HE'S WENT AND DID IT AGAIN

Hey, if our Prez can mess up, so can I.

The way I understand it, this is what he did. (And why you have to read about it here instead of the national news syndication speaks volumes).

Do you know the motto of the United States? No nevermind if you don't--he didn't either in yet another speech in a foreign land. He thought it was E Pluribus Unim (from many one) instead of In God We Trust.

Our motto was made official in 1956 by President Eisenhower. It was reiterated eloquently by President Ronald Reagan who stated that as soon as our country is not a country under God, then it will surely be a country who has gone under.

A Christian caucus has asked Mr. Obama to correct his misinformation. As of this entry, he has refused. By the way, why do we have so few members of Congress that Christians only make up a caucus? Which I thought was usually not a very big number. Usually not a majority.

But I don't know why I find that surprising. Scripture tells us there will always be a remnant of believers. Unfortunately for us, remnants are not very large.

THE DIAPER CAKE

A former student, a former JAVA editor of mine, a new FaceBook friend shared a picture of a diaper cake present for her newborn daughter. Since our youngest granddaughter is going through the potty trained stage, I thought I'd share the picture. Of course, she's proud of herself when she goes on the big potty and as a result, gives herself a pat on her back.

As cool as the diaper cake is, there are some other kinds of cakes that come to mind that might also be useful and longer lasting than the traditional high calorie cakes that taste so good. Wedding cake is probably my favorite, while red velvet is the choice of CQ.

But what about a tool cake? All people except the real pros need tools. Sometimes that's the difference in saving or costing money. I can't calculate the number of items that I have broken because just a little elbow grease is all I need philosophy. But had I the right socket set, the right vise grip, the Allen screwdriver, then I could have saved a call to the fix-it guy. If I had a fix-up shop, I'd have to call it TQ's Muck Up Shop. Unless I had a tool cake.

While I'm at at, what about a rag cake? Lots of shirts and shorts have I turned into rags because of dirt, grime, grease, and oil. Had someone made me a cake of various and sundry type rags, then I could have saved myself and my wardrobe.

What about a light bulb cake? Does anyone ever have enough light bulbs? I don't care if they're florescent, old incandescent, or the squiggly new ones. Various sizes? Oh yeah. Flood lights, dome lights, Malibu lights, heck throw in some GSi's and some fuses, some circuit breakers. Build that cake.

Finally, a pen cake. From Bics to Monte Blancs. Different colors, different sizes, different styles, different thicknesses. Just different. Especially appreciated would be those that never dry up. Even highlighters and Sharpies. Throw in a few lead pencils and pens, but have an ample number of extra lead.

The kinds of cakes are only limited by your imagination. They can be food items, too. A jello cake, for instance with all kinds of different flavored gelatins in boxes. Challenge yourself. Create a cake. Maybe a toast cake. Ok, that wouldn't work. But someone had to come up with the diaper cake that at first didn't seem feasible.

LAST ONE IN'S A ROTTEN EGG

AND WHO WOULD WANT TO BE THAT?

The things we do or have done so we wouldn't be called a name. A name that denoted a character flaw, a shortcoming in our design. A kink in our genetic make up.

And there's always one like the aggressive wildebeest that shows his testosterone by leading the way. His competitive nature may have in fact originated the dare. Lemming-like the others all follow.

Risk is a requirement. Physical risk. "Bet you can't" is different than "Last one in." The former could be used without the physicality part. As in "bet you can't name all the state capitals". There's a dare and a risk, but there's no stigma if you can't. If you want stigma, just be the last one chosen in a pick-up game. More than once.

It seems ok, if one is just not as intellectual, but if one is not as athletic, then that's where the harm is done. I haven't even addressed physical qualities or inadequacies because they can't be challenged. Other than "I dare you to get a Mohawk."

It's ok to be the last one in. It's ok not to go in at all. But try telling that to youth. Or old guys, who really don't rule no matter what the tee shirt says.

IN THE TREETOPS

Check it out. That guy walking in the center of the picture is dwarfed by the trees. They must be 17 times taller than he. Ok, I didn't measure, but I did eyeball it up to the first branches of the nearest trees as my eyes measured him off 17 times. So if he's a six-footer that means the tree is over 100 feet tall to its branches. Tack on another 10 feet and you have a whopper of a tree.

