Haven't Blogged much

I've never been an avid blogger like those who blog every day and sometimes more than once a day. Sometimes I envy those people and other times I don't.

As to why I don't blog as much as I could...should...want to...well, mainly cause I guess I ain't got time. And then, there's the other side -- does what I blog about really mean much? Does it impact the readers? Should it impact my readers? Ah...doesn't matter I guess.

Well, today I am blogging not so my about why I haven't blogged, but rather to post the following tidbit of information my friend Darren has sent me. I find it quite fascinating. And I am an avid, and I do mean avid, proponent of the following behavior.

Here we go.

Taken from "Why Do Men Have Nipples?"...

*On the average, a fart is composed of about 59% nitrogen, 21% hydrogen, 9% carbon dioxide, 7% methane, and 4% oxygen. Less than 1% of its makeup is what makes it stink.

*The temperature of a fart at time of creation is 98.6F.

*Farts have been clocked at a speed of 10 feet per second.

*A person farts about a half a liter of farts a day.

*Women fart as much as men.

*The gas that makes farts stink is hydrogen sulfide. The more sulfur rich your diet, the more they will stink. Foods that cause this are beans, cabbage, cheese, soda, & eggs

*Most people fart about 14 times a day.

Smell you all later!

Long time friend...New blogger

Hello all, please welcome a good friend of mine who is new to blogging.

He's a former teacher now turned property management paper pusher; He's smart, funny and witty, and writes three different topical blogs. They are:

1. http://wewowr.blogspot.com/
I will be writing when I feel it's worth it. Hopefully you will think it's worth reading.

2. http://ripsbooks.blogspot.com/
rip's books

3. http://www.exercisingdemons.com/
Exercising demons -- Writing and Proofreading Tips

Check his blogs out when you have a chance.

Later.

And thanks.

SAD DAY FOR TECH GEEKS

John W. Backus, 82, Fortran Developer, Dies

By STEVE LOHR, The NY Times
Published: March 20, 2007

John W. Backus, who assembled and led the I.B.M. team that created Fortran, the first widely used programming language, which helped open the door to modern computing, died on Saturday at his home in Ashland, Ore. He was 82.

His daughter Karen Backus announced the death, saying the family did not know the cause, other than age.

Fortran, released in 1957, was “the turning point” in computer software, much as the microprocessor was a giant step forward in hardware, according to J.A.N. Lee, a leading computer historian.

Fortran changed the terms of communication between humans and computers, moving up a level to a language that was more comprehensible by humans. So Fortran, in computing vernacular, is considered the first successful higher-level language.

Mr. Backus and his youthful team, then all in their 20s and 30s, devised a programming language that resembled a combination of English shorthand and algebra. Fortran, short for Formula Translator, was very similar to the algebraic formulas that scientists and engineers used in their daily work. With some training, they were no longer dependent on a programming priesthood to translate their science and engineering problems into a language a computer would understand.

In an interview several years ago, Ken Thompson, who developed the Unix operating system at Bell Labs in 1969, observed that “95 percent of the people who programmed in the early years would never have done it without Fortran.”

He added: “It was a massive step.”

Fortran was also extremely efficient, running as fast as programs painstakingly hand-coded by the programming elite, who worked in arcane machine languages. This was a feat considered impossible before Fortran. It was achieved by the masterful design of the Fortran compiler, a program that captures the human intent of a program and recasts it in a way that a computer can process.

In the Fortran project, Mr. Backus tackled two fundamental problems in computing — how to make programming easier for humans, and how to structure the underlying code to make that possible. Mr. Backus continued to work on those challenges for much of his career, and he encouraged others as well.

“His contribution was immense, and it influenced the work of many, including me,” Frances Allen, a retired research fellow at I.B.M., said yesterday.

Mr. Backus was a bit of a maverick even as a teenager. He grew up in an affluent family in Wilmington, Del., the son of a stockbroker. He had a complicated, difficult relationship with his family, and he was a wayward student.

In a series of interviews in 2000 and 2001 in San Francisco, where he lived at the time, Mr. Backus recalled that his family had sent him to an exclusive private high school, the Hill School in Pennsylvania.

“The delight of that place was all the rules you could break,” he recalled.

After flunking out of the University of Virginia, Mr. Backus was drafted in 1943. But his scores on Army aptitude tests were so high that he was dispatched on government-financed programs to three universities, with his studies ranging from engineering to medicine.

After the war, Mr. Backus found his footing as a student at Columbia University and pursued an interest in mathematics, receiving his master’s degree in 1950. Shortly before he graduated, Mr. Backus wandered by the I.B.M. headquarters on Madison Avenue in New York, where one of its room-size electronic calculators was on display.

When a tour guide inquired, Mr. Backus mentioned that he was a graduate student in math; he was whisked upstairs and asked a series of questions Mr. Backus described as math “brain teasers.” It was an informal oral exam, with no recorded score.

He was hired on the spot. As what? “As a programmer,” Mr. Backus replied, shrugging. “That was the way it was done in those days.”

Back then, there was no field of computer science, no courses or schools. The first written reference to “software” as a computer term, as something distinct from hardware, did not come until 1958.

In 1953, frustrated by his experience of “hand-to-hand combat with the machine,” Mr. Backus was eager to somehow simplify programming. He wrote a brief note to his superior, asking to be allowed to head a research project with that goal. “I figured there had to be a better way,” he said.

Mr. Backus got approval and began hiring, one by one, until the team reached 10. It was an eclectic bunch that included a crystallographer, a cryptographer, a chess wizard, an employee on loan from United Aircraft, a researcher from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and a young woman who joined the project straight out of Vassar College.

“They took anyone who seemed to have an aptitude for problem-solving skills — bridge players, chess players, even women,” Lois Haibt, the Vassar graduate, recalled in an interview in 2000.

Mr. Backus, colleagues said, managed the research team with a light hand. The hours were long but informal. Snowball fights relieved lengthy days of work in winter. I.B.M. had a system of rigid yearly performance reviews, which Mr. Backus deemed ill-suited for his programmers, so he ignored it. “We were the hackers of those days,” Richard Goldberg, a member of the Fortran team, recalled in an interview in 2000.

After Fortran, Mr. Backus developed, with Peter Naur, a Danish computer scientist, a notation for describing the structure of programming languages, much like grammar for natural languages. It became known as Backus-Naur form.

Later, Mr. Backus worked for years with a group at I.B.M. in an area called functional programming. The notion, Mr. Backus said, was to develop a system of programming that would focus more on describing the problem a person wanted the computer to solve and less on giving the computer step-by-step instructions.

“That field owes a lot to John Backus and his early efforts to promote it,” said Alex Aiken, a former researcher at I.B.M. who is now a professor at Stanford University.

In addition to his daughter Karen, of New York, Mr. Backus is survived by another daughter, Paula Backus, of Ashland, Ore.; and a brother, Cecil Backus, of Easton, Md.

His second wife, Barbara Stannard, died in 2004. His first marriage, to Marjorie Jamison, ended in divorce.

It was Mr. Backus who set the tone for the Fortran team. Yet if the style was informal, the work was intense, a four-year venture with no guarantee of success and many small setbacks along the way.

Innovation, Mr. Backus said, was a constant process of trial and error.

“You need the willingness to fail all the time,” he said. “You have to generate many ideas and then you have to work very hard only to discover that they don’t work. And you keep doing that over and over until you find one that does work.”

Click here for The Ny Times

Happy Birthday, me

Today, 31 years ago, at approximately 10:23 a.m., I sprouted my head and came into this world.

Here's to me and my birthday and the terrible head cold I'm suffering with.

Yippee! Ouch....

Happy

Its so nice to be here working in the county. It really is cool and find myself happy.

Even though it is only the second day, I like it. I know with time it will get busier, and that's okay...I'm really happy to be here.

If I were to sum up how I feel, I'd say I feel like a Regina Spektor song -- all over the place and happy and content.

Summer

Days of isolation
Hot, warm, sunny, weather

Fresh cut grass, sweet water aroma smell
Windows rolled down, sweat rolls down my cheek

Days of remembrance, take me to a place of isolation
Days of sovereign solitude, days free from pain

To remember those, what a joy...and...what pain

Mercy me, the grace that thou have for me

I remember the days of fresh cut grass, sweet water aroma smell
Windows rolled down, sweat rolling down my check

Days of youth-hood, not many cares or trouble...
Far from me today, far from me...today...

Thanks to Jeremiah for showing me this

I so dig her ...

Reminders

I glanced at a quick online ad today and it reminded me of sister. Although it wasn't her, it prompted me to google her name to see what would come up.

I found an article written about her death by a reporter at the RJ.

I read the article and think, "that's not my sister". Then again, yes, it is.

Here's the article:

Sunday, April 14, 2002
Copyright © Las Vegas Review-Journal
COLUMN: John L. Smith

Questions linger on cause of death of renowned Las Vegas model Hill


Model Martie Hill was a genuine showstopper, the kind of stunning young woman whose face and figure could snarl traffic and make strong hearts flutter.

