couple of latelies

is that even a word ? latilies ? My spell check doesn't recognize it as one .. the plural of lately .. lately's ? It doesn't recognize that either.. oh well ..

Anyway .. here is Joe (drawing #1) .. he just preached a revival for us ..
Then there is Tatum (drawing #2) .. former student, now football player and student at University of Kentucky
Then there is K (drawing #3) brother of Stellan

Praying for Stellan

Clicking the pic will take you to the blog

More of that poetry stuff

The man that saw me as a child and the child that saw me as a man

Can I tell you how hard I fought to grow up?
No matter what I did I still was the child
You were proud all my life when I did the grownup things
How delighted you were when I began to talk
How you beamed when I began to crawl and walk
Beginning school and even jobs eventually
Even as I grew into all the things men do
Part of me remained a child
That part that ever lived in the back of your eyes

There was a part of me that never left those days
When seeing the pride in your eyes was everything
Others could certify and recognize my accomplishments
The established authority could give me frame-able evidence
Still it paled in relationship to the feeling I got
When the child in my heart burst into your room
Excitedly carrying the proof of my accomplishment
To show it to you and to see once more
The child that still lived in the back of your eyes

I could see him, you know

He would awaken from some light slumber
He would come close to the side of your eyes
And as he heard you go on about whatever prize I had brought
He would begin to glow faintly
As you would scrutinize the evidence
As he read with you every word
Every whereas and hitherto
He would come to a sparkle
Barely noticeable to those gathered around
But the child half that resided within me
Saw the brother that still resided within you
And for that moment
I lived as a boy that still needed his father’s approval

For all our relationship may have become
This part of it seemed ordained to remain
The child that lived within me always needed to be in touch
With that child that lived still in the back of your eyes
That symbiosis sustaining both
Each carrying to and carrying from
Both the child I thought I would always be
And the child you thought you would always see
 
Then one day
Quite unexpectedly
You went away

The adult I had turned into knew the day would come
Even unexpectedly, my heart had tried to prepare me
I had filled my life with relationships designed to replace
I had established other ports to share my goods
They offered the heartfelt pat on the back
They brought the warmth of societal recognition to bear
They stood ready to replace
That one place that could never be replaced
For all their warmth and genuineness
They did not have the child I would always be
Living deep within the back of their eyes

No matter how often the child inside came to see
There was no child other half looking back at me

Dad, I miss so many things about our relationship
Others have stepped up to try to fill
No one does so in any attempt to take your place
They do so merely to fill your empty space
None of these, however, can fill this space

It has come to me finally some fifty plus years past my birth
That the child I recognized so intently in your eyes
The child that called out so earnestly to the child in mine
Was there before I was even born
He was in part, part of the joy you had for me as your son
And part of the child that lived in your eyes
That always looked for the child in his father’s eyes

I thought the child living in the back of my eyes would die
When you left so abruptly that day in March
I knew he would languish and pass without his symbiotic partner
But I have found, and none too soon
He lives just fine
He sparkles and shines
And exchanges his knowing glances
With the children that still live in the eyes of mine
My sons and daughters still seek him
Even if they do not know it
 
There is a child still living behind their adult eyes
And that child still bursts into dad’s room
Bearing the authentication of their accomplishments
They bring the frame-able evidence into the court
They know they are fulfilling the role of adult
But there is a child living deep inside
That comes to find the child living deep inside
And they sparkle and shine
As the children that never die
Behind the sparkles in dad’s eyes

I cannot see the child that lived in your eyes anymore
I will miss him ever
But his work and legacy go on
He has taught me to ever see
The children living deep inside
Hiding playfully behind
The adult in my children’s eyes

Ron Simpson, Jr.
March 27, 2009

Head out the window

There has been an irritating cat hanging out on our porch teasing our boxer. Dusty (boxer) wants it so badly. He whines and barks. He runs from window to door to window on the other side and back again.

