Performing Death Defying Acts.

I stopped defending the public long enough on Tuesday morning to get my CPR card. Actually, Lady Di, whose Lowcountry Area Health Education Center (AHEC) in partnership with Eat Smart/Move More, sponsored the class, points out that the certification is "Heartsaver, CPR and AED". C.P.R., as you may know, stands for Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation. AED means Automated External Defibrillator. Heartsaver... well, you know what that means.


Our instructor, Richard Harvey, did his best to lighten his load as Colleton County's Coroner. Rich did a fine job, and has begun his quest to have Colleton County approach Seattle's ratio of one CPR certified citizen in three. Lofty, but today's turnout was encouraging.

It was Valentine's Day, and my lovely Lady Di was mouth-to-mouth with this dummy. I'd've torn him limb from limb, but he (or she. You really can't tell), didn't have any.

I got some measure of revenge by compressing the life back into the bum...

We also got to learn how to use an A.E.D. Dana Cheney seemed to take way too much glee in pressing the "Shock" button. Sorry, Dana, these one's aren't live.

More classes are promised for the future. Shoot, if I can do it, you can, too!

The New John Deere

I just got a new mower. It's Deere to me. Lots of songs about it, too.

Two Sheds are Better than One.

I mentioned in yesterday's poor orphan shirt post that I've been working on a junior shed to go with Diane's big shed. When Lowe's delivered the box, I was perplexed: the box was hardly bigger than I am. How you gonna get a shed outta this? For being mechanically disinclined, I sure do get myself into a lot of "Mr. Fix-it" jams.

Maybe my buddy, Dana, can figure it out. Reading the directions? Is that even allowed?

Really, it's all about the toolbelt and hat (and Lady Di's hamburgers, of course).

After the first foray, which included a trip to the building supply store, and several trips to Ace Hardware, we got the foundation figured out.

On day two, we started to get some walls up.

Friend Gale, ever competent and always in motion, stopped in to the shed raising.

Dana teased my poor little cordless screwdriver. Yeah, well, "I'm rubber, you're glue..."

At the end of day two, we had the walls up, but I'd lost Dana and Gale for the duration. They were a huge help, but I'd have to soldier on by my lonesome.

Daylight Savings Time is tough in the morning, but I did have enough daylight after work on Monday to finish the roof. I'd leave the doors for another day.

I finally finished yesterday.

I wonder why they gave me all these extra parts?

All cleaned up and ready to load. Just call me David "Two Sheds" Mathews.

The Red Rocker

FYI: I'm not a DIY guy. I've mentioned this before. For some folks, the maxim "If you want something done right, do it yourself" is Gospel. Not so for SD. If I want something done right, I'll recruit somebody.
Still, I am a man, and I'm pretty sure the "Dude Code" requires that I try to do some things myself. I looked at the dull rocking chairs on our front porch, and suggested to Lady Di that we paint them. "White paint would look nice", opined Diane. "Ah, yes, Diane, but is not the theme of Walterboro's Chamber of Commerce "The Front Porch of the Lowcountry"?", I asked. "Why yes, Dear Husband", replied my Distaff Half. "And is not the symbol of this campaign a red rocking chair?", I pressed. Diane sighed heavily, and ultimately agreed that it was our duty to the Boro to paint the rocking chairs red.
.So, we checked our supply of sanding blocks, some white primer, brushes, tarps, cans, and mineral spirits, and supplemented our stock with several cans of Krylon "Banner Red" spraypaint at the local edition of a national discount super-store.

Then we sanded, brushed and sprayed throughout the day. Our work was not perfect, but it wasn't too bad, either, and we got our red rockers.

I'm Your Handyman, Redux.

