Holy Cow my desk is messy!!!! Not to mention my car or that corner of the bedroom my wife allows me to occupy and lets leave the checkbook and finances out of this. ITS ALL A MESS - A FILTHY MESS! The Story of my life!
I am a part of a men's group and we are in the process of life mapping - looking back at your life and recording the key relationships and events that have brought you to were you are today. A very big part of this process is recognizing themes and trends in your life. In my quest to life map it has become apparent that a constant theme in my life is a lack of discipline - wether it be internal or external. I used to rebel against anything or anyone that sought to discipline me or hold me accountable - NOW I CRAVE IT!
It is crazy how I could live over half of my life demanding to steer my ship and balking at any form of direction and today I stand ready and willing to hand over the reigns of my life to Christ. I have handed them over and in the same breath taken them back. I have given it all to Him in complete surrender only to bargain for some of it back. "Here, God, you take this and I will keep this." I think I am starting to get what Paul called a "daily dying unto self."
So, that being said, just for today, I am giving ALL (the good and the bad) of my life over to Christ and I will let tommorrow take care of tommorrow. Today, I will follow Him in hopes that he will find some use for me in His ever expanding kingdom and maybe somewhere down the line He will help me clean up MY MESS!
Monday, December 10, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
The GENETICS of GERIATRICS!!!!!
My offices are located in a Medical Mall. The building houses all manner of medical specialists, service providers and retail stores; it also doubles as an indoor walking track for every s.o.b. over 65 in the Monroe/West Monroe metropolitan area. I generally park in rear of the building and enter through a employee entrance by the mall offices, thereby having to cross the continuous oncoming traffic of elderly mall walkers to get across the hall to my office.
Each day I begin my mornings with a dance reminiscent to the classic ATARI game FROGGER (you recall it I trust). I open the door stepping into the main hallway of the Medical Mall and immediately begin to hop forward, backward, and side to side trying to avoid a collision with one of the geriatric patrons. The logical mind would assume these "old timers" would slow their pace to allow me to cross their stream, but NAY, NAY, I SAY UNTO YOU! Many a time I have been blindsided by unapologetic mall walkers. They slam into you, refuse to excuse themselves, and immediately fall back into pace with the other walkers, occasionally muttering curse words along their way. THEY ARE OBSESSED WITH WALKING THE MALL!!!!
Occasionally, the Hospital who owns the mall will rope off sections of the hallway for special events, thus altering the "Gray Panthers" traditional walking path and creating a frenzy among the regulars. This happens frequently and it tickles me to watch the covert struggle that ensues. Many of the walkers accept the change after only a few choice words given and resume walking the altered course, but others remain defiant! There is always a handful who feel they own the place and that because they spend more time at the Mall than they do at home or at the local senior center the powers that be should have asked their opinion before altering the norm.
This small but vocal band of aged rebels begin to gather at the ropes of demarcation laid by their oppressors. It is here, at the ropes, that they begin to discuss the situation, verbalize their descent, and organize their response. Eaves droppers will hear: "I can remember when they used to," or "How many times do I have," or my personal favorite and most often repeated "Dem Sons a bitches!" One or two will brave through the barrier where they meet the rebuke of some Mall official and are returned to the altered walking path. Eventually they disband; some are disgusted, some are injured, all are angered, but NONE ARE DEFEATED! They live to walk another day!!!!!
For all their surly looks and poor dispositions, I do enjoy watching them and would miss the old farts if they were gone.
Until next time..............
Each day I begin my mornings with a dance reminiscent to the classic ATARI game FROGGER (you recall it I trust). I open the door stepping into the main hallway of the Medical Mall and immediately begin to hop forward, backward, and side to side trying to avoid a collision with one of the geriatric patrons. The logical mind would assume these "old timers" would slow their pace to allow me to cross their stream, but NAY, NAY, I SAY UNTO YOU! Many a time I have been blindsided by unapologetic mall walkers. They slam into you, refuse to excuse themselves, and immediately fall back into pace with the other walkers, occasionally muttering curse words along their way. THEY ARE OBSESSED WITH WALKING THE MALL!!!!
