Story idea

My wife loves Christmas music. I have about 4 cd's that I listen to over and over again on my iPod during the season. One is Jimmy Buffet's Christmas Island. While listening to it the other day, an idea for a short story or novella came to me.

What if Santa only uses his sleigh through the northern part of the Northern Hemisphere? What if when he gets to the Caribbean, he switches off to a canoe or boat of some sort?

Random Ramblings

This may seem like an incoherent rant, but its really a bunch of random ramblings.

Its Sunday evening & the Ravens are getting their asses completely kicked by the Colts on Football Night in America - how stupid is it for NBC to call their weekly broadcast that? Anyway, I expected this last Monday when the Ravens hosted the Patriots, but somehow, the Ravens damn near won that game & then decided not to show up tonight. Its 44-7 with 6:31 left in the 3rd & the Ravens just signaled a fair catch off a punt.

That game Monday night was great until the vaunted Ravens defense decided to act like spoiled little girls, especially Bart Scott, earn a bunch of penalties & piss away the win. Then, they completely showed their collective asses by saying how the refs stole the game from them, thus earning about $70K in fines from the league. Way to be classy, Ravens.

My friend Carlie is a huge fan, born & bred in Baltimore. She & I argue about the team - I say they suck & she says they don't. Believe me, they suck. I'm still a fan, but I have to call it like it is.

This weekend was spent in a state of flurry. At 3:15 PM Friday afternoonm, I recieved an e-mail stating the cub scout pack meeting for that night was being cancelled because of weather. It was raining & might threaten to freeze when the sun went down, but who knew? I had to feverishly call some parents & send out an -emial hoping I could get in touch with tall.

It was also my office's "First Friday" office meeting & happy hour. I had a few beers, listened to the bosses & chatted with some compadres. I was home by 7 or so. Wife didn't feel like cooking, so I had the liquid dinner. At some point, wife realized that son did not have a tie to wear the next day for his First Reconciliation. She & son ran out in search of tie. I passed out & somehow got the other 2 to bed.

This blog post is flaming out & so am I. Good night.

Impressive

A post 2 days in a row - this is impressive!

I'm very proud of myself this morning. If you happen upon my blog & are extremely adept at using html tags & other such web page design codes, keep moving. This is not for you. If you are somewhat technologically savvy, but can't program html, keep reading. This might help you.

I am a college sports fan. Especially football and basketball. I grew up in Fayetteville, AR, home of the University of Arkansas and attended Mississippi State University. I was at State when the SEC expanded to include Arkansas and South Carolina. Needless to say, I am a huge SEC fan. Since State is very strong in baseball, I guess you can include baseball to my fandom list.

I spent 5 years following graduation practicing in Jackson, MS, so I read the Jackson newspaper The Clarion-Ledger on a daily basis. Its the best way to keep track of State's sports teams. Their State beat writer is one of the best we've had recently. I suspect he won't last long but will move up to a bigger paper, just like the last one did. Both this one & the previous one have blogs which I read and occassionally comment on. There is a small group of probably 12-15 regular contributors to Kyle's blog.

Several weeks ago, someone illustrated how to use HTML code to post links, like I did in the paragraph above. At the time, I didn't write the directions down & now, I'm unable to find that post and comment. So, I Google searched & found this site which I used successfully for the first time this morning in a blog comment about State's bowl game opportunities. Hence, I'm very proud of myself this morning!

Mother of sons

I love my wife. Since leaving her job this past summer, I love her even more. She has been truly happy for the first time in several years. If there was any doubt the impact of that negative work environment on her, it has been erased by her happiness, her attitude and the things she's done for our children, for herself & for me in the last 6 months.

Still, things happen that make me laugh. Just now, she was taking our 3 kids and 2 friends to the library. Our 2-1/2 year old had gone outside ahead of my wife. He fell down our front steps. I heard him crying & looked out the 2nd floor window. My 11 year old daughter had him & he seemed fine, just scared. She's yelling for mom & I hear my wife say, "is he bleeding?" Spoken like the mother of 2 sons!

You Know Who Your Friends Are

This past June, my wife left her job of 7 years and became a stay at home mom. This is the first time in her adult life that she has not worked outside of the home. She does some light consulting on the side which pays tuition for our 2 oldest kids to attend parochial school, but she primarily does all the wonderful and not so wonderful things that a stay at home mom does. In addition to the 2 school age children, we have a 2-1/2 year old son.

For several years now, I've coached my daughter's soccer team each fall. My best friend's daughter is a year older than mine, so every other year our daughters are in the same age division and we coach together. Those are great years because my wife and I get along with the parents a grade up better than we do with the parents of our own grade.

The mother's of my daughters friends are basically bitches to my wife. I never thought much about it until this past soccer season when my wife relayed to me a number of comments made by these bitches to her. These women don't seem to have an issue with me or else they don't have the guts to say anything. I suspect its the later - I am no where near as nice and kind as my wife. If, for example, one of them made a rude comment to me, I'd be likely to say that was pretty fucking rude you stupid bitch, don't treat me that way. Whereas my wife says nothing and then internalizes the rudeness and pettiness.

