Halloween was here last night in our sleepy little podunk of a town. The city coulcil decided to move the celebration from Friday (a non school night) to Thursday (a school night) because they were afraid for the kids to be out on a night when many people are out drinking.

Hello!?!?!?

Trick or Treating is from 6 til 8. Most drinking out folks don't do their drinking that early, and most of them are sober on their way to do their drinking.

Anyway, here is the Princess Cloe above and the brood below. There is Kyle (the mobster), Sierra (not sure what she was), and Chella (the stabbing victim.)

Jack-O-Pumpkin Carving

There was pumpkin carving at the hacienda tonight. Each of the kids did a pumpkin and I did a pumpkin. Tammy can't carve anymore because of her wrist injury. She is adjusting to letting me do the carving. The first shot is Fredrick. He is Kyles first attempt at pumpkin carving. Notice the large open mouth. It is reminiscent of Kyle himself, always talking.

This is the pumpkin carved by Chella and Caleb. His name is Xayven. Chella says he is sinister looking. You cant see it in this pic, but they carved "BOO !" in the back of the pumpkin. When I first saw it, I asked, "Why does your pumpkin say 'POOP'? The B looks like a P and the exclamation mark looks like a P.

This is Herman. Tammy named him. I carved him.

It was fun for all. Opening .. Scooping .. Collecting the seeds .. Carving .. Lighting .. Displaying .. and no-one had to drink vinegar. (I'll explain sometime later .. it is a weird Easter egg thing.)

someone mentioned stories ....

I was reading one of my regular reads and the author mentioned how times have changed how we tell 'stories.' Way back in the old days (you know, when I was a boy) video cameras were not as prevalent as today. Some people had them, but no where near like today when every cell phone is a camcorder and every person is a video-journalist. Way back in those days we had this archaic method of saving stories - we told them to our children. We passed history down by word of mouth.

This got me to thinking about stories I had heard and stories I knew to be true. I thought about my Granny. (Don't tell the other kids, but I was her favorite grandkid.) My Granny was an amazing woman. Here is only a small part of her amazing life:

One of my heroes

My grandmother on my dad’s side is one of my heroes. She is a truly amazing woman. She passed away in April of 2007 at the age of 92. She lived a full and colorful life. She related tales to us on several occasions as I was growing up. I will try to relate some of those as I remember them and add a few that I witnessed personally.

Husband #1
She married my papaw when she was 13 years old. He was 27 years old. He owned a farm and had a two story house on it. When they moved in, papaw told her she had no need to go upstairs. As is curiosity, it finally pushed her to venture upstairs one day while papaw was working in the fields. When he returned that afternoon, she asked him about all that stuff in one of the rooms. He beat her. She had found his still. Papaw was a moonshiner. Her brothers were going to kill him, but she convinced them not too. She told them that she would just leave him. She was 14 and pregnant. She gave birth to dad when she was 15 years old.

Husband #2
After papaw she married a guy whose name none of us seem to remember. He was inconsequential as he was unfaithful within six week and the marriage was ended.

Husband #3
Then came June Griffeth. He was the papaw I remember best. I remember granny telling the story of June coming to meet her parents for supper. She and her three sisters were at the table with her parents and June. One by one the sisters excused themselves from the table. What June and the parents didn’t know was the reason. They were fist fighting with the neighbors. They were actually in the middle of a highway with traffic stopped both directions and they ‘duked’ it out. In spite of this, she and June married. He died when she was 70. I remember his as a good man. They were married 40 years.

Husband #4
When granny was 72, she told us grandkids that she had to get remarried. When we asked her why, she told us that she “was horny.” She had to get married as she didn’t accept sex outside marriage. She married Henderson. He was a great guy for her. He worshipped her. He put her on a pedestal. She was like a kid with him. He passed away when she was 80.

Husband #5
She called me when she was 82 years old. Dad had forewarned me of her impending call. I asked her what she wanted. She told me she wanted me to marry her. I told her, “Granny, there are laws against the in this state, but if we go to West Virginia, I think we can do it.” “No no no ,” she said, “I want you to perform the ceremony.” Of course, I agreed. I skipped my 20th year high school reunion and married my grandmother to Homer.

Now, Homer had some issues. He was jealous of her dead husbands. I am quite sure none of them were coming back to steal her. He also had another issue that caused problem. Homer had a erectile problem. At 82, Granny was still about some sex. Homer got that problem fixed. Homer died a couple years later. I think she might have been just wearing these poor fellows out.

