GULA

Gluttony.

Waste, Overindulgence.

Gluttony: the act or practice of eating to excess

I never had this problem until football. Under normal circumstances, I don’t have this problem. Unfortunately, I seem to suffer a minor case of Dysthymia (chronic depression), I also seem to comfort eat. Fifty of the pounds I’m trying to lose came in one 6 month period of time at the end of my senior year in high school, those of you who knew me then, might have an idea how bad a year I had. The other fifty that I have lost since last year I put on in the last 6 months with what’s her name.

Though, on a regular basis, depression and holidays excluded, I think it safe to say, I don’t suffer this one consistently. I am obviously guilty of it, otherwise I wouldn’t have had to go to the other side of the world and change my whole lifestyle.

Waste:
1. To use, consume, spend, or expend thoughtlessly or carelessly.
2. To fail to take advantage of or use for profit.

1: It is quite debatable, that I “waste” money. I just see it as a resource to accomplish things. Example: spending time with a friend, going out to eat. People are more important to me than money, hence the number of Christ’s Mass presents I buy every year.

2: I am an opportunist. So I would argue that this part of the sin does NOT apply to me. On a regular basis anyway.


Overindulgence: To indulge to excess.

Addiction. Pepsi would be my most predominant addiction. I have spent the last few weeks trying to break it. I am nearly to the point of not having withdrawal headaches, nearly. I have come to realize in my time here that I seem to have an addictive personality. Ironically, I don’t see (much of) a problem with alcohol and addiction. Pepsi is much worse. It is good though being aware of my potential in this vice. I feel it will help me keep a closer eye on myself and my health.

I am not the only American that suffers this. Sixty seven percent of noninstitutionlized adults (The civilian population excluding persons residing in institutions. Such institutions consist primarily of nursing homes, prisons, jails, mental hospitals, and juvenile correctional facilities) aged 20 and above are overweight. Six out of ten (nearly seven) out of ten American adults! I don’t even feel like going into all the statistics of drug abuse.

There are people ALL over the world who are quite literally starving to death. If obesity was a world wide problem, well, then that would show that we are taking care of others. The fact though that Americans, Aussies, and UKers are so much fatter than Haitians, Kenyans, Indians (dot not feather), etc. shows that we are selfishly looking out for ourselves. And the amount of food that I see people waste. Almost makes me cry when I think to my countrymen in my mother country of Honduras. That was quite literally, one of the reasons I had to break up with "she who must not be named" because of the disgust in seeing her how much she wasted. She is not alone however...


I really really HATE sounding like a Baptist or Pentecostal, but... Seriously… how long before we piss God off like Sodom did?

Wanting A to Being A Rachel

Edward… What the hell are you talking about!?

Well, remember a couple weeks ago when I met Ray’s daughter, and was referring to her as “Rachel” because of the Biblical story of Jacob working on Rachel’s fathers farm to get approval to marry her. Ya? And remember yesterday when I said I am going to be working at a coffee shop?

Ok, now then, who remembers Season 1 of “Friends”?

Rachel Greene (played by the very beautiful Jennifer Anniston). A spoiled city slicker finds herself in a new situation with a new group of friends, and goes from being taken care of by her parents to working in Central Perk, the coffee shop the friends cast frequent. Savy?

Ya… ok, seemed like a creative title for a blog at the time…


FIRST though! (2nd if you are counting the intro trying to explain the way I name things) A very happy Birthday to a very special person who has been quite an added blessing in my life, Michelle. I’m lucky to have a friend like her, I’m lucky to have shared some of my travel memories with her, and I’ll be lucky when we are both in the same country to hang out with her again. Michelle, may your 24th lap around the sun be filled with many blessings, adventures, friends, and opportunities, and may it be just one of MANY laps that God has planned for you to take in His service.



Alright, funs over, back to business.

So, Dirty Job #11: Working at a café.

Unfortunatly, not as a baker, as the bus boy/dishwasher/whatever the hell else they need me to do. I don’t mind it so much because it reminds me of the good ol’ days working with my camp Mom, Liz. Except… OSHA has no say in Australia, they have OHNS, but even OHNS’s word doesn’t seem to carry much weight around here. Mom Liz… you would have been BEYOND sorely disappointed. Some of the stuff was just getting rinsed! The stuff that DID go through the dishwasher wasn’t even scrubbed before hand, so some gunk just got baked on by the heat. Icky…

OH, and another thing Liz… remember how I could never perfectly cut even slices of tomatoes? Ya… guess what!

…still can’t… I did manage to take a bit of skin off my thumb though.

Twas an alright day all in all. Except that Ray wasn’t home, so I only worked one of
the two jobs. That was kind of enough though.

AVARITIA

Greed.

Treachery, Covetousness (Excessive, unnecessary acquisition of wealth).

“DADDY!
I want a goose, I want a goose to lay golden eggs for Easter!”

Well, you know what Veruca… like the philosopher Jagger hath said:
“You can’t always get what you want”


This is a tough one for me to write about, I don’t quite see myself as a greedy person, I’m quite easy to please actually.


Greed: An excessive desire to acquire or possess more than what one needs or deserves, especially with respect to material wealth.


As we have already established, I am a capitalist. I believe in working and earning what you have. I believe in striving to be the best you can be. I believe it is perfectly fine to earn as much money as possible. Money itself is not evil. You can feed a lot of people with money. You can build a lot of homes with money. You can do all sorts of good with money. The LOVE of money is what is evil. Not the “like” of money. I like having money. I can treat a friend to lunch when I have money. I can put fuel in my car and visit someone I haven’t seen in a long time with money. So, no, money in itself is not evil.

Loving, I mean truly LOVING money, that is where problems arise. The movie “Click” I feel is great example of what can happen when you put work before family.

Andrew Carnegie, one of America’s historical rich men, once wrote, “I want to make as much money as I can in the first part of my life. In the second, I want to give away as much money possible.” History remembers Carnegie, it does not take much of a second look at his peers who horded their money, and died poor and alone.

The first part of the definition of Greed people always go on and on about, but, there is a statement that I would like to focus on, “…more than what one… deserves”. In this, I can classify myself as guilty. But we all are.

Yesterday I mentioned a person who use to be very close to me. Once, she was in a car accident and on unemployment. There was a condition for her to extend her unemployment, she had to show proof of seeking a new job. I happened to be at the house one day when she was filling out the paperwork. We were watching a movie, and she was flipping through the phonebook writing down the information of different business. Not calling, not making notes to visit them. NO. Nothing of the sort. She was claiming that she had already visited them looking for employment. Which of course was not the case. She lied. Her lie, allowed her to get money which she did not deserve that was being provided by others who were in fact working. This can also be related to and connected to the first topic of the week of Sloth, but I feel it fits in well with the concept of wanting something that one does not deserve.

Another related example that could fall into either category…

My friend Andrew worked as a checker in a supermarket. One day, an alumnus happened to go through his line with her child, let’s just call her “Megan Greek”. “Megan” happened to be talking on the newest, latest and greatest phone that had just come out at that time. Now, I could very easily go on a rant about how the entire time she was in line, she very rudely ignored Andrew (who’s like the nicest guy ever) and just talked on her expensive cell phone, then! Asked if Andrew had a Myspace to add him later, to which he simply replied “no”. Why? “If she isn’t going to talk to me in person when I am standing right in front of her, there is no reason to pretend I’m a friend online”. Ok, so maybe I did go into that rant a little bit… BUT! Back on course… after all grocery costs have been totaled, she pays with food stamps. Nothing wrong with this at all in the slightest to those who actually need the help.

Flaunting an expensive phone, or driving an amazingly awesome car… wrong way to prove that you actually need this help from the government.

I pay taxes. Tax money goes into food stamps. I donate food at Thanksgiving and Christ’s Mass, but that is my choice. I don’t like the concept of my tax money going to help someone who will pay for food with my money, save their own money, and buy a nicer phone then what I have.

That is wanting money that is undeserved. That is greed. That is using people. And that is wrong.

In one way I suppose I can be classified in this category, but not with material wealth. I want something that my history says I don’t deserve. Though, rather personal, and I don’t see myself going into the details of it. I bring it up only to show, I’m not just casting a finger towards others without looking into the mirror myself. I'm not pious enough for that (besides, every time you point your finger at someone there are 3 pointing back at you)


Treachery:
1. Willful betrayal of fidelity, confidence, or trust.
2. The act or an instance of such betrayal.

I scheme a lot. And I plot. But after having actually read the definition, I’m quite relieved to see that I am not actually treacherous. I hate the concept of betrayal, and strive to never willfully betray a friend. I myself have been betrayed. Former “family”. Friends. Coworkers. A horrible feeling. And being that I try to do onto others as I would have them do on to me (hence the occasionally brutal honesty) I try steering clear of betraying.


