Bass Pro Boys

Last week? (or was it the week before?), I had the honor of taking my boys around for about 1/2 a day.  It was an incredible experience, warming and filling my heart with memories that I will forever cherish.  Since I like to keep things in chronological order, I won't comment yet on this pic.

I picked the boys up (WP and O'Mike) for those of you that have not met them.  I had been told they had eaten breakfast, but I was soon informed by 'motor-mouth-mike' that 'he' was hungry.  So, I asked what 'he' wanted to eat, and then both of them chimed in unison "chikzen-n-fries", no, not the most linguistically correct pair, that's for sure.  So, we headed to Sonic, and sure enough, they each inhaled their extra breakfast as if it'd been a week since seeing food.

While surveying the Sonic landscape, O'Mike was telling me all about Bass Pro, as he'd recently been there, as if he was trying to initiate me on what to expect.  He told me about the fish tank, about Santa, about the boats, about BigFoot steps in the concrete, about guns ~ it was all pretty amazing what his memory was parroting back for me, as if he was going to be my advance tour guide since he thought I'd never been there before.

All the while, WP just ate and smiled, letting little bro keep me engaged with stories of yore.

Pulling up into the parking lot, it was all these little guys could do not to rip off the car doors and beeline for the entrance.  They were amped, live wired, and ready for whatever lie in wait.  As I was walking in, O'Mike looks up at me and asks if I was going to shoot BigFoot if I saw him inside.  I set aside his fears and tell him no, only if BigFoot starts attacking us will I put him down.  That calmed his nerves as we had just finished a talk a few minutes earlier about my gun, and why I carried a gun.

A new land speed record was established, as we made it to Santa's workshop in under 2.0 seconds, this while doing the 100 meter hurdles.

The boys were immediately fascinated by a celebrity.  #1 Nascar driver Jammie McMurray was in attendance (Bass Pro is his major sponsor), and he was shooting print ads with a model wife, and a model son.  The model wife was young, blond, very attractive (just like Jackie, their Mom), and ever the casanova, he was striking up conversations with her.  He didn't care that she was trying to work; he was trying to make his presence known too. 

The model son could have been WP.  He was groomed and pedicured with perfection, eyes gleaming, hair coiffed, and clothed in high fashion GAP, and a sweet, sweet boy.  Well mannered, and 6 years old.  He followed instructions perfectly, smiled when told to, looked up into his momma model eyes at all the right times, and make Jammie look like he was the perfect Dad.

It really was quite fun to watch the production go on, as there were a crew of 8 required for lighting, staging, and taking the photo's.  We didn't know this was going to be happening, but it turned out to be an extra bonus for the boys.  They played Nascar race cars with the model mom and model son for quite some time and really enjoyed it.

In between turns on the Nascar circuit, O'Mike was making moves on another young MissMeJeans beauty, whose name was Halie.  5'2", 88 lbs (maybe 80), exceptionally petite, blond, maybe 20 (max), and a gorgeous smile ~ which held O'Mike in a trance.  Oh man, is this one going to be a player I tell you, or what.  He knows how to work a room, knows how to talk to the ladies, knows how to get their attention, keep their attention, and make them swoon.  He is going to leave a trail of broken hearts in his path.  I see it now.  He is 3, has the moves of Jagger, and has been flirting since he was 2.  Look out girls, look out.

We were at Bass Pro a solid two hours, and could have been easily a solid four hours, as we barely covered 20% of the store.  During that time, we had two trips to the potty ~ and in the name of decency, I'll not re-tell a funny story about one of those trips.  Will and I played a new game of checkers, which we invented, and from which, WP, with his analytical powers of deduction soon took to, and legitimately beat me 5 games to 3 with our new rules for this game.  It was pretty amazing to watch.  Just to watch his face, see the intensity, watch the wheels spinning, see the focus, the determination, wow, this boy is after my heart with that focus and analytical mind. 

While WP and I were in our rockers playing checkers, I tried on multiple occasions to keep O'Mike from fetching a pair of waders and heading for the trout stream.  It took a team of security personnel, a kind elderly grandma worker, (and me), to keep him at bay, or we'd have been frying fish for lunch.

Then, it was back to Santa's workshop for another visit, and more one-on-one flirt time with Halie and O'Mike.  She taught him how to hold the gun when shooting.  She showed him how to use the radio remote for the mud track, and she took him to the train tracks to watch the chu-chu.  That was boring to him, he told her he wanted to go shoot more guns, so they walked almost arm in arm back to the shooting area, and there he plied his trade for at least another 15 minutes of private time with Halie, as WP and I played the Nascar track.

WP told me he was hungry again, so I had to rescue Halie, and we were on our way out.  As we were walking out, O'Mike looks up and says "Pappy, what is her name?", and I tell him "Halie".  He immediately turns around and shouts (he didn't need to shout, we were only 10' away), "Thank you Halie!", and with a big smile and a wave to her ~ we were gone.

Now; about the picture.

Prior to arriving at McDonald's for more "chikzen-n-fries" which the boys had requested for lunch too, we had to make an unscheduled pit stop (Nascar speak) at Nini's.  My phone was dead, and not having a car charger that worked, we went to get Nini's phone.  While at Nini's place (I'm so glad she let's me live there with her), the boys were given a Sam's size bag of giant marshmallow's.

It took them 20 minutes to polish off the bag, and 80% of the marshmallow's were on their face, hands, hair, clothes, car seats, car windows, carpet, nostrils, ears, floorboards, and some even made it onto Poochie the poodle in the car next to us.

This picture is after WP had washed his face in the McDonald's sink (though he still looked like he was covered in the white goo).  I couldn't get a good pic of O'Mike, as I could never get him to sit still or stop talking, so I just posted this one of WP.  However, you will see O'Mike off to the side, as he is in his element.  Note the little boy at the counter with his Dad.  O'Mike took the entire lunch time introducing himself to this little boy and his Dad, and found out the name of his soccer coach, what color his blanket was, who he voted for on Nov. 6th, and he was inquiring to the Dad about his thoughts on the San Andreas fault when it was time to go.  Man, can this little boy talk!  Motor-mouth-mike, with the moves of Jagger, the looks of Cooper, and the confidence of Reagan ~ look out world.

What an awesome, awesome time I had.  I talked about it with Nini for several days afterwards.

I love my boys.  And up next, my girls!  Last Friday was going to be my time with them, but that got shifted around, so look for my next blog about them soon.

