I was at work when my wife sent me an email with the title, "Water Leak?".
Not the kind of title I want to see. But she's at work also; maybe it's in her building.
No. It's at my house. Apparently my neighbor left a note on our door that there was a leak at the curb, and they shut off our water. I left work at 3, and headed home. The leak was where the PVC pipe went into the water meter.
"Easy enough," I thought.
All I need to do is cut the pipe back a little, and I can replace it. I dig out the pipe a little, and it may be harder than I think. And my fear is I'll cut it back, and break the pipe, and end up costing a lot of money. I call one company that I have given a lot of business to, and have been pretty impressed. But they can't get out until the next morning. No water all night? No. So I call another company.
They send someone as soon as they are done with a job. In less than an hour, someone shows up, looks at it, and writes up an estimate.
$520.
Excuse me? It's PVC pipe.
"I can do this," I think (again).
So I start back to work. I cut the pipe off, and part of it broke off in the fitting in the meter. I headed to Lowe's to get the fittings, and an extractor to get the piece out. After several minutes, I find some pieces that should work. Back at the house, I start digging back. I couldn't get the piece out of the meter fitting. The pipe comes out of the the meter, and immediately goes into the sprinkler system, which we don't have anymore. Then it went straight down. Okay, so this is going to be a lot more involved than I thought.
I called a friend who does his own construction work, and found out he doesn't do plumbing. His uncle does all of his work. So I called him at 6:00.
"Do you want me to come over now, or can it wait until the morning?" he asked.
"Well, I have no water, so if you could come over now, that would be great."
He was there in twenty minutes. Within an hour, he was done, and the yard was put back together. We had water, and no leak.
"How much do I owe you?" I asked.
"Seventy Five."
I wrote him a check for one hundred and twenty five.
Here's a guy who dropped what he was doing to come get me out of my problem. He may have been finishing dinner, or just sitting down to relax. He worked in the 100+ degree heat to fix it. The job was done right, and he barely charged enough to make it worth his time.
Anyone who needs plumbing work done, his name is Ben Stevenson, owner of Stevenson Services. He does excellent work, and more reasonably than just about anyone else.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Batman...Really?
Sitting down in front of the TV for the Cowboys vs. Bengals, I was more than ready to get the season started.
Before the game started, Andrea Kremer was talking to Terrell Owens and Chad Ochocinco. Cincinnati isn't the best team in the league, but Ochocinco has proven to be a pretty decent receiver. Owens was signed to a one-year, two million dollar deal. To most of us, two million dollars is nothing to scoff at. To someone who thinks he's the greatest receiver ever, that's chump change.
And yet, in the pre-game interview, Andrea asked how having too great receivers was going to work. Owens stuck his face out, and said, "I'm Batman..." He was obviously waiting for Ochocinco to follow up with, "I'm Robin." He did, and I couldn't help but think, "You get signed to a team that already has a good receiver, and you start out by telling the world that you are the number one receiver there? That the other guy is your sidekick?"
Wow. Nice to see Owens hasn't let the fact that almost no one wanted to sign him take away his...umm....confidence? No, let's just call it what it is. Arrogance.
Owens has moments of greatness. But he has one job. And when you are making millions of dollars a year to do one thing, you'd better be the best. Last night, I watched him do a simple post, and the ball hit him in the hands. Even when you're making a paltry two million a year, you can't drop passes like that.
It's also nice to see he hasn't lost his abilities.
Don't get me wrong. I don't hate Owens. But I got tired of watching him rant against the quarterback because he wasn't given a pass here and there. Then, he would drop two or three that hit him right in the chest.
And what ever happened to being thankful to be playing? Watching some of the speeches from the Hall-of-Fame inductees was refreshing. Here were people who played because they loved the game. One had waited thirty years to be inducted. And there was no (apparent) bitterness. He was thankful to be there. Most of those I saw gave credit to their teammates and coaches for the opportunities.
Emmett Smith cried when he thanked Daryl Johnston for blocking for him so many years, allowing him to make the runs he made. Now there's a class act.
Before the game started, Andrea Kremer was talking to Terrell Owens and Chad Ochocinco. Cincinnati isn't the best team in the league, but Ochocinco has proven to be a pretty decent receiver. Owens was signed to a one-year, two million dollar deal. To most of us, two million dollars is nothing to scoff at. To someone who thinks he's the greatest receiver ever, that's chump change.
And yet, in the pre-game interview, Andrea asked how having too great receivers was going to work. Owens stuck his face out, and said, "I'm Batman..." He was obviously waiting for Ochocinco to follow up with, "I'm Robin." He did, and I couldn't help but think, "You get signed to a team that already has a good receiver, and you start out by telling the world that you are the number one receiver there? That the other guy is your sidekick?"
Wow. Nice to see Owens hasn't let the fact that almost no one wanted to sign him take away his...umm....confidence? No, let's just call it what it is. Arrogance.
Owens has moments of greatness. But he has one job. And when you are making millions of dollars a year to do one thing, you'd better be the best. Last night, I watched him do a simple post, and the ball hit him in the hands. Even when you're making a paltry two million a year, you can't drop passes like that.
It's also nice to see he hasn't lost his abilities.
Don't get me wrong. I don't hate Owens. But I got tired of watching him rant against the quarterback because he wasn't given a pass here and there. Then, he would drop two or three that hit him right in the chest.
And what ever happened to being thankful to be playing? Watching some of the speeches from the Hall-of-Fame inductees was refreshing. Here were people who played because they loved the game. One had waited thirty years to be inducted. And there was no (apparent) bitterness. He was thankful to be there. Most of those I saw gave credit to their teammates and coaches for the opportunities.
Emmett Smith cried when he thanked Daryl Johnston for blocking for him so many years, allowing him to make the runs he made. Now there's a class act.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Bible Belt Coming Unbuckled
Her name is Jennifer Keeton. She is a graduate student at Augusta State University in Georgia. She wants to be a counselor when she graduates, "helping strengthen and prepare young people for the challenges they will face."
She has been told by the campus, that she will not be allowed to graduate unless she changes her beliefs. She has been ordered to undergo a re-education program that will force her to attend diversity and sensitivity training, including attending gay-pride marches, and writing papers, telling how she felt after the event.
We've been told we are no longer allowed to pray before football games. We've been told if you have a Bible on your desk, you can be fired for it. Now, public colleges are threatening to expel students if they do not agree with whatever the college decides they want you to believe.
Private companies and even private colleges have the right to choose who they would like to serve. A public college is not guaranteed that right.
If a homosexual had been turned away from Augusta State because he was gay, there would be national uproar. What happened to equal treatment? Why is it okay to punish one person because they believe "A", and not punish another because they believe "B"?
We in America have freedom of religion. That means the government does not have the right to force any religion on its people. It does not mean that no one is allowed to practice their religion if it could possibly offend anyone anywhere.
You choose to believe what you want. I accept that. I may not agree with you, but I support your right to have your belief. I can even have wonderful discussions with you about our beliefs, and why we believe that way. But if you have the right to believe in evolution, that homosexuality is right, or that we all are nothing but lumps of organic matter, then I have a right to believe in Creation, that there is right and wrong, and that God loved me enough to die on a cross for me.
Augusta State University does not have the right to take your money, and then decide you can't graduate because you don't believe the way they want you to believe. Neither do they have the right to force that upon Jennifer Keeton.
Where are the equal rights?
She has been told by the campus, that she will not be allowed to graduate unless she changes her beliefs. She has been ordered to undergo a re-education program that will force her to attend diversity and sensitivity training, including attending gay-pride marches, and writing papers, telling how she felt after the event.
We've been told we are no longer allowed to pray before football games. We've been told if you have a Bible on your desk, you can be fired for it. Now, public colleges are threatening to expel students if they do not agree with whatever the college decides they want you to believe.
Private companies and even private colleges have the right to choose who they would like to serve. A public college is not guaranteed that right.
If a homosexual had been turned away from Augusta State because he was gay, there would be national uproar. What happened to equal treatment? Why is it okay to punish one person because they believe "A", and not punish another because they believe "B"?
We in America have freedom of religion. That means the government does not have the right to force any religion on its people. It does not mean that no one is allowed to practice their religion if it could possibly offend anyone anywhere.
You choose to believe what you want. I accept that. I may not agree with you, but I support your right to have your belief. I can even have wonderful discussions with you about our beliefs, and why we believe that way. But if you have the right to believe in evolution, that homosexuality is right, or that we all are nothing but lumps of organic matter, then I have a right to believe in Creation, that there is right and wrong, and that God loved me enough to die on a cross for me.
