So, I never shared how last Thursday's hiking and waypoint setting adventure went with Sam.
After work I picked up Sam and we headed for Seidman Park. It was raining. Nothing that would prevent us from going. But, as we got closer, it started raining hard. I told Sam we should just go for pizza, and try it again Saturday. He cried and cried, saying, "I want to go hiking with you." How can you say no to that. I told him that we would keep going, and see if it blew over.
When we go there it had pretty much stopped raining. The sky was pretty dark to the west, though. We got our packs loaded. Sam's back was already set with a very diluted solution of Gu2O. I sat Sam in the back of the truck while I threw my wallet, phone, camera, and keys in my hydration pack, and got the maps, map case, and GPS together. I had already locked the truck, though the tailgate was still up. Then, it thundered. Then it thundered and lightninged real close together. The storm was upon us. I told Sam that we couldn't stay. That it was too dangerous. He started crying. Somewhere he went from, "I want to go hiking" to "I don't want to die." I grabbed my wallet, phone, GPS, and Sam and shut the tailgate. I realized, too late, that my keys were still inside my hydration pack, which was still inside of the locked truck.
I double checked and sure enough, all of the doors were locked. Double drats!
We ran as fast as we could into the deep woods. Why be a lightning rod? I called Jean from my cell phone. This did increase my chances of becoming a lightning rod. Sam was crying and screaming, "I don't want to die!!!!!!!" I assured him we weren't going to die. We were in the woods in the "lightning-safe position" (crouced down with our weight on the balls of our feet). Jean answered on the other end and I said, "I hope this wasn't one of those times you left your keys in the truck." Sometimes she does that so she knows were they are. Fortunately, this wasn't one of those times. But, being a one vehicle family, we needed to find someone available to come to our house and get Jean's keys, then drive them out to me and Sam.
Some of our friends were at rehearsal and weren't by a phone. One K & K weren't home. The other friends who are also initialed K & K live in Middleville. That would be a long wait. M & A were on their way back from airport in Detroit. Jean reached them on their cell and they were only 20 minutes from our place on their way home and would be glad to help. SWEET!
By this time, the storm was over. We did the red loop of Seidman Park and plotted some waypoints. M & A arrived to save the day and we had a great talk. When they left, Sam and I decided to map the blue loop, too.
We found this HUGE turtle. We got to make him go into his shelf and have a great look at how he works. His head was a brilliant yellow and orange, as was some of his shell. Sam loved checking him out. We also saw about a dozen or so deer out there.
By the end I was carrying Sam on my shoulders. He was a tired little man.
We then went for some pizza, and brought some home for Jean as well. It was a good night. What started out as a misadventure ended as an awesome evening spent with my son.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Dust Art
I received this from a colleague at work...
When the dust gets thick on the back window of his Mini Cooper, Scott Wade uses it as a canvas to create temporary works of art. Among his creations was a copy of C.M. Coolidge's 'A Friend in Need,' better known as dogs playing poker.
Wade used his finger and other implements to etch this homage to Vincent Van Gogh's 'Starry Night' and Leonardo da Vinci's 'Mona Lisa.'
Wade lives off the unpaved Roadrunner Road north of San Marcos, which dusts the back windows of his car and gives him the canvases to create his own works of art.
A portrait of Kinky Friedman on the back of the Mazda driven by Wade's wife, Robin Wood, was
featured on the gubernatorial candidate's Web site.
A collage of wildlife decorates the
Mini Cooper's window.
Wade's creations attract admirers wherever he goes.
Who needs a frost-covered window when you've got road dust to create a Christmas scene?
A gimme-capped John Kelso
was the subject of one window portrait.
Besides his finger, Wade uses traditional art tools, such as paintbrushes, and unconventional ones, like a chewed Popsicle stick, to make his drawings.
Wade takes pride in his creations, but he knows that with one good shower, his work will just wash away.
When the dust gets thick on the back window of his Mini Cooper, Scott Wade uses it as a canvas to create temporary works of art. Among his creations was a copy of C.M. Coolidge's 'A Friend in Need,' better known as dogs playing poker.
Wade used his finger and other implements to etch this homage to Vincent Van Gogh's 'Starry Night' and Leonardo da Vinci's 'Mona Lisa.'
Wade lives off the unpaved Roadrunner Road north of San Marcos, which dusts the back windows of his car and gives him the canvases to create his own works of art.
A portrait of Kinky Friedman on the back of the Mazda driven by Wade's wife, Robin Wood, was
featured on the gubernatorial candidate's Web site.A collage of wildlife decorates the
Mini Cooper's window.Wade's creations attract admirers wherever he goes.
Who needs a frost-covered window when you've got road dust to create a Christmas scene?A gimme-capped John Kelso
was the subject of one window portrait.
Besides his finger, Wade uses traditional art tools, such as paintbrushes, and unconventional ones, like a chewed Popsicle stick, to make his drawings.
