Saturday, March 8, 2025

E.P.W.S.

 
...the greatest advertising slogan ever invented.
  

The above is an indoor putting green I bought a year ago.  It's basically a few boards cobbled together and some green fabric.

You putt on the fabric, hopefully drop the golf ball in one of the 2 holes, and it's returned to you.

It's completely analog - no power source, no internet connection, no virtual reality - which means you actually have to do something.

Physical.

In the real world.

This automatically excludes pretty much everyone born after 1990 - 

"Do I really want to shell out my hard earned simoleans for something you don't even turn on?"

- so the manufacturer wanted to put some compelling advertising on the package to entice the modern buyer.

Deep in thought, caught on the horns of a dilemma, the punter suddenly spots the clincher, tucked away in the upper right corner of the package:


EPWS...that's it!

[Advertisers know "environment" has become one of those unassailable sacred cows against which no argument can succeed.

They could have also gone with "climate", but that particular trigger word comes with some scary baggage...


...so "environmental protection" it is!]

At first blush it might seem to be a non sequitur, a completely unrelated statement as pertains to putting greens.

My advice:  don't break your brain trying to understand all the scientific intricacies of how this wood and cloth contraption protects the environment, or even how it can achieve that noble goal sans stink.

The key to your enlightenment is acceptance.

In the absence of intellectual comprehension, it becomes as an article of faith:

"This putting green does in fact protect the environment diligently, faithfully, odorlessly and for that we should give our thanks (and $$s)."

Henceforth, remember...when you need to sway the stubbornly skeptical with an argument so ingenious it's impervious to rebuttal:

ESWP.

No wait, that's ESPW.  Dang it!  EPSW?

Ah forget it; you know I mean.


Week #1 of the Crying Man diet...


...is in the books, and Karen reminded me this is our 12th year in a row of willfully subjecting ourselves to this ritual torture.

Weighed in at 211 and managed to shed 5 lbs without resorting to any form of amputation or surgery.

But let's face it...the 1st week is always the easiest.

You've set your mind to the task at hand, commitment is high, determination has not yet been buffeted by the harsh winds of deprivation and your certain collision with The Wall is yet future.

So while we may not have breezed through it, we held our own, we're still standing.

And this year we have another arrow in our quiver with which to fight the enemy:  <Walkfit>

We didn't sign up for anything just reviewed the type of exercises they do from a youtube video, and adopted some of them for our own use.

So far this daily workout routine has been ok and seems to be helping.

In my younger days I would have laughed to scorn...


...anyone touting this as a "real" workout.

Marching?  Step back punches?  Knee taps?  Shade pulldowns?

Puh-leez.

However, as I near the close of my 7th decade topside of planet earth, there's no denying my youth has fled like a coward before the schoolyard bully of advancing years.

Sadly, as it hit the exit it took with it those glorious days of 2 hour weight lifting workouts.

Nowadays I settle for an exercise bike and a Total Gym, so this Walkfit program suits us pretty well.

And it’s not as bad as those “walking like a dork” routines from the 80’s when people swung their arms wildly as they double timed it down your sidewalk -

"Mommy, what are they doing?"

"Never mind sweetie, just don't make eye contact."

but I'm afraid it does shade itself under the same family tree.

As long as no one sees us doing it, I think we'll be okay.

It's bad enough our cats are witnesses - I can tell they’re questioning our position in the pecking order - but so far they haven't told anyone.

We hope.


Before you parachute to safety from the living heckhole that is the AMC, you still have to level up on 23 Skidoo...

that's Ukraine's ambassador Oksana Markarova wishing for a different life as Zelenskyy sabotages his countrymen and proves he's as pointless as that extra "y" in his last name.  <way to listen to the dems, Z!>


I can dream, can't I?


it's been a few years so we decided to re-watch all of the Downton Abbey seasons.  look at that cast of characters!  writer / creator Julian Fellowes endowed each with their own unique history and personality, then seamlessly blended them all together into one overarching, coherent story...amazing.


karen snapped this pic of an early march sunrise while herding cats this week. "are you EVER going to take down the Christmas lights??"  there.  I said it for you.


it looks cold because it is - yes, that's ice on the little pond.  desperate men, doncha know.  but hey, the snow's gone...for now, anyway.




