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25 years and still trying to get it right…

~ Paul Phillips ~ 1 Comment
Twenty-five years?  How is that possible?  Today marks exactly that many years since the Lovely Lady and I purchased the family business from her dad.  We had been married seven years by that time and had two very young children and a mortgage on a recently purchased house, but we jumped into the music business without thinking twice.  Well maybe twice, but not much more than that. I thought that this momentous day might be a good time to mention an interesting experience or two along the way. (And, knowing me, maybe a sermon point or two to be drawn from them.) 
We learned early that self-employment wasn’t going to be a bed of roses.  The first complete year was filled with pitfalls, including the first and only time I’ve been accused of being a crook by a customer.  I didn’t handle it well.  We also learned about the rights (or lack thereof) involved with leasing property.  Rain damaged music and instruments led to a showdown with the building’s owner.  Of course, the cure, a new roof installed during the rainiest time of the year, proved to be worse than the disease, with two inches of water coming into the building when a downpour arrived with the roof unfinished.
But we got past the first year or two in decent condition only to realize that the government also wanted to have its share of our take.  One April brought us to the week before the fifteenth to discover that we were $2500 short on the amount needed to satisfy our obligation to Uncle Sam.  Two things stand out about that week.  The first is a young boy, who lived in our house, coming downstairs after bedtime one night with fourteen dollars and a few cents in his hand.  He had opened his piggy bank and taken out every penny he possessed and was offering it to help.  Yep…I cried then and I still get choked up when I talk about it.  The same week, my dad reminded me that Jesus told His disciples to go fishing when they had taxes that needed to be paid.  In thinking what that meant, I decided since the disciples were fishermen by trade, that meant that I should just do my job.  What a shock!  At the end of the week, the entire amount was in the account to pay the taxes!  When we do what we’re supposed to do, God does His part!
August, 1997…After several years of grudgingly paying lease payments, we noticed an ideally situated building that was for sale.  Quick negotiations led to a contract, but we needed a couple months for remodeling before an October 31st deadline for moving.  As you might anticipate, a long delay in approval and closing gave us scarcely four weeks for the job.  With the help of many friends and a few really dedicated relatives (who worked until 2:00 a.m. many mornings), the job was completed for the move to our own building by the deadline.  Were we apprehensive about the move?  You bet!  We had obligated ourselves to almost double the monthly payments with no visible way to meet them, but our business grew an incredible amount immediately after the move and we’ve never even come close to missing a payment.  Oh, and we got a great house right next door in the deal, so presently, I have only to walk down the sidewalk to be at work any time day or night.  (And, I do mean any time day or night!)
So many stories, so little space…You’ll just have to keep coming back here for those, a little at a time.  There have been many great opportunities, and more than a few mistakes, but I’m anxious to get to the next 25 years.  Who knows what the future holds?  I love what I do.  Period.  There’s no “but” or “if only” to add to that.  It’s a blessing that not many men can count as theirs.  I’ve known many people who daily go grudgingly to their jobs, counting down the years, months, and days until retirement.   God has given me the perfect job, one that I still love after 25 years.  I only hope the customers can put up with me for a few more, while I figure out how to be a success at it.
Oh, and one more thing…I have prided myself in being a student of human nature, but I’ve been fooled more times than I would have thought possible over the years.  I’ve trusted people who were lying barefaced to me and have been suspicious of others who were more trustworthy than I myself have been.  I’ve discussed the concept here before that we can’t look on outward appearances, but I’ve been shamed more times than I care to admit by my naivete in doing just that.  The thing that has amazed me the most is that people are far more honest than we expect in this suspicious age in which we live.  On several occasions, customers have returned to tell me that I undercharged them or that they had inadvertently put a guitar pick in their pocket without paying.  I even had one man return after more than15 years to apologize for his deceit and make it right.  Yes, there have been plenty who were dishonest, but the good experiences far outweigh the bad.

Twenty five years is a long time to do one thing, but what a great ride!  Good days and bad ones, they’ve all gone into making some wonderful memories.  And, as great as it is to get to the silver anniversary, we’re thinking we might wait to really celebrate until the golden one. Hope you’re still around to celebrate with us!

