It has happened again. I can't believe it. Im so embarrassed. Stop it what ever your thinking its not that. What is it then? Well I once again have managed to do something, so embarrassing, so senile if you will, that after the fact I cant belive I actually done something so dumb. It has actually happened to me a lot in my young life, thats why I can tell its not dementia, or old age, because I'm not that old, and the curse of doing these stupid things has been a part of me, my whole life. I guess you can say I'm a repeat offender. I dont actually do the same thing twice, because that would be insane, just once in a while my mind takes a leave of absense, and just runs on auto pilot. Its bad enough when it is working properly, but in these incidents where my brain takes a cramp, well things have a tendecy to go bad. Before I reveal to you the latest addition to "The Senile Files", just let me share some things that have already been filed there to give you a glimpse of what I am talking about. Then you will see why I rank the latest one at the very top.
The first one I want to share is filed in the "Out To Lunch" catagory. It can also be found in the "Pools Cove" file because that is where it took place. While living in Pools Cove, on the South Coast of our beautiful province, I assisted my father-in-law who was pastoring in the community. Many of my duties included, youth pastor, outreach, kids ministry, and I also drove the church bus, busing congregation members from Belloram to Pools Cove for church. At the time of the incident in question there were a lot of new things in my life. Our marriage was only in its early stages, we had a new baby, a new cat, and a brand new 2002, silver, Pontiac Sunfire. On this particular Sunday morning, My father-in-law, was away from town and so I was filling in for him that day preaching twice. It was also my turn to drive the bus. So about two hours before church time, I kissed my new baby, and my beautiful wife, and made my journey to Belleroam, about 45 minutes away. As I drove out, I took time to do the usual. I took notice of the breathtaking scenery around me, I probably sang to myself a little, and started to become overwhelmed in thought of how good my life was going. Things were going well, until about 15-20 minutes into the drive, when something felt strange, it just didn't feel right. It was the bus, there was something wrong. It was'nt handling like it usually had. As I took a look around, I was suddenly awaken to the reality of the problem. Instead of being half way to Belloram to pick up roughly 10 passengers in the usual Dodge passenger van, I realized that I had taken the wrong vehicle and was driving our brand new, 2002, silver Pontiac Sunfire. I know, I know don't say it. There are many more classified under that category that I just don't have the time to go into.
The next incident comes from the "What Was I Thinking" file. This file is chalked full of things that were done knowingly. Things that I attempted to do that I basically had no business doing. For instance things found in this file would include, "Hiking To Green Gardens", "Using My New Car As A Dune Buggy", and "Don't Jump There". It is the latter I will use to illustrate this category. As a child I rarely listened to my parents, even when it was things I knew I was prohibited from for my safety. One rule my parents had when winter time came, was no jumping on icepan's, or as we liked to call it copying. The object of this activity was to wait until the ice in the harbour began to break up. Then see how far out the harbour we could go while jumping from icepan to icepan. (sounds safe doesn't it). To shorten the story, I never listened to my parents on the day of the fore mentioned incident. This day we decide to go "copying" near a part of the harbour where a brook flowed freely into the ocean. Now there is something that happens around the area in which rivers or brooks flow into a larger body of water. A foamy like substance which we refered to has froth formed in patches all around the vicinity of the flowing. Now this froth and ice pans have some things in common. They are found in the ocean, they are found near the shore, and they are white. There is however one major thing that they don't have in common. Icepans are thick and solid, while froth, though it can be thick, is never solid, and anything that was placed on top of it fell right through to the bottom of the ocean. I think you now, given the last story, know where I am going with this. I paid attention to the things in common while totally avoiding the not in common things. So out I jumps, thud (that was a solid), thud, thud, thud, doing good. Thud, thud, thud, splash. Yes I said splash. I hit the not solid froth which I had mistaken for the solid ice, and like anything else placed on such a surface went up to my chin in icy cold water. I know what you are thinking, its karma. I should've listened to my parents. As true as that is, karma had nothing to to with it. It was just another senile act, which finds itself in my jammed pack edition of the "Senile Files."
