A deviation from the norm

I don't normally do these sort of "social networking" exercises, but after a month of reading the entries of a friend, I kept finding myself saying "...so, what would I choose for that day's entry???".

And then it struck me... might as well give it a go. Now that I've taken the plunge, I'm looking forward to it!

31-Day Movie Challenge Quiz:
The rules are simple:
a. Post a quote, a picture of the poster, and/or a clip for your selection

each day.
b. Make sure to include the title.
c. Have fun (obviously).

Day #1: Favorite Movie
Day #2: Least Favorite Movie
Day #3: Favorite Comedy
Day #4: Favorite Adventure
Day #5: Favorite Horror
Day #6: Favorite Suspense/Thriller
Day #7: Favorite Animated Movie
Day #8: Favorite Guilty Pleasure
Day #9: A Movie You Never Expected To Love
Day #10: Biggest Let-Down
Day #11: First Movie You Saw In Theaters
Day #12: The Last Movie You Saw In Theaters
Day #13: Favorite Documentary
Day #14: Favorite Satire
Day #15: A Movie With Your Favorite Actor
Day #16: Favorite Movie Based On A Book
Day #17: Favorite Movie With An Actor You Hate
Day #18: Movie You Can Watch On Loop
Day #19: Favorite Movie Based On A Historical Event
Day #20: Favorite Movie Based On A Historical Figure
Day #21: Favorite Musical
Day #22: Most Over-Rated Movie
Day #23: Most Under-Rated Movie
Day #24: Movie With Best Soundtrack
Day #25: Favorite Black and White Movie
Day #26: Cheesiest Horror Movie
Day #27: Favorite Oscar-Winning Movie
Day #28: Favorite Made-For-Television Movie
Day #29: Favorite Movie Based On A Television Series
Day #30: Favorite Re-Make
Day #31: Favorite Sequel

Play Ball!

Little League season has begun for the Welch household :) All three of our boys are playing this year. In the past, we have told the boys that they could only play one sport, and our two eldest had always chosen soccer over baseball. This year, we relented and told them they could double up.

And so, Matthew and Logan are playing baseball again after a 2-year layoff.  They are having so much fun!

Tonight, Matthew and Logan's team won 12-2.  Matthew and Logan both got on base, Matthew via a walk and Logan by getting plunked in the shoulder blade.  Both of them scored when wild pitches worked them all the way around the bases.  I was proud of the way Logan shook up the pain and ran the bases hard.

Ryan's team also won, 11-10.  I have not seen either of his games... Saturday I had to take Matthew and Logan to their soccer match, and tonight the games were at the same time.  I'm looking forward to seeing Ryan play this season.

I love my boys, and I love watching them play sports.  I'm so proud of them....

Random Thoughts while shopping at Walmart, 25 Mar 2011

1> Is Sue Grafton going to stop after she writes "Z"?

2> Do you remember as a teen, when you always *had* to look at the posters when you went to the store? When did we lose that? There were several in there today that I wouldn't mind owning.....

3>  Now that I've bought a new TV, am I going to suffer from "TV price envy" if prices continue to drop?

4>  What makes us choose which of the same brand of some item to pick when we take it off the shelf? (IE if there are 4 boxes of the same paper towels, which one do you grab?). It has to be in the same vein of science/mathematics as picking a urinal in the men's room. (You men understand what I mean... and the analogy only holds if all the urinals are unoccupied)

5>   Just saw a mom walk by carrying her 3-4 year boy. He was wearing a bright-red cowboy hat made of felt, in the "Woody" style. Greatness!

6>  There's a fine art to selecting bananas- getting just the right level of ripeness so that my boys do eat most of them but leave me enough at the end to make banana bread for Allison... :)

7>  We are no longer a single-loaf-of-french-bread family. Just the way it is!

8>  The last scene was the best. There was a young girl in the parking lot, putting the cart in the corral, and she was meticulously straightening and lining up the carts, as her bemused father sat in the their truck, grinning at me and urging his daughter to "come on, ...!". He was amused and yet wanted to go, but his smile told me one thing: this is a man who loves his daughter, and knows her personality. it was a great moment to end my "writer's trip" to Walmart: a wonderful little slice of this great and beautiful experiment that is the human race!

More time for the Muses...

It's been a long week at the domestic domicile... with my wife laid low by a respiratory infection, I've been working triple overtime keeping the train chugging along down the track, and by last Friday night, I was pretty worn out and frazzled.... So after Allison returned home in the afternoon, she ordered me to go out for a little while by myself. Groceries were needed, so I spent my "time off" at Wal-mart.

And then I decided something I'd never done before: I decided to pull my writing journal out and worked on it as I wandered through the aisles. I love writer's exercises, and one of my favorite to do is "lists", and one of my favorite type of lists is writing down the various nuggets of delightful oddity that my brain is capable of producing at the oddest times.

And this time, it was while shopping for peanut butter and other various sundry.

And guess what? It was refreshing! I had written down something in my writing journal for the first time in months. And that made me realize that I have been neglecting a very important part of myself... the creative half of my mind that needs to dabble in poetry, writing, art, and music.

This middle-aged dad and devoted husband needs the muse every so often to stay sane.

And so, somehow... by hook or crook, time must be made for these things, not because it is another task to cross off... but because it is almost as important as food itself for my well-being. I can play a little less Word Twist, or watch a little less TV... and spend that time instead with a pen, a pencil, a brush, a bow, or a piano.

