Note to PR flacks

When writing a script for your university president to be used while recording a video segment for the upcoming capital campaign and describing the campaign's focus, one should stay away from the phrase ... "growing our endowment."

No more taxes

I went from no fortune in the fortune cookie to this ... I'm starting to worry.

How will I die? Your Result: You will be murdered.   This doesn't guarantee pain and suffering, but it will be at the hands of another. Perhaps the vile deeds of a past life will attribute to this horrific demise. Do not fear murder. There is a rare epiphany that comes from this type of death. You will see it in the last moments.
You will die while having sex.
You will die while saving someone's life.
You will die in a nuclear holocaust.
You will die in your sleep.
You will die in a car accident.
You will die of boredom.
You will die from a terminal illness.
How will I die? Create a Quiz

Fortunes

Went to lunch ...
Ate Chinese ...
My fortune cookie had no fortune ...
I'm a little disturbed by that!

Four Things

I was tagged by Rach to do this. So, here goes:

Four jobs I’ve held (other than my current position).
Grocery store flunky (Same as Rach)
Radio personality
Music minister
Sports editor

Four films I could watch over and over.
Pale Rider
Star Wars trilogy (original)
The Incredibles
The Dream Team

Four TV shows I watch.
Flip this House
Sportscenter
Seinfeld
My Name is Earl

Four places I’ve lived.
Whitehall, Montana
Roby, Texas
Antlers, Oklahoma
Hobbs, New Mexico

Four favorite foods.
Fried okra
Corn bread
Chicken fried steak
Egg rolls

Four Web sites I visit Daily.
www.wbu.edu (I kind of have to)
various blogs
That’s about it, really. I don’t do much Web surfing

Four favorite colors.
Dark Blue
Dark Green
Sage green or mint color
Grey

Four places I would love to be right now.
Golf course
Scotland
Ireland
Living in the White House

Four names you love but could/would not use for your children.
Maximus
Briana
Jupiter Moon
Wrigley

Now I guess I have to tag a few people so I choose: SmilyMama, Splineguy, Janie, and Patti

What the ...

I saw an interesting sign the other day.

I was in Andrews, helping out with the parents and decided I wanted a Dr. Pepper. I went to the local convenience store and as I walked in I saw a big sign on the door featuring the convenience store’s logo and a picture of a guy in a shirt and tie with his head literally buried in a pile of paper work.

The wording on the sign said “Need a better job? Apply with us.”

Where, in the name of all creation, do you have to be working in order to consider a job at a convenience store as a step up?

Formidable Sense of Doom is Closing in

Help!!! My baby is growing up!!!

I’ve told several expectant fathers over the last few years that your worldview completely changes when you have a daughter. I don’t know what it’s like when you have a boy because we only have one child. It popped out as a girl and has stayed that way ever since.

Young men growing up in the world are expected have a certain lack of sensibilities when dealing with members of the opposite sex. There’s the locker room humor, and the … well … things never really get past the locker room humor stage. Let’s face it, guys are fairly one dimensional and are happy living in that one dimension. But once you have a daughter, all those jokes suddenly aren’t so funny anymore. After all, someday some stupid, ignorant, jerk is going to be saying those things about your daughter. Wouldn’t you like to get hold of him some evening in a dark alley with some super glue and a roll of duct tape?

It’s not that all guys are bad … then again, maybe it is. After all, I have female acquaintances in their college years whom I’ve told will never find a guy that is good enough for them. How do you think I will feel about my own daughter?

As I was sitting on the couch Saturday evening, the brilliant 7-year-old blonde walked up beside me.

“Da-da,” she said, because that is what she calls me. “I have a crush on Corbin.”

The little man inside my head reacted immediately, ripping at handfuls of hair while running madly around the room and planting himself face first into the padded walls, only to get up and commence screaming and running around the room again, and again, and again …

“Oh really?” I said in a calm, cool voice. “Why do you have a crush on Corbin?”

