Our high school schedule today ended with a "motivational speaker" named Joe White. Joe is 25 or so now, but when he was 14 he jumped from a moving vehicle under the influence of alcohol. As a result of hitting his head on a concrete curb at 35 mph, Joe is partially paralyzed and has difficulties with speech. His message to the teens in the room, and really to everyone, was to make smart decisions and make the best of the life you've been given and the second chances we all are given.
I appreciate Joe's message and I hope some of the yahoos in our school will remember to make some smart decisions also. It's estimated 70% or so of high school students drink alcohol. It doesn't take but one mistake, or one bone headed decision for something to end badly.
Look up Joe White on Facebook. His is a sad, but rewarding story. We can all learn from Joe's mistakes. Not all of the bad decisions we make involve alcohol. Some involve relationships and interactions with other humans. Take a moment to breathe and calm yourself and make a good decision.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Wear yer' gloves!
I cut the meaty left part of my palm below the thumb on my left hand on Saturday. More accurately, I gouged it with a putty knife. I had sharpened it on a flat metal file to use. I made the mistake of removing my work gloves temporarily, then neglected to put them on again. Sure enough, I was scraping away and it slipped and gouged into my hand. I remained calm and cupped my hand to catch all the blood. I didn't wish to alarm anyone in the house, namely the boys, so I went directly to the kitchen sink to wash the wound. Marian cleaned it up a bit and dressed it with some kind of goop from a tube and applied a big band aid to it and a couple strips of fabric tape to help keep it more secure than the bandage's adhesive alone. The bandage came off at some point later in the day and was never replaced.
It's really not that bad of a cut. It's really only about a half inch long and not at all deep. It could have been much worse. The cut itself is a pretty clean cut, the flesh was cut rather than torn, although it bled more like a puncture.
In retrospect I have identified a few places this could have been avoided. For one thing, I let the nasty grease build-up on the range top grow to such an extent that I was forced to take the drastic measure of taking a sharpened scraper to it. Although we both are good at wiping down the range top surface after use, we seldom take the time to genuinely try to to remove it and keep it removed by using chemical cleaners. We are in the habit of simply wiping it down with the wrung-out dishrag. Unfortunately the grease builds up imperceptibly until it is a complete eyesore and no chemical will touch it.
Secondly, I should have kept my gloves on. I'm in the habit of wearing my work thick leather work gloves for completing tasks like this one and others that are similar, (thank you dad and grandpa!) Ask my wife, (or don't) I have them stuffed everywhere: in the car, in the pickup, in the closet, by the door, in the workshop, in the pantry cabinet, in my underwear drawer, in my wife's underwear drawer...etc. You get the picture. I should have just kept them on while I performed my task, as is my habit, but for some reason, I forget now exactly why, I took them off for one thing, then didn't put them on. Probably, I was in a hurry to get in there and continue scraping off that grease.
I love wearing gloves. In a way, it makes a person superhuman. With work gloves on, I can scoop up live coals that have fallen from the campfire into my hand to chuck back in among the flames. I can handle hot metal and grasp thorny branches; I can work the handle of a shovel without blisters. I can gouge my left hand with a sharpened putty knife and withstand injury.
Simple pliers do much the same thing. Pliers turn ordinary hands into superhuman tools. They grip and hold safely when something is far too hot or cold to handle.They grip like, well...pliers. They're so handy I just feel invincible with my work gloves on my hands and my pliers snug away in my carpenter pants (another great invention, so practical and full of pockets for stuff!) and I'm ready to... to... go sit in the chair and read a book!
Learn from my experience. Gloves are cheap (at least you can pay what you want for them); so are pliers. And they're both readily available for purchase at the town and country store or auto parts store you like to shop. Get some and keep them nearby. Save your hands for your baby!
It's really not that bad of a cut. It's really only about a half inch long and not at all deep. It could have been much worse. The cut itself is a pretty clean cut, the flesh was cut rather than torn, although it bled more like a puncture.
