TERROR ALERT LEVEL:

December 2007
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Same guy, different krep...
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Yes, I'm reading this now

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All commentary Copyright Stonestead.com, 2007. No part may be reproduced without permission. All statements within are the express view of the author and not necessarily those of his employeer, his clergy, his spouse, his friends or even himself.

I have to go into the office tomorrow morning. Big Whoop, right? Well, it will be for me. I've been out of the office for about 10 days now - on leave that was approved back in February by a man who is no longer in my chain of command - and have used most of that time to charter our possessions from one spot to another. Namely, I've been moving stuff from storage into our garage. But that's only half the story...

We currently have our stuff in 5 different locations. 6, perhaps, depending on how you count it. Still, aside from our new home we have things in 4 other places. And it's not like those 4 places are adjacent units in the same facility; not by a long shot -- they're spread out all over all regions of town.

The good news is that we're roughly 90% out of 3 of those 4 locations and, if I'm released early tomorrow for the Holiday, I'll swing by and pick up the last of those items and tell the office that we're done with paying them $110 per month for the use of their closet. (The question of whether this means I'll be "coming out of the closet" tomorrow will remain unanswered no matter how impassioned your pleas).

The bad news - perhaps - is that just as I look forward to an early release tomorrow, I'm making sure I have an early release tonight. Not to try and weasel my way into it, but I've moved more cubic feet of stuff in the past few days than rosie o'donnel does on her average visit to a Carl's Jr. drive-thru...

OK, that might have been cruel. I don't actually know for sure that she favors Carl's Jr. over McDonald's or Pizza hut...

Well, I already told you about the rogue out there who was opening our garage door and how I secured the perfect solution to the problem, so I won't bother with that again. Other than to recommend the device in the most strident of tones: GO BUY ONE NOW!!

And I'll pass over the obvious pains that come with every move; 'my stuff isn't here and the stuff that is here is either in boxes - which are in the way of moving in other stuff - or is out of the boxes and lying on the counters, which interferes with daily life!' That sort of thing. It's just so dull. (Not that the rest of this won't be, mind you)

We weren't a week into the new place... Wait! That's an understatement to say the least; Just a couple of nights under the new roof and well within the umbrella of the "Holiday Spirit" I discovered the true meaning of "locked out." We had replaced the knob and deadbolt and had adjusted to the idea of twin sliding glass doors that opened onto the back deck and accepted the idea that something would eventually have to be done about the fact that we had no remote garage door openers and came to realize that each and every window had not one, but TWO locked panes of glass.

It all added up to an interesting 12 minutes of my life where I tried to break into my new home by any means possible while a city cop responded to a call in the neighborhood. Just two doors down, as it turns out and all the better for me that the call didn't go out about some strange doofus trying to break into a vacant house.

Although, that would have given me the opportunity to see if the city/county jail has wireless access, right?

What might have added insult to injury is the fact that after successfully "breaking" into our home I heard The Wif tell her sister something to the effect that, "sometimes marrying someone with a criminal background pays off." To which I immediately objected: I mean, 17 arrests (by my count, so I could be wrong) and NO convictions is still a clean record.

I'll force a retraction from her later...

Another hassle I've encountered is newspapers. They seem to be everywhere! But after a short bit of research I think I have the answer: they print a new one every night and deliver it every morning. This is a curious development and I hope to eventually get to the bottom of it if only to bring the whole process online. If such a thing is possible.

I'll get back to you on that...

And of Christmas Lights we will discuss little. All of ours are currently in storage and the new home is ashamedly dark. But things change and our things will change and next Christmas will be a new Christmas and we'll fight the war with the neighbors then.

And for the record? This seems to be a neighborhood concentrated on inflatables. Just wait until they get a load of this home and its thousands of lights next year...

In spite of all our differences and diversions and problematic encounterances, you are now "hearing" me live once again.

Lucky you...

We are not only -- finally -- in our new home, but we've been here for a couple of nights. Which is just long enough to experience a few series of traumatic adventures. Such as:

Me leaving the office without a complete Take-Out Menu from Dino's. After all, I spent a great deal of time and attention and money there in years past, so how did I escape without a menu that persists to this day, (unless it's in that drawer that continues to follow me around without ever clearly defining itself?)

My grand achievement today was that I walked into a Sears retail establishment and eventually purchased a "Universal" garage door opener "converter" that promised to turn each and every garage door opener into a tamed version of the Sears' openers' version of the world.

