…a deer had been hit…

No letter was sent to the kids last week.  This letter appeared about this time in their mailboxes in December, 2006.

December 18, 2006

‘Cakes/Reid: Well, it happened again. I know most shopping carts look alike but yeesh, for the second time in nearly as many trips, someone took off with my loaded cart at the local Harris Teeter grocery store where I shop.  My back wasn’t turned for a moment to price the yogurt and cheese, and off it goes.  I can’t figure out what someone wants from a cart loaded to the gills with cereal and apples and lettuce, but for crying out loud don’t you recognize that the stuff wasn’t yours?  I had to get another cart and start all over. 

Fasten your seat belts…

December 10, 2012

Ellen/Reid: Fasten your seat belts, your dad is about to go ballistic.

I am disappointed, taken aback and steamed beyond belief about the stinky white gunk this morning floating in the otherwise tranquil little stream behind the house.  You should have a photo of this environmental snafu by now.  How the hell can people dump stuff like this down a storm drain?  It’s the same body of water I watch birds wash themselves in, little fish and tadpoles swim around madly to escape herons and where deer stoop for a drink.   I know it’s only a small stream that emerges from a culvert and that you could jump across without a running start but holy smokes, this is my back yard.  In another 400 yards it empties into McMullen Creek and so whatever damage it may cause here will be multiplied down there.

The white goo that seeped into the stream behind the house. There was no rain to shove it downstream or dilute it; whatever it was stayed this way for most of the day.

It just sickens me that this is how we deem to treat our small chunk of the world.  If Mother Nature has a temper, then it has to be screw ups like this that would set her off.  I sent an email along about the situation with my phone, offered to send an email with a cell phone photo of the white water (and left a voice mail, too), to the pollution control folks at Mecklenburg County but no response so far, which infuriates me.  It is supposed to rain later today, and that will accelerate the problem, literally, by flushing it out of my back yard where it will then become someone else’s problem further down the watershed.  I suppose this is why some of my donations go to the Nature Conservancy, the Sierra Club and the National Wildlife Federation.  Excuse the rant but it drives me nuts.

After you’ve just read the first paragraph, don’t drive me any more nuts by getting me anything for Christmas.  Those iPhone Facetimes with Emma, and your trip to CLT, Reid, are all the gifts I need.  Also, I’ve taken to leaving on the Christmas tree lights at night because when I come downstairs about 5:15 in the morning to make coffee and retrieve the paper, its multi-color glow seems pretty welcoming.  A gift-laden tree it’s not, but that’s okay.  By now you should have received just about everything you’re gonna get.

The newspaper delivery lady got $25 as a holiday gift.  I was up Saturday morning (ugh) about 5:30 and her truck was running in the common area.  I scribbled out the check and carried it outside just as she was getting back into her rig.  It wasn’t much, but enough for her to at least get some thanks.  She delivers the paper like clockwork, rain or shine.  I didn’t say, ‘rain or shine or snow’ because we don’t seem to be on the verge of snow.  Saw that you guys got dumped on in the Twin Cities, Ellen.  Too bad.  I played golf in shirt sleeves yesterday, although don’t read that as trying to rub it in.  Ha.

Reid, you will meet Felicia for the first time when you arrive.  She will meet us at Mac’s for some wings as soon as you step off the curb at the airport.  She won’t go with us to Oak Island, and a word to the wise: we will likely get up pretty early in the morning on Saturday to give ourselves a head start on what should be about a four hour drive.  Those cursed fisher-guides still have not returned my calls.  Hell, we ought to rent our own boat.  If by any chances one of them does call, we may get up really early so we can fish about 11:30 or noon for a half-day.  I’ll be so disappointed if we don’t get out on the water, but at least you can say you’ll have driven through Laurenberg, Monroe, Rockingham and countless other eastern NC bergs.  Trust me, you will see how the other half lives.

Okay.  Outta here.  Work to be done.  Unfortunately, no one to pass the buck to.  Happy holidays!

A Christmas cedar tree…

December 3, 2012

Ellen/Reid: We were all set to put up the tree but we had issues with the lights, too.  As in not having any lights.  Last year I must’ve dumped the whole shebang when a couple of strands went on the blink (or non-blink).  Now we have some new ones but I was too tired last night to muster the energy.  But tonight is the night for tree trimming.  Not much will go beneath it, but at least we will have something relatively festive.  I’ve even though(t) about springing for a natural wreath.  It reminds me of a story years ago when, in the hopes of saving a buck, I drove a beat up old Plymouth Duster into the countryside and cut down a feral cedar tree along a rural road.