“The highest reward that God gives us for good work is the ability to do better”
(Elbert Hubbard, American editor and writer, 1856-1915)

With Friends Like These…?

~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

“We’re raising grandparents at our house now,” came the almost-humorous statement from my good friend’s almost-smiling mouth.  The attempt at humor was not lost on the group, but we really didn’t laugh much.  It’s not a funny prospect when you’re all staring it in the face.  We’ve all got aging parents, some have adult-aged children who won’t grow up, and many of our peers are raising grandchildren when their time for parenting is long-past. 

“God knew what He was doing when He gave children to young people,”  was my Dad’s confusing (to me) statement when he was just over 50 years of age.  He was sitting on the back porch, reading “Bye Baby Bunting” for the fortieth time to his determined 2 year old granddaughter.  She was wearing him down and he wasn’t getting any help from the girl’s young dad, who recognized a much-needed respite from his responsibilities when he saw it.  I understand my father better now that I have four grandchildren of my own. 

My conversation today with another young father certainly gave me pause.  I talked about my enjoyment of the new social media for “reconnecting” with friends from my childhood and early adult years.  He argued adamantly that his interest was only in “real” friends, the ones who kept contact with him and gave him support each step of the way.  As we discussed our differences, I realized that I had been in his position 25 years ago too.  I remember how proud I was then of our close friendships, but I had no interest at all in childhood friendships which had gone by the wayside and certainly none in going to class reunions or other social events.

“You just wait.  Your day is coming and you’ll change your tune.”  I couldn’t believe the words were coming out of my mouth.  Why next thing you know, I’ll be saying things like “When I was your age…” and “We’ve never done it like that before.”  But from my vantage point, I can see the progression.  You go from the arrogant young know-it-all who,with a lovely young bride at your side, has everything necessary to make the planet yours (I hear Helen Reddy singing “…Sometimes it feels like you and me against the world…”), to needing a few close friends (not too many!), all the way to wishing you hadn’t lost contact with those people you met once on vacation.   But finally, I’ve come to what should have been an obvious conclusion years ago…I need people!  It only took me fifty-some years to figure this out, but at last I’m catching on. (The music fades into Frank Sinatra crooning, “People, people who need people…Are the luckiest people in the world.” It used to be Barbra Streisand, but she’s gone loony, so Frank will have to do.)

As I age, I realize that our lives seem to be sliced up into very definite seasons, some for which we’re well suited and some for which we’re seemingly not equipped at all.  The big problem is that I’m not sure I can handle being needed as a friend.  That’s the irksome thing about needing people.  You need them, they need you.  Dependency I can handle.  Responsibility, I’m not so very good at.  But I’m working on it.  Some of it is forced on me, some of it, I determine to take on.  It’s a work in progress.  I’ll let you know how I do.   No wait!  You’ll be the ones to know if I’m doing it right.  You tell me!

I’m just hoping that when my turn comes to be the grandparent being raised (if it hasn’t already come to that…), I will have been enough of an example to the next generation that they’re ready for what needs to be done.

From The Preacher in Ecclesiastes…“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!”

Just Don’t Rub ‘Em the Wrong Way

~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

There are parts of that job that I disliked intently.  But it wasn’t all bad.  The real electrician was a jokester, setting me, his helper, up for one practical joke after another (“Do you want to see an Aggie trailer?  Follow me”…and like the dummy I was…), including the ever popular “ZZZZZT!”, uttered loudly as I worked with a live circuit.  Funny how things stick in your memory for years…Today, I’ve been thinking about a time when we were trouble-shooting a problem with the lights at the local convenience store.  Their fluorescent fixtures wouldn’t come on immediately when they were turned on in the morning, leaving them in partial darkness for awhile.  Baffled, we made a call to the manufacturer and they gave us an unexpected procedure to remedy the problem; With a clean rag, wipe off the surface of the bulbs.  Sure enough, we showed up early one morning and started rubbing on the bulbs.  Swish, one bulb on…swish, another on…It was amazing!  We had thought that we’d have to replace bulbs or sockets, perhaps even the ballasts (it controls the current in the bulb), but needed nothing more than a simple swipe down the lamp’s length and the problem was fixed.

