Well, my new poll is up and with 7 votes already cast for an overwhelming 71% for extra-crunchy, I really have to ask for comments, “Why?”  Why would you want to take something so smooth and creamy and already peanut-ty and put things in it?

Deciding to take the, er, scientific approach, I asked my Margaret, who is crunchy.  She said it is for texture and that is why she doesn’t like plain store-bought white bread, either.

I say, phooey.  If you want texture, toast a piece of white bread and then spread delicious, creamy peanut butter on that.  The only other thing that may come close is if you take some saltines and spread peanut butter on them instead of butter.  (Y’know, I think I must like saltines or something.)  Why, oh why would you want to add little pieces of peanuts to it?

Okay, so please, please, please answer the poll question and leave comments.

Are you a crunchy or a creamy?

Remember, the good book says, “Man shall not live by bread alone, he must have peanut butter.”

Before I read Soosan’s and Daveman’s comments I had not thought about the racist possibility of crackers.  I am really naïve when it comes to that stuff.  I don’t use racial slurs and I don’t know very many.  You guys’ comments did remind me about a story about growing up in the ‘60s and how racism affects people, though.

The school where I went to 4^th grade in 1968 was Garden Homes Elementary School, in Milwaukee, WI.  At the time the school’s population was mostly black, I don’t know the exact ratio but in a class of 30 there were maybe 4 white kids.  I had friends in both groups and never really gave a thought too much about it.  I didn’t know what was going on with riots and Civil Rights marches and all that stuff.  I was 8 years old.  In fact, the class bully, Laron (He said it Lay-ron), an inarticulate thug that could barely walk upright, cornered me one day and said, “Are you prejudiced?”

“What’s that mean?”

“You don’t like me because I’m black.”

“What would that have to do with anything?  You always beat people up.”

“So you sayin’ you don’t even know what prejudice is?”

“Yeah.”

He walked away trying to figure that one out.  Oh I had heard my dad and my uncle talk about how some mysterious “they” were taking all the good jobs and “they” were going to ruin the neighborhood if too many of “them” moved in, but I didn’t know or care who “they” were, I knew I was pretty sure I hadn’t seen them.

I was 8 years old on April 4, 1968, when Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated.  I had no idea who he was or what he did.

I soon learned.

Reactions were emotional and varied and I really didn’t understand what was going on.  The school (my teacher was black as was much of the faculty) decided that it would do a tribute program and involve the children.  I was one of the best readers and had just skipped 3^rd grade and would be a perfect choice to remember a hard part, if I wanted to.  Well, by this time I had some knowledge about what was going on and of course I did.  I loved reading and could recite pretty well.  My dad was hard-of-hearing so I had learned to project my voice.

I can still remember the part that I learned.  Part of a sermon/speech this man had made.  I remembered it and recited it and thought about what it meant.  It was,

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

That was quite a mouthful when you were 8, but I learned it and felt proud and important and liked saying the words.  They were hopeful and nice and, most importantly to me, true.  I understood their significance.

The day before the big production came fast.  It was on that day, the day before we would go on stage and say our part that I was told by the teacher, “We’re not going to have you say that part, after all.  We think it would be more appropriate to use a black boy to say this part so we’re going to have Laron do it.  But you still can be in it.  You will take Laron’s part and you get to say the last line and that’s really important, too.  You’re gonna say, ‘Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!’”

“But Laron can’t do it.  He hasn’t practiced and I have.”

“Well, this is the way it has to be.”

So Laron got to read his part off a sheet of paper in his stumbling, inarticulate voice, but I learned something that day.  That feeling that I had right at that moment taught me exactly what the man was talking about.  I was by far and away the better person for the part, but the color of my skin was wrong and I knew it didn’t make any difference.  I guess it was a defining moment for me because I could have gotten mad and hateful about it, but I believed those words was true.  I knew those words were true and I knew that the very people that should have understood and applied them didn’t really know any more than anyone else.

I guess that it put what we commonly call a “conviction” in me.  I become angry when I hear that there are those in this country who want to throw our history back to those dark ages by saying to employers, “You have to employ this percentage of people of this color and this percentage of people of this race and this percentage of this gender.”  Are we supposed to believe that there are no qualified individuals in these groups?  People of this color/race/religion/gender cannot normally get a job like this?  It is too high or hard or requires too much intelligence for them to get it on their own.  Why doesn’t this offend people?  “Well, your college cannot get this money because you don’t have enough of the right type of people…” The right type of person should be the one who has worked hard to get good enough grades to get there.

