The internet outage did not hurt me as bad as I thought it would. I crumpled to the floor in a fetal position only three times (just kidding). It was amazing to see how much of our work is done through cyberspace. We were at times twiddling our thumbs, looking for things to do. We cleaned out drawers that hadn’t been emptied in years. I almost made it through the whole stack of stuff on my desk.
The biggest downside to being incommunicado yesterday for me was, it threw me a day late on sermon preparation. I’m playing catch-up today. Pray for me.
My right eye has been hurting lately. I’m not sure what’s wrong. Pray it will not be a distraction to me today as I prepare the sermon.
Humor helps. What jet pilots think of helicopters. Anything that whirls its way into the sky flies according to unnatural principles. A helicopter flight is a bunch of spare parts flying in close formation. You never see old helicopters laying around an airport like you do old planes; there is a reason for this. Come to think of it, old helicopter pilots are rarely seen; not a good omen. Helicopter pilots are intense, ever ready in case a piece of something falls off.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Scalped Scalp
After two days of rest, I and my scalped scalp are back at work. Ruth took one look at my hair this morning and laughed out loud. She could barely contain her giggling as she re-combed it for me.
I am blogging at record speed this morning. In about 33 minutes our internet server is going down for repairs and updates. That means we will be incommunicado here at church for much of the day.
This power outage is not good for me. As you know, my name is John, and I am addicted to communicating. No internet, no blog, no email, no computer–I feel sweat popping out on my brow. My hands are clammy. My knees are weak. I can’t seem to stand on my own two feet. I’m all shook up. Sorry, Elvis.
Humor helps. Thoughts on being 57. If you’re only as old as you feel, how can I be alive at 150? They seem to be making adults much younger these days. I’m a walking storeroom of facts; I’ve just lost the key to the storeroom. I am still the life of the party; even if lasts till 8 p.m. I’ve become very good at opening childproof caps with a hammer.
I am blogging at record speed this morning. In about 33 minutes our internet server is going down for repairs and updates. That means we will be incommunicado here at church for much of the day.
This power outage is not good for me. As you know, my name is John, and I am addicted to communicating. No internet, no blog, no email, no computer–I feel sweat popping out on my brow. My hands are clammy. My knees are weak. I can’t seem to stand on my own two feet. I’m all shook up. Sorry, Elvis.
Humor helps. Thoughts on being 57. If you’re only as old as you feel, how can I be alive at 150? They seem to be making adults much younger these days. I’m a walking storeroom of facts; I’ve just lost the key to the storeroom. I am still the life of the party; even if lasts till 8 p.m. I’ve become very good at opening childproof caps with a hammer.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Stylin'
I got a haircut on Saturday. I showed up at church yesterday with the shortest hair I’ve had in years, maybe ever. I thought you might like to read some unsolicited comments I received from our church people.
You look younger the other way. Who gave you that butch? It looked like a Mohawk from the side. Your summer haircut. You had an appointment with a barber. I didn’t recognize you. Looks good. Looks hip. Stylin’. You got every hair cut. Two cuts for one price. I thought you got drafted. Takes 10 years off your life. Makes you look older. No curling iron needed on that doo. You found a barber. The lawn mower got loose. What happened to you?
The most memorable remark came from my grandson Caleb (age 12). “Grandpa, you needed a haircut. I was getting tired of your puffed-up hair. Grandpa, do you know why television preachers like fluffy hair? Because it gives them a place to stick their money.” Ouch.
You look younger the other way. Who gave you that butch? It looked like a Mohawk from the side. Your summer haircut. You had an appointment with a barber. I didn’t recognize you. Looks good. Looks hip. Stylin’. You got every hair cut. Two cuts for one price. I thought you got drafted. Takes 10 years off your life. Makes you look older. No curling iron needed on that doo. You found a barber. The lawn mower got loose. What happened to you?
The most memorable remark came from my grandson Caleb (age 12). “Grandpa, you needed a haircut. I was getting tired of your puffed-up hair. Grandpa, do you know why television preachers like fluffy hair? Because it gives them a place to stick their money.” Ouch.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Don't Die Again
Last night Ian (age 3) and Lilly Ruth (age 1) shared a hot cross bun at supper. After Nathan and Rebekah explained the significance of the cross, Ian ended his blessing with these words, “I remind you of the cross that you died on, and that’s sadly. And don’t do that again, okay, God?” Speaking of Ian, he will turn 4 next week. Sam will turn 10 the same day.
This afternoon I plan to head over to Greenlawn East for Ruth Shook’s viewing. She was a member of Second for 65 years. She and Bill were wed in our World War I building in January 1948. While visiting at their house the other day, I saw their wedding picture. They were standing in front of our current Lord’s Supper table. It’s a historic photo in more ways than one.
Pray for Ben as he preaches all three services this morning. I and everyone else will be blessed. Enjoy a safe, restful Family Night at Home this evening.
