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Our Daily Thread 8-29-15

Good Morning!

Today is our 3rd Anniversary here at Wandering Views. 🙂

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Today’s pics are from Peter. 🙂

gulf bird

gulf bird 4

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And some Jars of Clay covering Depeche Mode, in a stairwell for some reason. It adds a unique sound, that’s for sure.

From Jars Of Clay

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Anyone have a QoD?

115 thoughts on “Our Daily Thread 8-29-15”

  4. Good day, night, and weekend to all.
    Kim’s lawyer funnies were thoroughly enjoyed a second time last night when husband read them. He had brought home something he had pulled off the internet about that since there are so many shows on tv about the medical and legal professions that there need to be some about the accounting profession. I will see if I can find the link.

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  7. Ugh, The emails and texts from Guy started about 6:30 this morning. People wanting to get in to see condos today–can’t get door codes until 9!
    Reports he wants me to run
    A client who thinks it will be best to take a photo of his building on a Sunday morning when there are no cars parked in front of it.

    I know these things because I have a new phone that I haven’t set it for Unavailable Times yet. I also don’t want to do that in case BG is some place and needs me.

    Boundary issues much?

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  8. Last night we had quite the lovely evening. I stopped and picked up Subway sandwiches for dinner. BG at hers, leftover pizza, and leftover fried pickles.
    Mr. P wanted to watch football so I hauled myself to the bedroom to read. BG came in and asked if I wanted to watch a movie so we found Pretty In Pink (1986), then she wanted me to play with her hair, so I brushed, braided, flipped, and stuff to her hair for about an hour. She then wanted to roll over on her back and have me tickle-scratch it. She fell asleep. I finally had to get her up and move her to her room, but there was the drama of where is the cell phone. I know why none of the children around here are getting any sleep they are constantly messaging each other. While she was asleep in my bed she got about 5 or 6 messages. I scratched her back until she fell back asleep and then sneaked out with her cell phone. I noticed this morning when I got out of bed that it was missing from my bedside table.

    I did call a family meeting last night. For an hour today EVERYONE is cleaning this house. I have already started on the kitchen. I just have to wait for the laze abouts to arise.

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  10. For Compare and Contrast purposes….but fair warning….I always found Depeche Mode a little depressing. When I think of their music I think of a dark room. AJ perhaps Jars of Clay liked the acoustics in the stairwell. It is an interesting version of the song.

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  11. I knew I would miss someone, lots of people, when I named a couple of names.
    MakeItMan made a little wooden dish h gave Elvera when he stopped by.
    She still has it in the dining room. Beautiful wood.
    MIM was with us here for a while.
    I asked Sawgunner to come over a couple of time.

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  12. So, as I said the first text came in at 6:41 the second at 6:42 the third at 6:43 the fourth at 6:44. I can’t do anything about them until 9. So at 8:14 I receive another text asking me if I “am on these”. To make a point I respond “Not yet. I was sleeping”. (technically I lied, I was drinking coffee and reading) He shoots back “Let them know please” then “You know sleep is overrated”. IT IS SATURDAY MORNING!!!!!!!!

    I used to have this same problem with my Dad until the 70 something next door neighbor told him if he ever wanted a grandchild he would stop showing up at my house at 7am on Saturday for a cup of coffee. We were both quite embarrassed by that, but he at least waited until about 8:30 or 9

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  13. And NJ Lawyer, and Coyote Blue, and Ed the atheist who got himself banned on purpose since he didn’t have the will power to stay away (and while he was trying to get himself banned, I promised him that I would remind the blog periodically to pray for him after he was gone–this is that reminder).

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  14. I used to know what those birds are. My cousin told me when I showed her the pictures. The one with the long, hooked beak is an ibis, I think. So, I’ll defer to our resident bird expert to tell us what those birds are. Cheryl- the floor is yours.

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  15. I think Coyote Blue is the young woman Janice mentioned who wasn’t sure of her identity. Sawgunner shows up here once in a while, and InButNotOf joins us for the college football poll.

    By the way, I’ll send it to AJ Monday since the first game is Thursday evening. The NCAA says they cannot start until September 1, so at least they are waiting 2 days. But college footbal on Thursday night?

    I remember several years ago, the Div II school I attended had a Div III team on its schedule, but the Div III team couldn’t start as early as the Div II team, so the game was scheduled at 12:01AM on the date the NCAA allowed the Div III school to begin its season. It was a Thursday night/Friday morning game which was well attended. But then, college students don’t seem to realized the nighttime is for sleeping, not playing/watching football.

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  18. Mumsee. I was confused when I came here.
    Still am. 😉

    Lefty Drisell, when he coached the Md. Terrapins, used to have a game at midnight of the opening day. I don’t know if they still do.

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  20. Peter, you show photos of birds you’ve seen (with very good views) and I’ve never seen except in photos and I’m supposed to know what they are? 🙂 I believe I do, actually. The top is a skimmer (note that the bottom of his beak is longer than the top–that’s because he feeds by flying along the surface of the water with his beak opens, and if he “snags” a fish, he snaps his beak shut).

    Middle is an egret. Without seeing size, I have to remember which variety has the black legs and yellow beak, and that may be the little egret. (I’ve seen great egrets and cattle egrets, but no other varieties.)

    Bottom is an ibis or a curlew, can’t remember which.

    Now I’m going to post this and check my bird book to see how I did.

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  21. The one I am thinking of was quite young and seemed to have an illness of some sort. I think she referred to herself as pan sexual, but I don’t even know what that means. I don’t keep up with all the various orientations. I just hoped she would get straightened out.

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  23. All right, I checked.Top is a black skimmer, then a great egret (I’ve only seen them in the trees, and I couldn’t remember the color of their legs, but that is a species I have seen), and then a white ibis.

    Kim, yes, Coyote Blue is a lesbian, though she tried to be respectful about it and the fact she was not a Christian and most of us are.

