I Will Remember

To all the men and women who have given their life for my country -I thank you.

To all the men and women who have served my country, have given up dreams, have moved families and have fought battles - I thank you.

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My Papaw served in WWII in the Philippians as a reconnaissance pilot for the Army; he left a captain. Capt. Leo Petry received the Bronze Star for a heroic mission in which he saved many men's lives.

A large group of soldiers had been surrounded and cut off by ememy forces. They had radioed many times for air support and more supplies. It was a suicide mission for any pilot that volunteered to fly. Once the soldiers began to run out of ammunition my Papaw and one other pilot volunteered to fly in more ammo. On the first run, the second plane took too much ground fire and had to return - my Papaw was flying the gauntlet of gunfire alone. He made it in, dropped off the supplies and made it out without losing the plane. He then made a second trip to drop off more necessary ammo and made it out again. Because of ammo my Papaw delivered - those men were able to fight their way out and many lives were saved. God allowed my Papaw to survive the war and live to tell his grandchildren about it.

I miss you Papaw.

Parking Lot Pajama Party

While visiting the local Dollar Tree the other night I witnessed something I had never seen before. A Parking Lot Pajama Party.

Yep. A full-blown pajama party was taking place right in parking lot. It was complete with junk food, middle school girls, and ducky pajama pants. In spite of looking completely ridiculous, they seemed to be having a lot of fun.

Until I parked in the middle of their party - they were hogging the closest spot to the door. My 626 put an end to their parking lot merriment.

Just Kidding. I laughed at them, wished I had thought of it first, and then parked farther from the door.

When God Laughs at Me

This is an article I wrote for my church's web-site.

I do stupid things. I admit it. There are times when my brain checks out and I am left wandering around making a fool of myself. It is at these times when I know God must be laughing at me; when I would have appeared more intelligent if I had dressed up in an ape suit and begged for bananas instead of doing . These times are small reminders that He is God, and I am not.

I make no claims to being gorgeous; I will leave that and all the headaches that go with it to someone else, but I must admit that there was a day when I thought I looked especially good. I had a new outfit, new hair color and new shoes; I had it all together. I was pondering how good I looked and how many compliments I would get on my stunning new clothes as I was out running errands. I even practiced my I-look-good-and-can-take-on-the-world walk. You know the one. Head held high, arms swinging with purpose, the sideways glances to see who is noticing you. That walk. I was on top of the world.

Well being on top of the world requires a lot of thought about your looks and several sideways glances. These were soon interupted by the plate of glass pressed against my face. Yep, you got it. I good-looking walked right into the exit doors of Kroger. Everyone was looking at me then. At that moment, I knew God was laughing at me, and that little voice inside whispered, "Vanity hurts." Yes, it does, like a banged forehead.

This is just one time that God, in all His irony, took me down a couple notches to where I needed to be. A friend of mine remarked that she had never thought about God having a sense of humor. I figure He must have one, to put up with me and all my quirks. Thankfully, God's brain never checks out, and He never does stupid things like I do. I praise Him for being big enough to handle my struggles in loving and funny ways.

A quote my Mom sent me: "Any girl can be glamorous. All you have to do is stand still and look stupid." ~ Hedy Lamarr. I guess this backs up her point.

A Little Mud Slinging...

"Senator Tim Johnson (D-SD) encouraged Democrats and enraged Republicans at a local campaign rally by saying, "how sweet it's going to be on June 2 when the Taliban wing of the Republican Party finds out what's happened in South Dakota." Comparing Republicans to terrorists is inexcusable, according to Congressman Eric Cantor (R-VA), but the Democrats aren't apologizing. Cantor says, "Once again, the silence coming from the Democratic party ... is deafening. Senator Tom Daschle and the leaders of the Democratic party owe the American public either a rationale for their silence or a clear refutation of these hateful remarks."" ...

Lost in Yonkers

A few years ago my family took a vacation that consisted of visiting family in Philadelphia and then heading up to Bar Harbor, Maine. This was kindof a spur of the moment trip. We had planned on going out west, but because of forest fires in Colorado, we changed our plans. So we didn't really have a planned route to drive, or really any definite time frames of when we were going to get there. Although, my mom made it abundantly clear that we would neither be stopping in, nor driving through New York City. If we had to we would drive from Philly to Maine via Canada to avoid New York. My Mom hates big cities. To her they are dirty, crowded and dangerous. I on the other hand LOVE big cities, especially New York City. It's full of so much excitement, life and energy. I was very disappointed that we were sooooo close to my favorite city, and I wouldn't even get to see it!