Her beauty was rivaled only by her determination to succeed as a model and, later, as an art broker. She worked in New York and Los Angeles but was most successful in Las Vegas, where for years her image was ubiquitous. As a teen-ager, she was a Las Vegan magazine cover girl and won a string of beauty contests from Miss Legs of Las Vegas to Miss Star Body to Miss English Leather. The jobs poured in, and she rarely passed up an opportunity.

Whether in television commercials or on billboards, Martie was everywhere.

"She was beautiful, smart, funny and very Christian when I knew her," former model Donna Baldwin recalls. Given Hill's drive, friends and family figured there wasn't anything their Martie couldn't do if she put her mind to it.

At 40, Hill still was modeling but concentrating more on art brokering and developing her own business. By all appearances, her life still held the limitless potential of her youth.

But instead of appearing on a marquee or in a list of successful businesswomen, Martie Hill was found dead last month down on Hoover Street in the middle of a neighborhood notorious for its sidewalk drug sales.

Her body was discovered March 20 wrapped in a blanket and placed in the passenger seat of her BMW 700 IL. Her arms were constrained in the blanket, and her shoes were missing. Her cell phone and purse were next to her.

The driver's seat was pushed back to accommodate a person much taller than Hill's 5 feet 4 inches.

North Las Vegas police studied the scene and surmised the obvious: that Hill died elsewhere, was rolled into a blanket and taken to Hoover Street. After a quick inquiry and a few interviews, a detective determined that the case was not a homicide, but a probable drug overdose.

Was Martie Hill really just another Las Vegas beauty gone bad?

Although a toxicology report is incomplete, informed sources say preliminary indications are that Hill died of a cocaine overdose. This surprises her brother, Paul Hill, and a friend, Cliff Behl, because they didn't know her to use cocaine. Friends say she took anxiety medication to relieve a panic disorder and occasionally used marijuana.

"We believe there's more to it than that," Paul Hill says. "Somebody placed her car over there hoping they would think it's just another druggie."

Says Behl, a former fiance, "Drugs? She was almost violently opposed to it."

In fact, no one interviewed for this column reports Hill ever using cocaine. At times a fitness fanatic and devout Christian, she simply wasn't much of a drug user.

"I'm absolutely shocked," longtime friend Paul Murphy says. "I think that would surprise anyone who knows her. It was just not the Martie Hill that I knew very well."

"Martie was just completely against hard drugs," says Kendra Crosby, a friend of six years. "She just felt no need for them."

They also wonder why police, who admittedly have plenty of homicide cases pending, only briefly questioned Hill's roommate, Jeff Loth. He had known Hill a short time and moved into her Lakes home March 1. My attempts to reach Loth were unsuccessful.

Michele Barnes roomed with Hill for nine years.

"She was loved by a lot of people, and she had the biggest heart," Barnes says. "She helped so many people, and she always tried to see the good in everybody. She was a friend to everyone."

What about hard drugs?

"Never," Barnes says.

At Hill's funeral, people from every strata of Las Vegas life assembled. The service overflowed with family and friends. Casino bosses sent flowers, and the outpouring of affection was overwhelming.

Afterward, those friends and family members were left with aching, unanswered questions about her death.

This is certain: There is a witness to her final moments. Someone she knew drove her body down to Hoover Street. That person also knew the neighborhood's reputation.

That doesn't necessarily add up to homicide, but it does add to the mystery surrounding the death of a Las Vegas showstopper.

John L. Smith's column appears Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. E-mail him at jsmith@reviewjournal.com or call him at 383-0295.

The feeling of ...

I don't mind being on crunch time. But I hate the feeling of being on crunch time while totally lost and frustrated.

Crunch time is good, unless of course you get too much of it. And if that be the case, then one of two things is happening, well maybe three:

1. you're a glutton for crunch time.
2. you're repeatedly forced into crunch time by work, family, life, etc...
3. you're a procrastinator ... and therefore, you suck!

I must admit that I am, at least for today, a combo of number 3 and 1. But now that I think of it, 1 and 3 are pretty darn similar.

Damn it...I'm a sucky glutton!


Waiting Anticipatively

There are some cool things brewing in the background. Once I find out if they are a go or no go, I'll let you know.

If you feel lead, please pray - although you don't know what it is - pray that it would happen if it be his will.


7 months

My lovely wife reminded me this morning via IM that we have hit our 7 month weeding anniversary.

I'm making her dinner this evening. Too bad she won't get home till 7 p.m. :-(


Jeremiah Smith

Any other week I would call him a "punk, jerk face". But this week, I envy him. The man with the killer job is 'working' in Australia this week. While he counts cards and scratches Wilda beasts on their behind, I'm stuck in Vegas counting lines of code and scratching my own behind.

I kinda miss him. Hurry home, mate.

I want that crab!

Elevator

As I took the elevator to the third floor, I smell something slightly foul and uncomfortably familiar.

As the elevator putted along I wonder what that smell could be. I believed it was either vomit or old chicken parmigiana heavy ladded with smelly parmigiana cheese.

After the elevator stopped, I walked up to the waiting room front desk counter. Sitting at the end of the counter was an open bag of cheese popcorn.

I guess that was it.

Jeb Bush
The last person I'd vote for as President of the United States.


John McCain
Most likely the first person I'd vote for as President of the United States


John Edwards and Barrack Obama
People that I like but whom I feel our country is not ready for just yet. Maybe 2012.

Bill Gates and V for Vendetta

Two weeks ago I officially began my journey into Mr. Bill Gates' world of Microsoft. I'm currently enrolled in the IT academy at UNLV which is a Microsoft partner. I'm taking a series of seven courses that will give the experience and education to help get me certified as a Microsoft Certified Systems Engineer.

So far I really like the classes. The professor is good. He's got several accreditations and tons of hands-on experience. Being with him and the other students has been good. I'm also liking the class make-up and structure. With the exception of two peeople, all the students in the class are currently in IT. The cool thing is that many of the people are in the business and have proven themselves exponentially. However, they also see the benefit of taking these preparatory classes. That makes me more comfortable in dropping xK dollars for these classes. I'm relieved :-)

On another front, this past weekend MaryAnn, my mom and I watch V for Vendetta. I was impressed. It blew my expectations. I had expected the movie to be about some masked man going around killing people in the future. But to the contrary, that's not what the movie was about. It was actually very good and had obviously some great affects, and a really good story and some great acting.

I would liken V for Vendetta as a mix between The Matrix and 1984 (the movie).

Great photo. Great food.

I love octopus!

My Favorite Movies
Damn you Myspace

Ever since I joined myspace I've been nagged to figure out what 'my favorite' movies are. The reason being is that on my myspace profile, there is a section to list the titles of my favorite movies. So, ever since joining myspace, I've been trying to figure out what my fav's are.

After much thought and deliberation, please find below 'my favortie' movies -- or at least a partial list -- in no particular order:

Pirates of Silicon Valley

Finding Forester

Antwone Fisher

Goodwill Hunting

Barry Gordy's The Last Dragon

Dead Poets Society

The Matrix (1st and 3rd, not the second)

The War At Home

The Rock

La Babamba

Napolean Dynomite

The Sum of All Fear

Stand and Deliver

Philadelphia

The Island

Big Fish

Will someone please buy me this calendar?





To my Republican friends: this was in jest.

Prunes

I've been on this new diet for 9 days now--no, its not an all prune diet.

My diet consists of mostly organic meats, poultry, vegetables, fruits and nuts.

I'm called, however, to be completely wheat-free, dairy-free and grain-free.

I cheat a little though. Black coffee is tar to me, so I covet my half-and-half.

Since my food options are limited, I eat all sorts of fruits. Which brings me to prunes. I am finding that prunes' side-affects are 'multiple' bowl movements. Typically, I wouldn't mind: extra gas means more farts, more farts means more things to chuckle at.

However, there comes a time in a man's life when he is just plain tired of wiping his arse -- common...five bowl movements in one day. And worst yet, they day isn't even over yet.

I guess I may have to become prune-free too.

Crap!

Selling my car, going back to school

I've decided to sell my car.

If anyone is interested or knows someone who is interested in an Acura TL, 2004 w/ Navigation, automatic transmission, Granite Green exterior, Tan Leather interior, please let me know.

I haven't posted anything official yet on craigslist or elsewhere, but will being do so shortly.

I hope to use part of the money to payoff classes I'm taking towards the MCSE certification (Microsoft Certified Systems Engineer). With the remaining portion of money, I will put toward a nice used car.

Finally got an add!

A while ago I reluctantly joined myspace by creating my own page.

Since that time, I pursued one individual time after time to add me to his 'friend's list'. After many 'add me as a friend' requests, and an email asking to be added as a friend, I have been confirmed as a friend.

The person who runs the myspace page that I wanted in on is not the same person who the page is about.

The page I wanted so dearly to be on, because I respect his music so much, is "Israel Kamakawiwo'ole", also known as 'Bruddah Iz'

When you have a chance, take a listen to his stuff: http://www.myspace.com/israelkamakawiwoole

Oh, and to the person who finally added me -- thank you!

Rumsfeld Resigns

Early reports coming in say that an announcement will be given in a few minutes.

From 3 months to 1.5 months

Admittedly, going 1.5 months without blogging is a long time, but you can agree -- at least I hope -- that it is much better than going 3 months without blogging.

Our New Perro

To all those who submitted entries, thank you.

For those of you who wanted 'esteban'-- thank you -- unfortunately, you entry was not chosen. But please don't dispair, you're still a winner!

In case you have forgotten what the prize is, allow me to remind you:

* Grand Prize: Lifetime membership in babysitting our dog.

* Other prize winners: same prize as Grand Prize Winner.

Congratulations to all who participated!


What's That Doggy's Name in the Window?

We went for a real storng mexican name. We named him Nicolas Cage.


"'Nicolas cage', what type of damn hell name is that -- that's no mexican name?"

I know...I know...at the onset, Nicolas Cage doesn't seem 'too' mexican. But before you get your chones (spanish slang for underwear) all bunched up, I present to you this:

Nicholas Cage, the actor, is a "fine, handsome, specimen of a man", in my mother's eyes. We think she has secret crush on him--she watches all of his movies.

So, as a joke, we name him Nicolas Cage, but we call him 'Nico' for short.

Plus, we figured that 'Nico' sounds fairly mexican.

Three Months?

Time gapes me.

How insensitive! Not attending to my blog, what a shame.

But is it really the fault of time? Can time really be blamed? Or should I point the finger at myself? Can I be blamed for this?

Probably not.

The culprit, here, is unconventional. I blame my wife. Its all her fault.

There, I said it. Its my wife's fault. She is to blame for this.


Perros Calientes

"Last night, in a shaddy parking lot, of an East Las Vegas Jr. High school, our transaction went down.

She meet us there, with prodcut in hand.

We weren't sure what to expect. We questioned whether or not the product was legit. How many times do you actually get quality from a one-marked vouch proprietor?

Thank the lord, the prodcut was good. It looked clean and smelled sweet.

We were lucky. All things could have gone to hell. With cops and other consumers all around. We were lucy that no one screwed the pooch."

-------

The above rant is one of the many musings in my mind. Its all a rouse just to say, we got a new dog!

Here are some pixs:










Name that Dog

Yes, folks....we need helpnaming that dog. The dog doesn't have a name yet.

Feel free to pass along some suggestions. There are only three criterias:

1. the name must be a strong mexican name and must be in spanish
2. It's a boy dog, so please only suggest boy names.
3. We are under no obligation to accept the name provided to us, but if we do accept a suggested name, the suggestor will win one free "babysit the Avendano's dog, sitting session."


Name on!

Is it really her fault?

Okay, okay. Its not my wife's fault that I have not blogged in the last three months. I made it up. Sorry, honey.

The truth is, its the Dog's fault!

Enjoying maui, part II

Its a lazy afternoon here in maui. Which was needed after this morning's sunrise tour to the volcano.

I wish I could say we were up at the butt crack of dawn, but to do so is a huge understatement.

This morning we got up at the crack of the butt crack of dawn. At 2:00 am we were up and getting ready to meet our tour guide in the lobby of the hotel.

1 hour later we were at a local convinence store buying coffee and looking for a snack to eat.

After settling for some boring pastry next to the donought island we made our way to the counter. And while paying, to my surprise, I got the biggest treat of my early morning life. Behind the counter were piping hot fresh Manapuas.

I couldn't believe it, this convinent store had fresh manapuas.

I love me some manapuas.

If you don't know what manapuas are let me explain.

Manapuas are white in color and resemble pizza dough balls prior to being cooked. However, manapuas are fully cooked and in the center of them are filled with one of many fillings. The one I had this morning had a traditional filling of pork.

Bitting into a manapua has no comparisson. Although I will say this, the meat filling is fabulous and the dough salty and sweet flavor.

I didn't share any of my manapua with MaryAnn, altough she did offe me some of the pastry we bought. I didn't see the need to offer since she probalt wouldn't have like it anyways. Nonetheles, why chance it to only find out she really does like 'em? Then I'm stuck trading half of my manapua for some day old stale pastry.

-- Ramon

P.S. The sunrise and the volcano were cool, we got lots of pictures.

--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

Enjoying maui

We are in our second day in maui and are enjoying the traditionally popular event: relaxing in a cabana on the beach in front of our hotel.

Sex is GOOD.

More details to come.

--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

Desires

I told MaryAnn the other day that I want to learn to play the piano. I think deep down-inside me, I believe, I have a hidden talent -- a prodigy, of sorts.

Now, I'm not saying I'm a prodigy. But I have a craving and yearning to deeply express myself via the piano.

There's something mysterious about engaging your whole body, mind and soul into an activity that when done right, produces some phenomenal music.


Saturday (June 17) is 4 days away

Four days and counting...

Since our wedding date has approached the 'days' instead of the 'months', I've been keeping a running count.

Today is precisely four days away till I marry her and she marries me.


A future Hope

The future hope of us getting married is so soon and so far away. These last few days seem to wallow in drudgery. And in turn, these last four days seem "to soon" to get married.

This future hope of marriage is a ubiquitous euphoria that one day will realize itself. To get to that day requires work. Some of that work has been joyful. Other parts have been tedious.

My running count of joyful vs. tedious right now has tedious winning 5 to 1.

Now before I get strung up by my toes for making such an "insensitive" remark...I say as Jesus said:

"A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world."

So, we too will forgot our 'tedious' pains of getting married and then one day soon celebrate with joy!

12 days

Some days are easy, some days are hard.

Its hard for me to completely comprehend that we...that...I...are...am...getting married.

I know we are getting married, but it is hard for me to comprehend that we are getting married.

12 days remain. I know there is great beauty ahead. And I know there is hardship ahead as well.

There is joy and there is pain.

I stand at the crest, dawning a new time.

I think of the disciples becoming disciples, for the first time since their natural birth they would know a new life -- one packed with joy and pain.

 

I'm sure they welcomed they joy and squirmed off the idea of pain. But as they grew in Christ, they somehow, God-led, welcomed the pain.

 

Us too. May we welcome the joy and may we not dwell on the future pains. Rather, may we accept them and deal with them as they come.

 

This I need help in.
 

Where to start?

Today was better than yesterday.

Yesterday was filled with much anxiety, fear and just plain believing some lies. I often forget God's words in trying times. And at times, I fail to put God's word into practice.

Life.

The last 10 monts have brought some great joy and some trying times. Since August:

- We sold my house by UNLV

- MaryAnn and I got engaged

- We've been planning a fat wedding -- fat to be understand as "damn...this is hard, overwhelming stuff"

- We've bought a new house

- We've been furnishing the new house

- We've moved MaryAnn in

- We had some hard fights, but well-learned lessons

- We've come to love each other so much more

- We get married in 18 days


Car accident.

The new car is out of commision for another 15 days.

On Friday, May 12, some guy wasn't watching and rear-ended me on the intersection of Green Valley Parkway and the I-215.

As of yet, a rental car has not been provided by his insurance. But thank God, my mother allows me to drive her boat (Mercury Grand Marqui)

Dinner tonight.

This evening I'm having dinner with MaryAnn and some guy she was 'Best Friends' with in High School. She hasn't seen him since high school and was recently reunited with him.

I'm told that there was nothing ever romantic, but I'm curious to see how things play out this evening. I'm sure he's a nice guy, but what if he comes out and says "I need to tell you that ...." -- you fill in the blanks.

But like I said, I'm sure it'll be fine. Really, I'm sure he is cool.

Nonetheless, we are having dinner at one of my favorite cuban places. 'Rincon Criollo' has the best Cuban food at the best prices.

Immigration Issue

In light of it, please remember, we are human.

Here is a spanish song by the group Mana that I have translated.

Pobre Juan

Juan se lanzo marchandose al norte
iba en busca de una vida digna
cruzando Mexico por valles y por montes
iba Juan lleno de fe.

La historia es que Juan se iba a casar
con Maria embarazada
pero el no tenia ni un centavo
ni un clavo que darle.

Pero este Juan iba muy decidido
y a la frontera el llego con todo el filo.

Se conecto con el mero mayor de los coyotes
y la historia le conto:

Mire usted que yo quiero cruzarme ya
a San Diego o Chicago,
digame usted lo que hago
que precio le pago.

Juan ya nunca regreso,
en la linea se quedo,
pobre Juan
o la migra lo mato
o el desierto lo enterro,
pobre Juan.

