The Daft Scotsman hits the beach

Well, my clan surely does love to go on family vacations together. We don’t always get to take them each year, but this year after receiving a wedding invitation from some friends down in California, we decided to make a really big deal out of the whole ordeal and travel down to Cali as a family (Minus one…) for a week. It was an unforgettably fun time, with incredible experiences which are sure to be sweet memories for the rest of our lives.

I had to put in for the time off from work of course. And I’m really glad I took care of that some three months ago or so, because I don’t think I would have gotten it if I had submitted the paperwork any later. Work’s been kinda’ crazy and I’m a pretty well-loved employee, so it wouldn’t have been easy getting the time off on short or shorter notice. Nonetheless, I did get the thumbs-up to go, and I kind of counted down the days up ‘till my departure. My co-workers were all pretty bummed that I was going to be away for a week, but I was pretty excited. The day before I left, this song kept running through my head.

When Wednesday finally rolled around we bopped down to Sea-Tac much too early in the morning. The flight down to Burbank was actually pretty basic. I love flying, and jet liners can be tons of fun, but the Seattle to Burbank flight was just not all that eventful. Getting a family of nine with all our carry-on luggage and… whatnot… through airport security was all sorts of fun, though. You have to read that last sentence with a voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm. Because really, it was insanely stressful. Checking as much luggage as you can, before you even reach the security checkpoints, is the smartest way to travel. Perhaps not the cheapest, but for sure the smartest. Anyway – we all made it through security and reached our gate with plenty of time to spare, so we hit Starbucks to keep from hitting the floor. About the time our coffees were gone it was time to board the plane and off we flew to Bob Hope’s lively and tiny little airport in Burbank, California. Like I mentioned the flight was uneventful. No gremlins on the wings, no crash landing off the coast of a deserted island, and no bogies on the horizon. Smooth flight, smooth touchdown. And then it was the mad scurry to gather the crew into the rental van. We visited Grandma first, which was lovely. She took us for a walk around Glendale and took us for lunch at one of the coolest Mexican restaurants ever. The atmosphere was delightful, the food was incredible. It was a good time. We walked Grandma back to her house and then took off for the condo Mom and Pops had reserved for our week-long stay in Cali. It was situated in North Hollywood and turned out to be a charming enough little place. I’m not the kind to go about taking pictures of all the rooms, but it was cozy little den and suited us rather well.

Matty finds the switch for the ceiling fan...

It was a nice fan...

On Thursday it was off to Disneyland. I had never been, and neither had a one of my siblings, so we were all absolutely bloated with excitement. Pops made record time and we were there in something around an hour. (Really – that’s a pretty short drive for our family as we’ve grown accustomed to longer commutes.) We found a nice parking spot and were in the park not long after, with pops already feeling the burn in his wallet. Entrance cost to The Happiest Place on Earth is a little over astronomical. Basically put: getting in ain’t cheap, son. From there we kind of just meandered the park. Most of us were just shell-shocked with amazement as we staggered around. And I’ll tell you, the place oozes immense quantities of charm. The rides are adorable, the themes are fantastic, it was a lot for our poor, over-stimulated systems to handle. We rode on a lot of rides, stood in a lot of lines, ate a lot of sugar, absorbed a lot of sun, and absolutely over-dosed on amusement. People are always telling me that Disneyland is quite over-rated but I find myself more privy to believe it under-rated! I had so much fun!

Just... so... magical...

Bethy and me waitin' on the bathroom-goers...

 

We also spent a fair bit of time shopping around the park. Despite the honestly ridiculous price tags, a number of us were dead-set on bringing home wearable souvenirs to flaunt. The three eldest ended up purchasing sweatshirts (As well as a couple antenna toppers for me…) while the younger folk in our company chose toys and plushies. All items were priced as to leave the purchaser lame and blind by the time the transaction was complete. But while I continue to complain about the pricing of pretty much everything about Disneyland, I have to continue to reiterate the amount of sheer enjoyment I got out of the park. Because really – it was an incredibly fun way to spend an afternoon. Between the gorgeous weather and the over-powering charm around every turn, it was nothing but unforgettable buckets of joy. The best word to describe it all? Magical.

LEGO Hulk at the LEGO store just inside Disneyland...

Matty, Hannah, and Me in line for Space Mountain. (Our favorite!)

 

We spent most of Friday with the family of an old friend of Pops’. They were very gracious and generous hosts, and just really good people. All enjoyed themselves as we told funny stories and heard about Pops’ and his pals’ many crazy adventures from his Cali days. It was a good day which came to an end all too soon.

