Problems in the Bedroom

Jamie and I have been experiencing problems in the bedroom.

Bet that got your attention.

You see, Jamie is an unapologetic cover snatcher. If you don't know, a cover snatcher is someone who throughout the course of a period of rest methodically snatches the covers off his or her bed buddy. When we lay down to go to sleep every night, I'll start my respite warm and toasty, firmly ensconced in bed sheets and covers. However by morning time, my core body temperature has dropped approximately five to ten degrees because Jamie is warm and toasty, firmly ensconced in bed sheets and covers!

To me, creating an invisible wall (tip of the fedora to the Usual Suspects) in the middle of the bed as well as drawing a big, red line on the center of our comforter is the only logical thing to do. This would provide an objective measuring stick to equally divide the bed sheets and comforter. Jamie disagreed (she muttered something about breaking my nose if she even saw me in our bedroom with a red marker).

Until Jamie and I reach a compromise, I'll probably remain uncovered during the night, left to writhe in cold temperatures. Cue the sad violin music...

A Life in Demise

Well after this morning, I discovered a sure-fire way to ruin my life: drive down I-55 south every weekday morning.

Jamie left her work ID badge at home this morning, so I drove to this place to take it to her. By the time I left her and arrived in Clinton, I had considered the positive effects of copious cocaine use, methamphetamine abuse, and sniffing concentrated sodium hypochlorite.

Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

AFV

Jamie and I have long been fans of America's Funniest Home Videos. But I've always been disappointed with the videos that win the grand prize on the show. They're rarely the funniest video of the episode, let alone just funny!

To me, the funniest video usually involves someone with a glorious lack of sophistication and couth falling flat on their face. But that's just me.

Jim Carrey Does Horatio Cain

I've always been a sucker for television police/crime dramas. Not sure why, but I do like them.

David Caruso brings a special brand of predictable cheese each and every episode of CSI: Miami (but oddly enough, I find myself still wanting more). Take a look at Jim Carrey with his impression of ole' Horatio Cain.

Winsty Baby Flashback

Jamie set up her Fall display at our front door not long ago, and my mind immediately drifted back to one of our first classic pictures of the late, great Winsty baby.

He was a sweetie!

One and Half of One

When I was out of town last week, Jamie texted me early Tuesday morning and said, "Happy one and a half year anniversary!" Uuuuhhhhhhhhhh......

Indeed, I recognize that the Ides of March is my anniversary, but I was under the impression that you only have to count whole years once you reach the first one. I guess not. Nonetheless, Jamie made me this extravagant chocolate cake. And it is good!

Bacon, Bacon, Bacon!

If Jamie ever attempts to modify my eating habits and curtail my junk food intake, may there be no doubt in your mind that I will respond like this.

The Weekend

Well hello there.

For Dixieland...I was born....early, Lord, one frosty morn...look away, look away, look away...Dixieland...

Sorry. I've been listening to Elvis sing a little Dixie. Let me tell you this: most modern day "singers" aren't worthy enough to carry the King's jockstrap. But I digress.

I don't have much to say about this weekend because not much went on for Jamie and me. But let me catch you up on last weekend.

I was privileged to be in my good friend Russell's wedding. Ole Tuss found him one heck of a gal, and Jamie and I have enjoyed getting to know Jessica! And as usually is the case, Russell married well above himself. It was also fun to hang out with my fellow groomsmen. While I was the lone Choctaw, I still was amongst a good group of dudes. Russell and Jessica, congratulations!

I got up early last Monday morning to take a business trip through the great state of Tennessee. We spent some quality time in Memphis and Nashville and a couple of places in between. While it was a whirlwind of a trip, the boss man and myself were able to ride through Franklin, TN. This might have been the highlight for me because "rural Franklin" is a beautiful part of the world. If you're in the area, take some time to ride through Franklin's rolling hills.

Let's chat soon.

God of Rockets Firing Bright

Now here's a great old hymn...

