Noodles, Noodles, Everywhere!!

Posted: June 23, 2018 in Uncategorized
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Noodles, Noodles, Everywhere!!

(a true story from the Moonpie Chronicles)

My name is Moonpie McLovenugget, and I am one.

I now own nine teeth, and that makes life more fun. 

I get to eat things like chicken nuggets, strawberries, and oatmeal creme pies.

Not long ago I only ate chalky formula from a bottle, SO I’m really glad that time flies. 

I’m pretty sure that my Gi Gi just gave me a bowl of MAGIC noodles,

Because somehow a few noodles became oodles and oodles. 

I have fistfuls of long stringy pasta that I’m just flinging around.

They go everywhere, all over the dog, on the walls and the ground. 

They’re on my face, and in my hair,

Noodles, Noodles, Everywhere! 

Look! noodles are under there!

(Wait, under where?)

HA! I made you say underwear!!

There are thousands of noodles hiding there,

Underneath my sticky high chair.

Maggie the Wonder Hound loves it when I eat.

She takes her place right underneath my seat.

She catches all the food that I toss and drop on the floor.

She noisily gulps it all down and then begs for more. 

You would think that the big sloppy mess would make my GiGi frown.

But, she winks and smiles, because she likes having me around. 

The Lazarus Tree.

Posted: June 21, 2018 in Uncategorized
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This lovely little shrubbery was planted in our yard before we moved in.
It seems that landscapers had carelessly planted it in a place that wasn’t healthy.
They had one job to do, and that was all that they cared about. Get the plant in place.
But, they put the plant in a precarious place.
This type of shrubbery requires as much shade as sun. But the landscape crew planted it in a place where it got way too much, nonstop direct sunlight.
It really didn’t have a chance.
It started to droop.
We noticed it didn’t look good.
We watered the shrub a few times.
But it didn’t make it.
It died a slow, ugly plant death.
It turned grayish brown and crackly. A bird built a  little nest and spiders built some webs in the dead limbs.
It was dead.
One day, I decided it was time to get rid of the deadness.
I was going to get it out of the yard and transplant it to the trash can.
I found my nasty old garden gloves. I grabbed the tree at its scrawny base and I grabbed it, I pulled and yanked.
Then I shook it…violently.
I was trying to uproot it.
I couldn’t do it. The roots were too deep.
I just shook it up.
I think I might have made it a little crooked.
But the roots wouldn’t budge and I walking away, vowing to return with a shovel or a backhoe.
But then, I got distracted, and I forgot about the shrub.
After all, it was just a little ugly crooked bush.
AND, for ALL of last year, it was undeniably dead…dingy…dry…done.
But then something impossible happened…
Resurrection.
A while back, we noticed green.
It was there, undeniable, unexpected.
It was spreading…
LIFE in dead places!!
AND, now this summer, the shrub is ALIVE!!
I don’t know what happened, maybe the shaking brought it back to life. Maybe new life requires a shake up.
Resurrection happens.
But, It ONLY happens in dead places.
What about you?
Do you feel ALIVE?
Or do you feel like you are dingy…dry…done?
Are you looking at some dead dreams, relationships, situations?
Know that your roots run deep.
But, maybe you need a shakeup.
You need the impossible to be shaken loose.
Listen…
“Lazarus, come forth!”
Bloom again!
Life is coming to the dead places.
“there will come a time when you believe everything is finished, that will be the beginning.” – Louis L’amour

One beautiful season?

Posted: June 19, 2018 in Uncategorized
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OLE, OLE, OLE…OK?

I remember when soccer came to Oklahoma.
Back, when I was a kid, we knew nothing about soccer.
Oklahoma was a state that LOVED football…
just the kind of football that you throw around with your hands.
But then, sometime in the late seventies, the Sooner state somehow fell in love with “that other football”.
There was even a professional team, the Tulsa Roughnecks. They were pretty good and they had a cool logo (it was a burly looking cartoon oil worker wearing thigh high soccer shorts).
Suddenly, soccer was cool!
And suddenly, youth leagues were starting up all over.
My parents decided I should try soccer. After all, It could help develop my nonexistent motor skills and eye hand coordination…right?
I remember wearing the scratchy uniform ever, it was made out of some weird polyester – burlap blend. It caused instant chafing, that was fun! The uniform was red and white…so was the chafing.
I wore plastic shin guards that came up to my waist because my legs were so short. That made things a little awkward. I ran like Darth Vader on cough medicine.
I don’t remember actually kicking the ball, I DO remember falling down a lot.
Incidentally, “FIFA” was the breathy sound that I made as I hit the ground and the air got knocked out of me.
Because, I spent so much time on the ground, I took a few cleats to the face…that was no bueno.
I don’t remember the taste of victory, I DO remember the taste of freshly cut grass.
Instead of the World Cup, I just wanted a big cup full of root beer from the tastee-freez after the game.
After one not so beautiful season, I added soccer to my long list of athletic non-accomplishments.
I participated long before anybody thought about giving out participation trophies.
I know that some people love soccer and I lift my barely used shin guard to them and say “ole!”, but for me, soccer was a kick in the head…literally.

