Swoop Attack Ops.

i Must begin with an apology. That last blog was so boring, after posting it and skimming it for errors i gave up after the first sentence. If you haven't read it, let me save you from certain death. Reading that one won't be necessary. Perhaps i can tell about "pushing plugs" on the greens one day and it will be a tad more entertaining as opposed to that pile of nonsensical garbage.

Onto much more dreadful Tales of Woe.

The other early evening we (two sisters of mine and myself) were enjoying ourselves at the beach. We had just returned from a Food Lion and we bore such bounty and booty, i felt invincible and couldn't wait for a good time with sandy towels and surprise crunches in the mouth.

i Began by emptying the few, small grocery bags (at least 5) and neatly placing the items onto the already sandy towels. There was excitement in the air to say the least. i Reached for the footlong, store bought, ham and turkey sub which was tightly and securely wrapped in plastic only to discover in dismay it wasn't cut. My intelligent sister had stole some plastic-ware packets however, and promptly ripped and "sliced" the sandwich in half. i Picked up some mustard and tabasco packets (yes, more packets holding useful tools) and proceeded to drizzle the sub.

It was perfect. i Was starving. The approximate 6 in. sub in my hands with wonderful flavorful sauces evenly distributed about. i Took a bite. i Took another chunk out of the sandwich. My sister poured some Bolthouse Farms (Passion Fruit and Guava infused) into some coffee cups and it was beautiful. The sandwich was almost a fourth done when i saw a few seagulls out of the corner of my eye, hovering and flapping in the wind. i Should have known, the plan was in motion already. i Didn't stand a chance.

As i reached for my cup with my left hand and held the sub with my right, i enjoyed that last fatal slurp of my juice with gusto. But it was too late.

i Heard a bone-chilling screech and flurry of wings and feather near my left ear. i Threw my eyes off the bottom of the cup and cast them upon my sandwich only to see a blur of white and feel an odd sensation scraping across my right thumb.

Talons. Large ones. They were the odd sensation i was feeling, but that was nothing compared to the thoughts of dread and despair that was welling up fast inside me. i Knew what was happening. i Knew what was about to happen.

Images of little tykes and portions of food that are obviously too big, and some mean creature rips it out of their grasp, flashed through my mind and i knew i fit into that category. i Watched in horror as my sandwich was carried just a few hundred feet before it fell and these vicious gulls made short work of it.

i Didn't know whether to scream, cry, shout obscenities, yell expletives, or get up and chase them foolishly. My sister took care of it for me by deciding to scream and accomplish the latter. It caused a weak smile, but i knew i was robbed.

i Had been robbed senselessly. There was nothing i could do and that just added to my hopeless situation.

i Kept looking back at those wretched seagulls who had devoured some po' boy's meal, and tried to shoot as many icy daggers with my eyes as possible. To no avail. They stared back and out to see, waiting and hoping for something else. This is what i couldn't stand. They had taken my sandwich but still, some hovered near by waiting to fly and swoop down in one finale fatality.

We watched what we were holding from then on. We ate in fear and always kept an eye to the sky.

i Was sure there were congratulations and grateful thank-yous passed around to that seagull who pulled that sneaky, hideous fast one. To that cursed bird, it must be weary in the future. i Have asked for fire from Heaven, or a chance to give it a serious talking to, at least.

It has to know, it's my worst foe.

A Day in the Life of.. Just Another Amigo

This, in many much words, is going to sum up how i acquired a job on a golf course when i know very little about one. Before i begin, there may be golf terms in here that you may not know. Please let me tell you i knew nothing of these terms when i started this job and gradually learned more and more. Please don't expect definitions throughout as i had to figure out a bottom-load of them for myself and you should too; or don't and you will be fine, or better off. Firstly, after graduating early from high school in January, i knew i wanted to get into some local drama. The kind with actors that can pull off fake emotions. Not so much the other which would entail who's dating who or worse, violence or rather obscene activities being accomplished. So, i simply e-mailed the first name on the list of Board of Directors for Bruns. Little Theater. A nice gentleman replied and i found out that BLT would be thrilled to have me in a production but in the meantime, would i mind helping with another production.