Its been worse this year because of the Working Mom battle. All these bitches work, though two of them work part time and one of those from her own home, similar to what my wife does. My wife believes these women feel like they've been betrayed by my wife for leaving the work force and becoming a stay at home mom. What my wife chooses not to publicize is that she still does work, doing her consulting part time and from home. These women believe that all she does is take care of the home and our children.

One of the many bright spots here is that we now carpool with a friend of our's who lives across the alley - he takes our 2 kids to school with his 2 & my wife picks all 4 up after school. They all attend the same school at least for this year. His middle child will be moving to high school next year. Many days, his kids hang out at our house & play or do their homework. He is divorced, but his ex lives literally across the street from him. However, he and his ex are about to remarry other people. To make matters worse, the ex is pregnant and will move to another part of the city. These 2 events are causing his kids some manner of angst, as you can imagine.

The older of the 2 has really began to confide things in my wife. The daughter tends to confide things in my daughter, who then relays them to my wife, when appropriate. Obviously, the more important items are relayed to the father and sometimes the mother. My wife and I speak frequently about how great it is that these young people are comfortable with my wife and she feels like she has 2 additional children sometimes.

Anyway, the point of this post is that I just returned home from some errands with our boys. My wife and daughter are running separate errands and are still away. There was a beautiful bouquet of flowers on our front porch addressed to my wife. The card says "Thank you for loving my children as much as you do. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving." Its signed the ex and the 2 kids. In all the BS we go through with our lives, children and the hassles, rudeness and pettiness other parents, its days like today that make you really see who your friends are. We do not have a close relationship with the ex, but she obviously is a friend of our's who we respect and who respects us probably more so in return. We do love her children not because of her or the father, but because of who they are - they are wonderful, smart and thoughtful children. I'm glad that she recognizes what they mean to my wife and to our family.

To all who read this, take a moment to count your friends and your blessings this holiday season. Take a minute to call a friend or send a bouquet of flowers. Its these little gestures that make us feel alive and bring us closer to our Maker.

Labor Day Ride - the Finale

View of the main drag in Eureka Springs, AR

Its like a little Swiss village in the Ozarks

There are plenty of little pubs to eat & drink in

The Basin Spring Park is a popular hang out for musicians, artists & hippies


The street is lined with little shops.
There are usually lots of bikes in town

We found a little shopping bizarre

Embarrassingly enough, I took no pictures this trip in Eureka Springs & neither did anyone else. These are from our last trip to ES, the Labor Day ride in 2005. Nothing changes much in the town. It looks almost the exact same as it did when I first started going there regularly in 1988. Shops go in & out; restaurants & pubs changes names; the rest stays the same.

We got to Eureka Springs on Sunday in the middle of the afternoon. We parked & walked the main part of town for a while. I had been looking for a winter's hat all trip long. Almost bought one at Turner's Bend, but couldn't figure out how to get it back without mashing it. I didn't really find one in ES either.

A couple of funny things happened right off the bat. We ran into my sister's friend Liz & her family. We chatted for a while & then started discussing places to eat. The last couple of times my sister had come over on Sunday, Bubba's, our favorite BBQ joint, had been closed. Liz suggested a place called The Rowdy Beaver. Clearly a double entendre - Beaver Lake is nearby. We thought that was funny & decided we might eat there.

We stopped for fuel & I bought a 6-pack. My parents were shocked - blue laws in Arkansas forbid the sale of alcohol on Sunday, except in restaurants & private clubs. The guy at the counter didn't even look twice at me. I argued that obviously the legislature has made an exception for tourist areas, like Eureka Springs. Either that or the town or Madison County has passed counter legislation okaying its sale on Sundays.

As we neared Bubba's, it appeared to be open. We couldn't find good parking for the four bikes, so we had to move on. As the photos indicate, we are in the mountains & parking is a premium. We moved on & ate at The Rowdy Beaver. Food was good, beer was cold, service was poor. 2 out of 3 ain't bad I guess.

We finally got settled into our rooms around 9:00 PM. I beat my sister at Rummy & we went to bed.

We arose early & Dad & I found the continental breakfast in the lobby. It was pretty weak, so I had a banana & coffee. My mom is not a morning person, so we were a little slow getting it all together. Plus, she travels heavy & has a lot of gear to get together in the morning. My sister, brother-in-law & I were hanging out by the bikes chatting with a Harley rider & his wife when we heard a loud crashing noise. I looked over & saw a VW bug hurtled down the hillside & hitting a tree at the bottom. We all ran over through the underbrush to see if the driver was okay. The car was empty, thank God.

It was nice little Baja model - high fenders, mud tires, no lid on the engine compartment, steel roll cage to protect the engine, bright yellow. We looked up the ridge & saw a man about 60 looking visibly shaken & a couple of other people trying to help. Soon a police officer showed up & we went on our business of getting our gear ready. We speculated what had happened. He could have had to stop short to prevent a rear-ender, had the brakes look & bail out before it rolled down the hill. That wasn't likely because it looked like he came perpendicular to traffic & down the hill. The most likely scenario had some combination of being in a parking lot across the street & somehow the car got away from the driver & he bailed out before riding down the hill.