But what do I care? So long as the door opens when I want it to open and closes when I tell it to close, right? Well, the frightening thing is that at least 3 times before we took possession of the new home we drove by to find the garage door open. And that kind of freaked me out.

Oh, it's likely that similar - DEFAULT - frequencies are at play here, but that's not enough to set me aside from my task: We MUST MOVE.

And so we have, finally...

It's way too late around here and on several levels; We're not yet out of the house. We may not be out on time. We may never be out, and we have months of work before us but will be charged $300 per day starting this evening. So we're at least motivated, I suppose...

And to add injury to insult - or what should be the true rendition of that phrase - I'm sick as a dog. And separated from my family but surrounded by our animals, which is an interesting turn of events, frankly and one I find just a bit too appropriate at this time.

At any rate, things are going to be very, VERY up in the air as the week progresses; I may be able to continue with some form of content more significant than the brief update I'm offering right now, but then again, I may be completely unable to connect to anything other than a respirator. Only time will tell, I suppose.

Please bear with me during this time of transition/illness but don't knock yourself out checking in on this site every hour (like anyone would -- such an ego!!). Things will be what they will be and if I'm only able to continue my online presence (such as it is) with the start of the new year, then so be it.

I'm at peace with my circumstance. Which is to say that I have faith that my 15 regular readers will check in and perhaps even catch up once I'm able to do the same. I'm turning out the lights now.

See you on the other side. Whenever/wherever that may be...

As I wrote that title, I had a specific meme in mind. But as I start to write this, I realize that it might well also apply to a very real, physical condition I'm currently experiencing; Zombie-itis. Oh, it's not in the DSM IV but it's real all the same and I'm on the short list of people who should be hospitalized from severe infection.

I'm having a difficult time focusing and containing my mental efforts. I'm "ADD Boy" as The Wif calls me when I'm unable to complete even the simplest of tasks. Hell - I'm not even sure what day/date it is, as astute readers noted yesterday. (But I did manage to pull off a single coup: Code Monkey didn't call me on the length and alignment of my horizontal rules and how their appearance recently has differed wildly from the page's design. So I got THAT goin' for me...)

As for what I intended to write, well... The initial plan was that we'd be out of the house by now, and we're not. I'm more than a little ticked at that, frankly, but there's just so much I can do about it right now. The good news is that we have until 1800 on Wednesday to be completely out of here. The bad news is that we may need each and every minute of that time to make it so.

Oh how I hope that's not the case, but that's what it's looking like at the moment.

To further complicate things, I hadn't seen my kids since Friday evening, before this evening. They've been staying at Grandma's which means that we'll have to undergo some intensive re-training once we're all back together again. And that couldn't be soon enough for my tastes.

I did get to visit with them briefly this evening - I brought and cooked frozen lasagne, Italian sausage and garlic bread in honor of The Binkster's birthday, (his favorite meal), and was lifted to new heights as he hugged me, head-butted me and refused to leave my arms. It was equally fulfilling when "M" said that she was happy to see - and had missed - both her Mommy AND her Daddy.

And when I sat on the couch with my arm around D-Man as we talked? A priceless trifecta...

Alas, I had to leave far too soon and now find myself completely alone - save the beasts - at my makeshift computer desk. It's strange, because this is my normal situation for most nights; I sit with my back to the glowing screen of the television (The Twilight Zone, usually), and try to bang something out here as The Wif sleeps in her recliner.

I can't tell you how often I've imagined her asleep in her chair tonight, but she's with the kids. I tried to tell myself that she's not here because I can't hear her snores but guess what? Her dumb little dog snores, too.

So I guess I'm not completely alone, but it sure feels like it right now. I hope we can move up the date of the closing, because even sleeping on mattresses on the floor would beat this.

Maybe we'll have a family campout in the living room. Somehow that just sounds right...

Well, before we go crazy here, let me just say that today is the date that sees a new two-year-old enter our home; since today is The Binkster's second birthday. Yesterday, as it turned out, was the only day - until one year from now at this time - that there isn't a two-year-old in our family.

So we got THAT going for us...

More importantlly, I belive that the MOVE weighs more upon us than any other factor. Even that of Christmas itstelf. And those beliefs therefore dictate my actions as the day to come follow...

We have a strong "feeling" as to where we'll end up. Let's see if it actually happens...