Until then, Happy Birthday Nini Pam!  I love you.
 

Spaz

This is my Emma Jo, my precious Spaz.  I love this little girl, no surprise there, but how she melts my heart is such an unusual story.  You see, Spaz has bi-polar tendencies with me.  One day, she might look at me like I am the anti-christ, and the next time she will accost me with so many hugs and kisses that I lose count.

I wish I had a close up picture of her face; as so often, that is how I am viewing her.  Our faces are within inches of each other; and she's got the Vulcan mind meld thing going on with me.  That, or she's angling for another donut, or Popsicle, or snickers, or fruit loops, or etc.

On Halloween night, I made a rare appearance and went out candy-ing with all the kiddo's in a neighborhood that would quickly drive me to the funny farm if I had to live in it; with 114,217 children under the age of 7, all living within 2 streets of each year.  Kind of like 'the bronz', only BA style . . .

Spaz was dressed as a Princess.

You know what those long jump runners looked like this summer at the Olympics?  Speedsters that would begin their quest by running 50 yards at full bore, and then leaping high into the air to land in the sand pit about 30' away.  Well, that's what Spaz reminded me of on Halloween night.  She saw me from a distance, lit out on a beeline to me, and at about 50' away (she would have shattered Carl Lewis' long jump record by more than 20'), she leaped into the air knowing that I would be there to catch her.  And of course, I did.  We did the face time, she gave me her incredible bear hug, and we locked lips for several great kisses.  Then, just as quickly as it had begun, she was off, because after all, there was candy to be consumed.

Many times you have read about my love of being a daughter daddy, and about the special love and bond that I have with my two daughters.  Well, I've been kind of in a sad funk recently for Angela (my youngest daughter), and her two daughters Monster and Spaz (aka Ava and Emma) because their Daddy is in berzerkistan for 7 more months.  He's been gone for almost 2 months, and the girls have done great overall; but I know as a Daddy how much they must miss their Daddy, and he them.

So Joe, this one is for you too.  I love you, miss you, and will continue to pray vigilantly for your safe and quick return.  But, until that time, I got your back.  I'm a good Daddy too :-).

Nanny Bird

Tomorrow would have been Nanny's 77th birthday.  I miss her, and I know Pam does too; probably not a member of the family that does not miss and think about her frequently as we enter into the busiest and fastest 3 months of the year.

Happy Birthday Nanny.  I love you.  I look forward to seeing you soon.

This year, we are gathering as a family at our home for Thanksgiving; which is my favorite holiday of the year.  It will be a family reunion of sorts, with many of us having not been together since our last reunion here at our home 7 years ago. 

But, it will also be a celebration, as we come together to be thankful that Carter has overcome and beaten his cancer; while we remain saddened that our precious Nanny did not beat hers.

Our feast this year will be centered around a menu full of Nanny's favorite's, and I for one, can't wait to be the co-sous chef with Angela as we take over the kitchen to prepare the feast.

I will undoubtedly not be as un-flappable in the kitchen as Nanny always was.  She somehow kept her cool when 70 sets of butts & elbows were jostling for position in the kitchen as she tried to finish her work.  For me, it will take a combination of Valium, and blocking the entrances into the kitchen, which is about 180 degrees different than Nanny's approach. 

No wait, she did the Valium thing too! :-) 

I remember how Nanny always loved to have the family together at the holiday's, how she went out of her way to make everyone's favorites.  I remember the fireplace fires, the football, the feasts, the late night games, the cousin's sleeping over.  I remember 12 girls squeezing into the bathroom to use it all at the same time.  I remember Spencer racing at light speed from one side of the fence to the other side.  I remember the Oldsmobile's.  I remember sitting on the front porch for hours doing nothing but yak and watch cars drive by.  I remember when she brought us to tears when she asked if Jackie was still dating the moron.  I remember in 2000 that Nanny was so overjoyed when she got her front landscaping re-done, and how she was so proud of her "thing on a stick".  I fondly remember all of her visits to our home when she would bring her Mazzio's free fill it up cup.  Then she would sit at the bar, dangling her bird legs, and be perfectly content for hours on end talking and watching; just to be around us.  Wow, what love.

Man, I love those memories.  And I love you Nanny.  Happy Birthday!

The Pappy Awards

In an attempt to take our minds off of the hottest summer in the history of my life; here are a list of the winners for the 2012 Pappy Awards to the greatest g'kids in the world:

Best Smirk: WP.  WP has patented his smirk since he first flashed it over 5 years ago.  He now has several variations of his smirk.  Make no mistake, there is no one better at smirking than WP.  2nd place is so far away, it's not even worth a mention.


Best Strut:  WP.  Locked this up early in life.  He displayed how to strut better than he did walking.  Runner Up Jared Henry. 

Most Likely To Trip On A Weeble People:  WP.  Thankfully, I will one day be able to transfer the crown from my head to WP's, though that might topple him over too . . .

Best Past Hurler:  WP.  He gold metaled in this sport.  He regularly took the silver and bronze too.  Thankfully, none of the other kids wanted to compete in this sport of regurgitation.
 

Best Line Leader:  Jared Henry.  Good grief does this young stud know how to corral a line.  No one better.  And dude, if you're not in line; Jared will make sure everyone knows it!

Best Bear Hug: Emma Jo.  Runner up Jack Arthur.  I love how each of them run into my arms, Spaz usually ends hers with a leap, and a squeeze that might take my breath away if I weighed 17 lbs., but with the extra 200, I don't have a problem handling it.  I love their bear hugs.

Best Kisser:  Emma Jo.  Gorgeous lips, perfect pucker, and the best kiss is usually immediately followed by the previously received best bear hug.
 
Flip side for worst bear hug: Jared Henry, runner up Ava Corinne.  Oh my, these guys need work on their hugging skills.

Best Snuggler:  WP.  This little boy inherited it from his Momma, who was a snuggling queen.  Though I've not been able to enjoy many nights of snuggling with WP (he prefers snuggling with his Momma), the ones that I have been to enjoy have been quite memorable.

Best Butt:  O'Mike.  Yes, with O'Mike's baseball swing, his new uniform of the day is quick to catch on in the big leagues as the constant crotch grabbers will finally feel the freedom that O'Mike is displaying.  Of course, if an adult does it, he lands in the Pervert Wing.  When O'Mike was interviewed about it, his reply was simply "It helps me to run faster."

Best Boy Smile: O'Mike.  Runner Up Jack Arthur.  They will suck you into their worlds with their smiles.

