tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-304488252024-03-19T04:40:43.843-05:00Scorpion Stalking DuckRandom Thoughts of a Catholic Husband, Father, Physician, Licensed Commercial Septic System Operator, Driving Instructor, Tractor Mechanic, Gardener, Deliverer of All Foods Carry-out, Amateur Book Reviewer, Neo-Texan, Novice Chicken Rancher, Beekeeper, and Writer of Really, Really Bad Poetry. I try to live up to Chesterton's observation that 'a thing worth doing is worth doing badly.'dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.comBlogger923125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-59383054121487575072023-03-05T20:20:00.000-06:002023-03-05T20:20:07.140-06:00Lent 2023<p> A scorpion came to visit us during a thunderstorm.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtXZTtT_6JPGDduB0dq_QPB5R5HGbYlBnmJP1GmVwXAddK1kEn4PcOGWa1v_Wm-UPpnZd9HXw8M_8bdr7o_2aaMA909UfMhMz3ePARpTiHQtA00ko5jbF-wFrr3KXrkaKyayGacYF_W2MjTo9pmXVsRhxs5_GOG58XXJusYUJgOCMyuCmZZw/s1335/EDA0BBAC-679B-4D52-8F26-E66D518811BA.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1335" data-original-width="1087" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtXZTtT_6JPGDduB0dq_QPB5R5HGbYlBnmJP1GmVwXAddK1kEn4PcOGWa1v_Wm-UPpnZd9HXw8M_8bdr7o_2aaMA909UfMhMz3ePARpTiHQtA00ko5jbF-wFrr3KXrkaKyayGacYF_W2MjTo9pmXVsRhxs5_GOG58XXJusYUJgOCMyuCmZZw/s320/EDA0BBAC-679B-4D52-8F26-E66D518811BA.jpeg" width="261" /></a></div><br /><p></p>dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-73683666313210263822020-07-07T14:30:00.002-05:002020-07-07T14:30:37.515-05:00Food for Thought from St. John Bosco <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc6K7RZQ_teqlekL4zo_EPvXBx67gGhyphenhyphenX1tQjtsqxC6aeII6ff-a1m7G2KSMCHc9EFhut1LqPr4HDOerFXNUDWIDbd0DrBvdphXvEseBrRLhEAOYUZI0Pdce-vq2ptQlMaPNMWnQ/s877/stboscoletter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="877" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc6K7RZQ_teqlekL4zo_EPvXBx67gGhyphenhyphenX1tQjtsqxC6aeII6ff-a1m7G2KSMCHc9EFhut1LqPr4HDOerFXNUDWIDbd0DrBvdphXvEseBrRLhEAOYUZI0Pdce-vq2ptQlMaPNMWnQ/s320/stboscoletter.jpg" /></a></div>dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-11108711106020594772020-06-28T21:40:00.002-05:002020-06-28T21:40:44.701-05:00Blessed Charles de Foucauld’s Prayer of Abandonment<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-7SNWAsEnZHbMWzICrxXbhlEtx4fnRJ8Nv8JuBaBBWbS3TQ92vAUY-ydjAn03EF5IF6gUD8roYuOgRE2Tn4-_jWeyH1x3f2P5JCM32s-ghdK79XaF24VTylgC7Xat52Cut35RQ/s1407/2EA40139-0F3B-4B97-ABFA-7A7892AE9686.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1051" data-original-width="1407" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-7SNWAsEnZHbMWzICrxXbhlEtx4fnRJ8Nv8JuBaBBWbS3TQ92vAUY-ydjAn03EF5IF6gUD8roYuOgRE2Tn4-_jWeyH1x3f2P5JCM32s-ghdK79XaF24VTylgC7Xat52Cut35RQ/s320/2EA40139-0F3B-4B97-ABFA-7A7892AE9686.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-24240211929249702292019-09-27T11:05:00.001-05:002019-09-27T11:05:26.215-05:00Saint of the Day: St. Vincent de Paul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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St. Vincent de Paul is the patron of charitable societies. He dedicated his life to service of the poor and to preaching. <br />
This photograph of St. Vincent de Paul is that of a waxen figure of his body. His bones are encased in this figure. Saint Vincent de Paul Chapel, Rue de Sevres, Paris. <br />
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Saint Vincent de Paul, pray for us!<br />
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<a data-title="St. Vincent de Paul Society" href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><img alt="St. Vincent de Paul Society" border="0" class="item_image" data-src="" height="640" src="https://stjosephowatonna.org/files/2015/03/st-vincent005.jpg?w=1060&h=1590&a=t" width="452" /></a><br />
<br />dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-56026776699480898972017-05-10T21:03:00.000-05:002017-05-10T21:03:37.148-05:00Testing, testingIt has been more than a year since I last posted on this blog.....dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-77387902393636745842015-12-16T16:28:00.000-06:002015-12-16T16:28:17.318-06:00Fountain Pen Review: Kaweco StudentI have noticed that most German fountain pen nibs are a bit wider than other nibs. This is important for me, because I prefer extra fine nibs for my writing at home and at work. I encounter all sorts of paper at work; sometimes I think that I am writing on paper towel rather than paper, as I watch my ink feather all over the place. Other times it looks as if I were writing with a brush rather than a pen. With my handwriting, I need all the help I can get. Still, I like the German fountain pens, regardless of the nib.<br />
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Extra fine......it also helps if you pick the proper ink to go with the pen. One of my favorites has got to be Noodler's Bad Belted Kingfisher, which I mistakenly referred to above as 'Big Bad Belted Kingfisher.' <a href="http://noodlersink.com/" target="_blank">Noodler's Ink</a> founder Nathan Tardif has reasons for naming his inks in such a manner; I recommend you check out his website to see the large selection of fountain pens and inks that he has developed.<br />
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So here is the Kaweco Student. It has a hard acrylic body, with chrome plated brass for the grip. The cap screws on but doesn't take forever to come off. In case you forget who made the pen, the folks at Kaweco handily placed it on the clip, on the ring at the base of the cap, and on the tip of the cap. Even the nib has the 'Kaweco' logo on it. The nib is stainless steel with an iridium tip.<br />
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Here is a close-up of the end of the cap, with the letters KA, WE, CO fitting inside the peace sign symbol. Pretty cool:<br />
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Here is the nib, which I inexpertly cleaned off for this photo shoot. You can see the peace sign Kaweco logo on the nib here:<br />
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The pen takes international cartridges, but you can buy a converter emblazoned with the company name - in case you forget whose pen you are using. Those black things which show up in the picture are just some spare earplugs for a stethoscope which were lying around on my desk. <br />
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So how does it write? Great! I like the feel of this fountain pen. It feels solid, but not too heavy for my hand. The nib is smooth, and with the right combination of ink and paper, it produces a nice, thin line. The nib does flex a bit if you push it, as I demonstrated in the bottom left corner of the first picture above. This pen is a dependable worker, with no tweaking necessary to get it to write. I would recommend it to someone looking for a dependable writing instrument. <br />
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Purchased from <a href="http://www.jetpens.com/Kaweco-Student-Fountain-Pen-Extra-Fine-Nib-Black-Body/pd/7499" target="_blank">Jet Pens</a>. Some details for this review were found on this page. <br />
<br />dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-21006655008271048722015-09-20T20:58:00.001-05:002015-09-20T20:58:23.265-05:00New Stuff in My Blog HeaderI added another occupation to my blog description, and a quote from G.K. Chesterton: <br />
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"Random Thoughts of a Catholic Husband, Father, Physician, Licensed Commercial Septic System Operator, Driving Instructor, Tractor Mechanic, Gardener, Deliverer of All Foods Carry-out, Amateur Book Reviewer, Neo-Texan, Novice Chicken Rancher, Beekeeper, and Writer of Really, Really Bad Poetry. I try to live up to Chesterton's observation that 'a thing worth doing is worth doing badly.'"<br />
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<br />dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-60357526080264150112015-08-17T00:44:00.000-05:002015-08-17T00:44:18.791-05:00The 'Bee' Side of Life<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-small;"><em>When I was a child, there were these discs you could buy called 'records,' which contained music. They were played on a device called, oddly enough, a record player. A tiny stylus would run along a groove cut in the vinyl record, and through the miracle of electronics, music would come out of the speakers attached to the record player. Records looked a lot like the CD's we have nowadays, only they were larger, and were usually black. Most would spin around the record player at either thirty three or forty five revolutions per minute(RPM). Full albums were on the 33 RPM records; hit singles would play at 45 RPM. It is the 45's that serve as the inspiration for the title of this blog. You would find the hit song on the main or 'A' side of the disc, while some less noteworthy song would be found on the 'B' side. Now that I am over 50, chances are that I am on past the middle of my life; you might say I am on the 'B' side of my life. But I continue to grow and change. This blog entry describes one of those changes.</em></span></div>
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In May, 2014, I picked up two boxes from a farm East of Dallas. Inside those boxes were approximately 60,000 honeybees, and several frames upon which they had formed honeycomb made of wax. Most of the comb contained honey, but some were filled with pollen, which is the protein source for honeybees. More importantly, some of the honeycomb contained tiny eggs, or growing larvae, indicating that there was a queen in the hive, and that there were more bees on the way. These two boxes were the starter kits for my first two bee hives, and this would be my first experience handling bees. But this adventure didn't start with me purchasing bees from a beekeeper. The story begins several years before, when I first got the notion of raising bees for honey on our property. <br />
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But first I had to convince my wife......<br />
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....more to come on this and other subjects.<br />
dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-5779752305024604192013-11-27T10:17:00.002-06:002013-11-27T10:17:41.510-06:00Fountain Pen Review: Noodler's Ink Ahab PenBefore I talk about the Noodler's Ink fountain pen known as the Ahab, I want to give a shout out to a couple of companies which I discovered recently: The <a href="http://www.gouletpens.com/" target="_blank">Goulet Pen Company</a>, and <a href="http://noodlersink.com/" target="_blank">Noodler's Ink</a>.<br />
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The Goulet Pen Company is run by a young couple; I believe they are both recent graduates from Virginia Tech. Brian and Rachel Goulet are small business owners, and their product and passion are pens. Anyone can sell pens; these folks have made a name for themselves by not only selling fountain pens, inks, and writing material. They have also produced a large number of videos on the practical aspects of writing with fountain pens. I have found them to be informative videos which also showcase their many products. It is nice to be able to watch a video of the pen you want to buy before you put down money for it.<br />
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Here is one of the first videos produced by the Goulet Pen Company. Here Brian Goulet explains why he is starting this video channel:<br />
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This video is two years old; in the interim, their company has expanded, his family has grown, and he has lost a bit of weight. They are living the life of the small business owner; I wish them continued success.<br />
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On to Noodler's Ink. Noodler's Ink makes a huge line of inks which come in a variety of colors. In addition, the inks have different characteristics which you can research on the website. The first ink I ever selected from Noodler's was one which dried fast; I tend to write in haste, and smudging could result if the ink is wet for a while on the page. The ink I bought was called Bernanke Blue, after Ben Bernanke, the former Chairman of the Federal Reserve. As the label says, one needs a quick-drying ink when one is printing so much money.....<br />
