eleven

Five Monthiversary

2012-02-09T17:54:00.002-05:00

As I worked on my VW in twenty degree temps, I caught a whiff of wood smoke and turned to see a thin sliver of smoke rising from the chimney in my house. While I'm not sure a single post could contain all the special reasons that make me love my Lady, one thing hung in my mind as I smiled at the fact she'd started a fire while I was outside... not one time since the instructions I gave her the first time she started a fire here, have I ever worried that she could start --and keep going-- the fire that heats and protects my Log House from the winter elements. She truly is a wonderful creature I'm blessed to have spent the last five months with. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve such a wonderful person, but I promise to keep trying as long as she can put up with me. Happy Five Monthiversary, my lovely Lady.

Counting down

2012-02-08T08:56:00.003-05:00

In just 44 short days, I'll be working my last day at work before I leave for the Appalachian Trail. Just today I updated my TrailJournals page. HERE's the link to that entry. Check it out.

Be gone, you!

2012-01-18T08:59:00.003-05:00

So it's Wednesday morning, and I'm sitting on my couch instead of at work. The same cold I seem to get every winter has hit me exceptionally hard this year. It started the day after Christmas in what I thought was just a normal reaction to eating too much food. Three days later I still couldn't stray far from the toilet, and had since found out I wasn't alone in my flu symptoms. At least ten of my friends/family had the same exact issues within the same exact time frame, and all of them had been put out of commission the same way I had. Yikes.

I felt better by New Years, so my Lady and I travelled to Ft. Wayne to see our friends Andrew & Lyndsay. Andrew was one of the friends who had been suffering with me (and who I jokingly blamed for giving it to me in the first place), so it was good to see him doing better as well, and even better that neither of our women had contracted the dreadful toilet issues. Unfortunately, those good feelings were short lived and both of them came down with it the next week.

To make it worse, my Lady came down with a cold almost at the same time. The cold brought with it sneezing, coughing, runny nose, fever, and headaches. (We're still blaming Andrew for this as well, as he had a cold when we left Ft. Wayne.) My weak immune system couldn't handle the new junk in the air and I quickly came down with the same cold.

After a week of hacking and blowing my nose, my body completely broke down and last Saturday morning found me with the telltale facial pains of a sinus infection. By Monday, that had turned into swollen glands and strep throat. With the all-too-recent memories of my joint issues at the beginning of 2010 that were a direct result of a viral strep infection, I immediately called my Doctor. I'm a huge advocate of letting the body take care of itself, but I just couldn't risk another round of joint damage this close to the AT.

So, I'm home for three days getting over being contagious, still sniffling, still coughing, and my head still throbbing. I am so done being sick. It's sapping away my vacation time, it's keeping me from working out, and it's keeping me from spending valuable time with my Lady. Grrrr.............

My list of, "Still need to do..."

2012-01-12T09:01:00.005-05:00

Since Christmas, much of my thought-processes have been centered around my upcoming Appalachian Trail thru-hike. Keeping with that, I just posted a new journal entry on my Trail Journal page. If you haven't checked it out yet, look at my blogroll right over there ------------------->
and click on the Uncle Sam link. To go directly to the post, click HERE. In these last three months, much of my focus will be on the hike, so if you haven't done so yet, make sure you familiarize yourself with my Trail Journals page, because that's the only place you'll find me after the end of March.

Sunday stealing on a Tuesday

2012-01-03T22:25:00.003-05:00

I'm trying to keep my mind off my Dad, so I thought I'd do some stealing from MeMe Kimmy's blog.

1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before? Got divorced.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? Didn't make any and I didn't make any this year either.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? My friends Betsy, Megan, and Jen all had a baby. Not the same one, of course, but they all had one.

4. Did anyone close to you die? My old man, Farley cat. I miss him every day.

5. What countries did you visit? None!

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011? Get to that magic weight of 250. Only 20 or so pounds to go.

7. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? You'd think my divorce date would have stuck with me, but I can't remember it even now. But September 9th is huge to me as it's the day of my first date with my Lady.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? I found a peace with myself I wasn't sure I'd ever find. It was such a calming year for me.

9. What was your biggest failure? Overall, I feel really good about the year, so I choose not to answer this question.

10. What was the best thing you bought? My boots for my AT thru-hike. Man I love those things.

11. Whose behavior merited celebration? I'll echo Kimmy and say myself. I feel really good about where I was in comparison to where I'm at now. Thanks for the kudo's, Kimmy. I feel good.

12. Whose behavior made you appalled and disgusted? Same as Kimmy: a few people, but I would never name names.

13. What song will always remind you of 2011? Not so much a song, but a CD. Abraham James... Storytellers.

14. What do you wish you’d done more of? Hike.

15. What do you wish you’d done less of? Be negative.

16. Did you fall in love in 2011? Yes, yes I did.

17. What was your favorite new TV program? Parenthood.

18. What was the best book you read? The Shack.

19. What one thing would have made your year measurably more satisfying? Saving more money.

20. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011? I came into a discovery of wearing better clothes with my new weight. I've enjoyed being told I look good.

21. What kept you sane? My own peace, and of course my Lady.

22. Who did you miss? My Farley cat, and my parents.

23. Who was the best new person you met? My Lady, of course. She really is my better half and makes me a better person just by being around.

24. Tell us a valuable lesson you learned in 2011? Learn to like yourself, that's the key to true happiness.

25. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. I like Kimmy's so I'll steal it: I’m on the edge of glory, and I’m hanging on a moment with you!

2011 In Review

2011-12-30T23:15:00.002-05:00

I started out this year of eleven sure it was going to be a sad testament to an otherwise glorious number. In fact, if you had told me when the ball dropped to end the old year and welcome the year of eleven would be anything other than the worse year of my life, I felt I would have had an argument against your case. In sharp contrast, I'm the happiest I may have ever been. But before I end this post right there, here's a blow-by-blow of Sam's 2011...

The year started out with my marriage of thirteen plus years ending. At that point I really couldn't see what life would look like without my wife, but I really couldn't see it being anything worthwhile. As almost everyone close to us saw it, it was more like a death than a divorce; so much grief with no real explanation. What a horrible way to start a new year.

While the previous ten months had been bad enough, a few days before the annual Jamaican Party, I sat alone in front of a stereo speaker listening to a single song and crying my eyes out as I waited for my Ell to walk in the door that she would never walk through again. The devastation of realizing she was truly gone was the lowest of lows I had ever emotionally been in my life. It was the rock bottom I'd heard about in many psychological conversations, even though I couldn't see it at the time. By the time the night was over, all of my emotions, from good to bad and everything in between, were gone. I was blank.

Two days later I held the fourteenth annual Jamaican Party. It was a starkly different party than all thirteen before it, and to this very day, I barely remember anything from that night except knowing it shouldn't have happened. Many tried to make it a good time, but it was somber at very best.

After the emptying of hitting rock bottom, I got back into the dating game in the form of a hot, sassy, hundred pound blond girl eleven years my younger. The relationship was fast in every form of the word, and on the eve of St. Patrick's Day, turned out to be a little too fast. At four am, I left her drunk and naked on her bed, too much of a gentleman to follow through on the thing she was literally begging me do. It was not the best moment in my adult life, but it turned out to be exactly what I needed. This cute little blond wanted me just because I was me, and to the heart in my chest that had been so painfully rejected, that may as well have been an angel singing. It was truly a turning point for me.

Over the next few months leading into summer, I began to realize what I had actually lost, when I had actually lost it, what I was actually missing, and where I had actually lost it. Despite still never having any kind of a real conversation with Ell about our failures, I accepted them. In stark contrast to all the pretending I'd been doing for so long, I finally became alright with what my life looked like as a single man. Before long, I had settled into a peace that was evident to all around me.

As soon as that peace settled on my spirit, I set some new goals for myself including my health. Before the summer was over I had crossed the fifty pound mark in my weight loss and was still losing.

September dawned with the event of the year, the Columbiana Street Fair. Friday night I decided to walk the Fair with a young lady I'd met a few months previous. That night turned into another night, and then a hike a few days later, then a dinner the next Friday, and then more and more and more. At a moment in my life where I was not looking for companionship of any kind, in walked a Lady that seemed to have been made especially for me by God himself. There's more to this relationship than could possibly fit into a whole post let alone a single bullet point, so I'll just say the relationship is still going strong and I'm as happy as I've ever been in any relationship in my life.

In the ever-present goal of thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail, I sold my Log House in November and then held the, "Last Party in the Log House" two weeks later. It was a great time to celebrate memories and to allow my friends to leave their last mark (literally) on this page in my life.

In December, my Lady decorated the most beautiful tree in the history of Christmas in the living room of my Log House. It was a beautiful moment only made better Christmas Eve as my Lady and I opened our presents under the glow of its lights and bulbs.

2011 turned out much different than I thought it would, and as much as anyone thinks they can guess what the future holds, I sit here in wondrous anticipation of what 2012 holds for me. I share a toast to all of you and wish you the best that life has to offer in this new year. Cheers and love to all of you.

Some post Christmas ramblings

2011-12-26T09:01:00.003-05:00

So....... the question post kinda fell flat. I'll pretend it was because people were super busy with the holiday even though it was probably cuz no one cares about my secrets. :)

I've been on the planet for thirty seven Christmas days, and it wasn't until this year that I realized ham is a staple of that traditional dinner. I grew up enjoying very traditional Swedish fixin's, and the sparse other visits to other dinners over the years were far enough apart to not create a link in my brain. Last Saturday through yesterday I attended six parties with my Lady, and every one of them had ham. Hello, lightbulb. Suffice it to say, I ate a lot of ham even though I'm not a huge fan. As a result of all that ham as well as way too much other food, I'm been sick since 4am this morning. Blah............

This Christmas I decided I don't like (for myself) the idea of Christmas lists. I know there are some good arguments out there for their usefulness, but I really like the idea of listening to cues, hints, likes, and dislikes. To me, it shows how much you care about the people in your life to surprise them with things they love without having to ask for them. No slams on those of you who do lists, but I really like the idea of connecting to your loved ones in a deeper way.

I thought I had some more ramblings in me this morning, but that about taps me out. I hope all of you had a great holiday and I wish all of you a great New Year.

Post Six Hundred

2011-12-13T08:37:00.003-05:00

Kimmy reminded me I never announced a winner for the NaBloPoMo "Ghost" contest. It is with great pleasure that I can say no one guessed correctly. The "Ghost" post was Thanksgiving morning and was titled Morning Person. To read it click HERE. My Lady is quite pleased that she was able to channel my writing style, and even more excited that she is, in fact, not a morning person. The sentiments contained within the post were hers, but beyond the fact that she loves the beauty of the morning hours, she would much rather be in bed than awake to experience them. Thanks for all who guessed, but we got you. :)

I had wanted to do something special for my six hundredth post, but kept forgetting it was sneaking up on me. To make up for that, I want to mirror some of the writers in ELEVEN's blogroll who answer the rough/tough questions. So here's your chance. Ask me anything. Find out the answers you've always wondered about. Post your questions in the comment section and I'll use as many posts as necessary to answer every question.

Here's to the next six hundred posts.

Baby-Making shopping list

2011-12-11T08:41:00.002-05:00

One pack disposable razors
One gallon bottled water
One string white Christmas lights
One bag Christmas M&M's
One pack cigarettes
One bottle male enhancement pills

That was the exact armload of supplies the guy in front of me purchased at the drugstore yesterday. The lady at the cash register must have known him, because as she started to check him out she asked how his wife was doing. In a proud, a bit too loud voice, he answered, "Great. We're trying to have a baby!" The cashier politely rang him out and said goodbye, only to burst into laughter the minute he walked out the door. I, of course, joined in the laughter. Best of luck, dude.

Time to say goodbye to a friend

2011-12-01T18:26:00.006-05:00

Almost thirty seven years ago, a young couple found out they were pregnant with their first child. In anticipation of the impending uncomfortable state his wife would soon be in, the husband went to the local Lay-Z-Boy showroom and bought his wife a brand new, red plaid, wooden armed, reclining chair. That couple was my parents, that baby was me, and that chair was handed down to me when I got married and has been my very own Lay-Z-Boy for more than a decade.

As I type this, that Lay-Z-Boy now sits at the end of my driveway ready for the trash men to haul it away. Before anyone starts tearing me apart for throwing away a precious family heirloom, know that it probably should have been done years ago. I've had to repair the recliner mechanism twice, the fabric was completely gone on both sides thanks to a Great Dane and multiple cats' claws, it's been leaning against a wall for a long time due to the left side of the back support being collapsed, the seat cushion long ago gave way leaving the sitter sitting on the wooden frame support, and the wooden arms were sticky and gross from layers of sweat, drink, food, and who knows what else. Despite all those issues, I ignored the logic that it was ruined and held onto it as long as I could.

But alas, with the sale of my house and the elimination of almost all of my worldly possessions, I was forced to face the reality that the lifetime of my beloved Lay-Z-Boy had come to a close. For many years it held me snug as watched TV, was a warm resting place for my beloved cats, and was the favorite seat for my friends at more parties than I can count. Now, reality has set in and I see it as the horribly uncomfortable eyesore it truly is. Its time to go has come.

One of my favorite memories of my Lay-Z-Boy is the lasting image of my sisters sitting in it. When they were young, all three of them used to curl up on its broad, soft seat under an always present handmade blanket. This is a picture of my sisters Ginny and Kristen at a young age just after they'd woken up from a nap:

Many years later, when both of them had daughters of their own, they recreated the picture in the same chair:

And then, trying to capture the image close to the same age as their original picture, they sat their daughters down once again. As I've said, this is one of my favorite memories of the chair and I'm so glad my sister captured it on film. And I see it as a fitting way to remember the chair for all time. Goodbye, sweet Lay-Z-Boy.

And so it ends

2011-11-30T21:43:00.002-05:00

We've come to the end.

The end of another NaBloPoMo.

It's a mixed bag of emotions.

Sad the number of participants has dwindled so much.

Happy for those that took it to heart.

Somewhere in between my opinion of my own submissions.

I wish I'd done more.

I'm glad I made up my couple failures.

Somewhere in between my opinion of reality.

I say thank you to Kimmy and Adrienne.

Thank you for your companionship.

And thank you for your love.

This time next year will surely find us all in different places.

But I have no doubt the two of you will still be here to join me.

I also say thank you to my readers.

Thank you for your comments.

And thank you for your love.

A final thank you to my Lady.

Thank you for allowing yourself to be introduced in our own special way.

Thank you for our Christmas tree.

And thank you for your love.

I now say goodbye to NaBloPoMo.

You been a gracious host despite so many avoidance's.

Next year we promise to do better.

Until then..........

Some more Christmas fun

2011-11-29T20:26:00.004-05:00

When I was growing up my family would always decorate our Christmas tree together. One of the memories my Mom likes to remind me of is that every year I broke a bulb. It was never on purpose, but without fail, sometime during the evening there would be shards of glass at my feet. This year that tradition continued, but for the first time in my Christmas history, I wasn't the one to break the bulb........ it was my Lady. Oh, how good it feels to have broken the curse. :)

In all the decorating last night, no one missed out on the fun. And that includes the deer that hangs on my wall. He now sports a fancy red ribbon that matches the tree as well as two bows on his antlers. Ahhh....... the joys of the Christmas season.

Christmas Tree time

2011-11-28T23:39:00.009-05:00

As I've mentioned before, my Lady is a huge fan of the Christmas season. Setting up the tree is an intense event in her household that is so special it is reserved for her and her Mom and her next oldest sister. And yesterday I got to witness the spectacle along with her stepDad, brothers, and younger sister. But as fun as that was, tonight it was my turn.

With a wonderful hand-me-down gift from her family, my Lady and I began the decorating of our tree around 7:30pm tonight. After assembling the artificial branches on the tree base, we fluffed them to make it look full and real. Then my Lady spent a full hour and a half filling them with seven hundred lights. My only real tradition is a bulb from my High School alma-mater which I hang first and always at the very top of the tree. After I placed it in its special spot, then my Lady pulled out two special gifts she'd bought especially for our first Christmas Tree: two ornaments of our initials. It was truly an emotional moment to hang them together; me hanging her initial and her hanging mine.

After lacing the tree with bold red ribbon, we took out some old burgundy bulbs handed down to me from my Mom from my childhood Christmas trees. My Lady snapped the following beautiful picture of one of those bulbs...

The next picture is the view my Lady sees from the spot on my couch she's claimed as her own. This is what she's going to see every night, and it's nice to see the tree from her point-of-view.

As you all know, I heat my home with wood; no furnace or anything else. With the ambiant heat of a fire against the warmth presence of my Log House, I absolutely love this next picture...

As the tree was going up, we both commented that a Christmas tree looks so much better in a log house than anywhere else. And in turn, a log house needs a Christmas tree to look complete. It's crazy when I think about the fact that for so many holiday seasons this house went without a tree. Christmas is my favorite season, and I'm so very happy my Lady is intense about it as well. There are a few funny pictures, but I'll save them for later. For now, I'll leave you with a full picture of our gorgeous first Christmas tree. Enjoy...

Yuck

2011-11-27T22:24:00.002-05:00

Well, today was a great day but I'm ending it feeling sick. Nothing major, just ate too much crappy food today. Both my Lady and I felt the same way so we ended our night early and now I'm home for the evening. I did get to experience my Lady and her Mom set up a gorgeous Christmas tree in their living room, and with my Lady's intense love for the holiday season, they donated a tree and a bunch of decorations for my last Christmas here at the Log House. Tomorrow night she has plans to set it up and decorate it for me, and I'm super excited for how festive my house will be when she's done. I'll be sure and share pictures after.

For now, goodnight.

And how's about a third

2011-11-26T22:48:00.002-05:00

I need to catch up so I don't feel like a loser. Hence the thrice posting in one day.

Here's what I'm doing right now.......

