Mstone 6.18.06..Now just where is that phone?

Happy Father's Day.

hmm.

was really hoping to avoid having to write about Father's Day. Not that i don't think Father's Day is great thing.

or that Dad's don't deserve their special moment in the sun.

Intensive hours spent on research this afternoon revealed that.... since the early 1900's the 3rd Saturday of June has been set aside to honor family patriarchs. Lyndon Johnson made it official in 1966. Hurrah!

Yes, have absolutely no problem with writing about Father's Day in abstract. Therefore, that is exactly what i must do. Keep all this father's day talk figurative.

For it would be impossible to create summary of today's most excellent Mstone class led by BobDickson.com without referencing all this father phenomenon thing -- for that was point of your lesson wasn't it BD.COM? Fathers, the bible and the 10 commandments to be more specific.

Was out on Dixie Highway early this morning and was able to snap this amazing action shot of Steve Speyer heading back toward Wilson. Think he was communicating his E.T.A. to Jules at Wynbrooke so that his Father's Day eggs and bacon would be just right temp on table waiting for him.

Yes, this is great picture of Steve. if only his name were Lance and he was some Tour de freak. But am so happy that you joined the ranks of the cycling set. am sure that you are already miles ahead of me in your biking ability. As John has pronounced me a hopelessly average triathlete.

Well, i maybe average, but i am proud, darn it! that guy in the yellow jersey has nothing on me....except, 7 of them at home i guess.

but i am going to show mr. miles i too can be slightly better than average, or do better in my next tri-race than last. so good wife that i am always striving to be... queried john, "what did he want to do this Father's Day?" He answered, "Nap, then ride his bike"....in that order.

Great.

So i put joe and john down for their naps -- then it was out to do a little "speed work" to hopefully break the slightly better than average threshold.......

here i go.... 2 bottles of water in handy basket for it was desert hot today. Really was making good time. I had looked at my handy Chamber of Commerce Morgan County map before setting off and thought...such a great day... really should try a few twists to familiar routes.

Need to bump up that mileage. and that certainly meant more time in sun to lose this ghastly green pallor resulting from all those mornings dedicated to Bible School service last week. Yes, made few new turns, new roads, new vistas. Most Excellent sun time. All was great.... until..

Steve -- word to the wise -- on Dixie really aren't any dogs. this is a very good thing. On my usually traveled routes, i had made kind of standing.. "ok -- you can give me a little sh_ _ -- but not really mess with me," agreement with the dogs whom houses i fly by.

Well, was having such great day toodling along on trike, that i had forgotten that new roads cycled can mean new encounters with not so friendly unfamiliar canines. Had not remembered this fact till i saw them, and one in particular that was extremely mad that i had decided to ride past his territory.

i made it by and stayed on bike somehow, but they were really mean.

not a problem though, for i had looked at map before left mi casa and there was little road that i could jog across and get back to spot where i knew the heck that i was.

And most importantly wouldn't have to run the gauntlet past rabid central again. but as luck would have it when i got to spot of this safe haven road, what did i spy?

GRAVEL. Ugh! looking back up from whence i came.... the huge rottweiler -- spending his vacation days off from guarding the gates of Hell here in balmy Morgan County -- was parked in the middle of road daring me to return.

What did i do? what could i do? well, like an idiot. i chose the gravel. thought, the road didn't really look so long on map. But soon became apparent i was most hopelessly lost and most certainly would deflate both tires trying to get down this road.. but the stubborn mule that i am .. kept forging ahead.

Came to fork in road. guessed. half rode/half hobbled. it was insane. but then in distance saw paved road. Hurrah! all is saved. except spied 3 small houses between me and road. then i dawned on me, chances are there might be fellow canine friends between me and paved road. and now here i was like stupid sitting duck/frog on bike going along slower than the slowest snail.

house # 1 --- dog. boxer, tied up under porch., ok...make it past weaving along gravel popping under tire.

house# 2 -- huge white barking dog running at me. quickly spy there is a fence. and he seems contained. barking wildly at crazy frog woman idiotically covered in dust trying to ride bike over gravel.

house #3 -- dog. small white one, no fence. ok -- i can handle him. But the darn gravel is soooo big. Then i spy him, the little guy's friend. a very, very large black and white creature.. barking ferociously and plowing like a slobbering, crazed, wolverine barge towards me.

So here i am idiot frog, clipped/penned onto bike, about to tip over any second hopelessly trying to navigate shards of boulder size gravel speeding along at approximately 1 mph.

Yes, this is the kind of thing that my dad would be shaking his head over. how many times did he tell me, you are too old, a mother of 3 children no less -- with family history of coronary trouble (oh, guess the heart trouble argument thing is one of mom's favorite admonishments)

too be riding around the countryside -- God knows where -- by self on bike.

Ooops!

Milestone Class -- Father's Day 2006.
10:10:15 a.m. time is guess-ta-ment. for i arrived late.

Yes, there was very nice crowd gathered in our massive classroom for Bob Dickson's lesson. And as usual Mr. Dickson did not disappoint. Yes, we cracked open those bibles to Deut. 5:16 -- the Old testament -- no less.

"Honor your father and mother, as the Lord your God has commanded you, that your days maybe long, and that it may be well with you in the land which the Lord your God is giving you. "

Our man Bob.com pointed out to flock that the first four commands have to do with our relationship to God. And most of the other's are the shalt nots.

Two of these very important Old testament instructions are pro-verbish in nature. They require action rather than the absence of some type of immoral behavior.

"Why the importance on family," Bob asked. Laree observed that, "who we are -- and our families are -- will influence our culture for the next 200 years."

Jules remarked, "that you didn't chose your family." we really need to kind of make the best of our lot -- so to speak -- and ask God, "why was this Your will?"

KT -- "the family unit models our relationship with God." "We all are not perfect -- but we need to respect our parents."

the very lovely Cindy South observed, the first thing God did after finishing His 7 days of massive reordering "was to create the original family unit." God said he had made man in His image -- and the family was part of that unveiling.

Rick Wadsworth, mentioned the example of the Prodical Son. How the father was there waiting, and the first thing he did was to hug the son, after all the heartache, worry and disappointment the son had put his father through.

Broken window panes and little boys.

