August 28, 2006

• Car Salesmen, Clods, and Potty Breaks

  Q:  How can you tell if a car salesman is lying?   A:  His lips are moving.

  
  

  Q:  What is the difference between a car salesman and a lawyer?   A:  The lawyer might have some ethics.

  
  

  Q:  What is the difference between a car salesman run over on the highway and a rat run over on that same highway?  A:  There will be skid marks in front of the rat.

  
  

   Did you hear the joke about the car salesman who went to heaven?  That IS the joke... 

  
  

  Dena and I have had a great adventure with a certain as-of-yet-unnamed auto dealership. (If any of you out there are car salesmen, I am not trying to offend you.  It is only that we have just dealt with some that are so quintessentially archetypal that they give all car salesmen bad names.)  Details may be forthcoming, but a word of warning to anyone who might be having to deal with car salesmen in the near future.  Get EVERYTHING in writing  AND have witnesses!!!  There may not be room for a snake in the grass if there is a car salesman around…

  
  

  But on to Lorena.  I called Mexico last night but was unable to talk to Stephi or Lorena again.  I will try again tonight.  Stephi was spending the night at Lorena’s sister’s (Margarita’s) house, so I don’t know just what is up with that.  She is supposed to stay in the house with Lorena, so I suspect that her lodgings indicate that she is still ill.  Hopefully, all is well, though, and I can give you an update tomorrow. 

  
  

  Dena posted the following message for Lorena yesterday:  Como estas? Ok, that's about all I know in Spanish, so we'll have to change to English. I just wanted to let you know that we are thinking of you and praying for you daily. I know we haven't stayed in touch, but I think you remember how busy a mother of young children always stays....right? I just signed Sierra and Cody up for soccer, so now I am officially a soccer mom...just like you. Sierra is in Kindergarten now and Cody just started 3rd grade. They both ask about you often and want to know when we can go to Mexico for a visit. We hope that we can do that in the near future, but what we really want is for you to come visit us and see our new (not so new, really) house. You'd love it.
  
  We miss you and love you very much. Remember that you are always in God's care.
  
  Dena and family

  
  

  August 26 was Melanie’s birthday – and I missed it even though Dena sent me an email reminding me not to do so.  I am so sorry, Mel.  I love you, and it just seems that I am constantly forgetting something or messing up somewhere.  I can’t believe that that little baby from Seoul could possibly turn into the beautiful woman (and Mommy) that you are – and could have an equally beautiful daughter as is Taylor.  We love you, and we wish you many, many more wonderful birthdays, each better than the last.  I am so blessed to have you in my life.

  
  

  In the late 1970’s, I was home from college helping Dad till up a garden.  The soil was hard clay, the weather was typical Texas good-gosh-amighty-who-left-the-oven-on hot, and I was as hot and dusty as the weather was.  Dad and I would take turns fighting the tiller until we were almost dead from exhaustion.  Melanie was about four years old, and she was harassing me royally by picking up large, baked clay clods and chunking them at my feet.  

  
  

  Finally Dad told her, “Melanie, Mike is working!  Don’t throw things at his feet while he is working.  We have to get this garden tilled!”  She quietly acquiesced, and I stopped having to worry about having one of my feet amputated by a clay missile.  I fought the tiller some more until I was again blinded by sweat and almost overcome by heat.  Dad took over the tiller once again as I stood exhausted, bent over with my hands on my knees and my head hanging, huffing and puffing super-heated-dust-laden air, trying to keep from passing out.

  
  

  At that moment, WHAM; a clod only slightly smaller than the state of Rhode Island smashed my right foot.  Melanie laughed delightedly as I screeched and hollered in agony, holding my injured right foot in my hands as I danced around like a whirling dervish on my left foot.

  
  

  Dad killed the tiller and turned accusingly to Melanie, asking, “Melanie, what did I just say to you about not throwing things at Mike’s feet?”  Melanie looked up at Dad innocently and said, “But he wasn’t working!  He was just standing there!”

  
  

  Ah, memories, Melanie.  Because it might embarrass you for me to post it here on the blog, I won’t even mention the time that same summer that I was playing with you on the Bluff Dale School playground and you told me you urgently needed to go to the bathroom.  I hoisted you up onto my shoulders, jumped on my bike, and began pedaling furiously toward home.  And we almost made it, didn’t we?  We almost made it -- before my shirt, my pants, my undies, and EVEN MY SOCKS got DRENCHED even though it wasn’t a very hot day.  Lucky for you that I am so thoughtful as not to mention that little incident here…

  
  

  We love you, Melanie.  I pray that you have a huge number of birthdays…

  
  

  Gina, sorry that Stephanie left for Mexico before you got to talk to her.  I will tell her that you are trying to get in touch with her.  She will love to hear from you.

  
  

  Thank you all for your support.  We love you.  Lorena apparently continues to improve daily.

  • 9:41 pm
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