Best Current Jock:  Jared Henry.  Lettering in Football, Basketball, Baseball, Skeet Shooting, Swimming, Shot Put, Checkers, etc., this dude knows how to play sports! 

Best Laugh:  O'Mike.  No one is even close for 2nd place.  He's been putting out adult sounding belly laughs since he was 6 months old.

Best Smile / Best Eyes:  Ava Corinne.  Her smile is infectious.  Goodness, you can't help but melt when she is smiling at you, and when combined with her eyes; you've got to be dead not to be moved by what here tandem pairing of smile/eyes will do to you (or me).

Family Most Un-likely To Breed A Black Headed Anything:  Take a look at this group of toeheads.  Good grief, and they are all natural!

Best Sleeper:  Spaz.  No one is even close for 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, etc.  She sleeps so much she's got the Top 10 spots zzzz'ed up.  This picture here was quickly snapped in between naps.


Best Swimmer:  WP.  In our pool with a 12" depth, 48" width, and 60" length, WP can do amazing things.  In a regular pool, you would never know he has not had a swimming lesson.  Though for safety precautions, he should...

Best Imitation of Dearth Vader: O'Mike.  The boy hates to wear clothes; we just hope he is not the next magic mike.  At least in this photo he kept his diaper on.  WP reported several near hits as Dearth was navigating blindly around the death star.


Best Hair:  It's a 4-way tie.  Emma has incredible pig tails, and super fine super soft hair.  Ava has the most luxurious thick long black hair (just like her momma), and looks great no matter how it is styled.  WP was the original faux hawk, then O'Mike added his take on the faux hawk, and when they each have a clean shaved boy hair cut ~ dude, their hair looks awesome.

Best Eater:  Ava Corinne.  Runner Up Jack Arthur.  Ava is my pizza buddy, or tostada queen, or donut/cookie hound.  This sweet little girl loves to eat.  She has my nearly insatiable appetite, and has since she was 2 hours old, screaming for more milk!  One of my all time favorite things to do with Ava is take her out to eat.  She loves food as much as I do.  And Jack, he's the only one I know that can eat more grilled hot dogs than I can.  I usually stop at 12, Jack stops at 36.  I hear he has sights on the hot dog championship in NYC on July 4th, 2027.

Best Gamer:  Jack Arthur.  Runner Up Jared Henry.  These boys know their games.  I hear they are both working on a new game App, and if Android buys it, they'll make the whole family rich as they have shared with me that we'll all have a job at Stank Studs.

~

And that's it for this years awards.  New categories are forming as we speak.  I have more pics, but apparently I'm about at my upload limit, as they are taking FOREVER to upload, so I will save them for my next post.

I love my boys and girls.  They are growing up so fast.  So, so, fast.  Wow, I must be getting older; that's what my Grandpa used to tell me...



 

  

Ava Gets Saved!

This is Ava Corinne.  She's always been years ahead of her actual age; physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually.

I am very proud of Ava.  Even more so now, as last Friday she prayed with her Momma to receive Jesus into her heart to be her Lord and Savior.  Hallelujah!

Welcome sister.  I Love You with all my heart. 

I love my heritage.

- Pappy

My Blue "Vette" Heaven

"I have a need. A need for speed." As quoted by Tom Cruise (one of the biggest idiot actors of our generation) from the movie Top Gun.

Well, I have a need for speed too.  BIG time need for speed.  Ever since I can remember my very first roller coaster ride, I have wanted to go fast.  I tricked out my early motorcycles for extra HP.  My first car was a Dodge Charger, and holy cow, did I ever pay the big bucks for that beauty to have extra speed gear added on.  It's wasn't the fastest Dodge Charger in high school, Scott Ambler had that beast, but it was a worthy challenger.

I've had an adult only Kawasaki rice rocket that was so fast it was scary (and was the culprit for putting me in defensive driving school and having my license revoked for 3 months). I've owned a Datsun 280Z, a Firebird Formula 400, a TransAm 400HD, a TransAm 400SD, a TransAm Turbo, a Buick Regal Turbo; and then the mid 80's and 90's happened and I became a sensible Dad driving mostly Cadillac Sedans . . .

But, I could only hold off the speed bug for so long, so in 2000, my first Vette was purchased, and you've seen my previous blog about her.  A gorgeous red head turning stunner.  Fast, goodness she was fast, and in only 3 weeks time after I put her up for sale, she was adopted by an even older grandpa than me, that has since given her a good home in Bartlesville.  (It was his 6th Vette to own).

Then, along came blue.  She was named Bliss by the previous owner, and she's still going through a bit of an identity crisis as I've only had her for 5 weeks.  I've been calling her Blue, and VII (although she is technically the newer VII, not the original), and Joe named her 1Nation, which I like a lot too, and might end up getting her tagged that way.  Her color is Jet Stream Blue Metallic.

She just turned 4, and had 13k on her when purchased.  Not a blemish to be found inside or out, under, or beneath; just like a car like her should be.

She is my land jet.  Rocket fast.  6 speed manual gears of pure fun, super charged adrenaline.  Man does she have an incredible growl when you ignite her after burners.  And the Z06 air intake hood vent amps up the volume.  I read that the top speed is 197, but I'll only do that if I can get on a race track, or out to the Bonneville salt flats.  For now, I am limited to on-ramps, and have to shut her down before merging :-).  Joe and Angela both were able to experience the thrill of 83 in 2nd gear, and we got there pretty quick . . .

Before you ask, I've only been to 92, and that was for a brief stretch of lonely highway while I was driving her home from Indy.  Her previous owner lives in a suburb of Indy, and I made a flight to Indy to pick her up and drive her home, where we became quite familiar with each other on that 14 hour road trip home spread over 2 days.

Good gosh, she is so quiet on the inside.  The faster you go, the quieter she becomes.  Low speeds, she moans, she groans, she whines, she cracks, she pops; she HATES to go slow.  But get her onto the open road and open her up, and everything seals, she hunkers down for low drag, has no wind noise, and her big soft luxuriously soft leather seats just envelope you and lull you into race mode.  (Her seats are actually more comfortable than my Lexus seats were). 

And the sound system.  Wow.  I've got an incredible sound system at home with all kinds of techno gizmo's, amps, tuners, high watt speakers, super cool Elite Sound that surrounds me and cracks the plaster on the walls at about 3/4th's volume.  But, inside the Vette, especially with some classic Queen or classic Def Leppard; oh man, be prepared to be amazed.  And of course, when Flo Rida's bass hook kicks in on "I've Got A Good Feeling", people probably wonder about my ethnicity; especially when it is cranked up.

