I've been hit ...

Or should I say tagged ... thanks KTB ... you're gracious to think of me. Or everyone else has been tagged. Or your mama told you to. Whatever it was ... I'm game.

And the game is 10 random thoughts. Well, I've got about ten minutes before I have to start getting ready for a meeting tomorrow, so let me see what I can come up with. I guess this will be paced at 1 RPM (1 randomness per minute). Buckle up ... here goes.

1. I have two toes stuck together. It's like having a webbed foot, but only between two toes, not the whole foot. The technical term for fellow geeksters is "simple syndactyly." Wasn't that a Robert Palmer song? Anyhoo ... I used to pretend I was the "Man from Atlantis" with my webbed foot. Granted I don't look anything like Patrick Duffy. But I tried to swim like he did, like a flailing, dying worm with my hands by my side and my feet together. Did you know that you really can't get far underwater flailing like a dying worm with your hands by your side and your feet together? I know ... now. And so do you.
   
   
2. My great-grandfather, grandfather, dad, brother and nephew are all named George Bush. But our family is big into nicknames. My grandfather was "G.I.", my dad is Irvin, my brother is Skeeter, and my nephew is Bucky. Wackiness.
   
   
3. When I was born, the doctor told my mother, "Well Helen, you have a healthy bouncing baby boy." Her reply was, "Well, if that's the best you could do." I'm still not sure what to think of that, but I bet she was drugged.
   
   
4. I had three dates in college. They were with three different girls, and all within two months. I was having too much fun as a Redcoat (marching band) to date.
   
   
5. I like order ... lots of order. I prefer to have things in Tupperware containers vs. packages and bags of various sizes. If I am at your house and a picture is crooked on the wall, I can't concentrate until it's straightened. Notice the numerical order of the next one. More indications of the order disorder.
   
   
6. My six radio station presets, if you exclude the numbers, are Star River B Q Fish Jazz. In that order.
   
   
7. I love acting ... I won some awards in high school for the one-act play, and went on to act in the dinner theater at FUMC, which was awesome.
   
   
8. I hesitate to even mention this, but I LOATHE the "p" word used commonly to describe female underwear. It is the most wishy-washy, lame, gross word that I know of in the English language. Whenever someone says it, it's like someone whining. I know that God made everything, but the bad guy must have come up with this word. I think Eve originally called them "leaves" ... why didn't we just leave well enough alone and call them that? Works for me ... a bra and leaves set. No whining there.
   
   
9. I played french horn, trumpet and baritone/euphonium in high school, college, and into post-college. I also love to sing. I used to sing with a group at FUMC, and one year we were invited to sing at the lighting of the Rich's Great Tree at Underground Atlanta. THAT was way cool.
   
   
10. Let's wrap up (as we opened) with some more physical oddities. I'm color blind ... like for real. Not someone who has problems matching clothes, but really, genetically color blind. When I look at those circles of colored dots in the Ishihara color blindness tests, I cannot see the numbers in many of them. Oh, and I'm AB+, which is one of the rarest blood types and the universal recipient ... I can take blood from anyone. Well, I'd like to have their resume and accomplishments first, but in a pinch, I won't be picky. I'm married to an O-, the universal donor. I love that woman. And not just for her blood.
    

How random was that? Now I have to tag out ... let's hear from mother/daughter duo Kaye and Ann, and let's see if Ruth Allen will play the game! If not, we're going to call her a butthole (by her graces, not mine.) If I used language like that, I'd probably choose "butthead" vs. "butthole." Maintains complete distance from the leaves. Just FYI.

Toy Time

OK ... here's one everyone can relate to.

What was your favorite toy when you were a kid?

Now beyond my culinary fascination with Play-Doh (revealed in my last blog), I think my favorite was Tinkertoys. One big can of wooden Tinkertoys with plastic connectors and levers, etc. I made ferris wheels and cars and helicopters. When the pegs swelled up too much on the ends, I had to clamp the ends a little with my teeth. Much like Play-Doh. Little did I realize that getting them wet made them swell more. Ah, well.

My second favorite was a chemistry set and microscope. I was a dork. But those slides of mounted flies and blood stains ... all cool stuff.