As it turned it out, i met a retired Broadway set designer and light technician. This well educated gentleman into his 80's was not quite suited for scrambling up and down ladders. So, i became that. "Scrambling" is a suitable word for it, but hauling myself up and down also fits. Anyway, in the show this family was incredibly nice and invited me to drive with them to Wilmington almost every day to go to rehearsals for another show they were in. i Told them that i was unemployed and they said that they were the head of golf at four courses near my house. i Walked into an interview soon after and suddenly, i wasn't jobless anymore. God bless that family for they not only gave me rides so i could be in a show, but also hooked me up with a job!

So, i started my job on a chilly Saturday morning at 6:30. Still pretty dark in March, and in a new territory, it was a rough day. They allowed me to be off on Sunday, and so my schedule turned out to be 6:30-10:30AM Monday and Wednesday (i was in a Biology class at a community college) and the rest of the week 6:30-2:30 (except on Fridays and Saturdays which were 6:30-10:ish). 30 minute lunch in there somewhere which is always so so GOOD and tasty when it may just be a few sandwiches. i Start my day now at about 4:45 in the morning so i can read my Bible and make breakfast for myself. Pretty serious beginning for the long day ahead, but it's really worth it.

The work that must be done: i Am currently a Sand Master (self-titled, naturally) if i may gush. i Do this job about every day and i've really actually grown a liking to it, although most people think it tiresome and too much work. i Drive the Sand Pro 5040 and it is an interesting job filled with..well, sand. A noisy rusty rake. And all manner of creatures that like paddling around in sand.

The first part about manning this small tractor is that it is slow. Much slower than the big fairway mowers. Slower than any of the old golf carts which start up after holding the gas pedal to the floor for well over 25 seconds some times and have a hysterical delayed reaction that could cause serious injury, death, or the hilarious part which is the sudden unexpected jolt and neck snapping whiplash. Not as slow as Christmas, as the saying goes, but slow enough to make you smile. In other words, you can waste a ton of time on the clock just by driving to the next bunker.

The other part is real simple. i Have to be CAREFUL. When exiting a sand trap, one can easily tear up the turf. i Basically have to gun the engine 98% of the time to get out so that no grass is ruined. It's tough, and leaves a mess most of the time. i Have to stop, get off, rake behind in the bunker, feather out the sand that may have been thrown out of the bunker too by the brush on the back of the Sand Pro, and lastly stamp and place torn grass back in the spot as best as i can.

i Have to fill it up with FREE gas and wash it off at the end of doing that job which normally takes a good 3 and a half hours (sometimes longer if i can help it.:). Then go and park it back in it's rightful place at the "shop" (a big warehouse with all the equipment and room for two mechanics).

So then there's the other parts of the job. Edging cart paths with an edger. Edging bunkers with a weed-eater flipped upside down. Weed-eating. Edging sprinkler heads which is an extensive job because of how many sprinklers may be on a par 5 or 4. Very many much. Lots. And my personal favorite, spraying weeds with Round Up.

For the weed spraying, i use this 3-speed truck that has a 200+ gallon tank and i fill it with 100 gallons of water and 4.5 gallons of Round Up and this herbicide called Scythe. The latter smells strangely strong so it's probably safe to say i shouldn't be swimming in, or swigging it. i Also put a blue dye in it so i don't spray the same plant more than necessary. i Really like the blue look as it makes me think of alien plants that have a greenish-bluish look that makes them look so healthy and..alien. The first time i sprayed however, i used a green dye and this was so ironic because as i killed these plants, i first painted them so they looked more fertile and healthy as ever.

My schedule now, is: clocking in at 6 and working until 2:30 Mon.-Thurs. and 6:30-10:30 on Fri. and Sat. These are such long weeks, but i have been really blessed with this job, despite the wild hours of the morning. So many are without work.

All in all, sure the summer hasn't really been one for me, but i have never learned so much and worked so hard i am positive it's good for me. Perseverance and Patience have been boosted through this job, but i know they could be better as always.

Still striving to be better, but what a Great Truth it is to know that He will get me There.

