Once in a Lifetime Opportunity!!

Whoa, Nellie!! Hold on to your iconic memorabilia hats and just try and take in this unbelievable news ... Daily Finance (dailyfinance.com) is reporting that NASA has not only agreed to sell some of the used space shuttle fleet, but they're wheelin' and dealin' like they never whelt and dealt before!! Sure you've seen them for sale for much, much more - when they were available - but one-time-only, in honor of the recently departed tele-pitchman extraordinaire Billy Mays, instead of the $42 million price they were originally offered at, for the first 25 callers they will reduce the price to an incredible $28.8 million, including free delivery on the back of a 747 to the major airport of your choice!

But wait! As if that wasn't enough, call right now and NASA has agreed to also throw in a used main shuttle engine for only the cost of shipping and handling (no joke - that's the real offer). Can you imagine how much fun we can have with that on the desert shooting trips or even the 4th of July!! The fun would never cease!

So you tell me - how can we pass this up? If Michael Jackson was still alive, I can only imagine his enthusiasm for adding this to his theme park. Of course, once the shuttle is off loaded at the airport, getting it to a permanent base might be a pretty interesting task, but, hey - Kathy's got a pickup truck, and our neighbor Gary has about every tool known to man. And Chet, Zack and Chris can lift almost anything - we all ready know that - plus Chet can pack like nobody's business. It's a perfect fit! Megan can handle all the paperwork (plus dress Lily up to be the cutest shuttle pilot ever), Bill can handle the money and Carizza can handle all the catering needs plus developing the hand signals we need to load and unload.

So Chet, get ready to move the RV out of the back yard - shuttle coming in!! I totally see this working!

Of course, there is that small matter of the $28.8 million ... what do you think, gang? Car washes or bake sales? According to my calculations, we are only $28.7 million short ...

Just keeping the dream alive ...

Blessings,
Bill

Change of plans ...

Well, it's Friday night, January 15th (although this probably won't get posted until early, early Saturday morning) and I've finished 8 days on my diet. Whew. And I had a bunch of stories I was going to blog about - mostly centering on how difficult it's been staying away from food that apparently has been responsible for an awful lot of comfort in my life, and how I have been on the verge of cracking up, etc. Trust me, it would have been hilarious ...

But complaining about anything in my life right now just took on a different patina, even if it is a vehicle for levity. Once again in my life I am struck by the burdens that God asks some people to carry while sparing others of us who lack even a practical comprehension of what it must be like to carry such heavy yokes.

Doesn't Haiti look about as bad as I can imagine a place getting? Ground zero for hopelessness and lack. Certainly by our standards it wasn't a highly desirable location before the earthquake, but now .... staggering. Raising a single peep of discontent with any condition in my life would be simply embarrassing, as would failing to send endless prayers of gratitude to God for sparing my family and me any such circumstances, so we'll talk about the diet another day when raising trivial matters will again be more acceptable.

You know, it just makes me cry that it takes a tragedy like this to make us all think about how we are all God's children, and how humans of all races and nations share so many more similarities than we do distinctions. Any parent reading this can sense what they would feel like if they lost children and grandchildren to some horrible event, and if we know anything about human kind, it is that we all share that same feeling. To watch a mother or father grieving in Haiti is to watch myself in the mirror should the same circumstances befall me. Their economic and geographic status have no effect on their basic humanity - until they are stripped away of all basic humanity and have to act in a level of self defense that I also do not relate to, either. When the shock gives way to desperation, I can imagine anyone acting without regard to social norm ... and I know I would. What would I do to get food for my family? I pray I'll never have to find out.

