I ended up working all day today. I was interrupted from my gut splitting time of budgets by the following telephone call:

"Hi Dad, it's Jami."

"Hi Boogs."

"Can you drive me to pick up a car tomorrow. I am getting it for $250."

Thoughts are running through my head of what type of vehicle could cost $250."

In my usual supporting nature of my daughter learning life the hardest way possible, "Sure, no problem. What time?"

"I don't know yet. I will call you back."

Well, I get to see my daughter tomorrow.

On my way home however, I received a phone call from the Queen informing me that I was to pick up the eldest daughter at her current residence and be prepared to pick up all of her crap.

Huh?

Well, the eldest and the landlord were at odds (like she turned off the power to the room she was in) and it blew up to very bad proportions. I have not had the eldest explain this yet, just the Queen. The Queen informed me that Jami has finally hit rock bottom.

I knew this. I knew Jami had too much pride to mention it unless she was in a no-win, no-escape situation. After dinner with the entire family, we had the talk. I asked her what the situation was and she started to explain to me that once she bought the car, they could pack their stuff up and stay in a hotel for a couple weeks until they had enough money to rent a "cottage" listed for $650 per month.

As some of you already know, I actually like running numbers through my head. So the questions starting flying...She make $250 per week. She has $254 in her pocket. Bank accounts...$14. The car costs $250 leaving her enough for 1 gallon of gas. Tags and title are around $250 so she will not be able to take it out on the street after she buys it. Insurance for her POS car (think Adam Sandler) will run about $150 per month. The "motel" will run her $143 per week. She planned to be there for two weeks before moving into the "cottage." The deposit for the "cottage"...two months rent.

After explaining the numbers to her, she looked at me knowing that she had no hope of 1. buying a car or 2. getting in a hotel with all of her stuff. She began the "We go dumpster diving and sell it. We make good money from that. That will help."

With one look, it was done. After a long pregnant pause and a bit of eye movement toward the Queen, we invited her home with all of our conditions (which included rent). For the next few months, I will be making $250 per month from the bedroom my child had before she was old enough to move out. Isn't life grand. My daughter is back home...and paying me to be here.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Life lessons are meant to be learned. Some lesson are harder than others and require a schooling in hard knocks. As for me, I learned that my parenting doubts "what did I do wrong" or "what did I miss," were not wrong after all. Humility, the lesson I could never teach my eldest, had to be learned on her own.

Did you know...

Almonds are members of the peach family.

Lately I have been seriously thinking of downsizing the entire family. No, I know you are thinking “Hi kids. Due to economic conditions, we are going to have to let one of you go.” No, it is not that at all. This is more like telling all of the debt collectors and people wanting money (mortgage company, utilities, vehicle credit companies) to go get duct taped.

I do fairly well when it comes to money, but what is it worth? Is it worth my sanity? Maybe. Is it worth my health? I do other things to hurt my health. Is it worth it to miss out on my child growing up? Not so much. Don’t get me wrong, I like money. I also like relaxing and that doesn’t happen terribly often.

By the time I arrive home, I am so tired that I really don’t feel like doing anything with anyone. I upload my post, eat dinner, and then head to bed. I am drained after the workday surrounded by the 2 hour commute into the office, and the 2 hour commute home. However, on Fridays I look forward to having my own time at home and not having to answer (as much) to the man. Fridays are especially good since I started riding the train. The immense amounts of alcohol consumed could rival the Astrodome and relax me rather rapidly.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Why do we really need to go to an office anymore? Why can’t I live in San Francisco and work in Chicago? With telecommuting, web conferencing, mobile networking, everyone should be able to work anywhere. Of course there are exceptions to this rule like, restaurants, retail stores, construction, and trash collectors (especially trash collectors), but for the most part, commercial companies with their giant skyscrapers aren’t really necessary anymore.

Think this out for a moment. The amount of gas consumed to take everyone into and out of the city has to be measured in billions of gallons per year. The amount of money spent to repair and widen roads for all of this traffic is also measured in billions. The cost for the space in all of these buildings is measured in billions. The wasted labor hours for people to commute…you get the idea.

Why not let me live in a small, low property value town anywhere I want. You could probably pay me LESS as long as I didn’t have to leave. For those people who feel they can’t work at home, they could have an office right in town. The technology age has arrived. It was originally intended to make the work you do easier so you have time for yourself. Instead, the companies add more to your plate.

Let’s take back the original intent. The companies should allow for permanent telecommuting and satellite office space. Help promote a work life balance. Are you with me?!

(this is when you agree...and clap...and if you emphatically agree, dance)

Thank you (stepping off my soapbox)

Did you know…

American Airlines saved $40,000 in 1987 by eliminating one olive from each salad served first class.

Fixing a vehicle is a guy thing. I know I have just flared up the fur of many females, but let’s think about this for a minute. Yes, there are females that fix cars, work in the computer industry, and perform underwater welding, but they are few and far between. The Sally Ride foundation is making an attempt to teach young girls to change the mindset of young girls to encourage math and science. For this, I applaud her.

But honestly, you will find more men with grease on their hands under the hoods of vehicles than women.

So I worked on my truck last weekend. I am NOT a grease monkey so messing with the motor was only for looks. I moved a wire, touched a hose and stroked the battery to look ever so impressive and manly man to the women walking about. Since that didn’t work, I impressed my wife. I had been planning since I received the truck to touch up the paint on it. Since the vehicle was a prior military pickup, I knew the paint color for the body was Krylon white. I trucked down to the Ace Hardware and grabbed a couple cans and also two cans of black.

The black was for the grill and trim of the vehicle. The gray colored trim was beginning to wear off of the yellow plastic and yellow started showing. On top of that, the bumper looked like it had been pushing boulders around the base with all of the scratches.

I began dismantling the vehicle looking as if I really had a clue as to what I was doing and started painting. I have to admit, the bumper and grill look excellent. I patted myself on the back many times and demanded praise from the Queen and the rest of the Warrior household for how professional it looks with the spray paint.

It is the truck bed that impressed me most though. I sanded out certain paint scratches and broke out the white Krylon paint. After painting the driver’s side quarter panel, I took a short break which was rudely interrupted with pitter patter of rain. The section of the truck I painted was in the garage, but this limited the drying times if I continued forward.

So now, I drive around with a very pretty not quite finished rear quarter panel pick up truck. The rest of the truck is still waiting for sanding and painting. But my grill and front bumper look great!

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). The best laid plans of mice and men…hmm…mice have plans? I plan more like a mouse than a man. Or do I plan like a man? I had all the right intentions to finish painting my bathroom that I started last fall, the truck, or llama (another blog entry), but every time I begin moving forward, something interrupts me and I never have a chance to finish it. I have too much to do to finish painting the bathroom. After all, I have to paint a truck. I did finish painting the llama though.

Women need to learn more math and science. That way they can finish the jobs we start.

Did you know…

There is a new television show on UKTV Style (a British cable channel) called “Watching Paint Dry.” Viewers watch in real-time: gloss, semi-gloss, matte, satin, you name it. Viewers then vote out their least favorite.

I have hit my second week on the SparkPeople thing today. I have to admit stage 1 has shown me the error of my ways. I keep better track of the things I eat, exercise more, and overall, feel better. I can still enjoy my ham and cheese omelette in the morning as long as I trim back on other things...like lunch. No more trips to Grand Lux for lunch. Chipotle Burrito Bol is my friend. The experimental meals suggested for us are not bad. I am not starving to death at the end of the day, but I am also not full.

Why speak about this today? Well, I can put on my socks easily again...after about 7 years. I never realized how nice it would be to not have to stick my foot on the bed so I can twist my leg into a praying mantis stance with a shoe horn in a pretsel twist to slip on one sock. I have noticed something else. My legs are much more muscular and better defined. The 1 1/2 mile walk to and from the train station daily doesn't hurt. That counts against my required cardio and that means the only thing I have to do that isn't part of my new routine is strength training.

I have some strength. But the low-impact exercises they require me to do for some reason kick my butt. I found out there are muscles in my groin that I didn't realize were there. Why in the world they feel I need to exercise my groin is beyond me. After all, I am married. Who needs to exercise the groin? Or maybe...that is why they think you need to exercise the groin. I digress.

So, I hopped on the scale (this is actually an affliction of mine as I have mentioned before) and waited for my numbers to show.

UP 6 POUNDS! This damn scale needs to be recalibrated. I am sure of it. I have followed this diet as closely as possible only going over on calories, fat, and carbs about 12 times of the 14 days. Who made this thing? I check the bottom and notice the tag..."Made in China."

