Saturday, May 10, 2003

MAD DOGS AND MORNING MEN

I have a certain routine to my life. Most mornings I get up and let the dogs outside. I leave them out while I shower, dress and make some chewable coffee. Then the fun begins...trying to get the dogs to come in, without waking everyone in the neighborhood at 2 in the morning.

There is no system for "dog herding". Sometimes I merely open the door and all three dogs scurry inside. Those are the good days. Those are the days when I am running ahead of schedule. Those are the days it's not raining. Those are the days the dogs aren't covered in mud. Those are the days of my dreams.

Usually it plays out more like this: Klondike barrels in with paws caked in black clay soil. As I try to remove the mud from his feet while keeping it off my clothes, he slobbers all over me and then, when I call out the door to the other dogs, Klondike goes running back out to get more mud on his paws.

Winston, our "special needs" dog, has never quite understood "dog herding". It's obvious he knows he's supposed to do something when I open the door, but each morning he seems to forget what that something is. That means sometimes he wags his tail at me and barks. Other days he grabs anything he can find, a piece of wood, a chew toy, or a rock, and starts to run around the yard assuming I'm in the mood to chase him. Some days he just sits and howls.

The one option that rarely seems to cross his cute but dimmed mind is to actually come inside. This usually results in me having to scamper about the yard until I can 'trap' him in area where he can't get by me. Then he'll give me a look of resignation, sit down and wag his tail as if to say, "That was fun, wanna go inside now?".

Meanwhile Avery is almost always "hunting". She will find or search for frogs, snakes, mice, rats, and some mysterious creature that apparently lives under our house. Quite regularly she ignores my beckoning and busies herself sticking her nose in the deep crevices of our patio while breathing in and out almost like she's trying to suck some unnamed demon from the depths of our foundation through her snout. Usually, I can get Avery's attention with minimal stomping about, and a few mild expletives.

All of this activity is my "routine"... I'm used to it. Now however my routine is being disrupted. Klondike no longer barges inside as quickly, and Avery is no longer burying her face in the cracks of our cement. Instead, they are both usually found running back and forth along the back fence line with great excitement. They ignore all my attempts to get them indoors and instead give me looks as if to say, "Are you crazy? And miss this?"

This creature is the reason why:



A possum has taken up residence in our back yard.

While Klondike and Avery are now even less inclined to pay attention to my sense of urgency, Winston, of course, doesn't really comprehend why the other dogs are frenzied; however he's perfectly willing to take advantage of this new development by resulting to his fall back position.

He'll wag his tail and bark, grab something to chew on and take off running, or sit and howl.

It's fine comedy really, except most days I miss the humor.

I don't really fault the possum for breaking up my routine... After all our backyard is a virtual hospitality zone. There's dog food...fresh water... and each morning, I put on a show.

AN EMBARASSMENT OF JACKSONIAN PROPORTIONS


I am suffering from indigestion this morning. It's not a result of the band banquet food...I'm fairly certain it is the result of the Spurs game. Is Stephen Jackson going to remember how to play basketball? Would be nice if he'd come around.... ah well there's always Sunday.

A SHIFT IN POLARITY


By the way, the tides have turned in our household. I am no longer the "most" crazed maniac in the room when the Spurs are on. Amy turns into a creature I'm thinking of renaming DAMYAN when the Spurs start to lose. For a while I thought her head might start spinning around. I knew she had gone over the edge when she started screaming for Jack Nicholson to be ejected.

AN EMBARASSMENT OF RICHES


And the winner is:



The Band Banquet turned into Lisa's night. In addition to winning numerous awards, she also snagged a couple of nice scholarships, but the real reward was seeing her shine in the spotlight of recognition for her hard work and dedication as a musician, as a student, but importantly as a person.



Even the food was decent....I think I'll savor the last band banquet for some time.




Friday, May 09, 2003

BY ANY OTHER NAME

I'm not sure what the word "Banquet" really means, but to me it translates into: mediocre food and speeches - both of which are tough to swallow.

