Lego of my Lego

I'm not sure why, but I have received word from Estaban that the toy company called Lego wants to and has created an "Estaban" charactor. They have taken some artistic license with the wardrobe but all in all Estaban is quite happy with the look. I have been assured that the Paco line is soon to follow, provided the sales of the "Estaban" line is a big seller. Here is what he looks like.

A Parable

I thought I would share a parable and in doing so I thought I would spice it up with a photo of the author so I did a web search for Douglas Wilson, since this is the man who said these words. While searching I found this guy


This is Wilson Douglas and not the man who I remember seeing in Monroe just last year. I don't remember seeing that button. Therefore, I kept searching and landed upon this man next




This man is actually Douglas Wilson, but the man who I am quoting has more facial hair, and to my knowledge does not play the trumpet. Finally, after much searching I found this lovely, the man who actally made the quote later to be . . . quoted.






Douglas Wilson creates little parables before the call for his congregation on each Sunday. I have been blessed with the opportunity to listen to most of these sermons. His parables are generally fantastic and this one is no exception, and to be honest made me laugh out loud when I heard it. I thought that the laughter creating dialouge could not go on living in a bag in my truck so I have typed it out and put it on my page. I’m sure portions of it will make onto his blog at sometime, but until then I will do this much. To the best of my ability it is word for word what he said at the pulpit, yet without the back laughter from the congregation. Enjoy, like I did.

Wilson’s parable on “Courtship”

Once there was a young woman who came home from church one day and she had a question for her father.

“Dad,” she said, “you know how Cindy’s father gave John permission for him to court her?”

“Yes,” he said, “I heard about that one, which in my mind, was the first sign of trouble. Why would I know about that?”

“Well I was standing with Cindy after church and three of the older church ladies came up and effusively congratulated her. Cindy was really embarrassed, I could tell, but I couldn’t tell what was wrong with it. They were all really sweet.”

“So you’re asking what the problem was if there was one?”

“Right.”

“Well I suppose John has been getting himself congratulated too?”

“Oh yes, even more.”

“Suppose John came up to me and said that he had mailed off his application to Harvard Law School, would I respond with ‘congratulations’?”

“Well, no because he didn’t get in yet, and just between us he wouldn’t get in either.”

“And if he filed the papers in city hall to enter the race for mayor?”

“Well the same, he just filed he didn’t win anything.”

“So it is with this. Courtship, rightly understood, is an application and congratulations are not in order. The people involved are deciding what they are going to do but nobody has done anything yet.”

“Thanks Dad that makes sense.”

“But then there is another thing. Then there are those courting couples, who are for all intense and purposes are engaged, they are emotionally entangled and committed and when standing around after church she is all over him like ivy on the garden wall. You can congratulate people like that all you want. Somebody is getting something and so that somebody should be congratulated. Couples like that can’t have it both ways, the social protection of not having decided and the emotional comfort of having decided.”

The Joy of Sweating

The title may be a bit of a surprise but there is a strange comfort and joy in being able to sweat. Now, lets not get carried away here. This statement in no way means that I desire to do all the yard work for those in my church come summer time, however it does mean that sweating is good. I could bore you with all the scientific details of vasodilatation and heat exchange but that isn’t the purpose of this post. When I was in Antarctica I became acutely aware that I was unable to sweat. This was partly due to the extremely cold environment, which prevented me from rarely attaining the temperature at which point I began to excrete moisture, and that same environment was extremely dry which if I was able to sweat it nearly always evaporated before I was fully cognizant of this exchange of energy. Oh, I also did everything I could not to sweat as this only influenced the dreaded hypothermia exponentially.

At some point in my first season at McMurdo Station I realized that I couldn’t sweat. I worked out with minimal success. Worked hard while on the ice with moderate success, but not comfortable. I ran which did attain the desired sweat but also rapidly froze to the inside of my shirt and made the rest of the journey home not only uncomfortably chaffing but also dangerously hypothermic. I related my plight to one of my colleagues who had spent a few seasons on the ice and she informed me of a little cave located under some stairs. This cave would soon become my little haven from the frozen temperatures of this beautiful island.