As we checked out of the hotel, the lady at the desk said the driver had been in a parking lot across the street & was trying to roll start the bug. For those that don't know, VW's of the 1960's & 1970's vintage had notoriously poor electrical systems with a generator, not an alternator like cars have now. The battery went dead frequently. You then had to roll start - put the car in neutral (they are all manual transmissions), push it to get it moving, hop in & close the door, put the clutch in, shift into 2nd gear, drop the clutch & engine compression will cause the motor to start. The generator will then recharge the battery. Having driven a 1966 & 1967 bug in addition to my sister's 1971 Super Beetle, I've done this a few times myself.

Clearly, the car got away from the driver, he bailed out & it crashed down the hill. We suspected that he could have driven it out of the under brush; VW's are tough & damn near impossible to destruct. But, a tow truck arrived & the car was pulled out of the brush & back up the hill.

The ride back to Fayetteville was nice, but short. If you hoof it, you can make Fayetteville in 45 minutes. My friends in high school & I have done it. We took about 2 hours & a less direct route. I then went to the used book store for a while, lunched at my favorite spot Tim's Pizza on the square & we headed to Dallas.

Dad & I rode historic Highway 71 through the mountains. After spending the weekend in Newton & Madison Counties, it seemed tame. Plus, the last 40 miles is across Interstate 40 to Salisaw, OK where we meet my mom in the truck. As we trailered the bikes, I decided next year we should take a western route through OK that will drop us in Salisaw & avoid the boring & occassionally dicey interstate riding.

Joe Torre

I live in Baltimore & I am a baseball fan. But, after 10 straight losing seasons, I cannot say that I am an Orioles fan. However, I hate the New York Yankees. More correctly, I hate their fans. Jeter, A-Rod, Bernie Williams, Mariano Rivera & the rest - I like the players. I have attended several games at Oriole Park at Camden Yards when the Yankees are in town. I find their fans to be the most vile, contemptable, rude, and inconsiderate fans in the world. I could be wrong having no experience with English Premier League Football, but its a close second. I refuse free tickets to games if the Yankees are in town. The last time I attended a Yankees game, a fan had on a black t-shirt with orange letters that said "Baltimore Blows." It took until the 5th inning, but the jerk finally did enough else to get removed from the park by security. There's no place in our National Pastime for that sort of action. Their fans' acts are weak. I wish they could just leave their money at the county line & go back to New York.

What happened today to Joe Torre is a travesty. How can arguably the most widely known and supported professional sports organization in the world insult the manager who led them to 12 straight post-season appearances & 4 world titles with an offer in excess of $2.5M lower than he made this year? A one year deal ladened with incentives? What the hell does 12 years & 4 world titles earn you? In my mind, it earns you the gig for as long as you want it. In the case of Torre, a man of impeccable character & unapproachable skill as a manager, it earns you the back door. A man of Torre's integrity & character would know when it is his fault they didn't win & step down. Instead, he knows, like the rest of us, that his lack of winning it all is due to the front office, not his skill as a manager.

I say Torre was shown the back door because Steinbrenner clearly does not have the guts to fire the man. He chose to make such a low ball offer that Torre could not accept it. Steinbrenner can then go to the fan base & look like a hero & try to make Torre look like the one who didn't want to be in New York. Its disgraceful & insulting to anyone with integrity.

Torre clearly wanted to be in New York. His press conference showed that pain & the anguish of leaving a team that he loves. Steinbrenner is a pig & should be spurned, spit on & insulted by every person who calls himself a Yankees fan. Any self-respecting New Yorker should see that Steinbrenner stands for all that is wrong with the city & America in general. He stands for greed, ignorance, blaming the other person instead of yourself, failing to work as hard as you can to win.

Torre stands for honesty, integrity, hardwork, self-sacrifice & not placing the blame at other's feet. I hope Torre manages again & I hope its in the American League East where he can beat whoever is tapped to replace him. I hope its with the Orioles. Oh, wait, no I don't. He won't get the support from their front office either. I also hope that when Cooperstown calls, he does not enter that shrine in a Yankees uniform.

Cell Phone do's & don'ts

The proliferation of cell phones has caused an interesting conundrum to many of us. I'll cite some examples. For the most part, I'll leave the whole driving & talking thing alone.

How rude is it to be in line at a store or restaurant with an employee taking your order, your money, etc. & you are talking on the cell phone? I mean, hang up the freaking phone & deal with the person who are trying to get some food from rather than continuing to yap to someone in some part of the city, state, country, world.

I was in Starbucks one morning this week & the lady in front of me was completely ignoring not only the cashier & barista but also her young son, probably 4 years old, while she yapped incessantly on her cell phone. The child was thoroughly bored, but behaving himself while the cashier repeatedly had to get the woman's attention, using both verbal & physical gestures, to give her the change, her muffin & finally the coffee. The boy got nothing.

