Rev. Erudite Redneck, B.S., B.S., M.A., M.Div.

Today was out of control before I even got woke up good.

Good news: Dr. ER is on her way, and we're going to go see Bird and YB tomorrow, after I get the jungle in the yard mowed down to size. They have a Wii they want to show off.

Then we're going to watch our Oklahoma State Cowblys take on Georgia's Dawgs on TV.

GO POKES!

--ER

This here is Big Brudder's dog, "Dawg." What kind of a hound *is* this critter?

Looks to me like he's part bigfoot and part used tire.

But he loooooovees my brudder! Brudder says Dawg just lays around with his head on his big ol' paws until he steps outside, and then Dawg jumps for joy and yips and hollers and carries on like the Lord his own self has stepped off the back porch.

First thought I had when I saw this pic was: "Stay on the road and out of the moors." (Name the flick).

--ER

This just in:

GENEVA (Aug. 28) - The United States has 90 guns for every 100 citizens, making it the most heavily armed society in the world, a report released on Tuesday said.

I own three myself: a pistol, a rifle and a shotgun. Haven't fired any of them since the 1990s, and the last time was on a dove hunt with the shotgun. I'm pretty sure it was the '80s the last time I fired the pistol.

I am neither surprised nor alarmed by this news.

Cold, dead fingers, etc. Guns don't kill people, people kill people, etc. Second Amendment, etc.

Peace, peace! But comes the revolution ...

Check yer firearms, and thoughts, in the comments, please.

--ER

... that ER could be a Unitarian Univeralist.

But also a mainline to liberal Protestant Christian, which I am.

Or, um, a ... er ... a dadgum NEO-PAGAN.

All my results.

Golly. I wonder which question pushed me into Unitarian Universalism? I wonder which one saved me from neo-paganism?

Take the test yer own self, and tell us the results!

--ER

Rednecks' days are numbered. Oklahoma State to go 'backer free. The only sacred cows left at OSU are the ones at the bull test station.

--ER

OK. Mid-terms on "Saving Grace." But first, the theme song and video, by Everlast.

I love "Grace." But I'm biased, since it's set in Oklahoma City, and I sit at my kitchen table exactly 15 miles due north of downtown Oklahoma City at this moment, and, of course, I love all things Oklahoma. (Even those damn ou sooners and their fans, like a chicken loves a pebble in its gizzard.)

I was tickled to see "Earl" wearing an Eskimo Joe's shirt last night. Joe's is as much Oklahoma State as Pistol Pete himself. But it doesn't come close to making up for the ou sycophancy that dogs the show.

One worry: The underlying plot is strong, but each episode is so explosive it leaves you breathless. Which is a good thing. I wonder, though, if the plot can withstand an explosion every week -- especially when what seem like cliffhangers just disappear.

Police chief's criminal brother shoots him dead at the cop shop. Bam. Next situation. Grace does a little charity work for a guy and he dies right in her arms, right on her front stoop. He's gone all right, and gone from the show forever. And on and on.

Last night, I remembered how "The X-Files" was really two series with the same characters. There was the continuous big-picture series, and then there was the episodic series -- each episode standing well all alone, I mean, with or without the underying narrative. I wonder as "Grace" goes on if we'll see a similar separation. One reviewer already complained that it's like watching two different shows.

But the plot portents are delicious. Did anybody notice last week when the "richest rancher in Oklahoma" got his prized bull statue back? He was so jacked he scooped Grace up, stuck his tongue down her throat, grabbed an ass cheek, then set her down. They looked at each other like: "What just happened?" And she, despite having kicked his ass twice in the first episode for just such behavior, seemed to LIKE it this time.

Hoo boy.

I think the theme song -- for a TV theme song -- kicks.

Finally, I think this is probably an example of the kind of meaningful popular art that has serious arteests -- and nose-in-the-air critics -- on one side, and everyday people who like a good story and don't mind a little kitsch on the other. Lit critters versus the checkout-stand novel-buying public, in other words.

But what do y'all think?

--ER

Homework assignment: Go find the pledge to your state flag (or province), or state motto, or bird, or something, and come back and share it with the ER crowd!

Salute to the Oklahoma Flag:

"I salute the flag of the State of Oklahoma. Its symbols of peace unite all people."

Adopted, 1982.