Over the weekend, I was elected by our church vestry as junior warden. Even though the Canons of the Church and of the Diocese don't distinguish much between the duties of the senior and junior wardens, by tradition the senior warden is concerned more about polity, and the junior warden more about making sure the doors and toilets are working properly. Our last Junior Warden, Paul, did an outstanding job. He called the position "a glorified handyman"Ah, the handymen through T.V. history: Schneider from One Day at a Time.
George from Newhart.
Eb from Green Acres.
I'm not even as "ept" as the most inept of these. I'm not handy. I don't build things, and I don't generally fix things (when I was in private practice, I used to be able to fix traffic tickets, but I can't even do that anymore). So why, one could reasonably ask, would any rational parish want me as the Junior Warden of my church? Well, I do know a fair amount about the Episcopal Church, and I care about it a bunch. I also care a lot about my church, St. Jude's. Maybe I'm supposed to interpret the position broadly, as the Canons of the parish and Diocese do. As to the nuts and bolts? A couple of my friends, Gale and Leonard, promised to help (and and I made sure Paul kept his keys).

Reflections on Turning Fifty.

I turned fifty a few days ago. After my old buddy Russ did it five months ago, I figured that this might happen to me. My fiance, the lovely Lady Di, bought me a super-duper chair, and put together an amazing party for me, too. My brother, the Amazing AndyMan, came up from Tampa, as did high school buddies Phil and Terrie. My oldest (non-relative) friend, Russ, and his girlfriend, and his mom (who, as I've mentioned not a few times in this space, is my "second mom"), Frandy, drove up from Panama City, FL. My running partner, Kevin, and his fiance made it, along with lots of friends from Church and out and about (I'll post more pictures on FaceBook, if you wanna look). An early rain burned off, and the weather was perfect. Lots of food, music, and camaraderie were made possible by the hard work and planning of my true love, Diane. Out of a slew of blessings for which I am grateful, Diane is my greatest.



I love you, Baby.

A Ministry of Cleaning Out Refrigerators.

Although the primary source of my distinctly non-subtle sense of humor was my wild and crazy dad, my mom (well, mine and AndyMan's mom) could be a pretty funny person, too. A few years after mom joined the Sisters of the Transfiguration, I went up to the Convent in Glendale, Ohio, to visit. She was taking her turn cleaning the kitchen, and opined to me and the remainder of those present that she had a special "ministry of cleaning out refrigerators". When the Apostle Paul talked about the special gifts doled out to the faithful, he may not have specifically mentioned a ministry of cleaning out refrigerators, but I chalk that up to the extensive lag time between his ministry and the invention of the refrigerator.

I've listed The Manor for sale, and it has been pointed out to me that a disgusting refrigerator, in the current economy, is not conducive to a quick real estate sale. My refrigerator qualified as disgusting, so I figured it was time to give it a bath.

So I did.

Hey, that's a good looking refrigerator!

Now I just gotta get some food.

Notorious, again.

I've been a notary pretty much since I've been a lawyer. It helps mostly for formalizing documents, such as affidavits, to have a notary commission myself without having to hunt down someone else to witness stuff. As long as you don't have a criminal record, they're pretty easy to get. Drop off an application to your state's legislative delegation with a nominal check for processing, and - viola! - you're all set to get people married or formalize a will. I've been kinda busy, of late, so I managed to let my commission lapse. Anyway, just last week I reapplied. Got my appointment back yesterday. Huzzah to Senator Matthews (no relation, except through Adam and Eve) and Representative Bowers for the very quick turnaround.

Teacher, Teacher.

My "Friendly Adversary", Jay, is the Agent-in-Charge of Probation in the Boro. In addition to our generally opposing roles in probation violation cases, his office is right downstairs from the Public Defender's Office, so we see each other a lot. We have our various jobs to do, but we respect each other, and I count him among my friends. In addition to his "day job", he teaches a criminal justice class at the local branch of the University of South Carolina (that would be USC-Salkahatchee). I'll admit it: I'm jealous. Mom told me that our family tree was ripe with "preachers, teachers, and lawyers". I'm a lawyer. Brother Andy is a teacher. I've occasionally felt drawn to both teaching and preaching. Wednesday night, Jay gave me a chance to do a little of both by letting me give a criminal defense perspective to his class.