Augusta State University does not have the right to take your money, and then decide you can't graduate because you don't believe the way they want you to believe. Neither do they have the right to force that upon Jennifer Keeton.
Where are the equal rights?
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Need Your CHL?
Last Saturday, I took my CHL class from Mike at K&K Firearms. I would highly recommend him to anyone.
There are a few things that (I think) set him above others, based on what I’ve read or heard.
1. Class Comfort. He teaches the class at his house, so instead of sitting in a straight-back chair in a musty conference room, you get to sit on a comfortable sofa, up close and personal.
2. Class Size. Since he is fairly new, his class doesn't have two dozen people. This allows a more personal interaction, and a nicer setting. Being new to concealed carry laws, I had a lot of questions that I might not have asked in a room full of people.
3. K&K Firearms. Not only is Mike a CHL Instructor, he is a licensed firearms dealer, so he can get just about anything you might be looking for. He is also a certified gunsmith, so if you need work done, or just want a good cleaning, he can take care of you.
4. Prices. His class was cheaper than others in the area. His charge to clean a gun is $30, and that means breaking it down completely...not just the barrel area.
5. Personal Help. At the range, Mike pointed out things that would help. He gave excellent tips and pointers that not only helped me pass the test, but will help from now on.
6. Monkey Bread. Yes, you read that correctly. During break, we enjoyed some wonderful monkey bread made by his wife. Sure beats some stale, cruddy snack from a vending machine.
If you are in the DFW area, and need a CHL, gun cleaning, or a gun, give Mike a shout at http://www.kkfirearms.com/.
And tell him Laron sent you. That won't get you any kind of discount or anything, but he'll get a kick out of how you mispronounce my name. :-)
There are a few things that (I think) set him above others, based on what I’ve read or heard.
1. Class Comfort. He teaches the class at his house, so instead of sitting in a straight-back chair in a musty conference room, you get to sit on a comfortable sofa, up close and personal.
2. Class Size. Since he is fairly new, his class doesn't have two dozen people. This allows a more personal interaction, and a nicer setting. Being new to concealed carry laws, I had a lot of questions that I might not have asked in a room full of people.
3. K&K Firearms. Not only is Mike a CHL Instructor, he is a licensed firearms dealer, so he can get just about anything you might be looking for. He is also a certified gunsmith, so if you need work done, or just want a good cleaning, he can take care of you.
4. Prices. His class was cheaper than others in the area. His charge to clean a gun is $30, and that means breaking it down completely...not just the barrel area.
5. Personal Help. At the range, Mike pointed out things that would help. He gave excellent tips and pointers that not only helped me pass the test, but will help from now on.
6. Monkey Bread. Yes, you read that correctly. During break, we enjoyed some wonderful monkey bread made by his wife. Sure beats some stale, cruddy snack from a vending machine.
If you are in the DFW area, and need a CHL, gun cleaning, or a gun, give Mike a shout at http://www.kkfirearms.com/.
And tell him Laron sent you. That won't get you any kind of discount or anything, but he'll get a kick out of how you mispronounce my name. :-)
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
"Unconstitutionally vague"
Picture this:
You're sitting on the couch with your 5 and 7 year old kids. It's embarrassing enough to have to explain what incontinence means, or why someone would need to use Levitra. Suddenly, someone says something that makes your face begin to burn.
With perfect innocence, your five-year old looks at you and asks, "What does that mean?"
Now you have to explain what a four letter word means that you would wash their mouth out for using.
Today, a three-member panel has overturned the FCC's indecency policy, stating it is "unconstitutionally vague."
So in essence, three people have decided that it is no longer illegal for a network to broadcast obscene or indecent material. And it doesn't matter if you agree or not. It doesn't matter that the majority of Americans were in favor of the ban, and fines for networks that allowed inappropriate material. And it doesn't matter that even the Supreme Court was in favor of the policy. They didn't like it.
It seems to me that calling something "unconstitutionally vague" goes back to the proverbial pot and kettle.
Panel: "I don't agree with this."
You: "Why not?"
Panel: "Because...that's why."
As if the media hasn't been stretching the envelope for years anyway, they now have no fear of retribution for broadcasting anything and everything, at any time of the day.
God help us.
You're sitting on the couch with your 5 and 7 year old kids. It's embarrassing enough to have to explain what incontinence means, or why someone would need to use Levitra. Suddenly, someone says something that makes your face begin to burn.
With perfect innocence, your five-year old looks at you and asks, "What does that mean?"
Now you have to explain what a four letter word means that you would wash their mouth out for using.
Today, a three-member panel has overturned the FCC's indecency policy, stating it is "unconstitutionally vague."
So in essence, three people have decided that it is no longer illegal for a network to broadcast obscene or indecent material. And it doesn't matter if you agree or not. It doesn't matter that the majority of Americans were in favor of the ban, and fines for networks that allowed inappropriate material. And it doesn't matter that even the Supreme Court was in favor of the policy. They didn't like it.
It seems to me that calling something "unconstitutionally vague" goes back to the proverbial pot and kettle.
Panel: "I don't agree with this."
You: "Why not?"
Panel: "Because...that's why."
As if the media hasn't been stretching the envelope for years anyway, they now have no fear of retribution for broadcasting anything and everything, at any time of the day.
God help us.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Illegal Immigration
Just watched a video of Jim Brosser.
In Reno, Nevada, there was a business that was flying the Mexican flag ABOVE the American flag. It was in front of a business that was obviously trying to make a point.
Point taken. But maybe I can remind you of a couple of things...
First off, it's illegal to fly any flag above the American flag. Period.
Second, you are here because you wanted a better way of life. If you think you would have a better life in Mexico, feel free to go.
I understand you are standing in opposition to Arizona's Immigration Law. One of the things that makes America great is our rights. You have the right to speak your mind...if you are a citizen. Thousands have fought and died to give you that right.
This country was founded by immigrants. Immigrants have helped shape this country into what it is today. Anyone who wants a better life, and the rights we have as Americans are welcome with open arms. But there is a procedure to follow. Go through the steps, and become a legal citizen, and you will be given the same rights any of us have. Move next door to me, and you will be my neighbor. I'll chat with you in the evenings, and consider you a friend. Cross the border without your documents, and you are illegal.
You don't agree with the policies? You want to voice your disapproval? Go on the radio, post a blog, send a letter to your congressman or senator. Whatever you choose to do, make it legal. Which brings me to another point. You are showing support for the millions of illegal immigrants living in America.
Today, people prefer we call them undocumented workers. We don't want to offend anyone, do we? But we don't call drug dealers unlicensed pharmacists. There is legal, and there is illegal.
What part of illegal do you not understand?
You show your support of illegal immigrants by illegally flying the Mexican flag above the American flag. And you want us to sympathize? Sorry. It doesn't work that way.
According to the National Human Rights Commission,
• In 2008, Mexico softened the punishment for illegal immigrants, from a maximum 10 years in prison to a maximum fine of $461.
• In one six-month period from September 2008 through February 2009, at least 9,758 migrants were kidnapped and held for ransom in Mexico — 91 of them with the direct participation of Mexican police.
Mexico has a single, streamlined law that ensures that foreign visitors and immigrants are:
• in the country legally;
• have the means to sustain themselves economically;
• not destined to be burdens on society;
• of economic and social benefit to society;
• of good character and have no criminal records; and
• contributors to the general well-being of the nation.
The law also ensures that:
• immigration authorities have a record of each foreign visitor;
• foreign visitors do not violate their visa status;
• foreign visitors are banned from interfering in the country’s internal politics;
• foreign visitors who enter under false pretenses are imprisoned or deported;
• foreign visitors violating the terms of their entry are imprisoned or deported;
• those who aid in illegal immigration will be sent to prison.
So if I decided to just move to Mexico without any documentation, and showing I didn't care anything about their laws, what would happen to me? I could be deported, but I could also be imprisoned. What if I moved there, demanded they support me and my children, give me free schooling, give me free healthcare, and demanded they accept me just as I am?
What do you suppose would happen if I were to move to Mexico, and fly the American flag above the Mexican flag?
You want to come to America? I don't blame you. You want to live here, and enjoy the benefits and rights we have? That's great.
Do it legally. The more you trample America, the more we will begin to fight back.
Jim Brosser walked away with the American flag, saying if they wanted their flag back, they would have to fight him for it. And that he wasn't going to "see this done to my country".
Good for you, Jim. May more Americans stand up for our rights before they are gone.
In Reno, Nevada, there was a business that was flying the Mexican flag ABOVE the American flag. It was in front of a business that was obviously trying to make a point.
