I was recently asked to give the welcome and invocation at an evening event. No problem, right? I stood in front of the 120 attendees and thanked them for coming, their support of our program, blah, blah, blah. I then asked them to bow their heads while I prayed.
There was a very long pause.
At that moment it occurred to me that I had just pulled a very stupid move.
We don't say prayers out loud unless they begin..."Come Lord Jesus, be our guest..."
Don't worry, I prayed as best as I could on the spot and included blessings for all the major things that people normally included. Health, kids, safe travels, rain. It just wasn't necessarily my best impromptu moment.
At this moment I bet that Lutherans are laughing and everyone else is saying "I don't get it."
And after reading that last line all Lutherans will say "This is most certainly true."
Again, all you Methodists, Baptists and Pentacostals didn't get that last joke either.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
A Plethora of Possibilites
I have no trouble recalling the crazy events of my life, they seem to happen upon me like raindrops on a palm tree in a hurricane. (Like the analogy? I'm on a roll this morning!)
The biggest conundrum I face right now is the appropriate title for this morning's events. Let's look at some options:
Why I Looked Like a Ninja Warrior-Bandit This Morning
Thank Goodness We Don't Have Neighbors
I Hope That Smell Leaves Soon
Orange Juice: Smooth Going Down AND Back Up!
Are you starting to get the feeling that "stellar" is not one of the top ten ways I would describe my morning? You're so clever, nothing gets by you... Let me start at the beginning, (a very good place to start). Sorry, I couldn't resist breaking out into song. And no, I haven't been drinking.
We found a skunk laying dead in our road yesterday morning. Normally this wouldn't be a huge cause for concern but our neighbors only six miles down the road had a rabid skunk at their place early in the spring and now everyone is a little gun shy. I didn't have time to haul him to the vet for testing yesterday. I simply, absolutely, DID NOT. Keep that in mind for the rest of this story and don't hold my crazy schedule against me.
I asked Wesley to bag him up and leave him somewhere where the girls could not get to him for the day. He did exactly as I asked him and placed the skunk in a Glad trash bag (odor shield, yeah right) and placed the bag inside a closed area on the north end of our shed. I really didn't think much about the skunk after I left the house yesterday morning.
Yesterday night when I got home after my meeting at 11pm, I got out of the car and IMMEDIATELY was reminded about our skunk problem. It smelled absolutely delectable.... if you have the taste buds of a vulture.
Anyhow, I'm going to try to rush through some of the 'yummy' details. Did you know that after only 24 hours in intense heat, a skunk's body will start to decompose enough to make it squishy and drip 'juice' (for lack of a more proper term) out of the bag. This meant that I couldn't place the trash sack in the car - obviously. Also, the stench was so powerful that I had to place a jacket (black) over my nose and mouth, wrap the arms of the jacket around the back of my head, crisscross over to the front and tie a huge knot directly over my mouth, effectively gagging myself and blocking the majority of the smell. (Cue the "why I looked like a ninja warrior-bandit." Not that I've seen a lot of those, but I'm guessing.) Notice I said majority of the smell was blocked, but not all. Thus the part about orange juice going down AND up smoothly. I know, I know, TMI.
Since I couldn't put the bag-o-dead skunk in the vehicle, I had to throw it on the roof rack and take dirt roads 25 miles into town. I had made it alllllllmost the entire way into town when I met an oncoming semi. The force of the rushing wind as he passed by me caused the sack to fly off the roof of the jeep and land in the middle of the road. I calmly (yeah, right) placed my jacket over my nose and mouth again, jumped out of the car, threw the sack back onto the top of the car, and jumped back into the car before it was necessary to attempt to take another breath of air.
Now the reallllly great part. The vet clinic is on the northeast part of town.... right next to the high school. On my way to the vet clinic I ran into a gang of high school and junior high aged girls on their bikes, calmly riding home from morning weight-lifting classes. Needless to say, I didn't make any friends there. I also met Larry, an acquaintance that is running for state representative, at the corner next to the vet clinic. You could certainly tell that it is an election year and he wanted my vote. Even though his windows were rolled down and his eyes appeared to be watering profusely, he still smiled and gave me a friendly wave as I drove by.
I wonder how normal people live their lives...