“He’s soooo cuuuute!”

My left eye began to twitch.

… as it turns out, she is not in the same second-grade class as Corbin, which is a good thing, but she has resorted to stealing his shoe at recess. … This is serious.

Her Pa-Pa and I are at a loss. After all, how do you sufficiently put the fear of God into a second grader in terms that he will understand for the next 20 years? I guess we could shave all the fuzz off his teddy bear, then hold it over his head just out of reach until he crumples into a huddled mass of hysteria. Or we could just take away his cookies at lunch.

… I’ll have to think on that one for a while.

Questions for scotte

Sorry that I’ve been away for a bit. Things have been quite busy around here. But scotte asked for some interview questions, so here we go:

1. I see through your profile and your blog that you live and work in the Oil Patch. In your informed opinion, are we paying too much at the pump?

2. Are we in danger of using up all of our natural resources, and should we put more of an emphasis on alternative fuels?

3. In your dealings in the field, have you ever run across Dewaine White who sales for Key Energy out of Midland?

4. What is your religious background and do you have any current feelings toward organized religion?

5. Who is going to win the Super Bowl this year, and why?

Interview Questions

I picked these up over at Paul's place. I've had them for about a week (or longer) and I'm just now getting around to answering them. These are five questions Paul asked of me.

1. Just imagine. You’ve won a prize and you can select one of these free options: a) a parachute jump, b) a hot air balloon flight, c) a guided deep sea dive. Tell us about your choice...
Probably a guided deep sea dive. As much as I’m afraid of drowning, I would feel more comfortable and in control of my situation knowing that there was a guide and that I had equipment that would keep me safe. I don’t like flying, and heights tend to make me a little uneasy, so the hot air balloon is out. Furthermore, to jump out of a plane for no apparent reason is just insane.

2. What is the best piece of advice someone has ever given you? Please expand on it.
I don’t really know. I’ve never been one to bookmark certain times in my life. I guess, although this is not very profound, the one thing I remember was a college professor telling us as students that when looking for a job, it’s not about what you know, it’s about who you know. You don’t expect that coming from a college professor, but he said if you know someone who can help you get a certain job, then use them. As things stand, with the exception of my first job out of college, every job I have held since then has come through connections I have made throughout my life.

3. Please comment on this statement: ‘Atheists are living in denial.’
I think in order to truly deny something exists, you have to at least question its existence first. Therefore, my answer is kind of wishy-washy. I think some atheists/agnostics truly don’t think there is a God. In my opinion these people would be fairly indifferent to any conversation concerning the matter, and just blow it off as the mindless ramblings of the confused. Others, however, just claim to be atheists/agnostics in order to accommodate their personal agendas. In my opinion they would be more adamant and abrasive in defense of their position, and would strive to prove their point at all cost.

4. Is there a material thing that you’ve lost and really want to retrieve / repossess? If so, tell us about it. If you can’t think of anything, please tell us what material thing you would like to lose or which annoying habit you would like to get rid of.
I don’t really lose too many things. I’m rather anal about making sure things that could be easily lost, especially those that are important to me, are returned to their proper places. As far as something I would like to lose … my wife has a little decorative, blue, glass purse that she likes to have sitting out. I think it is ugly, breakable and doesn’t go with any of our other décor.

5. What is your personal dream and what is stopping you from realizing it?
My personal dream is to write a book. The only thing stopping me is me. I just refuse to sit down and get started. I keep telling myself I don’t have any ideas that are good enough, or I won’t know what to do with it when I finish it, so why bother. Those are pretty lame excuses, really.
I also want to build a castle, or at least travel to Scotland and Ireland and visit all of theirs.

As per my part in this interview process, I agreed to send five interview questions to anyone else who might be interested. Just do the following:
1. Leave me a comment saying “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Is it Ironic?

