A jobless bum and a ukulele

I do these to write. More for me than anything else. How I love to write. How I loath it. It’s really kind of a love-loath relationship. Well, what’s the news what’s the news. Alrighty. Whitney has a ukulele, she masters it even as I write. Currently she is working on “Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World”, we plan on singing a special in church “Sweet Hour of Prayer”.

                As of two weeks ago Tuesday I am a jobless bum. God is taking me through quite a waiting challenge to my sanity period. I really believe that the hardest part has been coping with being left to myself. God once again put his finger upon a choice rough area of my life; planning self-sufficient frenzy. Even though I have not had a regular job for two whole work weeks I still manage to stress myself out over scheduling what needs to be done. God is good and patient with me. The fruit of the Spirit peace was preached on Wednesday night at church, great reality check for me. Thankfully I can pick up a few security shifts at Heartland till I come into my fortune.

                I’m reading an extremely convicting and challenging book entitled, Loving God with All Your Mind, I highly recommend it and Lord-willing it will be integrated into our daily living. We will be “retiring” from bus captainship of Bus 4a at the end of the summer and are praying about another ministry opportunity. I’ll be signing my first song at church sometime this summer and have reason to be more nervous than I am.

                A while back we bought a couple of disc golf discs and then were given some more by friends moving away. I must confess that I have not been so into a sport since volleyball in high-school. Great fun and exercise with the added perk of having a course within walking distance (a vital weapon in my battle against going stir crazy). In other exercise news, we are in training for a 5k. Whitney despises running but adores programs and found a couch to 5k online. Tomorrow we run 15 minutes straight, neither of us looks forward to it.

                Before budget stream-lining and since last updating the blog we’ve discovered numerous crazy good local OKC restaurants. We have been unofficially dubbed the “good food people” in class. I baked my first from scratch cookies last week; twas a great test of my faith. Anything that cannot be tasted in the cooking process, altered along the way, and generally adlibbed is not my kitchen specialty. And despite my horrific ruination of the easy bake cookies i last attempted, these tasted edible... okay they were actually good.

                So there you have our life as of late. We miss you all and have a special place in our hearts for each of you, one that is not correlated with our amount of keeping in touch. Our feelings for you are not as mild as the summer so far has been (keep your fingers crossed okies). Goodbye for now. 

On Sitting Down with Intent Satiracle

In days ye olde the swiftest jon anatomized the art[1]

The magistrate[2] of prose and poem

By servings a la carte[3]

From royal prats to rank and vile[4], snide’s biting tool abused

Tom’s[5] jockey fought for Queen and Pawn[6]

Excessive use excused[7]

Sometimes it crept along a page, appeared irreverent joke

More oft the court[8] with handkerchiefs

Would chuckle broad brush strokes[9]

A pithy snort, a raging sneer, resounding cannon boom

Raise anarchy doll tyranny

But always spelling Doom[10]

[11]Come Wife of Bath[12], come Gongora[13], come Yuri’s three fat men[14]

With teacups raised[15] prepare for toasts

To Greek bred Syrians[16]

A Note from the Author[17]

All information neatly packed away into this piece of poetry was gleaned from the authors own well-spring of knowledge, Wikipedia, other Google generated links, and or simply made up[18].

---

[1] A somewhat obvious, but excusable, reference to Jonathan Swift’s book The Anatomy of Satire, which notably, is far lesser known than any other of his works.

[2] When we found that this poem could possibly be presented at a lower level education facility, commonly called “public school”, we felt constrained to point out that “the magistrate” is a reference, not to Swift, but satire itself.

[3] Continuing with his Swift theme, the author, rather daftly I’m afraid, uses a term relational to the hashery industry, calling upon the painfully famous composition “A Modest Proposal”.

[4] The author circles literacy, though choosing not to land, in his double entrende employment of the phrase “rank and vile”. The phrase alluding to both the, “rank and file” of the masses, and their state “rank and vile”.

[5] I feel it regrettable, inane, and sadly necessary to mention that “Tom” is short for tomfoolery.

[6] Charles Dodgson’s affection for chess, coupled with his deft handling of current world through poetry (dare I go so far as to denote a certain tusked mammal and a woodsmith), clearly intimate that the author    (blushingly mentioned in the same sentence as “The Dodge”) pays homage to his part in the evolution of satire.

