Christmas thoughts

I had this lambasting post 95% done when I clicked over and read Missy's post over @ Daily Portion.

So I'm just gonna shutup and point you that direction:

http://daily-portion.blogspot.com/2009/11/modest-proposal.html

I Remember Why . . .

I like to run outdoors.

I enjoy the sounds of feet on pavement, on dirt, in puddles, over woodland paths and tree trunks. I enjoy the sounds and feelings of cars whooshing by with the wind either in my face or at my back.

I don't even mind exhaust fumes.

So much.

I grew up running on suburban streets and the campus of my alma mater long before it became the place I would cram 4 years into 5 for "higher education".

I like hills.

Real hills.

Not some mechanically induced, computer-generated fake hill that's supposed to make me thing I'm gradually ascending farther (further - which is it?) above sea level in hopes of finding some wonderful realm which I've either never seen before or have seen before and revel in the hopes of seeing it differently this time.

Sheesh!

Now, I remember why I run out-of doors!!!!





I do not like treadmills.

At all.

Any more than I like tracks.

Running without going someplace just seems to detract from the whole reason to me. If I see the same scenery the entire time, I get bored.

Which makes running a drudgery.

I hate drudgery.

Passionately.

I live enough in the shadow of helotry at my daily routine that I don't need any more of it in the rest of life.

Certainly not in something as freeing as running has been for me over the last 30+ years.

I really can't remember when I started running for enjoyment.

I mean, not just as a kid who ran to get someplace fast or because a friend or twenty wanted to race.

I mean running because it is a wonderful way to see the world around me in a way very different than that which I'm accustomed to seeing the world.

Running because I appreciated the feeling of my lungs working to take in enough air to keep my body functioning well enough to maintain my pace while I was enjoying the sights and sounds of the world around me.

Running because it took me someplace, even if that place was a complete circuit and I ended up where I started.

We don't see much when we travel down roadways at 35mph or faster. It's much easier to see the birds and the trash left by others and the grass that needs cutting and the roadkill or to smell the fresh flowers and the winter onions or the burning leaves when you're goading yourself along to get away from that mean dog or to discover what's up around that bend you've never rounded or when you know the water-stop is coming up at that fountain ahead.

Life is much more fascinating at 6-10mph and you don't have windows or doors or seats barring you from interacting with the world around you.

It's just you and your own two feet, running.

All that said, I got on a treadmill last night.

For the first time in eons.

The kids wanted to swim.

I wanted to run.

It's been a while, but the new pair of shoes and the no-longer-painful left knee just needed a good whirlwind tour of the cardio room at the local "Y".

I also did something else I've never done.

I used an MP3 player.

While running.

On a treadmill.

Made me remember even more why I don't like treadmills.

Or MP3 players.

I felt like the treadmill would be a decent compromise that might allow me to find a pace, be close enough to know the kids could come find me if they really needed anything, and I would have an evaluation of just where to start on my running game over the next few weeks.

Music does strange things to my pace.

Staring through a doorway into an empty foyer of some minor annex at a rural YMCA does very poor things to my pace.

I felt like if I could've just closed my eyes and ran, things would've been much better.

Really hard to do.

Without stumbling.

Or completely falling down.

No, I didn't do anything of the sort.

My eyes remained open the entire time.

Which was longer than I thought it should take me to run 2.5 miles, because I was barely even winded and my heart rate never made it to my 80% goal.

Fall fishing trip

This past weekend found me lost in the Great Smoky Mtns National Park.

On purpose.

I've had a love for backpacking and flyfishing for over 30 years and I would very much like to just disappear into the Smokies for a very long time. Since backcountry permits are only valid for 30 days, I will have to be content with that, but not for a while. This weekend was a trip to a place called Hazel Creek.

Hazel Creek is accessed two ways - a very long hike (from Clingman's Dome or Fontana Dam) or by boat on Fontana Lake.

We chose the boat access.

It was raining when we put in at the marina and continued to rain until somewhere between 2 & 4 a.m. Saturday morning.

Just a quick note here: THERE ARE NO SHELTERS ALONG THE HAZEL CREEK TRAIL, REGARDLESS OF WHAT ANYONE ELSE (including NPS personnel) tells you, so bring a tent or a tarp or be prepared to sleep on the porch of, or inside, the Calhoun House - one of the very few extant buildings along the trail, which the NPS maintains in and around Proctor, the old farming/lumber town along the creek.

There are ruins of the old sawmill further up the trail and several primitive campsites. The fishing is decent and the scenery is awesome. The old roadbed makes for fairly easy hiking, even in waders in October.

Here's a few pics from the weekend . . .



The trail/roadbed





Erosion



I stepped in one of these Sunday and sunk up to my knee in water, if that gives you any indication of the power of water.

General ideas of the scenery
















Fishing buddy




We did this all day Saturday & Sunday. I got home at 11 o'clock Sunday night.

Can't wait to go back.

Non-laboring Labor Day 2009

We went to the mtns on Labor Day.

I normally LABOR on Labor Day - usually around the house getting a plethora of projects either started, only to remain in various states of incompletion for months on end; or complete a few that have been hanging over my head.

Not this year.

This year we played.

First, we went to Table Rock State Park, where I have spent lots of time in the distant past, but not so much in the last 16+ years. Matter of fact, Melinda commented that she & I had never been there together.

Well, we have now.












With the kids.










We hiked the Carrick's Creek Trail, which is really quite astounding for Melinda with her current back issues.






















We had ourselves a picnic lunch and then headed up through the mtns to Brevard, which holds one of the most fun little toy stores in the Southeast . . .








Two stories of sheer childhood bliss.









Etch-a-sketch fun:
























Paddle balls:























Toys from a bygone TV era:
















Army men:















Marbles:























And then there's the slot-car track:































































Of course, I appreciate the real plaster & lath as well as the hardwood floors in the old downtown shops:
































































There are just some fun details on the streets, like giant toy wooden soldiers and the gumball machine:































I even found a pristine tool set just like one my brother had as a kid - one that my kids never saw anything but bits & pieces of and they managed to lose or destroy the remainder of what was passed along. I couldn't believe the price tag on the thing!!!!!!







































We were just about tuckered out, as evidenced by my most energetic boy's exhausted stance:
























But, we still had one more errand to run.

APPLES!


















Hendersonville was a wee bit crowded, due to the Apple Festival, but we skirted that and headed to our favorite apple stand for the season's final haul of Honey Crisp's. Good thing, too, because the sky was ready to loose a storm of epic proportions on us, but we just managed to get turned onto I-26 before it caught up to us:

A Long Time Ago

Today was her last shift.

I remember meeting her there years ago and enjoying getting to know a new friend - one that would, unbeknown to both of us, last a lifetime.

We both learned to give of ourselves and to see the world's deep needs in the faces of the people who strayed in and out of the doors. Some present only for a few hours. Some there long before, and after, both of us. Some who would never again step out of the place.

We worked side-by-side and commiserated and argued and laughed and loved each other and the world around us.

She stuck around long after I couldn't. She put in sixteen years.

And she cried for the last month there.

Mostly the last two weeks.

A lot today.

She should cry. She invested so much of herself there and will never know the difference she made in the lives of the thousands of people with whom she came in contact. She poked, prodded, held, fended-off, swabbed, cleaned, consoled, laughed, joked, cried, and loved so very many of them. Countless times she wanted to bring one, or more, home with her at the end of the day.

I'm still surprised she never did.

My wife is no longer an ER nurse.

In practice.

Particularly, she is no longer a Pediatric ER nurse - because that has been her specialty since the doors to that department opened in 1994.

She will be forever in her soul, because she was born for that. For a season.

And she is extremely good at it.

She is the last of the original RNs to leave. She hung in there longer than all but one physician. Her co-workers even today long for her to stay. The comments are sincere and disbelieving that she is actually going.

If only.

But those aren't words we believe in.

We believe this chapter is written and a new one already has been - she simply has to read the words with her life.

It's a new chapter for both of us, but mostly for her.

A new venture.

A new practice.

A wonderful opportunity with her best friend and a physician who respected her work enough to seek her for the position.

She blames me, but I did nothing.

But pray.

For years.

The health risks of the ER are hard enough, but hers has been compounded by nerve damage in her lower back.

She can't pick up children who aren't breathing and run the 50 feet to the critical beds without doing significant damage to herself.

And there are no guarantees she could even pick up the child.

Or run.

We're all damaged in our own ways.

Hers is her back.

And her hopes.

But beyond what she will miss, she knows and hopes and loves the future opportunity.

It's different.

But that's life.

So, I prayed for many years that another opportunity would avail itself that would allow her to remove herself from the inherent risks while allowing her to enjoy her work and keep her skills.

Or develop new ones.

So Tuesday will begin a new venture.

One that I hope lasts a long time.

I thoroughly enjoy 65* nights. Unfortunately, they seldom happen in July around here. Last night was one of them.

And I wasted it.

My thoughts segued into wishing fuel was cheaper and there were fewer projects to complete at the house. That way I would spend a couple of hours driving all over the countryside with the windows down enjoying the wind snaking up my shirt-sleeve and through my hair. I'd find some farmer's field, walk out to the middle and just sit down and watch the sunset.

Then, I would head home and sit on the back deck with my sweetie and talk over the sound of the cicadas and tree frogs until the Summer Southern moonrise was just over the treetops. We'd throw open all the windows in the house and turn the attic fan on low and enjoy the coolness of the evening without running the electric bill through the roof.

Instead I just went to (s)Lowe's and got some stuff to finish a couple of projects this weekend. Came home and bothered with the lawn mower some more and got all sweaty and pissed off, didn't get anything really accomplished, and then stayed up way too late unwinding.

