Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Wednesday Wambwings

Okay, all you tewwific weaders, I admit to being a bit of a cwazy wabbit at times, but I weawy can’t help sounding wike Elmer Fudd today because Tuesday, the day I usuawy wite my wambwings, has alweady wetweated wapidwy into histowy. Uh-oh, now I’m beginning to sound a wittle wike Gilda Radner doing Baba Wawa. I cannot keep that up for more than two sentences, sorry.

Sunday afternoon I went to a Stud Party. Not what you're thinking. Our church choir holds a Stud Party whenever someone in our church is having a new home built. We take our Bibles and felt-tip pens to the framed-in-but-not-yet-sheet-rocked house and write Scripture verses on the studs that will eventually be behind walls in the house. The trick is in making it relevant; what you put and where you put it is very important. For example, Deuteronomy 28:6 seems appropriate by the front door (You will be blessed when you come in and blessed when you go out). Psalm 51:7 is better near the bathtub (Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow). Afterward we gather in a big circle and sing songs and pray. Great fun and very spiritual at the same time. I recommend it.

On Monday, Mrs. RWP and I made a 60-mile round trip in our gas guzzler so that our favorite dental hygienist could clean our teeth. I nearly canceled the appointments at the last minute because the price of gasoline skyrocketed by about $1.00 a gallon around here this weekend in the aftermath of Hurricane Ike’s effect on oil refineries in Texas and Louisiana. I don’t know why, but this makes me think of “the butterfly effect” -- you know, a butterfly stirs up the air while crossing my backyard and eventually there is a typhoon off the coast of China. We are all interconnected in ways we don’t realize. I scrape together some gas money and take a little car trip and my dentist gets to go skiing in Colorado this winter. My new white smile reflects more brightly into the atmosphere and the temperature goes up a couple of degrees in Zanzibar. Al Gore said so, and it’s all our fault. Mine and yours. Mostly yours.

My oldest son will be 44 this Saturday. I don’t see how this is possible since I am only 38 myself. Actually, I lied. I’m not 38. But in hexadecimal, I’m 43. I will not speak or write further about hexadecimal notation unless there is a huge clamor for it from my readers and public demonstrations in every city. Send your cards, letters, and petitions to Down With Decimal, c/o General Delivery, Not Grapevine, Texas. No phone calls, please.

This is short, but as I can’t think of anything else to write about at the moment, T.T.F.N.*

*Ta Ta For Now (Tigger in Winnie the Pooh)


  1. I have an inquiring mind. I actually enjoy learning new things. I try to learn at least two new things every day. Your blog, Bob, provides much enjoyable mental stimulation and I always look forward to my visits here.

    However, I found out very quickly this morning that hexadecimal notation is NOT one of the things I care to have using any of my remaining brain cells. I read the first paragraph of the Wikipedia article on the subject and now have a headache. (I must be allergic to anything mathematical beyond basic addition, subtraction, multiplication and division.)

    I shall now go into the garden and eat worms. Perhaps I shall see a waskily wabbit while I am there.

  2. Nothing like a child aging to make you feel old. My oldest will be 33 next month. I love the idea of the stud party. That is something every new home needs.

  3. I love the idea of the stud party.

    While our house was being built, we prayed for it every night. I'm convinced that's the main reason it has had fewer problems than many of the surrounding houses (built at the same time, by the same company).

  4. I've never heard of a "stud party", but what a super idea! We built a room a couple years would have been the perfect chance. Is it a southern tradition, do you think?

  5. Thanks to Pat, Vonda, Ruth, and Jeannelle (the Chordettes? the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?) for commenting.

    Pat, if you do see a waskily wabbit, put a photo of it up on your blog!

    Vonda, we're just getting used to the idea of being grandparents, and in just a few short years we could well be great-grandparents. So how come we still feel 20 inside?

    Ruth, we still pray for our house every time we leave on a trip. Shakespeare said it best: "More things are wrought through prayer than this world dreams of."

    Jeannelle, I don't know whether the stud party is a southern tradition. We had never heard of it until our present choir director came to the church six years ago. She has lived in Georgia, Mississippi, and Alabama, but it may have been her very own idea. I can't really say for sure. I should ask her.

  6. Mrs. Rhymeswithplague, who reads all of these comments, mine and yours, when they miraculously appear in our e-mail's inbox, has refreshed my apparently faulty memory on the origin of our "stud parties." Our church's choir director had nothing to do with bringing us the "stud party" concept, Mrs. RWP says. It happened that when we were building the house we currently live in our daughter (who teaches school in the Birmingham, Alabama, area) told us that *her* church's choir and orchestra had held a "stud party" for one of their friends.

    I stand corrected.

    So stud parties were introduced to the Roswell, Georgia, area about five years ago from the Gardendale, Alabama, area. Where they occurred before that is anybody's guess!