We got our first snowfall of the season here on the coast last night. It was expected and the forecast and eventual snowfall dovetailed nicely. We got 2-3 inches of the fluffy stuff late in the day. We had all the time we needed to make the appropriate preparations in advance of the "storm". I tucked the bicycles and the lawn mower away in the shed and placed a large tarp over the top of the woodpile. I'll have to look at the forecast to make sure we're not expecting more so I can either remove the snow or let it go its merry way during the upcoming week. I went to the store yesterday as I do every weekend to pick up groceries and the like and the mood was festive but the pace was unusually frenetic. I fear that memories of last winter have not strayed far and that is to be expected. Losing one's electricity for the better part of a week can have a lasting effect and it is not something that anyone wants to repeat anytime soon. We are not, nor do we expect to be, owners of a spanking new generator anytime soon. We'll take our chances.



Not sure why but Evan got up this morning and made a B-line for the woods across the street. He apparently had an urge to take a pee out-of-doors and that is what he did. Once he returned, I assuaged what little guilt he might have had by telling him that taking a leak outdoors has its own rewards and some even say that it is one of one of life's unspoken pleasures. I went on to say that as long as he stayed out of sight when dropping his drawers that he would more than likely stay clear of the local constabulary and that would be a good thing. It is true that a moonlit night offers the best opportunity because you can see where you're going and you are almost guaranteed not to pee on your own shoes in the process. Daylight can be fraught with dangers so you have to pick your spots carefully. Better to be safe than sorry.

I'll need to get my arse on the treadmill here pretty quickly if I want to get my day underway. Not sure what I'll do for amusement once I'm up and going and I may, god forbid, have to settle for George Stephanopolous and his talking heads program. I love to listen to talk radio where politics is being discussed regardless of point of view. What I've never understood are those talking head types the likes of Letterman, Leno, etal. They are nothing but a bunch of empty suits spewing pre-packaged punchlines. They no different, in fact, than many of the drive-time radio personalities that I try to avoid each morning when driving to work. All I have to do is hear the slightest cackle coming over the radio and I'm punching the dial for another station. The cackle is a clear indication that he or she is laughing at their own jokes and engaging in some sort of delusional derision that has little or no basis in reality. I'm just not sure what value they think they offer the general public. Maybe it is a reflection on the public at large. God forbid.

It's nice to have food left but I'm not sure we're going to have a place to put it all. I ate sparingly of many things yesterday and had even fewer of those things that I know are not good for me. I stayed at arms length away from the mashed potato's, butter, white rolls, and sweet corn. I bellied up to some food stuffs that I have historically taken a shine to including stuffing, gravy, and choice gelatinous slabs of dark meat from the underbelly of the 14lb turkey that we provided for the get-together. I drank generously from a tall glass of pulpy orange juice and that satisfied any and all urges I might have had for something sweet and sassy. At a table equally divided amongst people drinking water and people drinking chocolate milk, I was in the minority but not feeling at all left out. By the time the pumpkin pie was served, I had no trouble whatsoever in having some very nice coffee ice cream with my pie and whipped cream. Evan ate heartily as well which is not his custom and he couldn't lay down fast enough when all was said and done. We suggested to him that he might want to consider purging the lot and coming back for more. Why should people with Bulimia have all the fun? Even today, Nancy complains that she had too much to eat. One thing that we didn't do was to give thanks. Then again, we never do. That doesn't mean we're not thankful.



Evan left me a note on the kitchen table the other day that read as follows: "Yo Homes, Going to Noah's, chillin'. Be back later. Hit the cell. All of which was followed with a drawing of a little heart followed by the word, "you". What are we going to do with that boy? As I sit here on a rainy day typing up a storm one key stroke at a time, I know he's at the mall because we "hit" his cell and he told us so. This is after a full day yesterday, a sleep over last night, and then on the mall for god only knows what today. I know he was very keen on doing something on Black Friday but he never expressed anything explicitly with me or his mom. He didn't ask for a ride. He didn't ask if he could go there with friends. He didn't ask squat. So I guess we'll see. Understand that he has our money spending genes, which is to say he has a hard time spending it even when he has it. I guess that's preferable to having it burn a hole in his pocket. If the worse thing you can say about our boy is that he's frugal, I can live with that. And then there are those timeless words offered up by Robert Frost, "And miles to go before I sleep. Miles to go before I sleep."

When it all starts to catch up with me perhaps as soon as early this afternoon, I will do what my other family members do less well but wish they could. That is to say, I will take a nap. I've always fancied a nice nap although I suspect early on in life it was an escape mechanism more than anything. I have a very clear recollection of being at my grandmothers house and laying down on the swinging couch on their porch with eyes closed while she ran her nicotine stained and knotted fingers through my hair at the temples until I fell fast asleep. She knew me well enough to know that sleep was indeed a refuge from life for me and she did what grandmothers do best. She did everything possible to assist me on my journey. While no longer an escape, it is a place that I am comfortable with and a place with which I have a history. You can't put a price on that. Not even on Black Friday.

Not sure where my inspiration is coming from this morning but if it's out there I'll find it. I'm kind of excited about having a few days off around the holidays and that I can't deny. Nor, would I. Who wouldn't be excited about a 2-day work week. Funny thing is, I take advantage of days like these to give my aching brain a rest. I make every attempt to turn my attention to things requiring little or no thought but requiring my attention nonetheless. If exercise is involved, all the better. Then, when I finally do go back to work I'm not suffering from mental exhaustion or lack of inspiration. So far, so good. As for the 2-day work week, what could possibly pop up that would ruin the rest of the week. I had a dream about being laid off last night and that might get my attention. The good news is, it wasn't from my present job so I'll not fret. Then again, dreams don't always make sense. I'd better stash a little more coin beneath the mattress just in case.



