No Country for Old Men

Allow me to share a few photos from Roxy's Big Adventure. On Saturday, October 4, my partner Matt Dickson and I set out for Wetumpka to compete in the Coosa River Challenge VI. There are actually a few crazy people who have done this SIX times. It was a first for Matt and me. We took it seriously by training for about 3 weeks. Three years would have been about right. I will not take time to list all the challenges but the main ones were a 4 mile trail run on a hilly, rocky woods trail followed by an 8 mile mountain bike ride over similar trails. Don't read quickly over the word "hilly". It makes a difference. Then we ran a little over a mile where we traversed a "boulder" field course. After that we drew a chip to determine which team member would rappel (Matt) and which would swim back upriver to where the boats were stored (Roxy). We both would have preferred switching roles but were not given an option. Then we paddled a two person sit-on-top kayak 7 miles to Wetumpka. Along the way we had challenges-I mean besides turning over at every set of rapids and bouncing off rocks like a pinball. FYI, rocks under water are not any softer than rocks out of water. You can get hurt doing this.

One challenge was to find "Dead Beaver Island" and beach the boat at the right spot. We climbed an embankment using a rope while carrying our paddles. The paddles went everywhere we went. We ran down a trail that led to the "mud pit" . This was a pit about 12 feet long with two 50 gallon plastic barrels side by side and about 4 feet down were two more. They were submerged except for about two inches in chocolate, muddy water. We had to swim through these barrels and exit the other side. Then we followed a trail that led down an embankment to a stream. It took a while to figure out where to go from here. We had to walk down the stream to where some markers indicated a trail going back over the island to our boats. More paddling, more spills, more rocks.
On river left is Corn Creek Park where the next challenge is. Look, there is LaWanna waving. Hey, LaWanna! Shoot, we turned over again. Now we are being carried by the current past where we are supposed to go. After righting the boat, climbing on and gathering paddles we had to circle a grassy island and paddle upstream to the landing. More rope climbing with a paddle in one hand. More running (really mostly walking now). This is called "Back to school island" by the wicked, wicked race director. As we ran around a winding woods trail we came to tables where we had to solve puzzles, spell words with cards, and draw on a magna-doodle. These things any first grader can do, begin to be a challenge after three hours of exhaustion. More running. We come out of the woods at the sheriff's shooting range where I shoot a small bow and arrow to determine how many division problems Matt has to solve. More running. Back in the boat. More paddling. Past the Hwy. 14 bridge. Past the Bibb Graves bridge. We paddle to the locks and beach the boat. Now it is time to swim against the current with the paddle to the steps of the lock. Climb the steps. This sounds simple. Try to picture that for over 5 hours now you have been running, peddling, paddling, and bouncing off rocks. Muscles are pulled, bruises are everywhere, and that big toe may be broken. Now you have had to swim against a strong current AGAIN, pushing a double blade paddle. And guess what? The steps are one foot high. Doesn't seem like much, I know. But go to your front porch and measure your steps. About half, huh? Hey, I stumped my toe on a three inch rock 5 hours ago! You think I can lift my feet one foot now? At this point, the paddle has become a walking cane. On top of the lock you look down on the river about 1000 feet below. O.K., it is only about 16 feet. But it seems like more. Toss your paddle and don't think about it--just jump. Resurface about 7 minutes later and swim back to the boat--paddle in hand. Board the boat paddle across the river, dismount and run a short distance to the Red Bull arch. That's it. Piece of cake. That is the story--at least the highlights. Here are a few pictures of the sequence;

Here we are at the MANDATORY 7:30 a.m. meeting where we were told the same things that we heard Friday night at 9 p.m. Note to race director; this is 2008, e-mail the rules and requirements or post them on the website. Receiving instructions should not become part of the endurance test. It was fairly cool when this meeting started. It was very warm when the race started.

But everybody waited and listened patiently and politely.

Because we all understood that this is a dangerous sport and should be taken very seriously.

Well, maybe some were less serious than others?


The bikes were transported to Swayback Bridge Trail head via U-Haul trucks. The participants were transported by school buses.

Once there, we had to find our bike. "I am sorry sir, that $4000 Felt bike is mine, yours is this $200 Wal-mart special."

I was told to "be careful" so here I am signaling a left turn into the transition area after finishing the 8 mile mountain bike leg. Actually, I was waving to one of my many fans.

This is the transition from the bike to the second run which took us to the "rock jungle"--a marked course over large boulders that was a sort of rock-climbing-at-a-jog. At the end of that we waded through part of the river and headed to the rappel. Matt drew the chip for rappelling and I had to swim back upriver to get our boat and paddles, then paddle back to pick him up. We both wanted it to go the other way on the draw, but you take what you get. The lady was not interested in "best of three".


We took the time to refill our hydration packs before hitting the river. This picture is probably too small to see the blood on my left leg from the bike crash. Just let me say men are much more polite competitors than women.

The hippies did well. And had more fun than anybody else.

Here we are approaching the sheriff's shooting range where I shot archery to determine how many division problems Matt had to solve. Thankfully, his math is better than my shooting. Yes, he really is that much taller than me. Yes, we had to carry our paddles everywhere. Yes, that makes it difficult to pull yourself up on a rope.

Later that same day;

Yes, we did finish thank you. Yes, it was still Saturday. Yes, it was still daylight. That is Matt's son Aiden next to the finish line. He announced that when he got home he was going to run a mile. No, he decided--he was going to run two miles. Matt told him he would have to get mom to run with him.

After the race, it was time to survey the damage.

Does this look right? I can't show all the injuries on the internet. This one occurred about 30 minutes into the race so the last 5 hours were after this "Coosa tatoo".

Here are two of my heroes; Donna Putnam and her daughter Leanne Armstrong (no relation to Lance). They made up team Put-Strong and had t-shirts with that team name. All the family that came to support and cheer for them had matching t-shirts. Although I teased them all day by calling them team "But-Strong", I am VERY proud of these two women for accomplishing what they did on this day. They set a goal nearly a year ago and worked hard to get to this Red Bull arch. Donna and Leanne placed themselves at the very back of the last wave to start the race and finished ahead of a couple of teams. They deserve a standing ovation.

