Symbiosis

We have been in our new home for about 8 months. While the home, and neighborhood, is certainly not new, it is to us, so there are always surprises.

One of those surprises happened last weekend.

First of all, our family has been through one of those weeks that no family should have to go through. And so it was we were rushing out to deal with an urgent situation when a man in a pick up truck pulls into our driveway blocking our exit.

A well worn, wiry, middle-aged Asian man jumps out and approaches our car. My mind is on the task at hand, so I really do not have an interest in talking to this guy, but I'm blocked in, so I ask, "Can I help you?"

Another man, a bit older, balding, and with a paunch, hops out of the other side of the truck.

"Are you the owner of this house?"

"Yes."

"Can we have some of your bamboo?"

Our home, affectionately known as The Compound, sits on an acre of land, squeezed in between two neighborhoods well inside the city borders. Of the acre of land, approximately half is populated with bamboo. We have two separate "bamboo forests" on the property, the front one and the rear one.

The bamboo is so think in the front that I half expect to find a family of pandas out there. A few weeks ago a tree fell within the "forest" and I did not discover it for several days. I can honestly answer the question, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it does it make a sound?" with a resounding "No!"

Maintaining this aspect of our property is a lot of work.

So the Greatest Woman on God's Green Earth (GWGGE) and I share a glance at each other and I turn to the two Asian men at my car window.

"Yes. Of course, but could you come back tomorrow. We have some urgent business to attend to right now."

They agreed, moved out of our way, and we were off.

The following day, while I was out walking the dogs, the older Asian man shows up at the house. The GWGGE gives him instruction and he begins cutting.

I arrive at the house, go out to see what's going on. A lone, balding, Asian man in business attire is hacking away at our bamboo, but only the dead stalks per the instructions. It turns out he is Ming, the lead pastor at the Vietnamese Catholic Church around the corner from The Compound. I go back inside to do the rest of my morning chores.

A while later I wander back out to the front to see how the Vietnamese pastor is faring. And when I do, I am shocked to discover a platoon of Vietnamese bamboo lumberjacks thinning out our Bamboo forest. I report my findings to the GWGGE and we have a bit of a chuckle about the whole thing.

Just before the lumberjacks leave, the pastor invites our family to their annual crawfish festival and their Sunday community luncheons filled with traditional Vietnamese fare. I can't wait to go!

A Pirate's Code: Money for nothing, and your drinks for free

A few years ago we got our financial act together. We were debt free, except for our mortgage, using cash for our daily expenses, and were able to put enough money away to send our kids to private schools.

A new house and a couple years of backsliding later, it was time to right the ship again. Back to a cash budget, could be back to zero debt other than mortgage debt in a matter of weeks, and we are starting to put money away again, and we have a plan to stash even more cash.

Living on cash is important to us. It is harder to spend cash. There is a built in hard stop to spending when you run out of cash. And it just makes our lives less stressful. We no longer wonder if we have the money to buy that new thing; if the money is not in our pocket or purse, then we don't have the money. One less thing to worry about in our anxiety filled lives.

Before you even ask: Yes. We are bound by the Pirate's Code. (That is the subject of a different post)

We have a rule in our home, "He who does the laundry, keeps the money." However, there are certain guidelines that we must all follow for this to work without someone feeling robbed. At some point, when the amount of money is unusually large (say, $20), the money should be returned to its owner. If it belongs to the boys, perhaps that threshold is quite a bit lower.

The cash budget thing has really been a boon to the one who does the laundry. About a two weeks ago, I pocketed $15. The money could have only been mine or Sue's (I was absolutely certain it wasn't mine), so I pocketed it.

Not one to let my new found wealth go to waste, I offered to take my lovely bride to happy hour. We were near the end of our two-week budgeting period, so cash was becoming more scarce and my lovely bride asked, "Can you pay for both of us, because I'm almost out of cash?"

"Of course," I replied.

She queried, "How come you still have cash, but I'm almost out?"

"I just didn't spend as much as you did this week," I replied. "And besides, I held a little back so I could take you out."

We went out; she had a margarita, I had a beer, and we shared some beef fajitas. I spent about $10 more than the $15 I found in the laundry. So our date was essentially dutch.

In case you are counting, that is 3 "brownie points" in this little story.

