Working Out in the Twilight Zone

After repeated requests for more stories about me torturing myself in the gym I have decided to humor you all. (As one friend so gently phrased it, "It's just funny to imagine you working out." OK, that didn't happen but if I had more conversations with people like Jenn G., Shanta, Matt W., or Jessica G. it probably would have. Tell me I'm wrong about that, Jenn.)

Jacquie and I did have one pretty interesting workout experience recently that bears recounting. To really do it justice I would need Rod Serling, host of the Twilight Zone, to give a short monologue about an unsuspecting couple that stepped through the door of their local gym to find themselves in a dimension beyond space and time in which nothing is as you expect it to be. It really was bizarre.

First, we got to the gym and found the door propped open by one of the stationary bikes which is odd. It was then that we realized that the gym was emanating some kind of strange heat. Usually, the fans are blowing full blast and the air conditioning is cranked very high. This time it felt like I was entering a sauna. I didn't know if I could work out in a furnace or not. I had already worked up a pretty good sweat walking from the apartment to the clubhouse. But, I thought I would give it a try. That was when I noticed that the gym was filled with the distinct smell of vomit. I'm not kidding. It smelled like someone had walked around the gym strategically letting loose with regurgitated food. It was sick. Soon, we realized what had actually happened. The maintenance men had painted the walls. Apparently, they went to Home Depot and found some bizarre vomit scented paint and decided that it would be appropriate for those who are exercising and dieting to work out with that smell in their nostrils. You know, as motivation not to go and stuff yourself with a huge dinner right after you leave.

The smell wasn't the only strange thing though. There was one other guy in the gym who was working with the dumbbells while admiring himself in the mirror. This was not weird. I do that all the time. What was strange was that his hair was perfectly sculpted with hair gel, he was wearing a sleeveless concert T-shirt, nice jeans, and a brand new pair of heavy duty work boots. Honestly, the guy looked like he was just passing by the gym on his way to some "black-tie" Neo-Nazi Skinhead soiree and decided his biceps could use a few curls. It was strange but I let it go. It could be somewhat explained.

So, I jumped on the recumbent bike and was doing my usual ride. Things were going well. I was huffing and puffing pretty good and I was feeling the pain. Then, out of nowhere, a thin middle-aged woman wearing a perfectly nice business outfit breezed through the open door, cell phone to ear, in full conversation with an unknown friend and jumped on the bike that was facing mine. Here, she is having a chat with someone that she kept having to remind that she loved, cranking on the pedals fast enough to generate a large air flow in my direction. I was thankful for that. I was at the if-I-go-another-minute-I-might-pass-out stage of my ride and needed some cooling off.

However, she was also crippling my will. She wasn't breathing hard at all. When I work out I breathe so hard I can't even talk to myself silently in my head much less with a friend on the phone. And her attire wasn't making it easier. She's in a pant suit and high heels not perspirating at all while I'm in athletic shorts and a v-neck undershirt that is small enough to show part of my midsection with a neck-to-navel sweat stain that's only getting bigger. That and she was pedaling just as fast as I was. It actually became a bit of a contest. We made eye contact a few times and each time we did we both began to pedal faster. At one point I thought my left leg had fallen off. It felt like it. I realized that she was actually trying to show me up. Of course, she did.

So, I quit my ride and ran over to the weight machine to lift a little before I was totally desire-less. As I did, two boys walked in wearing full skater garb and carrying boards. They layed their boards down and walked to two different machines and started working out, one on the elliptical trainer, the other on a treadmill. So, here we are, our happy little family: a skinhead, a business woman, two skaters, and Jacquie and me. Just a normal day at the gym.

Soon, it became apparent that the skaters were not there to work off those extra pounds they had accrued from school cafeteria pizza. They were just messing around. At one point, one boy had the elliptical machine going so fast I couldn't see his feet. He looked like a cartoon character running in a cloud of dust. Then, the edge of his baggy jean shorts leg got caught under his foot and he actually fell off the machine. I thought he was hurt. Business woman though he was an idiot. She stormed out of the gym only to return a few minutes later with the manager who promptly kicked my new friends out. I think its good when we crack down on those under age exercisers.