Well you won't be hearing me say that about "God of Earth and Outer Space." This hymn...and technically it is a hymn...made an appearance as Hymn #20 in the 1975 edition of the Baptist Hymnal (but didn't make the cut for the '91 edition). I wonder if this was ever sung during a favorite hymn night (if you're not Southern Baptist, you probably don't know what that is).

And by the way, in addition to the lyrics, the music is included above. Feel free to sing along!

God of earth and outer space,
God of love and God of grace,
Bless the astronauts who fly,
As they soar beyond the sky.
God who flung the stars in space,
God who set the sun ablaze,
Fling the spacecraft thro the air,
Let man know your presence there.

God of atmosphere and air,
God of life and planets bare,
Use man’s courage and his skill
As he seeks your holy will.
God of depth and God of height,
God of darkness, God of light,
As man walks in outer space,
Teach him how to walk in grace.

God of man’s exploring mind,
God of wisdom, God of time,
Launch us from complacency
To a world in need of thee.
God of power, God of might,
God of rockets firing bright.
Hearts ignite and thrust within,
Love for Christ to share with men.

God of earth and outer space,
God who guides the human race,
Guide the lives of seeking youth
In their search for heavn’ly truth.
God who reigns below, above,
God of universal love,
Love that gave Nativity,
Love that gave us Calvary.

Getting Old

It hit me the other day. At twenty-four years of age, I'm definitely getting old. Well I feel like I'm getting old. And the Usual Suspects think it's hilarious to call me paw paw. Now I haven't started shopping for caskets or anything like that, but I have given some significant thought about what I want to do for my mid-life crisis. Really...I don't know what to think about it all...but I'm pretty sure the evidence below indicates I'm teetering on the brink of Depends.

• I've started having horrendous heart burn in the middle of the night. This is a new experience for me. Damn my burning esophagus! Thankfully, some basic care (pun intended) usually can fix this problem.
  
• I'm becoming a little obsessed with the undisputed official show for old folks, Wheel of Fortune. This is a bit embarrassing to admit...even for me...but I now DVR the Wheel (old folks call it "the Wheel"). My Wheel addiction started out rather innocuous. I was watching Pat and Vanna one evening, and I became enraged (seriously, I was stomping around the house) because I couldn't solve any of the puzzles. So I figured I needed some intense puzzle-solving practice. Next thing you know, I find myself addicted. But I am starting to get a little better at the puzzle-solving.
• My hair started turning gray when I was in college and marrying Jamie accelerated that process (just kidding, hun...not really). I don't mind the gray hair, but my hair line has started to recede. Yep...it's started to thin out around my forehead. I'm just a little upset about it. But one thing I've always had in my favor is that the facial hair is still black.
• I'm not sure if snoring is a sign of being old, but it sure makes me feel old. Apparently I snore. At least that's what Jamie tells me. I guess I believe her. In fact, if I ever didn't, I sure do now. A couple of nights ago, I awoke to Jamie standing over me grabbing nose. "What are you doing," I asked her. "Fixing your snoring schnoz," she exclaimed. Finally I realized she was slapping a breath right strip on my nose.

I do have a couple of thing going for me. I've yet to start watching the Weather Channel (MTV for old folks). I do drive fast. I don't get up early in the morning. And, oh yeah, I'm still twenty-four.

Undeniable Truths of Life

Former Ford Retort Official Blog Observer Joe Nathan Snerdley and his wife joined Jamie and myself for dinner at our home yesterday evening. Emerging from the meal and concomitant conversation is a set of statements that I have decided is worth recording. Faithful Ford Retort readers, I present to you the Joe Nathan Snerdley Undeniable Truths of Life:

1. Everybody thinks their public high school is the best high school in the state.
2. Every male thinks they got a great deal on his wife's engagement ring.


While we now only have two established undeniable truths, I'm looking forward to many more. I'll make sure the interns keep this list up to date.

The Ladies Man

Jamie and I just got back from dinner. I'm pretty sure that the Ladies Man Leon Phelps served us our food at the table. Yeaahhhh...