Such a day, I feel as if I have to share. So I will...

Wednesday night I was gently and graciously reminded of the fact that our older kids would be participating in a Christmas Presentation. Being the ever-wise Techno-Guru that I am, I quickly put to work at setting things right.

Namely, I knew that the camera battery was in its last quarter of operational capacity and I - being one who is loathe to recharge things before their time - set about discharging the battery by filming 20 minute movies of the drapes in the dining room. For such is my way, and I figured that as I filled the card and depleted the battery, I could clear the former and charge the latter. Until I realized that I was a complete moron, because the battery charger was in storage, as well as the drawer which holds it and the cabinet in which the drawer fits.

All in storage, and therefore unreachable. And here set in absolute panic...

I knew what I needed: I needed a battery charger that I couldn't put my hands on. Or, I needed a new, fully charged battery, but Federal regs prohibited that. So I was back where I started...

And so I searched the web for my battery type and found a quick-charge unit at a store that I could visit over my lunch break without further complications, and I bought it in an "online" sort of sense. Only to get there and discover that not only couldn't they find it, they didn't even have a single instance of the item and I was expected to walk away happy at the loss of time and effort and money (refund to follow).

Instead, I implored the manager to let me walk away with the God-given gift that came in the form of the testy guy behind me who was returning the exact same camera I'd bought last July. And therefore had the exact same battery-type and battery charger and was exacly what I was looking for, if not for the fact that it wasn't a "quick" charge setup. For which I'd paid $70 American.

But the cost was of no concern to me: I needed the charger I'd "bought" even if it wasn't available. Even if no other option was available, I needed that charger. I had a dying battery at home and the charger was in such a state that it could take a week of my own effort to reach it.

In the end, he relented and basically "lent" me the use of the charger. It's not something he's supposed to do, but I kind of caught the nod and reconciled the language and I now know that he did me a Solid and I owe him at least that in return.

Oh, sweet Mercy - did I just use 'solid' as a verb...?!?!?!!?

J.O.T.W...

A young technician and his General Manager board a train headed through the mountains on its way to Wichita. They can find no place to sit except for two seats right across the aisle from a young woman and her grandmother.

After a while, it is obvious that the young woman and the young tech are interested in each other because they are giving each other "looks."

When the train emerges from the tunnel, the four sit there without saying a word.

The grandmother is thinking to herself: "It was very brash for that young man to kiss my granddaughter, but I'm glad she slapped him."

The General manager is sitting there thinking: "I didn't know the young tech was brave enough to kiss the girl, but I sure wish she hadn't missed him when she slapped and hit me!"

The young woman was sitting and thinking: "I'm glad the guy kissed me, but I wish my grandmother had not slapped him!"

The young tech sat there with a satisfied smile on his face. He thought to himself: "Life is good. How often does a guy have the chance to kiss a beautiful girl and slap his General Manager all at the same time!!!!!

Indeed. How often can one say that "Life. Is. Good?"

Hi there. We here at The Stonestead appreciate that this is a hectic time of year; what with long wish lists, strained budgets and commercial centers packed to capacity with other, equally-stressed shoppers it makes any chore all that more frustrating. We understand all this. And so it is in the spirit of the season that we offer this gentle reminder, in the hopes that if just one person is reached by our message, that many others will be touched.

Please take time to pay very close attention while driving through parking lots and try to note which type of parking spaces the retailer is offering. If cars are parked perpendicular to the driving lanes, then it probably doesn't matter which way you traverse said driving lanes; either direction can easily access the spaces.

But, if cars are parked slanted away from the driving lane, then the direction you travel matters a great deal. For example, if you're driving up the lane and the cars on your right have the passenger side towards you, and the cars on the left have the steering wheel towards you, you have committed a serious driving - and road etiquette - foul.

Put another way: If it's going to take a Herculean effort and TWENTY BLOODY MINUTES ON YOUR PART TO GET INTO THE PARKING SPACE, WHILE YOU'RE BLOCKING EVERYBODY ELSE'S WAY AND CLOGGING UP THE ENTIRE PARKING LOT, ahem, then you are going the wrong way and are a blight on civilized society.

Remember; everyone is operating under just a little more stress than they're used to, it's cold and cold weather makes people cranky. And some of them may be armed.

Thank you.

ALL ABOUT THE UPDATES...