The door to the cave was only 3-4 feet tall and the cave was normally called “Odie’s office” for a gentleman who was nicknamed Odie. This man was of a uniquely short stature and vaguely resembled the lovable cartoon character (if you had somehow managed to get a poppy seed derivative into your system). Once the door was opened there was the experience of stepping into an oven. The heat from this small little space hit you like the force of an overly aggressive two year old meeting an abandoned popsicle cart. It made you double over and drop to your knees like a bad frat party or some tainted Taco Bell. (The doubling over and knee dropping in this case is a good thing as the one performing the action is getting in an appropriate position for thanking God. The examples express more of a picture of someone preparing to meet Him).

This labyrinth that contained this powerful elixir was actually quite small. It was after all the space under some stairs, and really not that many stairs. To the left of the entryway were two stairs built so as to hold a seated person while they sweat profusely. I guess two people could in fact sit there but then you would be touching either the person directly or invading their personal space which when little clothing is worn is quite uncomfortable for any length of time. To the right of the entryway was the sun-mimicking heat source. Since McMurdo is a volcanic island there were some very appropriately placed lava rocks stacked upon the heat source.

The room itself was not tall enough for even me to stand up in but that did not matter, neither did it matter that the switch for the light was placed outside the “office”. The light switch was oddly placed in the middle of the wall of a rather large room used as an educational room. Those who hadn’t been there long generally did not know what that particular light switch operated and this is compounded when they never see the effect it produces. This made it interesting to be in the heat box when the new guy is trying to see what “this switch does”.

Interestingly enough, “Odie’s office” is located in a meeting room, which was infrequently used frequently. I never really knew when a meeting would be called in this room and not too many people wondered why there was a stack of clothes in the back of the room. I sat through several meetings that I was never invited to, nor known to be there. I once lost 20 lbs of water weight just from being in a meeting that “went long”.

To not be able to sweat is really a sad experience to have, but to not experience the odorific product of sweat was a pleasure. Now, some may say, “Hey, it’s wintertime and I don’t sweat I don’t understand what the big deal is.”. First, I would say, “Don’t end a sentence with a preposition.” Second, I would completely agree with that person, the time of the season is winter and they don’t understand. It’s like Phoenix Arizona in June as far as dryness is concerned and like Antarctica as far as temperature is concerned. It is vastly different than what most people have experienced and therefore can be hard to understand. The skin is rather dry and enclosed in this environment, but to get into Odie’s office, sit on wooden stairs that have had countless butts attached to it, and have every pore on your skin open up and expel its contents onto that wood makes you feel uniquely attached to hundreds of other butts who planted themselves in that little room to experience the true joy of sweating. In all truth I actually wore shorts and immediately washed off the unique connection to hundreds of other butts. There were just some things of McMurdo that I didn’t need to bring home.

That little place was just fantastic, it made myself, and many others, a new person—skin exercised and ready to meet the dry, bitter elements of an unforgiving climate. But, sadly, as when the bean counters and paper pushers realize that there is something that the underlings have that makes them happy they must either control it or take it away. And the later is what I have heard has happened to Odie’s office. They didn’t remove the stairs that created the little room but they did remove the portable sun. More than likely it has not left the island, but sits comfortably in building 125 or 137 (probably 137 it does have the nicer view) so the VIP’s can have their own little sauna when they stay there for a week.

confirmation of inspiration

While posting my last thoughts I thought I could do a google search to find some photos of theatres to attach to it. While doing that I stumbled upon others who were inspired in much the same I was. Here are some of their photos. Here you have quadriplegics fishing, rock climbing, hiking, and playing rugby. Boy, who would have thought they even wanted to do these things? More dream-maker-come-truers . . . that's just great.

“STRINGS ATTACHED”

“STRINGS ATTACHED” the Quadriplegic theatre

I have been inspired. Brought by random thoughts to a distant land where my hopes and dreams have been rekindled, renewed and possibly realized. When I think, I sometimes think of others, and when I think of others I think of making dreams come true. I think of being a dream-maker-come-truer. Some of these dreams that come to my mind I realize that there may be a need for a “come trueance”, and I think these thoughts are the type that most others don’t think of. For instance, I think people without arms really want to play the classic playground game of Red Rover. I think that if I could properly design some fake arms to attach to the amputees that I could then attach them at the hands and then those people, who otherwise would be unable to play this wonderful game of strength and endurance would be able to be included. They would no longer only be relegated to playing hacky-sack.

