tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58777877483631327912024-03-14T03:37:10.174-07:00Brian's BrainRandom thoughts from a Random person.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-52988103780067551152014-01-29T14:22:00.003-08:002014-01-29T14:22:43.843-08:00Main Things?Stephen Covey has said that, <i><b>"The main thing is to keep the main thing the win thing"</b></i>. I often find myself knowing what the "main thing" is, but get distracted trying to figure out how to get the "<b><i>main thing</i></b>" done. Soon I am caught up in the process trying to remember why I am doing what I am doing.<br />
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The challenge from The Bible to all believers is to "<b><i>go and make disciples</i></b>". I think we, too often, spend time and effort creating programs and theories to do that, but then we soon forget the "main thing" - making disciples - and spend all our time and effort keeping the program running that was created to make disciples.<br />
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Make sense?Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-34989301390706112822014-01-26T22:55:00.000-08:002014-01-26T22:55:51.615-08:00Becoming a Church of ExcellenceOne of the misconceptions about the idea of becoming a Church of Excellence is that it has to be perfect. Wrong! Perfectionist have the idea that nothing is ever good enough. Nothing is ever completed because, "there's got to be a better way, a faster way, a cheaper way, etc." Well I'm here to tell you that God wants souls to turn to Him. Excellence is us giving our best with what we have. People's changed hearts is the goal!Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-88504905679057664632010-12-02T14:25:00.001-08:002010-12-02T14:31:22.515-08:00Smart BirdsHmmm - What can I learn from them?<div><br /><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEeVJHTtCpL0r1orvLZE7uYcsY1vWUPz6mf0VTlAssoGrol-DHH4YLl6LXz60HpmW0eIhpds31QKYoErH6M0SZAiKvB-sfX5VhR-Z9QAFNk6YbwT4fA3L1tY0LAARvFS9OPs3JXNTf7D8/s320/Eagle.jpg" style="text-align: center;float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 222px; " border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546215025882184098" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyRZfOcsJsmks1dF5tCFN6DHubZFdNJcubPVdMKOXIdysTAgDevbhGl4ehSInvbU6Ctg99A-xkxneaAMI49l1KECkKr0eFxQBmMd_pKgYl1Lc7_CRG37UshTSG6t9jveAekpDhU3izEY/s1600/Owl+2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimyRZfOcsJsmks1dF5tCFN6DHubZFdNJcubPVdMKOXIdysTAgDevbhGl4ehSInvbU6Ctg99A-xkxneaAMI49l1KECkKr0eFxQBmMd_pKgYl1Lc7_CRG37UshTSG6t9jveAekpDhU3izEY/s320/Owl+2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546214915062116802" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A lot!</div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-3556909256223575072010-10-30T10:24:00.000-07:002010-10-30T10:33:22.405-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6mdkFl1H_gGqjUJwkTOPEcetHU75kxt57frzZwzgnD8tN14Dnrs0iwyl-Ad_ECq_lSy0RBHyesxm5iAeIaggocSoNo5seiqFpSn7_yeKIdOv5JqcNF-kWkJSUzB-oi0sdViDl80vac20/s1600/IMG_0009.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6mdkFl1H_gGqjUJwkTOPEcetHU75kxt57frzZwzgnD8tN14Dnrs0iwyl-Ad_ECq_lSy0RBHyesxm5iAeIaggocSoNo5seiqFpSn7_yeKIdOv5JqcNF-kWkJSUzB-oi0sdViDl80vac20/s320/IMG_0009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533891913737787394" /></a>Sometimes I wish I could ask God to 'STOP' time for just a while. But then again, what would 'a while' mean if time was stopped.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-24089305639248218352010-09-06T19:36:00.001-07:002010-09-06T19:54:05.458-07:00Just a quiet walk in the park.<div>Tonight Millie invited me to join her for her evening walk around Lake Murray. I thought she meant that it would be a great time for us to be alone and talk (as married couples need every so often). I should have known, when she got her headphones out and flipped her iPod to the sound track of Top Gun, that I might be in trouble.</div><div><br /></div><div>We walked together for about twenty yards and then she was gone.