Husband #6
Before she met James, she was seeing a guy that was younger than dad. I remember that conversation at Christmas time. That didn’t work out and she met and married James. James was a good man. Granny was like a young girl. She got excited about simple things. She loved to pop bubble wrap. She loved good conversation. She loved my wife. She said, after meeting Tammy for the first time that I “had picked a pretty one.”

Granny was infamous for her “prettiest one yet” line. Every great grandchild born was the prettiest one yet. She had a stroke about a year before she passed. She had some troubles after that with clarity. She was clear most of the time, but could be muddled in the mornings.

When Dad had surgery and the subsequent events that lead to his death, she didn’t know. She had a stroke just about that same time. Her veins collapsed so she was not able to be fed intravenously. With no food and only as much water as would be expressed in wetting her lips, she held on for over a month. When we visited her, she would squeeze our hands. She couldn’t speak, but she would make her desire known. She pulled my hand close. My voice and dad’s voice are very similar. I think she thought I was him. I let her know it was ok to go.

Four weeks to the day after Dad passed, she joined him.

couldnt sleep

It wasn't happening last night, so I got out of bed to write. Here is what spilled out:

My little bottles

Every day your love fills my life
Then there are days when it is spilling over
For those days I have my little bottle
In it I can capture that overflowing
Put the cap on tight and set it aside
With its hand scribbled label, “Love”

There are day when joy takes the stage
And spills a drop or three over the edge
For those days I have my little bottle
Just ready to lock away those precious drops
Beneath the cap turned tight and set aside
With its hand scribbled label, “Joy”

There are days when serenity reigns
And peace splashes against the sides
For those days I have my little bottle
Ready to grab the generous splash
Then locked away tight and set aside
With its hand scribbled label, “Peace”

It happens that
There are dozens of such bottles
Stored in a secret box
Locked up tight and hidden away
Guarded more closely
Than all else I have

A stranger may come upon
A bottle with label well worn
And find the cap pressed down tight
If the stranger may hold the strength
To force the cap from it protective place
Inside will be found

Nothing

My little bottles are filled with memory
Of days, some recent, some long past
Waiting to be needed on a dark day
When love is not so generously applied
When joy is not the feeling spied
When peace can’t find a place to reside

When I open the bottle
And release the prize
I always find there is more inside
Than the day it was supplied
And although I empty the bottle
To fill that dark day
I find there is always something left
Saved in my little bottles
Waiting for the next sunless day

Grab a little bottle
And some nice labels
And a good writing pen
And start your own secret collection
Then on your next shadowy day
We can sit and talk
And open a bottle
And laugh

Ron Simpson, Jr.
October 27, 2008

church, a birthday thing, and a POD

here is the catch up of my day thus far.

Sunday is church day. Our Sunday service starts at 11 am and usually runs until 1 pm. The church is a 30 to 45 minute drive from home. We did our usual. We picked up the grand baby. She loves going to church with Grandma and Papaw. Today, however, after church was a surprise birthday party for the Pastor. He turned 71 today. Because of his health and energy, you would never guess him much past 60, though.

Before we left for church, my oldest daughter "A" called me about poetry. She didn't like the TS Eliot poem I found for her renewal ceremony. She had been searching online for poems and decided to check out the website of her favorite poet. (That would be me, her dear old dad.) She found one she liked but it didn't fit exactly. Tammy mentioned, loud enough to be heard, that she needed a POD. A POD, she questioned, What is a POD? POD is Poetry On Demand. Over the years, several close friends have requested poems for certain occasions. They would tell me the situation and what they wanted to say, and I would go from there. I do have a couple things in my favor. I am very empathic. I can seem to feel what those around me are feeling. It goes back to a prayer I prayed about being more compassionate. Also, I do know how to write. It isn't being conceited, it is just a fact. I call it one of my gifts from God.

"A" found a poem with a couple lines she liked and asked for her POD. The lines she liked were on a brass folding purse mirror that I had engraved as an anniversary gift when her mom and I were married. They were also in another poem I wrote years ago. I took those words and what I felt from her an composed a new poem. I called her this afternoon and she was pleased that it was done (I mean, we only have 8 months until the ceremony.)