Another file which seems to be overflowing with cases, is the "Did I Just Say That" category. This one contains more then just slips of the tongue, but also untimely statements. These are things mostly said while preaching. One of these gems happened while pastoring in Nain Labrador. The week before, during my sermon preperation, I decide on using the New International Version bible to help me explain the passage I was preaching on. Not sure now what that was, but knew that it could be explained better to my congregation while using the NIV. The service went well, and then came the time for the sermon. About halfway through the passage, I realized that I had been using the King James Version rather than the originally intended NIV. So instead of just finishing, and attempting to preach the sermon from the version used, I felt it was necessary to let the church know that I was using a different version than I had intended on using. Here is what I said: "Oh I'm sorry but I brought the wrong virgin to church tonight." There was silence, except for the commotion in my head. What did I just say? What did that mean? Fortunately none of the congregation members notice, I had dodged a bullet. Unfortunately, my wife, heard every word of it. Other slips of the tongue included, Moses taking his feet off on Holy Ground, telling the congregation to grab one in other in the name of the Lord, when I meant to say greet one another. And this classic; after preaching on the potters house saying to the congregation, "maybe tonight you need a trip to the pastor's house (I meant potter's house). These are only tip's of the iceberg, and all that my pride and dignity will allow me to tell you right now (like any of that matters after this blog).
Those are only a few file names. I don't have time to go into the, "In My Sleep", or the "How Clumsy Am I", and the "How Can A Person Prank Themselves" files. But I do however owe you an explanation for writing this blog, and telling you what incident which happened just a few hours ago, caused me to share confidential happenings from these files with you today. Well here it goes. This must be one of the stupidest and most embarrassing things I had ever done to this point (and I say that loosely). While packing this afternoon for our move to our new apartment in Pasadena, I came across a baseball cap. This cap was not mine but rather it was my wife's. I knew this because it was a pink breast cancer hat. I decided to put it on and go and see how long before my wife sees how outrageously funny I am (she was packing in the next room). But immediately after putting it on, the thought flew out of my head again with the reminder of all the work I had left to do in front of me. So instead of parading around in front of my wife with a pink hat on, I decided to get back to work. One problem though, I forgot to take off the hat. Eventually it felt like a normal hat, like my hat. After packing for some time I had gotten thirsty, not just any thirst but a thirst for a nice cold Pepsi. I decided to pause my packing and to find my way to a store somewhere to fulfill my dreams of that satisfying drink (for less than a twonie some dreams can come true). I Then told my wife of my plans and made my way to the store. Once inside I remembered thinking, my hat feels much more comfortable than usual. After I gather the merchandise I came to purchase, including two bottles of Pepsi, I proceeded to the cash. I noticed the cashier looking and me rather oddly. I just thought maybe she was in awe of my good looks. That was until while leaving the store I notice my reflection in the door. Instead of my Canadian tire Nascar hat on my head, I was prancing around the town of Deer Lake with a pink, breast cancer hat (with a studded ribbon imprinted on its peak), on my noggin. And what a noggin it is.
So its one more case for the files, under a totally new title. A title which I am sure before my time is up will be filled to the brim with cases, that only can be a part of the "Senile Files"...Oh I'm Sorry the name of that new title? it is called the "Reasons I Need Adult Supervision Wherever I Go" file. :)
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The Great Sock Conspiracy
Life is full of mysteries. Is there life in outer space? What about Bigfoot, and the Lochness Monster, myth or real? Is the glass half full or half empty? Does the tree really make a sound if it falls in the forest with no one around to hear it? Some of these mysteries are better left unsloved, because they keep us curious, and broaden our imagination. But then there are the mysteries in which their only purpose is to make us miserable, and to try and solve them can cause one their insanity. One of these mysteries is one familiar to us all. What happens to the other sock? Because of my wife's choice to recently rejoin the work field, I have found myself doing things I am not qualified doing. Things such as cleaning, cooking, and yes, operating the washing machine. My normal routine is putting the socks in the hamper, then shortly after transfer them to the washer, then to the dryer. But sonewhere in between these duties something mysterious happens. I usually start the process with a pair of socks, but when the process is completed for some of these pairs are reduced to a single sock. For instance, my most recent wash, nearly half of the pairs I washed, ended up in that great sock divorce. Where did they go? How did they get there? and why, why do so many socks diappear? Well, I have an answer. Are you ready for this? Brace yourself for what your about to hear. I beleive it all has to do with the "Great Sock Conspiracy".