In my morning Bible reading today, I ran across a verse that instantly became one of my favorites, Proverbs 10:13 -- "Wisdom is found on the lips of him who has understanding, but a rod is for the back of him who is devoid of understanding. " (NKJ) or "Wisdom is found on the lips of the discerning, but a rod is for the back of him who lacks judgement." (NIV)

A few hours later as I attended a reception for a U.S. Senator, in my attempt to shoot pictures over the crowd I and my camera strap promptly swatted the back of the head of a former Texas Speaker of the House. Irony?

(I will point out, however, that I like the former speaker and think he did a good job.)

I had nothing better to do

No surprises here. Of course, I have the same personality type as two of my fictional heroes: Bruce Wayne and Darth Vader.

What do we do now?

We officially wrap up our softball season tonight with our season-ending pizza party. We will hand out certificates and medals and a few goodies from the university at which I work. … It’s never too early to start recruiting.

Our season ended last week amidst controversy. The tournament, originally scheduled as a double-elimination tournament, dropped to single elimination after thunderstorms disrupted things for two nights. However, certain people made a stink and needless to say, the girls in the various leagues got a good taste of poor sportsmanship from their parents who taught them how to act like complete idiots within the confines of a public forum.

That’s a whole other soap box that I want dive into right now, but you should realize that once the police get involved, things have gone too far.

Our girls, who managed only four wins during the regular season, somehow won two of our three tournament games, losing the championship by only one run. We were quite proud of them. They really improved throughout the year.

I must admit that I am kind of sad to see them go. Not because of the softball, but because some of them need something positive in their life. They have problems that could be solved or at least dealt with properly if they had the right role models and support structure in place. But our pathetic social norms don't give them the opportunities they need to succeed.

One of our girls, Pinky, has a problem with ADD. I generally don’t buy into the ADD myth. I think it is an excuse and copout for parents who don’t want to deal with their children. Occasionally, however, you will find a child with a legitimate problem. This was the case with Pinky. You could see her fight it and knew that there were other forces at work when she was off her medication.

At our final game, this girl’s mother and older brother were there. I think she wants nothing more in this world than to impress her brother. She has said several things throughout the course of the season that makes me think this. It’s obvious that these children come from broken homes and when he is around, she wants him to accept her and be impressed by what she has accomplished.

That did not help the situation.

Each time Pinky stepped into bat, you could tell she was struggling with the voices in her head. The ADD was taking control. Her brother was telling her that she had to hit the ball. The opposing players were yelling at her unmercifully, trying to get her to swing at bad pitches … and she obliged. She tried not to. You could see her try to hold her bat, but when everyone yelled “swing” she would.

It became too much to handle in her final at bat. Pinky swung at a bad pitch and then turned, rubbing her forehead with a pained look on her face.

“Are you alright?” I asked her. She assured me that she was so I barked a few words of encouragement to her, and then she stepped back in. Another bad pitch … another bad swing … and she stepped out again.

It was too much.

“Are you OK?” I asked again.

Pinky burst into tears.

I knelt beside her as she cried. The game was waiting for her and all the parents and players were staring. Fortunately the umpire gave me a little extra time. I tried to comfort her, but what can you say.

“I’m trying …” she sobbed … “but … everybody … is … yelling at me … and I … just can’t stop…”

This little, 8-year-old girl was battling not only the demons of ADD, but personal demons as well. What happens to kids like her? What role do we play in her development? Where does she go from here?

I asked someone who has been coaching kids longer than I have what she does in situations like this. Her reply was that all you can do is pray for them, support them and be a good role model for them when you are around them. She coaches basketball and said there have been times when she has kept kids with her between tournament games because she knew if they went with their parents, all they would hear was griping and yelling about how bad they played or what they need to do differently.

What are we teaching these kids? Why are parents so stupid? We treat them like trash then wonder why they are trash when they grow up.

Another girl on our team is a brilliant child. She is very smart and analyzes everything. She makes contingency plans for how we should handle on-field situations should they arise. She is a cute kid with a bright smile. But she comes from a broken family and she is starved for affirmation from a strong male role model.