The best part of the incident was the interaction between a couple of the patrons sitting in the shop.  As the man and his buddy sipped their coffee and watched our progress across the store, this fellow, obviously a deep thinker, observed to his friend, “Would you look at that?  He just rubs that bulb with his magic rag and it lights up!”  And his pal, thinking he was quite a wit, replied,  “Yeah, I wonder if he’d let me take the rag home and use it on my wife…”  Everybody laughed loudly (including me) and we continued the job until all the lights were glowing brightly as God intended (well, you know what I mean). 

I spent a year and a half on that job over 25 years ago, mostly wishing that I was back in the music business, but that one incident still sticks in my head.  Not only was it funny, and I love a good (or bad) joke, but it has made me remember repeatedly that many of our problems have very simple solutions.  We anguish over multiple scenarios in our heads, sure that we’ll have to spend too much or work too hard, only to find that a simple answer is staring us in the face all along.  This idea is not new with me.  You’ve heard it in the “work smarter, not harder” slogan, the “min-max principle” (minimum effort, maximum performance), and other motivational cliche’s.  But, you know, there’s also a different connotation to the event.

You can also apply the two guys’ conversation to the subject to which it referred, relationships between people.  I’ve finally figured out (pretty late in life) that we all have a magic rag and have always had it.  I just don’t always ply it so well.  Want to see your spouse light up?  Try rubbing them with a compliment.  You don’t have to make it a big thing, just a “Your hair looks nice today” or a “You make the best Kraft Macaroni & Cheese!”.  Okay, maybe not that last one, but it works for me since mac & cheese is my comfort food and she knows that.  Want to see your kids brighten up?  Mention how well they do some small thing.  They may die of shock, since we seem to be a lot better at criticizing, but they’ll love the attention.

We men are usually jerks, thinking that complimenting others shows weakness and devalues us.  It doesn’t!  It’s not a “zero sum game”, where one person wins and the other loses.  Turns out, in any good relationship, when one person benefits, everyone in the relationship reaps the profit.  The saying “When mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy” is only a negative way of expressing this truth.  When she’s happy, the rest of the family has something to celebrate.  And, when the kids feel important, life gets a lot smoother for the parents and siblings.

One other thing:  Don’t make stuff up!  If the compliment isn’t real, you’re using sandpaper instead of the magic rag.  How dumb do you think they are?  Flattery isn’t positive, it’s destructive.  Be honest, but be kind! 

And with that, I’ve said enough.  Got to go home and see her light up once more today… 

“I like her because she smiles at me and means it.”  ~Anonymous

The Cat’s In the Cradle, Again…

~ Paul Phillips ~ 1 Comment

I watch her, the next to the youngest, walking on her knees and dragging the toes of her shoes over the sidewalk.  At first I think she’s hurt, maybe she’s fallen and she can’t get up (no, that’s a commercial for old people).  But as I watch, she keeps moving forward, smiling, ignoring her mama’s instructions to get up and walk.  Oh, yes…She can walk.  She just doesn’t want to at this exact moment.

Sensing that she may have a “moment” with her mom if she doesn’t comply, I go to her and reach down my hand.  She reaches up and clasps it, grinning.  If I think she’s going to walk, I’d better reconsider that.  The second she’s up, she drops all her weight on my arm, swinging forward to let her feet touch the ground momentarily, only to jump forward again in a wide arc and touch down a couple of feet ahead of where her shoes last made contact with the pavement.  This girl is not going to do things the way anyone expects.  She’s exploring, testing the limits, and figuring out all the angles.  She watches her older brothers like a hawk to be sure that they don’t do anything fun without her.  She imitates and perpetrates and just primarily pushes the envelope.

I watch her and I’m amazed at the change in the short course of two years.  She turns two tomorrow and already, she has much of the personality that she will have when she’s my age.  Not a baby and not yet able to completely express herself verbally, still she lets you know what she wants.  The word “No” figures in predominantly and even “Don’t wanna” frequently, but she’s not only negative.  She loves to play with the “baby”, but won’t be limited to girly stuff, showing her skill in a pretend sword fight with little wooden slats (really the roof pieces from the Lincoln Logs set).  She can’t stand to be away from her brothers, asking where each one of them is, even if she’s just turned away from them for a moment and they’re out of her sight.  But she will not be bullied, shoving her way onto the piano bench between the two of them, even though they deny her pleas for help getting up.  And so, she sits, happily pounding, with a brother on each side of her.  It’s not Mozart, by a long shot, but the music is sweet.  (This, of course, is quickly brought to a close by one brother choking the other to get the pounding stopped, but that’s a different tale.)