Wade takes pride in his creations, but he knows that with one good shower, his work will just wash away.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Please Mr. President, Don't Get Suckered Into a Debate
In this article, the Iranian President, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, challenged George W. Bush to a televised debate on world issues. Though I think the Iranian President isn't playing with a full nuclear reactor between the ears, my fear is George W. would lose the debate simply because he doesn't speak good. Don't get suckered into a debate Mr. President.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Crazy Gear Friday
A Way Too Big Knife
A friend of mine sent me this article from OutdoorLife.com. It frightens me that the article says to even throw away your toiletries. Yikes!
The Most Incredible Knife: Wenger wants you to do one thing: throw out your old knives. Actually, it wants you to do several things: throw out your bike tools, your toiletries, your laser pointer and so on, because you can find all of these instruments in a huge Swiss Army knife, which includes every tool the company makes. Wenger is calling the contraption “Giant Knife Version 1.0.” It debuted with all 85 features and can perform hundreds of functions.
Another friend told me about making a camping stove from pop cans. There are a lot of directions. It is best just to link to the article.
A friend of mine sent me this article from OutdoorLife.com. It frightens me that the article says to even throw away your toiletries. Yikes!
The Most Incredible Knife: Wenger wants you to do one thing: throw out your old knives. Actually, it wants you to do several things: throw out your bike tools, your toiletries, your laser pointer and so on, because you can find all of these instruments in a huge Swiss Army knife, which includes every tool the company makes. Wenger is calling the contraption “Giant Knife Version 1.0.” It debuted with all 85 features and can perform hundreds of functions.
Who doesn’t need a cigar cutter next to a bicycle chain rivet setter next to a golf divot repair tool? Wenger is on to something with this everyman’s gadget. It wouldn’t be a knife, though, without a blade, so Wenger put seven in the line-up. And it wouldn’t be Swiss Army unless it came with tweezers and a toothpick. (They’re included, too.)
A Light Stove Made From Pop Cans
Another friend told me about making a camping stove from pop cans. There are a lot of directions. It is best just to link to the article.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
"Dad, I'm Better Than You"
A few weeks ago, my 
son invited me to play "air bass" with him. Not "air guitar" mind you, "air bass." Now keep in mind that I play bass. I play upright bass (bass violin if you use a bow), as well as bass guitar. There are lots of guys that I know personally who play better than I do. Most people I know play better than I do. But, that's okay. I hold my own. I do nothing fancy. I consider myself to be parr with Michael Anthony, except I can't sing backup, I don't own a Jack Daniels bass, and I don't tour much. I can keep the low frequency rythm going though. And, I guess that is all that counts.So, I get invited to play air bass with my son Sam. He is in the middle of totally rocking out. His bass is slung low. He's got a good stance. Feet spread apart. He looks at me and says, "Dad, I am better than you." What the heck?? He's five for crying outloud. Just because he his bass is slung low and he has a sweet stance makes him better than me?? Well, maybe that all it takes.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
The Cartographer's New Tool
There is as new tool in my gear pack. Yesterday I picked up my first GPS. I've never used one until yesterday, let alone own one. I bought a Garmin eTrex Legend. There is a bit of a learning curve, especially since I have only worked from a map and compass before. And, because I am not too patient at reading directions. I fiddle around with it, discover a question, then find the answer in the owner's manual. Learning by trial and error at its finest. I think I am over the hump know and am ready to take it into the woods and do elaborate plotting with it.I am leading an orienteering group in the fall and will be using the GPS to mark the trails and set control markers in the woodlands. FUN! Tomorrow night after work Sam is going to hike Seidman Park with me to set waypoints for where the control markers will go. SWEET!
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Pass the Buck
Last week we went out for dinner and ice cream with some friends and their daughters. On the drive home, I am ashamed to say, the John Tesh Radio Show was on. But, only because the station that is normally on in the truck was off the air for some reason.Mr. Tesh likes to give out facts. Some times they are dorky. But, the one he gave out this particular night was not quite as dorky on the dorky scale as most others. It was about the origins of the phrase Pass the Buck. I Googled it just to double check Mr. Tesh's facts. He was right. Here is what I confirmed.
Meaning
Pass responsibility on to someone else.
Origin
Look up buck in the dictionary and you'll find a couple of dozen assorted nouns, verbs and adjectives. The most common use of the word these days is as the slang term for the American dollar. That's not the buck meant here though. Look a little further down the list and you'll find 'buck - an article used in a game of poker', and that's the buck that's passed.
Poker became very popular in America during the second half of the 19th century. Players were highly suspicious of cheating or any form of bias and there's considerable folklore depicting gunslingers in shoot-outs based on accusations of dirty dealing. In order to avoid unfairness the deal changed hands during sessions. The person who was next in line to deal would be given a marker. This was often a knife, and knives often had handles made of buck's horn - hence the marker becoming known as a buck. When the dealer's turn was done he 'passed the buck'.
