Wanderlust

I have a secret lover

I visit in my dreams

She's everywhere I want to go

And everywhere I've been

Her name is Wanderlust...

Going Back--Vicariously

I have been travelling back to Japan over the last few days, not actually going there, but the second best way--I have been reading a good book.

The Teahouse Fire is about a tea house in Japan in the late 1800's. It is a good book, full of colorful images of life in a tea house during the transition from old feudal Japan to the more modern Meiji era.

Since I am coming to its end, it is only fitting to add to the flavor of the read by going to my favorite Japanese restaurant in Salt Lake City for lunch: Kyoto Japanese Restaurant.

Surrounded on three sides by rice paper topped booth dividers, reading menus adorned with Japanese characters beside their English counterparts, my wife and I sat basking in the atmosphere; remembering our meals in Kyoto, Japan together.

Closing my eyes, I listened to the hushed sound of Japanese voices as the waitresses called out orders to each other. Opening them, I could get a glance at the beautiful painting of a Geisha hanging on the wall in the entrance way behind them. The waitresses scurried behind the counter-top bar similar to the ones I would sit at when I dined alone during my stays there.

Wooden chopsticks, house soy sauce served in miniature clay pots, and my lunch time favorite: Oyako Udon. It was everything I expected it to be.

If I can't be there, I guess taking in a good book and a fabulous lunch will have to do.

Strange Concept Of Travel Photos?

Just a little over a month until we cruise again. For weeks now I have been surfing the Internet cruising sites, and stargazing at the pictures I've taken in our travels -- some hanging on our walls and several on my screensaver. I just love to take photographs when I travel. I can have as many as three cameras on me at any one time.

If you saw the photos I like to take when traveling, you'd probably echo my kid's sentiments: "Why did you take THAT photograph?"

Case in point, the photo in this blog.

If I were to see this beat up old bar in my neighborhood, I'd hardly take the time to reach for my camera and save a digital history of it; but, the sagging roof, faded out colors, and Spanish language signage lured me in.

I can imagine a few locals inside, sitting around in those white plastic chairs from Walmart, and sipping on Sol and Corona beer from icy cold, sweating, long neck bottles. A sassy bar maid, in a colorful dress, makes her way from table to table with trays full of lime stuffed long necks.

I have photos of fish, rotting meat, colorful vegetables...trains, old beat up vehicles, and more old buildings. I like to capture life as it is. I am not as taken by those things built last year just for me, the camera toting, souvenir packing tourist, to plop down a few Pesos to view.

So if you see me in my travels, leaning over, lens inches from a doorknob, just smile and know I am in heaven--figuratively

All Will Be Well

When my good friend Kazumi sent the wife and me new good luck and good health blessings from Japan, for the new year, I knew things would be good this coming year. I feel fortunate to have someone care enough to look out for our welfare.

I worry way too much.

When someone handed me a fortune cookie today, I got the message even stronger: "The coming month shall bring you much happiness."

All will work out. Just send money...

I'm Not A Stalker!

Let's get this straight, right up front... I am not a stalker.

Now that that is out of the way--have you ever looked at someone and wondered what their life was like? I mean, try and imagine what kinds of conversations they have with their partner, what they do in their spare time, and what kind of books they read? Are they creative? Religious? Looney?

What do those news broadcasters I wake up to every morning think about when they have to drag themselves out of bed before all the rest of us and get made up to look their best?

I especially like to watch foreigners. When I traveled to Mexico, or Japan, I loved to watch families, couples, or just individuals in their daily routines. What are they saying to each other? What does the inside of their house look like?

Does that Chinese lady, at the buffet I like to eat lunch at, live the same life as me or does she live a Chinese life here in America?

Now, I don't mean watching their every move and following them around hoping to get a sniff of their clothing! But I often find myself watching people and wondering what their lives are like. Not in a covetous way, just curious.

I love to watch people. How they interact with others, how they carry themselves, and even the clothes they wear. I suppose it comes from my own insecurity. One of my favorite sayings is: "I need a life."

Now I hope you don't get me wrong. As I said, I don't stalk anyone. But if you are sitting in a public place and it feels like someone is watching you...

Exciting News For Me

With holiday shopping and sickness I haven't been doing my daily writing in this blog. Even without things happening, it is hard coming up with ideas to write about, that's for sure. I take my hat off to those who do it on a daily basis no matter what.