Well, in my family when we switch drivers we generally also switch navigators. It isn't a written rule, it just sort of happens. At this time we had 4 drivers in my family, but 6 navigators. You don't have to be of legal age to drive or have any experience driving to navigate. You just have to be able to hold the map right side up. As you can guess directions can get complicated because every navigator has a different idea of how to get there.

So, my brother, seeking to find the most efficient and satisfactory route, suggests that we cut through a corner of New York, hit a different highway and take it up the coast to Maine. It should be really pretty driving along the New England coast and I'll at least get to see New York. Sounds good. We all agree (By we, I mean Mom) and set our bearings for NEW YORK CITY.

There are a couple reasons why this was a bad idea.

1. We hit New York at rush hour. Something about miscalculating the miles between Philly and New York. Funny how much difference there is between a straight line between two points, and the highway systems.

2. They were doing night time construction on the bridge that we had to cross. Apparently in New York night time construction begins when the largest volume of cars are coming out of the city. So that took us an hour to cross.

3. The bridge was a toll bride. My dad hates tolls - they are inefficient wastes of his time and gas. Yeah, heard about that for the whole hour. We did come up with a better way to run the tolls though. I'll tell you for $100.

So by the time we cross the bridge it's late. Way later than it should have been. We were not making it to Maine that night. To make matters worse, in the chaos of road construction, we miss our exit. Grrr.

We exit, turn around and start heading back. Only the construction is worse on this side of the road and we are getting directed back across the bridge. CRAP. All the members of my family probably wouldn't survive another trip across that bridge. And my Dad sure wasn't paying toll again. Exit again, get back on, look for highway.

We didn't miss it the first time. No. It doesn't exist. Oh the map says it does, but what are maps really? Conspiracies of cartographers. Those sick people get joy out of mapping roads that don't exist.

So our new navigator suggests we exit and just take "back roads" to our highway. This could be challenging since we only have a road atlas and no street map of New York. Oh well. How hard can it be? We start our back road journey in White Plains. Apparently the "back roads" of White Plains don't really lead to anywhere besides other parts of White Plains. It was like we were stuck in some horror story, where all the roads lead back to the murder scene. Except we didn't see any murders.

We decide to stop and ask for directions. Gas station attendants should be helpful, but New York gas station attendants are not. No, they don't even know the name of the freakin' street they are on, much less how to get anywhere. Cursed public transportation. See in Ohio, most gas station attendants don't really know what street you are looking for, because us Buckeyes like to change the name of a street 3, 4, or 5 times in 1.5 miles. But they will do their gas stationly duty, pretend they know exactly what street you need, make up some directions and send you on your way. New York attendants instead ask you to repeat the name of the street their gas station is on to better commit it to memory.

We left two attendants mulling over street names and tried to find a way out of New York on our own. We managed to get out of White Plains into Yonkers. Great. Now we are lost in Yonkers. At this point it's about 1 am and I'm driving. My mom asks me what the sign we just passed said.

"Welcome to the Bronx."

It might as well have said "Welcome to your death." because at this point we were wondering if we would ever make it out alive. But, wait. Is that a green highway sign we see? I turn the van to investigate, and realize the sign might as well have said "Welcome to your death." for I had just turned down a road that looked like a very good place to rob and kill a lost family.

Burned out cars lined one side of this dead-end street, a junk yard occupied the other side, and the lone street light stood at the end of the street at the entrance to a very shady looking bar.

"Don't stop the van." My dad ordered. "When you get to a nice place, pull over. I'm driving."

Fine. Like this was my fault.

I bust a Uie out of the death street, pull over, switch drivers and keep searching for a way out. By some miracle we find our way out of the Bronx, into New Jersey and crash in a hotel. Thus, ending the night we got Lost in Yonkers.

Go check out Bethany Dillon. She's awesome, and from my state!

Extreme Card Games

Ok I want to tell the Bearded Wedding Story, but it really would be told best with visuals. So anyone out there who knows how to post pictures... drop me a line (if I knew how to link e-mail's I would do that too.) andicandi@juno.com

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So instead I will enlighten you on the dangers of playing spoons.

First the rules of spoons:
1. The object of the game is to get 4 of the same cards. 4 of the same number or face cards. You pass cards around until you get 4 of a kind. Normally there isn't a whole lot of structure to this part... just cards getting thrown around.

