Uncategorizabibble...

Sometimes I go into the Home Depot looking for something, and I just can't think which aisle they would put it in. And then there's sometimes that they stock stuff in weird places that I don't understand. They must have a team of engineers working on these things, otherwise it would all make sense. But really, sometimes there just isn't a category for what you're looking for, or for what you have to say...

Take this little link for instance:

Now maybe I would have chosen to place it in "PETS" as well, maybe not, but it struck me a bit funny.

Only in Homeschool...

Here is a curious example of my children's artwork. Currently learning about ziggurats, the tower of Babel, ancient culture, etc. my "dark one" as I like to call her, produced an altar complete with slain human sacrifice. Note the tell-tale juvenile reality alteration: blood is green, altar is purple, but the person is white. I don't know what that means. But being the emcouraging father I am I did say "Wow, Em, that's a really great human sacrifice."

She'd probably be in therapy if she was in public school. Maybe we'll work on toning it down a bit before she hits that point...

Name that Nagaina

The deal has been struck, the virgin sacrificed, the gods appeased. I await my new carpet python to eat two more meals, then I can pick it up. That should be roughly two to three weeks from now. So, I have time to think of a name... or for other people to think of a name. I have already picked the one I want, but they change looks so much as they grow, I might change my mind when I pick it up. But if I get the one I liked on Sunday, it will be a girl. So let's hear some suggestions. (The above photo is something close to what it will look like. I will update with an actual pic when I get mine.)

What's the prize, you might ask? Well, it's simply the satisfaction of knowing that you have named something that will live for twenty to thirty years, and I will say it's name lovingly every day as I try to get it not to bite me. It would look something like this:

"Easy, now, easy, come on girl... you sure do have an evil smile on your face today. OK, I'm just gonna reach in and slowly pick you up, so... $@%&* (insert your entry here), you legless worm! I'm gonna make a belt out of you if you do that again!"

Spring clean-out

I was rummaging through the dusty attic of my inbox the other day to clean it up a bit. Ya know, organize, erase, and otherwise... And I came across an email I sent to a good buddy of mine. He had suggested I post it months ago, but I thought it might offend. I guess I wiser back then...

Hear now the final word on the Egalitarianism vs. Complimentarianism debate:

Egalitarianism= BAD Complimentarianism= GOOD Here's why...

Do you know what egalitarianism means? let me break it down for you...

E- stands for the internet, spreader of bad things in general: Porn, Wikepedia, Disney email chain letters, Joe the Plumber, etc.

Gal- indicates a heavy connection with the fairer sex, another sign of trouble.

I- and you know anything that puts I in the center can't be all good. There's no "I" in team whatsoever...

T- the one bright spot here, hopefully Irish Breakfast. I prefer mine with a little cream and sugar. My wife thinks it's gay, so I drink it with shot of vodka to give some man balance.

Arian- We all know that's a bad word.

Ism- That's just how you end such a big, complecated word that no one knows the meaning of. It lets you say, "Hey, I bet you don't even know what E-Gal-I-T-Arian- is, M?

And on the other side, everybody likes a compliment...

Case closed, have a nice day.

An End to Possibilities

On this last day of the month of May I feel as though some great hope is being squashed. The past thirty days have been a blur of optimism and opportunity, but tomorrow will be different. Likely, it will rain, I will get up late, spill my coffee and my dog will get ran over, and I don't even have a dog. Why?

It's simply because the May is all used up, and we have crossed into the dark, dank month whose name has no alternate meaning at all.

June O what I mean?

Think about this one...

What do you think happens between our mouths and the ground that makes spit suddenly so disgusting? Seriously, our mouths are full of it our entire lives, but when we spit, it grosses us out.

Is it because it's cold?

Well, that's all I've got, folks. I just hope no one gags when they read this...

What the Nail???

Here's something that just doesn't happen every day.

My question is, how can he not remember that thing flying up there??

Famous Family

I'm probably going to get in trouble with someone about this, but here I go anyway:

My sister-in-law looks EXACTLY like the girl in the Twilight movie. You be the judge.



I don't know how she found the time, what with three kids and all...

A situation I never thought I would be in:

Lying on the bed, surrounded by three little girls debating over how deep my bellybutton is.

(They never did figure it out.)

Parental choices and their offspring

The decisions we make can have long-lasting effects that we never could have foreseen. Here's an example of just one such effect.

What do you get when you (a) live in a house full of women and (b) feel the strong need to be open and honest with your children about all sorts of things and (c) think that if they are old enough to ask the question, they are old enough to have it answered?

Answer: You get kids who know the fundamental differences between girls and boys, and also know just where to put that extra snowman pipe...

Personal Taboo?