-Attempting to digest my Pondi's burger
-Watching college football
-Sitting next to my Lady while she sleeps as I watch football (I guess she's informing me of her priorities)
-Posting a little on CPS
-Thinking about how much I appreciate the strength of my Mom
-Mentally packing some boxes and mentally throwing stuff away
-Wishing I had the energy to smoke a pipe
-Laughing at my Lady because she just had one of those sleeping-jolts that woke her up
-Being annoyed at stupid commercials
-Laughing at the funny ones
-Still smiling at the thought of Michigan winning today while knowing my sister must have been wondering if I was going to call her to rub it in........ which I shall not
-Trying hard not to fall asleep as I type
-Being thirsty

And with that, I bid you all adieu.

#2 for the day

2011-11-26T14:58:00.001-05:00

I'm currently watching "The Game", Michigan versus Ohio State. The score is currently 37-27, Michigan, so I'm in a good mood. I'm going to end this post now in case it starts to go the other way and I'm tempted to throw something.

Go Blue!!!

Fail

2011-11-26T05:21:00.002-05:00

That's twice now I haven't posted during this grand month o' posting. I've now become the person I used to make fun of. How could anyone not post if they have the Internet in their house? Oh yeah, they fell asleep. ---insert embarassed emoticon---

Well, today I shall attempt to remedy my two failed days by posting three times in one day. It's barely after 5am and I'm wide awake, so why not start right now?!

Here's my plan for the day......
-Try to get a little more sleep, but probably just do some blog surfing
-Shower (I do not smell good)
-Go to work from 8-2
-Rush home to watch the rest of the Michigan/Ohio State game........... Go Wolverines!!!
-Intersperse some housework like dishes and laundry in between other football viewing
-Take my Lady out for dinner and a movie
-Come home to catch SNL and hope it's not a rerun
-Go to bed

I'm sure very little of that will actually happen, but it's good to have a list. Until later......... Peace.

Morning Person

2011-11-24T08:17:00.004-05:00

It probably comes as no surprise to those that know me well that I love the mornings. I think it started as a child when my bedroom was on the East side of the house which allowed the sun to pour in my windows as the morning was born. And it has continued into adulthood mainly because I rarely get/need more than six hours of sleep a night, which usually finds me awake at the buttcrack of dawn. With the exception of a few friends, I'm usually alone in this love of the morning. In fact, my Lady is still asleep upstairs as I sit here on the couch; caring more to start this day of Thanksgiving under the covers than with me. ;)

But my love of mornings is deeper than just saying hello to the sun because I'm not tired...... there's much more going on and it is a deep rooted appreciation for what the morning means to the world. In some ways, the morning hours feel as if they belong to me and me alone. There are no clients clamoring to see me, no demands from my boss and nothing I have to do for any other person except myself. I can reflect on my deepest thoughts because my body is still somewhat calm, without distraction from inner struggles. Many who know me realize that I have an overactive brain and thought process, so for me to have a moment in the day where there are only one or a few deep things to ponder is a big deal.

This peaceful feeling comes to me in the wake of the day because of the overwhelming feeling that the morning possesses and shares with me. The stillness and unity of all earthly life is a peaceful and beautiful experience. Every being, from people to critters and plants, seem to have leftover sleepiness that creates that stillness. We are all on the same page at this time of day. In the morning, it feels as if the entire population that the sun currently reaches is on the same team; that we are trying to accomplish a similar goal.

Through the week the world wakes up to begin the day with a subdued hustle and bustle. Each person is trying to get to work or school or run errands. Some are annoyed with traffic, but I understand that each person is wanting to accomplish the same goal as I am: get to work and get the day going. A school bus stopping can be a damper on anyone's commute to work but I have an appreciation for those kids as they carry backpacks as heavy as they are, starting their day, the same as I am. I can't help but smile and think about the earth waking and want to say, "Go world."

My Lady has now joined me after trudging down the stairs, her hair a mangled yet beautiful disaster. A few cups of coffee later, perhaps she will grace me with her first words of the day. This Thanksgiving morning still has the feeling of, "Go team" while families are putting the turkey in the oven, debating whether to have breakfast or save room in their bellies, watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and remembering what they are thankful for.

For me, I am thankful for mornings. For the moment of peace. For a time to be with my thoughts. I am thankful to start this day, though in a staggered fashion, with my Lady and her love for the holidays. She is still in her process of waking, but I can still see her excitement to spend the day with loved ones.

Good morning world, go team, and Happy Thanksgiving.

I'm getting old

2011-11-23T22:09:00.002-05:00

Well, not me exactly, but my existence and those in it. At least that's how I felt tonight. On the biggest party night of the year, not a single one of my friends wanted to party. One of my couple friends has always thrown a Thanksgiving-eve party, but this year the husband was feeling the effects of a cold and decided a party wasn't in the cards. I sent out multiple emails and text messages asking who else was doing something, or even wanted to come over to my house, and except one invite to go to dinner, I got no responses. Grrr.....

While I would never be so selfish to ask someone to abandon their family just to provide me with a good time, I have to admit I was annoyed at the lack of anyone wanting to hang out. I guess my circle of friends just isn't into that kind of thing anymore.

It's been interesting seeing this phase of my life through the eyes of my 22 year old Lady. She is a wonderful creature who is fully willing to accept all of my friends as her own, but in that experience, she has noticed that at my stage of life (and the corresponding stages of my friends' lives) that most everyone is married with kids. While she loves kids and is great with them (she has five younger siblings, in fact,) she has none of her own and in hanging out with my friends, she isn't getting to experience those friends as just themselves, but rather as parents. She likes and accepts my friends, but it's clear she has missed out on knowing them as I once knew them. She's never once complained about that and I'm certain she doesn't care, but it's something I can't help wishing she had been able to experience about me and about them.

So, I just feel like I'm getting old, that's all. And I wanted to party tonight, that's all. :)

The season of invitations

2011-11-22T23:09:00.002-05:00

Last year was a rough year for me, but the thing that made it somewhat managable was the outpouring of compassion from my friends. Being alone on my first major holiday had the potential to be a sad time, but at last count, I received nine invitations to join other families as they came together for Thanksgiving dinner. It felt wonderful to have so many people care about me being alone. This year already I have five invitations. While having my Lady in my life is the number one thing I'll be thankful for this Thanksgiving week, a close second is knowing I have an amazing network of friends in my corner. I feel like this may be a lame post for its shortness, but that's all I'm really thinking about right now.

Wing Night

2011-11-21T18:38:00.002-05:00

My Lady and I are getting wings tonight, so I thought I'd sneak in a post before my laptop is destroyed by greasy finger drippings.

mmmmmmmm............................. wings.

The Last Party at the Log House

2011-11-20T16:40:00.002-05:00

The latter part of this week was consumed by a great tragedy in my life. When I sat down to write last night's post, I had every intention of talking about what had happened and its strange connection to this moment in my life. But it wouldn't come to the surface, and even now can not find its way to print. There is much sorrow mixed with helplessness and the events simply don't form full thoughts that would make any sense. I want to tell you all, but I think I need to be in a certain emotional state to adequately make sense of it...... and that's not where I'm at today.

Instead I want to remember the events of last night and share some of them with those who weren't here. As the title of this post presents, last night was the Last Party at the Log House. It was a smaller affair than many of the other parties the House has hosted, but as some of us reflected later that night, it was the perfect size. In fact, it turned out to be one of the most amazing parties ever. Even though there were some obvious faces absent that would have added to the atmosphere, the vibe of the evening was amazing.

The term, "Wake" was mentioned more than once, but not in a sad way. As my friend Steve informed us, the traditional Wake was usually a party to say goodbye. And with laughter, alcohol, food, destruction of property, beer, fire, dollar-bets, dancing, trivia, drunken-remodeling, music, laughter that made our faces hurt and stomachs ache, we all felt we gave the Log House a proper Wake. We all had our chance to say goodbye in our own personal way, and we all had a good time doing it. And then the night ended as it should have, with some of my best friends in the world, Mike & Ginny, sitting around the kitchen table with me and my Lady until after 3am.

I've said it before, it will be a sobering moment when I move out of this house I've called my home for over thirteen years. My childhood home is the only place I lived longer (and only by one year,) so this is a big deal to me. There are a lot of good memories in this house as well as some very bad ones. But as Mike reminded me, whatever category those memories fall into, the Log House was just the setting, not the thing that happened. And so that's how I choose to say goodbye: remembering the Log House as the place that held me in its arms for many, many years and provided me with the chance to grow friendships and make lasting memories.

With the party done and the mess (mostly) cleaned up, tomorrow starts the packing, gifting, throwing away process. But even as I begin that, the Party itself will begin to become a distinct memory in itself, and will ring clear in my mind as one of the greatest moments I ever had in this beautiful place. And so I raise my glass to you Log House. Thank you for everything. Cheers.

Tonight we say, "Goodbye."

2011-11-19T18:06:00.002-05:00

A lot has happened this week. Much of it I haven't found the right words to explain out loud. Too much of it has been sad. Still more of it has caused emotions to rise in my chest too deep to define. And all of it has caused a pause that leads only to saying, "Goodbye." Tomorrow I will try to sit down and write about how it has all played out. For now, I shall simply wrap my arms around my Lady and accept her hug of support as I wait for others to join me in my farewell.

Score one for me

2011-11-18T14:46:00.003-05:00

Due to a major event that happened yesterday (which I'll post about this weekend) the Internet is down at my house. So I'm back at the coffee shop where all this blogging nonsense started. Ill probably be posting here for a couple days, so I might as well get used to it. But enough of that.... here's the real post for today.........

I did not enjoy being a student. Really. School was a drag when there was so much world out there that needed to be explored. So, in High School, when I found a teacher that not only grabbed my attention but kept it too, I was enthralled. She was an advanced Math teacher and was amazing at connecting with her students. The way she taught was intriguing to me which in turn made me learn so much better than I normally would have. That was until one day when our worlds' collided.

We were learning a new math process that was hard; really hard. But beyond being difficult to grasp, the path it took you down to get the answer was nonsensical and a ridiculous waste of time. After spending three or four days really trying to wrap my brain around it, I finally had to raise my hand and ask that question every Math teacher must dread: "What am I ever going to use this for in the real world?" You could physically see the blood rising in her eyes.

The next few minutes were very scary as this small-framed woman I had never once even seen annoyed was now yelling and screaming. It was a very surreal moment that is still one of the most intense moments I've ever had in my life. She finished her tirade with the following statement, "Find me in twenty years and tell me what you think about what you said." Well, today that happened.

I walked into the lobby to invite a customer the tellers had told me needed to renew a CD. To my surprise, it was my teacher. After we had taken care of business, I reminded her who I was and about that conversation. And then, with a smug smile on my face, informed her that the stupid Math she had been trying to teach me that day was a waste of my time and held no worth in my current existence as a Banker. She was truly shocked to see where I had ended up in life, but gracious with her apology. I thanked her for being a great teacher, but made sure she knew that following the rules and refusing to think outside the box wasn't always the best way to deal with kids. She agreed and we parted ways. It was a satisfying moment that I was glad I was able to check off my life list.

And so I don't ruin the trend of mentioning my Lady in every post this month........... I can't wait to tell her about the interaction. My Lady is extremely intelligent so I'm not sure she'll approve of me treating a teacher like that, but I know she'll smile at my little life-win.

Score one for Sam.

Well, darn it

2011-11-17T00:30:00.002-05:00

I missed a day. I had every intention of posting, but then my Lady and I fell asleep on the couch watching TV. I awoke at 12:05 and introduced the palm of my hand to my forehead with a groan. But in a midnight-hour-justification of NaBloPoMo's thirty posts in thirty days, I've decided to post a half hour late.

My Lady has left for home, and I shall now leave for bed. My apologies once again to all four of ELEVEN's readers for the late post. Goodnight, all.

Movie Night

2011-11-15T20:45:00.003-05:00

Tuesday nights have become a movie night for my Lady and I. Tonight we chose a movie from Redbox (my first experience with it) called, The Tree of Life. We're only forty minutes into it and we're both kind of annoyed with it. It's an awkward movie including a fifteen minute visual depiction of the creation of the Earth. There's been very little dialogue except for random quoting of scripture. I have a few people in my head I want to recommend it too for the oddness that it portrays, but that may change if it progresses in the same unusual path with little to no storyline.

Dinner on the table

2011-11-14T18:47:00.002-05:00

Monday's are the longest day in the banking world. I usually start by pulling into the parking lot between 7:15-7:30 and usually don't leave until 6:15-6:30. Today was the excess of those times and the end of the day was exceptionally rough due to some very poor customer service by my manager which ended up possibly costing me an investment sale. To say I was uber ready to go home would be the understatment of the year.

Right before I left, I noticed an email from my Lady stating she was going to be making me dinner. I'm not sure I stopped having an emotional overload the entire drive home. And then I pulled into my driveway and saw the lights in my house on, and caught a glimpse of my Lady bustling around the kitchen, and the emotions bubbled to the surface.

If you know me well, you know I am the not the type of guy who expects his woman to have dinner ready or even sees a woman's place as in the kitchen or doing laundry or any of the other chauvenistic things people say about woman. In fact, the entire time Ell and I were married we worked different shifts and her having dinner prepared for me when I got home was a rare thing. But as I pulled into the driveway and then walked into my house to the smell of good cooking, my heart smiled bigger than it may have ever smiled.

I wrapped my arms around my Lady and felt her breath against my chest, and sighed a giant sigh of happiness. At that very moment, I felt an intense wave of love for this woman in a way that was new to me in so many ways. What I've done to deserve such an gracious act of service is beyond me, but for the first time in my life I knew it was something I had been craving and needing. Here was a person, herself having worked a long day of work, willing to sacrifice her evening for the pleasure and satisfaction of her man. I don't know what the future holds for the two of us, but tonight I saw a vision of us being happy many years in the future.

To be completely honest, the thought of her making me dinner felt like I was putting her out and expecting something I didn't deserve to expect. But her willingness to please me by cooking dinner for me made those uneasy feelings float away on the smells of her cooking. I love this woman, and I hope I can do enough to make her equally happy with me as I am with her.

Not my own

2011-11-13T22:34:00.002-05:00

I'm too tired to post my, "reflective" thoughts tonight, so instead I thought I'd tell you all something weird that happened today. While my Lady and I sat on the couch watching football, the new owner of my house showed up outside. Over the course of a few hours, he had mowed my entire yard and raked up and hauled away all the leaves that covered the lawn. As he worked, I began to feel like an outsider in my own home. Someone else was taking care of what was once my responsibility. Someone was on my property without being invited. It was an odd feeling.

While none of what happened is actually out of line or wrong, and it's not as if I didn't know things were going to be different, but it really hit me that my home is no longer my home. I was worried about things that I had never been worried about before. I was aware of my personal space more than I ever had been before. And I was protective of my belongings more than I ever had been before. More than at any time before today, I no longer wanted to live here. I love this house and am proud of what it has been for me, but it's time to move on.

I guess this turned out to be reflective after all.

Que: Rolling eyes

2011-11-12T23:13:00.002-05:00

I don't have anything interesting to say with the time I have left in the day. I hate to put up a useless post, but I don't want to miss a day of NaBloPoMo. I promise a, "reflective" post tomorrow about some things that were passing through my mind all day today. There's way too much in my brain about it and I want to be sure and give it the time and respect it deserves.

On that note, I'm signing off so I can snuggle with my Lady. :)

11/11/11

2011-11-11T13:40:00.002-05:00

Well, it has arrived..... The best day ever invented. :)

To commemorate the event, here's a list of a few things in my life that include the number eleven:

To start with, it's my favorite number and something I say almost every day
The name of this blog
The beginning of the Perseids meteor shower (August 11)
My Dr. Grabow "Special 11" pipe
My Nate King "Irish-Dane 11-11" pipe
My CPS 2010 POY (Pipe of the Year), stamped number 11 of 50
The title (11:11) of a CD by one of my favorite musical artists, Rodrigo Y Gabriela
The amount of years I've been in the Finance Industry
Name of Jack Iron's band
The year I met my Lady
The size of my work shoes
Part of my Grandfather's favorite saying: "Forty-Eleven"
My phone extension at work

There's many, many other things throughout my life that have included the number eleven, and all of them have been good. I feel like I should make this post a hundred eleven lines long, but for now I'm going back to enjoying the whole day with my Lady. :)

I would like to introduce you to.....

2011-11-10T10:32:00.003-05:00

..... my new website. A few months ago I created a website and then bought a domain name, but as luck would have it I had a hard time figuring out the updated codes to get it online. The other night my friends Chris and Kate came over for dinner with my Lady and I, and Chris offered to take a look at it. Within a few minutes he had my website online. Hooray! The site includes a link to ELEVEN, a link to my AT TrailJournals page, a link to buy my book(s), another interesting page, and a contact form. I'm so very excited about this.

If you'd like to check it out --and I hope you do-- the link is here: fortyeleven.com

Try it out and tell me what you think.

Wow, these eyes are heavy

2011-11-09T22:22:00.002-05:00

My Lady and I split a bottle and a half of wine and we're having a hard time staying awake. So before I commit a party foul during NaBloPoMo's first ten days, here's my post for 11/09/11. I know it sucks and I apologize for its sadness, but I promise to make up for it the next couple days. For now though, my Lady's arms and sleep are calling out to me. I bid you all adieu.

A contest

2011-11-08T12:28:00.002-05:00

My friend Andrew suggested a fun idea for my NaBloPoMo experience this year...... having my Lady ghost write a post and see if anyone can guess which one it is. So here's how it will play out: Starting tomorrow and extending throughout the rest of the month, each post has the potential to be ghost-written by my Lady. So, if you're reading a post and think it was written by her, simply type the word, "Ghost" in the comments. On December 1st I'll announce the correct answer. Whoever gets it right will get a prize yet-to-be-determined. There may only be four people reading ELEVEN these days, but it should still be fun. :)

The vacation has begun

2011-11-07T21:51:00.003-05:00

In the world of banking, it's a requirement for all non-exempt employees to take a full five days in a row as paid time off. So far this year I hadn't done that. With Veterans Day coming up on Friday, I figured it was a good time to take those five days while only having to use four vacation days.