Point taken. But maybe I can remind you of a couple of things...
First off, it's illegal to fly any flag above the American flag. Period.
Second, you are here because you wanted a better way of life. If you think you would have a better life in Mexico, feel free to go.
I understand you are standing in opposition to Arizona's Immigration Law. One of the things that makes America great is our rights. You have the right to speak your mind...if you are a citizen. Thousands have fought and died to give you that right.
This country was founded by immigrants. Immigrants have helped shape this country into what it is today. Anyone who wants a better life, and the rights we have as Americans are welcome with open arms. But there is a procedure to follow. Go through the steps, and become a legal citizen, and you will be given the same rights any of us have. Move next door to me, and you will be my neighbor. I'll chat with you in the evenings, and consider you a friend. Cross the border without your documents, and you are illegal.
You don't agree with the policies? You want to voice your disapproval? Go on the radio, post a blog, send a letter to your congressman or senator. Whatever you choose to do, make it legal. Which brings me to another point. You are showing support for the millions of illegal immigrants living in America.
Today, people prefer we call them undocumented workers. We don't want to offend anyone, do we? But we don't call drug dealers unlicensed pharmacists. There is legal, and there is illegal.
What part of illegal do you not understand?
You show your support of illegal immigrants by illegally flying the Mexican flag above the American flag. And you want us to sympathize? Sorry. It doesn't work that way.
According to the National Human Rights Commission,
• In 2008, Mexico softened the punishment for illegal immigrants, from a maximum 10 years in prison to a maximum fine of $461.
• In one six-month period from September 2008 through February 2009, at least 9,758 migrants were kidnapped and held for ransom in Mexico — 91 of them with the direct participation of Mexican police.
Mexico has a single, streamlined law that ensures that foreign visitors and immigrants are:
• in the country legally;
• have the means to sustain themselves economically;
• not destined to be burdens on society;
• of economic and social benefit to society;
• of good character and have no criminal records; and
• contributors to the general well-being of the nation.
The law also ensures that:
• immigration authorities have a record of each foreign visitor;
• foreign visitors do not violate their visa status;
• foreign visitors are banned from interfering in the country’s internal politics;
• foreign visitors who enter under false pretenses are imprisoned or deported;
• foreign visitors violating the terms of their entry are imprisoned or deported;
• those who aid in illegal immigration will be sent to prison.
So if I decided to just move to Mexico without any documentation, and showing I didn't care anything about their laws, what would happen to me? I could be deported, but I could also be imprisoned. What if I moved there, demanded they support me and my children, give me free schooling, give me free healthcare, and demanded they accept me just as I am?
What do you suppose would happen if I were to move to Mexico, and fly the American flag above the Mexican flag?
You want to come to America? I don't blame you. You want to live here, and enjoy the benefits and rights we have? That's great.
Do it legally. The more you trample America, the more we will begin to fight back.
Jim Brosser walked away with the American flag, saying if they wanted their flag back, they would have to fight him for it. And that he wasn't going to "see this done to my country".
Good for you, Jim. May more Americans stand up for our rights before they are gone.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Our Youth
So this past Saturday, I was part of the Bill Glass Prison Ministry team that went into several youth facilities in the DFW area.
There were four campuses that were visited in Dallas County. These ranged from non-fenced centers designed to help troubled youth get their lives straightened out, to facilities holding sentenced youth before they are sent to an actual prison. A youth convicted of a crime will not be sent to prison until he is at least seventeen. Until they reach that age, they are kept at one of the youth facilities.
So we were spent the day with kids from broken homes, many of whom had been involved in gangs. Sitting across from a kid with gang tattoos up and down his arms breaks something inside. Somehow, you go from looking at a kid like this as a punk, to seeing someone facing a life of consequences due to his choices.
They earn points through the day to gain privileges. If they don't have enough points, they don't even get to have a visitor. When they get to a certain level, their family can come visit with them on a Saturday afternoon. Another level lets them go home to visit on a Saturday. Eventually, they can work up to a 48-hour release to live at home during the weekend.
One kid earned that privilege, and went home at 6 PM on Friday, only to be dropped off early Saturday morning because his mother had to work all weekend. He played it tough, like he didn't care a lot, but you know it had to hurt him. But mom doesn't have a choice. Most of these kids come from single-parent homes...or worse.
They know they need to turn their lives around, but when one chooses to open up, and admit he needs help, he is often ridiculed or persecuted by the others. Show compassion, or weakness, and you are called "friendly." I never thought that was a bad thing until I heard one of them discuss it. He said he was trying to pray, and read his Bible, but the others picked on him a lot. At least he was trying.
Most of the kids have no hope for themselves. We can come in and talk to them for a day about how we care about them, and they can have a better life for themselves when they get out. But as you talk, you see their eyes, looking around the room in total apathy. They will tell you what they think you want to hear. In their voices, you hear no concern, no hope, and no desire for anything other than to get this over with.
Some decisions were made. In our unit, there were 14 who accepted the Gospel. Out of those, I only personally spoke with two. Only God truly knows, but they seemed to only be going through the motions because they thought they were supposed to. Out of the fourteen, I hope there were at least a couple who were sincere. If nothing else, they were given Bible studies, and will be followed up with by the Chaplain of the unit.
Without the hope, and a changed life, these kids will be more statistics in a database. They get out, only to come back. And the crimes may go from stealing or drugs to much worse as they grow. They will go back to the same homes, in the same neighborhoods, surrounded by the same kids. And they will likely slip back into the same life they had before.
My part was easy. Spend one Saturday, offering hope and an answer to those who need it most. Driving home, I wasn't able to feel I had "done my part". Leaving a campus of youth, most of whom have no hope for tomorrow.
The one day I spent left images and discussions that broke through, and showed me what "life" is really like for some.
God help them. And help us, as Your people, to not turn our backs on them. Never let us write them off as untouchable. Give us the courage to share the grace you have given to us. And help us to remember we are no more deserving of Your grace than they are.
There were four campuses that were visited in Dallas County. These ranged from non-fenced centers designed to help troubled youth get their lives straightened out, to facilities holding sentenced youth before they are sent to an actual prison. A youth convicted of a crime will not be sent to prison until he is at least seventeen. Until they reach that age, they are kept at one of the youth facilities.
So we were spent the day with kids from broken homes, many of whom had been involved in gangs. Sitting across from a kid with gang tattoos up and down his arms breaks something inside. Somehow, you go from looking at a kid like this as a punk, to seeing someone facing a life of consequences due to his choices.
They earn points through the day to gain privileges. If they don't have enough points, they don't even get to have a visitor. When they get to a certain level, their family can come visit with them on a Saturday afternoon. Another level lets them go home to visit on a Saturday. Eventually, they can work up to a 48-hour release to live at home during the weekend.
One kid earned that privilege, and went home at 6 PM on Friday, only to be dropped off early Saturday morning because his mother had to work all weekend. He played it tough, like he didn't care a lot, but you know it had to hurt him. But mom doesn't have a choice. Most of these kids come from single-parent homes...or worse.
They know they need to turn their lives around, but when one chooses to open up, and admit he needs help, he is often ridiculed or persecuted by the others. Show compassion, or weakness, and you are called "friendly." I never thought that was a bad thing until I heard one of them discuss it. He said he was trying to pray, and read his Bible, but the others picked on him a lot. At least he was trying.
Most of the kids have no hope for themselves. We can come in and talk to them for a day about how we care about them, and they can have a better life for themselves when they get out. But as you talk, you see their eyes, looking around the room in total apathy. They will tell you what they think you want to hear. In their voices, you hear no concern, no hope, and no desire for anything other than to get this over with.
Some decisions were made. In our unit, there were 14 who accepted the Gospel. Out of those, I only personally spoke with two. Only God truly knows, but they seemed to only be going through the motions because they thought they were supposed to. Out of the fourteen, I hope there were at least a couple who were sincere. If nothing else, they were given Bible studies, and will be followed up with by the Chaplain of the unit.
Without the hope, and a changed life, these kids will be more statistics in a database. They get out, only to come back. And the crimes may go from stealing or drugs to much worse as they grow. They will go back to the same homes, in the same neighborhoods, surrounded by the same kids. And they will likely slip back into the same life they had before.
My part was easy. Spend one Saturday, offering hope and an answer to those who need it most. Driving home, I wasn't able to feel I had "done my part". Leaving a campus of youth, most of whom have no hope for tomorrow.
The one day I spent left images and discussions that broke through, and showed me what "life" is really like for some.
