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 |  A sporadic account of my reaction to life. |
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Over the years I have sporadically attempted to keep a journal. Each attempt has failed miserably. I think they expired because I established rules that were too ridgid for them. So, this attempt will bring with it very few rules. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** There are many incredibly kind and thoughtful people in WDC. One of them is zwisis. Out of the blue she sent me this flower gift. It reminds me of the Bluebonnets of Texas. Thanks, Sarah. And, I must not forget the very talented katherine76 who created the flower...thank you. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Well, it appears that my blog is going to the dogs. It aslo seems as if folks have gotten me pegged as a dog lover....they're right. Our very own Anyea   has gifted me with this Valentine card. Now I ask you, "How sweet is that?" Thanks, Anyea  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I have been fortunate to encounter many generous and kind people during my tenure in WDC. Debi Wharton is one of them. She gifted me with the following sig. It shows how sensitive and caring she is. It also shows that she read some my entries. She'll never know how much I appreciate the gift and the attention to my blog. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Title; Free at Last, Free at Last! Date: January 28, 2007, Sunday – Linda’s Birthday Thought: I am usually reluctant to embrace trendy fads. But, this one is different. This one appears to work. Jog: Mel Gibson has made some pretty good movies. No doubt they have been a little violent; but all in all they are pretty good. His last one, “Apocolypto,” actually is pretty good. But, I’m just warped enough to like that sort of thing. One of my favorite Gibson movies is “Braveheart.” Being a history buff, I love the story line and was pleased that it was actually pretty faithful to history. One of my favorite parts of that movie is at the very end. William Wallace lies on the executioner’s block, a tortured man; he whispers that he has something to say. Expecting a statement of contrition and recanting, the Inquisitor silences the crowd telling them the condemned man has something to say. The crowd hushes. Wallace summons all his remaining strength and shouts to the top of his lungs “FREEDOM !!” I believe freedom is the most critical thing that is missing from the average American citizen. We can come and go as we please, say what we want, do what we want, live where we want, and buy anything we want. And that’s the problem. It is far too easy for average John and Jane Doe to place themselves into bondage—financial bondage. Our economic and social system is dependent on you and me being in debt up to our eyeballs. Corporate America does not want us to pay cash. They do not want us to be out of debt. It is much more profitable for us to owe them. In fact the finance charges are where the big money is. It is a sad state of affairs in that John and Jane Doe actually think it is beneficial for them to be head and heals in debt. After all, everyone else is; that’s how it is done. Well, maybe so, but it should not be. I saw a commercial on TV tonight about a furniture store that is offering zero-down and no payments until 2008. Think about that; they are going to let you take the furniture and not pay a dime on it for one year. Now, why in the world would they do that? Because, at the end of one year when John and Jane has not paid anything on the furniture, they will be assaulted with all the back payments and inflated interest that will be due right then. Being unable to make that payment John and Jane will be allowed to pay for the stuff, which by this time is probably worn out from Fido and Junior playing on it, at a rate of 28% interest. In twenty years they just might pay the stuff off. In addition, Lexis will let you purchase that silver package automobile on a seven year payment plan. In four years you will have just been able to pay the interest and will begin paying on the principle. Needless to say, by that time you will get the fever for a new Lexis, but will be too top heavy to swing the deal. But by some miracle the dealership will have mercy and let you add the payments to the new car. Are they taking a chance? Nope, you’ve already paid their profit. If they come and get the car they will get to do it all over again with John and Jane’s neighbor. This is sadly becoming a way of American life. We are indoctrinating our young people to believe it is normal to be in debt. Do you know the largest sector of people filing bankruptcy is now college students or students who have just graduated? College loans in the tens of thousands of dollars are normal. Credit card companies assault the entering freshmen with opportunities to get a credit card. See you are a grown up now; you can have a credit card. It will not be unusual for the next generation to never realize what it means to be out of debt. Linda and I have been there. I believe I am in good company. Most everybody else has been there also. Most likely you are there. I have determined that I am not going to live life that way. Within two years we are going to be totally out of debt—houses, cars, toys, credit cards, and everything else…the whole enchilada. One of our houses will be paid for in two months. The big one we live in has five years left on the mortgage. I am bound and determined to accelerate that. Now if you are thinking that only wealthy folks can do that, you are wrong. John and Jane Doe are doing it all over the nation now, at least some of them. It is all a matter of perspective—desire. Linda and I have been studying a program offered by Dave Ramsey. I am usually reluctant to embrace trendy fads. But, this one is different. This one appears to work. If you are looking for a way out of the financial mess you are in, take a look at what Dave has to say. He has a webpage that has a link to his radio show. There are tons of archived programs there. Listen to some of them. Look up one of the stations that carry Dave in your part of the country. Then get back to me and tell me what you think. In any case, Linda and I are committed to this. Hopefully, this time next year we will owe absolutely no one for anything. To this I shout, “FREEDOM !!” http://www.daveramsey.com/radio/home/index.cfm?FuseAction=dspContent&strMode=dsp... |
| Title: Move Over, Fido’s Hungry Date: January 27, 2007, Saturday Thought: It seems to me the answer is that all of us need to practice a little etiquette when we visit public facilities. Jog: OK, I didn’t catch the city’s name—maybe it was Dallas. Deb will know. She knows everything…unless’n it’s about whales. Anyway, in some city up by Dallas the city council is considering permitting owners to bring their dogs to restaurants and keep them with them in the open patio areas. Initially, I thought, “Hey, what a nice thing.” And then I listened to the talk radio show that was dealing with that topic a little longer. People were coming unglued; I mean they were irate. There are a couple of considerations on both sides of this question, of course. The dogs would have to be socially trained to be around people. Max would have a little problem. You see, Max is a crotch sniffer. That’s how he gets to know you; he plunges his nose into your crotch and sniffs. After a good sniff you are now his friend. If he can’t get a good crotch sniff, his hair bristles and you may even hear a very low growl come from him. So, if you ever meet me and Max, he’s not getting personal; he’s just saying hi. I on the other hand will probably only shake your hand; Linda has me pretty well trained in public. Max, being male, has a tag habit. When I take Max for a walk and encounter a friend, we usually stand and visit for a moment. Max, always takes that brief moment to tag a tree, or sign, or hydrant, or pole, or twig, or blade of grass. That means we would have to hone his social skill out in public at a restaurant. There are just too many chairs, and doors, and table legs, and people legs available for him. It would be what is known as a target rich environment. It would be way too tempting for his male psyche. We would have to overcome those two little issues. But, it can be done. And so, if we could make Max socially acceptable in public, would I take him to the restaurant? Maybe. However, after hearing the rantings of some of the folks who called in to the talk show, I would probably not do it. It seems people in our area are not ready to eat their tacos at a table next to a dog--no matter how well behaved the dog. Now, many of these same people don’t seem to mind blowing smoke into my air and lungs as they smoke next to me. Nor do they have a problem with a screaming two year old Jeffery as he throws mashed potatoes and chicken tenders onto the back of my coat. They smile and say, “Now, Jeffery, you be a good boy. Isn’t that cute?” It seems to me the answer is that all of us need to practice a little etiquette when we visit public facilities. Rudeness seems to prevail nowadays. You don’t need a cigarette, a two year old, or even a dog to be rude. Some folks are rude cause that’s the way they are put together. They just are. Linda and I ate out the other day and were amazed at a young lady who was eating with her male friend at the table next to us. The entire time they were there she was on the telephone—I swear to God it was the ENTIRE time. He just ate his food and endured it. I felt like asking him if he would like to join us until Bimbo got finished with her call. On another occasion our good friends ate out with us at a Mexican restaurant. Now the purpose of a restaurant is not to serve you; don’t be deluded or seduced by that idea. The purpose of restaurants is to make money. In order to do so they pack as many tables as they can into the place such that you are dang near bumping elbows with the party behind you as you eat. Even so, some folks need to discover their “inside voice.” Some people are so loud. From the table next to us, the whole restaurant heard about Tom’s blotched vasectomy. And, to ole Tom, it was a comedy; cause periodically he would burst into loud boisterous claps of laughter—much too periodically. I felt like asking the restaurant for a discount on my meal since our dining experience was certainly negatively impacted. Now if you put it all together with screaming kids, cell phone talkers, loud conversations, and Tom’s hilarious vasectomy, the addition of a tagging dog would really be too much. It’s enough to just stay at home. However, I feel sympathetic to the dog owner who has a well behaved dog and wishes to take that member of his family with him to eat. But, how are we to apply limitations to smokers and at the same time ignore any limits to dog owners. If we are going to place limits, it seems they have to have some measure of fairness. Of course, I see it as being fair to chain Jeffery to the bike stands outside—so what do I know? All I know is that I will follow the rules. That seems to be the price we pay for living in a society that socializes with each other. There have got to be some rules. I just wish they’d let me make all of them. |
