Last one here...check out the new blog

I would invite anyone who is still checking out this blog to link up to my new blog at www.mckaychronicles.wordpress.com. Same odd sense of humor, new and better format.

Thank you for your support.

An Ode to The Octopus

(sung to the tune of "These Are a Few of My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music)

Thomas the Tank fun and making the dog hurt
Skittles and icing and Trix-flavored yogurt
Building with blocks
and not wearing socks
These are a few of my favorite things

Going outside when the snowfall is sticking
Baseballs and footballs and golfballs and kicking
Wrestling Sis
Tractors like this
These are a few of my favorite things

When it's nap time
though I can't rhyme
When my diaper stinks
I just think of a few of my favorite things
and then I don't smellllllllll, so baaaaaaaad

And now, this important word from our sponsors

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Today's agenda
7:00 Wake up
7:45 Take kids to school
9:00 Take Black Bart to Jeff's Tire & Alignment to have the RR tire fixed and a front-end alignment
10:15 Go to county highway garage to complain about our road--easily, the worst gravel road of all time
10:30 Get hair cut by a talented woman barber who is accompanied by a bunch of giggling, cackling female-types
12:00 Chinese for lunch
1:00 Check in at the office and pick up my computer for the weekend
1:06 Go home--enough work for today already (it's been a busy week--truly)
7:00 Take the Natural to his first middle school dance (he'd rather be shot out of a cannon without a net, but as a student council member he has to go)

Whew, what a day! Hopefully bedtime will come soon thereafter. Drew has a big wrestling invitational at Rensselaer tomorrow. He's 3-1 now after winning by pin again last night at North White. He got beat by a kid from Rensselaer who must have been Harry Potter's little brother...looked just like him. I predict the Natural will smoke that kid tomorrow. He came in for the takedown but forgot to sink his hips, and the kid grabbed him somehow. He escaped once and reversed the hold, but he was too high and the little creep got the best of him. I love wrestling--the whole meet is like the last two minutes of a tie basketball game.

Anybody besides me ever notice that really potent farts not only smell bad, they taste bad too?

Tough decision when there's no choices

The interesting thing about sitting down at the computer to write blogs is that one never knows where it may wind up. Often I am thinking one thing, preparing to go a particular direction, but instead gray matter intervenes and we wind up going elsewhere. In backpacking (much like being an amateur photographer, I am also an amateur outdoorsman) that is called bushwhacking--kind of a fancy term, don't you think? When writing, on the other hand, that's often known as wasting everyone's time. So I will make every effort to keep to the marked trail.

Today's topic, boys and girls, is the upcoming presidential election. Be careful, won't you!? Only fools talk religion and politics! Well, then, I declare myself a fool twice over. Now, just right up front, I must declare myself as a die-hard conservative Republican. I'm dang near a Whig. My belief in government is easily stated--leave me alone, take as little of my money as possible, whack the bad guys, carry a big enough stick that the the creeps stay on their side of the pond, and keep your hands out of those places where they don't belong. For the first time since I've been of voting age, I'm looking at the distinct possibility of not voting for president this go round. Frankly, I'd rather take a cattle prod to the gibblies than pull the arm for either Billary or Osbama. Billary is in favor of national health care, which seems like a pleasant concept on its surface. Stick your head under the water, though, and you come to realize the undertow could sweep you out to sea and drown you. The Canadians are paying $100 billion for national health care, which violates rule #2, and you pretty much just have to hope your needed work will get done unless you have blood spurting. Elective surgeries are seldom elected. The Leaf says No. As far as Osbama, he seems pleasant enough, other than the fact that he was raised in a Muslim school and he's done absolutely nothing that would warrant Presidential consideration. Tonight I listened to about 5 minutes of the Sean Hannity radio program, and as part of his schtick he had gone out and asked Democrat voters to name one thing Osbama has ever accomplished. The vast majority said, "I can't think of any, I just like him." Those who had an answer came up with this distinguished list of accomplishments: he's black, he gives good speeches, and he's a Senator. Hmmm...that doesn't exactly inspire confidence that he can lead this country. I'd say he's fully qualified to be the mayor of something.

So that leaves me to vote for a Republican. Now, just a few weeks ago I was pretty fired up about Mike Huckabee. I mean, here's a guy who truly loves the Lord, bases his every decision on that faith, and is the strongest proponent of a fair tax. The primaries aren't going well for Mike, however, and I expect him to drop out pretty quick rather than continue to throw money out the jump door. Grandpa Ron will probably stay in the race because he's just crazy enough to keep going until someone makes him crawl back under whatever rock used to be his home. He's cute--here is a guy with a passionate following (all three percent of them) who had absolutely no chance of ever getting elected. But he keeps standing up there getting ignored, bellowing out his barbaric yalp. He's like the special needs student who stays up on stage and keeps singing even though the entire class exited stage right, and he keeps right on going until someone mercifully takes him by the hand and drags him away. And so that leaves us with John McCain as likely our only choice. I've been talking about politics, and here comes the part about religion--see, truly a double fool! As a discerning Christian, it is evident to me that John McCain does not believe in God. If you'd like me to cite the evidence I could go down that rabbit trail, but being that I'm the one doing the typing, I'll not do that just now. People keep citing McCain as a war hero, and I am uncomfortable with that tag in his case. He had the misfortune of being shot down early in the Vietnam War, and he had the incredible intestinal fortitude to stay alive as a POW for seven years. Even with that resume, I do not place the hero tag lightly. Just recently I read the book Sole Survivor, written by Marcus Luttrell. Luttrell is a Navy Seal, and he was part of a four-man team who was dropped in the middle of Nowhere, Afghanistan, to keep an eye on one of Osama bin Laden's henchmen. I would highly recommend this book--it gives a great explanation of why Luttrell does not believe we can win this war, and he is a soldier very loyal to the country and the President. His theory has a lot to do with the soldier who was just convicted of murder earlier this week--the guy was a sniper in an exposed position. A friggin' goatherder walked up on him, and the guy was faced with an immediate decision--make the proper military decision and eliminate the unarmed threat and therefore face almost certain criminal charges, or allow him to leave knowing full well he will send the bad guys your way virtually immediately. You can't win a war--because lots of people die in wars, particularly when the enemy looks and dresses exactly like the innocent--if you're afraid to kill people because they might not have an AK-47 or an IED under that robe...or maybe they do, and instead of appearing before a military tribunal, you get to go home in a rubber bodybag. Anyway, back to Luttrell. His team was attacked by an enemy force of over 140 men, heavily armed and well trained, and Luttrell was the only one to make it out alive. And even that was only after a week of incredible hardship and danger. The hero part comes in here--Seal Team 4 was commanded by Lt. Michael Murphy. After being seriously wounded three or four times, being blown down cliff faces three times, and fighting until he was almost completely out of ammunition, Lt. Murphy walked out to a fully exposed spot because he knew that only a cell phone call back to the base would give any of his team a chance to survive. He sat on a rock in the middle of a clearing and completed his call, and while out there he was shot again in the head, severe enough that part of his skull was misplaced and his head took on a misshapen appearance. Even that did not kill him, and he managed to scramble back to his team to continue the fight. Eventually, though, his body did succumb to its injuries, and he gave his life for his country, as did two more men on the team. Luttrell survived largely due to the phone call that Murphy made. Michael Murphy was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor. Folks, that is a hero. I just don't think McCain's accomplishment as a survivor, heinous though it was in the Hanoi Hilton, is in that same vein.

