Josh on Choosing the Proper Camel

***Later that Day in Outside of Cairo, Egypt (True story)

So there it is...  around noon.  My crew and I step out of the bus that drove us to the base of mount Sinai.  Now came the decision that would affect us for the rest of our lives.  A good decision would make for a life altering event.  A bad decision would also make for a life altering event.  I wish I could say I made a good decision but my hand was forced by fate to make the only decision available to me.  The bad one.

The time had come for each one of us to pick the camel that was to carry us to the top of Mount Sinai.  As I watched my friends led by professional camel handlers to the camel of their choice I was enspired and comforted.  I've not had the best experience with saddled animals. I'm kind of a big deal. Literally. 6”2' of sheer glory with about 290 – 300 pounds of Hey How Ya...

Last time I was on a saddled animal was just days before this.  The horse I rode was chased by a trained dog to get the horse through the tour as fast as puppily possible. and boy was he quick AND I didn't see any of the Giza Pyramids sat that time since I was too busy screaming like a girl.

So I'm comforted to know that 1) there are no dogs and 2) I can pick a camel with a saddle big enough to fit the cargo (my butt).

As I watch the last of the team fit their cargo to their camel's saddle I walked up to my professional camel handler.  Our conversation went something like this:

Handler:  “Hello.  Time to get camel.”

Me:  “Ok.”

Handler:  “Camel pick you.  You don't pick camel.  It's camel's choice.  (Even as I try and remember the way the guy talked I can only picture him speaking Chinese so if the way I depict my interaction with the PCH (Professional Camel Handler) seems like it was with a Chinese guy, that's why...  But he was Egyptian.)

Me:  “How will I know when camel pick me”

Handler:  …  he just laughed...  He didn't say anything he just laughed.

The team leader I was with yelled out from his comfortable spot on his camel and said that I would know when the camel would “pick me” because he would allow me to get close enough to saddle up.

So off I went to find my camel.  Naturally I strayed to the largest camels and was turned away.  They scoffed at me and spit at me. Literally, it spit. It was thick and orange and had the consistency of grits.  Grits like grandmamma made.

It should be stated that I have never known any of my grandmother’s to make grits nor have I ever known anyone else’s grandmother to make a fore mentioned grits.  I do however know of the grits you can order at “Cracker Barrel” not that I ever ordered previously mentioned grits from the Cracker Barrel breakfast menu since they have some EPIC biscuits and gravy and though I know you can order breakfast for lunch and dinner I would consider it absurd to order the following breakfast items for dinner UNLESS there was no other choice.

Oatmeal

Grits

Pancakes

Breakfast Tacos

Eggs (apart from a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit… homemade of course.  Bacon and cheese can be consumed separately and are not found on the above mentioned list)

So I literally went through the remaining handful of camels and none of them wanted to carry me...  Obviously they were pros and they knew what it meant to carry a big guy. Suddenly I see him... Wide eyed... Happy... Innocent...  Pure... Smiling...  A little black camel...  It was as if fate herself brought us together.  As I gazed into his eyes and he in mine it was as if you could hear the soundtrack of a romantic movie this world has yet to see.  Our bond was strong and this little guy had 2 things the other camels didn't have.  Ignorance and Inexperience.  Though trying to get my “cargo” into this little guys saddle was like trying to squeeze an apple into a water hose, I sat proud.  And my camel, though smaller than the others, stood tall.  and seemingly afraid.  He tried to back out twice by kneeling back to the ground but I wasn't having any of that. He made a commitment and like all Allah fearing camel's this one knew he stood before the wrath of his maker.  So, on we went. 

Now the little guy had heart.  He did not give up and we made it to the top of Mount Sinai.  Oddly enough, halfway up was Base Camp.  (This would have been an easy hike on foot by the way).  So at base camp what do I see???  Coca-Cola and Snickers bars.  And where was my money?  In my hand of course as I paid for the snickers. That's right folks. I had a snickers bar and a coke the same place Moses met the God of creation.

What was my reaction?  I like to think it was similar to Moses’ reaction when he encountered the very Glory of God.  We both fell down and worshiped God for all good things including Chocolate nougat and Caramelized carbonated sugar water.

So back on the camel and up the hill we go... up the hill...  Finally we make it to the ruins where we will set up our sleeping bags in this freezing altitude. 

At this point in our relationship, the camel and I were glad to break our fellowship.  The sorrow is equal to that of the sorrow one feels when leaving prison.  And if you equate said sorrow to a number, then that number equals 0.  0 being the least amount of sorrow one person can feel in any given situation concerning camels.  It takes about 5 minutes for what I call the docking process to complete.  This is where my camel had to find a flat piece of ground in which to dock with.  My little buddy gets down on his front 2 knees and then the back and it then laying on the ground in exhaustion, so it’s like a roller coaster right before it takes that big drop but without all the fun that comes with a roller coaster.

You could almost hear the little guys relief as I dismount.  He is no longer under the “oppression of the man.”  This is the point in the journey where, if the other camels had hands, vocal chords and proper air support to form speech, they would have pointed and laughed.

Later that night at the local watering hole, the camels would share the story of the day’s events.  One camel would say…  “Did you hear what the Newbie?”  and the watering hole tender would say “No I sure didn’t…  Tell me.”  On and on hilarity would ensue all at my steeds expense. 

This would drive him to have abandonment and acceptance issues for many years after the fact and these issues would drive him to the bottle and isolation.

Ok.  So I pay the amount previously agreed upon to my handler for the use of my trusty steed and start to walk away.

My PCH approached me at this point and the conversation went something like this.

