Yesterday, we finished stage three of the Tour of Insanity®. I'm wearing the leader's jersey, which coincidentally is a straightjacket, after twenty hours and 1000 miles in the Durango (the automobile worn by football-playing lingerie models). Actually, it was a very good ride. No hurling. No real fights amongst anyone. The only rough stretch was when I was trying to take a catnap and the kids were in the back watching The Sound of Music on DVD (yes, my oldest daughter -- 6 -- loves this movie). In that funky world somewhere between reality and Slumberland, I was trying to incorporate the former into the latter. So I was dreaming that I was married to Julie Andrews, and we were fleeing from the Nazis on our way to visit grandmothers. All of a sudden she shouted out, "Watch out, a DOE, A DEER, A FEMALE DEER!" Of course, I swerved, because that would be something you would expect from me (a name, I call myself), but not before a horrendous collision with a van filled with the Von Trapp singers. I told Ray to get help, but in my southern drawl, he didn't understand that he'd have to go "fah...a long long way to run."
That's when I decided it was time to leave Slumberland and have a double shot of Starbucks.
Today is a relatively short jaunt from Denver to Craig, over the snowpacked and icy passes Eisenhower and Rabbit Ears. The next time you hear from me, I'll be in Snowy Northwestern Colorado.
12/27/2003
12/26/2003
travel day
leaving Kingwood for Colorado, with a stop in Weatherford. Hopefully, everyone will be at the malls and not on the roads.
Please pray for our safety.
I'm sorry Tony...I'll be checking my calendar for a trip to Austin as soon as I return. I will have a face-to-face Starbucks conversation with you about everything that's wrong in the world.
Please pray for our safety.
I'm sorry Tony...I'll be checking my calendar for a trip to Austin as soon as I return. I will have a face-to-face Starbucks conversation with you about everything that's wrong in the world.
12/25/2003
merry christmas
May you and yours have a day filled with the love of God, the blessings of family, and the shared joy that the Christ has come from heaven so that you could be reconciled to your Creator for eternity.
12/24/2003
this is cool
A guy who went to the same church as did I when I was at seminary has contacted me with news that his Sunday school director wants to buy a case of The Servant Principle to give away to others. How cool is that?!?
If you're interested in the book, please send me a message and I'll see what I can do about getting you info on how to buy a copy. I wish I had copies to give away, but I've already given away all I had, and we're a one-income family with limited resources for such benevolence. Really, though, it is a good book with an important message to those who would be Christ-followers. If you want more info on the book, click on the link on my right column.
If you're interested in the book, please send me a message and I'll see what I can do about getting you info on how to buy a copy. I wish I had copies to give away, but I've already given away all I had, and we're a one-income family with limited resources for such benevolence. Really, though, it is a good book with an important message to those who would be Christ-followers. If you want more info on the book, click on the link on my right column.
announcement
I'm still just a very small fish in a very big pond, but Christmas Eve 2003 marks my best month of visitation since starting this little hobby.*
Thanks for coming...and returning (most of you).
*not that I check, chart, nor obsess over this information. really.
Thanks for coming...and returning (most of you).
*not that I check, chart, nor obsess over this information. really.
oops
Cotter: Mommy...I need to tell you something.
Kelli: Yes....
Cotter: Zach and I were hiding from the monsters. He yelled out "WATCH OUT HERE THEY COME!"
And that made teetee come out into my underwear. Just a little.
Kelli: Yes....
Cotter: Zach and I were hiding from the monsters. He yelled out "WATCH OUT HERE THEY COME!"
And that made teetee come out into my underwear. Just a little.
discovery
The nephews lose interest in playing with the uncle when the uncle -- by sheer accident -- captures the snitch and unintentionally wins the Quidditch match. He is only a fun playmate when he repeatedly subjects himself to 290-10 defeats.
snl-icious
The Comedy Channel is airing the 50 favorite episodes of SNL (1980-2001). I don't have time to go through an entire list...but some of my favorite episodes (as compared to an earlier post of favorite guest stars' specific skits) are:
and as an aside, here's a link to the video of what may be my favorite SNL skit of all time, Harry Shearer and Marty Short as male synchronized swimmers.
