Like the exposed bone of a cat's tail...

That's not a metaphor - I now know what the exposed bone of a cat's tail clicking against a cabinet door sounds like.

More on that later!

Lots of noise in the world right now. No, that's wrong, the world is actually very quiet since most people aren't leaving home. My home sits in an air traffic lane, and we've heard one incoming flight the past hour... Anyway, if the world sounds like anything at the moment, it's smartphone keyboard clicks generating text posts on social media, like the tick tick tick of a cat's exposed tail bone against a cabinet door...

Parents are being forced to spend time with their children for the first time in forever while they watch Frozen 2 on a loop. Armchair experts are eager to tell the rest of us why we should or should not worry and how we are either over or under reacting. The general population is discovering what it's like to disinfect a house - something we've had to do since the birth of our son (welcome to the party everyone!). My personal favorite dynamic at the moment are those who pretend nothing is happening and what are we all talking about anyway(?).

Apparently no-one can agree that anyone might be right one way or another or between the one or the other.

My last writing on this site was in 2017. The mojo didn't die, but I've been busy ya'll. Honestly I noticed around the time of my last post that I had become a bit over-saturated with the inflow of opined writings from various public figures in my social media feeds and decided there't not much of a point to contributing to the noise. One person is a monologue, and three makes for nice conversation, but a thousand is just static.

Oh right, our cat lost a 3 inch piece of his tail last night.

I'm home on pre-Coronavirus-planned time off to enjoy Spring Break with Ashley and the kids. Our theme park outings have been replaced with activities around the house and a hike in a conservation park tomorrow, but we're enjoying the break from reality.

So I hopped in the shower yesterday to wash the smell of spent 2-cycle mix exhaust (Manly, I know), and decided to take a moment to shave my head while I was at it. I usually start with the neck and sideburns at the sink, and then move to the shower to blindly shave the remainder of my head. No mirror necessary. I have done this enough that the mental map of my head is enough and once I get to that point I do not require visual reference. It's a ritual and I enjoy it.

So I got about three good strips shaved and was rinsing the razor when my son frantically knocked on my bathroom door and told me the family needed my help urgently. So out I came in my work pants and a partially shaven head. The family was frantic. Apparently Ashtin walked out through the rear french doors to our patio and closed the door behind him. A portion of our cat KJ's tail somehow made it's way into the opening and was neatly de-gloved at about the 3 inch mark.

NOTE: My wife will exhibit a gag reflex when she reads the preceding sentence. Hello dear, have a drink of water.

UPDATE: I read this out loud to Ashley and she visibly gagged, then reached for a drink of water when I said the word "de-gloved".

So there's me, soaking wet, partially shaven, hearing the damage report from the family and observing the cat calmly wagging the exposed portion of his literal tail bone.

#SPRINGBREAK, right guys!?

The cat needed emergency attention, but first, priorities. So I lathered back up and quickly finished my head in the sink while Ashley and the kids got the cat sorted in the pet carrier. No way was I going out in public looking like that cat and I had some kind of shared industrial accident.

Our usual vet, which provides emergency pet services closes on Wednesday and most other vets either closed at 5pm or had shuttered temporarily due to the impending pandemic. We were able to find another vet a few miles away and I took him there. While filling out paperwork, KJ wanted to snuggle. So I held him against my side with his nubby busted tail slapping against me (probably on purpose, he's kind of a jerk) until he got curious and jumped down from the exam table. No harm, right? He sniffed out the room and made his way over to the sink cabinet, nuzzled it for a scratch, and began wagging the injured portion of his tail against the cabinet door. The exposed bone made an audible clicking sound against the wood and gave me the willies.

Okay buddy, come back up here with me.

Pictured: See? He's a bit of a jerk.

Got the paperwork done and went home around 8pm. The vet took good care of him and ended up amputating a 3 inch portion of the tail, unable to re-glove the de-gloved portion of tail I had brought in a ziplock baggie.

