There are lots of "Thou shall nots" in the Bible. Ten I know of right off the top of my head...."Thou shall not murder, Thou shall not steal, Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife"....that last one isn't a problem at all in this neighborhood. No where in the Bible does it say "Thou shall not kick the kitchen cabinet barefooted"....but it should.
In my ongoing effort to eat more healthy food I may have broken my toe this morning. Those stupid round oatmeal boxes are HARD to open for the first time. I pulled on that plastic lid for all I was worth this morning. It finally came off with a pop. Oatmeal went everywhere. My first thought led to my hurting toe of course. My second thought was "better on the floor than in my mouth". I'm going to stop off at McDonald's for a breakfast burrito.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Elm Street
We were so cotton-picking rich growing up we felt sorry for most of our friends. Our house had real brick on the front of it and it was the biggest house we could ever imagine. It had to be at least 900 square feet. It was huge I’m telling you! Friends and neighbors described our house as the one on the street with the trees. My dad loved planting trees. Every time he saw a sale on trees another one was planted in our front yard. Of course no two trees were alike. That would have been boring. Mowing the lawn in our yard was a unique experience. We felt sorry for the poor neighbors around us who walked back and forth with their mowers cutting grass in the hot sun. We never went more than a few feet in a line before getting to go around a tree. The yard was always shady. We were so darn rich.
My dad worked three jobs to make sure we had everything we needed growing up. He was an electrician at the defense plant. He also sacked groceries at the Worth Food Store and cleaned floors and toilets at the Glenview Community Hospital. We felt sorry for our friends whose dads only had one job. We couldn’t figure out how grown men could be so lazy to quit working at 5 in the afternoon. If my dad got home before 10 at night we worried that he wasn’t feeling well.
One day in June, I believe it was in 1956, my dad came home with the station wagon loaded down with something. We knew it was Glenn’s birthday so we figured, “hey, the favorite son is getting a real treat this year!” As it turned out dad had been shopping for Glenn’s birthday but the White’s Auto Store wouldn’t let him charge a toy wheelbarrow and shovel so he went ahead and charged new bicycles for Cindy and me. That way the wheelbarrow and shovel would be a high enough amount to warrant setting up an account. That was one of our favorite birthdays!
My dad worked three jobs to make sure we had everything we needed growing up. He was an electrician at the defense plant. He also sacked groceries at the Worth Food Store and cleaned floors and toilets at the Glenview Community Hospital. We felt sorry for our friends whose dads only had one job. We couldn’t figure out how grown men could be so lazy to quit working at 5 in the afternoon. If my dad got home before 10 at night we worried that he wasn’t feeling well.
One day in June, I believe it was in 1956, my dad came home with the station wagon loaded down with something. We knew it was Glenn’s birthday so we figured, “hey, the favorite son is getting a real treat this year!” As it turned out dad had been shopping for Glenn’s birthday but the White’s Auto Store wouldn’t let him charge a toy wheelbarrow and shovel so he went ahead and charged new bicycles for Cindy and me. That way the wheelbarrow and shovel would be a high enough amount to warrant setting up an account. That was one of our favorite birthdays!
Monday, April 26, 2010
Lessons from a Frog
I had to share my Uncle Frog with several ornery cousins. They all seemed to think he was their uncle too. Fortunately for Glenn and me, Frog preferred living at our house over anyone else’s and many good memories exist because of his good taste in accommodations.
One of the cousins who tried to horn in on my time with Uncle Frog was Mike. Mike and I are the same age within three days. I’m the older of course so much more experienced in the ways of the world.
The second time Frog lived with us we were living on Sam Calloway Rd. in Fort Worth. One of the things I remember most about living in this house is Frog teaching Mike and me to smoke. We were appreciative of this opportunity because neither of our dads thought we were old enough. We were four and time was wasting. I still remember that day as if it were yesterday. Frog was sitting on the couch enjoying a good cigarette break. Mike and I wandered in from fighting Indians and bad guys and climbed up on the couch on either side of him. Purely out of a sense of discovery we asked Frog what cigarettes tasted like. He said he couldn’t explain it. We would just have to find out for ourselves. I thought that would be the end of it because I knew Frog to be very attached to his cigarettes. Mike had a more inquisitive nature and continued to pester him for a valid answer. It never took much to wear Frog down. In about three minutes he produced a cigarette out of his pack for each of us and kindly lit them up before handing them over. The three of us had barely settled in for a good smoke when Frog’s older sister, my momma, walked into the room. You would have thought we were doing something dangerous the way she reacted. I don’t know if my Aunt Ramona ever knew that Mike got a spanking from my momma. I do know both of us got a severe beating and Frog would have got one too had he not been just a shade faster than momma getting to the front door.