Yes, if you come to my home for a visit, I'll gladly take you for a 'test ride' as my co-pilot; though please don't ask to pilot :-).

Happy 35th Wedding Anniversary

Happy 35th anniversary to Pam.  The Love of my life.  I love you with all my heart, and every fiber of my being.  I can not imagine loving you more.

How is it possible to continue being deeper in love with someone every year?  All we hear is how someone fell out of love, how someone found someone else much younger, how someone is no longer compatible, how they gotta go find themselves, etc.  That's all ca ca.  That's all from the devil spewing his venom over our society.  I'm telling you right now that if you are truly in love with someone, you're never going to fall out of love with them.  It's impossible.  You think Jesus can stop loving me?  No, no matter what I do.  And His love is eons of infinity deeper than what we humans are able to handle.

I absolutely adore our daughters.  They are two of the finest mothers and wives that I've known, and God blessed me to be their Dad.  I'm just now reaching an age where I am able to enjoy them as adults, not just my children.  You think it is possible for me to one day stop loving them?  Never.  And their children ~ good golly miss molly ~ I melt into their eyes when I am around them.  I turn into a gelatinous tub of pliable goo willing to do almost anything in the world that they ask for (I draw the line though at going to the Zoo, or getting a dog).  What other reason is there for me to allow them to do (or have) things that neither of their parents would have ever been allowed to do or have?  It's another kind of love.  Not a deeper love, but a different love, and a love that I could never abandon.  I'd rather be dead.

For our mates, there is no such thing as fully compatible.  We're all imperfect; we just have to adapt to various levels of each others incompatibility.  It's about learning to balance the things you dislike with things you like, and that turns into love.  Deep, abiding, committed, fully functional love.  Simpatico.  The pinnacle of perfection.  Pam dislikes more things about me than I can probably count on both hands and feet.  But, it works; incredibly well.  Gods love bonds us together. 

How do I grow deeper in love with this woman every year?  I have no idea; I just know that I do.  Today is our 35th wedding anniversary.  She is more beautiful to me now that when I first lusted after her when she was 16 and in her blue polyester pants.  This woman puts the jones in my bones.  When she gets all spruced up, geez, to this day, it's all I can do to not foam at the mouth like a rapid dog.  And usually I do . . .

~

Now, about these guns.  As you may or may not know; I started carrying a Ruger 9mm last fall, and after the initial license training class, I have since taken a defensive technique class, and have added a Beretta 9mm Nano to my collection.  I rotate carrying either, as one is more easily concealed than the other.  I am looking forward to Nov. 1st though, as I'll most likely always open-carry every where I go.  And, I do have my eye on a nice little .380 made by Smith & Wesson.  The ultimate in concealment.  (Note to those with large generous giving hearts; my birthday is Oct. 19th) :-).

Last Sunday, we went shooting with my brother in law and son in law.  These men are master marksman (they have accuracy skills I can only dream about), and the combined ownership gun total of their Dads would probably be enough for them to hold their own gun show at Expo Square if they wanted to.

Pam did not want to go shooting at the range, though Angela did, and dude, is she ever a dead-eye natural.  She was making head shots from 17 yards out like she's gone through 10,000 boxes of practice cartridges!

We get back to the house, and Pam finally relented to the peer pressure of shooting a gun, and she ended up loving the various ones so much that she decided to take this assault rifle home with her ~ and dared anyone to come and take it away from her!

~

Ah, my wife, finally a gunner.

Yep, she's got a great personality.

Yep, she's got a great sense of humor.

Yep, she's got a over-flowing gift of mercy.

And yep, she looks great in those jeans!

I love you Pamela Jean.  I love my life with you, and I am thankful for our 35 years together. 

I know I will love you even more after 36, but I do not know how.  - Mike

Happy 3rd Birthday O'Mike!

Happy Birthday Owen Michael!

Judging by his height and level of intelligence, you would probably not believe that this little 'boy' turns 3 tomorrow.  Yes, he still craps his pants, but other than those smelly impositions; our Owen Michael is quite the character, exceptionally mature, and smart as a whip.  Truth be told, he knows about using the stool, he just likes to peeve his Mom by showing a stubborn reluctance to use it.  Hmmm, stubbornness; is he related to Me?

O'Mike can walk, talk, and chew gum; all at the same time.  This is a coordinated skill that neither his Mom, his Pappy, or his older brother WP have ever been able to master.  If trying to do all three at once; WP would trip on the sidewalk crack, I'd stumble on the piece of gravel, and Jackie would do a herky trying to avoid me and WP, but then would not be able to 'nail that landing' and would end up with a twisted ankle.

Plus, just to make it interesting, O'Mike throws in hopping, skipping, and jumping all into the mix at the same time to really throw everyone a curve while he 'shows off' his multiple talents of coordination and bravery.  Show off?  Yes, absolutely.  This little guy works a room, works a crowd, works the buzz, works the laughs, and works the eyes; and it's only going to be more intense with every passing year.

Busy?  Who-boy, is this little guy busy.  He makes the energizer bunny look like a corpse by comparison.  Go, go, go.  Even worse than his Mom; affectionately known as go-go-gackie.  Busy with the capital B.  Busy as only his Nini can define Busy, as she lived being Busy during the same age.  Look at Nini's pictures when she was 3.  She was never standing still.  The legs are blurry, the arms are in running posture mode.  The hair has wind effects blowing by.  That's our Nini, and that's our O'Mike.

Lungs?  Are you kidding me.  This boy's diaphragm and lungs must have received special injections of HGH while in-utero.  I've heard lions that can't roar as loud as O'Mike.  Command attention?  Hello? Who do you think gets looked at?  This 3 year old magic-mouth, that's who.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that he's got great looks though either.  Between his Dad, his Mom, and his Nini, good grief, could he be any cuter?  The gene pool sure came together perfectly on each of my g'kids.  No need for modesty, they really are all great looking.  O'Mike has my eye shape, my head bumps, and my calves though ~ you can't deny that!  Good grief, now that I look at their pictures on my desk again, all 6 of my Pappy's Place young-uns really do have looks that will melt your heart, and will be leaving many broken hearts in their dating futures (both male, AND female!).