The "flag, prominently displays an Osage warrior's shield made from buffalo hide and decorated with seven eagle feathers hanging from the lower edge. The shield is centered on a field of blue borrowed from the blue flag that Choctaw soldiers carried during the Civil War. This flag honors more than 60 groups of Native Americans and their ancestors.

"The shield is decorated with six white crosses (stars) representing high ideals. Superimposed over the shield are symbols of peace and unity from the cultures of the Native American and European-American settlers in the territory; the calumet or ceremonial peace pipe and the olive branch."

More about Oklahoma state flags here.

(I confess that I did not know there was an official salute to the Oklahoma flag until Sunday.)

--ER

Who watched "God's Warriors," Christian Amanpour's reports on CNN last week?

Six hours of TV in three days is really too much for me. But it gets good reviews as a fair assessment of religious fundamentalism -- opposition to secularism and intolerance of differing views -- in Judaism, Islam and Christianity. I'm checking out the Web page above.


Prayer of Confession today at my "unapologetically liberal, unapologetically Christian" church:

Lord of Life, forgive us when we confuse the life of faith with a list of man-made rules. Forgive us when we arrogantly assume that our way is the only way, and that the purity of our doctrine is more important than the purposes of Your Love. As fundamentalism grows around the world, we are losing the most important voice of all: the still small voice. Turn us, we pray, from arrogance and violence, to empathy and compassion for all. In Christ's name we pray, Amen.


Scripture reading: Luke 13: 10-17
Jesus: People first, not doctrine!


Closing hymn:

Lead On, Eternal Sovereign

Lead on, eternal Sovereign, we follow in your way;
Loud rings your cry for justice, you call for peace this day:
Through prayerful preparation, your grace will make us strong,
To carry on the struggle to triumph over wrong.

Lead on, eternal Sovereign, we follow not with fear,
For in each human conflict your words of strength we hear:
That when we serve with gladness, you will not let us fall,
Our trust is in your promise that love will conquer all.

Lead on, eternal Sovereign, till sin’s fierce war shall cease,
And all your saints together will sing a hymn of peace;
Then all in your dominion will live with hearts set free,
To love and serve each other for all eternity.

Lead on, lead on; Alleluia! Alleluia!

Music by Gustav Holst, Lyrics by Ernest W. Shurtleff,
Arranged by Hal H. Hopson © 1992

(Original hymn, "Lead On, O King Eternal").

--ER

Holy tire smoke! This is how backslidden I am from NASCAR! I plumb forgot that today is the High Holy Day for the NASCAR faithful! The Bristol night race!

Bird saved me by texting me: "Race is On!"

I love my Bird! Green, green, green!

In honor of the day, here's an ER rerun.

--ER

Ugh. I have let the house go. So, my list of things to do today:

1. Ignore the yard. Easy since I BROKE MY BRAND-NEW MOWER by hitting the metal edging around the back patio, which BENT THE CRANKSHAFT, which would cost more to repair than to buy another &*%$%^ mower, for $150 at the Wal-Marts. Disposable mowers! Who knew. "I wish a Ford and a Chevy would still last 10 years like they should" -- and that tempered steel was still standard in lawn mower crankshafts!

2. Clean the whole house. I sent Mr. Phentermine away last week, and celebrated my weight loss by gaining a little of it back by reverting to my regemin ... regi ... regular diet of fried chicken, pizza delivery and ribs from the nearby County Line, which would be the death of me if I'd let it. Bones, pizza boxes and to-go clamshells are everywhere.

3. Unclutter my office! Looks like an F2 came through.

4. Do preliminary work on a history presentation I'm making in November at a symposium one of our "directional colleges."

5. Do preliminary work on a presentation for a journalism history class later this month at another of our "directional colleges."

6. Start reading a book that the books editor of a state history journal asked me to review. A new biography of Charles Goodnight. Yummy.

7. Bake a sweet tater and broil this nice halibut steak I picked up last night, for supper.

Let's see. Mr. Phentermine present? Check. Western channel on? Check. And Ice-T is following me around this mornin' like a pup -- which is slightly unsettling since he never does that. I reckon he wants to help me clean house.

Off to it!

* "bachelor" -- letting the house go, and the occasional night at the ceegar bar, are the only bachelor ways I've succombed to during the absence of the lovely Dr. ER, whom I love dearly and miss. Sniff.

--ER

Ironic, eh?

