Quick post, as I am on my way to bed.
Went for a hike (ok really just a walk) this weekend. Was going to write about it, but Lori beat me to it. Here is a link to her post about it.
The random R:
It may not be news to you, but people here talk a little different than most of us. The most fascinating thing about New England accents is what I call the Random R. It is random, because there are no rules that I can figure out. Smarter people might be able to decipher the code, but not me.
For instance, they remove most of the "R's" from the end of words and many from the middle of words. The become long H sounding things.
Car = Cahh
Yard = Yahhd
They even take the R out of hamburger, which is Hamburg
There are many other examples, but I am sure you know what I mean. The thing that surprised me though is when I realized that they were taking those "R's" and randomly inserting them elsewhere.
Spatula = Spatuler
Idea = Idear
Wash = Warsh
Not everybody here talks like this, but I get to smile several times a week as I hear one of the true New Englander's speak. I did notice that the dropping of the "R's" happens more often than the adding of the "R's." Do you think they send the extras to Spanish speaking countries so that they have enough "R's" to roll?
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Sugar on snow & times, they are a changin
Sister Lori, nephew Jadon and I went to Putnam Brothers Sugar House last weekend. I am in a different time zone now, so by law I had to wait until now to post this.
While I was there I learned all sorts of New Englandy terms about how to make Maple Syrup that I have already forgotten. The essentials though are that they no longer use buckets on the side of a tree like the picture below shows. They now use miles of plastic tubing, which feed in to big vats. I was able to see the raw sap flow in to a vat. It is then brought in to a something that draws out moisture and in to another machine that boils it. Fancy physics involved there, really there is.
I was able to sip what the nice syrup guy called "the good stuff." Don't worry, I did not get drunk off of it, but it was a warm sweet shot glass of freshly made maple syrup. It beats Mrs. Butterfield any day of the week.
Jadon and I then had Sugar on Snow. They take pure maple syrup and pour it on snow (or in this case crushed ice). You then consume this with a fork; my sister taught me to swirl it like spaghetti, delicious. I have taken part in a great New England tradition, so I guess I have to start talking funny.
Time:
I have not worn a watch for years. I have used my cell phone in order to keep track of time. In fact, I callously referred to watch wearers as "old people." Well, I have repented of my mean ways. I now wear a watch every day to work. I cannot have my cell phone in prison. Apparently people in prison have been known to get a hold of them and misuse them, go figure. Here is the big change; I forgot my watch yesterday and looked at my empty wrist about 15 times. Times, they are a changin.
While I was there I learned all sorts of New Englandy terms about how to make Maple Syrup that I have already forgotten. The essentials though are that they no longer use buckets on the side of a tree like the picture below shows. They now use miles of plastic tubing, which feed in to big vats. I was able to see the raw sap flow in to a vat. It is then brought in to a something that draws out moisture and in to another machine that boils it. Fancy physics involved there, really there is.
I was able to sip what the nice syrup guy called "the good stuff." Don't worry, I did not get drunk off of it, but it was a warm sweet shot glass of freshly made maple syrup. It beats Mrs. Butterfield any day of the week.
Jadon and I then had Sugar on Snow. They take pure maple syrup and pour it on snow (or in this case crushed ice). You then consume this with a fork; my sister taught me to swirl it like spaghetti, delicious. I have taken part in a great New England tradition, so I guess I have to start talking funny.
Time:
I have not worn a watch for years. I have used my cell phone in order to keep track of time. In fact, I callously referred to watch wearers as "old people." Well, I have repented of my mean ways. I now wear a watch every day to work. I cannot have my cell phone in prison. Apparently people in prison have been known to get a hold of them and misuse them, go figure. Here is the big change; I forgot my watch yesterday and looked at my empty wrist about 15 times. Times, they are a changin.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Country Music and pants
Most people who know me know that I love the Blues. In my twisted brain the Blues are a great reminder of how painful life is, which always keeps me focused on eternal things instead of temporary things.
Don't try to make sense of it, just accept it.
But this post is about Country music. I cannot listen to Blues in my car. The Upper Valley inexplicably does not have a blues radio station and my car's CD player does not work (yes all the cool local people call this area "the upper valley"). I listen to Country Music while in the car.
I have had an "on again, off again" relationship with Country music over the years and Karen and I would often listen to it at home. Apparently the people of the Upper Valley appreciate Country music more than the Blues because I can get 4 country music stations on my car radio.
Unlike the Blues, Country music is depressing.
I can do fine with songs of sorrow and woe. The country music songs that talk about getting done wrong, being broke, and "my baby left me" are just fine. That it like the Blues with a different tune. It is all the stinking love songs that are killing me.
When your wife and daughters are 3000 miles away, try this on for size:
Or how about:
Country Music is depressing. Give me some Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson or BB King please.