Why in the world anyone in their right mind – that is a rhetorical question – would cruise a dusty country road to slice down a dusty cedar as a Christmas tree – is beyond me. It wasn’t back in the early ’70s, but it is now.  The solitary gift under the tree?  That is for Reid when he visits.

But the thing was covered in gray road-side dust, enough so that there was no green showing through.  So, I tossed it in the shower and tried to rinse all the dust off, which only perpetuated the dust problem in my apartment and made a mess of the bathtub.  It took forever to dry and it never did smell like aromatic cedar but instead like country mud.  Once it was up, the scruffy un-shapely thing looked awful, so back into the trunk went the now-clean tree, and it was returned – quickly – to the country side.  What an idiot.  I haven’t thought of that story for a long, long time, and probably for good reason.

But in a momentary surrender to the holiday spirit, I did bake bread last night for the first time in many moons, and it was enjoyable as ever for breakfast toast this morning.  It reminded me how much I’ve missed the hearty loaves we used to make when you were kids although I don’t recall you two eating that much of it.  If there was a smidgen of planning here, some of it would go in the freezer to be retained for French toast.  It may move me to whip up a few loaves of breakfast raisin bread this weekend.  That’s my fav.  Why didn’t we bake any of that at Thanksgiving?  Sheer oversight is all that was.

Reid, I am perturbed at the lack of contact from the fishing outfitters in Oak Island.  You’d think someone would want to book a 3 – 4 hour excursion for a couple of hapless landlubbers willing to pay their handsome fees.  I emailed 3 of captains, thinking the first one that responded would get our business.  Maybe it’s too close to Christmas for them, but at least they could have responded in some way.  I’ll keep trying.  Otherwise, we rent stuff on the pier and try our luck at whatever might bite there.  They always show pictures of ‘catches’ but the fading photos have dates like ‘June 9, 2009.’  But it will keep us occupied for a few hours.

More depressing climate news this morning.  Now, the pollution-caused blanket that traps the earth’s heat grew at 3% last year, meaning scientists are underestimating how high – or fast – temperatures will accelerate.  We seem to be killing ourselves but mankind is wholly unwilling to do anything about it.  Such a great gift we’ve been given and we know nothing better than to ruin it.  Don’t get me started on the ‘fiscal cliff.’  The boys and girls in Washington had better learn to play together or they will send us in a long, downward spiral, all for party’s sake.  Its mind blowing to think compromise is a dirty term.  Both sides get the blame although I think things tilt the wrong way a little bit more on the GOP side.  Obama has to get off the fence, too.

Most of my Christmas shopping is done, although there is still time to complete your wish lists.  I need to at least pony up for another item or two for each of you, so move off the snide.  Reid, I may unilaterally get you something else in time for your arrival, and Ellen, what is in that box under your tree won’t be enough.  You gotta help me here.  Throw your dad a bone, okay?

Holiday decorations in August…

November 13, 2012

Ellen/Reid: This time next week we will all be gathered under one roof, and I will be that much further away from the ice cream aisle at the local market.  Curses to ice cream.  Trying to kick the vile habit but not doing very well.  My waistline is the worse for it.

But, I cannot wait to board the plan and land in the Twin Cities.  Reid, you and I will do virtually all the cooking, and Ellen, consider this not as acknowledgment of your request for me to be a stay-at-home gramps to sit up with Emma on Black Friday.  It will be a race to see who goes to sleep first, her or me.  The odds are that gramps will be the first to wilt by nodding off.  Emma is too young to say ‘stay with me, gramps’ but we will have a good time.  Baby sitting will be a first for me.  Can’t wait although the diaper thing makes me shudder.  You’ll have to leave good instructions or a pictorial revue of how to do it.

The seasonal thing is already out of hand.  How is it that Santa sets up shop in the mall the first week of November?  Whatever happened to waiting for a few days after Thanksgiving?  If merchants have their way and at this rate, they would begin to put out holiday decorations in August.  That would be one way to gauge that gifts have outpaced the truer meanings of Christmas.  Nordstrom’s is putting out a welcome message that they will not join the commercial crowd and will instead not be adorning the store until after T-Day.  That’s where we should all do our shopping although the store here might be a budget-buster for me.  Speaking of that, you would make things a hell of a lot easier for me if you assembled your wish lists in priority order.  Also, I have no earthly idea what to give Emma other than a kiss on the forehead.  Totally clueless about what babies need or want.  Maybe that is a good thing.  As for me, the list is similar to last year: nothing.  There is nothing I need or want other than to curb my ice cream habit.

This weekend we head to Hilton Head for a couple of days.  The weather will be similar to what we had in Myrtle Beach when Sandy blew through: cool and rainy.  Our cool, however, is not as cold as your cool.  A light fleece and a rain jacket will all that is needed.  It might cause a zip line adventure for Felicia and her daughter to be curtailed.  My plan was to hit the golf course while they slid down the wire.  We also hope to kayak the backwaters which would be an interesting bit of the outdoors that I have never done.  But mostly it will be walking on the beach and finding a decent place to eat.