Silver dollars were later used as markers and this is probably the origin of the use of buck as a slang term for dollar.
The earliest citation of the phrase in print is from the Weekly New Mexican, July 1865:
"They draw at the commissary, and at poker after they have passed the buck.".
This is clearly around the time that the phrase was coined as there are many such references in the following years.
You can link to the story here.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Between Two Names
From Chapter 2 of Dan Allender's book, To Be Told
"The Bible tells us that those who seek God will one day be given a new name: 'Everyone who is victorious will eat of the manna that has been hidden away in heaven. And I will give to each one a white stone, and on the stone will be engraved a new name that no one knows except the one who receives it.'"
"The word mores, the Latin word that means 'convention,' is where we get our word morality. We settle for the morality of our community in order to fit in, to not be too different, odd, or undesirable. And in that placid counterfeit of true life, we find respite from the questions that seek us out when we stare into the sky. In the norms of our world, we find a name that seems to fit us, but we intuitively know that the name our church, family, friends, and business associates speak to us is not the truest name that will be spoken. Or so we hope."
"So our life is a journey to discover our true name, though, sadly, many of us never choose to begin the search."
"The Bible tells us that those who seek God will one day be given a new name: 'Everyone who is victorious will eat of the manna that has been hidden away in heaven. And I will give to each one a white stone, and on the stone will be engraved a new name that no one knows except the one who receives it.'"
"The word mores, the Latin word that means 'convention,' is where we get our word morality. We settle for the morality of our community in order to fit in, to not be too different, odd, or undesirable. And in that placid counterfeit of true life, we find respite from the questions that seek us out when we stare into the sky. In the norms of our world, we find a name that seems to fit us, but we intuitively know that the name our church, family, friends, and business associates speak to us is not the truest name that will be spoken. Or so we hope."
"So our life is a journey to discover our true name, though, sadly, many of us never choose to begin the search."
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Of Blue Flames and Foul Odors
I was able to get both stoves working last night. The blue flames were beautiful. 
I did lots of experiments switching between priming pumps just to make sure my friend wouldn't have any problems on his upcoming trip. He should be good to go.
I have two MSR Whisper Lite stoves. They were purchased at the same time and are identical. One of their features is that you need to fill the bottom cup of the stove with fuel and do a pre-burn. In one of the experiments I got one stove going, but failed to turn the gas on for the other stove in time – so the pre-burn was in vain. I let it cool for a couple of minutes. If you don't let it cool the stove is too hot and the fuel vaporizes. I didn't let it cool long enough, and the fuel vaporized. But, like an IDIOT I didn't close the fuel valve. After about 30 seconds the flame from one stove jumped across to the non-lit to ignite the vapors. I thought to myself, "Self, I think your leg is on fire." I ran up the stairs of the porch. Legs went out. I did have the frame of mind to close the fuel nob to off.
Fortunately for me, Jean wasn't home. And, fortunately the kids were in bed by this point of the experiment. I did go in and ask Sam to smell my leg.
This morning I sort of forgot about the incident, though my leg feels like it has been sunburned. Most of the morning I kept thinking our drains were emitting some foul odor. Then, I realized I was the foul odor. I smell like a perm gone bad.
I did lots of experiments switching between priming pumps just to make sure my friend wouldn't have any problems on his upcoming trip. He should be good to go.I have two MSR Whisper Lite stoves. They were purchased at the same time and are identical. One of their features is that you need to fill the bottom cup of the stove with fuel and do a pre-burn. In one of the experiments I got one stove going, but failed to turn the gas on for the other stove in time – so the pre-burn was in vain. I let it cool for a couple of minutes. If you don't let it cool the stove is too hot and the fuel vaporizes. I didn't let it cool long enough, and the fuel vaporized. But, like an IDIOT I didn't close the fuel valve. After about 30 seconds the flame from one stove jumped across to the non-lit to ignite the vapors. I thought to myself, "Self, I think your leg is on fire." I ran up the stairs of the porch. Legs went out. I did have the frame of mind to close the fuel nob to off.
Fortunately for me, Jean wasn't home. And, fortunately the kids were in bed by this point of the experiment. I did go in and ask Sam to smell my leg.This morning I sort of forgot about the incident, though my leg feels like it has been sunburned. Most of the morning I kept thinking our drains were emitting some foul odor. Then, I realized I was the foul odor. I smell like a perm gone bad.