This is another hero. I do not know them, although I see them eating in Wetumpka at times. I think it is a mother-daughter team. When they got to the last challenge-swimming to the locks and jumping off, the younger team member made it to the steps but mom just could not. She swam valiantly for minute after minute, at first seeming to swim in place as she battled the current and eventually sliding backward as she grew weak. I hurt for her so much as I watched her swim to the shore, fatigued and defeated. Her little girl shouted from the opposite shore "Go, mamma!" Mom walked up the shore to her original beginning point. She sat and rested a few minutes and tried it again. Again she battled the current. Don't give up we all were thinking. Somebody help her. The rescue boat had been called and was standing by. Come on guys, they are last--give her a lift to the steps. She could not do it. Her partner jumped and swam to the boat and paddled across the river with mom hanging on to the boat. It was all they could do to walk to the finish line. Bravo! I went to shake her hand. I am much more impressed by the courage of this lady than by the lean, young guy who finished in half the time. Actually, he is pretty impressive, too.

So it was over. But not really. The Coosa River Tatoos will be with us a while. I may not be able to do a sit-up for a few days. And besides my partner and my friends who raced and the 100 or so volunteers who made the race possible, there is one more person to thank. Her name is LaWanna and she is amazing. LaWanna got up early and put on her Roxy t-shirt. She was ready to leave at 6 a.m. and did not show any disappointment when I told her I was picking Matt up and he was riding with us. She took pictures which is why we have these to share. When the battery died on the digital she went to Wally world and bought a disposable. She made friends all along the route and wherever I arrived, people cheered for Roxy. Some I knew but many were people she had recruited to be my cheerleader. What other wife would do that? She was there until about 4:30 p.m. When I moaned and groaned, she never said "Why do you do this to yourself?" Do you know what she did? She massaged my back. And she is VERY good at massage. She has training and a portable table--give her a call. She may not do it for you but I can't tell you how thankful I am that she was that giving at the end of what was also a long day for her. Bravo. You are my hero also, humble servant. Bravo.

Oprah's Mom for Congress!

The following Associated Press story in indicative of the attitude many Americans seem to have adopted in the past few decades. I believe this attitude is why congress is debating a $700,000,000,000 bailout as you read this.




Winfrey's mom countersues store for its $156K bill
Tuesday, September 30, 2008 10:56 PM EDT The Associated Press

MILWAUKEE (AP) — Oprah Winfrey's mother says she shouldn't have to pay a nearly $156,000 debt to a high-end fashion store because store officials shouldn't have extended credit to her.
Valentina Inc. alleges that Vernita Lee of Milwaukee racked up $155,547 in purchases and interest as of July 1. The company sued, saying Lee fell behind in minimum monthly payments of $2,000.
Lee filed a counterclaim Friday contending that Valentina took advantage of her "lack of knowledge, ability, and-or capacity" when creating her credit account.
Court papers say Lee resolved a 2002 case with the company over a $175,000 bill. The resolution prohibited Valentina from extending further credit to her.
A message left for Valentina co-owner Tony Chirchirillo was not returned Tuesday.

Checking Account

Wow, I am really confused. All the news about the economy sure sounds bad but the proposed fixes sound even worse. Since I grew up on a red dirt road and never got a degree in macro- nor micro-economics, it is necessary to simplify the discussion for my understanding. I can't even picture how big a pile $700 Billion is. Isn't the largest bill printed these days the $100? If so, would the pile of money be as large as a living room? A house? A block? Montgomery? They are saying that it is not a bailout, but rather an investment. If that is so, do I get some kind of receipt? Do I own a couple of houses in Miami? Or 5% of 30 houses? Who is going to keep up with my return on investment? What if I decide not to invest in real estate or mortgages at this volatile time? Can I just withhold my taxes for a couple of years? What will the government do if I refuse to pay taxes? Put a lien on my house? So what? I am not going to be paying the mortgage anyway. Why should I struggle to make a mortgage AND pay taxes when the government is paying for much nicer houses than mine? In fact, I think I will just let the government buy my house as part of that $700 billion investment and pick out.....say a $800,000 house. Wouldn't my friends be more impressed if I were behind on a $800,000 mortgage than on a $36,000 mortgage?

This is not helping me understand at all. Can somebody explain why the CEO of a failed company that needs government help to remain solvent is given a multi-million dollar severance package? Is this the business world's version of paying farmers not to produce crops? Man, I wish I could bankrupt just one company and retire as a millionaire.

So what would happen if we looked at the government budget like you and I have to look at our checking account? You know, where you can only write checks for the amount you have in the account. What would happen if everybody actually had to pay for the items they purchased? What would happen if everybody knew that ahead of time--before signing for a mortgage beyond their means? On the other hand, what will happen if there is always a bailout and we know ahead of time that if we can't pay, that somebody else will?

And finally, how is it fair for me to have to pay more in taxes to service a debt created by elected officials in order to remove bad mortgages from the books of aggressive lenders? How is it fair that many live in much nicer houses and will be subsidized by my tax money when I have stayed in a modest house I could afford and get no help with my mortgage? How is that going to encourage financial wisdom and discipline in the future? Am I really the only one that is so confused?

Updates

First, let me get the eating of crow out of the way. The "blackout" by the Georgia Bulldogs last night turned into a "knockout" by Alabama. So any hope of a perfect season is out of the way and I don't feel compelled to watch all the games now. I am still a Bulldog fan and will still use that to aggravate Auburn and Alabama fans--but not so much the Bama fans this year.

Second, I apologize for the dearth of posts recently. I am in that part of the ongoing cycle where I have comitted to more than I have time to do. One of those activities is the Coosa River Challenge. It is a multi-discipline race involving trail running, mountain biking, kayaking, rapelling, street running, dirt road running, and some "special challenges" we will not learn of until the day of the race. It is a 4 to 6 hour race, so it is not something to decide the day before that you would like to give a try . I will not list my current responsibilities that compete with "training time" but as the October 4th date draws near, the realization of insufficient training is becoming a very concrete reality. On top of that, as I stretched in preparation for running the Swayback trail Thursday after work, I injured my back. Yes, it is ironic (but not funny) that after mountain biking and crashing and running over hills and rocks and roots that my first injury would come while preparing to run. A trip to my doctor Friday (first day I have called in sick in about 10 years) netted some strong muscle relaxers. Maybe I can get in two more workouts before race day and be well enough to keep moving Saturday. It is also ironic that the trail is named for Swayback Bridge over a section of Lake Jordon that is designed to have a shape very much like my new posture. Turns out, having a swayback does not make you faster on Swayback Bridge Trail. Here is a picture of the famous bridge;