I started the first day of my vacation texting my Lady a, "Good Morning" message, lounged around until 11:00am, posted on CPS, drank an entire pot of good coffee, and smoked my pipe. Then I worked outside in the gorgeous Fall weather cleaning up the yard for a couple hours. After that I visited the grocery store to gather supplies for the dinner I was planning for my Lady. I returned home, shaved, showered, and started dinner. My Lady ended up making dinner (which was probably for the best) and we enjoyed some wine as we ate. And now she's curled up in a blanket and snuggled against me as I write this. All-in-all, it's been a great start to vacation week.

Christmas Ale

2011-11-06T12:54:00.003-05:00

I broke one of my cardinal beer rules this year and started drinking Christmas Ale before Thanksgiving. My friend Mike broke the same rule but justified it by declaring, "I could be dead tomorrow." I like that reasoning. Here's a picture my Lady took of the event. This was a first for her, and I believe I'm doing a good job of making her a beer snob up to par with me. :)

Cheers.

Asuka

2011-11-05T21:38:00.002-04:00

Tonight I had my first local hibachi experience. Many years ago I went to a Japanese restaurant in Columbus that ended up being a $700 night; thankfully paid for by the Dad of one of my friends. After that amazing meal, it's been hard to imagine anything more amazing than that meal. But tonight, with the urging of my Lady, I broke that fast.

It wasn't anything like that meal almost a decade ago, but it was still fun. The cook did some flipping of broccoli into our mouths, he shot Sake into my Lady's mouth, and he lit the grill on fire in the shape of a heart. It was a good time and the food was good too.

At the end of the meal, I was surprised by a visit from my friend Kate who had seen my car outside. And now I'm sitting on my couch watching college football while my Lady is doing her nails next to me. A great night all around.

Words

2011-11-04T18:54:00.002-04:00

My Lady sent me a couple emails at work today that I immediately wanted to save forever. At first I was angry they were stuck in something as stupid as my work email. And then she reminded me I could forward them to my personal email and save them forever. Why didn't I think of that?

As I thought about that later in the day, I was struck with how important "words" are to me. When I was a Youth Pastor I used to send my students letters of encouragement and advice. As the years went by, I saved every one of those letters. Whenever I would have correspondence with my family and friends, I saved those as well. I even have every email and letter traded between Ell and I before, during, and after our divorce. There's just something about "words" that seem so permanent and binding to me. It's as if those "words" would be lost if I somehow got rid of the papers/emails they were written on/in.

Another way this takes form is in books. In the last year or so my book collection has dropped significantly. But even though many of them were books I didn't need or even want, not a one of them were thrown away. Not because they were junk or anything (because some of them were,) but it would feel like true sacrilege if I threw them in the trash. I can't explain it, but I'm not sure I could ever throw a book away.

Blogging is the final form of my insanity. I think I would feel a massive loss in my life if this electronic record of my words were to disappear. What a horrible thought. Really, it gives me the chills just thinking about it.

Not sure what any of that means, but it's a very real thing to me. Part of me wonders if this fascination with "words" comes from the fact that I visually see every word I write, hear, say, spelled out in my mind. It's like I'm reading the words as they are spoken or heard. I see them. Every one. It's weird, but very real.

The greatest season of all

2011-11-03T22:06:00.003-04:00

From the first time I heard it I've been intrigued with the phrase, "seasons of life." For so long I thought life was just life and it had a start and an end and everything in between just was. But when I break down my life as phases --or seasons-- it brings new meaning and purpose to each thing as it happens. Some of those seasons are short, some of them are long, but there's no denying that everything falls into a season of existence.

For a couple years now I've felt stuck in a sad, disheartening season. But as much of a downer as that season has seemed, it opened my eyes to a season that preceded it that I now see as being nothing but life with a blanket over its head. There was distrust, avoidance, denial, and dishonesty all within its walls. Much of that was my own doing, which is plain for me to see with a little bit of help of Ell finally being honest with me. With one simple email, the blanket was removed, the muffled fakeness was revealed, and then my life as I knew it was abruptly ended. Which then opened up the season that consumed the last two years.

Thankfully, that immense sadness has been replaced with a season I can only describe as hope. As I write this, I'm sitting on the floor of a house that is no longer my own. My Lady is behind me on the couch, softly exhaling as she sleeps. The walls around me are bare of anything unneeded or unnecessary. And a determined smile is set firmly on my face. I have little to my name at this point in my life except the things that truly matter to me. That makes me happy. That gives me hope.

This next season of my life may look scary or even stupid to anyone looking in from the outside. I have no home and very little belongings to put in one if I had it. In four months I'll be quitting a career I'm really, really good at. I have a Lady that is fourteen years my younger. And when people ask me what I plan on doing when I get back from my hike, my always-answer is, "I don't know." All of those seem way outside the normalcy of life. All of those seem like the exact opposite of what a rational human being should be doing. All of those seem like I'm taking a lot of risk with a potential for a lot of pain. And so while all of those must look crazy to the outside world, they are in fact, energizing and exciting to me. The world and my life are wide open right now, and that makes me feel so alive.

This new season will be different. There is a new Lady in it. There will be a new home in it. There will be no job in it. And there will be a grand adventure in it. And when I come out of this season, I have to wonder if it will not have been the greatest season I've ever had.

Goodbye, Log House

2011-11-02T17:39:00.004-04:00

I'm going out with my Lady tonight, and since our evenings often tend to stretch into nights and next days, I figured I'd get in a post now before I lose the day.

Besides my Lady, the biggest thing happening in my life right now is the sale of my house. After spending two and a half hours going from one gov't agency to another to get Ell's name off the house, I was informed last week that we had done one of the papers wrong. Of course it wasn't caught by any of the four departments I had gone to that day (I mean, who would expect them to inform me of an error?!) so when it was caught by the title company, it meant having to get a brand new Deed recorded. After fighting with them for days and then spending another wad of cash out of my own pocket, Ell was emailed the corrected form to sign and then had to overnight it to me from Texas so it could be recorded correctly. After all that (obviously abbreviated for ease of reading) nightmare, tomorrow afternoon I will no longer be a homeowner.

It's a very strange feeling, to be sure. Today I pulled in the driveway from work and it hit me that would be the last time I did that while I owned it. This wonderful house that has been my home for almost thirteen years will now be owned by someone else. The new owner has granted me the freedom to live here until I leave for the AT, but even so, every day will be birthed with the knowledge that it's no longer mine. Strange.

Sometime this month, my Lady and I will be throwing the last party here in the Log House. It has the potential to be a somber time, but it will probably be just as much fun as all the parties held here have been. And despite any remorse or sadness, I'm very excited for the next season of my life. The house will be missed, but it's time to move on. Goodbye, Log House.

By the skin of my teeth

2011-11-01T23:40:00.002-04:00

Wow. I almost missed the first day of NaBloPoMo. I started the evening making dinner for my Lady, then we addressed and stuffed envelopes for the last party at the Log House, then we watched Glee, and then we spent the next two hours talking about our relationship. It was one of the most amazing conversations we've had to date. I am so wonderfully attracted to this person, and I am so, so happy right now. As I write my first entry to this great month of daily blogging, I'm wondering how much of the month will be about her. If that ends up being boring to you, I apologize to you in advance, but I refuse to stop smiling. :)

An update for Mike

2011-10-25T21:21:00.003-04:00

A friend who shall remained unnamed (heehee) gave me a little razzing for not posting in awhile. He even insinuated it was because I've been distracted with my Lady. Yeah, he might be right. :)

So here's a few details about what I've been up to........

The sale of my house was supposed to have been closed today. Turns out the title company had issue with the Quit Claim Deed and said it was missing one word: "single" after Ell's name. What a load of crap. So now I have to wait until I get the original in the mail and then get it amended. Grrr.

When the house is finally sold, I'll be giving away almost all of my possessions. The appliances, the furniture, everything, has a name attached to it and will be gifted to them when I finally get around to moving out. It's an exhilarating feeling to know I'll own very few earthly belongings when it all shakes out. I've done the math, and everything left will be able to fit into a small minivan. It's such a cool thing to literally be starting over.

If anyone is paying attention, 11-11-11 is almost here. I have some amazing plans to be up from the time midnight switches the date to the end of the day. To amp it up one more level, I plan to spend the 11:11:11 moment on 11-11-11 with my lips attached to my Lady.

And speaking of my Lady, that relationship is going so well. We have an amazing connection on all levels, and everyday I'm more convinced this thing is as real as it gets. She makes me unbelievably happy and so fulfilled there have been times I've wondered if I've ever been more perfectly matched to someone in my life. With my history there's a lot to think about, but even with all that internal reflection I can't deny this Lady fits. I am so dang happy having her in my life.

And there it is. An update for the masses................. and for Mike. :)

At the Bank

2011-10-08T19:20:00.003-04:00

A guy came into my office yesterday and this was the conversation that followed...

Customer: I bought a truck yesterday at a dealership and now I don't want it.
Me: Umm...
Customer: There's something wrong with the front end, so now I don't want it anymore.
Me: Have you gone back to the dealership and talked to them?
Customer: I don't think they'd be very nice about it. Can't you just cancel the loan for me?
Me: Well, that's not exactly how it works. When a dealership uses a bank to do their financing, they are in charge of the paperwork. It doesn't go through the branch. But if you'd like, I could make some phone calls to our bank headquarters and see if I can help. Would you like me to do that?
Customer: What good would that do? They didn't use your bank for the loan.

I love my job.

I need new pants

2011-10-06T09:22:00.002-04:00

Last winter I posted some news about my weight loss. Unfortunately, shortly thereafter I took a downward spiral as I dealt with the emotional turmoil of my divorce. I gained back over twenty five of the forty pounds I'd lost, and to be honest, the full maximum of the weight I'd lost was due to having the flu. So from around Christmas until mid-summer this year, I floated around the three hundred range and once again felt gross about myself.

Skip ahead to August..... I mentally slapped my face and reminded myself I am worth more than my weight or my bad eating habits. I once again committed to good health and my future and set myself back on track. I'm happy to say that between then and now I've lost all the weight I'd lost before, and even more. To add to that already good news, I now weigh less than I have in the last ten years. And I'm not looking back.

To put numbers to this, as of Monday morning I've lost 52 pounds. Every day I have more energy and feel stronger. This is awesome and I'm so happy with my decision to be healthier.

Just wanted to share.

Finger Webs

2011-10-01T15:55:00.004-04:00

Last night I took my lady to meet some of the most important people in my life. It was a fun night of good food, laughter, and building friendships. But the thing that made the night for me was the drive home. She'd had a long day at work and as the clock turned into the next day, she took my right hand and laced the small fingers of both her hands into it and fell asleep as I drove the hour to her house. Every so often a bump or curve in the road would wake her up, and she'd re-thread her fingers into mine which made my heart smile every time. As this relationship slowly grows, it's things like that action that remind me this is worth all the effort I'm putting into it. This is a really special lady and I'm better for each hour I get to spend with her.

R.I.P. Farley

2011-09-25T13:25:00.002-04:00

So, I have some sad news in an otherwise happy time in my life. My old man cat, Farley went to eternal sleep Friday afternoon. For anyone that knew him, they know he was a rare cat. He would do this thing where he wrapped his arms around your neck and hug you. It would truly melt your heart and will be the one thing I miss the most about him. When I shared my sadness with the gents on CPS, one of my friends shared a poem with me and I thought it was a fitting tribute to Farley. Rest In Peace, Farley. You will be missed.

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

-author unknown

Laughing

2011-09-21T22:48:00.003-04:00

I went out with my new lady friend tonight for the ol', Dinner & a Movie. Without going into too much detail, I just want to say I'm not sure I've ever laughed as much as I did tonight. My face is actually sore from laughing, it was that awesome. I don't know what it is about her, but she just fits. Throughout my life I've had signposts that were so obvious to me I didn't have to read them or look where they were pointing or decipher their message, I just followed because it felt absolutely natural and right. Since I think too much about most things in my life, I'm hesitant to say this person is one of those signposts. Besides, that wouldn't be fair to her or to me. But for now, I'm so wonderfully happy to be with her and I feel so wonderfully alive, I'll admit the thought has crossed my mind more than once. Aaaaa............. I can't stop smiling. :) Just wanted to share.

Me and the lady folk

2011-09-15T20:43:00.004-04:00

The girl I've been seeing for awhile sent me this tonight. She just so happens to work at Subway on the weekends, so this was funny on a couple levels. But beyond the fact that she makes me laugh, spending time with her got me thinking about what I'm looking for in a woman, or to be more exact, if I'm actually looking at all.

Anyone who was reading ELEVEN in March of this year knows that the girl I was going out with then (the only person I've dated since Ell left) was 24 years old. This one is 22 years old. And if anyone is keeping score, I'm 36. Now before you call me a cradle-robber, or worse, know that I'm not intentionally going after younger women. That said, there's no denying I'm not currently attracted to women my own age. What that means has been the thing rolling around in my head for some time.

The one psychological possibility I've pondered is the fact that when I was with Ell I was madly in love with the idea of growing old with her. It didn't matter to me that Ell was going to get wrinkles or gray hair or that eventually things wouldn't always be pointing in the right direction. In fact, I was looking forward to those things and to the idea of the two of us aging together. Every day Ell got older she was more attractive to me than the day before. I know that might not be a normal guy thing to say -- that I found beauty in extra skin or an aging face -- but it wasn't a secret those things were special to me. Now that she's gone, the end to that pondering thought is I may not want to get involved with someone who's already in the middle of that aging process; i.e. someone my age. I know that sounds superficial and possibly ignorant and rude, but remember, it's only a theory. And if that theory turns out to be correct, it would explain my attraction to younger women.

Those of you who know me well, know I'm not the asshole kind of a guy who sees women as objects for belittling or domineering. As much as I know many people feel differently, I see marriage as a 50/50 partnership. There are unique roles that men and women play in a relationship, but I will never agree that those roles should ever be demanded or forced. A true, even biblical, example of marriage is submission not domination. Every truly happy marriage I see is one where each person involved is willing to be submissive and honoring of their role in the marriage and never, ever demands the other do the same. Furthermore, I see those happy marriages happen because the partners want to respect one another out of only love and nothing else either warped or oppressive.

As a human, I feel deeply, love wholly, and respect completely. If I were to be honest I'd have to admit I'm still at a loss for where my life is headed since Ell left. For many years I searched for answers to the elusive questions like, "What will you be when you grow up?" and, "What's your five year plan?" and as Ell neared the end of her schooling there were finally starting to be some answers to those questions. But when she left, they all crashed to the ground. Where will I be in five years? I have no clue. What will I be doing? Again, no clue. But despite not having those answers, I'm still very happy and wonderfully at peace. As strange as it sounds, I no longer need answers to my questions to be happy. I'm still the same guy but my life is no longer dictated by needing to follow a certain path.

So what am I really looking for? Do I need the next woman I marry (if I even decide to get married again) to be younger so that I can enjoy the aging process I so love? Am I spitting on all those great qualities people say I have by being superficial in my dating decisions? Or am I just a confused individual who's unanswered questions will leave him wandering forever? Well, even to those questions I don't have good answers, but I will say I'm still the same guy I've always been, albeit with some healing scars. I will always, always, always treat the woman I'm with, with mad respect, and no matter her age, give her my all. That will never change.

Am I perfect? Gracious no. Am I looking for the perfect woman? Again, no. No one is perfect, but together a man and woman can find a harmony with each other that washes away imperfection and leaves something even more special. And that's all I want..... a chance to build something of substance and meaning. Is that too much to ask for?

Where were you?

2011-09-11T11:05:00.003-04:00

That seems to be the question heard in thousands of circles in thousands of places all around the world today. And as history has shown us, this is one of those moments that people alive during that time will always remember.

I was working for New York Life, of all places, in 2001. As most of my appointments were in the afternoon or evenings, I was home the morning of September Eleventh. After hearing the news of the first plane and seeing the growing news coverage, I called a friend who's birthday it was to ask him if he had heard what was happening. To my shock, as I was on the phone with him, I watched the second plane hit the second tower. As expected, all of my appointments cancelled and I spent the rest of the day in front of the television watching with horror.

This morning I watched the 9/11 Memorial Service in New York City, and more than once felt tears well up in eyes. It's still amazing to me after all these years how emotional the events of that day are to me. We live in such a desensitized culture that I wonder if people get the real magnitude that thousands of our fellow Americans died that day, and that over forty percent of those people were never found. Over a thousand families never got adequate closure. Over a thousand mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, children, never got to say goodbye. I thank God I have faith and hope, and even now I pray to God to comfort those people.

For awhile after 9/11, I struggled with my emotions. Should I care? Haven't we lost more people than that before this? Is this our fault? The reality I came to, is that everyone is going to deal with this their own way. Some cry, some get angry, some are indifferent. I guess all I have to be responsible for is my own feelings. And those feelings are still there for me. Good or bad, right or wrong, I'm still saddened at the loss our country was handed, and for the people who lost someone that day.

So where were you? What are your emotions ten years later?

Angel

2011-09-02T06:35:00.002-04:00

I met a girl last night. Her name is Angel. She looks to be in her mid twenties, but she doesn't know exactly how old she is as she came to America as a refuge from China when she was a little girl. She seems to have a crazy story hidden underneath but you'd never be able to tell behind her beautiful smiling face. She has a laugh that makes you laugh from the inside out and is a perfect fit for her name. Just talking to her made me so happy. It wasn't a romantic meeting or anything, in fact, I'll probably never see her again, but those ten minutes were the best part of my entire week. It was one of those brief encounters that sticks in your head and heart and makes life truly worth living.