And being the old guy I am, I can’t help thinking back twenty-some years (we do that, you know) to when her mom was that age, learning, fussing, smiling (but not yet fighting with her brother).  I’ve changed too.  Back then I was a perfectionist, demanding instant obedience, determined that my child would not be that spoiled little girl who had her dad twisted around her little finger.  I think I failed miserably at that aspiration, but I was a disciplinarian.  Things are different now.  Candy is available and I love to share, much to the dismay of their parents (after all, when they’re adequately hyped up, we send them home).  I figure it’s my place as a grandfather to give them what they want, not to discipline them.  By and large, I’m fairly content to let the tumult swell and generally like to have a “limited government” type of mindset.  (There are exceptions, but the revelation of those, like the choking story, will wait for another day.)

If you ask me today, I’ll tell you that being a grandfather is the best, but as I consider it, when it was happening, being a father was fantastic.  My main lament now, besides the sergeant-major mentality, is that I was in such a big hurry to get to the next stage.  You know, walking, talking, potty-training, running, going to school, graduating, going to college, getting married, and before you know it, it’s past.  Just a blink of the eyes and gone…  Even now, we can’t slow it down, but we can be sure that we cherish the moments we’re allowed.  The little girl swinging from Grandpa’s hands, the three of them pounding on the piano (I know a good piano-tuner), and all the other amazing moments…they’re all gifts from God.

We’ve had bad luck with our kids – they’ve all grown up. –Christopher Morley (American writer/poet)

Children are an endowment from the Lord…–Psalm 123:3

How you gonna keep ’em down on the farm?

~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

Have you ever done this?  You begin something and then start questioning the wisdom of it.  You wonder if people really understand why (or if they care).  You think that maybe you should have waited until someone asked.  Well, that’s par for the course for me.  (I told you the elevator didn’t go all the way up to the top, the deck was not full, etc.)  Today’s post is just me, explaining myself.  I’m guessing that this will happen frequently, because it’s part of what I need to get out of my head…

I started putting down some random thoughts to form this blog a week or so ago and the concept was a little muddy around the edges, but I was very definite in my intent.  I have found myself spending more and more time recently in mindless pursuits, silly games on the internet, TV watching, and yes, even Facebook.  My objective in writing the blog was to follow through on a longtime goal of communicating what’s important to me, while freeing myself from the prison that all of us are in danger of lingering in; the mundane and pedestrian routine that binds us and keeps us from excellence in living and in expressing ourselves.

Let’s face it, Farmville and Cafe World, even World of Warcraft (never played it myself) don’t inspire us to higher expression.  Quite the opposite, they depress the individuality and uniqueness with which our Creator has endowed us.  You can’t tell me that you become a better person as you mindlessly plant fake plots of land with fake seeds with the click of a button, only to come back a day or two later to reap the fake crop with another click of a button.  Likewise, blasting into oblivion the avatars of unseen online opponents, who are plying a joystick halfway across the continent, has zero benefits, either in reality or even in the fertile ground of one’s mind.  Any accomplishment made today will disappear tomorrow, any emotional high brought on by a great victory will most certainly be followed by depression and the need to eclipse that victory with another, greater one to feel the high again.

And television!  I don’t really want to start down that road…unreal reality shows filled with fake personalities, modern day freak shows that voyeuristic adults (and kids) can’t turn away from, dramas filled with actions and language so vile that none of us would countenance any deed from them in our homes (yet we open the conduit and fill our living rooms with the garbage day after day).  No wonder our kids are leaving our lifestyles and principles in droves as they mature!  We don’t communicate with them except to give them the means to access this garbage, and we even sit and bathe in it ourselves with them night after night.  To say that we don’t communicate with them is a major misstatement.  We just don’t say words.  But, I guarantee you they get the message!  How can they help it?