Phrases on TV

It's Valentine's Day (yes i hate the reminder too if you just sighed a great one), i thought it necessary to share another Tale of Woe. If you are having, or had, a wonderful day celebrating this lovely Saint, then please do not continue to scan this as i might encourage mournful looks and thoughts about me (or evil grins fit for frightening fireflies).

However, this is not a blog about some lonely kid in his late teens. If you continue, you shall see soon enough.

As i've grown up, some pet hates have surfaced like they do with most people if you are normal. The one in this post that i shall rant about can be summed up in two words that have cut me deep more than once. "Empty Words" by Bowery Electric is a strange yet true tune about just that; hence, the reference in the title.

It started i suppose when i moved from the jungle to the Golden State. So many people threw around sweet and far from meaningful words like, "I LOVE you!!!!" This in itself are empty words at their best. Of course they don't mean it, yet they insist on using it with an even bigger smile. How can somebody do this to an unfortunate boy of 17 that is wondering why they say such kind words and only mean, "At this moment in time, you're a cool cat who i laugh at."

Is it my place to judge how they felt inside? Of course not reader, but am i significantly sure of their true feelings? Oh yes. It only got worse when i began to feel something fluttering around inside me when i heard those words from exceptionally beautiful girls.

After i moved again to this pond edge, it did not get any better. As a matter of fact, it went more South than a penguin can swim.

So what to do, go on pretending this has no effect on me? Or, write a blog getting my anguish out there? i Guess i took the latter.

Honesty. So much sense in that word, it's a mystery to me why this world and this place i'm in now is so averse to it. It hits me now though, the world thrives on masks. Society today tells us everyday we should wear our masks, if not for the simple reason of everyone else wearing theirs. Honestly, i am worn out about the whole deal. i Hate wearing a mask, yet i feel i must. Online it is necessary, that is a given. There are too many individuals out that prey on dreadful subjects like slimy lettuce, filthy dank swimming pools, and double barrel fishing. Although in groups at work or school or the local greasy burger stop, it is a tough world when friends cannot trust each other.

Can one be an honest person and still like throwing in words that on the surface sound nice but under, don't mean anything? i Guess it depends on the person. No matter, my plan is to become even more honest than i am. It sickens me how people can give meaningless compliments and such that may make the receiver feel comfortable and perhaps have a bigger head as a result.

So why do people bother with words, if they don't mean them? Ah, now here is a conundrum i wish i knew how to solve. Maybe it is the personality that makes them feel like they need to use hollow words to make themselves feel better. If this is the case, i feel sorry for them. They must find another way to make themselves happy around people, or they may end up friendless, if it goes that far.

Valentine's Day for me has never been that special, but today i got enough inspiration to write this. i'm more than fed up with empty words and this is all i could muster. Too many have been used and i hope they run out soon. Some may feel more profound than you realize.

Did you say that too, or am i mistaken, i felt it happen, but i just know you...

A Hefty Sting

Well reader(s?? The thought has entered my mind more than once, believe it or not, how many of you there are), i thought it appropriate to spin another yarn of uselessness to keep you updated about the latest drastic change to yours truly.

It was a day of trial and error for some. For somebody else, significant apertures in his head. Well, "openings" or "gaps" do not do it justice for you see, these are more like gulches, or an African pothole. But, enough of losing the writer and reader to information that can wait. Let me begin by saying i had been praying about this day for over eight months. Hard road. It stunk. But on to the day, Wednesday, February 2nd, 2011.

After a hardy breakfast of approximately 10 or 12 pancakes topped with Natural Jif. i Took a shower knowing full well it was to be my last, with two of my smarter teeth. Today was the day i was to get two [almost] innocent and bright teeth prodded, yanked, towed, and jerked out of my head.

A rainy and grey day to match my mood, i headed off in the car with the dad at the wheel. On arrival, instead of the cliché wood frame around glass as a door, it was solely the wood frame with cardboard. Complete with one of the most hospitable signs a local dentist could offer. Yes, my thoughts exactly, hospitable and this profession never walk hand in hand. In fact they detest each other with so much hatred and malice, they're on opposite poles.

i Barely had walked into the room at 8 AM and learned that another dentist had been hit by a burglar as well, 20 minutes earlier the previous night, when one in white asked me a question that should be kept far away from a place with such worry, anxiety, fretfulness, and [most importantly as you will be sure to be warned about] pressure.