I'm reading through Ecclesiastes in my devotions at the moment.


I firmly believe God included it in His Word as a pointed warning of what life is without "God sense":

A confusing, repetitive, contradictory existence "under the sun".

It's all horizontal, no vertical relationship.

I once heard an atheist college professor claim this was the only book of the Bible he actually understood, and that makes perfect sense.

It's a completely accurate rendering of The Preacher's thought process as he despairs over the pointlessness of achievement, success, wealth, power.

"Vanity of vanities," he laments cynically, "all is vanity!"

Throughout his "trial and error" life journey The Preacher records his observations, and he learns.

By the end of this travelogue - which God in His wisdom preserved for our benefit - The Preacher finally rises above his "life under the sun", "vanity of vanities" limitations and arrives at his destination:


Truth.

later, mcm fans...



Saturday, March 1, 2025

May Not Look Like Much...

 
...but in my world, this is a glorious sight.  

Ain't pretty, but after a long winter that's a little bit o' paradise right there.

In no time I'll be outside swinging my hickories and embarrassing myself again.

too soon?

Can't wait.

in honor of it being March 1st, the AMC is officially changing seasons.  don't care what anyone says, <it's spring!>  no, really; it is.


Had a minor setback with my wooden subset / ringer box for my candlestick phone:


After lots of tinkering and advice from a couple of antique phone enthusiasts, we've finally concluded it's simply the 100+ year old wiring/components:


One of the guys I've been talking to is currently in Arizona for the winter but asked me to send him the subset when he's back home in April.

The bells work, but the induction coil and/or the condenser could be suspect.

I may just try replacing the 9 old wires with new and see what happens.

Until then I'm back to my metal subset/ringer box...

gotta admit, that polished black bakelite and metal is a classy look

...which works fine.


I've had an increasingly ominous feeling of nameless disquietude creeping over me for the last couple of months.

Aye, it's an ill wind that's been a-blowin' and today I finally realized why:


Yep, it's the annual return of Crying Man And The Dreaded Diet, slated to begin on Monday.

Not positive what my starting point will be - I still have a couple of days to cram moon pies and cream puffs down my gullet but I'm predicting somewhere around 212 lbs.

And as usual, the goal is to lose 15 lbs or so.

I'm hoping for rapid success, because past experience has shown it doesn't take too long before Crying Man morphs into...

"Hey!  I'm getting sick of this diet!"
- I.M. Yelling

...followed shortly thereafter by...

"That's it, I'm having a cheeseburger and pity the fool that tries to stop me!"
- Angry Man

Yeah, that guy.


Not much shakin' in the 23 Skidoo department this week, to wit:

starting to break winter's iron grip

there's normally a flagpole in the middle of that shot, but 50+ mph winds caused me to remove it for now

Ol' Man Winter may have taken one on the chin, but it's def still heating season

just because I like it


part of Karen's Crocus Hall teapot collection



Even though March is <nulla magna quatit>, it's really nice to finally be done with February.

We're still at least a month away from consistently nicer weather, but soon we'll be enjoying longer days and warmer temps.

Plus March is also the namesake month for a <distant relative> of mine...


...though as a general rule we don't speak of him.

Now, as you rush the exits, please to ponder this eternal truth:


later, mcm fans...




Saturday, January 11, 2025

How Would You Like A Career...


...that involves enough travel...
to circle the globe 6 times?

Exciting prospect, yes?

There is a catch, however.

Much of the time you'll be living in remote areas with no electricity or running water, ministering to a people descended from a warrior nation:


The Zulus of South Africa, during the dreadful apartheid years.

Enticing?

For most people, the answer to that question was a resounding no.

But for the family of a friend of mine...

my friend Peter is the young lad standing on the far left

...the answer was "Here am I Lord; send me." (Isaiah 6:8).