Oh & then there are the elderly people who have a cell phone because their kids gave it to them. They have no idea how to use it, so it sits in their pocket or purse waiting to ring loudly. This usually happens in church. A couple of months ago, right at the beginning of mass, a lady's phone rang & she either couldn't hear it because she's deaf or she chose to ignore it. It rang the usual 5 to 6 times & then went silent. Following the responsorial psalm, it started up again & again, she did nothing. Finally, during the homily, she didn't attempt to silence it, but got up & left mass to take the freaking call. I guess whoever was on the other end is more important than God.

The use of cell phones in the restroom is very disturbing, but I'm not sure I want to get into that here.

With the advent & wide-spread use of blackberry's & other smartphones, a whole new set of challenges, etiquettes & faux pas have emerged. I am relatively new to this technology. I traded in my clam-shell-type phone for a Motorola Q smartphone in August 2007. I love the phone, but I find myself incessantly checking my e-mail on it. I have 3 accounts linked to it - my business account, my personal account & the web master account for my CSI chapter. My wife & I also text each other a few times a week. A friend of mine several weeks ago threatened to take my phone away just to see what would happen. It was at that point that I realized I was addicted to checking my e-mail on it.

Believe me, I don't get a lot of e-mail traffic. During football season, my fantasy leagues give me 1 or 2 updates a day on the personal account. CBS Sportsline is "enough said" for anyone who uses them for their fantasy leagues. The web master account gets next to no traffic. I usually have 1 or 2 e-mails each morning when I wake up on my business account. I occassionally get a couple across the evening as well. I use it for more than just business. All told, on an average day, my business account gets maybe 30 hits & that's mostly during business hours. I guess I'm still enamored with the connectivity of it, so I keep checking it.

I've noticed in public & at seminars & in meetings, a lot of people will ignore whatever is happening, whatever conversation they are in & bust out the blackberry to check e-mail. The more I watch this, the ruder it seems to me & the more disturbing it has become. I have made a conscious effort to not do this, to stay connected verbally & physically to the outside world.

I do have one men's room story - the other day the gentlemen in the stall next to me was punching away on this blackberry with such speed that it was almost the 40-50 words a minute I can type with 10 fingers, not just 2 thumbs. There were no pauses - the keys were clicking for close to 5 minutes straight, so he wasn't just checking mail & responding with 3-5 word answers. He was clearly penning (or thumbing) a novel over there.

Anyway, if you read this, please think about what you do, when, where & how with your cell phone or blackberry. Take a week & look around at how other's use their devices & the rudeness that can come from breaking simple common courtesies.

Providence always trumps Rudeness

Note from Author: as the first line states, this post was written as a Word Document 13 days ago. Before I got a chance to post it, I had laptop death. Its just recently been recovered & I have a chance to post it now. I did some minor editing to remove any beer-fogged confusion.

Its 7:00 PM EDT on 4 October 2007 & I’m high over the Earth somewhere between Atlanta and Baltimore returning from a conference in Charleston. I’ll have to post this to the blog later. I flew to Charleston on Monday & thought I had the rudest person next to me on that flight that I had experienced in a long time. Not since my 11 year old daughter was 18 months, have I experiences this type of rudeness. I try to select aisle seats on planes because I like to stretch my legs out in the aisle & they are easier to get in and out of with less disruption to other passengers. As I was late checking in, I had to take a window seat. I was in my window seat before her arrived for her middle seat, so I had a front view as she took extra time to hurtle her carry-on beside my seat & force her other carry-on into the overhead, all the while other passengers stood & patiently waited because she was taking up at least three rows while doing this. She sat, I had on headphones listening to the complimentary XM satellite radio & we ignored each other. It should be pointed out that I always ignore others on a plane because I’m not interested in idle chatter. Call me rude if you will, but I’m frankly not interested in what others have to say, which is a topic that comes up later.

When we finally landed in Charleston, the person in the aisle stood & bum-rushed forward to get the hell off the plane. A row or two opened ahead of this, so the woman in the middle seat stood & moved over to the aisle seat. After a time, I stood & was probably a little over zealous in removing my briefcase from under the seat in front of me. It brushed her arm, ever so slightly. I apologized & she said nothing. As she moved forward to get her case from overhead she offered to let me go first as I “was a little too hyper.” This was a true "what the fuck moment." I said or did nothing to her the whole flight, when we land I accidentally brush her once & now I’m being hyper. I buy cheap airline tickets. My office buys cheaper tickets. I was on row 29 of a 31 row plane – I was going NO WHERE & neither was she. I wrote this off as advanced rudeness.

I am now on row 31 of a 31 row plane, on the aisle. When I reached for my laptop, I found a purse belonging to the sleeping woman next to me on my side of the space beneath the seats in front of us. Those of you who have travelled will understand that there is a metal bar barrier that separates one seat front from the other. This woman has used up hers & is not just encroaching but usurping mine. Unbelievable. Granted, I don't travel that much; I fly maybe twice a year. Those who are reading this who may fly more regularly, may experience these things all the time. I find them part of the systemic rudeness that has gripped our society.

