See Y'all Later.

I'm going on hiatus. Don't know when I'll be back, but I will, eventually. I've done just short of 800 posts. I really enjoy doing it, but I need a break.

Poured, Not Dunked.

Deron and Beth's boy got baptized at St. Jude's yesterday. Lady Di and I made a point of going to the late service to be there. Father Floyd Finch presided over the ceremony. He's been among the visiting priests subbing for us while we look for a new rector. Father Floyd's been introducing babies into their new communities for a little minute: he presided over my daughter, Caroline's, baptism 21 years ago. Father Floyd's a round, hearty "Friar Tuck"-looking priest, and he looks about like he did back in 1990(Caroline does not).

Glory to Deodorant in the Highest.

Well, if Gloria in excelsis Deo is Latin for "Glory to God in the Highest", then this stuff must smell awfully good. The Gloria's mighty pretty, but Dizzy Gillespie's got a "Deo" thing going, too.

Blessed.

"The interest is up and the Stock Market's down, and you only get mugged if you go downtown", Hank Williams, Jr. opined in an old song. He found some stuff to get excited about, anyway (in addition to "A Country Boy Can Survive" he's unequivocally stated that, if Heaven ain't a lot like Dixie, he doesn't want to go. 'Course, if Heaven ain't a lot like Dixie, he probably won't be invited). It's all about perspective, I guess. I've found God in some interesting places, as I've mention before in myPlato and a Platypus post, but you gotta kept your ears and eyes open. Like everyone, I've got some challenges, but I'm grateful for my lovely bride, my good health, and the chance- if only a small one- to help folks once in awhile. Lucinda Williams found blessings in some strange places, too (but if you'd rather listen to Bocephus, you can).

Lucinda.

Hank.

Stupid Signs, Part XV.

Yellow? These guys need to consult their kindergarten color wheel: that truck is orange.


Well, yeah...


Nah, that's a helmet.

I Can See for Miles, and Miles...

As I sat in traffic at a dead stop for ages, a Who classic taunted me. You can sort of hear it on the video below:



As if.

Alison M. and the Deathly Hallows.

Brother Andy and his lovely daughter, Alison, stopped by at the conclusion of their college tour last weekend. Andy and Ali visited Emory, Wake Forest, Elon, Furman, Duke, UNC, and UVa, then spent the night in the Boro (which is about half-way between Charlottesville and Tampa). Ali's a smart gal, you see; and she has choices. I'm fairly sure she's never made anything but an "A" in any class she's taken, and her S.A.T. scores got her an invite to apply to all sorts of schools, including Yale. Yeah, yeah, but more impressive still...


...is that she proudly sports earrings inspired by Harry's Potter's "Deathly Hallows".

Fun with Food.

Friday and Saturday the local National Guard Armory building was home to a "Pack-a-Thon" sponsored by Colleton County based charitable organization Haiti Under God. Teams of 17 people per team trekked to the armory to assemble ready-to-boil "one pot meal" bags consisting of rice, soy, vitamins and veggies, and pack them into Haiti-bound crates. St. Jude's team was one of six teams at the Saturday Noon to Two shift.

First, we had to get orientated. The crowed gathered just past some already assembled boxes to learn the procedure. Lots of kind souls showed up to share in the fun. In addition to the people to assemble and pack the food, each team had to pony-up more than a thousand dollars to pay for the shipping and other costs associated with getting it to the people in Haiti who need it.

There are Methodists in this madness! Newly elected Walterboro City Councilman Bobby Bonds and his family joined other members from his church to help out. Note the hair-nets. Bobby probably didn't mind it so much, but son Jack looks a little less enthralled by this sartorially un-splendid, but necessary, accessory...

...but St. Jude's Susan McConnell and Tom Lohr know how to rock a hair-net!

Then the fun begins. Boxes are assembled; labels applied to bags; bins of rice, soy, vitamin and veggies are brought to the tables; scoops of the various ingredients are dumped into funnels and into bags, sealed, and weighed; the bags are packed into boxes, which are marked by table and facility where the packing is done;

the boxes are weighed, taped shut, and loaded onto pallets; the pallets are sealed up and fork-lifted onto a truck to be sent to port; where they will be shipped to Port Au Prince, Haiti.

At the end, we all said a prayer over one of the crates, and let the next shift take over.

Sounds like a lot of work, doesn't it? Maybe it was, but it was also a lot of fun. Can't wait to do it again next year. Take a look at the action in the little clip below:

The Air that I Breathe.