Third up was a tie between a bike and an electric organ, which was basically a big fan that blew in the housing and allowed air to escape through the keys when they were pressed. I never learned how to play piano, but I belted out stuff on that organ. What a noise it would make when I leaned on the keys and tried to press them all down at once. Like a dying cow. Not that I've ever heard a dying cow. But I've heard one in labor, and my electric organ didn't sound anything like that.

So what was your childhood favorite? If you are going to comment that your favorite childhood toy was a Wii ... don't. I'm grumpy and I'll have to slap an age limitation on this blog.

OH, and BTW ... please pray for our family. I leave for San Antonio tomorrow, and Veda is going to fly out and join me Thursday evening. Leah, Amy and Chaz will be here with my in-laws, and Chaz is coughing up a storm. We think it's allergies. But nonetheless, it's tough for Mommy to leave for some R&R if her baby is sick.

And a haiku for you ...

Tinkertoys ... they rocked

And the can made a great drum!

Better than a cat.

Is that King Tut's Tomb in there?

Ain't it tough when you uncover the unfortunate choices of others that you now have to deal with?

I spent WAY too much time this afternoon in our shower. And I only wish it had been under some hot water. But no ... I was going to recaulk our shower. A quick job, it was to be. You know ... you get to a point to where you've used enough bleach to where the caulk is ready to throw in the towel. If it separates from the tile, removing it should be as easy as wheeling Britney out on a stretcher. Again.

So I get in there to start easily peeling away each precious bead of caulk, having done it's job and prepared for the caulk afterlife. Little did I know ... this caulk was heading for the underworld. At least, I was cursing it there.

Let's put it this way ... I broke one blade in the process, and at the end of two hours, I had stripped but not caulked a single bead.

For those of you who may be new homeowners, here's a little tip. TAKE OFF THE OLD CAULK BEFORE PUTTING ON NEW CAULK! A wise piece of information that the previous owners must not have read in Better Homes and Gardens. (Or perhaps they didn't discuss caulk removal in his magazine of choice. Not even a photo of caulk removal. Nada.)

It was so bad ... one corner had THREE layers of caulk. How did I know this? It was like going through an archaeological dig. I could tell by the strata and colors that this was no ordinary corner. And to top it all off, once I finally removed said caulks (yeah, plural), there was no grout in the corner at all ... it was a gaping hold between tiles. I had uncovered a secret passage. Was there money hidden in that crevice? No ... just wet caulk.

This was not the simple project I had planned to take on. Arrgh.

Fortunately, I had some tile grout. Now granted, it was about six years old, but after walking around with the tube in my hand, kneading it and rolling it like Play-Doh, I was ready to grout the gap.

So now our shower is posted as "out of order" for the next two days instead of one. But fear not, we will not grow ripe. We have other bathing options.

Homeowners ... please be informed. DECAULK before you caulk.

Sheesh.

Speaking of ... Play-Doh was the only time I can remember getting sent home from school. Or at least getting in big time trouble. In kindergarten, I tried to get someone to eat Play-Doh with me. I never could figure out why red Play-Doh tasted salty and not cherry flavored. But then again, so did the yellow and the green. Weird. Did you know that Play-Doh was originally invented as wallpaper cleaner? Now see, if I had known that, I certainly wouldn't have ingested it. Duh.

He's not Mafia ... I Promise

It appears that many of my blog posts will be regarding something overheard at dinner. Perhaps that's when the funniest things are said.

So, without further ado ... here's the star of this evening's show!

Chaz: "I want to say the blessing tonight!"
Chip: "OK ... you go for it."
C2: "OK ... let's pray."
(All heads bowed).
C2: "God is gweat ... God is good ... let us ... NO, WAIT!"
(C1 and family snickers)
(C2 goes Brando ... to the tune of "Where is Thumpkin?")
C2: "God ah faddah ... God ah faddah ... (pause) ... Ah-ah-men ... Ah-ah-men!"

And with that, our food was blessed, along with our hearts and our comedic senses. Good show, son!

Word Veri

One of the bestest bloggers out here is Caroline B. No, really ... you should read her stuff ... she's good. If you don't, you're not good.

