Thanks. Giving.

Thanksgiving.
Giving thanks.
Giving.
Thanking.
Family.
Feasting.
Rediscovering a bond.
Feeling grounded.

We really enjoyed this visit.

Haunting the Halloween Spirit

When it comes to holidays, Halloween is a pretty creepy one. I am not big into Halloween like many people we know. It takes so much effort, so much stress, so much money, for basically an hour and a half of Hell.

Halloween has changed so much since we were kids. Going trick or treating with the boys over the last few years has been almost sad, when comparing generations...
I would venture to say only a third of the houses, if not less, had their porch lights on. And many had their porch lights on, and didn't answer the door. What's up with those people?!

Guilty as charged though. When it came to Halloween antics at work, I could have been the workplace Scrouge. Just not into it.

That being said, at about 11am Halloween morning, I began to see the day through the eyes of my 11 and 7 year old boys, and this deep dark Zombie like feeling began to creep into our bloody brains.

We hit a pumpkin patch. We listened to scary Halloween songs like the theme to Ghostbusters. We carved evil pumpkins and roasted the pumpkin seeds. We turned into Zombies; flesh decaying, blood dripping. We entered the Apocalyptic state of seeing demonic friends and taking candy from the hands of untrustful beady-eyed strangers.

Light sabers, chains and bloody knives in hand, we bravely ventured into the darkness known as Halloween Night....

Which truly is Hell.
Constant screaming at the kids to watch out for cars.
Stopping them from going to houses without the porch light on until you are hoarse in the voice.
Listening to the wails of tortured children whose mask is too hot or the costume is too itchy.
Stumbling down the dark streets with an aching inside, wishing a complete stranger would heed your hidden desires and hand you an ice cold beer. Or 12.

And then the carnage begins.
The kids beg and lie and eat more candy and chocolate than is humanly allowable just before bedtime.

They fight you over taking a shower, wanting to rather wallow in their decaying, bloody, Zombie like chocolate induced coma in their bedsheets.

Finally, after all the threats, tears and after a particularly dirty Zombie named Matthew needed not one, but 2 showers, it is bedtime.. And in mid sentence, the boys are asleep.

And then a scowling wife is saying in no way in Hell is a particular Zombie Dadman winking at her is looking sexy, and it's time to take 2 showers yourself, one hot and one cold mister!

Then laughs, and comes out wearing a Red Sox jersey and high heels... How do you like my costume she says?

And suddenly I see the beauty in this creepy Halloween Holiday!

Oh Happy Halloween!

I wonder what I'll be next year... I hope it's another home run. Wink Wink

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Black Cloud Lifting

Look at what I finally got back!

Five months. New transmission. New engine. One lawyer. Numerous certified letters and phone calls... June 2 - Oct 21...

Recap:
I paid my truck off on a Thursday.
The following Wednesday I lost my transmission.
That was the last week of May.
I got my truck back, but something was wrong. She was running really rough.
They said the truck needed a tune-up.
I agreed...

Long story short:
They cracked my block when they snapped a spark plug doing the tune-up... They would not admit they did anything wrong and said I needed to pay them $6600.00 for a new engine... Five months later and with the help of a lawyer, we reached a fairly agreeable settlement, and I have my truck back.

So far so good. About 200 miles into driving, and so far so good. She is running smoothly.

I am still not ready to recommend American Transmission to anyone just yet; I probably won't ever. I am still ticked at the whole situation, plus the condition my truck was in when returned. I am thankful though, that they admitted at least some liability and fixed my truck.

After driving a borrowed 4-door gold sedan, I am starting to feel a little more like myself again!

Today she gets a bath, and pending the results of a follow up appointment next week, hopefully this chapter can be considered closed!

...Black cloud lifting...

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The Common Cold

Feeling all scratchy and congested?

How to cure the common cold, Dadman style when cold medicine doesn't seem to work:

2 Cups of Michele's Chicken Broth
1 Swimsuit
Mofro on Pandora
3 Yuenglings
Vitamin D
and Sleep
Preferably next to a pool on a sunny day in Florida

Feeling Like Fall

Breakfast. Beach. Banana Bread. Bagel with Butter. Hot Cocoa. Hot Coffee. Big Waves. Big Smiles. Beach Pier. Ever-changing Skies. Pelicans. But Sorry Matthew, No Great Whites. This is Our Sunday Morning. Feeling like Fall. Flip Flops. Frisbee.  Florida Style.

A Chill in the Air

Finally, a chill in the air.

Best quote ever, as me and Matthew went outside -

Matthew: I want a shirt. I don't want anybody to see my nibbles

Missing Roseland Lake

Something about fishing in a pond with a fountain in Florida just doesn't seem right...

Son-Rise

I hope I never underestimate nor ever take for granted the impact of a cup of hot chocolate at 7am on the beach.

