Everything

A friend told me about this sketch, but I couldn't find the video until it finally showed up on GodTube. Watch the video, read the lyrics, and then I have one final comment.


EVERYTHING (by "Lifehouse")
Find me here ... speak to me
I want to feel you
I need to hear you
You are the light ... that's leading me
To the place where I find peace again

You are the strength that keeps me walking
You are the hope that keeps me trusting
You are the light to my soul
You are my purpose ... you're everything

How can I stand here with you
And not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how
Could it be any better than this?

You calm the storms and you give me rest
You hold me in your hands
You won't let me fall
You steal my heart and you take my breath away
Would you take me in? Take me deeper now?

How can I stand here with you
And not be moved by you?
Would you tell me how
Could it be any better than this?
(repeat)

Cause you're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything, everything

When I was in college I roomed with a guy who had a similar heart to mine. We wrote songs together and played in a band together. He went on, in fact, to become a songwriter in Nashville and has penned at least one Number One hit. He once wrote a snatch of lyric to a song he called "Blow Your Mind" that goes like this:

Take a step toward the Lord
That's all you have to do
It doesn't matter where you're at
He'll take a million steps
Just to get to you

Amen. And Amen.

Set Phasers to Pause!

On November 20, CBS Home Entertainment is releasing a box set of DVDs of the first season of the original series of "Star Trek" (or TOS, which is Trekkie shorthand for "The Original Series"). The episodes have been digitally remastered, with a few extra details thrown in, and everything is in high-definition.

But the really cool part is if you order between the release on November 20 and the end of next February, Toshiba will throw in a remote control designed to look like a phaser (see pic above).

It even has phaser sound effects, people!

The link to the story is here.

Go. Vote.

Voting ends one minute before midnight on Tuesday, September 25.

What Do You See?

I see a fish. What do you see?

My wife is turning into a pretty good nature photographer, with a keen eye for unique shots. If we had the time, I'd turn her photographs into large prints, matte them and then sell them to corporate offices and cubicle-dwellers and at craft shows.

An Oversimplification

Like most everyone, I have serious doubts about such a heavy American presence in Iraq. When the war started, I could be heard telling anyone who would listen that it sure looked to me like it was going to be a Viet Nam in the desert. I didn't see any way we could "win." I really still don't, though I do, of course, care for our troops and pray for them and want them to stay safe and come home whole in body, mind, and spirit. Like many of you, I have family over there, and she's even headed back for a second deployment as I write this.

And I've been thinking. I keep reading how most of the suicide bombers don't really do it because they have a deep belief we are godless infidels who deserve to die, but rather because Al-Qaeda pays their family several hundred dollars, which is enough for them to live on for nearly half a year.

So it seems to me that what the insurgency boils down to is not necessarily idealism, but economics.

I know that's a horrible oversimplification, but it sparked this idea: with what we're spending on the war, wouldn't it be cheaper to just give every family in the region twice what Al-Qaeda pays? That might even buy us six months of relative tranquility (with a lot fewer deaths all around) and the Iraqi government could concentrate on getting their feet on solid ground.

Just musing here, folks, just musing.....

Pencil PC

This goes along with my Mark Mail post today on pencil trivia.

Er, sort of.

Thanks and a tip o'the cap to list member Daffy H.

(Check under "Archives" at my website for today's date.)

The Results Are In...

...and I don't have cancer. Yay! Thank you for your kind prayers and good thoughts. (See "Not Sure I Can Stomach This," posted August 8.2007)

It was a near thing, though. The first words out of my specialist's mouth when he walked into the exam room were, "Mark, I was sure I was going to have bad news for you today...."

In fact, he said he was so sure I had cancer that while he was performing the colonoscopy, he marked the troublesome spot inside my colon with surgical ink so he could find it more easily when he went back to remove the tumor, as he was sure he was going to be doing.

As it is, I'm merely considered "at risk" and have to endure another 'scope in nine months.

He also said my gall bladder has deteriorated some more and should be removed.

Personally, I think he's just looking for a consolation prize in the surgery department. Still, it's something we'll look at getting done sooner rather than later.

And oh, he put me on a diet.

'Bout time someone did.

Forgotten Words

I don't rightly recall what put me on to this line of thinking, but on the way home tonight I was trying to remember some very useful words that you just don't hear anymore.

Flapdoodle, for one.

Fun words. Words whose very pronunciation carries a good ounce of meaning without ever having to consult a dictionary. Words that usually upset spell check software.

Like tarnation.

Or gumption.

How about betwixt?

Poppycock and Balderdash, twin brothers of skepticism.

Hullabaloo.

Tomfoolery.

I invite you to share some of your favorite "forgotten words."

