Rodney Strange's Blog - Posts Tagged "rusty-goat"
My Social Experiment - The Results Are In
Some of you may remember my story from a couple of weeks ago, where I revealed I had decided it was time to change things up a bit. I thought I'd catch you up on how this 'furry chin' look is working out for me. Keep in mind that in all my half a century (and a bit more) on this planet, I had never allowed myself to miss a single day of shaving. Recent weeks have been a real adjustment for me. I've always been a George Strait kind of guy...starched wranglers, a button down shirt, topped off with a black hat and a clean shaven face. This hairy growth on the bottom of my chin has all but driven me stark raving mad...but has it improved the quality of my life. Oh, HELL YES!
In recent days I have walked by woman after woman and have actually heard their hearts flutter! No, I didn't make that up. I've had to go into hiding on the dating site just to get some peace. I walked by a woman at church last Sunday who turned around and commented, "Hey, you're getting that Tim McGraw look."
"Really?" I exclaimed as my eyes grew wide.
"Umm, maybe not so much now that I look at it..."
This growth has reached a point that I now must iniate a plan to maintain it. I find myself at a total loss. I asked the two woman behind the counter at the court house as I renewed my pickup tags,
"What color is this?" pointing at my goatee.
"Uh, gray?" questioned one.
"What color should it be?"
"Gray?" she shrugged.
"No! It cannot be gray. Maybe blonde or brown...or black?"
The other woman rolled her eyes, "Oh no...do not dye your beard. I hate it when men do that. You'd look like Robert Downey Jr. with a black beard."
"Really?"
"Um, not so much probably."
Just between me and you, I went to Walmart and bought some of that beard dye today. What do chicks that work at a court house know about beards!
By now some of you are thinking, 'What a conceited, egotistical, vain old goat...' Not so true and not vain in the least. The beard thing has been my 'social experiment,' a study of human interaction. It has, to say the least, blown me away at the difference a few chin whiskers has made in my interactions not only with people I meet, but people I have known for years. Why the difference? I have no clue. A friend I've known for nearly twenty years remarked the other day,
"I like the goatee. It makes you look noble."
"Noble?" I replied, "I was going for sort of a 'bad boy' look."
"Well, yeah...maybe a little Chuck Norris going on there."
"Chuck Norris now or Chuck Norris twenty years ago?"
'Look man, we're both dudes and this conversation is making me uneasy."
Remember Julie, the waitress at the diner downtown who lost control of herself a few weeks ago at the sight of my new beard?
"I'll admit, it makes you look sexy, but I still don't like it."
She then scurried away before I caught the sound of her heart fluttering.
Maybe you should consider a social experiment of your own. Perhaps that haircut you're still sporting from high school isn't cutting it any more. And women, just because you a grandma now doesn't really mean you have to look the part. Nothing turns the head of this old cowboy quicker than a hot, sexy woman of age. I have learned from this experiment that, while it is indeed a lasting impression we strive to achieve, it is a first impression we must dangle as bait.
So, my next big experiment: I read an article on the internet that claims we've all been wasting our money on expensive wrinkle creams and skin enhancers. This story claims that the very best way to combat wrinkles is generous applications of sunscreen, not just any sunscreen...Walmart brand sunscreen! I discovered an up side and a down side to this. The good news is, you smell like a lifeguard all day...and we all know how chicks dig lifeguards. The downside: You look like you slathered bacon grease all over your face before you came to work. I'll let you know how it works out!
In recent days I have walked by woman after woman and have actually heard their hearts flutter! No, I didn't make that up. I've had to go into hiding on the dating site just to get some peace. I walked by a woman at church last Sunday who turned around and commented, "Hey, you're getting that Tim McGraw look."
"Really?" I exclaimed as my eyes grew wide.
"Umm, maybe not so much now that I look at it..."
This growth has reached a point that I now must iniate a plan to maintain it. I find myself at a total loss. I asked the two woman behind the counter at the court house as I renewed my pickup tags,
"What color is this?" pointing at my goatee.
"Uh, gray?" questioned one.
"What color should it be?"
"Gray?" she shrugged.
"No! It cannot be gray. Maybe blonde or brown...or black?"
The other woman rolled her eyes, "Oh no...do not dye your beard. I hate it when men do that. You'd look like Robert Downey Jr. with a black beard."
"Really?"
"Um, not so much probably."
Just between me and you, I went to Walmart and bought some of that beard dye today. What do chicks that work at a court house know about beards!
By now some of you are thinking, 'What a conceited, egotistical, vain old goat...' Not so true and not vain in the least. The beard thing has been my 'social experiment,' a study of human interaction. It has, to say the least, blown me away at the difference a few chin whiskers has made in my interactions not only with people I meet, but people I have known for years. Why the difference? I have no clue. A friend I've known for nearly twenty years remarked the other day,
"I like the goatee. It makes you look noble."
"Noble?" I replied, "I was going for sort of a 'bad boy' look."
"Well, yeah...maybe a little Chuck Norris going on there."
"Chuck Norris now or Chuck Norris twenty years ago?"
'Look man, we're both dudes and this conversation is making me uneasy."
Remember Julie, the waitress at the diner downtown who lost control of herself a few weeks ago at the sight of my new beard?
"I'll admit, it makes you look sexy, but I still don't like it."
She then scurried away before I caught the sound of her heart fluttering.
Maybe you should consider a social experiment of your own. Perhaps that haircut you're still sporting from high school isn't cutting it any more. And women, just because you a grandma now doesn't really mean you have to look the part. Nothing turns the head of this old cowboy quicker than a hot, sexy woman of age. I have learned from this experiment that, while it is indeed a lasting impression we strive to achieve, it is a first impression we must dangle as bait.
So, my next big experiment: I read an article on the internet that claims we've all been wasting our money on expensive wrinkle creams and skin enhancers. This story claims that the very best way to combat wrinkles is generous applications of sunscreen, not just any sunscreen...Walmart brand sunscreen! I discovered an up side and a down side to this. The good news is, you smell like a lifeguard all day...and we all know how chicks dig lifeguards. The downside: You look like you slathered bacon grease all over your face before you came to work. I'll let you know how it works out!
'This Week We Look At Porn'
Whaddya mean, where's the pictures? No, we aren't going to look at porno pictures...we're going to talk about porn. Well, that got rid of most of you. I remember the very first time I caught a glimpse of a naked lady. Couldn't have been more than eight years old. I had carried an empty coke bottle the tenth of a mile to the feed store where they had a coke machine stocked with ice cold Coca Cola. I stepped inside and was greeted by the stares of numerous farmers gathered around a table playing dominoes, shyly ducked my head and scurried toward the coke box as I dug the dime my mom had given me out of my pocket. As I reached around the side of the box to place my empty bottle in the rack, my eyes caught sight of her...right there on the wall, wearing nothing but a smile. Yes boys and girls, Miss July was the very first woman who ever exposed herself to me. As you might guess, I became a dedicated coke drinker. Many of you don't remember a day when there was no internet, thus no internet porn. Us youngsters back in the day relied on National Geographic and the Sears and Roebuck catelog.
A few Sundays ago, the preacher touched on porn. He was on a roll preaching on various sexual sins when he hit on the topic. As the word 'porn' escaped his lips, I'd wager a full eighty percent of the men in the congregation shrunk to half their size, some even disappearing beneath the pews. A respectable number of women noticably shifted uneasily in their seats as well. Not me. I sat there staring directly at the pastor with a smile on my face...I'm single, you know. No, that isn't the only reason. I readily admit I have run across a few naughty pictures on the internet in the past, but I personally am not one to become infactuated with this obsession. Once I determined that it's all basically the same, and there wasn't nothing to learn that I hadn't already, I easily put that behind me. Sorta like golf...most everyone tries it at one time or another in their life...and most just don't see the point of it.
