Boyd Coddington:Dead at 63

Boyd Coddington, world famous hot rod builder, star of "American Hot Rod" and legendary custom car builder died on Wednesday morning at the age of 63. I had not heard about that until today. I enjoyed watching that show, and was always amazed at his vision for a car project, and the attention to detail he had. he was a master at his craft, and trained some of the best car builders in the business. I suspect the show will not go one, since he was the creative force behind all of the designs. that is too bad, I enjoyed it, and I enjoyed the cars he created. Besides, the show would not be the same without him and his Hawaiian shirts that he was known for.

Image downloaded from boydcoddington.com

Exercise...will kill you.

Or at least make you feel like it will.

A few weeks ago, I got sick, and had to go to my physician, something I don't really like doing. And after some routine tests, and some blood work, he told me that I need to loose at least 20, but closer to 30 pounds. Which I already knew, but had been too lazy to do anything about. But some of what he told me concerned me, so I took to heart what he said, and am now making an effort. I have been back to the gym a few times in the last 2 1/2 weeks, and unlike most people, I actually enjoy the process of working out. I enjoy the exercise, and eventually like the results, and since there is ongoing gratification in loosing weight and there is incremental and noticeable progress, that helps to keep me on the wagon. But man, sometimes you feel like you were hit by a truck. Today is one of those days. But, I will faithfully go back today, and do it all again...with a different group of muscles. So that tomorrow, I will know I was hit by a truck.

When high expectations go wrong

The following is a news story that I heard this week while on my way to work. I had a hard time believing what I was hearing. I could not imagine a reality like this child lived in, nor could I imagine the reality that the parents lived in. They both need to spend a long time in a small cell. Just after they are tied up and their son has a chance to get back at his parents. This is what happens when high expectations go wrong. The kid was probably smarter than both of his parents.

Source: Atlanta Journal Constitution:

Link to Original Article

An Atlanta couple pleaded guilty Monday to beating their son after he didn't receive all A's on his report card.

The boy's father, Jean Pierre Marshall, 42, and stepmother, Courtney Marshall, 26, were convicted on one count of first degree cruelty to children and one count of misdemeanor battery, the Fulton County district attorney's office said. He was sentenced to one year in prison and 10 years probation; his wife received five years of probation.

Back in March 2007, the Marshalls' son, 13-year-old Jacob, asked his teacher, Sabrina Golphin, to revise his report card. She refused and Jacob threatened to kill himself, Golphin said during Monday's sentencing hearing. Jacob was shaking and "almost hysterical," she said. He told her he was afraid to go home because he didn't get all A's.

When the teacher wouldn't change his grades, Jacob altered his report card himself, and when his parents discovered the deception they beat him with a belt and their fists, the district attorney's office said. One of the father's punches caused Jacob to lose consciousness, authorities testified.

He fled the house after his beating, returning to Price Middle School — where he was a student — barefoot and in torn clothes. The Marshalls were arrested soon after.

"A parent has a right to discipline a child, in fact, he has an obligation to do so," said Superior Court Judge Michael D . Johnson. "But clearly this went well beyond that which is appropriate."

The child now lives with his biological mother in Wisconsin.

I had reasonably high expectations placed on me as a child, bad grades were not an option, but a B was acceptable, and I did not fear for my own safety when I brought home a report card, even when I failed to make a B, or even a C. I was also on the receiving end of a spanking or two, but my parents would never have thought to hit me with a closed fist, or anything other than an open hand on my hind end. It taught me respect, and it was a quick way to learn right from wrong. But beating a child unconscious is way beyond that, and no child should have to live in fear of being punched by their father. I can't believe that some adults think that is o.k. I just can't.

Snow...I hate snow.

So, I got up to take the dog out today, and to my disbelief, and chagrin, I saw snow flurries. I hate snow. it is too cold, too miserable, and only good for skiing, and since I am no where near a ski slope today, I don't want to see snow. The rain from yesterday in my rain gauge was frozen solid. yes, rain gauge, we are in a drought, i like to know how much rain we are not getting. Digression.

So the drive in had some strong snow flurries, and on some of the back roads, it was sticking to the road, and I could see tire tracks. I got to work and our elevated boardwalk to our front door had a nice thin layer of accumulated snow on it, enough to leave footprints. Joy. When I moved to Atlanta nearly 8 years ago, I thought I would never see snow again, and I was ok with that. I lived in Kansas for the first 10 years of my life, and saw way too much snow, and was glad when my parents moved us to Texas, if for no other reason, than no more snow. Even at 10, I did not like snow, it was too cold, and on more than one occasion, I had to shovel it.

Thankfully, the ambient temperature i supposed to climb up above freezing today, which would be nice. It will be a balmy 38. I can't wait for spring and summer to be here.

What is in a name?

So, what is in a name. I will tell you, an attempt to find something that some other nut has not already come up with. And that is harder than you think. The name I brewed up for this little slice of the intarweb, Wilful Disbelief...comes from a few sources. By definition, wilful means "said or done on purpose, deliberately" It can also mean "Obstinately bent on having one's own way" and well, anyone that knows me, must only think for a few seconds as to why that makes sense. And disbelief, a word we all know. The Wilful Disbelief in this case, was partially that I had a hard time believing that I would be any good at this, and that anyone would read it. pessimism, I know, get used to it, this place will be littered with it.

Who is to blame?

My good friend Aaron, that is who. This is his fault. I never thought I would start my own Blog, never thought I was the type to enjoy it, but I have been reading his for months now, and enjoy it, I even go and read the ones that his friends have...I don't know these people. Yet, I read their blogs, and become interested in their thoughts, and opinions. So, while it is Aaron's fault, I won't be too hard on him. After all, I have known him for going on 22 years now, he is one of the best friends someone could ask for.

How hard can it be I thought...HA

Everyone is doing it, I enjoy reading them, even when I don't know the person behind them...yep, talking about blogs. I figured, how hard can it be, you write stuff, get it off your chest, maybe someone reads it, and we all go on, it gives me an outlet, and gives someone else a break in their day. It can't be that hard.

Until you decide to name the damn thing. Good luck getting what you really want, what you really have to do is find something so off the wall, or so random, to ensure that someone else has not already used it. And even some of those...yeah, they are gone too. And most of them, not used at all, or not used in 5 or 6 years.

But, who wants to start off completely negative...it suits me, but I will try to get back on topic.

I decided to start my own blog, I could probably post to it every day, with the meaningless, often trivial things that pass through my head. I can share pictures from time to time, share ideas, and in general, give myself one more thing to do.

So here it goes. This marks the first post at Wilful Disbelief. Maybe someone other than myself will see it one day, and maybe get something out of it.