1. I did the laundry.
2. I asked my wife out on a date.
3. I made it look like I had taken the effort to plan the date.

And I accomplished all this while spending her cash, not mine.

Please don't tell Sue! I'll lose more brownie points than I gained.

A Butterfly Effect

I am a HUGE fan of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. If any of the three LOTR movies comes on television, there are only a few things that will tear me away. And by few, I mean somebody better be dying!

There are a number of scenes that involve butterflies or moths. Moths/butterflies are messengers, in the movies at least, for the eagles. My favorite moth/butterfly scene from the trilogy has got to be the final battle at the black gate. The key moment starts at about the 3:00 mark in this clip.

The eagles are almost always associated with a sudden and unexpected turn of events in Tolkein's books, and they are always on the side of good in the movies.

...

Nearly everyday, our dogs get a nice little walk, usually just over a mile. On our last couple of journeys we were led out of the gate by some brilliant reddish-orange moths. To be honest, I've been a little nonplussed over their consistency in behavior and presence.

My walk this past Wednesday was something a bit different, though.

The dogs were leashed as I walked to the gate. The reddish-orange moth was there again to lead us out the gate. We walked down the road to the end of the block, more reddish-orange moths lined our path. As we approached the corner, a massive Monarch butterfly met up with us, and guided us for almost a quarter mile!

It guided us around the corner.

It led us down the street.

Amazingly, it continued to lead us around another turn.

Finally, it flitted off over a fence.

It was about this time, I started looking up to the skies. I was a little freaked out. At any moment I expected to see the Great Eagles of Middle Earth bringing about a sudden an unexpected turn of events.

But, alas, I was just walking the dogs. And they did not suddenly behave themselves on the walk, so maybe that butterfly omen is one to remain in Middle Earth, and not here and now in this world.

Pity. It was a really magnificent butterfly.

My Mythology of Rain

I went to worship experience different than most I've experienced last week. It was similar to a house church, but also decidedly Methodist, too. From their website:

Kuneo is a new kind of worship gathering. Hosted at the Union Coffee House near SMU, the Village, and Lower Greenville in Dallas, Kuneo seeks to show the love of Jesus in a creative, compassionate, and communal gathering of people on the journey that we call "faith."

During the gathering last week, the theme centered on knowing your story, the church knowing its story, and then living out that story. We all have a story, and as was implied, that story converges, for all, with Christ.
So I left that gathering thinking about my story.

...

I am a little behind on the entertainment phenomenon that is Game of Thrones. We do not have HBO at home, so I have never seen an episode of the series, but I do have a library card. So I checked out the first book in the series.

I'm about a quarter of the way through the book as I write this, and I've come across a recurring theme regarding the Dothraki people in the story: the important things in a man's life always occur under the open sky.

I got to thinking about that, and it occurred to me that our family has a similar mythology. Except our mythology says that the important things in a man's life always occur in the rain.

Here are a few examples:

• When I was a child I had a major surgery that would come to define the things I could and could not do. The day I was released from the hospital, we drove home in a light, steady rain.
• The day of my wedding, a deluge nearly forced us to switch transportation from automobiles to boats.
• On the day we unloaded the moving van when we moved to San Antonio so I could start at my first "real" job, we unloaded the van in the rain.
• On the day we brought our first child home from the hospital, it was raining.
• And there was that camping trip. I think it was the last time we went camping as a family.

There are other moments like these that have graced our family, but these five stick with me most clearly. Each one of them represented a new direction that required new challenges and new skills. 

There is little hope of rain in these parts for the next six weeks or so, but every time it rains, I can't help but wonder what new direction life will take us, what new challenges we will face, what new skills we will need to learn. Rain is our omen of things to come, I just don't know what's coming. 

And that is awesome!

Baconescence: A Miracle!

Bacon is more than just an awesome food. Bacon is medicine. I explored its medicinal qualities several months ago in a post entitled: What if bacon is actually good for us? In an experiment with my nephew, we were able to isolate bacon as the anti-viral element that cured him of the flu.

That was six months ago. I have not been able to identify any other cases quite as dramatic as that one since then, but that is probably because bacon is a staple of our family's diet and of those dear to us. My mother-in-law is the exception here. She has had some kind of abdominal problem and refuses to adopt the "Take two bacon and call me in the morning" approach. She has not been well for months.

