Last Day With Midnight

For about the past six weeks, we've been a three-dog family.  We have two Yellow Labs, Max and Cooper, but a stray dog has taken up residence with us.  He's a black German Shepherd, and I started calling him Midnight.  At first, I thought Midnight was a girl, but I was informed that female dogs don't go looking for males.  Midnight squats to pee, like a girl, so I thought . . . Max and Cooper each did the same thing until they got to be 6-8 months old, so I've thought Midnight was still a puppy.  He's not small, but I've assumed that he's young.

Midnight is skittish.  If he even HEARS us, he takes off like a rocket.  The only times we ever see him is when we get home or get up in the morning.  When we get home, he's in the yard playing with Max and Cooper.  It's been a real shock how well they've all gotten along.  I imagined our dogs wouldn't allow another dog to come inside our yard because of how they react when our neighbors walk their dogs around our circle.  Sometimes I find all 3 dogs in our two dog houses that are inside our dog pen (we keep the door open and they sleep/nap in there).  Usually, Midnight has a house to himself and Max and Cooper cram in the other.  Or, they sleep outside the houses all on top of one another.

As innocent as Midnight sounds, he's been causing us problems.  He eats and drinks like a horse.  We have a 50lb free feeder on our front porch and 50lbs of food usually lasts 2-3 weeks.  We also have a 5gal oblong water pail on the porch, and I replace the water every couple days.  With Midnight, the food lasts about a week and the water pail has been dry a few times.  He also barks at our neighbor.  Her mailbox is on our side of the road and when she comes to get her mail, Midnight barks at her aggressively as if to say, "Get out of OUR yard!!!"  He chews up the ad paper that gets thrown out by our mailbox each Tuesday, and I have to pick up the mess that's all over our yard.  Max and Cooper can't get to our mailbox because it's outside our  underground pet fence, and that's been another problem: Midnight comes and goes as he pleases, and at least once, Max has left the yard following him.  The only time our dogs ever leave our yard is when the fence isn't working.  They're smart.  They figure it out.  But they've been enticed by Midnight to leave the protection of our yard.

Some people with underground pet fences say, "We haven't had our fence turned on in years and our dogs never go near the boundary."  I assume these people don't have 2-3 year old Labs.  Labs are considered one of the smartest dog breeds, ranked 7th at present.  (http://www.petmedsonline.org/top-10-smartest-dogs-in-the-world.html ) I've seen different lists over the past few years and they appear to be quite subjective.  Labs were ranked second just a few years ago, and I know they didn't suddenly get 5 spots dumber.

German Shepherds are considered the third smartest dog breed.  It's been fun to watch our dogs interact with Midnight.  They TRAINED HIM WHERE TO POOP!  Every fall it takes me about 6 weeks to clear our yard of leaves.  There are millions of the evil things.  I dump part of them in the woods at the far corner of our property.  That's where we trained Max and Cooper to go poop when they were puppies.  They can be on the opposite end of the yard, and if the urge hits them, they take off for the leaf pile.  Well, I've seen Midnight do the same thing, at times WITH our dogs, and at times completely ON HIS OWN!  It's like Max said, "Now Midnight, don't go pooping in our yard.  Kev gets pretty mad about, even if it was uh as-uh-dent.  You gotta come down here to the woods."

To the title of this post, today was our last day with Midnight.  We called Animal Control a few weeks ago and it took them 3 weeks to get a trap to us.  Lots of strays in our county, and the officer told me they handle over 20,000 DOGS per year.  More on that in a minute.  On Monday, the officer came and set the trap OUTSIDE our yard so that our dogs can't get to it. I put food in the back of the trap, but it didn't work.  We saw Midnight BY the trap on Tuesday morning and thought he was in it, but he'd moved it around and got the food to fall through the cage.  He had dug all around the trap in his attempt to get the food.  I tried again that day and yesterday.  Last night I made a long trail of bread slices leading to the trap and into it all the way to the back.  It worked.  Kelley looked out before 7am this morning and said, "You caught Midnight."  I got up and went out there to check on him.  He was shaking and scared to death.  I talked calmly to him and gave him a bunch of treats.  This was the first time I'd ever been near him.  He eventually settled, stopped shaking, and took the treats from my hand.