The biggest conundrum I face right now is the appropriate title for this morning's events. Let's look at some options:
Why I Looked Like a Ninja Warrior-Bandit This Morning
Thank Goodness We Don't Have Neighbors
I Hope That Smell Leaves Soon
Orange Juice: Smooth Going Down AND Back Up!
Are you starting to get the feeling that "stellar" is not one of the top ten ways I would describe my morning? You're so clever, nothing gets by you... Let me start at the beginning, (a very good place to start). Sorry, I couldn't resist breaking out into song. And no, I haven't been drinking.
We found a skunk laying dead in our road yesterday morning. Normally this wouldn't be a huge cause for concern but our neighbors only six miles down the road had a rabid skunk at their place early in the spring and now everyone is a little gun shy. I didn't have time to haul him to the vet for testing yesterday. I simply, absolutely, DID NOT. Keep that in mind for the rest of this story and don't hold my crazy schedule against me.
I asked Wesley to bag him up and leave him somewhere where the girls could not get to him for the day. He did exactly as I asked him and placed the skunk in a Glad trash bag (odor shield, yeah right) and placed the bag inside a closed area on the north end of our shed. I really didn't think much about the skunk after I left the house yesterday morning.
Yesterday night when I got home after my meeting at 11pm, I got out of the car and IMMEDIATELY was reminded about our skunk problem. It smelled absolutely delectable.... if you have the taste buds of a vulture.
Anyhow, I'm going to try to rush through some of the 'yummy' details. Did you know that after only 24 hours in intense heat, a skunk's body will start to decompose enough to make it squishy and drip 'juice' (for lack of a more proper term) out of the bag. This meant that I couldn't place the trash sack in the car - obviously. Also, the stench was so powerful that I had to place a jacket (black) over my nose and mouth, wrap the arms of the jacket around the back of my head, crisscross over to the front and tie a huge knot directly over my mouth, effectively gagging myself and blocking the majority of the smell. (Cue the "why I looked like a ninja warrior-bandit." Not that I've seen a lot of those, but I'm guessing.) Notice I said majority of the smell was blocked, but not all. Thus the part about orange juice going down AND up smoothly. I know, I know, TMI.
Since I couldn't put the bag-o-dead skunk in the vehicle, I had to throw it on the roof rack and take dirt roads 25 miles into town. I had made it alllllllmost the entire way into town when I met an oncoming semi. The force of the rushing wind as he passed by me caused the sack to fly off the roof of the jeep and land in the middle of the road. I calmly (yeah, right) placed my jacket over my nose and mouth again, jumped out of the car, threw the sack back onto the top of the car, and jumped back into the car before it was necessary to attempt to take another breath of air.
Now the reallllly great part. The vet clinic is on the northeast part of town.... right next to the high school. On my way to the vet clinic I ran into a gang of high school and junior high aged girls on their bikes, calmly riding home from morning weight-lifting classes. Needless to say, I didn't make any friends there. I also met Larry, an acquaintance that is running for state representative, at the corner next to the vet clinic. You could certainly tell that it is an election year and he wanted my vote. Even though his windows were rolled down and his eyes appeared to be watering profusely, he still smiled and gave me a friendly wave as I drove by.
I wonder how normal people live their lives...
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Farenheit 451 (approximate heat index)
Its hot here. Freakin' hot. Its our first day over 100 degrees and it never feels like something that should be celebrated. You can always tell when the weather gets this warm and its so unbearably hot that animals will do most anything you want them to, just to get it over, done with, and out of the blasted heat.
I was reminded of this just a few moments ago. All of us (Wesley, myself, Loop and Laurie) have been outside all day (baling, swathing, basking, and digging up my flower beds. In that order.). As I mentioned before, its freakin' hot. (Sorry for using that word so much, Grandma, but it just is.) I finally got to the house and was ready to walk into the kitchen door with the two girls close behind. We have a rule that they must not burst through the doors, rather, they must sit on their bottoms and show their manners before being allowed inside the house. Normally I have to remind them of this rule. Today, I grabbed the doorknob and turned around to remind them gently, "manners," but both girls were thinking ahead. Not only were they sitting down, they had sprawled out with everything from their chin to the tip of their tail on the floor. Heat, apparently, makes you mind your manners.