[7] Just as one plus one is two, so the use of satire to critique both plebian and ruler can be perceived as excessive. A lesser man would point out that the sum of two dolts is less than the whole, but I will leave such observations to the author.

[8] Though I have been lead to believe that today’s youth will immediately assume the word court refers to a judge and jury, I will not.

[9] The author points to the harsh, though humorously factual, stereotypes with which the upper class satire the whole of lower society.

[10] The fact that an entire stanza of the author’s poem requires but one footnote, should be a tell-tale sign to the amateur writer. Nonetheless, an important aspect of satire is conveyed, its glorious power to wield the sword.

[11] Though handled with all the daftness expected of the author, the sheer obscurity and rapidity of the references to follow are enough to nearly redeem him as the worst candidate to ever to take up pen.

[12] A small narrative character in Geoffrey Chaucer’s brilliant but unfortunately well received book The Canterbury Tales.

[13] The impressively non-impactful and brilliantly non- remembered Spanish lyric poet Louis de Gongora, an indistinct splash on the satirical canvas, making his mention highly delightful.

[14]Yuri Olesha haply forgotten by the common soul, but not so fortunate his Russian fairy tale “Three Fat Men” left an indelible mark on Russian society, a point blank referral leaves somewhat of distaste in the literate mouth.

[15] The use of teacup immediately conjures up Alexander Pope and his extensive use of the mock heroic, i.e. “the storm in a teacup”. Though the logistics are a mere stepping stone to the true critic, doubtless it must have seemed a rickety bridge spanning a wide chasm to the author.

[16] Though its simplicity causes me to blush, even a cheap, staggering, and misshapen endeavor to summarize satire must include a nod to Lucian of Samosata the scoffer, writer in Greek, ethnic of Assyria.

[17] Hasn’t he done enough?

[18] I shouldn’t wonder. 

Still here...

For those wondering; we are still here. The recent trip home was a blast, as evidenced through the apple pictures. The family completely spoiled us during our Christmas in October with many lavish gifts. It is better to give than to receive, so I can't imagine how much they enjoyed it, I'm just glad we were able to be a blessing :-)

Watching God slowly increase demands on our time and responsibilities has been awesome. It is so assuring to see how He leads if we will take a back seat and concentrate on seeking Him. We are now deeply involved in Couples Class, Deaf Ministry, and Bus at Southwest and are finding it healthily challenging. I believe my greatest struggle comes from trying to cope with the "pressure"; after mucking around God lovingly reminds me that I am not called to cope with it, but to know Him. Isn't He.

We are enjoying Oklahoma's autumnal November and even sweeping old roof shingles off our porch is pallatable in the coolness. There is a cat in our no pet building and I have a mighty suspicion that I know who. The apartment is going to do a search of our building and I am typically grateful of the lack of rights renters possess. In other random news I thought up a way to feel okay about the social security money that comes out of our paychecks, it is the tax I pay to live in America (not the one that funds the government, it's like the price you pay to be able to shop at Sam's Club).

Recently we won third place in a cornbread contest with a green chilevariation that we threw together in less time than the reccomended cook time on the jiffy box (lost all our winnings to forgetfullness). This took place at the hayride in the above picture, of which Whitney and I could barely stand to look at ourselves in the mirror. Borrowed the entire gettup and confirmed our city slickerness by literally having to ask which way the cowboy hats faced.

Life is beautiful, so are you. From us to you for life we say these things out loud with our voices.

And With the Cool Weather Comes Adventure

This evening finds us in much more of a relaxing setting than did three days ago. House-sitting is becoming quite a regular pleasure. Our house is once again equipped with giant tv, cute dog, and an invitation to eat whatever we find. Ravioli and Capri Sun for dinner, myself in a mini recliner and Whit making our wedding book online. Let’s see, about this time on Saturday we were staggering down the Wichita Mountains dripping and grateful to be alive. I’ll get to that later; let me get you up to speed since Labor Day.

Praise the Lord! A cool front finally came in, We Love September! We Love Fall! I Love Climbing into my Car and not Feeling my Receding Crown Instantly Breaking a Sweat! Multiple pleasant evenings have been spent sitting in our porch glider drinking tea and reading. I made a mad chili last week, and we can’t wait to bike ride around Lake Hefner. This month also brings advancement to job situations. Whitney went full time at Crown Plaza, as we’ve been hoping she would, and I got promoted (and received a raise).