Even though we don't want him, it's a sad day.  He was probably abandoned and/or abused by some idiot.  Now if he just ran away, I understand.  But he has no collar and won't come NEAR people, which leads me to believe he's got a reason to be scared of people.  He's a beautiful dog, but even un-beautiful dogs deserve to be treated with dignity.

20,000 STRAY DOGS in our county each year???  How is that possible?  Our county has about 500,000 residents.  That means 1 out of 25 residents abandons a dog each year, or, some residents abandon a lot more than 1 each year.  If a person can no longer keep a pet for whatever reason, there's a place that will gladly take it: the local Animal Control/Care Services or Animal Shelter.

The officer said that last year our county had to put down fewer than 10 dogs that went unadopted.  (He wasn't counting diseased/injured dogs, just healthy dogs that nobody adopted).  Agencies from OTHER STATES check our county's Animal Care website, adopt them online in masses, come with big vans to get them, and then take them to waiting families in their own states.

This morning as Midnight sat scared to death in that awful trap, I talked to him as if he could understand me:  "Midnight, I'm very sorry we had to trap you, but it's for your own good.  What you see as AWFUL will actually turn out to be your greatest blessing.  Somebody is going to want you.  Somebody is going to give you a great home.  Somebody is going to love and care for you.  You'll never have to sneak into a yard for food, water, or companionship again.  You'll never have to run away when you see people again.  I hope you'll give that person the chance to love you."  He acted like he understood, because that's when he stopped shaking, calmed his breathing, and started to smile.  Dogs DO smile.  Any dummy can see the difference in an angry dog, a scared dog, a smiling dog, etc.

Here's a picture of Midnight.  It's the only time I've been this close to him.  I pray that God gives Midnight loving owners and a great life from this point.  And I know two Yellow Labs that are really going to miss him.
Update: I just went home to check on him.  The Animal Control Officer was there when I got there.  He'd already loaded HER into the truck.  I was right in my original guess - Midnight is a GIRL, and the officer said she's around 9 months old - probably too young to rendezvous with Max and Cooper, or else she's been spayed.  The officer just so happens to own two black German Shepherds.  He had already sent his wife a text of Midnight asking, "Do you want a third?"  Even if they don't keep her, he said there's a list of people waiting for German Shepherds, so Midnight will have a home one way or the other after the 5-day waiting period (for owners to claim their pet).

Mother's Day As A Mommy

Sunday was Mother's Day, and it was a special one: Kelley had her first Mother's Day as a mommy.  As you can see, Kate was just as happy about it as Kelley was.

At church, I took Kate on stage when I made announcements and talked about the significance of the day.  On second thought, I should've waited until Father's Day to do that!  She waved to everyone and smiled.  I think she likes the stage, and I know she likes the attention.  She's a "church" baby and goes to just about anyone.

Maybe I said this before, but the only time she hesitates to go to someone is if it's a man with facial hair.  She's not a fan of beards, mustaches, goatees, etc.  Good thing for both of us that I shave daily.  But, she'll generally choose a man over a woman.  When I drop her off in the mornings, if my dad hasn't left yet, she always wants him instead of Diane, and Diane is the one who keeps her all day.

On Monday, my Grandma gave me Sunday's Dear Abby column.  Kelley is going to mail it to Kate's birthmother.  I'll share it with you:

Dear Abby: This Mother's Day greeting is for all those incredibly unselfish mothers who chose to place their child up for adoption.  I am an adopted child whose life has been a wonderful journey.  If I could send a message to my birth mother, it would be one of eternal gratitude for allowing someone else to give me the life she was unable to provide.  My adoptive parents love me and instilled a value system and belief in God that have carried me through every challenge life has sent my way.  I never felt abandoned, but knew that I was chosen by people who were unable to have children.  There is no love like a mother's love.  That is why I want to tell all those mothers out there who gave their children to another parent to love and nurture that their sacrifice and heartache became a miracle for so many of us.  God bless all of you on this Mother's Day. - Thankful Daughter

Dear Thankful: I'm pleased to print your Mother's Day greeting, and I hope it will bring comfort and reassurance to any woman for whom today is a reminder of a painful sacrifice.  I would also like to wish a happy Mother's Day to mothers everywhere.

Understanding Fitness Part A: Countering Popular Fitness Myths

Fitness has nothing to do with body size, and there's no easily recognized "picture of fitness."  It's possible to be overweight and fit or thin and unfit.  Body weight does have an effect on fitness, but fitness involves emotional, mental, spiritual, and physical health.