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Y2vK1ggXyqRBjvAWnT7y8bEdb0-YY_gzpbMdw2qrtgwgykwYQm_CkavM1vku8vO_ArgJ3to-aUaVHwVM5WzrtG8JnD3RwS7lXNTIvBeI0976rjA3xkna3y5tMpI9L4BXAdIvNj_Kxqc/s320/IMG00164.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513995323333067778" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzVMo9XWfX34xl5baUHbXo7L2_aHDTAZPTHyma54R3Sfds-lgrsj3Q5weECLMQ83EUSVCqKd9gyoACPhIEisx-maYZE-Z33ZKVG3OuALqliwuO2UaAJ1Qx0jCOa_HEDFV01ANvJf7l7a8/s320/IMG00165.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513996883710086034" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe that is how she has lost so much weight lately? I didn't even have a chance to say 'good-bye'.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMKFvasxRfJnj0J3bF18gD1Pf9QcOVzYXk69XZTiGg_doBphMLrZZaLIgo-mKK9LvzsOooAGuLz5xdiuhj2QufI_7SYwU0gKeR-DivTNEB2Sjdm9pn8PadyqKtAln2OLWapupT0hyphenhyphenaLVI/s320/IMG00168.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513997866627334034" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And then, I finally caught up </div><div>to her ... wait a minute! She's already heading back - in a full jog.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK_Jmq2ASu7u1jtXdZ6HzJ6RFAlTsXtzlFMZiqxGn0dCMnM2IXwnfy_aHEsQv0tPdmQ0oZQ0X-YmBguy3gWTZLDJaaswDq3RE3CfMK8lUHxbouPKSqA7txMgTsnYRZ1ighoTdAr3JM6J0/s320/IMG00170.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513998616405623682" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So much for me thinking I'm in shape. I need to take a lesson from Millie.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm proud of you Mil!</div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-22230862441025774572010-05-25T18:21:00.001-07:002010-05-25T18:27:49.393-07:00Move Over Gerber Baby<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcw-gYzLXrLoslude9P49ZTcx4XClYoG3hVQDOI53UHyzAuHnDb0UAWtusiTqVFNtX-KQCTJdDe2xM3S-XP905Y6Uzcv9t-aVGu9QfK3ZECUnzK-M2X9n3e6IoC7wbECxO2uhIiibKSio/s1600/BBB+feaux+hawk.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcw-gYzLXrLoslude9P49ZTcx4XClYoG3hVQDOI53UHyzAuHnDb0UAWtusiTqVFNtX-KQCTJdDe2xM3S-XP905Y6Uzcv9t-aVGu9QfK3ZECUnzK-M2X9n3e6IoC7wbECxO2uhIiibKSio/s320/BBB+feaux+hawk.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475383486719468434" /></a><br /><br><br />Here is the latest picture of my grandson, Beckham Bear Bearchell. <br><br /><br />Some say he looks like Bear, others say he looks like Jen. I say he just looks cool - with a personality to match.<br /><br>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-18621736826128190282010-05-22T20:40:00.000-07:002010-06-27T12:17:21.892-07:00A Good DayMillie, Megan and I spent the first part of the day watching Zach play in the flag football championship, and the second half of the day with Bear and his family. Life is good, and God gave it to us. Thank you God!!!Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-34739080567065054982010-05-22T14:47:00.000-07:002010-05-22T14:52:50.932-07:00Imperial Beach, CAI just spent 3 days at 6th Grade Camp with 66 kids from our school. It was a lot of walking and a lot of watching (camp staff did all the teaching and training). the camp is right on the beach, so it made all the negative stuff melt away into a positive experience for the kids and our staff.<br /><br />Here area a few sketches for my experience. (Notice anything missing from the pictures? Kids.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8f1Xo2YSs9OTKp8u3malh5Y3Xa6lorOlST3cJj7o7j9VzSvv6sTGQFjciwb4NZ5barnfyRyYaODLaZuAXC_cTsy-Icn8b7lNsNNYvKxfAu9LA5sRhj5GOBSJ09QNsjGetad_7MTIJXU/s1600/100_0380.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8f1Xo2YSs9OTKp8u3malh5Y3Xa6lorOlST3cJj7o7j9VzSvv6sTGQFjciwb4NZ5barnfyRyYaODLaZuAXC_cTsy-Icn8b7lNsNNYvKxfAu9LA5sRhj5GOBSJ09QNsjGetad_7MTIJXU/s320/100_0380.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474215427548690354" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3hMZEk2nOZ3ZGY0EXsyhSU7yaMQzhUKwXljciQwdSKXWZq_PB5EOUj-rHUF0sD7O-ei_LXWTYMAbX2mOcxu4p5EBfj_2qm_TVajtRyHT4BU07KkaQUycg9ZEGkSPKNBiLPvLsaQq6eE/s1600/100_0377.