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  24. Peter, I find waterbirds of all sorts fascinating, though I’ve never lived anywhere near a shore. But they are so specialized. There are ducks that dive and ducks that sit on the surface and tip over to put just their front ends into the water (like mallards), so they can only eat what they can reach at that distance.

    Some birds fly over the water and grab from the surface; some fly over and dive in. Shorebirds have legs of all sorts of lengths, so they can feed from the sand, or wade into the foam, or wade in fairly deep, depending on leg length. They have bills of all different lengths and shapes, too. So some can feed from the surface of the sand and some can plunge their beak deep into wet sand and grab mussels buried a foot deep. Some can break open shells with their beaks, and some fly over rocks and drop the shellfish, and break the shells that way. A curved beak has access to different food than a straight bill, and there are several different angles of curve among shorebirds (and different directions of curve). Some strain small creatures through toothed bills (spoonbill), and some (the pelican) catch fish in a “net.” Some regions of the world even have penguins, which can’t fly in the air but effectively fly underwater to chase down their prey. The herons and egrets come in different heights, but they can stand still for long periods of time and then stab anything that moves, or they can chase prey through the water (on foot) or they (or some of them) can fly over the water and land on the water to grab something tasty.

    Many credit evolution, but I’d say we have a creative God who put creatures in place for every possible feeding niche.

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  25. Janice, I remember the young woman you are talking about. It wasn’t Coyote Blue. If I remember correctly, her real name was Heather, but I can’t remember her moniker. She joined us several months before we were kicked off, but she wasn’t around for the last few days and probably had no idea what happened to us. I really miss Drill. His improvisations were always superb; but I also sensed a lot of wisdom behind the apparent frivolity.
    To tell the truth, I also miss the two greatest thorns in the WorldMag blog’s side, Scroop Moth and Arcadia (whom I’ve always been sure was a woman). I cut my debating teeth interacting with those two. Scroop Moth always reminded me of the description of the demon inhabited body in Lewis’ Perelandra or Voyage to Venus, pure evil but a formidable debating opponent. Arcadia’s twisted arguments prepared me for how to encounter such opinions elsewhere. I know we invited Arcadia to join us when she said goodbye, but I don’t think Scroop ever knew where we went as he didn’t frequent the Watercooler Chatter.

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  26. It was good to hear opinions that differed from mine, I know. I learned a lot about how I came across to others, which was not how I THOUGHT I did. I also honed debating skills and some definite ways to NOT debate with others. There is a place for being with like-minded people and with those who thinks quite differently.

    Jesus approached people in various ways–those who were strangers, those who wanted to hear what he had to say and those which whom he had a deeper, more open relationship.

    My only experience with the music was at a step-nephew’s funeral. He was sixteen and in a car accident. An senior citizen had a heart attack and hit his car head-on. The music was a favorite, I guess.

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  27. Nice photos!

    I’d forgotten about Scroop Moth and Arcadia — Coyote Blue was always respectful and either she or someone else from the past popped up here recently to make a comment, I was kind of surprised (and realized some might still occasionally be lurking here and there on their slow days 🙂 ).

    Ed was before my time, but I do remember Random, of course, and Drill.

    I see MiM and EYG on FB now and again, but it’s not the same as the interactions we have here, of course. But EYG is still beautiful and MiM is still creating amazing bowls, tables and other wooden pieces.

    Since *real* names were not used, once someone left they were gone, pretty much. 😦 Of course, some (most) maybe like it that way. Wonder if NJ Lawyer is on FB? Didn’t someone contact her at some point (Kim?). Private message her name to me, if you remember it, maybe I’ll try to look her up there.

    There were a couple folks who were noncommittal about whether they were male or female and I think there was some speculation always about that (which must have amused them).

    “Pan” sexual is probably now a very useful term these days.

    So it’s Saturday and our mini heat wave was supposed to break today, but I’m not sure they are going to be right about that …

    It’s August.

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  28. I enjoyed Victoria. I did not want her banned. I thought the pan was Leila. Coyote Blue was very pleasant and I thought she was a Christian.but could be wrong. I was once before when I told the class in first grade that my folks were voting for Kennedy. Never really got over that one.

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  30. K, very true. Sometimes when I think of how we viewed our old opponents with both affection and exasperation, I remember how Christ loved the rich young ruler who did not want to sell his possessions and follow him. Not all our friends are supposed to be Christians and comfortable. That reminds me, yesterday I found this audio link discussing hospitality as an attribute of God and His people: http://www.mortificationofspin.org/mos/podcast/38065

    Carl, Aimee, & Todd continue their discussion on Rosaria Butterfield’s latest book: Openness Unhindered, in which they respond specifically to her thoughts on and approach to Christian fellowship and hospitality.So how do you and your church fair in these areas? Is hospitality a characteristic of God? Rosaria’s missional way of life is both humbling and challenging, offering serious food for thought on how you open your home and share your table and life with those in your community.

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  33. Mumsee, if I recall correctly (I’m pretty sure of this, but still could be wrong), Coyote Blue was a lesbian in a long-term relationship, maybe even caring for the person because she had some kind of condition that left her unable to work (I’m not sure about that part, though someone on here had that situation), with American Indian blood, with an evangelical childhood, but now not interested in Christianity but she understood it and chose to engage with it (and with us) respectfully.

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  34. By the way, I’ve noticed Xion, the snowboarder, still occasionally posts on World Magazine, and I’ve seen Buddyglass’s name on comments on various Christian blogs around the Internet. There will be probably less and less commenters building communities these days, as the current trend seems to blog but not allow comments. Challies Dot Com has shut down his comment section. Fewer people are willing to put up with the Wild West atmosphere of commenting.

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  36. I invoke my photographic memory to vouch for Cheryl’s take 🙂 I remember Coyote Blue making such comments. The last time she commented was on the day your Supreme Court handed down its decision about gay marriage. She was happy about it, but respectfully subdued; I think she wanted to know what our reaction was.

