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As I was sitting here working on my laptop, my desktop’s current screensaver (the very nice Mosaica btw) fired up and started its usual process of streaming photos from my Flickr account. Of the many photos I’ve taken, the group that always gets my attention are the pictures we took at Glacier National Park, particularly those on the famous Going to the Sun Road.

It’s not that the photos I took were of any outstanding quality (and for the record, this photo that perfectly encapsulates that drive sadly isn't mine.) It’s simply the memory of a seemingly perfect day that they always bring back to me. The weather was beautiful with vivid blue skies. I was relaxing with family and exploring a new place, yet enjoying all these spectacular views from the comfort of familiar settings (my mom’s CRV, which is virtually identical to our own.) Everything about that day was fantastic.

And the road itself was spectacular. While I don’t mind enclosed heights, I’ve always had a bit of an aversion to open heights. So something like driving on the outward edge of a cliffside road with drop-offs of a 1,000+ feet often only a few feet away would seem like something to avoid. Maybe it was the dumbstruck awe you get from the breathtaking surroundings. Or perhaps the confidence you get from being in control of the vehicle (or the fact that there were 2.5’ tall barrier walls most of the way.) Either way it never bothered me at all.

Or maybe it was due to past experience. We’d visited family in Colorado in previous years and experienced numerous mountain roads and passes during the course of that trip. But most of those were actually fairly tame. However, one particular road will FOREVER stand out in my memory – the not-as-famous Million Dollar Highway (i.e., the road from Silverton to Ouray.)

While we had been with my immediate family for most of the trip, this was a portion of the trip which Holly and I were to experience alone. While waiting for our family to arrive in Silverton via the train from Durango, Holly and I planned drive up to the “nearby” town of Ouray. We knew there was a mountain pass involved, but we’d already done a few of those already - no biggie we thought. However, as we began our ascent up the pass (and on the outermost edge of the road for the record) we quickly came to realize that this was not going to be like our previous experiences.

Gone was the beautiful weather we’d previously enjoyed – a steady rain was falling making the road notably more slick. Gone were the guard rails which we’d come to take comfort in on other roads. Gone in fact were the white lines on the side where the road had literally crumbled away in various sections.

We began to consider turning back, but there was literally nowhere to turn around. We were committed so we had to ride it out to the top. After witnessing the crumbling white lines I was beginning to experience a bit of an endorphin rush and starting to take a perverse pleasure from the whole experience. Holly, however (three feet closer to the edge and able to literally look down the side the entire way) was not as thrilled.

As if to add unnecessary punctuation to the experience as we neared the top, we rounded one corner only to have to slam on our brakes to avoid an oncoming car which was using our lane to pass road workers repairing a section of the road. A little warning sign would be nice. Or at least a fresh pair of underwear.

We finally made it to the top. However, we decided we’d rather not go all the way to Ouray since we’d have to go back down the other side of the mountains and then do the WHOLE pass all over again. So we turned around and made our way back down the pass from the relative comfort of the inside lane.

Pictures were the last thing on our mind that day. Yet the experience was so visceral, I’ll never forget it. Still I hate that we were unable to snap any pictures to give people a visual clue for what the experience was like. A search on Flickr turned up photos, but almost always on sunny days and never in the more treacherous sections of the roadway (because it’s pretty much impossible to find a spot to pull over to take a photo via car.) However, I finally stumbled across this photo which does give a hint of what it was like that day. Picture riding along this for several miles from the oncoming lane. Good times.

Holly's been doing a good job with the family updates over on her blog. Which is a good thing since I've been so busy of late (and trying to unplug a bit more when I get home these days) that I don't have as much time to update like I used to.

Anyway, I just caught up on uploading about 5 months worth of photos over on my Flickr account if anyone's interested.

One John Mayer song that's always resonated with me is the somewhat unheralded 83. In the song, Mayer reflects longingly on the times when he was a young boy in 1983. Since Mayer and I are almost the same age the theme really hit home.

And this week I've been able to live that theme out a little - at least on my lunch breaks. For 4 out of 5 days this week I've ended up heading over to my parents house for lunch. Now I'm a good son and love my folks, so I'll usually I'll pop in once a week. But circumstances (including my girls being over there twice this week) just seemed to draw me over a little more often than usual. And after some extremely busy times at the office of late, being at home has provided a much needed escape.