Fortunately, this last episode was preceded by one in Atlanta-Hartsfield Airport that might be a first for me. In a rare fit of luck, I did not have to change terminals in Atlanta. I can’t remember the last time this happened. When you fly discount airlines in the middle Atlantic & southeastern U.S., you have to connect through Atlanta. On Monday, for instance, I flew into terminal D & out of terminal C. This sounds innocuous, but in less than 1 hour, it’s a little hairy. Today, I flew into gate C8 &, no shit, I flew out of gate C6, which happened to be right next to a bar. I checked the big board at gate C6 to make sure my flight was on time & decided to have a beer.

This is when serendipity takes over. As I stepped up to the ropes that separate the alcohol from the rest of the terminal, an older lady, probably approaching 60, stepped up behind me. The waitress fairly demonstratively asked me if there were 2 of us. I said there is now. Deborah & I were placed at a table with Phyllis, whom had been there a while, drinking martinis. She was quite intoxicated, but for 15 to 20 minutes, the discussion flowed. We all learned each others names, where we live & where we were headed. Phyllis was probably 70, so Deborah & I humored here. Fortunately, she had to leave & Deborah & I resumed sober talk.

Deborah had missed her connecting flight due to miscommunication & a need to visit the lady’s room. She was flying from Orlando to Akron to visit her daughter & grandchildren. When she got off the plane in Atlanta, she needed the facilities & mistakenly overheard that the plane to Akron boarded just over there at the next gate. She went to the restroom & upon returning to the gate, learned that she had to change terminals. She missed her flight by less than 10 minutes. Her genuine tears earned her a free ticket on the airline & an Atlanta t-shirt, plus a three hour stay in the terminal. That would put her in Akron at close to midnight. I saw my mother in her eyes when she said this cost her four hours with her grandchildren. This is Thursday evening & she was flying back to Florida Sunday morning.

She asked what I do for a living & upon hearing I am an architect, her expression glowed. Her 13-year old grandson has expressed interest in architecture & neither she nor her daughter knows where to guide him. I spent the next 20 minutes advising Deborah on what to suggest that her grandson take in the next 4 years of high school to prepare him for college. I told her I was about 13 when I realized that I wanted to be an architect. She said he’s good at math; I was good at math. What I missed out on in high school was art; basic freehand drawing from nature. She was surprised to hear this. I suggested that he take as much art as he can. I told her my great-uncle who is an architect suggested the same for me. I didn’t like the art teacher at my high school, so I didn’t take the classes.

Deborah asked about computers; don’t most architects draw using computers. I told her yes, but an important skill is to be able to look at something in nature & draw it from hand. That lends itself to the idea of being able to design from your own mind. She asked about books. I said any history of architecture, any freehand drawing book, but not mechanical drawing; drawing from nature is best. I also mentioned my silent mentor, Sambo Mockbee & his Rural Studio at Auburn University. I explained what Sambo was trying to do & his unfortunate passing. I also pointed out that these books were expensive - $75 or more.

I felt happy to help a young person enter our profession. At 13, history tells us the chances of him making it to be a registered architect are slim. I was about 11 when I decided I wanted to be an architect. I entered architecture school at age 18. I graduated from architecture school when I was 23. I was 31 when I made it. Why can’t this young man make it? There is no reason & who am I to not help. At the conference I just attended, we were told that our purpose on Earth is to leave it better than we left it. It was a sustainable design conference, so that was a typical sentiment, but its right. I felt it my duty to the profession that I love to help others enter it as prepared as possible. Twice Deborah said to me that I was the reason she missed her flight. That thought resonates with me; especially as a Catholic who believes in a calling, in vocation & in providence.

And then there is this

My pirate name is:

Iron Harry Vane

A pirate's life isn't easy; it takes a tough person. That's okay with you, though, since you a tough person. You tend to blend into the background occaisionally, but that's okay, because it's much easier to sneak up on people and disembowel them that way. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

I like it! Sorry the formatting is kind of screwy. The site didn't give me good code & I can't program in HTML!

Talk Like a Pirate Day

Back to the balance of the bike trip later, I need to find photos of Eureka Springs anyway.

I discovered through a sports blog (go figure) that today is Talk Like a Pirate Day, so I went to their web site http://www.talklikeapirate.com/ Very interesting. Anyway, I took a personality test & they gave me code to place in my blog. Here it is:

You are The Cap'n!

Some men and women are born great, some achieve greatness and some slit the throats of any scalawag who stands between them and unlimited power. You never met a man - or woman - you couldn't eviscerate. You are the definitive Man of Action, the CEO of the Seven Seas, Lee Iacocca in a blousy shirt and drawstring-fly pants. You’re mission-oriented, and if anyone gets in the way, that’s his problem, now isn’t? Your buckle was swashed long ago and you have never been so sure of anything as your ability to bend everyone to your will. You will call anyone out and cut off his head if he shows any sign of taking you on or backing down. If one of your lieutenants shows an overly developed sense of ambition he may find more suitable accommodations in Davy Jones' locker. That is, of course, IF you notice him. You tend to be self absorbed - a weakness that may keep you from seeing enemies where they are and imagining them where they are not.