To vote or not to vote. If I vote for someone, I have the right to complain. If I don't, I can blame everyone. What to do, what to do...

I fancy myself an amateur photographer, which is to say I have a camera and don't get paid for my pictures. This picture is from about two weeks ago when we got 4-5" of snow, looking southeast from the back deck of our house. I thought the snow was beautiful sitting on the railing, and I like the symmetry of the spindles. As long as it took me to put the durn thing together, I'm glad I was able to get at least one picture out of it. That, and I hope it keeps children, dogs, and rodents from falling the 10' off our deck to the tundra below.

Brenna had her very first birthday party yesterday, and it was a wild time, let me tell you. I don't know how most people celebrate birthdays, but around here it's like a pack of feral dogs have been let loose to storm the palace. In asking Brenna to recount her favorite activity with her three little friends, she said, "Playing dollhouse." That may not sound exciting to you (or me), but to an almost-six-year-old with new Troy and Gabriella dolls, it was fast times. They had craft time, played games, did a combination slide/limbo with the ballet bar, and ate cake. Six candles on the cake, and how many times do you suppose it took her to blow them out? One? No sir. Two? Uh uh. Three? Not even. It took her four times to blow out six candles. That's either poor aim or a lack of wind. Must be time for her to hit the stepicizer. In the end, a good time was had by all, and the will shortly be back in order. Birthday party #1 is in the book for the Peanut.

We skipped church this morning. Most of us are going to Sunday School here in a few minutes, but didn't make it to the Lord's House for church (at Bethel, we have the main service at 9:15 and follow it up with SS). The Octopus had a fever yesterday, Irksome has been fighting a respitory/sinus thing all week, the Natural was wiped out from too many days in a row of getting up early/working hard at practice and needed to recharge his batteries, and Hot Wife is in charge of rehabbing the Octopus. The Peanut and Pumpkin Spice were ready to roll, but neither of them is allowed to drive yet. I just heard Black Bart say from his driveway spot, "God forbid." The only reason we're going to SS today is because I have a meeting during the SS hour with the school committee. God has put it on my heart to start a school in our church (I'll go more into this on another occasion), and we're meeting today to continue with a compilation of our thoughts and research. In spite of missing church today, I know that God still loves me, and He likes me too. I am convinced that people who say, "I believe in God, but I don't think that I have to go to church to be a Christian," are all wet. The Bible says not to forsake gathering together, and I believe we need other people to keep us accountable. Even so, I hope that missing today doesn't renew my former status as a heathen.

I'm looking a bit Jeremiah Johnson this morning, so I better go scrape some hair off my face. Power to the puffins.

No contest, really

Tonight the boy had his first ever wrestling meet. As it happened, and wasn't it lucky for me, the Dub (aka West Central) was grapplin' against the Valley (aka Kankakee Valley). Now, I could go on and on here, but for the sake of expediency, the picture to the left there is the nice man getting ready to tap out on behalf of the student-athlete from the Valley. This proved to be a recurring theme for the contest. Final tally: the Dub 126, the Valley 48. Boys and girls, that's a butt-kickin'. KV managed eight wins, all by pin, but the Dub won 20 matches by pin and another two by points. 22-8...that's a win in everything but golf. Before I can get too many good pictures of wrestling I'll have to buy a bigger zoom for the cam and figure out how to speed up the shutter. Wrestlers move even faster than basketballers. Drew was really nervous going into the meet, as it was his first time wearing a Speedo in front of a big crowd (a singlet is a little longer than a Speedo, but no less revealing; tough to cover up your bits and pieces, but fortunately for Drew he runs about 3% body fat), but we're all pretty thrilled with the results. I gotta tell ya, it made the Old Man pretty proud when the nice man tapped out the bad guys twice, both times pretty quick-like. The second kid was a little stronger and actually had the Drewster on the mat for a few seconds--literally; he was there for about two seconds, then Drew scored two on a reversal--which made Hot Wife a little anxious. For those of you from the Valley (and I know you're out there), it always feels a bit like David vs. Goliath when the Dub comes up against a school that's about four times as big, and I prefer to root for David. The grappling group from the Dub looks pretty strong this year. There are five or six kids I can think of who I would guess will wind up with a really good record. I can say this authoritatively because I've been a wrestling dad for almost two hours. 2 and 0...far to go.



The picture to the left shows a bit of the personality of Brookie. I hope you can tell from the picture--you may have to click on it and blow it up a bit--that she has glasses now. Yet another thing she was lucky enough to inherit from Pop. She went from being a 10-year-old cutie to looking about four years older overnight. She went for an interesting pair of glasses (Vera Bradley, who apparently is multitalented--lady's bags and glasses), and they definitely fit her personality. Alex actually cleaned her room a few weeks ago to the point that we could make sure she still had carpet and it was still purple, so out of sheer gratitude we allowed her to have two friends over for a bit of play. Her favorite thing to do (and Brenna too) is to dress up, and that they did, pom pom wigs and all. Alex, her two friends, and Brenna each found one of my old jerseys and sallied themselves up considerable. Her friends are identical twins, so putting themselves in costumes didn't help me any with the identification process. I guessed twice and was wrong both times. Call me a simpleton, but I found the girls pretty entertaining.

I read a few of the old blog entries last night, and it left me itching for another trip to the land of moose and lobster. I wonder how much crop insurance I'll have to sell to buy my own tiny island just off the coast of Maine...probably a lot. By the way, it occurred to me to say itching for another trip to the land of moose and crabs, but I didn't think anybody would get it...

If they ever decide the dollar has devalued too much be useful, I hope we switch to using Junior Mints for currency.

I'm only one, but...

I can't speak for anyone else, but I, for one, am certainly enjoying the weather. That is to say, I'm enjoying it right now. About two hours ago, when it was raining, I didn't like that. But I do like the snow. It seems to me that February 6 is a wonderful day for snow, maybe a good nor'easter; heck, I could even go for a little bit of freezing rain once in a while. But flooding...? No, thanks very much, I shall pass on that little bit of fun.