And again... forgive me for the Chinese Egyptian dialoged

PCH:  “You pay double!!!”

Me:  “Excuse me?”

PCH:  “You pay double.”

Me:  “Why would I pay double”

PCH:  “Because your camel is tired.  Can’t work NO MO.  He did double work.”

Me:  “What do you mean he did double work?”

PCH:  “Your camel twice as small.  YOU twice as big.  You pay twice as much.”

There was no arguing with the man.  His calculations and theory was solid.  We settled for 60 pounds.  I was happy to pay the price.  The little guy did, after all, lead me to food and drink of the likes that I had not previously brought with me, and honestly, how many people do you know that went all the way to Egypt, rode on the shoulders of some poor victimized camel to the top of Mount Sinai (the same place where Moses met God) and had a Snicker’s bar and a coke?  That’s right… Just one.  Me!

In conclusion, the old Egyptian saying goes…  If you lead an American up a mountain in the middle of nowhere and before him you place creature comforts such as chocolate peanut nougat and soda you will earn a profit.

And that's how you choose your camel.

Like Father... Like Son...

You know the older I get the more appreciate different things.  It's like an acquired taste for somethings and just a given that I appreciate and enjoy others.  Like Sweet Potatoes and Chocolate Chip cookies.  For me, it's a given that I LOVE chocolate chip cookies...  Crunchy unless they are just out of the oven.  I don't like soft chocolate chip.  Those are for people who need to gum their food.  :) 

Sweet potatoes on the other hand took me YEARS to get into until someone, not naming names, showed me that you can mash those puppies up, cake them in butter, throw some sugar on top, bake it until the sugar has a crust on the sweet potatoes and then covers them in marshmellows...  That was an acquired taste for me...  However they have now become a staple to every Thanksgiving dinner... 

Now though I like food, that isn't the focus here.  I just wanted to explain myself before I got hate mail about the descrepencies between chocolate chip cookies and sweet potatoes.

Now I've always loved my father.  Heck, I even like the guy, but like with every relationship I find I have in my life, there are things the I instantly like about the guy and things that took some getting used to. 

For example, let's go back to when Josh has his second girlfriend.  It's the 6^th grade.  I had my first girlfriend, Amanda LaRoche, now Amanda Freeny, when I was in the 5^th grade.  What passed for a girlfriend when I was in the 5^th grade was the chick you hung out with in school, talked on the phone with and laughed at each other's jokes.  It lasted like 3 days...  She called and left a message. BOO!!!!

Ok.  So it's my second girlfriend.  She is in the 8^th grade.  (I've always had something for older chicks).  Now this girl, Crissy, was different.  2 WHOLE grades ahead of me.  She was the first girl I held hands with.  Crissy was the first girl I went on a date with... and to the movies... ALONE!!!!  WOW!!!! I was excited.

So, naturally like any 8^th grader dating a 6^th grader the 8^th grader decides what to do, especially when the 8^th grader is the chick....  So I talk to her at school on a Thursday and she mentions going to the movie.  Well that night after school she calls and requests a date with yours truly...  Something like... “Hey let's go see a movie tomorrow.”  Naturally I said... “Ok... Let me ask my mom and dad.”  (I konw what you're thinking... PLAYER!!! And you're totally right... I mean who doesn't want to date a catch like me when clearly I have to ask mom and dad not only for a ride but for money...)

So I put the phone down and sprint into the parentals dwelling place and get out as much of the information as I could... 

“Mom, Dad...  Tomorrow night... Crissy... Movie... Ride... Money... PLEASE!!!”  Naturally they said ok and the only thing to do upon hearing such good news was to SPRINT back to the phone, catch my breath and put on my “everything's cool” voice.  My goodness I can't imagine how high pitched my voice was....  “They said ok.” I said, clearly demonstrating my dominance over the relationship while clearly demonstrating the independence I have in my life at the time.

So Friday passes and it turns into the evening.  I'm getting ready for the big date.  I pick out a shirt and some blue jeans and we're off to pick up the girlfriend.  I'm in the back seat.  Dad is driving and mom is  in the passenger seat.  “Sweet” I'm thinking....  Mom is here and there is NO WAY Dad can embarrass me.  If you know me at all then you know I'm a complete goofball.  Well...  I learned from the best and he is far more skilled than I.

So we pick Crissy up and we're on the way to the movies... I even remember the song on the radio as we pull away from Crissy's house.  “Thunder Rolls” by Garth Brooks.  AWESOME!!!

The ride up is uneventful and Crissy and I just talk.  This was before texting so I don't know how in the world we ever made it through the car ride of 20 minutes to the theater.

Here's where things get fun.... My dad is a goof right?  Well up to this point of the trip everything has gone great.  No silly stories, no loud noises (Which my dad is known for being extreme when he's a being a goof... Loud and all smiles and jokes.  Growing up, he was the dad that would call my girlfriends by the wrong first name ON PURPOSE!!!).  As we pull into the Tomball Movie Theater parking lot and park my parents hand me some cash and I wait for a brief second waiting for my dad to say something....  “..............”!!!  Nothing happens.  Oh Lord, is this really happening?  I think.  Well no time to look a gift horse in the mouth....  I get out and open Crissy's door and we gigle and start the walk to the ticket booth.... 

Another click of a car door sounds.... “oh know” I think.  All of a sudden....

“HOUND DOG!!!!” the man yells out,  (this is what my father calls me... Hound Dog, Dog, Son, Mine one and only, der ridder rid.... Say it all as one word.... Derridderrid.... That's right...  Good job)

I almost peed in my pants...  I KNEW this was too good to be true.  I knew it.

