you've got on your brown shoes.....

Let me go ahead and state for the record that I realize I can be a horrible person. I sometimes find humor in things that other people may not. Television networks have created shows like "Reno 911" and "The Office" for people just like me. So if you want to tell me what a terrible person I am after you read this, just understand that I'm way ahead of you - I already know.
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I decided to go out to the west side of town for lunch yesterday. I needed to run by Stein Mart on White Bridge Road and check out some prices on clothes.

Before going to Stein Mart, I stopped in at Wendy's for some food. I usually just go through the drive-thru, but today I decided I wanted a baked potato. Since it's difficult to eat a baked potato in the car, I chose to eat inside.

It was 11:15 and there were about 8 other people in front of me in line. After waiting for maybe 90 seconds, I noticed an older lady come in the side door and she's talking up a storm with a guy who's on his way out the door. I figured they knew each other, so I didn't think anything about it.

Then the lady gets in line behind me, but only for about 15 seconds. I notice that she starts to move just to the side of me in line. There's a little girl who looks to be about 4 years old standing in line with her grandparents just ahead of me. The older lady, now beside me in line, taps the little girl on the shoulder. The little girl turns around, gets this scared look on her face and starts clinging to her grandmother's leg. The older lady says, "Oh, honey, just look at me. I just want to tell you that I love you!" The grandparents get this nervous look on their faces and keep saying "She's just shy" over and over. My first thought was, "Poor old lady. She's probably very lonely and was just thrilled to see this cute little girl. She probably just wanted some attention."

Another couple of minutes pass. I feel a tap on my shoulder. I knew it was the older lady. I figured she was going to tell me about the little girl, how cute she was and how she would have loved to talk to her a little more. So I turn. The older lady points at my shoes and starts singing to me -

"You've got on your brown shoes, and I've got on my brown shoes, and we'll go a-walking....."

Not only is she singing, she starts moving her arms, almost in a running moting, and she begins to dance. And the look in her eyes is if she's inviting me to join her. Of course, I decline the offer.

By this time I'm rethinking my previous speculations about this lady. I'm thinking, "Houston, we have a nut" and "Oh, (insert your favorite word here), what have I just stepped into here??????"

I give her a smile, the kind of smile you give someone who you're trying to be nice to without alluding to any kind of obligation on my part for further interaction. I wasn't rude, just non-committal. The smile doesn't work.

"Have you ever heard of Jimmie Rodgers?" I nodded and said that I had. At this point, I was willing to say that I'm best friends with both Michael Jackson and Tom Cruise to speed this conversation along. She began telling me about a time when her brother brought home their first Victrola and how she loved to sit and listen to Jimmie Rodgers records over and over again. How she loved to hear Jimmie Rodgers yodel. Then there was more singing, complete with hand gestures. It had something to do with a train, because I distinctly remember hearing something about about a conductor attempting to collect a fare from a passenger. I'm smiling politely.

Then it happened. The one thing I've never had anyone direct towards me. Not in private, and certainly not in public.

She's evidently finished the first verse, the bridge and the chorus. How do I know this? Because she starts yodeling. Yep, she yodels.

"Yo-dah-lay-he-ho, ah-lay-he-ho, ah-lay-heeeeee..."

So I'm standing there being seranaded by a yodeling older lady in the middle of Wendy's at about 11:20 AM, praying that one of the cashiers will soon rescue me and say "Can I take your order please?"

Finally the cashier calls me over and I move over in mid-yodel. She's still going. I don't think she even realizes I'm gone yet. But I can still hear her. With my luck, I'm thinking to myself, she'll come over and do a show at my table while I'm eating. Should have gotten chicken nuggets to go. I order the potato, strawberry yogurt and a Diet Coke.

I sit down and immediately start eating my potato very fast. So fast that it's burning the inside of my mouth and tongue with each forkful. But I don't care, because I wanted to make sure I didn't have to continue with the concert.

Then I start thinking about what just happened and I have this uncontrollable urge to start laughing. I tell myself that I can't do that; that just wouldn't be right. With every bite, I can feel the laugh building up inside me. I've got to get out of here before I burst from holding in this laugh, I think to myself. I finish up my potato, drink the last sip of Diet Coke, then dump the contents on my tray and leave.

As soon as I get to the parking lot, I realized that in my haste to leave I've thrown away my yogurt. I consider it the price I had to pay in order to prevent another encounter with the yodeler.....

you're one of my favorite people.....

So I'm waiting to ride an elevator up a few floors in the building one day last week. The door opens, the arrow lights up red, indicating that this elevator is going down. A couple of other guys that I've been talking with while waiting step into through the doors to descend. Another gentleman gets out and I say something like "Hey, Fred, how's it going?"

He smiles and says, "Hey, man, you're one of my favorite people. How you doing, Bill?"

Bill.

He calls me Bill.

I'm one of his favorite people and he calls me Bill.

A strange, panicked look spread over his face. I smiled and tried my best to stifle a laugh, which I did mostly but not entirely, and his face turned bright red.

"Bill? Why did I say Bill????? I'm so sorry!" He comes over and puts his arm on my shoulder.

I back up, put my arms up in the air and say, "Dude, just step off, 'k? Look, you can't even remember my name, and then you get all gay and everything and start groping me? I'm sorry, B, but that's just not how I roll! Now, step off, a'ite?"

OK, I'll admit, the last pargraph will completely made up. It's just there to embarrass my 16-year-old daughter. She doesn't like when I use slang like that, so I do it as often as I can.

I told "Fred", after he stumbled and stammered while getting my correct name out, that it was OK. I'm sure he had alot on his mind, it was an honest mistake and it wasn't that big of a deal. I told him that if that was the worst thing that happened to either of us that day, we'd be able to look back and say we'd had a good day. He apologized again and went on his way.

I got on the elevator and waited for the doors to shut before I laughed out loud.....

just turn the radio up.....

Last week I read "Through Painted Deserts" by Donald Miller. It's about Donald and his friend, Paul, who decide to take a trip from Donald's home in Texas to Paul's home in Oregon in an old, beat up, hippie-looking VW van. There's alot of symbolism (how their trip is like a spiritual journey, the van is like our body in that it's fallible, etc.) in the book and I loved it.

At one point in the journey, Donald notices that Paul's face has a certain red glow about it while they're driving one night. He looks at the instrument panel and notices that the "check engine" light is on. He asks Paul if he knew this, and Paul responded that he noticed it about 20 miles back. Their solution? Donald got some gum out of the glove compartment, chewed it for about 30 seconds, then stuck the gum over the light. Problem solved. If you can't see the light that must mean that everything's fine, they reasoned.

It made me think about my first car, the '76 Monza. Any time my car would start to make a strange noise when I was in high school, I'd tell Dad about it. His common response? "Just turn the radio up and you won't hear it!"

Donald Miller and Dad are probably somehow related.....

funny birthday card.....

I turned 42 yesterday. And I lived to tell about it. We had a great weekend and everyone was very nice to me. Not that they aren't always nice to me, but I guess they were "birthday" nice to me this weekend.

I got several cards, but this one made me laugh alot. I've left the signed part of the card off to protect the identity of the not-so-innocent:

chivalry is, in fact, still alive.....

I've lived in the South all my life. There are certain things you're brought up to do as a Southern male. One is that you open doors for ladies. It never ceases to amaze me how surprised some women are when I open a door and allow them to go though first. And I see this happen all the time to other guys.

