Today, in a period of 4 minutes (yes, I timed it) I just saw a lady walking down the street in a "moo-moo of many colors" dress topped off with a fire engine red hat, followed by a guy pulling a dolly with an old school blue recliner chair strapped on to it with duct tape, followed by shirtless dude pounding a slurpee, smoking a cigarette and looking like he had just escaped daycare. More odd the funny I admit. The thing is I don't toss out laughs that easily. I did when my bro-in-law Paul proudly labeled me with the title "Pasturd" cause "pastor just didn't do me justice." That was funny.
This girl makes me laugh regularly. And not just because she posts pictures of large sausages.
She is a missionary in Costa Rica and drops it like it's hot. I have no clue either...
Enjoy
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
I sort of tan-ish
I have always been a bit of a renegade when it comes to reading. Reads like I am trying to sound cool doesn't it? But hey, let's get serious, when you are epitome of cool you don't worry about that stuff you just know. That being said I have never tanned well at all... "Whitelegslani" has been a tag that has followed me for years. My wife has sent me to a tanning salon, nothing. They called it "reverse bronzing" - I came out whiter. Kid you not. I was like the Star of David walking out of that joint. Carla then tried that tanning cream stuff. She even bought the "good" kind. The result was a skin tone that resembled off-orange mixed with prune juice. That is just not a handsome color. Not even close. It gets a lot of stares mind you. Might have seen a couple people throwing up. Combine that with a hairy back and coolness just spews from you. It's a gift.
I would call myself a book renegade cause I am willing to try any book. Yep I do read some of the latest and greatest. But typically I find my most profound moments outside of that arena. Here are a few:
Between the Dreaming and the Coming True - Robert Benson
Blogged about this puppy...
I Became a Chrisitan and all I got was the Lousy T-shirt - Vince Antonucci
The Brand Gap - Marty Neumeier
Walking on Water - Madeleine L'Engle
It's Your Ship - Captian D Michael Abrashoff
How to Break Into Pro Wrestling - Gene Lebell
Sometimes it's a book which captures my imagination for the space I am in. My latest spacial moments have been in the area of Faith. Who and what do I trust?
"One of the moral diseases we communicate to one another in society comes from huddling together in the pale light of an insufficient answer to a question we are afraid to ask." Thanks for that Thomas Merton.
I don't consider myself to be a rock star of any sort, well okay, sometimes I do. But that's usually when some cyclist blinded by the sun reflecting off of my legs, goes careening of the road into a group of small children. There were only 2 broken arms and a minor severing of a leg, but generally not that serious.
It's just that I don't want to be one of those guys who is satisfied with surviving. Or like somehow I have arrived. I don't care if you have been a pastor for 20 years or you were the starting QB in 1987 or your golf handicap is single digits or you were Tupperware Seller of the Decade or you lost 30 pounds or miraculously God somehow chose not to give you a hairy back. Get a grip. Humans cannot remain stagnant. We can convince ourselves that we are but it ain't reality. You and I are always moving. Closer to God or farther away. The Spirit is in constant movement contricted by neither time nor space toward God. Creating, changing, growing, inspiring, providing, giving, seeing... As soon as we stop moving forward.. well...
I bought Carla a book for her birthday. It was one that caught my eye. And one of those renegade moments of decision. It spoke to the moment I/We are in. Faith. It's called "Big God" by Britt Merrick. Just started it and pretty intrigued.
We are gonna take turns reading a chapter and talking about it. Why don't you join us? Maybe it's time for a little digital kick in the pants.
Check it out.
Big God Book - Britt Merrick
Here is the website dedicated to his daughter Daisy's battle with cancer.
I would call myself a book renegade cause I am willing to try any book. Yep I do read some of the latest and greatest. But typically I find my most profound moments outside of that arena. Here are a few:
Between the Dreaming and the Coming True - Robert Benson
Blogged about this puppy...
I Became a Chrisitan and all I got was the Lousy T-shirt - Vince Antonucci
The Brand Gap - Marty Neumeier
Walking on Water - Madeleine L'Engle
It's Your Ship - Captian D Michael Abrashoff
How to Break Into Pro Wrestling - Gene Lebell
Sometimes it's a book which captures my imagination for the space I am in. My latest spacial moments have been in the area of Faith. Who and what do I trust?
