Homebound

Driving home today was an adventure. First I saw a new sign I never noticed before. It said 'No firewood or ash tree material beyond this point. Fine $4,000'. But it just seemed like some arbitrary point on the highway. It's not like I entered into a new township or state. Anyway, I thought it was odd. I also recently got one of those GPS navigators and noticed it wanted me to go a different way than I usually take. So I did. And it took me through a small town called Wilmington. I liked Wilmington. People keep saying I want to live in some big town, but in actuality I prefer the smaller ones, where everyone knows everyone. Of course I'd like to be within an hours distance of a larger one so I can buy my happiness, but ultimately I prefer the smaller ones. In fact I'd move right now, but it wouldn't be practical. This is because I'd want a wife or at least a very steady girl friend first living in that small town. I'm not going to move into a small town otherwise because there just isn't many opportunties for meeting others. The few around are already taken. But I would move in a heart beat if I could. I'm not a terribly huge fan of where I'm currently at, I just like the job. I thought for a while that I was going to get to do this, move, keep the job, and have the girlfriend/wife. I'm still trying to figure out where that all went wrong.

Which brings us to tonight's topic which is the 4th Sorrowful Mystery, the Carrying of the Cross (see Pointy Cap). I find this one is actually pretty difficult when compared to the Cruxification. Carrying our Crosses is much harder than the Cruxifition itself. It's easy to die for a cause. We may not want to die, but it's easy to do. People do it all the time. Just look at the situation in the Middle East. All of those people are dying for a cause they believe in. What's difficult is carrying that cross day in and out. That alone can make people want to die, just to give up the burden.

But I like carrying the cross. Very few of us may know what we are supposed to be doing. It's not like many of us can say with clear assurdity that they know God's will for themselves. I for one have very little clue. I thought I knew, and I thought I was doing it, but in the blink of an eye everything changed and I was left jaw-dropped thinking 'guess not.'

But knowing what we are supposed to do is only a part of it. The other part is knowing what we are not supposed to do. I know very well what I'm not supposed to do, and yet some of those things I very much want to do (I'm single and in my 20s, take a wild guess). So in that way there is a cross to be carried. And this is the part I like. In not doing those things I shouldn't but want to do, I am doing God's will in a fashion. And in doing that, by not doing those things, even though I may be completely clueless about everything else, I can still make Jesus smile. And I like the thought of that very much.

I think I'm going to cut this one a bit short tonight. Now that I'm home, I'm supposed to go meet up with Amzlo in 15 minutes.

Oh come to think of it, I wanted to say something more about Wilmington. When I got home, I told Mom about how I went through the town and how nice it was. There were nice parks, and homes, and while the shopping was pititful it still had all the essentials. Then she said that the whole town is going under. Apparently they are largely employeed by a trucking manufacturer. That manufacturer is closing down and all those jobs are going to be lost. So sad.

Speaking of my Mom, I got my brownie points and cut the grass tonight unprompted. As I was getting ready I asked my Mom where she fell. She actually hit the electrical box way in the back of the back yard, and not the closer one that I was thinking of. She had ridden awkwardly into a gully which caused her to lose her balance. When I commented on that was a very long way to push back the lawnmower she said "I just picked myself up and got back on." "Wait, I thought you hit hard and couldn't continue." "Oh, I hit hard, but I finished. I finish what I start." That's right. My Mom is more hard core than you.

Ticklin' the Ivories

Thursdays are when I like to talk about matters of taste. However, today's intended topic is still being researched so you'll have to a wait a week. Instead today I want to talk more about music.

During the past few months I've been trying to get better at playing the blues and boogie woogie. As an idea of what I'm thinking of, two of my five random songs are blues from Dr. John. Just keep refreshing the page until they come up. Right now I find the blues hard, and boogie woogie to be impossible played fast. A part of the problem is just trying to find some sheet music to play. The local music stores and library do not have blues books and while you can find them easily enough online, I don't like buying new books without getting to see them first. Then I resorted to youtube, where there are a ton of vidoes of people playing blues and boogie and woogie, and some have tutorials. One day I came across a twelve year old who was bangin' away and joy of joys he gave the name of the book he learned from. Having heard the music and liking it I bought the book, which is printed in Germany. The language is in German, but musical tabulature is international so I can still play the songs even though I can't read anything.

When I got the book I found it to be great. It has 13 songs, and, if I could read it, a bunch of explanatory pages that give some tutorials on how to play the songs. What I find hard about this type of music are the triplets. Triplets are hard because they don't follow the beat of the rest of the song. So if you have to play some triplets in your right hand, your left hand will also be playing notes that don't fall inline with them. I just can't do it. One tutorial I read said in order to get used to playing triplets first get your left hand to the point where you can no longer think about it and then juggle two balls in your right hand. I guess it's saying that you need to have the left hand be all muscle memory so that you can entirely focus on the triplets of the right hand. Linus and Lucy actually does this (see Angelica Houston in 3D), but I can only do it because I've been playing it since elementary school. And yes, that left hand is all muscle memory. Well that's great, but I'm old now and have no patience to learn. I want to be good and I want to be good now.

Anyway, like I said, I like the book despite the triplets. As I was practicing though, I found that I didn't know a lot of the techniques. Blues and boogie woogie make use of a lot of trills and other things that I'm not too familiar with and I was having difficultly knowing if I was playing them correctly. Fortunately the book came with a CD that has the all the songs played in full. The nice thing about this is that you can play the CD and read along with the sheet music. But I found that the music is played so quick that I couldn't keep up! My brain couldn't process it all quick enough. Sort of like this crazy asian guy. Speaking of which, I'd like to see one of those 'Guitar Hero' stars try that out. Anyway, listening to this CD I had to figure out where the author was by hearing him start to play the high notes. Then I could say "oh, he must be overhere now." In fact on one of the songs, when I just sit and listen, I have a hard time believing only two hands are being used. After awhile I got better at it, but I realized I had a lot of work cut out for me.

Nevertheless, I thought it would be fun to post another video of my latest attempts at blues. It's just a small lick I found from a book that I tried to embellish with some trills and other neat sounding things. It'd be cool if I could incorporate it into a song, but it sort of just stands alone as is. Maybe it'd be good a introduction to get people's attention. Anyway, it's short but sweet and fun to play. I also decided to dress up a bit, to try and create the blusey look.

Walking Overdone

Many years ago when I was in scouts our troop used to go on a 21 mile hike. And this wasn't some prissy Illinois man made hill hike, this was through the Appalachian mountains. All right, it was more the foothills of the mountains but I was just a little tike so it's close enough. The hike was neat because during the course of it we would go through all sorts of different landscapes. Some areas were very dry, others had creeks, some were grassy fields, and others were forests, and of course there were the ups and downs of the valleys and hill tops.