One of the primary reasons we even went on this hair-brained adventure was because our family had been invited to a wedding by some long-time friends of ours. It made for a little more difficulty in packing, as we had to be sure to bring appropriately fancy attire and all that implies, but we got it all figured out in the end. Saturday popped up right in the middle of our wonderful trip and that meant the wedding was upon us, so we headed off to the house of the same friends who invited us to wash and iron our wedding clothes and dress for the evening. They had their pool all ready for us when we arrived, so we all went for a quick dip. I enjoyed myself so much I entirely forgot how easily my white, sun-deprived man-flesh burns in direct sunlight and not until dressed and awkwardly making my way around the wedding did I realize just how well the sun had done its dirty work on my chest, back, and shoulders. After the happy evening came to a close and we’d made it back to our condo pad, I shrugged off my clothes to find my throbbing torso glowed red in the low-light. Needless to say, sleeping was far less comfortable from that point on. As were seatbelts, backpacks, and piggy-back rides. The wedding had been a pretty venue though. Catered by In-n-Out Burgers… And thus a very yummy venue as well.

Sunday morning was spent at Grace Community church. Somehow I expected it to be a bit bigger, from so many people telling me always how huge it was supposed to be. The services were packed with hundreds of people, but somehow it just didn’t feel as big as I had imagined. The service was nice enough though and spoken from the heart. After church we went out to Travel Town to check out the choo-choos and get some pictures. The place has changed since last I was there. Basically the entire park has been safe-a-fied as to keep younglings from injuring themselves and thus just about every train car or engine is off limits for all but observing from a distance. Also, nearly all of the miniature trains have been removed or something, because I remember there being a lot of them in all shapes and sizes, but I only saw three equally-sized tracks. Basically everything awesome about Travel Town is gone or changed. So now it’s just plain, old bore-o’town. The mini-trains for riding on were still there, though, and that was a fun aspect. Except for the fact that it’s supposedly free, yet they twist your arm for a donation of some kind. Jerks. Pops is way too generous. If it were me, I would have told them to go pound sand. After we filled up on disappointment we headed for the observatory from which one could see the iconic Hollywood sign. Upon arriving, though, we discovered that everyone and his mother decided that that very afternoon was an excellent time to steal our idea, and the road was lined with hundreds of cars. No parking. Bomb-out. Instead, we drove around with Mom and Pops as our tour guides filling us in on the significance of different buildings and places that had once been very, very familiar to them.

Hannah and I spied as many Mini Coopers as we could during our drives.

Monday was spent chilling at the condo. Grandma came for a visit and we chattered a bit. Then she said goodbye and we loaded into the van and headed out to our friends’ place (The same place where I received my awful Sunburn…) for supper and fun. It was an enchanting evening, really. Though I decided not to swim this time around and instead tried my best to burn my legs so that they’d match the most of me. (It didn’t work… my legs are tougher. They’re kilt legs…)

We spent Tuesday at Longbeach. Browsing the shops and sitting in the sand. It was a beautiful day, albeit a little breezy. I loved every minute of it though. We ate at a little taco joint which has the best fish-related Mexican food I’ve ever had. Our clan just about cleaned them out of chips and salsa though. Also – Hannah found a dead cockroach in her dish… which was an interesting ordeal. It was yummy food nonetheless!

Long beach...

...

 

From the pier...

 

Oil rigs are so cool...

 

Gorgeous Californian sunset...

 

...

 

Wind-blown hair and a sunburned face...

Almost gone...

 

Hannah is such a beach-girl...

Goodbye...

 

The next morning meant packing up and heading to the airport. After fighting our way through the ticket-booths and security, we made it to our boarding gate. On the plane, though, finding our seats somehow got rather complicated and we ended up shuffling around a bit. Of course during our trip my Zune had to throw a little fit, which meant I had no music to listen to on the flight back to Seattle, which only forced me to pay attention to my book and burn through some seven or eight chapters. (That’s really good for me… I’m a slow reader.) Getting onto that plane was a really sad thing for me, though, in more ways than one.

I certainly was glad to get home to my friends. But I had made so many fond memories in Cali, I didn’t want to leave those places and times behind. I also had fallen in love with the gorgeous weather and was sorry to return home to rainy Washington state. I also have a sinking suspicion that this was probably the last family vacation we’d be taking together. Already Sarah had been absent so in a way it wasn’t truly a family vacation, but the rest of us had been together and had had so much fun. It was saddening to think this group probably wouldn’t be traveling together again anytime soon, if ever again.

It was an amazingly fun trip. And I’ll remember the times we had and the laughs that we shared for the rest of my life.

Rantin' 'bout window cranks...

