I'm outtie

Sarah and I are driving up to Costa Mesa (in the O.C.) for our church's couples retreat. I won't be back until Sunday night. It just so happens that we don't have a camp in this weekend so we get to go. Hooray! Plus we called kind of last minute to say we wanted to go and the guy who was organizing it said that a couple had just cancelled, but their room was already payed for and everything. So we get to go for free. Hip-hip-hooray!

Of course, I probably shouldn't have told all of you that I'll be gone till Sunday night because now somebody will probably break into my blog and steal my ideas. I hope my corner of the blogosphere has a neighborhood watch program.

TO MY NEPHEW OBADIAH

I sent baby Obadiah a very special bath toy for the occasion of his birth. Of course it is several months from when he can actually use it, and it is several years from when he can understand the story below, which explains it. (Sorry this is another longish post.)

Dear Nephew,


If you cross the lake to the New York side, and follow the shoreline north, you will come to a place where the lake is separated from an extensive swamp by a gravel berm. The berm supports a set of train tracks that run across the mouth of the swamp. The Widjiwats call this place “Krennel Marl”, which means “Skeleton swamp.” It is so named because the dead and dying trees which rise out of the swamp’s shallow water resemble disembodied skeletons wading through the reeds, cattails and water lilies. The swamp is bordered on the north by a large apple orchard whose neat and orderly rows stand in stark contrast to the wild and chaotic looking swamp. A channel of open water winds its way in serpentine fashion through the middle of the swamp, and connects a brook, which issues into the western end of the swamp, with the open lake. On the south and west, the swamp is bordered by dense hardwood forest and rocky ledges, and to the east, of course, it is bordered by the aforementioned berm and the lake. A large metal culvert runs under the berm and allows water to flow back and forth between the swamp and the lake. For years Widjiwat vessels have used this culvert to find safe anchorage in the sheltered waters of the swamp.

Every time I think of the swamp I am reminded of an old Widjiwat frog hunter named “Erp” who used to live there. I don’t think “Erp” was his proper given name, but probably a nickname of some sort. If I had to guess I would say it probably came from a stanza in a popular Widjiwat children’s song which goes:

“If you surprise a frog
It goes “erp”, hop, kersplunk!
Into puddle, pond or bog
It goes “erp”, hop, kersplunk!”

Erp made a living for himself by trading fresh frog meat for supplies and such with the ships that anchored in the swamp. Frogs, of course, are very abundant there, and even now, if you visit the swamp on a summer evening, the din of their croaking is so loud you can barely hear yourself think. It was a very pleasant sound to old Erp though. He lived for the frog hunt, and he probably knew more about frogs and their ways than a room full of herpetologists. Most people found him dull because he was almost incapable of talking about anything else, but I thought he was kind of interesting.

He was not only considered one of the best frog hunters of his time, but he was also generally regarded as one of the handiest men around in a dugout canoe. A dugout canoe is a necessary piece of equipment for a serious frog hunter, or for anybody living in a swamp as Erp did. He plied a canoe like it was an extension of himself. He was famous for crossing the broad lake in his dugout regardless of the weather, which was considered a suicidal act even when things were calm. Dugout canoes are prone to tipping and it takes a steady and experienced hand to keep dry even in the sheltered waters of the swamp, but so far as I know, Erp never tipped a canoe.

Erp’s appearance sort of reminded me of a moose or a stork in that he had a massive upper body and skinny, rather underdeveloped, legs. I believe this was due to a life spent traveling by canoe. His broad chest and muscular arms were constantly at work maneuvering his dugout through the swamp, while his legs lay at rest. I suspect that he probably traveled more by canoe in his life than on his feet. I guess that isn’t so unusual considering how much we travel by car, but there was something impressive about Erp’s mastery of the dugout and his intimate knowledge of the swamp. No one knew the swamp better than Erp.

He could also be graceful on his feet though. You have to be to sneak up on frogs. And he could move as silently as a cloud over the face of the moon. He was an old man, but he was steady and strong. His face was swarthy and deeply wrinkled with icy blue eyes and a sharp beak of a nose. He never said much, but somehow, he was very good company. Above all, I remember him as a humble man who sincerely enjoyed life and who loved the Lord. I don’t think I have ever met anyone who was as comfortable in his own skin as Erp.