Covetous: Excessively and culpably desirous of the possessions of another. See synonyms at Jealous.

This kinda goes back to yesterday’s topic. My family lost a piece of adopted family due to covetousness. It drives a wedge between people. And people, when we are divided, have a hard time showing each other love. Love when it is not shown, allows for hate to appear. Hate tends to lead to acts of evil. Now we return to how we started this series, “Evil triumphs, when good men do nothing.”

It is hard being a true Christian in America and the rest of the industrialized world. How can you be a good capitalist and still not be greedy? It takes balance. You might not always be able to get what you want…


“…But if you try sometimes, well, you just might find, you get what you need”

Batman and Italians

Palm Sunday:

I went to Italian Mass for Palm Sunday. During the “Peace” I happened to meet an Italo-Aussie who resembles a high school friend of mine. Did the usual Sunday routine of go to Maccas and then played a bit of Cutthroat Billiards. I don’t remember being so bad at it, either that or Matthew and Adam have gotten WAY better.

In the arvo (afternoon), after a bit of a drive through the country, I helped Paul and Adam with Adam’s school project. Year 6 students do an electricity project, and so a few weeks when Adam came home and told us the due date, and we brainstormed on what Adam’s project would be. I of course, suggested the Batsign. After a few days of work on Adam and Paul’s part, the day has come for final assembly to turn it in. Now, it was not my project, and I am no electrician like Paul, but, I do have a thing about having creative ideas, also since Adam does not have a blog of his own, I thought I’d brag for him, look at what the lil’ guy did:











Even made a lil Batman to stand next to the Batsign



And what the light looks like:





Today:

Stayed up later than I should have last night because a friend of the boys wanted (needed) help with an essay that she and the twins had to write for English. It was at this point I realized I can totally be an English lit teacher. Then I remembered all the stuff my favorite ex is going through becoming one, and I regained my senses on the matter.

So it rained last night/this morning, which worked out since I was still sleepy. I realized, if I go out to Ray’s, I am totally going to get bogged down in mud and not be at all efficient. So I thought I would wait till the afternoon to go. In the mean time, sleep for a bit. I get a text from my handler (of course, the day that ALL I want to do is catch up on sleep, he texts me, not while I’m at work and already alert) that says, “Hi, do you need work?”

Well, I have been working with Ray of course, but, I am an opportunist, so, if I could make more money somewhere else in my last month, of course I would take it, but if it was the same as working at Ray’s, I would pass it up, because I really like working for Ray. So we text back and forth for a couple hours when I’m just trying to sleep to find out, that it would be washing dishes at a bakery and would be the same hourly rate that I get from Ray. The difference is it would be consistent, because I get paid by Ray depending on what I am doing, if it is general farm hand work, it is hourly, if it is picking, it is at the rate of whatever I happen to be picking. So I figure it would be worth looking into. I ask my handler Michael for the details and he says,

“Mick’s Bakehouse after 3pm today, ask for Maria -- --------- she is a nice lady, don’t listen to Ray! Tell her about your baking skills! Start at 9am tomorrow! You will be surrounded by hot x buns! Temptin!!”


So I get up and I get ready to go, right as I am about to leave Jan pulls up and I chat for a bit before taking to the streets. I get to the bakehouse and get the details. I will be there 9a-2p Mon-Friday which still leaves me enough time to work for Ray. Now, when Michael told me I’d be surrounded by “hot x buns” I was pretty sure he was talking about the English pastry treat “hot cross buns”, then I discovered that the majority of the people who work there are young lady’s about my age. Not quite sure which buns he was referring to, but with my weight loss and dislike of English food I know which ones will be “Temptin”.

I decided to have Ray be the first to know of the new job. I ended up waking him up from his siesta. He seemed ok with it, especially when I told him I could work all day Saturday to prepare for the market on Sunday.

Went to Michael’s place for a bit of a chat and say thanks for the new job. This is where a bit of my curiosity is satisfied. Michael has a three legged dog who I call “tripod” who always runs up to me when I’m there, and of course, like always, Tripod came running up to me. Which reminded me!

As it turns out, Ray did in fact lose his arm in a farming accident to some equipment when he was a teenager.


I came home, ate and chatted with the family for a bit before going back to Ray’s for an hour or so of work. While I was there we worked together planting broccoli and then picking some beans. We were putting crap on each other like Skippys do (the slur word for Aussie) but there was something a bit different about it tonight. I asked if he was alright with me getting a second job and was like, “of course! Your just another backpacker, I’ll get by, been doing this for years one handed before you got here… plus ya still comin da arvos right?”

Something I might have mentioned before is that Ray has a bicycle that I usually ride from one part of the farm to the other when I don’t need the ute (truck). When I first started working there, I learned the hard way that the left side handle bar break or gears where not connected. After all, a guy with only one arm, why have the left break and gear shifters connected right?

Something I did not mention was, a few days ago when I told Ray that if he really has enough work for me, I’ll stay in Leeton until May, and if he’ll have me, I’ll be his regular employee, well, a day or so later, I was riding the bike, and I was going to play around like I had been doing since I first found out about the left side of the handle bars, and practice squeezing the left break as though it where the clutch on a motorcycle to get the feel for it.

I found myself stopped.

Ray had reconnected the left part of the handle bars. There is no reason for him to for himself. He did it for a two armed rider who would be using the bike a lot. It did not really dawn on me until this evening that he changed his bike cause he likes having me around. I don’t know if he nags other backpackers why they don’t want to go to market with him, and I don’t know if he has his girlfriend cook lunch for other backpackers also. I do know that come May, I have one more person that it will be sad to say goodbye to in Leeton.

INVIDIA

Envy.

Jealousy, Malice.

Google describes “Malice” as: feeling a need to see others suffer.

If you cause others to suffer, it makes it rather hard to show them love. I can’t say that I avidly on a conscious level suffer from malice. I do believe in the eye for an eye concept, but in the sense that it was intended (to prevent the escalation of violence) not in the crazy ass scary republican sense where you shoot the guy who stabbed you.

Having a problem with Wrath however, I think malice would be much better grouped with Wrath then it is with Envy. But not being perfect myself, it’s a bit like splitting hairs. A sin is a sin, I would just prefer to narrow the list down to 3 then 4, especially when it is only 4 by technicality.

I still have a hard time though admitting to the fact that I deal with malice, especially when I have such a Batman sense of justice.

“Why Edward… what do you mean?”

Well, Batman never killed the Joker, or any villain, because he believed in people. He gave people the benefit of the doubt and believed that they could change. God doesn’t want His people to suffer, and so, the only time the thought crosses my mind, are when it comes to Hitler/Stalin like people, who cause great suffering in others.

As for Jealousy… well, let’s think for a moment…

I am not…
*…as good with money as Val,
*…as patient as Phil,
*…as peace seeking as Luke,
*…as well liked by people as Andrew,
*…as loaded with degrees as Pastor Dave,
*…as good of a cook as my Mother (either blood or camp mom),
*…as good of an operator of machinery as my Step-Father,
*…good at math like Michelle or Vic,
*…good at music like Matthew and David M.,
*…as good at studying as my Sister,
*…in the same great shape that my Brother-in-Law or friend George are in,
*…as tall as Shaun,
*…as good of a writer as Ryan,
*…have as good of hair as Matt B.,
*…as good of a teacher/speaker as Pastor Aaron,
*…as popular as Jessica (either Q.Crespo or Bishop),
*…as well traveled as Jason K.,
*…as loaded with as many languages as any of my European friends,
*…as good with accounting as Deanna,
*…good enough at my own mother tongue (Spanish) to teach it properly like Angie,
*…as dependable as Stacy,
*…as smart as my professors and advisers,
*…as funny as Ed.


Well shit… what’s left?


Consider this…

The Bald Eagle is the national bird of the greatest country on earth, the United States of America.

Let’s take a look at the Bald Eagle.

*It is not the largest bird; that would be the ostrich.
*It is not the highest flying bird; the record goes to a Ruppell’s Vulture.
*It is not the fastest swimming (and yes, they can swim); the Gentoo Penguin is the Michael Phelps of the bird world.
*It is not the tallest flying bird; the Cranes of the Gruidae family are.
*They are not the heaviest birds of prey; the Condor is.
*Bald Eagles do not have the longest feathers; the phoenix fowl (a type of rooster bred in Japan) holds that record.
*The Australian Pelican has the longest bill; not the Bald Eagle.
*Woodcocks have the largest field of vision at 360 degrees; a lot more then the Bald Eagle’s.
*The Wandering Albatross possesses the largest wingspan, up to 4 feet larger than the largest recorded Bald Eagle’s wingspan.
*The Bald Eagle on average tops out at 40 mph OR 100 mph during a dive; the Peregrine falcon can dive at up to 168 mph.
*There is often much debate between which bird; whether the Peregrine Falcon, Hawk, or Owl; has the greatest eyesight, the Bald Eagle’s is only about 4-5 times better than man’s.
*It has the second largest nest, second to the Mallee Fowl of Australia.


