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notinKansasanymore
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When my son was two, he put part of a walnut, from his oatmeal, up his nostril. An emergency room papoose-board and a tube up his nose somehow cured him of ever wanting to even look at another walnut again.

Oh, he'll eat them; he loves them. We just can't let on that they're "walnuts." If he hears that word, he won't touch them.

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I don't know about the others... but I been missing you! (and you guys)... hey, how are you getting to the rock this year? I'm thinking maybe rent a Winnebago and just pick up folks along the way... big ol' tub o' punch in the back... what do you think?

(should make for some interesting manifestations)

... big hitter, the lama...

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Hey Tom>

I'll assume my old job of RV pumping... sure have missed all that time under leaky holding tanks… backed up toilets, flies that threaten to carry you away… all that truly good sprutchell stuff.

Howard Allen once asked me if I preferred playing my saxophone on stage to driving the "honey wagon"... I tried to come up with something sprutchell to say... and said...

"Well, that's kind of hard to say… since they BOTH take my breath away!"

He laughed... pretty hard. That is when I knew he was not very sprutchell, either. Laughing at stupid poop jokes!!!

That is when I knew I was trustee material.

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GrayEyeball, I've got no problem with you being trustee of the poop tank... as long as none of the others do...

Reverend2Ts will probably spend a lot of time in there seeking revelation as well as Simeontheloaded doing word studies...

Now... what state are you in?

Probably should pick you up early in the "trip"... niKa's just to the north not too far away...

... big hitter, the lama...

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Hey, keeeds.

If you think of it, please pray for our sweet Grandma Rose. She is my husband's grandmother, and is 97. She enjoyed excellent health for 92 years, and has slowly been losing functions such as mobility, hearing, sight, and clarity of mind. Today, the hospice nurse came for Grandma's preliminary evaluation, and assured the family that when the person who is about to pass is already having conversations with loved ones on the other side, it's generally a very easy, smooth passing. Grandma is ready to go; she has seen the gate, and the string (I have an idea what "the gate" means, but don't understand "the string"), and has been talking to her favorite sister, who passed a couple of years ago, for about six months now.

Yes, yes, I understand what Weirwille said about these being, in his opinion, devils; however, my father was once saved in battle by his best friend, who had died the day before (or two days before, I can't recall at the moment), and I refuse to buy Weirwille's interpretation. Regardless, what I'm asking is for your prayers for a very sweet, devoted lifelong Catholic lady who has led a life of good works, hard work, and love, and is easing out of here. For all I know, there may be something about the dementia of extreme old age which softens the barriers between those who are still here, and those who have gone before; I have no idea.

But Grandma Rose is on a roll, and she's ready. If you think of her, please pray for her.

Thank you very much.

I'll post this same thing on the "lift list" thread, but youse guys are my favorites, and I particularly wanted to ask for your prayers.

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Yougotclout, I trust it is unnecessary to lovingly remind you of our salted commitment to the 7 drink minimum while on your research, teaching and fellowship itinerary in sin city.

And please accept no FREE drinks, as we remember the inspired utterance of our former FLOG Crappie, er, Craiggie, when he spake as he was moved by the holy toast, "It would be accepting a BRIBE!!!".

Pride goeth before a fall, and a haughty spirit before destruction.

Sister Ex, I have been called a mother before, so referring to me as "sweet girl" would in no wise offend me. I am become all things to all men, that I might by any means save money.

Mr. Stranglehold, your tenacious clinging to this forum reminds me of our beloved King Agrippa. Always had a hold of himself.

Simonion, go and do thou likewise, thou winebibber...

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Right Reverend2Ts... oh never mind... I better not go there! the effects should wear off soon... and then you'll be wondering... besides, I haven't 'seen' you guys in over 20 years... so...

How shall I serve thee?

Have you received the revelation upon which to base your teaching? was it revelation to you? for you? through you?)

have a snow cone... it's Fry day...

... big hitter, the lama...

[This message was edited by Tom Strange on July 18, 2003 at 16:02.]

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Okay, you don't have to read all of this. But someone sent it to me, and it made me cry; I thought that you guys might like it.

Love, niKa

> Scars in our Life

>

> Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house.

> In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went.

>

> He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore.

>

> His mother in the house was looking out the window saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, she ran toward the water, yelling to her son as loudly as she could.

>

> Hearing her voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his mother. It was too late. Just as he reached her, the alligator reached him.

>

> >From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the mother was much too passionate to let go.

>

> A farmer happened to drive by, heard her screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.

>

> Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his mother's fingernails dug into his flesh in her effort to hang on to her

son that she loved.

>

> The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pantlegs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, "But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Mom wouldn't let go."

>

> You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. No, not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go.

>

> In the midst of your struggle, He's been there holding on to you. The Scripture teaches that God loves you. You are a child of God. He wants to protect you and provide for you in every way.

>

> But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations, not knowing what lies ahead. The swimming hole of life is filled with peril and we forget that the enemy is waiting to attack.

>

> That's when the tug-of-war begins - and if you have the scars of His love on your arms be very, very grateful. He did not and will not ever let you go.

>

> God has blessed you, so that you can be a blessing to others. You just never know where a person is in his/her life and what they are going through.

>

> Never judge another person's scars, because you don't know how they got them.

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