For all those of you out there who prefer to believe the Bible is a fairy tale, and that the parts about the 7 years of tribulation are a bunch of hooey, does all the weird weather make you squirm just a little bit? The rivers around here haven't peaked yet, but predictions are that they will peak two feet above where they were three weeks ago. That would make this our third 100-year flood since 2003! I'm not so great at math--I was originally accepted at Purdue as an engineering major, but changed my major before school even started after seeing the four-year plan of math and science--but even so, I am certain that February 2008 minus January 2008 minus July 2003 does not equal 100 years, and certainly not 300 years as it should. Back to the Purdue thing for just a second; I didn't like the four-year math/science route, so instead I opted for the 6-1/2 year business/construction/education route. Probably not such a great choice, particularly now that I'm in the crop insurance business!


This is a gratuitous picture that has nothing to do with anything, but I thought I'd throw it in there for my own edification. This is a shot of Grandma Martha and Makayla when we all met at the Holidome in Indy back in early August. Even as I write this, it's hard to believe that it's been over two months since Martha died. You know, before she got sick, I knew virtually nothing about Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. I did not know anyone who had the disease. The only thing I knew about it was that it was more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease, and it was ultimately fatal. Now, we've lost Martha, we have heard of five or six other people in Pulaski county with ALS, and I know of another man who was just diagnosed with the disease yesterday, also in Pulaski county. That's a little bizarre. It certainly makes you think it might have some environmental influences or causes. Anyway, not to put a macabre spin on this little posting, but it popped into my head, and since I'm doing the typing, it made it to the Internet for perpituity.

I wonder if green spiders spin stronger webs than black spiders. Green M&Ms have always been my favorite for the same reason they've always been your's. To me the brown ones look too much like rabbit turds. A guy brought some dark chocolate peanut M&Ms to the office today, and I thought, "These are the perfect food." We all know that peanuts provide excellent protein and fiber, and I just read in Reader's Digest that dark chocolate lowers blood pressure and cholesterol. I thought about eating the entire bag, but that seemed somewhat selfish.

Ever wish you could work with clay? Just take a big sloppy hunk of wet clay out of a burlap bag, plop it down on a turntable, stick your hands in there, spin the doohickie with your feet, and begin modeling to your little heart's content...me too. I bet God had a great time when he was creating the world. Kind of like the ultimate modeling clay.

Stuff and nonsense--that's me.

Time for the old man to brag a little

They say not to pat your own back, because you might break your arm in the process. So I won't. Except to say that I must have some darn fine genes. Pay attention...that's genes, not jeans, for you folks who aren't so good with the vocabulary.

Drew's basketball team is 1-8, which obviously isn't so good. Of course, that is one more win that I ever managed as a head football coach, much to my consternation. For you jeans people, that means I didn't much care for it. Now, 1-8 stinketh, but this much is true: Drew is the man. He scored 14 in a losing effort to Pioneer on Tuesday night. They got beat by 3, and Pioneer is I think undefeated, and I know they won the Midwest Conference tournament. He scored 16 when they got beat by Winamac on Monday night. They have one game left (next Monday at home against South Newton for those of you keeping score), and to this point he is averaging probably 10-12 per game, and there's no question he's the best player on the team. Being that their record is what it is that might not be saying much, but he is routinely guarded by the other team's best player, and WC's coach is finally having Drew defend their best guard. Let it be known that I did beat him in a game of one-on-one last night while wearing cowboy boots. He's twelve now, and the old man can still take him. Woo-hoo!

Maybe I can treat this thing as more of a journal, spend 15-20 minutes putting something up, and post pictures only on occasion. The pictures are really a pain with blogspot.

Brenna's PE class at the Dub shifted into swimming mode today...God help us. If Brenna had fun swimming 27 days in a row, she still would throw a fit about swimming that 28th day. She's really hard to reason with--it's a lot like reasoning with a newel post. She invariably has her way of thinking, but it's bankrupt. Brenna is a perfect example of why 5-year-olds aren't allowed to run for President. Kinda like why we must not, must not elect that Hillary.

I've taken up residence at Jim Dobson Ford in Winamac. In the past three weeks, I believe I've made five or six trips there for various reasons. Oil change in Black Bart, service bulletin work in Black Bart (two trips), air won't get warm in Blue Van (two trips)... at least they have popcorn and ESPN. Come to think of it, maybe I do enjoy going there. I've got Steve on a hunt for a silver, half-ton, 4-wheel drive, crew cab, 40-20-40 front seat, Ford truck. If any of you have one of those in your front yard you'd like to sell me, let me know.

Y'all come back now, hear?

Another reason to eat Cheetos and sit on the couch...

A man died today while participating in the Chicago marathon. It was very hot and humid, and according to the report I read online tonight, Chad Schieber's heart stopped and he died right there on the race course. That sucks, and I don't say that lightly.

I figure Mr. Schieber probably fit into one of three categories of runners: first, perhaps he was an extremely fit man who ran marathons on a regular basis. Second, perhaps he was an old jock who ran to try to stay in shape and stave off the ravages of middle age. Third, perhaps he was a man who had gotten way out of shape and decided to set a major goal that would require him to get back in shape and get his life back onto a healthy course. I have a friend like that. The Chief used to run all the time, and he was even training for a marathon about 20 years ago or so until he fell on his head and suffered a major injury, which threw his training right out the window. He decided to get back out on the road and wound up setting a goal to run in the Little Rock marathon, and he did it. The Chief earned the biggest finisher's medal in the world.

Inaway, there is some irony in a guy dying while running a marathon. Unless he was way too lumpy to be running that far when it's 88 degrees (26.2 miles...are you serious?), Chad Schieber is evidence of this fact: when it's your time to go, it's your time. The Bible says that no one can add any length to their life by worrying, and I would submit that the same is true of running, eating brussel sprouts, and driving a Toyota Prius. People like to euphamistically say something like, "The Big Guy upstairs had another plan." Folks, just for the record, let's be clear here. The Big Guy upstairs is God, and what He says goes... there ain't no fountain of youth and there ain't no arguing.

By the way, I'm watching the Beloved as I type this thing, and brother, do they stink. How can it be that you can't find even an average quarterback in twenty years? My nephew JD runs harder than Cedric Benson, my son Drew makes better decisions than Griese/Grossman, and The Octopus (Braden, our 19-month-old) drops fewer passes than Bernard Berrien. Oh well, at least the Cubs got knocked out of the playoffs.

