The sky is falling...

Or so we would think. Now it is true that Washington lobbyists spent a lot of time deregulating the interactions between commercial and Wall Street financial institutions which caused lenders to unload billions in bad debt during the housing boom ultimately causing the near collapse of major mortgage holders and other institutions. But the government is stepping in with a proposed 700 billion dollar relief plan. Wow. It just sounds like bad parenting. I've been riveted by the whole thing and glued to the news during my free time. Here are a few tidbits I've learned over the weekend concerning the economy, congress and some family and good friends of mine.

1) Invest in gold. It went up $70 an ounce in one day last week.
2) Congress has a lower approval rating than the Unabomber.
3) Andrew is in Kuwait City, ready to head into a remote Iraqi province. 11 months to go for him. Stay safe brother...
4) Nik and Gina bought their first home which I have not visited yet but I hear is quite awesome. You guys are great. Congrats!

So really, the sky is not falling and the only reason it's getting darker earlier is because fall is here. So stop for a moment today to enjoy how good life really is...

What is a balst?

One of my loyal readers has posted this question in the comments section of one of my posts. According to a very reputable dictionary source, a balst is a "rip-roaring grand time, an entertaining and lively soiree filled with delightful musical score and enchanting company." noun As in 'I had so much fun at the balst last night'.

Be safe Andrew

My brother deployed to the Middle East on Monday. He arrived in Kuwait and will be heading to Iraq within the next month. I am proud and grateful that we have soldiers like him to defend our country.

I love the TSA

I remember the days when you could stroll through a metal detector at your leisure, smile politely at the screener who seemed to miss every 3rd or 4th bag as it rolled through the x-ray machine, and mosey on down to the gate, even if the only thing you wanted to catch was an overpriced BK Bigfish. So today, in our "post 9/11 world", getting on an airline flight is much different. You must practically undress, endure untold amounts of complaining from the screeners themselves (yeah, they seem to have a problem doing their job, at least in Atlanta), and then there's the occasional run-in with a security agent wearing rubber gloves. And everyone's got their own anecdotal stories. My nephew was patted down on his last trip through an airport with his mother. He's 3. But what if you purchase an airline ticket, one way, on the day you're departing? Well then, it's basically assumed that you're a terrorist. Maybe not a terrorist mastermind but definitely a terrorist. I'm not sure what qualifications your average terorist needs to become an actual mastermind but I'll bet it's a lot. Anyway, so here I am, walking up to the security checkpoint and after a thorough, stern-faced looking-over by the TSA screener, I am escorted to a sectioned off area where I'm told to stand on the rubber mat and surrender my belongings. My bag is taken from me and I am then led to a small room in the center of the screening area. The problem is, this small room has walls made of glass and I feel like a fish in an aquarium and people are looking at me. Some even start to tap on the glass but are shooed away by the over-protective aquarium guides. I stand there for a few minutes, looking out of this glass cell, like TSA's prize trophy when finally, another man enters my cell. CAUTION: If you started reading this post from the last sentence, it's not going where you think it's going. I am then patted down thoroughly and led through the metal detector. My bag is subjected to a once-over with a padded, scrub like instrument and then sampled for explosives residue. I am then escorted to another metal-detector looking device that shoots puffs of air all around me, sampling my clothing for explosives residue. By now, I'm convinced that maybe I am some sort of mastermind until the TSA tells me I can collect my belongings and have a good flight. Are you kidding me? I've had pilot flight physicals that are less invasive. So I know you're looking for a moral to this saga and here it is: When reading blog posts, make sure to start from the beginning.

Cross Country

To all of my loyal readers (which I think has topped out at 2), I apologize for the lack of posting as of late. The westerly winds of fate sent me on some interesting adventures these past couple of weeks. Included were stops in Clearwater Florida, Metropolis Illinois, Grand Island Nebraska, Douglas Wyoming, Cheyenne Wyoming, Denver Colorado, and St Josephs Missouri. I also encountered 45 mile per hour winds in Nebraska and endured 11 bags of stale airline peanuts, 3 flight delays and one surly, unapologetic, bordering on instigative supervisor for Frontier Airlines. But it was a balst and I got to traverse the country back and forth a couple of times, flying with a student. We encountered some low-level clouds and weather on our return trip which made the whole thing a bit more interesting but here's a great shot above the clouds at about 9000 feet somewhere over Kansas.