Update? What UPDATE?!? We're still expected to be out of this place in mere hours and we still haven't heard a SINGLE WORD ABOUT WHERE WE'RE GOING TO LIVE!! I mean, seriously, would it KILL someone to put pen to paper and allow us a gentle night's rest? Is that asking too much in this day and age? Psst! Mr. Stone! I mean, honestly, just because the general tone and tenor of public discourse has coarsened throughout the years - no doubt due in part to the efforts of your humble narrator when he was a couple of decades younger - is that any reason for complete rudeness?

If, for example, Mr Stone!, I was in a position of any responsibility whatsoever in this situation, (tables turned), I would like to think that I'd recognize the importance of my role in the lives of others and would take more time and more due diligence in my daily activities so as to STONE!! ...WHAT!!!?!

We've just received word via the telegraph: you got the house.

Really? You mean -- I'm moving back to my old neighborhood?

Seems to be. The paperwork's all in order and work is moving forward as we speak.

Wow. Seriously?

Seriously. Unless something queers the deal between now and then.

OK, now you're worrying me. When's then?

I've heard the 27^th

That's good, that's goo... WAIT A MINUTE!! The 27th?!?

You forgot the superscript, sir.

BUGGER THE BLOODY SUPERSCRIPT! THE 27TH?!??!!?!

Yes. That's good, isn't it, sir?

Well, 10 days in a cardboard box next to a van down by the river beats an unknown number of future days in the same circumstance, I suppose...

There you are.

Oh, shut up.

Before we go any further or dive any deeper into the caves of my life, I wish to extend my personal thanks to the fine folks at the Thrift Savings Plan. If for no other reason than that they have truly earned said gratitude and I owe nothing less to them than to express my gratitude here.

Confused? I hope so...

Since we are progressing as if we're going to be living in this house that I may have already been in roughly 20 years ago, (but who's counting?), our loan people are ever on the march. Signatures, faxes and emails are flying furiously between thee and me and I'm sometimes reminded of the days of old and how such things were handled a decade ago; You brought reams and reams of paper to the closing and waited for hours while they sifted through them behind closed doors.

It is for this very reason that I expect each closing this time to take roughly 15 minutes. But then again, I'm easily disappointed.

Anyway, one of the documents being requested is the most recent statement from our 401(K) - or in our case, TSP - accounts. Which should be easy enough to obtain, so I go about doing so.

Only to realize that the new account cards are pinned to the inside of the computer hutch which is at home in storage after this past weekend. I experience a brief period of panic before I realize that, instead of having to drive all the way up the hill to get the new numbers, I have only to go up the street and turn left in order to get to the cards.

YAY!

I do so and return to the office in about 8 minutes. Once online, I input The Wif's information and am able to save her most recent statement. I then logon to my account only to discover that I can't logon to my account.

I don't remember my pre-Impossible-Security password. Not a clue, frankly. I try a couple of reasonable guesses but am still locked out. I'm sorely tempted to hit the "forgot password" button but then I remember: these morons send your new password out via Snail-mail and I may not get it before our move, much less before our mortgage company needs the information, (tomorrow). So I leave that alone.

I mention this problem to The Wif, and she offers to call in my behalf, (she's so kind she ALWAYS offers to call in my behalf - except on that collection matter from the Las Vegas brothel, even though I fully explained that I never received all of the services... well, never mind that. The truth is that she's usually there for me), only to find that they insist that I make the call myself.

As this is no doubt part of their enhanced security, I have no option but to play along. And play I do.

I get an agent and after convincing him that I'm who I pretend to be, (Grace Slick), I get him to fax my latest statement to the office. He's a nice enough guy and I'm sure it has to do with his first name - the exact example of a nice guy, everytime - if only I could remember what it was.

As the call is winding down, he asks if there's something else he might do for me. I suggest that he reset my password and send the new one out to my new address. That is, 8031 Wads...

"That's not the address we have on file for you, sir" I hear. "No, I'm moving. I believe I mentioned that, and this is my new address that I'd like to have you send my new password to."

"But it doesn't match your current address." "Yeah - because we're moving next week and I'll need access to my account at some point."

"But that isn't the address we have on record," (this guy is good!). "Right. Because we'll be moving next week and you specifically send out your mailings with the 'Do Not Forward' stamp, so instead of having you send out something to an address that won't be mine, and will not be forwarded to the new one, why don't I just give you the new address now and you can send the information there?"