Sitting at the Feet of Jesus

Now here is a beautiful, old song (and the last verse is also a beautiful prayer). If you've ever heard these lyrics sung with conviction, it is marvelous!

Sitting at the feet of Jesus,
Oh, what words I hear Him say!
Happy place! so near, so precious!
May it find me there each day;
Sitting at the feet of Jesus,
I would look upon the past;
For His love has been so gracious,
It has won my heart at last.

Sitting at the feet of Jesus,
Where can mortals be more blest?
There I lay my sins and sorrows,
And, when weary, find sweet rest;
Sitting at the feet of Jesus,
There I love to weep and pray;
While I from His fullness gather
Grace and comfort every day.

Bless me, O my Savior, bless me,
As I sit low at Thy feet;
Oh, look down in love upon me,
Let me see Thy face so sweet;
Give me, Lord, the mind of Jesus,
Keep me holy as He is;
May I prove I’ve been with Jesus,
Who is all my righteousness.

The Weekend

Hi, my name is Michael, and I'm addicted
to fruit from the vine of cluttered garments.

This weekend, Jamie and I didn't do much of anything. Oh, well let me back up before you get the wrong idea. We did things...just not fun things. Actually, this weekend consisted of me wearing my "migrant worker" hat and Jamie wearing her "slave driver" hat. But before we travel down that road, I won't gloss over the fun times we had with the sis's on Friday night. There was a birthday bash to be had, and we had it (be proud, Cindy...you get a shout out....AND the Usual Suspects weren't involved)! True to form, the dinner conversation somehow turned to hygiene and other unholy topics. But you can't beat a few cheap laughs, can you?

Jamie wrote recently that she spent the weekend "organizing her life." Don't be fooled. This is nothing more than a pretty little euphemism to describe a wretched weekend for me. Jamie worked me like a cheap piece of meat. So we cleaned. And we I washed. And we I ironed. And we threw away. And we tidied up. I will admit that my primary vice for which I suffered is my clothes. They have a certain affinity to scatter themselves around our bedroom. And, yes, they do get out of control. This weekend was almost like being in detox. After spending my life boozing on fruit from the vine of cluttered garments...yeah...I pretty much was drunk. The withdrawal symptoms were not pleasant, but Jamie runs a top-notch detox program.

I'll let you in on a little secret. The real problem? Too many clothes.

Jobs?

O Love That Will Not Let Me Go

Divinely exquisite!

O Love that will not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

Furniture Store

Watching television in the Jackson, MS area entitles you to seeing copious amounts of advertisements from this furniture store. Well...not surprisingly...they don't have a website. I'm talking about T&D Furniture. In my humble opinion, the commercials produced by T&D are amazingly annoying, painfully uncreative, and scream, "Hey, we're located in Pearl!"

T&D, if you're listening, take a few tips on television advertising from these folks (and see above video). Now they know how to make commercials for tacky furniture stores!

The Weekend: A Tardy Post

• Life around the house this past weekend was productive. The grass got mowed, flower beds were weeded, clothes were washed, and paper was shredded. I love it!
  
• Saturday night, Jamie and I went to a wedding reception at the Northpoint Barn in Jackson. This band played. Most importantly, I got a sink repair out of the deal!
• Sunday night, Jamie and I ate dinner with these folks. As I told them, we were excited to actually get to spend time talking with them instead of only reading about them. Of course, you know talking in person is sooo 1990's. In this age of texting, blogging, and social networking, communication among warm bodies is a bit...you know...old fashion.
• Jamie and I talked about the Winsty baby this weekend. We still miss him a lot, but we're not quite as sad as we have been. We have several pictures of him around the house. They keep us smiling!
  

Communication

I was recently speaking with a coworker, and she was telling me about how wonderful her boyfriend is. From her stories, her beau strikes me as an alright fellow. However, my coworker did go on to say that from time to time, maybe when the moon is full, she and Prince Charming have mild disagreements. She gave me some penetrating commentary on their tiffs. "It's usually due to a lack of communication."