The first time we went on this hike, we got a bit lost and ended up walking more like 27 miles before some guy driving by in pickup stopped and gave us all a ride back to where we started. The second time we did better at staying on the path. It's not like we purposely left the path, it was just that the map wasn't always easy to follow and sometimes the trees were not clearly marked (on long hikes some of the trees are usually painted with a colored dot to let you know which path you are on).

I remember the first time we did the hike, about an hour in we had been talking about snakes and that we should watch out for them. After the talk-and-walk the guy in the back of the line took two twigs in his hand, and jammed them in the ankle of the guy just in front of him. Gurney, if you're reading, this was none other than JAH. He did not quite see the humor of the situation, which was unfortunate because no one else could stop laughing. He jumped so far he fell down a small cliff, and yelled out "Oh S#@t!!" Which we had to rag on him for because we were still at that age where we couldn't quite get away with it yet. Hilarious.

Anyway, on those hikes we always had at least one adult leader with us. Those hikes were particularly challenging for them since all but one of them were in pitiful shape. As a result we would take lots of little 10 minute breaks, so the leaders could get their nic-fixes.

This past week I was invited on a pilgrimage and was reminded of those hikes and the adult leaders. The pilgrimage is Polish affiliated, starts in a Church in Chicago and ends up somewhere in a Church in Indiana over a two day time period. Over a thousand people go on this pilgrimage every year. A bunch of my friends are going on this and they invited me to come along. But here's the problem. It's 32 miles. Now I just wrote about how those out-of-shape fatties went on a 21 mile hike through the mountains, but hear me out.

My main problem is that in order for me to attend this pilgrimage I would likely have to be up at 1 in the morning, to meet up with my friends and then travel with them onto the Church which we have to be at between 6 and 7. Then we have Mass and after that start walking probably around 8. The walk has two breaks. One at lunch at 1, and then at the end of the first night between 6 and 8. So for me that's a bear minimum of a 17 hour day. Then we have to get up the next day and do the same thing, and then I get to drive myself home. And I think that's just too much. I remember those 21 mile hikes. They really weren't all that bad, until about the last 2 or 3 miles. That last bit was absolutely terrible and that was when I was in fantastic shape. Now I'm those old men, this pilgrimage is about 10 miles more, and we aren't getting all those lovely small breaks which really do help a lot.

Well there you have it. Maybe I'm being a little nancy boy here. In any event I can live with it, and will be praying for them as I sit on my couch with my ice-cream watching the first new episode of Monk this season.

Shag-a-delic

Growing hair can be a confrontational time. The offensive problem with hair growing is that for a while the hair gets in that awkward middle state between short and long. This is the time period where even random strangers may feel the need to express to you that its time for a cut. And unfortunately there is little to be done in terms of making it look any better.

This summer I thought it would be fun to grow it out a bit. I've never had it hang past the ears, and considering that I'm likely to end up bald, I figured now is as good a time as any to see what I'd look like with a shag. Mainly I was trying to get the beach bum look. I already have the tan, because, as dear Grandma would put it, I have jigato blood. And with the tan come the natural highlights. So all that was left was to grow out the hair and lose the ridiculous goatee. The goatee on a beach bum creates the infamous beatnik look (for you children out there who haven't been raised properly, go google image Maynard G. Krebs and if you have no idea what you're looking at go complain to your parents for doing a bad job with you).

As I got into it I found that instead of growing down, my hair curled. Not so much on top but all around the sides and back. For about two weeks I did what I could to get around them, but it was no use. The curls just would not go away. My Mom has curly hair, I think I inherited hers but I've never grown it long it enough to find out. I thought that maybe I should try that hair straightening shampoo. Once I staid over at a friend's house and got to try some of that shampoo, which I used on hair not on my head, but it didn't work so I figured it was a useless product. I then tried to explain to my friend that it was a waste of money but as usual my arguments fell on deaf ears. Anyway, I hated the curls and today I decided it was time to chop them off.

There are two things that should be done on Tuesdays, tacos and haircuts. Both are on sale if you know where to go. So deciding to go in today for a trim was fortuitous. But I still wanted my hair kept fairly long. Usually I get a 3.5 razor but today I went two sizes up with the 5.5. I thought that would be long enough, but instead I found it was taking out huge amounts of hair. Maybe it was longer than I thought it was, but I don't know the metric difference between 3.5 and 5.5. Like maybe it's only a few millimeters. In the end, while I'm having a hard time this evening getting over how short it looks now, I think it looks much better. Which is probably good because this weekend I am heading home to my family reunion. And I would not like to displease Grandma, who, bless her heart, makes me seem sensitive. The last time we met up, at the official graduation brunch for my sister, she informed my sister's graduating class that I "look like an anorexic Leslie Loham." In her disapproval, the name 'Lindsay Lohan' was a little lost on her, but we forgave her this slip as we do not correct Grandma. And that was the censored version.

Anyway, just in case you didn't think I could make a post on hair this long, I hope you'll think twice before doubting me again. I could keep going too. There was a girl at the barbershop who caught my eye. However, in the end (at Targets in the clothing department) I think she was a lesbian with a new born child. In any event, I did not eat dinner with a potential new friend tonight.

Triangles of Perfection

One of my co-workers is traveling to San Diego for a three day business trip. Upon hearing this I was reminded of what is one of the greatest pleasures of my life, La Favorita tortilla chips. Had she been around for them, Virginia Woolf would have changed her famous quote on fine dining to: One cannot think well, love well, or sleep well, if one has not eaten La Favorita tortilla chips.

Composed of three ingredients, childrens' smiles, sunshine, and mothers' love, La Favorita tortilla chips are the pinacle of human acheivement. It's Nutrition Facts put Total to shame, with a single chip boosting 100% of the daily recommended allowance of happiness, health, and childlike wonder. And an entire bag will enduce an extascy that would make the Saints envious.

I remember when I first bought a bag. I had taken it to my computer to do some work, and when I next looked up the bag was empty and my arm was sore. I had eaten so much that my arm had grown sore from the constant exertion I had put on it by lifting it up and down again for more chips.

The bag itself is like a rock muscian from the 70s, ugly, almost sloveningly so. But just as within those unslightly muscians was a genious of song, so too within the bag lies the joy of man.

But don't take my word for it:

• Eating a whole bag in a single sitting is a mouthful of bliss that, much like a good movie or wine, leaves you wanting more when it is over.
• These are the best chips ever!!! ... The only issue I have with them is that they aren't sold at Walmart, where we do most of our shopping.
• I love these chips and wouldn't buy anything else. Thank you so much, La Favorita!

Anyway back to the beginning. The reason why San Diego reminds me of these chips is because they are typically only found in the South Western section of the country.