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Juan le enseno al coyote
una foto de Maria
con la cual se casaria,
le prometio que el regresaria
para formar todo un hogar.

Pero el coyoto a Juan lo traiciono
dejandolo al olvido,
de tres balas se tronaron a Juan,
pobre de Juan,
no regreso

no, oh.

Juan ya nunca regreso,
en la linea se quedo,
pobre Juan
o la migra lo mato
o el desierto lo enterro,
pobre Juan
y Maria lo fue a buscar
y ella nunca lo encontro,
desaparecio,

oh...

Poor Juan

Juan marched north
he sought a dignified life
crossing Mexico's mountains and valleys
full of faith Juan went

The story is that he was to be married
with Maria pregnant
he had not one cent in his pocket
nor one pot, nor window

But our Juan, determined, he went
He arrived at the border amongst all the others in line

Talking to the best of the best Coyotes, Juan told his story:

"Understand, I want to cross
to San Diego or Chicago, I don't care
tell me what I should do
what must I pay?"

Juan never returned
at the border he stayed
Poor Juan
Immigration killed him
the desert swallowed his body
Poor Juan

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Juan showed the Coyote
a photo of Maria
the one he is to marry,
he promised to return
establishing a new home

But the Coyote betrayed Juan
Forgetting about Juan
with three bullets they shoot Juan
Poor Juan
he did not return

oh, no.

Juan never returned
at the border he stayed
Poor Juan
Immigracion killed him
the earth ate his body
Poor Juan
And Maria went looking for him,
never finding him, he disappeared,
oh...

As a side note:

If certain legislation is passed, I guees I might become a felon.

My father was illgeal at one time and I aided him.

Do I get to go to jail for that?

If so, bring it on!

Mariachi Band?

I'm looking for one that is reasonably priced and available June 17, 2006.

Please do not send me any leads that will cost me $850/hr.

Thanks.

Ramon

Missing my father
Johnny Cash, Hurt

On an island of all bequeath things

I stand along with thee

You sit with me

a cloud of witnessing things

How could it be

arrived on an island of all bequeath things

The road you traveled landed me here

I'm surrounded by water

I look to the sky to see the stars

You've bequeath me to this island

traversing the desert you landed me here

The island I stand

nothing in common with the desert you traveled

traversed, two million miles away

I look up to the sky

There the star that shined

All the same

When you were alive

Sitting in the car

you told me that you were sorry

Sorry for not giving more than what you did

How could I ask for me --

although I myself thought wanted more

All I need is you

you are not the one who sat in the recliner this morning

who does he think he is

He has no idea of what he did
he has no idea of what he did

You are the one to sit in the chair
you are the one to sit in the chair

No one else can sit there

How he dare.

MySpace

I don't know why I did this, but I did.

Here you go: click here

Very good wine

Rosa regale sparkling red (Italy)
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

Today I am 30

30 years ago this day around 10 a.m. I was born :-)

Am I supposed to make a speech since I am 30 now?

Happy Birthday, me!

Makes me sad

I was making a lunch run today and ran into friend/aquantense of my brother's.

He made some comments that were odd for him. Although he has never spoken ill of my brother to me, today, he had something nice to say about my brother. But, he said it in a slightly depricating tone, that as I drove back to the office it hit me--this guy is depressed.

It makes me sad that he is depressed. I've know him for many years.

Its easy to spot someone who is depressed, when you yourself have been depressed.

I need to pray for him. He is Jewish by culture and is agnostic by religion.

I pray for the healing of his heart, mind and soul. I pray that all blinding factors be removed. I pray for his soul to be free and lifted of malice. And that repentance be the condition of his heart. I pray for a grace that props him up like the ocean props up ships.

Proposed. Engagement.

I was told today by one of my co-workers that I now have a fiancé.

"Interesting and scary", I thought. Just 24-hours ago I had a girlfriend.

Last night I gave the talk/sermon/talk at the gathering. I spoke on faith.

The main idea of the talk was to look at the perspective of faith...not the idea of faith, but rather, the object of our faith -- Jesus.

I'm not quite sure how good of a job I did. There were a few moments where I blundered and forgot to say some things. In addition, I'm not sure how effective the talk was, so I'm not quite sure how well it was received. My hope was that it hit the home of everyone's heart. If that happened, then I am happy.

Last night's talk had two purposes: give a talk on faith and then make a transition to propose to MaryAnn in presence of our community.

Toward the end of my talk, I spoke on the idea of faith and marriage--and my internal/mental struggles with it. As I made the transition into that realm, I asked MaryAnn to stand up and look toward the back on the sanctuary. At first she was reluctant and asked "why". I responded with "just turn around."

When she did, she saw her entire family sitting in the last row. That was one of my gifts to her. I thought it to be a good to sneak her family into the sanctuary and be present for the proposal.

Upon seeing her family, she immediately knew what was coming next. But instead of proposing to her, I continued talking a wee-bit longer. I proceeded to thank Greg for the opportunity and then spoke to the crowd. In the mean while, MaryAnn was on the edge of her seat--rooting me on--to hurry up with the proposal. It was actually quite cute.

So, then, I said, walking toward her, "I've never done this before ... umm...MaryAnn, can I have your hand in marriage."

I'm thankful she said yes. Phew!

2 funerals and 1 hospital visit

The last two weeks have brought two deaths and one hospital visit.

The first death was a young gentlmen who lived across the street. At the age of 33 he died of a massive heart attack. He leaves one son behind who will now most likely struggle whith what it means not having a father.

The second death is my boss' mother. She died after a 12 year battle with Alzyhimers. Year after year she got progressively worse. And last tuesday, she succomed to her illness. Here is a link on the LV Sun website regarding her life -- clik here.

Over the weekend, Emily (MaryAnn's sister), had emergency gallbladder surgery. After the long hours in the ER, being sent home at 3 a.m.--only to come back hours later--she is one organ less and is resting well.

A new identity

For a while I have been wanting to change my blog name to truly and more accurately reflect my true self.

It has been a long, treacherous and joyful journey with Jesus. And the time has come to make a change in my blog name.

It may not seem like a big deal ... or rather, it may seem like a petty or stupid thing to do. But I think its crucial.

My new blog name will now be: Proliferating Santos

Previously, it was Proliferating menzos -- which is an anglo/spanish combinational term meaing "multiplying dummies".

I don't think I ever considered myself a dummy, altough sometimes I sure felt like one. But even a greater tragedy, is that, I believed its spiritual synonymical counterpart: worthless, ignoramous, artificial, fake, false, etc.

Although I haven't come full circle in embracing my true identity as a Santo (Saint), I do know that continually I will try to engage what God says and thinks of me.

And exactly what is a Santo? A Santo is "one separated from the world and consecrated to God; one holy by profession and by covenant; a believer in Christ." (Ps. 16:3; Rom. 1:7; 8:27; Phil. 1:1; Heb. 6:10).

Sometimes ... alot if times ... I am wrong

I'm realizing that I am miss hearing things as of late and am reacting in poor ways.

To MaryAnn, I am sorry for failing to be quick to listen and slow to speak.

To my mother, I am sorry for failing to be quick to listen and slow to speak.

Father, thank you for forgiving me. May your kind, healing, loving hand be upon me.

Ramon

The last time

I was with a co-worker today visiting a nursing home. My co-worker has a friend that desperately needs to get into a licensed, nursing facility, where he'll get true treatment.

On the way back from the facility, we talked a little about my father and how his situation parallels her friends situation. As I shared with her my last time helping my father from the couch to his wheelchair to his bed, I explained that I treated him with such care--unbeknownst to me--that this was my last time doing this. I explained how I handled my father with absolute care and went the extra mile for him.

As I pondered our conversation a few minutes ago, sitting here at my desk, I tearfully realized that my God, my Father, My Lord, caused me to care for him in such a diligent manner, contradicting any and all other incidents where I was not as patient or generous or loving as I could have been.

I am thankful that I have this glimpse now but need to ponder on it much deeper. It needs to sink into me much deeper.

Malinche

"Go with your daddy" coos my mother, as she gently strokes her body. As the evening came upon us, our dog laid her head on her paws and drifted into a deep sleep. This evening we put our dog to sleep, her name is Malinche.

As the nurses prep our dog's catheter, I stand in the hallway waiting for them to call us back into the room. Standing and waiting, leaning against the wall, I close my eyes and pray. Speaking to God, not being able to find any verses in the bible about dog's departing earth and heading to heaven, I ask God, that if possible, to please allow her into heaven. For I reason, what wrong has this dog done, that to suppose if such a wrong existed to warrant her arrest into Hades, then why shouldn't I ask Father to allow her into heaven.

Praying, and not wanting to be overcome with emotion, I keep my eyes closed, but not immediately realizing that my lips are moving. As one of the nurses walks by, I end my prayer, awaiting for the door to open which will allow us to reunite with Malinche.