"Sir, that address doesn't match our records, so I can't send it out. If you'd like, you can access our online system to update your personal records...

So the computer is smarter than the guy on the phone. At a personal level, it's a revolting development. As an FTD, I'm really not that surprised.

I've never, EVER, been one of those Republican fringe whackos who suggest that a good, HARD beating at the polls is what's needed in order to reform my party and set it straight on the Path Of Reagan, (God rest his soul). Not by a long shot; these people seem to believe that victory can be attained by losing political office and playing the part of a minority party while the lefties appoint judges, hike taxes and enact regulation/legislation that shape the American culture for decades to come.

It's madness, I tells ya'...

Except. I now see a single, outside chance in this particular election cycle that has a very slim possibility of perhaps turning our fortunes towards the light in coming years. I may not have mentioned this, but it's a long shot and it goes like this:

Let's say the dems nominate hillary. And let's say we nominate huckabee. Aside from the various comedic placements of their names on campaign buttons, it's a complete wipeout for us and hill becomes President. Then what? Well, for starters, who's her VP gonna be? Obama? pretty-boy? murtha? byrd? kerry? Tom McKnee of Fort Swivens, Idaho?

Seriously; who's she gonna choose as Vice President, and more importantly, who'd be crazy enough to accept the offer? Who would choose to be only VICE President when bill's gonna be CO-President? 3^rd in line to the office behind those two? Forget it.

The Vice President's role used to be one primarily of advisor and backup. Representative-In-Case, if you will. It's largely become ceremonial in nature, (not withstanding our friends on the left's current view of the current situaton), but under a hill bill (Vol. 3) scenario, the VP would be less than an afterthought. It would make Catcus Jack's "bucket of warm [spit]" downright desirable.

And then - assuming congress continues along its current do-less-than-nothing pace - there would be no notable or well-known dem to step into the void of front runner: congressional "leaders" would already be proven to be the farce we all know them to be and even a sitting VP would come out from the bill/hill shadow and shrink from the light like a Vampire on Easter morn.

With team clinton on the sidelines due to being either term limited or voted out, What else have they got - aside from hill's current field of VP candidates? The entire party would be rudder-less after 8 or 4 years of that reign. And there's where my idea falls apart.

In today's world, the stakes are too high to take 4 years - much less 4 days - "off" in order to play politcs and try to regain power. That's why the Responsible Republicans will field a viable candidate and SHOULD show up at the polls to support whomever that turns out to be.

We can craft interesting scenarios and talk about What May Be If, but by giving up, we lose. By definition. That's the lesson our friends on the other side of the aisle can't seem to grasp.

So let's try to teach it to them, shall we?

Well, I'm completely floored - on a couple of levels at least, but with some luck I'll get to that, too...

Saturday. The day before the day before yesterday, to you. It's Saturday and I'm hoping and praying that things go well, but it doesn't look good; I've rented a moving truck and asked a family from church if they might help us load it up, but I never heard back from them throughout the entire week. Doesn't sound good.

I'm also expecting another friend from church to show up and lend a shoulder. After all, he volunteered without even being asked, but I haven't seen him yet. I'm not worried, though, because I asked him not to show up at (or around, implied), 8:30 and it's just 9:00. No big deal.

The problem is that I AM expecting a small crew out to repair our downstairs chimney flue. And since it's a condition of the sale of this place, I'm actually getting just a bit antsy about their not being here. Especially since they said they'd be here between 8:30 and 9:00. And now it's 9:10. So instead of giving in to my antsy-ness, I decide to start moving boxes and temporarily superfluous furniture downstairs to into the big truck.

(OH! And that's another thing: we rented a truck from the place where we have our big storage unit. They nickel and dimed us on the unit but for some strange reason I expected them to be reasonable now that we're paying customers. I feel like lying down and spitting in my own face for that bit of stupidity. They were going to charge me for Saturday - the day we were actually using the truck - as well as sixty cents per mile AND for the full day Friday because I dared to pick it up at closing and keep it overnight. HORRORS! It came down to a question of whether it would be worth 40 American in order to have it in our driveway the night prior. It was.)

The big problem was that it was snowing. Not a ton and certainly not white-out/blizzard conditions, but it was on the ground and in the air and that's generally all it takes to kill the volunteer spirit in friends who have offered to help you move. So when I hear motorized activity in our driveway I glance out the window and see, what looks to be a friend's SUV securing a position at the top of our driveway.

