Time for Some Campaignin'

I thought this satire was brillant and rematkably true. Time the time to check it out.

this presidential campaign

Is anyone else unenthused about our presidential choices? Mc Cain is too liberal on many issues for me, immigration for one, and I fear he would only make the government larger in the name of fairness. I still have not forgiven the guy for his campaign finance reform travesty. Can you imagine having to listen to his "my friend" line for the next four years? Then we have Obama. Ugh. He proposes to raise our taxes to 20%. No thank you. He doesn't seem to have a realistic view of the economy and society. He'd run our country to hell in a hand bag, idealistically thinking he was making the world a better place all the while. So, between the two lack-luster candidates I would have to choose McCain, wishing that his V.P. was in his place.

first blood

Yeah, one might think that recording such a picture is lame, and it is, but fellow mountain biking weirdos will understand why recording the first bike inflicted wounds after my surgery is important. It somewhat symbolizes a passage through an unseen barrier back into the sport. One of my great passions in life is mountain biking. It is a sport that truly fits my personality. It is wonderful to be outdoors and enjoy the beauty of God's creations. When I am alone on a mountain overlooking everything that He created I feel closer to Him. I am a person somewhat partial to higher elevations and mountain biking gets me there. Biking across the tops of mountain ranges fills a part of my soul that otherwise would be left empty. Let's face it, I also love the dirt, the sweat, the challenge of an obstacle, or the grind up a huge hill that makes me want to hurl.

The road back to mountain biking has been a lot longer than what I and the doctors expected. Aside from dealing with the physical challenges I find the mental challenges the toughest. One being that I find myself more protective of my body after that fall. That is why getting over the first wreck is important. To help push myself more, as in tough climbs, I imagine Jeff Diehl aside me saying, "Do you know your going 3.5 mph? You really should be at 10 mph. Come on! Push it harder!" Grr! He always had a way to get me riled. Or I might imagine Mark Bolton come up from behind. "I can't left Bolton pass!" These guys along with Mark Anderson, Mike Perdue and Rich Eddy were in a riding group that I tagged along with in Colorado. I miss having such a good group of friends to ride with. I am riding with some guys from the local bike shop now, but who can compare the guys that introduced me to Nutrolls as trail food, the fact that having your camera on the trial is almost as important as a spare tube, (well that is an exaggeration), and "The Cowboy Song" by Thin Lizzy? Love the rocky trails in CO for me guys.

homeschool drudgery

I am using Homeschool Tracker to try to be more organized this year. Time will tell if the two us us will get along. I down loaded it free from www.homeschooltracker.com

little reminders that I'm living the good life

Like many of you I struggle to keep an orderly house. There is always was one mess after another, and I only have two children to follow. Each child has their own cleaning responsibilities and our system works fairly well. Yet I still get frustrated returning to a room that was just cleaned to find it strewn with toys. "Another mess to clean," I think to myself. One day I started to look closely as the mess that I thought was haphazardly placed through out the room. It was a battle scene, one of Zayne's many. The apparent thought that was taken to create each little scenario within the battle impressed me. I didn't see a mess after that but the evidences of a young boy with a lively imagination. I do not want him loose that imagination and wonder as he grows older. I now let him keep his little, creative messes out for longer periods and relish in the imagination and the focus it takes to construct such wonderlands. I have even started to photograph his creations so they are easier for us both to see taken apart.

Another time I was in the kitchen after the evening straightening routine and the children were in bed. Relaxing and pulling Dan in for an embrace I noticed a flaw in the my orderly room. A khaki colored army man was hiding out in one of my plants with his gun aimed toward us. I pushed aside my initial annoyment, laughed, and became grateful for the reminder of the playful little boy tucked up in bed. So now whenever I can sense aggravation for things left about the house I remind myself that I am blessed. I am blessed to have a little girl that played with that doll on the couch. I am blessed that she still wants to play with all those stuffed animals on her floor too. The balls in the yard remind me that my children are healthy enough to play. The book left in the tree tells me that my children love to read. The dirt by the door left by little feet makes me grateful that those little feet enjoy the outdoors. The stuffed duck wrapped in the newspaper, plastic bag, tucked in on the shoe shelf tells me that I am blessed because. . . it shows their creativity? (I wonder what was going through their minds on that one)? I often tell myself, "Having these blessed, messy reminders is easier to live with then without." Then I can holler in my best June Cleaver voice, "Joshi, Zayne. Please come pick up your stuff." I wait. "One . . . Two. . ."