The average person would likely be shocked to learn that body weight is the LEAST important tool for measuring fitness progress.  The human body is made up of 60-70% water.  With minor dietary changes, water loss can lead to a fluctuation in weight of two to seven pounds.  This amount of water weight can also be lost in a single day with the right conditions, such as working in the yard all day during the summer without properly rehydrating.

An obsession with weight is a TERRIBLE distraction to more important concerns.  No one can gain or lose any real, noticeable weight in a day, so there is no reason to check the scales every day.  Periodic checks are good, but anything more puts the emphasis in the wrong place.  Because muscle weighs more than fat, any fitness program may result in added weight, even though DRAMATIC changes in body size come with it.  More attention should be given to body changes than body weight.  Adding body weight in the form of muscle is ALWAYS good because muscle increases the number of calories burned.  In other words, adding muscle increases metabolism.

Fitness can't be viewed as a check-listed accomplishment like earning a degree.  Once a degree is earned, it's forever owned, but fitness isn't forever owned unless it's forever maintained.  Fitness isn't gained or lost in any short period of time.  When a lifestyle of fitness is developed, fitness becomes stronger and more difficult to halt.

Many people sabotage their own fitness by believing that their diet and physical activity practices are much better than they really are.  Research shows that most people underestimate the amount of calories they consume and overestimate the amount of calories they burn through physical activity.  This denial or misperception is a major factor in the growing obesity rate in America.

FITNESS CAN'T BE ATTAINED QUICKLY.  Most commercial fitness products use UNREALISTIC expectations as marketing schemes to sell their products.  To the fitness-educated, it's obvious that most of the people who "transformed" their bodies in a few short weeks of using a certain product as shown in before and after photos were already fit before their "transformation."  Fitness product makers are aware of the power of a little lost body fat, a tan, and a sucked-in stomach (as opposed to an intentionally bloated stomach).  These marketers are more concerned with making money than with helping people get fit.  The promise of a completely transformed body in a few short weeks or months isn't just IMPOSSIBLE for MOST people, but also, it should never be presented as the goal.  Short-term fitness goals are rarely achieved, and they lead to frustration, quitting, unused gym memberships, and dusty home gyms.  The full benefits of exercise can only be experienced when fitness is viewed as a LIFETIME goal.  What difference does it really make if a desired weight is reached or if an article of clothing fits just for o ne moment in time, like a wedding or a reunion?  These kinds of temporary goals bring the overwhelming feelings of guilt, defeat, and embarrassment.

Although some body types are more prone to excess weight, genetics don't limit a person's ability to be fit.  Dr. Claude Bouchard of the Human Genomics Laboratory in Baton Rough, LA gives the following contributing factors as causes of obesity: physical environment, social environment, behavior, and genetics.  He states that the current obesity problem has developed only over the past fifty years, and therefore, it can't be blamed on genetics.  Genes that are prone to more body weight only express themselves "when a genetic predisposition meets an 'obesogenic envorinmoent' - where calorie-dense processed foods are readily available, activity is reduced by labor-saving devices, and a sedentary lifestyle is encouraged."  The claim that genetics is the CAUSE of a person's physical state is false.  Genetics is just one part of the obesity problem, but people generally feel better when their problems can be blamed on something OUTSIDE THEIR CONTROL.  Regardless of genetics or current body composition, ANYONE CAN GET FIT.

Coming topics are: Fitness Benefits, Health Risks From A Lack of Fitness,  Fitness and Body Types, and Fitness and Age.

See You Soon, Uncle Wayne

My uncle died Saturday night, April 28.  He was 59 years old.  He would've been 60 on June 6.  Didn't even live 60 years.  Bear with me as I tell a little bit of his story.


Wayne lived a wild life for his first 40 (or so) years.  He always had motorcycles, punching bags, weights and weight benches, boxer bulldogs (Ali and Frazier), guns, knives, trucks, alcohol, Playboy, satellite TV, tobacco . . .  I'm not saying that a lover of Jesus can't have/use MOST of those things, especially the dogs, but I'm trying to paint a picture.  The fact is that Wayne died earlier than expected because of cancer that resulted from his long-term use of chewing tobacco and/or snuff.  His cancer started in his esophagus.  From the time he had cancer until the day he died was about three years.  And those three years were very, very painful and difficult, for him as well as for everyone else involved.


