Twas the Night Before Christmas...

Being a proud disciple of Captain Obvious, I should first point out the irony of reading a "Twas the Night Before Christmas" post when it's currently 3 days after Christmas. This only seems odd to those who are either visiting my blog for the first time, or those who haven't been paying attention over the past year. As always I have an excuse. I'll pause a moment to allow the shock to subside... Please, stop snickering, it breaks my concentration... Fine, I'll continue. I received some new video editing software for Christmas. While it is much more powerful than Windows Movie Maker that I've been using the past year, and it should allow me to try new things and make better videos, it also has been very temperamental. Causing me much frustration since it's installation. Between random crashes, corrupted files and lost work, I almost gave up. Finally I was able to keep the program running long enough to complete the movie included in this post.

"Just the Facts Ma'am"

Just a quick (well, that's the idea as of right now) post covering Thanksgiving. I figured this was the only way to ensure getting some pictures and quick commentary up about our Thanksgiving before Christmas is upon us. This post will be without fanfare, bells, whistles or snazzy high dollar production value. Okay, maybe that is a bit much, but humor me. Let's just say this is mostly a pictorial with just a bit of commentary. My homage to Joe Friday "Just the facts ma'am."

We were unable to make it out to Kansas City again this Thanksgiving (hopefully we will make it next year, fingers crossed that the housing market turns around and everything else goes well). However, we were graciously invited to spend Thanksgiving with family up in Panama City.

Whatchagot Stew

Well, it's Thanksgiving week. I can't believe how fast time is slipping by. You know all those things people say when you're growing up that you just never believe? Every day I'm finding out more and more of those phrases are true. If only I could turn back time and pay heed to all the advice people gave...

"Enjoy Growing Up, It's The Best Years of Your Life!"

You know, looking back I dreaded that part of my life. But now I think of how great it could have been. If I only knew then what I know now I would have attempted to make so much more of it. Not only the social aspects, in which I utterly avoided. The actual time to just learn and explore interests without worry of money, work and bills. Growing up did include a lot of work. Looking around at other kids I realize that comparatively yes, it was a lot of work, but that taught me many valuable things that has served me well to this day. Heck the way things are going in the world, I may end up needing to rely on knowing how to "rough it". Many people I see out there would be at a complete loss. Anyway, even with that said there was plenty of time to enjoy and just be a kid. I took so little advantage of that time I should be put on trial, because it's gotta be a crime. To think of the free time I had to just practice on my golf game. I frittered so much of that time away. I could have played just half as much and still played 10 times more than I do now, and still I would have had to practice a couple hours a day.

Surfer Girl

Here I sit, once again, staring at a blank screen. It seems to be a reoccurring theme lately. There is "news to report" but I struggle to find a starting point in which to transfer the thoughts in my head into a form more accessible to someone other than myself. My left brain tells me to just post the information and corresponding media, be done with it, and continue with other activities. My right brain says "Hogwash, I'm not going to let you off that easy. You WILL sit here and present the information in a somewhat creative way." Being a southpaw, and therefore held hostage by my right brain, I'm forced to surrender to it's whims. With that being said I will attempt to fulfill my obligation, but would like to make clear I am currently treating my brain as a hostile witness.








A couple of weeks ago... okay that's a lie. Way back over Labor Day weekend we decided to take Taylor for her first trip to the beach. Okay, that's another lie. She had been to the beach one time before while visiting family in Panama City but she was still immobile, basically akin to a piece of luggage. Albeit a very precious and cute piece of luggage. But, this was her first trip where she could be an active participant. Anyway, we packed up the vehicle and headed over to Crescent Beach for the afternoon. It's a nice, lightly populated beach just south of St. Augustine. A great place to avoid the crowds and just enjoy the ocean.



The first thing she noticed was an incredible number of shells to pick up. Now you have to understand that Taylor has yet to meet an item that she hasn't wanted to collect. We've begun to call her the Roomba. I can thoroughly sweep the floors and she will still find every little speck, no matter how minute and either hand it to us, or put in her mouth. Every time we take her outside she comes back with a handful of rocks or hickory nuts. Upon seeing all the shell fragments on the ground you'd think she'd stumbled upon Blackbeard's treasure. After the long trek eastward, stopping intermittently to pick up a prized piece colored calcium, we finally reached the waters edge. Her first reaction to the water was curiosity. The second reaction was confusion as each receding wave washed the sand out from under her feet. She was suddenly reluctant to move as her feet sank. Linda and I took turns holding her hands as she stood in the edge of the surf. On this trip she never graduated to actually walking in the water herself, but she did spend some time walking along the waters edge. She saw some bikes which completely enthralled her and saw a few other children whom she wanted to befriend. All in all it was a very enjoyable day and we are looking forward to our next trip when I'm sure she will graduate to actually playing in the water.

As expected, we took a few pictures and I shot around 30 minutes of video. We all know how tedious home movies can be, especially if they are long enough to require an intermission for bathroom breaks and snacks. With that in mind, I pared down the footage to around 5 minutes and put together a short synopsis of our afternoon. I hope you enjoy.



Here is a photo album of a few selected photographs.

Crescent Beach Photos (well Taylor photos taken at the Beach)

My favorite of the photos is the first one, an action shot where I captured Taylor in mid fall.

Taylor's Big Day

What is this stuff on my face? Oh, it's egg. For those who visited "Not Too Bad..." after receiving an email around 8:30 Saturday night, you may know what this is about. For the sake of those who didn't visit until after Saturday night, let me do a brief recap. I published a post last night with some material that I just wasn't satisfied with. I mentioned how I hadn't come to a firm conclusion of my opinion, but published anyway. Well, I came to a firm conclusion approximately 10 minutes after sending the notification email. In this digital age there is no way to cry "Stop the presses!". So, I will utilize the internet to it's fullest power. I will re-write history, and delete the evidence!.

So, basically there is no new material produced for this post from the one last night (other than some additional writing), it's just presented in a different manner.

For those who saw the page last night. I hope you'll find these changes drastic enough to make reading again worthwhile. The previous effort kind of made me think of a peanut-butter & tomato sandwich. The ingredients themselves are quite good, but when you try to make a sandwich out of them, it just... doesn't work.

For those who are didn't see anything last night. "What are you talking about?"


THE PEANUT BUTTER

"The Kindle of an Idea..."

A few months ago I had an idea. I imagined compiling the video and photographs I'd collected during Taylor's first year and produce a "year in review" movie for her birthday. I have hours and hours of raw video footage and hundreds of photographs. I've captured such milestones as first bath, sitting up, first meal, turning over, laughing, crawling and first steps. I've chronicled swings and swimming pools, play time and nap time. All the ingredients one requires for an in depth, entertaining overview of how Taylor spent her first year.

"The Application of the Wet Blanket..."