The dream I am currently thinking of involves the theatre. Acting and possibly some over-acting. I remember watching the television show Facts of Life and there was one character on there that had cerebral palsy, and then there was another show called something else that had a kid on there that was mentally handicapped (you know that show with Corky). These producers were going out there with the same vision as me; they wanted to be dream-maker-come-truers too. Yet, there is another untapped resource of actors dying to act . . . I’m sure of it. What about the plegics?! Bi and quadriplegics.

Here are people who, much like the late Superman, want to act, and not just act on those new computer generated “claymation” creations. I think they want their bodies to be on film as well. That way they can show their facial expressions also. Really, you want that on film anyway. That is just some choice acting that is being lost . . . daily.

I can’t tell you exactly how my brain works, but I’m remembering a conversation with someone who mentioned cabbage and then as they were talking about something else, such as space travel or the hanging of Saddam I’m not sure, I began to imagine that there were a colony of marionette puppets running along side the truck we were traveling in. Then that thought immediately went to the stage and I thought . . . hey, we can just attach some strings to their limbs. And, presto the dream was created. These people who desire to act but have lost the ability to use their legs or both arms and legs can now be used on the stage and possibly on the big screen.

These marionette puppeteers can’t be making too much money and they can’t possibly be that busy to make it a full-time job, besides how many children’s birthdays can you do and make a living of it? Therefore, I will be fulfilling two dreams. Now that is a rare occurrence. When you not only are a dream-maker-come-truer but you are able to kill two birds with one stone. (Not that I have ever killed a bird with a stone, nor known anyone who has. A stick now that is possible, but I’ve never seen a stone). Here we have a double need. Marionette puppeteers desire to be puppeteers and they have a limited ability to do this and not eat most of their meals with the homeless in soup kitchens, and there is also the ever present need for these handicapped soon-to-be actors.

I’m thinking that we could get some heavy duty fishing line and with a few simple knots tied by some boyscouts who aren’t doing anything with all that knot knowledge and bam dreams are coming true. What used to lay limp and lifeless would now display all the life of real people with limbs that are able to move with less assistance. It is really like a resurrection of sorts and I’m sure people more adept at symbology could find more symbolism than I in this simple use of resources.

After all, marionette puppets are fun to watch, but they lack expression. This new and improved theatre would merge the excitement and allure of the puppets with real human expression and life. Not to mention the fact of the acting talent that has as of yet been untapped. I mean when we saw the television show “Bosom Buddies” did we really think that Tom Hanks would be as highly regarded on the big screen as he apparently is? Who knew that guys in wheel chairs wanted to play, and apparently were playing, rugby? They made a movie of it to show their desire to the movie-watching world. I don’t remember the name of the movie but if you are reading this then I’m sure you can do some sort of google search for it. Even if you think this is a dumb idea and you think that, “Shirley these people don’t want to act”, ask yourself, if you were in the 1960’s would you have thought that African-American’s really wanted to ride in the front of the bus? I think that answer is easy and if the former is easy than the later should be as well.

If you agree with this then run with it. I am just a planter and not a harvester, or even a waterer for that matter. Although, I could be a really poor waterer if one would let me near the faucet. Therefore, make it happen and I will pat you on the back and say with a large grin and a unique twinkle in my eye, “Man you did it and I didn’t even have to get you wet.”

Unhealthy women

I posted this critique of modern culture about a year ago and was quickly informed that it was slightly embarrassing or inappropriate. I have consulted others and to my delight it has received approval so I now post it to share this unique thought about life on a University campus.

Women are unhealthy. I do not say this with a great deal of bravado but with trepidation as this is just a theory that I’m currently working on, and it is in every way still a work in progress. With that said I still think women are unhealthy, and more likely they are just vitamin/mineral deficient. Now before anyone skip to the comments section and begin to open the dikes of hate let me explain.