She posted a comment on one of my posts recently that puzzled me ... I had no clue what she meant. Was it a typo? Was she medicated? I couldn't figure it out. In closing out her comment, she said, "Moilwax ... best word veri ever."

And for days, I fretted and fumbled around that comment. Was it a puzzle? Perhaps it was code ... something I had to figure out. She'd do something like that to me. More likely at 3 a.m. at summer camp, but I wouldn't put it past her on any other day.

But today, the clouds parted. I finally got it, while posting a comment on Annie's ultimate blog (another one you SHANT miss if you know what's good for you. And even if you don't ... I know what's good for you, and it's Annie's musings. Do it.)

Anyhoo ... as I was posting an eloquent comment to one of Annie's most recent perceptions into the human soul, I was reminded to type in a word verification for my comment so they'd know I was human ... as opposed flora or fauna, who have yet to master the keyboard. Word Verification ... hence Word Veri (sans the fication).

And ahhh ... I was released from my shackles. Course, at that point in time, now I had the best word veri ever. Me, me, me. And I'll share it with you.

Amfmkuny

Don't try to phonetically pronounce it. You have to spell out the A-M-F-M part first. Then say "kuny." I think it refers to the wickedly terrible state of Atlanta radio right now, with stations flopping around left and right.

Who comes up with these word veris? Flora or fauna?

Amfmkuny ... someone get Webster on the phone and let's get this one in print. 'Cause I like it. Just like snumping and snopping.

If you don't know ... don't be afraid to ask.

Tribute to My Wife

I don't see how she does it.

Here I am, working from home today. Veda is on a field trip with Leah, and I am so thankful to have a job where I can request a "working from home" day every now and then.

But how does she do this, day after day? Is this a superstrength item that only the female gender possesses? I am stunned. EVERY husband should have to do this one in a blue moon.

I am taking this five-minute break from everything to pay special tribute to her, for the fact that she manages this home daily without rarely a peep. She does it because she is dedicated to this family.

In addition to working from home, and there's plenty to do, both Chaz and Amy are here today. That was in the plan, and I was prepared for it. But then it hit me this morning ... we have an architect coming by at 3 p.m. to discuss some long-range items for our home. Outsider? Coming in to our abode? Dear GOD ... I've got to straighten up or he won't take our project!

So between feeding children and answering their 1,238,456th question regarding whether or not they can brush their teeth now (why don't they ask to do this at night?), attempting to keep them from pulling out while I am putting away, juggling a spreadsheet full of data for reporting, unloading the dishwasher so the sink can be emptied and cleaned, sweeping the breakfast area, cleaning the table ... and that's all just before lunch! And I haven't even made it to the living room yet! Sweet Jesus, save me!

Lord ... bless Veda, and all the wives/mothers out there who do this day after day. You have truly blessed Man to have given him Woman.

Now ... where did I last see the vacuum?

Haiku Shot

Tissues fill the trash

Homage to the battles fought

with my snotty nose.

Is this a PG-rated blog?

I texted my brother and his kids last night while I was sitting in front of Outback Steakhouse. I was waiting for my beautiful bride to arrive, so we could pull up a wonderful table (for two ... woo-hoo!) and we would chow down on some quasi-authentic Australian cuisine.

I was messaging my family to clue them in on this blog. (Which by the way has moved to a new URL of http://chipsup.blogspot.com/ ... reflects my generally upbeat disposition and the fact that I'm usually up way too late in the evenings/mornings on my computer.)

I love texting them when I think about it ... just a quick note ... a connection point in our harried lives. Yes, I could call them, but a text message is a broadcast ... I can get out a message to many with a single blow. Efficiency or laziness? I like to consider it efficient. Not to mention ... it's something they can read on their time, and respond when they can. I like that ... non-intrusive. Like blogs and email.

Anyhoo ... it hit me that I hadn't emailed my parents to let them know I was now blogging socially (versus blogging with a cause, like we did when Dad had his fall.) Do I dare fill them in? Would letting them read my blog reveal any new discoveries about their son ... shattering any pre-conceived notions about their "baby?"

(Sidenote: There's a running tradition that I'm the "baby who ..." and you just fill in the blank with whatever is going on in my life at the time ... so I'm the "baby who went off to college" ... the "baby who went to work for Coca-Cola" ... the "baby who got married" and so on and so on.) It's just a subtle reminder that I'm the baby of the family. As if I'd forget that notion.

