Knight, wider

When I think of a knight, I think of a medieval warrior ahorseback with a sword or lance bravely fighting against tyranny in the name of his majestic king. An honorable and trustworthy young lad jousting for the honor of a lady. Or sometimes a souped-up Mustang or Trans-Am but never an overweight old man with a checkered history, questionable morals and faulty politics. But that all changed this week when it was announced that Ted Kennedy would receive an honorary knighthood. What foe is he going to battle against? The all-you-can-eat buffet? We're gonna need extra links in the chainmail suit for this one! He will slay the dragon but then he's gonna barbecue it and leave the princess in the moat to drown. Feel free to print out this page and color the knight in Kennedy's honor. Yellow would be appropriate.

Venomous

That's nothing. I had to drive my mother in law all the way to the doctor the other day!

That's funny right there!

Now be nice! This picture cracked me up when I saw it but you need to be nice with your captions. Be original. Leave Bill's name out of it and keep it clean. I promise not to leave it at the top for very long so we don't have to look at it any longer than it takes to make fun of her.

Their patron saints are Smith & Wesson

Ok, don't rag on me cuz S&W didn't make that particular gun or something! It's just a funny picture! Lighten up. Besides we all know that neither Catholics nor Muslims will be in Heaven. Or most Church of Christ.

h/t imao

Ooh, wow.

You might not realize just how lucky you are. Did you know how close we all came to total disaster? A scant 44,000 miles, that's how close! I hope you ducked as the meteor thing practically grazed the earth. C'mon people, is this really news? OK, I know that in the scheme of things (the size of the universe) that 44,000 miles is not very far but would you really describe it as a close shave? 44,000 miles is like...I don't know...from here to oh, maybe El Paso. If you've ever driven to El Paso you know that it takes forever! It's nowhere near here! Also, if you are a member of the International Astronomical Union and you use words like "geosynchronous", then you gotta get out more!

Storytime in parts

--Part VIII--

Even the house itself now seemed lonely and depressed. What had seemed just yesterday as busy and homey and full of life now seemed desolate and drab. Colorful yellow and blue curtains hung mockingly over the kitchen sink looking out to the morning sun that rose so slowly as to seem to dread casting it's light on the situation. A few unwashed dishes sat uncharacteristically in the sink not unlike the middle-aged woman sitting at the table. Every light was on and the coffee in the pot was cold.

The woman had cried away whatever makeup she had been wearing and her cotton dress was wrinkled and as tired-looking as she was. The table wore a slightly stained white table cloth, held a three-quarters full coffee mug and supported the elbows of a mother who terribly missed her little girl. She had not heard anything about Marilyn in several hours and had gone from concerned to panic to nearly paralyzed in the meantime. Every horror than can be imagined had scorched across her mind in unrelenting succession as she watched the phone and the door through the night every moment hoping it would be the last she would go without seeing Marilyn's smiling face. The minutes dragged on as she remembered the last words she had said to her daughter and regret kicked at her heart while it was down.

The phone had not completed ringing the first time when she grabbed the receiver and barked "Hello!", more of a command to start talking than a greeting. Officer Blunt had gotten only a few more hours sleep than the sleepless mother but his calm voice was exactly what she needed to hear. He had seen "Brother Thundermuffin" at the coffee shop early this morning and the old farmer had told the officer about seeing a young girl and a dog on his property.

"Kids these days..." he muttered. "We didn't do stuff like that in my day! We had respect for other people's property when I was young. That's what's wrong this world. No respect for other people...blah, blah, blah".

Blunt skipped the details of the old man's conversation when he talked to the mother but assured her he was heading over to the man's house right now and implored her to stay right where she was and wait for his call. He would call as soon as he found her but it would be best for her to wait at the house in case Marilyn came home on her own. The news, although less than stellar, was as welcome as a deep breath after being under water. The mother silently mouthed a prayer and tried unsuccessfully not to cry again.

Here it comes

Hang on gun fans, here it comes! The ball has started rolling and is picking up speed and soon we'll all be lucky to have BB guns in our Obamanation. Second Amendment, Schmecond Amendment! Better buy 'em now while you can! Let me know what you purchase.

My most beautiful

And the award goes to...'53 Buick Convertible! I love the chrome. I love the lines. Two doors and still huge! Eye candy at its height!

Thanks DR

Gotta love stupid-funny rednecks!

If you brand your cattle with spray paint, you might be a redneck!

If you take your bull to senior prom, you might be a redneck!

If you tattoo your girlfriend's initials on the side of your bull, you might be a redneck!

If you drive a 3/4 ton Pontiac, you might be a redneck!

It's hard to see her but Cody Shane's girlfriend is still in the passenger seat.

Good friends, good church, good grief!

Everybody has a bad day every once in a while. Sometimes that day can stretch into weeks or months and we've all been there. Well, anybody with teenagers has probably been there. This week has been pretty good. Last week was one of the worst I've ever had. Several times this week I've wondered what people do that don't have Jesus in their lives and don't have Christian friends and a good church to come beside them and hold them up. Where do people go when they need help and advice and wisdom? Do you have friends that would pray for you in the middle of the night? Do you have friends that will come to your house just to sit with you or help you do things that you could do by yourself but don't want to? I do. I have friends like that. I have friends that take time out of their busy, stressful day to help me, council me, or just text me to let me know they were praying for me. All I can say is, thank you. Thank you so much!

Job 2:11-13

Rules to live by...

You can debate all day long whether these apply to you or not and hopefully you will never have to figure it out but if this ever happened I hope you can remember the rules. Maybe you have seen them before...


And if I seem to be looking at you funny, it's because I'm remembering #21.


Thanks DT

My point is...

Ok, yea, thanks for the input on the last post, "Interesting Article". Evidently I was the only one who found it interesting. So anyhow, here's my point which I got from the comments section of the linked article: Even with my Concealed Handgun Permit, there are certain places that it is illegal for me to carry my gun and yet I have to admit that unless there is a metal detector at the door, I'm probably carrying. Not everywhere, but most places. And the only way you will ever know if I'm carrying is if I have to pull it out to save a life and there is no other way. I am trained and prepared, knowing the consequences and the benefits and I would rather face a jury of my peers than have a good guy get killed (me or you). So, that's my point.

Interesting article

But even more interesting comments afterward. What do you think?

