SLOTH.

I went into sloth-remission last year and got into excellent shape.  I lost more than 70 pounds.  I was wearing slutty tight jeans and looking pretty good in them, so I bought new cloths for me and my daughter from the Girls Clothes store online.  I had enough self confidence that I even scared me a time or three.  I was attracting ample attention from the opposite sex.  I wasn’t the fat Pirate anymore.  I blended in well with the other girlies.  I was becoming a certified hottie patoddie. 

Then…  around turkey day… I lost my motivation or ate way to much turkey with dressing and punkin pie or something.  I started eating everything in sight that even looked like it had a carb attached to it.  I quit going to the gym like I was.  My butt went from being touchably firm back to jiggly like a bowl of jello.  Of course, poured into the jeans, nobody could tell.  But I could tell.

I’m still down several sizes from where I started.  Thank God, because I gave all of my fat clothes away and bought new.  They just don’t fit as comfortably as they did.  I find myself having to hold my breath… ALOT! Didn’t take long before I started to get more and more miserable. 

Now here it is summer.  The season I spent the whole of last fall dreaming of, only to wake up and realize… I had failed.  I’m not beach worthy.  I’m not bathing suit worthy. 

I honestly do know what the problem with my motivation is and I am actively working on a resolution to it.  I couldn’t beat ’em, so I joined ’em.

I have quit with the Taco Bell, Papa John’s and Booger King.  I have stopped sneaking into the kitchen and scarfing down a couple cookies here, a few chips there.  And most importantly, I’m not just spending ungodly amounts of money on a gym membership. No longer will it just be an expense sucked out of my bank account.  No. 

I have started doing cardio and group exercize classes again.  I have started eating healthy again.  For my health’s sake.

I had forgotten how good I felt when I was working out and eating right.  It wasn’t just the ability to wear skanky clothes.  It’s more internal than that.  I liked the way I felt.   I had energy. I had attitude. 

So, here I go again.  Wish me luck.  I have a wedding dress to fit into in 2 months and 19 days…

Benjamin Franklin once said, “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants to see us happy.” If this is true then why is there a last call at the bar, drinking age and limited availability? Why force us partake with regard to responsibility this wonderful gift of our glorious maker? After all, Jesus is the Wonderful Counselor. Counselor is a pseudonym for attorney.  So he could take care of any trouble you could get into.  (Unless it’s not part of the Divine plan.)

I may be the only one who see this train of logic, I still think it is ideal. Oh well, so much for living in a perfect world.

Must have something to do with that whole original sin idea. You’re born and very much guilty until proven innocent. Therefore, you are subject to archaic rituals of cleansing and reckoning. So then, you can think like a child in order to approach an ideal afterlife. However, you went through all the ritual to avoid the tendencies of misdeed in the first place. Something sounds fishy about this. It’s all a little too cyclical if you ask me.

I guess that is what I get for trying it interject logic into a book. Especially since its origins are rooted in religion and supposed to be the words of the Divine. Who in the book translates best as a distant father figure that shakes a finger at you and says, “Damn it, do it my way or the highway.” Then gives you freewill. The problem I think has nothing do with the original idea. The interpretation mistakes lie in the hands of the penholders who recorded it and the translators in later years, not the concepts.

In a surprise move yesterday, July 4th, 2007, 24-year-old Al Gore III proved that he’s more honest than his father, Al Gore, Jr.  Apparently excercising his own form of “independence,” the privileged pothead was pulled over and arrested for driving more than 100mph, and for possession of Marijuana and a number of other drugs… While high…It could have not just lead to him being hurt but also could be the end to the other drivers near him. Click here to read more if you want to know what to do after such reckless drivers cause an accident.
The Al Gore, Jr., camp quickly came to the rescue, offering the explanation that the entire thing is a pubilicity stunt to show people that the hybrid-electric Toyota Prius can be driven at excessive speeds, therefore making it a reliable and viable alternative to traditional gasoline-powered combustion engines, all the while getting 55mpg.

Apparently, Al Gore, Jr., thinks the rest of us are as full of shit as he is.

It’s also worth noting the fact that a 1981 Subaru 1600DL would get 52mpg, and the 1997 Chevrolet Cavalier with the 1.8 OHC would get 49mpg, without all the excess hybridization… Those are actual mileages from real-time, personal experience.
Instead of burning a little gas, Al Gore would have us all drive cars which are put together with numerous refined gases and petrochemical products.  This, of course, shows a need for more petrochemical refineries and plastic manufacturing plants, in addition to the astounding increase in global energy usage to manufacture things “a new way.”
So, ummm, isn’t that certainly worse for emissions than a few more gas-guzzling SUV’s…?  All so that we can add a measly 5-8mpg?
Am I missing something, or does the math not work?  Shouldn’t we be doing better?

