The Shadow Proves The Sunshine

Switchfoot’s “Shadow Proves The Sunshine” is one of my favorite tunes. Check out the lyrics below, and you can listen to the recording at the very bottom of the home page if you like. The shadows proving the Sunshine in the attached photo are of my family at Yellowstone Park this past summer.

Sunshine, won't you be my mother
Sunshine, come and help me sing
My heart is darker than these oceans
My heart is frozen underneath

We are crooked souls trying to stay up straight,
Dry eyes in the pouring rain
The shadow proves the sunshine
The shadow proves the sunshine

Two scared little runaways
Hold fast to the break of day light where
The shadow proves the sunshine

Oh Lord, why did you forsake me?
Oh Lord, don't be far away away
Storm clouds gathering beside me
Please Lord, don't look the other way

Crooked souls trying to stay up straight
Dry eyes in the pouring rain
The shadow proves the sunshine
The shadow proves the sunshine

Two scared little runaways
Hold fast to the break of day light where
The shadow proves the sunshine
The shadow proves the sunshine

Yeah Yeah, shine on me
Yeah Yeah, shine on me
Yeah Yeah, shine on me
Yeah Yeah, shine on me

Crooked souls trying to stay up straight
Dry eyes in the pouring rain
The shadow proves the sunshine
The shadow proves the sunshine

Two scared little runaways
Hold fast to the break of day light where
The shadow proves the sunshine
The shadow proves the sunshine

Yeah Yeah, shine on me
Yeah Yeah, shine on me
Yeah Yeah, shine on me

Shine on me,
Let my shadows prove the sunshine

Olive Garden Is A Hate Crime Against Italian Food

In August our family decided to give Olive Garden another try. The last time I had been in one was sometime around 1994 or so. That experience was so awful I vowed to never step into one again.

We gave it another try, all six of us, while traveling on our vacation this summer. The feedback from the family was almost instantaneous. 6 our of 6 votes against ever going there again.

It began as we walked towards the front door and were treated to the stench of the dumpsters nearby (a smell that lingered within our olfactory glands for a good 30 minutes). It continued with the dry tasteless cardboard breadsticks (sporting freeze dried garlic sprinkled on top), and the crapyness reached its zenith with the arrival of our entrées. Several of us really, and I mean REALLY, thought we were going to throw up after dinner.

If you’ve ever tasted fresh homemade Italian food from a family restaurant outside of Florence, or dined outside in a Roma piazza, or even had a good bowl of pasta arrabiata from Macaroni Grill (or for that matter, a nice styrofoam platter of spaghetti at a public school lunch room), you know that anything Olive Garden serves is just so much tomato saucy goop.

With the vast selections of decent independent and chain Italian restaurants in almost any city and town in the United States, why does anyone still eat at the Olive Garden?

ps. if you are a fan of Olive Garden, PLEASE, seek help. If you tell me what town you're in I'll be happy to send you a few suggestions in your area of where you might test out an alternative or two.

Update: Announced Shoplifting

Wow. My “friend” who I will not name, but is the writer of the wildly popular blog http://www.freemoneyfinance.com/ did a favor recently by linking to one of my posts from a couple weeks ago: Announced Shoplifting.

I thought is was a mildly humorous story about my sometimes flaring temper and what I did when I had horrible customer service at a beach store in Ft. Walton Beach FL.

Apparently some of my “friends” readers did not. Had a few comments that were less than complimentary about my behavior. Well, at first I just laughed about them. Then I started thinking more about a few of them. I think the breaking point was when my daughter spoke up for me and defended me saying that I wouldn’t do anything dishonest or wrong.
The fact is, what I did was wrong- even though the way I was treated (or rather ignored) by the store staff that day was incredibly bad. It just does not justify taking merchandise without paying for it. The more I thought about it the more I remembered about that day. While I was in a typical rush to get back to the beach and my family, I had no real deadline. No event at the beach required me to get back at an exact time with a boogie board and sand toys in hand. I was on vacation. And there are 2 or more other beach stores a short drive away. I could have just dropped the merchandise on the floor and driven to another store to buy the stuff.

