February 7th. the Toilet Bowl...

If I were tasked with coming up with a list of the all-time worst opening sentences for a blog, this would surely be at or near the top:

".......Today I had an appointment with a Gastorintestinal Specialist."

So, I apologize in advance for what follows. Yes, it's true, I did have an appointment with a Gastrointestinal Specialist, a Dr. William Brand, or GI Bill, for short. Nice guy. Knowledgable and pleasant, in a Dr. Rodgers sort of way. I found that he spent a lot of time finishing my sentences for me, as if he knew that the subject at hand was difficult to talk about, so part of his job was helping me talk through the gross parts...and all of it are the gross parts. But GI Bill got me through it with my dignity intact. 

GI Bill stressed the importance of scheduling a colonoscopy as soon as possible. I agreed and promised to sit down with his scheduler on my way out. Before I knew what was happening, I had a 6:30 AM appointment penciled in for Monday the 8th of February, compete with explicit instructions of what I needed to do in the 24 hours prior to my big day. From daybreak on Sunday morning, the 7th, I am to have an all-liquid diet consisting of water, coffee, jello, Popsicles, chicken broth and the like. At 5 pm on Sunday, I am to start drinking one 8oz. glass of PEG 3350 every 15 minutes until half of the gallon jug is gone. I was assured by GI Bill that the lemon flavoring that comes with the concoction makes the experience, "not nearly as horrible as it used to be." I thought of the great line from Julius Caesar, " damning with faint praise..."

Then the instructions take a sudden, darker turn with this beauty..."at 10pm, resume drinking one 8oz. glass every 15 minutes until the gallon container is empty...if you experience nausea, slow your intake! No way! If I start experiencing nausea, I'm gonna pound the rest of the jug all at once!! Morons...

As disconcerting as all of this was, I had made my peace with the inevitable when I got back to the office and called Pam to fill her in on the plan. It was then when she reminded me that my appointment was Monday, Feb. 8th. The day after the Super Bowl!! That's right, sports fans, my 24 hours of all liquid hell will be taking place on one of the most delicious days of the year. While the rest of you will be throwing back nachos, pizza, Italian sandwiches, meatballs, bacon, cheese, bratwurst, hot sausages,  and washing it all down with beer, I'll be chowing down on six different flavors of jello. About the time all of you will be enjoying the Super Bowl...Ill be getting intimately acquainted with the Toilet Bowl!

But, GI Bill assures me that this procedure can't wait until the Spring. No no...it must be done right away. So, looks like I'll be having an all liquid diet Super Bowl experience.

That's just how I roll.

Falwell Endorses Trump?

Alright kids, the 2016 Presidential election has now entered the Twilight Zone. I mean, it's been weird for quite a while already, but today the weirdness quotient went through the roof. The President of Liberty University, Jerry Falwell Jr. endorsed Donald Trump for President of the United States of America.

That's the rough equivalent of saying something like, "Billy Graham announced today from his deathbed that back in 1955 he had an inappropriate relationship with Fidel Castro," or "Famous leftist actor Sean Penn today gave his enthusiastic endorsement to Mike Huckabee's candidacy."

Ok, Liberty University is the largest Christian University in the Cosmos. It's core mission is to provide quality education to young skulls full of mush with a biblical worldview. That particular perspective takes a dim view of stuff like divorce, and abortion, vices like gambling and pornography, and encourages it's students to askew the lure of money and materialism as the be all and end all of life. So...the school's President comes out with a full-throated endorsement of a man who is on his third wife, has been pro-choice all of his natural life, has made his living building casinos, and has carefully crafted for himself an unparalleled reputation as the very definition of materialistic excess. Wait...what?

Now listen, I understand that Christians can disagree when it comes to politics. Heck, I disagree with my own kids about politics all the time, so I get it. And I also know, that when we as citizens enter the voting booth, we are not electing a Sunday School teacher. We often have to make a pragmatic choice between two flawed candidates, neither of whom we would want anywhere near a Sunday School class. Many times it comes down to...who will do the least harm?