Rick told class how precocious Curry Wadsworth had managed to find a solid piece of glass in window to break -- not an hour -- after moving into beautiful new house. i was really starting to feel sorry for you Rick till i remembered that is what you do for living.

not breaking window panes -- but installing new ones. These type of things happen at our house and the garish, jagged reminder stays for months -- helping to cool the corner of Walton and Old Post. Glad some squirrel might sleep a little better because of massive frigid air escaping from Jake's room due to (more than one i think) broken panes. Airsoft madness. if i step on one of those God-forsaken pellets one more time..........

Pete made observation that family is how we all learn about relationships -- how we learn to get along with people. "you have to make this work."

But does it really work in most households? and is "getting along" really getting along or veiled civility? are we all just keeping it together for the sake of the cameras.

And then there is this Honor thing? What does "to Honor" mean?

Ruth sagely spoke, "You show honor in different ways at different stages in life." She mentioned how with aging parents "honor" maybe treating someone with dignity -- even when the demands of coping with the effects of time/age -- on our parents requires extreme love and patience.

Steve Speyer, "You can have love without honor and honor without love."

After some discussion, was kind of conclusion that both Love and Honor are choices. Choices how to act. Even when the emotion might not be there.

Aging parents, aging children.... how do we relate to each other? When should a parent let go? Honor thy father...

the Mad, Mad Bike trek:

i was so screwed. i was so mad. i actually was so mad at myself and mad at that beast coming at me -- i never was afraid.

it was more like... i stubbornly and most stupidly got myself into this fix. i am going down hard any second in this dust and gravel... and going to be painfully, devoured by this huge dog. yes, it was hot, dusty -- large fragmented rocks everywhere and down i went, attached to that blasted bike.

i fell hard. it hurt really bad. i closed my eyes preparing for teeth. and what did i sense?

first, excruciating pain in right leg re gravel impalings -- then felt whiskers, wet nose and being overtaken by huge, sniffling, slobbering dog. One who had magically transformed from hound of hell to some red-necked cousin of the grandest lifesaving Swiss Saintbernard.

That dog must have suddenly felt terribly sorry for pathetic amphibious bike woman -- bleeding and dust covered -- and was licking and sniffing me all over. Guess in some attempt to rehabilitate his image as man's best friend.

Was so prepared for mean dog, all this kindness caught me totally off guard. As i struggled to my feet and surveyed the damage -- great! heading to beach and right side of body will be sporting such lovely black and blues -- felt lump of emotion in throat.

Tears prepared to sprout. No, that would indeed be ultimate humiliation and complete confirmation that i am very average tri-gal. So let my new canine savior give me one final sniff and i clipped in and weaved toward the Promised Land -- pavement.

yes, all the way back up Doster toward Mad in my weakened state kept thinking about "what the heck am i doing?" Ruth and Rick's comments kept tumbling around in my brain. Ruth's thoughts on how we need to respect, honor and dignify our parents. And Rick, kept thinking about your response to my lament that my father still treats me as if i am 12 years old.

Think you said something like -- "well, why don't you stop acting like a 12-year-old and stop battling your Dad."

hmmm...

Guess that really is the heart of it. i am constantly battling my Dad -- for he does think of me as 12. He -- at 79 years -- worries, advises and admonishes about all the things i do that he can't understand or agree with.

Yes, think his greatest most maddening offense has always been -- then as now -- that he wants to protect me from everything. He also craves order and structure -- both of which i am hopeless to create -- and to be made to conform to that ideal would kill me. Order and structure (and a dinner table where we all sat every night and had a meal together) would probably be best for childrearing i have to agree -- but don't seem to have had the proper wiring installed in genetics to get those kind of things done.

But all that said, if the truth be told, the one thing my Dad did too much of -- was love me.

he wasn't perfect, isn't perfect -- but he was always there with almost too much love.

and that is why i didn't want to write about Father's Day. i don't want to think about all this stuff. it's just too deep. Because in so many ways we both won't change -- but in so many ways we have.

We are both older -- there is so little time left.

And that makes me mad too. Why does time go so fast. Why can't i make it perfect with my Dad?

no, guess it won't ever be perfect. we are way too much alike in the stubborn department. yes, rick was right. i just have to make peace with my earthly father. Stop battling with him.

and stop battling with my heavenly Father as well. For that was real lesson learned on bike ride. i am immature fool and there are only 24 hours in a day, seven days a week for my allotted time here. Time is passing -- what am i doing with it? Why am i trying to fix life's broken window panes by piecing together the unpiecable? Once they have happened would be better just to pop in new pane and move along.

and why does it take a humiliating, frustrating 1/2 mile trip hobbling down a dusty, gravel road in the middle of God no-place -- and a hard knocking down on my rear to get my attention?

Honoring Him or still wrestling with Him?

i honestly don't know. Only thing am certain of -- after this crazy, yet normal (in my life) dog/gravel road moment -- is that i should say thank you to my Dad.

and thank you my heavenly Father for giving me almost 43 years ago to the one who has so loved me the best way he could for all that time. it is that time thing.........time just goes so quickly.

but guess it is His plan. go figure.

thanks Bob for great job. you made me think way too much though.

Prayer Requests

Please pray for Bob's young friend, Dante. He is 19, finds himself in jail and has no family.

Keep those amazing Mad Methodists in Honduras this week in your prayers.

Karen Griffith asked for prayers for family members traveling to Rhode Island from CA via Georgia.

Michele Hoopengardner's aunt was in very a serious car accident while traveling through Canada with her husband. He is ok. She has very serious head injuries. Please pray for God's mighty healing touch on her and strength for all family members.

Announcements

the Mad VBS was an amazing success. really was such a team effort. Soooo many mstone's pitched in -- shouldn't try to list all for sure i would forget everyone. Julie, Laree and Margaret should be proud.

ok -- will regret this but will try to list.

Ruth -- unbelievable save with crafts., Stephanie, Carrie Hughes
Shelagh and Pam with snacks
Robin, Kristie, Shelley with recreation. think Bonnie was involved somewhere too.
Lori, Kat, Jennifer, Alisa, Lisa, Debra, KT, Julie B., Betty, Julie H., Mandy, Michele -- great teachers.
Jamie, John, David with me under the Honduran Flag.
Terry and Justin M.
of course, Troy.
am afraid i don't know who was storyteller.

the best part was seeing everyone smiling -- it was work -- but it always is fun.

We raised $1365.25 for Honduras. Couldn't believe those kids kept bringing in those rapidly designating envelopes with money everyday. God ways are indeed mystery.

our mstone treasury matched, coming to a grand total of : $2730.50 was raised.



God Bless, Good Week and Goodbye Spring 2006..

time to turn another page...

and Go call my Dad.