So there it is. It was wrong, and I’m glad the issue came up. Its always a good thing to right the wrongs.

I mailed a check today to Wings for $60. That should cover the $50 worth of toys plus $10 in interest for the last 46 months.

I also included a print out of my original blog post so they will know why they are getting $60. Didn’t feel like writing a letter to go along with the check.

Announced Shoplifting

Earlier this week I wrote a post about how I told AT&T I was about to walk out of their store with merchandise without paying for it unless they at least recognized that I was standing at the counter and started to help me.

I thought of this tactic because of some shoplifting I DID do a year and a half ago at a beach store in Ft. Walton Beach named Wings.

We were at the beach for vacation and decided we needed a few new toys for the beach. A couple foam wave runners, a new shovel and some sand toys, and a few other things. All in about $50 worth of stuff.

I went into the store late morning one day and there were hardly any customers- but there were plenty of staff. Probably 6 or 7 of them all in that 18-24 year old range. There were a couple in the back sitting on top of the air-brushed tee shirt counter, a couple out front smoking cigarettes, and a couple more on the far side of the check-out counter talking away about some party or other.

I brought my purchases up to the counter to check-out and stood there for a minute or so while listening to the two clerks chat away. They didn’t even look at me.

I politely interrupted and said hello. I asked if one of them could please ring me up. One of the girls looked at me and informed me that she was on lunch break. She then left the front desk with the other girl and they went to the back. I was standing alone at the front counter. I then wandered to the tee shirt area and asked if someone could help me. The guy said he wasn’t a cashier, but would find someone to help me. He disappeared into the same back room door the two girls had just entered. I stood there a minute or so but no one came out.

I went to the front desk and waited. And waited. About 5 minutes. I then announced to the store (about the only employee that could hear me was the other guy sitting at the tee shirt counter) I was going to leave without paying. I waited another minute and then walked out with the booty. As I did I ran into a couple staff people coming into the store after a smoke break and told them what I was doing and could they help me. They said they were on break.

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Rock, Paper, Scissors, Mud

Rock beats scissors, and scissors beats paper. And somehow, though I have never really undertood this, paper beats rock. According to a tour guide at the Hoover Dam, what beats rock, or rather concrete, is really mud.

A couple weeks ago I braved the depravity of Las Vegas and brought my wife and four kids to sin city for several days vacation.

We avoided the strip at night, though did have to brave it a couple times around dinner time. Fortunately nothing to wacky happened other than the traveling billboard trucks with a scantily clad female on an ad with a message along the lines of “Lonely? Call me tonight!”

We went there for a couple reasons…the hot weather and cool refreshing pools at the MGM Grand (a cold snap hit Vegas while we were there), and the surrounding attractions (Hoover Dam, Red Rock Canyon, Lake Meade, etc).

On one of our day trips we stopped by a chocolate factory for a tour and samples, then headed to Hoover Dam. It is certainly an experience I will never forget- the massive concrete structure seemed almost beyond human ability to construct…and the massive turbines that the Colorado river flows through to power millions of homes and businesses were so large that when they were built the government had to first build forges and factories there at the building site because no form of transportation existed at the time to move these from any distance.

We took the full tour and traveled down hundreds of feet below the surface packed into a surprisingly large elevator with a rather animated and goofy tour guide. But I repeat myself.

On the tour a few questions were asked of the guide as we moved from the feeder tunnels, through the depths to the power station and then back up to the observation area. I had one question that our family had wondered about earlier on the tour- how long would this dam last? Or rather, how long did the designers think it would stand? We guessed amongst ourselves with my guess being the farthest out- I thought about 200 years. That seemed reasonable.

I asked the guide the question when we stopped to wait for the elevator up to the surface.
“This dam was built to last 2,000 years. But it wont really last that long…the sediment will build up against the dam and make it useless a few years before that.”

2 millennia. What has man made that was expected to last 2 millennia? Surely the pyramids, and perhaps a Roman or Greek building or two…but not too many things I think were built with this time frame in mind.

Gatlinburg, TN

The two most amazing places to see the culture and the people of the true south have to be Graceland and Gatlinburg.