Exciting news for me, I will be starting my new job on the 31st. My new job will let me travel, hooray. I miss being able to have a change of scenery every few months and being able to fly.

I have been hitting the books trying to reincarnate the knowledge I once had, and will need again, to do my new job. It is actually a combination of the job I've been doing for most of my career and the job I have been learning for the last year. I will be a training instructor for some very high tech communication equipment.

Lots of learning involved, which I've missed these last few months.

So, I will be travelling again, quite frequently, and will share what I see and think about new places of interest here in the blog.

Hope everyone had a great Christmas. It was nice here. Plenty of snow and lots of love. Being around family was great. Merry Christmas to all.

I Must Be A Fatalist

I must be a fatalist. I'm always assuming, when the game turns against them, my favorite sports team is going to lose. I'm OK while they're winning, or, in baseball, hockey, or football, the game is scoreless. But let them get behind, even for a second, and it is the end of the world. They're automatically going to lose in my mind.

Our local NBA development league team, the Utah Flash, has been going down to the wire almost every game lately. In fact, several of the last games have gone into overtime or double overtime. It is nerve damaging. Why can't they just win in regulation and save me the nail chewing? Tonight's game, another overtime nail biter. Fortunately, for my fragile nerves, they took control for the whole overtime and pulled it out. WIN! But, as regulation ended, I was sure they were going to lose.

The BYU Cougars are my college team. Well, not MY college team, but my COLLEGE team...actually they are a university. BYU played tonight in the Las Vegas Bowl against UCLA. The Flash announcer gave us score updates the entire basketball game. The Cougars led most of the game.

Coincidentally, both games came to an end at almost the same time. With three seconds left in the football game, the Flash announcer informs us that UCLA is down by one with the ball on the BYU 13 yard line... of course, my mantra is: THE COUGARS ARE GOING TO LOSE!

Flash game over. Announcer now silent. Three seconds of full knowledge that the Cougars were going to lose. A long walk out to the car.

We walked out to the car in mourning, when all of a sudden, "THEY BLOCKED THE FIELD GOAL," pierced the frigid night air. "BYU won!" echoed across the parking lot. The wife and I almost sprinted to the car to turn on the radio and confirm the anonymous voice in the night. "He might be pulling one over on his friend," I told her, sure that they had met their demise.

We unlocked the car, flung open the doors, jumped in and turned on the radio. It was true. BYU blocked the field goal and won the game.

I need to mend my ways and remember that it isn't over 'till the fat lady sings...

Procrastination

This morning we woke to a blizzard. Driving visibility was nonexistent. Wax paper replaced the windshield for most of the drive due to road salt and snow flakes blocking the view; all but a small patch along the bottom where the defroster worked overtime to keep it clear.

When a splash of water, from a vehicle passing alongside, attempted to clear the line of sight, the windshield wiper skimmed over it without even touching the windshield. Not only were the wipers warped, but a touch of the washer switch produced nothing but the high pitched noise from the pump; fluid reservoir empty.

An hour and a half of constant tension due to faulty safety equipment (normally a 40-45 minute drive) and I arrived safely at work. To make matters worse, the commute home last night took two hours and fifteen minutes due to a storm just as fierce. So, you might ask, why wasn't I better prepared?

While I was safely at work, a brand new bottle of windshield washer fluid sat in the garage next to where I park the car and brand new windshield wipers lie on the floor in the back seat.

Procrastination...this time it could have been deadly.

I Miss My Friends

I miss my friends. Especially K in AZ and K in Japan.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could have every friend we've ever had, remain in our lives? I don't mean staying home and nobody leaving the 'hood. I mean all those people you meet as you move through life. Those who move into your world, and those whose world you move into. If only we could have lunch with them once a week.

Don't get me wrong, I still maintain contact with distant friends. It's much easier with email, IM, cell phones, and blogs to stay in touch; but it still isn't the same as having them around.

I know. The only thing constant is change. But I still miss them all.

Who Are Your Freeway Buddies?

Have you looked around you, in the morning, on your way to work? Through the darkness, amid the rush of traffic hastily making its way to somewhere; have you taken the time to notice who are your freeway buddies?

It's dark when I finally drag myself out of bed and into the Mercury Sable to make my way to work weekday mornings. It's the best I can do to just keep my eyes open, but this morning, I looked around. I saw darkened faces, illuminated only by light coming from dashboard gauges, or the momentary application of brakes in the vehicle in front of them. Cars, moving in unison--patterns emerging as they merge, and turn, and rush to their destinations. The morning commuters club. Off to work and school.