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3hMZEk2nOZ3ZGY0EXsyhSU7yaMQzhUKwXljciQwdSKXWZq_PB5EOUj-rHUF0sD7O-ei_LXWTYMAbX2mOcxu4p5EBfj_2qm_TVajtRyHT4BU07KkaQUycg9ZEGkSPKNBiLPvLsaQq6eE/s320/100_0377.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474215143290996850" /></a>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-11858443279993709372010-04-23T18:04:00.001-07:002010-04-23T18:12:13.047-07:00From One Week to the Next<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO9HqoWn38wpoEGAbrgr1x3SG6y_pHVBkYd-KhlSyTnYQeC5EDUYDUkohCZYvgIXvKA2la3SsjimZCGOwRG_DRVG9IkqxFceKde3sFrN1U8uMeuDv5W-zmN0vsoisQ0aBHF4pxYr26-ic/s1600/La+Jolla+cliffs.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO9HqoWn38wpoEGAbrgr1x3SG6y_pHVBkYd-KhlSyTnYQeC5EDUYDUkohCZYvgIXvKA2la3SsjimZCGOwRG_DRVG9IkqxFceKde3sFrN1U8uMeuDv5W-zmN0vsoisQ0aBHF4pxYr26-ic/s320/La+Jolla+cliffs.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463504882505114434" /></a><br />I spent the other day on the cliffs of La Jolla sketching and painting with a friend. It was an amazing day at the ocean. And then ...<br /><br />I spent this last week proctoring the CA STAR test for a group of 8th graders. Basically that means I read them the instructions and then let them do the work. My job was to make sure no one cheated and no part of the test (including scratch paper) left the testing room.<br /><br />Funny - I can't even remember taking the STAR test when I was in school. I just remember running to get in line with the schoolmarm rang the bell, then get in trouble for running. Were there such tests in the olden days.<br /><br />I love what I do for my job and I love what I do on my own time. Life is good!Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-67215733935710804202010-03-30T16:23:00.000-07:002010-04-22T22:10:57.431-07:00NOTHING BETTER<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There isn't much in this world better than spending time with my grandson Beckham. We walked through the park, along the bay, ate lunch at Panera Cafe and napped. He is a true blessing from God. Thanks Bear and Jenn for doing your part, too.</span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_w0mMZ0SsoaObtfgm-G6oJfJNJ6FaVhS1Z8s1X0_1nlSufXUXZBgGXz1DmcuInSA73SSlh8zeLgwcVLoBpUuK9mft9syRvONeDhkyGAHbYzIwNdNU0b8W-20e6LcaKTH0e0MLA1Votc/s1600/bbb.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_w0mMZ0SsoaObtfgm-G6oJfJNJ6FaVhS1Z8s1X0_1nlSufXUXZBgGXz1DmcuInSA73SSlh8zeLgwcVLoBpUuK9mft9syRvONeDhkyGAHbYzIwNdNU0b8W-20e6LcaKTH0e0MLA1Votc/s320/bbb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454571702451400066" /></a>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-59768781627519315562010-03-11T23:05:00.000-08:002010-04-22T22:19:45.414-07:00ONE OF THOSE DAYSEver have one of those days when you just want to sail away? Not far - just away? It's not that i don't like where I am, it's just that I want to experience the freedom and the solitude that sailing in the Puget Sound, and anchoring in it's many coves can bring.<br /><sp><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkZO29oSXUrbgcZN-lfzG37so2ycnscV9SqiICX9RBAEQfWFFwujX8rgvVCHcfc3gp3fuO099AXiXzQ48pjtEJ7ULjXp2JBJjh67XSpPXHLqXjMMUTO5QbPh9_VrZXuFjX2wIa0lHJVo/s1600-h/For+Sail+copy.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkZO29oSXUrbgcZN-lfzG37so2ycnscV9SqiICX9RBAEQfWFFwujX8rgvVCHcfc3gp3fuO099AXiXzQ48pjtEJ7ULjXp2JBJjh67XSpPXHLqXjMMUTO5QbPh9_VrZXuFjX2wIa0lHJVo/s320/For+Sail+copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447640170981639186" /></a></sp>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-34449386864063305062010-02-14T15:45:00.000-08:002010-02-14T15:52:03.763-08:00Just ThinkingI can't believe that at 16 year old girl is sailing around the world - by herself - non stop - never getting off her boat - no one helping her - parents letting her (though if one of my kids was to do that, I suppose I would be excited for them). Well she is. Abby Sunderland. What the heck, why not? Her brother did it last year at the age of 17 years. They are the first 2 of 7 kids. <br /><br />What are the other 5 kids going to look forward to. What if the other kids get seasick, or are afraid of the dark, the ocean, being alone? Will everyone think of them as wimps? I'm just thinking ...Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-71593456780334930992010-02-04T16:41:00.000-08:002010-02-04T16:45:42.791-08:00A grandfather's thought...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ56CNwwyGR_xU3nMNQ9lis864aR1zyARPj_fjJ6qwfKO9gJNdU59Ni03yuOJnnCw0oZ_32wFQtuBOs1gzsRv60g0GPbthXg6nRr10wjmI9ZGxC39xwmSXu32eExVTEgbKSqRLNETyC3o/s1600-h/BBB+smile.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434553393260788434" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ56CNwwyGR_xU3nMNQ9lis864aR1zyARPj_fjJ6qwfKO9gJNdU59Ni03yuOJnnCw0oZ_32wFQtuBOs1gzsRv60g0GPbthXg6nRr10wjmI9ZGxC39xwmSXu32eExVTEgbKSqRLNETyC3o/s320/BBB+smile.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left">I'm told that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. </div><div align="left"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">BEHOLD</span>!<br /></div></strong>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-17119423677681181362010-01-26T08:59:00.000-08:002010-01-26T09:05:36.078-08:00San Diego is what it is - a beautiful place (even on a cloudy day).<br /><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNU14z_BUNUJxgPUIzDO2mdjvMpAiIw64GKOjB10g52SIGjohQ9UTSQ06YCTk3IqU3-0x_x9F8lRUuoJv_bKlBGeAyh2J8emtX6dmz2sjB6BHq90ffxkiXjSX9BTa_6cyXwV2STzWQeDE/s320/IMG00057.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431095191993661682" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-14465794670664839302009-11-21T17:15:00.000-08:002009-11-21T17:20:03.795-08:0025th World Wide Sketchcrawl<div> It was a beautiful morning in Old Town San Diego, CA.</div><div>70 degrees and sunny.</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5AbGnzSdK9qiz_75nWCsP-mOnil7rdlLlRw-S12Bzp7pRSX9mDyoYpwZT7-R-6byIfobn3loxIXJtn3MUnEh8tnYlazc48I8WS5aYUqQCZNMTOLmIJz-Pnlk_CplddhjZT4AQZP5-djw/s1600/DSC09296.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406731046347002834" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5AbGnzSdK9qiz_75nWCsP-mOnil7rdlLlRw-S12Bzp7pRSX9mDyoYpwZT7-R-6byIfobn3loxIXJtn3MUnEh8tnYlazc48I8WS5aYUqQCZNMTOLmIJz-Pnlk_CplddhjZT4AQZP5-djw/s320/DSC09296.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwuqPqONuc4fDZ86vWS-GJRCleSHzIDojAF6QT2x3g61yypBl0fYC3zMLwh8cFj0W7L4WFka20GScBALiqqCMnM3yty6HTkkC2TVma8Bh0TzJDu498qtjeevUrBVkn7YGSC4U3_BYzkM/s1600/DSC09297.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406730810569574818" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwuqPqONuc4fDZ86vWS-GJRCleSHzIDojAF6QT2x3g61yypBl0fYC3zMLwh8cFj0W7L4WFka20GScBALiqqCMnM3yty6HTkkC2TVma8Bh0TzJDu498qtjeevUrBVkn7YGSC4U3_BYzkM/s320/DSC09297.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div>I often wonder what it would have been like in the 1800's. I wonder if I would still be a teacher - I mean with the one room school house and all.</div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-1758740532230928442009-10-18T19:53:00.000-07:002009-10-18T19:58:15.938-07:00Welcome Beckham Bear Bearchell<div><div>Born October 13th at 8:37am.</div><div>Can I just say he's perfect?</div><div>He is perfect!!!</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiw0Yv2P7jRfV4jOVO_YVJJTyDaEqx4hfGPZau8aEmacmmJ2RtmzaAXcOeRzLRkkP4WMKC68g4SMWhNhA2L5vsBvbTnRMntJXYzVm6pdO47Lqh5C93FmLC2g9FvK-8rXbHqXCepq232j4/s1600-h/IMG00118.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394139551214034370" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiw0Yv2P7jRfV4jOVO_YVJJTyDaEqx4hfGPZau8aEmacmmJ2RtmzaAXcOeRzLRkkP4WMKC68g4SMWhNhA2L5vsBvbTnRMntJXYzVm6pdO47Lqh5C93FmLC2g9FvK-8rXbHqXCepq232j4/s320/IMG00118.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv0TjuIMceBpJbUzHnvITenUQoYVYL8snak8yAeonEqIvAWN4L_1lviAg3ivr2CmXqrgUtusp1w7TIjzX3w30__Hx5F9aK7EtVJFs9i7aiDzuSrV-L-LptzrCgxDZ9id9mrzXleYqBdu4/s1600-h/DSC09169.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394139746774141394" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv0TjuIMceBpJbUzHnvITenUQoYVYL8snak8yAeonEqIvAWN4L_1lviAg3ivr2CmXqrgUtusp1w7TIjzX3w30__Hx5F9aK7EtVJFs9i7aiDzuSrV-L-LptzrCgxDZ9id9mrzXleYqBdu4/s320/DSC09169.