I quoted liberally from The Torah, the Gospel according to Matthew, The Book of Susanna from the Apocrypha, and Jay Z. I pointed out that the Bible contains at least a couple of wrongful convictions: In addition to Jesus' Kangaroo court conviction, Joseph had been wrongly convicted of doing his master's wife. I also spoke of how good lawyering got Susanna off of a frame-up job, and how Jay Z could complain about profiling in the second verse of 99 Problems(even though his "trunk was raw"- i.e.: he was, in fact, transporting narcotics). Looky there! Preacher, teacher AND lawyer.

Okay, I deserved this.

Had a couple of Wild Blue blueberry lagers today. I wanted some sort of celebration for running 20 miles yesterday. Did I say run? Perhaps that's a bit too strong a term for yesterday's performance. I'd've been under twelve minute miles if I hadn't walked one and a half of the final three miles. Still, I covered twenty miles. I figure that's got to be worth something. Right?

I'm Your Handy Man, Redux

Fixing stuff and putting stuff together is not in my DNA. What I fear my kids have learned from late night Christmas Eves sneaking a look at Santa Claus putting together Christmas toys is that Santa is unafraid to use the Lord's name in vain- especially on his birthday. Still, the household resident arrangements appear to be changing (the Lads are moving out, and their older sister is moving in), so the household configuration has got to be changed. Caroline'll get the Twins' room; I'll have to create another bedroom, since the house only came with two. Space is at a premium, so a loft for a twin bed and a futon for multi-use underneath in a little alcove off the big room seems to be the answer. Problem is, nobody sells this stuff delivered and put together anymore (well, not at a price I'm willing to pay, anyhow). So, how did I spend my Fourth?

What is all this crap?

This an "N" or a "Z"? List of parts doesn't have either, though they do refer to in later in the instructions.

Looks like I'm building a car or sumpin'.

Well, looky there! Success. Doesn't look too bad, and it seems my gamble that the futon would fit under the twin bed paid off.

Now I just gotta deal with this.

Run, Joey, Run.

I've been running a little, lately. I use my Nike + i-Pod to keep me company and to keep up with my mileage. The Nike Plus website links to GoogleEarth, so you can map out your run. Cool, huh? This is, more or less, the route that I ran. I had to guess a little on the trail across Ivanhoe, but the mileage is about right.

Just over five miles. The pace was slow (okay, I walked the last quarter mile. Hey, it still counts), but I burned more than 800 calories. Great! Now I can have pie! Wait. I've got this bet with my brother. Let's check his blog to see how much he ran. Aha! 4.7 miles. Shoot, I got him beat! Wait. Waddya mean 47 miles... Now I'm depressed. I think I'll go eat some pie.

25 Things.

Got a Facebook thing where you get tagged and are supposed to list 25 things about yourself. A little self-indulgent, perhaps, but since I've already done it, I figured I might as well post it. Might as well destroy the tiny bit of dignity I had left.

25 things.

1. When I was a lad, my pop always told me I was born next to a little Indian child in Billings, Montana. My birth certificate confirms only the Billings, Montana part.

2. Mostly, I love being a public defender. Mostly.

3. I ran for the South Carolina statehouse in 2000, and lost by 150 or so votes, out of about 15,000.

4. Being a dad is my favorite thing in the whole world. I've got four kids. Three boys and a girl, and my identical 13 yoa twins live with me.

5. I've read the Bible almost every night of my life since I was in fifth grade. I've probably read it though four or five times. I've read the Apocrypha twice.