I'm a writer. And sometimes we writers only get contentment out of laying down a rant. Because while complaining is horribly unattractive, writing it out can be surprisingly satisfying.


I drive a 1996 Suzuki Sidekick. It's a lovely little car, really. And while she has her quirks, I still enjoy her quite a bit. But, she has one quirk which is quite irksome. Her front windows don't roll up straight, they lean a bit, and one has to slide the glass a bit and then crank the handle a bit, slide, crank, slide, crank... Ugh!

This can be challenging when driving, as customarily one drives with at least one hand on the steering wheel. Somewhere around four months ago I was driving to work, and needed to roll my window back up. Instead of stopping my car to fiddle with the window, I decided to thrash down on the crank and force the window up. It had worked previously a couple times, so why not try again?

Well, this behavior proved to be very naughty. I was rewarded by hearing a sharp crunching sound. Oh the joy! And the window crank was proven utterly useless. Well, useless at rolling the window up. But I thought maybe it had just gotten knocked out of alignment, so I rolled it all the way down in hopes that it would re-engage, and I'd be able to roll it back up. No dice, son.

So there I was, driving a near-hour drive to work, at two-o'clock in the morning, the entire way with my window rolled as far down as it could go. I turned up the heat, but it didn't really help any. Later that evening (While I was sleeping...) my dad pulled off the door paneling and got the window rolled back into place, so that I wouldn't have to worry about folk breaking in and stealing my stuff. My dad's awesome.

Fast forward a bit, I finally decided it was time I fixed that window. So I discovered that the 'regulator' was the part that was broken (Stripped out by the force I put into thrashing on that crank.) and that I could get one for about forty bucks on eBay. I made the order, the piece arrived, and it sat in my car's boot for the next two months. A couple sunny days inspired me to break out my elbow grease and get the darn thing fixed. Because I really like driving with my windows down when the weather's nice around these parts.

So. I pulled out the replacement part, collected my tools, turned a radio on really loud, and got to work. An hour later, I had gutted the door, removed the old regulator, and was scratching my head and wondering why the sodding replacement part wouldn't fit. Was it the wrong part? It was the wrong part, wasn't it! Ah - man!

The guy I bought the part from clearly stated 'No Returns or Exchanges' and my buyer protection through eBay was only with 45 days... so I was stuck with the part. The part I couldn't use. Dang. Sidekicks come in two versions. Two door soft-tops, and four door hard ones. I think this part is for the two door version, where-is, mine's the four door one.

So... I called up a salvage yard that supposedly specialized in Suzuki automobiles, waited on hold for ten minutes, asked if they had the regulator I needed, and they said they could have it in a couple days. Really - I wanted then and there, but what could I do? So I made the order. The hundred and eight dollar order. At the end of the week I still didn't have the part, nor had I received a call about my order, so I called to find out if they had it. The guy on the phone accused me of not being patient so I kinda' just hung up and pouted. I'm impatient, huh? You had me on hold for ten minutes before even asking what I needed, and you accuse me of being impatient? Bugger you!

So yesterday I drove out to the yard, told the guy he was rude, and had him check up on my regulator order. He had my hundred bucks, and I'd driven forty-five minutes out to his yard, he'd better give me some sodding service! He ended up being pretty good about it, even taking me out into the yard to go through doors. But to no avail. They didn't have my part, and the folks they had ordered through hadn't even shipped it at that point. So I politely requested my money back and headed back home.

And now here I am. My only bet is ordering the regulator online, because no-one within an affordable driving distance has one they could sell me. The best deal I can find is about eighty bucks. Which, quite frankly, sucks. I can buy two automatic, power window regulators for that much! So I'm wondering if it isn't more worth my time and money to just switch out my locks and windows to automatic ones. But what a project that would be! Ugh... Five months ago I never even knew what a window regulator was. Now I feel like I wish I never had had to learn! Bah!

So... if you're looking for a window regulator for your 96 Suzuki Sidekick, I have one I can sell to you for eighty bucks. Oh! And it won't even work! What about that? Sound like a deal? Yeah. I thought so too. Alright. I'm done ranting.

Chainmail

Not to be even the least bit confused with chain-mail which I consider pretty ridiculous. Just sayin'...

Those of you who don't know, chainmail was a thin, flexible armor worn by soldiers in the medieval periods. It was woven from chains of rings, hence the both clever and witty name. Chainmail was less expensive and easier to make than plated armor, so it was far more widely worn by military personnel. It also helped in filling gaps between the plates of armor suites. Basically, chainmail was your go-to-guy when you climbed from your straw mattress and scratched your head about what to wear to the impending battle that awaited you later that day.

