Say, what's that in your queue? Department
Since there's nothing ever worth watching on TV, I bit the debit card bullet again and re-activated my NetFlix account.
To my relief I still had 57 movies parked in my queue. But to my horror, the queue that is mine just mailed me:
La Strada - Special Edition
A Face in the Crowd
Ikiru
I can't believe those are movies I'd pick. Not even if I was trying to be nice or do someone a favor.
Wow. Wonder if there's a computer virus that causes such things?
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Caution: Contents Are Perishable
On an October Sunday morning about 12 years ago, I drove home from the McCant's track and found my house on fire. Firemen, ladder trucks and police cars were already on the scene and I remember thinking, "But I haven't been gone that long."
A newspaper reporter found me on the sidewalk and said, "People are usually crying and screaming when they see their houses on fire. Why are you so calm?"
I shook my head and shrugged, "What else can I do?"
---
If you've never had a house fire it might be hard to imagine how it feels once the police have finished their reports, after the firemen have rolled up their hoses and headed back to the station, after the gawkers have stopped staring, lost interest and wandered off hoping they caught good something in their cameras.
You're left alone with what used to be your stuff.
It's not just the crushing sense of helplessness, of being overwhelmed by the fierce suddenness of events or even the pity-provoking barbs like, "Why me?"
There's also a numbing awareness that Today, I Am the Other Guy ... and that so far as all the people watching the story on tonight's local news are concerned, your fire and its aftermath only lasts as long as it takes for the screen to blink with the next big tragic story.
---
Having fire insurance is great when you need it, but "Full Content Coverage" only works on paper ... because who's gonna pay for emotional repairs and replacements? What amount can replace all the things that, only a day before, had seemed irreplaceable? What amount can change me back from being The Other Guy?
---
If I had a point when I started, it's gone now and I can't remember what it was. Except perhaps that a fire has a profoundly painful, permanent way of re-ordering your priorities and outlook.
And not to trust or rely upon the security or pursuit of material possessions ever again.
A newspaper reporter found me on the sidewalk and said, "People are usually crying and screaming when they see their houses on fire. Why are you so calm?"
I shook my head and shrugged, "What else can I do?"
---
If you've never had a house fire it might be hard to imagine how it feels once the police have finished their reports, after the firemen have rolled up their hoses and headed back to the station, after the gawkers have stopped staring, lost interest and wandered off hoping they caught good something in their cameras.
You're left alone with what used to be your stuff.
It's not just the crushing sense of helplessness, of being overwhelmed by the fierce suddenness of events or even the pity-provoking barbs like, "Why me?"
There's also a numbing awareness that Today, I Am the Other Guy ... and that so far as all the people watching the story on tonight's local news are concerned, your fire and its aftermath only lasts as long as it takes for the screen to blink with the next big tragic story.
---
Having fire insurance is great when you need it, but "Full Content Coverage" only works on paper ... because who's gonna pay for emotional repairs and replacements? What amount can replace all the things that, only a day before, had seemed irreplaceable? What amount can change me back from being The Other Guy?
---
If I had a point when I started, it's gone now and I can't remember what it was. Except perhaps that a fire has a profoundly painful, permanent way of re-ordering your priorities and outlook.
And not to trust or rely upon the security or pursuit of material possessions ever again.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Blue Light Special
DNR must be rounding up the bad guys, cause I just saw their blue light lights flashing outside the marina channel.
Now it's way past my bed-time, but have a Happy Fourth of July ... and it sounds like a war's happening outside my window.
Ooops. I meant port. And berth-time, too.
Now it's way past my bed-time, but have a Happy Fourth of July ... and it sounds like a war's happening outside my window.
Ooops. I meant port. And berth-time, too.
Perfect Gadgetry
(humor)
Being a guy makes me fond of gadgets. Especially gadgets that can do amazing and seemingly impossible things.
Here's one that's out of this world:
It's the KVH M3 DX high-definition marine satellite TV antenna. The dome measures just 18" across but it's still capable of receiving picture-perfect satellite TV signals as far as 200 miles offshore.
