Good Morning! Most of you won’t read this till Tuesday morning, so I hope you had a good holiday weekend. If it isn’t yet Tuesday morning, I hope you are having a great holiday weekend. I’m sitting on my front porch and the weather is nice, the birds are singing, and coffee at my side. There are a few things I’d like to say before I forget them.
I know I said I was going to drop the talk about weight loss, but I had to commemorate getting to 40 lbs lost. I got the “1” I needed this week, plus 2 more. Yipee! I have now lost my age (and the number that is the secret of Life, the Universe, and Everything). Now, I can shut up about it for a bit till the next milestone.
God’s provision: I was kind of worried about how we were going to get enough money in the budget to enjoy the party tonight. Because my kids are still at “can’t leave at home alone” age, dates for us can be a little tough financially; there’s that whole sitter thing (for two kids). And we wanted to make sure we had a decent of amount of money to donate for B’s trip. But, I learned with my son’s adoption not to worry about such things.* Just plan, and if it’s meant to be, God will provide a way. This attitude has not failed me yet. This is why I’m planning a multi-thousand dollar anniversary trip,even though my future employment is in doubt. You can’t live in fear.
So we planned to come to the party, we hired the sitter, and went on with our lives. Then something totally unrelated happened. Warrior, Susie and I are the “guts” behind X-Alt’s killer harmonies. From time to time, we’ll get a studio job singing background vocals or demos. We have a blast, and we usually deposit whatever we make back into the band bank account to help with expenses.
We had one this past Thursday, and I thought nothing special about it beforehand; it was just another fun studio job. When we got there, it was an incredibly neat experience; the songwriter had put together an art/music memorabilia collection to for college football fans. He had already completed one with the UT (Tennessee) licensing company, and was currently working on one for Clemson (his Alma Mater). We were to add harmonies to a set of songs that can only be described as college fight songs. I can’t tell you what fun we had; instead of nasal three-part country harmony,we got to break out our from the gut operatic tenors, baritones and sopranos. We added “crowd” cheers. We had a blast!
Well, we get done, and the songwriter, who was there, whips out his checkbook, and pays each of us seperately! It’s funny, he seemed ashamed to pay us only union scale, but I’ll confess right here and now that it was the most I’ve ever been paid personally for doing something musical. Of course, that’s not saying much, but we now have enough to pay the sitter, have some food at Lipstick Lounge, have some drinks, and still have some to donate to B. God does this every single time, and I stand there slack-jawed every single time. God is good, all the time!
I had another weird death penalty dream last night. This time, I was condemned, along with Ford Prefect. We were in some kind of old-western camp that some kind of crime kingpin owned. Thousands of henchmen lived there, and he would have people hanged as entertainment. Apparently, he had paid off enough people in the government to be able to live this weird old-west fantasy. Ford had a plan to escape, but I woke up before the hanging, so I don’t know if we got out.
Finally, I want to thank Warrior for a wonderful time last night; we went to the Kats game. He and his wife (who couldn’t go, that’s why I got to go) have wonderful seats. The Kats lost, but we still had a blast.
That reminds me of one more funny story. We went to Hooters beforehand (hey, I’m a Methodist, it’s OK!). I REALLY wanted some of those wings. But here’s the funny part. Our waitress did what Hooters waitresses do: she always leaned over the table so we could see down her Hooters shirt, she would make google-eyes at each of us, she would do that wiggle as she walked away; when I was a younger man, this kind of behavior would result in a bigger tip. But last night, when this was going on, I wanted to whisper to her, “I’m really too old for this to work on me. You are wearing too much makeup to be considered highly attractive to me, anyway. Just bring me my food quickly, and you’ll get your tip. Save the other stuff for somebody it’ll work on.”
But I didn’t say those things. And, her service was only average.
Nevertheless, I ended up staring at her boobs and still gave her 20 percent.
It’s almost Pavlovian. Oh, well.
*If I haven’t told my Dave Ramsey / adoption story, somebody let me know. It is a wonderful story.