Of course, that HAS to be the problem. The scale was made by people in a country that measures in Kilograms. How could they possibly know how much a pound is? They must have been thinking it was the weight of British pounds. Silly Chinese.

Maybe it was damaged in transport here. After all, China is a long way to ship something.

Maybe the gravitational pull of the Earth is slightly higher here. You know, it IS a full moon, I would bet that has something to do with it.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Do we really know what weight and body mass really are? Consider this, if everyone has a different theory of what is "healthy" and what is "physically fit," who is right? How is it our grandparents lived so long without all of the chemicals and preservatives? How is it they lived without worrying about fat, calories and carbs?

Do you think it could just be that they ate what they grew and you don't shit where you eat. I am thinking the companies making the steaks, chips, mayonnaise all are not really eating the food they make. Why is it we need to try to figure out what chemical (like trans-fats) are killing people, when we didn't need the chemical in the beginning.

Maybe we should try a little thing called logic.

Did you know...

Drive-thru bank automatic teller machines have braille. (Thanks Mr. Banker)

I could tell it was just one of those days. The Queen has been edgy with almost everyone in the household and you could see she was visibly running thin with her patience. It was this reason, I enacted the mission to rescue her from the clutches of the evil Grouch Monster.

As my wife is sitting on the toilet I ask “Do you have plans for tonight?”

“No, why?”

“I would like to take you out tonight…just you and me,” I respond. “I have already lined up Shae to watch Avery for the night.”

“Where are we going?

“Chicago.”

“OK,” she states without question. “Where in Chicago?”

“I have to figure that out still. You stink.”

Let’s be honest for a moment, you know damn well you would tell you wife if she stinks or not. You know she would tell you after providing her the dutch oven, you should have no problem in responding in kind. What are you really going to say?

“Honey, your poo smells like a bounty of roses on a bright sunny afternoon.” Umm…yeah.

After lining everything up in my head, I inform her she needs to wear jeans and sneakers. It is at this point, the Queen begins to doubt my judgment. I told her Chicago. It is not like I am taking her across state lines again.

After making sure the elder child has all cell phone numbers, the doctor’s phone number, her Mom’s number (in Virginia), the first aid kit, fire extinguisher, cattle prod and homeland security package, we head out.

At first the Queen starts asking where we are heading. “Is it a ballgame?”

“Nope.”

“Is it a concert?”

“Nope”

“Is it the theater?”
(long pause) “Yep.”

“What kind of theater? Movie or Play?”

“I guess you will have to wait and see.”

After playing this game for about 30 more minutes, I finally ask her if she really wants to know.

Her response…”No.”

After parking at my office parking lot, we walked for about 25 minutes until I finally hailed a cab. “Briar Street please.”

There is a distinct advantage here. I have been to the Briar Street Theater before, and the Queen has not. So, she still has no idea where we are heading. After the cab drops us off, she notices the sign.

Blue Man Group

This would be her first time seeing BMG and I couldn’t wait. I knew seating would be limited, so I timed it so that if there weren’t any shows at 7:00, we could catch the 10:00 after dinner. We managed to buy 7:00 balcony seats which had an obstructed view, but that was fine. I have yet to see the show from the balcony and was in some way, looking forward to it.

The Queen laughed, smiled and reminisced after the show. We grabbed a cab back to Michigan Avenue and walked to McDonald’s…I mean Chipotle. I even let her super size it…I mean get the chips.

Overall, it was a wonderful evening. Best of all, the Queen is back to normal. Long live the Queen!

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Take a break from life. Don’t plan it, just do it. If you don’t take a break once in a while, you are bound to be attacked by the grouch monster or some other alien being.

Did you know…

450 million people worldwide are affected by mental, neurological, or behavioral problems at any time.

As I was surfing around the wonderful world of blogging, I came by another ingenious idea (not mine this time).

You see, as a blogger, you want readers to actually READ your site instead of clicking the next button, number, or color. The objective for quite a few bloggers is to generate traffic. So, somebody came up with a brilliant idea. They will read your blog daily. All you have to do is pay them. Is that brilliant or what?

So, I bought him/her.

I just HAVE to know what this is about. I paid my $1.00 for the entire month of my own groupie. Look everyone! I have a groupie! Hi groupie!(waves frantically).

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). The smallest ideas can sometimes be the most fun, and most profitable. Just think, this could be as simple as the guy who came up with the pay-per-pixel idea on the million dollar web page. So, if you want your very own groupie, go to Buy-A-Groupie.

Did you know...

The term, "It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye" is from Ancient Rome.

The Queen just went to the grocery store a couple of days ago and spent a few hundred on food. There is nothing in the house to eat. I seem to have this problem often. I actually think this may be a disorder of some sort. I am sure it has a long and complicated name like "haud victus in victus repono" or some other Latin translation. I still don't know why we need to translate everything to Latin, but that is entirely different blog.

I decided to start looking for something to eat this morning after waking up with Avery. I let the Queen sleep in this morning so I can have some quality time with Avery. Quality time in the way that she is sitting at her desk coloring in her coloring book, and I am typing this blog on my computer. Ahhhh, the quality.

I have considered making breakfast, but with me being lazy...and nothing is jumping out of the refridgerator and throwing itself on the stove, I continue to starve. There actually is a large selection of food, just nothing I want or have to make.

So I stand there looking in the fridge longingly hoping for one of the items to magically change into food. I look in the freezer thinking there would be a frozen item I could make. Hmm...Smart One three cheese macaroni...I wonder how that would be for breakfast. That would not be hard to fix. Throw it in the microwave and ding, breakfast.

Nah.

There is that one banana sitting on the banana hook. Hey, when did we acquire a banana hook?

I begin rummaging through the cabinets thinking there would be something different in the cabinet from the last time I checked 10 minutes ago. Nope. The food fairy didn't drop anything off. How frustrating to be hungry and not being able to find a thing to eat in a house full of food. It is in some way like have 500 channels of television and nothing to watch.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Do we have too many choices? Are our expectations too high? Why do we need all of these choices? Did we really need the same Ultra Charmin toilet paper in four different size rolls? Just offer me the super mega collosal monster size. Do we really need 4 ESPN channels? I can only watch one.

I understand that everyone does not like the same thing and we as consumers want something that meets our individual criteria, but come let's bring this back to reality. When you finally find a product you like and begin purchasing it regularly, the company making it stops making it because it doesn't sell enough to support itself.

Take for instance Bacardi. Bacardi used to make a product called Tropico. It was a citrus (orange in color) type of rum type stuff. Tropico was a regular item in the Warrior party group. It is no longer made. I can only assume it is because they wanted to release some other beverage they will soon phase out. Basically at this point, I am up a creek without a paddle.

Thanks High Priestess

Do you remember when grocery stores were smaller? Do you remember when you went to the grocery store and could finish shopping without having to spend an hour in the grocery store? What would we do without all of these choices? What did our parents do? Why do we need to have so many choices? Do you really need a cabbage smoothie on the menu at Jamba Juice?

I miss the days when choices where limited, but easy.

Did you know...

Some ribbon worms will eat themselves if they can't find any food.

Something happened yesterday that gave me the ooogies. I am sure you know that feeling when you are just there and there is nothing really wrong with the situation, just the fact you have the hair on your neck stand up, or the chill run slowly up your back and sides. That situation where you don't really care what is going on, or what causes it, you just don't like it and want out.

Yesterday, I almost missed the usual train home yesterday afternoon. In fact, I was the last of our crew to board. When I arrived on board, I began searching for a seat on the second level which our crew has pretty much taken over. There was one stranger in our seating area that lowered the seating selection and our crew (as popular as we have become) has grown to capacity plus. The left side of the car was full. The right side of the car was full except for one seat being available all the way against the back wall with Naked Man.

It is at that point I have to think to myself...shoot me now. Now to best describe Naked Man, he stands about 6 feet 3 inches and weighs about 375 pounds white man with a tattered comb-over. His voice is always loud and will often holler about his maid and certain acts of nakedness that really, everyone on the train would rather not imagine. He inherited his name from his own preferences. You see, Naked Man belongs to a nudist colony (shudder).

I make my way through the web of legs and bags to the back seat and sit there, hugging the steel bar as far away as possible on the two seater bench. But it is not his height, weight or otherwise that ooogies everyone (and I mean everyone) out; it is not even the knowledge of the nudist colony. It is his laugh.