Out with the new, in with the Old

People who attend Saturday Mass never need to look around for me. Instead they can look right at me because I always sit in the same pew in the same spot. Not this weekend though. No, instead when I got there I found a bunch of fully decked Knights of Columbus taking up a bunch of pews one of which was mine. Now typically I wouldn't let that stop me, but they have swords so I decided to let them be and sat two pews back. When they got through praying before Mass they got up and left and I thought about taking my rightful place, but then I figured that moving up only two pews would be a bit ridiculous even for me. So I stayed put. The Knights were there because of the Silver Rose. The Silver Rose is a rose made of silver that travels throughout the continent stopping at various parishes along the way until it makes it way to one of the Basilicas over in Mexico. It has to do with the roses from that apparition back in the 16th century. I'm not so good with details, it was how the title 'Mother of Guadalupe' came about. Anyway, this Silver Rose is sort of symbolic in that it recognizes that event and tries to pay some respect to it.

So there I am sitting two pews back when this girl comes in and sits right where I'm supposed to be. I think she must have sub-consciously picked up my man musk. That was two pews in front of me. One pew in front of me I noticed to the left was a guy I hadn't seen in a year or two (more on that to come, it was Big P's old senior roommate). During Mass she was actively participating which is something I like so I decided to try an introduction. After Mass ended I got ready to talk to her, and out of no where that guy I knew comes running up wanting to shake hands and get all chatty on me. I wanted to explode as I watched that girl get up and walk by as I stood there making pleasantries. But we just got through a special Mass, and I figured this must be God or Mother Mary saying leave her be. So I chatted it up with this guy for awhile and then said my goodbyes.

Now the reason I told you all that was first to say something about the Silver Rose and then to talk about Orphan which came out this weekend and I wanted to see. I was going to ask the girl if she'd like to see it with me if things worked out. But no such luck. At this point I was left to trying to find someone to go with from my friends here in town. Again no takers. And this left me with a choice, either I go by myself or not at all. Back in Denver I ran into this quite a bit. When I first got to Denver I was of the mindset that seeing a movie alone is pathetic and I would not do it. But then I started missing movie after movie that I wanted to see. I remember that one of them was "Devil Wears Prada". The trailer was hilarious, but no one would go with me. Then one day Sarge came online to chat and she said she'd love to see it with me even though she already had. But she was in Illinois and I was in Denver and it had just stopped playing at the theater like the week before. I suppose it also would have been slightly insane to drive 30 some hours (round trip) to go see a movie. But Sarge, if you're reading, thanks for the offer anyway. It was then that I decided that if I couldn't find anyone to go with to a movie I wanted to see I was going to go by myself, pathetic or not. I saw two that way. Grindhouse, and Knocked Up. Both were fantastic and I was happy I went. With this in mind I decided to go see Orphan alone.

And it was fantastic too.

Manily Aches

Being a reward zone member at Best Buy can pay off, sort of. For every fifty dollars you spend, you get a one dollar gift certificate. It's an incredibly cheap system, but they market it anyway because no one bothers to do the math and everyone likes the idea that they are earning their way to a huge free purchase. It really only pays off if you make an insane purchase like on a TV, appliance, computer, or fancy speaker system. Like I got $100 worth after buying my TV, which was great because I used that to offset the cost of a PS3. That time it actually paid off because I wanted both anyway so it was like free money. But if all you're doing is purchasing CDs the reward zone is worthless.

Yesterday I found myself there with a $20 certificate that was about to expire. Yes, these things have a shelf-life so you can't just keep saving and saving. I don't know how I managed to spend the $1000 in order to get that $20 and found it a bit troubling that over the course of time I somehow spent that much. It makes me start wondering what I am wasting all my money on there. Although sometimes my parents buy stuff and put the points on my name so maybe they contributed too. Anyhow, I had to use this thing so I was walking up and down all the aisles looking around, and I got irritated. As I was standing there considering what to get, people kept walking in front of me to pass by. But not one of them said "excuse me." That sort of thing really gets me. Whenever I walk in front of someone like at a grocery store or something, I always, always, say "excuse me." It's just common courtesy. After awhile I wanted to start tripping these people. But I thought that would make Jesus cry, so I just bottled it up and let the mouth-breathers have their peace.

In the end, maybe partially due to my mood, I decided to get 300. Not because I'm particularly fond of the movie, but mostly because it was already on sale and I figured it's a good guy movie to have. Of course no one, guys or girls come to visit, so they'll never get to see it, but at least I have it in case God smiles on me someday and grants me a little company.

If you haven't seen 300 all of the guys in it look like Michelangelo's David over in Florence. And after watching it, it's sort of like those Rocky training scenes, it makes you want to get ripped. Well I have been exercising these past few months in order to try and fill out a little boy's shirt. I find that having my shirts simply hang on me is not very appealing to the ladies. Unfortunately, the 'I'm dying of stomach cancer' look is not in this season.

So far I've only been concentrating on the stomach on up. Everything from hips down is lovely. Hips up is pitiful. But today at work I learned that my lower half may not be quite so strong as I first thought. While thinking over whether or not we should be including Green's Function in our propagation algorithms, I was sort of absent mindedly fiddling around. Like how some people might pace back and forth, or tap their fingers to some beat. What I was doing was I had my right leg on the ground and my left leg bent at the knee propped up on my chair. So I was in a half standing position. And my chair is on wheels, so I was pushing myself around with my right leg. Then at one point I pushed myself out a little bit, doing a small split, and I tried to bring my legs back to together by rolling the chair back towards me. However this is easier said than done due to the friction and where the pressure on the chair is being applied. I don't know what you call them, but I thought I tore my bing-bong muscles. Concentrating on work became difficult for the next several minutes.

Prickly Caps

Today's Friday which means it's time for the third installment on the Sorrowful Mysteries. Up today is the Crowning with Thorns. I find this one gives insights on how we should be treating each other. Jesus loved everyone a lot. And yet despite that He was killed. Even though He loved everyone so much, a lot of people couldn't understand it or didn't want to accept it. Instead they mis-interpreted Him, ridiculed Him for it, and then mocked Him by giving Him that crown of thorns. This happens to us too, just not quite so extremely.

One way is when we have to tell others they are in the wrong. A good example is when a friend is going out and doing drugs. As their friend, it's our obligation to try and stop them. It is not possible to properly love somebody and yet step aside and let them continue to hurt themselves no matter what the situation. This goes with strangers too, who we are also called to love, but I'll go easy for now and stick with the friend example. The problem is that there are times when we won't confront our friends. Maybe it's because we don't want to look uncool, or we think we are going to lose or hurt our friend. In this sorrowful mystery we clearly see that Jesus did not care. Our desires for companionship and acceptance must not be allowed to inappropriately effect our actions. Of course we need to confront one another with care and delicacy but ultimately we need to approach one another including complete strangers. So often I hear people tell me to stay out of it, it's not my problem or my place to speak up. This is simply not true. If we have true Christian love then we are called to speak up and act out whenever a wrong is taking place.