But THAT makes no sense in context; I haven't even seen this guy or his family in months because they're now attending a different church. What could bring them here now? And how - just to prove what an absolute DOPE I am - could we entertain their company when The Wif and the kids are about to leave and I'm hoping to get a fireplace repaired as well as have people here to move heavy things?!?

MY WORLD IS SPINNING OUT OF CONTROL!!

Well, most of you have no doubt guessed it: he was here to help. In the midst of the cold and the wet and the snow and all the work, he came from out of the blue to lend a hand. Amazing. And then, after showing up with gloves in hand and starting out by cleaning my steps and telling me I'm "skinny again," he hands me $500, offers me with weekend rights to his wife, (I'm going to have her vacuum) and gives me several stock tips.

(The first half is true - he did say "skinny." The rest - including the vacuuming - is farce.)

Shortly after that, the family we talked to and one we didn't pull into the driveway, fully equipped with coats and hats and a strong desire to help us. The Wif deployed the kids into car seats to take them to Grandma's and before she could get it all together, another friend from church and the chimney repair crew were coming up the driveway.

I was so overwhelmed by the outreach of my friends and their willingness to help in our Great Hour Of Need that I completely forgot to yell at the chimney guy for being so late. Honestly.

From there, things became frantic. My friends started carrying and packing everything I pointed at (and some that I hadn't) into the moving van. And every time I said, "These 5 pieces of heavy furniture HAVE to make it on the truck..." thinking that it would keep them busy long enough that I might catch my breath, they were back in 5 minutes looking for more to load.

As it happened, I lifted and moved almost nothing. Seriously. I had become the unwitting and unwilling chief of a crew I hadn't expected, but only because I was the most familiar with the territory. When the question is, "What's next?" I suppose it can only be answered by the guy who has that house's address on his drivers' license. No other explanation makes sense in this case.

And in the end? Well, that very morning I was about ready to divorce The Wif, (see also, Today); she was so stressed over our move that she had taken to treating me as if I were a brain-dead leper. With AIDS. Every question I asked was met with hostility. Every idea I had about how to proceed was cast off with a particular whiff of attitude that I last noticed at the horse track.

But when I called her after our posessions had been safely cast into storage, her voice and her very attitude was different. You could hear fresh air in her tone instead of rotting stinkbugs. She seemed genuinely pleased at the state of our home - even if "M" and "D-Man" are sleeping on mattresses on the floor in mostly empty rooms. Binky is in a Pak-N-Play, even though his crib frame is still in the room, (because I can't find the right tool to take it apart and his mattress is in storage) and there's an inflatable Queen-sized mattress on the floor where our King sized mattress used to rest.

Nightstands are a thing of the past and my wallet, keys and the like are resting on the box that used to house the air mattress. We're eating off a card table that's scores lower than our normal table, so the booster seats are gone, (which is good, because I was getting tired of sitting on that phone book). The computer is spread horizontally instead of being stacked vertically and I kind of enjoy the change.

In fact, I'm eternally grateful to my friends - who never read this site so will never see this - for all their help. They carried out heavy furniture while I looked for tape. They emptied entire rooms while I checked email "one last time" before shutting everything down.

Best of all, we're in a completely enviable position as this last week unfolds that I can't even imagine the alternative. And that was their gift to us...

It had nothing to do with all the physical activity they did on our behalf. Not in the least. Their gift to us was a gift of Peace in knowing that the big things are taken care of and already off site and everything - EVERY single item that now resides in or on this property - I can now handle by myself.

I've probably just cursed myself, but the blessing that was bestowed upon us this weekend can easily sustain that...

I'd like to take this time to relax a moment and reflect upon a ruthless attack on our shores. Frankly, I'd like to use the rembrance of this attack and compare it - and those who rose to fight against those who perpetrated them - but this is Friday, (for you) and I have a self-imposed regulation against taking on serious topics on Friday. Because of my vast love for all of you, my readers.

So instead I'll just suggest a small prayer for those lost on that day and ask a single question that I may or may not return to at a later date: What is the difference between WWII vets, Korean vets, Vietnam vets and Gulf War vets? (Hint: popular culture holds the answer.)

Bless you all, and all those who followed you...

J.O.T.W...

