"A conservative is a man who believes that nothing should be done for the first time." - Alfred E. Wigam

I am outraged! Incensed!
Several times in the last few days I've seen a TV ad for Scott's lawn products. In it a neighbor comments on how bad their lawn looks and encourages them to use Scott's spring fertilizer to make it lush and green.
In an effort to play off their company name the neighbor is supposed to be Scottish.
EXCEPT HE'S IRISH!
He has red hair, a red beard, and speaks with an Irish accent, not a Scottish brogue. And he looks like the stereotypical Irish guy, with the round face and sappy smile.
Everybody knows Scots are a stern, austere breed.
So are the ad people that clueless? Or did they decide, "Scots are stern and austere and not what we want as a company image. So we'll throw a guy acting Irish in there. Nobody will notice."
WELL I DID!
And I'm not happy about it. In fact, I've decided not to use Scott's fertilizer on my gravel this year.

As long as we're ranting, how hard can it be to design a fiberglass shower mold with a soap shelf that slopes forward and ridges to support the bar that slope back? C'mon, folks. Really.

Today the teller at the bank was telling me about her car. This gal is in her mid-20's and drives a '65 Impala 2-door convertible. What?? She explained her boyfriend of many years was into cars and set her up with this one, doing all the work inside and out. About the time it was done they broke up. She kept the car. And thinks she came out ahead on all levels.
She showed me a picture on her smart phone.
Lowered, dubs with very low-profile tires, purple paint job with pin striping, side pipes...
Not my cup of tea but she's thrilled with it and that's what counts.

The UPS guy pulled up late yesterday afternoon and neither of us knew why. As soon as he handed me the small package I knew what it was - a box of 35mm slides from my older brother. My folks have stacks and stacks of carousels, each holding 100 slides dad took over the last 40-50 years. Scott was over in Seattle recently and helped them make a small dent on the 1,000+ slides, looking at them, pitching most and pulling some out to distribute as appropriate. This box contained those that pertained to us.

Some were interesting, like pics taken on the occasion of my H.S. graduation. Good grief.

Many reached into my stomach for a powerful tug. Like the pictures of the boys when they were very young - preschool and early elementary age. (They really were cute kids.) It reminded me how tight we were as a family unit, often the case for families in the ministry who move every few years.

A couple were "sit quietly and feel" pictures.
We have very few pictures of Pam's dad, as kind and gracious a man as I've ever known. Like most family heads he was usually behind the camera. But my dad took a photo of Pam, her younger brother and their dad. What a treasure.
Selah
And the photo of my aunt and uncle holding Steve when he was an infant. Priceless. When Steve was born I was a pastor in our first church, a very small congregation of older people who either didn't know or didn't care that the meager salary they paid their pastor wasn't sufficient to meet the minimum needs in life, never mind care for a newborn. Uncle Warren and Aunt Berdine lived 40 miles up the freeway in Orange County. They brought us a used crib and dresser, and used baby clothes. They paid for three months of diaper service. Warren and Berdine were not blessed with extra finances; they lived very simply themselves, of necessity. But they had hearts full of grace and compassion, including for a young couple in ministry. That's why Steve's middle name is Warren. He'll never know how close he came to being named Warren Berdine MacDonald. Seeing the two of them on a couch holding our infant son brought back a rush of humble gratitude.
Selah.

I'm making work of finding the best way to convert some 35mm slides into digital images.