THINGS I THOUGHT TODAY BUT DIDN'T SHARE WITH ANYONE (until now)

1. If my feet are cold I'm cold. If my feet are warm I'm warm. I have found that feet are the key to the body's temperature control. If I'm lying in bed and it's a little too hot under the covers I just slip my feet out for some fresh air and- WHAMMO- instant relief. Conversely, if it's cold in the room I just need to get my feet warmed up and my entire self feels warmed.

2. I would guess that when I answer the phone at work and identify myself, "Good morning, Camp Maranatha, this is Josh," roughly half of the callers hear me say "Jeff" when I say "Josh." I must be saying it wrong to have such a large number of people hear me wrong. You would think after nearly 35 years as a Josh I would have become more practiced at saying my name, but apparently I am really bad at it.

3. Why are hospitals so uncomfortable? I have never encountered a chair or bed or any other piece of furniture in a hospital and thought to myself, "I've got to get one of these for my house." An airport terminal is more comfortable! Hospitals should be comfortable, right? I mean...you go there because you're in a state of discomfort and looking for relief. If I'm elected president I will make hospitals more comfortable.

SARAH MAKING THE MOST OF HER PHOTO OP WITH TEGAN AND SARA.

Sarah's a winner! Quite literally she is, she won tickets recently (from 98.7) to an ugly sweater party and private performance by one of her favorite bands, Tegan and Sara, to be performed in the penthouse of the historic Hollywood towers. Following the performance, which, according to Sarah, was amazing, they allowed for photo ops with the band, which were subsequently posted to 98.7's website. I scrolled through all of the photos which were a series of boring pictures, the sort that only people who are actually in the photo would give a rip about, before coming to Sarah's photo. Clearly she made the most of her photo op. That's my Sarah. She's a winner!

She said to Tegan, "I'm going to do reindeer antlers!"

And Tegan said, "Like this?"

MOOSE LEG DREAMS #2

It has been several years since my last "Moose Leg Dream," which along with "The Cover Dreams" are the only dream series that I have experienced in my life. I call them series because the dreams that fall under these headings share some similarities (see links above if you want to psychoanalyze me) and also because they are similar in feel. In my mind these dreams are clearly related, and since my mind produced them then related they must be. Although I do appreciate the ways that God has used dreams in the Bible I am not one to attribute much significance or hidden meaning to my dreams. If they were vital communiques from God then I think He would have made that abundantly obvious. God is a good communicator. I think these dreams speak more to the restless nature of the human brain. The mind never stops. In this, brains are much like sharks. If they stop moving they die. Although I'm not the sort to talk about dreams much I have posted about them quite a bit. Remember the one when I had an affair with Britney Spears? Or the the time I was pulled down and eaten by lions? Or my attempt at disecting the anatomy of a dream?  Or my artistic rendering of the sorts of dreams I get when I have a fever? (Fever dreams are the worst.)

Several nights ago I woke up with a start at 4:23am- seven minutes before the alarm. My eyes had flown open like shutters and reality poured in through my window-eyes. I hate it when wakefulness interrupts a good dream. It feels exactly like when you get to the end of a really good book, and you just want it to go on and on and on. I wanted to return to my dream, but no dice. The shutters had been opened. Reality had poured in. There was no going back.

In my dream I was Moose Leg again. I was walking on a path through the pre-dawn, snowey woods. As in other Moose Leg Dreams I was filled with an amazing vitality, a euphoric joy and bridled energy. This energy didn't just make walking easier, it actually made it necessary. It was like my entire frame was under pressure, and if I hadn't given the energy release by chanelling it into walking it would have caused me to explode. As I walked, obstacles kept presenting themselves. Fallen trees, dense undergrowth, and rocks appeared as impassable barriers in the path ahead, but just as I would draw near to the obstacle a way would present itself to continue on without slowing down. As the sun came up I emerged from the woods into a broad valley. In the distance, a small town (like one you might see on a Christmas card) sat at the trail's end. It was early enough that the town was still asleep, but as I walked down the trail I was confident of a warm reception. It was like I had been long absent from people who loved me a lot, and my arrival would be like a soldier's homecoming on Christmas morning. Even though the town was in sight I couldn't wait to get there! I was excited!

Then I woke up.

I wanted to return to my dream, but no dice. The shutters had been opened. Reality had poured in. There was no going back.

A HAPPY DAY CAROL!