You will see the lines she liked in the following poem:

I Knew

I knew you before I knew you

There are things we have and outgrow
There are clothes that become too small
There are toys that become too childish
For all the possessions that come and go
There are things that we keep all our lives
One of the deepest is the idea
That there is someone just to love us
It is reinforced every time
We see lovers holding hands
It grows every time
We see couples steal a kiss
From our birth we have held this knowing
There is someone out there
Someone just for me to love
And to love me in return
So you see,
I knew you
Before I knew you

I knew you, and then I loved you

When I first met you I did not know
I didn’t know if you were that one
I didn’t know where you were going to fit
I didn’t know what place you would hold
But I knew you
You were like a rose
I was captivated by your charm
I was awed by your beauty
The vibrancy of your colors
The sharpness of your thorns
Time passed
And my heart fell in love with you
I knew you
And then I loved you

I loved you, and then I knew you

As our love grew
I began to behold
As the rose opened itself
Revealing more and more
What I knew I knew more
What I loved I loved more
The love became deeper
The knowing became fuller
The more I knew The more I loved,
The more I loved The more I knew,
I loved you
And then I knew you

Before I knew you, I knew you
I knew you, and then I loved you
I loved you, and then I knew you

Ron Simpson, Jr.
October 26, 2008

Hate this view

I hate when the view of God's beauty is so cluttered by us. Yes, I realise we have to live and we have to have power, but it is so difficult to find places where power lines are not cutting the picture.

pictures from todays travel

This only about 1% of what we drive through this morning on the way to see Chris.

I took a bunch with the 35mm Canon. I will have those developed soon and scanned. I'll post them as I get them done.

sleep driving amnesia

I can't remember driving my car last night in my sleep. I must have sleep driving amnesia.

Ambien has the warning in their ads about sleep walking while not fully asleep and driving while asleep and having no memory of it. If you have any of these symptoms, notify your doctor immediately.

Brings several questions to mind:

If you are not fully asleep, how can you be sleep walking? Wouldn't that be 'nearly asleep walking'? If that is the case, I do that every night when I wake up in the middle of the night and amble my way to the bathroom to weewee. I am not fully awake, but I am not fully asleep, and I am walking. Fortunately, my nearly asleep aiming is fairly good.

Then there is the sleep driving and having no memory of it. Do you remember driving last night while you were sleeping ? TJ says she cant drive in her sleep because she cant find her keys when she is awake, let alone when she is sleeping. If you wake up in the morning and there is an empty slurpee cup on the night stand, you may be having sleep driving with no memory and a 7/11 slurpee side. As if I didn't have enough to worry about. And people wonder why I shy away from taking medications and drugs. It is bad enough the things legal drugs can do to you. Forget the side effects of illegal drugs. Count me out!

Thrilling news

My oldest daughter is twenty-eight. She will hit the twenty-nine mark in December. Her hubby will be thirty soon. They have been married alomst ten years. When they got married nearly ten years ago, it was at the Justice of the Peace. There was no formal wedding ceremony. Audrey called me and asked me if I would give her away when they had a wedding ceremony and renewal of vows for their tenth anniversay in June 2009. I was only too happy to say, "Yes."

After talking about it for a bit on the phone, I told her there was not set way of doing this. The ceremony was entirely up to her. Her mom and I did something like it for our eleventh anniversary (she was pregnant on the tenth.) I told 'A' that I would write a few ceremony options for her (I wrote the ceremony for K and I.) What is even more exciting is that I am not only giving her away, I am officiating the ceremony.

To celebrate my first born growing into such a lovely person, I am going to show some of her pics growing up. No need to thank me 'A'. You would do the same to .. er .. for me.

Restless

Sometimes restless leaves your mind and finds its way to your fingers.

Sometimes very late at night
I sit staring at the page of white
Waiting impatiently for something to write
With a mind too restless to fight

I swear I can hear the whistle of the train
Of the thoughts that amble through my brain
From the life changing to the very inane
Passengers boarding and de-boarding in the rain

It does no benefit to attempt to sleep
Thoughts have been planted waiting to reap
Sorting through, finding what to toss and what to keep
With even those eventually cast to the junk heap

The harvester must make its cutting pass
Everything falls, both flower and grass
Every word and syllable that doth sleep surpass
Gathered and bundled into thinking’s morass

Eventually the fervor begins to cool
Words begin to drown in exhaustions pool
Dying ignominiously in a good writers drool
Some escaping to become the words of a fool

Such are the anthems of the restless
The diatribes of the blest-less
The ramblings of the success-less
The poetry of the impress-less

Welcome
To restless flight 101

The weekend that wouldn't

This weekend will just not die !

I know the weekend was only two days long, but we have been in Court Days. We live right next to the festivities.

They began Friday. So, Friday felt like Saturday.

Saturday came along already felt and thoroughly confused. Saturday also brought the bongo player. Apparently, one of the close vendors plays the bongos, and it is his delight to play them non-stop. The bongos are kin to the recorder in that, it only sounds non-annoying to the person playing. To everyone else, it sends a signal through their brain to that nerve that when vibrated at just the right pitch demands a sacrificial death, usually the producer of said vibration.

