I have a problem. I love writing and I love this blog. I started this blog ten months ago not knowing what I was going to do with it. I even stated in my first post that it may take me a while to find my voice. Since then I have written on a variety of topics: getting a good parking space, my disdain for sports, children, cold weather, drive thrus, and Russian literature, experiences raising my children, a minute-by-minute report of the blizzard that almost killed us, and the origin of rainbows.
I have shamelessly promoted myself on Facebook, Twitter, Viewshound, Triond, and many other sites to get more readers. I have subscribed to the sites of other bloggers so that I can expand my web presence by commenting on their blogs in the hope that they will come to visit mine and maybe bring some of their readers with them.
I have enjoyed looking at my stats page to see how many people have read something that I have written. I have reveled in the knowledge that I have readers in Slovenia, Croatia, Germany, South Africa, Latvia, Philippines, Iran and 53 other countries. I have uploaded some of my posts to other websites, won a few awards, and have even been paid for some of the things I wrote.
As great as this may sound, here is my problem: I am not enjoying it. When I first started this blog, I just wrote. I wrote my little stories and it was fun. Most of them were humorous. I love being the funny guy. However, it doesn’t always come easy. It takes a while to think these things up, and sometimes it takes even longer to figure out how to tell the story. Occasionally, I would write a serious piece. Three of my Top 10 posts (one about Kirsten, one about Christian, and one about parenting in general) have been about my relationship with my kids.
The serious pieces are much easier to write because I just have to tell the story. The funny ones are challenging, but definitely more fun to write. Many times I will have some mundane experience and decide that it would make a decent topic for a blog, but I spend several days figuring out how to tell the story in a clever way before it makes it to the computer.
I really enjoy the writing process and plan to continue to write, but I am going to make some changes. I have put so much time and effort into promotion of my writing, that it has become a chore I do not look forward to every morning. I subscribed to about 20 other bloggers with a large readership to get more exposure. However, reading all these blogs every day so I can leave comments was taking too much time. Plus, as my audience began to grow, I felt more pressure to produce something of high quality. Rather than sitting down and doing what I love, I fretted over quality and spent time trying to promote. In the meantime, my writing has slowed down and I find myself stalling to write another one.
It has been one month since my last post and I do not ever want that to happen again. I have been really busy this past month with camp and school registration, but my readers would know that if I had been writing and telling my story.
I want to pledge right now that I am putting my concentration back on my writing and not on promotion. I understand that this may cause my audience to shrink, but I started doing this because I love writing and that is what I intend to do. I am setting a goal of at least one post per week from this point forward.
Thank you to all my readers. I love getting your feedback and comments. I hope to keep seeing you.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The Pepsi Challenge to Get It Right
I have been doing something new to save money lately. It’s actually quite simple. I stopped going out to eat. I started seeing the difference in my wallet almost immediately. Before, when I received my paycheck, I would pay my bills for that pay period, throw some in the savings account, and then the rest slowly got chipped away buying gas and Big Macs. I began to realize how much of my money was being siphoned out by my frequent trips to restaurants and made the decision to stop. The only time my daughter and I have eaten out in the last six weeks has been when we are traveling.
On a recent trip out of town, we made a stop at Burger King for breakfast since we were on the road and did not have the option of running home to eat. I made my order of hash rounds, a breakfast sandwich, and small drink and was then thrown off guard by the worker asking me what kind of drink. The question confused me for a moment. I realize it was a very simple question, but it had been a few years since that question was a part of the ordering routine. Fast food restaurants just give you the cup now so you can go fill the drink for yourself. Rarely, do they fill it for you anymore.
After feeling foolish for being thrown by the question, I ordered a Pepsi. We got our tray and sat down to relax before getting back on the road. I started on my croissan'wich (I always get the sausage) and took a big gulp of my soda. I almost spit it back out. Something was wrong with it. I couldn’t place it, but it didn’t taste right. Kirsten always orders water, so I asked her to taste it. She said something was off as well. So, I took it back to the counter.
I told the girl something was wrong with my Pepsi, so she made another one. I tried it as soon as she handed it to me, but it still had the same problem. She yelled back to the manager, “Dan, there is something wrong with our Coke machine.” That’s when I realized the problem. I quickly stopped her so she would not get the manger since there was nothing wrong with the soda.
I explained to her the problem was that I had ordered a Pepsi and she gave me a Coke. She defended herself, saying, “We don’t have Pepsi here. We have Coke.” I told her that I understood and apologized for not looking to see what they had before I ordered, but advised her that in the future, to prevent confusion, if someone orders something that is not on the menu, she should tell them and not just substitute something else. She huffed and told me, “Pepsi and Coke are the same thing!” I tried to get her to understand that if they were the same thing, then I would not have been able to tell the difference when I took a drink, however, I think most of her brain power was being used on chewing her gum.
Whether a restaurant has Coke products or Pepsi products is determined by a number of factors, but they are not interchangeable. I, personally, am a Mt. Dew fiend and I know many people who are, but I don’t see people running around drinking Mello Yello, which is Coke’s counterpart, because they aren’t even remotely the same. I like Pepsi better than Coke and I highly prefer Mt. Dew to Mellow Yello. However, the Coca-Cola brand wins out on the Dr. Pepper/Mr. Pibb comparison. I like both, but Mr. Pibb is a little better. I will drink a Sprite rather than a 7-UP, but would prefer to not have to drink either.
When I order a Pepsi, I am not asking for whatever cola drink may be behind the counter. I am asking for a Pepsi. I have had many servers say, “We don’t have Pepsi. Is Coke okay?” I love that question. It means the worker has enough respect for the customer to give them the option. If the establishment doesn’t have that brand, just let me know and I will be happy to choose something else, but do not give me something I didn’t order.
Most of the time, I remember this when I go into a restaurant and I ask if they have Coke or Pepsi, but sometimes I forget. A good employee will make the distinction. Unfortunately, this does not just happen with sodas. A few years ago, I ordered a Frisco breakfast sandwich at Hardee’s. The Frisco is ham with egg and cheese on grilled sourdough. The grilled sourdough is what sets this meal apart from the others. Upon arriving at my table and opening the wrapper, I noticed that the bread did not have the usual golden brown color. It was white.
I took it back to the counter where the manager explained to me that the grill was broken, so they had been toasting the bread instead of grilling it. I was amazed that the manager could not understand why I wanted my money back. This was not what I had ordered. There is a difference. The menu even has a picture of the sandwich, which states ‘grilled sourdough.” A grilled cheese sandwich is much better then toasting some bread and then putting cheese on it. I understand things happen. The grill was broken and they were trying to get it fixed, but they knew that when I ordered my sandwich. How hard would it have been to mention, “Oh, just so you know, our grill is broken. We can't grill the sourdough right now. Would it be alright if it was toasted?” Then I could decide and there would be no problems, but don’t take my money and then switch my order to something you hope will be acceptable.
These substitutions are even harder to forgive in nicer restaurants where they should know the difference between ‘butter OR margarine’, ‘mayonnaise OR salad dressing (Miracle Whip)’, and ‘sweet tea OR unsweetened tea that you can put sugar in yourself.’ They are not the same.
I decided to stop eating out for purely financial reasons, but it does my blood pressure good to not have to put up with these preventable mishaps every time I walk into a restaurant. Plus, at home, I get what I want. My sandwiches get grilled when I want grilled, toasted when I want toasted, my eggs are always the way I like them, and no one is throwing a lemon slice in my tea that I didn’t ask for.
On a recent trip out of town, we made a stop at Burger King for breakfast since we were on the road and did not have the option of running home to eat. I made my order of hash rounds, a breakfast sandwich, and small drink and was then thrown off guard by the worker asking me what kind of drink. The question confused me for a moment. I realize it was a very simple question, but it had been a few years since that question was a part of the ordering routine. Fast food restaurants just give you the cup now so you can go fill the drink for yourself. Rarely, do they fill it for you anymore.
After feeling foolish for being thrown by the question, I ordered a Pepsi. We got our tray and sat down to relax before getting back on the road. I started on my croissan'wich (I always get the sausage) and took a big gulp of my soda. I almost spit it back out. Something was wrong with it. I couldn’t place it, but it didn’t taste right. Kirsten always orders water, so I asked her to taste it. She said something was off as well. So, I took it back to the counter.
I told the girl something was wrong with my Pepsi, so she made another one. I tried it as soon as she handed it to me, but it still had the same problem. She yelled back to the manager, “Dan, there is something wrong with our Coke machine.” That’s when I realized the problem. I quickly stopped her so she would not get the manger since there was nothing wrong with the soda.
I explained to her the problem was that I had ordered a Pepsi and she gave me a Coke. She defended herself, saying, “We don’t have Pepsi here. We have Coke.” I told her that I understood and apologized for not looking to see what they had before I ordered, but advised her that in the future, to prevent confusion, if someone orders something that is not on the menu, she should tell them and not just substitute something else. She huffed and told me, “Pepsi and Coke are the same thing!” I tried to get her to understand that if they were the same thing, then I would not have been able to tell the difference when I took a drink, however, I think most of her brain power was being used on chewing her gum.
 |
| Who drinks this? |
When I order a Pepsi, I am not asking for whatever cola drink may be behind the counter. I am asking for a Pepsi. I have had many servers say, “We don’t have Pepsi. Is Coke okay?” I love that question. It means the worker has enough respect for the customer to give them the option. If the establishment doesn’t have that brand, just let me know and I will be happy to choose something else, but do not give me something I didn’t order.
Most of the time, I remember this when I go into a restaurant and I ask if they have Coke or Pepsi, but sometimes I forget. A good employee will make the distinction. Unfortunately, this does not just happen with sodas. A few years ago, I ordered a Frisco breakfast sandwich at Hardee’s. The Frisco is ham with egg and cheese on grilled sourdough. The grilled sourdough is what sets this meal apart from the others. Upon arriving at my table and opening the wrapper, I noticed that the bread did not have the usual golden brown color. It was white.
 |
| Notice the beautiful color |
These substitutions are even harder to forgive in nicer restaurants where they should know the difference between ‘butter OR margarine’, ‘mayonnaise OR salad dressing (Miracle Whip)’, and ‘sweet tea OR unsweetened tea that you can put sugar in yourself.’ They are not the same.
I decided to stop eating out for purely financial reasons, but it does my blood pressure good to not have to put up with these preventable mishaps every time I walk into a restaurant. Plus, at home, I get what I want. My sandwiches get grilled when I want grilled, toasted when I want toasted, my eggs are always the way I like them, and no one is throwing a lemon slice in my tea that I didn’t ask for.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
It's All About Patience and Determination
I have had the most amazing week. A few days ago, I was thrilled with the events of the afternoon and then this morning, it happened again. Life does not get much better. Unfortunately, my daughter could not comprehend the gravity or importance of this monumental occurrence, so I have been trying to educate her.
Sunday afternoon, I was pulling into the Wal-Mart parking lot and was immediately reminded of why I need to plan my trips a little more intentionally. We have one of those super Wal-Marts that is bigger than many small towns, and on the weekends and some evenings, the crowds can be quite overwhelming. As I approached the lot and saw the hundreds of cars, I immediately started to reconsider how much we needed the items I came to get. The over-crowded aisles and the long check-out lines would make this a miserable experience, as usual. I need to remember to plan my Wal-Mart excursions for weekdays, but I decided to brave the masses since I was already there. However, first, I had to find a parking space.
Being the middle of summer, I do not want to walk across 300-degree asphalt any further than I have to, so I began the quest for a decent parking spot. I started my usual routine by pulling into the side entrance to drive by the front doors. This is more than just habit, there is a reason for this approach. Coming in from the side gives me a better view of the front spots. I can quickly scan the spots to my left while I dodge the endless stream of shopping carts exiting the store to my right. This foot traffic does pose a serious hazard, but gives me the slow-motion drive-by opportunity needed to find what I am looking for.
If I come in the front entrance and am driving directly toward the front of the store, there are too many parked cars in the way of potential empty spaces located in the acceptable parking zones. Plus, due to this vastly inferior viewing angle, sometimes a space occupied by a sub-compact or a motorcycle is mistaken for being empty, causing me to bypass various parking opportunities while pursuing what gave the illusion of being a better choice. Upon discovering that the spot is not empty and realizing I should have taken the one I passed two spaces back, it is usually too late to back up because of the Jeep behind me who now thinks that is her spot just because I passed it.