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-32429102262540487512009-09-19T17:36:00.000-07:002009-09-19T17:55:27.492-07:00SketchCrawil - Temecula<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>More sketches from the self-proclaimed <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">sketchist</span>.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJoY9di3CzzqSLmoHSwmmu9i0YvY7yOWcWFwuGi5howco7dInakWU20TagBt_bhkkXfOtb47ma6CdbveNCA0mr0mNrqiGS7Dp-OAiWBgyo7YpnUFzikLh0yi8TD6uUgxS4TIC-G3AudRQ/s1600-h/Old+Tem+BTB.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJoY9di3CzzqSLmoHSwmmu9i0YvY7yOWcWFwuGi5howco7dInakWU20TagBt_bhkkXfOtb47ma6CdbveNCA0mr0mNrqiGS7Dp-OAiWBgyo7YpnUFzikLh0yi8TD6uUgxS4TIC-G3AudRQ/s320/Old+Tem+BTB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383346344301409026" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vdXRaDNynsx3lsIlPtDdmZAeA-vtEaY3gYnbCKvcqJ3jyYd-nQyMEgJKhpQbYrwMQavpkJfekDJvVqJFDnPmPZimTGxMRy1HhiZnRWEaGkyZ3SXsvAa0EWhVbFmJEuQYxqY8Uhyga8A/s1600-h/Old+Tem+Front+Street.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vdXRaDNynsx3lsIlPtDdmZAeA-vtEaY3gYnbCKvcqJ3jyYd-nQyMEgJKhpQbYrwMQavpkJfekDJvVqJFDnPmPZimTGxMRy1HhiZnRWEaGkyZ3SXsvAa0EWhVbFmJEuQYxqY8Uhyga8A/s320/Old+Tem+Front+Street.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383345418405724274" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uTRW7nzilgECqH250d_nT26R4fJXJ_JmgwN6wOhMF7nwjt4mfMCHTYkjm3P8tV76Wx5fcbnLhZyzc_yQj1yrr3wQ4WwcKdhfepEs1tSi8vvenbbj5nyuT0QYn_WBEzSG1wA0aNFoCtA/s1600-h/Old+Tem+Main+Street.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uTRW7nzilgECqH250d_nT26R4fJXJ_JmgwN6wOhMF7nwjt4mfMCHTYkjm3P8tV76Wx5fcbnLhZyzc_yQj1yrr3wQ4WwcKdhfepEs1tSi8vvenbbj5nyuT0QYn_WBEzSG1wA0aNFoCtA/s320/Old+Tem+Main+Street.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383345718167623586" border="0" /></a>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-25571892030329554672009-08-14T15:59:00.000-07:002009-08-14T16:09:18.541-07:00I am a 'Sketch-ist' not an artist.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYsWtU5fXqb112CtejJPJUOi53KaxFyvMQEwzyF8toxwOLdcj9YOFxMWrBd7W0VYxV7aGiUuHNHmOYY7m4ezdSv1-zBaojprM1fO5FZHShp3AZnEDtR03_MjxSHshpDtvaVl4hzHDU4w/s1600-h/DSC09039.JPG"></a>I love the art of sketching. No pressure, No expectations, just getting it out there on paper, driftwood or whatever happens to be the canvas of the day.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYsWtU5fXqb112CtejJPJUOi53KaxFyvMQEwzyF8toxwOLdcj9YOFxMWrBd7W0VYxV7aGiUuHNHmOYY7m4ezdSv1-zBaojprM1fO5FZHShp3AZnEDtR03_MjxSHshpDtvaVl4hzHDU4w/s1600-h/DSC09039.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYsWtU5fXqb112CtejJPJUOi53KaxFyvMQEwzyF8toxwOLdcj9YOFxMWrBd7W0VYxV7aGiUuHNHmOYY7m4ezdSv1-zBaojprM1fO5FZHShp3AZnEDtR03_MjxSHshpDtvaVl4hzHDU4w/s320/DSC09039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369959049246473330" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWHhV1ECWBQFOVb5Z9f8ExlRK3KXLKEIVUy4JusoYnXxN_4NVpURSnIRm2IAMBgdyURqCFdfMx7UeHB_6yHt7MvkzkQuXMct0kVc725sfeaJE1EOCzW0zMJMc5XW23CKKnssbLYKncpVU/s1600-h/DSC09038.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWHhV1ECWBQFOVb5Z9f8ExlRK3KXLKEIVUy4JusoYnXxN_4NVpURSnIRm2IAMBgdyURqCFdfMx7UeHB_6yHt7MvkzkQuXMct0kVc725sfeaJE1EOCzW0zMJMc5XW23CKKnssbLYKncpVU/s320/DSC09038.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369959041380684562" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNHmeNp-tYBNel59XtqF4dIxt8E5BsbLZNDAfNNeqB1S3mRxYUy6L-t0pXLW3H3CanwcSY7rdVm2F6b-DrGR1qNWSgJQtsPqIVMcoe4NfFOLN3269f2NN0LRJ7ZK4mxunM2_p8z_qH-A/s1600-h/DSC09018.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrNHmeNp-tYBNel59XtqF4dIxt8E5BsbLZNDAfNNeqB1S3mRxYUy6L-t0pXLW3H3CanwcSY7rdVm2F6b-DrGR1qNWSgJQtsPqIVMcoe4NfFOLN3269f2NN0LRJ7ZK4mxunM2_p8z_qH-A/s320/DSC09018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369959030582952402" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf7zI60c8pL0XDOYPDHw1t6Yd_Z3NjUpT6n4drHtudMmD80NEfjKeJokfN7SXAWQshVTGjSglVjhxgZliQSPXzha69BuOOBnoplzTvMQ5sU-0c9TyqGDX-bx2s7fj-NBSUmyuVc2yS7CY/s1600-h/DSC09019.