But during one trip back in time this week I was jolted by the announcement that an icon from my childhood was going to literally be torn apart. The old 'pirate ship' from our neighborhood's central park is scheduled for demolition tomorrow.

It's not just the fact that I spent many hours of my childhood playing at the park that has me saddened. It's the fact that my dad was the one largely responsible for the park (and particularly the ship's) creation. The original neighborhood builder had left the land undeveloped. But my dad was the one who actually got the ball rolling to develop the area by designing the entire layout for the park. The fence, the pavilion, the swings, the soccer field and (the centerpiece) the pirate ship. It was all his baby. And together with several other neighborhood families we built it all ourselves. So obviously the news that it was to be torn down didn't exactly fill me with joy.

I decided to visit the old ship once more on lunch break today. It's actually still in remarkable shape for being over 25 years old. A few boards could stand to be replaced here or there, but overall it was still extremely stout as I climbed aboard. In fact, Holly and I were so impressed with its condition and the general facilities of the park the we had actually been considering it a possible location for Laney's birthday party. But I guess that idea is now off the table. Even if they replace the ship with a more modern playground (which I doubt they'll do given the cost) it just wouldn't be the same.

Oh well. Thanks Dad for all the hard work and the memories. They were worth it.

I'm still a couple months behind on getting our family pictures uploaded to Flickr. And unfortunately I haven't got Holly (our resident shutter bug) whipped into shape to use Flickr yet. So if you're curious to see more up-to-date pictures on the girls you can always check out Holly's blog.

However, this moment was too cute to pass up, so it got bumped to the front of the line. Jessica has actually been taking a few steps, walking around pushing carts, etc for a couple months now. But she honestly has just never shown much interest in walking. She can do it, but as soon as she realized you'd let go of her hand she just plop to the ground and take off crawling at high speed. But apparently the light bulb went off today and she decided it would be fun to start trying more.

It's been a rather eventful year for me on the medical front. First I got to experience the worst stomach bug I've ever had (along with the rest of my family.) And as you may or may not know, I recently got to experience the physical joy that is a kidney stone. Let me just start by saying - ouch.

I was a bit wound up Sunday night and was already having a hard time settling down to go to sleep. To make matters worse, I started to feel a dull, but fairly intense pain emanating from the lower-right portion of my back around midnight. I thought it was just stress or general soreness, so I put some Icy Hot on it and tried to go to sleep. But the pain would not subside (nor the constant burning desire to use the restroom.) After an hour or so of constantly getting up for seemingly pointless trips to the bathroom I decided not to risk waking Holly anymore and headed down to the living room.

The frequent trips to the bathroom continued and the pain intensified. By 3:00 I had set up shop on the bathroom floor and was beginning to get genuinely concerned that this was something which would at least require a trip to my doctor and possibly even a trip to the hospital (other than a few stitches I've been able to avoid the hospital most of the time.) By 3:45 I couldn't take it anymore, but couldn't move to get help either. Writhing on the bathroom floor in pain I pounded a nearby step stool onto the hardwood floor trying desperately to wake Holly on the floor above (one of the few times our sleeping with a fan on has its drawbacks.) Holly heard my racket and quickly sprang into action calling my mom over to take care of the girls so we could rush to Brookwood (sorry Shelby Baptist, we just know Brookwood a little better.)

The ride to the hospital was agonizing as every minor bump and turn revealed a whole new world of pain. We pulled up to the emergency room and as Holly quickly signed me in the nurse already attending to me in another room knew instantly what my problem was as I described the symptoms to him. "You're having a kidney stone" he said. "My wife's had 3 kids and 2 kidney stones and she says she'll take the childbirth every time." Great. Thanks for the pick me up. Fortunately an IV was soon administered and the pain killers quickly took the edge off of the worst of the pain. I was carted off for a CT scan and the doctor confirmed the nurse's original prognosis. She said it would be small enough to pass without surgery or having to break it up with sound waves. They gave me a prescription for pain killers and sent us home.