Here's the coolest part: the M3 DX has a sophisticated built-in satellite tracking system of gears and aiming devices, so you can still watch TV while your boat's crossing the Gulf Stream toward Bimini.
That's right, you can watch satellite TV even while your boat's moving. How cool is that?
That kind of technology comes at a steep, steep price ... and I wonder how disappointing it might be to scan through the menu of 500+ program choices and realize that even with a $5000 antenna, there's still nothing worth watching on TV.
Being a guy makes me fond of gadgets. Especially gadgets that can do amazing and seemingly impossible things.
Here's one that's out of this world:
It's the KVH M3 DX high-definition marine satellite TV antenna. The dome measures just 18" across but it's still capable of receiving picture-perfect satellite TV signals as far as 200 miles offshore.
Here's the coolest part: the M3 DX has a sophisticated built-in satellite tracking system of gears and aiming devices, so you can still watch TV while your boat's crossing the Gulf Stream toward Bimini.
That's right, you can watch satellite TV even while your boat's moving. How cool is that?
That kind of technology comes at a steep, steep price ... and I wonder how disappointing it might be to scan through the menu of 500+ program choices and realize that even with a $5000 antenna, there's still nothing worth watching on TV.
"Man On Fire" - 2004
(movie review)
I liked this one a lot. Denzel Washington's terrific as Creasy, the burnt-out bodyguard who's struggling to keep his client alive ... and with his addictions as well. Doesn't hurt either that the screenplay included more than a few blistering quotes:
Elderly Man: In the church, they say to forgive.
Creasy: Forgiveness is between them and God. It's my job to arrange the meeting.
Pita: Dear God, I do not ask for health or wealth. People ask you so often that you can't have any left. Give me, God, what else you have. Give me what no-one else asks for. Amen.
Rayburn: Well, you know what they say. A bullet always tells the truth.
Creasy: Okay, my friend. It's off to the next life for you. I guarantee you, you won't be lonely.
Creasy: There is no such thing as tough. There is trained and untrained. Now which are you?
I liked this one a lot. Denzel Washington's terrific as Creasy, the burnt-out bodyguard who's struggling to keep his client alive ... and with his addictions as well. Doesn't hurt either that the screenplay included more than a few blistering quotes:
Elderly Man: In the church, they say to forgive.
Creasy: Forgiveness is between them and God. It's my job to arrange the meeting.
Pita: Dear God, I do not ask for health or wealth. People ask you so often that you can't have any left. Give me, God, what else you have. Give me what no-one else asks for. Amen.
Rayburn: Well, you know what they say. A bullet always tells the truth.
Creasy: Okay, my friend. It's off to the next life for you. I guarantee you, you won't be lonely.
Creasy: There is no such thing as tough. There is trained and untrained. Now which are you?
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
So Many Angry People
If they are thirsty, give them something to drink,
And they will be ashamed of what they have done to you.’
High Noon in Dodge/DNR City + photo update
End of an Era?
DNR showed up today in full-force with a fleet of patrol and enforcement boats drawn from as far away as Charleston, accompanied by a regiment of State Highway Patrol and local deputies. There was even a BAT wagon parked near the public launch ramp reserved for offenders.
You'll probably learn more about what's going tonight on the FoxCarolina News. But it seems pretty clear that the wild, untamed lake is about to feel its first sting of barbed wire ... and the lawless weekends of rumegades, beer-rustlers, and drunkeradoes riding its waves have come to a sobering halt.
An unnamed marina regular agreed and squinted off into the sunset, "It's been too much for too long, and now there's a new sheriff in town."
-DNR deputies at Ambush Pass: waitin' to Head 'em up & move 'em out.
DNR showed up today in full-force with a fleet of patrol and enforcement boats drawn from as far away as Charleston, accompanied by a regiment of State Highway Patrol and local deputies. There was even a BAT wagon parked near the public launch ramp reserved for offenders.