How cold does your house get at night? How cold will it get before you allow yourself the luxury of turning on the heat? I find that wearing a few more layers in the morning makes it that much more tolerable. When you know the temperatures are going to hit the lower 50's you can sit tight and just wait for it to warm up. I swear there are days when it's warmer outside then it is inside. This is a strategy that works well in the fall months but falls short during the winter months since the temperatures sometimes never get out of the teens. I would hasten to add that as much as I like the wood stove, using it every day makes it seem far less novel and even less enjoyable. So, until I have to use it every day I simply won't. I will resist the temptation to fire it up and will turn a deaf ear to my shivering offspring and darling wife.

For today, anyway, I have bigger fish to fry. Ev and I are doing a solo today and I will see if I can get him to spend a few minutes in his room tidying up. That is something he and I have never done and I'm not sure he'll be able to keep up with me once I get going. Just call me Johnny Whirlwind. That's my name, organizing the world is my game. I know, I know. I can't even keep my sock drawer in order. You know, socks to the left with darks in the rear, under-johnnies in the middle, and t-shirts on the right. Funny thing is, I have a very good sense of organization but, in practice, I am an abject failure. You can see my brilliance when I turn my attention to it, but it is usually reactionary rather than the other way around. I'm the guy you want to call in when things have gone to hell in hand basket. I am not your guy if you're looking for someone to make the trains run on time. That is just a fact. Maybe that should tell you something about Evan's room.

All the little boys and all the little girls are soundly asleep on this oh-so-fine Saturday morning before Thanksgiving. I've been diddling with my iPhone trying this, that, and the other thing to tune her up. And what a fine puppy she is. Even Nancy is smitten with the device. And she doesn't cozy up to technology easily. Of course, I have to have all the latest and greatest apps even if they push me over the 11 page limit. So some fine fellow, faced with this oh-so-vexing problem, created a very fine little app entitled "Categories." The app allows you to create folders to store all your little apps by category so you know where they are at any given time. All you need to do is to remember which folder you put them in. The best example I can offer is the folder I created to store all my radio apps. It is aptly entitled, "My Radios". I was a radio buff in the pre-digital world and it is no different now that I can play my internet radio anywhere, anyplace. It helps to have a Wi-Fi connection. Is the world getting smaller or is it my imagination?



We missed the opportunity this year to place our order for a nice organic holiday turkey. You know, the kind that doesn't ooze rivulets of saline and sugar at the first hint of heat. I'll pass on the pop-ups found on the frozen birds of the local grocery stores and rely instead on my own trusty thermometer. Call me old fashioned, I don't care. If I could have a fat free turkey, to go with my skim milk and whole wheat crackers, I might like that as well. Then again, maybe not. A buddy of mine won't buy beef unless it has a fat content in the 70's. "That's where all the flavor comes from", he professes in a Julia Child-like exclamation. I'm a 93% kind of guy and, quite honestly, prefer a leaner source of protein depending on the dish. I wouldn't much care for a bison burger, but I'll have it in spades in my chili. That may explain why my total cholesterol is 111. Keep those whole grains a-comin. So, I'm not sure what we have for a back-up plan for the bird. We may be able to snag one from one of the local meat stores who typically order an extra or two for folks like us who are just too busy to get it all together. One day at a time.

The Ev-Man has been invited to spend his February break with his friend's family in the fine state of Florida. Sweet. I think they're heading to a town adjacent to one of my favorite haunts at the very southern tip of that great state, Key West. Good for him. He has a lot to do between now and then and keeping his grades in check is at the top of the list. That boy needs to work to get it right. That is to say, it doesn't come naturally to him. He is prone to flights of imagination as are most young men his age and he's lucky if he can remember to carry home the right books and assignments on any given day of the week. There is only so much a parent can do to help their child when the child doesn't want to help himself or herself. You just worry, that's all. You worry that they are making wrong choices and not understanding the consequences. Oh, to be young and reckless again.

Yesterday was a lulu for sure. We rode our bikes to the furthest point near Atlantic ave in Hampton and Nancy promptly got a flat tire. You always laugh about the possibility of getting to the furthest point in your ride and breaking down. It makes the prospect of getting home that much more difficult. You can call someone if you happen to have a cell phone on hand and that would be a good thing. Maybe the silver lining yesterday was that I was with her on her ride. That is a rarity on a weekday but I had the day off so I was happy to be along not only for the ride but to do what husbands do best when their spouses are in a pinch. That is to say, they lend a helping hand. And so I did.



I agreed to walk her bike along the boulevard until she had a chance to ride my bike home and return in her car to pick me up. It was a delightful day with a bright sunshine and temperatures in the upper 50's so I was in my element. Of course, there is a fair amount of foot traffic along that route and yesterday was no exception. One woman walking her dog stopped long enough to ask me if I needed a lift after noticing that my bicycle tire was flat. Further down to road a car pulled up and the driver yelled out, "hey buddy, you know where I can find the local golf course?." Both incidents were odd in that 1) what woman in her right mind would offer a lift to a stranger in this day and age and 2) the occupants in the car asking about the golf course didn't look like golf enthusiasts in the least. It occured to me as I was hollering across the highway to them that they may have had other intentions so I was not otherwise bothered by the fact that I told them I didn't know the area well enough to give them directions.

My distraction of choice given my circumstances was to take as many pictures as possible with my trusty iPhone as I walked along the boulevard. I've decided that I will be posting a picture every time I post a blog and that picture will come from my iPhone photo library. The quality is reasonable and it adds yet another dimension to the blog that gives it a time and place perspective. Initially, at least, I plan to use photos taken along my bike route. As much as I hate to stop for the time it takes to take the picture, there are times when either the photo opportunity demands it or it comes at a time in my ride when pulling over while waiting for Nan to pull up the rear is not unusual. So, enjoy the photos. I enjoyed taking them and I wouldn't post them if I didn't think they didn't add just a wee bit to the site.

