Before I get to what I really want to talk about, I want to mention some highlights from tonight's award ceremonies in Hollywood, CA.  By far, the diamonds in the rough for me were first and foremost, Reese Witherspoon's genuine and thoughtful acceptance speech for her role as June Carter in Walk the Line.  I appreciated how she repeatedly pointed to June as her inspiration for the role and then quoted her (June) using her (Reese's) southern accent from the movie.  She said, " People used to ask June how she was doing, and she would say 'I'm just trying to matter,' and I know what she means.  I'm just trying to matter and live a good life and make work that means something to someone, and you all made me feel like I might have accomplished that tonight."  Secondly, Crash deservedly walked away with an award for a probing movie on racism (though even that label doesn't embody the fullness of its message).  Lastly, though many may disagree, I thought Jon Stewart did a fine job as host for the show.  He kept it moving, remained consistently witty, and didn't play the crude card over and over again.  To me the 78th Academy Awards was worth the watch (which isn't always the case).

Now to get on with it . . .

This Friday I will be flying to the desert where magic and wonder came alive for me as a child and as a young adult.  I remember many times of riding horseback at dusk in the foothills of the mountians of Tucson next to my grandpa Bunky.  We would ride side by side as he would recite cowboy poetry to me in his deep, raspy voice.  And as he would recant my favorite poems, like the story of good ol' "Piddling Rex," I would contentedly sit and listen to the sound of clodding hooves and the soothing words of man who smoked his fair share of cigarettes, and watch as the sun melted behind the Tucson mountians, leaving a trail of warm and brilliant colors. 
       
I think my longings for heaven began there in those foothills. 

To this day, whenever I look to those same mountians at sunset, my heart fills with joy but also feels a sweet sorrow reminding me of a better place with a Man more noble and gentle than my grandpa whose words not only can sooth my soul but bring life to my dry bones and sinful heart.   My Jesus . . . I love thee.

"Oh God, You are my God!  Earnestly I seek after You.  My soul thirts for you; my body longs for You in this dry and weary land where there is no water." Psalm 63

Awhile back I was tagged by Paula concerning five weird habits I have picked up over the last 19 (almost 20) years of my life.  I have plenty, so I have the luxury of deciding to post the ones that I am comfortable to share with you all. : )

1) My mom (my worst critic) always gets on me (along with many other habits that I have) for constantly scratching my body.  Whether its my head, arm, nose, ear, leg, foot, etc., I'm always scratching.  I'm not necessarily itchy all the time (which is sometimes the case), but I just feel the need to be touching something.  It feels weird even saying it, because I don't have a good explaination for it, but it's the truth; I do it all the time.
2) My other "manner mom," Paula, always hits me (literally hits me) when I slurp my drinks or chew my food really loud . . .  I'm going to be real honest: I don't know how to eat or drink without making noise.  I try but its just a quieted version of what it usually sounds like (smack, smack, smack, crunch, crunch, crunch, slurp, slurp, slurp).
3) Boy I sound gross after those two. . .  let me exit that section of gross habits I have (which are not limited to those two unfortunately) and enter an area less disgusting.  Anyway, thirdly, having been a gymnast, I will often take my silverware at the dinner table and use it to perform gymnastic moves (double layouts, triple fulls, full-twisting double backs, etc.).  People find that queer, but I love it.  Once I took my sisters Barbie, beheaded it, taped its legs together, taped its arms so that they were raised upward above its head, and used the "Gymnast It Doll" to perform the different events (bars, beam, floor, vault).  Sorry Carolyn!  Hopefully she made it to Barbie heaven where all the other tormented dolls live after having an encounter with "Big Brother."
4) For those of you who I have lived or stayed with for any significant period of time know that I can take an eternity to do my hair.  Not that I have a ton of hair to work with, but what I do have I like to look good.  Just one strand out of place and my whole "look" can be ruined.  Now for those of you who might see me on a day to day basis might be thinking, "Leroy, I don't even notice from one day to the next what your hair looks like."  That's not the issue; I can tell and that's what matters.
5) Again, I have to bring my mom and Paula into this one, because they get uncomfortable with me when I do this as well.  Most of you know this already, but I LOVE horses!!!! During my childhood years I wanted to grow up to be a horse.  Now some of you might have wanted to be a doctor, or nurse, or cowboy, or rock star, or movie star when you grew-up and maybe even some of you pretended to act like your favorite animal as a child.  But for me it was way different.  I ate grass, I gave people rides, I peed outside, I ran around on all fours all the time pretending either to be the Black Stallion or Black Beauty (two lengendary horses that I hope you are familiar with), and did everything else you could possibly think of to mimick my life after horses (those of you who know me well can testify to this).  Sadly enough to some, I still do this.  Once and awhile, the spirit of the horse will take me over, and I morph into a raging stallion in need of a good run! Neigh! : )

There they are ladies and gents . . . Five of my weirdest habits!  Some I'm more proud of than others . . .