I don’t know her family and don’t know the dynamics of her situation. But I do know that she craves positive attention from me or the other coach. When standing in a group talking, she will always stand as closely as she can to one of us and just wait for us to put our hand on her shoulder or pat her on the back and tell her she is doing a good job. She’ll hang around after the game and help us clean up just to hear us say, “Thank you.”

She has so much going for her but you wonder if she will throw it all away by getting mixed up with the wrong people and doing things she shouldn’t do just to feel accepted by some boy.

What’s going to happen to her? Will she become a productive member of society or just another statistic?

I asked my friend if we were allowed to shoot the parents.

… she didn’t answer.

Keeping up with cable TV

My back hurts.

It’s not a bad hurt, just kind of a dull ache that will eventually stretch itself out. It’s the kind of hurt that comes along after a few hours of strenuous exercise in a manner of which one is not accustomed.

In other words, I had an eventful weekend.

You see, the wife and child were out of town this weekend and I needed something to occupy my time. A lot of guys with a free weekend will stock up on their beverage of choice and call all their buddies. Not me! No, sir! First of all I’m not an overly social animal, so I don’t have a lot of buddies that I would openly invite to my house. Secondly, I would rather do something moderately constructive or destructive as the case may be. So when I have a free weekend, I don’t take out the beverages, I take out the carpet.

And now my back hurts.

The ambitious idea behind the project was spawned by any number of home improvement shows which fill the airwaves on cable television. In every show you always hear the “home improvers” talk about putting in hardwood floors which increase the sales value of the house. Therefore, it stands to reason, that if my house has hardwood floors, its value will rise as well. I figured that out all by myself.

My house was built in the 1950s when ever structure was pier and beam and the only decent flooring material was wood. However, over the years, everybody wanted to cover up the wood with carpet. The carpet that was in my house was not original by any means, but I’m betting it had been there for a good 20 years. Some brilliant architect had even decided that putting ceramic tile on top of the wood in the entry way was a good idea.

Do you have any idea how much sand paper it takes to grind your way through a quarter-inch tile? … Me either. I would suggest taking the tile up before you start sanding. However, working your way through the adhesive material underneath the tile is quite a taxing experience. My wood in that area is still a little green, but I'm hoping a nice, dark stain will hide the other discoloration.

Needless to say, it took a day or so to prep the floor for sanding. I had to remove the carpet and padding, take up all the carpet tack strips lining the edges of the rooms, then remove all the staples that were used to hold the padding in place. I had to take out the tile and chisel out as much of the underlying material as I could without damaging the wood. I had roughly 550 square feet to cover once the floor sander was ready to go. I started sanding at about 9 o’clock in the morning and didn’t finish until around 3 p.m. And God forbid that any type of power equipment be built to fit people that are more than 6 feet tall. Spending six hours in a slight stoop is not easy.

Thus … my back hurts. But I now have really cool hardwood floors. I just need to find the time to stain and polyurethane them. That ought to kill a few more brain cells.

Just Another Office Outing

I could be wrong, but I’ve always felt that it’s important to remain fully clothed when on public display. Especially when they public involves your mother’s co-workers.

Every summer for the last four years, our small development department has run off for a few days to hold a work retreat at which time we brain storm and plan for the upcoming year. Our group is kind of in charge of raising money for the university, so if any of you feel to urge to make a charitable donation to a small faith-based institution, please let me know.

The first few years, we went to a small town where we stayed at a hunting lodge and ate at the only eating establishment in town, a small restaurant named “Crackers.” For the last two years, however, we have headed off to Ruidoso, N.M., for a few days in the mountains. This is a welcomed change from the lodge that encourages hunters to clean their game outdoors, not in the bathtub, but it still provides some interesting moments.