Plus the girth. I mean these trees are where we get the word tremendous from. So what's to be said about them? First, I don't know the kind. My Juco Botany class didn't cover these. I don't know the scientific name, but I could guess (hugeenormitus mongus). But I could be wrong. In fact, I could be wrong about the whole scene.

Maybe they're not trees. You know, they could be cell phone towers. Like palms that some cell towers try to replicate. They could be getting some powerful reception by punching in numbers close to these babies.

They could be condos for the Bangladesh people. When The Amazing Race went there last week, they cited the density of their population in comparison to all US and Mexican citizens living in the Los Angeles area. That is some close proximity. So tall, hollowed out tree condos might just be part of the solution for Bangladesh. On second thought, I don't think there are that many. I mean that is some serious overpopulation.

Besides providing shade and oxygen to the air, trees are often times just appreciated for the beauty. The big ones for their magnificence. I guess it's enough just to appreciate them for what they are and give glory to the Creator.

I SAW THE RAMS AND THE RAMS WON

Leaving familiarity is tough when you move. Passing by the same old spots day in and out, and then suddenly not seeing them is something I miss. Kinda like the Wimpy sign that hung on Ellis' cafe. Although it was hangout of my Dad's, if I was ever in there more than twice, I don't recall. But I remember that sign and the big Pepsi sign that stood tall on top of the Susan Shop. Yet another one I remember was a sign advertising insurance. It showed a fire raging, ravaging a house and it moved 3-D. Actually it was more like those theatre lights that blow a flame, at least that's what they're supposed to look like.

Besides family and friends that I left behind in my near decade ago move to the West, and besides the familiarity of signs that I listed, I miss my sports teams. The Cardinals and hearing Mike Shannon. And the Rams and tailgating before entering The Ed.

Oh, I make it a point to get back for at least one football game per year and then I usually take in the Rams when they play in AZ. Sunday was that day.

A sweet day in The U of Phoenix Stadium. The best NFL stadium in my limited exposure. The dome was opened. The weather outside perfect, and a great win for the Rams. The last time I was in the stadium, our daughter and I went to see Kurt Warner totally whip up on the Vikes and Brett Favre. It was a little different this time when I wasn't wearing a Kurt jersey. I displayed my #8 Sam Bradford Rams jersey. Its inaugural wearing.

It wasn't quite the same as The Ed although our seat location was nearly identical to our STL seats. But it was a fun afternoon.

I saw no familiar signs though we did pass a restaurant that we like on the way to another restaurant where we ate. There's some familiarity in the desert, but I haven't found a Wimpy or a Mike Shannon, though I did talk to Mike Shannon once in Florida as his daughter was on our flight. One time doesn't fit the bill for familiarity, though, any more than feeling nostalgic for Ellis' Restaurant. But I still miss that sign and wonder where it is.

CHOICES

I had choices of what to write about today with the Sisyphus picture. I could re-tell the story of his punishment according to Greek mythology. I could discuss his pride which led to his punishment and compare it to our pride today. Or could ask you to ponder a Sisyphean task or two that you experience.

The one thing I always liked about Sisyphus is that he never once complained. He had all this cleverness, all this self-importance, but when hammered by Zeus, he performed his task without grumbling. Without self-pity. Without resentment. He's a model of one who knows he was wrong and was willing or at least submitted to paying the price.

How often we blame the enforcers. The blame game it's called. It's easy to do. Until we stop to think. (or is it "stop and think"? Today in the newspaper, a columnist that I like penned "and all the sudden". I screeched. What happened to "all of a sudden"?) Why would that person who loves me want to cause me grief? Do I ever want to cause her/him grief? Or as the old saying goes, when you're pointing your finger at someone, if you look at the other end, it's pointing right back at you.

We're also bad about complaining. It's too hot; it's too cold; it's too windy; it's too cloudy. It's too expensive; it's too hard; it's not the way I like it. So that's how Sisyphus got to share the picture portion of today's entry with the chicken.isThe way the crosseyed guy got billing was a tech mistake by me. It was no one else's fault. Not the computer, not the program, just me. See how I'm a Sisyphus? Or maybe just a sis.

If you don't like it, well, just get behind that rock and push.