Tag Archives: Plinky

Statue of Immortality

Your personal sculptor is carving a person, thing, or event from the last month of your life into the glistening marble of immortality. What’s the statue and what makes it so significant?

Putting aside the ridiculousness of the situation (a personal sculptor?), I think I would want the following: me kneeling at the foot of Jesus. The sculptor would emphasize how humble I am and the grace that Jesus has for me. I would be small in comparison.

This sculpture would serve as a reminder to everyone else to kneel before God.

Defining the Word Friend

I don’t define friend very often. But if I did, I would describe a friend as a person with whom I have trust beyond casual human trust. I trust most humans not to attack me, for instance. A friend is trusted more than that.

I don’t have secrets, so it’s not that I am looking for confidence in that area. A friend is someone with whom I can trust to help out when needed. That trust is built upon life experiences shared together.

That is a very short list of people in my life. Outside of my wife (who is my best friend), I think the list is two people long. Everyone else is classified as an acquaintance or a colleague.

There is also a group of people with whom I would describe as “people I know” who are more than acquaintances, I suppose. I’m thinking of a guy I know. His wife and my wife are good friends. We’re the husbands. But over the years, we have developed a relationship that is more than just the husbands. We have discussed smoking foods, making beer, cars, etc. There’s been a few phone calls to clarify things. A friend? Perhaps, but not really.

The thing is, defining this isn’t my kind of thing. Does it matter if I call you friend?

My Favorite Sound

Five years ago, I answered this question by stating the cooing of my nine-month old daughter. Well, she’s grown and she now has a brother.

While cooing is no longer in the vocabulary, the sounds of my children are still at the top of the list. My son asked me today, “How was work, Daddy?” I love hearing him ask me questions.

My daughter will ask me how to spell words, if I know the birth dates of her make-believe friends/dolls, etc. It lights up my face when she speaks.

There are many good sounds in life, but I’ll take hearing my children over all of them.

Would I Live Forever?

Yes, I would live forever if given the chance. Of course, I have that ability as a Christian.

Would I want to live forever on this planet? Absolutely not! This world is supposed to be the sowing ground for the next. This world is full of pain, suffering, pet peeves, and other loathsome events. Why the hell would I want to live here forever? To me, that sounds like hell on Earth.

Sure, there are some wonderful things about our world. I enjoy those things. But I live as though this is a temporary stop, not a permanent dwelling.

I’ve already passed my peak in some things. I am balding and beginning to forget some stuff. That certainly is not going to improve. Would I want eternity to be spent bald and forgetful? Nope!

Rather than live forever in this base society, it seems to me if we live correctly, we have entry into life everlasting. That would be neat as I know some folks already there. πŸ˜‰

Words I Live By

I don’t have a motto I live my life by. Depending on the day, a different saying may apply.

God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

No pain, no gain

But most days I try to accommodate the following:

Nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile

Robert Hunter, He’s Gone

I Heart These Charities

We have always been fairly protective of the charities we support. The reasons are multiple. For the shear convenience, by not advertising, we keep the beggars away. For instance, we love our police, but when we let it be known we had donated, the floodgates opened and we are still barraged with phone calls from police groups: both legitimate and not.

For years I supported Seva. Admittedly, I have not done so in years. I figured if the Dead thought enough of them to support them I could too.

Then again, I used to support PETA, and I am ashamed of that affiliation now. But I have given to PBS in the past too.

Anyhow, the one group we do support that we disclose is the Catholic Church. We are proud of our contributions. While the church has had plenty of issues throughout history (and even presently), the overall mission of the church is what we support. In particular, we enjoy Catholic education. We could not be more pleased with my daughter’s education presently. And yes, our gifts to the church support Catholic education among many other things. The tuition we pay is not what I am considering a gift to a charity.

Just a Little Hamless Venting

There’s not a whole lot bothering me right now.

There’s a little work thing, but I don’t discuss those things publicly. It’ll pass soon enough too.

There’s plenty politically that bugs me. That is why I have a blog to let loose on. πŸ™‚

The most immediate thing that is grating my nerves is the fact that I have two sets of neighbors who have no problem parking in front of my house on the wrong side of the street. If it were a one-time event, there would be no issue. It seems to be an ongoing issue. One vehicle, while parked in the correct direction (unlike two vehicles currently), was in front of my property for 20 months without moving.