Then came Sunday. Sunday we made our way out of the madness to church. It was one of those necessary trips. Now, church is always necessary, but this Sunday, it was double necessary. Anywhere out of this madness would be good. The fact that it was away to church made it all the better. but, then we came back home to the seeming endless parade of people walking up and down our street. As we were driving to get home, we came down a street that was closed at Main street and had a view of wall to wall people for about 4 blocks. One block past Main was the other court day route and it was wall to wall people for 4 blocks in that direction. Sunday was the busiest day. People for 20 square blocks.

Then came today. Now, today would normally be Monday, but it is still in the festival realm. It isn't really Monday. It still feels like the weekend. I am not sure what day of the weekend it is. Saturday has already been used twice. It could be Sunday, since it feels like it should be the end of the weekend, but it doesn't have any of Sunday's good feel. It isn't a church day. It isn't Sunday afternoon nap day. Tammy says it is Mondurday.

The crowd isn't as thick today, except around those vendors selling guns or purses. The best thing about today is that it is the last day. Until next year.

The most fun was walking around with Ava around my neck. For those of you that don't know, Ava is our 4.5 year old 3 feet Ball Python. You can imagine the reaction to seeing a live wriggling snake around the neck of someone walking by you. Kids were fascinated. Adults were mixed between fascinated and terrified. Ava was ambivalent.

I can't wait for tomorrow. The streets will be open again. The kids will be in school again. Life will return to our abnormal normal.

for no real reason

I got bit by the writing bug this afternoon. There was no real reason other than reading. In my reading I saw a word, "Ajar," and it set my mind to wandering .. and pondering .. and writing occured.

Ajar

Love is daunting
When it starts
It is akin to looking
Through a door
Held ajar by a strange breeze
It is like a kind of voyeurism
Where you are seeing more
Than you think you should be seeing
You want to see
What is causing the movement
Your curiosity nearly demands it
The heart of your love
Has begun to open
You fear to see
You are afraid not to see
You are beginning to feel
The selfsame pangs
You aren’t sure if the fear
Is finding the same
Or finding it isn’t the same
Both are terrifying
So you stand at the small opening
Peering with trepidation
Your love wants to whisper
Your love wants to call
Some day you will
You hear your heart say
For today
We will stand
At the heart ajar
Held open
By loves gentle breeze
And you listen
Perhaps
The heart inside
Will whisper
Will call out
And your heart
Held ajar
Will hear

Ron Simpson
October 18, 2008

Start the INSANITY

Susan Powter used to say .. "Stop the insanity."

Here in the sleepy little town of Mt Sterling KY, it is time to start the insanity. For the next four days, our peaceful town will be turned upside down by "Court Days"

Let me explain. In the 1800's, Montgomery County was the largest county in the Commonwealth of Kentucky. It began where it begins now and extended all the way to the West Virginia state line.

Then our American form of government was based on the English County System, brought to this country by the early settlers. One of the system's most important elements was the English Common Law, which was administered throughout the colonies. After the settlers had spread out over the countryside to farms where they were no longer confined to communities or forts, they revived the old English custom of setting aside an annual day on which county officials would sit as a court to adjudicate matters brought before them. This court was served by a sheriff, as in England. And the day designated for the meeting of the court became known as "Court Day".

It became a day to do business. Farmers would bring their livestock and produce. People would bring dogs, guns, and other items to town for trade.

Since then, Montgomery County has been divided and subdivided until it is one of the smallest counties in the Commonwealth. However, the tradition of Court Days still continues. For four days in the middle of October, vendors descend on our calm town. The population of 5600 is added to by estimates of over 80,000 visitors. Let the insanity begin.

The fun part of all of this is where our house sits. We are the closest house to the area designated as the court day area. From my porch I can see vendors and food trailers. The smell of fresh cooking wafts across my porch all the four days. Getting in and out of my drive and going to a store takes 30 to 45 minutes for what normally takes 5 minutes.

Oh yes, let the insanity begin.

They actually close the schools here for the Friday and Monday of court days. Buses cannot navigate the streets necessary for student transportation. That, and who wants to be in class when you can walk around and mingle with 80,000 strangers.

What is most fun is how Tammy reacted to our first court day here. We had just moved in. We had been here just about 2 months. The first day of court days, she looks out, and there are armed men walking up and down our street carrying shotgun, rifles, and all manner of pistols. They are here for trading. Back in Lex, it would have meant you needed to lock the doors and stay away from the windows. There was fixing to be a shootout.

Let the insanity begin.

Today, She is out there amongst them. I am checking the fridge (not red yet) to make sure we have provisions stocked for the 4 day siege. If she comes back from the melee with red automotive spray paint, I know a certain Tennessean that is going to hear from me.