Basically… what makes it National Bird worthy?

It might not be the highest flying, but it DOES fly high.
It might not have the greatest vision, but it DOES have great vision.
It might not carry the most prey, but it DOES hunt and it DOES carry away large amounts of prey.
The Bald Eagle is also the ONLY bird that does not fly away from a storm, but sits it out.

Sure, I’m not as “nice a guy” as my best friends, but I don’t take as much shit from people.

I might not be left brained, but, I can write, speak, and I can be creative and deal with concepts that don’t have specific rules like math, language, and music do; due to my awesome right brain.

And, as for my fellow right brainers from SB well… ok, you win on that one. BUT! #1 I can still eat Bacon and #2 the military doesn’t even want my hair that long (I philos you two though, Ryan & Matt)

I might not have that many degrees or dollars in my bank account, but I’m rich with life experiences.

No, I don’t have a problem with Envy, certainly not in the Jealousy form. I do know why it is considered a deadly sin. It ruins relationships. Jealousy in others, has ripped 3 people out of my life that I thought would always be there. They took care of me, my parents trusted them with my life. They watched over me the day my father died, and yet, where are they now? God knows. They also took a “good” friend of mine with them when they left my family’s lives. And all as a result of jealousy, I can’t even watch “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” the same way ever again, because Tula and her parents remind me so much of the traitor and her family.

This may fall under the Pride category, but I think it fairly safe to say, Envy, is NOT one of the ways I put Christ to death (although there are plenty of others)

ACEDIA

Sloth.

Laziness, Sadness, Apathy.

We start the week off with something just about everyone suffers every once and awhile. Some more than others, Homer makes for a great example of a poor example.

Out of all the new expressions I’ve learned here in Australia, the one that bothers me the most that is used by EVERY Aussie I’ve met is, “I can’t/couldn’t be bothered…” The worst part about this phrase that I’ve noticed is this, it seems to always be said in a situation where the person DOES care and/or has just made a big deal about something. Ex: “I want some ice cream, that sounds really good doesn’t it? I think I should have some ice cream, do you want any?”
“ya”
“well, can you get it?”
“why can’t you”
“Oh… meh, I can’t be bothered”

Oh ya… go ahead and laugh my fellow Americans, I only started off with an Aussie phrase because I am IN Australia right now, but, you’re up next, take a look at this:



Alright, I’m getting ahead of myself… back to the beginning. The topic of today’s Blog is Sloth. But as you might notice, there are three sub definitions to Sloth.

Laziness, Sadness, and Apathy.

Laziness: Resistant to work or exertion; disposed to idleness.

Ya, I’m guilty of this when it comes to homework, and exercise. What makes this so bad? Well, for starters, using my first 2 examples. If I was more diligent in my homework in High School, I would have had a good enough GPA to get into the Navy Academy. If I was as diligent working out, I wouldn’t have to unspoil myself half way around the world, nor would I have allowed myself to slide to this point to begin with.

Proverbs 20:4 says, “The sluggard will not plow by reason of the cold; therefore shall he beg in harvest and have nothing.”

If you are too lazy to work, and you have just barely enough to get by… then you can’t help others. Flat out.

“geez Edward, that sounds very unselfish coming from a hard core capitalist like you… you sure you don’t want to re-think that last statement?”

I am NOT a communist no… you’re all right about that one. But, the role of the church is to show love to others, and one way we do that is take care of those less fortunate. That seems to be the ongoing theme of the seven deadly sins… I think what makes them “deadly” is the fact that one way or another, they prevent us from showing the love of Christ to others. In this example, you have no resources to do so. Yes, a counter argument can be made for that widow who gave a dollar versus the millionaire that gave a few thousand, and yet Joshua said “she gave more” because in percentage it was more, yada yada yada.

But she was an old widow, not lazy. She was trying and that’s all she could afford. The ancient world was MUCH different for widows and orphans than the modern world.


Sadness: Affected or characterized by sorrow or unhappiness.

The definition having been read… try Psalm 149:2-3 (just one of MANY sections that involves rejoicing) “Let Israel rejoice in their Maker; let the people of Zion be glad in their King. (3) Let them praise His name with dancing and make music…”

Hard to rejoice when you are sad right? Or is it?

Two ways of looking at it:

*Hard to rejoice when you are sad
Or
*Hard to be sad when you are busy rejoicing.

Little kids are great, they almost always see the positive in a situation. You can bring them down, but why would you want to? Maybe we should be like that with God. In fact, I’m pretty sure we should be like that with God since He told us to while He was on earth. More specifically, what if we were so busy thanking Him for our blessings, we forgot about our afflictions?

Instead of being upset about the poor parking choices…
What about being happy that you can walk?

Instead of complaining about heartburn or being overweight…
How about being thankful you are not starving?

Instead of grumbling about taxes…
Count the blessings you have been able to afford


Apathy: Lack of interest or concern, especially regarding matters of general importance or appeal; indifference.

I wish I did not have to go into how “not caring” makes us bad people… but I guess the fact that I do… kinda proves the point.

Here is an example from real life…

Uganda has had a 23 year long civil war between the government (GoU) and a militia army led by a false prophet (LRA). If a 23 year long civil war in the modern day was not enough, the LRA actually kidnaps children and uses them as soldiers. Two words for this…

F^(< ed up!

The TRUE Lord’s Army (us Christians) should have put an end to this long ago, and yet… it continues.

The Irish statesman Edmund Burke once said, “All that is necessary for the forces of evil to win in the world is for good men to do nothing”

And yet… it continues.

Why does evil continue?

Because WE (the children of God assigned the task of preventing the spread of evil) are too consumed with laziness to move, consumed with sadness to focus on good instead of evil, and to consumed with apathy causing us to be indifferent to the suffering of others in the world.

I myself am HIGHLY included in the above. Being a business major, I watch commercials avidly, but, I NEVER fail to change the channel whenever a “Compassion International” ad comes on.


Basically… evil continues… because we “can’t be bothered” to do anything about it.

The Seven Deadly Sins

As today is the last day before Holy Week starts, I thought I’d let you all know that this coming week, after much personal reflection; not just throughout this season of Lent, but also in all of my time here in Australia; I will be posting a series of blogs on the Seven Deadly sins of the Holy Roman Catholic Church.

Their meaning, how I see them acted out in the modern world, and my own level of involvement. I am telling you in advance this is coming not so that you may run from it, but to challenge you, to put yourself under the microscope. I’m not saying you have to announce your findings to the world, most of you won’t want to. I do think it is important to be honest with ourselves. I don’t have a problem sharing about myself, there is no classified information, and most of you see my hypocrisy in everyday life anyway, so it’s not as if any of it would be a big secret.

Why do this now I was asked earlier in the week? Well, a couple reasons… #1 Its Holy Week next week. #2 Having my hands in the soil, working by myself, I’ve had quite a bit of time to think about things. I feel closest to God in nature. There is a commercial on Aussie TV that has an Abo talking about going out into nature and how therapeutic it is, how when you go out into nature and go on a hike, you are giving Mother Nature a back rub. So, proximity to nature with plenty of time to think and of course the fact that it is Holy Week.

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, the day we as a people warmly greeted Joshua into Jerusalem only days before murdering him in one of the worst ways possible. A method of death SO painful, they had to make up a new word just to describe how painful it was (Excruciating: Ex = out of, crux = cross)

We sheeple suck.

I know I do… and this next week, I’ll prove it.

Water Bottle Old Friend…

Being in another country and continent in a different quadrant of the earth, there are many friends that I miss, but that is to be expected and I have a good valid reason for it. What I do NOT have a good valid reason for missing, is my water bottle.

Yes, I have done it again… I have overworked myself into sickness.
I have been a Lifeguard for 8+ years now. I have worked at a Boys Scout Summer camp for 7 years. I can identify the signs of hypothermia, heat exhaustion, fatigue, and… dehydration, in anyone by sight. Except for myself of course.

That is not entirely true, I noticed a couple days ago I was not performing at my peak, and my picking rate has slowed down since. Yesterday was not a fun time waking up, this morning however, even worse. While in the shower, I realized something…

I can’t remember the last time I peed clear.