It’s inconsiderate. I say nothing for a public street is a public street. But it seems wrong to park in front of someone else’s home when you have your own driveway and spaces in front of your home. And to do so backwards is, as my friend Bentley found out in Cape May a few decades ago, illegal.

But sweating the small stuff is hardly worth it. My buddy Jack from Tennessee is good at getting me to not get too worked up over things like this. πŸ˜‰

Ah, Roommates.

Hmmm . . . where to begin?

I suppose I can’t talk about my wife, eh? Prior to her I lived alone for a decade. That is because I learned that having a roommate sucked. Oh, it’s not that I necessarily had the Pacific Heights experience, but I had some interesting events.

I attended boarding school. Each year I had a roommate. My IV Form year was pretty good, although a whole bunch of us decided to room together so we could have a play room elsewhere. Yeah, that wasn’t such a wonderful idea.

In college I had a good roommate my Freshman year. That was until Mr. GQ moved in. This man had all sorts of apparatus for his encounters. Ah, Dave. Such memories.

The following two years was a good situation with my buddy Craig. FWIW, I was an excellent roommate. Everyone I lived with earned a 4.0 while I was the roommate. πŸ˜‰

Once Craig was graduated, I was able to secure a single dorm room. That was the best year of college.

Then I moved to Boston, whereupon I had two roommates. That fact was problematic as I thought I was moving to Boston to live with one person. So things got off to a rocky start and continued that way until I moved out six months later. We were young and were at each others’ throats. There’s only one person in this world that I know of who will not speak to me, and it was this roommate. That she brought a third person into the fold and then acted as though I was wrong to be miffed at the situation was just the start. The pettiness that ensued was horrendous. I learned later that she thought I was jealous of the loser guy she hooked up with. I chuckled at that. What she didn’t know was that I felt sorry for her as she changed radically during that time. Yup, I felt sorry for a friend.

Anyhow, after that I moved in with one of my best friends for 18 months. All was good there. Then we went our own ways. That had me living with my then girlfriend. That was fun while it lasted, although we got a house with her sister and boyfriend (who became husband). What a strange situation that became. When one begins to note his roommates do not brush their teeth, it is time to move on . . . and I did.

That was to my final roommate situation: three complete strangers. We had a house together. One guy was about eight years older than I. He was an accountant for a medical firm. Very 9-5. Then there was the girl from the mid-west. It was her first time on her own. She moved to the big city and partied constantly. Then there was Ford. He had four different girls’ names tattooed to his right arm. All were prison tats. He couldn’t hold a job the entire year+ we lived together. We all got along, but I knew my time in Boston was coming to an end. They were all slobs.

Until my wife, I never had another roommate. God forbid if anything ever happened, I would not ever have another roommate. I am set in my ways and work better doing it my way. Of course, that is the efficient and effective way. πŸ˜‰

To Have Loved and Lost

Obviously, it is better to have loved and lost. It is silly to argue otherwise.

While the lost love may hurt, it hurts because you have loved. Having loved is the reason we exist. It is not all fairy tales and soap operas. Love is also pain. We become better because of it . . . even if it disappears.

Guess what? Love can re-emerge elsewhere. So stop being a mamby pamby.

My Gift Wish List

It would be easy to point to the televisions I have been trying to purchase for a month now. That process has become such a chore, it is difficult to classify it in the gift column.

Of course, I am enamored with Livescribe’s digital pen too. While I would enjoy it and it would make a great gift, I suspect my enthusiasm for this will wane as reason wins out over desire.

Neither of those then satisfy the question. As a middle-aged man I have reached that point that I don’t need things. I also don’t expect things. If I ever come up with something I want, I buy it. Sure, that makes it difficult for others to provide gifts to me. Oh well . . .

Frankly, I am looking for permission to do something. That gift can only come from one person. As it will affect time I would be available for parenting (and husbandry), I need to have a discussion. Otherwise, the financial impact is minimal.

So there’s that and errr . . . peace on Earth. πŸ˜‰