In retrospect I have identified a few places this could have been avoided. For one thing, I let the nasty grease build-up on the range top grow to such an extent that I was forced to take the drastic measure of taking a sharpened scraper to it. Although we both are good at wiping down the range top surface after use, we seldom take the time to genuinely try to to remove it and keep it removed by using chemical cleaners. We are in the habit of simply wiping it down with the wrung-out dishrag. Unfortunately the grease builds up imperceptibly until it is a complete eyesore and no chemical will touch it.
Secondly, I should have kept my gloves on. I'm in the habit of wearing my work thick leather work gloves for completing tasks like this one and others that are similar, (thank you dad and grandpa!) Ask my wife, (or don't) I have them stuffed everywhere: in the car, in the pickup, in the closet, by the door, in the workshop, in the pantry cabinet, in my underwear drawer, in my wife's underwear drawer...etc. You get the picture. I should have just kept them on while I performed my task, as is my habit, but for some reason, I forget now exactly why, I took them off for one thing, then didn't put them on. Probably, I was in a hurry to get in there and continue scraping off that grease.
I love wearing gloves. In a way, it makes a person superhuman. With work gloves on, I can scoop up live coals that have fallen from the campfire into my hand to chuck back in among the flames. I can handle hot metal and grasp thorny branches; I can work the handle of a shovel without blisters. I can gouge my left hand with a sharpened putty knife and withstand injury.
Simple pliers do much the same thing. Pliers turn ordinary hands into superhuman tools. They grip and hold safely when something is far too hot or cold to handle.They grip like, well...pliers. They're so handy I just feel invincible with my work gloves on my hands and my pliers snug away in my carpenter pants (another great invention, so practical and full of pockets for stuff!) and I'm ready to... to... go sit in the chair and read a book!
Learn from my experience. Gloves are cheap (at least you can pay what you want for them); so are pliers. And they're both readily available for purchase at the town and country store or auto parts store you like to shop. Get some and keep them nearby. Save your hands for your baby!
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Well, there's good news to be told. One of my cousins will be married next month. My other cousin will be having a baby and get married, both in September. Now, I don't care who you are, that's good news! If you want a gritty realistic worldview that provides no room for good news and happy endings then go watch the evening news on one of the big three networks and leave us alone!
People might could use a little good news these days. Do you really want to hear more belly-aching about the economy or who is going to be the President next, or what's the matter with today's youth, and why can't things be like they used to be? Well, let me tell you something Johnny, these days are the best days. We here in the United States enjoy a level of prosperity and comfort never, ever known before in the entire history of the world. We've got it easy! I have it easy! You have it easy, too! So celebrate some people being in love and get over it!
That's probably the most gratuitous use of exclamation marks this blog has seen. Oh, what the heck. Let's add one more!
My kids are healthy. My family is healthy. I've got a good house and a couple reliable vehicles. I live in the United States in the great state of Kansas in a county named for one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence (Ben Franklin). I've got Netflix and wireless internet, what more do I need?
In the words of Navin R. Johnson, the Jerk, played by Steve Martin:
Navin R. Johnson: Well I'm gonna to go then! And I don't need any of this. I don't need this stuff, and I don't need *you*. I don't need anything. Except this.
[picks up an ashtray]
Navin R. Johnson: And that's the only thing I need is *this*. I don't need this or this. Just this ashtray... And this paddle game. - The ashtray and the paddle game and that's all I need... And this remote control. - The ashtray, the paddle game, and the remote control, and that's all I need... And these matches. - The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control, and the paddle ball... And this lamp. - The ashtray, this paddle game, and the remote control, and the lamp, and that's all *I* need. And that's *all* I need too. I don't need one other thing, not one... I need this. - The paddle game and the chair, and the remote control, and the matches for sure. Well what are you looking at? What do you think I'm some kind of a jerk or something! - And this. That's all I need.
[walking outside]
Navin R. Johnson: The ashtray, the remote control, the paddle game, and this magazine, and the chair.
Navin R. Johnson: [outside now] And I don't need one other thing, except my dog.
[Shithead growls at him]
Navin R. Johnson: I don't need my dog.
