Haven't you always wanted to own your very own restaurant bearing your very own name? Now's your chance.
All you have to do is e-mail a minimum of ten friends, introduce them to my books, invite them to join my e-mail list, or ask them to buy an autographed copy of Recovering Charles, or tell them what you think of my hair, whatever trips your trigger...
Then come back here and post a comment below that says "Mission Accomplished!" along with your name. (We're going on the honor system here, people!)
I'll pick a winner at random on May 1st from among everyone who participates, and that person (wild animals, vegetables, minerals and Kim are ineligible) will name a steakhouse that appears in my new novel, A Christmas Jars Reunion, coming this fall.
Got it?
1. Tell ten friends.
2. Come back to the blog and tell me "Mission Accomplished".
3. Wait for good news on May 1st.
4. You could own a fictional steakhouse. Tasty!
Monday, April 20, 2009
Weekend with the Wrights Wrap-up
Kim and Pete's Excellent Adventure has come to a close. Did we kill each other? Did we get along? Did we become BFF's?
We'll let the video do the talking:
We'll let the video do the talking:
Friday, April 17, 2009
Wright Words: Pass the Grace, Please
Recently I was asked to write a column from time-to-time. After much hemming and hawing I finally agreed. Columns will appear here and on several other websites around the web. Below is my first. Hope you enjoy!
###
Wright Words: Pass the Grace, Please
Sunday morning. 9:17 AM. I'm 30 miles from home and racing to a chapel I'm unfamiliar with for a ward conference. A work zone approaches and out of the corner of my tired eye, I see a town police officer sitting behind some bushes holding what I hope is a sophisticated high-tech water gun.
It wasn't.
Did I receive a traffic ticket? Yes. Was it of the speeding variety? Yes. Did Officer Fife care that I was dressed in a suit and obviously racing to the aid of my beloved brothers and sisters in need? Not so much.
But that didn't stop me from asking for grace.
A few weeks later I put the same suit back on and appeared in an historic courthouse just a country mile from the scene of my crime. After watching half-a-dozen other hardened traffic criminals make their pleas for leniency, I was convinced my excuses were…well…better.
In fact, my entire strategy was can't-miss. I took my place at the defendant's table when summoned and prepped to make my case for grace.
“How do you plead?” The Judge asked.
“Your Honor, can I plead ‘guilty' to speeding, but ‘not guilty' to the severity of the speeding?”
His mouth said, “Excuse me?” But his face said, “Whatchoo talkin' ‘bout Willis?”
I explained how I'd been late for church in an area I'm unfamiliar with. I told him how careful I'd been that morning on the way to court, driving the exact speed limit through the same trap to gauge average MPH, and how I'd been blown off the road by a school bus and a man I judged too old to even hold a license. I even made a premeditated, well-rehearsed joke that five others in the courtroom thought was rather funny. Unfortunately for me, none of them were wearing black robes and grandpa glasses.
My appearance that day ended without the grace I so desperately sought, but with a pit stop at the court clerk's office to pay a hefty fine.
As I drove home that day—very slowly—I pondered my life's near-constant quest for grace. It seems I'm always asking others to grant it, but am I so quick to pass it on myself?
Perhaps you've sometimes fallen into the same trap.
Ever been late on a credit card payment and gotten the dreaded phone call? Without fail we seem to respond with the same universal line: “Grace, please?”
We're late returning a movie, a library book or a rental car: “Grace, please?”
Who hasn't missed a turn, an exit, or rolled through a stop sign and impeded the path of another car, only to fire off an apologetic wave of the hand and a sheepish grin. The grin itself is pleasant and quiet, but if it could it would scream through the car window, “Hey buddy! A little grace, eh? I'm in a hurry/lost/from-out-of-town/my-wife-is-pregnant/fill-in-the-blank.”
Or maybe like me you've missed a deadline for a project at work, a homework assignment or a new manuscript: What's the refrain? “Grace, please?”
It's part of life. It's who we are. It's how the plan of happiness was designed. It is that word, “grace”, that allows us to embrace repentance, change our minds and choices, and taste life's sweet second chances.
Why then when my children make a mistake, despite the fact that I made the same missteps at their age, am I often too slow to extend grace? Especially since heaven and the neighbors know I'm asking for it myself when the sun on trash day rises and sets with the cans still sitting at the side of the house—full.
Mrs. Wright has heard it before: "I'm sorry dear, it won't happen again. A little grace, please?" Fortunately for me, my wife isn't nearly as slow to pass the grace as I am.
Yes, we all want grace. Leniency. A fresh shot. An opportunity to forgive and forget, right? Except in my case it's more like, “You do the forgiving, I'll do the forgetting, thank you very much.”
How about you?
I wish I could promise that my expensive trip to ward conference—the talks were lovely, by the way—had changed my understanding of grace forever and I'm a better man for it. Nah. But I do think I'm trying just little harder to pass the grace more quickly and more often. Maybe we all could.
Because we can't expect everyone to pass it to us if we're not willing to pass it back, can we?
###
Wright Words: Pass the Grace, Please
Sunday morning. 9:17 AM. I'm 30 miles from home and racing to a chapel I'm unfamiliar with for a ward conference. A work zone approaches and out of the corner of my tired eye, I see a town police officer sitting behind some bushes holding what I hope is a sophisticated high-tech water gun.