A couple nights ago, Dusty is bark bark barking. I ask Kyle why he is barking. It is that cat. I told kyle to get the cat off the porch. He takes the broom and chases it away. About 20 minutes later, more barking. It is the cat. I tell Kyle to take the sword this time. He refuses. He chases the cat away again. Later, we hear what sounds like someone knocking on our front door. We wonder why Dusty isn't barking to alert us. Well, it is our neighbor, and it appears Dusty is barking, just somewhere else, as he has busted out the window and gone after the cat. I told Kyle he should have run the cat through when I told him too.

We retrieve Dusty with the help of the neighbors. Chella cleans up the glass. I get one of the baby gates to put across the window so the cat cant get in. Dusty gets locked in the kennel for the night to keep from going out the window again. Fortunately, we live in a small town where it is okay to have a window busted out and all your belongings aren't looted in the night.

Yesterday, I cleaned out the rest of the window, measured the size, and order the glass from a local lumber yard. I picked up the glass and put it in the window. I glazed about half of it yesterday and will finish the glazing today. I cant find my putty knife, so I used a spoon instead. This slowed down the glazing a bit. I will pick up a putty knife today while I am out and about.

I am just trying to figure out if this goofy purebred boxer is worth the $25 he just cost me.

touched by sadness

Someone I know from here (some would say I didn't really know, but whatever) posted about their neighbor (someone I really do not know) losing their child. She was 3 months old and half of a set of twins. The loss was apparently unexpected (as if any loss, expected or otherwise, is easier than another.) Any time you hear such news of sadness and are not somehow touched, you have passed beyond your own humanity. Part of being a human being is to be touched by the sadness and suffering of all humanity. I fully realize there is cruelty and misery in this world that I will never see, hear, or know about, and can do even less about it. However, we are all made less if we do not care about the suffering of others and if we do not have some place in us that wishes to alleviate that suffering in some way. When I hear about it in places I cannot reach, I send my prayers. Some will say that this is just my way of alleviating my sadness and frustration. I say, "Whatever." You think what you wish and I will believe what I wish.

Anyway, in the middle of the night when I read the post, I wrote this:

Goodbye too soon

How do you say goodbye so soon after saying hello?
How do you ever again look into the eyes of a child and not see them?
How will you ever hear a child’s laugh or cry and not hear them?
How do you walk past a swing ever again without seeing them?
How do you see a bike with training wheels without seeing them?
How do you drive by a school at classes end without seeing them?
How do you look at prom dresses or tuxedos without seeing them?
How do you think about a wedding without seeing them?

It is really over simple to say
And very difficult to imagine doing
But, you don’t
They will live in your heart forever
They will at times travel to your imaginings
They will try to escape a bit in your tears
But there will always be plenty of them inside

No one can truthfully tell you they know how you feel
Most cannot even imagine, even if we wanted to, how it feels
Even less are those who can relate
Less even than these, are those that can empathize
And there is one who can see inside your heart
Can see your pain and the depth of it
Can hear the cries that don’t make it out of your lips
Can see the tears that don’t make it to your cheeks
Can hear the words you only scream in your mind

He will be your strength
He will be your courage
He will be your faith
He will be your believing

I will not insult you by pretending to know the answer
While I may know many answers
I do not know the answer to that question
I will never be able to truthfully tell you “why?”
I will try to say the smooth soothing words
I will speak with all the gentleness I can muster
I will hold your hand
I will cry with you

When your day becomes tomorrow
And tomorrow moves on to other tomorrows
Sadness moves on to dullness
And dullness moves into acceptance
You will learn to say goodbye
Too soon

Ron Simpson, Jr.
March 25, 2009

Memory day

Today is shaping up to be a memory day. I have been thinking about dad. He passed away March 8, 2007. He was born July 5, 1930. He was so much more than the sum of his parts. At times in my life he wore several hats. He seemed to always know which hat to wear at the right time. Allow me to explain:

He was my father (always.)

For a time in my life, he was my Pastor.

He was my teacher.