We all have our suspicions about the phone company, and the post office. Recent security efforts, and satelite enhancements make nothing sacred anymore. We are being watched people, and now I want to introduce you to a new conspiracy. This conspiracy is a work of the I.S.R.A. Yes that's what I said folks, the International Sock Retrieval Agency. The work of this agency is to retrieve as many socks as they can for their classified purposes. But I, yes I your trusty blogger, I am on to them and am about to reveal to you thier greatest secrets. I will now attempt to answer the how, where, and why which motivates this conspiracy.
First of all, the how and a part of where. The I.S.R.A. are big players in the washing machine and clothes dryer industries, they own stock in most all companies. Their only involvement however in the manufacturing of the machine, is to install secret and unidentifiable portals in both washing machines and dryers (personally, I think they have them installed in hampers as well). These portals serve as transporting stations much like those seen in star trek episodes, where do you think they got the idea. The socks are then beamed up into the atmosphere for about three or four hours, and eventually end up in a classified warehouse somewhere in Iceland (I mean who would ever suspect there). There they are cleaned, only the ones from the hampers, they are sorted, and then packed to be delivered to thier next destination.
This leads us to the last part of the where, and the why. The locations of the socks then vary, to at least two different places for different uses. At least that's what my sources as well as good common sense tells me. The most obvious place where the odd socks go is to bargain shops and dollar stores. These store owners are also part of the conspiracy. Before you think i'm one goal short of a hat trick, just think about it, as I explain. During the Christmas shopping chaos, my wife and I visited one of these stores. And what a deal we got on socks, five pair for a dollar. Really, how could they do that if they didn't get thier socks dirt cheap, or say FOR FREE!!! They were good quality socks as well. As you are pondering that, just let me throw more fuel on the fire. Ever wonder why you can't keep a pen in the house or office, and why they disappear faster than Tiger Woods at the notion of an interview. It's because of the conspiracy. You can find your pens at the dollar store. Why, you might ask, would they only take one sock and not the pair. Because they want to break us and drive us nuts. Before you write me off as a basket case, just think about it.
The second where and why is, they are kept in the classified sock ware house, just until the moment we have given up hope of finding the lost sock, and any hopes of a great sock reunion. And just the moment the garbage truck rolls away with the bag of garbage containing the poor lonely odd sock inside, BAM, the portal reopens, and guess who returns to reassure our hair falls out, or turns gray before its time; the prodical sock returns. Why? Just to drive us crazy, because how would our governments ever prosper if we were saner than they are. It's a conspiracy I tell you, just think about it.
There you have it, the great sock conspiracy revealed. If you don't hear from me in a while, it's because I probably got to them, and one of two things happened. Either I have been taken and imprisoned by these barbarians, or I am in hiding, living in South America somewhere, growing coffee, and going by the name Jose, Julio, or Bubba. But at least you now know where the socks go. I have this information from really good sources, from the voices inside my head. Until next time (lets hope there is a next time), if you want to keep your socks as a pair, I suggest hand washing, and blow drying them.
We all have our suspicions about the phone company, and the post office. Recent security efforts, and satelite enhancements make nothing sacred anymore. We are being watched people, and now I want to introduce you to a new conspiracy. This conspiracy is a work of the I.S.R.A. Yes that's what I said folks, the International Sock Retrieval Agency. The work of this agency is to retrieve as many socks as they can for their classified purposes. But I, yes I your trusty blogger, I am on to them and am about to reveal to you thier greatest secrets. I will now attempt to answer the how, where, and why which motivates this conspiracy.
First of all, the how and a part of where. The I.S.R.A. are big players in the washing machine and clothes dryer industries, they own stock in most all companies. Their only involvement however in the manufacturing of the machine, is to install secret and unidentifiable portals in both washing machines and dryers (personally, I think they have them installed in hampers as well). These portals serve as transporting stations much like those seen in star trek episodes, where do you think they got the idea. The socks are then beamed up into the atmosphere for about three or four hours, and eventually end up in a classified warehouse somewhere in Iceland (I mean who would ever suspect there). There they are cleaned, only the ones from the hampers, they are sorted, and then packed to be delivered to thier next destination.