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  37. Oh yes, commenters. The newspaper struggled mightily with those in the early days — I still remember writing stories and having the subjects of those stories berated in the comments. I figured no one would ever want to be interviewed again.

    We switched to a FB format which required at least some accountability (by way of a name) and that seemed to fix the problem; although we get very few comments on our actual website now, but still a lot on our social media links of the same stories.

    Now for some comic relief, psychiatry Bob Newhart style

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  39. I forgot about Frankie/Heather. She wasn’t on here that long. And yes, I think Coyote Blue showed up on this blog (might have been the news thread).

    Somewhere I saved some of drill’s finest. I’ll look for them and post them, unless someone else has them also. They were the best.

    If you are reading this, drill, stop lurking and join us, please!

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  40. Cheryl- Now that you mention it, there were areas of the beach marked off to protect skimmers’ nests, as well as turtle nests. Florida is doing a lot to protect the rare and endangered animals it has. This one seemed also to be sticking its beak in the water while walking along. We also saw ones that were almost all white, and their beaks weren’t orange. Would those be the females?

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  41. Peter, I saved Drill’s reply when I accused him of being the grown up Calvin from Calvin & Hobbes; but I don’t have anything else. I saved most of the comments I made on World before they deleted us, but not other commenters’ comments.

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  42. You good folks should have NOTHING to do with me.

    For yesterday was an exceptionally black and bitter day, at the end. I sold my old tractor.
    Like Judas, I pocketed my 30 pieces of silver and now she is gone, gone, gone, and I—I am utterly undone.

    She was an Allis-Chalmers D-17, 1962-vintage (I have always preferred the younger gals, I am not ashamed to admit), wide front, 3 point hitch, hand clutch, good curves up front, a little wide and boxy in the rear. But so am I, what of that?

    I say ‘she’. We (the kids, when they were kids, and I) called her Alice. I suppose we gave her that name because of the ‘Allis’ in her legal maiden name. But to me she will always be just ‘Alice’.

    I got her on a whim so many years ago—saw her sitting in the lot up at Hance’s Implements, looking kind of forlorn and bed-raggled but still pretty and appealing as a kitten in a box full of straw. She wasn’t innocent, don’t get me wrong. She had seen two owners already; hard types, if you know what I mean, who ran her into the ground and kicked her when she was down and taught her the rough ways of men.

    But, once we got to know each other, it was all right. We went through some hard times and some good times, through the years since, Alice and I. Cannot tell you how many acres we bush-hogged together in sun and rain, how many logs we yanked out of the timber, when snow was flying so thick I could not see her stack in front of my face and when the wind was blowing so hard I could not hear the clacking and straining of her cylinders. I can’t tell you how many trailer loads of stinking manure we hauled from lot to field, or how many bales of hay we transported from barn to stock in driving February sleet, and through raging thunderstorms from field to barns in the summers.

    Now Alice was the typical female; cantankerous and argumentative, hard to start but interested once she got going, fickle (why when she was mad at me she would try to sneak up under a low-lying tree branch and scrape me off of her), a real coquette, as trying and exasperating as she could be—and she was expensive to maintain—she went through batteries like some women go through jewelry.

    There was something exquisitely feminine about her; for instance in the way she delicately lifted the brush hog behind her when I would take her across the creek, like a woman modestly gathering her dress up and carefully wading across the waters. And once I asked too much of her and she, with all the great heart she had, strained too hard and broke inside, and so I had to operate on her and replace her bull-gears and in that, too, I became ever more attached to her and perhaps she to me.

    But over the years her paint faded and her tires began cracking and her seals began leaking and she began to falter until one horrible day last fall she could not make it out of her shed, though she tried so very hard, and though I coaxed and wheedled her until I grew desperate.
    Well, my utterly pragmatic wife (who never liked Alice and never understood her—perhaps a deeper age-old enmity existed than I have realized?) determined then that Alice should go. “This is a business, or at least it is supposed to be, and we don’t need dead-beat equipment moldering in our buildings” she said, looking up from the scattered bills and overdue notices that littered the kitchen table.

    And so the advertisement was run and then yesterday a hard-faced short-legged man with oil-stained overalls and a trailer came. He looked Alice over with no gentleness or understanding at all, poking roughly at her with short stubby fingers, and spoke little to me except to say that she would be useful for . . . parts; parts he said, just like that, like he was commenting on the weather or something. Parts! I just about kicked him off the property then—but my wife was balefully watching from the back window of the house, and so I shut my mouth forever and thus was undone.

    And then with me standing there in silence and confusion, he roughly loaded her, wrote the nasty check against her very hood, handed it to me with a kind of sneer and wink, and drove off down the county road.

    I should say that the last sight I had of her was her great headlights (he had loaded her facing backwards) staring back at me in a sort of silent supplication and awakening realization of the terrible unthinkable thing that was happening to her, until even those headlights dwindled and disappeared forever in the distance and darkness of approaching dusk.

    And I am undone. I am a fraud, people, and a traitor, a foul Benedict Arnold, and you, as you value loyalty and honor, should have NOTHING more to do with me.

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  47. Roscuro, I encouraged him to publish, and he had some interest eventually (once he retired from farming and his job at the pallet factory), I think. Unfortunately I no longer have his e-mail address, since the e-mail account that had a couple of e-mails from him ended up getting wiped clean from inactivity.

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  49. I was thinking we had Drill back until I read Cheryl’s comment.
    Sad story. It reminds me of the time I sold my ’50 Chevvy for fifty dollars.
    My first car.
    I dated Elvera in it.
    I brought Chuck home in it.
    Lots of other stories I could tell about that 50 Chevvy.
    I bought it in ’51, sold it in ’62. Not a long time by today’s standards, but it was then.
    I paid all of $1500 for it. Lots of money in those days.
    I loved my 50 Chevvy.