God help them. And help us, as Your people, to not turn our backs on them. Never let us write them off as untouchable. Give us the courage to share the grace you have given to us. And help us to remember we are no more deserving of Your grace than they are.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Why get a CHL?
So I'm getting my CHL (Concealed Handgun License). And I've had a couple of people ask me why.
1.) On July 18, 1984, at McDonald's in San Diego, California, James Oliver Huberty killed 21, and injured another 19. Among those killed that afternoon were a 74 year old man, and an 8 month old infant. Finally, 77 minutes after the attack began, he was shot and killed by a SWAT sniper.
2.) On June 18, 1990, at the GMAC office in Jacksonville, Florida, James Edward Pough killed 9 employees and customers, and then killed himself.
3.) On October 16, 1991, at the Luby's cafeteria in Killeen, Texas, George Hennard drove his truck through the front window, and began shooting. No rhyme or reason, other than to kill as many people as he could. He succeeded in killing 23, and wounding another 20 before taking his own life.
4.) On January 8, 1993, at Brown's Chicken and Pasta in Palatine, Illinois, two gunmen murdered seven employees. The motive was originally robbery, although less than $2,000 was taken.
5.) On April 20, 1999, at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, 12 students and one teacher were killed before the Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold committed suicide.
6.) On April 16, 2007 at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Virginia, Seung-Hui Cho killed 5 faculty members, and 27 students before committing suicide.
7.) On November 5, 2009, at Fort Hood in Killeen, Texas, Nidal Milak Hasan, opened fire, killing 12 soldiers, one of whom was pregnant, and one civilian. He wounded 30 others before being shot by an officer.
It is a hot topic, and one that brings out a lot of emotions. One side says that we need stronger gun laws to keep these things from happening. But the one common factor in all of these shootings is that the perpetrator was the only one at the scene with a gun. In the Fort Hood shootings, Hasan began in the Soldier Readiness Center. There were no firearms allowed there. But he was there to kill. He cared nothing about the law.
If we outlaw guns, and the carrying of them, we insure that the only people who will have guns are the criminals.
During the Luby's shootings, Hennard approached Suzanna Gratia Hupp and her parents. Hupp had actually brought a handgun to the Luby's Cafeteria that day but left it in her vehicle because laws in force at the time forbade citizens from carrying firearms. According to her later testimony, after she realized that her firearm was not in her purse but "a hundred feet away in her car," her father charged at Hennard in an attempt to subdue him but was gunned down; a short time later, Hupp's mother was also shot and killed. Hupp later expressed regret for abiding by the law in question by leaving her firearm in her car rather than keeping it on her person.
What would have happened if Hennard drove through a Luby's window today? There is at least a chance that someone there would be able to stop him before he killed 23 people.
Making the decision to carry a handgun is not an easy decision to make. And I pray I will never have a reason to pull my gun on anyone. But if I'm at a restaurant, and someone comes in with the intention of killing my family, I will do everything in my power to stop them. Unarmed, I might be able to throw a chair at him. Armed, I have a chance to defend myself, my family, and other innocent people.
With law-abiding citizens allowed to carry handguns, criminals just might think twice before going on a rampage.
1.) On July 18, 1984, at McDonald's in San Diego, California, James Oliver Huberty killed 21, and injured another 19. Among those killed that afternoon were a 74 year old man, and an 8 month old infant. Finally, 77 minutes after the attack began, he was shot and killed by a SWAT sniper.
2.) On June 18, 1990, at the GMAC office in Jacksonville, Florida, James Edward Pough killed 9 employees and customers, and then killed himself.
3.) On October 16, 1991, at the Luby's cafeteria in Killeen, Texas, George Hennard drove his truck through the front window, and began shooting. No rhyme or reason, other than to kill as many people as he could. He succeeded in killing 23, and wounding another 20 before taking his own life.
4.) On January 8, 1993, at Brown's Chicken and Pasta in Palatine, Illinois, two gunmen murdered seven employees. The motive was originally robbery, although less than $2,000 was taken.
5.) On April 20, 1999, at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, 12 students and one teacher were killed before the Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold committed suicide.
6.) On April 16, 2007 at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Virginia, Seung-Hui Cho killed 5 faculty members, and 27 students before committing suicide.
7.) On November 5, 2009, at Fort Hood in Killeen, Texas, Nidal Milak Hasan, opened fire, killing 12 soldiers, one of whom was pregnant, and one civilian. He wounded 30 others before being shot by an officer.
It is a hot topic, and one that brings out a lot of emotions. One side says that we need stronger gun laws to keep these things from happening. But the one common factor in all of these shootings is that the perpetrator was the only one at the scene with a gun. In the Fort Hood shootings, Hasan began in the Soldier Readiness Center. There were no firearms allowed there. But he was there to kill. He cared nothing about the law.
If we outlaw guns, and the carrying of them, we insure that the only people who will have guns are the criminals.
During the Luby's shootings, Hennard approached Suzanna Gratia Hupp and her parents. Hupp had actually brought a handgun to the Luby's Cafeteria that day but left it in her vehicle because laws in force at the time forbade citizens from carrying firearms. According to her later testimony, after she realized that her firearm was not in her purse but "a hundred feet away in her car," her father charged at Hennard in an attempt to subdue him but was gunned down; a short time later, Hupp's mother was also shot and killed. Hupp later expressed regret for abiding by the law in question by leaving her firearm in her car rather than keeping it on her person.
What would have happened if Hennard drove through a Luby's window today? There is at least a chance that someone there would be able to stop him before he killed 23 people.
Making the decision to carry a handgun is not an easy decision to make. And I pray I will never have a reason to pull my gun on anyone. But if I'm at a restaurant, and someone comes in with the intention of killing my family, I will do everything in my power to stop them. Unarmed, I might be able to throw a chair at him. Armed, I have a chance to defend myself, my family, and other innocent people.
With law-abiding citizens allowed to carry handguns, criminals just might think twice before going on a rampage.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Dogs
So we have a sweet dog, Sadie. She was rescued from being euthanized twice before we picked her up from Fireplug Rescue. She is maybe the sweetest dog I've ever had. When we got her, we were told she was afraid of thunderstorms, but "give her a Benadryl, and she'll be fine."
Whatever.
Benadryl did nothing. Two did nothing. It's a blast when you are trying to sleep, and the storm comes through at two in the morning. She used to jump up on the bed, walk across whatever bodies happened to be laying there, and jump down. She either turned around, jumped right back up, and did it again, or walked around the bed, and did it from the same side again.
The vet prescribed "doggy Xanax", and she "should be fine". That did nothing. So he prescribed Valium. No effect. Finally, he gave us Ace-Promazine. It's what they give dogs just before they put them completely out for surgery. When she is on the drug, she barely functions. She staggers around, and looks half asleep.
Perfect...until the first clap of thunder, and it's like she has nothing at all. She has progressed from just jumping on the bed to stepping, standing or climbing on your stomach, chest, or face.
"Yes, Sadie, we are aware it's storming, but thanks for making sure we know about it."
Nothing will console her.
If we are both gone, as we both are most of the day, since we both work, Sadie decides she has to get somewhere. She isn't sure where. She just knows it isn't where she is at the moment. She's smart enough to know a closed door leads to somewhere else, but apparently not smart enough to know it is just a bedroom, and the thunder is just as loud in there.
A few years ago, we lived in a house with a cat door leading out to the garage. It was 5" x 8". She tried several times to get into the garage. She knew we left that way, so I guess she wanted to come find us. The cat door had a plastic piece that closed the opening, and she learned how to get that out of the way. So I super-glued it shut. That didn't even slow her down. So I bought the industrial epoxy, use this, and it will NEVER come undone. Not a problem for Super Sadie.
During a storm one day, we lost a solar screen from the upstairs bedroom. It was a 48" x 72". The screen was in perfect shape. The clips that held it to the house had broken. So I set it outside in the garage. I'm pretty sure it was at least a couple of feet from the door. We came home to find it was inside the laundry room, and had been torn to shreds. How a 48 pound dog manages to pull that big screen through that tiny opening is still a mystery.
In another storm at our current house, she decided she didn't like the living room blinds, or that they were somehow making the thunder louder. So she basically shredded them. Thankfully, she stopped there, before she tried to shred the window.
A few weeks ago, we came home to find the carpet in the bedroom hallway had been pulled up, and a large portion had been shredded. We think Pepper (our other dog) helped her actually tearing the carpet into strips. Pepper was rescued from the side of the road, and we drove an hour and a half to go pick her up.