I should've just gone fishing.

I just realized

My 15 yr old cursed, out loud, in my presence, on Friday.

It took me over 4 days to comprehend that.

He was quoting his boss, but he said "5h!t" in front of me, his Mom, his Aunt & Uncle and maybe even a grandparent (kinda doubtful on that one, but it was at their house).

It didn't even phase me. Other than to wonder if the "little ears" were around to hear his very loud self telling the story. He was recounting a story in response to one about his young cousin who used "damnit" relating something to her mother.

His Mom was more worried that he was being loud enough for a grandparent to hear, but I just laughed at his story. It was funny.

It was even better the 2nd time he said it!

Damnit! Now I gotta have a chat with him about using those words when he's not on a construction site.

Feed & Seed

I love old Feed-n-Seed stores.

They are the epitome of times gone by to me.

I used to go to them all the time with my father, grandfather, and great-grandfather.

I've taken my kids to them.

I got out of the habit of seeking them out for a few years, until I stumbled into one while looking for some way to emergently repair a frost-proof faucet (not many of those around in suburbia where I grew up). That was when it hit me.

Memories flooded back and time nearly stood still.

The leaky faucet would be OK for another 45 minutes or so while I sat down and learned the answer to my problem (and how to fix the faucet).

I love the smells of fertilizer, chicken feed, potting soil, and countless bins of old stuff jumbled together. Mix those with hardwood floors and screen doors with jingly little bells welcoming you into a place that isn't in a rush to get anywhere; where the proprietor can help you figure out a solution to just about any problem at the house, in the field, with an animal, or in the barn; a place where the nexus is a couple of rocking chairs loosely surrounding a wood or oil-burning stove smack-dab in the middle of the place, and it's just about as nice a place to be as any other that crosses my mind.

Sure, some of the newer places have concrete floors, at least in parts. And that's fine, but concrete is a sight harder to stand and walk on all day than 60 yr old hardwood floors covered in a fine layer of peanut shells, dust, and tobacco stains. Concrete just doesn't give off the same smell, or echo with the noise of generations of farmers and country-folks hangin' around jawin' about the leaky roof or that blamed tractor or tellin' stories about bird dogs and horses. Those wide-plank floors have stories carved into them that most folks'll never hear. It's too bad too, cause more folks could stand to hear some of those old stories.

The places with all those lovely traits seem always seem to have folks present who realize that there is a value in appreciating people and a slower style of life - one where hard work is very much appreciated but hard play and quiet moments are equally enjoyable.

I seek them out.

In my hometown.

In my travels.

In my dreams.

I long to walk back into the little store in Pelham where we'd get an Pepsi and salted peanuts.

I really miss Tab's in Laurens where an RC Cola and a Moon Pie were the treat of the day after a long jaunt through miles of fields.

Even the bird dog was welcome in there.

And they had a hitchin' post out front for your horse if you decided to get there by non-mechanical means.

I discovered one in Jefferson, GA a couple of weeks ago that was absolutely fantastic. Streamside place with two levels and a hangar-style roof. It was wonderfully aromatic - like my great-grandfather's barn. I asked where the straw was stored and he told me downstairs and showed me the freight elevator, the floor half-covered in stalks of gold.

I just came in to stretch my legs and visually pore over the rows of plumbing pieces, tractor parts, and storm windows while really just treasuring the fact that there were three fellas just hangin' around wondering what the heck I was there for, but satisfied by my answer of to "Can we help you?"

I told them I was just stopping in for a few minutes of joy.

End of the Homeschool year trip

That Tuesday was a very long day.

But, it was so worth it.

I left the house around 0630 (semi-typical) to head to the office for about a half-day. When I blew the doors off the place leaving @ 1300 hrs I knew I was so going to pay for it on Wednesday.

The boys love baseball. I'll repeat that for you. The boys LOVE baseball!

Almost as much as their mother does.

Our daughter - she could care less. She got to stay with grandparents & hang out with cousins.

We took them to Turner Field for the first game of the Braves vs. Cubs series in Atlanta this week. It was their first major league game.

We avoided the typical traffic jam associated with Atlanta until we got the I-75 downtown. It took us about 30 minutes to travel the last 6 miles or so to the park. Not bad considering I've sat in traffic for 3+ hrs waiting to get past Spaghetti Junction.

We parked (Green Lot - Chevron family value pack - pretty decent deal) and walked into see batting practice and find out just how high our nosebleed seats really were (section 402, R15) - way the heck up there, but not bad seats for poor, cheap SC folks, only one of whom is a Braves fan (certainly not me or the boys). Then it was time to wander and see the sights that bring thousands of people to their financial knees on a regular basis. I can't imagine the time, money, and energy it would take to attend all the home games.

Beer = $6 (and there were lots of folks walking around with 6-10 empty cups!); Hot dog = $4.50; Coke = $4.50; ad infinitum.

Pro Batter; Pro Batter Jr.; Braves Museum; Golden Moon Casino (entire level of box seats where the Miller High Life guys would have way too much work to do); and a host of other places to spend lots of time and money.

It was a pretty good game, from pretty good seats. We figured after the end of the 8th inning it would be wise to head down to left field and watch the 9th from the railings so we could get to the gates before the mad dash to the parking lot and crazy Atlanta traffic. The Braves had other ideas, much to my youngest son's chagrin.

He's a Cubs fan.

The game went to 12 innings and we stayed for the entire thing.

0500 Tuesday until 0138 Wednesday makes for a very long day.

0600 Wednesday makes for a very sleepy day as well.

I took a nap when I got home that afternoon.

BTW, the Cubs lost in the bottom of the 12th.

My wife is thinking about taking the youngest boy back to Atlanta this week for another Braves vs. Cubs game.

I'm staying home.

And sleeping.

You know you spend too much time at the computer when . . .

Your google reader bloglist looks like this . . .

A Spattering of blogs - some serious, some farcical, some inane, some just plain cool . . .

Cheating Death - ER related - 'cause I was an adrenalin junky for 5 years working in the local trauma center as a crisis/trauma/bereavement counselor.

ER Nursey

LPN with an M16

Tales from the ER and Beyond -

The LawDog Files

The Mad Parson - mad, as in insane, but timely and thought-provoking

today's lessons - the first blog I ever found, discovered through a David Wilcox connection - imagine that! It hit a chord because of the family-oriented, homeschool, just-plain-life-on-display nature of it.

Cattails: Adventures of a Very Bad Cat - sometimes, but not on Thursdays. Working in an ER, for 5 years, I had enough TMI every day that ends in "y"

Daily Portion - love the "world class dabbler" designation - I can so relate! I also keep up with her flickr page daily

Dekor Beton - my friends in Istanbul with whom I worked for nearly 3 years in the decorative concrete business - Istanbul is a great city and the folks who run the business are just wonderful people.

EarthChick - OK, so it's her knitting blog, and I certainly don't knit, and she doesn't post that often, so I usually just catch up via her flickr page

DeathChic - cause I have a sense of the macabre - I blame in on the ER

Christ is Deeper Still - cause it's well worth reading

Edwin Leap - ER MD who writes for the local paper

Euangelion - another worth reading

internetmonk.com I browse this one mostly.

The Paragon School of Shooting - Sporting Clays tips

Pioneer Woman - discovered through a photo blog (listed below) and discovered cool photos and some homeschool stuff

Teleios Ministry - some friends of mine from work have traveled to Tanzania to work with an orphanage over there.

The Kapics - college friend who now has triplets!!!! I absolutely can't imagine.





THE Flyfishing STUFF:

Fishing with Marcus

Bent Rod Media

Jubal Mountain

Catch Magazine - working for the actual online mag is my current dream job! Catch Magazine

R&R Fly Fishing

Felt Soul Media - discovered him through moldychum.com somehow - not that I keep up with moldychum anymore

52 Trout

Modern Hillbilly - Married to Very Bad Cat

Perspicacious Words



PHOTOGRAPHY!!! - the really big category

Amy Martin Photography - SE regional photographer

Cheyenne Schultz - Charlotte, NC-based photographer

Mayfield Photography - SE regional photographer

Ruth Rackley Photography - Clinton, SC-based photographer

Professional Photographers of South Carolina - one day I'll actual be a member and make the meetings.

The Beautiful Mess - Charlotte, NC-based photographer

Lightroomers - I read alot about Adobe Lightroom because I use it at the office and at home

Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Killer Tips - what a mouthful for a blog

Ask the Photographer

Chase Jarvis - this guy absolutely rocks - from photography to videography to just plain cool & creative.

Confessions of a Photographer - Bert Stephani - one of the founding members of LIME (link later)

Digital ProTalk - Cincinnati, OH-based photographer

Erin Browne Photography

Inside Lightroom

Go Boda - because I want one of these systems

FlashFlavor - Matt Adcock & his wife Sol Tamargo shoot some fantastic destination & Trash the Dress stuff - amazing work!!!!

Maring Photography

Lighting Mods

Lightroom News - yes, another Lightroom blog

Paul Souders Photography

Creative Pro

Photography Tips & Lessons

Photoshop Insider - Scott Kelby - the progenitor of the Worldwide Photowalk - happening this year on July 18th - when I hope to be on a butterfly count in Aiken, SC

PocketWizard's - because I really want these, even though I currently use two different remote systems

Ed Pingol - San Francisco-based photographer who does just amazing work. I have no desire to be a wedding photographer, but his use of off-camera flash is fantastic!

Squeeze the LIME - European group of photographers who put out some really fun, instructive posts for photographers.

