de rerum natura: What's the H stand for?

Have you ever been in a Sunday School class where the teacher tried to start a discussion by asking you what you would most like to ask God when you get to heaven? I've thought about that many times, and of course, my real, non-snarky question would be, "Life, the Universe, and Everything?" However, my very snarky, and to me—don't ask why—profound question would be...

"What's the H stand for?"
By the way, if you follow that link, you'll find my friend Aubrey's new blog—about which I am very excited.

By way of confessional, and in order to clear out my ~~second~~ fifth chakra before I get sick again, I must post. Not that anyone cares, but I did intend to post something in the last few days. However, my html-coding skills were going to

this,

and most recently this.
At least this is a good class. The main problem with blogging, however, is that lately I have been convinced that everything and its opposite are true.

Therefore, let's work backwards, and maybe we can get to the heart of the issue.

As I drove home with groceries for the party, I played "Love And Peace Or Else" by U2, to calm my spirit.

The check-out lady at Kroger—who was the same one who had, in earlier weeks, refused to sell me a bottle of wine because la Juanita had not brought her purse with her—was quite taken aback by the amount of beer I was purchasing, and expressed her concern at the pending "beer bash" I would be hosting. When I explained that guests were invited to bring donations for disaster relief rather than party supplies, I don't think that she was impressed—especially because she expressed more concern at the total of the bill and hoped that someone else would help me pay for it.

I have not responded well to my friend and boss, and have been quite short with him lately. I have profusely apologized, however, I had been feeling overly micromanaged. Plus, I have been gossiping too much with co-workers.

A woman at the AFC knocked me down accidentally when I started swimming next to her. When we both stopped at the same time, I said, "Sorry." Then she gave me a short lecture on how I should have "advised" her of my presence. I was hoping for either, "That's okay", "I'm sorry too," or, "Thank you for apologizing," especially because it was open swim time and everyone has to share a lane.

I've been lifting weights, doing over a hundred stomach crunches, and swimming 1k almost every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I've been running either a 5k or slightly less with Dave and John (co-workers) every Tuesday and Thursday.

I've been hiking or trail-running with Janna on the weekends. (This weekend I start training for the Mens' Four-Miler with Dave.)

My blood sugar is hovering in the low hundreds.

I'm extremely far behind on grading.

I'm not going to teach Latin for them.

If you had asked me when I was younger if I ever thought I would be exercising more than three days a week on a regular basis, I would have told you that you were crazy.

Every time I get out of the pool, I give thanks to God for extending his mercy to me and enabling me to do things I never thought I could.

The drama that some of our students are stirring up is ridiculous, at the same time, I have some of the sweetest kids imaginable.

I had a great two days belaying kids from the climbing wall, not sleeping, and listening to J.R. Briggs talk about digging holes in the roof at Rockbridge Young Life Camp.
I know that I get a sick high from elevated stress levels, and I subconsciously seek out stressful situations. However, that high, like most, does not lead me to healthy choices physically, spiritually, relationally, or emotionally.

I discovered that Silvia is actually Silvio (if a membrum virile is sufficient evidence). More proof that in this cosmos you see what you want to see.

For an object lesson, let's look at the two most recent Presidents—Bill and Dubya. Bill was a hands-on kind of guy, micro-managing the heck out of guv'mint, kicking @$$ and taking names. However, as much as he criticized 41, Bill also lacked that "vision" thing, failing really to accomplish anything but full lunchpails and a widening gap between rich and poor. Yet Willy worked himself to the bone; he still hasn't laid off the Mickey D's, and he's got one heart-bypass operation to show for it.

His stress level took away from the balance in his life that might have allowed him to actually have a healthy marriage and body.

Now Dubya has made the 12-hour work month mandatory for himself (and the 80-hour week variety mandatory for those on minimum wage). He has taken time to play Halo II, choke on pretzels while watching football, and ride his bike into security guards while listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd on his Ipod. He is physically one of the healthiest presidents in living memory, however, his complete lack of intellectual curiosity and his indifferent anti-federalism has led to twin disasters in both the Middle and Southeast. Apparently, however, he stopped doing coke, drinking beer, and making love to people who are not Laura a long time ago, thanks to the power of his personal crutch and savior, Juh-EE-suhs. (Although, leaning on the everlasting arms is never discouraged on this blog, treating God like a fire-insurance provider sure is.)

So that brings me back to my original question, "What's the H stand for?"