My brothers and I liked being with Wayne when we were little, but speaking for myself alone, I was also afraid of him.  He was fun, but he was also scary at times.  I did love to listen to his stories, though.  He got into a lot of stuff, much of it bad.  He was strong and loved to fight when he was younger.  I was bullied as a kid because of my size.  Wayne was only 5'6" but he wasn't SCRAWNY like I was in school.  I went to the same high school he did, the same building, and I walked the halls where he had plenty of fights.  All the fights I've heard about, he won.  As a scrawny high school kid, I prayed that I could be like Wayne - fearless and able to defend myself.


Even in the last third of his life, his CHRISTIAN years, I often asked him about his old life of sin.  He didn't revel in those memories, but he was honest about them. There were bar fights, lots of "encounters" with women, strange but true stories from all over the country - he was a truck driver most of his adult life and is one of those people privileged to visit all 48 continental US states. He had Vegas stories, New Orleans stories, NYC stories . . .


59 is too young to die, but the truth is, Wayne should've died before he was 30.  He was shot in the back one night on one of his sinful escapades.  It involved a woman who wasn't his wife.  He said a gun was aimed straight at him from just across a bedroom and multiple shots were fired.  He saw the fire explode from the gun but managed to avoid the shots - until he was running out the door.  He ran and dove over some kind of cliff, went all the way to the bottom, and there, figured out how bad he was hurt.  I was 6-7 years old at the time, but I remember it.  I wasn't told the circumstances, just that Wayne had been shot.  For the rest of his life, he wore a huge scar on his abdomen from the surgery to remove the bullet and repair all the damage.  He should've died.  And he would've died without Jesus.


But, being shot didn't change him.  He lived with his mother, my Grandma, at various times during those years, between divorces.  Grandma said she used to sit up in the early hours of the night praying for him.  Wayne said he drove home drunk many nights.  Grandma would finally go to sleep when she heard him come in.  One night, he didn't come in.  He did make it home, but didn't make it in.  With no memory of how he got there, he woke up in the wet grass the next morning, under his truck.  Grandma found him there on her way to work and asked him what he was doing.  Trying to hide that the ground was as far as he could get from his truck, he told her that he working on his truck.


Wayne was a bad man.  My dad, a pastor, may have given up hope for him.  I probably did.  Grandma never did.  Wayne was raised in church and he had as much a chance to learn about and love Jesus as anyone ever had.  But he never did - until about 1994.  I remember my dad telling me that Wayne had been going to church, and it was one of the greatest shocks of my life.  I was about 20 at the time and I was majoring in Christian Studies in college.  Wayne asked me to come teach at the men's group he attended at his church a couple times, and I appreciated his faith in me.


Wayne spent his final days at my dad's house, along with Grandma, their mother.  He wanted to be at home, but it was best for him to be at my dad's.  We had his recliner brought in.  He arrived on Monday and died on Saturday.  The last time I saw him conscious was Tuesday morning.  He was lining up his pills at breakfast, not wanting to take them, and in typical fashion, he was resisting Grandma's attempts to make him do something.  Lots of his stuff was brought to my dad's house during those few days, including two of his Bibles.  He had written several life-changing decisions inside the front cover of one Bible.  Sometime in 1994 he wrote, "Surrendered my life to Jesus and committed to follow Him for the rest of my life."  And he did.


Something indescribable happened to this very bad man.  He became a new man.  He was noticeably different.  I was no longer scared or skeptical of him.  Suddenly, he loved Jesus more than I did, and I'd been a Christian since my childhood.  He talked about Jesus more than I did.  He had a zeal that I'd never had.  Wayne had given Jesus his life, and JESUS HAD CHANGED WAYNE'S LIFE.  It didn't matter what Wayne had done, and it didn't matter what Wayne DID from that point - all the sin he would commit from 1994 through last Saturday.  None of those sins could change his eternal status - FORGIVEN.


Wayne was no longer the MAN HE USED TO BE, but he wasn't a GOOD MAN, either.  Most of us talk about others as "a good guy" or "a good lady," and I know what's typically meant by that.  But contrary to some country music songs and popular opinion, NONE OF US ARE TRULY GOOD.  Salvation comes by FAITH, not by WORKS.  The only good thing about any human is Jesus living inside us.  Before we can see our need for Jesus, we have to UNDERSTAND OUR BADNESS!  WE NEED HELP!


