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Name: Timothy
Birthday: 4/14/1979
Gender: Male
Interests: Spirituality, Movies, Literature, or anything with a solid story.
I live for relationships, the job is for groceries and passing time.
Sweets. Pizza. Sports, especially football.
Expertise: Anything I put my mind to...or so I was told when I was growing up.
Perhaps I'm just an expert at looking thoughtful.
Occupation: Education/training
Industry: Education/Research
Message: message me
Member Since:
6/8/2005
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| I knew this town was creepy, but when I saw a lady carting her two Dachshunds around in a dual-seat stroller this morning I knew why. Residents of Lakeside treat their dogs like children. They feed them sprinkled donuts and bottled water. They smile and say, "Aren't they adorable."
I reply with one of those smiles that reveals no teeth, my eyes darting to the left in the lying position. Never trust a man who glances to the left. Never trust a lady who pushes dogs around in a stroller. Never trust an overweight person who gives you exercise tips. Never trust a gas-station attendant who includes in her directions "Hang a Louie."
These are all tells--signs of bluffing. We all do it, consciously and no so. People who live in a gated community are masters of deception, convinced that the 'corruption that is in the world by lust' (2 Pet 1:4) can be subjugated by a gate, entrance fee, and several patrolmen canvasing the area on golf cart. According to Jesus, Hell is supposed to have the gates (Matt 16:18), not spiritual retreat centers.
Liz and I just closed on a house. It is a beautiful 1918, 3-bedroom, 2-bath, 2-baby, 1-cat home. The utilities are all new. We purchased a piano from the previous owners. Life with the Leesburg Grace Brethren Church is going swimmingly (Church Blog). This weekend I visited with Rhett Edward's Delaware Youth crew; Corey Drake played the music, and sang back up with the sermon.
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| I played Quadrants on the Winona Lake lawn: tipping, diving, tossing, winning. I like games that I can win without breaking too great a sweat. As you get older, though, the sweat breaks faster. Deodorants should be age-rated.
My office at the church was bright white when I walked in. The welcome was blinding, though not heavenly. Florescent lights glared from the ceiling. My first official order of business was to soften the atmosphere. I needed a place to study and occasionally fall asleep. Two gallons of green and a few floor lamps later, I think I have a healthy work environment. Now if we could just remedy the dial-up Internet situation... | | |
| I got a Bluetooth for thirty dollars. After the lady at Verizon filled my bag with $150 of unsolicited and to-be-returned goods, I figured I could spend a small amount on the hands-free device. Of course, in the spirit of shady service, the hands-free device was also charger-free. This all happened in Warsaw, IN. Perhaps it was an omen, telling me and Liz not to return. Too late. When I came back to Denver, I received a replacement charger. I don't think they believed me that the package was missing the plug-in piece. "I've seen that happen before," the service representative said, coughing and glancing to her left. Hostage negotiators tell you that liars always look to their left. The Bible says the righteous man goes to the right (Ecclesiastes #:##). The only reason I bought the Bluetooth was so I could talk to people on my cross country trip without a phone awkwardly wedged between my ear and shoulder. I hate that pose. I would only use the Bluetooth in my car, I said. But I had to test it first. So I used it doing the laundry, and had never enjoyed folding so much. Then I used it for dishes. And never enjoyed rinsing so much. Yesterday Liz called me when I was shaving. "Hold on a minute," I asked her. She heard a few beeps, and then I was talking hands-freely. Loudly. Shavingly. The Bluetooth is taking control of my life. This is just one more reason I need to get home. | | |
| Steve Nash was playing great until his nose split open. His trainer couldn't stop the flow of blood. They applied a medical putty called HemoStop. They affixed twenty layers of butterfly Band-Aids. At one point the blood got in his eye, so he flushed it with Aquafina water from a Gatorade cup. Then he wiped his wet eye with a Polo towel stamped with the NBA logo. I've never been fond of marketing, but this was product placement at its lowest form. Just another reason to hate the NBA. | | |
| The story begins with a need to get online; I had a Visa bill to pay, and I perform this through the modern art of ePay. Typically, I would perform this task from my laptop, desktop or haltertop. Unfortunately, my laundry was dirty, and my roommate (for the month) had taken his Dell with him to Ohio. My computer would not access the Internet without the proper IP address.
So I went walking. But this was no ordinary, Thursday stroll. Earlier that day, as a reward for delivering a workshop at an educators' conference, I received an invaluable reward. They gave me a pedometer. Nothing says, "For your hard work and dedication, Mr. Sprankle, we offer you this token of appreciation. May this pedometer serve you well."
They must have run out of mugs and pens.
But the true irony of the gift, is how much it delighted me. Burning within me was a revived passion to walk. I needed an excuse. An adventure. An errand. Hence, I remembered an outstanding debt, requiring payment by 5/5/07.
I raced to the nearest FedEx-Kinko's (0.86 miles; 1530 steps) to go online. As I walked, I carefully monitored my progress. One block in Cherry Creek (Denver) spans 0.12 miles (211 steps); to cross the street from Kinko's to Peaberry Coffee is a mere 0.03 (53 steps); while walking I can hold my breath for a distance of approximately 0.07 miles (125 steps).
Walking had never been so meaningful; being a pedestrian had never been so statistical. I had never been such a nerd
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