There were times he was my Foreman on an electrical job.

There were times he was my tool buddy on electrical jobs.

He was my friend.

He was my mentor.

He was my sectional leader when I was District Elder, Church Growth Director, and Christian Education Director.

We have worked together and we have butted heads. We didn't always agree, as any two individuals are apt to do. He knew how to disagree without being disagreeable. He always sought to teach me. He never sugar-coated the truth. He told me the truth even when he knew it would cut me. He took no pleasure in the hurt, but realized the greater good made it necessary.

I remember growing up that I never had to question that he loved me. I hated him at times, or thought I did. I was mad at him at times.

He was, as you can gather from the hats he wore, a minister, pastor, and an electrician. When I was a brash 13-year-old, he asked me what i wanted to be when I grew up. I told him I wasn't sure but knew two things I never wanted to be, an electrician or a preacher.

I accepted the call into the ministry when I was 18-years-old, and began my apprenticeship to the Electricians union the same year. Odd, how life works.

I write, draw, and paint. Years later, I discovered some paintings that dad did, and heard of his considerable writing skills as well. It seemed, in this case, the acorn did not fall far from the tree.

He taught me even when I didn't know he was teaching me. He taught me by living his life. There was an incident in my life when I was 17 that arose through a comment my sister made aloud in Sunday School where Mom was our teacher. When we got home, Mom was reading me the riot act, when she asked Dad if he had anything to say. His response, "I can't make him take it back." It turned out the girl was not pregnant.

Cut to years later:

My daughter calls and I need to come to where she works. She has something important to tell me. She was pregnant. She was 18. I go to her work. She comes out to hug me. As we hug, I ask the question, before she can even tell me, "How far along are you?" I remembered Dad. I could have yelled. I could have screamed. I could have told her it was stupid. I could have quoted statistics about teenage pregnancy. However, all the things I could do, right or wrong, wouldn't take away her pregnancy. Thanks Dad.

Trust me, I am not claiming to be the best father of the year. I made plenty of mistakes. I did the wrong thing sometimes. Parenting is a learning/teaching thing.

The lessons were as varied as the situations we encountered. Dad knew how to be right and he knew how to be wrong. One thing he told me was: If you did it, admit it. If you didn't do it, dont accept the blame. Be willing to apologize even when you are not in the wrong.

When dad died, the funeral home couldn't hold the flowers or the people. A friend of mine, showing support for TJ and I came to the funeral home to bring flowers, even though he had never met dad. He was amazed. He had never seen anything like it. There were 110 flower arrangements sent or delivered. There were over 1000 visitors. People came from all over the country. He was a pastor of a small church in Lexington, Kentucky, and his life had touched the world. There were missionaries. There were pastors. There were evangelists. There were electricians. There were friends. There was family. The funeral was attended by over 500. His burial was a more private affair, just family, mainly.

Someone told me, recently, that I had the same heart. I was thrilled that someone might see dad in me. Someone told me just this weekend that I reminded them of dad. Again, it thrills me to be compared to him. While I am an individual with my own personality, I like when people see the best of dad in me.

Dad always worried that he would be forgotten. No one that knew dad, ever forgot him. I am always running into people who knew dad.

You can google his name and not find out much. Still, he was a positive influence to thousands of people. He will always be in my heart.

I love you Dad, now as ever.

It has been a cooking day

This has been a primarily lazy Saturday.

This morning late, nearly noon, I trimmed the fat off of a roast, and cut it into pieces approximately 1/2" thick and put it in the fridge soaking in some "Pappy's XXX White Lightning all the loving you'll ever need barbecue sauce and more".

Then I diced up two green peppers. I cut up a bunch (official measurement) of green onions. I sliced up some carrots. I put them in one of those green "save your veggies" bags. I added some cashews, shook it up to mix it well, and put it in the fridge as well.