GHOSTS OF HAPPY DAY'S PAST

Earlier today I was taking a Happy Day Eve nap when I woke unexpectedly to the sound of clanking chains and horrible wailing. Terrified, I peaked out from underneath the covers and saw Jim Zorn and Jason Campbell shuffling into my room. They beckoned me to join them on a gurney, which magically elevated and flew out the window and back into the mists of time. With them as my guide we revisited all the Happy Days that have come before. It was horrible. After revisiting the Redskins' catastrophic loss to the Eagles in 2009 I collapsed sobbing onto my knees in front of Jason Campbell. I grabbed big handfuls of his jersey and as tears ran down into my beard I begged him to stop. Then all of a sudden, POOF, they were gone and I was left alone sobbing on my knees in front of the television.

The television!

I gazed in wonder at a message that Zorn had left for me, written with his finger in the dust on the television screen- "Redskins beat Giants, 23-17!"

From my house to yours, have a wonderful and victorious Happy Day!!!

Dear President Obama,

Can something be done for February? It's clearly the runt of the monthly litter, and a sad, depressing little corner of the calendar as well. I propose giving it thirty days like other months. Take a day from January and another from March and give them to February. If any man possesses the necessary authority to rearrange the months it is you, Mr. President. March in particular has needed a good trimming for the longest time. Who wants an extra day of March? Not I. What I want, no, what I demand is two more days of February.

In fact, I think it would make the most sense, and I'm sure you will agree with me Mr. President, that only the finest months should be given an extra 31st day. I propose that you take May's 31st day and give it to June. That way all three summer months would have 31 days. October and December can keep their 31st day because of their inherent and obvious awesomeness.

And during a leap year we can still add a day onto February, which would go a long way towards making up for the years of abuse it has endured. Call it reparations if you wish.

As a well known champion of the little guy I am confident that you will take up February's cause. I thank you in advance for your support in this worthy effort.

Sincerely,

 

Marlene Rini 

THOUGHTS I HAD BUT DIDN'T SHARE WITH ANYONE (until now)

1. I don't trust the public enough to ever, under any circumstances, use the word niggardly for fear that they would mistakenly think I was being racist. Using big words is kind of pretentious and off-putting anyway- stingy will do just fine.

3. If I'm ever mistaken for someone famous by a fan who wants an autograph I'll just give it to him. I think that's what famous people would want.

4. Why is ninety percent of nature programming committed to sharks, crocodiles and snakes? They are not interesting animals.

5. Trying to be nice when you are breaking up with someone is like trying to throw a grenade softly.

6. When Sarah eventually goes through menopause I plan on telling her, "You don't have hot flashes. You are hot consistently." I'll just file that away for now, but someday, when Sarah is going through menopause, I'll bust it out, and she'll be all  like, "Josh, God made you from sweetness concentrate and forgot to add any water."

Tate, out!

HAPPY DAY!

 With Thanksgiving in the rear view mirror most Americans have now turned the corner and have focused their festive attention on the biggest holiday of the year, Christmas. However, for a few of the faithful there remains one more holiday to observe before they can give themselves over fully to the Christmas season.

 

Happy Day is upon us!

 

Celebrated annually on the occasion of the first nationally televised Redskins game, this year's Happy Day has been scheduled for Monday, December 3rd when the Redskins host the New York Giants under the lights. Of course, the game against the Cowboys this past Thursday was likewise nationally televised, but that was Thanksgiving Day. Consequently, the third of December shall be observed as Happy Day throughout the Bummer-Free Zone. 

The Western Tates will probably spend Happy Day morning going to get a Christmas tree, and then rush home to make a traditional Happy Day meal with all of the fixins'. Then, of course, we'll watch our favorite team lose in a disappointingly unspirited contest. It's tradition! I can't wait to hear Troy Aikman and Pam Oliver talk about how well the Giants played. Of course, no Happy Day would be complete without Rotel.  Rotel tastes like crying.

Happy Day!
 

FOOTBALL ASSOCIATIONS

John Madden's voice makes me hungry. It's pavlovian! I hear Madden start to talk and I instantly start salivating and looking for the chips and dip. Football holds numerous such associations for me. Over the span of numerous seasons as a Redskins fan, which can only be described as frustratingly disappointing, I have come to harbor some ill-will toward a number of personalities on the NFL Network and ESPN. I also hate the football robot that dances and stretches before and after commercial breaks on Fox. If you didn't know, its name is "Cleatus." I have seen him dance his way through so many Redskin losses that I now feel as though he is taunting me with his automoton gyrations. Oh, he knows what he's doing! I simply cannot abide Troy Aikman as a color commentator either. Strangely, I feel some warmth towards Chris Berman of ESPN and also Steve Mariucci (Sp?) even though they have also been given the difficult job of delivering bad news to me over the years. They do so with sensitivity and class. In truth, I hope for a redskin win this weekend more than a fantasy win. That's why I load my fantasy fotoball team up with Redskins. That way I can root for them with a whole heart. Last weekend I played DeSean Jackson of the Philadelphia, Eagles on my fantasy squad despite the fact that he was playing against the Skins. I felt conflicted about it, but I decided that if the Redskins lost I might as well be consoled by the fantasy results, but still it felt weird and wrong to root for Jackson and the Redskins at the same time. (Jackson got a whopping 0 points by the way on 2 receptions for a total of 5 yards.) You cannot serve God and mammon both. This week I am glad that I have no Cowboys on my roster. I'll be rooting for the Skins with a whole heart tomorrow.