So Father, please hear my prayer. There is a mystery to life that I do not understand but that I know only You understand ... and the more I age, the more I see the value in that plan. You are God, the Great I AM, and I am just Bill, a fallen believer who understands that I am nothing without you. But tonight specifically, Lord, I pray that you shield Haiti from any worsening of their condition. Please Lord - tonight I pray the word "enough". I don't ask for personal revelation or understanding - I don't ask for renewal or uplifting ... not tonight, Lord. Tonight, Heavenly Father, I just ask you for a bottoming out of the experience for those affected by this tragedy. May tomorrow bring food and water, medical supplies and assistance, love and comfort to those incredibly needy people. May tomorrow be a starting place for a better day for the displaced children and the day when disaster workers start feeling less overwhelmed and more energized for the long task ahead. May the people sing your praises and thank you for the lives spared and the blessing of survival. May the sun rise on Haiti tomorrow, Lord, sending a beam of hope, and a knowledge that even in the destruction you still love them, as I know you do. Please, Lord, let the horrors be replaced by hope, and the pain be replaced by love. Please let the attitude of all concerned see today as the last day of darkness, and tomorrow as the first day of better days to come. And please, Lord, let the world see the value of coming together as one not only in times of tragedy. It shouldn't take a falling tower or a crumbling city for us to see the world as you would have us see it, and for the many times I am personally guilty of that, Lord, I ask your forgiveness. Thank you endlessly for the blessings you have bestowed on my family, and please hear how I love you and am honored beyond reason to consider that you love me, too. In Jesus precious name I pray, Amen.

We fall down ... we get up.
We fall down ... we get up.
And the Saints are just the sinners
Who fall down ... and get up.
- Bob Carlisle

Tomorrow we all start getting up, and lifting up, in the name of Jesus.

Blessings,
Bill

The word for today, class, is "Diet" ...

Wow, what a word. Diet. It's one of those words with a variety of definitions and uses. It's a noun (the sum of a person's food), it's a verb (to diet), it's an adjective (diet food), and it's a formal, deliberative assembly (e.g. The Imperial Diet - who were a group of princes of the Holy Roman Empire who met until 1806 ... the original Weight Watchers Meetings, apparently) ... but for today's lesson I'm going to be using it in it's more colloquial and contemporary version which is often accompanied by the phrase "holy-mother-of-God-why-me".

Oh yeah - I'm in Day Three of what I am calling ... The Last Diet.

First, let's look at the origin of the word "Diet". The prefix of the word - "Di" - means death, muerto, toes up. I think that's a concept that needs no further discussion. Then we have the suffix of the word - "et" - which means small, tiny, measurable but lacking in size.

From this scholarly approach one can only discern that the origin of the word "Diet" is "small death". From a personal viewpoint I would like the definition to include the concept of repetition, since diets traditionally cover a span of time thereby creating a series of small deaths, followed by grinding disappointments and capped off by bone-crushing anxiety and unfathomable angst ... but, hey, maybe that's just me injecting my own personal experience ...

So why have I waited until Day Three to announce to the world that I am on a diet? The Wednesday Syndrome. Ever heard of it? It's the phenomenon known by all overweight people whereby a new diet often lasts only until the third day (which is always a Wednesday, because diets always start on a Monday .... it's a law). Hence The Wednesday Syndrome defines the jumping off day, the "you guys go ahead without me" admission that overtakes the best of intentions with the reality that the cure is seen as worse than the problem. It's a fact ... a fact, I tell you ... that on the first Wednesday in January, the use of the phrase "big boned" goes up 450%. If you don't believe me, go to http://www.heavysigh.handmethatdonut.fat/ and check it out.

Have I ever dieted successfully before? When anyone asks that question, it shows they don't understand the world of the obese. Trust me - if you ever want to know anything about dieting, ask a fat guy. Every fatty like me has at least three stories to tell about how much weight they've lost some time in their lives, and how this diet and that diet works, or doesn't work. I, personally, am a storehouse of dietary knowledge ... and I've got the gut to prove it.

