carbonated joy

Once upon a time there was a legendary place of legend in an enchanted place called Tulsa…
It was a big pink Mexican restaurant called Casa Bonita, which means “pretty house”. It was a pretty part of my childhood and young adulthood.
AHHHH, Casa Bonita…
It is a deep fried memory slathered in sweet honey. It is wonder rolled up in a flour tortilla.
You would go into this amazing stucco village. You would usually have to wait in line, so the anticipation would ripen like an avocado until you just couldn’t stand it! Then you would grab a plastic tray and choose between the all you can eat beef or chicken plate. There were other items on the menu, but when you can get ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT-TACOS, the choice is pretty clear!! You would raise a flag when you needed more tacos or another cheese enchilada. It was there that I developed a full blown love for all things Tex Mex.
One of the truly awesome, magical things was the space. You could eat IN A CAVE!!! There was a volcano that went off every 10 minutes. (It was probably the only working volcano in Oklahoma) There were spots that made you think that you were eating outside in Monterrey. In later years, there was a really cool game room. You could play some serious skeeball and win a giant pencil or lucky rabbits foot keychain.
There was usually a strolling Mariachi band made up of middle aged men. They would stand awkwardly close to you while you were eating, play an out of tune guitar and sing “La Bamba” and “Roly Poly, daddy’s little fatty”. If you didn’t make eye contact they would eventually go away.
One of the absolute best things was the Sopapilla, it was a ridiculously delicious deep fried bread pocket that you filled with honey!! They would bring you baskets of them. They were golden brown nuggets of heaven!
As you were leaving you got to visit the treasure room and pick some cool little trinket out of the treasure box.
It was a singularly awesome establishment . As a kid, I went with my grandparents and cousins and later my friends.
As an young adult person, I got to experience IT with my bride, We lived in Tulsa when Diana was pregnant with our daughter. That became our go-to pregnancy comfort food place. Diana would have a craving for a burrito or sopapilla and I was more than happy to go along. We would sit there, eat our weight in refried beans, repeatedly raise the flag and dream out-loud about our future.
Sometimes, some of the sweetest memories smell like fried food.
Casa Bonita closed a few years back, I miss it and it makes me sad that future generations will never get to raise the flag.
But now I say…
Don’t let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief shining moment, that was known as Casa Bonita.

From the badlands came the cowboys…actually, from the suburbs came the cousins.
Me and my cousin, Ken. One time we went on a trail ride with our Grandpa.
It was a big deal to us.
We had been allowed to tag along on this great adventure. It was a chance to ride a horse through the uncharted trails of north east Oklahoma and to sit around a camp fire, eat some beans, and maybe chew some beechnut chewing tobacco.
It was a big deal to Grandpa for different reasons.
He had invited us into his social circle. He was a proud chaps wearing member of the Oil Capital club, they rode horses in parades and took annual trail rides.
He wanted to show off his grandsons to his Cowboy buddies. We, on the other hand, just wanted to ride wild and free.
We were riding two Shetland ponies named Pinecone and George. They were spunky, stout horses who weren’t quite four feet tall. What they lacked in height, they made up for in personality.
I was riding Pinecone. We started out early in the morning, Ken, me, Grandpa and a bunch of old dudes on well behaved quarter horses. They were hardly riding wild and free. They were plodding along enjoying the ride, appreciating some beautiful nature. We were boys, we got bored fast. So we decided to race. We broke away from the slow moving pack. We shouted “YAH, YAH!” (That’s Cowboy talk for GO FAST LITTLE PONY!!) and they took off!! We were riding wild and free! We were going fast…well, as fast as a really short legged horse can run. They aren’t really built for speed, but that didn’t slow them down! The wind was in our hair and we were bouncing on our short steeds. It was briefly awesome and awesomely brief!!
We were racing back into the barn. We were clearly winning, although I’m not sure if that counts if none of the other participants know there is a race. They were too busy just enjoying the ride, except for Grandpa…
We were running wild and free right into the barn. I couldn’t slow Pinecone the wonder pony down. He was clearly wide open!! He ran until he stopped…suddenly…without warning…right in front of a metal water trough. He stopped so suddenly that he flung me right out of he saddle! I flew right into the water trough.
The good news was because I was riding a Shetland pony, I didn’t have far to fall.
The bad news was that water troughs are really nasty! Warm water, June bugs, leaves and muck and pony saliva!
I was soaked! I got baptized in water and horse slobber!
Grandpa yelled at us for being irresponsible. It was one of two times that I remember my grandfather raising his voice toward me. I suspect we embarrassed him in front of his friends.
When you break away from the pack and blaze your own trail, be ready to get yelled at, you will probably get messy. Let me tell you, from personal experience, It’s worth it! But, ALSO, remember to honor the ones who blazed the trails before you, the ones who paid for you to ride, the ones who invited you into the circle. They can teach you a thing or two about being wild and free.

