tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5554547608657576952024-03-18T11:26:16.950-04:00The Sublime to the RidiculousA little space where we talk about anything and everything: politics, sports, family, religion, the mundane, absolutely whatever comes up. Perhaps even curling and Canada.Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.comBlogger4165125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-34749483716471806872024-03-18T08:43:00.001-04:002024-03-18T08:43:18.161-04:00Where is this Going?A few years ago I met an old curling friend for golf. After a short discussion we decided to play in Canada. I crossed over the border one Sunday, we played 18 holes, went to a pub and grub for a couple pints and some, well, grub, decided to hit the links again soon, and parted ways.<br />It was next, in my return to these United States, that the story became in my mind kinda weird.<br />I stopped at the guard booth and dutifully handed the attendant my enhanced license. "Citizenship?" he asked brusquely.<br />You just swiped my license, so you know the answer to that, I thought brusquely myself. But I obediently answered, "U.S."<br />"Purpose of your trip?"<br />"I was golfing with a Canadian curling friend."<br />The man turned to look at me and asked, I thought rather harshly, "What have you got against golf in the United States?"<br />"N, nothing," I heard myself stammer. "We just decided to golf in Canada."<br />He began staring me down, and I have to admit I was starting to feel intimidated, "Why would you decide that?"<br />"Well, no big reason. It seemed cheaper for me cross the border and pay in Canadian dollars, that's all."<br />"So what's your problem with US dollars?" continued the interrogation.<br />I wasn't sure how to answer that, as I truly love US dollars as much as any red blooded American. I responded meekly, "It just seemed cheaper."<br />The guard harrumphed, and turned to look at his monitor. "And how did you meet this 'curling friend'?" I swear you could see the quote marks hanging in the air.<br />I really wasn't sure how to answer that; from his tone it didn't appear as though there was a right answer. "Uh, well, curling?" It sounded even to me like I responded with the lilt of a question. That's not gonna help here, I thought with no small fear.<br />He asked, "Do you have your clubs with you?"<br />"Yes. In the back of my van." I stupidly indicated where the back of my van was with a twist of my head.<br />"What kind are they?" he demanded.<br />I answered incredulously, "Clevelands." Where's he going with this?<br />The guard turned again to me, handed me back my license, smiled broadly and said in the happiest tone, "Good choice. Have a nice day!"<br />I don't know about you, but it struck me a rather bizarre return interview.Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-42296609191500696172024-03-17T07:00:00.004-04:002024-03-17T07:01:15.294-04:00St. Patrick's Day<p>Happy St. Patrick's Day! Get your Irish on. Listen to a few reels, dance a few jigs, and easy on the Guinness and the Jameson's.</p><p>Irish music really is good you know. Not just the sing alongs, but the reels too. And other than Danny Boy, they tend to be happy. But I suppose there has to be one cry in your beer song. </p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-798410693783486252024-03-16T06:23:00.002-04:002024-03-16T06:23:15.759-04:00Date Mongering<p>Yes, it's fun. But like with so many other fun things, it gets into overkill all too quickly.</p><p>This week alone we had Pi Day, March 14, or 3.14. An obvious math pun, following an entire day after 313 Day, March 13, celebrated (if you can call it that) in Detroit because our area code is 313. And everybody knows May 4, or May Fourth, as Star Wars Day. Our own dear Upper Peninsula likes September 6, or 906, since that's da UP's area code. </p><p>I'm sure more will be coming out of the woodwork, because that's exactly how these things work. Anyone busy 824? I hear it'll be a blast.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-56696238126639495072024-03-15T05:00:00.001-04:002024-03-15T05:00:00.156-04:00Death Comes Knocking<p>There was an old woman who used to live down the street, I'll call her Mrs. Cloyce just to give her a name, who regularly bugged me brother Phil for help. Now, I'm all for helping someone in need, especially the elderly. Phil is too. Yet Mrs. Cloyce had become extreme in asking for favors. It had become constant.</p><p>I don't recall details, only that the bulk of it was nonsense yet difficult stuff which me brother dreaded. He came to loathe seeing Mrs. Cloyce come up the walk.</p><p>She began to catch onto that, though. One day after asking Phil for yet another pesky favor Mrs. Cloyce opined, "I bet you'd rather see Death come along than me, ha ha!"