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf7zI60c8pL0XDOYPDHw1t6Yd_Z3NjUpT6n4drHtudMmD80NEfjKeJokfN7SXAWQshVTGjSglVjhxgZliQSPXzha69BuOOBnoplzTvMQ5sU-0c9TyqGDX-bx2s7fj-NBSUmyuVc2yS7CY/s320/DSC09019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369959021540808498" border="0" /></a>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-84546772933688454722009-08-07T15:34:00.001-07:002009-08-07T15:39:28.790-07:00So long, summer?Alas, summer is over - not the season, just the break. It time to start getting ready for the classroom again. What can I do to teach the same thing a different, and more exciting way? how can I compete with the hi-tech mentality of today's youth? Do I need to compete? <br /><br />How much have the students remembered from last year? How much have they forgotten over the last 10 weeks?<br /><br />Most of the kids are really excited when they come back to school. How do you keep that excitement up for the rest of the year?<br /><br />Just some thoughts ...<br />BrianBrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-55471680098480304392009-06-15T11:52:00.000-07:002009-06-15T11:59:26.997-07:00It's that time of year again...Kids look forward to summer - Summer camp, the beach, Disneyland, hours of TV, video games & texting, etc. Yet parents wonder, w<span style="font-style: italic;">hat the heck am I going to do with my kids this summer</span>. And then there are the teachers, like myself... it's a <span style="font-weight: bold;">Good News - Bad News</span> situation. We are free for the summer, yet that means we are free of income for the summer, too. Suggestions?Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-71953895590965619322009-06-12T22:39:00.000-07:002009-06-12T22:41:43.612-07:00FriendsI've just spent a week with some great friends. Up until after midnight every night and wanting the days to never end. Is there anything better? Friends have kept me alive. Friends have filled my life with fun. And friends are something I need.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-9729117706285870292008-08-23T16:22:00.000-07:002009-06-15T12:02:54.457-07:00New Book - Driftwood Painter<strong>UPDATED:</strong> <em>So, some of you know that I am writing a book, and have asked what it is about. Well, here is a clip from the prologue. Tell me what you think.</em><br /><br />“Are you sure their phone was disconnected? Maybe they just aren’t home,” Barnes asked Mrs. Franklin on this cold, foggy autumn morning.<br /><br />“I’ve tried several times, and each time the message was the same, ‘sorry the number you are trying to reach is no longer in use.’”<br /><br />Then, with a loud clang, the chain snapped tight as the growling Rottweiler’ frothing mouth came to an abrupt stop, just inches from Deputy Barnes and Mrs. Nadine Franklin. Mrs. Franklin screamed as they both jumped back to the sidewalk. They hadn’t noticed him coming around the corner, from the back of the house when they passed through the gate, which hung on the fence by a single hinge.<br /><br />“Whoa there, puppy dog!” Barnes said under his breath. Sweat immediately appeared on his temples. “Where did you come from?” he said from behind the fence.<br /><br />Mrs. Franklin put one hand to her chest and the other to her mouth. “We could have been killed,” she said. “Oh Lord, I saw my life just flash by.”<br /><br />It took Barnes, a veteran of the police force for 15 years, a few moments to catch his breath and compose himself, too. He walked over to the driveway, then back to where Mrs. Franklin stood frozen in her shoes.<br /><br />“How are we going to get past that?” Nadine asked, pointing to the now barking dog.<br /><br />“It looks like we can reach the front door if we go up the driveway,” Barnes said, pointing to the cat that didn’t seem to concerned. “I think the cat might have a better idea of where Fido can go.”<br /><br />“Oh Lord, those poor girls,” Nadine said under her breath about Kate and Karen James. “Those poor helpless little girls.”<br /><br />“Isn’t Fido a little extreme as a pet for two little girls? Isn’t there something in the ‘Foster Parenting’ rulebook about owning a ‘killer dog’?” Deputy Barnes asked.