Home Sweet Home

I am officially in my new town home. I have to get dressed to take a shower, in my old place, until the hot water gets hooked up and one of my kitchen cabinets is sitting on my counter instead of hanging proudly on the wall. There are a host of minor items that need addressing, but HALLELUJAH, I'm in! They did a fantastic job on this place and after almost nine years in the old place, this is heaven. Walking on this carpet makes my old 9+yr old carpet feel like walking on fuzzy concrete.

My youngest daughter and my 'adopted' daughter are in paradise because they get to decorate. They have some really great ideas and some, well, we will see. I had to pull back on the reins a little or they would have spent my next 5 paychecks.

The office is also almost ready. I can show it, but there is no furniture and there is no office type items like desk, internet, phone, computer, but soon.

I would describe myself right now as ...Ahhh, I'm home!

I can smell the food. I can see the food. When do I get to eat it?

Being a fat guy, the illustration I used the other day to describe my feelings about the state of progress on the model unit for my apartment complex seems apropos. I said I feel like I am sitting at the dinner table, enjoying the pleasing aromas of a well cooked meal. I see someone bring my plate of food to the doorway of the dining room and the meal looks divine! As soon as the person bringing my meal walks through the doorway, they stop. They stand there allowing the fragrance of the meal to overwhelm the room, filling my nostrils with heaven. I can see the juiciness of the pot roast, the creaminess of the mashed potatoes, the fluffiness of the biscuits, but the plate is still resting on someone else's hand just out of my reach. HUNGRY YET?

As I mentioned in an earlier post, the model unit is close to completion. Today, I walked through it and made a short list of items that still needed completion. The place is looking incredible. Imagine that greasy diner your family quietly left before ordering on your last vacation, then imagine the 5 star restaurant you raved to friends and family about until they begged you to take them there. Got the pictures firmly embedded in your mind? Those two places are closer to each other than what the old #2 and the new model unit are. I exaggerate only slightly.

I have lived in this same town home for the last 9 years. I have been working in some capacity on this complex for over three years and I can not express how overjoyed I am at having a 54 town homes that look like the model and the property being a place people vie to live.

So while I am still drooling, it is a happy drool, because I know in a very short time, I am going to eat!

It's written in the clouds!

Tonight, after a long, hard, exasperating, disheartening day, I decided to take a walk in the cool of the evening. As I was just about to end my stroll, I looked up and was greeted by low lying, thin clouds rushing across the sky like a teenage boy late for his first date. It was then that the Lord brought this thought to my mind, "It's over." My day was done and all the frustration was over. What a glorious thought! The people who I allowed to dampen my day, the experiences that were less than enjoyable, the struggles I had dealt with were now done. Sure, I will have to deal with some of these people again, and yes, some of the struggles will reappear, but, for now, it's over. I can lay my head on my soft pillow and rest. Thank you, God, for bringing me through another day, and thanks for the message in the clouds!

Why is it taking sooooooo long?

So I'm feeling like an overeager child waiting for Christmas, but as an adult, I have to be excited about more work. I'm the property manager at a small town home complex that is currently undergoing renovation. Right now, I have 11 tenants, so basically, my job is cake. The remodeling that is going on is extensive and greatly needed. The new owners decided they wanted a property that people didn't run screaming away from once they got inside. I like their philosophy. I have lived on the property for 9 years and am almost beside myself waiting to see what a nice place looks like. The model unit has been in "It will be ready by Friday" status for over a month and I am going crazy waiting. It is particularly annoying recently as I can see how great it is going to look. but there is just a long list of details to finish. ARGGGGHHH. Funny thing is, once this model is done, I will actually have to start working, marketing and the like. What an adult...jumping up and down for more work...:D

Old Man Winters takes a trip down South!
...Greenville, SC to be exact.

Pick my new profile picture.