Then around 3:30 I went down and hunted out the wok. I sliced an onion and put the slices in the wok with basil oil and garlic. I cooked the beef, garlic. and the onions in the basil oil until the beef was well browned. I took the beef out and cut it into strips about 1/2" x 1/2" and returned them to the wok. I added water chestnuts and baby corn and let the beef finish cooking.

I removed the beef, onions, water chestnuts, and baby corn, and put them in a container. I added the veggie mixture to the wok and cooked them to 'almost done' status. I removed them and put the in another container. I put both of these in the fridge.

We are having a dinner tomorrow after morning services and then returning for an afternoon service. I will take rice to prepare fresh and my wok to bring the rest of the mixture back up to heat and finish the final few minutes of cooking. I might add a bit of broccoli tomorrow while cooking it. Broccoli works best when it is added fresh.

I did do the usual taste testing. I think it will be well received. It will be an oriental BBQ thang.

I do love cooking.

I'll take a pic of it if I remember to take the camera.

Trip to the big city

There were plumbing repairs to be done. The local Lowes could not match up the spline pattern of my existing stem. The Lowes in the big city used to have a wire ring that had all the stems on it and one could put their handle on it and know which replacement handle they needed. That would be too easy for the dolt that works the plumbing department here locally. So, this was going to require a trip to the big city. After several stops, I found what I needed.
Driving in the big city is (Sarcasm warning) one of the great joys of living there. This was the scene at 1:30 PM driving around the circle road the goes around the big city. It used to be the outside circle, but the city has grown. The new outside circle is about three miles further out now. See the traffic coming to the light. It was a solid line of cars. At 1:30 in the afternoon ?!?!?
I took care of my business and got out of town. Driving closer to home looked more like this:
And this:

Life is good in the country !

She used to love her enemy.

Almost 3 years ago now, when we were house hunting, TJ fell in love with this house. She loved so many things about it. It immediately felt like home. One of the things she loved was the bedrooms upstairs. Seventeen steps separated the general living area from the private living areas. Seventeen wonderful steps kept our private lives private from visitors.

Move to today:

Two back surgeries later and now she hates those formerly wonderful seventeen steps. She still loves the house. She still loves the separation. She still loves the privacy. She hates the seventeen steps. I tell her she has an alarm to alert me whenever she is about to come into the sitting room. It is a grunt or a sound of finally making it to the top of those seventeen steps.

It is worse now that she is confined more so to the bedroom than any other room in the house. The most comfortable chair is in our bedroom. The bed is in our bedroom. There is a TV in our bedroom. She has books in there. She has crocheting materials in there. Her heating pad is in there.

Yesterday, I bought a mini-fridge for the bedroom. Now, she has cold ‘pop’ in the bedroom. She has cheese dip in the bedroom. She can keep more on the things she needs to travel up and down the steps in the bedroom now.

Venom commented that the before posted poem should ‘get me some’ for sure. I am thinking the mini-fridge goes a lot farther in that. You know, less back pains for both of us.

Of course, now it appears that our waterbed heater has stopped working. “CUDDLING ALERT”

See y’all later.

This is where I was going

We were watching Letterman’s interview with Julia Roberts .. I told TJ I liked her .. she told me she had always liked her down-to-earthiness .. I rubbed TJ’s back and said, “I’ve always liked this.”

She responded, “Always?” in that playful tone she gets when she thinks she has just caught you in a faux pas ..

Now, I am not as supersonic in the speed of my wit as she is, but I can sometimes put the pedal to the metal and keep up ..

“Yes,” I replied, “this is where I have been heading all my life. Even before I knew you, this is where I was going.”

This is where I was going

Before I knew the light
that pierced my world
came from you,
I knew it was where I was going

Before I had your hand to hold,
your face to behold,
or your skin to caress,
this is where I was going.

Long before
the sound of your voice
would bring smiles to my world;
this is the direction I traveled.

Before I had the joy
of knowing you were in my life,
I had the anticipation
of where I was going.