Lastly, when Nancy finally did show up to collect me and her bike, she was quite upset that she had run over my bike while pulling out of the garage. As she rolled won the window I could see the tears collecting in her eyes and I thought that someone had died. Alas, she did hit my bike but she was confused about the damage done. My trust Bianchi survived the impact and will live to ride another day. That is a good thing.

I have to laugh. There is another story in the Boston papers today about yet another perv who was caught groping a rider on the public transit in Boston. Not sure how all of that got started but it seems to be something of an emerging problem. It may be in some ways related to the more widespread use of cell phones and the cameras used by pervs for up-skirt shots and the like. What I'm less clear about is what the gropers expect to accomplish given that they have nowhere to go once the dasterdly deed is done. It's not like they can escape down an alley or anything. Is there an outside chance that they may find one or more of their victims receptive to their advances? Not likely. And the pictures of the pervs published in the local rags, well, not the types you'd bring on home to meet the parents. One perv was unfortunate enough to have his picture taken by a rider who caught him red handed. Since when does a handful of hoisery warrant taking that kind of risk? Maybe when you want to go off to jail for a brief stint but on your terms. Terms that are for no longer than it takes for a New England winter to lose its bite. Springtime in New England is full of promise and love is in the air. Next stop, Charlestown.

The National Health Care debate took a turn for the worse last night when the House passed their verison of Obama's healthcare reform. The Dems point to Social Security and Medicare as two models of previous democratic reform that have benefited Amercians since Teddy Roosevelt roamed the halls of the 1600 Pennsylvania Ave back in the twenties. They are not so quick to remind us that those two systems are and have been bankrupt for many years. They are also less than candid with us when they don't talk about the fact that this new plan will be extended to millions of illegal immigrants. I'll be damned if any money comes out of my pocket to pay for an abortion for some wayward Guatemalan barely a day or two over the muddy banks of the Rio Grande. And I agree with the repubs that the Dems have never run anything successfully so this is one of those run away trains that threatens to reduced quality, increase expense, increase the hand of government in the dispensation of medical care, and in the end, add to the rolls of government at a time when governement should be smaller and not bigger. Let's hope the bill dies a natural death in the Senate. Or maybe a wooden stake in the heart would be more appropriate.

Did I mention that the Ev man is not feeling well today? Maybe I should have prefaced that by saying that my medical plan is fully paid up for the year and I'm happy with the plan that I have. Were I indigent, I would certainly qualify for medical care and I would get my rear end right down to the local hospital where they would be required to treat me. That's the way it works. But, back to Ev. Maybe this is all in response to the damn shot he got last week for the Swine flu. Or, maybe it is a latent response to the regular flu shot that he got a couple of weeks back. He's just achy at this point and still asleep so we don't have all the facts. Not sure if he qualifies to be quarantined but we'll know soon enough. Getting him the care he needs will be our first priority and outside any plans Obama might otherwise have for him. This one is on us, Barrack. If we don't see the likes of Pelosi, Reed, or any of their bretheren at his bedside any time soon that will be fine with us. Can you say, "one term president"?

There was a good article in some AAA magazine that I read at the breakfast table this morning that kind of summed up how I feel about burning wood. The author was dragged kicking and screaming back to Maine by his wife who wanted to return to the home where she grew up. The author, who was left to his own devices while plying his trade as a writer, found solace in the act of chopping and burning wood, enjoying the kind of heat one gets from wood and not by simply turning up the thermostat. I've never thought of the process in these terms but the author goes on to say that "firewood warms you several times througout the year". It reminds me how uninvolved I really am in the entire process. I don't even stack the damn wood. The price of the delivery includes the stacking and, as such, I am deprived of those other times alluded to by the author. Something to think about in the future. Something primal to look forward to.

I'm not looking to beat this chili thing to death but I've been thinking about it more and more lately. What amazes me about the process is that even though I make the same recipe each and every week I find that the slightest alterations in the ingredients, the temperature of the stove, the sodium content of the diced tomatoes I use, the kinds of beans I use, can make a difference in how it turns out. I began by insisting that Nancy not do the dishes while my chili was on the stovetop for fear that some of the soap bubbles might find their way into my chili. Of course, I was quite insistent that my chili should cook uncovered but I am no longer of that mind. I've stopped using jalapeno' peppers altogether and now use a salt free spice concoction that I buy from the local health food store. But lately, I've discovered that I like my chili to cook a little longer just to let it all meld as it were. Chunks be gone! Not soupy, but rather a solid slop-like consistency seems to suit me just fine. And when it comes to adding this, that, and the other thing, I am more of a purist. For those people who like to add everything but the kitchen sink, you won't be getting any input from me. Just the usual ingredients, thank you. Enough to last for a week anyway until I make the next batch.

I didn't realize how much of a kick Evan got out of my driving and how my shifting differs from that of his mom. We're talking about my six speed standard and this is all coming from a fellow yet too young to drive but beyond his years when it comes to offering his insights. You would think that a lad his age might be more circumspect in his comments given that we decide when he gets behind the wheel and when he doesn't. All this time, I was of the opinion that I was the smoother operator when it came to going from one gear to another on my way to highway speed. I don't bother with 2nd and 4th gears. I'm just not in them long enough to warrant the extra wear and tear on the clutch. I even worry sometimes that by not using those gears that it will become less easy to go into them when I really need to. Nancy is under no such illusion. But she also drives my car less so is less adept at driving a standard although she prefers it to driving her automatic. But Evan regaled us all when we were visiting Nana and Da last night with his rendition of not only how it looked when we shifted but how the shifting sounded. Be careful, young feller. Your day is coming. Just maybe not as soon as you think.