--ER

Crystal has returned to blogdom, with a blog that's right up my alley.

Remnant.

Go y'all, therefore, and tell her ER sent ya.

--ER

By Brian Ervin
Urban Tulsa

... A local downtown church began a series this week entitled "the Gospel according to the Beatles," which, as the title indicates, examines the parallels between the messages of John, Paul, Ringo, and George and those of another John and Paul, and some guys named Matt, Mark and Luke, too.

Read all about it.

Funny, I like country music, and I like Southern gospel music. And I like classic rock. And I like bluegrass and folk and some classical.

But in church these days, I prefer Bach and other "high church" stuff, and the old-standby hymns even if they come with updated "inclusive" language.

What are y'alls' preferences for church music?

--ER

Pastor Timothy persists in delusion, or rank dishonesty, when he says: "He brought the discussion from another site and then attacked me on his site." LOLOL. It's all right here. I just copy-and-pasted his trash talk of ME, and then only got upset when he posted my name.

And, he's mischaracterized my take on Scripture, as anyone who hangs around here knows. He has, however, NAILED me on my take on fundamentalism: It's a danger to the church, to the country and to the world. Pastor Timothy is a case in point.

--ER

The oddest delivery I've ever made to anyone. Ever.

To Bird!

Hoo hoo~! She forgot and left a whole bunch of her double-barrel slingshots in the dryer when she and YankeeBeau were here last. Finally got 'em back to her on my way back from Tulsa last night.

All day, I kept thinking: "Man, if I get in a wreck, here by myself, and sling these things all over the highway, I'm liable to have some 'splainin' to do."

--ER

Dr. ER will be here for Labor Day weekend. Sunday, we're taking off for somewhere, with a picnic basket.

Options so far:

Dusk to Dawn Blues Festival at Rentiesville, Okla. (Read about Rentiesville and some more on Oklahoma's historically black towns here.)

Red Dirt Harvest Festival at Okemah, Okla. More on Red Dirt music here.)

Choctaw Nation Labor Day Festival, Tuskahoma, Okla.

Westfest Polka Festival, West, Texas. (Read about Czechs in Texas here.)

What would y'all do?

And now I'm gtt -- not to Texas! Gone to Tulsa, on bidness, and I hope to have time to go to the Gilcrease Museum.

--ER

Sweat-drenched and fairly beer-soaked.

I can't believe I took this with a dadgum telephone.

--ER

Ha:

Did you hear about the desperate dyslexic?

He sold his soul to Santa.


And ha:

A Texas rancher got in his pickup and drove to a neighboring ranch and knocked at the door A young boy, about 9, opened the door.

"Is yer Dad home?" the rancher asked.

"No sir, he ain't," the boy replied. "He went into town."

"Well," said the rancher, "is yer Mom here?"

"No, sir, she ain't here neither. She went into town with Dad."

"How about your brother, Howard? Is he here?"

"He went with Mom and Dad."

The rancher stood there for a few minutes, shifting from one foot to the other and mumbling to himself.

"Is there anything I can do fer ya?" the boy asked politely. "I knows where all the tools are, if you want to borry one. Or maybe I could take a message fer Dad."

"Well," said the rancher uncomfortably, "I really wanted to talk to yer Dad. It's about your brother Howard getting my daughter, Pearly Mae, pregnant."

The boy considered for a moment. "You would have to talk to Pa about that" he finally conceded. "If it helps you any, I know that Pa charges $50 for the bull and $25 for the hog, but, I really don't know how much he gets fer Howard."

--ER

Amazing. These are not mere remnants of Tropical Storm Erin, seen over Oklahoma. This is the reconstituted Tropical Storm Erin. It got its second wind in north Texas and then just came kickin'
ass into Oklahoma. Truly amazing.

And sad. Six Oklahomans, at least, died. The story of the Kiowa Indian tribal chairman's wife, daughter and granddaughter is particularly gut-wrenching.

At the ER house, all that happened was some of my new ryegrass got washed out, and although I'm not sure it's related, a nest of bunnies somehow wound up within strikin' distance of Bailey, and he struck.

I took one dead baby rabbit away from him last night, and by the time I disposed of it and got back to the back yard, he had another one, so I just let him eat it. The cycle of life.

--ER

UPDATED: Link to Pastor Timothy's church taken down because he threatened me -- how godly! -- if I didn't, even though he, himself, links to it from his blog.