The second way is when we worry about how our good actions will be interpreted. One example of this may be not entertaining others with a particular talent we have because we don't want to make a spectacle of ourselves or are worried that people might think we are trying to show off. For example, I'll pick the piano since I and my sister both play it. Having taken many more years of lessons than my sister, I am better at it than her. She is quite good but just from sheer practice I am the better player. So at a family gathering, I may have a desire to not play my best pieces in order to not embarrass her or make her out to seem less. I think in these cases our hearts are in the right place. We are concerned for the dignity of the other. But if her embarrassment is due to her being jealous of my skills or people think less of her because of my better playing, those are sins that I should not be held responsible for. The good that can come from my actions should not be prevented out of worry on how others will interpret it. Again Jesus was not concerned with how others perceived His good works.

Another example is how people will perceive our motivations. Going back to the piano example, some may think that by playing my best pieces I am just trying to show off. When in actuality I may just be wanting to entertain my friends and family as best I possibly can. Another type of example is with our relationships. Sometimes we may want to hang out with a friend but may be hesitant to do so because we worry about what others will think of our motivations. Some people may think we are just talking to or doing things with that person because we are really trying to get closer to someone else. Or maybe even that person. And so friendships can suffer because of it. This one hits home on several occasions in my life. Let's face it, a lot of times we do try to hang out with others in order to get closer to someone who also hangs out in that group. But just because that can happen doesn't mean we should just let our good relationships fall apart. Jesus hung out with a sinners and prostitutes and people didn't like it and questioned what He was up to. Alright, most of us don't have intentions quite so sweet as Jesus, but still if we are going to not let ourselves perform good works simply because we are worried what others will think of it then we will never do anything worth while.

And that's the third sorrowful mystery. Next week we have the Carrying of the Cross. Tomorrow, bright and early, there will be a much lighter post involving bing-bongs. And to leave my Catholic friends with some humor, today at morning Mass a bit of the Eucharist got stuck in the crown of own of my teeth and it reminded me of a reflection I read from this person who loved it when the host got stuck to the roof of her mouth, because she wanted to savor her Savior.

E-mail Fail

Earlier tonight I had a lovlay new post all typed up and ready to go that I was working on at work. I went back in at 9, and at 9:30 I had some time to kill as I was waiting for a co-worker to come in shortly after 10. So I used the time to write it up, and I e-mailed it to one of my addresses so I could post it here at home. But when I got back home and checked my e-mail it wasn't there. So the post I had intended to give you won't be up. And since Friday is already taken, I'll have to push it back until Saturday or maybe Sunday.

But so you don't feel completely put out, I'll leave you with a good hypothetical question to ponder. If a man driving his car hits a woman pedestrian whose fault is it? Well, I suppose it depends. Why was the man driving his car in a kitchen?

Host of Tunes

Today's post is another tutorial (see A Glass of Water). It is not easy posting music on the net that people can get to without downloading the file. There are a ton of sites that let you upload whatever, but most of them require the user to actually download the file in order to access it. You can't just type in a web address, like http://www.something.com/groovy.mp3, and view the file.

You'll notice that there is now background music playing on this site (scroll to the bottom to see it). But this blogger does not allow file storage so in order to play music you have to have a link to another site that hosts the mp3 file. And as I mentioned, these types of sites aren't easy to come by. So this is what I did. Tripod offers free web-site hosting, and you can get access to mp3 files. The sites can only hold 20 Mb but it's enough to do a little bit with. The main problem with Tripod is that the site does not allow the same e-mail address to be used more than once when registering a site. So it's not like you can just create 10 sites, for 200 Mb worth of storage and have it all go to the same e-mail address. Or so I thought. What you can do is register for some random e-mail address like sogihka@yahoo.com. Tripod will send you an activation e-mail that you have to be able to open, so if the e-mail is fake you obviously can't click the activation. If you log in anyway into your new Tripod account it will ask you to click that activation link in order to get started on your webpage. However, it also brings up an option to change the e-mail address. From here you can type a real e-mail address and tripod will automatically send an e-mail to that address regardless of whether or not you've used it before. This is incredible.

If you do not like having background music let me know, I'll make it so it doesn't start playing automatically. If you do not like the music do not let me know for you have no taste.

6th Time Almost a Charm

Mr. Potter's 6th entry was better than the first 5 but suffered from a less than stellar ending. I almost wish they would have tacked on another 30 minutes to do it right even though it would have hit the 3 hour mark to do so. However, since the 7th will be comprised of two parts, maybe a little bit of what was left out can be included. I saw it in Indi with Orca. When we got there we went to the store where I got her that COR soap about a month ago. When I walked in the girl working asked right away if the soap was any good. First I could hardly believe she remembered me, let alone what I bought. Then I had to scream at her because I hadn't yet given my sister the soap, and she was going to ruin the surprise. Only my Mom's tried it, and yes she does like it very much. According to her it's the only soap she has ever used that does not leave a 'feeling' on her face. Instead she says her face feels very soft and completely clean. She has not yet noticed any major differences in her appearance. When we left, Orca said all the help was checking me out. I don't know about that, I think they just want another sale, but I'll take it.

Then we went to the movie. We noticed those two lovebirds. One was white and the other was black. The white one died and the black one lived. We think that was foreshadowing to Dumbledore's death. Apparently this was a movie with layers. Very deep stuff.

After the movie we hit a Famous Dave's. For those of you in the know, yes I went to Famous Dave's. While I won't go to Bob Evans some things are just too good to pass up. We had this waitress, who was a BBW and very friendly. Especially to my sister. I thought she was just being very friendly and out-going, they tend to be you know that's why I like them. But Orca wasn't too sure. In the end we decided that she was just way too friendly and as a result she needed a great tip.

On the way home a lot of fantastic songs were playing that required me to sing along. Then I remembered I had my camera with me, so I recorded myself for the chorus of "Apologize". Being tone death is a remarkable thing (see Melodious Fail). In your head you sound so good and pitch perfect. When I got home and reviewed the recordings I found this not to be the case. Terrible, just terrible. Which is what I found so remarkable. It's like something you see that's so horrible you can't bear to look at it but you keep taking peeks to see if it's any better. I sort of talked about this before in Enthused, but it applies here too. I'm just so amazed at how magnificently off I am on record, yet sound so right in my head. So I can't help recording myself seeing if somehow I didn't hear it right the first time. Nope, still terrible.