My Caldwell newsletter is nearly in the can.  By my count, this is about 48 straight months of a church newsletter.  This better buy me some clout when the time comes although I continue to burn the edges, if you know what I mean.

A mouse has taken up residence in the garage.  When I pull in, he is usually illuminated in the headlamp of the car.  This means war.  With peanut butter as bait, there is hope the vile vermin will be exterminated in a few hours, but as of this morning nothing had happened overnight.  Perhaps the rodent prefers smooth over chunky peanut butter.  A web site says when you see one, there are usually others.  But I am in this for the long haul.  Where’s a feral cat when you need one?

Okay, I am set to make pie(s) next weekend, and this time, Ellen, I assure you that sugar will be included in the apple pie.  I will buy all the fixin’s while there.  Rest assured ice cream will not be on the dessert list.  Heaven forbid.

On a need-to-know basis…

The hot-shot diet I pontificated about last week isn’t going so well.  And I made such a big deal of it with Ellen and Reid.

Since then I’ve consumed: two hamburgers, fries, a breakfast sandwich with sausage and bacon, and sausage and pancakes for dinner.  That doesn’t include the wine, gin and tonics, beer, and fish & chips (with mo’ fries) I ate last week on a Florida vacation (all of which was dissected in the letter written and mailed today that will be published next week).  But I promise to do better.  Really.

I think parental diet is on the menu of what kids ought to know about.  They’re on a need-to-know basis and they ought to know.  They already know a lot of personal things anyway (see last week’s post) and that’s okay.  We’re all adults here (as they near their upper 20′s) so very little is off limits.  That’s probably the largest change to the letters over the years; as my two have grown, they get to read things now that were held a bit closer to the vest not so many years ago.

Today’s letter  to the kids (which you will read next week) deals with a trip to Florida where this beach vine inched its way closer to the ocean’s edge.

I told the kids that there is a marginal chance that I might-possibly-maybe-perhaps start to run again.  I need to compensate for a metabolism that has slowed to a snail’s pace while the adding of pounds is occurring with Usain Bolt-like speed.

Here is last week’s letter:

————

October 1, 2012

Ellen/Reid: It’s been more than 10 days since I’ve had any beef, but there hasn’t been any tofu during that span, either.  But one has to start somewhere.  We tried ‘beer can chicken’ on the grill Saturday night – until the grill ran out of gas and we transferred the whole caboodle to the oven.  It was okay but not great although we’re not sure how someone can manage to mess up such a simple meal.  I’ve also started to take the Omega 3 lozenges you recommended Ellen but am still somewhat uncertain what those are supposed to do.  I’d look it up but the new MacAir is in the shop while the files from the decrepit Acer are transferred over to the new machine.  I bought a series of one-on-one lessons at the Mac store and I’ll probably begin to step up to the counter in terms of attendance.  It’s a slick machine but I’m slow on the uptake so the classes will no doubt be helpful.  I’m tired of reveling in my technology stupidity.  Time to enter the new age.

There has been some thought given to resuming a schedule of running on a limited basis.  It’s a weight thing.  I’m not ready to return to the days of what it took to run a 2:24 marathon, but a light jog of a couple of miles a few days a week wouldn’t seem to hurt things.  The only reservation is what even a light dose of pavement pounding might do to the ankles.  Perhaps low impact exercise is the way to go.  At any rate I’ll keep trying to walk it off on the 2.5 mile circuit we take most every weeknight.  Felicia has to slow down to accommodate my lack of speed.

I head to Florida on Thursday to join Bob and the two Daves (Hemminger and Dahlquist).  This is our third such annual adventure, and I suppose we have Jane H. to thank for that.  She keeps pushing us down this path and we are all too eager to follow it.  We will be situated near Tampa but I don’t know the exact location.  I rent the car and the others ride along and tell me where to go.  It will mostly be golf, B.S.ing and a little fishing off the coast followed by more B.S.ing.  The fishing is what I’m really excited about.  The captain of the boat keeps saying what nice fish they’ve been catching but that is code for ‘You should’ve been here last week’ and we all know how most of those turn out.  There doesn’t appear to be any hurricanes in the forecast beyond the ones that have ice in a glass.  Really, we’re pretty much a wine group.  I’ll try to stick to the new diet although there are no guarantees given that surf & turf will likely be on our menu.

Ellen, here are the printed checks from the cleaning service.  I think they are trying to take you to the cleaners, no pun intended.  Their bookkeeping isn’t what it should probably be.  If for some reason we are shown to be wrong – but I don’t think so – then we will make them whole.