What's Yer Inner Pirate?
brought to you by The Official Talk Like A Pirate Web Site. Arrrrr!

So, there you have it - I'm The Cap'n & all this time I thought I was a Leo!

Labor Day Ride part 2

View of the lake at Petit Jean State Park

I took several pictures of the lake & this tree. Some with my camera, some with my Mom's more expensive camera. I like this one; plus, the one's with Mom's camera are much larger images, so Blogger has some issues with them.

While at Petit Jean State Park, my Dad decided to nap. Note his head is on my Mom's leather chaps & his hat is shielding his eyes from what little sun is coming through the trees. His boots are off & he was clearly asleep! The snoring gave him away!

We got to Clarksville right at dark. My sis & I had bootlegged beer into a dry county, but all the ice in the small cooler had melted. We re-iced & waited for it to cool. We all re-grouped in the pool at the motel. It was cool & nice, but reasonably crowded with other families with small children. I especially liked the 19 year old in the Confederate Battle Flag bikini.

Regardless of the company, all six of us cooled in the pool & talked about my cousin who races bikes on tracks. He's raced maybe 6 or 8 times & was scheduled for "track day" that day. Track day is when each rider gets used to the new track but doesn't race or participate in timed trials. According to my cousin, no one wrecks on track day. Until Saturday, September 1st. He wrecked & broke his collar bone, again. The bike is fine, but he's done for the season. That dominated the conversation in the pool & hot tub later. Of course, the young man is 26 years old & can make his own decisions about his bike & his body, so his parent's grousing about it does little good.

We eventually moved to my parent's room to play Rook. I was a novice & no one told me the complete rules, so my aunt & I lost to sis & uncle. We played probably 6 or 8 hands & then went to bed.

The next morning we tried the Continental Breakfast at the motel. It was ok, but not great. Mostly, I had coffee. We talked with some folks from Witchita, KS who were passing through, heading to Tennessee with no real agenda other than Monday, September 10th 8:00 AM they had to be back at work. It was a little cool this morning & I knew we'd be heading into the Ozark National Forest, so I put on the long-sleeved Turner's Bend shirt. My Dad harrassed me about it because, in his mind, the pig was riding a Harley & he thought Leroy would take exception to that. I assured Dad that Leroy & I had reached an accord about the shirt.

We left the Arkansas River Valley up Hwy 23 & then turned onto forest roads to wind over to Haw Creek Falls camp ground. I hesitate to publish the name of it here because it is one of the few unspoiled areas in the Ozarks & I'd like it to stay that way. It is somewhat difficult to find, but does show up on maps that show the state campgrounds. If you see this & travel there, please respect the wilderness. Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints. Unfortunately, not all do so - we cleaned up several beer cans & a used diaper from the area around the falls.

When I was in my teen years, there were no paved roads to it, no toilets once you got there & no picnic tables, trash cans, etc. It was primative camping in one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. There are maybe a dozen camp site spread around a loop dirt road.

View down the loop road at the campground

Squirrell camp was always at the end where you can see the picnic table

The Falls at Haw Creek, dried for the summer

What little trickle there was at Haw Creek Falls

The only thing that had changed at Haw Creek Falls was what I mentioned above. They recently built compost toilet buildings, put in picnic tables & trash cans. Still very primative - no showers or running water of any sort, no power, no RV hook-ups. There were several groups of campers there. When we used to go, there were none. We would go to hunt squirrell in the valley. They were plentiful this day, though we were not hunting. I was reminded of the day that Dad killed a squirrell. We went to the falls to clean it. Right then & there, I decided that I was not to be a Great White Hunter - I simply could not stomach the cleaning of the animals.

I was reminded of the beauty of the place. I was reminded of the nights spent under the stars & the camp fires & the stories & the friends. My friend Perry Jon is now in Iraq with the Arkansas National Guard. His father, Jerry, led the same unit in the original Desert Shield. Jerry died a few years ago, but its a shame that he was not allowed to finish the job in Iraq when he was there in the early 1990's. Now his son has to be there, leaving a wife & 2 children alone in Arkansas. It was a bitter sweet occassion.

Jerry was the leader of the squirrell camp, a realtor from nearby Dardanelle. Dad began going when Jerry's sons & I were too young to hunt. As we got older, the group dwindled. Most moved away from Dardanelle or just got too busy. Dad loved those weekends & I loved the few times I went with him when I was old enough. There's one famous story of a weekend when it was just Dad, Jerry, his sons Perry Jon & Kimble & myself. The dads warned us not to play in the creek, but we did & came back with wet boots. Kimble burned his boot laces trying to dry them by the fire!

We left Haw Creek Falls too soon, but I promised myself, silently, to return within 2 years with my father & children to observe the beauty of the place where I used to camp. My father wrote a story about the place that mentions taking his grandchildren there. When my 2 year old is a little older, I'll make sure Dad takes his grandchildren there.

