Weird Day

Our dryer quit blowing warm air last week. It works now, but I've never had anything else like this happen to me

I'd taken it apart, checked the element, all of the thermostats, thermistors, etc., & nothing seemed bad. It had a generic schematic taped inside by the timer, so I checked that too, & it wasn't giving me quite the right readings on everything, so I figured I'd found the problem.

Pulled the timer & brought it to the oldest appliance repair place I know of in our county (12 mi. away), but the guy told me I really don't want to order that timer because it's $120+ after tax. Then he told me 4 more things to check after I got it back together & whatever part didn't work would be much cheaper than buying the timer and then coming back to buy the right part later

So I brought the timer back home, stuck it in the dryer, plugged all the wires back onto all the right spade connectors, turned it on, and started to test the first thing he said, which was:  is there 220v across the 2 big wires in the back of the timer?

So I set up the meter, put the meter probes on the spade connectors, turned my head to look at the meter, and… one of the probes slipped. I don't know how it slipped (the sharp point was in a hole), but… there was a very bright flash, a rather loud pop, 2 or 3 little bright red balls of molten metal (the point of meter had melted off) fell to the floor, & I let out a strangled yell (sounded a lot like Sven the reindeer, from the movie Frozen).

Between all that happening, & trying to keep my hands out of the 220, I was a bit too distracted to know just what my meter probe slipped into, but wherever it went… THE DRYER STARTED WORKING IMMEDIATELY!!!

So I have a working dryer. I was chagrined to realize I'm not smart enough to know what I did, how I did it, or how to do it again.

Decided to tell the kids that God fixed the dryer.

Expendability

A brief talk by Nate Saint over HCJB radio: 1949.

I've been reading Jungle Pilot, by Russell T. Hitt. It's a great book about Nate Saint, and I thought this small excerpt would be an encouragement to my friends: missionaries, military members, and others in service to the King.

You can get a copy of this book free here.

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A fact that is mixed in a very important way with our work is the thing that became commonly known during the last war as "EXPENDABILITY."

The flying business is full of illustrations of this basic principle. God has seen fit to make a vehicle that is expendable essential to progress. There is always a price that must be paid.

During the last war (WW2) we were taught that, in order to obtain our objective, we had to be willing to be expendable, and many lives were spent paying the price of our redemption from the bonds of political slavery.

This very afternoon thousands of soldiers are known by their serial numbers as men who are expendable. During the last war we saw big bombers on the assembly line, row after row, powerful, costly implements of war! Yet we all knew--we actually KNEW that many of those bombers would not accomplish even five missions over enemy territory. We also knew that young fellows, many of them volunteers, would ride in those airborne machine-gun turrets, and their life expectancy behind those guns was (with the trigger down) only four minutes. Tremendous expendability!

We know that there is only one answer when our country demands that we share in the price of freedom--yet when the Lord Jesus asks us to pay the price for world evangelization, we often answer without a word. We cannot go. We say it costs too much.

God Himself laid down the law when He built the universe. He knew when He made it what the price was going to be. And the Lamb of God was slain in the counsels of God from before the foundation of the world. If God didn't hold back His only Son, but gave Him up to pay the price for our failure and sin, then how can we Christians bold back our lives-- the lives He really owns?

The Lord tells us that "He that loveth his life" -- we might say that "he that is selfish with his life" -- "shall lose it." It's inescapable.

Missionaries constantly face expendability. And people who do not know the Lord ask why in the world we waste our lives as missionaries. They forget that they too are expending their lives. They forget that when their lives are spent and the bubble has burst, they will have nothing of eternal significance to show for the years they have wasted.

Some might say, isn't it too great a price to pay? When missionaries consider themselves--their lives before God--they consider themselves expendable. And in our personal lives as Christians, isn't the same thing true? Isn't the price small in the light of God's infinite love? Those who know the joy of leading a stranger to Christ and those who have gone to tribes who have never heard the Gospel, gladly count themselves expendable. And they count it all joy.

"Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone." The apostle Paul said, "I die daily." "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service."

And Jesus said, "There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake, and the Gospel's, but he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time . . . and in the world to come eternal life."
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A New Day, A New Way!

Last May, I blogged about a conservative political candidate I supported: Dr. Marion Thorpe. My one regret was not that he was running against Alcee Hastings (I was quite pleased with that). Rather, I wished that I could have had the opportunity to vote for him -- but he wasn't running in my district.

In our current political climate, Hastings was a very difficult incumbent to challenge, even for another African American that fit the district's demographics better than the incumbent. I thought Dr. Thorpe had a great opportunity, but unfortunately, Hastings' "normal" amount of support was greatly bolstered by the turnout to elect Obama. (Most likely, had it been a "normal" year for Hastings, the number of votes Dr. Thorpe received would have easily catapulted him past Hastings.)