Oh, I'm sorry... you weren't believing I actually completed this task. Were you? I didn't mean to mislead. Just reflecting on an idea I had. I have a lot of them, most end up in the "cold files" department. For now, in what I like to call the realism world, I just settled for producing a "day in review" movie for her birthday. It only took me 1 week to find the time for such an endeavor. One week to chronicle 1 day... the way I see it that gives me about 7 years to complete my "year in review" project. I'm not sure I'll be able to meet that deadline. Maybe someday, when I'm retired, and Taylor is off and settled on her own, I may actually see the fulfillment of these grander visions. Like my "9 holes at Turkey Creek". A project I've been working on for over a year now. (I think I'm at hole 4 if I recall correctly). But that's an entirely different subject.

"The Compromise..."

We woke up on the 2nd and got Taylor up and dressed. After breakfast we gave her our present, an activity cube. She enjoyed exploring all the moving parts and colorful pieces. I can see how it will provide multiple years of entertainment and learning. After a short play time Taylor went down for a nap. Linda started to decorate the house with the help of a friend from work. Having completed my decorating contribution the night before (blowing up balloons), I headed out to mow the yard and make the exterior presentable. Upon completion I entered a wonderfully decorated house just in time to quickly shower before guests were set to arrive.

Taylor woke from her nap to find her world completely transformed. There were decorations and people everywhere. Well, may around a dozen people, but she had never seen so many people in our house. You could tell she wasn't quite sure what to make of everything. In situations such as this she get's very quiet and observational. Perhaps she gets that trait from me? There was some short visiting, the ritual passing of the baby, and then the party started.

This is where I will let the movie take over the story telling.





I hope you enjoyed a quick overview of Taylor's special day. Hopefully someday Taylor will watch these movies, enjoy them, and understand the emotion in which they were created.

Special thanks to Nate for handling the video duties during the party, and for the unwitting voice actors who I'm afraid will receive absolutely no compensation for their contribution.


THE TOMATO

"2 A.T. - Day 1"

After posting the last movie "Crossing A Threshold" there was a great amount of positive feedback. Something for which I was very grateful. A couple of people asked me how I made the movies, what the process was. I tried to explain, but probably didn't do a very good job. Since it's relevant to the current post, I'll try again.

The first thing I do is look over all the raw footage I have at my disposal. Of course I knew I wanted to make something for Taylor's birthday so I was sure to take plenty of pictures. I also enlisted Nate to help by shooting some video during the party.

Once I set aside everything that catches my eye, I start listening to music... lot's of music. I find a dozen or so different songs that seemed to be the right mood for the pictures and video. Then I listen to them again, most of them I drop from consideration. Ultimately I will come up with different ideas during this time. A few fizzle, but some take shape until they I like what I see. The following was made from footage taken the day after Taylor's birthday. She's playing with her toys and enjoying some birthday cake in a more civilized manner.

Hope you enjoy.





THE BREAD

"The Perpetual Apology..."

At the risk of sounding like a broken record. I'd like to again apologize for such a long delay between postings. It's not from lack of material. I have quite a few ideas, many of them much more attainable than my more massive cold files inhabitants. There just seems to be so much to do and the day, weeks... hell the months are flying by. Linda and Taylor will be in KC for a few more days. Perhaps I will try to dig through the cold files and knock a couple out. Maybe I will tackle the epic 6 hour round of golf I had a last Saturday. Any round of golf that includes the passage "after the cops were called" has to make for an interesting story.

Shoots, Crops and Edits...

Several weekends ago we decided it was time to take some pictures in Taylor's Baptism dress while it still fit her. We again (see Easter pictures) ventured across the street to our neighbors house. I've really begun to appreciate the virtual outdoor photo studio her gardening hobby provides. Taylor did great even though it was very warm and I just know that dress had to be uncomfortable. Here is a selection of photos from the afternoon.

Baptism Dress

In an attempt keep up the evolution (and hopeful improvement) of my small corner of the internet, I'd like to unveil a new feature of "Not Too Bad..." I'm not sure if this feature is really required, but we'll give it a shot and see if anyone wants to keep it. What I've done is crop some print and frame (4x6) ready photos from the above album. There are portrait and landscape versions. I also included another photo from the day that I really liked. (we took a few extra pictures that same day) These are basically for those who have pictures of Taylor and would like something more up to date. Obviously the target market for this feature is pretty small, but hopefully it fills that niche.

4x6 Frame Ready Pictures

Directors Re-cut: There was a very positive response from the short movie I posted earlier. For that I say "Thank you." With influence, I've decided to share it with a broader audience. My nature wouldn't allow me to undertake such an endeavor without first sanitizing the film for mass distribution. There are only a couple of revisions but I do think the movie works better in it's new incarnation. Basically all I did was remove the "Not Too Bad..." reference and edited the final song. I took out the photos that I was uncomfortable with random strangers seeing and added some others. Also the timing and order of the photos were reworked to fit the music better. Nothing earth shattering, but if you're interested the final product is below.

Crossing A Threshold

"Not Too Bad..." has been an opportunity for me to get in touch with quite a few people with whom I'd lost contact with. It has also served as a creative outlet, and a place where I can express thoughts that under normal circumstances never make it past my verbal filter.

Today it serves as a platform to show a short movie I put together. I hope you enjoy "Crossing A Threshold".



Last week we got a little pool for Taylor to play in. At first I was planning to create some sort of creative packaging to release the pictures. A week has passed and the creative iron is still lukewarm. So.... I'm going to sneak them into this post to make my life easier, while fulfilling a promise to publish the pictures in a timely manner. Here are the pictures, sans fanfare.

Pool Party Gallery

A Mother's Day Wish

Just wanted make a quick appreciation thread on this Mother's Day.






To my Mother Sandy. I never got a chance to know you. I never appreciated what you gave me during the time you knew me. I've thought about both of those things more times in the last year then I ever have. I've come to appreciate everything you meant to me in my first year of this now almost 39 year voyage. I've wondered how I would be different if you had been able to spend more time with me. I've also grown in my appreciation of what Dad had to replace after you were gone. I can't imagine what I would do if I was put in that same situation with my wife and Taylor. I just want to say "Thank you."

And that brings me to my wife, Linda






To Linda. Watching you this past year has really been very special. It's amazing how close you are with Taylor. How much she looks to you for everything. I know she loves her Daddy, but her Mommy is on a whole different level. I truly mean that as a sincere compliment. I joke often (to your dismay) how Taylor wants her Mommy when Daddy just can't seem to make her happy. Take that as my everyday recognition or noticing how much you do for Taylor. I can only hope to become as close. Thank you for showing me what it means to be a Mother. Thank you for taking care of me when I refuse to take care of myself. I know I can be stubborn (as I've proven with my medical health track record.) Thank you for continuing on with everything my Dad taught me about life and giving it that woman's touch. Thank you for nurturing our Daughter in ways I'm unable to. Thank you for teaching me to become closer so that one day I will hopefully exhibit that same nurturing nature.





To Linda's Mother. Thank you everything you've done in raising Linda. You did a spectacular job and ultimately taught her how to raise Taylor in such a wonderful way. You've acted as a Mother to me even though I know I'm not the easiest person to get close to. I can't promise I'll soon be the most emotionally open person, but I do promise that I appreciate everything you do.


To all the Mothers out there, at least the good ones. And I'm sure all that are reading this blog fall under that category. Happy Mother's Day, I hope you day was much better then "Not Too Bad..."