Monday, August 14, 2006
No Wonder the Bandits Wear Masks
Friday I had a half of day off of work 
so that the four of us could head to Nordhouse Sand Dunes for a little backpacking, overnight camping, and swimming in Lake Michigan.We hit the road about 3:30 Friday afternoon, and hit the trail about 6. It was Alina's first backpacking trip, th
ough she had spent a few nights in a tent before. She did 
great. She got a bit tired near the end, 
and I carried her on my shoulders. Sam is a trooper. A backpacking phenom. He never tires. He loves the outdoors.We got to our site about 7:15, after a few potty breaks along the way. We got camp set up, and attemp
ted starting dinner. One of my stoves wouldn't deliver fuel. No worries, I brought two stoves.We ate mac and cheese on the beach at sunset. Nothing says romance to me like sitting on a
beach at sunset with my beautiful wife and our kids while eating mac and cheese. Alina wasn't quite used to eating on the beach, and what that brings with it. Sand. Sand in everything. We enjoyed desert on the beach, and the kids went back to running through the waves.
It was time to get the kids to bed and to get cleaned up and put away so that Jean and I could turn in. Sam helped me hang the bear rope, then he got ready for bed. Sam slept in the guys' tent, Alina slept in the ladies' tent. Jean and I washed dishes and got nearly everything put away. I went and got Sam out of the tent so he could see the big dipper. He said that he could see what I was
pointing at and understood the big dipper. I hope so, it was beautiful. The entire sky was breathtaking. Not a cloud. Millions and millions of stars. The food was hung in a tree with care. Except for two packets of Gu, and a small bag of chips for snacks on the way in. We stuck them inside of the mess kits and put the mess kits in our packs that we hung on the notches of some trees.By the time we got everything cleaned up
and turned in, Sam was OUT. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ... I started getting my sleeping area prepared, then started getting stomach cramps. I thought I had to go to the bathroom, but couldn't. I went back into the tent. The cramps came on hard, again. I went to my pack and grabbed the toilet paper and tried again. Some results. Great. Hmmmmm... wait... what I grabbed wasn't toilet paper. It was the matches. So, I went back to my pack for the toilet paper. I realized I still needed to go. Good. Wait, bad. What started as needing to go 
ended up not wanting to stop. Finally, it stopped. And, my stomach felt much better.I woke up Saturday and it was pretty cool out. Low 50ยบ's. The morning sky was colorful. I snapped a few pictures, then went over to get the food bag. See, the plan was to get both stoves
firing properly, cook breakfast, and then enjoy the water. The food back looked much different than it did the night before. There was garbage all over the ground, and the bag was soaked. Racoon saliva I assumed. The inside of the food back was covered with hot cocoa mix.I took the bag, and garbage, back to camp. I informed Jean that we had visitors in the night. She exclaimed, "Oh no!" and came out of the tent. I proceeded to show her that every
morcel of food was openned. I looked at Jean and said, "Checkmate."I told her the best plan would be to get everything packed up and hike out now. Before the kids got hungry and they don't have the energy to walk. Agreed. Sam was SO sad. He wanted to stay and swim. I told him that I did, too. It was so cool watching Sam and Alina enjoy our surroundings Friday night. I was looking forward to watching them enjoy it more on Saturday.
We got as much packed up as possible to send Sam, Alina, and Jean out. I stayed behind and finished packing up. They probably started 20-30 minutes before I did. I left our site around 9, and caught up to them in about 15 minutes. The thing that clinched it for me that this was a God thing was that every campsite I passed on the way out had their food bags hanging about 4' off the ground. Mine was 8'. What the heck.When I caught up
to the family, Sam was doing great, Alina was tired and moving slowly. I carried her on my shoulders for much of the way. Sam's attitude was great and made conversationt he whole way out.We ended up at this little restaurant in Luddington called the Kountry Kitchent. Wonderful wonderful food. We were back home and napping Saturday by 1:30. Whenever one woke up we headed over to Millenium Park to the splash park and beach area. The water was warm. Like bathwater. Nice.
Probably better than the 56ยบ Lake Michigan water temp. Then, Papa John pizza.I was bummed walking out. It was probably our last weekend that we would have to both camp and swim. A friend of mine is borrowing some gear tomorrow night for a trip he is taking with his daughter in a couple of weekends. We may have one good weekend after Labor Day. I hope so.
But, this weekend wasn't about me being able
to enjoy a relaxing weekend with Jean and Sam and Alina in a setting that we all love. It was about God and God wanting to shape my attitude in the events that I wouldn't choose for myself. The desert is fertile to grow a better attitude.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Checkmate
From chapter six of John Eldredge's book, The Journey of Desire.
"It started five years ago with my annual fishing trip. Those of you unfamiliar with fly-fishing must rid your minds of the images of that other kind – guys in their lawn chairs down at the city pond, chugging cheap beer while they attempt to fool fish with flourescent pink, garlic-flavored cheese balls beneath an enormous bobber. You wonder if they haven't met their match. To compare that with a day on a high mountain stream pursuing wild trout through the elegance and serenity of fly-fishing is like comparing the mini mart at your gas station to Nordstrom's or professional wrestling to gymnastics, or the Simpsons to Shakespeare. Enough said.