It had to be some time a few days ago, I remember nearly passing out when I stood up a couple days ago in the field.

This sudden cold weather is playing tricks on me, making me believe I have more energy then I really do.

So, just like the “Powerthirst” commercial, mother nature is telling me “SSsslllllooooowwww down!”


Not happy with myself today for letting things come to this… but, I suppose that is the price of little water and sleep deprivation.

Corn!

Another day of working for Ray, but that’s not the really interesting part of my day.

To tell you today’s story… I must first take you back six years.

Summer of 2004.

I had graduated, I had been to Guam, Micronesia, Hawaii, and now, I was on my way to Iowa. The corn state of the nation.

Why go to Iowa?

I was the Lodge Chief for the local Lodge of the Order of the Arrow (OA), Scouting’s National Honor Society. Every two years, there is what is known as the National Order of the Arrow Conference (NOAC). The OA is a youth run organization, but there are “Advisers” to oversee the youth and make sure they don’t do anything illegal, so, you can imagine how important my adviser’s where when I was Lodge Chief. When we got to Iowa, I told the two advisers that went with us, “I want to run through the corn fields”

I can honestly say, I don’t know why the extreme desire to do so, I just know, I really really wanted to. Their reply:

“ummm… ya… about that… maybe if we have time… (freak)”

On the last day of the adventure, we were driving in two cars. My friend Ryan’s father Les driving the first, and one of my favorite advisers, the Alfred to my Batman, Wayne, driving the car I was in. We were driving towards the airport, and I called Les and said, “this is the LAST corn field on the way to the airport… PULL OVER!”

To my surprise, he does.

I tell Wayne, “QUICK pull over! He did it!”

So, as our car comes to a complete stop, Les guns it, and Wayne laughing, also follows suit. I get a call from Car 1 in which all I hear is laughter.
I never did get to run through a corn field on a farm…


Cut to today!


Ray and I had already done a couple tasks; it was toward the end of the day, he was being a corn mohel like we both were last week. I had just finished spraying some chemical that he had left over from spraying something else for weeds. So, I sat there, watching him mohel away at these corns, and as I see this pile of corn begin to get larger…

I have this flash back of being robbed of an adventuresome run 6 years earlier…
I also happened to have my camera in the car.

So, I grabbed my camera, and walked over to the front part of Ray’s farm.

Then…



Then I had to run back of course… (this time, with the camera being held above my head so you can see something)



I get back to Ray and tell him I went for a run,

“Good, you can use it”
“ya ya ya, I’ve been waiting 6 years for that run”
“What! That’s why your fat, not running in 6 years”
“no no no, you see…”

So I tell him the story…

“Go wash your hands”
“ummm, ok” (I rinse off my hands with the hose, then I notice a slight itch on my neck – I of course scratch)
“you took a video of it?”
“Ya”
“let me see”
(I start scratching more as he watches)
“Bloody hell mate! You should have said something, so that your scout friends knew it was really you”
“ya, I suppose your right”
“how’s your skin?”
“umm… really really itchy now that you mention it”
“Ya, about that, 'member that chemical I just had you spray?”
“ya…”
“the one I told you ‘DON’T get it on you’”
“ummm… ya…”
“Where do you think I sprayed that first part?”
“Oh… F^(<”
“Ya, you’d better get yourself home and wash off, I’ll see ya Monday, go on git!”

I nearly ripped open my own neck scratching away at that itch. Nearly gave myself a new scar going down my sternum beginning at my “Pereira Spot”. And, my eyes of course… oh… my beautiful eyes… RED, RED like they were starring in a “Clear Eyes” commercial with Ben Stein. After a nice long very warm shower, I’m fine. Only thing

I’m scratching at is one of my 237 mozzie bites.


But you know what… after a 6 year wait...

Totally worth it!

Edward 67 – Sheep 3

Dirty Job #10

A day with sheep.

Normally, they would take the cute lil tiny lambs, and do all the stuff we did today to them.

Procrastination, really does add more work later.

You see, they procrastinated, and so, these where not “lil tiny” lambs. These… were more like, “look at me, I’m almost as big as momma!”

To answer the main question right off the bat, thankfully, there was NO de-balling today. There was a bit of blood however. Michael had me thinking that I was going to be walking into a blood bath worthy of Kali! Psh… twas nothing… almost.

I get picked up by the guy I’m working for, and then we headed to the fruit shack to pick up a German backpacker. We drive to where the sheep are. A much more successful attempt at sheparding than the last time I tried.

We set up this maze for the sheep to be scared through, and then, we start segregating them to where we want them to be.

Then came the “fun” part. Our task of the day was to take the “lambs” pick them up, take them over to a work station where their tails would then be rubber banded for amputation, they would be vaccinated, their ear would be tagged, and then the opposite ear would have a notch cut into it at the top as the mark of the rancher.
Me and “Hans” got to pick up the sheep, and hold them steady while all 4 of these painful things happen to them. This is where the blood comes into play.
The second lamb… I happen to be in the middle of saying something as the guy we were working for’s dad went to punch the notch into the lamb’s right ear. I happen to be holding it on the right side. As my mouth happen to be open due to my need to speak at that exact moment, I just so happen to get a taste of freshly extracted and squirted lamb’s blood.

Yummy…


The rest of the day I chose my moments to speak much more carefully. I also made it a point to look away with my eyes closed every time an ear on my side was getting cut.
The rest of that process went by fairly “routine” with the exception of course of the fact that these “lambs” where HUGE and not young lil cute ones.

All the new one’s having been completed. We went on to deal with all the momma sheep. To them we gave the vaccination and this stuff to wipe out any worms that they might have. This does of course involve stabbing them in the face with a large needle, which they don’t like, and shoving an over grown squirt gun down their mouth, which, they are also not to fond of. We herded them to where we wanted them. Then we led them small group by small group at a time threw this narrow area where we could “easily” vaccinate and medicate them. At one point however, one jump the fence without it’s treatment. It was spotted however, so that made it easy to point out in the crowd. So I, the great warrior and hunter, with all my predator like instincts… ran it down and tackled it to the ground and restrained it till the others came and did what they had to do. That was not the only time I did that however. My predator like abilities also tackled two rams that needed to go into another pen.

This is where the 3 points for the sheep come into play though.

Point 1 went to the lamb who swung it’s head back at me and hit me in the face.

Point 2 went to the second ram that I captured. When I was about to throw him over the fence, not all 4 legs made it quite to the other side. As the others tried to warn me of the sneaky right hind leg, it was too late, and I took a bit of a kick to my right kidney region, no scratch, and no visible bruise.

Point 3, as I was closing a fence, the sheep where rebelling and managed to knock down a barricade that was in between the sheep, and the back of my right leg. I prevented the escape, but the back of my right leg had to pay for it.

Besides those 3 though… I pretty much dominated them the rest of the day. Who knew that my black belt would come in handy when it came to restraining sheep though.
I am happy to report, I did not get peed on, nor did my boots get poopy. In fact; besides the blood in my mouth and the bit that ended up on a little section of my jeans it was a good day in terms of stuff from inside the sheep getting on us.

Tomorrow, I return to Ray and his farm. His farm, without sheep. It will be good to be back.

There Will Be Blood?

No Irish blood apparently means no luck today.

Nothing very eventful happened today, being English and being to poor for beer, today was just another day. And no Dave… no corn beef tonight in case you were wondering.

Tomorrow however... might be a bit of a different story.

You see, while Ray and I were out in the field this evening, at about 7 pm, Michael “my handler” (aka “my pimp”) texted me.

“Hi, do you want a job tomorrow marking lambs @ 9am start for 5 hours!”

I think about it for a bit, I tell Ray that I just got a text and what it said, and he says, “well, don’t be a fool boy, take the money!”
“well, don’t you need this done?”
“ya… it can wait till Friday. Only gonna be one day right?”
“ya, I think so”
“go for it, finish the rest of this up on Friday”

So, like the “good Wog boy" I am I listen to what my boss says, and text my handler back,
“Ok. How much and where to?”
“$10 an hour cash for ---- ---- and he will pick you up!”
“sweet deal”
“Thank you!”

So, I tell Ray this, cause he asked what the reply was.
“$10 an hour marking sheep! F^(kin hell… shit, you are better off staying here tomorrow after all”
“What do you mean?”
“you’re not going to like it”
“umm… uuhhhh… re – really?”
“you said ‘marking lambs’ right?”
“ya”
“oh sure… taking a texter (sharpie) to those lambs is a LOT of fun (insert evil laugh here)”

So, right about now… I gets to thinking back to some stories Andrew has shared with me about his experience with sheep. And I text Michael back:
“Ray is laughing at me. When u say mark, im assuming u don’t mean a texter. Am I doing what no man would want done?”