Reid, I promise to get your Christmas flight ticket this week.  Thanks for the dates you provided.  Since we won’t get a timeshare, we might drive over to Oak Island and stay at some seedy place on the beach.  But we will still have a good time for a couple of nights.  Oak Island must be about four hours or so.  It’s just this side of Wilmington, which we will probably get over to for one night.

Work is going okay aside from working with the &*%^$#@ attorneys.  They could clog up a culvert with all the legalisms they spew which I have to wade through and translate to useable English.  But monkeys and pigs will fly in formation before lawyers ever write something in plain terms.

It will be great to see you guys at Thanksgiving.  The free range, organic turkey sounds divine, Ellen.  Reid and I will volunteer (won’t we, Reid?) to do most if not all the cooking.  On my oath I will not forget sugar in the pies this year.  Get some of those good green apples and a couple of tins of pumpkin pie filling, and we’ll be in business.

On with life…

A dichotomy was at work within the family in the last week.  It turns out both are celebrations of differing times of life.

My uncle, Henry Andersen, a renown Presbyterian minister and one of those uncles that you could really get to like, passed away on Labor Day.  This coming weekend his children and other relatives, admirers and past congregants gather in Portland, Oregon to celebrate Hank and all that he meant to whole generations of people.

Then there’s Emma.  The celebration around this little wonder started in May and shows no signs of stopping yet.

Emma is ready and rarin’ to go the Minnesota State Fair with mom and dad.

She giggles at peek-a-boo, tries ever so hard to talk, and is a jolt of household energy (even if she insists on playtime during Ellen’s supposed off-hours between midnight and 5 a.m.).

One dedicated, fruitful life of service draws to a close while another enters the fifth month of her new adventure.  Getting on with life, it seems.

———————-

Ellen and Reid probably opened envelopes with this letter over the weekend:

———————-

September 4, 2012

Ellen/Reid: It’s tough deal with my uncle Henry but in other ways a good thing in that whatever suffering he experienced was over.  He was just a plain and simple good guy.  Lived his life as he preached it.  You would suppose that might make things easier for his family but it never is.  He was always fair and decent and we always seemed to get along pretty well.  It is amazing how fast things can turn; healthy and vibrant one moment, then the precipitous fall.  But Tom said things were peaceful at the end.  Henry had been under hospice care for only four days, and in some ways that is a blessing.  Even in his state, Henry was insistent on coming down to see both your grandparents in their failing moments.  Your uncle and I will go to Portland.  I will head out Thursday the 13^th.  Not sure when Ralph will make it.  Probably about that time, too.  Mary was an absolute rock through all of this.  She handled it very gracefully and was a pillar of strength.  I’m glad you both had a chance to experience Henry in the last couple of years.

The Democratic convention is in town.  As much as I’d like to get downtown (or Uptown as the locals call it) for some of the action I will more than likely stay at home and watch on TV and read the paper.  That’s a little too much activity for this guy not to mention all the security.  We walked the golf course yesterday and saw the big military grade helicopters doing their thing very close to the course.  Some sort of dress rehearsal.  I like that the convention is here; good for the city and state although the GOP’s self-described “attack” troops are in town, too.  It’s a good thing they don’t call them “Truth Squads” since that would be stretching it a bit.

Reid, I’d go with your mom’s Calphalon.  That is pretty good cookware and will more than get you and Liz by in your squeezed little space.  You have to be able to cook and every meal in will save you money and increase your together time by that much more.  Food prep is a fairly social time and there’s nothing wrong with that.  We rode to breakfast yesterday morning to a little dive across the border in South Carolina, and there was a table of adults and kids a few feet away.  Three of the adults and two of the kids were on their mobile devices.  It’s whack if you ask me.  The art of conversation takes a nose dive when you see that happening – but Felicia and I both check our ‘smart’ phones when we’re out.

I’m going in tonight to an after-hours orthopedic place to get my right elbow checked out.  It just hasn’t been right since it got smacked in Wyoming and continues to be puffy and very sore.  They may have to drain it.  It’s hard to place my elbow on a table, it is that sore.  I don’t know what the hell happened.  I didn’t realize backpacking was such a contact sport.  We went to a post-Bridger reunion the other night with Tom and Richard and it was great seeing all the photos and reliving the perilous moments (i.e. eating overcooked or distinctly non-flavorful food, blisters and other assorted ow-ies, etc.).

Ellen, I love how Emma is displaying her personality.  She is going to be a handful.  She is working so hard to talk.  Once she finds her vocabulary, her babbling will be non-stop so watch out.  Nothing wrong with that, however.  I’ll have to change my screensaver with one of the new updated shots of her smiling and trying to talk.  Wish I could see the little charmer more often.