<br /><br />“...only if it isn’t vaccinated or licensed. However, there are rules about having a secured, fenced in yard ... with no broken gates.”<br /><br />“Remind me again, why we are here,” Barnes said with a smirk on his face.<br /><br />“To check on two little girls, that I placed in this family about a month ago,” she said with a hesitant voice. “I thought they were an acceptable couple, but we got a call last night from one of the neighbors, who heard a lot of yelling and some glass breaking from inside the house.” Then after hesitating, added, “I feel so awful.”<br /><br />“And what are the names of the couple that took them into their home?”<br /><br />“Edward and Olive Gray ... and the girls’ names are Kate and Karen James, ages ten and seven ... poor things,” she added as her eyes began to burn from the tears that flooded them.<br /><br />There were two cars sitting on jacks in the driveway and an old Chevy van at the curb. Except for the path that they now recognized was worn down from the dog, the yard hadn’t been tended to in weeks. Tall weeks had well taken the place of any grass that might have been under them. Several old tires and an old washing machine also adorned the front yard.<br /><br />The dog continued to bark as Deputy Barnes and Mrs. Franklin carefully walked up the driveway, between the cars, staying close to the house. At the top of the driveway, they stayed close to the house, where they were able to walk safely up the steps to the porch. They were both relieved that the dog’s chain wasn’t long enough for it to reach them.<br /><br />Without loosing the cigarette from her lips, a lady dressed in a shabby bath robe and furry pink, slippers yelled as she opened the door, “Darn it, Buck, will you shut the hell up?”<br /><br />She was startled when she turned around to go back in and saw Barnes and Frankiln standing on the porch, too.<br /><br />Grabbing the cigarette from her mouth, she said, “Oh, I’m sorry. Can I help you?” she asked, then recognized Nadine, “ ... oh hello Mrs. Franklin. Is there something I can help you with?” Olive’s voice was shaking.<br /><br />“Mrs. Gray, can we come in?” asked the deputy, who by this time had his handkerchief out and was wiping the back of his neck. Though Mrs. Gray was in front of him, Barnes looked past her, through the cloud of smoke and the odor of stale beer, making mental notes of the condition of the house.<br /><br />“Uh, is ... is there something wrong?” she stuttered, obviously nervous.<br /><br />Deputy Barnes heard a door slam shut, then saw Mr. Gray come marching around the corner, and to the front door.<br /><br />“What the hell’s going on?” he barked in the direction of Mrs. Franklin. Then noticing Mrs. Franklin said, “Oh, hi. What brings you and ” then looking at Deputy Barnes badge, “him here.”<br /><br />“Can we come in?” Barnes asked again, with more force this time as he opened the outer screen door.<br /><br />“Of course you can,” Mrs. Gray sheepishly said as she got a nod from her husband. “Can I ... uh, can I get you something to drink?”<br /><br />As they moved into the living room, Barns answered, “No ma’am. Why don’t you and your husband just take a seat over here,” Barnes said as he pointing to the tattered couch.<br /><br />Instead of following the others, Nadine marched straight down the hallway to the girls’ bedroom.<br />She was a taken back as she opened the door, that appeared to have a hole kickin int the base of it, and walked into the darkened room. “Oh my God. This can’t be the same room I inspected just a month earlier,” she yelled back to Barnes. There were several holes in the walls, and the furniture that was once there had been replaced by a single broken bed and a chest with two of the four drawers missing. The floor was a mess and the clothes hamper was full.