In a huff of self-righteousness, business woman plopped herself onto a bench right beside me and started doing sit-ups. But, her frustration with the boys was so great that she had to tell somebody about it. That somebody was me. She turned to me with this real serious look and started pouring out her heart. I wish I could tell you what she said but I couldn't understand her. I couldn't hear her over the sound of my own breathing or over the sound of my heart beat pounding in my ears. So, I just nodded my head and when I thought she was finished I said, "Yeah, that's bad." I have no idea what I meant by that. It was just that her facial expression said that she was telling me something bad so I decided to agree with her face. It must have been the right thing because she nodded thoughtfully and went back to doing her sit-ups.

After all that excitement, Jacquie and I headed back to the apartment to stuff ourselves with a huge meal and to try to get the smell of vomit out of our clothes.

And Away We Go...Again

Like a phoenix from the ashes
Like Lazarus from his would-be tomb
Like the '05 Houston Astros from 15 games below .500
Like Rocky Balboa from the certainty of defeat
Like Ben Affleck's love life from the heartbreak of Bennifer I and Gigli
Like John Travolta's career from the bowels of Look Who's Talking

Ok, sorry, now I'm just starting to sound arrogant
So, here it is:

My blog is back.

Somehow, in the process of adding a site meter to the sidebar my beautiful wife "accidentally" erased my blog. We are not quite sure what happened, but after much hard work she was finally able to resuscitate the site. So, here it is. I know that you have all been waiting anxiously. I know that you weren't sure if you were going to make it without these entries. Well, put down the Prozac folks because we're back in business!

Actually, if I'm honest I was kind of relieved when it went down for a little while. Even though I created this blog and have spent a good deal of time nurturing it, I was growing somewhat bored and had run out of ideas of what to do with it. So, I was glad for the break. (Sidenote: The last two sentences pretty much encapsulate all the reasons that I will probably be a terrible father...just kidding)

So, now with a new blog, perhaps I will be able to think of plenty of stuff to write about. In fact, in my next blog I will share with you one of my exciting exercising experiences from my short blog hiatus. It was interesting to say the least. Until then, I hope that you all have a great day or week or month or however long it takes for me to write another entry.

Love,
SPRUCE

Neice #2

12-29-05
To quote Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrain from the Dukes of Hazzard: "Good news, Good news." Yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon, 28 years and 4 days after the birth of yours truly, a new blessing was added to the world: my niece, Kylee Jeanne. Yes, that's right, my little sister, Andrea and her husband Brannon had their first child yesterday and she is beautiful. At least, she looks beautiful in the pictures. I have been sick all this week and thought it would be better if I didn't show up just to pass along a much undesired infection. I did, however, send my faithful emissary, Jacquie, who supplied me with a ton of pictures and a phone call when she entered the room to see the baby for the first time. I actually got to speak to my sister as she held her child and I have to admit I was so proud of her. Her voice was so full of excitement and energy. I know that Andrea is going to be a great mom and Brannon will be a great dad. Also, there is no doubt that I will be an incredible uncle. I've had good practice with my other niece. All that and she is going to have an exceptional aunt...my sister Becky. I'm just kidding. I mean, Becky will be a great aunt, but really, Jacquie is already an incredible aunt to our niece and I know that Kylee is going to love her just as much as Mallory does. I hope to see Kylee in the next few days. Please be praying for continued good health for both my niece and my sister. Thanks.