Now for a Golden Girls moment: Picture it- Sumner County, Kansas, circa 1998. (I always love it when Sophia says that.)
I was around 14 years old and my dad had gotten a pair of huge paint geldings to break for some friends one summer. We had worked with them several times and they always had abounding energy.... if you get my drift. One hot day in July, much like today, Dad and I hooked up Nub and Bub to a disc and he sent me out in the field with them. Normally "whoa" was a word that they didn't respond to heartily, but on that day I remember that I barely had to begin the "wh..." and they were already at a dead stop. Apparently, heat makes you mind your manners.
I finally made it back to my grandad's yard late in the afternoon. It probably wasn't more than 45 minutes that I was out in the field with the team but it felt more like an eternity. All three of us were quite tired and dripping with sweat when we parked it under a shade tree by the breeding stall in Grandad's yard. Dad was there waiting for me. I remember my grandad trotting over from his house at a pretty brisk pace, asking if we were going to be there for a minute. I also remember thinking that he was crazy - I didn't have energy to move another inch.
He trotted back across the yard to his garden and returned with a watermelon. We - Grandad, Dad and I, cut into that watermelon and it was the most juicy, refreshing thing I had ever eaten in the world. I remember the juice running all down my chin and how great that sticky juice felt running down my neck and chest. I didn't care how gross and sticky I was getting. It was cool and it was good. The three of us didn't, and still don't, hang out all that much all together at one time. That afternoon was one of the most perfect memories I have of us all together.
Its funny what triggers my memory. Today, seeing how our girls didn't want to fight the heat and minded their manners before even being asked really set me back about 14 years today, thinking about that team and watermelon with Dad and Grandad. I don't mind the heat so much when I think back to that afternoon...
I was reminded of this just a few moments ago. All of us (Wesley, myself, Loop and Laurie) have been outside all day (baling, swathing, basking, and digging up my flower beds. In that order.). As I mentioned before, its freakin' hot. (Sorry for using that word so much, Grandma, but it just is.) I finally got to the house and was ready to walk into the kitchen door with the two girls close behind. We have a rule that they must not burst through the doors, rather, they must sit on their bottoms and show their manners before being allowed inside the house. Normally I have to remind them of this rule. Today, I grabbed the doorknob and turned around to remind them gently, "manners," but both girls were thinking ahead. Not only were they sitting down, they had sprawled out with everything from their chin to the tip of their tail on the floor. Heat, apparently, makes you mind your manners.
Now for a Golden Girls moment: Picture it- Sumner County, Kansas, circa 1998. (I always love it when Sophia says that.)
I was around 14 years old and my dad had gotten a pair of huge paint geldings to break for some friends one summer. We had worked with them several times and they always had abounding energy.... if you get my drift. One hot day in July, much like today, Dad and I hooked up Nub and Bub to a disc and he sent me out in the field with them. Normally "whoa" was a word that they didn't respond to heartily, but on that day I remember that I barely had to begin the "wh..." and they were already at a dead stop. Apparently, heat makes you mind your manners.
I finally made it back to my grandad's yard late in the afternoon. It probably wasn't more than 45 minutes that I was out in the field with the team but it felt more like an eternity. All three of us were quite tired and dripping with sweat when we parked it under a shade tree by the breeding stall in Grandad's yard. Dad was there waiting for me. I remember my grandad trotting over from his house at a pretty brisk pace, asking if we were going to be there for a minute. I also remember thinking that he was crazy - I didn't have energy to move another inch.
He trotted back across the yard to his garden and returned with a watermelon. We - Grandad, Dad and I, cut into that watermelon and it was the most juicy, refreshing thing I had ever eaten in the world. I remember the juice running all down my chin and how great that sticky juice felt running down my neck and chest. I didn't care how gross and sticky I was getting. It was cool and it was good. The three of us didn't, and still don't, hang out all that much all together at one time. That afternoon was one of the most perfect memories I have of us all together.
Its funny what triggers my memory. Today, seeing how our girls didn't want to fight the heat and minded their manners before even being asked really set me back about 14 years today, thinking about that team and watermelon with Dad and Grandad. I don't mind the heat so much when I think back to that afternoon...
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
867-5309
Sometimes I think that people can get a little too pigeon-holed in their own little worlds and forget that not every place in the world runs exactly the same as them.
Case in point?