On that note, which of these two scenarios is more desirable? Scenario #1: finish 25 games out of the division lead like the Sox and have plenty of time to lick your wounds in private, or Scenario #2: win the division by virtue of being the least bad team in a dogcrap division like the Cubs, then proceed to the national stage and get beat as fast as possible in humiliating fashion. Cub fans take heart: next year is the 100th anniversary of your last championship, so the odds are getting better and better all the time. I was cracked up hard core by Lou Pinella's post-game conference. His team just picked up the soap and got prison-shower raped by the Diamondbacks, then Old Blou had the gumption to go on the talkbox and say, "We made a lot of progress this year, and next year we'll do better." Hey Lou, seven of the eight teams who made the playoffs in '06 did not make it in '07, and your team isn't the Yankees. Year after year less than half the teams who make the playoffs do not make it back the following year. In fact, each of the last three World Series champs has failed to make the playoffs the following year. But Lou has the gall to say that they're just getting started. The Cubs managed 85 wins this year in a division that is, bar none, the worst in baseball. The Sox only had 13 fewer wins (granted, that's a lot), and they had an unbelievably bad year. Go, Cubs, Go...go away.

For all those of you who are Cubs fans and are itching to post a comment, take heart...next year will be here in five months, and you can begin the process of dying slowly all over again!

Thank you for reading my rant, and enjoy the mushrooms.

Hang on...

I took this picture at Queechee Gorge, Vermont, and it was one of the few pictures out of the hundreds I took that had a specific purpose. Queechee Gorge advertises itself as "the Grand Canyon of the East." I'd say...not quite...but even so, it was beautiful. We took a trail to the bottom of the gorge, and as we walked along the way we came to the spot in the picture. There was a series of small rapids, and the water was battered around as it made its way toward the Atlantic Ocean. As the water cleared the rapids, there were a few small rocks and such in the stream bed that disturbed the surface of the water, causing a few small ripples. After that, though, it was smooth sailing, and you can see in the picture that the water became as smooth as glass.

As soon as I saw it, I tried to get myself in a position to shoot down through the rapids, to enable the viewer to see the rough water, the water beginning to smooth out, and eventually the glassy water all in the same shot. My thinking follows thus, and you all know how profound I can be.

Life happens. Things come up, and often we wish our circumstances were different. It just seems like too much to bear, you know? Here's what I think we learn as we go through life. Hang on...right now you're going through the rapids, but eventually things will smooth out. It may not happen soon, and it may not happen the way you think, but smooth water lies ahead. I think I'll take that picture and have a big poster-type thing made out of it with this caption, "And it came to pass..." Christian comedian Mark Lowry talks about that. That comes from the first verse of Luke 2, which says, "And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered." Good or bad, it came to pass.

Whew, all this profundity is taxing! It's easier for me to be silly.

I'm going to Jacksonville for a few days tomorrow...unfortunately, that's Illinois, not Florida. In our insurance business we work with Diversified Services, and they are based in Jacksonville. I'm going down to meet with a few successful agents to get some ideas, some training, and so forth. My hope is that I can incorporate some of what they do that makes them successful into my business practices, unlike my time at The Valley. Our goal there was to take Best Practices (which is to say those things that are making good schools good) and perform plastic surgery so it worked...or rather didn't work...for our particular situation. The plastic surgery we performed commonly at The Valley was the type of surgery where you take a beautiful model and attempt to tweak her nose, but instead she comes out looking like Jerry Stiller. Oi. Anyway, I'll be gone for a couple of days, so if there are any bad people out there reading this blog, stay away from my house until I get back.

Early archery season starts today, and while I'm not taking time to go out today, I do have a goal for this hunting season. It's tempered a bit from last year's goal, which was to harvest a nice buck. My new goal is this: I'd just like to see a dadgum deer while I'm sitting out there with a bow in my hand! I've only been hunting (or, more accurately, taking my bow and sitting in a tree in the woods looking at the leaves, getting excited if a squirrel walks by) for two years, and thus far I have yet to see anything. That might lead you to think that there aren't any deer where I go, but I say to you that evidence points to the fact that our woods is Grand Central Station for the local whitetail population. Scrapes, prints, bedding areas...it's all there. I just have to be in the right spot at the right time. So, this year, a new goal: I just hope to see something!

My advice: enjoy a corndog today. Dip it in mustard.

Ballet

Since Mike has been busy with Morgan learning how to calibrate yield monitors, laying a hardwood floor in our foyer, attending football games, doing Sunday School lessons, and the list goes on....... I thought I'd put in a little blurb about what Alex and Brenna are now up to. We have entered a new phase in the McKay household entitled "Ballet." This is definitely very different for Mike who enjoys things with "balls." Brenna's dream is to grow up to be a ballerina, which is awfully hard for someone who has never taken a class! Alex comes home from art class many times showing us ballet moves Ms. Lavingette has taught a few of the interested girls if they are done early with their current project. A few weeks ago we saw where a former West Central Elementary teacher who did ballet for many years was having registrations in Winamac for fall classes. We decided to let the girls try it at least this semester. As the teacher is due with her second child the end of November, it is a short series this fall. So far, they are both enjoying it very much and seem to be catching on quickly. Makayla is taking classes with them also. If anyone is interested, their recital will be Saturday, November 17.

Unpost of previous posting which was posted

I had an entry up yesterday, but I decided to take it down. Sorry, loyal readers. I'll work something up tomorrow. West Central plays Winamac tonight and I'm taking Drew and two of his friends to the game, then we're going to Coffee House at the church afterwards. Fun will be had by all.

This is short and worthless, but it's mostly to explain why the blog is gone that some of you may have read yesterday.

Getting Involved

They grow up fast, don't they?

Allow me that cliche', friends. It's in reference to my four little children, who aren't so little any more. As blogged previously, I took Hot Wife and The Octopus to Chicago last Friday night. We had to sort of hustle back Saturday morning because Drew had a team in a 3-on-3 tournament at the Francesville Fall Festival. He had a team last year that wasn't very competitive, so he put a little more thought into assembling this team and had high hopes that this team would do better. I say "sort of hustle" because we left the hotel around 8:00 or so. While that isn't early, it's about 4 hours earlier than we would have preferred.

On a side note that isn't too far off the path here, let me take a minute to say that Drew is a great kid. I'm entitled to brag a little bit here because he's nothing like me at all. He got a few of his interests from me, but beyond that he's pretty much a carbon copy of Valerie, which is a good thing. He was one of two students in his class to get straight A's all the way through elementary school. He was student of the month in every grade, and two teachers told us they saved his award for the month that received special recognition. His teachers routinely asked Drew to befriend new students, as well as students who are sort of difficult--all you teachers out there know the ones I'm talking about. Drew is also one of the top athletes in his grade, at least to this point. He's the point guard on the basketball team, and when they had a 5th grade spring football team, he scored a 75 yard touchdown the first time he touched the ball. He was by far and away the best pitcher in his baseball team this summer as well. He's popular with the ladies, but so far he thinks they all have cooties...which I'm pleased with! I know that will change in time, but we'll ride this for as long as we can. Everything I like to do he enjoys as well, which is a tremendous blessing. We're both into sports, woodworking, kayaking, reading, Purdue football, and White Sox baseball. The only rooting difference we have is that I root for The Beloved Bear, but Drew is a Saints guy because his favorite player is Drew Brees. I can definitely respect that. So all in all, he's a good little dude.