I can't decide which of these pictures to make my profile picture, so could y'all help me out and tell me which one you prefer?
Thanks

So I am a monkey's Uncle



















Always sticking my head where it doesn't belong

So another year has past and a new one has begun. It’s time to reflect on the past and plan for the future. Ok, that is what everyone says and few do. I did a little of both yesterday and this evening. I remember that 2007 was a year full of big failings, large mess-ups and great disappointments and if I stopped there depression would be my best friend, but 2007 was much more than that. There were small victories, like losing 30+ pounds, being slightly more consistent in daily routines, and going to church more often. This year was also a year when God showed Himself to me in mighty ways and with grace beyond measure. The entire ordeal of my herniated disc showed me much of God and led me to a closer relationship with Him. He taught me faith, chastised me for failing to bring glory to Him through my relationships with my employees and partner. He burdened me to be content in whatever situation He places me. 2007 was a good year.

Now on to 2008. The question on my board for this year is: “Where are you?”

God asked Adam this when he sinned, not because God didn’t know where he was, but He asked to make Adam consider his actions and decisions. I will be asking myself that question this year to make me think about what I am doing every day. Am I closer to God? Am I more disciplined? Am I closer to being debt-free? Am I closer to finishing my novel? I could go on, but you get the point. I spent an hour or two tonight writing out a list of goals for 2008. I am on the second page and am not done. I know ‘they’ say not to bite off more than you can chew, but I know that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I also know there is a lot that Eric has been slacking on and it is time to wake up and get to work.

Well, the party is over, the reveling is done. It’s time to buckle down and make 2008 remarkable.

Happy New Year, y’all!

A swinging good Christmas!

I celebrated Christmas with my daughters and one daughter's boyfriend today. It was FANTASTIC! I have two daughters, Jeni & Laura and a 'daughter', Marla that I sort of adopted. My youngest daughter's best friend, is basically a part of my family now,so I say I have 3 daughters. When the girls came over this afternoon and added their presents for me and each other, my tree looked like it was being overwhelmed. The girls were insightful in their gift buying, not only buying things off my list, but since I like to cook and they like it when I cook, they decided I needed some things to cook with and filled my kitchen with new kitchen wares. This is especially nice, since I will be moving into a new town home in a month or so and would love to start my kitchen off right. I was able to give them a surprise or two, so the gift giving was great.

The highlight of the evening came with their final three gifts for me. First, I opened a gift to discover a silk white tie, then another revealed a pair of white suspenders and finally a five dollar bill. I was literally scratching my head trying to figure out the significance, when Laura gave me the clue that tied the gifts together, swing dance lessons and dancing. Laura has been swing dancing for sometime, she met her boyfriend swing dancing. She has wanted me to go for the longest time and I have wanted to, but have always been too busy. The girls decided to find the time for me. They wanted me to look the swing dance era part and they all wanted to dress up, so that explains the gifts. I must say, I did look dapper! Now, if all it took to be a good swing dancer was looking good, I would have been a star. Unfortunately, you have to learn some steps and put them together with some spins and a partner and music and well, let's just say, I need more practice. I had a blast, even being nervous about having 3 left feet, didn't stop me from having fun. This was Jeni's first time as well and she took to it like a fish to water. I am so busy concentrating on the steps that I lose the music, so my natural rhythm is stymied and when I focus on the song, I forget the steps and then get flustered. I am going to find some links that teach this and practice, so I can catch up to Laura & Robert (her boyfriend) and keep up with Jeni & Marla. This wasn't Marla's first time and you could tell. She helped me some with keeping my body centered. Marla's brother Michael-b went with us. He has learned some from Laura and Marla, but this was his first time at the club. It was like pulling teeth to get him to leave when we were headed to Denny's. He was good and smooth with the ladies.
I think for me, the best part of tonight was simply having the family together and having fun. I miss that and thoroughly enjoyed.

God gave what man needed even when man didn't want it.

Merry Christmas, Everyone

A proud dad showing off his daughter's work.

I'm going to be a typical dad and show off a paper my youngest daughter recently turned in for her English class at North Greenville University. She is an excellent writer and this paper really shows that.

Enjoy:

Harmonious Dissonance:

African-American Cultural Hybridity in the Harlem Renaissance

Voices heard or unheard, voices of different tone and pitch, voices from different walks of life, voices lyrical and poetic, voices direct or even mundane have called out, intertwined in struggle and purpose, exposing the harmonious dissonance that is African-American identity. Pulled from a swamp of oppression, ill treatment, and shame, African-Americans in the 1920’s faced a social atmosphere of racial tension, which required them to face head-on the problem of double consciousness. Would the black man become “white” in order to gain acceptance in culture? Would he dull his “African-ness” and become a whispered African in order to become a shouted American? Did only the racist majority define a black woman by the color of her skin or did she confine herself to be dictated by her exterior in the name of black pride or supporting the beauty of her race?