2. Ok, so I lied. The real object of the game isn't to get 4 of a kind. You really just want to get a spoon after someone else gets 4 of a kind. Since there is one less spoon than people... fights are encouraged.

3. It is extremely important to put the spoons, not in the middle of the people playing, that's how pansies play spoons, but at a distant location. Up-stairs, down the hall, in an elevator, outside, etc... are good locations. This way everyone will have to work for their spoon. Hey life is hard - suck it up. Once again... fights are encouraged.

4. If you don't get a spoon - you get a letter. As soon as you spell S-P-O-O-N-S you are out and get to take a complimentary spoon with you. Depending on the arrangements, you may have to give the spoon back. If it's a nice spoon I would recommend slipping it in your bag and "forgetting" about it until you get home. Wash it before using it - it may have touched someone's foot.

Spoons should be played only by extremely bored and slap-happy people. Or I guess drunk people could play too... but that's up to them. This way any physical harm that is incurred will only be seen has roll-on-the-floor-laughing funny, and not actually harmful.

Example: .....laughter.....breathe...."Did you see Joe fall down....hehehehe... the stairs?.... that's freakin' hilarious".... breathe....
(Joe would laugh, but his cracked ribs make it too painful)

I was playing spoons one time and the spoons had been strategically placed at the top of the stairs. I finally got 4 of a kind and jumped up to race after my spoon, when someone grabbed my ankle. I spun around to get free. Apparently my elbow decided to take it's time in turning around. Stupid elbow. It managed to appear just in time to pop Ryan in the nose.

That guy is a superb Spoons player. He made it to the top of the stairs, got a spoon and didn't get any blood on the carpet. You are my hero Ryan.

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Check out Hoover's Blog. It's probably the funniest thing I have ever read.

My Family Sings in Whale

Yes. My family sang "Happy Birthday" to me in whale. (See finding Nemo if you have no clue how to speak whale.) I love my goofy family.

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My Papaw was a very funny guy. This is another great story about him that happened before my time, while my mom was still in school.

They lived on a fairly busy road. Well busy for New Paris, anyway. One day Papaw was out mowing his lawn and had taken his shirt off. It wasn't too long after he started on the front yard that a car driving by slammed on their brakes and almost fish-tailed off the road. Papaw had no clue why until my Mamaw yelled out the door, "Leo, you look naked."

He indeed did look naked, mowing his grass in beige shorts.

He got a huge kick out of that and I'm sure all of New Paris did as well.

Reasons

Here are the reasons why I don't drink:

1. Most people I know who had "just one drink", just for fun, took it too far. I don't think it's worth the risk.

2. People are always watching. I don't know who around me may be stuggling with alcohol. I don't want to be the stummbling block that makes it harder.

3. I see no reason to start. Yeah, none at all.

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This is perhaps my favorite story about my Mamaw and Papaw Petry. I don't remember how exactly my Mamaw told it but it went something like this:

"Leo was real independent you know. He would always wait until the last minute to ask me to go out on Fridays. Well I got real tired of that. So one Friday night I went out with his best friend (this friend also borrowed my Papaw's car to take her out). Well let me tell you... Leo never waited until the last minute to ask me out again. Sometimes a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."

Amen Mamaw, Amen.

My Papaw was slated to get out of the Army one month after Pearl Harbor was bombed. He and my Mamaw married and two months later he was shipped out to the Phillipines. They didn't see each other for two years. They were married 60 years.

I'm 21!!!!

Well my birthday today was wonderful. I had lots of great friends call me and e-mail me wishing me a happy birthday. I even got a call from Eeyore, and I got the world's largest b-day card!

So people have asked me if I am going to drink now. The answer is no. I'll post my reasons later, but right now I am too tired.

Rain...

It rained last night and I put my car windows up. Aren't you proud of me?

So tomorrow I turn 21. But I think tomorrow is going to be a crappy day. I work, then go take a big test, then turn in that project from hell, then study for another big test, go to Crosswalk, and then study some more. My mom is upset that I won't be home on my birthday - I'm upset I'll be studying all day on my birthday. Such is life....

So send me gifts.

Team Rules

I hate working on projects in teams. You always have to stress that someone won't carry their weight, and you'll get screwed. So here are a few rules for everyone working on teams:

1. Represent yourself truthfully. If you are going to be a slacker, make that obvious at the start. That way everyone can know up front that they will have to pick up your slack. Also, if you are going to be anal - well I am sure that will come out right away and we can just assign you all the finishing work. Do not pretend to be anal and then become a slacker - that is justifiable homicide.