We came up here to the mountains this weekend to escape the Nashville/Franklin heat. A balmy 88-90 degrees instead of 100+.

As always, we were amazed at the number of motorcycles, tattoos, mullets, tank-top tees, big hairdos, cigarette packs in tee shirts, cut-off jeans, skull caps, air-brushed art, pancake houses, wedding chapels, souvenir shops, old tyme photo places, taffy machines, Ty and Webkinz stuffed animals and Daisy Dukes.



We gave in and let the girls get an Old Tyme Photo. We fit right in. Scary.






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Last Minute Vacation

The annual CBA Convention (its now called the ICRS- International Christian Retail Show, but I cant help but call it what I have known it as for 15 years) starts in Atlanta today. Origianlly I planned on going late Tue night and coming home Wed afternoon, but a couple more clients of mine have asked me to be there. Its now turned into a 4 day trip.

This morning before church Michelle and I were talking about me having to leave today, and that I really didn’t want to go. I have been crazy busy lately and haven’t seen the family much- just the six of us. Last week was with friends, the week before I was in LA. So we decided to take an impromptu family trip.

I called my hotel in Atlanta and they graciously upgraded my room to accommodate the whole family at no extra charge. We skipped church YET AGAIN, Michelle and the girls packed, and we set out for Atlanta.

I love to do things spontaneously…and while Michelle usually doesn’t, she did me proud today. She jumped in with no concerns. It will be fun. Or at the very least, not boring.






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Inside Button

I love it when my wife laughs uncontrollably. It’s sort of like getting a basketball to bounce when it’s sitting still. You have to work hard at first to get it to bounce a few centimeters off the ground, but if you keep working it you can make it bounce as long and as high as you want.

Once you get Michelle going, you can work it and keep her laughing until she about passes out from lack of oxygen. The things that seem to make her laugh the hardest is when I act like an idiot and make a fool of myself. I guess because normally I'm just too-cool-for-school and in control.

This past spring when we were on vacation in Destin FL one of those occasions happened.

Our girls drive us nuts by always competing to push elevator buttons. According to them there are two distinct kinds- inside buttons and outside buttons. If one is lucky enough to push one of them, they are forbidden from pushing the other so that one of the remaining 3 girls has a chance to push a button. It’s amazingly important to them- not sure why.

Most places they push and shove to position themselves walking down a hallway to get to the elevator first to push the button without breaking into an actual run and bringing about the wrath of Mom or Dad… “Stop running! You’re gonna fall and break your neck!”

On one evening, leaving our beach condo and heading to dinner, I whispered to Michelle while we waited for the elevator to arrive on the 4th floor - “Watch this…when the elevator opens I’m going to charge in and push the inside button.”

The bell dinged. The door opened. And I, a large 6 foot 2 inch man charged into the elevator pushing and shoving my lovely and petite 4 girls to the left and right like a massive linebacker breaking through the line to attack a quarterback. The girls were shocked and surprised as their little bodies were thrown aside, and their dad victoriously broke through and pushed the inside button with a war cry of victory.

The man from the 5th floor that was inside the elevator looked like he was about to soil his pants. I said hello sheepishly. We all got on the elevator and rode down to the lobby in silence.

By the time we got in the car Michelle was laughing so hard she was crying.

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Unexpectedly Perfect

I have a Sony Mavica digital camera that shoots fairly decent photos, and then burns them right to a CD-R build into the camera. Plenty of storage, easy to use (pop the CD-R out of the camera, pop it straight into a computer- voila).

The only downside is the delay between pushing the button to take a picture, and the actual picture being taken. Many digital cameras have a bit of a delay. My Sony Mavica’s delay is ridiculous. When I took pictures of the girls playing snow-softball I had to push down the button when the snowball was still flying through the air half-way to the girls to get a chance of snapping them in mid-swing. To use my camera, one has to be able to see into the future to get the shot exactly right.

That’s what makes this next photo so amazing to me. On a recent trip to the ocean we stopped by Gulfarium (a cross between an aquarium and seedy carnival). I took this photo of a dolphin taking a fish out of the mouth of a trainer. I had to push the button down while the dolphin was still underwater on its way to make the jump.