My mind flashes to a scene from the movie, The Witness, with Harrison Ford and Kelly McGillis. You know the scene: the barn raising. Amish families, all gathering at the farm of the newlyweds, to build a barn in one day. Neighbors, friends, and strangers together, all moving toward the spot where they'll raise a building, tools and supplies in hand. All in common migration toward the barn.

We are like those Amish folks. Neighbors, friends, and strangers together, all moving toward the spot where we'll raise our buildings, tools and supplies in hand...

It Wasn't A Good Day

Still feeling pretty bad, but had to go to work anyway. Tried to avoid getting too close to people to spare them from catching the germs. Instead, they caught my bad attitude.

I hate it. Something important to my life was supposed to happen at work today. So I pulled myself out of bed, drug myself through all the morning rituals, skipped breakfast, and like a true champion showed up at my desk ready to roll.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, and nothing happened. At least, not what I sacrificed a day of rest and recuperation for. The hands of the clock barely moved. Time seemed to stand still.

Due to the anticipation, I did everything I could to add more stress to my day: confrontations with people over issues I couldn't even clarify, hallway gossip conversations to spread unneeded ill will, and just general overall ugliness.

It wasn't a good day.

Why do we do that to ourselves? Why do we sabotage ourselves when it is just as easy to start the day with a great attitude? OK, tomorrow I will take a good attitude to work with me, no matter what does or doesn't happen during the day.

Sick Day

Of course it would happen. I must have mentioned to someone that I hadn't been sick in a long time; therefore, it happened. I spent last night with a terrible sore throat and sandpaper cough. I sneezed half my head off. I'd post a picture, but it would gross you out.

I've been in bed all day today. The trash cans surrounding me are filled to the brim with wadded up facial tissues. Ka-chooooooo. Ah-chooooooo. A couple of empty boxes, adorned with white and pink flowers on a pale blue background--hummingbirds flittering from flower to flower-- peek out from under all the tissues. Does a decorative box mean that the tissues are better than those in a plain box?

Got to get better for work tomorrow. So, this post is short. Like this cold, I hope.

Tis The Season...

Have You Ever Returned A Gift?

At our team pot luck yesterday, everyone filled out a questionnaire about the people in the room, on the premise that it would stimulate conversation. The questionnaire contained probing questions about Christmas.

One of the questions wanted to know if anyone had returned a Christmas present given to them last year. The question made me think. I have not been guilty of returning a present, but I am guilty of selling a few items later, when I thought I needed the cash more than the gift.

I'd gotten plenty of use from the gift, I just thought I didn't need it anymore (or had some other lame rationalization for getting rid of it). What comes to mind are a portable typewriter and a set of golf clubs. Both gifts came from my parents, on the hope that either would spur me on to a successful career. Well, I'm not Tiger Woods.

My father used to tell me that if I invested my time and energy in the game of golf as a youth, I'd have life "by the tail." Unfortunately, even though my father's advice was always top-notch, I failed to find the action plan to make it happen.

The typewriter was the result of my childhood dream--I always wanted to be a newspaper reporter. It was a beautiful machine. My typewriter was pale blue, with white keys, and a black textured case that protected it as I bounced around with it from place to place. The roller turned smoothly when you spun the dial at the end of the carriage. The carriage return arm made a slight clicking noise when you slammed it home upon completing another line of prose. I loved that typewriter. I never became Ernest Hemingway or Bob Woodward.

When I typed on that typewriter I employed the hunt and peck technique. It didn't bother me. I once watched a prominent newspaper editor, from the town I grew up in, use the same technique to write an editorial for the days deadline. I never became a newspaper reporter, but I did become a writer.

I'm not sure what I wanted that prompted me to sell those items. Today I am writing this on my Compaq laptop and I haven't golfed in years. Times change and the typewriter and golf clubs are but a memory. But oh, what a sweet memory.

FORE!

Where Do You Come Up With Your Best Ideas?

Where do you come up with your best ideas? Writing a blog every day requires a lot of inspiration. I find location is the most important thing for me when I want to generate ideas.

The best location for me is one in motion. I think best in my car, on the freeway, during my daily 45 mile commute (one way). I don't know what it is about being in a moving vehicle that stimulates my thought-provoking brain cells, but it works for me. Does the "free" in freeway stand for free-flowing ideas?