Humor helps. Retiree answers. How many days in a week? 6 Saturdays, 1 Sunday. When is bedtime? 3 hours after I fall asleep on the couch. Why is it okay to call you a senior citizen? 10% discount. What do you consider formal attire? Tied shoes. What do you call someone who refused to retire? NUTS!
This afternoon I plan to head over to Greenlawn East for Ruth Shook’s viewing. She was a member of Second for 65 years. She and Bill were wed in our World War I building in January 1948. While visiting at their house the other day, I saw their wedding picture. They were standing in front of our current Lord’s Supper table. It’s a historic photo in more ways than one.
Pray for Ben as he preaches all three services this morning. I and everyone else will be blessed. Enjoy a safe, restful Family Night at Home this evening.
Humor helps. Retiree answers. How many days in a week? 6 Saturdays, 1 Sunday. When is bedtime? 3 hours after I fall asleep on the couch. Why is it okay to call you a senior citizen? 10% discount. What do you consider formal attire? Tied shoes. What do you call someone who refused to retire? NUTS!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
The Amnesia Diet
Ruth and I slipped away for an overnighter to celebrate our anniversary. We went to a restaurant, ordered a nice meal, and ended up discovering a new weight loss idea. Trying to be careful, we put a lot of the meal in a to-go box. Back at the hotel, Ruth asked, “Where’s the leftover food?” “I thought you had it.” There you have it!! A new weight-loss idea. Fill a to-go box full and leave it at the restaurant.
I called Bob Roberts to say I was sorry this morning’s rain spoiled our church’s plans to work at our Victory Garden. Oh ye of little faith!! There were 18 hardy souls out there working in the mud and slush and you-know-what. Unbelievable.
I’m at church right now getting ready for tomorrow. I’ll be present, but Ben Pilgreen will preach all three services in the morning. I plan to take a few days off next week over Spring Break. I need the rest. Thanks for praying.
Humor helps. We mathematicians love math jokes. Ratio of an igloo’s circumference to its diameter: Eskimo Pi. A Won-ton is 2000 pounds of Chinese soup. The weight an evangelist carries with God: one billigram (think about it). 1000 aches and pains: one megahurtz. 365.25 days equals one unicycle.
I called Bob Roberts to say I was sorry this morning’s rain spoiled our church’s plans to work at our Victory Garden. Oh ye of little faith!! There were 18 hardy souls out there working in the mud and slush and you-know-what. Unbelievable.
I’m at church right now getting ready for tomorrow. I’ll be present, but Ben Pilgreen will preach all three services in the morning. I plan to take a few days off next week over Spring Break. I need the rest. Thanks for praying.
Humor helps. We mathematicians love math jokes. Ratio of an igloo’s circumference to its diameter: Eskimo Pi. A Won-ton is 2000 pounds of Chinese soup. The weight an evangelist carries with God: one billigram (think about it). 1000 aches and pains: one megahurtz. 365.25 days equals one unicycle.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Wed 38 Years
Ruth and I wed 38 years ago today. Our marriage truly is as good in private as it appears to be in public. We feel we were made for each other. I love her. I often tell her, “Ruth, I love you more today than I did yesterday, and yesterday was a record day.”
Yesterday afternoon Caleb started out the back door. I asked where he was going. “To bathe the dogs,” was his reply. Did he say to “bathe the dogs”? Do dogs get bathed? Doesn’t rainfall take care of that need? A few minutes later I saw Jake and Millie sunning themselves. They looked like shabby, mangy mutts that had accidentally stuck their paws in an electrical outlet. Oh well, at least we know that now they are clean Millie won’t return to her favorite resting spot in the dirt beneath the trampoline, and Jake won’t shed any more. Did I mention they have begun to shed hair again? Good grief.
Humor helps. Definitions. Coffee: the person upon whom one coughs. Flabbergasted: appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained. Intaxication: euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with. Unanswerable: if Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a song about him?
Yesterday afternoon Caleb started out the back door. I asked where he was going. “To bathe the dogs,” was his reply. Did he say to “bathe the dogs”? Do dogs get bathed? Doesn’t rainfall take care of that need? A few minutes later I saw Jake and Millie sunning themselves. They looked like shabby, mangy mutts that had accidentally stuck their paws in an electrical outlet. Oh well, at least we know that now they are clean Millie won’t return to her favorite resting spot in the dirt beneath the trampoline, and Jake won’t shed any more. Did I mention they have begun to shed hair again? Good grief.
Humor helps. Definitions. Coffee: the person upon whom one coughs. Flabbergasted: appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained. Intaxication: euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with. Unanswerable: if Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a song about him?
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Ben-Hur
I’ve been working on Ben-Hur this morning. Ben What!?! That’s right. Ben-Hur. As part of our Easter preaching emphasis, I’m going to focus on who Jesus is. To complement this theme, Second Act will present the stage version of General Lew Wallace’s famous novel, Ben-Hur, on Sunday night April 26. The story fictionally chronicles Wallace’s personal pilgrimage in his efforts to understand Jesus.
I try not to write about news items, but a Fox News article caught my eye. It listed the ten worst inventions of the past century. Three especially fascinated me.