This yearly pilgrimage has always been for me a time of consumate pleasure, a banquet of beauty with deep friendship and adventure. Then it all began to unravel. I had scheduled a few days on the Frying Pan River in Colorado in late May the fishing there is legendary, and recent reports had been phnomenal. But as a friend and I drove up to the river, it began to rain. Not to worry, I thought. Late spring often brings rain. It'll blow over in an hour or two. As we climbed into the mountains, the rain turned into a snowstorm that lasted the entire trip.
I began to play chess with God. The following year, I planned our trip for July to elimate all possibility of snow. I booked several days at a private ranch that caters to fly fisherman, with a guide to take us out on the upper Rio Grande. The night before we were to leave, I received a call telling me that no, it had not snowed, but thunderstorms had created mud slides and the fishing was impossible. They offered to refund my money.
I sensed that God had made a countermove, and that my king was in danger. Grabbing my phone book, I found the number of another guide on a different river and called him. Yes, the fishing was fabulous. Yes, he could take us out tomorrow. I hung up the phone with a smile. Your move, God. When we arrived early the next morning, the fellow said sadly, "It's the strangest thing, but they opened the dam last night and the river's flooded. Sorry 'bout that."
The next year it was a drought; the year after that we still don't know what happened. High in the meadows of the Eastern Sierra, the fish had seemed to simply vanish from the San Joaguin. I was losing the game, as you can tell. But I hadn't been cornered; not yet.
Last year I was invited to speak at a conference near Bend, Oregon. It is a place very dear to me, full of memories from my childhood. The Deschutes River flows through there, and I was looking forward (can you believe my tenacity?) to some great time on the water with my new fly rod. (Country musicians usa a fiddle, but to play Mozart you need a violin. Bait fisherman use poles, while fly fisherman use rods.) I made what I felt would be my winning move. A friend arranged access for me to a private stretch of the Deshutes, a ranch visited each year by only a handful of people. The caretaker was an old master fly fisherman. When the owner of the shop in town learned where I was headed, he looked around furtively, leaned across the counter, and whispered, "Mister, that may be the best one hundred yards of fishing in the United States." Something smiled in my heart and said, Check.
Old Bill was a marvelous fisherman, and as we walked down to the water, he realized, "I'm thinkin'... let's see... you're the first guy to fish this since last October." Six months ago, I thought. This is going to be incredible. You know what's coming next. Nothing. We caught nothing. BIll had a funny look on his face. "John," he said, "people come from all over the world to fish this ranch. I've never had a day like this... ever." Feeling for all the world like Jonah, I said, "Bill, this is not about you. The fishing will be great tomorrow after I've gone." Checkmate.
"It started five years ago with my annual fishing trip. Those of you unfamiliar with fly-fishing must rid your minds of the images of that other kind – guys in their lawn chairs down at the city pond, chugging cheap beer while they attempt to fool fish with flourescent pink, garlic-flavored cheese balls beneath an enormous bobber. You wonder if they haven't met their match. To compare that with a day on a high mountain stream pursuing wild trout through the elegance and serenity of fly-fishing is like comparing the mini mart at your gas station to Nordstrom's or professional wrestling to gymnastics, or the Simpsons to Shakespeare. Enough said.
This yearly pilgrimage has always been for me a time of consumate pleasure, a banquet of beauty with deep friendship and adventure. Then it all began to unravel. I had scheduled a few days on the Frying Pan River in Colorado in late May the fishing there is legendary, and recent reports had been phnomenal. But as a friend and I drove up to the river, it began to rain. Not to worry, I thought. Late spring often brings rain. It'll blow over in an hour or two. As we climbed into the mountains, the rain turned into a snowstorm that lasted the entire trip.
I began to play chess with God. The following year, I planned our trip for July to elimate all possibility of snow. I booked several days at a private ranch that caters to fly fisherman, with a guide to take us out on the upper Rio Grande. The night before we were to leave, I received a call telling me that no, it had not snowed, but thunderstorms had created mud slides and the fishing was impossible. They offered to refund my money.
I sensed that God had made a countermove, and that my king was in danger. Grabbing my phone book, I found the number of another guide on a different river and called him. Yes, the fishing was fabulous. Yes, he could take us out tomorrow. I hung up the phone with a smile. Your move, God. When we arrived early the next morning, the fellow said sadly, "It's the strangest thing, but they opened the dam last night and the river's flooded. Sorry 'bout that."
The next year it was a drought; the year after that we still don't know what happened. High in the meadows of the Eastern Sierra, the fish had seemed to simply vanish from the San Joaguin. I was losing the game, as you can tell. But I hadn't been cornered; not yet.