Pictoral Dictionaries

12-16-05
I must warn you. If you read this you will find that my mind works in some really odd ways. As an example: Last night my wife and I were talking to some friends, Jamie and Doug, about another family that has a new baby. In the conversation Doug made the comment, "I haven't seen their new baby." Immediately, I began to think about how weird that was. I started wondering, "How old does a child have to be for us to start saying 'I haven't met their child'"? When do we stop seeing them as zoo animals or museuam exhibits and begin to refer to them as human beings. When I accidentally verbalized the question to my wife, she gave me that look that says, "What are you talking about?" Well, I had a similar incident this morning as I worked on a sermon for Sunday. As a preacher and teacher I deal mostly in words and concepts. I spend a lot of time thinking about my use of language and how it can be theologically formative and/or destructive for other people in the church. One of the things that I am often reminded of is that we have a slew of words in the church that are our words alone. They may be commonly used but our specific Christian interpretation of them often makes them unrecognizable to outsiders. I would include words like love, justification, sanctification, holy, worship, baptism, faith, hope, joy, and many others on this list. These have become part of our own specific language. The problem I find is that even our church members have a hard time defining many of the words we use. Try asking a group of Christians what the word "holy" means and see how many different answers you get. We often allow these words to become ambiguous concepts with all kinds of interpretations. I'm not saying that that is totally bad. For instance, I wouldn't want to pigeon-hole the definition of love. However, I also don't want to over-define these words so that they become impotent, lacking all their power. I am writing a sermon about the theme of reconiliation right now and I am having a hard time explaining exactly what that word means. So, I asked myself the question, "Why do we always try to define a word or a concept with other words or concepts?" Doesn't it seem somewhat strange to think that I could explain to you what one word means by using hundreds of other words? Sometimes I think we just muddy the water and making understanding an unattainable goal. So, here is my stupid question of the day. Wouldn't it be more meaningful to define words through actions or pictures? At least, some of the time. Instead of writing six pages on how to define reconciliation wouldn't it be more powerful to live it out? Really, I think Jesus did that on occasion. He could preach all day on service but I think the disciples learned more about the word when Jesus strapped on a towel and started scrubbing feet. He could tell you all you want to know about forgiveness and thankfulness but rather he just let a woman bathe his feet in perfume. He could tell you about innocence and trust but, instead he just p0inted at a group of kids clamoring at his feet and said, "Be like them." I think in some ways we are called to be walking, talking pictoral dictionaries. It is in our lives that people will understand the definition of love, holiness, patience, forgiveness, sacrifice, selflessness, and reconciliation. It is through our actions that we clear up the muddiness of our wordy attempts at defining biblical concepts. Now, believe me, I'm not trying to think my way out of a job. I still believe in the power of words, of preaching, of teaching, of prayer. But, I think we can become too logical, too focused on objective definitions and never truly discover what it means to be Christians, what it means to be humans created in the image of God.

I Wish I Had Been There

12-13-05
It has been a busy week here in Baytown and it seems only to be getting busier. My preacher/elder/boss/buddy/teaching partner/fellow blog enthusiast/Obi Wan Kenobi, David, decided to bug out of Baytown for a little vacation time so I am left with some extra duties this week. I hope the building is standing when he gets back. I make no promises. So, being forced to make this blog brief, I decided to post my vote for "News Story of 2005". I realize that this has been a year full of controversy, unparalleled disaster, pleasant surprises (My Astros made it to the World Series), and life-changing tragedy (the Nick/Jessica split still has me destroyed). However, there was one picture that caught my eye and never let go. So, without further ado. Here is my News Story of 2005:
Unfortunately for a 13-foot (4-meter) Burmese python in Florida's Everglades National Park, eating the enemy seems to have caused the voracious reptile to bust a gut—literally. Wildlife researchers with the South Florida Natural Resources Center found the dead python last week after it apparently tried to digest a 6-foot-long (2-meter-long) American alligator. The mostly intact dead gator was found sticking out of a hole in the midsection of the python, and wads of gator skin were found in the snake's gastrointestinal tract. The gruesome discovery suggests that the python's feisty last meal might have been too much for it to handle. Clashes between alligators and pythons have been on the rise in the Everglades for the past 20 years. Unwanted pet snakes dumped in the swamp have thrived, and the Asian reptile is now a major competitor in the alligator's native ecosystem. (See "Huge, Freed Pet Pythons Invade Florida Everglades.") "Clearly if [pythons] can kill an alligator, they can kill other species," Frank Mazzotti, a University of Florida wildlife professor, told the Associated Press. "There had been some hope that alligators can control Burmese pythons. … This [event] indicates to me it's going to be an even draw."
So, I know all of you will want to make this picture your wallpaper. Go right ahead. I mean, come on, is there really any other choice for news story of the year. I know that some of you might be thinking, "Oh, he made that up and Photo Shopped the picture." To you I say thank you for the confidence but I can't even figure out how to blur out my unsightly double chin and believe me I've tried. The other way you can know that I did not create this picture is that I would not have had a dead alligator sticking out of the python. It would have been either Toby Keith or Paris Hilton...or maybe both.
Have a great day and please don't release your Burmese Pythons into the wild. The alligators would appreciate it.
Feel free to offer your favorite bizarre news story of the year, decade, or century.