</p><p>'You aren't far off', thought Phil to himself. Then he went on and helped the old woman.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-31746321968358587252024-03-14T05:30:00.005-04:002024-03-14T10:33:38.362-04:00Feelings<p>I think one of the biggest mistakes we make today is the emphasis on feelings over reason. We ignore that feelings cannot be measured, but reason can.</p><p>I cannot know the intensity or trustworthiness of what you feel, nor you, me. We simply feel what we feel; in that sense mere feelings are amoral. We can't judge them. They just are what they are.</p><p>Yet we can judge reason through logic. We can look at how others act and make judgments for or against it. You might feel justified in lifting that hundred from your brother's wallet, but I can still assert quite rightly that you're stealing. Perhaps you, ahem, feel he owes it to you. Well then, make your case, that I might be able to see that you have one. Yet if all you've got is the feeling you deserved that Franklin, you need to give it back and seek forgiveness. </p><p>I believe our modern progressive friends trumpet feelings over reason exactly because feelings left to themselves avoid larceny and any other violations of right, wrong, or general propriety. They want to feel however they want to feel and act on that without recrimination.</p><p>Just don't tell them how you feel about that. Yes, I'm being snarky.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-24867480217234740212024-03-13T08:41:00.006-04:002024-03-13T14:39:27.038-04:00It Isn't About Science After All<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;">I am totally ripping off my son's response to a blog I wrote awhile back, lamenting that progressives 'worship' science, because I find his response more apt. Science, or more appropriately scientism, is another tool to alter society and nothing more. The original post is <a href="https://thesublimetotheridiculous.blogspot.com/2016/02/praying-at-altar-of-science.html">here</a> if you care to reference it.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><i>I agree with your post, but I'm also starting to come to a new conclusion: "science" was only a front, and there are no true science worshipers. Certain people found that "science" would allow them to try to discredit religion (at least in their minds). Evolution? No God! Heliocentrism shows the Sun at the center of the Solar System; therefore the Catholic Church is flawed, and nothing else it says is right!</i></span></p><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;">But now we have moved beyond that, and the idea of science as the worshiping altar is pushed aside because it no longer benefits the current theology (the theology of "Me" or "I Want" or something along those lines). Science teaches us that a biological man is a biological man, and nothing, even the most serious of drug regimens and barbarous body alterations, actually changes that at its core. *Science* tells us that, but we conveniently ignore it. Science teaches us that babies in the womb can think, hear, feel, react, and have emotions (the same emotions we trump as the end-all in today's world), but again we ignore our centuries-old, stalwart champion.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif;">And so I'm increasing convinced that finding an ultimate truth in science was never really the goal, and it was a mere tool to attain unscientific-but-desired ends. They don't believe in science as the end-all, and now science is merely becoming another battered, broken body in their wake. It's just another flimsy attempt to justify the whims of current modern desires.</span></i>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-81873223904801732062024-03-12T05:00:00.004-04:002024-03-12T07:22:57.190-04:00On The Bayou<p>Jambalaya. I hadn't had it in ages. Truth is, I only had it once, probably twenty years ago. It was at an event at the Detroit Historical Museum. Why they were hosting an event featuring Cajun foods (or why I was even there) is lost within the misty halls of my memory.</p><p>Anyway, they had jambalaya and it was good. A tad on the spicy side, but that's fine. But the bottom line truth is that I hadn't thought a lot about it until yesterday.</p><p>It was close to Noon, and all I wanted was something different for lunch. For no better reason that to seek that something, I found myself trolling the aisles of the local supermarket. In the freezer section I stumbled onto single serve microwavable bowls of jambalaya. So I bought one. Why not? If I didn't care for it I was only out $3.79, much less than a fast food lunch these days.