Last year I was invited to speak at a conference near Bend, Oregon. It is a place very dear to me, full of memories from my childhood. The Deschutes River flows through there, and I was looking forward (can you believe my tenacity?) to some great time on the water with my new fly rod. (Country musicians usa a fiddle, but to play Mozart you need a violin. Bait fisherman use poles, while fly fisherman use rods.) I made what I felt would be my winning move. A friend arranged access for me to a private stretch of the Deshutes, a ranch visited each year by only a handful of people. The caretaker was an old master fly fisherman. When the owner of the shop in town learned where I was headed, he looked around furtively, leaned across the counter, and whispered, "Mister, that may be the best one hundred yards of fishing in the United States." Something smiled in my heart and said, Check.
Old Bill was a marvelous fisherman, and as we walked down to the water, he realized, "I'm thinkin'... let's see... you're the first guy to fish this since last October." Six months ago, I thought. This is going to be incredible. You know what's coming next. Nothing. We caught nothing. BIll had a funny look on his face. "John," he said, "people come from all over the world to fish this ranch. I've never had a day like this... ever." Feeling for all the world like Jonah, I said, "Bill, this is not about you. The fishing will be great tomorrow after I've gone." Checkmate.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Finding Rest
Something in me has been a little anxious and hard to settle. My spirit needs rest. A month or so ago our pastor preached a series on "The Art of Sabbath." This isn't what I mean by rest. And not "rest" from responsibilities of what I have been asked to steward. But, something is uneasy.
Early this week I began looking at what it means to rest "in" Jesus. Not rest "from" Him, or rest from life. I started with Matthew 11. 28"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
Jesus asks me, one who is weary and burdened, to come to him for rest. In Galations 6:5 it talks about the difference between a load and a burden. A burden is something that we shouldn't carry by ourselves, a load is something that we are supposed to carry. So, what am I trying to do, trying to carry, that I shouldn't be? I started a list. Not to get worked up about, but simply to bring to mind things that I am trying to handle, things that are burdening me, that really have no need to. So far, only one thing has come to mind. One person. My apple throwing compadre at the office.
Another day, I also looked at Hebrews 3. 7So, as the Holy Spirit says:
"Today, if you hear his voice,
8do not harden your hearts
as you did in the rebellion,
during the time of testing in the desert,
9where your fathers tested and tried me
and for forty years saw what I did.
10That is why I was angry with that generation,
and I said, 'Their hearts are always going astray,
and they have not known my ways.'
11So I declared on oath in my anger,
'They shall never enter my rest.' "[a]
I have understood that I need to be aware of not shutting out God. This is a desert time. I must not rebel against Him. I must not harden my heart to God during this desert time so that I will enter a place of rest.
Early this week I began looking at what it means to rest "in" Jesus. Not rest "from" Him, or rest from life. I started with Matthew 11. 28"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
Jesus asks me, one who is weary and burdened, to come to him for rest. In Galations 6:5 it talks about the difference between a load and a burden. A burden is something that we shouldn't carry by ourselves, a load is something that we are supposed to carry. So, what am I trying to do, trying to carry, that I shouldn't be? I started a list. Not to get worked up about, but simply to bring to mind things that I am trying to handle, things that are burdening me, that really have no need to. So far, only one thing has come to mind. One person. My apple throwing compadre at the office.
Another day, I also looked at Hebrews 3. 7So, as the Holy Spirit says:
"Today, if you hear his voice,
8do not harden your hearts
as you did in the rebellion,
during the time of testing in the desert,
9where your fathers tested and tried me
and for forty years saw what I did.
10That is why I was angry with that generation,
and I said, 'Their hearts are always going astray,
and they have not known my ways.'
11So I declared on oath in my anger,
'They shall never enter my rest.' "[a]
12See to it, brothers, that none of you has a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God. 13But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin's deceitfulness. 14We have come to share in Christ if we hold firmly till the end the confidence we had at first. 15As has just been said:
"Today, if you hear his voice,
do not harden your hearts
as you did in the rebellion."[b]
16Who were they who heard and rebelled? Were they not all those Moses led out of Egypt? 17And with whom was he angry for forty years? Was it not with those who sinned, whose bodies fell in the desert? 18And to whom did God swear that they would never enter his rest if not to those who disobeyed[c]? 19So we see that they were not able to enter, because of their unbelief.
I have understood that I need to be aware of not shutting out God. This is a desert time. I must not rebel against Him. I must not harden my heart to God during this desert time so that I will enter a place of rest.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
The Difference Between Boys' Bikes and Girls' Bikes
A couple of the ladies in my 
office were discussing bicycles, and especially why a girls' bike has no cross bar, while a boys' bike does. They said, "That's a question for Ed." My guess was because years ago many females wore skirts while riding their bikes. But, I needed to know for sure. I found this article which confirms my thoughts. The article also gives kudos to what Trek is doing. I ride a Trek Fuel, so I guess I am very partial to Trek. Just a word of caution, the article does refer to various male "parts" and how they may be injured on the cross bar of a boys' bike. Just a word of caution for those who may find offense.
office were discussing bicycles, and especially why a girls' bike has no cross bar, while a boys' bike does. They said, "That's a question for Ed." My guess was because years ago many females wore skirts while riding their bikes. But, I needed to know for sure. I found this article which confirms my thoughts. The article also gives kudos to what Trek is doing. I ride a Trek Fuel, so I guess I am very partial to Trek. Just a word of caution, the article does refer to various male "parts" and how they may be injured on the cross bar of a boys' bike. Just a word of caution for those who may find offense.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
And it WAS FULL
This morning when I was talking to the septic tank guy he said that our previous drainage field was pretty much none existant. He said that it couldn't hold any more. Sort of reminded me of cousin Eddie from Christmas Vacation.
