Yes, I’m still out of the country. No, I not writing this and beaming it across the interwebs as we speak. It was all written before I left so that my one reader could be throughly entertained. And besides, I thought you might want to know where I’m at and what I’m doing.
The answer: I don’t rightly know. Well, the second part of that I don’t. I know where I am. I mean, I have an idea of what we’ll be doing, but until I actually get down there, I won’t know for sure. This is going to read very awkwardly. Oh well.
Ok, so I’m currently on the Western Pacific coast of Nicaragua working with an organization called World Missions Outreach. Their main purpose is feeding children, some 20,000 a day, in the country. So I presume we’ll be doing that. I’ll be splitting time between the coast and the capital city of Managua.
I’m excited and, by the time your read this, will have been to some amazing places that God has laid out. One of the places, the Managua dump town, is a place I think God has been calling me since I first heard about it back in January. It’s going to be an amazing experience and, well, at this point already has been an awesome experience.
I’ll be back on Sunday and, if you guys are extra nice, I might actually show some pictures and give a run down. One thing is for sure, I will not be jumping off any cliffs this year.
It was a day like any other — the sun was shining and the birds were chirping. But soon a monstrosity was about to be placed on a table in front of myself and four other people. A monstrosity that we would eventually devour in a diabetes-inducing rage. The abomination that which I speak? The Kitchen Sink
This behemoth is made up of eight scoops of ice cream, every topping in the house and “a whole can of whipped cream.” Yes, a whole can. It’s a gluttons dream and a parent’s nightmare but on that day it was our treasure, our triumph, our mountain to conquer. And conquer we did.
You, too, can attempt to tackle this lactose nightmare if you ever visit the Beach Club Resort at Walt Disney World. Find Beaches and Cream and prepare yourself for the fury that will soon be unleashed.
Want to know what bounty lies inside the silver sink’s belly? Watch this video:
I have a clock on my wall. I got it for my birthday last year. It’s a Florida State clock. It’s pretty cool. But there’s something about this clock that’s just not quite right — it’s five hours slow.
Ok, now this is most likely my fault but for the life of me I can’t seem to figure it out. You see, when I first hung the clock in September, the time was correct. Then, at the set date, I took the clock down and adjusted for the end of Daylight Savings Time. I assume I made the correct adjustments and placed the clock back on the wall.
About a month ago I realized that, in fact, the clock is 5 hours slow. I’ve been watching it and it hasn’t changed or gotten any slower which would obviously happen if it was slow enough to loose five hours in a few short months. So that leaves me to blame. But honestly, I don’t think I’m stupid enough to fall back five hours instead of only one. But who knows.
Either way I have a clock on my wall that’s five hours slow and I don’t really want to change it just in case it changes itself. And besides, there’s something to be said for having a clock that is five hours slow. In fact, there’s a lot to be said. Don’t believe me? Well, you just read four paragraphs about a five hour slow clock. So there.
Pretty simple actually, I have a hole in my back. See, hole in my back:
Sweet iPhone picture dude!
It’s not really as gruesome as it looks, I just had a mole removed yesterday. Problem is, the doctor cut deep — how deep? — so deep that I’ve got two layers of stitches. There’s one layer of normal stitches on the skin’s surface, what you see in that sweet picture, and then another layer deeper down that will dissolve out in 60 to 90 days. That’s right, 60 to 90 freaking days.
Now the location of said soon-to-be-scar is such that I can’t lift anything or engage in certain strenuous physical activity for 60 to 90 days for fear the internal stitches will rip. This is one instance where my sedimentary lifestyle will be beneficial, or something like that.
The thing is, it doesn’t hurt at all. In fact, I can’t even feel it — except for the fact it itches like crazy. Twice a day I have to clean it, smear Polysporin all over it, and cover it back up. It’s a 10 minute task, but I guess it’s better than infection.
The moral of this story is this: don’t spend any time in the sun, ever. Especially if you have fair skin.
I had a flat tire today. You might be thinking, big deal. In the grand scheme of things it isn’t a big deal. Though this is, roughly, my sixth flat tire over the course of the last three or four years. Like I said, I think I might be cursed.
This all started back in 2004 with Hurricane Charlie. Prior to returning to Tallahassee I caught a flat tire from some of the debris. No big deal. It happens. However, that set off a chain of events that no man should have to go through.
Over the course of the next 18 months I ended up with another four, I kid you not, flat tires. The worst of which was a hole in the sidewall of a tire that was so bad I had to put on a spare in the middle of nowhere on I-10 and spend the night in the exact halfway point between Tallahassee and Lake City (see nowhere). That wasn’t much fun at all.
I thought the streak ended after I bought a new set of tires two or so years back. Surely when I bought a new car last July my luck had changed. But sadly I was wrong. I caught a nice screw, about an inch and a half long, right in the tread this morning. The good news is that I can change a tire using those crappy jacks in under 20 minutes. The bad news is that now I’m going to be absolutely paranoid as to when the next one’s going to go.
Think you have worse luck when it comes to tires than me? Share your horror story in the comments.
The answer: I don’t rightly know. Well, the second part of that I don’t. I know where I am. I mean, I have an idea of what we’ll be doing, but until I actually get down there, I won’t know for sure. This is going to read very awkwardly. Oh well.
I had a flat tire today. You might be thinking, big deal. In the grand scheme of things it isn’t a big deal. Though this is, roughly, my sixth flat tire over the course of the last three or four years. Like I said, I think I might be cursed.