A Week Packed

The last week has been filled with news, most good. So much stuff I’ll just randomly list.

This is my nephew, Lance Gledhill. Back in the day when he had just gotten out of dental school, didn’t have two nickels to rub together and was open to any way of making a dime, I talked him into making a house call. His operation was a success.


I long for the good old days (like back in 2012) when doctors made house calls.


The other day I got my second crown within a month. This is that same nephew Lance masquerading as a dentist at Gledhill Dental.

Just before his assault on my mouth, his assistant was messing around in my pie hole and said something like “We’ve got to be careful, sometimes people get a gag reflex with this.”

I waited a few seconds and then emitted a very admirable and realistic gag motion with sound effects. I was not aware before this very moment that I was so skilled in this field. I was also amazed at how prolonged a period I was able to stretch it out.

The poor assistant didn’t know me. She thought she was going to have a mess on her hands (and feet). She jumped back with a horrified look on her face. I should have snapped a picture but I was too busy laughing. It made the normally rough dental experience totally worthwhile.

Lance does a great job. I’m going to stick with him until I can get my brother Brent to buy into my dental auction idea. When that happens, I’ll probably put my dental work up for bid and see which of my relatives can bid the lowest.

Speaking of my brother and bidding, here’s a very recent happening. Yesterday, he was at work being a dentist and between patients was bidding on some equipment in Portland. He is also farming and needs a few pieces of iron to get started back up.

He bought a truck, a trailer and an excavator in Portland. Sight unseen. Last night he was starting to worry that they are all junk since he didn’t get to check them out before the buy. It reminded me of some of my purchasing history.

So today he is driving his car to Portland, a good 250 miles away. He’s going to load the excavator and his car on the trailer and then pull the load behind the truck. It’s going to rain all day and has the possibility of turning out like my Columbia Gorge story from my book. Did I mention that he’s very concerned the stuff is junk?

I wished him well. I didn’t offer to accompany him. Last night may be the last time I ever see him.

And speaking of missing brothers, another of my brothers is building a big house. A couple of days ago Brad was on the roof trying to cover it with a tarp. Slip came to slide and down Humpty Dumpty went. It was a great fall just like the nursery rhyme claims.

Just as he got to the 20 foot high eave, he wisely leaped toward a ladder. About halfway down, he hit the ladder and bent it which kind of broke his fall.

He then continued his way expeditiously to the ground. He got scraped up and dislocated and shattered his elbow. He had a guy there helping him who went into shock. Brad said if he hadn’t hit the ladder, he would probably have died. He said there was lots of pain involved. I can relate. He had surgery and they installed a plate and some screws.

He’s not getting any younger. I shattered my elbow 20 years ago (book) and have first-hand knowledge of the recovery period he’s got ahead of him.

Just before I visited Brad yesterday, I talked to my sister Lisa and her husband Todd. They were just coming home from the doctor and were ecstatic. He had just gotten word that his bones were clean and had no cancer.

A couple of weeks ago he found out that one kidney, lymph nodes, both lungs and brain are riddled with cancer. He immediately began radiation on the brain. They are devastated by the news, as we all are, but are determined to put up a good fight. They had been told if it was in the bones, there’s was no hope. Like I said, they were ecstatic.


This is Todd and Lisa after finding out the clean bone news and getting through half of the radiation treatments.

Speaking of brother-in-laws, you may remember my wife’s brother Scott in Alaska battling pancreatic cancer. I love the guy and wish there was something I could do for him besides prayer.

And speaking of brother-in-laws, I invented up a little dealie for my brother-in-law Tracy to use to sell real estate. He’s the guy in the middle. Truly one of the best men I’ve ever known. (He’s among many.) His side kicks aren’t so bad either.


So this little thingy I invented for their business gave them cause to send me a check for $1800. As soon as I get the patent filed, I’ll say more about it. I’m cautiously excited.

And speaking of patents, my son filed an application for me on another invention yesterday. Here it is:


For a hundred years, grain bin owners have fought the problem of water pooling up on the concrete base and leaking under the bin. This problem rots the grain and rusts the bin. My Bin Skirt solves the problem. There are a million grain bins in the U.S.A.

My realistic aim is to retrofit 98% of those bins with my skirt. I thought about calling it the Ben Skirt but my wife vetoed that idea.