"Riding the Pine" is the expression that anyone called up to varsity, especially as a freshman, is only too familiar with. It means sitting on the bench while the regular soccer season players have all the fun. I haven't quite figured out what value they think they're offering the lads since watching the game from the sidelines, no matter how you slice it, is watching the game from the sidelines. Nothing more, nothing less. Well now, here's a twist for you. Evan happens not to mind sitting on the bench and takes great pride in wearing the uniform of the varsity player. He is on the roster as a player; wears the uniform; attends all the spaghetti dinners; and isn't all that bothered by the fact he hasn't played. It certainly helps that his fellow freshman, also called up, hasn't played either. I guess it's more of a status thing. This is a fact not lost on the girls who chase all the varsity boys and don't much care who rides the pine and who doesn't.

It's getting to be that time of year. It's time to start thinking about making christmas lists, ordering holiday turkeys, moving summer stuff from the garage to the shed, and god only knows what I may be forgetting. Today is a good day to rake leaves. It promises to be cool but not too cold. It will help to take my mind off of things I should be thinking about that are work related. Maybe there will be time for everything today. Did I mention that Ev has a soccer game? I also have a good mind to make some chili which will come in handy around dinner time since we haven't much in the fridge. Remind me not to buy frozen calamari again. I thawed out a package of same last week and cooked them up in some of Nan's home made tomato sauce. I ate it but I didn't enjoy it. Life is too short to be eating just for the sake of eating especially when I'm doing the food prep. And how about that avacado I had with my chili last night? How is it that some avacados don't ripen? The color was terrific but the damn thing was hard as a rock. I should have known when I struggled to cut the darn thing open and nearly jabbed myself two or three times in the process. Next time, if I can't leave an indent in it with my thumb, it will stay on the counter until I can.

Hey, Denise, thanks for leaving a note on my blog. I dropped you an e-mail at the hospital but not sure you got it. If you are as busy at work as I am, you may have overlooked it and perhaps meant to get back to it but never did. Nonetheless, appreciate the note. Becasue you asked, Snow Leopard is the new operating system for the Mac. Not so new anymore but it was when I made reference to it. As to your comment about living on a farm, I'm not so sure that I'm cut out for that lifestyle. I have far too many chores that make demands on my time as it is and I live on a very modest parcel of land. I think my rule of thumb these days is that if I can't mow the lawn without using a sit-down mower, then the property is too big for me. I would like to have a larger house but we like where we live so there you have it. Lastly, when winter rolls around, I like to be able to use a wood stove to heat the whole house and we can do that so I'm good.

I told the Ev man that if it doesn't kill you then it makes you stronger. He was doing his best to think of reasons why he shouldn't accept the offer to join the ranks of the varsity soccer team when I told him, in so many words, to just suck it up. He is one of two freshman in the school who played JV and freshman soccer during the fall season only to be asked by the varsity to join the team for the fall playoff's. For a team with a record of 12-1-1, this is indeed an honor. One that he should not take lightly but one that certanly took a little more than the usual amount of cajoling by us to get him to accept. When all was said and done, and when I picked him up from the practice around 5, the relief I saw in his face, his emotions, and his demeanor, was palpable to say the least. As I reminded him as I dropped him off at the start of the day, it is never as bad as you think it is going to be. Fear may have gotten the best of him during the day as the hour of his first practice approached, but jubilation reigned at days end. It was a lesson that he had to learn himself and one that certainly required more than a modicum of courage. Courage he didn't know he had. That's the best kind.

Those damn Yankees. I hate those self assured bastards. They think that just because they have all the horses and all the kings men that they can put it all back together again. This time around, they want to be World Series Champs. They have the wind at their backs and a new stadium in which to trumpet their good fortune should they take the series as they believe they are indeed fated to do and perhaps even entitled to. To a player, I believe they believe this. They and their fans have been drinking the Kool Aid and you can see that they sense that this is their year. I'm not so sure. I think, and pray, that the Phillies are destined for a repeat of last year's World Series Championship. Wouldn't that be sweet. I might even take the day off to celebrate were that to happen. To celebrate that is, the Yanks loss. I want to see Steinbrenner and John Sterling crying in their champagne glasses and pissing off about how their team should have won. I want to see the Joba's, the A-Rod's, the Jeters and the Damons, all heading for locker rooms with the knowledge that they came so close but not close enough to win. It is the team I love to hate and that is the worse kind of fan. It is the only kind of fan I know how to be when it comes to the New York Yankees. How bout' a team hug, boys?

What do you do with boys who behave badly? Maybe the first thing you do is put it in perspective. Is the deed itself worse than the fact that the child disobeyed his parents? Or, is the act of slinging toilet paper in an act of retaliation shameless and abhorent to the point where it deserves a spanking of sorts. We're not believers of the time-old adage "spare the rod and spoil the child" so we're more likely to take away the toys. Take away the things he enjoys most so he knows full well that actions have consequences. Taking away the cell phone may well have the biggest impact and had that been considered beforehand then the deed itself might not have occured. The things you think about after the fact.

Clearly, we never anticpated that he would spend as much time as he does on the cell phone. His texting is and has been way out of control since we purchased the phones in August. The experts might tell you that to be connected in this day and age means reaching out in ways that seem unorthodox to those of us who grew up in an age when personal computers were new to the scene and ham and two-way radios were all the rage. That doesn't make it right. It does make it slightly more difficult to manage and getting your arms around his network of connections is just short of impossible. When and where we catch wind of absurdities the likes of which happened last night, we are quick to head them off. We are not always as successful as we'd like to be. Maybe these are oportunities that we as parents ought to be more appreciative of. No one was hurt. No property was damaged. The kids, all of whom are not known at this point, probably got a cheap thrill. But, you know how one thing leads to another. That's what our parents taught us.