This article's from the Post and Courier got me thinking about the Hollies' song.



They sure sounded better than they looked!1970's Neil Diamond called the lead singer and wants his hair back.


Come to think of it, present day Neil Diamond called 1970's Neil Diamond and wants his hair back. Me? I just want decent air to breathe (okay, and maybe my 1970's hair!).

Mr. Magoo.

One of the things about getting, you know, older that is not all that great is you don't see so well. I've had bifocals for about four years now, but I've only recently started to wear them. Trees, as it happens, have leaves. I knew this instinctively, of course, and I have memories of leaves; however, I've only recently been reacquainted with leaves on account of the glasses. No more Magoo for SuperDave.

Harry Potter, Ecclesiastes, and Mushrooms.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens". I've quoted from Ecclesiastes before, and I probably will again. What's got me going on the circle of life this time is Harry Potter and mushrooms. Lady Di and I caught the last Harry Potter on Saturday night (I know, all the real Potter-philes caught it at the Thursday/Friday Midnight show, but I had to work). I loved it, as I knew I would; but I was sad, as I knew I would be. I've read all the books at least twice, and I've seen all the movies more than that (except the last one, which I'd only seen once), so I knew that it had to end and I knew how it would end.

Still, endings are are sad, even if, as Semisonic said a decade ago, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end".

World Changers.

When the Israelites cried out for help in Egypt, God sent them Moses; when a local family with a rotten roof and no way to pay to fix it needed help, God sent them 15 teenage kids and three adult chaperons from a couple of churches in North Carolina. The World Changers arrived in the Boro on Tuesday. This crew is spending a good chunk of their Summer vacation camping out in a school gym at night, and battling a heat index of about 124 degrees to strip off the old shingles, replace the rotten wood, and begin to put on new tar paper and shingles on a house in the Boro during the day. The least we could do is feed them.

My church, St. Jude's, has a long tradition of Community Outreach. I've posted our Thanksgiving Feast, and our "Whale of a Sale". Jim, Doug, Lady Di, Gale, Kim and her daughter, and I got lunch going today. We got an assist from Nick Martin, at left, packing apples.


Lady Di resembles neither a Packer nor a (w)rapper, but today, she was both.


After we got the lunches packed up, we left the safe confines of St. Jude's, and headed for the work site.


Jim doled out the food and drinks to a grateful bunch.

We only spent an hour or so for our part. These cool customers don't get off for a few more hours. Thank you, World Changers!

Killer Tunes.

I was jamming to some Pop music on Sirius Radio the other day, and tuned in to a catchy tune. It was "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster the People. It even had whistling. Now, a tune with whistling has got to be good clean fun, right? Uh, not exactly. I looked up the lyrics and the song is about a kid that goes on a killing spree. This is not a new phenomenon: Warren Zevon did it in the 1970's with "Excitable Boy"; The Talking Heads did it in the 1980's with "Psycho Killer"; Pearl Jam did it in the 90's with "Jeremy". Oh, well, like they say, "Guns don't kill people; songs about guns kill people". Sumpin' like that...

Schadenfreude.

I'll admit it: sometimes I take pleasure in other peoples' misfortune. The German word for it is schadenfreude. I'm not proud of it, but I take some solace in knowing I have lots of company. Don't believe it? How do you explain the success of these guys? My most recent jolt of schadenfreude came this weekend on the Interstate. I was cruising down I-26, just loving life, when this high dollar black Lexus zipped in front of me, and sped into the distance. I've been known to exceed the legal speed limit on occasion; consequently, I do not always see the S.C.H.P. as my friends, but on this day I was rooting for the Troopers to catch this dude. About a half hour later, to my glee, I saw the Lexus pulled over by a County Sheriff's deputy. And balance in the universe was restored.

There's Always Room for Cello.

Friday Lady Di and I trekked to North Charleston to see David Gray in concert. We've been to three shows at the North Charleston Performing Arts Center: Indigo Girls, Celtic Women and this one. Compare this to the shows I saw with my kids: AC/DC, Tom Petty, My Chemical Romance, Green Day. Hmm. Seems I'm trending Adult Contemporary of late. No matter. David Gray was great. I knew of Gray's circa 2000 hit "Babylon", but have only been following his recent music from Sirius/XM's "Coffee House". I knew Gray's voice would be sonorous, but I was very pleasantly surprised at how good his band was. There were guitars- acoustic, electric, steel and bass, piano, drums, bass violin, and, surprisingly, a cello. The music blended quite nicely into a genre defying blend of pop/rock/folk/electric/jazz. Whatever it was, it was good. The music was excellent. The songs were well written and well sung. The lighting highlighted the songs. The narratives between songs were even interesting. Gray, it seems, is British. This was not a problem. In fact, he seemed to be representing the "cool" sect of Great Britain. In case you've forgotten, here's his first hit:

Monster!