Finding the right spot is crucial in determining the initial mood for embarking on a shopping journey. This concept is held even more dear in other parts of the world. When I lived in Puerto Rico, I was amazed to discover that they had valet parking at Wal-Mart. Being what my ex-wife called ’cheap,’ I never took advantage of this service, but I definitely saw the attraction. These Wal-Marts would rope off all the best spots and then charge the customers to use them. If I wanted to park close, I had to pay for it, however, there was a much greater downside than just having to park further away. Being a major metropolitan area, the parking lot could not accommodate the numbers of cars trying to find a space. So, the people who did not take advantage of the valet ‘convenience’ may not be lucky enough to find a spot at all. However, my frugal nature and sense of adventure would step up to the challenge every time. Because of this, we started to participate in a creepy practice I called ‘shopper-stalking.’ I did not invent this practice and it took a while to understand the unwritten cultural rules for how it works, but the concept was pretty simple.
After cruising up and down all the aisles and determining that there are literally no spots available (not even on the furthest reaches of the lot), drivers start to watch for spots that are about to become vacant. One of the best ways to get a spot is to follow a shopper to their car. This is the creepy part. As an exiting shopper walks into one of the parking rows, if you are swift enough to be the first car behind her, you may be able to get her spot when she pulls out. There are some rules that must be obeyed. The pedestrian, upon noticing that she is being ‘stalked,’ walks on the right side of the lane. The ‘stalker’ stays to the right as well. This allows other cars to pass since the first car has already laid claim to her spot. However, that claim has not been made unless the ‘stalker’ has turned on the right turn signal. Once that signal comes on, it communicates to the other drivers that this spot will be yours, despite the fact that you do not yet know where it is located.
Since these parking lots cover vast spaces, it may take several minutes for the shopper to reach their car and I never did grow accustomed to creeping behind a walking person in my car. It felt so sinister. That is why I called it ‘shopper-stalking.’ Plus, if the person you are following passes between the cars to get at her vehicle in another row, you then have a legal right to race to the next row over and run her down. I only had to do this once, but I did not feel good about it. Her spot wasn’t that good anyway.
Now that I am back in Illinois, I do not have to ‘shopper-stalk’ any longer. My local store always has parking available, even on the busiest days, but I may have to walk for it. I am not doing that. I do not know why I cannot park at the back of the lot, but I just can’t do it. My daughter will get upset because I will spend an extra 10 minutes cruising around the lot to get a spot that is three spaces closer than the one I turned down earlier.
I am willing to trek all over town on foot, so this is not about laziness. Maybe it is male ego or the inability to reject the challenge. I don’t know, but I will not exit the vehicle until I have found what my friend Dawn calls ROCK STAR PARKING. Maybe it is an ego thing.
So, it is a crowded Sunday afternoon and I am approaching the store from the side. I carefully maneuver through the throng of exiting shopping carts, motorized wheelchairs, and leashed toddlers while scanning the spaces. I take the first row right after the doors to look for available spots. The first empty spot is about 15 spaces back. Not good enough. I cut through the row of parked cars to now approach the row right in front of the doors. It appears that there are no close spots in this row either so I will have to go another row over to try my luck. However, as I got close to the end of the row, I saw back up lights come on to my right. This person was pulling out of the very front space! The coveted front space! Only handicapped spaces are closer!
I immediately threw it in reverse to give them room, but someone started honking. There was a car right on my bumper. I couldn’t back up. I quickly reassessed the space between my car and the one wanting to pull out and determined that it may be possible to get out if the driver was very careful and pulled in their trunk. I put the car in park to wait and see how this played out. My daughter exclaimed, “Dad, you have to pull up. They don’t have room.” I let her know I was not going to miss this opportunity. How often does this happen? I will never get to park this close again without a wheelchair. She rolled her eyes, got out of the car, and ran inside the store.
Determined to hold my ground, the driver calculated the extra space he had to work with since he was in the front spot and wasn’t pinned in by cars on both sides. As cars were honking at me and an old woman started tapping on my window, he finally figured it out. I proudly pulled my vehicle into the spot and stepped out of the car with my head held high. The cursing and rude gestures coming at me from random vehicles were not going to bring me down. I knew what I had just accomplished. I don’t remember what happened inside the store or how long it took me to locate my daughter, but it doesn’t matter. The best part had already happened.
Today, six days later, I return to Wal-Mart and am reminding Kirsten of the fantastic experience we had last time we were there. As she pretended to ignore me, I noticed that same spot was just open and waiting for me. I pulled into it with no problem and got to relive the moment again.
Sunday afternoon, I was pulling into the Wal-Mart parking lot and was immediately reminded of why I need to plan my trips a little more intentionally. We have one of those super Wal-Marts that is bigger than many small towns, and on the weekends and some evenings, the crowds can be quite overwhelming. As I approached the lot and saw the hundreds of cars, I immediately started to reconsider how much we needed the items I came to get. The over-crowded aisles and the long check-out lines would make this a miserable experience, as usual. I need to remember to plan my Wal-Mart excursions for weekdays, but I decided to brave the masses since I was already there. However, first, I had to find a parking space.
Being the middle of summer, I do not want to walk across 300-degree asphalt any further than I have to, so I began the quest for a decent parking spot. I started my usual routine by pulling into the side entrance to drive by the front doors. This is more than just habit, there is a reason for this approach. Coming in from the side gives me a better view of the front spots. I can quickly scan the spots to my left while I dodge the endless stream of shopping carts exiting the store to my right. This foot traffic does pose a serious hazard, but gives me the slow-motion drive-by opportunity needed to find what I am looking for.
If I come in the front entrance and am driving directly toward the front of the store, there are too many parked cars in the way of potential empty spaces located in the acceptable parking zones. Plus, due to this vastly inferior viewing angle, sometimes a space occupied by a sub-compact or a motorcycle is mistaken for being empty, causing me to bypass various parking opportunities while pursuing what gave the illusion of being a better choice. Upon discovering that the spot is not empty and realizing I should have taken the one I passed two spaces back, it is usually too late to back up because of the Jeep behind me who now thinks that is her spot just because I passed it.
Finding the right spot is crucial in determining the initial mood for embarking on a shopping journey. This concept is held even more dear in other parts of the world. When I lived in Puerto Rico, I was amazed to discover that they had valet parking at Wal-Mart. Being what my ex-wife called ’cheap,’ I never took advantage of this service, but I definitely saw the attraction. These Wal-Marts would rope off all the best spots and then charge the customers to use them. If I wanted to park close, I had to pay for it, however, there was a much greater downside than just having to park further away. Being a major metropolitan area, the parking lot could not accommodate the numbers of cars trying to find a space. So, the people who did not take advantage of the valet ‘convenience’ may not be lucky enough to find a spot at all. However, my frugal nature and sense of adventure would step up to the challenge every time. Because of this, we started to participate in a creepy practice I called ‘shopper-stalking.’ I did not invent this practice and it took a while to understand the unwritten cultural rules for how it works, but the concept was pretty simple.
After cruising up and down all the aisles and determining that there are literally no spots available (not even on the furthest reaches of the lot), drivers start to watch for spots that are about to become vacant. One of the best ways to get a spot is to follow a shopper to their car. This is the creepy part. As an exiting shopper walks into one of the parking rows, if you are swift enough to be the first car behind her, you may be able to get her spot when she pulls out. There are some rules that must be obeyed. The pedestrian, upon noticing that she is being ‘stalked,’ walks on the right side of the lane. The ‘stalker’ stays to the right as well. This allows other cars to pass since the first car has already laid claim to her spot. However, that claim has not been made unless the ‘stalker’ has turned on the right turn signal. Once that signal comes on, it communicates to the other drivers that this spot will be yours, despite the fact that you do not yet know where it is located.
Since these parking lots cover vast spaces, it may take several minutes for the shopper to reach their car and I never did grow accustomed to creeping behind a walking person in my car. It felt so sinister. That is why I called it ‘shopper-stalking.’ Plus, if the person you are following passes between the cars to get at her vehicle in another row, you then have a legal right to race to the next row over and run her down. I only had to do this once, but I did not feel good about it. Her spot wasn’t that good anyway.
Now that I am back in Illinois, I do not have to ‘shopper-stalk’ any longer. My local store always has parking available, even on the busiest days, but I may have to walk for it. I am not doing that. I do not know why I cannot park at the back of the lot, but I just can’t do it. My daughter will get upset because I will spend an extra 10 minutes cruising around the lot to get a spot that is three spaces closer than the one I turned down earlier.
I am willing to trek all over town on foot, so this is not about laziness. Maybe it is male ego or the inability to reject the challenge. I don’t know, but I will not exit the vehicle until I have found what my friend Dawn calls ROCK STAR PARKING. Maybe it is an ego thing.
So, it is a crowded Sunday afternoon and I am approaching the store from the side. I carefully maneuver through the throng of exiting shopping carts, motorized wheelchairs, and leashed toddlers while scanning the spaces. I take the first row right after the doors to look for available spots. The first empty spot is about 15 spaces back. Not good enough. I cut through the row of parked cars to now approach the row right in front of the doors. It appears that there are no close spots in this row either so I will have to go another row over to try my luck. However, as I got close to the end of the row, I saw back up lights come on to my right. This person was pulling out of the very front space! The coveted front space! Only handicapped spaces are closer!
I immediately threw it in reverse to give them room, but someone started honking. There was a car right on my bumper. I couldn’t back up. I quickly reassessed the space between my car and the one wanting to pull out and determined that it may be possible to get out if the driver was very careful and pulled in their trunk. I put the car in park to wait and see how this played out. My daughter exclaimed, “Dad, you have to pull up. They don’t have room.” I let her know I was not going to miss this opportunity. How often does this happen? I will never get to park this close again without a wheelchair. She rolled her eyes, got out of the car, and ran inside the store.
Determined to hold my ground, the driver calculated the extra space he had to work with since he was in the front spot and wasn’t pinned in by cars on both sides. As cars were honking at me and an old woman started tapping on my window, he finally figured it out. I proudly pulled my vehicle into the spot and stepped out of the car with my head held high. The cursing and rude gestures coming at me from random vehicles were not going to bring me down. I knew what I had just accomplished. I don’t remember what happened inside the store or how long it took me to locate my daughter, but it doesn’t matter. The best part had already happened.
Today, six days later, I return to Wal-Mart and am reminding Kirsten of the fantastic experience we had last time we were there. As she pretended to ignore me, I noticed that same spot was just open and waiting for me. I pulled into it with no problem and got to relive the moment again.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Teething Toddler Tantrums - Kids Are So Immature
Summer is slowly ticking away and I look forward to school starting in the fall. In August, I will be starting my Master’s Degree in Teaching. I have no clue what to expect, but am excited to get started. I will also be substitute teaching in the public school system. However, I have some concerns.
When I am finished with my schooling, I will be a high school teacher. I relate better with teenagers than younger kids. I have done youth ministry for many years and almost always work with the high school youth. I occasionally venture into the junior high crowd, but not often. I have a real problem working with younger children.
I was reminded of this two weeks ago when our church had VBS. Due to my work schedule, I could not be there the entire week. I was only available for two days. Because of this, I could not get plugged in early and pick the job I would like to do, which is usually to take pictures of the event. I told Mandy, the coordinator, what nights I would be there and she could stick me wherever help was needed.
On the first night that I was available, Mandy sent me to work with the 2 and 3 year olds. I was not excited about this assignment, but it was where they were short-handed for the night. Luckily, I was just there to help and not actually lead anything. Give me a group of small children and I can keep them entertained for about 30 minutes, but nothing constructive will happen. I have no idea how people can teach a group of small children. It just does not work for me. We spent most of the evening coloring, cleaning up messes, and holding the ones that started crying.
Kids really seem to like me, but I have no idea why. Most of them I am simply tolerating until my time is up. Every now and then, there will be certain children I enjoy, but generally, I am not a fan. I even feel this way about babies.
I know most people just go ga-ga over a baby, but not me. I never have. Every time one of my friends has a baby, eventually they ask, “Would you like to hold him?” I politely decline, and they say, “It’s alright. Here,” and then hand him to me anyway. I know it’s alright. That is why they asked me to begin with. They had already approved the action before they asked. However, since I said no, I had not. Somehow, I always end up with the baby anyway. So, I bounce and sway and look at it until it starts to cry and then hand it back, grateful that we got that part out of the way.