Dirt. No Dirt. Dirt. No Dirt. Dirt. No Dirt.
We are finally closing in on the end of having a new septic system installed. The journey began in February. Our county sanitarian and I have become nearly best friends. We have talked often on the phone. But, our friendship is based on human waste.The company that we hired to do the septic system comes highly recomended. But, the company didn't want to start the job until the ground was very dry. Like, late June. The sanitarian didn't like that, especially since sewage seemed to be draining out a
pipe and down a hill on our property. I could see his point. I did some digging as he asked to try and find the break in the drain tile line which may have been causing it to divert there instead of into the drainage field. I dug and dug and dug and dug. I found break upon break in the drainage tile. The sanitarian said that I could stop digging as I had done everything within reason to try and stop it.
So the septic company put in the tanks at the end of June. But, the couldn't put the new drain field in then simply due to other jobs. They finally attempted around July 23rd, but couldn't due to rain. The rain made the ground soft, which meant their big trucks were sinking in my lawn. So, they started Monday.
My wife and I were going to keep most/all of the dirt. But, they had to dig down a lot further than was originally anticipated to get to good sand. See, sand helps drain away waste and things. Instead of digging down the original 10' they had planned to, the ended up digging down 23'. Yes, down 23'. So 10' wide, by 60' long, by 23' long equals a lot of cubic feet of dirt.
Jean, thinking of me, wanted them to take it away as that was a lot of dirt to move around. But, I wanted to build her a cool retaining wall so that we could have more usable yard and that she could put her vegetable garden in.
Well, Jean told the guy who owns the septic installation company that we didn't want the dirt. He wasn't a happy camper. I came home. We talked over keeping the dirt. He was all set to put up a silt fence for us until we got the wall built. Then, he was concerned that the
clay would be too heavy against the retaining wall, and that we would have water leaks in our 
basement because the pipe that drains water away from our basement would be obstructed. So, I told him to take it away. He wasn't happy because empty trucks were sitting there for over half a day that could have been taking dirt away. But, he'll get paid for his time. And, we won't have to worry about breaking retaining walls, or bad septic systems. This morning he said that the drainage field we had was pretty much useless. It couldn't hold anymore. I will miss seeing him every morning when I leave for work. I will also miss the loud equipment. 
Will I be able to think without them there? Will our kids be able to nap with out the noise? I sure hope so. The final tally was 45 truck fulls of dirt which equaled 400 cubic yards hauled out.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Some Trips Are Better Than Others
Some where, some how the "falla" was lost. "Falla" is the name that Alina gave to her pacifier. Friday it was lost, sometime around nap time. The sobbing could be heard for miles. Jean was creative enough to say that it went on a trip. That seemed to help some. Way more than the panic of it being "lost" ever would. She did really well with out it. It has taken her a bit longer to go to sleep at night, but she has been doing really well. I am not sure if I could give up something that has helped me my entire life to go to sleep that easily.
Yesterday evening I was out cleaning the garage. It miraculously appeared. Under the Moe's frisbee. I told Jean that I found it, but we decided that it is best that it still be on a trip.
Yesterday evening I was out cleaning the garage. It miraculously appeared. Under the Moe's frisbee. I told Jean that I found it, but we decided that it is best that it still be on a trip.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
And David Gave them the Nod
I lead a group of mountain bikers on Tuesday nights. We ride the 7 mile loop, then do a Bible study. Last night we ended the official riding season for the group with a pool party for all of the guys and their families. The food was great, and the pool was very refreshing – especially considering the heat index has been around 104ยบ the last several days.
Not only was there cool people, good food, and significant splashing, there was also the infamous awards night. There were two award catagories: Ed's Awards, and the People's Choice Awards.
