A fleeting moment...

Thoughts passed through his mind as he sat on its cracked weathered timbers. He couldn’t help but think of the ones who’d been there before him. Lovers on a late night stroll, stopping to gaze into each other’s eyes and snuggle close in the evening breeze; kids whose hands were sticky from picking the specks of dirt from their gum that had fallen in the sand; Grandpas and Grandmas, who had looked on eagerly, recalling the days of their youth, as little ones took flight in front of them; defiant teens, out past curfew, knowing full well that Mom and Dad would be worried... but smoking their Marlboros none-the-less; visitors, stopping for a rest, eyes heavy from driving... taking in the fresh air in order to be rejuvenated. Like faded memories, their scent lingered in the air as a he watched his kids experience life. His thoughts were consumed by life; but not just with life, but living... existence... trying hard to fathom that life could actually go on without him. It is a hard concept to grasp, but one that was evident by the ones who had been there before him and the fact that they were no longer there.

Life goes on without you.

As quickly as his thoughts came, they were gone... as they were interupted ...by life.

Going against the grain...

Although Eddie won't approve of this next post either, "because he doesn't want to know every detail in my life..." I will go against the grain and will post it anyway... because, really, who is this eddo of posted note anyway?? lol.

Cookies Update: They are gone. History.

Since y'all thought the dog was yawning...

Ben (the unsuccessful commedian): "What do you mean that wasn't funny??"
Ben (the unsuccessful commedian): "Try this one: So this dog walks into a bar..."

Sharkey's Dog, Penny: "Yaaaawwwwnnn... Ben... STOP. Seriously, yer killin' me."

Ben (the unsuccessful commedian): "What do you mean you're bored??"
*Picture Courtesy of Sharky Malarky*

*Shakes head* (The dog is laughing people.)

God thinks I'm cool...

It's a typhoon out there. I know, I KNOW... hard to believe that there could be a typhoon in Minnesota, of all places... but thankfully, as a result of my good looks and charm and the Lord shining down on me... I am a dry as a guy who has been crawling through the desert for 5 days. You may be thinking... but Ben, wouldn't a guy crawling through the desert be drenched in sweat... to which my response is, "that would be only for the first 4 days. It's common knowledge that you stop sweating in the desert sometime during the middle of the 4th day." (Just call me Cliff Claven from Cheers.) ANYWAY, I arrived at work this morning and the clouds looked a little shady... but nothing to be to worried about. I walk to my building and about 2 steps before I get to the door, I hear this loud... SPLAT! splat! SPLAT! I think to myself, "That's strange... wonder what that was." I take two steps into the building and it is like my act of walking through the door has opened the flood gates of heaven... But because God thinks I am SO cool... (and if you hadn't noticed... he's always right you know) ...He waited until I entered the building before he let it rain. These where the biggest drops I have seen in my life. Anyway, the point to this whole ordeal is that some people just live right. And you, my friends, are reading about just such a person right now. What about all the people who are sopping wet right now you ask? All I can say is: "There must be too much sin in their life."

The story of a loving father...

So I am a hoarder... I don't like to share. Yesterday, I posted about these cookies Sydney had baked for me. Let me preface this story with the following statement: they were my "Father's Day Cookies." I must admit that they are my ALL TIME favorite cookies. And I don't mean this in a "fun loving... little girl who loves to skip everywhere she goes and loves everything she sees" kind of way. I mean it in a "if you touch these cookies, I will smack you upside the head so fast you won't know what hit you" kind of way. I was feeling generous yesterday morning (as I loaded the whole double batch of cookies into a freezer bag so I could take them to work and HOARD them for myself) and I decided to leave 8 of them behind for my son Jake. Now, this morning when I got up, even though I had a whole bag at work... this sole remaining cookie at home was calling my name.

Yep. You're right. I love these cookies in a "steal the last remaining cookie that you left for your son the day before" kind of way. And you know what?? I don't feel bad. No remorse. Cry six year old. You snooze. You lose. Jake I love you and I would give my life up for you if you are ever in danger... but umm... the last cookie? Forget it.

She makes some fine cookies and gives some fine lovin'....

My wife Sydney, makes THEE most delectable canadian shortbread cookies EVER Made. (If living in Canada is anything like eating these cookies... then I am there.) She is a great cook and a great lover. (This says nothing of her companionship... she is my bestfriend.) I ask you: for WHAT more could a man ask??