I also do not believe that babies are very cute. They usually have splotchy skin, mis-shapen heads, and smell funny. They cry and sleep and poop. I do not see the fascination. As they get a little older and I can play with them, they begin to get a little more interesting, but even then, it has it’s limits. It is empowering to be thought of as the coolest person on earth because I can bounce a ball against the wall and catch it again. I feel so superior when I successfully roll a ball to a toddler but he cannot get it back to me with the same dexterity. However, sooner or later, he will cry for no apparent reason or fill his pants with putrid sludge. Since, I am very careful to never be left alone with small children, when these problems arise, I can easily escape responsibility for fixing it.
Dealing with older kids is a much different story. I have some sort of connection with teenagers I have never been able to understand. I like kids that age and they seem to like me. When I had my own business, it became a hangout for many of the local teens. When I was the pastor at Bakerville, many of the teens in the church would drop by my house, just to ‘hang out.’ I had no problem with that, I just couldn't understand the draw.
My favorite part about teenagers is the fact that you can talk to them. By that, I mean have real conversations. They have been in the world long enough and their intellect has developed to the point that they can make meaningful observations about the world around them. They have opinions and can usually explain them. However, they still need guidance, but do not just want someone to simply tell them what they need to do or think. They can appreciate the discussion and reasons behind why something is done a certain way. I remember being a teenager and thinking I had the world figured out, but I was still seeking answers and there were not a lot of adults who would really talk to me.
At my shop about two years ago, one of my co-workers was commenting to a customer about the number of teens that had started coming to the shop since I started working there. The customer asked me why teens seem to gravitate to me and I told him I had no idea. I really didn’t. I had asked myself that question many times. However, one of those teens was sitting in the room and she blurted out, “I know why.” My ears immediately perked up. I wanted to know this as well. She told us, “It’s simple. You talk to us.” I pointed out that I can't be the only adult that talks to her. She said that other adults simply acknowledge her and a few might try to make small talk, but none of them really seem interested in what she has to say. She said, “You actually talk to me and then listen to me. We have real conversations about important stuff.”
I had to think about this for a long time. The concept is so simple. I screw up a lot of things in my life, but this is one that just comes naturally to me. I pay attention to teenagers because I like them. I enjoy talking to them. I like going to video game parties and just acting goofy. Maybe it is because I have a teenage mindset. I don’t know, but I enjoy their company and being part of helping to shape their minds as they are growing into adulthood. As a teenager, I sought out those adults who would truly listen and I had the privilege of growing up to be one of those adults.
I am really looking forward to completing my degree and then getting to be in the classroom every day sharing in their lives and helping to prepare them for the world outside. The high school years are a very important time in a person’s life. It is during the teenage years that they are forming what type of person they are going to be. Loyalty to friends, work ethic, outlook on life and various other qualities are formed during this period. I revel in getting to be a part of it.
During the education process I will have to do assigned field experience. I do not get to pick the age group for these assignments and am quite nervous about having to interact with small children for a grade, but I will push through. In the end, I will get to do what I love the most: teach and work with teens. Plus, I will have summers off.
When I am finished with my schooling, I will be a high school teacher. I relate better with teenagers than younger kids. I have done youth ministry for many years and almost always work with the high school youth. I occasionally venture into the junior high crowd, but not often. I have a real problem working with younger children.
I was reminded of this two weeks ago when our church had VBS. Due to my work schedule, I could not be there the entire week. I was only available for two days. Because of this, I could not get plugged in early and pick the job I would like to do, which is usually to take pictures of the event. I told Mandy, the coordinator, what nights I would be there and she could stick me wherever help was needed.
On the first night that I was available, Mandy sent me to work with the 2 and 3 year olds. I was not excited about this assignment, but it was where they were short-handed for the night. Luckily, I was just there to help and not actually lead anything. Give me a group of small children and I can keep them entertained for about 30 minutes, but nothing constructive will happen. I have no idea how people can teach a group of small children. It just does not work for me. We spent most of the evening coloring, cleaning up messes, and holding the ones that started crying.
Kids really seem to like me, but I have no idea why. Most of them I am simply tolerating until my time is up. Every now and then, there will be certain children I enjoy, but generally, I am not a fan. I even feel this way about babies.
I know most people just go ga-ga over a baby, but not me. I never have. Every time one of my friends has a baby, eventually they ask, “Would you like to hold him?” I politely decline, and they say, “It’s alright. Here,” and then hand him to me anyway. I know it’s alright. That is why they asked me to begin with. They had already approved the action before they asked. However, since I said no, I had not. Somehow, I always end up with the baby anyway. So, I bounce and sway and look at it until it starts to cry and then hand it back, grateful that we got that part out of the way.
 |
| It's OK. Barney scares me too. |
Dealing with older kids is a much different story. I have some sort of connection with teenagers I have never been able to understand. I like kids that age and they seem to like me. When I had my own business, it became a hangout for many of the local teens. When I was the pastor at Bakerville, many of the teens in the church would drop by my house, just to ‘hang out.’ I had no problem with that, I just couldn't understand the draw.
My favorite part about teenagers is the fact that you can talk to them. By that, I mean have real conversations. They have been in the world long enough and their intellect has developed to the point that they can make meaningful observations about the world around them. They have opinions and can usually explain them. However, they still need guidance, but do not just want someone to simply tell them what they need to do or think. They can appreciate the discussion and reasons behind why something is done a certain way. I remember being a teenager and thinking I had the world figured out, but I was still seeking answers and there were not a lot of adults who would really talk to me.
At my shop about two years ago, one of my co-workers was commenting to a customer about the number of teens that had started coming to the shop since I started working there. The customer asked me why teens seem to gravitate to me and I told him I had no idea. I really didn’t. I had asked myself that question many times. However, one of those teens was sitting in the room and she blurted out, “I know why.” My ears immediately perked up. I wanted to know this as well. She told us, “It’s simple. You talk to us.” I pointed out that I can't be the only adult that talks to her. She said that other adults simply acknowledge her and a few might try to make small talk, but none of them really seem interested in what she has to say. She said, “You actually talk to me and then listen to me. We have real conversations about important stuff.”
I had to think about this for a long time. The concept is so simple. I screw up a lot of things in my life, but this is one that just comes naturally to me. I pay attention to teenagers because I like them. I enjoy talking to them. I like going to video game parties and just acting goofy. Maybe it is because I have a teenage mindset. I don’t know, but I enjoy their company and being part of helping to shape their minds as they are growing into adulthood. As a teenager, I sought out those adults who would truly listen and I had the privilege of growing up to be one of those adults.
I am really looking forward to completing my degree and then getting to be in the classroom every day sharing in their lives and helping to prepare them for the world outside. The high school years are a very important time in a person’s life. It is during the teenage years that they are forming what type of person they are going to be. Loyalty to friends, work ethic, outlook on life and various other qualities are formed during this period. I revel in getting to be a part of it.
During the education process I will have to do assigned field experience. I do not get to pick the age group for these assignments and am quite nervous about having to interact with small children for a grade, but I will push through. In the end, I will get to do what I love the most: teach and work with teens. Plus, I will have summers off.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
We're Playing Tag
I just finished my preparation for my next blog, but it will be delayed for a couple of days. I received a Facebook message last night from Jessica Patch stating that I had been tagged (definition: to monitor the whereabouts of (an offender) by means of an electronic device) in her blog. She had been tagged by someone else who had been tagged by a person before them.
This tagging consists of several questions to answer about yourself or your writing and to then tag other people who blog. Participating in this exercise serves several purposes:
TAG QUESTIONS:
Do you think you're hot?
We just moved into a new house and soon discovered that our A/C was not working. I was hot for a few weeks, but we fixed it. However, I been told I look mighty fine in a suit.
Upload a picture of the wallpaper you are using.
I can't help it. I like to laugh and find the humor in everything. Over time, I have learned, it is always there, but sometimes you have to look for it.
When was the last time you ate chicken?
Yesterday, for Father's Day, my daughter and I shared a buffalo chicken pizza. It was very good; I suggest you try it.
What were you thinking while doing this?
Why do we have to listen to a 45 second instructional to leave someone a voice mail? BEEP, TALK, we get it! Condescending phone companies.
What song or songs have you listened to recently?
I don't listen to music regularly, but recently a coworker and I were reminiscing about the popular Christian groups when we were in high school. This was when Christian music was just starting to break into the main stream. We found ourselves singing "Holy Rollin'" by Bryan Duncan.
In 1987 or '88, Bryan Duncan was the headliner for the Illinois Christian Teen Convention. I pretended I was Bobby Duncan (Bryan's son) to meet girls. It worked. I am still in contact with some of them today. A few are still asking to meet "my dad."
Do you have any nicknames? If so what are they?
I have had nicknames over the years, but don't really have one now. I was named the "Lone Farter" in the 5th grade after embarrassing myself in front of the class while writing on the chalkboard. You can figure it out. Someone started calling me Bert in high school and that one stuck for several years. Occasionally, when I run into an old high school friend, I will hear that again. Most recently, my name was NEEDLES. This was my club name while I was VP in a motorcycle club. Since I was a professional piercer and owned a tattoo shop, the name made sense. Today, I generally walk away from anyone who tries to speak with me, so who knows what they are calling me now.
Tag 5 bloggers
This part has been really difficult for me. I only started blogging last October and haven't really done a lot of blog reading. Just in this last month have I started taking this a little more seriously and looking for tools and other bloggers. Therefore, I have very few that I read regularly. Here is what I have so far.
Jessica R. Patch
She used to call her blog, What are you Doing Here? I don't know what happened to that. Now it is just her name, but I guess I can live with it. Jess is a very talented writer. She writes entire books, which I hope to try to tackle someday. In her blog, she interviews Christian authors and writes wonderfully inspiring devotionals. She blogs three times a week so there is always something new when I drop by. As kids, Jess and I went to the same school and church. I had a big crush on her sister for a few years, but I think it was fairly obvious, so I don't think I am revealing anything they didn't already know.
Pantopragmatic Posturing
This is the blog of Maurice Smith. You never know what you are going to get at this blog. It is sometimes funny, sometimes serious, but always thought-provoking. Maurice knows what he thinks and believes and will educate you on why he sees life the way he does. Maurice was my youth minister many, many years ago and always challenged us to think more deeply. He is still doing it.
In Shane's Brain
Several years ago, Shane and I were salesmen at a cell phone company. He later joined my church and has since moved to New Orleans. Soon after, he started blogging. Shane's posts are generally about something that was on his mind that day. Sometimes an inspiring thought, sometimes it was something that irritated him, and other days it is just a general observation.
God's Comic
This is the blog of comedian Brad Stine. Always funny, but usually tackling serious issues. Just like in his stand-up routine, Brad uses humor to illustrate his viewpoint. Recent posts have covered low-flow toilets, male fashion, nude protesting, telemarketers, and the Green movement. Definitely worth a read.
I don't know who else to tag. I really need to start reading more blogs. If we do this again, I promise I will have five. Get off my back. Jessica, thank you for the promotion and the opportunity to participate in this exercise. I really enjoyed it and I still want to spend a day with you and 'Jane' getting into trouble.
This tagging consists of several questions to answer about yourself or your writing and to then tag other people who blog. Participating in this exercise serves several purposes:
- Apparently, this is supposed to be fun.
- It could be seen as a writing challenge. Since I do not get to pick the topic, I am at the mercy of the questions posed to me.
- It is dangerous. This diminishes my usual method of taking several days to self-edit before I post. Look out!
- Blog-promotion. I do appreciate being tagged by Jessica. Jessica has many more readers than I do and her tagging me will bring traffic to my blog. I have already seen a spike in the numbers for today. Plus, I get to be promoted without me doing it. (i.e. endless Facebook posts that read, "CHECK OUT MY BLOG!!!")
- I get to point out the blogs of other people that I enjoy.
TAG QUESTIONS:
Do you think you're hot?
We just moved into a new house and soon discovered that our A/C was not working. I was hot for a few weeks, but we fixed it. However, I been told I look mighty fine in a suit.
Upload a picture of the wallpaper you are using.
When was the last time you ate chicken?
Yesterday, for Father's Day, my daughter and I shared a buffalo chicken pizza. It was very good; I suggest you try it.