O'Mike is off the charts tall, measuring at 3 what most 4 year olds measure.  He's smart, vocal, has great posture, good pronunciation of his words, loves to eat, and is showing tendencies of being a natural jock.  Skill sets are evident for golfing, basketball, football, and baseball.  His basketball pose and shooting abilities will blow you away ~ it was never taught ~ it was completely natural.

I love you Owen Michael.  Happy Birthday #3 to my precious little boy.  - Pappy

Happy Birthday Emma Jo!

Emma Jo; my sweet little Spaz is 4!  Happy Birthday darling, I look forward to giving you belated birthday loving when you get back from vacation.  Your smile continues to melt my heart, and your bear hugs are pretty great too.  I'm so proud that you've finally learned the 'world peace' hand wave; that took many months of practice, but we can now certainly look forward to your tiara.

Emma Jo (Short-Stack, EJ, Spaz) has been enjoying her 1st vacation the last few weeks.  She had her 1st flight on SWA.  She did a vacation 'walk-by' of The Alamo (that was a shame ~ she missed out on all the history), and she's been to Sea World, which I hear was a big hit after the 7th log ride, and she's done a boat ride on the riverwalk, eaten at the world's best Mexican Restaurant with Casa Rio, has been able to swim daily at the RI; slept through Madigascar3 (not that she didn't like the movie ~ just that you don't mess with Spaz's sleep patterns ~ no matter the day).  She met her cousin Carter for the 1st time this week, and is headed to the beach at CC this weekend for beach doings before heading home.

When she gets home, her life will get back to normal; that is normal for her I mean.  Eating 12 meals a day, 14 snacks an hour, a 12 hour nightly sleep, followed by a 5 hour nap, and a few other 'rest' breaks, because she just does soooo much with her remaining 7 hours of awake time.  My my, you've heard me say it for years, but this little girl can sleep ~ too bad it is not an Olympic event, she'd 'nail that landing'.

Emma Jo is my little loner with Ava as her best friend, she's Momma's clingon, and she's a mini-me clone of her Daddy.  To use her Momma's word, wowzers, she's not only a Daddy's girl, but she looks just like him too.

I love you Spaz, and looking at this picture just makes me miss you more. 

See you soon, Happy 4th Birthday sweetheart. - Pappy

Dad's

So I was at chickolay this morning for breakfast; and right beside me was this handsome young man and his two beautiful daughters.  My heart quickened a bit, as I love to see Dad's interact with their daughters.  He was probably 37, with a night and day daughter.  The night was about 10, and the day was about 7, and looked to be a splitting image of her Dad, so night had to have looked like Mom.

I have a special appreciation/admiration for daughter Daddy's (being one myself), not that I have anything at all against boy Daddy's, since they have a special role to play too in raising their apes to one day be about 10% worthy of marrying off the daughter's of the world.  But, my bond is with the daughter Daddy's.

This guy could easily have been misinterpreted as mean (as I have been myself).  He was almost identical to me in size from the butt up at 6'1", 220 lbs, had a nice broad chest to waist ratio, shoulders back, and bald.  Shaved bald like me too.  (I should have started doing that in my 30's). 

He had a natural aire of intimidation to him (which I've been accused of 10,001 times in my life), complete with a bicep tattoo on one arm, and a nice diamond stud in one ear.  No, I'll always skip on the tats and earrings for my bod, and things like that would have bothered me 20 years ago when I was more judgemental, but this guy was doing it for style, and it looked really good on him.

I knew though when I saw him smile at his daughters; knew when I saw him listen to them; knew when I saw him rub night's hair, and then touch day's face; that this guy was pretty cool in my book, as they loved him as their Daddy just as much as he was loving them.  He loved his daughter's, and was probably heading to work at Life Fitness across the street given the workout outfit that he had on.

He does need to work on those calves though.  Goodness, those are some bad birdlegs (kind of reminded me of WP's birdlegs, whom is also the one that while speaking Wuh, calls Chick-Fil-A by his name of chickolay.)

Yesterday was Father's Day.  Duh.  My day is 33, and my night is 31.  I love my girls, and am absolutely as proud to be their Dad today as I was on the day they were born.  I know this mystery breakfast man at chickolay feels the same way about his girls ~ way to go Dad, you're doing it right.

VII

She's been a great and faithful car for 10 years. She will be missed, but her big brother (I'll blog about shortly) is ready to take the lead :-).

Her name is VII (pronounced 7), I love Roman Numerals. 7 is the biblical number of perfection/completion, and she has been perfect for me.  She will be missed, but she needs a new home.  How about you?  Follow the link below for all the details.

http://www.autotrader.com/cars-for-sale/vehicledetails.xhtml?searchRadius=0&listingId=323792954

Kansas City Royals

My Dad (age 80.5) enjoying his first ever KC Royals ballgame.  He'd never been to the stadium, and I had no idea.  It had always been an assumption that since Paul has lived in KC for 30 years, and Ken had lived in KC for 25 years, that at some point, they'd all gone to a game(s), but nope, never one.  Made me kind of sad.  Dad loved the game, had a smile on his face for the hour of pre-game, and for the first hour of the game.  This photo also is Paul, my brother, and James, my nephew. John, another one of my nephew's also went with us to the game, but refused to have a picture taken of himself; afraid the girls would be swarming after him. It was James and John's first Royals game too.

As a young boy, Dad had taken me to several KC Athletic's games, before they moved to Oakland, and became the Oakland A's.  It was in the old stadium downtown, in a ghetto part of town, but I always felt safe when I went with Dad.  One of my most fond memories at the time was in '67 when I caught the foul ball, and Dad hunted down Ewing Kauffman, the team owner, and escorted me down to the front row behind homeplate where Mr. Kauffman then signed the ball for me.  Yep, I've still got the ball!

We had a 4-1 lead going into this inning, but we brought in our 'ace' closer out of the bullpen, whom promptly lost the lead, and then the game. Stadium was about 3/4's full tonight.  Despite the Royals being in last place, tonight had $1 hotdogs, peanuts, and Pepsi.  That brought them in for sure, as the normal price of a dog is $5.  Our seats were pretty good, but we were right on an aisle, an aisle filled with gaggles of girl teenagers whose sole lot in life (or at least for this game), was to get up and leave their seats as often as humanly possible, to come back 5-10 minutes later, to do it all over again 5 minutes after that. It happened all night, so aggravating.  Not that we lost, but that these Clydesdale's were constantly in the aisle blocking the views.