Drew's 3-on-3 team did better than last year's squad, but they came up a little short. It was a double elimination tournament, and they won two games before getting knocked out. I included a few shots of him in action. You will also notice that Drew was dead tired after he finished playing. He fell asleep with Braden in his arms while we were headed home, and he took about a two hour nap as soon as we got there. (By the way, for those of you who are wondering why Braden is not in his car seat, this is my defense: we went to the Fall Festival straight from Chicago, and the back was full of lathe and accessories. We seldom, seldom, seldom take Braden anywhere out of his seat; in this case I took back roads all the way home. Please don't send the Bad Men after me.)

On to Alex' involvement in the Festival. She is in a singing group at school, and they sang Sunday afternoon. If this blog wasn't taking me so long to do (I'm watching the Beloved at the same time I'm writing this) I would include a side note on Alex too. She too is a wonderful little girl, very sweet and very responsible...unless you include keeping her room clean in there. My mom was down over the weekend, and I'm sure she was horrified at the girls' room! There's a shot of Alex singing included here.

I called this entry "Getting Involved" because Drew and Alex are both getting more involved in things all the time. They have to make choices, and we certainly don't allow them to be involved in everything they would like to do, but we're getting to that stage. Drew will be heavily into sports, whereas my guess is that Alex will lean more towards the music and drama-type things. She likes volleyball and basketball, so she may do those things too. Please, God, just keep her away from cheerleading!

Thank you for reading my little blog.

Let's Go Green

I am a big fan of the Chicago White Sox.

Whewww, I said it. It's finally out. And allow me to add that I cannot stand the Chicago Cubs. I would like nothing better than to see them lose 12 straight here...just absolutely go down in flames like the bunch of flamers they are. I hope they lose the NL Central by 10 games. For those of you poor souls out there who say, "I root for both the Cubs and the White Sox," I say phooey on you. Do you root for both Hilary (that's the root word for hilarious) Clinton and Mike Huckabee? Do you root for both Lex Luthor and Superman? Do you root for both God and Satan? Do you root for both Jerry Seinfeld and Newman? C'mon here, make a decision! No fence-sitting for me--I'm a Sox guy.

In 2005 it was fun to be a Sox fan, you know? People were even jumping in the bandwagon, riding the coattails of the real fans just like the White Sox were riding the right arms of Jose Contreras and Jon Garland. This year...not so much. They're about the worst team in baseball. But I'll tell 'ya this, boys and girls--it's still fun to go to the ballpark!

Friday night was Halfway to St. Pattie's Day at the old ballpark. In honor of the day, the boys in black wore their green uniforms...my personal favorites. In case you wonder why in Sam Hill the Sox would wear green uniforms, it is due to the fact that Chicago's history is heavily influenced by the Irish. I know this to be true because my brother is a history teacher, and therefore I'm not allowed to make up historical events or facts. I've been wearing a green Sox hat with the shamrock for several years. In fact, my old hat went stinky so I bought a new one at the ballpark back on my birthday. People often see it and attempt to mock me. "The White Sox don't wear green, you idiot." Sometimes I let them know otherwise, but often I just let it go. Best not to have a battle of wits with the unarmed.

Valerie and I left home mid-morning on Friday to head up Chicago way. On the way we made a few stops (she bought Drew and I a mini-lathe so we can begin making all of our Christmas presents!...at least that's the plan), but we made it to the Big Windy mid-afternoon. We stayed at the Palmer House Hilton...that's right, kids...22nd floor...executive level. You know how sometimes you can't really afford to do something, but you just really want to do it anyway? This is an example of that. Never having stayed anywhere near downtown before--in fact, I rarely get anywhere north of Comiskey Park or west of the Dan Ryan--it was fun to enjoy a little swank.

We took the Red Line to the ballpark ($2 each--that's the way to go) and I gotta tell you, there is just nothing in life quite like walking through the tunnel and emerging into the bright sunshine of a beautiful baseball stadium. Stories don't always have a happy ending, but this one does! The Sox won 5-3 behind the solid pitching of Jose Contreras and the Big Wide Guy (remember Ozzie calling for Jenks at the end of WS '05 Game 1?). Big Jim Thome is sitting on 499 home runs and we were hoping to see #500, but alas, he struck out twice instead. So it wasn't a perfect evening, but it was close. The brats were hot and the sauercraut was tasty.

My mom came from Columbus to watch the three older ones, which was much appreciated. Dad is healing nicely from his hip replacement so she was able to get away for a night. She took the kiddies to Pizza Hut and they had a good time.

I hope you enjoyed this installment of The McKay Chronicles.

Thank you, Kevin

This post is a tribute to my great and good friend, Uncle KeKe. My faithful readers--and even those who only check this thing once in a blue moon (particularly since I'm only posting about that often any more, although I have taken steps that should correct that issue)--have probably noticed a Kevin that has posted a comment to virtually every entry. This is my most faithful reader, and it was he who encouraged me to think about doing this thing because he wanted to follow along with The Big Trip. This one's for you, big guy.

Uncle KeKe is one of those people you don't meet very often. Not only is he a Christian man in a heathen world, but he's also a genuinely good teacher. In my experience as a Highly Qualified Teacher, I came to believe good people who are also good teachers are a rarity. Oh, there are lots of teachers who say they are good, and there are a few more who probably think they are good, but we're suffering from a shortage of truly good teachers: those faithful few who teach something worth learning, know what they are talking about, and have a real (as opposed to pretending--just saying it, all the while knowing it isn't true) interest in seeing kids succeed, both in their class and in the larger classroom of experience. The technology department at The Valley is chock full of guys who meet those qualifications, but none of them have the connection with kids that Uncle KeKe does. Thank you, Unc! Keep fighting the good fight, and don't forget that it's okay to throw your weight around when change is needed. You're the Golden Child, and they need you there!

Three fotos today (dropped a little Spanish on you there). The first two are the new counter we have in our office here at good old Timm Services/Fulmer Seed and Service. Those pictures find themselves in this post for two reasons: first, because I thought everyone might enjoy seeing where Hot Wife and I work (note the distinct lack of students, administrators, and passing periods); and second, because we bought it from Uncle KeKe and he wants to see what it looks like in the office. It really only sort of works in the office because it's so fancy! But we like it, the guys like it, and it serves its purpose. We needed something that would give a guy a place to stand and write his check (that's important around here...), a place to have some candy in a glass jar, and something that would at the same time allow us to have our stuff handy but not be in the way of the other two things. Thanks, Unc, it works well and the price was right.