Okay, enough already.  Keep the text messages coming, and the photos, too.  Reid, send me some solid dates for Christmas, and I will get your ticket.  Just don’t’ expect it to be First Class.

A lesson in the amateur naturalist world…

A boreal chickadee is a new, but now regular visitor, to the feeder just outside my kitchen window.

Birds have nothing to do with today’s post.

Our feathered friends were not mentioned or alluded to in last week’s letter nor any letter in recent months.  I’d have to search (highly unlikely this morning) to find the last time a cardinal, common flicker or rufous-sided towhee or any other species – other than the Thanksgiving turkey – made a cameo appearance on any of the single pages.

Instead, last week’s letter lauds Reid for his pending trip to India and is hopeful for Ellen‘s current trip to Baja, Mexico, and other normalcies.

But I have a relationship of long-standing with birds.  The actual genesis of it rests with Ellen and Reid’s grandfathers, both of whom fed birds.   My dad, for most of the second half of his life, put out a daily spread year-round and enjoyed their visual company.  Heaven forbid a marauding squirrel would raid his feeders.  If dad’s aim was true (which it frequently wasn’t) the tailed robber would feel the sting of his aging BB gun.  Not powerful enough to inflict lasting damage (not what dad intended), but enough to teach a lesson.  Until the next raid.

My father never really shared with my brother or me how he came to adopt these friends or why he so warmed to keeping his feeders stocked.  As with many things you notice with your parents, you pick up the non-verbal lesson here and there.  One of the things my dad evidenced to me – and once I stopped shooting at game birds – is that there is something to tending to birds.  He was a back yard naturalist, he with his garden and his birds.

So now I have picked up on his practice.  And the kids know it.  They read short discussions about birds often enough.  Maybe they’ll pick up the unspoken lesson, too.  As I think about it, dumping a jar of black sunflower seed into the trough is one more lesson in their dad’s amateur naturalist world.  They need to see there is value to strap on a backpack, recycle plastic instead of pitching it, plant a garden and walk the golf course.  Just as their grandfather taught me.

—————–

January 9, 2012

Ellen/Reid: It is highly doubtful, Ellen, that this letter will make it to you before you and Tim depart for Baja.  In some ways it’s too bad that your Minnesota winter hasn’t totally sucked (i.e. unbearable cold and mountains of snow) before you shove off.  That way you could say you’ve left the worst of it behind for at least a few days of warmth and fun.  Still, it will be a good respite to get away and finally use sunscreen with plenty of SPF protection.  Both of you yahoos have nice trips coming up while your poor old man languishes in North Carolina, home to muddy, dormant Bermuda fairways and…  Wait, I can’t think of anything else bad (other than our politics).

Reid, I was wondering about immunizations before you shove off for India.  What’s the scene there?  What do you need to have, and what meds do you need to take with you in the event the local water or some strange food takes you down?  You should call up episodes of ‘Bizarre Foods’ with Andrew Zimmern that might deal with exotic foods in that part of the world.  It could be enlightening.  That would be half the fun to try local delicacies such as bugs and stuff like that as long as it looks cooked.  Your friend over there will be a good guide on that score.  And what’s the tourist dress code?  My guess is jeans and stuff won’t cut it.  Anything that you can rinse-and-wear is probably what will work best and travels well.  Patagonia will have some good nylon stuff that would do just the trick.  Minimal packed goods, one would think.  I just cannot wait to see the photos and hear the stories.  You really ought to try some Tweets or a blog if you can muster that while you’re over there.  Oh, to be a fly on the wall while you’re mashing about in the countryside or milling among the local street vendors.  I’m afraid as close as I’ll ever get to the reality that is India is “Slumdog Millionaire.”  That was a great flick.  Just make sure we know your total itinerary.

It’s cloudy and gray here today, with the threat of showers.  This is my sixth January in these parts, and knock on wood, this is by far the mildest of those six Januarys even though by Midwest standards this part of the Southeast is mild all of the time.  I bought an ice chopper in December just in case we get any of that damned black ice we are so famed for.  I hope to keep the chopper in reserve and unused.  The weather really has been sterling here and for more than just a few weeks, too.  That is probably the kiss of death to say that.  Now watch it really turn nasty.  Blame it on me.

