mdtaylor

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  1. They all work for me... This one? http://www.ulcwisconsin.org/html/sponoshiptemp.html Hang tight. Kokigami will be here shortly....
  2. Now I will give you the pitfall of doing a ceremony within the family. This comes from a true story... You perform the ceremony for your step daughter. After several years something goes wrong with marriage. Son-in-law claims marriage is null based on your qualifications. It's defensible, but what a headache... Although it could happen to performing a ceremony to complete strangers it is more likely to happen within families. Good luck with it all. I hope it all works out well and they have a happy marriage for years to come.
  3. READ and UNDERSTAND the Washington State Law regarding marriages. There are a few things you need to do and understand. Then visit a county auditor where the marriage will be performed to introduce yourself and inquire as to procedures. Don't expect them to advise you as to the law as it applies to you. They only know the law as it apples to them. I see no requirement for registration. But, we do have a couple of Washington members here that can give you first hand info.
  4. The answer lies in the states laws. Some states require a marriage certificate and some do not. Often, when a state requires a marriage certificate they also provide one in some form. Often attached to the marriage license. Read the Florida Statutes (link found in the Legal FAQ) and see if it is addressed there. If not, then Florida is a state that does not require a marriage certificate. However, what couple does NOT want a certificate of marriage?
  5. I just corrected the link to the GA state laws. Here is the language. However, there is much more to learn. Pre-marital education, blood tests, etc. etc. etc....
  6. From: Excerpts From The Book Of Life January, 2011 They say that the first time is just an experiment. Anything more than that is a habit, an addiction, or a label. I suppose, then, that I am beyond the experiment phase… or should I say ‘we.’ It’s been several years since we have been on a real vacation so I felt we were due. Oh, we’ve been on trips where I have to drive to a destination, and we may have stayed there for several days or even a week. Then I would have to drive back. That’s not really a vacation. It is more like work away from home. I hate driving. Most of the time I am faced with what many would call an adventure. To me it is Hell. I hate driving. This trip would again be a real vacation where we would fly to our destination. Have a great time, then fly home. Our last real vacation was to Jamaica. A real neat island in the Caribbean and just a stones throw from Cuba. We couldn’t see Cuba from where we were on the island because we were on the Southwest side of the island at a place called Grand Lido Negril and Cuba was North of the island. Of course, that was then, and now it has changed hands (the resort, not the island) and at the time of this writing it is owned by the Breezes organization. I did a short write up for the family after we returned which can be found at http://www.lrim.com/vacation Anyway, once we arrived at the resort we were promptly asked if we wanted a unit on the family side or on the ‘clothing optional’ side. Jackie and I looked at each other and as if we read each other’s mind we simultaneously said ‘clothing optional!’ And thus it began. This year we wanted to again go to the Caribbean. First of all it was just beautiful there, but mainly because it was January and only a fool lies out on the beach in San Francisco in January. So the Caribbean it would be. Now to select which island we would visit. We really didn’t want to go back to Jamaica even though I am a creature of habit. I would have been quite comfortable back in Jamaica but I realized I needed to continue to broaden my horizons some but mostly I wanted to take Jackie to a different destination. Otherwise she might develop my ‘old man’ habits. When I started to search for a destination I remembered the time we had in Jamaica and wondered if I could find a place that would compete with our past experience there. After many hours searching I decided on St. Martin. I remember seeing a segment on National Geographic channel about the 10 most dangerous airports of the world, and St. Martin was like number six. (I dare not mention this to Jackie.) And although the airport was a mild attraction for me it was the beach at Orient Bay that convinced me that we would go there for this vacation. The resort there was a fair size resort. We didn’t want to go to a real small resort. The bigger the better, we thought. And it wasn’t an all-inclusive resort as was the resort on Jamaica, but there were benefits that outweighed the negative of not being an all-inclusive. And this resort (Club Orient) carried the name of the beach so we felt it would be the best there. As you remember, the accommodations we secured on Jamaica were on a clothing optional beach. As it turns out, the entire Club Orient was clothing optional. Not only was the beach clothing optional, but you could dine, shop, take a stroll, or just lay out anywhere on the resort without a stitch on. It was amazing! We were quite excited to once again be going on a real vacation, but slightly ill prepared for the airlines, the airport security, the parking lot, the TSA, and all the other alphabet soup of initials of whatever government agency would try to make our trip miserable. We encountered them on every leg of the trip. I am usually not the frugal person but this year I had to act the part due to the economy. Even we are struggling this year and I suppose an explanation is in order. You see, I have been accumulating frequent flyer miles with Continental. Well, it might have been frequent many years ago and not so much lately. Back in the ‘90s I did have occasion to make numerous business trips and had the forethought to join Continental’s frequent flyer program. In flying for business I was able to accumulate about 90,000 frequent flyer miles. Just enough to fly to Europe first class, it seems. But then, what would a trip to Europe be traveling alone? Anyway, I opted to use the frequent flyer miles for our trip to St. Martin. Total out of pocket cost? $170 in taxes. Total cost in aggravation? About the same as if we had driven! Although Continental does not offer the most direct routes when requesting to fly free I was able to secure the most direct route possible. You see… Continental only services St. Martin through Newark. So, we had to fly about four hours North to catch a plane to fly about five hours South. We left Houston in 40 degree weather to travel to 14 degree weather just to change planes to travel to 74 degree weather. Quite confusing. When the list of flights was on the screen I had to scan about 4 pages passing up the flights that connected through Chicago then Newark, or Dallas to Denver to Newark, or Fayetteville to Charlotte to Newark, or Atlanta to Newark, finally arriving on the last page to discover the Houston to Newark to St. Martin flight. The only other alternative was to fly