Tonight is the New Braunfels "Band Banquet". This is an annual event of importance, at least to band members. Various awards are handed out along with plates of glazed chicken breasts.

This evening's banquet is meaningful for two reasons: It's Lisa's senior year so she'll be featured in the annual slide show comparing baby pictures to current photos, and secondly, she's our last kid in band so this is our last band banquet.

Another component of the band banquet, besides the wilted salad and your choice of weak iced tea or water, is the reading of the "Senior Wills". Every departing senior writes a "will" bequeathing items, words of wisdom, etc., to those fellow members of the band who will be returning next year. I would guess there are 60 to 100 seniors in the band. Each of their wills will be read one right after the other. The seniors don't actually read their wills, this is done by the band director so that she can edit them on the fly, stumble over bad handwriting, and make sure nothing too risque is said. As you might imagine she breathes life into each every one of these well written bits of prose.

The same basic recipe is adhered to with the meal we are served, a distinct lack of spice....force fed.

And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.

I read THIS STORY with some interest. Researchers say they've determined Jesus died at 3pm on Friday, April 3rd, 33 AD, and rose again on Sunday, April 5th at 4am.

I applaud these folks for spending their time determining this...Hopefully it matters to someone.

I am thankful that God knows the minute details of my life. I'm just not certain that He wants me to focus on the minutiae of His.

I tend to think of God as a "big picture" kind of guy...

It reminds me of something Gerald Mann wrote, and I'm paraphrasing, but it was basically that Christians too often climb foothills and then stop, look down and spend their time talking about where they've been. He contends we should be looking up because there are more mountains to climb.



"NUFF SAID"

This quote speaks for itself:
"I was able to first snap the radius and then within another few minutes snap the ulna at the wrist and from there, I had the knife out and applied the tourniquet and went to task."

"I may never fully understand the spiritual aspects of what I experienced, but I will try".

"The source of the power I felt was the thoughts and prayers of many people, most of whom I will never know."

Those are the words of Aron Ralston, the climber who broke the bones in his own arm, and then amputated it after being trapped by a boulder.

I can't envision how anyone could summon the strength to do what this guy did....at least not without help.

The LORD gives strength to his people; the LORD blesses his people with peace.

Thursday, May 08, 2003

HOMES ARE FOR THE BIRDS

The barn swallows ignore me now.
Every year barn swallows return to our front porch to nest. It has become such a regular occurrence Amy and I no longer remove their nest which is composed primarily of mud, and dog hair both of which are plentiful in our yard. It seems silly to make them build a new home each year, so we just leave it there.

When the swallows first return I have to establish a relationship with them. Since I leave for work in the dark of night the swallows are often disturbed as I bustle out the door gripping my half gallon mug of coffee and fumbling for my keys. The "Mama" swallow will squawk, fly away and then dive bomb toward me in an effort to protect her nest and the babies it conceals. Papa swallow will swoop around but his flight path never extends beyond about 10 feet away. Every year it's the same thing. Mama squawks and Papa flutters and I try to reassure them by saying something soothing like, "Oh I'm not bothering you.. Shut up!".

Inevitably this dance is played out for several days in a row and then it suddenly stops. Today I noticed Mama swallow in her nest as I left. She was asleep. Across the ledge sat the Papa. He was awake but unmoved by my presence. Their home is safe from me and if they're lucky a few dog hairs may fall off me as I pass which they can add to their foundation.

FOUNDATIONS BUILT ON DREAMS

Several years ago our neighborhood was invaded, by the largest homebuilder in America. This company prides itself in building a wide variety of homes, quickly. They are easy to criticize. Some of the workmanship certainly doesn't appear to be top notch and the home designs are limited. Hundreds of homes have surrounded us.

I've been thinking about these houses for the past few weeks from a different perspective though.

I try to walk every day around my neighborhood. I watch these homes built from start to finish. I've also seen something else. Home dreamers.