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  50. From an article in World

    “Half of DC fourth graders cannot read, compared to a third of fourth graders nationwide”.

    Even that “nationwide” figure is terrible.
    I couldn’t go the second grade without being able to read.

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  51. I think too much. ;-(
    I started thinking about my 50 Chevvy. It occurred to me about how much of life is lived in the early years. They are so eventful.
    The thing I was thinking is that if I were writing my autobiography, I could write a full chapter around that ’50 Chevvy. I had it little over ten years.
    OTOH, I have had .my ranger 14 years, and my Merc for seven years, and I have no events concerning them.

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  52. Fourteen year old who does not want to do anything he has not thought to do himself, has decided his orthodontist was wrong. He pulled his two baby teeth. The ortho had said he wanted him to keep them in as long as possible. They don’t have adult teeth to push them out so should have just stayed put like eighteen year old’s did. But he decided to take them out. We told him we are not having fake teeth put in so he will have to figure that one out himself.

    He also has been looking forward to football and today had an, oh, by the way moment. He pointed out that he lost his special mouthguard for ortho work, months ago. He won’t be playing football until that is replaced.

    And somebody put sap into the key hole on my lawn tractor…. and so it continues….

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  53. Not accidentally, by the way. It was intentionally driven directly in to cause problems. Good thing sixteen year old knows how to remove same and clean it out and replace it.

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  56. I will put this on the rant thread as well and yes I do mean to shout:

    WHEN YOU ARE ATTENDING A FUNERAL FOR GOD’S SAKE LEAVE YOUR CELL PHONE IN THE CAR. YOU ARE NOT THAT IMPORTANT AND IN A TRUE EMERGENCY SOMEONE WILL FIND YOU!!!!! I MAKE MY LIVING IN SALES AND MY PHONE WAS IN MY TRUCK.
    IT WAS COMPLETELY DISRESPECTFUL

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  57. I just returned from a funeral. Jeff Ingram had been a forester before he was called to the ministry. He left a successful career and sold a business to clean toilets at First Baptist and attend seminary.
    He died Wednesday from glioblastoma/brain cancer. He died at 8:30, but his wife didn’t call the hospice nurse until the next morning. She wanted a good night’s sleep with him still in the house and without him being in pain. Her oldest daughter stayed with her. Many people spoke of what a good man he was –several ministers, his son in law, his brothers, and a minister from another church. There were as many laughs as there were tears. I looked at my friend Aunt Leesee and told her I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was “leaking”.
    I cannot imagine the composure of his widow. She was the last one to speak. She thanked the church and the community for all that was done for them the last year. This is one of the largest Baptist Churches in the area and the line was around the sanctuary and out the door to pass the casket, speak to the family and take a seat. I almost didn’t go, but am blessed that I did. Jeff also spoke at his funeral. Several months ago he videoed a message to take to one of the foreign missions that was close to his heart.
    The most touching story concerned a pecan. J and J would hide a pecan around the house in weird places so that when the other found it, it would be a reminder that the other loved them. Then they would hide it someplace and back and forth it went for years. Jeff was holding a pecan in his hands..

    He was only 58 but it was a GOOD funeral. At the end the Minister asked any associate ministers, deacons, and past deacons to line the aisle out. They stood there as the casket was rolled out and the family followed.

    I did not go to the graveside. I felt that was more personal and the family had shared enough.
    He was a good man.

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  59. Back in February when a family friend killed herself, everyone who had the ability to check BG out of school was at the funeral.—Her Nana, her Daddy, her Mother, her Aunt—EVERYONE she could think of to call was at the funeral. She finally had to call a friend’s mom who spoke with the school and told them where everyone was. The school secretary is a family friend as well so she let BG go home.
    There was a SICK child and it could have been considered somewhat of an emergency, but not ONE of us had out cell phone in the church

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  60. You can put a phone on vibrate.
    I always check Elvera before we leave for church or some event.
    I haven’t heard a phone go off in church in years.
    But our generation doesn’t expect or need instant communication.
    I did call Elvera at the grocery store to tell her to buy something.

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  61. Kim, I assume the phone RANG during the funeral? But he didn’t answer it, right?

    (I know someone who lost a promotion because he was in a job interview and his phone rang and he answered it! I believed the story when I heard it, because I was in a professional meeting with him–just him and me–and twice his phone rang and he simply said, “Excuse me” and answered it. If he could answer the phone twice in a meeting of an hour or less, and do it so matter-of-factly, then yeah, I’m sure he did so during the job interview that was supposed to secure his promotion.)

    I don’t use my phone much, and it’s often in my purse, and quite a few times I’ve remembered after church that I have my phone with me and it’s on. No disrespect intended; I just don’t talk on the phone much now that we’re “cell phone only” and I don’t think about it. It rings twice a week at the most, since nearly all my communication is e-mail.

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  63. Chas and others make a good point that politicians should always assume that a camera is on them or someone is always watching and hence should try to act minimally intelligent, which can be a real challenge for the average politician.

    However that advice goes for regular people, like us, too.

    For instance: Several years ago, I was coming home in my 1982 Ford pick-up truck. It is a sort of classic but still has a few problems, like the fact that the only thing that kind of holds the back end of the truck to the frame is (customized) steel straps and extra large bungee cords (it sort of shimmies but still holds together). For various reasons like that and also including the muffler problem, it attracts a good deal of attention, which is fine with me, most of the time. Another problem with this truck, relevant here, is that anyone OUTSIDE the truck can see exactly what is happening INSIDE the truck (no tinted windows or anything like THAT, you know).

    The truck has the old-fashioned little side wing windows – the kind that you can push out and direct the air flow right over you. Not very good for aerodynamic drag but great for a vehicle without air conditioning during the summer.

    Well, it was high summer and I was driving on Main Street with the passenger side wing window open just about the time when work traffic had picked up. It had been pretty hot all day but had just clouded up and as I came up to the main intersection (stop light) it began pattering rain, preliminary to a thunderstorm, I guess. The light changed to red and I eased to a stop with the usual clanking, panting sounds. There were cars filled with people staring curiously and cautiously at me from in front, on both sides, and behind me. I was quite visible, if you get my drift.