Occasionally, the Hospital who owns the mall will rope off sections of the hallway for special events, thus altering the "Gray Panthers" traditional walking path and creating a frenzy among the regulars. This happens frequently and it tickles me to watch the covert struggle that ensues. Many of the walkers accept the change after only a few choice words given and resume walking the altered course, but others remain defiant! There is always a handful who feel they own the place and that because they spend more time at the Mall than they do at home or at the local senior center the powers that be should have asked their opinion before altering the norm.
This small but vocal band of aged rebels begin to gather at the ropes of demarcation laid by their oppressors. It is here, at the ropes, that they begin to discuss the situation, verbalize their descent, and organize their response. Eaves droppers will hear: "I can remember when they used to," or "How many times do I have," or my personal favorite and most often repeated "Dem Sons a bitches!" One or two will brave through the barrier where they meet the rebuke of some Mall official and are returned to the altered walking path. Eventually they disband; some are disgusted, some are injured, all are angered, but NONE ARE DEFEATED! They live to walk another day!!!!!
For all their surly looks and poor dispositions, I do enjoy watching them and would miss the old farts if they were gone.
Until next time..............
Friday, November 30, 2007
A POST APOCOLYPTIC CHRISTMAS
With the holiday season comes the holiday big budget movie releases and I quite frankly am not impressed of late. What is out there this year? Fred Clause, Enchanted, Mr. Craps' Crapstore! I mean, PLEASE! The only thing that has sparked my interest is the Coen bros film "No Country for Old Men," and I can't find it in the Greater Ruston area. And, btw, have you ever noticed how they keep recycling the same movies. C'mon people! Have an original thought now and again. Some of the stuff "they" choose to re-make was CRAP in its origins and remaking it is like spray painting a vacuum cleaner and calling it something else - AT THE END OF THE DAY IT STILL SUCKS!!!!!!
Now the reader might lament, "Oh, look at Caleb! He is at it again. Pointing out the problem, never mind a solution!" Well, I admit I do not have a cure all solution to this problem, but I do have an original MOVIE idea. Someone should make a movie about what a post apocolyptic Christmas would look like.
The plot could center around SANTA seven years into the aftermath of a New Years Eve NUCLEAR HOLOCOST! No longer is SANTA fat and happy. NO! SANTA IS A LEAN MEAN ELF KILLING MACHINE! Thats right, immediately following the 3rd world war, when everything was turned upside down, a power struggle began between Humans and Elves the struggle multiplied until a full scale war erupted. The Elves with there crafty carpentering skills built a WAR MACHINE of wooden tanks and assault rifles and drove Santa and his followers out of the northpole. Santa retreated with his band of reindeer to the foothills of Tennessee where he lived in anonimity and silence patiently awaiting a new hope! That new hope arises out of the birth of RUDOLPH the RED NOSED REINDEER! I could go on for hours but I will stop there..... Now that would be a movie!
Anyway, let me know if you see anything good this season!
Now the reader might lament, "Oh, look at Caleb! He is at it again. Pointing out the problem, never mind a solution!" Well, I admit I do not have a cure all solution to this problem, but I do have an original MOVIE idea. Someone should make a movie about what a post apocolyptic Christmas would look like.
The plot could center around SANTA seven years into the aftermath of a New Years Eve NUCLEAR HOLOCOST! No longer is SANTA fat and happy. NO! SANTA IS A LEAN MEAN ELF KILLING MACHINE! Thats right, immediately following the 3rd world war, when everything was turned upside down, a power struggle began between Humans and Elves the struggle multiplied until a full scale war erupted. The Elves with there crafty carpentering skills built a WAR MACHINE of wooden tanks and assault rifles and drove Santa and his followers out of the northpole. Santa retreated with his band of reindeer to the foothills of Tennessee where he lived in anonimity and silence patiently awaiting a new hope! That new hope arises out of the birth of RUDOLPH the RED NOSED REINDEER! I could go on for hours but I will stop there..... Now that would be a movie!