I was pulling weeds at La Maison Jaune over the weekend, and I ran into this monster. It looked sorta like a flea, but this sucker was as big as a small cat (which reminded me of a David Bowie song, reflected in the second clip below).

It had a really long spiked tail, too!
Here's my trophy weed at left. It took me ages to get around that rootball and pull it up. I shot it with a silver bullet and ran a stake through it, just to be sure it wasn't coming back.





(My mom, by the way, was not a David Bowie fan, and that song left her a bit cold. Ah, well, what are you gonna do?).

Celebration!

Okay, so you probably heard that on Tuesday night the South Carolina Gamecocks won their second College World Series in two years. My FSU degree makes me generally sympathetic to the ACC, but I'll happily celebrate a Palmetto State victory. 'Course, around La Maison Jaune, there's an even bigger victory: The General Assembly overrode veto number 13, which would have eliminated funding for S.C. Area Health Education Centers. SC AHEC helps to bring young folks into health care careers, recruits health care providers into rural and underserved areas (such as Colleton County), and provides continuing education for medical professionals. AHEC employs many fine citizens, including, most notably in these parts, Lady Di. We're grateful to the General Assembly for helping to foster a better environment for medical providers (and for saving the jobs of quite a few deserving taxpayers!).

Making Mountains Out of, You Know...

I've ranted about squirrels, it's true; however, my antipathy for "tree rats" is nothing compared to the bile I've generated for moles. Gotta get Austin Powers on the job!

Out to Lunch.

I was briefly- very briefly- in Marine Officer Candidates School. Attention to detail, they hollered, could be the difference between life and death. Fortunately, daily life rarely offers such dire consequences for inattention.


Lady Di just spoke in Charleston to a national gathering of Health Administration professors.

Looks like a fair amount of work went into her name tag (and the "It's all about ME" is pretty funny). Sadly, they got her name and degree wrong: The name was accurate a year ago, but not currently, and her degree is a Master of Science, not of Arts (though I think she got an upgrade, she strongly disagrees).


Here's a lovely sentiment, beautifully painted, but... Well, all things are possible on a painted license tag, except spell-check.

Obvious Headline Alert, Part I

As opposed to what? Squid? Peanut butter?

A Guy Walks in to the Clemson Extension Service...

...and says, "I'm just starting a farm. I want to grow eggplants, but it doesn't seem to be working". "Tell me what you've been doing", the Agent requested. "Well", the Farmer said, "I went to the store and bought a dozen eggs. I dug twelve holes about four inches deep, and I buried 'em. I've been watering 'em regular, but so far, nothin'. What am I doin' wrong?", the Farmer asked. The agent pondered it for a minute, stroked his chin and said, "Well, first I'm gonna need a soil sample...".

By the way, this is NOT a Clemson joke. You can use any state's agricultural assistance program just as easily. Anyhow, I thought of that old joke as I savored Lady Di's eggplant parmigiana. Quarter-inch slices of eggplant dipped in an eggwash and breaded with a mixture of seasoned breadcrumbs and fresh-grated Parmesan cheese, sauteed in olive oil, and set in layers with tomato sauce made from tomatoes, garlic, onions, and herbs from the farmer's market in between. Sprinkle some Mozzarella on the top, bake for half an hour, and serve it on a bed of angel hair pasta. Good for what ails ya!

Signs, Chapter 12

I'm not sure I understand what all of the traffic signs mean. They're supposed to warn us of stuff, or tell us what to do, right? The one at left, for example: What, exactly, does it mean? Are they warning mean of something, or telling me what to do? I'm confused.
What am I supposed to do with this one? Do I even want to know?

Stormy.

Last night I was watching the Boston Bruins dismantle the Vancouver Canucks in the game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals, and I noticed a severe thunderstorm warning report banner across the bottom of my t.v. screen. Mother Nature had the decency to wait until after the game before unleasing strong winds and dumping lots of water on the Boro. The water is needed, as the Boro has been quite dry over the past month or so. The wind? Not so much. Anyway, I've posted some weather music in Blues, Country, Classic Rock and Hip-Hop. Surely there's something to like in there, no?

