I find myself...

...growing more and more depressed over the deep water oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico. Click here for a view of the live feed from the ocean's bottom, compliments of PBS. I suppose that my anxiety centers around two things: 1) The marine life affected by this leak and 2) the monstrous implecations for the people and industry along the Gulf coast.

Now anyone who really knows me understands that I love seafood. As far as Shrimp is concerned, I'm like Bubba Gump with a crustacean vendetta. I've eaten those little beady-eyed morsels steamed, deep-fried, boiled, broiled, grilled and raw. Jumbo, medium or popcorn. In a stew, on a bun, in grits, or just with plain with lemon and butter. But they are never better than when served Beaufort style with sausage, corn and potatoes. MMmmm.

So I suppose there is a #3 to my list above. I am saddened because there is a chance that my shrimp intake will diminish in the coming months and that really makes me a bit more than depressed. Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm piping mad because this doesn't just affect schooling fish, migrating birds or some Alabama coast tourist trap- by golly this affects me and my high cholesterol shellfish diet.

Darn you, BP! I'll never forget this... that is until it's time to fill up the SUV one more time. Well, suppose I can eat frozen shrimp for a few months.

Going To The Movies...

...are some of my best memories. Not because of the movies themselves, as most are inconsequential, but rather for the excitement of the movie experience with family and friends. How could I forget my first movie experience with Mom? It was a summer movie showing of Sinbad the Sailor, with some really bad but frightening claymation. Or my first movie experience with Dad, a drive-in showing of Walking Tall. I still love Buford Pusser and that stick, but what was Dad thinking?
In moments, I'm taking Jenna to see Shrek 4. Even now I'm excited. Not for the movie, but for the experience and the hope that one day she might fondly remember a day at the movies with Dad. Minus the stick, anger and violence. But who knows, I haven't seen the movie yet.

What was your earliest movie experience?

Watership Down...

...by Richard Adams remains one of my favorite novels from my teenage years. Although on the surface it is only a story of the adventures of rabbits, it is far more about human nature as demonstrated through various subcultures in the animal world of Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig and friends. The story is as compelling and interesting to me today as it was some 27 years ago. Here's an excerpt that stuck with me tonight:

(Regarding the rabbits visit to a strange land)-

"...When Marco Polo came at last to Cathay, seven hundred years ago, did he not feel- and did his heart not falter as he realized- that this great and splendid capital of an empire had had its being all the years of his life and far longer, and that he had been ignorant of it? That it was in need of nothing from him, from Venice, from Europe? That it was full of wonders beyond his understanding? That his arrival was a matter of no importance whatever? We know that he felt these things, and so has many a traveler in foreign parts who did not know what he was going to find. There is nothing that cuts you down to size like coming to some strange and marvelous place where no one even stops to notice that you stare about you."

The Lonely Toe...

...finally has a friend. You may recall that I blogged about my friend George's broken, lonely toe some months back. Well, over the weekend I managed to mangle the least appreciated appendage the male body. That is to say, the 4th toe, right next to the famous "pinky toe". Now, I've never had beautiful feet like my wife, but I have prided myself on straight, rather normal sized toes. Hey, celebrate the small things I always say. However, my right foot now has a toe which looks as if it is pointing out the north star to its less than interested siblings.

Here's how it happened: I took Leslie and the kids with me on a business trip to the Isle of Palms. We had a fabulous long weekend at Wild Dunes. I was able to work a convention by day and we played on the beach in the late afternoons. All had gone well, up until Monday morning the day we were to leave, when we decided to get in one last ocean swim before heading home. It was a bit rough out that morning and I came darned near losing my shorts to the sea on a couple of occasions. In fact, I'm pretty sure I scared away a family of Canadian tourists. It was during this time frame that the mother of all waves hit me from behind, sending me tail over teacups into the kids.