I laugh. I open my mouth widely and laugh with my gut. If I am laughing to hard, I will even snort. I admit, my laugh is odd (goes with the territory) but Naked Man's laugh sends chills up my spine like knowing a corpse is about to reach up and touch you on the back of your neck. He has one of those low, deep stuttered humming laughs. You half expect him to drop his head and look at you with his eyes up and think of you naked (shudder) while moaning.

He is not the first person to cause this type of reaction to me. The first I can remember was a female co-worker when I was working in DC. She was really messed up in the head. She would hit on everyone in the building and had such low self-esteem, she was taking books on tape courses to improve herself (I am a good person, people will like me). Seriously, this girl was so messed up, she made her own birthday cake and brought it to work so everyone would celebrate.

There were so many complaints about her, that they had to fire her. I would bet THAT helped her self-esteem.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). There are times when you are in a situation that you feel like you are covered in ants in a wooden crate buried in a pit of snakes. Grit your teeth, smile and get through it. You may find the ants are meant to kill the snakes.

Drawing a conclusion about a person because of the way they laugh is short-sighted. What if, that same guy just won the biggest lottery? You know from his actions he is generous. He has previously purchased enough alcohol to pass around on the train. He is loyal and sits with the crew regularly (thus the name). So, even if he gives me the ooogies, I still want to know more about him. Maybe HE has a blog. You can't judge a book by it's cover.

Did you know...

It only takes seven seconds to make a first impression. Just over 50% of a first impression is based on appearance (wardrobe, hair/makeup, body language, and our facial expressions). 40% of our first impressions are based on voice and speech quality. About 5% is based on what we say.

I just have to know. What is it about shoes?

I own five pairs of shoes and I can tell you where they are located at any given point in time. Each of them has a purpose. I have a black pair of tie-up shoes used for work and only work. In fact, they stay in my locker at work.

The second pair of shoes are basically a backup for the first pair. They are slip on Dexter loafers in black and brown. Multifunctional and works with nearly every outfit.

Third are my Nike Air Monarchs. I use these for nearly everything casual including my daily trip to work. After arriving at work, I put on the shoes mentioned first.

Next are the mowing sneakers. They are plain white New Balance and were the predecessor to the Monarchs. I use them when I am mowing. They are green.

Lastly are my bowling shoes. Dexter bowling shoes. They cannot be worn outside of a bowling alley, so they stay in my bowling bag (lately without any usage at all).

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Why in the world do women need so many pairs of shoes? I took a train poll of men vs. women and shoes and I found out that women have nearly 10 times as many shoes as men. They all (men and women alike) have two feet. Why in the world would anyone need 40 to 50 pairs of shoes? Let's perform a little math here.

365 days in the year divide by 50 pairs of shoes equals 7.3 days per pair of shoes or 3.65 per foot. But we are finished yet. You see, the women rotate out shoes so in a years time, they will have owned 60 pairs of shoes. The new math makes it 6 days per pair of shoes. OK, grant I may only wear my bowling shoes 6 times this year, but my other shoes are going to be worn down. Once the Monarch are worn to the point of holes, I will rotate them out and they will become the mowing shoes.

Why do women need so many pairs of shoes? Is it a case where someone needs to open a shoe rental business for all of the women to match their clothes?

Do you know...

88% of women buy shoes that are one size too small.

Carrie Bradshaw spent an estimated $400,000 on her closetful of shoes in Sex and the City.

It probably doesn't hurt any that I had a Long Island iced tea before boarding the train, but the train ride home was terribly interesting. To catch some of you up, I take a commuter train to work every day. The people I ride with are great. Diverse and uninhibited. Definitely not politically correct. In fact, the discussions that take place make the bold blush.

Anyway, today the discussions (because at any point in time there are 3 or 4 going on) circled around everything from ariating the lawn to burning the bush and I am NOT talking about a leafy plant. This may not seem terribly interesting, but the fact that everyone didn't really care about the discussion made it that much more interesting. Nobody was offended or put out by the conversations and the volume of the train car could rival that of a VanHalen concert front row seat next to the speakers.

So, here is a little snippet of the conversations. For the purpose of this conversation, one of the names will be made up. The others are actual names. Just for fun, guess who is made up.

Mr. Banker: Do women scratch their boobs?! (Again, everyone is yelling)
Mini-fridge: What do you mean?!
Mr. Banker: Well, guys scratch their balls, do women scratch their boobs?!
Mini-fridge: I am not even going to signify that with an answer!
Mr. Banker: It feels good for guys to scratch their balls! You would think after letting the twins loose, you would want to scratch them!
Mini-fridge: Well, How would I know?!
Tatonka (Me): Yeah, she doesn't have anything to scratch!

Mini-fridge thinks a second after almost agreeing and punches me.

Tatonka: Hey, I was backing you up here!
Mini-fridge: Yeah, right!
The Bailiff: I have never seen Tatonka slam Mini-fridge!

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Do women scratch their boobs? I mean, why is it we are so worried about being politically incorrect? Women have boobs right? People are Mexican, or Puerto Rican, or White, or Polish. People understand their heritage. So why is it we have to call someone Hispanic or Latino?

Why is it we can't make fun of people who light their own pubic hair on fire...and video tape it? They were the ones stupid enough to do it in the first place and video tape it on top of that. I have to say, if one of my employees called into the office saying he could not make it to work because he is in the hospital with second degree burns because he lit his pubic hair on fire, after laughing, I would pick myself off of the floor, fire him and think about how evolution just clorinated that gene pool.

Let's stop all of this politically correct crap. Let the Florida Seminoles be the Florida Seminoles. The Seminole tribe does not have a problem with the name. In fact, they use it for their own advantage as a promotion to the tribe. Before determining the need for politically correct, ask the person. I know of lots of Native jokes and I find every single one of them hilarious. If you know that everything is in jest, why raise the red flag? Chill out everyone!

If they feel offended in our train car, I am sure they will move to a different car (as some do). That is because we can also be rather crude and indignant. The Sheriff actually made another lady uncomfortable enough that you could see her squirm. I think that was the "Dirty Sanchez" conversation. If you don't know what a Dirty Sanchez or a plethora of other terms used on the train is, here you go.

Did you know...

Van Halen singer David Lee Roth trained to be an EMT in New York City, and was certified in November 2004.

OK, I am not sure why anyone would have a happy tax day.

(other personality) But I am getting a refund!

No. You aren’t. While it may be true that you are going to receive some money from the government, it was your money in the beginning. Remember that whole paycheck minus taxes thing? Besides, the government NEEDS your money with that 9 trillion dollar debt issue looming over their heads. Government accountants everywhere are drooling as they wait for that fat amount of money to help balance out the inflating cost of goods.

Paying your taxes is not nearly as exciting as swimming naked in the shark tank, and is about as complicated as swimming with concrete shoes. But we still have to pay them. Because it is the law…actually it is the 16th amendment. Why we agreed to do this is beyond me. Of course, we haven’t always paid income taxes in the United States.

It wasn’t until the civil war that Americans has imposed on them income tax. This tax lasted from 1861 to 1872 and was 3% on any income over $800.

The 16th Amendment was ratified in 1912. The tax rate was 1% on net income over $3,000, and 7% on incomes above $500,000. This makes sense to me.

It is World War I tat caused our tax rate to rise to the levels we would even shy away from: 77% for the rich. This dropped back to 25% after the war ended.

World War II again saw a bump in the tax rate to (get this) 91%. The rich paid this until 1964 when I guess they finally paid off enough Senators to have the rate drop back down to 70% and then to 50% in 1981.

The Tax Reform Act of 1986 reduced the top rate to 28%, at the same time raising the bottom rate from 11% to 15% (in fact 15% and 28% became the only two tax brackets).

During the 1990s the top rate rose again, standing at 39.6% by the end of the decade.
The top rate was cut to 35% and the bottom rate was cut to 10% by the Economic Growth and Tax Relief Reconciliation Act of 2001 (EGTRRA).

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). I pay my taxes! There is a large misconception that the money Native Americans make is not taxed and is spent on peyote and stuffed into the peace pipes. Well, I am here to inform you, that is wrong (on more than one stereotype.

First, we don’t pay for peyote.

Second, we are required by law to pay our taxes, whether we are on the reservation or off. Granted, the income of most Native Americans is well below the poverty line. It is also believed that Natives are entitled to free housing and are given land. Well, I pay a rather large mortgage on my house.

What about state taxes you say? Well, here is how this works, If you live on a reservation, you do not have to pay state income tax in most states. However, you do have to pay tribal income tax. The non-Natives do not have the same requirement. You see the non-Native businesses and non-Natives living within the reservation borders don’t pay taxes to the tribes. That money goes to local and state governments. Therefore, it is the non-Natives on reservations that receive services without having to pay for them.