I visited some bin owners the other day since I was finally getting the patent filed. They were very upbeat about it. I called a big wheel in the grain bin business last night and he too was positive. This might be the one.

Yesterday I packed in a visit to the Country Mercantile. They were quite cautious when they started selling my book last year but are all in now. They’ve gone through 120 books and have agreed to give it a little more presence in the store. Jay Wood, the owner, has been very helpful in this marketing experiment.


To be clear, the 50% off sign does not apply to my book.

Speaking of the book, I’ve sent applications and correspondence to Costco about the book with no response, even though they promised one. Several times I’ve visited the store and spoke to assistant managers who just kind of passed the buck.

Well, yesterday I must have said the right stuff as I was able to weasel my way in and talk to the store manager. Without my previous travails, it never would have happened.

He was a nice guy and had some wonderful suggestions. However, now I’m starting to second-guess myself, kind of like Brent is doing right now as he drives to Portland. Speaking of Brent, I just spoke with him. The trailer wheels will not turn. I asked why he didn’t call up our baby brother Bryan who lives in Portland to come help him. Brent said he was too embarrassed about the junk he had just bought.

Back to my second guessing. Do I want to make a big sale to Costco? Say they order 40,000 books. I’ll probably make a buck or two at the most on each book. Costco doesn’t pay for your item until they sell it. If they don’t sell books, I get them all back. I wonder where my wife is going to store $200,000 worth of books about an idiot?

And I wonder what the bank will say when the note comes due.

Maybe I should just be content marketing to the Country Mercantile stores. They place their orders in 40 increment lots. I guess there’s not much of a difference. Just three zero’s.

I then stopped in to see Kevin Hague, owner of Hearing Healthcare Associates on Grandridge in Kennewick. I went to high school with Kevin, we played in the stage band together and then I had the great opportunity to be his trainer in the mission field in Pennsylvania. We had a wonderful time together.

As I walked in his office, a large picture, I should say pictures, assaulted my eyes on the wall. Here it is:


It was beautiful and awesome.

There are 3 unique things about it. What are they?

I was so struck that I asked where I could buy one. Kevin’s receptionist’s mom took the picture. I put in my order.

Kevin put my book up for display and sale on his counter.

This next stuff is cool for me but probably won’t mean much to you so you can stop reading now.

Kevin and I talked for a bit. I mentioned the name of a new friend I recently met who’s last name is Biesel. I mentioned his name and Kevin said he knew him from when he lived in Yakima.

I told Kevin that whenever I see this guy and think of his name, I am reminded of a family named Bieley. In 1975, Kevin and I met this family and shared our gospel message with them.

We rode our bikes from Lebanon to Cleona several times a week, on the same road I crashed and banged up my knee on. I might mention that it’s a little embarrassing to be in a suit and tie, riding a bicycle and then taking a header on the same asphalt that numerous cars and trucks are traveling on. Bicycle helmets were a thing of the future at that time.

The father of the Bieley’s played the organ (for pay) in the local Methodist church. However, the Bieley family belonged to a different religion Yesterday as we were talking and I brought up this family, I knew what that religion was but had a brain freeze. Kevin said “Yeah, it was the Bahá’í faith. I was amazed that he still remembered them 43 years later.

Possibly the reason we both remember them is the three very good-looking and kind daughters they had.

Speaking of memories, I’m convinced I’m in late stage Alzheimer’s. I ordered a bunch of packing and shipping supplies from a supplier in Spokane a month and a half ago. I told them to drop them off at Commercial Tire since the location we needed the supplies for is located another eight or so miles out in the boondocks.

The total for this bundle of supplies that I had already paid for was well over a thousand bucks. I immediately forgot about the whole deal.

A week or so ago, I decided to drive around my property (the tire store) and check things out. When I got to the truck slab, I saw this:


“Hmmm, I wonder what that stuff is?” I wondered snoopily as I drove by the truck slab. I stopped and sauntered over to take a look. I saw my name on the packing slip and suddenly the flood of memories came back into sharp focus. I was supposed to pick this stuff up a moon or two ago. It was still there. A little rain had wrinkled the cardboard but no matter.

The stuff was still sitting where the delivery service had dumped it! Nobody had bothered it. I was shocked.