Like a Red-Headed Step Child

If you recall (see Petunia if you don't), today's subject is the 2nd sorrowful mystery which is the Scourging at the Pillar. I think nowadays we're completely indifferent to it. Most of us saw 'The Passion', if you didn't see it (or even if you did) go watch this illustrative 4 minute clip. You just watched the movie. One of my Professors, one of the main authors at cosmos-liturgy-sex, said that the problem with this movie is that it wasn't nearly violent enough. And I couldn't agree more. Let's face it, the saddest part of the movie were those flashback clips. But nevertheless it still got the R rating. As Professor put it, the movie tried to show us the horror of sin which is something we can't bear to look at. As bad as we may be, looking evil full in the face is too much. Yet it wasn't enough, because according to him had that movie done what it was supposed to do, it should have been enough petrifying to transform our lives. We should have watched that and said "Never again." Personally I think part of the problem is that what we do to Jesus today is far more brutal than Motaro's fatality.

See back then those people killed Jesus because they were idiots. They simply had no clue that He really was what He said He was. He scared them, said insane things, and was causing huge changes to millenium old customs and traditions. It was simply too much to take. Jesus Himself asked for their forgiveness because they didn't know what they were doing. So what's our excuse?

We always talk about how much we love God, and how He's our best friend, and all this sort of thing, yet we just continue day in and out to smack Him in the face. The problem is that we really just don't love Him. Half the time we can't even leave Church, with Him physically in us, without doing or saying something bad. We say we're so thankful for what He's given us and then we go and squander it all. And we really don't care. It's not like we aren't aware that we're doing something we shouldn't. No, we know exactly what we're doing, but we make excuses to trick ourselves into thinking it's either not that bad because we could be doing something worse, or it's really alright to begin with. So we just smack him around day in and out, knowing full well what He is and did for us, and somehow all the while profess our great love for Him.

Almost exactly 7 months ago, I experienced what 'The Passion' was trying to do. I had gone to see a movie with one of my dear friends, and during the trip I did something incredibly stupid and ended up hurting my friend. Now at the time I had no idea that my actions were hurting my friend. I really was totally clueless. I have no idea what I was thinking at the time, but when my friend all of a sudden started yelling at me, that was the worst moment of my life. Even though I had no intention of hurting my friend, knowing that I did hurt so much. I felt so bad. I apologized again and again, and all the night and the next day I couldn't think of anything else. I was a wreck. Of course my friend forgave me in full, but even now I still feel really bad about it. What I did, my friend said really wasn't all that bad but it didn't matter. The idea that I hurt my friend, even unintentionally, caused me a huge amount of sorrow. That was a situation I left saying "Never again."

But we do the same type of thing to Jesus everyday without batting an eye. The reason is because we just don't love Him all that much. Say a red-headed step child has a super hot Mom. Well I want to marry the Mom but the kid is just baggage. Oh sure, I'll profess my love for the kid to score the Mom, but in actuality I just beat the kid senseless cause he's an ugly ginger. I don't want to feed him or take care of him, I just want the hot babe he brings with him. Jesus is our red-headed step child. We want everything He offers and want Him to take a hike. Take my story, if I loved Jesus half as much as I do my friend there's no way imaginable that I would keep falling again and again from the same thing over and over. I think instead of spending so much time focusing on how they beat Him, we should focus more time on how much we do.

Well that's the Scourging at the Pillar. Tune in next week for the Crowning of with Thorns. And don't worry, there'll be something much lighter for tomorrow.

Lawnmower Woman

Today was a pretty good and productive day for me. I re-couped $345 on the stock market, did some dusting, finished up one of the piano songs I had been working on, took my recycling to the center, cleaned my tire rims, and put in a good 15 minutes of real work today at the office.

Today was not so good a day for my Mom, and her plight has caused what was going to be today's post to be pushed back until tomorrow or maybe Sunday. This morning Dad had to go to Atlanta and isn't getting back until later tonight. And this Friday they are driving on up to Quebec. So to help out a bit, Mom decided to cut the grass. Typically Dad does it, but if it were to rain tomorrow then they wouldn't be able to cut it and they're going to be gone for a week or so. Now about two years ago my parents admitted that they are old and bought a used riding mower. They both still use the push one from time to time but today was not one of those times.

This evening I called up Mom to tell her about what was going to be the subject of today's post, but didn't get an answer. So I caved in and called Dad. Dad is always the last resort because Mom wears the pants, not him. He was at the airport in Atlanta, and after a few minutes of the chit-chat I complained how I actually wanted Mom but she didn't pick up. And he said she may have been in the shower getting ready for the night. I figured this was plausible as she does like to get her PJs at very early hours of the day, and decided to treat Dad to telling him first about what was going to be the subject of today's post.

After getting off the phone with him, I figured it had been long enough and tried Mom again but still no answer. Then I got stubborn and decided that if she wasn't going to pick up then I wasn't going to keep calling her. She was just going to have to miss out on what I had to tell her. About an hour later Dad calls up saying Mom just hung up the phone on him. He said she did because he was laughing at her because she got thrown from the riding lawnmower into the electrical box. This would explain why she hadn't picked up, she wasn't in the shower, she was tangled in the electrical box.

But I was conflicted. I didn't want to call Mom because I was still upset she hadn't called me back, but at the same time I knew that by calling I could use this opportunity to console her and work my way into a bigger piece of her will. In the end I died a little bit inside and called her up.

She sounded a bit rough, and explained that as she was cutting the grass somehow she lost control of the mower and couldn't stop it. It then hit the electrical box and tossed her off the side and into the box as well (we have one of those big ones that serves 3 or 4 houses). She also told me that in the process she lost one of her shoes. Then after she picked herself up, she had to push that riding lawnmower back into the shed. And while she got pretty well banged up she was fine, but her legs were hurting.

I pointed out that she is going to be the definition of black and blue tomorrow. You would not believe how easily my Mom bruises. Tap her arm and it'll look like she has gangrene in an hour. To this she responded, "I know, and I just had my legs looking all good for Canada."

Pie not for Dessert

Bob Evans excels at three things, chicken noodle soup, chocolate milk, and chicken pot pie which happens to be the subject of today's discussion. The only problem I have with any of these is that I cannot have them, because I do not eat at Bob Evans. But lately I had a huge hankering for chicken pot pie. Today it was distracting me at work. And now I had a dilemma. I couldn't go to Cracker Barrel because I don't think they're going to be homemade (not that Bob Evan's is either but this is my post so don't argue), and I don't want to pay a huge sum for something that they simply heated up in the microwave. But at the same time I haven't yet been to the Cracker Barrel here in town, so I have no idea what sort of prospects I could be missing out on. Then I debated with a co-worker about whether or not I should just go to gift store and scope out the waitress situation from afar. The problem with this is that I would still have to eat out by myself, which I do not do either, and I can't take another guy to Cracker Barrel (or Bob Evans for that matter supposing I did eat there) until I hit 60.