Wednesday after lunch at Provence (sort of a snooty/yuppie kind of place to eat in the same building as the downtown library; I go there because it's convenient, and the sandwiches are very good; plus, I saw on the show "$40 a day" that Rachel Ray ate there, and I'm hoping to run into her there one day) I came out of the library and paused to hold the door open for a lady going into the library. You would have thought I'd just handed her a hundred dollar bill. She had this overjoyed look on her face that just blew me away. And for those of you who know me, it's not because I'm often mistaken for George Clooney; Curious George, maybe, because we're about the same height and we have about the same amount of neck hair, but never George Clooney.

I remember being in Madison, Wisconsin for a seminar several years ago. I parked my rental car and headed towards the hotel lobby after a day of meetings. The hotel clerk, probably in her early 40's, was also coming in from the parking lot and I opened the door for her. She said, "Well, how nice! Thank you so much!" with an unmistakable nasally tone that only midwestern ladies can emit. I said "You're welcome." She said, "OK, I didn't think you were from around here when you opened the door for me. Now after I've heard you talk, I can definitely tell you're from the South." I told her that I was from Tennessee, and she went on to tell me about once living in Alabama for a year and how she missed the manners displayed by Southerners.

Am I implying that if you're not a Southern guy you're not polite and well-mannered? Absolutely not. It's just that it seems to come naturally for us. Now, on the other hand, just ask the bride how non-gallant I can be when she asks me to hold her purse.....

and i said, what about breakfast at tiffany's.....

The bride had bunco Tuesday night. I'll spare you the sob story about how she came home with her hands smelling of dice and what not. With Sara at camp, that left Meg and me at home alone. I asked if she had any plans and she said she didn't. I asked if she'd like to watch "Breakfast at Tiffany's" with me and she agreed. I recorded the movie from AMC a couple of months ago because I'd always wanted to watch it. (I recorded and watched "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" last month and really enjoyed it.)

At the risk of offending anyone reading this who loved "Breakfast at Tiffany's", I'll have to say that it wasn't one of my favorite movies. And I wasn't alone. Meg felt the same way, so it's not just a "guy thing". And, yes, I understood the overall story - true love is better than having things. It just wasn't one of my favorites. However, since it's considered an American classic, I am glad that I took the time to watch it.

Now, considering that this movie came out in 1961, it was probably a breakout kind of movie. I've been told that Henry Mancini's music was one of the reasons it was so popular. I remember Mom and Dad had the soundtrack when I was growing up. I didn't get "Moon River" at the time.

Here's what I took away from the movie:

* Audrey Hepburn was beautiful, that's a given. (I always thought she was weird looking on the album cover when I was younger. Funny how time changes one's taste.)

* Mickey Rooney's character, Mr. Yunioshi, would be considered politically incorrect today.

* I couldn't watch Buddy Epson without hearing "whee, doggy" in the back of my mind.

* Paul "Fred" Varjak and Col. John "Hannibal" Smith were very different characters for George Peppard.

I've got "The Graduate" on the DVR and plan to watch it soon. I've heard the slow guy from "Rain Man" is in that one.....

could've been worse; could've been michael bolton.....

SYDNEY, Australia - It could be magic for some, but the use of loud Barry Manilow music to drive away late-night revelers from a suburban Sydney park is getting on the nerves of nearby residents.

In a move reminiscent of U.S. efforts to drive former Panama strongman Manuel Noriega from the Vatican Embassy where he took refuge in 1989, the local council in Rockdale, in Sydney's southern suburbs, started a six-month trial of high-volume hits by Manilow and Doris Day to chase away car enthusiasts who were gathering on weekend nights at Cook Park Reserve.

"Barry's our secret weapon," Rockdale Deputy Mayor Bill Saravinovski told The Daily Telegraph newspaper, four weeks after the start of the effort. "It seems to be working."

But some people living near the park are less than enthralled. They say the barrage of "Copacabana," "Could It Be Magic" and "Que Sera Sera," blasting from 9 p.m. to midnight every Friday, Saturday and Sunday is driving them crazy.

"I don't know how I will cope," said Moya Dunn, describing how the songs have invaded her house. "I just can't sleep when it's on, and to think there's going to be another six months of this."

Officials have given in a little, agreeing to turn down the volume a bit after residents complained.
"The initial reaction was that they found it irritating," Saravinovski said. "I'm not disputing what the residents are saying. I can't swallow some of the tracks like `Mandy.'

"We have tried to reduce the sound and we are reviewing the songs. I don't mind Barry Manilow, but I'm more of an ABBA and Celine Dion fan."

In 1989, U.S. soldiers blasted hard rock music and news bulletins about Panama at the Vatican Embassy in Panama City in attempt to drive Gen. Noriega from refuge there. The Vatican complained, and U.S. troops stopped the noise. Noriega later surrendered.

too outta' shape to read.....

Yesterday started off as one of those days I wished I'd just stayed in bed. Out of all the things that "went wrong" in the first 90 minutes I was awake, the one that would weigh most heavily on the events of my day was when I realized I'd forgotten my security badge for work. I NEVER do that! But I'd left it in my car last night and forgot to get it before the guy I carpool with picked me up for work.

See, I work in a building that's interconnected to several other buildings. All the same place, but still you need to have your security badge to get to parts of the complex. Without the security badge, you're a caged animal. And you have to wear the colored badge of shame for the day. And I've been told that those not wearing some kind of badge are subject to cavity searches. (I've never actually seen this happen, but a story like that's gotta' be true!)

By lunchtime, I had to get out of the building. I'd originally told myself I'd just stay in and grab something from the cafeteria rather than face the heat of downtown Nashville at lunch. But I just had to get out. I decided to compromise - walk to Subway, eat a sandwich, then head to the Nashville Library. That way I could get outside for a little while, then duck inside to climate-controlled conditions for a little reading.

There's a spot in the Nashville Library that I like to sit and read. It's on the 3rd floor overlooking the courtyard. On milder days, it's a popular spot for moms to bring their kids for a picnic lunch. There are several Japanese maples surrounding the fountain. It's very pretty, and a nice backdrop for reading. The only problem is that it's on the 3rd floor. That means there are about 66 steps to climb to reach my desired destination. That's alot of steps for someone who's out of shape.

I started running before vacation, but I've yet to get back into the routine again. The first week of running and non-snacking, I lost 3 pounds. It all came back (and then some) during vacation. It's not a matter of not having the desire or ability to run, it's been more of a time thing. That plus the fact that the bride is convinced I'll die while running if the temperature's above 85. That's not to say I'm blaming her for me not running, because I usually do just the opposite of what she says I should do. In this case, it's actually been too hot even for me. The bride and I did get out and walk around 8:30 last night on the golf course Sunday night. It was much cooler on the fairways than the neighborhood streets.

I think I need to find the elevator in the library.....

no need for the sears catalog any more.....

Yeehaw! We got us a turlet upstairs again! The girls are glad they no longer have to go out back. It wasn't so bad at night, but the neighbors were starting to stare during the day.

The original plumber who suggested that we just buy a whole new commode (because I dismantled the old one, thereby rendering it useless) said that he could come back the next day and install it. He told the bride that it would just take about an hour-and-a-half. When she told me that I said he was crazy. I've actually replaced an entire toilet before, and it just took me an hour. And as we've learned, I'm an idiot when it comes to toilet repair. It was going to take this guy, a person who plumbs for a living, 90 minutes to replace our toilet. I told the guy I carpool with that the only way it would take that guy an hour-and-a-half is if he took the new porcelain for a "trial run" after eating bad Mexican food for lunch (of course, I'm paraphrasing here).

We decided to let Home Depot do the installation instead. Took the guy 30 minutes total. That's taking out the old toilet, installing the new one, making sure it flushed properly and that there were no leaks, and taking the old one to his truck. 30 minutes. Think the other guy was getting paid by the hour?