from Houston to Panama on Continental then from Panama to St Martin on one of their ‘code share’ airlines. ‘Code share’ always scares the bejeebees out of me. Well, I had never been to New York and the Newark airport was just across the river. So, I decided to select a flight that would stay overnight in Newark and give us enough time to see a Broadway show on the way. As much as I would have liked to seen Driving Miss Daisy with James Earl Jones, it appears that some actors actually want a night off and his night would be the night we would be there. Oh well, saving $200 seemed a frugal thing to do. Instead we went to a comedy club. Caroline’s Comedy Club touted itself to be the premier comedy club in New York and even though the talent that night was unknown to me I thought a comedy club would be fun. I suppose it was, if you are 20. I am more of the Bill Cosby fun kind of person. Today’s comedy is apparently filled with not only profanity, but disgusting situational comedy. Even Eddie Murphy was mild compared to this comedienne. She had one of those single name names. Like Beyonce, or Madonna, but I cannot remember her name at the moment. Maybe later. She was a black comedienne. I don’t know off hand if that had any affect on the audience composition but Jackie and I appeared to be one of only four white couples there. We did feel just a little out of place but no one seemed to pay us any mind. I wish James Earl Jones wanted off on Monday instead of Sunday. Everyone raves about New York for some reason. I found it just horrible. It’s not even portrayed accurately in movies. Take downtown Houston, for example, and narrow the streets by half, reducing the lane widths by half, and multiply the number of cars by 4 and the number of taxicabs by 10, and you will just about have New York. Well, I can say that I have now seen New York. I need a tee shirt now. One that says ‘I survived New York,’ or ‘I went to New York, rode a taxi, saw a show, and all I got was this lousy tee shirt.’ I was glad to be leaving Newark. I finally got to see the Statue of Liberty, Wall Street, and Manhattan as we were climbing out and turning South for St. Martin. The St. Martin airport is situated on the beach. And I mean on the beach. From the surf there is maybe 50 feet of sand, then a very narrow two lane road, then the fence at the end of the runway. The aircraft approach so low over the beach that photographs can be taken of people on the beach showing aircraft lower than the tops of their heads! It just seems that way, of course. It’s all done with mirrors I bet. But, a main attraction there is to hang onto the fence as an airliner is departing. Or at least attempt to hang onto the fence. Those that are unsuccessful end up in the surf. I had originally planned for a 4 day trip and had all the arrangements worked out based on that but eventually changed it to a 5 day trip. As a result the only thing that did not get changed was the day that the resort would pick us up at the airport. So, we rented a car there at the airport instead of waiting on renting one at the resort. After all, it’s an island. You can’t get lost… Halfway from the airport to the resort we could see the traffic backed up at least 2 miles going up the mountain so we opted on taking the route clockwise around the island instead of the recommended counter clockwise route. What difference would it make? We wanted to see the entire island anyway. Now was as good a time as any to go through Marigot instead of Phillipsburg. Needless to say, the roads on St. Martin island are less than perfect. In fact, they appeared to be about half as wide as the roads we left behind in New York, and in a state of repair of those found in most ‘second’ world countries. Despite having spent the majority of my life within the confines of the U. S. we would eventually arrive at Club Orient safely and with about 4 hours of light remaining for the day. The room was ready and the first of my surprises for Jackie was waiting for us. After about 9 hours of travel time from Houston to Newark to St. Martin, and another hour on unfamiliar roads, I knew a massage would be just the thing for us both. Was I ever right! It was just the thing that we both needed to get loosened up after that flight. Immediately following there was a wine and cheese get together for everyone at the resort. We had to at least look relaxed for that even if it would be our first encounter with a clothing optional event other than a beach. By now you are saying ‘what is all this baloney about ‘clothing optional? What you are describing is a nudist resort, isn’t it?’ Well, like so many other things today terminology changes. Stewardess’ are now Flight Attendants, Maids are Domestic Engineers, and nudists are now naturists. It is a Naturist resort. Regardless of its label no one paid attention to our ‘less than perfect’ bodies and we had a great time. First thing the next morning we had to make a run to the resorts general store for a few things. Coffee, breakfast rolls, a few staples, and some sun tan lotion! Then it was the beach. I was content to simply lay on the beach listening to the surf relaxing in an attempt to simply forget about the rest of the world for a few days. Of course, I did have a plan and I had to try and keep on track. I really wanted Jackie to try scuba diving and the locals on the beach had a ‘Intro to SCUBA’ program where they took someone out in just about 15 feed of water and taught them just enough to breath under water for about 20 minutes. You could only go with an instructor but that is about all that was needed. I was certified back in ’97 but since Jackie had never before been diving she would have to be accompanied by the instructor. So we made it to the dive shop and were fitted with wet suits and gear and proceeded to board a boat that would take us on a 5 minute trip out to Green Key, and island within the confines of Orient Bay. However, being January, even in the Caribbean the wave action tossed the boat around pretty good. (And those that know me are already starting to laugh.) I was doing just fine until the crew discovered a sailboarder had taken a spill in the bay and was in need of assistance. We stopped to render aid to the fallen surfer, picking up his gear and taking him aboard to deliver him back to the shore. Well, the 60 seconds or so that we stopped to get him on board was enough to render me completely disabled due to seasickness. Once the boat was ashore to deliver the sailboarder I had to excuse myself from the remainder of the dive. Jackie would go ahead with the dive and return with a less than excited look about her. She wasn’t really impressed. Oh well, this surprise didn’t go over so well. Maybe the next will work out better. The next day found us back on the beach with liberal amounts of sun tan lotion to protect those areas that have not seen the sun since I was 3. This day would be one of total relaxation and no surprises. The water sports center of the resort offered free snorkeling gear and Jackie found that she preferred that over scuba, so she took a stroll down and obtained the gear, returning by way of