"One of the moral diseases we communicate to one another in society comes from huddling together in the pale light of an insufficient answer to a question we are afraid to ask." Thanks for that Thomas Merton.
I don't consider myself to be a rock star of any sort, well okay, sometimes I do. But that's usually when some cyclist blinded by the sun reflecting off of my legs, goes careening of the road into a group of small children. There were only 2 broken arms and a minor severing of a leg, but generally not that serious.
It's just that I don't want to be one of those guys who is satisfied with surviving. Or like somehow I have arrived. I don't care if you have been a pastor for 20 years or you were the starting QB in 1987 or your golf handicap is single digits or you were Tupperware Seller of the Decade or you lost 30 pounds or miraculously God somehow chose not to give you a hairy back. Get a grip. Humans cannot remain stagnant. We can convince ourselves that we are but it ain't reality. You and I are always moving. Closer to God or farther away. The Spirit is in constant movement contricted by neither time nor space toward God. Creating, changing, growing, inspiring, providing, giving, seeing... As soon as we stop moving forward.. well...
I bought Carla a book for her birthday. It was one that caught my eye. And one of those renegade moments of decision. It spoke to the moment I/We are in. Faith. It's called "Big God" by Britt Merrick. Just started it and pretty intrigued.
We are gonna take turns reading a chapter and talking about it. Why don't you join us? Maybe it's time for a little digital kick in the pants.
Check it out.
Big God Book - Britt Merrick
Here is the website dedicated to his daughter Daisy's battle with cancer.
Friday, July 23, 2010
VHF - Harvard Sailing Team
Harvard Sailing Team has been around for awhile. They are a sketch comedy group and typically knock it out o' the proverbial park. Check out one of their offerings - Boys will be Girls - Night Out... beautiful.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
I do not want to hear it.
I am not a big fan of loud eaters. Okay, they drive me nuts. Nothing drives me crazier than loud found inhaling. Seriously, give me poopy diapers, jello vomit, canker sores or grandma with a bad limp crossing the street, no problem. But crunching or chomping or teeth clicking or mouth open gag inducing slurping, I go nutbar. Terets. My leg starts twitching uncontrollably, I start sweating in odd places it's not pretty. Never mind that I start to gag. Hey, i'll take sitting in a dentist chair anyday - just keep your mouth shut when downing your bag of cheezies and stop licking your fingers. Yes, that bugs me too.
Here's the deal. Anything associated with grotesque eating habits is banned in my house. Lip smacking, aggressive spoon movement, continuous tongue licking... banned. My kids are not allowed to chew within 3 feet of my ears. Zingers go flying down my spine when I hear the slightlest slurp. You know those kind you get in your nether regions when you are on a roller coaster or when Tim McGraw looked your way at a concert and like totally stared at you (Shauna). It's like ants have made a nest just below my skin. I just got shivers thinking about it. There is no room for end of the beverage bottom of the cup loud straw suckage. Banned. If I had the opportunity to eat meals in a sound proof bubble I would seriously consider it.
I kid you not, if I sit beside one more dude reading his farmers almanac with BO and slurping his hot coffee, I am going to lose it. Like really, who wants to endure that? If I were to be honest I sometimes pray that they will find a huge hair in their coffee. Like huge and crusty. I do. I know it's horrible but I do. I am sorry but it helps.
Last night Carla and I had a hot date at the movie theatre. The A-Team. It was all we expected to be. Little cheesy, little over the top, little "back in the day". Beautiful. So we sit down and are THE ONLY ONES IN THE THEATRE. It was cheap night to boot, needless to say we were a little stunned. So we totally starting making out. Okay like that would ever happen. PDA (Public Displays of Affection) - above temporary hand holding - and Carla are about as synonymous as hot dogs and meat. Eventually about 20 other people come into the theatre. 2 who sit like 3 chairs away from us. I don't know... 27 other rows that were completely empty, but no, you have to sit close to us because you will never have any clue about social graces will you. And of course, movie starts, dude pulls out the bag of popcorn and starts incrementally eating one piece of popcorn at a time. I kid you not, one piece at a time.... mouth open. I start to weep. Carla cannot contain herself anymore and bursts out laughing.
