I blame my bad behavior on vampires.

A Colorado woman claims she wrecked her SUV last weekend near Grand Junction because she was startled by a vampire in the middle of the road. Her unabashed honesty has prompted me to reveal that vampires and other assorted members of the undead community are responsible for my behavior too.

According to Colorado State Troopers, the woman saw the vampire, threw her SUV into reverse, and crashed into a canal. She escaped unbitten. Troopers do not suspect she was using drugs or alcohol, nor do I.

Vampires are real, and the ones at our house are plenty scary.

Take, for example, the vampire who has lurked for three months near the hedge trimmer in the dark corner of our garage. I haven't been within 10 feet of the trimmer until last Saturday when Vanessa assured me I could grab it without being attacked. She didn't use those exact words, but I knew what she meant.

There is a three-foot stack of dirty laundry in my closet that needs to be dry cleaned. A mess like that bothers me, but it bothers me less than getting a hickey from the blood-sucking immortal that hides in the shadows between my winter coats and bowling gear. To play it safe, the laundry stays put.

We have vampires in the cluttered office, jam-packed storage room, and overgrown weeds at the bottom of the hill. I sleep peacefully because I forget about them, at least until Vanessa mentions one of their hiding places.

The vampire in the closet under the stairs is a cool ghoul. He keeps Coors Light in a damp, chilled coffin and makes an appearance at sunset on Friday or Saturday nights. When I mention him to Vanessa, she shoots me a look scarier than the goblin who prowls the backyard near the broken gate in the fence.

Coincidentally, the third movie in the "Twilight" saga opened last night to sell-out crowds. I'll skip it. I won't waste my money to see fake vampires when I have the real deal at home.

A rare rendezvous in Old San Juan

The most famous cafe in the world is arguably Les Deux Magots on Boulevard Saint-Germain in Paris. According to local myth, a traveler who spends one day at Les Deux Magots is guaranteed to see a celebrity, long-lost relative, or hometown friend stroll past the cafe. I have not wasted an entire day at Les Deux Magots, but I have sipped wine at its outdoor tables on many vacations and I have never recognized a single face, famous or otherwise. As far as I'm concerned, myth busted.

In Puerto Rico, however, a tantamount myth became reality when I experienced the most unlikely encounter of my life so far.

In 1999, our family spent a summer day sightseeing in the historic district of San Juan. By late afternoon, we were hot and tired and ready to leave, but Vanessa and the kids wanted to buy souvenirs before we left downtown. They went shopping. I backtracked across the cobblestone streets to a tavern sign above an open door. It was time for refreshment.

The dark tavern, only about 10 feet wide and twice as deep, was split lengthwise by a wooden bar with five or six stools. It felt like a watering hole for locals, not tourists. The bartender's lone client, a nice-enough looking fellow, occupied the last stool at the far end of the bar. I chose a middle stool and ordered a beer.

"Woosley, what's up?" said Mr. Lone Client.

The next few milliseconds of my life were occupied with questions similar to these: Did that gentleman say my name? Is the bartender named Woosley? No way. Then my mind clicked and I recognized this friendly stranger.

"Hi Craig," I said. "Long time, no see."

I was looking at Craig Cannon, a long-time acquaintance from my newspaper days and the TV anchorman at the ABC affiliate in western Arkansas. Nice guy. Craig and his family were enjoying a Caribbean cruise and their ship was docked for several hours in San Juan. Craig had walked into this small tavern a few minutes before me to consume a cold beverage while his family, possibly standing elbow-to-elbow with mine, shopped for souvenirs.

So, what is the probability of bumping into a friend in a faraway hideaway or a back-alley beer joint in San Juan? For all practical purposes, it's zero. On the other hand, anything is possible. Heck, I might someday see Craig -- or you -- stroll past Les Deux Magots.

Advice to Congress: Caveat venditor

State Highway 10 in western Arkansas is home to a Vietnamese restaurant named Vietnamese Restaurant. Owner Jerry Phan can sleep well knowing he will never mislead diners hungry for Chinese, Japanese, or Thai. In 1975, silly people paid $3.95 for a Pet Rock sold by Gary Dahl, an advertising executive who got rich with fun, clever packaging that explained the simple truth about his product, the truth being this: It's a rock.

Mr. Phan and Mr. Dahl put into practice a concept Democrats continue to ignore, namely that Congress can't sell health care reform to the American people without truth in advertising.

A successful marketing campaign for health care reform must do at least three things, none of which Congress does well. The campaign must tell the truth; it must explain the benefits of health care reform using language understood by an eighth-grader; it must be broadcast far and wide, loud and clear, until Congress is confident it's been heard by the vast majority of Americans. A believable spokesman can't hurt, either.

Meanwhile, a secretive Congress is rewinding its moral odometer and fiddling under the hood to get legislation off the lot before Americans, who are already suspicious, realize they are stuck holding the keys to a clunker. And, Congress has the gall to expect repeat buyers in November. Let the seller beware.

Did God Destroy Port-Au-Prince?

Christian websites are buzzing with bloggers answering questions about the extent to which God caused last week's deadly earthquake in Haiti. The bloggers offer a wide variety of answers, almost all of which are based on Biblical interpretation, and many of which are contradictory. No definitive answer exists because, if one did, well-versed Christians would presumably recognize and embrace it without dispute.

Few religious bloggers dispute the geological explanation that Haiti was struck by a 7.0-magnitude earthquake caused by a violent shift between tectonic plates moving in opposite directions. Those same bloggers, however, augment the geological facts with theological speculation.

The theological explanations for the earthquake fall neatly into four broad categories. They are listed here without the supporting Biblical references because dozens of Bible verses (mostly from the Old Testament) are quoted to support the same broad explanation. The list:

• God controls the universe in real time. He created the tectonic fault and caused the earthquake. Mankind, being flawed, cannot understand why God did these things.
• Ditto, except that God caused the earthquake to punish Haiti for its sins, one of which may be the practice of voodoo. (That answer is refuted with this one: It was unnecessary for God to punish Haiti because Christ died for everyone's sins. This rebuttal is a show-stopper on the blogs regarding the punishment theory.)
• God has the power to cause or prevent anything, but He did neither in this case.
• God is a loving God. He plays little or no role in human suffering. The earthquake was a natural geological event.

As might be expected, any discussion about God's role in major disasters and human suffering will draw comments from crackpots, bullies, atheists, and others. Bloggers tend to ignore the crackpots and bullies; polite atheists are tolerated (quite well, in fact) because they are a common adversary for Christian bloggers who might otherwise disagree. Also, atheists stir the pot and pot-stirring is good for most blogs because it prompts debate.

One theological mindset is noticeably absent on most religious blogs: God works in mysterious ways. Thus, it's okay for man to be utterly clueless -- or even wrong -- about God's intentions for some Earthly events.

The earthquake in Haiti might be such an event.