You are visitor number:

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Dangerous Territory

My oldest daughter has now entered dangerous territory; middle school. It makes me a little nervous what she will be exposed to. Admittedly, it makes her a bit nervous too. She is most worried about not knowing anyone in her classes. While several of her friends from elementary school are also attending the same middle school, none of them are in her homeroom or classes. Scary.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel, however. Everyday, she comes home with an improvement in attitude toward her new school. Like any of us, it is taking Meredith a bit of time to feel at home, somewhere new. With every passing day, the dangerous new territory becomes a bit more familiar to her, and perhaps to me as well. I have to be careful not to pass my anxieties on to her. Of course, her fears of middle school are very different from my fears, but still just as real.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

By the Author of....

A friend of mine in Sunday School has just written a book. Skip owns a mortgage company and in his spare time (I assume things are a bit slow these days) wrote a book about the finer points of finding the right mortgage. It will be on Amazon sometime next week (seriously).

Anyway, it occurred to me how much I would love to write a book, but frankly, can never find the time. I barely hack out this nonsense every week. Nonetheless, to mention that you were a published author would make for some kick-butt dinner conversation. It certainly beats my current dialogue about once having eaten kangaroo. But that story is best left to another entry.

I think that I do have some literary talent, but it never extends further than a title. The rest is much to much like... work, or something. So, if I were to ever write my masterpiece, here are a few title options to consider:

"The Absence of Being"- This could be one of those deep, thoughtful books which nobody ever really reads all the way through. Could become a movie with Gwyneth Paltrow.
"A Candle For Albert"- Either a children's story about a one year old's birthday, or the death of an Uncle.
"Saving Mrs. Doubtfire"- Robin Williams visits southern France.
"An Egg Story"- This is a challenge I threw out to Jay Kirk some months back... still looking for his interpretation of this story.
"Dunderheads"- Either a story of an ill-fitted band of soldiers or, perhaps, one of those team sports novels.
"When Your Boss is a Hick; and Other Rhyming Words"- enough said.
"Cook Like You Mean It"- A cookbook for men who want to be studly and refined.
"Falling On Beanbags"- I'm just not sure about this one...
"This Solitary Man- The Life Of Stringbean Wilson"
"With Benefits"- Teen coming of age book.
"Fit"- Just one of those words with multiple meanings which could easily be woven into a story. Well, easily if I wanted to get past the title alone.

What would be the title and topic of your novel?

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Bigfoot in Georgia

Yesterday, I read a titillating story (word still makes me giggle) about two men who found Bigfoot's dead body in Georgia. While I was saddened by the prospect that this elusive creature was finally dead, the apparent victim of a stray bullet, I also wondered what type of adventures he may have faced while making his way from the northern California to the deep south. And why would he go to Georgia? Was he visiting relatives? Vacationing, perhaps? It's far more likely, given his age, he was retiring, tired of his life of running from weirdos with shaky 8 millimeter cameras.

As for me, my life has been filled with Bigfoots for as long as I can remember. As I recall, like many of you, my first exposure to Bigfoot was on Leonard Nimoy's, In Search Of. I remember having watched that episode on a Sunday night, hardly sleeping at all. After all, when Mr. Spock describes a large, hairy creature wandering the woods, most 5 year old are going to listen. Years later, Jack Black (explicit) wrote a song about that episode, having apparently affected him as well.

Some of my favorite "Bigfoots" include:

1) The giant pickup truck that can crush a car by running over it. There have been times on I-40 that I would have loved to have been in that truck.

2) The fat, barefoot guy in one of my classes my freshman year in college. We called him Sasquatch behind his back. His cracked, flaking feet were disgustingly dirty.
3) Shaquille O'Neal- size 21 shoe.

4) The world's largest cowboy boots, outside of a mall in Dallas, TX.

5) My late, great-grandfather, Granddaddy Green. His feet were not that big, but his toe-nails were long and yellow. Probably much like Bigfoot himself.

6) I seem to recall that Rick Stillwell had large feet. I know that his younger brother, Jeff, did.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

I have just returned from a week in Mexico City, Mexico. I have to say, I had a better time than I thought I would. Although I was there on business, I did enjoy seeing the impressive Museo Nacional de Antropologia and a bit of Palanco, a district within the city. The Mexicans are very gracious and I always felt welcomed, everywhere I visited. They never made me feel bad for not speaking the language. Unlike my experiences with the French or, for that matter, the English. They just don't speak "mer'ican" over there.

Mexico City is the second largest city in the world (by population, 23 million), and as you would expect in a third-world economy, it has its share of poverty. Having stayed in Palanco, it was only on my ride to the airport on Saturday morning that I was exposed to a bit of the squalor. Prostitution, homelessness, under nourished children. Hey, not unlike some areas here. In fact, it has become evident to me that the type of poverty you would expect to see in Mexico or any poor country, is the same poverty you could find in the United States. Not the same scale, mind you, but certainly the same degree.

And so, being the enlightened Westerner that I am, I contributed some extra to Mexico's struggling economy. At the airport I tipped my young shoe-shiner an extra 30 pesos and hopped on my airbus to the states, conscience freshly polished.

I'll speak for myself here: I do not do enough for the needy, here or abroad. And I'll bet you 100 pesos (10 US bucks), that for what you have, you don't either.