</p><p>Wow. I'm happy I did. It was rice and okra with pork and smoked sausage and a couple of other vegetables all mixed into a light sauce and boy, was that good. I do believe jambalaya is back on my radar. Of course that old <a href="Jambalaya. I hadn't had it in ages. Truth is, I only had it once, probably twenty years ago. It was at an event at the Detroit Historical Museum. Why they were hosting an event featuring Cajun foods (or why I was even there) is lost within the misty halls of my memory. Anyway, they had jambalaya and it was good. A tad on the spicy side, but that's fine. But the bottom line truth is that I hadn't though a lot about it until yesterday. It was close to Noon, and all I wanted was something different for lunch. For no better reason that to seek that something, I found myself trolling the aisles of the local supermarket. In the freezer section I stumbled onto single serve microwavable bowls of jambalaya. So I bought one. Why not? If I didn't care for it I was only out $3.79, much less than a fast food lunch these days. Wow. I'm happy I did. It was rice and okra with pork and smoked sausage and a couple of other vegetables all mixed into a light sauce and boy, was that good. I do believe jambalaya is back on my radar. Of course that old song is now my earworm too, but I can live with. It's a good song. ">Hank Williams</a> song is now my earworm, but I can live with that. It's a good song. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-19327344958260304192024-03-11T08:49:00.002-04:002024-03-11T08:49:31.742-04:00Hand Hold<p> Sherman used to clean drains. That means that we saw him a lot back in the day; he worked until about 1990. Sherman also used to preface every sentence with the word, see. 'See, I'm doing fine,' he would answer when you asked how he was.</p><p>One morning Pops was welding an end on Sherman's cable. When Dad finished he noticed Sherman reaching for the cable as he turned off the welder. "Don't touch that, it's hot!" he warned.</p><p>"See, I know it's hot," Sherman answered.</p><p>A minute later Dad heard him yelp. He turned to see Sherman rubbing his hand; he had grabbed the hot cable full palm. "Sherman, I just told you that was hot!" Dad admonished him.</p><p>"See, I didn't know it was that hot."</p><p>Pops went and got the burn ointment from our first aid kit. Squeezing some out of the tube onto the wound, Dad said as Sherman worked the goo into his palm, "Are you going to be okay?"</p><p>"See, I'll be fine, Bill. See, I didn't burn it that bad. See, I didn't hold it very long."</p><p>I imagine not. </p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-88974215490755360452024-03-10T07:50:00.003-04:002024-03-10T11:06:47.893-04:00In Knots<p>I mentioned yesterday that in the curling bonspiel Friday we won one game and tied the other. Let me tell you, that second game was as tied as tied could be.</p><p>The final curling score was 4 - 4. Each team won four ends (ends are the rough equivalent of baseball innings). A single point was scored in each end. Both teams stole an end (a steal in curling is when you score at a least one point without 'hammer' or the last shot of an end) and each scored only one point in the three other ends that they had the hammer. Each team scored the same amount of points in the system used for determining the overall winner of a short bonspiel: 10 points per team for the tie, and one point for each end won for four points apiece, a total of 14 points (1/4 points are allowed for score differential, but we didn't have that). So we also tied the tiebreaker score 14 - 14. And incidentally, although we won our first game our opponents tied their other match.</p><p>I can't see how it could have been more tied.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-20224837779493249962024-03-09T06:27:00.003-05:002024-03-09T09:08:33.995-05:00That Laugh<p>All right now, I'm beginning to grow paranoid. Well, more paranoid, or paranoid in another direction, but that's beside the point.</p><p>Remember <a href="https://thesublimetotheridiculous.blogspot.com/2024/01/the-best-medicine.html">this</a> and <a href="https://thesublimetotheridiculous.blogspot.com/2024/02/the-voice.html">this</a> blog post from not that long ago? I explained how I have been told that I have a distinct voice and laugh which makes me memorable. Well, it's happened again.</p><p>I played in a curling tournament in Chatham, Ontario yesterday. I haven't been in the Chatham Granite Club in 6 or 7 years. We placed second with a win and a tie. Beyond that, I had a local come up to me and say, "Good to see you again, Marty! I heard that laugh and knew you were back."</p><p>As I've said before, it's great to be recognized and remembered. I suppose I am happy that I can make that much of a (hopefully positive) impression on folks. Still, it can cause a guy to be self conscious. </p><p>Will it stop me? Nah. Might as well be known for something.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-9138213064706726862024-03-08T04:38:00.007-05:002024-03-08T04:38:58.603-05:00Frydays<p>I might have one of them fish sandwiches from that roast beef place today. Arby's makes a great fish sandwich during Lent, which shows that Catholics still have some pull in our consumerist economy.</p><p>It really is good fish, deep fried and crispy. And big: those things are huge. Yep, I think I'll have one today.</p><p>I only wish I hadn't thought of it at 4:30 in the morning.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-86272967635743388692024-03-07T08:36:00.003-05:002024-03-07T08:37:40.465-05:00Numbers Up<p>After all these years of having Internet at home (around 30 I would guess) I still haven't gotten into the habit of the Internet as a go to. This after many successful forays onto it for truly useful things and ideas (and a lot of time wasting). It may be information overload in a lot of ways, but there's good things out there.</p><p>I've struggled for months - <i>months</i> - trying to figure out the simple task of adding page numbers to my books, so that I might set them up on Amazon by my lonesome (those writings of mine available were not configured by me). I think it's a talent I need to acquire if I'm to write and look professional. But for a half year or better I simply could not get page numbers added to my new books.</p><p>This past Monday a thought hit me: are there numbered book templates I might find online? A quick web search for free book templates brought me such a thing in seconds - <i>seconds</i> - and a simple copy and paste along with a few formatting corrections gave me a fully set up book in about an hour. I was happy, yet I felt stupid that I hadn't thought of that before.</p><p>The Internet is your friend. If you focus on how it actually helps you.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-9467400198553090472024-03-06T03:39:00.000-05:002024-03-06T03:39:54.464-05:00Being an Adult<p>Being an adult means having a conscience, right? Well thanks to that, I didn't curl this past Monday.</p><p>I had been fighting a cold of some sort all weekend. I felt bad on Saturday and really bad on Sunday. Yet by Monday I was coming out of it. I had graduated to feeling 'all right', though weak, still coughing, and with plugged sinuses. But I was going to curl. Yep, I was gonna.</p><p>Then along about Noon that voice in my head began taunting. Basically, it was saying if ya don't work ya can't play. I had left the old barn early to rest up for the curling match. But, Marty, if you're too sick to work you're too sick to play. I called me Skip and apologized I wouldn't make it.</p><p>Darn conscience. I suppose I shouldn't want to spread illness anyway.</p><p>Yeah, let's go with that. It sounds better.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-91643406131888384442024-03-05T08:09:00.005-05:002024-03-05T13:06:33.489-05:00I Get It<p>I caught a few minutes of yesterday's Spring Training game between the Detroit Tigers and the Boston Red Sox from Lakeland, Florida. The Detroits have spring training in Lakeland. The Lakeland Flying Tigers are a minor league affiliate of their parent club. Their mascot is a tiger named Southpaws.</p><p>That tickles me on a couple levels. One, the actual Detroit Tigers mascot is a tiger called Paws. So it makes sense for a team affiliate from Florida, well south of Detroit, to be called Southpaws. Plus, it's a reference to baseball lore. Southpaws are left handed pitchers, because the original tendencies were to have ballparks set up so that batters faced east. Pitchers thus faced west when on the mound, placing their left arms on the south side of their bodies. Southpaws.</p><p>So we have Paws and Southpaws. I like it.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-7772532377658264832024-03-04T02:54:00.007-05:002024-03-04T02:54:52.943-05:00Night Watch<p>It is 2:50 AM as I write. I've been scrolling the Internet looking for nothing in particular, and I found it. An article I just finished claims that we are most likely to die overnight between 3 and 4 in the morning because that's when our bodies are weakest.</p><p>It's going to be a long hour, having read that.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-27081466681252426932024-03-03T07:20:00.002-05:002024-03-03T07:20:52.397-05:00Levanrd <p>About 20 miles out of Detroit on I-96 is Levan Road. The sign for the exit says Levan Rd. There's nothing unusual about that, is there?