Racism and hate should not be allowed to undermine morality and hard work.

The Good Book says, “…He giveth to all life, and breath, and all things; And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth…”

Some people who read my entry about the crackers that came in the 4-per-sheet packages also recalled them, so I looked it up.  I finally wound up having the following correspondence with Nabisco.  If they pioneered this then it seems logical that when I was a little boy some brands would still come the old way as they tried to catch up.

ME to http://www.nabiscoworld.com:  ”…Premium Saltines used to come in big squares that had 4 crackers that were perforated.  The box was the same size as the standard 1 lb. box, but now the crackers come in sleeves.  When did this change and why?…”

“Kraft - Nabisco Email Team <@nabisco.com> Fri, Aug 26, 2005 at 1:09 PM To: "herbthiel@" <herbthiel@>

Thank you for visiting http://www.nabiscoworld.com.

In 1959, Nabisco Brands pioneered what has become an industry standard:  the stack pack.  Four columns of crackers, each enveloped in a reclosable wax paper sleeve, rest within a sealed cardboard container.  Later those waxed paper sleeves gave way to the more modern and effective plastic.  Today's stack packs make it possible for consumers to open one sleeve at a time, resealing the remainder and keeping in freshness.

Also, I'm glad to hear your nice comments about our products and company and will share them with our staff. We're proud of our reputation for excellence and work hard to maintain it.  We're continually exploring new food developments and are very optimistic about the future of food production.  Our pledge is to continue to successfully build on our past achievements far into the future.

It was great hearing from you, and remember we're always updating our site so visit us again soon!

Kim McMiller

Associate Director, Consumer Relations”

So there we have it.  If they pioneered it in 1959 and it is now an industry standard, it could take several years or even more than a decade for it to have become SOP for other companies.

Right now I am writing this on my handy dandy laptop.  I am so tickled.  I’m listening to the “Abbott & Costello” radio show right now.  Did you know that you can go to the site that the boys’ family started http://www.abbottandcostello.net/ and download a different show every month?  This is different from the Old Time Radio shows link I recently added.  (Click on the “Listen Now” button and enjoy some good old-fashioned entertainment.)  This does not mean that I think every show is good for everyone or acceptable to everyone.  Just like any other media, you have to take the time to find out for yourself what’s up.  Toward the end of the “Golden Age of Radio” many of the stars were pushing their shows on a new, modern medium called television and broke ground and paved the way for what we have today from Hollyweird.  That doesn’t mean these shows are not good, wholesome fun, but good and wholesome do not automatically equate innocent and there are even some of these that I will turn off.

I do have to say that they were more intellectually honest back then, though and I think that fighting for Truth, Justice and the American way and Law and Order in the Old West are superior to what we have now.

I read an interview with Bud Abbott where he explained how he and Costello rose to fame while burlesque failed.  He said, “Keep it clean.  You can embarrass people into laughing and they won’t come back to see you, but if you are truly funny and people are not embarrassed, they will bring their friends to see you.”

Remember, THE Good Book says, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine…”

This morning I heard about yet another example of Hollyweird/Mad Ave types ruining our society’s values.  There was in the news an allegation of yet another celebrity under investigation.  This time, according to the radio, Kate Moss, who is apparently a supermodel, was photographed snorting cocaine.  The pictures ran in a British paper of, if I recall correctly, the tabloid variety.  Scotland Yard is investigating.

As I was wondering if this was really stunning news to anyone or whether any journalism students/grads would agree with me in questioning whether this belonged as “Top of the Hour” news, when we have a cat 4 hurricane barreling down on Galveston, TX and more of Louisiana, something happened that did stun me.  A fashion EDITOR, and I bold, italic, underline the word editor because I was of the impression that editors were the people you read what you wrote and tell you what ridiculous mistakes you have made and would you please sharpen your crayon next time, from an English fashion magazine made an astonishing statement.  Recall if you will please that this is the country that the English language started in.  That’s why we call it English so often.  She said, “I’m shocked, but can’t say I’m surprised…”

What?  Shocked but not surprised?  I laughed.