We had our first wood stove the other night. Seems awfully cold awfully early this year. While writing in this here blog, a young buck strolled into our backyard looking nervous but stopped long enough to smell the grass and take a look around. He was maybe a two pointer with a fine coat and looking very healthy. He didn't stay long enough for Nancy to get a picture but maybe next time if there is a next time. Maybe he was on the run. It is hunting season after all. We've not seen any hunters down our road but they may be in the woods nonethless coming in from other roads on the periphery. Well, enough for today. I'd like to see the Angels beat the Yanks at least once while they are in Tinsletown for the ALCS playoff's. God, it would have been even nicer to see them go down in the first round. If there is a god, let them not win the World Championship this year. That is my prayer.

Seems they found a few skeeters down in Rye rec with triple E. They will be sraying down at Rye rec and at other public fields in town including Parsons field which is closer to our home than is Rye rec. But, not by much I might add. What sort of afliction is it, I asked my dutiful wife. She left me with the impression that it was those who survived who were the unlucky ones since they were neurologically impaired for life and probably prone to fits of relentless drooling. I would do my best to sneak up behind her while biking on Ocean Boulevard and mimic the sound of mosquito's until it was clear that she had had enough of my foolishness and she pedaled away in a huff of agitation. As for me, I will not worry myself to death about such things but might limit my time outside and fully expect to wait yet another week before doing any mowing. And to think that on such a fine and pretty pre-fall day that folks need to have their children stay inside or, perhaps worse yet, drench their little bodies from head to foot in some airborne poison just to keep the mosquito's away. bzzzzzzzzz.

I think a nice salmon dish sounds good for dinner, herr sweetness. And yes, broccoli as a side seems a swell side dish and appropriate to the season. I wonder if all of the hummus I've been eating will have ny long lasting effects. I can't stop eating it to be honest. I like it plain. I like it with jalapeno's. I even like it home made from time to time. I'm not sure that I could eat it wthout Wasa crackers but I would certainly be willing to give it a try. I guess I worry, not about the hummus itself since it is a chic pea derivative, but rather the calories packed in each mouthful that I may not be working off. Maybe, more to the point, it is the oil I am consuming with each mouthful. It is not the usual extra virgin olive oil I love but rather a cheap substitute that promises to foul my internal plugs like a quart of used motor oil in a finely tuned machine. I will try to eat less but can only do what I can do. So there you have it.

That's three cookies. One for each of Evan's friends when they're ready. There wil be two cookies left over and they should be put away. Those were the instructions I had from Nancy specific as they were. I will never understand the three per person business although she has been on that bandwagon for some time now so I am getting somewhat used to it. Funny thing is, the rule doesn't apply to me anymore as I don't eat cookies like I used to. Not even Nancy's cookies. Portion control can be a good thing so I applaud efforts in this regard. If nothing else, it will help keep the folks who are slim slim, and the folks who used to be slim from getting less slim. Seeing as obesity is a collective problem in this country of ours, all good efforts start at home and so it is in our home.

That's all I can say about a day as dreary as today. Just dismal. The question is, is it too this or that to go biking. If I'm lucky, I will get out on the road and get my miles in early today just so I can say I did them. Oh, the exercise is good and I hope to cash in on the endorphins but it's more the routine that I need to keep than anything else. Just as this is routine, writing in this here blog, and eating vegetables for breakfast right along with my Uncle Sam's, so is the biking business. What I wouldn't give for a little more sun though. Bring on the heat, damn it! If push comes to shove, I can always get on the treadmill. That is my winter activity and winter is coming to these here parts soon enough.

I think the iPhone is working out well. I'm using it regularly to text Ev and Nancy too enjoys jumping on the texting bandwagon. It is so unintrusive. They say that teens these days text their parents to keep in touch when it is otherwise uncool to speak to them on the phone. Granted, they are usually one liners, but the jist is there as is the contact. It's quite amazing how much one can communicate in the space of a sentence when one wants to. I would go a little further by saying that the children are sometimes not fully aware of just how much they are communicating when they text their parents. Sometimes, it may be what they don't say that grabs your attention. It may be how they say what they say. And certainly, it gives new meaning to the expression, "hanging on every word. " Hanging on every letter might be a more appropriate expression when it comes to texting. And to think that six months ago, I had never texted at all. Had never tweeted neither. And now look at me.

We're surprised to see the hummingbirds still hanging around. It's hard to tell if they are the same little buggers we've seen all summer long since they all look the same but they probably are. Nancy has been diligent in keeping the feeders clean and refilled throughout the summer so they have continued to grace us with their presence. Nancy enjoys them so I'm happy to see her hard work paying dividends. Although, I have to say, I'll get home from work on occassion and she will complain about the fact that they have not been around. No sooner does she get the words out of her mouth than I see one or more out of the corner of my eye on or around the bird feeder. That always gets her goat. It is a fact that they are seldom seen during the day so I've come to expect to see them in the early morning or early evening. It always surprises me when I see them coming to feed in the pouring rain. What's the rush, little fellas?

Not sure why but I got a very high-and-tight haircut that just didn't turn out well. I think the styist thought she was doing me a favor by getting rid of the last few wispy tufts still on top of my head. Little did she know that the entirety of my self image flowed magnificently through those few remaining strands. It was so shocking , in fact, that she went easy once the top was down to the skin and left just enough on the sides to give me that "friar John" look. If I had to characterize it in today's vernacular, I might say that it looks like a reverse mohawk. I have a good mind now to get me a pair of clippers and just buzz my hair every once in a while so that everything is even-steven. Yes, that is what I'll do. One last testament to the pain inflicted is that I can't bare to look at myself in the mirror after a hot shower. I clear just enough fog off the mirror so I can see what I need to see to shave. Oh, the pain.