Catholics get all the cool stuff!

I don't think Baptists even have any patron saints much less this one. We do have Bacon Explosions though and I think that's better.

Storytime in parts

--Part VII--

The human body is an amazing machine of self-preservation. When the vocal cords detect the presence of water or other liquid they sometimes will constrict causing a partial blocking of breathing in which, in the case of near drowning, the situation can last just long enough to block any water from entering the lungs and enable a person to survive for a few seconds under water even if it is unexpected. The condition, laryngospasm, is exactly what happened to Marilyn in the few seconds she was in the creek. Scared, wet and confused, she pulled herself up the other bank and sat down and cried. The clandestine creek had swollen in recent rains that also enabled a growth spurt in the tall grass which made the rivulet almost invisible to Marilyn as she had run out of the barn. Her realization of it failed to make her feel any better, though, and now her situation was dire indeed.

Her mother did not know what kind of dire situation her daughter was in but she now knew that she was missing. After Officer Blunt had taken Ike to the jail, he called Marilyn's mother and told her what he knew of the situation. He assured her that Marilyn would be home soon and that everything would be fine and he was pretty sure that he was not lying to the woman but mainly wanted to make her feel better by saying it. Nobody knew where she was or if she was okay or not but how do you say that to a mother? To be honest, he had not had time to think about Marilyn since the Ike incident. His day since that event had been gorged with interviews of town folk, phone calls, paperwork and other investigation as well as visits to the medical examiner, the chief of police and the mayor. Blunt's first murder investigation was wearing him out but he knew that Marilyn's mother would be anxious to hear about her.

In the meantime, Teddy was quite excited about this new aspect of the adventure. Neither he nor Marilyn knew how to get to the other one without walking what seemed like miles down the creek until it was shallow enough for her to walk across it to him. She did what she had to do to get to him and then fell down next to him exhausted and buried her face in the fur of his neck and let all of her weariness and frustration wet his collar. He sensed her agony and sat still next to his friend until she finally relaxed and lay down next to him. Pretty soon both were asleep in the grass.

Bullet Bob and why I don't care about the Super Bowl

One does not read this blog for the sports. You have probably noticed. The Olympics were pretty interesting because you don't get to see that kind of stuff very often and I like to watch rodeos but other than that, there's not much room in my life for televised sports. I can appreciate how much effort goes into such games but I'm just really not interested anymore.

I saw in the news that "Bullet" Bob Hayes was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame this week and it hit me that the reason I lost interest in the game started with him. He was actually my hero when I was in grade school. I had his poster on my wall over my bed and loved to pretend that I was as fast as he was when I ran. He motivated me as a boy of about 6 or 7 to run hard and play hard and enjoy the game of football more than any other game. I wanted to be just like "Bullet" Bob.

I don't remember how old I was exactly when I heard the news that Bob Hayes had been arrested on drug charges. Looking back on it, what he did was not too uncommon for today's world including sports heroes but back in the day when I was just a young boy wanting to be like that man, what he did was unthinkable. I vividly remember going into my room and slowly taking down his poster from my wall and folding it up and putting it in the trash. I was devistated.

I went on to play football in middle school and high school and loved the game much more than it loved me. You know the joke, "I may be short but I'm slow!" That was me and so I knew pretty quick that my future in football was short-lived. I still enjoyed watching the game some, it was just that seeing grown men abuse the system that put them there, go on strike for more money and use all kinds of drugs and all that stupid stuff just put a bad taste in my mouth for professional games.

This isn't about bashing Bob Hayes. I just don't care who wins the Super Bowl today. I am all about the Super Bowl party that I'm about to go to. Who knows, maybe they will even have some good commercials?

Things I would rather be doing than watching the Super Bowl:

Storytime in parts

--Part VI--

Overall, today was turning into a great time. His ribs were a bit sore behind his left front leg but Teddy was not going to hold one kick from a surly ol' judge against a beautiful, freedom-filled afternoon. What more could a guy want besides a brisk walk in the sunshine with his best friend across fields and down roads, behind buildings and houses and even the occasional respite under a tree? Sometimes he thought he might miss the little metal water bowl back at the house but as long as Marilyn was walking and talking to him, Teddy felt pretty good about things. He had confidence that wherever they were going that she would take care of him and so he was as carefree as ever.

This buoyancy of spirit, however, was confined to only half of the daring duo. Marilyn trudged along with the stubborn naievite of a child but was slowly starting to forget how this plan was supposed to end. She knew that she and Teddy needed to get out of this town but the thoughts of where and how were slowly walking their way through her mind with each step she took. Recollections of her now-former home began to creep painfully into attention along with an irritating realization that she was hungry and thirsty. She and Teddy had walked several miles at an expeditious pace with few stops and she was realizing that she was not only spent physically and emotionally but she was also probably lost as well.

Marilyn stopped beside a pole barn and looked around. Teddy watched her for a second but was quickly distracted by what might be in the barn and proceeded inside. Marilyn followed, welcoming the coolness of the open-sided barn and was glad to find an old mower to sit on.

"Here, Teddy. Which one do you want?" she asked, holding out a choice of candy bars to the dog.

Teddy sniffed the first one he came to and tried to bite it but Marilyn pulled it away long enough to unwrap it and then handed it back to him.

"Good, because I don't really care for peanuts." The two of them shared their few bites of candy and Marilyn slumped back in the seat of the mower with a sigh.

Teddy was just finishing his when Marilyn saw his ears go up and forward and his body stiffened. He licked the last of the candy from his lips and let out a soft growl. Marilyn then heard the voices and looked up as two men in overalls approached the small barn. They were talking to each other but one man seemed quite disturbed and was gesturing with one hand as they walked. As they got closer, Marilyn recognized the gesturing man as the man from church of whom her father had labeled "Brother Thundermuffin" for his ability to raise a ruckus about everything that happened at church, none of it ever being done to his liking.

Marilyn slid off the side of the mower and was holding tight to Teddy as the two men got closer. She just knew that if they caught her they would call the cops and she would be put in jail and who knows what would happen to Teddy then? Her imagination quickly went to places she refused to go physically and she silently promised Teddy again that she would protect him.

A quick "C'mon" was all she said and all it took to bring Teddy in right behind her as she flashed out of the far end of the barn and right over the edge of the unseen creek into and under the rapidly moving water! She heard a splash, a bark and then nothing but darkness. The two startled men were unsure what they just saw.