However, I am glad he lost that race. Because of that loss, one year from November, I may get the opportunity to cast my vote for Dr. Thorpe in another, bigger race! Wednesday, January 7, Dr. Thorpe officially announced his intent to run for one of Florida's two seats in the U.S. Senate! (The one being vacated by Mel Martinez.)

To say I was excited would be a gross understatement. It's been quite awhile since I've gotten to vote for a true conservative -- in any office. I've had to vote for the "best" of the worst for so long, I didn't expect to have the opportunity for vote for a candidate I can support. I knew Dr. Thorpe had been considering the idea of running for some seat in government, but he'd been waiting to make sure his friend, Jeb Bush, wasn't interested in any of the same offices in which he, Dr. Thorpe, might have an interest. That Wednesday evening at church, he told me (and a few others) Jeb didn't seem to be interested in the Senate seat, and he'd finally decided to throw his hat in the ring. Did you notice, I said "at church" was where he told us? Well, Dr. Thorpe is one of a minority of politicians that makes no apologies for his belief in God.

In very few politicians, or even candidates for that matter, will you find a person with enough conviction to regularly attend church services. If you do find one, it is the rare individual that feels any responsibility to attend a service on a week night as well as just Sunday morning (when they can shake more people's hands). Throughout all of last year's hectic campaigning, Dr. Thorpe made the time to regularly stop and "recharge his spiritual batteries" with us.


I do know my blog may suffer, but I'm going to help in this race even more than the last -- as much as I'm physically and mentally able (without disrupting my commitments to my church and the provision for my family). My professional experience "happens" to be in small business consulting; thankfully, several of my past contracts have given me some experience that may assist Dr. Thorpe in keeping track of the finances of his campaign.

There are still papers to be filed, and an "official" fund-raising campaign to begin (it will actually help accelerate the filings if unsolicited donations started mysteriously "rolling in"). If you, or anyone you know is interested in supporting Florida's first Republican, African-American candidate for the U.S. Senate, please (for those that know me personally), let me know. For those that don't, but have a FaceBook account, you can join the Dr. Marion Thorpe for US Senate group. And for those that only have internet access (or just want more info on the candidate), you can visit Dr. Thorpe's site directly. Support can consist of your time, your skills, your money, or any combination of the three. Whatever it is, it won't be turned away.

Optometry Oddidity

Received a call from my optometrist late last Friday afternoon. (Didn't realize it was the actual optometrist on the phone at first, thought it was one of his assistants.) He told me that the four-year membership I purchased was expiring unused on Tuesday (save for the purchase of my glasses and a one-year supply of disposable contacts). However, if I wanted to be seen at the reduced "plan" rate, he would honor the same price all week. I was wearing my my last set of contacts and planning to call him anyway, so I scheduled my appointment for 10 am Monday morning.

Sunday night, my wife surprised me when she decided she wanted an exam the next morning too. Personally, I could care less; if she wanted to willingly go see a doctor, then that was her problem. I'm the type person that doesn't go see any doctor -- of any kind -- unless I'm near death or in dire need of something. (Which may have been obvious, since I haven't been to the eye doctor in four years.) Anyway, since I do like to see clearly, I was "in need."

Our arrival (driving through all green lights!), parking (one space was left -- at the door), check-in (we were first), wait (brief), and exam (wife & I went in together) were only "eventful" in that absolutely nothing went wrong! I was almost dreading the rest of the day -- thinking there may be paybacks somewhere.

Amazingly, no paybacks either. Instead, he shone bright lights in my eyes then had me read the little chart on wall (with the big prescription-finder thingy in front of my eyes). When I asked how much worse my eyes had gotten, he didn't answer directly. He told me that, "One of two things has happened in the last four years." (I so dread it when I hear doctors offering options.) Either,
1. on my previous visit, my eyes were diagnosed incorrectly (and I've been using the wrong prescription for four years), or
2. sometime in the last 4 years, my prescription in one eye has attained a slight astigmatism, while both eyes have (miraculously) improved exactly 0.5!

This was one of those rare moments in which I was totally speechless.

My wife laughed and said, "And they say long hours staring at a computer screen are bad for you." She also had the presence of mind to ask if my recent (bi-monthly and more) migraines may be attributable to having this prescription too strong: "Possible," was his reply.

I was expecting to purchase contacts; I was not expecting to need new glasses. Nor was I expecting any eye improvements. They did sell me contacts (at the "deal" pricing), but won't give them to me until I wear this free loaner pair for a few days. They want to make sure I can still see clearly.