“HOUND!!!  Wait a MINUTE... (everyone has turned by this point)  Look what in the WORLD I found... A penny... can you believe it...???  Here.  Take this with you.”  He says.  We were only like 20 feet apart and he was screaming like he was a drill sargeant with a smile....  He proceeds to walk up to my date and me and puts the penny in my hand, rubs my head like i'm a rascal and walks back to the car.  I don't remember how long I stood there but when I turned around my date was already at the ticket booth....

It took me YEARS to look back at that story to appreciate it.  I am my dad's friend and at that point in time I was his little buddy.  He loved me and was just excited that I was growing up...  And I personally think he wanted to slightly sabotage my image...  Blue Jean shorts and a shortsleeve button down I'm sure...  Well guess what?  All things come around full circle.  I can't wait till I drive my son to the movies with his first date.  :)  I've had years to plan what I'm going to do... Mua ha ha ha haaaaa.

Now, growing up, I swore to myself that I would not grow up like my father, that I wouldn't embaras people or be loud and a goofball.  HA!!!  Yeah right....

I never knew how much like him I'd actually be.  I definitely never thought I would see the world as he did.  Full of life and opportunity to love.  I'm noticing more and more these habits of mine that I have that I get from that man.  The way I sign my name, the way I talk on the phone, the way I mow the lawn and even the way I do dishes and even polish my boots...  It's all from watching him as I've grown up.

So let's skip ahead in life.  My father never really changed.  He's still the same loveable goofball.  We were planning on going somewhere to shoot our pistols this weekend and it didn't work out so we decided on lunch.  My wife at the time and I meet him for some good Mexican food @ Los Cucos.  Well he meets us at the door with a loud greeting and a shirt that states “I love my Bible and My GUN!!!”  Ha ha ha.  Classic.  Wonderful.  We walk in and the lady at the front asks, how many.  I hold my right hand up and extend 4 fingers, tucking my thumb down.  The fingers are evenly spread apart so they can be easily counted by the interrogator.  I did this and looked right in front of me to where my father was standing looking at the same person I was looking at.  He answered in the same fashion.  Right hand up, four fingers out, spread evenly apart.  We said “Four” at the same time just in case she didn't see how many fingers we were holding up.

It took me back for a second.  HA...  The old man is still one step ahead of me @ 65 years old.  We sat down at our table and both of us let the ladies in first.  We both let the waiter take their order before ours.  He then proceeds to tell me of the simple things in life and listen as I talk about my life.  We both even lean forward when listening to others.  When we crack a joke we both turn our heads away from the audience and laugh at our own joke b/c, honestly, who else are we telling them for?  We both get a dish with shrimp involved and just shoot the breeze.  Those kinds of things are a given, not an acquired taste.

As I look back on my relationship growing up with my father I can pinpoint the things he did that took me years to get used to.  The jokes, the goofiness even the way he would brush his teeth in the living room while I was trying to watch T.V., the way there were no secrets with my father and how life, not just his but everyone elses life was an open book to all those who wanted to hear about it and even those who had no choice because... as I've said... the man is loud.

I'm 29 now with my own family, my own values and my own morals and sets of ideas.  There isn't anything I have to have an acquired taste for when it comes to my father.  I'm used to it all.  I know what's coming next most of the time and I love it all.  He makes me laugh, hell, the man is still my hero.  He's been through the ringer and his Faith in God has never seemed to falter.  He is strong and opinionated and if you don't like his opinion it doesn't slow him down one bit.  He isn't trying to convince anyone of anything. 

I realized more today than any other day that I am the way I am partially due to that man.  All of my good habits and some of my bad ones are because I want to be like HIM!!!  I WANT to be so carefree and loving as he is.  I want to embarrass the crap out of my son just to keep his feet on the ground.  I want to be able to forgive like he can forgive and to love others like he can love others.. 

It's funny how I vowed to NEVER be like that man and now when I look at tomorrow or the next day I ask how he would live it.  When I'm thinking of how to be a good man I can look back and see where he succeeded and where he failed and implement that in my life.  I want to laugh at the stupid things he laughs at and I want to get a kick out of life like he does.  He's got it made.  He's got the girl by his side and 2 kids that love him very much and if you ask me, he's made it to the big leagues.

Josh and the Awkward Moment

It’s one thing to say that awkward moments are funny to remember and they are even better captured on film. Being in an awkward situation is a completely different story.

I remember when I was a kid, my sister would invite a boyfriend over and I’d show up into the living room wearing my Superman suit with cape rustling in the wind as I leapt from couch to lazy boy all to show how powerful I was in order to vanquish the villain and rescue Louis Lane (usually my mom but occasionally a Barbie or a pillow). Awkward for the boyfriend and sister but a massively awesome win for one little 8 year old Kal-El.

Changing directions. It’s July 16, 2010 approximately 2:01 PM. I’m at HEB getting Soda’s for the house on my lunch break. I figured while I’m there I might as well get some sunflower seeds and bread. Little did I know I was about to run into the most awkward public situation I would ever face. I run down the soda/cracker isle (why put soda’s with crackers??? When I drink a soda I never EVER think… “Hmmmm… You know what would be good with this… Some saltines….”) and grab the soda’s. Boo on you crackers.