Some folk go all 'olde' by spelling it with an extra 'L' and 'E' tacked at the end, and good on them for it. Wonderful show, and what not. But it doesn't really matter, and barely anybody knows what you're talking about in that case.

But what's the use of all this idle rambling? Well... when's there ever a use for it? The point (Because yes, despite what you may be thinking at this point, there really is a point to all this.) is I've been meaning to weave myself some chainmail for several years now, but kept being distracted and never really looked into it. But semi-recently I sat down and did myself a bit of research. Turns out, it's really not that difficult to make a bit of the stuff. And I picked it up pretty swiftly. So for those interested. I'll give you an idea of the process I use to make chainmail. Most of the tools and things that I use I bought at the Ace Hardware store where I work. Also - because I'm an employee there, I have a pretty out of sight discount which is incredibly handy when I have DIY projects like this one.

 



First, I built this little rig. It's made of an old two-by-four I found and a steel rod I purchased at Ace. The rod is 3/8ths of an inch in diameter and something close to a yard long. A shorter rod may have been more manageable, but it works well enough.

 

A drilled a hole big enough to slide my twelve-gauge wire through into the rod. Easy enough, actually, despite the rounded surface of the rod.

 

Before inserting the wire, I tighten a cordless drill onto the end of the rod. Then I slide a length of wire through the hole. Back in the middle ages, folks didn't have power tools. But I think the smithies of old will forgive me this shortcut. (It's not the first, and I doubt it'll be the last.)

 

Then I run the drill on a slow speed, collecting the wire on the rod. Pictured is only a small length. Usually I run wire 'round the length of the rod, so as to get as much rolled in one go as possible. Because really, in my opinion, this is all the most boring part of the job. I wear a nice pear of leather gloves while winding the wire, so as to keep from losing any fingers.

 

Once wrapped, the wire needs be cut on both ends. I try to preserve as much wire as I can, so I usually cut pretty close to my coils.

 

The result is a coil that very much resembles a long spring. Oh - what fun! I've never actually played around with these much, though, because I don't want to bend my wire. Getting it wrapped so close down the length of the rod is a task in and of itself, and I'm opposed to fooling around and ruining what I just put amounts of effort into.

 

Gawsh - it's cold out in that garage! Back in the warm house, I break out my bolt-cutters (The ones I got at Ace...) and clip away at the spring-like-thingy. I wear gloves for this job too, because they provide my palms with cushion. Because clipping twelve-gauge steel wire is tough work, son.

 

When finished, one has a pile of rings, all with an interior diameter the same as their steel rod. In my case, that's 3/8ths of an inch. The pile in the image is only an illustration. I get a lot more rings out of my springs than that. I think the pictured spring gave me something close to two-hundred rings.

 

Now the fun part begins, yo! The weave I've been using is the four-in-one weave. Basically, every four rings are attached by one central ring. In the picture, the five rings on the left make up the 'four-in-one' on the right.

It just makes sense to me, to make four four-in-ones and then weave those together.

The pattern continues. One ring for every four. Two four-in-ones make up the length on the right.

And again, one ring for every four. I use a pair of pliers per-hand to twist the steel rings into shape. (One which my dad gave me about a lifetime ago and one I bought at Ace Hardware.) On small bits like this, it's not difficult at all. But when working on larger lengths, the steel will start to get heavy.

 

 The bit on the left is four four-in-ones woven together. The one on the right is, you guessed it, four of those woven together. (So... then that's... four four four-in-ones?)

The length on the left in this illustration is the four four four-in-one pictured in the last photo. And the length on the right is only two of those. For as much fun as I find this to be, it's really tedious and made much easier by listening to a totally rad' playlist all the while. Which I do. I haven't finished weaving anything wearable yet, but I'm working on it. Hopefully I'll have my coife (Headpiece like a hood, usually worn under a helmet.) worked out and finished soon. Chainmail is awful fun to fiddle with, too. I know that probably sounds really random, but just fashion a small length and you'll be unable to put it down. It just begs to be swished around and shaken and dropped and... well, and worn. But I'm getting there!

A Daft Scotsman in the making...

        Scotsmen come in all shapes and sizes. I have the honor of knowing one of the most adorable wee' fellows this side of the Bonnie banks of Loch Lomond. Joel may not be an official Scott, nonetheless he has the bold heart of a Highland Clansman. His sister took it upon herself to stitch him a wee' kilt as a Christmas present. We wore our Highland costumes to the Christmas Eve service our church held, and certainly looked our very finest for the occasion.