But what normal weight people (all 17 of you left in this country) fail to comprehend is the depth of the convoluted relationship obese people have with food, and it is that relationship, not lack of knowledge, that drives the train to fattyville. If reading a book, watching a video or listening to Oprah really caused weight loss, I, and many of my "big boned" friends would all be walking around without our shirts hoping someone would take a picture. And really, does it take a math major to understand "fruits, vegetables, exercise and stop eating with a shovel"?

So what's different for me this time? Well, there are a couple of differences this time. The first difference is, this time I have decided to take the most dangerous step I can take - I've decided to include the whole world in my journey. Believe me, I have a long history of failure in this dieting thing, and telling the world means I might just be jumping out of my foxhole, yelling "You can count on me, boys!", and then ducking into a Dairy Queen at 9:00 pm for a Blizzard and a cheeseburger. Confucius say "An erected penis has no conscience" (to which Tiger Woods replied, "True that"), but right next store to that timeless truth stands the equal challenge of an obese persons phrase, "Give me a bite of that or I'll rip your arm off and eat that, too." Trust me, it's hard to keep your dieting thoughts together if your head actually explodes while looking at a chocolate, glazed donut. So for a previously failed fatty, announcing a diet can feel like - does feel like - building your own "toss-a-pie" game with my head as the target sticking through the hole in the plywood. Interesting that analogy hinges on being ridiculed through the use of baked goods ... sigh ...

But in a major league way, the second thing that is different this time is in a little bundle of joy we like to call Lily. She's my new granddaughter - soon to be 9 months old - and she's reminded me that I'd like to make sure she knew that Grandpa tried his very best to stick around to see her grow up. Grandpa's not a quitter, Lily. When Grandpa had a choice between overeating or trying to make it to dance at your wedding, Grandpa chose you, honey. Whenever Grandpa is going to be called to shuffle off this mortal coil isn't solely Grandpa's choice ... but for the role I have to play in it, I am going to do what I can to travel as far into the future with you as possible - and with the rest of my family and friends, too. The greatest threat to that future I know of right now is being overweight, so that has to change. Simple as that. Change my diet, change my relationship to food, live long and prosper. That's my plan.

So, Day Three - take your best shot, you scurvy dog. You have NO idea who you're messing with ...

Blessings,
Bill

Stand Up and be Counted 101 ....

I have a friend - or, in this case, I PROUDLY have a friend - who I'll call Michael for the purpose of this writing (mostly because that's his name), and he just did something that is one of those things that I look at and say, "Man - I wish I'd done that!"

Now we all get crazy e-mails from time to time. In fact, for a few people I am the "crazy e-mail vetter" who delights in analyzing the content of an e-mail and pointing out the inevitable inconsistencies, etc. I have long held the opinion that all e-mails containing the phrase "the truth the mainstream media won't tell you" or "any real American understands" are all written by the same person somewhere in a log cabin in Idaho.

Of course the majority of these e-mails over the past couple of years have featured unreserved incredulity about some aspect of President Obama that any right thinking American would revolt over if they could only get the truth (which is held captive by the Democrat lackeys that pass today as mainstream journalists). Or worse ... and it's the "or worse" e-mails that I'm talking about today.

My friend Michael got an "or worse" e-mail from a family member who was a repeat offender in the e-mail forwarding department, and he felt enough was enough - and with keyboard blazing and God Bless America blaring from his I-tunes, he stood up and set the record straight with this guy.

The part he wrote that I want to share is as follows: In this country there is a fine and honored tradition (indeed our right) of expressing an opposition view of political ideas. My expectation is that opposition should be thoughtful and well reasoned. It should be supported in fact or some responsible interpretation thereof. We should hold ourselves to a higher standard and avoid malicious rumor, lies, and innuendo. Such tactics ... are not reflective of the standards of opposition taught me by my father and my grandfather, or what I would expect of my children.

He further wrote describing why he choose to send his response using "Reply All" the following explanation: " ... I don't want anyone you included in the address line to think that I, in any way, agree or align with such nonsense."