Third, I want to tie my feelings as a college football fan to my thoughts about the Coosa River Challenge. I mentioned my disappointment over Georgia's loss and I do feel a little sense of personal loss, which is silly. I don't have any real relationship with the Georgia football team other than being from that state originally. In fact, after living the first third of my life (so far) in Georgia, I have lived twice as long now in Alabama. When I came here at the tender (and naive) age of 18 people tried to force me to choose between Auburn and Alabama. It seemed that a prerequisite for living in the state was declaration to one team or the other. When I mentioned being from Georgia someone said "So you are a bulldog fan?" Been one ever since. That is about as deep as it goes. However, I have discovered that fans relate very strongly to their chosen teams. If the team is a winner, it indicates that the individual is a winner. Just for having a bumper sticker or window flag. When the team looses, it is devastating for some. I find myself falling into this trap at times. I have sat and watched 18-22 year old kids make mistakes and been frustrated because they did not try harder. I would no doubt be much harder on the kids if that was all I did--sit and watch. Thankfully, I have had opportunities (even as an old guy) to participate in sports competition that motivates me to get out and work my body as it was created for. That competition also forces me to be aware of how difficult it is to keep going at times--when your mouth and throat are parched--when the breathing can't catch up--when you are so hot you think you might throw up--when muscles ache--and when you ask yourself "What difference does all this effort make?" When announcers mention that a linebacker is playing injured, it is just words until I compete while injured. The quarterback has had the flu? He should just suck it up--until I try to run while sick. The more I do myself, the more I appreciate what those players do. And the more I want to be a participant, not just a spectator.

Here is the link if you are interested in the race. http://coosariverchallenge.com/ Come out and play! And here is the quote from Helen Keller that is on the website; "Life is either a daring adventure or nothing."

LaWanna is going to serve as cheerleader and photographer so we should have some pictures in a week. Hopefully, there will be lots of smiles. Wanna said she plans to watch us come through the transition area twice and then go wait by the ambulance. People have different ideas of what a cheerleader does.

Any Given Saturday--or Thursday

Nana na na, nana na na, hey hey, goodby!

That is what the college football fans of the nation are singing to USC this morning. Well, except for the left coast. Yes, I have a prejudice against California. I would love to (and plan to) visit the state to enjoy the incredible natural beauty. It is just that many citizens of the state seem to take on an arrogance that insinuates "our state is superior to yours and since I was born/moved here, I must be superior to you". That would not be so bad if the rest of the country did not buy into it. If it is from Hollywood, the nation accepts that it must be glamorous. If it is from Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive it is elegant and trendsetting. What happens in California will happen in the rest of the country--later--when the simple folks catch up. One icon that represents that attitude, at least to me, is USC--the University of Spoiled Children. The amount of money, natural beauty, and glamorous image of the state enable the school to buy, I mean recruit many of the best players. Some of them (remember O.J. Simpson) never get over the better-than-everybody-else attitude. This assertion, and national acceptance, of superiority carried over into the college football rankings AGAIN this year as USC was ranked #1 in the nation and everybody assumed they would cruise unbeaten into the national championship.

Apparently, the folks from the less glamorous west coast state of Oregon did not get the memo. Last night Oregon State AGAIN beat USC. Yes, that is correct. Unranked Oregon State--not even considered the best college football team in tiny Oregon beat the team considered #1 by a score of 27-21. And that was no fluke. Oregon State actually led 21- 0 at halftime. While USC should drop far out of the top 10 and be out of the title hunt based on one loss and a very weak schedule, that will not happen. Most teams will have at least one loss and this one will be distant history by the end of the season.

For now though, the four SEC teams in the top 10 will gain more respect for having to play each other and will be MUCH better by the end of the season. That is why bowl season is so much fun.

So, games like Saturday's match-up between Alabama and Georgia (likely 2009 national champions) become much more important. And fun.

What's the Big Ruckus?

Do you know what the Big Ruckus is about? Somehow I almost missed it. Thankfully, I discovered it in beautiful downtown Wetumpka, Alabama. And I have pictures.





This is a Honda "Big Ruckus". It is a scooter that was made in Japan 2005-2007 and sold in the USA as 06-07 models. Surprisingly, they are not selling them now. Timing is critical and if they were widely available while the gas prices were over $4 per gallon everywhere, the near 80 mpg probably would have made them attractive to folks that don't normally crave a motorcycle.





In the above picture you can see the "Road Kill" vanity tag. I am not sure of the owner's intentions, but I would guess that it has to do with the fact that the scooter is so utilitaritian and unrefined (no plastic panels anywhere) that its ugliness becomes its cuteness.



Notice that the cool, wide backrest actually folds down to become the passenger seat. The bike has a 250 cc engine which is plenty big. My first motorcycle was a 160 cc and my second was a 250 cc. I rode both many, many miles and had lots of fun on them. The 1100 cc (like I have now), 1300, 1600, 1800 and larger are just overkill to appeal to the vanity of would-be easy riders. This little scooter is obviously not about showing off engine size and chrome--or great style for that matter. The downside is that it is heavy for a scooter and the ride is not as smooth as a larger bike. The price is almost as much as a regular cruiser bike. In fact, you can get a nice, well-equipped dual purpose bike for about the same price. Since its main appeal would be simple economy, the price probably prevented it from becoming a best-seller. I hope they come back, however. There is a place in our traffic future for this cool little scooter.

PASSION

Harley riders have PASSION! Good taste? Not so much. But lots of passion for motorcycles.

Anticipation

As Texas braces for hurricane Ike to come onshore tonight, the rest of the country braces for the effect it will have on gas prices. There hundreds of oil platforms in the gulf near the Texas shore and a large portion of the nations refineries are in Texas. Many of those have already shut down in preparation of the storm. Depending on the amount of damage from the hurricane, they could be shut down for days or weeks. What does that mean to you and me?





A funny caption for this picture might begin with "How many employees does it take to change the gas prices?" Three employees are changing the price to $3.99 per gallon at the Chevron on Hwy. 231 today. That is up nearly 50 cents in 2 days. In parts of South Carolina, the gas is already at $5.79 per gallon. The wholesale price has risen by $1 per gallon and most of that will likely be passed on to consumers. Much of that is logical and simply the result of supply and demand. Many will accuse stations of price gouging and perhaps rightly so in some cases. However, much of the problem is created by the masses. Every time this happens (and it is not unusual), pleas go out to conserve gasoline by curtailing trips and carpooling--at least for a few days until the storm passes and repairs are made. Every time the reaction is the same. Conservation and concern for community? Hardly. E-mails fire in every direction warning of sharp rises in gas prices and advising people to "fill up as soon as possible". Then everybody does. They fill up not just one vehicle, but as many as they own. There, that should take care of us for a few days, right? Nope, they come back with 5 gallon gas cans and fill them-4, 5, or 6 gas cans. Naturally, this depletes the reserves and stations begin to run out. If we could just learn to have a little patience and be a little less selfish, the result of the storm would not be nearly as severe.