They called at around 1:30am to let me know he was done and I could come pick him up.

This post is largely pointless, but I hope it entertains you for a minute. Sometimes a distraction is a good thing, and I'm happy to take your mind off of the very real threat of the global pandemic that has affected every human on earth in one way or another. I'm sure the guys on the ISS will be spraying their re-supply loads with Lysol at this point.

I watched another rocket take off today, just like I did the last time I wrote. Isn't it amazing? People, living in space, watching from SPACE while we discover new ways to overreact, under-react, cure, die, isolate, write about cat's, etc. When they return to earth, they will return to a world of people now feeling as vulnerable to infection as my family and I have been for as long as I can remember. Let's see where this thing goes, but let's do it together. Maybe I'll write more about the weightier things in this post at some point in the future, or maybe I won't. Like I said earlier in this post - there are plenty of opinions out there - and it's all we can do sometimes to develop our own thoughts in the midst of the static. Do what you can to think independently, and enjoy my tales of tails and other disasters while you do.

Love and Peace,
Austin

Was that a rocket? An admission of inferiority.

I was on the phone with my wife while driving back to the office from Sam's Club. I make a lunchtime pilgrimage there once per paycheck to stock up on the bulk necessities.

We had been chatting about the weekend news of a group of white nationalists clashing violently with counter protesters in Charlottesville, VA. Questions like 'why is it legal to possess and fly the swastika?' and 'Why aren't meetings like this a hate crime?' were on our tongues and minds.

While in Sam's Club I shook hands with a ***** man who tried to sell me a cabinet door refinishing kit. I said no thanks. I also helped a scooter bound ***** lady get a pack of bottled water into her attached cart. Neither of them tried to kill, maim, steal from, or otherwise harm me. Shocking, I know!

You'll notice that I very subtly censored the color of those I encountered in Sam's. After reading this sentence you will also realize that you tried to fill in the blanks. One of these people was white, the other black. Did you just try to fill in the blanks again?

I lied about the colors by the way.

In light of recently rekindled racial tensions I could not fault these people for taking note that I am a white man of nearly 200lbs with a shaved head, facial hair, and a terrible case of resting angry face (I promise, I'm in a great mood).

"Superior"

Does it matter how white or heavy I am? Does it matter how gloriously intimidating my mustache is? No, it doesn't, but there are people in the world who would call me "brother", tell me that I am part of a superior race and invite me to join in hateful speech, violence, and the "purification" of the earth by ridding it of those who are not as susceptible to skin cancer as myself. 

Firstly, white people with blue eyes are by far some of the most frail people on earth. We are the least adapted to environmental factors that our melanin rich brothers and sisters are able to thrive in. 

STANDING OUTSIDE GIVES US CANCER! 

It's one of those funny/not funny things. People freely choosing to create problems for others because they were fed some combination of the vitriol and false convictions of their bigot ancestors instead of looking at other humans as equals. I have a feeling that if, rather than condemning the actions of these idiots (I absolutely condemn the actions of these idiots) we were to ask them to explain what they gain by their actions, their speech, their beliefs - they would not be able to provide an answer that had not been memorized during their indoctrination into these beliefs. They must! .. they must know that they are the minority, right?

Would an African man with albinism be welcomed into this meeting because of his skin and eye

color? 

Pictured: White Supremacists? -
Credit to https://unearthingthespud.files.wordpress.com/

I'm writing this after not writing for months because I feel as a white, nearly 200lb bald man with facial hair absolutely horrified by the actions of anyone who does anything in the name of race. I also happen to know other white nearly 200lb bald men with facial hair who feel the same way. I, with my freckled sunburned flawed white skin HATE the hate that has been spewed in the name of being white, and I urge others to write pithy blog articles and Facebook commentary expressing the sentiment.