Cue the applause, drop the confetti from the ceiling, and hand that man the Man of the Year plaque he so richly deserves. That he is now the target of a vitriolic campaign of responses from those offended by his insistence on truth and accuracy is regrettable, but he will rise above that, too. He's a real American in my book, and whatever they dish out, he can take.

In today's politics, what passes for "truth" in the world of talk radio and on the Internet is essentially any group of words or thoughts that align with someone's preconceived emotions. Every single day, in order to build an audience and stay employed, a talk radio host has to make you feel like you need to be listening to their show, so they sensationalize and yell "the sky is falling", and have to convince their listeners that they can't get the real story anywhere else (or the listener might just go there instead). To streamline that process, they have learned the value of playing on their listeners preconceived notions and emotions. Russ Limbaugh can (and does) say whatever he wants to, and all the heads listening to him will nod in agreement as long as the end of the story is anti-Obama.

One e-mail will call President Obama a Communist, the next one a Nazi, and the next one a closet Muslim extremist secretly hellbent on the destruction of America as we know and love it, and they will all get blindly forwarded a million times because for a dedicated few it fits emotionally to link Obama to something bad. Anything bad. And the more outrageously bad it is, the better, apparently.

So what's the answer? What? You read this blog for answers?? That's a crazy thought ... but in my opinion, like so many things in our lives today, the only possible answer lies in individual responsibility. Be like Mike. Check things out and when they aren't right, stand up and say so. Require more from our friends and require more from ourselves. We are correct to require more from our government, but the requirement scenario goes both ways. The political discourse in this country cannot dissolve into Rainman like communications ... "Obama bad ... bad man". Political discussions need to rise a little higher and not be just an exercise in complaining and negatively branding based on perception rather than fact.

So hooray for Mike and people like him that stand up and be counted. He's my hero, and I am proud, for this and for many other reasons, to call him my friend.

And 2010 begins ...

In God's wonderful and glorious universe, there is an inverse reaction that I find particularly baffling ... which is and of itself somewhat of a miracle since I am so vigilant about avoiding "baffles". Not to be confused with "waffles", incidentally - which as far as I'm concerned deserve their own special place on the food group pyramid and to whom the concept of "avoidance" has rarely, if ever, been applied. No, I'm talking about ... what was I talking about?? Oh, yeah ... one aspect of the universe I find particularly baffling ... and that is, the older I get (thank you, Lord, I am still getting older) the faster the sands of time seem to move through the hour glass of life.

When I was a kid, I remember the sand that measures time dripped slowly, one grain of sand at a time - often excruciatingly slow around the holiday season. "How many days 'till Christmas?", I would ask my mother through my gritted teeth, always looking slightly away and tilting my head as if to protect myself from the excruciating answer that was sure to follow. "Just be patient, dear," she would answer, as if she were completely comfortable to wait, while as far as I could tell, time was actually going backwards just to taunt me and screw with my fragile, young psyche. How could she be so calm? Didn't she realize that in a moment of freakish phenomenon, clocks and calendars had actually reversed themselves, the time-space continuum was being assaulted and all of humanity could only be set straight by the arrival of a fat man in a red suit ... that wasn't Uncle Doug?

Well, now I understand. You see, it is as true as gravity and as regular as the Democrats shooting themselves in the foot every time they finally get power ... time moves faster the older you get. Now, all time is measured in a unit that is universally understood and often quoted - the blink of an eye. I don't really know who set up that system, but I think they had a real genius for getting right to the heart of the matter. No matter your age, gender, race, nationality or political affiliation, we all blink, so it applies to everybody. Kudos to the ancient thinkers who made that determination.

But when you're young, a blink is just that - a blink. It is a particularly short period of time, evidenced, for example, by the known fact that on December 20th each year, Christmas always looked like a bazillion blinks away.