I feel bad for the folks down South.  I cannot imagine what it would be like to lose everything that way.  I don’t know how it would feel.  I can’t imagine losing pets or photographs.  The closest thing I can remember to experiencing such a thing is when Fountain Creek flooded and they evacuated the trailer park about half a mile away from our house and we had to prepare to move to higher ground.  That house was not supposed to be in a flood plain, but the water was within 50 feet of our back door and the rain still coming down.  We loaded the critters into the van and put the photos into a plastic bucket and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Fortunately for us the rain slowed and the water abated, so we did not have to deal with that.  I cannot imagine what this would be like.

But the thing we have going for us, even for the nitwit mayor of New Orleans, is that we are Americans.  We don’t only send help to other countries that need it, even ones that are surly and brusque and complain that we didn’t bring them bazillions of dollars of free help quick enough.  We help each other.  Radio stations and newspapers and private organizations of every stripe jump on the bandwagon and offer help.  These are our fellow-Americans and while we squabble and disagree amongst ourselves, you better know we will help our own.  And we will help you, too.

Yes, I know that some other countries have, in fact, sent money for aid to our victims.  I am not on the internet right now so I can’t look it up but I can tell you that it is a mere drop in the proverbial bucket.  It is generous and kind.  I think, that, however, we will have to bear the weight of it, though.  Again.  Perhaps countries that have gotten loans from us over the years can finally decide to pay back a portion of the money?

One final note.  I have always had a soft spot in my heart for Texans.  If I had to leave Colorado, I would hope to go to Texas, although Kentucky is nice, too.  I like Wisconsin, too, for that matter and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and would probably be happy in Iowa or Wyoming or New Mexico and may be Arizona or Idaho.  And Montana has to be in that list, and…but I digress.  Let’s get that digression out of here before somebody steps in it.  Anyway, I think you will see the majority or Texans behaving a lot differently than others.  Although they are like any other group, with good and bad, so we will see.

Remember, the Good Book says, Thou shalt open thine hand wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy, in thy land.

I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying when I responded to Pops’ comment about making a scrapbook.  Margaret pointed out that not everyone is going to get on here and search through my whole blog just to find news on Savannah.  She thought it was a great idea.  I merely was thinking about the fact that I had saved the files so it was available somewhere, but she understood Pops’ idea that people will want/need more than that.

I will have to figure out how to do that, but Margaret is crafty.

I got to see her crawl Sunday.  Up on them knees and zoom, under the pew.  Fortunately dad has experience with this.  She now has 2 teeth and pictures will be coming soon.  I bought an inexpensive camera when I bought the laptop notebook.  Of course I forgot to bring it with me.  Sorry guys.  I will update the gallery with Lizzy’s wedding pictures and Savannah pictures.  I wonder if I should start a separate Savannah blog?  As if I keep these blogs updated.

It was my turn this month to sit in the “Homespun” class that pastor’s wife teaches.  She is by far and away the best teacher I have ever heard.  She has a passion for it and it makes a difference.  One of the things she talked about was taking care of each other.  Carrying each other’s burdens, helping each other.  There is a member of our church whose mother lost everything in the flooding and she is living here now and she has nothing.  Nothing at all.  What the church is doing is having every one (there are 500+ members) pitch in a dollar or two or whatever they can, a five or a ten even, per week to help support her until she can get on her feet.  Since the number 500 includes children and the elderly, the actual number of contributors is going to be less than that.  This was in lieu of taking up a one-time offering, then forgetting about it.

She, Pastor’s wife, had this little parable she found somewhere.  I found the exact same one and it says “Author Unknown.”  If you know anything else about this piece I would like to know.  It’s called:

THE RATTRAP

A rat looked through a crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife opening a package.  What food might it contain?  He was aghast to discover that it was a rattrap.

Retreating to the barnyard the rat proclaimed the warning, "There's a rattrap in the house!  There’s a rattrap in the house!"  The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said, "Excuse me, Mr. Rat, I can tell this is a grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me.  I cannot be bothered by it."

The rat turned to the pig and told him, "There's a rattrap in the house!  There’s a rattrap in the house!" "I am so very sorry Mr. Rat," sympathized the pig, "but there is nothing I can do about it but pray.  Be assured that you are in my prayers."

The rat turned to the cow. She said, "Like wow, Mr. Rat. A rattrap. I am in grave danger. Duh?"

So the rat returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's rattrap alone.

That very night a sound was heard throughout the house, like the sound of a rattrap catching its prey.  The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught.  In the darkness, she did not see that it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught.  The snake bit the farmer's wife.  The farmer rushed her to the hospital.