Mike and I gave up smoking after that. We saw no sense in getting beat for doing something that made us want to throw up.
One of the cousins who tried to horn in on my time with Uncle Frog was Mike. Mike and I are the same age within three days. I’m the older of course so much more experienced in the ways of the world.
The second time Frog lived with us we were living on Sam Calloway Rd. in Fort Worth. One of the things I remember most about living in this house is Frog teaching Mike and me to smoke. We were appreciative of this opportunity because neither of our dads thought we were old enough. We were four and time was wasting. I still remember that day as if it were yesterday. Frog was sitting on the couch enjoying a good cigarette break. Mike and I wandered in from fighting Indians and bad guys and climbed up on the couch on either side of him. Purely out of a sense of discovery we asked Frog what cigarettes tasted like. He said he couldn’t explain it. We would just have to find out for ourselves. I thought that would be the end of it because I knew Frog to be very attached to his cigarettes. Mike had a more inquisitive nature and continued to pester him for a valid answer. It never took much to wear Frog down. In about three minutes he produced a cigarette out of his pack for each of us and kindly lit them up before handing them over. The three of us had barely settled in for a good smoke when Frog’s older sister, my momma, walked into the room. You would have thought we were doing something dangerous the way she reacted. I don’t know if my Aunt Ramona ever knew that Mike got a spanking from my momma. I do know both of us got a severe beating and Frog would have got one too had he not been just a shade faster than momma getting to the front door.
Mike and I gave up smoking after that. We saw no sense in getting beat for doing something that made us want to throw up.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Smokin'
An old friend of mine recently returned from a mission trip to Honduras. As is typical for missionaries he stocked up on his favorite tobacco products while there.....I'm just kidding!!! He brought me one cigar. Most people don't know that nations other than Cuba produce very fine cigars. My favorites come from Honduras and Nicaragua. And even though I may sound like a real tobacco connoisseur, I'm not. I had to look up connoisseur in the dictionary just to spell it....not sure I spelled Honduras and Nicaragua right either but back to the subject of tobacco.
I don't condone smoking. I think it's an expensive and dangerous weakness. However, I do occasionally enjoy a good cigar or a few drags on my pipe while sitting on my patio in the evenings. Debbie doesn't really approve but since I don't have any other vices and I'm pretty much perfect in every way, she doesn't complain...much. She thinks my pipe tobacco smells like something I pinched off the compost pile. Silly woman.
I developed my interest in smoking when I was young. I loved to watch people smoke. The little curls of smoke wafting around their heads and faces, the wonderful smell of burning tobacco, and the thought of scorching lungs was a peaceful pastime. Nobody ever said I was an interesting child. My second attempt to smoke cigarettes was during the spring of 1967. My family had gone on a weekend trip and I got to stay home by myself because of my job at Foodway grocery store. On the Friday night of that weekend I was given a package of cigarettes by the tobacco salesman who came by our store. Thoughtful guy that he was, he included a book of Winston matches with his gift. I took those cigarettes home and hid them until after work on Saturday...don't know why I felt compelled to hide them. Nobody was home. Saturday afternoon finally came and I took my cigarettes and matches out to the backyard. I did some serious smoking....one after another after another until I threw up. The butts, the matches, and the remaining cigarettes were then buried in the yard. I have never wanted to smoke another cigarette....the same can't be said for cigars and my pipe.
If you were paying attention a minute ago you noticed this was my second attempt at smoking. The first ended so abruptly I didn't get a chance to form an opinion of the practice. I'm getting sleepy though so I'll tell you about it another time.
Good night.
I don't condone smoking. I think it's an expensive and dangerous weakness. However, I do occasionally enjoy a good cigar or a few drags on my pipe while sitting on my patio in the evenings. Debbie doesn't really approve but since I don't have any other vices and I'm pretty much perfect in every way, she doesn't complain...much. She thinks my pipe tobacco smells like something I pinched off the compost pile. Silly woman.
I developed my interest in smoking when I was young. I loved to watch people smoke. The little curls of smoke wafting around their heads and faces, the wonderful smell of burning tobacco, and the thought of scorching lungs was a peaceful pastime. Nobody ever said I was an interesting child. My second attempt to smoke cigarettes was during the spring of 1967. My family had gone on a weekend trip and I got to stay home by myself because of my job at Foodway grocery store. On the Friday night of that weekend I was given a package of cigarettes by the tobacco salesman who came by our store. Thoughtful guy that he was, he included a book of Winston matches with his gift. I took those cigarettes home and hid them until after work on Saturday...don't know why I felt compelled to hide them. Nobody was home. Saturday afternoon finally came and I took my cigarettes and matches out to the backyard. I did some serious smoking....one after another after another until I threw up. The butts, the matches, and the remaining cigarettes were then buried in the yard. I have never wanted to smoke another cigarette....the same can't be said for cigars and my pipe.