I then successfully grab the bread. And then I round the corner to the next isle for the seeds and there it is. Right in front of the seeds… An abandoned old person in a wheel chair right where I need to go. At first I just stare. I’m investigating the situation. I approach the lady with all the caution I’d approach a pit bull chained to a tree named Scar. (If you never knew my grandmother, she was a sweet lady and when she completely gave into Alzheimer’s she became occasionally violent and could throw one HECK of a right hook. I know.) I realize this person cannot move nor is sound of mind. They are simply there. I look around. No one is there. By this point I’m completely uncomfortable. I’m thinking… “Really… REALLY!!!.... This is worse than abandoning a child.”

Now I’m not in a hurry but I’ve been waiting and by now I try to devise a plan that will enable me to get the seeds and not bother this lady’s resting place. It’s not like it’s an abandoned cart full of food. Granted the wheel chair has the same amount of wheels as the cart but the weight is all off the wheel chair isn’t carrying Sodas and Saltines… It’s carrying a person. I can’t just move it… ummm…. Her…

Then, all of a sudden, like a ray of hope I see the seeds I am hunting for in another place. Fair thee well strange Siren of the Trail Mix. You will hold me in your awkward gaze no more.

Overall. A successful trip.

Later That Day...

So I get this text from a “friend” over the weekend with a picture.  This picture displayed an image of something so desirable that men would wage wars to obtain this precious resource…

Later that day...  I get a text... (Actually it was just later yesterday around 3 or so)

Friend:  “Meet me at the Valero on the way home so you can pick this up.”
Me:    “Ok…  I get off at 5:30…  You sure you want to do this?”
Friend “Just be there.  Call me or text when you get close.”
Me:  “Ok.”

This was at 3:30 so you know for the next 2 hours or so I could barely focus or get any work done.
5:45 rolls around and I realized I’ve stayed late…  I bolt for the door not stopping for the pleasantries of goodbyes I normally dote on my co-workers…  They were relieved…  I get to the car and turn the key.  The car rumbles to life as if it were an F-16 fighter plane…  It felt like one too.  You literally get the best leg massage when you drive my Focus.

It’s raining and I have 2 options for getting home…  The back way… or the other back way…  I took the other back way down Spring Stuebner.   This was my first mistake…

I race down 45…  Take the exit and bank my right…  I come up to a sign… NO!!!  But it’s ok…  It’s a yield sign and I’m not obligated by law to stop.  The lane is clear and I make my move onto Spring Stuebner.  Things are going good and traffic is moving right up until Rhodes Rd.

The light is out and is mocking me with it’s flashy flash of red light.  And then… I get a text…

Friend:  “Where are you?  There are 2 cops in the parking lot.  Hurry.”
Me:  “I’ll be there soon…  Traffic”

So I’m sitting there knowing this deal could go bad at any minute…  So I make my move…  The lane is clear… for about 3 feet… I move up… This happens another 12 or so times.  And as we all know 12 times multiplied by 3 feet is 36 feet which was the exact distance needed for my next right turn… AND I TURN!!!  With all the fury the focus can muster I turn…  I take my right and I speed down the road at a good 30 miles an hour…  I would have gone faster but 30 MPH in the Focus is optimal massaging speed for my legs…

The road ends…  It ENDS!!!  UGH!!!  My frustration… I turn all the way around and enter back into the waiting line of traffic…  Like walking into a bog or a swamp…  I look at the clock… I’ve only lost 8 minutes and I’m literally 3 cars behind where I just was anyway….  Just hurt pride and some lost gas…
I make it through the light and I text my “friend.”  I’ll be at Kuykendahl in 5 minutes…  I get through the mocking flashy flash and hit Kuyk in less than 5 minutes…  30 seconds to spare…  I text my contact and let them know I’m almost there.

Me:  “I’m almost there.”
Friend: “Ok… I parked away from the cops.”

I get there.  I see my “friend” AND the 2 cops.  YIKES!!!  I wonder if they’re waiting for me because as I forgot to mention, I ran a stop sign in front of a cop just 3 miles back…  “Are they on to me?”  I think aloud…  By this point I run over Zombieland Rule No. # 15 “When in doubt, know your way out.”  BUT NO TIME!!!  I pull into the spot next to the dealer and she jumps out…  I roll down the passenger side window and say “Thank you so much.”  She nods and gets back into her car after we exchange minimal pleasantries.  After all…  She has to go grocery shopping and I have to get home…

I got what I wanted anyhow.  I pull away thinking… My god I’ve sold myself out.  I didn’t even thank my friend properly for this …  this wonderful thing… my addiction… My… PRECIOUS!!!!

By this time I don’t care.  I’m like a fiend.  My mouth is watering… Oh just one taste… Just one… I swear…  Just one little taste of it and I’ll put it away…

Then I did it…  No spoon for proper preparation… I remove the plastic cap…  I take my right finger and shove it into the container holding my precious…  It’s cold and has the proper consistency…  Perfection…  My perfect Precious (if by this point you haven’t realized I AM referencing the Lord of the Rings character Golem).  I pull my finger out and place it to my lips.  It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.  (That’s What She Said)

My fear for the cops subsided as I pull away.  I’ve gotten my fix.  I’m not afraid anymore…  I’m… I’m in perfect Nirvana.  I get home and remove the package, unlock my door and head to the fridge.  I open it and clear away the perfect spot for my Precious.  And there she will sit for the next 2 days or so…  Hey… It’s hard to put away 2 gallons of banana pudding in one sitting…  Things this good in life are worth taking your time on…

Josh and the Slow Mo Flashback

So I was talking to a friend today and we were talking about how long we knew each other...  Turns out we went all the way back to Kindergarten...  My dad used to throw my friend and me in the air.  We sat next to each other all the way up to the 5th grade.  So as we talked about the joys of being tossed in the air my friend said...