Ephesians 2:8-9  God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. ⁹ Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it. 


There were members in my family present at the funeral that I wanted to SCREAM at, "IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU'VE DONE!  IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW BAD YOU ARE!  WE'RE ALL BAD!  WE ALL DESERVE DEATH!  WE ALL DESERVE TO BE PUNISHED FOR OUR SINS!  THAT'S WHY JESUS CAME AND DIED FOR YOU!  YOU CAN'T BE GOOD ENOUGH!  IT'S NOT POSSIBLE!  BUT JESUS IS GOOD ENOUGH, AND HE MADE YOUR SACRIFICE FOR YOU!  STOP CONVINCING YOURSELF THAT YOU'RE NOT FORGIVABLE!  GOD FORGAVE WAYNE AND CHANGED HIS LIFE, AND YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF MAN WAYNE USED TO BE!  HUMBLE YOURSELF LIKE WAYNE DID IN 1994, SURRENDER YOUR SELFISHNESS TO JESUS, ASK FOR FORGIVENESS, AND LET JESUS BE YOUR MASTER AND SAVIOR!"


If Wayne could tell you anything today, I know he'd start with this:
John 3:16   For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.
John 14:6 (Jesus speaking) "I am the way, the truth, and the life.  No one can come to the Father except through me."

2 Corinthians 5:21  For God made Christ,who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ. 

And close to the top of things he'd tell you would be this: "Don't use tobacco.  Tobacco kills.  Trust me.  Spare yourself, your family, and everyone who loves you the trouble."

I'll finish with Wayne's final few minutes here on earth, and then a little biographical info.  Saturday night, I witnessed someone die for the very first time.  It was one of the most unpleasant things of my entire life.  For his final few hours, we heard his breaths that sounded like they were coming from below a bucket of water.  I was told that's called the "death rasp."  About 9:50, the loud rasp went silent.  His chest still rose and fell until 9:55.  Our family circled him, held him, told him it was ok to go (he had been unconscious for a couple days), and watched him breath his last.  And we ached.  We're still aching.  But Wayne's aching stopped.  His three-year, painful battle with a ravenous disease ended.  We watched, on this side of heaven, as Wayne left a diseased, useless body.  We didn't get to witness his next breath, but by faith, we know there was one.  We know that he was INSTANTLY healed, and instantly in the presence of our Savior, Jesus Christ.  

Romans 6:4-8  For we died and were buried with Christ by baptism. And just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glorious power of the Father, now we also may live new lives. ⁵ Since we have been united with him in his death, we will also be raised to life as he was. ⁶ We know that our old sinful selves were crucified with Christ so that sin might lose its power in our lives. We are no longer slaves to sin. ⁷ For when we died with Christ we were set free from the power of sin. ⁸ And since we died with Christ, we know we will also live with him. 

We have no idea what heaven will really be like, but we know Jesus is there.  That's all that matters.  Wayne had been wanting to go to Jesus for months.  Literally.  He said one Sunday morning, SURE OF HIMSELF, "I'm going to meet my Jesus today."  He didn't get to see Jesus that day, but Saturday night, he did.  

And now for the biographical info.  If I were Wayne, the second person I would've wanted to see would've been my dad.  See, Wayne had no recollection of his Daddy - my Daddy's Daddy - my Grandpa.  In December 1953, Wayne was 1.5 years old.  My Daddy was 3.5 years old.  Their sister Carolyn was 5.5 years old.  And their unborn brother Kenny was still three months from entering the world.  Their Daddy, my Grandma's husband, was shot and killed by their drunken, 80-year old neighbor, whom my Grandpa had allowed to live on the property.  My Daddy sat with his Daddy on the ground where he fell and watched him die, with little understanding of what was happening.  

My Grandma's "mother," Nanny, who was really my Grandma's grandmother (another sad part of the story for another day), helped her raise those four kids in a time when it wasn't good to be a single mother.  My Grandma didn't have a license, let alone a job.  With hard work and strong faith in Jesus, they made it.  That little unborn baby, Kenny, grew up having never MET his Daddy. But in the summer of 1971, Kenny did meet his Daddy.  Kenny died in a car wreck at age 17.  This was the second heart-break for my Daddy's immediate family.  

