Affirm That Which Is Good and Demand Change Where It Is Needed

Delayed Gratification Could Be Over-Rated

They say that delayed gratification is a sign of maturity. At my age, one would think I should be farther along in the process than I appear to be. I find that before sunset of each work-day, I experience an insatiable desire to check on the progress related to the construction of our home.

My looking doesn’t have any impact on the progress of construction. It just gives me the satisfaction of seeing what is taking place. The discovery either heightens my level of contentment or becomes the basis of concern. Never, does it not have one of those two impacts.

It is only a thirty-minute drive from Dripping Springs to Blanco, but my mathematical skills are good enough to know that driving 300 miles a week is costly. The IRS modified the allowed rate for business travel to 62.5 for the last six months of 2022. Of course, I’m traveling for peace of mind rather than business, but at what cost?

The home next door to us is much farther along in construction than ours. Our builder is responsible for both. The construction on that home started about three weeks before ours. It is now in the phase where doors are locked, and finish work has begun.

That reality give me great hope. I figure the one person who is equally interested in the progress of our home is the builder. The builder doesn’t get paid for each phase of construction until the work is completed. At this point, his interest has to be equivalent to mine.

Interestingly, construction of the house next door has exclusively been without the owner’s checking on daily progress. They are provided a weekly written update with pictures, as our we. Perhaps their maturity level is greater than mine.

They live in the state of Washington and have only been onsite one time about a month ago to make the rock selection and other building choices for their home. I’m sure their primary motivation is along the lines of “come before winter.”

Yesterday proved to be a good day for us. It appeared progress on the rock work was substantial. In addition, the location for the thermostat in the living area has been moved to an interior hallway rather than in clear site when you walk through the front door.

When progress has been made, the General and I are like two kids in a candy store. We go through the same routine with every walk through. We talk about furniture placement and begin to envision out loud how the finished room will look once we move in.

Of course, we go through that same routine even if no progress has been made, but we don’t leave the job site with the sound of: “Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay – My, oh, my, what a wonderful day – Plenty of sunshine headin’ my way-Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay!” rolling around in our heads.  Yesterday, we figuratively clicked our heels as we headed back to our car.

All My Best!

Don

Light Bulb Jokes

How many jokes have you heard regarding how many Aggies it takes to change a light bulb? The obvious answer is one, plus twelve to turn the ladder. Okay, so that’s not knee-slapping funny, but the variation on jokes regarding how many folks in any number of categories it takes to change a light bulb are endless.

I am not an Aggie, but I am the father, father-in-law, brother, and uncle of an Aggie, and (drum roll please) – I cannot change a light bulb. It should not be that hard, but finding the correct light bulb out of a long aisle of light bulbs at Home Depot proved to be a bigger challenge than I expected.

Don’t get me wrong. I took a picture of the light bulb I needed to replace. The light bulb needing replacing came out of a light fixture in the home we are renting from my daughter and son-in-law (both T-sips who wear purple and gold and are diehard fans of LSU). My son-in-law attended LSU three years before transferring to UT. 

So, what reportedly is the origin of the term “T-sip?” I honestly didn’t know the answer: “A student of Texas A&M’s archrival, The University of Texas at Austin. The term T-sip is intended to be derogatory (the origin being that while Aggies were off fighting wars, students of UT Austin were “sipping tea” at home)”.

I spent an inordinate amount of time carefully looking at light bulbs on the light bulb aisle at Home Depot. For the record, the light bulb aisle is no longer where it was previously located. I thought I’d share some light on that in case you want to go look for yourself. My question is “Why?” Why do stores shuffle items from one section of the store to another? My best guess is so that you’ll see things you didn’t anticipate seeing and find something else you want.

The light bulb I was looking for was a dark colored glass. The replacement bulb didn’t appear to exist. Okay, I was smart enough to say “calf rope” and I went to find help.

I found three employees wearing Home Depot badges in the adjacent aisle. The lady I showed the picture of the bulb that I needed said: “I don’t work in the lighting section. If you’ll go to the service desk, you can find assistance.”

