PSoTD

"I looked at that and I thought, 'Oh my that looks like Jesus on the cross.' It was just like wow," she says.

Family and friends agree with her. Her daughter says, "I thought it was pretty cool." But Kelly Ramey's friend, Sue Edelman, sees something different. "I looked again and I thought a horse head."

Kelly says her husband has a special name for it. "He calls him Cheesus."

I had been feeling uninspired about blogging recently until Cheeto Jesus directed me to spread his Gospel of Cheesy Orange Goodness!

If you're looking for the closest place to your barbecue to get your propane tank filled for your barbecue, check this search engine out.

It is amazing that people can claim that going to a location to follow the idiocy of completely moronic dicks is somehow a church.

Being a member of Westboro Baptist Church is basically saying that you have no problem associating with some of the biggest dicks - emotionally and intellectually, not physically - in the world. Do these people tattoo WBC on their forehead? Why not?

At least in the area of faith...

Are Vermonters heathens?

Not exactly, but they are less religious than people in most other states, according to a national poll conducted by the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life.

The U.S. Religious Landscape Survey, which combines results for Vermont and New Hampshire, suggests that people in the two states pray less often, are less likely to attend weekly services and are less likely to believe in God with absolute certainty than are people in the rest of the nation.

Nationally, about 71 percent of the nearly 35,000 people polled said their belief in God or a universal spirit was absolutely certain. In Vermont/New Hampshire, the response was 54 percent — which while still a majority was considerably lower than the national rate.

Results show Vermont/New Hampshire consistently logging the lowest or nearly lowest levels among states in what the pollsters call religious commitment. About 23 percent of the Vermont/New Hampshire respondents attend religious service at least once a week, compared with 39 percent nationally. Thirty-six percent said religion is very important to them, compared to 56 percent nationally.

Nobody else is going to understand this, but I felt like labeling this park in Livermore as I've remembered it since senior year in high school...

On April 28, 2007, I emailed myself this search on wishing wells on Yahoo!.

Why? It's a bit of a long story, exciting with the turgid action of sump pumps and theoretical underground springs flowing beneath houses on their way to the Conodoguinet Creek here in Camp Hill. Short story - I've been planning for quite a while now to dig a hole to place a dry well, complete with varying shallows of rock and gravel sizes, in an effort to get the sometimes thousands of daily gallons of water that my basement sump pump forces into my front yard BACK into the ground, where I believe a spring lies. And over that dry well? Well, back in April 2007, I thought it should be a faux wishing well, although now I think a metal and wood bench will do just fine.

The wishing well isn't really the issue. The issue is the date. It's been over a year now, and here's the progress I've made:

I bought a dry well tub.
I decided on getting a bench rather than a wishing well.

TADA! No wonder I run a small business rather than a industrial empire, with such effort and results. Can you say "put it off" as often as I can? I think you can beat me, but only because I'll procrastinate about saying it.

The real feat that I don't feel like undertaking is the digging. I dug a hole half as deep and half as wide for a Smoke Tree I planted about 7 years ago, about 10 feet away, and it was a pisser. My front yard is clay and shale and bigger freaking rocks, all under a thin veneer of grass. When I see bigger freaking rocks, I mean the kind that are big enough that you decide to stop digging. Too thick and too big in horizontal coverage. That's okay when you're planting a tree. That's not okay when you're spending an afternoon putting in a dry well.

So this post is my marker, my promise to myself that I will do this eventually this summer - or fall. Okay, that's procrastinating, but it's not the kind of procrastinating that would take it into another year, well, unless the weather was bad, and something else came up, and I hurt my knee, and blahtedyblahblah. No, this is the year. I promise.

And yet, I keep thinking it is...