We were created to love and be loved. To you who disagree with the opinion that all humans should be regarded as equal and choose to take part in hateful speech or action against your brother or sister, I ask you, what do you gain? What is your end game? Do your beliefs improve the world and if so, how? There is a comment section below for you to freely express your opinion and I urge you to do so in the name of open dialogue.

"Whoa! Was that a rocket or something!?" 

-My wife

---

The Falcon 9 lifted off from pad 39A at 12:31 p.m. carrying a SpaceX Dragon capsule packed with 6,400 pounds of science experiments, equipment and food including ice cream treats for station astronauts.

Less than eight later, sonic booms reverberated across the Space Coast as the Falcon’s 156-foot first-stage booster landed on legs south of the launch site at SpaceX's Landing Zone 1 on Cape Canaveral Air Force Station. Source  

---

The sound she heard was the sonic boom mentioned in the second paragraph.

It is the year 2017! Rockets are landing mere miles from our home after delivering ice cream to people living in space! Shouldn't we all just be excited that a rocket can deliver ice cream to space people!?

On some street somewhere right now your brothers and sisters continue to slaughter each other in the streets for their color or lack of color and we in our silence agree that we are okay with this!

All is not right with the world and will not be unless you say something. Do something... Feel something.

The man in the middle

That quote is the only thing he ever says to anyone.

I don't think I'd ever want to get a phone call from this man... but based on this sun bleached 20+ year old advertisement in the post office I get the feeling that someday I might.

Poor guy's been holding that phone to his head for so long that he can no longer not smile.

Look at his eyes! They're begging you for help!

Louie, the ad exec at USPS had to come up with a quote for the picture and took special note of the bags under the "successful man" man's eyes.

And as for you Empowered lady on the right who works from home, how exactly does Rent-A-Box deliver!? It's a PO box! The only thing it is capable of is receiving mail!

Bobwhite Cat Call Shopping Whistle!

EMAIL READERS: You should view this one in a browser window for video content. Thanks!

That's the most logical title I could muster.

Minding my own business, buying stuff in Sam's Club is not usually the setting for TheLowLane worthy weirdness, but here we are.

I had just loaded up my cart with bottled water and other exciting items and was heading for another aisle towards the rear of the store when I heard a very pronounced BobWhite whistle like the one below...

My ears perked and I wished for a moment that I had brought along a shotgun, then I remembered that I was standing in a grocery store.

I heard it again a few more times, every 10 seconds or so, it became louder as I approached the juice aisle. In the juice aisle stood a woman, her back to me. She turned with her cart to go past me, and as she made eye contact with me, pursed her lips and whistled "BobWhite". She never said a word or looked surprised to see a person, just walked right by, still whistling.

I got the juice and walked from the aisle. She was heading in another direction now and still making her call. Odd. I headed towards the fruit section, content that a strange whistling lady had given me something to write about.

About 5 rows down from where I had encountered the quail lady I began to hear a cat call whistle like this one...

It was definitely a man whistling this time, but again, the source was nowhere to be seen.

I kept walking, the sound got louder, and eventually I found a man sitting in an aisle alone on an electric wheelchair whistling.

He was just sitting there. Whistling.

Just barely hot enough to kill a human.

Just barely hot enough for Satan to vacation here.

A couple of weeks ago I got in my car to head home.
The outside temperature reading of my car was 109F. Don't believe me? The picture at the right is the thermostat on my meat smoker. It sits in the shade at the rear of my house in a screened enclosure, and I hadn't been smoking anything when this picture was taken.

Florida is hot, but that's much hotter than normal. I'm considering turning the hatch of the Prius into a Dutch oven so that when I get home each evening we can have fresh bread with dinner. Surprisingly there aren't many sources on the internet for this kind of modification.

This Pokemon thing is kind of hilarious to me. Not that I think any less of you if you do find it a worthy passing of time (I have already voiced my opinion on fantasy football). Apparently there is a Gym in front of the office. Folks have been rolling up and either trying to capture or kill our Pokemon(?) Good for them. As long as they aren't running around killing anyone right now I think the collective consciousness is happy.