6. I've probably broken six of the Ten Commandments, but I'm not telling which six.

7. My mom was a nun.

8. My dad was not a nun.

9. My brother is an amazing ultra-runner and a really good teacher and father.

10. I tried to write a novel once. It was truly awful.

11. I wrestled and played football in college. I was a decent football player, but a bad wrestler.

12. I'm really bad with money.

13. I never drink more than three drinks a day (but sometimes I pour 'em big).

14. I've lost a home to foreclosure.

15. As a public defender, I've never had a client convicted of murder after trial (4 and 0 here. 1 and 0 in Beaufort). That'll change eventually.

16. I washed out of Marine Officer Candidate School at age 27. I'm a lot of things, but not a Marine.

17. I've been on my church vestry twice, I've taught Sunday School, I've been a Cub Scout leader, I've served on a First Steps Board for Early Childhood Development, I've volunteered teaching a debate team for high school kids.

18. I've been divorced for eight years after being married for 14.

19. I was expelled from school in 6th and 7th grade, and cut school at least ten times a quarter in eighth grade.

20. I don't practice law in federal court; I hate business law and office practice, and mostly don't understand tax law.

21. Among the cases I've won on appeal was a Federal Court of Appeals case, Collins Holding Corporation v. Jasper County, which is a business licence tax case.

22. My favorite movie is "My Cousin Vinny".

23. My favorite song is "Copperhead Road".

24. I love to eat.

25. I hope to complete a marathon in 2009.

You want dignity? Here you go:

We interupt this Smackdown to bring the following...

I went to the doctor's for a check-up today. Those bastards made me get on a scale. Now, my brother, the Amazing Ultra-marathon runner, AndyMan, recently blogged about his holiday weight gain up to 192 fairly solid pounds. Geez, what a lightweight. Like Jack Palance's character told Billy Crystal's character on City Slickers, "I crap bigger'n you". I've picked up 16 absolutely unnecessary pounds in the last three months, bringing the ungodly total to 246 freakin' pounds. This is not considered torture to the scale at the present time, but when Leon Pannetta becomes the CIA chief... well, let's just say I've got some life-style changes to make. I've already mentioned in comments in Star's blog, I've resolved to run a marathon in 2009. Reckon I'd better get to it. Like it or not, I'll bring you more Neil tomorrow. In the interim, this cartoon intro reminded me of me.

Sew, A Needle Pulling Thread.

First of all, let me explain that I'll be watching- vigorously watching- college football later today. Aight? Okay, if we're clear on that, I'll cop to sewing last night. I'm really not sure which is worse: that I was sewing; or that I was sewing on a Friday night. Anyway, I lost a button on a shirt that wasn't yet in tatters. This isn't a very expensive shirt, but it had extra buttons on the bottom of the shirt-tail, so I assumed you're not just supposed to throw it away if you lose a button. I hate clothes shopping anyway, so I figure I'll take five minutes and sew on one of those extra buttons they give you. Wait. I don't have a sewing kit (at least there's that). Sew... er, "so" I scooted up to Walgreen's and picked up the cheapest kit they had- three dollars and fiddy cent.
To work I go. Ah, here it is. Hmmm. So-so sewing at best. Gas, time and money for the kit. And Belk's is having a sale. Now I am depressed. Maybe the Kids in the Hall can make it all better:

I'm Your Handyman.

I'm not handy. I've mentioned this before. An open truck or car hood may look seductive to various and sundry shade tree mechanics. To me?
More like this.

Still, sometimes stuff needs to be done and there just isn't anyone else around to do it. A truck I'd borrowed encountered a serious, major, epic problem: the cigarette lighter plug (okay, they call them "accessory outlets" now, but my whole life they've been cigarette lighters, okay?) was busted. I'm not gonna shoulder the blame if my friend can't charge her cellphone, knowudImean? With my amazing ability to discern the obvious, I decided it was a fuse. Well, I don't want to brag or anything, but I CHANGED THE FUSE! All by myself. Like a big boy. Maybe it even works now. Okay, that wasn't such a great story. Maybe you'll like this one better: