Well, it seems I’m sending 2008 out much the same way I sent 2007 out. In fact, I think pretty much everything on December 31, 2008 that I thought on December 31, 2007. Here’s that post. Heh.
I’m taking in the Peach Bowl in glorious HD, and enjoying a pleasantly subtle Harpoon IPA haze. I hope this evening finds you doing something similarly relaxing, and I wish you all the best in the new year.
OK, I don’t beg for money much. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever done it before. I also don’t make many 100% serious posts. Please forgive me this one.
No, I’m not begging for myself. But if you don’t have a cause or two, why not? It’s not too late to grab yourself a 2008 tax deduction, as well as make a difference in someone’s life.
This year, about two-thirds of our charitable giving went to our church’s various ministries. Our church does the usual things (feed folks, help out with home construction and repair, prison programs, and the like), but we also fund and staff educational and agricultural missions in Bolivia and Honduras. I’m also proud of the fact that we’re a front-line evacuation facility in the area for large emergencies, like floods and hurricanes.
Do give to your place of worship, or another organization that works on the ground in your neighborhood. That’s important. Beyond that, here are some other good causes we supported this year. I invite you to do the same:
Thank you for your consideration, dear readers.
Well, I guess today contained our last scheduled Christmas break activities. It was fun having lunch with Uncle Bill today. He’s doing well. I’ll tell you, though, I wish that whole “urban renewal” concept would hit Birmingham. In Hoover (where Bill lives) and a few other suburbs, there are earth-movers and cranes everywhere, even now—while Birmingham itself seems to get a little dirtier, emptier, and scarier each year.
After we got back, we picked up my dear mother-in-law and went to the Galaxy of Lights at the Huntsville Botanical Garden, and closed out the evening with a steak at Lone Star.
Tomorrow morning, I have to fix the washer. I think there’s a 90+% chance it needs the same motor coupling I replaced three years ago.
Tonight, it’s a bit more Gears of War 2 before bed.
I’ve never been particularly tempted to try turning a leisure pursuit into a living, and part of the reason is that I’ve never known a cheerful hobby shop owner.
I think the guys who were cheerful in their pre-hobby shop lives must be the ones who bottom out at a sort of deliberate numbness. Our local R/C shop guy will get there, and one moment sir, and I’ll probably have to order that, and you’ll get what you’re after eventually. Don’t look for a smile, though.
On the other hand, I think the guys who already had anything of a tendency toward grouchiness can become openly hostile. We’ve got a local model railroading guy who gets irritated when he knows more than you do about what you’re looking for. He’s a mutterer, too. My supplier this. My delivery guy that.
Certainly the business side strips a lot of the romance from it, and I figure it’s resentment of the lost pleasure manifesting itself. It must be a strong force, too. In the age of the Internet, customer service is a primary distinguisher.
It really doesn’t bother me much, but it definitely makes me not want a hobby shop.