snorkeling. It was probably five or six hundred yards from our lounge chairs to the water sports center so the walk down and the snorkeling back actually took an hour or so. During this time I was supposed to be timing myself so that neither front nor back faced the sun for more that 15 minutes at a time. Although I thought I was doing ok, I soon discovered that there are parts of the body that was just not meant for tanning. At least not mine. Jackie finally made it back from the water sports center with her gear and a huge starfish that she found on the way back. We lounged for a while longer and had a few drinks from the convenient bar and grill that was a mere twenty steps or so from our chosen spot on the beach. Our drinks of choice were virgin daiquiris or margaritas. The fruity drinks were just the thing for the beach. As the evening drew near Jackie needed to return the snorkeling gear to the water sports center prior to closing and she wanted to snorkel back so I gave her about a half hour head start, watching her snorkel down the beach, and then followed a bit later. I managed to reach the water sports center just as she was exiting the water. I had thought to bring her a towel and a visor to shade from the sun a bit. It was just about time to think about returning to our room to get ready for dinner. Well, getting ready for dinner was simply taking a quick shower to get all the sand out of your hair. It’s not like you had to decide what to wear… The restaurant was fabulous. Although it was an open air restaurant the moderate Caribbean temperatures kept it a comfortable 75 degrees even at night and even with nothing on at all. There was entertainment every night and the food was excellent. But, since we were not in an all-inclusive resort the meals were charged to our room and the prices on the menu was all in Euros and not dollars. So, that 10 € meal actually cost us $13. Just something we had to keep in mind, although I was not pinching pennies on this trip since I saved about $1300 on the flights. Some day Jackie is going to get me to dance with her. Not this trip. We awakened the next morning to a startling discovery. It shouldn’t have come as any surprise at all. After all, who goes to a beach destination and does not expect a little sun burn? But I have to tell you, that snorkeling five or six hundred yards really allow the sun to do just exactly what the sun does. And it did it so well! Jackie looked like a white Valentines day cookie with red icing on the back side. I had to get my glasses out to read the fine print but there it was just as plain as day. SPF-3. Jackie picked it out. Well, after locating some SPF-30 for the bulk of our now tender bodies we went on that futile search for some SPF-500 for those even more tender areas. Back to the beach I say. I have not yet forgotten about my world. The next surprise was more of a ‘she wouldn’t expect this of me’ type of activity instead of a typical surprise. We set out once again in the car to the other side of the island to locate a narrow road which led up the tallest mountain on the island. Standing 424 meters (1,391 feet) Pic Paradis is the highest point of the island and offers some fantastic views. Along the road there was the occasional ‘lookout point’ where we had to stop and take a few photos at each. The road was in rather poor condition and I later learned that it doubled as a hiking trail. I think most all roads on the island doubled as hiking trails. In fact, they were likely primarily hiking trails and used as roads as a secondary function. We also made a few of the shops along the main roads in Phillipsburg and the cruise line docks, as well as a casino. We thought we would give the Flamingo Casino a try as it had the most recognizable name. Jackie is not much of a gambler so we didn’t stay long. Just long enough for her to win $9 and me to lose $20. The Flamingo Casino in St. Martin is simply not the impressive Flamingo Hotel and Casino of Las Vegas fame. We stopped by the Marigot Fire Station on the way through. (Jackie insisted.) We were fortunate enough to get there on a day they had chosen to do some rappelling training. I got a good look at the equipment and the one thing I have to say is that those complainers in the Montgomery Fire Department have absolutely nothing to complain about! I’m sure I am making this sound as if St. Martin is a real third world country. Not at all. In fact, we saw the one thing that I have never seen in the states other than on T.V. A Segway. You know, one of those two wheeled personal transportation devices where the wheels are side by side and you stand on it. I’ve never seen how one operates other than on that T.V. show Royal Pains. Anyway, we both did a double take when we say that. We were driving at the time and nearly needed that extra insurance coverage I wisely opted for at the car rental agency. We returned taking the same route as on the way down here, but the return trip did not include an overnight layover. We left St. Martin at 1:00 in the afternoon and arrived in Houston just after midnight. It was some trip but I would do it again in a heartbeat. In fact, I have already begun to search for our next vacation. The first criteria? A clothing optional beach! So it appears that we are now beyond the experimental stage. We have started looking for places in Texas to visit on short mini trips. We found many places we could go, the most famous of those being Hippy Hollow right nearby in Austin. And we have discovered that there are discounts to member of certain organizations. So, now we are card carrying members of the Naturist Society. No longer are we closet nudists. We are naturists and we found a great way to have a great time on vacations. Things are looking up. Copyright, 2011. All rights reserved. This article may not be reproduced without advanced written authorization from both the author and Google.
  7. First of all, Texas is NOT a debtors state. You cannot be put in jail for the inability to pay a debt (unlike Louisiana and perhaps some other states.) Texas can prevent one from obtaining or renewing certain licenses for such things a child support, but not other debts. Any debt to his ex-wife would, I think, not carry any jail time unless there was some contempt of court charge that has been ignored. And, until recently, Texas has not had alimony so it is unlikely that the debt stems from a failed marriage. It is more likely some sort of settlement. But without knowing the true story with all the details there is nothing anyone could better advise, other than consult with an attorney. If he approaches a US Embassay in the attempt to renew a passport AND there is a warrant for his arrest that can be found then he will be held until extradition is attempted. Of course, that may be declined depending on the severity of the warrant. Attorney...or, he is a man without a country.
  8. The law is pretty short and simple in this regard. The answer is yes. But if this is the only reason for ordination....
  9. Very nice. If you changed it slightly it would be less inviting of a target by those that would disagree with you... "I am my God."