It has always been you

around every corner
was a fleeting glimpse of you
over every horizon
was the promise of you
through every door
down every path
with every twist or turn
and all the bumps and potholes
along every lane
this is where I was going

Tomorrow
we will continue
along the paths
that make
the rest of our lives
and I will know
this is where I was going
always

Ron Simpson, Jr.
March 18, 2009

Michelangelo's David goes back to Italy

After a two year visit to the United States, Michelangelo's famous masterpiece is returning to Italy.

Proud Sponsors were:

was not gonna, but now am

I didn't intend on posting this, but decided differently, after my weekend away from posting (I am sure no one noticed ..lol) Anyway ...

This is something that has been rolling around in my head (a dangerous place to be) for a while. I recently read a brilliantly written piece along the same lines on Heather of the EO’s blog and was urged into action. I did email her and let her know that this is in no way a competition piece. Writing should never fall into the place where it takes a competitive sport mentality. That does happen sometimes on here. It is sad when it does. TJ (wife,) Chella (daughter,) and myself all write poetry from time to time and will sometimes take an opening line and see how it expands in our minds and what it becomes. It is never a competition. It is just a fun exercise. The last line we did this with was, “The pain is silent.” It yielded some interesting results. Perhaps at the end of this I might mention a line and see how other writers expand it.

Here is the piece I wrote earlier:

fourteen

fourteen people
mostly strangers
save a couple huddled couples
aware of the rest
but still disconnected
bubble people
chance bringing them
to the same place
most enter with eyes down
connection neither needed
nor wanted
if there is speaking
it is small and strained
the thread that binds them
is precarious at best
it is of limited length
it is knotless
it holds for the moment
then releases
as it pulls through

“Will that be all today, Sir?”
“No, I’d like a pack of light smokes.”

behind, they notice
only to gauge the wait
who cares if he smokes
if it doesn’t make me late
he matters
only for the moment
his life interacts with theirs
he looks back
is he apologizing
because she can’t find his brand
is he just looking through

she sips her coffee
as she waits
her store card
her coffee club card
her debit card
ready to speed her stay
a scan, a punch, a swipe
and the thread pulls on through
her replacement enters
eyes down
buried in their own world

sometime
almost recently
we became strangers
to all those around
courteous greetings drifted away
any feigned concern
replacing genuine
floated on the same wave

fourteen strangers
in a gas convenience store
passing through the market
like they pass through life
people enter into peripheral vision
noticed but unnoticed
they begin to forget them
even before they could begin to remember

“Why are you late, Jones?”
“some guy at the store
couldn’t find his debit”
“some guy on the freeway
wouldn’t go on”
“some guy”

“oh, sorry, my turn
no, nothing else
how much?
I think I have the change
thanks
you too, have a nice day”

I can’t even feel the thread
As it pulls on through

strangers

Ron Simpson, Jr.
March 8, 2009

And the line to challenge my writing friends:

“False hope is just a bus ride between prisons”

Do I hear wheels turning?

project "Memorial"

Exodus 39.6-7
And they wrought onyx stones inclosed in ouches of gold, graven, as signets are graven, with the names of the children of Israel. And he put them on the shoulders of the ephod, that they should be stones for a memorial to the children of Israel; as the LORD commanded Moses.

Whenever the priest ministered before the Lord, the stones of his shoulders were a constant reminder to God of his children. The stones were a constant memorial before God. When we pray, and we lift up the names of our families, and our friends, and our loved ones, we are presenting a memorial before God.

I decided to make a memorial box and put stones in it with the names of my constant prayers. They are a memorial to God. They hold no supernatural power. They are not charms. They contain no mystical properties. They are simply a reminder to me to present my memorials before God when I pray. When I have prayed, I can say, "God, touch my memorials."

Now, I have to find a good place for my Memorial box.

Never ending

It is 7:50 PM. It is March 12th.

It is snowing outside. The cars are mostly covered.

Sigh. It is the never ending winter.

Good thing I like Winter !

Tried a different subject

And, Debbie .. yes she was scared (comment on previous post) but being good grandparents we forced her to face her fears in an effort to overcome them .. and a good photo op ..