Can you say Voodoo Economics, boys and girls?

I knew you could.

Tip: Les Jones at his new blog, Rock Stars Against Live Earth.

When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents (my father’s) and with a family of sister’s in Knoxville.  Since there weren’t any other kids to play with, I ended up spending most of my time with people who were at least close to retirement.  And it was pretty cool.
They’d tell me about the things that they did when they were kids, places they’d gone, people they’d met in their lives.  Sometimes, when you’re very young, you don’t understand what they’re telling you.  As you get older, and they fall away, sometimes you’ll remember their words like it was yesterday.
Their stories, their words, people who grew up here in East Tennessee, probably shaped me more than any parables and punishments my parents ever gave me.

I can remember a time when people were helpful.  If someone fell, people showed concern instead of walking around them like they didn’t exist.  If someone dropped something, someone would pick it up for them.  If someone was walking with their arms full of shopping, people would open the door for them.  If they saw someone stuck on the side of the road with a dead car, they’d stop, lend a hand, or, when all else failed, a ride to a gas station.
Those are values that were instilled in me.  If I see someone lying on the ground, I’ll help them up.  If someone drops something — even money — I’ll pick it up and chase them down to give it back.  I hold the door open for anyone who can’t quite do it, and behind me for everyone close.  And if I see two guys trying to push a dead van off the road, I’m certainly gonna stop and lend a hand.
East Tennessee, even Knoxville, has always been that way.

Unfortunately, we’re getting a lot of people moving here these days.  Knoxville, especially, is a real-estate boom town where we get The Happy House Cleaning London to help on our house cleaning.  People are moving here in droves, eager to pick up cheap real-estate and perhaps even know their neighbors. VA home loan help from professionals grant them a possibility to purchase or refinance their home mortgages.
Local culture is changing from the open, community-based ideal that we used to enjoy to a selfish, greedy, don’t-get-involved mentality.  It’s starting to feel like Washington, D.C.

I hate watching things go downhill.

Tonight, after ordering a pizza at a place which usually takes thirty minutes to prepare one, I got there to find that they’d lost my order.  Now, I was starving, so I’d called ahead.  I told them no bother, decided to go up the street to a restaurant.
As I left and started back home, traffic was heavy.  I had to wait some time before being able to leave the parking lot.  As I drove down the road, I saw two guys in their late 20’s, maybe early 30’s, pushing a van towards a gas station — with great difficulty, up a small hill.  I didn’t have a place to pull over and help, so I turned around and came back.
I got out, and gave them the extra leverage they needed to push the van into the parking lot they were trying to get to.

As I got back in my car, they yelled, “God bless you, man!  Thank you!”
“No problem, guys,” I yelled.  “Hope it gets better.”
“Man, thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.  Take care.”

The sad thing is, at least 30 other drivers didn’t give damn.  Maybe they had to be somewhere quickly.  Maybe they were elderly and couldn’t lend a hand.  Maybe they just didn’t see them (*cough* right).

So why was I different?  Why did I have the two minutes to stop and lend a hand where no one else did?
I was born here.  I grew up here.  It’s what we’re supposed to do.

We should be showing the influx of people from other places what it means to be East Tennesseeans … to know our neighbors … to have friends … to walk around giving a damn about someone other than ourselves …

It saddens me that us East Tennesseeans are losing that…

Quite honestly, I’d rather get taken a couple times than turn down someone who legitimately needs help.  You can sort of tell…

     Today’s our country’s most important historic holiday, Independence Day, July 4th.  It commemorates the signing of our Declaration of Independence, the document which began the American Revolution and outlined, in no uncertain terms, that our “colony” would revolt from tyranny and come into it’s own.
     Last year, I wrote about the history of fireworks during the celebration, mostly because I kept hearing people complain about them.  It amazes me how people can forget history and sentiment so easily…

     Fireworks are beautiful, large and loud.  A proud display can give even those with the hardest hearts a smile, and a small display makes us wish for more.
     They’re also one of my favorite things to take photos of — freehand, without a tripod.

     Last year’s complaint has this year been replaced by, “Why do we have cookouts and drink beer?”

     For the very same reason I enjoy taking photos of fireworks.  For the same reason we can drive over to a secluded place and set off a massive display.  For the same we complain about “our loss of Freedoms” so much…
     The reason is simple:

     Because we can.

     As Americans, we take for granted what’s missing most everywhere else.  Like it’s been said a million times, “With Freedom comes great responsibility.”  As long as we can continue to act responsibly, we’ll never lose that.

     Happy Birthday, America!