I need a better/newer camera. For every one of these I get right, I take 100 wrong.






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For Me, The Ocean = Boat Rental

Anytime we vacation near the ocean I am compelled by some inner-force to rent a boat and take it out on the ocean.

I know this sounds corny, but whenever I hear the song “Cool Change” by Little River Band (which isn’t often), it rings true to my soul:

If there's one thing in my life that's missing, It's the time I spend alone
Sailing on the cool and bright clear waters
There's lots of those friendly people, showing me ways to go
And I never want to lose your inspiration

Time for, a cool change, I know that it's time for a cool change
Now that my life, is so pre-arranged, I know that it's time, for a cool change

Well I was born in the sign of water, and it's there that I feel my best
The albatross and the whales they are my brothers
It's kind of a special feeling, When you're out on the sea alone
Starin' at the full moon like a lover

Time for, a cool change, I know that it's time for a cool change
Now that my life, is so prearranged, I know that it's time, for a cool change

Well I've never been romantic, and sometimes I don't care
I know it may sound selfish, but let me breathe the air

If there's one thing in my life that's missing, It's the time that I spend alone
Sailing on the cool and bright clear waters
It's kind of a special feeling, out on the sea alone
Staring at the full moon like a lover

Time for, a cool change, I know that it's time for a cool change
Now that my life is so prearranged, I know that it's time
for a cool change

Sorry- the cornymeter is pinging red.

I was in fact born in the sign of water (Pisces) though I recognize no power in the goofyness of the whole zodiac thing.

There is a kind of a special feeling I have when I am out on the sea alone- though I prefer to be out there with Michelle and the girls. The last time I was out on the sea alone, I had rented a 15 foot speed boat and taken it out on the Gulf of Mexico, leaving from Tampa. I was about 10 miles out when a squall developed and I was completely surrounded by thick fog. Now that was an interesting feeling. I slowed down, turned around in the captain’s chair and stared at a spot in the water directly behind me, and tried to turn the boat around and head in the direction I came. After a few minutes I was out of the fog and could see land.

Probably the most amazing experience I have ever had out on the ocean was a few years ago when Michelle, my girls K, L and A, any my sister Carla and B-I-L Josh went out with me on a boat I rented in Newport Beach CA. The seas were a bit rough (about 5-8 foot swells) which makes it THE BEST. At full cruising speed the boat soared through the air as it crested the larger swells and the experience was intense and full of life.

It is common on my jaunts out on the ocean to spot all sorts of sea-life. Sharks, seals, dolphins and so many other fascinating creatures. On this particular trip we did spot a dolphin in the distance and headed towards it. As we approached we noticed that a large part of the water surface ahead was teaming with movement just below the surface.

We got closer and realized we had entered the midst of a massive colony of dolphins- perhaps 100 or more. It was an amazing experience. They looked at us, swam by us, and as we started to move again they raced along with us altering their course to race us, move ahead, slip behind, swim alongside and stare at us. We were able to reach over the boat and touch any number of them. A once-in-a-lifetime experience I suspect.






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Confession

Most people that know me relatively well- even those that know me very well- probably wouldn’t know that I have a serious problem with revenge. Not the dime store kind. The kind that takes offense easily, hold grudges, looks to get back at everybody all the time. I don’t do that at all. In fact, my wife thinks I look too often for the possibility that those that wrong us or others didn’t really mean it or understand the impact of their actions or words.

What I do have a problem with is taking revenge on those who wrong others (especially kids) and leave no doubt they know exactly what they are doing. When people are downright mean and nasty. I know the bible is clear about revenge- it's not mine to take. It robs God of his place. It basically is telling God that I know better than him and will right the universe and make sure good triumphs over evil.