I'm a model, you know what I mean? And I do my little turn on the catwalk!

A female co-worker had a copy of Vogue magazine in the office today and I glanced through it and wondered: Looking through a womens' magazine all you see are beautiful female models in the ads. When you look at a mens' magazine all you see are beautiful female models in the ads. Where do male models wind up working?

I'm no schmuck!

I may not be alot of things that I should be. I may be alot of things that I should not be. One thing I ain't, though, is a schmuck. I'm not even sure of the definition of the word. It's sort of one of those things that you know it when you see it. I hate the feeling of someone trying to make me out to be a smuck when I'm obviously not one. It's sort of the same feeling you get when you're a tourist. I don't want to be like everybody else and I don't want people thinking I'm stupid. Am I the only one knowing what I'm talking about?

Here's my example: I joined the National Rifle Association in August of last year. Without exaggeration, it was within two weeks after joining that they sent me a letter asking me to renew my membership. They had not even sent me my membership card and they already wanted me to send them more money. Now, I understand that the NRA does not survive without money (I'm not stupid, remember?) but if I had wanted to sign up for multiple years I would have done so. I also don't like being asked if I want a fried pie at McDonald's for the same reason and yet I understand why they ask -- because some people are schmucks!

At least twice a month I get a warm and loving personal letter from Wayne LaPierre who is the Executive Vice President of the NRA. Each one tells me how smart I am for joining and how valued I am to the association and how they could not do it without me. I'm sure a miniscule part of that is true but today's letter said that if I would just renew now that I would "save the NRA the cost of sending more notices". No (head-bob) kidding! I have a better idea. If they would just quit sending me notices it would save them money on sending me notices! And quit calling me Todd..."Dear Todd", "Thanks to you, Todd", "You're so hot, Todd! Love, Wayne" What do they think I am? A schmuck?!

Storytime in parts

--Part V--

The scene had died down outside of Ike's store with Judge Maloff and Melissa along with officer Blunt all coming to the conclusion at the same time that the real problem of the day was going to be inside the store. It seems that the violence and commotion outside was being outdone by the havoc being played out inside. The judge held his daughter behind his back while Officer Blunt approached the front door and for the second time today put his right hand on his holstered security-six.

Walter Blunt, tall and baby-faced for his twenty six years, had plans to become a veterinarian in high school but realized quickly that his grades would be a difficult hurdle to get over for such lofty plans. Serious and agreeable, Walter got along well with everybody in school including his teachers but found it hard to make more than average grades in class. He had many acquaintences but few real friends and had attended the local college with the help of his mother and with extreme effort and a couple of extra years had managed to graduate with a degree in criminal justice. He knew his mother was proud of him but he had few glories as his life's history had unfolded so far. He enjoyed the aspect of his job that involved helping people but in this quiet, quaint, quadrate little box of a community he felt his passions underutilized. That all seemed to be changing in this one moment.

Officer Blunt reached the door and looked inside. He could only see Ike's ankle and foot sticking out behind a wooden aisle filled with groceries but he could hear Ike screaming, crying, rambling incoherently and evidently doing some sort of damage to his store. Just as Blunt opened the door a worn wooden plank from the floor was pried up and tossed over the aisle nearly hitting Blunt and sending cereal boxes flying out of its path. Blunt felt himself breathing and heard himself calling the merchant's name as everything seemed unreal. Time seemed to be moving through the most narrow of hour glass as the young officer moved his body heavily around the corner.

"Ike, stop it! Aw, gee, stop it, Ike!" Blunt grabbed Ike from behind and pulled him away from the hole in the floor with Ike bringing part of a corpse with him as they both crashed into a gondola full of snacks.

"I told her to just shut up but she wouldn't do it! All day long she nagged! I told her to shut up, I told her!" cried Ike. "Even when she was dead she was loud! She wouldn't shut up! I had to do it! I had to!"

And Marilyn thought her day was bad...

just to see if i could do it

Here's a post to prove I can do it on Ambien (2hours ago). I used to live by a guy who put a 4x8 sheet of plywood in his front yard with the words, "Stay off of my lawn Mr. McGinnis!" I thought it was strange until I met McGinnis.

James 1:8

A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.

Mmm...bacon explosion

Wow! Pork with pork! I never would have thought of it. Butter me up and wrap me in a 5x5 bacon weave. Ooh! Oh! Then dip me in some jalapeno cheese sauce. It's like fat-boy p&rn.

Ecclesiastes 10:2

A wise man's heart directs him toward the right, but the foolish man's heart directs him toward the left.

Yea, what he said!

I was not expecting this from a site that is often as stupid as mine.

You have a what?

Storytime in parts

--Part IV--

Teddy was unsure about why everybody was yelling but he was sure he did not want another kick so he stayed a little way off even from Marilyn. He was not scared of her at all but afraid to get too close so even though she called him, he felt safer just hanging back for awhile. Marilyn had started to cry now as the adults discussed the situation. The judge was stomping around saying he would kill the dog if he came closer to his daughter. Officer Blunt, with his hand on his holstered revolver, was walking toward Teddy talking baby-talk but Marilyn feared the worst as Teddy looked like he was about to believe Blunt's flattery.

Marilyn took off running, looking back and yelling, "Run, Teddy! C'mon! C'mon boy!"

Teddy needed no further encouragement and ran after Marilyn with his ears back and tail down and the two of them kept on running for several hundred yards. The two men were hollering at her to come back and that it would be alright but Marilyn knew better than to believe them. She knew she was going to be in trouble now but she kept on running until she could run no further. Teddy ran along beside her enjoying the brisk run and glad to get away from the others. He slowed to a trot now as Marilyn continued at a fast walk. She glanced behind her from time to time expecting the whole town to be after her and her best friend and she promised Teddy as they continued that nobody would ever take him from her. What Marilyn failed to know was that Ike was keeping both officer and judge busy with what would turn out to be larger matters.