You'll probably learn more about what's going tonight on the FoxCarolina News. But it seems pretty clear that the wild, untamed lake is about to feel its first sting of barbed wire ... and the lawless weekends of rumegades, beer-rustlers, and drunkeradoes riding its waves have come to a sobering halt.
An unnamed marina regular agreed and squinted off into the sunset, "It's been too much for too long, and now there's a new sheriff in town."
-DNR deputies at Ambush Pass: waitin' to Head 'em up & move 'em out.
Man, you gotta be kidding me
Been taking the past two weeks off from working with Mike (The Asphalt Mariner) to take care of a few odds and ends regarding travel plans.
But otherwise, during an average work day I'd estimate Mike's cell rings about six time an hour, with calls ranging from owners who've locked themselves out of their boats to guys who'd love dropping $30,000 worth of iron hardware on their motor mounts because they heard somebody else talking about the latest-n-greatest new engines just out from the factory.
Sometimes Mike even fields calls from strangers who can't find their way to the lake, and takes time to do his best to help first-timers get their boats out on the water.
See, Mike's a marine technician ... and I'm guessing 80% of boat owners here at the marina have Mike's cell number near the top of their phone's speed dial. Not that they expect to be calling with an emergency any time soon (much less for solid advice about preventative maintenance) ... but it's reassuring to keep Mike's number handy for any unknown, unexpected Just In Case situations in the future.
Boat owners are human after all, and until something breaks there's a tendency to keep on driving a boat until the propellers fall off. That's usually when Mike's phone starts ringing, and folks usually expect him to drive right over and fix their problems Right Now because Nobody's problems are more important to me than mine.
Everybody wants their boat up and running in time for the big Fourth of July celebrations, so here's an entirely hypothetical situation. Let's say Mike's phone rang just a few minutes ago with an urgent call from an overwrought owner ... someone he barely knows, because this person doesn't call very often.
That is, unless he needs something.
This guy's voice is shaking, trembling badly, because he just realized his boat needs new red, white and blue pin stripes. And he wants them Hand-Painted. That's right, not the adhesive easy-to-apply stick-on kind like the factory uses. He wants his stripes hand-painted because nothing impresses like hand-painted stripes impresses.
Wow.
Free-hand paint striping is notoriously difficult and migraine-inducing work but he's already whining that his old stripes are peeling off, and make his boat look tired and filthy.
As though Mike didn't already know his stripes were peeling. Or that the reason the stripes are peeling is because the guy's been too busy eye-balling bikini waxes to think much about washing and waxing his boat.
Oh, and by the way. This guy says he's real busy right now, and it's too much trouble for him to trailer his boat out of the water. So he wants the new stripes painted on while the boat's still tied up in its slip. That's right, while it's bobbing around on a moving dock like a cork dropped into a washing machine.
Oops, there's just one more thing ... he wants those stripes finished and ready to go in time for the 4th, which is the day after tomorrow. Mike I know you're real busy, but I'm begging you.
This guy sheepishly admits he's "got company coming" and wants his boat "looking good."
Ah ... so he want to impress the newest girlfriend ... which also explains why he's already called Mike six times so far this morning. Look I know it's a lot to ask, but can you help me out just one more time?
Let's overlook for a minute that July 4th rolls around on pretty much the same day every year. And forget that the guy's known for the past eight months that his old stripes are fading.
Also please forget that the same guy called Mike three weeks ago because trash had somehow found its way into his head (toilet), clogged his pump, and his boat smelled like a sewer that's been flooded since the Middle Ages.
And finally let's not mention that besides a clogged toilet his boat is otherwise in great condition, absolutely seaworthy and entirely fit for service ... and that most folks at the marina would give their right rudder to have it.
Of course the guy had no way of knowing at the time whether Mike was already booked solid for the next 8 weeks, but surely he knew that Mike wasn't responsible for clogging his head with trash.
Instead, he just assumed that no other boat owner's problems were as important as his (or smelled quite so bad).