They guy at the service desk was helpful. He said: “This is a silver blub. Let me see what I can find”. Turning the computer screen toward me, so I could see, he announced that they didn’t have the blub I needed. The bulbs he found were only silver on the top half.

He suggested I bring in the burned-out bulb with me the next time? I wondered what difference that would make since they reportedly didn’t have that bulb?

Getting back home, the General was dismissive of the fact that I couldn’t find the correct bulb. So, what watt blub was I looking to find? I had no idea. I guess you could say, I would know it when I saw it. 

The General who knows everything looked at the burned out bulb to identify wattage. I told her it wasn’t there. She put on her magic glasses and it no time found 60 watts written on the base that screws into the socket.  She is as sharp as a tack.

She went to her computer, and I went to mine. The search was on! I found what appeared to be the correct bulb before she did. Are you ready for this? The bulb I found wasn’t silver. It was labeled “smoke glass”, and it was in stock at Home Depot?  

The General made me a copy of the page that identified where the correct bulb could be located. The information included the aisle and location. Some might say locating the bulb would be easy-peasy once I got back to the store.

Going back to the Home Depot, I avoided the service desk and walked directly to the aisle and location. I didn’t find what I was looking for even though there reportedly were 12 bulbs in stock.

Enough is enough! I found an employee who took the printed page from my hand and entered the number in an electronic gadget he held in his hand. Presto – he walked with me back to the same aisle where I had looked. What I needed was on the bottom shelf. I went ahead and purchased three bulbs even though I only needed one.

Figuring out that I didn’t have the sense to change a light bulb, the General took the bulb from me and did it herself. She turned the switch on, and the light was closely akin to Saul’s experience on the road to Damascus. It was so bright that it was blinding. It was at least three times brighter than the other two bulbs in the light fixture.

By now, Home Depot was closed for the day. Changing the light bulb would have to wait for another day. Andrea and Kevin stopped by to visit. According to them, the light bulbs were clear glass when they were initially installed. Who would have thought?

All My Best!

Don

Beware Of Conversations That Begin With: “You Need To…”

We don’t have a projected move-in date for our new home’s completion. A friend who earned his living in home construction before retiring recently said: “So you’re getting to the part where things begin to slow down.” I quelled the desire to offer a rebuttal. I hoped he was wrong.

If memory serves me correctly, this is the sixth home we’ve bought that was either under construction at the time we purchased it or yet to be built. The construction phase didn’t take forever. In every situation, in less time than it takes to have a baby, we were out of one place and into a new home.

Toward the end of 1979, the General and I began fantasizing about moving from Austin to Henly. I had accepted the invitation to serve as bi-vocational pastor of the church in Henly in February of that year. Of course, I still had a full-time job elsewhere, but we preferred to live near the church.

We were amid a congregation where most people lived simply. I didn’t know anyone in the congregation with a home mortgage. The General and I were far from being at that place, but it made a nice fantasy.

In early 1980, we purchased ten acres, contacted an architect in Austin, and in lickety-split time had our own set of custom-house plans. What we planned to build was smaller than the home we were living in, but we hoped to at least reduce the length of time of our next home mortgage down from 30 years to 15.

God has a remarkable sense of humor. No sooner had we gotten a bid back from the builder that built our last home in Austin, we discovered that in our old age, like Abraham and Sarah, we were going to have a baby. Consequently, a smaller two-bedroom home no longer had an appeal.

It was back to the drawing board with the architect, restoration of the space we had eliminated from the previous house plans, and the awareness that a 30-year home mortgage didn’t represent the end of the world. Seriously, we were in our early 30s and both had good jobs. It was no big deal.

We moved into our newly constructed home on Christmas Eve of that same year. Did you catch that? All of that activity took place in less than a year. Andrea was born the following week on January 2, 1981.

Last Tuesday, our builder mentioned that putting the stone on our house could likely take a month. The exterior of the house isn’t totally rock. It is complimented with board and batten. The exterior of the home requires one-hundred tons of rock. I never thought about it before, but the stonemasons are going to be lifting 100 tons, one rock at a time. That thought seems overwhelming to me.

