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Posted on

second guessing

OD'd.
Both a relaxing and productive weekend, the perfect mix really. Spent Saturday on the lake, in the first “taking advantage of friends with boats” outing of the year. The weather was really nice, but the water was frigid – so we mostly just enjoyed being out there, although some of the hardier did do some wakeboarding (not me). Sunday was spent doing subterranean sprinkler repair in the front yard. Got a lot done, and got a lot of nothing done too – the ideal balance.

With the dirt now cleared from the backyard, I’ve been doing some serious research into the project-completion budget. Right now the big one is the patio. Been looking at pavers and concrete, and estimating cost. I think with concrete we can get away for just under a grand, not sure about pavers – but I suspect they’d be more. I guess the patio will have to wait until we save up a bit. I estimated the sprinklers and irrigation at about $300 after supplies and tool rental, so that seems a lot more attainable. I think I’ll mark off the porch area and run sprinklers and drainage this weekend. Sod, trees, and foliage come last – but those are still a few paychecks off. If Sharaun gets that afterschool tutoring gig for an extra $400/mo and our refi nets us $400/mo as well – things could move faster than expected though.

Speaking of the greens, seems my rule about money stills holds true: “There’s no such thing as extra money.” Why? Sharaun was driving behind a truck on the way to work today and it let loose a bunch of gravel. Cracked her windshield top-to-bottom and chipped/dented the hood all up. Right as I’m thinking we may have a little extra scratch in the next coming months too. Figures. Total estimate for backyard completion – $4000. That means the whole backyard will have cost me about $8000 when it’s done. Not too bad I guess, but not the cheapest thing in the world either.

This weekend I re-read my last entry – and decided that I don’t like it. It ended up sounding like some glorification of my stupid youth. Sounded to me like some high-school kid writing about some “awesome drugs” he took last weekend at a party, and how he was “so effed up.” Anyway, I want to steer clear from using those stories as a crutch for filler – and make this thing more topical and relevant to today. Sure some of them are funny, but reading back they kinda make me look like some recovering junkie. Anyway, that stuff is old ‘n’ busted, today is the new hotness. So shape up blog! I got plenty of stuff to write about: I own a house, I’m opening up an online retail store, I have a wife, there should be plenty to keep the entries coming.

Dave out

Posted on

sucking ice

Smokey 3D!.
I went to the dollar store a while ago, and I bought a bag of marbles. I haven’t done anything with that bag of marbles. It’s still sitting here on my desk cinched up like the day I got it. Why did I buy these marbles guys? I know why. Because I love marbles. I always have. Marbles are so cool. Something about little glass spheres with wavy colors in them. They are awesome. I remember my brother and I used to try and play the “real” marbles? you know, with the circle and all? but it never worked out. I like the sound they make when you crunch them around in your hands. Marbles are awesome y’all.

It’s about 9:30pm right now, and I’m sitting here with all the windows open. I’ve got on a button-down Hawaiian shirt that’s not buttoned, just letting it all hang out as they say. An awesome breeze is blowing through the house and I’m listening to some group called “The Autumn Defense” that I just downloaded from the newsies. Apparently, they have some kind of familial relationship to Wilco. They kind of remind me of Buffalo Springfield’s softer moments, good music for a warm night alone with the windows open. Not sure the album’s good enough to not delete – but it hits the spot tonight. Sometimes complacency and contentment is only a nice breeze and good song away.

Word is I’m headed back to Taiwan in two weeks. I actually suggested this trip. There are some things I wanna take care of in person over there – to make the right impression. I’m excited, I really like it over there. Also turns out Ben will be there for the beginning of my stay, and Pat and Wes will be there towards the end. Also some of the other Taiwan-travel regulars will be around, so it should be a good time. Looking forward to some more mantis-prawns and chicken heads. Bring your worst Taipei, I’m ready.

I got a tattoo one morning, my freshman year in college. Jeremy, my roommate at the time, and I were skipping class as usual. Driving around by the river listening to Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness (on of the classics of my generation, by the way). We would always skip our morning classes, go buy some chili-cheese nachos from 7-11 for breakfast, and head down to the river. We’d usually just sit and talk, him smoking his Newports and I my Djarums. When I was in high school, I used some spare time in drafting class to make a geometrically perfect Traffic symbol. Traffic was a band from the late 60s to mid 70s, Steve Winwood came from Traffic, and are one of my favorite bands. Anyway, I always kept it in my wallet – because I always knew one day I wanted a tattoo of it.

