Memories of good Sax

March 27, 2012

I went out front to take pictures of my Dogwood tree blooming. It was a beautiful, cloudless day. The sun was low but not yet going down. As I started taking close-ups of the flowering petals, a sound drifted to me on the slight breeze…sounds…like…Jingle Bells?

Somewhere, close by in the neighborhood, a young music student was practicing his or her Saxophone outside.

What memories that sound recalled. As a kid, I had long arms and the music teacher suggested I play the trombone. I did, but I was always a bit envious of my brother who chose the clarinet, which led him to the saxophone. I remember going out into my front yard and blasting that silly horn. Playing the theme from M.A.S.H., and yes, probably Jingle Bells. The memory makes me smile. I should call my brother. Tell him I’m thinking of him. I hope he doesn’t mind I’m using his picture.

Sax Player '78

Click to enlarge



Today is my Dad’s Birthday. I want to honor him and thank him. He is a great man who has taught me so much. I am very lucky to still have him in my life.

Happy Birthday Pop!
Thanks for teaching me to love nature and animals. Thanks for showing me how to treat other people with respect and to demand it, if earned, in return. It’s because of you that I stand up for the little guy, never start but always finish a fight, and never used my size to bully. It’s because of you I can fix things, make things, and figure out how it all goes together. You taught me to be a man, to take responsibility for my actions, how to drive, how to throw a ball, and so many other things. You’ve given me a lifetime of wonderful memories.

Thank you!

Love Your Son

First Fish

Dad, Me, and my little Brother

Click to enlarge



My Dad (chapter 1)

March 23, 2012

First, you need to know, my dad is cool, and he was always cool. He was the original MacGyver, long before Mac was Mac. He once took a tongue depressor, a rubber-band, and some plastic from a bacon package and made my brother and I little sail boats when we were camping. One day I’ll blog about all the things he’s created to fix, repair or just make something better. It’s not enough to say he was a handy man. He was so much better than your average handyman. Still is at 77.

We grew up at the top corner of a cul de sac (court) which meant that while our front yard was small our back yard was pretty large for the neighborhood. Our yard was the ultimate hide and seek, army, and all around playground that the neighborhood kids would come to. Especially after my dad installed a drinking fountain! We had a sand box (dad built). We had swings and a slide. We had a fire pole 20 ft up into a tree. We had a Play house(a tree house on the ground) Again, Dad Built! But to this day, I’ve never met anyone who had a drinking fountain in their back yard. I love you Pop! I can’t ever thank you enough for an amazing and loving childhood. Thank You!

Dad buildin' stuff

drinkin fountain

You Paid What?

March 21, 2012

10 ft of kitchen counter – $15.00

2×4’s – $0.00

Screws, glue, and stuff – about $3 bucks

Spending time with Dad and building the desk he always wanted – Priceless!


My Dad has wanted a desk that spanned the full width of his office for years. He’s always balked at the idea of spending $100 to $135 for a 10ft section of Kitchen counter. But I’m always on the hunt for deals. Yesterday I was at Home Depot on an unrelated pleasure trip, and I decided to check the counter tops. I noticed one that was a little beat up and asked the girl working the aisle about it. She frowned and said “That should have been thrown away.” I Said “Hell, If your throwing it away, I’ll take it.” She went off to find her manager. Long story short, I paid $15 for a counter that had a crack on both ends. I only needed 9ft so I cut 6 inches from each end and it was perfect!

Dad's New Desk



My mom gets migraines. Real bad ones. My brother and his daughters suffer from them as well. I used to get them about 3-4 times a month. An interesting thing happened to me a couple years ago. I stopped eating yellow processed (orange) cheese slices and switched to the white. I love cheese, no really, I love cheese. I think everything is better with cheese.

Cheese Balls

Anyway, at the same time, I completely stopped eating Cheese Balls, Cheetos, cheese doodles, Doritos, and anything like that. Something amazing happened…my migraines almost completely stopped. It’s been at least 6 months since I had one. I don’t miss the headaches, but I do occasionally miss the cheese balls.

Yesterday I was shopping at Target and I found Cheese Balls made with white cheder and thought, maybe I’ll try these. No orange color, maybe no Migraine. I was wrong. The migraine hit so fast, and so hard, I had to wait to finish this post. Obviously I’ll be living without Cheese balls.



I had dinner with my parents tonight.  Yeah, I’m lucky. Not only do I still have both my parents, they like me enough to have me for dinner. Anyway, as I started to inhale some awesome tilapia, potatoes and green beans, I had to stop and quickly take a sip of my drink. That fish was hot…as in temperature hot. I suddenly realized I had never had a cold or even just warm meal at my parents house. I tried to think of anywhere I’d eaten that I could say every meal I’ve ever had, has always been hot. (excluding meals served cold, obviously) Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had wonderful, hot, and delicious meals at friends and family (frequently). It’s just that tonight, eating that meal, made me realize the parents meals are always unbelievably hot. Mom’s secret? I know she heats the plates in the oven before serving, but other than that she’s not tellin’.


February 27, 2012

“Everyday show your family how much you love them with your words, with your touch, and with your thoughtfulness.”

-Life’s Little Instruction Book


February 22, 2012

I’ve been asked what the picture is on my header. It’s a snowflake. One of my nieces saw it on her glove and asked me to photograph it.


Going Home

August 5, 2011

The worst part about going away is going home. Don’t get me wrong, I love being home. It’s just the thought of leaving the Bay, beach, mountains, or wherever my weekend takes me is depressing. I never want the good times to end. Can you relate?

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My brother and I were lucky. We always got two Easter baskets. We got one from the Easter Bunny at home, and then we’d go to our Grandmothers house down the road, and get another. That E. B. was better than Santa. I remember standing outside her front door, she had always set the stage, theater of the mind so to speak. There were convincing muddy foot prints on the front door, and grass trails that led us more or less straight to our baskets. One year there were raisins outside meant to look like bunny crap. I’m pretty sure they were raisins.

Happy Easter!

and on the back of the picture I found this…