Not.one.thing.

P.S.
A post from Sydney is imminent. I told her that her fans are chanting her name...

Got any good jokes?

Ben: "That one WAS funny wasn't it... " *laughs*
Ben: "Here's another one for ya: So this dog walks into a bar..."

Sharkey's Dog, Penny: "Ahahaha... Ben... STOP... yer killin' me... "

(Guess I just have that affect on some people... and some dogs.)

*Picture Courtesy of Sharky Malarky*

Dear Coke...

Friday, June 24, 2005

E. Neville Isdell
Chairman, Board of Directors, CEO
The Coca-Cola Company
P.O. Box 1734, Atlanta Georgia 30301

Dear Mr. Isdell,

As President, Founder and (currently) Sole Member of the “Coke is IT! Fan Club,” I am writing this letter to bring to your attention a SERIOUS flaw within your current marketing campaign. I can understand that, as the CEO of such a large corporation, you do not have a lot of time, so I will get straight to the point. If you will look at your typical 20 oz. Bottle of Coke, you will notice that there is a misprint at the top of the label. I am sure that you meant to print that we have a 1 in 6 chance of winning a free Coke and not a 1 in 12 chance of winning a free Coke. Surely a company who cares about the people of the world SO much would not DECREASE our chances of winning would they? I recall your jingle in the 70’s... “I’d like to buy the world a coke... and keep it company...” I also recall the words peace and harmony intertwined in there somewhere as well. Well we are not asking you buy us a Coke... Just give us decent odds; furthermore, how does decreasing our odds of winning a free Coke increase peace and harmony? Can someone explain this to me, because I would like to know.

I recall a few years back, when your marketing campaign dropped the “Win a 1,000,000 dollars or a free Coke” to “Win a free Coke.” This did not bother me... because really, my chances of winning a million dollars were like one in a gajillion... so this didn’t affect my chances of winning really at all. I actually sang your praises... saying things like, “Coke FINALLY got their marketing campaign right... WIN A FREE COKE... that’s all we really want in life... just the opportunity to win a free Coke.” As a matter of fact, on the days I actually won a free coke... It was immediately a great day. As I would be driving down the road and I would look under my cap and the words “Free 20 oz Coke” were written... one could hear an audible “Woo Hoo!” coming from my car. In the back of my mind I would be thinking... “5 unlucky saps lost... BUT NOT ME. Lucky Number 6. YEAH B-A-B-Y!” Now you leave me with the chance of having a good day 1 in every 12 days. Not a good deal; unless this has all been some kind of mistake...

But if it hasn’t been a mistake and this was somehow intentional... Be.Forewarned. I am willing to file a lawsuit and bring it all the way to the Supreme Court if I must. If I were your company, I would be worried. Surely a Supreme Court that votes 5 to 4 in favor of taking people’s homes away to put up a new mall or corporation will side on my behalf. Their Kantian ways will side on what is best for the largest amount of people. And what is best for the people is: FREE COKE. You will be forced to return the odds back to 1 in 6... They may even force you to provide me with free coke for the rest of my life, because of the “trauma” you have caused me. I know this sounds harsh... but desperate times require desperate mesures. Thanks for your time. Again, I understand that you are a busy man. In closing, would like to leave you with these final words:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness....

Mr. Isdell, our pursuit of Happiness includes having a 1 in 6 chance to Win a free Coke.
Is a 1 in 6 chance of winning a free Coke too much to ask?


Sincerely,

Ben

President and Founder of the
“Coke is IT! Fan Club."

The Midnight Confrontation.

He’s the enemy. Like the grim reaper, he enters my presence as he glides through the midnight air on his trusty black steed. He would be a worthy opponent... if he were not so devious... so underhanded. As a puff of mist leaves his stallion’s nostrils, he draws his sword and with stealth and precision, his blade slices the night... leaving me writhing in such pain... leaving me twisted and contorted. My blood curdling screams can be heard throughout the house... and his sinister laugh can faintly be heard in the background as he gallops away... on to his next victim. As the pain diminishes and I fade back to a slumber, under my breath I whisper “Curse you Charlie! ... and your fricken Horse too.” Almost as quickly as this one sided battle occurs... It is finished.