I can't help myself sometimes. Two examples…

A couple years ago we were on vacation in California. Michelle, K, L, A and I (our youngest R was too little and stayed home with my parents). We were in line at some attraction or other in downtown LA and Michelle and I witnessed a boy of about 8 years old absolutely torturing his younger brother (probably 4 or so). He was hitting, kicking, punching and pinching him and there was nothing funny or lighthearted about it. He was being cruel and mean. The 4 year old was defenseless and every time he cried out or whimpered his parents would turn around and either scold or smack him while the 8 year old put on an act of innocence. After 20 minutes in line I couldn’t take it anymore. As they passed by us in the weaving velvet roped line I ‘accidentally’ planted an elbow into the forehead of the 8 year old. He winced with pain and looked at me. I gave him my absolute meanest ‘I’m gonna kill you boy’ look and wiggled my finger at him while quietly whispering ‘stop bothering your brother.’ That ended it.

One gorgeous evening in Disney World I was quickly walking from one side of the park to the other. My family was in line at Splash Mountain and I had been on the other side of the park meeting for a few minutes with some people from work (we were there for Night of Joy and several of our artists were performing in the park). As I made my way to the edge of Frontierland, I noticed a pack of teenagers walking in front of me goofing off and laughing hard. It was dark and hard to see what they were doing, but after a minute or two I noticed one in the group was shielding himself behind a couple of his friends and winging pennies at people walking towards them. When I say winging, I mean FULL-ON high speed throwing. You know how you hold a coin by its edges and whip it through the air? That’s what he was doing- hitting people in the chest as hard as he could. When he would hit someone, he would duck down behind his friends as they all kept walking. The victim would be in pain, confused, look around and not see anything suspicious. Sometimes they would stand there for a few seconds looking around trying to figure out what and who hit them. The teenagers would burst out laughing and get ready for the next victim. I observed them do this 3 times when an idea came to me. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a quarter (a good 2-3x the size and mass of their puny pennies) and got closer to the group. As they continued to walk and the perp sized up his next victim, he cocked his arm back for the shot. I let loose with a 50MPH speed ball right at the back of his head. WHOMP. It struck true. King David himself would have been impressed. The teenage boy let out a whelp and dropped to his knees. His friends turned around and asked what happened. The boy said “I don’t know! Something hit me in the head! Who did it?” As I walked past him, I looked down at the nearly crying boy (he looked to be 16 or 17) and said “I did,” smiled at him and kept walking.






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The Beach

The DigitalRich Crew just got home a couple hours ago from our Spring Break trip to Okaloosa Island- just west of Destin Florida. Destin is known affectionately as the Redneck Riviera.

It is our preferred beach location- 8 hours from our home by car, and graced with sugar white sand, clear water, and our favorite Italian restaurant in the world- ‘Ciao Bella.’

It was a successful trip- no major sunburns, no vacation-stress arguments, plenty of beach-chair relaxation and a huge sand castle completed. It was a much needed break, and the long road trip back today is my excuse for this lame post.






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The Weak Link

House, car, television and now a kite. These are things I wanted to buy, and tried to buy, but the experience was ruined by the negative power of a single person.

So much goes into the production and sales of things. Teams of product developers get the ok from teams of financiers and visionaries. They start to make or build stuff. They hand those things off to marketers that strive to identify the proper demographic targets and how they can be reached. They then craft the marketing message and decide how, when and to whom that message is delivered. The sales teams take the product and message to retailers, dealers and distributors. Manufacturing and operations people then take over and make sure the product is available at the right places and the right times to meet anticipated demand. Then some person receives the product, unpacks it, sets it on the shelf and waits for the sales.

All the work and passion that has been put into a product is resting on the last person in the chain- the last link. This person has an amazing power to make or break a deal simply by the nature of their attitude and demeanor as well as product knowledge. This is the retail clerk.

Yesterday I was dead-set on buying a new kite. The whole family trekked with me into a kite store right on the beach in Okaloosa Island in Florida. The cash in my pocket was screaming to be spent and our plan was to have a delicious breakfast at The Breakfast Club restaurant at Okaloosa’s Boardwalk, and then walk a short distance to the Kitty Hawk kite store.

It was a disappointing morning. Turns out The Breakfast Club closed after hurricane Ivan, never to open again. We got back into the car and went to IHOP instead. After eating we came back to the Boardwalk and went into the kite store. I was overwhelmed with the selection.