This morning I got the urge, and stopped at what, looking back, was probably not the best tattoo parlor in Florida. The place was called “Altered Images” I think – and it was housed in a trailer off the freeway, next to a small flea market. But hey, it was like 5min from college? so it was an easy target. When we walked in, the lone artist was sitting on a couch with a large snake. He put the snake away, and I showed him my drawing. I pointed to where I wanted the ink, on my chest above my left breast. He sat me down, had me sign the AIDS waivers, shaved my chest and transferred the image to my skin using deodorant and colored pencils.

Before I knew it I had the black outline of the symbol on me. Before we filled the shape in with red, Jeremy and I went outside for a smoke. I remember thinking what an awesome morning it was, and how glad I was to not be in class. I went back in and laid on the table while he finished. After a while, he said “I’m done. Oh, and I added a cool ‘smoke’ effect to give the thing a real 3D look like it’s standing off the skin.” Umm? excuse me what? I mean, this is my first tattoo and all, but is it normal for a tattoo artist to take some artistic liberty when he inks? I never asked for this gay-ass “smoke” effect! It makes the outlines look all fuzzy and messed up. In fact, I think he messed up and tried to do something to cover it up. Whatever, I gave up the $80 and was outta there. I’m still glad I got it. It gets recognized. It got recognized while I was drug-stuck to the New Orleans dirt one afternoon. “Hey, nice Traffic tattoo,” some guy said as I watched legs go by – my eyes the only muscles I could move. Wanna hear about it?

Flash forward a year or so. Jeremy and I decide to take a trip to New Orleans to see Jazzfest. Jazzfest is the biggest thing in New Orleans next to Mari Gras. There are literally hundreds of musicians in town, playing in clubs, arenas, and on a huge open-air fairgrounds. We went specifically to see Van Morrison. Which is where our story begins. We drove down to the French quarter and caught a cab to the fairgrounds. We were standing in a huge crowd waiting for Van to come on stage, when some guy in front of me started smoking weed from one of those fake ceramic cigarettes. He offered me a hit, so I took it. Now, I hadn’t smoked anything in years at this point, and I have always been a lightweight? so that one hit had me feeling just about perfect. Van got on stage and the show was great.

Around the third song, an Asian kid wandering by asked me if I had light. He was holding a joint, and I knew that if I offered him my lighter – he’d reciprocate by offering me a toke. Now, I really didn’t want a toke, but I offered the lighter anyway – sparking his joint as he inhaled. He then proffered the thing to me with a smile. I’ll never forget the blue Sonic Youth “Washing Machine” shirt this kid had on. I took one hit, handed the joint back, and immediately knew something was very wrong. Whatever I had just inhaled was now seemingly expanding tenfold in my lungs, kicking like a horse to get out. I felt a feeling I’d never felt before, something different in the smoke itself. I turned to ask the kid if the weed was cut with something, but he was long gone.

So there I stood. Well, for about ten minutes I stood. Then I sat. And finally I laid down. I was completely out of it. I can remember sweating like I was in a sauna, just dripping with sweat and not wanting to move. At this point, I think Jeremy was a little embarrassed that he was with me – and was totally ignoring me while watching me out of the corner of his eye. I remember someone coming through the crowd and asking if I was OK. I remember someone misting me with a spray-bottle of water, and finally some kind soul dropped a huge chunk of ice near me – seeing I was obviously dehydrated. I sucked on that piece of ice for almost the entire show, I can still see the bits of grass and dirt on it. All I remember from the music is the pounding bass I could hear with my ear to the dirt.

When the show was over, I could hardly stand up. I made Jeremy carry everything we had brought in, because for some reason I didn’t think I could carry things and walk at the same time. It was so busy getting out of the park.. we didn’t make it to a cab and back to the car for over an hour. By that time, I guess I was acting pretty together – because Jeremy let me drive us back to the hotel. About halfway there, while driving down the highway, I suddenly let out an expletive. “What?” Jeremy asked. “Dude, we forgot to get the car!” I replied. Yeah, he made me pull over and let him drive. Whatever was in that joint besides weed, I didn’t like it. Didn’t have any grass after that for another two years, and only then because it was the Grateful Dead festival. I mean, c’mon right? Who doesn’t eat a Ganja Gooball or three at the friggin’ Grateful Dead festival? Ever heard Dark Star?! Try listening to that awesome song and not eating some chocolate-oatmeal bud-candy.