Then… there is an extended period of time before I get a reply text from Michael. And the response is simply this:
“Yep! It will look good on your resume! Chris will come by 9 am so wait on the road so he can see you.
There will be blood, enjoy!”


Then I get to come home and tell the family about the coming adventure tomorrow…

While eating dinner, Paul chooses to enlighten me on how de-balling use to be done before the rubber band method I’ll most likely be doing tomorrow.


F… M… L…



oh well, Happy St. Patrick's Day i'm going to watch Boondock Saints to take my mind off the horror that awaits me...

Orange Cupcake

Is it an Orange? Is it a cupcake?

So when I was picking oranges, I thought I’d be awesome, and with there being 6 people in this house hold, I’d jack a bunch of oranges and bring some home right. Well, we’ve been slowly working away at them, and have now narrowed the herd down to just half a fridge drawer full.

I decided to whip out some ol’ Boy Scout knowledge, so… those of you who have served with me in the past and remember this technique, feel free to skip, for those who want to learn continue on…

One of my old Advisers and I were doing a cooking demonstration for cub scouts in which we taught some cool little camp out tricks (like boiling an egg in a paper cup). The orange cupcake was one of the things we taught. I’d been wanting to show Adam how to do it for awhile now (since I brought the oranges home) but as busy as my days are here… just never got around to it. And so, while the family was at basketball tonight and I was home doing laundry, I figured I’d just do it and explain the process later. This is great for kids especially while camping, it’s ok to do a trial run by yourself first (in fact, that’s kind of what tonight was about to make sure I remember)

What you need:
*Oranges
*Vanilla (can use orange also, but it might be a bit much) dry cake mix
*Cutting utensil
*Cutting surface
*Backing pan (indoors) OR still hot coals (outdoors)





Step 1:


Slice all the oranges you are going to use in half preferably like the equator (and not like the international date line).



If a slice has seeds, no worries, it won’t make too much of a difference later on.


Step 2:

With a small spoon, begin scooping out the innards of the orange.



Feel free to leave as much juice in the remaining bowl as possible.



You do not have to perfectly get ALL of the orange out, but, it is somewhat preferred later on during the eating process. I happen to be a bit CDO (like OCD, but in alphabetical order like it should be) when it comes to cleaning the gunk out of stuff, so I take everything out if I can. BUT SAVE THE INNARDS! We need that juice remember.



Be very careful however while doing this process. Remember that these skin bowls need to keep structural integrity, a tiny crack near the edge might be alright, but anything more than this mess up would be highly unadvisable:




Step 3:



Ok, remember that package of Vanilla cake mix we discussed earlier? Ya, time to open it. I thought of this in hind sight (too late to help myself) but feel free to pour the mix into a bowl, it will make life easier if you are dealing with a group of kids to just take a spoonful or so out like that than to reach in and out of a plastic bag in a box.

If being cute and dealing with kids (or just being very detailed) you will take two good sized small spoonfuls (or one big spoon full) of the cake mix and dump it into an orange bowl.




Step 4:

After all the bowls have been powdered, add orange juice as needed back into the bowl. Start with just a bit, remember, you can always add more powder if you need to. You might want to stir with either the small end of a spoon handle or a chopstick, a full on spoon might be a bit large, and send the batter flying various directions as opposed to mixing it just right.



I can guarantee you won’t get the batter right on the first go, so just have some fun with it. Add as much mix and juice as need be until it is just the way you need it to be. Also remember, things like cake expand, so don’t get to carried away with adding.



If you happen to be just cheating because you are doing such a vast number, feel free to follow the batter recipe on the box of whatever brand you are using in a bowl on the side, substituting orange juice for whatever liquid they want you to use and then pour the batter back into the cups (only for indoors, while camping this way is much more fun)


Step 5:



You should now have all the oranges mixed just right. If you are doing this indoors with an oven, than you should have preheated it to about 190 C or 370 F. I baked these for about 16 minutes, but that might have been able to be in for another minute or so. Just depends on how you like your cake. If you are doing this out doors or camping, you can use a grill or camp fire bit but only with warm coals, not a raging fire. A Dutch oven may also be used in this situation, but that is almost like saying the Pope is Catholic, a Dutch oven can be used in just about any camp food situation.




Step 6:

Take either out of the oven or off the coals. Let cool. Enjoy.



If you happen to have frosting or anything of the sort, feel free to add. An added treat might be coloring vanilla frosting orange and making the appearance that it is just a deformed orange as opposed to a cupcake in an orange. I didn’t have that much frosting, nor was I plentiful on patience tonight, so I didn’t do it, but I did personalize them with the first letter of our name.







Hope you and any kids you are dealing with have fun doing this, but please for the love of all that is good and pure, remember not to let and of the dumb/clumsy ones do the cutting of the orange or the taking in/out of the oven without proper supervision.

That’s just bad form.

Ava Caesar!

Ya’lls need to read some more Shakespeare.

I do highly appreciate the concern to my back muscles though, just to get that out of the way. It feels WAY better than it did a few days ago. The back references where not in reference to that though.

As further proof of my extreme ego… for years, I’ve had this feeling that I’ll either die on the ides of March (or beginning of December).

I do NOT know why.

Just cause GJC was killed on this day… means nothing to me right?

I mean, the prophecy was just in the book that might or might not have been written by “William”

Anyway…

The risk of death aside, this is MY row of string beans:



This is what I spend my day with picking away like a Mexican



Oh what fun! This row of string beans seems to be the greatest threat to my back, and not the daggers of angry senators.

Some good is coming out of all this Mexican experience; I have a new found respect towards vegetables.

Casa MD

For those unaware… “Casa” is the Spanish word for “House”.

Yes! A double blog day!

WHY!?

Well, I forgot to mention it earlier…

The list of things separating me from my favorite TV show is dwindling by one more…

The list originally consisting of:
*A belief in God
*A medical degree
*A perfectly fine right leg
*I can’t play the guitar, piano, or anything but the iPod (and I struggle with some of them)

So what are the similiarties?
*I lose friends to my honest
*When it comes to other people I’m always right (when it comes to myself… not so much)
*Uber arrogant and cocky and prideful (and am ok with it)
*I not so secretly have a thing for a beautiful woman with a Jewish background (not race, beliefs)
*I have a best friend who enables me and not only lets, but also helps me get away with a lot of shit. Except I make sure mine knows he is appreciated and loved (isn’t that right Andrew)

Ok, I’m not going any further before I incriminate myself…

The important thing is this…

My right leg, is now, home to my bad hip joint.

Because, it wasn’t enough in High school, for it to have my bad ankle. It was not enough for it in early college to be home to my bad knee. And it has never had enough problems being the leg with more muscle pains and cramps than the other.

No no no…

Now; it feels the need, to hurt where the femoral head meets the acetabulum of the Ilium

Or for those who need something in English:

“…the leg bone connects to the… HIP bone…”



Oh I wish it was the musical instrument or medical degree thing…

Dirty Job #9

Really, twas just a continuation of Dirty Jobs 5 and 8. Today I started out harvesting string beans in the morning, but then moved on to just becoming a general farm hand.

I started the day about 8:30 in the morning, which was almost on time. String beans grow on vine like plants low to the ground, so basically, yes; I’m bending down like a Mexican getting strawberries. I have a new farmer tan (any scout friends, yes, its equivalent to “Viper’s”, almost worse).

Then there was lunch, I almost just had the pb+j I brown bagged from home for lunch, but Ray’s gf happened to be making pasta, and Ray said, “whatcha gonna go on lunch for, just wait a few minutes, and have lunch with me, we’re having pasta”. Twas good, the Italian fest continued. Now, I don’t like olives, but Ray, believing that every good Italian boy should like olives, before I could even say “no thanks” decided to dump a third of a bowl on my plate… guess who got to eat a whole pile of olives today…

We spent a good portion of the day brain storming, planning, scheming, and strategerizing a new business, yes, I’m talking about the one that he offered to be partners in earlier, I think I’m going to take him up on it. Apparently though, he was thinking of having his family do the physical work, and I’d market it overseas (especially to military families). In other words, I might go to one of the father-lands and home of the greatest empire of the world this summer (don’t worry Mims, you’ll still have the boot all to yourself, if it happens, it won’t happen till August).

After lunch, we went back to work packaging the freshly picked string beans, and then… there was a visit from my “Rachel” (reference to yesterday’s blog “I could be a Jacob…”)

Sigh…

During lunch, I found out she isn’t married, and suddenly, a faint bit of hope arose within me.

Then there was more work, picked/buddled a variety of other vegetables. Then, towards the end of the day as we where washing everything and prepping it all for Ray to go to the market tomorrow, I became a mohel for corn.