Okay... that was a little over dramatic... but I kid you not... that’s what happened last night.

"Remember When..."

This post was inspired by a friend who has followed my blog since before it was Married In Minnesota. Crazy4acop tagged me with a couple of Memes... and while I don’t even know what this word means ...and normally I don’t do these... because she asked, I will incorporate the answers into this post. If the truth be known, I liked one of the questions because I loved cartoons when I was a kid... and the other asked what you miss about when you were a kid. When you think about it, the two actually go together quite well as it requires you to “reminisce” about your childhood. Who DOESN’T like to do that... well unless you were beat as a child... then I suppose you don’t like too. But for the moment, let’s pretend we weren’t beat when we were kids. lol. This post is called: "Remember When..."

Remember when you were so excited on Saturday morning to get up and watch cartoons that you would get up at 5 am to watch the test pattern? And not the screen with the rainbow colored bars on it, but the test pattern that looked like a radar screen. As the clock reached 6 o’clock, the national anthem would begin to play as jets would scream by, Eagles would soar, and “Old Glory” would flap in the wind on our TV Sets. Kids all over the country would be standing in darkened rooms with the flicker of the TV flashing in their eyes...holding their hands over their hearts... singing their allegiance to this country. Yes, I miss this about childhood. As quickly as this “almost reverent” moment came, it would fade into “Our Gang.” Spanky, Alfalfa, and Butwheat would begin to entertain me and my thoughts were on to other things. Back when it was understood how long an attention span actually was. My Saturday mornings were filled with my favorite cartoons like “The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show,” “Scooby Doo,” “The Super Friends,” “Hong Kong Fuey,” and “Space Ghost.” (Okay, maybe Space Ghost wasn’t my favorite... but it came on and I didn’t have a choice... it was that or Care bears or Muhammad Ali...or something.) I liked "Thundar the Barbarian" as well. And whether we understood this at the time or not, cartoons taught us that the good guys always win and the bad guys always lose. And while we don’t always believe this as adults and cynicism reigns as truth... the cartoons were right. In the end, the good guys will win. But remember when all we had were 3 channels? ABC, NBC, and CBS... and ALL of them played cartoons? From 6 am to 12 pm the air waves belonged to us... no news, no “gardening shows” nothing... just cartoons. I miss Saturday Mornings. They were great.

Of course my memories don't end here; there were other things that were great when I was a kid. The JC Penny Catalog was just one of these great things. The hours I spent looking through the toy section... circling what I wanted for Christmas... planning out my wish list was hard work. This was a time where kids knew what anticipation was. Dreaming for months on end about a toy for which they had to wait. It was a time where parents did the best they could and kids didn’t have everything. It was the beginning of prosperity... not a time of prosperity. Restraint was shown. ...I miss games of “Kiss and Kill” in the first grade... back when little girls “loved” little boys and little boys "showed" enmity (but secretly loved the girls and the attention.) I miss being the same height as everyone else. Back when I could look a bully in the eye and tell him to to give her hat back to her... (I don’t miss getting sent to the principals office for making his nose bleed.) I miss thinking that Mom and Dad were going to live forever, I miss the feeling that 40 was “old”. I miss interpreting the passing of time however you wanted... it could be two hours or TWO HOURS depending on how you looked at it and what was waiting for you. I miss my mom’s back scratches and her comforting when I thought the house was going to burn down in the middle of the night after fire prevention week. (BUT, we had an escape plan written down on paper in case it ever happened.) I miss my dad calling me his “little varmit.” I miss... well I could go on and on... but it’s safe to say that I miss being a kid and the innocence that comes with it. Remember? Sure you do...

Thanks for the memories Crazy4aCop.

Update: (Paragraph spacing was added for Eddie's readability.)

OKAY! ... I admit it.

My name is Ben... and I pick my nose. Or so I have been told... (Read her discription under my link... and no I am not mad Amanda Sue... I realize that it is in jest... I think... lol.)

Face it everyone... there are somethings that we all deny at times, especially when we are around friends or strangers alike, but the truth is something that we only know. The question is: will you admit the truth when it is easier to lie? Do you pick your nose or don't you? Somehow, in our culture, it is offensive to pick that "crusty" little booger out of your nose when a regular tissue won't do the trick. (This actually brings me back to a memory in fourth grade... I was standing in line and I was, again, picking my nose and my friend Tim Bachmann said, "Are you digging for gold?" At the time, my response was of a typical fourth grade intelligence, "NOOoo.") Now? My response would be... " Yes... and more than likely, you do it on a regular basis as well."

