A Little Slice of Heaven in Elk Grove Village

Last weekend I met with the three other men on my team, Ed, Larry and Bob. We are part of a ministry, organized through the Orchard Church in Arlington Heights, IL. We are part of a larger group of guys known at the church and by our assigned care-receivers as Men in Action (MIA). We operate in small teams of 3 or 4 and our purpose is to help with chores, small maintenance projects, repairs, yard work. The care receivers are women who are either single mothers or widows. Normally our service days are scheduled for the second Saturday of each month. Last weekend was an exception and my team returned to Donnas' home, again on the following Saturday in order to get the last of the fallen leaves out of her yard and out to the curbside for the final pickup by the village.

The day was warmer than expected in mid-November, and with Thanksgiving only days away, this day somehow felt different than most service days. Of course, Donna is always very thankful for our help, but I felt a little more thankful for the sunshine today and the privilege of living in the tidy northwest Chicago suburban community, serving this woman with this loyal band of dedicated brothers. Men in Action is more than just a service-oriented ministry, it is also intended to be as much relationship-centered as it is task-oriented. At the same time we also purpose to demonstrate the love of God in action and to make our walk with Christ more present in the community.

It was very cool to watch, as we raked, blew and bagged leaves, many of the nearby neighbors were doing the same. We exchanged some friendly banter with the lady across the street. Ed walked across to help her as she muttered something about her slow-moving son, who was supposed to be out there helping. We also had some friendly exchange with the next door neighbor, Bob. Bob is an elderly man who has loaned us some assistance in the past in the way of an extension ladder and some essential tools for other unforeseen circumstances we've encountered. There is another man down the block who walks past with his dog during times we have been at work. He always stops to chat while also offering any tools or assistance we might need.

After we complete our work projects and prepare to pack up our trunks, we gather in a circle, join hands and pray together with Donna. Since we were out in the front lawn, we invited the next door neighbor, Bob, to join us. He was more than willing to be included in our circle. Just as we finished and our circle broke, a woman came by and smiled and exchanged some pleasantries with neighbor, Bob, and shared that she had her comfy shoes on today as she was just preparing to feed some 650 people at a nearby hall. I told the bubbly lady that she had just missed our little prayer circle and that had she been only moments earlier she could have joined us too.

As we all parted for our respective destinations and pre-holiday business, I thought how nice to witness these moments of small-town fellowship unfurl so naturally. It was like Elk Grove Village, at least on this Saturday morning, looked something more like a scene from the idyllic town of Mayberry. For me, it was a little slice of Heaven on earth.

One Good Panty Story Deserves Another…

This is not to say my panty story is better than your panty story (I'm referring to Zep's last panty post). I was just reminded of a true story that happened to me some years back that involved a wayward pair of very young girl's underwear. The young girl, in this case, happens to be my daughter. She must've been about eight years old at the time. Anyway, she's in her second year at college now, I know she follows this blog and I'm quite certain this will be the first time that she is made aware of this embarrassing (to me) story.

I work for a research company in Chicago. This is one of those great companies that offer many nice benefits for their employees, including catered lunches, free soft drinks, happy hours, 401k and lots of other perks. One of those perks was a paid health club membership. I took advantage of this and probably used the club 2-3 times a week. I didn't' keep a locker at the club, so I typically took my gym bag home at the end of the week, put my work-out clothes in the laundry and on Sunday evening, I would pack my bag with fresh-washed shirts, shorts and socks.

Well, as washed and heat-dried clothes are wont to do; they often stick together due to what's commonly referred to as "static cling". Static cling is what caused a pair of my young daughter's panties to attach themselves to my gym clothes. So you can imagine my embarrassment as I was changing in the locker room and a pair of little girl's underwear falls out of my bag and onto the floor.