For 24 years I ran the tire store. I was constantly getting ripped off. If we didn’t have everything of value locked up or brought inside, it would be gone by the next morning. If I dropped a nickel as I walked out the door in the evening, by morning the symbolic buzzards would have flown far-away with my five cents in their symbolic beaks. And many times, even locking the stuff up did nothing but encourage them (the buzzards) to break into the store.

I was reminded of another experience I had with Jay Wood back in the day. His backhoe and his back side are featured in the experience I’m thinking of. One of the reasons he is selling my book is I promised him that my book will never do the damage to his store that his backhoe did to my store.




Bye-bye plate glass windows, glass door, computers, inventory, etc.


To finish, last night we went to a Contra dance where Michele played. If you look closely, you can see the love of my life in her John Fogarty-like plaid shirt, making music just like John. If you look even closer at the 20 second mark, you can see my nephew/dentist swinging away on the dance floor. My brother-in-law/realtor Tracy is in the center, far to the back. Their wives Brittany and Jill are trying to keep up.

As for me, I danced a bit, aggravating my bone-on-bone knee. Spent the rest of the night hobbling around waiting for this eternal event to end.


I hate to cut it short but you gotta go. Me? I got no place to go.

Before you leave, cut and paste this post link to your facebook page. Also, pray for Todd and Scott. Thanks!



This morning I got a call from a propane dealer in Tacoma. He and his wife wanted to take a drive to Eastern Washington and rub shoulders with people on this side of the mountains and who he knew could talk common sense. He must be part of the 1% of the West siders who hang their hat on the conservative hat rack. I hear they’re an endangered species.

They also wanted to buy a YankATank. I told him I could ship it to him for a hundred bucks but he said he would rather get away from the morass of liberal nonsense for a few hours. He said spending three or four hundred bucks in time and fuel was far preferred to the alternative.

He and his wife showed up this afternoon. We loaded the YankATank in the back of his pickup and shot the bull for a few minutes. He mentioned that he had put in a 30,000 gallon propane tank at their yard in Tacoma. By the time he finished with all the fees and garbage the city required, they had nailed him for a couple hundred thousand dollars in red tape.

Just one of the things they required:

There was a fire hydrant just across the street at their yard but the geniuses at city hall told him he had to have a hydrant on his side of the street. It cost him $55,000 to put it in. They did it because they can do it. I guess the list just kept getting added on to. Business friendly in most government cubicles is actually spelled Charge ’em through the nose.

I would guess the chance that they’ll ever use that fire hydrant for a propane fire is 1 in 535,000,000,000. About the same chance as winning the Power Ball Lottery. But some municipal official is pretty happy with himself.

So recently, this guy and his company opened another facility but stuck it in an outlying town so they didn’t have to deal with bloated bureaucracy. When they called the town inspector to see what it would take to put the same size tank in their new yard, the official said he’d have to check to see what the requirements were.

They didn’t hear back from him so a week later they crossed their fingers and called the inspector. His response was something like this…”Well, we’ve never had a situation like this before. I guess just come in and pay the $25 fee and that’s all you need to do.”

This small town inspector hadn’t caught the highly contagious Bureaucratic, Power Hungry and Egocentric Flu yet. I do know that once an newby gov’t official catches the vision and the No production allowed, All red tape encouraged bug, amen and bye-bye to the common sense and helpfulness of that particular pencil pusher and/or department.

Since we’re talking propane, let me share something else that just came up.

You’ll probably find a few mistakes in my following commentary as far as correct grammar but it’s really nothing compared to the usual lingo I often see on the silver screen. Ok, let’s road the get on the show.

These days the literacy level of the average person is dramatically lower than it used to be. Every day I see examples. You can blame faulty spell checkers. Blame artificial intelligence. Blame the new-fangled math program even if it has nothing to do with literacy. Blame the stinking phone in everybody’s pocket. Blame the drastically lower attention span of a large segment of the newer generations. Or, just blame Trump since he can take the heat.

The latest literacy (and math) boo-boo occurred when I got on the Lowe’s site to look for a propane torpedo heater. I just can’t take it anymore without letting somebody know of my angst. Me: vent. Heater: non-vented.

Here’s the heater. There’s nothing wrong with the picture or grammar on the heater labels.