Vincent LaForet - if you have time (or can even remotely consider MAKING time), check out his videos on SmugMug - the guy creates the coolest stuff. Of course, he has all the good toys, er tools. Yeah. Tools. That's what I meant to type.

Photowalk Pro

Strobist - the guy responsible for about 98% of the above photographic blog findings on my part and a true instructor when it comes to lighting.

If I've missed yours, send me the link and I'll add it, too.

Why not, I only have 19 posts left to catch up on from today.

So, what're you reading?

Children reading

I thoroughly enjoy seeing all three of my kids bringing their day to a close by picking up a book and reading. As I type, I'm the only one in the house not currently engrossed in some tome that broadens the mind and captivates the imagination.

We started reading to the kids long before they were aware of it. I'm not certain any of them were read to in utero but certainly not long after they were sleeping soundly in their cribs.

I need to find my book very soon as well.

Weeding

I love 67* evenings with a gently blowing breeze keeping the bloodsuckers at bay and damp ground from Spring rains.

It makes weeding easier.

And we have a lot of weeding needing accomplished. Five acres with several 40+ yr old flower beds in great need of revitalization; a blueberry patch in desperate need of more mulch; a field eaten up with dandelions - OH THE DANDELIONS! I've spent two entire days and several 5 gallon sprayers full of nasty herbicide spot spraying only to have them come back again with a vengeance (I swear they are being planted by my neighbor's and their children)!

The very welcome rains halted progress on my daughter's butterfly garden (Stage 1). It's 24' x 7' at the fenceline between the front yard and the (apparently, very) future blueberry orchard. So this evening we were hard at work with the cultivators, shovels, mattock, and bare hands. I love the feel of dirt seeping into my pores and getting lodged under my fingernails. I always find some small particle still clinging to the underside of them the next day while I'm on hold at the office.

The boys were busy trenching a border and cutting the back yard. I still don't understand my youngest son's aversion to cutting the grass - I mean, he even has a self-propelled "push" mower. Of course, this was his year to use the lawn tractor until he & his older brother revived the family tradition of killing anything with a "small" engine. Two motors in two years, so I'm making them sweat a little while I bide my time finding a lawn tractor or three that I don't care if they destroy or ride into the pond on a dare.

I got a phone call from a friend searching for some electronic equipment that may or may not be stashed away somewhere in the dungeon we call a basement at the church. So, I started weeding the front yard. It's not as though I could swing a mattock and talk on the phone at the same time, so I just started pulling weeds. Grassy weeds, sedges, broadleafs (dandelions are my archnemesis with this yard - see rant above), and anything else that isn't St. Augustine or Bermuda grass.

And I discovered something.

It takes no thought whatsoever.

My hands just know the difference between turfgrass and weeds. I can weed the yard with my eyes closed. Or my brain concentrating on where the heck we stashed the speakers, mixing board, mics and wiring for the PA system that hasn't been used for about 10 yrs at church.

I can weed the yard even when it's dark and my mind has wandered and wondered over all sorts of other subjects and the kids are getting ready for bed, and the dogs are out of the pond (chocolate lab is the prime troublemaker - youngest son's dog and my wife's archnemesis!).

I can weed the yard while I contemplate when and how to repair the roof(s) on the workshop, the garage, and the stable; while I ponder if I have any Maker's Mark still in my fishing flask (no, damnit!); while I wonder if my wife is still watching baseball or if she'll come looking for me and declare me as crazy as the day she married me; and any other number of things that scamper through my thoughts.

I think I should spend more time just sitting in the front yard yanking handfuls of problematic little things out of my life more often.

I think I will.

So, if you happen to be riding out through the South Carolina countryside some Springtime evening and see a little bucolic scene with some foolish looking fella ripping things out of his yard by the handful, with his eyes wide closed and a great big grin on his face, you'll know it's me.

Springtime Fridays

I think at least half the world takes Friday afternoons off work, especially in the Springtime, and especially around my neck of the woods.

The fields are full of purple, blue, yellow, white flowers surround by green everywhere.



The fish are biting.



The birds are singing.

The phones aren't ringing. At least here at the office. And every first business day of the month, we're kicked out of our computer system to close the books on the previous one.

The new shop isn't ready for me to go take pics.

I have no permanent place to setup all this new photographic gear, which is driving me crazy sitting in my office floor.

It's like putting an alcoholic in a liquor store with $6K in his pocket and saying, "You can look, but you can't touch."

I usually go run a few errands on Wednesday afternoons - Lowe's to pick up odds-n-ends for the shop; the sign store to pick up any orders we have ready; this place or that. Just something to break up the week, but it needs to be done.

We don't have any meetings scheduled for this Friday, so . . .


I think I'll take the afternoon off and "run errands".

Today's the day!!!!

Guess what has arrived!!!!

I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count.

And you can't cheat and look at the picture below.

Now, watch it rain all weekend and I will have to sit in the house and drool, um, I mean, clean the thing all weekend.

At least the wife is out of town. She hates the smell of solvents and light machine oil in the house. She thinks they should be relegated to the garage or the workshop. I, personally, think light machine oil would make a great black tie affair cologne.

I could market that, and a few others to a select crowd of men and make enough to pay off the house and go fishing for a few days.

Or buy a few more rounds for break-in.


But then again, I like the smell of diesel fuel.

Hopefully, I'll post some pics of my own before the weekend is out.

Just when I think

There are times that I think David Wilcox sort of falls off the deep end, theologically. From my perspective, at least.

My beliefs seem to have moved me in different directions from what I hear in most of his songs, but then along comes something like this . . .

LINK

and I am gladly amazed

The passing of an Icon

I don't know if it's the downturn in the economy; the influx of chains; family concerns; or some other deleterious catalyst but it seems that one of the major culinary icons of Greenville's vast array of Greasy Spoon's has shuttered their doors.

The Rainbow Drive-In has been closed every time I've passed by there for the last six weeks.

The sign has verbiage to the effect of "Thank you for 50 years of memories."

I would actually swear back in to eating chili-cheeseburgers just one more time if I could get one more from there.

And I'd wash it down with a milkshake.

Highway To Hell (1979)
SINGLE: Highway To Hell/If You Want Blood (1979)
(Young, Young, Scott)

"Living easy, living free
Season ticket on a one-way ride
Asking nothing, leave me be
Taking everything in my stride
Don't need reason, don't need rhyme
Ain't nothing I would rather do
Going down, party time
My friends are gonna be there too

I'm on the highway to hell

No stop signs, speed limit
Nobody's gonna slow me down
Like a wheel, gonna spin it
Nobody's gonna mess me round
Hey Satan, payed my dues
Playing in a rocking band
Hey Momma, look at me
I'm on my way to the promised land

I'm on the highway to hell
(Don't stop me)

And I'm going down, all the way down
I'm on the highway to hell"

Apparently that was the opening song on Easter Sunday at a local congregation in my hometown.

I'm not certain what "church" is coming to when one can justify opening a "worship" service with a song that is pure hedonism.

I guess following that up with "I Stand Amazed in the Presence" somehow makes it OK, but I don't get it.

I used to pay lots of money to go to things almost as entertaining as this. I never really got it, though. I mean, why call it "worship" when you're charging people to watch & listen to you sing. But then, how can you call it "worship" in a "church" setting when you're rockin' to AC/DC?

I should've known the "Easter" verse would be John 3:16

I read a little on the "Senior Pastor's" blog and found statements that pertained to criticism being "worth it", the devil taking a shot to the 'nads, etc.

I could've guessed that any reference to preaching the Gospel would be farther down his list than the number of people who responded to the "invitation" and certainly much farther down the list than the number in attendance.

And then there's the vision . . . growing, impacting lives and using technology and the arts to strategically communicate the good news of Jesus Christ. STRATEGICALLY? Really, here. This sounds like demographics neatly re-packaged.

I would post the link to the online video, but it's 98 minutes, and well, it's not worth the time.

Fifty days

For those of you who thought this directly related to the period between the Resurrection and Pentecost it shall prove somewhat of a disappointment.

I have one, single, solitary, definable, personal, obtainable goal for 2009 (note how I wait until April to stick up goals and it's not a resolution).

1). Fish for some portion of fifty (50) days in 2009.

I'm severely behind.

Today makes five(5).

I'm 10% there.

I don't have to fish the entire day (although those are definitely bonus!), just wet a line.

It makes it easier that there's a pond in the front yard, of course, and three of the five days consisted solely of walking across the driveway with my fly rod and relaxing.

I hope to attain this goal, Lord willing.

Up in the Air

I have a newly revived obsession.

Sporting Clays.

I can't figure out if I want to spend $$$$ on a new Beretta, Browing, Benelli, or Remington.

Not that I need to spend any amount of $ right now, but when lust hits, it often hits hard.

My dear old Browning BPS pump just won't cut it when it comes to the Sporting Clays field anymore (at least that's what I tell myself).

So, will it be a 391 Technys,













a Benelli SuperSport












a Browning Gold










or a Remington 105CTi II






I really just can't make up my mind.

Which is a very good thing since I can neither find the time nor the money to go shoot too much right now.

I knew better

Really, I did.

I know, I made my first vehicle road-worthy at the youthful age of fifteen.

I built my second vehicle into a sub-12 second 1/4 mile drag racer before I hit twenty.

So, WHY? you may ask did I know better?

Because I have barely touched a wrench or a socket in the last five years.

Yep, I'm out of practice.

OK, so I've replaced the turbo on my truck. And done a few other piddly things to it.

I've installed a few things here & there, but the sway bar really should've been easy tonight.

It wasn't.

Not even close.

Damnit!

Looks like someone shipped me the wrong part.

Of course, you would think I might check that before tearing into the box like a 3-yr old @ Christmas.

Nope.