It's been a few days, today is Thursday. My last migraine started early Monday morning (although it wasn't horrible until my eyes were dilated). Since then, I can still see pretty well (I was reading the 20/15 line on his chart), but I think the astigmatism diagnosis might be incorrect: if I move too quickly, things look a little wonky until my eyes adjust. I'll have to go back tomorrow and have him check.

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[EDIT: It's now Friday. I went back again this morning and I can still see the 20/15 line. I told him about the occasional equilibrium problems and that I'd noticed one other thing: a continuous tension in the muscles around my right eye. He held weaker and stronger lenses in front of my eye, but neither was better. So, I'm going to give it another week. He thinks it might be because my eyes are adjusting to this prescription.]

My Apologies To Shakespeare:

To Post, OR not to Post, that IS questionable.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous children (in silence)
Or to take up words against a sea of troublesome-ness,
And by exposing, laugh at them?

Thus begins my latest installment of the vagaries of having children:
The other evening Sugee was s'posed to be going potty, washing her hands, then getting into her jammies before having a snack and trundling off to bed. Sugee doesn't always do s'posed to very well -- she has her own little world she inhabits and its... well... different.

After an extraordinary amount of time in the bathroom, I decided it would be wise to go find her. (Bear in mind, this is the same three and a half year old child that two Saturdays ago crammed a Gobstopper up her nose -- as far as she could reach her "pinky" finger!)

This Saturday evening, I found her -- in the bathroom? Yes.
Completely finished and ready for bed? No -- try stark naked.

Furthermore, she was patting at her soaked, wet hair with the used (and very dirty) foot-towel.

Realizing she was merely attempting to copy Mommy, but making a mess of herself, I stifled my smile and laughter, asked what she had been doing, and (of course) received the typical sugar-coated answer of "Nothing Daddy". After some verbal pressure, she did reveal that she had just finished "washing her hair in the bathtub" -- albeit, I hadn't heard any water running (except in the sink) so I was not convinced. Willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, I had her wash her hands and finish getting ready for bed.

Once dressed, she did finally admit that she had NOT used the bathtub to wet her hair.
No . . . my sweet, innocent, blond-haired, green-eyed, cherub-faced daughter had just participated in a SELF . INDUCED . SWIRLY ! ! !

(And for the curious-minded, no: I did not check to see if the water she used was pre- or post-potty -- I really did not want to know.)

I'm hoping she survives being a toddler . . . and that her baby sister doesn't take after her in any way shape or form.

And thus the natives' hue of exploration
Is o'er laid with the hearty cast of memory,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this affection their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of trouble. - Soft you now!
The fair Sugee! Nymph, in my orisons
Be all thy sins -- forgotten.

A Small Milestone

My three and a half year old son (Tank) came to me a few weeks ago and begged to have his training wheels removed. Thinking he was too young, I put him on his big brother's "blue-bike" and let him make a few attempts. Tank, at three, is actually heavier than Little Bear (who turns six in March), and only a few inches shorter, so the "big" blue-bike is all of one inch taller than the "little" one. (Both bikes are blue, the smaller one has racing flames on it, so they've dubbed it the "fire-bike.") Tank wasn't quite ready for me to let go, but he was surprisingly good. I didn't remove the wheels from the fire-bike at that time, but decided to let him try again -- soon.

Last week, one of the training wheels came loose on the fire-bike; Tank went down pretty hard, but shook it off (hence the nick-name). He brought the bike home and laid it in the driveway in front of my wife's van for me to fix. (Daddys can fix anything you know.) Seeing the bike in the driveway reminded me of our "escapade" a few weeks ago, so I let the bike lay there for a few days. (Long enough for poor little Tank to be dying to ride his bike again.) Saturday (while my wife was out shopping) I took off his other training wheel, put him on the fire-bike, and told him to pedal. Guess what he did?

If you thought, "Sat still and cried his eyes out," you were right. He remembered the previous attempt -- as well as going down hard last week. Not to be deterred by a few tears (Momma was shopping, remember -- he couldn't "tell on me" until later) I told him I wouldn't let him go, but he had to pedal. After several bent-over jogs up and down the street (holding onto the bottom of his seat), I thought he was almost able to ride on his own (there'd been very few forays into the grass). So first thing, we sat down for a few minutes -- I don't jog very well bent over and needed to catch my breath. While I was resting, I had Little Bear take the fire-bike, told him to ride up & down the street, and called Tank to come sit with me to watch. He complained the whole time, but dutifully got right back on the bike when I was ready.