What were you thinking while doing this?
Why do we have to listen to a 45 second instructional to leave someone a voice mail? BEEP, TALK, we get it! Condescending phone companies.
What song or songs have you listened to recently?
I don't listen to music regularly, but recently a coworker and I were reminiscing about the popular Christian groups when we were in high school. This was when Christian music was just starting to break into the main stream. We found ourselves singing "Holy Rollin'" by Bryan Duncan.
In 1987 or '88, Bryan Duncan was the headliner for the Illinois Christian Teen Convention. I pretended I was Bobby Duncan (Bryan's son) to meet girls. It worked. I am still in contact with some of them today. A few are still asking to meet "my dad."
Do you have any nicknames? If so what are they?
I have had nicknames over the years, but don't really have one now. I was named the "Lone Farter" in the 5th grade after embarrassing myself in front of the class while writing on the chalkboard. You can figure it out. Someone started calling me Bert in high school and that one stuck for several years. Occasionally, when I run into an old high school friend, I will hear that again. Most recently, my name was NEEDLES. This was my club name while I was VP in a motorcycle club. Since I was a professional piercer and owned a tattoo shop, the name made sense. Today, I generally walk away from anyone who tries to speak with me, so who knows what they are calling me now.
Tag 5 bloggers
This part has been really difficult for me. I only started blogging last October and haven't really done a lot of blog reading. Just in this last month have I started taking this a little more seriously and looking for tools and other bloggers. Therefore, I have very few that I read regularly. Here is what I have so far.
Jessica R. Patch
She used to call her blog, What are you Doing Here? I don't know what happened to that. Now it is just her name, but I guess I can live with it. Jess is a very talented writer. She writes entire books, which I hope to try to tackle someday. In her blog, she interviews Christian authors and writes wonderfully inspiring devotionals. She blogs three times a week so there is always something new when I drop by. As kids, Jess and I went to the same school and church. I had a big crush on her sister for a few years, but I think it was fairly obvious, so I don't think I am revealing anything they didn't already know.
Pantopragmatic Posturing
This is the blog of Maurice Smith. You never know what you are going to get at this blog. It is sometimes funny, sometimes serious, but always thought-provoking. Maurice knows what he thinks and believes and will educate you on why he sees life the way he does. Maurice was my youth minister many, many years ago and always challenged us to think more deeply. He is still doing it.
In Shane's Brain
Several years ago, Shane and I were salesmen at a cell phone company. He later joined my church and has since moved to New Orleans. Soon after, he started blogging. Shane's posts are generally about something that was on his mind that day. Sometimes an inspiring thought, sometimes it was something that irritated him, and other days it is just a general observation.
God's Comic
This is the blog of comedian Brad Stine. Always funny, but usually tackling serious issues. Just like in his stand-up routine, Brad uses humor to illustrate his viewpoint. Recent posts have covered low-flow toilets, male fashion, nude protesting, telemarketers, and the Green movement. Definitely worth a read.
I don't know who else to tag. I really need to start reading more blogs. If we do this again, I promise I will have five. Get off my back. Jessica, thank you for the promotion and the opportunity to participate in this exercise. I really enjoyed it and I still want to spend a day with you and 'Jane' getting into trouble.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Would You Like Fries With That?
I shocked my daughter on Tuesday by doing something I never do. We were headed home from Wal-Mart and Kirsten decided she wanted a sweet tea from McDonald’s. She had a dollar and did not want the tea I had brewed at home. I pulled into the parking lot so she could run inside and she asked if we could go through the drive thru. It was about 95 degrees and she didn't want to get out of the car.
I still don't know why, but I agreed. This was the shocking part. I don't do drive thrus. I hate going through the drive thru. Joe Pesci summed it up best in the movie ’Lethal Weapon 2’ as the character Leo Getz. He had some very strong feelings about drive thrus that I'm not going to repeat here. He uses rather colorful language, but captures the essence of how I feel about them. If you've seen the movie, you know what I am talking about. If you haven't, I recommend it. It stars Danny Glover and Mel Gibson before his drunk-driving, Jew-bashing days.
I have worked in fast food and know from first-hand experience that the drive thru is different even from the other side of the window. There is an extreme pressure to get those orders out within a certain amount of time. At our local McDonald’s, you can see the timer that is over the drive thru window from the counter. One website I checked stated that their McDonald’s has 2 minutes and 30 seconds to get a customer their order. This timer starts the moment they pull up to the menu.
The worker is not allowed any leniency for the amount of time it took the person to order, the parent who is still trying to find out from their kids what they want, or the customer that is digging around in his car for loose change after he pulls up to the window. They have two and a half minutes starting from the time they first pull up to the menu and ending when they pull away from the window with a full order. If they don't clear the window fast enough, the stats for the shift are unacceptable and the employees get into trouble. I've heard of many ways to cheat this timer. Having a person pull forward has several advantages. It allows the customer behind you to be served while waiting for your order, but also stops the timer for your order. A Burger King in New York asks its customers to pull forward about ten feet after approaching the window and then back up again. This stops the timer and gives them better times.
It gets a little ridiculous at times for these employees who are trying so hard to meet their times that the satisfaction of the customer is often overlooked. I'm not blaming the employees. If you happen to work in a fast-food restaurant, please don't send me angry emails, I recognize that this is not your fault. I blame the corporate system that instituted these practices. On numerous occasions, I've stood in line at Taco Bell, waiting for my nacho cheese chalupa, and watched eight cars get their orders before me. I have no idea why the drive thru is given such a priority, but they must have their reasons. However, ninety percent of the time, if my order is wrong, it has been when I've gone through the drive thru.
I understand that people are human and mistakes will happen, but I am convinced that there is some mandate of the universe that states when Brett Minor is in a drive thru, Murphy’s Law must be observed.
Some errors can be explained with simple logic. While waiting inside the restaurant, if you order 4 sandwiches with fries and drinks and one of the fries is missing when they slide you the tray, it can be seen immediately. Before walking away, simply state that you are missing a fry. They quickly apologize and throw the extra fry on the tray. Problem solved and forgotten about before you make it to the table. At the drive thru, however, the food is given to you in a bag. You won't notice unless you purposefully check, and even then it's not always that easy to dig around in there for accuracy. However, this must be done BEFORE pulling away from the window. Even if you pull away but catch it before exiting the parking lot, you must now go inside to have it corrected, which defeats the entire purpose of using the drive thru to begin with. On the other hand, not checking leads to not knowing about it until you are at least a few blocks away or even already at home. What are the chances that you are going back for that missing cheeseburger?
It's even more difficult to check for accuracy on special orders. When I worked drive thru at Hardee’s, it was not uncommon to get orders for unsalted fries, a plain cheeseburger, raw cookies, extra or no ice, or mayo instead of mustard. Checking the bag for accuracy on these types of orders while sitting in the drive thru is nearly impossible. If there are eight burgers, but one is supposed to have extra pickles, you have to unwrap each one to find it. It's not worth the hassle, just go inside.
Throw on top of these issues the fact that the employees are very pressed for time and the accuracy rates are naturally going to fall. It can't be helped. I once received a snack wrap and salad when I had ordered a Quarter Pounder and fries. I'd been given someone else’s order. Since I was in a hurry, I did not get into the bag until I reached my destination. This is why you must check your order before leaving.
Despite all the procedures in place to assure a fast drive thru experience, it never seems to work that way for me. One of the advantages to going inside is when a particular order is finished they can hand it to whatever customer ordered it. However, the cars in the drive thru are approaching the window in order. The occasional person is pulled forward to serve the one behind them, but in general you are the mercy of the orders that were placed before yours. This was the situation I found myself in on Tuesday.
All we had ordered was a sweet tea, but there were five cars ahead of us, including the one who went screeching across the parking lot and whipped in front of our vehicle. I ordered her tea and then continued to sit in front of the menu without moving for another two minutes. Knowing that it only takes about thirty seconds to pour the tea and put a lid on it, the window appeared to be a mile away. We soon began to have an additional problem. My van doesn't have air conditioning, which is not normally a problem when we are moving, but sitting in a drive thru on a 95 degree day without a/c is not my idea of fun. Add to that the fact that my van begins to overheat when it idles and my patience was wearing thin very quickly.
The menu to window time was not going to be anywhere near two and a half minutes, plus it took over five minutes to even get to the menu. I reminded Kirsten that the reason we were in this predicament was because she thought it was too hot to get out of the van. After several more minutes, we made it to the first window. Our local McDonald’s has two windows. The first window is to pay and the second is to receive your food. I gave the girl in the window her dollar and continued to sit there for another 3 minutes, not moving from the window. I was tempted to walk inside and just ask for my tea since it had probably already been poured and was sitting on a counter. Unfortunately, I was wedged between two cars and was too close to the building to open my door. The exhaust from the other vehicles was making me light headed and I was not sure if I could hold myself upright if I did get out.
I laid my head back on the seat rest and tried to concentrate my thoughts away from the sweat dripping into my eyes. I drifted off for a moment and was startled awake by a honking horn. I was excited to see that the car in front of us had moved up another car length, but after wiping my forehead on my quickly dampening shirt, I realized it was only a mirage. Kirsten had grown eerily quiet and I tried to reassure her that we were not going to die here, but my tongue had begun to swell and the lack of moisture in my mouth made it impossible to speak. Certain I was entering the early stages of heat stroke, I collapsed forward onto my steering wheel. The surface temperature quickly causing second degree burns jolted me back to reality.
I heard a slight tapping to my left and turned to see the most beautiful sight. An angel was looking out the drive thru window with a sweet tea in her hand. She said, “I figured I could just grab this for you so you wouldn’t have to wait for the next window.” I began to cry and I kissed her. She had saved us. I thanked her again and we drove off singing praises to this merciful woman. It warmed my heart to know that there are still decent people in the world, but my loathing for drive thru lanes is stronger than ever.
I still don't know why, but I agreed. This was the shocking part. I don't do drive thrus. I hate going through the drive thru. Joe Pesci summed it up best in the movie ’Lethal Weapon 2’ as the character Leo Getz. He had some very strong feelings about drive thrus that I'm not going to repeat here. He uses rather colorful language, but captures the essence of how I feel about them. If you've seen the movie, you know what I am talking about. If you haven't, I recommend it. It stars Danny Glover and Mel Gibson before his drunk-driving, Jew-bashing days.
I have worked in fast food and know from first-hand experience that the drive thru is different even from the other side of the window. There is an extreme pressure to get those orders out within a certain amount of time. At our local McDonald’s, you can see the timer that is over the drive thru window from the counter. One website I checked stated that their McDonald’s has 2 minutes and 30 seconds to get a customer their order. This timer starts the moment they pull up to the menu.
The worker is not allowed any leniency for the amount of time it took the person to order, the parent who is still trying to find out from their kids what they want, or the customer that is digging around in his car for loose change after he pulls up to the window. They have two and a half minutes starting from the time they first pull up to the menu and ending when they pull away from the window with a full order. If they don't clear the window fast enough, the stats for the shift are unacceptable and the employees get into trouble. I've heard of many ways to cheat this timer. Having a person pull forward has several advantages. It allows the customer behind you to be served while waiting for your order, but also stops the timer for your order. A Burger King in New York asks its customers to pull forward about ten feet after approaching the window and then back up again. This stops the timer and gives them better times.
It gets a little ridiculous at times for these employees who are trying so hard to meet their times that the satisfaction of the customer is often overlooked. I'm not blaming the employees. If you happen to work in a fast-food restaurant, please don't send me angry emails, I recognize that this is not your fault. I blame the corporate system that instituted these practices. On numerous occasions, I've stood in line at Taco Bell, waiting for my nacho cheese chalupa, and watched eight cars get their orders before me. I have no idea why the drive thru is given such a priority, but they must have their reasons. However, ninety percent of the time, if my order is wrong, it has been when I've gone through the drive thru.
 |
| I often get stuck behind these people. |
Some errors can be explained with simple logic. While waiting inside the restaurant, if you order 4 sandwiches with fries and drinks and one of the fries is missing when they slide you the tray, it can be seen immediately. Before walking away, simply state that you are missing a fry. They quickly apologize and throw the extra fry on the tray. Problem solved and forgotten about before you make it to the table. At the drive thru, however, the food is given to you in a bag. You won't notice unless you purposefully check, and even then it's not always that easy to dig around in there for accuracy. However, this must be done BEFORE pulling away from the window. Even if you pull away but catch it before exiting the parking lot, you must now go inside to have it corrected, which defeats the entire purpose of using the drive thru to begin with. On the other hand, not checking leads to not knowing about it until you are at least a few blocks away or even already at home. What are the chances that you are going back for that missing cheeseburger?