Dyna-Glo Delux 150,000 Portable Forced Air Propane Heater

The question below the photo posed to Lowe’s customer service by a potential heater buyer is where I started grinding my teeth. Here’s the question:

“approx how long does a 20 lbs of propane lank last for in a 60,000,000 portable forced air propane”

Take a look at that link, specifically the reviews. The third reviewer gave the heater one star simply because he knows absolutely nothing about the purpose and performance of a torpedo heater. He’s an idiot (It takes one to know one). I gave the fourth review. I offered the third guy $50 for his heater that he claimed was worthless.  They printed my stars but not my comment/offer.

I guess Lowe’s doesn’t want people wheeling and dealing on their review page.

Back to the comment that bugged me. “approx how long does a 20 lbs of propane lank last for in a 60,000,000 portable forced air propane” At first glance, you probably see nothing wrong with the verbage. But I do. So unlike the ventless heater, I will vent.

First of all, approx should be capitalized since it’s the first word of the sentence. Second, approx isn’t a word. And if it really was intended to be abbreviated, why isn’t there a period after it?

Third, it should probably read: “a 20 lb. tank of propane” instead of a 20 lbs of propane lank… Fourth, what in the heck is a lank? I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and figure they mean tank. And lastly, where in the heck can you get a sixty million BTU an hour portable propane heater? I know Lowe’s doesn’t carry it.

From my propane days, I remember that a five-gallon propane tank legally holds about 4.7 gallons. That’s about 427,700 BTU’s packed in the little can. They are technically called 20 lb cylinders since that’s the weight of the propane you can get in it before you start flirting with a lawsuit.

If you hooked that 20 lb cylinder up to a 60 million BTU heater (such as this guy is looking for), you would burn through a five gallon tank of propane in about 20 seconds. I don’t think the liquid propane would even vaporize that fast and if it did, it would probably be classified as an uncontrolled explosion. 20 seconds is barely enough time to heat your barbecue up but is also likely to burn your house down IF you CAN get the heater fired up.

Of course, that could only happen if you had a big enough valve, regulator and piping system coming out of the tank. In fact, the valve would need to be about three times as big as the tank to handle the gas passing through. I don’t know if this guy cares about costs but I would guess a valve that size would run a couple of hundred thousand dollars.

Of course, this heater line of Lowe’s is for vapor-fired heaters which are little bitty when compared to liquid-fired heaters. But that’s a whole ‘nother story (btw, is ‘nother a word?).

I admit, the whole thing is preposterous. The customer was probably meaning to ask about a 60,000 BTU heater but was probably thinking about that kid from Florida that just won 400 and some million dollars in the lotto. That would explain all his extra zeros.

It would take 665 gallons of propane to fire up the heater this dude is looking for and run for an hour. That would take 142 five gallon tanks, I mean 20 lb cylinders. His garage would be toasty for the rest of the afternoon.

I’d like to find out who this fellow is and go to work for him. Maybe he would get carried away when he was writing my check and throw a few extra zero’s down. But then again, he would probably spell my name Bent.

I think I could set up his heater for him. Just don’t call the inspector because in reality, the only propane training I ever received was from the School of Hard Knox.

Where you lead, I will follow.

This is the song I sing to my wife every time she decides to take a trip.

Coming home from Phoenix after spending Christmas with some of our kids, she took an unscheduled detour when we got off the plane in Salt Lake. She headed to Anchorage as her brother is struggling with pancreatic cancer. I decided not to follow. I came home and batched it for a week before flying back to Salt Lake to help her babysit a grand kid whose parents and siblings turned up missing.

Turns out they went on a cruise and ditched the young’un.

I met Michele coming back from Anchorage at the Salt Lake airport. I thought we were going to be in Utah for a few days but then was informed that we were going to be there for a week and a half. This tore up my work schedule but I guess the boss didn’t mind.

She’s the one that makes the arrangements. I just follow along. You’ll see why in a minute.

Just before I got on the plane in Pasco, I realized I really am an idiot. As I got out of my vehicle, I realized I had left my luggage at home, sitting by the door, waiting for me to grab it. I had been so intent on taking the garbage out, per boss lady’s instructions, I completely spaced out the necessary bag.

I knew I would be ridiculed by my dear wife for the next week and a half. I was not disappointed.

We got to Saratoga Springs, the site of our babysitting job and before I could make myself comfortable, I was instructed to head for the shopping area across the valley to buy some necessaries. That job was completed in good time.