Speaking of pain, the Mrs had her implant done today so she is resting peacefully in the bedroom while I slave away on our new version of Rapidweaver. All I can say is that the publishing facility better well work. Cyberduck was fun to use while it lasted but you need your apps to work as advertised. No fuss, no muss. You get the picture. It is otherwise a beautiful pre-fall day here on the seacoast and it is currently 63 degrees with a nice breeze and dry air all around. I'm listening to internet radio on my iPhone and I wrapped up just a little painting around the house in an hours worth of work. In the back of my mind, I'm thinking about what Evan might have for dinner and what I might be able to make him since his mom is otherwise out of commission. Some pasta dish might be nice. Maybe a tuna macaroni salad to go with his burgers. We'll see.

Uncle Wally sent me a text this past Friday telling me that he was going out for a boat ride on Lake George. And what a pristine day it was! If it was half as nice there as it was here, that boy was in for a doozey of a ride. The Ev-Man was playing JV soccer at St. Thomas and hadn't played a lick by half time. I guess the freshman on the team had played recently and were getting a much needed rest. As best i could see in standing on the sidelines, getting a few freshman in the game was just what the doctor ordered. The sophmores were getting there cleats handed to them by the boys from Portsmouth. I would have liked to stay but decided against it as planned since I wanted to get a bike ride in before the sun set. And, perhaps more importantly, I wanted to stop and pick up my Snow Leopard update, which I did. I've been playing with it ever since.

The Ev-Man got an invitation to a classmates birthday party last night out Exeter way. Didn't take him long to make an impression at St. Thomas, eh? And to think she was just turning 14. My goodness. He invited a couple of non-St. Thomas buds (Jeremy and Josh) and away they went. Well, not without getting a ride first from his mom. He was instructed to text his mum at the end of the night just to let her know he was on his way home. She laid awake with one eye open waiting for the iPhone to pipe up. I think it was decidely later than the 11 o'clock hour which , as we understood it, was the ending time for the party. Not that it mattered, but Nancy was tired and did want to hear from her son before going to sleep. I looked at the texts on my phone this morning and there were just a couple of quickie's but that was enough. Oh ye of few words. Then again, he was spending the night at a friends house so that was that. Or, was it.

I made a batch of chili this weekend which is what I had planned to do. I think it was not a top-notch batch but a batch nonetheless. I wonder if Evan will notice. The difference is the chicken sausage. It was not my usual kind but I bought it anyway since I was in the store. Oh, well. I've been eating it and it tastes good but not the usual good. I think I like the usual good better. Sometimes you have to stray off the reservation to see what lfe is like on the other side of the fence. This time anyway, the grass was not greener. Maybe next time.

Nan and I discussed speaking Spanish around our house and nothing but Spanish each and every Saturday. It doesn't matter that we don't know a lick of Spanish. All that matters is that we do it when Evan is around because it is, after all, for his benefit. He is the STA boy taking Spanish in his first year at that locally renowned school. He is the boy who was chosen to join the ranks of the JV soccer team along with a handful of his classmates. He is the boy who used to wear shorts but is now wearing chinos and polo shirts day in and day out. He remarked to me the other day that when the school had their dress down day recently you got a good glimpse of people's real personalities. And so you do.

And yes, folks, I am giddy with ideas about how to spend three whole days out of the office. never thought the day would arrive quite frankly. Work has been difficult and taxing to say the least. It takes every ounce of imagination and energy that I can muster just to fuel myself through the day. I love the work but the pace is daunting. It didn't help this past week that my co-worker was on vacation. I'll have some explaining to do when she asks what happened while she was away. I'm just not a good note taker. Perhaps she'll settle for a grimace and a grunt. Those she can have in spades if only I can find the time.

The Ev man is off to the lake house and Nan and I are on our own. there is just so much to do. I installed Snow Leopard yesterday so I'm still working out the kinks. It was a terrific day for a bike ride and that was thoroughly enjoyable. Now, I get to cut the lawn and throw together a batch of chili. Join me, won't you.

I am all at once saddened, amused, and befuddled, by the latest rash of deaths in the news. Deaths are no surprise and can be found without trouble in any daily rag in the country sitting in plain sight in the obituaries column. I'm talking about the high profile personalities with whom I've shared a parallel universe my entire life. People like Michael Jackson, David Carradine, Farrah Fawcett, and to a lesser extent, people like Karl Malden and Ed McMahon. The manner of their passing has not gone unnoticed and may well be consistent with the way they led their lives. Officials in Bangkok discovered Carradine hanging naked in a closet in Thailand with ropes around his neck and genitals - no foul play was suspected; Jackson had been administered a lethal cocktail of drugs not intended to kill the patient, just the pain of being Michael Jackson; and Farrah went out with a ravaging case of anal cancer-what does that tell us about her preferences-more than I want to know. You have all been as consistent in life as you were in death so I salute you. And for you, Malden and McMahon, shame on you for being character actors on deaths stage. Not that I expected any more from the two of you. Once a sidekick, always a sidekick.

Nancy has been taking great pride in her work this year on designing and maintaining various web sites to support local non-profit enterprises. The Little League site has been most demanding and keeping the slide show up to snuff (just to keep the theme alive) has been a chore. Sifting through the multitudes of photo's retrieved through Pando has been one chore I would not have had the patience for but she has been angelic indeed. I think her work is done for the summer but Evan has been chosen for an all-star position on a Portsmouth Babe Ruth Team so I suspect her camera work is not complete as yet. That aspect of her work is largely unrewarded and unrecognized but I sure do appreciate the fine quality of her work. The team picture of A&M Paint this year was astounding in its clarity and composure. I think she excels most at portrait work and she has a knack for it as is easy to see in the photos she takes. Bravo to her for her commitment to her craft.