These thoughts began when I became more aware of my surroundings and in so doing I noticed that more and more people had wedgies that they were more than willing to correct in front of the public. I thought it was funny because I began to recall my days in Elementary school and Junior High. Oh, those were some funny wedgie filled days. But then I noticed that these wedgies were not generated by some thirteen year old but were spontaneous and seemingly self-inflicted. It was as if the body itself did the wedgie. Now this was not some situation where the right hand doesn’t know what the left hand is doing because there were no hands involved. It seemed to be purely the result of non-appendages doing the Jr. High work. Also, these wedgie afflicted people were predominately women. So this got me to thinking and with thinking it got me to theorizing so I’ve combined two separate but maybe related observations. One being the wedgies and the other being the incredible shrinking clothing phenomenon.

I go to a university for a particular education but just walking around you get an offshoot education that you don’t really have much control over and I’m thinking of asking for some extra elective credits from the university, but that’s unrelated to this post. While going to school and working in the Emergency Medical System I’ve noticed that women are becoming increasingly less clothed, and in conjunction with the above paragraph, wedgies are on the rise (no pun intended. . . well maybe a little one). I think the women are sincerely trying to cover everything but either they don’t know how to dry their clothes properly, buy clothes that are too small, or there is a more underlying problem.

I have heard of people eating dirt (an eating disorder called Pica [not the same as the type set]) because they have a mineral deficiency that they are unwittingly trying to solve. I’ve also seen dogs eat sheet rock because of the calcium that it contains, and cows and horses are given a salt or mineral block that they will lick whenever their bodies tell them that they need some more sodium or when there is a mineral that they are growing short of. So with this thought I think women have a mineral deficiency that they are unknowingly trying to solve by slowly absorbing their clothing. I don’t know what mineral or vitamin they are low in nor do I know how the body knows that these particular clothes hold the beneficial ingredient but apparently it is something or why else would they be losing so much clothing.

I know this woman who will constantly complain of being cold, and she has a shirt and sweater on. However, both of these articles of clothing have grown short around the bottoms. So much so that skin will show when she moves about. With this amount of skin showing cold drafts will slip in and cause her to be cold. Yet somehow the obvious solution of covering the skin is lost on this person. She isn’t a dumb person. Actually quite the opposite, but I believe that her clothes are shrinking at a slow rate and she is unaware of this event happening. Kinda like the frog who is slowly cooked.

This phenomena is just alarming because it is as if she is a human dryer and she isn’t alone. Most of the women around campus have the same problem. However, the same problem does not afflict the men. They are completely covered. Their problem is in the reverse direction. The men are covered to such an extent that it appears that they are wearing someone else's clothes. Particularly someone who is significantly larger than they are and who apparently likes rap music. To be fair I have only noticed this on a very narrow range of people. This mineral deficiency phenomena seems to only affect young women and I think it may be more drastic on the coasts of our nation.

I am unwilling to chalk it up to just fashion because as we are painfully aware the ‘60’s style clothing has made a come back and the ‘70’s are on their way. Those decades had some horrible fashion trends but the women were for the most part covered. They may have been tightly covered but none the less they didn’t have the constantly shrinking clothing that our modern women seem to have. Maybe the clothing is made of a different fabric . . . maybe. But I think the modern diet is much more different than the diet of the 60’s and 70’s.

Think about it, the microwaveable meal came out in the 50’s to 60’s. And since this time more and more artificial food has been produced and consumed. I think there maybe a saturation effect going on here. We eat fake foods that lack some essential vitamins and minerals and the fields that real foods are produced on are leached of all kinds of essential minerals and vitamins. Those foods that give us all types of vitamins (like milk) we kill and then “fortify” them with vitamins they already had but leave out all those minerals that help us absorb all those vitamins.

So the next time you see a woman that seems like she is wearing her kid sisters clothes you mustn't think that she is just being immodest but rather that she may actually have a medical condition that is as of yet undiagnosed. Go to her. Nay, run to her and shout, “What is wrong with you?! Don’t you see that your body is devouring your own clothing. That is why you are cold. That is why you are constantly pulling down your shirt that doesn’t cover your belly. That is why you are uncomfortable. That is why everyone is starring at you. They are all wondering when you will go to the doctor and get yourself checked out!!!”

Maybe the problem can be solved with just some cotton balls. Maybe if we just give the women who have this problem some cotton to put in their mouths that all this will go away. But then people may wonder why we have so many people who look like they have had their wisdom teeth removed.

Or maybe the answer is in growing your own food. I’ve noticed that the women who live in households that grow their own foods do not have this symptom that I’ve been describing.