Insanity.

Jesus and other impositions

A few days ago, I posted about a person’s response to my response to a faulty political email. The gist of the post, in her eyes, was that my response went to her family and some of them were 15 and 16 and didn’t understand all this wrangling.

Let me address one thing up front. To think that a teenager today is not savvy enough to comprehend the politics of today is simply ludicrous. My son, Kyle, will be 13 in a week and a half, and he will debate politics intelligently with anyone. He watched the debates. He commented on what was presented. He has clear and definable political views.

Beyond that, one of the family members responded to my response. She did not address my politics, but stated that she didn’t know me and didn’t want me emailing her. Since my response had a Biblical reference in it, she said she didn’t appreciate me imposing my religion on her. She said I had no way of knowing if she were a Christian or not. She was respectful in her email.

I thought about it. I agree that religion does not need to be crammed down ones throat. However, as I thought about it, it occurred to me that there are impositions in everyone’s life.

When someone on the street says to me, “how about that Wildcat game,” they are imposing their sports on me. What if I am a (shudder) Cardinals fan?

Every day, in some way, or someplace, someone is imposing their view on me. Every day I get emails offering me Viagra. Here someone is implying that I have difficulties in that area and they are imposing their medical opinion on me. How do I handle this? Just like most other people, I laugh and hit the ‘delete’ key.

Every day, someone is imposing their morality on me when they look disdainfully at something one of my kids is doing, in my presence. How do I handle this? Like most folks, I let it run off of my back. Now, if you voice your opinion, you might not get the ‘run off my back’ response.

At least a couple times a week, I get a spam mail about pornography. Oh my gosh, where is my uzi? No, just like most of us, I hit that faithful delete key. But, here is someone imposing their fetish on me. How many times have you been at a gathering where someone started telling an off color joke? What do you do? Walk away. It is just that simple.

What about racial humor? How dare you impose your bigotry on me? We generally walk away. If we comment at all, it is simply a request not to tell it.

However, just let a believer mention the name of Jesus in a conversation or email, and the non-believer starts making the claims of imposing our religion. Puh-lease! If you don’t believe, his name is just another name. I might as well have said Bob. Speaking of Bob, have you heard …. Oh wait, I don’t want to impose my Bob on you ..

I am telling you this. Jesus is part of my life. I talk about my wife. I talk about my truck. I talk about my kids. I talk about my grandkids. I talk about my job. I talk about my hobbies. All of those are imposing on you. I am going to talk about Jesus. I do have a blog for Bible studies. On it, I don’t talk about my wife, my truck, my kids, my grandkids, or my job. You can see it at won-by-one.blogspot.com.

If you don’t like what I say, don’t read.

My dad told me that my rights ended where his began. Same here, my right to write, your right to read, they work together. But, that is just me, imposing my opinion on ya.

Dare I say it?

Have a blessed day.

Hero or Villian

On my way from robbing a bank I rescue a young child from death by snatching him from in front of a bus, risking my own life. Am I a bank robber or a hero? Does the fact that I am a hero take away from the fact that I am a bank robber? Does the fact that I am a bank robber make my actions any less heroic?

Have I lost my mind, you ask.

Actually, I have been watching political ads, especially those centered around two candidates running for senator here in Kentucky. The two candidates have been tossing barbs back and forth for months. Recent polls have indicated that the race have become much closer. To this end, several other groups have entered the fray with ads of their own, including the democratic party and republican party. Now, this is not to say these are the only groups putting out ads. The muckraking and mudslinging has reached epic proportions. They seem to think that pointing out a negative in one of the candidates past erases any good either has done. I believe that both candidates have done great things for other people. It is as if we can only remember one aspect of any candidate.

One voted for a medicare increase while voting against a bill that would provide funds for child care. Another voted to improve health care while voting against a defense appropriation. One was a partner in a venture that was sued for mistreatment of veterans in a medical care facility. The other lined his pockets with money from oil lobbyists. Then they both deny all the allegations and point the finger at the other.

Some are hailing me as a hero. Others are trying to vilify me as a bank robber. Is it ever as black and white as we want others to see while our own lives are shaded in gray? The bank was a front for a drug cartel and the kid was a drug runner. So, now, am I a hero or a villain?

The Rub

Most of the time all the political rhetoric and mudslinging falls off my back. Oh, it galls me, but I resist commenting most of the time, because, most comments are, a) made out of ignorance, b) made by ignorant people, or c) made by people who have already closed their minds to the matter. Commenting, while clearing my clogged vent pipe, is useless in that commenting is generally meant to be a response in an open dialogue. It is not a dialogue nor is it open when it originates from one of the three before mentioned places.