This happened in front of at least two witnesses. So what's the best way to react? I was, of course, caught off guard myself, but it only took me a few seconds to piece it all together. I could literally feel the judgmental sideways glances that were boring through me. I quickly scooped the garment, stuffed it into my bag, I thought I could easily explain…I realized at that moment, there was nothing I could've said that would've made this situation any better. There are times when it's best to keep silent and just let people think what they're going to think. This was one of those rare occasions.

A story I've been wanting to tell.....

There are some words that should be creeds to live by.  “Keep your underwear in a safe and secure place” is an example of this.  One recent morning, I packed my messenger bag with everything I needed to get me through the work day.  I was planning on working out and decided I should bring a change of “underthings” with me.  I was rushing to get out of the house and carelessly put them in the front portion of my messenger bag.  They joined the intimate club of pens, miscellaneous change, gum, tweezers, bits of paper, receipts (that are probably no longer needed), things that I just don’t know what to do with and my train pass.   Having mastered packing up my bag and getting into the car, I made it without challenge to the train.  I usually expect to travel by train with little or no episode, but some days this is not to be.  It started off like any normal train ride.  Got into my seat, adjusted my messenger bag on the metal rack (as I’m on the top part of the train), pulled my book out and began to read.  I realized after the 3^rd paragraph that I deviated from habit by not pulling out my train pass.  I put my book down, carefully saving my place, swung my knees out of my seat and leaned over unzipping the front compartment of my messenger bag.  I didn’t unzip it all the way in some weird conservation of time and zipper opening.  I reached in, found my pass and began to pull it out.  For some reason it was stuck on something so I tugged a little harder and whatever it was stuck on, gave way, causing me to flip my hand up and out of the bag and into the air.  Unfortunately, my red flowered unders were attached to the train pass until I flipped my hand in the air.  At that point, they were airborne.  I had been fumbling a bit so all eyes were already on me in the train.  Now all eyes were on the downward decent of my parachuting unders.  My first thought was thank God it was a pair of nice ones. I watched, with others as they gently glided onto the lap of a lady in the lower section of the train.  The woman quickly grabbed the offending unders, reached up into the sky and offered them back to me. After a hurried, “um, thanks” I shoved them back into my pack, sat down, picked up my book and began to read.  My fellow passengers settled back into their weekday morning routines of paper reading, ipod listening and laptop typing.  The rest of the train ride was mercifully uneventful.  I tried to gather up my self respect and appear as if nothing had happened.  We pulled into the train station and I grabbed my bag and stood so that I could make a quick exit.  Unfortunately the train was still in motion and we lurched forward as it came to a complete stop.  I lost my balance and fell into the man behind me, who caught me in his arms.  I heavily apologized and felt like a fool.  I felt even more the clown when after I said to the man “oh my. I’m so sorry!! Excuse me!” he replied “that is okay, after all I’ve already seen your underwear”.

Bring It On, Old Man Winter...

I don't understand why so many people have a problem with the days getting shorter and the temperature falling during this time of the year. If you live here, in the Midwest, it's just the way it is. I say embrace it. I am one of the few who seem to have no problem with time change, cold weather, cloudy days or big storms (providing there is no serious power loss, flooding or major damage to person or property). I love the idea of burrowing in a down comforter with a good book (or The Good Book) as a winter storm rages outside.

This weekend we must remember to change our clocks. We roll it back one hour so that it will be dark by 5:00 pm, when I'm getting out of work. This event is very depressing to many people. As for me – I really like it…really! I love the chill that November brings; I love the idea of walking in the cooler temperature. I like the leaves blowing around and the warm glow coming from the homes of tree-lined neighborhoods as I imagine families having dinner together, and just doing family things in the cozy confines of their private little nests. I love the time after Halloween leading up to Thanksgiving as it conjures for me even more Rockwellian impressions.

The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas is almost magical as the first snows begin to fall and the holiday treatments begin to adorn the homes in honor of my Lord, the smell of wood burning in the fireboxes and a warm glass of wine awaits my arrival. This is my season and I never dread the shorter days, the colder nights or the harried pace. And I know that soon enough the pendulum swings the other way. Before I know it, I will be blogging about my spring garden preparation.

