Let's visit Mammoth Cave, she said. Let's try to pack all the camping gear into the 5.3 cubic feet of trunk, she said.  So that's what she did. Yes, believe it or not, all items needed for a weekend camping trip - including food - fit into the tiny trunk that can barely contain a guitar case. That's tent, ground mat, camping chair, clothes bag, grocery bag full of food and snacks, and incidentals. Oh, and a hefty camera case for a DSLR. Those summers working in a shipping warehouse come in handy when you need to pack like you're playing Tetris.  It had to fit, you see. Because yours truly decided to plan a detour specifically to enjoy a scenic ride through Brown County, Indiana, with the convertible top down and in high gear around the corners. (Well, not the absolute highest gear. But the pickup ahead was percipient enough to pull to the right to let this driver pass.) It might not have happened that way, but it did. Despite unceasing rain for ...

God at Work: Your Christian Vocation in All of Life by Gene Edward Veith Jr. My rating: 5 of 5 stars "Luther said that faith serves God, but works serve our neighbor." That's an early sentence out of Gene Veith's short book, which resurrects Martin Luther's teachings on the workaday world for the 21st-century audience (who, like me, has probably never read a word that Luther actually wrote, besides the hymn "A Mighty Fortress" anyway). And with it, Veith launches into a clear outline of what Luther and others taught about the holy pursuit of... plumbing. Veith covers the vocations of work, citizenship, family and church membership, often using regular-Joe examples related to plumbing or farming or a host of other occupations. The writing isn't as exciting as, say, an adventure novel, but it's sufficiently on layman's turf that you don't have to have studied Biblical languages or church history to follow...

I received a lovely surprise today at work: A thank-you bouquet from a WWII veteran. This veteran is originally from the town where I work and at 90 years old must be one of a very small number of men left who had served in World War II. He had seen an article I wrote recently about the Roll of Honor, a local monument to the area's WWII veterans (both the living and those who've passed on). So he called me this week, hoping someone at the paper could send him a photo of the monument. He lives out of town and had never seen it since it was rebuilt in 2010, even though his name and those of several of his relatives are on it. I couldn't find him any from the paper but I snapped a few with my phone on my way to an assignment and emailed them to him. He replied with his thanks and I figured that was taken care of. Then about noon today, one of the front desk ladies brought these peach roses, saying they were delivered for me. For the life of me I couldn't guess wh...

As I re-watched one of my favorite episodes of the British TV show "Doctor Who," which features a story surrounding Agatha Christie, I was inspired. Wouldn't an episode featuring Jane Austen be the best thing since sliced bread? I shared this desire with a Whovian fan club I belong to on Facebook. Then I began imagining what interactions between the Doctor, his companion and various characters in Jane Austen's life might look like. As easy as these have proven to write, this is undoubtedly only the first of several installments of the sort. The vignettes below are not presented chronologically, by the way. "Ten," of course, denotes the Tenth Doctor, and Donna is his companion in the fourth season of the reboot. *** Jane's mom: "And is this your wife?" -both Doctor and companion deny it vigorously- Mom, as if offering consolation: "Oh, never mind, there are still many wonderful ladies you may meet." Doctor, as aside to com...

Disclaimer: I'm not qualified. To dispense advice on being an adult, you first have to have a decent amount of experience. Four years post-college doesn't reach that level. But one of my (ubiquitous) younger friends let her Facebook world know the other day, and I quote, "I can't believe....that in five days I'll be 20 years old. Oh my." First, let's applaud her use of Associated Press style in spelling out a single-digit number. Applause, please. You're missing your cue! Now that that's out of the way, let's reminisce a little. When I turned 20, I wasn't even with my family. It was the semester I studied abroad, in Costa Rica, and I managed to get through half the day without anyone making a big fuss over me and my little coming-of-age. Then the student coordinator found out. I'm pretty sure I was presented with a cake and some flowers, but I don't exactly remember. And I apparently neglected to take any photos. That al...

I've been warring with a pair of rusted-on rear license plate screws since Tuesday. This is Friday. I tried everything in my arsenal -- every screwdriver that was even close to the right size, WD-40, silicone spray, a screwdriver borrowed from a friend, even a screwdriver borrowed from the local AutoZone. The one from AutoZone was finally a tight fit in the slotted head, but resulted in halfway stripping one of the screws. It was to the point where I considered getting a friend to drill out the screws. (Or zapping them with my sonic screwdriver.) But I tried one last time. Another squirt of silicone spray, several taps on each screw and a couple hours' wait. And then, the last straw: A pair of combination pliers with teeth that might either wear down the edges of the screws or sink into them tight enough to provide some leverage. So into the cold garage I went, at about 8:45 p.m. No more daylight left, but I finally had the energy to give it a go. Setting the pliers ...

I had promised a friend of mine yesterday that I would give her a ride in my new car before leaving for work. I forgot when the time came to leave, so I made it up to her today after church. Parked next to a visiting college student's Camaro, the Miata looked to me almost like a toy car. She said it was gorgeous. Throughout the beginning of the ride, she felt along every surface she could reach - the textured plastic door handles, the smooth plastic dash and its round - almost bulbous - HVAC vents, the cloth seat, the vinyl soft top, the cold, metal framework holding the soft top up, the thin flap of fabric hiding that framework from view. She felt the comparative roominess of the passenger legroom, which surpassed the expectations she'd formed after seeing the red-and-black mass we approached in the parking lot and feeling how short it was - shorter than even her petite frame. She could lean her elbow up on the top of the car. My friend listened to the rumble of the engi...