Back to the preacher...He continued, "Husbands, I have counciled your wives on this subject more than any other throughout my ministry, and if you could only understand the damage and devastation this causes in your marriage..." I might have dozed off momentarily because I'm single, you know. Then he caught my attention with this, "And wives..." He paused as if searching for the proper words, "You must understand that the male is a visual creature and..." He stopped in mid sentence, choosing not to continue. I knew exactly where he wanted to go...and no, I don't blame him for aborting the topic. As he uttered those words, my mind immediately flashed back to my ex-wife, an attractive woman. She left for work every morning looking her very best. But weekends...not so much. I can vividly see those horrid grey sweat pants, the holey faded red sweatshirt that were her attire every single weekend. Absolutely no makeup and her hair pulled onto the top of her head like a mop, waving from side to side as she shifted throughout the house. Her appearance was much like that of an old red hen...yes, a chicken. Sexy? She wasn't ringing my bell. I have to confess I was always a bit envious of her co-workers who had the pleasure of seeing her in a more appealing way. Yeah, I know...all the women are pissed off now, but hey, I might just accidently save a marriage.
What's so wrong with porn? Heck, what is the harm of prostitution, friends with benefits, and those creepy ads you just accidently run across in the personals section of Craig's List? Because folks, we are better than that. To lower our standards and our values to that level makes us inferior beings.
God made man and then woman with the intent for human companionship and love. He then gave an awesome gift to mankind, a genuine and bonding way to express love for each other. He gave us the ability to experience sexual pleasure as the ultimate expression of our love for our chosen mate. That was His plan. We chose to violate the plan. Out of all the sins mankind has dreamed up throughout history, our sexual sins have undoubtedly caused our God the most grief. In fact, it was the lust of sexual pleasure that forced God to destroy mankind at one point in time. That spell-binding story will be the topic of my next blog post. I'll bet most of you haven't heard the story the way I'm going to tell it!
A few Sundays ago, the preacher touched on porn. He was on a roll preaching on various sexual sins when he hit on the topic. As the word 'porn' escaped his lips, I'd wager a full eighty percent of the men in the congregation shrunk to half their size, some even disappearing beneath the pews. A respectable number of women noticably shifted uneasily in their seats as well. Not me. I sat there staring directly at the pastor with a smile on my face...I'm single, you know. No, that isn't the only reason. I readily admit I have run across a few naughty pictures on the internet in the past, but I personally am not one to become infactuated with this obsession. Once I determined that it's all basically the same, and there wasn't nothing to learn that I hadn't already, I easily put that behind me. Sorta like golf...most everyone tries it at one time or another in their life...and most just don't see the point of it.
Back to the preacher...He continued, "Husbands, I have counciled your wives on this subject more than any other throughout my ministry, and if you could only understand the damage and devastation this causes in your marriage..." I might have dozed off momentarily because I'm single, you know. Then he caught my attention with this, "And wives..." He paused as if searching for the proper words, "You must understand that the male is a visual creature and..." He stopped in mid sentence, choosing not to continue. I knew exactly where he wanted to go...and no, I don't blame him for aborting the topic. As he uttered those words, my mind immediately flashed back to my ex-wife, an attractive woman. She left for work every morning looking her very best. But weekends...not so much. I can vividly see those horrid grey sweat pants, the holey faded red sweatshirt that were her attire every single weekend. Absolutely no makeup and her hair pulled onto the top of her head like a mop, waving from side to side as she shifted throughout the house. Her appearance was much like that of an old red hen...yes, a chicken. Sexy? She wasn't ringing my bell. I have to confess I was always a bit envious of her co-workers who had the pleasure of seeing her in a more appealing way. Yeah, I know...all the women are pissed off now, but hey, I might just accidently save a marriage.
What's so wrong with porn? Heck, what is the harm of prostitution, friends with benefits, and those creepy ads you just accidently run across in the personals section of Craig's List? Because folks, we are better than that. To lower our standards and our values to that level makes us inferior beings.
God made man and then woman with the intent for human companionship and love. He then gave an awesome gift to mankind, a genuine and bonding way to express love for each other. He gave us the ability to experience sexual pleasure as the ultimate expression of our love for our chosen mate. That was His plan. We chose to violate the plan. Out of all the sins mankind has dreamed up throughout history, our sexual sins have undoubtedly caused our God the most grief. In fact, it was the lust of sexual pleasure that forced God to destroy mankind at one point in time. That spell-binding story will be the topic of my next blog post. I'll bet most of you haven't heard the story the way I'm going to tell it!
'My Week On The Island'
"Whaddya say we run up to the mountains for a few days?"
She pursed her lips and pondered it for a moment then replied, "I say we go to the beach!"
"Alrighty, let's go to Galveston..."
"Nu-uh, I vote Padre Island."
I'll be the first to confess that every since her appearance on this planet, my daughter has always held the tie breaking vote...and so, last week the two of us set out on a very long trek across Texas in search of the ends of the earth.
There's a few things I discovered along the way. You know that chick inside your iPhone that tells you how to get there? Yeah, she had no more clue where Padre was than I did, which I discovered about half way to Ft. Worth which is NOT on the way to Padre. I also discovered that the best roads in Texas are NOT between here and there...and I was forced to admit to myself that a ten hour drive is not as easy as it use to be for this old goat. Nevertheless, we found our feet planted in the sand on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico just as the sun began sinking in the western sky that evening.
After sleeping in the next morning and enjoying a delicious complimentary breakfast offered by the hotel (some of you laughed at that joke) we made a long drive back into Corpus Christi to buy a boogie board that my daughter informed me was a must for the beach. By noon we had settled into our fold-out chairs on the shores of Padre Island. While my daughter ventured into the ocean, I slathered emormous amounts of SPF 50 Walmart brand sunscreen on the parts of my body that had not seen sun in decades. (Think farmer tan.) Once I was again comfortably settled into my official Texas flag chair-in-a-bag, I began doing what I enjoy doing most...peple watching! For the first hour I was consumed with admiring this year's swimwear designs modeled by the numerous scantily clad young women who had joined us on the sandy beach. As my interest waned in swimwear, I began observing the more common folks along the beach. I watched intently as a young man worked diligently burying his girlfriend in the sand, carefully covering her entire body until only her head was exposed. My attention turned to my other side, where a very large man kneeled in the sand, concentrating on the hole he was digging with a play shovel. He would periodically drop the shovel and run into the water to scoop up a bright pink bucket of salt water to pour into his hole. I glanced back at the couple and watched the boyfriend carefully shape huge sand boobs onto his buried girlfriend, pausing from time to time to gently kiss her as he toiled to complete his task. I'd then glance back to the man with his shovel, wondering if he expected children to happen along or if perhaps he was just a child in a grown-ups body who wished to dig in the sand. As the afternoon wore on, I observed families frolicking in the sand and the surf, young lovers falling even more in love, and pelicans plunging into the waves in search of dinner. I found myself in a peaceful state of mind...and found my mind wandering.
This is how it was meant to be...humans enjoying life to it's fullest...with not a care in the world. Living and loving life and loving each other. It dawned on me that we...the human race messed this up for ourselves, at least our ancestors did. God had intended for every day of our lives to be carefree, spent enjoying the wonders He created solely for our pleasure. He had meant for us to soak up the beauties of our world and in turn thank Him for such a tremendous gift. But...there was the tree of Forbidden Fruit...and it changed our lives. We were sentenced as a species to toil for our very survival...and only briefly throughout our lives would we be allowed to experience what I had the blessing to witness on this beach. What my eyes saw was a quality of life that some will never have the fortune to experience. As the sun set and we folded our chairs up and began our trek through the sand, I took care to store the memories of this day away for the future.
In the pre-dawn hours the following morning, a fourteen year old girl quietly dressed and slipped out of her hotel room, carefully shutting the door so as not to wake her sleeping father. She trotted across toward the beach to fulfill an item on her bucket list...a simple jog on the beach at sunrise. When she reached the shore, she paused and stared in amazement. Not one single soul but her was present to witness the breath taking moment of a sun rising above the still early morning tide. She reached for her phone and snapped a picture to capture the event...this was God's moment on the beach.