Pictures of Mom

Pictures of Taylor's Mom

The History Channel Presents...

Merriam Webster defines procrastination as;

Function: verb

Etymology:

Latin procrastinatus, past participle of procrastinare, from pro- forward + crastinus of tomorrow, from cras tomorrow

Date: 1588

transitive verb : to put off intentionally and habitually
intransitive verb : to put off intentionally the doing of something that should be done

For some reason when I look at my dictionary the definition is a bit more basic. It basically goes something like this...

Procrastinator; see also Mirror.

Ignoring the obvious sarcastic nature of my dictionary, I can't really argue with it's insight. It's been over a month since I last made an entry in this locale. I wish it could be said my absence was due to a month long walkabout and I've returned with numerous harrowing tales of excitement and intrigue.

As in most cases the truth is much less interesting. While I think a lack of interesting posting topics is one tooth in the gear that causes me to disappear for these stretches of time. Other teeth include; lack of inspiration, bouts with feeling depressed and therefore not doing much of anything, being overloaded with work (this is a current problem, although one I'm definitely not going to complain about), among a plethora of other reasons. Being honest with myself, when all the chaff is removed we're just left with a bunch of excuses.

What really happens is I have a hard time just making a simple "keep everyone up to date" post. So I wait to be inspired to sit down and write, and I wait... and wait. Before long there are so many pictures and little things to talk about that I start feeling overwhelmed and unable to find a starting spot. It's not that I don't want to compose these posts, they're actually very therapeutic. I guess the best way to describe the feeling I'm attempting to convey would be akin to finding the starting point on a roll of scotch tape, but you're wearing mittens. Once you get it started, it's really not difficult to pull off the tape, it's the getting started that I have problems with.

That being said. I'm going to try to quickly get you caught up with the past months activities. I'll attempt to keep the words to a minimum and just provide some media to chronicle the events...

Taylor got her first Easter basket filled complete with books, bubbles, bunnies and shoes. We took some pictures in the neighbors back yard since I didn't think weeds and dirt would make a good backdrop, or comfortable sitting area for Taylor.

Easter Pictures

Linda's parents came to visit April 15th to the 22nd. It was a very nice visit enjoyed by everyone. It was nice to see Taylor interact with them being a little more aware of her surroundings then their last visit.

Andy and Beth drove over from Panama City for the weekend to attend Taylor's Baptism. We fit some bike riding and golfing in on Saturday and they had to leave on Sunday after church to get back for work. All the visits were too short, but it was nice to have some family around for a short while.

Family Visit and Baptism Pictures

Thanks to Nate for taking video of the baptism for us:



Here are a selection of other pictures taken since the last installment of this blog. As with all pictures there are stories behind them. In the interest of brevity I will save everyone the commentary let them speak for themselves.

Taylor Pictures

That should bring everything pretty much up to date on whats been happening around here lately. On a side note, I've not forgotten the results of the last poll. I will get around to making an entry on Dog sledding in the near future. Don't give up on me... I still hope to make this an interesting place to visit.

TNN Update

Taylor News Network (TNN) has noticed recent activity on this blog has become very Tomcentric. We scroll down and see nothing but words; this will not stand. We would like to apologize to the segment of our audience that has been patiently awaiting an update from the Star of this show, the incomparable Miss Taylor Sandra. Without further ado...

TNN would like to welcome you to this edition of "Taylor News Update" :

"Simple Pleasures..."

One of the times when Taylor is in her best moods is just after she gets home, but before getting unbuckled from her car seat. We tried to catch a bit of her antics. It's often difficult because she is enamored with the media hounds. I'm not sure if she has inherited her fathers camera shy gene, or if she is just trying to figure out how to play to the camera. More on this story as details develop.



"You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here..."

Taylor was spotted out at the club spinning her favorite tunes. We tried to get some video footage for this report. Unfortunately she spotted our camera's and decided the show was over. The crowd gathered at the Saucer Command Center asked for an Encore but Miss Taylor rules with a fist of iron, and she said "Show over." We, still love her. We understand even the biggest celebrities can't be on stage all the time.




"Medium Rare Please..."

It looks as if she may share her fathers love of a good steak. As proven by this footage, caught at her favorite steak house, located at the Saucer Command Center.



Finally, we would like to offer a sampling of what our esteemed photography crew has been able to capture in recent weeks. Your senior staff editor makes a cameo appearance in this batch. There's a story behind the gorilla. Remind me to tell it one day.

Taylor Photos

A Good Day

Disclaimer: None of the pictures posted in this article correlate to anything actually being discussed. Unfortunately I didn't have a camera with me. They are past pictures I've taken out on golf courses through my life, purely there to break up the seemingly endless verbiage.

Today was a good day... Well, technically I'm talking about this past Saturday, but that wouldn't provide the entry into this installment I was shooting for. Sometimes one needs to take artistic license in order to convey the desired sentiment. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" has a certain ring that "Things were pretty good, but also pretty bad" lacks. We can't really assume that things had never been better or worse, we go with the flow. I'm not trying to be so bold as to compare "Not Too Bad..." with the work of Dickens, just trying to explain why I launched this story with a flat out lie. Now that my conscience is placated let me start over.

Today was a good day. It actually started on Thursday when I called someone I know through work and asked if they wanted to get together for a round of golf. While that action may seem innocuous enough to the average citizen, in my world the event marks a bold exploration into a brave new world. I've never been skydiving but I could assume feeling the same degree of trepidation between making that phone call and flinging myself out of a plane. That comparison might seem a bit dramatic at first glance. My rational mind would tend to agree with that sentiment, but I've become accustomed to reserving my rational mind for reviewing past experiences (although this is a new found ability). As of this writing I'm still most comfortable allowing my irrational mind and fears rule my current actions. I really don't wish to belabor this point, but I feel I must accurately portray it's importance in order to convey to magnitude of this accomplishment. After making the phone call, I wiped the perspiration from my hands and called Linda at work to tell her what I had done. Her response? "I am so proud of you." It only took 13 years residing in this area, but I had finally initiated contact with someone for a purely social activity. This wasn't a safe mutual friend that I knew from my proximity to Linda. I wasn't tandem skydiving anymore, this was a solo jump.

After a quick inventory of my extremities provided conformation that I hadn't been sucked into the engine and avoided any other potential hazards, I went back to work feeling much satisfaction from my achievement. On Friday night I cleaned my clubs, made sure my Skycaddie was charged, and organized my golf bag. Everything was set in preparation of the big day. Hmm, on second thought, I haven't played but twice since Thanksgiving... better add a couple more balls into the bag. (I wouldn't survive embarrassment of running out of golf balls. I'm not sure insurance pays coverage for "Death by Embarrassment"; I couldn't risk leaving Linda a true golf widow.) There, now everything was ready.

Saturday morning,  the weather is a nice as could be. Temperature is supposed to reach 78, and it's that nice winter weather without the humidity. Days like today are what earn Florida the moniker "The Sunshine State". Reminds me of a nice early summer day in Minnesota growing up. After the cold weather we've been having lately, it's a special treat. I arrive at the Ironwood (municipal course here in town) parking lot around 10:30, a full hour before our 11:30 tee time. I want to have some time to warm up, chip and putt for a little bit. There will be no hurriedly tying of golf shoes on the first tee today. No trying to squeeze in a few practice swings on the first tee in a feeble attempt to limber up. 