She returned home with a fever.  Now everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchet to the barnyard for the soup's main ingredient.

His wife's sickness continued so that friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock.  To feed them the farmer butchered the pig.  The farmer's wife did not get well.  She died, and so many people came for her funeral that the farmer had the cow slaughtered to provide meat for all of them to eat.

So the next time you hear that someone is facing a problem and think that it does not concern you, remember that when there is a rat trap in the house, the whole barnyard's at risk.

~Author unknown~

Remember, the Good Book says, “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”

Aaaaaaarrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!!!!!!  Oh, woe is I!  It has finally happened.  I have run out of reasonable excuses for not keeping my blog updated.  Alas and alack the day!  Well, ‘tis kind of cool, though.  Guess what, fans, friends and fiends.  I am writing to you from the top of my lap, using a laptop computer.  Um, well, no Daveman, as a matter of fact I didn’t take the whole new computer that Janet brought with her and sit it on my lap.  I have a little laptop computer of my very own!

We had a small windfall that it takes too long to explain and Margaret, being tired my incessant whining, “I could really work on my writing if I only had a laptop.  I could really be productive,” said I should get one.  It is not top of the line, state-of-the-art, but it is nice, with 224k Ram, 40G hard drive, 1.50G processor, sound, cd-rw, everything the aspiring writer might need (as opposed to want).

Now I am on the spot.  Now I will have to actually write something.  It’s taking a few days to get used to it, strange keyboard, no comfortable way to sit in the car for long stretches, plugging things in, but it’s cool.  I will be putting Civ III on here in a couple of days so then I will have to conquer the world, so I won’t be able to write.  No.  I really do want to write and am excited.

From the “Wisdom is Where You Find It” department I have an interesting quote.  I got it from a Starbuck’s cup (*sticks tongue out at Ashley * “Neener, neener, Neener!  I went to Starbucks!).  I was pleasantly surprised that along with the veritable plethora of quotes from a wide variety of sources, there was a quote from a Right-Wing, Conservative talk-show host and author, Michael Medved.

“The Way I See It” quote #51 says, “Americans spend an average of 29 hours a week watching television – which means in a typical life span we devote 13 uninterrupted years to our TV sets!  The biggest problem with mass media isn’t low quality – it’s high quantity.  Cutting down just an hour a day would provide extra years of life – for music and family, exercise and reading, conversation and coffee.”

Well, you know that I am no lover of Hollyweird and Mad Ave, but when I read that it blew me away.  Then I started thinking about all the times you go to someone’s house and the thing is on, blaring and blathering away, even while you are eating or talking.  As though it is no big deal that these people you have invited along with me (on the devilvision) are cursing rudely and interrupting and talking so loud that you cannot even concentrate, even though no one is watching it.  What’s even more amazing is when you ask if they would mind turning it off.  The person looks at you as if you have more heads than Zaphod Beeblebrox and acts like they didn’t even know it was on.

I’m not around people that cuss too much anymore, so it shocks me to hear it sometimes; especially since the 7 words you can never say on television appears to be outdated.  Would you normally let people talk that way in your house?  Would you let people behave that way?  If your children and/or grandchildren behaved the way people do on TV, and talked like it, would you not have something to say?

I was in a waiting room the other day and did get a ray of hope, however.  The hellavision was on and there was a “daytime drama” (not a soap opera anymore, apparently?  Is “Daytime Drama” more uptown, perhaps?) Blaring out of it.  No matter where you go or where you sit you can’t escape it.  But as I sat and listened to the conversation I thought about the old thing about putting a thousand monkeys in a room with a thousand typewriters for a thousand years and eventually producing “Hamlet.”  Does anyone know the real quote and/or who said it?  Anyway, I listened and decided that that must have been what the shows producers did!  I listened to the horrible dialogue about horrible acts horrible people were going to commit and decided I could do at least as good as that.  I think I might be able to write better than a monkey.  Why, I could probably write better than two or three monkeys.  Maybe more.

I was thinking about applying for a job as a writer of dialogue for daytime dramas and save a monkey or two, but then I realized I couldn’t do it.  What if they pay in bananas?

Remember, the good book says, “I will set no wicked thing before mine eyes.”

A quick update on baby Savannah.  She’s got a tooth!!!  One little one right in front on the bottom.  Woohoo!  She’s so big now!  “The Human adventure is just beginning.”