Home dreamers are the names I've given the couples, usually young couples, I see sitting in their cars in front of "SOLD" signs planted in front of an empty lot often overgrown with weeds. I see them weeks later venturing out of their cars to walk over newly poured foundations pointing to plumbing lines with excitement. The houses that I find easy to deride as cheap and uniform mean something else to "Home Dreamers". Maybe they see quiet nights together in the living room, gatherings with friends on their back porch, kids in the yard...a garden where love and a family can bloom.

Sometimes I wonder if God isn't like those "Home Dreamers". Sitting outside our lives, watching as we grow, envisioning what we will become and when our houses will be ready for Him.

It took me too long to let God inside. I squawked and fluttered and ruffled my feathers. The welcome mat is out now though

I feel welcome in His house too.

"Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. What kind of house will you build for me?"

Irony anyone?

Only one thought early this morning with little time to blog. Is it not Divine Comedy that the commercial that ran the most during the Spurs butt whuppin' of the Lakers on television last night was an ad promoting a movie called "Bruce Almighty"?

Bruce Bowen: 27 points, 7 three pointers.

Life is so ironic...and this morning so, so sweet.
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Best quote from the LA Times: "..an embarrassment of Samakian proportions"

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

Hold your comments please

One member of our Spurs Party/Seance/Voodoo Ritual/Potluck Monday night apparently read my remarks on the event -not here, the only people who actually admit to reading this blog are me and a kid in Oklahoma- in an email from Amy and said I should turn on the "comment" feature on my blog. It is on, you just have to read through my entire ranting to get to it which I've found pretty much eliminates the need for a comment feature anyway.

If only all of life's contentious moments were handled so easily.

So a Rabbi, a Priest and a Preacher...

Oftentimes my life parrots the line from the movie "Broadcast News" where Albert Brooks says, "Amazing. I say it here, it comes out there"

A large part of my job is to think up story ideas and try to make sure we have stories on the air dealing with "what people are talking about". This means that quite often what I'm talking about is somehow twisted into a "news story". As we were kicking around story ideas the other day I was talking about praying for the Spurs to make their free throws and it was decided we'd have a reporter talk to a Pastor, a Priest, and a Rabbi about whether it's okay to pray for the outcome of sporting events. Interestingly only the Rabbi said it was wrong. His contention is we should focus our prayers on more important issues like healing and peace.

No argument here, but where is that dividing line between honest prayer and trivial pursuit?

Don't have the answer to that one.
I'll pray on it. I hope that's okay God.

I have my Swami turban ready

All modesty aside, I do need to mention that in my blog Monday, hours before the game, I said I would "hopefully get a couple hours sleep with fanciful dreams of Shaquille O'Neal fouling out early dancing in my head."

Shaq Daddy fouled out in the fourth.

Feel free to now refer to me as the "Prophet Michael", which leaves my previous title of "Philosopher King" up for grabs.

Speaking of swollen heads

I found this story uplifting. It's nice to know that although the scenery has changed, in some ways life hasn't traveled too far off the path from the days of "Leave it to Beaver".

With the proper soap we can all probably pull our heads out of any number of tight spots.

Ooops, sorry...I've already relinquished the title of Philosopher King.

Tuesday, May 06, 2003

Have you heard the one about....

Okay, so a Pastor, a social worker, two church elders, a hospital chaplain and a radio guy get together to watch a basketball game... Who gets the "best behavior of the night award"?
I've seen calmer crowds at methamphetamine mixers.
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A good time was had by all at our impromptu Spurs watching party last night, especially since the Spurs won. However I'm still trying to find a gentle way to explain how several members of our normally pious group stooped to bargaining with God for free throws, speaking in tongues that are not necessarily familiar among conventional baptists, cheering injuries, and at times falling to their knees in idol worship. All we were lacking was a golden calf.

Don't have a cow man




From the making the minor monumental files: The above shot is of a cow from the "Cow Parade", a traveling "art project" that raises money for various causes. It's in San Antonio now...Dozens of cow statues are stationed around town...This particular cow however has been banished. It was at San Antonio International Airport. Apparently the city's former Mayor, Henry Cisneros, decided it was bad art, and offensive.
The airport folks say he's the only person to complain...guess that's enough because that cow has been put out to pasture. Destined for whatever happens to fiberglass cows in the end....Maybe they're made into those burgers the Bob's Big Boy statues hold up.