| Title: My Favorite Image Date: January 26, 2007, Friday Thought: At the end of the day when Linda asks, “How was your day, Hon?” I have a choice as to what I say. Jog: “Another day another dollar,” “No rest for the weary,” “It’s back to the salt mines”—these are just three common expressions that are used to describe our breadwinning activities of the day. Human beings are working critters. We must have a purpose in life. We are not much different than the working ants or the working bees that go about their repetitious lives. We get in line and do a chore only to begin all over the next day at the end of another line with chores to be done again. And yet there is a great difference between the ant and a people. I’m not sure that an ant has a goal set before him, consciously calculating the path required to accomplishing that goal, and receiving a measured degree of satisfaction or disappointment when that goal is either achieved or lost. Nope, ants toil endlessly, crawling over each other as they carry debris and nourishment into the inner sanctum of the anthill simply because they are an ant. That’s what ants do. For some unknown reason, God in his infinite wisdom, made us different from an ant. He gave us the ability to reason and chart our own journeys in life. He gave us the ability to experience emotions and understand the consequences of our actions. Some of us do that better than others; some of us are great masters of this--while others are little more advanced than the ant. There is purpose in our lives. That’s what being made in His image means. God brings purpose into life; without God there is chaos. Some folks have been able to reason chaos away, cataloguing it and setting chaos on the shelf as a testament to their intelligence. Please don’t make that mistake; it has eternal consequences. Well, I believe each of us is a creation of great worth. It doesn’t matter about circumstances, what we have achieve, or who we are; we are His handiwork—his piece of clay in the potters hands. The fact that He made us a creature of great worth makes each of us worthy; until we prove otherwise. Of what are we worthy? Well, we are each worthy of an opportunity to dream and achieve. We are to be more than worker ants, scurrying back and forth to the anthill. We are to have purpose in our lives, challenges and accomplishments as well as a few failures along the way. But, we are to do this as we go. When we rise in the morning to another seemingly mundane day, we are to realize that we control the way it will be viewed at the end of the day. Although things happen to us, we are the ones who choose how to react to each situation and how to let it affect us. We can choose to put our hand out to help another get up from a fall or to walk on by. We can choose to smile instead of frown. We are the one who decides to see the glass half-full instead of half-empty—no one else. I have a job to do. Every morning I get up to do that job—just like an ant. I have tasks that clutter my schedule and abuse my leisure moments. I’ve got to tote that morsel back to the anthill. But, as I go I can choose to realize and understand the purpose of what I do. I have a choice as to how I will look at my chores. I can help others as I go about my routine. I can choose to make a difference in the way I interact with the other people of worth that I come into contact with. I can make, “Have a good day” a personal goal rather than a flippant salutation. At the end of the day when Linda asks, “How was your day, Hon?” I have a choice as to what I say. Even at the end of the darkest day, I am the one that chooses whether or not to say, “It was a very good day.” I can do that because I am better than the ant, which after all was created in the image of an ant. I was created in God’s own image. Now, I ask you, what can be better than that? Even with all the warts and odd hairs, God made me worth something. I’m just like Him. How in the world can I have a bad day? |
| Title: On Seeking a Level and Tranquil Surface Date: January 23, 2007, Tuesday Thought: It has not been easy the last month. I’ve found that projects that I thought were being well managed were not. I’m adjusting. Jog: Water seeks its own level. That is a basic premise taught in grade school science. With that idea we can determine if we are on a flat and even surface, which is good if you are building a house or hanging a picture. I’ve always been a little intrigued by the concept of ‘sea level,’ which is the controlling point of all elevations. We judge how high we fly by the distance from a level sea--altitude. If you fill a swimming pool with water, you can be assured that the surface on the deep end is the same height above ‘sea level’ as is the surface on the shallow end. Stand on the summit of a mountain and you know how high you are—elevation. Being level gives us a point of reference—something to compare all other elevations with. It is as sure as gravity, which pulls a dropped ball down to earth when dropped from the Leaning Tower of Pisa—every time. Now we know that every law has its exceptions, sea level is no different. Our seas in fact are in constant motion, affected by high and low air pressure zones in our atmosphere. The moon pulls the surface of our level sea, warps the surface, causing tides that affect our measurement of what is level. That’s why we have “mean sea level.” After an elevation is given on a map, you often see those three little letters: “msl” or “amsl” (above mean sea level). The interesting thing is that this level surface is not level at all. When cutting the Panama Canal it was necessary to incorporate a series of ‘locks’ that rise and lower the ships as needed. You see the Pacific Ocean is about 20 feet higher than the Atlantic and the transit across the isthmus actually requires one to go up to Gatun Lake. Our Nada recently cruised through this route. So, by applying the rule of water seeking its own level, ships go from the Pacific to the Atlantic, remaining in the balmy weather of Central America.I suppose our lives seek their own level similar to water. We load them up with activity and events; but, we find it hard to maintain that level of activity. Eventually, our lives react; someone opens the ‘locks’ of our lives and the water seek its own level. Budroe discussed “winter” in such a way in his recent blog. There is a time when things slow down. I believe we have a choice to control when that slowing down occurs. However, often we don’t choose to do it and life finds its own way to do it for us. In my case it was in the form of a heart attack and subsequent by-pass surgery. We call this a wake-up call. When this call rings through on your private line, I advise you to answer it.Recently, it has been increasingly difficult for me to abide by my own advice. A valuable and critical employee chose to leave my firm. The effect was for the work load to gush through the open locks of my life, seeking its new level. It has not been easy the last month. I’ve found that projects that I thought were being well managed were not. I’m adjusting. In the process I am determining which clients to cut back on, which projects to finish and simply ‘get out the door’. Some of the clients require that I simply ‘cut and run.’ And amazingly, there are new projects standing outside the door knocking, wanting to come in. I’ve got to let some of them in; but I’ll be selective about it. I’m seeking a new level. It will take some time. Ask Nada about going through the locks. You have to sit and let the water rise or lower, depending on which way you are going. It takes a little time. I think I’ll just answer this call and let the water rise—let it find its own level. Perhaps some of you are doing the same thing—I hope so. Let the water rise; let it rise--or fall, depending on the way you are going. |
| Title: Hats Off to Bud Date: January 22, 2007, Monday Thought: Why are all the rules for blogging ‘unwritten’ rules? The only warning we have is a, “Hey, ya’ll be careful out there!” Jog: If you get the opportunity, wander over to Budroe ’s site and give it a gander. As you know he has been journaling his experience with a nasty disease. He has done that masterfully, keeping all of us informed and riveted to his words. I have certainly, and rightfully so, become convicted about preparing certain documents that should not be put off. My thanks go out to him for adding to my busy work schedule. We should all have our affairs current.But, recently, I have been very impressed with his continuing series on ‘blogging.’ It has provided fundamental history that is very informative and provides a good foundation for the continued progress of his articles. He has shared this information in a professional, after all he really is a professional, manner and in a style that is easy for the ‘information technology challenged’ to understand. However, his recent article regarding basic rules to embrace before we enter the community of bloggers has been very interesting. Why are all the rules for blogging ‘unwritten’ rules? The only warning we have is a, “Hey, ya’ll be careful out there!” With that little admonishment, we blindly jump into the waters of the Internet with our blogs. Without a doubt there are wonderful rewards waiting for us, as evident by the fellowship developed right here in WDC. But, there are dire consequences also. Simply because you are not a 14 yr old female are you shielded from personal attack on your reputation, finances, and body. There are folks out here who want to hurt you, who are scheming and planning of ways to do just that. Some of these folks would look like your friends in the real world. Some of them are working in the security of their closet and some of them are in fact working under the cloak of the law. The world has always been a nasty place. There have always been bad people. But, never has there been the freedom of information and access as there is now. Be more than careful, beware. If you get a chance, take a look at the article. I know he would appreciate constructive criticism. Now, where are those ‘written’ rules for blogging? I’m going to review them. Oh, yeah, I forgot; there aren’t any.