With restaurants out of the question, now I was left to making something at home. I thought about buying a chicken pot pie pre-made figuring it's exactly the same as what I'd get if I ate out. But if I did that I would hardly have anything to write about. Thus, in order to keep you entertained I decided to make my own chicken pot pie from scratch. You better appreciate this.

When I say from scratch, this does not mean I made the pie crust. I'm sick of people saying 'well then you didn't make it from scratch'. I'm sorry, I have a life. I haven't worked on 'Punch Out' in about two days, I've got to keep you people happy here on this blog, my piano needs playing, and at some point I should probably look at jobs since I'd like to ensure that I will able to continue feeding myself. So for all you nay-sayers, you need to step off.

Overall I found the process fairly straight forward. My big problem was that I had the TV on while doing this, and I do not multi-task. Multi-tasking for me is talking on the phone whilst sitting on the toilet (I do a lot of talking apparently in the bathroom, see Howdy). That's about the extent of my abilities. Consequently, I had a few disasters. First I cooked the chicken, potatos, and carrots for a bit too long on stove. Instead of ending up with a nice chicken broth, I wound up with no broth, and a brown pan bottom. Luckily I was able to keep the main part of the food from burning so no major diaster there. The other problem was that I didn't have a science down yet for how to handle the pie top. At the store I decided since these shells come in two, I could use one of them as my pie top since I was making only enough to fill one shell. That's me thinking outside the box again, I'm so clever. Anyway, I had it sitting out getting soft as I was preparing everything. But I wasn't sure of how thick it was, and I found when I tried to transport my extra shell was a bit thin and it easily tore. Fortunately, years of picking up finished jig-saw puzzles without using glue had trained me well for this, and in the end I didn't make too huge a mess of it.

When the whole thing finished, it came out pretty good. Everything was cooked right. For example the potatoes were not hard. I hate having hard food and mushy food mixed together. It messes with my mouth. It's like peanuts in ice-cream. You have this delightful smooth ice-cream then all of a sudden bam! this nut comes out of nowhere and slams into your gums causing nothing but pain and misery. My main problem with the whole dish was that it tasted a bit bland. The spices just weren't right. I think a part of the problem may have been that I didn't end up with any chicken broth. Next time, instead of adding salt I think I'll just add one of those little Boullion cubes or whatever their called. But I'm still very pleased with the whole dish. I didn't burn it and while it may be a bit bland at least it doesn't taste bad. Nevertheless, I still have a long long way to go before I reach Mom status.

Finally a shout out goes to Gurney, whose frozen peas did not go to waste today.

Goopy Drip Prevention

Brilliant ideas are had everyday. But when they're thought of by sensational people they tend to be a little more revolutionary. Well today I had a brilliant idea, and given that I am sensational you can be assured that this idea was particularly luminous.

Earlier this evening I went "where all the lights are bright" and in preparation I wanted to fix my hair. But I didn't want to take a shower. My hair got messed up a bit after work, and I just needed to get it wet again so I could jazz it up a bit. Usually I just throw my head under the faucet, but I didn't want to do that today because I already had my goopy stuff in it and it wasn't going to come out properly if all I did was just get my hair damp. Instead, my hair would start dripping and as I ran for the towel to dry it off I would get goopy-mixed drips on my floor. And trying to wash it out properly under the faucet would just get water all over the place as my hands interfere with the faucet head. Like what happens when you put your finger over the end of a hose.

But then I had my brilliant idea. I could use the faucet in the shower! No one ever said we could only use our showers just for showers. No! We can take baths, or, as I've just discovered, we can wash out our hair. I'm so smart, this is why I make such a great engineer. It's because I can think outside the box.

Pepperoni Face

This summer I've started using a lot more sunscreen than usual. I don't burn very much and in the past I hardly ever used it. Typically my shoulders and nose will peel but that's about it. But I'm using it more because last summer I had a bit of a scare.

I'm probably going to get cancer. Everyone in my family seems to get it. Both my grandfathers had it, my grandmother had it when she died (not entirely sure it was the cancer), and my Mom's had it twice. About the best I can hope for is that my sister gets it instead of me. The inside stuff I don't have much control over, but I do tend to look around for any signs of skin cancer during the summer months since I do stay outside so much and don't bother with the sunscreen.

Like this summer, last summer I spent a good amount of time at the club house hanging out by the pool, and one day I noticed a lump on my neck. It had come out of no where and at first I figured I got bit by a spider or something. I remember that once in the past I got bit by something on the back of my right hand and it got really swollen and itched. But I hadn't felt the bite. So I thought that maybe something similar happened on my neck. I didn't think it was cancerous because there was no color change of any kind. I've read that typically moles or other weird things like them change color. The only difference between my neck and hand was that there was no itch. Being a man I decided to let it go. Two weeks later it was still there, same size, no pain, no itch, no change.

At this point I decided to see the doctor. It didn't seem like a bug bite because there was no itch. It didn't seem like a pimple because there was no pain (I find pimples have a slight bit of pain to them if you poke at them). I thought it might be tumorous, and since I pay hand-and-foot for insurance I decided it was about time to cash in.

I don't get sick. The last time I was in an actual hospital for myself was sometime in elementary school when I needed 18 stitches after a game of tag. That's right, tag, prissies go home. Anyway, I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't even know who to call. I ended up going to the hospital and walked around aimlessly until I found someone who could help me. Eventually I made the appointment and got to see the doctor.

The doctor was a nice Indian lady who did a barrage of tests on me. She checked my weight, and blood pressure, and looked at my eyes and ears. My weight was spot on text book perfect. So too was my blood pressure. I asked her what my blood pressure was supposed to be and she said these numbers on the display are what it should be. So basically, I am health. My eyes checked out, but my ears didn't. But we'll get to those. Finally she took a look at my neck. She asked some questions while poking at it. I remember she asked if I smoke and I said no. Then she asked if I drank and I said no. Then she asked again if I drank and again I said no. I found that a bit interesting. The reason she asked twice was because she thought I was going to say yes. But if she didn't think I was lying about the smoking then I don't see why she would have thought I was lying about the drinking. Or if she automatically assumed I drank then I don't see why she asked me in the first place. Anyway, there she is poking at it and asking me these questions when she said "It's a pimple". And I said no way. It's way to big and misshapen to be a pimple. She just repeated it's a pimple. Again I said not a chance, there isn't even any color change. It's not like it was a white or black head. It was just this massive growth, like someone cut a ping pong ball in half and stuck it on my neck. Then she said hold on a sec this is going to hurt, and she took two fingers and squeezed that growth until stuff came out. Not puss my mind you, just body juices. Then she showed her hand to me and said 'see' as though she just proved it to me. I calmly explained that was brain fluid dripping from her fingers but she said no it's a pimple. So in the end I guess I was happy I didn't have to spend a fortune on a painful biopsy, but it was still a bit embarrassing. Then she brought up my ears.