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Oh look! It even has his picture on the side of it:<br />
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I like this ink. It dries quickly, and it is a beautiful blue. I can use it at work because all medical records are scanned into the electronic chart in a uniform black color. While I was at it, I bought one of the Noodler's fountain pens. This one is called the Ahab, and it is very reasonably priced. It came with this drawing, which shows Captain Ahab from Melville's book Moby Dick holding a harpoon. It is hard to see with the pen in the way, but this Captain Ahab has a fountain pen rather than a wooden leg for his missing leg.<br />
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By the way, years ago I wrote a review for a book which described the incident that apparently inspired Herman Melville's book, Moby Dick. The book is titled, <u>In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex</u>, by Nathaniel Philbrick. My review can be found <a href="http://scorpionstalkingduck.blogspot.com/2007/05/whale-of-tale-for-you.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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The Ahab is a large fountain pen. It is one of the largest in my collection, and has the potential to hold a lot of ink. There is a simple piston mechanism for drawing up ink shown in the picture below. Note that the nib is missing; at this moment it is on another pen. More on that subject later.</div>
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The nib is present in this picture. It is what is called a flexible nib, meaning that the width of the line can be modified by adjusting the amount of pressure applied to paper while writing. It writes a fine line when pressure is minimal; that is my preference. The nib looks good in stainless steel, and has been working well for more than a year. <br />
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Here is another view of the nib. The color of this pen is blue, but it is translucent so one can see the amount of ink still in the pen. Some pens are made of clear material so the mechanism can be seen; these types of pens are generally known as 'demonstrator' pens.<br />
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Here one can see the variable thickness of lines. I am pressing more than usual at this point.</div>
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When I flipped the paper over I could see where the ink had bled through; this is more a characteristic of the paper than the ink. That knife included in the picture is a little tractor. I had to keep that from my youngest children who wanted to play with it.....</div>
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One of the first times I used the pen was writing something while lying in bed. I fell asleep, and woke to find this ink stain on the bed cover. Oops. Thankfully it washed out.</div>
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So what do I like and dislike about this pen? First off, I like how it writes. It makes a fine line for those who prefer that. It feels good in my hand, but I prefer pens that are a little thinner. Occasionally the ink won't run, but I can get it to flow by just pressing the nib on paper to make the tines of the nib separate a little bit. I can watch the ink start to flow, filling the gap between the tines, and then I am good to go.</div>
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My biggest reservation about this pen is actually one of the things I like about it. This is not a 'beginner's' fountain pen. This pen sometimes requires a bit of tweaking, and Nathan Tardiff, the owner of Noodler's Ink, even encourages people to fiddle around with this pen. As noted in one of the pictures above, I have taken the nib off this pen and placed it in another pen to see if it works (it does). Nathan even has videos on his website where he shows how to modify his pens even further. </div>
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On another occasion, I dropped my Ahab pen off my desk. It landed right on the nib, bending it. At first I thought how I would replace the nib, but then I decided to just bend it back into shape. That sufficed, and I have not had any problem with it since.</div>
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If you like to take apart pens and experiment with them, the Noodler's Ahab pen is for you.</div>
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Here is a writing sample from more than a year ago; note that a good pen does not automatically make for good penmanship:</div>
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Here are three reviews for the Ahab. First is the one from the Goulet Pen Company:</div>
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Next is one from this doctoral student from the Netherlands. He has a lot of good reviews:</div>
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And last, the review of the pen by its designer, Nathan Tardiff:</div>
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dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-23754834990560670152013-07-16T12:52:00.001-05:002013-07-16T21:26:19.279-05:00When the Wheels on the Bus Come Off<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Warning: This is a post about vulgar language. It contains vulgar language.<br />
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Recently an AsianAir Passenger Airliner crashed on landing at San Francisco International Airport, This tragedy was compounded by an additional insult when the NTSB released the names of the pilots of the aircraft. In an incredible demonstration of poor taste, the names were read on the local evening news. If you read them fast enough, you will notice that they begin to sound like something other than their names:<br />
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It was done so subtly (or maybe I am such an airhead) that I did not even realize what it meant until this morning, when I read that the NTSB apologized and blamed it on a Summer intern who released that information. I doubt that. I doubt that such a large agency dealing with such a sensitive issue would allow someone with no authority to contact the local news with such sensitive information. What probably really happened is that some administrator with the NTSB went ahead and released the names as a joke, and now is throwing one unnamed intern under the bus.<br />
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All of this does not surprise me when you consider the Obama administration. Recall that Vice President Joe Biden was overheard saying 'this is a big f-----g deal' to President Obama when he signed the Affordable Care Act (Obamacare) into law:<br />
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That tells a lot about the example set by the head of our country, when he allows such tasteless comments by his subordinates in his presence. He doesn't seem to care that others could possibly hear such inappropriate words. I would guess the the tone at the top has trickled throughout his administration down to the level of the NTSB. Now we see obscenities and vulgar language promulgated on national television at the behest of the administration. I haven't even mentioned the racist angle.<br />
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I base these assumptions on my own experiences as the head of a family. I have learned (to my regret) that any allowance of vulgar language is noticed immediately by my children. These slips may be initiated by me, or when I fail to correct my children at the moment I hear them using any inappropriate language. Either way, it is my example which is followed. The children certainly did not hear vulgar or inappropriate language from their mother; either the world or myself are to blame.<br />
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So I have to work on keeping my language - and that of my children - clean. Unfortunately, it looks as if only the next president can change the tone of the United States government. <br />
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<br />dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-1308034663386764932013-07-06T19:18:00.001-05:002013-07-06T19:18:27.523-05:00Missing a Carrier Pigeon?Is this your pigeon?<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T2f8e_2pmus/Udiz0pGAEVI/AAAAAAAADpo/xB5EB3krMMI/s640/blogger-image-289130582.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T2f8e_2pmus/Udiz0pGAEVI/AAAAAAAADpo/xB5EB3krMMI/s640/blogger-image-289130582.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>This pigeon showed up at our house on Friday. We are providing food and water for it. It has a green band on its right leg and when we try to get close, it flies off very fast. It looks too good to be a city pigeon. </div><div><br></div><div>The chickens don't like it. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-VtAYurOaedM/UdizxgeeG2I/AAAAAAAADpg/RWgc0gj-9iE/s640/blogger-image-529174504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-VtAYurOaedM/UdizxgeeG2I/AAAAAAAADpg/RWgc0gj-9iE/s640/blogger-image-529174504.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Perhaps the owner is googling for a found pigeon. We live south of Dallas, and would like to return this creature to its owner. I think it is a carrier pigeon raised for the sport. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">If this critter looks like yours, leave a comment. </div><br></div>dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-53858609311670334552013-07-05T12:22:00.000-05:002013-07-05T12:22:57.261-05:00The Doctor as Patient<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I recently had a procedure done, which gave me the opportunity to put myself into the role of patient rather than physician. I tried really hard to not let on that I was a doctor, but eventually I let something slip which made one of the nurses realize that I was in the medical field. It was illuminating to be the man on the gurney; I hope it doesn’t have to happen again for a long time.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I arrived at the appointed time, and after filling out some mandatory paperwork, I sat around for a while waiting to be called back. I scheduled my procedure for first thing in the morning so I could reduce the likelihood of delays. Carolyn kept my mind occupied with small talk, and I tried to respond appropriately, but all I could think of was what was to come. As an anesthesiologist, I have seen all sorts of misadventures occur even with the most benign and least invasive procedures. All of those incidents came rolling through my memory as I sat there. As I handed my valuables over to Carolyn, I prayed an act of contrition and tried to resolve to accept whatever came to me this day.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When they called me back I jumped right out of my seat and was almost through the door before I realized I had not kissed Carolyn good bye. I turned back, kissed her and told her ‘I love you’ and then I was alone with the medical team. I was led into a typical pre-op bay with walls on three sides and just a curtain on the fourth side. I sat on a gurney, where there was a hospital gown and a bag for my clothing. After a brief interview the nurse gave me an overview of the risks of the procedure and the sedation I was about to receive. She talked about how I might experience some discomfort from gas pain afterwards, and that the best way to deal with it was to let it out rather than holding it in. She used an expression which I thought was priceless; one which I shall adopt in my own practice. She told me to act like a ‘Linebacker in a Locker Room’ when it comes to letting the gas out. I laughed. Next, I was told to change into a hospital gown (“Open in the back, untied.”) after removing the rest of my clothes. The nurse pulled the curtain closed as she stepped out. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I had never thought about how to change into a gown before. First of all, I was very self-conscious, knowing that there was only a curtain between me and the world outside. Second, I was cold to begin with. I had worn shorts and a shirt and a pair of Crocs so that I did not have a lot of clothes to deal with, but the day was abnormally cold for July in Texas. I wanted to change and get under the blanket on the bed as soon as possible. It suddenly occurred to me that the best thing to do was to remove my shirt, put on the gown (open in back), and remove everything else under the cover of the gown. I thought I was pretty smart. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Around this time the nurse called in to see if I were ready. I said I was, and both sides of the curtain were pulled back as a nurse approached me from both sides. In a matter of moments I had a set of electrocardiogram (ECG) leads placed on me and my blood pressure, heart rate, and oxygen saturation taken. While the nurse on the left was checking my vital signs, the one on the right applied a tourniquet to my right arm and started looking for a vein on the back of my hand. I asked what my blood pressure was; it was high. I figured it was because I was scared. Both nurses laughed, saying that my blood pressure was high because I had given Carolyn ‘some sugar’ before coming back for the procedure.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">About this time, the nurse on the right told me to open and close my fist and then relax. She placed an IV catheter in the back of my hand and I barely felt it. I asked her what size it was while I glanced at my hand. Before she could answer, I said, ‘oh, it’s a twenty-two,’ meaning a 22 gauge catheter. At this point she asked me if I was medical, and when I told her she laughed about how I just sat there and let her tell me all about the procedure. I told her that I appreciated that she treated me like any other patient, and I also told her that I would use her line about the linebacker in a locker room when I talk to my patients. After placing the IV, I was left alone in my little bay. The fluorescent lights above seemed a little harsh. I prayed, and wondered how much time had passed since I had come back there. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My next visitor identified herself as a nurse, and that she would be giving the sedation. I asked her if she were a CRNA (nurse anesthetist), and she said yes. She also went over my history. I was a little surprised that no one had listened to my heart or lungs yet. One of my surgical colleagues told me that when one of his children had surgery, four people listened to the child’s chest - but only one documented what they heard.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The circulating room nurse came by next, and along with asking some of the same questions, she verified my NPO times - NPO meaning nil per os in Latin, which means ‘nothing by mouth.’ With the procedure I was having, I had to abstain from solid food for more than 24 hours beforehand, so I told the nurse about how I had gone shopping at Costco the day before. I told her how they had samples of stuffed jalapenos wrapped in bacon(!) so the whole store smelled of bacon. She laughed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Shortly thereafter the doctor came by to talk to me. He said he wanted to see me about a month after the procedure, and that he would talk to Carolyn and me afterwards. He said I would probably not remember it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A minute later the circulator started rolling me back to the procedure room. It was rather strange to be riding in a gurney. It reminded me of a roller coaster ride, where one has no control, and it appears as if the ride is going to hit walls or other obstacles. I kept waiting for the gurney to strike a wall, but it never did. As we entered the room, the CRNA I saw before started putting on monitors and took off my glasses. When she saw my scapular, she said that I must have been praying before I came into the room. I told her I still was. After the monitors were in place, I was told to lie on my side. I was aware that the CRNA was hooking up an infusion of propofol into my intravenous line. I looked at my blood pressure which I could see on the monitor near my face, and it looked good. The last thing I remember doing was asking how long the procedure would take.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The next thing I remember was waking up, back in a bay similar to the one where I had started. A nurse I had never seen before told me that everything was done and that I could get dressed. Carolyn was suddenly there, and she helped me get dressed. The doctor stopped by and told me everything looked good and to see me in a month. As soon as I was dressed, I was escorted out to the car which Carolyn had pulled up front. I was surprised that I was not required to drink something before discharge; maybe I did drink something and just can’t remember. Either way, this is different from the pediatric world, where our patients get general anesthesia for this procedure. Also, children are at greater risk of dehydration than adults. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I recall going home and resting intermittently for the rest of the day. I felt funny and didn’t complete any of the desk work I had planned to tackle that day. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the 1946 edition of Medical Ethics for Nurses, by Charles J. McFadden, OSA, Bishop Fulton J. Sheen wrote,</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Every good nurse ought to have two things: A sense of humor, and an incision. A sense of humor in order that she might spread joy and gladness; an incision in order that she might have an experimental understanding and appreciation of pain.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This applies to doctors as well. For me, this experience did not involve any painful incisions, and Carolyn teased me how it was really nice for me to be able to recover so quickly after my procedure instead of suffering a lot of pain afterwards. But it still was instructive for me to experience the fear and humiliation which comes with being a patient. I tried to imagine what the experience must be like for those who are not in the medical field. I knew what was happening to me the whole time; I anticipated all the actions of those who cared for me. All of the folks at the surgery center acted professionally and empathetically at all times. But I was still scared. I hope that this experience will help me treat my patients with a bit more respect and sympathy. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So what was my procedure? If you haven't guessed what it was, just watch this song about it:</span></span><br />
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dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-11402887063849144372013-07-03T22:57:00.000-05:002013-07-03T22:57:57.851-05:00Book Review: Pro-Life Poetry, by Father Edward Mathias Robinson, O.P.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Pro-Life Poetry, by Father Edward Mathias Robinson, O.P.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fourteen pages of poems written by Fr. Edward Robinson, a Dominican priest. Fr. Robinson served as the Pro-Life coordinator for the Diocese from 1974 to 1993. After that he was a tremendous supporter of the Catholic Pro-Life Committee in Dallas until his death in 2012. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His poems explore the sin of abortion, from the decision of those who abort their children, to those of us who silently approve of it by our inactivity. No one is spared accusation in this little book of poems. Father wanted abortion to end, but more by changing the hearts of man than by outlawing a procedure. His poems touch the hearts of all who would read them: abortionists, women who chose abortion, and a society which looks the other way.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The poetry style is simple, with most stanzas consisting of rhyming lines. I found the simplicity of his writing to be appealing. One of them could almost fit on a bumper sticker - if the reader tailgated:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ABORTION*</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">THE CRUELEST PART IS NOT THE PAIN,</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">OR THAT THE BLOOD IS SHED,</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">BUT THAT THE MEASURE OF ONE'S GAIN</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">IS THAT A MAN IS DEAD......</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We received this booklet of poetry at the 2013 Catholic Pro-Life Committee Banquet. Please pray for the repose of the soul of this good priest. Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and may Perpetual Light shine upon him. May his soul, and all the souls of the Faithful Departed, rest in peace.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">* This poem, and even more poems by Fr. Robinson, can be found at this website:</span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> <a href="http://unbornperson.org/Poetry.html">http://unbornperson.org/Poetry.html</a></span></span></div>
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dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-52891851463703742082013-06-08T22:26:00.000-05:002013-06-08T22:26:59.246-05:00Book Review: Irish Pub Cooking<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IOa-NsL6MX8/Ua1ZHT1wJLI/AAAAAAAADnM/IwhXMRIYp-o/s1600/irish+pub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IOa-NsL6MX8/Ua1ZHT1wJLI/AAAAAAAADnM/IwhXMRIYp-o/s320/irish+pub.jpg" width="251" /></a>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">How should I write a book review for this cookbook? Should I comment on the writing style, or the editorial remarks which invariably accompany each recipe? Of course not. I - or rather, we - grabbed the book and headed into the kitchen to try out some of the recipes. The food will tell if this book deserves a spot in our library of cookbooks. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I bought <u>Irish Pub Cooking</u> a couple of years ago, thinking it would be neat to try some Irish cooking, and then promptly forgot about it. This past January I saw it on the bookshelf and started looking for alternatives to corned beef and cabbage for dinner on St. Patrick's Day. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The subtitle for <u style="font-style: normal;">Irish Pub Cooking</u> urges the reader to <i>"Pull up a stool, sup a pint, and tuck into some delicious pub food."</i> What follows is a collection of real food rather than the snacks offered at the typical American bar and grill franchise. There are no hot wings, sliders or quesadillas featured in this book.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The book has four chapters: one on appetizers, then entrées, followed by a chapter covering vegetables and sides, and the last on desserts and drinks. W</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">e did not try any appetizer recipes for a couple of reasons. One is that a lot of them contain seafood, and shellfish allergies run in our family. Another reason is that these recipes would not have been sufficient for feeding the whole family. Still, a lot of these recipes look very good. There are recipes for soups, sandwiches, and things called 'tartlets' which look like they should be filled with fruit rather than fish or meat. At some point I shall revisit this book to try their split pea soup. The last time I made split pea soup for the family, they swore I just threw a bunch of baby food into a pot and heated it up. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Entrées chapter is where I found my alternative to corned beef and cabbage. Of course, they include a recipe for that traditional dish, and it looks quite good. But I found something which looked even more intriguing: <b>Beef in Stout with Herb Dumplings.</b> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Beef. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Beer.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Somewhere Homer Simpson is drooling.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This recipe consists of beef dusted with flour and seasonings, and then stewed with stout and vegetables. We bought some Guinness Stout for this. The dumplings were made with something which I had never used before: suet. Suet is fat from beef; in particular, the fat which is found near the kidneys. It has a high melting point, which means that it will melt out of the dumplings after the flour has started to set up. The result is that the dumplings will have little air pockets in them after the suet melts and runs out. I called around to a few specialty stores trying to locate suet, and even searched the internet for alternatives. I ended up calling some friends who moved here from England to see if they could help me find some suet. Finally, as a last try, I called the butcher counter at the local Albertsons. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"How many pounds do you want?" he said. <i>Pounds</i>. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So we got suet. In retrospect, we probably got beef fat from some other part of the cow, but it still worked as well. One of the hardest things to do was shred it.</span></div>