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| Title: Were’s the Dirt? Date: January 21, 2007, Sunday Thought: In the early mornings he loves to hide and wander through the shrubs, popping out at different locations in the yard as if he were playing hide-‘n-seek. Jog: Max discovered dirt. The stuff is plentiful outside the house. In fact his (not to be confused with what Linda and I think is ours) back yard is a wonderland of dirt. We have planting beds that ring three sides of our–excuse me, his—back yard, where we have trees, shrubs, and flowering plants located strategically. Soft rich mulch surrounds all the plants lucky enough to be included in our garden. That soft rich mulch is heaven for that black Lab. In the early mornings he loves to hide and wander through the shrubs, popping out at different locations in the yard as if he were playing hide-‘n-seek. When given a brand new ‘chew stick’, which is shaped like an enormous bone, his first order of action is to find a suitable place to hide the thing. He wanders carefully through the shrubs testing a location here and there. Occasionally, he will dig a hole, deposit the ‘chewie’, and then step back and consider the location; only to change his mind and retrieve it to search for a more appropriate spot. Those of you who have dogs know the drill. Linda and I are forever amused to watch this ritual; it brings smiles to our faces. When given a ‘chew stick’ when he is inside the house, the ritual is even funnier. Without the presence of yard, shrubs, and dirt he repeats the ritual. This time he usually seeks seldomly frequented corners of the house. He will dig a few times on the carpet and deposit the ‘chewie’ in the imaginary hole. He will then cover the imaginary hole with imaginary dirt. He IS a funny dog; and as proud parents we are dutifully impressed and entertained by his antics. Early this morning, as is my custom, I arose and went to my study to do stuff--stuff is what I do early in the morning. Along the way my constant companion, Max, tagged along as my silent shadow. I noticed a brand new ‘chewie’ lying in my path, so I picked it up and carried it upstairs with me. Max, being the observant hunter that he is, noticed that action and nipped at the ‘chewie’ all along our journey to my study; he wanted the thing. When I arrived at my desk I gave his ‘chewie’ to him, because I have not yet developed a taste for the things and I thought it would keep him occupied. It did, I heard nothing except chewing and scraping of teeth on hard leather for the duration of my time doing stuff. Eventually, I concluded my early morning stuff-doing and asked Max if he wanted to go for his walk. Well, do bears go in the woods? Of course he wanted to go. He heard two magic words: “go” and “walk” and that was all it took to get his tail wagging excitedly and little whimpers of pleasure coming from an eighty-pound dog. And so, as usual we had our walk, which was eventful for Max. For during our walk we encountered Vickie and Misty. Either Vickie or her husband walks Misty every morning. Misty is an attractive black and white lab-mix who lives down the street. That girl is fast; Max tries in vain to catch her but just can’t do it. As she stopped at the lake to daintily lean over and get a drink, Max garishly plunges chest-deep into the lake and noisily gets a drink of his own. Now, it’s 30-degrees outside today, which is not particularly cold by polar standards but plenty cold enough for Texas boys. I ask you, was that supposed to impress her? Like, “Hey, lookit me! I’m standin’ chest deep in freezin’ water! Ain’t I somethin’?” I don’t know; it did not impress me, who now has a wet dog to deal with. Nevertheless, Max and I finished our walk and safely made it back to the warm shelter of our home just in time to greet Linda who was walking from the bedroom to the kitchen. “Good morning, Hon. Did you boys have fun?” “I think so. Max was practicing his flirting skills. He pooped in front of Misty, didn’t catch her when he chased her (as if he could), and went chest deep into the lake to get a drink of water. I guess you’d call that a success.” Max just stood there with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth as if to say, “Yup! That’s what I did alright!” I continued on upstairs to my office; and Linda made her way to the kitchen. Max did what ever he wanted; after all it IS his house. Then I heard Linda downstairs with an alarmed tone in her voice. “Dan! What in the world is this? There is dirt all over the floor in the dining room.” “Dirt? Where did it come from?” I peered over the edge of the balcony to discover a pile of dirt scattered on the carpet around the Marginata plant that lives in the large two-foot diameter pot. “My Gawd! How did that get there?” Linda went to examine the scene. Upon closer inspection she saw the tiny tip of a ‘chewie’ sticking out from the remaining dirt in the pot. “Danny!” (That’s what she calls me when she gets angry or excited)”Max has buried one of his chew sticks in here!” Yes, Max found dirt. We have numerous plants located around the house. Most of the pots are high enough so that it is not convenient to dig. Some of them have that moss stuff that covers the dirt, as if we are camouflaging the stuff. This particular plant was both accessible and dirt exposed. Now, I can’t blame Max. Nope he’s just doing what dogs do. In fact we praise him and give him attention when he does it outside. What in the world would possess someone to bring a tree inside the house and have dirt in here?—only a silly people. So of course, when he found dirt in the house it was a perfect solution to burying his ‘chewie.’ We had to work with him to get him to stop tagging the inside plants; we ought to be able to keep him from digging in the house. |
| Title: One Marble in a Bag of Marbles Date: January 20, 2007, Saturday Thought: Someone just shook my bag of marbles, rearranging my priorities. You gotta watch out for them ‘bag shakes;’ they’ll throw you every time. Jog: Kids today have a different standard for the toys they play with. Most usually today’s kid’s toys are technical things that cost a bunch of money. Madison Ave. likes it that way. It means profit sharing and stock options and big corporate money. Big business would not like to go back to my world as a kid where my prized possession was a bag of marbles. I had ‘cats-eyes’, and 'corkscrews', and 'crystals', and 'agates', and ‘steelies’ and ‘solids’. My bag of marbles was like currency. I used my marbles like money. I could trade two steelies for a ‘Sgt. Rock’ or ‘Superman’ comic book. I spent hours just going through them separating them according to type, color, and size, only to eventually end up dumping them all back in the bag together. I played with them some, shooting marbles; but mostly I just had them—my bag of marbles. I’m like one of those marbles--just one marble in a bag of marbles. Each of us has stuff that we do all day—responsibilities to tend to. Each of us has different lives when it comes to the workplace, playing, pursuing our passions, and just chilling. But in the end we are still just one marble in a bag of marbles. Well, this marble—I like to believe I’m a big ole steelie—has been rolling around a lot this week. I started the week with a simple summary of my week to come; boy was there a bunch of stuff in there. Fortunately, I successfully negotiated the week one task at a time until all of it was finished. I stand on the other side of the week and marvel that I made it through the week without alienating any of my clients too terribly much. Hey, I even managed to make some money. Through no effort of my own, I rolled out of the rubble of the week with two new jobs. Hey, I wasn’t looking for them and didn’t go out to get them. But, when they come wandering in through your front door, you just collect them like a couple of stray marbles and drop them in your bag—which I did. The unfortunate thing is that next week is just as bad; and so is the week after that. Next week I have three evening meetings scheduled; there are four scheduled for the following week—all different clients. I’ve got the dirtiest truck in Texas. It used to be a deep red that shined up real nice. Today it is a two-tone, dull red and Texas mud. Driving up and down these Texas highways in the weather we’ve had gets a little dirt on these nice shiny vehicles we drive. There’s no use in washing it off cause it will just be back on there tomorrow. One of my goals in life now is to drive a clean truck; I’m looking forward to that day. Hey, can you believe it? With all the stuff I’ve managed to load myself up with, I received a jury summons in the mail. Someone just shook my bag of marbles, rearranging my priorities. You gotta watch out for them ‘bag shakes;’ they’ll throw you every time. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I end with this little story. Among my bag of marbles was a great diversity. As I said earlier, they came in all types and sizes. But, I had my favorites. One was an oversized blue ‘corkscrew’. They called it a ‘shooter’ cause it was a little larger and could be handled easily. It had a few dings and chips on it; it wasn’t perfect. But, I held it out from the rest when we kids were going through our ‘trades.’ It was known as a “Lucky Taw”—specially selected for its weight and symmetry. This was your game marble—the one you won with. A kid always wanted to keep track of that marble. Somewhere along the way, as I was growing up, I lost track of my Lucky Taw; heck! I lost track of the whole bag of marbles. I’ve somehow made it through life thus far without it. But every time I rummage through some old stuff, visit a garage sale, wander through a flee market I keep my eye out for that marble or one just like it. There are times in my life when I need that marble. Times like now, when I seem overloaded. I’d like to handle it again—feel its weight and see it’s swirls. We could all use a Lucky Taw. Maybe I don’t need to have it on me; perhaps I don’t need to possess it for it to still be my Lucky Taw. The memory of it works just as well. There really is no point of this entry, other than to say that no matter how busy our lives are, no matter what obstacles comes our way, and no matter if we’ve lost track of our Lucky Taw we are in this together--just marbles in a bag of marbles. We are members of the human experience—each a marble in a bag of marbles. However, somewhere in here I’ve got a Luck Taw, and I bet you do too. |