"Theodore? Are you ready?"

That standing alone could make me type for hours about such an absurdity. i Won't bore you, but let me just conclude with a quick thought about it. She had not processed the question before she spoke. As she began saying the words, i noticed she knew she had made a mistake.

Begrudgingly, i plodded after her with the most heavy steps. As i mentioned before, my appointment was in the little pond edge town i live in. Not some urban city with sidewalks and buildings all around. In a town with a town cannon named Thor and a waterfront fit for fishers and their beer. Not some metropolis with oral surgeons with green salad pinned to fans and walls constructing streamers in front of doorways. Needless to say, i was not "going under." i Was not going out like a light, while they pulled and tugged and ripped.

My eyes were in full function. The entire time of trauma and torment.

Why in the world would my parents make me go through with this, and i agree? It's easy. "Don't make us happy, save money!" i Chant for my parents to remind them i'm not their best kid. In this case, it was a strenuous path to follow. Nevertheless, it began.

"We're going to numb you first, then we'll get started." The attractive dark haired girl said. Ah, finally a statement. Whether i agreed or opposed strongly (the latter obviously), it didn't matter for obvious reasons. i Asked one lady if i could sneak in an earphone while they labored and slogged, and the reply was [in all seriousness,.. this time] music to my ears. They told me to get comfortable and fiddle with the magically slim 2nd generation, which was over too quickly. i Had fixed a playlist to last at least a minimum of two hours and thirty minutes. i Had my left earphone set in place and the doctor was up to mischievousness behind my head.

"Open wide for me." These words in a place of such fear and stress just don't quite fit either. They insist on utilizing them with clarity however.

Needles.

Sting.

"You're going to feel a little sting in a second." -Whamslam- Stung-ed. Then, "And this one is going to sting the worst." -Jabbing needle into roof of mouth- First thoughts you ask? How about as politely and censored as possible, "Excuse me but @#$%, i think you missed the @#$%9 gum where the tooth is. @#$%. For, my toofs rest on this red hill see. Not quite in the middle of @#$% my head." Oh well, needles were over. Good...i thought. i Was told to rest my jaw and wait for a few minutes.

Before i knew it, i was asked yet another question. "Are you feeling pretty numb in there?" i Sure hope so ma'am, i'm hoping i'm so numb you could drive your vehicle over the right side of my face. i Should have said, but i think i just mumbled a weak "Mhmm...yes."

The decision was made to take care of the one on top that wasn't protruding forward and hiding garbage and possibly an answer to my problems, but that's another report. Reaching behind my head again, a shovel was grasped within the pretty gloved hands and i was told more fateful words. (The conversation that went on during this time was enthralling to say the least. i'm sure you can tell.)

"You're going to feel a lot of pressure, but there shouldn't be any pain. Let me know if there is any."

Such warm words of encouragement. A comedian talks about feeling this same pressure and well, it's a riot. He warns that a doctor could be brandishing a two by four and say informatively, "In a moment you're going to feel a little pressure." This sums it up. My head was twisted and catapulted every which way, while simultaneously feeling like the equivalent of having someone duct tape your soul and start wrenching with all their might. Then a pleasant pop, and a real tooth with real cementum hovered over my face for a second before disappearing forever.

This has gone on too long, permission to halt your reading is granted anytime, day or night. The bottom tooth had to come out still. The impacted one. The that had come in facing forward. Tasty.

i Was told she had to drill the tooth because unlike the other one, it was pushing against a molar. The other one they could gouge and simply yank with small pliers [my dad had brought probably, saving money issue]. i Was told once more to let her know (or scream i wanted to plead?) if it hurt. The drilling commenced. Throbbing did too. i Tried to look as helpless as possible and squint my eyes with all my might, keeping them open so she could see the anguish. More needles. Shot up with more Novocain (a derivative of it truthfully, i learned), she was ready to battle the heartless and cruel enemy of mine now. Drilling. More. And water with the drill and that absolutely worthless tool that is supposed to suck up the "stuff" i don't wallow in or swallow. (i Wonder if anyone at all has even thought of a better option. Screwy business.)