Cheers to you Julie....

Dear Jules:

am always late.

Really wish i could have stood up with glass in hand and gave very eloquent toast to you the other night.

But it is an impossibility for me. Must be some left over moot court trauma. Once get on my feet, it is like my thoughts are contained on some very small tape recorder and someone pressed erase.

Sitting there, as i was frantically trying to come up with something in brain -- just glimpses and pictures were floating through. Under pressure of time and get-up-on-feet performance anxiety, nothing cohesive was coming to me. No big surprise. Really wish i was extemporaneous toast giving kind of gal.

Guess -- one doesn't even have to be particularly good -- just bold. And i am not that either.

So here it goes. Just a tad late. If i had a little more gumption.. my toast to you in celebration of your 40 years would have gone something like this.....

"Dear Julie," (would have nodded to you, and most probably in steve's direction as well)

"The first time i spied you and Speyer family, it was after church one Sunday. Just happened to look back and Cris Lambert was knocking over people in enthusiasm to reach you and stevo before you ducked out the door. Who is this i wondered?

One of the first times we talked, remembered that you all had gone to Peachtree Road as well -- and that our beloved Susan Marshall had told you about another PRUMC family "the Miles" who had just moved out Madway.

Soon learned you were in house up by hospital. And that's really it for a while. Saw you around town here and there -- and then there was that moment john talked about in his toast when you stopped by the duplex. I was mortified. Why, i don't know? Didn't know you really. And knew you really didn't know us -- and that duplex was sooo symmetrical and yucky. Remember that place? ugh!

Know we became Mag Ladies at the same time.

But that all changed with the trauma to get HK and that first summer we did VBS.

You were the zebra. Troy was the "trolley guy." i was somebody also up on stage -- camp director or something. Can still remember Rob Jones' face in audience as i was mispronouncing "Elisha" over and over in the closing ceremonies. Knew i wasn't saying it right... but as have said, not really quick thinking on my feet.. so just blundered away. Really felt like i was letting the entirety of Methodism down. And for the record, i do know how to correctly say "Elisha" now.

Then there was the the actual creation of the huge cardboard trolley that was our back drop. That unbearably hot day out on your driveway. Steve, john and you - removed me from painting duties, not very diplomatically i might add. See even then, i was not really patient or into details. Both traits which don't bode well for a successful career with a paint brush. Oh btw -- glad to see that the white paint has finally worn off your driveway.

Remember soon after that was driving up to Athens for a doctor's appointment the morning of September 11, 2001. Started hearing very weird stuff on the radio. Have very distinct memory of calling you on phone -- since you were probably only local number i knew by heart -- and asking "what is the deal?" "is this for real?"

I was heading up big hill on 441 toward Sandy Creek intersection. You said that you were watching it on TV and it was really happening. Then you said something about how Steve had left on plane at 8-something that morning. There was little nervous laughter between us. After hanging up, they started talking about more planes being involved and remember becoming sick to stomach with worry -- esp. after was unable to reach you again by phone.

Yes, our dear Steve's airplane had been plopped down abruptly in Memphis. And took him a few days to get back home. But will always think of conversation with you on that very awful day. It is really funny how many times i remember it when i reach that spot on 441.

There were those trips to Butler. All us Miles' love all that crew. Too bad we can't make it to Crescent Beach with everyone this year. You need to have a Shrimp Buster for me. Though think john is the only one who has ever really had one. No, i am far more piggish when i get to beach for my seafood fix and am never satisfied with just one main item.

Will most definitely miss not seeing my Atlantic this year. Please tip your sun hat toward unit #218 for am so sad that we will not be spending week with that old the blue shag carpet underneath feet. Gazing at those old blue umbrellas now -- am really starting to have withdrawls for the old place.

Just remembered another favorite Crescent Beach early morning tradition. John and i with coffee on back deck eagerly awaiting the approx. 8:45 a.m. Steve Spurrier sighting as he is pulling out of driveway from home across street to make some 9 o'clock tee time. He was usually visor clad and sipping coffee. ok -- i still love that guy. go figure.

You and your Steve Superior are some of the only ones in town that know intimately of john's strange eating habits -- though guess Carrie Christie now knows more in depth after conversing with john on your front porch re his weird food habits. The Speyers have hosted us so many, many times and very thoughtfully prepared sometype of meat and some type of starchy something never complaining about lack of variety re someone's palate.

Here's to all those great after-VBS BBQ rib/margaritafest dinners. Thank you for sharing their (the ribs) secret with me. Actually thought of submitting it to Sunday School cookbook -- but decided no -- somethings are just better left a secret. Really need to keep some mystery in life and rib preparation.

Was considering sharing my prized margarita recipe -- mentioned it to john -- and he looked at me like i was crazy. Don't think it was the mass distribute of excellent lime concoction that bothered him. Think it was more that he could just imagine jamie miles under "margarita recipe" in the Sunday School cookbook. Well, as i have said and you of all people most definitely know -- i never could be a preacher's wife.

And guess that is the bottom to all this toasting you. You do know me pretty well. You have seen a lot of my not so flattering sides. You who are so organized, nurturing, disciplined, attractive, God-loving, so smart, very funny, amazingly patient (with wayward friends and husband) and great housekeeper. Seem to be able to put just the positive spin on my meager offerings -- and somehow make me feel great. darn it!

ok -- now as i have sat here and typed this -- really feel like i haven't done much better than if i had stood up and blabbered away. Just do know that for the past seven years, you have become one of those persons that God placed in my life for love and laughter -- lean times and good ones.

Like Oprah once said, "Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone to take the bus (or trolley) with you when the limo breaks down."

Here's to another 40 Mad years of limo and bus rides. Know one thing for sure, they will be filled with laughter.

Just wonder where that Mad trolley is anyway?

Through thick and thin ..... always with much love............ james

Mstone 6.10.06. Lemonade out of Lemons. or something like that. darn it.

today was one of those days.

One of those days when i felt the very highs and very lows of myself.

Was tired and hormonal -- so should have expected mood fluctuations.

Thought i was tired till i saw David Burbach backstage after end of Act 1 of 4th performance of Beauty and Beast.

ok -- D. Burbach, are you for real? i fall apart at the silliest of things --- you sitting there on floor of high school hallway with much younger equally tired looking Gaston fellow. and yet you are going to work tomorrow. VBS with us Wednesday and then Honduras next week. Good Grief man..how do you do it?

am worried about the Beast too. He must be tired. but think he did great job -- for i forgot he was Pastor -- until he was kind of killed. Then whispered to john that he might need to help out at 11 o'clock service as well.