Our stop at Walgreens on the way home took a little longer than expected. While Holly was inside waiting for them to fill my prescription I felt the veil from the pain killers administered at the hospital suddenly disappear and the agonizing pain quickly started to build again. I headed inside intent to knock aside any cold-suffering wuss that might be standing between me and sweet relief. Fortunately we were on deck and the pharmacist was finalizing my prescription just as I walked up. I shotgunned the pills there at the counter and we headed home so I could try to get some long overdue sleep.

While I was asleep, another doctor called back to inform Holly that my appendix appeared to be enlarged. He said if I experienced anymore pain it would be a good idea to bring me in rather than chance an appendicitis. As I awoke from my nap I at first thought all was well. But the pain quickly returned and even the addition of more pain pills couldn't fight it off this time. We rushed back to the hospital (another painfully bumpy ride from my perspective even though Holly was driving as smoothly as she could.) After a couple botched attempts an IV was finally administered. An hour later I was carted off for another CT scan - this time focusing more on my appendix. I also had the added joy of having my pain killers wear off again mid-scan during this session. So I had to sit there and try to hold still while intense pain started to shoot through my body again.

After the scan the doctor informed us that my appendix, while enlarged, was not inflamed. "You've just got a big appendix." Yay me. He said the worst of the pain should subside once the stone gets into the bladder and that it was small enough that it should pass relatively easily. He gave me an extension to my previous prescription for pain pills (alliteration alert) and sent us on our way home again. I continued a steady regimen of pain pills for the remainder of the night and was feeling significantly better by 10pm when a double-shot of pain pills quickly put me to sleep.

On Tuesday morning, the stone passed without any fanfare (other than a quick drug-riddled hallelujah from me as I looked down into the filter they gave me to use in the bathroom.) After the cloud from the pain killers began to lift I headed back into work after lunch (although I still felt a bit off from the medication and couldn't concentrate so I ended up leaving a little early.)

A big thanks goes out to my mom and our friend Lisa for coming over to help take care of the kids while I had to be rushed to the hospital. And of course, a HUGE thanks to my wife Holly for helping take care of me throughout the entire ordeal. I've usually been on the other side of the equation when it comes to our adventures in the hospital, so it comforting to have her be there for me.

I was going to post a picture of the stone, but we don't have a good macro lens yet. Plus, after doing a quick search for kidney stones on Flickr I started to feel like a girly man in comparison to some of the stones shown on there. For comparative purposes it was slightly larger than FDR's ear on a dime (about the size of about 80% of the stones from what I've read.)

Still, it was amazing that something so tiny can cause such an intense amount of sustained pain. After doing a little more digging around on the subject today I'm now armed with the unfortunate knowledge that (A) there doesn't appear to be any clear consensus on what causes them and (B) that once you have one you're more likely to have them again. Ugh. I'm definitely going to hold onto those leftover pain killers. At least I'll have a better idea of what it is should it ever happen again. And at least I'll know how to react (i.e., haul ass to the emergency room.)

This post is mostly just for close family members, but since my brother and the guys in his band are moving out of the 'tent city' in the attic of their publishing company I thought it was worth looking back.

The video really doesn't do it justice (they really did live in the 4th story attic of a converted house/office on Music Row in Nashville.) I was in awe of their part-time living quarters in Nashville the first time I saw it. It had a bizarro sort of charm to it that was hard to describe . . . then again I didn't have to live there.

Cribs errr, sort of.......


And on a semi-related tangent, here's band member Doug's video of a recent encounter with the aftermath of an F3 tornado in Tennessee (my brother Adam was just behind him and talking to me on the phone at the time.) This clip was eventually featured on CNN's Headline News 'News to Me' segment.

You can always tell by the tone of the voice. Sometimes the tone on the other end of the phone is so pronounced, you can even tell by the first words uttered that something's wrong.

Today was one of those days. In the grand scheme or things it could have been a lot worse. But it always makes your heart rate skyrocket whenever you hear that tone.

My mother was in the back yard doing some gardening this afternoon when she tripped and fell backwards onto a large rock. She knew she was falling toward the rock so she twisted and minimized the damage to her head and face. But unfortunately she broke her wrist (as well as banged up her toe pretty badly) in the process. Luckily her next door neighbor was also outside and was able to call an ambulance.