The third picture is The Octopus. I heard a little squeal from him today and, upon walking into the meeting room of our office, found him sitting in the Longaberger basket, playing with the kitty, and enjoying a bottle. He wasn't stuggling to get out...he just enjoyed relaxing for a few minutes then want along his merry way! He's a funny little guy.

FYI--Hot Wife and I will be gone tomorrow, so don't expect us to show up at your bar mitzvah. While The Big Trip occurred during our anniversary, there were too many urchins around to really consider it an anniversary trip. So we're going to The Home of The Greatest Team Ever in the morning to spend a night at the Palmer House Hilton (Tower level...oolala), catch a ballgame (Halfway to St. Pattie's Day game!--green uniforms), and tear up the shops. Victoria's Secret, here I come! That gal ain't got many secrets left, ya know what I mean?

Green, huh?

I dang near forgot what this blog looked like. The whole posting every day thing...yeah. Not gonna happen. But I'll do my most bestest (y'all from KV know where that came from...Phearless) to keep this thing current enough that at least a few of you will check back in occasionally!

So I've been about three weeks on the New Job, and I would summarize the difference between what I'm doing now and what I used to do in this manner: "Aaaaaah. That's better." It's a lot like when you put on a pair of new shoes, then go walk 20 miles on a difficult trail. At best, your feet hurt like a mother. At worst, amputation would be a blessing. But then, eventually, at the end of the trail you sit down, unlace the boots, and peel them off your feet. The feeling as your toes uncrimp themselves and you can breath again is one of immediate relief. That's how it is for me, beloved readers. Eleven years at The Valley. Oi. To be fair, it's not all peaches and cream on the new job. My desk is small, and the location chosen for me is in the Crapper Corner. The most astute among you will know that I chose those petty things to indicate that there's pretty much nothing about the New Job I don't like. The biggest differences between what I was doing and what I'm doing now:

1. No more of the foolish, cowardly, blown-about-by-the-slightest-breeze leadership that is dragging KV to the bottom of the cesspool right now

2. Not a single tattooed, pierced, underwear-showing, profanity-spouting, cellphone-using, gangbanger-wannabe around the office

3. While I do my best to put in my office time and work my way through the extensive to-do list I generated for myself as well as the one that Gene put together for me, it is an indescribable blessing to be free from an outwardly-imposed schedule. I took Valerie's van to the shop today in Winamac (Jeff's Tire & Alignment--Jeff does great work; how's that for a shameless plug?) at 9:00 and was able to wait for him to get it done. We spent probably 30 minutes visiting while one of his guys worked on our brakes. I didn't have to take a sick day or a personal day or whatever to do it, either. I LOVE having a free schedule. This is a slow time of the year for us in the crop insurance business, although that will change very soon as more guys start shelling corn.

I had lunch with the guys at KV today, and it was weird to be back in the building. It was almost like the old darkeness settled over me as soon as I walked back in the building. I enjoyed visiting with the guys, the spicy chicken salad sandwiches Tater brought in were great, and I used the Tormek to sharpen all three of my hand planes. But as soon as those things were accomplished, I couldn't wait to get the heck out of Dodge. I pray God's blessings upon Kevin K, Kevin S, Kevin M, Paul, Jeff Me, Jeff Ma, Ron, Ryan, Bill, DJ, and all my other buddies, cause KV is not an easy place to work. It's an even harder place to work for teachers who actually have a desire to see their kids grow and learn--which many teachers do not, but all of those guys do. There are lots and lots of "teachers" who are doing nothing more than putting in their time. Worksheet, worksheet, worksheet. A shame for the kids.

I threw in a few gratituous pictures of the family at the Holidome in Indy. We went there straight from Maine and had a great time. Erika and her family, Jess and her family, and G&M joined Clan Mackay for a rollicking good time.

The first picture is Martha with Makayla (Jess & Morgan's oldest; Makayla and Brenna are absolute best of buds), and the second picture is Brenna going down a slide.

More later, muchachos.

Firsts Day @ Clan Mackay

1 down, 179 to go. School has begun; great joy for some, much consternation for others.

Three big firsts in the McKay household today. 1st first: today was Brenna's first day of kindergarten. She is in Mrs. Linback's class at West Central. As a recently retired teacher, I was available to drop off the yahoos along with Hot Wife this morning. It was cute watching Alex and Brenna walking into school holding hands. Alex was walking pretty fast so Brenna's little legs were really pumping to keep up. She had a good first day and Mrs. Linback is a wonderful teacher. I expect Brenna will be running the class shortly.

2nd first: today was Drew's first day in middle school. He has a locker, walks from class to class during passing periods, and he gets more food than students in the elementary building. He also has the potential of being tardy to class, so we dropped him off first. West Central MS is a Block 4 school, so Drew will have 90 minute classes, then a whole new set of classes after Christmas.

3rd first: today was Mike's unofficial first day working full-time at Timm Services. Of course, mid-August isn't an especially busy time in crop insurance, so my time today and for the forseeable future will be spent getting things figured out, working on various things (particularly computer projects) that have been awaiting my arrival, and beginning a few new projects to build the business. I arrived around 8:30, headed for the John Deere dealership around 9:30 to pick up our new mapping software (we write crop insurance for John Deere Risk Protection), and made it back to the office just in time for a lunch meeting with our church's assistant pastor. We ate lunch at West Central, which Scott does occassionally to visit with our kids who attend there as well as meeting new students. Ironic, huh? I get out of education largely due to the unhealthy/tasteless food, and on my very first day of freedom from KV I eat school lunch!

This is my first blog entry in, what, a week or so? When we got home from The Big Trip I was unable to get on the internet. Couldn't figure out why for three days. Restarted the computer a few times, reset the wireless router a few times, ran the troubleshooter...all that jazz. There is a nice little computer store in Winamac, so I popped in there on my way through town to see if they could figure it out. Turns out there's a little sliding switch on the front of the laptop that, if slid to the left making the light turn orange, prevents the computer from detecting network connections. Go figure. That which eluded me for three days took the nice man, who didn't even charge me anything, about 30 seconds. For those of you at The Valley, it was a lot like going in to ask Ron Hine a question. You walk in completely befuddled, and walk out feeling like Elmer Fudd. I guess there are things at which I enjoy a certain level of expertise, but finding switches on the front of computers is evidently not on that list. Bet that won't ever happen again.

It's fun to work in the office with HW. I can't see how she ever gets anything done, what with The Octopus running around pulling everything down. He's a trip.

Goodbye from Medaryville.