Stabbing pangs. More shots. And this cycled through at least one more time totaling at about six (yep, 6) shots of this supposedly anesthetized senseless substance. She gave up and said she was off to get "the big guns." She had never done impacted "wisdom" teeth before.

The doctor who was taking care of me, had never removed my sort of teeth. This narrator, was again a "guinea pig" for someone's career. The Guns entered and proceeded to grab hold of the Devil with the failing pliers, and cracks louder than Old West dynamite booms sounded. It didn't give up. The Guns did.

He told her he was going to let her do it after giving some more inconceivable intel. about "flapping." (Maybe i had too much wannabe Novocain.) She continued, with a nervous agreement and look toward the Big Guns. Finally, it came out. Announcing with triumph, naturally for she, and i the guinea pig, had passed through the Abyss.

Many much warnings and plenty of information given, i said a feeble thank you and swayed and sauntered off forgetting my wind-breaker.

This pointless notation hurt me too. The ravines in my skull now quiver from being talked about to this extent.

Parting remark: When asked if i saw the teeth after they came off, i answered with a yes and an acknowledgement that i had seen them "carry" it off. Although, heaved and hauled is much more fitting.

Cold Summer Morning

Let me start by describing how i never thought this day would come. i'll just jump right to it and not let you sweat and suffer until i tell you bluntly to cause you a little less stress, for once.

Some time earlier this week i learned about a possible hot air balloon ride early Sunday morning. If that short statement of awe didn't intrigue you, please stop reading now. i Wish i could convince you like Lemony Snicket because if i could you would be sure to stop. He writes so convincingly sometimes i came pretty close to stopping as he continued to suggest but that's what kept my eyes running...over the pages.

Anyway, it was a REMAX donation event where they were trying to help Children's Miracle Network i believe. The gist (where did we get this strange and incoherent term? Glad you're wondering too and want to learn something about the English language during your sunny summer of laziness. Just read that it comes from the great Français verb "gesir" meaning "to lie". It entered the English language 'as a legal term' in 1688. Thank you for reading this brief and informative history lesson in its entirety and yes it is now at a close and you may continue to snore uproariously, for after all you are in summer break and wouldn't dare be taught anything of value in this day of partying, nonsense, and clods of sunblock.) is that you could give any donation and "take a ride in a hot air balloon". Inviting? Quite.

Woke up at 4:56 this morning when i set my alarm for 4:30. We were going to leave at 5. Well, it still worked out. We got there with too much time anyway. i Was sure everyone and their sister and puppies would want a free ride. Wouldn't you assume so too? It's only logical. Everyone does want to ride in one, surely. Well, we arrived with the people setting up and i tried fitfully to try and sleep. Did i mention it was about a 40 minute minivan ride to this field and i didn't sleep a wink? i Was so thrilled i couldn't sleep well last night and was happily flipping and flopping around like a balled up wet pair of boxer shorts in a washing machine set on spin cycle.

At around 7 i gave up and stepped out into a dew covered field that had a petite bite to the air. Mr. Hot Air Balloon Man was having some adults and little girls help him spread it out. Not to be out done by some 6, 'scuse me, 7 and a half year olds, i scuttled over to the balloon and was told to get on some working gloves. Boy oh boy, electrifying. The thought of helping Mr. Hot Air Balloon Man out let alone soaring off the ground? Special. Oh so.

The burly hairy man of a man told us recruits that he needed people holding the balloon open while he shot air, and later hot air, into the mammoth airship. Yes, i did jump at one of those jobs. The other job included holding ropes and for this he needed several. My job was just with three others; two of them held some more, yes, ropes while the other actually held the blimp open. i Made sure to ask the manly stock Balloon Man if my job i had just ignorantly volunteered for needed a sturdy soul, but he assured me without a smile that it didn't.

i Held it open but i made a mistake in the first second. He had a fan blowing powered by a gas motor. It was on my side. Hooray. My shorts turned into sails and flapped foolishly around my legs and it wasn't long before they were blown clean off and i was left...