Fashion

2011-08-26T11:23:00.002-04:00

I've wanted to write an intelligent post about fashion, clothes fashion to be precise, for a couple years now. But my decidedly lack of fashion sense has kept me from doing so as to not to sound, well, unintelligent. I spent the first three hours of my day today, as I made coffee, ate breakfast, read a book, and posted on CPS, wearing a pair of gym shorts and a stained polo shirt I had worn last night. And then I heard the sounds of my neighbor coming up his driveway. Knowing at some point we were going to talk today, I decided to put on a decent shirt and my only pair of blue jeans so I was a bit more presentable to guests. And that got me thinking about how people view fashion.

My first introduction to the fact that people cared about what they wore came in 1984 and the release of the Nike Air Jordon shoes. Only the richest kids in my fourth grade class had them, complete with their vibrant red and white design that was unlike any other footwear on the market before that time. I was insanely jealous and begged my parents to buy me a pair. As smart as my parents were, they declined. But then the strangest thing happened... I noticed a couple of the welfare kids showed up at school wearing the same shoes. How in the world could their parents afford such frivolous spending? Only when the harsh, childhood teasing begin, did I come to realize these welfare kids were wearing cheap, department store, Jordon knock-offs. Even though they looked remarkably similar, these cheaper shoes were in fact, fake. And the welfare kids paid for it dearly.

Sometime after that, when MC Hammer splashed on the scene with his flappy, parachute pants, my parents bought me a pair of leopard print ZUBAZ pants. As anyone who was alive during the mid-to-late-eighties knows, these were crazy, out-of-the-box legwear that sported wild colors and extraordinary shapes. I was the hit of the school. At least, that is, until they too, fell out of style.

Sometime during my mid high school years, after a devastating car accident that caused my parents to lose their business and my Dad his health, shoes once again became the status symbol for kids. With a wise, planned out argument, I convinced my money-starved parents to stop spending twenty dollars every few months for my shoes, and instead buy me a pair of eighty dollar Nike's with the promise I would make them last a whole year. And I did. I took care of those shoes like they were etched in gold and laced with silver strings. I did so well at making them last, that I was able to convince my parents of the same strategy the next year.

It was during that time when I would meet the guy who became my best friend for many years. His name was Joe, and despite his parents bouncing from job to job, he had them wrapped around his little finger. Over the course of two years, he bought so many clothes and shoes that he helped them run up a credit card bill to the tune of twenty thousand dollars. Joe spent money on clothes like, pardon the stereotype, a worldly woman buys shoes and purses. He would buy eight or ten new "outfits" for the start of the school year and then repeat the process for fall, winter, and spring. He would spend a thousand dollars to buy "outfits" for a summer vacation, and then another five hundred for a one day after prom. He bought a new "outfit" for each date he went on. I loved the guy and still consider him a good friend, but he was over the top.

Around my junior year of high school, with my feeble attempts to keep up with Joe's wardrobe, I made a conscious decision to create a, "style" for myself. I loathed Joe's need for new clothes, but could plainly see it made him popular with the ladies and was increasing his status with his peers. So I chose a simple, yet calculated mode of dress that would allow me to hang out with the cool kids, but also be cheap enough to maintain. I decided, along with my new Nike shoes, to always wear jeans (Levi's, to be exact,) and t-shirts. It was a no-frills style that ensured I stayed enough out of the radar to avoid schoolyard teasing, and was still cool enough to be neat and clean. And so my path towards style began.

Of course, my love of the Grunge movement eased its way into that, "style". I allowed my Levi's to get tattered and torn, my t-shirts shifted to musical references, and I even adopted a couple pieces of vintage, thrift store headwear that set me apart from the crowd. In hindsight, I was still horribly naive to what people thought, or maybe I just chose to ignore them, but whatever the reason, I was still a couple rungs short of getting to the top of the in-the-now style meter.

Then in 1995 I met Ell and her circle of friends. They had all embraced the thrift-store style of dress despite very few of them knowing it had been birthed from the Seattle music scene of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, and Alice in Chains, and their rebellion against the label driven mantra of the Eighties that demanded you wear a certain brand and design. To these new friends, it was just another season of fads that allowed them to keep up with the style of the day, only this time, for a much cheaper price tag. The on-purpose, low-key, label-less intentions of, "Grunge" had given way to a style of dress that screamed in the face of those in Seattle who loathed those kind of fashion statements. And since I was obviously oblivious to what trends were and why they were important, Ell soon had be wearing baggy jeans and untucking my shirt.

Skip ahead to 2001 and my entry into the professional world. At my first financial job I met a trainer named Gary who schooled me on the finer points of buying, and wearing suits. To that point in my life I had only one tie, and hadn't owned a pair of dress shoes or a belt in eight years. He was so incensed on fine dressing, one day he told me the way to tell if a man is trustworthy is, "... a firm handshake and shined shoes." I started to notice the seemingly mindless habits of the successful men around me. They would hang their suit jackets on wooden hangers in their cars and then put them on to walk into the office complex only to take them off as soon as they entered their offices. They had long, thin dress coats that seemed to serve no other purpose but to allow the image of professionalism when driving their cars or going into restaurants without their suit jackets on. They wore rubber shoe protectors to keep rain and snow off those perfectly shined shoes. And they never, heaven forbid, ever wore jeans, even when not at work. To me, it all seemed like pure vanity.

Slowly and surely, I began to see that vanity as projecting an image. I began to see the reasoning behind looking professional so as to calm and even encourage customers and clients to deposit their money with someone they felt they could trust. Saying that though, still belies in me a sense of false advertising and an image-driven culture. Even this morning, I felt the need to put on a shirt with a brand-name label on the chest, and to change into a nicer pair of pants so my neighbor felt he was dealing with someone of a higher caliber.

So what do I think of fashion as I sit here at age thirty six, supposedly wiser and more understanding? Still confused, admittedly. The friends I now have that I see as not having a, "style" still have a style. Even though many of them would never admit they care what they wear, they still only buy a certain flare of clothing and still only wear clothes that represent an image they are trying to project. I still have friends that only wear thrift-store buys, but they do so in a way that is stylish and up-to-date. In fact, the Grunge-driven image of the early Nineties has given way to name-brand, "vintage" stores and mail-order catalogs. And as fashion makes its ever-continuous loops, stores pop up to meet those demands while all the while the people that shop there and wear the clothes still claim, "I don't care about fashion; I wear whatever I want." C'mon, really? The simple fact of choosing what to wear each morning is as much about what other people think as it is about keeping up with trends. If it wasn't, we'd all be wearing white t-shirts. We care about how we look to other people. Period.

Despite what it may read like, none of this is in my head because I'm passing judgement. In fact, I'm often jealous of my friends who make looking good seem so easy and not thought-out. I still have very little fashion sense and often wear stripes with plaid. (Which used to drive Ell crazy. LOL!!!) I consider myself good at what I do and very professionally successful, despite the fact that I've not once ever shined my shoes. And I still hold to the, "jeans and t-shirt" style I set up at sixteen years old, except now those t-shirts are just as often polo shirts. I see the different reactions I get in the grocery store and restaurants when I'm wearing a dress shirt and tie, and while it still secretly annoys me we live in a world that puts worth in looks, I get why it matters.

So where does that leave me? Am I a sellout to style and the vanity that goes with it? Maybe. Am I still every day uncertain of what, "cool" actually means when it comes to clothes? Maybe. Am I still perplexed at the term, "suffer for fashion" despite claiming to now get what it means? Maybe. I don't know, I guess I never will. Maybe that has become my style. Whatever. I'm off to put on some plaid shorts with a striped shirt and go mingle with people who know more about these things than I do.

This day in history

2011-08-18T17:47:00.003-04:00

On this date in 1920, the Nineteenth Amendment was ratified by the United States. The Nineteenth Amendment guaranteed the right for all American women to vote. A little late, in my humble opinion, but a victory nonetheless.

Just a little history for y'all.

Birthday Flowers

2011-08-13T19:59:00.003-04:00

As the story goes, these were the first flowers my Mom saw on the way home from the hospital after I was born....

For years we would scan yards for these short-lived flowers that only appeared around my birthday, and it became something special I shared with my Mom. A few years ago, my Dad and Mom moved to Columbus and my Mom was pleasantly surprised to see some of these lilies growing in the yard of her new house. When they had died off, she dug out the bulbs and brought them to me. I planted them in a couple places and now I enjoy them every year when they come up, remembering my Mom and the extreme connection she has to those flowers and her first-born child.

Happy Birthday, Mom. (It's as much your day as it is mine.)

Hello, Perseid. How are you this year?

2011-08-07T19:41:00.002-04:00

This coming weekend, August 11-13, the Perseid Meteor Shower will once again fill the skies with streaks of light and fire. And once again I'll be throwing a party for the spectacle. Last year's party was a dismal failure, partly for the clouds that filled the sky but more-so for the overall sadness about Ell's absence and the fact that she was a mere ten minutes away but living with another guy. Most people are over that sadness (I know I am) so this year should be better.

So if you're within eyesight of this blog, you're invited to join me for the party. A pre-party will be on Thursday night the 11th, but the main party is Friday night the 12th. It starts at 6:30pm with a cookout (I'll have all the drinks and tableware so bring your own meat/sidedishes/snacks,) and after it gets dark we'll light the bonfire and lay back to watch the stars. If you want to spend the night you're welcome to, and I'll have breakfast Saturday morning for anyone who stayed or comes back. Also, this is an all-ages party, so please bring the kids.

Hope to see you there.

Google+

2011-08-03T00:10:00.002-04:00

Last night I joined my first, "social network" site, Google+. For now it's only an invite-only site, but I'm guessing that will change soon enough. The coolest part about it for me is the video chatting; much like Skype. Tonight I was in a, "circle" of guys from CPS (Christian Pipe Smokers forum) and it was very cool to meet these guys face-to-face I'd previously only known through the forum. I have a natural hatred for the social networking sites in general, but for some reason I joined up to this one. I may not stay forever, but so far I'm really enjoying what the site has to offer.

At the Bank

2011-07-28T21:53:00.003-04:00

My, "At the Bank" posts are usually something funny a stupid customer said. But tonight, I'm going to share a picture instead. I know you're not supposed to make fun of people, but this lady made me and my tellers laugh and laugh and laugh. She kept making this face and it was just too funny not to share. Enjoy:

Me, Dad, and our trucks

2011-07-17T21:00:00.002-04:00

Yesterday afternoon I watched as the new owner of my F-150 pickup truck drove it out of my driveway. It was a bittersweet moment for on the one hand, it was good to see something I didn't need or use be gone replacing it with cash in my pocket. On the other hand, the truck had originally been my Dad's; me buying it from him back in 2007. As I watched that black Ford truck leave my life, I had a few moments of memory recall about the history of me and my Dad, and the trucks that have bound us together throughout my life.

The first picture I ever remember seeing in my Mom's many photo albums, was a smiling me sitting behind the wheel of a 1954 Dodge pickup truck my Dad had affectionately nicknamed, "Hugger" for the bold orange paint he'd applied to it himself. Hugger was the vehicle that was honored to carry the Just Married! banner after my parents said their vows, and if my memory serves me correctly, which I doubt is possible at all, was also the vehicle that carried those same two people home from the hospital with their firstborn child, me. I am honored to now own that picture, and it is one of my treasured possessions.

When I was five years old, my Dad bought his first --and only-- brand new vehicle. It was a 1980 Datsun pickup with a snazzy fast engine connected to a standard five speed transmission. As a new vehicle, it held the honor of being parked on the concrete pad; except of course, when Dad would move it so I could play basketball. When I was eight years old, I asked Dad to move the truck so I could play said game. His response? "Move it yourself." He spent the next five minutes teaching a young boy the finer points of driving a stick shift. After assuring him I knew what I was doing, I settled into the driver's seat of the black pickup truck with him in the passenger seat, eased out the clutch, and backed it right into a pine tree; effectively killing half the evergreen.

My Dad was with me to cheer when I took and passed my Driver's Permit test. On the way home, he pulled onto a side road and turned off the 351W engine of the green Ford van he was driving. (I know it's not a truck, but it's close.) "You drive the rest of the way home," he said. After a few bumps and grinds, I got the hang of the Three on the Tree standard transmission, and we were off. That is, until we came to a STOP sign on a hill with a car behind us. I was certain I would roll back and wreck the new car that was resting too close to my bumper. Dad sat calmly beside me and smiled. "Just let out the clutch and floor it," were the only words out of the mouth of the man who usually never shut up. So I did just that, leaving two black marks all the way across the state highway I'd failed to look both ways before pulling across.

The summer I turned eighteen, Dad found another old Dodge pickup truck. This one was a 1948, rust covered, pile of junk with no doors or bed. After losing their business from the car accident that would (in the future) leave Dad to live in a wheelchair, my parents had barely enough money to pay their monthly bills. So when Dad asked me if he could borrow money to buy the hunk of metal, I agreed. After spending an hour getting it running, we strapped ropes across our waists for seatbelts, and drove the doorless, hoodless, bedless truck the two miles home, only to have it run out of gas a quarter mile from home. Skipping ahead, for the next ten years, we dreamed big dreams of fixing that truck up, but never did anything to it except push it from one side of the garage to the other on many occasions. When Dad was finally resigned to his wheeled existence, he gave me the truck before moving three hours away from my boyhood home.

When I was twenty, Dad bought a 1984 Ford Ranger in brown. When I gave my sister my car to take to college, as a thank you my Dad gave me the Ranger. A few months later, thinking I wanted a car instead of a truck, I made a deal with someone to trade the truck for a beater Thunderbird plus $400 which was to be given to Dad in payment for the truck. On the day before the trade was to be made, I slammed the heavy bumper of my work vehicle into the front of the Ranger. I went inside to inform Dad I may had possibly just lost him his $400. To my surprise, he shrugged his shoulders and went outside to drive it with me and make sure it was still road worthy. The anger I'd expected was replaced with forgiveness and compassion, and a smile.

After I'd married, Ell and I were on our way to dinner at a restaurant when we spied a green van that looked strikingly familiar. I immediately turned the car around and jotted down the digits on the windshield. The next day I called the number and met the man who owned the van. As I'd guessed, this was the man who had bought my Dad's work van years earlier. When I found that fact out, I plopped down the cash and bought that glorious van with the Three on the Tree. The next weekend, Ell and I drove it to Warren to surprise Dad with my buy. To say he was beaming would be an understatement. We immediately jumped in the front seats to relive our old glory days. As I drove it behind the church where they lived to turn it around, the brakes went out and we crashed down a hill, over a curb, and into a thankfully-empty parking lot. Since I had a whole parking lot to get it slowed down, I floored the big block engine and spun the giant van in a perfect donut in the loose gravel. We came to a stop beside my parent's front door, laughing and laughing and laughing. I never drove that van again, and I happily remember its last ride being shared by Dad and me.

Before I turned 32, my Dad had been confined to a wheelchair for almost six years. Before he'd lost the use of his legs, he'd bought his dream truck, a black, Ford F-150. It was a 1997, and for many years after they moved to Columbus, it was the transportation truck for Dad's wheelchair, with Mom behind the wheel. When it became too much for him to get in and out of, he sold it to me. For a couple years, Ell and I used it as our extra vehicle when one (or both) of our Volkswagens were broken down, and then in 2009, it became my everyday vehicle. It lived through its share of my driving turmoil, but never with my Dad in the other seat as all of our previous adventures.

And so as I watched the truck driving out of the driveway with someone other than me or my Dad behind the wheel, I cried. Those days are behind me; a casualty of growing up. When I myself am old and gray, and my Dad is long gone, I'll always remember our times in our trucks. I've never owned a truck that wasn't my Dad's first, and for that I am honored. My Dad and I are bound by so many other things more tangible than a truck, but it's those trucks that will always be our's and our's alone. When we get to Heaven, Dad, I want to go for a drive in Hugger, just for old time's sake. I love you, Dad. Thanks for the memories, and thanks for the trucks.

Some awesome news for my writing future

2011-07-11T20:00:00.003-04:00

For anyone following my writing stories, here's an update:

I ran a limited run of "First Editions" of my book and sold almost forty copies. I used it to pay for an actual editor to edit the book.

After getting it back, I spent a week reworking the manuscript and correcting all the things I swore I'd already fixed.

After that, I formatted the edit onto an electronic copy and sent it to the publisher.

I bought a copy and verified all the changes were entered, and then shared with the guys on CPS.

Then the following happened:

I received an email that my first book, Dwight's Farm, has been added to such eBook sites as Ibook, Itunes, and others. I signed up for the usual agreements to royalties, etc. and now I have to sit out the waiting period for it to be formatted which should take a couple weeks. I'm so dang excited about this. This means I may actually start to make some change for all my hard work.

When this becomes public, I'll put the link here. I've never had more than a passing thought I could make money from my writing, but things are starting to look that way. Pretty awesome news.

In the time being, the publishing company I'm using is running a sale through July 15th. 20% off any order. If you're interested, the link is here... http://www.lulu.com/?cid=071111_en_email_BIG305

Get it while it's hot.

The Fourth of July

2011-07-04T13:47:00.002-04:00

Even though I'm in the best emotional place I've been in a couple years, there are still random thoughts and memories that creep into my brain at unexpected times. July Fourth has always been my favorite holiday. Even though the history behind the holiday should mean more to me (and not that I don't care,) but the reason I love it so much is the fireworks. Love 'em. Always have, and always will.

For the first time since I was twenty years old, I won't be spending this, my favorite holiday, with Ell. Even though we were separated last year, she still came to a couple cookouts, and even went to the fireworks with me. But this year, I have no idea where she's at or who she'll be watching fireworks with. All I know for certain, is that it won't be with me.

Please don't read what I'm writing to insinuate that I'm sad. I'm not. In fact, I'm at perfect peace where I'm at in life. This has been a healing few months, and the fact that Ell won't be with me for the first time in sixteen years, doesn't change that. I'm not sad, or mad, or anything negative. I'm right where I want to be in life. That's refreshing.

