Saturday, May 31, 2008


For the Shack review - scroll down to next blog

We are doing well. It has taken me a long, long time to get adjusted to this new life.

Getting out 3 or 4 times a week. Going out for dinner tonight. Routines are working and my spirits have been very good. Wonderful to see summer come. Our book club meets next week. Going to Vancouver next week to Regent college where the author of The Shack is having a discussion with the Regent faculty. I am taking tomatoes. I will report the outcome.

Thanks Ira for the long letter and to Dan for the several emails.

Our two new grandkids are a continual joy. They were here all day Friday doing yard work.

Will share our discussion at Book club after we meet Friday.

Don and Barbara


AB said...

Thank you for your interest in the shoes! What a deal I have for you!
I'll send you a money order for $50.01 and you can keep $25.01. Then I'll drop the shoes off and you can give me the other $25 in cash and I'll give you the shoes. I may give you a call and it may send like I'm calling from Africa but I'm really not, so don't worry...oh yeah, I may not be able to call you tomorrow because my wife is going to be in labor (I just have this FEELING) and then on Sunday my father is going to have health issues (again, another feeling) so I won't be able to contact you for at least 2 days. Thanks for the email :)


Mike said...

Don, glad to hear that you will be going up to Regent.

Thoughts about the Shack, got me to thinking about a recent email I read by Dave Barry and his experience with a colonoscopy.. I am including it for your funny really is a hoot, hope you have not seen it yet. Hope to see you this week.
*Dave Barry's Colonoscopy Journal

... I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis.

Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor.

Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose watery bowel movement may result.'

This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground. MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep.

The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' has to be the least appropriate. 'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade.

If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like. I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking 'Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine ...'.. and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood.

Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humorist

Anonymous said...

I just wonder if the reason why you are so opposed to the message of this book is that there is a part of your heart that really wished to experience that level of intimacy with the Lord. People that are secure in their belief systems tend to disagree and then move on. Why are you so disturbed by this? What does your heart say about this encounter? Just so you know, you should probably steer clear of anything written by John Elredge or Brennan Manning, since their ministries are geared towards a heart encounter with the Lord. Wouldn't want your panties in a wad over more than one book at a time!

:: Suzanne :: said...

Hey Mr. Rude Anonymous,

You access the web from Ft. Worth Texas United States via and your IP address is (

If you have to be anonymous to say something, perhaps you should refrain from saying it. I don't recall snide remarks as being one of the Fruits of the Spirit.