Cloe meets a legend

rejection

I got my first rejection letter today.

I will NOT be singing the National Anthem at a Legends game this year.

I have sang the Anthem for the previous three years running. It has been a blast. Even in not getting picked, I get two tickets to a game of my choice. So, I will be visiting the stadium and listening to someone else.

c'est la vie (spelling?)

Abundantly

John 10.10

"I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly."

When Jesus was saying, “I am come that you might have life,” He wasn’t merely talking about the life as the essence, life as in being alive, life as is signified by breathing. If that was all He meant, the word used would have been ‘psuche’. He was talking about the things that make a life a life. He wasn’t telling us that He was come so that we could have our breaths. He wasn’t saying that knowing and serving Him meant that we would have the ability to breathe abundantly. He was talking about the things that make a life. He was talking about loving, laughing, crying, feeling, having, being, and everything between the breaths.

There are people in this world, you meet them every day, that do not have life, but rather, life has them. They are merely walking through the breaths. They are alive, but not alive. They have life, in as much as they are breathing (‘psuche’), but they do not have life (‘zoe’), and definitely do not have it more abundantly (‘perissos’.)

Jesus came that our ‘psuche’ may be a ‘perissos’ ‘zoe’.

What do people spend a lifetime grubbing for more and more? Why are people never satisfied with the things they have? Why do we need the next biggest car, or gadget, or house, or bank account? Where is our tether attached?

Tether ball: a game where a ball is attached to a pole by a line (tether) and each player seeks to wrap the tether around the pole in their direction.

The ball: when the player hits the ball in the game, he does not hit it in a curved direction. He hits it and it flies outward. However, at some point, it reaches the end of its tether and will travel in a circle around the pole. The ball, by the force exerted on it by the player, is trying to travel outward, but is tied by the tether and forced to travel around and get ever farther away from the freedom it seeks.

Jesus came to break the tether.

This will be expounded farther on my won by one blog later this week.

promised BD pics

It was a 'Grand' time at the grandsons birthday party. A wonderful time for Papaw. It was attended by 5 of the 7 kids and all 6 grandkids. There was pizza, and cake, and swimming. Mmmmm Mmmmmm Mmmmmm. Here are some of the pics:

remembering 3/3/4

March 3, 2004 was a busy busy day.

My old computer had become hopelessly bogged down and clogged. I had painstakingly researched the competing computer sellers. I had narrowed my choices to a list of stores and a list of 'must haves' for the next computer including which options and programs were vital to my needs. March 3rd was the day the computer would be purchased. It wasn't a magical day. It wasn't a check coming in the mail day. It was just the day we chose.

Then, my oldest daughter called. Her hubby was having surgery that day and needed to be transported. The surgery was outpatient. As I recall, it was a throat thing. So, we are to pick up Adam and take him to the surgery center, then go find a computer, then pick Adam back up, transport him home, and then go home and do all the hook-up. Simple.

The day progresses. Adam is transported one direction. Jubilation has turned to frustration as store after store cannot produce what they said they had on the phone. Finally, we find a place (Circuit City) that has more than we need for less than we expected to pay. Computer purchased.

All that is left in the home transportation for Adam, or so we thought.

Son-in-law #2 calls and Chas is delivering her first born. So now, it is load new computer, grab Adam, and head to the hospital to see Chas and the newest grandbaby. Like I said, a busy day.

The day ended with a better talking son-in-law, a better working computer, and the precious gift of Ian.

Happy Birthday, somewhat belated, Ian.
His party is this afternoon. I am sure pictures will follow.