Maybe he was so insistent because he believed he'd actually done something for Mike in the past (besides burn up his air time moaning about his boat's problems), and so now Mike owed him one ... something really huge ... and Mike wouldn't mind driving across the county late on a Saturday night to spend four hours in a bilge filled with stink to unclog his toilet.
Nope, the only thing that mattered three weeks ago was that he had "company coming" (meaning a girlfriend) and wanted his boat to impress her ... which would be quite difficult, considering the splendid odors wafting from a commode that had been choking since Valentine's Day (when his previous girlfriend dropped by for a visit).
Funny, he didn't mention anything back then about needing new hand-painted stripes ... the idea hadn't even occurred to him: this guy's problem is that a week ago his neighbor got a newer, bigger, faster boat ... and now new hand-painted stripes seem like his way out.
Just one more thing to add about this guy: it's interesting how eagerly he shares details about his vast wealth and material fortunes, but once the work's been done and he's back out riding around the lake, this customer also just happens to be a bit forgetful about paying his bill on time.
Even though he's never forgetful about remembering Mike's number ... because a Just In Case might happen at any time, and usually when he leasts expects it.
So go figure.
---
Like I said, this is all just hypothetical and this customer doesn't actually exist, I promise.
But imagine you're Mike listening on his end of the phone, hearing this customer spill out the desperate, urgent reasons why he can't live without new hand-painted stripes in time for the Fourth. The guy has a hard time admitting he's jealous of his neighbor's bigger, faster, newer boat. Or that there's a new blond babe in a bikini he can't wait to impress.
Keep imagining that you're Mike, and that you've already taken a dozen calls from other boat owners facing real crises ... like structural damage caused by last week's storm, or an engine that's dangerously overheating, or a bilge pump that needs immediate replacement to keep a boat from sinking.
Where do you think Hand-paint new stripes is gonna go on your list of today's To Do's?
This customer and his situation is made-up, but in real life Mike always says exactly what he's thinking. So I can shimmy out on a limb and guess it's awfully close to what God might be thinking when he hears some of the urgent, desperate things ... not so different from new pin stripes ... we're used to asking for in prayer.
But otherwise, during an average work day I'd estimate Mike's cell rings about six time an hour, with calls ranging from owners who've locked themselves out of their boats to guys who'd love dropping $30,000 worth of iron hardware on their motor mounts because they heard somebody else talking about the latest-n-greatest new engines just out from the factory.
Sometimes Mike even fields calls from strangers who can't find their way to the lake, and takes time to do his best to help first-timers get their boats out on the water.
See, Mike's a marine technician ... and I'm guessing 80% of boat owners here at the marina have Mike's cell number near the top of their phone's speed dial. Not that they expect to be calling with an emergency any time soon (much less for solid advice about preventative maintenance) ... but it's reassuring to keep Mike's number handy for any unknown, unexpected Just In Case situations in the future.
Boat owners are human after all, and until something breaks there's a tendency to keep on driving a boat until the propellers fall off. That's usually when Mike's phone starts ringing, and folks usually expect him to drive right over and fix their problems Right Now because Nobody's problems are more important to me than mine.
Everybody wants their boat up and running in time for the big Fourth of July celebrations, so here's an entirely hypothetical situation. Let's say Mike's phone rang just a few minutes ago with an urgent call from an overwrought owner ... someone he barely knows, because this person doesn't call very often.
That is, unless he needs something.
This guy's voice is shaking, trembling badly, because he just realized his boat needs new red, white and blue pin stripes. And he wants them Hand-Painted. That's right, not the adhesive easy-to-apply stick-on kind like the factory uses. He wants his stripes hand-painted because nothing impresses like hand-painted stripes impresses.
Wow.
Free-hand paint striping is notoriously difficult and migraine-inducing work but he's already whining that his old stripes are peeling off, and make his boat look tired and filthy.
As though Mike didn't already know his stripes were peeling. Or that the reason the stripes are peeling is because the guy's been too busy eye-balling bikini waxes to think much about washing and waxing his boat.