Emotions--September 11

Tuesday night my partner, Donna, and I began our group counseling session with a guided imagery that we have done many times before. It is called "Self-identification". It is too involved to discuss completely here, but part of it guides the participants to realize that "you have a body, but you are not your body" and "you have a mind but you are not your mind" and "you have emotions but you are not your emotions". If we had an hour to talk, it would have much more meaning but you probably can see the direction. Many people define themselves by their bodies--either positively or negatively. Likewise, many rely on intellect and reasoning to portray to others who they are. And, you guessed it, emotions control the world of many as well. How we see and define ourselves largely dictates the choices and directions of our lives. There are many exceptions but the generality is that females lean toward and embrace emotions more and males value logic and rationality. I clearly fit the norm in this way, normally operating from a logical perspective and having great difficulty exhibiting patience with the highly emotional. There are times, though, when emotions drive my thoughts and actions. Today as I drove two hours each way to attend the funeral of a friend's father and listened to commentary on the 9/11/01 attacks, I cried some. Not for the recent death. The end of suffering from cancer was a relief to the deceased and all his family. Not for the loss of time when other, more fun things were planned. What better use of time than to hug a friend and say "I love you" when that is exactly what is needed? Some of the tears were for people who died on THAT day. It makes me very sad and very angry to think of the days, years, and dollars spent in planning to murder so many in order to be heard. This picture from my daughter, Laura's blog (http://www.lauragoins.blogspot.com/) at this time last year adds another deminsion to the emotions.

Laura is the one kneeling on the right with friends from the church youth group as they pose on top of the World Trade Center. No, this was not 9/10/01 or anything that dramatic--it was 5 years earlier. But it could have been THE day. Somebody was headed there THAT day. Thousands were. Thousands were there. Thousands died. So the possibilities and the realities bring the tears almost to the surface. Then I think about where we are now and all that has transpired since THE day seven years ago. I see that we are a nation given to group-think that reacts based on emotion more than reason. Some political operatives feed information and puppets who think they are "independent thinkers" make accusations that the president of the United States blew up the World Trade Center. What??? Rosie says fire can't melt steel. What??? We take actions to prevent these terrible things from ripping apart other families and those who proclaim tolerance as the holy grail are suddenly intolerant of law enforcement agencies sharing information and actions that require professional, career soldiers to actually fight. It is almost as if half the country does not believe that evil people really lived among us for years and learned from our flight schools how to fly our planes filled with our families into our buildings, killings passengers, building occupants, passersby, and brave public workers who attempted to save all they could. Go back and look at that picture again. The buildings really existed. They are not there now. This is not a movie. And as we stand just weeks from electing the next president of the USA, the general consensus--if you believe the print and televised media--is that the evil ones are George Bush, oil company executives, and Christian conservatives. Actually, it is the "Christian" part that causes so many to hate President Bush. Is he eloquent? No. Is he suave? No. But how could so many hate him for those things? That is not it. They hate him because he will not give a wink and a nod to whatever lifestyle you choose like the president before him and at least one candidate that hopes to follow him. I plan to share my thoughts about the election in a separate post so I will not go further about that now. Obviously, it concerns me that there is widespread resentment for using our national defense to keep the bully out of our backyard. If I were coming into your yard and harming your child--or even your DOG--you would not tolerate it. You would not hesitate to call the police and insist that actions be taken to prevent my return. The irony is that those who most oppose attacking those responsible (as best we can identify and find them) are bothered by Christians who shine a light on sinful lifestyles. These who oppose the actions that have been taken fail to realize that their actions are leading us toward becoming a Muslim country that would cause survivors to remember the good old days of tolerance.

Here's your sign

I discreetly took a picture of this sign a couple of days ago to share with you. I will probably pass on the "Spical Made Jewely" for $1. But I would pay $1 for this sign. We could show it to our friends in Mississippi to encourage them to upgrade their public education system and match the success of Alabama.

Stepping out with Fay

Before anyone gets upset, the title of this post does not indicate that LaWanna has to be worried about another woman. In fact, I am not that that fond of Fay. She has done some good, but for me personnally, has disrupted my plans. Fay is the tropical storm that was news before Gustav took aim on the Gulf Coast. First, Fay put a damper on the Vaughn Park Family Beach Trip last weekend. Second, on the same weekend the winds of Fay dropped a large oak limb on our cable line and on my truck. No internet-no phone-no television. Then, Fay took a turn and followed us on our weeklong backpacking trip in the north Georgia section of the Appalachian Trail. We managed to get started and over Blood Mountain on Monday before the rain started, which was a blessing. But before we stopped for the first night, the rains began. The next two days and nights about 10 to 12 inches of rain fell. That made it difficult to set out in the mornings and we left camp late both Tuesday and Wednesday. Tuesday was a 12 mile day so the late start and added weight and tricky footing caused by the rain combined to make a difficult day that brought casualties. My cousin, Gene, was experiencing leg cramps and having difficulty taking in nutrition so he needed to take a break at the only highway we crossed during the week. He and my brother Keith hitchhiked to Dahlonega and got a room and ate real food. Then they hired a shuttle to where a Forest Service road crosses the A.T. and got back on the trail. We met them that evening at the next shelter.

There were some adventures that you just can not anticipate. For instance, Wednesday night between midnight and 1 a.m., I heard voices and awoke to see my Keith out of his tent talking to a man in full camo, wearing a bullet-proof vest, night vision goggles, and carrying an automatic weapon. What? Turns out that the Army Rangers training in the area had stumbled into our camp and one of them literally stumbled over a log. Keith woke up during the commotion and then most of us did as well. The commander apologized for disturbing us and advised that there would soon be gunfire on top of Hawk Mountain. They did not get very far from our campsite before we heard the men getting yelled at. It is a funny feeling to realize that the objective that could easily have been achieved was to slip through without our knowledge. The should know that I sleep with my hickory walking stick nearby.

The last few days were clear and the views were beautiful after the rain moved out. Here are a few pictures to give you an idea of what it is like;

This picture is of Mark and me. I am thankful that he loves the outdoors and sees God's work in creation. I appreciate that Mark would take time from work and spend the week with his dad and other old guys hiking. It was hard for him to be gone from Lindsay a FULL WEEK especially since her birthday fell during the week.

This small bridge crossed a mountain stream. After several days of rain, the sunlight at the end of the bridge served as a great icon for the feelings we had. You know, "light at the end of the tunnel".