Believe it or not, in some parts of the country, when giving out your telephone number, you must include alllllll the numbers. That's right, all seven of them. Whew.
I have been doing a bunch of work on the telephone today and talked to three different people (yeah, that's too much time on the phone in my world) and asked for their numbers. Do you know their responses?
8171.
6871.
7405.
If you call in to the Swap Shop on the radio its the exact same scenario. "I've got an old 'fridge, asking $100. 2964." Sometimes someone from a neighboring town calls in and then they have to give all seven digits (sigh) and sometimes someone from waaaaay out of town (or possible new in town) calls in and they give all seven digits PLUS the area code (gasp!). I doubt many people call to buy those things. Too many numbers to remember. Lets keep it simple folks.
Case in point?
Believe it or not, in some parts of the country, when giving out your telephone number, you must include alllllll the numbers. That's right, all seven of them. Whew.
I have been doing a bunch of work on the telephone today and talked to three different people (yeah, that's too much time on the phone in my world) and asked for their numbers. Do you know their responses?
8171.
6871.
7405.
If you call in to the Swap Shop on the radio its the exact same scenario. "I've got an old 'fridge, asking $100. 2964." Sometimes someone from a neighboring town calls in and then they have to give all seven digits (sigh) and sometimes someone from waaaaay out of town (or possible new in town) calls in and they give all seven digits PLUS the area code (gasp!). I doubt many people call to buy those things. Too many numbers to remember. Lets keep it simple folks.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
My Oh My...
I promise I'm not making this up.
We have a little local radio station (you know, not the first trailer, but drive around back to the second, newer trailer) and sometimes I like to listen to "Swap Shop" during the 8 o'clock hour. Folks can call in to buy, sell or trade items, and you can also call in to publicize any sort of upcoming event.
A man called in this morning to publicize a mud run on Saturday. Not that talking about the mud run in and of itself wasn't exhilarating enough, the man was mid-sentence when he suddenly stopped.
"Uh-oh"
The announcer tried to quiz him. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"
"Well, there's a rattlesnake."
The announcer suddenly got very concerned. "Oh no! Where's the rattlesnake at? Is it near you?"
"The rattlesnake is in the skunk's mouth."
At that point I joined everyone else in the county in turning up their radio to maximum volume. From this point forward for the next 2 minutes we heard a riveting play-by-play of the battle to the death between two equally appalling creatures. Yes, its true. I do not love all of God's creatures. Some are just icky.
"Okay, so the mud run, it starts at 1pm and we're selling t-shirts. AGH, THE SKUNK PICKED UP THE SNAKE IN IT'S MOUTH! And I'm going to be wearing our most popular color of t-shirt, its a bright orange color, like the color you wear when you're hunting. THEY'RE RUNNING AT ME! (random running and heavy breathing sounds in the background) I sure hope he don't try to pee on me. (I'm guessing he meant the skunk.) Oh, wait, just a second.... huh, the skunk just fell over dead. Huh, the skunk's dead, the snake looks dead. Heck of a deal. Well, we'll see you at the mud run on Saturday at 1."
Click. Then we heard nothing but dial tone.
We could faintly hear the sound of the announcer laughing hysterically and slapping his hand on either his desk or leg. Finally, he regained his composure and tried to get back on task with Swap Shop. It was a futile effort on his part - the next three callers simply asked if that had been staged or not.... and if he recorded his morning shows because they wanted a copy of the preceding five minutes. Much to the chagrin of the county, it was not recorded. Bummer.
Never a dull moment in ol' GW County.
We have a little local radio station (you know, not the first trailer, but drive around back to the second, newer trailer) and sometimes I like to listen to "Swap Shop" during the 8 o'clock hour. Folks can call in to buy, sell or trade items, and you can also call in to publicize any sort of upcoming event.
A man called in this morning to publicize a mud run on Saturday. Not that talking about the mud run in and of itself wasn't exhilarating enough, the man was mid-sentence when he suddenly stopped.
"Uh-oh"
The announcer tried to quiz him. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"
"Well, there's a rattlesnake."
The announcer suddenly got very concerned. "Oh no! Where's the rattlesnake at? Is it near you?"
"The rattlesnake is in the skunk's mouth."