The voices of the Harlem Renaissance speak to this plight. Looking through the lens of American literature, specifically that of the Harlem Renaissance, one can gain incredible insight into the struggle of cultural hybridity for the African American. The literature exposes the precarious balance between African and American and the fight for the ability to enjoy one’s current country and yet remember one’s roots. Not every voice within the era sang the same tune. Some voices rang out deep and strong for the beauty of the African race and defied any attempt to be made white, while others sang their own song as an individual and sought to keep race on the exterior instead of internalizing it into who they were as a human being.

Langston Hughes

“One of the most promising of the young Negro poets said to me once, ‘I want to be a poet – not a Negro poet,’ meaning, I believe, ‘ I want to write like a white poet’; meaning subconsciously ‘I would like to be a white poet’; meaning behind that, ‘I would like to be white.’ And I was sorry the young man said that, for no great poet has ever been afraid of being himself.” (Hughes 1512) This quote from Hughes epitomizes the driving force behind Hugh’s mentality. Langston Hughes possessed a strong African voice. He spoke out against the black culture of the day that, in his eyes, tried to be as white as possible in order to fit in and have a successful life. Hughes saw this as a denial of an African-American’s true identity and an affront to black culture. To Hughes, the greatest thing was to be black and to be proud of it. In his poem “I, Too” he unveils this superior mentality through the smug laughter of the narrator. Even though the white men had always demeaned the black man, he stood strong and proud of his beauty and worth. Hughes wrote a series of short stories entitled, “Laughing to Keep From Crying” in some of which he portrayed multiple situations of black men with white men and the ensuing events depicting the social landscape and attempting to bring out the superiority of African-Americans. Hughes’s voice was very clear on his opinion concerning race. The black race was a beautiful race that had been suppressed and denied the right to glory in their worth. Hughes used his pen to paint African colors and emotions in such a way that would inspire his race to rise up and take a stand. Hughes’s works teemed with the theme of African-American identity and he pushed with all of his might that African-American’s might recognize their heritage and beauty instead of assimilating into the colorless world around them.

Claude McKay

“For the dim regions whence my fathers came / My spirit, bondaged by the body, longs.” ( 1922) Claude McKay’s voice joined Langston Hughes in his support of the African portion of the African-American identity. Although not an American by birth, McKay’s literature addresses keenly the struggle of the African-American, and his work speaks to suppression of African culture. The above quote is from McKay’s poem “Outcast” which bemoans the loss of the African-American’s identity due to the influence of the west. When McKay penned the words, “My soul would sing forgotten jungle songs. / But the great western world holds me in fee, / And I may never hope for full release / While to its alien gods I bend my knee, / Something in me is lost, forever lost, / Some vital thing has gone out of my heart, / And I must walk the way of life a ghost” (1689) he vibrantly illustrated what occurred when, from his perspective, African American’s became “Americanized.” The “whitening” of a black man was more than just an accommodation or assimilation; it was a stealing of soul and worth. A black man under the intense pressure of a white world was not free to be who he really was. McKay, like Hughes, depicted this struggle and painted pictures of African-American culture. He used his voice to sing out in harmony with Hughes to support the African of an African-American.