2. If something goes wrong do not wait until the day the project is due to tell someone. Call us. Even if it is at 2 am! Maybe we can try and fix the problem, or at least start thinking of really good excuses.

3. If you are asking the professor for an extension of the deadline because the project will not be finished in time - tell the other group members. Even if you have to call them at 2 am.

I can't wait for this project to be finished. Thank goodness for nice profs who extend deadlines. Now if I can make it through the week without hurting some group members...

If I Have To Share...

My brother, when he was about 4 yrs old, was preparing to enjoy a popcicle. This was one of those popcicles that were two popcicles frozen together, so you could break it apart for double the frozen goodness. Getting to eat both sides of the popcicle was always a treat - unfortunatly the even number of us kids (4) always required us to share. It was a big day when we got to eat both popcicles, almost as big as getting our own fry or drink at McDonald's.

It was the last popcicle and Nate was instructed to share it with Bryan. He, like any other self-respecting greedy kid would, argued against this. But my parent's didn't raise no selfish kids. We were taught to share with others and not to eat snacks in front of people without sharing.

So Nate, realizing he can't get out of having to share, promptly walked over to the trash can and threw the popcicle away. Problem solved.

In a large family, you find the loop holes in rules fairly quickly.

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Amberly opened the door and almost got into a stranger's car yesterday. I was laughing too hard to tell her that it wasn't mine.

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I know people read this blog. How do I know this? You call me, e-mail me, and IM me to comment about a story that is put on here. But do you ever leave a comment on the blog? No. Please start leaving comments, or I will post all your dirty little secrets up here.

Sean got in my car yesterday made this infuriating comment:

"Andi, there is something goopy on your door handle. I think it might be from that stuff they spread all over your car."

AHHHHH!!!!! I CAN'T WIN!

I'm So Confused..But So Awake!

If you have never been white water rafting - you should go. It is tons of fun! It's the adrenaline rush of knowing that you have braved nature's fury and survived. It's the sheer terror and excitement of going underwater and hoping you come back up. It's the exhaustion of spent energy trying to stay afloat. And that's just the lazy river float, wait til you get out on the real river where arm floaties are not allowed.

No seriously, rafting is a lot of fun. I've been twice and loved it! I'm hoping to go again this summer. The last time I went I had a blast! I went with some great people down to the New River in West Virginia (yes I keep ending up in that state).

It was on that trip that the best quote ever was said:
"I'm so confused....but so awake."

We had just returned to the house we were staying in after a full day of rafting. We were so tired! Since I was driving, I made a point to take a nap. You know those times when you are so tired, that even waking up is too much work? You end up just saying stupid things that make sense in your head, but not to anyone else? Yeah I was that tired.

Well I was naping when some people come in to wake me up - it was time to leave to see the 4th of July fireworks. One of the people who were waking me up was Matt. This for some reason confused me and the thought process in my head went something like this:

There is a guy in my room.
There wasn't a guy in here when I went to sleep.
He's not supposed to be here.
It doesn't make sense that he's in here.
He must not be in the room and I am just imagining it.
I'm going to go back to sleep.

At this point I realize that I have been talking for quite some time now. I've been carrying on a conversation with Tammy, the other person in the room. I have no idea what I have been saying, or what I am saying to her now. I forget about the "imaginary" guy in my room and focus on Tammy.

She keeps telling me something about how I need to get up, and people are waiting to leave, and I just keep asking stupid questions that make no sense. In desperation I blurt out, "I am so confused."
Tammy offers to let me wake up more and then come back and talk to me. I get mad at this and respond with,
"But I'm so awake."
And continue my nonsense babbling.

It was then that I figured out that Matt was in my room and I wasn't imagining him, because he fell over in laughter at the foot of my bed.

I wish I could remember what other things I said.

Showers of Blessings

I left my sunroof open Thursday night. Not all the way open - it doesn't slide back anymore because it's broken. Which is good because it used to slide open, but not closed. I discovered this one really cold winter day. For some reason I opened my sunroof and then realized it wouldn't shut. That was one bitterly cold drive home. My brother's broke the sunroof even more so that now it just tilts open.