It's even more difficult to check for accuracy on special orders. When I worked drive thru at Hardee’s, it was not uncommon to get orders for unsalted fries, a plain cheeseburger, raw cookies, extra or no ice, or mayo instead of mustard. Checking the bag for accuracy on these types of orders while sitting in the drive thru is nearly impossible. If there are eight burgers, but one is supposed to have extra pickles, you have to unwrap each one to find it. It's not worth the hassle, just go inside.
Throw on top of these issues the fact that the employees are very pressed for time and the accuracy rates are naturally going to fall. It can't be helped. I once received a snack wrap and salad when I had ordered a Quarter Pounder and fries. I'd been given someone else’s order. Since I was in a hurry, I did not get into the bag until I reached my destination. This is why you must check your order before leaving.
Despite all the procedures in place to assure a fast drive thru experience, it never seems to work that way for me. One of the advantages to going inside is when a particular order is finished they can hand it to whatever customer ordered it. However, the cars in the drive thru are approaching the window in order. The occasional person is pulled forward to serve the one behind them, but in general you are the mercy of the orders that were placed before yours. This was the situation I found myself in on Tuesday.
All we had ordered was a sweet tea, but there were five cars ahead of us, including the one who went screeching across the parking lot and whipped in front of our vehicle. I ordered her tea and then continued to sit in front of the menu without moving for another two minutes. Knowing that it only takes about thirty seconds to pour the tea and put a lid on it, the window appeared to be a mile away. We soon began to have an additional problem. My van doesn't have air conditioning, which is not normally a problem when we are moving, but sitting in a drive thru on a 95 degree day without a/c is not my idea of fun. Add to that the fact that my van begins to overheat when it idles and my patience was wearing thin very quickly.
The menu to window time was not going to be anywhere near two and a half minutes, plus it took over five minutes to even get to the menu. I reminded Kirsten that the reason we were in this predicament was because she thought it was too hot to get out of the van. After several more minutes, we made it to the first window. Our local McDonald’s has two windows. The first window is to pay and the second is to receive your food. I gave the girl in the window her dollar and continued to sit there for another 3 minutes, not moving from the window. I was tempted to walk inside and just ask for my tea since it had probably already been poured and was sitting on a counter. Unfortunately, I was wedged between two cars and was too close to the building to open my door. The exhaust from the other vehicles was making me light headed and I was not sure if I could hold myself upright if I did get out.
I laid my head back on the seat rest and tried to concentrate my thoughts away from the sweat dripping into my eyes. I drifted off for a moment and was startled awake by a honking horn. I was excited to see that the car in front of us had moved up another car length, but after wiping my forehead on my quickly dampening shirt, I realized it was only a mirage. Kirsten had grown eerily quiet and I tried to reassure her that we were not going to die here, but my tongue had begun to swell and the lack of moisture in my mouth made it impossible to speak. Certain I was entering the early stages of heat stroke, I collapsed forward onto my steering wheel. The surface temperature quickly causing second degree burns jolted me back to reality.
I heard a slight tapping to my left and turned to see the most beautiful sight. An angel was looking out the drive thru window with a sweet tea in her hand. She said, “I figured I could just grab this for you so you wouldn’t have to wait for the next window.” I began to cry and I kissed her. She had saved us. I thanked her again and we drove off singing praises to this merciful woman. It warmed my heart to know that there are still decent people in the world, but my loathing for drive thru lanes is stronger than ever.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
School's Out For Summer! Now What?
I just returned from a walk across town to drop an envelope in the mail. I took my time and looked in several shop windows. I joked with the ladies at the bank and played with a stray dog. I helped a woman load some plants into her car and then went by the store to get one of the Italian beef sandwiches on special today. I walked back home, sat in my chair, and looked around the apartment for what to do next.
I have never been one who is hard to entertain, but today feels different. I don’t know what to do. I started school again in November and in January doubled up on the class load so I could graduate in May. The work load has been pretty intense for the last few months, but yesterday I turned in the last assignment for my research class.
I felt a huge sense of relief to know that I had finished and immediately went to a friend’s house to hang out because I had the time to do so. Today, when I woke up, I took a shower and sat down at my computer like I do every morning. I checked my email and Facebook, read a little bit of news and then logged into my school account to start my work for the day. Once the page was up, I noticed there were no tasks listed. That’s when I remembered that I had finished the day before and there was nothing that needed done, so I was free.
I stood up smiling and contemplating my choices for the day. I could do anything I wanted. Today I was not tied to a book or my computer. The possibilities were endless. I could…WHAT!!! Nothing came to mind. For weeks I had been saying that I was ready to have the semester done with so I could be free for the summer, but I had never considered what exactly I would do.
I could always watch TV, but I didn’t feel like it. Plus, that had been my escape when I took study breaks. It was the same with my XBOX. When I would take an hour off, I either watched television or played a video game while I ate. I love to read. I could read a book, but I have read 12,738 books in the last six months, I really didn’t feel like picking up another one for at least a week.
Almost everything in the apartment is already packed for the move. I can’t pack anything else because we are still living here for two more weeks. We have already taken most of our furniture to the new house. The apartment is pretty empty.
It is a Thursday morning, so almost everyone is at work or school. The few I know who are not at work are sleeping because they work midnights. I live in an apartment complex, so there is no grass to mow or anything to fix. I need to figure this out. My new job in Mt. Vernon starts on May 31, but until then, my days are free.
When I was young, this was easy. I would go to a friend’s house, start talking, and the hours would just fly. We would hop in a car and the day could take us anywhere, but that is easy to do when you have no responsibilities. I am not saying it is hard to entertain yourself as an adult. I am someone who does not get bored easily. I have never had trouble finding a way to use my time. It may not have always been productive, but I enjoyed it. So today is kind of new to me.
Maybe I should learn a new language or get to know my neighbors. I could join a gym or try to catch that skunk that has been hanging around here. I have been wanting to learn guitar. I could cook an elaborate meal for when Kirsten gets home. I may go jogging or just throw acorns at the squirrels in the park.
I still do not know what the rest of the day (or couple of weeks) holds for me, but I have succeeded in burning another hour writing this blog.
I have never been one who is hard to entertain, but today feels different. I don’t know what to do. I started school again in November and in January doubled up on the class load so I could graduate in May. The work load has been pretty intense for the last few months, but yesterday I turned in the last assignment for my research class.
I felt a huge sense of relief to know that I had finished and immediately went to a friend’s house to hang out because I had the time to do so. Today, when I woke up, I took a shower and sat down at my computer like I do every morning. I checked my email and Facebook, read a little bit of news and then logged into my school account to start my work for the day. Once the page was up, I noticed there were no tasks listed. That’s when I remembered that I had finished the day before and there was nothing that needed done, so I was free.
I stood up smiling and contemplating my choices for the day. I could do anything I wanted. Today I was not tied to a book or my computer. The possibilities were endless. I could…WHAT!!! Nothing came to mind. For weeks I had been saying that I was ready to have the semester done with so I could be free for the summer, but I had never considered what exactly I would do.
I could always watch TV, but I didn’t feel like it. Plus, that had been my escape when I took study breaks. It was the same with my XBOX. When I would take an hour off, I either watched television or played a video game while I ate. I love to read. I could read a book, but I have read 12,738 books in the last six months, I really didn’t feel like picking up another one for at least a week.
Almost everything in the apartment is already packed for the move. I can’t pack anything else because we are still living here for two more weeks. We have already taken most of our furniture to the new house. The apartment is pretty empty.
It is a Thursday morning, so almost everyone is at work or school. The few I know who are not at work are sleeping because they work midnights. I live in an apartment complex, so there is no grass to mow or anything to fix. I need to figure this out. My new job in Mt. Vernon starts on May 31, but until then, my days are free.
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| Bunny Juggling WOULD pass the time. |
Maybe I should learn a new language or get to know my neighbors. I could join a gym or try to catch that skunk that has been hanging around here. I have been wanting to learn guitar. I could cook an elaborate meal for when Kirsten gets home. I may go jogging or just throw acorns at the squirrels in the park.
I still do not know what the rest of the day (or couple of weeks) holds for me, but I have succeeded in burning another hour writing this blog.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Daddy's Little Girl
Tonight marks the another of those life moments that must come, but I am just not sure how I feel about it. I always knew it would arrive. I have joked about how I would handle it and the day is finally here. My daughter just left for the Prom.
Kirsten is a freshman, so she is not old enough to have her own prom, but she is dating a junior. I like her boyfriend. He's a good kid. When we moved to Lincoln in 1998 so I could go back to school, I quickly became friends with Jayson Ferguson. His wife and mine got along and our kids all seemed to like each other so we hung out together A LOT. We spent a little over 3 years together in college before moving away, but have always kept in touch. Now, a little over 10 years later, Kirsten and I are living in the same town as the Ferguson's once again. Alex and Kirsten hit it off immediately and have been inseparable ever since. I don't know how they will survive when we move back to Mt. Vernon at the end of this month.
Good kid or not, he is dating my daughter. There are two problems with this. First, my daughter is old enough to be dating. Second, she IS dating. No teenage boy truly understands what is going through a father's mind every time he walks out the door with our little girl. He will understand one day, but for now I think I have done a pretty good job of making sure that Alex is scared of me. We get along. I like him and I believe that he likes me, but he knows that I could kill him without much thought or remorse.
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| Alex & Kirsten sitting too close together even back then |
Good kid or not, he is dating my daughter. There are two problems with this. First, my daughter is old enough to be dating. Second, she IS dating. No teenage boy truly understands what is going through a father's mind every time he walks out the door with our little girl. He will understand one day, but for now I think I have done a pretty good job of making sure that Alex is scared of me. We get along. I like him and I believe that he likes me, but he knows that I could kill him without much thought or remorse.
Right after I graduated high school, I was headed to a girl's house to take her out for the first time. When I arrived at her house, her mother invited me in to wait while my date finished getting ready. Her father was sitting at the kitchen table glaring at me and cleaning one of the several guns he had spread about the room. While her mother made small talk, the father just kept staring at me. After several attempts at trying to get him to talk, I reached for the 16 gauge shotgun in front of me and began to clean it. I guess none of her previous suitors had reacted in such a way, because he smiled and we got along fine from then on. Unfortunately for Alex, I know that trick and it does not work on me.
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| Ready to take on the town |
Alex is not Kirsten's first boyfriend. Although, he is the first one I have let leave the house with her. Her first boyfriend was too quiet. I couldn't get the kid to talk. When he did speak, he called me "SIR," which was a point in his favor, but he rarely said anything. Her next one I was not a fan of. The first time I met him he never acknowledged me standing there. He spoke to Kirsten and ignored me. Not a good first impression, Skippy. He did the same the next time I saw him. Do parents not teach their kids basic manners any more?
So, now she has been dating the same boy for over six months. I am pleased that I am familiar with the boy that she is dating, but I cannot help but keep in mind that the longer a couple are together the more familiar they get with each other. I am happy that she is dating a respectful, young man, but still wary of the mind of the average teenage boy. I am not saying he has bad intentions, but I know how the male mind works, especially the adolescent male mind.
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| Need lots of pictures to make the parents happy |
Regardless of where I stand on the dating life of my teenage daughter, she is growing up. Her going to her first prom was a reminder of that fact. In fact, today was a series of firsts reminding me all day. Kirsten has not really worn high heels before, so today, her and I walked around the parking lot of our apartment so she could practice. I have never walked in heels, so I could not offer any pointers, but I could observe to see if her walk looked natural. She did not want to look stupid on heels. She has noticed that at other dances, you can easily spot the girls that are not used to heels. She wanted to look like a heels master. Kirsten also decided that she wanted to wear fake lashes tonight. After a couple of attempts at putting them on, she came and asked for my help. Yes, I put my daughter's lashes on for her dance. I did not get them straight on the first few attempts, but I figured it out and they look good. I am secure enough in my masculinity that I can be proud of how well I put on fake lashes.