Zora Neal Hurston

“But I am not tragically colored. There is no great sorrow dammed up in my soul, nor lurking behind my eyes. I do not mind at all. … Even in the helter-skelter skirmish that is my life, I have seen that the world is to the strong regardless of a little pigmentation more or less. No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster.” (Hurston 1711) In dissonance with the songs of Hughes and McKay, the song Hurston sings sounds less strongly of black pride, and heavier of individuality. Rather than depicting the pain, sorrow and oppression of African-American culture and allowing the promotion of her race to drive her, Hurston used her knowledge of her culture and study of the oral narrative tradition to present balanced pictures of African-American life. She did write about her culture and history, but not with the same driving passion and burning anger and resentment of Hughes. Hurston sought to balance her life as an individual with her roots and her depiction of that in her writing. In “How It Feels to Be Colored Me,” Hurston uses the analogy of colored bags containing basically the same contents, give or take an item or two to describe humans of different skin color. Unlike Hughes’s and McKay’s poetry intertwining so deeply the color of a man’s skin to his soul, Hurston uses this analogy to show that the color of skin, the exterior need not define the soul of a being. While not dismissing the culture and totally assimilating into a white world, Hurston’s voice sang a different tune than that of other authors during the Harlem Renaissance by pulling a step back and identifying herself as an individual rather than a black woman.

Phylis Wheatly

“'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land, / Taught my benighted soul to understand / That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too: / Once I redemption neither sought nor knew. / Some view our sable race with scornful eye, / "Their colour is a diabolic die." / Remember, Christians, Negro's, black as Cain, / May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.” (Wheatly) While not actually a writer of the Harlem Renaissance, Phylis Wheatly was the first black woman poet and offers a distinctly different song. In the struggle of African-American hybridity and the fight for identity, the voice of Phylis Wheatly sings a sweeter, calmer, more peaceful song. Wheatly herself was a slave and of all of these writers seems to have the most reason to be bitter and fight for black freedom and pride. However, while in slavery, Wheatly was introduced to Christ and became a believer. This transformation in her life caused her to find blessing in what others considered the worst curse. Wheatly’s treatment of America within her literature was gracious and loving, for it was the place that brought her to her Savior. The slave ship was not a ship of death and oppression for Wheatly. She even chose to keep the name given her by her owners, which is something that would have been an affront to the later African-American writers like Hughes. This first published black woman author presents irony when contrasted to the later Harlem Renaissance authors, but her calm peaceful tone as a result of the change Christ had made in her heart might be a healing balm in the wounds of present day African-American culture if one looks deeper for the reason, and sees Christ, not an African-American woman selling out to the white world around her.

Jazz

“Jazz to me is one of the inherent expressions of Negro life in America: the eternal tom-tom beating in the Negro Soul – the tom-tom of revolt against weariness in a white world, a world of subway trains, and work, work, work; the tom-tom of joy and laughter, and pain swallowed in a smile.” (Hughes 1512) Langston Hughes’s “definition” of jazz begins to touch on the importance of this music to African-American culture. With so many voices intertwining in this identity struggle, jazz was almost a centralization, a unified voice of African-American identity. Rooted in the Negro spirituals and some would claim, even deeper in African music, jazz is truly African-American, truly hybrid. The rise in urbanization brought spirituals to the city and intertwined the city life of black men and women with the rhythms and soulful expressions of African music. Langston Hughes viewed jazz as essential to African-American culture and used it as a voice to speak the heart of his people. “The Weary Blues” takes on the form and rhythm of the music it depicts and the reader can almost feel more of the meaning within this poem than he could read straight off of the page. Zora Neal Hurston, in “How it Feels to be Colored Me”, seems to claim that one of the differences between her race and others is contained within the ability to relate to jazz. As an African-American, this music speaks deep into her soul and pulls from within her the African that sometimes lies sleeping, while a white man simply enjoys the toe-tapping tunes he hears. The syncopation and improvisation of jazz broke into the heavily structured music around it and awoke something within listeners that gave it a communicative ability unmatched, some would claim even to this day. Jazz affected the form of literature by infusing a musical strain into words, but it also dug deep into the struggle and soul of a culture. The music that originated simply within the African-American sphere spread like wildfire and transformed the whole of musicality. “The ability of African performance arts to transform the European tradition of composition while assimilating some of its elements is perhaps the most striking and powerful evolutionary force in the history of modern music.” (Gioia 8) The power that jazz possessed within culture could have stemmed from many things, but when considered in conjunction with the literature and the social landscape of the time, it seems that some of its power comes from the fire it was born out of. Jazz is not simply a little tune someone came up with one day; Jazz is the expression of thousands of souls, the cries of millions of voices, the heartbeat of a culture steeped in turmoil. With that source, it is no wonder that it transformed the landscape of music.