My leg starts twitching like a rabbit in heat.
Moustache boy continues this display for 20 minutes. I am in stunned silence. He then takes his popcorn bag of horror and starts shaking it like crazy. I have no clue but let me tell you he did not need anymore salt to lick off his individual pieces of popped corn terror. Freddy Krueger proceeds to re-engage his eating insanity until every single kernel has been inhaled. By this time I have lost all control and am lying in the fetal postion on the floor buck naked with napkins hammered into my ears. Carla gives me a boot to let me know that my nightmare has ended and just as I drop into my seat, death eater claps his hands together repeatedly to shake off the oozing butter and salt which have formed a brown paste on his fingertips ending his diatribe with the shirt flick and napkin brush. I was officially incapacitated.
I am in the process of inventing intravenous everything.
Here's the deal. Anything associated with grotesque eating habits is banned in my house. Lip smacking, aggressive spoon movement, continuous tongue licking... banned. My kids are not allowed to chew within 3 feet of my ears. Zingers go flying down my spine when I hear the slightlest slurp. You know those kind you get in your nether regions when you are on a roller coaster or when Tim McGraw looked your way at a concert and like totally stared at you (Shauna). It's like ants have made a nest just below my skin. I just got shivers thinking about it. There is no room for end of the beverage bottom of the cup loud straw suckage. Banned. If I had the opportunity to eat meals in a sound proof bubble I would seriously consider it.
I kid you not, if I sit beside one more dude reading his farmers almanac with BO and slurping his hot coffee, I am going to lose it. Like really, who wants to endure that? If I were to be honest I sometimes pray that they will find a huge hair in their coffee. Like huge and crusty. I do. I know it's horrible but I do. I am sorry but it helps.
Last night Carla and I had a hot date at the movie theatre. The A-Team. It was all we expected to be. Little cheesy, little over the top, little "back in the day". Beautiful. So we sit down and are THE ONLY ONES IN THE THEATRE. It was cheap night to boot, needless to say we were a little stunned. So we totally starting making out. Okay like that would ever happen. PDA (Public Displays of Affection) - above temporary hand holding - and Carla are about as synonymous as hot dogs and meat. Eventually about 20 other people come into the theatre. 2 who sit like 3 chairs away from us. I don't know... 27 other rows that were completely empty, but no, you have to sit close to us because you will never have any clue about social graces will you. And of course, movie starts, dude pulls out the bag of popcorn and starts incrementally eating one piece of popcorn at a time. I kid you not, one piece at a time.... mouth open. I start to weep. Carla cannot contain herself anymore and bursts out laughing.
My leg starts twitching like a rabbit in heat.
Moustache boy continues this display for 20 minutes. I am in stunned silence. He then takes his popcorn bag of horror and starts shaking it like crazy. I have no clue but let me tell you he did not need anymore salt to lick off his individual pieces of popped corn terror. Freddy Krueger proceeds to re-engage his eating insanity until every single kernel has been inhaled. By this time I have lost all control and am lying in the fetal postion on the floor buck naked with napkins hammered into my ears. Carla gives me a boot to let me know that my nightmare has ended and just as I drop into my seat, death eater claps his hands together repeatedly to shake off the oozing butter and salt which have formed a brown paste on his fingertips ending his diatribe with the shirt flick and napkin brush. I was officially incapacitated.
I am in the process of inventing intravenous everything.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
I am not in the laughing mood
There are days when humour escapes me. When I get overwhelmed with stuff. I would say "life" but frankly life is not overwhelming. It's the things that make said life up which can be suffocatting. Or should I say, the stuff I add to my life which renders itself to be just that, stuff.
Don't get me wrong, I still laugh. Like when I saw these two elderly ladies walking across the street 2 days ago and one of them had blue polyester pants hiked to her armpits. Not the nice blue either. Ugly blue. And to boot, it caused the pants to be floods. Armpit floods. Love it.
Or the truck that just drove by me called the "Schwing 36x." Like who would not want to drive that around all day. What do you drive pal? '97 Honda Accord. How about you? Schwing 36x. You don't even need to say anything else. I am sure that guy always gets free coffee at Tim Horton's.