All that said, it's been an interesting weekend sorting through memories, good and bad, of past Fourths. The fireworks will still be awesome, and my friends will still be amazing friends. There just won't be a hot redhead sitting next to me this year, that's all.

A ten mile hike

2011-07-02T19:14:00.004-04:00

In my ever-present preparation to hike the Appalachian Trail, I did a ten mile hike today. With the exception of sore feet due to crappy boots, it was a great hike. I wrote about it on my AT page, which can be linked here: http://www.trailjournals.com/unclesam
If you haven't checked out my AT site yet, please do. And don't forget to sign the guest book so I know you were there.

As a little tease, here's a picture from the trail I hiked. Yeah, the trail goes up that ladder.

Kids, Kids, everywhere I look

2011-06-26T00:01:00.002-04:00

Tonight I had a bunch of friends over for a cookout and bonfire. The three couples that came early enough for dinner, all had kids, and as I watched them cut food into tiny pieces and separate portions of chips, cookies, and watermelon onto small plates, I had what has affectionately become known in our circle as a, "Ginny Moment". Ginny Moments are pure, from the heart, revelations of positive feelings that are so strong they must be vocalized, usually followed by nervous laughter at the naked honesty. For my Ginny Moment, I shared with all of them my love for their parenting and how impressed I was with how my once-crazy friends had all become responsible adults.

That probably sounds funny coming out of the mouth of a guy closer to age forty every day, but I still don't always see myself as a so-called, adult. I'm sure the psychological explanation for that has something to do with the fact that I'm not a parent and as such have never had that mental switch that [good] parents go through that transitions them from carefree to careful. When you bring a child into the world, your mind switches from an, "anything goes" mentality to one more along the lines of a, "I need to protect another human life" reality. And being childless, I've never had that switch. But that being so, I am still fascinated and impressed when I see it happen to my friends.

This isn't the first time I've had this realization though. As I've talked about on ELEVEN before, the year Ell and I got married we were one of thirteen weddings. And the way all the weddings seemingly happened at the same time, a few years later the popping of belly buttons and birthing of kids did too. In fact, almost eight years ago, we'd had a party similar to this evening's and ended the night lining up eight small kids on our couch for a group picture. I was much younger then, and I remember being in awe that my friends who seemed as ill-equipped as I to be a parent, were, in fact, parents. What a mind boggle.

All the couples here tonight were married years after the summer of thirteen weddings, so likewise, their journey of parenthood started later. Even so, they are equally close friends, and watching them make the parenthood transition has been fascinating to watch. I may not want to be a parent, but I still love seeing the interplay of mind over matter. These friends are all still the same people they were pre-children, but their minds have gone through the switch and that has caused them to act and react in very different ways than just a few years previous.

And so tonight I did what I like to do best, people watch. I watched guys who used to jump over raging bonfires, redirect children away from getting within twenty feet of the one tonight. I watched ladies I'd seen drink so much alcohol they couldn't talk, try to get their two and three year old's to say the word, "drink" as they filled sippy cups with water. And I watched a game of cornhole stop cold because kids were running between the players, the same players I'd seen throw snowballs at each others' faces so hard they drew blood. It was definitely a turn of personalities; a turn for the better.

I am proud to be a part of these friends' lives, and proud to see the great parents they are becoming. I still don't want kids; I'll leave that for those braver than I. Likewise, I still give made respect to anyone who takes on that role. You have my support and my prayers and it is an honor to know you.

Having one of those "perfect evenings"

2011-06-22T21:35:00.003-04:00

I'm sitting at my kitchen table.
Hands still smell like dirt from my garden.
Smoking, and appreciating, a bowl of Haunted Bookshop in my Tyler Lane pipe.
Working on a pot of hot Lapsang Souchong tea.
Listening to a wonderful, calm, folk CD.
Enjoying the community of CPS gents.
Happy to be alive.
At peace in my life.

Stolen MeMe

2011-06-18T18:30:00.001-04:00

I don't know exactly how these things work, but I'm supposed to link to the person who created this MeMe. I don't know who that is, so I'll instead link to my friend Kimmy who's blog I actually stole it from. Same thing, right? Anyway, here goes...

21. Have you ever had a garage sale?
No. I helped Ell do a couple yard sales with her family, though.

22. What color is your cell phone?
Gray. Or is it spelled, grey?

23. What is the last alcoholic beverage you had?
I laughed when I read this one. Beer, of course.

24. Are you happy right now?
I really am. Really happy.

25. Who came over to your house last?
Last person at my house was my friend Chip. We had steaks, asparagus, steak fries, beer, and then smoked our pipes.

26. Do you drink beer?
LOL! Yes. I do. Often and always.

27. Have your brothers or sisters ever told you that you were adopted?
No. We never did that kind of thing.

28. What is your favorite key on your key chain?
What a great question! I like the shape of my work key, but not a fan of using it cuz it means I'm there.

29. What was the last movie you watched at home?
A River Runs Through It

30.What is in your pocket?
Nothing

31. Who introduced you to your bf/gf/husband/wife?
I don't have any of those things right now, but I wish someone would introduce me to that teacher lady I got my eye on.

32. Where do you hurt?
My left knee has been a little strained lately.

33. Has someone ever made you a build a bear?
Nope.

34. What’s something fun you did today?
I'm watching HIMYM Season 4 right now, which is pretty darn fun.

35. What is your favorite aisle at Target?
Not normally a Target shopper, but I like their vintage t-shirt aisle when I'm there.

36. When is your birthday?
August 12th

37. Is there anything hanging from your rear view mirror?
Nope.

38. How many states in the US have you been to?
Twenty

39. What kind of milk do you drink?
Organic, always

40. What are you going to do after this?
Make a giant salad, cuz I'm hungry

The ugly side of Sam

2011-06-15T23:38:00.003-04:00

Did you ever just wish something bad would happen so you could move on? Like pulling off a band-aid... it's gonna hurt like hell, but once it's done the path towards no more pain can begin. I don't know........ that's where I'm at tonight.

A quiet day

2011-06-12T20:25:00.003-04:00

I'm in the middle of watching the second season of a TV show Ell and I used to love. The theme of the second season centers around the post-breakup of a long term couple. It's interesting to watch the show and think about the similarities it has to this season of my life. One of the themes is being alone.

With the exception of the girl at the gas station this morning saying the words, "forty one dollars" and, "thanks" when I paid for a tank of gasoline and a newspaper, I haven't heard another person's voice all day. The best part about that? I loved it.

This is a fun time in my life. I went to bed at 3:30am, slept in until 8:00, made blueberry pancakes for breakfast, watched Charles Osgood, washed a pile of dishes, scrubbed years of grime from the stove, did the same to the bathroom (yikes), took a nap, had two giant salads with feta and red onion, picked strawberries from the garden, smoked a pipe, trimmed all the shrubs in my landscaping, and spent a couple hours on CPS. No rules. No expectations. No whatever. What an awesome day.

I'm not saying Ell was overbearing or demanding, the opposite couldn't be more true, what I'm saying is that I spent the day doing whatever the deuce I felt like doing without any outside interference. And I spent the day all alone. Both of which were cool and both made me happy. I'm really settling into the contentedness of where I'm at in life, even if it can look a little lonely to the outside world. Lonely is not always bad lonely, though. The lonely I'm at right now is definitely a good lonely. I feel good. And that feels good.

The Wedding Weekend

2011-06-05T19:23:00.003-04:00

Thursday
Ohio-Sam arrived in Fort Wayne around 5:30 pm, meeting Indiana-Lyndsay, Minnesota-Becky, and Nevada-Brad at Andrew & Lyndsay's house. Lyndsay and I left to get Andrew from his last day of work and by the time we got back to the house, much of Andrew & Lyndsay's family, as well as many of their friends, had come together for dinner and drinks. While it would be easy to just focus on the so-called, "excess", what I'll remember about that night is having a great time with great people.

Friday
We started the morning at the Art Museum for the wedding rehearsal. After that, Brad and I joined Andrew for brunch at Spyro's; just the three of us. We then spent the next four or five hours running all kinds of wedding errands. Of the whole weekend, those few hours were my favorite. I love those two guys and spending those few hours together, just us, were priceless. We eventually ended up back at the house and helped prepare food for the rehearsal dinner/picnic.

Andrew and I drove together to the park where a large crowd enjoyed great fellowship and great food. After that, a much smaller group of friends went back to the house where Mike and Ginny joined us. We spent the rest of the night playing Beirut and just hanging out, getting to know North Carolina-Evan's wonderful new lady friend, Erica. I left around 1 am to go check into the hotel, Mike and Ginny following soon after.

Saturday
A large group of Andrew's family, as well as Grant & Jess, Mike & Ginny, and me, roamed around downtown trying to find somewhere to eat breakfast. We finally ended up at a nature conservatory eating bagels. A few of us had previously had our hearts set on going to the, "Dash In", a great bar with twenty microbrew taps. My friends Jason, Grant, and I decided we weren't going to be denied, so we bellied up to the Dash In bar shortly after our bagel breakfast. Mike & Ginny joined us soon after.

After a couple good beers, I headed back to the hotel room to follow through on one of Lyndsay's special requests for the groomsmen. A half hour later, I had a killer mustache and part of my chin was looking at the first sunlight it had seen in eighteen years. Weird request, but all of us complied. And we all looked damn sexy. Pictures to follow.

I picked Andrew up at his house and the two of us headed to the museum, meeting the rest of the groomsmen to get dressed in our duds. I completed my outfit with a pair of '80's, yellow striped leg-warmers to match the yellow striped ties. I'm nothing if not classy in my color coordinating. After getting dressed, the guys headed outside into the 96 degree sun to do a half hour photo shoot with the photographers before heading back inside for the ceremony.

The wedding was beautiful. Andrew and Lyndsay are both beautiful people, both physically and spiritually, and are destined to have a beautiful marriage. It was great to see the two families come together as one, and it was an honor that they allowed me and other non-family to join in the union. The ceremony was followed by another photo session, this time with the whole wedding party and complete with bling. Everyone in the party was up for everything the photographers threw at us, and I'm really looking forward to seeing the pics.

A couple hours into the reception, I headed upstairs to plug in my dead cellphone. After it turned back on, I found desperate messages from my Mom that my Dad was fading fast. Knowing there was nothing I could do, the tears flowed freely. Some of my closest friends (including Pennsylvania-Kyle who diligently didn't leave my side the rest of the night) surrounded me with love and prayer. How could this be happening? But I knew one thing, if Dad truly was dying, or already dead, I was too far away to do anything or even be there for my family. Knowing that, I also knew I didn't want any of my personal heartache to crash the happiness that was going on downstairs. So I begged everyone in the room not to tell Andrew or Lyndsay, washed off my face, and went back to the party. An hour later, the same group of friends surrounded me again as I wept in my friend Grant's arms after finding out Dad was coming around.

Sunday
Despite going to bed at 2 am, I woke up at the call of my usual early-morning internal clock. I got a shower, packed my bags, and left the hotel room all without waking Kyle who was crashed on the bed. I met my friend Steve outside, and after putting my bags in the car, Steve and I walked to a coffee shop where he bought me a breakfast sandwich and some java. We hooked up with a few other friends before going back to the Hilton to check out. With those few people I consider to be my core friends, we enjoyed breakfast at Spyro's before stopping at the Wooden Nickel for driving music for the trip home.

I'm home now, laundry in the washer, cats fed, dinner had. Even though I had a great time in Fort Wayne, it's nice to be sitting in my Lay-Z-Boy after an exciting, albeit emotional (high and low), few days.

Andrew & Lyndsay, I raise my glass to you one more time. I send you all my love and wish you all the best.

The Weekend of Debaucery

2011-05-30T18:32:00.003-04:00

This weekend I threw a bachelor party for my friend, Andrew in Columbus, Ohio. At some point in the middle of the three days, a comment was made along the lines of: "When it would take too long to tell all the stories, you know it was a good party!" Well, it would take too long to tell all the stories. :)

I'm home, safe and sound, and mostly in one piece. I definitely need a detox before the wedding this coming weekend, but otherwise it was an amazing three days. If you weren't there, unfortunately it's one of those events where the stories need to stay with those involved, but I promise to tell you how the wedding goes.

Maybe..............

:)

The mentality of crowded concert goers

2011-05-19T20:29:00.003-04:00

Last night I went to a Manchester Orchestra concert in Columbus, Ohio. The venue was a nice indoor pavilion with a capacity of around three thousand people, and not a bad seat (reading: standing room only) in the house. And while the place was really nice, with a band as good as Manchester Orchestra, it was packed. Venue size withstanding, any time you book a band into an appropriately sized space, you create the phenomenon of the crowded concert goer.

While the three thousand person crowd at the LC Pavilion in Columbus doesn't hold a candle to the hundred thousand plus person crowd Ell and I were in when we saw Pearl Jam at Lollapalooza in 2007, the -- shoulder to shoulder, belly to back, someone's breath on the back of your neck while your breath presses onto the person's neck in front of you -- closeness is exactly the same. And with that closeness comes varied reactions to it.

I'm a big guy. I can own my personal space in a crowd with the best of them. I rarely get jostled, bumped, or pushed, and am good at making the impression I'll tear your limbs off if you even accidentally do any of those things to me. My friend Mike, on the other hand, while a lanky guy with a beard that makes him look like a terrorist-in-training, is way too friendly to inconvenience others by putting on the impression he's a jerk like I'm so adept at accomplishing. And so last night he had not one, not two, not three, (and if you guess four you'd also be wrong,) but five separate drunk women become his best friend. They hugged him, pushed him around, slammed up against him, and generally made themselves a huge nuisance to his existence. While I felt for him, I must say it was rather hilarious.

And then there was the cute little brunette named Allison who stood next to me. Unfortunately for Allison, a drunk girl I can't be sure wasn't also on X, hung on her back, flipped her hair into Allison's, and even rested her head on Allison's shoulder a couple times. During the break between bands, I offered to let Allison stand in front of me so that I could keep drunk X-girl from using her as a human pole dance. She accepted and thanked me with a beautiful smile. (Yeah, I'm that chivalrous.) But as crowds tend to do, people moved and positions shifted, and even though I was able to protect Allison's left side and back, drunk X-girl overtook her right side and more than one time banged her head into Allison's ponytail. Before half the set was over, Allison and her friend had to leave (studying for finals at Ohio State) but before leaving she told the girl off complete with a gesture that told her she was number one. Again, hilarious.

Which brings me to the mentality I titled this post about. Some people are fun. Some people are fans. And some people are simply inconsiderate and rude. They forget that everyone has paid the same price for the same ticket to see the same show, and it is not the right thing to do to deprive everyone around them the opportunity to enjoy that show. They talk through songs, they invade personal space, and they ignore basic human rules of manner and etiquette. It makes me want to scream, or at least consider suggesting they don't serve alcohol. On second thought, I take that one back. I just wish the concert-going-population would learn how to not all be a$$holes.

All that said, I am fully aware my desire for peace and love and mutual respect is not going to be found (as a general rule) in those kind of crowds. And so the reality of going to concerts and being a concert goer is that you need to be ready to take anything that's thrown (sometimes, literally) at you. It can suck or it can be awesome. The experience is yours so make it what you want, even if that means poking an elbow into a rib once or twice. Do it hard enough, and I guarantee that person won't crowd you. Either that, or they'll punch you in the throat.

But seriously, going to a concert means accepting the crowd you're going to experience, and know that seeing the band you like may mean dealing with some idiots in the process. If that's more than you think you can handle, you don't have the mind of a concert goer.

And for those wondering...... I got Allison's number and we're having breakfast in Columbus next Sunday morning. Oh yeah, that just happened. :)

Simple Math

2011-05-11T23:05:00.000-04:00

Andy Hull has one of the best voices I have, EVER, heard. His voice evokes actual emotions with his simple tones and fluctuations and can carry a song all by itself without any accompanying instruments. I can thank his masterful lyrics for getting me through more than one emotional hurdle this past year, and I can say with all honesty that he will probably be with me for whatever life throws at me in the future. This is the first single off his band's newest CD. While nothing can compare to hearing him sing the words, reading them shows off his amazing talent at songwriting. I highly, highly recommend checking him out.

Hunter eyes - I'm lost and hardly noticed - Slight goodbye - I want to rip
your lips off in my mouth - And even in my greatest moment doubt the
line between deceit and right now - Simple math, it's how our
bodies even got here - Sinful math, the ebb and flow to multiply
- What if I was wrong, and no one cared to mention? - What
if it was true, and all we thought was right was wrong? -
Simple math, the truth cannot be fractioned either way
- I imply - To mitigate the guilt, we could align a
perfectly constructed alibi to hush the violent guilt
that eats and never dies - In actual blame,
They called me once the dark divide -
Simple math, it's why our bodies even
lay here - Sinful math, the truth
cannot be fashioned - What if you
were crazy, would we have to listen
then? - What if we've been trying to get to
where we've always been? - What if I was
wrong, and started trying to fix it? - What if you
believed me? Everything is brilliant - What if I've
been trying to get to where I've always been? - What
if we've been trying to get to where we've always been?
- Simple math, believe me, all is brilliant - What if we've
been trying to kill the noise and silence. - What if I was
wrong, and you never questioned it? - What if it was true,
that all we thought was right, was wrong? - Simple math, the truth
cannot be fractioned - I imply I've got to get it back then

What was the best thing about your day, today?

2011-05-04T22:01:00.002-04:00

That was the question posed by my friend Dave tonight at our so-called, "church" community. He asked it as we sat down to dinner. The hosts for the evening, Steve and Vicki, shared a similar practice they've done with their kids as they were growing up. We worked our way around the table and everyone shared their best experience of the day. (Mine was making a trip to Tabetha's house during my lunch break to spend a little time with her.)