This year, the retreat provided an enlightened study of human nature and social customs of adolescent females. Our supervisor brought her youngest daughter with her for the weekend and the daughter brought a friend along. Both girls are 14 years old. We quickly discovered that the way to make two 14-year-old girls completely shut up is forced social interaction with a group of people over the age of 30. They probably didn’t say more than 2 words to any particular person the entire weekend. I’m not sure they even talked to each other. Combined, the two girls had all the personality of a fence post.

It didn’t help matters that our supervisor was stricken with altitude sickness upon reaching Ruidoso and did not get out of bed for three days. She was in no situation to supervise the youngsters.

I’m not sure how these two girls function among their peers, but among us, they sat motionless, watching movies on the cabin’s DVD player. They occasionally played a game of cards, but we never heard them so much as speak to each other. We could hear the TV and the shuffle of the cards, but nary a peep from the chicks. Occasionally someone would make a direct comment to them which was met only with a mono-syllabic response.

Yet, while these girls were so appalled to be around us, they didn’t mind one bit walking around, or sitting around the cabin in their bikinis. Yes, that’s right, their tiny little, two-piece swim wear. They were too uncomfortable to utter a sound, but comfortable enough to display their udders. I found this moderately disturbing.

First of all, when I was 14-years-old, I don’t remember girls having boobs. Of course, they may have had them but were more discrete and just didn’t go around showing them off to all creation.

Apparently things have changed in the last 20 years, and certain female attributes are making their appearance earlier in the life cycle. While one of them, the supervisor’s daughter, is on her way to a “mature” body, she still needs a little more time to grow. She at least had the decency to occasionally wrap a towel around her as she moved around the cabin. The other one, however, is fairly developed and she knows it and she doesn’t mind showing it off to a bunch of people she doesn’t even know. I’m just glad the president of our university, who was there for some of our meetings, wasn’t around during the times that the youngsters were disrobed.

During these moments, I remember thinking to myself, if my daughter, who is now 7, ever does something like that when she is 14, she is going to have one very irritated father.

Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with looking good. There is nothing wrong with dressing in a way that makes you look good, as long as it is done tastefully. But at some point a person must stop and realize, “Gee, I should probably wear some clothes.”

Five things I dig about Jesus

I was tagged by Patti, so here's five of what could be a long list.

1. He was a rebel without being “rebellious.”
2. He was a man without being “human.”
3. He loved while being hated.
4. He was a poet.
5. He is awesome!

Now to explain myself.
1. Jesus was a rebel. He bucked the system and fought the establishment. But He did it without the intent to harm, tear down or destroy. He was here to teach, inspire and save.

2. Jesus was wholly human and wholly divine. Yet in his humanity, he didn’t fall into the traps that so easily ensnare the rest of us.

3. I would say the ability to love your enemies is the most Godly thing any of us can strive to achieve. It ain’t easy, yet He did it unconditionally.

4. No one can turn a phrase like Jesus. His words and teaching are filled with multiple meanings and are so powerful. There is a poster that hangs in my office that quotes John 8:58, “I tell you the truth. Before Abraham was, I am.”

5. As you read through your New Testament, look at all the instances where mortal men simply would have folded and tried to shrink away into the background. John chapter 18 tells about the betrayal of Jesus and how Judas led the Roman soldiers to Jesus. When they first saw Jesus, they didn’t know they were talking to, but when Jesus “revealed” himself to them, they “drew back and fell to the ground.” Jesus was in control of every situation and his presence was awe inspiring. These men had come to take Jesus by force, but when they saw Him, they knew immediately who He was.


I am also supposed to "tag" five people, but I think everyone I know has already been tagged. Except maybe Spookyrach. So, you're it.

Dealings in the Dugout

It was the bottom of the third and we were down by one run. I’d like to say it was the bottom of the ninth, but this is youth-league softball and we only get to play a certain time limit and time was quickly running out.

