I have had a cold for the past several days and while it has been taking its time progressing through the various stages of ickiness I have been sleeping in until 4 and sometimes even 4:30.  Even when I am sitting around waiting and have my laptop I have been resting instead of writing.  I still don’t have a clear idea of what today’s entry will be about yet, but I am thinking maybe a hodge-podge of different things.  Frankly I feel a little burned out, which might be the cough medicine talking.

I have been reading all of your blogs though.  I may not comment every single time I stop by because I have about 25 that I look at regularly, but I try to comment if I can think of something to say.  I do this because I like it when people comment here.  I try to respond to comments that seem to need or want response, and enjoy occasionally bantering and bandying about.  I know, I know, it’s only funny till somebody loses an eye.

Daveman and Ashley have been nagging me to update the humor blog, too.  Nicole was supposed to be helping me with that, but now she has a real job and her time is limited between that and church and going to Kansas via Oklahoma.  I wouldn’t tease her about that one since it wasn’t really her fault, but she wrote about it in her blog.  The reason I can get through 25 blogs is that not everyone updates all the time.  Nicole works and Ashley can’t always get access to a computer, but I go back and check their blogs all the time.  Same with Jinny’s blog.  You’d think a research scientist and full-time student wouldn’t have anything better to do, although Sam is also a research scientist and a full-time student and he blogs every day.  I think he should be on Blogdrive’s favorites with Abby Normal.

Now I have started talking about blogs and don’t know where to go next.  Anyway, everyone updates at a different rate and so I don’t actually have to read 25 blogs every day.  How did I get on that, anyway?  Oh, I remember (he said, re-reading the previous paragraph), the humor blog.  I had invited Nicole to contribute because she has access to her father’s archives of clean jokes.  He was a great guy with a wonderful sense of humor that was always ready to laugh.  He had put out a humor newsletter that was nothing but clean jokes, which, in the words of my friend, Ken D., are “so squeaky clean you can even tell your pastor.”  His birthday was just last month and I know his wife and kids had to be feeling it.  You know, you don’t ever “get over” it when someone dies.  Well, I know you all are anxious for me to go down that cheerful road, but I have other fish to fry.

Aaarrrggghhh!  I keep going off on a tangent.  I guess cough medicine is not the best muse, huh?  Anyway, I do have plans to update the humor blog.  I have a big fat book from the turn of the last century that is full of jokes.  It is dated because it does have sections of jokes based racial stereotypes, such as “colored people,” the Irish, Germans, Italians, etc.  Many of the jokes are about groups like businessmen, bankers, lawyers, doctors and preachers, though.  Personally I love puns.  I have several books of puns and many that I made up or heard from my dad.

Okay, I’m getting tired now, so I will write more in a couple of days when I am more coherent, or less incoherent than now at any rate.

Remember, as the good book says, “She was only a necktie salesgirl, but she knew how to collar a man.”

That’s it.

I’m done.

Buh-bye.

"Oh we'll smash the saloon when we're men,

We'll hit it again and again,

We shall tear it down,

Down unto the ground,

Oh, we'll smash the saloon when we're men…"

"We'll Smash the Saloon"…From a Sunday School songbook ca. 1900 called "Songs for Little Singers."

"Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise."  Proverbs 20:1

I hate alcohol.  Read the rest  here.

Sorry I haven’t been updating lately.  A couple of things have come up.  One is, I think I am fighting something off.  I have been sleeping in every morning until 4:30 or quarter to five.  I barely have time to read blogs and answer e-mail.  Of course that isn’t real hard, as the bulk of e-mail I get is from Carter or my brother.  Second is that I have rediscovered how much I like playing Civilization III!  On my old computer it locked up all the time and the screen wasn’t real clear and it was more frustrating than anything.  Now I remember how much fun it is to rule the world, but in so doing I have been neglecting my writing somewhat.

Christmas Shopping Hint:  Civilization IV is coming out!

Not very subtle?  Oh, I gave up on subtle a long time ago.  Civilization is one of the greatest strategy games ever.

Yesterday we went to look at apartments with Elizabeth.  They have been staying with Troy’s grandparents, but now it is time to move on.  The third place we looked was within easy walking distance (less than 1/2 mile) of Troy’s job and 3 or 4 city bus routes.  They have been warned by some well-meaning souls that they will never make it and will fall flat on their faces.  I don’t think that will happen.  Troy works very hard at his job 40+ hours a week and is a full-time college student as well and has been doing this for a while.  I think they will do just fine.

The apartment is a nice one bedroom and relatively inexpensive.  They have been saving money and carefully budgeting and will do well if they keep on as they have been.  I have to say that I am very proud of what Troy has accomplished in a short time and I am not worried about them failing as much as them being so successful that it will go to their head.

Why do people make such dire predictions?  Is it sort of an anti-motivation thing like “Staircase365” mentioned?  That’s the only thing I can think.  Some people take it as a personal challenge when you say you don’t think they can do a thing.  They said Margaret and I wouldn’t last 2 weeks and it has been 25 years (This is where Margaret can do the old joke,

“Margaret:  We’ve been happily married for 20 years.

Herb:  Um, dear, we’ve been married for 25 years.

Margaret:  Well, some of them years weren’t all that great.”

And rightly so, because that’s the kind of guy I am and she knows it.  Borrowing that ten bucks for our marriage license was the smartest thing I ever did.  And I’ll pay her back someday, too.

Remember, The Good Book says, Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour of the LORD.

Oh, I’m a baaaaaad boy!

I did it.  I took the last homemade chocolate chip cookie.  Carter will remember Margaret making them, and every time she would, my uncle would magically appear out of nowhere.  He could be on a deer stand in the middle of the Wisconsin north woods at -50 F and somehow realize cookies were baking.

Well, now my daughter Tabitha does it.  We buy the big bag of the name brand chips and she just uses the recipe off the side of the bag except that I do NOT like nuts in my chocolate chip cookies, especially walnuts, but any nuts really.  I like them soft and warm and chewy, right out of the oven with a glass of whole milk…Yeah buddy!  And How!

Sounds like the makings of a new poll.

Results of the old poll

13 total votes

46% Creamy

8% Crunchy

46% Extra Cruchy

0% Can’t stomach the stuff

0% Allergic

0% Deathly allergic

So now I will start a new poll.  The field marked “Chipless” is to honor my friend James who is over in Iraq and a little too busy to read blogs.  When he used to come over and Tabitha would be baking cookies, she would bake a special batch just for him without any chips.

The pictures from Elizabeth’s wedding are up in the gallery along with pictures of “The Tooth.”  Actually it is the “teeth.”  She is sprouting them jokers all over the place.  Well, okay, two on the bottom and two are coming in on top.  She was over last night.  She is crawling now and can pull herself up on things.  She had fun with grandma’s big (giant) Tupperware mixing bowl and some measuring spoons and cups.  I will try to put descriptions by some of the pics to help you keep track.  She is a real cutie.  Most of the really good pictures were taken by my daughter-in-law, Isabel.

Savannah eating her first bowl of spaghetti is really great.  Well, there are plenty to browse through this time.  She is a 16+ pounder, we have kind of stopped keeping track, you know.

She is 10 months old, now!  It will be a year ago November 28^th that the little 1 ½ pound, 27 week preemie came out with her fist clenched, fighting for life.

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.”