Tired of the preaching yet?  Okay, I’m done for tonight.  It would be easy for me to take the words written above and think of them in terms of families with young children, or of young married couples, and talk about the need to make drastic changes. But it never made any difference when I was that age, so I’m pointing tonight to myself.  This blog is a small step for me along the path of recovery.  I’m going to learn to communicate again.  I’m guessing the results will be a little spotty, especially if the first week of posts is any indicator.  Some of my stuff you’ll love, some you’ll hate.  Probably most of it will be on neither extreme and you’ll just tolerate it, if you continue to read it at all.

Regardless, I’m going to continue to press on.  Hopefully you’ll be able to see who I am as you read.  I hope you’ll be generous enough to make comments (both encouragement and criticism).  Although I’ll try to spend time writing every day, you probably won’t see a new post that often.  I’m finding that even though I have lots of ideas that have been stuck in my brain that I want to communicate, many of them can’t be said right now without arousing anger or shock and I don’t want to do either.  So some things will stay unsaid until I find a better way to communicate them, half-baked ideas in the oven of knowledge and wisdom, waiting until they are fully cooked.  Give them time…

Finally, friends, whatever things are true, lovely, and well thought of…If there is any benefit, any excellence, these are the things to let your minds dwell on. (my paraphrase of Philippians 4:8)

The Other Side of Puzzles

~ Paul Phillips ~ 1 Comment

Her mom has washed windows at my store for years, but it was just a month ago that 3 year-old Addison started coming in to visit while she waits for the task to be done.  She’s too young to help much, so she sits at the little wooden kid’s table in the front of the store.  For the first ten minutes, she bangs on a drum we have there, alternating between that and fussing at her mom about having to wait so long.  The banging drum doesn’t bother me at all.  It’s the first step for most kids into music, so I love the sound.

What I can’t take for long is the whining at Mom, so I ask her if she wants to work a puzzle.  She seems to be excited and dumps the pieces onto the table, but that’s as far as she gets before she’s stymied.  The puzzle is only 20 or so large pieces, so I’m not sure what’s going on, but it’s not long before I realize that this girl doesn’t work puzzles.  To be absolutely honest, neither do I.

I know how to work puzzles.  I’ve worked puzzles in the past.  The thing is, I just don’t like them much.  Like all hoarders with OCD (self-diagnosed, you understand), I don’t comprehend the concept of working hard at building something piece by piece, only to tear it up and put the pieces away in a box.  Stuff is made to be seen, to be left out for years and to be admired.  “Well,” you may say.  “Glue the pieces together and mount the puzzle.”  That assumes that I would want something like that on my wall or coffee table.  Part of my problem with OCD is that I can’t put anything on the wall that isn’t an original work of art, so mounted puzzles are out.  Then again, I can’t have them stacked all over the tables, when there are more puzzles waiting to be put together, and I just don’t want to work that hard on something and tear it apart.  So I don’t work puzzles.

But the girl is whining.  I can’t stand whining and something has to be done.  So piece by piece, starting with the edges (a large percentage of the pieces in kids puzzles, you know), we put together the puzzle.  “Does that straight edge match with this one?”  “Do you see Winnie The Pooh’s shirt?”  “Try it under Winnie’s face.”  And as we work, Mom now having finished her job and waiting to get on to the next set of windows down the street somewhere, the picture comes together.  There’s Winnie and Piglet, and of course my favorite, Eeyore.  (My favorite because at times, I know just how he feels, the world going by him, with all the beautiful people entertaining and being entertained.  And, once in awhile, just once in awhile, they include him in their activities.  “Thanks for noticing me,” he says sarcastically.  I never can tell if it’s his choice to stay on the fringes or if they just don’t include him until they want to feel better about themselves, inviting him to join in for purely selfish reasons.  Regardless, it’s nice for everyone to be acknowledged once in awhile.)  But, back to Addison…As the picture comes together, her excitement grows.  She’s making a picture of her friends!  She’s doing it!  No more waiting and whining, no more being just a little girl who has to be tolerated.  She has done something worthwhile! For a few moments, she understands accomplishment and the reward of hard work.