By the way, we didn't want to spend a great deal of money on a new toilet, but we also didn't want to sacrifice comfort. We're pretty pleased with our choice.....

corporal "boots" miller could sell this.....

In May, Lester Clancy was awarded a U.S. patent for a ropeless jump rope (a handle that electronically duplicates the feel of a jump-rope handle), which he said would be practical for, among other places, mental institutions and prisons where actual rope is banned.

OK, let's talk about the mental institution example. I remember an episode of MASH where an injured soldier (Corporal Boots Miller) shot at invisible enemy fighter pilots flying over the compound above the 4077th with a not-so-invisible rifle. He received a Section Eight, was discharged from the army, and went on to start his own toy company featuring a product called "invisible enemy fighter pilot". He never saw the enemy pilots, but he believed they were there; rather, his mind convinced him that they were there.

Ol' Lester is convinced that the ropeless jump rope will be practical for mental institutions. If I were a bettin' man, I'd say that somewhere over time a patient from a mental institution has already "invented" the ropeless jump rope. I mean, I've heard of people who believed they were Benjamin Franklin or Napoleon Bonaparte. Surely at some time a mental patient has believed he's jumping rope without a jumprope.

Perhaps the reason Lester believes the ropeless jump rope will be successful in mental institutions is because he actually escaped from one.....

fm adapter vs. ipod adapter.....

Meg and I went to Circuit City Tuesday night to have a car stereo installed in the Accord. It already had a factory AM/FM/CD player, but it wouldn’t play CD-R’s. Plus, iTrips don’t work too well in the Nashville area, so (gasp!) Meg couldn’t listen to her iPod in the car. I could have ordered the same thing from Crutchfield, saved some money and installed it myself. However, the last time I did that it took me almost 5 hours and since I’d just gone through the toilet debacle, I thought I’d do the smart thing and let someone who knows what they’re doing handle it. Besides, installation was FREE! Yeah, free, right. By the time you add on all the adapters, wiring harnesses, installations kits, etc. (all of which actually comes free from Crutchfield), the installation ain’t all that free. The point is that you end up paying for it one way or another.

We went in thinking we knew which unit we were going to buy. But the salesman showed us a stereo that you could add an iPod adapter to, allowing you all the iPod functionality on the face plate of the stereo. Yes, it was $50 more, but I think it’ll be well worth it in the long run.

This experience made me think about the “stereo” I had in my first car. I was 17, and Dad and I started shopping for a car for me to drive back and forth to school and work. I remember going to look at a Mercury Comet. It looked a lot like the Ford Maverick in the picture, even down to the same puke green color. Don’t get me wrong, I would have taken it. That’s the thing about being a 17-year-old teenage boy who doesn’t have a car to drive – he’ll take anything with wheels and be grateful for it. But deep down I remember actually praying , “God, please don’t let Dad buy this car. I really don’t like it. I’ll take it, but I don’t like it.” Then we looked at a couple of Chevrolet Monzas. Seems like one was a 1977 and the other a 1976. We ended up with the 1976. It was sort of a copper-brown color. And I loved it. I thought it was the greatest car anyone could ever have.

My 1976 Monza didn’t have a CD player. It didn’t have a cassette player. It didn’t even have an FM radio. (And it didn’t have air conditioning!) All it had for entertainment was an AM radio with a 3-inch paper cone speaker in the dash. Smokin’! My solution, since I didn’t have enough money to add a new stereo, was to buy an FM adapter to add to it. For those unfamiliar with an FM adapter, it looked alot like a regular in-dash car radio, only a little slimmer. All you did was plug the adapter into the cigarette lighter outlet, tune your AM radio to 1610, then tune in 101.5 WQUT (or any other FM station) on the FM adapter, and you gots all kinds of stereo tunes coming out of a single 3-inch paper cone speaker in the dash. It wasn’t a Bose, but I could at least listen to Southern Rock instead of static.

So as we stood there in the car stereo section of Circuit City Tuesday night trying to decide whether to go with the front auxiliary input for the iPod or the iPod adapter, I couldn’t help but think back to 25 years ago. Meg's very proud of her car stereo, with its iPod adapter, wireless remote and MP3 capability, but I don't think she's any more proud of it than I was of my FM adapter and my 1976 Chevrolet Monza.....

yet another reason why i'm an idiot/why i hate toilets.....

Before leaving on vacation, we started having toilet problems in the upstairs bathroom. First the handle broke and I had to replace it. Only the kind of handle I bought didn't exactly fit, so I "made" it fit with wire. Problem was that the wire kept rusting and breaking. Then the tank started leaking and the valve wouldn't close all the way, which caused the water the keep running because the tank never filled up. So before we left for the beach, I turned the water supply off to the toilet and put a "do not use" sign on the lid.

Let me stop and say this - I hate repairing toilets. I don't really hate toilets. I've used them all my life with a great deal of success, I might add. I just despise fixing them. Every time I go to fix something "simple", something that should just take 30 minutes, it becomes a difficult 4-hour project. And as much as I hate repairing toilets, I hate having to pay a plumber to fix it for me even more. It takes him about 10 minutes and he charges me through the nose. And I'm sure it's just me, but I also imagine that he snickers when he fixes what I've already screwed up. So to save money, and to save a little of my pride, I've always tried to do it myself.

I went to Home Depot Sunday afternoon and bought the standard toilet repair kit for $10.99. I'd told myself that I'd wait to do it Monday after work, and that I'd go into the project with a positive attitude. The positive attitude thing lasted for about 38 seconds. I go to replace the flapper, only there's no flapper. In the flapper's place is this thing that I've never seen before. (The guy at Home Depot last night said that they'd had alot of leaking problems with the "tower" thing over the flapper. Thanks, I've got that information already.) And I can't get it out of the tank. I pull it, twist it, yank it and turn it. Nothing. The stupid thing isn't budging. By this time I'm wringing wet with sweat, my hands are black from touching the seal inside the toilet, and I have no idea what I'm going to do next. On top of that, I'm mad. Mad that I don't know what to do. Mad that God didn't bless me with the knowledge of a plumber at this partucular moment in time.

So I give in. I tell the bride that we're going to have to get a plumber. By the way, she suggested we do that in the first place. And she reminds me of it. (Ladies, here's a tip, even though you're right and we know you're right, never remind your husband that you suggested he call a plumber in the first place right after he's unsuccessfully tried to fix the toilet and he's lathered up a good sweat. I'm just sayin'.) The bride got online and requested an appointment for a local plumbing company to come by.

I was on my way to lunch Tuesday and the bride calls on my wireless phone. The plumber's there. He said all the toilet needed was a small seal. A small seal on the thing that was there instead of the flapper. Because I'd broken the thing that replaced the flapper (oh, did I mention I broke it when I tried to remove it?), he said the whole tank needed to be replaced. And to be honest, it would be cheaper for us to buy a whole new toilet and then call to have him come back and install it. He then collected his fee for the service charge and told the bride to call when we decided what to do. I'm sure he went back to his office and told all his plumber buddies what this stupid guy did to his toilet.

In summary, if I'd let the bride call in the first place and the plumber had simply replaced the defective seal, I'd be paying about one-third of what we're now going to have to pay. So there's another reason why I'm an idiot. Just add it to the list. For those of you keeping score at home, that's number 12,387.

Henceforth, I vow to ALWAYS call a plumber when we have toilet problems and to NEVER attempt to repair a toilet myself. I guess if I'm going to flush money down the toilet, I might as well pay someone who's qualified do it for me.....

the vacation week in review.....