Quick note about comments

As I posted the last blog just a few minutes ago, I scrolled down through a few of the old ones, looking to see if any new comments have been posted.

A brief note about comments--please leave them. I cannot tell you how gratifying it is to see that people are looking at this thing. I think I'm beginning to leave more of a diary, almost for myself, which is a change. My intention is to continue this blog as a record of what goes on in our family, which may not be of interest to many of you.

I set the format of this thing so anyone can leave a comment with no need to do anything special. Honestly, seriously, if you leave only, "Joe from Wichita--read the blog" that's enough. It's not as though I'm getting anything for it, I just like to see who has checked it out. My sister-in-law told me tonight, "I've read it every day, but I've only left a few comments because I didn't know what to say." There are a few blogs I check on occasion, and this I pledge: If I read it, I'm gonna leave something just so the poor fellow knows he's not the only one on this road!

Dude, I got the DT's

Today is the day after Christmas, times about twenty.

You know how you so look forward to Christmas day, to the giving of favorite gifts about which you've been so excited? We spend months looking for things our children and loved ones will enjoy, we wrap them lovingly and place them under the tree (which we also spent several hours picking out and decorating with specially purchased ornaments and lights). The anticipation of the day is almost overwhelming, particularly for the young ones.

And then the big day arrives. We read the Christmas story and acknowledge in our meager way that the day is about the celebration of when Jesus Christ came to earth--Emmanuel, God With Us. While it is unlikely He arrived on December 25, that Jesus of Nazareth was a real person from a real town is a historic fact. What folks believe about Him from there is a matter of faith, or the lack thereof. And as the sticker in my old classroom at KVHS says, "If you believe there is no God, you better be right!"

Finally, the time for gifts. They are excited, and then quickly ready for the next. Excited about that one, then ready for the next. In an hour or maybe two if you really stretch it, the gift-giving is over. All the months of planning, shopping, anticipation...over in a flash.

And that is exactly how our trip was. I began jotting down ideas and working out two or three possible trips in August and September, made the decision, wrote the grant in September, turned it in, and waited four months to find out if I was among the chosen. The letter arrived in the mail--You got it!--then the planning really began. Choosing the route, booking hotels, looking for fun things to do along the way, and so forth consumed most of four months. It seemed like forever before July 22 would finally arrive. Then, finally, we were on the way! Buffalo, Boston, Gloucester, Deer Isle/Stonington, the WoodenBoat School, Waterville, Quechee, back to Ohio, and now..........fffffffffffffffffffffftttttttttttttttttttttt. Eighteen days of great fun, over in what I would call even less than a flash. A fleeting moment.

That is the sound of my sail going slack as the wind has left it. The Big Trip is over. Kaput. Rats.

We're not home yet. We came first to Indy to spend three days with Hot Wife's family. I'm sure we'll do a few fun things here, and the Indians will be in town on Saturday night, but...well, it's not the same. That thing by which I will soon make my living--corn and soybeans--is in many ways the bane of my existence. Ironic, ain't it? The fact that our slice of the United States has such rich soil, and is so flat and ideally suited for farming, also means we have very little in the way of interesting geography.

I have a confession to make: I live in Medaryville, Indiana. And I don't like it. We have been blessed to traverse much of our great land lately. In the past few years I've been to Tennessee multiple times, backpacking in eastern Kentucky, all the way to the Atlantic Ocean in way south South Carolina, to the Ozarks region of Missouri, and now all the way to mid-coast Maine, missing nothing along the way. I believe I have visited 38 states in my 35 years.

This is what I have learned: My soul is drawn to moving waters. My bucolic state of depression rises and falls in direct proportion to my proximity to moving waters. Everywhere we go, the terrain and other natural geographic features are interesting and beautiful. In and of themselves they encourage vigorous physical activity. I cannot begin to tell you the percentage of cars I saw with Maine license plates that had bicycle and/or kayak racks on top, usually loaded. Today we drove four hours from Mansfield, Ohio, here to Indianapolis, and I saw one. One friggin car with a kayak on top. No wonder the state of Indiana has one of the highest obesity rates in the nation, myself counted among that number, much to my chagrin.

Drew and I both have kayaks now, and rest assured that we will take every opportunity to throw them in a river or maybe one of the tiny local lakes, and I hope to throw the boat in Lake Michigan yet this fall. There are things we can do, and the more tools I have to go do something, the more reasons to believe I will. By the way, the fellow in the picture with Drew and I is Nick Schade, the designer of the kayak and our course instructor. For those of you who are curious, the kayak rode atop the van beautifully.

But alas, for now, it's back to the corn.

Today

Yesterday we played around in Quechee, today we visited Woodstock. Woodstock has such things as shops that specialize in Vermont wool, bookstores, covered bridges, and somewhere in the area is the Appalachian Trail. We drove twice through the area where the AT supposedly crosses the highway, but I saw neither hide nor hair of it. I thought sure there would be through-hikers crossing the road right when we got there; no such luck.

Braden did not get a nap all day yesterday, and he slept for maybe 30 minutes today, but he's going strong. Everyone else is well also. We had lunch today at a little bistro in Woodstock, and supper at Panera Bread across the border in Lebanon, New Hampshire.

For those of you who may be wondering, Dad came through his surgery well. He had a complete hip replacement on Monday morning, and was up and around, albeit gingerly, that afternoon. He started rehab today, and Mom's message on my phone was that the rehab technician was amazed at how willing Dad was to get up and around, and how strong he seemed to be already. It would be like my Dad to have hip replacement and go walk a trail a week later. When he had quintiple bypass surgery 12 years ago the doctor asked him as part of his pre-surgical consultation, "If I asked you to walk around the block right now, could you do it?" Dad's honest reply was, "I played three hours of two-hand touch football yesterday!" He's a tough bird.

That's enough for today. We're leaving very early tomorrow morning for parts unknown and I think my mom is the only one still looking anyway. Tomorrow morning we head toward home. We're heading for Indy to spend three days with Valerie's family at the Holidome before we point Blue Van toward Medaryville. By the way, she's embarrassed about me referring to her as "Hot Wife." I'll just have to apologize. Once a nickname is earned, it pretty well sticks. While in Indy I'll run down and visit the folks either at the hospital or back home in Columbus depending on how many days Dad spends in the hospital. Our plan tomorrow is to drive as far west as we can possibly stand, then get a hotel room wherever we end up. I'd like to make it as far as Cleveland, which is 10 hours from here, but would still leave us with 4 hours on Thursday. When you come this far east, ya gotta get home somehow!

Vermont...home to the world

As they say, that one is for free. The picture of Brenna and Braden playing has nothing to do with today's entry. In fact, it was taken on August 1st while Valerie was writing her entry. Alex took the picture, and she did a good job of capturing the essence of both B's. Brenna is in constant motion; typically there is a little theater in whatever she's doing. Braden just charges ahead, regardless of what is going on around him. We've laughed lately because he's usually the first one on and off the elevator in all these hotels we've been enjoying.