So with that, I scanned my previous posts. But why? Would I actually be writing ... committing to Internet perpetuity ... anything that I would be ashamed of? I don't think so. I think I've said the word "fart" in front of them before, and I didn't end up eating the Ivory.

And then it hit me ... would I write anything that God would be ashamed of? Well I certainly hope not! I mean ... come on ... if anybody knows exactly what's on the Internet ... HE does. And I'll bet that His stance on it is the same as it is with everything in the world. Some of it pleases Him, and some of it doesn't. I hope that He at least grins every once and a while with mine.

So with that, I am extending an invitation to Mom and Dad later today to join in the studio audience. I hope that what they read makes them smile, as is the case with all of you. I hope they get a sense of the wonderful support group of friends and family that I have when reading your comments (keep them clean now).

I can attribute 99.8% of who I am to their influence. I find myself a perfect combination of the two. I love to tell stories like my Dad. I worry like my Mom. I love to sing like my Dad. I have a heart for others like my Mom. But above all, they taught me the importance of living a life with God in the midst of it all. And I truly thank them and love them for that.

Now the question is ... do I tell Veda what my blog URL is? =8^]

At the Dinner Table

Chip: "Chaz ... what is your full name?"
Chaz: "Chazzy Bush."
C1: "No, no. What is your REAL name?"
C2: "C ... H ... A ... Z!"
C1: "Well, that's great spelling, but what is your full long name?"
C2: "Allen ... Bush ... Junior!"
C1: "Closer ... what is your real first name? It also starts with the 'ch' sound. Ch ... Ch ... Ch ..."
C2: "CHUG!"
C1: "Oy vey."

Oops, Forgot the Haiku

Hmm ... let me think.

Sinuses draining

I don't have time to be sick.

Cough, cough, sniff. Cough ... ack.

I Can't Be Old

I went to college today.

Yes, I left the house at dark:30 this morning to get to Athens before all of Atlanta poured out into the federal interstate system.

Every time I go to UGA, I hope I don't stick out. Aren't there grey pot-bellied students?

Anyhoo ... today I was in a suit, carrying one bag and sporting my red and black backpack off the right shoulder ... just the way we all wore our backpacks in school. The only thing missing was my cassette player in the back pocket with earphones, cranking out "Oh Yeah" by Yello from Ferris Buehler. But that's OK ... I was looking good as I left the parking garage and headed by the Baptist Student Union toward the Journalism building.

Not thirty seconds out of the garage, and I had to laugh. "What a moron," I said to myself regarding a passing student. "Total nerd ... wearing both backpack straps on his shoulders. Lame-o." And I grinned to myself as I continued on my journey.

Wait ... another goober fully engaged in backpack straps passed by. Then some folks came out of Fine Arts. Why is everybody wearing both straps??? Don't you know how odd and out of place you look? Look at me, people! This is how you WEAR it ... draped off the right shoulder, giving yourself a bit of a swagger. Can you see it? Like this ... let it bounce off your right hip. See?

Hmm ... well, it appears once again that I was the moron on campus. The old fart, I suppose. Everyone knows you can seriously screw up your back wearing a backpack off to one side. Lord, forgive me for those mental lashings of idiotness. These are just healthy students trying to get through a semester.

But come on ... are those really the kind of pants that guys wear these days? Sheesh. And you ... yes, you ... the guy in the American Eagle shirt. You're tossing locks of hair on the front of your face more than Emeril with a wok of crawfish. I mean it ... stop. You look like you have a nervous habit, DUDE. If you can't speak through the hair, let me introduce you to Sir Scissors.

I went to my speaking engagement ... totally feeling like the grown up. Ugh. But then, I had lunch with my parents at the Mayflower Restaurant, which was established in Athens when Caesar was in Rome. One of these meat and two veggies places. I felt young in that crowd. I saw Michael Adams while I was there. The waitress called me, "Honey." NO tip in the world is enough for that type of service ... along with sweet tea (real sugar) and lemon.

OK ... so I'm older. Fine. But I dress better, and you can see my eyes without a fling of the neck. Fat, dumb and snappy, I am.