Oh, and by the way. This guy says he's real busy right now, and it's too much trouble for him to trailer his boat out of the water. So he wants the new stripes painted on while the boat's still tied up in its slip. That's right, while it's bobbing around on a moving dock like a cork dropped into a washing machine.
Oops, there's just one more thing ... he wants those stripes finished and ready to go in time for the 4th, which is the day after tomorrow. Mike I know you're real busy, but I'm begging you.
This guy sheepishly admits he's "got company coming" and wants his boat "looking good."
Ah ... so he want to impress the newest girlfriend ... which also explains why he's already called Mike six times so far this morning. Look I know it's a lot to ask, but can you help me out just one more time?
Let's overlook for a minute that July 4th rolls around on pretty much the same day every year. And forget that the guy's known for the past eight months that his old stripes are fading.
Also please forget that the same guy called Mike three weeks ago because trash had somehow found its way into his head (toilet), clogged his pump, and his boat smelled like a sewer that's been flooded since the Middle Ages.
And finally let's not mention that besides a clogged toilet his boat is otherwise in great condition, absolutely seaworthy and entirely fit for service ... and that most folks at the marina would give their right rudder to have it.
Of course the guy had no way of knowing at the time whether Mike was already booked solid for the next 8 weeks, but surely he knew that Mike wasn't responsible for clogging his head with trash.
Instead, he just assumed that no other boat owner's problems were as important as his (or smelled quite so bad).
Maybe he was so insistent because he believed he'd actually done something for Mike in the past (besides burn up his air time moaning about his boat's problems), and so now Mike owed him one ... something really huge ... and Mike wouldn't mind driving across the county late on a Saturday night to spend four hours in a bilge filled with stink to unclog his toilet.
Nope, the only thing that mattered three weeks ago was that he had "company coming" (meaning a girlfriend) and wanted his boat to impress her ... which would be quite difficult, considering the splendid odors wafting from a commode that had been choking since Valentine's Day (when his previous girlfriend dropped by for a visit).
Funny, he didn't mention anything back then about needing new hand-painted stripes ... the idea hadn't even occurred to him: this guy's problem is that a week ago his neighbor got a newer, bigger, faster boat ... and now new hand-painted stripes seem like his way out.
Just one more thing to add about this guy: it's interesting how eagerly he shares details about his vast wealth and material fortunes, but once the work's been done and he's back out riding around the lake, this customer also just happens to be a bit forgetful about paying his bill on time.
Even though he's never forgetful about remembering Mike's number ... because a Just In Case might happen at any time, and usually when he leasts expects it.
So go figure.
---
Like I said, this is all just hypothetical and this customer doesn't actually exist, I promise.
But imagine you're Mike listening on his end of the phone, hearing this customer spill out the desperate, urgent reasons why he can't live without new hand-painted stripes in time for the Fourth. The guy has a hard time admitting he's jealous of his neighbor's bigger, faster, newer boat. Or that there's a new blond babe in a bikini he can't wait to impress.
Keep imagining that you're Mike, and that you've already taken a dozen calls from other boat owners facing real crises ... like structural damage caused by last week's storm, or an engine that's dangerously overheating, or a bilge pump that needs immediate replacement to keep a boat from sinking.
Where do you think Hand-paint new stripes is gonna go on your list of today's To Do's?
This customer and his situation is made-up, but in real life Mike always says exactly what he's thinking. So I can shimmy out on a limb and guess it's awfully close to what God might be thinking when he hears some of the urgent, desperate things ... not so different from new pin stripes ... we're used to asking for in prayer.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Haulin' Metal
What'd you pray for this morning?
Something important, maybe ... like help financing a new big screen TV? Maybe it's a promotion or a special favor from the boss at work?
Or was it something really important ... like a reward, and asking for an overnight delivery at your doorstep to help sort out your dating life?
Where's Asking God to put you in the place where you could impact the most people for Christ on this morning's list?