Wild turkeys and when WHOA becomes WOW.

Posted: June 7, 2018 in Uncategorized
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I almost killed a wild turkey this morning…

with my car.

I was on the way to work, driving along unsuspectingly, when there he was!

He came from my blind side, I suddenly saw it trying to run across the street.

He was quite plump and he was jogging in a herky jerky spastic style, I immediately thought “WOW! that’s what it looks like when I try to run.” Except that I’m much slower. 

Then, right before he ran into my Kia, the turkey took off in very awkward flight, he was frantically flapping his wings and flipping his feet for leverage. It really looked like the wild turkey had been drinking Wild Turkey. 

THEN…at the very last second, just before the gobbler became part of my windshield…

awkward became agile!

The wild turkey took off in wild, beautiful flight. 

I’m so glad!!

I would have felt REALLY bad about hitting him.

The wild turkey would have felt worse.

It can save a life when awkward becomes agile and we suddenly take off.

Fly turkey fly! 

a prayer for my fellow vagabonds and refugees…

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Image  —  Posted: May 30, 2018 in Uncategorized

Jedi.

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Image  —  Posted: May 30, 2018 in Uncategorized

Let’s go racing!!

Posted: May 27, 2018 in Uncategorized
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We are smack dab in the middle of race weekend in Charlotte.
It’s a pretty big deal…it’s even kinda sacred. Thanks to some very cool friends, we are going to the races. (Thank you Daniel and Aryn!! You guys are awesome!!)
We love the races!!
There is absolutely nothing like a live race.
It is a special flavor of fun…
The fans, the fumes, the funnel cakes!!
We arrived in record time. We parked about 12 miles from the track and we walked into the redneck promise land.
THESE are our people!
We were swept up in a big perfectly imperfect wave of beautiful humanity. There are so many interesting sights, sounds and smells.
There is always a crazy sense of community as people brag about their favorite driver and talk a little smack about other drivers.
I’m a Kyle Busch fan so I always attract a lot of unsolicited advice and hand gestures.
(People have thrown boiled peanuts at me and spilled beer on my daughter who I had excitedly bought a #18 shirt for and then I made her wear it to her race a few years back…she was very…um…thankful.)
It’s all good fun.
Even though you have “your driver”, you’ve got to realize that racing is a pure team sport. There are a crew and a crew chief and hardworking people back at the shop. There are people at the track making sure that the motor magic happens. It is an incredible example of teamwork.
We walked around outside and got free cups, stickers, and shirts. We had the opportunity to visit a time share for a “free” weekend. We could buy caps and koozies. It is always such a blast just to see the exhibits and vendors outside the track.
Then we went in, walked up the grandstand and found our seats.
There is truly not a bad seat at Charlotte Motor Speedway, I can safely say that because I have sat in a lot of them!
The drivers were introduced.
The National Anthem was beautiful and downright soul stirring.
And then the moment arrived…
The 4 most famous words in motorsports…
“DRIVERS
START
YOUR
ENGINES!!”
The cars started and you could feel the thunder!!
I have to confess that today, when I felt the rumbly in my tumbly caused by the stock cars as they ignited, I got a little misty eyed and it wasn’t just the gas fumes.
It was the awe inspiring convergence of cars, community, and corndogs.
It is a wonderful, Sunoco drenched thing.
Stock car racing is the true beautiful sport.
So many people just don’t get it!
NASCAR is a sport that is wide open.
Even, the metal seats at the speedway are wide-opener than the seats at most sporting events, as a chunky little brother I appreciate that!
There was a rain delay, but we didn’t let that rain on our parade. It was just an excuse to sit next to my best friend and eat beef jerky and chick-o-sticks. The big trucks that dried the track made a low, wheezing noise that at first sounded like bagpipes playing Amazing Grace, but after about 49 seconds, they sounded like an irritated, constipated goat.
After about an hour, the track was dry and we got to hear the cars start again…AHHHH!
They finished up.
There were a few wrecks, several cautions, and one dude in front of us seriously destroyed a massive turkey leg.
My driver didn’t win tonight…sometimes that happens.
Brad Keselowski won and did a very impressive burnout. We have some mutual friends who say that Brad is a really good guy, so I’m happy for him and his fans.
We walked out tonight of the speedway next to Michael Waltrip, who is about 3 feet taller than me. 3 and a half feet if you count his very cool hair. The man is evidently a multitasker because AS he was walking, he was eating pizza off of a briefcase. It was quite impressive.
We will be back tomorrow, ready to feel the thunder and enjoy everything that comes along with it.

BOOGITY BOOGITY BOOGITY.

Megaphone.