But as an older person ... just checking before I continue this thought ... yep, I am officially "older" ... a "blink" apparently takes approximately 4 days - which is a bonus for eye hydration and UV protection, but a drag when that's how long the family gets to stay together laughing and hugging, giving gifts and holding the baby. I blink and it's "Hi, honey - so glad you made it down safely," and I blink again and it's to hold back the tears as I see them drive away 4 days later. "Wait," I quiz myself, "What just happened? Can we have a do-over or can I apply for some sort of an extension? Will it help if I write a letter to someone?" Nope - the blink is a cruel master. The blink claims all and controls all. The blink is an extension of God Himself. My Mom understood that when I queried her in my youth, and that is why she was able to stay so calm when faced with the need for time to pass as quickly as possible ... it already was passing as quickly as possible, I just didn't see it.

But now I do.

So we begin a new year, and the blinks begin to pile up under a new banner entitled "2010". Of course we already know a ton about what's going to happen in 2010. Nostradamus has little on me when it comes to prognosticating that some people will do incredibly wonderful things, and some people will perform despicable acts that are almost beyond comprehension. I predict that in 2010 the earth, as a planet, will continue suffering the pain of supporting a species that disregards it's value and takes for granted it's bounty, and, as if to produce a specific response, the planet will again reach out somewhere and violently reclaim its rightful place by showing it's ferocity and proving again that if mankind's imagined control over the planet isn't replaced by restraint and companionship, the future will not be as bright as the past. I predict technology in 2010 will continue to advance and the advantages of it's most glorious components will be secured by a few, and offer little substance to the many ... but fortunately I will be one of the few as my supply of gadgets will grow and solidify their dominance over my life. In 2010, as it was back in 10 B.C., power brokers will continue to whip up their power bases in order to maintain their existence no matter how counterproductive their efforts may be towards our country as a whole, and people who believe that fact trumps emotion will continue to be shot down ... and shouted down ... in the political arena.

But what else do I know? I know God is on His throne and everything is going according to plan - His plan, fortunately, because if it was my plan is would be a disaster. And I know that for every moment man's inhumanity to man is displayed, the exact opposite is happening somewhere - particularly in America, where charity and history have a long and wonderful relationship - and I am so proud of my family and my country for being part of that.

I know God will be disappointed in me, and I will deserve His disapproval, but with grace that is incomprehensible to the human mind, He will continue to love me. Man, that's huge, you know, because without His love, I am nothing, and with His love, no matter what, I am always something. In 2010 I will face the judgement of many, but I will fear only the judgement of He who made me. So if you didn't make me - and you didn't - then just save any harsh judgement you may be considering for someone else. In 2010, I hereby officially declare myself rubber and everybody else is glue. Actually, I don't care if you are glue or not ... I just want to be rubber. Yeah, that feels good to get off my chest! "Hey, you bleeding heart S.O.B.!" Boing! Just practicing ...

And I know that this year, instead of just accepting that life is a blink ... maybe I can turn that into a wink ... and a twinkle ... and a laugh ... and maybe even a moment of acceptance that shows up because the chance for rejection is reconsidered and re-decided. Maybe I can even use my senior citizen super powers to understand that the blink is coming, and enjoy each eyelash flutter. Maybe I'll even add a raised eyebrow or two to this year's blink ... couldn't hurt, could it?

Look out, world. I'm feeling good about God, about my family, about my health, about life. It's a New Year and I am living it with the people in the world I would choose even if I got the chance to start over and pick again today. This year I don't want to just "attend" life, I want to participate in life and see what shakes loose. When I cross the finish line at the Pearly Gates I want to know that I left it all out on the playing field of life, and there's no better time to get on with that agenda than right now. Jesus has my back (and He has yours too, incidentally), so what's to fear? What are we going to say 365 blinks from today about the year 2010? There's only one way to find out ... get thee behind me, 2009!! I see another blink coming and I need to get cracking!!

Love, blessings and Happy New Year,
Bill