The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind...a halloweeeeen story!!

Dim the lights and sit by the campfire for this story.  There is a spooky tone to it....Okay, not real spooky, just my wandering mind (better it wander to the paranormal than the thoughts it has when I am a 12 year old boy...)


So my kid has a real job.  A 9 to 5 er (actually an 830-530er but you know what I mean).  He needed his social security card to bring to work tomorrow.  He is a bit nervous as he wants to make a good impression so having everything they ask for is essential in his getting good sleep tonight.  Yesterday, his father and I went to the store to buy him a few shirts as a "good luck" present.  We find some nice ones (even if the father was dubious about the purple strip one, but I know this kid and he'll look a treat in it) and took them home to be laundered and ironed.  The phone rings and aforementioned son reminded me to bring the soc card.  I looked in the file and gasp!!! No card!! I'm freaking out. I keep yelling "Father Father!! Where is sons card??".  No answer.  I'm running around and the father overhears and says "oh, I put it with the shirts I ironed". WHEW!  So all is well...until the morning.......

Grab a bag, put shirts, card, other mail in the bag.  Flop it in the back seat.  Now this is a very very big bag and the contents are very small and down in the bottom of the bag. Oh, let me mention...it is a winnie the pooh blustery day in the city.  It is a detail to take note of.  Traffic is light, we make the city in record time.  I get out of the car, grab the bag  being careful to hold it just so to avoid the newly pressed shirts getting wrinkled and walk to his apartment.  We take shirts out of bag and HORROR!!! No social security card!  We shake out mail, shirts, stuff on his bed and determine that, nope, card is not there.  I run down to the car and look in the back seat and around the car, nope, card is not there. THERE IS NOW A PANIC!!!  It is decided that the card never made it into the bag (although deep down inside I believe it did).  I can't explain this.  I hop in the car and head for home to see if I can find the prankster playing government identification.  I'm heading close to home when it hits me.....this would be my late mothers idea of a perfect Halloween joke...her's and my late brothers.....I say out loud "HEY...ENOUGH IS ENOUGH...I know you are pranking me, but my son?? He is your buddy!! He is your shining light!! This is going to effect the one you love the most! It won't just f me up mother! It is going to f up the light of your now former life!!"  Approximately 35 seconds later my phone rings...it is my son.."Mom, you are not going to believe it, dad and I were outside looking around and I bent down to look under the cars on the opposite side of the road and when I stood up I looked to my right and there it was...blowing in the grass down the street. Damn thing had to be out there for 45 minutes or so..but i have it"......Hmmmm....coincidence that he found it just after I reminded my late mother who would suffer from her prank???  Could be, but as it is Halloween eve, I think not....I'm sleeping with one eye open tonight.

It Was the Best Halloween Costume…It Was Worst Halloween Costume…

It might not seem so apparent today, but there was a time, when I was younger, when I was often told that I looked a lot like the recently deceased actor, Christopher Reeve. He was probably remembered best for his role in the Superman movies. During the time when these movies were popular, I must've got the comment at least 3-4 times a week, "Hey did anyone ever tell you that you look like Christopher Reeve?" It did get very old. I didn't mind so much being compared to the actor Reeve as much as hearing that I looked like Clark Kent. Rarely did anyone actually say I looked like Superman…it was always Clark Kent.

So during the height of my celebrity doppelganger period, I decided it appropriate to dress for a huge Halloween party as the mild-mannered Clark Kent. Most people thought this was a lame costume attempt, as I only had to wear a cheap grey suit and horn-rimmed glasses to pull it off. Many of my friends at this party thought it was a cheap and lazy cop-out. What many people at the party didn't know was that I actually went through great pains, the week prior, to create a Superman costume that I wore underneath the suit and tie. My plan was to transform into the super hero at a later point in the evening when many at this party would be quite drunk/stoned. The costume was easy enough to make. All I needed was a powder blue leotard, tights, an iron on appliqué of the superman emblem for my chest, a pair of red shorts and socks, and a piece of red material for a cape. It all went beautifully… at least for a while. In fact, it went so well that many people didn't realize that I was the same person later transformed.

