pooping gas...
I'm not nearly as faithful to this blog as I desire. I'm not sure if I should renew my vows to it, or just take it out for dinner and slide a "Dear John" letter across the table telling it, in not so many words, that I don't have the feelings for it I once did. We've shared almost 135 posts together. I have too much invested in this relationship to bail now, but there are times when familiarity has bred contempt.
Today, I am typing with a "Hello Kitty" band-aide on my finger. I jig-sawed into my ring finger on Saturday making a sign for church. Every time I type with it, it hits three keys and I have to delete the two letters I don't want. Fortunately, I didn't have to play my guitar this weekend because the youth band was leading worship. Of all the weeks for me to saw into my finger, this was the best one. God is so good to allow me to be injured only when it's convenient in my schedule. I'm so glad I follow a God that works around my schedule. (sarcasm)
My youngest daughter said something funny yesterday in the car. We were driving back from someone's house and she said, "Daddy pooped gas." She said it a couple times in a row. Heidi laughed and pointed at me. I need to point out that the smell was a skunk that had been sidelined by an automotive vehicle sometime in the previous week. Although I'm not going to lie...occasionally I have been known to poop gas...but let the record show that this was not one of those times. I know the smell of my own gas like the back of my hand, and this was nowhere near as sweet a smell. My daughter has many years ahead of her to grow in her ability to decipher between the scent of roadkill and intoxicating aroma of her dad letting off some steam. She's learning though.
Well, I've carried on long enough. Come to think of it, I think I will carry on with this blogging relationship. Today's post has given me a fresh reason to see its eternal significance. Where would our world be without profound thoughts the likes of which were recorded today? It's scary to even think about.
Today, I am typing with a "Hello Kitty" band-aide on my finger. I jig-sawed into my ring finger on Saturday making a sign for church. Every time I type with it, it hits three keys and I have to delete the two letters I don't want. Fortunately, I didn't have to play my guitar this weekend because the youth band was leading worship. Of all the weeks for me to saw into my finger, this was the best one. God is so good to allow me to be injured only when it's convenient in my schedule. I'm so glad I follow a God that works around my schedule. (sarcasm)
My youngest daughter said something funny yesterday in the car. We were driving back from someone's house and she said, "Daddy pooped gas." She said it a couple times in a row. Heidi laughed and pointed at me. I need to point out that the smell was a skunk that had been sidelined by an automotive vehicle sometime in the previous week. Although I'm not going to lie...occasionally I have been known to poop gas...but let the record show that this was not one of those times. I know the smell of my own gas like the back of my hand, and this was nowhere near as sweet a smell. My daughter has many years ahead of her to grow in her ability to decipher between the scent of roadkill and intoxicating aroma of her dad letting off some steam. She's learning though.
Well, I've carried on long enough. Come to think of it, I think I will carry on with this blogging relationship. Today's post has given me a fresh reason to see its eternal significance. Where would our world be without profound thoughts the likes of which were recorded today? It's scary to even think about.
Comments
This blog made me laugh so hard because I really do think the gas thing is a "Holdridge thing". It drives Cliff to the brink of sleeping on the couch sometimes.
Anyway , I love you...thanks for making me laugh today!!!