WHY CAN'T THEY SEE? HOW BLIND CAN THEY BE?

President Bush and I flew into Sky Harbor Airport Tuesday night. I was coming in from California as was the Prez. I was probably in a better mood since the Cardinals had defeated the Padres in the first game of the Division Championship Series.

The President had been stumping for some Republican candidates in California. I don't know who had a bigger audience against them. Me in my Pujols #5 shirt or W. also in enemy territory. At least I could bring home a win. I'm afraid G.W. won't be as fortunate in November.

You see, a lot of people, especially Californians don't like him.

They don't seem to like Mr. Pujols either. Maybe because they're both good guys. Californians seem to have this hang up about being on the wrong coast. Despite the Hollywood scene, the West Coast seems to get ignored a lot. So maybe they think they can't like what is right.

Our President is right. About a lot of stuff. He doesn't get good press, but then neither does Pujols. At least there are no protesters against Albert, though I did see a sign on tv from Houston wondering "Who Jols?"

I'm surprised they could forget the home run that kept the 'Stros from clinching last season in Houston. But that's the way of the world today. They have a short memory and poor eyesight.

IT'S ALL ABOUT SUBSTANCE-- IT'S ALL ABOUT WHAT'S UNDERNEATH THE SURFACE-- IT'S ALL ABOUT FOUNDATION--IT'S NOT WHAT MEETS THE EYE

This glacier picture reminds me of what a buddy, Jim Rippy says about the duck: "The duck looks like he's just gliding along there on top of the water, but he's paddling like crazy underneath there." That's the way it is with lots of people, too. That calm exterior hides that intense interior.

It's so much more than that, too. I guess that's why I had so many titles for today's entry. If a person is grounded in fundamentals, it's easy to see from the outward appearance. So really it is what meets the eye. It's like in scripture when we're told to expose the light, not hide it in a basket.

Another friend of mine, Coach McClure told me of an older acquaintance who had accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior on his deathbed. He commented, "He made heaven." And that brought back some memories that I held for many years. They were erroneous; they were immature; they were dead wrong, but I had them. I thought that the best way to live was to be like that acquaintance. Live your life as an unrepentant sinner and accept Jesus at the end. You would guarantee heaven, and get to have fun in this life, doing whatever you wanted.

Boy, was I wrong. Being released from the hold sin has on you is the blessing. Of course, as well as having God to depend on, having God available 24/7 for prayer and guidance, having, yes, a personal relationship with the Lord.

And it will be reflected in our lives. People will see that under our calm demeanor, there is a foundation. It's solid. It's real. It's substance.

LOST RUNAWAY AND JERICHO

This could be a pretty good tv season. And 24 hasn't even started yet.

Lost is simply the best show on tv. It's sick. What's up is down, what was good is bad. Are you kidding me--the Others are good? Anyway(s), Jack, Kate, Ecko, and Hurley make for one crazy show. It keeps reminding me of St. Elsewhere when it was revealed in the final show that all the characters, all the drama was from the mind of a ten year old autistic.

I confess I haven't seen Runaway. But if it's a show my wife likes, then I probably will, too. I'm not sure it's beloved as much as Lost is by my son, but CQ seems to like the show about an accused killer and his family on the lam.

Jericho is the new show I like. It is filmed near where a friend of mine lives in Kansas, and, although somewhat predictable with a rebel hero versed in all kinds of expertise in survival skills, it holds my interest. For no other reason than to see who the evil doers are, it's worth watching. Ever since Stephen King's The Stand, I've been interested in that kind of genre: starting over.

In a vast wasteland of television viewing, these three stand out to me. Of course, not including required sports viewing every possible chance. And there's the possibility of Friday Night Lights, too. Yep, it could be a good season.

GOT MILK BOTTLE CAR?

And I thought the Oscar Meyer Weiner Car was cool! How about the Milk Bottle Car?

Actually, the grille looks a little like the old
Edsel. What a car and what an idea. America just wasn't ready for it. Or the Tucker. Or the DeLorean.

When I see old cars and identify a 1955 Chevy or a 1960 Ford Fairlane, it must bug my son and daughter. I know they can't identify anything. Nor can their generation. I mean how could you? Most of the cars from their time are clones of the 1992 Toyota. Then SUVs took over. For the most part they're quite similar, too.