Happy Little Trees

12-6-05
One of my duties here at Lakewood is to write a weekly bulletin article every Monday. On most Mondays my brain is fried from Sunday so it is hard to come up with good articles every week. But, yesterday I decided to write about one of the strangest memories I have from childhood, my fascination with Bob Ross and The Joy of Painting. I don't know why the show interested me. It was slow and not exciting but it was amazing. He made me feel like I c ould paint beautiful landscapes. As misguided as I now realize that to be it did give me a sense of empowerment. That, and the guy's fro was just exquisite. Tell me you weren't slightly jealous of his hair abilities. The man was a force. Bob also had a way with words. In just a phrase he could make your world feel special. Take for instance these two gems I found. "God was having a good day when He made Alaska" and "Everybody needs a friend" Now, tell me you didn't smile when you read those. You can't help but smile when a guy can speak the truth with so few words. So, feeling nostalgic, I honor Bob Ross, the afro-wearing wisdom-whispering happy tree-painting guru of the PBS art world (small as that world may be). He may be gone but he is not forgotten. So, today on my blog is a chance for you to honor your favorite childhood pop culture hero. Who were you fascinated by when you were a kid?

Should've Seen It Coming

12-1-05
I realize that I have not blogged since thanksgiving so I decided to relate today one of the greater stories that came out of my holiday trip to Oklahoma City. I guess I'll start by saying that I return from my trip with a renewed sense of determination to exercise and lose weight but not for the reasons that you may think. The truth is I ate very reasonably or as reasonably as can be expected from a big fella faced with a large bowl of mashed potatos, buttermilk pie, and green bean casserole. I was sure to watch my portions and, in the end I was proud of myself. No, my new zeal for working out stemmed from one brief comment and one tiny hand motion from an unexpected source. On Wednesday, I travelled with my family from Oklahoma City to middle of nowhere East Texas to spend Thanksgiving Day with my grandparents. On the way there I asked my dad if he wanted to place bets on how long it would take my grandmother to make some crack about my weight. My grandmother is a sweet lady. She is also consistent...consistently worried about the size of my tummy. Over the years any weight I have gained has settled nicely in my midsection giving me a very substantial beer gut (sans the beer). It's hard to miss and my grandmother is sure to remind me of that whenever I see her. I have begun to track the amount of time it takes from the moment she sees me until the first comment is made. Her record is well under three seconds. So, this year I decided to include my dad in on the game. We briefly discussed how long it would take. What I didn't know then was that the record would indeed be broken this year just not by my grandmother. As we entered the house on Wednesday evening I quickly scanned the living room and failed to find my grandmother. I continued on glancing briefly down the hallway, suspecting that she may be lurking there armed with a develish grin and some new cutting remark. She was nowhere to be seen. As I began to turn my head a sudden realization came to me. I had been tricked. My grandmother's absence from the main room was simply a diversion. The real threat was waiting on my blind side. The plan had worked flawlessly. This year the joke about my weight would not come from my grandmother. No, this year the culprit would be my beloved grandfather. He came from my right. By the time I realized it it was too late to retreat. He had me. He was just finishing giving my sister a hug and he cut around her straight toward me. It was too much for me to handle. The words were bad enough. He said with a huge smile, "Looks like you got some good preacher material there." What made it worse was that as he said it he slowly reached out his hand and did the unthinkable: He patted my belly. Please explain that to me!!!!! It was as if he didn't want me to miss that the remark was aimed at stomach. No problem there. I knew what he was talking about. Why in the world would anyone find it necessary to pat a fat guy's belly? I don't know, maybe he thought his great grandchild was going to communicate to him...