As we headed down the street once again, I did let go, but kept jogging behind him -- and he did fine. We turned around (I helped) and he went back up the street -- this time I ran right next to him. He was concerned, but started getting excited when he realized he could ride with no training wheels. We turned the last time and started back down the street (with me still running alongside) when my wife started up the road. Without him knowing, I signaled to her to stop and (as she waited) told Tank to "pedal to Mommy" and show her "how good he was doing with no training wheels."

In case you don't know, there is something built-into 99.999% of all men: we must show off in plain view of females. As a child, the female of most import is Mom, but Grandmas, Aunts, friends, neighbors, and siblings follow close behind. Tank falls in the 99.999% category -- as soon as he saw his Mommy flashing the headlights of the mini-van at him, he needed no more help. At least, no more help riding -- he doesn't stop well yet. He didn't let that deter him though -- he crashed into the neighbor's mailbox, jumped up, and told his mother what he'd just done. At every opportunity since, he's been telling friends and family of his latest accomplishment, and begging to ride some more.


P.S. Sorry for spilling the beans guys, but ladies -- if you want your man to get something done, word your request in a manner that feeds his ego, then make a big deal out of what he's accomplished for you -- preferably in front of other females that are important to him.

Bitten by Reality

My wife goes to these ladies' meetings; they're usually every two to five weeks apart. I'm not really sure what they do there? Perhaps just talk with all the other ladies from our church with no men or children to interrupt?

Needless to say, ladies' meetings are great for her, and a challenge for me. Tonight's meeting did have a great added bonus though: cookie exchange! She's only been home a few hours, so I have yet to sample all of the cookies she's brought back, but I'm sure I will have done so by tomorrow evening.

The opposite side of the coin is the dark side. I get to watch all of the children by myself. Don't get me wrong, I love kids. We did, after all, have FOUR of the little buggers.) =) The problem is the age of said children, and the resulting responsibilities corresponding to each.

Five is a great age. I can play with Little Bear, tickle him until he can't walk, stand, or even talk, sword fight, play with his LEGO blocks, and all sorts of other fun things. Very few draw-backs with this age.

Three is also a "fun" age, the kids are old enough to play with, reason with, and generally have a lot of fun. It does occasionally have its downsides though. Like when one three-year-old "pokes" the other, or takes the chair, crayon, or toy the other wanted, or (heaven forbid) doesn't get the correct spoon at dinner-time! The resulting drama that unfolds normally rivals the best "All My Children" could ever hope to offer. Sometimes I wonder how much I could make rewriting dinner-time drama and selling it to the major soaps.

The real kicker, however, is not the five year old, the twin three year olds, or even the fact that I watch them, alone, for two to four hours. What gets me are the stomach-churning capabilities of our five month old. What, you may ask, can a five month old do that bothers my stomach? plenty. For starters, just seeing the mixture of cereal and peas I fed her for dinner hasn't changed all that much the second time around usually does it. Actually, color doesn't matter quite as much as stench.

I can handle gunshots, blood, guts, broken bones, death, and any number of other things that would turn anyone's stomach. The problem for me lies in bodily excretions, from either end.

Anyone that tells you women are inferior to men... is a full-blown liar, or has never had to juggle the responsibilities of several small children, the phone, and a simultaneous diaper change. Thankfully, tonight I did have the five year old, and he likes to help. I had him hang on to each of Little Squirt's hands while I cleaned the other end. No finger-painting allowed on my watch you know.

Dumb People on the Loose

I frequent Yahoo's Odd News section. I love to see what the crazies are doing, as well as what the "normal" people like me are doing to defend themselves against the encroaching mobs. (As the British Royal Observer Corps' motto says, "Fore-warned is fore-armed.")

I ran across this article yesterday. Too bad I passed up that elective in fencing:

Man uses candy cane to subdue attacker with knife
Wed Dec 3, 5:53 pm ET

SACRAMENTO, Calif. – A man using a candy cane lawn ornament fended off a knife-wielding neighbor who had been attacking holiday guests at a Sacramento home. Police spokesman Sgt. Norm Leong said the man used the two-foot-tall plastic ornament to subdue the attacker until officers arrived.

He said the 49-year-old suspect became intoxicated, went over to a neighbor's home on Thanksgiving and began waving a kitchen knife at people gathered on the lawn.

He cut several peoples' clothing before one of them decided to fight back.

Police said the man with the knife was arrested on suspicion of assault with a deadly weapon. The guest who took up the candy cane was not arrested because police determined he acted in self-defense.

The drunk was only arrested on "suspicion of assault" even though "He cut several peoples' clothing" -- Wow. I'm surprised they didn't go ahead and arrest the victim for carrying a concealed candy cane.