 “Oh to be that age again without a care in the world.”

Of course we've all said that and thought that from time to time but this statement struck me differently for a reason.  Suddenly a revelation hit me...

But just thinking of the beauty of simpler times took me back to the flashback I had just days before.

(Just days before...)

Well, it finally happened.  I finally had my Field of Dreams moment (Slow Mo Flashback).  Now for those of you who know the movie with Kevin Costner you'll know that it has a lot to do with baseball.  It's kind of the theme in the movie...  If you ask my mother she'll just tell you she knows that Costner was the lead...  Oh how society decides who's hot and who's not.  I thought Costner was pretty good looking until I saw Waterworld...    I mean... how many of you reading this has anything good to say about Water World (the movie, not the really cool theme park that, though fun, you were ready to leave by the end of the day) other than Dennis Hopper was the bad guy?  What about the Postman...  It was like Braveheart but in a post apocalyptic world where Costner (a postman) forms an army to secure postal employment...

I mean.. really... the world ends and you are still expecting mail???  What kind of person are you???  Who expects mail when the world ends... You are selfish and you have too high of expectations... I don't know if this relationship is going to work out because, when the world ends.... the last thing I'm going to spend my credits on is postage b/c we all know that Costner won't be around to lead UPS into the battle...

Ok... Moving on b/c all of that was WAY off the subject.

So we were talking about field of dreams... When I say I had my field of dream moment, what I meant to say was, I had my first nostalgic slow mo flash back....  I relate the 2 b/c in the movie, Costner's character builds this baseball field and the ghost of his father and other baseball greats show up and relive their glory days...  There is this scene where Costner just sits back an watches this living flashback unfold...

I had that same moment… Allow me to preface…

Here's the deal.  I grew up on Oakwood Dr.  Last house on the left by the water well.  This house is where most of my childhood memories come from...  It's the first place I jumped on a trampoline.  My first broken bone came from the driveway when I was riding in an old green wagon my grandfather made.  In this house laid the first bed I stayed up all night after my first kiss when I was in the 8th grade.  My first accident happened in that driveway.  That house saw me live, love, cry, screw up and succeed.

So after I moved out after my parents divorce and the house was put up on the market I would take frequent trips just to be near home as I remembered it.  Such good memories.  Anyway...  The other day I drive by the street just to look down the path I would always take when I was let off the school bus...  But before the school bus was a much more adventurous time in life...  It was the land of mystery…  A place of great lands…  this Oakwood Dr.

I had this old red tricycle when I was a kid.  It was my bike.  My first bike.  My first true friend that would go anywhere I asked it to go.  Together me and Red would venture into the yard and conquer all sorts of lands and ant beds and well sculpted landscape.  Red would take me places I never knew I could go and some places I knew I wasn't supposed to go... Like down the street... But that was the MOTHER of all adventures... It was so long and so far away from home... Could I... NO... Dare I take such an adventure????  I mean I'd never seen someone blaze the trail that I planned to blaze.  I'd seen there grown up Big Wheels transport them from their house down the street but I'd never seen a sould weather the open elements down to the end of the street.  It was the New World to me...

So there I was...  Faced with the same questions that Napolean and Columbus were faced with... Conquer the world or die trying... But first... Crackers and juice...  Hey... You can't expect a super hero/fireman/dinosaur hunter and his buddy to go such a distance (.3 miles) on an empty stomach.

So I rock the crackers and slam some juice and head out the back door...  I see Red safely in his spot in the garage.... Out of the sun so the metal seat doesn't burn me when I jump on.  With a little coaxing Red and I are out of the garage, off that little 1 inch drop and down the driveway... My heart is racing...  I did just finish crackers and juice in record time.  I fly down the driveway... I could have done it with my eyes closed...  I bust a right onto the street.  It's bumpy b/c though it's paved it's not smooth... It's graveled.  But that doesn't matter now because there is so much freedom in the air I can taste it... I wave to Mrs. Kelly watering her plants and she waves back...  Clearly she does not comprehend the momentous occasion.

I got to the end of the street and look down towards my house.  The distance is incredible... This is the feeling that soundtracks are made from.  This is where people coined the phrase Carpe Diem and Vini Vidi Vicci...  And so it was... I had come... I had seen... Red and I had conquered this beast known as Oakwood Dr.

Now this is where my flashback started... The road home from the long journey.  I saw Red and me as we started off down the road...  It had that weird sepia look to it...  Ya know, that one they use in old west pictures you take when you go on vacation with your family...  The one where they give your dad the bottle of Gin and your mom the rifle and you're sister looks like she works for a Madam and you are in suspenders with a rake....  LAME!!!  Ok... So there I am with Red..  I wipe my brow and stare over the conquered land....  I got this far...  I am unstoppable at this moment...  I think.. "There's no way Louis Lane would say no to me now..  So I wipe my brow... Stand up....  Stretch my legs and prepare for the journey home.  After all... the journey took so much out of me... I'd make it back just in time for a nap.... and right before the end I'd swear that flashback me looked back at the here and now me and waved as he took off...

All of a sudden I'm back in the Shakesmobile (Ford Focus) blinking like I was coming out of a dream...  I swear I saw my little self look back and wave…  I thought to myself...  Dude... too much estrogen...  This moment was way too intimate.  I need a movie with testosterone…  Some pose apocalyptic world in which the polar ice caps have melted and all the earth is covered in a flood… floating cities and explosions….  No not a remake of “Noah’s Ark”  I need to watch Waterworld.