People might could use a little good news these days. Do you really want to hear more belly-aching about the economy or who is going to be the President next, or what's the matter with today's youth, and why can't things be like they used to be? Well, let me tell you something Johnny, these days are the best days. We here in the United States enjoy a level of prosperity and comfort never, ever known before in the entire history of the world. We've got it easy! I have it easy! You have it easy, too! So celebrate some people being in love and get over it!
That's probably the most gratuitous use of exclamation marks this blog has seen. Oh, what the heck. Let's add one more!
My kids are healthy. My family is healthy. I've got a good house and a couple reliable vehicles. I live in the United States in the great state of Kansas in a county named for one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence (Ben Franklin). I've got Netflix and wireless internet, what more do I need?
In the words of Navin R. Johnson, the Jerk, played by Steve Martin:
Navin R. Johnson: Well I'm gonna to go then! And I don't need any of this. I don't need this stuff, and I don't need *you*. I don't need anything. Except this.
[picks up an ashtray]
Navin R. Johnson: And that's the only thing I need is *this*. I don't need this or this. Just this ashtray... And this paddle game. - The ashtray and the paddle game and that's all I need... And this remote control. - The ashtray, the paddle game, and the remote control, and that's all I need... And these matches. - The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control, and the paddle ball... And this lamp. - The ashtray, this paddle game, and the remote control, and the lamp, and that's all *I* need. And that's *all* I need too. I don't need one other thing, not one... I need this. - The paddle game and the chair, and the remote control, and the matches for sure. Well what are you looking at? What do you think I'm some kind of a jerk or something! - And this. That's all I need.
[walking outside]
Navin R. Johnson: The ashtray, the remote control, the paddle game, and this magazine, and the chair.
Navin R. Johnson: [outside now] And I don't need one other thing, except my dog.
[Shithead growls at him]
Navin R. Johnson: I don't need my dog.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Really?
No comments? Really!?
I spend literally minutes of my time on a sporadic and unreliable schedule approximately once a month to write valuable content for my loyal readers, all eleven of them. I turn on my computer (that is, I switch on the power to the computer, I don't speak softly to it and turn down the lights and play saxophone music on the stereo) and access the internet thingy expecting to see some kind of reaction from you people and all I can read is the drivel I've written, which I already know and the "0 comments" statistic insulting me like an empty answering machine disappoints an expectant lover!
That last entry that served a lot like my obituary and what I hope to be known for when I die didn't elicit a single comment neither in support nor disdain?!
Not one single person commented, "Grow up Clayton! You live in Kansas, not Los Angeles or New York!" or, you shouldn't quit your day job, Clayton, because if you were going to be some kind of famous writer or actor it would have happened by now!"
No! Not one single supportive person wrote that they'd like to see my name on the cover of a book in every school across America, or on an Oscar winning movie now available on Netflix or three nights of the week on TBS!
What do I have to do to get some comments?!
Here's my plan. I'm going to run naked through the Sonic drive-thru yelling "Free the chili-cheese coney dogs!"
Now, would anyone like to comment?
I spend literally minutes of my time on a sporadic and unreliable schedule approximately once a month to write valuable content for my loyal readers, all eleven of them. I turn on my computer (that is, I switch on the power to the computer, I don't speak softly to it and turn down the lights and play saxophone music on the stereo) and access the internet thingy expecting to see some kind of reaction from you people and all I can read is the drivel I've written, which I already know and the "0 comments" statistic insulting me like an empty answering machine disappoints an expectant lover!
That last entry that served a lot like my obituary and what I hope to be known for when I die didn't elicit a single comment neither in support nor disdain?!
Not one single person commented, "Grow up Clayton! You live in Kansas, not Los Angeles or New York!" or, you shouldn't quit your day job, Clayton, because if you were going to be some kind of famous writer or actor it would have happened by now!"
No! Not one single supportive person wrote that they'd like to see my name on the cover of a book in every school across America, or on an Oscar winning movie now available on Netflix or three nights of the week on TBS!
What do I have to do to get some comments?!
Here's my plan. I'm going to run naked through the Sonic drive-thru yelling "Free the chili-cheese coney dogs!"
Now, would anyone like to comment?
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