If you were paying attention a minute ago you noticed this was my second attempt at smoking. The first ended so abruptly I didn't get a chance to form an opinion of the practice. I'm getting sleepy though so I'll tell you about it another time.
Good night.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Jennifer....
Jennifer thought I forgot to mention my two, yes TWO beautiful and nearly perfect daughters-in-law. No way! They were included in the "flock of kids" mentioned earlier. Jennifer manages five children. Grace, who is 8 going on 21; Nathan, 6; Sam, 3; Lily, 1; and Jamie, 37 (which is very close to 40).
Casey is a math teacher and basketball/track coach in Mesquite. She is very busy turning Cody and Andy from longtime bachelors into socially acceptable young men. She has her hands full.
There will be more about these two lovely ladies soon. I'm sure the phone will start ringing shortly to find out what I plan to write!!
It's Saturday! Turn off the computer and get outside!!
Casey is a math teacher and basketball/track coach in Mesquite. She is very busy turning Cody and Andy from longtime bachelors into socially acceptable young men. She has her hands full.
There will be more about these two lovely ladies soon. I'm sure the phone will start ringing shortly to find out what I plan to write!!
It's Saturday! Turn off the computer and get outside!!
Friday, April 23, 2010
okay, let's get started...
I may not have mentioned it yet but I am the richest guy in the world. I'm married to the girl I fell in love with 41 years ago and we have a wonderful flock of kids and grandkids to bless our old age. We're still healthy despite our total lack of concern for calories and exercise....even if we weren't all that healthy one of our boys grew up to be a medical doctor so he takes care of our health needs. Our other son grew up to be a CPA so he takes care of our vast wealth and investments...okay, I may have stretched the vast wealth and investments part but the rest is totally true. We have five perfect grandchildren and I will get around to bragging about each of them in due time. Hey, you wanna brag about your grandkids? Start your own blog...
I lost my job back in June of last year. It was a good job. I had prestige, good pay, wonderful benefits, and more pressure than should be allowed by law. Losing my job was just one more blessing in this wonderful life of mine. Now I don't drive for two hours a day in rush hour traffic. I don't stress out every time the phone rings. I wear jeans and pullover shirts all the time and I shave when I feel like it, which isn't often. I still go to work but my commute is 1.5 miles down residential streets. I'm not in charge of anything and no one expects me to have any answers to questions. What a life! If I could get Deb to stop worrying about money, or the lack of it, life would be perfect. Like I say, I'm the richest guy in the world.
I have my eye on a powder blue Vespa motorscooter for sale in Colleyville. I am giving serious consideration to buying it to ride to work. When I was a kid my parents wouldn't let me have a scooter. When I got married Debbie wouldn't let me have a motorcycle. Now my boys don't even want me riding a bicycle. If I could just make myself go on down and buy that scooter I would not only be the richest guy in the world. I would be the richest guy in the world WITH a powder blue Vespa motorscooter. AND, I would be a rebel in the eyes of my family. My leather jacket would have BORN TO BE MILD written on the back of it. Oh man, it just doesn't get any better than that.
I lost my job back in June of last year. It was a good job. I had prestige, good pay, wonderful benefits, and more pressure than should be allowed by law. Losing my job was just one more blessing in this wonderful life of mine. Now I don't drive for two hours a day in rush hour traffic. I don't stress out every time the phone rings. I wear jeans and pullover shirts all the time and I shave when I feel like it, which isn't often. I still go to work but my commute is 1.5 miles down residential streets. I'm not in charge of anything and no one expects me to have any answers to questions. What a life! If I could get Deb to stop worrying about money, or the lack of it, life would be perfect. Like I say, I'm the richest guy in the world.
I have my eye on a powder blue Vespa motorscooter for sale in Colleyville. I am giving serious consideration to buying it to ride to work. When I was a kid my parents wouldn't let me have a scooter. When I got married Debbie wouldn't let me have a motorcycle. Now my boys don't even want me riding a bicycle. If I could just make myself go on down and buy that scooter I would not only be the richest guy in the world. I would be the richest guy in the world WITH a powder blue Vespa motorscooter. AND, I would be a rebel in the eyes of my family. My leather jacket would have BORN TO BE MILD written on the back of it. Oh man, it just doesn't get any better than that.
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