    Well, while the light was red and I was stopped anyway, I decided I needed to close that little side wing window on the other side of the cab. Now, I had my seat belt on and did not want to take it off (in recent years the distance between the steering wheel and my body has inexplicably shrunk, such that it is getting harder and harder to get a seatbelt around myself). All I needed to do was PUSH the little window closed (no need to latch it) but it was way too far to reach from the drivers seat.

    Well, I am the innovative type. I look around and see an UMBRELLA on the seat beside me. It is one of those spring action types, where you just push the little lever on the handle and the umbrella shoots out to four times its original (closed) length. There is a little Velcro strap that holds the umbrella together, too. The umbrella was closed.

    My brain went into overdrive – it occurred to me that I could maybe close the window by holding the umbrella handle and then simply PUSHING on the window with the very tip of the umbrella.

    Well, I tried and it did not reach the window. The umbrella was simply too short.

    Then it hit me. I could get the umbrella to LENGHTEN by simply PUSHING the little lever on its handle. Then it would be laughably easy to push the window with the tip of the EXTENDED umbrella, you see. This idea was actually very intelligent, when you think about it. Not everyone would think creatively like this.

    The light changed to green. I had to hurry. So I pushed the lever of the umbrella.

    Unfortunately, I had forgotten to check to see that the Velcro strap was fastened around the umbrella.

    Several things happened very quickly. The umbrella shot out, just as I had intended. Unfortunately it also OPENED.

    It was a BIG umbrella, too. It filled the entire cab and the tines of the thing reached out like giant claws and firmly grabbed the dashboard, seat, and steering wheel. I was struggling to get it unstuck, flailing manfully away at it, but it would not close at all and I could not see anything out of the windshield with it all jammed into the dashboard, and the cars behind me were starting to honk their horns and people were sticking their heads out of their windows with startled and incredulous looks on their faces. It must have looked like I was having a death struggle with a huge black prehistoric reptilian bird in the cab of my truck. It was getting the best of me, too, what with its sharp steel spikes puncturing my skin and its great wings beating and scratching at my face.

    Somewhere in my struggles with this deranged umbrella, one of the tines of the nasty thing apparently purposely caught the gear shift (or maybe my flailing foot hit it) and the truck popped into reverse and began inexorably backing up toward the line of cars behind me. At this point, I had lost control of the vehicle and the umbrella was now driving, albeit very slowly. The cars behind me began frantically backing up and beeping their horns. Then, the umbrella suddenly grabbed the gear shift and yanked the truck back into drive, hit the radio on button, spun the channel selector to some station playing ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ and turned the volume all the way up.

    Well, I finally realized that I was just flat beat. I managed to kick the driver’s side door open and exited the cab in a sort of commando dive. Fortunately, as I escaped, I managed to hit the ignition and cut the engine off before the umbrella could respond. It was stymied then, and it crouched in the cab, looking sullen, holding the steering wheel with its tines, flexing its spikes provocatively, its great black canvas pieces (shredded now by my heroic struggles with it) burbling and straining in the wind, even as the last stanzas of ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ reverberated everywhere through the now completely paralyzed Main Street intersection.

    So, the bottom line, here, is that we ALL (not just politicians) should be VERY careful about what we do, especially when other people are watching. Even totally ordinary people, like me.

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  64. There were at least 5 or more that I heard. I was in the right center of the church. There could have been more that I didn’t hear. No one answered, but the only life or death situation what lying at the front of the church.
    It happens every once in a while at my church. Once it was really loud and the priest stopped his sermon, smiled at all of said, said he had always wanted to do this…He started clapping and singing some song called Jesus Calling on the Main Line.

    I think it is RUDE. I don’t trust turning mine on silent or vibrate. I would be mortified it is rang at the wrong time.
    Along the lines of your above example, I have been in situation where I have answered the phone, explained I could not talk right then and when I was done I would call them back. To me the flesh and blood human sitting in front of you is more important than anyone on the phone.

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  65. Fourteen year old boy had another meltdown again as husband was preparing to leave. He did not go as far this time but his brother was right in his face. He does not do well when husband leaves. He can not abide a female in control. Doesn’t bode well for his school time or military life.

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  66. On a whim today I filled out a job application at Williams Sonoma. While part of me doesn’t want to work a second job part of me is sort of excited. It would just be seasonal work going through Christmas, but it would be extra money. It would be a 40% discount on some things I want. It could be fun. I used to get a rush out of retail at Christmas…..

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  68. I keep my phone on vibrate or silent all the time and never use the ringtones. Partly because I don’t like any of the ones that came with the phone, and partly because I can never hear the phone while in the car. But then, I drive in Illinois a lot and it is illegal to use a hand-held device while driving.

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  71. You should never lie to your wife. You should just be CLEVER about answering.

    For instance, if my wife asks “Honey, did you take out the garbage?”

    Clever answer: “Yep.” (I took it out last month.)

    Or if she asks “Did you eat all the cookies again?”

    Clever answer: “Nope.” (I ate all but one, which I am keeping in the breast pocket of my overalls for emergency use in case I have a sinking spell.)

    Or, maybe she asks “Where WERE you all yesterday afternoon?”

    Clever answer: “I was helping Roy inventory his stock.” (Roy and me were fishing in his pond and lazying around in the shade of the trees drinking soda pop and swapping tall tales – he has his pond stocked with trout, or claims he does, although all I ever see in it are bad-tempered snapping turtles.)

    Or (she asks): “Why is there dirt and mud ALL OVER the seats of my car?”