We can get rid of Gaucho Cows...but this guy is still riding around town.

Speaking of riding tight

Best quote from an LA Times columnist describing last night's game and the Spur's defense:" Bruce Bowen was constantly in front of Bryant. I think he even showed up in a couple of Kobe's Sprite commercials"

And the best thing about last night's game is....we get to do it all over again tomorrow.






Monday, May 05, 2003

California dreamin'

Woke up this morning to a wonderful surprise, an email from my California niece Chelsea.




The email asked what I thought were pretty easy questions (she's working on a school project), but the more I thought about it, the questions that I thought were simplest were the toughest. I mean, do you really know what your absolute "favorite food" is? How about your all time favorite song? I'm old, fat and half deaf, I've eaten a lot of foods and listened to a lot of music...remembering it all, much less narrowing down the choices to one proved more thought provoking than I expected. I do know my favorite color is blue. I don't know why though. I think people are asked that question a lot when they're young so everyone just picks a color to have an answer.

It was my first email from Chelsea which is always exciting. I have a good email relationship with my other two nieces (ahem...right Sarah? right Emily?), maybe this can spur better communication on my part with the California contingent.

Spurring California.

I did carefully avoid all mention of basketball, since Chelsea lives not too far from Los Angeles and has no doubt been corrupted by the evil forces of darkness known more commonly in South Texas as "The Lakers".

Tonight the Spurs go up against L.A.... another late start... I will pay in the morning but I will watch tonight, and hopefully get a couple hours sleep with fanciful dreams of Shaquille O'Neal fouling out early dancing in my head.

School's out

I've been focusing on Tiffany and Lisa's graduations these days, but Amy today is wrapping up her first semester of college. She's been writing frantically for the past few days knocking out a treatise on vegetarianism for her propaganda spouting leftist English teacher. Amy didn't need to learn how to write, she writes very well and has the best head for grammar and spelling of anyone I know (and I'm an editor), but I think she got a real education into higher education with this class. There's more to come...I can't wait to see what her Political Science professor is like.

The best thing about her class was that she started blogging. She says she's going to stop writing that blog now and start a new one... I'm going to hold her to that.

It never hurts to know what your wife is thinking...even if she has to type it out and post it on the web.




Sunday, May 04, 2003

The Party's over

Prom night was a wonderful success...Prom day was relatively uneventful in terms of the usual number of crises too. Lisa was stunning. She has blossomed





We didn't get to see her date except digitally...you might as well too:



I think she kicked off her heels to add to her date's stature....A good sign in any budding relationship.

The Party's just begun

A good service today, dedication of the land for our new building. A challenge to our small congregation of what it will mean to us financially, and spiritually. I once again am reminded that I am not a public speaker. It's odd, I can talk on the radio, but put me up in front of people and I become emotional. I'm not sure if it only happens in front of people I love and when I'm talking about growing in a relationship with God, or whether I'd act the same way if I were making a pitch for Samsonite luggage. In any case, I got through it... I hope the message I was trying to convey got through as well.
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Party to Prayer

In Sunday school we talked about prayer, how we think of it, what it does for us and what we expect out of it. It was a fascinating conversation that provided great insight into our collective thinking. I was struck by this idea of how bizarre I have at times let prayer become in my life. It made me think of the "Covenant Casino" again, except now it was stocked with Prayer Slot Machines. Do I keep feeding in prayers and hope to get a "pay off" from above? The Jesus Jackpot...

I was glad to realize my beliefs about prayer are much like my thoughts on forgiveness. God calls on us to forgive, not only for the person we are forgiving, but also to free ourselves of the burdens that encumber us by not forgiving.

I think God calls on us to pray not only to convey our thoughts and hopes to Him, but also to maintain a personal relationship with Him.

I don't know how prayer works, why some prayers appear to be answered, and others do not. I do know praying makes me feel closer to God...and when you bring it down to the very basics....that's all I'm really praying for anyway.
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