Unaware of what was happening at the crime scene, Marilyn and Teddy hiked towards the horizon. Thoughts of home and family flew across the child's mind as she went. Quite sure she would never see them again, she padded on, determined to remove Teddy from harm no matter the consequences. Her heart was still racing as she remembered how this trip started and she wondered how long it would take until her mother came looking for her, interrogating her with questions about milk, Teddy, and...candy bars! She realized to her horror that she had accidentally run out of Ike's with a candy bar in each hand and had not thought about them since she first heard the commotion start when she was inside trying to decide which one to buy. She had slammed one into each pocket as the fracas ensued and now it dawned on her that not only was she running away with a wanted dog but she, too, was a wanted outlaw; a common thief on the run.

Her choices were clear. There was only one way out of this.

I remember her now

Three feet tall, 45 pounds and throwing poo? I think I used to date her!

Quiet cussing

Several times lately I have heard people cuss but when they come to the naughty word they say it real quietly. What's up with that? You know how it is. "What the (say it real quiet) is going on here?" Does the volume determine the offensiveness? It's also usually accompanied by a quick head-bob on the word for effect.

Storytime in parts

--Part III--

Teddy was disappointed with the lack of contents of the Hershey wrapper he found outside of Ike's. He was sure he needed something to eat and continued to search for a snack all the while keeping an eye out for Marilyn. Hopefully she would bring him something so he kept close to the door the best he could but there was alot to see and smell around here. In fact, something smelled wonderfully dead but he was unsure exactly where it was.

He saw something else that he thought might be tasty just as two cars pulled into the small parking lot. To Teddy, the only thing better than a snack might be a new friend and so he ran typically dangerously close to where the first car was parking and waited for the door to open with his long tail waving a welcome. Maybe the new friends might even be bringing him something to eat, he thought, and drooled just a little at the anticipation.

The first car to enter the lot was driven by Irwin Maloff, the county judge; a man with little patience for much of anything besides his pre-teen daughter who was passenger of the big Buick and who had whined long enough about wanting a Fanta that his Honor finally stopped to get her one. He knew she would probably just drink a few sips and throw it away but buying her one was easier than trying to argue against it.

The vehicle to pull in just behind the Buick was a squad car, gleaming black and white with importance and conspicuousness, driven by Officer Walter Blunt, the town's finest. Blunt had two whole years on the police force and had seen Judge Maloff down the street and had decided to pull into Ike's after him with some guise of buying something in hopes that the judge might see him and who knows what benefit that might bring even if it was to just break the monotony of the day? Blunt parked the cruiser just as Melissa Maloff screamed.

"Ow! He bit me!" squealed the startled girl.

She had not seen Teddy until she had opened the door and he nosed in to smell her. When he did the girl jumped and her knee hit Teddy's mouth with a thud. Teddy jumped back and waited for the girl to get out of the car so they could greet each other properly but before he could even catch a whiff of her a heavy boot crashed into his ribs just behind his front leg and lifted Teddy up and over a surprising distance. His yelp was as hurtful to Marilyn as the blow was to Teddy. She came busting out the door with each hand unconciously clutching a candy bar and screamed at the judge who was eyeing Teddy for another potential wallop.

The judge was hollering at Teddy, Melissa was crying, partly from fright, partly from embarrassment, Officer Blunt was swearing he saw it all and Ike was being ignored as he cried something unintelligible about "killed her" and "beating of her heart". Marilyn, too, was adding to the chaos as she called for Teddy to come to her and at the same time pleading his case to the adults at the scene. It seemed unreal to Teddy who failed to understand why they were all screaming. All this and he was pretty sure nobody was going to feed him anything.

Sassypants Dori-Belle

This is my sweet biscuit Dori. She's not big enough to jump into the bed of a truck but if you don't think she's a real dog then you and 4 of your toughest friends meet me outside right now!

Storytime in parts

--Part II--

From the front door of his little store Ike Elsheim had fair perusal of most of the town. He stood there for a moment after turning the "Open" sign over and unlocking the door. Probably nobody would have even noticed the door being locked during the middle of the day. Business had been slow and if anybody did ask he would just say he had personal business for a few moments and that should put a stop to any further inquiry.

Lank and homely with narrow eyes and a Roman nose, Ike was extremely intelligent, always civil if not a bit too passive, and was able to seem interested in his customers even when they bored him with their domestic stories when he sacked their groceries. Could they not understand he just wanted to do his job in peace and quiet? The women (who made up the vast majority of his customers) all seemed to want to tell Ike about their kids, their hair, their silly husbands. Ike just smiled and nodded his familiar, if ungainly, head. "Get moving, get moving!" he shouted silently in his mind while he smiled at the customer.

As Ike turned away from the front door he looked at the spot and picked up a solitary black hair from the wooden floor and with his usual acute tidiness he casually dropped the hair into a half-full trash can, emptied the trash into a larger can and then took that can to the dumpster. He was strangely calm. His heart rate was back to normal. His hands betrayed no tremor. Even his mind seemed serene, almost peaceful. He should have done this a long time ago, he thought. It was liberating. An involuntary "Ha!" surprised him as it left his lips and spawned another half-giggle as a reaction to it.

He caught a glimpse of a figure outside and looked up to see young Marilyn run past his door laughing at the dog nipping at her heels. Ike felt almost as carefree and innocent as the little girl running in circles in his parking lot. He knew Marilyn from the neighborhood. Her mother often brought her and sometimes several other kids into the store and he did not usually mind since they were all well-disciplined. He opened the door and with oddly patient repetition called her name and invited her in.

Marilyn sighed and walked to the door, canine companion in tow. Ike was surprised that she did not ask to bring the dog into the store but assumed correctly that she knew better.

"Sit down right there, Teddy. I'll be out in a minute. Ok? Good boy!"

At this point Ike felt like he could have welcomed anyone into the store and not have to worry about his cryptic concealment. The dirty deed had been cleaned up, evidence obliterated and his conscience almost absolved. He smiled what nearly felt like a genuine smile as she traipsed in.

"Mr. Ike", she said, "Do I have enough here for a gallon of milk and a piece of candy?" She held out an open hand that had clenched a dollar bill.

"Yes, Marilyn, I think you do." Ike said generously.

Marilyn beamed and skipped over to the candy aisle just a few feet from the spot. Ike's heart gained a couple of beats but he stifled his worry with the fact that she was paying attention to nothing that was not sugar-filled. Ike watched as Marilyn scanned each confection-filled container. He found himself nervously pacing behind the counter watching the girl with one eye as he walked and realized that he was needlessly working himself into anguish as she lollygagged. He knew that there was nothing incriminating in all the store much less to the eyes of a candy-starved school girl.