This leads us to the last part of the where, and the why. The locations of the socks then vary, to at least two different places for different uses. At least that's what my sources as well as good common sense tells me. The most obvious place where the odd socks go is to bargain shops and dollar stores. These store owners are also part of the conspiracy. Before you think i'm one goal short of a hat trick, just think about it, as I explain. During the Christmas shopping chaos, my wife and I visited one of these stores. And what a deal we got on socks, five pair for a dollar. Really, how could they do that if they didn't get thier socks dirt cheap, or say FOR FREE!!! They were good quality socks as well. As you are pondering that, just let me throw more fuel on the fire. Ever wonder why you can't keep a pen in the house or office, and why they disappear faster than Tiger Woods at the notion of an interview. It's because of the conspiracy. You can find your pens at the dollar store. Why, you might ask, would they only take one sock and not the pair. Because they want to break us and drive us nuts. Before you write me off as a basket case, just think about it.
The second where and why is, they are kept in the classified sock ware house, just until the moment we have given up hope of finding the lost sock, and any hopes of a great sock reunion. And just the moment the garbage truck rolls away with the bag of garbage containing the poor lonely odd sock inside, BAM, the portal reopens, and guess who returns to reassure our hair falls out, or turns gray before its time; the prodical sock returns. Why? Just to drive us crazy, because how would our governments ever prosper if we were saner than they are. It's a conspiracy I tell you, just think about it.
There you have it, the great sock conspiracy revealed. If you don't hear from me in a while, it's because I probably got to them, and one of two things happened. Either I have been taken and imprisoned by these barbarians, or I am in hiding, living in South America somewhere, growing coffee, and going by the name Jose, Julio, or Bubba. But at least you now know where the socks go. I have this information from really good sources, from the voices inside my head. Until next time (lets hope there is a next time), if you want to keep your socks as a pair, I suggest hand washing, and blow drying them.
Friday, January 15, 2010
A Small Step
Everything we do seem to be measured by strides. Weither it is physical steps or just monumental moments in life, it all moves us forward some way. There are times when even the physical step, though it is small, can be the beginnings of a phenomenal life journey. For instance...What did that man say about walking on the moon? Neil Armstrong I believe it was. "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." I'm not sure how small his step was, I guess it depends on his shoe size. But when it came to science, space exploration, and even in terms of aviation, it was no small step but it was a biggie. And though Neil Armstrong's stride might now be limited to a mere wobble, the impact of that step will live on, and result in many more giant leaps.
What about me? What about William Dexter George Squires? What steps have I made? How have these steps impacted me, my family, society, and dare we say mankind? (Well maybe we'll leave the last one out.) What are some little step that I have taken, that may lead to giant leaps, or head first wipe outs? When we look at first steps we can't forget, or in my case remember, that fateful day in the early 70's when little Billy Squires became mobile for the first time. Ah, my first steps, certainly they have helped me accomplish many things. They have helped reveal to me, many things about myself. I am outgoing, like to be active... and... yeah that one too, CLUMSY!!! It is because of my ability to walk I have discovered an even greater talent that I have. The one to fall down, the one to bump into things that i had no reason bumping into (that car wasn't there with no one in it five seconds ago) and to trip on my untied shoe laces (now that takes talent). But also because of those first steps, I have been able to walk hand in hand with the most beautiful woman in the world, the love of my life. And I also have been able to soothe the precious little ones she gave me, to sleep while gently rocking them on midnight strolls through hallways, kitchens, and living rooms. So as i reflect, I am grateful for my mobility, and what that first little step in Burlington Newfoundland have helped me to do, be a part of, and enjoy.
Then there are those monumental moments in life that started out with a small step, and grew into giant leaps and bounds. The decision to spend the rest of my life with the woman, who made me laugh, cry, and captivated my whole life, started out with a few small steps down the aisle of a church, but has changed my whole life. Now looking back it's amazing how far we have journeyed together. Watching my boys take thier first steps, was also monumental. Not only were we happy that they could walk, but every milestone in thier lives is a reminder of the great gift that they are and the great love of the one who gave them to us. So far those steps have caused us to bandage up boo boo's, play hide and seek, and to barricade stairways, just some of the many fun and scary tasks for the parents of children on the move. But where will these steps lead them, who knows? Neil Armstrong had no clue what his first step would mean to the exploration of space, which has already leaped far ahead of his accomplishment and expectations. Nor can we ever fathom what that first step will mean, and leap our children into.