No telling what the canines had in mind with the carpet. Our house is just a single-story, so it isn't like they needed to tie the strips together to escape. Boredom will do that for a dog, I guess. Pepper gets bored pretty easily, and I guess she talked Sadie into letting her use some of the carpet to entertain herself.
It's hard to be mad, since the carpet was going to come out anyway. We just weren't planning to do it until we actually had the money to put hardwoods down. If only I could teach them to get a part-time job to help pay for the damage they do. If they weren't so cute and loveable, when they're tired anyway, they would have been given away a long time ago.
But when you come through the door at the end of a stressful day, their sweet faces greet you at the door as if you were the best thing God ever created. What a wonderful thing to come home to. If it hasn't been storming...
Whatever.
Benadryl did nothing. Two did nothing. It's a blast when you are trying to sleep, and the storm comes through at two in the morning. She used to jump up on the bed, walk across whatever bodies happened to be laying there, and jump down. She either turned around, jumped right back up, and did it again, or walked around the bed, and did it from the same side again.
The vet prescribed "doggy Xanax", and she "should be fine". That did nothing. So he prescribed Valium. No effect. Finally, he gave us Ace-Promazine. It's what they give dogs just before they put them completely out for surgery. When she is on the drug, she barely functions. She staggers around, and looks half asleep.
Perfect...until the first clap of thunder, and it's like she has nothing at all. She has progressed from just jumping on the bed to stepping, standing or climbing on your stomach, chest, or face.
"Yes, Sadie, we are aware it's storming, but thanks for making sure we know about it."
Nothing will console her.
If we are both gone, as we both are most of the day, since we both work, Sadie decides she has to get somewhere. She isn't sure where. She just knows it isn't where she is at the moment. She's smart enough to know a closed door leads to somewhere else, but apparently not smart enough to know it is just a bedroom, and the thunder is just as loud in there.
A few years ago, we lived in a house with a cat door leading out to the garage. It was 5" x 8". She tried several times to get into the garage. She knew we left that way, so I guess she wanted to come find us. The cat door had a plastic piece that closed the opening, and she learned how to get that out of the way. So I super-glued it shut. That didn't even slow her down. So I bought the industrial epoxy, use this, and it will NEVER come undone. Not a problem for Super Sadie.
During a storm one day, we lost a solar screen from the upstairs bedroom. It was a 48" x 72". The screen was in perfect shape. The clips that held it to the house had broken. So I set it outside in the garage. I'm pretty sure it was at least a couple of feet from the door. We came home to find it was inside the laundry room, and had been torn to shreds. How a 48 pound dog manages to pull that big screen through that tiny opening is still a mystery.
In another storm at our current house, she decided she didn't like the living room blinds, or that they were somehow making the thunder louder. So she basically shredded them. Thankfully, she stopped there, before she tried to shred the window.
A few weeks ago, we came home to find the carpet in the bedroom hallway had been pulled up, and a large portion had been shredded. We think Pepper (our other dog) helped her actually tearing the carpet into strips. Pepper was rescued from the side of the road, and we drove an hour and a half to go pick her up.
No telling what the canines had in mind with the carpet. Our house is just a single-story, so it isn't like they needed to tie the strips together to escape. Boredom will do that for a dog, I guess. Pepper gets bored pretty easily, and I guess she talked Sadie into letting her use some of the carpet to entertain herself.
It's hard to be mad, since the carpet was going to come out anyway. We just weren't planning to do it until we actually had the money to put hardwoods down. If only I could teach them to get a part-time job to help pay for the damage they do. If they weren't so cute and loveable, when they're tired anyway, they would have been given away a long time ago.
But when you come through the door at the end of a stressful day, their sweet faces greet you at the door as if you were the best thing God ever created. What a wonderful thing to come home to. If it hasn't been storming...
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Merge Now
Most of us who drive more than 15 miles to work have that one spot where one lane ends, due to construction, an accident, or by design. And there are always the people who know the lane ends, and they need to merge, but they insist on staying in the lane until they reach the end. Then they force their way in, happy that they managed to get a few cars ahead.
On our last trip to Eureka Springs, there was quite a bit of construction going on, with lanes closed for miles. Not one person went to the end, and forced their way in. They say that Texas has the most courteous drivers. (Obviously they don't drive in Dallas very often). But this had little to do with courtesy. At the beginning of the construction, long before the lane ended, were huge signs that read:
"Merge Now - State Law"
How awesome is that? And it got me thinking...how many other signs could we make?
"Yield means the cars coming off the freeway have the right of way. Slow down or move - State Law."
"Stereos turned up loud enough to vibrate other cars out of their lanes are strictly prohibited - State Law"
"The little lever on your steering wheel activates your signal. Use it - State Law."
"Applying mascara is just as dangerous as texting. Your car is not a bathroom. Put it on before leaving, or after you get there - State Law"
"When traffic is stopped, and you pass everyone by driving 60 mph on the shoulder, your car will be sold at auction, and the money given to those you passed - State Law"
"Motorcycles driving down the stripe to pass through traffic will have doors opened for them - State Law."
"Cigarettes thrown from cars will be collected, and dumped on smoker's lawn at the end of the month - State Law."
"Honking your horn the millisecond the light turns green strictly prohibited. Violators will have their horns removed, and placed at random hidden places in their homes, and honked at odd hours in the middle of the night - State Law."
Coming up with this list, and realizing I could go on makes me wonder. Are other drivers really that rude? Or does it just irritate me more the older I get?
Maybe both.
On our last trip to Eureka Springs, there was quite a bit of construction going on, with lanes closed for miles. Not one person went to the end, and forced their way in. They say that Texas has the most courteous drivers. (Obviously they don't drive in Dallas very often). But this had little to do with courtesy. At the beginning of the construction, long before the lane ended, were huge signs that read:
"Merge Now - State Law"
How awesome is that? And it got me thinking...how many other signs could we make?
"Yield means the cars coming off the freeway have the right of way. Slow down or move - State Law."
"Stereos turned up loud enough to vibrate other cars out of their lanes are strictly prohibited - State Law"
"The little lever on your steering wheel activates your signal. Use it - State Law."
"Applying mascara is just as dangerous as texting. Your car is not a bathroom. Put it on before leaving, or after you get there - State Law"
"When traffic is stopped, and you pass everyone by driving 60 mph on the shoulder, your car will be sold at auction, and the money given to those you passed - State Law"
"Motorcycles driving down the stripe to pass through traffic will have doors opened for them - State Law."
"Cigarettes thrown from cars will be collected, and dumped on smoker's lawn at the end of the month - State Law."
"Honking your horn the millisecond the light turns green strictly prohibited. Violators will have their horns removed, and placed at random hidden places in their homes, and honked at odd hours in the middle of the night - State Law."
Coming up with this list, and realizing I could go on makes me wonder. Are other drivers really that rude? Or does it just irritate me more the older I get?
Maybe both.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Our Anniversary
It was our tenth anniversary, and we booked a four-day weekend at a little room overlooking Beaver Lake in Eureka Springs. They had separate cabins, but those were booked. So I booked a small suite in the main building. When we arrived, there were several deer out front, and they didn’t seem too concerned that we were there. They watched us carefully, but didn’t run away, even when we stared at them. What a perfect place! Our room faced the East, and had a spectacular view of the lake. This was going to be a stress-free, relaxing weekend away from the busyness of life.
So we got to the room, and after quite a bit of information from the owner, we began to relax from the long drive. I laid down on the bed, playing with…I mean, adjusting the bed. It was a Sleep Number bed, and I needed to know what my comfort level was. After ten minutes or so, I got up, and went and sat in the chair.
Dawn looks over at the bed from the other chair where she’s sitting, and notices there is a creature on the bed.
It went something like:
“That’s a weird kind of bug. OH MY GOSH, IT’S A SCORPION!!”
It’s a shame I can’t convey the shivers in her voice, or the mild convulsions on display.
I thought at first, she was mistaken. What would a scorpion be doing on our bed in Eureka Springs? Looking closer, I could see it was a scorpion, alright. About an inch and a half long, it was happily wandering down the edge of the bed, no doubt wondering why I had left the bed for the chair.
I wish I would have thought quickly enough to get its picture to share. But I was still trying to figure out what he was doing there. And, if I didn’t kill it quickly enough, my wife would decide to leave right then for the Holiday Inn. So I knocked it to the floor, and killed it with my hiking boot. It was only after I returned from the bathroom with a wad of toilet paper sufficient to keep me from accidentally sticking myself with the stinger, that I really noticed the color of the carpet.