Upon the door opening, there lay Malinche looking at us. Her catheter lay firm to her leg, bandaged with fluorescent green tape. Making our way to Malinche, we stroke her body, pat her head and gently tap her snout.

In walks the doctor. Dr. somthing -- I don't recall her name -- is pleasant and explains to us the quick and allegedly painless procedure. Although it maybe painless, and the best we try to not let onto Malinche that what remain ahead for her, are her last breathes, I'm sure she senses that not all is right; so how can it be painless?

After the the doctor tested the line, she procedes to inject -- what seems to be a huge vile of pink fluid -- into Malinche's leg. Not much happens at first but after a few seconds, Malinche begins licking the sides of her mouth. Continuing to lick, she slowly lowers her head down onto her paws. Resting her head onto her paws, Malinche stops licking.

Malinche takes one huge breathe of air into her lungs and then exhales. The doctor slides over to one side of Malinche, placing her stethoscope on her rib cage. As the doctor speaks, telling us that her heart has now stopped, Malinche exhales one final breathe.

Malinche was a good, faithful dog, who was treated well by my mother, and deserved better treatment from me.

She is the type of human friend that all could ever want and all that everyone needs.

I have one picture of her. Its her being held by my father in his arms. May that picture be ever truer now than when it was in the past.

One last belly rub for you Malinche, we love you.

My Pops

Today I think of my father
I'm reminded of him through such a simplistic song
Such a profound song it is, it makes me cry

Somewhere over the rainbow, Israel K sings
His sultry and phonetically clean Hawaiian voice accompanied with his ukelele
transforms this dramatized, distant song, into a captured dream

Israel sings of where my father be

Someday I wish upon the star
wake up where the clouds far behind me
where trouble melts like lemon drops
high above the chimney top that's where you will find me

I see me father calling out to me, reminding me of where he sits
calling me, telling me, he is proud of me...

To write such words fills me
causing the sorrow to flow out of me
mysteriously filling me with both sorrow and joy

How I wish I could re-spend his last days with me over and over again

But to know that he sits high above the chimney top
the place to find him and be with him
I shall strive to live for him
so I can be with him and once again see him

How I wish people could have known my father when he was physically well
What a great man of joy he is and was.

Como te amo y como te quiero

An interesting first

As the lady slipped her arms around me she says, "hold that up to your nipple line"

Nipple Line...what the hell is that. I don't have nipples; girls have nipples!

Today was the first day I went to the gym and actually have a trainer.

See me as Owen Wilson

http://www.weddingcrashersmovie.com/crashthistrailer/index.htm?id=103279

House sold

My house sold today for listing price....yeah!

Let's such hope and pray that this doesn't fall through.

Ramon
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

Re: Fishing in SF Part II

Fishing didn't go as planned.

Originally I was the only who was going to fish, but in the rush this morning I mistakenly bought Maryann a pass to fish.

One mile out to sea, I became violently ill and threw up into the ocean. I have never been so ill my life. I threw up so much and so hard that my throat was raw for the bile. Sorry for the visual.

4 miles out to sea I threw up again but this time I didn't make it to the side of the boat. The plastic bag that maryann gave me saved me. But again, so violent that my throat was shreddeds to pieces.

After our second stop to cast our lines, Captain Joey was hooping-n-hollaring and was banging on the window. He then yells out to maryann and I “you all got a fish”.

I say, “honey, you go.” Maryann sprung to her feet, took the pole from the captain, and then spent 20 minutes realing in a 23 lb Salmon.

Her salmon was so big and beating everyone else out on the boat, she won the pool for the biggest fish. We are now $75 richer.

More to follow later.
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

-----Original Message-----

Our fishing expedition has begun. It is foggy and the temp is good. Will send more details later.
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

Fishing in SF

Our fishing expedition has begun. It is foggy and the temp is good. Will send more details later.
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

Maybe a first

We are sitting in theater waiting for the movie to start and all the sudden the fire alarms goes off.

In a pathetically grinding voice, s woman's voice comes from the speakers “attention please, attention, please...an emergwncy has been reported, an emergency ha been reported.”

This last 20 minutes. Maybe we should have left, but the lights just went off and maryann keeps proding me to turn off my blackbeery.

I hope batman has been worth this wait.

--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

One Year

This day, one year ago, in the wee hours of the morning, my Father realized his new kingdom.

This has been one of the hardest years of my life, which says a lot since most other years have been filled with trauma.

I just returned from lunch with a friend/slash co-worker. She remembered that this was my Father's one-year anniversary. As I shared with her my current emotional and spiritual state, I shared the news of the kingdom as well. It was not planned.

One the car ride back to the office I felt slight shame for feeling the way I do and trying to share the kingdom at the same time. And then a thought entered my mind. I was reminded of Jesus being in need of water and in his need he supplied water for woman at the well.

I miss my Father greatly. I miss him even more when I think of all the mistakes I made toward him or the hurts I caused him.

This afternoon I will visit his grave with my mother.

Please think of us. Please pray for us. Please think of my father and his joy.

Thing(s) I will not blog about*

- making fun of my girlfriend

* note: 71 is a great number

Last Call. Late Notice.

this saturday, I along with a few friends are painting the inside of my house.

If anyone who reads this can spare a few hours and can help out a brother, please call me.

My cell number is 580.6919

Here is a link to a map: http://maps.google.com/maps?q=3077+Aldon+Ave,+Las+Vegas,+NV+89121&ll=36.106578,-115.107011&spn=0.021912,0.038482&hl=en

The painitng gig will be between 9 am - 5 pm.

There will be free food...food of choice (within reason of course).

I could really use the help. And if you send me $29.95, I will send you an autograph photo with hugs and kisses.

Don't wait.

This offer expires soon.

Act now or forever be out of luck!

Clarification

Some have asked what I meant when I wrote: "with one quick, unintetional move, a grown man is left in pain."

I thought the wity, clever comment would explain it well. I guess it wasn't that wity or clever, and the explanation didn't come through either.

After explaining the situation in detail to Tommy and Gregg S., Gregg says: "you're supposed to say that you hurt the boys..."


So, leaving you with Gregg's words, what I meant to say is that "I hurt the boys."

Thank you, Gregg.

Ramon

Schools out, Grades are in, Good news!

I am so happy to report that I received A's in both my classes:

World Literature: A
Intro to Computer Science: A

I am so happy and thank God for his blessing in this.

Amen!

Sitting at Dennys studying for my final

With one quick, unintentional move, a grown man is left in pain.
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

What's wrong with that?

Yesterday Maryann and I were running some coaxial cable from the cable splitter to the guest room.

As we're working, she turns to me and says, “I want to go to mt. Charleston next week.” I ask why.

She responds with, “its the one year anniversary of our first date.”

So, I ask, “do I have to go.”

Let's just say, lucky for me, she knew I was half joking...otherwise I would still be working one the cable line.
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

New email Address

Please send emails to my new address:

razor7132 at gmail.com

I can still receive email at my cox.net address, but I thought it best to switch over to gmail.

Thanks.

Ramon

Tid bits

* I've been studying for the last several hours. My study shack for today has been this cubby hole between quiznos and starbucks on sahara and marylandparkway.

* I'm killing time studying waiting for maryann to finish training the $65/hr consultant who is filling in at her old job. Sad thing is, maryann gets paid $15/hr to train the consultant.

* while I've studied today, I've seen and heard six or seven ambulances/fire trucks go by...those things are particularly loud today.

* while I've sat and studied today, I drank down a toxic mixture of low carb sobre and diet coke. Two 32-ounce glasses causes a man too pee excessively.

* Another ambulence just past--this one wasn't as obnoxiously loud.

* I'm writing a crtique on Dante's inferno for my world lierature class. His biblical assumptions and parallism are utterly wrong. We'll see how I do, hopelly I can get an A.

* Its interesting how many groups of people hang out at starbucks.

Peace.
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

You move

You held me through the storm
You walk with me through hell
You showed me that you indeed were tempted and can relate

No temptation is a surprise to you
Nothing overcomes you
Nothing surprises you

I can finally relate
May I always relate

When the day comes that I believe I can't relate
Remind of the day you showed me that you really could relate
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

Smoking coco's

I'm sitting at coco's, the one across the street from unlv.

The air is dense--filled with smoke --coming from the lonely manager sitting way in the back.

Once my food comes and I get some studying done, I flying this coupe.
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

Another test

test

Smelly tests are funny

I laughed when I read Cheryl and Kenny's remarks to my last entry; their remarks were funny.

The reason for the "this is a test" is that I was testing my blog's RSS feed.

Onto the subject of smelly

Kenny Parker ... his last blog entry http://kennyparker.blogspot.com/2005/03/we-have-got-to-get-it-together-we-have.html reminded me of an incident that happened when I was at Wal-mart the other day.