The last time I saw Erp he was paddling out onto the broad lake towards Munger brook. Earlier that day, he had hauled his dugout canoe up onto the shore beneath the house, and announced that he had brought me some extra fine Indian beads that he had found. I had told him two weeks earlier that I would give him whatever he wanted in trade for some truly fine Indian beads, because I wanted to make them into a necklace for Bowden. He carefully unloaded 4 beautiful beads, which were wrapped in a mouse hide. All Erp wanted in trade was some salt, which I gladly gave him.

Before long our conversation turned, as usual, to frog hunting. He asked me if I had ever eaten a frog, and I had to admit that I hadn’t. He offered to cook me one sometime, and I said that would be nice.

I asked erp if he would spend the night at my house before heading back to the swamp, but he declined. He said he had some relatives he wanted to visit who were passing the summer up on the Munger, and he said he would spend the night with them. I thanked him again for the beads, and we said our goodbyes. Just as Erp was shoving off I commented that his dugout canoe would make a perfect bath toy for a little boy. He thought that was awfully funny and he was laughing as he paddled away.

I learned about a year ago that Old Erp had died in his sleep at Overfick. Don’t be sad, he loved Jesus, and although he enjoyed the time that God gave him here, he knew that his true home would be with Jesus in the new Jerusalem. He left instructions that his dugout canoe be given to me with the idea that I would give it to a little boy as a bath toy. So I entrust Erp’s dugout to you. It’s not the most handsome boat. Nor is it the finest crafted vessel to ever turn a wake, but it served Erp well, and I hope you enjoy it at bath time.

P.S. Jarudet helped me clean out all of the crusty frog guts and accumulated stains. We also sanded out some of the rough spots and fixed it up a little. Don’t just put it on a shelf or stick it away somewhere. Erp would have wanted it to be a useful thing. Welcome to the world- I love you!
(This is a picture of Erp's swamp from atop the berm)

DO YOU REMEMBER THAT COMMERCIAL FROM THE EARLY 90'S

"My name is Geek
I put 'em on as a shocker!
Man, I love these blue-blockers!
Everything is cool!
Why they block out the sun-
Oh yeah! I gotta get me some!"

Oh, those are some good memories. Thanks for the tip "Geek."

WISHING YOU A HAPPY ST. RUGGLIN'S DAY!

(...but not too happy! Don't get carried away!)

I started my St Rugglin's day off right! Woke up on the floor, cold shower, and now I'm wearing sweat pants and a ripped T-shirt ( a few strange looks as I came into the office this morning). I plan on eating nothing but puffed wheat (sans milk, honey, or anything delicious... I may add sand though.) I am still trying to come up with what I will do for my parade. Of course, in a few short hours I will continue my own personal St Rugglin's day tradition, which is have my hair cut and then I don't change my shirt or take a shower for the rest of the day (It's like wearing burlap). Job, why do we do this anyway. I find myself wavering a little this morning. Bowden is also celebrating this year apparently. As I left the house he was throwing a marathon fit for absolutely no reason. It appears that he follows your own brand of the holidy, Uncle Job.

WRITE TODAY FOR YOUR FREE A.P.D. MEMBERSHIP CARD AND MANIFESTO

It was almost ten years ago when I founded the A.P.D. (Advocates of Planned Dwarfism) to propose a novel solution to the Earth's impending overpopulation crisis. If you would like a copy of my organization's manifesto, entitled "Earth's Short Future" (I'm sure the pun isn't lost on you.), just e-mail me your mailing address and I will expedite you a copy and membership card. Together we can make a difference.

Thank you for taking the time to read this important message.


Josh Tate
(A.P.D. Founder & Visionary)

SPOON AND BUMPS

Lucy, Lucy,
Lucy-Goose
Your diaper’s filled
With Lucy Juice

Bowden, Bowden,
Bowden-Bose
I see boogers
In your nose.

***

Bowden-bose
Wipes his nose
In doing so
He dirties his Clothes
Bowden-bose
Better knows
Than to wipe his nose
Upon his clothes
But he does so anyway

FOR MY DECEASED CAT MOLLY

Crouching low
In the glow
Of the pale moonlight-
A prowling cat,
Sleek and fat,
Is stalking through the night.
Half-concealed
By edge of field,
In and out of light,
Soft and silent,
Swift and violent
Stalking through the night.

* * *

"A cat on the prowl
Is prey to the owl"

(or coyote in Molly's case)

* * *

QUESTION OF THE DAY

if you could learn one new skill just by snapping your fingers which skill would you choose? Would you learn a foregin language, a musical instrument, become an expert painter, juggle, yo-yo, rubix cube, or something else? What?