(wait for it)...from the depths of my womb!!!!!!!! I'm not pregnant. I'm not a buddha statue at a Chinese restaurant. In what world would it be appropriate for you to touch, in any way, my gut? None that I could think of. The action was so shocking that it took me a while to think back to the words he had said. When I did I was equally perplexed. "Looks like you got some good preacher material there." WHAT??????????!!!!!!!!!!!!! What does that mean? Are all preachers fat? Am I supposed to use my size as an illustration for a sermon? What? Now, it is true that I have eaten one too many unidentifiable but tasty casseroles at pot luck suppers. I have been fed well as a minister. But, really, "looks like you got some good preacher material there"? Is that necessary? So, the moral of the story is: if you know a guy with a big belly, don't pat it. Please, don't pat it. Blogger's Note: Once again, a disclaimer. I'm just having a little fun here. My grandparents are great people and I love them dearly. I wasn't offended by their comments at all. In fact, the whole incident truly was humorous, I just thought I would tell it in a way that emphasized how funny it really was. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Maybe some day I will write a blog that is more serious...but probably not.

Christmas Favs

12-5-05
Though my wonderful wife stubbornly refuses to start a blog she has, in a delirious state of Yuletide euphoria, offered to allow me to post a list of her favorite things about the Christmas season. As you will see, I have married a Christmas fanatic. She loves everything about it. It was a struggle to get her to narrow it down to 23. Perhaps later I will write a list of my favorite things about this season. It will not be as long. Oh, by the by, I have made a few brief comments in italics. Top Twenty Three Reasons Jacquie Loves the Holiday Season

23. Green and red peanut M&M’s
22. 24-7 Christmas music on Sunny 99.1 Here it starts the day after Thanksgiving!!!
21. Christmas Socks
20. Malls, every store imaginable decorated
19. 24 hour marathon of “A Christmas Story” on Christmas Eve Fra-gee-lay
18. Mint Sonic Blasts from Sonic in the Christmas cup
17. Sending out Christmas Cards
16. Getting Christmas Cards in the mail
15. Sitting by the fire (now if we only had a fireplace)
14. Buying my yearly dated Hallmark ornament
13. Wearing my pea coat, gloves and a scarf (not that that happens very often in Texas) and coming into a warm house and your face starts to tingle because it’s so warm. She does look cute all bundled up for cold weather
12. Wrapping presents and always putting on a bow
11. Driving around looking at all the houses that are decorated.
10. The smell of winter
9. An excuse to go shopping!
8. Counting down the days on the advent calendar
7. My precious husband’s birthday on Christmas Eve I may be the greatest gift Santa has ever given
6. Christmas crafts with my students.
5. Decorating the Christmas tree to Ann Murray Christmas 1985 and reminiscing with every ornament I am partial to John Denver and the Muppets Christmas but Ann Murray is good.
4. Charlie Brown Christmas
3. Candles lit, Christmas tree on, watching tv, bundled up drinking hot cocoa.
2. Candle Light service on Christmas Eve (Does Lakewood do that?) Highly Doubtful
1. POLAR EXPRESS
Well, I hope you enjoy my wife's list. She really is fun to be around at Christmas because she gets so into it. Thanks, Jac, for letting me post this.