Well, Mr. Finch. You certainly lived up to your billing. You appeared yesterday at our windows, fluttering, and seemingly half drunk with either knowledge of the future or from having sipped too deliriously from the local berry crops. We noticed you first as we were sitting in the front room, Nan eyeing puzzle pieces for Hollywood characters and the perfect fit and I, perusing the local Market Basket circular for deals on veggies and the like. Your wings nay have even touched our front window as you appeared one moment and disappeared the next. You were up, down, and all around. One minute you were in the front of the house, the next in the back of the house. But then again, so was I. Watching you, of course, and then again, maybe you were watching me. Watching, telling, signaling, and what, oh what, were you trying to tell me?

I considered the weather and thought that Evan might be in some kind of trouble. I looked at the skies and listened to the thunder in the distance and thought that we might want to reconsider our plans to visit the Whole Foods Market in Andover, Ma. We did just that but it had more to do with the swirling leaves and branches in the road than the yellow finch at our window. The storm never materialized and within the hour the sun was shining without so much as a hint that it ever existed much less threatened. As Nancy and I drove down to Portsmouth for coffee, we noticed that the air was clear and opportunities were everywhere to take pictures. Beneath a store's awning in the square stood a couple of bicyclists with brightly colored spandex and it would have made such a nice photo. It got even better when a woman next to one of the cyclists reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. That would have been priceless. The colors. The characters. The light. Both Nan and I agreed that we need to do a better job of carrying our camera with us.

But Mr. Finch, not to be denied, may have been trying to tell us that someone died. Yes, it's true. Mr. Gardella's brother, Steve, died yesterday. He was 93 years old. We only learned this late in the day when Nancy and I visited her parents and then it was too late to do anything. Mr. G was not inconsolable in his grief nor was he particularly sad in his portrayal of his brothers legacy. He recalled little but one thing he said was that Steve was a very good athlete in his day. Mr. and Mrs. G. should go to the funeral and Nancy should take them there. It doesn't matter that Nancy is also scheduled to take them down to Massachusetts in three weeks time to go to a family reunion. The only question is, will it be a one day trip or a two day trip. And, what will Nancy and Evan do when they get there. Maybe Mr. Finch knows.

It's the Fourth of July here on the east coast and the weather seems to be cooperating. Not that we have a big day planned, that's for sure. Nan and I got in our bike ride early but not so early that we didn't have to watch out for folks parked along Ocean Boulevard opening their doors and jamming our puppies. Or, worse. Rye's finest were ticketing along the ocean side of OB if you had no town sticker and it looked as though word had spread quickly since car after car with no sticker left abruptly as we pedaled by. Times are tough and no one needs to dig any deeper than they already are especially for something as silly and unnecessary as a parking ticket. Maybe they thought the town cops would be less inclined or maybe too busy to write tickets when they could be doing other things. Like eating donuts or ogling babes at the town beach. That's what I would be doing.

E is irritable as usual and more irritable than one might suspect knowing full well that he has already been invited to Noah's lake house for the day. That was an open question only fifteen minutes ago but is now resolved and that's that. Nan and I will be on our own for the day and I know we'll find something to do. I've been wanting to check out the Fresh Food Market in Andover so we might do that. I had a small hankerin' to do a little fishing from the shore but it's unlikely I will end up doing that. And, that's okay. As much as I'd like to hook and filet a beauty, I am just going to have to do that another time. I've got errands to run in downtown Portsmouth so we'll probably go that route. No surprises today. Please. And friends, do your best to look after Ev at the lake. Just look after him.

We never did get that garden in the ground this year. Looks like we'll be buying our produce rather than growing it. I've asked Nan to make sure that she buys me bison at the local farmers market here in town and she has been doing well in that regard as of late. I haven't told Ev that the chili that he's been lovin' as of late is made with bison and probably won't anytime soon. You know how teenagers are when they get the wrong notion in their heads. It just never goes away. Never stops nagging. Never gives an inch. I remember the time he saw me putting chili pepper in the chili pot and he thought I was throwing in red ants. He didn't have any chili for a couple of weeks. He could probably live with the fact that I use chicken sausage in the blend but it's better in the long run that I keep it all from him. I want him to get all the protein that the chili has to offer so it will be my secret.

The behemouths from Portsmouth beat the bejeezus out of our Little Leaguers from Rye (10-0). The bloody pitcher from Portsmouth was 6'3". The piddly little fella's from Rye never had a chance. I guess life just sucks sometimes.

The feeling was amazing when I first got up slalom waterskiing because I was trying so long to get it and I had bruises to prove my point. This is how it happened. It was August at 6:00 a.m. with my best friend Noah in Lake George, NY. Noah and I went out to our blue and white Sea Ray and started to uncover the cover that covered it and went to gather the skis and gloves and the sunscreen from out of the cabin with crust still on our eyes. Noah, my dad and I boated to Dunhams Bay and turned up the radio and dropped the rope into the lake; Noah jumped into the icy water and screamed with pleasure. For the couple of past years I have been doing two skis but this time my dad told me to do one ski; that’s what he used to do when he was a kid and I was hoping to carve a water wall as high as a house. Noah was going first so he jumped into the lake and went water-skiing. After his arms ached or he fell it was my turn. I jumped into the lake and didn’t show any emotion, because I knew this time I was going to ski with one ski. I put my right foot forward and my left in the slot in the back and my dad revved the boat. I grabbed the rope with both hands and then the rope went tight and my dad went. My water-ski started to go wobbly and then I had it straight and I was up riding the water like a jockey rides their horse. My dad went faster and faster till I was right in the perfect speed. It was so fun and right away I tried to go outside the wake and ride the glass outside the wake and I did! I was a natural. I was so relaxed and the wind was whistling my hair back and everyone on the boat was yelling my name. I am not even close to pro but I am pretty good, and I can make a wall higher than me and I am going try some tricks next season.


Three years from that August day I am now carving in the water with one hand and I am waving at the other boats, and trying to gap the wake all on one ski. I still look back on that day I went from skiing on two skis to one ski. I thought that I was missing so much when I was skiing when I went two footed skiing. Noah’s getting there, but I think he’s never going to make it this season.