She pursed her lips and pondered it for a moment then replied, "I say we go to the beach!"
"Alrighty, let's go to Galveston..."
"Nu-uh, I vote Padre Island."
I'll be the first to confess that every since her appearance on this planet, my daughter has always held the tie breaking vote...and so, last week the two of us set out on a very long trek across Texas in search of the ends of the earth.
There's a few things I discovered along the way. You know that chick inside your iPhone that tells you how to get there? Yeah, she had no more clue where Padre was than I did, which I discovered about half way to Ft. Worth which is NOT on the way to Padre. I also discovered that the best roads in Texas are NOT between here and there...and I was forced to admit to myself that a ten hour drive is not as easy as it use to be for this old goat. Nevertheless, we found our feet planted in the sand on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico just as the sun began sinking in the western sky that evening.
After sleeping in the next morning and enjoying a delicious complimentary breakfast offered by the hotel (some of you laughed at that joke) we made a long drive back into Corpus Christi to buy a boogie board that my daughter informed me was a must for the beach. By noon we had settled into our fold-out chairs on the shores of Padre Island. While my daughter ventured into the ocean, I slathered emormous amounts of SPF 50 Walmart brand sunscreen on the parts of my body that had not seen sun in decades. (Think farmer tan.) Once I was again comfortably settled into my official Texas flag chair-in-a-bag, I began doing what I enjoy doing most...peple watching! For the first hour I was consumed with admiring this year's swimwear designs modeled by the numerous scantily clad young women who had joined us on the sandy beach. As my interest waned in swimwear, I began observing the more common folks along the beach. I watched intently as a young man worked diligently burying his girlfriend in the sand, carefully covering her entire body until only her head was exposed. My attention turned to my other side, where a very large man kneeled in the sand, concentrating on the hole he was digging with a play shovel. He would periodically drop the shovel and run into the water to scoop up a bright pink bucket of salt water to pour into his hole. I glanced back at the couple and watched the boyfriend carefully shape huge sand boobs onto his buried girlfriend, pausing from time to time to gently kiss her as he toiled to complete his task. I'd then glance back to the man with his shovel, wondering if he expected children to happen along or if perhaps he was just a child in a grown-ups body who wished to dig in the sand. As the afternoon wore on, I observed families frolicking in the sand and the surf, young lovers falling even more in love, and pelicans plunging into the waves in search of dinner. I found myself in a peaceful state of mind...and found my mind wandering.
This is how it was meant to be...humans enjoying life to it's fullest...with not a care in the world. Living and loving life and loving each other. It dawned on me that we...the human race messed this up for ourselves, at least our ancestors did. God had intended for every day of our lives to be carefree, spent enjoying the wonders He created solely for our pleasure. He had meant for us to soak up the beauties of our world and in turn thank Him for such a tremendous gift. But...there was the tree of Forbidden Fruit...and it changed our lives. We were sentenced as a species to toil for our very survival...and only briefly throughout our lives would we be allowed to experience what I had the blessing to witness on this beach. What my eyes saw was a quality of life that some will never have the fortune to experience. As the sun set and we folded our chairs up and began our trek through the sand, I took care to store the memories of this day away for the future.
In the pre-dawn hours the following morning, a fourteen year old girl quietly dressed and slipped out of her hotel room, carefully shutting the door so as not to wake her sleeping father. She trotted across toward the beach to fulfill an item on her bucket list...a simple jog on the beach at sunrise. When she reached the shore, she paused and stared in amazement. Not one single soul but her was present to witness the breath taking moment of a sun rising above the still early morning tide. She reached for her phone and snapped a picture to capture the event...this was God's moment on the beach.
The Prophet Princess
Those of you who've been hanging around me for any length of time know that if I'm anything at all...I'm a story teller. I've been blessed throughout my life with so many rich and exciting experiences, and try as I might, I just can't resist sharing them with just about anyone who will listen. It was during the course of good conversation with a friend the other night that I ventured into an era of my life that I've not shared with too many people...perhaps with good reason. Some may find the tales bordering on the edge of 'hard to believe.' Believe it or not... I'm going to share a snippet from my adventures with 'the Prophet Princess.'
I had met her online through a mutual friend and we connected through Facebook. Eventually we began talking on the phone and I found this woman to be intriguing to say the least. She claimed to be a prophet...a messenger from God. I took most of her conversations with a grain of salt even though I found myself always looking forward to the next conversation. There was just something about her...
A knock came on my door one December evening in 2010. My eyes grew wide as I stared at a beautiful woman who smiled warmly as I invited her inside. I recognized her immediately as she greeted me and offered in an almost apologetic tone of voice,
"I hope you don't mind me coming to visit." She paused and stared at me with the most amazing pale blue eyes I'd ever seen, then continued, "God has sent me to talk to you..."
Not being a religious man, per say, I was taken aback at her announcement. Nevertheless I invited her into my living room, my mind abounding with curiosity.
Before I could open my mouth with some nonsensical ice breaker, she uttered a name..a woman's name, and continued, "She's important to you."
I shrugged and lied, "She's just a friend, a good friend."
"No, you want her to be more. You find yourself struggling with your feelings for her."
I cautiously confessed that perhaps I indeed had a crush and a secret wish that this friendship would evolve into something more.
The self proclaimed prophet laid her hand on mine and looked into my eyes, "I see her in your past. I see her in your present. God has placed her in your life for a purpose. When she has fulfilled that purpose, she will no longer be there."
The prophet princess then began telling me of things that would come into my life...trials and turmoils, heartbreaks and life changing events that would challenge my very existance. She ventured into the realm of good and evil, angels and demons, and how she found herself caught up in the very heat of battle between the two forces. She talked of events yet to come that would change the way we live our lives. She talked into the wee hours of the morning...and I listened, spellbound.
As she rose to leave, she placed a hand on my shoulder and offered her sympathy for the friendship I was destined to lose with this special friend. I shrugged and stated,
"It seems that God has something else in store for me... something that He wants me to do before He allows my life to move forward."
The prophet smiled warmly, "God does have a plan for you. He's waiting for you to ask Him what it is."
She then embraced me and a feeling of love that I'd never before experienced swept through my entire being. She then turned and was gone.
We continued to talk on the phone over the course of the next several months. As she had predicted, there were new and difficult challenges emerging in my life. She offered advice and always reminded me, "Ask God what His plan is..."
I received an urgent phone call from the prophet princess late in the night on March 10, 2011. She pleaded for me to pack a bag of essentials to tide me over for several days and keep it by the back door. She insisted that an earthquake of historic porportions would hit within twenty four hours and should it strike the United States, it would have a devastating effect on life as we know it. I did as I was told. It was the following morning that Japan was struck with a 9.0 magnitude earthquake...most of you remember the story.
The prophet princess and I lost contact soon after that. It seems the forces of evil forced her to disappear into the darkness without a goodbye. Whether she was all she claimed to be..I don't know. There was something... this I do know. At this point in my life, I choose to believe that God used her to get to me that night... prophet, angel, or just one mixed up hot chick... without a doubt, God used her as a compass point to set me in the right direction.
And so, I pass this along to you:
"God has sent me to talk to you. God does have a plan for you. He's waiting for you to ask Him what it is."
I had met her online through a mutual friend and we connected through Facebook. Eventually we began talking on the phone and I found this woman to be intriguing to say the least. She claimed to be a prophet...a messenger from God. I took most of her conversations with a grain of salt even though I found myself always looking forward to the next conversation. There was just something about her...
A knock came on my door one December evening in 2010. My eyes grew wide as I stared at a beautiful woman who smiled warmly as I invited her inside. I recognized her immediately as she greeted me and offered in an almost apologetic tone of voice,
"I hope you don't mind me coming to visit." She paused and stared at me with the most amazing pale blue eyes I'd ever seen, then continued, "God has sent me to talk to you..."
Not being a religious man, per say, I was taken aback at her announcement. Nevertheless I invited her into my living room, my mind abounding with curiosity.