I had called Jason, whom I know through his work with one of my clients, when I left the house to let him know I was headed to the course. I think he shared my excited anticipation for our outing, having not played since falling off a roof and breaking his leg over a year ago. So I wasn't surprised to see him in the parking lot as I drove up. I was surprised to see he had someone with him...  What was that!?

A bit of turbulence buffets my body, momentarily knocking me off course. I quickly adjust to steady my decent. I recover smoothly... I've been golfing all of my conscious life, and we're in my comfort zone right now. He introduces his friend as Mike he seems like a nice enough guy. Someone I would have described as an older gentleman if I were living this day 10 years ago. Now, being 40 myself, I'm not so quick to utilize the word older.  I'd peg him somewhere closer my senior then Jason is my junior.  

Jason and I had talked a little about golf during our meetings over the years I've known him. He had yet to break 90 in his golfing career and was already apologizing for how poorly he may play. I assured him this day was 100% about enjoyment; score be damned. Little did he know (nor many high handicappers for that matter) that even though I have broken 70 in my career, that I share the same nerves as him. There is always pressure to perform up to your ability. Especially if you are overly concerned about others perceptions. Some might say irrationally concerned. I can never forget how much pressure I put on myself when playing with Dad, even during the periods of my best play. He always thought I was playing well. I would be shooting around par, but I could never put a full round together when playing along side him. He knew what I was capable of as we always discussed our golf outings on the phone.  His saying always used to be "Don't tell me, show me." I never was able to show him a round in the 60's but I did make him drop his jaw a few times and that was always a sense of pride and accomplishment. The days of shooting in the 60's are long gone. These days 75 is my new 70 and over the past 6 months that number has probably crept up to 80. The biggest competition in golf is with yourself anyway, and today I was determined to give myself a free pass.

Jason and Mike load up in one cart, I grab another. This is great as I still get some alone time while enjoying the company. We head off to the driving range to loosen up. I don't hit the ball well... actually, to be candid, I hit it down right poor. I'm fighting with a bad case of the Hooks, that's like trying to fight off a bad cold. After working through a few balls, I think to myself; "I'll be able to get around the course today, but there is no way I'm flirting with Par. She's way out of my league on this afternoon.".  After our warm up and final putting practice, we head to one of the most feared places on a golf course, the 1st Tee.  I would say most feared, but one must take into consideration such other fearsome opponents such as; the three-foot putt for the win, or tee to green carry over water before making an such an absolute statement.

Our tee time finally arrived and we were "on the tee".  Those that have played golf  know that being on the 1st Tee can be akin to being on stage before a crowd of people. Especially on a day like today when the tee times are booked solid and the next two foresomes are already congregating at the tee, awaiting their tee time. It's quite ironic that one such as myself who dreads being the center of attention chose golf as a source for enjoyment. A sport where it's participant is automatically the center of attention, to the point where everyone hushes to a quiet to watch you. There is this technique people always talk about when talking to a large group. Imagine your audience in their underwear. Since in golf you're not looking at your audience, (if you are, well... you may not be quite ready for the course) unfortunately it's much easier to start imagining yourself being the one donning underwear. When my turn comes, I put a tee in the ground and upon which I steadily place the ball.  I stand behind the ball and try to visualize its flight.  Nothing fancy, I just want to make solid contact.  I shakily put a drive down the right side of the fairway. It has a little fade and I was playing for a little draw.  The Starter makes the comment "If only we could always hit them like that huh." As if in a knee jerk reaction, I start to say how it isn't exactly what I wanted but... then I stop myself and accept the compliment in the manner it was probably given. I'll be able to clear the water hazard on my second shot, then a pitch and putt for a reasonable birdie chance on the first hole. All goes as planned except I barely missed the birdie putt. Tap in par... life is good.

Ten minutes later I find myself standing under a tree self-administering a mental attitude adjustment. I had skied a 3-wood to the right playing safe on this short par 4. My second was a slightly thinned 8 iron that been snared by the tree I had attempted to clear. After a pulled wedge approach, I made a nice 2-putt to salvage a bogey. We'll, at least I don't have to worry about protecting a mistake free round. This same type of performance follows me for the next 2 hours. A few good shots sprinkled between a few too many bad shots, producing only one more real quality birdie chance, which I missed. I seem to have developed major difficulty hitting the green with my wedges. Something that hadn't been a problem for me in recent memory. I ended up with a 40 on the front 9. 75 was now pretty much out knocked out of the equation. Of course at first mention of 40, just as I started to feel a twinge of disappointment, Mike makes the comment of "Damn, I'd be ecstatic with a 40 on any 9." I remind myself that my bad is really not too bad...

One good thing about golf is the number of fresh starts you are allowed, provided you take advantage. Many people use the start of the back 9 as a clean slate. A chance to redeem yourself from any missteps taken earlier. Some take it a step farther and use each hole as a fresh start. Others, usually the best players, see each shot as a fresh start. A chance to execute the perfect shot. Today I'm in more of the back 9 mode.  

The second 9 starts with a ridiculously short par-3. Following the trend I had started to establish during the previous 9 holes I miss the green with my wedge and fail to convert an up and down. (1 chip, 1 put par). Looks like more of the same, that opening bogey throwing a soggy blanket on my fresh start. The next 3 holes followed the same trend. Decent drives, 3 terrible approach shots either leaving a very long birdie putt or failed up and down attempt. 