I was surprised that my camera phone got this picture, but it turned out pretty good.  The fountains had some pretty cool special effects in between innings, and especially when it got dark for the fireworks.  This was no nickle-dime fireworks show; this was a whole enchilada, wow, it lasted about 30 minutes, and they had some tricky fireworks aerials that were a visual feast.  The way they coordinated it with the fountains, the lights, and the music made for a great after-game treat.  The finale was one for the ages.  Reminded me of the finale you watch when the Olympics finish.

Oops, this one is out of order. Oh well; I was trying to show the jet flyover that was timed perfectly.

Okay, the indent is jacked on this blog, so be it.

 

Our day started with lunch about 3p at the original 1957 location for Jack Stack BBQ.  Unquestionably, the world's best BBQ.  As a young child, I lived in KC for 12 years, and still love it to this day, enjoying every trip, and wishing I could visit the city more often.  We pulled up into the parking lot, and the smell of smoke overwhelmed us.  I had a good picture of it, but it did not send, so that kind of sucks.

Our server was Linda, the same one in the same round corner that we'd eaten at many times before.  She's not been there since '57, but close.  She was perfect as usual.  I had the burnt ends, and the rest of them had "the special", which today was supposed to have been 5 ribs and 2 sides for $10.  Each plate though was delivered with 12 ribs, and the boys enhaled their slaw so quickly that Linda brought more bowls of slaw for the whole table.  The value today was amazing.

These weren't old dried out ribs, these were the pick of the liter ribs.  Falling off the bone moist, tender, delicious.  I know, because after I finished my burnt ends, I was offered a few of Paul's, which I woofed down too.  James finished all 12 of his, plus 2 of John's, whom finished all of his with James' help.  Paul was able to polish off about 1/2 of his, and most surprising, Dad ate about 2/3 of his, leaving 5 ribs (which is what the meal was supposed to have started with!).  The doggie bag of leftovers was finished around midnight that night . . ., which is right about when we made it back to the room after the game.

 

Paul and the boys stayed up with TV till about 2a; and Dad & I were then up for good shortly after 6a, with Dad saying "Let's go! Time for breakfast!", which we went down together, and did eat quite a bit.

 

But, when the boys showed up 20 minutes later, the kitchen staff had to lock the doors after Paul, James, and John had cleaned out the buffet, plus the refill of the buffet, plus at least one more refill after that.  MAN, these boys can eat (and took about an hour to do so).  Jimminy, they sure enjoyed their food this weekend!  I felt sorry for the rest of the hotel guests that didn't get to eat breakfast that morning . . .

So, how soon can I come back?  Would love to see another game before the year is over.





Words & Numbers

Just the title is exciting enough to tune most of you out, but I can't help that the two are now inseparably linked by the massively addictive game called "Words With Friends". 

Every word is a number, and every game is about words and numbers, and playing them in order, or layered, and with the offensive strategy to maximize the word and number possibilities that you intend to play with your next word.  Sometimes your partner will block you or also know what letters you more than likely have to play after you've made your last play while you plot your numbers while waiting for them to play again. If you love words, and you love numbers, this game is for you. 

And if you know me, you know I love numbers.  The last 24 of 25 games have been wins, with the loss coming by 13 points, and the average score being 427.  Some of the wins have been such a pinnacle, that it continues to drive me for more. A 499, then 501, then 506, then 513, all with 3x word bonus' in each game, with the bonus' being of great assistance in coming back from being down 140 in one game, and down 147 in the other. Then, today, a new high of 553, with a first time ever 4x word bonus' in the game! Woohoo (never been able to play that word).

During the 553 game, my partner and I set a new high of 901 total points between the two of us! Our previous high total had been 831.  Now I need to know, is 1,000 total a possibility?

It's a great way to learn new words; these are some new ones that I remember being played on me: Asquint, Eolith, Xis, Suq, Bogan, Hinters, Winoes, and Druid.  Good to know words, but not ones that occur in conversations very frequently.

So, where is the apex? Is 600 a possibility?  I never thought I'd make it to 550.  Do you play the game? Have you achieved 600, 700?  Are there other bonus' available that have not been revealed?

I better dust off my Thesaurus, this is getting serious! :-) 

My Mom is 77! Happy Mother's Day!

My Mom is 77!  Happy Mother’s Day!

Mom, I am posting the following article about you on my Sunday blog: 6xPappy.blogspot.com

You may or may not remember me telling you what a blog is, so here is my definition: A blog is a personal and biographical web journal/diary/bio that is frequently updated and intended for general public consumption, as each blogger has ‘readers and followers’.  

Blogs represent the personality of the blogger and frequently inflect humor, sarcasm, flair, verve, panache, and/or sardonic wit.  Topics are random, and often include musings, rants, subjects of an educational or informative nature, or commentary on family, friends, life events, political, religious, and social issues.  Blogs also include links to other sites for reference; especially those that support a point being made on a post. The author of a blog is referred to as a blogger.

I posted my first blog about 1.5 years ago on 10.24.11, and your blog will be my 45th chapter. 

By some blogger standards, that is nothing, as I read some professional bloggers post 2-3 blogs a day; albeit usually brief.  My chapters are lengthier as a rule, and thus when I post, there is quite a bit to read on that subject.

The following is your blog chapter.  Happy Mother’s Day J

~

I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night, as I have no short term memory anymore, but I certainly remember with great clarity a host of vivid memories with my Mom.  For that, I will always be thankful; and is the reason for this blog.

As a young boy, I remember always thinking how pretty my Mom was, and how much more so than some of my friends Moms were.  I remember her coal black hair (when she had hair ~ like I should talk), and her pretty blue eyes.  I remember how dark she would naturally tan every summer; and always how proud I was to be around her.

Iremember Mom frequently locking herself in the room when her boys were out of control with fighting.  I think she did it for protection more than anything else, as our fights did escalate, not only verbally, but physically too. 

Let’s see, (this list is not all-inclusive, but it’s a good start), there was a bamboo pole to Paul’s forehead (from me) that required stitches.  There was a tire tool to my forehead (from Paul) that required stitches.  There was someone (Ken & Paul at different times) being pushed off the roof causing a broken collar bone once with Paul.  Someone else (me) getting my hand smashed (by Paul) into a gated fence hinge.  Someone else (me) being hit with a baseball bat (by Paul), after he had received imprints of the baseball stitching that were left in his cheekbone from a high hard one, thrown by me.

I remember many trips to the ER in my life; not because of sickness, but because of injury, and Mom was always the one taking me (us).