While I was cruising the dog food isle, this old lady walks past me. When she get about 15 feet away, she rips the nastiest fart ever. Thankfully I did not smell anything, but the sound was just horrible and indicating that that puppy was gonna be stinky.

this is a test

Pens

Have you every chewed on the end of a pen for so long that the pen errupts in you mouth?

Ink don't taste too good.

No, this wasn't my first time.

A little late -- 60 to 45

I don't know when it started but one of my defecencies in life is returning rental movies on time.

I'm always late. And with all the late fees I've racked up, I could have bought all of the movies I have rented.

With that said, last saturday I bit the bullet and paid my late charges at blockbusters. My late charges steam prior to blockbuster launching their "no more late charges" policy. Sucky for me.

When I went up to the counter, I informed the girl behind the register that I owed some money and to not hollar out the amount I owe.

She smiled, then proceeded to discount my bill.

So, in appreciation, I say thank you, "J".

Ramon

Fortunate Son

I like this song -- no, it is not my way to protest the war, I just like the song.

Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
Ooh, they’re red, white and blue.
And when the band plays hail to the chief,
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, lord,

It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son, son.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no,

Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, don’t they help themselves, oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,

It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no millionaire’s son, no.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no.

Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, lord,
And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooh, they only answer more! more! more! yoh,

It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no military son, son.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, one.

It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate one, no no no,
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate son, no no no,

Today is my Birhtday

Happy Birthday, me.

I'm 29 today.

A Weighty Truth

In my pursuit to lose weight, I'm sad to report that I actually gained 4 pounds.

My co-workers subtly shunned me. I could see it in their faces.

I am sadden.

The truth is I have not been diligent with my plan. In regards to food, its been a 90% effort. The occasional late night snacking mixed with eatting massive amounts of carbs this weekend did not help cause at today's weigh-in.

On the exercise front, I'm wracked with disappoint--I am not doing what I said I was going to do. The idea of working out each night has transpired to only three times over the last two weeks.

There's my confession. Now the changing of the mind must succeed.

Meal schedule

I figure it would be a good idea to write down or at least try to keep track of what I eat each day.

so, here it goes ...

Thursday -- 01/13/05
* breakfast - 2 quesidillas on low carb tortilla (8 g / carbs)
* snack - diet coke and powerbar, carb select(2 g / carbs)
* lunch - 1/2 and order of fingers with ranch (2 g / carbs)
* snack - 1/2 and order of fingers with ranch(2 g / carbs)
* dinner - 1.5 servings of low carb spaghetti, salad (10 g / carbs)
* snack - powerbar, carb select (2 g / carbs)

total carbs: 26 g / carbs

Note: I forgot what I ate on wednesday, so I can't post it.

Tuesday -- 01/11/05
* breakfast - 1 ham and egg burrito on low carb tortilla (5 g / carbs)
* snack - Chicharrones [prok rins] (1 g / carbs)
* lunch - 1 ham and egg burrito on low carb tortilla & low-card yogurt (8 g / carbs)
* snack - powerbar, carb select (2 g / carbs)
* dinner -5 chicken thighs, one low carb tortilla and cheese( 5g / carbs)
* snack - 2 cups of half/half with splashes of corn flakes(25 g/ carbs)

total carbs: 46 g / carbs

Note: Too many carbs this day. I had been miscalculated the half/half with splashes of corn flashes -- I'm giving them up.

Monday -- 01/10/05
* breakfast - powerbar, carb select (2 g / carbs)
* snack - half of a low carb chocholate bar (1.5 g / carbs)
* lunch - (3) .99 cent caesar salads frim wendy's (6 g / carbs)
* snack - other half of low carb choch. bar and a powerbar, cab select (3.5 g / carbs)
* dinner - 2 steak, cheese burritos on low carb tortillas (12 g / carbs)
* snack - cup of half/half with some reg. milj with a splash of corn flakes (14g / carbs)

total carbs: 39 g / carbs

Note: I've recalculated my first count of carbs...I was wrong about the half/half with flakes.

Weigh-in

Today 10 of us at VEGAS.com have weighed in, placed our money on the table and got up on the scale.

We have banded together to lose weight and hopefully for the biggest loser make a few bucks.

Yes, the idea partly comes from the TV show "The Biggest Loser", but our main inspiration is health...and the money ain't bad either. Ten people at $100 is 10 benjamins. And we know its all about the benjamins, right?

Yesterday while at Costco on some obscure isle, I weighed myself. Right before getting on the scale I instructed Maryann not to look. She didn't, which I am glad for. The scale broke my heart. But on the flip side, at least I didn't break the scale.

According to yesterday's weigh in I am pushing 242 pounds. But at today's weigh in, using two different scales, I registered at 233. I'm somewhat happy that both scales said 233 cause that means I don't weigh 242.

Nonetheless, I have 40 pounds to lose in 3 months. I know that sounds a little extreme, but in high school I did loose 50 pounds in three months. And over 11 years gained it all back plus some.

I want to loose 40 pounds not so much for the money, rather for the health aspect. If I loose 40 pounds and don't win the money that is okay because that means one of my other co-workers lost more than I did.

The way the contest works is based off the percentage of weight you loose. For example, If I weigh 233 and loose 40 pounds, that's 17 percent of my body weight. Not bad.

Now the wild card in this contest is if our largest co-worker looses 76.5 pounds. With that, he ties my percentage. All he needs to do then is loose 77.5 pounds and he beats me.

There are few others who are +/- 10 pounds of where I am at. They will be good competitors and may even surpass me which is cool.

Come Sunday, April 10, 2005, I hope to be 40 pounds lighter or near that.

My strategy

A realistic workout plan: situps and girlie pushups along with an evening brisk walk.

My eating workout: 5 or 6 meals a day, low carb.

Suggestions

If you have any suggestions or concerns, feel free to post 'em. If you want to invite me to go work out, please do. But one favor I do ask, please do not invite to a buffet.

Here's to weight loss and a healthy life.

Peace!

I need a haircut -- the big afro guys is me

Movements Part II

The paperwork has been sign, so it must be official.

Starting Jan 17, 2005, I begin working reduced hours in an effort to pursue a Master's Degree in Management Information Systems (MIS).

My first day of class is January 19. In order to apply for grad school I need to retake two courses that I got bad grades in. And in March, I will hopefully take my GMAT.

I am super excited about this move. Its a win-win situation for my employers and me.

Its a huge, bold move for me and has come via many awesome things coming together.

Father, brothers and sisters are the biggest influencers in making it happen.

I am happy.

Movements Part I ...

Dearest Kate,

It is true that your love is sweeter than ice cream

You make me feel wonderfully neat

Your love is completing...I need to understand that

I want you to know how much I love you

May my actions and deeds speak these words to you...I love you

It has really hit me: I need you, I love you and I want you

I would be be so sad if our journey were to cease

May our paths be together as we sojourn in this land

Then in a glimpse may we find ourselves together in our true completing land

Love,
Jack

To Cedar, Duck Creek and back

I am sure glad to be home.

I know two things for sure: I don't like snowed in cabins and I don't want to go back in the winter time.

The only slightly fun place I have ever been in Utah has been in Park City. Every other place has been very, very boring.

Making my way to Duck Creek I found out that the 14 (its and interstate/highway) was closed due to snow. So, I was stuck in St. George for a night. After securing a room at the Best Western I went to dinner and then went to see Ocean's 12.

The movie sucked, I feel a sleep. There weren't many people in the theater so I sat way in the back. I must have been snoring Real Hard cause the girls 6 rows in front of me moved even further away from me while I was catching some shut-eye.

These girls seemed to be a little perturbed at my snoring. I felt bad that I was snoring but I didn't think it was that bad. But it must have been, cause as I walked to my car one of the girls was giving me a George W scowl.

I am sure glad to be home.

Did I mention I hate the snow?

Michelle and Darren -

you both make me laugh.

:-)

In mormon country

In mormon country

Its funny how many eyes stare at me because of the color of my skin.
If I was white, I wouldn't have this issue.

And why do they stare at me? Don't they know that I am unredeemable-the curse of cain thing will do that to you.

Currently stuck in st. George ... I'll write more when the snow clears in cedar.

Peace!
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

Since my last blog ...

1. courtesy VEGAS.com, I got three free nights at Golden Nugget in downtown

2. stayed one night at the GN with maryann and my mom (she was our chaperone)

3. flew to El Paso, TX and back in a 24-hour period for a Quinceniera.

4. while in El Paso, my mom, maryann and her sister (emily) enjoyed a girls night out at the GN [emily is now hooked on nickel slots courtesy of my mom].

5. came back from El Paso and went straight to the GN.

6. started my two week vacation (I am now on my 4th day).

7. my sister and 5 nieces and nephews came into town for a visit.

8. I have been to the mall only once, but stayed there for 5 hours ... blah!

9. went to Fantastic indoor flee market (my sister's idea).

10. went christmas shopping at Best Buy and frys (I should have bought Napoleon Dynomite at Frys when I had the chance).