Friday, June 30

We left on Friday, June 30 at around 9:40 AM, headed for Johnson City to spend the night with Mom and Dad. Traffic was decent, just a slight delay in Knoxville as usual.

Saturday

Saturday morning we met Chris, Kathy, Landon and Kaitlyn at about 7:30 and left around 7:40 for North Myrtle Beach. At this point, the bride would like for me to mention that the three female bladders in our van held out much better than those four total bladders in the Jeep Cherokee that we were following. There’s even a story about a towel (or a t-shirt) and a potty break, but I promised to save that for Landon’s wedding rehearsal dinner.

We arrived at the condo at about 3:45 and unloaded the vehicles. This is the point in the post where I blast Condo World. If you’re traveling to the Myrtle Beach area, avoid this realty company – unless you enjoy being ignored. Use anyone but Condo World. Go with 21st Century/Thomas, Elliott or Condolux, but AVOID Condo World.

We’ve stayed at Ocean Bay Club before. It’s a great facility. However, the unit we rented for the week was not only dirty but also sparsely furnished compared to the other units at OBC. We spent the first couple of hours cleaning out the food around the table surface, cleaning glass tabletops (as seen in the picture), finding LIPSTICK PRINTS on a supposedly clean glass in the cabinet, learning that lamps were not in working order, etc. I called Condo World twice and left messages – neither call was returned. Then I sent a lengthy e-mail detailing all the problems with the unit – no response. (They had the nerve to send us a thank-you e-mail for booking with them when we got back. Attached to the e-mail was a survey. At this point I doubt they’ll do anything with my complaints, but I did go ahead and fill out the survey and I sent them a copy of the original e-mail.)

We went to Bi-Lo that night, as did everyone else in a 10-mile radius. Not fun. Stay away from Bi-Lo at the Beach on Saturday night. It’s not their fault, it’s just crowded.

Sunday

This was a special day because Meg turned 16! We’d already had a surprise party for her before leaving, so we just spent the day hanging out as a family of 8.

We spent the morning on the beach. I spent the majority of my time riding waves. Before going out that morning, the bride applied what we thought was plenty of sunscreen. When we went in for lunch, we realized that we’d left the sunscreen in a bag on the beach so I thought I’d be OK for the afternoon. Bad decision, and I’ll elaborate on it later. I went to bed that night worn out. Chris mentioned that I had played hard that day, and he was right.

We went to Wal Mart that night. Bad idea. As I heard one gentleman remark on the way out of the store, “I ain’t never spent so much #$@% time buying no #$%^ water in all my life.” Eloquently put, my good man.

Monday

On Monday, I became the fat, nerdy kid whose mom made him wear a t-shirt in the ocean because she didn’t want him to get a sunburn, only I was wearing one because I ALREADY HAD a sunburn. Meg mentioned to the bride that this particular look was not a good one for me. I would also learn later in the week that after a good sunburn, no amount of aloe in the world will prevent peeling.

That night we went to the Myrtle Beach Pavilion. The Pavilion will be closing after this year. The owner of the land found that he could make more money selling the property to developers, so next year construction will begin on new condos there. It’s sort of sad in a way. Sara and Landon were our champion “ride riders” of the night. All I rode was the go carts, mainly because I want to throw up after most rides because I get motion sick very easily in my advanced age. Kathy did step up and ride some ridiculously crazy ride that Sara wanted to ride. I don’t do that any more. On those rides which are motion sickness inducing, either Sara rides by herself, gets another adult to ride with her, or she doesn’t ride at all. No more flashbacks to the Williamson County Fair, thank you very much.

Tuesday

Chris and I had a 7:30 AM tee time at Beachwood Golf Club. We played in about 4 hours and 15 minutes, but we could have easily played it in 3 hours. There was a foursome in front of us who held us up quite a bit. This was their shot routine: 4 practice swings behind the ball, 2 more as they addressed the ball, then the actual swing which would send the ball about 10 yards towards its target. At this point, the golf club would be tossed to the side, and the golfer would then thrust his arms heavenward as if to say, “now how did that happen?”. And it wasn’t just one guy doing this. 3 of the 4 “golfers” did this with almost every shot. Marriages have been reconciled in less time than it took these guys to putt. The courteous thing to do when the group behind you is playing faster than your foursome is to let them play through. They weren’t courteous. Frustrating day on the golf course, and my score proved it. I won’t share my score with you, but I will say that I hope to live to be that old. But I also had a sunburn. Yeah, that's it.

We made it back to the condo, had some lunch then went back to the beach for the afternoon. Yes, I still had a t-shirt on for protection. We had take-out pizza from Giorgio’s for dinner. Very good. We watched fireworks from the Cherry Grove pier on our balcony that night.

Wednesday

Another beautiful day. The weather during the week was very good. I was able to don some BullFrog sunscreen and get rid of the t-shirt. The picture to the right is of Chris and Vanna White. Yes, THE Vanna White. Vanna owns a condo there at Ocean Bay Club and spends the week of the 4th there every year. She was very nice and graciously stopped to posed for pictures with anyone who asked.

We ate at Preston’s for dinner. Our family doesn’t eat that much seafood, but Preston’s has a lot of home cooking type of food – fresh vegetables, good rolls, all kinds of meat, and a dessert bar. After dinner, we went to the Tanger Outlet Mall across from Wal Mart. Here’s a tip for anyone traveling with the bride and Meg – don’t take them to an outlet mall and plan to spend just 30 minutes there. They won’t get out of Banana Republic in 30 minutes, whereas I can do the whole complex in 30 minutes.

Thursday

At about 2:00 PM, a storm front rolled through the Grand Strand area. It rained for the rest of the evening, and it cooled things off quite a bit. But the little bit of rain for the week wasn’t all that bad, so I’m not complaining. That night the bride, Kathy and Meg went to another set of outlet malls, returning later that evening at around 11:00 PM. Chris and I stayed in the condo with the rest of the brood, briefly touring the North Myrtle Beach area for potential condos for the next vacation.

Friday

Cooler and overcast with a high around 80. We didn’t spend much (if any) time in the water that day. Instead we just sat out on the beach and enjoyed the sand and tidal pools. That night we walked back to Main Street for dinner at Giorgio’s. The sandwiches weren’t nearly as good as the pizza, but they were OK. We walked back to the OD Pavilion where the kids played arcade games and Sara traded in the tickets she’d won over the week for a valuable prize. Later Chris, the bride and I took another tour of Ocean Drive and took down condo names for our next trip to North Myrtle Beach. The bride and I were able to take a short walk on the beach. We came back and started packing up for the trip home.

Saturday

The Moffitts saw all week that it takes them less time to get ready in the mornings than it does the Stapletons. See, we have more females, so we take longer. See how that works? This was very evident Saturday morning. Though we seemed to have everything packed before they did, they still beat us by being ready before us.

We left the Condo World offices at 8:50 (they didn’t open until 9:00, so no confrontations upon check-out) and got back to Mom and Dad’s by 4:15 that afternoon. The drive back was very relaxing, with fewer traffic problems.

Sunday

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I guess that means I’m insane. I offered to stop at another outlet mall on the way home. I thought we’d be there for 30 minutes. Again, I must be insane.

The week was wonderful, just what I needed. It was good to get away and not have to deal normal everyday life for a few days. Not that my normal everyday life is all that bad.

One final thought – Meg gets her official drivers license today. If you’re on the road in Franklin and you see a silver Accord coupe, just do me and my insurance agent a favor and pull off to the side of the road…..