Many people have never experienced the Appalachian Trail or anything like it, so they ask what the trail is like. The section we hiked this year has a little stretch that is flat, wide and easy walking. Most of it, however, is something like this picture. Keith is making his way up another rocky section. The reason boots are important is that you step on and over thousands of rocks in a day's time. It seems that you are always going up a mountain or down a mountain. You would think those times would be about even, but somehow it seems more uphill to me.

Here Keith clowns at an interesting rock formation. A sense of humor is essential on a week-long hike.

I will close, appropriately enough, with a picture of sunset from Springer Mountain--the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. I hoped to add more pictures but Blogger is just taking too long to upload and I have walked away from this post every day for a week. Here it is finally. We had fun, soaked up (pun intended) lots of nature, and built relationships. Most of us boosted our physical limits some as well. I am about two days from walking normally again. Mark will take a little longer.

Tri, Tri, Again

Here it is blogger friends, family, and stalker-non-commenter-readers. Here is my take on the Georgia Veterans Park Triathlon experience. As the athletes (I like including myself in that title) gathered at the water's edge in the minutes before the start time, the race director gave instructions on how the swim would begin in waves. There would be a start at two minutes until eight for the one physically challenged athlete (he biked on a recumbant trike that was pedaled by hand and used a wheelchair in the run--I can't imagine how much courage it took for him to attempt the swim), then the first wave consisting of the youngest men. My friend, Josh, was in the first wave (age 27). My brother, Keith, and I were in the 3rd wave. Then there were two waves of women. Two funny things happened during this time. The second was that when the horn blew for the handicapped athlete to begin, two others took off with him. They did not seem to notice that nobody else was swimming. They were very, very fast. One of them completed the swim in 4:56. I was just reaching the first bouy in 4:56! I am not saying this guy could beat Michael Phelps but he might beat some of the olympic swimmers. Of course, he was already disqualified. I know it is backwards to give you the first funny thing second, but it leads into the rest of the story. The first funny thing was that after the race director gave instructions to all but two of the competitors (maybe the yellow rubber caps were too tight on their ears), he was filling time by being charming. "How many first-timers?" he asked. Lots of hands. "How many have been competing in triathlons more than 25 years?" Only a couple of hands--mostly, I think because the question caught them off guard and some were doing the math. I joked to my brother that we could raise our hands because we did a triathlon together at Oak Mountain in....well, I don't remember what year that was--but probably more than 25 years ago. So, we have not been continuously doing them 25 years, but more like once every 25 years. I decided that was how I would present a few pictures. The first hilarious picture is of me emerging from the water after a half-mile-swim-near-death experience at Oak Mountain state park enough years ago that I still had dark hair and beard. Same belly, shorter swimsuit. Back then, everybody went into a makeshift changing area made by putting up two-by-fours and nailing tarp to it to change clothes between race segments. Now folks come out of the water and jump into shoes already clipped to bike pedals and take off.

I have no idea who the old lady is that thinks it is sooo funny that I can not swim and the "rescue canoes" followed me to shore. Question; How WOULD they have pulled me into that canoe?

That picture is not funny enough for you? Well, the second one is as funny as it gets. Warning to my kids and brother--steal this photo and have fun with it at your own peril!

I would like to point out that I was being a good samaritan and picking up equipment left by others. That is what I would like, but the truth is I thought I was going to drown last year--really. So I called for a life preserver. This is the picture of a sad, defeated man.

But there was redemption (of sorts) this year.

The second old guy in this picture is me. I like this picture for several reasons. 1) I am not carrying a life preserver. 2) There are still people in the water (although they started much later than I did). 3) There is a man that started with me just right THERE--I could almost touch him.

After putting on a show for my many fans (hi, mom--hi, LaWanna--hi, Samantha and Josh's parents) it ocurred to me that the sensors that registered the signal from our anklet was just up the shore and if I ran through this shallow water ahead of that old guy, I would beat at least one person from my wave. See ya grandpa!

The triathlon was lots of fun. After finishing, I had the feelings I always have--elation from finishing, satisfaction of doing the best I could at the time, and frustration with not training more, harder, sooner. And so it goes. For one hour and 46 minutes I feel that I am doing all I can do and almost as soon as it is over, I am sure I could have done better. That is part of why I do these things. Also, the opportunity to be amazed at what young strong athletes can do and the thrill of seeing older--much older--athletes finish strong reaffirms that we were created to test our bodies and our bodies reward us for the effort.

I wonder if Michael Phelps will be available for swim lessons?

Socrates

By all means, marry. If you get a good wife, you'll become happy; if you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher.



Socrates (philosopher)

Just Imagine....

Take a look at these three kids. What do you think they might accomplish in life? Let me help you by pointing out that the two in blue are girls, not young Bee Gees. Focus, however on their little brother in the middle. Does he look familiar?

Maybe a later picture will help.

Yep, that tall, skinny kid with the dumbo ears and funny lisp is Michael Phelps. No, he did not BECOME Michael Phelps--he always was. With the right combination of genetics, a coach that believed he was special, a missing dad, and an encouraging mom he forged the determination and belief that led to massive training and astonishing results. It is fun to watch as his gold medals pile up and the world records tumble. He makes it seem effortless--and fun! In a few weeks he can retire as a very wealthy man. Most of us would love to trade places with him--now. I would love to be able to eat all that he eats and be that lean. But....I am not willing to swim 50 miles per week--fast--in order to arrive where he is. It takes work. More work than anybody else is willing to do. For a long time. With no guarantees.

But how inspiring is it to look at that normal, everyday kid and see what he has already accomplished. Just imagine what you and I might be able to accomplish with hard work and a little encouragement.

This sad note from today's headlines; Michael Phelps appeared to be headed for yet another gold medal and world record when his swim cap slipped up on one side. After his ear popped out, he swam in circles until everyone in the field had finished the race.

Couldn't resist.

Coosa River View

I found another way to photograph the Coosa River today. This is from a bluff looking south.

If you click on either picture and look along the shore on the right, you may be able to see a few cows that have made their way through the wooded area to drink at the edge of the river.

"And I say to myself, what a wonderful world."

Who is Number One?

These headlines are being reported today by the Associated Press;

"Georgia says Russian aircraft bombed its air bases"

Nice try, you dirty red communists. The Bulldogs are still ranked #1 in the nation!

GO DAWGS!!! And come quickly, fall.

Powerpoint Sermon

Nitrous Oxide

This car, spotted in Wetumpka, Alabama, screams on behalf of its owner "Yes, I can afford to equip my car with a Nitrous Oxide set-up in order to drive insanely fast. But I can only afford this 79 cent thumb latch to keep the door shut!"