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Did I mention that I was scheduled to be on call on St. Patrick's Day? All of the work of preparing the meal fell on the shoulders of Carolyn. God bless her. Of course, the children helped a lot as well. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Here is the picture of the 'Beef in Stout with Herb Dumplings' from the book:</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span>This dish was very filling.</div>
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The next chapter covered vegetables and sides. We only tried a couple of the bread recipes rather than the vegetables. We like to eat bread, especially homemade bread.</div>
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Here is a picture from the book of the Irish Soda Bread:</div>
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I like this recipe for its simplicity. We could mix the ingredients in a few minutes in a bowl, roll it out on a floured surface, and stick it in the oven right away. This was a good one for our youngest children to make.</div>
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The other bread featured was Oatmeal and Potato Bread. That was awesome. I made it with some baked potatoes which I mashed up with a fork. Carolyn made it another time where she used leftover mashed potatoes. Like everything touched by her, Carolyn's oatmeal and potato bread was a lot better than mine. </div>
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Here is a picture of Oatmeal and Potato Bread from the book:</div>
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All of these bread recipes were served with genuine Irish butter. Yum. There is another recipe for something called 'Barm Brack,' which looked a lot like the Scone my mother - and her grandmother - would make. This is one I would like to try sometime soon:</div>
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The final chapter had a recipe for apple cake and one for cheesecake. Carolyn made the Apple Cake because she loves me and knows how much I like apple anything. Besides, she already makes an excellent cheesecake. I don't particularly care for cheesecake, but I do love hers....</div>
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Apple Cake. Here is a picture of my almost-finished piece of cake. It tasted so good, I bent the fork!</div>
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Here is a picture of the intact cake along with the page from the cookbook. For those of you who are wondering what is in the bowl next to the cake, I believe it is fajita chicken that I was warming up. It just shows that no matter what our heritage is, we cannot escape the influence of our new home, <strike>Northern Mexico</strike> Texas.</div>
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I thought this was a picture of the oatmeal potato bread,but now I think it is actually one of our many wheat bread recipes. Whatever. We like bread. </div>
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The book includes recipes for Irish Coffee and 'Black Velvet,' something made with Stout and white wine. Since I recently won a HUGE bottle of Crown Royal whiskey, I shall have to try making Irish coffee with it.<br />
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So this book review degenerated into more of a photo fest than an essay. That is fine, considering that the subject is food. There were a lot of things I like about this book. One is that the recipes are simple enough for an amateur like me. Two is that every recipe produced something good to eat. Third, it was another opportunity for my children and I to get into the kitchen and make something. There is nothing better than tasting bread baked in your own oven, or a meal put together by our children. This book is just another way to help our children learn about one of the most important life skills, cooking. </div>
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dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-31045907559158928052013-03-31T16:07:00.000-05:002013-04-01T11:42:36.853-05:00Book Review: In Defense of Sanity: The Best Essays of G.K. Chesterton <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Last Thursday I took a couple of our cars to a local garage to get their oil changed. I figured it was about time, as they were both 5,000 miles past the recommended service point. It was shortly before lunchtime, and I drove one car to the garage while one of my sons followed a few minutes behind. He had to go on to his college classes which start in the afternoon. I couldn't stand that kind of schedule. I like getting up early in the morning and getting my work done sooner rather than later. I am sure that influenced my selection of anesthesiology as a specialty. I also think that I am responding to my own father's habit of sleeping in. While he was teaching as a college professor, he avoided early morning classes. I suspect that my children inherited the 'sleep in late' gene from my side of the family. It must skip a generation. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I brought along a book called <b>In Defense of Sanity</b>, which is a compilation of essays by G.K. Chesterton. The essays were selected by Dale Ahlquist, Joseph Pearce, and Aidan Mackey. I have met Ahlquist and Pearce at home schooling conferences. Ahlquist inspired me to look into reading more of Chesterton's works, and I joined the <a href="http://www.chesterton.org/" target="_blank">American Chesterton Society</a> to immerse myself more into this writer's work. Both Pearce and Ahlquist signed copies of their books which I had bought. I am reminded that one should never say something flippant when an author asks what he should write when he autographs a book. One of the books in my library is signed with the message to 'keep in touch,' while another states that I am a poor example of manhood. Even serious writers have a sense of humor. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I didn't think it would take long to change the oil in two cars, so I scanned the list of Chesterton's essays for one which would be short. I like short essays, because I often don't get back to a book for a while, and by then I need to start from the beginning again. This is especially true with Chesterton, because his writing seems to amble all over the place, and it requires a lot of concentration to follow his train of thought. Add to this that there was a television blaring away in the waiting room. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The television show was 'Family Feud,' where two families are pitted against each other. They have to guess the results of survey questions posed to some nebulous cross sectional group of Americans. All of the questions are loaded with innuendo, and today's question was no different. How can one best humiliate a man? By talking about his ....? I wondered if there were children watching this show right now, and thought about how these competing families never seem to have minor children. I also realized I was alone in the waiting room, so I hunted for the power switch on the television and shut it off.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Silence reigned. It reminded me of a time, back when I was in the Air Force, and I took our dog to the base veterinary clinic. I did not realize that we were not supposed to bring children - apparently a dog had mauled some child there in the past - so I showed up with several of my little creations in tow. The television in that waiting room was broadcasting the Jerry Springer Show where nearly every word spoken by the guests had to be blanked out. It was obvious that the persons were slinging around obscenities. Everyone in the waiting room was watching this demonstration of bad manners; everyone, including my children and I. I walked over and shut off the television, and then turned to the people staring at me in astonishment, announcing that I don't want my children watching that kind of garbage. Our dog was suddenly the next animal called back for a checkup.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I reached for my book, my gaze fell upon the magazines covering the coffee table in front of me. There were automotive and news magazines, a conservative journal which blamed every problem in the world on the Catholic Church, and a collection of gossip magazines. Right in the middle of the pile was a gossip magazine with a topless woman on the cover. Her arm was strategically placed across her chest. As I tossed it in the garbage, I thought about how one day this woman might have teenage daughters of her own, and how she will have to explain her behavior to them. More likely she will be trying to keep them from making the same mistakes she made when she was young and attractive. I thought about something mentioned in one of the few lectures on geriatric medicine which we had in medical school. This was back in the 1980’s, and we were reminded that some of the elderly women we would be treating probably participated in the ‘flapper’ generation of the 1920’s. We were advised that we might encounter diseases which seemed out of place in senior citizens. But for now there I sat, in a room with all manner of temptation spread before me like a smorgasbord: cars I can’t afford, women I don’t want, and news I don’t care about. I turned back to Chesterton.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">First, I became aware of men talking in the garage. I heard the workers calling out to one another as they went through their procedures on my cars. I heard the manager talking to someone on the phone about a worker who must be chronically late. I heard him mention that they will charge the employee ten dollars per day that he comes in late. Ouch. And lastly, I heard two workers discussing where they would buy lunch that day. There was nothing glamorous or dramatic about these conversations, but it was a welcome respite after the noise coming out of the television. It was refreshing to hear the ordinary speech of men going about the very honorable job of car care.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Finally I opened the book. Three essays caught my interest at once. One was on the Book of Job, another on the contents of Chesterton’s pockets, and the last was simply titled ‘A Piece of Chalk.’ I had heard about his essay on his pockets, and I wanted to read about Job because I recently experienced a new type of suffering, but decided to read about chalk instead. I had read somewhere that Chesterton and a friend were once looking through the window of a store, and GKC had declared that of all the things on display, a piece of lowly chalk was the most powerful thing of all there present. I thought this was the essay; I was wrong. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Chesterton begins his essay by procuring some chalk, after which he asked his landlady if she had any brown paper he could borrow. Now, I don’t know how big Chesterton was at the time he wrote this essay (1909), but he was a large man, and must have been very intimidating to those who did not know him well. I can only assume that the landlady fell into this category, as she eagerly supplied him with what he wanted. He then went out into the countryside to draw pictures on the paper. It struck me that Chesterton knew something about leisure which our present society has forgotten. I don’t know of any person who just walked out one day to go drawing pictures on brown paper. Certainly no adults would do this; we have too much other things to do. Only my children would possibly go and do something as fun as walk around outside and draw pictures. Even though our society is more advanced in so many ways, it appears as if we adults have forgotten how to take the time to play. St. Augustine once said that “without work is is impossible to have fun.” Perhaps too much of our work is just idling rather than pursuing a legitimate goal, and therefore we have burned up our free time - time we could spend coloring on brown paper. We need to recapture that childlike innocence, that aspect of fun.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, Chesterton suddenly realizes that he forgot to bring along a piece of white chalk. This would not be a problem if he were coloring on white paper, but it is a disaster when one’s canvas is brown. He makes a good point about the color ‘white:’</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0c343d; font-size: x-small;"><i>“And one of the two or three defiant verities of the best religious morality, of real Christianity, for example, is exactly this same thing; the chief assertion of religious morality is that white is a colour. Virtue is not the absence of vices or the avoidance of moral dangers; virtue is a vivid and separate thing, like pain or a particular smell. Mercy does not mean not being cruel or sparing people revenge or punishment; it means a plain and positive thing like the sun, which one has either seen or not seen. Chastity does not mean abstention from sexual wrong; it means something flaming, like Joan of Arc. In a word, God paints in many colours, but He never paints so gorgeously, I had almost said so gaudily, as when He paints in white.”</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I agree with him, up to a point. Certainly virtue is not solely the absence of evil, but is the presence of good. I doubt anyone is going to get to Heaven simply because he avoided sin. But when an evil is avoided, or removed, other good things can appear. In my own case, shutting off the television - and tossing a magazine in the garbage - made it possible to listen to the sounds of men at work, and to read an essay uninterrupted, and to recall how white chalk is often all around us. We might even be sitting on it.</span></span></div>
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dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-21438354208533843812013-03-08T20:02:00.000-06:002013-03-08T20:02:05.664-06:00Stations of the CrossThere is a beautiful Catholic Church in downtown San Antonio right along the Riverwalk. For several years, we were parishioners there. It was founded by German immigrants, and it is known as St. Joseph Catholic Church. We had an opportunity to visit San Antonio last Fall, and we stopped in to make a brief visit with Our Lord. I took the opportunity to take some pictures as well.<br />
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Here is a view from the back of the sanctuary. The painting had been redone in the late 1990's, and it still looked wonderful.<br />
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Here is another view:<br />
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The Stations of the Cross are also beautiful. My photographs here don't do them justice. But poor photography or writing never kept me from blogging, so here we go. I offer these for your meditation during Lent.<br />
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I like how the Stations are in German as well as English.<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The First Station:</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jesus is condemned to death:</span></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Second Station:</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Jesus carries His Cross:</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K680CeoocKE/UTqNC04NgLI/AAAAAAAADi0/zwaT-qKPN2k/s1600/IMG_3380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K680CeoocKE/UTqNC04NgLI/AAAAAAAADi0/zwaT-qKPN2k/s320/IMG_3380.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Third Station:</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Jesus falls the first time:</b></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2mAqNraZDWQ/UTqNDZn1XCI/AAAAAAAADjE/t6qsn7jG1V8/s1600/IMG_3381.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2mAqNraZDWQ/UTqNDZn1XCI/AAAAAAAADjE/t6qsn7jG1V8/s320/IMG_3381.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Fourth Station:</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Jesus meets His afflicted Mother:</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PRnqQg1W_zE/UTqNC4a1arI/AAAAAAAADi4/tEasDKaQ1cw/s1600/IMG_3382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PRnqQg1W_zE/UTqNC4a1arI/AAAAAAAADi4/tEasDKaQ1cw/s320/IMG_3382.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Fifth Station:</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Simon helps Jesus carry the Cross:</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DQ90XZHz5K0/UTqNLV7quaI/AAAAAAAADjU/78ZXXxtjAkA/s1600/IMG_3383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DQ90XZHz5K0/UTqNLV7quaI/AAAAAAAADjU/78ZXXxtjAkA/s320/IMG_3383.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Sixth Station:</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Veronica wipes the face of Jesus:</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0DGRrUiC93Q/UTqNKxXq3tI/AAAAAAAADjM/n5MzH_1WaXM/s1600/IMG_3384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0DGRrUiC93Q/UTqNKxXq3tI/AAAAAAAADjM/n5MzH_1WaXM/s320/IMG_3384.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Seventh Station:</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Jesus falls the second time:</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9gVLw91XUXM/UTqNLhdUnII/AAAAAAAADjY/2-8Rk4Ts9ro/s1600/IMG_3385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9gVLw91XUXM/UTqNLhdUnII/AAAAAAAADjY/2-8Rk4Ts9ro/s320/IMG_3385.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Eighth Station:</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Jesus consoles the women of Jerusalem:</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aytDbmNaPVs/UTqNRv0zCmI/AAAAAAAADjk/mpDJ8aJmdCM/s1600/IMG_3387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aytDbmNaPVs/UTqNRv0zCmI/AAAAAAAADjk/mpDJ8aJmdCM/s320/IMG_3387.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Ninth Station:</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Jesus falls the third time:</b></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4tg32aRRE1s/UTqNTkVdYKI/AAAAAAAADj0/keUwgxPbggA/s1600/IMG_3388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4tg32aRRE1s/UTqNTkVdYKI/AAAAAAAADj0/keUwgxPbggA/s320/IMG_3388.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Tenth Station:</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Jesus is stripped of His garments:</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LEBAwEYignU/UTqNTBXTAUI/AAAAAAAADjs/WMJDuN_aWtw/s1600/IMG_3389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LEBAwEYignU/UTqNTBXTAUI/AAAAAAAADjs/WMJDuN_aWtw/s320/IMG_3389.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Eleventh Station:</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Jesus is nailed to the Cross:</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-obZaFp7espQ/UTqNYTmj_GI/AAAAAAAADj8/c1tBGAUlTow/s1600/IMG_3390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-obZaFp7espQ/UTqNYTmj_GI/AAAAAAAADj8/c1tBGAUlTow/s320/IMG_3390.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Twelfth Station:</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Jesus dies upon the Cross:</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NThZWXZ0AnY/UTqNaRKIyWI/AAAAAAAADkE/d1TYXd1LmA4/s1600/IMG_3391.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NThZWXZ0AnY/UTqNaRKIyWI/AAAAAAAADkE/d1TYXd1LmA4/s320/IMG_3391.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Thirteenth Station:</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Jesus is taken from the Cross:</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mzGPKTvqf6s/UTqNbjLpI0I/AAAAAAAADkM/WrwSGsacfCA/s1600/IMG_3392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mzGPKTvqf6s/UTqNbjLpI0I/AAAAAAAADkM/WrwSGsacfCA/s320/IMG_3392.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>The Fourteenth Station:</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Jesus is laid in the sepulchre:</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hFX7eplBjhg/UTqNgwsBKMI/AAAAAAAADkU/yPAb5uHVKdM/s1600/IMG_3393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hFX7eplBjhg/UTqNgwsBKMI/AAAAAAAADkU/yPAb5uHVKdM/s320/IMG_3393.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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The altar is truly one of the most beautiful parts of the church.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-88S-wyrhiNI/UTqNie7ud_I/AAAAAAAADkc/dr0YSBMkaiQ/s1600/IMG_3394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-88S-wyrhiNI/UTqNie7ud_I/AAAAAAAADkc/dr0YSBMkaiQ/s320/IMG_3394.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Long after its founding, a department store called Joski's bought the land around the church. They tried to buy the church land as well, but they were rebuffed. So they built the store around the church and rectory, leaving a small parking lot for parishioners. You can see the church in the center of the picture below:<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hb3UaC-BVms/UTqNlHUU7GI/AAAAAAAADkk/4pKO1On0mKM/s1600/IMG_3399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hb3UaC-BVms/UTqNlHUU7GI/AAAAAAAADkk/4pKO1On0mKM/s320/IMG_3399.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Here is a zoomed in picture of the church. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9UJCTMjziuE/UTqNnJ7W_NI/AAAAAAAADk0/-mGdQ9b6kTQ/s1600/IMG_3401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9UJCTMjziuE/UTqNnJ7W_NI/AAAAAAAADk0/-mGdQ9b6kTQ/s320/IMG_3401.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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After this Joski's opened, folks started to refer to the church as 'St. Joski's' rather than St. Joseph. Now Joski's is gone, and another store owns the buildings which surround our former parish. I hope that St. Joseph remains for many years to come, for visitors of San Antonio and for the people who have attended the church for their whole lives. Hopefully St. Joseph will never experience 'wreckovation' either.<br />
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Aerial photographs were actually taken from the Tower of the Americas.dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-90973779697628902362013-03-03T19:55:00.001-06:002013-03-03T19:55:09.383-06:00A Poetry MomentI was reminded of this poem as I sampled a bit of Bohemian Black Lager made at Shiner Brewery if Shiner, Texas:<br />
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<br />
High and Low, by James H. Cousins<br />
<br />
<br />
He stumbled home from Clifden fair<br />
With drunken song, and cheeks aglow.<br />
Yet there was something in his air<br />
That told of kingship long ago.<br />
I sighed -- and inly cried<br />
With grief that one so high should fall so low.<br />