Then comes the next par three; number 14. I'm already 3 over after 4 holes on the back 9. I haven't hit a decent iron shot in well, pretty much all day. Overall I'm still impressed with my demeanor.  I'm still having a great time and not obsessing on my score, but my frustration has been building. Evil thoughts have started to taint my overall optimism. I stand on the tee box and access the situation. There is water short, left, and behind the green, with a sand bunker on the front left as well. Did I mention I was fighting a case of the Hooks? A quick glance at the Skycaddie tells me it's 144 yards to clear the bunker and the pin is probably another 10 yards beyond that. My first objective, after making sure I won't need snorkel gear to play my second shot, is to clear the beach and reach the putting surface. We have a bit of helping wind, and long is not an option, so I choose an 8-iron. I try to focus on my objective just as someone shooting a free throw focuses on the rim. Deep in my semi-conscious mind an evil foe is engaging in a life or death battle with my sense of optimism. When I say evil, I'm not talking about a troublesome imp or malignant scamp. I'm talking more in the range of  Tolkien's towering Balrog.  I stand firm and feel as if  I put a good swing on the ball. Unfortunately, today the feel of my swing has little correlation with results after real world physics are applied. I was concentrating on my shot so I didn't actually hear it, but I just know that the Balrog was roaring "Don't HOOK IT!!!" during my back swing. I managed to hold off hooking it into the water, but I didn't hit the shot very solid either, a gust of wind would have probably saved the day, but it didn't arrive on time. Pack the car kids, we're headed to the beach! Probably with a little more frustration then today's quota technically was supposed to allow I fail to realize the quality of sand in the bunker, or in this case, the lack thereof. My attempt at an explosion shot is foiled by a rock hard "bunker", I watch as my ball completely flies the green. All of a sudden my probable bogey has turned into a possible double bogey. After a bad chip the possible becomes the new probable. A missed putt confirms that probability. I've just suffered my first double bogey of the day. Not only that, it was one of those double bogeys that really stick in your craw. It had taken me 4 shots to get down from the 5 yards off the green. I usually avoid the double or at least have more birdies then doubles. Today it's birdies 0 - doubles 1. Shake it off... I hook my drive 15, then have to yell "Fore!!" on my approach shot, as it soars toward the occupied 16th tee box. Sheepishly I arrive at my ball just as the people ahead of me are finishing teeing off. I sit there and stare at my ball sitting right smack dab in the middle of the 16th tee, about 5 feet in front of where the they are hitting from. They don't make a big deal about it, they were probably just happy someone yelled "Fore".  Many people nowadays don't provide that courtesy. After what can only be described as a blur of short game under-performance, I add up the damage. Another double-bogey. I have gone months avoiding the doubles, now I've had them back to back for the first time in, well... hell, I don't know how long, but it's been a long time. The score has gone beyond immaterial now, now it's all about pride. I step up on 16th, a hard dog-leg left. On a good day I would be cutting the corner to leave only a short pitch for my approach. On a great day I'd be hoping for an eagle putt. This was quickly becoming neither. The Balrog had broken through my defenses and was engaged in full frontal assault of my conscious mind. My one and only goal was now to not yank it into the woods. Funny thing about setting your expectations so low, your much more apt to fulfill them. I actually overcompensate and slice the ball down the right side. Well, I've been over there before.. possibly will be some tree trouble and a good 140 yards to the green. Jason and Mike have been battling slices all day, so in somewhat of an anomaly we all head toward the same location to seek out our golf balls in the rough.

Then we see it. I was so wrapped up in my golf game it came as something of a shock. It seemed so out of place, yet at the same time it seemed so perfectly placed. There, not more then a mere 15 yards away, was a solid 6 foot alligator sunning itself on the bank of the water hazard. It brought me back to reality real quick. Not in a fearful way, but more of a "That's pretty cool" way. I had been so wrapped up in my crumbling golf game that I had lost focus on where I was. It was a beautiful Saturday after noon in the middle of winter. Bluebird sunny skies and near 80 degrees of low humidity goodness. Spending my afternoon on the golf course. All things considered, that's not too bad. I cursed my lack of foresight in forgetting to put some sort of video or photographic device in my golf bag, gave the alligator a few more moments attention then went off to my ball with a much calmer sense of being. I was right about the tree trouble and executed a fairly decent approach shot having to slice the ball around the tree. I left myself a pretty easy chip and a good chance for an up and down par. After hitting my chip way too hard (need to remember to focus on the landing spot not the pin) that chance at a par quickly became another possible bogey. When taking a practice stroke for my long par putt, I accidentally struck my ball, moving it all of 5 feet and 45 degrees off my intended direction. Just like that I had put up my 3rd double bogey in a row. This was becoming uncharted territory.

I make my way to the 17th hole, a long dog-leg left par 5 that narrows down into high pines for the second and third shots. As we arrive at the tee box just as the course ranger pulls up in his cart. We tell him about the gator hanging out on 16 as we wait for the people ahead of us to clear. He hangs around to watch us tee off as he's headed toward the clubhouse and doesn't want make us wait as he drives down 17. I pull out my 3-wood as this hole is all about position, position, position. I proceed to hit a shot that may have unknowingly caused the death of any worms unlucky enough in my vicinity. Straight into the ditch. Then I hear the ultimate sign of empathy from your fellow golfer "Why don't you take a mulligan". I take the walk of shame back to my bag to grab another ball. My second attempt at least gets airborne, but it has a hard hook on it. It's fairly obvious it will probably be a lost ball, but at this point I'm afraid to look down, not for fear that I'm standing there in my boxers, but fear that I had forgotten to even put them on. I head back to my cart knowing that I'll be dropping yet another ball farther up the fairway after I fail to find that drive. Jason and Mike proceed to hit their usual slices down the right side and I head to my own personal hell down the left side. At this point, thankfully the ranger decides he's headed off to the clubhouse. As expected I don't find my ball, drop another one, and try to muster every positive emotion I can. I take a swing trying to hit a 5-iron lay up down the tight fairway lined by tall pines. Again, I hook it into the woods, I repeat the process looking futilely for my ball then dropping out another one. Good thing I added some extra balls to my bag, at this rate I may need them. Now I have 8-iron approach into the green. I'll give you two guesses as to what happened next, No... an alligator didn't come out of the woods with my ball his mouth. Yes, I hook my approach shot left of the green. At least this one isn't lost. I head up to the green and discover my ball laying precariously close to the base of a tree.

All of a sudden I realize my chute hasn't opened... this solo jump has spun out of control. The ground is speeding toward me at an astonishingly rapid pace and my game has completely abandoned my side. The Balrog has me firmly about the neck, choking the last bit of fight from my body. It really isn't as bad as I had expected. I think I expected shooting pains or bolts of lighting. Really it was more a feeling of just stopping the fight and accepting the results.

I put my full focus on the task at hand, an awkward chip with a tree to hinder my stance and back swing. I envision the shot I want to make, take a couple of practice strokes getting the feel to match that vision. I execute the shot and actually start to feel good about myself again. I sense a flicker of light in my will to survive. I remember my reserve shoot. There's one last chance. I try to gather my senses for the 18th Hole, a par 4 slight dog-left left. I pull out my driver and stand on the tee, trying to paint a mental picture of the shot I desire. I address the ball, take one more look down the fairway, visualizing my intended ball flight. I take a controlled yet purposeful swing, and I pure it. The ball flies out down the left edge of the fairway with a slight draw. Jason and Mike both respond with a "Nice shot!" and they really mean it. Mike adds "That thing ticked the edges of the corner pine tree, probably would have gone even 10-15 yards farther." I look up just in time to see the rushing wind catch hold of the reserve shoot. It opens in all it's spectacular glory. I arrive to my ball which sits in the middle of the fairway just beyond the corner. I only have about 40 yards remaining for my approach. I strike a pretty nice little sand wedge into the green, definitely my best of the day, leaving me about an 8 foot birdie putt. By far my best opportunity since the 1st hole. I study the break and putt a good roll on the ball, it just burns the edge of the cup stopping about 4 inches beyond the hole. From behind me I hear, "You were robbed." Suddenly my drastic string of double bogeys and complete disaster on the 17th were all but forgotten.

No one cared about the scores, we headed to our vehicles. We never actually added up our scores, so I'm not sure what Jason or Mike shot. I added mine up later that night at home. (You can view it from a later link if you wish, I was unable to take more then a 7 on 17 as my current handicap of 5 allows me to count nothing more then a double bogey) They headed off with smiles on faces. Jason anxiously talked about getting together to do this again. They both seemed oblivious to the fact that I had flirted so closely with death out on that golf course. And that's a good thing.