Danger, Will Robinson, Danger

Being up this late, or this early, can't be a good thing, can it? Here are the ramblings:

In the madness

The façade holds
Though teetering slightly
Normalcy still clings
To its fragile perch
Excepting very late at night
Delving deeply into thought
The mind seems to find a path
Past the clutter of the days repast
The cares and needs of those around
Have quieted a bit in my head
Leaving room to hear the heart
Or perhaps
The sound of the madness
Finally heard above the haste
For what is love
but madness
What is passion
but a fever
To love passionately
Is to burn fervently
With madness
But not to burn only
But to revel in the flame
To feel that ardent heat
To smell that fiery stench
To hear that crackling
As it burns ... burns ... burns
And yet to embrace
To draw it closer
To pull it inside
To welcome that sweet death
That we call love
For true love means
To give to have
To throw out to hold
To die to live
To wait
In the heat
For that love to return
To want
And want nothing else
To yearn
For that smoky embrace
To wait
In the madness

Ron Simpson, Jr.
March 6, 2009

Where have all the hagglers gone?

TJ is happy. She has a new dryer. The old dryer croaked. We spent a few days looking for a good used dryer. We had a few possibles but they fell through. Our Pastor found us one for $100, but we had dealt with the guy before and a washer he sold my daughter went bad almost immediately. He eventually made it right, but it took a while. So, we were not real sure about that one.

We decided to go 'new' and get the warranty.

I checked around online, of course. I narrowed our choices to one of several models. Each of the models had mainly the same features. They were all heavy duty, super capacity, 3 temperature settings, 5 cycle, dryers.

The cheapest price we found was at Home Depot in Lexington. It was $29 cheaper than the one at Lowes. However, Lowes is in town, 5 minutes from the house and HD is 35 miles from here. I decided to go to Lowes and see if they would match the price. (They all claim that they do this.) I know how they hope to get away with not doing it, but it is ridiculous. They will claim it is not the exact same brand.

The dryer that HD had was exactly the same in features, size, and function as the one that Lowes had. Lowes was adamant that they could not come down $29 to met the HD price. "No problem," I said, "I will go to Lexington to buy a dryer."

OK, here is a buyer. He has already researched. He is not shopping. He has come to buy. You don't have to sell him on the idea of buying. He has decided. The only thing you have to do is sell him the dryer. All you have to do is say, "Yes." and he will give you money and take home a dryer. Nope, not gonna do it.

So, we drive to Lexington. I go into HD, walk back to appliances, tell them I want the dryer advertised for X amount of dollars. We walk over to where it is, and low and behold, it is on sale now for $60 less. Yipeeeee. When you factor in the $5 we spent on gas, we saved $90 by driving to Lexington.

I told the sales associate at Hd how the other stores refused to match. He said that HD used to do that as well, but now will match if the size, features, and function match. I am thinking HD will see much more of my business in the future. I will also be making a trip to Lowes tomorrow to let them know how well I did on my dryer that they refused to match. Thanks Lowes.

My questions is this: Where have all the good hagglers gone? I used to be able to haggle with sellers. I have haggled prices down at Wal-Mart. I have haggled prices down at Kroger. Seems now days, with the economy in the shape it is, selling something for $1 less is better then not selling it at all.

Haggle, haggle, haggle.

I'll give ya a dollar for that!

four little feet .. two heartbeats

"S" is pregnant.

She went to the doctor yesterday, where, they heard two different heartbeats.

The nurse, claiming it might be too early to see, did an ultrasound. She didn't get a clear picture, but said she could see feet.

How many, came the question.

I see four little feet, came the reply.

It seems, we might be talking twins here. The next visit will clarify.

creeping in

Illness has crept in ..

I woke last night around 1:30 with a sense of urgency. Since then there have been over a dozen trips of urgency. Sitting here now, my stomach is growling at me to make sure I remember it is there. Trust me. I know it is there.

In other news, I have an update on the drama issues of the other day.

According to "N" he returned to his base in Maryland and got permission to return here to help "S" move, which was great. She needed the help. He said his Dad bought him an airline ticket and he flew back. He was to return on Monday.

Monday comes, no return.

Tuesday comes, no return.