Provide Your Own Caption!

Not What I Expected!

Well, here it is. Somehow, I expected it to be more....I don't know.... glitzy.

Game Face

It is time to put my game face on! The countdown has reached 12 days to the triathlon. Keith and Josh, I am coming for YOU!



Thanks to all who asked, but no, the race number is not my actual age.

Motorcycle Mama

I guess it is time for some "Blog-lite".

"Hey, that Harley dude has a pink helmet!"

Wait a minute--that dude is a....biker babe?

And somebody's arm in the truck window.

Disillusioned

Have you ever been disillusioned? Rhetorical question? Of course. We all have been disillusioned. There is a taste of it for me every day that I bike, swim, or run in an attempt to turn a 54 year old body into that of a triathlete. Should have thought of that on the third trip to the soft-serve ice cream machine at Jason's Deli. I go to the website for the race and look at last year's results. Look at the times for people in my age group! I know I can beat those times! And I envision it happening--me emerging from the water like James Bond with washboard abs, jumping on my aluminum steed to dash off, returning to dismount like Roy Rogers to continue in a full run to the finish line. Sure I can do that! Then I go out for a ride. Man, it's hot. And how can all the roads be uphill? Why won't this thing shift gears correctly? The runs are similar except my mind knows that my body once ran 10K's in sub-seven minute miles so something seems wrong now. But the biking and running are shining success stories compared to the swim training. Mostly I avoid the swimming because 1) I know I am not good at it and 2) I am afraid. There it is. I am afraid of the water. Yes, I have kayaked rivers and rafted mighty rivers. Yes, I have survived a few triathlons. Yes, I love to swim--if by that you mean splashing around in a pool with family and friends. But when I dive into my friend's pond to train for the race, I will have the same feelings I have at the lake during the race. Not so much a vision of James Bond finishing strong as of an old guy's body floating face down. I am not likely to drown because I am not likely to push myself anywhere near my physical potential in the water. I am, however, very likely to embarrass myself.

Here is why I bring it up; while reading Oswald Chambers' book "My Utmost for His Highest" this morning I found this thought "The refusal to be disillusioned is the cause of much of the suffering in human life." What? That seems backwards--so unamerican. On the surface, being disillusioned seems to be a bad thing. If you take the word literally, however, it means not believing an illusion (or delusion). Some of you read the first paragraph and immediately began thinking of things you could say to encourage a would-be athlete. And that is good as long as the TRUTH is told. We so often withhold the truth from people so they will feel better. In so doing, we perpetuate the illusion. They are not disillusioned...yet.

The reality is that it is fine if my muscles hurt, the equipment is less than perfect, even if I have fears. Reality is not James Bond or Roy Rogers or six-pack abs without sacrifice. Those are illusions. The sad thing is that so many have fairy tale illusions about sports, marriage, finances, and life and when reality differs, they just give up. I found a Flair button on Facebook that reads "You don't have to win, you just have to TRI!" At the top of the button is a swimmer, cyclist, and runner. I love that message. It is not an illusion. Some call those who just survive a triathlon rather than compete "Triathloids". That was me last year. This year I have made some effort, though not enough, to get better, stronger, faster. In my mind that makes me a triathlete. If facing the truth about my athletic possibilities enables me to overcome the illusions and succeed, maybe it is possible in other areas of life as well. What do you think?

Warming?

I heard another silly "global warming" report today and thought about how prone we all are to group think. Any idea, repeated often enough and long enough, begins to seem plausible. There is much, much of the world I have not seen. But spending just two weeks in Alaska gave me a perspective on the millions and millions of acres that are not inhabited because the environment is just too cold and harsh. We all know that these places exist, but there is just something about seeing with your own eyes that makes you realize how complex the environment is and how silly we are to think that we control the future of the universe. Here is one of the hundreds of pictures I took during that trip.

Kindness

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.


Plato

Is That a Camera in your Pocket?

People ask "Roxy, why do you always carry that digital camera everywhere you go?" Here is your answer;

You never know when you will be walking in Beautiful Downtown Wetumpka and happen upon a Russian-built motorcycle complete with side car and camo paint circa WWII. Does that seem unlikely? How about TWO Russian built motorcycles with side cars, one in a sporty red?

These are "Ural" motorcycles with a rich, colorful history. As the Russians prepared to defend themselves against Hitler and the invading Germans, they bought several BMW motorcycles in Sweden and took them to Russia. There they took them apart and "reverse engineered" by making dies from the engine parts and just copied the design and parts to replicate the BMW motorcycles.

The camo motorcycle in these pictures actually has "two-wheel drive". Both bikes are shaft drive and have a reverse. But the camo version has a shaft and gearing that allows the wheel outside the side car to pull also. That enables the bike to travel through snow and deep sand. These are used in remote parts of Russia and Ukraine as well as African nations where "road" is little more than a footpath.

Note that the camo bike has a map of the USA and the western and southern states colored as having been visited. The tag indicates that the owner is from Washington state. The red bike has an Alabama tag. I regret not taking the time to talk to the two riders about their adventures.

If you are interested, you can own one of these beauties for 12 to 14 thousand dollars. That may be a pretty good deal. You know what they say...."The Ultimate Driving Experience". Well, that is what they say about a BMW. Would that apply to a Russian copy of a BMW? How about "A Reasonable Facsimile of The Ultimate Driving Experience"?

Regarding the Clouds

The title of this post comes from Ecclesiastes 11:4 "He who observes the wind will not sow. And he who regards the clouds will not reap." That verse is marked in my Bible as is a couple below that. In the margin is written the Nike slogan "Just Do It". I marked it because my tendency is to "regard the clouds" and attempt to predict the weather. I am better at it than most, but still miss the prediction OFTEN. Today, however, I predicted it perfectly. When I called LaWanna after finishing work, I told her I was doing my "brick" workout and it would almost certainly rain before I finished.

The "brick" is a term for combining two types of training, in this case cycling followed by running, in preparation for my fast-approaching triathlon. The plan was to bike 13 miles and change shoes quickly to run 4 miles. As I prepared to head west, the dark, dark clouds were providing an easy excuse to avoid the torture to my quads. I decided to push on, knowing I would be rained on before finishing that distance. The rain is not a big problem but I made a mental note to be flexible with my plan in case of close lightening. There was VERY close lightening. The plan was altered to include a 9 mile bike ride and 2 mile run. It is a little disappointing to cut the plan short, but I feel good about getting that much done. The run was all in HEAVY rain. Here are some things I learned;

1. Lightening can make you bike faster than you thought you could.
2. Brake levers are slippery when wet.
3. The painted white line on the road is very slippery when wet.
4. Shoes and socks weigh several pounds more when wet.
5. There are still good people in the world (Thanks, sir, for offering the ride).
6. Sticking to a plan leading to a long-term goal is very difficult.
7. With a little judgement, rain will not hurt you.
8. Cell phones apparently are not waterproof.
9. Although it seemed hopeless a short time back, I am getting stronger.
10. It is o.k. to be different.