<br />
But he snatched a flower and sniffed its scent,<br />
And waved it toward the sunset sky.<br />
Some old sweet rapture through him went<br />
And kindled in his bloodshot eye.<br />
I turned -- and inly burned<br />
With joy that one so low should rise so high.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
-- James H. Cousins<br />
<br />
Prost! Für meine Freunden!<br />
<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-KbSCDrjtpHI/UTP-_FYCUFI/AAAAAAAADiM/MKm01VYWTpc/s640/blogger-image--1230564772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-KbSCDrjtpHI/UTP-_FYCUFI/AAAAAAAADiM/MKm01VYWTpc/s640/blogger-image--1230564772.jpg" /></a></div>dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-9734862278428986052013-02-24T00:25:00.001-06:002013-02-24T00:25:33.408-06:00What Was I Thinking Here?I was looking for a bit of misplaced writing when I searched through the 'Draft' list of the blog and came across this unnamed entry. It consists of four pictures. One is of the Albino character from the movie 'The Princess Bride.' The next is of Supreme Court Justice Elena Kagan, followed by two copies of the same picture of President Obama watching basketball.<br />
<br />
What was I thinking about when I started this blog entry?<br />
<br />
I wish I knew.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFU9IcfUbaKP3ZBPlQoiVpjG7wWNV6u7G_uI0URI6Chpv4a-df4x8obwZn1kIOkV3wM4YGwZDVpcZuy_S90EWGxPGP09oi18bRKnUhgujRtk8fY1vgFBSJkZ-6uTDyprGYgPCQgw/s1600/the_albino.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487950402673166002" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFU9IcfUbaKP3ZBPlQoiVpjG7wWNV6u7G_uI0URI6Chpv4a-df4x8obwZn1kIOkV3wM4YGwZDVpcZuy_S90EWGxPGP09oi18bRKnUhgujRtk8fY1vgFBSJkZ-6uTDyprGYgPCQgw/s400/the_albino.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 288px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 384px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdgwaOqDupnyaEDuhHW4EKQySijcKLmvpdwWW3Fb-_FhJBB5hYfx_im0id5PDMV7OWpn724PyjbTLldrXQbGzCG-07U6_GAXlGkz3GAlqtjvsqHBFitWZzlzRNO8NlQMOJw1ivpQ/s1600/KAGAN.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487950397100065554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdgwaOqDupnyaEDuhHW4EKQySijcKLmvpdwWW3Fb-_FhJBB5hYfx_im0id5PDMV7OWpn724PyjbTLldrXQbGzCG-07U6_GAXlGkz3GAlqtjvsqHBFitWZzlzRNO8NlQMOJw1ivpQ/s400/KAGAN.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 345px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjI4YYV2hWlbKvtBMthHi5WSJdiqidI2iZrKBlQni0fkYtOgP_wWS5AUJkKX9-C4bVahyphenhyphenqWr5M0wiunrZHnARje2bSIum_pITN8VCRaRy-x9ZoF522SWd5_-huhil9yv8wSqYv7A/s1600/the+mad+prof.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487950391080982210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjI4YYV2hWlbKvtBMthHi5WSJdiqidI2iZrKBlQni0fkYtOgP_wWS5AUJkKX9-C4bVahyphenhyphenqWr5M0wiunrZHnARje2bSIum_pITN8VCRaRy-x9ZoF522SWd5_-huhil9yv8wSqYv7A/s400/the+mad+prof.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 280px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR-bco-tSqrivc9nEjSc0HXc1xqrzkzTGjAA0DIRPLEKcamwDelLrq-dTlz1JZxe-NJLnSWroC9VRYFbSCL8cArR3LwHIgPN8fS5KhneMs9Fcy0I42n_6CC44lfhYRjQFi2BoIDQ/s1600/mad+professor" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487950384767311330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR-bco-tSqrivc9nEjSc0HXc1xqrzkzTGjAA0DIRPLEKcamwDelLrq-dTlz1JZxe-NJLnSWroC9VRYFbSCL8cArR3LwHIgPN8fS5KhneMs9Fcy0I42n_6CC44lfhYRjQFi2BoIDQ/s400/mad+professor" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 280px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
...but then again, maybe I do know.dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-85064499333200933162013-02-08T23:33:00.001-06:002013-02-08T23:33:56.281-06:00Another Reason to Write with a Fountain PenInstead of filling your pen with ink, you could fill it with your favorite beverage. Let me know how it works out. <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-S3aeoI47Ol8/URXfp1PMs6I/AAAAAAAADhg/UBDdayNbrnw/s640/blogger-image-2082846283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-S3aeoI47Ol8/URXfp1PMs6I/AAAAAAAADhg/UBDdayNbrnw/s640/blogger-image-2082846283.jpg" /></a></div>dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-46031785165528847132013-02-06T15:07:00.000-06:002013-02-06T15:09:16.181-06:00The 'Two-Dollar Pistol' of Fountain PensFirst let me show you what a two dollar pistol is:<br />
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HvEHu0O-5nw?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
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I first heard about one of these pistols in a short story by Kurt Vonnegut. The main character was declared 'hotter than a two dollar pistol' by an admirer. During the Second World War, these pistols apparently cost about $2.00 to manufacture, and with the lack of any sort of comfort amenities like grips or insulation I could see how this pistol could get really hot in a hurry. I can only imagine how painful shooting one of these would be. Recoil in a smaller caliber/smaller size pistol can be bad; I am sure the recoil from a .45 cal. bullet must be even worse.<br />
<br />
There is a fountain pen I have which applies the same principles of economy, expendability and practicality that are found in the Liberator Pistol. It the Petit1 mini fountain pen, made by Pilot. It is really cheap and yet writes extremely well, and cost me only $3.80. It has a fine nib and comes with one ink cartridge. It is a proprietary ink cartridge, so one must either buy refills or - this is what I did - fill it up with your own ink. Some folks on YouTube show ways to use the body of the pen as the ink reservoir, but I don't recommend that. <br />
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Here is a picture of it:<br />
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It has a stainless steel nib, and the ink travels from the reservoir through a small channel filled with a strand of absorbent material that looks like felt. I know this from watching a video review of this pen; whenever I take things apart they never come back together properly. I limited myself to adding new ink to the pen.<br />
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Here it is next to a quarter to give you some perspective of size. I don't have big hands; at least not long fingers. So I can comfortably write without putting the cap on the end of the pen. By the way, putting the cap on the end of the pen when one writes is known as 'posting' for some reason. This pen cap actually sits very securely when it is posted, so someone with a larger hand could manage it.<br />
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Here it is with the cap off. I did notice that there was some condensation on the inside of the cap. Perhaps this is present with every pen and I only can see it because the cap is clear. It doesn't interfere with the working of the pen. Of course, whenever I drop a fountain pen, ink ends up in the cap, and usually makes a mess on my fingers, but I don't mind......<br />
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Here you can see a sample of my bad handwriting. The fine nib makes for what I would consider fine writing; this is important when I am writing on medical records. The ink in it is <a href="http://noodlersink.com/" target="_blank">Noodlers Ink</a> <a href="http://noodlersink.com/general/new-bernanke-inks/" target="_blank">Bernanke Blue</a>. I bought the pen from <a href="http://JetPens.com/">JetPens.com</a>.<br />
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In summary, this is a nice little pen for writing anywhere. It is versatile and portable, and writes well for a while even when upside down (occasionally I write things holding the chart up against the wall, and it still works). The ink flow is smooth with some scratching, but I have never had it burp out a blob of ink on the paper. The other nice thing is that I would not cry too much if I lost it or stepped on it. <br />
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Write Garbage! <i>Illustration by Jules Feiffer</i>dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-82715322315468587312013-01-19T00:29:00.000-06:002013-01-19T00:29:55.949-06:00Return to Clear Creek Monastery - March, 2012<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It had been two years since we visited Clear Creek Monastery, or <a href="http://clearcreekmonks.org/" target="_blank">Our Lady of Clear Creek Abbey</a>. Every year our local home school group would travel up to Oklahoma and spend a weekend doing manual labor for the monks. The history of the place is described very well on their website, and I recommend it to the two people who bother to read this post. While you are reading it, you may come across the name <a href="http://www.catholiceducation.org/articles/education/ed0364.htm" target="_blank">John Senior</a>, a University of Kansas teacher who had some part in helping some of these monks find their religious vocations. Mr. Senior is is an example of how one man can change things for the better. We need more men like this nowadays....<br />
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<a href="http://scorpionstalkingduck.blogspot.com/search?q=clear+creek+monastery" target="_blank">Here is a link</a> for all the older posts about Clear Creek Monastery. They are out of order, for some reason, and as you scroll down the posts become less relevant......<br />
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Here is the cathedral. When we were last here, only the lower chapel existed. That is the area below the white line of bricks. It will one day be the crypt chapel. The first time we visited the monastery, it was as cold as a walk in freezer. It is nice to see that the construction is progressing nicely. There will be more pictures later.<br />
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Here are Augustine and Benedict, two of the three boys who went with me. I couldn't find a picture with Nathaniel. It's too bad, because one picture of the three boys would heighten the contrast between my blood and Carolyn's blood. Note that Gus is wearing long pants and a coat, while Benedict is sporting some cool shorts and a T-shirt. I was dressed more like Gus, because is was cold and rainy. I think it actually snowed a little that day - when it wasn't raining. Nathaniel was dressed like Ben.<br />
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Here is another picture for those who don't believe the picture above. The guest house is in the background. No, that is not where we stayed. The guest house is just where you meet up with the porter or the monk known as the Guestmaster. Either of them will get you a room at some of their cabins(like where we stayed), or in the monastery itself. For men considering a religious vocation, they can arrange to spend some time living the monastic life. For a glimpse of life as a monk, I strongly recommend reading the Rule of St. Benedict. I reviewed it briefly <a href="http://scorpionstalkingduck.blogspot.com/2008/03/wood-chips-smoke-diesel-and-sweat.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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I went into the crypt chapel to look around. It was dark, with only the candle lit by the Tabernacle. Light streamed in through the windows behind the side altars. Imagine a chapel with about eight side chapels. When Low Mass is said first thing in the morning, priests are celebrating Mass almost all around the congregation. In addition to the side chapels, there are main two altars - one behind the other. This is the farthest back side chapel on the left side looking toward the main altar. <br />
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I ventured to use the flash on my iPhone to give a little more detail to the picture:<br />
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At that moment I realized that the organ music I could hear was from another new addition. The monks had an organ, and one of the brothers was practicing. I took a brief video of the chapel so you could hear the music:<br />