As the evening wore on, I realized there was a big problem. I hadn't thought about the fact that I would be drinking several pitchers of beer during the party. This costume was not designed for frequent bathroom visits. Imagine for a moment the contortions one must go through to quickly extricate one's manhood from a pair of shorts, a leotard and tights?! It was a nightmare! It seems to me that I ended up cutting an access port through the nylon at some point later in the night. It was a great costume; it was just very bad in function. Still, I think my friend, Frank, had it worse that night. I recall that he went to the party dressed as Robin Hood, but all night people mistook him for Peter Pan.

Does this ever happen to you?

It's a lazy fall Saturday and my ideal thing to do is hang out in the bedroom, with my laptop, while also watching bad tv (reality, scary shows from the 80s, you know the types of shows) and eat diced up potatoes.  Yep, potatoes. I put lots of sumptuous ingredients in there which is a nice way of saying I clean out the fridge and whatever is about to turn to into another form goes into the pan.  I usually throw in some hot peppers and cover the entire thing in cheese.  A very guilty pleasure.  Luckily this morning I did just that.  I dived into this delicious mess o' starch and savored the melded flavors from god knows what and came upon something of unknown origin.  Couldn't figure out what was in my mouth currently being masticated.....this thought struck me...how many times have I done the same thing?  Happily munching away only to start gnawing on something I can't identify and think probably shouldn't be in the thing I'm eating....but I keep eating because it might be more horrifying to take it out of my mouth and identify it.  Is that just me?

Freud would have a field day...

The censors have deleted the picture...naw, not really, I just felt it would be in really bad taste to have any of the pictures I found accompany this post!

This morning I am left wondering why some days I have perfectly normal thoughts and see things for what they are and other days my mind goes straight to smut, or more accurately, why on  I'm stealing the mind of some 12 year old boy. Let me explain......occasionally I have to drive into work. Drive might be a bit inaccurate as the word "drive" implies forward movement.  Not a lot of forward movement on the 90 in the morning heading into Chicago.  This lack of movement gives one the opportunity to let their mind wander....and wander mine did. Indeed.  It wandered into the land of "huh, that sure looks phallic".  Once you go down this path, you will find that this world is made of objects that are in phallic shape.  Is this due to having a male dominated society? Did one land baron put up a smoke stack in this shape and the next one had a bigger girthier one to prove their manliness?  In our products and signage, is the idea to attract women by formatting common things in this shape? (it calls to mind a few female deodorants whose shapes would make a sex shop clerk blush)  I won't point out all the different objects, buildings, signs, trees that I felt were in phallic shape during my ride as I don't want you to suggest intensive therapy to me.  I will point out that if you have some extra time, say while on the 90 in Chicago, and are approaching Jefferson Park, keep your eyes peeled and be prepared to giggle. (Like I said...12 year old boy)

Biology, Theology and Ichthyology…

I have a pond that is really central to our beautiful garden landscape. At its peak during the summer, it is colorful, serene and attracts birds and other interesting wildlife, and the sound of spilling water is so calming. At night I have it softly lit so we can enjoy it when sitting out with a fire and glass of wine.
I have a spring and fall ritual for opening the pond season and closing it down for the winter. I like to choose one of the last warm days of autumn to cut my water lilies down, dredge out the debris, clean and store the filter parts. But most important to this ritual, is catching the fish and bringing them in to a tank I've set up in my basement to house them during the brutally frigid Chicago winter months when the pond freezes over solid.