Anyway, let me know if you see anything good this season!
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Real Tree? or not to Real Tree? Isn't that the Question?
The Airport and Shongaloo
As Christmas rapidly approaches, the writer is overcome with a sense of pseudo urgency to complete the task at hand; that task being the purchase of the Seney Family Christmas Tree. Ergo entrance into the age old debate: "Real Tree vs. Fake Tree".
Excuse the writer as I wax nostalgic, but all this talk of Christmas brings back thoughts of yester-year and holidays gone bye. I remember Grandmother Seney's tree was WHITE and Mamaw Smith's tree was SILVER; and how neither could have been more than 4ft in height. These two exciting and odd trees strike me as bold and beautiful statement of the character and personality of the respective matriarchs, but to the average onlooker adjectives of gaudy and tacky could ring true, never the less I fondly recall them and more importantly the women behind them.
Grandmother Seney's white tree, as I recall, was ALWAYS adourned with red glass balls and red garland. Year after year it was the same tree and same decorations, as with everything with Grandmother; if nothing else it was consistent. Every Sunday we ate at Grandmother's and the menu never varied; POTROAST!!! Everything was consistant, from the TV tray at her end of the couch, the toys in the cabinet, to the spearmint gum and coloring books she kept stashed in her Pepto colored bedroom. With Grandmother you could expect NO surprises, and to be honest none were permitted. Grandmothers tree always appeared frail and delicate, as if it where adourned with a "Do Not Touch" sign (which I am sure she contemplated doing). That is how I remember her and that is how I remember her tree. Grandmother was an institution and I miss those Sundays.
For some reason I can not recall how Mamaw Smith's silver tree was dressed. Maybe it was a lack of decor, or it could be the shear overpowering presence of the tin foil tree beneath the decor that hinders my recollection. Either way that tree was a pure reflection of its owner. Mamaws tree was functional! Once assembled, one knew exactly where it stood. It was sturdy and strong, giving an impression of age without showing the slightest bit of wear or tear. Standing in its presence one was filled with appretiation for its functionality, durability, and longevity; but overcome by its beauty. There was nothing flashy about Mamaw's tree and it fit her perfectly.
Both women were called home to be with Lord and husband before I was a teen, and I miss there trees.
As Christmas rapidly approaches, the writer is overcome with a sense of pseudo urgency to complete the task at hand; that task being the purchase of the Seney Family Christmas Tree. Ergo entrance into the age old debate: "Real Tree vs. Fake Tree".
Excuse the writer as I wax nostalgic, but all this talk of Christmas brings back thoughts of yester-year and holidays gone bye. I remember Grandmother Seney's tree was WHITE and Mamaw Smith's tree was SILVER; and how neither could have been more than 4ft in height. These two exciting and odd trees strike me as bold and beautiful statement of the character and personality of the respective matriarchs, but to the average onlooker adjectives of gaudy and tacky could ring true, never the less I fondly recall them and more importantly the women behind them.
Grandmother Seney's white tree, as I recall, was ALWAYS adourned with red glass balls and red garland. Year after year it was the same tree and same decorations, as with everything with Grandmother; if nothing else it was consistent. Every Sunday we ate at Grandmother's and the menu never varied; POTROAST!!! Everything was consistant, from the TV tray at her end of the couch, the toys in the cabinet, to the spearmint gum and coloring books she kept stashed in her Pepto colored bedroom. With Grandmother you could expect NO surprises, and to be honest none were permitted. Grandmothers tree always appeared frail and delicate, as if it where adourned with a "Do Not Touch" sign (which I am sure she contemplated doing). That is how I remember her and that is how I remember her tree. Grandmother was an institution and I miss those Sundays.
For some reason I can not recall how Mamaw Smith's silver tree was dressed. Maybe it was a lack of decor, or it could be the shear overpowering presence of the tin foil tree beneath the decor that hinders my recollection. Either way that tree was a pure reflection of its owner. Mamaws tree was functional! Once assembled, one knew exactly where it stood. It was sturdy and strong, giving an impression of age without showing the slightest bit of wear or tear. Standing in its presence one was filled with appretiation for its functionality, durability, and longevity; but overcome by its beauty. There was nothing flashy about Mamaw's tree and it fit her perfectly.