This enormously large red bible is just what we were presented with in 6th grade at Orlando FUMC.

Witnessed Jake and all those amazingly cute confirmands in their official church ceremony today. They got really hip bibles with names on them. Alisa Angel when you called gathering all the names the other night -- thought it was just for a black pen on the inside script. But no, outside gold embossed. very nice.

It was such a great group of kids. When they all started out in kindergarten it was Jake, John Michael and -- the girls. Laura Margaret, Katlin, Jordan, Alyssa -- now there was such a crowd.

Bob Dickson and Katie Anderson -- you both have been so great. Just seemed like we started the 2005 -- 2006 school year a month ago.

Just seemed like they were in kindergarten a month ago.

it was one of those moments that kind of sneaks up on you. it didn't seem so long ago (at least in my strange existence) that i was one at rail. Now today was standing there with almost 13 year old -- surrounded by friends. Yes, this time we are the ones standing behind -- the ones in "the parent's" shoes.

the "parents" sitting in the audience with all the other "parents" watching the play.

just how did that happen? i ask that question so many times during the day lately -- kind of think God must be getting really tired of my thick juvenile disposition and be planning, plotting best strategy to help me grow up. if i were Him sometimes would just remove the problem -- the problem being -- me.

Milestone Class 6.10.06 10:06:010 am

Bob Dickson was in charge of our group today. And since this was indeed confirmation Sunday that is what we were discussing.

More specifically we started off class with a discussion of Baptism. just what does it mean in our Methodist belief?

Ok -- am going to make a disclaimer at this point.

Once again will remind readers that i am not a theologian -- and don't claim to be -- but in same breath i am trying to accurately convey the content of Bob's talk.

But, i do sometimes "space out", so hope i didn't do so at critical time in class -- but with all that said -- here goes.

Baptism:
1. not a point of salvation.
2. not an act on our part -- it is always initiated by God. Even with Jesus.

Mark 1:9 -- God was claiming His son.

From the day that we are born... God is calling us.

Now in the Methodist tradition, we believe in the validity of infant baptism. This is a symbol of how the child is then covered by God's grace till the time the child is of age to make a personal admission.

Baptism is either... a sprinkle, an immersion, or a pouring event.

When we make that decision --- we become justified in Christ.

Bob relayed how Kirk was instrumental in this journey of spending almost an entire year with this group -- meeting weekly -- to grow together, learn and figure out what Christ means to each individual student. The idea was to give each child enough information to make that decision.

About this time in class, Bob/KT left to go over to the sanctuary and Terry took over the discussion. Some asked questions about this whole idea of rededication. Stephanie Dickson asked if we all, "should be required to rededicate" ourselves sometimes between 12 -- 4o?

T. Massey offered that it really is your own assessment. Laree asked, "What if you miss your confirmation as a child?" Others said that they have known adults to go through class if they expressed desire.

Well, at this point i scooted out of class and across street --

yes, morning had started out usual -- waking up late -- hungry children, trying to get all dressed and out the door with John in less than 40 minutes. it was at this point had first parental failing realization. the note.

yes, Troy had called home and cell last week to request that we write a letter for Jake to be place in his bible. just leave it on the corner of Troy's desk. "John, did you write your letter?" i suddenly remembered.

"Yes." he replied. "Did you turn it into Troy?" this he possibly couldn't have remembered to do. "yes." he replied. hmm... major f-up! i'm thinking. i can't even get this right! oh yeah -- the "f" moment was referring another unbelievably "forgetful" one.

hopeless.

Well, got all off. and i sat down, took deep breath, prayed and penned note. i thought i could slip it to him later with sheepish grin -- that unfortunately, i feel he sees way too often from his mother.


11 a.m. Kirk gave great message. and before knew it we were called up to stand at rail with our babies.

Yes, here i was in the "mother's" shoes.. with all the other mothers. Ruth to my left. Alisa to my right.

and standing at the rail -- wondered what was going through Jake's mind. thinking was really glad John's hand was around my waist -- for could have gone weak in knees and keeled over causing son great mortification.

was very with God moment. looking at them all. All so grown up -- from those kindergarten days -- yet still so young and still so much of life ahead.

just where did i fit in? Felt like if i was getting a "heavenly review" at 42 -- really would come up short in so many areas. but at the same time it felt so good, to be up there with all the other parents. all my friends. yes, it was emotional, wonderful, weird and affirming all at same time.

the late afternoon VBS moment.....

am somewhat in charge of the mission segment for this year's VBS. poor Jamie Sarkin, has been assigned the dubious "clean up after Jamie M. -- me --" duty.

Actually kind of thought i had things under control. I had made couple of Honduran flags -- very VBS,made with felt and elmer's glue. and had john make few maps etc. Tomorrow, first VBS day, we were going to look at slide show from past Mad FUMC jaunts to La Ceiba. See, we have to fill 15 minutes for each class. john says 15 minutes, "no big deal."

hardened VBS camper that i am, i know 15 minutes with 30 rising 1st graders -- now, that is tough crowd.

So, that's when i had slight mental episode when i learned tonight that planned slide show -- was just that -- slides. No words, no music -- nothing but pictures that i had no personal reference. oh dear. total bust.

Couldn't call Jules. Would only confirm to her that i am dreadfully unable to handle what would be just a blip on the Jules or Margaret VBS radar.

yes. this is what happens in life. you make lemonade from lemons.

so i SCREAMED for approx. 15 secs.

felt somewhat better. then started to search on i-net re Honduras facts.

i learned main exports are bananas, coffee, shrimp. median household annual income $2050. now was really feeling bad that i was panicked by VBS blip. annual income $2050? Also was remembering how Scott Webb, said that people come up to them begging for bibles.

Begging for bibles. no wonder am in this fix. God must surely be telling me -- get your act together you spoiled brat -- so i was trying to get my "act together."

About that time -- phone rang -- it was John. He was at Tom Kerr's church tonight. He said that Tom had just returned from Honduras with group and that they had a DVD presentation they created that was all about the very church, pastor, the exact everything our mission team was going there to help on.

Tom was more than willing to drive John to this man's house -- copy the DVD -- so i could have it in the morning.

Ok -- just shook head. Evidently God will continue to work with me -- and he does care about this VBS mission project. guess He will use me to spite all my screwedup-ness. Don't know when i felt more humbled -- standing at the altar rail this morning or with phone in hand tonight.

all goes back to Grace. enough said.