It rained Thursday Night. Crap. My seats were damp, not wet, but damp, which means my butt was damp. Gross. And my car smelled like big nasty butt. (My damp butt didn't cause this smell, but the damp seats sitting in the sun did.) You know how you are supposed to leave the wrappers on car air freshers for like 3 weeks? Well who wants to hang an air freshener with a wrapper on it in their window? That is just all kinds of un-cool. I want my strawberry scented leaf to be seen in all it's coolness. But if you open the air freshner all the way - the smell is overpowering. I mean like stuff-the-air-freshner-under-the-seat-and-stick-your-head-out-the-window overpowering. So to eliminate the nasty butt smell I open an air freshner and drive with my head out the window.

I left my sunroof AND my back window open last night. Yeah - it rained again. So now my car reeks.

That reminds me of the time I went to Dallas for One Day and stay with a friend of a friend named "Bling, Bling the Wonder Monkey." Yeah I dunno what I was thinking either. But he was nice enough to pick me up from the airport and let me stay at his parent's house. He had just gotten a new car and was really worried about the storm coming through. But he didn't have a garage to keep his car in, so there really wasn't much he could do. This was a bad storm though - the thunder shook cars enough to set off alarms, and a tornado touched down fairly close to where One Dayers were camping. As it turns out Bling Bling didn't have to worry about trees falling on his car, he should have thought more about shutting the sunroof. That was one, long, wet car ride.

BTW, I never paid Bling Bling for gas for that. Sorry. If you are reading this Bling Bling, drop me a line.

The Lure of West Virginia

If you ever get an itch to travel, West Virginia is the place to go. I've been there several times - there is something about that hilly land that draws me to it. It calls me to come; and unknowingly I go.

My first experience with this call occurred on a small little road trip Amberly and I were taking. Our destination was Tick Ridge in Galapolis, Ohio. Most people who live there drive trucks, are missing teeth and are named Bobby Sue. We were going down to ride Amberly's Aunt and Uncle's 4-wheelers.(Amberly's relatives have all their teeth.) The 4-wheeling turned out to be a really fun time, except for the part when the 4-wheeler died and we realized we didn't know how to get back, and when Amberly hit 5 trees and bruised her rib and gave me whiplash.

Anyway, in the course of arguing over which CD to listen to, we somehow missed the little one-lane road we were supposed to turn onto. We kept driving and driving and soon saw large bridges. They looked cool and we commented on how neat it is to come over a hill and see all the grand bridges, then we realized we were crossing the Ohio River - into West Virginia. Crap. We were lost.

That's West Virginia trip # 1.

The second time occurred when Justin and I decided to leave a retreat early so we could go to Apex and Salsa dance class. We hit the road and soon were engrossed in a conversation about what song contained the phrase "You captured my heart again." (Casting Crowns song, Your Love is Extravagent - excellent CD)

After a while (45 min) Justin asks if it seems like we had been driving a long time. We pass a sign for Vienna and I thought that that town sounded familiar. (This was because had gotten a million brochures for a college down there, not because we drove through it on the way to the retreat.) I pull out the map to check where we are, right when Justin goes, "OH CRAP."

A large bridge with a "Welcome to West Virginia" sign was our first clue we weren't in Kansas anymore Toto.

Apparently we were supposed to go North on the interstate instead of South. Oops. At least it was a nice day and our 1 hour detour was spent counting roadkill (we saw 2 dogs, a fox, a couple deer, a possum and some raccoons) and enjoying the scenery.

Did you know in West Virginia they offer car washes for Duallys?

Old, Comfy Shoes

You know those shoes that you just LOVE? They fit your feet so well that you will never give them up? No matter how much they fall apart, or how many friends you lose because of their stench - you will never throw them away.

You've tried new shoes, and they work for a while, but they can be stiff and cause blisters. You really just long for your old, comfy shoes. When you put them on, you are home. Happy and contented - your feet belong in those shoes.

New shoes can become old, comfy shoes. It just takes a while. There are some blisters, scuffs and dirt, but after a while they become old, comfy shoes. But not every shoe can be an old, comfy shoe - just the right ones given lots of time and wear.

Friends are like shoes. You have those who are nice, and you enjoy hanging out with, but they aren't old and comfy. Then there are those friends who just fit - the world could end, but if you were together you wouldn't notice because you are home when you are with them.

An old, comfy friend is coming home this weekend and I am so very excited!