I've got the creative and philosophical funkies right now. But the site needs to be fed to stay alive, so I've just thumbed through some phone pictures and found one that I think must have a story. Don't skip to the end, you'll ruin it!

Bob Ross killed Cookie Monster!

Yesterday, on a quiet Sunday afternoon after a long and busy week I sat with my family and looked for something entertaining on Netflix. We happened across Bob Ross' The Joy of Painting Beauty is Everywhere and my childhood flooded back. I've never painted, and I probably never will. As long as I can think of things to type or write or sing or strum or hit with a stick or fix I can't imagine having time to learn. But this is Bob Ross, the great soother of eardrums and eyeballs that I remember watching for some reason as a kid.

My kids had no clue why I was excited, but we started the show. His entrancing soft voice and ability to slap paint into seascapes soon became a conversation piece. We sat there, observing this softly spoken man do what he loved, and when he cut away from his painting to show us the baby squirrels he had been nursing with syringes of milk we collectively awed.

This was the nicest man who ever lived.

He moved from the cloud detail at the top of the painting into the water portion of the show, crafting distant gentle seas and one detailed wave breaking nearer to the observer. As he began to craft the rocks, my daughter noticed something and spoke up. That's Cookie Monster!

You can see him from here, can't you?

And she was right. See for yourself!

I was curious. Did others notice this already?

A quick review of google results told me that yes, others had noticed that he painted Cookie Monster into this painting. Snuck him in while saying something about a happy little rock, his voice never wavering from it's trademark silkiness.

Awesome, I thought, he painted Cookie Monster in for the kids to find... but then I thought about it.

He didn't paint Cookie Monster on a beach eating a cookie, or hang gliding in the background.

He was Sooo Surprised to see me!
Classic Cook!

No. In fact, if you look closely, you can see that Ol' Cook (we go way back, it's no big deal, but we're kind of best friends. You should be jealous), his eyes wide with horrific realization, is actually about to be pulled into the back current and smashed repeatedly into that gigantic rock that Mr. Ross so lovingly crafted in the frame.

Now, Mr. Ross says in this episode that he has spent considerable amounts of time observing the behaviors of the sky and the waters below it, and it's not a far stretch to think that a man with a military background might have subconsciously used that knowledge to imagine creative ways in which to dispatch an enemy.

Mall Hallway Genius Vortex

I make no excuses for my feelings towards Apple. I've long been convinced that the company as a whole hates it's customers. Time bombing their own hardware to force their fan base into upgrading as often as possible, the customer experience, the pricing, the elitism, and all of the other hooey bug me. 

Are my feelings justified? Maybe not - but most of what I write about is observational anyway, and as long as I perceive it, I may as well write about it. 

So, last week I reserved an appointment with a Genius to take a look at a thunderbolt display that has been causing problems at the office. It was in for repair early last year, but started developing new and exciting problems several months ago. Since the support structure at Apple requires that I work around their schedule, this was the first chance I had to bring it in. The appointment was yesterday, and today you get to read about it.

"Welcome, disgusting imp"

Disappointingly, the screen decided that the 1/3rd mile walk from the edge of the parking lot to the Apple store and 15 minute wait in line to tell the guy with the tablet that I was there for an appointment was all the repair it needed. The Genius couldn't replicate the symptoms, which is not his fault. I guess the display just wanted to get some sun and feel like someone cared about it.

As a side note, the image on the right greeted me as I entered the mall. I think these mall marketing folks need to reconsider their approach. The couple in this image are not saying "Welcome! It's great to see you! Come on into this mall and buy stuff!", they are saying "Welcome infinity Simon.". The male model in the picture is about to cry because of something the girl model said to him before the shutter was snapped.  

I jokingly mentioned the harsh walk to the Apple dude who laughed and offered to walk the screen to the back door so I could just drive around and pick it up. 