2 observations on the first day back after vacation.....

1. Time flies when you're on the beach; in the office, the clock seems to be frozen, and sometimes feels like it's moving in reverse.

2. Swim trunks are much more comfortable than dress pants.....

vacation recap - summary.....

Gonna' be a busy day. Monday. First day back in 10 days.

Let's see if my predictions from the 29th were correct:

10. Leave my watch on the nightstand - yep, it was off my arm within an hour after unloading the van.
9. Rest, relax, recharge - yep, pretty much.
8. Build a few sandcastles with the girls - yep, one or two; their best was one of Mike Wazowski.
7. Take a walk or two on the beach with the bride - only one, but it was nice.
6. Enjoy spending time with Chris and his family - of course.
5. Attempt to lose no more than 3 golf balls per hole - I mean - round - only played once, but just lost 2 balls
4. Completely ignore my e-mail from work - yep, right up until Saturday night.
3. Battle Kathy on a daily/hourly/minutely basis for control of the thermostat (act your age, Mrs. Moffitt, have a hot flash or two!) - actually wasn't necessary; more on the condo tomorrow, though.
2. Walk to the pavilion and have ice cream every night - only did it 3 times, but I ate plenty while I was there.
1. Unintentionally snort gallons of salt water up my nose every time I wipe out on my boogie board - yes, without question.

More tomorrow.....

top 10 things i plan to do on vacation.....

10. Leave my watch on the nightstand
9. Rest, relax, recharge
8. Build a few sandcastles with the girls
7. Take a walk or two on the beach with the bride
6. Enjoy spending time with Chris and his family
5. Attempt to lose no more than 3 golf balls per hole - I mean - round
4. Completely ignore my e-mail from work
3. Battle Kathy on a daily/hourly/minutely basis for control of the thermostat (act your age, Mrs. Moffitt, have a hot flash or two!)
2. Walk to the pavilion and have ice cream every night

And the #1 thing I plan to do on vacation:

Unintentionally snort gallons of salt water up my nose every time I wipe out on my boogie board

OFIT, out.....

thanks, shaun.....

I read a post from Shaun Groves' blog yesterday that really got to me. Shaun is a contemporary Christian artist, has been nominated for several Dove Awards, and goes to our church. And on top of that, he's a genuinely nice guy. We're by no means close (he probably couldn't pick me out of a lineup), but we have talked a few times over the past couple of years. He said that the strangest thing at church is that all the kids always call him "Shaun Groves" and never just "Shaun". I told him that's what my daughters did, and he told me to tell them to just come up to him and say, "hey, Shaun!"

Here's the post. If you can read this without welling up, put a mirror under you nose and see if you can fog it up. If it doesn't fog, you're not alive.

AFTER THE SHOW: LINCOLN, NEBRASKA

She looked to be about nine. Blonde hair. Cropped just below her earlobes. I took her hand.

"I'm Shaun, what's your name?"

She told me shyly, handed me a CD and asked me to sign it for her.

"Sure, I'd love to...Who are all these people with you?"

She introduced her three little brothers and her smiling aunt to me.

The oldest of the boys, a brown eyed seven year old, piped up as his name was said. "Today's my Dad's birthday."

"Really," I said. "Well, where's your dad?"

"In Heaven." And the smiles of the four siblings relaxed into straight lines.

"How long has he been there?" I regretted asking the moment the words fell out. I didn't know where this was going. There are only six basic directions an after-show conversation usually heads: autograph, how old are you, where you're from, where are you headed next, wife and kids, prayer request or other need. I've mastered them all. I'm a professional. A professional now stumped, now drawn out of the routine and into the life of this little boy. My dad's in Heaven never comes up.

"About a month and a half."

I handed the signed CD back to his big sister while their Aunt explained what had taken place in their family over the last six weeks. A stranger, a man, put his arm around her as she told us the tale. The line waiting to talk to me and have something signed, stood patiently, leaning in, eyebrows furrowed by shared pain. And eventually smiles returned - by the simple miracles of time passing and conversation.

"Thank you for making their dad's birthday a special celebration," the aunt said as we hugged good bye. "Love your kids," she whispered over her shoulder as they walked away.

And I'm reminded once again that your job, no matter how great you think it is, sucks compared to mine. I don't mean to ruin your day, but I get to do this every week. I play some chords, sing some words, and then the good stuff happens: I hang out with people. I hear the most amazing stories. I meet people who have been healed. I get hugged by little kids and told I'm loved by them. I have conversations with skaters, moms, stock brokers, painters and astronauts. I get prayed for and get to pray for people in tremendous pain and trouble. I listen to eight year olds tell corny jokes and I laugh. I get to feel, every night, like all that stuff about Christians being family because we believe in the same God is actually true.

And tonight I got to be the entertainment at a dad's very important birthday party in Lincoln, Nebraska thrown by his four kids. And just being together we all got a taste of the world he lives in.

I told you. My job is better than yours.

that's my story and i'm stickin' to it.....

Ronald Blankenship, a shoe repairman in Birmingham, Ala., finished second in June's Democratic primary for sheriff and was placed in a run-off, when the Birmingham News discovered details of an apparently shady past: faking his death in connection with an insurance policy, assault and passing bad checks. Blankenship's defense, a week later: It must be another Ronald Blankenship (even though "both" men have the same middle name and birth date and coincidentally are married to women with the same first, middle and maiden names).

Birmingham News, 6-13-06

one of the shortest parties you'll ever have.....

I realize this is going to sound morbid, but I look at the obituaries from my hometown newspaper on a weekly basis. Even though I don't know nearly as many people there as I used to, occasionally I'll see that someone I grew up with has died - a teacher, Sunday School teacher, classmate, etc.

I started looking at some of the names last week (the ones with nicknames like "Tater" and "Dood" always get me; I've asked the bride to include a name like that in my obituary when I die, just for fun) to see if I recognized any of them. Then I looked at the hours of visitation. It's usually for about 2 hours, with another hour for the service. That's 3 hours. And it's really not even 3 hours, because the visitation is more like an in-and-out kind of thing. If the line's not too long, the person visiting may only be there for 15-20 minutes. And alot of times, if you go to the visitation you may not go to the funeral service.

So I got to thinking about this whole thing. If funerals are supposed to be a celebration of someone's life, why are they so short? Think about birthday parties you may have gone to in the past. You're there for usually an hour or so, sometimes longer depending upon how good the food and company is.
Maybe there need to be funeral planners out there like they have party planners. They take care of the food, the guest list and all the amenities. Need someone to watch the kids while you visit with the dearly departed's family? Send them out back to play on the inflatible jumping castle. Just come from work and you're starving? Go through the carved meat line with your choice of roast beef or turkey, slap the meat on some sliced sourdough, add some spicy mustard and you're good to go. Got a story about the deceased? See the videographer and he'll record your amusing anecdote.

If you're reading this and you think I'm crazy (those of you who know me probably made that call years ago), just think about it again. Yes, there are circumstances when you wouldn't want a jumpy-thing out back for the kids. But there are times when you actually want to celebrate a person's life. And it's difficult to do much celebrating in 15-20 minutes.

Maybe I need to patent this idea.....

if i squint, i can see a small light.....

I started running again this week. According to the bride, I picked a bad week to start up again, because the temperatures have been in the low-to-mid-90's with plenty of humidity. (For some reason she won't let me leave to run until she can call our life insurance agent to make sure my policy is current.) Actually, I don't mind the heat. As long as I'm dressed for it, it's no big deal. And there's something about coming back from a long run or coming in from working in the yard and being all sweaty that makes me feel like I've accomplished something.