Flight 1322

Flight 1322.
Jacksonville to Baltimore. First leg of my trip to Ohio to see my sister.
Southwest Airlines. General Boarding. Seats are first come, first serve.

Aisle 20. Initially I chose the aisle seat, then opted for a view and took the window seat.

At first I was watching the people as they made their way down the aisle, but then I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable by staring them down as they were trying to choose a seat.

I grabbed a magazine and left it up to fate.

Suddenly the lights went out. As I looked up, it wasn't the lights, but a lady's big ol' black velour leisure suit ass backing into the middle seat next to me. I had on my reading glasses, so this big black velour ass coming at me was 1.5 times it's actual size.

It was a glancing blow off my chin. Down to my shoulder. Then a slow sliding progression down my arm, onto the arm rest, where she shimmied herself into, around and over her alotted seating area.

She was a plump woman. A soft, warm woman. Smelled like you'd expect a southern grandmother to smell; a mix of baby powder, White Rain shampoo, Juicey Fruit chewing gum, and that sort of hard to figure out stale smell that I can only attribute to her wearing an adult diaper.

It was after cordial greetings and pleasantries that I realized I no longer had use of my left arm. It's not that she was hogging the arm rest. Her upper arm was the size of my torso. Yes, I secretly compared, then double checked. The armrest was basically swallowed by her armpit and her right arm had my left arm pinned to my lap.

She had a very warm thigh. It was soft velour. And warm. And I suddenly had the horrific realization that I would not be able to allow myself to fall asleep during the flight. Not because I was afraid of having that reoccurring dream again where I am lunging into the air, popping bubbles with my mouth, but in fear of waking up with a huge, warm-thigh-induced erection. On an airplane.

We all have stories about the person next to us on airplanes.

On my next flight, I got hit by a lemon.

Happy travels!

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Black Cloud.

I Have The Kind of Luck That...

On Thursday I paid off my truck.
Yay!

On Wednesday I lost my transmission...

I've been told...
I have that kind of Luck,
that if they cut a woman in half,
I'd get the half that talks.

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Weekend. Post Jammers 2015.

Weekend. The First Weekend after the Jammers 2015.

There is kind of void, a sadness that settles in after Josh and the Jammers leave after such a great weekend. And this 2015 Jammers WAS great. Conditions were awesome. Seabreeze. Mid 80's. Winds around 13+ from the East. You could not have asked for a better weekend for Paul & Cheryl to host 30+ players from across the country and Puerto Rico to jam 8 hours a day for 3-4-5 days on the best beach in the world. Jacksonville Beach.

Here is Last Throw on Tuesday to officially end the Jammers weekend....Paul Kenny, me, Dave Murphy and Steve Scannell. We are still standing!

But this post is not really about the Jammers. It is about the first weekend AFTER the Jammers.

Josh has gone home. I went back to work. And now I have a 3-day weekend to recover and recharge my batteries. Feels like I have not seen Sportscenter in like 10 days. And holy hell, what happened to the Red Sox?!

Normally, I sleep about 5 hours of interrupted sleep a night. Last night, I slept 12 hours. Big smile.

Saturday Morning:

Michele asked: "So what are your plans for today?"
Me: "My only goal today is to finish reading my book."
(That is like 69 less goals than my typical answer on any given weekend)

So fast forward....

David needed shoes. Went to Kohl's. Shoe Carnival. TJMaxx. Academy Sports....It's a Memorial Day Weekend. Traffic sucked. I swear I hit 69 red lights and made 6.9 U-turns and I said the F-word every 6.9 minutes.

Ended up buying not only shoes and flops for David (because who's flip flop decides to break in store number 2 of 4?) but we also returned with a bag of pool toys for him and Matthew in exchange for him doing cat litter duty for the next 10 days... (yeah, says a proud Dadman, I know how to negotiate)

So now it's 4pm and I still have not even opened my book.

We are poolside, Beer in hand. Book in hand. Ahhh....

And I suddenly realize... I am physically incapable as a responsible Dadman to read a single page of my library book that was due last Tuesday. Never EVER buy snorkels for a 7-year-old and a 10-year-old and expect to read at the pool! We also brought a few squirt guns...

Relaxing has never been SO exhausting... sigh.

You can only imagine.



So, Carl, What do you want to do on Sunday?...........................................


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Feeling Like My Frisbee Player Self Again

Feeling Like My Frisbee Player Self Again

I saw a frisbee golf tournament advertised on Facebook a few weeks ago. A buddy of mine, whom I've known for many years was holding a small tournament on his property, Out Yonder, about an hour away. Hhhhmmm.... I don't know, I thought… but maybe...

You see, I have not competed in a disc golf tournament in about 10 years. Wow. Time flies.

Last summer, I hurt my knee on that very course being advertised. Since then, and only in the last 2 months I've played only 3 partial rounds. Which sadly means, I've only played about maybe 6 rounds in about 2 years... How can I even call myself a frisbee player? What gives me that right?