Ike tried to busy himself with tidying up around the cash register, his mind now unfortunately ablaze with self-questions and insecurity. He had left nothing to chance and had been agonizingly thorough in his clean up and disposal. Why worry? He checked the status of the girl's decision and heard a low, invariable thud coming steadily from her direction. He imagined the girl softly tapping her foot but could see little movement in her legs at all except to slowly slide to the next choice of candy.

The noise continued its rythmic cadence as Ike felt compelled to walk around the counter and have a closer look. Marilyn was now standing exactly on the spot and he felt sure she would hear the noise and ask him about it but she concerned herself only with the all-important conclusion of candy-buying.

Ike realized that he was sweating and tried unsuccessfully to calm himself. He walked over to the door and opened it and took a gulp of fresh air but continued to hear the confounded beating. It was ridiculously loud and he knew now that Marilyn heard it. How could she not? She was not deaf and yet she wandered around the store with a mocking imperviousness that started to anger Ike. Why did she not just ask him? The noise was almost unbearable now. Ike winced with each beat and grew more and more agitated. He was about to yell at Marilyn to get out of the store when there was a commotion outside that even the child acknowledged.

Golden shoes, Golden Globes

Sometimes when a man's alone, all you got are your dogs and they meant the world to me.

--Mickey Rourke, during his acceptance speech for Best Actor at the Golden Globes.

Also:

She’s like a giant Xanax, you know? I’m not going to get religious...but I truly believe God created dogs for a cause. They are the greatest companions a man could ever have.

Storytime in parts

--Part I--

Circa 1955. Smalltown, Pennsylvania

Milk was hard to keep in the house with so many kids around. It seemed like the refrigerator was always being opened and closed and mouths were being opened and closed and growing children especially wanted and needed milk. Not that it was expensive. Mom always thought she was buying enough for the week, but the demand seemed to grow in proportion to the supply.

"Marilyn!...Marilyn!! Come here!"

Marilyn was called because she was the closest child when Mom realized they were out of milk again.

"Yes, Mama?"

"Marilyn, I need you to run up to Ike's and get a gallon of whole milk. Look at the date and get the one with the latest date on it. Understand?"

"But, Mama, I was playing with Teddy and we were about to go exploring. Don't make me go to Ike's! I was..."

"Take Teddy with you, then. I don't care. Just go now. I need the milk to cook dinner tonight. Go on."

Marilyn knew better than to argue too much and since she could take Teddy maybe it wouldn't be all bad. Teddy was the best dog ever. He was a collie; well-built and sturdy for rough-housing but good with kids and best with Marilyn. Rarely was one not thinking about the other. He was good company when company was needed. He had come to live with them when the next door neighbors had moved out and left him in the back yard by himself. Marilyn's father said they could keep him over night until somebody else could be found to take him but Teddy had never left and everybody including Teddy seemed to like the arrangement.

The two took off for the store in no hurry. There was too much to see and do along the way and besides, surely Mom wasn't too serious about being in a hurry to get the milk or she would have gone herself. It was just down the street and around the corner and between Teddy and Marilyn there might even be some fun to be had. Little did either one know what a trip to the grocery store held for them today.

My wife doesn't understand me.

Seven years I've invested and it has come to this. She doesn't understand. She doesn't have a clue about how I feel and how it hurts that she won't even try. I have tried to explain myself but she makes me feel bad when I try. She makes me feel that my wants and needs are not real and that I'm wrong for thinking I have them. She says I'm wrong, weird and even unpatriotic. Can you believe it?

Well, I can't help it. My needs are real and if I want to do certain things, does that make me less of a human than she is? Does that make me unpatriotic? Does that make me wrong? I mean just because I enjoy Mexican Inn tortillas so much that I want to roll myself up in buttered cornmeal, does that make me wrong? If I happen to have enjoyed the delicate goodness of Bosses Meatlovers pizza so much that I want a ham hat and a bacon vest, does that mean I don't love my country? Ok, maybe homemade brownie underwear would be problematic but if that makes me wrong...I don't want to be right!

Why Storytime?

Friedrich Nickerbocker, when asked what his story was meant to prove...

"That there is no situation in life but has its advantages and pleasures - provided we will but take a joke as we find it."

Wink at the camera, Andre!

I once had a friend whose dog liked to watch TV. It got into a fight and lost one eyball. I said that the good news was that the dog only watched half as much TV anymore. Now this guy has saved the taxpayers some money because now we can take the TV out of his cell.

I have C.B.A.

Well, I don't think it is going to kill me (much to the chagrine of some readers) but I'm pretty sure I have another disease. And it is a disease! I watch enough lawyer shows on TV to know that all addictions are basically diseases because we just can't help ourselves. We cannot cure ourselves of these insideous maladies no matter how hard we try. Because I have tried to stop, and have failed, I now qualify as diseased. I don't have the willpower or the mental fortitude to refuse and so now I qualify for government funding and probably some kind of drugs. I haven't pursued it further yet but the first step is admitting you have a problem, I know that.

My ailment is C.B.A, better known as Chronic Book Addiction. I'm addicted to buying books. My disorder is especially heinous in that it is both hereditary and cultural. My father's C.B.A. is in its final stages and he doesn't even recognize that he is infected. He has a Stage 3 library and has no more room in his house to store any more books although he keeps buying them. His non-fiction count is extremely high and although he says he can quit anytime, the family all knows better. His bookshelves won't last much longer. It also is so ingrained in our culture that our society almost encourages it. There is a Border's or a Barnes and Noble on nearly every corner and a public library in even the smallest towns and we continue to turn a blind eye toward this obsession.

Just today I found a Half Price Books in a part of town I would never have expected. I was just driving by minding my own business when I saw it in the strip center sitting there like the foul temptress it is. I couldn't help myself. There were so many books! And they were half price! Some, I hate to admit were even cheaper. I felt so dirty leaving there with my two grocery sacks full of books, some even made to listen to in the car while driving. I bought four Tom Clancy's, for pete's sake! Somebody stop me! Stop the madness before it's too late! I'll never read all the books I have right now and the sad part is that if I were honest I could tell you that I am looking forward to buying again. My only hope is that Obama will bail me out of this horrible pox and I can hold my head up with pride.