Not back when. Not when gas was dirt cheap and steel and chrome were plentiful. When paint, even though lead based, lasted. When cars actually wore out. When America made the only good cars in the world except for the really high dollar ones. However, that may not be right. Peugot made a very good car, for example, but there was no US availability.

And that was kinda nice. Factories and assembly lines gave lots of people their living. And it was a good feeling of nationalism.

There's a good feeling of a world market and world economy and relatively cheap clothes and great technology today. But somehow it's different. For some reason I liked it better when Made in Japan meant junk.

MY MAN ALBERT

I'm going to the game today. It starts at 1:00 in San Diego. My friend, Bob Peach is bringing me my Cardinal shirt to wear.

You see, our daughter lives in San Diego. The one who got us tickets to see Gershwin last week. Well, she also has tickets for the Padres games including Playoff and World Series.

But because the Padres and Cardinals do not play in New York or Boston, Those in Charge give them poor tv coverage. And rightfully so. Who would want to watch any other teams but those in the East? Northeast. At least ESPN tells us that.

Anyway(s), I love a 1:00 start. It's about the only thing the Cubs ever got right--playing baseball in the daylight hours. But, alas, they, too, wavered (or Waverly) and put up lights at Wrigley. It still looks kinda like dressing up a pig to me, but as much as I like tradition, I don't like that place.

So Peachy and I will sit in the Fall sunshine out in the West on the left or wrong coast and watch Mr. Pujols and Company try to upset the formidable Padres. I picked the Cardinals to fold about a month ago in one of my blog entries. They came close but survived. I still think the Padres will go to the World Series this year. And lose to the Twins.

You see, I always go with good pitching to silence good hitting. Except for #5 Albert Pujols. Be looking for me down the third base line. I'll be wearing Cardinal red with Pujols #5 on my back. Unfortunately, I might be easy to spot in Padre country.

WHAT'S BEHIND THE LADY'S MASK? OR WHAT'S THE CAUSE OF THE SMOKE?

Like the original, I guess this poster lends itself to various interpretations. While you might find it in a few dorm rooms, I'm sure thhe Louvre won't come calling.

My task today is to lightly sand a teak table and chairs before sloshing on some teak oil. I've never heard of sanding teak wood, but my wife tells me that I must. The guy at Lowe's hadn't heard of it. But he's never met my wife. And the AT&T people wished they hadn't after she spoke some kind of repetitive foreign language to one of the machines today. "GuMnramugup..GuMnramugup," just after she told the machine,"No. I want to talk to a person."

So you think I was referring to the smoke emiting from CQ? No. I was referring to what kinds of smoke products result in a sooty coating, black and gritty, that caused the trouble with the teak wood anyhow. (The phone company was another matter, a 45-minute matter to my wife.) At least in Missouri, Arizona, and California there are tests cars have to undergo for emissions. How some pass, I'll never know. It really bothers me when an oil-eating car is smoking up the streets. I think other drivers should be able to call and report them just like drunk drivers.

Cigarette smoking in restaurants is another irritant. Also, leaf burning in the Fall. But those are both best left for other blogs. Meanwhile, my 240 sandpaper and teak oil await.

IF I DELIVERED PERUGINA CHOCOLATES
Then probably everybody would get their chocolate. Complete and on time. I'm not much of a chocolate lover. Especially some of the fancier ones.
I can't seem to distinguish the really expensive ones (see, I'm searching for some names besides Mars, Hershey: ok, I found one--Godiva) and the more pedestrian ones.

When we've been to some foreign countries where some of the more desirous ones are made, my wife, a devout chocolate connoisser, seeks them out, much like our daughter does with Hard Rock Cafes. I go along with them and sample (Courtney likes chocolate even better than her mom.) But keep in mind, I can't distinguish a Dilly Bar from a Hagen Daus, so I probably just annoy them. They both love dark chocolate--the Ex-Lax of chocolates to me.

So give me a Hersey 1/2 pound, thick candy bar from the grocery for $1.19. I'll splurge on kosher hot dogs or Johnsonville brats. And I promise to deliver your chocolate on time.