This morning I found another story worth repeating:

Aussies mull breath-test before voting
Thu Dec 4, 1:38 am ET

CANBERRA (Reuters) – Politicians in Australia's most populous state could be breath-tested for alcohol before voting on laws after a series of late-night incidents that have embarrassed the center-left government.

New South Wales state lawmaker Andrew Fraser resigned from his conservative opposition frontbench role after shoving a female colleague in the wake of Christmas party celebrations.

"Breath test this mob," said a front page headline in Sydney's mass-selling Daily Telegraph newspaper. State police minister Matt Brown was dumped from his portfolio in September after allegedly "dirty" dancing in his underwear over the chest of a female colleague after a drunken post-budget office party.

Conservative Opposition Leader Barry O'Farrell said he would support alcohol breath tests for drunkenness for lawmakers before they entered parliament, while Green MPs John Kaye and Lee Rhiannon also backed the plan, along with the parliament's speaker.

"Honestly, if you are going to have breathalyzers for people driving cranes you should have breathalyzers for people writing laws," Kaye told the Telegraph.

I wonder what would happen if we here the U.S. implemented across-the-board monthly drug testing as well as yearly standardized achievement testing for every member of the House and Senate? Maybe our resulting laws would make more sense.

The Crash -- and Other Happenings

Just found this post (October 16) was still in unpublished draft form... publishing now, and updating (again) in the next post.

I thought I'd take a few minutes and catch up for the month. First of all, I've been assisting with a martial arts class once a week (Tuesday nights from 6.30-8.00pm EST). If I were young, dumb, and single (no offense intended if you fit into any of those categories) I'd prefer to go 3 to 5 times a week, but I do have a wife, children, a life, and an aging body that doesn't recover in 12 hours anymore... so... once a week is "enough."

On the last Tuesday of August, while I was teaching our self defense class (around 7pm), my parents were told of a live webcast. (I'd known of it, but after looking at the ominous clouds in the sky and watching lightning strike nearby several times, I'd forgone telling anyone else in the house about the webcast.) Unbeknownst to me, my neighbor (helpful soul that he is) came over and spread the word (just after I'd left).

We lost our power several times in a row that night; only for a few minutes each time, but the last was a brown-out -- which "affected my computer negatively" -- it fried an important chip ("southbridge") on the motherboard. On my system, the southbridge runs all of the things that plug into the computer -- which means, everything I plugged in did not work properly (the monitor and floppy disk drive), or did not work at all (everything else). Found it rather difficult to use a system that didn't work properly, and that couldn't have information added to it except in 1.4M pieces.

The computer was built around 2001, so the motherboard is old, but it's been upgraded pretty-well and is sufficient for my needs. I tried, but couldn't replace the motherboard with a new one (my wife wanted to buy a whole new system, until I explained we'd have to repurchase several thousand dollars worth of software to make "new computer" = "old computer").

I was able to locate some used motherboards in a Canadian computer shop and purchased two of them via eBay (1 for backup). That was wonderful, but I didn't have them yet. On a side note: I despise Canadian shipping; it is unimaginably slow (if I ever produce an illustrated Canadian/USA dictionary, the Canada Post logo will be the only thing listed under the word "slow").

After 15 days, I finally got my new motherboards and installed one. No problems with the motherboard, however, when I updated the operating system, the system glitched (of course). Something with Windows XP service pack 2 doesn't like my system -- so now I'm slowly working thru the re-update problems. Hopefully this won't take long...

Book Review: 1,000 Dollars and an Idea

My computer was incapacitated when I received this book, so I wasn't able to review it as quickly as I would have liked.

That being said, this is everything I look for in a great autobiographical (or even biographical) work.

1,000 Dollars and an Idea flows well from beginning to end (almost too well; I couldn't put it down). Wyly is a billionaire, but by no means does his book come across as "elitist." His "humble beginnings" were primitive by any American's standards, yet he didn't gloss over them or excessively flaunt them.

As an entrepreneur myself (as well as being involved in raising and managing capital), it's my opinion that every entrepreneur should read this book. (As should anyone with dreams of becoming a multi-millionaire.) The book isn't written as a "how-to-" book for billionaires, but nearly every chapter contains an idea, tip, or guide to improve one's business- and personal-life.

There was only one aspect of the book that was distasteful: rather than being informative, in 2 areas he resorted to raw advertising. First, I didn't mind reading that he follows "Christian Science" (I do not) but the prominence he gave it (and to its founder) was annoyingly distracting. The second was the entire last chapter (The Good Earth). I won't go into a point-for-point refutation here, I'd just recommend you do your own research. Having done extensive work for environmental businesses, I do have more than rudimentary knowledge of the need for environmental responsibility and can relate to the fact not enough is being done. While Wyly's description of the problems we face does raise some important issues that need to be dealt with, his overall "call for action" seems based less on reality and more on "Henny Penny," which was rather disappointing.