Then Mom, check in one hand, squeegee and bucket in the other, calls out, “Addison, take apart the puzzle and put it away.”  The tot is devastated.  “No, Mom!  I want to leave it together.”  Now I’m no Dr. Spock, but just this once my brain is working.  I suggest that there’s no need to tear it apart.  We can leave it just like that for other people to enjoy.  I know it will be taken apart long before she returns, destroyed by the ravaging hordes of kids, long since hardened to the fate of such endeavors.  But today, this young lady gets to walk out the door with her pride intact, secure in the knowledge that she has left her mark on civilization as she knows it.  And even though she won’t say goodbye to me (“She hates to say goodbye,” her mom apologizes.  And, again I understand perfectly…Goodbyes can lead to never seeing someone again), I realize that finally, I’ve met a child with whom I’m in agreement.  Her, I understand!  I’ll never get these puzzle workers who toil at their task so industriously, not to get to the finished product and enjoy it, but to tear it up and start on another.  It’s as if the purpose is not to have a thing of beauty, but just to be busy.  Well, give me a comfortable chair, a glass of lemonade, and a beautiful painting on the wall and leave me to my leisure.  You do your busy work, I’m going to enjoy the finished product and won’t be disturbed.

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever” from Mary Poppins (Okay, really from a poem by John Keats, but I think he stole it from Mary).

“Suffer the little ones to come unto me and forbid them not, for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven” (Jesus in Mark 10:14)

Jumping to Conclusions Isn’t Exercise?

~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

The sign on the front door says, “Open at Noon on weekdays.”  You would not believe how that inspires the wise cracks.  Folks who would never think about telling the unemployed man who lies abed until noon daily how lazy he is, say the words to me without apology.  “I wish I could sleep until noon.”  “Banker’s Hours?  We have to work for a living!”  “When are you going to get a real job?”

“Banker’s hours? Real job?”  How is this possible?  Can they not see how hard I work?  Do I not complain about overwork loudly enough?  But no…they believe if the door is locked, I’m not working. They think I’m sitting at home with my toe in the air, doing nothing.  What’s that, you say?  Oh, the toe in the air thing.  It’s a family joke, but it fits the situation, so I’ll let you in on it.

A few years ago, my brother-in-law was adding on to his house.  Family members helped him some, but he did the lion’s share of the work.  Until one painful day, that is…the day he shot a nail from the nail-gun into the joint of his big toe.  The pain was excruciating and he couldn’t walk for a few days.  Work would have ground to a halt, but his father-in-law offered to help if he would tell him what to do.  So the brother-in-law sat with his foot elevated to ease the pain and gave instructions to the willing worker.  Unfortunately, one of his father-in-law’s cronies happened past about this time and, seeing the home-owner sitting while his father-in-law worked, went home with the story.  “That lazy so-and-so…He’s just sitting there with his toe in the air while his father-in-law builds his house for him.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions.”  
“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”  
“Still waters run deep.”   

We all do it…Think that we understand a situation simply because we take a glance as we drive by…Believe that because we can’t see activity, nothing is being accomplished.  How do we get to the point where we assume that the person we’re talking to is not as hard-working, not as intelligent, not as knowledgeable about their area of expertise as they should be?  What drives us to accuse someone of laziness simply because we don’t see what they accomplish when we’re not there?

So, learn the facts and cut those you find yourself critical of some slack.  I’m not saying that we shouldn’t require excellence, nor even that we should lower the bar for performance.  Just do your homework before showing your ignorance.  And cut me some slack about opening at noon.  I’ll be sitting here with my toe in the air waiting for you…

What do you call it if you jump out of an airplane without a parachute?  
Jumping to a concussion!

Sometimes a conclusion is simply the point at which we stop thinking…

The Special for Tonight Is…

~ Paul Phillips ~ 2 Comments

I’m hungry! 

As I write this, it’s after midnight and I can’t figure out why I’m even thinking about food.  I had a little snack at 11:30 and drank a glass of fruit juice.  So why should I want to eat anything else?  Well, the problem is that I’m going for a blood test in the morning and it’s one of the “fasting” kinds (can’t figure out that word…Usually, the time just drags when I’m not eating. It’s not fast at all…).  So no food until after they stick the needle in my arm sometime after 7:00 AM.  I always think that a Honey Bun would be smart before that, just to keep me from getting queasy while watching…

What I want to know is, what is it about being told not to do something that makes me want to do it desperately?  Most nights, I can go from that little snack before midnight until 11:30 or later the next morning without craving a bite. But tonight, I just really need a little something right now!