You see, Frisbee is my thing.

In Hawaii, as a kid, Little League was my thing. I loved baseball. Playing shortstop, and being a pitcher, that was my thing. I loved being recognized for my efforts I put into baseball. I cared about the game. It was part of who I was. I loved being on that ballfield. I felt like myself.

When we moved to California, I didn't have the success in baseball like I did in Hawaii. I still loved to play, still loved the game, but Little League only lasts til a certain age, and then it ends. When it came to HS Baseball, I was told my freshman year that I wasn't ready, and was cut from the team. I was devastated. I spent weekends in my pajamas. I had no friends until almost the end of the year. I never felt like myself.

But I found a couple of friends nearly as miserable as me, and we cut school, went to Miller Park or Folsom Lake, complained about how things sucked and we smoked pot. And we played Frisbee.

In 1979, two members of the Sacramento Wizards came to Bella Vista High School and did a frisbee demo at lunchtime. And only because it was 1979, I can use the term, and I fully mean it, “I was STOKED.” 

Frisbee filled that baseball void. I started playing Disc Golf, Ultimate; throwing Distance and MTA. I learned to delay. I began to feel like “myself” somehow again.

For the last 30 years many of my decisions in life were frisbee related. Many of my best memories are frisbee related. Many of my best friends are frisbee related. Ninety percent of the totes packed away in the garage are frisbee related.

I traveled to tournaments. I ran tournaments. I arranged trips, weekends, roadtrips, dinners, margaritas and girlfriends around frisbee. When I got married, I surprised Michele with our rings being tied to a SkyStyler. Even our decision as a family to move to Florida was based on frisbee. (Sorry Mom. Hi Paul.)

Living in Connecticut, I have so many great memories and so many close friends from playing frisbee for over a decade in New England as a member of NEFA. That was when playing frisbee felt like Family. And yeah, I felt like, Hey, this is Me. It was kind of like a confidence; an identity.

Let's fast forward and rewind to about 10 years ago. We moved to Florida. I played in a disc golf tournament when we first moved to Jacksonville. It felt cut throat and way too competitive. This time it was me saying, I wasn't ready. I was devastated. I felt like I had been cut from the team. From the sport.

 

So for the last 10 years I've let work, family, debts, and stress rule my life. Immersed in work, being a husband, a dad; being a provider. And never fully succeeding at any of it, it seems. Comparatively speaking, I've played a little Freestyle and recreational rounds of Disc Golf, but never fully committed to either.

So Friday night was kinda huge. Not able to fully explain it, but feeling Nervous. Totally overpacking  the night before. Loading the truck. Filling a cooler.

Waking up on a tournament morning….I savor the smell of an early weekend morning as everyone else is still in bed.

Then.......it comes back to me - it’s almost like a ritual....

McDonalds for 2 Egg McMuffins. Coffee steaming up the inside of the windshield from the dashboard. The smell of coffee in the truck is so different going to a frisbee tournament than it is driving to work. Getting gas. Getting settled in for that ride to a tournament.

Pyamids. Marston Mills. Buffomville. Maple Hill. Newport. All these memories come to mind.

Picking the right CD to listen to on the ride up there. Typically Sister Hazel. But not too loud. I want to hear my thoughts. I visualize the course hole-to-hole. The Anticipation.

Arrival. I park. I put on my cleats. Is it just me, or are your frisbee cleats the most comfortable shoes you own? I choose the discs I think will find the fairways, miss the trees and avoid the pond. If only I could putt, I say to myself.  I sit on the edge of the tailgate and pack my bag for the first round. It is so silent. And everything around me is so vivid – the colors are saturated and bright. Dan, I peed in your woods.

I take a deep breath. I say a quick prayer to say Thanks for this opportunity, and for Him to “show me the way in which to walk, for in Him, I have entrusted my soul…”  Yeah, I do that. 

And then I walked through the fence gate. I stopped, looked around and exhaled. What have I gotten myself into?

And suddenly I am my Frisbee Player Self again.

I take that first step forward. I hear my golf shoes crunch firmly beneath me.

And it feels great.

I've missed me.

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Birthday Boy

Silliness at Seven.

With a special thanks to AJ and UJ for helping our son learn the difference between email and US Mail!

Family Field Trip

Saturday morning. Had too much coffee too early.
Weather looked good. Checked out a few things online. Woke up the family, and said, "Come on, let's go."

First, we found our way to the SkyWay monorail. Pretty cool. Never did this before.

Got off and spent a few hours at MOSH, Museum of Science and History. Finally took advantage of the tickets I won in the raffle at the Golf Classic to Support Meals on Wheels.

Hopped back on the SkyWay and headed to Hemming Plaza. GastroFest 2015. Food and Beer. Two of my favorest things!

Great family field trip, family fun day!

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