Not me.

Never.

Figures.

I wonder

I get to start doing some studio work for the office. Product photography for a new & upcoming business thingamagummy I'm not supposed to talk about.

I didnt' get the new MacBook Pro with the auxiliary 28" Apple monitor. The guy setting this whole thing up did.

That's OK, cause I would be lost in Mac-world for a good couple of months.

We are talking about new gear, however. Someone said something about "enough in the budget for a 5d Mark II and a couple of lenses". That, I can get into.

I'm gonna try to talk them into one of the new Pixma Pro9500 Mark II as well. Pictured below, from Canon's website.

Someone please explain

Why is that Protestants give stuff up for Lent?

I really don't get it.

And I'm curious.

As long as 90 days

The hysteria is great, so it seems, in the South.

Ammunition sales are astounding. Firearms that normally sell reasonably priced are going for much, much more than most of us have ever seen (well, maybe just before the Brady ban went into effect).

Gun stores and ranges are doing a very brisk business. Brisk business is wonderful to see in this economy, especially selling products that have been around in our economy since before the founding of the actual nation itself.

People tell me I should be worried.

I'm not.

I don't need my guns.

Yet.

I may never. I hope I don't. I would rather simply enjoy the things I do have and not need nearly as many of them as I, even now, think I do.

It's not as though I believe Big Brother is going to come take them. No, they'll be much more slick than Willy ever imagined. Taxes, insurance, restrictions, etc. If they want them badly enough, they'll make my life miserable trying to keep them.

I hope I finish my sojourn here before that day.

For now, I have them if I ever do need them.

And that one over which I recently shared my lust here

It's on order. Special order. Ambi-safety; beveled mag-well; and 24 lb recoil spring (and a few other goodies) will round out the graces of an already fine tool. It could take 90 days, but I think that's just good capitalistic customer service. Sell you on the product, but tell you that you can't have it just yet.

We see it all the time with movies and video game systems.

BTW, new object(s) of lust - here (yes, the fancy-schmancy mean-looking carbon fiber one) and here.

I've shot the latter, but have yet to try my hand with the former.

I require a field test to really decide (and a lot of extra $$$).

Hoping for that field test April 11th at Rocky Knoll Sporting Clays. We shall see.

Worth repeating

Some things are worth repeating . . .

"How completely satisfying to turn from our limitations to a God who has none. Eternal years lie in His heart. For Him time does not pass, it remains; and those who are in Christ share with Him all the riches of limitless time and endless years. God never hurries. There are no deadlines against which He must work. Only to know this is to quiet our spirits and relax our nerves. For those out of Christ, time is a devouring beast; before the sons of the new creation time crouches and purrs and licks their hands. The foe of the old human race becomes the friend of the new, and the stars in their courses fight for the man God delights to honor. This we may learn from the divine infinitude."

A.W. Tozier - The Knowledge of the Holy Chapter 8, "God's Infinitude"

path to nowhere

Much thanks to www.edwinleap.com for bringing this to the (at least some) public attention.

There's this one quote that really gets to me . . . "The goal, Daschle’s book (link mine) explained, is to slow the development and use of new medications and technologies because they are driving up costs. He praises Europeans for being more willing to accept 'hopeless diagnoses' and 'forgo experimental treatments' . . ." Hopeless diagnoses - now that's an interesting little snippet. I hate that term. The diagnosis has no bearing on one's hope unless the only hope is to find a physical cure. And if we forgo experimental treatments then the new bugs and nasty things that kill us in unseen ways will just get worse. In another 10, 20, 30 years the mortality rate for anything will approach medieval times.

I don't want the folks taking care of my parents, children, wife, family, friends, etc. to " give up autonomy and 'learn to operate less like solo practitioners'” because some new beaurocracy (the National Coordinator of Health Information Technology - created to "monitor treatments to make sure your doctor is doing what the federal government deems appropriate and cost effective. The goal is to reduce costs and 'guide' your doctor’s decisions (pp 442, 446 of the bill).) decided it wasn't cost-effective. I'll pay the freakin' bill if I have to work three jobs and sell the dog if that's what it takes to get my loved one quality care.

I hate politics, but even worse, I hate the fact that our government feels the need to stick their noses into everything under the sun. If it's not the constitution, it's basic human compassion.

Consider this little smidgen from the article, "In 2006, a U.K. health board decreed that elderly patients with macular degeneration had to wait until they went blind in one eye before they could get a costly new drug to save the other eye. It took almost three years of public protests before the board reversed its decision. "

Anybody else see the slippery slope of euthanasia popping up it's ugly head here?

I'm not one to protest in public. I'm not likely to walk around some gubbermint office with a picket sign shouting curses at people not intimately involved with matters at hand, but if it was one of my family members . . . somebody would be getting a phone call and maybe a personal visit explaining the finer details of compassion.

I am not in favor of socialized medicine. I am not in favor of the tack that everyone gets what they can afford.

I am much more in favor of our entire country developing an ethic that values human life and works to make people's lives worth living.

Of course, I still think the gubbermint can only fail, and miserably, at developing that ethic. I have never thought it was up to them in the first place.

Because it's not.

Death, dying, and killing me

Sunday morning was the day I dreaded for about a month now.

It started Christmas Eve with the first sign.

It was simply a matter of how long could he be kept alive. We're talking heroic efforts here. Late nights, lots of cursing at the powers-that-be, a few beers while tending to needs. The stuff that you really don't want to do, but know you should.

We get attached don't we? I mean all the time we spend, the investment of ourselves to something we know is fleeting and could be gone at a moments notice. It's always inevitable. We know it will happen eventually. All things come to an end. Some quietly, some with wailing.

But this time, it would be a long, drawn-out affair with gnashing of teeth and a family in upheaval for at least at least a month, maybe longer.

Saturday night was the night to pull the plug. I hated to do it, but it was simply time. If there was any further hope of resuscitation, we would know soon. It could be just a coma or some deep level of unconsciousness, but Sunday would tell.

Have you missed out on the finer moments of despair?

You know the ones.

Flatline.

Asystole.

Injuries not compatible with life.

We use other cynical aphorisms that belie our jaded outlook on life.

DRT is one of the things I used to hear in the ER. DEAD RIGHT THERE. A very cold callous way of viewing something that means so much to so many.

CTD (Circling the Drain) was another one. And I had been witnessing the maelstrom for a month already.

The first tell-tale sign happened while I was editing some photos on Christmas eve.

I got the first Blue Screen (or should that be Scream?) Of Death (BSOD).


One of the central figures in our family, the nexus of our living room, the computer DIED.

The OS drive was the least of my concerns. I've re-formatted and loaded Winblows enough to know that the Operating System should be on it's own drive by itself. The other three, however, were of paramount importance.

I had removed and de-activated a lot of software. Cleaned the registry as much as possible. Tweaked the memory and a few other things. But priority was backups and selectively purchasing upgrades such as new and more RAM, faster Processor, and up-to-date motherboard.

I turned the whole thing off Saturday night when I couldn't process the 320-ish shots from the day and decided I would just see what it did the next morning.

Well, CHKDSK found more corrupted files than otherwise, based on the amount of scrolling on the screen.

My afternoon was spent tearing it down, discovering one of my 320GB SATA drives was really a 320GB IDE - off to the big box store to get a twin for the SATA drive. While I was there I got a new CPU cooler and a Thermaltake Hot-swappable SATA drive bay (really cool for backups). Since I have two SATA drives with 10K+ pics and other files on them, I decided I would keep them as backups and store them in the safe, bringing them out one at a time for backups.

And staying up until 0130hrs Monday morning trying to get it to work (unsuccessfully, btw). Actually I got XP loaded onto the IDE drive and updated, but it's not what I wanted. WHAT A PITA!!!!!

That means getting two more SATA drives for the mirrored array I want to build for internal picture access (can you have [i]too[/i] many backups?).

And finding a 1.44 floppy disk (I actually have an old drive) to load the RAID drivers for Winblows.

The 320GB IDE drive will eventually house Winblows 7 64-bit beta as a dual-boot system so I can play with that and see how it works. I refuse to use Vista for anything related to workflow.

So now I have a functioning PC with none of my pics on it. I haven't found the Outlook file containing all my e-mail from the past umpteen years, but I know it is hiding on that old 80GB drive somewhere. I haven't put any software other than Office back on it, and that only because the kids have reports due Friday.

There's a stack of drives with files waiting to be transferred. I've downloaded all the latest drivers and updates for everything to go in there. I'm burning a CD so I have them all in two places.

I should have everything up & running by the end of the night tomorrow. Lord willing. Cause I have a date night with my wonderful wife Thursday, and I'm leaving town Friday afternoon for a Sporting Clays tournament.

I just want to know one thing.

When did I start grieving technology?

You know you live in the Bible Belt when . . .

We picked up pizza on the way home Saturday evening. It had been a long afternoon at a Raku pottery firing for my daughter's ongoing pottery class. We provided some horsehair and the photographic documentation for the afternoon.

When we got home and the pizza was doled out to the ravenous wolves, er, I mean kids, the boys started laughing at something. I had no idea what it was, but being ever curious made them share.


This was the sticker on the pizza box.





It's nice to know my kids appreciate the humor in life.

It's official!

I'm an absolute techno-geek.

I have 2.1206 TB of storage space on 8 hard drives for my home PC (OK, so two of them are brand new and aren't yet installed, but neither is the new motherboard or RAM or Processor).

That doesn't count the laptop . . . or the HD's in the attic that I'll never use again . . . or the portable 80GB HD at the office.

Of course, I count the office server as partial backup since every picture I take for work gets stored there (RAID 5) and on my office PC HD and my 80GB backup. So, in theory that gives me something to the effect of . . .