There is not enough soap in the world to make this not feel just plain wrong:

Making homemade cookies right after unclogging a toilet.

Maybe it's just me...

Covering all bases

How do you say you're sorry for both everything and nothing at the same time? Here's a little example from everyone's favorite witch they used to hate but now they love and just totally understand:

"And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I've done you blame me for"

Miss Elphaba sings from the song For Good, from the musical Wicked

An apology- of sorts

OK, I had wonderful intentions, I really meant to quit. I just got tired of working in a very "concrete" world of construction, then coming home and feeling guilty that I hadn't blogged in a week. Why would I feel guilty? I don't know, but I could probably blame it on my parents. I also don't like feeling pressured/encouraged by "dude, the world needs to hear your message" propaganda. Come on, I'm not that dumb... or arrogant. So does this mean I'm back? I can't say that for certain, since I would have had to have been here in the first place...

But this is just too strange to pass up:

I was in the grocery store tonight, and the check out girl couldn't talk properly. I don't mean she had an accent or a lisp, but she may have been deaf. That's just what it sounded like to me, but I couldn't understand her no matter how hard I tried. Here's how it went down:

Kevin places food on conveyor belt, wonders just how many stories they can run on that poor Jean-Benet girl.

Checkoutchic: "Thun yu ham unghhard?" (Do you have a card?) That's a rewards card...

Kevin, exercising his foreknowledge, almost answers question, but so caught off guard by someone who's job it was to talk to people not being able to talk, has to reply:

"Heh?"

Checkoutchic: "Thun yu ham unghhard?"

Kevin has the nerve to be surprised at the indecipherable nature of the second round, makes a bold move:

"Well, I have one, but not on me..." Averts eyes to the bagger gal, hoping he guessed right.

Checkoutchic: .......... (I guess she knew I didn't speak Mumblese.) Proceeds to ring stuff up.

Checkoutchic: "Tahnoo thahn thith?"

Kevin, utilizing all his mental capacity, cracks the code, helped by the credit card receipt shoved at him, signs the slip.

(No eye contact, there may have been a "thank you", but how would we know?)




Now, I'm no Mumblophobic, but firmly believe that a job requiring understandable speaking would be held only by those who can perform such a task. Call me crazy...

And don't get me started on Dunkin Donuts, who seems to put the only straight-off-the-boat-er on the drivethrough.

Have you ever had something like this happen to you, or seen someone working a job that they just couldn't do?

Signing off...

I've come to a decision. Aside from my wife's enthusiastic cheerleading, I see no reason to continue to operate a blog. I really don't even know why I started in the first place, other than every one else has a blog, so I must as well. Shoot, I can't even think of a pithy name for it... I'm just not going to leave my virtual trash around any more cluttering up the internet super-highway. Let's leave that up to the pros, or at least folks with something interesting to say on a regular basis.

Should I think of something profound to say, I will write it in a diary and Becca can publish it after I die. Be on the look out.

It's been a long time coming, but please consider my last post to be my best, maybe just because it is my last...

Green shorts and Man

This is the sight to which I awoke yesterday morning. Well, actually, it was the ceiling, but shortly thereafter, I saw the temperature. So I checked the web, and it said 11 degrees. Fortunately though, it also said it feels like zero.

It's days like this that challenge my manhood, or at least my stubbornness (which are easy to confuse sometimes).

I am a wearer of shorts, and that because I do not like pants. Hmmmmm...

Would I like them in a tree? Would I like them next to me?

Would I like them with a ham? Would I like them, Sam I am?

I would not like them in a tree, I would not like them next to me.

I would not like them with a ham, I do not like them, Sam I am!



Sorry, I have little kids. At least that's my excuse.

I consider it a personal challenge to laugh in the face of winter for as long as possible, so every year, I avoid wearing pants to work for as long as possible. My goal this year is to make it to the new year or in-my-shoes-deep snow, whichever comes first.

Maybe I should consider wearing shorts for charity, or maybe just for money.

Life lessons from the herpatorium

This our chameleon, Mr. Tumnus gettin' wild and crazy in his cubicle. The speed you see him moving in this picture is about his usual speed. Yeah, that's right, he's still. Very observant.

He was always so frisky, at least until I caught him mistaking his own tail for a cricket. He was wrapped in a large circle around a branch, just holding it. I guess he thought it would eventually tire, and then he could eat it.

Weeks went by, and I noticed while watering him that almost all of his tail was shriveled and black. "Hmmm..." I thought, "I don't know if that looks good.".

Two days later his tail fell off. "Problem solved", I thought.

Well, that wasn't really accurate, because a few weeks later he was dead. I don't know if it was some kind of infection, or that he gave up living because he couldn't hang any more, but I tend toward the latter.