Yesterday I received an update from the building superintendent responsible for our home’s construction. He mentioned that progress was being made on the stonework and he anticipated it would be completed by the end of this week.

How do I wrap my head around all of that? The experienced builder mentioned a month. The younger guy is anticipating a week. I honestly don’t know. At best, I’m hoping it is somewhere in the middle.

All of our furniture and household goods have been in storage since the beginning of October 2021. As a rule of thumb, the General eliminates clothing from her closet that she hasn’t worn over the past year.

In developing our house plans, the General insisted that she not share a closet with me. I wasn’t going to argue with her. After all, she tends to be a little OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder), and when it comes to my closet, I don’t have to ensure that everything is color-coded. It will simplify both of our lives to have separate closets. I can hardly wait!

I’ve learned with the General that I need to be on guard whenever she begins a conversation by saying: “You need to…” Yesterday she had the nerve to suggest that I need to get rid of some of my coats.

I have an assortment of lighter jackets (different colors), as well as a couple of heavy coats and an overcoat. The General said I didn’t need all of them. She pointed out that I have coats that I’ve not yet worn.

I’m drawing a line in the sand on this one. When we get moved, I will decide what gets donated from my closet. Something tells me the General and I will have a lot to sort out. This could prove to be “interesting”. I carefully chose that word

All My Best!

Don

The First Game Of The Season

It was the first game of the season. It wasn’t a district game, so it didn’t really count. None of that mattered to the General.  She was ready for us to temporarily move in with Craig and Becky so we don’t miss any of the boy’s games. William is a senior this year. Jake is in the 8th grade.

All week long, she talked about being ready for football.  Okay, I get it.  We were going to drive to Cat Spring on Friday afternoon and be present with a show of support by game time. I initially wrote, “dutifully present”, but that would draw harsh criticism from folks who don’t think the way I think. We are driving home this morning.

I love my family and I am interested in every detail of my grandson’s lives, but the General and I are not on the same page.  I’ll catch flack for saying that, but I’m not driving back to Cat Spring on Tuesday to catch Jake’s eighth-grade game and staying over until Friday to catch William’s next game. That falls somewhere under the definition of insanity.

When we arrived at the stadium, I had a flashback to the last few times we were there. We were in the midst of our “soccer phase” and the General wasn’t going to miss any of those games either.  Cold and wet are the two words that come to mind. Let me modify that and add the concept of bitterly cold and wet. The General purchased a heated stadium seat as if that made an appreciable difference.

When we arrived at the stadium, I noticed Otto and Dorothy already seated on the bench closest to the front of the stadium.  Otto is Becky’s grandfather and Dorothy is his wife. They, too, were ready for game time.

Did I mention that the first half of the game seemingly took forever? At half time the score was 14 to 14.  There were multiple penalties on both sides and many of the players on the opposing team appeared to have leg cramps and need assistance to get up.  It was a long first half.

My eyes consistently fell on Otto and Dorothy sitting on the first bench. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were enjoying the game.  I couldn’t see their faces, but they appeared to be talking.

The second half of the game went by far more quickly. Of course, I say that because the Sealy team edged ahead 39 to 14.  By the fourth quarter, enough seats were vacated so I moved down to talk to Otto and Dorothy.

They were delighted to be at the game. Of course, Otto has two great-grandson’s in the game. William plays defensive end and Rylan, in his junior year, is playing offensive. Both boys played a great game.

By the way, Otto graduated from Sealy High School in 1950. To put that in perspective, I was three years old when he graduated and I am now three days older than dirt.  That was a very long time ago. He, too, had been a Sealy Tiger and played football. 

Dorothy has four sons and they also played football. One son was the quarterback. Otto added that her son broke his jaw while playing. Their families were lifelong friends from school and after her husband and his wife died, they chose to marry.

Otto mentioned they were both planning to celebrate their 90th birthdays together. He laughed as he said, that is still a long way off.  A little over a year for him, and two for her.

Otto didn’t remember if he made a game last year, but he definitely wants to be present when Sealy plays Bellville.  I guess you could say that for a lifetime, both schools have considered the other their primary rival.