We took forest roads on over to Scenic Highway 7 & turned north towards Jasper & Harrison. My brother-in-law was to meet us in Harrison for lunch. This is a view from Highway 7.

View from overlook off Highway 7, south of Jasper

Me leaping over the rockwall at the overlook after retreiving a water bottle that fell off the wall. Environmental friendliness ahead off personal safety

From Harrison, we said goodbye to my uncle & aunt, who headed back to Kansas City. We backtracked down to Jasper so we could take the route south of the Buffalo National River over to Kingston, up through Huntsville & finally into Eureka Springs, where we stopped for the night.

This was a great ride that reminded me of boy scouting days. We passed the entrance to Camp Orr, the summer camp of the district. I spent a week there several summers in a row. The camp is on the Buffalo National River. There are large fields on the river's edge for archery & other activities. The camp sites are up the hill away from the river. I once did the Mile Swim in the river. That's much harder than doing it in a pool - one lap you are swimming with the current, but then you have to turn around & swim against the current.

My troop would canoe at least once a year on the Buffalo River. We would typically borrow the scout camp's canoes, put in at the camp & then canoe a few miles down river & take out at Pruitt, near Jasper. Many memories of great camping came out of this ride.

Labor Day Ride

Just back from the annual Labor Day motorcycle ride with my family. This year, I flew into Dallas on Thursday. Dad & I rode Friday afternoon from Plano, TX to Atoka, OK where we trailered the bikes on up to Fayetteville. It was a nice ride, but a little boring on US 75. I had the Goldwing so I was surfing radio stations the whole way. Found the local country station in Sherman & listed to it for a good bit. We finally got to Fayetteville, AR around 10:00 PM.

The Kemp Crew at the foot of Mt. Magazine, AR

Saturday morning dawned clear, but a little cool. We left Fayetteville around 8:30 AM & headed out Hwy 16 down what is called "The Pig Trail." It got that name as the favored route for college students at the University of Arkansas travelling home to Little Rock & parts east. It was quicker & less travelled than US Hwy 71. The Pig Trail puts you on I-40 at Ozark well east of Alma where 71 catches I-40. However, with the completion of I-540 several years ago, neither route gets that much traffic anymore and the roadway shows! Its a little rough, but the switchback curves are great! My sister & I frequently took the curves faster than the old folks. Of course, they are both riding 2-up & sis & I are singles.

It was a great ride! We stopped just south of the Hwy 16-Hwy 23 junction at Turner's Bend for a break. Mom bought us all t-shirts advertising Turner's Bend & The Pig Trail. Mine is black & long sleeved with a snarling pig on the back, complete with earring, do-rag & thumbs-up sitting straddle handle bars. Very cool. I almost bought a black cowboy hat, but resisted as I couldn't figure out how to get it back without crushing it in a saddle bag. My uncle especially liked the gal behind the counter wiggling her butt to the classic rock station on the radio!

Crew plus bikes at foot of Mt. Magazine

I'm 2nd from left with Leroy. Dad is next to me with the 'wing.

Uncle & Aunt with the new BM'er are on right

We continued on down State Road 309 to climb Mt. Magazine, the highest point in Arkansas. Lunch was at the lodge on top. What a beautiful view from the top!

View from the top of Mt. Magazine at the lodge looking south

Upon leaving the lodge on the mountain, I promptly ran Leroy out of gas! I knew it was going to be close, but neither Dad nor I could remember the mileage when we last filled up. Leroy can go around 130 miles on a tank. We last filled up somewhere around 20 miles from Atoka, OK before trailering the bikes at Atoka. At that time, I was riding the 'wing & Dad was on Leroy. Fortunately, Leroy has a reserve tank. It took a few minutes to pump the gas down from reserve, but he soon started up. Sis was leading with strict instructions to hit the first station at the bottom of the mountain!

Falling back down into the Arkansas River Valley, the temperature shot up to over 90 degrees. We rode over to Petit Jean State Park, which is up a slightly shorter mountain. We rested there for probably an hour and a half or so. Then we contined on to Danville & into Dardanelle where we crossed the Arkansas River & into Russellville, the first town I remember living in. Not much has changed in Russellville recently. We ate dinner at Whattaburger, not the chain, but the original drive-in owned by the Feltner family. Great burgers. Last stop of the day was in Clarksville about 20 miles west of Russellville.

Two problems: 1.) travelling west at sunset is brutal! & 2.) the Razorback football game kicked off at 6:00 PM so every state trooper on duty was patrolling so he could listen to the game on the radio! We must have seen 4 or 5 in the 20 miles between Russellville & our motel in Clarksville.

Funny story though. Just outside of Russellville, we crossed a levee that forms the southeastern bank of Lake Dardanelle & protects Russellville proper. Dad said that his dad, Grandpa Kemp, was driving the water truck for the construction company that built the levee. As work progressed, the bank became too steep to safely drive the water truck on. Grandpa got into a tiff with the foreman over it. The foreman insisted that the slope be watered down by truck & would not listen to reason. Grandpa turned the truck around so that as he drove on the slope, the driver side was high & he locked the door open. When the truck began to roll, he stepped off the running board & let the truck roll off into the dale below, just as he knew it would!