Or when my youngest decided to let us know whe was going to say a bad word while we were driving the other day. Much to our verbal denial of her proposed actions she let er rip. Kind of hoped to hear "stupid" or "bum" or something of that magnitude. Nope. 9.0 on the richter scale. F-bomb. And to boot, she tripled it. Bomb, bomb, bomb-o. Needless to say, chaos ensued. My son was sitting beside her and started losing his mind. Carla chanted "Caedyn... you cannot say that." Caedyn replied by gleefully dropping a few more bombs. Our vehicle was in an uproar so I told everyone to chill out. I calmly proceeded to tell Caedyn that she was not to say words like that. That worked wonders. She replied with... "You mean 'bomb' daddy?" (Let me interject for one moment here: With the complete knowledge that my 5 year old cannot read enough words to make sense of this blog (yet) I will admit that it was a brilliant reply. Crazy good. Which in turn makes me fret the 6 birthday and frankly every birthday after that...) It was then we got pretty serious with the, "Caedyn, if you continue to talk like that, mommy and daddy will have to wash your mouth out with soap." My first born, absolutely astounded boy, Brady did not take kindly to that response and replied with, "Are you kidding me? She needs to have a huge spanking... with a bible!" It was at this point in the episode that Carla and I lost all control. We could not help but start killing ourselves laughing. Cause yes, that's what pastors do, pull out the old KJV, open it up to Leviticus (cause it is super boring) and spank their children with it. Unreal. Brady continues his tirade and starts flailing his arms. I attempt to keep the vehicle on the road, Carla is trying to figure how in the world Caedyn would have come up with that one, and there sat Caedyn.... giggling and smiling and proud as punch that she said a bad word.
How she found out it was some sort of bad word, I have no clue. But was it coincidence that my parents were visiting the week before... Okay I am in so much trouble for actually posting that. Let it be known that I have never ever heard my parents use that word or anything close to that word in my entire lifetime. We weren't even allowed to use "uck" words growing up, never mind words containing "the other word" for donkey. Which made it a little difficult whenever my brother and I played hockey. Asking someone to "launch the disc I am open" may have been the reason I scored only 2 goals in my entire minor hockey career.
So yes, I can still laugh. But I just don't feel like it sometimes.
You see I have this tendency to get overwhelmed by situations. Some that I put myself into and some that I find myself in. They suck the laughter right out of me. I want to be joyful. I want to make people's day. I want to be in the moment. But the moment, the day is taken from me. I think it is that place of being caught between the dreaming and the coming true. The hope of something not yet realized. It's then that I start to panic. I attempt to control. I use my words for effect rather than for breathing life into a person or into the moment. 2 Timothy 2:22-25 compels me to be gentle and kind in my language. To pursue faith, love and peace. And here's the kicker... "out of a pure heart." I don't like that part. You see when I find myself overwhelmed I tend to only find myself. I become ego-centric. I don't want to get out. I rapidly move into survival. The tyranny of the urgent overtakes the purity of the motive. And when I find myself there, my ethics become subjective rather than objective. It becomes all about me. It is in those moments when the air seems so thin. I can't get enough oxygen into my viens. Everything starts looking dim.
And laughter becomes no medicine at all
But I know better. So today, I forced it. I made myself look up. I examined my heart. And when you take an honest look there you will find your motives. And I was soon reminded it can't be about me. A pure heart doesn't allow that.
And so it is... then I look up from my computer screen and out the window and see a dog pulling a guy wearing a yarmulka (said, 'Yamaka" thank you Adam Sandler) in a wheel chair. Crazy. Yet somehow everything seems just fine.
Don't get me wrong, I still laugh. Like when I saw these two elderly ladies walking across the street 2 days ago and one of them had blue polyester pants hiked to her armpits. Not the nice blue either. Ugly blue. And to boot, it caused the pants to be floods. Armpit floods. Love it.
Or the truck that just drove by me called the "Schwing 36x." Like who would not want to drive that around all day. What do you drive pal? '97 Honda Accord. How about you? Schwing 36x. You don't even need to say anything else. I am sure that guy always gets free coffee at Tim Horton's.