It took a moment for me to get past the fact that an Apple employee was willing to do this for ME, a lowly peasant! 

After I put the guy down from what he described as the most awkwardly intimate hug he had ever experienced, I shook his hand and said I would grab my car and be at the back door in 5 minutes. Then I confirmed the location of the door, specifically confirming that it was the same door that Microsoft (next door) used to exit the building since I knew they shared a hallway. 

"Yo the busiest spots in manhattan had better customer service."

Oh man oh man I couldn't let this one slip away.

There have been exciting things happening. That is, exciting enough things for me to ignore my duties to this site. No more apologies, you'll get it when you get it and that's the end of it!

So I was looking for a local place to recycle spent toner and batteries (I told you things have been exciting) since our Staples around the corner closed and found that there really aren't many places to recycle this stuff. I looked for the closest still open Staples and found one 9 miles from the office.

While typing in the Office to Staples directions call into the search bar I spied this location's reviews. One of the review snippets jumped out at me. Can you guess which one?

Manhattan would be offended.

Man, you're sharp - how did you guess?

Yo?.. YO? Who starts a review with "Yo"? Did Rocky Balboa write the review?!

Sometimes I hate my brain. When I read the snippet I instantly imagined an oiled up cast member of Jersey Shore strutting through Staples in a bathing suit looking for a cheese steak and when confronted by the floor staff that A: "Sir, you are shirtless, you have to leave" and B: "No sir, we don't sell cheese steak", stormed out in an entitled fit of rage while internalizing their plan for revenge.

Weeks passed, and Jake the typewriter salesman thought he had heard the last of The Snooktuation (That's the guy's name on the show, right?), but oh was poor Jake in for a rude awakening. He felt a twinge of uncertainty as the call came over the intercom - "Jake Steadman, please see me in the administrative office".

Jake walked slowly, collecting his thoughts, carefully pacing himself to allow time for a mental inventory of all of his recent customer interactions. His sales numbers had been sliding since people stopped buying typewriters in 1995, but that never seemed to be a problem before. What could it be?

Come in Jake, Mr. Sandelson said before Jake could even get in a third knock. This could not be good.

Jake, we were doing so well this quarter... Please sit down.

Jake sat.

It seems we've met our match, Jake. We won't be able to recover from this one. I'm closing the store.

Mr. Sandelson pulled a bottle and two small snifters from his bottom right drawer, and poured a finger of scotch for Jake and one for himself.

"Wha- what happened sir?" Jake mumbled.

You've heard of google reviews, yes?

No sir, what is a google review?

"It's all that matters Jake!" Mr Sandelson sneered. You get a bad one of these and your goose is cooked!

Sir... did we get a bad googleview?

"Google REVIEW, Jake. Can't you listen!?"

Sorry, sorry. Did we get a bad Google Review?

We did, son. Read it for yourself, Mr Sandelson said with an air of defeat in his voice, turning his monitor for Jake to see.

But sir, this says "Great office store.", with a review like that we should be celebrating!

Mr. Sandelson glanced at the screen and guided Jake's dumb typewriter salesman eyes with his pointer finger.

"Not that one, son. This one."

Jakes eyes filled with tears as he flashed back to that fateful moment two weeks ago when he had asked the drunken spray tanned guido to kindly put on a shirt. If only he'd have known what was to come he would have gone to the secret cheese steak bar in the break room and brought the biggest, bestest cheese steak he could find for the sake of the company. How could he have known that such retribution could come from such a smelly interaction?

But it was too late. He read the words on the screen and knew, just knew, that Mr Sandelson was right. The store could never recover from words so seethed as "Yo the busiest spots in manhattan had better customer service."

Well played The Snooktuation. Well played.

A MONTH!?

It's been a whole month since I posted!? Jiminy willikers, I'm sorry!... Let's see, what would cause me to delay the typing of text, the clanking of keys for a whole month?