Been a while since I posted. Summer has come & gone - school starts Monday. The 10 year old is cautiously optomistic to go back to school, but the 7 year old is set against it. In June, my wife left her job of the last 6 years to stay at home. The life of a Director of Alumnae Relations at a private women's college is frought with late nights, weekend meetings, low pay, you name it. Burn out started about 3 years ago, but with the birth of our third child in 2005, it embebbed slightly. We also had to wait for her love of the College to not be outweighed by the crappiness of the job. That reached a head in fall of 2006. She finally made the decision in winter & tendered her resignation to the college President in March 2007; giving 3 months for them to hire her successor. The successor started July 15, 6 weeks after my wife left. What a freaking joke that place is! Anyway....

The summer has been good. My Construction Specifications Institute chapter hosted the National Convention in June. Lots of work, but a very rewarding experience. I was slightly sorry to see it end. I played part time on 2 different softball teams - office & Church, but mostly office. We travelled to Dallas & Arkansas in July to visit my family. Spent a few days with my great uncle, also an architect, at his new home in Heber Springs, AR. Beautiful place - sits on a high bluff overlooking Greer's Ferry Lake. My wife was not too impressed - she's a city girl who grew up outside of DC. Greer's Ferry Lake is about 1-1/2 hours outside of Little Rock, AR, a town of about 250,000. She was a little out of her element.

Of course, the hotel accomodations didn't help. My parents didn't want to impose on Uncle Mike & his new wife, Miss Max, so we got rooms nearby. Now, this was the days immediately following the 4th of July, so rooms were scarce. Technically, rooms are scarce at Greer's Ferry Lake anyway. We stayed at a fishing lodge - metal spring beds with thin mattresses & few towels. But, for $30 we could have joined the Yacht Club (that was the name, no lie) & drank in a dry county. The 2nd night, a transformer blew so the entire area lost power. The party from the Yacht Club spilled out into the parking lot complete with Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison tape on a truck stereo. It was a disaster.

But, we survived. The trip was probably 2 days longer than it should have been, but we took the 7 year old to see the Transformers movie - awesome - & wife, 10 year old & I saw Harry Potter & the Order of the Phoenix at midnight when it opened - also awesome. Actually, the freak show was probably better than the movie.

Soccer practice started this week. As I said, school starts next week. Fantasy football draft Wednesday, Miss State plays LSU on Thursday, the same day I fly to Dallas for our annual family motorcycle ride over Labor Day. Busy, busy, busy.

Red Box

I'm not sure how widespread the DVD rental "Red Box" is nationwide. Here in Maryland, most McDonalds have 1 either inside or in the parking lot somewhere & some grocery stores are starting to add them. The concept is genius - put in a credit card, type in an e-mail address, scroll through some menus, pick your movie & it rents for $1 per day. They instantly hit your credit card for the first day. Then, every 4 or 5 days you have the movie, they hit it again. After 24 days, you own the movie. No late fees, no phone calls, no BS. You can return the movie to ANY Red Box, not the one you rented it from. Bar codes tell the machine what movies it has available to rent.

Last week, I had 2 movies to return, so I did it on my way home from work. When I got to my favorite Red Box at a nearby McDonalds, there was a line ahead of me. A mother with 2 4-5 year old boys was just finishing up. There was a man and a woman, separately, ahead of me when I stepped up. I witnessed what could be called the Red Box syndrome. The man asked the woman & me if we were just returning, since we both had DVD's in our hand, or were we also renting. I was just returning as was the woman ahead of me. At first, I thought the man was being polite & was going to let us go ahead of him. This ended up being the case, but he also questioned us about what we were returning & if it was good, knowing that if he wanted it, it would be instantly available, unlike at video rental stores where the clerks have to check everything back in to their computer system.

I happened to be returning "The DaVinci Code" which was excellent & told him so. He then stepped over to a car where his lady was waiting & said, "he's got "The DaVinci Code" & he says it was real good!" Not sure if he rented it or not, but look out for the Red Box Syndrome in your area!

The Creative One

Last night, my mother-in-law took us out to dinner to celebrate my wife quitting her job. Long story, more later.

Anyway, Amy chose Macaroni Grill, a family favorite from way back. We arrived at 6 & were given an hour wait with the little remote thing. Had a couple of drinks in the bar, pestered a couple we sat next to for 30 minutes & then finally were seated.

Jen, the mother-in-law, breaks out a game on the paper table cloth - she draws a short line or squiggle or something & then the kids complete the picture. After we did worms, whales, ears, smiley faces, Amy draws a zig-zag of lines. Will, the 7 year old, draws long lines from each end & the connects the long lines at the bottom like a large building or something with a jagged top. He then draws a square on top of one peaks & some colored in cirles down from the zags.

As we all try to guess what it is, the waitress comes over. Will announces that it is a mountain with a porta-potty on top!