Sunday, June 28, 2009
Starting a new week
It's about 3:30 on Sunday and I just finished watching the USA lose in international soccer. Before that I knocked out P90X X Stretch here at my desk. Sundays lend themselves to extra activities. Anyway Congrats to my cousin and his wife Chad and Carissa on the new baby boy Harrison. I think that this week is going to be a breakthrough week for my working out. I am on a new work schedule and have three days off in the middle of the week. I plan on running and p90xing and maybe some swimming considering the temps in the 100's. Love the Oklahoma summer. So pumped for my wife's new venture and hope all goes well on the first party one week from Thursday. Feel free to ask me about it if you happen to read this post. Okay Sunday 4.5 hours in the work day and tomorrow is my Friday. Time to get serious on a new level.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Short Story - My Everything
My Everything.
I first noticed this when I was only ten years old. Small town doesn’t mean Podunk, insignificant or dismal. In fact what I have come to know is that the greatest ideas come from the smallest corners just down the road. Bruce Jacobs takes his time in the miniature garage outside his Inola, Oklahoma home. There, perfectly spaced just beyond the voice range of his lovely wife and back off the main road, cutting down on the traffic noise, Bruce puts equal parts love and passion into every one of his works.
If someone told you he was forty-five you would nod and move forward never knowing the difference. What’s twenty years anyway? He walks upright and with a welding mask or safety goggles on at all times scares the children whom believe he is building some type of space-robot.
When it comes to killers, murderers and down right despicable people after something terrible you hear how they were always the quiet one. Bruce is the quietest man in town but would walk a mile to avoid stepping on even a cockroach. His miracle lab contains no fancy beakers or high-tech computers but instead a skill set acquired over all his many years. Sometimes the history of the work is in the nicks and cuts on the carpenters hands and tools, not in the finished project. Scars always have a story whether comedic, endearing or painful.
Bruce takes on the challenges every morning, getting out of bed, caring for his wife and facing the unknown. Life brings goodness to us all and Bruce kneels every night and thanks God for his blessings. For years he prayed for her health to improve but now pleads for even the simplest relief. He escapes to his garage to create his next great work. He sees the need for the things that others just can’t. He brings life, a calm warmth, into that garage. He doesn’t understand why life is what it is. He does understand what life means to him. Love can be the driving force in the life of a big city executive or a small town artist.
That morning he walked out of the house forty seven steps, one for each year of their marriage, unlocked the door to a place he would never again visit. As the lights flickered to illuminate his place of hope, he stepped gingerly to his workbench. Sitting on the worn wooden stool he folded his arms in front of him and laid down his head, without warning and yet peacefully.
In all those years he always came back inside at lunch time. In all those years she had never even asked to enter that small garage. In all those years he worked so hard for her and now it seemed in death his soul was there in that poorly lit ten by twelve garage. She found him there, peaceful. Above his workbench a carved wooden sign reads simply, “She is my everything and I love her as such.”
I first noticed this when I was only ten years old. Small town doesn’t mean Podunk, insignificant or dismal. In fact what I have come to know is that the greatest ideas come from the smallest corners just down the road. Bruce Jacobs takes his time in the miniature garage outside his Inola, Oklahoma home. There, perfectly spaced just beyond the voice range of his lovely wife and back off the main road, cutting down on the traffic noise, Bruce puts equal parts love and passion into every one of his works.
If someone told you he was forty-five you would nod and move forward never knowing the difference. What’s twenty years anyway? He walks upright and with a welding mask or safety goggles on at all times scares the children whom believe he is building some type of space-robot.
When it comes to killers, murderers and down right despicable people after something terrible you hear how they were always the quiet one. Bruce is the quietest man in town but would walk a mile to avoid stepping on even a cockroach. His miracle lab contains no fancy beakers or high-tech computers but instead a skill set acquired over all his many years. Sometimes the history of the work is in the nicks and cuts on the carpenters hands and tools, not in the finished project. Scars always have a story whether comedic, endearing or painful.
Bruce takes on the challenges every morning, getting out of bed, caring for his wife and facing the unknown. Life brings goodness to us all and Bruce kneels every night and thanks God for his blessings. For years he prayed for her health to improve but now pleads for even the simplest relief. He escapes to his garage to create his next great work. He sees the need for the things that others just can’t. He brings life, a calm warmth, into that garage. He doesn’t understand why life is what it is. He does understand what life means to him. Love can be the driving force in the life of a big city executive or a small town artist.
That morning he walked out of the house forty seven steps, one for each year of their marriage, unlocked the door to a place he would never again visit. As the lights flickered to illuminate his place of hope, he stepped gingerly to his workbench. Sitting on the worn wooden stool he folded his arms in front of him and laid down his head, without warning and yet peacefully.
In all those years he always came back inside at lunch time. In all those years she had never even asked to enter that small garage. In all those years he worked so hard for her and now it seemed in death his soul was there in that poorly lit ten by twelve garage. She found him there, peaceful. Above his workbench a carved wooden sign reads simply, “She is my everything and I love her as such.”
Picture Link
Hey anybody that might stumble upon this... Here is a link to the Day 1 day 60 pics. P90X Lean routine, 1st round obviously.
http://docs.google.com/Presentation?id=dfbgjjx_0qr8bwgf7
http://docs.google.com/Presentation?id=dfbgjjx_0qr8bwgf7
June 25th
I know this is not much of a blog starter, but I have been trying to get some pics online for all to see of my P90X Journey. So hello all and welcome to the wonderful world of Travis Peck writes about random stuff. Enjoy and don't be to harsh on the reviews we all have to start somewhere. Just kidding on that, hit me with all the hate that grows in your heart. Love also welcome. Also if this takes off I might start posting some writing stuff like poems and short stories.
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