My Grandma has now outlived and buried three of her four children.  Her oldest child, my Aunt Carolyn, died at age 56 in 2004 after her own battle with cancer.  After Wayne died on Saturday, Grandma brought the room to tears when she hugged my Daddy and cried, "We started out as a big 'ole family and now it's just you and me."

So on Saturday night around 10pm EST on earth, after meeting Jesus face to face, Wayne got to see his Daddy, for all he remembers, for the first time (and my Grandpa got to see the son he last saw as a 1.5 year old baby).  Wayne got to see his brother Kenny for the first time in 41 years.  He got to see his beloved great-grandmother Nanny for the first time in 37 years.  He got to see his sister Carolyn for the first time in 7 years.  And now, 5 members of the family that never quite made it to a full family of 6 (plus Nanny), wait in heaven for the arrival of their wife/mother/granddaughter (my Grandma), and their son, brother, great grandson (my Daddy).  Such sadness for one family.  But one day, hopefully a long time from now by earth's standards, there will be great joy.

How can I say for sure that this family of 7 will be reunited in heaven?  It's not because I assume that all "good" people go to heaven.  There's only one reason there's going to be a family reunion for the Leonard and Betty Elders family - each of them asked Jesus to forgive their sins and be their Savior.  


There's another heavenly reunion coming one day, too, a part of the story I've saved until now.  Wayne had one child, a son.  We know him as JW, but his high school friends know him as Joel.  JW was born Sept. 11, 1984, and he had complications from the start.  Those complications affected every day of his life, although he lived a mostly normal life until the summer of 2003.  While on a mission trip with his church in Pittsburgh, PA, JW got a bad headache - a result of those complications.  A mistake at the hospital left him an invalid.  He has required constant care ever since.  Wayne loved his son, and hurt so much for everything he (JW) suffered.  But as a young teen, JW also trusted Jesus to forgive his sins and give him eternal life.  Someday in the future, father and son will be together again, but this time, with perfect bodies.  

One day, hopefully around 2084, I look forward to joining them.  I'm 11 years older than my wife.  We both plan to live to be 100.  I want to leave here with her, so I've got to make it to 111.  That's one reason why I work out so much/so hard.  I hope to see you there, too.  If you're not sure about your eternal status - IF YOU'VE NEVER ASKED JESUS CHRIST TO FORGIVE YOUR SINS AND GIVE YOU ETERNAL LIFE - you can find out how to make sure here - http://www.livingwaycommunitychurch.com/227631 .

Kate's Second Word, Unsweet Tea, and a Fitness Tip

OK, it MAY be her second word, but Kate started saying "dada" this week. Kelley heard it first. Of course, I didn't believe it because she has been making the "b" sound for a while, but never the "d" sound. She starts off by mouthing "dada" silently. Then she whispers it. Finally, she says it out loud. It's like she's warming up, practicing, and then presenting what she just practiced!

I say that it MAY be her second word because she jabbers a lot of stuff, much of it in a whisper. She repeats something over and over when she's playing or making a mess that sounds like, "I'll try, I'll try, I'll try."

Regardless, I'm happy that she's saying "dada." Maybe one day soon she'll know what it means!

Unrelated, here are a couple videos of Kate to enhance the enjoyment of this post.

A. Kate's in what I call "Discovery/Destroyer" mode. Since she can crawl now, she's trying to figure out what EVERYTHING does. But in the process, she's really making some messes and it won't be long before something gets destroyed.

B. A girl after my own heart. Kate's getting a taste of unsweet tea from Diane. She's been sipping it like this for a couple weeks, and she still grimaces as if she's tasted a lemon. This wasn't her first sip at this time, so her grimace is less severe but still noticeable. More on unsweet tea after the videos.