Why My Car is Dirty

I would like to give a shout out to all the people who covered my car in Spam and Vasaline in October. The greasy concotion that originally covered my windows and door handles slowly spread to the ENTIRE CAR! It really had an efficient way of spreading too. When I originally tried to remove the Spam and Vasaline, it had frozen to my car. But that's ok because the warm fall days warmed it up and allowed it to melt and run down my car.

I really appreciate it - I never had any need for Rain-X and my paint was protected by a nice coat of petroleum jelly. This stuff was great - it wouldn't come off no matter how many times I washed the car. All winter I battled this blob that was ingesting my car, but to no avail. It would look like I had gotten all of it off, when another warm day would hit and more goop would melt out of the cracks of my car.

So today it was 87 and I figured that all the Spam Jelly had melted down my car and it was a prime time to wash the car and win this battle once and for all.

I hate washing cars. I never can get it right.

I either use too much soap, and leave a soapy film on it, or too little soap and leave a sheen of dirt. Either way I lose.

I know you are supposed to wash your car in the shade, so the sun doesn't dry it too quickly, but that defeats the primary purpose of washing your car - to get a sun tan. So I am washing my car and it looks like I might win against the Spam Jelly. But no, I turn my back to pick the hose up and the freakin soap dried onto the car! 2 sec. It was literally 2 seconds. How does it do that? I think my car hates me.

So I do the wash-the-car-before-it-dries dance: wash, rinse, dry.... move down and wash, rinse, dry... For the whole car.

I try not wash my car very often, because it only accentuates the paint chips, dents and rust spots. But this time it isn't the paint chips that are extremely obvious, it is the glare of grease on all the windows.

WHAT THE CRAP! I'm not going to be able to see out the windows like that! Maybe there was grease on the shammy, but I think the blob is still winning. I got most of it off the windshield, and I'll just keep the other windows down. Next time I'm at the gas station I'll use one of those nasty squeegees and clean them, I think it'll work better.

I hate washing my car.

The worst part about it all is that I didn't even get a tan today.

1 out of 26 are discriminated against

Have you ever noticed that "g" has suddenly become a socially taboo letter to say? Everybody who's anybody drops the "g" at the end of words.

Example:
Going = goin' (or in some circles "gonna")
Talking = talkin'
Smoking = smokin'

And so on. It's just not cool to say "g" anymore, unless of course it is in the context of "Whatup G?" But that's a whole different topic. I mean if someone said to you "We are going to be chilling at Andi's house while waiting for Tamara." You would either look at them and think they are either: a. socially inept and have no clue how to speak. b. english c. homeschooled or d. you may just skip all of those and let you brain filter out the nonsense and allow you to hear "We're gonna go chill at Andi's while waitin for Tamara."

Well I for one am tired of "g" getting dropped. There are 26 words in the alphabet, why pick on "g"? Why does "g" bear the brunt of our linguistic discrimination. Why not just leave "e" out of things? Why does it get to be the most used letter? We should take pride in our "g's" and speak them with clarity.

All those who are with me in this fight for our letter "g" stand strong! Speak your "g's" with force and dignity. And lav "e" out of vrything.

Coming Soon

To a blog near you....

The Lure of West Virginia.

Random Quote from a guy on the Quad:

"I am never going to wear big, long-sleeve shirts when it is hot. But at least I brought deodorant."

I Don't Get It

68-year-old, Carole Mehlman, a Tampa, FL resident on why she attended the April 24th Pro-abortion march in D.C.:

"I just had to be here to fight for the next generation and the generation after that."

The Raccoon Story

Now for the famed Raccoon Story.

All animal lovers please stop reading, this will get graphic.

The story begins at my home. I live on a small farm, in the countryish. I say countryish because we are only 15 min from everything, the mall, the grocery, school, everything. But we have a goat, sheep, occasionally chickens, dogs, cats etc.... so I live on a small farm.

Now enter this guy, who for security reasons I will just call "Matt". He was over at my house one night when my dad walks in and says, "There's a raccoon outside."

Now this is a fairly common occurrence in the countryish area. Though I suppose due to lack of natural predators and the elimination of their natural habitat, raccoons have adapted and become urban dwellers, frequently being found in the city and suburbs.

But anyway, this raccoon was sick. Like rabid looking sick. And it's in our backyard. Obviously, not a good situation.

Just so you know, we don't call animal control in the countryish area. There are too many animals to have them keep coming out. We just handle the situations ourselves. Take the stray dog to the pound ourselves, chase off the chicken eating raccoons ourselves.... etc.