       The wee' lad wore a cap which matched his vest, and completed his garb with a rubber knife tucked into his sock. I was quite impressed by his sister's ability to emulate the look of the kilt with her sewing. He really did look the part of a wee' Scotsman!

        Jo-jo followed me around the entire night. He refused to be separated from me. Even the likes of Wallace or Bruce never saw such zealousness in their followers. It was actually quite comical. Naturally, I was immensely flattered and accepted him as an honorary Scott and something of a protégé. Hopefully we'll have an opportunity to wear our Highland garb again soon.

An adventure...

 

Well, it's finally here and Matty and I will be off to pick up a friend, and then we three will be headed to the cinemas. Imax 3D will be waiting for us. We’ll be meeting another friend there, and the four of us will be watching The Hobbit together. We would have gone at midnight this morning, but work has been calling me in at midnight through holiday season, so that was a no-go.

 

 

 

Still – it ought to be immense amounts of fun! We're all really looking forward to it. I’ll be wearing my cosplay costume. Because I’m a dedicated nerd. It took me months to put it together and I still can’t believe I went through all the effort. (Actually I should be shouting out to PatricksPens over at ShirtWoot! for his beautiful artwork on this shirt. I really like his style. Oh - and the content choice, of course!)
 

 

It’ll be a long day for me, though, mostly 'cause I’ve been up since 10:30 last night. How will I be able to keep my eye-lids from unconsciously closing you might ask? Well - with a little help from a life-line of mine… Mountain Dew. I’m on a Mountain Dew binge. I’ve already drank several pints of the stuff and am ready for even more consumption. I've got a couple cases of assorted-sized cans, so I should be well-stocked. If one were to ask me, I’d tell him that Mountain Dew is the best carbonated drink available to man-kind. The stuff is just so great.
 

I cannot wait! This is going to be one immaculate night! Whoo! (Many apologies for this post and its apparent mindlessness. I really am a sane person... on most occasions.)

My dear, little friend...

             2003-2012

Goodbye Otis. Rest well my friend.



               The world washes about me. I roll onto my side, hear a beeping. That has to be the most annoying sound I’ve ever heard. My alarm clock. I stumble out of bed, switching off the alarm. I search the room for the things I’ll need today and pack them in my shoulder bag as I come across them. Then I notice my dog isn’t anywhere in my room. I search in all his usual haunts, not just in my room, but all throughout the house. Nonetheless, he can be found in none of them. Knowing I’ll be late to work if I don’t hurry, I take a quick shower, throw the last things I’ll need into my bag, and toss it into my car before deciding to do one quick search around the house. It all comes back to me in a rush – I let Otis out last night. Had he not been let back in? Had he spent the night in the rain? I hurry to each of the doors, checking to see if he’s there. As I near the back door, I see his small form curled up near the wall of the house. “Otis?” He doesn’t stir. I crouch down beside him, afraid to believe what seems to have happened. No heave of his sides, no sound of breath. I reach out – touch his furry coat. He’s stiff. I prod him, stroke him. No response. I make to lay my ear against him, but notice the glossy sheen, the milky film that covers what I can see of his eyes. I’ve seen enough dead animals to know. My Otis, my beloved pug-nosed-pup, is dead.

Tears well at my eyes; I don’t bother holding them back. They stream down my cheeks, collect in my beard. I can’t help but to cry. This dog was my friend. Yes, an animal, but nonetheless my friend. I still remember those nine years ago when he picked me as the boy to take him home. I still remember the shy puppy that crept out of the pet-crate to my arms, unsure of his new surroundings which would be his home. I still remember the morning I woke up to find his head on the pillow beside me, so natural, as if he had slept there all his life. From then on, he’d never willingly sleep anywhere else. I cry. Not just the hot tears, but the broken breathing. I break down and sob. I loved that dog, and now he was gone. He’d never do the many things he used to do. The many things that would bring a smile to my face, cause me to laugh out loud. He’d been such a good dog. Never been crabby when babies pulled his ears, twisted his tail, sat on him. He’d been patient with me, even when I forgot to feed him, even when I paid him no attention when he needed it, badly. He was a good dog, and I loved him. But now…

My crying wakes my parents. They come to find what’s wrong. I tell them, hardly believing the words that fly from my mouth. “Otis… Otis is dead.”

My brother tells me he was up late doing homework, but that Otis never came back to the door. Never asked to be let back in. They give me time. I call my boss, tell him I need the day off, I can’t come in. He sounds peeved. “It’s an animal, Caleb. You’re shirking your responsibility for a dead pet?” I hear it in his voice. He doesn’t say it, but I can hear it. I don’t care. I’m not going to make it in today. He tells me to call it in, make it official. So, I do.