Back to the here and now...  I had to look back to realize how wonderful life was.. Hindsight IS 20/20.  I didn't realize how beautiful life was when I was there in that moment...  I was just being a kid..  However had I not looked back I would not have seen how awesome life was at the time.  Sometimes I have to take a look back to see the beauty that was all around me because a lot of the times I only focus on the things I don't have or haven't done yet...  I have to look back to see how amazing life was and it helps me to appreciate how amazing life is if I just take a moment to appreciate where I’ve come from.  No matter what path I took to get here I’m here now and life is what it is….

I wonder, do I have to wait until this moment passes to truly appreciate it.  Will it be another 29 years before I appreciate what I have now???  I hope not.

Well friends, thanks for joining and if you haven’t seen Waterworld or The Postman you must do so.  You will be blown away.
Well... you'll at least be speechless.... after all the expletives you hurl at your television for allowing you to see such... breathtaking cinema.

-Joshua

Josh on Going Home

Objective:  Obtain dessert at any cost

• Cookies and Cream
• Anything else with chocolate

Destination:  Friends house for game night

5:30 PM 9/10/2010
Official Statement

“So 5:30 hits and I'm done with work so I toss up the man purse over the shoulder.  WHAT!?!?  I said it... Man purse... I'm not that proud...  Ok... So I toss the man bag (better?) over the shoulder and wave adios to the guys in the office and jump in the Massage chair on wheels (Ford Focus).[1]”  (Please make due note of my first official footnote.)

I place the call to my contact:
She picks up.

Contact:  Hello?
Me:  Hello.  What am I getting? Contact:  I don't know.
Me:  Well... narrow it down for me...  Pie or ice-cream (These are the obvious choices in desert generes if I'm only given 2 choices....  You have pie, cake, cookies, ice cream and pastries (which includes but not limited to those cream cheese filled glazed nom nom’s and donuts)  Let's be honest cookies are an easy last place and cake has been good to me....  But Ice Cream and Pie make it every time...  If I want “cake” it will be an ice-cream cake.  Sorry normal cake but you're old and used up...  I've had you since I was 1.  That's almost 30 years of my life that I gave you.  It's been one hell of a ride and I promise you, it's me, not you.  Please don't.  I'm moving on)

Contact:  Ice Cream.  Cookies and Cream Naturally
Me:  Naturally
Contact:  Anything with chocolate
Me:  On it!

I hang up the phone and slide onto Woodlands Pkwy from Kuykendahl...  I had just gone home to change clothes after work...  What did I put on?  Glad you asked.  Let me preface quickly.  I have this guy I know that can rock any outfit in my opinion.  Well one day I saw the guy jammin some camo cargo shorts and a blue long sleeve button down...  So what did I do?  I got some foolish idea that I could pull it off.  (I've literally been planning on wearing this outfit since I saw my friend sport it and I wanted a public audience b/c honestly I thought I'd be breathtaking)  So I throw on the camo shorts and the blue button down.  I roll up the sleeves naturally b/c that's just the rule. I put my flippy flops on to complete the ensemble.  I'm thinking I'm the shiz.  I get to Walmart.  Grab the Ice Cream.  I notice people looking more than they normally would.  “OH GREEEAT!”  I knew instantly what it was....  The outfit.  YIKES!!!

So I pull out of the store and I know exactly where I am.  I grew up just 4 miles to the left.  I used to run these streets in high school.  That's right.  Me... and my letter jacket...  with all those Choir patches and bible verses to show everyone I'm a Christian.  Ran the streets I tell ya.

I also know exactly where my destination is.  So I take a right and I'm trying to hurry b/c they've just ordered the Chinese food for dinner and I got the healthiest thing anyone can get when it comes to Chinese delivery...  Crab Puffs...  A whole mess of em'.

As I travel down the road I suddenly realize I'm going the wrong way.  I'm SUCH and idiot I think.  I know exactly where I am and I should have taken a left and not a right.

“How did I make such a silly mistake?” I asked aloud.  “Because you weren't coming from home.”  I answered, again, out loud.  When I was growing up, I had this thing with directions.  I could get anywhere as long as I left from home.  It was a solid place and I knew where I was going if I left from home.  If I left to go somewhere from another starting point I would need written directions in front of me.  And every time I’ve ever been lost in my life there has seldom been few places I long for more than home.

There is something about going home that calms fear, gives rest when I'm weary and I find that it's a place to start over when I've gone too far off the path.  It's a place where I can leave the past behind.  It's a given that I'm accepted there and loved there.  It's the calm place when life's crazy storms and disasters strike I can find shelter @ home where people love me and want me to succeed.

There are so many times in my life where I am in familiar territory and I think I know where I'm going so I take the right when I should have turned left and I just keep driving the wrong direction.  I mean, I know where I'm at right?  I grew up here.  I'm a pro.  I got this.   When the reality is had I just remembered where I had come from I would not have made such a foolish choice.

I have made many foolish choices in my life because I have too often forgotten where I come from.  I let my upbringing and my faith be overtaken by selfish desires.  For those who know me it's not a surprise but for those who don't it's probably not that much of a stretch for you to know I've been sober 1 year 8 months.  On my journey (you know, that journey that comes once in a lifetime...  That one that changes your life forever) of drug addiction I left a wake of disaster including broken hearts, shattered friendships, debt, broken trust and bad credit.  I took that right instead of that left...  I thought “Oh yeah I got this.”  “I'm in control.”  “I deserve this.”  Insert whatever justification you want right here.  So  I got help and spent some time in a rehab.  That place was no joke there.  It's no ordinary rehab...  If a Superman were a crack head this rehab would be his Kryptonite.  (Yes I get that Kryptonite to the real Superman was a BAD thing and rehab to a drug addict is a good thing but just go with it.  If I get any nerd mail about Kent, Superman or Krypton I’m going to go Batman on somebody.)

