One of My Favorite Old Songs

Polka Dot Pajamas Could Cause Me Big Trouble

For Christmas my wife received a pair of pajamas from a very close friend and she absolutely loves them. The jammies are white, with pink, blue, and purple, polka dots, and they are by far the softest pair she owns.  Here's the problem; every time she wears them I am reminded of this little guy.

He Breathes on Winter and Suddenly It's Spring

"He breathes on winter and suddenly it's spring".  I ran across these words this morning while reading from a most ancient of song books; the book of Psalms.  Perhaps they caught my attention because of the snow that has freshly fallen outside my window, but some how I think it goes deeper than that.

In many writings and poetry the "winter season", is used as a metaphor for enduring times of great hardship, barrenness, and dark nights of the soul.   But the word which really captured my attention was the use of "suddenly".  In other words, "God is able to change our barren and dreary season in a instant."

Although I believe that most of the time God chooses to work through the systems and seasons he has ordained in our daily lives, I must never lose sight of the fact that he is God, and if he so chooses can change my current circumstances in a breath of time!

Madonna and Clive Owen in a BMW Short Film

10 Things

  1.  Motorcycles and black ice make for a sore ass.
  2.  The stronger the coffee, the better it tastes.
  3.  You have more friends than you think.

  4.  You have less friends than you think.
  5.  The most miserable people are those trying to please everyone.
  6.  Everyone is selling something.
  7.  Age is not an indicator of wisdom.

  8.  There is more to life than work.  Trust me!
  9.  I am pretty sure Jesus would wear jeans.
10.  French toast is the perfect breakfast food.

"No Iron", "Wrinkle Free", Yea Right!

Santa was kind enough to bring me several dress shirts for Christmas, all of which came labeled "No Iron", "Wrinkle Free",  Liars!   It's a scam!

Here's the way wrinkle free is supposed to work.  At the "No Iron" factory, cotton fabric is submerged in a large vat of formaldehyde then pressed flat.  One this process is complete the molecules which make up the fabric will behave like a well instructed marching band playing the half time show at a local high school football game, and move to their respective positions each time the shirt is laundered, thus making the shirt "Wrinkle Free".

Nice theory, but never works for me.  I always end up ironing my "No Iron", "Wrinkle Free", shirts to keep from looking like the local vagabonds picking trash out of the dumpsters and begging for a quarter.

Now I am told inorder to solve the problem of having to labor feverishly over my ironing board just to get my "No Wrinkle"shirts to appear crisp, and tidy, there are two things I must do.

1. remove shirt promptly from the dryer (Yea, right!)
2. purchase a more expensive shirt (seems the $75 ones work the best!)

Told you it was scam! Since neither of these two things are going to happen in my home, the next time you see me simply tip your hat, and hand me a quarter.

Happy Birthday Dad!

This morning I caught myself staring out the dining room window toward the cheerless winter sky and realized it reflected my mood with vivid resolution.  You see an Alberta clipper, moved through Springfield two days ago and in it's wake left frigid temperatures and a bleakness one normally attributes to the waning weeks of this season. 

The past day my countenance has been somber, quiet, and withdrawn, feelings I attribute to the fact that today is my father's birthday, he is seventy-eight years of age, or is it more accurate to say, "he would have been" seventy-eight years of age, I'm not really certain. 

Robert L. Slark Sr., my father, died almost four years ago, and although many people believe "time heals all wounds", for me the sting of his death intensifies with each passing year.  Perhaps it's because I am getting older, or maybe it's regret for words misspoken, or worse yet, those I left unsaid!  I will never be certain, all I know is I miss him!

My dad was not a perfect father, and saying so doesn't diminish his enormous impact and influence on the man I have become.  God knows I failed miserably at being a perfect son, but I knew he loved me and I hope he was aware of my love for him. "Happy Birthday Dad!"


Love,

Your son

Remembering Warmer Days