...no clue, no excuse, just another apology - sorry.

Recently I've been in Atlanta (exotic, I know, contain yourself - drove up and was able to bring wife and children on this one!), London (Ontario - four day trip to the office for user migrations), and Oklahoma City.

The hotels in Canada are a little dated.

London was great - it snowed. As it were, I spent my 32nd birthday there and was lavished upon by the office staff with Portugese barbecue and cheesecake, followed by a dinner with our Canadian director at a burger place called The Works where I had my first taste of elk meat, followed by a pancake breakfast the following morning at a sugar shack out in the woods where fresh maple sap was being collected. The Canadians either love me and want me for their own, or they were trying to kill me and cover their tracks with a trail of tasty meat and carbs.

London is an interesting town, it's not huge, but it is a city center and there is traffic. I've mentioned before how each area has it's own audio fingerprint. London's audio fingerprint would be traffic, but without horns. There were terrible drivers there, cutting each other off, running lights, and I saw a few near misses, but never once did I hear a horn. Not a second thought was paid to nosing into a turn lane and then waiting out the oncoming traffic in the middle of the road to take advantage of the light change while causing cross traffic to wait. No yelling, no hand gestures, no horn blowing. I got the feeling that calling someone out on their bad behavior would make me the rude one. A (too?) polite bunch those Londoners.

Hmm, what else? Not much really. I pulled a little prank on a coworker that you might enjoy. He's had this picture of Joel Osteen in his office for ages.

"I can no longer not smile" -Joel Osteen

I noticed the picture and was reminded of another celebrity and thought it might be funny to switch faces and see how long it would take my coworker to catch on.

"I can feel Joel Osteen's teeth on the back of my neck" -Tim Allen

Happy Monday!

That barista DESERVES to be fired!

If you know me, and you probably don't (It's okay, I still love you), you know that I view entitlement as a four letter word.

If you listen to or watch or read or absorb the news via osmosis, you know that many, if not most people believe that they are owed something.

Freedom, food, water, marriage to someone with a matching 23rd pair of chromosomes, free healthcare, etc. are topping the list right now. You could choose any tangible benefit and add it to the list and be sure that somewhere out there is someone who thinks they are owed that thing.

Have you ever thought about the definition of entitlement? I feel like I could define it if I chose to, but that sounds like a lot of work when google is just one tab away...

"belief"

Tell me you can't read that without pause! You can? Oh. Um... Well, I guess I was wrong about you. Here, here's some free money. You inherently deserve this money, so here you go. Also, we are no longer friends. But since I have you here, can I ask you a couple of questions? Just kidding - this is going to be a very one sided conversation.

The BEST! of me.

In the physical realm, our bodies replace much of themselves every 7 to 15 years. The body I have now is not composed of the same cellular framework that I was born with. It's pretty strange to think that I am currently in revision 4.5 or so of my physical body.

This revelation gives me all kinds of useful ammo for when older family members call back to the old days of my youth.

Aunt Gertrude: I remember when you were just a little lamb, I could hold you in my own two hands - Gimme a big ole kiss for ole times sake.

Do YOU! want the BEST! of me!?

Me: That wasn't me Aunt Gerty. My mind now occupies a newer, more capable shell. The baby you held in your hands is now the dust that settles on your book shelf... You should clean your book shelf. 

It is impossible to love a person because of who they used to be. Who they used to be is not who they are, and if they are then they have died, failed to become who they should be since who they should be is always changing.

It is also impossible to love a person based on who you believe they will become. Who they will become is not who they are and if they pretend to be who they believe they will be someday, they will most certainly become something else since they haven't yet experienced the it that makes them themselves.

It is only possible to love someone as they are, fully knowing that the 'are' is a dynamic, ever morphing set of qualities.

A person is only who they are at the moment of which they are. I cannot be what I was or what I will be because I am only what I am right now.