I have got to get back into the habit of not only carrying 3 X 5 cards in my pocket with me, but using them to keep notes on like I want to.  I have so many ideas during the day of things to write about, then when I get a chance to actually sit down and type them, pffft, they’re gone.

Speaking of sitting and typing, I am sitting on Janet’s computer, which is like so different than mine was.  It has twice the memory and processor speed mine had, four times the storage, and it doesn’t lock up all the time!  Windows XP has not been as hard to get used to as I had been told, either.  I guess, since Janet washed her shoes and her feet don’t stink anymore and she has let me hook up the good computer, we’ll just have to keep her.  Oh!  And get this.  She thought our quaint little dial-up connection was too slow, so she is springing for a cable connection.  Yowza!  Instead of taking a day and a half for some of your blogs that have the big graphics to load, it loads instantly.

There is one problem with this fine arrangement, however.  One thing that really, really, bugs me.  Since all this has taken place, I am at a loss for an excuse for why I don’t update.  Well, I still do have a life, so that should count for something.

Hoping not to offend anyone, I will preface my next comment by saying that each child is an individual.  Each child is a different person with their own interests and desires.  Not every type of situation is good for every child.  Some kids thrive in a home school environment, others in a private school or Christian school.

Abigail has been excelling in public school.  It is probably the best thing that has ever happened to her.  Harrison High School in District 2 is where she is going and she is doing well.  She is doing well academically, socially and, contrary to some that would be critical of this decision on our parts, spiritually as well.  It would not have been the right match for a couple of our other kids, but it is working out for her.

I was apprehensive of the public school system after the fiasco with Elizabeth in District 11.  They would not/could not work with our beliefs and when we confronted them they were rude and condescending.  I knew D-2 was run differently and had a different philosophy, but was really pleased with the attitudes we met.  Everyone has been accepting and understanding and the teachers, principals and counselors have been wonderful and actually treat us like we are fellow grown-ups.  They are big on respect, even though they don’t put it in words on their posters it comes through in their actions.  Respect authority, respect others, respect property, and respect yourself.  Having sat up with her doing homework, I know she is actually learning, too.  We met the teachers at an open house and the one teacher said, “You know, when kids come from a home-school background, they either ‘have it’ or they don’t and Abigail ‘has it.’  You folks have obviously done well.”  Better mention that Elizabeth helped with the home-schooling an awful lot before I break my arm patting myself on the back.

So, if you couldn’t tell, I am proud of Abigail.  Oh, stop.  I’m proud of all the other ones, too.  But they are all different.  How four children can be raised by the same parents with the same beliefs and grow up to be such diverse individuals is miraculous.

Remember, the Good book says, “Book learnin’ is all right as long as you don’t forget God in yer life.”

Okay, Daveman tagged me with one of these, so here goes.  I really am not a big fan of these…things (What are they called, and why?), but since I am a good sport I will try to think of 7 people that I can tag with it.  I think that since Ashley and Nicole don’t feel like they have a lot of readers and Ashley loves to do these things and Nicole hates them, I will start with them.  Oh, I can do Mandy, too, because I think she likes them as well.  I would tag Soosan, but she is too busy these days with other interests besides blogging (although she does update us sometimes, especially about, oh, some guy or something…*grins and ducks*) so that’s 4.  I wonder if Sam and Jinny would be willing to do it?  Maybe FGS, and/or Staircase365 which would make 7 or 8.  This would give readers a very diverse view, if everybody is nice to me and does it.  Now, I also don’t know when everyone has access to computers so the answers may be sporadic, plus I don’t have all of their e-mail addresses, so I will have to tag them through their blog.  Please go read them and if you feel like you have something to say, leave a comment.  You know how discouraging it is to write and not know anyone wants to read it.  I have about 25 blogs that I check regularly, (fortunately many of them update like I do), so it doesn’t always take long.  Sometime soon I will do a new list of people who I read often.

Here we go.