So what's the point of all this? Is there a moral to this story? Oh Yes, there's a moral to every story. You just have to be creative enough, and something will always pop up.

So here's what I've come up with so far:

"Those who chew their own arses may have it come back to bite them in the end."

I think that's pithy enough, don't you? Are there more?

Never a Dull Moment

So I've been promoting shamelessly the recently released ESV Study Bible, which I believe to be the best Bible ever produced. It's not the point of this post to tell you why, and I don't have time to do a proper review anyway. Besides, if I only posted things I could discuss well, I would never post. When our story picked up, I had bought two of them, neither for myself. So...


Completely unintentionally, I moved to a spot in New England roughly 45 minutes from the CBD warehouse. I actually don't know if it's THE warehouse, but that's just what we call 'round here. They have a sale three or so times a year where you can get some killer deals on Christian books and whatnot. I'm not interested in the whatnot, but cheap books make giggle...

I knew a sale was coming up, so I decided to attend with one purpose: Acquire myself an ESV Study Bible. Normally, you can get a genuine leather Bible for about $20, so that's what I expected to find. This is the overly drawn out tale of my journey and the fruits thereof.

The doors opened at 8, so I got there at 7:30, with 250 people in front of me. I felt bad about that until 8, when there were 1000 behind me...

I immediately rushed to the Bible section, finding about 75 others milling around. The eight tables full of Bibles were labeled by version, so I thought my job would be quick and easy. I immediately sought out the ESV section, but it took up only 2 feet, and my prey was nowhere in sight.

I was actually after another thing or two, so I found them and came back to get serious. Under every table, stacked two high, were boxes full of Bibles. For about an hour, I looked through every one of them. This was made more difficult than imaginable by the 250 people stuffed around the tables like a European soccer match (without the suffocation).

Do you know what happens when you put 250 Christians in a room made to hold 50? I'm sure it changes as time goes on, but if B.O. were water, I'd have drowned...

After my fruitless search in the Bible area, I decided to go to the scholastic area to look for a Greek NT I need. While standing in the mass, I noticed a guy next to me had what I was looking for in his hand. I smiled at him and said "Did you get that on the Bible table?" "Yes" he said. I smiled again and said "You lucky devil!"

This was not right thing to say...

He looked very offended and growled "First of all, there's no such thing as luck."

I tried to not look like anything and move away as quickly as possible. As my "luck", or should I say providence turned out, that wasn't very far in the subway-like atmosphere of stinky-Christian-bargainhunterville. So I resumed my search for anything that would let me never talk to that guy again.

No exaggeration, about two minutes later, I heard a voice in my ear- "And I'm not a Demon either..."

I just kept looking.

By this time I had been sweating to Steven Curtis Chapman for about two hours now, so it seemed time to pack it in and concede defeat. Things didn't really change for a while since all I could really do was turn the opposite direction and wait.

While trying to not pass out from the fumes, I noticed some warehouse gents with hand trucks wheeling out some more books. As "luck" would have it, they got stuck in traffic right next to me. I didn't have anything else to do, so I stole a peek into the box... Bibles! Could it be?

Top box, third book down, was an ESV Study Bible. I'd recognize that loveliness anywhere by now. So I told the dude with cart, "I need to follow you." He said "OK."

So with another change of directions, and a CBD lead blocker, Hand-truck Bill and stinky tired Kevin made our way over to a safe zone. It was there I met the love of my life: A black calf-skin ESV Study Bible. Retail- $158, CBD sale- $48.

Needless to say, I'm still trying to calm down.

Now when you look at the picture, you may be asking yourself: "What's that gold bar on the cover?" I'm glad you asked. It could either represent how much money I saved, or it could be the thing covering the engraving that they either messed up or had sent back, take your pick.

What can I say? I'm just one "Providential Son of the Most High", and my Daddy is good to me.

The Great American Backyard

Nothin' like a good game of hackey in the fall, with the leaves falling all around, and the crisp chill of winter coming on. You just don't laugh at that dark-haired gentleman when he drops the ball, or he may eat your leg.

A Gateway to Camping

Behold my wife's last minute list for our camping trip this weekend. Normal food stuffs, mostly. However, the top item in the middle row looks a little suspicious to me...

I don't know how she's planning on using it, but I'm not eating any brownies just in case.

Murder Mystery???

It's a question of Whodunnit, or for that matter, whattheheckdidtheydo? I will give a brief description and a few details, and then you finish the story, with as much explanation as possible. Over the course of the next week or so, I will periodically update with more facts, until the collectively we can take a vote and decide what fate befell these poor rodents.

#1- Approximately 6 miles into our backpacking trip, my wife and I looked down to see the above picture: a pile of dead mice right in the middle of the trail. What happened to them? How did they get there?