Announcements

Talked with Terry this afternoon and this was the resulting dicussion about what to do with our massive Mstone treasury.

1. $2500 for cookbook.
2. sponsor 1 or 2 individuals for Honduras trip. $700 -- $ 1,400.
3. the Latino Athens VBS ministry. donate items when camp scheduled in July.
4. fans -- will do.
5. something to go in youth space in new building to celebrate confirmands. think idea was something like a large cross -- then to add plague with names for the sucessive confirmation classes. ballpark $1,000.
6. the class to match whatever VBS total raised for Honduran mission.

very good work Mstones!

jules birthday -- celebration wednesday. Valley Farm 7 pm.

Prayer Requests

Heather asked for continued prayers for the Browning family. They are still in middle of long, long recovery from car accident months ago. the 9-year-old Brian just left hospital.

God Bless, Good Week and
Good thing God also in the Honduran VBS loop.

Guess Not for Long........

Here is our beloved cat Simba.

Well, guess i should say here was our beloved cat Simba.

The rest of the story, from our great date at Ritz a few Saturday's ago -- was that we came home to our Simba lying at the backdoor. Very weird sad cry i had never heard before. Unfortunately, all was not well.

Simba was HK's little kitty. We adopted him from the Human Society -- but it turned out that he had been born in one of Troy and Kathleen's closets. Seems that they had picked up a stray wandering around Preschool and taken her home and -- kittens! (once again proving that no good deed goes unpunished.)

Yes, turns out our Simba was born on September 7 -- Jake's birthday -- a few falls go.

Remember there was no school, and trees were down all over town and on our lot a well -- because some hurricane had just blown through here. Yes, our Simba came into the world on a very weird abnormal stormy night. Rossi Spell had fed the litter as wee kittens up at the Main Street Vet. and i had just seen Rossi and Penn that Saturday morning out walking. She and i -- sitting on porch steps -- had just been talking what an amazing cat he was.

The way i look at it -- you are either a dog person or a cat person. Sure you can be an animal lover, but rare is the human who deep down does not prefer one over the other.

Put me in the dog camp. cats are way too independent. very love me -- just a little -- then leave me alone. now they do like to "hang out" with you in the same room -- but let's not get crazy with the affection.

Yes, though i am somewhat independent myself -- much prefer the worship of dogs. i mean how can you beat a great dog? Always up for walks, runs and they love lots of love.

but even the greatest of dogs is a lot of work, compared to the most finicky of cats. And low maintenance is priority around here now. Yes, a few years ago HK needed a pet. even the most outgoing and effervescent Beta fish in the whole world doesn't satisfy a child in that, "i want a pet mode." Saying prayers every night for a kitty. Crying buckets of tears for the dead Jingle -- a cat she couldn't possibly remember -- for Jingle expired when HK was 2. and if she did remember Jingle, she certainly would not be crying.

Jingle lived 14 years and was mean as a snake. i loved her. i guess. but it was a shallow, i love you because you are one of God's creatures -- and we have been through tons of stuff of together -- kind of love.


yes, that cat wouldn't see john's brother Jim for months -- but everytime Jim would at random appear in our house -- Jingle would attack him.

As full of every earthy vice Jingle was, Simba was brimming with love and tolerance. A living breathing ragdoll of a cat. On Christmas 2004, Santa brought him to us.

Yes, that cat would be subjected to all manners of kitty dress up, nights where HK held him captive in her arms asleep all night long, and being tossed to-and-from like some furry, flexible Garfield between 14 5-year-olds at HK's birthday. Yes, i must admit he was one-of-a-kind. and when we pulled up that Saturday night -- when i heard his very strange, helpless cry -- something was very, very wrong.

We made sure Hannie was asleep and got him inside. He had some type of wound on his leg. but you could tell, most probably all his nine lives were cashed in that night.

and in the morning before church, john had to find shovel -- from wherever jake had left it in the grass to dig up some worms to fish -- and go bury our sweet Simba on the lot next to my beloved Gator's final resting place.

We waited to tell Hannie, till after church and after lunch. John said on way home from picking up BBQ chicken at rec shelter HK questioned, "will Simba still be alive when i get six?" "i hope so." hmmm.

Well, Simba had died and we had to break the news to her -- she sobbed. she and john went out to grave and she sobbed.

What had happened to that cat? Initially, i thought that horrendously bad creature that tips over our trash cans nearly every night -- had gotten into battle with our Simba and done her in. And that is what we told our sweet HK.

But life is much, much stranger than fiction and the cause of Simba's death that we eventually pieced together -- was too freakish -- and most bizarre accident. So as far as HK is concerned, the "bad, old fossum," got him. not one of our very kind and sweet neighbors who is adoring husband, father and all around good guy who just seems to have way bizarre way of accidentally doing in -- small creatures. enough said on that.

Hannah kate over the next few days -- trying to work through her grief i'm sure -- asked, "if Daddy dies, are we going to bury him on the lot?"

Trish Jones -- neighbor, mother and wife of (well, said i wouldn't go into that -- and a promise is a promise) felt so terrible about our loss and volunteered to set all right. "What if i can get her a kitten?" Trish offered.

oh dear. the summer. all our plans. a kitten?

Well, Hannie was so heartbroken. "only if it is a male, " i definitely decided. only a male.. as un-"go chicks" as that sounds, boy cats are sooooooo much more easy going. And a word to the wise, if you tell Trish go ahead with something-- it's a done deal. Not 24 hours later she called -- there was a kitty -- and they would earmark him for Hannie when it got a little older.

in the mean time Trish and children traveled to Kansas City for sister visit. when they got back our kitten would be ready for delivery.

KC -- visited there long, long ago. remember lots of fountains. remember going to a Kansas City Chiefs game at Arrowhead Stadium. Do they still play at Arrowhead Stadium? am hopelessly out of sports loop now.

do remember gazing next door at where the Royals played and wishing they were playing (total George Brett fixation.) am really showing age.

remember bought clear plastic cup of sangria (think it was slightly over 3 tablespoons full.) Sangria? at a NFL game? was such a college chick at the time. yes, that must be only explanation.

well, trish and all made it back from Kansas. she called, "do you still want this kitten?" oh dear. This gal means business. ok -- told her, "we do." hmm.