A mohel (pronounce moy-el) is a Jewish man specially trained in the art of circumcision.

How did I become a corn mohel? Very glad you asked. Ray likes his corn to look good, and so, I went through an entire bin of freshly picked corn, and cut the tip off of them.

Then, as the day was finishing, my “Rachel” returned once more, however, she brought my competition for her heart, yes, her boyfriend. I believe he has a slight advantage over me however in the fact that he also happens to be the father of her kids that I mentioned earlier.

Sigh… Fail…

Anyway; hard work aside, today was a really good day. Ray gives my Italian skills a lot of credit, a lot more than I give them that’s for sure. He tells all his family that swings by to talk Italian to me, and emphasizes the .000003% Italian blood that I might maybe have. It is neat though. When his daughter (my “Rachel”) came back 6 hours later she said, “wow, your still here helping my dad!” at this point, I was about to make a move, until the massive guy walking behind her came up. So I just smiled and nodded, her reply, “you seem like a good hard worker”, Ray stepped in,
“ah, he’s a real good Woggy boy”.

Oh, if I forgot to mention it earlier, they call Italian immigrants (specifically farm hands) “Wogs” (and “Dagos” and “Wops”). So, right around 8:15, we finished working, yes... nearly 12 hours after starting. That's alright though, why?

I like working with Ray, and from the sound of it, I’ll pretty much be finishing up my time in Leeton working with Ray.


Bona Note Amici.

I Could be a Jacob…

NO BAKERSFIELD NURSE CLUB…

I AM NOT REFERENCING TWILIGHT!

I am talking about the Bible. The real one…

Dirty Job #8

Today I did some errands, and went back to Ray the Plum guy. Last time I had worked with him, he mentioned a project when the weather cooled down, well, that time is now, and I need money. So I go over and talk to him, and apparently (this is where Jacob comes into play) Ray has una filia multo bella. Translation: he has a very beautiful daughter. This is the same guy who also offered me the chance to live in Calabria on some of his family’s property as a business partner.

For those who don’t know what I’m talking about when I bring up a Jacob from a book that doesn’t involve being a werewolf and fighting vampires in Washington… I turn once again to Wikipedia:

“Arriving in Haran, Jacob saw a well where the shepherds were gathering their flocks to water them, and met Laban's younger daughter Rachel, Jacob's first cousin; she was working as a shepherdess. He loved her immediately, and after spending a month with his relatives, asked for her hand in marriage in return for working seven years for Laban.”

And so… as I worked my way down the row of string beans, I thought of myself and this lovely Italian beauty, raising my employer’s grandchildren on a beautiful plot of land at the tip of the boot (Reggio Di Calabria – GoogleMap it if you have to) overlooking a river that passes right by the house and of course Sicily on the distant horizon.

Aaaahhhhhhh…

As it turns out however, Ray has grandchildren already. Contrary to what I believed when I first met her, she would not be classified as a “panther” had it happened (a woman who is within 5 or so years difference of a younger man) she would in fact be full on “cougar” status.

So, that wasn’t exactly my great news of the day, what was my great news of the day is the fact that I will have work for at least a week at a steady and consistent rate of pay. Also, Ray agreed to practice Italian with me, which I pretty much could use some work on. I am getting practice though which is good.

I also hardly had any headache today, the little bit of the one that I did have was cured shortly after drinking my Pepsi ration of the day however…

Losses and Victories. The story of every day really. Today also I found out through Myspace.com happens to be my 100th day since leaving California. I’m not gonna lie… I could go for a either a tri tip sandwich or a carne asada burrito. Jan’s pasta tonight though was still quite an excellent way of ending my very Italian filled day.


Bona Note Amici (good night friends)

You Know…

…We fought the redcoats to avoid this stress.

Good news first.

My parents have decided that they would like an Australian adventure of their own. They get here at the end of April, and go back the day I’m supposed to. So assuming I don’t get my ticket extended, we’ll go home the same day (how nice and family like).

This does of course mean…

GREAT BARRIER REEF!!!

Hurray for Capt. Dave!

So, yes, you could say I’m a bit excited at fulfilling my dream of diving in the GBR.



But now… the thing at the forefront of my mind for the day.

Today I did one of the only things we can be certain of in life. I’m alive to tell you about it, so by process of elimination… yes, I did my taxes.

I wouldn’t have minded so much except for the fact that I nearly tore my room apart looking for my W-2 freaking out that I didn’t pack it.

Then the epiphany moment. I left at the beginning of December, of course I didn’t pack it. So, Jan having a much better memory than me, staved off my potential panic attack by saving my paperwork from being lost forever. You see, it happened to be in the same envelop as my new driver’s license.

Sigh… what a reh-tah-d

I also realized something today…

In a way, EVERY American, is a molestation victim, because our Uncle Sam rapes us every year.

I believe in taxes, to a certain extent. Most of you know that I am registered a Republican, I primarily vote on the conservative side, and yes, Ronald Reagan is my hero. When I run for President, it will be, as a Republican, due to my belief of it being the lesser of two evils. So, I am definitely not one of those crazy-ass Tea Party people.

I will say this though;

WTF Washington!!!

I am fine with paying to make our Military the best in the world, and I’m fine with paying to make our schools the best in the world. But hand outs, and useless spending?!

Here is a clip from a favorite movie of mine (“Dave” starring Kevin Klein)




Sigh…

And yes, I am a flat tax person, and yes, I’ve heard the argument that it favors the rich, but you know what, we should all try to become that, so doesn’t it give you an extra carrot to chase.

Anyway… Julie F. you are like totally my hero of the week by the way, I love you and your immeasurable help that you give me year after year.


OH!

In other news, apparently Autumn comes in the form of a small hurricane that lasts a half week, and you forget what summer was like. Aaahhhhh 20 degree days again… just like on the Central Coast. I never realized how cold 20 C was until I’ve lived 35-40 C on a regular basis.

So spoiled growing up on the Central Coast…

Apparently I’m an addict

I failed.



This was the start of week 2 of my third trimester in my detoxification process. Monday, today, was suppose to be my very first day without a Pepsi.
This is the second time that I’ve messed up my daily ration. The problem is, I was not suppose to have ANY this time!


Not only that, my headaches are getting worse and worse. AND NO! I will not just use Aleve, Tylenol, or Ibuprofen to get rid of the headaches, because then I’ll just become an addict to something else.


Today, I was sitting alone while the family was in Narrandera, and I had this TERRIBLE headache like one wouldn’t believe. I got up, went to the fridge. Pulled out a Pepsi, came back to my laptop, and drank. Within 5 minutes… my headache was completely gone.


Which, kind of proves to me how dependent I apparently am…






Sigh…

Raphael is cool…

…but rude.




If you have not yet, go back two months, and read my tribute to my good friend Phil. I’ll even make it easy for you:

http://eabelton.blogspot.com/2010/01/michelangelo-is-party-dude.html




It’s ok… I’ll wait…
…
…
…


Done yet? … well then hurry up…
…
…
…


OK, so… as I was saying, two months have gone by, and the saga continues…
I referred to “The Separation Years of the Turles”. Well, you see, Isaac Miller Elementary school had these “tracks” and they where supposedly fair and equal right… my ass.

You see, A track, had all the REALLY white kids (and for some reason the only 3 black kids). B track had white kids, and white-ish Mexicans. C track had Mexicans and mexicany white kids. And then… there was D track, Mexicans… an ALL brown track. Keep in mind though, this wasn’t racist. Well, the four of us met in D track. Anyone that takes a look at Val, well, no duh D track, and Phil, well, his personality puts him in D track, and… by looks alone, I might have been able to pull off C track. Luke… Whitey McWhiteWhite he could be used as a reflector at night. The school realized this mistake about 3rd grade. Luke disappeared to A track. Then, Phil moved to a different school.

We were not very good planners back then, and Facebook was not in existence (plus we where only like 8) and so, for some reason, none of us really exchanged each other’s numbers. Phil knew mine, I knew my own… but, looking back on it, I don’t even know if I knew Val’s phone number until about 9th grade cause we saw each other so much. Well, all this led to, not one of us having Luke’s number, nor him having ours, so, when A track and D track did not line up, he didn’t exist, nor did we to him. Sad to say, and I regret the time lost, but, that’s what happened. Then, Phil moved away, and it wasn’t convenient for us to hang out with him anymore. We talked to each other like on holidays, and each other’s birthdays, occasionally see each other over break. Then after graduation, he moved to the LA empire, and just when I thought we’d be reunited, he left. Lucky for us, the LA empire didn’t work out for him like he hoped, and he returned to the Central Coast. Val and I were so happy to have our friend back. Then a new semester at college started, and on the first day of my Astronomy class, I saw this skinny white guy who looked REALLY familiar walk in. Turns out… it was Luke. I wasn’t waisting another chance, we exchanged contact information right on the spot, I called up Val and Phil, and reunited us! From 4th grade until about four years ago, we were separated. We had no Luke, and we where only lucky to have Phil around every once and awhile, and so, that’s how “The Separation Years” started and ended.