Tyra Banks loves her some bacon

Just within the past week, though, we've had a bacon cure miracle. So far, that miracle has not been verified by the Congregation for the Causes of Bacon, but I expect that to just be a matter of course. So what was this miracle of Bacon, you ask?

Here's the story:

A family member, by marriage, (let's call him Chris) was hastily transported to my house by his friend and landlord. He had been experiencing severe abdominal cramps and the disgusting stuff that comes with said cramps. The symptoms came in waves and the waves came about every 11 minutes. He was a little frightened by the whole thing and just wanted to suffer with people nearby, rather than to suffer alone. The original destination was to be the hospital, but after starting to feel a bit better, they diverted to our house.

Less than a minute after entering the house, he walked hurriedly back outside, for yet another bout of stomach malady. That was his last episode of acute abdominal distress. Period.

A few minutes later, he came back inside.

Here is the miraculous part.

A full day prior, my son, a journeyman bacon preparer in his own right, cooked himself some bacon. He is not the best at maintaining a clean cooking environment, and the smell of warm bacon grease stayed in the house well into the following day. The bacon effluvium still lingered as Chris arrived.

We waited approximately 11 minutes to see if another wave of cramps and nausea recurred. It did not. We waited another 11 minutes. Still nothing. In the meantime I got all the day's laundry folded and sorted.

Chris drank some water.

Eleven minutes later, still nothing.

Another 22 minutes with no symptoms and I brought him back home.

The only thing that the miracle investigative committee could find that might be related to his sudden and complete cure was the lingering smell of bacon.

Not only does bacon have anti-viral qualities, but I believe that even just the faint remnant of bacon fragrance has the ability to improve the health of the flora of the gut. Hence, the immediate cessation of Chris' abdominal distress.

Eat more bacon!

Don't Kill the Bees

A couple of weeks ago, on a Thursday, I went to the nearby grocery store to purchase a few things so we could grill some burgers and hot dogs. We were having just a few friends and family over to the house and did not quite have enough food to feed everyone.

I took my teen-aged son with me. Actually he insisted. Apparently I do not buy the right junk food.

In the mean time, the greatest woman on God's green earth (GWGGE) went to the home improvement store to get some things to keep the mosquitoes at bay.

The boy and I were almost done with our shopping trip, finishing up in the beer aisle (no good outdoor gathering is complete without some nice cold beer) when I get a call from the GWGGE. Here is how the conversation went, as heard by the grocery store shoppers around me.

Me: What's up?

Me: I don't know?

Me: Get the natural stuff

Me: No, the other stuff

Me: No! the natural stuff!

Me: We have to protect the bees, Honey!

Me: No! DON"T KILL THE BEES!

Me: Okay

Me: Okay

Me: Bye, love you.

Needless to say, strange looks from the other shoppers combined with a slightly embarrassed teenager meant that we quickly made our way to the checkout line and out the store.

Fast forward a couple of days later...

Shadow, the dog, loves to bark at squirrels. He loves to chase squirrels. He loves to hunt squirrels. But I think he learned to hunt from those shows on the Discovery Channel where they tag the prey and release it, because, he looks very confused when he catches his prey. Up to this point, Shadow was 0 for 3,486 in his hunt for squirrels. He has cornered a bunny rabbit, a few toads, and a number of insects, though.

There I was in the back yard and Shadow is, much to my surprise, barking at squirrels. But something is different this time. The squirrel seems to be taunting him, staying low on the tree. Suddenly, Shadow jumps up and pins the squirrel by the tail against the trunk of the tree.

I bark the command, "Leave It!"

Shadow, in his confusion, and in one motion, drags the squirrel to the ground and turns to look at me.

He looks back at the squirrel on the ground. Looks at me. I say sternly, "Come here!"

Shadow looks back one more time, not quite sure what to think of his fallen prey, and trots over to me.

I put Shadow in the house, and go inside to report the events that just occurred to the current occupants of the house, GWGGE and her sister. The younger son was in the house, too, but since it was only 11:30 in the morning, he was still fast asleep.

Together sister-in-law and I go out to the fallen squirrel and ponder its condition. It is alive, but there is something wrong with the way its legs are moving. After much consideration of the previous events, we determine that Shadow did not mortally injure the squirrel, but that the squirrel was sickly before its encounter with the dog.