7 things that scare me

7 things I like the most

7 important things in my room

7 random facts about me

7 things I plan to do before I die

7 things I can do

7 things I can't do

7 things I say the most

7 celeb crushes

7 people who will have to do this

7 things that scare me

1)      A bug crawling on me that I didn’t expect to be there

2)      Bill collectors

3)      Rich people (well, okay, they annoy me more than anything…)

4)      Funerals

5)      Grapefruit

6)      The unknown

7)      *******

7 things I like the most

1)      Wisconsin Cheese

2)      Real, fresh from the vat Wisconsin cheese curds

3)      Beef

4)      Milk straight from the cow

5)      Pizza

6)      Coca-Cola

7)      Mountain Dew

7 important things in my room  (This would be on my desk, since that’s where I spend a lot of time)

1)      Printer

2)      Computer

3)      Coca-Cola Calendar

4)      Cowboy hats

5)      Sunday School book (Yes, Ashley, I can SO find it)

6)      Coca-Cola telephone Abby (My daughter) gave me for Christmas

7)      Writer’s Digest Magazine (Leave me alone, Ashley, I can find stuff, okay?)

7 random facts about me

1)      I snore

2)      I love to read Shakespeare

3)      I love to write

4)      I am 5’ 8” tall

5)      I dress myself

6)      I collect Coca-Cola paraphernalia

7)      I can spell paraphernalia without spell checker

7 things I plan hope to do before I die

1)      See Shakespeare performed in London

2)      Visit Ireland and learn about my ancestors

3)      Make money writing

4)      *********************************************

5)      Tour the Coca-Cola headquarters in Atlanta, GA.

6)      Ride in a balloon

7)      Go to Australia

7 things I can do

1)      Read

2)      Write

3)      Wear a cowboy hat

4)      Talk wit’ a Shawano accent once, hey.

5)      Talk like a Menom, en so horse.  Chrysler, bubba, you don’t know what a ‘nom is?

6)      Talk for hours about something I feel strongly about.

7)      Anything I want to learn that someone will teach me.

7 things I can't do

1)      ‘Rithmetic

2)      Drive a semi

3)      *********************************************

4)      Y’know, really, there is not too much that I can’t do if someone will just take the time to teach me.

7 things I say the most

1)      If everyone would just listen to me, we’d all be a lot better off.

2)      They didn’t ask me, did they?

3)      Huh?

4)      Was that your mom yelling for me?

5)      Yes, dear.

6)      I love you!

7)      That’s nastier than Carter’s feet and Daveman’s undies combined.  (Okay, maybe I don’t have occasion to ever say that because nothing like that could possibly exist, but I might sometimes…Maybe one of Carter’s exes…?  Never mind.)

7 celeb crushes

I haven’t owned a TV since 1988 and try not to support Hollyweird and Mad Ave so I really don’t know any celebs.  I was never a big celeb crush person anyway.

7 people who will have to do this I hope will do this:

1)      Ashley http://ashleylintner.blogdrive.com/

2)      Nicole http://nicoler.blogdrive.com/

3)      Mandy http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=crzytexaschiq

4)      Soosan  http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=sbalak

5)      Sam http://samsam.blogdrive.com/

6)      Jinny http://jincruise.blogdrive.com/

7)      Fat Girl Slim http://fatgirlslim.blogdrive.com/

8)      Staircase 365 http://staircase365.blogdrive.com/

Remember, the good book says, A Local Area Network in Australia is the LAN down under.

Before I get to Daveman’s tag or meme or whatever you call it, I will share with you the story of how I became known as Mayor Biff, first in the training class, then later it just sort of spread, thanks, at least in part, to Cindy saying, “Hiya Mayor Biff!” as we passed in the halls.

I told you yesterday how I became the mayor.  The nickname had caught on and after a couple of weeks it had pretty much stuck.  During that time I was also Committee chairman of our boy Scout troop and we were planning an outing.  Nothing real big for us, we were used to going out winter camping, but it was summertime and we decided to hike to Devil’s head Peak.  Not nearly as treacherous as it sounds, it has a camping and picnicking area and the trail to the top is beautiful.  At the top is a Forest Service lookout tower that you can go on and view the mountains all around.  They still use it to spot fires and other potential problems.

The drive up there, via rampart Range road is beautiful beyond words with many pullouts that are convenient for taking photos, which we had stopped to do.  The gravel roads throughout the various counties that go through the mountains are, generally in passable condition for a hardy vehicle.  We had stopped and pulled off for picture taking and I was moseying back to the van with a couple of the boys.  They looked at each other and Travis slapped me on the back and said, “Beat you back to the van, old man!”  The other boy tagged me and they were off like a shot.  Obviously I could not leave such a provoking challenge unmet, so off I raced.  The two young whippersnappers had a head start but I was gaining.  In fact, I had just reached them and was neck and neck and was about to grab one by the shoulder when I hit a hole in the gravel road.