---
I only know what I read, and you can read what I read here, posted on 2 July.
Norm's been following Christ and is a key volunteer at his church. But before he received Christ, Norm committed some crimes ... and now he's facing five years in prison.
Just before his sentencing, Norm's pastor asked what he needed praying for.
Norm didn't ask for prayers not to be sentenced to prison. Nor did he ask for better grades, a pay raise, a job promotion, a new house or car nor for God to upgrade his dating life.
Norm asked instead that "God place him where he could tell the most people about Christ. If that was prison, so be it."
Ok, that's some weight right there.
Because Norm's haulin' metal ... big time.
Something important, maybe ... like help financing a new big screen TV? Maybe it's a promotion or a special favor from the boss at work?
Or was it something really important ... like a reward, and asking for an overnight delivery at your doorstep to help sort out your dating life?
Where's Asking God to put you in the place where you could impact the most people for Christ on this morning's list?
---
I only know what I read, and you can read what I read here, posted on 2 July.
Norm's been following Christ and is a key volunteer at his church. But before he received Christ, Norm committed some crimes ... and now he's facing five years in prison.
Just before his sentencing, Norm's pastor asked what he needed praying for.
Norm didn't ask for prayers not to be sentenced to prison. Nor did he ask for better grades, a pay raise, a job promotion, a new house or car nor for God to upgrade his dating life.
Norm asked instead that "God place him where he could tell the most people about Christ. If that was prison, so be it."
Ok, that's some weight right there.
Because Norm's haulin' metal ... big time.
Sure seemed like fun at the time
"Irrelevant Personal Experiences: this post is worth skipping" Department
A 4th of July fireworks display was scheduled near the Hartwell Dam on Saturday night, which inspired me to give mental birth to the spectacularly stupid idea of driving Calypso over to Horseshoe Island and anchoring out for the night, to avoid the inevitable dockside craziness sure to accompany the party fleet's return to the marina (surely a few would still be sober enough to find it).
Trouble was, I had no idea what time the fireworks actually started or ended.
Once I'd left the marina and was merrily underway, what I cruised into instead was the Drunkenly Blind Armada (a moniker I made up myself to include every houseboat, Go-Fast boat, over-powered bass boat and mid-life crisis cruiser aimed at high speed in my direction, intent upon running me aground or otherwise scaring me silly with their ineptness) on their way back from the show.
Yikes.
I tried counting all the red and green lights whizzing around me but gave up soon as I started. Yes there were that many ... at least 50 boats heading in 360 different directions all at the same time, at speeds varying from I think my engine's broke all the way to I'm outta beer and the nearest store closes at 11.
Yea it was stressful.
At one point I literally had to drive into four feet of water on the inside of an orange Danger: Shallow Water buoy to avoid a possible collision with a sport cruiser whose driver seemed determined to blind me with his search light so I couldn't ID his hull number and lodge a complaint.
Or maybe he thought I was one of the UFOs you hear about people spotting on the lake after dark. After the beer's all gone.
In the background the VHF radio slowly filled with a breathless exchange between a man and a woman that became so luridly salty (that's a nautical term) and explicit in detail [I woulda switched off the radio, except that by law boaters are required to monitor Channel 16 while underway] that DNR actually came on the air and made firm, "All stations, be advised this channel is reserved for emergencies."
So that ended that: DNR's not known for fooling around or giggling a whole lot at sexual innuendos on busy 4 th of July boating weekends.
The inlet at Horseshoe was empty when I arrived so I weighed anchor, tuned in to Sss's grumblings on the FM for a few minutes before nodding off, and enjoyed three hours of fitful, miserable near-sleep in the sauna of Calypso's 90+ degree heat (gotta see about getting that generator fixed one day) before driving back the next morning in time (barely) for the 11:15.
Anyway the point is, now that the stress of being surrounded and menaced by simpletons steering small ships is behind me, seeing the green, red and white lights whizzing past was pretty cool ... a lot like riding a golf cart through a tunnel filled with technicolor fireflies might be like.