Pants:
For the last 24 years I have worn Jeans to work almost every day. Part of the joy of Spring Hills Community Church is that even the pastors do not have to get all dressed up. In my private practice I was the boss. The boss said that I could wear jeans. Sometimes I would go all high class and wear black jeans, but unless it was a funeral or wedding I was in denim.
I cannot wear jeans to work anymore. I don't have to dress up all the way (no ties) but I cannot wear jeans.
The adjustment has not been as bad as I thought. I found some inexpensive business casual trousers (don't you just love that word) at Walmart that are comfortable, and I barely notice the difference.
The only problem is what is missing in the front right pocket of my pants. Ever since I got out of high school I have had a knife in my pocket every day, everywhere I went except for planes and courthouses.
For some reason they don't think I should have that inside of a maximum security state prison. So I wearing high class new pants every day but I feel naked. My knife is the first thing I grab when I get home, then I go look for something that needs opening.
Don't try to make sense of it, just accept it.
But this post is about Country music. I cannot listen to Blues in my car. The Upper Valley inexplicably does not have a blues radio station and my car's CD player does not work (yes all the cool local people call this area "the upper valley"). I listen to Country Music while in the car.
I have had an "on again, off again" relationship with Country music over the years and Karen and I would often listen to it at home. Apparently the people of the Upper Valley appreciate Country music more than the Blues because I can get 4 country music stations on my car radio.
Unlike the Blues, Country music is depressing.
I can do fine with songs of sorrow and woe. The country music songs that talk about getting done wrong, being broke, and "my baby left me" are just fine. That it like the Blues with a different tune. It is all the stinking love songs that are killing me.
When your wife and daughters are 3000 miles away, try this on for size:
Got a baby girl sleepin' in my bedroomThanks a whole stinking lot Darius Rucker
And her momma laughing in my arms ...
Every stoplight I didnt make
Every chance I did or I didnt take
All the nights I went too far
All the girls that broke my heart
All the doors that I had to close
All the things I knew but I didn't know
Thank god for all I missed
Cause it led me here to this (meaning his relationship with his wife)
Or how about:
So, we planned it all out for the middle of JuneShut up Thompson Square.
From the wedding cake to the honeymoon
And your momma cried when you walked down the aisle
When the preacher man said say I Do
I did, and you did, too
Then I lifted that veil and saw your pretty smile
And I said...
Are you gonna kiss me or not
Are we gonna do this or what
Look at all the love that we've got
And it ain't never gonna stop
Are you gonna kiss me or not
Country Music is depressing. Give me some Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson or BB King please.
Pants:
For the last 24 years I have worn Jeans to work almost every day. Part of the joy of Spring Hills Community Church is that even the pastors do not have to get all dressed up. In my private practice I was the boss. The boss said that I could wear jeans. Sometimes I would go all high class and wear black jeans, but unless it was a funeral or wedding I was in denim.
I cannot wear jeans to work anymore. I don't have to dress up all the way (no ties) but I cannot wear jeans.
The adjustment has not been as bad as I thought. I found some inexpensive business casual trousers (don't you just love that word) at Walmart that are comfortable, and I barely notice the difference.
The only problem is what is missing in the front right pocket of my pants. Ever since I got out of high school I have had a knife in my pocket every day, everywhere I went except for planes and courthouses.
For some reason they don't think I should have that inside of a maximum security state prison. So I wearing high class new pants every day but I feel naked. My knife is the first thing I grab when I get home, then I go look for something that needs opening.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
40 hours and Blue Walls
One of the things that has been odd but nice is the length of my work week. When I first interviewed for the job the boss told me almost apologetically, "Now I want you to understand, it is only a 40 hour work week. You wont be able to get any overtime. You have to stop after 40 hours."
I was glad to hear this because I moved in order to start a church, and this job (whether I do it for 2 years or 20 years) is mainly a rewarding way to pay the bills while I do what I came for. I am enjoying the job very much, but I would not have taken it if I was expected to work much more than 40 hours.
But now that I am doing it, working only 40 hours is very strange. I have been either a salaried employee and/or self employed for over 20 years. There have been times that I worked about 60 hours a week in addition to being on an electronic leash at only one job. For the last 5 years I have worked at two jobs and I have worked 6 days a week for most of the last 10 years. Thankfully I loved both my job at church and my private practice in Santa Rosa.
Working 40 hours a week almost feel like cheating. It is like a working vacation, but what kind of idiot takes a 15 week vacation without his beautiful girls!
I guess I expected the 40 hours thing to be approximate. I expected that I would work until the job is done, but simply aim for 40 hours a week. I was wrong.
When Friday comes we have to know what we actually worked that week and leave early rather than even work 1 hour of overtime.
I will probably be leaving early every Friday.