But, as a Christian, a man's character has to enter into the calculus, does it not? The things that this man has said over the past six months of this campaign have been staggering. How can someone who claims to live by Christian principles fail to hear the thinly veiled racism in his remarks about Mexicans? Shouldn't any self-respecting Christian cringe when they hear a candidate for the Presidency mocking the disabled? What should go through the mind of a Christian father and husband when they hear Mr. Trump talking about how smoking hot his daughter is and how if he were a little younger and, you know, NOT HER DAD, maybe he would date her? More importantly, how should someone like Jerry Falwell Jr. feel when he hears a man who has been a party to two failed marriages and four bankruptcies say that he can't ever remember asking God for forgiveness for anything since he doesn't think he's ever done anything that required it?

One more thing that bothers me about not only the Falwell endorsement, but the many other evangelical leaders who have warmed to Trump...since when did "Making America Great Again" become a project of Christianity? Don't misunderstand me, I love my country, and like any other American, I want it to be better. But the primary focus of the Christian faith is not to make America better, it's to make people better, by introducing them to the person and teachings of Jesus Christ. Hopefully, properly discipled Christians will become better people, more caring, more courageous and  better citizens. But if Making America Great involves chasing after some nationalistic renewal built upon hatred, envy and ego, then count me out.

Sure, when I vote, I try to elect people who share my spiritual ethics. Sometimes it's easier than others. But generally speaking, I don't go out of my way to vote for someone who's entire life has been a living, breathing rebuke to biblical Christianity. Especially when there are still so many other alternatives from which to pick.

So, when I see someone as influential as Jerry Falwell Jr. endorsing Donald Trump, I wonder...how much money did the Trumpster promise Liberty University?

The Fridge of Fame

First day back at the office aft the big snow weekend was super busy. By 3:00 I was tight as a drum so I went to the gym for a workout. When I got home, I noticed that my wife had spent part of the day updating and organizing the Fridge of Fame. What am I talking about? It's an entire side of our refrigerator that's full of pictures in little magnetized clear frames. It looks like this...

It's a long story. Many years ago, I was involved in the youth group at my church. I taught boys Sunday School, and other coed bible studies for the better part of ten years. Along the way, Pam and I got close to quite a few of those kids. Somewhere along the way, I started collecting senior pictures from some of my favorites whenever they graduated. I set up a little competition among them to see which ones could earn a spot on the coveted Fridge of Fame. When large, unruly mobs of them would descend upon our house on summer nights, they would fight with each other about where they were in the lineup. There's almost 70 senior pictures up there now, along with pictures of their children now. It's an amazing sight. Every so often Pam reorganizes it, because it gets messy. But we've never considered taking it down. 

When I go downstairs to get something to eat late at night, I often stop and look at this kids. I say a quick prayer for some of them who are struggling, I thank God for their successes. But mostly, I just feel grateful that I was given the opportunity to share life with them when they were all just kids trying to figure things out. I hope I was able to help some of them.

I know that they helped me.

Snowmageddon...Part Six

Sunday, January 24, 8:24am. 

Officially tired of posting this picture. As soon as I'm done with breakfast, Pam and Lucy and I will venture out to walk and play and measure the stuff. Then it will be time to shovel for the second time. Around 11:00 yesterday I cleared the front steps and sidewalk. Last night at 10:00 it looked like this when I opened the front door:

No church today. Got the email last night. 

I posted this photograph on my Facebook wall this morning. It moved me more than I can express. Here we all are making snow angels and sipping hot cocoa while at the tomb of the unknown soldier, this is happening. This soldier, with a thin pair of wool gloves and nothing covering his ears from the brutal wind and snow, keeps watch. In this age of celebrity worship, reality television presidential candidates, and abject national silliness, there are still men and women like this. Duty, honor, respect still have the capacity to inspire, don't they?

The greatest thing about this storm has been the fact that every meal I've eaten since lunch on Friday has contained sausage. My wife is amazing. She knows that one of the few tools she has in the battle against my antsiness and cabin fever is...food. Wise woman, she is. However, delicious sausage not withstanding, I have informed her that I will be driving out of here today. She sighed heavily and smiled. 