On a lighter note, I remember Mom making us bags of popcorn for our Friday night drive-in movies which were always a huge family favorite. 

I remember loving “It’s a MadMadMadMad World” from ’64, “The Green Berets” from ‘67, “The Hellfighters” from ‘68, and “True Grit” from ’69; which was the last drive-in movie I went to.

I remember being in a minor wreck in the white Ford station wagon, and how the first thing Mom did was turn around to make sure all of her boys were alright.  The wreck occurred as we were driving home from our favorite pizza place where all us boys could stand at the prep window and watch them make pizza’s.

I remember going out for dinner on Mom’s 29^th birthday, and Mom crying on the way home (which was quite unnerving as I didn’t want my Mom to ever hurt), and how she was sad because she was getting so old.  Yeah right, 29 is ancient.

I remember Mom routinely taking all of us boys (and our friends) in the green Chevy station wagon to the Phillips pool and letting us swim for hours.

I remember Mom being visibly upset only a few times.  Once was at Dad (a rare thing in their thus far 57 years of marriage), and that was when Dad surprised me with a buzz cut.  I’d been growing my hair long, and then wham!, it was gone, and caught me by surprise.  I cried like a big baby.  Big deal, wow, how cool would it be now to have hair to buzz! 

The second time was when Mom was arguing theology with her brother Donnie, and it was a dandy of an argument.  The Mace side of the family is known to have an obvious stubborn side, sometimes heightening at being obstinate.  Lewis had it to a degree, Donnie and Mom definitely have it, and then Mom passed it onto myself and Paul (we actually both have it in spades) and then I passed a very healthy dose of it onto Jackie, whom has now passed it down to O’Mike.  

I remember Mom’s stories of abject poverty from growing up in the great depression, her childhood memories being told with sincerity and conviction, and the total love and devotion that she would show for her Daddy.

My grandpa was the 2^nd most admired man in my life, just behind my Dad, especially in grandpa’s waning years as he lived with us before he succumbed to emphysema.

I don’t remember anything earlier than age 2, but I know my Mom was there, loving me, holding me, and being my protector.

I remember at age 2 climbing to the top of Mom’s curio cabinet with her running into the room screaming for me to get down.  We were living on a turkey farm at the time.  I remember walking the turkey farm many times, and always thinking that it was not only a horrible smell, but a horrible sound.

I remember at age 3 watching our new home being built in a brand new neighborhood that took maybe a week? to build. 

I also remember having a really cool 3^rd birthday party with a few of my friends, at night, and Mom baking my favorite cake, and dressing me in my favorite shirt.  I still have the picture.

I remember at age 4 running through the front glass door, hanging on for life, with shards of glass in my head, my arm, my hand, and with most of my tiny right shoulder shredded to pieces.  I remember Mom screaming in hysteria as I nearly passed out from blood loss, and the organized chaos that ensued of getting my brothers shuffled off to neighbors, and having another neighbor rush me to the hospital in their VW beetle, all in a matter of minutes. 

I still remember looking up at the Dr.’s as they stitched me back together.  And, I remember Dad bringing me home a bottle of my favorite root beer later that night.

I remember at age 6 being in the hospital from having my tonsils removed, being in great pain, and looking at my Mom sitting in the corner of my bed as I tried to sleep.  That same night, I remember the agony of coughing up a baseball sized clot of blood that probably would have killed me had Mom not been there.

I remember at age 8 having Mom with me at awards night from our Cub Scout troop that seemed to have won every award there was to win that night.

I remember at age 9 having Mom with me when I won the Junior league bowling trophy for highest league average, and then watch her place my trophy next to Dad’s bowling trophy as if it was the most important trophy she’d ever seen.

I remember at age 10 getting my first bicycle and Mom teaching me how to ride it.  I remember almost sleeping with it, as I didn’t want to do anything but ride my bike.  But, I also remember that same year Mom rushing me to the ER from a gushing head wound caused from running through a barb wire fence on my bike, and with the barb resting ¼” from my right eye, or I would have been blinded.

I remember at age 11 going to fall revival at Loma Vista Baptist Church with William B. Coble, going down front with my brother Paul to be saved, being baptized in November, and getting my first Bible at Christmas; which I still have to this day.  I remember my Mom always praying for me, always taking me to church, and always witnessing to me about Jesus. 

I also remember at age 11 playing tackle football with the neighborhood boys, and Guy Kalinka landing on my right hand.  The sight of the end of my thumb being behind my wrist was one of the most grotesque socket dislocations that I’d ever seen.  I don’t remember the dislocation hurting when it happened; but I screamed for all my worth when the ER Doc pulled it out (twice) to get it shaped right again. 

I remember at age 12 my Mom helping all the neighborhood kids build the latest and greatest version of the flying-o-part go-cart.  I also remember Mom going door to door with me as I ‘sold’ myself to the neighbors and began mowing yards.  And, this same year, having Mom help Paul and myself gather scrap wood so that we could build our latest tree house.  Which, once built, Ken fell out of.  On a completely separate note; Ken falls a lot.  He fell off the roof (still claims he was pushed), he fell out of the tree house (still claims he was pushed), and as an adult he fell off a 2 story scaffolding (he definitely was not pushed this time).

I remember at age 13 moving from Kansas City to Bartlesville and almost immediately getting a job.  Mom was up with me at 4a on Sunday mornings helping me roll newspapers (with my Aunt Meda), getting me strapped up on my bike with a load of Sunday papers that weighed more than I did, and having a breakfast waiting for me when I returned home around dawn from my paper route.  

I remember at age 14 when Mom encouraged me to save my newspaper route profits, and how proud she was when I bought with cash my first Honda motorcycle.

That allowed me the ability to add a 2^nd newspaper route.  I also remember the horrible ice storm from that winter, and how I had to ‘walk’ my paper route as it was not safe to ride my motorcycle.  Only for me to then slip and fall about 3 blocks from home, and break my left hand in the fall, with Mom taking me for yet another trip to the ER for a cast.

I remember at age 15 when Mom helped me open my first checking account at Plaza Bank, and learn to start paying bills with it.  And, how she was my biggest fan when I bought my new yellow Kawasaki 100, and then the red 125.

I remember at age 16 when Mom was so proud that I’d been hired by McDonald’s, and how she wanted to be the first one to take a ride in my Dodge Charger.  I remember Mom faithfully cooking me a full meal that I would eat by myself at about 3:30 every day before going into work the night shift which started at 4:00.

