Cars

Here in my car, I feel safest of all . . . however the song goes. Here’s Addison checking out the city art exhibit in St. Joseph, Michigan. Just click on the picture to see the whole gallery. Or don’t. If you don’t want to see it, I don’t know what you’re doing here. I have nothing important to say. At least, I’m not telling until you look at the pictures.

Cars

Coke Addict

My name is Adam, and I am a Coke-aholic. It’s been two weeks since my last drink.
Actually, it’s been a bit over two weeks, but it’s been two weeks since I’ve had a carbonated beverage of any kind. I didn’t plan on quitting. I didn’t really think I needed to quit. But we ran out of Coke, and I just decided to stop drinking it.
If you know me like the carbonated beverage industry knows me, this might shock you. I used to go through 4-6 cans a day, easy. If I really went on a binge, or if there was a two-liter around, I could pretty much drink however much Coke there was available. Waitresses, I think, didn’t like me too much on account of the double digit refills I would usually require. Then a while back I tried to cut the high fructose corn syrup consumption down and managed to limit myself to one or two cans a day. But I still had my weak moments. But I would never go a day without a Coke . . . until now.
I guess it’s good for me that I’ve stopped. I mean, I know it is. I don’t really miss it that much, to be honest. If anything, I’m surprised. I thought that whole “I could quit anytime if I wanted to” line was a big load of hoo-ha, but it turned out to be true. I’m not shaking. I’m not hallucinating (at least, my new friend Jacque the Purple Monkey says I’m not). And I don’t plan to drink Coke ever again. I think it just might be one genuine, honest-to-goodness change.
Weird. I thought there would be electric shock therapy for that kind of thing to take place.
Anyway, here’s my challenge to you, whoever you are. Give up something. Just do it. Or just don’t do it. Whatever the case may be (24-pack or fridge case 12-pack).

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Tunnel Vision

Sometimes, it helps to have tunnel vision. If every speck in existence understood its place in the universe, there’d be an awful lot of unhappy specks, don’t you think? But the speck has nothing to be ashamed of. Specks didn’t make themselves small and grainy and insignificant. They can’t help it. They’re specks.

And the view for this particular speck ain’t so bad. Tonight it was fresh green beans, new potatoes, baked chicken, and strawberry cobbler. It was amazing . . . not because it tasted good. I mean, it was absolutely delicious. Best meal I’ve had in I don’t know when. But other people, other specks, could have had the same thing just about anywhere else in the universe.

But nobody could have had the meal I had, because only I had the one made by my wife out of love that I know I didn’t earn. The same love that brought us one kid that is just like me–picky, delightfully oblivious,imaginative, a tad unappreciative, and who would rather be doing his own thing than following directions from anyone–and another kid who at the moment has no choice but to digest whatever Mommy eats.

There are, elsewhere in the universe, other things to consider . . . other very important issues to consider and dream about. But in that moment at the dinner table, and at this moment remembering it, there was nothing else I cared about. Not my future plans. Not my job. Not my spiritual condition. Not Darfur. And certainly not my place in the universe. At that moment, I really liked my place at the dinner table, and the place I know I hold in my wife’s heart.

Life is full of these moments when you realize you are loved; by God, by your family, by your friends, and even a little bit by the guy at Starbucks who knows you’ll be back tomorrow. And you know that when you love someone else enough to make them the center of your universe for just one moment, you’ll be making them feel just a little less speckish.

There’s more to life than just this little tunnel, and I’ll venture out of it to try and take on some of the things that need to be addressed. But for right now, the blinders stay on. I’m going to treasure this moment, this tunnel, that has in it everything I ever could have asked for.

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Here’s a Little Story About Grandmas and Grandpas

. . . and when the Grandpas and the Grandmas are all reading after eating and the grandson’s looking handsome on a cushion while he’s pushin’ to stay up a little later reading books about Darth Tater . . . they call that a Grandma Grandpa reader eater pushin’ cushion Sunday fun day treatsa pizza rumble tumble after laughter goodnight sleep tight Fox in Socks, sir.

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