It was green, and I had noticed that. But it also had plenty of flecks of brown and grey. So it took me a moment to find the dead creature. I say dead because I started to worry that it hadn’t really been dead, but had somehow scampered off under the bed. If that were the case, I would have been joining my wife at the Holiday Inn. I soon found it, a foot or more from where I remember it being, but it was dead.
“I can’t believe it was just crawling around on the bed,” Dawn said. “You were just laying there.”
“Yes, dear,” I thought, “that occurred to me, too.”
Of course, she was pretty unnerved. I played the part of the valiant husband/scorpion killer, and showed her how unworried I was by telling her that there couldn’t be another scorpion in the room. She herself said she had never seen one, so it was unlikely there would be two in the same room. In the back of my mind, however, one word kept rolling through my head.
Infestation.
Great. So now, I would only walk through the room in my shoes, looking with the brightest flashlight I have ever had, checking every square inch of the floor for any more intruders. I would be more than happy to step on any that might be there, but not barefooted.
I’ve been stung by fire ants, a yellow jacket, a red wasp, and even a hornet. I’ve never been stung by a scorpion thankfully.
After a thorough search of the room, including behind the headboard, in the chair cushions, behind the television, heater, chairs, chest, plant and magazine rack, I felt pretty sure we were safe.
The owner had told us about a nature trail that ran down to the lake, and around the property. So we sprayed our feet with Off to keep the chiggers at bay, and headed down. Partway down the trail, there was a small bench. The view of the lake was obscured from there, but it was still pretty. Feeling something crawling on my leg, my mind immediately remembered that word again, but I knew it was likely a fly or mosquito.
So I reached down, and realized it didn’t feel like either. Too small to be a scorpion, I looked down and found the creature crawling up on the finger I had used to brush it off.
“Good,” I thought. “Only a tick.”
“Uhhh…” I said, being the calm leader of our two person group. “That was a tick.”
We continued down the trail, not exactly thrilled with the last two encounters with nature. As we began to walk along a rock bluff, I caught a strange odor. With the first breath, it smelled like some kind of musty algae or fungus. With the second breath, I knew it wasn’t algae or mold. It was something dead. Still undaunted, we continued, where less than a minute later, I spotted what was causing the delightful scent.
It had been a deer at one point it its cycle. I won’t go any further with that.
So back on the porch outside our room, we removed our shoes, finding another large tick. Showers were definitely in order. Two more large ticks and two small ticks later, we felt safe for the moment. Picking my blue jean shorts off the floor to check them more, another one crawled out onto my hand. So the shorts and my shirt went into the bathtub, where they were soaked in all hot water. That killed another large and small one.
We chose to go into town for the rest of that evening.
The next night was our celebration dinner out. It was at the Crystal Dining Room in the Crescent Hotel downtown. Dinner was excellent. The meals come with soup, salad, appetizer, and dessert. I had the Chicken Cordon Bleu, and Dawn had the Alaskan Salmon. Expensive, but very good.
The next day was two hours of fairly strenous hiking on trails that were being used for the Xterra Triathalon. We had soaked ourselves in Off, but must have sweated most of it off. After the hike, we paddled a canoe around Lake Leatherwood. Sunburned and exhausted, we headed back to the cabin to clean up. There was a nice nap, and later, we went for dinner. We went to a Mexican restaurant on Main Street on the way to downtown. There was an hour wait, so we chose a Tex-Mex place that wasn't neaerly as crowded. Maybe not as good, either.
Sunday was the long drive back home, and back to reality.
As wonderful as vacations are, it's always good to get back home. I'm ready for a good night's sleep.
After I double check for scorpions.
So we got to the room, and after quite a bit of information from the owner, we began to relax from the long drive. I laid down on the bed, playing with…I mean, adjusting the bed. It was a Sleep Number bed, and I needed to know what my comfort level was. After ten minutes or so, I got up, and went and sat in the chair.
Dawn looks over at the bed from the other chair where she’s sitting, and notices there is a creature on the bed.
It went something like:
“That’s a weird kind of bug. OH MY GOSH, IT’S A SCORPION!!”
It’s a shame I can’t convey the shivers in her voice, or the mild convulsions on display.
I thought at first, she was mistaken. What would a scorpion be doing on our bed in Eureka Springs? Looking closer, I could see it was a scorpion, alright. About an inch and a half long, it was happily wandering down the edge of the bed, no doubt wondering why I had left the bed for the chair.
I wish I would have thought quickly enough to get its picture to share. But I was still trying to figure out what he was doing there. And, if I didn’t kill it quickly enough, my wife would decide to leave right then for the Holiday Inn. So I knocked it to the floor, and killed it with my hiking boot. It was only after I returned from the bathroom with a wad of toilet paper sufficient to keep me from accidentally sticking myself with the stinger, that I really noticed the color of the carpet.
It was green, and I had noticed that. But it also had plenty of flecks of brown and grey. So it took me a moment to find the dead creature. I say dead because I started to worry that it hadn’t really been dead, but had somehow scampered off under the bed. If that were the case, I would have been joining my wife at the Holiday Inn. I soon found it, a foot or more from where I remember it being, but it was dead.
“I can’t believe it was just crawling around on the bed,” Dawn said. “You were just laying there.”
“Yes, dear,” I thought, “that occurred to me, too.”
Of course, she was pretty unnerved. I played the part of the valiant husband/scorpion killer, and showed her how unworried I was by telling her that there couldn’t be another scorpion in the room. She herself said she had never seen one, so it was unlikely there would be two in the same room. In the back of my mind, however, one word kept rolling through my head.
Infestation.
Great. So now, I would only walk through the room in my shoes, looking with the brightest flashlight I have ever had, checking every square inch of the floor for any more intruders. I would be more than happy to step on any that might be there, but not barefooted.
I’ve been stung by fire ants, a yellow jacket, a red wasp, and even a hornet. I’ve never been stung by a scorpion thankfully.
After a thorough search of the room, including behind the headboard, in the chair cushions, behind the television, heater, chairs, chest, plant and magazine rack, I felt pretty sure we were safe.
The owner had told us about a nature trail that ran down to the lake, and around the property. So we sprayed our feet with Off to keep the chiggers at bay, and headed down. Partway down the trail, there was a small bench. The view of the lake was obscured from there, but it was still pretty. Feeling something crawling on my leg, my mind immediately remembered that word again, but I knew it was likely a fly or mosquito.
So I reached down, and realized it didn’t feel like either. Too small to be a scorpion, I looked down and found the creature crawling up on the finger I had used to brush it off.
“Good,” I thought. “Only a tick.”
“Uhhh…” I said, being the calm leader of our two person group. “That was a tick.”
We continued down the trail, not exactly thrilled with the last two encounters with nature. As we began to walk along a rock bluff, I caught a strange odor. With the first breath, it smelled like some kind of musty algae or fungus. With the second breath, I knew it wasn’t algae or mold. It was something dead. Still undaunted, we continued, where less than a minute later, I spotted what was causing the delightful scent.
It had been a deer at one point it its cycle. I won’t go any further with that.
So back on the porch outside our room, we removed our shoes, finding another large tick. Showers were definitely in order. Two more large ticks and two small ticks later, we felt safe for the moment. Picking my blue jean shorts off the floor to check them more, another one crawled out onto my hand. So the shorts and my shirt went into the bathtub, where they were soaked in all hot water. That killed another large and small one.
We chose to go into town for the rest of that evening.
The next night was our celebration dinner out. It was at the Crystal Dining Room in the Crescent Hotel downtown. Dinner was excellent. The meals come with soup, salad, appetizer, and dessert. I had the Chicken Cordon Bleu, and Dawn had the Alaskan Salmon. Expensive, but very good.
The next day was two hours of fairly strenous hiking on trails that were being used for the Xterra Triathalon. We had soaked ourselves in Off, but must have sweated most of it off. After the hike, we paddled a canoe around Lake Leatherwood. Sunburned and exhausted, we headed back to the cabin to clean up. There was a nice nap, and later, we went for dinner. We went to a Mexican restaurant on Main Street on the way to downtown. There was an hour wait, so we chose a Tex-Mex place that wasn't neaerly as crowded. Maybe not as good, either.
Sunday was the long drive back home, and back to reality.
As wonderful as vacations are, it's always good to get back home. I'm ready for a good night's sleep.
After I double check for scorpions.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
AT&T U-Verse
I hate Charter.
Being a Christian, hate is a term I really shouldn't use. But somehow, "I strongly dislike Charter" just didn't seem to capture the depth.
