EXCUSES ARE LIKE ARMPITS . . .

Be gentle on me, oh merciful mouse-potato, for I swear to you I planned on blogging for the duration of Wednesday night. Striving for blogging excellence, I had promised once-a-day posting. Was it my fault that God had other plans?

Let me explain. . .

THE STORM
As the previous post explains, I was working late in HQ. My wholehearted intention -- rush home, plug in laptop, illegally access neighbor's wireless internet, and blog the night away.

But then my plan snagged. At 7:10, the building went dark (Except for Her). Without the benefit of a radio, I watched the storm roll in. At 7:30, I finally decided to risk the trek home, not knowing that to do so I would have to travel through the eye of the hurricane.

Usually this journey takes 70 minutes. Click here to see a Mapquest of my usual route home. This would put me home at 9 o'clock latest. Plenty of quality blog-time.

I headed Eastward on 270, but at Lilac, traffic dead stopped. I waited 20 minutes before losing patience. KMOX reported that three trucks had been overturned on the Chain of Rock Bridge--a.k.a--my only way across the Mississippi River.

My first alternative--head south down Lilac and cross at a downtown bridge. Fifteen minutes into this plan, KMOX reported that the storm was ravishing downtown as well, with three more trucks being overturned on the Poplar Street Bridge. To boot, literal bricks were raining onto the Eades Bridge. Heading downtown suddenly seemed like a poor option.

So I took a left, ending up on Riverview Drive. "I'll just drive north until I see a bridge," I told myself, unaware of the terrain.

I drove through the center of the inflicted areas, Spanish Lake being the hardest hit. I've never seen so much damage first-hand. Limbs and leaves strewn everywhere, spot flooding . . . I must've seen ten or more trees leaning across powerlines. Buildings torn apart, and neighbors were standing in their front lawns, dumbfounded as to where to begin (the storm was downtown now).

On two occasions I actually had to drive underneath trees that were snapped across the road, and leaning on the opposite side's power lines.

Finally, at 9:20, I reached Alton. "I'll just take 140 home to Vandalia," I told myself. . . Wrong plan.
Every city along the way had been brutalized by the storm.

THE LOWLIGHT--THE TRIANGLE
At one point, a police officer informed me that powerlines and trees were blocking 140. He sugggested that I "take a left here, and then go for a mile or two, and you'll find this country road. Take a right on that, and go down about a mile or two, and then take another right. Eventually you'll come back to 140, . Just take a left and you're on your way."

Simple plan, right? So, following directions, I go down a about a mile, take a right, drive for another mile or two, take another right, and then I'm driving for about five minutes, looking for 140. . . and I see that traffic is stopped coming from the other way . . . though my way is surprisingly clear.

I drive past the stopped traffic, and then notice a police officer taliking to each of the stopped cars . . . It was the same officer!!! I had done a triangle instead of a square, and ended up heading westbound back on 140.

Aargh!

EDWARDSVILLE?
At this point, I hit 159 South to Edwardsville, catch up to 270, and head to Vandalia. But I hadn't eaten yet, and I see a McDonalds that still has power (a rarity) so I decide to stop. . . . Seeing how this was the only oasis with power in the entire area, I had to wait 40 minutes for a Big & Tasty, and a medium fry.

Finally, with a sigh of relief I was able to get back onto 270 Eastbound, . making it bto Vanandalia at 11:10. Three-and-a-half hours to get home. . . So I beg of you, oh mouse-potato, be merciful to me for not having the energy to blog.


Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

The Beast Has Eyes

Many people think that Wednesday night's storm in St. Louis was induced by the heat. I have evidence to the contrary.

In an earlier post, I've talked about the new time clocks at UPCI HQ that require hand scans. Many believe this is just the first step towards the need for Tim LaHaye's Tribulation Force--the Mark of the Beast. Up until now, I've been skeptical . . . but now I can see that the Beast is alive.

SHE'S ALIVE
As of Monday, this new clock has been plugged in, greeting employees ominously as they enter the building. Oh sure, we still use the old thoroughly-Apostolic timeclock, swiping our timecards in Jesus name. But all the while, . . nearby She beckons . . .

"--ENTER ID--," She coos.

Though noone in the building has, as of yet, been bold enough to receive the Mark, Her time is coming. She has a holographic silver underbelly which seductively entices the hand to touch. Many times I've found myself placing my right hand upon Her plastic pegs, toying with the thought of Her convenience. "Swiping can be so exhausting," I tell myself. ". . . all I have to do is place my hand here, and I can get paid? It's sooo easy . . ." but we all know the outcome of that story, don't we.

THE STORM
So Wednesday night, I was in HQ when "The Storm of 2006" hit. All night long I could feel Her drawing power from the atmosphere, but I didn't want to say anything. . . That would sound crazy.

But then there was a pop! All of the computers suddenly exhaled their last breath of the night as the power crashed. The building was black . . . except for Her. I rubbed my eyes for sanity's sake, but the vision remained the same. Everywhere darkness, but in the foyer, just inside the entrance to the building, there was one little light. It was Her! Calling me to touch her . Unfazed by the ravaging winds, Her siren's call remained the same, . . . "--ENTER ID--," she cooed.

It's a good thing I don't know my ID or I'd be doomed for sure. Unaffected by the storm, She was its source. But I can't prove a thing. All we can do is wait until Her damage gets out of control . . . Then I'll say, "I warned you. . . "

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

Beautiful Babies

As an Editorial Designer for Toddler curriculum, I am always on the hunt for pictures of kids under four in action. On Tuesday night, a friend showed me the website to Amber Kennell, an excellent photographer in Central Illinois who does miracles with this age group. For a peek at precious, check out he Web site.


Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

CARDINAL SIN

Ever wonder what the St. Louis Cardinal’s bullpen does during their baseball games. I found out . . . the hard way. . .

As of last Friday I had not yet told my parents about my engagement to MiMi the Monkeywoman. . . and I had a plan, a darn good one had the St. Louis Cardinals not plotted against me (I think Poo-joles was the ringleader).

THE SCHEME
For Father’s Day, I treated Chacho (my dad) to last Friday’s game—the Cardinals vs. the Dodgers—easy gift since he bleeds Dodger blue. At the new Busch Stadium, they say, "Text us a message of 44 characters or less. We'll post it on the scoreboard."

Ooh ooh ooh. Howmuchhowmuchhowmuch!?! "A measly $2.99" I shrilled! “What a cheap way to surprise my parents! I'm so clever. . . ” Or so I thought.

STUB HUB SIDENOTE (Intermission organ)
When looking for tickets on Stub Hub, take a third person with you. Everybody is looking for even numbers (2 or 4) making it impossible to find two or four good tickets at a reasonable price. Searching for three tickets (I invited Mumsy), I was able to find seats 18 rows directly behind homeplate for the same price as I would have been able to find outfield seats that low-class people sit in.

BACK TO THE STORY
We arrive at the ballpark, and I immediately put my plan into action. My parents probably thought I was sending a quick love-text to MiMi, but instead I was punching the magic number that would allow me to post the following message:

“Hey Chach and Mumsy. I’m engaged to MiMi.”

I counted the digit-tally five times to make sure it did not exceed the 44 character limit . . . 41 letters of textual perfection. . . I felt a rumbly in my tumbly.

CONFIRMATION
As if to heighten the anticipation, the recipient of my text (I think it may have been Jimmy Edmunds) replied, “Do you confirm that you sent this text? Please reply yes.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I punched madly. Put the stupid thing on the board already! I can’t wait to tell my parents that MiMi is the love of my life!

And then another textual confirmation, this time probably from So Taguchi, “Thanks for your entry. Enjoy the game!!!!”

"Oh-ho-ho I will . . ." I chuckled deep within.

HE BLED BLUE ALRIGHT
For Chacho, I couldn’t have picked a worse game to attend. (Box score) Carpenter two-hit the Dodgers, while the Cardinals pounded out five runs. My dad never left his seat once.

MEANWHILE
I could feel the whole Cardinal team watching me. . . mocking me. I noticed the outfielders, one eye on home plate, and one eye on my disappointed face. I scoured the text-board zealously. One time I swear Scotty Rolen rearranged his trousers in my general direction. Meaningless text after meaningless text rolled off the scoreboard.

Every several minutes the menacing threat read, “We reserve the right to reject any message.” Every time this note repeated, I could see the entire bullpen chuckling and giving multiple high-fives.

Needless to say, my text never made the messageboard, and as a result, I had to tell my parents about my engagement the old-fashioned way . . . with my lips.

Here is a list of text messages that were selected by the Cardinal bullpen over mine:

ALI IS IN DA HOUSE!
I LOVE YOU BILLY
OK
SARA IS IN DA HOUSE
CARDINALS RULE
HAVE FUN OKLAHOMA TRAILBAZERS. LUV BUBBA.
RON AND DAISY ARE IN THE HOUSE.
HOUSTON ASTROS ROCK
$FUNK$ SAYS YO
I LOVE EDMUNDS. BEV.
YOU ROCK PUJOLS.
SIMON IS HERE.
WILL YOU MARRY ME SUE.
I LOVE PAM. SHE’S A HOTTIE.
RHONDA AND PORKIE ARE IN DA HOUSE.
SOONERS CAN BEAT LONGHORNS ANYDAY

I knew I was a Cub fan for a reason. . .

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

GETTING TO "THE POINT"

On Saturday, I met MiMi the Monkeywoman in mid-Missouri (Ft. Leonard Wood) for an afternoon of playful romance. We stopped at Pulaski County Visitors Bureau and asked, “Where is the classiest restaurant in the area?”

The woman, who was decked out in frog paraphernalia, said, “Oh, it’s definitely The Point! They’re the best around, hands down.”

I’m not sure what Central Missouri’s definition of “classy” may be, but I will summarize the visit with this . . . The restrooms were labeled “BULLS” and “HEIFERS.”

Lesson learned—never ask a woman with frog earrings for suggestions on class. I should have known better when I saw the "Girls Gone Wild" bus in a parking lot near the visitors' bureau.

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

DUDE—WHERE’S MY HOTEL?

I’m having an obsessive compulsive moment with the game “Where’s My Hotel?” on the http://www.orbitzgames.com/. So simple, it’s wonderful. Enjoy.

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

Surrendering All?

We often say it . . . I surrender all. We tell God, "Whatever your will, lord." Over the weekend I was put to the test.

I was scheduled to preach to the youth group, and I spent considerable hours in prayer and meditation preparing for the opportunity. On Sunday morning I woke up several hours early (5am) to further pray and prepare for the morning's activities. I bought special provisions for an object lesson, and I was positive that I had a prophetic unction from the Lord for our youth. I arrived at church on fire and ready to share what the Holy Ghost had shared with me.

And just moments before it was time to preach, the rug was pulled from beneath my feet. The youth pastor informed me that youth class will not be meeting today because pastor asked them to stay in the sanctuary for the speaker. He then asked, "Is that OK?"

Yeah. It's outta my hands. The Lord knows, and I trust my pastor, but I couldn't help but feel disappointed. But then I just had to release my expectation, and let it rise like a helium balloon up to the throne room, . . . and surrender all.



Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!