Lastly, I don’t smoke. It will kill you. And you know the only things that are definite…Death and Taxes.

Did you know…

Richard Hatch, winner of the first "Survivor" reality series, has been charged with tax evasion for failing to report his $1,000,000 prize.

Happy Easter everyone! I do love celebrating holidays, even if the history of the holiday is confusing. My kids love the bunnies, the eggs, and the ham. All things very common for Easter.

So, why bunnies, eggs and most of all ham? When exactly is Easter? Why can't it fall on the last Sunday in March like Thanksgiving in November?

As many of you know, I love to research information such as this, so here is what I have found.

The Calendar: Easter falls according to the lunar calendar. Extremely interesting since Christmas falls on the Gregorian calendar. Why is it Christ couldn't be born an a particular date...a second time? Anyway, we celebrate Easter on the first Sunday after the earliest fourteenth day of a lunar month that occurred on or after March 21 (the first day of Spring). This makes it fall on the new moon after a full moon. There is a plan to reform the date for Easter to a particular Sunday in April. This is for the Western Chirstian faiths, the date for Easter is different for the Eastern Christian faiths. They will have their Easter April 23 this year.

The Bunnies and Eggs: Jakob Grimm took up the question of Eostre in his Deutsche Mythologie of 1835, noting that Ostaramanoth was etymologically related to Eostremonat and writing of various landmarks and customs related to the goddess Ostara in Germany. Again, because of a lack of written documentation, critics suggest that Grimm took Bede's mention of a goddess Eostre at face value and constructed the goddess Ostara around existing Germanic customs which may have arisen independently. Others point to Grimm's stated intent to gather and record oral traditions which might otherwise be lost as explanation for the lack of further documentation. Amongst other traditions, Grimm connected the 'Osterhase' (Easter Bunny) and Easter Eggs to the goddess Ostara/Eostre. He also cites various place names in Germany as being evidence of Ostara, but critics contend that the close etymological relationship between Ostara and the words for 'east' and 'dawn' could mean that these place names referred to either of those two things rather than a goddess. [citing Wikipedia]

The Ham: This one always makes me chuckle. I am hoping someone can actually wrap some logic around this one. So, Christ was a Jew. Jewish people cannot eat pig. Of the "beasts of the earth" (which basically refers to land mammals with the exception of swarming rodents), you may eat any animal that has cloven hooves and chews its cud. Lev. 11:3; Deut. 14:6. Any land mammal that does not have both of these qualities is forbidden. The Torah specifies that the camel, the rock badger, the hare and the pig are not kosher because each lacks one of these two qualifications. So why do WE eat pig? The Easter ham, and most other "Easter" traditions actually have their roots in Paganism and have nothing to do with Christian commemorations of the Resurrection of Jesus. Although Christianity observes Easter to acknowledge the Resurrection, most know it is not the actual day of this event. [citing reference]

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Why is it there are more paganistic overtones associated with Easter than there are Christian? If the rebirth of Christ is the reason, why does it work from the same calendar as the Pagan holiday Eostre? Why do you think we call it Easter? Shouldn't it be called Rebirth or Christmas take two? Additionally why don't ALL Christian religions observe Easter?

Bede's Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum ("Ecclesiastic History of the English People") contains a letter from Pope Gregory I to Saint Mellitus, who was then on his way to England to conduct missionary work among the heathen Anglo-Saxons. The Pope suggests that converting heathens is easier if they are allowed to retain the outward forms of their traditional pagan practices and traditions, while recasting those traditions spiritually towards Christianity instead of to their indigenous gods (whom the Pope refers to as "devils"), "to the end that, whilst some gratifications are outwardly permitted them, they may the more easily consent to the inward consolations of the grace of God". The Pope sanctioned such conversion tactics as biblically acceptable, pointing out that God did much the same thing with the ancient Israelites and their pagan sacrifices. This practice might explain the incorporation of Eostre traditions into the Christian holiday. [citing Wikipedia]

By the way, My Easter ham was delicious. The kids colored eggs which I happily ate. Everyone received their Peeps bunnies. Happy Easter!

Did you know...

The amount of Peeps chicks and bunnies eaten at Easter could more than circle Earth's circumference. That's a lot of marshmallow!

Why is it, people are so infatuated with body functions? Body functions are things we HAVE to do in order to survive. So when a body function such as farting is performed out in the middle of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum on July 4 weekend, why is it so many people are surprised? It is not like they have a lot of choices.

What brought me to this topic? I have gall stones and it appears I need to have my gall bladder removed. I have consulted with other highly knowledgeable people on my train on this procedure and they have informed me that the surgery itself is not as bad as the after-effect. Apparently, uncontrollable cheese cutting is a side affect of gall bladder removal.

I really could care less if I pass gas in the middle of the elevator, because well, everyone already thinks I am a little bit odd. I do however wonder why the doctors think this is an unnecessary organ and can be removed. It appears to me that it has one function, controlling the barking spiders.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). Why is it we can have so many different words and phrases for flatulence, and we have only a few words for blinking? Are we as a people so infatuate with green fog that we have to have so many ways to say it?

The Queen claims that my claim to fame is writing about body functions, and yet we perform fewer gaseous anomalies than we blink. Nobody writes about blinking (except for me, right now). Why is this? People blink about 10 times per minute whereas launching an air biscuit happens only 12-25 times a day.

Personally, I don’t understand. Letting one rip has over 160 different words or phrases, and blinking…well, is blinking.

Did you know…

Livestock are a significant contributing factor to the greenhouse effect, accounting for around 20% of global methane emissions. Less than 10% of the total greenhouse gas emissions from livestock is produced by animal flatulence; most is produced by animal burping.

It is warming up quite nicely in Chicago. As I look about the city and walk to and from the train station I have noticed something a bit distressing. I know I will gain quite a bit of flack from this blog, but from one man in representation of many men, I have to ask. What happened to the sundress?

I have actually taken a poll on this topic with about 5 other men. Every single man I ask if they miss women wearing sundresses, all confirm with a resounding YES. Why is it women decided that the sundress is no longer acceptable? Why is it during the warmer months, women are wearing heavier materials and layers? Have they asked the men at all if this is what attracts them? I think not.



Now, I like seeing a women in a properly fitting pair of jeans, but that does not appeal to me nearly as much as a sundress. For some reason, you just do not see the sundress and on behalf of men everywhere we demand that this particular piece of clothing be brought back! Keep the shoulder-padded suits, black pants, and overcoats in the closet and dig into the back and grab that sundress.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). The women and gay male designers designing clothes for women need to actually ASK a heterosexual man what appeals to them. I feel the fashion industry has lost focus as to who the "fashion" is suppose to appeal.

Why else would we have a fashion industry? People flower themselves up to attract the opposite sex (or same sex if they are homosexual). Perfume in today's use has the same purpose even though some use it to cover up an odor. The difference is, the perfume industry has discover pheromones and add them to their product. The fashion industry does not have this option as of yet.

I am sure there will be many women out there that feel I am sexist for even starting this blog. But for today I represent men. BRING BACK THE SUNDRESS!

Now, I need to go figure out a way for the Queen not to see this blog.

Did you know...

The company that manufactures the greatest number of women's dresses each year is Mattel. Barbie's got to wear something.

This email explains itself...



Good Day,

I am a new member and have started using you web site today. I could not find a technical support link on the website, so I decided that since you all are marketing your product you should know of an issue.

The nutritional information is not calculating. Let me explain...

Today I went into the meal planner and added a food to my breakfast menu. (2 pastries of Pop Tarts and I created an entry for Arizona Lemon Iced Tea). The issue is, and this can be verified by looking at the nutritional information, (using Frosted Strawberry Pop Tarts as the example) Each serving is 405.6 calories. There are 2 servings in the package making the total intake for 2 servings 811.2 calories. The meal plan does not reflect this.

I would consider this a pretty critical issue. As I calculate it, my intake from breakfast should be 992 calories (I know now, Pop-Tarts are bad). However, the meal plan is showing 496 calories.

Otherwise, I love the site.

John
n8iv@n8iv.net


Response 1

Thanks for the feedback! One pop tart has around 200 calories.

If you ever feel there are discrepancies, you can use our "manually enter nutritional information" link on the food search page to enter information yourself.


Dave H.

SparkPeople Support


My Response

Dave,

Thank you for your response. However, the Arizona Ice Tea is the same scenario and since I entered the data, I know what it is suppose to be. I ENTERED the information so telling me to use the link instead of verifying the information I have already given you is futile, dismissive and disrespectful. Maybe you should try it out for yourself.