We join a personal attack by an alleged man of God, a "pastor" (Presbyterian Church in America) already in progress ...

ER: Timothy, feel free to do anything — ANYTHING — but doubt my salvation, my sincerity, or my relationship with God through Christ.

You are not qualified to judge any of that. You make a fool of yourself when you try using carnal knowledge — it means “earthly,” temporal,” “HUMAN” knowledge — to judge me or anyone esle you disagree with!

How you, or anyone else, dare is beyond me.

TIMOTHY: ER, Dare or not to dare. I dare. Your faith as you have expressed does not line up with Scripture. Your actions as you have carried them out on your blog and on others, does not line up with Scripture. You lack the fruits of the Spirit found in Galatians and humility found throughout the NT, and as Jesus said, “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves. You will know them by their fruits…. therefore by their fruits you will know them.”

Your blog, attitude and treatment of fellow brothers in Christ is repugnant. And until I see some true repentance on your part, I will never consider you a brother in Christ.

Link to Pastor Timothy's church taken down because he threatened me -- how godly! -- if I didn't, even though he, himself, links to it from his blog.

--ER

This is great. It could make you weep.

Myself, I weep that the president himself, and his party, so quickly PISSED AWAY this spirit, so real in the wake of 9/11, when we all were cheering the war in Afghanistan, by branding me and others like me as unpatriotic for questioning the nonsensical war of choice in Iraq.



As seen at Bad Ass Marine, which has info. on who he is, and the story of this video.

--ER

Tit:

"Bro." Wiley Drake calls for curses against two specific staffers of Americans United for the Separation of Church and State.

Tat:

Americans United denounces the "pastor" -- who Lordy! is a candidate for the presidency of the Southern Baptist Convention.

Tut!

Associated Baptist Press has to take it seriously.

Praying for God to curse someone is one step away from doing them physical harm yourself. If you would pray for evil to befall someone at God's own hand, and were presented with the opportunity to do him harm and declined, then you would be the worst sort of hypocrite.

My prayer: God protect us all from fundamentalist freaks, be they atheist, Muslim, Christian or whatever.

--ER

--ER

Man, it just don't get no better than this! About 9 hours from now, now ... Haggard, Willie, Ray Price, in OKC!

--ER


"The Bottle Let Me Down"
by Merle Haggard

D
Each night I leave the barroom when it's over
A7
Not feeling any pain at closing time
A7
But tonight you memory found me much too sober
D
Couldn't drink enough to keep you off my mind


CHORUS:
D
Tonight the bottle let down
A7
and let you memory come around
A7
The one true friend I thought I'd found
D
Tonight the bottle let down


I've always had a bottle I could turn to
And lately I've been turning everyday
But the wine don't take effect the way it used to
And I'm hurting in an old familiar way

CHORUS

Tonight the bottle let down

So, where were you when you learned that Elvis Presley (Jan. 8, 1935-Aug. 16, 1977) had died?

What're your favorites of his?

My favorite movie is "King Creole."

My favorite songs are "(There Will Be) "Peace in the Valley) For Me," and "Heartbreak Hotel," which, even though it was his first hit has not become a cliche, IMHO, and has stood the test of 51 years of play.

The picture, from 1973, when I was 9, is the image in my mind of Elvis.

I was 13 when Elvis died, and just getting into buying my own music (45s and 8-tracks). So, I like his last four singles, too:

"Moody Blue" and its b-side, "She Thinks I Still Care" and "Way Down," which are among my old records at Mama ER's house, and "My Way," which I never owned, but was on the air so much, it being such a great epitaph for the King, that I didn't notice I didn't own it.

By the way, now I know how people feel when I tell them I don't know where I was when President Kennedy was assassinated (because I wasn't born yet).

A colleague just walked by my desk and I asked him, "Where were you when you learned Elvis had died?"

"I don't know," he said. "Picking my nose or something. I was 5."

Time marches on.

--ER

Big ol' hoot, this. --ER


NASCAR Coach Reveals Winning Strategy: 'Drive Fast'

Urban, culturally-"superior" lefties -- the kind I refer to when I say I hold my nose and stand with the left (because I just can't stand with the right at all) -- have had a field day makin' fun of poor ol' stupid Oklahoma and it's official "GWOT" license plate.