I'm just working on a mile right now. There's a point in the run when I start to give out, but then I spot a "marker" that lets me know I can make it. When I see that street sign about 1/10 of a mile from our driveway, I get a little spark and I run a little faster to the end.

Looking at the calendar/planner on my computer this morning, I spotted another kind of marker that put a little spring in my step. I got a call from someone about a lunch meeting next week and clicked over to check out what I had going on for the week. Then I saw it - next Thursday's my last day of work until the 10th of July. On the section of the screen for Friday was one my favorite words, and probably my favorite 8-letter word - vacation. I mean, it's not like I'd forgotten about vacation, it's just that seeing it gave me a good feeling and a sense of relief.

There it is, that small light at the end of the tunnel.....

honey, i love you, but we could use the money.....

Last year, in order to soften the transition from an agrarian economy, the rural village of Renhe, China, offered to give farmers apartments in town - one-bedroom flats for single people and two-bedroom units for married couples. But in a fit of greed, hundreds of couples promptly divorced for no other reason than to qualify for two apartments so that they could rent one out.

When officials learned of the scams, they modified the rules, according to a May dispatch in the Los Angeles Times, and turmoil resulted, as newly divorced couples failed to reconcile, leaving children in broken homes while husbands ran off with younger women.

Los Angeles Times, 5-8-06

I wonder what the bachelor pad of a former Chinese farmer looks like.....

yep, it's still alot like mayberry.....

Franklin is growing. In a recent survey done by the city, many residents thought that the growth was much too fast. Nissan is moving its US headquarters here over the next 12 months. Road construction is everywhere. Fiber optic lines are being installed all over the city. But with all that progress, the city still has a problem when it comes to replacing lights when they burn out.

A friend of mine who lives in the neighborhood behind ours said he noticed that several large street lights were out on a road near our houses. So he called department responsible for replacing/repairing street lights. The conversation went something like this:

Bob: "Yes, I was calling to talk with someone about having some street lights repaired on Center Point Lane."

City: "OK, now where is this located?"

Bob: "Alright, if you come down Royal Oaks and turn left onto Center Point, just after Home Depot."

City: "OK, um, let me get the map out. Let's see....."

(Silence for about 30 seconds)

Bob: "Hello?"

City: "Just a minute, sir, I'm trying to locate the street. OK, there it is. Now, which lights are out?"

Bob: "Well, there are about 5 of them, sort of random. They've been out for about 2 months now. Don't y'all have someone who checks on lights every now and then to make sure they're working?" (here it comes, get ready)

City: "Yes, sir, we do. But he gets off at 4:00 every afternoon, and since the lights don't come on until it gets dark, we really don't have any way to know that a light is out until someone like yourself calls to let us know."

Bob: (silence for a few seconds, attempting to stifle his laughter) "OK, so about these burned-out lights. Are they numbered or marked so that I could go by there, get the number off the pole, then call you with the numbers of the ones that need to be repaired?"

City: "(long sigh) Um, no, sir, I don't believe they are. Ummmmm, let's see, how can we do this? (another long sigh)"

Bob: "Tell you what, I'll go by there tonight and put some colored electrical tape on the poles of the lights that aren't working. Would that work?"

City: "(sounding hesitant, like the tape is going to cause a power outage) Well, I guess that would be alright. When will you be putting the tape on the poles?"

Bob: "Tonight, right after it gets dark."

City: "OK, we'll have someone out there in the next few days."

I'm happy to say that within 2 short weeks, we can now see our way to get to Home Depot when it's dark. And.....scene! Fade to gray, background music of guitar strumming, whistling and finger snapping.....

top 2 reasons i'm glad i'm a dad.....

This picture brings a tear to my eyes. To think that Meg had her arms around Sara's neck without actually choking her.....it's almost more than I can handle. And the fact that Sara sat still without turning around and kicking Meg.....again, I'm on the verge of tears.

For some reason, God has chosen to bless me with 2 healthy, beautiful daughters. And I'm extremely grateful everytime I hear them call me "Dad".....

when you have to eat words, seasoning helps.....

"Nobody told me tonight was going to be family night! Whenever I want to have a family night, y'all are either too tired or you want to watch a movie by yourselves!" These were words Meg would soon regret.

All of this started in motion Sunday afternoon, June 11, at around 4:00. I was asleep on the couch in the bonus room when the bride came into the room carrying my notebook computer. "Oh, were you asleep?" "Yes..." was my groggy reply. "You need to look at this." she said, pointing toward the notebook. It was a car she'd found on cars.com. "Honey, I'm not ready to look yet. Let's get back from vacation, then we'll start looking. Besides, she won't turn 16 for another 3 weeks." She was persistent. "OK, fine, I'll look." Looked like a good deal. "So, are you going to call?" I hesitated, but I gave in. I talked to a gentleman and decided to go look at the car at 4:30 Monday afternoon.

The bride and I met in a church parking lot a few miles from where we were to see the car. When we got to the house, we knew it was the car for Meg. They'd already had a dozen or so calls about it, with someone else coming to see it later on that afternoon. We took about a 45-minute test drive and decided to take it. When we got back to the house, the lady had received 6 more calls about the car. I said, "How about if we stop those calls for you? We'll take it." We arranged for a time to pick the car up on Tuesday.

I picked the bride up around 11:30 Tuesday morning and we went to pick the car up. We got it titled and then parked it at the bride's parents' house. The next evening I went there after work to wash and wax it, and to finish the detailing that the bride had started earlier in the day.

We had originally said we'd give her the car on Sunday, then moved it up to Thursday. However, we had a VBS thing at church on Thursday, so we bumped it to Friday. We thought we'd go out to dinner then drop by the in-laws' house and give her the car. One slight problem. The bride forgot to tell Meg about "Family Night". Meg had already made plans to hang out with friends at the mall then go to see a movie with them. So we said we'd compromise - go to eat, then we'd drop her off at the mall.

After dinner at Ci Ci's, we got in the van. The bride said, "Hey, let's run my Mom and Dad's." Meg was starting to panic. "We're not going to stay long, are we?" I told her that we'd be in and out, and that she'd have plenty of time to see her friends. She was frustrated, it was obvious. She and Sara picked at each other non-stop in the van, and this made it worse. Then we got "the speech" that I opened this post with. The bride was laughing now, and I worried that she'd give it away with her laugh. So I started laughing with her, and I said "Meg, do you remember when you were about 5, I told you that there would come a time when you'd rather hang out with friends than your own parents? Sounds like that time has come." I didn't have to look, I could feel her rolling her eyes.

We pulled up to the house, and there the car sat on the carport. "Honey, looks like your parents have company. We don't need to stay too long." So we went inside and I asked Ken whose car was on the carport. He said that someone had asked them if they could keep it there for a few days. Without her looking, I put the keys in my pocket and said, "Hey, Meg, let's go look at it." She reluctantly came out and commented that the car was cute. Then she looked in the driver's window and saw the sign that the bride had made for her in the seat that said "Happy 16th Birthday, Meg!" Meg put her hands to her mouth, started jumping up and down and screamed "Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh!!!!! Are you serious?????" I handed her the keys and said, "I think these are yours." She sat in the driver's seat and her eyes started welling up with tears.

Need another reason to prove that I'm getting to be an old man? My oldest daughter now has a car. 'Nuff said.....

ever feel like.....

Ever feel like things are going on around you that you're just not quite in sync with? Like maybe things happen around you and they just don't quite make sense?