I’m glad I was at the game. I think it is improbable that many players have a great-grandfather present to see their games.  It made me feel good that my grandson has that show of support by his great-grandfather. 

All My Best!

Don

An Unexpected Surprise

It was an unexpected surprise. Actually, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I was elated!  It was approaching 7:00 p.m. and there was a flurry of activity taking place at the construction site (aka – our future home).

As we finished up dinner with friends at a restaurant in Austin, I asked if they had some extra time. I wanted to know if they would like to go by and look at the home we are having built. They had asked for a status update while we were in the car driving to the restaurant.

The past couple of weeks haven’t seen a lot of activity, but I’m learning that Rome wasn’t built in a day and there is still a supply chain issue of sorts. Who would have thought that you can get this but you can’t get that and you need both?

Two weeks ago, the board and batten siding was supposed to be put in place. Actually, the projected work schedule provided us at the beginning of that week listed both installing the siding and painting the siding. Most of our home is stone, but it is accented by the siding that guarantees the farmhouse look.  Would you believe the hold-up was metal strips that go between the sheets of hardiplank?  Nothing happened two weeks ago. For that matter, nothing was happening on Tuesday of this week when we were last at the home.

By happenstance, we did run into our builder.  He actually isn’t the job superintendent who is managing the construction, but he designed the house and has some level of oversight on the project.  He is not a disinterested party.

We mentioned to him that the masons who were stoning the house next door were doing an incredible job. Would they be the same people working on our house?  Probably was his answer, but he didn’t know what their work schedule looked like.

His not knowing their work schedule took the wind out of my sails. In my simplistic way of thinking, I just naturally assumed they would finish the house next door and begin working on ours. I guess you could say that my automatic default is magical thinking. In a perfect world – maybe, but ours is not a perfect world.

Actually, as we drove up to the house last night, the work crew was busily working. Stone masons had already made an appreciable difference. I could hardly believe my eyes. I breathed a sigh of relief. The stone we selected for the house was going to look incredible.

I was like a kid in a candy store.  A work crew had already installed board and batten on part of the house and they were busily working on installing more.

It was an unexpected surprise, but it was a perfect ending to what had been a most enjoyable evening.

All My Best!

Don

Cardinals

Our pastor recently mentioned that he likes to shop at Lowe’s grocery store in Johnson City. It is only a twelve-minute drive from his home, and once inside the store, there is more to choose from than groceries. Would you believe the grocery store is also the site of Ace Hardware? 

Though he didn’t say, another upside to shopping in Johnson City is that he can get to the store from his home without the bother of a traffic light.  In addition, nothing is more scenic than the Texas Hill Country. 

In addition, the setting provides a full array of choices.  Some would say it is an ideal setting for any man to shop. You can pick up a steak to grill and a full array of nuts and bolts.

Our pastor is a man with discriminating taste. He likes to purchase birdseed from Lowe’s. Reportedly, it contains less chaff than you can find elsewhere.  At the risk of being misunderstood, I guess I should clarify that our pastor doesn’t eat birdseed. Of course, he didn’t specifically say that, but it stands to reason that he would much prefer a steak.  Then again, that might be projection on my part.

As he was leaving the store, a man in the parking lot noticed he was carrying birdseed and thanked him for taking care of the birds. Actually, the man in the parking lot said, “May you be blessed for taking care of the birds.”

He thought to himself: the birds are the blessing. In sharing his story, he listed the types of birds that can easily be sighted around his home. From the birds that he identified, my favorite was the cardinal. I consider a cardinal to be a reminder of hopefulness.

A dear friend commissioned a stained glass window for installation in our fellowship hall at church in memory of her husband.  It was reminiscent of the light that filled his hospital room at the moment of his death. I was privileged to witness the light, and can attest to her memory. Of course, inclusion of the cardinal symbolizes eternal life.

I guess you could say that cardinals are associated with color and life. Our pastor and his wife operate an Airbnb and have a chalk board for guests to write down what they saw while they were there.  Interestingly, one guest noted a large number of red baby eagles.