Sister-in-law returns to the safety of the house as I go to do what a man's got to do.

I put the squirrel out of its misery, and add its carcass to the growing collection of critters now buried in the Pet Cemetery out behind the workshop.

All events as traumatic as this require closure for those involved. We had to come to conclusions about the poor squirrel's death, Shadow's innocence, and the distastefulness of the deed I had to do. In the course of determining Shadow's innocence we decided the squirrel was already suffering from some sort of neurological malady prior to the events detailed above. I think the final conclusion we reached came from sister-in-law, who said, "I think it was the bug spray you sprayed a few days ago that made the squirrel sick."

Some related news on bees and pesticides:
25,000 Bees Found Dead In Oregon Parking Lot, Environmental Organization Says
Oregon Issues Temporary Pesticide Ban Following Bee Deaths
50,000 dead Oregon bees to be honored in memorial service

"It's my life, and I can do what I want with it!"

Dad: "NO! It's NOT your life!"

Teenager: "Yes. It is and I can do with it whatever I want to. I can even end it."

Dad: "Did you start it?"

Teenager: "No."

Dad: "Then it is not your right to end it. And by the way your mom and I did not create your life either.

Your life is a gift. Your life is not for your own pleasure. It was given to you for a different reason, it was given to you so that you could discover your true purpose, your true identity."

Teenager: "WTF are you talking about?"

Dad: "You have a purpose, and your life was given to you so that you could discover that purpose, so go find your purpose! Don't be a coward and give up before you've even started. Before you know who you are."

Teenager storms out of the room, mind blown. 

The conversation is just starting. There is much the youngster still has to learn. "Your life is not your own" is just the first obstacle to overcome, and is perhaps the hardest, but also the easiest. There is no possibility of redemption or salvation until you understand that this life is not yours, it is the property of its creator.

It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honour of kings is to search out a matter. The heaven for height, and the earth for depth, and the heart of kings is unsearchable. Take away the dross from the silver, and there shall come forth a vessel for the finer. Take away the wicked from before the king, and his throne shall be established in righteousness. Put not forth thyself in the presence of the king, and stand not in the place of great men: For better it is that it be said unto thee, Come up hither; than that thou shouldest be put lower in the presence of the prince whom thine eyes have seen . - Proverbs 25:2-7

On the Day of Judgment, Jesus is our Redeemer and Savior, there are no accomplishments a man can present before God and be declared righteous and worthy. Only Christ is able the be judged and found worthy.

Your life is not your own. It belongs to the Creator. It is redeemed by His messiah. Your purpose is to accept this truth and repent.

Bananas, Organic and Locally Grown

I needed some sweet potatoes. I needed them to serve with a steak dinner, and I needed them in order to add sweet potatoes to my vegetable garden. The sweet potatoes had to be organic if I was to use them in the garden, so I had to venture into the local organic grocer ecosystem. We have a small organic grocery store nearby, but this is not your typical Whole Foods. This store leans to the radical edge of organic food grocers.

As with many businesses that promote saving the planet, the organic grocery store is staffed by folks who are true believers. In anticipation of my adventure into this strange world, I had to blend in so as not to arouse suspicion. In order to maintain calm among the natives I wore my Vibram Five Finger shoes, some sweats and I hadn't brushed my teeth or shaved or put on deodorant.  I had to go in with confidence. So I walked in with a distant, spaced-out look on my face. I leisurely ambled over to the produce section. I carefully selected four sweet potatoes. Three to eat, one to use for the garden.

My ruse worked!

I walked up to the only checkout aisle that was open, and I was second in line. A young woman was in front of me with a banana and four dates. She was dressed rather conservatively, in a simple red dress. She had no obvious tattoos, but when I saw her pull out her employee discount card, I understood that she was trying to go out into the world and blend in much as I was trying to do in the organic grocery store. I suspect she entered her native environment for a moment of respite and that the bananas and dates were to be lunch. I did not get too close because I was concerned that I would be found out as an interloper, and out of respect to the conversation she was having with the young man operating the cash register.

The young man behind the cash register had a scraggly beard, long hair pulled up into a type of bun. He was wearing clothing that could have easily been purchased at Whole Earth Provision or Urban Outfitters, and despite only checking out a banana and four dates, the process was a bit of a challenge.