The Ed's Award for "Perfect Attendance" went to Carl. Not only was Carl there for every ride, including the 4th of July ride, but Carl even came the night that it rained. Carl received a pencil filled with Candy, and a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The Ed's Award for "I Didn't Ride, but I Came Anyway" went to Derek and Jack. They received a car sucker from the movie "Cars," and a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The People's Choice Award for "Best Bike Part MIshap" went to "Sparky" for losing the disc brake off his bike. Sparky received a pair of pliers and a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The People's Choice Award for "Most Painful Fall" most definitely would have been won hands down by Gary. Gary had a fall where he smashed his face on a stump, and about 16 hours later got the sweats and dizziness due to the trauma to his sinus cavity. Gary has been on vacation and couldn't be with us Tuesday night. Josh was voted to receive the award. Josh received a first aid kit and a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The People's Choice Award for "Mr. Fearless" went to Carl. Carl typically lapped everyone at least once on the trail, and most often twice. Carl received a race car helmet with candy inside, along with a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The People's Choice Award for "Mr. Wisdom" went to Terry. Terry received a flashlight filled with candy, and a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The People's Choice Award for "Superhero" went to Brian. Brian works at a local bike shop always seemed to be at the right place at the right time, along with a servant's heart, to help out when there was equipment failure. Brian received a Spiderman Pez Dispensor and a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The People's Choice Award for "Mr. Positive" went to Johnny for his great attitude no matter how difficult the trail was. Johnny received a 100 Grand candy bar, and the now famed David Hasselhoff certificate.
Not only was there cool people, good food, and significant splashing, there was also the infamous awards night. There were two award catagories: Ed's Awards, and the People's Choice Awards.
The Ed's Award for "Perfect Attendance" went to Carl. Not only was Carl there for every ride, including the 4th of July ride, but Carl even came the night that it rained. Carl received a pencil filled with Candy, and a David Hasselhoff certificate.The Ed's Award for "I Didn't Ride, but I Came Anyway" went to Derek and Jack. They received a car sucker from the movie "Cars," and a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The People's Choice Award for "Most Painful Fall" most definitely would have been won hands down by Gary. Gary had a fall where he smashed his face on a stump, and about 16 hours later got the sweats and dizziness due to the trauma to his sinus cavity. Gary has been on vacation and couldn't be with us Tuesday night. Josh was voted to receive the award. Josh received a first aid kit and a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The People's Choice Award for "Mr. Fearless" went to Carl. Carl typically lapped everyone at least once on the trail, and most often twice. Carl received a race car helmet with candy inside, along with a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The People's Choice Award for "Mr. Wisdom" went to Terry. Terry received a flashlight filled with candy, and a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The People's Choice Award for "Superhero" went to Brian. Brian works at a local bike shop always seemed to be at the right place at the right time, along with a servant's heart, to help out when there was equipment failure. Brian received a Spiderman Pez Dispensor and a David Hasselhoff certificate.
The People's Choice Award for "Mr. Positive" went to Johnny for his great attitude no matter how difficult the trail was. Johnny received a 100 Grand candy bar, and the now famed David Hasselhoff certificate.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
A Hiking Kilt for Men
Sunday after church we 
went with our friends Mitch and Anna to our favorite eat a ton of food and feel really full for nearly 16 hours for a cheap amount and it's really good for you restaurant, Moe's. Mitch likes to backpack. I like to backpack. We have taken a trip together with a couple of other guys from our church to do a section of the North Country Trail and Manistee River Trail.
While at lunch, Mitch was telling me about an article in the Grand Rapids Press where this guy was testing some camping gear. And, he was wearing a hiking kilt. A hiking kilt?? What the heck! I guess they are supposed to be really comfortable. Maybe I will wear one someday while I am backpacking. Maybe not. My wife Jean and I are going backpacking this weekend. I know I won't wear one this weekend.
I told Mitch that it would be cool
to do a sweet photoshop edit of Kevin's head (Kevin is one of the guys that went with us on the trip). So, I did. I promised Kevin in an oath of brotherhood that I wouldn't post the photoshopped picture of him in the kilt. So, here is a picture of some dude hiking with a kilt on. If you know Kevin, just imagine his sweet melon where this guy's head is. Every time I see the picture of Kevin's head in the kilt picture, I nearly fall out of my chair dying of laughter.
went with our friends Mitch and Anna to our favorite eat a ton of food and feel really full for nearly 16 hours for a cheap amount and it's really good for you restaurant, Moe's. Mitch likes to backpack. I like to backpack. We have taken a trip together with a couple of other guys from our church to do a section of the North Country Trail and Manistee River Trail.
While at lunch, Mitch was telling me about an article in the Grand Rapids Press where this guy was testing some camping gear. And, he was wearing a hiking kilt. A hiking kilt?? What the heck! I guess they are supposed to be really comfortable. Maybe I will wear one someday while I am backpacking. Maybe not. My wife Jean and I are going backpacking this weekend. I know I won't wear one this weekend.I told Mitch that it would be cool
to do a sweet photoshop edit of Kevin's head (Kevin is one of the guys that went with us on the trip). So, I did. I promised Kevin in an oath of brotherhood that I wouldn't post the photoshopped picture of him in the kilt. So, here is a picture of some dude hiking with a kilt on. If you know Kevin, just imagine his sweet melon where this guy's head is. Every time I see the picture of Kevin's head in the kilt picture, I nearly fall out of my chair dying of laughter.
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