Pandora Radio

Ever wished you could decide what music played on the radio?
Would you like to hear only music similar to what you like?
Pandora Radio is for you.
Click below for free internet radio.

Jesus Rides With Lil Mikey

A friend of our's whom we call Lil Mikey, washed windows at a church in our area. After the job was finished, the Pastor complimented him on a job well done. Lil Mikey asked if there was anything else he could do. The Pastor said he would appreciate it if Lil Mikey could take Jesus out of the church. Lil Mikey was speechless for a moment before asking just what the Pastor meant.

The pastor explained to Lil Mike that they wanted Jesus out of the church because they thought it was a little bit too much, too iconic. The Jesus in question, is a five foot tall, 450 pound statue, that has stood sentinal for years outside the church. Lil Mikey, with the help of a few others loaded Jesus in the back of his pickup truck, lying him down next to his extension ladders. The Pastor wanted Jesus to be left standing up in the back of the truck for all to see, but Lil Mikey wisely insisted on the prone position.

After taking Jesus to his house on South Washington Street, Lil Mikey stood him in the middle of three wooden crosses already erected in his yard. After sprucing Jesus's robe up with some leftover blue water-feature paint, and doing an admirable job on repainting the rest of the statue, Jesus now stands proudly.

Lil Mikey has a dog. Her name is Isabella. Isabella is a yellow Retriever of about one year of age. She has grown up at Lil Mikey's house and had never known Jesus until last week. When taken out for a walk, Isabella would stand at Jesus's feet and bark over and over at him. The good news? Isabella has accepted Jesus into her life and knows Jesus. My suggestion to Lil Mikey was to put Jesus into his truck when he goes window washing and rename his company, JESUS rides with me cleaning service.

Jesus Rides With Mikey

Time flies when you are having fun

July is a busy month. Corn to pick. Jellies to make. Salsa to be put up. Whew! Daughter Elizabeth bought me a DAK 2800-PC Wav grabber for father's day. It is an interface that connects the record player with the computer. It lets you transfer albums to the computer, mark where the tracks start and end. Then, you can record to CD Rom.

Pretty neat stuff. I got to drag out the old vinyl albums. Starting to get the hang of it.

Check out Bill Hunt's page if you get the chance. There is some really funny stuff to be seen there. It will make you wonder if you get a funny telephone call.

That's all for now, but by now you know that there are some things that I don't understand. See ya.

Losing Miss Tippy on Bankston Creek

Have you ever done something that seemed really exciting before you did it, but after it was over, wondered "what was I thinking"? I sometimes feel like I have a corner on that market. Second question. Have you almost lost your kids? I mean lost like can't get them back because of physical danger? Well for a while I may have had the corner on that one too. So here is another in a long line of "Boy that was close!" encounters.

We used to have a fiberglass canoe that we would take with us to go down the Current River, Jack's Fork River, Eleven Point River or for that matter, any river that we could float on. Kids named her Miss Tippy for obvious reasons. During the transition from Winter to Spring in the year 1994, brother-in-law John, son Chris (age 6) and myself decided to take advantage of the rain swollen condition of a local creek named Bankston Fork.

I don't think you will find Bankston Fork listed on any but the most detailed Sothern Illinois map, but it is a muddy little creek that runs for about 20 miles from its beginning to its eventual deposit into the Saline Creek which in turn flows to the Ohio River. That spring, the creek was out of its banks and into neighboring fields, making it floatable for nearly its entire length.

We loaded the canoe, paddles, seat cushions and the one life jacket (for Chris) and made arrangements to be picked up between Muddy and Harrisurg. Yes the name of the town is Muddy. We put the canoe in the water just outside of Carrier Mills with John in front, Chris in the middle and myself in the back.

There was a cold sprinkle falling. The temperature was in the mid 40's. Each time we came to a bridge John and I alternated positions. So after a couple of position changes, we found ourselves at the Dorris Heights bridge. Now, there was nothing remarkable about that bridge, other than the water was up so high, we had to take the canoe out and carry it around to the other side to put it back in the water.