One was the detachable dog sack. It would keep dog hairs out of my car by letting Jake and Millie ride outside it in a pouch attached with rubber-padded hooks to the open window of my vehicle. Wow. I wonder why that idea never went over well.
A second idea of idiocy was the cat wig. That’s right. A wig for felines. I saw a picture of a cat wearing one. It’s one of the ugliest sights I’ve ever seen.
Number three was my favorite. An anti-eating face mask, a metal cage that attaches to the face to keep those of us lacking self-control from eating solid food.
I try not to write about news items, but a Fox News article caught my eye. It listed the ten worst inventions of the past century. Three especially fascinated me.
One was the detachable dog sack. It would keep dog hairs out of my car by letting Jake and Millie ride outside it in a pouch attached with rubber-padded hooks to the open window of my vehicle. Wow. I wonder why that idea never went over well.
A second idea of idiocy was the cat wig. That’s right. A wig for felines. I saw a picture of a cat wearing one. It’s one of the ugliest sights I’ve ever seen.
Number three was my favorite. An anti-eating face mask, a metal cage that attaches to the face to keep those of us lacking self-control from eating solid food.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Quasquicentennial
All three grandsons were at the house overnight Monday. We slept well, but all of us woke up wired and alive before 7 a.m. Tuesday morning. We had already had a wild and crazy day before we ever left the house. What a hootenanny. (There’s a word no one uses any more. Try looking it up. Hint: Google is your best bet.)
I just arrived in the office after having my six-month stress echo running on the treadmill test. I did way better than does the average person my age, including both heart patients and non-heart patients. Hurray for me.
Quasquicentennial. I’ve not yet found anyone who has ever heard the term before. I love to pull stuff like this on people. I have done more research on the derivation of the term. Quasqui is Latin for one and a fourth. Thus, if it precedes centennial, it refers to the number 125. Mathematicians, wordsmiths, lexiconographers (Google it), and linguists love this type of info. Someone suggested we put the word on our church sign for people to ponder as they drive by.
Humor helps. A letter to the bank. Dear Sirs, one of my checks was returned marked “insufficient funds.” In view of current developments in the banking industry, does that refer to me or to you?
I just arrived in the office after having my six-month stress echo running on the treadmill test. I did way better than does the average person my age, including both heart patients and non-heart patients. Hurray for me.
Quasquicentennial. I’ve not yet found anyone who has ever heard the term before. I love to pull stuff like this on people. I have done more research on the derivation of the term. Quasqui is Latin for one and a fourth. Thus, if it precedes centennial, it refers to the number 125. Mathematicians, wordsmiths, lexiconographers (Google it), and linguists love this type of info. Someone suggested we put the word on our church sign for people to ponder as they drive by.
Humor helps. A letter to the bank. Dear Sirs, one of my checks was returned marked “insufficient funds.” In view of current developments in the banking industry, does that refer to me or to you?
Monday, March 16, 2009
3:16
March 16, three sixteen, reminds me of my favorite Bible verse, John 3:16.
We baptized about 25 yesterday, including 20 at our children’s baptism service last night. The watering trough we use to baptize in this service sprang a leak last night. Fortunately, duct tape, towels, and a trash can saved the day. Methodists don’t have these kinds of troubles.
Quasquicentennial. That’s the word I’ve been looking for. This month Second turned 124 years old. Next March marks year 125. I knew there had to be an official name for this particular anniversary. I brought the subject up last night at Peking House. Within 60 seconds, Greg House had found it on our ever-present, albeit not always accurate, friend Wikipedia. He typed in the word “anniversary” and voila! there it was. Quasquicentennial is an impressive word, don’t you think? It sounds like squash, and reminds me of Sasquatch. I can’t find it in my Webster Dictionary, but I’m pressing ahead with faith in Wikipedia on this one.
I offered the dedicatory prayer at our Victory Garden Saturday. This was not the first time I had prayed over dirt, but it was the first time I had ever prayed over that black stuff they had covered the field with, if you know what I mean.
We baptized about 25 yesterday, including 20 at our children’s baptism service last night. The watering trough we use to baptize in this service sprang a leak last night. Fortunately, duct tape, towels, and a trash can saved the day. Methodists don’t have these kinds of troubles.
Quasquicentennial. That’s the word I’ve been looking for. This month Second turned 124 years old. Next March marks year 125. I knew there had to be an official name for this particular anniversary. I brought the subject up last night at Peking House. Within 60 seconds, Greg House had found it on our ever-present, albeit not always accurate, friend Wikipedia. He typed in the word “anniversary” and voila! there it was. Quasquicentennial is an impressive word, don’t you think? It sounds like squash, and reminds me of Sasquatch. I can’t find it in my Webster Dictionary, but I’m pressing ahead with faith in Wikipedia on this one.
I offered the dedicatory prayer at our Victory Garden Saturday. This was not the first time I had prayed over dirt, but it was the first time I had ever prayed over that black stuff they had covered the field with, if you know what I mean.
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