I called Linda to let her know I was done and she mentioned that she was heading over to Carol's to go on a walk. Well, since I'm here... I asked if she would mind if I stayed and practiced for a little bit. Of course not, she is always encouraging me to get out more.

After grabbing a couple of my remaining golf balls, a wedge, 9-iron and putter, I head back toward the practice green. About 30 minutes later father and son showed up. The son with his clubs and a putter, the father with a putter. They played chipping and putting games, some of them I remember playing with my Dad. It brought back a lot of memories, leaving me to wonder if Taylor will enjoy playing such games when she reaches that age. I can only hope. As the sun began to set I headed back to the truck and set off for home.

Today was a good day.

I normally wouldn't share this with anybody but... Here's the link to view the score card.

Near Death Experience

Gallery of Pictures Included in Blog

Cold, Colds, Parades and Floats

Here I am, staring at a blank page. I have things I want to talk about, but I'm not sure how to start. My first inclination is to note the date of my last entry and call "Not Too Bad", and by extension myself, a failure . When I initially launched this page, I never intended to go a month without posting something in this space.

Upon closer inspection, I'm able to step back and take a more in depth look at the situation. Realistically, I can't expect to go from decades of self-imposed reclusion to suddenly effortless expression of my thoughts to a mass audience overnight. (mass audience in this case taken as a purely relative term)

Part of the problem is not enough happening in my life that I deem sufficiently entertaining to those who may read these pages. The flip side of that coin is having too many thoughts and being unable to satisfactorily organize them for public consumption. Being stranded in this eternal, internal sparring match renders me to a perpetual state of inaction. Otherwise known as procrastination.

I could sit here for another month and dipping my toes into the pool. The water isn't going to get any warmer and my toes will resemble prunes long before I gain the skill of Michael Phelps. I just need to jump into the pool and start swimming.

A better analogy might be sitting atop a hill with a hastily built soap box racer. I know the steering mechanism isn't up to par and judging from previous posts the brakes are non-existent. But, sitting up here atop the hill will get me nowhere and if I wait much longer I'll be too old to get in and have fun driving the thing. With that said, I'll just choose a couple of subjects, push off... try to keep this thing on paved ground for as long as possible and pray there isn't traffic waiting for me at the bottom of the hill...



"How's the weather?" "It's COLD!"

Perhaps I'm mistaken but I could have sworn we lived in Florida. I know I've only been here 13 years, and with my advancing age my memory isn't what it used to be, but this winter has been the coldest I can recall. We've had so many freeze warnings and even though I've diligently covered our plants, the flower bed looks as if it has been kept by the Adams Family.

Let me preface the following paragraphs by saying I completely understand there are many out there living under much worse conditions then we currently are. Take Sarge for instance (pictured to the left) He spent most winters in a insulated dog house with a straw floor built into the side of the garage. He was plenty happy and you never once heard a complaint. This is one of my all time favorite pictures I've snapped. I always wished it was a little sharper, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to post it in a somewhat relevant context. He was a great dog and deserves his own post someday on this site. With proper respect shown and the groundwork laid, let me commence being a grumpy curmudgeon.

Our current abode doesn't do much to assuage this whole deep freeze situation. Our furnace is a relic of a bygone era. The house itself was built before I was born and I've come to believe the furnace wasn't new upon installation. Compounding this issue is the fact that the duct work is better suited distributing any generated heat into the attic then to the vents supplying livable space and I've seen Speedo's containing more insulation. I know I need to crawl up there, seal the joints in the duct work, and blow in some more insulation, but that is much easier said than done. In true old Florida tradition, our home has a nearly flat roof. I'm being generous when I say there may be 3 feet of head room at it's peak, which means I will have to crawl around on my stomach and seal all the joints before crawling around some more to re-insulate. I will obviously have to conduct this adventure during the winter, else I risk dying of heat stroke in the summer. Taylor is actually the perfect size to complete this task, but she lacks the prerequisite ability to crawl, or seal duct work, or control an insulation distribution hose. For now we cope with the strategic use of a space heater to supplement the relic residing in the closet.

When things seem bleak and I start feeling sorry for our current situation, I remember back to the days of my youth. Oh yeah, Taylor can look forward to many "When I was a kid..." stories as she grows up. I'm sure she will be thrilled. For instance...

We didn't have any central heat and our bedrooms were located in the basement on the opposite side of the house from the barrel stove. One of our main year round chores consisted of preparation for, or tending of the fire that burned continuously from early fall to late spring every year. I remember many mornings waking up and expecting to see my own breath. The first thing we would do would be to run over to the barrel stove and re-stoke the fire, hoping we had done a sufficient job the night before to have plenty of coals, then getting dressed huddling around the heat source. There were many times I realized I hadn't filled the stove with enough wood the previous night to keep the fire going for the morning. One of the times the coals weren't hot enough I learned one of those life lessons that tend to stick with you forever. For instance, you should never add kerosene to a smoldering fire, then close the door while you run upstairs to grab some matches from the kitchen. When you get back and open the door again you'll notice massive amounts of smoke billowing out of the opening. That smoke is actually very flammable. I bent down and struck a match... I don't recall if I actually got to throw the match into the stove. That detail is really immaterial. I do remember flying backward across the basement floor and explaining to everyone I saw the next few days why I lacked eyebrows.

Then there was the time just a few years before moving to Florida, when I was living and working in Tracy MN. I woke up one morning in the middle of a blizzard and headed to work in near white out conditions. I only lived about a mile from the office and of course I hadn't learned anything from living most of my life in Minnesota. I wasn't really dressed for the weather, wearing a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, with a moderate jacket and baseball cap. I made it maybe half way there before running up on a snow drift and getting stuck with all my wheels suspended above the road surface. With no other options and no hope of getting rescued (this was years before I owned a cell phone) I headed off on a trek toward the office. Now, I've done a lot of stupid things in my life including walking on ice in the spring long after it was safe to do so. I've fallen through many times by myself, each time making my Dad shake his head in disbelief as I arrived home soaking wet and freezing cold. One time it happened out in the middle of the lake we lived on, seriously thinking I'd met my end before finally finding purchase and pulling myself back onto the ice. (these excursions could be the subject of a future post)

That being said, never once did I have the feeling that I wasn't going to make it like that cold morning in Tracy. The wind was howling, the temperature was well below zero and I was dressed for a nice fall day. The only thought I had was someone was going to find me frozen in a snow drift later in the day when the sane people left their homes. Obviously, since I am here writing this blog, I did make it to the office, and luckily there was an entrance on the down wind side of the building that was still free from obstruction. Needless to say I was the only one who had even attempted to come to work that morning. The picture on the left was taken out of another door of the building. If you look closely you can see the drift is actually much higher farther away from the building. You can just see the tops of the trees in the distance. Later in the day I was able to get in contact with some who had a snowmobile to take me back to my house. So I guess in relative terms the winter I'm dealing with right not is not too bad... And at least our cold snaps are sandwiched between periods where the temperatures reach into the 70's. So when I see we are headed for a record low in the 20's and I see our thermostat stuck between 60 and 65 I know there is a large segment of the population that would scoff at any complaints I may have.