Myself, I think the tag is silly, but harmless, in that it reflects the general thinking around here already. It's not adding anything.

I think the ones attacking the state, and its people, though, are obnoxious elitest phonies. Shut the hell up, y'all.

One thing I keep seeing is the assertion that Oklahoma has no room for such, because of "home-grown terrorist" Timothy McVeigh! Well, that son-of-a-bitch was from NEW YORK.

No, sometimes I can't take a joke.

--ER

Oh, man. Let the country countdown begin.

Mr. K. Kat, my oldest continuous friend from my hometown, is comin' out Friday to go with me to see Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson and Ray Price, who are on what they're callin' the Last of the Breed Tour.

Very cool.

I haven't been to that many concerts. In fact, the last one I saw was with Mr. K. Kat, and another friend: Dwight Yoakam, five or six years ago. Keith Urban was there, too.

I went to Farm Aid, as a member of the workin' press, in Columbia, S.C., 10 years ago. Saw Willie there, and John Cougar Mellancamp and Jewel and John Conlee and Martina McBride and others.

Before that, I saw Reba and a few others, including the Dixie Chicks at a regular ol' dancehall, right before they hit it big. And I saw Garth Brooks just as "Friends in Low Places" was released -- awesome. All in Wichita Falls.

Before that, most of my concert goin' was of the Gospel and contemporary Christian type, in churches and small-town venues: B.J. Thomas, The Imperials, Amy Grant, the Cathedrals, Florida Boys, Happy Goodmans and the like.

What was the last concert you saw? Or your favorite?

--ER

I love this silly song! Walk a church aisle, get confirmed, find God's grace on a mountain, at the lake, or in prison. Whatever. There's a point where one's God consciousness begins, although not every Christian can pinpoint it in time.

The shorthand for it in these parts, whatever the particulars, is "getting saved."

What if cartoons got saved??



--ER

" ... cursed is the ground for thy sake ... thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee ..."
--Genesis 3: 17-8 (partial)

Call me crazy, but I've spent the morning pulling weeds and grass from the flower beds and the wilderness protection area that used to be my vegetable garden -- and I've been diggin' every minute of it.

Not that long ago, my knees were so "bad" I couldn't even get down on my hands and knees.

Pushing 300 pounds, I didn't have any stamina at ALL for something like that.

Unlike most of the things I do in life, pulling weeds is quantifiable: They were there. Now they are gone. Very cool.

Even with the heat -- it's hitting 100 here now in the afternoons -- I'm tickled because its DRY. I'm still not over the week-after-week deluge we had half the winter, all of spring and the first of summer.

Man, I want to move to Colorado and start a goat farm -- or something. I like writin' and editin' for a livin' -- but I do miss me some manual labor. After two days at my desk this week, I felt like Bailey droppings warmed over.

I've just got to figure out to make a white-collar wage as a redneck ditch-digger, or goat raiser, or something!

Goats because 1., you don't need much land, and 2., increases in ethnic populations for whom goat meat is a staple continue to rise on immigration and birth rates.

And if I ever do get goats, I'll find Wanda Quick, the smart-ass little beeyotch who first introduced me to socio-economic-cultural bias, on a school bus in fifth grade, and tell her to kiss my redneck ass.

She'd moved to my one-horse, two-dog town from somewhere "big" -- like Muskogee! -- took one look at me one day, and said, "You're a goat roper."

Being pretty literal-minded, I remember saying something like "Do what? No, we have cattle on our place."

She laughed and made fun of my clothes:

Jeans, boots and a button-down shirt with those rhinestone-type snaps -- and I learned the feeling of being on the receiving end of derision before I knew the word "derision," and before I knew that "goat roper" was supposed to be an insult.

That episode with Wanda Quick, as much as anything, started me on the road to empathy for what the eggheads call "the other" in society. She marginalized me.

Weeds? Goats? Wanda Quick? "The other" and social marginalization? Whew! Both my E and my R are in good workin' order today, I reckon.

Back to the weed pullin'.

--ER

Went to the doc yesterday and weighed in: I've lost 25 pounds since Oct. 26, with a little help from Mr. Phentermine. I am a svelte 6'4", 269 pounds.

But it's not all him. Not eating for entire swaths of several days a week helps you change general habits. Sometimes I want to eat right even when Mr. Phentermine is not with me!