The only snafu we had was some dude who didn’t speak much English called me and to make a long story short, he succeeded in getting my phone service shut off. Not just mine but my wife’s and my son’s and his wife’s and our daughter’s and her husband’s and our other son’s and our other son’s.

For the first time in their life, they learned what it’s like to go a day without a working electronic screen in your pocket or purse.

It also resulted in 8 lines being screwed up, 8 SIM cards invalidated and 10 IPhone 10’s being sent to an address in New York, courtesy of some idiot giving out his PIN number who happened to be standing in the Target store in American Fork, Utah at the time. Also, another $700 in charges got tacked on to my bill besides the IPhones. Oh, don’t forget about my password and billing address becoming non-existent.

As I walked out of Target in American Fork after the multi-national transaction had taken place, I was unaware of the ensuing conversations I was going to have with AT&T and at least 7 of their representatives. All I worried about as I tried to leave the store was which directions I should follow.  I was so confused I must have spent an hour in this very spot trying to decide what to do.


As I began to try to sort through the phone mess along with figuring out how to exit Target, a heavily accented AT&Tguy asked me what the guy sounded like that had done the scam on me. He said “I don’t mean to be racial but did he sound like he was from India or the Orient or…..”

I broke in. “I can’t tell you. All I can say is that I could barely understand him. In fact, it sounded a lot like you! It was you, wasn’t it? Why did you do that to me?”

I thought it was funny. Him? Not so much.

I guess I should add that all the time I was talking to the scammer (before the AT&T guys), my wife was telling me to hang up. For once, she was right and I was wrong.

So we drove the 15 miles home from Target. At least now I had my essentials even if I had lost my relationship with the phone company and my wife.

Immediately after I walked in the door, I realized I didn’t even have that. I had left my bag of goodies I bought from Target at….Target. I had to turn around and make another trip around the block. I got back 45 minutes later.

I began wondering where the nearest Alzheimer’s clinic might be and if they would let me in even if I didn’t have a valid AT&T password.

In my defense, the scam was well thought out and would have fooled anybody (who was not playing with a full deck.)



This is Michael, playing with his new Fish game that he had insisted for months that we bring him. The game we were going to let him play was back in Washington, locked up in my suitcase. The game you’re looking at was just purchased at Target in American Fork. I worried that maybe Mike is OCD since he had to have everything lined up nice and neat as you can see.

Those worries soon left.




This was Michael’s punishment for making a mess. I used my phone to pound the plastic stake through since I couldn’t use it for anything else.

We went to church for two weeks while in Utah. The first week, they asked me to introduce myself. I said I was from Basin City, WA and mentioned my luggage snafu. I told them the jeans and striped shirt I was wearing would probably be the same outfit I’d have on for church the next week. It was.

I didn’t say anything about the underwear and socks.

It’s hard going to a new church looking like a duck. Try doing it two weeks in a row.

The second week we noticed a family sitting across from us. There are six people in their family. All six were zoned into the net age through the meeting. That was a first for me.

I disfigured their appearance to prevent any recognition. I wonder what Martin Luther or Brigham Young would think about this new method of worship?


One night we had Michele’s cousin Sally and her husband Gene over for dinner. Michele and Sally were close growing up. I met Gene through rock and roll years before I met Michele.


Gene is an awesome musician. Guitar, steel guitar, mandolin, vocals…he can do it all.

He showed me some songs he has written, played the instruments and sang lead and harmonies. Have a listen…


Hot off the press…


This Christmas was the best. The grand kids were gearing up for a Nativity reenactment. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my granddaughter coyly sporting news of a new addition. I wasn’t sure parents Christianne and Todd or grandma Michele had noticed yet so I didn’t say anything. I slyly pulled out my phone and snapped a picture.

Anyway, I am so excited to announce that I am soon going to become a great grandpa! I am on cloud nine. I would expect the newborn will weigh approximately 50% of what the mama does.


We spent our Christmas taxiing around between our four kids in Phoenix and their families. While we were there, we got word that Michele’s brother Scott is not doing well with that touch of pancreatic cancer I mentioned in a previous post. It was a downer. He’s in lots of pain and is down to 112 lbs.

One of the things he wanted while still in this existence was to be able to play music with his dad one more time. Michele made some arrangements and when we flew home, she didn’t fly home. She stayed in Salt Lake while I caught the connecting flight to Pasco.