I feel puffy,
Oh, so puffy,
I feel puffy and scruffy and uptight.
And I can’t help but wish
That right now was Friday night.

I was driving to work this morning. I was near our friendly neighborhood nuclear power plant (seriously) and something caught my eye: a nervous little squirrel. He was trying to get from one side of the road to the other. (So…why did the squirrel cross the road?) He looked frightened, totally emaciated and a little mangy. Nuclear squirrel frantically dodged in front of me and I swerved to barely miss him. It was like a spastic squirrel version of the old arcade game Frogger. He was desperately trying to cross the busy street. I watched, in my rear view mirror, as he made a final sprint for freedom when, SUDDENLY, his little squirrel dreams were crushed by the fast-moving blue Minivan right behind me . Yes, sadly, the poor little guy didn’t quite make it. He became just another roadkill statistic. Let’s take a moment of silence to remember this ill-fated, little squirrel….

Ahem, okay.

In contrast to this sad squirrelly story, recently I was driving past a lovely little man made pond. I saw brake lights and noticed that several cars were stopped in front of me. I was ticked because I really didn’t have time for this, and why were we stopping anyway!?
I finally got close enough to see what the holdup was, there was a family of carefree ducks crossing the street. It seemed as if they were moving in slow motion. Then one of the ducks stopped and started cleaning herself right there in the middle of the road. We sat there for five minutes. We were all honking and yelling at the duck. One guy even got out of his car and tried to shoo the duck out of the way. But she ignored us all, and finally, when she was ready, she moved to the other side of the road with her family.
Now, I’m thinking about the squirrel and the duck and the difference between the two. The big difference was a big sign next to the pond. It was a reflective, yellow, triangular sign with the silhouettes of a mama duck and two baby ducks. This was a designated duck crossing. A way had been made for the ducks to safely cross the road—and they knew it. They were protected by an outside source. They could take their time, and nobody could touch them.
But there was no sign or squirrel crossing for my little furry friend. He was totally on his own—and he knew it. He had no protection and therefore no future.
I realized that many times in my life I’ve felt like the spastic little squirrel. Life can move pretty fast and I can frantically run from one situation or problem to the next. I move as fast as I can hoping that I don’t become roadkill. But it doesn’t have to be like that. As a friend of God, I’m promised protection from an outside source. I know God has made a way for me. I can be confident and trust Him. No matter what danger is zooming around me, I can know he’s made it possible for me to cross over to the other side. The times I feel boxed in, when it seems like there’s no way out, I just need to act like a duck instead of a squirrel. I can move in the knowledge that God has prepared a way for me to make it. I can just slow down and enjoy the scenery as I cross the street.

(Cue the Sarah McLachlan music)
Everyday in America MOTS affects unsuspecting American people. MOTS is a silent killer of enthusiasm and dreams, MOTS causes atrophy of the imagination. MOTS is More Of The Same. It is the insanity of doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
It is sparked by the paralyzing ADITW virus (Always Done It That Way).
The symptoms of MOTS are a marked absence of passion, creativity and risk taking. It can cause breakouts of irrelevance and complete boredom.
The cure is a joyful rebellion against the status quo. You have to refuse to rinse and repeat, instead rinse and revolutionize.
Refuse to play the game of same.
Take a stand, shout it loud enough to wake those who snore…
“I’m living wild and unpredictable and I want MORE!”…Just not more of the same.
Join the fight against MOTS!
Do different daily.
Try. Risk. Jump. Dance. Fail. Giggle. Instigate. Incite. Create. Think.
Join the joyful rebellion!
We must stop MOTS in our lifetime. C’mon! Do it for the children.