Or when my youngest decided to let us know whe was going to say a bad word while we were driving the other day. Much to our verbal denial of her proposed actions she let er rip. Kind of hoped to hear "stupid" or "bum" or something of that magnitude. Nope. 9.0 on the richter scale. F-bomb. And to boot, she tripled it. Bomb, bomb, bomb-o. Needless to say, chaos ensued. My son was sitting beside her and started losing his mind. Carla chanted "Caedyn... you cannot say that." Caedyn replied by gleefully dropping a few more bombs. Our vehicle was in an uproar so I told everyone to chill out. I calmly proceeded to tell Caedyn that she was not to say words like that. That worked wonders. She replied with... "You mean 'bomb' daddy?" (Let me interject for one moment here: With the complete knowledge that my 5 year old cannot read enough words to make sense of this blog (yet) I will admit that it was a brilliant reply. Crazy good. Which in turn makes me fret the 6 birthday and frankly every birthday after that...) It was then we got pretty serious with the, "Caedyn, if you continue to talk like that, mommy and daddy will have to wash your mouth out with soap." My first born, absolutely astounded boy, Brady did not take kindly to that response and replied with, "Are you kidding me? She needs to have a huge spanking... with a bible!" It was at this point in the episode that Carla and I lost all control. We could not help but start killing ourselves laughing. Cause yes, that's what pastors do, pull out the old KJV, open it up to Leviticus (cause it is super boring) and spank their children with it. Unreal. Brady continues his tirade and starts flailing his arms. I attempt to keep the vehicle on the road, Carla is trying to figure how in the world Caedyn would have come up with that one, and there sat Caedyn.... giggling and smiling and proud as punch that she said a bad word.
How she found out it was some sort of bad word, I have no clue. But was it coincidence that my parents were visiting the week before... Okay I am in so much trouble for actually posting that. Let it be known that I have never ever heard my parents use that word or anything close to that word in my entire lifetime. We weren't even allowed to use "uck" words growing up, never mind words containing "the other word" for donkey. Which made it a little difficult whenever my brother and I played hockey. Asking someone to "launch the disc I am open" may have been the reason I scored only 2 goals in my entire minor hockey career.
So yes, I can still laugh. But I just don't feel like it sometimes.
You see I have this tendency to get overwhelmed by situations. Some that I put myself into and some that I find myself in. They suck the laughter right out of me. I want to be joyful. I want to make people's day. I want to be in the moment. But the moment, the day is taken from me. I think it is that place of being caught between the dreaming and the coming true. The hope of something not yet realized. It's then that I start to panic. I attempt to control. I use my words for effect rather than for breathing life into a person or into the moment. 2 Timothy 2:22-25 compels me to be gentle and kind in my language. To pursue faith, love and peace. And here's the kicker... "out of a pure heart." I don't like that part. You see when I find myself overwhelmed I tend to only find myself. I become ego-centric. I don't want to get out. I rapidly move into survival. The tyranny of the urgent overtakes the purity of the motive. And when I find myself there, my ethics become subjective rather than objective. It becomes all about me. It is in those moments when the air seems so thin. I can't get enough oxygen into my viens. Everything starts looking dim.
And laughter becomes no medicine at all
But I know better. So today, I forced it. I made myself look up. I examined my heart. And when you take an honest look there you will find your motives. And I was soon reminded it can't be about me. A pure heart doesn't allow that.
And so it is... then I look up from my computer screen and out the window and see a dog pulling a guy wearing a yarmulka (said, 'Yamaka" thank you Adam Sandler) in a wheel chair. Crazy. Yet somehow everything seems just fine.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Just One of Those Days
My friend Jason reminded me that yesterday was a special day in movie history. July 6, 2010 was the day Marty McFly flew in his Delorean from the year 1985 to discover a completely different world of hover boards and a geeky dad.
So maybe you aren't convinced of this whole blogging, twitter, social media deal. Check out the stats below to see how convinced you might become. That being said, I do believe that Social media cannot and will not replace face to face relationships. It is interesting how many more people are shopping locally. Checking out farmers markets. Planning block parties. It seems that the more technologically advanced we become the more our hearts long for "real" facetime.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)