Reid, some tragic news about Chicago with Charlotte ties.  The daughter of my golf buddy here, Tom, was not at home on North Michigan when a fire broke out on the 12^th floor of her building.  The woman directly across the hallway stepped out of her unit to use the elevator, and when the elevator doors open, a blast of 1,500F heat and flame immolated her.  She was the only death from the fire.  That could’ve just as well been Tom’s daughter.  As it was, hook and ladder units had to fight the blaze, and to do so went through her apartment.  All her belongs and possessions were destroyed or damaged too badly to salvage.  As I told Tom, all that other stuff can be replaced, it’s his daughter that cannot.  Tom and his wife are trying to figure out where their daughter will sleep, where she will live, etc.  You ought to look into some cheap renter’s insurance.  It can’t be very much per month, but even with your meager belongings, it would still be a good deal and worth some peace of mind.

I have to slave on my church newsletter the next couple of nights.  12 pages of monthly penance.  Since my actions are still devious, I’ll have to hope the newsletter can atone for my missteps.  Beyond writing you two, it’s about my only creative outlet.  I guess the blog is too.  I’ll send you each a copy once it’s hot off the presses.  At least I’m thinking about atonement although, granted, I’m not very close to it.

What about Reid?

Reid, sans beard. He heads to India next month. The kid is a digital whiz and a free spirit.

If you follow these weekly posts, you’d think it was all about Ellen and her faithful Golden Doodle, Henry.

But Ellen has a brother, too.  What about Reid?

He’s a good kid.  His man-bio reads ad agency up-and-comer in Chicago (to listen to him explain his digital agency world in even simple terms by his standards is to still have this knowledge sail over your head), scruffy beard, nice girlfriend, sneaky good photographer, biker (pedal variety) and an all-around guy with lots of interests.  He’s soon bound for a solo trip to India.  Just because he can.  Just to go.

I don’t hear directly from Reid very much.  He’s not like his sis who routinely sends along photos of Henry lounging around or otherwise looking faithful to she and her hubby Tim.  The temptation is to dismiss Reid’s lack of contact as a guy thing (as others have advised).  People have on occasion asked ‘when do we get to see Reid?’.  He granted me permission to dip into photos on his Facebook page.  Images from Reid’s world may become a regular feature on these pages.  (Note to Reid: post more photos.)

That he contacts his mom or me at his own discretion is hardly worth losing precious sleep over.  It was like this in college, like this after he graduated and first on his own, and like this now.  It was no big deal then and no big deal now.  That’s what makes him so interesting.  He’s not a momma’s or daddy’s boy, which makes his contact with us all that more pleasing.

——————–

January 2, 2012

Ellen/Reid: Since most of my banking is done online, I’ve yet to err by writing ‘2011’ on a check written in the new year, which I have done more than several times over the decades.  Some habits die hard.  My guess on how we all rang in the ‘rousing New Year’ is that yours was a 9 on the scale of 1-to10 Reid, while Ellen and I were more in the 6-ish category.  But that’s just an estimate.  10:45 p.m. came and I was in the sack for the night.   That’s how it goes for older men.  We went out and split a burger and had a few cocktails, than it was home for the bowl games until I persistently nodded off on the couch before ultimately being sternly instructed to go to bed.

Ellen, the CDs you and Tim concocted are unbelievable.  I told Tim to expand my horizons, and that he did.  If “Jolene, Jolene, don’t take my man just because you can” or “lots of good people have had a lot of bad news, how’s about you?” doesn’t rattle your timbers, than nothing will.  You guys went from “Neck Music” to Wilco.  Incredible.  Thanks so much for that.  It makes the trips in the car that much more enjoyable.  And it’s not every day you receive CDs slipped into a sandwich baggie.  That was a hoot and they did survive UPS, but now they are in much more protective wrapping.  You guys can cut CDs for me anytime.  Remember, I have a B-Day coming up.

The weather more than cooperated this past weekend, so I’ve had my fill of golf.  It was a mixed bag of results but it felt good to get out in the pleasant weather.  I like to play with friends down here and we had a great time.  A few birdies now and then with a few mindless doubles tossed in.  My granddaughter will learn the game.  Guaranteed.  That’s what grandpas are for.

Reid, what is this about a ticket already purchased to India?  Good show, old man.  That will be incredibly exciting.  I like that you have a little spirit of adventure about you.  Just be sure to get all your shots and don’t drink the local water.  I would put India on my bucket list.  You’ve been sparse on the details, so be sure to fill your old man in on the schedule and itinerary.  I think it has the makings of an incredible trip and I am so proud of your independence.  Why not go while you have all your faculties and a little cash jingling in your pocket.  Is it correct to assume that you could set up some Skype deal or Twitter account to keep us posted on your location and adventures?  You’d better drag that Nikon along and take plenty of good shots.  Can’t wait to hear about the pre-planning, let along the post-trip display of photos.