But guys, I don’t do the drugs anymore. Haven’t partaken of any of that mess since college. No plans to ever again either. Stay clean guys, it’s more funner anyways. I promise. And now, the weekend. Until Monday – Dave out.

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through the years

Time travel is lonely.
Trying to remember one key thing from each grade of my pre-college life. Here is what I can remember, or at least – which events came to mind right off the bat when thinking back on each grade.

First grade. This one’s easy, I put a rock in my ear and it stayed there for a long time. You can read the whole story here.

Second grade. Shane and I stole some chalk from Mrs. Klein’s chalk tray, and drew a naked woman on the blacktop during recess. We didn’t know quite how to depict the female genitalia, so we asked a passing girl “How do you draw a pussy?” She just told us to put a big capital ‘W’ with some hair around it. Oh man did we get busted. As the janitor escorted us up to the principle’s office, I remember him saying “If you were my kids, I’d beat your ass.” What I wanna know is, how did that girl know?

Third grade. I think this is the year I started out going to a different “gifted” school. I hated that school, plus I had to take the bus to get there. I was back at my normal (for Montessori, anyway) school in under a month. Oh, and Beth someone-or-other kicked me in the nuts one morning outside the classroom.

Fourth grade. A girl at school we all made fun of for looking like a boy wasn’t there one day. Word came down that she and her brother had been playing that weekend and he had hit his head on the corner of the coffee table and died. When she came back to school she wore all black the first day, probably one of the first days she hadn’t been made fun of in a while. Kinda changed my mind about teasing people. Our group won the game “Gold Rush,” which learned us about the California gold rush. We took our booty, a full bag of Rolos. Sarah Bean had an epileptic seizure in class and bit Mrs. Forinash’s hand as she tried to keep her own tongue from choking her.

Fifth grade. We got robbed, I had my first real “best friend,” and I moved to FL.

Sixth grade. New kid in school. Wore all the wrong clothes and liked the wrong things. Punched Ricky because he took too long at the drinking fountain. Failed Algebra and got moved into “Math 3.” Math 3? This kids so dumb we’ll send him through “math” for a third time? maybe that’ll get it into his head. Met Sharaun.

Seventh grade. Got all my clothes from Ron Jon’s, now I was cool. Learned to shoplift. Punched Vic because he tried to take my candy. Discovered the Beatles.

Eighth grade. Met Kyle. Discovered Led Zeppelin and threw away all my clothes from Ron Jon’s, now I was a anti-cool. Fell in love with Kyle’s sister – to this day not much has made my heart jump as much as reading the coded letters we snuck to each other between classes. I can remember feeling like the world was mine when she wrote in code “I love you.” Started dating Robin and had my first kiss.

Ninth grade. Took Angel’s Trumpet. Broke up with Robin, got back together with Robin, cheated on Robin, broke up with Robin. Learned to drive. Smoked marijuana for the first time. Drank beer for the first time.

Tenth grade. Decided I wanted to date Sharaun. Saw my first indie show: Poster Children and L7. Made prank phone calls. Threw my first keg party while my family was in Washington DC, how the eff did we get a keg in 10th grade anyway? Lost my virginity. Started dating Sharaun.

Eleventh grade. Sharaun.

Twelfth grade. Started going to church, accepted my Lord and Savior and was baptized to receive the Holy Spirit. Yeah, for real. Got suspended for beating up a kid who pushed Sharaun. Cheated on Sharaun. Won a cruise to the Bahamas.

Looks like we can save about $400/mo by refinancing the house right now. The neighbor across the street just sold his place at $245/sqft – which is awesome for us. Bring on the savings.. I’m totally ready. Until tomorrow, Dave out.

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the absolute coolest thing in the world

You rogue! This cardboard doth turn the finest steel!
Somehow I got back around to listening to the Decemberists. Man, these albums just make me feel so good. I love the lyrics and the imagery, they’ve got to be some of my absolute favorite albums in a long time.

Saw this link today which kinda put a smile on my face. A website wrote a letter pretending to be a 5th grade student, asking senators for their favorite jokes. Then they waited for the responses and published them. I think the senators that took the time to write back, especially in their own hands, are awesome for doing it. Some of the jokes even made me chuckle. I realize it must be hard to sift through the piles of mail these people get every day – but I think it’s cool that some staffer put these particular letters through to the senators and they actually took the time to respond. Why am I talking about this? I dunno, let’s move on.