All of that destruction.  All of that grace, love and mercy that was needed and given me by loved ones and my God.  All because I forgot where I came from.  I didn't leave from home so naturally I got lost.  I can't help but think of the prodigal.  Even he knew this simple truth when he had lost everything.  When on his journey he left a wake of destruction broken hearts, debt, shattered trust...  He knew what he had to do.    He had to start over.  He had to start from home.

I find that sometimes the only way I can seem to remember where I come from is to humble myself and go back there.  When I’m lost, there’s no better place than being home.

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!!!

I didn't get to finish my story.  We were talking about me being in Wal-Mart and people were taking extra notice of me and I had come to the realization that my outfit was not working for me even though it was clearly working for my friend.

So I get to my destination and walk in.  I'm there for a few minutes and my friend’s wife, whom I'm also good friends with says...  “I like what you got going on there...”

My shoulders drop and I throw my head up in exasperation.  It was one of those awkward moments where you know your outfit is awful and you have that one really encouraging person in the room that will go out of their way to make sure you don't feel awkward about the clothes your wearing...

So because of that episode I have now coined the phrase “Rockin the Burcaw” – defined below.

Just as I'm about to be crushed under the weight of Rockin the Burcaw I realize that there are crab puffs that demand my attention.

And all was right with the world.

                        -Fin

Rockin the Burcaw – when you've decided that you saw someone wearing something so totally awesome and epic and you are under the impression anyone could pull off the same thing when in reality only a small percentage of the population can pull such an outfit off.

Josh Burcaw, my friend, is in that small percentage.

Rockin the Burcaw includes but is not limited to Camo Cargo shorts and/or a blue button-down long sleeve shirt.

Usage:

Jane Do:  “What in the world are you doing wearing those camo shorts and blue button down with the sleeves rolled up?”

John Smith:  “I'm Rockin the Burcaw!”

 [1]    You'll notice I've referenced the Focus before.  I call it the Shaking Machine or Massage Chair b/c that's what you get when you drive it....  A massage.  Oh yeah...  That's right...  I paid extra for feature.  Not everyone has that ya know....

Josh and The Inbetween

Ok.

So I get home Saturday from running some errands and I get out of the car and approach the deck and Shana says...  “We have an issue.”  I'm thinking... Awww crap... She found out I ate all the ice cream.  I specifically left the empty container in the freezer to stand in as an imposter until I could buy another half gallon of ice cream, eat that down to the level where Shana saw it last, and then make the swap.  The plan was flawless.... (The plan has worked in the past... many times...)

So casually I say “What's up?”  She informs me that our window was broken and there was a rock on the ground.  Well on the way into the neighborhood I saw the landlord over the property and let him know what happened.  Now this guy is a talker.  A very sweet man, don't get the wrong idea, he can just talk.  So, though I went there to report our first vandalism (WOOT WOOT) I ended up staying to talk about how it's so sad these kids are like this, it's the parents fault, got to talk about his month and a half vacation and...  some good news.  They are going to fix my fence and window.

So 30 minutes later I head out back home.  Short drive.  Not even enough time to listen to my favorite song.  Little did I know what I was about to get into.  Please enjoy.  Yeah that's right.  The real story starts here and yes what you just read was really just pointless and part of my day.  But isn't that what we're doing here.  Getting to know me?  You're so pushy.

So I'm on the way home from the neighborhood office and I have to pass my neighbor's house and their 18 year old son was outside.  We'll call him Blink b/c he looks like he'd fit in with Blink 182.  So Blink was sitting outside and rolled my window down and called him over to see how he was doing.  Now, as I was telling him about the rock through the window these kids passed.  And Blink said, ever so loudly as the kids approached, “I bet it was ONE OF THOSE LITTLE PUNKS!!!”  It would have been awkward if I could have stopped laughing.  It was so out of nowhere and these kids weren't punks.  I'm pretty good at judging how much punk a kid has in him and if I were going off of a scale from 1 to 11 (why not 10?  Well because it goes to 11) ***BONUS ROUND – If you can tell me what movie is referenced in the () you get a prize***

So if I were going on the scale, 1 – 11, 1 being least amount of punk in a kid and 11 being the most these kids didn't go over a 4.  And that would be if they went all Scarface on the neighborhood.  Plus, it was just one kid in particular, the blonde one.  I'm like... Blonde guys aren't punks... they're panzy's...  What?  Really???  You're telling me you'd be more frightened of a grown man with long flowing blonde hair over some Rastafarian in black dreadlocks????  Yeah.  You'd be more likely to pick a fight with blondie b/c you think you could wax the floor with the Barbie.  Sorry...

So we have some 11's in the neighborhood.  HA... These kids are our future?  Shame!  I heard it's the parents fault.

So Blink proceeded to tell me that the kids were messing with his 13 year old sister.  “DING” I’m thinking.  That's what it is.  These guys aren't punks; they just picked the wrong girl to flirt with.  So I head home which is the exact direction said punks were headed.  I start to pass them on the way home.  Well I slow down and exert enough authority and kindness to show I wanted to genuinely show care to this kid.  Our conversation went as follows:

Me:  Hey man, heard you and my neighbor don't like each other.
Kid:  Yeah he thinks I was messing with his sister.
Me:  Well, were you?
Kid:  No.
Me:  Did you look at her or talk to her at all?
Kid:  Yes.
Me:  Mistake no. 1 kid.  (At this point I laugh a little and he relaxes.)
Kid:  He almost knocked me off the bridge.  (a fall that wouldn't phase my grandmother) Just tell him to leave me alone and that I'm a good dude.
Me:  You got it kid.  I'll look out for you.  Don't talk to the girl anymore.