  10. December 2, 2010 So, immediately you say, "a restaurant review? You?" I'm entitled. I may not be the foremost authority on food, preparation, or presentation, but I know what I like. I know when the food tastes good. I know when I am pleased with the service. What else is there? So we (yes, today I have a partner on my travels) start out, making sure we have everything necessary. And even though I always tend to forget something (see previous article) we hastily load up and start out on our journey. And a journey it shall be. You see, I decided to review a rather unknown restaurant just a little farther from the house than your typical evening dinner out. We decide to make it a two or three day trip and spend the first night at my sister's house in Canyon City, about three hours away. We begin by making the first gas station so that we need not be bothered by fuel on this first leg of the trip, which was rather uneventful. About halfway there we did pass the exit to Kyle, and remembering my prior experiences in Kyle we decided to avoid that exit. We arrive at my sister's with plenty of daylight remaining and ample time for socializing. After a modest amount of exploration around the area, and wanting to get an early start the next morning we head to bed plenty early. And just so that we would have something to write about my sister's house decided to contribute some material of its own. They have a rather large grandfather clock situated just outside the bedroom door where we were to sleep and every fifteen minutes it decided to let loose with a melody that lasted about fourteen minutes (or so it seemed) at a volume which did not disturb me, due to my failing hearing, but kept Jackie up all night. It seemed the logical solution would be to close the door, which we did, but then revealed the next of our disturbing events. The alarm system control panel was set to glow constantly. And it was bright! So, either we tolerated the light or the sound. I was quite happy with either but Jackie never could make up her mind and simply never got any sleep all night. I guess draping a dry wash cloth over the alarm panel was just too easy of a solution.. We got an early start the next morning as expected and stopped off at the local donut shop for a cup of java and something to settle our stomachs for the long trip ahead of us. I decided for a cinnamon roll and a dozen holes and Jackie requested a hot dog kolache without the pastry part of it. Just a hot dog? Who eats just a hot dog for breakfast? En route to our destination, somewhere beyond Sonora or so, but not yet to Fort Stockton we came upon an area where all you could see on the horizon was windmills. Not the Holland style windmills nor the water well type of structure, but those new electric generating windmills. In this part of the country there are multiple plateaus situated above valleys, or even flat areas, and the plateaus are simply lined with these tall white electric generating windmills. It rather reminded me of all the aborigines lined up on the ridges in the movie Quigley Down Under. For as far as you could see there were windmills. From the south horizon to the west, and continuing on to the north, nothing but windmills. Now I realize where all those propeller blades you see passing through town are headed. I remember wondering why I never see any of the pedestals on trucks headed this way. Maybe they are manufactured elsewhere and thus do not pass through my neck of the woods. Additionally we began seeing more than just hills and high plateaus. We were now seeing small mountains in the distant. Mountains that would soon grow to epic heights to those of us that have spent our lives in east Texas, but still referred to as hills by those in Colorado, Montana, and others. As we traveled into those mountains I could feel my truck struggling to get up and around those hills. In fact, it seemed that even though we were going downhill it struggled. I doubt that it was the thinning air as fuel injected engines are not supposed to be affected by altitude changes. After setting up the GPS I could see that even though it looked like we were often travelling downhill we were, in fact, steadily increasing in altitude. It actually sickened me slightly, but then, a lot of things do. It was almost like being in the fun house at the carnival. I knew we were getting to West Texas when we started seeing towns that have been mentioned in John Wayne movies. El Dorado, Blanco, Ozona, Sweetwater, and several others. It took all I could to keep from taking a side trips to each one just to be the standard tourist. We arrived at our destination of Sierra Blanca, Texas at about four in the afternoon. I would have thought for sure that we would be simply wasted after the long day on the road but we actually felt pretty good, so we decided to explore just a little. Ok, by now you have come to realize that this really isn't about a restaurant review, haven't you? We did have another reason for making this trip out west. Jackie had purchased some property out this way some years back and this would be my first trip out here. Of course, it was mule deer season and breaking out the 270 for a deer or the 204 for a predator of some sort was not out of the question. From the hotel where we were staying for the night to the property turned out to be about 60 miles. She didn't mention that. Of course, I found out that a trip to the grocery store in these parts is in excess of 70 miles one way most of the time. We arrived in the area of the property shortly before sunset only to discover that the fall rains had washed out not only one, but two areas of the road just before her property. Not wanting to deal with it all this evening we decided to abandon the property viewing for the evening and head into town for a bite to eat before turning in. We decided on one of the only two places in town to eat, La Familia Restaurant and Gift Shop. Well the gift shop portion of the place was already closed so we sat down at a table near the register. The only other occupied table was just next to where we sat. We were promptly greeted by a young Hispanic female. Jackie ordered a fajita enchilada while I decided on the Mexican Plate so that I would have a sampling of several things. The young lady took our order then visited the next table, presumably to check on their drinks or whatever. The waitress handed one of the customers at the table something that looked like a check, but instead of the couple heading to the register to pay they passed it right up and headed into the kitchen to prepare our order. Turns out it was the cooks sitting at the next table. Jackie's order was ready a couple of minutes prior to mine and sat on the counter under the heat lamps for those minutes. I was seated to where I could watch the cook at the grill prepare my meal. On several occasions she took a squeeze bottle of what looked like oil and squirted it not only on the grill itself, but also on absolutely everything she cooked. But, I was open minded and willing to reserve any comments until I had tried it, which finally did come. Jackie proceeded to unwrap her enchilada to find nothing but fajita meat wrapped in a corn tortilla. No rice or beans. She had to request hot sauce (we did not get any chips & salsa) and sour cream to dress it up some. The sour cream came in a small package which actually made us feel a little better as the cleanliness of the place was rather short of the local gas station restrooms. My meal consisted of a Chile rellenos, two cheese enchiladas, taco, rice, and beans. The taco meat had no real seasoning in it at all so it was not much more than lettuce and tomato in a crunchy shell with some chewy something on the side. Having tolerated the taco I moved on to the chile rellenos. Now, all the chili rellenos I have had in the past was filled with seasoned hamburger meat or something. This one came to me flat leaving my to wonder what was waiting for me inside. As it turned out it had no filling in it at all. My chile rellenos was simply a fried pepper. Next was the cheese enchiladas. How could someone mess up a cheese enchilada? Cold is one way, and cold it was. As it turns out the beans and rice was the best thing found at La Familia Restaurant and Gift Shop. See? It is a restaurant review after all. The next morning we headed out to the property with sufficient help to get all the way to the property. The local 'guide' that accompanied us seemed well enough equipped to handle most any situation but