Maybe it's the motion of the vehicle, other vehicles whirring past, or the sound of music flowing out of the car stereo that gets me thinking. Maybe it's the sense of freshness first thing in the morning--a rested mind with plenty of empty space for new thoughts. Maybe it's the fullness of a mind after a long excruciating day amidst the cubicles that continues to generate new ideas.

Whatever it is, it works.

Writers Write

Well, I've put this off all day and I'm running out of day. I made a goal of writing in this blog every day so I guess I'd better get started.

Attempting to put my thoughts down in digital ink day after day is extremely hard for me. It's like trying to do situps. I know how good it is for me, but anticipating the pain involved usually persuades me otherwise.

I know the formula, butt in chair - fingers on keyboard, but that is much more difficult for me to do than it sounds.

After whining to my wife last night about it, she said, "Like I tell my writing students, writers write!" I didn't need that. I wanted sympathy.

I spend all day at work writing for a living and the thought of another session at the keyboard when I get home isn't very inviting. This makes me feel guilty because I think that if I really wanted to write, I'd be driven to it no matter how I feel. I don't just want to write; I want to write fiction.

I've always been a writer. Even though I make my living as a writer, I know that technical writing isn't fiction writing. I'd really like to be a fiction writer. Fiction writers get all the glory. Although, I have made a lot more money in my career than the fiction writers that I have met.

Of course, I've never met Stephen King or Amy Tan.

Hats, Hats, Hats

Some people have hair. Thick, shiny, full-bodied head cover that they can run a comb through.

Some lucky stiffs even get to have beautiful babes run their long, finely-manicured fingers through their hair. But not me. My head is hair-challenged. Little or none of the stuff on top. Not yet a shiny chrome dome. Plenty on the face, just sparse on top.

Now I'm not bitter. It has been coming for a long time. They say you get your hair, or lack thereof, from your maternal grandfather. I should have paid more attention to those old family photos.

I have a solution to the problem. I wear hats. Lots and lots of hats. Baseball hats most of the time.

I have hats from my favorite teams (baseball, basketball, football, and racing), places I've visited, places friends have visited, military services, automotive parts sponsorships, schools I attended, schools I didn't attend, and companies I've worked for...just to name a few.

They inhabit boxes in the garage, fill closet shelves, hang behind closet doors and on the kitchen wall, lying around here and there. I keep spares in the car and at work, just in case.

Some are signed. Some are grease and oil-stained. One even still has the price tag hanging on it. But the most amazing thing of all is that if anyone has noticed, no one has ever said, that I seldom wear the same hat for more than a few days at a time.

So if you ever have to get me a present, but don't have any idea what to buy, I think you'll now have a good idea of what to get me.

I Have Great Neighbors

I have some great neighbors. We don't see each other as much as I'd like to since we are all so busy with modern day life challenges. It isn't like the olden days when you could stroll down the block, see each other on the porch, and call out a greeting. We don't always see each other out and about, but none of us is ever too busy to wave and call out a greeting when we do see each other. Usually from a vehicle cruising down the street.

Since the last big snowstorm, our neighbor two houses down left us all a fun reminder of his presence. He and the kids built a wonderful snow sculpture on the front lawn.

There it sits, large and looming, a two section profile of a man with a big smile and a shiny bald head. It greets all who pass by (at least until the sun terminates its existence).

It's a fun rendition of a traditional snow man, but what makes it so great is that it looks just like him. Well, as close as a snow sculpture can look. I don't feel bad saying so either, because he admitted when I told him that, that upon showing a photo of it to his mom she asked him why he made a snow sculpture of himself. How fun.

Thanks neighbor for the chuckle.

If It's On Amazon I Must Be Famous

This past week, while Googling my name in a lull between projects, I came across something very interesting...something I wrote is being sold on Amazon.com!

It's true, I've always wanted to be a famous writer. If I were a famous writer, I would not have to drag myself out of bed every morning to go to my job. Instead, I would get up in the morning, bright and early, wipe the goop from my eyes, and saunter over to my beautiful cherry-wood roll-top writing desk.

After sharpening a zillion yellow #2 pencils, I would take a deep breath, arrange all of my famous writer writing tools in front of me, and wait for inspiration to take over.

Of course, I'd have to pause in-between interviews with Writer's Digest Magazine and the Nobel Prize Committee before putting my daily quota of words on paper.

Yes, I said pencil and paper. Famous writers write everything by hand and have a really cool assistant enter it all into the computer.