Shoes.

New shoes. Old video (still pretty funny, though you have to endure a comercial).

Try a Little Tenderloin.

We don't eat a lot of pork at the "Maison Jaune", but when we do, it's way good. Lady Di marinated this pork tenderloin in a mix of balsamic vinaigrette, dijon mustard, honey, sea salt and freshly ground pepper. A few minutes on the grill, add some squash with a little feta cheese and some basil from the garden, an ear of sweet Silver Queen corn from the farmer's market, and a nice glass of Pinot Noir (you say pork is the other white meat? Maybe, but this red paired quite nicely, thankyouverymuch), and you're all set. Did I mention that you could cut the tenderloin with a fork?

Pregnant Pause.

This has got to be a really tough month to be in the late stages of, you know, uh... Um, you know, when the stork is about to bring his surprise? Well, I guess it's not really that big a surprise. Anyway, Lady Di and I had popped in to the local unit of a large international super-center to pick up various and sundry items, and we noticed one of our fellow parishioners pushing an empty shopping cart and looking mildly agitated. She also appeared to be very nearly ready for a visit from said stork. The lady-for the purposes of this story, we'll call her Beth. This is convenient, because Beth is, in fact, her name- approach and Diane spoke to her. "Beth", Diane inquired, "What are you doing out and about this, uh, late?". After a few minutes of pleasant conversation, we got the gist of it: the stork is taking his own sweet time, and Beth was hoping that a walkabout would speed up the process. A walk was in order, but walking outside was not an option because it is really, really hot outside these days. This store is large enough for a good walk and, more importantly, it is air-conditioned. The empty shopping cart may well have been merely a prop, though we didn't broach the subject.

R.I.P. Tom McEwen.

My brother reported to me that retired Tampa Tribune sportswriter Tom_McEwen_died. The eulogy that I've linked notes that McEwen wielded considerable influence in the sporting world, and that he was instrumental in bringing professional soccer to Tampa, as well as football and hockey franchises. I remember his column, "The Morning After". I read it all the time in my youth. I remember how he used to write about what his wife had prepared for him for breakfast. He wrote things like, "Along with your freshly squeezed orange juice, and toasted English Muffin, these morsels..." Then he break into his story. I liked the stories too, of course, but it was his listing of what he'd had for breakfast that has stayed with me over the past forty years or so.

William Shakespeare, Franz Kafka, and Emilio Estevez Walk into a Bar...

Lady Di and I saw two of the plays featured at this year's Spoleto Festival: The Cripple of Inishmaan and "The Understudy". The Irish production of "The Cripple of Inishmaan" has gotten rave reviews in performances throughout the U.S. I haven't checked the reviews for "The Understudy", but I can tell you I enjoyed it immensely. Both plays focus on the absurdity and futility of life. You know: the meaning of life is that there is no meaning to life. That sort of stuff. The Understudy does it overtly, as it is centered around a play about Existentialist writer Franz_Kafka. The Cripple of Inishmaan doesn't refer to Existentialist writers, but, well, it's Irish, and absurdity is sort of in their DNA.

That got me thinking about some of my favorite existential quotes through history. Here is a sampling:

"For who knows what is good for a person in life, during the few and meaningless days they pass through like a shadow? Who can tell them what will happen under the sun after they are gone?" Ecclesiastes 6:12 (NIV)

You think that Bible verse might've influenced the World's greatest playwrite?

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

William Shakespeare, "Macbeth" Act 5, scene 5, 19–28

Charlie isn't the only of Martin Sheen's kids that's into absurdity and futility: AndyMan likes to quote Emilio Estevez (who was playing the role of William Bonney in Young Guns II, and has this discussion upon being cornered by folks that meant to kill him): "You remember the stories John use to tell us about the the three chinamen playing Fantan? This guy runs up to them and says, "Hey, the world's coming to an end!" and the first one says, "Well, I best go to the mission and pray," and the second one says, "Well, hell, I'm gonna go and buy me a case of Mezcal and six whores," and the third one says "Well, I'm gonna finish the game." I shall finish the game, Doc."

Today's "Luanne" comic strip has a nice spin on team existentialism:



What's the meaning of life? Douglas Adams told us the answer in "The Life, The Universe, and Everything":



You guys do what you like. As for me? I shall finish the game.