Additionally, the frosted strawberry pop-tart are 406 calories each pastry according to the box sitting in front of me as is the empty bottle of tea. Your measurement is per pastry on the site. I have entered 2 patries.

I (the customer) was trying to help you out. I feel it is important for companies to understand how their customers view them. I am on several Consumer Advisory Boards and feel it is necessary to know the consumer expectations. If this is how SparkPeople accepts and responds to information from the customers, then you are heading for a bumpy road.

By the way, I will be posting all of this on my blogs.

John
http://n8ivwarrior.blogspot.com


Response 2

Hi John

I apologize if you feel our response was disrespectful. Please realize that we are a small company trying to help a lot of people with our free site, so we cannot dedicate too much time in answering customer support questions.

The information I saw was from Kellogg's website, and states 200 calories for one pastry:
http://www.kelloggs.com/cgi-bin/brandpages/product.pl?product=444&company=3 (you'll need to click the link for nutrition info about halfway down the page)

We truly appreciate input and feedback from our customers. When we find out about information that is wrong in our database we correct it right away.


Thanks for writing


Dave H.

SparkPeople.com


My Response

Dave,

I believe I understand the issue. The packaging from Kellogg does not help. It appears you are correct. As far the Arizona Tea, I am still trying to understand the software and have mistaken the serving size with the amount of servings. You were requesting how big a serving is, not how many servings were in the container.

Thank you for your support.

One other suggestion, you may want to place a support link on the web site somewhere (I would suggest under "Help"). I could not find it.

John

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). It sure can be humbling when you chew someone out for poor customer support when they were right to begin with. I am rarely on the other side.

It is a big man that can accept his mistakes. Yes, that is what I will tell myself the rest of the day.

As far as SparkPeople, my sincere apologies. It really is a good site. I highly suggest it. If you sign up, my login for the referral is N8ivWarrior.

Did you know...

The prison system is the largest supplier of mental health services in America, with 250,000 Americans with mental illness living there. Rumor has it, they don't complain about the service.

This is a long post. However, it addresses BOTH sides of the immigration issue.

The actual bill as it was received in the Senate from the House. http://frwebgate.access.gpo.gov/cgi-bin/getdoc.cgi?dbname=109_cong_bills&docid=f:h4437rfs.txt.pdf

In a nutshell, here is what the bill provides (ref: Wikipedia):

· Requires up to 700 miles (1100 km) of fence along the US-Mexican border at points with the highest number of immigrant deaths. (House Amendment 648, authored by Duncan Hunter)
· Requires the federal government to take custody of illegal aliens detained by local authorities. This would end the practice of "catch and release", where federal officials sometimes instruct local law enforcement to release detained illegal aliens because resources to prosecute them are not available. It also reimburses local agencies in the 29 counties along the border for costs related to detaining illegal aliens. (Section 607)
· Mandates employers to verify workers' legal status through electronic means, phased in over several years. Also requires reports to be sent to Congress one and two years after implementation to ensure that it is being used. (Title VII)
· Eliminates the Diversity Immigrant Visa (also known as Green Card Lottery) program. (House Amendment 650, authored by Bob Goodlatte)
· Prohibits grants to federal, state, or local government agencies that enact or maintain a sanctuary policy. (House Amendment 659, authored by Thomas Tancredo)
· Incorporates satellite communications between immigration enforcement officials. (House Amendment 638, authored by John Carter)
· Requires all United States Border Patrol uniforms to be made in the U.S. to avoid forgeries. (House Amendment 641, authored by Rick Renzi)
· Institutes a timeline for deployment of US-VISIT to all land-based checkpoints. (House Amendment 642, authored by Michael Castle)
· Requires the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) to report to Congress on the number of OTMs (Other Than Mexicans) apprehended and deported and the number of those from states that sponsor terror. (Section 401)
· Formalizes Congressional condemnation of rapes by smugglers along the border and urges Mexico to take immediate action to prevent them. (House Amendment 647, authored by Ginny Brown-Waite)
· All illegals before deported must pay a fine of $3,000 if they agree to leave voluntarily but do not adhere to the terms of their agreement. The grace period for voluntary departure is shortened to 60 days.
· All children born to illegal immigrants in the United States will become wards of the state.
· Requires DHS to conduct a study on the potential for border fencing on the US-Canada border.
· Sets the minimum sentence for fraudulent documents at 10 years, fines, or both, with tougher sentencing in cases of aiding drug trafficking and terrorism.
· Establishes a Fraudulent Documents Center within DHS.
· Increases penalties for aggravated felonies and various frauds, including marriage fraud and document fraud.
· Establishes an 18-month deadline for DHS to control the border, with a progress report due one year after enactment of the legislation.
· Requires criminal record, terrorist watch list clearance, and fraudulent document checks for any alien before being granted legal immigration status.
· Reimburses states aiding in immigration enforcement.
· Housing of illegals will be considered a felony and subject to no less than 3 years in prison.
· Allows deportation of any illegal alien convicted of driving under the influence (DUI).
· Adds human trafficking and human smuggling to the money-laundering statute.
· Increases penalties for employing illegal aliens to $7,500 for first time offenses, $15,000 for second offenses, and $40,000 for all subsequent offenses.
· Refusing to accept immigrants from countries which delay or refuse to accept the foreign country's citizens deported from the United States (Section 404)

Debate

The House version of the bill is opposed by a variety of immigrant, social, humanitarian, and religious organizations. Some opposition groups state that it would unfairly affect over 11 million illegal immigrants, their family members, and communities. Some claim that it includes measures which create substantial barriers to community policing critical to public safety. Some also claim the legislation represents the harshest anti-immigrant bill in nearly a century.[citation needed]

When discussing this bill it is important to note that the bill does not specify one particular group over any other; passage of the bill would affect all illegal aliens living within the US. The fact that most of the protests to date have come largely from Mexican and Latino based population centers stems from the fact that Latinos are believed to be the largest illegal-immigrant ethnic group in the country, with approximately 11 million non-citizens in the US.[citation needed]

Detractors say the bill includes measures that will infringe on the human rights of asylum seekers by stripping important due process protections, criminalizing status over which they may have no control, and dramatically limiting their access to essential services. It would also turn undocumented illegal immigrants into felons, and punish anyone guilty of providing them assistance. It also would create several new mandatory minimum penalties for a variety of offenses, including some that would expose humanitarian workers, public schoolteachers, church workers, and others whose only object is to provide relief and aid to five-year mandatory minimum prison sentences.[citation needed]

On the opposite side of the issue it is argued that living illegally in the United States is a crime, and that this bill merely aims at recementing US immigration codes that have for so long been neglected. Supporters of the bill also argue that it will increase border security by providing more US Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents to the border, thereby helping to curtail any possible illegal entry to the country by terrorists. H.R. 4437 has also been loosely tied to the USA PATRIOT Act, which among other things increases the government's power of surveillance by reducing the number of people who could be potential risks to the country. It is also argued that the passage of this bill may help curtail drug trafficking and human trafficking from Mexico to the US by depriving smugglers of sources and contacts on the US side of the border.[citation needed]

Response

Millions of individuals have protested the legislation, claiming that it will break up families and result in mass deportation. Their leaders have called for Congress to pass a bill that allows individuals currently not authorized to be present in the country to receive legal status. The United States Senate has various bills working through its committee that have stricken some of the provisions from H.R. 4437, such as the parts declaring illegal presence to be a felony and criminalizing aid to illegal alliens. In addition, many cities and counties have taken formal positions opposing the bill. Labor unions have also opposed the bill, though there is division among the labor movement as to whether to support a guest worker program, or amnesty to those currently present, two provisions currently in some of the Senate bills.

In support of the bill are many immigration reduction organizations. The Minuteman Project has taken a position supporting the bill as a first step to controlling the border. In addition, conservative talk radio hosts have come out in support of the bill.

The Running Joke:

If, you are ready for the adventure of a lifetime, TRY THIS:

Enter Mexico illegally. Never mind immigration quotas, visas, international law, or any of that nonsense.

Once there, demand that the local government provide free medical care for you and your entire family. Demand bilingual nurses and doctors.

Demand free bilingual local government forms, bulletins, etc.

Keep your American identity strong. Fly Old Glory from your rooftop, or proudly display it in your front window or on your car bumper.

Speak only English at home and in public and insist that your children do likewise.

Demand classes on American culture in the Mexican school system.