It was my turn to sit in back and "steer". (this is where the spooky music should begin) As we steered for the fast water of the center of the channel, we were swept headlong into a Cedar tree. Trying to avoid tree without any forward motion allowed us to hit the tree and, well, tip over. The scramble was on! We did manage to regain our places in the then submerged canoe, but with only one paddle. We couldn't steer the canoe and it quickly turned back over again, dumping us back into the cold, muddy water.

I grabbed Chris so as not to let him float away. My heavy army coat did not help staying afloat. John eventually swam to the shore as I swam on my back pulling Chris closer to the shore. John, to his credit, ran along the shore and picked up a branch and extended it to me, but when he tried to pull us over, the branch broke. (very distressing) There were lots of eddies in the water and when hittng them, I would occasionally go under the brown murky water. Eventually John did get us pulled out.

We lay on the side of the creek shivering and trying to catch our breath. As we clutched the muddy bank, we watched Miss Tippy and our other gear float by. We discussed going back in to recover them, but instead, watched Miss Tippy float away toward the unseen Ohio River.

We walked back along the creekbank and eventually got a ride to make a phonecall. Help came and we made it back home. I wonder where Miss Tippy ended up. There are some things I don't undersand.

Tattoo removal (Click for Video)

Everyone needs a good tattoo removal aid.

Horseback Riding and Philmont Boy Scout Ranch

There is a horse camp about 8,000 feet above sea level, up in the hills at the Philmont Boy Scout Ranch near Taos, New Mexico. One must hike several miles over several days to get there. Wild mustangs have been caught by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) and saddle broken and taught to take expeditions even higher up into the hills. The trails they follow have beautiful views across valleys that drop off to the side for hundreds of feet.

Before we could begin our ride, we had to learn how to control our horses. We were instructed that the horses are working while on the trail and are not to graze along the way. They are fed when they return to the stables. Riders are to pull up on the reins if the horses attempt to feed on the grass along the way. Sounds good huh?

We were also taught that when encountering hikers along the horseback trail to stop and give the hikers the right-of-way. Hopefully the horses won’t get spooked that way. See where this is leading?

So, off we go on the trail ride. Our group included about ten scouts and adults, including the guide. We slowly wound our way up the trail. Switchbacks and fairly steep grades followed one after another. We came to a spot on the trail along side a pretty steep drop off where there was a group of hiking scouts who were trying to cross the trail in front of us. We stopped, forming a line of horse and riders in a sort of “bumper to bumper” traffic. As the scouts began walking across the trail our collection of BLM mustangs sensed the opportunity to grab a quick bite of the available green grass and leaves.

As the horse bent their necks to eat the grass, the riders did as they had been told and pulled up on the reins. Now, a certain number of readers out there will know that pulling up on the reins also happens to be international horse language for REVERSE. That was problem in “Bumper to bumper” as the horse’s rear flanks backed into the cold nose of the horse behind them. Oh, did it get ugly then.

When a horse is prodded from behind their reflex seems to be to kick backwards. The first time the horse in front of mine kicked me in the shin, I thought I had just had my leg broken. The only protection was the leather sheathing leading to the stirrup. The second time the horse kicked me, I “knew” it was broken. The nice neat orderly row of horse became a twisted shuffle of kicking and jostling animals. My son Christopher’s horse attempted to side step the action and slipped off the trail.

The most vivid memory I have of the incident is when the horse rolled down the hillside (think mountain) with Christopher falling in front off to the downhill side. The horse rolled over Christopher as its feet were down. The horse regained it footing, Christopher was unhurt, and my leg was not broken after all. How everybody survived, I don’t know. There are some things I don’t understand.

Picture Blog

I am going to try to post some pictures on the http://sbevis.groupee.com/ site. Please feel free to check them out. Leave a note and I will visit yours site as well. Have fun.