At that point I joined everyone else in the county in turning up their radio to maximum volume. From this point forward for the next 2 minutes we heard a riveting play-by-play of the battle to the death between two equally appalling creatures. Yes, its true. I do not love all of God's creatures. Some are just icky.
"Okay, so the mud run, it starts at 1pm and we're selling t-shirts. AGH, THE SKUNK PICKED UP THE SNAKE IN IT'S MOUTH! And I'm going to be wearing our most popular color of t-shirt, its a bright orange color, like the color you wear when you're hunting. THEY'RE RUNNING AT ME! (random running and heavy breathing sounds in the background) I sure hope he don't try to pee on me. (I'm guessing he meant the skunk.) Oh, wait, just a second.... huh, the skunk just fell over dead. Huh, the skunk's dead, the snake looks dead. Heck of a deal. Well, we'll see you at the mud run on Saturday at 1."
Click. Then we heard nothing but dial tone.
We could faintly hear the sound of the announcer laughing hysterically and slapping his hand on either his desk or leg. Finally, he regained his composure and tried to get back on task with Swap Shop. It was a futile effort on his part - the next three callers simply asked if that had been staged or not.... and if he recorded his morning shows because they wanted a copy of the preceding five minutes. Much to the chagrin of the county, it was not recorded. Bummer.
Never a dull moment in ol' GW County.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Honky Strikes Again
Sunday night Wesley's phone rang. It was the banker calling. That is never a good sign.
They spoke for several minutes and from my limited perspective of the conversation I could garner that a) we were not being foreclosed upon just yet, and b) we didn't have any cattle out and running across the roads.
So.... what's left?
Good question. As soon as they finished their conversation and hung up I began to quiz Wesley about the nature of this peculiar call. As it turns out, we have a set of portable cattle pens. They're pretty cool, kinda similar to the sets of fold-up pens that every single ranch kid in America has played with all their lives, only not on a six inch scale. More like six foot. These pens have wheels on them (hence the "portable" aspect) and can be unrolled and set up in roughly 15 minutes, perfect for working cattle in the middle of any pasture.
Know what else they're good for? Beer gardens.
That's right, the banker man called to see if Wesley would set up his portable pens in the middle of the street, in the middle of town, for a portable beer garden during our town's annual festival. Apparently a beer garden is not official until you have defined boundaries set up. And you know us, always on the right side of official.
As I stated in an earlier post, we don't try to be honky, it just happens.
And yes, I will take pictures.
They spoke for several minutes and from my limited perspective of the conversation I could garner that a) we were not being foreclosed upon just yet, and b) we didn't have any cattle out and running across the roads.
So.... what's left?
Good question. As soon as they finished their conversation and hung up I began to quiz Wesley about the nature of this peculiar call. As it turns out, we have a set of portable cattle pens. They're pretty cool, kinda similar to the sets of fold-up pens that every single ranch kid in America has played with all their lives, only not on a six inch scale. More like six foot. These pens have wheels on them (hence the "portable" aspect) and can be unrolled and set up in roughly 15 minutes, perfect for working cattle in the middle of any pasture.
Know what else they're good for? Beer gardens.
That's right, the banker man called to see if Wesley would set up his portable pens in the middle of the street, in the middle of town, for a portable beer garden during our town's annual festival. Apparently a beer garden is not official until you have defined boundaries set up. And you know us, always on the right side of official.
As I stated in an earlier post, we don't try to be honky, it just happens.
And yes, I will take pictures.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Sleep Deprivation
I have just returned from a long weekend, a week at a 4-H camp, and another long weekend.
I am a bit sleep deprived.
I was just listening to the radio and they said that sleep deprivation is a major contributor leading to an early death.
What the advertisement failed to clarify; however, was if the early death was for those that are sleep deprived or for those that happen to be standing in the vicinity when the aforementioned sleep deprived individuals finally snap.
Any thoughts? Please don't tell me I'm the only one who saw a need for further clarification.
I am a bit sleep deprived.
I was just listening to the radio and they said that sleep deprivation is a major contributor leading to an early death.
What the advertisement failed to clarify; however, was if the early death was for those that are sleep deprived or for those that happen to be standing in the vicinity when the aforementioned sleep deprived individuals finally snap.
Any thoughts? Please don't tell me I'm the only one who saw a need for further clarification.
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