Back in 1992, the folks at Time magazine must have been incredibly proud of their reporting when they published the earth-shattering observation that men and women are born different (see above image). Unfreakinbelievably profound, I must say. Volumes of books have been written on the subject of the differences between males and females (and how to reconcile those differences), but like my coworker, the communication barriers plague me the most. Here's a story to illustrate.

The following series of events takes place every two to the three weeks around the Ford abode, and the reactions and results are the same. Any given evening, Jamie will find me sitting in my recliner, relaxing and reflecting on everything good. And then Mrs. Ford makes this declaration: this house is a disaster! My reaction? Nothing. Now let's explore this. From Jamie's point of view, approaching me and declaring that our house is a disaster should invoke a certain response. Jamie expects me to drop what I'm doing, hop up, and vigorously inquire of her how this disaster can be fixed. Anything less, and I solicit her wrath. Let's explore what goes through my mind.

I hear Jamie say, "This house is a disaster!" Admittedly, I hear her, but I don't listen. Why? It's actually quite simple. In my mind, a disaster is something like a dormant volcano exploding in our living room. If I asses the alleged disaster, and the solution to the alleged disaster involves between five and ten minutes of light cleaning, I ignore her. Simply put, disasters require more than five to ten minutes of light cleaning.

I know many female Ford Retort readers still need further explanation, and because the Ford Retort strives to be a digital domain of positive education and unbridled reconciliation, I will take more time to expound on these ideas. If Jamie came up to me and said, "There's a big, purple elephant sitting on my head, so stop what you're doing and come help me get this big, purple elephant off my head," I would ignore her. I believe you probably understand why. That Elephantidae scenario is beyond the realm of possibility. Thus, when Jamie says the house is a disaster (and since I associate disasters with dormant volcanoes exploding), I ignore for her the same reasons I would ignore her if she said, "There's a big, purple elephant sitting on my head, so stop what you're doing and come help me get this big, purple elephant off my head."

Jamie and I discussed this particular communication issue not long ago, and because she's a very level-headed gal, she definitely understood where I am coming from. Communication...try it...it's a great thing!

Supper Club

Jamie and I joined our first ever supper club (the Usual Suspects don't really count as one)!

I'm not really sure why I put an exclamation point behind the previous sentence because I'm rather confident that membership in a supper club indicates that you are an old fart.

We did have a good time, though, and enjoyed sharing several stories with old and new friends. We ate at this restaurant. Not half bad...

Been In Trouble With The Law Since The Day He Was Born

It seems as of late that I've had a few run-ins with local authorities. Let me tell you about them.

While driving home one evening a month or so ago, I came upon a license check being run by the Highway Patrol. I expected to produce my license and proof of insurance for the officer and then sail on my merry way. Frankly, I enjoy a good license check...you know...keeps the vagrants and filth out of the neighborhood. "Mr. Ford," the officer said after giving me back my license and proof of insurance, "are you aware your inspection sticker has been expired almost a year?" Uhhhhhhhh. "Please pull off the side of the road, and I'll be with you momentarily."

I left that encounter with a ticket for having an expired inspection sticker. And while the Highway Patrol officer exemplified the agency's motto of, "courtesy, service, and safety," I didn't exactly drive away fond of my experience. Nonetheless, I am glad to report that mailing proof of a new inspection sticker (which I acquired approximately 12 hours after my chastisement) along with the ticket to the local county courthouse will expunge the ticket and its penalty from your record. Since my entire experience was rather painless, it may have been worth it to see what is plastered across the bottom of one of Mississippi's uniform traffic tickets. Directly above the space for the signature of the officer of the peace is a statement along the lines of "infringement against the honor and innocence of the State of Mississippi..." I laughed aloud the first time I read that and thought to myself, "Did I just rape the State of Mississippi?"

