing is as far as you can go with my daughter.

2. Kissing is forbidden, so rule # 1 is really just built-in redundancy.

3. If you pick her up at 8:00 pm, she must be home at 8:15 pm, on the same day.

4. No driving is allowed, so rule # 3 is again, just built in redundancy.

5. If she says no to anything, and you disregard it, I will kill you.

6. If you go further than rule # 2, I will kill you.

7. If you think my daughter is a punching bag, run fast, because I’m one of those guys who LIKES hitting men who hit women.

8. Holding hands is allowed (hey! I’m not an ogre!), …………..so long as you wear surgical gloves.

9. Throw away the breath mints, or breath spray, you won’t be needing them tonight. Kindly see rule # 2.

10. Bow to me upon entering, and leaving, for I am king. : D


There is going to be a whole host of other rules, but for now, I have time, this will have to do.



Now, where’s that baseball bat?

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER THIRTY-TWO

Tip of the Day:

Just because the grass is greener on the other side doesn't mean it tastes better, too.

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER THIRTY-ONE

Tip of the Day:

All joking aside, I recommend driving with your eyes closed if you are prone to road rage. That way, you won't have to watch what everyone else is doing to piss you off while driving.

THE BEST OF TIMES

Silence? Solitude? The quiet moments when realization of a path opens for the first time? When old paths finally end, and new ones begin?

What is this hope we have, when at once we suddenly understand that within us lies all of the power and knowledge we need, and the freedom to make use of it? And how do we come to this?

For each of us, it is different. I have tried solitude and silence, as well as passive meditation while working. I have tried walking, running, exercising, sleeping, dreaming, smoking, drinking, eating, screaming, laughing, talking and listening. Answers to my hardest questions have arrived while spending time doing each of these things. Answers have arrived while I was doing nothing.

So many of us have heard that in order to hear "the small quiet voice inside", we have to be silent enough to hear it. My experience is different. Silence works. So does talking. Working works, too. Each of the items I just listed above have at times, produced moments of intense clarity and understanding.

We may call these moments "Eureka!" moments. We may call them any old thing we like, but the thrill of the moment is the filling up of hope into an emptying cup. It is sometimes the moment before we run dry, and pass out from exhaustive searching. It can be the moment right before we are about to make a bad mistake. It can also be right after we have just arrived at a different "Eureka!" moment, and even greater clarity lies inside of our grasp.

Whatever the moment is called, whenever it comes, I have found that nothing works every time, for everyone; especially not for me. Within my experience, I have learned that everything can work, sometimes, and sometimes, nothing works ever.

Sometimes we just put too much pressure on the moment, and other times, not enough. Sometimes we fight the voice within, and other times we lean too much on some new piece of knowledge, and forget that we may already know what we need to know.

In whatever way we arrive at the "Eureka!", it has been my experience that it is different each time. I have striven to force that moment sometimes, and never have I been able to bring it about on my own. The recipe was never complete enough for me to pull "Eureka!" out of the oven of my brain without just the right amount of seasoning.

I am left in the knowledge that the greatest seasoning we can apply to the greatest moments of clarity in our lives is just to live and let these moments season by themselves. Sure, one "Eureka!" moment may come some day while I am in solitude. But there is a much greater chance, I think, that it will come whenever it comes, regardless of what I am doing at the moment. The only thing I have to do at that moment is to be alive to experience it.

This is life at its most patient; beginning to understand fully that all things are seasoned not by my effort and willfulness, but by events and circumstances that are for the most part beyond my control. I do what I can do. I am what I am, and I am who I am. This is life at its best.

These are the best of times.

TIP OF THE DAY NUMBER THIRTY

Tip of the Day:

It's just plain silly to believe that a lite beer weighs less than a heavy beer.

MOMENTUM

As I have been fairly active these last few weeks in attempting to rehabilitate my life from the devastation of divorce and bankruptcy several years ago, my most recent foray has been into the jungles of home mortgages.

I have lived in the same house for eleven years; the same house which once I owned, then lost in foreclosure, rented for the last five years, and now am trying to buy back again. It's not easy arranging financing with a bankruptcy and foreclosure in the past, two items, I might add, that were more or less forced upon me as the result of my divorce. That was an extremely large and difficult pill to swallow. Swallow it I did, and I have been chewing the cud of it for the last five plus years.

I made a decision, though, about a year ago, to not be a victim anymore. I may have been a victim in my divorce, and several bad things may have happened, but I decided last year to not let those things happen again if it were within my power. This process of arranging financing has tested the resolve of my decision to be a victim no longer. It would be so easy to just whine and give up, and tell myself, "This is just too hard". Four years ago, I would have given up.

The truth is, though, that I am sick of playing a victim. I am sick of living life by other people's rules, whims, and insensitivity's. I am long sick of believing I am at the mercy of others when it comes to things like this. Please understand, the easy path would be to simply stay a "victim"; it's such a handy excuse. At least that's how it seems.

But I just can't do it. I envision MORE. I envision fully being what I am made to be, and stretching the limits of even that. Playing the part of a victim destroys that vision utterly.

I asked myself in pity the other day, "How long am I going to have to pay for the mistakes of others?" What a silly question. The truth is, I don't have to pay, I simply have to decide to forge ahead, and leave the past behind. In essence, the past is not a wall in front of me, barring my way, although it is simpler to view it as such. Rather, the past is a wall behind me, protecting me from dwelling in it, and making the same mistakes over and over again. Everything in front of me is new; I haven't been here before, and isn't it all grand to behold?

It would be so easy to just stop the hard work of arranging financing to repurchase my home. At least that is what it looks like from behind the wall of the past. But I am not behind that wall anymore, and the clearness of my vision nowadays tells me that the lie is behind the wall; the lie that shouldn't be trusted, the lie that tells me to give up. It's a lie because giving up only seems easier. There is this incredible quantity called momentum, which is easily maintained once the initial inertia of standing still (quitting) is overcome.

It's all friction. That's all that it is, really. Overcoming friction when you are already moving is actually easier than stopping and giving up. A victim would do the hard work of stopping. That victim, however, lies dead and buried behind the wall of the past. He can't come out to play anymore.