| Title: Flailing Away With a Broken Paddle Date: January 16, 2007, Tuesday Thought: Attention on these issues will simply keep my head above water. I really need time to spend on each one. Barry’s leaving has certainly caused a major overload. Jog: The following is a chronology of my pending week. It’s full of work tasks and stuff I’ve got to do. It’s boring and may seem a little whiney. But, unfortunately for the reader, it happens to be the stuff that on the top of my mind. I hate that feeling that you get when you face deadlines unprepared. It ain’t fun. I’m facing a difficult week this week, as a matter of fact I’m in the middle of it. I’ve got a meeting today at 1:30 pm with a client, the analysis I’ve done is partially complete, but not organized in text form yet. I’m going to have to simply share my work papers with then. I’ve worked many hours to come to the conclusion that the best action is ‘no action.’ That’s a large pill for them to take. I’ve got another meeting today at 3:00 pm with a different client and his attorney. We have to work out some legal procedures that the city has been doing incorrectly. I’m placed in the position of taking a legal stand that may be unpopular with the city council; we need the attorney’s favorable opinion in order to proceed. I’ve found that sometimes the law is blind and takes the path of least resistance. I hate convincing attorneys that they are mistaken. That’s no fun either. Although, I am rather good at it. In addition, I have to prepare for a 1:30 pm meeting with the City staff of another client for tomorrow. I have five zoning cases that must be reviewed and marked up for that meeting. I need today to prepare for that, but it is obvious that today will not happen that way. I’ll have to do it in the evening, for I’ve got a meeting with yet a different client tomorrow morning at 8:30 am. On Thursday I travel to the City of Mineola, where I need to meet with city staff to deliver a new subdivision regulation for their review. It is not ready. I’ll have to finish it Wednesday evening. Thursday evening, on the same day, I travel up the road from Mineola to meet with the City council of the City of Quitman to give them a status of their Comprehensive Plan. In preparation for that meeting I need to print out several copies of the draft as well as burn a CD with their zoning mapping attached. That will also need to be done Wednesday evening. Friday, will be devoted to preparing a contract for the City of Granbury, it was due last Friday. I’ll need to do a little groveling. I also have pending work to do for the little city of Cresson (an annexation plan and map), the community of Lake Kiowa (open space design plan), McLendon-Chisholm (zoning ordinance), Cleburne (subdivision regulations), the City of Hillsboro ( Downtown plan, zoning ordinance, finalize the comprehensive plan, and attend a charette), City of Alba (comprehensive plan and zoning ordinance, and the City of New Fairview (comprehensive plan). Attention on these issues will simply keep my head above water. I really need time to spend on each one. Barry’s leaving has certainly caused a major overload. It will likely take four months or so to sort this out. In the meantime I’m beating alligators off with a broken paddle. Hey, can you believe it, I also received a jury summons in the mail. That’s all I need, a wasted week serving on a jury. But they will give me a whole $25 dollars to compensate for my time, as I lose $5,000 in billings for the lost time. Some folks don’t understand that when I don’t show up for work, it costs me money. When you are self-employed, you don’t get time off with pay. Anytime you are away from the workplace the meter is running and you are losing money. I must slink out of here now. That text documentation due at 1:30 pm will not prepare itself, and try as he may; Max is just not a good typist. It’s 3:30 am; I should have an honest eight hours to prepare for the meeting…opps, minus breakfast, shower, and getting ready, of course—make that seven hours. |
| Title: Page Two News Date: January 14, 2007, Sunday Thought: Now, you gotta admire a fella who loves his craft enough to put effort into it. And you gotta admit that someone out there’s readin’ his stuff. Jog: I hear this whooshing sound behind me. I’m up ahead, peddling as fast as I can; and I’m preoccupied with this sound that is ever growing. I look behind me and I see my friend windac peddling to beat nothing; but the sound doesn’t come from her. Nope, it’s coming from behind the both of us. Although it was not a goal to be achieved, I find myself sitting on the front page of the stats. My little blog is rated 24th amongst the most read blogs (jogs) in WDC. I have no idea what kind of accomplishment that is. It’s just a number, but it’s somehow comforting to know someone is reading the simple little thing. My friend Wind is sitting in 25th place right behind me. It’s pleasing to be with friends. Wind and I have made it to the first page. Granted, we are down at the bottom of the page; but, geeze!--at least we’re on the front page and don’t have to click out to find our position. But, then I hear that whooshing sound again. Straining to look over my shoulder and not lose my balance, I see awkward and erratic movement coming from a cloud of dust behind me. Knees are pumpin’, elbows flingin’, and drool sprayin’ out behind him—it’s David McClain . That dang bucket head is bustin’ up the road gaining ground behind us. You gotta hand it to him, though. Wind and I are tooling down the road on our fancy 27 speed bikes and he’s crankin’ along on an ancient Schwinn Flyer. The thing has only one speed, is minus the fenders, and could use a paint job. The big ole tires on that machine are twice as big as the pencil thin designer tires on Wind’s and mine. But by shear effort, with red face, streamin’ drool, and fellow riders strewn behind him he advances up the road. Right now he is on the second page—number 26th. That means tomorrow or the day after that, either Wind or I will be old news, riding again on page two.Now, you gotta admire a fella who loves his craft enough to put effort into it. And you gotta admit that someone out there’s readin’ his stuff. Heck, that’s gotta happen for him to be coming up so fast. What irritates the snot out of me is not that he’s comin’; but the fact that he’s comin’ AGAIN. I look up in front of me and what do I see sitting up there in 2nd place. Dang if it ain’t Tor! What a pickle, the dude's behind me and in front of me. Now, what’s with that? How can a fella be in two places at one time? I shake my head and ask Max to bite me; this must be a bad dream. Nope, this is no dream. Tomorrow or soon after I’ll be history—that is unless I can stay a hair in front of Wind, which in that case will make her history. Well, at least I won’t have to peddle so hard. Now the other thing that’s just not right about this is the way he’s gonna treat the lovely, Wind. Heck, she’s just barely holding to the first page. Tor’s gonna ride right over her fingers. That’s not very gentlemanly of him. A real Texas cowboy would bow to the ‘little lady’ and just ride behind her. At least that’s what John Wayne would do. Nope, you wouldn’t see the Duke shovin’ a lady off the trail. But, you just hide and watch. That rickety Schwinn, with its knobby tires, will make mincemeat of her fancy 27 speed trail bike. There’s really no point in this entry today--other than to expose the deranged rider chewing up our stats page. He’s comin’; it’s inevitable. I can see CC up in front of me in 20th place with a paddle, trying to stay ahead. Someone needs to tell him we’re not on the water. CC ole buddy, he’s comin for ya. At least you’ll get to stay on the front page. Wind and me? Well we’ll most likely be shoved rudely to the second page. But that’s OK someone needs to be back there keeping her company. That is unless she runs off and leaves me there, which would be just about my luck. Well, I gotta go now; I hear this whooshing sound. |