Well during those years… it was just down to me and Val in D track. Even when we weren’t in the same class, we still had the same lunch break and recess to catch up. PLUS, like I mentioned before, our single Mom’s where both friends, so the two of them tag teamed raised us. On holiday’s I’d go spend the mornings with Val while my mother worked, weekends where the only time me and him didn’t see each other. Then, in 6th grade, he was going to go to Valley Christian Academy, sure, if I had gone to one of the other High Schools, I’d run into one of the other guys, but the last two years have been about Val, so, why risk it, at VCA, I KNEW I’d be near him, because the place is so small. So, Val left Miller a semester early, I held out till the end. Making me, the only Turtle to START D track in kinder, and END D track at 6th grade graduation. I joined Val at VCA on the first day of 7th grade. It was not what I expected it to be. Jr. High, if not for Val, would have been, a completely useless time in my life. In fact, to this day, I don’t remember much of it, because of how many memories I’ve purposely regressed into the back of my mind. Pretty much… a combination between Scouts and Val kept me from trying to put an end to it all. This is the same time period when my mistrust in “christians” began.

2010 marks my, Val, and Luke’s 20th anniversary. The thing is… out of 20 years, for nearly half of that, it was only me and Val. Sometimes it seems like Val and I have an unfair advantage in our foursome friendship. Truth is, we do. We weren’t a team for almost half the time that the four of us have known each other. For half that time, it has been a partnership. He and I have had 10 years worth of adventures together. Riding dirt bikes near his apartments, learning different swim techniques in the pool, and all sorts of other fun things that usually ended with one of us (usually me) hurting ourselves.

Together he and I learned about life, survived temporarily losing our other 2 best friends, and when his appendix blew up in sixth grade, I spent every minute that I was allowed to at his bedside until he recovered. Then he did, and we went on to Jr. High together, and then covered each other’s back during High School. I went on his first “double” date with his wife. Despite differences, fights, and arguments that allowed us to slightly drift apart in High School, we still had the same schedule and classes during our first year in college.

Now we are “grownups”. He was the first of our team to complete his Bachelors degree and he was the second one to expand our family by getting married. Now, he is preparing to buy his first house with his beautiful wife Deanna. The great part about when Val expanded our “turtle family” is, he has a good problem to have, unlike most guys, he can’t really make Mother-in-law jokes. Why? Cause he actually has a pretty awesome Family-in-law. When you look at the quality of people that make up his Family-in-law, it’s really no wonder how great his wife turned out. And when you know how great of wife he has, you realize, why he is so happy in life. I’ve been replaced as number one partner, but, it’s a replacement that is perfectly fine with me. If I have to be #2 (technically #3, but if you’re not counting God in all this), I’m really glad that it’s to Deanna.

Ya know… When I first started writing this blog, I thought, psh, Val, ya, no problem, I could write about the last 20 years of my life no problem. But, now that my hands are on the keyboard I realize… how exactly am I suppose to put into words the bond that he and I have? I mean, this is someone who I’ve grown mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually with for over 4/5ths of my life. I can’t really write about him without making it sound like I’m talking about myself, and if he were to take the time to really give it enough thought, I’m sure he’d come to the same conclusion about me.

Now, two months ago, when writing about our dear friend Phil, it was easy finding a light hearted video that compared Phil to Michelangelo, but, I’ve found it surprisingly harder to find one that compares Val to Raphael, because what really makes Val Raphael, is Raphael’s relationship to Leonardo, and vice versa. So, being home with a hurt back and plenty of rain to keep me indoors, I figured, forget depending on YouTube. Instead, I just put my own together.

Pictures do better than words, I’m sure video does better than pictures. The following is a Hollywood look at our friendship. Starting with our youth, going on adventures like Indiana Jones (“Without a Paddle”). To an example of how we use to fight and get over it in no time. To how I felt the day that Val felt better from his Appendix blowing up. Then, how he probably felt (and feels) when he first started dating and when I act my stong willed self. The ONLY thing that would make the City Slickers reference more accurate, is if Billy Crystal’s character was named “Val”, because the other two are “Ed(ward) & Phil”. To those that are wondering… YES I do want to run with the bulls, and YES, I am trying to rope them into it also.


It has been a great 20 years, ups and downs yes, but, totally worth it, and I’m looking forward to the next 20, and the 20 after that, don’t know if I’m looking forward to the 4th set of 20 though, cause, we’ll really be up there in years by that point, but, se la vi.







Happy Birthday Val, I philos you, and miss you.

Me = Still a Bad Catholic

OH my back.

Been home, being useless the last few days. Hate it. The being home part and not working isn’t bad, it’s the feeling of uselessness I don’t like. So, I kinda cleaned the bathroom, de-trashed the car, and did the dishes.

Sadly… that’s about it.

I’m getting headaches with more and more frequency now. As soon as I drink a Pepsi, one goes away, but then I get another hours later. This week is my first week where I will have a day without Pepsi completely. I chose Mondays as my descalation day, why? Simple. Mondays suck.

Yesterday was nice though, I Skyped my parents while they had my stepdad’s birthday party going on, so I got to be a floating head virtually crashing the party.
Going back to the title.

I slept through my alarm. Purposely.

Other than that though, I haven’t skipped any other Lent commitments.

I miss the Estonians…

Operation Nova Aquila Update 3

For those who don’t know, that is what I have decided to name my time here in Australia. Three months of my time having been here complete, it’s time for another update.

Objective 1 (Lose weight): Well, since my one year anniversary of weight loss (starting Feb 15, 2009) I’ve lost 10 inches off my waist. Since then however… no losses off my waist in the last two weeks or so; though my neck is now officially what it was in High School, and I look like all the other Italian’s in Griffith with my Father’s gold chain that I haven’t been able to comfortably wear in a few years.

Objective 2 (Find job): Been busy all month, picking plums, oranges, and working at the grain storage facility. There are still Grapes next week whenever my back feels better from hurting it at work.

Objective 3 (Get Ripped like Jesus): Though it is dependent on Objective 1, I can now actually poke my belly, and below the layer of fat feel a fairly firm set of abs developing. I can’t wait to uncover them!

Objective 4 (Save Money): Dependant on Objective 2, but, also seems to be going on course.

Objective 5 (House Makeover): The shipping containers are 100 percent. “The Swamp” as it has been nicknamed due to Paul’s love of the classic gem of television “MASH” looks quite awesome. Complete with band area, lounge section, Exercise corner, and pool/air hockey table.

Objective 6 (Quit Pepsico Addiction): In the LAST trimester! In the time I have been working on it, I have only slipped once and taken one extra Pepsi then my daily ration. The last trimester though I think I am reverting back to one a week. I was hoping to finish early by taking two a week away, but, the other day I had a terrible withdrawal headache, so, maybe I’m not totally ready to be off.

Objective 7 (Learn new life lessons): I think I am allergic to hay/straw. Also, I am incredibly selfish.

Objective 8 (See all states/territories of Aus): The Estonian’s and I are considering renting a van in mid June and road tripping to Darwin and Perth via Alice Springs so that we can all see the remaining states that we have yet to go to.

Objective 9 (Re-learn how to ride a motorcycle): No sign of a working motorcycle. This is something that I am fine waiting till I return to do, but, I’d still like to get it out the way down here.

Objective 10 (Drive manual left handed): Had another go at it, on actual streets! I only stalled a few times. Still a laughable attempt, but Paul and I survived it.

Objective 11 (Dive in GBR): Need money, that’s it, the moment I have the money, I’m going diving. EVERY SCUBA diver, who knows about the Great Barrier Reef, wants to go diving in it, and here I am, so close, and yet penniless (quite literally, Australia has no $.01 piece).

Objective 12 (See one other country): Same as Objective 11, just need the money.

Objective 13 (Learn Estonian): I have learned a few more things since last time, but not much, and it will be even harder now that they have moved to Griffith.

At this time, having completed my third update of Operation Nova Aquila, I’d like to share with you some words by the great (American) Football coach, Vince Lombardi who once said,

“Leaders aren’t born, they are made. And they are made just like anything else, through hard work. And that’s the price we’ll have to pay to achieve that goal, or any goal.”