So now I am at home alone hoping that they are having a good time, but not too good of a time. I can't help but worry. I love my daughter and it is wonderful to get to watch her grow into a young woman. She has a good head on her shoulders and has a strong sense of values, but a father still worries. I just want the best for her.
Friday, May 6, 2011
He Lived to See Adulthood
My son turns 19 years old today and that means I am getting old, but this post is not about me. This post is about him regardless of how he may feel about it. I generally do not ask my kids permission to do things. My daughter says that is why I am not allowed to go to her school: EVER!!!
Christian turned three about two months after I started dating his mother. In the beginning, we did not get along. Christian had never had to share his mother before and he did not like me invading his space. I honestly cannot say that I was much of a fan of him either. Sometimes he drew blood protecting his territory. I would sit down next to his mother and he would scratch me.
He also had a problem with controlling his saliva. He drooled so much his shirt was always soaked. He puked several times a day and destroyed every room he walked into. The relationship between him and myself was becoming a major issue, but it changed in one night.
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| Lower right |
I would dump the cans in the grass and ride over them again and again until they were all flat. I know it sounds juvenile, but I enjoyed it and they were my cans. I can do it however I want. So, I grabbed the bag to dump it in the yard and it immediately ripped spilling the cans all over the stairs. I started throwing the cans in the middle of the yard to get them away from the house so they could be more easily reached with the riding mower. Christian came and started throwing the cans around as well. He did not know why we were doing it, but he was having great fun throwing cans around the yard.
Once they were all over the front yard I got the lawn mower out. Christian wanted to ride on it also, so I lifted him up onto my lap. He had never sat in my lap before. He immediately grabbed the steering wheel so he could drive and I let him. Once he figured it out he steered all the way from the barn to the cans. He had the biggest smile on his face I had ever seen. The drool pool was building quickly because his mouth was wide open.
Since we had a big, wide-open yard there was little danger of him running into things, so I put the mower in a low gear and hopped off, letting him have complete control of the machine. Now, he was the coolest person on earth. I instructed him to drive around the yard crushing the cans while I picked them up. He was more than happy to comply. He was having a blast being a big man.
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| Christmas was always fun |
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| Mr Character at the bottom |
Our adventures did not stop as he got older. We always found ways to get in trouble together. One summer, we broke into a neighbor’s house and decorated it for Christmas, tree and all. While living in Lincoln, we got into a neighbor’s apartment to steal all their light bulbs (including the one in the refrigerator). We once got into a fight at a club and we have played mind games with people on the streets of Chicago, Cleveland, San Juan and Kansas City.
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| Closest thing he had ever seen to a stripper. He got the money in the thong part right. |
I am moving back to Mount Vernon in a couple of weeks and look forward to us hanging out again. Other people may not want to be around us at the time, but we will enjoy ourselves.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHRISTIAN.I love you.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Look Out, World...I'm Back!
When I first started this blog seven months ago, I listed things about myself so my potential future readers could get to know me. One of the items on that list stated that it has taken me 14 years to get my Bachelor’s degree. That statement back in October was more speculative than fact, although a week from now, it will be true. I am very proud to say that I will be a college graduate in one more week.
I never meant for it to take this long. When I got out of high school, I went to college like most people do. However, I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. I went to college because that is what you are supposed to do after high school. I withdrew from my classes in the middle of my third semester at Rend Lake College. I really didn’t want to be there.
I was excited to go to college at first. I was finally out of high school and it was time to venture into adulthood, but the vision quickly fizzled when I got to RLC. It took about a month for me to come to the conclusion that nothing had really changed. I felt like I was still in high school. College was supposed to be bigger and better, but the only things different were the increased commute time and number of students on campus. The classes weren’t even harder. What was the point? DISCLAIMER: I want to make it clear that I am not bashing Rend Lake College or any community college. They have their place, but I expected so much more than what I experienced.
I definitely could have made better choices, but I was 19 and wanted to get on with my life. I quit school, moved out of my parents house and ventured north to be with the girl I was dating at the time. We were together for about another year before I moved back to my home town.
Fast forward about ten years and I had reached a point in my life where I knew it was time to get serious. I was a year into my second marriage, had two kids, had become a Christian and decided I wanted to go into ministry. The spring semester of 1998 I started classes at Lincoln Christian College (now Lincoln Christian University). College was a whole different experience this time.
We moved into Married Student Housing and I hit the campus full-time. This time I wanted to be there and instead of barely making it through my classes, I was on the Dean’s List. I loved it. It was difficult to balance the family with school and definitely challenging to find time to sleep, but I pushed through. With the exception of one semester of part-time studies, I went full-time for three and a half years.
The summer before my senior year I accepted a job as minister at a church in San Juan, Puerto Rico. The plan was to incorporate this job into my internship and finish my schooling through distance learning. It may have delayed my degree by a semester or two, but I would be working in my field already. A small delay would not be an issue. However, things did not work out that way.
Due to a variety of issues, we were only on the island for seven months. I will tell that story in a future blog. None of my schooling had been started yet and we came back to the States. After bouncing around for months of not being able to find decent work and living with my grandmother, we decided to go back to Lincoln. We were there one semester before I was kicked out (another story I will tell in a future blog).
Seven years later I start taking classes through distance learning. Just a class or two per semester. I even took two classes that were on campus. Once a week I would drive three hours for a class and then drive three hours home. I was accumulating more credits, but it was a tediously slow process. Finally, last November, I started full-time again. I decided I need to get this finished and finally have it behind me. I even doubled up on classes to get it done faster. I took 24 hours this semester; it has been rough.
I have a few more papers due in the next week, but nothing I am worried about. Last night I turned in a rough draft for a major assignment. It has had me stressed for the last month, but was the last big assignment. I have to fix it for the final paper, but the bulk of the work is done. As soon as I hit the send button to my professor last night, I felt a huge weight fall off my shoulders.
I have opted to skip the ceremony (en absentia - LATIN: see how smart I am now) and just have my degree mailed to me, but I am attending a graduation banquet tomorrow night. I am not interested in sitting in a stuffy room for hours after spending money for a black robe I will only wear once, but the opportunity for free food cannot be turned down.
I will finally have that piece of paper. I started at Lincoln in the spring of 1998, so it only took me 13 ½ years, unless you want to count when I first started at Rend Lake, then it makes 21 years. I will, at long last, be able to say I am a college graduate. I do welcome any congratulations, but would more appreciate prayers. I am starting my Master’s Degree next semester and would love to complete it before I retire.
I never meant for it to take this long. When I got out of high school, I went to college like most people do. However, I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. I went to college because that is what you are supposed to do after high school. I withdrew from my classes in the middle of my third semester at Rend Lake College. I really didn’t want to be there.
I was excited to go to college at first. I was finally out of high school and it was time to venture into adulthood, but the vision quickly fizzled when I got to RLC. It took about a month for me to come to the conclusion that nothing had really changed. I felt like I was still in high school. College was supposed to be bigger and better, but the only things different were the increased commute time and number of students on campus. The classes weren’t even harder. What was the point? DISCLAIMER: I want to make it clear that I am not bashing Rend Lake College or any community college. They have their place, but I expected so much more than what I experienced.
I definitely could have made better choices, but I was 19 and wanted to get on with my life. I quit school, moved out of my parents house and ventured north to be with the girl I was dating at the time. We were together for about another year before I moved back to my home town.
Fast forward about ten years and I had reached a point in my life where I knew it was time to get serious. I was a year into my second marriage, had two kids, had become a Christian and decided I wanted to go into ministry. The spring semester of 1998 I started classes at Lincoln Christian College (now Lincoln Christian University). College was a whole different experience this time.
We moved into Married Student Housing and I hit the campus full-time. This time I wanted to be there and instead of barely making it through my classes, I was on the Dean’s List. I loved it. It was difficult to balance the family with school and definitely challenging to find time to sleep, but I pushed through. With the exception of one semester of part-time studies, I went full-time for three and a half years.
The summer before my senior year I accepted a job as minister at a church in San Juan, Puerto Rico. The plan was to incorporate this job into my internship and finish my schooling through distance learning. It may have delayed my degree by a semester or two, but I would be working in my field already. A small delay would not be an issue. However, things did not work out that way.
Due to a variety of issues, we were only on the island for seven months. I will tell that story in a future blog. None of my schooling had been started yet and we came back to the States. After bouncing around for months of not being able to find decent work and living with my grandmother, we decided to go back to Lincoln. We were there one semester before I was kicked out (another story I will tell in a future blog).
Seven years later I start taking classes through distance learning. Just a class or two per semester. I even took two classes that were on campus. Once a week I would drive three hours for a class and then drive three hours home. I was accumulating more credits, but it was a tediously slow process. Finally, last November, I started full-time again. I decided I need to get this finished and finally have it behind me. I even doubled up on classes to get it done faster. I took 24 hours this semester; it has been rough.
I have a few more papers due in the next week, but nothing I am worried about. Last night I turned in a rough draft for a major assignment. It has had me stressed for the last month, but was the last big assignment. I have to fix it for the final paper, but the bulk of the work is done. As soon as I hit the send button to my professor last night, I felt a huge weight fall off my shoulders.
I have opted to skip the ceremony (en absentia - LATIN: see how smart I am now) and just have my degree mailed to me, but I am attending a graduation banquet tomorrow night. I am not interested in sitting in a stuffy room for hours after spending money for a black robe I will only wear once, but the opportunity for free food cannot be turned down.
I will finally have that piece of paper. I started at Lincoln in the spring of 1998, so it only took me 13 ½ years, unless you want to count when I first started at Rend Lake, then it makes 21 years. I will, at long last, be able to say I am a college graduate. I do welcome any congratulations, but would more appreciate prayers. I am starting my Master’s Degree next semester and would love to complete it before I retire.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
That Which Doesn't Kill You...Makes You Realize How Old You Are
Last night was horrible and I got less than two hours sleep. My right shoulder has been bothering me for the last few days and after being ignored, it decided to try to kill me. I slept for about thirty minutes and then awoke feeling an intense pain when I tried to roll over. I couldn’t adjust my blankets, move my pillows, or even sit up without almost crying. I tried to just find a comfortable position and ignore it, but nothing seemed to work.
Every now and then it flares up, but it goes away within a couple of weeks. Several years ago, it got pretty bad and I mentioned it to my chiropractor. After an examination, he told me I had tendonitis. He even showed me where the swelling was. It hurt to the touch and that was just what he did to fix it, he touched it, a lot. I laid back on the table as he dug his fingers deep into my flesh. It was one of the worst pains I have ever felt. I honestly did not know he was only using his fingers. I thought he had some kind of sharp tool. I knew he had not actually cut into me, but it felt like it. It was horrible torture and I left feeling much worse than when I had gotten there, but it got better within a few days. Whatever he did fixed it, but I do not care to ever go through that again.
As I was laying on the floor thinking about how I need this pain to stop without having to face any type of ancient Chinese torture, I reflected on why my shoulder was hurting in the first place. It started on Sunday night.
Sunday afternoon, I was at home working on my biblical research paper proposal when my phone rang. Jayson Ferguson called to ask what I was doing. I told him I had to finish my proposal, so I was unavailable. He suggested whenever I finished we should all go to the state park in Shelbyville. I only had about an hour’s worth of work left so I agreed. Two hours later, Kirsten and I were in Shelbyville with the Ferguson’s.
While the adults talked and enjoyed each other’s company, our kids were running up and rolling down this insanely steep hill in the park. The Lake Shelbyville spillway is located there and we were at the bottom. The road wraps around to the top and there is a huge hill in between. This is one of those hills where you have to lean way back in order to walk down and it is steep enough your feet will slip out from under you without good footing.
We were enjoying watching them roll down the hill and making fun of them because they were doing it wrong. As they rolled they would slowly turn and end up sideways on the hill so they weren’t rolling down anymore. They would then have to readjust and start again. I told them to cross their ankles so their legs would not cause them to turn. Alex, Kirsten’s boyfriend, challenged me to show them. At 39 years old, I do not feel the need nor any desire to roll myself down a hill at breakneck speeds. Despite my reasonable protests, those obnoxious teenagers started to make fun of me.