All right all right, but they were sails. Real sails, ballooning ridiculously up and tearing back and forth shouting in competition with the outboard. Dazzling. Nevertheless, i held on to that ring that felt like it belonged to a ballroom gown and awkwardly tried to continue to hold my useless left foot down on it. It ever so slowly began to rise and i anxiously thought up terrible possible future events if i were to let my spindly fingers slide a tad away from the hoop.

Finally, he began to try and fill it with hot (no it's not hot air for those of you who still don't know. It is burning flames shot into the balloon. "Hot" my eye. Yes i know you knew that, but it makes me feel brighter and more knowledgeable about this field of work that i don't know a lick about. Ahah.) air but alas, crosswinds started to blow and rudely interrupted.

It began again of me trying to desperately hold on and not think too drastically about the ever approaching future as my hands grew more tired. It worked with patience of which i utterly had lacked all morning.

Instead of describing in full in another 16 to 38 paragraphs of a cold hot air balloon adventure in which i sailed the clouds and gazed into the depths of the sea and saw sharks and dolphins and all manner of sea life playing and singing happy songs, i will crush your hopes instead. i Did not go more than 40 feet in the air and stayed tethered to a few vehicles below.

Was it worth it? By all means. Every bit of it. Why might you demand so indignantly? Because my one friend, i still rode and spent some of the day in a... "cold hot air balloon!" i Thanked Mr. Hot Air Balloon Man and tried to get his attention by calling him this but he didn't take much notice for he was busy talking to the new riders.

Singing the song on the way home i couldn't help but grin from nostril to nostril as i could cross off traveling in one of those giants. However, i'll still keep my eyes peeled for another venture.

To make the day just one step better it was July 4th. Happy Independence Day. i Was invited to our back-back porch that was ghettoly added to our house and enjoyed a bowl of fresh silver blueberries with cream and whipped cream sprayed with care from a Wal-Mart aerosol can i probably had run to get at the last moment last trip. Pretending you are in the Tour de France nix the bicycle in Wal-Mart is a must.

Another good addition. Sailship has posted two new songs to celebrate too. i've had them on manual repeat for..all day.

One more for the road? Mark Swickley posted lyrics too.

One more for Chuck Norris because...yeah. We watched fireworks through some trees from our screened-in back porch. They were illegal, fun, noisy, and bright. i Further believe they were being shot off from a hoity-toity golf corse near by that needed commotion like that.

These were made so much more enjoyable because the parents were ecstatic. They kept shouting joyful noises such as, "YES! Another one!" "Do it again!" "Yes!" "Do another one!" i Won't put them all in bold, or caps or italics because if you know that merry couple than you know that they can get loud. No, honestly. Surely every retired soul could have heard them through the concrete and closed windows as they tried wearily to close their old and rich eyes. (Not poor because that wouldn't make any sense.)

Yes.

Hope your Fourth was as special or more and you ate enough to stuff you up to the rafters. Some were eating hot dogs and burgers. i Had a tasty chicken salad and homemade ice cream with Malted Milk.

Extraordinary. ;)

Oh, last note. You wanted a patriotic message full of usable intel. to share with your family next year and your grand kids later? It looks like i left that out. Well, it does not have "great sharing abilities" and it most likely doesn't "connect with your troublesome teens this summer" but you can read Flags just for you to um, read.

Flags

Okay, so it's summer. Well no it's actually, Summer.

It's here and it's going to be a busy one. Haven't figured out what i'm going to be doing precisely in the next few weeks, but it's busy. Summer summer. That word doesn't scream "busy" does it? Well maybe it does. So, i'm writing these ridiculous blogs so you two can scan them over with a lazy eye and come to the conclusion that you really are wasting your time. Oh well, i said it. i Think i said this before but... These are mainly to raise the eyebrows and maybe let a smidgen of a grin graze your mind. That's it. So, if it doesn't accomplish that well... It's wasting so much of your time i do believe you might as well keep reading and never give up; theo Shepard should come to a good point by the year 2039 and the surgery is successful up there.