    Clever answer: “I gave a lift to three poor dejected wretches I found wandering on the county road; they were footsore and tired and dirty – I could hardly call myself a Christian and not stop and pick them up. Like I told you, when the economy goes bad, there are more and more poor souls out on the road that need charity.” (Three of my dogs were out on the county road and it was raining and they were plumb wore out from chasing rabbits and getting into the neighbors gardens and rolling in manure piles, so I felt sorry for them and invited them into her car for a ride home. It was not my fault they didn’t wipe their feet before jumping in – teaching children and animals manners is my wife’s job, anyway.)

    If you are clever, you don’t have to lie, and you can STILL get away with a LOT.

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  72. (Someone suggested that Drill’s additions to the blog could be “drillbits” and this was his story answer to the term.)

    I don’t think that ‘drillbits’ was meant in a complimentary fashion by Steveg yesterday.

    Also, it does unpleasantly remind me of what was scattered hither and yon a few years ago, after I had an unfortunate encounter with a deranged, homicidal roto-tiller.

    So I don’t think much of the term ‘drillbits’, myself. It stirs up bad memories.

    Oddest and most terrifying piece of machinery I have ever had, that roto-tiller.

    The picture on the front of the brochure when I bought the thing showed this doddering old white-haired man standing (practically asleep from boredom) beside it with one hand resting lightly on its handle (almost caressingly) as it contentedly and lanquidly roto-tilled the good earth.

    The reality of the thing was much different; this roto-tiller would literally dig itself in a mad churning frenzy deep into the earth and attempt to pull me in with it. Then, thwarted, it would launch itself rocket-like at a nearly vertical angle from the crater it had just dug, become briefly and spectacularly airborn, clawing and slashing at the air like a maddened animal, all the while slamming me around behind it like a rag-doll, and it bellowing and roaring in rage and frustration.

    Eventually I would manage to let go and the thing would race madly across the garden, through the strawberries, pause to eat a panicked chicken or two, finally fetching up against the fence, where it would turn over on its side in a temper tantrum and begin chewing and thrashing and spitting its way around and around in an ever-widening circle.

    It was thus in one of its fits that it reared up and attacked me as I manfully tried to reach in and shut the gas off to it.

    Drill-bits everywhere. I REALLY don’t like seeing the exposed bones in my hand, I can assure you of that.

    Even now the roto-tiller squats in one of my locked outbuildings and ever broods in its dark mechanical heart, its black oily blood slowly and hideously re-circulating deep within its hidden steel arteries and veins; ever broods and dreams of strange and alien things, things mercifully hidden from the ken of Man.

    It waits. It waits and bides its time.

    And I? I fear. I fear the Spring.

    I fear the time when the garden must be turned, when the door must be unlocked, and the monstrosity unleashed yet again.

    So if I suddenly and forever disappear from these threads this April, good friends, know that I met my fate bravely, at least.

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  74. Hmm, I put another one on here, but somehow it didn’t seem to post. This was Drill’s response to the invention of the term “Drill bits” for his contributions to the blog . . .

    I don’t think that ‘drillbits’ was meant in a complimentary fashion by Steveg yesterday.

    Also, it does unpleasantly remind me of what was scattered hither and yon a few years ago, after I had an unfortunate encounter with a deranged, homicidal roto-tiller.

    So I don’t think much of the term ‘drillbits’, myself. It stirs up bad memories.

    Oddest and most terrifying piece of machinery I have ever had, that roto-tiller.

    The picture on the front of the brochure when I bought the thing showed this doddering old white-haired man standing (practically asleep from boredom) beside it with one hand resting lightly on its handle (almost caressingly) as it contentedly and lanquidly roto-tilled the good earth.

    The reality of the thing was much different; this roto-tiller would literally dig itself in a mad churning frenzy deep into the earth and attempt to pull me in with it. Then, thwarted, it would launch itself rocket-like at a nearly vertical angle from the crater it had just dug, become briefly and spectacularly airborn, clawing and slashing at the air like a maddened animal, all the while slamming me around behind it like a rag-doll, and it bellowing and roaring in rage and frustration.

    Eventually I would manage to let go and the thing would race madly across the garden, through the strawberries, pause to eat a panicked chicken or two, finally fetching up against the fence, where it would turn over on its side in a temper tantrum and begin chewing and thrashing and spitting its way around and around in an ever-widening circle.

    It was thus in one of its fits that it reared up and attacked me as I manfully tried to reach in and shut the gas off to it.

    Drill-bits everywhere. I REALLY don’t like seeing the exposed bones in my hand, I can assure you of that.

    Even now the roto-tiller squats in one of my locked outbuildings and ever broods in its dark mechanical heart, its black oily blood slowly and hideously re-circulating deep within its hidden steel arteries and veins; ever broods and dreams of strange and alien things, things mercifully hidden from the ken of Man.

    It waits. It waits and bides its time.

    And I? I fear. I fear the Spring.

    I fear the time when the garden must be turned, when the door must be unlocked, and the monstrosity unleashed yet again.

    So if I suddenly and forever disappear from these threads this April, good friends, know that I met my fate bravely, at least.

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  76. This is Drill’s answer to me about the fate of Calvin and Hobbes:
    “While everyone need not grow up, we all must move on.
    Hobbes retired to India on all the money the strip made in marketing. He eventually reverted to the wild (he always thought he would, you know), fell in love with a young and svelte and muscular green-eyed tigress who gives him all the smooches he wants, and they raised a family.
    He is quite happy and hardly thinks about the old days anymore, except maybe ocassionally, say on drowsy hot afternoons, when the water is shimmering in the sun through the reeds, and he lies dozing amidst the dark green shadows of his jungle, his whiskers combed by his wife, and his belly full of villagers. And then perchance Hobbes remembers – or dreams – dimly fleeting and strangely disconnected things about water ballons and Calvinball and being President for Life of the Get Rid of Slimy girlS (GROSS) Club.
    And Calvin? He transmogrophied himself permanently into a Giant Amazonian Tapeworm and now lives quite comfortably in an up-scale Girls Boarding School in Manchester, in a display aquarium. He performs regularly, with the expected (and gratifying) reactions from his endless audiences of girls, and so is very happy.
    He hardly ever thinks about the old days either, except during the Holidays, when the girls are all gone and there is no one left to gross out except the crusty old custodian, and the snow is rattling against the windowpanes. And then perhaps he remembers something about hot cocoa and lying in front of a fireplace with a tiger . . . but then even that fades.
    While everyone need not grow up, we all must move on.”