Well, less than 3 hours later -- HK at Beauty and Beast play practice -- Jones children and mom show up on backstoop with little gray ball of fluff. it was so tiny really. First thought was, "it's so little -- can we keep it alive?" But it was hopelessly cute -- and trish had gone to sooooo much trouble. "what the heck..." we had a new member of the family.

Picked HK up from practice that night and told her as pulling into drive, "there's a little surprise for you." "A surprise?" she chirped. "Is it a toy?" "No," i answered.

"is it dessert?" -- why she thinks dessert would constitute a surprise i have no idea. she basically lives on sweets. Totally outsmarting any attempt i make to have her consume any thing that once grew in the ground and that hasn't been processed beyond recognition. "no," i answered again.

We got inside. and john had the wee kitty in his hands. Think she was very thrilled.

slept with the little critter all night long. i was kind of scared for the tiny thing. It's teensy rib cage felt like a healthy sparrow's.

But HK was amazingly gentle and thankfully Joe was amazingly not interested.

So "kitty" made it the first 24 hours.

in that first day he did experience his first piano lesson and swim lesson in kiddy pool courtesy of Peyton Hoopengardner. and "kitty" experienced countless ploppings in the litter box. to unfortunate no effect.

"kitty." What would our new Miles guy be called? Like liberated, feel good mom thought, "it is her kitten." "She can name it." am not getting involved in any way. "Hannie, what is a good name for your kitty?"

"Simba," she announced. hmm. was afraid of that.

So then i proceeded to passive-aggressively nix "Simba, "

"Will," was her next definitive choice.

Free Willy made bizarre lasting impression on her -- have yet to figure that one out.

Felt needed to steer her somewhere. TV has lots of possibilties.

Not believing myself -- i thought of the Rugrats. "Chuckie?" i suggested. "He whines," she said. no, wouldn't want to name kitty after whiner. "Little Bear," she said -- that was it-- Little Bear.

Little Bear.

Could i live with Little Bear? guess not -- for i planted Hk in front of TV and said -- "let's find somebody. "

well, i heard -- "Him." "Let's name him after him." i looked up and object of little pointing finger was Tom of Tom and Jerry.

Well, yes he definitely was a cat. though always thought him human. remember mother said my 2 imaginary friends were "tom and jerry."

when very young james woke up with massive tangled mass in hair --- my explanation to mom was," Tom and Jerry had a party last night."

Guess, that was first of many parties in life i don't remember attending -- but it wasn't till that moment that i suddenly had realization.

"Tom?" as in "tom cat?" Now that is really clever. Can honestly admit i never noticed that little wacky name thing before. guess me, tom and the mouse were too busy partying. You learn something new everyday.



Tom was it then.

haven't made official trip to vet yet. really hope it is actually a "tom."

from my very novice inspection -- i feel jury is still out at this point.




Jingle, Simba now Tom. HK started crying saying her prayers tonight.

Little wee triangular Tom poking out between her arms. "i miss Simba," she sniffled. "But you have this cute kitty." i reminded her.

she said, "i love him.... but he's zero." " Simba was almost 2."

"Enjoy him Hannah, he's so cute... and he won't be a kitten for very long."

ok -- had one of those moments the Lord really poked me in the ribs -- for i was so tired, really going through the prefunctory motions on the prayer tonight. but the Lord spoke to me..."Hannie too, won't be little for very long."

just went in and covered those teensy sleeping legs. teensy Tom -- eyes open -- still snuggled at her side.

Good night babies. both still so small, so tiny ... but guess not for long.

Mstone 6.4.06 -- Spread Love Everywhere You Go.

ok -- john is somewhere in the middle east (most middle eastern part of Georgia).. that is

i am home alone needing to fend for self for dinner. tried a few things, but then just had to finish up with some Oreo ice cream.

Glad john is not here, because he will not have to suffer the incessant, complaining that i:
a. had the ice cream,
b. had too much of the ice cream, and
c. now hate myself for eating the ice cream.

why do i really bring it into the house? have no self discipline whatsoever -- at least some nights.

But needed "carrot" to get Joe and HK out of Coach Karen's pool, so i suggested that HK could pick out ice cream at the store.

This was such a no-brainer on my part. For sure that by the time we got to store -- exhaustion would have come crashing in on their tiny bodies. The shopping jaunt would be done, but horrendous. Rabid childern running up and down aisles of store, not minding harried solo mom, who still reeked of chlorine, sported wet hair and flattering massive raccoon indentations under eyes caused by goggle pressure.

Totally sure they would be hiding and dodging between every rack of cool Georgia Bulldog athletic wear, Mary kate and Ashley bohemian preteen garb and the for the most part benign -- but occasionally shocking display -- of Walmart's take on Frederick's of Hollywood lingerie.

Yes, knew they would misbehave, therefore would never have to even go down frost-bite alley. .

But -- i was out-witted, outsmarted. They behaved like little angels. Saw Shelby's mom and dad and they were perfect dolls. hmm.

so home we came with the ice cream. ok -- am partly to blame. HK who earned the right to select flavor -- going by picture on carton fixated on some lactose free vanilla product.

let's not get crazy. if we are going to have ice cream in fridge -- it might as well be worth the calorie consumption or temptation.

so put small 2 to bed. opened current MORE magazine for my monthly, "oh it's so great to be over 4o fix." and started enjoying my ice cream.

back in mind was that i really should start to try to formulate something to say re today's Milestone class -- taught most adeptly by Rick Wadsworth. but was enjoying ice cream, libation, over 40 empowerment, and Better than Ezra.

ok -- i love that (awawawawa,wahow) thing he does. "it was good....awwawawa, wahow. awhh, huuh....so good." (awwawawa) "good, good, good, good, good, good, good."

he says "it was good" a lot in that song. and that ice cream was so good.

i wanted more, knew i shouldn't but it was so good. and that is when the silly marriage analogy hit me.

i love ice cream. i mean good ice cream, not lactose free vanilla.

and as i was enjoying mindless spoonful after, mindless spoonful reading about how great Emily Lou Harris is and her new duets with Mark Knopfler -- i realized. hmmm. this ice cream really isn't tasting as great as it was with those first few wonderful, lustful spoonfuls.

the ultra-controlled (which i am most definitely not) take few bites -- or none at all and remain very distant from any and all true ice enjoyment. Very self controlled. hmm.

the self-satisfying ultra-selective food consumer would think, "that was great, but you know this really isn't having the same effect on me as those first few bites. i need to pitch this and look for something else..something salty this time that would recharge my taste buds.

or the more self--indulgent type (me) would say -- after finishing and enjoying a nice small portion -- i'm just not be satisfied without more. and after all john is not here.. so i had more and now am slightly sick. hate it when that happens!

now if i had just taken my time. not got preoccupied in all that MORE madness, and enjoyed each little allotted spoonful in time. i would have had my sweet fix, felt satisfied and in control and not -- overindulged and disillusioned -- once again shaking my head over my shortcomings.