I finally had the opportunity to eat a lobster the other day. The flavor was okay, but it was just way too crunchy for me. Plus you have those beady black eyes openly staring at you. They say that lobsters scream when you drop them in the boiling water, and I can confirm that. Mine was a little undercooked, and it was still sort of whimpering when they brought it out. I had them open it up and put bread crumbs on it so the meat was easier to find because, being a lobster virgin, I just knew I would do something stupid that would cause diners at neighboring tables believe I was from Away. Something other than the fact that I say my r's, I mean. Not knowing the particulars of eating hard shell lobster, I ate the whole thing. There is the constant gnawing fear of leaving something on the plate that would cause a local to guffaw. On Friday we had soft shell lobster at the WoodenBoat School bake. Anybody out there know the difference? A lobster, much like their evil cousin the snake, sheds its shell on occasion. A lobster that has been in its shell for a good long while is a hard shell crab, called that because the shell is hard. After the lobster sheds that shell, it grows a new, larger shell, much like a Medaryvillain (note the spelling towards the end of that word--deliberate) moving from a trailer into a double wide...nice digs. The lobster has not yet grown to fill up that shell yet, thus when you boil it, those empty spaces fill up with water. Ripping off the claw of a soft shell crab results in a spray of water and steam not unlike the scalding coffee that fell into the lap of the 90-year-old woman who subsequently sued McDonalds. And won, by the way. Makes you think, doesn't it?

After much deliberation, I chose to title this entry to the McKay Chronicles Vermont...home to the world. Even a perfunctory observation leads to the obvious conclusion that many of the folks who work at the multitude of shops, restaurants, hotels, and gas stations in the area are not native Vermonters. The gal on the phone at EBA's Pizza (Everything But Anchovies) was from Russia. The fellow at the gas station was from Lebanon--the Middle East vintage Lebanon, not the one south of Lafayette nor the one five miles from here in New Hampshire. I can't think of others right off, but I'm telling you, it's like spending a few nights at Ellis Island. Being Bar-John, or MacJohn depending on your culture of origin, one thing I inherited from Pop is the ability to strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere. One memory I have from our family excursions while growing up is Dad pumping gas and talking with whomever happened to pull up across the pump. He can talk to people regardless of circumstances, and usually does. Dad had his right hip replaced this morning, and I would be shocked if he was doing anything other than asking the medicine doctor (anybody know how to spell anestesiologist?) about the hardes time he ever had putting a person under as he was himself headed for a deep sleep. I like to do the same. He came out of surgery in a few hours and is doing well, by the way. Thanks for asking, which I know you were doing!

Tonight Brenna jumped off the side of the pool unassisted for the first time, so I chose to reward her by taking her to the local gas station and allow her to pick out some candy. She took about 20 minutes, perusing the myriad choices upon which I placed no restrictions, finally landing upon a large bag of Mixed Berry Skittles. When we paid, I noted with interest that the station attendant was likely from Away. In reply to my query, he told me that he was from Lebanon. He had been a farmer there, with a farm half the size of Vermont in his words, but he said the ground was no good anymore because of the war. I asked the girl on the phone at EBA's how she managed to get to a little place like White River Junction from a big place like Russia, and she said she didn't really know. She came to Ohio for some forgotten reason and just found herself drifting east. I thought perhaps she was a student at Dartmouth which is about 15 minutes distant, but that was not the case. She was just here to work. All the way from the Motherland, answering the phone at a pizza place. I wonder if that was what she had in mind...

For those of you following along on our itinerary, we had so much fun today that we decided to forego New York City and stay a third night here in Vermont. That was a compromise between Hot Wife and Irksome Husband. NYC was completely my idea--I just couldn't see being this close and not seeing the greatest city in the world. It would likely have been mostly traffic, and it was way south of here but required the same amount of driving west, so I was willing to stay here another night rather than stay in Yankeeville.

By the way, it has come to my attention that some among you have noted that the tone of my writing seemed to change around August 1st, which happens to coincide with our 15th anniversary. A few readers have made the wry observation that I suddenly began referring to my better half as Hot Wife. Why, pray tell? What could have prompted the change? Well, dear friend, here is your answer: I shall leave that to your imagination. There are those among us who are not of age. Suffice it to say she now has her nickname for the trip.

Today we enjoyed Quechee, home to Quechee Gorge, known locally as "the Grand Canyon of the East." Having been to the Grand Canyon, which is something like 1000 feet deep and several hundred miles long, I must report in all candor that Quechee Gorge leaves something to be desired in comparison with The Canyon, and I wonder if perhaps it wouldn't be wiser for the comparison to be with something more along the lines of the gorge at Wildcat Creek out east of Brookston. Quechee Gorge is about 160 feet deep. If they stacked about 10 Quechees atop one another, and quintupled the flow of water, then you'd have something. But it was neat, and the area is certainly beautiful.

We rode a scale train at a little shop in Quechee, which is the picture of Pumpkin Spice and Hot Wife. Braden had noted the train with interest, and being the astute observer that I am as well as the father of four children, I believed he would experience the ride with joy, an event that might ultimately prove to alter the course of his life, that perhaps he might choose to undertake working the rails as a career choice. While he didn't dislike the train, the closest description I can provide is that he seemed either puzzled or indifferent about the whole deal. The expression on his face in the picture was there throughout the 10 minute trip, which took us round the shopping area twice. If only there had been a third loop. I am concerned about the lack of direction he seems to have at this early stage of his life. Maybe something will spark his interest when he begins kindergarten in four years.

We also found a little shop called "Scotland by the Yard." It was chock full of all things Scotland. We dang near cleaned the place out. One thing that I enjoy very much is learning the etymology (is that the right word? I am from Medaryville; I'm talking about the origins of words) of surnames. My brother Mark researched our family a while back, and he was able to take it back quite a while. The research I have done is general stuff on the surname McKay. The info I found at the store today confirmed my research, which was a comfort. It would have been distressing to learn that I had been lying to people lo these many years. Those in my family who share my last name, as well as those members of my family who now have the last name Fetla but who formerly were known as McKay, will have something to look forward to at Christmas...our shopping is almost complete!

From White River Junction, Comfort Suites, 3rd floor...good night, one and all.

By the way, if anyone out there knows a good blogging software, I would appreciate a suggestion. Having done this for a little while now, I am at wits end with this blogspot thing. It is not a wysiwyg program, and it's hard to get pictures where you want them without completely horsing up everything else. If you see strange places in the blog like words broken across two lines, or spaces in some places but not in others, that's the kind of stuff I'm referring to. Help!