HOLY SMOKE!!!!

Over 4 TB of storage space.

I'm tired

There are a few folks out there who will likely disagree with what I write here. There will be those who simply think it's sad that my brain and heart work this way. There will be those who take offense to it. There will be those who throw out virtual atta-boys or send me private notes saying "Thank you" or "F--- you" or any other number of things.

You know what? So be it.

I have no idea what the new American President said today.

You know why?

Perhaps it's because I sat at the desk all day doing something I hated while many of my acquaintances had the leisure to watch the festivities in D.C.

Wrong.

Perhaps it's because he's a Democrat?

Wrong.

Maybe it's because today's news is tomorrow's history and in a few hundred years nobody will notice (who was the only Protestant American President who lived a life that was mostly devoted to the work of God when he wasn't in office, anyways? - few people know that one off the top of their heads) or remember who Barack Obama even was, never mind that he was an American President.

Wrong. Well, maybe only partly on that one :)

Perhaps it's because of any other number of inane things that everyone else thinks is important or newsworthy.

Again, wrong.

It comes down to this.

I don't care.

Really, I don't. I have absolutely no intention of reading today's speech or any others for a long time to come (I mostly read about dead people and I don't think he'll be dead for a long while). Geez! I'm just getting around to reading about Andrew Jackson, so I have a very long way to go to learn about modern American politics, right?

I'm tired of hearing about politics.

YEP. On the most historic day (to date) in American politics in the 21st century, you say?

ABSO-FREAKIN'-LUTELY!

You know why?

Cause I could care less.

I mean really, I'm about as apolitical as it gets. I know, I made some mistakes along the way and volunteered in college for a particular politician. God's long-since forgiven me for that one, I'm certain. I even voted once (back in 1988, cause the experience was new - and I really wanted to digress here, but I restrained myself), but I wrote in names like Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse. No, I'm not kidding.

I've never cast a vote that matters in American politics. I don't intend to start anytime soon (soon being measured in decades, not nano-seconds).

You see, I've never met anyone who could convince me Biblically, theologically, rationally, and/or otherwise that doing so was a requisite to being what I consider the most important thing I am on this earth.

Christian.

Just because I live in "the land of the free" doesn't mean I HAVE to vote. It simply means I can if I so choose. It's kind of like eating at fast food restaurants. I have every facility available to me to make it so that I can eat there, but I choose not to because I prefer to give my money to local restauranteurs as well as eat a helluva lot healthier than any fast food joint allows.

You see, Christianity tells me to "render to Caesar that which is Caesar's", but it never tells me to participate in Caesar's optional processes - only those which are mandated by those Jehovah has placed over us. Voting, well, it just can't be found in the Bible as a mandate.

I'm not a formal theologian. I'm a purchasing agent who loves photography almost as much as I enjoy theology. I got my bachelor's degree is in Religion because I thought it was the only major I would definitely use the rest of my life. So far, that's holding true (something like six careers later!!!!!).

Part of me gets seriously pissed when I see Christian Pastors touting political agendas. Part of me gets pissed when I see any "Christian" tout any political agenda. Not because I don't believe God can't (or won't) work through politics - he obviously does or we wouldn't have governments in the first place. It's because, as Christians, our primary responsibility isn't to make a change in the political face of our country. It's our country, not our home.

Not that pressing for change is bad, because it's not. As believers, I think we should be pressing for change in many arenas. I just think we should be seen more and heard more in arenas other than politics. I think we should be the prophetic voice of Jehovah calling out in the wilderness that says, "Prepare the way of Jehovah!"

Mostly in the arenas where Christ himself sends us (and I just don't see any politicians in the New Testament - maybe I'm still blinded to that, I don't know) - to the poor, the outcast, the downtrodden, the prisoners, the rich who can't see their need because of all the shiny junk they've accumulated, the blind, et al & et cetera.

You see, I don't think any politician can bring about the change that I most hope for. I think it will only come by the work of the Holy Spirit in this world through the Kingdom of God. Yes, I believe He has already established His Kingdom through His Church, and to quote Rich Mullins, "What's scary about God is He didn't come up with any Plan B. He left the Church here and the Church is the only group of people and the only institution in the world that can make a change . . . The Church was chosen by God to make a difference." He goes on to talk about politicians and educational systems and such before reminding us yet again that it's not by the powers of this world that God brings about change. It's more likely to be despite the powers of this world.

I see no place in modern American politics for the Church. We as individual believers should live out our Christianity as examples of what it's like to be godly. Mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, pastors, purchasing agents, photographers, scientists, doctors, students, technicians, customer service representatives, children.

Hmm. Children. Now there's a thought.

So those of you who are Christian and read this, I challenge you - Rethink you're political position. Better yet, give up you political position. Care for the orphans and the widows. Be the best ________________ you can be for the glory of God, whether it be any of those listed above or any other profession (and I don't believe the founding fathers intended for politician to be a profession, rather a duty when chosen by the people (yet again, I digress despite my pitiful self-restraint). Put yourself to the task of answering God's call in your life. You have one or you wouldn't be Christian.

And no, the call of God ain't just to "full-time Christian minstry" as a profession. That's such a load of crap. If God called you, it's not to make you comfortable in your belief or your middle-class home with 3.23 kids and the sticker on your vehicle (just why is it people have to put a cross on the minivan and then put the dog, two cats and the goldfish on there anyway?). It's not so you can sit back on your laurels and spout your political position from the pulpits or the papers or the web.

It's so you can serve Him and glorify Him.

Now, I'm going back to my book and prepping my computer for the dreaded "re-format and re-install Windows XP and every damned piece of software you ever bought for it" - I so wish I had converted to a Mac years ago.

Pure Fiction - not my life, just an exercise in imagination

The golden eye of morning glared at me as I trudged up the steps onto the main thoroughfare of town. The day was just cool enough to warrant a jacket over the short sleeves, but I could have cared less. It could have been -30C for all I knew or cared. I was as oblivious to the temperature as I was to the sunlight or the traffic. The wind blew lightly, twisting the steam from my coffee into what I once thought of as captivating twirls and dances of steam - wonderful sights, but not today. Not for many todays.

The entire world seemed gray and dreary in my eyes, no matter the environment. It had for months now, and I had no hope of finding joy in sunlight or temperature or much else around me. This town had become suddenly lonely and foreign to me, despite spending over 40 years exploring every part of it with my camera or my bike or my running shoes. I knew all the back alleyways, quiet coffee shops, quaint artists' shops and all shortcuts to avoid traffic, desipite not getting behind the wheel lately.

I moved into the downtown condo almost three years earlier and settled into a routine of walking around downtown every morning despite the weather. I had nothing else to do with my time and no energy or desire to do much of anything whether it be photograph, cycle, run or work. It all seemed pointless, inane.

I didn't need the income from a normal J-O-B so I had just up and walked away from my wonderful little boring finance job, thinking I would just sell stock photography for fun and a little play money. I put the camera down one day and hadn't picked it up is months, maybe closer to two years by now.

The morning routine had just happened. I woke up one morning and found myself doing the exact same thing. It crept up on me gradually, but with authority. Roll over to look at the clock and it always said 4:57 - I could sleep until 10 as a kid; but had been getting up before the sun for what seemed like forever. Go to the kitchen. Start coffee. Go back to the bedroom and dig out some clothes; jump in the shower; shave, dress and pour my morning ritual into the mug.

That mug. The one that I cherished and yet despised. It reminded me of far too much of what was no longer present in my life. I didn't want to use it for fear of breaking it, but I couldn't not use it because it was so precious. It was one of the few things that reminded me of my past. Of my shattered life and the reason I fled my bucolic countryside home for the urbanity again. The quiet had gotten to me quickly out there. I always thought I could just listen to the birds and the wind and the crackling of the fireplace forever; but I quickly turned it all off and just sat staring at the trees with a glass that kept emptying itself into my bloodstream. I thought about going hiking on the Sierra Nevada trail or up in Alaska for a few months, but I simply never got around to it.

So, here I was, walking down the street of my own hometown with my precious, despised, handmade coffee mug full of twirls and dances and I have no desire to follow my normal routine. I need something new.

I needed to get away and DO SOMETHING!!!!

The question was, "What?"

I'm a shooter

Yes, you read that title correctly. I suppose this post comes as a response to a college friend asking me if the National Ammo Day post was a joke. Clearly not.

I shoot.

Guns.

The picture above is taken from the mfg's website and is the current top of my lust list. In 10mm.

As long as I can remember, I've been a shooter. BB guns (nobody got their eye put out!), .177 caliber air rifles and .22LR's were the standard of the day. My first experience with anything of significant power was when I was 10 yrs old. My father, an uncle or twenty and my great-grandfather were at my great-grandparents' house in the country and they were going to do some shooting. Perfectly normal, common activity in the South, in that area, and especially in my family.

I was a scrawny kid. When I graduated high school I weighed 150-ish soaking wet and was 6'2" so you can imagine what I was at the ripe old age of ten. Split rail skinny.

My family is the typical Southern family. They are gentle and kindhearted, but mischievous as the day is long. My great-grandfather probably passed that trait down through his DNA, because he always seemed to have a $h!t-eating grin on his face every time I saw him. He developed a love for the outdoors, hunting, Red Setters, horses, family and fun in nearly all of his kids, grandkids, and greats. I was the last of the great-grandkids he taught to shoot.