I have to imagine the fish would welcome this controlled indoor environment, especially if they knew what the alternative was – a very dark and cold entombment until April. Koi and goldfish are coldblooded, so it's possible for them to survive outdoors for the winter. This is providing that there is a hole in the ice to allow for exchange of surface gases. Koi and goldfish, if left outdoors for the cold season, begin to go into hibernation mode when the water temperature reaches about 50 degrees. They stop eating and their metabolism slows down to conserve energy as they prepare for a state of suspended animation. I know this, because I used to leave my fish to withstand the winter elements for years. I gave them a fighting chance by using a stock tank heater which floats on the surface and uses just enough energy to allow for a small hole in the ice.

This is the second year I brought my fish indoors. They look so content in the tank, free from predators, warm and well-fed. This makes me feel like a fish-god of sorts. This all made me wonder why my fish were trying so hard to hide and evade my net when all I sincerely want is what's ultimately best for them. This is much the way we often react to our loving God in Heaven. We run and try and hide, because of course, we know what's best for ourselves. I was getting frustrated as I tried to catch the fish and wishing I could somehow make them realize that I'm only doing what is best for their well-being.

It's interesting, that the Christian symbol for God is fish-related. There are a few explanations for this. Fish do not close their eyes, so the perception is they never really sleep. God is all seeing and never closes His eyes. Then of course there is the ichthus symbol, from the ancient Greek word for fish… (Ich-thoos).
In the early Christian church – 1^st and 2^nd century, there was so much persecution of Christian believers, that ichthus was used as a secret code in order to establish that you were a believer. One believer would draw a curved line, like a smile, in the dirt with a stick. If the other person was a believer too, they would draw the opposite curve, but inverted and the line would intersect just enough to give the impression of a tail fin, this would create the fish symbol known as icthus that adorns many car bumpers today. Incidentally, the study and science of marine life is known as Ichthyology.

The Critter

Did you ever notice how much better something tastes when you don't have everyday access to it?  To further enhance the mystique, add extra calories, fat and a "deep fried" component and you now have the definition of HEAVEN (said in a high pitch, sing songy voice) .

Let me introduce you to a delight fondly referred to as "The Critter"

Public the Critter, The Critter, Public.

This is serious stuff.  The Critter (as it is has been named by my family) is a delicious fritter that can only be obtained in Madison Wisconsin at Greenbush Bakery. It is simply the sincerest form of telling your tummy you love it.  The Critter can be had in either apple or blueberry and is a limited run in the morning.  You can not even imagine the sadness in your belly when you walk into Greenbush and see emptyness where nirvana once was.  This is truly a case of 'you snooze, you lose' as they make only so many critters and when they sell out...well they sell out.

I only get up to Madison every other month or so but one of my favorite habits is my early morning walk on Sundays..... I pass the Catholic church with its elderly parishoners dressed in their finery to attend the earliest mass, the students stumbling home after crashing in random houses that had late night parties, early morning joggers out to fill their lungs with the crisp autumn air, and end up Greenbush Bakery in time for my pick of Critters. In an ever crazed world some of us chose to live in, the walk, the scene and The Critter gives a call to mind that life is delicious.

No money in Toes        

As far as maladies go, I really have nothing to complain about…however I will not let that little fact stop me.  I am in a complete state of awe this morning…awe at how much a toe can hurt.  I was concocting (and I use the word concoct because it is tremendously fun to say) a rather large yarn as to how I hurt my toe.  It had sword fights, villains, romance, a sea monster and a large rhinoceros…..but my laptop hiccupped and I am too lazy to reinvent the invented.