</p><p>Years ago me Grandpa Joe had a delivery driver, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who was a little slow on the uptake. Me Pops one day sent him out with a load of welding equipment intended for a place off Levan in western Wayne County.</p><p>About three hours after the scheduled delivery time, the company called asking where it was. This was the time before cell phones, so there was no easy way to track Cloyce. Dad had to wait to hear from him for an explanation.</p><p>Cloyce happened to walk into the old barn about ten minutes later anyway. "I couldn't make that delivery, Bill," he said.</p><p>"Why not? Pops demanded. "I wrote out exact directions." Surely the old man did, knowing Cloyce.</p><p>"Well, Bill, I drove all the way out past Ann Arbor (easily 40 miles beyond target) and I could not find Levanrd." Apparently Dad wrote the abbreviation for road too close to Levan.</p><p>With a heavy sigh Dad more precisely explained himself and sent Cloyce back out.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-25390850786026139652024-03-02T06:01:00.001-05:002024-03-02T06:01:05.892-05:00Saturday SillinessThe big trouble with seasickness? It comes in waves.<div><br /></div><div>I once suffered from hypochondria. Placebos cured me.</div><div><br /></div><div>My wife insists she isn't putting glue on my firearms. But I'm sticking to my guns.</div><div><br /></div><div>From Groucho Marx: I was married by a judge. I should have asked for a jury.</div><div><br /></div><div>I failed math class more times than I can count.</div><div><br /></div><div>Russian dolls are just full of themselves.</div><div><br /></div><div>Have you noticed that despite the high cost of living, it remains popular? </div><div><br /></div><div>I'll show myself out now...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-85456440468847918062024-03-01T03:36:00.001-05:002024-03-01T03:38:02.676-05:00Feeding Time<p>As a salesman, I keep an eye out for trends. For whatever reason, certain things sell at certain times, others at other times, and sometimes things simply come into demand out of the blue.</p><p>There is an accessory for the Electric Eel (Electric Eel: for all your drain cleaning needs!) called a feeding tool. It helps 'feed' the steel cable into a pipeline. You get one with every Model C machine purchase. Yet I've never actually sold many of them piecemeal. Indeed I had sold so few that I quit stocking them. Then one random day a random guy asked for one, and I ordered two. One for him, one for stock because, well, why not?</p><p>The gentleman picked his up and the other sold soon thereafter. I ordered two more.</p><p>Those sold in a New York minute. I ordered two more, which likewise moved out of the old barn in haste. So, methinks, there appears a trend hath developed. Yon feeding tool be in demand. I ordered six. Last May.</p><p>If you need a second guess how many I still have in stock today, March 1, 2024, you are denser than granite. I guess trends work in both directions.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-90903697042168924302024-02-29T05:00:00.002-05:002024-03-01T08:08:11.954-05:00Back in the Saddle<p>Yesterday my team curled in the Senior Bonspiel at the Bowling Green Curling Club in Ohio. It's a good club and a fun place to be. We went 1-1, finishing fifth. I skipped the second game and we got some breaks and the boys played good in front of me. We won it, 10-5.</p><p>It's the first game I've played skip in around 7 years. I don't mind saying I was intimidated by the prospect. I threw last rocks almost all the time for around twenty years, but you need a different mentality for being skip. You have to want it, you have to want to throw the rocks which generally mean the most to the outcome of a curling match. </p><p>But as I said, we caught a couple breaks and the boys played well in front of me. I did manage to shoot a tight port to punch out a stone to score four. We still had time to play, but I knew with that four spot we would win.</p><p>It felt good. Yes, the shot, but being skip again really made my day. I appreciate the guys letting me. I've said many times that curling is a great game, but it's the people who are the best.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-35344892085442143042024-02-27T05:00:00.013-05:002024-02-27T16:06:04.739-05:00It's All Right to be Sentimental<p>I don't mean this to be at all melancholy, although it certainly is sentimental and perhaps a bit wistful.</p><p>When they were toddlers I can remember my kids rushing to the living room window to wave bye to me whenever I went somewhere. In my mind's eye I can actually see each of them in that front window, waving frantically as little tykes do.