The unique, harmonious yet dissonant song of hybridity for the African-American weaved throughout a tumultuous landscape in the 1920’s and further and left that land forever changed. What is an African-American? No unified answer responds to that haunting question. Even into the present authors and artists still fight for a definition. The struggle, however, left behind a beautiful legacy and inspired a nation. This battle for identity continues almost inevitably because the tension forever remains. The hyphen always separates the African from the American, but somewhere along the line there comes a recognition of an identity that does not lose itself in that struggle.

Things are seldom what they seem.

Like most people, I make snap judgments about people based on their surface behavior. I bark at the woman who takes my spot at the gas station. I shake my head at the parent that appears to be neglecting their child at the store. I listen to people say things about family, friends, co-workers, bosses, neighbors, etc. and decide I know enough about these people to form an intelligent opinion. When in reality, I don't know enough, I don't have all the facts, I may very well be wrong in my opinion.

We tend to forget that people are the sum of their life experiences, that people can be annoying and endearing, lazy and hard working, polite and rude all in one body. We seldom can be defined by one action or one series of actions. Sure, people have distinct personalities, they display repetitive behaviors, but these things are not necessarily who they are.

The clerk that does not fawn over you like you are the greatest person she has ever met when you buy your soda and candy bar might not even be responding to you. She may be sad and distracted because her child is at home sick and she can't be there to take care of him. She might have just been cussed at by the last three customers and is simply wanting to avoid #4. She might be attracted to you, but is painfully shy. She might also be a rude, arrogant person. The point is, give people the benefit of the doubt. Also, it is not all about you.

All restrictions lifted.

Sounds like I was just let out of "time-out". In actuality, that was what my surgeon told me today. She said that since she was certain that she removed all the offending disc, and since I appear to feel absolutely, positively no pain, that I can resume my old life style. Ok, not quite my old life style. I realized after I left her office that I will have to adjust how I do things if I want to see her again only in the supermarket, theater, etc. I have always been the "big guy", the guy everyone turns to when they need to move or they need some heavy work done. I also am the guy that gets frustrated waiting for help moving things and simply muscles through. No more! I have to be smart, lift properly, wait for help, allow others (preferably younger "big guys") to do some of the work. This will be especially trying when I am on a job site, wanting to get started and there is some over-sized file cabinet that MUST be moved before we can start. I will fight the urge to just shove it out of the way myself. I think I can adjust. I also have to begin the stretching and strengthening exercises that Dr. Mina gave me. I need to make this as much a part of my daily routine as brushing my teeth. Problem is, brushing my teeth never takes 45 minutes, so I will have to work on it.

I am so blessed and can not stop praising Him for his help in all things disc related.

So much happens on the way to blogging!

I have intended to, planned to, decided to, etc, blog for days now. Lately, I have felt that my life was like a journey down a river. Sometimes, I have enjoyed floating carelessly in a sturdy paddle boat on a slow meandering river, being lulled into a peaceful state of mind. Other times, I have been desperately clinging to a thin piece of cardboard as I hurtle down a Class 6 white water rapids, certain that things couldn't get worse, only to find that they can! I know that sounds overly dramatic, but at times, it fairly describes what is occurring in my life. I am learning to be content in both situations and the myriad of experiences that fall between the two extremes. Often, I have wanted to stop and blog about things, good, bad and indifferent, but I don't. I come to this page, sign in and stop, wondering, "Do you really want to hear this?" "What should I say?" "Forget it, I will do this tomorrow." Thus, no new entries. Maybe I will write again soon.

Ahhh, finally a great work weekend!

How do I express my immense satisfaction at how this past weekend's work went? I had two potentially difficult jobs to do. Jobs where I would have to rely one of my helpers to run the buffer because I have not been released by Dr. Mina to do work. Adding to my possible migraine was concern about whether I would have sufficient numbers of workers to accomplish the tasks and whether those workers would be up to the job, physically and mentally.

Not only did I not run into the problems I envisioned, the jobs ran smoother than any had in a long time. The guys worked together like cogs in a well-oiled machine. My #1 man ran the buffer and basically, the job, like it was second nature to him. Oh, and the floors turned out fabulous.