Fortunately, the girls made it out of the situation unscathed, but somehow my right foot jammed into the surf bending my 4th toe all the way back to the top of my foot (or so it felt). All I know is that when I came up from the white, foamy water I almost passed out from the pain. Upon brief examination I noticed that the toe was completely standing at a 90 degree angle from his 4 friends. I was sick.

It was not easy trying to make it from the water to where we had set up camp, some 30 yards away. By the time I reached Leslie I had to lay down in the sand to keep from passing out. I rested for a few minutes while Leslie and the kids packed up and then we headed for the hotel, another 200 yards away. Several times I just had to lay down in the sand to keep from fainting. (Yes I realize I sound like the ultimate pansy, but it was as seen by x-ray the next day, completely broken)

Now, here's what other people on the beach saw from their lounge chairs: A middle-aged, out of shape, grossly pale father of two emerges from the sea, screaming like a school girl (probably scared he saw a jelly fish, or something). He's obvious drunk because he staggers up the beach, collapsing several times and just lays there for a while. His pants are falling down as he finally makes his way back to where his wife is sitting on a towel reading a book. He screams something about leaving and then lays down for a short nap while his wife and kids pack up all the stuff. He eventually gets up and stumbles back to the hotel, not carrying a thing, lays back down a couple more times with his face in the sand and then eventually stumbles out of sight.

"Did you see that guy, Margaret?"

"Sure did, Stanley. Reminds me of my Uncle Roddy on a bender, and it's not even 10 AM. Darn shame, I'd say".

"Yeah, he did have a nice left foot though".

Insignificance...

...is one of the greatest fears that we humans deal with. Ask any 40 year old man who drives a sports car. Or any woman mad at being left out of the supper club. Or any teenager who thinks of themselves as utterly forgettable. We place our value in things, acceptance and adoration and not in what ultimately counts.

It's not that we are truly insignificant, but it's that we often feel small or, worse, overlooked completely. Isn't it wonderful that we have a Father in heaven who says that we are anything but forgettable. He knows the very number of hairs on your head. For those who may be follicularly challenged and less than impressed, he goes a step farther stating that the number of thoughts he has for you numbers the sands of the ocean. You are, after all, his ultimate masterpiece.

What? You don't feel like a masterpiece? True, like anyone, you are not perfect and live in a broken world. But insignificant? No, you are a creation worthy of the constant thoughts of a Creator. Amazing.

In fact, I'm thinking about calling each one of you, dear friends, and letting you know that you are on my mind. But, alas, I have misplaced your numbers. And most of your names.

Daisy Is Very Different...

...than our previous love hound, Flossie. For one thing, she ain't the brightest bulb in the box. But for what she lacks in intelligence, she makes up for in love, laughs and a heavy dose of cutiepieness.

For instance, yesterday I spent quite a bit of time cleaning her up, nice and tidy, spic and span. It's a bit tricky because she does pretty well until it's time to rinse. Then she decides she's had enough, thank you very much, so you'd better keep your grip her collar (tail works too) or she's gone, suds and all. She might be 50 pounds of SC ditch-dog, but she can run like a scalded cat when inspired.

Anyway, I've been very proud of my grooming efforts since yesterday afternoon. Today, however, I put a portable sprinkler in the backyard to drench a particularly dry part of the lawn. Apparently, the grass wasn't all that was thirsty because Daisy, as evidence, loves a bath- at least when I'm not there. And the best way to dry off after you've soaked yourself in the strange outdoor shower your master put out for you? Why roll in the grass and mud, of course.

I would kill her, but it is pretty hot out there. And I've never been able to resist an outdoor shower either.

Chow Fung...

...meekly walked onstage, her hands folded and eyes staring straight ahead. The announcer from the stage then began to read the laundry list of accolades earned that year, just a handful of her 7th grade accomplishments. Excellence in mathematics; Excellence in Language Arts; Excellence in Music, Duke TIP Grand Finalist; etc. etc. etc. The young Asian girl stood silent all the while, a bit embarrassed in front of the large audience, their wide-eyed faces looking on in astonishment at the length of time it took to read all of her awards earned.