Apparently they were clogged up and needed cleaning. I thought I was going to die. That was really embarrassing to me, like I'm unclean or something. When you're as shallow as me these things are important. I asked her did I have to do it, and she just laughed and said of course, it takes a second, and I can't do it myself at home. So I said alright and she said just to wait for the nurse. Well that was terrible. It's bad enough one person has to know about it (nevermind this blog) but now we have to bring a nurse in on it. As if things couldn't get any worse, she had to be mildly attractive and young. Right away I told her how awkward this was for me, and she said she does it all the time for people. I said I bet you do, for eighty year olds. Sadly she agreed with me. So she does it and since it's my first time I ask her to show me the results. If you've never had it done, they squirt a huge load of water and rubbing alcohol into your ear and it shoves out the gook into a little bowl. The gook is actually a big black wad. Really big. Like, how did that fit in my head big. After it was over I went back to work and died at my desk. And as for that 'pimple' it staid around for about another month or two before it finally went away by itself.

This summer I'm using more sunscreen.

Petunia in the Onion Patch

Since it's Friday I thought about doing a reflection on the Sorrowful Mysteries. I figured I could do one each Friday. Don't worry, I'll have a funnier post tomorrow. The first one is as good as place as any to start and is the Agony in the Garden.

This one is the most theologically difficult for me to think on because we find Jesus suffering. So often we're told that God wants what's best for us, and if we do His will we will be happy. But Jesus conformed His human nature completely to His divine nature, and yet He suffered. Theologically speaking several interesting questions can arise from this. The first that springs to my mind is whether or not suffering is a product of the Fall. Jesus most certainly wouldn't have suffered in the garden if the Fall had never occurred. But there are other types of suffering. Suffering, as it's been defined to me, is the privation of being. So Jesus suffered in the garden because He was being deprived of His very life. To knowingly walk into a painful death is always going to involve suffering because human nature wants to live. But Jesus' case is rather extreme. The one I like to think on is relationships that come to an end. This can be parents sending their children off to college or even close friendships that have been separated.

There is a good in relationships. We are modeled in God's image, and God Himself is a relationship of three persons. So we are meant to be in relationships with one other. When these relationships come to an end there is a deprivation of a good. When parents send their child off to college, even though they know it's for the best and may be very happy that their child is off to fulfill whatever he was meant for in life, they can suffer. That good relationship is no longer. Yes, it's transforming into hopefully something even more beautiful but that doesn't immediately erase the pain. In time that relationship may build to something greater than it could have ever been if the child staid home but the temporary suffering is there.

Same with friends. We may have very close friends that have decided to move away to seek a better job, or be with significant others. Of course, being your friends, they don't want you to suffer, but it doesn't change the fact that the good of the friendship may be cracked or completely broken, and as a result the suffering will come.

In those cases where the relationship may be completely removed, like by a death, the only way to remove that suffering would be to replace it with a greater good. God is the answer here, when our human relationships come to and end we can still turn to our relationship with God for strength.

But it's difficult to determine how much of the suffering is genuine and how much is out of selfish desires. Take the relationships, if we have put a higher value on those relationships than is appropriate then there will be a disordered component to the suffering. I am of the opinion that without the Fall that disordered component would not exist, but that suffering could still occur. It simply doesn't change the fact that the good of those relationships is gone. The only stipulation to this is that potentially our human nature would instantaneously adjust to the transition in the relationships and the new greater good would bring about an even stronger bond than what previously existed. Like as children go off to college, mature and grow, they do become closer to their parents. And their bond becomes stronger than it did before they left. My guess is maybe that short period of suffering would not exist in an unfallen state.

But we are fallen and we do suffer, so all those intellectual daydreams don't really matter much. Basically, even if we perfectly conform ourselves to God's Will, we are still susceptible to suffering, as seen in today's Mystery.

I suppose that as such, the more practical thing to ponder is what is to be done with the suffering. As I see it there are two options, either we can wallow in it, letting it fill us with despair, or we can offer it up. We should celebrate in suffering because by offering it up we can bring about great good. For proof just look at what came about from Jesus' suffering. God the Father didn't just reward Jesus, He rewarded all of humanity with an overwhelming abundance of grace. So too does God reward us and others for our suffering. This is how our suffering can bring about God's glory. We may not see it, but that doesn't mean it isn't happening. Just as our sins can have unseen consequences so to can our victories. God doesn't want us to suffer, but He does permit it so we should make the best of it instead of wallowing in it asking why He's making us suffer. I think those questions can get us in a heap of trouble. First off, by our suffering a great deal of graces can come from it so we should be celebrating the opportunity. God rewards those faithful to Him. Secondly, if God did not allow us to suffer that could potentially start interfering with our free will. Not only that but we should not be so arrogant as to say we know better than God what's best for us. Or pretty soon we are going to say that God should respond to our will, effectively making us the god of God.

There is so much to say on Agony in the Garden but I think this is already getting too long. Tune in next Friday for the Scourging at the Pillar.

Send In the Clowns

As I get closer to getting laid off I have been doing some reading as to what one is supposed to do when it happens. I'll spare you the details, they aren't that interesting. What is interesting is the maximum payout for a single person, which is somewhere around $385 per week for 26 weeks for the state of Illinois. That amount would require a minor lifestyle change on my part. I'd definitely have to move to somewhere else in town, I'd probably cut cable, and there'd be much less going into savings. But it's certainly livable. The thing is at that price there is less motivation to find temporary work like at MikieD's. If the job won't net you that much in a week there's little reason to take the job. Anything less than $10 an hour won't do.

I'm not truly worried yet but yesterday my boss said it's okay to be so. Most likely the first course of action will be asking people to start using their vacation time. I have a month saved up so I'll probably be asked. Most fortuitously I recently got a customer needing my services for 2 weeks full time. That work started up yesterday. Unfortunately today I pretty much finished the work and tomorrow I'll most likely be done completely with it. The results the customer wanted just did not take nearly as long to acquire as expected. They wanted this long drawn out study done, but after the first batch of results came in they were such that the rest of the entire study could be solved for immediately and all that predicted future work became unnecessary.