The 14th was Flag Day. i Was woken up by my parents on the phone saying "Happy Flag Day!" around bright and early 9 in the morning in the...Summer. Yes.

My mom thought we should celebrate. i Thought, why in the world... Not? So, i got online and started looking up what you inquire so urgently? Yes! Water parks. It turns out the closest one is 40 minutes away and it doesn't have many slides, as well as being sort of pricey unless i was a child of 6 and under. Who knows, i might've been able to slide under the gate and claim i was three and free. A little girl today told me "Anything is possible 'cause God can do anything." ("Faith Like a Child... Duh duh, deeh dehh, duh duh dehh.." Oh apologies; was singing a..)

Alas, i did not go gallivanting to Myrtle Waves or any other water park and perform shenanigans anywhere. Except... A text message saying there was to be a "party" at the youth leaders' house. Really just a fun hangout time so the married happy couple could show off their new unit of residence, i think.

Had to get gas first and that meant going into the ol' Ocean Town. Decorated to the lamp post it was. Flags and some mo'! Everywhere i looked. Yes, the cars too! i Felt out of place...sort of. So, why didn't i take a picture and post it up on this here vociferation? Well let me tell you that is another blog in itself!!!!!!! Well it'd be kind of short, but it's still sort of a story. You see, i didn't think about people decorating or caring about this country's flag. It didn't cross my mind at all. There's the blog post. Shucks, that was it?

Actually it is. i Am proud to be an American. i Suppose i only now understand what it means when you leave the country and live without, America. These people down here, they're committed. At least most are because it was a sight. The flags lined the road and i wish i had taken a picture with my wonderful photography skills because that would've given somewhat of a mere image of what it was like. Why isn't everybody patriotic? Surely there is something in everyone's country that they absolutely love and can't find it anywhere else. Wouldn't that one person/belief/place etc. be enough to make that person see that he/she really is proud? For me it's belief. The right to believe what one wants. The Best News is, i know the Truth and He gets to change their minds. The sad truth is i don't think every town in the U.S. put up it's flag that Monday. Must they be so, proud?

Anyway, on my way to the youth leaders' house i took a left on Flagship Dr.

It was spectacular.

A Tale for the.. Heart

Had to write another. Here i go. Are you ready? 'Cause if you aren't well... Buckle in and... Oh for Heaven's sake, just sit there and read this nonsensical story because you've already begun.

Monday, June 7 at 6:04. The phone on my desk moves about jubilantly with beeps that resound around my "L" shaped room with clangs of joy. i Cracked my eyes open and reached half-blindly for the condemned thing.

Skipping ahead, i got out of bed. (No really, i did.)

Breakfast was just dandy as always. Eggs on a bagel i do believe. (Yes. i Am a little spoiled kid who is loved too much by his mom.) After brushing those "clean pearly whites," i went out to the garage and jumped in my... Mom's minivan.

i Was to have my last exam for the school year that day and i wasn't too worried. Just math, nothing too serious. (If you know me, well you're smiling right now because you know how math and theo Shepard walk and talk together. i Have pepper spray but all in vain because the canister does not only have a non-functioning trigger but also is empty.) However, my math teacher was good this past semester and i'm pretty sure i passed the class. Key word: "passed". i Signed out early and was on my way home blasting some incoherent tunes to the people stuck in the high school's cafeteria. Oh, yes. This was good.

"i Was approaching the intersection and the light was green. It must have just turned green however, because people were going pretty slow but speeding up. The person in front of me tapped his/her brakes as did i. i Did not stop though and kept rolling. Then i heard a bump and as i moved my eyes to the rear view mirror to see what it was, i felt a big impact on the back of my car." Ah. Yes, this is the woeful tale i have had to tell at least four or five times in the last two days.