But neither Saturday night nor even a Star Wars jump to hyperspace could match the time my old friend Don & I were on motorcycles roaring down from the mountains, east-bound on I-70 heading into Denver at night ... just in time to catch a late-season snowfall.
Piloting a motorcycle through falling snow at interstate speeds at night sure sounds like utterly reckless nuttiness right now ... but it sure looked cool at the time.
A 4th of July fireworks display was scheduled near the Hartwell Dam on Saturday night, which inspired me to give mental birth to the spectacularly stupid idea of driving Calypso over to Horseshoe Island and anchoring out for the night, to avoid the inevitable dockside craziness sure to accompany the party fleet's return to the marina (surely a few would still be sober enough to find it).
Trouble was, I had no idea what time the fireworks actually started or ended.
Once I'd left the marina and was merrily underway, what I cruised into instead was the Drunkenly Blind Armada (a moniker I made up myself to include every houseboat, Go-Fast boat, over-powered bass boat and mid-life crisis cruiser aimed at high speed in my direction, intent upon running me aground or otherwise scaring me silly with their ineptness) on their way back from the show.
Yikes.
I tried counting all the red and green lights whizzing around me but gave up soon as I started. Yes there were that many ... at least 50 boats heading in 360 different directions all at the same time, at speeds varying from I think my engine's broke all the way to I'm outta beer and the nearest store closes at 11.
Yea it was stressful.
At one point I literally had to drive into four feet of water on the inside of an orange Danger: Shallow Water buoy to avoid a possible collision with a sport cruiser whose driver seemed determined to blind me with his search light so I couldn't ID his hull number and lodge a complaint.
Or maybe he thought I was one of the UFOs you hear about people spotting on the lake after dark. After the beer's all gone.
In the background the VHF radio slowly filled with a breathless exchange between a man and a woman that became so luridly salty (that's a nautical term) and explicit in detail [I woulda switched off the radio, except that by law boaters are required to monitor Channel 16 while underway] that DNR actually came on the air and made firm, "All stations, be advised this channel is reserved for emergencies."
So that ended that: DNR's not known for fooling around or giggling a whole lot at sexual innuendos on busy 4 th of July boating weekends.
The inlet at Horseshoe was empty when I arrived so I weighed anchor, tuned in to Sss's grumblings on the FM for a few minutes before nodding off, and enjoyed three hours of fitful, miserable near-sleep in the sauna of Calypso's 90+ degree heat (gotta see about getting that generator fixed one day) before driving back the next morning in time (barely) for the 11:15.
Anyway the point is, now that the stress of being surrounded and menaced by simpletons steering small ships is behind me, seeing the green, red and white lights whizzing past was pretty cool ... a lot like riding a golf cart through a tunnel filled with technicolor fireflies might be like.
But neither Saturday night nor even a Star Wars jump to hyperspace could match the time my old friend Don & I were on motorcycles roaring down from the mountains, east-bound on I-70 heading into Denver at night ... just in time to catch a late-season snowfall.
Piloting a motorcycle through falling snow at interstate speeds at night sure sounds like utterly reckless nuttiness right now ... but it sure looked cool at the time.
In case you tried calling
My phone's dead b/c the charger's broke.
And it only took two days to figure this one out so see, I'm actually getting better.
And it only took two days to figure this one out so see, I'm actually getting better.
Dismal Performance?
I gotta admit I started off in a bit of a funk yesterday morning at the 11:15.
Arriving in the nick of time at 11:10 AM, soon as I stepped into the atrium I heard a woman's voice call my name. I looked up and down, to the left and all around, but never recognized a face or saw who it was.
Besides, I was hurrying because I was supposed to meet a guy (a NS member and volunteer; he's also got an awesome tattoo in Hebrew I might wanna copy for myself) for the service but he must've given up ... because he wasn't in the place where we'd agreed to meet. My baaaad.