I wrap my pet, my friend, in a towel; carry him in my arms out to a spot where I think a grave would be out of the way. It’s too wet. I think of another, carrying my puppy’s lifeless body and setting it down gently. The tears. My nose runs. The tears don’t stop. It’s raining, rain running down my face. Washing the pain from my face. I can do this. It’ll be alright, Caleb. Yes, he was your friend. He was your companion, your pet. The one creature on this earth that loved you undividedly… but he’s only an animal.

The rain drips from my chin, my nose. It runs down my neck as I dig. I’m no stranger to digging. I know how to handle a shovel. I’ve dug graves before. But not for my own dog. My shadow, cast by the flashlight I set on a rock, looks eerie as it slams the shovel into the ground again and again. I dig the grave, one shovelful at a time. I look at the towel where my dog is wrapped. I guess I didn’t do a very good job, his tail sticks out one end. The tears pour out again. That tail. The tail that curled. The tail that would instantly curl and wag the minute I said Otis’ name out loud. The tail that would straighten when the dog thought he was a puppy and ran around in circles, chasing, playing. That tail. I dig. The grave is finished. I unwrap Otis from the towel, lay him more straight, tuck everything in, roll him up. I lower him into the hole, into the ground. So stiff, so lifeless. A corpse. My puppy-dog is a corpse. With my bare hands I cover the small body with the dirt one handful, two, three, four. Then I just pull it all. I realize this signifies that I believe he is dead. I mound the dirt on the grave; it is only a small mound. He was a small dog. I stand and retrieve the flashlight, the shovel. Look down at the grave. Is this a dream? Do I have to live this? Can’t I just wake up? No. No. No! Not this! Not now! I knew I’d have to bury him someday, but why must it be today? What sign is this! What am I being taught? Why do I look for a hidden meaning? Why would there be a hidden meaning? Death is natural. It comes to every living, breathing creature at some time. It was just his time. Why? Why! The tears stream again. They mingle with the rain on my face. I can do nothing. It is finished. Before I go, I kneel by the grave. Place a hand on the mound of earth. Goodbye, Otis. Rest well, my friend. And then I’m walking back to the house, the rain still falling on me.

I miss him already. I go inside. Talk with my parents. “Get some sleep.” My dad says. But I can’t sleep. How can I? I sit up, reading. A diversion – it’s what I need. I want to cry more, but crying won’t help. I’ve cried enough. There’s a time to linger on the past, and there’s a time to move on. Jesus Christ, give me the strength to move on. You gave me that loving pet, and now you’ve taken him back. What would you have me do? As I look back, I feel I’m in shock or something. I still have trouble believing he’s gone. I think: what must it be like to lose a close friend, who’s human? Flesh and blood of man? I wonder if I’d survive that. Somehow I doubt I could without supernatural assistance. I guess I’m just protective of the people I love.

But now that this day is nearly at its end, I have to prepare for tomorrow. I’m expecting work to be awful like it always is. It will probably be worse. I’ll expect no sympathy. Before I accept this day as done and over, though, I feel I need to do one thing. I pray. Father in Heaven! I call. Lord God, Creator of Heaven, Earth, and all Creation. You giveth… and you taketh away. Take what you will, Lord. It is yours. All is yours. I am only the steward for the time you have me to be. And when that time is up. Lord, take what is yours. All is yours. Jesus Christ, Savior of man, halleluiah! Praise be to you and your grand will. I am your servant, Father. Do as you will, not as I will. Thank you, Lord, for Your gift; Your generous gift. Thank you for those nine years with Otis. Praise be for your glorious will. Amen.

I look to tomorrow in a new light. I’ll miss my dog. I’m sure the scars will take some time to heal. But this, yes even this, is part of a glorious plan that is not my own, but the Lord God Almighty’s. And that gives me comfort. I have the strength – I can move on.

 

Goodbye Otis. Rest well my friend. And… Thank you, Lord.

Every hero needs a Sidekick...

            And now I have my own. To some this might be old news... but I've been meaning to post about it for a while now. I happen to be the proud owner of an automobile, now. She's a 1996 Suzuki Sidekick of a silver shade.

 

             She has some funny quirks that I'm getting used to, but for the most part she's a lot of fun to drive. She seems to favor the higher gears, and thus is quite the speedy little car.

 

            She has plenty of space in the boot, only seats four, has a manual; five-speed transmission, and is Four-Wheel-Drive capable. She's a pretty basic car, but I love her. I'm already certain that we'll enjoy many an adventure together.