11. saw a movie -- the incredibles -- much better than I expected. [side note: why do they make cartoon women look hot?].

12. rented the movie Collateral four days ago but just watched it last night.

13. I've had some necessary but good, healing time in prayer, reading, confession and learning to hold on to truth.

In honor of DR -- One of my favorites

There's somethin' happenin' here.
What it is ain't exactly clear.
There's a man with a gun over there
A-tellin' me I've got to beware.

I think it's time we stop.
Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin' down.

There's battle lines bein' drawn.
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong.
Young people speakin' their minds
A-gettin' so much resistance from behind.

I think it's time we stop.
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin' down.

What a field day for the heat.
A thousand people in the street
Singin' songs and a-carryin' signs
Mostly sayin' hooray for our side.

It's time we stop.
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin' down.

Paranoia strikes deep.
Into your life it will creep.
It starts when you're always afraid.
Step out of line, the men come and take you away.

You better stop.
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin'..
You better stop.
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin'..
You better stop.
Now, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin'..
You better stop.
Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin

Upon further review

An ode to the Relyea's family member

You are round
You are brown

You snort
You fart
You smell

You breath heavy
You have bad breathe

You are a dominatrix
You are sensitive to the touch

You have no one to blame but yourself

You have comsumed too many nibbles and bits

You fat chihuhua ... it is all your fault

Lay off them damn treats!

"Tina, you fat lard... you haven't done anything all day."

Movements

I've been having movements lately. Pushing forward and doing my best to leave certain things behind.

I'm planing to keep pressing forward in faith that it is the right thing to do.

More is to come ...

That day

The day my father died I took my car for its smog test.

Not a usual thing to do, eh? I mean, doesn't it seem odd that the day my father dies, I go out and get my car smogged?

That day has been seared into my brain. My father's death was burdening and liberating, but no less painful.

I'm thankful I smogged my car that day, it spoke of my freedom.

I'm sorrowful that I smogged my car that day, it cost my father his life.

My friend, Greg went with me to smog my car that day.

I don't remember all of our concersation, but I remember being with him.
I remember feeling both of our awkwardness.
I remember feeling his love.
I remember feeling his compassion.
I remember feeling his pain for me.
I remember feeling his friendship.

I speak to all of you who read this. Please, identify those people in your life who are in need. Those people who are in greater need than you are today. Give those people the freedom to do what they are called to do.

Liberate those people who need to get their cars smogged.
Liberate those people who need to walk their dogs.
Liberate those people who need to make a meal.
Liberate those people who need to do what it is they need to do.

Greg, thank you.

Love, Ramon

Its been a while

I have so much to say.

Right now I am listening to Boston (More than a feeling) on luanch cast.

I need to Apologize to my freind Debbie. She emailed me last week and I haven't emailed her back. Debbie, I'm sorry.

It has not been my intention to igonore my friends or my blog, but work has been bruttal. There was a two week period where my boss was out (his wife has his baby). While he was at home acclamating to Daddy life, we (kelly 'my co-worker and friend' and me) were holding down the fort. We worked 10, 11, 12, 13 hour days. Lots of fun, lots of headaches. Overall, it was good and very hard.

Tonight, we are still at work. Its another late night. That sucks.

* Went to the doctors two weeks ago. I had been having these weird pains in my chest, stomach, side and my back (on the left side). I thought of all the possibilities of what it could have been: heart attack, cancer, fungus, whatever else came to mind.

The doc believes it is my gall bladder. I'm still waiting to have my ultra sound. Doc's office and insurance suck.

* This past weekend was hard...it was my 10 year high school reunion. Maryann and I enjoyed oursleves. I'm very sad that I won't see these people for a long time. Believe it or not, I really miss these people and quazi community I had with them. I pray for them. I miss them. I am sad.

* in 4 days it will be my father's 4 month anniversary of being dead/alive. On his 3 month anniversary, I bought 2 cigars, and two bottles of water. I sat with my dad at his gravesite and smoked the cigars and shared my bottles of water with him. I smoked both cigars and talked with my dad. I miss him. I feel all the more sad when I remember him in his illness. Thinking of him in his illness leaves me feeling empty. The emptiness hurts. When I think of my father being in heaven, I don't feel as sad.

When my father was sick, he used to lay on the couch. He couldn't do anything else. Would it have killed me to not have gone to work any one of those days? I miss him. I cry.

It is true that I did alot for him and for my mother and for myself. But in all that, it wasn't enough. Gosh, I wan't to spend more time with him. It's so not fair.

I need to go sit with him again and talk and smoke. Maybe we both need a drink. Well, at least I know I do for sure. I really doubt he does.

Darren

I went out of town this Labor Day weekend. And while I was gone, Darren visited with my mother.

He didn't ask me if it was okay, he didn't announce it to me, he just went and hung with her. He was her friend. And brining nibbles (his over-weight, extremely large Chihuahua) helped spark some conversation, I'm sure :-)

Thanks, Darren.

Love,

Ramon

The American Attitude Within Us

What I am going to say will piss some people off. Some people will be offended, others will be hurt. I am not writing to piss people off, nor am I wanting to offend -- but ultimately and unfortunately -- I will cause hurt.

My purpose is to express my anger and to let my community know how I feel. But foremost, to shed light on the last year of my life, and my school of thought(s).

Here we go:

My mother and I were talking this morning about my father. Its always an interesting subject when we talk about him. Conversation about him are usually filled with sighs of relief, laughter, acknowledgement of pain and a sense of honorable duty (aka love).

During the last 6 months of my father's earthly life, my mother and I were bombarded with people's opinions on what to do with him. A prevalent attitude went something like this: "you can't keep going like this...you need to consider hospice." Others would say "we're here for you", but then they would never show up. Some stood by our side and served us with sadness and joy in their hearts (just as we are all called to do).

The issue I most want to address today is the prevailing American Attitude Within Us on hospice. I've come to learn that most people see hospice as a first resort when dealing with a terminal condition. At the outset, I want people to know that I am not against hospice. I understand the wonderful acts of mercy that they show and for that I appreciate hospice.

However, I do have anger, but my anger is not toward hospice. Rather, it is toward the American Attitude Within Us about hospice. The attitude that sees hospice as the first and only option. The attitude that CHOOSES not consider other available options. Admittedly, these other options come at a great sacrifice to those who choose them.

When my mom and I speak of my father and people's attitudes toward him and his care takers --namely my mother and I -- all in the guise of "consider your own sanity", I become very angry. I come to the point of having no other words on my venomous tongue than "Fuck that....what a fucking selfish attitude....that's a bunch of shit!"

Those words are the expression of my anger. I apologize for them and at the same time, make no apologies for them.

I don't understand why the American attitude is so bent on only seeing the option of hospice as being the only option. I believe that American's DO realize that there are other options out there. Options such as taking on the burdening task of being the care taker; or pleading with their community for help in a variety of ways. But these "other" options are mere fleeting thoughts, disipitating into the recesses of their minds. So, the only option available to them is hospice.

For those who see hospice as the first and only available option, my soul hurts for you. It hurts because those typically are the people who CHOOSE to not leave their well padded, well cushioned lives.

Those not wanting to leave their well padded, well cushioned life are the ones I primarily address these words to. These people share a similar ideology as those who on numerous occasions challenged us to consider hospice.

The challenge set before us always came packaged so nice and neat. The package had a pretty ribbon bow on top, and glittery wrapping paper hiding the ugliness of the package that lay inside. The package always centered around the idea of "considering Felix's condition and considering our own sanity."

Many of you wonder why that was such a bad thing to advise or why do you (Ramon) take such offense at that suggestion?

Very simply put, my father was not dead yet. There was fight in his eyes. His soul spoke to us through his eyes, through his grunts and through his complete being that he was still very much alive. He was not dead yet. He was still alive.

Had we wanted to abandoned my father, the quickest and surest thing that would have killed him, would have been to place him in hospice. And when people, who all had good intention, came around offering their pretty shiny present, they did nothing more than frustrate us and complicate the issue.

Offering us their pretty package of advice, unbeknownst to them, is similar to David offering Uriah a place to lay his head while his men fought on the battle field. Like Uriah, we too declined the offer of laying our head. Had we laid our head for one moment, we would have abandoned my father in spirit and ultimately would have killed him.

I implore you to not mistake my words as a straight and complete comparison between David's sinister act to those people who offered us their shiny, pretty package. On the contrary, these people were most likely good hearted in their attempts to "alleviate" our pain. But had we followed the terms to alleviate our own pain, we would have done nothing more than heap coals on my father's head. To alleviate our pain would have resulted in causing my father's death.

Yes, it its true that my father is dead momentarily, and his death was an inevitable end. Just like my father, we will all have our end and make the transition, finally seeing the full Kingdom that we only partially see now.

So, since my father is dead, some may wonder what the difference is...he is dead. What's the big deal on hospice. Whether he was in hospice or not, he was still going to die.