Blue Walls: I saw something when I first arrived here, but noticed it again when I was traveling upstate for some training last week. On the side of the highways I often see thick ice formations cascading down the sides of mountains. These formations are right at the side of the road and are a so thick that they are a beautiful shade of blue. I do not have a picture to share. You can get away with a lot in the "Live Free or Die" state, but I do not think using my freedom to die by taking a picture while driving down the freeway is a great idea.
I was glad to hear this because I moved in order to start a church, and this job (whether I do it for 2 years or 20 years) is mainly a rewarding way to pay the bills while I do what I came for. I am enjoying the job very much, but I would not have taken it if I was expected to work much more than 40 hours.
But now that I am doing it, working only 40 hours is very strange. I have been either a salaried employee and/or self employed for over 20 years. There have been times that I worked about 60 hours a week in addition to being on an electronic leash at only one job. For the last 5 years I have worked at two jobs and I have worked 6 days a week for most of the last 10 years. Thankfully I loved both my job at church and my private practice in Santa Rosa.
Working 40 hours a week almost feel like cheating. It is like a working vacation, but what kind of idiot takes a 15 week vacation without his beautiful girls!
I guess I expected the 40 hours thing to be approximate. I expected that I would work until the job is done, but simply aim for 40 hours a week. I was wrong.
When Friday comes we have to know what we actually worked that week and leave early rather than even work 1 hour of overtime.
I will probably be leaving early every Friday.
Blue Walls: I saw something when I first arrived here, but noticed it again when I was traveling upstate for some training last week. On the side of the highways I often see thick ice formations cascading down the sides of mountains. These formations are right at the side of the road and are a so thick that they are a beautiful shade of blue. I do not have a picture to share. You can get away with a lot in the "Live Free or Die" state, but I do not think using my freedom to die by taking a picture while driving down the freeway is a great idea.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
First "Church service" ... and my new friend
We had our first "Church Service" this week.
Sort of.
I decided to begin a small family devotion time for me and the 4 family members we already have out here. I am still working on the strategy for starting the new church, but they have not had a church to go to for a while and I wanted us to have something.
It was more like a small group than a church service, but we all got a lot out of it. I started off with the following questions (which I put on pieces of paper in a cowboy hat). We all answered two of them, with everybody else getting to add there own answers if they wanted to.
The time I felt closest to God was…
The time I felt the farthest from God was…
If I could ask God one question it would be…
I feel encouraged when…
My favorite book/verse/story from the Bible is…
My least favorite book/verse/story from the Bible is…
I feel discouraged when…
The kind of person in Charlestown that I can’t wait to see in our church is…
The kinds of person in Charlestown that will be hard for me to have in our new church is…
My favorite way to express my worship to God is...
We then went on to talk read about the first passover from Exodus, the Last supper from Luke, and we had communion.
It was a sweet beginning. We will likely invite other people to join us in the coming weeks, and might move it to Saturday evenings. We will see how it all pans out.
Now for my new friend. Here is his picture:
For those of you who have never been out of Santa Rosa, he is a snow brush and ice scraper combo. Very handy guy to have around.
By the way, did you know that you can get a ticket for driving with several inches of snow on your roof? I don't know from experience, but I have seen the reason for this first hand. I saw a guy put on his breaks a little at an intersection and all of the snow on his roof cascaded down on to his windshield. He was totally blinded for a bit. This can happen to a car in back of you when you step on the gas too.
Mr Snow brush is indeed a good friend.
Sort of.
I decided to begin a small family devotion time for me and the 4 family members we already have out here. I am still working on the strategy for starting the new church, but they have not had a church to go to for a while and I wanted us to have something.
It was more like a small group than a church service, but we all got a lot out of it. I started off with the following questions (which I put on pieces of paper in a cowboy hat). We all answered two of them, with everybody else getting to add there own answers if they wanted to.
The time I felt closest to God was…
The time I felt the farthest from God was…
If I could ask God one question it would be…
I feel encouraged when…
My favorite book/verse/story from the Bible is…
My least favorite book/verse/story from the Bible is…
I feel discouraged when…
The kind of person in Charlestown that I can’t wait to see in our church is…
The kinds of person in Charlestown that will be hard for me to have in our new church is…
My favorite way to express my worship to God is...
We then went on to talk read about the first passover from Exodus, the Last supper from Luke, and we had communion.
It was a sweet beginning. We will likely invite other people to join us in the coming weeks, and might move it to Saturday evenings. We will see how it all pans out.
Now for my new friend. Here is his picture:
For those of you who have never been out of Santa Rosa, he is a snow brush and ice scraper combo. Very handy guy to have around.
By the way, did you know that you can get a ticket for driving with several inches of snow on your roof? I don't know from experience, but I have seen the reason for this first hand. I saw a guy put on his breaks a little at an intersection and all of the snow on his roof cascaded down on to his windshield. He was totally blinded for a bit. This can happen to a car in back of you when you step on the gas too.
Mr Snow brush is indeed a good friend.
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