The guns for the afternoon were the typical ones in the family. It was early Fall, before Thanksgiving and the opening of quail season. That meant shotguns needed to be put through their paces to make certain they were still in good working order after spending the Summer in their cases and stories needed to be told about past hunts. I learned that even in his 70's my great-grandfather could drag himself and several others all over his little corner of Laurens County after quail, covering an easy 10-12 miles during the day. We stopped seldom for food or drink. If we were hungry, we quickly learned to bring our own snacks in our coat pockets and there were always plenty of water sources close by until we could make our way to Tab's for an RC and a Moon Pie or a Pepsi with peanuts dropped in it - no! I'm not making that part up.

My Dad's shotgun of choice was a J.C. Higgins 12 gauge bolt-action 28" barreled monstrosity that had a full choke. Being that it was my Father's, I had to shoot that one. Remember, split-rail skinny.

My great-grandfather suggested I aim for a cluster of pine cones up in the top of one of the trees and see if I could hit them. Actually, he suggested I take the one on the left out and leave the other two intact. I think I looked at him in utter awe thinking if he really wanted me to do that, then by gosh that's what I was gonna do!

Needless to say, I nearly had to pick myself up off the ground and I found out why he always told me to stay out from behind his red stallion. I thought I had been kicked by a horse!

The first word I remember hearing from him was not, "Are you OK?"

It was, "Well, $h!t! He hit the one on the left! The other two are still there".

I started saving that day for my very own shotgun and bought a 20-gauge single shot the following Spring. It and my father's bolt-action mechanical horse-hoof reside under my roof today.

What have I done?????

I'm fairly technologically savvy. I build my own computers from the ground up. I add components to a laptop without thinking twice about it. I know my cameras and my software. I have broadband at the house, and a cell phone (dammit!) and a wireless network. I mean, really, I have even setup a VPN for the house and the church. I'm not technologically inept. I converted to digital photography before it became too onerous to shoot film, adapting early and quickly and enjoying it along the way.

I understand how addictive it can be - this technology upon which we've come to rely. I'm not addicted to it, just usually very obsessed and some obsessions last much longer than others. Diesels are one of them. Photography is another. I enjoy my truck, probably far too much - but hey, it gets 22mpg and can haul my house if I want it to. I love photography - enough that I could take a camera and disappear for weeks on end and never sell a single photo - and be fine with that! I know my way around Photoshop and now Lightroom just so I can keep my stuff organized and looking the way I want them to look.

I'm fairly well connected with people with whom I'm close. I mean really close - my immediate family, my church, my close friends (people that I see and have dinner with more than once every 5 years), and my co-workers. These are the people that surround me in daily life. The ones with whom I commune.

I e-mail; I use the cell phone; I leave voice messages and occasionally text (GAH!); and I try to have lunch at least once a week with someone I consider a close friend or family member. I even tried to connect with my uncle and my brother today, on a whim that didn't pan out, but ended up hangin' with a buddy from the office on an errand to just connect about our lives.

I'm not a social butterfly. I'm not the life of the party. I'm very introverted and cautious. I just received a report back from an assessment I took for the office that pegged me as a flat 0% for "gregariousness". Out of the 2+ MILLION people who've taken this, 100% scored higher than me on their inclination to be social. Yep, that's me. Everything else is learned behavior. REALLY!!! It is. I promise!

I read blogs every weekday and most weekends. I love Google Reader since it sticks them all in one place and constantly refreshes. No slogging through 100+ pages of medical interest, photographic, friends, complete strangers and even just plain fun stuff.

But this weekend came the fateful, dreaded, curs-ed invite.

We all know the one. It's the one that absolutely sucks time completely out of our lives. We awake semi-comatose from too little sleep and too much caffeine (or wine) and we attempt to function productively at our J-O-Bs in a vain effort to pretend we can be everything to everyone.

I should've known if for no other reason than the person who sent me that curs-ed e-mail. He's one of the highest energy people I've ever met and I had the pleasure of becoming great friends with him in the early 90's. He moved out West.

I stayed close to home, even moved away from the city into a fairly rural lifestyle where I have to cut, haul, and split my own firewood without too much benefit of "modern technology". Mauls, wedges, and now fiberglass handles. Dirt floors in the workshop and the stable (no there are no aminals, nor will there be anytime soon!); surrounded by woods with creeks running through them where the kids play and grow; little pond where I can cast my fly-line when I have the urge; and peace and quiet.

He and I have lost contact, as much from the distance as from all the above-mentioned clutter in my life - I can't speak for his.

I read real books. Augustine, Calvin, Barth, Dagg, Cussler, Shaw, - biographies, theology, fiction, absolute crap (Shaw), and glorious tomes that I want to memorize but never find the time or the discipline to accomplish. I despise TV - OK, maybe not completely, but enough to avoid it during American football season and most evenings when CSI or The Unit are on. I try to spend time with the kids, or workin with the lathe or the camera, or remodeling a bathroom or a kitchen, or adding a filtration system to the well (but not messing with the well pump - that's bad news). I wake early and go to bed late, filling my day with all sorts of things that keep me busier than I should be already.

Now, I've gone and done the un-thinkable. And I have to tell my wife, because she's going to start noticing all the things that no longer get accomplished around the house.

I've gone and answered the invite.

It's a very good thing the filters at the office don't let the site through, because I would never get anything accomplished.

I joined Facebook.

dammit!

FINALLY

From January 21st, 2008 until yesterday, I have been without my guitar. It's a 1974 Martin D-35 that I bought as my college graduation gift to myself.

I picked it up yesterday @ 1400hrs from Hughes Stringed Instruments, LLC

Hughes Stringed Instruments LLC
Randy Hughes
44 Witch Hazel Way
Fairview, NC 28730
828 628 9777


My test on any guitar is to tune it to an open tuning (such as DADGAD) and then grab a capo and see how well it stays in tune as I work my way up the fretboard. If it requires little to no-tuning then I'll consider it for purchase. When I dropped my D-35 off in January, it would not have made my list of considerations.

Randy handed me a capo with a huge smile on his face and watched as I did something on this guitar I've not been able to do in the 15+ years I've owned it. I tuned it accordingly and put the capo on the 5th fret. It played beautifully and required absolutely no re-tuning.






It's not as though I expected anything less. He works on guitars for performing artists and other luthiers from around the world (David Wilcox, Doyle Dikes, Vince Gill, Brad Paisley, Jim Olson Guitars, C.F. Martin, Gibson Guitars, McPherson Guitars, and the list goes on!)

Suffice it to say that I am tremendously pleased!!! When I got home I parked myself on the coffee table and played for about two hours. I have lots of chord transitions to re-learn.

Of course, I'll be more pleased when I sell this one and can buy a concert or jumbo-style - haven't figured out what I want yet.

National Ammo Day

Just a friendly reminder . .


NATIONAL AMMO DAY


I'll be headed out to purchase a couple hundred rounds today, thenkyouverymuch!

Link

Some things just need to be said more loudly.

Like this.

Labor Day

Most of the U.S. looks forward to the first Monday in September because it's a day of vacation. For me, I take it at face value - I labor.

You see, my everyday job involves sitting behind a desk 95% of the time. I do not do manual labor to earn my paycheck. It's not that I mind earning my paycheck with the sweat of my brow, just that I don't have to at this juncture in life.

I do however, own 5 acres in the country - with 3 outbuildings and a pond.

I have a burn/brush pile about 10' in diameter and about 6' tall - and growing. My woodpile (to keep us warm this winter) is a very amorphous shape that looks roughly like overlapping circles approximately 15' in diameter and about 4' tall. They are both growing significantly. One due to the recent weather activity that has induced all sorts of limbfalls around the yard. The other due to me agreeing to take a fallen 36" diameter white oak out of someone's yard (sight unseen!!!).

The white oak is going to cost me 2 full days labor, a couple of lunchtime trips and a lot of backache. Oh yeah, and about $500 for a chainsaw that will actually be a lasting investment. The FIL's Stihl just ain't doin' the trick on the trunk. I have to cut wedges out of it since the 18" bar isn't enough to make a through-cut.

I may actually give in and borrow/rent/buy an hydraulic log-splitter since my 12 and 14 yr old log splitters (my sons) probably won't get it all done before it rots. There's still last summer's wood waiting for them.

The pond normally receives a raking swath with the weedeater twice a summer; but due to the drought, I got away with using the push mower to cut about 1/2 the circumference yesterday afternoon. The kids loved it because they were able to get some cool pics (they took nearly 800 over the weekend, so there oughta be something worthwhile) of the critters that live around the pond since I (temporarily) decimated the micro-environment of the pond bank.

We also hauled about 500 bricks to the lean-to on the workshop in hopes of one day using them to install a somewhat solid floor.

That said, Tuesday was a welcome respite to be back in the office. It allowed my muscles to recuperate in anticipation of my next day away. My joints, however, didn't fare so well. They creaked and cracked at every move.

more woodturning

This is more of the Dry Bradford Pear wood I've had laying around in the woodpile. I'm moving on to other types of wood since I finally bought a bandsaw blade. One of my co-workers nearly gave me a heart attack last week when he told me he had a bunch of cherry burl and that it didn't split worth a hoot. He's been burning them for years!

I don't have dimensions because just after I took these pictures, I gave the toy away to a co-worker's child.

Woodturning - project #4

This is project #4 - Dry Bradford pear wood. The finish was much better until I nicked it against the tool rest parting it off.

Sanded to 400 grit. No finish.

Dimensions: 1.75" tall, 2" diameter




I'm spending too much time doing woodturning and not enough doing photography.

This weekend is a clean-the-house and fix-the-storm-door while the wife's at work kinda weekend, so no woodturning.

My first fine art prints

So that photo above and the one below are going to be printed on gallery wrap canvas to be hung in the office where I spend my 45-ish hrs a week doing what I don't particularly enjoy.