</p><p>Yesterday coming home from Newark Ohio as my oldest son was on his way to work, he slowed down on his exit from the local freeway to allow me to quickly catch up so that we might wave at each other as our trails separated. Last September as I turned out of the parking lot of the diner where my second son and I had had breakfast in Stamford, Connecticut, as I began my journey back to Detroit, I saw him watching my car as I left. We shared a wave.</p><p>Not quite the little blond and redheaded boys of 40 years ago. But still a treat for a Dad.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-88892020782762278622024-02-25T08:17:00.005-05:002024-02-25T08:20:01.371-05:00Time Zones<p>As I spoke of yesterday, me son Charlie and I watched live wrestling. It turns out that the show was in Perth, in Western Australia. It was late afternoon there as it was early morning here.</p><p>We don't often think about how big this world can be. He we were, my son and I, in the early morning hours of a Saturday in the eastern United States, and there they were in the dying embers of Sunday. As the Sun was literally rising here it was setting there. They were closer to Monday while we had only left Friday six hours behind us.</p><p>Maybe it isn't that big a deal. But it seems so to me. It's an interesting feeling, almost like awe. We ought to feel more of that in life.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-10632684590333212742024-02-24T05:31:00.001-05:002024-02-24T05:31:13.966-05:00Ringside Seats<p>What do you do at 5 O'clock in the morning in central Ohio on a late February Saturday morning? Why, watch pay per view wresting live...from Australia.</p><p>Yep, that's just what me and me son Charlie are doing. It's tomorrow afternoon in the land down under, because of the International Date Line or something like that. I believe Australia is 19 hours ahead of us, so while it's today here it's tomorrow there. Mind blowing.</p><p>Charlie bought a pizza, which is cooking in the oven right now. As we eat that means I'll get to ask, for the first time in my life, "Is this delivery?"</p><p>Get it?</p><p>Anyway, there are worse ways to spend Saturday mornings. I know. I've experienced them.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-25085722611651794742024-02-23T08:57:00.003-05:002024-02-23T08:57:27.541-05:00He'll Help Anybody<p>We Catholics know that when you can't find something you pray to St. Anthony for help. I did that just yesterday in fact and promptly found what I had misplaced. It truly works.</p><p>Several years ago one my aunts, a sister of me Mom's (that's typical of how someone becomes your aunt) lost something important. Mom's side of the family is overwhelmingly Protestant whereas Mom converted to Catholicism after she married me Pops. That's important to know only because you won't appreciate the story otherwise.</p><p>Mom suggested her sister pray to St. Anthony. In fact my aunt's exact prayer was, "St. Anthony, I don't know you but my sister does. Please help me find what I'm looking for." Lo and behold, she found it in the next few minutes.</p><p>Few things are more powerful than sincere prayer, eh? It knows no denomination.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-12730983693016225022024-02-22T01:00:00.001-05:002024-02-22T01:00:00.139-05:00Serendipity, Maybe<p>I try to stay on top of the oil changes in my vans. It's only common sense, of course, and why burn out a motor even in an old yet otherwise good vehicle for the want of staying on top of the fluids?</p><p>Yet how many of us are ever actually smack dab right on time when seeing to the chore? We'll be within a few miles typically, right? While I knew that my newer old van needed service somewhere in 214,000 mile bracket I wasn't sure of the precise mileage when that would be. As I pulled into the oil change place I frequent I was at 214,444 miles. And I was exactly at the recommended change spot.</p><p>That'll never happen again. It surely never happened before either.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-555454760865757695.post-36775085671880683162024-02-21T09:03:00.002-05:002024-02-21T09:03:33.517-05:00High School Reunions<p>One day back in 2003, me Pops, me self, and me son Charlie sat at the office in the Shop, drinking coffee. Hey, it was a well deserved break. We'd been working hard that day.</p><p>Anyway, for whatever reason me Pops was staring up at the calendar on the wall. He observed, "Man, time flies. I have my fiftieth high school reunion coming up."</p><p>Curious myself about mine after that I did some quick math and said, "Yeah, really. Looks like my twenty-fifth is next year." </p><p>As a little smarmy smile grew on his face, me son Charlie remarked, "I'm coming up on my second."</p><p>Touche, boy. Touche.</p>Charles Martin Cosgriffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08589092893909553990noreply@blogger.com0