We were sitting at 0-2 in the young season and desperately in search of a win to boost our confidence. It had been a closely contested game with both teams questioning calls and umpire’s interpretations of the rules. I, of course, am totally opposed to youth-league coaches and parents getting too involved and too competitive, but I am just an assistant coach on one team and can’t control the actions of others. I am also very competitive and like to make sure the correct calls are made and that our girls have every opportunity to win.

After our first two games it was painfully obvious that our girls could not hit the ball. Every time a pitch came near the plate, they were ducking for cover. If one of them decided to actually swing the bat, she was generally looking out at left field instead of watching the ball. It’s very difficult to make contact when you can’t even see what you are swinging at.

Needless to say, we spent the better part of two hours the day before the game working on nothing but hitting the ball. And it paid off.

Trailing by a run our team needed to score more runs in that half inning than we had scored total in the previous two games. It was a daunting task for our young warriors, but we had managed so far to keep the team's morale and energy level high and they seemed to be having a good time.

“We just need a couple of hits,” I told them before getting ready for the inning. “If we get a couple of hits, we win the game.”

“But what if we don’t hit it?” asked our intellectual child.

“That’s fine,” I replied. “A walk is as good as a hit.”

“But what if we don’t get on base?” she asked again.

It’s tough arguing with a 10-year-old. Especially one who is probably as smart as anyone on the field but still one comment away from a complete emotional breakdown. Not having time to get into a deep philosophical discussion about the probabilities of another 10-year-old throwing three out of seven pitches over the plate in the strike zone while facing the pressure of winning or losing the game with screaming parents and noisy coaches yelling throughout the entire process, I simply said the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re going to hit the ball because I’m the coach and you have to do what I tell you.”

Yup … that’s good coaching.

While it may not have been logical, it seemed to satisfy the youngsters who promptly went out and loaded the bases with only one out. The next batter, a girl who may not get a hit all season, was hit by a pitch. She was awarded first base, driving in the tying run and bringing up one of our heavier hitters. With the game on the line, this girl drilled a double to right field, eventually scoring two runs after some indecision on the base paths, to win the game.

We are now 1-2 and ready to make our run. Our next game is against the league’s best pitcher, but we know if you can ever rattle her, she will fall apart. We know this becuase last year she started crying on the mound when she hit a stretch where she couldn't throw a strike.

... Not that we would intentionally make a young girl cry ...

A Coaching We Shall Go

It’s that time of year again … youth softball season. Once again, I let my brother-in-law rope me into helping him with an 8-10 year-old team. This is our second shot at this coaching gig. We did fairly well for being first-timers last season, but this season may be a little different.

I can’t really put my finger on it, but there is something different about this group. I want to say we have better fielders and a stronger defense all around, but our offense is seriously lacking. This could be a problem as we played great defense in our first game, but still lost 4-1.

Things will definitely be interesting, however, as we have a very eclectic group of young ladies. Our most boisterous player is experiencing softball for the first time and couldn’t understand why a runner is not allowed to run from second base to first base when the ball is hit. Throw in the fact that she just turned 10 years old but stands only 3-foot-2 and refers to me as Coach Paddie, which only vaguely resembles my real name, and there we have one of our more interesting players. And she really is only about 3-foot-2. My 7-year-old daughter is taller than she is.

Then we have our intellectual. She will be one of my favorites on the team because she analyzes everything. When she makes a mistake in the field, she can tell you exactly what that mistake was down to the minute detail and outlines a contingency plan for approaching the situation the next time it occurs. Then she stands in the field and corrects her teammates’ grammar as they yell at each other or opposing players … not simple stuff, but obscure grammatical rules that most high school students don’t understand. Of course, she is still a girl and gets emotional when things continually don’t go as she has planned.

We also have a pink child who reminds me somewhat of my daughter, except that she is in serious need of ADD medication. She will be a decent player in the field (can’t swing a bat, although she brings her personal pink bat with her to practice and the games), if we can just get her to focus long enough to … “look at the pretty butterflies!” I call her “Pinky” all the time, but I don’t think she knows why. Everything she has is pink. Our uniforms are navy blue, but she has pink cleats, pink wristbands, a pink bat and pink batter’s helmet.