E.B.S.
Red, La
March 10, 2009

I'm heartened by the fact that Ev got a "congrats" letter from St. Thomas rather than a "see ya later" letter. In case he had any notions about wanting to do his own thing it has now been decided. The good news is that his best bud is also attending the school come September. They can jump the bus, catch a ride with me, or find alternative means at their disposal to get there each and every day. It is a college prep kind of place with a heavy emphasis on sports and academics and not necessarily in that order. I'd like Ev to pursue a couple of activities and see where it takes him. He's a hell of a swimmer so that's number one. He's also developed into something of a badminton bad boy and has been referred to as the best player in 8th grade in his school. Who knew. He can't stop talking about the 68 year-old man ho showed up at his school recently and bested him in a 20-4 rout. I think he was quite incredulous at the fact someone that age could just walk in and do what he did. I know he stays after school to play and may even play during recess. I think that boy has found himself a passion. As a parent of an otherwise seemingly aimless adolescent, I couldn't be more pleased.

As I was checking out of the local natural health food store last night with my little baggie of oregano I thought to myself that if I were to fall in love with an herb it would be oregano. I just love that stuff. I will have to do a little research. It may have an effect on certain parts of the brain that may help explain my head-over-heels relationship with the herb. I could use a little something for endurance when running on the treadmill but that wouldn't be oregano. More likely, we would be looking at bee pollen. Maybe even ginseng. I'm just talking about an extra 10 minutes or so. Nothing serious. My body is willing but I get a little distracted after about 45 minutes and maybe it's just boredom. I thought loading up my iPod with music to run by would make a difference but that too only gets me so far. Maybe running isn't the elixir I thought it was. Anyway, I wanted to be more lavish in my praise of that elegant herb oregano when checking out but thought better of it. I made more of a mainstream comment to the effect that the price was right for sampling the herbs in their store. That, she understood and showed her appreciation for the comment with a smile. Not a come hither smile, mind you. More of a "come again soon" smile. It's the story of my life where store clerks are concerned.

Did I mention that I get to keep my job for while longer? At least, it looks that way. There have been all kinds of machinations in our business model as of late but not much that seems to put what I do at risk. Things could change tomorrow. I would not want to be looking for a job in this environment. There are too many people looking and too few opportunities out there. I will continue to do what I do and make an extra effort to provide more than the usual value. You got to do what you got to do to stay competitive. Maybe that means coming in earlier every day and staying a little later. Maybe that means forgoing lunch to do a few extra things at my desk. Maybe that means bringing ideas to the table in a way that increases my premium as an employee. Better to let the bum with no ideas and an eye towards retirement go at the end of the day instead of the other guy. I think I don't have that mindset. I like to work and don't see work as a timeline ending at retirement. Maybe I lack perspective. Maybe I didn't get the memo. Did I tell you that I got two bike rides in this month? I was telling my darling that on one of the rides that the notion of being cold never once crossed my mind. I was too busy chasing endorphins and enjoying the scenery. i wasn't the only guy out there on the boulevard. Dude.

Yes, we have a year to go and it is a road less traveled to be sure. We had a terrific holiday this year and all in all we survived the travel, the shopping, the family, and all the anxiety each and every one of those things bring this time of year. I feel pretty good about it all and quite satisfied that we saw the people we needed to see, we got the gifts that we deserved at the end of the day, and we accumulated the right kind of karma when all was said and done. Although I can't speak for my significant others, I will say that I made all the right choices relative to food over the holidays. I had no desire whatsoever for anything remotely refined, remotely unhealthy, or anything that I might have eaten long before I began the journey on which I now find myself. So, that's good. Or, as the yout of today might say, "it's all good."

I contacted a local farm here in town that sells bison and inquired about pricing and availability. I've been making chili at least once a week and have always gone out of my way to buy 93% fat free beef or even leaner when possible for use in the chili. I even add chicken sausage to the recipe which makes for a healthier and more diverse concoction. You can't tell the difference after adding all the spices and usual condiments (lowfat cheddar cheese, onions, etc.) after the fact. We'll see what the farm has to say but I'm sure to want to do business with them even if it costs more to do so. It is true that healthier food may cost more, but it is also true that you not only eat less of it but what you eat is better for you. Before I forget the other side of the equation, I should say that I signed up at the local gym for their year-end sale where they were charging $99 for a year's membership. My 10-mile a day biking trips during the spring, summer, and Fall of this year have now gone off-road.

Off-road has meant using the treadmill here at home. It has not been as grinding on my knees as I anticipated nor as painful in the day-to-day use of the machine. I worried needlessly about biting into family time but was otherwise insistent about getting in my time even if it meant forgoing dinner with the family. When you are a 9 to 5 kind of guy, which I most certainly am, you need to make sacrifices where necessary in order to get the job done. More often than not, the family waited and found other things to do while I put in my time just so we could sit down together. I'm not sure how getting an outside gig at the local gym changes that but getting it done before I reach my doorstep somehow seems onerous if only to me. Is there any relief for the wicked?

Nancy took the Ev Man and a bud of his skating at a local rink earlier today. That gave me a chance to catch a breather so I went to the gym and got some shopping done and just barely through the door at home before they returned. I must say the timing was perfect. It was a beautiful day here on the coast. Had it been a tad warmer, I would most certainly have gone for a bike ride. Can you imagine? It's probably not a reach to say that one can, if one wants, go for a bike ride each and every month of the year. That is not my New Years resolution by the way. Being the procrastinator that I am, I am still working on coming up with a resolution worth making. Put more aptly, it's probably more a matter of choice since there are lots of resolutions worth making. Writing more in this here blog works for me as I sit here doing what I like to do best. Then again, I'm thinking of taking up the guitar. We'll see.