Demand a local Mexican driver license. This will afford other legal rights and will go far to legitimize your unauthorized, illegal, presence in Mexico.

Drive around with no liability insurance and ignore local traffic laws.

Insist that local Mexican law enforcement teach English to all its officers.

Good luck! You'll be demanding for the rest of time, because it will never happen. It will not happen in Mexico or any other country in the world except right here in the United States, land of the naive and stupid, idiotic politically correct politicians.

This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one, today two). Why are we debating on this? If the illegal (key word here) immigrants are not thrilled with the thought of being arrested for being in the country illegally and considered a felon, then go back to the country of origin and request the visa/citizen process in a legal manner.

Coming to the US and screaming about “rights” afforded to you are not legitimate. The rights are for the citizens of the United States. You do not have the right to vote, free speech, freedom of assembly, bear arms or otherwise. You are illegal immigrants, just as many white people were before you (Native American stab).

Black ancestors were brought to this country involuntarily. So, as far as they are concerned, they deserve the rights of everyone under the Constitution. George Mason intended it that way when it was originally designed.

My second point is this for my brethren to the South. You should not debate this issue. Why? Because, you too are of Native American decent (more than some considered Native American). The doors should be open for any and all Native Americans whether it be Mayan or Sioux. You are performing the jobs, most Americans are not willing to perform to better yourselves and your family. You should be requesting the walls and borders be removed for all Natives, not for rights in an already established set of laws defining the people as “illegal.”

It is believed that this will cause an economic consequence to the U.S. by allowing all of these people to enter legally. So, instead of bringing in cheap labor willing to work in the jobs most do not want, let’s send our jobs overseas, outsource to India and China, or open up the Free Trade Agreement to send the jobs over the border. Oh, wait…we already do that…and we lose revenue.

Did you know…

The treasury department has more than twenty people assigned to catching people who violate the trade and tourism embargo with Cuba. In contrast, it has only four employees assigned to track the assets of Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein.

I awaken to the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. I think to myself “this is an excellent way to start off the weekend.” Like a cartoon, I follow my nose down the stairs and find myself standing in the kitchen. With my bed-head still firmly in place I address everyone I can see through my squinty eyes with a “good morning.”

From behind me, I hear my sister respond in kind. It is at this point I realize that coming down fully dressed may have been a good preparatory step. Covering as much as I can with my hands, I head back upstairs using the back stairwell.

After performing a quick triple “S” and dressing a bit more appropriately, I head back downstairs. It is at this time I feel it is more appropriate to greet my sister. I forgot about her coming over before the first weekend opening. I sat and shoveled down a half dozen cinnamon rolls and my sister and I head out the door.

As we are walking around the square, the art booths are already full with artists and their wares. This is good because I wanted to place some art in the store to fill in some empty walls. I notice a beautiful impressionist painting of what looks like the town square at night. Perfect. I make my purchase and head toward the store.

Shae and Sydni are already in the store and everything is running. Apparently Sydni was very excited for her first day of work. Shae is explaining how everything works and showing her how Dad was stuck in the elevator earlier and how to open the doors from the outside if it ever happens again. I provide my trademark disapproving Dad look.

It is time to open the doors, so I make my way over and notice there are about 10 people already outside waiting for entry. “good morning” I address.

“Good morning, John” I receive as a response from someone I do not recognize. It in some way bothers me when I meet someone who knows me, but I don’t know them. It happens, but not often.

The customer walks through the store, picks up an item from the children’s section and makes his way back to the register. For the life of me, I can’t remember who it is. He appears older than me, is rather thin and frail looking and has gray hair. His leather appearing skin and deep wrinkles give the appearance that he was in some sort of manual labor job for many years.

When he reaches the register, he starts asking me how I am doing and where I have been hiding myself.

I provide him the small-talk version of my life and scan his book. “That will be $9.55.” It is not until he hands me his check card that the flashback begins. This was my childhood enemy. This is the boy who tormented me all of my school years. My emotions are going crazy.
During my childhood, I was the smallest, youngest kid in school. My nemesis was a jock on the football team. He would think it was fun/funny to intimidate me and I would take different paths to go from class to class. He would party with the “cool” crowd and make my life a living hell. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that I knew that I would only be in Clinton long enough to complete school.

My emotions were in conflict. I in some way felt the need to bring out my childish self and verbally assault him. I also felt pity for him. He appears to have had a very bad life after high school. I also felt this elation because I know where I am in my life and I had this “nahnahnahnah, nahnah” feeling.

Gaining control of my emotions, I hand him back his card, and thank him for shopping.

To my surprise, he asks me if I would like to grab a beer later. Without even thinking of whether or not this is another ploy to cause any embarrassment, or without thinking at all, I respond with “Sure.” He tells me to meet at Zugs whenever I get off of work.

The rest of the day, I couldn’t help but to wonder if this was a trap. I would think of all of those times he would slam me into lockers in gym; how he would humiliate me. I would think about how frail he looked now compared to the big and buff jock in high school.

At the end of the work day, after much deliberation, I decide that with him being the frail one now, I have nothing to fear.

As I walk through the front door of Zugs (one of the many local bars), I notice him sitting at the bar talking with (gasp) an old childhood friend. Apparently the owner and operator of Zugs is one of my best friends. I really haven’t had a chance to catch up with everyone since I moved back to Clinton.

My old nemesis sees me walking toward him and lets out a very loud “John! Glad you could make it!”

My old friend, Mike, looks over at me and exclaims, “It’s about time you came over here!” Mike gives me the “guy handshake” and asks me what my poison is.

“Long Island iced tea” I respond. Looking at my childhood villain, I stated that I was really shocked to see him still in Clinton.

“I never left.”

These three words were actually unexpected. I fully expected him to go to some party/sports school and become some used car salesman. During our childhood, he was a pompous, pretentious ass.

After many drinks and some long stories, I find out that his family was very poor and he was raised by only his Dad. Right out of high school, he went to work for his father. He married and divorced and married 3 more times. He has no children of his own and spends most of his off time here in Zugs. What happened next floored me.

He apologized. He apologized for everything he ever did to me.

Speechless.

I looked at him and said that with my four kids, I have come to realize that we do stupid stuff as kids. “Why did you buy a children’s book?”

“It is for my nephew. His birthday is in a couple days.”

After closing the place down, I head home. On my walk, I reflect on all of the people that affected me during my childhood and how I was during my childhood. It is amazing that I made it to where I am. I have closure now on one issue with coming home.

It is sunny outside and the weekend approaches. This weekend is the Arts Fair where all of the artists from Central Illinois come to show their works in the town square. Most of the non-profit groups will be setting up their booths and the town is setting up the tents for the artists. The Art Fair pulls a lot of people into town and with the people, come the money.

The Art Fair is not the only festival Clinton holds, May Day is like a carnival type of festival and the Apple and Pork Festival has the biggest draw each year basically closing down the town. The town of 6500 instantly turns into 100,000 for the Apple and Pork Festival.

Working with the Chamber of Commerce, we came up with other ideas to draw attention to our little town such as:

The fishing tourney out at Clinton Lake
The Arts Fair
The Antique Auto Show
The Corvette Show
The Motorcycle/Chopper Show
Lincoln Days (Abraham Lincoln performed law in Clinton and made the famous quote, “You may fool all the people some of the time; you can even fool some of the people all the time; but you can’t fool all of the people all the time.”)
Kids Expo (a huge open area exposition for toy suppliers, sports equipment companies and so forth to show off their wares)
Sidewalk days
And multiple rallys, walks, and runs

It has always been my belief that if the town would welcome all of these different groups, the income would help the town as a whole.

After arriving at work (I only call it work…it is more like fun), I discover the elevator has already been repaired. I have such a resourceful sister. Shae came in and prepared for the day. I called the battered women’s shelter the Queen volunteers at to let them know I need additional help. The Queen informed me that part of the reason women are in battered relationship is due to a lack of self-confidence and self-sufficiency. So, if I can help one women gain control of her life by providing her own income, I am more than happy to help.

I walk through the store to make sure everything is working and turned on, and proceed to open the door.

The day is not spectacular when it comes to sales, but it is steady. Tomorrow should be better and I will have additional help from my sister, Shae, and Sydni to cover everything. Hopefully, I will have a trainee as well.

The Art Show is set up and the bandstand is getting loaded up for tonight’s concert. Spurgeon’s is sponsoring the band from Salisbury, Maryland tonight. Well, sponsor is not quite the right phrase. You see, Red Letter Day are actually friends of mine. A few years back, I created and maintained the http://RedLetterDay.com web site. I never charged them and informed them that there would be a time when I would collect. So, the band tonight is free of charge. Additionally, I get to see some old friends. They are spending tonight in the hotel which was another favor.