Summer Camp 2012

What’s summer without a concert out in the sun? Well – after experiencing 107.7 The End’s ‘Summer Camp’, I don’t think I’ll let another summer go by without attending at least one outdoor concert. It wasn’t my first concert, but it was the first I’d experienced in a long time, and it was a whole lot of fun.

Matt, Jesse, and I...

                Personally I’ve never been much of a ‘Summer Camp’ enthusiast. I love camping… but the whole ‘Summer Camp’ idea just doesn’t jive with me. Now, that doesn’t mean I won’t go to a concert that happens to be called ‘Summer Camp’ (Even though it is kind of an odd name…) and I am certainly glad that I did! One of my besties and I decided that we needed to be experiencing more live music. We both love listening to lots of different tunes, and recommending different groups and songs which are our favorites, but we hadn’t ever gone to any concerts together. Neither of us had gone to a concert in a while, so we looked around at what was local and affordable and decided ‘Summer Camp’ was our most feasible option. And since Broskie is beloved by the both of us as well, and we wanted him to come too, we split the cost of his ticket for him, which was a very kind deed if I do say so my own self.

                We bought the tickets in advance, made the plans, packed a lovely lunch, and then on the day of the concert; the three of us headed off to the park. It was a beautiful day, with the temperature hovering around the high seventies for the afternoon, and only cooling down later in the evening after sundown. We could not have asked for better concert weather!

                Summer Camp’s lineup was pretty great. The groups playing were Adventure Galley, Husky, Milo Greene, Animal Kingdom, The Features, Morning Parade, Atlas Genius, The Royale Concept, WALK THE MOON, FUN., and Alex Clare. Eleven bands played their hearts out one after the other. The group I originally went for was FUN., but before the concert I had familiarized myself with a bit of WALK THE MOON and Atlas Genius, so I went to listen to them too.



Adventure Galley opened. It was the first time I had ever heard them, so that was a new experience. They were pretty good, too. I liked them quite a bit. They were an American band from Portland, Oregon. Before the concert started, we set up base fairly close to the stage, but further back than those loony folks right up only twenty feet or less from the performers. Needless to say, we eventually wizened up and got closer. Like… much closer.

Next up was a band all the way from Melbourne, Australia called Husky. They were great. Their music was a bit folky, while still holding dearly to a kind of more contemporary sound. The perfect stuff for a Summer concert, really. I’ll be looking more into their music, because I really liked their sound and the tunes they played for us.

Milo Greene played after Husky. They were from Los Angeles, California. They were special, because they didn’t really have a main. Each member, minus the percussionist, took a turn singing the part of the primary vocals, and traded instruments throughout their performance. It was actually really fun! Sadly, because of those lame black-box things you can only see three of the five band members in my picture. They were all very accomplished musicians, though.

             During Milo Greene’s last number, this plane flew by with a Geico flag trailing behind. Clever time to advertise, eh? I thought so. I couldn’t help wondering if he could hear the great music all the way up there in his cockpit. If he did, I’ll bet he was totally rockin’ out!

Then up jumped Animal Kingdom. They came all the way from London, England to play for us. So I thought that was totally awesome. Also – they were the first trio to play that day, so I thought that was pretty sweet too. They had a pretty cool sound, too. Really ‘Brit-Rock’ styled at times, while still somehow hitting those folk-ish notes. It was nice. Do you see that bright, pink, inflatable, water-floating-bed-thing leaning over there next to the Bass player? The Bass player tossed that out into the crowd during their last number. It crowd surfed across the mass of us until some overly-devoted fan snagged it and took off. I had hoped someone would have climbed up onto it and ridden across our raised hands in style, but ‘twas not to be. Still – it was a funny and original touch.

After Animal Kingdom’s performance they mentioned that they’d be back at the T-Shirt stand signing shirts and albums. I liked them a lot, so I jumped up and headed out to the stand, bought an Animal Kingdom shirt, and stood in line to get it signed. The line wasn’t exceptionally long, but the lads of Animal Kingdom were all quite chatty, chill, and easy-going… so the line didn’t move all that quickly. I was in line for a good while. I was in line so long; The Features, a group from Nashville, Tenessee, got up on the stage, played their numbers, and got back down before I even got to the table. The music was loud enough that I was still able to hear, but I was by no means close. When I finally got up to the table, though, all was forgiven. The Animal Kingdom guys were so friendly and cool. Their accents were awesome, and I told them so. They replied by saying that “That’s the easy part for us!”, which I thought was absolutely hilarious. So I broke into an English accent, which impressed them quite a bit. We all had a good laugh and joked a bit, and then I got a picture with them – it was so the best ever. Oh - and they totally signed my shirt! And Matt bought a shirt, too, and had me get it signed for him, which they happily did, so that was great too!


Me with Hamish Crombie, Richard Sauberlich, and Geoff Lea...



The hallowed object, itself!



                I still was a bit disappointed that a sort of ‘missed’ The Features. But, I have been catching up a bit on their music, which I like quite a bit.

                I headed back to the cheering crowd to show off my newly acquired trophy to my companions and tell them about what happened, and arrived just in time to catch Morning Parade’s performance from the back of the crowd. They were pretty cool, too. They came from Essex, England. I hadn’t even heard of them until attending Summer Camp, though, but now I’ll have to keep my eyes peeled for their albums.

Atlas Genius was next, and I had already been familiar with a bit of their music. They were also from Australia, but from Adelaide. I liked them a lot, mostly because all their songs were all really energetic and fun. Just like with Milo Greene, those stupid, black box things were in the way in my pictures, so you can’t see the drummer. Meh. They were still great.

                The Royal Concept was another one of the groups I hadn’t even heard of until attending Summer Camp. They were from Stockholm, Sweden. And like everyone before them, they had a lot of soul. At one point all three of the guys in front were banging it out on keyboards, and the percussionist was using synthesized drums, and it was pretty great. The main was pretty be-bop-itty and he hopped all around the stage, playing guitar, the keyboard, drumming a bit, and singing at the top of his lungs. They used one of those electronic, voice-changer-box-thingies (I honestly don’t know what they’re called…) at one point, which was kind of funny. But yeah – for the most part I liked The Royal Concept.

Before the concert I had discovered WALK THE MOON, from Cincinnati, Ohio, and enjoyed their great beats and boppy tunes quite a bit. They were one of the main groups I went to Summer Camp to see, and I knew I would be in for a great performance. WALK THE MOON was so great! Right before they started someone tossed a bag of face-paint up onto the stage. The main picked it up and looked at it oddly, but then he pulled some light-blue out and put a stripe on his cheek. Then he gestured to the crowd to tell him whether it was cool or not. Of course we all cheered him on, so he not only stuck a stripe on his other cheek, but he stuck some of the stuff on the base-player’s and the guitarist’s faces, too! (I think he gave some to the percussionist, too, but because of those retarded black, box thingies, I’m not totally sure.) It was pretty funny. I was already familiar with most of their music, so I sang and clapped along with the songs they sang. In short, we partied it down pretty hard while WALK THE MOON was up on the stage. It was awesome. Also during their last number, Morning Parade jumped back up on the stage and broke out into song with them. It was absolutely hilarious!

After WALK THE MOON, and a long wait for the stage to be prepared for them, FUN. finally took the stage. They are from New York City and were really the primary reason I went to Summer Camp. I was already quite familiar with their albums and very enthusiastic about seeing them live, so I was pumped for their performance. Let me tell you… FUN. Is great listening, but no recording is half the greatness that hearing them live is. Hearing them live is so… well… FUN!

All six of the musicians are quite accomplished, and being there to hear them live was absolutely great. If anyone hadn’t been dancing, clapping, or singing along with the previous bands, they all joined in for the songs FUN. performed. It was such a ball!

FUN. also had the coolest lighting. The sun had set by the time they took the stage, so it began to get dark as they played, and the back-lights and strobes were all really cool. And then – bam – ticker-tape was getting blasted all over the place. It was so, stinking wicked, dawg!

The only snow I ever want to see in the middle of summer...

When FUN. left the stage we all begged for an encore, but security began blowing their shiny, little whistles, the stage hands came up to clean the stage, and none of the FUN. members reappeared; so we all gave up hope. But then… out of nowhere they all stepped back into place and told us that this was unplanned. The crowd, as could be imagined, went wild. FUN. gave us the best encore we could have asked for. It was so very, very great!

                The last group to take the stage was Alex Clare's. He was also from London. They were alright. But really, all their songs sounded the same, and they were terribly over-shadowed by FUN.’s performance right before them. I had also tired myself out considerably by behaving like a madman during both WALK THE MOON and FUN.’s performances, so I didn’t have a whole lot of energy left in me.

                After Alex Clare was done we re-grouped and headed out the gates. The parking-lot was full of traffic so we sat in the car with my stereo blasting WALK THE MOON, for which we received plenty of thumbs-up and peace signs from those who we waited in traffic with. It was fun. Heck – overall, the whole afternoon and evening was a blast! If I wasn’t before, I am now a big concert enthusiast. Live music trumps anything you might hear through a stereo.

Two shirts and a tote... yummy!