The new master bath gets a bit of an upgrade very soon.  Because I was incredibly short sighted (not to mention miserly) I erred mightily in not installing a hand-held shower to go with the big sunflower on the ceiling.  Now, it will cost me a tidy $1,500 extra just to have the hand-held installed.  The plumber has to drill through the travertine and break out some drywall to make the installation.  But it will make it a complete shower.  Reid, I’m almost, but not quite, resembling you in the long shower department.  I love that big sunflower on the ceiling but my water heater is a few gallons shy of a full load, if you know what I mean.  An on-demand water heater might be the next step.

Dave Hemminger is coming back down for golf in mid-February.  Jane gave it to him as a Christmas present.  She’s quite the wife.  Then he heads to Argentina for a few weeks (maybe a month or so) to check on hundreds of acres of cherry trees he’s planted down there.  He is the silent entrepreneur.  They are checking into colleges down here (Elon, etc.) for Will and Ellie and I’ve encourage Butler, too, but it doesn’t appear to be on the top half of the list.

Okay, guys, over and out.  Be good, have a great 2012.  Hope to see you both soon.  Reid, shoot me January dates so I can see you in Chi-town before you board the jet for the Far East.

Best Christmas since BC…

Tim and his bride - and mommy-in-training - Ellen.

As Christmas holidays go, this was the best since BC.  BC as in “Before Charlotte.”

The presents, holiday tree and good food aside, what it did do was remind me that the bests gifts of all are small, are in the developmental stage and come attached with a title: little girl.

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December 19, 2011

Ellen/Reid: Well, by now you’ll have everything you were going to get from me, so I hope that it is satisfactory.  Both of you, and Tim, too, are increasingly hard to buy for so I devolve to the usual outdoor stuff.  Nothing wrong with socks and jackets although one of these years I’ll break the mold and really surprise you.  This just won’t be the year.

It dawned on me over the weekend, as it has many recent weekends, what a year of wild, wild swings of the pendulum that this has been.  We’ve gone from no job to a job, sudden illness and fast surgery to the sadness of Grandma’s situation and ultimately to the joy of your pregnancy, Ellen.  That really tipped the scales upward.  Reid, 2011 seems relatively uneventful for you but that isn’t altogether a bad thing by any means.  All things considered, I’d give 2011 a 7 on the scale of 1 to 10.  What say you guys?  A few weeks or months ago no way I would’ve assigned it that high but we’ve done a pretty fair job persevering and rolling with the punches.  That 2011 score is up a couple of points from 2010, a year of lows.  My attitude is much more positive this year than it was the last couple of years.

Reid, you need to carve out a weekend in January for a visitor or two.  A psychiatrist may question why the heck anyone would want to visit Chicago in January (or February, even) but I’m anxious to see your new home and work digs.  That’s long overdue.  I promise not to overly embarrass you.  I’ve mentally penciled in your visit to CLT for Christmas ’12, so keep that in mind.  It would be wonderful to host you for the holidays.  If that sounds like a plan, I’ll try to book us something closer to the ocean.  Maybe a little fishing would be in order.  The paper keeps running photos of what people catch over toward the seaside, and that seems like a pretty good gig.  If by some slim chance we could land anything worth keeping, perhaps we could overnight to you some of the haul in dry ice.  There are plenty of good fish recipes out there.  Two or three minutes a side in hot butter and herbs sounds pretty good to me.  Of course, that assumes we get a nibble.  Can’t cook ‘em if we don’t catch ‘em.  If nothing else we can drink beer.

So, Ellen, a little girl.  That is just incredible.  You’d better get cracking on that extra bathroom because a baby consumes at least 10 times its body mass in available space.  You wouldn’t think a little one would hog nearly every inch of any given house, but that’s just the fact of parental life.  It sounds as if you’ve gotten off to a really healthy start to your pregnancy.  Good for you.  You exercise and eat right which is a lesson both Reid and I should pay attention to.  (I haven’t had ice cream in four days, so the withdrawal has begun.)  I would like to trundle up to St. Paul before the blessed event if you guys will allow it.  Just to see how “Momma Pommer” is faring.  I’ve told several people here and a couple of them have asked if I’m ready to be a Grandpa (or whatever title you want to assign to me) and I’m not sure what the honest answer is.  I guess I am.  It’s not like your mom or I have besieged you guys with questions about when this would happen, but it is occurring and I’m happy and I’m ready.  This is at the right stage for you both.

To get back to Christmas, the punky little tree is growing on me.  The lights are always on, and even though no packages are below it, it is festive enough in its own way.  I got Felicia a couple of things even more lame than the lame stuff you guys got.  Say hello to everyone in Des Moines.  Staying here is fine with me.  We’ll cook turkey on Christmas day, will probably walk after stuffing ourselves and maybe hit a movie.  We could do worse.  Happy Holidays!

Maybe I should run a contest…

I don’t look at or subscribe to many other blogs.  Because when I do (which is weekly) it just deflates me.