I remember at age 17 when Mom told me I was nuts for not pursuing the most beautiful girl in the world, Pam Hajducek.  She told me how she’d been praying for me and Pam, how sweet she was, (and I already knew this girl had killer looks).  I also remember when she wanted to be the first one to ride in my new red Firebird Formula, but actually, that first ride was reserved for another girl in my life (Pam).  I sure am glad I listened to Mom on this one . . .

I remember at age 18 when as a Sr. in High School, I was elected President of the Sr. DECA class at our school, and shortly thereafter being promoted to Asst. Mgr. of McDonald’s.  Mom was my world’s best cheerleader.  I loved making my Mom happy.  But, I also remember how sad Mom was when I moved out into my own apartment at age 18.

I remember at age 19 marrying Pam, and seeing the tears of joy flood my Mom’s (and my Dad’s) cheeks.

I remember at age 20 when Mom was ecstatic that I’d just been named Manager of the year for Long John Silver’s in Tulsa.

Not to close the book on my chapter of memories with Mom, since they continue on with me to this day, as I am truly blessed to now be an almost 55 year old man with a healthy Mom that loves me, still prays for me, and only wants the best for all of her sons. 

But, the next chapter of our life did start with her first grandchild, as I remember at age 21 when Mom was at the hospital enjoying the birth of her first granddaughter, Jacqueline Renee.  Wow, and we’re off to the races again with 33 more years of memories that I’ve got to blog about another time.

I love you Mom.  Happy Mother’s Day.  Always and forever, - Michael

Pam, Jackie, Angela

An early Happy Mother's Day to Pam, Jackie, and Angela, and a big "we miss you" to Nanny.

Nanny (the world's best mother in law) truly loved me as her son.  In return, I loved her dearly, and miss her frequently. I think about her most at Mother's Day, at Christmas, and on her Birthday. She was a single Mom provider for many years of her young life, and though many of Pam's stories are sad, there could not have been a higher amount of love and respect provided to Nanny than from her daughter Pam.  To this day, that love and devotion that Pam showed to her Mom is clear and visibly evident in how she provides and loves our own daughters, and their children.  I love you Nanny, Happy Mother's Day, and I look forward to seeing you and Papaw in 52 more years.  Might seem like a long wait, but it's a vapor.

For Pam, my wife, my friend, my life. Wow, how can I say I love you any other way but in another language, so here goes.  Because of your Czech heritage, this is how you say it in Czech: "Pam, miluji tě celým srdcem.  Máš moji lásku, podporu a oddanosti. Možná jsem "Leader", ale vždycky jsem si " řídit " ti, ať jste kdekoliv.  What I just said was "Pam, I love you with all my heart. You have my total love, support, and devotion.  I may be a "leader", but I will always "follow" you, wherever you go.

For Jackie, my Boogie, my daughter.  Happy Mother's Day, I love you "with all my heart".  Will Parker is going to have women beating down his door asking him to marry them.  What a sweet, precious, and nearly perfect little boy you have been blessed with.  Owen Michael though is going to have to find a woman as perfect as your Mom.  Yes, he will charm them, but only the bravest of the brave will be able to withstand his bravado, his booming bass voice, and his intensity, (hmmm, most of that sounds like me . . .)

For Angela, my favorite black-headed daughter, Happy Mother's Day, I love you "with all my heart".  Ava Corinne is a maestro of emotion, and as sweet of a tender-hearted little dynamo of compassion that has ever taken a breath.  Wow, what this girl is going to do in life will be exciting to watch.  Emma Jo will just need a bed.  She's going to be so much easier to please if just allowed to sleep.  I love it when her tiny 4th generation long slender fingers hold my hand, and when she puts that little 4th generation peanut head into my face for a kiss.  

I love you girls, and I love watching you both love and raise your sons and daughters.  You are doing a great job.  I am as proud a Dad, and a Pappy as there can possibly be.    

Joseph Dale

Joseph Dale

Joe is the Italian stallion bum that married my baby girl.  No, of course he wasn’t good enough for Angela, but who would have?  They’ve been married for almost 7 years, and I’m just now starting to speak to him!  A very belated Happy 35th Birthday Joe!

I’m so late on his birthday blog that he actually thought he was going to escape it . . .

Joe has been a devoted and faithful husband, father, and provider.  He is caring, and is proving to be a great ‘daughter’ Daddy, which is a designation saved for only the best of us that raise ‘just daughters’.

Joe is full blooded Italian, and though his childhood pictures show him to be blond, he’s about as black-headed now as you can get; a trait passed along to his oldest daughter Ava.  Though Ava’s Mom Angela is dark-headed too; there wasn’t much of a chance that Ava would be fair-haired.

Joe taught me the love of a grilled boned-in Rib eye ~ which is now without question my all-time favorite steak.  I was first introduced to this culinary delight last July while on vacation, and was then immediately christened with the moniker of Boned Rib, by my ribbed brother, the original Rib eye Joe.  He may or may not be a dead-eye, but there is no doubt he is a Rib eye.

Another food treasure that we share the love for is his Grandma Franco’s Italian meat sauce.  Wow, that is the best meat sauce recipe ever made.  Bottle it, sell it; you’ll be a very wealthy man.

Joe is a ‘gamer’ in a different sense of the word from computer games.  Joe is well, let’s say, fanatical about football, bonkers for basketball, ga-ga for golf, bemused by baseball, hot for hockey, addicted to softball, salivating for volleyball, zealous for swimming, dedicated to badminton,  fixated by bowling, passionate about tennis, fervent for horseshoes, enthusiastic for darts, and keen for kayaking.  If it’s televised, he’s got it on DVR, or watching it live.  He’s got all 47 channels of ESPN, and the 114 other sport channels are categorized 1-114.  I knew Joe was a little over the edge when he was Facebooking about the score from the Davenport Iowa 4^th grade regional finals boys judo championship.  I’ll bet that match sure shot up the overnight Arbitron ratings for ESPN38!

Joe is a military man.  I actually can’t tell you how exactly, other than I know he is associated with the Air Force, and he is also a member of the Air Force National Guard.  It’s not that his occupation is secretive, it is just that I don’t understand it enough to write about it.  I know he travels frequently throughout the year, and though he is not routinely on patrol when he is in the middle-east, he still has work to do in those hot zones.  And yes, he is going to be deployed to Afghanistan for 6 months later this year.  Our love and prayers are with you Joe; and by God’s grace, may He build and sustain His hedge of protection around you.

Happy Birthday Joe, I love you.