When the concert starts, the standard thanks went out to Spurgeon’s, and the concert begins. It is a nice night and with everyone watching the concert, the store was empty. We all came out to watch and relax. I decided to close the store a ½ hour after the concert and head home.

Not a terribly eventful day, but that is exactly what I wanted.

I awaken to the soft rain falling on the window sill of the bedroom window. I love the smell of the rain covered street. I lay there and soak it in right before noticing that I have overslept this morning. The clock reads 9:30 and the store is suppose to open in a half hour. I skip the shower and throw on my clothes and dash out the door.

The light shower I appreciated from the warm confines of my bed is rapidly turning into the downpour soaking me throughout. In my hastiness to run out the door, I figured an umbrella would slow me down. I turn my usually mild walk into a winded jog. I manage to get to the store just in time to shed my coat and unlock the door.

I am opening by myself today. Shae has her Tuesday/Thursday college schedule and at this point, I have no backup for her. I didn’t think I would need it. My poor planning will make today a bad day. After unlocking the door and let about 10 people enter, a rather large man with a notebook walks into the store. He walks directly to me to state my delivery has arrived.

That’s right. I am staffing the bookstore by myself and the delivery of the new kids section books and equipment have arrived. How in the world am I going to unload the truck AND man the register? I guess, it is time to call in reinforcements.

The other end plays this wonderfully light and airy voice “What?!”

“Hi Honey, I have a problem…”

“So do I, your daughter has decided it is OK to punch the teacher. I have to head to the principals office now and try to keep her from being suspended.”

“Oh…so there is no way you could come stand at the register huh?”

“What do you think?”

“Um…You take care of the school issue. I will talk to you later.”

This is not my day. I was almost willing to let ANYONE come and stand by the register so I can unload the truck. I really need to bring on a backup for Shae. I decided to call my neighbor Curt. After all, most of his work is in the evening so maybe he can give me a hand. Curt owns the theater.

Curt wearily answers the phone and informs me he can help me out. He will be here in about 30 minutes. Good news…finally. Now all I need to do is keep the driver from dropping all of my stuff off on the sidewalk and driving away.

After Curt arrives, I head back to the truck and start taking inventory of what needs to go to the basement. I continues to rain rather heavily so, I need to make it quick. The elevator is set for the back supply entrance so I don’t have to keep calling it. First off the truck is the big screen TVs. This shouldn’t be a problem, load them into the elevator and head to the basement. Well, except for the fact that they weigh a ton, it was not too bad. I don’t think I broke anything.

Next come the smaller boxes. I really don’t want to make any more trips to this truck so I loaded the elevator to the top, signed the receipt, and pressed the down button. Do you have any idea WHY they place a weight restriction on elevators? Apparently it is to allow them to open the doors back up.

I am stuck, in my own elevator, with my own inventory packed around me like a pickle in a jar of pickles. Not good. What do you do when you are stuck in the elevator? Push the red button.

Curt slowly meanders (well it felt slow to me) to the elevator door and screams “You Stuck?!”

As I kiss the front door I respond, “In more ways than one! Call someone!”

Curt places the call and the fire trucks race around the corner to my store. The fire station is one block away. They just need a reason to turn on the sirens.

After the firemen manage to open the basement elevator door and extract me from the boxes, I thank them and wish them well. After all of this…and with the elevator temporarily out of commission, I decide to get a drink. As I head upstairs, I notice the store is rather full, and with Curt behind the register stands the Queen and Avery.

The Queen is staring at me like “you idiot” while inside I know she has to be laughing her ass off. It is at this point I am nearly ready to close the store and try again tomorrow. I thank Curt for his help and he heads over to the theater. Not much longer and my sister will be here.

After emptying out the elevator, Jan arrives and I am more than thrilled to leave for the day. It is bowling night and I am in need of something good to happen. I will deal with getting the elevator to work again tomorrow.

I am off to the bowling alley. The bowling alley is actually on the edge of town about a mile from my house. It is not huge or fancy, it is just a bowling alley. But it has leagues and even though I don’t bowl well, they like my handicap.

Unfortunately, we are bowling against VJACK. VJACK is one of the better bowling teams that tend to whoop on everyone they are up against. This weekend is our weekend. I knew that the way this day had gone so far, there was no possible way we could beat them.

My first game, I bowled fair. I bowled my average and the team as a whole only lost by 35 pins. Not bad considering who we were up against.

The second game however, we were pummeled. There was absolutely no way we were going to win the series and by losing the second game by 70 pins, it was possible they would make us take off our bowling shirts and leave right then.

However, the third game went a little differently. VJACK was bowling very well. As a team, they were running about 50 pins above average. But I had bowled 6 strikes in 6 frames. This was not making VJACK happy at all and the team began the heckling campaign to have me break my streak.

Eighth frame and still the strike were coming. Now I stand at the bottom of the lane in the tenth frame looking at the pins with my ball in hand. People have started to congregate around to see if I could really pull off a 300 game. If so, this would be my first and more than likely, my last.

As I release, I can hear the ball holes hitting the boards as it heads toward the pocket…STRIKE! A loud cheer comes from behind me and I prepare for the next throw.

I can feel my palms start to sweat with all of the pressure coming on my shoulders. I release the next ball and can feel it as soon as I release it…STRIKE! I keep my emotion as calm as possible. I know this will require everything I have to keep from just fainting on the lanes.

My thoughts are: don’t cross the line, second board from the right, shake hands, stop sweating dammit. I can feel my heart beating in my chest. I am focusing as much as humanly possible and at the same time…I have to pee.

I have to pee. I take a minute to quickly run to the bathroom and pee, wash my hand from all of the sweat and come back to the lane. There it is. Ten pins keep me from the perfect game. I step up and make my approach.

When I release, the ball lets off a pop. “That’s not good” I think. The ball still heads for the pocket but I am less than hopeful. As it hit, I see the 5 pin standing there until the 7 pin comes across and…STRIKE! WOOOHOOOO! It doesn’t get any better than this.

After all of the congratulations, I head home. Today, was an excellent day.

It’s another beautiful day today. It is a little bit warmer than yesterday, but still not bad. I have a lot on my plate today. I have to present for the Central Illinois Bookstore Owners Group at the Clintonia and I have plans to see the movie at the Clintonia tonight as well.

The Clintonia is an old movie theater that collapsed in the late 80s. The building was torn down and until this year, never saw the light of day. The town could not really support a new movie theater by itself so through an ingenious twist, the chamber of commerce came up with the new format theater.

This theater makes money during the day as well as the night. During the day, since the Magill house does not have conference facilities, it is used to host conferences for the small forums. You see, this is not your standard theater with stadium seating and Dolby Surround Sound.

This theater has half moon tables and chairs on the main floor level and the balcony is all stadium seating. The half moon tables make it so the wait staff can provide meals during the movie or conference. This is a dinner movie theater. Just last week, the theater ran Ice Age 12 for the kids and served the standard hot dogs, popcorn, chicken tenders, mac and cheese. For the Bookstore Owners though, we are having a choice of prime rib, rosemary chicken, and some vegetarian option that interest me in the very least.

I am actually presenting on new technology for bookstore owners to include the DVD sampling software we created for Spurgeons. After the store opened there was a lot of interest for purchasing the software and using it in other stores.

I enter the theater to get the presentation software in the theater manager’s hand. I also brought the interactive model on my laptop that I can tie into the projector. After going through the front doors, I can’t help but notice the snack bar is not there. There is a snack bar on the upper level by the balcony area, but not the main level. There are only a couple doors to enter the main theater area. The ceiling is high and the stamped tin reflected in all of the buildings throughout Clinton is gorgeous.

Going through the main doors, the balcony looms over my head. The burgundy color of the walls is only interrupted by the candle style lighting sconces on the walls. The black marble-top tables are spaced evenly around the room except for the back couple of rows which are long bar-style seating.

The presentation went well. The bookstore owners had a large interest in the new technology and the service and maintenance agreements. I have a good feeling the news of the technology will spread and this may end up being a spin-off business.

I head back to the store to check to make sure everything is in order before heading home. Tonight, the Queen and I have plans to come back to the theater for “roll-back” night. Roll-back night is a playing of an older movie where the people attending have to dress the part. Tonight however, we will be attending as more of a participant than just dressing up and watching the movie.

