Epic

So, while leaving Satan-Center (Wal-Mart) with a massive quantity of stuff, I glanced over at the Missing Children board.

You may be thinking, "what a kind and compassionate man Brian is. Always studying children's faces to help in the national watch for missing children."

No. I'm looking to see how horrible the pictures are, thinking this is the best photo you have of your missing child? Yes, I'm callous and cold.

This time however, I noticed something that caught my eye. One child's photo was a mug shot.

A mug shot.

In case you missed that, a mug shot.

Here's a radical notion: if the best photo you have of your missing child is his mug shot, your child is not missing. He is a fugitive from justice. Time to face reality.

I'm just saying.

Breakin' the law

Some say that child labor laws protect children.

I say that people don't realize how good children can clean.

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Edisto, more than a beach

Madeline loves Edisto Island. And why not? It's a wonderful place that is not swarming with junk souvenir stores and teenagers with loud car radios playing rap at obscene volume.

It's quiet, with shell covered beaches. The link to the past is ever present. There are reminders of the island cotton days. The rice plantation days. The truck farming days. There is the oldest continuously active church in South Carolina.

Admittedly, Edisto has always been where I go shrimping with my father. Now though it is where Madeline can play in the surf and build a sand castle. It is where a ride to nowhere in the Jeep with the doors and windows off is a big adventure.

New family customs seem to be starting every day.

As a side note, lightning hit our Direct TV dish while we were gone. This is the third time this year, because the technicians refused to ground the equipment. Direct TV refused to send a repairman out in less than three days. So, I fired them. I will now get my television from the interwebs and from a Netflix subscription. So, no real tv for our house any more. Let's see how that works out. At least I removed the incompetence that is Direct TV from my life.

So long old girl

I've had my girl Dixie for 13 years. I got her while I was at Erskine College. She's been with me ever since. She was run over by my mother in law, and she was hit out on my road in 1999. She's had a bad leg and one lung ever since.

She got under my feet in the garage.

She begged for treats constantly.

She always barked at cats and deer all night long when I needed to get up early the next day.

She would look right at the arc when I was welding no matter how many times I told her not to.

She would chase people on bikes. (Well, that may not have been a bad thing)

She was incredibly dominant.

She would lay in the shadows at night and scare me when I was coming home.

She had to leave me Saturday.

I'm going to miss that wonderful dog.

Uh, yeah...

So it's been a while and I have not posted. I guess I get twenty lashes for that one. Long story short, I had some problems with my old steam powered computer, so I bought a new one. I'm back up and running, so I should have no excuse for not posting more often.

Lil' sis is still in the hospital. She should be getting out soon. Her infection in her lungs seems to be clearing up.

Let's hear it for beer!!!

If it is so important, why aren't you here?

So the Blythewood Masonic Lodge annual fundraiser BBQ was this weekend. Let me start off by saying that I do not enjoy this event.

I got to the Lodge at 6:45. My job in this annual bloodletting it to stoke the fire barrels, shovel hot coals on the end of a shovel with a 10' extended metal handle, load flip and remove the chickens, and generally be a spare set of hands. I am supposed to be on first shift. This usually works out just fine and dandy. I help cook about 500 of the 800 chickens, the other 300 are handled by second shift, who doesn't work as hard, but it is hotter in the afternoon so it's fair in the end.

Unless, there is no second shift.

Only one person assigned to second shift managed to show up. So, I was there until 5:30. Overheated, exhausted, sweaty, smelly, and with a very bad angry streak by that time as well.

All of this because a bunch of grumpy old men, most of whom have lifetime memberships and do not pay dues, are too stupid to realize that we cannot afford to operate on $50 per year dues per member with only 120 members. (Actually, about 75 of those pay dues!) So instead of having a fundraiser to help someone in the community, we have a fundraiser to support our laziness and ignorance.

I'm not cooking chicken any more. For the record: if the dues are not raised to fully fund the Lodge operations, I'm not helping with the fundraiser. The fundraiser should help the community, not support our sloth.

So here is a cute picture of Princess Poopy Pants to cheer us all up!