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  77. Make It Man, “Cameron”, & “EYG” are my friends on Facebook. Sawgunner is also on FB, although not a FB friend of mine, but I see him commenting on mutual friends’ (like Kim & “Cameron”) posts.

    Ed, Anlir, & & some other unbelievers have been mentioned. Does anyone remember another unbeliever from WMB named Franklin? He had lost a child, a daughter, I think. Somehow, he & I kind of clicked a bit, & he was on my heart. I was dismayed when Weekenderman (later Outkast) called him a “loser”. I ended up having to apologize to Weekenderman for saying that I thought that was uncalled for.

    He used the scripture about going in private to a brother. But my thought was that he had said that in a “public” place, & it seemed to me appropriate to say in that same place that what he said was uncalled for & rude. Maybe I was wrong about that. I did apologize to Weekenderman, but he never apologized to Franklin. He justified his words somehow. That disappointed me. (Other times, he & I got along great, & we even exchanged emails several times.)

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  78. i am friends with Weekenderman. He married in September of 2007. He and I talked on the phone quite a bit and I called him when I realized my father was dying. When he realized I wasn’t his sister calling to tell him their father was dying he calmed down and was wonderful. He prayed and prayed with me. The morning Daddy died I couldn’t contact all of you. I called him and asked him to log into world and let all of you know that Daddy was gone. We still communicate but both of us are respectful of the fact that we are each remarried.

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  79. Someone mentioned Victoria. I remember her. I think I labeled her “Boldoria” since she often (too often) used bold print in her diatribes against one thing/person or another. I suppose she was a nice person in real life, but on the old WMB she had a bad reputation for upsetting almost everyone.

    But she had her funny side. Like the pink flip-flops. Then there was the time when Lynn was away for a few days and Victoria claimed the title of temporary blog ruler. If someone displeased her she said she had a bong she would use on us. Someone pointed out what a bong is in modern usage, but Victoria would never understand that she was making a fool of herself in her ignorance of modern usage.

    And why does WordPress keep logging me out when I close the window?

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  80. Come back, Drill.

    It was SO hot (again) today, that after the dog park (where it was weirdly not freezing) I took the dogs to the cliffs for a short walk (and sit time for me), just to enjoy the “cool” (75 degrees) weather and the colorful sunset. Lots of folks out there, so we had to endure the rap music coming from radios, WiFi “devices” and gangster low-rider cars parked along the curb.

    I’m watching “Cars” tonight. But earlier I had to set up a little fan in the kitchen (as it was mission casserole — Mexican lasagna, mmm, bought extra for a ‘junior’ casserole for me — weekend for our church) so I could do some cooking.

    I was pouring sweat anyway.

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  84. There was a lot of pain behind Victoria. My impression is that it involved a child. Perhaps she had adopted and the birth parents came back and took the child. (At least that is what I thought happened. I have no proof). She emailed me a few times and was quite nice and sympathetic, but on the blog when she went on the attack it was gloves off and certainly no Marquess of Queensbury Rules. She went after whoever and whatever with all teeth and claws bared.
    I once wrote that if she were the only “Christian” I ever experienced I would want nothing to do with the whole lot of them. In the beginning I would make comments, then I gradually decided to wait until Cheryl came along to explain to her what I thought (that is when I really began to appreciate Cheryl.. She would hang in there word for word with Victoria and reason with her, often saying what I was thinking). Then I just gave up. I ignored her. My time was too valuable to waste it on someone that angry at the world.
    I will admit I was very glad when she was banned. I wish her no ill will and hope life has gotten better for her.

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  85. Cheryl, I really appreciate how you refer to your girls as your daughters – that is a precious thing. My stepmom (whom I call mom, but my sister still calls by her first name) completely took us in as her own and it is something that makes me feel so very loved. She even wants my husband and me and our children to attend her HUGE family reunions because we’re her kids!

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  87. Kind of like when I had to introduce an elderly lady to the term thong at a funeral. We were chatting in the cemetery and she commented that she should had gotten grass in her thong.

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  88. Kim – As I said, Weekenderman & I could get along great, & we emailed each other sometimes. (I always told Lee when I had an email exchange with a man from the blog.) But that time, I was dismayed at his words to Franklin, & disappointed that he didn’t apologize to him.

    Yes, Victoria hinted at something very painful with an adopted child.

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  89. Remember when Weekenderman suddenly announced that he’d gotten married? I don’t think he had mentioned much (if anything) about a girlfriend, so it was quite a surprise.

    Hmmm…Didn’t someone else do that to us, Cheryl? 😉

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  91. Elvera’s father remarried after his wife died.
    All the children called her “momma”.
    They say “mother” when referring to their mother.
    When their father died, they cared for momma the same as they would mother.

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  93. Karen, no, I didn’t do that. I told the blog once we were officially engaged (though I think everyone whose e-mail address I had already knew). I was itching to tell y’all, since we were unofficially engaged for a couple of months before that . . . but we were waiting until I met the girls before we got engaged officially, and so it didn’t seem right to mention him online before the girls had met me.

    That was in the days when whoever was the moderator would pose an official “question of the day,” though, and so many, many times they were ones that were somehow connected with my man. One day we were asked if we or anyone we knew had done online dating, and i think I said something like I had done a bit, and had mixed experiences with it. And we were asked about our favorite artist; my husband is an artist (hobbyist, though he’d like to sell someday), so I think I said that my favorite artist was someone that none of you had ever heard of. We were asked our favorite month, and I said June and gave several reasons . . . but didn’t tell the most important one, that my man was making two trips to see me in June (he came about every three weeks, but that had been one trip in April, one in May, and then finally two in June). And then most people chose October, and we had set October as our wedding date but I hadn’t said that . . . but I finally said well, October had a lot going for it too. 🙂 There were several others, too, but those are the ones I remember.