I had no idea what I was doing. The last time I bought a kite in a place other than a mass merchant retailer that had 2 to choose from was…never. I wandered around confused by all the different types of kites and knew I needed help. The one employee on duty was wearing a name tag that indicated she was the Assistant Manager.

Apparently the retail management training she had undergone practiced a whole new non-conformist curriculum. They must have taught retail managers how to break the mold and stand out from the crowd. She looked angry and bitter, avoided all eye contact, and was too preoccupied unpacking boxes to help me spend my money and fulfill the hopes and dreams of visionary kite creators waiting each week to see how many of their creations were sold around the country.

I wanted to see how long it would take for her to ask me if I needed help. I gave up after 20 minutes or so. I approached her with a kite I thought would work for me and asked where I could find extra string. I brought it up to the fort she had been guarding non-stop since I came in (also known as the sales counter) and set it down in front of her. I asked her what type of string was included and where I could find another 500-1000 feet of it to add to this purchase. Here is our dialogue best I can recall:

AsstMgr: “You want to buy THIS kite?”

Me: “Umm..yes?”

AsstMgr: “Do you know how to use one of these kites?”

Me: “I think so”

AsstMgr: “Well I don’t think you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking for more line. This is a stunt kite. It uses a set length dual-line and the manufacturer puts the right amount of line in the package.”

Me: Thinking, not said out loud- HALLELUJAH! Information from on high! I’m finally getting somewhere on my journey to buy a kite today even though right now I feel like an imbecile that doesn’t even know how to BUY a kite much less fly one.

Me: Waiting for her to say something else. Nothing coming. Still nothing coming. I give up- “ok, then could you help me find a…umm…normal kite?”

AsstMgr: “Well what exactly are you looking for?”

Me: Trying to lead her away from the fort and towards the kites, her not moving “I guess a normal kite. You know, a regular one you fly. I’m not sure how else to describe what I’m looking for. Could you help me?”

AsstMgr: Didn’t say anything, but she finally put down her clipboard and walked out from behind the counter. I was amazed to see she had movable legs.

She walked with me to where the kites were- thousands of them. She asked me which one I wanted. I almost yelled at her “that’s exactly what I need you to help me with!” I pointed out one hanging from the ceiling I thought looked cool. “That one is out of stock” she said. I pointed out another one that would probably be my next pick. “I sold the last one of those last week.”

I then asked her if I could buy the display model of one of the two kites I liked. She said no- they don’t sell the displays. She seemed very interested in getting this conversation over with and back to her clipboard. She had work to do.

I left without buying a kite. Our plans to go to the beach later that day to fly our new kite were dashed on the pounding surf of Okaloosa Island Beach. I could almost hear the silent screams of a million designers, investors, manufacturers, distributors, retail store owners and their families that need to pay for braces and college deprived of yet another few dollars of income.






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London Wallets Falling Down

My first visit to the UK, that turned out to be just to London, was many years ago (BK- before kids). I had planned everything out- Fly to London, stay several nights in a quaint B&B in Russell Square and see the sights, and then rail it up north to hit Liverpool to do the whole Beatles pilgrimage thing, and then take trains to wherever we wanted on the island, whenever we wanted- Scotland, Dover, anywhere.

The Beatles pilgrimage part sticks out like a sore thumb in the itinerary, but as a Beatles freak it was required.

Michelle and I didn’t have much money. We saved for some time, and had just enough for our core expenses (airfare, accommodations, food, BritRail passes) and a tad more for discretionary spending (Beatles stuff, gifts for family and friends, more Beatles stuff).

Shortly after we arrived- I think it was the second day- we rode a double-decker bus on a tour of London. I took my wallet out to check something, and then tucked it under my leg instead of putting in back in my pocket. Why, I don’t know. When we got to our destination we got up, walked off the bus, and left my wallet on the seat. Amazingly I did see it again.

Inside the wallet was £200 (almost all of our discretionary money) and the BritRail passes. Our planned trip to Liverpool and the rest of the island was shot. Fortunately the B&B in London was able to extend our stay.

A week later, back in the US, I took a small package out of the mailbox. Inside was my wallet, with a note from a semi-nice stranger that said they had found my wallet and thought I might want it back to save the hassle of replacing drivers license, credit cards, miscellaneous other ID and membership cards. The note mentioned the money was taken, as well as the BritRail passes- “sorry about that.”