When I went to the counter to get my ticket, the lady asked if there were two of us. I explained she was taking a different route.

The guy standing next to me said “I told them I wanted to send one of my bags to Kalmazoo Michigan and the other one to Bangor Maine and I wanted to go to Seattle. The lady told me they couldn’t do that. I asked them ‘Why not?’ You did it last month!”

The lady behind the counter didn’t laugh.

So the next day, Michele’s dad Karl showed up in Salt Lake after traveling up from St. George. He is 88 and blind. They caught a plane to Anchorage where Scott’s wife Angie picked them up and shuttled them to Wasilla.

You might remember that’s where Sarah Palin is from. Scott has several Fed Ex routes in that area. He’s delivered packages to Sarah.

I just got a text from Michele. She sent a clip of Scott and Karl. She said that was the first time Orange Blossom Special has made her cry. I’m sure things are very tender up there right now.

If you’re not a Recovering Idiot blog follower, I guarantee you WILL miss out on some of my posts. Sign up.

And while you’re at it, share on the Facebook button just below.

First I need to address my last post.

This morning I was still a little bugged so I called the real estate company that the girl (let’s call her Mary) who wrote the offensive Facebook post worked for. I left a message.

I got a call back an hour later from the owner of the high-end real estate company. I’ll call her Gina Lollobrigida. I’ve always liked that name. Gina was nice and became horrified at my information. She said Mary was a good person and would never do something like that. I gave Gina the benefit of the doubt and decided maybe someone had hacked into Mary’s Facebook account and made the post. But I still felt pretty sure Mary was the culprit.

We finished and I looked up Mary’s Facebook info. Mary is a lover of animals. There are pictures of her and all kinds of critters on her page. I then knew she had not been hacked. She was the originator of the post.

Gina said she would talk to Mary and get back to me. This afternoon I got a call back and we had a nice conversation. Mary is now checked into an alcohol treatment center. Gina likes her but will not put up with that type of behavior.

Ms. Lollobrigida said that her seeking medical help means something. If not for that, Mary would have been fired today. Gina is giving her another chance after Mary finishes treatment.

I wish the best for Mary. In fact, I called her cell and left a message of forgiveness from Kashann and the rest of us up here in Basin City. I also wished her the best of luck in conquering her demons.

Alcohol sauce is a nightmare. I’ve lost some good friends (some of whom are still living) along with a brother-in-law who was also a friend. Why play with fire? Leave the sauce alone.


Right after Christmas I got a call from Jorge, a guy I sometimes work with during corn harvest. Four or five years ago I was involved in a near-fatal accident. Two days later I was involved in another near-fatal accident. The second incident found me working feverishly with a father to save his son.

After all was done that we could possibly do, Jorge Jr. (George) was still trapped and dead. I gave up. It was all over. We both were crying, exhausted and resigned. Then inspiration hit and it all worked out. The story is in my Book so I won’t retell it here.

Anyway, Jorge called last week and invited me and my wife to his home for dinner. Michele’s brother is down with a touch of pancreatic cancer so she was headed to Alaska to be with him. I told Jorge I would be there by myself.

New Year’s Eve found me knocking at their door. We had a nice dinner. Jorge has a great family. We played a game I called Mexican Bingo. When I won, I stood up and shouted “Gringo Bingo!” It got a laugh.


We then played another game involving beans and snakes. By some strange fluke, even though I don’t think in Spanish, I won.

I figured I better go. I decided I better quit while I was ahead. Remember the Alamo?

I wanted to take a picture of Jorge’s wonderful family…George (Jorge Jr.)is the kid on the right.


Since I had a little bit of film left in my camera/telephone, I got another picture of the three people involved in the accident along with Lorena (Jorge’s wife and George’s mother)…




This was one of the more special nights of my life. As I left, they handed me a card…




This is one of those passports I’m going to take when I try to weasel my way into heaven. It means a lot to me. Several times during the evening, there were at least three or four eyes that teared up. Did I mention it was a very special evening?

Right after the accident, my wife and I ordered this plaque. We keep it on a file cabinet so we’ll always remember how blessed we are from the happenings of that day years ago.


If you’re not a Recovering Idiot blog follower, you WILL miss some of my posts. Sign up.