It wasn't.
Did I receive a traffic ticket? Yes. Was it of the speeding variety? Yes. Did Officer Fife care that I was dressed in a suit and obviously racing to the aid of my beloved brothers and sisters in need? Not so much.
But that didn't stop me from asking for grace.
A few weeks later I put the same suit back on and appeared in an historic courthouse just a country mile from the scene of my crime. After watching half-a-dozen other hardened traffic criminals make their pleas for leniency, I was convinced my excuses were…well…better.
In fact, my entire strategy was can't-miss. I took my place at the defendant's table when summoned and prepped to make my case for grace.
“How do you plead?” The Judge asked.
“Your Honor, can I plead ‘guilty' to speeding, but ‘not guilty' to the severity of the speeding?”
His mouth said, “Excuse me?” But his face said, “Whatchoo talkin' ‘bout Willis?”
I explained how I'd been late for church in an area I'm unfamiliar with. I told him how careful I'd been that morning on the way to court, driving the exact speed limit through the same trap to gauge average MPH, and how I'd been blown off the road by a school bus and a man I judged too old to even hold a license. I even made a premeditated, well-rehearsed joke that five others in the courtroom thought was rather funny. Unfortunately for me, none of them were wearing black robes and grandpa glasses.
My appearance that day ended without the grace I so desperately sought, but with a pit stop at the court clerk's office to pay a hefty fine.
As I drove home that day—very slowly—I pondered my life's near-constant quest for grace. It seems I'm always asking others to grant it, but am I so quick to pass it on myself?
Perhaps you've sometimes fallen into the same trap.
Ever been late on a credit card payment and gotten the dreaded phone call? Without fail we seem to respond with the same universal line: “Grace, please?”
We're late returning a movie, a library book or a rental car: “Grace, please?”
Who hasn't missed a turn, an exit, or rolled through a stop sign and impeded the path of another car, only to fire off an apologetic wave of the hand and a sheepish grin. The grin itself is pleasant and quiet, but if it could it would scream through the car window, “Hey buddy! A little grace, eh? I'm in a hurry/lost/from-out-of-town/my-wife-is-pregnant/fill-in-the-blank.”
Or maybe like me you've missed a deadline for a project at work, a homework assignment or a new manuscript: What's the refrain? “Grace, please?”
It's part of life. It's who we are. It's how the plan of happiness was designed. It is that word, “grace”, that allows us to embrace repentance, change our minds and choices, and taste life's sweet second chances.
Why then when my children make a mistake, despite the fact that I made the same missteps at their age, am I often too slow to extend grace? Especially since heaven and the neighbors know I'm asking for it myself when the sun on trash day rises and sets with the cans still sitting at the side of the house—full.
Mrs. Wright has heard it before: "I'm sorry dear, it won't happen again. A little grace, please?" Fortunately for me, my wife isn't nearly as slow to pass the grace as I am.
Yes, we all want grace. Leniency. A fresh shot. An opportunity to forgive and forget, right? Except in my case it's more like, “You do the forgiving, I'll do the forgetting, thank you very much.”
How about you?
I wish I could promise that my expensive trip to ward conference—the talks were lovely, by the way—had changed my understanding of grace forever and I'm a better man for it. Nah. But I do think I'm trying just little harder to pass the grace more quickly and more often. Maybe we all could.
Because we can't expect everyone to pass it to us if we're not willing to pass it back, can we?
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Contest winner weekend approaches
Remember when we gave away a trip to VA to spend a wacky weekend with my family?
This weekend we're finally going to welcome the winning couple to Woodstock. Last night I sent Kim an email tying up a few loose ends and asking if they had any special requests, allergies, etc. This was her reply. It seemed worth posting :)
This weekend we're finally going to welcome the winning couple to Woodstock. Last night I sent Kim an email tying up a few loose ends and asking if they had any special requests, allergies, etc. This was her reply. It seemed worth posting :)
Jason,
That sounds fantastic. We will be bringing two large steamer type trunks, two garment bags and two full size suitcases, plus assorted carry ons. We can always strap the luggage to the roof of your mini cooper. My husband after all is a fireman and he is good with knots! We are also taking our rat terrier dog Tobi with us. She has a bladder contol problem and needs her meds. We couldn't leave her at home. Does the B&B allow pets with diapers? Also you asked about allergies and stuff...I can't be inside for more than an hour at a time because I a break out in hives. Pete has a clinical body odor problem that he is very sensitive about. He gets nervous about it but we usually carry lots of baby powder and sprays with us. My husband and I are strict Vegans and do not eat anything produced by an animal but I am sure that won't be a problem. We eat a lot of grasses, wildflowers and things you probably have growing around the house. We prefer to be nude most of the time as we are Naturalists but we understand that not everyone likes this so we will keep most of our clothes on. We must be bare foot all of the time though. We have to feel the Earth between our toes. That's okay with you, right? We probably won't be attending church with you as we only worship Mother Earth. As far as the truck goes...you can keep it, we'd prefer the mini cooper. It is easier for me to drive. Pete did not think it would be a good idea for him to drive your truck as he has a warrant out for his arrest in Fairfax County,Virginia. Trust us it's no big deal.... Please don't make a fuss over us. We don't require much. We are very simple people.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
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