Of Desperate Churches, Hurricanes and Blogs

11-23-05
I have recently found an exciting new pasttime: reading random blogs. In doing this I have learned a number of things that I had never known before. For instance, I now know more holiday recipes than I could ever sample. I now know that the Bible is full of mathematical codes that, if deciphered, make it possible to know what Jesus thinks about Social Security and George W. Bush. I have also found one blog devoted solely to the praise and worship of bean bag chairs (actually, it is a very funny blog authored by a newly found blog buddy, Josh). I have also learned that my blog so far fits into a certain category of blogging that I have recently discerned in my blog searches. This category includes all those blogs that are written with an air of feaux superiority in which young men like me try to keep up the appearance of cynicism, intelligence, and self-importance. These blogs are filled with false self-effacing humor, harsh criticism of society, and a high-fallutin refusal to be involved in anything sentimental or self-revealing. If I was serious about keeping my blog in this category I would begin this blog entry by saying something like, "I guess it is time to write my yearly obligatory list of things I am thankful for" or "Though I don't know that I am thankful for anything there are some things that are not as bad as others." But, neither of these beginnings represent how I feel: I am truly thankful. So, today I want to list all the things that I am incredibly grateful for. Four months ago I was working in Abilene as the city's most highly educated paper delivery man resigning myself to the fact that I may be delivering business cards well into my late forties if the job search didn't pick up. I was sure that there would never be a church desperate enough to hire an inexperienced 27 year old to be an associate minister. Jacquie and I both found ourselves praying constantly for at least some sign of interest from a church. Then, suddenly, our prayers were answered in a whirlwind of blessings. Lakewood Church of Christ in Baytown called to offer me a job. Two days later Jacquie had an interview with a school in Baytown. One week later, she was offered a job, we had found an apartment, and my days as a paper cutter were over. Oh, what a week and a half. Now, a few months later I am happy in my job and Jacquie feels settled in enough and happy enough to drop "it might be time to start having a baby" hints every other hour. Things are good. Gratitude is easy this year. One reason is that I have seen quite a bit since I have been in Baytown that makes me thankful. Katrina blew through Louisiana the week before I arrived and I spent a lot of time working with evacuees in Baytown. Then, three weeks later, Katrina's only slightly less ugly step sister, Rita threatened to come straight for Baytown, causing us to be caugth up in a wave of evacuation towards the North. We left thinking that we were going to lose everything we had just moved into our new apartment. It was quite a feeling. Thankfully, our area was spared by the fickle storm who struck slightly to our east, causing all kinds of destruction. I can't tell you how thankful we were but we were also completely aware of the fact that the thinngs we own are just fleeting pleasures. there was something more important. I think I was more thankful for that lesson than anything else. Finally, I am thankful for, of all things, blogs. I know this sounds weird but it has been great catching up with everybody. I feel more connected now than I have in a long time. I have some really incredibly faithful and clever friends. But, on top of that I am also able to write about things that are important to me and in doing that I constantly remind myself of the ways in which I have been blessed. God is good. He has blessed my life with great family, an amazing wife, but more importantly with the promise of his love, provision, and peace. Even in the face of two hurricanes I think the people of the Gulf Coast can be at least somewhat thankful for God's blessings this year. There is a sense of peace here that only comes from above. Thanks for reading. I know it's long but I am a preacher, I'm supposed to be wordy. Soon, I will give more exercise updates. Stay tuned.