Renee Zellweger (2001) -- Jerry McGuire 2, A Wedding Story
Christopher Walken (2000) -- The Continental, Behind the Music: Blue Oyster Cult
Ray Romano (1999) -- ESPN audition, Shirt in a Can, Roberto Benini
Alec Baldwin (1998)-- Delicious Dish (Schweaty foodstuffs)
David Duchovny (1998) -- Spartan Cheerleaders at camp, Celebrity Jeopardy
Pam Anderson (1997) -- Spartan Cheerleaders at the beach, Goat Boy
Jim Carrey (1996) -- night at the roxbury, hot tub lifeguard, spartan cheerleaders, Jimmy Tango's Fatbusters
John Travolta (1994) -- Tarantino's Welcome Back Kotter, Grease redux
Patrick Swayze (1990) -- Chippendale's competition, Ghost redux, Hans & Franz
Wayne Gretzky (1989) -- Waikiki Hockey, Wayne Gretzky meets Wayne Campbell
Eddie Murphy (1982) -- Gumby Christmas, Velvet Jones
and as an aside, here's a link to the video of what may be my favorite SNL skit of all time, Harry Shearer and Marty Short as male synchronized swimmers.
dateline kingwood
We arrived in Kingwood yesterday...behind schedule. We had to stop at Lifeway Christian Bookstore (the name of which is kinda silly, but that's only because I'm of the opinion that "Christian" can not be appropriately used as an adjective for inanimate objects such as bookstores, schools, and even some people). Kaylyn got car sick, but managed to keep from vomiting until we got to the front entry of said bookstore. It really was a Norman Rockwell moment, entitled Child Yelling at Christian Sidewalk. Proprietors were no doubt appreciative.
This is why I have yet to contact Tony, and may not yet be able to. That, and I have seem to have misplaced my celluar telephone. Hmm....I probably ought to start getting concerned about that.
Lots of stuff going on around blogdom, which surprises me since this is the time to slow down and celebrate Jesus. Even so, I apparently lost the KOB tourney (I'll link later), but haven't seen the summary results. Also, Adrian's developing an evangelical alliance that is designed to increase traffic (read: opportunity to witness) to blogs written by followers of the Christ.
Well, you'll have to excuse me, I have an important appointment to go get trounced by my nephew in Harry Potter's Quidditch World Cup competition. I promise, this in no way implies my endorsement of the dark crafts.
This is why I have yet to contact Tony, and may not yet be able to. That, and I have seem to have misplaced my celluar telephone. Hmm....I probably ought to start getting concerned about that.
Lots of stuff going on around blogdom, which surprises me since this is the time to slow down and celebrate Jesus. Even so, I apparently lost the KOB tourney (I'll link later), but haven't seen the summary results. Also, Adrian's developing an evangelical alliance that is designed to increase traffic (read: opportunity to witness) to blogs written by followers of the Christ.
Well, you'll have to excuse me, I have an important appointment to go get trounced by my nephew in Harry Potter's Quidditch World Cup competition. I promise, this in no way implies my endorsement of the dark crafts.
ode on a battle of the network stars
THOU canst express the constraint frivolity
discovered upon Trio's aforeday fame
pop, culture, television, nee virility
Scott Baio be thy name
Wherefore canst competition abound
between the ilk of Larry Wilcox from CHiPs days
vying in arms opposed on ground
to Cathy Lee Crosby regarding Simon Says
Howard Cosell with integrity lost
complementing Randi Oakes for her course
filled with obstacles yet not toss'd
claiming a title with no remorse.
Robert Hays at odds with Chad Evrett
Greg Harrison truly be Trapper John, MD
he alone conquers the tall wall of threat
off'ring CBS 25 essential marks t'ward v'ctory
Linda Carter, a Wonder Woman's weighty anchor
in the medly relay swim race warfare
Charlene Tilton filled with Dallasian Ewingish rancor
mayhaps unaware their suits be threadbare
Network braggadocia the vyers' true laurel
more important than renewal this title behold
back in the day when flag football was moral
and FOX, WB, UPN's whereabouts untold
This day long passed, our tears doth descend
satisfied instead by the marks of sweeps
Battle of the Networks stars forever portend
without such Grant Goodeve still weeps
discovered upon Trio's aforeday fame
pop, culture, television, nee virility
Scott Baio be thy name
Wherefore canst competition abound
between the ilk of Larry Wilcox from CHiPs days
vying in arms opposed on ground
to Cathy Lee Crosby regarding Simon Says
Howard Cosell with integrity lost
complementing Randi Oakes for her course
filled with obstacles yet not toss'd
claiming a title with no remorse.
Robert Hays at odds with Chad Evrett
Greg Harrison truly be Trapper John, MD
he alone conquers the tall wall of threat
off'ring CBS 25 essential marks t'ward v'ctory
Linda Carter, a Wonder Woman's weighty anchor
in the medly relay swim race warfare
Charlene Tilton filled with Dallasian Ewingish rancor
mayhaps unaware their suits be threadbare
Network braggadocia the vyers' true laurel
more important than renewal this title behold
back in the day when flag football was moral
and FOX, WB, UPN's whereabouts untold
This day long passed, our tears doth descend
satisfied instead by the marks of sweeps
Battle of the Networks stars forever portend
without such Grant Goodeve still weeps
12/23/2003
12/22/2003
mayberryvangelism
I needed a haircut. I didn't get one earlier, prior to leaving for the TOI®, for two basic reasons:
1) because every spare penny was necessary to pay for our home closing on the 19th.
2) because every spare penny was necessary to pay for our home closing on the 19th.
Even so, I was looking a bit like Doug Llewellan from The People's Court, with a raging case of helmet hair. Saturday, after some much needed slumber from the actual marathon drive across the nation, I set out on the mission to get my haircut.
Weimar, Texas, is not a buzzing metropolis of assembly-line haircutters that can be found at Fantastic Sam's or the slightly less popular Not-So-Fantastic But Still Pretty Decent for a $10.95 Haircut Frank's.
I asked for and received excellent instructions on how to locate the Weimar barber shop:
So, at ten till eleven, I embarked. Two trips through the two-stoplight town, and there was no barber shop to be found. No striped pole to alert me to its locale. No tell-tale odor of Barbasol lingering in the air.
Unable to orienteer my way to the Machu Pichu that is the Weimar Barber, I instead hopped figuratively onto Highway 90 and drove on over to Schulenburg, seven miles away. If Schulenburg is the big brother to Weimar, it's only a metaphorical 10 or 12 months more mature. Driving through this town, though, I quickly located the barber shop. It was as if it had a glow about its striped pole, a beacon calling me to its services.
Entering, it was as if I had walked through a portal in time, albeit one with contemporary subscriptions to Esquire, Ebony, and Field & Stream. The barber wore a white smock and was engaged in a deep conversation with a customer over how the Swedes and the Germans settled in this area so long ago. This customer was soon completed, and the barber accepted his payment using a highly complex financial hardware system that was a wad of bills bound by a rubber band.
The next customer sat, and the barber took out a fresh pair of snips and a black comb that had be sanitized under a radiant lamp that I think just might induce sterility with prolonged exposure. They got into a similar discussion about immigration, but this one introduced the Poles. I read my magazine, looking up and nodding and smiling often enough to appear like I fit in here. Clearly, I could not have fit in less than if I were instead waiting my turn at Ice Cube's barbershop.
Again, this customer was done, and the barber took his payment.
"Seven dollars," he said.
Seven dollars! Ka-ching!! I thought. I nearly pushed my geriatic predeccessor out the door in my hurry to take advantage of discount grooming.
He draped me in an inexpensive off-white cloth cover (that I think he used on the previous two clients, but since they were both gray-haired gentlemen, I really couldn't gather conclusive evidence) and asked me how I liked my hair cut. I gave him the same instructions I gave anyone who cuts my hair. His response, "you like it close, then, right?"
"Umm...right," I said. I think this was the only affirmation he needed to go about his plans exactly as he had intended even if I had said nothing at all.
He began shearing my locks using a clipper that hadn't been sharpened since 1957. This implement was not clipping so much as it was "gripping and rending." His right hand that held the clipper shook with an unsteady shake that overwhelmed me with a confessionally pride-filled sense of "oh my goodness what have I done?" discontent. Obviously more content with these conditions, he commenced to clipping, and, accordingly, to conversing:
He: so, are you from around here?
Me: No, actually, I came in from Georgia last night.
(abridged version for the purpose of getting to the point)
Me: Actually, I like Texas very much. I went to seminary in Fort Worth.
He: Oh! Are you a missionary?
Me: Well, I'm not a missionary, but I am in the ministry.
He: Can you baptize me right now?
Let me pause here to convey that this is not the type of thing that normally occurs when I mention my involvement in the ministry. As such, I was taken a bit off guard. Back to the conversation;
Me: Well, let's talk about that a bit...
Let me pause here to just note that we talked for a bit about the influence of his personal theology by his wife, who was "raised Catholic." Finally, we arrived here...
Me: So what about you...when you die, do you think you are going to go straight to heaven or straight to hell?
He: Well, I've got some things to work out pretty soon...I'm getting up there in years.
Me: I've got some good news for you...you don't have to wonder, worry, or wait any longer. The Bible has a good word that you can know...right now...for ever...that God loves you, that He forgives you, and that you can heaven and eternal life.
He: Show me!
Let me pause here that his statement was more of a challenging tone than it was an "I can't wait to buy your product"-in-an-informercial tone. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a hidden Daily Devotional Bible.
He: I've been reading this lately.
Me: Let's take a look at this.
Let me pause here to tell you that after a few minutes of figuring out how this Bible was laid out, I showed him Romans 10 and John 3:16. I had the honor of praying with him and he called upon the name of the Lord for salvation, based on faith in Jesus Christ. The moment after the 'Amen,' he had a question for me:
He: So, can you baptize me right now?
Let me pause here to comment that his question caused me to be challenged by church tradition, and my own experiences in ministry. I was troubled that this wasn't taking place in a congregation, in front of a group of others, in response to an invitation. But then I was reminded of this passage from the Bible. So I answered:
Me: Yes. Yes I can.
On Saturday December 20, on or around 11:40 a.m. at Loyd's Barbershop in Schulenburg, Texas, I had the distinct honor and privilege of baptizing Loyd Hemphill, immersing him in a full basin of water filled in his hair-washing sink. His was an act of biblical obedience, symbolizing death to his old life, and his resurrection as a child of God through faith in Jesus. This fine 68 year-old man has confidence in his eternal security not because of who he is, or what I said, but because of who God is, and what His word promises.
If you want to know what Floyd looks like, all you'd need to do is look at me (plus about 37 years and minus 100 pounds). We have the same haircut -- and its the same style of those two fine gentlemen who preceded me. I couldn't care less. He didn't want me to pay for my hair cut, and I refused to let him take less than $10. We exchanged contact information and have promised to stay in touch. I was so overjoyed from the experience, that I got lost three different times in the effort to return to my in-law's home. A ten-minute trip journey took me 45 minutes and 4 "now where am I again?" phone calls.
I think this may be exactly why Philip was found at Azotus. In his joy, he too got lost on the way home.
Only God could be so cool to take something so mundane as a haircut and turn it into an adventure of faith.
1) because every spare penny was necessary to pay for our home closing on the 19th.
2) because every spare penny was necessary to pay for our home closing on the 19th.
Even so, I was looking a bit like Doug Llewellan from The People's Court, with a raging case of helmet hair. Saturday, after some much needed slumber from the actual marathon drive across the nation, I set out on the mission to get my haircut.
Weimar, Texas, is not a buzzing metropolis of assembly-line haircutters that can be found at Fantastic Sam's or the slightly less popular Not-So-Fantastic But Still Pretty Decent for a $10.95 Haircut Frank's.
I asked for and received excellent instructions on how to locate the Weimar barber shop:
So, at ten till eleven, I embarked. Two trips through the two-stoplight town, and there was no barber shop to be found. No striped pole to alert me to its locale. No tell-tale odor of Barbasol lingering in the air.
Unable to orienteer my way to the Machu Pichu that is the Weimar Barber, I instead hopped figuratively onto Highway 90 and drove on over to Schulenburg, seven miles away. If Schulenburg is the big brother to Weimar, it's only a metaphorical 10 or 12 months more mature. Driving through this town, though, I quickly located the barber shop. It was as if it had a glow about its striped pole, a beacon calling me to its services.
Entering, it was as if I had walked through a portal in time, albeit one with contemporary subscriptions to Esquire, Ebony, and Field & Stream. The barber wore a white smock and was engaged in a deep conversation with a customer over how the Swedes and the Germans settled in this area so long ago. This customer was soon completed, and the barber accepted his payment using a highly complex financial hardware system that was a wad of bills bound by a rubber band.
The next customer sat, and the barber took out a fresh pair of snips and a black comb that had be sanitized under a radiant lamp that I think just might induce sterility with prolonged exposure. They got into a similar discussion about immigration, but this one introduced the Poles. I read my magazine, looking up and nodding and smiling often enough to appear like I fit in here. Clearly, I could not have fit in less than if I were instead waiting my turn at Ice Cube's barbershop.
Again, this customer was done, and the barber took his payment.
"Seven dollars," he said.
Seven dollars! Ka-ching!! I thought. I nearly pushed my geriatic predeccessor out the door in my hurry to take advantage of discount grooming.
He draped me in an inexpensive off-white cloth cover (that I think he used on the previous two clients, but since they were both gray-haired gentlemen, I really couldn't gather conclusive evidence) and asked me how I liked my hair cut. I gave him the same instructions I gave anyone who cuts my hair. His response, "you like it close, then, right?"
"Umm...right," I said. I think this was the only affirmation he needed to go about his plans exactly as he had intended even if I had said nothing at all.
He began shearing my locks using a clipper that hadn't been sharpened since 1957. This implement was not clipping so much as it was "gripping and rending." His right hand that held the clipper shook with an unsteady shake that overwhelmed me with a confessionally pride-filled sense of "oh my goodness what have I done?" discontent. Obviously more content with these conditions, he commenced to clipping, and, accordingly, to conversing:
He: so, are you from around here?
Me: No, actually, I came in from Georgia last night.
(abridged version for the purpose of getting to the point)
Me: Actually, I like Texas very much. I went to seminary in Fort Worth.
He: Oh! Are you a missionary?
Me: Well, I'm not a missionary, but I am in the ministry.
He: Can you baptize me right now?
Let me pause here to convey that this is not the type of thing that normally occurs when I mention my involvement in the ministry. As such, I was taken a bit off guard. Back to the conversation;
Me: Well, let's talk about that a bit...
Let me pause here to just note that we talked for a bit about the influence of his personal theology by his wife, who was "raised Catholic." Finally, we arrived here...
Me: So what about you...when you die, do you think you are going to go straight to heaven or straight to hell?
He: Well, I've got some things to work out pretty soon...I'm getting up there in years.
Me: I've got some good news for you...you don't have to wonder, worry, or wait any longer. The Bible has a good word that you can know...right now...for ever...that God loves you, that He forgives you, and that you can heaven and eternal life.
He: Show me!
Let me pause here that his statement was more of a challenging tone than it was an "I can't wait to buy your product"-in-an-informercial tone. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a hidden Daily Devotional Bible.
He: I've been reading this lately.
Me: Let's take a look at this.
Let me pause here to tell you that after a few minutes of figuring out how this Bible was laid out, I showed him Romans 10 and John 3:16. I had the honor of praying with him and he called upon the name of the Lord for salvation, based on faith in Jesus Christ. The moment after the 'Amen,' he had a question for me:
He: So, can you baptize me right now?
Let me pause here to comment that his question caused me to be challenged by church tradition, and my own experiences in ministry. I was troubled that this wasn't taking place in a congregation, in front of a group of others, in response to an invitation. But then I was reminded of this passage from the Bible. So I answered:
Me: Yes. Yes I can.
On Saturday December 20, on or around 11:40 a.m. at Loyd's Barbershop in Schulenburg, Texas, I had the distinct honor and privilege of baptizing Loyd Hemphill, immersing him in a full basin of water filled in his hair-washing sink. His was an act of biblical obedience, symbolizing death to his old life, and his resurrection as a child of God through faith in Jesus. This fine 68 year-old man has confidence in his eternal security not because of who he is, or what I said, but because of who God is, and what His word promises.
If you want to know what Floyd looks like, all you'd need to do is look at me (plus about 37 years and minus 100 pounds). We have the same haircut -- and its the same style of those two fine gentlemen who preceded me. I couldn't care less. He didn't want me to pay for my hair cut, and I refused to let him take less than $10. We exchanged contact information and have promised to stay in touch. I was so overjoyed from the experience, that I got lost three different times in the effort to return to my in-law's home. A ten-minute trip journey took me 45 minutes and 4 "now where am I again?" phone calls.
I think this may be exactly why Philip was found at Azotus. In his joy, he too got lost on the way home.
Only God could be so cool to take something so mundane as a haircut and turn it into an adventure of faith.
down goes frazier...down goes frazier
Cotter has a big fat upper lip. Last night, he was walking with both hands and his full attention wrapped around a "Barney Sings the Classics"-type toy. His sock snagged on to something invisible, and the hard plastic Barney toy did a poor imitation of an airbag, protecting his face from full-on contact with the hard floor. Even so, he completely split the upper frenulum (at least this is the story we're telling to CPS).
This trauma, of course, led to hysterical outcries of alarm and dismay.
Cotter was pretty upset as well. Dr. Internet has assured us this will all heal quite nicely on its own, so we have undertaken the arduous program of aftercare mocking and teasing.
When we all gather in a couple days, we should have a veerrry interesting family photo.
And just as an aside, make sure you include terms like "oral," "lip," "mouth" and "teeth" as mandatory variables when you google frenulum, else you'll retrieve a whole bunch of disturbing frenula infomation that is not mouth-specific.
This trauma, of course, led to hysterical outcries of alarm and dismay.
Cotter was pretty upset as well. Dr. Internet has assured us this will all heal quite nicely on its own, so we have undertaken the arduous program of aftercare mocking and teasing.
When we all gather in a couple days, we should have a veerrry interesting family photo.
And just as an aside, make sure you include terms like "oral," "lip," "mouth" and "teeth" as mandatory variables when you google frenulum, else you'll retrieve a whole bunch of disturbing frenula infomation that is not mouth-specific.
dr. google, md
I must be griping about my recent ulnar compression too much, since my banner advertising promotes devices to ameliorate common workplace injuries due to repetitive motion (which, is, of course, a misdiagnosis). Duly noted, I'll not whine about this any more.
Until the next time.
Until the next time.
checking in
I'm in Weimar, Texas....I'll write more soon. Lots of stuff to talk about, including the journey across the country, Cotter's fat lip, and baptizing a barber.
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