C.B.A. is a disease that we can conquer if we all pull together. No longer will we be outcasts, untouchables if you will, (never touch me) with burning desires for dangerous hard-backs or rare finds. I pledge to stop buying books but I need your help. Just send in your non-tax-deductible gift to this blog immediately and I will research ways to quit buying books with my money. And please hurry. There is a first edition O. Henry I have my eyes on that would look great above my desk.

Deathly serious -- putting the fun back in funeral

I don't know what has made me think about this lately but I feel the need to express my last wishes. Ok, not the last wishes I ever have but, you know, my wishes for when I'm gone. Well, not when I'm really gone because if I'm gone I can't really wish for anything but, anyhow, wishes for my funeral. I'm not dying, at least not any faster than anyone else, I just want to be prepared.

The details of what is said and sung at my funeral are not all that important to me, actually. There are lots of good old hymns that might be appropriate or maybe some worship songs could be sung by friends who do that kind of thing. It's a tough question to answer when asked what one wants people to say at your funeral. He was nice. He was a good guy. He didn't sweat much for a fatty. Whatever. Hopefully that part will be short.

What I want is a party! Seriously, a fun party! I don't want people to leave thinking about how much they are going to miss me. I want 'em to leave thinking about what a fun funeral that was. My sister said years ago that she wanted everybody at her funeral to wear shorts and eat pizza! What a great idea! Maybe if I die first I can steal her idea. What's she gonna say?! But if not, I'll have to go with everybody wearing funny hats and singing karoake. How about that? Yes, I want karaoke in the church by my casket with the lid up so I can hear it! It's my funeral and you better do it, or else!

Storytime

----Stupid Boys----

Several years ago I found myself in the unenviable position of teaching Sunday School to a bunch of four and five year olds. I don't remember why I was asked to do the job. Evidently all of the qualified parishioners were unable at the time or were taking a well-deserved break. However it happened, I wound up in a large room with about a dozen heel-biters and only my intelligence and wisdom to see me through the hour. I nearly died.

Actually, not all of the kids were acting up. The girls were all being very sweet as they braided each others' hair and shared baby dolls and took turns with coloring books. They waited patiently as the boys would steal their toys and pull their hair and tried to pull up their frilly dresses. I followed the boys around the best I could and just repeated the words "stop it" and "put that down" as often as possible. No wonder nobody wanted this job. Stupid boys!

Finally, I had an idea. I somehow managed to corral most of them into a circle and with extreme effort got them to all sit down. I rolled a ball to the first little girl and asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. "I want to be a princess", said the little cherub as she gently rolled the ball back to me. Wow! I'm a genius! I have their attention. I am engaging their little brains and their hands at the same time and it's working. I rolled the ball to the next little girl and asked her the same question. "I want to be a teacher" she said sweetly. "Oh, that's great, Becky" I gushed. "You'll be a great teacher!"

Then I rolled the ball to the little demon-spawn of a boy sitting next to the future teacher and before I could even ask him the question, he grabbed the ball and jumped up shouting, "I want to be a pee pee man! I want to be a pee pee man!" and then every boy in the circle jumped up screaming about being pee pee men as the girls just rolled their eyes and went back to hair braiding.

Sounds like some of my old rides...

From craigslist: I have a homemade bike me and my brother built many years ago. Runs and drives but the back tire kind of rides sideways. The seat blew out a few years ago and I made do with a sofa cushion, duct tape and a couple of 2x 4's ( the ultimate fix! ). It runs like a champ but does smoke alot especially if you are hard on the gas. Uses about a quart of oil for each gas fillup. I usually just put the oil directly in the gas as it is going to burn it anyway and that way it is easy. Can't drive over 12 miles or so at a time as the motor gets red hot and starts loosing power so probably a good bike for someone who drives locally. Does backfire and squeel pretty loud occasionally so I usually wear earplugs of some kind. DOES NOT pass emmissions so would need to be registered in a county without emmisions check. Great first bike otherwise!


h/t bb

Go Sooners!

Some of my friends went to the big game...

What's a hamas?

Why do I get the feeling Obama doen't have a clue about what's going on in the Middle East?

I'll have a chipmunk caesar salad on two legs please!

Learn to spell what you hate!

Death to the Juice! Death to the Juice! Death to...what? Misspelled? Dangit!

The Atheist speaks truth

"How much do you have to hate somebody not to tell them...?"

What my dad said just before he kicked me out...

"When he came down from the attic, he was wearing my daughter's pants and my sweat shirt and sneakers. From what I gather, he was helping himself to my home, eating my food and stealing my clothes."

She birthed a bowling ball

Now I don't know nothing about birthing no babies but I know that 14 pounds is way too heavy for a newborn. I don't really think it was necessary for two doctors to have to pull it out, though. I mean what kind of scrawny doc has to call for backup just because the baby is huge? We're not talking about setting a bench press record.

"Hey, nurse, can you spot me here?", says Dr. Droopengelding as he puts on his weight belt and stretches out his quads.

Santa had more fun than anybody

I couldn't get my scanner to work so I had to take a picture of this picture so forgive the quality but I just had to show this. A couple of weeks ago I got to be Santa for a group from the Department of Assistive and Rehabilitative Services. Most of the children were "special needs" kids and I just had a ball! It was quite an honor for me to be a part of this. If you know me, you know I have a bit of a Texas accent and so instead of trying to fake it all day, I just went as Texas Santa and wore my hat and boots. This precious angel looks better in my hat than I ever will.