A Catholic priest, a Protestant minister, and a Rabbi are discussing what they would like people to say after they die and their bodies are on display in open caskets.

Priest: I would like someone to say "He was a righteous man, an honest man, and very generous."

Minister: I would like someone to say "He was very kind and fair, and he was very good to his parishioners."

Rabbi: I would want someone to say "Look, he's moving."

This is true on so many levels that it's not even funny, (small wonder that I included it as a JOTW, then, right?). If you're laughing, calll me and we can discuss Theology. If you're confused, email me and we can discuss life. If you're crying, talk to me and we can discuss finding a church(/synagoge)...

Soooooo... we thought we had a house. Or rather, "word was" that we had a house. It was a done deal except for that sticky detail of actually seeing things in print. And then signing said printed details.

It was a great house: a two-story, (which was The Wif's preferred style)(natch), that weighed in at 3,000 square feet. The location wasn't perfect - it backed directly to one of the Metro area's most-traveled arteries - but it was in the "right" area. And it had a HUGE yard which could easily contain a large swingset, a dog run, enough room for a decent game of tag and a shed which would house the soon-loathed lawnmower, as well as other Instruments Of Doom.

Heck, I even went so far as to write about it - be it ever so obliquely - and upload our portfilio of pics of the place in order to share with friends. After all, it was all but done and only the paperwork remained to be finished. Such was the strength of our deal; the reliability of our good faith. The character we displayed in how we managed ourselves throughout the entire bargaining process.

After all, we asked no concessions and bargained no quarter from our end. It's not like we placed a huge demand on them by asking them to drop the price by a mere 10K. Not in this market, anyway. No, we were in a favorable position and had only to wait out the bureaucracy in order to put everything together.

In fact, one of those friends with whom I'd shared the pictures called me today, (actually, two of them did and I may get to that later). She's a good friend and co-worker, (well, she's a good friend and a lousy co-worker) (I kid - she's a lousy friend as well), (I KID again, for such is my way! HA! HA!), and she works in San Francisco.

I Can only imagine her gut response at learning that we've put in a $209,000 offer on a 3,000 square foot house. How soon before she moves out here - but then who wants another Californian within Colorado borders?

So we've stood in Limbo for more time than I care to remember, frankly. And then all of a sudden...

...

...

...I get a call from The Wif telling me that the home we set our hearts on -- the home that we've allowed our children to explore and have already mapped out our bedroom furniture for proper placement, ... , is no longer listed among the available properties in the online listings.

Oh, man...

So -- we finally have a new address. Well, technically and in a very real sense we actually have 3 new addresses at this point, but only one of them is "real." And the funniest part of the whole thing is that the one "real" address is nothing but a mailbox, and it's not nearly big enough for all of us to sleep in.

After discussing our many options and the unusual nature of our current circumstance, we decided that we would go ahead and rent a mailbox. Mainly because we knew we'd have to anyway, eventually, but it's also the best (and probably ONLY) answer to a certain question that's been plaguing us: which address do we put on the checks we need to order? Seriously, when you have no home and need to order checks, (checks that will likely be with you for 2-3 years to come, in this day and age), what else can you do?

The other two addresses are "real" to the world - in the sense that you can Google them and come up with actual results - but are still not "real" to us because we're not sure if we're going to live in either of them. Things are looking good that we'll have to use both, but I'm still not sure.

See, one is the home we think we'll be buying and the other is our temporary situation that we've arranged for. As I say, if things continue the way they look to right now, we'll live in the latter for about a week and in the former for about 8 years, (your milage may vary).

The problem is that I haven't seen anything in writing - much less signed something - that would formalize our relationship with the sticks-N-timbers that might define most of our next decade. Now, maybe it's just my years of toiling unnoticed in a legal office rubbing off on me, but I'm feeling a bit twitchy about claiming this new home as our own just yet. Oh, it's a nice enough place and it's big and has a nice yard and seems to fulfill The Wif's wish list, but without having made my mark in some sort of legal sense, I still have my doubts.

(Note to my Eternal Family: My faith is still intact and working overtime. The fact that I'm swirling in earthly details should surprise no one who's read The Book. We'll end up where we're meant to but I still feel called to serve my gifts and put a roof over their heads.)