Labor Day was probably the most memorable of our lives. To (pronounced toe), my Vietnamese mother/co-worker, made good on her promise to teach us how to make fried rice (oh yeah!). We arrived at her house Saturday afternoon (after numerous failed attempts to give us directions over the phone resulting in her Americanized daughter saving us), and walked into a house chalk full of Vietnamese. The only white guy quickly came up, introduced himself as Paul, and made us feel a little less awkward. We had a blast! Whitney hit it off with To’s daughter, we stayed later than most everyone and they conversed about wedding plans past and present. Plus we can now make killer fried rice.

Urban Exploration has quieted down a bit, though this past Friday brought us a true hole in the wall joint (from the outside made a re-run of nigh rider look professional). Bobo’s Chicken… that’s right, Bobo’s Chicken, except I’m pretty sure that there was no apostrophe on the sign. A chicken stand in the ghetto of OKC where the chicken is smoked, fried, then doused with honey. Also included in the wings and thighs as your only option, and also doused with honey, are biscuits and fries. Found out the hard way, they regularly open up two hours later than the listed time (5 pm), but I’m sure they always stay open until their listed 3am. It was quite an experience, which paled in comparison to Saturday, a day that was as I like to say, the stuff life is made of.

The Heartland Couples Class took a trip to the Wichita Mountains in southern Oklahoma. Whitney and I signed up to go on a picnic, once the activity had begun we found out that a hike up the mountain was part of the program (we thought it was a bad day for jean skirt and converse, we had no idea). The weather was beautiful and the hike up the mountain was rigorous but extremely enjoyable. Looking over the landscape from the peak was incredible, wind blowing over us, the sound of thunder in the distance. A second peak of the mountain was our second destination and then back to the bus before rain. Somewhere in between peaks we split off from the group and got completely lost, disturbingly separated from the trail, utterly out of ear shot. We attempted going down the mountain and encountered a drop off then backtracked. We attempted going down the mountain came to a drop off and then backtracked. We attempted going down the mountain came to a drop off and then backtracked. No, your eyes don’t deceive you, I did just repeat that three times, unfortunately we did not…only repeat that three times. Poor Whitney was exhausted while we were still looking for the trail on top of the mountain. Thankfully though she was wearing a straight jean skirt, so clambering over the waist to shoulder high boulders was a breeze, considering that it started to downpour on us. Finally the trail was located (now rather flooded) and we followed it down the mountain until we ran into forest/brush on every side of us (suspiciously non-trail looking). Ernest Hemingway described these parts of the mountain as the cast-iron forest, so we naturally tried to blaze our own trail, till Whitney got a cactus in her leg. It was about this time we heard voices (the search party sent out for us only right before they accidentally almost left us). The trail was once again located and we slip and slid down the mountain into the arms of much love and graciousness, the exact opposite words I would use to describe the soaked, two hour freezing bus ride home.

You’ll have to forgive the extended nature of this post, I know of no other way to convey the above story with fewer words. Here are a few more, we love you all. Can’t wait to see those of you north in a couple of weeks!

Good Literature + Good Food + Great Marriage = Our Life

It is a happy state of existence to realize that your life is more ideal than you could have imagined. I used to dream of being an English professor and living alone, walking home on foggy evenings to a cappuccino and Oscar Wilde. A recent and glorious shot of reality made that idealistic fantasy look feeble. Whitney and I sat sipping tea and listening to a summer thunder-storm, it was so picturesque that I grabbed a volume of James Whitcomb Riley and proceeded to read poetry aloud as she knit. Life isn't about waiting for the next exciting event, it's about treasuring every moment in stride. So here follows some of the recent moments we've found wonderful.