So here I was, Googling my name and discovering that Amazon.com is selling book reviews I wrote for the journal of the Society for Technical Communication (STC) for $5.99 each.

I suppose being the digital age, you can package anything digital and put a price on it. That doesn't mean that anyone will actually put down the greenbacks for the privilege of reading one of my book reviews, but who cares?

I can go to Amazon.com, and there, among names like Stephen King, Ken Follett, and J.K. Rowling find book reviews written by ME.

If it's on Amazon, I must be famous!

Guess What It's Doing Outside!

Books, Books, Books

My life is like an open book...

No, actually I lied. My life is like MANY open books - hardbound, of course, with hand-stitched binding, gold leaf embossed calf leather covers, and gold edged pages.

In my life, books are everywhere. When I wake in the morning and ease myself up onto the edge of the bed, I don't reach for my robe, slippers, or eyeglasses as others may do, I reach out to the bookcase inches from my pillow and pick out one of the many books strewn across the top of it or within the shelves below. Depending on my mood, I might grab one from the stacks scattered across the floor beneath my feet instead.

As I pick it up I gently stroke its cover, fan its pages, and maybe even bring it up to my nose and take a good, long whiff... I know, it's a sickness only book lovers could understand.

This book accompanies me through my morning journey - breakfast, bath, shave, etc. Although, it's probably not the book I will stuff into my backpack with the many others already in there to accompany me on my journey through the work day.

At work, my cubicle contains a bookshelf full of books, a desktop bookshelf with its own collection of books, and yes, books lying around in various places on the desk and office table opposite it - technical books, career-oriented books, self-help books, and a couple of good novels hidden in their midst.

When I get a spare moment, I hide myself inside their world. At the end of the day, I pack up all my stuff, including any books I think I might want to read at home, and tackle the commute. If I could, I'd prop a book on the dashboard and read my way home. But I want to make it home alive.

Some people would say I should listen to books on my way home...get real! How can you FEEL an audio book? A book is something tangible, something you can hold in your hands. Its firm binding and striking cover invite you to open its doors and find out for yourself what awaits inside for you. Like life events, what you find inside a book, can be exciting, dangerous, humorous, informative, or just plain dull. It contains a wonderful world.

Authors become your best friend, as you devour every word coming out of their mind, to paper, to your mind. Reading every word of everything they publish.

When I arrive home in the evening I fit my book worshipping in between dinner hour, sports on TV, or whatever other activity we have planned.

Night time is the reverse ritual of morning. If a day goes by that I cannot get a little reading in before I close my eyes at night, I feel incomplete.

Yes, a book is within arms reach at all times. Waiting for me to open its covers and dive in. So there you have it. I have admitted my sickness. It's books, books, books...

Let Us Remember...

It has been 66 years since the 7 December 1941 Japanese raid on Pearl Harbor. Please take a few moments and remember those who gave their lives in this important event in the history of our country.

Hopefully, someday the unfortunate events of September 11, 2001 will become such a memory and our relationship with our middle eastern brothers and sisters will become as our relationship with the Japanese is today.

God Bless America

Are You Eco-Conscious?

One of my favorite blogs is Work in Progress written by Lisa Takeuchi Cullen, a New York-based staff writer for TIME.

In yesterday’s blog, “At least my marriage is green,” Lisa talks about eco-consciousness, or her version, eco-anxiousness. In it, she introduces her readers to yet another blog, Green as a Thistle written by Canadian journalist Vanessa Farquharson.

Being the blog-stud that I am, I surfed over to Vanessa’s blog. Here is her story, in her own words:

“I decided to take on a bit of a challenge: Spend each day, for an entire calendar year, doing one thing that betters the environment. The idea is that everything I do, I keep doing (so if I switch brands, it's a permanent switch; if I turn down my thermostat, I keep it down), so that by day 365, I'll be living as green a lifestyle as it gets. I hope, in the end, this proves that being an environmentalist doesn't necessarily have to require massive change, compromise or Greenpeace levels of dedication — it can be simple, and inspiring.”

Now there’s a noble challenge. Reading Vanessa’s blog makes me even more aware that I am NOT an eco-conscious person. My wife and I recycle paper and aluminum cans, but other than that we may be guilty of not doing our share of making the planet any “greener.”