even he had to manually fill in a ditch or two just to get to the property. Then he decides to drive off into a huge ditch and get completely stuck so that I had to break out my chains to get him free. It was about that point that we decided to simply walk the remainder of the way and avoid any further chance of losing our transportation completely. Many times, when walking around on my property, I dream about a variety of things. This particular property reminded me of the many John Wayne movies I have seen over the years. One specific one, in fact. McClintock! One certain passage in that movie applied to this property. As I recall it goes something like this… "This land hates the plow. Serves pretty good for cattle. But you just can't make it go on the Mesa verde." I really believe this about Jackie's property. Even the mesquite has better sense than to try to survive there. Tumbleweed is obviously formed when bushes intentionally chew themselves off at the ground to free themselves so that the wind might blow it to another county. There was not much there but rock. Lots of rock, limestone, talc (or whatever talc is made from) and sand. There was sand everywhere. On everything. In everything. Around everything. There was sand in the air. So much so, that you could not see more than a mile or so. It didn't appear as a widespread sand storm, but then, I have never seen a sandstorm short of the movies. We did see several herds of pronghorn antelope, but no deer, although we saw evidence of both in abundance. Being a week into deer season explains why they are keeping a low profile. Not wanting to be left alone out on the 'mesa verde' we decided to leave once our guide's truck was freed. There was no communications available at all. Cell service was non existent and if we were to get stuck ourselves we would be sort of on our own unless the amateur radio that I had brought along could raise someone local. We decided to go on into El Paso for the remainder of the day just for sightseeing. There is not much in El Paso, and if it were not for Fort Bliss we would not have been at all entertained the entire afternoon. As it was we ended up in New Mexico for lunch just to say we had been there this trip. We started back early the next morning and was over 100 miles into our trip before we found anything open to get breakfast or even a cup of morning coffee. We drove all the way back not even stopping at my sister's. It took an entire day for me to recover from this trip and we both decided that the next trip out we are going to fly. I think we would rather enjoy the pat down by the TSA instead of the intolerable 700+ miles in the pickup. From Excerpts From The Book Of Life Copyright 2010
  11. November 20, 2010 Some time ago, I don't mean years, or months, or even weeks; about 10 days ago Dad stopped receiving his newspaper. I won't mention which because they undoubtedly have much more money to put towards legal fees than do I. The day I discovered this I had just returned from a weekend home from my duties. You see, I happily moved in with my parents when it because obvious that they had become unable to properly care for themselves. I spend weeks at a time there with the occasional weekend or week off to go home to… visit. I have three sisters who gladly relieve me at least two and sometimes three weekends a month, and again at least a full week or ten days a month. I didn't completely move in. I sort of live out of a suitcase and occupy the same old room that I lived in some forty years ago growing up. Moving on, I returned home to learn that dad had not received his daily newspaper for the last three days, so a call to the circulation department was in order. Now, this particular newspaper is not of the local variety. Although we live in a rural area and the nearest town has a publication of sorts, it is not a daily paper. Dad therefore relies on the paper from the great metropolis that is about forty miles distant, but delivers daily. Well, we both thought. My call to the papers main switchboard was answered by a rather male sounding voice, which in itself, was a surprise. I don't know why. I suppose it may be because it has been many years since I was actually out in the workforce and exposed to what normal really is. I shouldn't be all that surprised, after all, I do have access to the internet and am not completely cut off from the trends affecting our country. In any event the pleasant young man transferred my call to the circulation department whereupon I spent several minutes monitoring my own circulation while I listened to that recorded voice, "All customer service agents are presently assisting other customers. Please continue to hold and someone will be right with you." Finally after what seemed like hours I hear a different recording. Progress.. "We are experiencing a high volume of calls. Please use our automated system. If you experienced difficulties receiving your newspaper, press 1." *Beep* "If you did not receive your newspaper today, press 1." *Beep* "Please enter your ten digit telephone number, starting with the area code, followed by the pound sign." *Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep* And after all that… "Please hold for a customer service representative." To my surprise, a person then answered the phone right away. I guess all that was just a way to kill some time while an agent became available to talk to me. It didn't really seem to do anything because the agent then had me dictate all that information to her again. I hate that. Why make us wear out our telephone keypads pushing in all those digits when they are going to ask anyway? These new phone are not made by Western Electric any more. They wear out faster than batteries in kids toy now days. But after all that I got a pleasant "Thank you, we will take care of this right away." That's it? Seemed easy enough, once I got to talk to a real person. I was happy, or so I thought. Day two. Dad makes his usual early morning sojourn down to the highway to check the mail….and his newspaper; which of course, was not there. Another day and again I have to watch him return to the house empty handed. Besides from that I patiently sit and listen to the events of the trip. About the neighbor's cattle and how the cows leave their young unattended (like the hawks are gonna swoop down and carry them off,) about how little they have to eat, and then analyze the trash he picked up in the ditch to bring home. Its trash, Dad, let's put it in the trash. Well, to this day that trash is still on his desk. He is still wondering exactly what it is and why someone would throw it away. "We are experiencing heavy call volume and all customer service agents are assisting other customers. Please continue to hold or to use our automated system. For English please press 1." All I want is for Dad to have his newspaper. That way, when he returns he will quietly sit and read his newspaper during breakfast. "Yes sir. I'll send a message to the carrier and we will get this cleared up right away." Day three. Dad makes his usual early morning sojourn down to the highway to check the mail….and his newspaper; which of course, was not there. Another day and again I have to watch him return to the house empty handed. Besides from that I patiently sit and listen to the events of the trip. About the neighbor's cattle and how the cows leave their young unattended, about how little they have to eat, and then analyze the trash he picked up in the ditch to bring home. Its trash, Dad, let's put it in the trash. "We are experiencing heavy call volume and all customer service agents are assisting other customers. Please continue to hold or to use our automated system. For English please press 1." Is there an option if I want to speak to a supervisor? I leave my phone number for the carrier to call. I have hopes of a newspaper by Thursday… Day four. Dad makes his usual early morning sojourn down to the highway to check the mail….and his newspaper; which of course, was not there. Another day and again I have to watch him return to the house empty handed. Besides from that I patiently sit and listen to the events of the trip. About the neighbor's cattle and how the cows leave their young unattended, about how little they have to eat, and then analyze the trash he picked up in the ditch to bring home. Its trash, Dad, let's put it in the trash. "We are experiencing heavy call volume and all customer service agents are assisting other customers. Please continue to hold or to use