Now, I do not succumb to peer pressure and was not about to get covered in grass and be itching for the rest of the evening, but I did have a point to prove. I challenged Alex to a race down the hill on foot. I tried to make it clear to him that this 17 year old boy was about to get beaten by a 39 year old man. He would be shamed for thinking his youth was so wonderful.
I chose the steepest part of the hill to run down to display how fearless I was. After looking at the hill for a moment, we took off. I immediately took the lead. Although I knew how steep the angle was before we started, I totally underestimated how quickly I would achieve an unstoppable speed. It quickly grew very scary, but I was winning and intended to keep it that way. As I felt the muscles in my legs start to knot, I suddenly started thinking about my grandmother.
When I was in junior high, we had a large plastic barrel my brothers and I loved to play with. It was the size of a 55-gallon drum, but it was thick plastic. Our favorite thing to do with it was take it to the top of the hill in our back yard, crawl inside it and roll down. It was wonderful fun and we would be so dizzy when we got out we could hardly see or walk. One day, my grandmother came home and saw us enjoying the fun of the barrel. After watching for a while, she said she wanted to try it. As much as I wanted to see that, it scared me a little. What if we broke her? However, my dad was there as well and didn’t seem to have a problem with it, so we helped her into the barrel.
Grandma was not as small or limber as us and had to get down on her knees, lean forward, sit back on her feet and then slowly shuffle into the barrel. She didn’t even fit all the way inside and her head stuck out the end, but she said she was ready so we pushed her down the hill. I will never forget seeing her hair bobbing up and down and she rolled to the bottom. Once she came to a stop, we had to help her out of the barrel the same way we helped her in. She was very dizzy and stumbled around for a while. She said it was fun, but did not opt for another turn. It is one of my favorite memories of her.
My mind snapped back to reality as I approached the halfway point of the hill. This section straightens out for about fifteen feet before dropping off again. I was grateful for this section, because I had reached a speed where I did not know if I could stop and was going to use this opportunity to slow down a little before taking on the next section. Unfortunately, my muscles had already grown accustomed to stepping down to maintain balance and the first step onto the flat ground jarred my knee. As much as that really hurt, my momentum was way too much to slow down and I went airborne off the next drop off.
With a new wince of pain and an impacting of my spine, I was amazed that I had landed on my feet. As much as I wanted to win, my new goal was to just stay upright so I wouldn’t break anything. However, it didn’t look like that was going to happen. My velocity had dramatically increased to a radically uncontrollable level. As the trembling in my calves reached a level where I swear I could hear the vibrations, I actually reached the bottom of the hill. It took about forty feet to come to a stop and when I looked back I saw that I had at least a seventy-five foot lead. This old man had beaten a teenager and was not going to let him forget it. However, since my lungs were still on fire, I couldn’t talk to rub it in his face.
Since this was the close of the day, I crawled to the car and celebrated in my mind. I got into the driver’s seat and discovered I could barely lift my arms. I sat there puzzled as to why my arms would be hurting. My legs were obvious, but my arms did not make sense. As I recalled the death race down the hill, I remembered how fast I was going and how tense I was. I was moving at such a rate, I had my fists clenched and my arm muscles were very tense. They were moving so fast back and forth while being tensed, I think I pulled something. Later they felt better, but were sore like I had experienced a strong workout. However, by bedtime my shoulder had started to throb.
While my arms have gotten less and less sore as the days went on, my shoulder has intensified. The pain is tolerable if I just let it rest by my side, but it must be supported. Letting it hang seems to be a problem. It is also not happy to move forward or backwards, and strongly protests at the mere thought of being lifted.
However, as a man, it is my responsibility to deal with it until it either heals or falls off. What else am I supposed to do? With my 40th birthday a few months away, I am not giving any doctor an opportunity to put on his latex gloves. My preacher once sunk a hatchet in his shin bone while on a mission trip. In true male fashion, he pulled it out, wrapped the wound in duct tape and kept working. I have never seen him in shorts, but as far as I know he still has both legs. Therefore, I will ride it out. What's the worst that could happen?
As with most experiences, I have learned something from all of this: It takes significantly longer to type with one hand.
Every now and then it flares up, but it goes away within a couple of weeks. Several years ago, it got pretty bad and I mentioned it to my chiropractor. After an examination, he told me I had tendonitis. He even showed me where the swelling was. It hurt to the touch and that was just what he did to fix it, he touched it, a lot. I laid back on the table as he dug his fingers deep into my flesh. It was one of the worst pains I have ever felt. I honestly did not know he was only using his fingers. I thought he had some kind of sharp tool. I knew he had not actually cut into me, but it felt like it. It was horrible torture and I left feeling much worse than when I had gotten there, but it got better within a few days. Whatever he did fixed it, but I do not care to ever go through that again.
As I was laying on the floor thinking about how I need this pain to stop without having to face any type of ancient Chinese torture, I reflected on why my shoulder was hurting in the first place. It started on Sunday night.
Sunday afternoon, I was at home working on my biblical research paper proposal when my phone rang. Jayson Ferguson called to ask what I was doing. I told him I had to finish my proposal, so I was unavailable. He suggested whenever I finished we should all go to the state park in Shelbyville. I only had about an hour’s worth of work left so I agreed. Two hours later, Kirsten and I were in Shelbyville with the Ferguson’s.
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| Notice how steep this is |
We were enjoying watching them roll down the hill and making fun of them because they were doing it wrong. As they rolled they would slowly turn and end up sideways on the hill so they weren’t rolling down anymore. They would then have to readjust and start again. I told them to cross their ankles so their legs would not cause them to turn. Alex, Kirsten’s boyfriend, challenged me to show them. At 39 years old, I do not feel the need nor any desire to roll myself down a hill at breakneck speeds. Despite my reasonable protests, those obnoxious teenagers started to make fun of me.
Now, I do not succumb to peer pressure and was not about to get covered in grass and be itching for the rest of the evening, but I did have a point to prove. I challenged Alex to a race down the hill on foot. I tried to make it clear to him that this 17 year old boy was about to get beaten by a 39 year old man. He would be shamed for thinking his youth was so wonderful.
I chose the steepest part of the hill to run down to display how fearless I was. After looking at the hill for a moment, we took off. I immediately took the lead. Although I knew how steep the angle was before we started, I totally underestimated how quickly I would achieve an unstoppable speed. It quickly grew very scary, but I was winning and intended to keep it that way. As I felt the muscles in my legs start to knot, I suddenly started thinking about my grandmother.
When I was in junior high, we had a large plastic barrel my brothers and I loved to play with. It was the size of a 55-gallon drum, but it was thick plastic. Our favorite thing to do with it was take it to the top of the hill in our back yard, crawl inside it and roll down. It was wonderful fun and we would be so dizzy when we got out we could hardly see or walk. One day, my grandmother came home and saw us enjoying the fun of the barrel. After watching for a while, she said she wanted to try it. As much as I wanted to see that, it scared me a little. What if we broke her? However, my dad was there as well and didn’t seem to have a problem with it, so we helped her into the barrel.
Grandma was not as small or limber as us and had to get down on her knees, lean forward, sit back on her feet and then slowly shuffle into the barrel. She didn’t even fit all the way inside and her head stuck out the end, but she said she was ready so we pushed her down the hill. I will never forget seeing her hair bobbing up and down and she rolled to the bottom. Once she came to a stop, we had to help her out of the barrel the same way we helped her in. She was very dizzy and stumbled around for a while. She said it was fun, but did not opt for another turn. It is one of my favorite memories of her.
My mind snapped back to reality as I approached the halfway point of the hill. This section straightens out for about fifteen feet before dropping off again. I was grateful for this section, because I had reached a speed where I did not know if I could stop and was going to use this opportunity to slow down a little before taking on the next section. Unfortunately, my muscles had already grown accustomed to stepping down to maintain balance and the first step onto the flat ground jarred my knee. As much as that really hurt, my momentum was way too much to slow down and I went airborne off the next drop off.
 |
| For perspective on the size of this hill, notice the small spots that are actually Taylor and Kirsten. |
Since this was the close of the day, I crawled to the car and celebrated in my mind. I got into the driver’s seat and discovered I could barely lift my arms. I sat there puzzled as to why my arms would be hurting. My legs were obvious, but my arms did not make sense. As I recalled the death race down the hill, I remembered how fast I was going and how tense I was. I was moving at such a rate, I had my fists clenched and my arm muscles were very tense. They were moving so fast back and forth while being tensed, I think I pulled something. Later they felt better, but were sore like I had experienced a strong workout. However, by bedtime my shoulder had started to throb.
While my arms have gotten less and less sore as the days went on, my shoulder has intensified. The pain is tolerable if I just let it rest by my side, but it must be supported. Letting it hang seems to be a problem. It is also not happy to move forward or backwards, and strongly protests at the mere thought of being lifted.
However, as a man, it is my responsibility to deal with it until it either heals or falls off. What else am I supposed to do? With my 40th birthday a few months away, I am not giving any doctor an opportunity to put on his latex gloves. My preacher once sunk a hatchet in his shin bone while on a mission trip. In true male fashion, he pulled it out, wrapped the wound in duct tape and kept working. I have never seen him in shorts, but as far as I know he still has both legs. Therefore, I will ride it out. What's the worst that could happen?
As with most experiences, I have learned something from all of this: It takes significantly longer to type with one hand.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Biblical Mistranslation and Special Interest Groups
I was driving home with a friend after last week’s rain and she noticed a beautiful rainbow over the trees to the east. It was probably the brightest one I have ever seen. I pulled the van off the road to admire it before it faded away. It was amazing.
After watching the rainbow for a while she commented that she really didn’t understand how rainbows hang in the sky like that. I felt obliged to explain it to her and started to give her the history of rainbows. I explained that they were a product of the U.S. military and why they were invented in 1947. She abruptly cut me off. She exclaimed that although she may not know how they work, she knew they have been around for thousands of years. She gently reminded me that it was in the Bible that God created rainbows after the Flood to show the world that he would never destroy the earth by flood again.
She was referring to Genesis 9:13 which reads in the New International Version, “I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.” I couldn’t blame her. It is a common, although misguided thought. The translators of the NIV made a mistake. If we look at the King James Version, it reads, “I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.” The King James translates the Hebrew word קשת correctly. Unfortunately, there has been a misconception of what a bow is. The word has evolved and has not been used in this manner for several centuries.
The word bow according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary when used as a verb means “to cease from competition or resistance.” You can check the definition here. While this word is now only used as a verb, at one time it was used as a noun. When used as a noun, it meant a “cessation of substance” or “area of lower density.”
Therefore, when Genesis says that God created a bow, it referred to an area of less or no rain in the midst of rain. A rainbow and a rain bow are not the same thing. While a rainbow is the colorful arc caused after a rain by the refraction and reflection of the sun’s rays in raindrops, spray, or mist, a rain bow is a place in the middle of a storm where there is no rain. When you are driving in the rain and it stops for a moment and then starts again, that was a bow in the rain, or a rain bow. It is the same as when you can see it raining across the street, but it is not raining where you are. This is a rain bow. Now that we have that cleared up, let’s get back to the origin of rainbows like the one we were looking at last week.
Rainbows were invented by military scientists at the Roswell Army Air Field in Roswell, New Mexico. The air field had a national security issue in the mid-1940’s that needed to be promptly resolved. Roswell was the leading manufacturer of experimental aircraft for the military and often tested their new developments late at night when most people would be asleep. Unfortunately, the unusual lights in the sky were frequently spotted by people who worked late and insomniacs.
Military scientists and engineers brainstormed to come up with a solution. They needed to prevent civilians from witnessing the test flights and possibly discovering military secrets. They concluded that building a wall two miles tall around the entire base would not be cost-effective and relocating the civilians within eyesight would take too long. It was in this brainstorming session that they came up with Project R.A.I.N.B.O.W.
Radio-Active Iridescent Nuclear Bio-Optical Weapon
While not actually a weapon, the idea was to create something bright and beautiful in the sky in the opposite direction of the planes doing their test flights. This would cause people to be distracted and not notice the planes. This brilliant concept still works today. When someone sees a rainbow, they always point it out to other people and those people always look. Some people even go as far as to make a phone call to tell people to look out their window at the beautiful rainbow. A bank could get robbed and it would not be noticed if there was a rainbow glowing in the sky in the opposite direction.