Both women were called home to be with Lord and husband before I was a teen, and I miss there trees.
Friday, November 16, 2007
A much anticipated ONLINE return!!!!
My mom has been riding my back for nearly 2 years for a return edition of the infamous, overread and underappreciated "SENEY REPORT." Well, yea and verily I say unto thee, thine request has been granted. The following is a bit dated, yet previously unreleased.
In December of 2006 this reporter had the opportunity to sit down and visit with the matriarch of the Clan of Seney. In that interview using subtle tactics and coercive suggestions I was able to extract many exciting ongoings in the family Seney. Janice, ever the proud grandmother, was bragging about her talented grandchildren when the writers ears perked up. Janice happened to be bragging about young Tracy and Tyler Camps' lyrical geneous in regards to musical composition. I had to know more, so I followed that rabbit hole to its end and the reader, I thinik, will enjoy the fruits of my labor.........
LIFE STYLES OF THE RICH & FAMOUS –An interview with the hit duo Double T
Arts & Entertainment.
TSR entertainment insiders have the latest scoop on the up and coming careers of the sibling singing sensations Tracy and Tyler Camp. As many of you know Tracy and Tyler, aka Double T have already been labeled the next Donnie and Marie Osmond. Our TSR insider recently sat down with the pop hit duo;
TSR: What’s it like to be you?
Tyler: It’s gravy! All gravy!
Tracy: It’s a lot like being, you know, like worshipped. I mean, like, I can’t even go to the Bootery without, like, being mobbed. We have to like rent the Master Chef just to, like, go eat out and stuff.
Tyler: Yeah, we the modern day Mary-Kate & Ashley. You know Dawg? Except our names ain’t Mary-Kate and Ashley and yo, we ain’t twins.
TSR: Musically, who influenced you the most?
Tyler: I ain’t gonna sit right here and lie to you, money. I learnt to lace the track and lock the flow from Barney. Yo, Barney one dope Dino, Dawg!
TSR: Has fame and fortune changed you?
Tracy: No, like, I am not that shallow. Like, I still have my original nose and I haven’t like had much work done, so, like, I would say that I am, like, the same person just, like, filthy rich and famous, and, like, above the law and all.
Tyler: I’m still the same old “G” I used to be, Dawg. But, yo, check this out, it done mixed my Pops and all. Yeah, Pops used to be all country. He got his hands on some cabbage and went off the chain! He done tricked out the fire truck with some phat 64 inch spinners and a mad sound system. He dropped it and chopped it and done went hydro on that mofo. Pops be bounc’n. And yo, you gots to check out his grill. Yo, Pops get up in here and show dis reporter yo grill man.
At this point in the interview David Camp, father of the hit duo enters the room wearing an ankle length, red silk lined, white fur coat. David is also wearing a large brim gold hat complete with a zebra striped hat band with a 4 ft. long peacock feather flowing forth. David is a professional fire fighter and longtime fire chief of the Springhill Fire Department, but in his spare time he enjoys being a Pimp.
TSR: Please join us Mr. Camp.
David: Call me Chizzle Dizzle (Chief David) cause I’m the Fizzle Chizzle of Springhizzle (Fire Chief of Springhill).
Tyler: Yo, Pops, show’em yo grizzle (grill).
Mr. Camp smiles revealing his diamond studded platinum capped teeth.
TSR: Mr. Camp how….
David: Chizzle Dizzle, please.
TSR: OK, Chizzle Dizzle, how has the success of Double T changed you?
Chizzle Dizzle: I’m just keep’n it real, yo. Show yaw how we does it between Machen Drive and Spring Branch Road, dawg. I mean I is what I is and I do what I do.
Chizzle Dizzle then began to speak “izzles” and “yo’s” so frequently that it became incoherent and the writer ended dictation.