That said, ever since that ostricizing moment, I have understood that it is not polite to pick your nose in public. So, when I am in the car, picking my nose... I look around to make sure that there are no other cars beside me... watching me pick my nose... when I am driving on a 2 lane road... I make sure the on-coming traffic is passed me before I pick my nose. But my question to people is this... is the act of picking your nose offensive... or is it the act of picking your nose and eating it that is what really bothers people? Of course, there are many sayings out there that make light of the whole ordeal... such as...

"You can pick nose, you can pick your friends... but you can't pick your friend's nose." Or "Some people think it's candy but it's not."

Regardless... of the saying, regardless of what people think... people pick their noses. Of course many people reading this post right now are feigning that they are insulted.: "How dare you insinuate that I pick my nose??" Well folks, the facts are in:

"Nose picking appears to be a habit that, although it usually begins in childhood, may actually linger into adulthood. If you find that hard to believe, consider that a 1995 study of adults found that 91% picked their noses on a regular basis - and about 8% of those people reported that they eat what they pick!" (of course my immediate thought is, how many of those 83% that pick their nose were lying about eating it...)

The point is this: Stand up... be proud of the fact that you pick your nose. Okay... maybe don't stand up... but at least admit it. It is fact that 91% pick their noses. Tell me you're not one of them?

As for me, I am a reformed nose picker... from this day on, I will no longer pick my nose... (unless I have a really big crusty one stuck way in the back.)

Just so you all know...I fart too.

Hrumph.

I have noticed a horrible, horrible trend lately...

Bloggers.are.becoming.lazy.

Bloggers who are too lazy to leave comments... a failure to maintain their blogs... 9 returning visitors on my blog today... but not one comment. I will even take one of those, "Ben, this is the worst post I have ever read..." But nope... Some say that they refuse to make pity comments, but I think this is just a lame attempt at trying to rationalize their laziness. More and more, I visit blogs and they are not being updated. No reason given... just a lack of an update. I mentioned to people that I would be on a Hiatus... but even then, I have attempted to make sure that people are entertained... I am not impressed. This trend has caused me much concern and aguish. Bloggers, what is your deal? Are you too self absorbed that you no longer find the need to write about your self absorption? Well I, for one, will not stand for it. I'm calling you out. Get your "calamine lotioned butt in gear" and comment... (Jes, this is a figure of speech directed at all bloggers in general... although your calamine lotioned butt hasn't commented yet either.)

Building Memories.

Camping was on the agenda this weekend... and let me tell you, there is nothing better than spending Father's Day weekend with the family camping until our hearts were content. Sydney went down with the kids on Thursday afternoon... because of work and school, I couldn't join them until Friday evening. The plan was to stay until Saturday morning and then leave... but on Saturday morning, Sydney asked me if I was all camped out and I said, "I felt like I just got here..." So, we decided to stay another day. Saturday was spent going down the water slide at the pool acrossed the street from the campground... there was not a moment of down time; pushing kids on the swings and playing tag occurred every 5 minutes, from a dad's perspective, and what seemed like every TWO HOURS, from a little kid's perspective. Hot dogs were cooked, balls were tossed, brats were scarfed down, croquet was played, trail mix was eaten, campfires were enjoyed, S'mores were made, and lightening bugs were spotted... Around 9 pm, when the kids crawled into their sleeping bags, it took no longer than 2 minute (tops) for them to fall asleep. It's amazing how a little fresh air will wear you out. We got back home on Sunday afternoon and I cleaned the garage as I packed the camping equipment away... I then spent the afternoon, trimming and mowing the lawn. At about 6 o'clock, I finally finished and Jake and I jumped on the trampoline with the sprinkler going underneath it. As I was finishing mowing the acreage in back, Jake came out and asked when I was going to be done mowing... and I said, "in about an hour bud." He immediately said, "I will wait here (on this cement slab) until you get done." And he sat down and for the next hour watched his dad finish going around in circles on the lawn mower. As I was mowing, and I saw him sitting there with longing eyes... it became apparent to me how much this little boy loves his dad. At that moment, I said a quick prayer thanking the Lord for giving me Jake. The importance of spending time together was never more clear than at that moment. It really was a great Father's Day weekend.