Snowmageddon...Part Five

Saturday afternoon, January 23, 4:09 pm.

Around 5 hours ago I shoveled a lane from my back door to the patio so Lucy wouldn't have to trudge through a foot of snow on her way to do her business. Now all that work is covered by a foot of freshly fallen snow and the drifting of a thousand winds. Although I haven't ventured out with a tape measure, my eyes tell me that there is over a foot on the ground.

Many of you know me quite well, and for those who do, I'm sure you're wondering how I am managing my well-known cabin fever attacks. An excellent question. The truth is that it hasn't been too bad so far. I can, however, feel it coming on. At some point I will insist on taking Pam's car out to Martins for something that I will convince myself we desperately need. Why Pam's car? Well, I may be antsy, but I'm no idiot!

Up to this point I have fought off my cabin fever with stuff like this: 

Yes, I think I may have had just a bit too much fun with this one!

I took a nap earlier and while I was asleep my wife embarked on another one of her tidying up campaigns. She completely reorganized the cookware cabinets to accommodate her new cast iron skillets. Then she had time left over to set a "snow table" overlooking our front yard: 

Rumor has it that she is planning some sort of afternoon dessert consisting of the left over waffles from breakfast and vanilla ice cream. 

So, yeah, everything is positively idyllic around here. But all of this lovely vibe will vanish into thin air the very second we lose power, so I guess I better relax and enjoy it while I can!

Snowmageddon...Part Four

Saturday morning, January 23, 8:04am.

Looks like about 9 inches out there. Overnight the snow became sleet...lots of sleet. There's a 20 inch deep pile of it at my front door where it gathers after it slides down the roof. The Donald Trump of weather forecasting, DT Tolleris of Wxrisk.com, has been forced to issue a mea culpa this morning. Apparently, all of the local TV weather guys who had been warning of the sleet transition all week...the very same guys who DT was calling "losers and idiots"(sound familiar?) ended up being right. So, we will not be getting two feet of snow after all. 

We learned something new about Lucy last night. To the long and tortured list of things which she is deathly afraid of can be added...sleet tingling against windows.

So, last night she's laying at our feet on the bed like normal when all of a sudden a gust of wind blew a sheet of sleet against the windows of our bedroom. Immediately she jumped off the bed and ran into the closet. Eventually she made her way back on the bed during the night, when in the midst of a rather loud hail of sleet, we were awakened by a shivering puppy trying to burry her head under our pillows! 

This morning, the sleet has stopped and the old girl has had a romp in the backyard and all is well. Waffles and sausage links are cooking for breakfast, and at some point I'm going to have to venture outside to dig us out.

Be safe everyone.

Snowmageddon....Part Three.

 4:17 pm. 

There has been a flurry of activity over the past five hours, if you get my drift. Thanks, Snowbama!

Pam has made cookies.

The fixins for sausage and lentil soup are being prepared.

The wind is starting to blow. When you look outside its hard to tell how much of what is coming down is snow and how much is just snow blowing off of the roof. Either way, the stuff is starting to pile up. At some point Lucy is going to need to venture out into it for her first pee trip since 6:30 this morning. So far she has shown zero interest. I guess we'll soon discover just how strong her bladder actually is.

Speaking of politics...I wonder which Presidential candidate would be most likely to volunteer to shovel my driveway?

Bernie Sanders.....too old, might throw out his back.

Hillary Clinton....not a chance, although she might ask Huma to take a shot at it.

Martin O'Malley...would jump at the chance! Only he would insist on stripping to the waist and asking me to get a shot of his rock hard abs and post it on his Facebook page.

Jeb Bush....wouldn't know how.

Chris Christie...would collapse of a heart attack

Marco Rubio and Ted Cruz would fight each other over who gets to shovel my driveway.

Rand Paul wouldn't want to insult my intelligence by stooping to such pandering.

Donald Trump would promise to shovel my driveway, but would end up sending over a couple of Honduran day laborers to do it.