Now, by the mere fact the first phrase in the first sentence of this blog is 'most of the time,' we can readily conclude that this is not one of those most of the times. Regular readers of my blog can tell you where I stand politically. some can tell you where I stand religiously and morally. For you newcomers, Let me say that I an not a cookie cutter 'stamp it out' decision maker. I am generally well versed on subjects of politics, the economy (more than knowing the price of a gallon of gas in my neighborhood,) and religion. I have, in my lifetime, held various jobs and positions which include, but are not limited too: Stock Clerk, Salesman, Electrician (union), Assistant Pastor, Teacher (public education), Cook, and various other jobs. This leads to my varied and various opinions.

I have not ever allowed someone tell me how to vote. I have in my 33 years as a registered voter, read the political slate that my union endorsed, and have voted my own heart, agreeing or disagreeing. I have listened to the advice and ramblings of religious leaders and heard their choices as to for whom I should vote. With them, I have equally voted my heart. I think the choice of who gets my vote in a political contest is one of the most important choices I make. It does not compare to choices I make daily concerning my children and my life, in as much as I make these decisions every few years instead of daily. However, the decision I make in 3 weeks will affect me for the next 4 years and beyond. Comparing to two are like comparing apples and oranges.

If I am deciding who will babysit my children, then certain issues are more important than others. In that decision, one issue can seal or kill the deal. If I am looking for a good mechanic, there are also certain things I look for, such as ASE certification, experience, product knowledge, and trustworthiness. If I am looking for someone to pal around with on Friday nights, other factors come into play.

To make the choice of who will be the leader of our country based on one issue is ludicrous. To decide who should be President based on any one issue is like deciding on who will work on my car based solely on his/her hair color.

Back to my original point: Someone sent me an email about one of the political candidates which stated the fact that this candidate was dangerous because of a book they were seen carrying. I, as I usually do, checked other sources to check the validity of this report. It was accompanied by a picture. The picture clearly shows the book. It is hard to cover that. However, the description of the book was wrong, and the premise of the book was attributed to an anti-American Muslim writer, which was wrong as well.

I could not contain myself. I responded to said email in a 'reply to all' fashion. I stated ion my response that the originally forwarded email was incorrect. I further stated that we need to be careful in how we judge others and upon what we base such judgements. The Bible says we will be judged with the same mercy with which we judge others. I was not mean or cruel in my response. I was informative and questioning.

A little while after sending the response, I got a call from the sender, in tears, asking me if she had offended me. I told her she had not. She was more upset, however, that I had used the 'reply to all' feature. This email was going to some of her family, which, in her words, were too young to understand. I was thinking, if they are to young to understand my response, aren't they too young to get the first email?

My questions is this, and here is the rub, If it is simple to check the validity of such emails, why forward them when you don't know if it is true or not? If we forward a lie, have we not lied? If we forward slander, have we not slandered?

Now, let me say this, I have made my decision as to who is getting my vote in the upcoming election. It was a decision I made based on a conglomeration of issues and concerns. It was not based on a political party's endorsement. It was not a down the line, agree with everything he says, decision. It was a decision that accounted for my political, economic, religious, and moral concerns. Unless some major new revelation occurs between now and election day, my decision is made.

I will discuss with anyone how I arrived at my decision. I will discuss with anyone how they arrive at their decision. I respect your right to have your own opinion regardless of how radically different it is from mine. I can be and am, friends with people that disagree with my views. It is one of my favorite freedoms. I cherish my right to hold my opinion without having to make you understand it, just as I cherish your right to have your opinion without having to make me understand it.

One should never ask a question if one is not prepared for the answer. In the movie, "A Civil Action," the character played by Robert Duvall told the character played by John Travolta, that a lawyer "should never ask a question you don't already know the answer too." I don't ask questions that I am afraid to hear the answer to. I don't always know the answer, but I am prepared, usually, for whatever answer comes.

Opinions are opinions. Opinions that have been proven are called facts. It is not my opinion that Abraham Lincoln was assassinated. It is a fact. It is an opinion that Booth worked alone. Facts that are misrepresented are lies. They are not opinions. Opinions based on these misrepresented facts are called opinions.

Anyway, each of you are entitled your opinion. I am entitled to mine.

post surgery

Kyle is home following a tonsillectomy this morning. We were in at 7 and out at noon. Here is Kyle with his surgery hair:

The Grandkid Anniversary

I am not sure which anniversary the fifth one is, exactly. You know, there is the golden anniversary, the diamond anniversary, the paper anniversary, the china anniversary, and all the other ones. I did check and the fifth anniversary is the wood anniversary, according to one site.