Irony is life's gift to the arrogant!

A friend of mine related this story recently and I had to post it here. He owns a small business and has a valued employee who is very sure of himself. His opinions are golden. Wrong is a word from a foreign language to him. My friend mentioned that he had hired a guy to help them on one job. His employee said that he was not happy about the hiring. He had seen the guy before, had brief, meaningless small talk with him and had concluded that there was something wrong with him, some character flaw, something that he knew would make him not be able to work with the new guy. This employee mentioned his displeasure with this one time addition on a number of occasions, not being able to point out a specific problem, but reiterating that he KNEW that this new guy was going to say or do something on the job that would cause him to get upset and it would not be a good thing. My friend held firm to his decision feeling that his own assessment of the new employee, based on observing him working elsewhere and comments by others who worked around him were more valid than a nebulous 'gut-feeling' The day came for the job and my friend started the day with a small sense of impending doom, fearing a clash of personalities. His fears were unwarranted. The new guy worked well with the 'knowing' employee and the rest of the crew. They all got along seemingly well, even to the point of the valued employee talking about using the new guy on another job, bigger and more important. My friend said the highlight of his day came as the crew sat around and chatted. The new guy mentioned that he had decided that the valued employee was not the friendly type and was a bit surly. He said that he just knew this from the few times they had briefly spoken, said he could tell things about people from just one or two meetings. He said he sometimes just knew that some folks were a certain way, by merely meeting them.
Can you say IRONY?

The world would be a great place to live if we could just get rid of all the people!

I get so tired of people sometimes. Being a property manager of an apartment complex, esp. of a complex that is being remodeled and owing a small business which requires having helpers and clients leads to the inevitable frustration of dealing with people. I get tired of people straining to find ways to get over on you or get out their responsibilities. I am exhausted from dealing with arrogance, self-absorption, childish behavior, personality clashes, hypocrisy, and laziness. I can hardly keep my head up from the daily stupidity I see. And when I take a minute from condemning the entire human race, I have to look at one of the biggest frustrations in human form...ME. Just when I get going full steam ahead on a track of self righteousness, I get derailed because I have to see my own failings and I must stop to take the beam out of my own eye.

Now that doesn't add up.

Take the bills for my regular physician add to them the charges I incurred from physical therapy, add the MRI bill and Dr. Mina's cost for my surgery and the amount that the anesthesiologist hit me with for his services during surgery and you would still be $10, 000.00 short of what it costs me to spend about 7 hours in the hospital. I received the bill for the hospital charges today. The total charge was $22, 504.50. That figure breaks down to a little over $2, 800.00 an hour or $46.00 a minute. No wonder many people don't get the health care they desperately need. I am blessed because God worked it out so I am receiving financial aid through the hospital's donor program. I actually only have to pay $1437.00. Of course, that brings me to another question, if I only have to pay $1437.00, shouldn't that be what they charge me, and not that heart-stopping figure?

I am reading David McCullough's John Adams. I am so glad I asked my daughter to let me read the book after here. I am learning loads of information about John Adams, the early days of our country and politics. One of the refreshing things I have gleaned from this book is the aspects of a great woman. Abigail Adams was a great woman. I want my daughters to emulate her. She was devoted to her husband, loved him without bounds, dreaded to be without him and felt it her duty to make sure he was all he could be, but my praise for her does not stop there, no I am more impressed that she was this way while simultaneously being intelligent, out-spoken, independent, industrious, creative, and eager to learn everything she could. My kind of woman!

Today was a great day!
I received the surgeons official bill today. Yes, I know that that does not sound like the makings of even a fair day, and it gets even less likely to make one do handstands for joy. The bill was approximately $1000.00 more than the estimate. So how does this constitute a great day? The bill started with the eye-popping figure, but ended with a final balance owed of approximately $1600.00 less than I expected. I had forgotten that Dr. Mina's office manager had told me that they give a discount to cash paying patients. Now, I call this a fabulous discount. Now, you see one of the reasons that today was a great day.