I went sailing through the air like I was about to make a big belly flop, which I was.  Arms and legs flew askance, my hat flew one way, my camera flew the other way and I went down in the gravel.  That was Saturday, and by Monday I was stiff and sore and when I entered the classroom several of my coworkers asked what happened.  Monica said, “You really did a major biff there, mayor!” and Cindy said, “Say, that has a kind of a ring to it, doesn’t it?  Mayor Biff!”

So there you have it.

In other news, you may recall I had, by my black thumb, killed the Savannah Melody daylily.  This had struck Janet as being odd, since, according to her, they are almost indestructible.  This weekend I was performing that favorite chore of cleaning the bunny cage and looked at the site of the travesty.  There were three brand new, beautiful green plants!  Better looking than new!  They haven’t flowered yet, but I was really excited about that!  Woo-hoo.

Speaking of Savannah Melody, she is at the stage where she has to grab people’s food when they are eating it.  She wants to try everything.  Well, tonight dad and mom had some lemons and limes out and Savannah wanted a lime.

“No, baby, you don’t want to try that.”

*squawk, grab*

“You really don’t.”

*squawk, grab*

“Okay,” So they cut a quarter of a lime off and handed it to her.  At first she was suspicious, because they don’t usually give in that quick, but she put it to her nose, the felt it with her fingers, then, into the mouth it goes.

No reaction.  No grimace or twisted face, “She likes it!”

Of course this is the same child who, when dad was laying on the floor in his shorts reading his book, crawled up behind him and bit him in the butt.

Janet is sitting on the couch and just asked me if I was working on a new blog entry and wonders if I have anything to say about her yet.  So, since she asked, I will have to tell her.  Her feet stink and her mother dresses her funny.  Actually she dresses her mother funny, but I guess that’s an entry for another day.

Remember, the good book says, “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know!"

Okay, we have a new and improved, highly superior computer system now!!  Woo-hoo!  The only thing the thing it cannot do is make more time for everything that needs to be done.  There is still homework to help with (One day soon, probably after Open House, I will write a little about Abigail’s start of high school, which is our first experience with the public School system since our fiasco with Elizabeth and D-11.  Abigail’s in D-2 and it is going well.), work to do, places to go, a life beyond the blogosphere.

Now according to Katheren, Margaret’s sister that lives in upstate New York, I have told this story out of sequence already.  I told the part about the wedding first, however, because it was the first thing on my mind and I thought my readers, especially the female ones (which I think outnumber the male readers).  Yes, AbbyNormal, I am a guy about such things, often subjected to the epithet, “You are such a guy!”  I look at the bright side.  I would make a REALLY ugly girl.

It had been decided previously that Janet, Margaret’s sister, was going to come live with us and there had been a standing invitation to the sister living in New York (Katheren) to come out and visit Colorado.  Well, Katheren and her boyfriend finally decided to come visit, so they swung by Wisconsin on the way here and picked up Janet and some of her more important possessions, like her two computers.  This all in time for the wedding.

So, now, we continue the story in the evening of the wedding.  We went to the Flying W Ranch.  This is one of my favorite places in the whole world to visit and we had been trying to tell Katheren about it for some time.  They have a western town set up which is kind of a mix between a museum and a gift mall.  All of the buildings are authentic, and came from different areas on the plains.  The schoolhouse is really amazing to me.  They bought it from someone somewhere out on the plains (I didn’t think to re-read the plaque this time and don’t remember where), numbered each log, took it apart and rebuilt it by the numbers.  There is a beautiful little church, a display with a couple of the different styles of coffins they had in the Old West.  Yes, a pine box really was just that.  There is a little jail that came, if I remember right, from Manitou, and several other things I can’t recall right now.  In nice weather you can climb to the to of “Christmas Rock” and look down on the whole scene as well as spend a dollar and ride a little train around the place.  The steakhouse is the old Ute Theatre that was in downtown Colorado Springs and has murals on the wall that are explained by a recording.

We get there early so we can get the best seats for the show.  This time I stopped and watched the farrier shoe the horse with Wayne, who used to raise horses.  (Wayne brought me a new Stetson and another hat and has also sent me a Coca-Cola ball cap!  The Stetson is grey and a little higher than I am used to, but very nice 6X beaver.  I guess I get to be part good guy now, huh?)  This was the cowboy who had got the rescue horse, which was 250 pounds underweight when he got it.  It looked pretty good now.