The epilogue returns to the style of writing I enjoyed, and my overall impression of the book is: 1,000 Dollars and an Idea is one of the few books I will be rereading at least yearly.

Missions Trip

Amidst the general busy-ness and difficulties of the past few weeks, I've been remiss in my blogging. I'll attempt to rectify that this month, but if you know me even a little, you know I'm so chock-full of good intentions that I tend to run a little bit light on round-to-its.

The trip my Dad and I took to Puerto Rico (July 20-25) went well. We traveled to Ceiba, to work at a small Baptist church. This was my very first trip to the island, and I enjoyed it immensely.

Fixing a leaky (concrete) roof over the fellowship hall/school lunchroom took much of our week, but we were also able to move an air conditioner, organize some of their tools, hang chalk boards, change ballasts, build a cover for the kitchen water heater, and teach the Pastor how to not only preserve his tools in that high-humidity climate (I live in south Florida, we have a similar climate), but also how to do some of the easier maintenance around the property. (Some maintenance we were able to start, like the ballasts, but other things we had to explain and leave for him to do when he had more time.)

The weather was absolutely gorgeous; breezy all of the time. The daytime temps were on the warm side, but still cooler than S. FL (the beating sun was quite a bit more intense though), while the night-time temps were in the 60s and 70s, and we only had 2 light showers run through the entire week. The missionaries live very close to the top of a small mountain. Their balcony overlooks the city and the bay (and that helps keep the breeze from being blocked by other homes). If I lived there, I'd have a hammock and sleep outside often (being on top of the mountain, they had few mosquitoes and no-see-ems). One other bonus, it was mango season, and they have three different types of mangoes in their yard! I had 1 to 3 mangoes every day!

My only regret was not being able to stay longer and do more. Bright-Eyes was only a week old when I left, and I didn't like leaving my wife and the Varmints 4. (I wouldn't have gone if my M-in-law hadn't been down to help her.) Plus, not being there "leaves a hole" at church: I teach the Teen/College & Career Sunday School, run the Wednesday night kids' club (ages 3 to 12) go on the church van route (every service), sing quite a bit of the special music on Sunday mornings, keep up the grounds, and quite a bit more of the day-to-day behind-the-scenes stuff around church. Not to mention, I still need to work to keep food on our table. =) Going to Puerto Rico was quite a bit of work, but in some ways, it was also a vacation!! =)

If you get the chance, a missions trip to anywhere in the Caribbean would be a plus for you. (Provided, of course, rain doesn't pour down on you, the island you're working on doesn't get hit by a hurricane, and you don't stay in an area that the breeze is blocked.)

Another (Normal) Busy Day

Time is just flying by; later today (5.30pm) we'll celebrate the twins' 3rd Birthday. (It seems like they were born a few weeks ago.) Before that happens, I need to mow (about 4-6 acres), help clean up the house, watch the kids (wife is teaching a piano lesson @ 10.00am), and set up a bunch of chairs for the aforementioned party.

As the month ends (the next 2 weeks), I know a few people that would like some painting & drywall work done. Then the first full week of July (7-11) is VBS. The 2nd week of July our 4th Varmint is due (Tuesday, 15 July). The 3rd week of July (21-25) I'm scheduled to go to Puerto Rico with my Dad and help put a roof on a Christian School. And the last week of July I'm supposed to help start a Mixed Martial Arts Class -- as the teacher! (Never mind the fact that Thursday night was my second ever self-defense class.) Additionally, our new pastor has asked me to train one of our members to take over my Sunday School class (6yo-12yo boys) so that I can begin teaching the teen/college & career class. At least I'm busy enough to stay out of trouble.

"Restless" Ramblings

Well I've located everything I couldn't find, and just about figured out everything I need to know to keep track of church funds. It's actually not much work, and pretty easy. That was quite a relief.

An even bigger relief was the email I received this evening from our "almost full-time associate pastor" that lives an hour & a half drive away from here: he WILL be here, and preaching for EVERY SERVICE except next Sunday night (the 17th) for the rest of the month!!!

I would have jumped for joy on reading this email, but I discovered it after waking at "oh-dark-twenty." Which means it's the middle of the night, and I should've been in bed sleeping hours ago. However, sometime around 11.30pm, when I finished updating the Parents of Multiples website, I dozed off in front of the computer. This has happened a few times before... actually... I should probably say: this isn't a rare occurrence... ah... well... I think my wife would roll her eyes at that one too. She would probably say: it happens quite often. (So it's a very good thing I've got an extremely patient wife.)