I've been known to pull pranks or surprises on people, and that's alot of fun. (A good friend reminded me of one I did to him about 10 years ago. That's a very good story for another day.) But it's almost a little unsettling (can be good, can be bad) when someone does it to me. I've been accused of being able to dish it out but unable to take it. Fair statement. But it sure is alot better to be on the dishing out side.

For example, I have a friend who lost his job a few months ago. Looking back, he said he should have seen it coming. His boss went from being congenial towards him to almost ignoring him. He said one day his boss just quit coming by his office and joking around with him, and a week later he was told his job had been done away with. He sometimes wishes that he'd struck up some sort of alliance or accord with him, thinking that would have possibly saved his job. Accords can sometimes be nice and helpful.

Another example, a complete opposite, would be when my parents surpised me with a television on Christmas morning when I was 10. The night before they had me open a present, a pair of house shoes, and explained to me that things had been tight that particular year and this was the best surprise gift they could muster that year. The next morning there was a small television sitting under the tree with my name on it. Looking back that Christmas morning to the night before, I realized the house shoes were a set-up. A set-up, but a good one.

Here's hoping surprises that happen to you produce the good kind of shock rather than the bad kind.....

hand + cookie jar = suspension.....

RICHMOND, Va. Henrico County school officials have upheld an eighth-grader's one-day suspension for eating a stolen cookie.

Superintendent Fred Morton IV says he can't discuss specifics of the case because of student privacy laws ... but he says there's more to it than just eating someone else's cookie.

Caryl Maitland says her son, Jeremy, told school officials that someone knocked over a cookie jar in the Hungary Creek Middle School kitchen and he ate one of the cookies as he picked them up. She says the family received a letter from the assistant principal telling them the cookies were a staff member's personal food. Jeremy was disciplined under the school's theft code.

The boy's mother says she believes he should be punished ... but that suspension is going too far.

Good thing he didn't drink any milk with that cookie. Sounds like he could have been wearing an orange jumpsuit and picking up garbage on the side of the road if he had.....

and, one for the road.....

A semicircle of about 100 formed around Jim Werych as he got down on all fours in the middle of Lisbon Road, stopping traffic in both directions.

A robot groundhog danced at his side as Werych stared at the pavement, the flowing black locks of his wig resting on the ground.

Then he licked.

He dragged his tongue across the tire-stained asphalt, leaving a streak of saliva a good six-inches long on Lisbon Road.

Calling it a lick doesn't even really do it justice.

This was like a starving dog lapping up the last crumbs of food from an empty bowl.

Amid the gasping, groaning audience, Werych stood up and declared his annual proclamation.

"Hear ye, hear ye: Bring 'em out boys. This street is cleansed!"

And with that, the sixth season of Wednesday Night Classics was officially under way.

Werych's ceremonial stomach-turning antics served a purpose, sort of.

He was purportedly checking to confirm that the local roads were free of winter salt, making the thoroughfares once again safe for rust-sensitive classic cars.

uh, sir, your cell phone is ringing.....

A sure sign of aging is when you have cool ring tones on your cell phone but you can't use them because you can no longer hear them. I've got some great Billy Joel ring tones on my phone, but I can't use them any more because I can't hear them as well as the other ring tones that came with my phone. So instead of hearing "River of Dreams" whenever someone calls me, I now hear "Tone 4" (plus vibrate, for good measure) which sounds a little like La Cucaracha. If there happen to be teenagers around when my phone rings, they look at me like I'm 112 years old because my phone isn't singing "My humps, my humps."

I read in an article today that now teenagers are downloading ring tones that adults can't hear. Students can then receive text messages while in class and the notification ring tone for the incoming message goes undetected by adult ears.

According to the article, as people age many develop what's known as aging ear - a loss of the ability to hear higher-frequency sounds. I think that may have happened to me already.

The ring tone is a spin-off of technology that was originally meant to repel teenagers - not help them. A Welsh security company developed the tone to help shopkeepers disperse young people loitering in front of their stores while leaving adults unaffected. The company called their product the "Mosquito."

A teacher in Manhattan says a colleague played the ring for a classroom of first-graders - and all of them could hear it, while the adults couldn't hear anything.

As if it wasn't difficult enough to keep up with kids, now they're using stealth technology on their phones.....

top 5 chick flicks that I actually like.....

We watched “Miss Congeniality” over the Memorial Day weekend. I’ve used the line “You want to kiss me, you want to hug me” several times on the bride over the past couple of weeks whenever I’m good and sweaty from working in the yard or after a softball game.

So I’m sitting there watching and enjoying “MG” when it hits me – this is a chick flick, and I actually like it! (The guy I coach softball with said that he did one of our game’s line-ups while pretending to watch “Must Love Dogs” with his wife.) Is there something wrong with me? Should I question my masculinity? I immediately curled up into a fetal position and wept openly. (OK, I made that last part up, but it seemed to fit so I went with it.)

Later I started thinking about other chick flicks that I like. Here’s my top 5:

5. Elizabethtown – Excellent movie, excellent soundtrack. Small southern town life at its best.

4. Father of the Bride - Love is wonderful. Until it happens to your only daughter."I used to think a wedding was a simple affair. Boy and girl meet, they fall in love, he buys a ring, she buys a dress, they say I do. I was wrong. That's getting married. A wedding is an entirely different proposition. I know. I've just been through one. Not my own, my daughter's."

3. Miss Congeniality – Who wouldn’t like Sandra Bullock in this movie? She’s an attractive tough girl who turns into a beauty queen while maintaining her edge. Michael Caine plays a great role.

2. Bull Durham – Yeah, I know, it’s a baseball movie. But Susan Sarandon’s in it, so it’s a chick flick my default just because she’s in it. Best part of the movie is the scene where they try to decide if candlesticks are an appropriate wedding gift while on the mound.

1. Jerry Maguire – Granted, Tom Cruise is now officially a nut case. However, in 1996 he seemed normal. Cuba Gooding Jr. stole the movie with his portrayal of the character Rod Tidwell.

OK, that’s enough of that. Think I’ll watch "Die Hard" a couple of times tonight to sort of cleanse the palate….

what an addiction.....

I overheard a lady say this the other day:

“I am soooo addicted to Avon deodorant. I’ve tried to go back to my other deodorant, but I just can’t give up my Avon.”

I keep imagining her hunched over in the corner of a dimly lit room with the ball of the deodorant container wedged half-way up her nose saying things like, “Don’t judge me! You think you’re better than me? Well, you’re not! Now get out of here!!!!!”

MedicineNet.com defines addiction as follows:

Every addictive substance induces pleasant states or relieves distress. Continued use of the addictive substance induces adaptive changes in the brain that lead to tolerance, physical dependence, uncontrollable craving and, all too often, relapse. Dependence is at such a point that stopping is very difficult and causes severe physical and mental reactions from withdrawal. The risk of addiction is in part inherited. Genetic factors, for example, account for about 40% of the risk of alcoholism. The genetic factors predisposing to addiction are not yet fully understood.

So there’s a chance that someone in this lady’s family was addicted to Avon deodorant in the past. Maybe she didn’t first buy it during recess from a shady Avon lady hanging around the elementary school playground. Perhaps she was genetically predisposed. Or maybe the Avon deodorant simply induces a pleasant state or relieves stress for her. We may never know the reason for this poor woman’s addiction.

So if you’re reading this and you work for Avon, just know that your deodorant has another person on the hook. I hope you can sleep at night…..

when really good isn't good enough.....

I had the opportunity to play in the 103 WKDF Cystic Fibrosys tournament yesterday. It was a beautiful day, the weather couldn't have been better. While none of us on our team would ever be considered "A" golfers, we played respectable. We got on a roll and made 5 birdies in a row at one point.