Two and a half years ago, we moved from Grapevine to North Richland Hills, TX. In Grapevine, I had Verizon FIOS. It was awesome. Fiber directly to the house, incredible speed, and in the two years I had that service, I only had them out twice. Neither time took more than ten or fifteen minutes to fix, and I was back up and running.
North Richland Hills isn't part of Verizon's coverage area. Bummer. In fact, when we moved in, the only company that offered anything other than dish was Charter. I only thought I hated Charter. Finally, one day I saw that AT&T offered U-Verse in our area. I couldn't change over quick enough. And, on top of everything else, they gave us $250 back. It couldn't get any better than that, right?
Wrong.
AT&T came and got everything hooked up, and ten minutes after they left, I turned the TV to one of the music channels. I went to the bedroom, and turned on the same channel, and they both froze. Odd. So I changed one to another channel, and they both came back on.
"Why can't you watch the same channel in two rooms at the same time?" I wondered.
In less than a week, I had my answer. It had nothing to do with what channel it was on. I was all about the fact that U-Verse has an issue with the picture freezing.
"The Cowboys a first down at the Eagle's forty with just over four minutes left."
"And the Eagles cap a successful drive with the extra point, and it's Eagles 21, the Cowboys 14 at the two minute warning."
"What happened?!?"
Getting involved in a Criminal Minds episode, and just at the most exciting part, the picture freezes. It comes back on and they are in their plane, ending the show.
I only thought I hated Charter. Turns out, I was only aggravated at them.
I hate AT&T.
So I call their service department, and, first off, you have to go through one of those stupid auto attendants.
Recording: "I see you are calling from 214-555-1212. Is this the number on your U-Verse account."
Me: "No."
Recording: "Okay. Please give me the phone number associated with your U-Verse account, or you can say, 'I don't have one'."
Me: "I don't have one."
Recording: "Okay. Give me your U-Verse account number, your primary social security number, or the first thirty-seven prime numbers in descending order in Ancient Aramaic."
Me: "I...what?"
Recording: "I'm sorry, that was not a valid response. Please wait while I locate a thirteen year old who is sitting in their living room playing X-box to assist you. Don't worry that they are only thirteen. They won't be able to help you anyway. And thank you for being a valued AT&T customer."
Me:"Great, now I need another cell phone."
So the first guy who came out replaced the connections in the attic, and the connections outside.
"That should fix the problem," he said as he was leaving.
It worked flawlessly for almost an hour.
So we lived with it for a couple more weeks before I called back to go through the same frustrating experience.
The second guy told me he changed out all the connections outside, and in the attic, and my problem should be solved.
I don't think he appreciated the fine art of scoffing I was trying to entertain him with.
"The last guy who came out said he changed out all that stuff," I explained.
"Hmm."
This guy gave me his card, and said the problem should be fixed.
"Call me if it happens again."
So ten minutes later, I dialed his number. He came back out. He said he needed to check the box in the neighbor's yard, and then down the street.
I never saw him again. But it was okay for a week or so.
The third guy who came out replaced the modem. It froze before he ever left. So he also drilled another hole in my wall, and ran a new cable from the outside box to the modem inside.
"Well, that will fix your issue," he assured me.
He also was underimpressed with my scoffing ability, which was becoming quite polished by then.
It froze an hour after he was gone. I called back, and got his voicemail. (surprise). I never heard back.
The next time I mustered the strength to call, I told them in no uncertain terms that the next time I called, I would be telling them their equipment was sitting in a box on my curb, and if they wanted it, they should come get it. That was several months ago.
The problem seemed better in the last couple of months. It only froze once every other day or so, and usually only for a minute or two. Until this last week.
It was out all day, but started working when I got home and reset the modem. Saturday, I reset the modem five times before calling them. They set up a tech to come out between 4 and 9. No one ever showed up, and no one ever called me to tell me they weren't going to show up. They are supposed to be out today between 12 and 4. I'm sure he will replace the connections in the attic, and outside, and tell us it should be fixed.
The next time I take a day off, I'm switching back to Charter. Have I mentioned how much I love Charter?
Compared to AT&T, at least.
Being a Christian, hate is a term I really shouldn't use. But somehow, "I strongly dislike Charter" just didn't seem to capture the depth.
Two and a half years ago, we moved from Grapevine to North Richland Hills, TX. In Grapevine, I had Verizon FIOS. It was awesome. Fiber directly to the house, incredible speed, and in the two years I had that service, I only had them out twice. Neither time took more than ten or fifteen minutes to fix, and I was back up and running.
North Richland Hills isn't part of Verizon's coverage area. Bummer. In fact, when we moved in, the only company that offered anything other than dish was Charter. I only thought I hated Charter. Finally, one day I saw that AT&T offered U-Verse in our area. I couldn't change over quick enough. And, on top of everything else, they gave us $250 back. It couldn't get any better than that, right?
Wrong.
AT&T came and got everything hooked up, and ten minutes after they left, I turned the TV to one of the music channels. I went to the bedroom, and turned on the same channel, and they both froze. Odd. So I changed one to another channel, and they both came back on.
"Why can't you watch the same channel in two rooms at the same time?" I wondered.
In less than a week, I had my answer. It had nothing to do with what channel it was on. I was all about the fact that U-Verse has an issue with the picture freezing.
"The Cowboys a first down at the Eagle's forty with just over four minutes left."
"And the Eagles cap a successful drive with the extra point, and it's Eagles 21, the Cowboys 14 at the two minute warning."
"What happened?!?"
Getting involved in a Criminal Minds episode, and just at the most exciting part, the picture freezes. It comes back on and they are in their plane, ending the show.
I only thought I hated Charter. Turns out, I was only aggravated at them.
I hate AT&T.
So I call their service department, and, first off, you have to go through one of those stupid auto attendants.
Recording: "I see you are calling from 214-555-1212. Is this the number on your U-Verse account."
Me: "No."
Recording: "Okay. Please give me the phone number associated with your U-Verse account, or you can say, 'I don't have one'."
Me: "I don't have one."
Recording: "Okay. Give me your U-Verse account number, your primary social security number, or the first thirty-seven prime numbers in descending order in Ancient Aramaic."
Me: "I...what?"
Recording: "I'm sorry, that was not a valid response. Please wait while I locate a thirteen year old who is sitting in their living room playing X-box to assist you. Don't worry that they are only thirteen. They won't be able to help you anyway. And thank you for being a valued AT&T customer."
Me:
So the first guy who came out replaced the connections in the attic, and the connections outside.
"That should fix the problem," he said as he was leaving.
It worked flawlessly for almost an hour.
So we lived with it for a couple more weeks before I called back to go through the same frustrating experience.
The second guy told me he changed out all the connections outside, and in the attic, and my problem should be solved.
I don't think he appreciated the fine art of scoffing I was trying to entertain him with.
"The last guy who came out said he changed out all that stuff," I explained.
"Hmm."
This guy gave me his card, and said the problem should be fixed.
"Call me if it happens again."
So ten minutes later, I dialed his number. He came back out. He said he needed to check the box in the neighbor's yard, and then down the street.
I never saw him again. But it was okay for a week or so.
The third guy who came out replaced the modem. It froze before he ever left. So he also drilled another hole in my wall, and ran a new cable from the outside box to the modem inside.
"Well, that will fix your issue," he assured me.
He also was underimpressed with my scoffing ability, which was becoming quite polished by then.
It froze an hour after he was gone. I called back, and got his voicemail. (surprise). I never heard back.
The next time I mustered the strength to call, I told them in no uncertain terms that the next time I called, I would be telling them their equipment was sitting in a box on my curb, and if they wanted it, they should come get it. That was several months ago.
The problem seemed better in the last couple of months. It only froze once every other day or so, and usually only for a minute or two. Until this last week.
It was out all day, but started working when I got home and reset the modem. Saturday, I reset the modem five times before calling them. They set up a tech to come out between 4 and 9. No one ever showed up, and no one ever called me to tell me they weren't going to show up. They are supposed to be out today between 12 and 4. I'm sure he will replace the connections in the attic, and outside, and tell us it should be fixed.
The next time I take a day off, I'm switching back to Charter. Have I mentioned how much I love Charter?
Compared to AT&T, at least.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Pate Musueum
So I heard this week that the Pate Museum is closing, and auctioning off cars this weekend.
For those of you who aren't aware, Pate Museum was opened in the late sixties, showing off a collection of cars owned by A.M. Pate (Aggie). He began collecting in the sixties, and continued through most of the eighties, until his death in '88. The Pate Museum was located near Cresson, southwest of Fort Worth on 377.