This thought train makes me chuckle to think of all of the young, angsty, hormone machines who say things like "Why can't you just love me for who I am!? I was born this way!".

Why, I do love you, imaginary teenager that I've not actually encountered... But I'll like you more in 7 years when all of what you are has been replaced.

Cat food

Jacob, my driver, looked quietly ahead, unsure what to think of me.

He had been assigned to me that morning out of necessity. The day before I had stayed behind at the crusade site to build a drum shield for a recording project the ministry was working on. The collection of materials and construction of the drum shield is a story all it's own, so I'll save the details of that for later. After finishing the drum shield with the help of Jako, one of our loyal and skilled crusade technicians, I looked up to find that I had stayed well after the last of our transport vehicles had left.

I contacted Kwame - the long time manager of our West African office - to ask for a ride. He sent one of the existing drivers for me, and told me that the next morning I would have a driver to take me from place to place.

Back to Jacob, who, like I mentioned before, was looking quietly ahead, unsure of what to think of me.

We had pulled onto a side road and were parked while we waited for the convoy to continue, and Jacob, well, he sat quietly. I'm a friendly guy (Just ask most people!... but not Bob - Bob is a liar!), I like to have conversations with strangers, especially if the only alternative is sitting quietly, as Jacob, my driver was doing while he looked quietly ahead, unsure what to think of me.

"Are you married, Jacob?"

An inspirational quote from Oprah

There is a television commercial for a diet plan that Oprah has been using. In that commercial she says some things that are universally inspiring, just like in this post. In fact, what she said in this commercial was so relevant to all living humans that I decided to create this image to better convey the message she was communicating regarding her diet.

Everything Oprah says comes out like it's the most important thing she's ever told anyone, right? She gets very serious about her opinions, and I can respect that.

Sorry, I didn't mean to introduce a .jpg file like that, it just kind of happened.

Prepare yourself for a quote by the one and only Oprah that just may change your life.

BREAD!!!!

See? Nothing can be taken out of context here. Short, profound, and inspiring.

I wish I were making this up. Oprah said "BREAD!" and the world will listen.

BREAD!!!

If you listen carefully, you can hear her soul burst into flames when she says "JOY!".

It was super YUMMY!

I'm forcing myself to look away from the screen as I write this.

That's how we improve ourselves, right? By forcing ourselves to do things that we can't do well in ways that we are not accustomed to doing them? For some it might be looking away from the keyboard during typing, but I've all but mastered native typing, so I'm now attempting to pen an article while looking off into the horizon.

I'm also listening to the new Dream Theater album while I type. It's called The Astonishing, which would come off as pretentious if it were any other band. But when Dream Theater titles something like that I somehow expect that it will astonish me, and so far it is. They do have my favorite drummer in the known universe, Mike Mangini on drums now after all.

So, the image.

I searched for "The greatest thing that has ever happened" with a fixed size of 240px like always and got a pretty boring selection. The image I selected is also pretty boring at face value. A quote by Oprah because of course it is...

Frequently bought together...?

I'm ordering some toner on Amazon...

Huh. Is that some kind of printer cleaner? I should check it out.

Um...

Here's to you! Person who buys this specific laser printer and organic peppermint soap at the same time often enough that Amazon has grouped them together. May your skin be naturally moist and your printers many.

You doin' okay? You look pretty tired.

This is what the Chick Fil A girl said to me at the drive through. I don't know what bothered me more, the words, or the look of concern on her face as she said it. Almost like she was concerned that I was a risk to myself or others. I must have looked that tired.

She didn't mean anything by it, and her voice projected concern so I'm sure the intention was good, but I have been on the receiving end of this type of statement too many times lately and as every inspirational speaker ever has said - "The Time for Action is NOW"!

I'm tired of being 31 and looking 40, but with some of the life experiences my household has come through I'm surprised I don't look 50. The stress and smile lines tell stories and all that, and there are scenarios where I could  make use of my victories. But the questions from random strangers about my well being are starting to worry me. 