We had no help in this situation, we were on our own. Like the pioneers who fought off cougars and bears, we too would have to protect our house and home!

So, my brother in all heroic majesty suggests "Matt" kill the rabid raccoon with a baseball bat. This would put the animal out of its misery, and solve the problem of a rabid raccoon in our yard. I'm still not sure if my brother was joking or not, but "Matt" agreed to do it.

My whole family, redneck style, stood outside and cheered "Matt" on. When I say cheer, I literally mean cheer. Not the little voicing of "Yeah!!" but I'm talking chanting "Matt, Matt, Matt." over and over again.

I don't think "Matt" really knew what think of the whole thing. He kept asking "Are you sure you want me to do this?" As if it was a strange request or something. My sister made the mature observation that "Matt" had touched the bat last, so he had to do it. My family cheered him on even more.

It only took one swing.

We were safe once again!

Glad You Aren't Beautiful

Now for a more serious blog entry.

I would like to share a nugget of wisdom my mother shared with my sister and I. Now, so that you understand, my parent’s nuggets of wisdom are not normal nuggets like “Be nice to all the children.” or “Always brush your teeth.” They normally had a slightly harsher package such as “When you fall, put your hands down; did you think your face would catch you?” and “When you run off from your mother like that you are going to fall down an escalator. Quit crying.”

Now before you think my parents were unloving ogres who got pleasure out of their children’s pain, let me assure you they were not. I don’t know of any parents that were more loving than mine. They were just in favor of tough-love – it built character.

Anyway, this particular nugget was given to me when I was in Jr. High and my sister was in 5, or 6th grade. My mom comes in our room, sits down on the bed and says,

“I’m glad you two girls aren’t beautiful.”

Since that was a logical way to start a conversation, I responded with,

“WHAT!!!”

“You know, you girls aren’t drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Thanks Mom, I was hoping you would come in here and tell us we are ugly.”

“Oh I don’t think you girls are ugly, you just aren’t gorgeous. You’re pretty, just not gorgeous.”

Sarah jumps in now with, “Mom is there a point to this?”

“Yes, see since you girls aren’t beautiful, things in life won’t just be handed to you based on your looks. You’ll have to work for the things you get in life.”

Great, no free rides for us, we were just promised a life of hard work. I was feeling pretty happy about my life at this point. But my Mom wasn’t finished.

“And by working hard,” She continued, “You will appreciate the things you do get more. It will make you both better women. So be glad you aren’t beautiful.”

At this point the conversation was pretty much over, and I think Sarah and I learned a valuable lesson that day. For even though my Mom had an interesting way of sharing that with us, I must say she is right. I see people who do have things given to them because of looks, or talent, or money or whatever. Normally they are very shallow people – because hard work has not dug any depth into their soul. So yeah, I think that in the long run, average looking people do have it better off.

Today I went to church, and at my church coffee is served. Well normally coffee is served, but today we ran out and the coffee worker had neglected their post. So I decided to pitch in, help out and make some coffee. Now I have only used the coffee machine once, and that was back in February. But I was confident I could remember, I mean common.... how hard is it to make coffee?

Well they switched coffee beans on me, and on top of that I couldn't remember how much coffee makes a large pot. So 6 oz. sounded about right. I measured it all out, put it all together, and started the coffee process.

I think I made the worst coffee ever.

For one it had to have been strong, since it was almost black, and two it didn't smell like coffee. There was an aroma not unlike a baby's diaper in that room.

But church had started so I set the pot "unique" coffee out, so that 60 cups of my creation could be "enjoyed."

It wasn't until half way through the service that I realized the diaper smell could have been connected with my coffee. Then I figured I probably should have tasted it before I subjected all of Apex to it. By then it was too late.

So sorry to all Apexers who received a cup of the worst coffee ever.

I'll do better next time! I promise!

Tips for picking up girls

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For all you guys out there, here are some observations and tips for picking up girls:

1. Shower before hitting on a girl. Being covered from head to toe in dirt does not make you look manly, just dirty.

2. Quoting Strong Bad as the only form of communication does not endear you to the ladies. While it does show off your amazing memorization capability, it allows few oppurtunities for the girl to speak. Commenting on the sci-fi marathon doesn't help your chances either.

3. Cancer sticks, i.e. cigarettes, disqualify you immediately.

*****

Just a thought: College groups in churches should be more than a college age youth group.