The other reason that I am typing this with a smile on my face is that my 19 yr old college student daughter spent a few hours with her dad and we successfully experimented in the kitchen with a dish that I humbly suggest one of the restaurant chains like Ruby Tuesday should add to their menu. Ok, so maybe the whole restaurant-worthy fare is a bit of an overstatement, but it was good. This whole enjoyable afternoon and earlier evening fun with Laura, began as simply a desire of mine to play around in the kitchen, maybe make something tasty. I was thinking about a dish that was heavy with various squashes and chicken. As I contemplated cooking, I decided to see if Laura was busy. She had plans to go to a football game with her gentleman friend later in the evening, but said she would enjoy a little foray into culinary experimentation. I will skip to the actual dish, noting first that I have never been a huge fan of peppers of any kind, a few finely diced in a meal won't make me run away screaming, but they are not my first choice. We sauteed, in olive oil, some green, yellow, and orange peppers, added fresh garlic, two small slices of jalapeno pepper some roasted red peppers and mushrooms. Then we added a spicy wine based tomato sauce, lightly. We didn't want a heavy sauce, more of a base to help the veggies stick to the fusilli pasta. We added this mixture to the chopped chicken cooking in another sauce pan , and let it simmer. We served it over the fusilli and it was awesome. The fact that it was not a heavy sauce made the dish even better, because we were able to enjoy the individual tastes of the veggies and chicken, as well as the blending. What was amazing to me, was that my daughter had sliced the peppers in long slices, no dicing at all and I loved them, even picking a couple out of the pan as they sauteed and eating them.
I did discover a great need in my kitchen, cooking tools that actually work, esp. knives. Since I have been a fast food addict for so long, Wal-Mart knives are the fare in my kitchen and that resulted in Laura struggling to slice pepper, really, slicing peppers was difficult. So when the apartment complex here is finished remodeling and I move into the new office apartment, I am throwing myself a house-warming party, so remember, bring kitchen utensils!

I can drive!!!

No, I am not referring to the fact that I know how to drive or that I have a license. Since my surgery, I have been under doctor's orders to not drive. I can tell I live in a community where driving is paramount, because if I lived in NYC or Chicago, the fact that I haven't driven for the past week would not register at all. But here in good ole, Greenville, SC, we drive everywhere, probably far too much and definitely too often for unnecessary trips and by ourselves. We need to learn to combine trips and car pool, you know, 'save the planet and all'. Anyways, I have not been happy with no driving. I dislike bothering other folks and asking for favors. Today, in my first follow-up visit to the surgeon's office, the restriction against driving was lifted with the exception of long trips.

Unfortunately, that was about the only restriction that was lifted. I still can't lift anything over 5lbs, can't bend at the waist(which none of us probably should do), no twisting at the waist(and I was going to enter a Chubby Checkers contest...jk) or raise my arms over my head. Looks like work will be out of the question for the next month. The most frustrating restriction is that I am still not allowed to sleep on my stomach. I always sleep on my stomach, but not for another month. I must look funny when I sleep, because in order to avoid rolling over onto my stomach in my sleep I have placed a bedspread rolled up in the middle of my bed and I have woken up on more than one occasion laying on my side, like I am spooning the bed spread. No, I don't need a woman!

War, huh yeah, What's it good for?

That's the way Edwin Starr's anti-war song begins. The song decries war, protesting that war is never good, that it only causes pain and suffering. I can't say I completely agree. There are times when a nation needs to defend itself and this leads to war. I will agree that we, as humans, are far too eager to solve problems with our fists, guns, bombs, and any other tool of suffering we can conceive. Tonight I heard a song by the country duo, Big and Rich that memorialized a sad day in our military history in Vietnam: the ambush of the 173 Airborne division. As I listened to the song, I remarked to myself how many songs we have that honor war time events, our military, and wars in general. That thought was followed quickly by the sad realization of how unreal war seems to most Americans, esp. the current one. It is easier to blindly support anything related to our military or mindlessly protest anything war related. We are told that we can not shy away the killing of human beings, because that means we are unpatriotic and uncaring about the dangers facing our nation. We are also told we can not wish for success of our troops, or the final defeat of the terrorists because that means we condone killing of innocents and condone the attitude that might makes right. Both positions are wrong. We need to view war honestly and be less eager to kill, but more determined to fight for what is right.