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Hopefully you could appreciate the side chapels. On the right hand side my iPhone picked up the votive candles. The organ music reminded me of the kind of music one hears in movies whenever the plot takes the characters to a church. It seems as if someone is always noodling with the keyboard in church.<br />
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Now, on to the outside. The upper part of the cathedral was not complete. They had a stone cutter working on the elaborate sculpted figures which were over the main doors. This stone cutter was transforming what was a piece of rock into figures. That was cool. Here are a couple pictures:<br />
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And another.........</div>
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Here is the interior of the church. I suspect that by now, almost a year later, that it is complete. This is the view from the altar, with the main door in the background. Here you can appreciate the layout of the Benedictine chapel. The congregation occupies the pews farthest from the camera. There is a space, where I suspect a Communion Rail will be positioned. Closer in are the seats occupied by the monks when they come together for prayers of the Divine Office.<br />
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Here are some of the folks in our group, with Father Guestmaster showing us around the church. Note that the roof is not complete.<br />
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Here is one of the covered walkways on the outside of the church. I thought the light and shadow contrast was kind of cool. <br />
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Of course we did more than just tour the facilities and eat the monastery food. We also had some work to do. In the past, we have cleared brush and put up fences to keep the animals in their assigned pastures. This year we got to do a bit of both. Most of our work was with fences, but on Saturday afternoon we got to all act like little boys again and start fires! We lit up huge piles of brush which had been sitting for at least a year, so they were ready to burn. Our main job was to stamp out any embers which landed on the ground. There was hardly a breeze. The brother who was supervising us taught me something that may one day be good to know. I thought it would be best to light the fire on the 'upwind' side of the pile so that it would burn faster. Brother Joseph pointed out that if he did that, even a light breeze would fan the fire too much. By the time it reached the 'downwind' side, the flames might be high enough to light some of the surrounding tree tops. That could lead to an even greater fire. Instead, a fire lit on the 'downwind' side had to slowly work its way upwind to consume all the brush.<br />
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Here are some fire shots:<br />
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At last, I include some pictures of the chapel crypt with the lights on. If you compare these shots with some of my earlier blog entries, you will see how they really improved the chapel. It is no longer as cold as a freezer.</div>
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This was the first time we had ever been to Clear Creek during the month of March. It was warmer than going in February, but that brought some new problems. The biggest one for me was dealing with ticks. I don't like ticks, and I know people who got Lyme disease and are still suffering from the complications of the disease. Even though I don't like the cold, I would rather deal with being a bit uncomfortable than have to pick little arthropods off myself or someone else.<br />
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I look forward to going back to Clear Creek and see how the construction has progressed. That is not the only reason, though. I find the monks to be an inspiration as well as a source of strength and consolation for me. It is edifying for me to see these men forsaking all to spend their lives - sacrificing their lives - in continuous <i>'ora et labora'</i> for the greater glory of God. It is also reassuring to know that they are praying for my soul - and yours as well - now and at the hour of death.<br />
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Write garbage!dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-58204331048750019152013-01-15T23:48:00.002-06:002013-01-15T23:48:47.723-06:00Write Garbage/250<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Write Garbage.....the phrase keeps coming back to me. I heard it a while ago at a time management conference for high school students. After the children listened to the presenter (I can't recall his name), he spent a while talking to us parents. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">One of the things he discussed was how to go about writing a term paper. He talked about organizing one's time into little compartments, so that the whole project became a series of much smaller tasks. Finally he mentioned his recommendations for how to actually begin writing the paper. I always found this to be the hardest part of writing papers in school. Nowadays, I find that I don't want to publish a blog entry until it is 'perfect,' and so my computer is full of things I have written which I don't particularly care for. Even some of the things which do make it onto the blog seem terrible to me when I read them a year or two later. I want to become a better writer, and what this man said I found very helpful.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">He described a creative writing seminar where a young woman asked the teacher how to handle writer's block. Apparently this woman had not written anything for a long time, and she was looking for a way to break out of this slump. The teacher told her to 'write garbage.' What he meant by this was to write something - anything - just to get back into the routine of writing. Eventually, like the infinite monkeys sitting in front of an infinite number of typewriters, something as good as Shakespeare will appear.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Does anyone remember typewriters?</span><br />
<br />So this is the first attempt to just throw something up against the wall of this blog and see if it will stick. I shall try to break out of my own writer's block by writing garbage, so to speak. So what does the 250 stand for? It is a personal requirement that I write at least 250 words each time I sit down at this computer. I have achieved that goal quite a while back; this blog entry consists of 357 words.</div>
dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-61038628647090182862012-12-27T23:53:00.000-06:002012-12-27T23:53:07.762-06:00Book Review: How To Hook and LaunchIt's not what it seems....<br />
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How to Hook and Launch: Traction Mods for Street & Strip<br />
Dick Miller<br />
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There are times when I wonder how I ended up reviewing the books I review. This book is on a subject I shall never pursue; I have enough trouble remembering to get the oil changed on our cars.....<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">How To Hook and Launch: Traction Mods for Street & Strip, written by Dick Miller, is a very specialized book for the drag racing enthusiast. The term ‘hook and launch’ describes the process by which a car starts from a standstill with optimal traction (hook) translating into maximal forward motion (launch). The better the car can ‘hook’ into the ground, the faster it will ‘launch’ down the drag strip to victory.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">While it sounds rather simple, Mr. Miller explains that the physics behind drag racing is extremely complex, and that it can have a tremendous impact on the end result. He includes pictures which graphically support his writing. For example, he shows how not compensating for all the various forces at work in the car - from the engine to the driveshaft and rear axle - can nearly roll a car as it accelerates. He also has some impressive pictures of cars which had enough traction but not enough forward compensation to keep their front ends from rising too high. One Mustang looks as if it were about to flip over!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The majority of this book addresses modifications necessary to the suspension and tires. In the latter portion of the book, Mr. Miller discusses other components of the automobile which can be adjusted or augmented in order to increase the chance of victory. Miller is quite outspoken about what he prefers, but he does write with forty years of experience in this field. As he explains in the book, he has basically used the same kind of automobile for all those years, and has tried a lot of different parts in the quest for more speed with control. Forty years experience is something I would not scoff at. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">This book made me realize just how much there is to an automobile that I don't understand. After a while, I concluded that this book is a lot like any medical textbook, where if one does not understand the terminology, it is very difficult to appreciate what the author is saying. But this book was not written for folks like myself who have enough trouble remembering to get the oil changed on our cars regularly. I would recommend this book for the serious drag racer who wants to win. </span></span></div>
dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-30840683293225447422012-09-26T14:18:00.002-05:002012-09-26T14:18:32.274-05:00Chicken Ranch UpdateThe chickens are now about five months old, and a lot has happened since we first got that box of baby chicks at our local post office. I thought I would update everyone on what the chickens are up to......<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Chicken Body Count</b></span></span></span><br />
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First a few vital statistics. I got a grab-bag of chicks to see what would be best for our homestead, and already natural selection has weeded some of them out. Let's do the numbers, shall we?<br />
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1. We ordered 25 chicks, specifically hens rather than roosters. The company, Ideal Poultry, has to include a couple of rooster chicks into a large group like that to help keep the chicks warm. Apparently the roosters are good for something besides fertilizing eggs. So we expected at least 2 roosters.<br />
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2. One chick did not survive the trip, so we actually started with 24 chicks.<br />
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3. One chick died on day 2 or 3; we could tell right away that it wasn't acting vigorous like the others. It would just stand alone under the heat lamp, or lie around. Also, it seemed to be collecting a lot of waste around its rear end. Now we have 23.<br />
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4. Shortly after transitioning to the outside pen, we lost two chickens. It happened on a day that I opened the roost before sunrise. I suspect that a predator may have been around in the waning gloom and may have grabbed them. More likely is that they got outside of the pen and couldn't get back in, and something got them. Our neighbor's dog did start to hang around our house for a while, so he may have been the culprit. Now we have 21.<br />
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5. One morning we found a chicken dead in the roost. It had blood at its neck. All the other chickens seemed subdued. We interrogated all of them separately, buy they all denied seeing anything. Now we are at 20.<br />
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6. We had one of the chickens, a rooster, get fowl pox. Here is a video of that rooster in happier times, showing how it can crow like a rooster:<br />