And it begins here... this online vent for the mumblings of my life :)

The art of buttering a hot Spring Creek BBQ roll

One of my semi-regular joys in life is when I take a son out for some alone time with Dad.  Every son is different, and I try to cater these evenings to their particular natures, but it is very easy to please my middle son Logan.   One of his favorite meals is ribs from Spring Creek Barbecue, and I often have a 'buy one get one free' coupon for exactly that... so it is a slam dunk of an evening from Logan's point of view.

For those of you who live near DFW and have patronized Spring Creek, I need not describe the singular joy of their rolls, for you are well acquainted.  For you unlucky souls located in other longitudes, these rolls are little miniature loaves of heavenly goodness, baked right there in sight of the dining room, and a large tray or two are upended into a wicker basket, whilst still steaming hot, and then distributed around the room.  These things don't just melt butter, they draw it off the little squares of paper from several feet away... little yellow riptides splashing onto or into crusty brown goodness.

Logan has inherited his Dad's love of hot bread.  He enjoys it with relish, and it is always a highlight of these particular "Daddy night out" ventures.  But what I find even more fascinating is to watch him prepare the roll for consumption.  In order to perceive the joy and humor of the moment you must understand that Logan is not a terribly meticulous child about many things in life... he has an artist's sensibilities and the attention span of a middle child, so one would **never** accuse this handsome young man of being OCD.

Except when it comes to rolls at Spring Creek Barbecue.

I watch in fascination as he wields the knife as a surgeon might a scalpel, making a careful incision down the side of the loaf, in the exact vertical center.  Then the butter is carefully inserted into the roll, there to melt throughout the doughy Valhalla within.  I feel like I'm watching Han Solo stuff Luke into the Tauntaun so he can stay warm.  And, of course, (Logan being Logan), he is describing every step of this process to me, as if I'm an apprentice in the centuries-old artisan craft of Roll Buttering.  Maybe we should carve a wooden sign and hang it up outside, for Logan is a Master RollButterer.  And the utter joy, so endearingly child-like, that permeates his voice as he shares with his Dad, it warms my heart as surely as that roll will soon warm his gullet.

And thus I realize wherefore the meticulous nature of this act, from this son.  This, to him, is art-- his forte.  This is not culinary necessity, but rather the Oleo Fresco brushed upon the Sistine Roll.  And then consumed with all the lusty gusto of one who enjoys beauty and the tactile pleasures of the plate.

And it's a privilege to witness.  It makes a night out with my son, already a precious thing, even more remarkable.

Watch it, young man!

The other day, in church, I looked over at my wife on my left, and saw a young hand draped on her right shoulder. It startled me for a second, even though I knew perfectly well that it was the hand of my ten-year old son, Matthew. I leaned forward to sneak another glance at them, and saw my son, sitting up straight as an arrow, his arm tucked lovingly over the shoulders of his mom.

My son will turn 11 in just a few weeks, and it seems like only a short while ago that he preferred to curl up in his chair and burrow into our sides during the sermon. (For the record, his incredible little mind pays full attention, and could probably summarize the pastor's lesson better than some adults in the room...). In fact, he still likes to cuddle and burrow, showing that he yet hovers on the cusp betwixt little boy and young man.

But this was the first time I had seen this. He looked so grown up. I was filled for pride for this young man, who went off to Maine for seven weeks this summer, and came back a blinkin' teenager. I was proud of all he had accomplished, and how he comported himself with dignity and grace so far from home, and how respectful he always is..... and that he still loves his mother and wants to put his arm around her.

He's a good kid. He really is.

And he needs to move his arm. Those shoulders belong to me, young man!

Sailing, of a sort

This past Saturday, my family was invited by a dear friend to spend Saturday afternoon sailing on a local lake. He had rented a temporary slip at the lake's marina, allowing him to sail for multiple days on this holiday weekend without having to launch and trailer the boat multiple times. As our time to join him approached, I could tell that it would not be a great day for sailing, as the wind was much calmer than forecast. What should have been a day of sailing at or near the boat's hull speed was replaced with much floating and barely enough steerageway to control the boat.

However, I was struck by how enjoyable the day was, even though the wind let us down. For someone such as myself, who is head over heels in love with the ancient craft of sailing, I had anticipated that I would spend the afternoon being greatly frustrated. And I was pleasantly surprised to find that the other aspects of the day were sufficient in of themselves, resulting in a wonderful afternoon.

What aspects? I was out on a lake with my precious family, and a very good friend. I was not at work, nor at any of my other myriad responsibilities. The sun was shining, but it was not overbearingly hot. Even with the motor being used, the ride was enjoyable: pleasant and relaxing. I took advantage of the lack of need for trimming sails or any of the other work involved in sailing, and stretched my legs out and fell into a delightful stupor of relaxation. I reveled in watching the joy of my boys as they floated along in our 'wake' while hanging onto a floating fender.

All in all, I was extremely relaxed and pleasantly tired by the day's end. The kind of tired that one gets from a good day spent outdoors. The moral of this little story? I guess it's that a day, whether a normal day or a holiday, is what you make of it. It's an old fisherman's cliche that "the worst day fishing is better than the best day working".... and it applies to sailors as well!

(Full disclosure: I had the idea for this post *before* we decided to pay our friend for another night of the slip so that we could come back on Monday. But Monday was much better sailing- 9.5 knots and much heeling)