There are some really good, really attractive blogs out there.  Mine isn’t one of them.  Blogs with good photography, great layouts and more readers than I can ever hope to capture.  It is a sign that while I enjoy the creative part, that creative part falls well short.  So does the promotion part.  I just don’t draw much traffic.  The blog folks warn that the entire process “is a slow build.”  At least I’ve got the slow part down pat.

Some of it is no doubt topical.   Maybe there’s A) just not a lot of gizz in letters, B) considerable fault that could be laid at the feet of the creative source, or C) all of the above.  If I had a vote, I’d go with C with a tilt toward B.

The nuances of a high-end blog are all Greek to me.  It’s like it is written in code – hey, it is written in code.  But that’s hardly an excuse.   It’s kind of like an all-around baseball player.  It’s not enough to be good at one thing.  To be recognized, you have to do it all – hit for average and power, drive in tons of RBIs, and play Gold Glove defense.  My blog continues to sit on the bench.

This is my 225th post.  You’d think I would know

I was at the mall last night, and saw the latest effort by Santa to milk every dollar out of the holidays.

better.  Maybe I should run a contest: best ideas to improve this blog.  I already won the other contest in a landslide: lamest blog of 2011.  Perhaps 2012 will be my year.

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December 12, 2011

Ellen/Reid: You guys have absorbed my best shot when it comes to Christmas presents.  It is more proof that gift giving is not necessarily my bag.  Nothing just jumps out in terms of what to send you, so I pick something and send it.  You’ll have to forgive the lack of imagination.   The bottom line is something is better than nothing.  To reiterate, beyond a CD that you can create with a mix of music, there is nothing I need nor want.  By the time you get this, UPS has assured me that your boxes will have been delivered.  If they don’t arrive, holler.

Good for you all to convene in Des Moines.  That should be a lot of fun.  Say hi to the crew, and give Nonnie a peck on the cheek for me.  The hip is going to be problematic for some time to come.  Hopefully she’ll spring back in good form.  I guess if you’re going to be laid up, the colder winter months aren’t a bad time to do it.  Things will be pretty quiet down here.  I can’t even remember going anywhere for Christmas (once at your grandparents?, maybe) since I’ve been down here.  It does no good to dwell on where one wants to be, you just roll with the punches.  Since the weather has a reasonable chance of being good, I might even hit the golf course if the temps are above 50F.  That’s close enough for me.  Scuttlebutt has it that Felicia and I may put a turkey in the oven on Christmas but that’s about the extent of our plans.  She was also on the receiving end of some utterly lame, totally predictable gifts.  Gift-challenged, I guess.  Since your uncle has put a moratorium on a gift exchange between me and him, I’m not getting much gift-purchasing practice.

This year I’ll kind of double dip on the Thanksgiving approach.  Once for the lives of your grandparents, your good tidings Ellen, your liking of Chicago and career, Reid, and of course, the health issues (which have stayed below the surface for the moment).  I’m able to look out my 3^rd floor home office window every day and see the birds and occasional deer, plus the sun and Carolina blue sky.  Ellen, your postcard was just adorable.  You two have a creative side when it comes to that sort of thing.  It proudly sits on the mantel along with all the other cards you’ve sent.  All of those are worth another word of thanks.  The only thing I don’t want to look at is the bathroom scale because there’s nothing to thank it for other than persistent “misreadings.”

I wrote the other day to Norm, my old editor at the A.P. to check in on how he’s doing.  I’d like to grease the skids for a get together up in New York since he was such a good guy to work with.  He’s been away from the A.P. Style Book side of the business for a few years now and I hope he’s holding up well.  He was also the main man on our ill-fated A.P. House of the Week feature in newspapers.  I wish that business had taken off.  Haven’t seen home plans in newspapers for a long time now.  I mention Norm because he gave me a shot and was ultra-good to write for.  For better or worse, and I think it was for the better, he was a big influence on my writing style.  I miss newspaper beat writing.

The Harley got a 45,000 mile checkup the other day plus new front and rear tires.  It’s ready for the road again.  The debate is whether or not to suck it up and trade the old girl on a new black Road King Classic.  Before I picked up the bike at the Statesville Harley dealer, I wondered if riding still had the same appeal.  I found on the 55 mile ride home that it does.  I just like to ride.  It’s still fun and exhilarating as it always has been.  Riding in groups doesn’t do anything for me.  Solo or with Felicia is about all I need.  Maybe if and when I retire I can do a Midwestern tour to see you guys.

Well, I gotta go back to work.  Hopefully the boxes will be at your doorsteps (Reid, I’m glad you liked the coat) in short order.  I’ll try to do a better job on gifts next year.  This year is a wrap.