The shoeing of the horse requires a sidetrack now.  Parents amaze and aggravate me.  I liked the parents that I heard explaining things in an easy to understand, factual way.  If you have never seen a horse shod, there is some trimming and cleaning of the hoof with sharp objects, being explained.

“What is he doing to the horse with that knife?  Does it hurt him?”

“No, sweety, it’s like when mommy trims your finger nails.  Does that hurt?”

“If you get too close it does.”

“Exactly.  The man knows how close is too close and if the horse was being hurt he would make noise.”

Bravo, mom!

“Why’s he digging in the horse’s hoof with that thing?”

“It’s the same as cleaning your fingernails, he has to get all that junk out of there to make a clean surface for the shoe to go on flat.”

Good mom!

“Why does the horse pull away like that?”

“Just like when we trim the dog’s nails and she tries to pull her paw back even when we are not hurting her at all.  If we let them grow it would be worse.”

Fine.  All intelligent answers.  The one that got me was the feller telling the kid, “Oooh, he’s hitting the horsey with a hammer.  Is he bad?”  Aaaaaaarrrrrgggggghhhhh!  Shut up you meathead!

Anyway, it was a good time.  Then comes supper.  We are all seated, waiting for the instructions on how they are going to get over a thousand people through the line.  I see my friend Scotty, who is one of the performers.  We have been friends for a long time because I used to work with his wife, Cindy, who was a claims trainer at USAA insurance while I was there.  Cindy is probably one of the best teachers in the world and I don’t think that I could say enough good things about someone who can put up with me for 8 weeks without killing me.  Without getting too far off the track, I am an adult with ADD and my learning style reflects this.

At one point in my training I exasperated her to the point where she finally said, “Herb!  If you keep up this way, I’m going to…I’m going to…” Cindy is a very sweet person who really tries to be a Christian in everything and generally doesn’t lose her cool, “I’m going to proclaim you the Mayor of this class!”  Well, she told me!  Hahaha!  I still really don’t have any idea why this was an effective threat, but ever since then she has always called me “The Mayor.”  How I came to be Mayor Biff is a different entry, however.  The point of all that, however, is that I became friends with Cindy and through her got to know Scotty.  By reason of all that, I wound up in a business deal with Vern, the bandleader and business manager.  That was when I had the business and he was far more than fair and honest with me in our deal.  I guess that’s another reason I feel comfortable sending friends and family there.  I know that these are folks who believe in the values they talk about and have ideals and morals.  Like anyone that goes into any business, they need to turn a profit, but it is honestly made.  You don’t have a thousand people a night, seven days a week, all summer long, go to a place and go back and go back if you’re not honest.  Things don’t work that way.

I went up to talk to Scotty as he was setting up and he told that Cindy was there!  I hadn’t seen her in five years!  I went and visited with her and re-introduced her to the family and the groom.  Five years is a long time to not see someone.  You would expect a person to have aged a little bit in five years, but Cindy had obviously been getting younger instead of older.  So there was happy energy in the air, seeing Scotty and Cindy and Vern.

The chuck wagon dinner is good.  They serve chicken and have steak available, but I usually have the bbq beef.  They are a working cattle ranch in the middle of town and I guess I agree with Scotty that there’s just somethin’ not that western about ropin’ a chicken.

The entertainment is good clean fun.  They are the second oldest Cowboy band in the nation, the only older one is the Sons of the Pioneers, and they put on a show that is just great.  They play and sing Western music (as opposed to Country & Western music) and do some humor throughout.  I say it is clean.  It is one of the few places in town my pastor feels comfortable taking out of town visitors and guest preachers and inviting our entire youth conference to.  I have seen people from many different sects with a reputation for being very strict visit there as well as Boy Scout troops and whole buses of out of town visitors.

Now, Scotty Vaughn is at least 6 foot, two and is a rugged, strapping cowboy.  A big, manly, man of a cowboy.  So, when he comes out onstage dressed in a squirrel suit to sing Ray Stevens’ “Mississippi Squirrel Revival” song, well, there ain’t nothin’ quite like that! Sometimes he does “Junkfood Junkie” or “I’m My Own Grandpa” but tonight we got to see the squirrel.

All in all, a fun evening and a great day were had by all.

The Good Book says, laughter is good medicine.