Holly called to inform me. She didn't act upset or overly emotional, but as soon as she said my name (the fact that she rarely starts a conversation with my name was another red flag) I knew something was wrong.

We were eventually able to track down the destination hospital for my mom. And since this hospital was right next to my office I was the first arrive. She was in a lot of pain, but I was amazed that she still had enough concern to feel embarrassed by the fact she was a bit grungy from being outside working (even in agonizing pain we want to maintain a certain level of dignity.) After the x-ray and doctor's examination they set my mother in a temporary cast and will be sending her to an orthopedist on Monday. In retrospect I wish they had been a bit more thorough in their attending to the cuts on her chin and toe, but hopefully those more superficial wounds will heal well. She's definitely going to be in for some pain for the next several days though. And while it's easy for me to say, we all know it could have been a lot worse.

Laney and Holly surprised me with a visit to my office this morning after their trip to our nearby zoo turned out to be a no-go due to crowds. So what is the first thing Laney asks me after giving me a hug? "Can I play with your toys?"

My toys? Oh yeah. Those toys. That oft-forgotten box of schwag and trinkets I have buried in the bottom of my office cabinet is a veritable treasure trove of excitement to my 3-yr-old daughter. It's funny the things a child remembers. She knew exactly where they were and exactly what was supposed to be in the box. As far as she's concerned, playing with those dusty items is the highlight of coming to my office (and probably what she imagines I do all day when I'm here.)

What's particularly strange to me is that I can remember that feeling like it was yesterday. Whenever I was a kid I loved going to my dad's office on the weekends. While he was working my brother and I would draw things on the drafting tables and play with the electric erasers. Later we'd race office chairs around the empty hallways and toss paper airplanes off the balconies of their 8-story atrium (sorry about that one dad.)

As those memories came flooding back to me, it then dawned on me that Laney is now reaching an age when she'll actually remember some of the current events and environment around her many years from now. Up until now, I've assumed almost all of her current memories of her toddler years will eventually fade away. But for her memories of the here and now, that may no longer be the case. I guess I really need to be on my best behavior now.

My parents have been in Georgia for the last week attending a big RV expo. Our family has always enjoyed camping. We started out in little pop-ups for most of my childhood years before graduating on to our first motorhome during the 90s (a 30', Class-A, 1984 Southwind.)

But while we all loved the commodious space of the motorhome (it even served as a pseudo-apartment for me during my college years when I came home on weekends) a rocky relationship gradually developed whenever we tried to actually take it anywhere. The breaking point came after a big family trip out to Colorado. We drove all the way across OK, KS and eastern CO with no alternator, charing the battery with an A/C battery charger running off the generator while driving - and that was just the start of our problems. Not long after that experience, my parents opted for the mechanical ease-of-maintenance of a very nice 32' Class C model.

This RV has served the family very well over the last ~7-8 years (including another big trip out to Montana and Colorado, this time trouble free.) But over time my parents started to miss the wide open views and additional seating (especially for football season) that comes with a Class A. So when they headed over to the RV expo in Georgia we all had a feeling they might end up coming home with a different rig. Sure enough, they've picked up a sweet new ride.

And while I'm extremely happy for them and can't wait to go to some football games and trips in it, this was all really just a big excuse for me to share the following cheesy clip I just watched on one of my favorite TV shows. I can't wait to do this with their new motorhome.

Although I'm only indirectly enjoying the benefits of Spring Break at the moment (still can't get over how light rush hour was today) I can finally hang my hat on the knowledge that I'll soon be rewarded with a vacation of my own.

Ordinarily that wouldn't be cause for inordinate celebration. But this will be our first vacation in almost 18 months. And for a family used to heading to the beach at least a couple times a year (plus whatever other trips we might make to other destinations) that's a long time to go without any sort of travel. Ever since Holly found out she was pregnant we started to cut back on expenses in preparation for her staying home for a year with the baby (ironically, we might possibly be returning to the scene of the crime as it were since Holly became pregnant with Jessica after our last trip to Rosemary Beach; don't hold your breath for any new souvenirs this time.)

With two little ones now in tow, I don't expect the trip to be as blissfully relaxing as our last getaway. But it should present a different kind of enjoyment which is even more enjoyable in its own way. Instead of moonlit walks with cocktails it'll be piggy back rides in swimsuits to get pizzas and ice cream before heading back to the beach to build sand castles. It's a win-win either way.