Storytime from a shepherd

Have you ever had a crazy dream? A dream that seems so real but too crazy to have really happened? I want to tell you about a night I thought I must surely be dreaming, but it really happened.
My name is Bill. Bill the shepherd. I’m one of the shepherds mentioned in the second chapter of the book of Luke, verses eight through twenty. My name is not in the Bible and I’m not terribly important in the scheme of things and yet I had something wonderful happen to me many years ago. Allow me to tell that story in my own words.
Being a shepherd is hardly glamorous work. It is long hours and low pay and we are generally looked down upon by most people. I do not have much education nor much money and most of the time I smell like a sheep. One can see that with all of that going for me that I do not have many close friends.
There have been a few of us shepherds to go on to bigger and better things with our lives. King David is probably the most notable example. But most shepherds live and die in poverty and obscurity and to be honest that was fine with me. I never expected anything of note to ever happen in my life. I had gone to work when I was very young to support my mother when my father died and shepherding was the only thing I could do.
They were not even my own sheep. A man hired me to take care of his sheep but I took my job very seriously. During the day we would let the sheep graze on open land but at night we would round them up and put them in a makeshift corral and we would guard them there.
Nighttime was when thieves and wolves would come out so we would sit in the doorway of the corral and protect the sheep with our bodies. The secret was to have another shepherd there with you at night to talk to you. Not only did it keep you from getting bored and falling asleep but the noise kept away the thieves and wolves.
The other shepherds and I would talk about anything and everything during the night as one can imagine. Some of the other guys liked to talk about God and religion But I was not much into that. I had a hard time believing that there was more to this life than eating, sleeping and sheep.
The ironic thing about this one special night was that some of the other guys and I had just been discussing some of the prophecy in scripture about the coming of the Christ. They had been sharing with me that several prophets had predicted Christ’s birth. Moses, Micah and Isaiah had all predicted the coming of the Christ and that could be something I could get excited about if only I could really believe it.
They told me about the passage in Isaiah chapter seven that says, Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel. Also, Isaiah chapter nine says, A child will be born to us. A son will be given to us. He will rule over us. And he will be called Wonderful Adviser and Mighty God. He will also be called Father Who Lives Forever and Prince Who Brings Peace. The authority of his rule will continue to grow. The peace he brings will never end. He will rule on David's throne and over his kingdom. He will make the kingdom strong and secure. His rule will be based on what is fair and right. It will last forever. The Lord's great love will make sure that happens. He rules over all.
That passage says that Christ will reign on David’s throne! I like that. I can relate somewhat to David because he was a shepherd - a lowly shepherd. Then in the fifth chapter of Micah it says that the baby will be born in Bethlehem. That is where I am from. That is my hometown! I started to feel some hope where previously there had been just despair.
We were, in fact, camped just outside of Bethlehem that night. I will never forget it. It was a beautiful, quiet, starry night. Some of the others were talking and I heard a noise. It started out like a low hum and gradually built up to a sound like a huge herd of horses were stampeding across the hills.
My first concern was for the sheep and so I stood up and listened and waited. On a typical night the most exciting thing to happen might be a shooting star so one can imagine how shocked I was when a bright light flashed and an angel was right in front of me.
I thought it must surely mean I was about to die! My heart was pounding, my knees almost failed to hold me up. I thought I should avert my eyes but I could not quit staring at this incredible creature.
The first thing out of his mouth was, “Do not be afraid!” Easy for him to say! One minute I am counting stars and the next minute I am face to face with Gabriel himself. And yet, while he was an intimidating and exciting creature, huge, powerful and stunning, he was at the same time strangely calming. He was like a good military commander who knows what is going on and knows what to do. I felt immediately like I could trust him.
He said, “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people”. He could have stopped right there. He could have said no more and I would have been thrilled! “For all the people” included me! Nobody had ever included me and here I am being included to an invitation by no less than an angel of the Lord!
The angel continued, “Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; He is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
Before I could catch my breath, and to my continued amazement, more and more angels appeared. Millions and millions of angels dressed all in white and with a glow like the sun spread from one horizon to the other and they began singing, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom His favor rests.” They were the brightest, loudest most perfect celestial choir and I was the audience.
Over and over again they sang “Glory to God in the highest!” Gloria in excelsis deo! “Glory to God, Glory to God!” I cried. I laughed. I sang with them! I worshipped. I hoped it would never end.
It felt like a dream but it was real. When the angels left I could not wait to accept Gabriel’s invitation to find the baby so we all left the sheep and ran into Bethlehem. I think I expected it to be easier to find the baby. After the unplanned angelic choir program I expected there to be long lines of people crowding to see a baby king laying in purple robes with bright lights and flying angels but there was none of that.
When we finally found the baby he was just…a baby. His parents were pleasant but looked a bit overwhelmed like every parent feels the first day and when we told them everything that had happened to us I was afraid they might not believe it. Joseph thanked us and Mary smiled with a mix of pride and gratefulness.
There is another passage in Isaiah chapter 61 that says, The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners. to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn.
I feel like that passage might have been written about me. I could not keep from telling other people about what I had seen and heard that day. I wanted everyone to know about the Christ. I did not know much about this baby Jesus but I knew that he was the savior and I needed a savior. I needed the Prince of peace in my life.
The time in which I lived was undergoing what they called the ”pax Romana” or Roman peace which was a good thing in that we were not involved in any war at the time but I had no peace in my own heart. In the quiet times in the field with my sheep I often felt like there must be more to this life! The starry nights and snow-covered mountains fairly screamed of a divine creator but I had no joy and no peace in my heart until I met Jesus.
One more passage from the book of Isaiah chapter forty: He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.
Being a shepherd has it’s rewards sometimes. Sheep often stray off and are easily in danger of wild animals or malicious people but when I find them safe and bring them back to the herd I know it is for their good. It lets me relate to other shepherds like David but I now realize I have a greater connection with the Good Shepherd since that special night in Bethlehem all those years ago.
I will never know why God chose to reveal himself to me the way He did or why He wants me to have a relationship with Him like He does but I know now that I have that peace and joy that He promises as well as life forever with Him in Heaven and I will continue to celebrate that as the true meaning of Christmas and the meaning of my life everyday.

Arnold and Hoff give this blog 2 thumbs up!

The Ukranian army stayed agile, mobile and hostile even after budget cuts

The new Admiral stresssed yoga for Naval unity

Carl's parents were so proud--even if he was "Bottom Gun"

Chief Sitting Bull's great-grandson never made it in the white man's army

Thankfully the cavalry arrived just in time!

Yes, sir, Sargeant, whatever you say, sir!

My new ride

I know times are tough but don't make me get in my new tax-collection vehicle and come over there!

I can see it now...

A smokey-lens camera slowly follows me down the mansion's interior spiral staircase. With pouty lips and shiny head, I make my way past the marble statues and under the chandelier towards the kitchen and the camera catches my good side as I seductively wink at the two hungry Italian supermodels. They caress my neck and shoulders as I walk right past them with a smirk and reach out my hands. Fade to black as I lustily eat the Burger King Whopper and dab the juice of the meat patty behind my ears.