On our 11th hole of the day, #3 of the Governer's Retreat at Hermitage, I stepped up to hit first. I think it was playing about 137, so I hit an 8 iron. As soon as I hit it, I thought it was going to be close. When it landed, it looked like it was about 2-3 feet from the pin, but it's sometimes hard to tell from the tee. Sometimes it'll look like you're right on the flag stick, then you get to the green and you're 12 feet away. So I didn't get excited, I was just pleased to be pretty close. As we drove up, one of my partners let out an "OH, YEAH!" I walked over and saw my ball sitting about 8-10 inches from the cup. I signed the card on the marker (closest to the pin on this hole was supposed to win something) and saw that I had gotten it closer than 2 other guys. And one of those guys was Craig Hentrich, the punter for the Titans. So I've got that goin' for me. One of my partners said, "Man, you've got this one. NOBODY'S going to put one closer!"

About three holes later, we heard a group celebrating a few holes back. That happens alot during a scramble, guys cheering for a good eagle or birdie putt. I didn't think much about it. We're in the fairway on the next hole, and a guy from our group gets a phone call. I hear him say, "You're kidding me!" Turns out the cheering was for a hole-in-one on #3. One of the guys in our extended group (there were three groups of 4) thought he hit it pretty close, but didn't know just how close until they walked up on the green and saw the ball in the cup.

It just goes to show you that no matter how well you might do, there's always someone better out there. But that's OK with me. I'm getting closer to that hole-in-one all the time.....

not quite the fairy tale ending we had hoped for…..

I’ve heard it said that the worst thing to happen to kids sports is the parents. That point was proven last night.

Sara’s team was one game from the Williamson county championship. Jeff and I had a great time coaching them this year, and the girls had come a long way. No one expected us to win a single tournament game this year, and we had won 4 going into last night’s game. The girls were excited and ready to play.

Things were going fine, and then the coach from the other team complained about our pitcher’s delivery. What made it so bad was that he stood in front of our pitcher while he complained to the umpire. This scared our pitcher so bad that she started crying, and she never recovered.

We’d played about 20 games this season before last night’s game, and this had never been an issue. So she had to completely change her mechanics in about 3 minutes. Ridiculous. I went to the “head guy” of the tournament and couldn’t get any help. He chickened out, I mean, took the easy way out, I mean, deferred judgment, saying it was up to the umpire in charge.

Ultimately, the blame goes to the umpire in charge. He gave in to a bully rather than do his job. I asked the home plate umpire if they were going to call the game or if they were going to let the other coach take charge. He smiled, gave me a look like “Hey, it’s not up to me. If it was, this wouldn’t be happening.”

Parents were upset, with emotions ranging from sad to angry. Tears were shed, by both moms and the girls. I told them that they had nothing to be ashamed of, that in life there would be people who tried to change the rules in the middle of a game and take advantage of the situation. But they acted like young ladies, and for that I was very proud of the way they handled it.

It’s not so much what other people do to you, but rather how you handle it. And last night our girls passed the test…..

pgd.....

Our junior high football coach, Coach Walling, used to use the letters "PGD" before games and pep rallies. "PGD" stands for "Pride, Guts and Determination." While that was almost 30 years ago, I still remember it and I've found over the years that PGD doesn't just apply to football or sports. PGD can be used in everything you do in life. Last night, I saw a little PGD in both Meg and Sara. OK, it was during their softball games, so it does apply to sports in this instance.

Meg's team has been pretty up and down all season long. One minute they're making a great play, the next minute they're doing handstands in the outfield between pitches. The parents/spectators never quite knew which team would show up. Their season ended last night with a 15-5 loss against girls who were obviously on steroids. (Test results are pending.) But there were a few of the girls who didn't give up. They gave 100% every game, regardless of how bad they were getting beat. That's what leaders do, and Meg was one of their leaders. Leaders take pride in what they're doing, they've got the guts to play hard, and they have the determination to keep on going even when it ain't exactly fun.

Going into the playoffs, we weren't sure if Sara's team would win even one game. Alot of the girls seemed to have had their minds on something else as the regular season came to a close. But something happened in the first game of the tournament. They found out that they could win, and now we're 4-1. Another win and we play for the county championship. (I originally thought if we won last night that we'd be in the championship, but I found out last night that we've got one more team to beat in order to get there.) Anyway, leaders come through in the clutch. Last night in the bottom of the 4th, bases loaded and 2 outs, Sara came to the plate. She'd been walked both times in the 1st and 2nd innings, and she was dying to get a pitch to hit. We were up 4-2 and the time limit was coming up. With a 2-2 count, she came through with a grand slam making the score 8-2. We ended up winning 8-4.

I doubt that either daughter will remember last night's games 20 years from now. But they're both learning things now that are forming their lives. Pride in a job well done; guts to persevere; and determination to finish the task.....

not so fast, my friend.....

Softball tournaments started this past weekend for the girls. To be very honest with you, I didn't expect either team to win a game. Both teams have some talent, but it seems that with summer here neither team has seemed to have it together. It's like all of the girls (well, most of the girls) have their minds elsewhere.

Friday night's games were rained out, so they had to do some juggling and fit all those games into Saturday. It was not exactly smooth. Meg's coach told us Friday night that we'd be playing Saturday morning at 9:00. I help coach Sara's team with another guy, and we didn't know about our game until 9:30 Saturday morning. One of the teams in our league had their game rescheduled but they weren't informed about it, so they ended up having to take a forfeit because they didn't show up for the game. Let's just say that their coach was less than pleased with our league commissioner. But there was alot of that going around this weekend in our league.

It's now two days later, and Meg's team is 2-1 and Sara's team is 3-1. They're both in the semi-finals tonight, and a win sends them into the championship game. Sara's team played two games on both Saturday and Sunday and Meg's team played one game Saturday and two yesterday. By the end of both days, I smelled like a dirty sweat sock that had been left in a duffle bag for 2 months in the trunk of a car over an Arizona summer.

The weather was perfect over the weekend. The sky was clear and crisp on Saturday, and just a little overcast on Sunday.

Good luck to Focus Financial Group and the Luna Constuction Lunatics.....

bet this guy's wife didn't ask about his day.....

Man injured after truck strikes portable toilet

Nature called at an unfortunate moment for a construction worker in Oak Point on Thursday.

While working on a new subdivision in the small Denton County town just south of Highway 380, the unnamed man ducked into a portable toilet outside a home under construction along Niles Court.

Within moments, the wide load of a tractor trailer turning onto Niles from Woodridge Drive struck the portable toilet and knocked it over.

The victim was taken to Denton Regional Medical Center, but his name and the extent of his injuries have not been released. The portable toilet sustained moderate damage.

Police said they don’t anticipate filing any charges against the driver of the tractor trailer.

Whew! At least they gave us info on the damage to the toilet.....

a day of special occasions.....

Yes, it's a big day around our house, in our family and in the state of Tennessee:

1. Today, Meg says goodbye to a close friend - her braces! That's right, just 3 1/2 years after Meg and her braces first met, Dr. Kemp will be severing the relationship.

2. Hattie also says goodbye to a friend of hers today - her cast! At least, she hopes that's what will happen. Best case scenario, she gets a walking boot. She doesn't want to think about any other possibilities. And neither does her butler, Ken.

3. The great state of Tennessee came into existence 210 years ago today. If you've never visited our wonderful state, you need to do so. The scenery is beautiful. It's one of the prettiest places I've ever been, and I'm proud to have called it my home for the past 41+ years.

So Happy Braces Removal Day, Cast Removal Day, and 210th Birthday.....