Selfish preoccupation resulting in overconsumption usually results in my feeling yucky -- whether in issues of ice cream or ...................

Milestone Class 6.4.06

We are wrapping the marriage portion -- of our summer's journey to get to know ourselves better.

Rick Wadsworth took over the reigns from Terry Massey and was most excellent facilitator.

Class was opened with a review of the 5 love languages..

Words of Affirmation
Physical Touch
Quality Time
Gifts
Acts of Service

Rick got that old proverbial discussion ball rolling by giving a personal Wadsworth example. Washing dishes. Yes, here are Max, Curry, Jay and sure Rick just out of camera range -- all busily washing those dishes for most deserving mommy Leanne.

Trouble is -- though that was very nice, and am sure very appreciated -- acts of service was not Leanne's primary love speak.

After all those dishes were done and they got a moment to sit down and chat -- it turned out that -- Quality Time was what our gal really needed.

A realization which Rick then challenged the group with -- now that we know our own preferred way to be "stroked" -- what is our spouse's?

For over the long haul -- or in the Long Run as the Eagles sang (and made lots of money on) -- keeping our spouse emotionally happy is critical to a healthy marriage.

Ruth Bearden brought up point that we tend to communicate to our spouse in our language -- rather than theirs. Good point Ruth, but if anyone is guilty of that most probably is not you. but that is just guess.

Pete B. suggested to treat your spouse the way you would like to be treated.

think this was not reference to another love language misconnect -- but rather a reference to the Matt. 7:12.
"Therefore, whatever you want men to do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets."

Many gave examples of how they have found that their love language has changed. Dena Lewis commented on how each of their children -- and even though being very young -- have very differing ways they express love.

Ron Lewis shared how it is not about, "what i want -- all the time." that he has to turn down the TV and give Dena her Quality Time.

Rick mentioned how especially when we have children -- we need to make sure some of our emotional energy and attention is saved for our spouse.

Ron and Rick -- both empathized that it is hard work at times. Ruth -- "you have to keep at it."

That is where the Love Busters come in.

Selfish Demands: Attempts by your spouse to force you to do something for him/her, usually with implied threats of punishment if you refuse. (think about how often this occurs and what forms these demands take)

Disrespectful judgments: Attempts by your spouse to change your attitudes, beliefs and behaviors by trying to force you into his/her way of thinking.
1. lectures instead of respectful discussion.
2. feel opinion is superior to yours.
3. talks over you or prevents you from having a chance to explain your position, or
4. Ridicules your point of view. (how often/what forms)

Angry Outbursts: Deliberate attempts by your spouse to hurt you because of anger toward you. They are usually in form of verbal or physical attacks.

Dishonesty: Failure of spouse to reveal his/her thoughts, feelings, habits, likes, dislikes, personal history, daily activities and plans for the future. This is providing false information on these topics, and also leaving a false impression.

Annoying Habits: Behavior repeated by your spouse without much thought that it bothers you. These habits include personal mannerisms such as the way your spouse eats, cleans up after himself, and talks.

Independent Behavior: Behavior conceived and executed by your spouse without consideration of your feelings. These behaviors are usually scheduled and require thought to complete, such as attending sports events or engaging in a personal exercise program. ok -- have always been tad independent.


Yes, as Rick said at the end of class, sometimes it seems that it would be easier to breakup than to stay together. Marriage is work -- at times. and at other times -- it is really great.

like Ice Cream........

rather than being so controlled or so self-indulgent you can just sit and enjoy the bowl.

If you find yourself in the marriage crowd -- it could be like having the greatest bowl of ice cream in front of you.

Some of us are too controlled to interact with it. No way would risk too much pleasure or calorie consumption.

Some of us are too selfish to not just be happy with great ice cream taste -- wanting to sample other foods -- after the intial sugar rush is gone.

Some of us are too self-indulgent and want it all. Finish our bowl and just can't stop there. we need more.

When all we really need to do is stop being so selfish and enjoy each wonderful bite that God has placed before us. Eph 4:11-13

ok -- enough pop psychology from me.

Bob Dickson will turn our focus to interacting with our children next week.

Many thanks Rick....

Announcements:

Mstone treasurer Chanin Gill opened up the class discussion about our very ample monetary surplus.

Seems like there were lots of good suggestions:

Pete: something for Confirmation Class. Mary DeVane mentioned that whatever we decided to do, need to remember this most probably will become an expected offering for the confirmands. Lisa Wilson suggested something for the youth space that will be in new construction.

Chanin: we could purchase fans for those who are unable to do so -- to make this heat little more bearable.

Shelly: we will need to front money for cookbooks -- $2,500.

Mary D: Angel Food ministries.

Katie Anderson: the Latino ministry in Athens and the Honduras mission trip.

me: helping defray mission trip cost for those needing a little help.


Mgal tri-update -- Crystal River, FL

here's our very own Kat and Shelagh with Angela (i think..) before tri-race. all very relaxed and sporting eye of the tiger.

and afterwards in the glow of completing great athletic experience.

am so proud of all of you. how about all mgals shoot for a road trip next year!

need to fill at least 2 or 3 cars. always can use more athletes in team Mgal, official photogs, sunworhippers, or anyone else in need of an escape for whatever reason!

Cookbooks

ok -- just left Stephanie Dickson madly helping out at Beauty and Beast production. taking perfect program shots of the star. and she reminded me of Mstone cookbook preparations.

please get her those recipes by July 15. This is critical to meet Christmas sales -- which am sure will be bonanza!

thanks to Steph for all you and your committee has done.

Will try to end this note with wise words much sager than mine. Have these words taped up in kitchen and over sink in bathroom:

Spread love everywhere you go.
first of all, in your own house.

Give love to your children, to your wife or husband, to a next door neighbor.

Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier.

Be the living expression of God's kindness, kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile, kindness in your greeting. Mother Teresa.


God Bless. Good Week. Go forth and be kind..first of all in your own house.

ok -- i fail miserably at this countless times daily, but guess it is worth a shot. love to all. j.