Tangentializing

Ever had a conversation where you missunderstood a phrase or word and then replied or carried on the mistaken track? Well that is what we at "work" call tangentializing. It doesn't have to be a complete misunderstanding, just a divergence from where the conversation was originally headed.

Sometimes a tangentialization will occur to an individual while someone else is holding forth on a particular topic. (Usually at lunch, or prior to begining class)In those cases we have established a set of rules to cover the situation.

The person wishing to tangentialize is allowed to pick up a tissue, napkin, or even a page of newspaper to throw into the middle of the table. This acts as a tangential time-out or segue. The person who has thrown the segue flag now has control of the conversation.

Several things can happen at this point:

1. The segue flag thrower can insert the tangentialization and offer the change in direction of conversation.

2. The segue flag thrower can hold up an index finger state the proposed change and ask for help in remembering the topic. (lots of us are getting older)

3. The segue flag thrower can, as often happens, stammer and wish they could remember why they threw the flag. (happens more often than we would like)

The segue flag throwing is only for formal interuptions, or serious tangentializing. Usually one will just misconstrue, go down the wrong road and end up in a blind alley looking at all the tin cans, trash cans and stand scratching one's head wondering "what happened"?

There are some things that I don't understand. Does everybody's workplace have this sort of interaction?

Innertubing on Deep Creek

In the summer of 1980, my wife Susan, daughter Dawn, son Chris and I went on vacation to the Smoky Mountains. Dawn was 5, Chris was 2. We spent a night camping in a campground in North Carolina next to a small winding creek named Deep Creek. Right outside the park, innertubes were available for rent for a couple of dollars apiece. Susan stayed at the campsite with Chris while Dawn and I rented a tube apiece. We walked, rolling the tubes, past our campsite and up to a bridge about a quarter of a mile up stream.

The water was very shallow and very cold. Dawn sat down on her tube while I got situated on my tube. We held hands as we started floating slowly with the current. As we came to larger rocks, we bounced from side to side on the water. Before very long we came to a spot that was too shallow for me. I became grounded. I let go of Dawn while I stood up and away she floated.

Suddenly, without me holding her back, she picked up speed. She floated faster than what I could follow as the water got deeper. I began to lose ground and she floated around a bend in the creek. I panicked, got out of the river and tried to run ahead to catch her. I could have been the inspiration for the O.J. Simpson commercials as I leaped over campfires and cooler trying to keep track of where Dawn was. I would look into the creek and not see her, but not know if I was ahead or behind her. When I arrived back at our campsite, Susan was sitting next to the creek waiting for us.

Susan quickly determined that I didn't have Dawn and didn't know where she was. I started running back the other direction when a couple of older folks waved me down. Are you looking for this little girl, they asked. Talk about relief. I don't understand how one little girl could just disappear that quick.

How to do this Blog thing

I have spent hours looking at other's Blogs. I am just awed at how good some of them look. I am still trying to learn how to make even small changes. I hope to be able to get with the flow of things soon. Keep up the good work fellow bloggers.

Where is Home?

There are some things I don't understand. Where is Home? Not the house we live in at the moment, or maybe not the last place we lived. Is it the house that we grew up in? How does one get back home? We all need a centering place to return to. A feeling of being displaced is common when we travel for business or pleasure. But, how does one get home if they are already where they live?

Is home defined by others and where they are? Can home be something that doesn't exist if the ones we love are not there anymore? As one ages, do pieces of home leave?

CIPS

There are some things I don't understand. What is the difference between a monopoly and Ameren CIPS? What are the available options for power other than CIPS? How can people on fixed incomes adapt to double and triple rate increases? Why do the very politicians who are key in "serving" their constituents take huge payolla dollars from CIPS? It must be easier to pay one's electric bill with thousands of dollars from CIPS in their pocket. I don't understand how the politicians can be indifferent to how this is effecting the life of so many people.