So here is the truth.  It is my habit to do some sort of meditation before bedtime to remind myself how lucky I am and how grateful I should be for all that I have.  I usually do this as a guided meditation, either from a website, or one of the many things I have downloaded.  A great deal of the time I doze off during these mediation to wake up in a foggy hazy pleasant “just need to turn off my laptop and the sleep nymphs will carry me away!” state.  Last night was no exception.  Oh….here is a big point….I am a clod. I’m sure if you have read any of this blog site you will have already come to that conclusion.  This is important to remember going forward.  Back to last night…I dozed off, as per usual, and when I came to in my foggy hazy pleasant lalalalalala, I was a bit more careless than usual.  I put my foot out of bed and as I was moving my laptop off my bed and onto the bedside table, it got caught up in the cord, and the cord somehow wrapped itself around the water on the table and I saw my iphone there and I freaked out and made a grab for the phone and water at the same time while DROPPING MY LAPTOP….luckily my toe cushioned the fall……..I then spent the next 15 minutes writhing in pain on the floor (that rolling around thing you do when you hurt yourself? The one when you keep saying “ouch” or “ohmygodthathurts” or some variation a bit saltier?).  When the pain subsided to a 7 instead of a 10 I laid in bed and the thought “There is no money in toes” came into my head.  Years ago, a friend of mine briefly dated a guy who worked in the workman’s comp arena.  He told me “If you have an injury, make sure it is an arm or a leg, not a toe….there is no money in toes”.

Good to note….

Halloween… Humbug!

I'm not easily irked, but when I think about the things that burn my cork, much of what I realize bothers me often involve some form of waste. Waste of time, waste of money, waste of energy. Something else that annoys me is stupid trends. Fanny packs, baby on board signs, silly bandz and stemless wine glasses are some of the stupidest trends that immediately come to mind.

I was driving with a friend just last week, who also happens to be a contributor to this blog site, and saw that somebody was still proudly displaying a baby on board sign in the rear window of their car. My friend commented on how ridiculous these little warning signs are. She said, "Do these people actually believe that we are going to drive differently just because they have these signs in their car window?"

Well I've been noticing a stupid trend the last few weeks that violates all of the above. This trend is wasteful of time, money, energy and frankly it violates my senses. I'm talking about those ridiculous Halloween lights that people are stringing on heir bushes, porches and trees that are becoming so popular. Really? What is the point? All of a sudden it's not enough to have a jack-o-lantern or scarecrow on your porch? Jamming a faux tombstone in your lawn scrawled with RIP doesn't cut it anymore for you? Stuffing a stupid pumpkin-faced garbage bag full of leaves at least served a practical purpose.

Halloween lights on a string looks more like colorblind Christmas crap! Don't you people realize that we can't even tell that each lantern is a miniature skull unless we are two feet away? Oh, I'm sorry, they are a string of tiny eyeballs, or are they spiders? Who the heck can tell from the street…inside a car? Have you people heard about our country's energy crisis? Is it not enough to deck out your house for the real holidays? I guess I can be a little more generous and give you some credit for spending on something so useless. If you have the money to throw around on such nonsense as spooky spider lights, maybe the situation concerning our economic state isn't as dire as we might think.

Dracula Doesn’t Completely Suck…

Weekends are way too short these days. Daughter home from college – my parents and two younger brothers over on Saturday night and we had nice visit with wine, Giordano's pizza and Mom's lasagna and meatballs. We all got together to see my recently deceased older brother's widow, Bev, play viola in the pit at Cutting Hall theater in Palatine. Beverly and orchestra were wonderful!

The show was the Midwest premier of Dracula the Musical. The show was not half as bad as the title might suggest, though there were a few moments of badly suppressed giggling. There were several scenes where Dracula was wired to fly. You can always anticipate stage flight. The wires are conspicuously visible as the actors are generally tethered from the beginning of the scene, while you wait in hopeful, yet in a twisted half-hope of some equipment malfunction. Or perhaps that is just me.

I always imagine they might be hooked up wrong, the wire will snap, or the actor will be buffeted repeatedly against the set walls, while twisting around like a helpless piñata at a kid's party. I think this was actually part of the draw for the recent Spiderman Musical catastrophe. All went well, but it wasn't enough to just have Dracula airborne. I guess whoever produced this show figured, as long as we have the flying equipment rigged, at who knows what cost, we may as well have some of the other actors fly around too. So the margin of possible mishap exponentially increased with the, seemingly random, aerial exhibitions. By the time it was all over, the characters of Lucy, Mina and even the insect-loving Renfield all had some air-time.