Only in the south do you have to call it UNSWEET tea. It's better known as, TEA. Don't get me wrong, I love sweet tea. I wish it had zero calories. It took me over a year to ween myself off sweet tea and I did it by mixing sweet and unsweet. Over time, I reduced the amount of sweet and eventually I was content to drink it STRAIGHT UNSWEET. That was in 2003-2004, and I haven't PURPOSEFULLY drank sweet tea since. When you think you're drinking unsweet and it's actually sweet, it's DISGUSTING. Occasionally when I get breakfast at a drive thru, I'll mistakenly be given sweet tea. I find out when it's too late to go back, and usually, it's on my weekly golf trip with my former pastor, Charles Owens. He lives more than 2.5 hours away from us, but we meet somewhere weekly for golf that requires each of us to drive a minimum of 1.5 hours. That's my weekly time to eat a BAD breakfast - a biscuit from Bojangles, Chic Fil A, etc. I eat the SAME THING for breakfast all the other days - a pack of maple and brown sugar oatmeal mixed with an equal amount of plain oatmeal.

Why did I switch to unsweet? I'm not a diabetic, but I am a fitness freak. I like to eat and although I'm careful, I eat till I'm full. The greatest single way for Americans to reduce their daily caloric intake is to STOP DRINKING CALORIES! It's easy to consume 500, 1000, or MORE calories per day just in beverages. A 12oz Coke has 140 calories. A 12oz Mountain Dew has 170 calories. A 12oz orange soda has over 200 calories. Sweet Tea is impossible to rate because everyone makes it with different amounts of sugar. This was part of my dissertation, "A Fitness Model For Pastors."

When I stopped drinking calories, I lost some weight, but more importantly, reduced my waistline and bodyfat considerably - without changing ANYTHING ELSE. For me, it's water, unsweet tea, or diet soda, which I drink sparingly nowadays. One exception is that when I have a softball game, I'll take a low-calorie version Gatorade.

Kate is in the 100th percentile for height, and @ the 80th percentile for weight. Her birth mother is @5'9" and her birth father is 6'3". She's not going to be a small girl like her mom (Kelley is 5'1" and under 100lbs). We're going to give her every opportunity to eat and drink SMART so that she doesn't have to consume herself with her size/weight. Fortunately, she loves being outside so far, and she has active parents who love sports. You may see her on ESPN someday!

Kate and The Boys

(I didn't start this intending to write so much about our dogs. If you're in a hurry, scroll to the last paragraph and the pictures at the bottom.)

Before we had Kate, we had two boys: Max and Cooper, our yellow Labs. Max was born March 6, 2009, and Cooper was born October 6, 2009, so Max is 7 months older.

Max is smaller at 80 pounds, but what he "lacks" in size, he makes up for in speed, endurance, and overall athleticism. He'll run with MAXIMUM effort as long as I'll throw a ball for him to chase. When he's tired, he'll come back to me and lie down a few feet away with the ball between his paws, as if to say, "Give me a minute, Kev." Even so, if I throw another ball, he'll take off after it. (FYI, I give him a minute to rest.) Kelley's parents live on a lake and their dock is about 5-6 feet above the water during the summer months (9,10+ feet in the winter, and the drop doesn't bother the boys at all). Both dogs love going there and jumping off the dock chasing tennis balls. If I don't throw a ball for a while, Max jumps in chasing nothing.

Cooper is bigger at 105 pounds, bigger in every way: head, height, width, paws, tail . . .

But don't let his bigger size fool you. At least for a few sprints, he's about as fast as Max. The first few ball tosses (I throw one ball for each dog), Cooper is the first to the balls as often as Max. He doesn't have Max's endurance, though. When Cooper gets tired, he plods along after the ball. He always gets it, but he lets me know he's in no hurry. He's still athletic, though. He's a leaper. I love to lead him with long throws that bounce right in front of him. He leaps up like A.J. Green and snatches the ball out of the air, all in full stride. And it makes me feel like Tim Tebow - hey, don't laugh, Tebow is excellent at the deep ball!

We discovered Cooper's leaping ability the night we brought him home. When Max was little, we could put him on a chair or ottoman in the living room and he'd stay because he was scared to jump off. Cooper jumped off instantly, fearlessly.

Cooper's fearlessness and leaping ability proved to be a real pain for us as he lived in our laundry room for the first couple months. It was winter and we didn't want him outside in the cold. The baby gate that kept Max where we wanted him was no match for Cooper. We discovered this one night when we heard the sound of glass breaking. At first I thought someone was breaking in, but it was just Cooper. He'd leaped the baby gate and was destroying a glass ornament off the Christmas tree. I had to raise the baby gate so high that we couldn't step over it, and then block the open space at the bottom with my 60 lb and 55 lb dumbbells. One of Cooper's first sentences was, "YOU CANNOT CONTAIN ME!!!" (Our dogs talk to us, by the way, and each has his own unique sound. Cooper, being younger, speaks slower, isn't great with grammar, and struggles with bigger words. I could give you plenty of examples, but this is supposed to be a blog about KATE and the boys.)