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Yes, chicken pox for chickens. We had started to notice little black lesions on the comb of this rooster. Over time, more lesions formed on its pox. One day, while I was near the pen, I suddenly saw this rooster start flopping around. The other rooster, the black one, immediately set upon it and viciously pecked at its neck. The poor little rooster looked dead. I ran in and chased off the black rooster. I grabbed a shovel and removed the ailing rooster from the rest of the chickens. I put it in the compost pile, thinking it was dead. Instead it jumped up and ran off. It ran for a while, then stopped and keeled over. Its mouth was gaping open, and it was gasping for breath. Even worse was its comb. Usually the comb is a bright red, but as I watched it, it turned to a dusky purple shade. To me, that indicated hypoxia, or lack of oxygen. I have seen patients turn that color, and it is because they are starving for oxygen.<br />
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There are two types of fowl pox, I have learned. One consists of lesions on the skin of a chicken, and they are not so bad. They might cause the chicken to lose part of its comb or claw, but that is all right. The other kind of fowl pox is far worse. It affects the lining of the chicken's airway, causing swelling and making it hard for the chicken to breathe. It is also highly contagious. It is referred to as a diphtheria type of fowl pox.<br />
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I suspected this poor little rooster had the diphtheria type. There is no cure for it at that point, and I could tell the animal was <i>in extremis</i>. I don't like to see animals suffering.<br />
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The children were all up in arms about my plan. Some objected to killing the chicken, while a more vocal group were pressing for me to use a shotgun on the poor little bird. I used one of the large caliber pellet guns.<br />
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Now we have 19.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;"><b>"Dad, the Rooster is Killing the Hens!"</b></span></span></span><br />
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Roosters live a simple life. They eat, they sleep, and they have two response to anything that moves inside the pen: if it is a hen, they try to mate with it. If it is not, they try to kill it. <br />
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They will even attack hens if they are behaving abnormally. I already mentioned how the one rooster attacked the dying one. When the hens have gotten out of the pen, we have had to chase them back inside. This often results in a hen cornered against the fence, at which time they will flap their wings and 'walk' up the side of the fence. Usually they run back and forth, clucking like mad before they do this, and it drives the roosters crazy. On one occasion a hen tried to go under the fence. She got her head stuck in the fencing, and the rooster on the other side proceeded to peck at her head viciously. After I shooed him away, I freed the hen and tossed her over the fence. <br />
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At this point we were retrieving at least five hens from outside the pen each day. I did a quick search on YouTube on how to clip the wings of the chickens, and then went out and did it to the flock. Problem solved - almost. We still get some over the fence; I suspect they are climbing in the trees and escape that way. <br />
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About roosters killing hens: One day the children told us that the rooster was attacking the hens. They would squawk and run away, but occasionally the rooster would catch them and sit on them. We explained to the children that this was the rooster mating with the hens, and that soon we should be getting fertilized eggs. Nowadays, the hens don't seem to object to this kind of behavior. We are still waiting for some fertilized eggs, though.<br />
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<span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eggs!</span></span></b></span><br />
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We started getting eggs. First it was just one small white egg per day. Then we got a few brown eggs. Now we collect about 5 or 6 eggs per day. The children tell me that they can tell when a hen is laying an egg. The hen will go into the coop, enter one of my ridiculous looking hatching boxes, and then start squawking a lot. Kaboom! An egg will appear. Since I am off this week, I had the opportunity to hear this noise myself. I swore it sounded like a chicken yelling, "where is my epidural? I want my epidural!!!!!" That might be just my imagination....<br />
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Carolyn would send me picture of the eggs via her iPhone. Here is one of the white eggs: <br />
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Not much to look at, but for us it is a joy to see these smelly little creatures producing something other that droppings. Here it is in the frying pan. It was a double-yolk egg:<br />
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For those of you in my generation, remember this:<br />
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Any questions?<br />
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<span style="color: red;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Getting More Chicks</span></span></b></span><br />
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Now we have a decision to make about the future of our egg-laying flock. We would love to raise our own chickens, but we still want to collect eggs. We also want to have only brown eggs, and so we would like to phase out the white egg-laying hens. On top of that, we have to do something with the roosters. Yes, roosters. Right after I euthanized the one rooster, another one, this one is white, started crowing. So now we have a white and a black rooster. I suspect there is at least one more rooster who has not matured.<br />
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What I see is the need to determine which chickens lay brown eggs. Next we have to determine if any of our eggs are fertilized. That is pretty easy to do with the flashlight app on an iPhone; we use that to 'candle' the eggs. The other issue is to determine which hens are better brooders. This can only be done by watching them, and today I think I found a good candidate.<br />
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I had just collected an egg from the hatching box when I noticed a chicken outside of it clucking like mad. As I watched, it hopped into the box and started walking around in a circle inside of it. I eventually stopped and sat down, sitting on top of one of the plastic Easter eggs we had left in the box. A friend told us that hens like to lay where there are other eggs, they don't seem to recognize the plastic ones as fake eggs. Anyway, as I watched, this hen pulled the fake egg under her with her beak. I set the egg I had back into the box, and she proceeded to pull that one under her as well. <br />
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I think I found our brooding hen.<br />
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I shall write more in the future. Here is another video of our chickens wandering around me while I film them:
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7aeHAY-ji6U?list=UUCxB0hosONWQnWSd8osdj8Q&hl=en_US" width="640"></iframe>dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30448825.post-21826724327865014212012-09-20T00:20:00.002-05:002012-09-20T00:20:43.584-05:00Book Review: Just Add Water: Making the City of Chicago <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Just Add Water: Making the City of Chicago</b></span></span><br />
Renee Kreczmer<br />
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Lake Claremont Press<br />
2012 <br />
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Can anything good come from Chicago?<br /><br />This variation on a passage in St. John's Gospel is what I first thought when I received Just Add Water: Making the City of Chicago, written by Renee Kreczmer. Ms. Kreczmer is described as a "superstar Chicago history teacher with the Chicago Public Schools" on the back cover of her book, and she proves it with this easy to read book which was designed for grade school children. Even though grade school for me was during the previous century, I still found the book informative and entertaining.<br /><br />The book consists of fifteen chapters called 'Investigations,' which Kreczmer starts by proposing a series of questions. The answers to all these questions are found in that chapter. This format is similar to that of a textbook; one could see this book used by home schoolers as well as institutionalized students. She begins with the founding of Chicago as a military and trading post back in the 1600's. After reading this book, I understand why Chicago is where it is, as Kreczmer discusses the role it played in the fur industry, the French and Indian War, and the Revolutionary War.<br /><br />Later chapters discuss the growth of Chicago. The Chicago Fire and the Chicago World's Fair are presented. All of the chapters include small biographies of important men and women in the history of Chicago. The challenges of the immigrants groups who settled in the city are also mentioned. Ms. Kreczmer wrote this book for the third grade level, so there are a lot of pictures to accompany the captivating narrative. It only took me a few hours to breeze through the book. <br /><br />Every chapter ends with Internet links or the addresses of actual places to visit in Chicago. This book would be an excellent guide for someone interested in making a tour of the city. <br /><br />The only objection I had to this book was how Ms. Kreczmer described an incident which happened in 1812. In that year, a group of Potowatomi Indians attacked a detachment of soldiers, women, and children who were evacuating Fort Dearborn, located in what is now downtown Chicago. The Indians outnumbered the group by a ratio of five to one. In the fight, two-thirds of the Americans were killed, including more than half of the women and children. The survivors were held as prisoners and eventually ransomed for supplies. In a footnote, Ms. Kreczmer defines the word massacre and then includes this sentence: "The term massacre is offensive to some, so the Fort Dearborn Massacre is sometimes referred to as the Battle of Fort Dearborn."<br /><br />I wondered who would consider the term massacre offensive. Certainly the dead would think that, but who else would object to the way history would remember this event? While she doesn't say it, I think Ms. Kreczmer is referring to the Potowatomi Indian tribe. I know that many Indian tribes have lately taken offense to how they are portrayed in modern society. My own Alma mater, Eastern Michigan University, changed the name of its mascot from the ‘Hurons’ to the ‘Eagles’ in deference to a complaint. But that is a story for another time. It is sad that Ms. Kreczmer felt the urge to soften the description of one of the less memorable moments in the history of the Potowatomi tribe. <br />
<br />Every nation, every religion, every tribe on this planet has committed atrocities at some point in their history. It is part of human nature that we tend to beat up on our fellow man. In Ireland, surely there were ancestors of mine who fought with Protestants and even the British, but I do not feel any kind of shame for what they did in the past. I would rather spend my efforts on making sure that my actions and those of my descendants are for the good, the true, and the beautiful.<br /><br />I would not let this one little objection discourage the reader from buying this book. Ms. Kreczmer has written a wonderful book which describes the history of one of the most important cities in the United States. I could see where this book could help instill pride for this city in the hearts of the children of Chicago, while also piquing the interest of the tourist or historian making a visit to this city.dadwithnoisykidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07524886860399817926noreply@blogger.com0