So we're exactly where we used to be and are used to being: officially homeless. But it's a bit like being chased by the Mummy, frankly. It's a horrible fate that we're promised but only if we allow ourselves to be caught by it. The Mummy plods along with doom on its mind but we're free to race when we see open ground and throw up all kinds of obstacles in its path when is our wont. Such is the freedom we experience right now and it's really rather refreshing - even given the uncertainty of it all.

We have a plan and even a verbal agreement (that's awaiting ink in its final form). We have a backup plan and are prepared for either eventuality. We have friends and family who will likely be here this coming weekend to help us (me) move the big stuff out so that as the actual "moving day" approaches we'll be able to walk away with a few suitcases and a single truckload of mattresses.

And we have our Faith...

MORE ON THAT...

Of course, the other end of the deal is the sale of this home and before I explain any further, I feel as though it deserves a little explanation. If you know what I explain...

I've been making a conscious effort to avoid talking about our looming home sale. After all, if you become a one-trick pony you pretty well get what you deserve -- and that's the death-knell for an internet site. Except among rabid fans who feel a soul-connection with your one-trickedness.

ron paul supporters LEAP immediately to mind, but the principle also extends elsewhere. For example, I've been slow to make my site all about my current circumstance.

And yes, that sentence makes all the sense it was meant to; I've been loathe to make my site about me because I remember the feedback I received during my bout with gout. Or during my dealing with the Leg Which Would Not Stop Bleeding. The readers spoke, and I listened. It would seem that they wanted nothing to do with my day-to-day maladies, so I took that to heart.

Until yesterday, when I received an email asking me for an update on how our home sale is going. The writer said something about 'not expecting a personal response,' but they're going to get one all the same. It's just that it will be shared with my other readers. Making it somewhat less than a "personal" response, one would suppose...

As usual, things here went exactly opposite as I expected them to. Namely, I thought that the fireplace inspection would be a breeze and the sewer inspection would be laden with trouble. As it is;

The sewer inspection went pretty well. The guy was pretty much able to stand on the contents of our holding tank - which would normally be a problem - but after I told him that the tank was emptied in late 2006 rather than mere weeks ago - he lightened up considerably. He also charged me an additional $150 to install the "T" valve that the code required, but then again, it was required but missing. He also told me to remove the dead tree that lay across the field.

I expected that, frankly.

The fireplace? Well, that's still a problem but won't stall the sale. HopefullY. All the same, I'm not all that eager to assign a large chunk of money to an account I control in the effort of a repair that I do not control. But that's probably just me...

I would like to extend an honest and heartfelt thanks to the folks who run the clinton news network; and for once, I'm completely serious in my derision of them...

There is no doubt among objective/active observers that cnn leans so far left that - had they been present - they might well have righted the Titanic and helped it sail safely into harbor. But I guess that would assume both power and influence, and cnn seems sadly in lack of both, if especially the latter.

Still, they pretend to hold a few cards so every now and then they get to host what would otherwise would be a serious event and in this case it was the Republican debate. And what made it utterly unserious was not the host - although we'll get to that in short order - but instead the format.

Which is to say that every leftist idiot in the country with exposure to a movie camera, and that number has increased exponentially in the past years, was immediately in the pool of potential questioneers of the candidates. Which means something.

And the fact that only the leftist moron questions were considered to be part of the debate speak even more directly to a vitally important fact. Namely, you HAVE to vote Republican next year and I'm about to explain why.

The Republican field - as a whole - will travel to any venue and face any host under any format and NOT go to great lengths in order to plant their operatives in the audience. Hey - they'll even go on cnn to face an unpleasant host in an unfamiliar setting with an unfavorable setting, while the dems refuse to go "against" Brit Hume because he's a FOX Network employee.

Talk about a difference, but what IS that difference?

Well, they (cnn) tend to only field the questions with which they completely agree - thereby throwing in their lot with those with whom they completely agree, politically. It means nothing to them to stack the deck in the favor of the left because they win in the doing. Or so they think.

But in the long run, as the leftist media treats the leftist candidates with kid gloves, they're allowing the demos to be "soft" contenders; they, (the lefties), won't receive any challenges which will help to forge and refine their positions. They're going to be allowed to skate across the political landscape on blades casted in the shallow flame of benign agreement.

While on the other hand, the leftists at cnn see a chance to challenge Republicans as a regular day at the office, and in selecting even those few, lame, dumb-arse questions they so desire to beat up on a "righty" that they miss the bigger picture:

They're challenging Republicans and giving demos a pass. Whom will that strategy strengthen?