You know, if I learn to swim this thing may work out.

Family Emergency

I wonder......

Family Emergency= "Mamma, the repo man is here and he is taking all the Hooked on Phonics CD's!"

Sunflowers

Many educated and powerful individuals loudly proclaim that the universe and all it contains are the result of an accident and countless years of aimless evolution. I offer the following evidence to the contrary;

A Bicycle Built For.....

Most of my readers have already heard stories of my tendency to crash when I can't get the cycling shoes unclipped from the pedals. So, after a little research, I have found the solution. Here is a short video of a bicycle built for.....SEVEN!




Actually, while the maker calls it a "Conference Bike" he also refers to it as a tricycle. Some versions of the bike actually 4 wheels. So you could call it a weird car. And it needs that much road space. But still--wouldn't that be fun? I am going to suggest that our church purchase one of these and rotate it between small groups. Do we really need to sit in the den and eat cookies while we study the Bible? No, we could be burning calories instead! And this is better than traditional tandem bikes because you can see if somebody is not pedaling. Another great advantage; you can use the bike lane OR the High Occupancy Vehicle lane. I wonder if this would be legal in a triathlon?

When Snakes Talked and Ran

Have you ever thought about what snakes used to be like? It is obvious from the Genesis account of the Garden of Eden that they talked. Eve did not seem surprised when the serpent

spoke to her. And they were cunning--more than all other creatures. And apparently they walked and ran? Why else would God curse the serpent with crawling on his belly and eating dust? And the curse that affects me most today is "I will put enmity between you and the woman. And between your seed and her Seed: He shall bruise your head and you shall bruise His heel." Yes, I believe there is a reference to Jesus in that curse. But I am equally convinced that the natural hate I have for snakes comes from God. Really. I hate snakes. And I have bruised the heads of many. That is why I think this guy is an idiot!

Go back and read Genesis 3. Let's see, crawl on belly, bruise head, bruise heel....nope it's not in here. Nowhere does it say "Push a snake up your sinus cavity and allow him to come out your mouth." Idiot! If I walked by at this moment and could get my hands on a pair of hedge clippers...

CAPTCHA

The word of the day is "captcha". I learned it from the August, 2008 Reader's Digest. It is an acronym (sort of) for Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart. Alan Turing devised tests in the 1950's to tell machines from humans. This may seem technical and boring so far (and may continue to do so) but here is where it has meaning for you and me; This is the correct term for those hard-to-read word verifications many of you have on your blogs. It is designed as a hurdle to be cleared indicating that comments left were from humans and not computers generating "spam".

Thus far this has been factual information. For all you know, it may have been generated by a computer. Here is the human part. Some of us have trouble reading those swervy, faint, dot-matrix, non-sensical letters with lines through them. "Is that a "g" or a "q"? My new blogger friend, Kathryn, (http://fritterfarmers.blogspot.com/) has written a beautiful explanation of the struggles she has with dyslexia and the comments on her post verify how common degrees of this condition really are. In fact, she has created questions in my mind that may lead to answers for life-long questions about myself.

What does this have to do with you? We would respectfully request that you consider canning the CAPTCHA. Not only are you keeping out the occasional spam, you make commenter's reluctant to go to the trouble. If it kicks back twice on me, I figure what I had to say is not really that important. "But," you say, "what if the spammers get through?" So what? If you occasionally get "I like your blog. Please visit my site and buy vitamins that make your nose smaller", just delete it. Or leave it. I have gotten less than half a dozen in all the time I have been blogging. Sometimes they are on old posts, but I get a notification via e-mail and just go delete it. It is so rare I have to stop and think through the process each time (may be dyslexia). The result; the author of the blog does a little extra work to eradicate spammers, rather than requiring extra work by the commenter's.

Know that Feeling?

I enjoy blogging. It is a great release and I wish I could devote more time to it. Sometimes I capture a great picture and want to share it. Sometimes the desire is to share an original thought. Today I hope to share a feeling. This feeling is a flashback that hit me when I read Judy's post (http://brettandjudy.blogspot.com/) about her trip to Honduras and the visit to the city dump there. Judy's story reminded me of feelings that hit me at the end of my first backpacking adventure on the Appalachian Trail.

I had talked Joe McClary and Jim Naylor into joining my brother, his son, and me as we attempted to hike the Georgia section of the Appalachian Trail in a week. We were all novice backpackers and did not know if we were capable of the goal we had set. This story would take you two hours to read if I tried to tell every challenge and the accompanying fears and feelings. But a couple of highlights are needed to help you "feel" the experience a little.

One vivid memory was the night before we were to hit the trail. We had rented a cabin for the night and arrived there about the time we should be getting to sleep. Unfortunately, we were undecided about SO many things that we had the contents of 5 backpacks scattered over the living room floor until after midnight as we discarded many pounds of food, rope, and assorted items you might take camping but not want to carry in a pack for 80 miles. The uncertainty about equipment, fitness, safety skills, and sanity was greatly amplified by the raging thunderstorm battering the cabin. The lightning and thunder were jarring and reminded us that there were MANY things we had not considered.

Skipping details, we got started close to the appointed time and it was HARD. It seemed that we were always going straight up. It was particularly difficult for my nephew, Russ, who had been sick in the days before the hike and was very young for a strenuous hike. The first day we did not make it as far as we had planned and were exhausted. The next morning sore muscles were abundant. By mid-morning the thought was gnawing at me that we could not make the destination at the pace we were going. A decision had to be made and I was in the middle of it. See the goal of hiking the Georgia section of the A.T. was my brother's dream and I was there because it was something he wanted to accomplish. But I had invited the two friends from Montgomery and felt a responsibility to them as well. I got my brother to drop behind the others a little and we talked. It was a heart-wrenching talk for me. We decided that he and his son would cut their hike short and hike to the nearest road and hitch a ride to attempt to catch up with their van (another long story). My two friends and I left my brother and his son on a trail in the middle of the woods to find their way back to a vehicle that was in transit to where we were supposed to be in a week. I cried. As I walked, I cried several times. Was I doing the right thing?