TENTS

For previous tent-related posts go HERE AND HERE.

Check out this beauty of a tent. A few months ago Sarah was loading the kids into the ol' family truckster when she spied this tent on the other side of the chain link fence that separates our home from the San Jacinto State Park. She alerted me to its presence saying, "You have to come see this tent in the State Park. It has a ladder and a second floor."

It did indeed have a ladder inside, which led up to a cozy second floor. The second floor was cleverly designed to rest across the top of a parked vehicle.

The man on the left (holding the coffee mug) was the tent's owner. He graciously permitted me to tour and photograph his tent. The man on the right, a friend of the owner, asked him how much the tent cost and the man shrugged nonchalantly before responding "It was either $1,200.00 or $3,000.00. I can't remember," which told me something about his socioeconomic status. I guaranty you I would have remembered the cost of the tent to the penny if it had cost me that much.

This is the upper floor of the tent which the man was intending to share with his wife that night. Their two young daughters had arranged their sleeping bags downstairs, or should I say downladder (downrungs?). As I took my leave, I asked jokingly "Where does the butler stay?," and the man quick-wittedly turned to his friend and said "I'm not sure. Ron, where are you staying?"

OVERHEARD

"Hey! You get over here so I can give you some loving!"
Loud, elderly female to a male of like age who she happened upon in the produce aisle of Fairway Market. The man jumped in genuine surprise at her unnaturally loud and agressively affectionate greeting and then began to shuffle away at top speed in mock horror. The woman ran him down and they embraced next to the cheeses. Fairway Market- Idyllwild, CA

PRODUCT IDEA

I believe there is a pile of money to be made if someone would design a bicycle helmet that would protect the neck of a bicyclist who is riding in Mountain Lion country. A bike zipping past a mountain lion is like rolling a ball of yarn in front of cat, but with a top speed of 45 miles per hour, and up to 200 lbs of muscle, teeth and claws this cat plays for keeps. I first got the idea when Sarah and I were watching a TV special about mountain lion attacks. One man on Vancouver Island in Canada was riding home on his bike at night when he was savagely attacked. The only thing that saved his life was that he had a rolled up yoga mat sticking out of the top of his backpack. Mountain lions attack from behind and strategically target the neck. The mountain lion buried its teeth into the yoga mat thinking it was the bicyclist's neck. The man emerged relatively unscathed although his yoga mat and backpack were shredded. The yoga mat bought him the time he needed to give him a fighting chance.

Ask anyone who rides in Mountain Lion country who is aware of the risks, and they will tell you that sometimes they worry about being attacked. If such an attack comes it will come with little or no warning, and if a mountain lion does attack a bicyclist chances are its gonna go for the back of the neck. If someone designs a helmet that protects the back of the neck I have no doubt that there is money to be made in such a venture.

The only problemn is I am principally an idea guy, and I need some capable folks to come alongside of me to help me realize my vision for such a helmet.

(Here the mountain lion range in California is depicted as a slice of bacon.)

DEODORANT STICKS LOOK LIKE SPACESHIPS

OVERHEARD

"I'm not sure I want to go in there if you're gonna be like that!"

Middle-aged woman following a second woman of like age as they were walking into the library. The New Public Library- Idyllwild, CA

"I'm not going to make a fuss or anything. It's not going to be like that."

The aforementioned second woman

TRANSIENCE

The drizzle and mist of the evening before had hardened overnight into a fragile sheath of ice over every twig, every blade of grass, and the rotting pumpkin in the garden. And when the sunshine flowed over the hills east of the house, flooding the valley with warmth and radiance, the world stood transformed.  In that fragile time, when sun and ice coexisted, there was a dazzling brilliance that hung about everything. It was captivating in its transience and fragility, arresting in its beauty. The mind marveled at the great thoroughess with which the ice etched even the smallest details of creation. From the window above the kitchen sink I gazed appreciatively on the crystal trees which stood in ranks, climbing the hills to welcome the rising sun. I stepped outside and my breath curled away from my mouth. The silver field also seemed to breathe as the sun made it steam. Before my eyes wispy tendrils of vapor rose above the hip-high grass and gathered in the low places, as the sun transformed the silver field into its own golden likeness.