Casey's Just Sayin'

It's not the end of the world. As children we hear that from our parents. As parents we tell it to our children. As humans we try to say it to ourselves. Everywhere I look I see financial failings: families that lose their homes, their vehicles, their livelihoods. And so I fear. There is no real financial security. What if that happens to me? What if I lose my job and can't find another? What if some unforeseen expense overwhelms our ability to pay? Our home, our vehicles, our lifestyle could vanish. What if, what if, what if? But what if all that did happen? So what? I would still have my love and my kids. They would all still have me. Libraries have free books. The park is free to enjoy. Internet is free all over town. All the stuff in this house is either replaceable or storable in some relative's garage. (My brother has a really really big basement.) It would quite literally not be the end of the world. So being afraid is a waste of energy, a waste of time, and takes

Should so many blogs be so devoted to talking about the blogger? That question has popped up a couple of times over the last couple of days. It's worth considering. Consider the power some bloggers possess. A captive audience seeks out a popular blog, puts it in their regular feed, reads every word, comments almost every single time and then waits excitedly for the e-mail reply. What, in those five hundred words or so, can be said to be worth that kind of devotion? Kinship is a possibility. Maybe to read and relate to a stranger, someone far removed from one's own life, is enough of a thrill to keep doing it again and again, day after day, with dozens of different individuals. Some voyeurism is almost definite. In the illusion of anonymity on the internet, a reader can look into someone's life, peek in the window and see all the blogger's faults, all their failings, all the real weaknesses that aren't discussed verbally amongst the "real" people of the

* You know why they call if golf, don't you? Because all the other four letter words were taken. With that title I'm sure to bring 'em in. I think about 25% of my readers maybe know of a game called golf and less than half of those actually play it. But, without heaping on the golf terminology too much, something happened this weekend that I believe applies to life in general and it just coincidentally occurred on a golf course. Right... Well, as "they" say, on with the show. So, big tournament this weekend. PGA Championship. Worth years and years of recognition and admission to other tournaments. (Golf people, notice how I didn't say exemptions?) Worth lots of money. Worth public and patriotic admiration from your country, wherever that may be. (Germany) After four days, it came down to the last couple of holes and three players. Two of those players ended their 18th hole at 11 under par. That's pretty good. If the guy behind them got a par, he

So I wanted to do something while my love was on the coast with the kids. It needed to be something that took all day, that she would appreciate and that I had the skill to accomplish. I decided to clean the garage. As you can see in this first photo, the garage is a wreck. Not only can you not park a car in there, but you can hardly walk through it all. Piles of stuff everywhere. The long bench on the right is unusable. So I dug in. I have a pretty simple method when it comes to cleaning. Take everything out. Throw away what you can. Put everything back. This is after the first hour. I've made a lot of progress. The lawn is covered with stuff. A neighbor AND the Schwann man both asked me if I was having a yard sale. This is a pretty good place to be. After about 2 1/2 hours. The garage is basically empty. The bench has been cleared. I've thrown a LOT of stuff away and I can see how it's all going to go back together... Mostly. That TV in front there? That