| Title: What Do You Owe Me? Date: January 13, 2007, Saturday Thought: I believe there are precious few things that I am entitled to. Those things are God given and are gifted to me by His mercy. Jog: There are some words that have lost their meaning. Webster provides a description of words and a hint of what they mean. But, there are some words, and phrases by the way, that simply because of their common use have morphed into society’s intent for them. Don’t dare believe that “we’ll have a gay ole time” as the song suggests. ‘Gay’ no longer means having a joyful experience (or maybe it does depending on your viewpoint). Nope, it’s become a label. And being “born again” carries with it prejudices and stereotypes that are not necessarily favorable to Christians. What I see as a statement of spiritual relationship others picture as a “Bible thumpin’, fanatical, weirdo.” “Entitlement” is a word that has lost its meaning. Rather its meaning has been expanded to represent something it was never meant to represent. To be entitled is to be owed something. It means you deserve to get that something—you’re entitled to it. I work all day long for a client; I produce a product; he benefits from that product. I am entitled to payment for the services I perform. I was born to lower middle-income parents in a rural town in Oklahoma. They were born in this country also to lower middle-income Americans. Because of that, I am entitled to citizenship in this great land. And, although the line is a little fuzzy that is where entitlement stops. Somehow along the socio-political journey, folks have come to believe entitlement is a God-given right; it has been claimed to include a full and prosperous life, regardless of the output of the individual. A criminal rapes, tortures, and kills a child; he is entitled to a trial by jury—that is all. But, our courts and lawmakers have determined that he is entitled to a safe haven with air-conditioning, nutritious meals, entertainment in his suite, and freedom of abuse by the legal system, which in many cases means you can’t cause any mental and physical discomfort. Lord, we wouldn't want to make him feel badly. Somehow our society has determined “we owe it to him.” I know a man who has lived off of the sweat and labor of neighbors and strangers for all his life. He works only when he has to. He draws unemployment as soon as he is eligible. If he twists his ankle or strains his back, he uses the company insurance, of which he is entitled, to see the doctor. And, he sees as many of them as he can until he gets the answer he desires. He lives off of disability and draws a paycheck because he is entitled to it. We pay his medical bills; we fund his living quarters. Heck, in a way, we even purchase his cars. He believes that if he can’t pay for an item all he has to do is to stop paying; they’ll come and get it from him so he can go out and get another one. He feels he is entitled to that service. He sees no problem filing bankruptcy, which he has done more than once—he’s entitled to it. He cheats on his income tax, draws social security and still works a second job that produces over the permitted limit; he sometimes ‘forgets’ to claim secondary income—all because he is entitled to it. He also sees no problem in taking supplies and goods home from the office to use for his personal use; and, if you undercharge him for a meal or return too much change, it is simply your misfortune—because, after all, he is entitled to it. Now, you will probably agree with me that the only thing this guy is entitled to is my disrespect. He has earned only my reproach and disfavor. However, the sad thing about him is that he is not alone. He is a member of a legion of people who are like-minded with him. He is raising his children to embrace this viewpoint of entitlement. I am naïve enough to believe that not so long ago it was not this way. I am naïve enough to believe that in the days of my parents and grandparents a man was only as good as his word. A man was expected to work hard and receive the rewards of his labor. Of course there were always people who have taken advantage of that goodness. That is an unfortunate trait of greed that has always run through the character of man. But, generally speaking, people were honest and decent and good. This misused concept of “entitlement” has destroyed some of that goodness. This crutch of entitlement has become the opium of the masses. It is touted as the salvation of the underprivileged and has proven to insure that each and every man, woman, and child has a better than average chance to remain underprivileged. It has removed the incentive from doing an honest day’s work—why should you when someone will give you a hand-out. It has taken advantage of those who are truly underprivileged and removed their chance of respect and nurture by those who could do better. The ridiculous thing about this is that now those who enter our country illegally are now entitled to these things. We are not content to warp the character of only our own citizens; we will now do it to anyone who can creep across our border in the still of the night—after all our courts have determined they are entitled to it. I yearn for a time when people will once more be entitled to things that are deserved—a time when people will not assume that they deserve what everybody else has. I was raised to believe that I deserve those things I earn. I earn those privileges I work for. If I make an agreement to purchase that dishwasher, I must honor the agreement and pay for it. I am not entitled to receive the benefit of the goods and not pay for it. I believe there are precious few things that I am entitled to. Those things are God given and are gifted to me by His mercy. I am truly entitled with those things our Founding Fathers realized when they established our independence as a nation, being life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I will not ask for more; I simply am not entitled to it. |
| Title: Has Anybody Got a Shovel? Date: January 12, 2007, Friday Thought: The wolf at the door does not care how you got there; his interest is only gobbling on your hind-section if he can. Jog: My blog page, which I stubbornly refer to my ‘jog’ page because I rebel from using the gross word ‘blog’, resembles the body of Rocky Balboa after a fight--all black and blue. I yearn to have an all ‘blue’ month—something which I have never done. However, right now I’d be tickled pink if I could simply achieve an all ‘blue’ week. Alas, it is not in the cards for me at this time. Consistently, I have begun my day at 4 o’clock or earlier in the morning. It seems I have no choice if I am to accomplish all that I need to accomplish in my day. Even at that I appear to have more work left at the end of the day than I initially began with; what in the world is with that? I have been able to satisfy my clients thus far. Spreading my workload and Barry’s workload has been a challenge. It is an exercise in crisis management. I think I’ll write a dang book about it. My final chapter will be “DON’T GET YOURSELF IN THIS MESS TO BEGIN WITH !!!” Sometimes, just sometimes, you find yourself in crisis situations from no fault of your own. Let me share with you that fact has little impact on the situation; it’s still a crisis even if you feel fully justified that it ain’t your fault. The wolf at the door does not care how you got there; his interest is gobbling on your hind-section if he can. There is only one solution and that is to deal with it. Not dealing with it just makes it worse. So how in the world do you climb out of the crisis chasm? Well, although I could write a book on this—and probably should—I offer only two pieces of advice. 1. One bite at a time / one step at a time and 2. Don’t dig the thing deeper, it’s big enough and this ain’t no well. There are two ‘old sayings’ that support each other and endorse the first step. “Every journey begins with a single step.” “How do you eat an elephant?—one bite at a time.” The crises we face will not go away if left unaddressed. It does no good to dream about the day when they are gone. Dreams without action are simply wishful thinking. To overcome our crises we must take more steps forward than we take backward. That means we need a plan. We must identify the crisis, list (write them down) the tasks that need to be accomplish to lessen the crisis, and act on them one task at a time. We must not expect it to go away simply because we have a plan. Nope, usually the dang thing grew into the monster it is over a period of time. It’s gonna take a little time to get rid of it. Be patient—but, by all means DO SOMETHING ! Now, this brings up a small detail. The something that you do must be constructive and productive. I mean it should take a whack at the crisis. It does little good to scarf down a pan of brownies when you feel overwhelmed by that monster crisis. That “doing something” will only make you overweight. Unfortunately, the “something we do” often makes the crisis worse. You have a rotten day at work, you don’t feel like cooking in a hot kitchen, the kids are screaming “Happy meal, happy meal!”, you withdraw money from the ATM, causing you to bounce five checks, which cost you eighty dollars. That’s an expensive release from pressure that just adds more problems. When you find yourself in a hole the best thing is to STOP DIGGING ! Unfortunately, many of us think the solution is to get a bigger shovel and some help. Don’t do that ! Look around you; think about it a little bit; and make yourself a plan that doesn’t mean getting a bigger shovel. OK, you’ve just been indoctrinated to Dan’s Rule for Managing Crises. It’s a simple little rule that is easier to say than to do. But, the good news is it CAN be done. I’ve placed myself in enough crises to affirm it works. It’s not flashy and takes a lot of work, but it is effective. So, with that I must leave now and practice what I preach. I gotta go do a little whacking on a crisis or two of my own. |
| Title: On Birthing Words Date: January 7, 2007, Sunday Thought: It is interesting that the arrangement of words on a page can become so important to us. When we arrange them just right we sit back and watch them take a life of their own. Jog: Now, I know I’m on shaky ground whenever I talk about giving birth. When I say those words, women put their hands on their hips, cock their heads sideways, and roll their eyes. They wait expectantly with the attitude that says, “OK, joker, what piece of wisdom do you think you’re gonna share about something of which you have absolutely no experience?” So, I want to make it clear that any reference to childbirth is made from total ignorance of personal experience. I also know that just being there when my own children were born is of little consequence. I was just an observer. Therefore, I use the birth process as a simple analogy of a wondrous and precious happening. Now, I’m on this kick because of David McClain . That’s right; it’s all his fault. You see, Tor went out and wrote a story. He received the germination of an idea in that head of his, which is a miracle of it’s own that I’ll let CC discuss in detail. He took that idea and threw some words together, birthing each one of them. As a result we all have a pretty good story to read and be blessed by. Go over and give it a read yourself; don't take my word for it.