One of my favorite things to do as a kid was to go to Pate Museum. Back then, the cars weren't the main draw for me. It was the collection of planes, tanks, cannons and other war relics outside. Now that I'm older, I have a deeper appreciation for the cars on display. Inside the buildings, along with the cars, was a small lunar module. That was always pretty cool to look at.
The best thing about Pate (that I probably didn't even know as a kid), is that it was free.
I took my son there once, when he was about eight. Passing along the tradition my father shared with me wasn't quite the hit I had hoped it would be. His favorite thing to do was the periscope. It is inside the lobby, and you can look through it to see the outside. We weren't allowed to climb on or in the tank anymore, which I'm sure he would have enjoyed. The trampoline that my brother and I used to love to play on was also gone.
One of the blogs I read about the museum closing stated that the cars had become dirty, and some were starting to rust. That's unfortunate. But maybe the auctioned cars will find good homes with people who will keep them in the pristine condition I remember them being in.
Pate Museum holds a special place in the our hearts. Thank you Mr. Pate, for allowing so many of us to create so many wonderful memories.
For those of you who aren't aware, Pate Museum was opened in the late sixties, showing off a collection of cars owned by A.M. Pate (Aggie). He began collecting in the sixties, and continued through most of the eighties, until his death in '88. The Pate Museum was located near Cresson, southwest of Fort Worth on 377.
One of my favorite things to do as a kid was to go to Pate Museum. Back then, the cars weren't the main draw for me. It was the collection of planes, tanks, cannons and other war relics outside. Now that I'm older, I have a deeper appreciation for the cars on display. Inside the buildings, along with the cars, was a small lunar module. That was always pretty cool to look at.
The best thing about Pate (that I probably didn't even know as a kid), is that it was free.
I took my son there once, when he was about eight. Passing along the tradition my father shared with me wasn't quite the hit I had hoped it would be. His favorite thing to do was the periscope. It is inside the lobby, and you can look through it to see the outside. We weren't allowed to climb on or in the tank anymore, which I'm sure he would have enjoyed. The trampoline that my brother and I used to love to play on was also gone.
One of the blogs I read about the museum closing stated that the cars had become dirty, and some were starting to rust. That's unfortunate. But maybe the auctioned cars will find good homes with people who will keep them in the pristine condition I remember them being in.
Pate Museum holds a special place in the our hearts. Thank you Mr. Pate, for allowing so many of us to create so many wonderful memories.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Commercials
Am I getting more cynical as I get older? I'm sure I am, but I'm equally as certain that commercials are getting dumber.
Woman 1: "What's the matter, Joan? You don't seem yourself."
Woman 2: "It's this bloating and gas. I just don't feel right."
Woman 1: "You should try"
At this point, Woman 1 pulls out an unopened box of pills and begins to discuss how they made her life all better.
Really? Who carries a brand-new, unopened box of pills in their purse, just in case a friend needs them?
Or, you should call the experts at 800-555-1292. They really helped me.
And you remembered their phone number. That's amazing! I order prescriptions every month, but I have to look up the number each time I call. These people should try out for Jeopardy!
Woman 1: "What's the matter, Joan? You don't seem yourself."
Woman 2: "It's this bloating and gas. I just don't feel right."
Woman 1: "You should try
At this point, Woman 1 pulls out an unopened box of pills and begins to discuss how they made her life all better.
Really? Who carries a brand-new, unopened box of pills in their purse, just in case a friend needs them?
Or, you should call the experts at 800-555-1292. They really helped me.
And you remembered their phone number. That's amazing! I order prescriptions every month, but I have to look up the number each time I call. These people should try out for Jeopardy!
Customer Service?
Whatever happened to customer service?
Watching television the other night, there was a gas station, where an attendant filled the tank, checked the oil, the washer fluid, tires, and cleaned the windshield.
I'm only 44, and I can remember going to the gas station with mom or dad, and the attendant would do all of that, and usually even smile. We never had to get out of the car. I understand in the changing economy, stations aren't able to pay someone to do that anymore. But customer service seems to be dead now.
In the last few years, I have noticed that more and more, I get a waiter or waitress who seems to think I'm there for their benefit. They seem put out if I actually have to ask for a refill. Nevermind that, for the last fifteen minutes, I've been gulping large amounts of spicy food while slurping at the last few drops of watered down coke. If my meal is wrong, I seldom say anything for fear of what will happen to my meal while it is back in the kitchen being fixed.
Since when is the customer wrong for getting the meal the way he or she asked for it?
I'm something of a big tipper. Even if the service is poor, I'll usually leave at least fifteen percent. I've waited tables, and I know it can be long hard hours on your feet, dealing with rude customers, and sometimes hostile kitchen staff or management. And I always give the benefit of the doubt. But there are times that just doesn't work. No matter how I try to justify it, sometimes it just comes down to bad service. If the service is good, I will tip as much as thirty percent. Why?
Because I want to server to know that I appreciated them "putting up with" my special order. So I don't like onions. Isn't it just as easy to leave them out as it is to put them in?
And I can't be the only person receiving this kind of treatment. Why does it continue? Because enough of us don't complain. My thinking used to be that I would just put up with it, not say anything, but never go back. All that does is leave the sorry waiters to the next customer. A successful restaurant will never miss one family.
There is a Mexican restaurant we used to dine at most of the time we had Mexican food. But as time went on, the service got slower, and sloppier, and the quality of food just wasn't good enough to make it worth it. They have closed at least three restaurants that I know of. There is still one in business incredibly. And it is the one closest to where I live now. But I will not step foot in the door. I tried several times, and three different restaurants before giving up on the chain.
Yet, in spite of all of the bad experiences, the continual optimist in me will continue to eat out. And I will continue to hope to get a waiter or waitress who enjoys their job. Someone who will keep an eye on my glass when they pass by, and will bring refills before I'm sucking ice cubes. Someone who understands that I'm spending good money to enjoy a meal out, and that their job is to ensure I get what I pay for. Someone who smiles when they stop by the table, gets the meal out, and makes sure it's right. Someone who makes me feel like they are there to serve me. After all, isn't that what the word "server" means? And when I find that person, I will happily leave a big tip to let them know how much they are appreciated.
Watching television the other night, there was a gas station, where an attendant filled the tank, checked the oil, the washer fluid, tires, and cleaned the windshield.
I'm only 44, and I can remember going to the gas station with mom or dad, and the attendant would do all of that, and usually even smile. We never had to get out of the car. I understand in the changing economy, stations aren't able to pay someone to do that anymore. But customer service seems to be dead now.
In the last few years, I have noticed that more and more, I get a waiter or waitress who seems to think I'm there for their benefit. They seem put out if I actually have to ask for a refill. Nevermind that, for the last fifteen minutes, I've been gulping large amounts of spicy food while slurping at the last few drops of watered down coke. If my meal is wrong, I seldom say anything for fear of what will happen to my meal while it is back in the kitchen being fixed.
Since when is the customer wrong for getting the meal the way he or she asked for it?
I'm something of a big tipper. Even if the service is poor, I'll usually leave at least fifteen percent. I've waited tables, and I know it can be long hard hours on your feet, dealing with rude customers, and sometimes hostile kitchen staff or management. And I always give the benefit of the doubt. But there are times that just doesn't work. No matter how I try to justify it, sometimes it just comes down to bad service. If the service is good, I will tip as much as thirty percent. Why?
Because I want to server to know that I appreciated them "putting up with" my special order. So I don't like onions. Isn't it just as easy to leave them out as it is to put them in?
And I can't be the only person receiving this kind of treatment. Why does it continue? Because enough of us don't complain. My thinking used to be that I would just put up with it, not say anything, but never go back. All that does is leave the sorry waiters to the next customer. A successful restaurant will never miss one family.
There is a Mexican restaurant we used to dine at most of the time we had Mexican food. But as time went on, the service got slower, and sloppier, and the quality of food just wasn't good enough to make it worth it. They have closed at least three restaurants that I know of. There is still one in business incredibly. And it is the one closest to where I live now. But I will not step foot in the door. I tried several times, and three different restaurants before giving up on the chain.
Yet, in spite of all of the bad experiences, the continual optimist in me will continue to eat out. And I will continue to hope to get a waiter or waitress who enjoys their job. Someone who will keep an eye on my glass when they pass by, and will bring refills before I'm sucking ice cubes. Someone who understands that I'm spending good money to enjoy a meal out, and that their job is to ensure I get what I pay for. Someone who smiles when they stop by the table, gets the meal out, and makes sure it's right. Someone who makes me feel like they are there to serve me. After all, isn't that what the word "server" means? And when I find that person, I will happily leave a big tip to let them know how much they are appreciated.
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