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Image  —  Posted: May 22, 2018 in Uncategorized

Cautionary Creativity.

Posted: May 20, 2018 in Uncategorized
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Here’s something that I didn’t learn in 10th grade art class…

Sometimes when you make art, people aren’t going to like it.
It’s true.
I’ve learned that sometimes craft confuses people.
To be an artist is to be willing to be misunderstood.

I was three years old when I first learned that sometimes when you unleash some art, not everyone will celebrate it.
My cousin Kelly was/is my sistah from anutha mistah. We have both always possessed the same wild, weird, offbeat, fun seeking spirit. We only got to see each other about once a year because she lived in Washington, and I lived in Oklahoma. But, from the start we’ve had a serious bond. Once, during their yearly visit, after a morning of playing and visiting the zoo, it was nap time. We were at Grandma’s House. Our   exhausted mothers tucked us in and left us alone in a back bedroom.
BIG mistake.
There was art in our three year old selves waiting to get out.
We quietly explored the room and do you know what we found?
A big box with Grandma’s oil paints.
It was full of tubes of every imaginable color.
And so we created!
We finger painted the walls, the bedsheets, and when we ran out of space, we painted ourselves.
By the time we were finished, it looked like a unicorn had vomited cold rainbow soup all over everything within a twenty foot radius.
And THAT is when our mothers decided to check on us.
We were quite proud of our work. It was beautiful and original.
But…SHOCKER…no one over the age of three shared our enthusiasm.
After a moment of shocked silence, there was some shouting and probably some cursing and feeble attempts to erase the art.
What we viewed as art, the adults viewed as vandalism.
It wasn’t the last time that happened.
In fourth grade I spent hours carefully drawing a picture of Tom Landry. I really felt like it was a masterpiece that belonged in a museum or the Hall of Fame. I showed it to my gym teacher who told me it looked like a potato in a hat. That was hurtful.
As a sixteen year old, I was the editorial cartoonist for my hometown newspaper for two weeks. The city councilman who was the object of my second cartoon threatened to sue the paper, so, I was fired.
I’ve written stuff that has been misinterpreted and used against me.
I had people insist that I redo projects for them twelve times until they felt like I finally “got it right”. This was a project that they weren’t paying me for.
My artwork has been called crude and superficial and weird.
I’m okay with that, because my artwork has also made some people smile and feel hope and joy.
My artwork makes me smile.
It’s what I was created to do.
When you make stuff, most people won’t get it. Some people will be mean. Some people will be confused. Some people will try to shut you down.
Criticism can cut.
Don’t let it quiet.
The natural reaction is retreat.
You want to pack up your crayons and go home.
You can refuse to share your stuff, but that would be a crime against humanity.
The world desperately needs to see what you see.
Art is meant to be shared.
Art is all about how YOU see the world.
The vision is yours.
It’s not up for debate.
Every body sees the world differently, some people will appreciate your viewpoint, some won’t. Don’t let that stop you from crafting what you see.
You create…
You make…
You reproduce the deepest parts of your soul so that the whole world can see what you see.
Sometimes they will thank you and celebrate your craft.
Sometimes they will stomp on what you crafted.
Don’t stop.
The world desperately needs to see what you see.
Break out the big box of paint and use every imaginable color!

Back Scratch Fever.

Posted: May 18, 2018 in Uncategorized
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This morning my sweet little granddaughter was feeling a little sour. She was cranky, the Moonpie had her pouty face on as she incoherently fussed about something. I scooted over next to her and started scratching her back. She suddenly started smiling and purring like a satisfied Siamese.
Never underestimate the healing power of the back scratch.
It took me back to when I was a kid sitting in church on a Sunday night. I didn’t want to be there and I was pretty sure I was going to die from boredom. But, then my Mom would reach over and start scratching my back. That made everything better.
It was like some kind of childhood medicinal magic.
When I got a bit older I learned the wonder of the self-scratch. My favorite accessory was the shiny purple plastic backscratcher with the creepy looking hand. It was amazing. You could get it at Stuckey’s or any amusement park. You could also get the slightly classier bamboo version, but for me the purple creepy hand did the trick.
I’ve also scratched my back with a pencil, a stick, and a plastic fork.
I’ve awkwardly rubbed up against a wall to ease my back itch.
Don’t judge me.
One of life’s sweetest and simplest pleasures is a good backscratching. It’s unquestionably therapeutic and undeniably mood altering.
I think the world should catch back scratch fever.
I think there should be corporate back scratch breaks. Every afternoon there would be a 15 minute mandatory break, everything would shut down and everybody would break out their purple plastic creepy hands. The workplace would be a much more relaxed happy place.
Or how about world leaders getting their backs scratched while they meet about tense diplomatic matters. It could change everything. That simple act could prevent some wars. It’s hard to strut and swagger when you are being scratched.
Anyway, that’s what I think. I’ve gotta go…suddenly my back is itching.
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