Waiting at the mechanic holding hands and watching French cooking shows. Cooking dinner for my wife as she rocks in a comfy chair reading to me. Tucking ourselves into bed with steaming cups of peppermint cocoa and whip cream to be entertained by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Going for early morning walks at Dolese Park. Arriving home to the aroma of British cheese and onion bread. Watching the sun set over Lake Hefner. Pointing out and agreeing on care-a-bear and dragon shaped clouds. Sitting on a grassy hill next to old rail-road tracks eating Italian style pizza. Sketching at a locally roasted coffee shop downtown. Asking for one more kiss goodnight and really meaning one more kissing session. Reading 101 Dalmatians in a quiet public park until it was so dark that we had to squint to finish. Praying together over England, our bus route, and families. Pausing in the middle of a blog post to listen to La Vi En Rose with Whitney's head on my shoulder. Listening to the unabridged Jane Eyre and spazzing out over whether or not she will end up with Mr. Rochester. All of them beautiful memories, very few of them planned.

The Lord is good, much better than we deserve. To those of you married, enjoy it. To those of you single, enjoy it. To those of you we love, goodnight.

p.s. you might have realized that almost all of those ideal settings involve food and or reading, 155lb and holding.

p.p.s. the pic is the brilliant British bread, Whitney speaketh below in the wedge of potatoe recipe, heed her, for she cooketh well.

Wedge of Potatoe

Yes, yes for a bit of potato yumminess now...

Ingredients needed:

1 to 2 tablespoons of Olive Oil

1 Tablespoon of Onion Powder

1 Tablespoon of Garlic Powder

1 Tablespoon of Basil

Salt and Pepper to taste

Potatoes (its supposed to be 2 or 3 if you want more just add more of everything else)

Cheese of your choice whatever kind you have on hand (with the exception of American) will be fine. And just add as much as you like but you'll definitely need more than 1/2 a cup.

Honestly everything to taste I'm sure I added more of it than a tablespoon each

Before the first step make sure to pre-heat your oven to 425 degrees.

First I cut the glorious potatoes into wedges probably just in 8ths or something.

Then I got out a gallon zip lock bag and put the Olive Oil and spices in it... If other spices strike your fancy add those too, I'm sure I would. For Example, Paprika for spice, or Rosemary, Oh Rosemary is yummy on potatoes and so are Chives. I like Oregano on it as well. Actually Rosemary is just good in general. Just add what you are in the mood for.

Make sure you kind of mix them all in there before you put the potatoes in.

Then put the potatoes in and dance around the kitchen shaking the bag vigorously. This is not essential but adds an element of fun and exercise to the making of the potatoes.

Then put your seasoned potato wedges on a cookie sheet (you may need to lightly grease it)

Cook them for anywhere between 25 to 35 mins or however long it takes for them to get cooked all the way through and maybe a little crunchy on the edges.

Put the cheese on top and pop it back in the oven for 5 to 10 mins or until the cheese is melty.

Take them out and enjoy some Oven Baked Potato Wedges of Truth and Justice.

So very much craziness... so very much fun

We live in an ever eventful world, where events ever happen to persons such as ourselves. These events, ever happening as they are, have happened in an especially ever-eventful way since last I updated such dignified personages as yourselves. In short, I have much to say; in long, re-read the first two sentences five times.The series of events that have made up the last 13 days are these (pictures included to increase your visualization).

Two Sundays ago, my car finally began to look its age. This was not due to my driving, but rather my parking. As notoriously bad as my parking is, this is probably the worst parking job in my infamous history (yes even worse than the five tries during my driving test). I parked in front of barn, harmless enough, or so it was until the barn burnt down. The front of my car is now melted, looking much like an old man with his dentures out. Ironically it still drives the same, even the headlight bulbs work. However, now that my car looks elderly, it decided to act that way and cripple itself the following Saturday by blowing a tire. Alas and forsooth, the wonders of a 13 year old Saturn.

Honestly though, I would almost prefer this happenstance if in some way it allowed Whitney and I to find ourselves where currently we are. House sitting, for pay, at a spanking nice house with netflix, a huge tv, remodeled kitchen, and crazy cute yorky named (don't hold your breath), "Princess Jasmine Topaz" (who i fondly call jazzy, or jozadech). We have made much use of the tv and little of the kitchen as both of us worked five days this week and were sick for each of them. You win some, you lose some, and some you scrape off the floor with a putty knife.

Other notable events this week include: Making home-made salsa (the art is now a pic), finding the absolute best pizza place in all of oklahoma (yes!), going on a Dr. Who binge, and saying goodbye to a dear friend on his way to China. We love and miss each of you regardless of your relation to China, and or putty knives.