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].

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[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.