When I get home I have to remember to get a paper bag and throw in toilet paper, the spray bottle, glowstick, newspaper, rubber gloves, party supplies and a deck of cards. Oh, and my I.D. The theater will be serving alcohol tonight so I need to make sure they understand I am over 21 (hey, it is MY Utopia).

I arrive home and run upstairs to begin dressing in my attire. The Queen is already ready to go and her Mom has Avery for the night. The temperature has dropped to around 55, so I grab my jacket and we head out the door. It is a five block walk, so to prevent the possibility of drunk driving, we take a leisurely walk.

The people are assembling in front of the theater in their best garb. The amount of people who are attending tonight’s roll-back is as high as when Grease played last month. Up on the neon light marquee are the magic words creating such a cast of characters for a town of only 6500 people “Rocky Horror Picture Show.” It has been years since I last participated in a Rocky Horror and to have the opportunity again is a real treat.

For those of you who have never attended a Rocky Horror Picture Show in the 21 years it has been playing in theaters across the nation, this is not your ordinary movie. There are transvestites, aliens, Transylvanians and Meat Loaf. The movie is mostly interactive even though it didn’t really start that way. There are queues when to say something and the articles in my bag are for parts of the props. This movie, you are encouraged to throw things, talk and just cut loose.

This is especially a treat for me because this is the Queen’s virgin voyage to Transylvania. I truly enjoy it when she gets to experience something new, and this is definitely an experience.

After we are seated, the waiter comes to the table with his handheld wireless order-taking thingy, and I order the steak sandwich platter and a long island iced tea. The Queen orders the Rueben and a cape codder. Within a few minutes, the order is being brought to the table and the lights dim.

As we are leaving the theater that evening, I have to wonder how much work it will be to clean up that mess. Granted, the floor is all tables and chairs, but with all of that toilet paper, that is a lot of work. The owner thanks us for coming as we leave and wishes us a happy evening.

The temperature has dropped a couple more degrees making it necessary for me to walk arm in arm with the Queen for warmth. She is all smiles and the moonlight against her hair is mesmerizing.

We arrive home. I escort her upstairs and finish the night off perfectly. I hope we didn’t wake the neighbors.

I wake to the sunshine cutting through the curtains of the bedroom window. I hear the light wind blowing through the leaves of the big oak tree outside the window. I smell the bacon my wife is cooking on the stove downstairs. I lay there and gaze out the window with pure pleasure.

As I finally move my eyes to the clock, I realize it is 8:30 and I determine it is time to get up and get moving. I sneak out of the bright white comforter and step onto the deep cherry hardwood floor and pick out my clothes from the dresser. I can feel the warm sun against the back of my neck. I step into the master bathroom and turn on the shower.

After taking a long, refreshing shower and clothing myself, I head down the back stairs directly to the kitchen where the Queen has prepared breakfast. As she is placing my plate at the table, I can see her silhouette through the sundress from the light coming through the kitchen windows. I do love her so, and with that light I can’t help myself from holding her. She smells like fresh laundry.

After eating the best breakfast imaginable, I give my wife a quick kiss and head out the door to work. The commute is a killer. The four block walk to the square can be fraught with the dangers of a small town like the one car that comes by the intersection every minute or so.

The temperature today is 65 degrees so it does require my light jacket. I walk past the gas station, the church and the post office before actually arriving on the square. The square in made up of all older buildings fully restored to the splendor of Thomas Kinkade. The Victorian-style courthouse in the center of town was torn down in the 80s. Now, there is a building that looks exactly like the old courthouse on the outside but is an amphitheater used for plays, concerts, fund-raisers and proms.

As I walk around to the North side of the square, the shop owners are setting up their stores and greeting me with a simple “morning, John.” I respond in kind. I walk by the fully restored Magill house (a building I helped to restore with about 100 other volunteers) and pause for the visitors to the hotel/spa to pass.

I continue on to my store and unlock the back door. Today is an exciting day. I want to make sure everything is in order before I finally open the front doors. I walk over to the elevator and take it out of power saver mode. I turn on the escalators leading to the second floor and ride them to the second floor. I think to myself “how cool is it that I own an elevator and escalator?”

As I arrive on the second floor, I head toward the back corner and begin flipping light switches. The pin lighting recessed in the ceiling illuminates the entire room. I open the front shutters on the windows and let the sunlight fill the room. Isn’t it beautiful…an entire floor of music and video. I make sure the video samplers and music samplers are working as they should by doing a quick scan of each.

We have been preparing for this day for months and I want to make sure everything is functioning as it should.

I ride the elevator back down to the main level. I begin flipping the switches again flooding the room with pin lighting from the stamped tin ceiling. The smell of the books is invigorating and I begin to tear up knowing that the dream has finally become a reality. The dark blue background with the oak bookcases contrasting against them makes the floor look like a proper library.

When I hear the back door beep over the security system, I regain control of my emotions and anxiously await my daughter Shae’s entry. She comes skipping into the back entrance looking forward to actually seeing the hard work turn into money in her pocket. I know in Utopia, your kids would normally work for free, but I want my kids to make their own money. So for me, this is perfect.

She runs up to the third level office area to drop off her jacket. The clock nears the 10 o’clock hour, and I begin to worry that the rest of the family may not make it here before I have to open the doors.

It is 10:00. Shae is standing behind the counter. My wife and other kids are not here. I have to open the doors. I move to the front, unlock the door and pull back the blinds to turn the sign and there standing first in line is the Queen, Sydni, Jami and Avery. The line is not huge (about 25 people), but it is big enough for us. The rest of the people in line thought it would be nice and funny if my own family were the first customers.

I gave my wife and kids a big hug and kiss when the customer toward the back exclaimed “Are you open or what?!”

In embarrassment I stood aside and held the door open. “Welcome to Spurgeons.”

Spurgeons is not a new name to Clinton, but it has been missing for a very long time. When I was in high school Spurgeons was a department store in the same building. When I found out that Wal-Mart had gotten the best of the place, I made a vow to open Spurgeons back up. Not as a department store necessarily, but as a store. Other stores have come and gone since that fateful day, but my dream has never faded.

One of my Mom’s old friends came up to me and gave me a big hug and said “I am glad you came back home. Your Mom would be so proud.”

Business throughout the day is not swamping us as much as just busy. The kids (out on Spring break) always headed toward the music and video sections upstairs. Everything is running as it is suppose to and I am seeing people I had not seen for quite some time entering the store and wishing us well.

At 5:00, it is time for me to head home. The store does not close until 9:00, but I managed to have my sister work the evening, weekend and closing shifts so I can do other things throughout the week like bowling and theater.



As I near home, I look up at the pristine architecture of my Victorian house. I walk in through the front door step into the office and check my email. I can smell the pork chops and rice cooking.

I hope all days are like this.

So, you may not believe this because I can usually write a lot about nothing, but this assignment my wife has given me is impossible for me. I actually have writer's block on this subject. I have tried repeatedly to just start writing, but nothing comes to me (at least about this subject). I didn't think this was going to be hard at all and I find this is a challenge I cannot muster up enough brain cells to even create the starting paragraph.

Hopefully something will stir soon. Meanwhile, check out my wife (QueenSuchandSuch).

I know I haven't blogged lately, my apologies. I took a trip back to Clinton to just look around, eat some hometown food, and scout other life altering possibilities. I caught up with a classmate, and a Mom of an old friend. I am still recognized in town and some of the people I graduated with have returned back to Clinton to make things right.

It is interesting how many people are making this change back to our home town life at my age.

After having a not-so-long discussion with my wife (QueenSuchandSuch) about all of this, and after hearing about what her goals and wants are for her life, we figured it would be easier to write for one week about what our Utopian days would be like.

This will include everything from waking up to going to sleep. Each day for one week you will receive a glimpse into what my day would be like on my site, and what her day would be like on hers. We are going to TRY to get the kids (WarriorInside and CheerSydni) involved in this as well.

For the entries, we will try to described the sights, smell, sounds, taste...everything, so the entries may be long. I will have good days and bad days alike. I will also not have the usual point involved for this will be more of a journal entry style, rather than a blogger's post style. Additionally, I will not have my usual "Did you know..." section.

This brings me to my last point for a week (as I almost always have one). Please understand, this is for our family to sort out priorities, and wants and needs. I appreciate the readers I have, but for the next week, it is all about me. Sometimes, you just have to write about yourself, your dreams, your needs in order to figure it out for yourself, or to help loved ones understand you better.

The location for my entries will take place in Clinton, Illinois.

Did you know...

People with initials that spell out GOD or ACE are likely to live longer than people whose initials spell out words like APE, PIG, or RAT.