I called my brother up today to let him know I was driving a car that probably wasn't worth as much as the cell phone that I was speaking to him on. He laughed and knew immediately I was driving The Roach.

And we both knew I was lying.

A) Because even a running car is worth at least a few hundred bucks and . . .

B) Because The Roach is priceless as far as we're concerned.

Our parents bought this brown Datsun (the Nissan name was just getting phased in at that time) Sentra wagon back when it was brand new in 1982. So for my brother and I, the car has been a part of the family for most of our lives.

I have so many memories involving this vehicle:

• Barreling down the interstate sitting in the cargo area (who cared about safety back then) pretending to launch torpedoes at the cars behind us.
  
• Riding to swimming lessons at the YMCA listening to early 80s 'yacht rock' style pop music.
• Riding to the emergency room following a trip to the YMCA because my brother split his head open on the floor when we hit a huge pothole (again, who cared about safety back then.)
• My first time helping my dad change a flat (for the record I didn't say FUDGE)
• Rolling through various fields and pastures surveying layouts for soccer fields.
• Learning to drive stick shift around the Rust office park and in the hills of Old Weatherly.
• Performing my first push-start in college when I mistakenly left the lights on all day.
  

The Roach saw a lot of use in the 80s. But as we approached our high school years, it started to assume the role of spare car for our household. Our parents each had newer vehicles and my brother and I (neither of us properly appreciating The Roach at that impressionable young age) each saved up and bought our own cars once we turned 16. All at once, the torrential pace at which it had been racking up the miles slowed to a crawl. Whenever one of our cars was in the shop (which was a lot for both our first cars/lemons) the Roach stepped up to the plate and fulfilled its duties admirably - even if we only begrudgingly accepted its aide at the time. But for the most part, it quietly sat to the side and watched our family go back and forth in other vehicles, only calling on it occasionally.

Over the last decade or so, The Roach has spent a great deal of its time residing in the parking lot of a local mini-warehouse. Its been kept company by our parents motorhome, but these later years out in the sun quickly began to take their toll. The paint is now quite faded with much of the interior highly dry-rotted. The A/C is pretty much non-existent (although the fan still at least blows.) The rear windshield wiper has long since fallen off. The hydraulics on the hatchback are shot (although a golf club handle works quite nicely.) And the radio is long gone . . . not that the rotted original factory speakers are of use anyway.

But the car itself still runs like a top. And for my starving musician brother, it once again stepped up the plate in recent years as a heavily-utilized relief vehicle by easing the burden of his old truck's poor mileage on his constant trips between Florence and Nashville. I've even used it myself a few times in recent years whenever my car was in the shop.

Sadly though, The Roach is finally saying goodbye to our family. My parents have decided to donate it to a local charity. I know they see a lot of beat up old cars. Still, you always have a special bond when its YOURS. I hope whoever gets it will look past the faded paint and the crusty interior to see what still is (to me at least) a great little car.

Going back to work after spending a lot of time off during the holidays is always rough. Just as I grow accustomed to spending days on end at home with my family I’m uprooted from my comfortable nest to return to the daily routine of commuting to my workday life at the office.

It’s no coincidence that by late January each year I’m always getting an itch to start planning our next vacation so I can spend more time with the family. For the last couple years though, unexpected events have always intervened giving me plenty of time with my family early in the year.

Late Sunday night Laney started having problems keeping her food down. She’d just been to an event at a public library the previous day with numerous other children so the chances she’d picked something up were not unexpected. Still, we assumed it would probably just be a quick-hitting stomach bug (as most stomach bugs tend to be.) And by Tuesday that appeared to be the case. Laney was showing numerous signs of feeling better and seemed to be on the rebound.

Things shifted in a big way on Wednesday morning though. Laney started having more problems and I awoke to find that I too was striken by the bug. Too sick to move I spent half the day on our bathroom floor. When I was feeling “better” I finally moved back to our bed. Holly checked in on me periodically throughout the day, but I told her to just focus on Laney. In between my own waves of sickness, I’d get the occasional updates on what was going on elsewhere in the house. I was relieved to hear that Jessica was being evacuated to my mother’s house for the duration of the bug. Hopefully she wasn’t carrying it already.