Thanks Digger.

the number 27.

it really is my favorite number.

there are 27 books in the New Testament.

there are currently 27 amendments to the U.S. Constitution.

and 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 = 27. and graphically it just looks so cool.

the bottom hook of the 2 matches up so great with the top hook of the 7 -- yes, the perfect number truly.

but i really had to laugh this afternoon -- when i sat in my car coming back up 441 toward Mad -- remembering why after all this time 27 still is my favorite number. Yes, i was thinking back on a lot of things. A lot of things that i had forgotten. And it all started with Digger's baseball glove.

Was out at the Hoopengardener residence picking up wee ones. Sitting there marveling at how after spending entire day with a house full of kids both Digger and Michele seemed still in such good spirits.

Was kind of vegging... trying to marshall my children somewhat toward car.... when i heard Gerald say to HK, "this is my glove. i've had it since i was 9 years old."

ok -- am a total sap for anything sentimental, so snapped out of veggative state -- and started to listen. "it was the only gift i got for Christmas." -- (think year would have to be 1978) -- and he said, "it was the greatest thing in the whole world."

"i was going to play little league the next summer." "i slept with the thing."

ok -- Digger -- found this glove on on ebay. if something ever happens to your beloved one, this one sold for $35.17 plus $8.50 a few days ago.

Yes, am sentimental fool -- loved the little boy treasuring the glove thought. but this journey down baseball memory lane became a tad more personal when Gerald told Hannah K, "see it's signed by Ron Guidry."

Ron Guidry. hmmm.

and before i knew it my mouth opened up and the words came spilling out. "Ron Guidry. 1978 Cy Young Award winner." "New York Yankees."

"Louisiana Lightening. " Digger laughed. "Gator," i remembered, and we were off. He ran and got some book about the history of baseball gloves and we talked and talked. All these memories came rushing back in some very weird 1970's baseball time warp. As Michele sat there patiently somewhat smiling, somewhat shaking her head.

i guess she's heard this all before from Digger. but guess not from me. oh -- just so much i had forgotten.

I have been ragging Baseball lately. the sweet Morgan County games. Barry Bonds. I really don't know anything about the current Braves roster, other than John Smoltz is still pitching, we have a horrendous bull pen and there is some star whose last name begins in a F.

but that was far from true many years ago. i loved, loved baseball.

i loved ron guidry. he was awesome.

the 1977 - 1978 New York Yankees. catfish hunter, bucky dent, Graig nettles, thurman munson, chris chambliss, mickey rivers, willie randolph, lou pinella. so great.

won the AL championship series over the KC Royals (another great 70s team)
and the WS over the Los Angeles Dodgers. (another great team of the 70s -- steve garvey. tommy lasorda, great team that-- i never liked)

ok -- i never played baseball. didn't play softball either. "girls" just didn't back then in the dark ages. guess it was more about me and my dad. the oldest of 2 girls, dad and i got really, really tight with the sports stuff.

i loved it so much. remember thinking -- what could be better that sports broadcasting as career? getting paid to travel everywhere seeing great sports stuff. was the first degree i got at SMU and after law school did brief stint at CNN as intern in sports department. Maybe that's when all this love of sports thing started to change?

Yes, think it was the first time i fell in love. i had forgotten about all that till today. and as i am sitting here, think part of me is still that 12-year-old carrying a flame.


1975 World Series Game 6 at Fenway Park.
Boston Red Sox
Cincinnati Reds
Reds lead series 3-2.

bottom of 12th.

12:34 a.m. October 22, 1974.

pitch from Pat Darcy.

Ball meet wood of #27's bat, and it carried and carried...





And as Carlton Fisk for the BoSox leapt, leapt willing, willing that ball out of the park --

guess i was doomed.

and fated to forever lose a piece of my heart to the Boston Red Sox, Fenway Park, and number 27.

Funny thing was i had forgotten about all that till today and Digger's Ron Guidry Glove.




Fenway Park.

in my grand old sage wisdom at 15 -- i pronounced before i die have 2 wishes -- number one was that want to see a game at Fenway.

So for my 16th birthday Dad and i headed up to Boston in middle of July for a 3 game series with the Minnesota Twins that somewhat coincided with birthday.

the Twins trained in Orlando and dad always kind of pulled for them. am sure he never understood this weird Red Sox thing. But he was my great dad and off we went.

Remember going to the game. walking along one of those great old Boston streets in the "Fenway" neighborhood. it was so wonderfully New England -- i think another thing i just loved about it. So different from FL. So old, blue color and so irish.

we walked through some buildings -- i looked up and there it was. just boom. no big monolith. remember thinking it's so small. it's so old. it's so green.

We kind of cluelessly wandered underneath stadium and approached the entrance to our section. and as jaded i am with major league baseball today, i tell you thinking back on that moment... walking through that portal -- and there it was.

that Green Monster. the wall, the grass -- it was perfect. at least in my mind. Like it had been painted. Some amazing still-life of Americana.

Many things/moments in my life have not lived up to expectations. but as i type this almost 27 years later, i am shaking my head remembering how really special it was.

Carl Yaz, Rick Burleson, Jerry Remy, Jim Rice, Dwight Evans, Don Zimmer, Dennis Eckersley, Bob Stanley and of course.


the catcher Number 27. ok -- looking at this picture right now. am young teen again and thinking -- he really is too cute. Pleease......

Yes, in 1981 Carlton Fisk -- became a free agent, played and finished his career with the Chicago White Sox. and with that the spell he had over me was broken.

Mostly because, by that time i had actual boyfriends. real people i could sit in stands, watch play game and think were cute -- and could carry on conversation with. Honestly, it was partly that White Sox Uniform. and that new number -- 72.

Carlton Fisk and 72. yes, it was all wrong.

guess time was passing and i was growing up. Even though i don't feel same way toward baseball, i really just hope it is me that is different.

i hate the thought that Major League baseball drove me away like some love that so drastically changed over the years that you woke up one day and thought who is this person that i once was so madly in love with?

Yes, hope those Morgan County ball-diamond boys and girls look at the Majors the way i once did.

just notice the number of emails in my box at present is -- 27.

Shows God really does have a sense of humor -- or is closet Carlton Fisk fan. Read tonight that at last second Fisk replaced the White Sox cap in his Cooperstown Display with a Red Sox one.

ok -- just reading that made me fall in love with him all over again.

See really am sentimental sap .... and at least at this moment, kind of in love with baseball again.

thanks digger.