It is interesting that the arrangement of words on a page can become so important to us. When we arrange them just right we sit back and watch them take a life of their own. Birthing words is certainly less painful than childbirth, at least that’s what I’m told. But each of us goes through a period of labor with each new story. Some times they come easy sometimes it takes a long and arduous time. In any case, it takes a lot of nurturing to bring it to fruition. Perhaps that’s why so many of us get stuck in the blog cycle. It’s easier to just throw words out there on a regular basis with few rules and fewer expectations. It satisfies our need to fling something on the screen and doesn’t tax our imaginations too much. I want to thank David McClain for reminding me of the excitement of birthing these words. Perhaps I will spend some time of my own in the delivery room. Unfortunately, I need the time to do it and the incentive. Tor has provided the incentive; somehow now, I’ve got to find the time. In the meantime, congratulations to Tor, the proud father. |
| Title: I’m a Planter Date: January 6, 2007, Saturday Thought: It just seems no one really knows what the heck I do; and, it’s a little frustrating going through life as a mystery. Jog: How many people live in Arlington, Texas? Most folks don’t really care. The number is just a number; it’s interesting to know but of no real value. That is unless it is related to the financial cost of developing property and the timely provision of infrastructure--you know, water, sewer, storm drainage, and streets. You don’t want to build the infrastructure too soon; that would be spending money that did not need to be spent. The public generally frowns on that. You certainly don’t want to build it too late; that would be crisis spending, which is always much more expensive. Nope, what you want to do is to build it at just the right time. In order to know when the right time is, you gotta know what the population is and where it is. That’s when we care about how many folks live in the City of Arlington, Texas. Where do you get that number? Who knows how many people live in any particular place at any particular time? Who is it that puts those numbers in the reports and on the Internet so we can easily click on the link and discover how many people are living at a particular place? Well, I do; and folks like me. Part of what I do is fortune telling. I’m not unlike the wizard in the funny cape that sits behind a gaudy table at a carnival side-show. I gaze into my crystal ball of planning and tell folks what the magic number is today, and for an additional price I’ll tell them what it will be tomorrow and twenty years from tomorrow. Not only will I tell them what that magic number is, but I will also tell them where the people will be. With this knowledge cities can assign costs to future growth and develop strategies to pay for that growth in a timely manner. A team of professionals, whose job it is to do just that, have been assembled to determine that information for the City of Arlington, Texas. The fact of the matter is that there are a number of different teams competing for that privilege. I am a member of just one of those teams. On January 30th, I will joining my team members, other firms selected from specialty areas, to interview with the city, hoping to be selected to complete that assignment. If selected, we will develop Impact Fees for the City of Arlington. That’s a critical thing. It will tell developers what their financial obligation to the community will be for the privilege of developing property. With that collected fee, new infrastructure will be constructed at just the right time. I’m the guy who determines the population of the city ten years from today; and not only how many people are living there but how they are distributed across the city. Other members of the team will tell us how much and where the infrastructure should be located; and yet others will determine how much it will cost and distribute that cost over ten years to be reflected in a fee. Together we form a planning team. Teamed with an architect firm in a totally different assignment, I’m doing that same thing right now for the Everman Independent School District. It appears they are sort of interested in knowing how many children are living in the school district and just where they are located today and in the future. They want to know just how many schools to build, where to build them, and how big they should be. Someone’s gotta tell them where the kids are. I’ll massage my crystal planning ball and produce the numbers. After that, somewhere down the line, bond issues will be voted on, tax money will be collected, and schools will be designed and built. Now, at about this time, I suspect you are wondering, “That’s interesting information, Dan; but, why in the world are you telling me all this stuff?” It all goes back to the ‘blank stare into the headlights” look I get when someone asks me what I do. I say, “I’m a municipal planner.” They say, “Oh?” Often they’re thinking, ”What the heck is that?” Not wanting it to remain a secret, I thought I’d share a little of what I do. I’ve already done a little of that with past entries. Now, it’s important to me that you know I share this not because I’m trying to impress you in any way. Nope, if I had wanted to impress you there are other areas that I would surely delve into; after all, what I do is not brain surgery or rocket science. It just seems no one really knows what the heck I do; and, it’s a little frustrating going through life as a mystery. When my kids were small, folks would ask, “What does your daddy do?” They would grin and say, “He’s a planter,” which would leave the impression of some sort of agricultural activity. I usually did not try to correct them. People understood what farmers did; they often did not understand what I did, even after I tried to explain it. And so there you have it; I’m a guesser. I make educated guesses. I’m a fortune teller with a professional fee. To some folks I will always be a "planter". Unfortunately, this revelation to you does not mean I’ll not delve into my work in future entries. Nope, that’s what I do and it sorta spills over into everything else I touch. To sum it up, in simple words, that’s what “planters” do; we grow stuff. In my case it’s cities. |
| Title: Don’t Tell Me I Can’t Do That! Date: January 5, 2007, Friday Thought: We put regulations into place that protects the investment of the guys next door, and at the same time give you a right to do stuff. That does not mean you get to do whatever you want to do. Jog: It is amazing that a staunch conservative such as myself has become a champion of the liberal application of local governmental rules and regulations. What a strange hybrid I am. At APA (American Planning Association) conferences I am rubbing elbows with flaming liberals hell bent on crucifying ole George and any other Republican that is caught in the hanging frenzy. Those liberal fanatics are my friends and my closest business associates. I am opposed to almost everything my friends are supporting. That is with the exception of local government regulations. On that ground we stand elbow to elbow and slug it out with big business, land developers, and every redneck mom and pop who wants to build a better outhouse in their backyard. I’m the guy who formulates and writes the zoning ordinances that tell folks what they can and can’t do with their own property. What an evil thing zoning is made to be, that is unless someone is building something you personally do not agree with. Oh, you can build a two story RV shelter and paint it red and located it right up against your neighbors bathroom window; but don’t dare think about someone else putting a sexually oriented business within ten miles of your house. Nope, when that happens all I hear is, “We’ve got rights! We don’t need some sex shop in our backyard! What are you gonna do about it? Where are the regulations?” Folks, you gotta be careful what you ask for. Demand regulations and you will probably get lots of regulations. It is unreasonable to expect regulations to be adopted that only agree with your personal likes and dislikes. Regulations were not intended to protect your interests exclusively. Good zoning regulations say, “OK, you’ve got rights; but, your rights cease when your interests negatively impact the interest of the total community.” Folks no man is an island. We live with other people and we can’t expect our interests to be protected to the detriment of others. And that’s what zoning is all about. We put regulations into place that protects the investment of the guys next door, and at the same time give you a right to do stuff. That does not mean you get to do whatever you want to do. And that, my friend is the rub. “It’s my property an’ I ought to be able to do with it as I dang well wish!” It is surprising to most folks when I tell them I agree. You ought to be able to do with it as you wish, as long as you don’t harm everyone living around you in the process. We have rules and regulations to protect people. Our speed limits help to keep us from crashing into each other at warp speeds. We’ve got rules that prevent folks from walking into my yard and stealing my pink flamingos. We’ve even got laws that prevent me from marrying my sister, not that I would want to; but they tell me I can’t just the same. Likewise, there are rules that tell me what I can do and can’t do with my own property. That’s the price I gladly pay for the protection that it affords. Now, the interesting thing about zoning laws that so rudely slap our hands when we think about constructing a slaughter house next to the school, is that they actually cause the value on our property to increase. They also are an incentive for other businesses and construction of higher quality to located around them. For, developers are thankful to know that their investment will be protected. The same law that tells me I can’t construct a slaughter house and paint it purple tells the guy next door he can’t do it either. It’s good to know that you are protected. Can zoning laws go too far, be too restrictive?—Absolutely. I am constantly reigning in Planning and Zoning Commissions and City Councils regarding overly restrictive regulations. They sometimes forget that they do not own the property in question, it’s just located in their jurisdiction. That’s part of my job. But another part of it is to enforce the ordinances that they adopt, even if at times I don’t agree with them. That’s some of what I do. I’m not always the most popular guy in the building. But, I don’t have to be popular, just fair. That’s what this entry is all about. I’ve just written staff letters that will cause significant changes in plans and in some cases kill the deal. That is an unfortunate thing. But, some of these deal need to go away. Few people will thank me for that. Heck, most folks will not even know that we’ve dodged a bullet. They will sleep peacefully in the security of the system and yell and scream at us tomorrow insisting we do more to protect the wildlife and stop global warming with our zoning ordinances. You just can’t make some folks happy no matter what you do. I’ve stopped trying. |