Then, of course, there is the obligatory youngster who is in need of physical activity more than the rest of the team, yet doesn’t move during practice. This could explain the growing need for physical activity. She doesn’t take instruction well and doesn’t understand the need to actually act like she is a part of the team. When she is through with batting practice, she wants to go home and can’t figure out why we make her stay. She has a lazy attitude to go with her lazy metabolism which adds up to one thing – a youngster who the coaches try to hide in right field where nothing ever happens.

And like every team, we have the one girl who is just the nicest kid and tries hard to do everything you ask her to do, but “bless her heart,” she just doesn’t have an athletic bone in her body. (Have I ever explained that you are allowed to say anything about anybody as long as you preface it with “bless her heart?”). The poor girl is just slow … and weak … and scared of the ball … and she can’t catch … or throw ... or hit … but she is a nice kid and never gives us any problems.

Needless to say, our season should be quite interesting. Maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to put the right pieces in the right places and squeak out a win or two.

Adding to the clan

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

A few weeks ago, my wife and I invested in a toy, mainly for me. You read about it a couple of posts ago – Shaggy/Mater, the family truck. Mater’s been good to us so far. He’s taken me where I needed to go and has hauled some light stuff that I just didn’t want to fit in the back of the Jeep. I’ve learned how to properly wake him up in the morning to make sure we can get out of the driveway without incident. If you wake him up too quickly, he tends to be cantankerous and shows it by shutting down in the middle of the intersection near the house. You’ve got to wake him up gingerly and scratch him behind the ears for a few minutes, then he’ll be ready to go for the rest of the day.

The only problem is that Mater is a gas hog. As you well know, gas prices have skyrocketed and hit an all-time high. This doesn’t mix well with a vehicle that tops out at 11 miles per gallon on the highway. I, of course, had to buy a truck that has the biggest engine Ford was putting in its commercial vehicles at the time. Fuel conservation apparently wasn’t such a big thing in 1986.

Suffice it to say, Mater is a good vehicle and we don’t plan on getting rid of him any time soon. We will still drive Mater quite a bit and use him to haul things around, but in an effort to do my part to conserve fuel and finances, meet ….. “Lightning.”

Lightning is a simple, stripped down, nothing fancy two-wheeled mode of transportation with a 1 human-power engine. Lightning goes 0-to-60 only in a 60-mile per hour wind on a downhill grade. Lightning probably tops out around 20 miles per hour, but averages closer to 10. Fuel economy, however, is unbeatable.

Of course, with the style of bicycle, I feel like I should be tooling around leisurely on a cobblestone path in a small European village. The handlebars are high enough that I can sit up straight and it is a simple, single-speed machine on a lightweight, aluminum frame. No frills. If I was still single and trying to pick up chicks, I wouldn’t be caught dead on a bicycle like this. But … I don’t have to impress anybody, so I’ll just hop on my silent hog and ride.

Not only is it fuel efficient, but it is good exercise and can be moderately therapeutic. I highly recommend it. Lightning and I made our first trip to the office together today where co-workers marveled at the shiny new vehicle parked in the breakroom. They kicked the wide, white-walled tires, buffed the paint and admired the ergonomically designed seat.

Yup, Lightning made quite and impression. It's safe to say he and I will be spending a lot of time together over the next few months as we traipse back and forth from home to work, to the post office, the store and maybe even out to eat every once in awhile.

Mater's a little jealous because Lightning actually gets to stay in the garage, but he'll get over it. Afterall, he knows that this is what's best for all of us involved. Mater will get to exercise his muscles on occasion and Lightning will become a valuable member of the family. Afterall, a little exercise might do me some good as well.

See you on the bike path.