My latest run in with local authorities occurred yesterday. Jamie and I were eating dinner with half of the Usual Suspects at our house, and she recounted an incident that occurred earlier in the day. Apparently an agent of the county came aboard my personal property and removed a pampas grass from my flower bed. From our inspection, we hypothesize that the county feels my pampas grass is obstructing my water meter. I was a little peeved when Jamie told me she watched this guy (apparently a big guy) extirpate my pampas grass without accosting him. She told me that he was a big guy and the chainsaw he was wielding scared her. I told her that if the guy was indeed one buffet line away from a myocardial infarction, he probably wouldn't have been a formidable foe (chainsaw or no chainsaw).

I'll have to consult with my legal counsel, but I have a feeling there is nothing I can do (legally) about the pillaging of my verdant property. And yes, the fat guy really did use a chainsaw to dig up my pampas grass!

Sunday Morning Update

Good morning!

It is now official. These folks have come and gone. They told us what we already knew: we have no deficiencies! For now, I'll have a break from ensuring continuous compliance with so many of their silly standards. Uhhhhhuuuuuhhhhhhhhh (that was me taking a deep breath).

There's a lot to catch up on (blog-wise and life-wise). Saturday during the day, I did little to nothing. And I have no qualms about it. But yesterday night, Jamie and I were able to catch up with some friends (known as the B B club to some) I originally met at this place. Good times!

I need to run for now. Jamie is working today, and I'm about to take her and her coworkers lunch from this place. Check back in soon. I look forward to chatting and catching up!

Jamie's Lasik Surgery

Jamie went under the laser Friday morning for Lasik eye surgery. I am pleased to report that the procedure and recovery so far (according to this gentleman) are going well. Other than the fact that she's annoyed with me because I'm asking her to read everything at a distance of greater than twenty feet, Jamie is very pleased with her Lasik decision. She's looking forward to throwing away the glasses and contact lenses.

I stayed out of the office on Friday so I could chauffeur Jamie around for the day. In addition to my transportation responsibilities, I also spent some quality time catching up on this show.

Before they took Jamie back for her procedure, we lingered in a waiting room among twenty or so people. Jamie and I were particularly humored by a gentleman who sat near us. I'm going to guess this gentleman was born and raised in Bude, Mississippi. He was rather loquacious, and because he had undergone several medical procedures, he went out of his way to let everybody know the ins and outs of what was about to happen to them. After listening to him talk for about ten minutes, I leaned over to Jamie and whispered, "I think that guy could really help out the doctor in your surgery. I'm about to go ask him if he'd be willing to scrub in." As I leaned forward to get out of my chair, Jamie pinched the back of my left arm and brought me to my knees as I cried out in pain. Surprisingly, nobody paid much attention to our incident. I think we were simply among fellow clowns in the circus of a surgery center.

Several associates of mine have voiced a bigger concern about Jamie's Lasik surgery: now that she can see you better, is she going to stick around?

Freak Out!

YouTube is awash in freak out videos. A friend showed me this one the other day. I also particularly enjoyed the Super Mario remix below.

I'd Rather Have Jesus

Have you ever been in church, singing a hymn or any song for that matter and just had to stop singing? For me, it's happened more than once with this song. "I'd Rather Have Jesus" is a great hymn, but I've often been overcome with the words I am singing. The lyrics are direct, and the message is a bold proclamation. These are not small words, and I've found myself crippled with conviction a time or two.

I'd rather have Jesus than silver or gold;
I'd rather be his than have riches untold;
I'd rather have Jesus than houses or lands,
I'd rather be led by his nail-pierced hand.

Than to be a king of a vast domain
Or be held in sin's dread sway,
I'd rather have Jesus than anything
This world affords today.

I'd rather have Jesus than men's applause;
I'd rather be faithful to his dear cause;
I'd rather have Jesus than world-wide fame,
I'd rather be true to his holy name.

Than to be a king of a vast domain
Or be held in sins dread sway,
I'd rather have Jesus than anything
This world affords today.

He's fairer than lilies of rarest bloom;
He's sweeter than honey from out of the comb;
He's all that my hungering spirit needs,
I'd rather have Jesus and let Him lead.

Than to be a king of a vast domain
Or be held in sin's dread sway,
I'd rather have Jesus than anything
This world affords today.