| Title: Living in Spurts Date: January 4, 2007, Thursday Thought: I am ( and I suspect you are too) a creature of habit. I love to have a routine—a regular way that I do things. Jog: Have you ever held your finger over the opening of a hose and ‘spurted’ the water? Or better yet, crimped the hose to totally shut the water off and then release it and crimp it again, controlling the water flow in spurts? Well, that appears to be the way I’m living my life—in spurts. There is nothing intrinsically bad about that; it’s just the way it is. I run like the dickens on one task that is office related (crimp)…and then I work a little on some personal stuff (crimp)…back to the office stuff (crimp)…over to some different office stuff (crimp)…trot around the park with Max (crimp)…out to lunch with Linda (crimp)….back to some office stuff (crimp)…and, on and on it goes. I live in spurts. I suspect it is no different that any other human. So, what are you to do when the spurts get to be short bursts of activity that constantly interrupt your life and create chaos of your universe? You just gotta do something. So, what are you to do? My options are limited. I can do nothing and let life just proceed spurting along life’s squishy highway. I don’t like that option because I’m not in control; I just gotta have a sense of control. I can attempt to organize the spurts. You know, group them according to volume, direction, intensity. That’s nice and organized but it doesn’t help the situation much because they are still there; only now I know where and what they are—big deal; I still get wet. I can learn to live with them—incorporate them into my lifestyle. Then I can tell folks, “Yeah, I know I’m leakin’ in every direction; that’s the way I planned it.” I am ( and I suspect you are too) a creature of habit. I love to have a routine—a regular way that I do things. (This is not to be confused with a rut; nope, ruts are places you find yourself in that you just can’t escape from.) I mentioned in a previous entry that I had a pre-morning routine. That is in fact an organized grouping of spurts. I do the same thing for work hours (9 to 5). The evening hours are ‘freestyle’. The first spurt rules the evening…usually. There are exceptions of course, depending on the gravity of the spurt. OK, now this spurt that you have been reading, what I call my ‘jog” (I detest the word ‘blog’ and realize that ‘journal’ does not quite apply so I’ve adapted to the word ‘jog’ which is a mixture of the two) is just about spurted out. I have no earthly idea how to conclude this little discourse or if any of it makes any sense at all. But, not wanting to recreate a spurt, I will simply conclude it abruptly…(crimp) |
| Title: Challenges and Burdens Date: January 3, 2007, Wednesday Thought: Addressing obstacles can be looked at two ways: as a burden or as a challenge. Choose to look at it as a challenge and you will be productive. Choose to look at it as a burden and you will be tired. Jog: The clock in the corner of my computer says it is 5:45 am. I’ve been up for two hours working on preparing for a meeting in Bedford, TX. The meeting is at 1:30 pm and I am ready (I’ll be reviewing five rezoning cases with the City staff). This time is part of my pre-morning. Pre-morning extends from the time I get out of bed in the morning until after breakfast. In that period I usually can put the final touches on a work project, write a short blog (depending on the extent of touching I have to do on work), walk Max the required two miles, shower and groom, and eat breakfast. That usually puts me near 9:00 am. I have a full day. I have the meeting with Bedford at 1:30 pm and a meeting with Cleburne, TX at 6:00 pm (I’ll be meeting with the Historic Preservation Commission to discuss adopting a new Historic Preservation Ordinance and preparing Design Guidelines for Historic Preservation). I will need to leave for the Bedford meeting early so I can drive by all the sites that are being requested to be rezoned. It helps if I can put a visual reference on the issue. That means I get to eat lunch in the truck…delightful. All this means that my productive time spent on being marvelously creative, which I am, is limited to the time period between 9:00 am till 11:30 am and sometime after 7:30 pm tonight. Welcome to my day. I organized my workload over the New Year’s break. Well, it was more like a listing and identifying of things to do. But, the work has been categorized into tasks with due dates. Now, I know it sounds very efficient to do such a thing…and it is. But it is also very depressing. My list of active clients now numbers seventeen municipalities. There are thirty separate task efforts currently active among those seventeen cities. Some of the tasks are simple and some of them are very complex. Needless to say, I’ve got stuff to do. Exciting, isn’t it? Yesterday I received a telephone call from the Director of Community Development of the City of Granbury, TX. It seems that they have decided that they want my firm, me basically, to assist them in preparing an update to their Comprehensive Land Use Plan. This is no great surprise since I prepared their original Comprehensive Plan. But, I called them last week before the New Year holiday and informed them I would be unable to do the mapping for the project and my work load is very heavy because of Barry’s departure. I figured they would say, “Oops, I’m sorry; but that means someone else will have to do this.” But they did not do as I expected…drat. They called and said, “Well, you just mark up the maps and we will do them in-house. We still want you to do the public meetings, analysis and drafting of the new Plan.” Hmm, what can I say other than, “Sure.” Now, some would think this is a time for panic. It isn’t. This is what consultants do. This is our life’s blood. There are two kinds of stress in life. Stress that destroys and causes chaos….and heart attacks. And there is the stress of challenge. The stress of challenge increases the adrenaline flow, sharpens the senses, and exercises the will and mind. There are some of us who thrive on this kind of stress. It is what the medical community calls ‘good stress.’ The difficult thing is that there is a fine line that separates the two. It is easy for the challenge to turn into a burden. I believe that is what happened with my former employee, Barry. He could not take the stress and consequently jumped ship. And, that’s OK; it just gives me another paddle to use. Addressing obstacles can be looked at two ways: as a burden or as a challenge. Choose to look at it as a challenge and you will be productive. Choose to look at it as a burden and you will be tired. I believe there are no problems out there, there are just solutions waiting to be discovered. I have a autographed photograph of Fred Hayes, Apollo 13 astronaut. Upon discovering the fatal problem with the Apollo 13 capsule, Gene Kranz, lead flight director for Mission Control, announced to the ground crew in Houston that “failure is not an option.” Along with his signature, Fred Hayes wrote the quote, “Failure is not an option.” I believe that. And that is how I will live my busy day today, and tomorrow, and the day after that. It is much easier to smile than to frown. In fact, look at the people today who are frowning and smiling. Which one would you rather be like? |
| Title: Resolutions and Goals Date: January 1, 2007, Monday—New Year’s Day Thought: The first day of a New Year is a marvelous opportunity for setting goals. We are inspired on the first day to do so. Jog: A resolution is nothing more than a goal. Folks have been setting resolutions, establishing goals, at New Year’s for as long as I can remember. I don’t know who started it or when it got to be a big deal. All I know is that almost everyone sets New Year’s resolutions and then proceeds to break them. Why is that? Why is it so hard to keep the resolutions that are set on the first day of the New Year? Well, I believe the reason is two-fold. First we set unrealistic resolutions and second, they are not attainable. Faced with those two facts, we are virtually destined to break the resolutions. And, as a result, our solution to this frustrating problem is to simply not set resolutions. Now, I know a little about goal setting. That is part of the thing I do for cities when we enter into the planning process. The simple fact of the matter is that if we wish to get somewhere we must have a plan on how to get there. Folks set goals every day—you do it—I do it. When you head for your place of work in the morning, you have a goal in mind—the office. When you arrive there you have achieved your goal. Setting goals (establishing resolutions) is as simple as that. The fact of the matter is we are all goal-setters; however, only a few of us write those goals down. Achievers in business and highly motivated people tend to write their goals down. There are different levels of sophistication on how this is done. Some folks just scribble a few goals on a pad of paper; some are much more elaborate and have them printed on forms and incorporated into a life program. I fall somewhere in-between. However, I am in total agreement that for a goal to be taken seriously, it must be a written goal. So, write them down. I challenge each one of you to attempt a simple exercise. In as few sentences as possible write down your Mission Statement. You may have already done this. It may be all you need to do is to get it out and dust it off. The critical thing about this challenge is that you write it down. Now, a Mission Statement is quite simply your approach to living life. It is in its simplest form a goal statement. If I have only one resolution every year it is to give more attention to achieving my Mission Statement. Now, you can embrace some Mission Statements that have already been prepared (i.e. Ten Commandments, New Testament); that is good but is not good enough. A Mission Statement must be yours. It can include a commitment to other already established Mission Statements, but it should be uniquely yours. As an example you can look at my Mission Statement. I have one for my personal life as well as one for my professional life. However, if I only had one, I would choose the personal Mission Statement.