our automated system. For English please press 1." Any chance I can talk to a supervisor? "Please hold." Finally, someone that will give me the attention that this is due. I have hopes. "Sir, my supervisor is unable to take the call at the moment but I gave her your phone number. She is really good about returning phone calls. You should hear from her today." Day five. Dad makes his usual early morning sojourn down to the highway to check the mail….and his newspaper; which of course, was not there. Another day and again I have to watch him return to the house empty handed. Besides from that I patiently sit and listen to the events of the trip. About the neighbor's cattle and how the cows leave their young unattended, about how little they have to eat, and then analyze the trash he picked up in the ditch to bring home. Its trash, Dad, let's put it in the trash. "We are experiencing heavy call volume and all customer service agents are assisting other customers. Please continue to hold or to use our automated system. For English please press 1." By now you are wondering why I am wasting time with this antiquated communications system called the telephone. Why not simply get on the internet, look up the papers site, click on the 'Contact Us' link and be done with this nonsense of daily talks to the customer service recordings? You know? I fool around with designing pages such as this. I mean, after all, I have been in the hospitality business for longer than I care to admit, and I have contact us pages for customers to communicate with me. So, I recognize a well planned contact us page. So I did use their contact form on about day two. That day all went as planned. "I didn't get a newspaper. Circulation was no help. Can you help me get a newspaper?" No worries, right. The next day I fill out the same form and I got a little long winded about how I had called circulation, then sent in the contact us form, explained that I was not all that hard to find, and listed the previous 'case number' provided in the email confirmation sent to me to acknowledge receipt of the previous days form. "Your form contains too many characters. Please edit your text and limit the number of characters used to 150." What? 150 characters? How can you legitimately complain about anything in 150 characters? So that day's complaint was about how the form did not allow enough room to adequately complain. Day six. It is now Saturday. Dad makes his usual early morning sojourn down to the highway to check the mail….and his newspaper; which of course, was not there. Another day and again I have to watch him return to the house empty handed. Besides from that I patiently sit and listen to the events of the trip. About the neighbor's cattle and how the cows leave their young unattended, about how little they have to eat, and then analyze the trash he picked up in the ditch to bring home. Its trash, Dad, let's put it in the trash. "We are experiencing heavy call volume and all customer service agents are assisting other customers. Please continue to hold or to use our automated system. For English please press 1." By now I had learned the keystroke sequence and entered them in without even listening to the recordings, and I get a live person. "Mr. Taylor, has anyone called you back yet?" Oh, yes, of course. But I was just calling to say thank you….NOT. Not only has no one called me back, but I still do not have a newspaper! So, I ask the customer service rep (I really don't know why they call it customer service if they cannot provide any service) for the carrier's mother's name so that I can call her to see if I can get a newspaper by Sunday. I never got to speak to a supervisor that day and the call ended quite soon afterwards. Later, and not very much later I receive a call from a nice sounding lady. "Mom?", I ask. Well, no, but it was the local distributor. She was quite pleasant and explained that the carrier was indeed delivering a paper to what they thought was the correct address, and after a long conversation about how to recognize the correct location to deliver our paper I get a promise, and a phone number. Well, things are looking up. I have a real local phone number to contact the actual local distributor in the event I do not receive a paper tomorrow. I really think that if we don't get a paper the distributor will actually bring it out herself. Wishful thinking. Tomorrow is another day and I think if I hear one more time about how little the neighbors cows have to eat I'm gonna feed them cows a newspaper distributor. From: Excerpts from the Book of Life Copyright 2010
  12. November, 2010 Well, for 2010 at least, the first opportunity for deer hunting has come and gone. Again this year my father has decided that he just didn’t have the ‘want to’ to get out and go. Not to be deterred I was able to find a last minute hunting partner. Having property suitable for deer hunting is somewhat similar to being rich. You are never without ‘friends’ wanting to tag along for the hunt. But as it were, my friends really are just that. True friends that would make sacrifices for you. This time he sacrificed a good portion of his monthly income so that we could all eat this weekend. Of course, we could simply eat what we shoot but I made a promise that I would start that diet next week, so the security of knowing we would have food was a welcome treat. When Mike brings the food it is usually enough for an army and packed with home made things like extra large pans of enchiladas, made my his wife of course. But we would not have enchiladas this trip. More on that later… And as is usual I left the homestead not having everything I needed. Speaking of ‘homestead’, I could write volumes, but that is well beyond the scope of this article. Suffice it to say that these days I stay confused about just where the homestead actually is. Anyway, I always forget something and this year was no different. Normally I do not use any of these fancy calls or rattle bags, or what have you. Of course I do use a grunt call that aids in stopping a wary buck in his tracks giving a hunter an opportunity to take his time while leveling his gun for a steady aim. But this year I thought I would give those artificial calls a try. Although I had a puny set of horns I cut off a little 6 point a few years back I decided to purchase a set of rattle horns from an online distributor. The price was right, and if it called up even one unsuspecting buck from out of the woods I would consider it a worthwhile investment. At the same time, in order to meet the minimum purchase on the site I purchased a doe bleat call. You know what that is…it’s a little box about the size of a ring box that when turned over it makes a sound like a doe bleat. Good for other things too. Like frightening the UPS driver that delivers to me. I’m sure he believed without a doubt his truck was haunted. Getting on with it, I left that box of rattle horns and that doe bleat back in Dayton. There must have been more that I forgot. Two items just does not seem enough. More on those rattle horns later… I was sure I got an early start this year. After all, my sister surprised me with arriving early to take over my parent sitting duties and I was able to leave much earlier than expected. Still, it was after dark before I arrived at ‘The Bodine.’ And for those of you not all that familiar with my family history, ‘The Bodine’ gets it’s name from the original land owner, J. Bodine, of Abstract 1283 of the survey of Texas land completed by the G&BN Company in Leon County, Texas, and where my family put down its Texas roots. Somehow the name has stuck and the entire family knows the property simply as The Bodine. And I only own a small portion of it, having purchased it from my uncle on my fathers side some years ago. The trip up was quite boring as is the norm, with the highway congested with hunters on their way to their own deer leases. En route I spotted about ten or twelve deer within rock chucking distance of the road. As it turned out it would be the most deer I would see on the entire trip. More on that later… Having arrived I proceeded to get the utilities on and the cabin somewhat cleared out so we would have room to move around. I seem to store things inside in between trips so that the locals don’t relieve me of any extra things left outside. As it was rather dark, the first of the utilities was the outside lighting. I have one of those lights that when you turn it on it takes a half hour to warm up before it is bright enough to put out more light than a key chain flashlight. While it was warming up I proceeded to unload my personal things from the back of the pickup. You know, the usual things. Ice chest, suitcase, boots, gun.. where’s my gun? My gun was here. I know I put it in the truck before leaving. Let’s see. I stopped to get gas. That was the only stop. I used a credit card at the pump to pay so I never left the side of the truck while filling up. But the gun just was not where I put it! So, here I am thinking, could someone have lifted it out of my truck while my back was turned at the Valero? At a long red light? It was a nice Remington 700 synthetic with a Nikon 3x9 50mm scope on it. And in a hard case too! I really liked that gun and was really ticked off about losing it and could only hope that I just somehow forgot to put it in the truck and it was resting comfortably back in Dayton. After that I had to rest a minute and allow the nerves to calm a bit, so I went in and ran the water some. If you have ever done any hunting at all you are very aware of the requirement to get the water running through the pipes before you expect to use it. Not only to get the stale water out but in my case to simply make sure all the air is out of the pipes before I turn the electricity on to the hot water heater. There wouldn’t be much else that I would hate to have to do than to have to change out the heating element on that hot water heater. It's situated up above the bathroom and has quite a bit of tools and left over materials from the cabin construction all around it. It would be a major event just to gain access to the thing. Well now that the water has run sufficiently smelling up the cabin with putrid water and the electricity to the heater is on I decide to vacate the building and resume unloading my truck. Now that the area light has warmed up it is finally bright enough outside to see around and finish unloading and getting stuff inside. Satellite box, couple of gallons of extra drinking water (remember the pipes?), heaters for the deer stands, gun, extra batteries and flashlights. Wait a minute. Gun? That wasn’t there a while ago. Where did that come from? As it turned out the gun, in its hard case had migrated from near the tailgate to come to a final resting place up under the gull wing tool box on my truck. I’ll never know how it was able to navigate the rest of the gear in the bed of my truck, but it did. I’m just glad I’m going crazy and some thief is not a couple of hundred richer as a result of some unsuspecting pawn broker. At least now I will be competently armed in the morning. No way I am going to miss with my trusty 7mm. More on that later… Mike and his son were going to be running late due to an evening baseball game and I didn’t expect them to drive up until morning. And he was right on about the time. About 4:30 am I see the lights of his truck coming up the road. He didn’t bring his Gator this trip so we would double up and all ride in the Mule, which I hadn’t even bothered to unload the previous night. His first order of business was breakfast. At least he has his priorities right. For some reason deer hunters must have breakfast. Ignore the fact that we have a total of five occasions throughout the year we even have breakfast (and those seem to be for the spouses benefit, not ours,) when on the deer lease it is just a requirement that you eat breakfast. It must be something along the lines of never go grocery shopping when you are hungry or something. You just don’t go deer hunting unless you have had a good breakfast. Often though, a good breakfast is defined as a tortilla with a link of venison sausage topped with spicy mustard. I guess men and women just have differing ideas about what constitutes a ‘good’ breakfast. Today, however, it was bacon and eggs with biscuits. And the requisite coffee, naturally. I don’t do milk, and Mike’s son does not do coffee, so he was content with a Dr. Pepper for breakfast. Or was it a Diet Coke? It doesn’t matter, really, it only serves to remind me of one more thing I forgot this trip. More on that later… After breakfast we had plenty of time to check on the weather, temperature, and to choose which deer stand we would each occupy this morning. Now, you have to understand something about deer hunters. They would rather have a root canal than to use a different deer stand than the one they shot that trophy buck out of last year. So, it was a short discussion. Transportation was another matter completely. While Mike and his son (Ok, yeah, he has a name) Jordan was cleaning up the breakfast dishes I went out to unload the Mule and pack it for the short trip into the woods. Now, my cabin sits atop a hill. Not much of one mind you, but a hill nonetheless. It is probably a quarter of a mile to the road and no more than a fifteen foot rise in elevation, but it is gradual all the way from the road up to my cabin. And when I parked the truck was situated facing uphill with the trailer behind. You can probably see where this is going already. Unloading the Mule I simply let off of the winch a little allowing the Mule to be move aft just enough to remove the rear restraints. Then I set the parking brake and let off the winch a little more in order to unhook it from the forward tether. Are you with me yet? Then I simply let off of the parking brake and give it a shove and let it gently roll off of the trailer. The slight tilt of the trailer hitch on the bumper gives it just enough of a slope for me to be able to get it rolling by hand. And roll it did. I never knew just how much area that slow-to-warm-up light illuminated, until now. I can tell you without a doubt it does not reach beyond the distance traveled by a rouge Mule in November. I hear the door to the cabin open and Mike asks if I am ready to go. "In just a minute," I say. "I’ll be right back…" The short trip to the first stand was uneventful. Well, as much as can be with two big adults and a twelve year old on a two seat Mule. Fortunately I would be the first off and Mike and Jordan would continue on to a stand about three quarters of a mile distant. I can’t speak much to the events that occurred with them. Suffice it to say that Jordan was not happy that he was not able to take a shot at that doe. After all, it was just last week that he could shoot at the does. What difference does one week make? So they pass on the does and have to watch as several groups of hogs devour all the corn distributed for the deer. I mean, they were not hog hunting, right? Over in my area I hear a few gunshots just barely after day break. I don’t mean one over there; another there; and finally one over there. I mean three very closely spaced shots where the marksman (sic) was either operating that bolt at the speed of a scalded jackrabbit or using an AR-15. Just how many shots does it take to kill a deer? Was it running? Who in their right mind shoots a deer on the run? Never mind. I forget this is Leon County. It must have ran in front of three other hunters with ARs because those rapid shots in succession seemed to happen several times. Oh well. Much stranger things happen here. I decide it is time to try out my rattle horns in hopes of drawing out one of those running bucks. Yeah, I did forget the new ones obviously made out of some polymer or something, but I still had the authentic short horns of that small 6-point from a few years back. Better than nothing I thought, and began what I assumed would be the rhythmic sound of buck fighting despite never having heard it in person. They were small and quite difficult to get the small horns to click together effectively. After about an hour of not seeing anything I decided that the sound I was making must not be right so I gave it a rest. Figured it was time for a nap anyway. Well about a half hour into my nap I see a huge shadowy figure moving about in the trees beyond my feeder. Soon, a rather large black boar hog can be seen moving about as if to decide if it was safe to come out into the open. It took quite a while before he consumed the corn on the ground that had found its way into the edge of the woods and was forced to either give up or come out in search of more of that golden candy. But he would be safe. Not because I was deer hunting but because old boar hogs are just not fit to eat. He would stay there for the better part of an hour eating away like a pig. I finally decided to find out how the hog would react to my technique of the rattle horns. Not more than a millisecond after