Despite the privacy I tried to give these two in their conversation, I could not help but overhear part of their conversation. I am functional in their native tongue, but not fluent enough to follow the entire conversation, but I did make out one part of the exchange between the two.

Young woman: "Yeah. I like that it's all organic and all, but I wish they could get locally grown bananas."
Young man: "Yeah."

My effort to hide my reaction, which under normal circumstances would have included raucous and nearly hysterical laughter, must have worked. They still did not recognize me as a stranger in their habitat.

Digging Rocks

About 2 months ago, we bought a new home. It is the biggest home Sue and I have ever lived in as a married couple, and it sits on just short of an acre of land. The previous owners had essentially stopped taking care of the grounds about a year ago, so now we have to catch up. Some of our tasks are mundane, some require thought and planning, and some are just plain back breaking. Today's main task was in the back breaking category.

Our back yard has several pathways that are filled with small river stone. One of those pathways leads from the pool to the section of the yard where the pool equipment is hidden behind a fence. We decided that that particular path was in such bad shape; full of weeds, stones spilling into the grass, edging material wandering out of place, that the whole pathway needed to be moved. The other pathways were salvageable and could be refreshed and made to look good. Sue started the project last week. Here is where she left off:

So with a hoe, a wire screen to filter out the dirt, and a flat shovel, I dug into the project. Scoop after scoop of rock and dirt and weeds, till I filled the wagon...twice. I used the load of rocks from the first load to refresh one of the other pathways, but I ran out of time and energy to redistribute the second wagon load. As I finished filling the second wagon full of stone and dirt and weeds, I questioned the point of this exercise. 

But here is the result of scooping rocks: a nice clean path ready for sod and stepping stones instead of the unruly river stone.

Drat! 50 years too late

In the category of there is nothing new under the sun...

When my boys were wee little lads, we had a fascinating discussion about personal weapons of all kinds. Being small boys, they were playing a little game of would you rather... with me. Asking, "Would you rather have an airsoft gun or a paintball gun?" and,"Would you rather have a pistol or a shotgun?" and other similar types of questions.

I was getting tired of the game, so on one of the Would you rather questions, I answered with something completely different. I described to them the perfect defensive weapon. A weapon that could destroy the molecular integrity of any gun or knife or even the projectile that the weapon fired. A weapon of directed sound waves, but a silent weapon that emitted a sound that could not be heard by humans.

I told them how this weapon had not yet been invented, but that if we could invent it, we would be wealthy beyond our wildest dreams.

Well, I was wrong. This weapon had been invented.



Dr. Vladimir Gavreau, a Russian born scientist working in France to develop mechanical drones for the military accidentally discovered just how such a weapon could work.

In the late 50’s and early 60’s Vladimir Gavreau, a robot scientist of Russian birth, and his assistant found that without warning they would become nauseous and have unbearable headaches when working in their lab. As soon as they left the lab the symptoms disappeared immediately.

They knew something in the lab was causing their sickness but had no idea what it was. Eventually, they noticed that a cup of coffee on the bench had strange ripples on it, at the same time as the ripples started they began to feel ill. When the ripples stopped they were fine again.

They found that the illness, and the coffee cup ripples stopped when certain windows were covered over. Extensive inquiries and dozens of tests lead to the discovery that a faulty motor driven ventilator had been installed in the building.

It’s movement had caused an infrasonic resonance, that when coupled with the concrete in the building, formed a huge infrasonic amplifier at a resonance impossible for humans to hear but able to make them ill.

SOURCE

 

Time for a little competition

I have a friendly competition with my financial adviser. In the last two quarters of last year, my portfolio beat his by a substantial amount, until December, when his made a comeback, and I cheated. Normally our competitions are limited to mutual funds, but I cheated and bought a stock. I beat him by a landslide, but the competition was unfair.



So it is time for a new competition. But this time the competition is between the portfolio he is managing for me and a small amount of money I manage for myself. Specifically, I let him buy a specific fund on my behalf, and I bought one with my mad money that I thought would do better. We are both using a fundamentals approach to our picks. Purchases were made a few days apart, so here are the starting prices:

My pick: $12.535 per share

Financial Adviser pick: $2.340 per share*

At the end of business, Friday

Me: up 1.16%

FA: down 0.85%

This contest will last til the end of March, so stay tuned to see who wins.