Between studying for messages (which I know I really don't deliver very well, but I still enjoy them), updating the Parents of Multiples website (which I also enjoy, even though I think the site's inherited look and layout are antiquated and in need of a comprehensive face-lift), attempting to keep up with email (impossible), and all the time I enjoy wasting on FaceBook, I tend to fall asleep at the computer much more than I should.

I've attempted to make it very difficult for myself, but I think I'm just too good of a sleeper. If my eyes close, I have about 3 to 5 seconds to get them open, or I'm out. This is a skill I was born with, but it was well-honed as a security guard in college. College also improved my skill of sleeping through almost anything.

Prior to college, nothing woke me unless someone entered my room (somehow my sleeping brain could tell the difference when the dog wandered in and out). When someone did walk in my room, I'd immediately sit up in bed; by the time I was sitting up, I'd be almost fully awake and quite coherent (although I did tend to forget whatever anyone would tell me). Unfortunately for me, that skill is no longer mine. Perhaps too many years of needing naps during the day (to work 4-8 hours every night or 2) took my edge off. Although, I'd almost be willing to put money on the main reason I lost this skill being the large number of times I would sit up from a sound sleep and slam my forehead into the hard metal rail that supported the bunk above mine. (For some odd reason, my roommates always thought that was extremely funny.)

Of necessity, my reflexes eventually toned down to the point that I wouldn't wake up unless someone sat on my bed, but that too passed. Several of my roommates enjoyed seeing my forehead slam that bar so much, that they'd invite guys in from other rooms just to get them to sit on my bed.

My body coped by not waking unless physically disturbed (being physically touched, hit by spit wads, flatulence by my head, etc.). That too passed: many weeks I would work well over 40 hours per week, and desperately needed much more sleep than I could get. (Ah, you may say, there was a limit of hours you could work for the college and still be enrolled full time. But there was a loophole, and I discovered it. I didn't realize how many hours I was working back then, but while culling tax records last summer, I discovered old pay stubs. Security, maintenance, and the computer lab all submitted my hours, and I received separate checks that, had they been totaled together, would have shown my "low weeks" totaled 40 hours. I found a few weeks totaling over 80 hours.)

Needless to say, by the time college was over, I'd gotten to the point that I'm still at now -- for me to wake up, I need to be continuously shaken very hard (30 - 120 seconds), or keep a very loud alarm clock across the room (because I can turn it off in my sleep), or hear a phone ring. I'm not sure how the phone ring wasn't discovered by my ever-resourceful roommates, but I'm glad it wasn't. It's nice to have one "normal" thing that wakes me up.

Which brings me back to my current situation. Although I like a comfortable chair, I know having one is not conducive to keeping me awake, so I replaced it with a round, backless stool on 5 wheels. It rolls very well, so I usually can't sleep long (30 minutes to an hour) before I fall to the floor. I've discovered my sleeping carcass moves very little and has decent balance, so on occasion, I have been known to last most of the night on the rolling stool.

Tonight, thankfully, I did not. The problem tonight was the way in which I dozed off cut off the blood flow to both arms, both legs, and my derrière. So when I began typing this letter I could only move 2 fingers on my left hand (ring and pinky) -- every other appendage (beside my head) was a nearly lifeless club. I've now regained most of the use of the rest of my limbs, and will be trundling off to bed shortly... as soon as I figure out what labels I should put on this post. Too bad it's almost time to get up; at least I know I'll be asleep within a few seconds of my head hitting the pillow...

Don't forget your smile

If nothing unexpected comes up, at this time next Monday we'll be in a plane headed homeward. Our first week of vacation was enjoyable. I have coughed quite a bit more than normal, but as long as I keep taking the 12-hour Mucinex every 10 hours I've been fine. (As far back as I can remember I've needed to take stronger doses of medicine than "normal" people -- and usually for longer periods of time than others. When my 4 wisdom teeth were pulled, they told me the dose of anesthesia I took should have put someone twice my weight out.)

This morning I donned my favorite winter-time t-shirt: it's a large yellow smiley face wearing a Santa hat. It works rather well at home in south Florida as well as indoors here in Pennsylvania. On the occasions I've gone outside here, I make sure to bring along an extra flannel shirt and hooded, lined, wind-breaker.