So as the counter counted down and I settled into an empty seat all by my lonesome, as usual, and folks I didn't recognize arrived to sit on either side, I realized that my closest friends (and the ones I'm used to sitting with) all share something in common: ORP (who used Twelve Stages of Insistence to finally convince me to Just Go One Time), Fran, Valerie and Sss were all going to NS a long time before I was.
I should feel comfortable and be used to sitting beside folks I don't know or recognize after all this time, but not yet I'm not.
Hmmm.
I also realized that of all the folks I've invited to visit in the past 3 years only three have actually showed: TPW, her son Karl, and Kathey. Just three in three years.
My personal success (or failure?) record, considering the thousands of people who were there, seemed abysmal and disappointing because every Sunday there's more and people showing up with new faces. I glanced behind me and thought Well, maybe somewhere in those 2500 seats are some of the people I've invited, and I just don't know they're there.
But then it doesn't really matter very much whether people accept my invitation, or if my Personal Record of Invitations Accepted seems abysmal and discouraging.
What's important is that somebody's invitations are being accepted ... in HUGE NUMBERS from all over the Upstate ... and somewhere in those seats are people who're there not because of me or my invitation ... but because they needed to hear about accepting Christ's invitation instead.
So from where I'm sitting, whether with friends, acquaintances on staff or beside total strangers, in the balcony or in a folding seat in the atrium, what matters is knowing that God's there and about to rock somebody's world ... and not whether I know the name of whoever's there beside me.
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I've got the attention span of a fly turned loose near the dessert table at an outdoor bar-b-q and if you're like me, grew up bored witless in church, thought worship music was borrowed from funeral parlors, hated dressing up to "look holy" and "fit in" or thought that preaching taught straight from The Bible was irrelevant, dusty and outdated, don't give up yet because there is something more... Just Go One Time.
Arriving in the nick of time at 11:10 AM, soon as I stepped into the atrium I heard a woman's voice call my name. I looked up and down, to the left and all around, but never recognized a face or saw who it was.
Besides, I was hurrying because I was supposed to meet a guy (a NS member and volunteer; he's also got an awesome tattoo in Hebrew I might wanna copy for myself) for the service but he must've given up ... because he wasn't in the place where we'd agreed to meet. My baaaad.
So as the counter counted down and I settled into an empty seat all by my lonesome, as usual, and folks I didn't recognize arrived to sit on either side, I realized that my closest friends (and the ones I'm used to sitting with) all share something in common: ORP (who used Twelve Stages of Insistence to finally convince me to Just Go One Time), Fran, Valerie and Sss were all going to NS a long time before I was.
I should feel comfortable and be used to sitting beside folks I don't know or recognize after all this time, but not yet I'm not.
Hmmm.
I also realized that of all the folks I've invited to visit in the past 3 years only three have actually showed: TPW, her son Karl, and Kathey. Just three in three years.
My personal success (or failure?) record, considering the thousands of people who were there, seemed abysmal and disappointing because every Sunday there's more and people showing up with new faces. I glanced behind me and thought Well, maybe somewhere in those 2500 seats are some of the people I've invited, and I just don't know they're there.
But then it doesn't really matter very much whether people accept my invitation, or if my Personal Record of Invitations Accepted seems abysmal and discouraging.
What's important is that somebody's invitations are being accepted ... in HUGE NUMBERS from all over the Upstate ... and somewhere in those seats are people who're there not because of me or my invitation ... but because they needed to hear about accepting Christ's invitation instead.
So from where I'm sitting, whether with friends, acquaintances on staff or beside total strangers, in the balcony or in a folding seat in the atrium, what matters is knowing that God's there and about to rock somebody's world ... and not whether I know the name of whoever's there beside me.
---
I've got the attention span of a fly turned loose near the dessert table at an outdoor bar-b-q and if you're like me, grew up bored witless in church, thought worship music was borrowed from funeral parlors, hated dressing up to "look holy" and "fit in" or thought that preaching taught straight from The Bible was irrelevant, dusty and outdated, don't give up yet because there is something more... Just Go One Time.
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