Not to Be Outdone

Well, as I find blogs from friends and family, I realize how much I've been missing! It's like talking, but nobody interrupts me. How cool is that?

Now I will admit to being a bit of an anomaly. A white male who enjoys communicating. In the proper circles, of course. Someone asked me if I enjoyed the Super Bowl. Admittedly, it was never on the TV at our house. (Now college would be a different story, but NFL just doesn't do anything for me.)

So I write. And I'm not hung up on sports 24-7. But I do carry a man card. I appreciate justice, but don't necessarily like to fight. More like a Jean Luc Picard without the starship and the torpedoes. Don't get me started ... I can guarantee you'll hear more about Star Trek. Who does that jazz up for future reading? Here's a shout-out to all my Trekker peeps! Be Heard!

Anyhoo ... I'd rather negotiate between conflict than be one of the sides. Annie, I guess that rules me out as Peter Pan. While he was good and all that, he didn't flinch at a battle. Besides, I don't look as snappy in green tights. Trust me. But the hat is dapper.

I digress. A writer. Low sports. A lover, not a fighter? And I get really gigged over finding a good deal. ESPECIALLY travel. Always did, even as a kid. I was the one to research hotels (the pool had to kick) and make reservations for our vacations. "Travel agent" was one of many jobs that I planned. Along with architect, civil engineer, pharmacist, weather personality, and (pity the thought) a yearbook representative. You know, like for Jostens.

Wait ... did someone just whisper "lame" under their breath? Mmm-hmm. Don't think I don't hear you.

I even love to just walk in the mall. No real goal, just ambling. Odd, yes. Relaxing, yes. And I love walking hand-in-hand with Veda. But she's a goal shopper. Get in ... get what you need ... get out. We truly are sometimes the perfect storm of a role reversal. God is good ... He knew what He was doing when He put us together. But doesn't He always know?

For those of you who have no clue ... here's the family unit on the left. Well, at least the fam as I knew it back in 1976. Looks like we all had the same hair stylist. And yes, I was a blonde. What of it?

I'm surprised our collars did not just open up and swallow our heads whole. Or start flapping and take flight. If my collar didn't, my ears were prepared as backup in case I needed to be airborne.

I took pride in pulling teeth. In fact, I determined it was quite the business, and I think I pulled three over the course of two weeks.

Here's the current Bush family, where I'm the head. Veda's the neck. Yes, yes, yes ... turns the head. Leah is the heart (shares space with God.) Amy is the memory ... like an elephant. And Chaz is both arms and legs ... flailing them about whenever he can. Boy, will he be a future blog topic. And, of course, a haiku for you!

A man's family
Reflects his innermost traits
I'm a complex guy.

The Start of Something Beautiful

Testing, testing. 1 - 2 - 3

Mrs. Teevee: I assume there's an accident indemnity clause.
Willy Wonka: Never between friends.

Hmmm ... after a failed attempt to get someone to laugh out loud on MySpace (perhaps nobody was reading?) ... we'll try something new. Something fresh for 2008. Something that has been done for years now. OK, OK, remember that I turned 40 this year, so I'm catching up.

Actually, I'm not new to the blogging scene ... to the contrary. When my Dad had his traumatic brain injury in August, 2007, it was a blog that came to the rescue of our family. It kept us from fielding phone call after phone call. It gave us a place to share what was going on, and to let everyone have a peek into our family and how we pushed through (with God's grace) a very trying time. It's still there ... a legacy to God and His miracle. http://gibush.blogspot.com.

And BTW ... Dad was released to drive in December of 2007. God is good!

But this isn't going to be about the past. I've trashed my MySpace account ... snumped it, I did. While I thoroughly enjoy Facebook now, I also find the musings of some of my favorite people in the blogosphere quite entertaining. And I love to write ... even at 12:44 a.m.

So we'll give it a go. Successful blogging requires dedication and skill. It requires cunning and wit. I only hope that I can provide as much laughter as others can. Life can be a laugh fest.

But then again, perhaps only Caroline can say "gassy" and really make one laugh. But it works for me, every time.

My eyelids they droop
Midnight, thou hast past me by
Blogger slumber time.