For goals (resolutions) to be taken seriously, to be useful, they must satisfy at least five criteria. Now, you will find variations of these criteria provided by many different people and sources; but this is a ‘list of five’ that qualifies for Scarlett’s rule of lists. Goals must be reasonable. “I want to shop on the planet Saturn” is not a reasonable goal. In our lifetime, it cannot be achieved. A goal must be reachable. “I want to shop in New York City this year” is attainable. “I want to be down to a size 28 pants” is not a reasonable goal for me. “I want to reduce my pant size by two sizes in nine months” is a reasonable goal. Goals must be specific. ”I want to shop someplace different” is not specific. It is easy to fail to achieve goals that really have no direction or challenge. “I want to shop in New York City this year” is specific. It tells us where and when. Goals must be time sensitive. Our goals must have a reasonable period of time in which they may be achieved. That time period can vary depending on the nature of the goal. The time period for my Mission Statement is my life span. To be useful, the time period for a goal to lose weight must be within a much shorter span—probably a matter of months. Goals must be measurable. This is obvious. For us to be able to progress toward meeting our goals we must be able to measure them. Pounds lost, inches reduced, dress sizes dropped, pages written, stories submitted—all these things are measurements. Goals must be yours. Goals are personal. Although each of us may wish the same result in some areas, the goal for which we strive is uniquely ours. Your goal may be like someone else’s, but it must be uniquely established and accepted as being yours alone. The only person who can achieve your goal is you. This is why it is so important for you to write them down. There is only one of them; it’s your goal—write it down. The last thing I will touch on regarding goals pertains to scope. I believe that at least one goal should be set in each of five areas of your life. You may have multiple goals in any one area, but you should have at least one goal in each of the following: Spiritual, Personal, Professional, Health, and Financial areas of your life. The remarkable thing is that there is no rule as to when we set these goals. The first day of a New Year is a marvelous opportunity for setting goals. We are inspired on the first day to do so. But if you miss the first day or the first month, it does not mean you’ve lost your opportunity. Nope, anytime you set down with pen and paper or behind the keyboard is a good time to set goals. Give it a little thought. Think about where you want to be this time next year and how you can get there, and then write it down. |
| Title: Whiskers and Uncombed Hair Date: December 26, 2006, Tuesday Thought: I remember the dread of crawling out of bed on the day after Christmas with the prospect of going back to the office. In spite of the joy of the season, the mere fact that I would now return to the routine of giving a piece of my life for a dollar, day after day, was pretty depressing. Jog: I grew up at a time when automatic transmissions were not necessarily the norm in cars. If you were a guy, you had to learn to drive a standard shift transmission because every job had an old truck with a standard shift. Clutch, gas, shift, in just the proper proportion, and you moved smoothly down the road. But mess any one of those up and it was apparent to the world what a rookie you were. And then along came automatic transmissions and the only thing you had to do was step on the gas and watch for the police. We accelerated from a sitting stop through all the gears without even realizing what it took to get there. It seems to me that is exactly what we are doing with the holiday seasons. We are in automatic transmission mode. It begins with Halloween, which has become one of the big spending holidays of the season. We cruise through (in Nada’s case literally) November with Thanksgiving, where we catch our breath as we head into Christmas; and then with Santa’s sleigh behind us we fly into overdrive right through New Year's. From October to January we never shift a gear; we just step on the gas. We are currently on the last turn and heading down the stretch toward New Year's. Today the stores are engaged in open warfare with the ‘return’ crowd. David McClain ought to have a story or two for us about that. Everyone is back to work, especially the stay-at-home moms who have stay-at-home-kids who won’t go back to school until the first week in January. We are in high gear as we speed to the end of the year and the beginning of a new one.I remember the dread of crawling out of bed on the day after Christmas with the prospect of going back to the office. In spite of the joy of the season, the mere fact that I would now return to the routine of giving a piece of my life for a dollar, day after day, was pretty depressing. However, I am one of the fortunate souls who have escaped that routine. Don’t get me wrong, I still toil in the salt mines my fair share. I just do it on my terms. And, today my terns include ‘whiskers and uncombed hair.’ I stumbled into my office early, sometime around 7:30 am. It would have been earlier except for the fact that a black dog began pestering me around 4:00 a.m. to go for his morning walk. The rule is: “We don’t walk if the sun ain’t shinnin’” And, at 4:00 a.m. it definitely was not shinning. But I forgot the corollary to that rule that says, “You can start the walk if’n the Sun will be shinnin’ when you finish it.” And, so I found my cold arse out walking on a deserted and frosty golf course as the Sun rose. Needless to say, Max was quite content. I survived the frozen tundra of the Texas golf course, which had plunged to an amazing 40 degrees (give me a break, this is Texas, we don’t get much colder than that where I live). I slogged home and found the solace of a warm but messy office. And that is where you will find me right now—sitting at my desk with whiskers and uncombed hair. And that is how I intend to remain. I may be stuck on this ride through the holiday season, but danged if I’m gonna return to the routine. In fact, I want to be snuggling in bed, but responsibilities demand that I make a dollar. And so I will reluctantly return to the work force, but I’m gonna do it on my terms with whiskers and uncombed hair…'cause I can. (Dan pushes in the clutch and downshifts into third gear, the engine revs and we are pulled forward by the sudden decrease in speed.) Think I’ll coast into New Year's in third gear. |
| Title: The Greatest Milestone Date: December 24, 2006, Sunday – Christmas Eve Thought: Be aware that this entry contains religious content. Jog: Milestones are markers. By definition they inform you how far you have traveled or how far you have yet to go. As I drive on the Interstate highways, I keep somewhat attentive to the mile markers as they zip by on the side of the road. It seems to make the trip progress faster if I keep up with them. I mentally calculate my speed even though I have a speedometer right in front of me. I also calculate the time elapsed since my trip began and the time estimated to my destination. I’m that kind of person; I need control of the situation, whatever it may be. I’m also a map person. I pick out features shown on the map, like rivers and streams, county lines, and significant curves in the road that show up on the map. I haven’t had the fortune of having a GPS system in my vehicle yet. Lord knows I would wear the thing out tracking my progress as I traveled. Linda puts up with a lot; she just shrugs and rides along, trying to be a competent navigator, even though maps are not her thing. But it all starts with the mile markers—milestones. We have divided the span of our lives into milestones. They are measured in many ways but the most common is time. Time passes in a continuum—constantly progressing. There is no break in time; it neither stops nor does it skip ahead—it just passes. We have decided to measure it’s passing by dividing it into recognizable sections. The easiest is day and night. A pair of these signifies one day. We group the days together; and it has been done in many different ways. From this grouping we measure months and years. For some reason we have established the year as a significant milestone in the passage of time. In fact there is no great accomplishment in passing from 2006 to 2007. They are just a second apart. Each year represents 31,536,000 individual seconds (not accounting for Leap Year.) I look forward and wonder how I will spend the next 31,536,000 seconds. I assume I will have each one to deal with. That is a presumptuous thing to do. None of us are guaranteed another 31,536,000 seconds. We are guaranteed the second we are currently spending….and then it is gone much too quickly. I look ahead expectantly at the New Year speeding towards me. I am excited and braced for the challenges it will bring. I look behind me gratefully. There are many good things that happened in the seconds past. I’ve been fortunate to spend almost two billion seconds in this life of mine. For someone who was not guaranteed a single second, I feel fortunate indeed. And, as for the second I am currently spending, well, my hope is that I’ve spent it wisely. Although, I realize that so many of them have been spent foolishly, squandered away at some insane activity that was neither a testament to my life or productive. I suppose with almost two billion of them to account for a few will fall by the wayside. And, so I come to the wondrous subject of this discourse. It amazes me and humbles me to understand that God chose to intervene into the continuum of time and insert into it a baby. And, it is that small child that brings purpose into all of this. That event was the greatest milestone ever. For not only was He to bring peace into the seconds of our lives, He also takes us beyond the measurement of time. Forever is a very long time. In fact it is the point where time becomes meaningless, unmeasured. For a brief moment I methodically measure time in this world. There will come a time when it is no longer measured. That Babe in the manger came into this world so that I could spend eternity in His world. It is His small gift to us. It can’t be bought at Wal-Mart or ordered over the internet. It was paid for by His own blood and has freely been given to me, if I will but accept it. Now, there are some out there who will want to argue about this. There are some who profess themselves to be great thinkers and have reasoned their way through this. I respect that; in fact I respect each creation of God as a thing of worth, even those who scoff and ridicule this great gift. I can only speak for myself; I have accepted this gift a long time ago. What you do with it is your business. All I know is that the meaning of this Christmas season is not found in the stores nor is it even found in the good will we show to our neighbor. The meaning is found in the Gift that was given to us. What a glorious thing God did for me; and how awesome are the implications of the manner in which I receive it. God bless you all on this evening that we celebrate the giving of the Gift. |
| Title: I Don’t Suppose You Remember….?” Date: December 23, 2006, Saturday Thought: What is it about nostalgia that is so appealing? I smiled at song after song and sang along with the ones I could remember, which was shockingly many of them. Jog: Ever get a song goin’ in your head and can’t get it to go away? Sure you have! Well, I’ve got that happenin’ to me right now—and it’s not even a full-blown song…it’s just a TV theme song. You see, I found this site on the Internet—it’s pretty cool. http://melaman2.com/tvshows/index.html It has hundreds of old TV theme songs. I spent a significant amount of valuable time that could certainly have been otherwise more productively spent, just wandering through that site. What is it about nostalgia that is so appealing? I smiled at song after song and sang along with the ones I could remember, which was shockingly many of them. Did I really spend that much time watching this stuff when I was younger? Time after time I would call out to Linda, “Hey! Come here and listen to this one. Betcha don’t remember this one?” We giggled and laughed, sang together, and shook our heads in wonder about where the time went. Anyway, I woke up this morning singing, in my head, the theme song to “WKRP, Cincinnati” Baby, if you’ve ever wondered… wondered whatever became of me? I’m living on the air in Cincinnati… Cincinnati WKRP. Got kinda tired of packin’ and unpackin’ Town to town up and down the dial. Maybe you and me were never meant to be Just maybe think of me once in a while I’m at WKRP in Cincinnati Fortunately, its kinda catchy. Could be worse, could be the theme song to The Real McCoys…now that would be annoying. I spent a significant amount of time downloading gobs of these. I’m gonna make a game out of it and play them to my friends from church. They’re all as old as I am and will get a kick out of it. Geeze, that “Flipper” theme song, can you believe they actually had a TV series about a fish? An’ I really like the M*A*S*H theme song and also China Beach. Well, I don’t know how to end this so I’ll just hum off into the sunset. Baby, if you’ve ever wondered… wondered whatever became of me? I’m living on the air in Cincinnati… Cincinnati WKRP. |
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