Before going to press, TSR checked in with the Duo for an update. Tracy and Tyler are still struggling with youth and fame. Their Father David (Chizzle Dizzle) has meanwhile started his own record label “Froggy Bottom Records” and is looking into a procedure to have his tongue gilded in gold. TSR will keep the reader posted as more news breaks, and that is your entertainment news.
In December of 2006 this reporter had the opportunity to sit down and visit with the matriarch of the Clan of Seney. In that interview using subtle tactics and coercive suggestions I was able to extract many exciting ongoings in the family Seney. Janice, ever the proud grandmother, was bragging about her talented grandchildren when the writers ears perked up. Janice happened to be bragging about young Tracy and Tyler Camps' lyrical geneous in regards to musical composition. I had to know more, so I followed that rabbit hole to its end and the reader, I thinik, will enjoy the fruits of my labor.........
LIFE STYLES OF THE RICH & FAMOUS –An interview with the hit duo Double T
Arts & Entertainment.
TSR entertainment insiders have the latest scoop on the up and coming careers of the sibling singing sensations Tracy and Tyler Camp. As many of you know Tracy and Tyler, aka Double T have already been labeled the next Donnie and Marie Osmond. Our TSR insider recently sat down with the pop hit duo;
TSR: What’s it like to be you?
Tyler: It’s gravy! All gravy!
Tracy: It’s a lot like being, you know, like worshipped. I mean, like, I can’t even go to the Bootery without, like, being mobbed. We have to like rent the Master Chef just to, like, go eat out and stuff.
Tyler: Yeah, we the modern day Mary-Kate & Ashley. You know Dawg? Except our names ain’t Mary-Kate and Ashley and yo, we ain’t twins.
TSR: Musically, who influenced you the most?
Tyler: I ain’t gonna sit right here and lie to you, money. I learnt to lace the track and lock the flow from Barney. Yo, Barney one dope Dino, Dawg!
TSR: Has fame and fortune changed you?
Tracy: No, like, I am not that shallow. Like, I still have my original nose and I haven’t like had much work done, so, like, I would say that I am, like, the same person just, like, filthy rich and famous, and, like, above the law and all.
Tyler: I’m still the same old “G” I used to be, Dawg. But, yo, check this out, it done mixed my Pops and all. Yeah, Pops used to be all country. He got his hands on some cabbage and went off the chain! He done tricked out the fire truck with some phat 64 inch spinners and a mad sound system. He dropped it and chopped it and done went hydro on that mofo. Pops be bounc’n. And yo, you gots to check out his grill. Yo, Pops get up in here and show dis reporter yo grill man.
At this point in the interview David Camp, father of the hit duo enters the room wearing an ankle length, red silk lined, white fur coat. David is also wearing a large brim gold hat complete with a zebra striped hat band with a 4 ft. long peacock feather flowing forth. David is a professional fire fighter and longtime fire chief of the Springhill Fire Department, but in his spare time he enjoys being a Pimp.
TSR: Please join us Mr. Camp.
David: Call me Chizzle Dizzle (Chief David) cause I’m the Fizzle Chizzle of Springhizzle (Fire Chief of Springhill).
Tyler: Yo, Pops, show’em yo grizzle (grill).
Mr. Camp smiles revealing his diamond studded platinum capped teeth.
TSR: Mr. Camp how….
David: Chizzle Dizzle, please.
TSR: OK, Chizzle Dizzle, how has the success of Double T changed you?
Chizzle Dizzle: I’m just keep’n it real, yo. Show yaw how we does it between Machen Drive and Spring Branch Road, dawg. I mean I is what I is and I do what I do.
Chizzle Dizzle then began to speak “izzles” and “yo’s” so frequently that it became incoherent and the writer ended dictation.
Before going to press, TSR checked in with the Duo for an update. Tracy and Tyler are still struggling with youth and fame. Their Father David (Chizzle Dizzle) has meanwhile started his own record label “Froggy Bottom Records” and is looking into a procedure to have his tongue gilded in gold. TSR will keep the reader posted as more news breaks, and that is your entertainment news.
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