I was intrigued enough with the idea that when I got home I called my Dad and asked him the same question; unsure of what good experience he could possibly have had spending the day in a nursing home. I was surprised to hear him say he had two good experiences. First, my Mom visited with him for two and a half hours. Second, he sat up on the edge of his bed for the second time in a week; a big deal for someone who's been laying down for almost a year.

I love this question for a few reasons. I love what it does to a community by allowing everyone to experience in everyone else's pleasure. I love what it does to a personal psyche by continuing the good vibes of an individual moment in a sometimes too-long day. And I love the idea of focusing on one experience versus the easier route of focusing on the junk that usually overrides our thought processes.

So I ask each and every person reading this... What was the best thing about your day, today? Please answer it, as much for me and others as for yourself. Post your comment as anonymous if you'd rather remain so. But answer it. Please.

What was the best thing about your day, today?

Weight update

2011-04-27T19:05:00.003-04:00

I haven't shared anything about my weight lately so I thought I'd post an update on what's going on.

The lowest weight I reached was right before Christmas and was 285 pounds, which was a total of 46 pounds lost. To be completely honest, I reached that weight because I'd been sick and hadn't eaten much for four days. So while I was happy to be at that weight, it wasn't an honest weight I'd reached on my own efforts. After that, I entered into a pretty depressed state of mind for the couple months surrounding the divorce. During that time, I gained about 25-30 of those pounds back. After reaching that low weight, gaining those pounds back made me feel sick on top of being depressed.

When March hit and I gained my self-confidence back, I recommitted myself to being healthy. I've never been one to believe in diets, and I still don't, but I do know the proper way to eat. So I started eating right again and within a month lost all of that weight I'd gained back. To make things even better, over the past couple weeks I've been maintaining that weight of 285 even without working out. I have a couple weight goals I'd like to hit, so I know I need to start working out again to break the plateau. But it's a nice personal victory to know I can maintain this certain weight without doing anything different than just eating right.

My future goals are as follows...
275 by the wedding I'm in on June 4th
265 by my birthday on August 12th
250 by the end of the year

Knowing my body and continuing to eat right, I think I can blow those numbers away, but I'm keeping the goals at reasonable levels for my own sanity. 250 will still mean I'm a big guy, but much much healthier and definitely in a better place to hike the AT. That's all I can ask for.

Being alone. YAY!!!

2011-04-24T19:28:00.003-04:00

So if you're a regular here on Eleven, you know the mood swings and emotional ups&downs I've been through over the last year. I've have my good days, my bad days, and everything in between. And lucky you, you got to hear me talk about it. :) Yeah, that's right... a smiley face.

One thing that's been growing inside my brain this past year is the acceptance --even if reluctantly-- of the fact that my future will be one of being alone. Maybe forever, maybe not, who knows. But whichever one of those happens, I'm alone now. While that was a really hard emotion/truth to deal with late last year and into this one, it's growing on me. Still sad? Sure, but not horrific anymore. Excited? Not necessarily, but not afraid of being excited if it happens.

I've found a few things over the past few weeks (a video from my friend Chel, a feminist blog, new music, pictures, and some other things...) that have reminded me I have a rare opportunity most people don't get... I get to start over. For a long time --a LONG time-- the thought of that sucked. It still does on certain days, but now it's an optimistic thing on just as many days. An inspiring thought process, to be sure.

Some great benefits of this new brain process...
-Had four conversations (hour-plus each) on four consecutive nights this past week with good friends
-Had great dialogue with two old friends about God and what I think about Him these days
-Continued excitement for the Trail
-Dancing around my living room for over an hour just cuz I wanted to
-Listened to loud music ALL day today (not that Ell wasn't into that, but she usually had to study or sleep and I tried to respect those needs)
-Entertaining or forgetting the idea of new love at my own leisure
-Personal triumphs and failures are mine and only mine

If you're wondering, I think all of those are good things. And just saying that makes me laugh aloud. I guess today is one of those good days. :)

Butters

2011-04-21T11:46:00.003-04:00

So it's time to thin the herd. Ell was a cat lady... she loved them and they loved her. Over the course of our marriage she acquired quite a few. When she left we had four and unfortunately for them and for her, her new guy was allergic so she didn't take any of them with her. With me leaving next year, I need to find good homes for them before I go. The first one to go is my baby boy, Butters.

Here's his story... A couple summers ago we were having a bonfire and up walked this little blond kitten. He smelled like he'd been rolling around in garbage and every time he tried to get someone to pet him, they'd hold their nose and push him away. Well, I think he took it personally and left for about an hour. He came back all cleaned up and soon after he stole my heart. We called him a rather derogatory name for a few weeks, but after two separate incidents where he ate an entire stick of butter, he earned the name, Butters. (Any SouthPark fans will appreciate the funny.) We litterbox trained him, got him fixed, and got him his shots. Two years later he's still a great cat. He's absolutely amazing with even the most harsh kids. (My five year old nieces Emma, Aurora, and Esther-Faith have all carried him around in the most awkward positions and he's never complained or scratched them.) He's just as comfortable outside as inside the house, but definitely prefers inside during the winter and has become a great behind-the-knees sleeper at night if you're a side sleeper. He's also a great hunter if you have mice or rodents.

So here's the deal... He's free to a good home and comes with a bag of food and box of cat litter. I can even throw in a litterbox if you don't already have one. If you'd like to see him (or more pictures), send me a comment or an email.

Eleven for Jen

2011-04-14T20:43:00.003-04:00

A few months ago my friend Jen sent me an email about the origins of the term (and blog name), Eleven. I'm sure at one point I explained it, but I have no idea where or when. So here's another explanation.

My Grandpa used to use the term, "forty-eleven" to exaggeratedly (it's a word) describe a number either too large to be serious or on-purpose, too silly to be defined. At some point I shortened the word to, "eleven" and started using it myself in place of any number or answer I either didn't know the answer to or by just trying to be funny. It stuck and became known as my thing. It's funny after all these years I can still get people to believe me when I use it.

When I started blogging it only seemed right to name my blog, ELEVEN. And there's the story.

Something to think about in regards to war

2011-04-10T12:20:00.003-04:00

My Dad had an interesting way of explaining things when I was growing up. Most of it was made up in his normal exaggerating way, but even recognizing that as an adult those things still stick in my brain. One of those instances happened when I asked him (as a teenager) about the boy-to-girl ratio in my school class. The boys outnumbered the girls 2:1 and I asked him why. His answer was that God knew there would be a war and there would need to be more males to fight. While that seems silly, my senior year the first Persian Gulf war broke out. I saw the same numbers come to truth ten years later in the families of the youth group I led. And then the second Iraq war broke out. The reasoning broke down in the face of reality when only two of those males actually went into the service, but it still gave me pause.

Anyone else find this interesting?

Love is the ultimate risk

2011-04-05T22:47:00.002-04:00

This is an extremely difficult thing to write about. If I even want to publicly post it is still up in the air. But I've made a commitment to myself to stop caring what people think and live my own life so if you're reading this, I've chosen to share.

I met someone. A month and a half ago this small little blond thing walked into my life and immediately snatched my interest. For all the obvious reasons, I never thought I'd be in a place to look at another female while I still had so many regrets and emotional turmoil over losing Ell. Ell was my partner of fifteen years, my mate, the one person that got me and understood me better than anyone else in the world. I am and always have been a fucked up individual. My biggest fault is I think too much; I analyze every life situation down to the detail which causes me to not be able to allow myself to live in a moment or experience spontaneity or even love completely. (Which was part of what drove my last post.) But Ell got that and loved me anyway. When she left it gashed a hole in my heart and my self-esteem and hurt me deeper than I can probably ever wholly admit. So to allow myself to be interested in someone was something I never expected to let happen.

Despite all of my fears about rejection and the private issues I have with my looks and so much more, I found myself flirting with this girl. I found myself wanting to be around her. I found myself sending text message after text message which for the first time in my life caused me to surpass my allotted cell plan. Finding out she had a boyfriend only made me pursue harder and eventually put me in line to be there for her when her asshole boyfriend got caught cheating. My time to take the next step had arrived.

Over the course of a couple weeks I found myself growing attracted to this hundred pound blond girl I aged by eleven years. (A coincidence in numerology, but cool nonetheless.) Neither of us would admit our feelings as being more than platonic, but we both knew it was something else. And on a seemingly normal Wednesday night exactly one month after our acquaintance began, those hidden feelings came to the surface.

With a half-drunk text she asked me to come crash her ladies evening. I quickly answered and twenty minutes later found myself beside her at a restaurant and then driving her to the next bar on their agenda. A few drinks more and a lot of karaoke songs later, she slid her arm around me and kissed me on the cheek. It was the largest rush of blood I'd felt course through my body in way-too-many years. That single kiss and simple arm slide turned into a full hug and the two of us kissing right there at the bar; her tongue flipping ever so gently across my lips and her tiny arms intertwined through mine.

I took her to her house and she led me to her bedroom. For the next two hours I did everything I could to talk myself out of experiencing everything the night had to offer. With better judgement as well as anger at my parents for being in my head and not allowing me to be a gentleman all on my own merits, I left without having sex with this woman who wanted me just to want me. No pretenses, no rules, just intense and alive attraction.

I picked her up the next day and all of my fears were realized as the analytical reality of life set in that alcohol has a tendency to throw aside in its freedom of unmasking. Her pure feelings were that she wanted to be with me but the rules of life as society dictates them told her it didn't make sense. The fact that I'm leaving in a year, our age difference, and a whole list of other things just didn't make sense to the world and being children of the world as we are, she had to follow those rules. We would only get one more night together over the next couple weeks and while that night found us just holding each other on her couch, it was heartbreaking to know our time together was coming to a close.

And so Sunday morning found us on the phone having the break-up conversation. She just couldn't get over the hurdles we would have to jump, and I couldn't argue them away either. My relationship with this beautiful girl who had so much to offer was over almost as fast as it had begun. I can't sit here tonight and admit I thought it was ever going to last. I knew it wouldn't. But being hurt as deeply as Ell had hurt me made me want this new relationship to work so much I was willing to ignore reality and push ahead. And once again, I'm left being the victim of rejection and aloneness. Frankly, it was another slap in the face I'm not sure will ever go away. I'll probably never truly get over Ell, and as it feels right now, I'll probably never get over being walked away from so soon again.

The silver lining in all of this is that this girl with the prettiest eyes I've ever seen, helped me get over feeling worthless. The --admittedly-- superficial reality is that I'm a 35 year old, overweight guy with no money in the bank and not much to speak of in the material world. I have a wealth of friends, but even though that is undeniable, as my best friend Mike put it, friends, true friends, have a somewhat obligatory desire to be there for a friend who's hurting. This girl had none of those obligations. She wanted to be around me, she respected me, and she was attracted to me simply because she saw worth in me. I needed that. I needed one person who had no emotional attachment to me or my life with Ell, to want me for me. And even though that was short-lived and ruined by worldly pressures, it was still as true as anything so purely true can be.

All that said, once again I'm alone in a house I don't want to be in. I'm once again looking forward to escaping into the woods in hopes of completing something since everything else in my life has never seen completion. And I'm sad. I'm sad I wasn't enough. Enough for Ell, enough for my new lady friend, enough for anyone to want to be with me tonight; right now. That sucks. That hurts. That makes me sad. I think I'm becoming a better man though all of this, but that doesn't take away the basic human need for a companion. I just can't help wanting someone to want to be with me. As Andy Hull of Manchester Orchestra and Right Away My Captain said in one of his songs, "I could use a friend to say they love me." That isn't a cry for anyone, cyber or real, to tell me that. I want a woman to tell me that. I'm just being honest here. I do have amazing friends, but that can never replace the deepest need I have in this moment.

I want to apologize if this is too open for you. Love is the ultimate risk. I put myself out there and was rejected and that makes me the man who sat down to write this tonight. Whether what I had with this lady was right or wrong, heck even if the person was someone else, I'm still here alone and that hurts so damn much. That's me right now. That's where I'm at.

What if?

2011-04-03T18:24:00.009-04:00

I grew up with a sheltered life; sometimes I think too sheltered. My parents meant good, but they shielded my eyes from many things that I now have to learn about the hard way. I'm never going to be a parent, so I can't imagine how difficult the decisions my parents had to make must have been in order to keep me and my sisters safe, to protect us from the evils of the world, and most importantly to raise us with the best set of morals they felt we could have. But none of those things take away from the fact that life is shitty and dealing with the shit as it happens is how people grow.

Please don't take this as a slam on my parents. I had great parents growing up. They chose to cover my ears from the worldly influence of music and movies that they felt sought to undermine decent Christian values. They chose to avert my eyes from what they saw as the growing sexual addiction of the nation and instead show me what true love between a man and woman was. And they chose to block all of my senses that would be affected by their version of financial ruin except to allow me to experience small blessings and the giving of others. For those things I am very thankful because they showed they loved me and wanted what they thought was best for me.

And yet I sit here in an empty house wondering what I missed. I went to a movie theatre twice before I graduated from high school. I never got to see Pearl Jam live at the House of Blues in front of only a hundred people or at the first Lollapalooza in front of only a thousand. And outside of material things, I never really learned how to save money; only to spend it fast when it shows up in case I don't make anymore. I also never learned how to argue without yelling or emotional sweeping of the legs. To this day my blood pressure goes up at the beginning of a disagreement for fear I won't be able to get in the first scathing remark or throw the first intellectual curveball before the other person and by missing those key moments lose all credibility or edge in the argument.

One of the things I cling to in reference to human behavior is that once we leave home, it's our responsibility to make our own way. If we don't like how we were raised or the teaching we grew up under or the bad habits we saw day to day, then it's on us to change those things. And yet I loom onto the age of 36 and I still can't get a real grasp on nurture versus nature or figure out how to maneuver the two into the life I want to live. Are any of those things in the last paragraph really all that important? To me they are. Those are things I missed out on and hold as true regrets. We're supposed to make our paths in life but I wasn't allowed out of the house to find where the paths even started.

Again, none of this is a slam on my parents in the way you think (or it might read) it is. I just sit here scared that when life's real hardships come my way I won't have the resources to deal with them.

But outside of where I see lacking on the part of my parents, I also see a distinct disadvantage in growing up in a small town surrounded by other small towns surrounded by the mentality of small town America. Be honest, how many of you reading this know more people stuck in the cycle of life than those chasing dreams? And of those people in the first category, how many do you know watch with an envious eye the second group? Be honest. I'm not saying that being in the cycle isn't fulfilling or enjoyable to some, but to the majority it certainly isn't adventurous and it certainly isn't the thing people mention on their deathbed when asked the deep questions. People want to feel like they can enjoy life, like it was worth living. No one ever wants to feel trapped. When the use of money and so-called life make slaves of its users, that's never enjoyable for those in it. And growing up thinking it's wrong to venture too far from the folds of your community, or at least outside of where the community mindset is, keeps way too many people from experiencing all the world has to offer.

Why the whining, Sam? What's your point? What are you searching for that you feel you've been slighted?

I don't know. Really. I just had the overwhelming sense of oppression today. I had the heaviness on my heart that I've wasted a lot of years not pursuing things I wanted because it wasn't rational or holy or common-sensical. Did I miss out on an interesting career by not going to drum school? Did I miss out on learning how to understand women by rushing into marriage along the suggestions of those pushing, "it's time you settled down." (Not even speaking of what I asked of the twenty year old girl who said yes to me.) And on a spiritual level, did I ignore God's calling(s) by succumbing to the pressure of the, "get a haircut and get a real job" crowd? I guess I'll never know the answers now.

I fully realize there's no greater place to point the finger of blame in all of this except at me. I didn't have to do any of those things if I didn't want to. I get that. And I guess that's what is most painful. As cliche as it is, we really truly only get one life to live. Just one. No do-overs. When it's done it's done. And I can't help thinking I wasted some of my best years.

Am I completely sad and down? Absolutely, absolutely, absolutely not. I have had some great adventures. I have some awesome stories to tell. And best of all, I've been blessed with some great friends. Please know I'm not sitting here tonight with a load of regrets. But I refuse to not ask the question, "what if?" about my life. I refuse to get comfortable with those things and not want more. I live in a country great enough to allow me to want and chase more. I refuse to get complacent and settled into the cycle. I can't or regrets will be my story. I'm tired of having my eyes and ears and every other sense covered. I'm tired of feeling rejection for the things I want out of life.

So what are you going to do about it, Sam? Are you still going to sit around and be bullied into a life you feel is sheltering and confining? Are you still going to blame everyone and everything around you for your shortcomings? Or are you going to get up and do something about it? I wish I knew. I wish I had the balls to ask, "What if?" Maybe I do. Maybe I do.

Holy sports show, Batman

2011-04-02T17:39:00.002-04:00

I worked out in the garden for a few hours this afternoon and just came inside to check out the pre-game show for the men's Final Four college basketball game. But besides that, what I found was sports on almost every TV channel, and I don't even have cable! There was a PGA golf event, professional ladies tennis, Yankees baseball game, a college football flashback on last season, NASCAR, and a girls high school basketball game on the local access channel. If you like sports, turn on your TV right now.

Trail Journals setup

2011-03-26T21:50:00.003-04:00

I took another step in preparing for my Appalachian Trail thru-hike. A few weeks ago I logged onto Trailjournals.com and set up my profile. Trailjournals.com is the consumate hiking page with links to photo's, gear lists, AT links, and the place for my trail journals as I post them. My website is almost finished and once my friend helps me get it online, I'll have a direct link to my trailjournals page on that website (as well as ELEVEN). If you're interested in logging on now and seeing my trailjournals page, follow the link HERE. If you can't use the link and need to copy and paste, the address is www.trailjournals.com/unclesam

As many of you know, thru-hikers usually go my trail names when on the trail. Sometimes the person chooses their own name and sometimes the trail names the hiker. I lean towards the latter as more authentic, but for now I'm going by the name, Uncle Sam. I have some pretty awesome nephews and nieces, and many people think my career makes me, "The Man", so I figured Uncle Sam was a good trail name for now.