Naturally Holly was the next domino to fall. Thursday morning Holly awoke to the misery I’d endured the day before. I was feeling marginally better, but exceedingly weak after having lost over 5 pounds in 24 hours so I was in no condition to take care of both her and Laney. Holly’s mom answered the call and came over to help out.

Friday we all started to feel a bit better although we were obviously very weak. Holly began opening windows and cleaning/detoxing everything in sight. Laney had more of a spring in her step and seemed to be showing hints of her old spirit. I even ate my first “meal” in 3 days – a piece of toast and a cup of applesauce. What’s sad is I didn’t even really want it.

Saturday morning (my birthday) I stepped on the scales to find I was down 10 pounds from my normal weight. Ten pounds in 72 hours. I haven’t weighed this little since I was in college. I guess this would be considered a grand birthday present by some people. Granted, much of it will go right back on once I get completely re-hydrated and start eating regularly again.

Holly’s dad called early Saturday morning to let us know that Holly’s mom was now down with the virus. It wasn’t unexpected (it comes with the motherly duties territory) but we still hated it for her immensely after all she’d done to help. We also felt bad for her dad as he was basically a ‘sick man walking’ at this point . . . and his birthday is in just a few days as well. Our birthday present to him I suppose.

Around our house we were all starting to feel close to normal again. We got outside briefly on midday Saturday because it was just too beautiful NOT to go outside for a bit. I even picked up some egg drop soup as we enjoyed our first semi-real meals in days (not quite the lobster or rib dinner I'd originally envisioned for my birthday meal earlier in the week.) Invigorated by the infusion of calories we all were feeling much better now. Everything seemed to finally be coming to a conclusion as we hoped to be reunited with Jessica the next day.

Unfortunately, Laney has once again had another bout after nausea (her first in a couple days) so now we don’t know what to think. Holly and I both feel like we’re past the worst of it, but seeing Laney continue to relapse after periods of resurgence makes you question if this is ever going to end. The fact that we haven’t seen our baby for several days also makes it that much worse. You want to see her, but you don’t want her to have to endure this either. So while I miss her VERY much, I can wait a couple more days if I have to.

I do know this though. I can NEVER wind down as well I can curled up next to my dog on the couch each night. Tucker, I miss you buddy.

Most of my immediate circle of friends and family are pretty good about this, but I just wanted to make an open observation/request. This actually wasn't prompted by anybody's recent actions, it just popped into my head as I was sending out an email a little while ago and was tracking down the latest status of a few email addresses.

NEVER make your ISP email your primary personal email address. Odds are your ISP is going to change over time. Then you have to deal with things like transferring contacts, transferring critical emails, letting everyone know your new address, etc. Just go out and get a free account from a major, respected portal like Google or Yahoo and make that your primary point of contact (not to mention accounts from those two sites are pretty much a necessity these days for other things like instant messaging, online photo hosting, fantasy football leagues, etc.)

I don't even know what my ISP email address/password is. I think they gave it to me when I first got cable broadband 7 years ago. Not counting my business email address, I try to route most of my personal email through my main Yahoo and Gmail accounts. They'll both be around forever, they're free, they both have more than enough storage, they're easy to use, they can automatically forward emails, they work with 3rd party software like Outlook, etc. It's easy to get carried away and have too many accounts on these services (I'm a classic example of that; part of it's a byproduct of my work needs though) so try to just pick one account and stick with it if at all possible.

I've been uber-busy of late so I haven't had much time for posting. But I finally got around to uploading some new photos to my Flickr.

The girls are growing so fast these days. Jessica is already 5 months old and Laney just turned 3. It's going to be a fun Christmas having a couple little ones around the house who can really appreciate it (if nothing else, Jessica at least appreciates all the lights and decorations.) I'm planning on taking loads of time off this year so it should be a great month.

I was originally going to do a more intense shoulder workout tonight. But after putting lights on the Christmas tree for the last couple hours I can barely lift my arms.