Day's beginning to looking up.

I'm a crab today. It's sunny and 80 degrees outside. I do have a window in my new office though. So, I won't complain too loudly. Also, I just opened my fruit salad in my lunch and there are marshmallows in it... so the day just started to look better. (That, and I just thought about Jes who loves marshmallows... how can that NOT bring a smile to your face.)

Where's Joseph when you need him?

I woke up in a cold sweat this morning. Have you ever had a dream that seems so real that when you wake up, you expect your dream to be reality. Last night I got married. But you say, "Um... Ben? YOU ARE MARRIED." To which my response is yes... but last night I got married to a different woman. Sydney was not in the picture. Now the woman I married in my dreams was the exact opposite of Sydney in terms of physical apperance. Dark skin, Dark brown eyes, Dark brown hair... although she was both short like Sydney and beautiful like Sydney. (Gotta get that statement in there... lol.) Anyway, the thing about this woman is that she had the choice of marrying two guys... me and some other guy. (BTW I have no idea who these people were... sometimes you dream about people and you know exactly who they are... but I have never seen these people before.) Anyway, after this "mysterious woman" and I got married, she was melancholy... nervous... like she had made a mistake or something. So of course I was all insecure and nervous that this beautiful woman didn't love me... even though it was only days after the wedding. Talk about a horrible feeling... anyway, I woke up to find My Sydney, the woman who loves me... laying right beside me and I can't describe the relief I felt... I have never seen a more welcome sight in my life.

So, dream weavers... interpret my dream. What does it mean? All I know is that I hate dreams like that... and I am glad it was just a dream.

Marketing Jingles... "they just don't make them like they used too"

I was thinking about marketing jingles on my way to work this morning... (comercials in general really.) It's funny how other people's blogs get you thinking about things. Amanda Sue of Upheaval got me thinking about this with her post "fools like us" because, of course, I also am a sucker for advertising.

Do you recall the jingles of the olden days?

"Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun."

or

"Big Mac, fillet-a-fish, quarter pounder, frenchfries.
Icey coke, thich shakes, sundays and apple pie."

Marketing people, we want discriptions. Imagery. Make us want to buy it. Sing me a song about your product so I can hum the tune in the car on the way to work. Impregnate your product so deep in my mind that it drives me crazy. Twenty years later, I want to recall your jingle with a nostalgic perspective.

"I'd like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company... It's the reealll thiiiing baaaby."

Currently I can't think of one jingle or comercial that really sticks in my mind... accept for one: remember that volkswagen jetta comercial a few years back that everything was happening to the same beat? "Don, don, don. Don, don, don..." Everytime that comercial came on... it made me what to go to the refridgerator and get a coke just so, I too, could do things in the same syncopated rhythm. Sydney would always laugh at me... but I cared less, because I was enjoying life and it was all because of a comercial... (at that moment anyway.) Pure genius in terms of marketing. There is truth to the saying, "they just don't make them like they used too."

Listen to me... At age 32, I am like that old man rocking on the porch saying, "Back in my day..." (raspy voice and all.)

Someone back me up on this one.

Just call me Ren McCormick...

Ren McCormick... Kevin Bacon.... Footloose? AAAhhhhhh.... The light bulb in your head goes on... And suddenly it's 1984 and you are listening to Quiet Riot and Kenny Loggins.

Anyway, last weekend we had a big storm blow through and it knocked down a relatively large branch... So large that when I took down what was left hanging to the tree... The mound of branches was larger than a pile of snow, on which, one would play king of the hill... (for you Texans who have never had the opportunity to play king of the hill because of the lack of snow in your vicinity, this is a game where you shove people off the hill trying to remain on top. So you can relate... In the world of blogs... Eddie is "King of the Hill." ... at least in Texas anyways.) Back to my point, moving this mountain of branches was no easy task. To accomplish this task, I employed the services of "Big Red." Now if you have ever seen the movie footloose, there was a scene where they were on the back forty on the edge of a drainage ditch with a showdown between Ren and Chuck Crantson. (If you will recall, they were playing "Chicken" with a couple of tractors.) Well, the tractor I was driving this weekend was EXACTLY like the one Ren was driving. I think I even heard the song "I need a Hero" start playing somewhere in the back ground as I fired this bad boy up and moved the bucket up and down.