After spending millions of dollars, Project R.A.I.N.B.O.W. was almost scrapped after it’s first test run. On July 9, 1947 the local newspaper Roswell Daily Record reported that a high-altitude weather balloon crashed on a ranch near the airfield. There was much speculation and many rumors milling around the area about what had actually crashed, but the newspaper story was correct. It was a weather balloon, but the military did not release the rest of the story.
The weather balloon went down because a test pilot collided with it in mid-air. He had been temporarily blinded when a bright flash of colors shot up from the ground. The blinded pilot veered off-course and struck the weather balloon. The pilot and plane were fine, but the balloon crashed to the earth. After a few more test runs with similar near disastrous results, the scientists made a few adjustments and re-engineered their new invention to work during the day. From this point on all test flights were done in broad daylight while people were mesmerized by the pretty colors on the other side of the horizon.
After several years of successful test flights without incident the generals in the Pentagon were looking for a more destructive, military-type use for the rainbows. They wanted to use them strategically in war situations. Since the rainbow had no destructive power, the generals decided to use it in the same manner it had been used successfully for the last several years. It makes a wonderful distraction. It could be implemented outside an enemy air field keeping enemy pilots from reaching their destination. It could also be turned on in the middle of a fierce land battle. Unsuccessful tests were conducted to produce special lenses that could be worn by American soldiers so they would not be distracted by it’s brilliance.
In the mid-50’s, they had their answer. Computers had become sophisticated enough that scientists installed the rainbows with artificial intelligence. With an independent intelligence, the rainbows' computers could make split-second decisions on the battlefield to determine the most strategic place to illuminate. The research laboratory was brimming with excitement as the programmers awaited the results of the field test.
Things did not go the way the generals, engineers, and programmers had planned. It seemed that the rainbows could not determine the difference between domestic and foreign soldiers. They distracted every moving thing on the battlefield. With these disappointing results and the recent dismantling of the Roswell experimental flight program, Washington decided to bury the project. However, the newly intelligent rainbows were not ready to be put down. The rainbows' failure on the battlefield was due to the fact that they were now only interested in self-preservation. They saw every person as an enemy to themselves with no regard for who may be an American. The rainbows used their new intelligence to formulate a plan to escape from the base and power themselves.
The military launched a full-scale assault against the rainbows to no avail. Rainbows cannot be destroyed since they are only a refraction of light. Despite the best efforts of the military the rainbows remained at large and even began to reproduce themselves. Within weeks there were sightings of rogue rainbows in every state in the country.
Although rainbows could not be destroyed, they did not enjoy being attacked all the time. Using their computer-speed intelligence they came up with a plan to get back at the people that were trying to destroy them. Since they had no actual defenses and could not do any damage they decided to retaliate by creating a nuisance that could not be ignored. Rainbows understood that they were beautiful creations that people loved to stare at. They decided to make something devoid of color that people would not want to see or experience. It needed to be something that would make people cringe at the very thought. The rainbows had their plan and they released their creation onto the world: MIMES!!!
Just as the rainbows had planned, they were soon forgotten about. Mimes were everywhere. They infiltrated birthday parties, state carnivals, and public parks. People could not walk through a park without being imitated by one of these black and white abominations. Worldwide public outrage prompted a quick response from governments all over the world. The United States, facing international pressure, lead the way in trying to eradicate the Mime Invasion.
Since mimes are similar in appearance to humans, they could not be killed without protests from various human rights organizations. Congress passed laws forbidding people from feeding them, housing them, or offering them employment. Countries around the world quickly followed suit. France, however, offered mimes asylum and they congregated there by the thousands.
Around the world most mimes died within a few months and their bodies littered the streets. The smell of decaying mimes was too much for the public to bear. The same problem was occurring in France despite the special statutes protecting them, because due to the huge numbers of mimes in the country as a result of the protective sanctuary that was offered to them, there was not sufficient mime food to feed them all. Nevertheless, the smell didn’t seem to bother the French. In other parts of the world Mime Rights groups were starting to form. One organization even succeeded in getting mimes established as their own race.
Since mimes are not particularly intelligent, unlike their creators, most just died off, but some of the craftier ones banded together to survive. A few even became part of paramilitary resistance groups. In Waco, Texas a mime resistance group formed calling themselves Fighters Against Racial Tension (FART). They were silent, but deadly. In their last stand, they held off ATF agents for 50 days before being burned out and gunned down. This marked the end of guerrilla mime warfare.
Public outrage forced Congress to pursue a new tactic. Lawmakers knew that the mime scourge still had to be squashed, but it had to be done discreetly. All laws restricting travel, lodging, and commerce were lifted and the government even provided jobs for every mime. Call centers were set up all over the country and the mimes were put to work as telemarketers. The scheme was brilliant. The government had provided jobs and given them a way to support themselves. No one could legitimately complain.
The telemarketing jobs offered fantastic compensation, but it was based on commission only. If the mimes wanted to get paid they had to make sales. The program would take care of itself. The mime population has been dropping steadily ever since. There are very few left today. The world is possibly one generation away from putting this dark period behind us.
However, if you are one of those bleeding heart types that feels sorry for them, remember this next time you get one of those phone calls and there is no one on the other end. It may just be a mime trying to feed his family. When you get that call just say, “I’ll take two,” and then give your credit card information. You may just save a life.
After watching the rainbow for a while she commented that she really didn’t understand how rainbows hang in the sky like that. I felt obliged to explain it to her and started to give her the history of rainbows. I explained that they were a product of the U.S. military and why they were invented in 1947. She abruptly cut me off. She exclaimed that although she may not know how they work, she knew they have been around for thousands of years. She gently reminded me that it was in the Bible that God created rainbows after the Flood to show the world that he would never destroy the earth by flood again.
The word bow according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary when used as a verb means “to cease from competition or resistance.” You can check the definition here. While this word is now only used as a verb, at one time it was used as a noun. When used as a noun, it meant a “cessation of substance” or “area of lower density.”
Therefore, when Genesis says that God created a bow, it referred to an area of less or no rain in the midst of rain. A rainbow and a rain bow are not the same thing. While a rainbow is the colorful arc caused after a rain by the refraction and reflection of the sun’s rays in raindrops, spray, or mist, a rain bow is a place in the middle of a storm where there is no rain. When you are driving in the rain and it stops for a moment and then starts again, that was a bow in the rain, or a rain bow. It is the same as when you can see it raining across the street, but it is not raining where you are. This is a rain bow. Now that we have that cleared up, let’s get back to the origin of rainbows like the one we were looking at last week.
Rainbows were invented by military scientists at the Roswell Army Air Field in Roswell, New Mexico. The air field had a national security issue in the mid-1940’s that needed to be promptly resolved. Roswell was the leading manufacturer of experimental aircraft for the military and often tested their new developments late at night when most people would be asleep. Unfortunately, the unusual lights in the sky were frequently spotted by people who worked late and insomniacs.
Military scientists and engineers brainstormed to come up with a solution. They needed to prevent civilians from witnessing the test flights and possibly discovering military secrets. They concluded that building a wall two miles tall around the entire base would not be cost-effective and relocating the civilians within eyesight would take too long. It was in this brainstorming session that they came up with Project R.A.I.N.B.O.W.
Radio-Active Iridescent Nuclear Bio-Optical Weapon
While not actually a weapon, the idea was to create something bright and beautiful in the sky in the opposite direction of the planes doing their test flights. This would cause people to be distracted and not notice the planes. This brilliant concept still works today. When someone sees a rainbow, they always point it out to other people and those people always look. Some people even go as far as to make a phone call to tell people to look out their window at the beautiful rainbow. A bank could get robbed and it would not be noticed if there was a rainbow glowing in the sky in the opposite direction.
After spending millions of dollars, Project R.A.I.N.B.O.W. was almost scrapped after it’s first test run. On July 9, 1947 the local newspaper Roswell Daily Record reported that a high-altitude weather balloon crashed on a ranch near the airfield. There was much speculation and many rumors milling around the area about what had actually crashed, but the newspaper story was correct. It was a weather balloon, but the military did not release the rest of the story.
The weather balloon went down because a test pilot collided with it in mid-air. He had been temporarily blinded when a bright flash of colors shot up from the ground. The blinded pilot veered off-course and struck the weather balloon. The pilot and plane were fine, but the balloon crashed to the earth. After a few more test runs with similar near disastrous results, the scientists made a few adjustments and re-engineered their new invention to work during the day. From this point on all test flights were done in broad daylight while people were mesmerized by the pretty colors on the other side of the horizon.
After several years of successful test flights without incident the generals in the Pentagon were looking for a more destructive, military-type use for the rainbows. They wanted to use them strategically in war situations. Since the rainbow had no destructive power, the generals decided to use it in the same manner it had been used successfully for the last several years. It makes a wonderful distraction. It could be implemented outside an enemy air field keeping enemy pilots from reaching their destination. It could also be turned on in the middle of a fierce land battle. Unsuccessful tests were conducted to produce special lenses that could be worn by American soldiers so they would not be distracted by it’s brilliance.
In the mid-50’s, they had their answer. Computers had become sophisticated enough that scientists installed the rainbows with artificial intelligence. With an independent intelligence, the rainbows' computers could make split-second decisions on the battlefield to determine the most strategic place to illuminate. The research laboratory was brimming with excitement as the programmers awaited the results of the field test.
Things did not go the way the generals, engineers, and programmers had planned. It seemed that the rainbows could not determine the difference between domestic and foreign soldiers. They distracted every moving thing on the battlefield. With these disappointing results and the recent dismantling of the Roswell experimental flight program, Washington decided to bury the project. However, the newly intelligent rainbows were not ready to be put down. The rainbows' failure on the battlefield was due to the fact that they were now only interested in self-preservation. They saw every person as an enemy to themselves with no regard for who may be an American. The rainbows used their new intelligence to formulate a plan to escape from the base and power themselves.
The military launched a full-scale assault against the rainbows to no avail. Rainbows cannot be destroyed since they are only a refraction of light. Despite the best efforts of the military the rainbows remained at large and even began to reproduce themselves. Within weeks there were sightings of rogue rainbows in every state in the country.
Although rainbows could not be destroyed, they did not enjoy being attacked all the time. Using their computer-speed intelligence they came up with a plan to get back at the people that were trying to destroy them. Since they had no actual defenses and could not do any damage they decided to retaliate by creating a nuisance that could not be ignored. Rainbows understood that they were beautiful creations that people loved to stare at. They decided to make something devoid of color that people would not want to see or experience. It needed to be something that would make people cringe at the very thought. The rainbows had their plan and they released their creation onto the world: MIMES!!!
Since mimes are similar in appearance to humans, they could not be killed without protests from various human rights organizations. Congress passed laws forbidding people from feeding them, housing them, or offering them employment. Countries around the world quickly followed suit. France, however, offered mimes asylum and they congregated there by the thousands.
Around the world most mimes died within a few months and their bodies littered the streets. The smell of decaying mimes was too much for the public to bear. The same problem was occurring in France despite the special statutes protecting them, because due to the huge numbers of mimes in the country as a result of the protective sanctuary that was offered to them, there was not sufficient mime food to feed them all. Nevertheless, the smell didn’t seem to bother the French. In other parts of the world Mime Rights groups were starting to form. One organization even succeeded in getting mimes established as their own race.Public outrage forced Congress to pursue a new tactic. Lawmakers knew that the mime scourge still had to be squashed, but it had to be done discreetly. All laws restricting travel, lodging, and commerce were lifted and the government even provided jobs for every mime. Call centers were set up all over the country and the mimes were put to work as telemarketers. The scheme was brilliant. The government had provided jobs and given them a way to support themselves. No one could legitimately complain.
The telemarketing jobs offered fantastic compensation, but it was based on commission only. If the mimes wanted to get paid they had to make sales. The program would take care of itself. The mime population has been dropping steadily ever since. There are very few left today. The world is possibly one generation away from putting this dark period behind us.
However, if you are one of those bleeding heart types that feels sorry for them, remember this next time you get one of those phone calls and there is no one on the other end. It may just be a mime trying to feed his family. When you get that call just say, “I’ll take two,” and then give your credit card information. You may just save a life.
%20There%20is%20often%20a%20lot%20of%20misunderstanding%20about%20the%20Flood%20from%20the%20Bible.%20I%20explain%20what%20it%20really%20means%20and%20the%20implications%20of%20today.%20You%20may%20be%20surprised. "Pin It")
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