... And with the wind at your back, may all your rides be downhill.

Other Duties as Assigned

We’ve all been there … reading the job description for a position we have applied for, or perusing our contracts from year-to-year before we sign them. Within these documents, there is always a list of job duties that one must perform, and at the end of every list there is always the disclaimer “other duties as assigned.”

What does that mean? Are we occasionally supposed to bring a cup of coffee to our vice president? Are we supposed to help students with their homework? Are we supposed to vacuum our own offices after the Christmas party that got a little out of hand – you just can’t trust a bunch of Baptist with free will and a rum cake.

Today it meant that I got to play gardener. Not just go-out-and-pull-some-weeds-and-water-the-flowers gardener, but instead, go-out-and-trim-a-tree gardener.

There’s really no point to this story. But that is what I did this morning because I really have nothing else to work on. But, the tree is trimmed and I can now walk under it without having to duck.

So there …

Deleting post

Deleted the previous post. There are some people around who read my stuff and I don't want to get in trouble or cause any undue tention among people I know.

To ask, or not to ask

I should have known better than to question how to perform a sonogram on a horse.

Obviously it's not something you talk about every day. In fact, I don't think I have ever talked about it. I have definitely never seen someone perform a sonogram on a horse. I didn’t know how it was done and I was obviously talking to someone who did, so before I knew it, I was uncomfortably ensconced in a full-blown conversation about horse breeding.

A young student stopped by my office earlier today. She is a student worker for an office that works closely with ours, so she spends quite a bit of time in our building working on various projects. We all know her as the girl from Arizona who rode her horse to school.

She didn’t literally ride it, but as a high school student, she was looking for a small university where she might be able to board her horse so she could continue to train it and ride it. She looked at several other school nearer to her hometown, but they didn’t have any way for her to bring her horse with her. When she contacted our admissions office, somebody knew somebody who trains and breeds (apparently) horses in the area. They put her in contact with this family and the family agreed to let her board her horse at their place in exchange for some afternoon help with their other horses. It was a good deal for her and a good deal for us because she is basically a good kid and is fun to pick on.

Knowing, however, that she spends much of her spare time with horses, I always like to ask how her horse is doing. Apparently it’s breeding season in the world of horses. They just birthed a colt at the old stables and are expecting another one any day. She had pictures of the new critter of which she is quite proud. Then she told me that later in the afternoon she was going to have to perform a sonogram on a mare. This is where I made the mistake.

“That must be interesting,” I said.

“Yea,” she answered, “but it's kind of gross because the glove only goes up to here.” She pointed to her shoulder.

Now, I’ve watched enough television and heard enough stories to know that there are times when a human must stick their arm up an animal’s rear end to accomplish certain necessary functions. I was not aware that sonograms were such a function.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “How do you do a sonogram on a horse?”

And there it was -- the simple question that led to a discussion about horses and their mating habits.

Did you know that horses in captivity are artificially inseminated because they “go crazy” and are so rough that they could actually kill each other? Horses in the wild can apparently handle it, although there might be significant bruising.

She proceeded to tell me that she would much rather be the one who sticks her arm up the female as opposed to the one who has to deal with the male. At which point I just stared at here because I couldn’t quite imagine what that would entail. I mean, do they usher the male horse to a private room and give him a dirty magazine?

I didn’t really ask because I was moderately uncomfortable at this point, but she proceeded to tell me about the male horse and the dummy and how she would much rather work on the female than be the one on the other side of the dummy with the bag.

“With the bag?” I should have kept my mouth shut but the question was out before I could stop myself.

“Well, somebody has to catch it.”

Yeah … that’s what I thought, too. I’ll admit, however, that while the conversation was a bit disturbing, it was also enlightening in that I didn’t really know that much about breeding horses.

I pointed out to the young lady that she would have to forgive me if I failed shake her hand any time in the near future. To which she replied that shaking hands wasn’t so bad … “You should be the one who has to eat with them.”