The tabloids? Last night I dreamed that I was Holly Hunter's "boy toy" in Oklahoma City! You know, she's playing Grace Hanadarko, an Oklahoma City detective, in the new series "Saving Grace" on TNT.

Holly was in town to promote the show, see, and I finagled a way to meet her -- and she was so impressed with my slimming self and manly form that she was overcome. :-)



Ha! Hey, Dr. ER and I both have celebrity fantasies. If Alan Rickman ("Severus Snape" in the Harry Potter series) or Jason Isaacs ("Lucious Malfoy" in Harry Potter) come close, she'll be all over 'em. :-)

So, like, who's YOUR celebrity crush?

--ER

This is so stupid it makes my head hurt.

ENID, Okla. -- Chisholm Public Schools officials have decided not to accept money raised for the high school football team during a backyard party after hearing beer was served at the function.

Jeff Lack hosted the fundraiser and offered food, drinks, swimming and entertainment. Friends and family were invited, and Lack also asked the football coach to pass the word along to players.

Lack’s son, Cory, was a football player killed in a car wreck (while legally intoxicated) three years ago. The father said it was his intention to help his son’s alma mater. A flier passed around the community pegged the event as CoryPalooza II, in memory of his son.

Read all about ignorance gone to seed in Enid, Okla.

To tell the truth, I don't know who is the ingnurntest here, the school for turning down the money, or the dad for having such bad judgment.

*Oklahoma beer is 3.2 percent alcohol.

--ER

My bloggy buddy and friend Tech (51313 Harbor Street), who is from the same one-horse, two-dog town I'm from in eastern Oklahoma, has done wrote hisself a book, "Murder by Dewey Decimal."

It's good. I don't read much fiction for the same reason most people don't like history: The first history they read bored them. Well, most of the fiction I read early on bored me.

"Murder by Dewey Decimal" is not boring. Danged if Tech didn't get me caring about the characters right off the bat. I've laughed out loud more than a few times, and moaned once or twice, at Tech's turns of phrase, and the words he puts in his characters' mouths.

Interesting to me personally is that I can hear small-town voices and world views in this book, which, of course, is set in a small town in Oklahoma. He mentions our hometown, and mentions the suburb I live in now, which are just fun bonuses.

"Murder by Dewey Decimal" came in Monday's mail and I've almost finished it. Now, I would never say anything negative about it, Tech being my friend, if I thought it -- I'd just be quiet.

The fact that 1., I don't care for much fiction; 2., I am giving his book a positive report; and 3., I think I got my money's worth from buying it -- all that should count for something.

Check it out -- ha ha, a little library humor there!

What I mean is: Buy it.

Buy it in paper or by download here.

Buy it in hardback here.

Buy goofy "Murder by Dewey Decimal" merchandise here.

--ER

Not that I forgot -- but WOW, it makes a difference when you don't sit at a computer all day! I'm used to being a few keyboard strokes away from unloading whatever feeble opinion, random brain fart or question that occurs to me.

The past 10 days, though, I've been not only not at a computer, but not even indoors for most of every day. And I am universally sore. Every muscle. The good kind of sore, though -- no serious strains or anything.

I think I managed to do everything I meant to do to get the ER house in shape to put on the market -- although more remains to be done. New fence or not? New carpet or not?

And the more I get done, the easier it is to see smaller things that remain, like another, very slight crack around our master bedroom windows, like indoor doorknobs that need replaced, like outdoor light fixtures that also need replaced, because they're weatherworn.

Here's how I spent Part 2 of my summer vacation (Part 1):

Carried even more topsoil, one 40-pound at a time, into the back yard. The total is over 150 bags now.

Hand tilled topsoil into bare patches.

Fertilized and seeded bermudagrass in sunny spots.

Grubbed out weeds and old, worn-out bushes and junk from under the big maple out by the back fence.

Fertilized and seeded annual ryegrass in the shady spot under the maple tree.

Borrowed a neighbor's wheelbarrow and hauled 14 loads of gravel -- two, 1,700-pound pickup loads -- into the back, to spread under a shed that I will advertise as "an outdoor living area partially equipped for a wet bar" (it has running water).

Painstakingly used a hammer and large awl to remove about 100 steeples from railroad ties that are the box for what was my raised vegetable garden, said steeples used to tack down the wire, then removed and rolled up the wire.