Obviously the birds were cardinals, but the symbolism of an eagle also seems to fit. I found this associated to an eagle: “An eagle signifies inspiration, release from bondage, victory, longevity, speed, pride, father and royalty.”

All My Best!

Don

Laughter

I’m not sure where I heard it, but it is thought by some that a man shouldn’t laugh at his own jokes. I’m not sure I concur with that sentiment. Sometimes the things that come out of my mouth crack me up.  Last night, I thought to myself: “Now that is downright funny.”

The General invited Andrea and Kevin, our daughter and son-in-law, to stop by the house and look at the selections we’ve made for the new house.  Even I was impressed with her organizational skills and the care she has taken to have everything we’ve selected carefully identified.

When it comes to making selections, the General seems to know exactly what she wants or even perhaps what I want. When I first mentioned that we might want to change our minds regarding the color of trim for the inside of the house, she responded that I was overthinking it. I hate it when she takes that stance with me.  She said we should just go with the color we initially selected.

While in my “over-thinking” mode, I drove by the paint store to pick up different shades of gray. Since the fireplace will be the same rock on the outside of the house, I thought gray might be a better choice than the Morris Gray we previously selected.

There was a break in the rain yesterday afternoon, so we drove over to the construction site to put paint samples next to the rock.  It continues to be on crates strategically placed around the house.  Narrowing our selection down was difficult. None of the grays I selected for us to consider seemed to go well with the stone with the exception of the Morris gray we initially selected. It seemed to go well because it provided a contrast.

While we were there, the builder stopped by.  I asked his opinion.  He said of the Morris Gray paint color: “It is like a chameleon. Depending on what is in the room, it can appear brown or it can appear gray. Our builder builds a lot of craftsman homes and he favors that color.  We are fashioning the inside of our home as a craftsman, while the outside looks like a modern farmhouse. Since we like both, why not merge the two together?

Our builder (who is not the building superintendent) walked inside the house and the first thing he noticed was the wiring for one of the thermostats. It was visibly noticeable on the wall in the living area across from the front door.  The General had already called that to my attention. I responded that the electricians knew what they were doing, and it would be okay.

Obviously, the General and the builder are like-minded. The thermostat is now going to be relocated to a much less obvious location. So why didn’t I think of that?

Yesterday, some of the hardware for the kitchen cabinets arrived. The General has already ordered it. Like I said, “She knows what she wants and she doesn’t even look at the price when making a selection.”

I mentioned to the kids last night that the General is a lot like Lady Astor.    She was not intimidated by the likes of Winston Churchill.  Lady Astor once insulted Churchill by claiming: “If you were my husband, I’d poison your tea.” Without skipping a beat, Churchill reportedly replied: “Madam, if you were my wife, I’d drink it.”

The General and I are not always on the same page. You’d think we were building our last home with the care and precision with which she is making choices. She knows what she wants and if she wants it, she considers the decision made.

So last night, I told Andrea and Kevin, that the General is a lot like Lady Astor.  You can Astor anything and she has an answer. Now I’m afraid to drink any tea she might serve me.

All My Best!

Don

Real or Imagined

Is it just me, or do you sometimes have the same thought?  Of course, some may think my amygdala is sending a false distress signal. Whether it is real or imagined, it is of concern. Trust me on this. No one should go to the grocery store and have to sort out whether there is a real shortage    resulting in empty shelves or if the store simply hasn’t been restocked.

Any hint that food items could be in short supply activates the memory of the early days of the pandemic when lines of grocery shoppers circled the building and once inside the store, empty shelves seemed to be the name of the game.

Of course, the General may be partially to blame. We figuratively haven’t used tea bags to make tea since some time well before the beginning of WWII. People would think you were primitive if you actually had to boil water as part of the process of having iced tea. We only purchase ready-to-drink tea in plastic bottles. 

Okay, so the General makes the grocery list. If I brought home tea bags instead of a plastic bottle labeled Unsweet Tea, I’d be in trouble. At least 50% of the time, I don’t find unsweet tea at the grocery store. I could pick up a three-month supply of sweet tea, but unsweet tea obviously is in short supply.