Again, I have to skip thousands of details involving rain, bears, trail side surgery on Jim's big toe, and body odor. We did see Keith and Russ about mid-way and were greatly relieved to find that they got to the van with relative ease and enjoyed the relaxed pace after we parted. We left them, however, in heavy rain. We hiked--it rained. We hiked--it rained. We had more difficult decisions in the remaining days. We got tired and wet and began to be very direct and honest with each other. There is a sermon there, but I press on.

Eventually, we realized we were getting better at climbing mountains and had made up lost time and that we were going to make it. When we arrived at the top of Springer Mountain, the southern terminus of the A.T., there were many emotions. We had made it! We had endured a lot and accomplished what we set out to do. But my brother whose dream it was to make this hike was not there to enjoy it. And I cried again. Here is the problem; after you hike so far and endure the struggle and rain and body odor and reach this milestone--you are still about 8 miles from Amicalola Falls where the vehicle is located. That means more than half a day of hiking remains. But here is where the feelings begin that all this post is about. As you near the state park, you are not hiking on a trail in the woods anymore. Now you are hiking on a gravel jeep trail in the open Sun with no canopy. It feels so different to be out of the deep woods. But that is not the shocking part. The shock comes from the people. You begin to meet people walking from the lower parking lot in the park to the upper section of the falls. The hike for them is a little over a mile-uphill--and most of them have not walked a mile in....well ever. So there you are--sweaty, dirty, stinky, and feeling like a mountain man in touch with creation and the Creator. And there they are--a steady stream of fat, spoiled, complaining people who can't believe they are walking A MILE! And at that moment, after the week's experience, you see these people in a completely different light. I could not believe how bright and noticeable they all are. Probably 80% of them are wearing a bright shirt with something written on it, screaming their message to all within sight. The feelings surprised me. I first felt that these people did not belong here--didn't deserve to be here. How could somebody who woke up this morning, turned on lights and a TV before taking a hot shower have anything to complain about? How can you walk ONE MILE with no pack and think that is difficult? Could you please turn down the brightness on that novelty shirt and plaid shorts? Can't you see that WE have done so much more than you? Still we hike on and met the steady stream of clean, perfumed folks. Until it hit me. One week ago that was me. I have lots of those shirts (not the plaid shorts, though). I like to point how difficult my journey is. I forget to count my blessings and say thank you.

Over a short period of time, I became one of THOSE people again. Only not completely. That experience and those feelings are part of me now. And that is part of why I put a week's groceries, my house, bed, and stove in a pack and drag it up a mountain over and over--day after day. Because it makes it a blessing to pay a water bill, an electric bill, and a gas bill. You know what? Four dollars per gallon? Have you ever spent a month without an automobile? A week? A day? Thank you, God, that there is a station on many corners where for only $4 I can buy enough gasoline to take me 20 or 30 miles in a half hour. Otherwise that would take me a couple of days and I would not smell nice when I arrived.

I Like Barack

I really do. B.O. is a cool guy and would be great to have over for a cookout. He looks you in the eye and tilts his head slightly to indicate that he is not only listening but also really cares about your opinion. He is intelligent, articulate, and laughs easily. I could hang with him. It is easy to envision Barack and me exchanging playful banter, showing off and testing which of us has the quicker wit. He seems like an easy choice for president. His state of the union speeches would sound sincere and be sprinkled with humor to prevent fatal dryness. There is just something I can't quite get past though. It was illustrated at a fundraiser where Bernie Mac "warmed" the crowd with his foul language and crude jokes. A few minutes after Bernie's comedy routine, Barack attempted to smooth the overall impression on the donors ($2300 apiece). Here is a quote;

"We can't afford to be divided by race. We can't afford to be divided by region or by class and we can't afford to be divided by gender, which by the way, that means, Bernie, you've got to clean up your act next time," Obama said. "This is a family affair. By the way, I'm just messing with you, man."

Is he smooth or what? Do you see it? He states the principle we all have to agree on; we can not afford to be divided. Then he appeases those in the audience with enough intelligence to realize the conflicting messages by castigating Bernie Mac in public. Good so far. But what comes next? "I'm just messing with you, man."

What? You are going to appease my sense of morality by upbraiding the crude comic and think I don't hear or understand the following disclaimer for the boys in the hood? Is this what you mean when you say you will "talk" to renegade regimes in countries that desire to destroy the United States? "Hey, you guys have to stop building nuclear weapons and long range missles or we will come over here and stop it for you. Awww, I'm just messing with you, man."

And they all lived happily ever after.

Then I Think to Myself....

.....what a beautiful world.

I planned to share 6 or 8 pictures of interesting things I saw today but the upload time to blogger is killing my bedtime. Here are two;

How I Roll

Well, here I am--FINALLY showing off my keys next to the sleek, black Dodge Viper. This is one cool car. Heads really turn when it passes by. How does it look?

Of course, the keys are to my Toyota truck and I have no idea whose Viper this is. But I had a pleasant conversation with the nice lady I stopped to take my pic next to the sexy car.

Jesse Jackson

"Did I say that out loud?"

Memo to Jesse and other politicians; if you just tell the truth, you do not have to worry about whether the microphone is on or not.


Has anyone else noticed what a legalistic society we have become?
"You can't count that because it was a private conversation, not part of a speech!"
People's real motives are apparent if you look carefully enough. We had better look carefully between now and November.

Relieved

Whew! One more day. For the past two days, there has been a deluge of news reports about the suggestion of providing cholesterol medicine to overweight kids. Almost every report is accompanied by footage of fat kids walking around and fat adults in various locations with their heads just out of the frame. So far, I have not been spotted.

July 4--How Was Yours?

What did you do over the July 4th weekend? Cook out? Go to the lake? Yard work? How about you, Kent Couch? You went flying? In a what?

It seems that Kent had a few friends meet him at his Stop and Go Mini Mart in Bend Oregon to help him fill some party balloons with helium and attach them to a lawn chair. Kent lifted off early this morning (7/5) and flew about 9 hours, covering more than 200 miles to land in Idaho. Kent is not the first and will not be the last to try cluster balloon flight. And this is not his first flight. Now, I do not recommend cluster balloons as a means to travel and I could not justify the $6000 for balloons, helium, and other gear (parachute, BB gun, 15-gallon containers of Koolaid for ballast). However, I have to admire the courage and ingenuity of a guy that goes into the back yard and builds an apparatus to soar through the sky unaided.

I wonder if he wore a seat-belt? I wonder how that would work in the southeast where there is always a 20% chance of afternoon thunderstorms? I wonder if his wife bought a new pair of shoes today?