Before I could open my mouth with some nonsensical ice breaker, she uttered a name..a woman's name, and continued, "She's important to you."
I shrugged and lied, "She's just a friend, a good friend."
"No, you want her to be more. You find yourself struggling with your feelings for her."
I cautiously confessed that perhaps I indeed had a crush and a secret wish that this friendship would evolve into something more.
The self proclaimed prophet laid her hand on mine and looked into my eyes, "I see her in your past. I see her in your present. God has placed her in your life for a purpose. When she has fulfilled that purpose, she will no longer be there."
The prophet princess then began telling me of things that would come into my life...trials and turmoils, heartbreaks and life changing events that would challenge my very existance. She ventured into the realm of good and evil, angels and demons, and how she found herself caught up in the very heat of battle between the two forces. She talked of events yet to come that would change the way we live our lives. She talked into the wee hours of the morning...and I listened, spellbound.
As she rose to leave, she placed a hand on my shoulder and offered her sympathy for the friendship I was destined to lose with this special friend. I shrugged and stated,
"It seems that God has something else in store for me... something that He wants me to do before He allows my life to move forward."
The prophet smiled warmly, "God does have a plan for you. He's waiting for you to ask Him what it is."
She then embraced me and a feeling of love that I'd never before experienced swept through my entire being. She then turned and was gone.
We continued to talk on the phone over the course of the next several months. As she had predicted, there were new and difficult challenges emerging in my life. She offered advice and always reminded me, "Ask God what His plan is..."
I received an urgent phone call from the prophet princess late in the night on March 10, 2011. She pleaded for me to pack a bag of essentials to tide me over for several days and keep it by the back door. She insisted that an earthquake of historic porportions would hit within twenty four hours and should it strike the United States, it would have a devastating effect on life as we know it. I did as I was told. It was the following morning that Japan was struck with a 9.0 magnitude earthquake...most of you remember the story.
The prophet princess and I lost contact soon after that. It seems the forces of evil forced her to disappear into the darkness without a goodbye. Whether she was all she claimed to be..I don't know. There was something... this I do know. At this point in my life, I choose to believe that God used her to get to me that night... prophet, angel, or just one mixed up hot chick... without a doubt, God used her as a compass point to set me in the right direction.
And so, I pass this along to you:
"God has sent me to talk to you. God does have a plan for you. He's waiting for you to ask Him what it is."
When A Dust Devil Blows Through Your Life...
Shortly after September 11, 2001...
I pressed the gas pedal to the floor as I passed the city limit sign, heading north. Along the highway burning Army jeeps, tanks, and transport trucks littered the landscape. I dodged the crators left by bombs dropped from aircraft only minutes earlier, trying to keep the pickup on the tattered roadway. The landscape around me was cluttered by countless fires and black smoke that plumed it's way into the darkened sky. I could see more bombs exploding ahead of me in the direction I was heading. My frantic mind tried to form some sort of plan of action...rather a reasonable reaction to what was occuring all around me as I sped toward my destination. The devastation seemed less intense as I reached open country and I clenched my teeth as determination to achieve my goal pushed me forward. As I neared the city some thirty minutes later, more destruction became evident...burning homes and barns, more destroyed Army vehicles...and the bombing. The deafening sounds seemed to shake the ground beneath my truck. When I reached a tiny suburb of the city, my eyes widened in horror. Thick smoke billowed through the air and the highway in front of me...disappeared. I swerved the vehicle into a ditch as my feet pressed the brake pedal to the floor. Before the truck came to a complete stop, I had leaped into the bed of the truck, shoving a four-wheeler out onto the ground with such force that only an over-dose of adrenaline could justify. I jumped onto the ATV and headed across country, dodging smouldering crators as enemy aircraft flew overhead. My destination: The buring city before me. My mission: To save my young daughter.
I awoke from the dream in a sweat, panting heavily, my heart pounding in my chest. It would prove to be the dream that never left my memory.
A few Days ago...
I reached for my phone and viewed the incoming text. It read simply, "Daddy, I need you!"
I leaped in my pickup and headed north. As I entered the city limits of my small community, I came to a screeching halt. A road construction project had traffic backed up as if I had entered the Los Angeles Freeway. I sat at a dead standstill for a few seconds, then swerved into the McDonalds parking lot, hitting a side street that would take me out of town. As I passed the north city limt sign, my eyes caught sight of a funeral procession ahead of me. My foot hit the brake as I turned the vehicle onto a county road. I gave the truck free rein as it sped toward the city forty miles away. The miles and the minutes seemed to tick by in slow motion as my mind raced. My eyes focused on a west Texas dust devil spinning through a cotton field up ahead, a common sight in this part of the country. The day was near perfect, not so hot for Texas in September, not a breeze, not a cloud in the sky. Yet this phenomena, a 'dust-nado' as the weatherman would call it, bounced haphazardly through the landscape, kicking up dust and swirling debris high into the sky, in effect disrupting a perfect late summer afternoon for anything or anyone caught in it's path as it spun out of control. I pondered the mystery and a thought stuck in my mind. As of late, my life has been good...near perfect as life can get, I suppose. With this unexpected text from my child, a dust devil has suddenly appeared, it's spiraling wind of change threatening someone so dear to my heart. My mind wondered if this unexpected 'dust-nado' would pass only briefly through her life, or would it leave a trail of destruction.
As I reached the outer edges of the city, I found myself at a crawl as a combination of more road construction and rush hour traffic hampered my progress. The dream from long ago passed through my mind and I bit my lip, wishing I had a four-wheeler in the bed of my truck. Finally, I pulled up in front of my daughter's house and made the few quick steps to her door. Seconds later, I held her in my arms as I whispered, with the reassurance that only a father can give, "I'm here..."
As we pass the twelvth anniversary of 9/11, our memory of that horrific event in New York city becomes dim in our minds. Sure, we will all take a moment sometime during the day to stop and remember. But let's not forget that there are tragedies and devastation in lives everyday. Every single minute of every single day someone experiences a life changing event...a dust devil that swoops down for nowhere completely unexpected...and changes a life forever.
When events of tragic proportions blow through your life, or the life of one you love, never forget there is Someone who stands ready to wrap His arms around you and whisper, with the reassurance that only a Father can give, "I'm here..." God is always just one prayer away from coming to get you through the dust devils that blow through your life.
I pressed the gas pedal to the floor as I passed the city limit sign, heading north. Along the highway burning Army jeeps, tanks, and transport trucks littered the landscape. I dodged the crators left by bombs dropped from aircraft only minutes earlier, trying to keep the pickup on the tattered roadway. The landscape around me was cluttered by countless fires and black smoke that plumed it's way into the darkened sky. I could see more bombs exploding ahead of me in the direction I was heading. My frantic mind tried to form some sort of plan of action...rather a reasonable reaction to what was occuring all around me as I sped toward my destination. The devastation seemed less intense as I reached open country and I clenched my teeth as determination to achieve my goal pushed me forward. As I neared the city some thirty minutes later, more destruction became evident...burning homes and barns, more destroyed Army vehicles...and the bombing. The deafening sounds seemed to shake the ground beneath my truck. When I reached a tiny suburb of the city, my eyes widened in horror. Thick smoke billowed through the air and the highway in front of me...disappeared. I swerved the vehicle into a ditch as my feet pressed the brake pedal to the floor. Before the truck came to a complete stop, I had leaped into the bed of the truck, shoving a four-wheeler out onto the ground with such force that only an over-dose of adrenaline could justify. I jumped onto the ATV and headed across country, dodging smouldering crators as enemy aircraft flew overhead. My destination: The buring city before me. My mission: To save my young daughter.
I awoke from the dream in a sweat, panting heavily, my heart pounding in my chest. It would prove to be the dream that never left my memory.
A few Days ago...
I reached for my phone and viewed the incoming text. It read simply, "Daddy, I need you!"