I made a quick trip to the store last night to pick up a few things. Not everything on my very short list was available. For example, the General wanted 4  (2 quart) containers of tea. I knew when I left home that the chances were slim to none that the store would have four.  I was pleasantly surprised to find three.

However, I found myself in a long line at checkout since I had more than 15 items.  I counted them twice just to be sure I couldn’t use an express lane.

My amygdala may have sent another false signal when I saw the amount due on the cash register. It isn’t like I go to the grocery store only once a week. I go to the grocery store almost every day!   As my mother would say, “I’m telling you the God’s truth.”  Of course, is there any other kind of truth?

I  have the same thought every time I checkout at the grocery store. The cost of groceries has risen dramatically. I always spend at least $100 dollars and go home with the thought that we still don’t have anything to eat.

All My Best!

Don

Thoughts From The Early Morning

In the early morning hours, I thought about some of the people I’ve met and formed at least a surface friendship with across the past four decades. Many of those connections came my way simply because I was the pastor at Henly Baptist Church.

This morning I thought about a man who might have fallen into the category of a drifter. His name briefly surfaced in the periphery of my memory.  It was many years ago, but as I recall, he lived in a small older motor home that seemed no worse for wear. He located work for some time at the only gas station in town.

He was the kind of guy most comfortable cooking outside on a barbeque pit and spending recreational time throwing horseshoes or pitching washers with other folks. Of course, those activities would only appeal to him if he couldn’t be hunting or fishing. 

Don’t get me wrong. I put my britches on one leg at a time, and I’ve never lived in the fast lane. When it comes to recreational activities, there is something about tossing horseshoes and pitching washers that fall flat with how I want to spend my time.

But there are folks in the  Henly crowd that historically did both. From a practicality standpoint, I can assure you that no one I’ve ever known, regardless of how much they enjoyed tossing horseshoes or pitching washers, would have purchased those items from a specialty store.

On the outside chance that I’m wrong,  you can order four horseshoes and two metal posts from L.L. Bean for $129.00. You can also purchase four metal color-coated washers elsewhere for $22.99. Things like that don’t happen in Henly.

Shucks, any number of people probably had those items already on hand. For instance, my dad never threw a nut, bolt, or washer away. He tossed them in a metal bucket inside the garage for safekeeping. He operated on the notion that you never throw anything away that you might one day need. 

The same is true of horseshoes and washers. If you ever had them, you probably still have them. You certainly didn’t shop for them at a specialty store in a “ready-made kit” for use.

I don’t know where the guy whose name surfaced in my head this morning was from. I’m sure at one time, I knew the answer.  “Where are you from?” is the kind of logical question I’d ask any stranger or first time visitor who showed up at church.

My memory is a little foggy, but I think the man gained the church’s permission to park his small motor home on the other side of the well-house. That kept the RV was out of sight when you drove into the church’s parking lot. It was an ideal location for him. The man walked to work. He also had virtually no reason to miss church since he was on the premises.

I don’t remember where the man headed when he left Henly. What I do remember is the answer I received from one of his friends when I asked about his whereabouts years later.   Reportedly, it was believed that he somehow aligned himself with David Koresh and the Branch Dividians at the Mount Carmel Center ranch outside Waco.

I remember watching in horror the news report of what later came to be known as the Waco massacre. Reportedly, because it was suspected that the Branch Dividians were stockpiling illegal weapons, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms (ATF) obtained a search warrant for the compound and arrest warrants for Koresh, as well as a select few of the group’s members.

No one expected the seize that lasted 51 days or the gunfight that ensured when the Federal Bureau of Investigation launched an assault and initiated a tear gas attack in an attempt to force the Branch Dividians out of the ranch. 

There are mixed stories of how the fire that killed 76 Branch Davidians (including 25 children) actually started.  But news reels captured the flames, and I remember the sense of horror and sick sensation in the pit of my stomach as I sat spellbound in front of the television while I was home for lunch.

It is a sad memory.

All My Best!

Don