Fortunately there was a bank right there and i "hung" a right to get into it. i Got out and i saw the other drivers get out. One was young looking and the other a much older gentleman. The latter had those glasses that are the type that make your eyes roll. Makes some look like dentists. Others look like scary older men in white lab coats that lack a scalpel and a mean grin but can easily acquire both. And still others look like men who wouldn't dare by two pairs of glasses and would rather go around looking like either of the above. If you haven't figured out what these spindly fingers are trying to describe, "Dad, no problem!" as the wise Theo Huxstable would often say to his not so convinced rich father. It's those glasses in which there is another set of shades attached ever so obviously so that one can flip down the darker ones if he/she is out in the sun; or a bright yellow room that the said individual deems is too bright and must have glasses for. (i Have seen this.) And so,... The close of this pointless paragraph describing these two significant human beings.

A [pretty funny, but too polluted sometimes] comedian once told about a car accident he was in. He described how you get out of the car and start lookin' at the damage. Look at the other driver, look back at the damage. Inspect the damage et cetera. Then, you try and exchange information and that doesn't work 'cause no one ever has a pen. Truth. True story. That's how it was. Exactly. i Didn't say too much because let's face it, theo was just one lost little boy. i Was afraid of saying anything that they could "use against me". Not sure where that unhinged idea came from..wait, yes, the tube.

We hadn't been out of the cars 30 seconds until a cop showed up. He probably was behind some shrubbery watching the road with two peeled eyes waiting for a minivan and two others to ram into it. Just sitting there, hidden all concealed like they do so well. Mhmm. He makes sure everyone is fine, and tells us to wait for Highway Patrol. And so it began. The Highway State Patrol "was on it's way" we were so dutifully told and that was that. No warning of how far away or what state (or country) Highway "state" Patrol was located. Just, "it's on its way." He said it with such ease, the words seemed to slip out of his mouth and uncontrollably run away from him. Surely, it wouldn't take more than 15 minutes, not 30. It's Highway Patrol.

Easily an hour later, it arrived. Guess who was driving this po po car? None other than one of the guest speakers for my Driver's Ed. Yes. He didn't recognize me; or so i think.

Now this post is coming to a close. For lack of a better term, i do believe my brain has had an accident. The afternoon dragged on and did i mention the temperature? It was piping hot. Scalding temps. that seemed to surround me like a day-old, mushy, refrigerated cracker surrounds some cheese. Fabulous.

i Told him "my story". i Waited.

i Gave him my license and than he asked for "registration" not 1 second later and...sheer panic. He wanted a "little blue card". "Oh, no." i Thought to my poor decrepit self. Nevertheless, it was a piece of white paper. After giving the young man my effects, he took them away with the other mens' and hid away in his air conditioned car that is fit to do high-speed chases in the Dakota's, and most likely never needed in the little town by the water where they work. i Waited.

At last, he got out and gave us a clip board and a piece of paper on it that required personal information as well as "our story". He returned to his ever so comfortable car, while we filled out the necessary info. After giving that to him, he hunched over it for at least an hour and a half.

Meanwhile, a tow truck had to come and pick up the first vehicle that caused the commotion because the engine was somewhat out of tune. The car in the middle was hurt the worst. A 2010 Dodge. The year, twenty ten. (i.e. this year. i.e. it looked beyond supreme.)

A total of two hours and a half, gone like the bumper of a car. The start of summer ahead of me, and two cars (one with somebody not having a foot on the brake pedal; and one with someone preoccupied and not paying attention) behind me. It was a day to be sure. For after being released from the one in the dark car, i was told to go to the body shop and wait for the dad. Guess the time now? About five minutes before a sister must be picked up from the happy school. After waiting for sometime for my punctual busy father, he arrived and told me to go get my sister.

To end the day, some cousins showed up and i told this "tale of woe" and galvanized the band into despondency.

However, (yes there is not always those at the end of dreadfully sorrowful stories, here there's an exception) it was only Him who kept me calm. i Shook a little bit getting out of the car when it happened, but it was unbelievable how calm i felt. When it happened i came quite close to shrugging my shoulders and doing an amazing hand gesture that you can only do in places like the Heart of Darkness and, keep driving. Alas, i did not and it was handled patriotically with paper and missing pens and one lost boy that we're still not sure about; it only lacked flags.