I leaped in my pickup and headed north. As I entered the city limits of my small community, I came to a screeching halt. A road construction project had traffic backed up as if I had entered the Los Angeles Freeway. I sat at a dead standstill for a few seconds, then swerved into the McDonalds parking lot, hitting a side street that would take me out of town. As I passed the north city limt sign, my eyes caught sight of a funeral procession ahead of me. My foot hit the brake as I turned the vehicle onto a county road. I gave the truck free rein as it sped toward the city forty miles away. The miles and the minutes seemed to tick by in slow motion as my mind raced. My eyes focused on a west Texas dust devil spinning through a cotton field up ahead, a common sight in this part of the country. The day was near perfect, not so hot for Texas in September, not a breeze, not a cloud in the sky. Yet this phenomena, a 'dust-nado' as the weatherman would call it, bounced haphazardly through the landscape, kicking up dust and swirling debris high into the sky, in effect disrupting a perfect late summer afternoon for anything or anyone caught in it's path as it spun out of control. I pondered the mystery and a thought stuck in my mind. As of late, my life has been good...near perfect as life can get, I suppose. With this unexpected text from my child, a dust devil has suddenly appeared, it's spiraling wind of change threatening someone so dear to my heart. My mind wondered if this unexpected 'dust-nado' would pass only briefly through her life, or would it leave a trail of destruction.
As I reached the outer edges of the city, I found myself at a crawl as a combination of more road construction and rush hour traffic hampered my progress. The dream from long ago passed through my mind and I bit my lip, wishing I had a four-wheeler in the bed of my truck. Finally, I pulled up in front of my daughter's house and made the few quick steps to her door. Seconds later, I held her in my arms as I whispered, with the reassurance that only a father can give, "I'm here..."
As we pass the twelvth anniversary of 9/11, our memory of that horrific event in New York city becomes dim in our minds. Sure, we will all take a moment sometime during the day to stop and remember. But let's not forget that there are tragedies and devastation in lives everyday. Every single minute of every single day someone experiences a life changing event...a dust devil that swoops down for nowhere completely unexpected...and changes a life forever.
When events of tragic proportions blow through your life, or the life of one you love, never forget there is Someone who stands ready to wrap His arms around you and whisper, with the reassurance that only a Father can give, "I'm here..." God is always just one prayer away from coming to get you through the dust devils that blow through your life.
'Where Did You Hide The Money Honey'
I read on Time.com that somewhere around 44% of all husbands hide money from their wives. Well, I don't blame them...and there goes 50% of my reader fan base. So, now that it's just us guys...y'all know what I mean, don't you! Sure, sweetie has her own job and her own money. We all know what's hers is hers and when it's gone, what's yours is hers. And that's just the way it is.
I'm not looking for a fight here. I don't recall whether the author of the articIe I read was male or female, but I'd bet on the latter. It was a man-slamming piece intended to enlighten women to the fact that we men are holding out on them. In fact, in a follow up article, our wives are tipped off to the revelation that 23% of husbands actually have a secret bank account, which from my point of view seems to be a smart move if we're going to hide our money from our wives in a secure manner. I do know of one man who just hides his money in the drawer his wife keeps her sexy lingerie in. He says he's done it for years and she's yet to find it.
We of the male gender are non-aggressive people. We really don't like confrontation especially with the opposite sex for there is no such thing as winning with them. It should be simple..
."Honey, this hundred dollar bill is mine. I worked hard for it all week. You can have the rest of my paycheck to do whatever you want with it....deal?"
Now come on guys, you know how that's going to go down. All that did was set the wheels in motion. She won't say anything but she's thinking it. Now she's convincing herself that you have a girlfriend on the side. A hundred bucks would buy your girlfriend some flowers...and lunch. Yep, you're probably spending your lunch hours with the new chick down in Human Resources. You sorry dog!
In reality, your wife's birthday is next month and you know how difficult it is to put back a little cash for her special day. If you could just stash a few twenties back from a paycheck or two, you could really surprise her with a steak from her favorite restaurant and maybe get her those diamond earrings she's been wanting. For deep down in your heart, you yearn to show her how much you love her.
Meanwhile, she is plotting your demise! How dare you so blantently take a hundred dollars of your own money! Yes, she is convinced you are cheating on her! She'll show you, buddy boy! When she's through with you, she'll have the house, the Subarban, and you'll be paying child support for decades! And so to avoid all that you do what I would do. You slip a few bills out here and there and tuck them away. You don't tell her and pray she doesn't find out, for there will surely be hell to pay. It's so much easier keeping it a secret, right?
I had a wife once...well, I've had more than one. But this particular wife (shudder) was the one who taught me a thing or two. For instance...how to hide money and yes, even open up a secret account to keep it in. This wife really liked money! I couldn't tell seeing how we never had any. It all started about this time of year, back in 1992, I think it was. It was a Friday evening and after supper, I decided I'd set down and start preparing my tax return. I gathered the necessary stuff together and stacked them on the dining table, hunted down my solar powered calculator, and stood staring at the task awaiting me. Glancing over at my wife, who was doing the dishes, I announced,
"Honey, I think I might run and get a six pack of beer before I start this."
She froze, her eyes staring straight ahead, in thought.
"Oh, I don't know if that's a good idea. This week is going to be pretty tight with the money. It would run us short."
I stared down at the W-2 form laying on the table...A hundred thousand and change in 1991. Back in '92 that was like a quarter million, right? My mind pondered the fact that it was Friday...payday...and we couldn't afford a three dollar six pack of beer?
So over the course of the next few days I started snooping and discovered I had credit cards I never knew I had. Every credit card known to man! Sears, J C Penny, Discover (gasp!) and of course the typical Visas and Mastercards. I also discovered most were overdue. In the course of my investigation, I'd occasionally gander around the house in search of a clue as to where the money was going. Nope, no clues. Perhaps she was hiding money from me?
Over two decades later I still don't have the answer. But within a week of my discovery back in '92 I had opened a secret bank account and began socking away my bonuses and every other spare dime I came across. Over the course of the next year I accumulated an impressive nest egg in spite of my wife's addiction to spending. To make a long story short, I kicked the wife to the curb a year or so later, paid off all her debts...and as luck would have it, wound up with another wife. But this time it was different. I made it clear to her up front that if we were going to get in it for the long haul, there'd be a few rules, number one: My money was my money and her money was her money, and if she ran out of her money, my money was not her money. Believe it or not, everything rocked along exceptionally well financially. Not once did we squabble about money. And we lived happily ever after for seven years...The End
I'm not looking for a fight here. I don't recall whether the author of the articIe I read was male or female, but I'd bet on the latter. It was a man-slamming piece intended to enlighten women to the fact that we men are holding out on them. In fact, in a follow up article, our wives are tipped off to the revelation that 23% of husbands actually have a secret bank account, which from my point of view seems to be a smart move if we're going to hide our money from our wives in a secure manner. I do know of one man who just hides his money in the drawer his wife keeps her sexy lingerie in. He says he's done it for years and she's yet to find it.
We of the male gender are non-aggressive people. We really don't like confrontation especially with the opposite sex for there is no such thing as winning with them. It should be simple..
."Honey, this hundred dollar bill is mine. I worked hard for it all week. You can have the rest of my paycheck to do whatever you want with it....deal?"
Now come on guys, you know how that's going to go down. All that did was set the wheels in motion. She won't say anything but she's thinking it. Now she's convincing herself that you have a girlfriend on the side. A hundred bucks would buy your girlfriend some flowers...and lunch. Yep, you're probably spending your lunch hours with the new chick down in Human Resources. You sorry dog!
In reality, your wife's birthday is next month and you know how difficult it is to put back a little cash for her special day. If you could just stash a few twenties back from a paycheck or two, you could really surprise her with a steak from her favorite restaurant and maybe get her those diamond earrings she's been wanting. For deep down in your heart, you yearn to show her how much you love her.