Pulled up 15 T-posts from the garden fence. Thought about spending $50 for a fencepost puller at the Tractor Supply, but decided I'd rather spend that money on cigars -- so I did, and pulled those puppies up by hand.

Another 20 bags of topsoil to the front sideyard, tilled it, fertilized it and seeded annual ryegrass.

Filled in remaining bare spots in the main front yard from where heavy rains washed out some of the bermudagrass I'd previously seeded.

Hauled just one truckload of stuff to the local landfill transfer station.

Meanwhile, Bird and YankeeBeautrothed worked a total of seven days (four for him, three for her, scraping, priming and repainting the pergola (I call it an arbor; it's like this one only twice as big)over the back patio. What a chore! It has 22 2-by-6's, about 20 feet long each, plus several crossbeams and six columns.

Bird also scrubbed the front bathroom, top to bottom and side to side, and scrubbed the front porch and entry, and she helped Dr. ER with some stuff, and got a good start at emptying her old room, and Bird and YB both grubbed out about five years worth of dead matter and trimmed the pampas grass in front.

Now, Dr. ER is back in Boulder. Bird is here until this weekend; YB goes to Houston and back for dental work -- and I am actually glad to be back at work, where I can get some rest.

--ER

Live on "Soul Train." Awesome.

Today is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!

--ER

The other night, I dreamed ...

Dr. ER, me, Bird and her YankeeBeautrothed were sitting down to supper. I said:

"Ya know, I don't do this much at all, but I'm so glad we're all here together, I'd like to say Grace.

" ' Rub a dub dub. Thanks for the grub. Yay God. God, thank you. Thank you for being God. Thank you for your apparent patience with us anthropomorphizing You -- since it's all we know to do. We see You as a form of ourselves. Thank you for your Love. Thank you for your early Christian follower who wrote, "God is love." So, thank you, Love, for You. Because Love is here with us right now. Which means that You are here with us now. In the name of Jesus, our best example of your Love for us, Amen.' "

Keep the manlike God on the Big Throne. God seen like that is too small. I've been meditating on Paul's words as noted in Acts 17: 24-28:

"God, who made the world and everything in it, since He is Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in temples made with hands. Nor is He worshiped with men’s hands, as though He needed anything, since He gives to all life, breath, and all things. And He has made from one [blood] every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth, and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings, so that they should seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and have our being, as also some of your own poets have said, ‘For we are also His offspring.’ "

I just love this: "that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and have our being ..."

I suppose that God doesn't change, as it is said -- although I don't know why that should be the case. But our concepts of God change. They have to, as WE change.

What is your concept of God today?

--ER

The date in the headline: The last time Dr. ER and Bird and I went bowling. We know the exact date.

Dale Earnhardt died the next day. I can still hear the gasp, the "noooo" and the wail from Dr. ER, who was in her office here at the house, clicking "update" on a news site until she learned what we feared.

Horrible day. We had gotten a cake in the shape of Dale's famous No. 3 GM Goodwrench Service Plus Chevrolet. I remember we also had Frito chili pie as race food that day.

Shudder. The year 2001 sucked in many ways. Jan. 27 sucked. Feb. 18 sucked. Sept. 11 sucked, of course. Shudder.

Bird and YankeeBeautrothed have taken up bowling. We all took the day off today from hard manual labor. Tonight we bowl.

And thus will fall, six years and six months after the fact, the last remaining stigma associated with Dale's death.

--ER

Smells like dirt, sweat, cheap greasy food, beer -- and now "desert jasmine," which I misunderstood to be say "juniper."

What a hoot.

Outside the kitchen window, I can see YankeeBeautrothed's feet on the second rung of a ladder. Bird is on another ladder. They have primed and are now painting the arbor over the patio.

YB makes a hand, YB does, and Bird is a hard worker, too.

My own hard manual labor beckons:

Another three-quarter ton of gravel to get from the back of my truck to the "floor" of a shed out back; another few hundred pounds of soil into a low spot of the yard; and I've got got to finish taking down a hog-wire-and-T-post fence I put up to keep Riker and Bailey out of my garden.

Tomorrow, I've got to haul more soil into more low spots, in a front sideyard, and till it and sow more ryegrass in a shadey spot.

Perfect weather for all this, too: Dry, highs in upper 90s, most of the humidity has burned off.

--ER