I made the decision to get more contemporary and go with a new batch of LED lights this year as the 6+ strings of lights we used on our main tree in the past had been gradually shorting out one by one. However, I didn't notice that the spacing between the bulbs on the new lights were MUCH closer than the old strings we'd been using. As a result, I ended up spending nearly an hour snaking the LEDs up and down each branch (like I did in years past) only to find that the new lights barely cover the bottom half of our tree. And with 400 bulbs on only half a tree you can imagine how nice that looked. I ended up ripping down all my previous work and just winging it to a reasonably nice result.

I have to confess, I thought a few times about pre-lit trees during the process. But after seeing virtually every pre-lit tree purchased by friends/family quickly short out I'd rather not bother. And despite my rantings here, I actually look forward to putting the lights up as it's my first dose of getting ready for the holidays (I'm a sucker for the holiday season.) However, I was irritated that SpikeTV was not good enough to provide me with my usual tree-decorating entertainment in the form of the now-expected James Bond Thanksgiving week marathon. For me, nothing rings in the holidays quite like The Man With The Golden Gun or From Russia With Love.

Mom and Dad,

I'm sorry I was such a picky eater as a child. Because payback is a #*%@*! and Laney's definitely making sure I get my long overdue comeuppance.

It's not so much that she won't try new things. She'll usually take a nibble off something we give her. But it's the sheer quantity of what she eats that's so amazing. Even for foods she loves she eats extremely tiny portions (and I know most kids do that, but I'm talking small even by that standard.) Holly and I have a running joke that the day Jessica starts eating solid foods is the day she'll start eating more than Laney; Jessica thus far seems to have a voracious appetite. If Laney were just a zombie sitting in front of a TV all day it would be one thing. But she's far from that. So I'd assume she'd naturally be hungry after all that playing.

And in my defense, I'm now a pretty good eater. Sure, I could eat far healthier. But I also eat a MUCH broader range of foods now than I did in the past. I'm also far more willing to try new things these days. Whenever I try a new restaurant, I'm now much more inclined to seek out one of their signature dishes instead of ordering up a safety blanket item that I could have anywhere.

I remember one of the tipping points for me was due to sheer peer pressure. I was at a formal gathering somewhere during the latter half of my high school years and the meals naturally included salads (which I NEVER ate at that time.) Everyone at the table was having a salad and I didn't want to be the only one childishly declining. So I ordered a basic salad with Italian dressing and was blown away by how good it was. From that point on I was far more willing to give new foods a try.

Something tells me we won't have to wait that long for Laney. But she'll definitely keep us on our toes in the meantime.

I was finishing up my workout in the basement when Holly came downstairs with some leftover brownies she had just made for a friend. She says she doesn't do anything special when she's making them, but I swear they always taste extraordinarily good.

Which got me to thinking whether or not they were so good as to merit a spot on my oft-contemplated 'death row' meal list. I have two main derivations of this meal depending upon my mood/cravings. They are as follows.

Main gut-busting choice:

• Babyback ribs (Lisa's)
• Garden salad with strawberry vinigarete dressing (Rose's)
  
• Baked beans (Holly's)
• Hashbrown casserole (Cracker Barrel's)
• Cornbread (Mom's)
• Sweet tea (my cousin Kristy's)
  
• Chocolate-frosted, chocolate cake (Mema's)

Alternative/simpler choice:

• Crab legs (from anywhere good; just well-salted with crispy shells)
  
• Hush puppies (good, spicy cajun-style)
• Tecate beer (frosted glass straight from the tap)

I don't really have any dessert thoughts for the latter meal so maybe Holly's brownies could fit there. However, a better match would probably be a really good key lime pie (the one we had at the now defunct Jumbo's in Orange Beach was still my favorite of all time.)

There's naturally dozens of close runner-ups. I LOVE breakfast. And Mema's peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (such a simple thing) always tasted like heaven. I'd also love to list a really good Chinese or Italian dish as those are some of my favorites. But I'm a Southern boy at heart and my tastes still reflect that.

The other brownie is calling me now. But I really need to finish riding the bike first. Maybe I can just place it in front of the bike and use it as motivation (or more appropriately, justification.)

I know a few out of town friends and family have been asking about them so I posted them to my Flickr.

One of my coworkers also took several cute photos from the trick-or-treating party our office held for employee children. You can find the photos of Jessica and Laney in my Flickr favorites.