that first click of the horns that hog left a dust cloud that obscured my view of the feeder. Almost at the same time I finally get to see what I came here to see. From my right, coming up a road, well, trail, was a lone doe making her way towards the feeder. Apparently the hog had left a generous amount of corn on the ground because I watched that doe feed for more than an hour. Soon mother nature took charge and I have to disturb that doe with my movements. To take care of business I would have to stand up, open the door of the stand, step outside, then relieve myself off the steps of the stand about seven feet to the ground. There would be no way I would be able to keep from disturbing that doe while she snacked under the feeder, but I was willing to give it a try. Choosing my times carefully I was able to stand up and open the door to the feeder, which by the way, provided a nice wall between myself and the doe, and step out onto the top stair without being seen. I removed my gloves which generally gets in the way of doing what I was preparing to do. It was at this time that I noticed the damage that those rattle horns had been doing. Being a rather small set of horns they were generally clumsy to operate and I often found myself rattling my fingers into the horns rather then rattling the horns together. The cold weather basically prevented me from feeling the horns as they clanged against my cold fingers leaving a plethora of bruises on and about both hands. But I couldn’t be concerned with that now. My main objective was to take care of the business at hand, so to speak. Occasionally I would peek back to that doe, surprised to see that she was not paying me any attention at all. Sparing you any further details I completed my assignment and began the arduous task of returning to my seat undetected. I leaned over ever so slowly to have a peek one last time through the space between the door and the stand. Although I was amazed that she was still there, she was looking in my direction. Or staring in my direction like she had just seen the first human in her life. It’s not like I was walking around or anything. I was well hidden behind the door and only my boots could be seen. Knowing that I could not move my feet without taking the chance of her running off I remained still peeking only occasionally to see if she had given up on me and resumed her feeding. It took several minutes before she decided that I was of no threat to her and continued feeding. I then eased around and started a graceful dance to return to my seat within the confines of the stand. I was just about there and was reaching for the door to again secure it closed when I saw him. Off to the left, where I had least expected to see anything, there was a fine 8-point buck watching me as I moved about trying to get back into my stand unnoticed. Of course I froze thinking this would fool this buck into, I don’t know what. Thinking I was a limb or something? Right… So I said to myself, “Hello Mr. Buck. How about you stay right there while I get my gun? Are you ready? “ In just a minute," the buck says. "I’ll be right back…" Although the cloud of dust left by that buck was a might smaller than the one left by the hog, it hurt worse. At least I learned not one, but two things this hunting session. Rattle horns make for an excellent hog repellent, and Neil Shulman just made up that scene in the movie. From: Excerpts From the Book of Life Copyright 2010
  13. You have to read the Indiana laws (found in a pinned topic of this forum) or maybe you can take the word of another Indiana minister. Personally, I'd first read the law, then ask questions, and finally consider the advice of other ministers in Indiana. While you do that I'm gonna refresh my reading on Indiana law so that I can help answer your questions.. Read specifically about Who may marry, the marriage license procedures and certificates, and your authority to solemnize marriages. Then, contact the Clerk of the Circuit Court and just ask of the proper procedures to handle the paperwork. Don't expect the clerk to give any sort of opinion regarding the ULC, legalities, or registration. The clerk only files documents, but they know their jobs well and can talk you through your handling of the paperwork. And, be sure that the couple presents to you a valid marriage license, identification, that the ceremony happens in the valid time period of the license....everything that you read about is your responsibility to make sure it is done timely and with willing and able participants. And welcome to the forum and to the ULC!
  14. Very well...the answer is still the same. Acquire a building and hold regular services. Petition the government for recognition. It won't happen overnight.
  15. We? As in the ULC in Modesto, California? No, there is no interest in it. However, YOU as a minister of the ULC can now go and acquire a building and start regular services in the UK, and from that may petition for recognition. Modesto is likely not going to provide much other than information. Once you establish your church your ordination is still by the ULC but your church in the UK is on its own, legally, and must do everything yourself.
  16. (Not reading all the posts so some of this may be repeated, but with different wording...) Yes, it is for life. So is Baptist, Methodist, Catholic, etc., etc.... What is their point? This one differs because the only stated tenet of the ULC is 'Do only that which is right..' and only that person can determine what is right and wrong for their beliefs. Therefore, there are no provisions to revoke an ordination (such as defrock'n a priest.) However, as has been stated, you can denounce your ordination, just like Baptist, Methodist, Catholic, etc., etc.... The forum is not the governing body of the ULC.
  17. I sure don't. I have known attorney's to be wrong. In my younger days I believed attorney's to be gods of the law, but over the years I have come to know that they are taught general knowledge of the law, researching case law, and legal interpretations. They study very few specific laws and therefore must research almost every case brought before them, even if they specialize in a given area. I have been in a particular business for over 25 years and have yet to find a local attorney that knows more than me about the specific laws of my industry. In the few cases that I have been involved in over the years the best tool my attorney had to prepare our case was me. AND, one very specific instance stands out where we settled a case (where we were the plaintiff) when we should have taken the case to court because both the attorney and I failed to realize a point of law that would have made our case. So, I never rely solely on the opinion of an attorney....
  18. Anyone can be sued for anything. Whether or not the complainant will be able to prove a case is another story altogether. My opinion is simple. Do not become a minister for the sole purpose of starting a wedding ministry. Do not even have an intent on making a living as a minister. Have a congregation and perform wedding ceremonies for your parishioners. The occasional non-parishioner that requests you to marry them will not be much of a liability, and your parishioners will certainly not.
  19. That is correct. The fact is... Tax exempt Non profit 501c3 Are all different animals and have nothing to do with each other except: You can't be one without being the other first, but you can be the other without being one, and the third is just something different that requires being BOTH of the others first.
  20. You don't have to provide anything, if you don't want to. An individual can accept a donation from anyone. Although Paypal has the right to refuse to service the donation transaction. They ask for such documentation to allow them to reduct the fees to qualified charitable organizations.
  21. No. I wouldn't consider the monastery a fake church. It's just their way of doing things. NYC makes the rules the way they do in order for the clergy that passes registration are actually clergy that has the care of souls. i.e. actually has a brick and mortar church. It allows them to conduct marriage ceremonies for their congregation. I would not advise anyone that does not have a brick and mortar church to attempt registration in NYC. No, I am not in NYC nor have I attempted to register there.
  22. As I said, if he had previously established..... Of course, how much does he want to spend defending his rights over a fast food job?