If any of this interests you, follow the link and sign into my guest book.

From one end to the other

2011-03-20T12:35:00.005-04:00

What a crazy wild ride these last two months have been. I think I've had every emotional swing known to man and then maybe a few others that numbed me to the core due to their undefinable characteristics. And the strangest part is that in the moment I'm in right now, I can see that all of those were necessary to heal. Let me explain...

A little less than two months ago I could still say I was married. And with that nomenclature, part of me was still holding on to some faint hope that Ell was going to snap out of whatever messed up (in my opinion) mental capacity she was in and see what she was missing. Even when I forced myself to see the truth that she had moved on, my subconcious was still holding on tightly. And then the court day arrived. Ell flew in a few days early, we went through the house one more time to see what she wanted, we had lunch twice and tried to talk about our new existences, and then it was over. I cried deeply that day out of a sense of utter loss. But then the strangest thing happened after I'd cried the whole way home, I stopped crying. I didn't cry again for almost a whole month.

Then my, "Black Gives Way To Blue" night. That song flooded my emotions with the reality of where I was like nothing else before that point. In hindsight, that was a breaking point for me. That was that, "rock bottom" place so many people talk about in unhealthy, harmful life situations. I was preparing for a party that had never been thrown by me any more than I could say it had been thrown by the house it was held in. I had always been a glorified spectator to the immense work and planning that Ell did every year to make the Jamaican Party a success. And here I was pretending I had a clue what it really took to happen. All I could do was sweep the floors and build a hot fire. Everyone I've spoken to or who has seen pictures calls it the most subdued party ever. And it was. What was can never be again and while many lauded me as brave for throwing it, that party shouldn't have happened. And so as I prepared for a party I didn't want to have, the, "Black night happened. I wanted more than anything for Ell to walk in that door that night --and the night of the party-- and when she didn't it shut down everything for me. I wasn't sad. I wasn't mad. I wasn't happy, either. I just was. I wanted to be all those things but they just never happened. And it's easy to see now, that was a moment I needed to experience in its purest sense. I needed to feel nothing. I needed to have a blank slate or I was never going to move on, let alone heal.

That nothingness has caused March to be the rebirth of Sam.

The first thing I noticed was that I now fully realize the love of my good friends. They were always there for me and I knew they cared, but I hadn't been able to accept their love because they wanted what was best for me even when I was fighting it. Now that honesty and reality are one-in-the-same again, I am so greatful for each and every one of them. If you are one of those people, and you know who you are, thank you. On the same note, I've also realized I have some bad friends in my life. These were the friends that told me what I wanted to hear, let me complain and whine without slapping me, and who did everything they could to make me hate Ell. None of that was ever what I needed and it certainly wasn't healthy. I'm not sure how to deal with these people right now, but I can already see a distance between us since March began. I have but one life and as harsh as it sounds, people like that aren't worth having in it.

The second thing I noticed is that I'm worth something. It's no shocking surprise that having someone leave, someone who knows you better than anyone else in the world, leaves in its wake a gashing hole of rejection and worthlessness. In my mind I was damaged goods; and certainly not able to be wanted. What a lie! All it takes is one new friend to put their arms around you and ask you to put their arms around them. That's all it takes. That happened to me. I met a friend who wants nothing else but to be around me. There's no pretenses or expectations, just something that is; something that just fits because I am, after all, worthy of being around.

I write all of this at the extreme risk that readers will think me desperate, sad, broken, selfish, in denial, or other just as descriptive adjectives. Worse, I know that writing all of this carries with it a risk that people will think my marriage wasn't good or that Ell and I didn't really have something all that special. How could we have if I'm so easily moving on, right? The reality of hitting rock bottom quickly takes those things away, though. Sure, I can plainly see how I had fit into every one of those adjectives at one point or another throughout this journey, but I needed to go through them to see that they weren't me. They're no longer me and never will be again. Going through the Jamaican Party without a single tear was that point for me. It was my point of no turning back. It was my first step towards being whole again. And that spilled into March.

Last Sunday I got home around 6:30 in the evening, and all at once I hated having anything in the house that was Ell's. It wasn't a hate driven by anger, but rather a sense of displacement. How could I live in a house with anything that wasn't mine? I didn't go to my friend's house and grab their couch, or pictures, or dishes, and take them back to my house; that's just crazy. So why was I living in a house with her stuff all through it? That was just as crazy to me. With a smile on my face, I spent an hour taking everything of her's out of my living room and putting it in a box. As the week went on, I emptied the kitchen, then the bathroom, the spare bedroom, and finally the shelf in my bedroom that still held stuff I was supposed to take to her Mom's house. That box will be gone from my house this week and I plan to hold a traditional, Native American smudging of the house, wiping her presence from it. Again, I say none of this out of any, any, anger. I'm Sam again. I'm no longer part of a team or a couple or anything else that doesn't define me as just me. As such, I need to have everything be mine in the place that I call home.

As I said, I get that reading this may sway your opinion of me or my situation. If you've been following this journey (at least the part of the journey I shared publicly), I get that you may also need time to formulate your emotions. But I can no longer wait around for anything except what benefits me. And so I have to move on with Sam. There's no one else here I have to be responsible for. That's my reality.

And so I want end by sharing this... I'm happy. I'm really happy. That's a far stretch on the emotional scale from where I was only two months ago, and that's so crazy to me. Two months ago I would never have envisioned this. And right now I can't envision why it took me so long to get here. I missed being happy. Being happy feels good.

Beth

2011-03-19T18:29:00.003-04:00

I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Tabetha. This picture makes me laugh. :)

Happy St. Patrick's Day

2011-03-17T16:39:00.003-04:00

It's official... I've had more beer than food over the last 24 hours. And I'm not done yet as tonight is Beer School at my house. Thank goodness for my Irish constitution.

It started last night when my new friend Beth called and asked me to come crash her ladies night at a local Mexican restaurant. After making fun of her for eating Mexican food so close to Irish day, I changed clothes and went to meet her. When I got to the restaurant I wasn't hungry, so instead I had a 32 ounce Dos Equis. Then the party moved to a karaoke bar where I had four Killian's beers while Beth proceeded to take over the microphone no matter who's turn it was. After more drinking (and other fun not to be mentioned on the www) I finally made it to bed at 3am.

I got up at 8am and welcomed the, "hair of the dog" with a Great Lakes Brewery Conway's Irish Ale. After showering I drove back to Salem and picked Beth up. We headed to Ohio's largest St. Patrick's Day party at O'Donald's Irish Pub where I switched to Guinness with my Reuben sandwich (my first and only food of the day). Then we drove to another bar in Boardman, Ohio and I went back to Killian's for a couple hours.

So if you're keeping track, it's almost 5pm now and according to my math I'm well over a 4:1 ration of beer to food. Isn't this a great day? Green clothes everywhere you look, lots and lots of good beer, good friends, and a day off work with pay. Oh yeah. If you haven't yet, go get your drink on, and a Happy St. Patrick's Day to all within sight of this post.

Announcements, Announcements, Annowwwwwncements

2011-03-06T11:47:00.002-05:00

In this season of change I'm living through, I decided it was time I got around to doing a few things on my, "Life List". The biggest thing on that list, and the one that would cause the most radical change to what my current situation looks like, is my dream of thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. Well folks, I'm doing it.

With a drop-dead-date of St. Patrick's Day next year, 03/17/2012, I'll be hiking the AT. It's easy to say that and another thing altogether to make it happen. Here's a few of the major things that are slated to happen/change in anticipation of this adventure...

Selling the house
Selling/Gifting most of my possessions
Saving a bunch of money
Quitting my job
Losing at least 50 more pounds

Most of those things "must" happen before the dream can be realized, but there's a bit of wiggle room built into every item. Wiggle room or not, this is huge deal and I'm really excited. This past year hasn't been my finest hour, and while this isn't an attempt to compensate for that, it is something that will move me into the next stage of my life. I've wanted this for a long time, and now seems like the best time to pursue it.

My family and friends have had a lot of questions (and probably have many more), but for the most part have been supportive. I don't need their support but it's nice to have it versus opposition.

I'm in the process of setting up my own website so that people can follow me on the AT using trail journals, as well as still be able to follow ELEVEN. I think I'll include a link to buy my book and a few other fun things as well. I see the website being a one-stop-shop for all things Sam. When I get it up I'll let you know. Outside of that, let the questions begin. What do you want to know about this announcement? Questions... Concerns... whatever... I'll answer anything you ask.

Charlie Sheen

2011-03-02T21:26:00.003-05:00

A little brevity...

All week I've been watching the morning news, a next-to-never event for me. Monday morning I awoke early and decided to relax in my Lay-Z-Boy before going to work. I was fortunate enough to catch the end of The Morning Show's interview with Charlie Sheen. Then Tuesday I caught his reaction interview and the introduction of his live-in girlfriends, the Goddesses, as he calls them. This morning I found myself turning on the TV hoping to catch another peak at this crazy individual and caught his live interview after his children had been taken from him in the wee hours of the morning.

As only my close friends know (and now the whole www), I'm a closet celebrity news junkie. That said, to say I'm hooked with the Charlie Sheen story would be an uber understatement.

Alright, let's break this down. The guy is obviously off his rocker. Why, is the question everyone (including those claiming not to care) seems to have an opinion about. Whether it's a side effect of his drug detox, the true self coming out from the same effects, or something else completely, the truth is the guy is a wired out individual. The last three days have shown that clearly. So why is he going so completely off the edge? Publicity? Maybe. Frustration? Maybe. Mental break? Maybe. But whatever it is, people are interested in following the downward spiral. Charlie started a Twitter account yesterday and he already has over 800,000 followers. In one day!

I don't know how this is going to play out or what will happen next, but I'm enjoying the crazy ride. Anyone else have any opinions or thoughts?

Black gives way to blue

2011-02-24T17:20:00.003-05:00

I don't want to feel no more
It's easier to keep falling
Imitations are pale
Emptiness.... all

tomorrow's
Haunted by your ghost

Lay down, black gives way to blue
Lay down, I'll remember you

Fading out by design
Consciously avoiding changes
Curtain's drawn now it's done
Silencing all

tomorrow's
Forcing a goodbye

Lay down, black gives way to blue
Lay down, I'll remember you

Jerry Cantrell

I'm horribly broken today.
Crying uncontrollably as I type this.
But she's gone. She's really gone.
Every tear soaked night before this has been with some sort of vain hope she would come back.
That she would miss me.

That one hurt.

I just miss her so much.
So very much.
But she's gone from me.
Gone.
Really gone.

I've been listening to this song on repeat for twenty minutes now. Sitting in a chair in front of the speaker in the corner of a house that's way too big for me. With her, it seemed too small. She filled the place with smiles and laughter and happiness. Now it's just a house. An empty house I almost can't stand to live in without her. I looked across the living room towards the back door wanting more than anything else in life for her to walk in it and across the room to me.

I may never see her again.
Ever.
Oh, this hurts so bad.

I've spent almost a week doing work she would have done in a day. I'm planning a party that shouldn't be happening without her. It just shouldn't. I really wanted to pull this thing off as some sort of way for all of us to move on. Dammit, I don't want to move on. I want her here. I want her here. I want her here.
I'm not sure I can do this.

Why did she have to leave?
Why couldn't she still want me?
Why didn't she walk through that door when I looked for her?
Why can't she give me a chance to make her happy?
Why can't I hear her voice calling my name again?

I've tried, really tried to put on a good face these past few weeks. At work, with friends, at home. I've only cried in front of someone once and even then I stopped before I lost control. I don't want to pretend anymore. I just want her back. I don't care who knows I'm not okay. I'm not okay with any of this. This is not what I want. What I want is her. That's all. Nothing else.

I can't do this.
I just can't do this.
I can't handle this pain.
My world is done.
This hurts so much.

It's that time of year

2011-02-23T00:16:00.004-05:00

As always, February in the log house on the windy hill brings the annual Jamaican Party. In the past thirteen years, the core of the party was the authentic Jamaican food Ell would create over almost a week of preparation. Without her here I knew I wouldn't be able to pull off the same amazing creations she did. In addition to that, I wrestled with the fact that having the party that had always been our gift to our friends might insinuate some kind of, "taking sides" which I didn't want to happen. But at the advice of a friend who encouraged me that having the party would allow people the opportunity to support, "me" and wouldn't do any harm to relationships they might have with Ell, I decided to go forward with the party. In addition, he suggested that support could easily be in the form of food. And so I sent out invitations and a menu and a bunch of people signed up for food they would make. Sure, it won't be the same party, but it will still be fun. And I'm really excited to see what others making the food will add to the fun.

One tradition that remains in place is that the Red Stripe will be flowing with immensity. Today I picked up the special-ordered car load of beer and adding to it the additional bottles of alcohol that had dwindled in the alcohol cabinet. Ahhhhh, I do love this time of year when little squat bottles of beer make the heart happy.

If you didn't get an invite, I either didn't have your address or didn't think you'd come. You decide which one is you, and then get dressed up in your best Jamaican clothes and be at my house Saturday night.

Words for tomorrow

2011-02-10T22:37:00.003-05:00

I know it can be easy to overstay my welcome in regards to posts about my life without Ell. Knowing that line may be close for some of Eleven's readers, I still risk crossing it by sharing one more post. Here are some, "words" I've received from people as intentions of encouragement. It's amazing how cliche some of them are while still being exactly what I needed when I received them.

--All things old shall be made new.

--Isaiah 43:18-19

18. Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.

19. See I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland.

--Keep looking forward - new adventures lie ahead.

--Shape the future by dealing with the present.

At the Bank

2011-02-06T13:10:00.002-05:00

Like usual, this, At the Bank post carries a bit of humor. But it also shows a glaring example of how public my job is and how invasive it can be to my private life.

Situation... guy comes into my office to renew a CD. He's a bit of an odd-bird lacking some basic social skills; close talker, akward body language, too-careful talking about his not-careful-enough mental processes... an overall creepy guy. I welcome him into my office and offer him a seat across from me. Instead of sitting down he leans across my desk and stares at my business card for a full ten seconds; a really long silence as I sit and stare at him. Here is the conversation that followed:

Him: "Is that you?"
Me: "The name on my business card?"
Him: silent stare
Me: "Yes. That's me."
Him: "Were you in the newspaper yesterday?"
Me (at a loss): "I'm not sure. Did you see me in the newspaper?"
Him: "Are you the same Sam xxxxxx who just had his divorce or dissolution finalized?"
Me (almost speechless at why this guy remembers stuff like that and starting to wonder if he's some creepy stalker): "Well, yes; you saw that in the paper?"
Him: "Yes."
Me: "Then yes, I guess I was in the paper yesterday."
Him: "That's what I thought," and without even taking a breath, "so what are your CD rates?"

Strange conversation, to say the least. What a weirdo.

It's over

2011-01-28T13:29:00.002-05:00

1/26/11 10:30pm

I wonder when it will end.
I wonder when I won't feel this way.

When everything I do and say and act out aren't with the underlying thought that Laura will somehow see what she's missing. That she'll always be in my life and that it is my goal to impress her, to amaze her, to make her laugh, or just softly smile. I wonder when I'll stop having those unspoken thoughts that all I do is for her, about her, because of her, and with her in mind.

I wonder how long it will be without seeing her face to forget how she smiles.
I wonder how long it will be without hearing her voice to forget what it sounds like.
I wonder how long it will be without living my life with her to remember I have my own.

Today Ell and I walked out of the courthouse with our marriage dissolved; the same courthouse we walked into almost a decade-and-a-half ago with our marriage certificate in hand. I drove her back to her Mom's house in a Volkswagen, the same kind of car we were in as we pulled away from the church where we were married. I dropped her off at her Mom's house where barely a hundred yards away I had picked her up for our first date. We hugged, we kissed our final kiss, and we exchanged our final, "I love you"'s. I cried the entire drive home. My life with my beautiful soul mate is now over.

the cozy log home

2011-01-22T09:47:00.004-05:00

The thermometer read zero as I stepped outside into the intense, cold winter sun this morning. While far from the coldest winter temperatures I've encountered living in this log house, zero still carries with it an intense sharpness that takes your breath away and causes all of your body to hug close to itself. The softness of the snowfall the other night has given way to a whiteness that is hard and loud under my boots. There's no joy in zero degree snow and is why I often refer to winter as painful.

But as it is, I can't hide from the cold that feels to actually freeze my skin to my bones. There will be no hiding beside the warmth of my fire or the purr of my cats; at least not until later in the evening when the moon replaces the sun as the sky's light source. For today brings the weekly chore of cutting enough firewood to last me through the week ahead. I've learned how to work through the frozen fingers and aching joints caused by cold winds and frozen clothes, and for almost a month now have been able to store up more than just the next week's requirement of wood. In fact, one or two more weekends and I'll have cut, split, and stacked enough wood to last me through the rest of the winter. Each weekend I get further ahead and by the time February causes a flip of the calendar page, my weekends will once again be my own.

Having just finished, The Long Winter, and marvelling at the trials and ingenuity of the Ingalls family to survive an October-April winter without normal food or heat, I thought I'd share some of the trying times our log house has caused Ell and I over the twelve winters we called it our home.

We moved into our log home in November of 1998. When we moved our meager belongings into the spacious house, only four of the gaping spaces between the logs held insulation and only three of those were filled with the barrier of chinking needed to block out the wind and weather. The downstairs holes where windows should be held only panes of glass without trim, and those only tacked into place with small finish nails. A decades-old furnace sat in the basement and barely pumped out heat through no more than five vents to heat the living room, kitchen, and bathroom; none of which able to force warm air toward the gravity vents that opened into the second floor. The door leading to the side yard was thin wood and held an even thinner pane of glass, that is until our Great Dane broke it out with one try. We wrapped the windows and door in plastic I stole from where I worked, and tried to make it through a cold, icy winter. We spent much of the winter sleeping on the pullout sofa bed in the living room as the upstairs never got above forty degrees, making a full night's sleep almost impossible. Even before the two most recent natural gas rate increases, we spent between $400 and $500 a month on our heating bill. Needless to say we needed a solution.