Before breakfast my wife informed me she wanted to go shopping at the shops at "The Promenade." I offered to go with her to "Help watch the kids," which is code for, "Please don't leave me home -- alone -- with the Varmints 3 -- again -- for several hours -- on my vacation!!" She doesn't know the code, yet; I expect it won't be long before she deciphers it.

I'm not exactly certain what attraction "The Promenade" has here in PA. I can understand a bunch of shops grouped together, all with exterior exits (and no interior connecting hallways) in south Florida (if the sidewalks have awnings or some other type of rain protection). I understand it in Florida because it's warm there. We only get a few weeks of weather cold enough to warrant breaking out my flannel shirts. However, here in PA it gets cold -- and very windy -- and sometimes there are large patches of snow and ice to traverse when walking and driving outside. Perhaps outdoor shops are a novelty?

Whatever the attraction, we went. It was cold -- and windy -- and although there was no ice on the ground, little white flakes of snow were whipping past us. After a quick walk-through of L.L. Bean (the Varmints 3 enjoyed peering into the fish tank, Daddy liked browsing through the various multi-tools, and Mommy just wanted to be able to say she'd "Been there"), we decided to go down to Barnes & Noble. The wind was chilly, so we didn't dawdle.

The Varmints 3 weren't impressed with Barnes & Noble. They did enjoy digging under the clearance table in the bins of stuffed Halloween toys -- for all of 30 seconds. Then they admired the various tractor calendars -- that lasted less time than digging in the bins. Then we discovered the Children's section. It had a Thomas the Train table set up (and track glued down) to amuse the little people. I quickly went to the clearance tables, and after a bit, picked 3 books. (I was rather pleased that my 3 books retailed over $75, but only cost me $10.) I went back to "supervise" the train table with the Varmints 3 -- and had a good time with the turntable, roundhouse, and miscellaneous rolling stock they had put out for the children. The other small kids were surprised to see a Daddy on the floor playing with trains, so I got a few free hugs before my wife finished and we left.

Our fun had not yet begun. On the way back my wife and I convinced her Mom, that since we were already out, they should stop for groceries, while I took the kids, went down the road to the gas station, and filled the tank. This car automatically locks all the doors when it's put in drive, or park, or switched into reverse. I've never seen a car lock itself up so often. Before leaving the grocery store I took the ignition key off of the ring (so they could swipe the little discount tag at the checkout). Upon getting out at the gas station, I had the presence of mind to grab my windbreaker (the wind was briskly driving the snowflakes across the top of the hill) and the car key, but didn't think to grab my flannel shirt -- or check to be sure the doors were unlocked before closing my door. I did however, check it AFTER I closed it: the doors were not unlocked. Even better, the ignition key doesn't open any locks (a supposed "safety" feature). Best of all, neither "Nana" nor "Pop pop" have ever used the electronic keypad to unlock the doors -- they don't even know if it works! (In my mind, that just did not compute; why would you purchase a car and not ask if everything on it worked?) While pumping the gas, I calmly called my wife -- so as not to cause a panic in the backseat.

The guy in the store liked my Smiley t-shirt with the Christmas hat. He even laughed when I told him it was a "Little colder here than it is at home in Florida." When I got back to the car, Little Bear was very unhappy when I didn't immediately open the door and get in the car. It didn't help to play "peek-a-boo" either -- he freaked out and tears were flowing immediately. Neither Tank nor Sugee Boogee cried though. They matter-of-factly attempted to unhook their car-seat belts. Little Bear was so hysterical his attempts to help them were only a hindrance.

After 20 minutes of coaxing and talking to them through the windows, Tank was disturbed that he still couldn't unhook his belt or get out of his coat -- he REALLY wanted to unlock the door for me -- he wanted to be first. Sugee Boogee was 3/4 of the way out of her car-seat and could reach the lock, but lacked the strength, knowledge, or concern of the boys. Content in her own little world, she calmly played with her seat, sang songs, and waved at me. Little Bear, still bawling uncontrollably, finally wriggled himself up out of the middle seat belt. He unlocked the door as my wife called for the last time (I lost track of the number of calls that went back and forth).

A good Samaritan at the grocery store overheard a phone conversation and offered to bring her (and the rest of the keyring) up to the gas station to let us into the car. She thanked the nice lady as she got out of her car, and waited at the store for our return. It's a good thing she called that last time, I wouldn't have been there when they arrived.

This evening after dinner, Little Bear looked at my t-shirt and said, "I think you are a Smiley man because of your smiley shirt." I tried to explain that we shouldn't forget our smile when scary things happen, because Jesus is watching over us, but he was more interested in hiding under the bed, and not missing his turn in the bathtub. It was an eventful day -- but I just realized, I forgot to ask if they even needed to swipe the little discount tag at the grocery store.