I’m a proud alumni of Schoolhouse Rock
I’m not sure how impressive that would be on my resume, but it’s true.
Music and pictures taught me much more than lectures and standardized tests. There’s a lesson there!
Why do I treasure my time at the School of Schoolhouse Rock?
Why, its elementary, my dear. I learned the function of a conjunction. I celebrated the great American melting pot. I discovered that three is truly a magic number and zero is a hero! I was told to unpack my adjectives and that was great, important and magnificent. I still can tell you how a lowly bill can become a law. THAT is electricity, electricity!! I was off to great places with Interplanet Janet. I learned that learning can be fun! I discovered discovery and it had a beat that you can dance to!
I’m pretty sure that I got a Masters from the School of Schoolhouse Rock, It’s been forty years and I can STILL sing along with all the songs.
So, I THINK I will put that on my resume,
with Schoolhouse Rock, how wonderful you are.

Those crazy millennials!
With their skinny jeans and man buns and coffee shops and questionable work ethic…
I hear millennials get blamed for a lot.
They seem to be the cause for the mess we find ourselves in.
It’s not US, must be THEM, right?
We group a generation together and paint them all with the same accusatory brush. It’s gotta stop! Accusing the young is getting old.
You would think that we would have recognized by now that stereotypes stifle spirit.
We need to quit treating people like they are inherently worse than us because they were born after us.
EVERY age is golden in it’s own way AND EVERY age is tarnished in it’s own way.
EVERY generation, since the beginning of time, has BOTH stepped up AND screwed up. It’s a tasty combo platter of our DNA and the consequences of our choices.
But there is hope for all of us, we are ALL equal parts of beautiful AND broken.
It’s about family instead of generation.
We ALL have both nothing AND everything to offer.
Let’s learn from each other during our shared journey.

Out of the deep woods of our everyday life, it lumbers…Sas-squash!
We are camping out in our routine and then SUDDENLY we hear…CRACK…a branch breaks underfoot of the Bigfoot. We see the shadowy figure and we know nothing will ever be the same.
It’s Sas-squash!!
There can be times when we all have that presence lurking in our life. We wish that it was a hoax, but sadly it’s a big hairy reality. It could be foe or family. Maybe, it’s that person looking over your shoulder waiting to catch you messing up. It’s the one rubbing your past in your face. It’s the one who takes the credit or who pulls out the rug. It’s the one building their self esteem at the expense of yours.
It’s the squasher of hopes and dreams…
it’s Sas-squash.
Sometimes folklore sadly becomes real life, in our cubicles and classrooms, our living rooms and office meetings.
Sas-squashes crush our dreams and hopes. They squash our enthusiasm. They squash the momentum right out of the moment. They suck the air out of the room. Their goal seems to be to leave us flat. They repeatedly sucker punch our souls. They load unbearable amounts of stress upon us.
It’s frightening, We feel their big hairy feet on our neck, holding us down, holding us back.
What can we do? How can we be bigger than Bigfoot? How can we be stronger than the squash?
We REMIND ourselves who we are. Don’t let others press you into a mold. Be yourself, use your unique gifts, sing your song, fly your flag.
We need to REMIND ourselves that we are loved by the people closest to us, AND by the all powerful ONE who made us.
We allow those remembrances to solidify like cement on the inside of us. What is inside becomes stronger than the external forces. We respond with love, we respond with forgiveness. We trust in the ONE who makes strong.
We use these things like flashlights in the dark woods.
Light exposes the lurkers.
It might take a while, but light wins.
The light of truth.
The light of love.
It sends Sas-squash running.
He awkwardly runs away on his big hairy feet.
Light wins.