I need a HERO...
I'm holding out for hero in the morning light...
and he's gotta be strong
and he's gotta be fast
and he's gotta be fresh from the fight...

AS I WAS speeding along... the shoe lace on my sandals got wrapped around the clutch... and I couldn't stop... and I was about to crash... into a speeding car... I tried to jump... but each time I did... I kept falling back into my seat... Fortunately, the car swerved and flipped into the ditch... and then I celebrated on top of the tractor as my girlfriend chased after me...

Okay... I don't have shoe laces on my sandals... I wasn't about to crash into a speeding car... I didn't try and jump from the tractor... My girlfriend was gone for the weekend... and there was no celebration. In all reality, I was a big wimp and because it was the first time I had driven this tractor... I was pretty cautious. BUT I did stand on the tractor as I was driving and I did envision myself as Ren and I did sing the song "Hero" as I lived wildly, if not for just a moment. In short, none of the aforementioned happened... But let's be honest folks: I AM that Hero.

*So.... You gotta cut loose, footloose... kick of your Sunday shoes... please Marie... shake it shake it for me...*

It's 12:30 and...

I'm STARVING. Unfortuantely, I forgot to bring a lunch and I have no money. I have resorted to eating the lifesavers in the jar on my desk to tied me over. I wonder if this is close to eating a balanced diet? I will let you know what lifesaver tastes the best in a bit.

"Calling Dr. Ben... Calling Dr. Ben. Please report to the Dining Room Immediately..."

So approximately 32 minutes after Sydney left for a "get away weekend" (while leaving the kids under my supervision) and about 5 minutes after I finished feeding the kids, we ran into our first catastrophe. Prompted by a blood curdling scream, I rushed into the dining room to find Leah (1 & 1/2 years old) standing on a chair screaming. At this point, I am thinking, hmmm... did she pinch her finger... is she stuck...WHAT? Then I see her cram her finger up her nose... which leads me to pull her finger out of her nose and look... sure enough: A bead. So as I hold onto her, I go to the kitchen preparing myself for surgery. Then I think: "Toothpicks... that'll do it." As I was lying her on the living room floor... ready to perform an emergency "beadectomy," the bead worked its way out on its own. Fortunate little girl. Ol' Doc. Ben WOULD have taken care of you... Might have had to amputate something... with a tooth pick... but I would have taken care of you.

6 hours down... rest of the weekend to go. I am a good Dad... really I am... Aren't I?

Bzzzzoooop. click...

Power was out. The storm was raging and the 5 of us were huddled in corner of the basement... praying that we would be spared. As the flash of the lightning invaded our dark, damp, dank basement... all I could see were 4 pairs of wide eyes nervously looking at me.... each of them wondering: would we ever see the light of another day? SUDDENLY, ripping of wood and the crashing glass overcame the sound of the howling wind as the house was being lifted off the foundation. I knew we were in trouble.

Well okay... maybe I am getting carried away... and maybe it wasn't THAT bad. But there WERE severe storms and we were down in the basement. But fortunately for our family, I finished one corner of the basement off... so it is cozy and the kids were sleeping peacefully on the couch. But the storms have been raging and it has been a wild couple of nights. We have a huge portion of a tree down and so I need to remove this... fortunately for Jake and Micker Mackers... it missed their trampolene by inches.

You know what I miss the most living out in the country? Tornado sirens.

So, for those of you living in tornado alley... do you have a basement?

*** ...and it's not: Bzoop... It is said really slo-w-l-y as you drop an octave from start to finish... "BZZZZZOooooppp" (That's the sound of the power going off... the click was the answering machine. When the power comes back on it is... bzzzzzooOOOP... click click click.... Hummmmm... with the stereo and TV coming on again...) Does it sound like that at your place when the power goes off? Or does it just sound that way at ours?)

REMINDER

It seems like one of my closest readers *ahem... EDDIE* ...did not take me seriously when I said: Be.Forewarned.

I need to ask this question: Which part of 6 Week Blogging Hiatus... did you not understand?
"6 Weeks?" or "Hiatus?"