My daughter, Meredith had gone sometime before young Ms. Fung, earning Excellence in Language Arts and Drama (this I know well). But I couldn't help but wonder what it must have been like to be the child collecting their awards, just AFTER Chow Fung. The poor child that did, a young lady earning a perfect attendance award, must have felt a bit... cheated. After all, this was her moment- a culmination of her investment meeting a bit of hard-earned recognition! Was is too much to ask for a little limelight? However, in the wake of Chow Fung her award fell on deaf ears, silenced by the tall shadow of an obvious genius. This poor girl, a victim only of the order of presentation had been, if you will, "Chow Funged". Her tiny candle extinguished by the backdraft of comparison.

I can't tell you how many times in life that has happened to me. I explained to my girls afterward that whatever the situation, as long as you have done your best- your very best- then you can be proud of your accomplishments. Comparisons in life are inevitable, however you should always celebrate your own accomplishments no matter how they look next to someone elses. The reality is, even Ms. Fung may not have accomplished all that she wanted in 7th grade. If that is the case, then too bad. Perhaps even the presentation of all those awards felt a bit empty to her. It's really a matter of what your goals are and what you personally achieve. The real secret, I suppose, is to make sure your goals are lofty enough to make you stretch for them. If you do, then that is enough.

Later that night, in celebration I took the family out for Mexican food, still in awe of my little red-head, Meredith. She delights me and makes me proud.

Have you ever felt cheated by a comparison? Who was your Chow Fung?

One Of The Things I've Noticed...

...about my 11 year old daughter, is that she is always singing. Her favorite songs, however, are not even on the current top 40. Here's a list of her top songs:

• Jenny (867-5309)
• We Are the Champions
• Play That Funky Music White Boy
• Lonely Boy
• Sailing Away
• Jessie's Girl

You may have noticed from the list that one generation has heavily influenced the other. But wait, it works the other way around too. For I currently have my own list of favorites, some of which I am not proud to admit:

• Shake It- by Metro Station
• 4 Minutes- Madonna (OK, technically she's from my era, but the song is not)
• Poker Face- Lady Gaga
• Hey Soul Sister- Train
• I Gotta Feeling- Black Eyed Peas (Fergie is hot, I'm sorry)
• Fireflies- Owl City
• When I Grow Up- Pussycat Dolls

What is one of your favorite songs from "back in the day" and one from today?

Saluda, NC...

...is a beautiful little mountain town, complete with antique shops and dazzling waterfalls. I am grateful for an opportunity to visit the family cabin of William and Martha Fanning, our hosts for 4 days in western NC. The mountain air and flowing streams really did our family wonders in terms of relaxation. However, I began to notice some strange changes to my girls. Hmmmm, probably just hormones.

What a Beautiful Evening...

...it was tonight as I watched the sun go down in a 70 degree paradise. This is my favorite time of year in SC. Just having thrown the Frisbee with the dog, I settled into the hammock and viewed the blackening silhouette of the trees against the fading blue of the sky, specks of starlight beginning to appear. As the frogs squeaked and croaked in the distance, the fireflies began to come out of the tops of the trees slowly descending closer to the ground, yellow caution signs flashing. A squirrel played noisily in the fallen leaves of the woods to my right and a owl hooted from somewhere in the distance, still deep in the shelter of the trees. To my left, Jenna was practicing piano in our living room, a disjointed version of Dukas' The Sorcerer's Apprentice and Leslie was in the kitchen preparing the family meal for the evening. Bats occasionally fluttered over my line of sight and the hammock creaked as it rocked gently back and forth.

Then, slowly descending on a silk string, a spider landed in my lap and I popped out of the hammock like a spider monkey on crack. As nice as it was, it was over for me. That squirrel was starting to get on my last nerve anyway. Still, I do love this time of year. Well, my allergy medicine awaits. Good night dear friends.