The deal on hospice for us is "abandonment". How selfish of us it would have been to have abandoned my father in the name of "our own sanity." My father was unable to abandon his call, so why should have we?

I am sure I have confused some of you readers; others I have offended. Many of you are friends, some are acquaintances and others are distant family. If I have confused you, I apologize for that. I have hurt you, I too apologize for that.

One thing I ask, please do not leave this reading without any recourse. Please feel free to post your thoughts and comments.

With full confidence and love,

Ramon

Etta James

"At last" I have found time to reinsert the blog links to my friend's blogs. I apologize for their temporary deletion. When I changed blog templates, all custom template changed were deleted.

I have been fortunate to hang out with many of these days. I eagerly await to hang out with many more of you. I think a lot about you guys and gals. I can say that emotions does run through me that cause joy and tears of joy to manifest themselves within me.

I really, really appreciate all of you. I wish I could see you all more often. I wish I could spend more intimate time with you all more often.

This weekend

This weekend was a good and hard weekend. I spent much of my time with people at Neil T. Anderson's conference: Freedom in Christ (Counseling Discipleship).

I had some great interaction with Chris, Debbie and Neil. What a blessing and an honor to be with all three.

I was so encourage by Debbie. It was so nice to have someone identify and join me in mutual emotions on various issues. She also served us well by leading us into singing to Father. I love you, Debbie.

I was so encourage by Chris. We listened intently on what Neil was saying. We laughed, but we didn't cry :-) Chris and I had lunch together, that was fun. I love you, Chris.

I was so encouraged by Neil as well. Father blessed me with a desire of my heart to meet Neil. The entire weekend, I believe, was totally a God thing. Everything happened that needed to happened or so at least it seemed. I love you too, Neil.

Long Days

Its 3:02 a.m. and I am still at work. I will be here till 4 a.m. and then back at 5:45 a.m.. Why go home? Exactly!

Tomorrow morning is going to suck even worse. Get up at 2 a.m. and test. Fun schedule. But its not that bad. I work with fun people.

The only unfortuante part is that my mom is at home all alone. Since my dad died, she doesn't like to be at home alone.

I have been sitting in this chair for 18 hours, periodically getting up mind you. My butt hurts. You think the extra cushion I have [that's a euphamism for I'm fat] would help out, but on the contrary, my butt almost feels rash. I think I may know how my father must have felt being confined in bed for many, many months. My poor dad used to get lots of rashes on his touche and his back. I love him, miss him and feel sorry for him. I have pitty for him

I miss you appa.

Love,

Ramon

Spiffers is gone

Sometime ago I imagined my father in heaven minding his own business when all of the sudden spiffers came along side my father. In my thoughts, I envisioned my father scooping up the doggy into his arms and holding him tight. I see the dog happy, with his mouth open and his tongue partially hanging out. The dog is happy. My father is happy.

In honor of spiffer ... an ode I give:

You came to us unwanted, you had no where to live
Your previous owners abandoned you, we took you in

From day one you took ownership of the house, peeing was your game
The corners of the carpet were no longer the same

You pranced and strutted around, strutting your youthful appearance
Jinglin', jinglin' from both the collar in the front and your manhood in the back

You were an aggressive teen, one who loved the ladies and disliked the men
The day came when you bit your owner in the face and so that became your demise

A few days latter you encountered your new self

A jinglin', jinglin' was now merely from the front, your manhood became a memory, a story of disgrace

You have departed from our presence, hopefully to soon be seen again
Your death was not natural, we submitted your forcefully into the bitter end

We dug a hole in that back yard deep enough to keep you from becoming food
we stood around your grave thinking of you

We search for a box but none could be found
we settle for a plastic bin which keeps you in the ground

We said a prayer of thankfulness and hope
that one day soon we should soon hear you again

But until that day, we will for now just think of you, our dear ol' sweet, crotchety friend

Life in the past month

So much has happened...that seems to be an understatement.

It's 7:40 p.m., it's a Friday and I am at work. This has been typical...the scenario has been the same over the last week and will only become a permanent facect for a while.

My Father died 38 days ago. I long for him. In my head, I vividly remember seeing him on his death bed. He looked peaceful -- full of life and completely devoid of life. I remember patting him on the check with my hand in hopes of waking him up. "Dad, dad, dad, wake up" I passed to him. His check absorbed the patting of my hand. His head moved slightly. "He gone, Ramon, he's gone" my mother said. I miss him.

What I get and what I don't get: my father is heaven...and I believe that. He's happy, but we hurt. We're supposed to be happy because he is in heaven, but we are supposed to be sad because he is not here. These are things that I get and don't get.

I identify with the woman who cried at Jesus' feet...why did my brother have to go...but I understand he will be resurrected. Jesus responds, "he will be resurrected." And so it was, Lazarus was resurrected.

During my father's funeral I intimately wished that God would raise my dad from the dead. The events ran through my mind: God could raise my father from the dead. My father would sit up in his casket. People all around would gasp. People would cry. We all would cry. I would cry. Utter amazement would over come us all. Some how news crews would get wind of the mighty resurrection and pounce onto scence at the funeral. Local anchormen and woman would interview my family and me. But, for my father's safety, we would prohibit interviews with my father. 3 days after my father had been resurrected, we would be on Larry King live. He would ask us, "why do you not allow people to interview your father, the resurrected one?" We/I would respond, it is best for him that way. A day later, the tabloids, in huge letters would print: "Resurrected man dies." And the circus would all be over.

On another note: I now have a girlfriend...what a weird but delightful thing.

Dear Family and Friends:

I write to inform you of my father's passing. On June 15, 2004, at 4 a.m.,
with my mother at his side, he took his last breath.

Funeral arrangements are:

The Viewing
June 21, 2004 (Monday)
Family hours: Noon - 1 p.m.
General hours: 1 p.m. - 7 p.m.

The Funeral (Tuesday)
June 22, 2004
Service: 1 p.m.
Grave-side service: 2:30 p.m.

Both the viewing and the funeral will be held at Bunkers Mortuary, 925 Las
Vegas Blvd. N. (across the street from Cashman field). In lieu of flowers,
my family would appreciate donations to off-set funeral costs.

For individuals needing a place to stay, my place of employment (VEGAS.com)
has been kind enough to provide people with great rates for Sunday, Monday
and Tuesday. The hotel is called Emerald Quarter Suites (4777 Cameron Dr.)
Please call 888-719-4040 and tell the travel service agent that you are with
Felix Avendano's funeral. The discount rate is $29.95 per night per room.

Phone calls and visits are welcomed. Phone calls can be made directly to my
cell at 580-6919. Visits are welcomed at my parent's home, 6222 Foothill
Blvd., Las Vegas, NV 89118. However, with that said, please call first :-)

We thank you all for you care, affection, thoughts and prayers.

With Love,

Ramon (on behalf of the Avendano Family)

Roommate wanted immediately -- can you help out a brutha'

We have an availability at my rental home. The roommates who currently live
there are looking for a roommate to fill the vacant room.

Specs on the room we are renting:

* Room size: 10 ft. X 11
* Close proximity to the hall bathroom
* Wall color of the room is a light gray (incoming person can paint it if
they'd like)
* Nice size closet


Some info about the house:

* 1650 sq. ft. 3 bedrooms, 2 bath.
* 2 living rooms
* 2 car garage
* Front yard
* Backyard has a Huge pool and decent size grass area
* Approximately 2 miles from UNLV
* The home address is 3077 Aldon Ave., Las Vegas, NV 89121


There are a few things we're looking for in a roommate:

* Preferably a guy, but a girl roommate may be considered.
* Has a legal source of income
* Should be able to get along with other people
* Pet's may be welcomed -- all depends on the pet

Rent:

* $275 + utilities (we may be able to work with the person on the rent cost
if need be)


Please call Ramon at 580-6919 or the house at 433-9952 if interested. If you
ain't interested but know someone, please tell them about this availability.

Thanks!

Ramon

FYI: I own the home and rent it out my friends, so I don't actually live
there.

Ineffective: Where's the local NAACP chapter, black?

I was watching a VH1 program on the band OUTKAST. After some airtime past, the program cut away to commercials.

Suddenly, a "black" guy appears on my screen. He's decked out in an "urban" ensemble - baggy white t-shirt, baggy blue jeans, a pair of name brand sneakers, a turned-sideways hat and next to his pearly whites he dawned a gold tooth.

Him being "black" and wearing his "urban" ensemble bothered me greatly...

...appearntly, VH1's advertising department found it okay for a Bails bond company to hype and glamourize their "product" via this "black" guy and his "urban-ness".

As this "black" guy touted the services of this bail bond company, I thought "how ineffective, how stupid and how sad." But the really cool thing that soothed my soul and made things better was the closing line ... "Se habla espanol".

Here's to companies that make money off stereo types and diversity!