Welcome to Big Old Goofy World . . . a place where I can share my thoughts, hopes, and dreams about this rock that we live on and call home.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

A Little Potpourri

"A miscellaneous collection."

Maybe we have crossed that imaginary line with the weather here in Montana--at least in the lower elevations.  This morning began with a rain storm.  That was all . . . just rain.  There was no snow mixed into the rain.  There was no snow that turned over to rain later in the day.  It was just plain old rain.  Oh, I am sure the mountains picked up some snow and that is not unusual in Montana where it can snow during any month of the year.  But today was different . . . it was just rain.  The earth around here loved it.  The grass greened up, the leaves began to sprout, and there was mud.  Everyone and everything sucked it in.  This was a spring rain.  Maybe, just maybe, we have crossed over that imaginary line that separates winter from spring.  If so, we had better enjoy it while it lasts!  

Plus, if we have really crossed over that imaginary line not only does new growth signify a new season, but it also signifies the changing of the tools.  Gone are the snow shovels, snow tires, sand bags in the back of the trucks . . . and out comes the lawn mower, the rakes and shovels, all the lawn care stuff.  With that stuff also comes the annual yard care lament as I mow the grass, weed the gardens, fight the dandelions, and attempt to keep everything green.  This is not work that I enjoy doing . . . it is a part of the contract I agreed to when I got married.  I should have read the fine print . . .

Spoke to a neighbor this evening and learned that his son, who lives next door to him, got a fine for his dog peeing on a bush in his father's yard.  The dog was basically on his own property (the houses have adjoining yards) when he needed to take a leak.  So the bush got baptized.  Somehow the local law enforcement officer, driving down from the school, decided that the dog was roaming the streets and was a hazard to the community.  So the officer stopped, fined the man, and drove off.  Thirty dollars for the dog watering a bush on its own property.  To say the least this did not sit well with the son.  I was flabbergasted at the story--especially since the dog was on its own property and peeing on its own tree.  But, no, said the officer, the dog was running in and out of the street.  Now I am afraid to let my dogs go out into the front yard--they might get caught peeing.  The headlines would be terrible: "Local Pastor's Dogs Run Rampant--Peeing on Trees!"  

I guess it must have been a slow day for the officer as our little community of 600 rural people have such a high crime rate.  The officer had nothing better to do than to write a ticket for a dog taking a leak on its own property.  Then he had the audacity to fine the leaky pup thirty dollars.  I guess that was better than him using his one city-issued bullet to shoot the poor dog for taking an illegal leak.  I don't blame the dog.  I think that when Mother Nature calls that is one call we all ought to answer.  It just doesn't seem fair that it cost the dog thirty dollars.  I wonder that the fine would have been if this had happened:

 Book him, Dano!

I went to a book sale at the wife's church today--thousands and thousands of books.  It is a really good deal because they sale them for almost nothing and make a ton of money.  Despite being in the land of books I walked away without purchasing one book . . . instead I bought a bunch of vinyl records.  Of course anyone under the age of twenty-five is probably wondering what in the world a vinyl record is, plus how in the world a CD that big would ever fit into a CD player.  Before there were 8-track tapes . . . before there were cassette tapes . . . before there were CDs--there were vinyl records.  And they came in two standard sizes 45s and 38s, but even before that there were 78s.  This was how people listened to music in those prehistoric days.  People would flop one of those on the record player and out would come music.  True, it was a little inconvenient to carry a record player around to take the music with you, but that was the price one paid for good music. 

At the book sale there were vinyl records for sale for twenty-five cents a record.  So I picked up some records.  I got the original soundtrack to The Wizard of Oz and The Sound of Music--classics that everyone should own.  I picked up the Best of the Bee Gees, Neil Diamond Gold, Carol King's Tapestry, and Linda Ronstadt's Silk Purse.  I also got a copy of the original soundtrack of Jesus Christ Superstar (recorded by the original London cast--bet you didn't know that it was a major hit in England before it ever got over to the United States).  I got them all for three bucks.  Besides loving the music I was also moved by something else . . . cash signs.  These original records--all in good shape--had to be worth more than the three bucks I paid for them.  I was seeing big bucks in my mind as some of these records went all the way back to the dark ages of 1962.  These weren't just records, these were an investment to retire on.

Pipe dreams at best.  True they were worth more than the three dollars I paid for them, but nothing even close to retiring on.  In fact there wasn't enough there to even fill the tank of the car.  When it was all said and done the value of the records I bought was a whopping thirty dollars--thirty dollars if I could find someone to pay me that.  Oh well, it was worth the three bucks to see the look of joy on the wife's face as she went through each of the record remembering that she used to have most of them.  Plus, after I tried to shove one into the car's CD player, getting it stuck, I figure it will probably take more than thirty dollars to get all the broken pieces out of the player.  Oh well, live and learn!

Tomorrow morning I take the number two son to a doctor appointment in the big city.  Afterwards he wants to do a little shopping for clothes.  He does not like to go shopping with me because we do not see eye-to-eye on the value of things--in particular clothing.  Lets just get it right out in the open--I am cheap.  My children, especially son number two, sees no problem in spending the big bucks for clothing.  I cringe if I have to pay more than twenty bucks for a good pair of painter's pants.  My children see no problem in spending upwards towards a hundred dollars for a pair of jeans (with holes already ripped into them).  Shoot I could save them a lot of money if they would just buy a twenty dollar pair of jeans and let me rip a few holes in them--I'd only charge them five bucks a hole!  We could help each other out in doing this.  Waste good money on holy jeans--shoot the wife and I could bless them (after all we are clergy) and make them holy!

Because I squeak because I am so fiscally tight, I really have a hard time shopping with the children.  They see style, I see waste.  They do not care for my little commentary while they shop--especially now that they are buying their own clothes with their own money.  So I have decided that I will bite the bit and get myself some blinders for tomorrow morning while number two son shops.  Actually, I am going to sit on some bench while he shops and people gaze.  Might be the best money he ever spent because it will be a first--Dad kept his mouth shut!  Mark it in red!

Well, as you probably noticed by now this blog really wasn't about much of anything, but at the same time a lot about a few things . . . things that were not even related to one another.  It was just a bunch of potpourri--a miscellaneous collection.  But isn't that the way most of our days go . . . just a collection of miscellaneous experiences that add up to make one day in our lives.  Nothing too spectacular, nothing too boring.  It is just the way that things are.  What was the potpourri that filled your life today--any tickets for peeing dogs?

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