Hmmm... I'm not sure about that.

I'm pretty sure that if James 1:2-3 had been written in the days of the blogosphere it would read as follows:

"My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience, and it will prove good material for your blog."

How cool would it be if after each portion of scripture in our Bibles there was a comment button. Paul would be all like "Sweet book James! Truly this was divinely inspired! Continue to dominate!" (Were they even contemporaries? I don't know, and I don't have time to research it.)

WIDJIWAT COUNTRY

AND THE WINNER IS....

The real Job 12:19 was "He leads priests away stripped and opverthrows men long established."

Sarah wins this round by being the only participant to guess the correct verse, and also because Steve guessed her fake verse.

Verse A belonged to Sarah
Verse B was the real Job 12:19 (obviously!)
Verse C belonged to Job
Verse D belonged to Chloe
&
Verse E belonged to Steve

CONGRATULATIONS SARAH!!!!!!!

Who will host the next round?

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

Just moments ago I received a phone call from my Mother who informed me that Obadiah Tom Tate had just been born, and both Mother and baby are in perfect health. This my first nephew, and if he turns out to be even half as fun as my nieces he will be a considerable source of joy for his extended family. Congratulations to Joel, Christine and the girls for the addition to your family.

Three cheers for baby Obadiah!

Hip-hip-hooray!
Hip-hip-hooray!
Hip-hip-hooray!

Now I must start scheming on how I will get back to the 802 to see the wee little man-child.

"My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unfomred body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." Psalm 139: 15 & 16

Please note that I broke the story before "Rocket Surgery."

Would the real Job 12:19 please stand up.

I think this game would be more fun to play on a blog with a larger following (maybe Job's or Steve's), but I was pleased with the quality of the responses if not the quantity. Maybe somebody else should host the next round. Below you will find posted 5 verses- only one of which is the genuine Job 12:19. Your mission is to pick which one is genuine (without peeking), and post your choice in the comment field. The winner is the player with the most points (remember you get a point for guessing the correct verse, and for every time somebody else guesses yours.

So here they are:

A. Job 12:19 "Why should I seek the shade only to have my covering ripped away. The sun will seek me out and I can not hide from it."

B. Job 12:19 "He leads priests away stripped and overthrows men long established."

C. Job 12:19 "And as such, as a lion's roar comes from its belly,the wrath of God comes from the heavens itself."

D. Job 12:19 "He takes gold from kings and offers beggars this present. He makes his enemies become his friends."

E. Job 12:19 "Let him tear his clothes and cover himself with ashes in that day."

Good Luck!

QUESTION OF THE DAY

If you were approached by the angel of death who informed you that you were scheduled to live until the ripe old age of 90, but that you would suffer from a cold for all the remaining days of your life, and then offered to remove the cold if you agreed to knock ten years off the end of your life- would you take it? Just a regular runny nose, congested, scratchy throat kind of cold, but all day, every day, for the rest of your life.

P.S. I will be posting the different Job 12:19's later in the day. I have a lot of work to do around the camp today. Adam and Eve didn't do us any favors.

Sarah-

"Amiyo! Ton coeur est ma maison. Mon amour est ton toit. J'ai besoin de toi!"
Bisso Na Bisso

A WALK INTO TOWN

This afternoon Sarah and I took Bowden and Lucy for a walk into town. This time of year the weather is just perfect here in Idyllwild. It felt good to get away from the camp and stretch our legs a little. It's spring here and the air is flavored with pine. In town, we walked in and out of the shops like tourists. The shops up here mostly carry wares that are priced way beyond our meager budget, but we enjoyed looking at all the things the clever artists and craftsmen had manufactured for persons richer than we. It's like a poor man's museum. Most of the shops sell art to weekend tourists up from the desert and other places. Pottery, paintings, handbound books, woodworking, handblown glass, sculptures, etc... Sarah and I get endless enjoyment from discussing which ones we like and which ones we don't. We also like to talk about where we would put the various pieces of art in our house if we had the means to buy them (Frankly, even if the Lord saw fit to trust me with millions I couldn't justify spending a penny of it on such ostentatious stuff, but it is fun to look at and critique it like we are a pair of sophisticates). I think we enjoy disagreeing more than agreeing because it leads to more spirited conversation. "What! You really like that?" Of course, Bowden is a concern in establishments such as these. He's a rather grabby little boy, and many of these fragile and expensive items are on display at his eye level. So Sarah and I watch him like a hawk. One lapse on our part could leave us the owners of a damaged work of art, and put us thousands of dollars in debt. "You break it you buy it!"