Meanwhile, she is plotting your demise! How dare you so blantently take a hundred dollars of your own money! Yes, she is convinced you are cheating on her! She'll show you, buddy boy! When she's through with you, she'll have the house, the Subarban, and you'll be paying child support for decades! And so to avoid all that you do what I would do. You slip a few bills out here and there and tuck them away. You don't tell her and pray she doesn't find out, for there will surely be hell to pay. It's so much easier keeping it a secret, right?
I had a wife once...well, I've had more than one. But this particular wife (shudder) was the one who taught me a thing or two. For instance...how to hide money and yes, even open up a secret account to keep it in. This wife really liked money! I couldn't tell seeing how we never had any. It all started about this time of year, back in 1992, I think it was. It was a Friday evening and after supper, I decided I'd set down and start preparing my tax return. I gathered the necessary stuff together and stacked them on the dining table, hunted down my solar powered calculator, and stood staring at the task awaiting me. Glancing over at my wife, who was doing the dishes, I announced,
"Honey, I think I might run and get a six pack of beer before I start this."
She froze, her eyes staring straight ahead, in thought.
"Oh, I don't know if that's a good idea. This week is going to be pretty tight with the money. It would run us short."
I stared down at the W-2 form laying on the table...A hundred thousand and change in 1991. Back in '92 that was like a quarter million, right? My mind pondered the fact that it was Friday...payday...and we couldn't afford a three dollar six pack of beer?
So over the course of the next few days I started snooping and discovered I had credit cards I never knew I had. Every credit card known to man! Sears, J C Penny, Discover (gasp!) and of course the typical Visas and Mastercards. I also discovered most were overdue. In the course of my investigation, I'd occasionally gander around the house in search of a clue as to where the money was going. Nope, no clues. Perhaps she was hiding money from me?
Over two decades later I still don't have the answer. But within a week of my discovery back in '92 I had opened a secret bank account and began socking away my bonuses and every other spare dime I came across. Over the course of the next year I accumulated an impressive nest egg in spite of my wife's addiction to spending. To make a long story short, I kicked the wife to the curb a year or so later, paid off all her debts...and as luck would have it, wound up with another wife. But this time it was different. I made it clear to her up front that if we were going to get in it for the long haul, there'd be a few rules, number one: My money was my money and her money was her money, and if she ran out of her money, my money was not her money. Believe it or not, everything rocked along exceptionally well financially. Not once did we squabble about money. And we lived happily ever after for seven years...The End
'Chucky Chicken Sees Fifty Shades'
Old Freddy Farmer stepped out of his old Chevy pickup, pulling his cap down lower across his brow to shield his head from the icy wind that seemed to blow right through him. Tugging at the shoulder straps of his baggy overalls, he reached across the seat and gently picked up his pet rooster, Chucky Chicken. Tucking the bird securely under his arm, he then scurried across the parking lot toward the movie theater, glancing up at the marquee. "Fifty Shades of Gray,' it read.
He eagerly approached the ticket window and announced, "Ticket for one, please!"
The woman behind the glass spotted the chicken he cradled and tartly responded, "Sir, we do not allow chickens in our movie theater!"
Dishearted, Freddy Farmer turned slowly away, then a bright idea popped into his head. Stepping around the corner and out of sight, he stuffed Chucky Chicken into his over sized overalls and with a smile returned to purchase his ticket. Once in the darkened theater, he seated himself beside two elderly women and anxiously waited for the movie to start. As the opening credits began to roll, Chucky Chicken began to stir inside Freddy Farmer's overalls. Fearing he'd be discovered and forced to leave, Freddy unzipped his fly to allow Chucky to stick his head out. The pet rooster settled down and Freddy became engrossed in the movie.
Directly, the old woman sitting next to Freddy elbowed her companion and whispered in her ear,
"That old man next to me has unzipped his pants," She lowered her voice even more and finished her sentence, "and well, it's just sticking straight out!"
Her friend peaked over in the darkness trying to see and responded, "Oh lordy Mable, just ignore him. At our age, we've seen it all anyway."
"No, you don't understand! It's eating my popcorn!"
Yeah I couldn't resist sharing that joke with you. From what I've heard, 'Fifty Shades' is little more than a joke anyway. No, I won't see it. I have no desire. But, as gross as the image of a man entering a theater alone, seating himself next to a complete stranger, female nonetheless, to view this sexcapade, it's pale in comparison to what many of you have already done. You took someone with you and sat there to watch it!
Hells Bells! Would you take someone to see 'Fifty Shades' on a first date? I suppose you'd get an idea of what they're made of. Reminds me of a first date with some little redheaded school teacher some years back. It was some Cameron Diaz movie, nothing nearly as raunchy as this, but OMG! I tried numerous times to crawl under the seats and hide...I literally covered my eyes once or twice. No, we didn't have a second date. I'm sorry but if I had a wife, I can't imagine taking her to see this movie, especially on Valentines Day! Going home and cozying up beneath the covers after seeing all those ropes and duct tape...and whips. Talk about pressure! Alright, call me old fashioned. Stick in the mud, I am.
I don't have cable...no HBO or Skinamax. Porn, and mind you I'm single and allowed, is not for me. This movie isn't even porn. It's sick, twisted, deviant behavior. Those of you who went to see this movie...some of you think we need to outlaw guns, because guns kill people. What does stuff like this do? I suppose we'll find out. Watch it on the evening news.
I know girls, you loved the book. Pure fantasy that took you places you'd never go in real life. There are people who will go there, whether you want them to or not. Heck, I could probably write something like that. Sure wouldn't put my name on it. Wouldn't lay my head on my pillow at night with a clear conscious. Wouldn't want my kids or my mom to know I wrote it. Sure wouldn't want my God to know!
How have we come to this point in history where we allow this trash to become mainstream? Not just that...it's busting records. A bazillion bucks will be made! But, not so long ago, one would have to slither over to the seedy side of town to see this. You'd have to sit next to some shaggy, skuzzy fiend wearing nothing but a trenchcoat..and no, that ain't a chicken he's holding in his hand. You sure as shootin' wouldn't have taken your wife. And you probably wouldn't have wanted your daughter to see it.
I'm not a prude. I've seen more of Miley Cyrus than I ever thought I would and no I didn't cover my eyes. I can sin with the best and the rest of the Southern Baptists. I can be a bad boy. Temptation gets the best of me sometimes. I have turned my head to watch some woman jiggle past me. I'll do it again. But to pay nine bucks to see a poorly written novel turned into a poorly made movie just for the shock value of it all...that's not me. I have to answer to my Maker, and I'd sure have to search long and hard for the answer to 'Why?' On the upside...Spongebob Squarepants Movie!
He eagerly approached the ticket window and announced, "Ticket for one, please!"
The woman behind the glass spotted the chicken he cradled and tartly responded, "Sir, we do not allow chickens in our movie theater!"
Dishearted, Freddy Farmer turned slowly away, then a bright idea popped into his head. Stepping around the corner and out of sight, he stuffed Chucky Chicken into his over sized overalls and with a smile returned to purchase his ticket. Once in the darkened theater, he seated himself beside two elderly women and anxiously waited for the movie to start. As the opening credits began to roll, Chucky Chicken began to stir inside Freddy Farmer's overalls. Fearing he'd be discovered and forced to leave, Freddy unzipped his fly to allow Chucky to stick his head out. The pet rooster settled down and Freddy became engrossed in the movie.
Directly, the old woman sitting next to Freddy elbowed her companion and whispered in her ear,
"That old man next to me has unzipped his pants," She lowered her voice even more and finished her sentence, "and well, it's just sticking straight out!"
Her friend peaked over in the darkness trying to see and responded, "Oh lordy Mable, just ignore him. At our age, we've seen it all anyway."
"No, you don't understand! It's eating my popcorn!"
Yeah I couldn't resist sharing that joke with you. From what I've heard, 'Fifty Shades' is little more than a joke anyway. No, I won't see it. I have no desire. But, as gross as the image of a man entering a theater alone, seating himself next to a complete stranger, female nonetheless, to view this sexcapade, it's pale in comparison to what many of you have already done. You took someone with you and sat there to watch it!