Been evaluating some refinancing options for the house lately. Seems we can save a good deal of money if we refi now. The house across the street from us, same floorplan and same half-done backyard, recently appraised for $80k more than we paid for ours only 10mos ago. With that amount of equity and the rates where they are now, I think we’d be stupid to not refi. Plus, a reduction in our monthly payment would be a godsend. Since we couldn’t come up with the 20% downpayment, we’ve been paying some $300/mo in mortgage insurance. That’s money down the drain. With an appraisal that nets us 20% equity we can get out of the insurance, and get a lower monthly payment too. I have a meeting with a couple brokers today to discuss the finer details.

I got a note about yesterday’s entry from a friend at work, and I was kind of surprised because I’m still unsure who even reads this thing. Made me feel good because she said she could “… identify with the cooking… and the sports… and the pants that are supposed to be regular but are always 6 inches too long… and wondering how penguins have sex…” So, someone’s reading… not that it would really matter, I would probably write anyway. From the look of the last three paragraphs, it seems that I am trying to make this the most non-cohesive and random entry ever. There goes the slim audience I’ve somehow managed to keep up to now. For really though, I’ve been doing this thing for six months now? I’m pretty proud of that.

I remember when I was a kid that my dad did a lot of cool stuff for me. I hope that one day I can do cool stuff for my kids too. One day he made these elaborate cardboard shields for my brother and to swordfight with. He had taken the encyclopedia and either copied or blown-up and traced some mythical images on the front of the shields. Mine was a Pegasus, and I think Frank’s was a Minotaur or something. They were hand-drawn in red marker, and I remember thinking they were the absolute coolest thing in the world. I also remember my dad helping Frank and I write messages, stuff them in airtight beer bottles, and driving us to the pier to toss them in for potential castaways to find. I think the whole message-in-a-bottle idea was his, and he had us put some contact info in there in case anyone ever did find one. What a cool idea of something to do with your kids. One time I also saw him haul off and smack a dog in the head with a shovel, man dog’s yelp with they get smacked with shovels. Oh, the dog was mauling my little brother at the time – so it’s cool. Don’t sic PETA on me.

That’s it for today. Sorry. Dave out.

Posted on

pigs: can’t catch a frisbee

We don't need no education!
The other day I got a letter in the mail from the Oxnard, CA police department. Seems that I double parked my grey Toyota in the 600 block of Mendoza Ave. last November. Now they want the $60 I owe them for the violation. Only one problem, I don’t own a grey Toyota and I’ve never been to Oxnard. So, I called them up and explained, and they dismissed the ticket. They explained it away as the ticketing officer’s fat fingers miskeying my plates. Whatever, that guy with a license plate close to mine sure got lucky. And I was thinking, couldn’t I just call up on any ticket and say I don’t own this car or this plate? I mean, he didn’t ask me a damn thing – not my name, not where I’m from, not anything. Just said “OK,” and dismissed the ticket. I’ll have to remember that, because it seems a lot better than actually paying a ticket.

I’ve been mapping out my plan of attack for the backyard, updating my backyard layout file and reading up on irrigation and sod. It’s amazing how much you can learn on the internet. I learned how to build my retaining wall on the internet, how hydraulics work on the internet, and how to make a Flying Crank Ghost on the internet. I also buy movie tickets, make appointments at the DMV, pay my bills, and balance my checkbook – all on the internet. I’ve made camping reservations, hiking reservations, airline and rental car reservations, hotel reservations – all on the internet. I’ve bought all manner of goods on the internet, I’ve found long out-of-print books and albums on the internet. I’ve even used the internet to sell stuff I no longer want. The internet has replaced maps, phone books, travel agents, long lines, middle men, newspapers and magazines, textbooks, checkbooks, and the embarrassment of renting porn. What would I do without ye, o’ glorious net of inter?

Did you guys know that a cow can go from a walking animal to a refrigerated side of beef in less than six minutes? I know people who have seen how meat is processed and gone vegetarian because of it. But really, I wonder when in the cow-to-meat process they find the product acceptable and not disgusting? People are fine buying packaged meat in the store, steaks and ground beef placed on white styrofoam and wrapped in cellophane. So at what point in the cow-to-steak transformation does the product become palatable to most?