The only evidence that we even attempt to save our environment is in my cubicle at work. As you enter my cubicle something odd strikes you right away. The work table opposite my desk looks like it is about to be levitated by an enormous plastic bag bulging with multi-colored aluminum pop cans. A couple more cans and the table legs will lift right off the ground.

Now I’m not talking about one of the little garbage can bags we all use in our kitchen, or a recycled grocery bag. This plastic receptacle of precious recyclable metals is the size of a LARGE bean bag chair!

My dilemma is this, if I attempt to move it, I may incur a hernia or sustain major back injury. Then, if I am actually able to get it out from under the table, imagine the spectacle of me, dragging it down the hall, bouncing it down the stairs, and after getting it the quarter of a mile to my car, trying to stuff it into the back seat. Think about stuffing a gigantic sleeping bag into its stuff sack and you’ll get the picture.

The other option is to chicken out and tell the cleaning lady to haul it away, which will result in it being tossed out with all the other trash, eliminating the whole reason for hanging on to the cans in the first place.

We don’t usually redeem the cans ourselves. We find some youth in the neighborhood who wants to earn a few extra bucks and let them cash them in.

So, if you think about it, we ARE like Vanessa in our own humble way. Our motives actually ARE “green” and not driven by the urge to make a quick buck. Does that make us eco-SEMI-conscious?

Cruise Countdown Continues

I was talking to someone at work today who is going on a cruise the same day we are except she is going to the Western Carribean on a different cruise line.

Like us, they got hit with an extra surcharge for gas. After you pay for a cruise, travel insurance, tips, excursions, and your transportation to get to the cruise an extra surcharge for gas just seems to go overboard.

We both agreed that it might be a while before we go very far from home unless gas prices come down. I wonder how many people feel the same way.

I think that 2008-2009 will be hard on the travel industry as a whole. If we didn't already pay for our cruise and flights we'd be watching the port web cam (see picture, that's the Elation - our ship - on the left) in San Diego instead of being there...

What are you going to do?

Cruise Countdown

It isn't fair to say that I have begun our cruise countdown, because I have been counting down since we stepped off the NCL Star in January... maybe I can say I have begun the final countdown.

In a couple of days it will be less than two months until our next cruise. I am ready. I am more than ready. Already, I am thinking about what pictures I want to take, what I might want to buy in Mexico, and downloading maps of the towns we will visit.

I have gone to the San Diego port web cam every day since we booked the trip and watch as the Elation comes and goes on its journeys. I have seen the ship from the camera eye view, but not the port from the ships eye view.

I need some fresh shrimp, tres leches, and to see the sights and hear the sounds of Todos Santos and La Paz, two of the ports that we've not been to yet.

Can't wait...

Throw It Away And Someone Will Ask For It!

I swear that it happens to me all the time. I was clearing a bunch of old files and books out of the office a couple of weekends ago. As I was shredding papers and putting others into the recycle pile along with the books, I said to my wife, "You watch, in a week someone will ask me for this!"

Sure enough, on Saturday morning, a week later, a friend of mine asked me for something that was in that pile. I had been holding on to it for two years, yet the minute I threw it out, someone wanted it.

It happens to me every time! How am I ever going to convince myself to get rid of all the junk I have been hanging on to for all these years?

Oh Ye of Little Faith

Ever want to just run away from it all? And yet, nothing is really that bad?

In a discussion today with a couple of good friends, I decided that my real problem was that I lack faith. Sometimes, I'll look at challenges and think how difficult they are, then decide in my mind that I just can't do it. I lack the faith in myself and give up before I get started.

Why do we do this?

Snowstorm Service

Woke up this morning to a full blown snowstorm. Since we had previously scheduled a service day for the young men for this morning it worked out well.

All bundled up, the six boys, me, and the other two adult leaders wandered around the neighborhood with snow shovels in hand. We didn't keep count, but counting in my head, relying on my poor memory, we shovelled between 15 and 20 sidewalks and driveways in about an hour and a half. And threw many times that number of snowballs.

The snow fell continuously. It was a good thick snow that accumulated about six inches on the ground. In fact, it was still snowing out there as evening approached.

We weren't the only ones out in the snow. Neighbor families were out playing in the snow. The kids were making snowmen while mom and dad shovelled. It was fun to share a little small talk in the morning.

OK, I have to admit that I didn't shovel any snow. A threat was made on my life, by the wife, prior to the event if I shovelled any snow. But I did share in the hot chocolate and donuts at Krispy Kreme when we were done.

Good job boys! Service makes us stronger, in body and in spirit.