As far as finding other jobs go today my friend called me up letting me know of a new job he just got. For about the past year he has been substitute teaching in Peoria. But being the summer time, that work has dried up and he's been looking for other things to do. Well recently he got a job as a balloon animal maker. He even has to join the Society of Clowns for insurance purposes in case a child swallows a balloon or gets latex poisoning. Right now he's in training and can make about 20 different things and can tell some jokes. Get this, the job pays $56 an hour! It's not steady, he only works about 5 to 10 hours a week, but after only 2 hours he's made more than his substitute teaching job pays all day. And it is livable. He's working under the 'master' who gets $75 an hour, and does it for a living and has been for many years now. In the meantime my friend is studying up to be an actuarist.

Only in America will you find a society that places a higher value on clowns than on teachers. And there you have it, if the times have gotten you in a rut, give the performing arts a go.

Family Visit

Impressively my parents managed to make it in this weekend. But Dad did not make his 8:04 prediction. However, this was largely in part to them deciding to go Meijer first to pick up some groceries. Otherwise they probably would have been right on time. Yes, they made the whole 2500 mile trip in three days. What's really impressive is that for the first five hours they averaged about 30 mph due to bumper-to-bumper traffic. I couldn't imagine how frustrating and tiring that would have to be. You'd have to be on constant viligance, it's not like you can just sit back and cruise.

So they get here, and I thought they would be exhausted. But I didn't know that my parents use crack. They jumped out of the car, gave my sister and I hugs, took their bags and zoomed up the 3 flights of stairs to my apartment. Then when they get in, they proceed to both clean my place which apparently was "filthy" and make dinner at the same time. The thing is I had tried to clean before they got there, but apparently what I cleaned was not on their high priority list. Oh well, Mom seemed very happy because as she put it she had been sitting around use-less for the past 3 days.

We had dinner, and watched 'Grand Torino' which my sister and Mom had not yet seen, and then got ready for bed. Dad decided to sleep on the floor instead of in my bed with Mom so that my sister and she could share it. I also slept on the floor with him in the other room. At this point it was about midnight, and Dad decided he's feeling chatty. First he wanted to talk about my 401k plan, then he was curious about the next piece of furniture I'm going to get (a bookcase) and where I plan to get it from. Then he wanted to tell me about how surprisingly nice the Meijer produce department is. At this point I told him to go to sleep, and about 30 seconds later I heard him start to snore. Sigh. It's like this all the time. They both just go until they finally drop in the middle of whatever it is there doing. And I'm left lying there in amazement.

This morning they were up at 5 (although me and sis got to sleep till 8), and before I knew it we had breakfest, opened presents, did more cleaning and they were back on the road home around 9:30. Totally insane. When I drove home from Denver, which is about half the distance they drove, I was so completely drained that I think I slept for about 13-14 hours straight. Granted I pushed myself harder than they did to make it home, but their trip was still twice as long. I expected them to be half dead. Instead they party until midnight, and 5 hours later are awake bouncing off the walls again. It truly is a sight to see.

Pack Your Bags

My parents flew off to California this morning and got the Highlander (see Al Johnson Lives On). At 5:00 this morning Dad sent me a text from Indianapolis telling me to expect him and Mom at the fireworks at 8:04 on Saturday. He's actually pretty good about these predictions. A few years back he made a prediction to the minute as to when we would arrive at Kiawah Island, South Carolina at the start of our trip back in Podunk, Ohio. So maybe he'll be able to pull this off, but it's ambitious. He's got essentially three days to get from San Francisco to me here in Illinois. Right now they are approaching Sacramento in bumper-to-bumper traffic going about 20 mph, and according to Mom they still have another 7 to 8 hours to go to meet their goal for the day. As of now they've been up since 3:00 AM Eastern time. It's currently 6:00 Central (7 Eastern). I think by the time they get in tonight they'll have been up longer today than I have been in total the past two days. But they like the car. Mom says the owner has these sheepskin covers in it that cost him $500. He said he could take them out if they didn't like them (I guess he threw them in as a gift on the price), but according to Mom it feels like she is "sitting on a teddy bear."

The other day I was talking to Gurney about adventures and how I want to have one. And we came up with the perfect plan. Times are tight, I could get laid off. It's unlikely but Gurney says not having a backup plan is bad. I tried to explain that I do have a backup plan, which is to buy a failing pet store for dirt cheap and make it into a profitable operation. I can buy the store and its rights for less than $15,000 and probably would need another $100,000 for inventory. Best of all I actually know how to sell pets. It's not that difficult. You take something adorable, and put it in the hands of a 1 year old and have them waddle on over to their parents. Oh sure the child's parents will scream at you, but unfortunately for them they can't help falling to the cuteness of the situation and you've got yourself a sale. Then you simply remind them that they'll need to get some food, a toy or two, a collar, a leash, and shampoo. 100 of those and I'm in the clear. But Gurney doesn't like that idea and says I'm pathetic. Which is true.

After much yelling back and forth we came to an amazing discovery. Companies pay for your plane ticket and hotel room when they interview you. That is the most incredible thing ever. If you want to stay in Redondo Beach, California just call up Northrop Grumman. Or maybe you want to hit the slopes in Denver, Colorado during ski season. Lockheed Martin is who you want to call. If you need transportation have them rent you a car. It's a free ride to stay in the best parts of the country. Genius.

Melodious Fail

When we were young, very young, everything was new. Like everything was so new that at one point many of us thought that our feet ought to be in our mouths. We were discovering new things about the world and ourselves every second of every day. As we got older there was less to discover. We had learned a lot about the world and while we may have explored with our bodies a bit more in the later grades of elementary school, for the most part we had a pretty solid grasp of what we were and were not capable of doing. For example, pretty early on we learned if we had any double joints. And we learned the great affinity our bubble gum has for our hair if we allow it to go there.

Well today I learned something new about myself. I thought about doing another musical number for this blog, and this time I was going to try singing and playing a song. But that is really hard for me to do so before I spent too much time on it I wanted to hear what my voice sounded like musically. So I recorded myself karaoking 'Lean On Me' off YouTube first to see what kind of singing voice I have. 'Lean On Me', before you laugh too hard at my selection, is the perfect sing-along song. It's got easy to reach notes, you get to belt it out, and everyone knows it by heart. And what I found out about myself while listening to my recording is that I am completely tone deaf. It is throw-the-people-next-to-me-off bad. The thing is it's impossible for me to tell without the recording. In my head it sounds just fine and on key. So it's not like I can correct the problem. Here's the even worse part though. When I was little, probably third or second grade maybe younger, my Mom had me take singing lessons! Gracious. This is so embarrassing cause I tend to sing very loud at Mass. Now I know why I always get my own pew.

One of the lyrics in Joe Raposo's classic Sing a Song goes 'don't worry that it's not good enough for anyone else to hear.' But despite his good intentions he may have changed that tune if he had heard me before singing that. No, out of love for my neighbor, I should worry.