The incident made an impact on Michelle far greater than me. To this day, when we leave a restaurant, theater and especially a bus, she often asks loudly “do you have your wallet?” Just a little embarrassing, but deserved.

Despite many visits to the UK since, I have yet to make it to Liverpool or the northwest coast. Someday.






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Two Lost Daisies

I read a story online last night about a dog, well actually a “rat terrier,” that ran away from home in Colorado in April 2006 and showed up some 1300 miles away here in Tennessee Christmas night. It is an amazing story- whether it happened the way the owner suspects (Daisy was stolen in CO and escaped near Knoxville) or Daisy actually trekked the many miles Eastward.

Many (many) years ago our family (as in my mom, dad, sister and mini-me) was vacationing in North Carolina, staying in our grandparents cabin near the Pisgah National Forrest outside of Burnsville. It was a rustic cabin put together some years earlier by my grandfather James Moore on a couple acres he and my grandmother scrimped and saved for as a summer escape from Florida’s heat.

The weeks spent there while growing up provided a platform for some of my fondest memories: getting lost rafting with my cousin in the deepest part of the forest, river-walking, building massive rock dams, bonfires that lasted until dawn, and of course, losing and then finding my dog Daisy.

The land the cabin was on was adjacent to a dairy farm so an electric fence ran the length of the property. We suspect Daisy crossed through the fence, was shocked, and decided she wouldn’t make that mistake again and likely wandered off looking for another way to get back to the cabin. Days went by and we couldn’t find her despite endlessly searching the surrounding area screaming her name. I don’t remember all of the details of the search, but I do have vivid memories now of the despair the whole family felt.

About a week or so later, we took a trip to Pisgah National Forrest, with inner-tubes in tow, and hit the Toe River for some white water tubing. If you have been, you know the insane fun that can be had sitting inside a giant truck sized inner-tube rushing down the river, and dropping down 3-8 foot waterfalls into pools of deep and cold river water. It is quite an experience.

Late in the afternoon, a couple walked up to our picnic table asking if the van with the Maryland tags was ours. They asked if we had lost a dog by chance. Turns out Daisy showed up at their house, miles and miles away from our cabin, through dense forests and ranges of hills almost earning mountain status, and walked right up to their front door. Daisy had a collar with a vaccination tag on her that didn’t have her name- only the city and state of the vet clinic that had vaccinated her near Fort Meade Maryland.






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Work Days Off vs. School Days Off

The energy and excitement kids have when they are out of school is amazing. Their true personalities arise- alive, excited, and fresh; the world is full of fun and possibilities.

Somehow, the excitement of a day off work is not what a day off school ever was. I guess it depends on what work you do. If you are like me, and current or past jobs had other people in different time zones or even countries (i.e. they don't have the day off) depend on work you do, or if big projects that transcend Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter or even Martin Luther King Day need to get moved down the playing field, the days off just aren’t as exciting. The Blackberry buzzes, phone rings, people need responses first thing in the morning after a holiday. All of it robs the abandonment of a day off work.

I don’t recall ever getting an E-mail from my teacher on Saturday afternoon informing me that something big came up and I need to put in some extra hours and also do the EVEN numbered problems 1-50 from page 238 in my math book- not just the odd ones. Didn’t have a professor call late Friday afternoon and let me know the deadline for the essay was moved up a few days to Monday at 9AM. When you have a day off from school- its just that. You know going in the total of what you need to have coming out, and if you are smart, you get it done at the end of the first day off. No worries.

As I enter the last few weeks of my current position, and only have a few things to wrap up- I am sensing a glimmer of that past joy. Yesterday I only had an hour or so of work. Today- none. This weekend, maybe a couple hours aimed at determining what I do next- so I can’t really chalk that up as work.

The agenda for today- a healthy breakfast of leftover chocolate silk pie, write up a few words for this here blog, hang out, turkey sandwich for lunch, head out with the family and buy a Christmas tree, set it up, dinner and bonfire with friends. I’m starting to get that tingly feeling again.