According to Wikipedia, the first anniversary is traditionally paper and modernly clocks. Hmmm, I am thinking with lots of first year couples it is divorce papers or the little clock attached to the bomb under the car, LOL.

Accordingly, the second year anniversary for the survivors is traditionally cotton and modernly china. Yeah, nothing says the honeymoon is over quite like the gift of a new cotton flannel nightgown.

Again, according to Wikipedia, the third anniversary gifts are leather traditionally and glass modernly. I am quite sure I didn’t give TJ anything leather for our anniversary, although, there are several interesting leather things around the house. Somewhere, there is even a leather rose.

Now, the fourth year anniversary gifts are linens or silk traditionally and appliances modernly. I have bought TJ several silk things. I don’t recall if one of them was for our anniversary last year, but it is possible.

This brings us to the anniversary of today, numero cinco. It is, as I said the wood anniversary. Modernly it is the silverware anniversary. We haven’t bought anything for this anniversary as of yet. However, this afternoon, my daughters are getting together to celebrate my youngest daughters 21st birthday (yesterday) and it appears it is going to be a libationary one. My oldest, (the one that remembered to call me on my birthday one week ago,) asked me if we could watch her children. That would be three precious angels, (sometimes equally referred to as demons.) we agreed. Then, Tammy’s oldest asked if we could watch her 15 month old angel/demon while she tried to catch up on some rest. Of course we agreed.

So, it appears that the fifth wedding anniversary is going to be the grandkid anniversary. Or, as I like to call it, grandpa locked in his room while grandma pulls out her hair. Oh, the fun we will have.

Better

Dusty is better. He is less lethargic. He is much more Dusty. He has, however, started checking out his 'area'.

It is interesting, in that the Vet made an incision in the shaft, ahead of the testicles, and removed them, leaving the sack. Kyle was looking at it. It looked like he still had something back there. I told him that the Vet left the sack for Dusty, just in case he was going to the store to get doggie biscuits, he would have a little sack to carry them in. All he needs is a zipper put in and he can use it like we do a fanny pack. I can see it now, Dusty keeps all his important papers (I don't know what papers are important to dogs,) and loose items in.

Anyway, he is better. we will begin re-introducing him and Rocky this evening and tomorrow. We will see if this 'attitude adjustment' surgery worked.

Recovery

Dusty is home after his hard day at the Vet. Dusty lost his testicles today. His overly aggressive behavior was their down- fall. He was fine when we left the Vet's office. There were other dogs in the outer office and he was raring to see them. Since getting home, however, he has become rather lethargic. He staggers around and sleeps.

Here he is curled up in the chair. The missing articles no longer get in his way. He raises his eyes if you call his name. that's the best he can do, for now.

Tammy thought he might be cold as a side effect of the anesthesia and pain killers. She covered him up in the chair. Talk about a spoiled pooch.

I told Kyle (son) and Caleb (daughter's bf) that I wanted the removed testicles in a jar, so whenever they give me grief, I can shake the jar to remind them about what happened to the last guy that ticked me off.

I made a list ?!?!?!

My dear friend, Red - over at Creative Pandalerium gave me this blog award. I'm sincerely flattered! I dont usually follow through with these kinda things, but i do have several blogs I read regularly, so here goes ...
Red explained - that the award comes with a few responsibilities--

1) Add the logo of the award to your blog
2) Add a link to the person who awarded it to you
3) Nominate at least 7 other blogs
4) Add links to those blogs on your blog
5) Leave a message for your nominees on their blogs!

The blogs I'm nominating, in no particular order are:

SuburbanSanity
Debbie is a load of fun to read. She has a lifetime of experiences to share. She has a wonderful sense of humor.

RetroGirl66
Red is my girl. We have been friends for a long time. We have leaned on each other. We have shared our poetry. We have shared our other writings. She is the other sexy redhead in my life.

NakedWithTheLightsOn
Stacy is a single mom in NY. she is a fellow writer. I have been reading her for several years. I enjoy her sense of humor.

SweetTea
Trish is in Texas. She is a fellow teacher. She is a wonderful mom. She is outspoken to a fault. She calls life as she sees it. I really like that. She is genuine. She emails when she is worried and when she is happy about something as well. I love reading her blog and seeing the world through her eyes.

TroublesHandful
Now, what can I say about this blogger? She is my Heart and Soul. If you check my phone records, I talk to her more than anyone. If you were able to check my life, I spend more time with her than anyone. She is a great wife and mom. she is a wonderful writer. She is the number one sexy redhead in my life. Her blog is languishing because she has been fighting daily pain with her back. We communicate on so many levels. I miss this level.