And now, I take another small step. Insignificant? Maybe, but it's going to be a lot of fun. Change mankind? Nah, but hopefully make them laugh, enlightened, and maybe even wonder someone so goodlooking could be so crazy. What step is that? My small step into the world of blogging. Why blog you might ask? Well first of all it gives me a chance to bring my ranting to a whole new level. One far beyond that of the rant to two messy boys over a disaster zone that we call thier bedroom, or the ranting and raving (and ocassionally fist waving) to the driver who cut me off, or is driving too slow in front of me. No, this ranting will be different. Also this blog will hopefully help me revive my passion for writing, and through that avenue, put my twist on things that concern me, life in general, and stuff. It will, well, as the title says give an opportunity for the voices in my head to have thier say. You might also say, well thats an odd title for a blog. If you did say that, it's just because you don't know me. But I assure you after reading more from me, you'll understand. So it's official, with this initial blog, comes one small step for Bill Squires... and one... ahh... well that might be all that it will become. But i will certainly enjoy taking them, and hope you enjoy coming along for the stroll. Until next time, make small steps and make them often, you never know where they will lead you.
What about me? What about William Dexter George Squires? What steps have I made? How have these steps impacted me, my family, society, and dare we say mankind? (Well maybe we'll leave the last one out.) What are some little step that I have taken, that may lead to giant leaps, or head first wipe outs? When we look at first steps we can't forget, or in my case remember, that fateful day in the early 70's when little Billy Squires became mobile for the first time. Ah, my first steps, certainly they have helped me accomplish many things. They have helped reveal to me, many things about myself. I am outgoing, like to be active... and... yeah that one too, CLUMSY!!! It is because of my ability to walk I have discovered an even greater talent that I have. The one to fall down, the one to bump into things that i had no reason bumping into (that car wasn't there with no one in it five seconds ago) and to trip on my untied shoe laces (now that takes talent). But also because of those first steps, I have been able to walk hand in hand with the most beautiful woman in the world, the love of my life. And I also have been able to soothe the precious little ones she gave me, to sleep while gently rocking them on midnight strolls through hallways, kitchens, and living rooms. So as i reflect, I am grateful for my mobility, and what that first little step in Burlington Newfoundland have helped me to do, be a part of, and enjoy.
Then there are those monumental moments in life that started out with a small step, and grew into giant leaps and bounds. The decision to spend the rest of my life with the woman, who made me laugh, cry, and captivated my whole life, started out with a few small steps down the aisle of a church, but has changed my whole life. Now looking back it's amazing how far we have journeyed together. Watching my boys take thier first steps, was also monumental. Not only were we happy that they could walk, but every milestone in thier lives is a reminder of the great gift that they are and the great love of the one who gave them to us. So far those steps have caused us to bandage up boo boo's, play hide and seek, and to barricade stairways, just some of the many fun and scary tasks for the parents of children on the move. But where will these steps lead them, who knows? Neil Armstrong had no clue what his first step would mean to the exploration of space, which has already leaped far ahead of his accomplishment and expectations. Nor can we ever fathom what that first step will mean, and leap our children into.
And now, I take another small step. Insignificant? Maybe, but it's going to be a lot of fun. Change mankind? Nah, but hopefully make them laugh, enlightened, and maybe even wonder someone so goodlooking could be so crazy. What step is that? My small step into the world of blogging. Why blog you might ask? Well first of all it gives me a chance to bring my ranting to a whole new level. One far beyond that of the rant to two messy boys over a disaster zone that we call thier bedroom, or the ranting and raving (and ocassionally fist waving) to the driver who cut me off, or is driving too slow in front of me. No, this ranting will be different. Also this blog will hopefully help me revive my passion for writing, and through that avenue, put my twist on things that concern me, life in general, and stuff. It will, well, as the title says give an opportunity for the voices in my head to have thier say. You might also say, well thats an odd title for a blog. If you did say that, it's just because you don't know me. But I assure you after reading more from me, you'll understand. So it's official, with this initial blog, comes one small step for Bill Squires... and one... ahh... well that might be all that it will become. But i will certainly enjoy taking them, and hope you enjoy coming along for the stroll. Until next time, make small steps and make them often, you never know where they will lead you.
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