Tuesday, I call the base in Maryland. It seems "N" has been released from their base and is now attached to his new unit. He was supposed to have flown to his new assignment on February 23rd. As he did not do so, he has been considered AWOL since then. So, here I was on the 24th of February defending him, while he was lying to us all.

I called "S" to relay a message to him that he was AWOL (like he didn't know.) He denied it. "S" called the base in Maryland, put her phone on speaker, and the sergeant there confirmed it. "N" says that the Army is lying. WOW, what a great defense. During your court martial, you can whip out such stellar defense tactics as, "The Army is lying."

The Lt. I spoke to told me he was AWOL. The Sergeant told me he was AWOL. The Sergeant also told me he would not be considered a deserter until he was AWOL for 30 days. At that point, the Army would come find him. Find him, Heck, I told them exactly where he was. There is no way we are going to be considered aiding or abetting.

I called his dad. He was not surprised. He told us that he did not buy a plane ticket for "N". "N" never left Lexington any of the times he was supposed to do so, or claimed to do so. At one point he called collect, claiming to be at the Baltimore Airport, but the caller ID said he called from a payphone in Lexington KY. Of course, you guessed it, my caller ID was lying.

Ah, drama, drama, drama.

And me with a return to the bathroom. Urgent business, you know.

Obituary of Caring

Obituary of Caring

When caring dies
It will not be from a gaping wound
It will not be from a sudden gushing
It will not be a traumatic event
It will happen
From one small cut
Of a thousand thousand small cuts
The bleeding will be only slight
But one of those drops
Will carry the last of caring
That drop
Will be indistinguishable
From the rest of the blood
Leaving a drop at a time
It will pass mostly unnoticed
Until the next time caring is needed
And there is none to be found
The last of caring has gone
In its place a quiet malaise
The dull sorrow of human empathy
As one would feel for a hurting stranger
A disconnected concern
Try as one might the concern will not attach
It will not grow into caring
It will stand outside the heart
Its burden if any will be carried in the mind
Memory will provide a proper response
A dead act for a dead emotion
Empathy becomes apathy
Caring becomes concern
Sorrow becomes sadness
A shoulder becomes a place for tears
Rather than a place to share a burden
Without a place to reside
The reason is left behind
The pain leaves the mind
Nearly as soon as we walk away
There is no tether
There is no bond
Some day before today
Caring died

Ron Simpson, Jr.
March 1, 2009

bitter sweet

Today is a bitter sweet day. "S" moved into her own place yesterday. After living back with us for many months, she and Cloe have moved out. I admit that it is very difficult for two families to continuously peacefully exist in one household. There were moments of contention. We were not accustomed to the intrusions that having a 20 month old baby brings. "S" was not used to having to live within the parameters of her living here. She had limited freedoms to do as she pleased. So, yes, it was difficult.

That is not to say there were not advantages. "S" was a great help around here, especially after TJ surgery. Her help was invaluable. She cleaned, she did laundry, sometimes she even cooked supper when TJ just was not able to stand long enough to do it. We both appreciate her for all of that.

Then, there was the Cloe. It will be good to have my house back. It will be good to have peace and quiet. However, I will miss hearing Cloe 'escape' her moms eyes and sneaking her way upstairs. She would run into the sitting room with her arms extended, saying "Mommie, Mommie." Which was her way of seeking asylum from the Mommie that was on her way up the stair to recapture her. She would come up with her mom when she was allowed and she would purse those little lips and put the finger up and "shhhhh" so that she wouldn't wake up Mamaw (just in case she was sleeping.) I will miss the good night kisses. I will miss the fresh baby smell as she always visited right after her 'bafffff'. I will miss her running excitedly to my office chair anytime I was not in it, climbing into it, and looking for someone to 'weeeeee' her. She would spin around, saying "weeee", until she was glaze eyed and dizzy.

"S" and Cloe need their own space. They need their own place. "S" needs a place to be "S". Cloe needs a place to be Cloe.

So, last night was their first night at their new place. Cloe had her own 'wooom'.

Yes, it was sweet. It was a slightly bitter sweet.