Here's my plan!

Not right now

This is Moe. I doubt he would approve of his employee's behavior.

 A few weeks ago in the midst of our transition from one city to another my daughter and I stopped into a Pep Boys  to get a quick oil change for the Prius. I don't like neglecting my car, and it's not something I do intentionally, but who among us hasn't looked at the service sticker and thought "Eh, a little longer won't hurt"? Life is crazy and sometimes the things that make the other things possible just don't line up with the things that actually are at the moment...

So we park the car, it was opening time for Pep Boys and I was excited to be the first customer, hoping to get in quick and get on my way since I had no more than an hour to devote to getting the oil changed.

Daughter ran ahead and opened the door for me, she's that kind of kid and that makes me proud!

I walked through the door to find a clean lobby, a wall on the right is three layers deep with all variety of oil and knick knacks for the unprepared consumer to grab on impulse while killing time during their wait. Everyone could use more pine scented phone bedazzling kits. Sorry, that's not real. I hope.

I waited to be courted by the man behind the counter (an early 20's looking fella in a never used mechanics uniform, or, in his case, costume) with a friendly greeting, somehow hoping that with the outer styling of the building designed to look like the 1950's he might talk like it was the 1950's. He didn't. In fact, he never greeted me, just kind of stared at me, waiting.

Back-ish!

I would tell you that it's been a crazy few weeks/months/years, but you already know that from my previous lapses in writing and mentions of said craziness in those sparse bursts of text, so I won't.

Craziness was and craziness is still very much the state of things, and so in an effort to stifle your hopes of regular content I will tell you that the site will continue to lack and the next few weeks until the dust does finally settle.

Last week I spent several days in the West African country of Ghana. While there I encountered the full spectrum and contrast of humanity. The evenings were spent with CfaN on the crusade site where untold masses were served the saving knowledge of Christ in the middle of a crime riddled dump. Literally, a dump. Long before the American team members arrived, the men on the ground cleared a massive field of debris and squalor to make way for the harvest. It was an incredible, life changing week for all who attended, myself included.

I came back loaded with stories to write out, and I look forward to doing just that, when I find the time.

Until then, Merry Christmas to you and yours. You may or may not see updates here for now, but don't worry, they're coming.

Love and peace,
Austin

Crawling through the sand

Crawling is the wrong metaphor, I'll go in a different direction with this one.

Full disclosure, My little family is in the middle of buying a house after literally having just sold ours. That's my current excuse for not writing more often. Maybe I should start a series of posts tagged with 'Why I'm not writing very much right now'. Ha, a paradox, a post specifically written about how I'm not writing when obviously I had to write it. 

"That would be almost as meta as quoting and attributing myself!" -Austin Tyson

It would be easy to say that my mind has been on one track while working on buying the house, but you know me, I can't let it be that simple.

"This will never get old" / Image of the week

Vancouver is a lovely, futuristic city. The work brother who picked me up at the airport told me it reminded him of The Jetsons.

He was right, it was like that.

Flying to Vancouver takes longer than it feels like it should since it is right here in North America, so for this week's image I searched for a 240px wide image with the search term "Long Flight". This will never get old.

Well, actually it will. Think back to all of the times you've taken interest in something and found yourself researching, practicing, learning how to do it every day, sure that you would never tire of that activity... Now think about how many years it's been since you took part in that activity.

My father and I restored a 1971 240Z after I graduated high school. It wasn't in bad shape to begin with, one of those old lady kept it under the carport for the past 30 years because she thought the engine blew when all it needed was a coil and by the time my dad and I came around and offered her money for the car she didn't even care that it was an easy fix stories. I was never really sure if it had 86,000 original miles, or 286,000 original miles since the odometer was only 5 digits, but it didn't matter, I had an old car to restore, "The first of many!" I told myself.