CreativePandalerium
This is the other blog of the other sexy redhead. i hope it isn't cheating to have two blogs by the same person on the list. Oh well, If it is, I will await the blog police. They can also cite me for only adding 6 blogs to the list.

Who are you reading ?

the big FIVE-ONE

yeah, I know. Not impressive, but it sure beats the alternative.

My 51st birthday has come and gone without much fuss. That was by choice, mostly. I did ask Tammy that there be no party. I wanted a quiet day. I didn't want a houseful of guests that we would have to clean up after. I just wanted a peaceful day. I got it.

I was out early to go pick up a cell phone for the evangelist preaching revival at the church. He is a good friend of many years. He liked my phone. I called my connection and got him one at a 64% savings. I drove to Richmond to pick it up. i did that first thing in the morning. I wake up early usually, so, while most everyone else slumbered, I drove.

Tammy asks me every year what I want for my birthday. She says I am very hard to buy for. This goes back to my dad. Dad was the same way. If he needed it, he bought it. If he wanted it, he bought it. If he wanted it but couldn't afford it, you probably couldn't afford it either. Add to that, that whatever you got him, he was going to love because you got it for him. So, you never knew if you finally got him something he wanted, needed, or just loved.

I am quite similar. If I need it, I get it. (There is one exception .. wiper blades .. I don't know why.) If i want it, I most likely have it already. If you ask me what I want, I will tell you that I want nothing. She says it is very frustrating. I accept that, and am trying to do better about telling those that ask what I want for my birthday, anniversary, Christmas, etc.

Here is the short list of always acceptable gifts for me:

Socks (you can never have too many)

Pull over three button shirts (name brand not required)

Cash (all denominations accepted)

Wiper blades (again .. I don't know why)
Underwear (of course, who wants to give the gift of underwear .. creepy)
Gift certificates to restaurants (I'll eat anywhere)

Other than that, you are on your own.

Of course, my birthday is now over, so you are in the clear.

Oh yeah, I did tell Tammy one thing I wanted. I want a shutter release cable for my Canon camera. So I can have it on the tripod and snap the picture without touching the camera and shaking it, creating a blurred effect. The closest place carrying such an item is in Lexington, some 35 miles away. She wanted to go on Saturday to get it but was exhausted from her 100 mile trip to see Chris. I told her we would be in town this week one day, and we would stop and get it. She said, "But, it won't be on your birthday." I assured her that i would still know it was a birthday gift and would be just as excited and appreciative. She also wanted to cook me a special dinner, but was unable due to the worn out thing and revival services that evening. Same thing, I told her to do it on another night. Same story, won't be my birthday. Sheesh, I will still know. LOL.

So, there were calls from family, cards, well wishes, the singing of the birthday song, and some peace. It was a grand 51st.

One more day to go

Tomorrow is the day.

October 4th, 51 years ago, a bundle of joy came into the lives of Ron and Trudy. I was the 3rd of 6 kids. 18,626 days later, I am standing on the cusp of being 51 years old. I am surrounded by people that love me. I have a great family. My brother and sisters, my children, Tammy's children, keep me covered in love. It is a good life.

I cant think of a better way to turn 51. No hooplah, no parade, just a quiet day filled with love and well wishes. (did you hear that, Honey? No party ?)

If the world didn’t stop

I knew the world would stop
When you stopped being in it
It was as if you were the reason it turned
Even though I knew this wasn’t true

You stopped and it continued
I stayed in it continuing as well
The part of me that belonged to you
Still ties our worlds together

Here in expanding life
There in the finished life
We are bound forever
By this cord we wove in life

As I walk and sometimes run
Life is full and yet missing a part
That part, however, is never far
I feel you with me everyday

In nearly fifty years
I never fully considered
What life would be like
Without you where you were

There is no phone I can use
There is no quick drive
There is no email return
None of these bring you to me

There is one place I can go
One place where I always find you
It is the one place
Where I miss you the most

In my heart
You are there
One of the places
Your world kept turning

This is the place you had in life
That was covered by your presence
The overlooked, taken for granted place
That never stopped when life did

Every story adds to you
Every old friend I talk with
In our common circle
Brings more of you to my heart

Over a year and a half
And you are more today
Than you were then
Less than you will be tomorrow

I love you dad
More than ever

Thanks

Ron Simpson, Jr.
October 2, 2008

My POLICE CAR

Here is my newest ride. It is a Ford Crown Victoria Police Interceptor. It is so funny to be driving down the interstate and people slow down as you come up on them, thinking you are the Po-po

.