The next October found my Dad and I lining the 180 year old brick chimney with stainless steel chimney lining which opened into the living room where we had bought a brand new woodburning stove. Every Saturday that next winter I stuffed insulation into every gap between the logs and before the cold weather was over I had chinked the entire downstairs living area. That, combined with the wood fire, was keeping us warmer than any point of the previous winter, but even with the addition of new windows, doors, a porch, and newly built bedrooms upstairs, our future winter woes weren't over.

Normal wells are dug down deep into the ground with only a small pipe sticking up in the yard to notify the lawn mower where it was located. In this house, the well opened up into an actual cave off the small basement under the kitchen. Without a furnace to pump air into the cavernous space, and without the protection of the warm earth to warm the exposed piping, every year our well would freeze. Most people worry about their pipes freezing and bursting, our chore was thawing out the well itself. That meant weeks of showering at friend's and family member's houses, melting snow on the fire in large pans to have water to flush toilets and water the cats, and purchasing drinking water from the store so we could have our tea and wash our faces.

Another hassle of every winter was cleaning out the chimney. Several times a winter, heavy creosote would clog the bend of the chimney, only notifying us of its presence when the chimney would refuse to draft and smoke would pour into the house through every crack and crevice of the stove and exposed chimney pipe. And without fail, at least one of these occurrences every winter would happen right before or during an event where our house was filled with visitors.

Without a backup heat source, our house would grow deathly cold if we were away from home for more than a half day. Coming home to a cold house with room temperatures in the low forties sometimes made the still air inside the walls feel colder and more painful than the outside. If we were lucky, the immediate space around the stove and chimney upstairs would be warm within a few hours.

Providing your own fuel for warmth was often a challenge with my hours-long commutes to and from work. More often than I want to admit we were at the mercy of buying firewood if we had not been able to stock up enough throughout the summer. More often than I want to remember, the wood we would buy would be at dishonest volumes and prices, not cured so as to burn, and always too long and oversized to fit into our stove. And at the end of almost every winter we would spend cold, snowless weekends gathering scraps of split wood, broken branches, small pieces of random woodshop throwaways, and stolen newspapers, all to make pitiful fires than required constant attention to make small amounts of heat needed to fend off the last, desperate storms of winter as they tried to hold back the Spring.

We had purchased an old wooden travel trunk at a local auction shortly after buying the house. That soon became known to our friends as, the blanket chest, and was the first place they visited when they arrived at our house. It was a given that hanging out here required a blanket, and they needed to ensure they got a good, warm one before they were gone. But one of the joys that Ell brought into this house, was that there was always a blanket for each one of our guests; no one went without and somehow there was always one left even if it was the one she was making as it hung across her own lap.

Of course there are more stories --leaking roofs, burnt carpet, bloody hands, falling trees, cold floors-- but this was still a house filled with love and laughter. It could easily have been the kind of place that tried one's soul (and perhaps it finally broke one of them),but it was still a place people liked to come. The one thing that Ell and I held dear to our hearts, was that everyone who came here called it cozy. Our log house was one of those places where you just felt comfortable and happy. No cold air, lack of water, or smoky smells could take that away. And that's what I'll always remember about this house.

The Long Winter

2011-01-20T21:33:00.002-05:00

That's the book I'm almost done with. It was written by Laura Ingalls Wilder, better known for Little House On The Prairie fame. I've read the series of books she wrote every decade I've been alive. (To be honest, my Mom read them to me when I was too young to read.) I thought this winter was a great time to read the series for my 30's decade.

As I've said before, I truly feel the timeframe between the Civil War and World War I was one of the most honest, real times in America's history. Surviving was the profession most people did for a living, and that's exactly what they did, just try to live. Everything was deliberate and real. People respected other people and manners and God with an honesty not since matched. It was dangerous and exciting all at the same time. Of course there were bad examples of men and respect, but for the most part, that time was filled with people pursuing a better life and a better nation; albiet with the harsh reality of suffering and hardship. I truly feel it was the golden age of America.

And so tonight --as one of those soft snows that make me appreciate this season I usually detest-- falls across Ohio, I plan on finishing The Long Winter as I sit beside my warm, glowing fire, smoking my pipe, and envisioning what it would be like to live in that simpler era. I'm off to read.

Life on hold

2011-01-17T11:32:00.002-05:00

Everything in my life seems to be in a holding pattern. Next Friday morning at 10:45am is the court hearing to dissolve my marriage. While I'm still more sad than I can ever put into words, the overriding feelings I'm wrestling with now are waiting to move on with my future. I have a couple big announcements to make, stuff to get rid of, plans to make, and a bunch of emotions to sort through..... and all of those I feel like I can't do until the court date is over.

Why? Well part of it makes sense; my life alone won't really begin until then. But why I'm waiting for stuff that could easily be handled in-the-now is confusing. Well, in twelve days it won't matter so I guess I'll just stay on hold.

No real reason why I'm sharing this today, it's just been on my mind.

Next Blog

2011-01-15T22:52:00.002-05:00

After doing some house cleaning, I got cozy under a blanket in my Lay-Z-Boy to do some blog surfing. For a half hour I dealt with the anger/annoyance/sadness that almost two thirds of my blogroll aren't active anymore, but then decided I didn't want tonight's evening in the blogosphere to end as a negative feeling. To turn things around I remembered something I used to do when I was new to blogging..... the simple act of, "Next Blog".

Unless you use Wordpress or your own custom template, everybody has a link at the top of their Blogger page called, Next Blog. Clicking on it takes you, completely random, to someone else's blog. It's never the same blog and there's no way to refine your search; you really are taking a chance at what you'll find. In the past I've found gaming sites, cooking blogs, family picture albums, prayer groups, book reviews, soft core porn, and on and on and on, and often not in English. It truly is an exciting way to surf the blogosphere but something I haven't done in years.

So tonight I clicked on, Next Blog, and for the first time I can remember I found five identical blogs, one after the other. Every one of them was written by a lady and every one of them fit into the following categories... 1) Mother, 2) two kids, 3) Christian, 4) American, 5) white. It was if I'd asked for a specific type of blog, which, like I said, isn't possible. Which raised the question, with the slow death of the blogosphere in mind, did I just get lucky finding the same kind of blog or is that specific demographic the only people still blogging? Makes one think.

The second greatest day of the year

2011-01-11T20:49:00.003-05:00

You didn't think I was going to let 1/11/11 go by without a post, did you?

So what could I possibly write about that would be deserving of such an awesome date? How about this.....

Thank you.

To all of you who have prayed for me.
To all of you who have prayed for my Dad.
To all of you who have prayed for my family.
To all of you I call friends.
To all of you that call me a friend.
To all of you that read Eleven.
To all of you who comment on Eleven.
To all of you that still write on your own blog.
To all of you that inspire me with what you write on your own blog.
To all of you that make me laugh with what you write on your own blog.
To all of you who smile more than you cry.
To all of you who cry more than you smile.
To all of you who are pretty.
To all of you who are ugly.
To all of you who are normal.
To all of you who are thankful we live in 2011 so we could have fun with the number, 11.
To all of you who could care less about this great day or the number, 11.
To all of you who appreciate the apple as a glorious food.
To all of you who appreciate chocolate as equally glorious.
To all of you who have gifted me one of those glorious foods.
To all of you who think cheese is a better food than either one of those.
To all of you who live close.
To all of you who live far away.
To all of you who live far enough away I don't have to make up excuses to not visit you.
To all of you that have read this entire list.
To all of you who would keep reading if I made it longer.
To all of you who are thankful this is the last comment.

Thank you.
And happy 1/11/11 day to all of you. YAY for ELEVEN!!!

Oatmeal Scotchies

2011-01-05T21:15:00.008-05:00

I'm not sure how many of you know it, but I was married to a professional cook. An actual, professional baker. Now that Ell's gone, my house has been void of anything that resembles real cooking, baking, etc., for a long time. So when x-mas rolled around (yeah, I said x-mas, deal with it), I got a hankering for some of my favorite cookies and decided to try my hand at making them myself. Unfortunately, a horrible stomach virus rolled through my circle of friends leaving them unwanting of making, let alone eating, cookies. Skip ahead to this evening... and I decided to make those cookies.

So I pre-heated the oven, filled the counter with ingredients, found a couple mixing bowls and an old mixer, packed a pipe with appropriately named tobacco called, "Christmas Cookie", turned on a Manchester Orchestra CD, and brewed a pot of coffee in case the project went longer than expected.

Well, despite the absence of a professional baker (even though I'd rather have her here doing the baking), the cookies turned out awesome. Here's some pics of the process:

So, who want's to come over and share in the goodness of Sam's Oatmeal Scotchies?

Soul searching at a stuffy suit party

2010-12-30T20:54:00.004-05:00

Tonight I went to a party celebrating a long-time politician's many years of public service. I wore my best suit and hob-nobbled with a room full of Senators, County Commissioners, Judges, business owners, and more well dressed, elderly people than I could count. When I say hob nob, what I meant was walk around for three minutes and then leave. Yep, I left. It wasn't my scene and I had to get out of there. I actually felt like I was suffocating.

Here's what I mean. Many times I've heard people say they don't see me as a banker. Here on eleven we've even had some discussions about who I am versus who I play on TV. During this current tumultuous season of my life I'm very aware of the soul-searching I'm going through. Some days I find it hard to go to work because I don't have the purpose/goal that existed when Ell was going to school. Every day I have to remind myself that being a banker is all I have right now to make money. But that's hard to do when the core of me isn't a banker.

And so tonight I found myself in a room of people who saw me as an equal. Banker... a respected profession with a long history of attributes like: skilled, schooled, prosperous, influential, trusted, and even though it sometimes causes questions of ethics..... rich. All things that also fit the rest of the people I was in the room with. And so they didn't even look at me weird even though the real Sam would much rather be smoking a pipe, hiking in the woods, living without electricity, growing my own food, and certainly not wearing the clothes I was in as they looked at me.

Of course I can fit into their world. Of course I'm a great banker. Of course I dress exactly as they do. Of course my car is expensive enough to fit between their Mercedes' and Caddy's. Of course I can talk to them about all the same high-class things they want to talk about. I can be one of them. Without any effort. I am a professional that could rub shoulders with other professionals and never raise red flags that I'm an outsider. I get that. All of that. I really do.

And I should be proud of this, no? I've made it into my mid-thirties with a solid reputation, an impressive resume, and a career that many people envy. I could go to any bank in any part of the country and get a job. In today's economy that's better than gold. And yet I'm lying if I say it fits.

I can already hear the words of others reading this diatribe. Get over yourself... Stop whining... Suck it up... Get a grip... Appreciate the good things you have... and the least helpful of all and potentially the most shocking -- trust in God and everything will be fine. All cause a genuine sigh because I know they all hold truth. But I'm just being honest here, even it turns some off to me.

So after three minutes, yes, three, I walked up the stairs and away from the room of peers. I'm simply tired of pretending. I'm still content to play banker by day, and honestly more devoted to that as it will provide a means to an end I'll talk about sometime in the future, but I'm just not going to pretend that's who I am outside of 8-5, M-F. I have better things to do than pretend. Take me as I am.

A great conversation

2010-12-14T16:36:00.003-05:00

So, turns out bok-choy and mushrooms are no match for a Strep infection. But it tasted good, anyway.

After a few days of ignoring the fact that I had something stronger than just a sore throat, I headed to the doctor this morning and got a prescription for some antibiotics. While waiting for the script to be filled I did some grocery shopping; including a six pack of Great Lakes Brewery's Christmas Ale.

On the way out to the car, I stopped and put a few bucks into the Salvation Army canister. The following conversation occurred with the too-friendly, under-appreciated, conversation-lacking, middle-aged woman ringing the jingle bells.

Odd lady: Oh my goodness. Let me see that beer carton.
Me: Um......... okay.
Lady, all of a sudden very excited: That looks like a train, oh it is a train, that is so amazing. (The Christmas Ale carton has an HO scale train car with Christmas tree bulbs in it.)
Lady still talking without taking a breath: I have a friend who would love that, just the picture though, I don't think he drinks beer, but that picture would have really excited him, well before anyway, now all he cares about it NASCAR, NASCAR NASCAR NASCAR, oh but he used to really be into miniature trains, you know, he had a whole room with tracks and cars and a tunnel.
Me, truly shocked she said all that in one breath: Wow.
Lady: I know.
Me, walking away: Yeah, model trains are pretty neat. Well, have a great day.
Lady, calling after me even though I'm twenty feet away: But you know what I like?
Me, completely shocked this conversation is still going: What's that?
Lady, smiling largely: Zeppelins.
Me: Really?
Lady: Oh yeah. Zeppelins, Dirigibles, the Hindenburg. Now those are really great.
Me, completely at a loss: Um, yeah. Those things are really something.
Lady: You bet they are. So interesting.

There was some more mumbling but I was really trying to get out the door before she could go down another rabbit trail. I laughed all the way to my car.

What's for dinner?

2010-12-11T23:08:00.003-05:00

So I've had this nasty throat cold for a few days now. No phlegm or congestion or anything else, just a killer sore throat that feels like my throat skin is ripping every time I swallow. Super painful and irritating. I saw (or read maybe) that the combination of bok-choy and shitake mushrooms works wonders for cold relief; something about how they react with the body's natural fighters, I don't know. Anyway, I thought I'd try it.

I started by washing the bok-choy and then cutting it into inch-and-a-half long pieces and placed them in the steam rack of a steaming pot. While the water was coming to a boil, I started a small skillet warming on another burner. When it reached the right heat I added about a teaspoon of stir fry sauce and about two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil. Both the steamer and the skillet got to heat at the same time so I put the bok-choy to steam and the mushrooms (which I'd already cut into chunks and washed) into the hot skillet.

To add my own little flair I decided to add some broccoli. I only allowed the bok-choy to steam for three or four minutes to not let it get wilted, and moved it to a clean plate. I then put about a half cup of broccoli into the steam tray and let that steam for about five minutes. During the steaming of both vegetables, I was flipping the mushrooms in the skillet to get them sufficiently browned and soft.

After the broccoli was done I poured it directly into the skillet and added the bok-choy. A few flips and a toss sufficiently blended all of the ingredients. I added a couple sprinkles of raw sesame seed and transferred the whole skillet to a fresh plate. The picture is a bit fuzzy because I used my phone, but as you can see, it turned out quite nice. A few cups of tea with honey and dinner was served.

Now to wait and see if it helps my throat.

Dissolution

2010-11-28T20:47:00.003-05:00

A have some news to share. Some or most of you already know what's going on in my life, but may have questions. To answer those questions and to inform those who don't know is the purpose of this post.

My dear Ell has left me and our marriage will soon be dissolved.

My desire is not for anyone to be mad at her, to feel sorry for me, or any other action that causes sides to be taken or blame placed. The core of what went wrong was that Ell and I didn't protect our marriage. We forgot that one another should have been more important than anything else in the world.

I've waited this long to post the news for a couple reasons. The first is out of respect for Ell. She posted her own pseudo-announcement last week so that frees my protection of her privacy. The second reason was not wanting this nightmare played out on something so public as the internet. But I have a family out here in the blogosphere and although it's smaller than it used to be, I wanted to give that family the opportunity to hear the news on the place the binds us together.

I doubt I'll speak more about this here on Eleven because it's not the appropriate place for conversations of this nature. You are welcome to email me, though. I'm not a closed book and will answer questions if asked.

I now must learn how to move on.

A little quiz

2010-11-07T14:04:00.003-05:00

My Dad's father was a truck driver. When he died we were cleaning out his house and I found a coffee cup with truck driver lingo printed all around the sides. As I'm sure everyone knows, truckers use CB's to communicate with other truckers; the first form of push-to-talk. Part of using a CB is learning how to decipher the code they talk in. Some of that code has leaked into regular language and is recognizable by us regular folk who have never driven a truck. Things like, "10-4" which means, "Okay" or, "I got the message." And, "Smokey" or, "Smokey the Bear" which means a police car has been spotted.

But besides the common ones, there are a lot more that most people who have never been on a CB would most likely not understand. So I thought I'd give a little quiz and see how many you can guess. Feel free to copy and paste the following into your comment and then post your answers. Here goes...

1) Handle
2) Drop the Hammer
3) Front Door
4) Back Door
5) Plain White Wrapper
6) Bear's Den
7) Big 10-4
8) Chicken Coop
9) On the side
10) Green Stamps
11) Rocking Chair

Good luck.

Friday... what a relief

2010-11-05T20:22:00.002-04:00

Even though Saturday hours at the bank are only nine to twelve, it seems to take so much time out of my weekend. Thankfully I have the next two Saturdays off so I feel such a weight off my mind knowing I have the whole weekend off.

As for my computer woes, my friend Grant seems to have tackled the majority of the virus and I think I may be able to save my books in progress. That's such a huge relief I think I owe him something big as a thank you. In addition, I now know no nasty emails came from my email account so if you get something from me, it's safe to read it.

The biggest downside of not having my computer is that I don't get to participate in Nablopomo... the yearly post-every-day-for-month event. But even more than that, I'm missing out on reading the people who are doing it. I have to steal the Inn's computer to read the posts and unfortunately I only get to do that every weekend. Bummer.

Last weekend I got the chance to go see my family in Columbus. On Saturday my sister threw a birthday party for my Mom's sixtieth and then I got to hang out with my Dad for almost ten hours on Sunday. And I also got to meet Jen, a fellow blogger, which is one of my favorite things to do... meeting people you only know through the blogosphere. Always cool.

So there's my update post. I'm off to read some Nablo postings.