Breaking the Equipment

11-18-05

As if the pictures I posted on my last blog were not enough motivation for even the laziest person to get in shape, I must admit that it took more than one motivation for me to make this decision. It, in fact took many many motivations. Some were physical (not being able to breathe after picking up the ice cream cone from the picture in the previous post). Some were spiritual (when God calls our bodies temples, I no longer believe that he is talking about the Temple of Doom). However, one of the most important reasons was geographical. Our apartment complex has a pretty decent gym which we have free access to day and night. It is difficult to use the old "the gym is too far away" excuse when you can throw a rock from your balcony and break the window by the treadmill (although this was the exact excuse I used for the first few months). So, recently I took the dreaded walk over to the clubhouse and found the gym mercifully empty of people. I took a little while to acquaint myself with how each machine worked and mapped out the quickest route to the water fountain from each station. Overall, it was an enjoyable experience. I walked a little, I ran a very little (probably to the water fountain), I lifted a few weights, and I climbed a few stairs all while watching SportsCenter. Oh, what a glorious day. My radiant wife accompanied me on my next gym excursion and it was, again, a pleasant experience. This time we watched Sister Act (nothing is quite as motivating as Whoopi Goldberg in a habit(I have no idea what that last parenthetical statement meant)). Everything was good. It was on our third and fourth trip to the gym that a new wrinkle was introduced into my fledgling excersing life: other people. Nothing can ruin your workout faster than some physically fit specimen running their little heart out on the treadmill next to you. I have to admit that I wasn't so much worried about them seeing me make a fool out of myself with ridiculously small weights or jogging at a creepingly slow pace. If they want to watch me, go ahead. It's there nigthmares, not mine, right? No, what really gets me is that when someone comes into the room you instantly become aware of every noise that you or the machine you are on is making. I know that sounds weird but when the first guy came in I was suddenly cognizant of the fact that the bike I was on was wheezing only slightly louder than I was. It sounded like it was in pain. When the guy jumped on the treadmill to sprint for half an hour, his machine ran silent and smooth. When I get on a treadmill, beer-lovers everywhere come out to their patios to see if the Budweiser Clydesdales are making a promotional run through the complex. And that's just while I'm walking. While that workout was annoying, yesterday's was worse. Several people came and went, including one guy who was 1 1/2 times my size who proceeded to set some kind of land speed record on an eliptical trainer without so much as making a peep. But, he wasn't the worst. Soon a tiny middle-aged woman power-walked into the room straight to the treadmill and began to run at a crazy pace for a long time without breaking a sweat. Here she is sprinting with her mouth closed breathing through her nose like she's on a sedative while I'm on a stationery bike trying not gag on my own tongue pedaling at a pace that wouldn't have gotten me to the corner store by midnight. Needless to say I was perplexed and frustrated.
When I was finished with my ride I decided that I would do some weight training with my legs. I figured that, if anything, that would boost my confidence. Throughout my life, due to some insane genetic blessing I have maintained freakishly large calf muscles (one of my calfs would have fed half the Donner party for several days). So, I figured I should be able to lift a good amount of weight smoothly without much problem. I sat down on the machine and contorted my legs into some bizarre prison torture position and began to lift a fairly good amount of weight. My dreams of smooth lifting were quickly shattered when I realized that my legs were shaking so bad that it was causing the entire machine to rattle like a wooden roller coaster. Luckily at this point everyone had left except for Jacquie. If anyone else had been there they would have run over in order to either treat the machine for seizures or arrest the rogue jackhammer operator hiding in the corner. I guess my legs have gone a little soft, along with my arms, my belly, my chest, my neck, and after yesterday's workout, maybe even my brain. Why am I doing this to myself? Well, there it is. Me in the gym using machines with instructions I can't understand exercising muscles with names I can't pronounce all in the name of....whatever. Author's Note: Most of this blog entry is an exaggeration (although not much of one). The truth is I have found working out ot be exhilirating and occasionally enjoyable. It's just a lot more fun to tell it this way.

How to Choose?