Hells Bells! Would you take someone to see 'Fifty Shades' on a first date? I suppose you'd get an idea of what they're made of. Reminds me of a first date with some little redheaded school teacher some years back. It was some Cameron Diaz movie, nothing nearly as raunchy as this, but OMG! I tried numerous times to crawl under the seats and hide...I literally covered my eyes once or twice. No, we didn't have a second date. I'm sorry but if I had a wife, I can't imagine taking her to see this movie, especially on Valentines Day! Going home and cozying up beneath the covers after seeing all those ropes and duct tape...and whips. Talk about pressure! Alright, call me old fashioned. Stick in the mud, I am.
I don't have cable...no HBO or Skinamax. Porn, and mind you I'm single and allowed, is not for me. This movie isn't even porn. It's sick, twisted, deviant behavior. Those of you who went to see this movie...some of you think we need to outlaw guns, because guns kill people. What does stuff like this do? I suppose we'll find out. Watch it on the evening news.
I know girls, you loved the book. Pure fantasy that took you places you'd never go in real life. There are people who will go there, whether you want them to or not. Heck, I could probably write something like that. Sure wouldn't put my name on it. Wouldn't lay my head on my pillow at night with a clear conscious. Wouldn't want my kids or my mom to know I wrote it. Sure wouldn't want my God to know!
How have we come to this point in history where we allow this trash to become mainstream? Not just that...it's busting records. A bazillion bucks will be made! But, not so long ago, one would have to slither over to the seedy side of town to see this. You'd have to sit next to some shaggy, skuzzy fiend wearing nothing but a trenchcoat..and no, that ain't a chicken he's holding in his hand. You sure as shootin' wouldn't have taken your wife. And you probably wouldn't have wanted your daughter to see it.
I'm not a prude. I've seen more of Miley Cyrus than I ever thought I would and no I didn't cover my eyes. I can sin with the best and the rest of the Southern Baptists. I can be a bad boy. Temptation gets the best of me sometimes. I have turned my head to watch some woman jiggle past me. I'll do it again. But to pay nine bucks to see a poorly written novel turned into a poorly made movie just for the shock value of it all...that's not me. I have to answer to my Maker, and I'd sure have to search long and hard for the answer to 'Why?' On the upside...Spongebob Squarepants Movie!
'No Wooden Fences'
"Steerike three! Youuuur out!" The umpire threw his finger over his shoulder as umpires are paid to do and the pony tailed high schooler clad in a uniform worthy of a power ranger slumped her shoulders and made her way toward the dugout.
It was an unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon and I adjusted my sunglasses and smiled. I glanced toward my daughter, manning her station in the outfield, ready to pounce on the next softball that ventured her way. Yes, life is good, I thought to myself. It really doesn't get much better than this.
This is what we do out here in Po-dunkville, Texas. We live the simple life. You folks up there in the city wouldn't understand. In fact, you forcefully tell us so. There's no mall in your tiny town...nary a Starbucks, they remind us! Not hundreds of miles of city streets to escape to, mangled with thousands of cars containing tens of thousands of city people on a mission to discover something to spend their time and money on. Only rarely will the city folks opt to stay home in their quarter-million dollar homes, perhaps venturing out into a minuscule back yard once or twice a summer to cook a steak on their propane grill. I don't blame them. I attended a cookout a friend invited me to up in the city once. Twenty people crowded into a back yard about the size of my bathroom, each taking a seat in those fancy chair-in-a-bag chairs and while they seemed to be be enjoying themselves, drinking beer and chatting about what city folks chat about, I stared at the six foot high wooden fence the whole time...wondering, just wondering...mostly about what was on the other side of that fence. It finally got to me and I wandered toward the gate and opened it, then returned to my chair-in-a-bag. The crowd grew quiet, staring my direction. Whispers floated through the air as people shot me side-glances as if I might be someone they might want to keep their eye on. Finally I spoke sheepishly,
"It was getting a little stuffy in here."
My friend laughed and announced to the group, "Just overlook him. He's not from around here!"
Well, I thank God for that! It was just a year ago that I had seriously considered moving to the city. I had thought it through for months and became convinced that perhaps it was time for a change. I had talked myself into the idea that I would be comfortable enough in an apartment somewhere in the depths of a bustling metropolis. A single man I am, free as a feather in the wind! Why heck! I could become a regular at Starbucks, sitting and sipping...well, I don't remember what it's called since I only hit Starbucks about twice a year. I'd probably have lots of time to write lots of books up there in the city. I wouldn't have grass to mow. Wouldn't have grass to look at, matter of fact. Yes, it almost happened...until...
God didn't have the same plans for me. In the blink of an eye, my plans changed and it became clear that I'd just have to stay right here in Po-dunkville. As it became crystal clear that I was destined to stay a small town boy, I began to look at my surroundings with a fresh set of eyes. I realized I could see pretty well here since there were no six foot wooden fences blocking my view. For the first time in a very long time, I realized I have been blessed all my life with the opportunity to live in a small rural community and all it has to offer.
It'd be hard for me to make you understand the difference between small town life and city life. Well yes, I have a general idea what city life is like. I think city folks probably waste a large part of their life waiting for the light to change. I mean that literally, as in there sure are lots of traffic lights in the city. We have two...maybe three...and they blink yellow after dark. There's more to it. We not only know each other...we care about each other. We have history with each other. We've sat together on cold steel bleachers watching our kids play ball. We bump into each other at weddings and funerals, and at church. Yes, we've prayed together and probably drank a beer together at one time or another.
Just the other night my daughter and I stepped into my favorite BBQ place in town and, barely inside the door, my eyes grew wide as I spotted a woman I had a few dates with once upon a time...waiting tables! No, our dating adventure didn't end badly, but it did end and some women hold a grudge about such things. But you know what the cool thing was? Not only did I know...and that waitress know...everybody else in there knew we had dated, and by gosh, that's what small towns are all about! I was getting texts while I dined on succulent barbecued brisket...from the staff giving me the heads up on this woman's schedule. Now I know when I can go eat barbecue without worrying about bumping into her. See, folks in small towns got your back!
Out here in Po-dunk, Texas, there are no fences to hold us back and very few red lights to slow us down on our quest to live life to the fullest! And heck...I have another softball game to go to. Just got a text from somebody that said the coast is clear...no old girlfriends in the bleachers!
It was an unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon and I adjusted my sunglasses and smiled. I glanced toward my daughter, manning her station in the outfield, ready to pounce on the next softball that ventured her way. Yes, life is good, I thought to myself. It really doesn't get much better than this.
This is what we do out here in Po-dunkville, Texas. We live the simple life. You folks up there in the city wouldn't understand. In fact, you forcefully tell us so. There's no mall in your tiny town...nary a Starbucks, they remind us! Not hundreds of miles of city streets to escape to, mangled with thousands of cars containing tens of thousands of city people on a mission to discover something to spend their time and money on. Only rarely will the city folks opt to stay home in their quarter-million dollar homes, perhaps venturing out into a minuscule back yard once or twice a summer to cook a steak on their propane grill. I don't blame them. I attended a cookout a friend invited me to up in the city once. Twenty people crowded into a back yard about the size of my bathroom, each taking a seat in those fancy chair-in-a-bag chairs and while they seemed to be be enjoying themselves, drinking beer and chatting about what city folks chat about, I stared at the six foot high wooden fence the whole time...wondering, just wondering...mostly about what was on the other side of that fence. It finally got to me and I wandered toward the gate and opened it, then returned to my chair-in-a-bag. The crowd grew quiet, staring my direction. Whispers floated through the air as people shot me side-glances as if I might be someone they might want to keep their eye on. Finally I spoke sheepishly,
"It was getting a little stuffy in here."
My friend laughed and announced to the group, "Just overlook him. He's not from around here!"