Haven't decided what size yet, but at least 24" x 36" if not 30" x 40".

Got my business cards in the other day as well and there's a drag-race shoot lined up for September 6th!!!

Lunchtime reading

One of these days, I'll find a different book to read during lunch breaks, such as they are.

For now, it's Augustine's City of God.

Quote for the day comes from Book XI, Chapter 21 . . .

There is no Creator higher than God, no art more efficacious than the Word of God, no better reason why something good should be created than that the God who creates is good.


I think I'll be meditating on that one for a while.

My Christmas Reading List

I'm boycotting the Olympics.

Yep, you read that correctly. It's not that I'm surprised the IOC awarded the games to Beijing, just that I fundamentally disagree with their choice.

China has a horrible human rights record. They censor everything they can and lock people up just because they don't agree with the Party line. The street sweeping operations have put more Christians in jail than the world will ever realize - only because the Chinese doesn't want any "disruptions". We have long forgotten Tiananmen Square and the shock of the world at the outcome.

Anyway, I'm doing some reading I've needed to catch up on since Christmas.

First off, I'm picking up Frederick Buechner's compilation "Listening to Your Life"


It's a wonderful little daily meditation on such things as Avarice, Darkness, Jobs, Wine, Limitations, Today, Myth, Sunset, Friends, Boredom, and Virtue. Today's read is "Alcoholics Anonymous".

One of the others is John Calvin's Institutes of Christian Religion



It's one of those books I just feel the need to read since I haven't ever read both volumes completely.

Another is John Owen's The Doctrine of Justification by Faith


It was a gift that I've started a dozen times and fallen away from as many times because of the 1677 eloquence found in the prose (that's my story and I'm stickin' to it).

I also hope to finish The Works of Jonathan Edwards, Vol 2 since I'm almost done with it - that will mean both volumes, although it's taken me 3+ years to accomplish that feat.

I also hope to kick start my photography thing by starting to post some stock photography to some agencies to see if I can begin the road to success and maybe transition into it within the next {cough, sputter} years.

Not feeling very creative lately

I need some sort of wake up call, or muse, or daydream starter, or . . . hmmm, maybe a mini-vacation. I need some sort of impetus to get my brain re-started because it's in a state of atrophy sitting at this desk all day.

I seldom find my camera in my hands. I hate that. I mean, I love photography, but I never do it!

Actually, never isn't quite correct. Just very little.

I got a phone call last night - on the way home from an evening meeting and dropping off my oldest son with his Granparents - saying that my wife was going to sleep and I would find all the clothes I needed for the next day someplace other than our bedroom. She wasn't being mean about it, she just happens to be a light sleeper and I'm a very large impediment to that. Thus, I was in no hurry to get home.

I detoured to the campus of my alma mater in hopes of re-kindling some of the creativity that flowed through my brain during the 4 years I crammed into 5 to get a degree.

I'm not certain it worked, because I'm still in the dumps, but at least I took a few pictures.

Just after I got the tripod setup and shot a couple of test shots a group of people walked by and asked if I was "getting any good shots?" My answer is still, "It's too early to tell."

Uncles, computer issues, and old cars

I got a call today from an uncle with whom I spend far too little time. He's widowed (I was with him and his wife as she passed away) and lonely and he has little to do with his time. I've always known him by his nickname - one he earned at his very first job - "scoop"ing ice cream.

Several years ago, he & I went computer shopping. He has no desire to get online or learn any new technology. The man had his wireless phone company shut down his voice mail because he didn't want to be bothered by it. He did get rid of his home phone because he can talk when he wants and to whom he wants (as long as nobody's number changes and they don't tell him or physically put the new number in his cell phone - like I had to update my cell # in his phone today because he called my Dad to get my cell #). He simply needed something to do.

He plays golf. He plays 2-3 times per week at the same course he's been playing for over 40 years. He shoots less than his age.

Of course, he plays golf on his computer as well. Tiger Woods '06 to be precise. When he can get it to work.

That was today's phone call. So, 30 minutes to town from the office over (a slightly extended) lunch to figure out why it wouldn't work. I get these calls 3-4 times a year, and today is the first time I was able to just drop what I was doing and go over there. It was a very short visit, by his standards. It was certainly shorter than I wanted, but it was immediate - something very rare in my ability to visit him.

The computer's fixed. The games all work again. It took about 10 minutes. He can play golf from the comfort of his spare bedroom when it's 96* and walking the golf course would be a very unwise use of his time.

He also has this affinity for 50's era automobiles. Notice, I did not say "cars". My maternal grandfather refused to drive a "car". Fords, Chevrolets, and Dodges were "cars". His Chrysler and his DeSoto were Automobiles. My uncle seems to share a similar taste, although his automobiles would be snubbed by Grandpa as mere cars. These cars are #1 and #4 in his constantly changing collection. The '52 Chevy and the '63 Ford Falcon convertible have moved on to other homes. He currently has a '51 Chevy and a '53 Ford. Both of them are black. Beautiful automobiles. Very fine Automobiles, especially by today's middle class mentality.

No, they don't have leather seats or integrated navigation systems (well, one does have a compass, but it's aftermarket). He lamented to me that there are only two AM stations he can get in the Ford. I don't think the Chevy has a radio. What they do have is style. They have great curves (for a vehicle). They have a certain verve about them that today's vehicles don't seem to, unless said modern vehicle has a 6-figure price tag and is made in either Italy or Germany.

So, I had a good, albeit too short visit with my dear uncle.

The office is having troubles getting e-mails through the filters. Seems that nobody outside our office can get through to us via that wonderful mode of communication. Right now, I don't think most people realize it. When they do, the phones will be uncontrollable. Me, I wish I'd taken a longer lunch. We could've dug up an ice cream joint and spent another hour or 4 hanging out.

My New Addiction

I'm a goner.

I am so sunk.

My 14 yr. old son called me from a yard sale Saturday morning to wake me to an entirely new world of addiction. He brought me full-tilt into this world and I am in a whole new barrel of trouble.

I spent 2 hrs last night hidden from my family; slinking around the workshop; trying to figure out how to explain this to my wife when she starts to notice.

I then spent another 3 hrs working on stuff to help make this addiction work better for me.

I've fallen into woodturning.

Used lathe; turning tools that need sharpening, honing, polishing; new sharpening stones and guides; increased power bills; piles of wood shavings on the workshop floor; a burning desire to pore over every pile of wood I see from now to forever; an even bigger burning desire to spend a whole bunch of money buying up new toys, er, I mean, tools that, of course I need; these are all symptoms of my new-found addiction.

My son will likely never get to use the lathe.

That's not true. He's home a lot more than I am during the daytime.

Somebody needs to rescue me now before I hit rock bottom.

Table Talk

While prepping for dinner tonight, I discovered that my wife's 94 yr old grandmother must've lost her sense of smell. I thought it was only something ER people did, but apparently it goes away with age. My wife's finally looking forward to something about growing old.

She has the most sensitive nose of anyone I've ever met. I really think she could sniff out drugs or explosives or other such dangerous stuff if she tried hard enough.

While we were sitting at the dinner table this evening, talk turned back to the family's discovery about great grandma. She had a necrotic possum carcass under her house.

It's July. In South Carolina.

She couldn't smell it.

Of course, since I spent 5 years in the ER, anything's fair game for dinner conversation. My wife is a long-time veteran of the ER. Her best friend ate lunch with her and some other nursing students once in college. She vowed to never repeat that mistake. ER people can talk about necrotic tissue, bodily discharges, blood, guts, wounds, death, dying, and all sorts of other otherwise taboo dinner conversation while eating - and enjoying the food, mind you.

Our youngest son didn't appreciate our discussion this evening. He ate about half his burger before suddenly becoming "full" - not normal. He had to point out to us that the dinner-table conversation really wasn't very appropriate.

Something tells me he'll never become a physician or a nurse.

His brother could care less.

Who's joshin' who here

Every wonder who's responsible for propagating things like this?

Yum!

We went berry picking last Friday - mainly to gather in the taste of my wife's childhood, black raspberries. Of course, since there were red raspberries just beginning to ripen . . . well, the kids couldn't resist (and we didn't try to stop them).

Queen's Berry Farm, in Brevard, NC is a really cool place and not just because of the berries. We picked rhubarb and onions and could've stuck around all day just chatting and snapping pictures of the flowers, barn, signs, berries, and butterflies and a really cool beetle.





I think it's time for a Saturday trip to Highway 11 with some 5-gallon buckets to pick blackberries.

Our very own blueberry crop just started in earnest yesterday. I came home to find a freshly picked gallon on the table inside the door.

Independence Day

Independence Day just doesn't do that much for me. OK, so it gives me a day off work this year (and most year's, but not all) to spend with my family. That's quite wonderful.

Don't get me wrong. I am very appreciative for the freedom that is afforded to me by the sacrifice of others. My Dad and paternal Grandfather and many other family members have served or do serve in the armed forces. I hold their service in high esteem. I appreciate the fact that I have never had to serve.

I will always disagree with the aged Marine Corps League representative at my uncle's funeral who said, "He will meet us at the pearly gates saying, 'Semper Fi'!" I felt sorry for him because he obviously held the Marine Corps in higher esteem than does God.

Here are some quotes and musings that give an idea of what I tend to look for around this time of the year . . .

"War is not a way of life, an interminable series of hit-and-run raids for the sake of vendetta and tribal honor, in societies built on blood and discord. War is awful, to be waged only as a last resort, and with terrific intensity, to elicit a desired outcome in the shortest possible time."

copyright http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200806u/medal-of-honor

" War is an ugly thing but not the ugliest of things; the decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feelings which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. A man who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself." - John Stuart Mill

"There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors." - C. S. Lewis

This one's my all-time favorite musical statement about how American Believers should respond to the world around us . . . it was performed by a now-dead guy, Rich Mullins.