Wonderful World

Trolling for material to put in my Mark Mail post next week, I ran across this, performed by Australian magician Ray Crowe:

Commercial Education

So I watched a little network television tonight, and I forced myself to sit through the commercials (well, most of them, anyway), and here's what I learned:

• If I buy a Jeep^®, a hot blond will want me.
• If I'm under 25 years old and anorexic, Old Navy's new line of blue jeans will look great on me.
• There is now a hair spray for salads. I guess the lettuce was looking just too limp.
• My children will get really mouthy with me - in a good way - if I buy them a "Go" phone.
• Chickens can drive a car.
• Even if I subscribe to Comcast's new telephone service, I'll still be an idiot.
• Eating Jello's "Fruit Passion" flavor will make me dance in public and my clothes will turn into something hip and fashionable.
• If I buy a Honda^®, a hot brunette will want me.

This is why my finger usually finds the "mute" button during commercials or, if I'm just grazing, I'll move on to a channel with something I want to watch.

Though now I'm wondering which car I have to buy to get a hot readhead to want me.

Oh, wait, I already have that. Lucky me!

24 Years

This is a photo my cousin, Rowland, took of us at my wife's company picnic yesterday. Hmmm, I see it's time to go get some "Just for Men^®" and get that beard darkened up a little.

As of tomorrow, my wife and I will have been married 24 years. God and time have been kind to us, I suppose. We have endured some sorrows, but not enough to make us bitter; we have known some serious joy, but not enough to make us careless; we have worked hard, but not enough to make us heartless; and we have played well, but not enough to make us foolish.

All in all, you can't really ask for more than that, can you?

Salute to Ace

My wife and I bought this car in the fall of 1993. That's nearly 14 years ago, folks. We paid $10,000 for it and it has turned out to be one of the best investments we ever made. I survived a minor collision in 2000, which gave Ace it's "blue eye" when a pickup truck turned in front of me and I broadsided it. No one was hurt, but due to Michigan insurance law, no one paid anything for damages, either, so we could never afford to get the body fixed.

Of course, we didn't call it Ace back then. It was just "the blue car" and then we'd whinny like a horse (obscure Young Frankenstein reference).

In the summer of 2004, we gave the car to my son, Matthew, when we finally purchased two newer vehicles. He was the one who christened the car "Ace."

He called me this past week to share the news that Ace had just ticked over 200,000 miles on the odometer. A testament to religiously changing the oil and periodically adding a little TLC.

Probably a lesson in there, somewhere.

In case you're interested, the car is a 1992 Saturn SL-1 with a 5-speed manual transmission.

Not Sure I Can Stomach This

So for about the past six weeks I've had a gnawing pain in my lower abdomen. Though it's mostly still a nuisance pain, it has been steadily growing a little worse, with a second spot of trouble popping up down there.

In fact, last night it kept me up a little bit trying to get into a comfortable position where it would let me sleep comfortably.

Well, my family doctor is thinking hernia - which is not unreasonable, given the fact I lift quite heavy things here and there every day - and so today (well, yesterday as I write this) I go to see an "Internal Medicine Specialist" to get everything checked out.

Folks, the good news is that I don't have a hernia.

The bad news is that I do have something. He just doesn't know what. So now I have to see about the "Big C" ... at my age, kids, that's COLONOSCOPY. That happens Tuesday. And then the following Monday I get a CT Scan of the whole abdominal/pelvic region, which requires a barium shake for lunch. (I think they call it that because it tastes so awful your taste buds just wish you would bury 'em.)

My wife's had a couple of those scope treatments where they look at your tonsils from the other end, so I have a good idea of what to expect.

My next blog entry may be posted from the bathroom.....

Sorry about that mental picture.

No, really.

Time for New Tech?

So my PDA (Personal Digital Assistant) just sounded its alarm, reminding me of an appointment I have today.

I opened it up and discovered it was reminding me of...

Groundhog's Day.

2004.

Time for another trip to the store, honey!

A Small Conversation

So in my disguise as a mild-mannered postal retail clerk, I had this conversation at my window yesterday.

A classic "little old lady" had walked up and purchased a few stamps, when she looked at my name tag and said, "My son's name is Mark."

I smiled and confidently replied, "It's a good name."

"He died."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"When he was 41."

At a loss, I offered, "Was he able to leave you any grandchildren?"

"No."

"Well, I am sorry for your loss, ma'am."

"He had Crohn's Disease. He died two days after his fifth operation."

At this point, before I could muster another response, she said, "I had five sons. He was the youngest." And then she toddled away.

The selfish part of me was squirming. It was all, like, "thanks for letting me know my name reminds you of something tragic...." but the more mature spirit in me realized she just wanted someone to talk to about it. I had the sense this had happened in her life quite some time ago, not recently, but we honestly didn't talk about that.

And now I've talked about it with someone. The circle of life goes on.