For me, I could care less. I actually have a strong desire to learn how to properly clean an animal. I’m sure that somehow relates to my crazy need to feel equipped for a “desert island” survival scenario – but the point is that when I see a cow walking around, I can see a steak that’s not cooked yet. I have no problem associating the walking breathing four-legged animal with the meat that I cook and eat. I think some people see a cow as a cute animal, and a steak as something that comes from the grocery store. They forget all the blood and skin and muscle that used to be around that meat. It may as well have been formed spontaneously in a “meat machine,” where nothing with eyes had to die to create it. But something with eyes did die. It died when they shot a nailgun into it’s head, hamstrung it and slit it’s throat to bleed it out, and then sliced it ass-to-throat to let it’s entrails spill out into a huge drain in the floor. Still want a hamburger for lunch? See, I do.

I also think it’s interesting which animals we deem edible and which ones we don’t. When it comes down to it, I’m sure horse meat and dog meat and cat meat have a taste all of their own – and maybe they’re yummy. But I think as humans, we tend to not eat animals that show some form of intelligence or can be “affectionate” to us. Horses are smart, dogs are smart, cats are dumb as rocks but they show affection just like horses and dogs. So we don’t eat ’em. They can recognize us when we come home from work, they remember us – so we spare their lives. Cows are infinitely dumb, so they get turned into food. Chickens: dumb, turkeys: never purr when you pet them, pigs: can’t catch a frisbee – you’re all on our list. We’re gonna kill you and eat you. Take a hint from the lucky ones and get smart or start nuzzling us – then maybe we’ll elevate you to “don’t eat” status.

Soylent Green is people! Dave out.

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an honest-to-goodness dump truck

I saw this old guy on the web, and he needed some more exposure. Here he is.
Another gorgeous day in Northern California. If I don’t get some camping and hiking in soon I think I might lose it. This weather is just taunting me to get outside and get things done. Speaking of getting things done, the dirt-pile is gone! I thought it would never happen, but every last bit of rock and dirt is outta there. Before I go into the story, I just wanted to let you guys know that, as I write, I’m listening to one of the best albums ever made. Once upon a time in 1968, Mike Bloomfield, Al Kooper, and Stephen Stills got together to make a record. What resulted is, to me, a freakin’ masterpiece of free-form blues rock awesomeness. Honestly, I could listen to this album over and over and over. 1968 must have been amazing. The White Album, John Wesley Harding, Disraeli Gears, Super Session, Led Zeppelin (yeah, I know it was the first week of ’69, but that’s close enough), Sweetheart of the Rodeo, Traffic, Electric Ladyland, Astral Weeks, Bookends, Spirit, and so many more I’m probably leaving out. Yeah, what a year – and the Bloomfield, Kooper, and Stills album Super Session is just dripping with that sound. Turn it up.

So back to this weekend and the great dirt-removal project. All my planning and orchestration was wasted. I schemed with friends to borrow wheelbarrows, 2-ton trucks, dump trailers, shovels, and other implements of destruction. The plan was to use manpower to fill up the dump trailer, then drive the whole thing to the landfill and repeat until done. We got out there at about 8am on Saturday morning with shovels and picks and wheelbarrows – and starting filling up the trailer. After about 2 hours work it became painfully apparent that the shovel and wheelbarrow route wasn’t going to cut it. Around 10:30am I rented a Bobcat. I swore I wouldn’t rent one again, because I get nervous driving them around in my backyard. But the size of the project made it a necessary evil. The Bobcat filled up the trailer right quick. We hopped in the truck and headed to the dump. The trailer was extremely heavy, and the brakes on the truck could barely stop us. It was a little scary. Once at the dump, we backed into the dirt-dumping area and hit the hydraulic lift switch on the trailer. Of course, nothing happened. Turns out the trailer couldn’t handle the weight of the dirt. So Anthony and I spent the next half hour shoveling ? of the load out by hand. We were finally able to get the trailer to dump, and we took of back towards home.

One the way home, the realization that we wouldn’t be able to finish with the Bobcat/trailer model began to sink in. We dumped 9100lbs of dirt on that 1st run to the landfill, since a yard of dirt weighs roughly 3000lbs – we had only gotten rid of 3 yards? and by the looks of what was left that was only about a 10th of the entire job. Not to mention a round trip to the dump was an hour and a half excursion when you counted waiting in the line of cars to get in. It was obvious we’d need something with a bigger hauling capacity to get the job done right. So, I called up and rented an honest-to-goodness dump truck.