LAND OF MY SOJOURN

And the coal trucks come a-runnin'
With their bellies full of coal
And their big wheels a-hummin'
Down this road that lies open like the soul of a woman
Who hid the spies who were lookin'
For the land of the milk and the honey
And this road she is a woman
She was made from a rib
Cut from the sides of these mountains
Oh these great sleeping Adams
Who are lonely even here in paradise
Lonely for somebody to kiss them
and I'll sing my song, and I'll sing my song
In the land of my sojourn

And the lady in the harbor
She still holds her torch out
To those huddled masses who are
Yearning for a freedom that still eludes them
The immigrant's children see their brightest dreams shattered
Here on the New Jersey shoreline in the
Greed and the glitter of those high-tech casinos
But some mendicants wander off into a cathedral
And they stoop in the silence
And there their prayers are still whispered
And I'll sing their song, and I'll sing their song
In the land of my sojourn

Nobody tells you when you get born here
How much you'll come to love it
And how you'll never belong here
So I call you my country
And I'll be lonely for my home
And I wish that I could take you there with me

And down the brown brick spine of some dirty blind alley
All those drain pipes are drippin' out the last Sons Of Thunder
While off in the distance the smoke stacks
Were belching back this city's best answer

And the countryside was pocked
With all of those mail pouch posters
Thrown up on the rotting sideboards of
These rundown stables like the one that Christ was born in
When the old world started dying
And the new world started coming on
And I'll sing His song, and I'll sing His song
In the land of my sojourn

In the land of my sojourn
And I will sing His song
In the land of my sojourn



Copyright 1993 - Edward Grant, Inc., Kid Brothers of St. Frank Publishing

Do you know . . .

It is nigh about impossible to find a real ice cream shop around Columbia, SC if you're not from around there. I'm certain there's a BR-31, or a DQ, or a TCBY around there somewhere if you know where to look.

I didn't. So we explored.

There is a Zesto in Chapin. Here's a map.

Makes for a fun time watching kids eat chocolate-dipped soft-serve cones. Especially when the boys get the medium cones instead of the small ones.

Congaree Butterfly Count - 2008

The NABA sponsors yearly butterfly counts around this time of year; something we discovered last year, just in the nick of time. So, Saturday was our 2nd annual trip to the Congaree National Park's Butterfly Count. I took all the kids this time.

We counted 38 species in the morning walks and I got pics of some butterflies I have not seen previously - Zebra Swallowtail (pictured top) and Carolina Satyr (pictured below the ZS) for two of them.

Butterflies are my daughter's passion. She was the "expert" for our walking group - and at 9 yrs old, she impressed everyone (including me). As we walked into one meadow, she started naming species faster than anyone else could even find them.

The afternoon walk was stormed out. The clouds rolled in along with wind and driving rain and hail. Not a good environment for butterfly counters . . . or the butterflies.

44 years

Well, Spain did it. They beat the Germans and I was watching the whole thing.

44 years. It was a very, very, very long time. Good for them.

But you know what?

My Cardinals won yesterday :) Now, they're only 2.5 games behind the Cubs (my youngest son is beginning to get worried). Which means this weekend should be a fun time around the house, what with the series starting Friday in St. Louis.

Big Falls Creek - quick trip

Yesterday was my first trip to the "corporate retreat and conservation center" - aka Big Falls Creek. Nice little place. Off the grid. Propane heat, appliances, etc. Gravity fed water system from the waterfalls.

I could spend a lifetime up there I think.

She's rooting for Spain

Last night my wife and I were discussing the upcoming euro2008 final. We're spending Sunday afternoon glued to the tube instead of my normal afternoon nap that day. 1430hrs normally finds me snoozing on the couch.

I think Germany will likely win the game and I'm actually pulling for them.

She, on the other hand, is all about Spain taking home the win - and I quote, "I hope Spain wins. They haven't been in the final in a very, very, very long time . . . I think."

She always pulls for the underdog - unless it's the Yankees.

Baseball still rules supreme in our household, much to my chagrin during (real) football season.

Just about here

My youngest son picked the first ripe blueberry out of our orchard yesterday. That means we'll be picking in earnest by the vacation weekend of the 4th!

I can hardly wait since last year's crop was abysmal due to a late frost. Abysmal as in we didn't get an entire gallon from all 18 bushes.

This year's crop looks to be one of the best we've seen in our 7 seasons.

Of course, next year we hope to have about 50 more plants in the ground and maybe get some muscadines and scuppernongs off the 30 yr. old +/- plants given to me by my uncle.

The plum trees are growing nicely as is the Granny Smith green apple tree and the pear tree actually has two pears on it. Quite the surprise since this is only it's first full growing season.

The peaches never produce. I have no idea why.

Euro 2008 - Turkiye!

You can read all the details here but the important thing is that, even though Croatia kicked the Turks in the mouth (yes, literally - this is football, after all) in the first half, the persistence of the Turks paid off and they won in penalty shootouts.

Maybe, just maybe, the Brit announcers will learn how to pronounce Galatasaray, Beşiktaş, and Fenerbahçe properly during the Semi-Finals. Their emPHAsis is on the wrong syLLAble.

It's hard to get good football (yes, I know we Americans call it soccer, I played it all of my formative years) on the tube, and even harder when the games happen in the middle of the work day. That's why I was awake unto 0330 this morning - watching the replay.

I may have to call in "well" Wednesday.

Fun new things

I can't wait to get my hands on these

I love cool old things

I think finding old things is just super cool. Old, empty bird's nests; old houses (especially the ones turned into waterfront cafe's in Instanbul); old bricks; old shoes; old barns; old ferry boats; old rocks (OK, not too many new ones around); and old books.

My latest favorite is an old book I found buried in the recesses of our attic back when it was temperate enough to actually go up there. The Political History of Slavery - that's the official subtitle, the whole title takes up the entire page - written in 1858. Quite an insight into the history and the machinations of several countries prior to the upheaval that split a nation only two years after it's publication. I really have no idea how it got to my attic. It was with a bunch of other old books that belonged to my great-uncle, Rumsley T. Bennett who was lost at sea during WWII. This book was re-printed in 1969, so I know it wasn't his. I'm left scratching my head trying to figure out how it got to me. Most of the other old books up there went to people such as my sons' math teacher who will appreciate Plane Geometry much more than I. One went to an elder at church who has a serious affinity for reading only dead authors.

One of the other present favorites is the old truck pictured here and found over at a local farm.

It's just too damn hot to pay attention to signs like that!!!

Surprises

I love surprises.

You know the kind - the best ones are where you could never have planned things to be just the way they were, yet things work out wonderfully better than you ever thought they might.


Mt. Mitchell is the highest peak East of the Mississippi River.



This is what it looked like Saturday, September 15, 2007 around 11 o'clock in the morning.








We found these growing all over the place:



Now raspberries are a favorite fruit in our family but very rare down South, especially in September. So to find them growing all around the picnic area at the summit was a suitable replacement for the view we so hoped to find.




We hung around for a couple of hours and enjoyed the fog at the picnic shelters, picking raspberries, taking pictures of birds & berry bushes and kids frolicking around in the fog.

Then we headed down toward Craggy Gardens and on to other planned and unplanned parts of the day.

The surprises continued at Craggy when we discovered that there were still some late-season Huckleberries along the path to the trail shelter & lookout.

We saw a couple of butterflies - a Cloudless Sulphur and a Pintail Swallowtail, but alas no Monarchs. The rain from Tropical Storm Humberto as well as us being about 30 miles North of their migration route seemed to have derailed those efforts this trip.

But the fog was splendid.

America, Apple Pie, and Baseball

The All-Star Game must the just below the ultimate in Americana.

The best in the game, defined by the fans, play in a game for fun.

And bragging rights.

And home field advantage in the World Series.

We watched it last night. Well, most of it. I fell asleep around the 7th inning.

I did learn some cool things.

1) My oldest son doesn't like whoever-it-was that sang the National Anthem. He muted the TV for that part. He doesn't dislike the Anthem, mind you. Just the singer.

2) My kids were not aware that displaying the flag horizontally violates the Federal Flag Code ( Title 4, Section 8.c ).

3) I hate commercials (OK, I already knew that).


Of course, I grew up loving and playing soccer - a sport played 'round the world that certainly isn't American in derivation.

I stunk at baseball. Final 3 seasons - .000 batting average. Final season - 3 at bats, no walks, no hits, no errors. Right field just ain't no fun.

I am so in the land of my sojourn here.

Oh yeah, one more thing.

4) I would rather see any of my kids having fun on the ballfield than watch sports on TV (I already knew that too).

Starting Something New

0500 - forgot to re-set the alarm clock.

Don't have to wake up until 0600 on Tuesdays.

Quiet house.

Twilight.

Rural Southern morning-style.

Light fog.

June bugs on the sidewalk. Better than on the roses or the blueberries.

Sprayed the roses, twice already. Refuse to spray the blueberries.

I eat them off the bushes when we're picking.

Big spiderweb between the two posts on the front porch.

Walked right smack into it.

When I grow up I want to do all this again - live in the country; get to travel to some fun places (like the photo - Istanbul); play as a photographer; have a wonderful family; and finally settle into a regular life where I go to work in the morning, come home in the evening, have dinner, go swimming with the kids at the "Y", and settle in with a good book at the end of the day.

Except for the spiderweb part, maybe. I knew it was there. I avoided it twice last night while out with the dog. Should've know better.

Story of my life.