Through their decades of service to the Lord, they really did travel enough miles to circle the globe 6 times as they made repeated trips from the states to South Africa, as well as the European continent, Britain, Norway and Israel.

Beginning in 1946 and ministering under the auspices of The Evangelical Alliance Mission (TEAM), Peter's father and mother were involved in training African pastors, overseeing the building of a 175 bed hospital at the top of a mountain, 300 miles from the source of their needed supplies, as well as supervising area churches and 30 different schools.

What was life like for Peter, growing up in South Africa in the 1950s and early 60s?

He has fond memories of playing with a Zulu friend named Mgaai (Oom-guy-ee) and roasting flying ants on an open fire...

seconds, anyone?
 
...so they could eat them like peanuts.  Yum!

Another time he and Mgaii found a can of sardines...


...which they decided to share.

We should pause at this point to consult "The Chef's Resource" re: this "delicacy":

"Sardines are small, oily fish with a salty, briny and fishy flavor..."

Considering that ominous description, it’s impressive they actually ate them, but there's more:

They also used the remaining oil like an all over body lotion, because Zulus liked to make their skin shiny.

Predictably, you could smell them coming a mile away for a couple of days, and Mom was less than pleased.

But childhood in South Africa was more than just exciting culinary adventures; when Peter was old enough he attended a boarding school, rooming with other boys his age.

Enterprising and resourceful, he used to read after lights out...


...by Nature's Nightlight: a jar full of fireflies he caught earlier in the evening.

He also got a job at a local bakery, starting work at 2 am, then attending school at the regular time during the day.

Why did he keep this punishing schedule?

So he could earn enough money to buy a 50cc Honda motorbike, of course.


Eventually his hard work and perseverance paid off, and he was one happy camper when he finally reached his goal.

No doubt he was also the envy of his classmates until that fateful day when he collided with a hapless dog on a tar road.

It's easy to imagine our canine friend casting his eyes heavenward wondering, "why me?" as he trotted away unscathed.

Peter, on the other hand, was left with the unenviable task of accounting for his ruined school blazer, which effectively turned the page on his Easy Rider days.

By his high school years he'd developed a love for rugby...

 
...swimming and playing tenor drum in the marching band.

On family vacations he enjoyed seeing wild life at the Kruger National Park of South Africa...


...and swimming in the ocean...


...off Durban, Natal.

By age 16 he was back in the states where he graduated high school, went to college, got married...


...and eventually had to choose a career.

What do you suppose he chose for his life's work?

No, he did not go pro...


...in rugby...



...or - to the relief of dogs everywhere - motorcycle racing.

Here's a hint:

Proverbs 22:6 says, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it."

Like his parents, Peter chose a life devoted to full time Christian ministry.

Serving as a pastor at several churches, he raised his family while preaching the gospel and shepherding his various congregations.

I met Peter when he was doing visitation work at several local companies, the one I work for included.

His friendly, open, easy going demeanor invited frank conversations about life's challenges, and through the years I've come to appreciate both his wisdom from and dedication to the Lord.

He's retired now, splitting time between California and Michigan where his children are, but he and his recently visited South Africa again, returning to several places his family lived and ministered so many years ago:

the hospital Peter's father helped establish


the hospital chapel Peter's father helped build and at which he held worship services


the hospital's doctor and administrator

So why am I sharing all of this?

Pretty simple, really.

One, Peter's a good guy who's led an interesting and impactful life, ministering to the spiritual and physical needs of those under his care.

That's worth sharing.

And two, because it's Scriptural to do so:


He's labored in the Word and doctrine for decades, and only God knows the souls saved and spirits lifted due to his faithful service.

I'll be fortunate if I get to polish a few of his crowns now and then when we both get to heaven.


Woke up this morning to find even more of my favorite form of precipitation blanketing the grounds:






Quite annoying, but I think I've found the source of the problem:

what the heck were we thinking?

...and hit upon the solution:

much better



Some encouragement on your way out the door:


later, mcm fans...