We stopped into one store which deals in minerals, stones, fossils and such and marveled at an IMMENSE skeleton of a prehistoric cave bear, which was on display there. The owner had recently traveled to Russia to acquire the skeleton, which was authentic. The size of the thing! It towered over us, and it's immense head with gaping jaws nearly touched the ceiling. Of course, it cost more than I make in a year, which is to say it was very reasonably priced. The owner had to take a special class in order to acquire it. It is impossible to ship an intact skeleton so he had to learn how to reassemble it correctly. Once it arrived in Idyllwild he was able to reassemble it. It made my hair stand up when I touched the tip of it's claw, and thought about how in another place, years and years ago, it would have meant certain death to be anywhere near those claws. It was very impressive, and I'm sure it will make a very interesting conversation piece in someone's home. I'm just glad they're extinct.

After leaving the Cave Bear, we went to a coffee shop and ordered two steamed milks. While they were preparing our steamed milks Sarah and I both realized that we had no means of paying for the drinks as she had left her purse at home and I had left my wallet there as well. So I ran home (literally) grabbed the purse and wallet, and then began a frantic, yet unproductive, search for our car keys. Finally I gave up, changed into my running shoes, and hoofed it back to the coffee shop. Somehow a hot steamed milk is less appealing after runnning about a mile and a half. I may be fat, but this chubby little boy can move!

After leaving the coffee shop we started walking towards the Post office to check our mail. This route took us past the Idyllwild Inn, which our friends Josh and Emily White own. We stopped in and talked with them for a while before moseying on. At the post office we found that I had recieved a letter from my Dad, which reads as follows:

Josh-

Here's one entry in the 'rhyme with licorice' challenge. While "fish" and "licorice" may not technically rhyme, they nearly rhyme enough to mostly trick the ear.

Happy As a Kid in the Candy Shop

"Black Jack gum, a tootsie pop,"
I told the man in the candy shop,
"Atomic Balls, a charelston chew,
And chocolate-covered raisins too;
A quarter lb. of swedish fish,
of cinnamon hearts and licorice.
I've lots of coins 'cause just today
I turned thirteen and got an 'A';
I mowed a lawn and lost a tooth-
Oh yes!, and please a Baby Ruth,"

I love it! That's definately going in my book! I can't explain why, I just really love children's verse. I like reading it, writing it, and sharing it with my kids. It's just so much fun. Thanks Dad! The picture above is of me reading Dad's poem to Bowden on the bench outside the post office.

QUESTION OF THE DAY

If you could change one sensation that feels bad and make it feel good which would you choose? I think I would pick feeling nauseous. Then flue season would be a delight.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BROTHER JOHN!

Here we are- the Tate men (sans my Dad, and little Obadiah, who, so far as I know, is still in Utero). From the left is Joel (Chittenden, VT), John (Augusta, GA), Bowden, Job (Wherever his jeep is parked or where the police have moved him along to), and myself (Idyllwild, CA). John, I hope you had a wonderful birthday!

I PROPOSE A GAME OF HERESY....

This game was created by my family and Steve Maxon over the course of a family vacation a year ago. It's like balderdash for the young evangelical. I will close my eyes, open my Bible, and, with my eyes still closed, plunk my finger down on the page. Then I will open my eyes, note the reference, and post said verse on my blog. You then have until midnight on Monday- the 23rd to e-mail me a fake verse of your own creation (my e-mail is barefootkangaroo@aol.com). Then on Tuesday I will shuffle the real verse in with the fake ones and you have to try and pick which is the real verse. You get a point if you pick the real verse and and also if anyone picks your fake verse. In the meantime no looking at the verse in your bibles. That's cheating, and although I hate to discourage people from reading their bibles, I will have to insist that nobody look at the verse in question until the close of the game Midnight (Eastern Standard Time) on Tuesday.

Okay... so here goes. I'm closing my eyes, opening my bible, and ... oh that's no good!

Let's try again.

Psalm 23!

Okay, one more shot.

We've got a winner!

The Bible verse in question is Job 12:19

No Peeking! For a version let's all assume the NIV.

Have all of your fake Job 12:19's to me by Midnight (EST) on Monday.

Whaaaa?!

If you had to change races, which race would you elect to change to? If you are of mixed ancestry you must pick a third race. Best answer so far- Australian Aborigine.