The Prodigal Son Returns.

Oldest son, his fiance, and their dog, just returned to the Palmetto State from South Korea (they may not forgive me- well, the dog (in the yellow tote) will- for using this photo of the quite road-weary warriors at left). Davis had been gone for more than two years. It's great to see him. His sibs are happy to see him, too, but it's not difficult to pick up a subtle "what's the big deal?" vibe. Reminds me of a story: In the parable of the Prodigal Son , Jesus relates the story of an irresponsible kid who cashed out his inheritance, and went abroad,  leaving his brother to continue to tend to the family business. After wasting all the money on wild living, he found himself starving, and he returned  home. He expected to be rejected by his pop, but his dad was just glad to see him. No lectures; just a big celebration. Prodigal's brother was not pleased. He'd been responsible, hadn't he? Dad didn't throw him any party. He'd been working his tail off, and he railed about how unfair it all was. Pop tells him he appreciated all the good son did, but not to be so hard on his brother: he was lost, but now he's back home. The parable is widely cited as a tale of redemption and forgiveness of the wayward child, and of God's unexpected and unearned mercy toward each of us. We're all that child from time to time... but we're also the good son sometimes, aren't we? We can be jealous of unexpected, and unearned, mercy given to others. So, cheer for the Prodigal Son, but pray for his brother, too!

I Want My Baby Bok.

Normally I oppose child labor and imports from China, but I must say this baby bok choy worked well in Lady's Di's most recent stir-fry. For what it's worth, we got a big sackful of produce from the local farmer's market to keep this little fella company. So bok off, m'kay?

Some Days are Diamonds; Some Days are Rocks... or Stone... or Rust.

I got my car, Duke, a nice spot at the Coastal Electric Co-op annual meeting on Saturday. Ah, it's nice to have that "nose out" parking job, when you're the lead car in a stack of two! ...unless, of course, it turns out that you're the middle car- the ONLY middle car- in a single column of three. That, actually, kind of sucks.

Life's like that, though: some days are diamonds; some days are rocks.

Triple Crown Me!

Miguel Cabrera has done something that hasn't been done since the Sox' Yaz did it in 1967: he had a better batting average, had more home runs and more runs batted in than anybody else in the American League.I'm a Johnny-come-lately to baseball. My brother, the Amazing AndyMan, was always a baseball fan. I wasn't a great fan, largely because I wasn't a very good baseball player. Football? No problem. A guy might outweigh me by fifty pounds, but I knew I had lots of gear on, and I could hit him back. In baseball, you're just wearing regular clothes. A guy would throw a ball right at you, and if you couldn't hit it- which I could do only rarely- you'd just have to let him. I didn't play it well, and I didn't originally enjoy watching it, because baseball games moved too slowly to suit me. Andy tried to inform me about the rhythm of the season, about streaks and back stories, but for years I remained indifferent to America's pastime. Prior to the advent of the Tampa Bay Ray's, Tampa's "local" team was the Atlanta Braves. The Braves were useless for years, but got good in the 1990's, and I jumped on the Braves bandwagon. I've enjoyed watching baseball ever since. My bride, on the other hand, grew up in Dearborn, Michigan, as an avid Detroit Tigers fan. We struck a deal early on: she'd root for my Florida State Seminoles and the Braves, if I'd root for her Tigers and the Michigan State Spartans. As a bonus, I get to root for the Detroit Red Wings in hockey, if there ever is hockey again. We're free-lancers in professional Football: I can root for the Bucs, and she can root for the Lions as we please. But I digress... It's been a pleasure to root for the Tigers. I even caught a Tigers game in Comerica Park this year. Imagine my thrill to be rooting for a team that has produced the first Triple Crown batter in 45 years!

Odds and Ends.

St. Jude's just had its bi-annual rummage sale this Saturday gone. Piles of stuff that meant, and may still mean, something to the folks that drop them off. But, as comedian Steven Wright once noted, "You can't have everything. Where would you put it?". True, that. So what do you do with the odds and ends in life? You can take them to the rummage sale, I suppose. Then someone else can stuff them in a kitchen drawer with the eye-glass repair kits and crazy glue. Maybe. Or maybe, you can sneak them back into your own junk drawer, then one day when you're looking, perhaps you can even find 'em again.

Slap, Happy.

Tyler's had a full dance-card, of late. Rather fortuitous that Tyler got his yellow belt, given how the Bishop concluded Tyler's confirmation. Rather reminds one of this classic scene from Airplane!

Yellow.

My boy, Tyler (he's the dude to the far right in the picture at left), has been marshaling his arts, of late. He's been punching, kicking and grappling along (his twin, Taylor, has just started mixed martial arts training. Karl Douglas, he of "Kung Fu Fighting" fame, would be so proud). Tyler started Jiu Jitsu not too long back, and just earned his first belt: a yellow belt. The lad's smart and tough, and I have no doubt there will be a full palette of belts coming his way; but it starts with white, then yellow.


 A bunch of musicians have trended yellow, too: Coldplay gets right to the point: Donovan's brand of yellow was more laid back: The Beatles got nautical with it. Kingston Trio- Gave us the bird. Joni Mitchell put her yellow on a Big Taxi: That's a lot of yellow, right there. Wonder if I missed any?