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  98. I tried to post this earlier, but it didn’t have my name on it and it didn’t post. Karen, no, I didn’t do that. I told the blog once we were officially engaged (though I think everyone whose e-mail address I had already knew). I was itching to tell y’all, since we were unofficially engaged for a couple of months before that . . . but we were waiting until I met the girls before we got engaged officially, and so it didn’t seem right to mention him online before the girls had met me.

    That was in the days when whoever was the moderator would pose an official “question of the day,” though, and so many, many times they were ones that were somehow connected with my man. One day we were asked if we or anyone we knew had done online dating, and i think I said something like I had done a bit, and had mixed experiences with it. And we were asked about our favorite artist; my husband is an artist (hobbyist, though he’d like to sell someday), so I think I said that my favorite artist was someone that none of you had ever heard of. We were asked our favorite month, and I said June and gave several reasons . . . but didn’t tell the most important one, that my man was making two trips to see me in June (he came about every three weeks, but that had been one trip in April, one in May, and then finally two in June). And then most people chose October, and we had set October as our wedding date but I hadn’t said that . . . but I finally said well, October had a lot going for it too. 🙂 There were several others, too, but those are the ones I remember.

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  99. Our heat wave has broken, hooray! There’s actually a cool breeze coming in through the windows this afternoon (I don’t leave for church for another hour).

    When I went into the bedroom a little while ago I was surprised to see both dogs lying on the floor. They’re usually on the bed, of course.

    Then I noticed that Annie the cat had stretched herself out as l-o-n-g as she could make herself, horizontally, dead-center right across the middle of the bed. 🙂

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  105. Cheryl – Sorry for being confused on the details. My memory is pretty bad these days. Now that you mention it, I think I remember that you told us you were engaged, but not the actual wedding date. Is that right?

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  106. You guys were spared most of my online dating.

    I forgot to tell you about a dream I had Friday night that had a pretty funny conclusion. I saw a hawk I didn’t recognize, and I was trying to photograph it. Since I have done a lot of photography, I often dream I’m photographing, or trying to. In the dream, the camera never seem to cooperate in letting me take a photo. Anyway, a hawk had hopped onto a truck with a big tall piece of equipment in the back, and it waited till the truck went by a lamp in the parking lot and it simply stepped across onto the lamp. I tried to take its photo since it was a new species to me, and I wanted its photo and I also wanted to be able to identify it. It kept changing positions and moving from one place to another and I kept trying, unsuccessfully, to take its photo. I guess I must have woken up while that was going on, because suddenly like a flash I realized what kind of hawk I was looking at . . .

    “That’s a cartoon hawk, like one Dr. Seuss would draw!”

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  107. Karen, yeah, I thought it unwise to post the actual wedding date online, but several of you knew. Donna slipped up and posted it, and I came back and said, “I never said on here when I was getting married,” and she came back and covered nicely. But I think there might have been come comments on the date itself, since several people knew it. (And a couple of cards were sent around the country to get people’s signatures.)

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  109. I seldom recall a dream. In any case I can’t recall a dream that had a conclusion.

    Thanks Anon. Old Hickory is the one. I remember now.
    He was looking for a girl friend.
    I advised him to go over to Travis Avenue BC and join a SS, Bible study or other group. Lots of women in those groups. They usually outnumber men and some of them are likely available.
    You always go hunting in the forest where the game you are seeking reside.
    You fish in the stream that has the fish you want.
    I wouldn’t go to a bar or rock concert if I were looking for a woman with intention of keeping what I might find.

    Specifically. I mentioned in a post something about available women..
    Hickory shot back, “Where are they?”
    I answered, “Likely somewhere out looking for you.”

    I don’t know what happened to him. I hope he and a good woman got connected.

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  111. Chas – I remember one time Old Hickory complained that, at a party he was deejaying, none of the women asked him to dance. I wanted to take him by the shoulders, shake him, & say, “You should do the asking!” 🙂

    I guess it must be scary to be a shy guy trying to ask a girl to dance or go out. Glad I’m a woman & didn’t have to worry about that.

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  113. I was a shy guy. I missed out on a lot because of it.
    It bothers me to think of the girls who were sitting at home alone because some dumb guy was afraid to ask her to the prom.
    Just stupid.
    But it worked out well because I hate to think what life would be like now if I had gotten involved with one of those girls.
    It’s better this way, in retrospect, but it wasn’t then.
    Guys really need to overcome their shyness which has it’s roots in pride.
    Fear of rejection. I learned that rejection is not really that bad. We get over it.
    But I learned it late.

    Good evening Jo.

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  114. Okay. Here is the joke I mentioned earlier. Sorry if it offends the classical music fans. Just don’t get a “baroquened” up about it.

    When Mozart passed away he was buried in a churchyard. A couple days later, the town drunk was walking through the cemetery, and he happened to hear a strange noise coming from the area where Mozart was buried. Terrified, he ran and got the town priest.

    The priest leaned over the grave and heard some faint, unrecognizable music. Frightened himself, the priest ran and got the town magistrate.

    The magistrate bent his ear to the grave and heard the music and said, “yes, that’s Mozart’s 9th symphony being played backward.” He listened a while longer and said, “there’s the 8th symphony, and it’s backward, too. Most puzzling.” He kept listening, “there’s the 7th symphony, too, and the 6th and 5th symphonies, all backward!”

    Suddenly, the realization of what was happening dawned on the magistrate. He stood up and announced to the gathering crowd at the cemetery, “my fellow citizens, there’s nothing to worry about! It’s just Mozart…decomposing.”

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