*I picked a fund that does not generate income, my financial adviser picked an income generating fund. The increases/decreases in value will reflect any income generated by that fund.

What if bacon is actually good for us?

My nephew had been under the weather for about two weeks. His aunt and grandmother, with all their medical expertise as a current and former bedside nurse, prescribed him a regimen of over the counter medications. One to reduce the fever, one to reduce his mucous, one to alleviate his stuffy nose, and one for the body aches. For a week he lived life under the fog of medications and at the end of the week he still felt like crap.
Then he asked me what he should do. I have no medical training, and, in fact, I had to drop my college Microbiology class because I was failing. That failure prompted me to switch my major from the hard sciences to the social sciences.

My response, of course, "Eat more bacon!" I also told him to keep the bacon fat and use it in his preparation of other food. More bacon means better health.

[amazon_image id="B000SSV8AA" link="true" target="_blank" size="medium" ]BACON shaped themed Adhesive Bandages[/amazon_image]

He came by a week later to announce that he took my advice and he felt much better now.

Go Bacon!

Oh! Did I mention that bacon is also a "wearable" food?

Stories from the Real World

As told to me by a personal acquaintance who works in a hospital:

An elderly woman arrives in the ER with some minor injuries from a motor vehicle accident. As she is being tended to, she tells the nurse, the paramedic and the police officer in the exam room, what happened.

After getting in an accident with a younger man, she gets out of her car to inspect the damage and exchange information for insurance purposes. The younger man was acting "all crazy," harassing and berating her.

She delves into some details, which I won't go into here, but at the conclusion of her story she comments:

"After this, I am changing my stance on gun control. I think people should have guns. If I had a gun, I would have shot his ass!"

The cop snickers and replies, "Ma'am, thank you, but I can't really comment on that."

The nurse snorts and says, "Well I can. That's funny, and I think you're right!"

I'm always amazed at how real life can so easily sway a person's convictions.

A Bitter Substitution

Just before Christmas, the unthinkable happened. I made a pot of coffee that tasted like crap. It tasted weak, and it did not provide the normal morning satisfaction Sue and I have come to expect from this arousing elixir, this gift of God.

So the next morning, I tried again. I purposefully added more coffee grounds into the coffee maker, hoping that perhaps I had just lost count the morning before. It was stronger..., but not any better. Our coffee tasted less bold, or rather lacked taste altogether.

I tried again a third morning. Same result.

This was unacceptable, and my good name and my manhood were being questioned with these repeated "wimpy" coffee brews.

This was a problem.

A major problem.

A problem that required science.

So, one groggy morning (I think it was the weekend before Christmas, but I can't really remember because I've not been fully awake since the coffee issue emerged), I created an experiment to help identify the problem. My goal was to isolate the source of the problem, so I standardized coffee production.

Same filter, same coffee maker, same amount of water, same water source, same brand of coffee grounds, same time of day, and even the same coffee cups washed the night before with the same soap in the same manner. All these factors are essentially the same ones used prior to this coffee affliction entered our home.  Since I drink my coffee black, I did not have to be concerned with potential adulterating factors like creamer or sugar.

After going through these machinations since Christmas Day, I can now positively assert that the issue is not my coffee making abilities, it is the coffee.

Not only did my experimentation convince me it was the coffee, but I now have corroborating evidence that the coffee is the thing that changed.

Reuters is reporting that many of America's major brands have been quietly tweaking their coffee blends. While most coffee companies consider their blends trade secrets, and are loath to disclose exactly what goes into them, both circumstantial and direct evidence suggests they're now substituting lower-grade Robusta beans for some of their pricier Arabica, and degrading the quality of our coffee. - Yahoo! Daily Finance

In economics lingo, this is known as "substitution." Substitution is where one thing can be substituted for another and the relationship between price and demand does not. In other words, the coffee companies thought they could substitute Robusta beans for Arabica beans to reduce their costs all while maintaining their price point.

First the Feds want to trick us into believing that inflation is not so bad, now coffee companies are trying to pull the same crap.

I'll be the first to acknowledge that it is possible I am off my rocker, but Community Coffee, and Matt Saurage, if I find out you have altered a "Louisiana Tradition"... THIS IS NOT COOL, man!