Living and working in a petri dish...

I've spent more time sick this year then healthy. With Taylor in daycare and Linda working at a school, they are kind enough to bring home every cold and bug making it's rounds out in the general population. We seem to play a biological game of "tag you're it" and I'm the slow kid who doesn't understand the rules. I'm sure it doesn't help that I live and work in the same place. For a couple of weeks Taylor and Linda seemed to be getting better as I was getting worse so we started to sleep in separate rooms trying to interrupt the viral version of hot potato. So I was sleeping on the futon in my office. Basically living and working in my own personal petri dish. With the cold weather we have been having I would just close the door and heat the office with a space heater during the day. Spending my days and nights taking medications, sneezing and coughing all in the same room. When the weather gave us breaks I would open all the windows in the house and try to acquire some fresh air and that seemed to help, at least mentally. With an abundance of patience and reams of Clorox disinfecting wipes, I'm happy to report that the entire house seems to be cold free at the moment. I'm hopeful that fact remains truthful for the foreseeable future.

Poor Taylor had it pretty bad for a while. Between the drooling from teething, a runny nose, coughing and and ear infection she had it really rough. You'll notice almost every picture taken recently her face is pretty well soaked from one of these sources. It's done nothing to detract from her cuteness factor. She has started eating "solid" foods.. that is if you can count apple sauce and other sorted saucy fruits and vegetables solid. She has started helping Mommy during her feedings. I've never been one to think dirty baby eating pictures were cute, and frankly even watching Taylor hasn't changed my mind on that subject. Thankfully right now she isn't all that messy, although I'm sure that will change when we start introducing things such as spagetti into her diet. I did capture a little video of Taylor helping Mommy feed her. There are also a couple of pictures to view.

Taylor Pictures

Taylor Helping Video


"That's ugly!"

I'm not going to name any names because I'm fairly confident that it wasn't meant in the way it sounds. But I happened to show someone some plans of a house I designed for the 2008 Spring Parade of Homes as an example of what I do for a living. The response I got was "That's ugly!" Now, I am the first to admit that looking at a 2-dimensional construction drawing doesn't show a plan in it's most flattering light, and not every style of house will suit ever persons taste in architecture. But, I did state that the house really wasn't that ugly in real life and promised to take some pictures of the house to defend my design. Since I've spent much of this month working on the brochure for the 2009 Spring Parade, I figured it was about time I actually posted pictures of my design from last year. Unfortunately I don't have any of my designs in this years Parade (the first time that has happened in a few years). I still did the brochure work for the Home Builders Association, a project I have done for the last 10 years. I take the construction drawings from the houses in the parade and redraw them to appear neatly in the brochure that gets handed it to those making the tour. I finished that project last Friday and that is always a reason for celebration. Anyway, here are a couple of pictures from my "ugly" house. I'll leave it to you, the viewer to form your own opinions.

2008 Parade Home

Enjoying Florida from a different perspective...

First thing many people think of when you mention Florida is beaches and palm trees. While we do have plenty of palm trees, and the beaches are plenty close enough to spend the day there and sleep in our own bed at night, the area surrounding Gainesville is much different then the stereotypical Florida landscape. One of the activities we really started to enjoy was kayaking. We are in close proximity to many rivers and fresh water springs. The closest is the Santa Fe River, which is where we have spent most of our kayaking time. It's a slow moving river that gradually approaches the High Springs area and becomes more and more clear as you travel along passing fresh water springs. Another place that has incredibly clear springs is Rainbow Springs. We haven't been there as often, but hope to head back in the future. We had planned on purchasing a couple of kayaks to more easily expand our destination and activity list. Some day I'd like to take a kayak out in the surf for some fun and to explore the possibility of some kayak fishing. As you all know, we received news early last year that put those plans on hold at least for a little while. For obvious reasons we didn't get any kayaking in last summer and I'm not sure yet how soon we will get back on the water, but I'm hopeful I haven't seen the last of that activity. I've uploaded a selection of pictures taken on a few of our Santa Fe River trips. While you won't really see any of it in these pictures, if you are quiet and watchful it's very common to see a vast array of wild life on a typical excursion. I've seen deer, raccoons, alligators, waterfowl, tons of fish and more turtles then you can shake a stick at.

Kayaking Photo Gallery

Well, I warned you before we started that I lacked brakes on this soap box. I really had no intention of writing a novel when I started. Luckily I believe I've avoided the traffic here at the bottom. Let's see how long it takes to drag this thing back up to the top and get ready to take it for another spin. By the way, there is a new poll up, please take the time to vote as I use that as a guide for things to write about when nothing else is going on. (it's over on the right side column)

Playing Catch-up Already...

Well, I guess I'm getting off to a bit of a rocky start in keeping timely updates on this blog. I don't have a lot of pictures to post. Now that the holidays have died down and life continues to march forward at it's unrelenting pace, the camera just doesn't seem to get brought out quite as often. Don't fret, I still understand what the core of my audience is here too see. There are a few pictures of Taylor near the end of this update. If you would like to jump ahead my feelings would not be hurt. After all, she is pretty cute, even if I am a bit biased.

For those who are still with me, I thought I would just give you a quick update of things that have happened around the household in the past couple weeks apart from Taylor. As mentioned earlier, the relentless march of time moves onward even with the addition to the family. It has little concern for the extra activities now involved in day to day living. I have petitioned to have a few more hours added to the day. Haven't heard back yet, but my hopes of a positive result are not high.

I did happen to fit in a round of golf last weekend. This is a rarity for me these days. My last time golfing was during our Thanksgiving visit with Andy & Beth in Panama City. I received a call around mid-week from a golf buddy at Turkey Creek (the course I used to belong to). He was one of the few people out there that actually carried his clubs once in a while. A high school teacher in what I would guess to be late 40's to early 50's, he would always be the one setting up the golf outings I used to go on almost weekly. He and I would also meet up and walk out a Turkey Creek, often in the evenings. Anyway, he and another one of his walking friends (another non-member) were going to walk the Municipal course on Sunday and invited me to come along.

Eager to get out on the course again I hastily accepted. Since I hadn't picked up a club in darn near 1 1/2 months I figured I should run over to Turkey Creek get a little practice in on Saturday afternoon. It felt good to be back at the club again, even if just to practice. I grabbed a large bucket and headed to the driving range... Soon I was wishing I had selected a small bucket.
In my head the swing was sound. I mean I have been doing this for 30 some odd years. It's not like I forgot how to swing a golf club. The balls sure forgot how to fly though. I skulled Sand Wedges, Fatted 8-irons, Yank Hooked 6-Irons, and Topped 3-woods and Sliced Drivers. At about the 6-Iron stage I noticed about 6-8 buzzards had started circling out near the end of the range. I thought to myself, "Is my game in that hurt of shape? Have they come to scavenge on the bones of my now deceased golf game? How am I going to play tomorrow with this?" As they worked themselves closer to me I became more frustrated with my game. There were very few solid shots to offset the putrid ones. With about 6 balls left to hit, 3 of the buzzards decended to earth about 85-90 yards down range. I grabbed my Sand Wedge tried to silence their mockery. None came close enough to make them take flight, but I was satisfied that none were skulled or fatted and all were in the general direction of my target. I then spent a little time chipping at the green in an attempt to recapture some semblance of touch. I was pleasantly satisfied that my feel hadn't totally abandoned me. With darkness settling in, I headed home.