You know they let just anyone rent a friggin’ 10-ton dump truck? I mean, I was thinking – why not rent one and fill it with bombs and blow something up? Or go on a Vice City style rampage through the city streets? Anyway, the dump truck held 5 yards and could handle from 20-30 bucketfulls from the Bobcat. We were furthered screwed by the dump’s weekend hours – they closed at 4:30pm. By the time we got the dump truck filled up for the first time, they were already closed. That’s when I got the idea to call a buddy who had mentioned that he needed some fill. Turns out he wanted anything I could bring him, so we took it all up to his place. The trip was quicker than the dump too.

In the end, we removed about 28 yards of dirt. Five dump-trucks full and one dump-trailer full. Managed to get all the rented equipment returned on time, and finished the project to the tune of ~$450. More than I wanted to spend, but less than the $1k+ estimate I got from some professional hauling companies. Plus, it felt good to get it done under my own (and Anthony’s) power. As I was pulling out of the driveway this morning, I stopped, put the truck in park, and went to take a peek over the fence at the dirtpileless backyard. It just feels good to look at it. Next on the list is forming up the patio and trenching for drainage and sprinklers. If only we had unlimited funds? ’cause I can always come up with another project.


Pat pushes dirt around while I drop a load.		        
Anthony drove the ‘cat most of the time, here he is on break.

One thing I like about owning a house is that it’s given me the opportunity to learn how to do a lot of things I would’ve otherwise probably never tried. I’m not saying I’m a Mr. Fix It or a DIY posterboy, but I have gotten a little better with my mechanical skills. I’m nowhere near some people I know. A buddy of mine at work recently bought a house too, an older one that he’s really doing a lot of work on. Talking to him, it seems like he’s not afraid to do anything – he just takes a run at it and it normally comes out great. He recently redid the kitchen, and is talking about rewiring the whole house. Crazy. Maybe I’ll get a little more confident as I get some more completed projects under my belt. The backyard thus far has already done wonders.

Listen to Super Session y’allz. I implore you. Oh, and I don’t care what you think about the Stills – I love that album. Dave out.

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so i write them down

Weather.
Yeah. I didn’t write yesterday. What you gonna do about it?

Woke up this morning at 4:30am to hop a flight to Seattle. Tonight we hit Gameworks, some kind of fancy virtual-reality arcade which is somehow related to Steven Spielberg. It’s a business trip, but the weather here makes me want to do anything but business. I’ve caught the camping bug pretty bad lately, with the awesome weather we’ve been having this past week. Makes me want to get outside and get away. I’ll be needing that release soon. Right now I’m so busted-tired that I can’t focus.

I was gonna write about writing, but I read my old journal and found a nice summary from April of 2001:

Yo. Listening to CSN&Y’s “Deja Vu,” and totally reminiscing about the good old days when this music was brand spankin’ new to me and how amazing it all was. Seems like times gone by can always be remembered as “simpler times.” I think that’s what has crystallized those special years in my memory as the best of all things. I have had many great times in my life, and am in fact living some of the best right now – but I’ll still remember those middle school years (7th, 8th & 9th) as some of the absolute best.

Even with all the pressure and junior high social politics – the things we did and saw have just been permanently etched into my memory. I think it has something to do with the glory of discovery: doing, seeing, and living things for the first time. Experiencing things for the first time can only be done once. Just really becoming a person, and having so much fun along the way.

I wouldn’t trade those years for anything. They are the epitome of what I yearn for now. So much less responsibility, so care free, not knowing what to do but making a go at it anyway and laughing at the “seriousness” of others. I know, it’s all about being a kid – and I pity kids who don’t get to have that revelatory period, it takes a pretty balanced combo of curiosity, stupidity, courage, perceived invincibility, and somewhat lax or liberal parenting. But if all those planets line up at the right time, it can be a most wonderful thing – and I speak from experience.

So many memories that I don’t want to ever forget. So I write them down, however small and fragmented, just to get them archived somewhere – mainly for my own benefit. I’ve also thought about one day letting my kids read through these things. I wonder would I like to read something like this that my dad wrote? I think I would , once I was old enough to appreciate it. Even if it did make blatant references to drugs, sex, and other things I would of course forbid my children from getting into.

But, I guess that goes with the idea of not letting them in on it until they are old enough to understand or appreciate it.

Back to the 2k4. Dave out.