So yes, there were some giggles during what was, presumably intended to be some very dramatic theater. But there was another moment in the show, where if I were to guess, I would say that nearly half of the audience was suppressing some serious outburst of laughter. This was a scene, early in the second act, where Lucy is more vampire than human after repeated necking with the blood-starved Count. She is chased off stage, by Van Helsing and posse, as she's about to feast on an innocent little girl. Suddenly there is an offstage scream and one of the vampire hunters walks back on stage while clutching, by long blonde locks, the severed head of Lucy.

It makes me wonder if theater has really gotten so bad that dramatic moments evoke such fits of ambiguous laughter, or is it possibly a very clever part on the writers/producers to make the show much more fun, by giving the audience the illusion that we are being irreverent. Perhaps we are falling as much under their spell as Dracula had over his immortal minions?

You know you're old when....

Note the picture...it's important.....the details that led up to the picture are not important, just say that they are excuses and the same outcome would have occurred even if the events leading up to it were different.  The picture is indeed a result of someone checking their email, while crossing a street with a crowd of people and being a natural, how you say, um, klutz.  In checking email mode, one is not always cognizant of the pitfalls (or actual pits) of the roadway beneath their feet as they are ever obsessed with the newest "critical" message that appears on glowing screen.  For the connection obsessed, tripping  is inevitable and probably well deserved.  My actions as I tripped are not something to be proud of.  In pursuit of keeping the phone safe, the writer, when tripping and falling worried more about hand meeting the pavement in such a way that the phone, grasped in aforementioned hand, would be safe, instead of how the body would land.  And land this body did....with a thud and a rip (hence the picture).  The heartwarming thing was how the huddled masses yearning to be free from their workdays stopped, showed concern, helped me up, made sure I could walk, pooh poohed my "oh I'm so embarrassed" and generally made one glad to be part of the human race.  Spirits soaring, I continued on in a sprightly, if not a bit limipity fashion with love in my heart.... until I got to work.  My story was related to my team and a young colleague gave this story back. " Here is how you know you are old...if when you trip and fall people laugh at you, you are still young....if you trip and fall and they show concern and help you up...you are old".....


Ah.........I think on the way home I'll stop at the store for that support hose I've been wanting to try....

When Pigs Fly...

So, If I told you that I was at a friend's wedding last weekend and there was a real live cloven-hoofed pig at the ceremony, the first thing you might say is, "What kind of wedding was that?" it was actually one of the most beautiful ceremonies I've ever witnessed. Not only was it a perfect fall day, but the wedding was outdoors in a bucolic setting. Golden leaves were gently raining down upon the bride, groom and minister. At the same time musicians were strumming guitars as vocalists brought forest and valley alive with the sounds of Christian harmony.

Okay, back to the pig...

Not only was the pig (His name is Moo) present at the ceremony, but Moo took part in the ceremony. Moo was, in fact the the ring bearer...even if the rings he carried on a ribbon around his collar was only a symbolic likeness of the actual bands. Thankfully, Moo was not present at the reception. I don't think that would fly. But the pig sure did fly at the ceremony. After all, he's a very close member of the family...and we were in Wisconsin.

Whine and Cheese (y)

Welcome to the Whine Press.  A care free community of people who work together and enjoy expressing their thoughts, frustrations and hearts through creative writing.  The Whine Press never judges, scrutinizes or edits, we just upload (and share our minds).  The thoughts, ideas, opinions, brilliance express in these blogs are not those of the administrators of the blog (although we are probably darned jealous we didn't think of them in the first place).

So, welcome, pour yourself a large glass of whine, add a little cheese and enjoy!