I'm almost finished bragging about Cooper and trying to convince you that he's not a big slob. At the lake, Max launches himself off the dock for DISTANCE. He'd be a natural for that dog distance diving competition you may have seen on ESPN. Cooper couldn't care less about distance; he goes for HEIGHT. It's so funny. Max barely makes a splash when he lands because he's more or less skiing across the top of the water when he lands. Cooper leaps up as high as possible, and as you know, what comes up must come down. And he comes down with a mammoth SPLOOSH! When he rises back to the surface, THEN he takes off for the ball. Because he's so big and strong, he's a faster swimmer than Max. His big paws move a lot of water.

Being WATER DOGS, it's particularly funny that Cooper can't stand water from a hose. Without a lake in our yard, the next best thing for Max is the water hose. He jumps through the stream, "eats" it, and becomes a soaking wet mess. Meanwhile, Cooper stands behind whoever has the hose. If you come close to pointing it in his direction, he circles back behind you, saying, "I don't like getting squirted wif wah-der, y'all!"

To each other, Max generally acts like a wimp and Cooper acts like the boss. To anyone who attempts to walk in our yard, Max is the GREAT DEFENDER while Cooper invites them in to play. Everybody says, "It's that little one I'm worried about." To us, Cooper is the loving one, and Max is the hyper one. So, with their contrasting expressions, we've wondered how they'd be with Kate. We've had her around them since we brought her home and they've been pretty gentle - the harshest thing was a few aggressive licks we couldn't avoid. Yesterday I found out how they're going to be with her. I had her in the gym with me, nowhere near the door. The dogs usually lie just outside the door watching me. Kate crawled to them, and I cautiously started taking pictures. Here's what happened (Max has red collar, Cooper has black collar):

The Masters - (If I were in a tourn. pool)

This is one of my favorite weeks of the entire year, all because of sports. The NCAA Final Four finishes this week. As a Tar Heel basketball fan, it's been a fun week for me over the years for that reason alone. Major League Baseball starts and now there's something on TV I like just about every night between now and October. And the Masters is this week. It's the best golf tournament of the year. I got to go in 2002, the opening round. I saw Phil Mickelson chip in for birdie from way off the green on No. 11. I'll probably never get to go back, so that was a great day - and it didn't cost me a cent. If my wife loved me, she'd figure out a way to get us tickets to a future Masters TOURNAMENT (NOT PRACTICE) round one year.

I heard about a Masters pool yesterday where you pick one of the three favorites:

1. Tiger Woods

2. Rory McIlroy

3. Phil Mickelson

and then you pick any 6 other players. I didn't hear how the winner of the pool was determined, but the simple way is to add up the final score of your 7 players and the lowest total score wins.

Here's who I'd pick:

1. Phil Mickelson - because he's my favorite golfer. Can't stand Tiger Woods. I've never heard of an athlete as selfish, arrogant, (you can keep filling in blanks) as that punk. Rory McIlroy is pretty arrogant himself, but not to the Tiger level. It was a pleasure watching him blow the Masters on the back 9 last year.

2. My six picks from the rest of the field:

Bubba Watson - he's my next favorite golfer, and because of how he's boldly proclaimed Jesus the past couple years, I'd probably rather he win than Phil. I don't "tweet" but I do have a Twitter account and I keep up with what Bubba says. He and his wife just adopted a 1-month old boy. Go Bubba.

Keegan Bradley - This is his first Masters and there hasn't been a Masters rookie winner since Fuzzy Zoeller in 1979, so it's not likely. But he's playing well and he did win the last major.

Lee Westwood - He's played well at Augusta in the past and seems to always be on the leaderboard at majors.

Luke Donald - The current number 1 player in the world (whatever that means). He'll win a major sooner or later b/c he's too good not to.

Adam Scott - Too good never to have won a major. Almost won last year.

Bill Haas - Had to pick a seventh guy. He won in a playoff over Mickelson and Bradley earlier this year.

If you're a golf fan, who would you pick?