I’m gonna blame this one on Eve…I know, not very gallant (nor even doctrinally sound), but she’s the bad example I point to when I need to rationalize my shortcomings in the area of forbidden food.  God:  “Of all the trees in the Garden, you may eat, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, you may not eat.”  Eve:  “Adam, I want that fruit. Pick me one, will you please?  Pretty Please?”  So I’m in good company, when I say, “I’m hungry!” 

The blood test?  Oh, just my semi-annual sacrifice of blood so that my doctor, who I love, can have an excuse to castigate (I know, that even sounds medical, doesn’t it) me for my lack of exercise and self-control in dietary intake.  Well actually, I like what my oh-so-fit, run-til-it-hurts, don’t-be-a-crybaby sister-in-law said to me once.  “Paul, you don’t need to eat less (that’s the part I like!), you just need to exercise more (not so much that part…).  But the good doc, to his credit, keeps believing me when I say, “I’ll do better this time, I promise!  Yes, I understand what I need to do.  No, I do not need to take those pills!”

And now the Day-of-Reckoning has once more arrived and I’ve not walked, biked, or jogged more than three times in the last two months.  The trips to La Juerta (I love the guacamole) and La Capilla (ditto), to say nothing of Fratelli’s (Chicken Florentine is to die for, of course, not literally), have been pretty frequent lately too, so the conclusion is the ever present foregone one;  The cholesterol will be high, the triglycerides even higher. However, I’m pretty sure that the sodium levels will be within the acceptable limits.  Do you suppose that will placate him?  Will he even compliment me about my self control in not adding salt to my food?  Nooo!…He’ll just have to focus on that cholesterol number being higher than the number of candles on Uncle Sam’s birthday cake last July 4th.  And after he’s scolded me for awhile, I’ll tell him that I’ll do better next time and I understand what I need to do.  Oh!  And I don’t need those pills!  Did I tell you that I love my doctor?

So, like the night before any big exam, I’m not sleeping, but I’m not cramming either (food, that is).  At this point, a walk through town seems unproductive (it’s raining anyway), so here I sit, craving food that I can’t have.  Anybody have a Twinkie?

Why am I hungry again?

On The Way…

~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

Well, I’ve finally done it!  You know…Taken leave of my…Well, it’s been a long time coming, but the day has come when it will be proven to the world that this guy’s not playing with a full deck…his elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top…he’s not the brightest crayon in the box…not even the sharpest knife in the set. 

I have things to say and finally have set up a soapbox on which to stand, a pulpit from which to preach, if you will.  I’m guessing that what I have to say will be of interest to very few people, but maybe the process of getting it written down will relieve the pressure in my brain.  I’ve maintained for the last few years that the mass of trivia with which the cranium was filled in earlier years is impeding the input of new information (at least that’s my excuse for forgetting names and appointments, along with various other semi-important information).  Perhaps the cathartic exercise of blogging will act as a relief valve and finally allow the retrieval of new information. 

If your expectation is to read an entertaining blog on a regular basis, good luck!  The ramblings of an old nut hardly fit that description, but there may be a statement of interest to read now and again.  Even a blind man with a rifle hits the target sometimes (it’s just the shots in between that keep you on edge).

I won’t waste your time telling you who I am.  If the writing proceeds as it should, you’ll figure that out as we go along.  For now, I’ll just say that I’m a fifty-something man, who sometimes is surprised at how fast he’s arrived at this time of life and wonders what has been accomplished.  Other times, I have lucid moments when I see the progression and am amazed at how full my life has been.  That seems to be the conundrum we all live with; the satisfaction, along with the longings for what might have been.  Overlying the confusion is the sure affirmation that God is in control, which is a real solace, considering the ineptitude I  frequently show in situations where maturity and skill are required.

In case you haven’t also noticed, I’m fairly long-winded, which fits rather nicely with the loopy part of me.  Maybe an editor will have to be found, but for now, skim the lines and glean anything worth keeping.  I’ll write of many things, about most of which I know very little.  You’ll be amazed at the acuity I show in demonstrating my ignorance!

Keep the straight-jacket handy!