Gas prices

Every few years when the gas prices surge, I usually receive at least one bleeding- heart consumer activist e-mail urging a one-day ban or boycott as a form of protest. Universally they blame the greedy executives at oil companies.

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Also, universally these “slactivist” chains are idiotic, narrow-minded, and frankly, immature. I am afraid, that to many people, the idea of a “villain” is comforting. ‘Surely someone is to blame. Surely someone who is powerful and greedy and bad.’ If that idea resonates with you, I have bad news for you. No one person, committee, corporate board, coalition, or even off-shore sovereign is doing this and temporary bans or boycotts to send a message will never work.

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Price is the intersection of supply and demand. Period. In an effort to be helpful, I am providing the following list of things that you can do to that really would help to lower the price of gasoline:

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1. Use less gas

2. Discover an untapped oil field

3. Invent a less expensive way to refine crude oil into gasoline

4. Figure out a way to lower the cost of transporting fuel from refineries to service stations

5. Invent an automobile engine fueled by sea water or human idiocy parading about as consumer activism

Perfect Day Musings

Last week on the way to church Natalie described what would be a perfect day for her. She mentioned shopping in Paris, Rome, and at our mall. She also mentioned friends, meals, and going to a Beiber concert.

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I asked Erika to describe her perfect day. (She was in a foul mood because we had awakened her for 1:00 p.m. church) She said, "My perfect day would be sleeping in as late as I wanted..."

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I said, "That was easy."

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Kara said, "That's it, huh?"

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Erika scoffed at our cutting her off, and our inference that she would snooze the entire day, but didn't say anything else. Today she seems to be having that perfect day. It is Saturday, and at 1:30 p.m. I entered her darkened cave of a room, opened the blinds and the door and offered to make her lunch. She declined, but after I left she did get up to seal herself off from light and sound. At 3:00 p.m. Kara tried unsuccessfully to coax her from bed. I tried again at 4:00 p.m. She did moan, I have nothing to get up for." I told her she needed to get up because in seven hours I was going to send her back to bed.

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It is now 4:30 p.m. and still nothing. I need to get her a hobby or something.

IOU

Natalie came into my study with teeming handfuls of change. She asked if I would give her a five-dollar bill for five dollars of change. I agreed and she dumped the change onto my desk. Then I told her I was unsure if I had a five-dolllar bill in my wallet at the time, but I promised to pay her tomorrow.

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She then said, “Well, if you don't then I want my coins back.”

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Who does she think I am? Does she think that I’ll swindle her? Am I not good for an overnight, five dollar IOU?

Opportunity

A year ago I was introduced to an at-home, volunteer data entry opportunity. This is an online process whereby handwritten information from old records (census, various licenses, etc.) is keyed into data tables. This not only preserves the information, it then becomes searchable and accessible to the public. I liked the concept, and it seemed like a good match for me given my open schedule, notwithstanding my unpredictable energy swoons and vocal/mobility challenges.

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I have primarily worked on US Census sheets from the early twentieth century. When I began, I remember feeling frustration at the handwriting of some of the census takers. Some of the names were illegible and the writing was poor. It was as if they didn’t realize that I might be reading it 100 years later, on electronic media that not only didn’t exist, but they scarcely could have imagined!

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As I did more census sheets, not only did I become more accustomed to the names and the writing, I began to feel an enormous sense of gratitude for the enumerators. This had to be tedious work. They could not have known how their efforts in the “industrial age” would survive into the “information age.”

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I also feel gratitude toward the visionaries, software engineers, photographers and everyone else who have undertaken this mammoth project and have allowed me to help in a tiny way. I have learned over the past few years that my sense of self-worth is highly correlated to my productivity. Doing this work helps to remind me that while I may be disabled, I am not incapacitated.

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Won’t you join in the effort? It is so easy to get started. Just click here and then follow the big blue buttons. You do not need a big chuck of time; sometimes I will only spend 5-minutes at a time. But it saves your work instantaneously and every name helps. Don’t worry that you might get something wrong; there are no grades and everything will be double-checked. Just type what you see and do your best. I can assure you that you will not regret starting this and it will be a great blessing in your life.

Soothing

When Natalie heard that Erika got a shot yesterday, she commented, “When I do that, Mom HAS to go with me.”

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Kara is in Utah this week, so I suppose a little “motherly longing” is in order. But I asked, “Why? Couldn’t you just go with me?”

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She said, “Mom holds my hand and tells me that it’ll be OK. No offense, but her voice is so soothing.”

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Don’t worry, no offense taken hearing that my daughter’s soul is greatly calmed by her mother’s voice.

A Million tears (intro)

(Blogspot won’t let me separate paragraphs and it is frustrating me. I can’t just have a run-on post that is really four paragraphs, so I’ve decided to make four separate posts. )

A Million Tears (part 1)

Kara flew to Utah today to help her frazzled sister. It is an added bonus that she will be able to see our daughter Amanda while she’s there. I know we saw her just a few weeks ago, and we talk to her almost every day, but still we miss her. She’s been living away from home for nearly a year and a half. I can remember so vividly when it was just the three of us. Her middle name is Nicole, and we routinely called her "Cole." When Kara called her last week to announce her travel plans, Amanda began squealing with delight. It warms my heart knowing she is with her mama again.

A Million Tears (part 2)

One effect of my MS that is not readily apparent actually has a clinical name: pseudo bulbar. I know, it sounds fake, but what it means to me is that my emotions seem to be very loosely tethered. I get the giggles so easily, and with very minimal provocation. My kids love to try to get me going just before a family prayer. It is frustrating. Tears also surface too easily. I mean, I’m not a leatherneck or a “tough guy,” but I can’t even watch “American Idol” without having a problem.