To clarify...

"6 Weeks" - The length of time I will be on leave (although I will post intermitently)
"Hiatus" - Break... will not be around... short leave of absence...

Threatening me with "not coming back" or stating that I "will be forgotten like a movie soundtrack" will not make my return happen more quickly.

This class is INTENSE people. Feel sorry for me. Trust me when I tell you that I would rather be blogging. 4 & 1/2 weeks left... and counting.

The Management.

Short Post...

Photos are updated!

If we are all being truthful...

We all have addictions.

I am like that old, homeless man. Skin weathered by the sun; tattered, tan, corduroy sport coat, covered with stains from the alleys in which I have slept. Worn jeans, frayed at the bottom. White canvas tennis shoes picked up at a garage sale for 10 cents. A half size too small, but sufficient none-the-less. The stubble on my face is speckled with white and my hair wisps in whatever direction the wind blows. Oblivious to the rest of the world, my sole purpose in life is to shuffle my feet along the sidewalk, pushing my rusty old shopping cart (squeaky wheel and all) from trash can to trash can, dumpster to dumpster, searching for that one thing that feeds my addiction. Boones Apple Wine, Strawberry Schnapps, Jack... it matters not. When I find it... the empty bottle brings such joy and anticipation to my heart... as my hand unsteadily, but with the precision of a surgeon, raises the bottle to my mouth. I press the opening of the bottle flat on my tongue and I slap the bottom of the bottle with vigor as I beg... plead for that last drop to travel quickly down the neck of the bottle to touch my tongue and envelope my taste buds. Yes my friends I am an addict. And like all other addicts, I love my addiction.

My name is Ben, and I am addicted to my snooze button.

Every morning, I reach out and slap the button that I love with every part of my being... as I eagerly soak up nine more minutes of bliss. I feed my addiction purposely. Every evening I make sure that I set my alarm for 5:30 am... and every morning when that rhythmic beeping breaks the silence of the morning... I do not experience the dread that most people do, but I greet this sound with excitement and enthusiasm knowing that I have (at least) nine more minutes of sleep. It is like I am at the gates of heaven with the anticipation of what is to come...

I love the man or woman who invented the snooze button. My favorite number is nine. I don’t know why this is my favorite number. It’s certainly not because the snooze length is nine minutes. I only made this correlation between my favorite number and the nine wonderful minutes of extra sleep each time I press that beautiful button just recently. But for some reason, whoever created the snooze button chose nine minutes. Mere coincidence I think not; I truly believe it was Divine Providence. One thing is for sure; the fact that the snooze length is nine minutes makes me love my snooze button all the more.

Now pressing the button one time each morning does not an addiction make. I am both ashamed and proud to admit that on average I press the button no less than 8 times. 5:30... 5:39... 5:48... 5:57... 6:06...6:15...6:24... 6:33...6:42... What about Sydney you ask? She is the best. She has never commented on my addiction in an adversarial way. Through her deep sleep in the morning she encourages me to feed my addiction, knowing that she does not hear it. Ahhh... the joy of a woman so perfect, who sleeps so soundly in the morning, that I can revel, guilt free, in my addiction each morning. I do realize that it will ruin me someday... However, I simply.just.don’t.care. Fired from work because I hit the snooze button one too many times? It’s worth the risk. Forget the nine step recovery system, I don’t want it. I would be admitted to the rehab clinic too many times to count. This addiction has such a bond over me that I can not fathom what it would take to break these chains.

In short, I will not give up this addiction I love so much.

I can’t wait until tomorrow morning when I can feed my addiction again.

6 Week Blogging Hiatus... starting: NOW.

I am back! But unfortunately... just briefly. What I am about to say is going to upset some of my closest readers... but it must be said. I will be posting in a very sporadic fashion over the next 6 weeks. (And I use the term "sporadic" in a liberal way.) This online Managerial Accounting class is going to keep me busy about 4 hours a day... which completely bites, but will be worth it when I am done in six weeks. So...

Be.Forewarned.

I will do my best to post a couple of times a week; however, my comments on other people's sites will diminish almost completely. Of course you all know that it is not, and I repeat, NOT because I don't love you... I am just busy. And you're right. It bites... but I will be back and you will all love me all the more because of the saying that "abscence makes the heart grow fonder."

Later all!