The Men on the Moon

(Side note: Video not completely related to the following blog, it kind of is in the sense that I want to go into the Navy, love the ocean, my nickname for my Stepdad Dave is “Capt. Dave”, and his dad was also in the Navy, the main reason for it is, listening to this song – and Jimmy Buffett in general – reminds me of Capt. Dave, and therefore I thought would make for some good background music as you read, after all, I was listening to Jimmy Buffett songs when I wrote it)

No, I’m not talking about the Apollo missions. This is actually the title I’m considering for the book of wisdom imparted on me by the various male influences in my life. Scout Advisers, Scoutmasters, Church Elders, guy friends of the family like Ed. Then of course, the two largest sections of the book would go to the two men in my life who hold the title of “Dad”.

Which brings me back to, how did I come up with this title? Well, for years, when I looked upon the full moon, I could see the chubby face of a sneaky grinned man with an Italian sized nose, and, it reminds me of my Father. It is of course natural to think of looking up at the sky when a young child has lost someone close to them, especially with all the references to Heaven being “up”, and so, looking into the night sky and seeing “the kings of the past” as Mufasa said to Simba (side note, playing the “Lion King” in class to 2nd graders would be totally fine if it wasn’t for the fact that one of the kids in the class had just lost his father), and seeing the chubby face of a smiling man with a big nose, I would of course think of my Father. Well, a few years would pass, and my mother’s, at the time, boyfriend Dave told me his version. If you look at the moon, there is an old skinny cowboy bent over his camp fire holding out his skillet to cook his meal. Ever since then, I’ve had these two images in my mind whenever I see the full moon. Contrary to what one might think, they actually are not contradictory; both images have to be seen with your head tilted to one side or the other, so it really just depends on the tilt.

Growing up not really knowing my blood father was kind of hard on me in the not knowing about my family and/or genetics, but I can’t say I was ever really alone, in part because I was raised in the Indian (feather not dot) sense that it takes a village, and my Mother had help from God, friends, church and scout leaders. Most of all however, above all other earthly help; she had my step dad Dave. I’ve always liked Dave. In high school when I was maturing, some words of wisdom would piss me off, but that just means he was doing his job right.

As I look back on it, it seems like a lot of hard work being a step parent. I mean, being a parent seems bad enough, but at least you have the blood advantage. My mother had a rough time with me, loving me even when I was hard to love, and I came out of her. I have two friends who are, or are going to become a single mother in the extremely near future, and I think of their sons, could I raise them as my own? The answer I’ve come to realize is, and I feel like a horrible human being for saying so, I honestly don’t think I could. There are two big differences though, #1, I’m not interested in their moms like that, nor are they at all interested in return, I don’t have a lot of motivation seeing as I don’t have a romantic interest in the above mentioned moms, Dave liking me helped out with the whole “having a cute Latina girlfriend”. I know that him liking me was not the only criteria, but I definitely know that a man’s ability to tolerate me was a very important standard for one of my mother’s suitors to meet. #2, the big thing is, their fathers are assholes. That was one advantage I had growing up; I could always remind myself that my father wasn’t there because of death, not because of divorce or abandonment.

Growing up, like in any other relationship, there was an almost unspoken social contract between Dave and I (like the vocab Prof. Auten?). I’ve never really brought up the topic of my father much; never saw a need to really, why? Because I never thought of myself as fatherless, simple. I had Dave. I never really called him “dad” much, but when introduced at a party as “Dave and Ana’s boy” I never hesitated at all to be identified as his son. Though not by blood, and not legally until a couple years ago, I was, and am his son.

Sure there are differences; one dad was an officer, the other enlisted, one of English ancestry, the other of Scottish, one a bit more white collar, and the other a bit more blue collar. And yes, I would very much like to know my genetic ancestry a bit more, it is something that somewhat plagues and bothers me knowing that my blood father did do genealogical research, and yet, I have no record of his findings, I’ll be honest, that’s totally frustrating. Differences aside… there are two very important things that both men have in common.

*They both love(d) my mother enough to spend the rest of their life with her.
*They both love(d) me, and have made me the man I am today.
*bonus third similarity: both fought the communist when they were in the military.

I’m not saying I could never be a step-dad, I am saying, I see it as a very difficult role to fill. I am saying it’s a hard balance, love a child like your own even if by some technicality they might not be; that’s not even mentioning the perfect balance between being a parent, friend, and mentor. The thing that makes me doubt how good of a step-dad I could ever be to someone else the most, is how great of a job Dave has done with me. That is quite a high standard set.

Looking at my two dads and me, I often think I might make for a good psychological case study as to Nature vs. Nurture. Ya, I want to be an Officer someday, but I want to have a real job as an Enlisted man first. So, who has more influence? When you look at the building blocks that make up my life, my blood father laid out the foundation no doubt, and genetically speaking, left me with quite a few tools…

BUT!

…it was DAVE who taught me how to use the tools that I have to make me into the man that I am today. Yes, I had a LOT of Advisers and Scoutmasters who gave me good advice and helped me learn, but, at the end of the day, when the meeting or function was over, it was Dave giving me a ride home who I talked things over with, and it was Dave who I had most of the late night talks that help me decide what decisions to make.

My blood father gave me an appreciation for water (like the ocean)…
(Capt.) Dave was the one who taught me how to truly respect it, by teaching me how to really go out there and enjoy it’s beauty with kayaking and snorkeling.

My blood father was the one who had me believe MacGyver was an Eagle Scout…
Dave was the one who helped me become one myself.

My father made me want to learn as many languages as possible…
Dave is the one who taught me to want to say something meaningful in whatever language I speak.

Should God ever decide to bless me with two sons (this is upon the assumption I still see myself a fit enough of a fool to still marry) there is not a chance that I dare punish the second one by naming it “Leslie Francis II”, on the other hand, it seems like I know about 20 million other “David’s”. That’s kind of why, should the situation ever present itself that I have to come up with a name for a second son, I’m sort of leaning toward “Gerald David Belton”, but hey, that’s all (very) distant future talk (sorry Mom). Back to the here and now.

Dave is my dad, whether I have the same blood or last name or not. His sister and brother-in-law are my Tia and Tio, his nieces are my cousins, his parents where/are more my grandparents than my own father’s where.

I can go on and on about the things my dads have taught me, but that would kinda ruin the concept of the book I’m planning to write. I can also see how all this can quite easily be misinterpreted as a compare and contrast between the man who my mother happened to meet and marry first and then provided me with half of my genetic make-up…


…and the man that finished the job that he started.

But it isn’t.

It’s a tribute to the man who unconditionally loved me and spent the time and energy to help my mother look after me and raise me as his own son. It is also me publically saying thank you, and I love you for it.





Happy Birthday Dave

Hay is for Horses!

They can keep it…

Dirty Job #7: Filling bags of straw and loading them onto a pallet.

I learned a couple things yesterday.
*25 kg (55 lbs) is a LOT heavier then I remember it was
*My stepdad was right, when all else fails, grab a broom and sweep
*I very well could be allergic to straw

So, Markus left for Griffith yesterday also, and two of the Griffith Estonians left for the coast. Leeton is (as far as I know) Estonian free now. Sigh.

But before leaving, the Estonians gave me the number to some guy with a job loading bags of something, and it was suppose to be good money. So, I called him, and he said be there at 6. I was. Worked till a little after 8 before he said, come back at 4, we have more guys coming, we will finish then. So I did despite not feeling well for some reason. Then, after only about the 5th or 6th bag, I hurt something. Bad. The rest of the night I struggled along, just became the guy who switched out the bags on the machine that fills them. Towards the end I regained some courage to lift a couple, but, I kept away from them as much as I could.

Home, exhausted and tired. Straw dust, besides being itchy, get’s EVERYWHERE. I’ve like just spent the last 15 minutes trying to clear all the boogies out of my nose, and I still can’t breathe. Don’t worry ladies… my beautiful, money maker, eyes are still fine. I might be going blind, but they still look good.

Work at 7:30 tomorrow.

FML

Nägemiseni

Translation: Estonian for “see you later”.

The day I knew was coming came.

So, today, I worked at the Grain Storage Facility again (the guy with the funny story about his dad). And I came to realization; he looks like old Walter Matthau (the guy from Grumpy Old Men and Odd Couple). So anyway, went to pick up the Estonian’s after I finished the project of the day. Turns out, they got jobs at Casella Wines! Yes, the makers of Yellow Tail. My friends got a job at the place I wanted to work… sigh…

That would be alright, if it didn’t mean them going to Griffith to work there.
So, I drove Martin and Richard to their new place in Griffith, leaving Markus behind to finish up loose ends.

Needless to say… the drive home sucked.

Plus I have another day of oranges.

SERENITY NOW!