Well, I thank God for that! It was just a year ago that I had seriously considered moving to the city. I had thought it through for months and became convinced that perhaps it was time for a change. I had talked myself into the idea that I would be comfortable enough in an apartment somewhere in the depths of a bustling metropolis. A single man I am, free as a feather in the wind! Why heck! I could become a regular at Starbucks, sitting and sipping...well, I don't remember what it's called since I only hit Starbucks about twice a year. I'd probably have lots of time to write lots of books up there in the city. I wouldn't have grass to mow. Wouldn't have grass to look at, matter of fact. Yes, it almost happened...until...
God didn't have the same plans for me. In the blink of an eye, my plans changed and it became clear that I'd just have to stay right here in Po-dunkville. As it became crystal clear that I was destined to stay a small town boy, I began to look at my surroundings with a fresh set of eyes. I realized I could see pretty well here since there were no six foot wooden fences blocking my view. For the first time in a very long time, I realized I have been blessed all my life with the opportunity to live in a small rural community and all it has to offer.
It'd be hard for me to make you understand the difference between small town life and city life. Well yes, I have a general idea what city life is like. I think city folks probably waste a large part of their life waiting for the light to change. I mean that literally, as in there sure are lots of traffic lights in the city. We have two...maybe three...and they blink yellow after dark. There's more to it. We not only know each other...we care about each other. We have history with each other. We've sat together on cold steel bleachers watching our kids play ball. We bump into each other at weddings and funerals, and at church. Yes, we've prayed together and probably drank a beer together at one time or another.
Just the other night my daughter and I stepped into my favorite BBQ place in town and, barely inside the door, my eyes grew wide as I spotted a woman I had a few dates with once upon a time...waiting tables! No, our dating adventure didn't end badly, but it did end and some women hold a grudge about such things. But you know what the cool thing was? Not only did I know...and that waitress know...everybody else in there knew we had dated, and by gosh, that's what small towns are all about! I was getting texts while I dined on succulent barbecued brisket...from the staff giving me the heads up on this woman's schedule. Now I know when I can go eat barbecue without worrying about bumping into her. See, folks in small towns got your back!
Out here in Po-dunk, Texas, there are no fences to hold us back and very few red lights to slow us down on our quest to live life to the fullest! And heck...I have another softball game to go to. Just got a text from somebody that said the coast is clear...no old girlfriends in the bleachers!
Targeted in Po-dunk, Texas
There has been a flurry of reports passing across my Facebook page the past week and I think I should warn you about this activity. Some of my local friends and a host of other folks in our little po-dunk town raised alarm throughout the community when they began noticing their fences bearing an unfamiliar mark on the back gates leading into their alleys. Each marking was identical, an 'X' spray painted with gold paint. As they began to virtually discuss this amongst themselves on Facebook, more and more people joined in with their theories. Some declared that back yards that were home to family dogs were being targeted by low life types who would eventually return to steal Fido.. According to those in the loop, it was common practice to train fighting pit bulls with non-aggressive family pets. Numerous locals were up in arms at the thought of their dogs being maimed, tortured, and left to die an agonizing death. The momentum continued to escalate for several days until someone ventured along to discredit this theory.
No, they announced, it was not the family pet that was being targeted. In fact, a ring of thieves were setting up plans to raid numerous homes while the inhabitants were away, stealing everything that wasn't nailed down. They knew it was gospel truth as Fox News had aired a story about this identical method of operation somewhere over in New Mexico. Well, the group, which had now mushroomed into the hundreds, began plotting how they could fend off these burglaries. Being devout Texans and all, the discussion turned to self protection...yes, guns. Many openly taunted the would be burglars right there on Facebook.
"We'll blow you straight to hell!" they declared. Other's bragged about their arsenals of weaponry they maintained within their homes, a move I thought not so wise if there really were burglars lurking around. Another few days passed and the fury mounted. A citizen's army bearing weapons of mass destruction stood ready to assault. My eyes bulged as I read through the hundreds of posts and I found myself somewhat relieved that I lived out in the country where burglars rarely venture...townsfolk either, I thought to myself. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized I felt relatively safe out here all alone.
But lo and behold, just hours before the war broke out, yet another expert came forward. Nay, he declared, it was neither dog poachers or burglars...but organized gangs. Yes, he was sure the markings were signs of the underworld. Those whose fences were marked were targeted for plundering, rape, torture, and death. Their houses would be torched afterward to cover the evidence. The facebook poster knew it to be true because his nephew's brother-in-law's sister's kid was in prison...and he knew about such things as this. The brave fervor that had covered the pages of facebook for days waned. Only a few admitted their fear. Others scurried to delete every remark they had so gallantly posted in the previous days. How could Po-dunk, Texas have drawn the attention of the most vicious scum of the land? We've all opted to live in the seclusion of west Texas to avoid the evil of the world. Why, oh, why has this plague come down upon us?
It was Friday night when it all became so crystal clear. A post appeared before my eyes and as I read it, tears came to my eyes. It read like this:
"Hi friends! I have been out of town all week and just came across this post. As you know, I own numerous rent houses throughout town and as I scanned through all these posts, I realized I own all the houses that have been marked. Just want you to know...I had instructed my maintenance man to mark all those fences for the spraying company I've hired to kill weeds in the alleyways. So sorry for the confusion, but you can rest easy knowing you will not have to mow weeds in your alleys this spring!"
So...the Walmart is out of gold spray paint...and dern near every fence in town has a gold mark on it. Out here in Po-dunk, Texas, we may be a little slow, but we ain't stupid, and we're sure not going to miss an opportunity to get our weeds sprayed for free!
No, they announced, it was not the family pet that was being targeted. In fact, a ring of thieves were setting up plans to raid numerous homes while the inhabitants were away, stealing everything that wasn't nailed down. They knew it was gospel truth as Fox News had aired a story about this identical method of operation somewhere over in New Mexico. Well, the group, which had now mushroomed into the hundreds, began plotting how they could fend off these burglaries. Being devout Texans and all, the discussion turned to self protection...yes, guns. Many openly taunted the would be burglars right there on Facebook.
"We'll blow you straight to hell!" they declared. Other's bragged about their arsenals of weaponry they maintained within their homes, a move I thought not so wise if there really were burglars lurking around. Another few days passed and the fury mounted. A citizen's army bearing weapons of mass destruction stood ready to assault. My eyes bulged as I read through the hundreds of posts and I found myself somewhat relieved that I lived out in the country where burglars rarely venture...townsfolk either, I thought to myself. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized I felt relatively safe out here all alone.
But lo and behold, just hours before the war broke out, yet another expert came forward. Nay, he declared, it was neither dog poachers or burglars...but organized gangs. Yes, he was sure the markings were signs of the underworld. Those whose fences were marked were targeted for plundering, rape, torture, and death. Their houses would be torched afterward to cover the evidence. The facebook poster knew it to be true because his nephew's brother-in-law's sister's kid was in prison...and he knew about such things as this. The brave fervor that had covered the pages of facebook for days waned. Only a few admitted their fear. Others scurried to delete every remark they had so gallantly posted in the previous days. How could Po-dunk, Texas have drawn the attention of the most vicious scum of the land? We've all opted to live in the seclusion of west Texas to avoid the evil of the world. Why, oh, why has this plague come down upon us?
It was Friday night when it all became so crystal clear. A post appeared before my eyes and as I read it, tears came to my eyes. It read like this:
"Hi friends! I have been out of town all week and just came across this post. As you know, I own numerous rent houses throughout town and as I scanned through all these posts, I realized I own all the houses that have been marked. Just want you to know...I had instructed my maintenance man to mark all those fences for the spraying company I've hired to kill weeds in the alleyways. So sorry for the confusion, but you can rest easy knowing you will not have to mow weeds in your alleys this spring!"
So...the Walmart is out of gold spray paint...and dern near every fence in town has a gold mark on it. Out here in Po-dunk, Texas, we may be a little slow, but we ain't stupid, and we're sure not going to miss an opportunity to get our weeds sprayed for free!