<br /><br />“Girls? Kate ... Karen? It’s Mrs. Franklin,” she whispered gently. A quiet whimpering coming from the closet caught her attention. Walking over to it, she slowly opened the door and found the girls cowering in corner. Both were frozen in fear. Kate was clutching an old stuffed bear that had bells in its ears and one eye missing. She also held a piece of driftwood she had painted a simple picture of the cabin on it, and kept as a reminder of their summer vacations with their grandparents. Karen had one are tightly wrapped through Kate’s, while the other held tight to a small blanket and ‘Mr. Floppy’ – her stuffed bunny.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-86691103819407627592008-04-25T11:30:00.000-07:002008-04-25T11:39:04.222-07:00My Baby Goes to Brazil<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjje0aJCTMBj7AU8u8hqmEPiAndtBs7P5B5e-yJKcLqHt4Os9LJ8cGPHFph-QfKWi5wVbeEmqmyMp5Col-pw-10N-QLQu_JkfsCiPO0YLJR47swhnyd_GWoCNtXR96iLbbk3WLK0KNCpgs/s1600-h/megs.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjje0aJCTMBj7AU8u8hqmEPiAndtBs7P5B5e-yJKcLqHt4Os9LJ8cGPHFph-QfKWi5wVbeEmqmyMp5Col-pw-10N-QLQu_JkfsCiPO0YLJR47swhnyd_GWoCNtXR96iLbbk3WLK0KNCpgs/s320/megs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193252957489219154" border="0" /></a><br />It's hard to believe that in just a few weeks, my baby girl is going to Brazil. She will be staying with Bianca, who stayed with us for 6 months last year.<br /><br />Megan will be there for 7 weeks honing her soccer skills and sampling the Brazilian cultures and life styles.<br /><br />This is a trip she has planned and paid for herself (with a few donations from family and friends.<br /><br />Be sure to keep her and her parents in your prayers as she takes to the Amazon, (though she will probably never see the Amazon).<br /><br />Keep in touch!<br />BrianBrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-17515227906615489382008-02-29T08:52:00.000-08:002008-02-29T09:02:42.765-08:00Which 'That'?<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2OrzTnqfHLypiAsPfM_ltN9godB4nzoX4lJfZcvP2PEZyozQzsqU37I2kcxGAth_rbqG37kDEf0mwOBCW57zokWay8Nxd4S9CVlcEvq7BzTr6-55EqbEtYVPROPp4ROtJdsB-_CFOu8/s1600-h/qmark.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172448384498769426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 102px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 94px" height="105" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2OrzTnqfHLypiAsPfM_ltN9godB4nzoX4lJfZcvP2PEZyozQzsqU37I2kcxGAth_rbqG37kDEf0mwOBCW57zokWay8Nxd4S9CVlcEvq7BzTr6-55EqbEtYVPROPp4ROtJdsB-_CFOu8/s320/qmark.jpg" width="120" border="0" /></a>So ... I was thinking ... if I was not sure which <strong>'that'</strong> to use ... and my daughter does ... could she say, "that that <strong>'that',</strong> that I was talking about was the right <strong>'that'</strong>?<br /><br />Just thinking ...<br /><br />Brian</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877787748363132791.post-87111106893238933732008-02-07T12:11:00.000-08:002008-02-07T12:23:51.481-08:00Who Stole My Youth?I know I'm not the originator of this saying but it happened to me, "<strong><em>I looked in the mirror this morning and there was an old man staring back at me</em></strong>!" What happened? Where did my youth go? Who stole it? Time can be evil! But if I consider the option to getting older, I'll take the gray hair and age spots.<br /><br />Actually I don't feel as old as I look. Granted I'm slower and not as motivated to do jumping jacks, but my mind and attitude is still moving fast and believeing that I'm not as old as my birth certificate demands.<br /><br />The other day I went for a 5 mile run with dog, then swam several laps at the local YMCA. After that I walked to the park and jumped right into a pickup soccer game. Unfortunatly that all ended when Millie yelled, "Dinner time" and woke me up. I may not have actually done what I was dreaming about, but when I tried to get up from the couch and go to the dinner table, I was moving slow and was sore. (Is it possible to get sore, if you dream about running?)<br /><br />Have a youthful day. It's all a matter of your mindset ... and your dreams!<br /><br />Brian T. Bearchell<br /><a href="http://www.bearchell.com/">http://www.bearchell.com/</a>Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13031311574512524361noreply@blogger.com0