Things actually turned out much better then I thought on Sunday. I struck the ball much better then I had on the range Saturday, and my short game was very effective. It was far from perfect and I fought my usual Hook, but I made putts when I really needed it. I ended up shooting a 38-37 for a 75. One Birdie on the Front-9 and one on the Back-9. It sure is a crazy game, If I had to predict my score on the Range the night before I would have guessed maybe an 85-90.

Operation Hickory Tree: In the last update I foolishly declared myself the winner vs. one of my many adversaries, the Hickory Tree. Perhaps I should clarify with some background information. For some reason unbeknown to me, (either in an epic failure of foresight, or an incredible act of vindictiveness) someone in the past of this homestead planted about 6-8 hickory trees surrounding our house. Starting late each summer and extending on into early winter our yard turns into a virtual battlefield. The nuts are rock hard and almost golf ball sized. During the fall you can hear them slam down onto our roof. When I mow the lawn it often sounds as if I'm mowing a gravel pit. They attract a plethora of gray squirrels which feed on the nuts leaving shells and half eaten nuts scattered over everything. On the plus side the trees are very attractive, on the negative side... well I don't have time to cover all that. There was one tree in particular that really chapped my hide. This one was a very large beautiful tree that forked at it's base and formed two large sweeping trees that framed our house on the left side of the driveway. Yes, the driveway... both of the canopies hung directly over our driveway. Now we only have a single carport (where another hickory tree has staked it's claim of destruction.) which basically means we have a non functional driveway for 3/4 of the year. Sure, we parked there once in a while. We both have the hail like pot marks on our vehicles to prove it. I tried to look back through my old photos to find a picture of the tree, but I seem to have subconsciously framed it out of every picture I've taken around that area of the house. My hatred for this tree must run deeper then even I imagined.

Anyway, one December day, while Linda and Taylor were back home visiting family, I get a knock on the door from the neighbor across the street. She says there are some tree people doing work at her place, she would see if I could get a deal on dropping our tree since she knew we wanted to do so at some point. They said they would fell the tree for $100 and leave the clean-up to me (which I wanted because it was a chance to get some firewood free of charge). The neighbor said "Merry Christmas, I'll put in $50 if you want to do it." Well, this service doesn't usually come cheap so I jumped at the opportunity to get to the ground for $50 out of pocket. They proceeded to drop the tree and cut the trunk to clear our driveway. They packed up and left and I now realized I basically had 2 very large trees laying in my front yard.

With a quick phone call to Nate and Carol, I procured a chainsaw to begin my dissection. Through back spasms and sore muscles I separated limb from trunk, stick from limb, and twig from stick. Saving almost everything 1" diameter and larger, this process lasted almost two weeks, often with periods of downtime for recovery. Some will be used for a back yard fire pit I plan to build, the rest will be used in the fireplace. Well, when I finally had completed the dissection. A pile of twigs and sticks on the "curb" ready for pick up, the rest of the tree cut down to size and stacked according to size, I foolishly declared myself the winner. Little did I know the Hickory Tree had only begun to fight. I'm now faced with a stack of very large, very strong chunks of hickory that needs to be split. My tools have switched from gasoline powered chains to granola bar powered pains. I have a splitting axe, a splitting maul and a small sledge hammer. I've done this before, but never with a tree this vindictive. After 6-8 swings with the splitting axe, each one bouncing off a moderately sized selection of wood, I noticed the only effect my of my effort was to give the wood surface a certain corduroy effect. It was at this point I realized I had only won the opening battle. The winner of the war was and still is in doubt. I'm thinking I may need to succumb to the arms race and rent a wood splitter. Updates will be given as events transpire.

Here are some pictures taken throughout the process of dissecting the tree. There are no pictures of Taylor out helping me, so don't expect any cute smiles on this link.

Operation Hickory Tree


It's now January 20th and our Christmas decorations still are not completely down and put away. Part of it is just a lack of uninterrupted time to complete a task. Part of it is that the decorations really look nice and it's such a shame to rush them back off to storage.

There is no long drawn out story about this small segment. Just an appreciation from me to Linda. While it is a joint effort each year with each of us having our assigned areas, Linda coordinates the effort and does all the finishing details to pull everything together. My job is to hang the greenery and lights, decorate the top of the china cabinet and get the tree ready for Linda to decorate. She pretty much takes it from there and I must say each year it looks even better.

I decided to take a few pictures of main decorated areas to share with family and friends unable to visit during the Holidays.

Christmas Decorations 2008


No discussion could be complete without mention one of the more significant events in our household on the start of this new year.

National Champions!!!

One thing I love about living in Gainesville is the quality of college athletics we are able to follow each year. Make no doubt about it Gainesville is a college town. Granted it's a large town, but then it's a large University. I first moved to Gainesville in the early spring of 1996. That first year here was an initiation into college athletics like I've never seen before. The passion for the home team runs deep and since I never really had connection to any other team I quickly became a fan. That first year started with the bang of a National Championship with Danny Wuerffel at the helm. While football reigns supreme in the south I quickly found out that no matter what time of year there is always some championship caliber sporting event to follow. Dad and I used to always go to some Basketball game during his visits. The program was still building with Donnovan and tickets were more plentiful then football. He really enjoyed those games and became an interested observer of Gator athletics. We would talk about games on the phone at times. I always wished I could have gotten him into a big football game in The Swamp. Nothing I've done has ever matched the atmosphere of a bigtime game in The Swamp. The collective roar of 90,000 rabid fans is a sight to behold.

Over the years my attachment to the program grew. Even though I moved to Gainesville years after my college days were over, I definitely feel a connection with the team. For me they aren't an alma mater (would love to have attended, they even have a great Architectural Program) but they are my home team. With that said, the last few years have been something of a dream. Back-to-back Basketball Championships in '06 and '07 sandwhiched around a Football Championship in '06. Then when the Gators took break, the Kansas Jayhawks win the Basketball Championship in '08. Now we've just experienced another Football Championship. Needless to say it's been Utopia for a sports fan. Thankfully Linda, as someone who is quite the fan herself, is fully supportive of my passion. Her true sports passions lies with Jayhawk Basketball but she really roots on the home team as well!

I'm already excited about spring practice coming up then the Orange & Blue Game (final scrimmage of spring practice that usually draws 40-50,000 people). Next year should be fun. But first there is Basketball Season, then maybe I will start watching some more Baseball. When Taylor gets a little older we can go see very good girls athletics in Gymnastics, Volleyball and Soccer. I'm sure I may even get her into some games in The Swamp!

Speaking of Taylor. For those who read through this entire posting, here's a few pictures for your trouble. As I stated to start this update there are not that many, but it's a nice sample.

Early January Taylor Pictures.