"Flame", says the breathy feminine voice. "The scent of seduction with a hint of flame-broiled meat."

So what?

It is interesting to me to hear the widespread lamentation of the commercialism of Christmas that comes around every year about this time. As a big Jesus fan, my first reaction is to join the complainer's chorus about how we have lost the reason for the season and to even let that fact make Christmas less special for me. I could easily get discouraged about the number of Santa likenesses that sit where nativities used to and how our school kids are taught to be tolerant of everything except the possibility that Jesus was born of a virgin. I forget sometimes that this is to be expected from a non-Christian world and so after considerable deliberation of this issue I have come to this conclusion about people celebrating Christmas for the wrong reasons: so what?

That's right! What does it really matter? It is a Biblical response, actually. In Philippians 1:15-19 Paul talks about that in his time there were some that were preaching about Jesus for the wrong reasons. Some of them were preaching as a contest to see who could do it best. Others just wanted to make Paul look bad or to stir up trouble for him. Read paul's response in verse 18.

But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice.

Paul had an attitude we should emulate. He had every reason to be upset about things but he considered it just another way to reach the world for Christ. We should look at the commercialization of Christmas the same way. Is it the ideal situation when people celebrate Santa instead of Jesus? Of course not, but do you know what? So what? They are celebrating the birth of Jesus whether they want to admit it or not. Maybe if our attitudes are a little more like Paul's then people will see Jesus in us and that is a reason to celebrate in itself.

300 times

My 300th blog posting. Ah, seems like just yesterday when it had that new blog smell...

I'm gonna gouge my eyeballs out.

I promise I'm not going to rant about TV commercials again. It doesn't do any good and just raises my blood pressure. So, no more long diatribes about the rancid evil and downfall of humanity that is TV commercials. Except one. I don't get it. I just really don't understand how it is that Geico advertising executives could still possibly have their lives, much less their jobs.

Let's see...first it was the cavemen. You would have to be on crack to think those guys were anything but irritating and then, to my horror, they made the commercial into a sitcom. Luckily for the universe, that was short-lived.

Then the brain-dead wasters of oxygen came up with the gecko that makes me want to stomp on anything resembling a lizard and they keep on using it! In fact they still use the cavemen, the lizard and those stupid celebrity endorcements from old what's-her-name Collins and even Little Richard. Little Richard?! Why would I buy insurance from people like that?

So, when I saw that they had a new commercial out starring a stack of money with eyeballs, I thought that was the ultimate insult to my limited intelligence but then...but then...wait for it, wait for it...but then...I found this article online about what a genius the marketing manager is that came up with all that drivel! I can't stand it anymore! I went from muting the TV when the commercials came on to turning the channel and now I have no choice but to gouge out my eyeballs so I don't ever have to see anything about Geico ever again.

Ambien antics

I woke up this morning to find this picture saved as my screensaver. I have no idea why except that after I took my Ambien I guess I thought it would be funny. Now I'm playing jokes on myself!

Ho! Ho! No! No! Bo Bo!

Bo didn't like me playing santa.

Seven years of bliss

Seven years. Ah, seems like just yesterday! I was twenty pounds lighter back then and she still had that new wife smell. So in love. I married way up. I'm still not sure what she sees in me. Evidently short, fat and bald is the new tall, dark and handsome. I'm pretty sure she didn't marry me just for my money.

But I did spend some money on her recently. In anticipation of today, I went to one of her favorite stores. It's either Bed, Bath and Beyond or Bath and Bodyworks. I never can remember which one is which but I chose the wrong one once and she's never let me forget it because evidently they sell way different stuff. So this year I did my homework and went to the right store. I know it's the right one because it reeked of candles and estrogen. You know what I mean. I felt like I had interloped into "Share your feelings" land where men are dreamily forgotten and women rule the kingdom with velvet potpourri-scented fists. I hate the place.

I was actually very intimidated by the place and maybe a little scared. I was scared because I don't know what all that stuff is in there. It's wall-to-wall lotions and potions and cremes and scented things that I didn't know were supposed to be scented. To be honest, I am afraid I'm going to unknowingly pick up something that is, you know, some sort of feminine only kind of product that women only talk about in yoga class and hospitals. It would be my luck for some woman to see me pick up the extra-large bottle of Vagisweet or Vagiseal or whatever, and ask me if I needed help. "Does this come in a candle?", I would ask like an idiot. Then I'd get embarrassed and say it was for my aunt or something and then I would have to wet my pants just so she would quit talking to me and I could leave. Let's just say I have some pretty unattractive scenarios played out in my head at the Bed and Bathworks place.

Actually, I went into the store and just stood there in the middle of the place until some nice lady who I presumed worked there came up and asked me if I needed help. I handed her my wallet and said "Yes, please." and she gave me several wicker baskets full of soft and lotiony stuff that screams "My husband is a sucker!" and then I thanked her and left. Well, what am I supposed to do? "Excuse me Ma'am, I was wondering if you had a large bottle of Burlap Berry-scented Vagiclean with matching candle and slippers?" Please! I'll have nightmares about that until I have to do it again next year.

'67 Mustang Fastback

I owned this car from 1986 to 1997 (give or take) and I treated it like a princess. I bought only the best parts for it. I changed the oil about every 30 minutes. It had a custom cover and was only driven on sunny days on clean roads. I bought premium gas and took my shoes off when I got in. I drove it so gently that I never had to buy tires for it the whole time and it hated my guts.

I never hot-rodded it or mistreated it even one time and it broke down on me EVERY SINGLE TIME I drove it! I don't mean it broke down a few times or that I often had some trouble with it. I mean it quit running for some reason every time I drove it, no exaggeration. It went through a spell of dying - completely stopped running - every time I turned right. I had to take jumper cables, every tool I owned and an ASC certified mechanic with me everywhere I went. It started overheating on me so I replaced the fan, waterpump, radiator, guage and eventually the whole engine and it STILL got hot.

I finally sold it to a dealer and because it looked so good I got a good price for it. He paid me the money and I gave him the title and he asked me to drive it over to a certain spot where he wanted it. As I pulled it over there the power steering pump blew out spewing fluid all over the parking lot. Finally able to smile about it, I said, "Uh oh, your car just broke down!" Best day I'd had in a decade!