11-15-05



I have to admit that it was an incredibly scary notion for me to start a blog due to my overwhelming inadequacy in all tings computer related. My previous expertise in computers reached only as far as how to insert footnotes in Microsoft Word. Then I start blogging and realize that I am going to have to post pictures and edit HTML and publish things and my head started spinning. A shot of whiskey, two Xanax, and a call to my wife later and I was sufficiently calmed down enough to have Jacquie come up to the office and walk me through the process. I wanted to choose a picture for my profile so that people could see what I look like. Little did I know what a terrible process that would be. We searched through hundreds of pictures of the two of us together and each one was the same, Jacquie looking radiant and me looking like I had just been on a five-month kolache bender. The choice was difficult. So I thought that my second blog should be the finalists for the worst picture for my profile contest. So, here goes. Picture #1 - Obviously I have never taken etiquette or posture classes. Also, listen closely to the picture and you can hear that chair screaming for help.














Picture #2 - The problem I have with this picture is that I look incredibly uncomfortable. Apparently I cannot turn my head, open my eyes, or smile in any way that looks natural. This picture was taken on a trolley in Abilene. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I'm depressed that the only excitement we could find in a hundre-mile radius was riding a trolley down Pine Street.














Picture # 3 - Check out that sweat stain under the arm pit. At one point that stain stretched all the way around the back and connected to the sweat from the other pit. That would look nice on the profile.















Picture #4 - This was actually contender until I realized that I am holding what has to be the biggest ice cream cone this side of wherever it is there might be big ice cream cones. It is as big as my head. Can you imagine looking at that on a profile? "that fellow likes his ice cream"




















Picture #5 - I actually like this one because the perspective is all thrown off and I look tiny. Then I looked at my face and realized that my smile looked a little forced, like I was posing for my junior high girl's volleyball picture.















Picture #6 - This was taken at a fourth of July party in Maryneal Texas where I was preaching for the week, which is appropriate since I seem to have accidentally come dressed as the flag. The pin I am wearing says, if you can believe it, "I (heart) Maryneal" I wore it proudly.




















Picture #7 - The best for last. If I had anything resembling an explanation for this picture believe I would write it here. There is just no excuse.
Well, there you have it. Needless to say I went directly home after looking at these pictures and excerised my little heart out. I guess I should explain to you that I have recently begun an attempt to lose some weight which will probably be the subject of many a blog in the future. Oh and by the way, I chose the picture for my profile because it shows me and Jacquie having a good time and smiling real, not picture posed smiles. Those are the pictures that I love. I hope you have had a little fun looking at these pictures, but don't get used to them, that Spruce won't be around for long.

And Away We Go!

11-11-05
As is the custom of most dorks, I have traditionally been incredibly late in accepting and/or participating in cultural trends or sensations. However, recently, I decided that it would be worth my while to try out many of those cultural phenomena that I had previously refused. So, here I sit wearing a HyperColor T-shirt, Z Cavaricci's, a pair of Aqua-Socks, and Oakley shades, drinking a Starbucks Slim-Fast Smoothie, eating a Gordita while constantly checking my Swatch to make sure that I am not late for my Spinning/Pilates/Macarena class that starts in twenty minutes. (I apologize for the fact that you just spent fifteen seconds reading a sentence that may have possibly made you dumber) So, as a part of my new identity as a band-wagoning sheep I have decided that I will allow myself to be caught up in the blogging craze. (Actually, I just figured that it would be cheaper than therapy sessions) I promise you that the things I write in this blog will be actual thoughts that I think, so that you can gain some confidence that you are not, in fact, the strangest person on Earth. Just think of this as my ministry to all the other dorks in the world. Yes, that includes you. Seriously, I started a blog because I have had a great deal of fun over the past few days catching up with friends from college without having to have a conversation. It is a remarkable thing to be able to tap into the random thoughts of other people in the universe. I thought it might also be fun to add a little to it. I have also found that blogging can allow us to share the more serious sides of our lives as well. I have found great inspiration in reading Matt W.'s, Katie's, and Shanta's blogs over the past few days. It will be great to have this forum to share in all these things with my friends. Now, on with the show. (I'll put pictures and stuff on here later)