I instantly said ok to passing this information along without thinking about it.

So I relay the message to Blink all while laughing and Blink was more than grateful and shared a few more pleasantries of how he could exert all 18 years of man hood balled up into fist and teach Barbie a lesson....  I say goodbye.  He nods.  He's a good kid and I teach him guitar lessons so I feel a sort of responsibility to a small degree hence my interaction.

Here's what I relate that with.

Has anyone ever been the in between guy for 2 people who like each other.  This mainly happens in high school and if it's happening to you and you're 25 or older...  Please stop hanging out with high school kids.  It’s getting creepy by this point for you.  Cut your losses.  Move on.

“Operation In Between” occurs when a middle man is either forced or bribed to pass information between 2 people who like each other but are to afraid to tell each other or there is something stopping them from getting together like in Romeo and Juliet. I think Mercutio was one.

This instance also occurs when you are required to pass information from the bully to your friend that he will be outside by the flagpole @ 3:15pm and if he's not there it will only get worse.

Am I making sense.

I never volunteered for that part when I was growing up, but since I'm pretty good at talking to people and all my friends knew that fact, I was always automatically that guy.  They were vultures when it came down to needing an “In Between.”  Even people that I didn't even know would come up to me and start the conversation.  It went pretty much like a drug deal.

The convo would go so something like such:

“So I ear you know that loca Sarah.  I ear ju have Spanish wheat her.”  (I don't know why the kid I'm thinking of sounds Hispanic, he was white in my flashback.  The Spanish accent just fit more and in referencing drug deals it worth noting that there are very few people that are LESS scary than a Hispanic drug dealer.  Freaky fast and quick to angry.  So if you want your side note, in your posts, to sound realistic, you've got to sell it.  And if you have to sell a story about a drug deal, make sure the dealer is Hispanic.)

“Yeah I know her.  And Yes I have Spanish with her.  Why?”
“-Just find out what she thinks uh me alright vato?”
“Ok......”
“-And if you mess dis up gringo, I cut you.”

And when he walks away from me he lightly slaps me in the face like the Godfather would as if to say... “You're alright with me kid.”

Kid???  What are you talking about, I'm older than you and I'm doing YOU a favor.  Pay me double or I'll tell Sarah you like boys.

Did anyone keep up?  In the words of comedian Daniel Tosh, I like how I start a joke with everyone’s attention and continue it on until only 2 people are following along.

Moving on.
I'm telling you random people who needed an “In Between” guy could sniff me out like a lion on the hunt can sniff out the sick gazelle in the herd or the slowest Zebra tagging along at the end.

I must have sucker written on my forehead.

Well once again my services were called upon.  Once again I did what I do best.  It was as if I passed information in between 2 lovers who were in a quarrel and saved the day.  It's not often my services are needed, but when they are I'll be there.

Why me you ask?  How can such randomness occur in one man’s life.  Well…  The truth of it is…

I am...  The second most interesting man on Earth...  Stay hungry my friends...

Zombieland Rule #32 "Enjoy the Little Things"

Zombieland Rule #32 “Enjoy The Little Things”

As I was sitting with a good friend of mine we talked.  As this friend proceeded to tell me how they didn’t decide to purchase a town home this friend told me that most of his entire life is lived within a 10 mile radius (aside of the numerous cruises this person takes every year.  The next one is in October on Halloween to Jamaica).  I asked how this friend was doing and they proceeded to tell me about their day so far.

Me: “So how are you.”
Friend “You know I’m really happy.  I got up this morning @ 6am (foolish I think, nothing happens at 6am) and went to a bible study at the “Y”.  I worked out.  Came home and walked “pooch” (This is a dog… a pug to be exact).  Took a shower, went to the VA.  Now I’m meeting you for lunch.  After this I’ll go home and take a 2 hour nap.  I have a meeting @ 7 and it will be over around 8:30 or 9pm.  I’ll meet up with my lady and possibly have a drink and go dancing.”

Wow…  Simplicity.  Enjoy the little things.  I hope that when I’m this man’s age, which is to remain disclosed but we’ll say around 65, I can enjoy the “little things” in life.

This got me to thinking…  I mean why don’t I do that now?  Why to I complicate my life with things that are meaningless?  Why spend time and effort on relationships with things that aren’t real?  It almost seems that I try to complicate my life with things and stuff that suffocate the simple things…  The things that make life worth living.

My worries include how am I going to make it in 10 years if I don’t have a degree.  How am I going to accomplish the “next big thing.”  As I sat and spoke with my friend they talked about life and their worries unfolded as we spoke.  Will I one day be perplexed with worries about where I’ll go dancing with my sweetheart, will I make nap time, will I be able to get over the bum knee in order to go dancing after nap time.  Will the Alaskan cruise be all I hope it to be?

As we left lunch in the rain we stopped @ the exit to one of the crappiest sandwich places ever (Subway) and had our final goodbye’s.  As I watched him run out I realized how much I respected this man.  I realized that he has taught me so many life lessons by just letting me into his life and listen to his stories and share meals with him and his family and see his interaction with his friends and family.  I have learned more from him than he probably thinks he can teach.  For that I will always be grateful.  Today he taught me to enjoy the little things in life.  They make it worth living.

Thanks dad for being such a cool guy.  I love ya.