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Wednesday, July 06, 2005
....four kittens and early adventures
We are a family with several cats. Some that are ours, and some that we have somehow managed to inherit due to my wife and daughter who seem to feed any animal that comes our way, especially cats. Jessica could never resist a kitten, I sometimes start to think she is part cat. We have one that my daughter has taken as one of her favorites. Little Snoogums is the smallest of all the cats. She is a plain ol alley cat, with a plain gray coat with light striping. Somehow, due to her size she has always seemed to be a kitten, never growing,though she has been staying with us for some time now.
Like many cat owners, we found out the hard way that little Snoogums was grown, when all of a sudden her belly started to swell. It was then we figured out she was a soon to be mama. Silly us, not thinking that this could happen to her. When the day finally came, the natural instinct kicked in and Snoogums became the mother to four new kittens. She made a home in the neighbors boat, which was protected with a boat cover. We thought she had made a good safe choice. No chance of any strange animals or the enviroment affecting her or her new family.
Earlier this week, she decided to move them to a new location. Snoogums had moved them under our back deck. We were concerned with her choice, due to now being exposed to all creatures and weather. Belinda quickly covered that portion of the deck with a tarp, in hope of helping keep them dry. Then last night it happened. The rain moved in. Tropical storm Cindy came to visit and the rain and wind were more than most in our area expected.
Early this morning, Belinda let our dog, Charlie, out the back door. While inspecting his territory, he immedilately started to crawl under the deck to retrieve something. He finally came out and had a kitten in his powerful jaw. But Charlie, being the most sensitive dog we have ever known, laid the kitten down and begins to lick it. He was somehow, the new surrogate protector. Belinda looked under the deck to find the others only to discover they were all missing. Somehow, during the night, little Snoogums had once again started to move them. Everyone, including our neighbor, Kelly, looked high and low, but never found the missing kittens.
After giving up Kelly then had to leave and visit his wife at work. After driving all across town, down the interstate and arriving at her location, he began to hear the meow of kittens. He quickly opened the hood to his van to find one little kitten on the radiator and another on top of the fan housing. He was shocked and amazed the two were still alive. Not seeing the third missing kitten, he assumed that it had been lost in route on way to his destination. He then left the two found kittens with his wife and started off to work.
Once at work he again thought he heard another kitten. He searched all through the van, under the hood and the underparts to the van. He tested it out and noticed that every time he started the van up, he could hear a kitten. He then took his van to his service shop at work where they then lifted the van to check from beneath. There, inside the lower fan housing, was the last kitten. Unhurt, safe, yet scared, Kelley had found the last kitten, one that beyond odds had survived.
After hearing the story on the way home from work tonight, I knew my daughter would be excited. When I walked in the door, the first thing she did was run to show me the family that was at home again. Her little kittens were all home with their mother. They now had a new, safe home. Kelley also has decided to claim the last one, the last survivor, the last little kitten.
Posted at 07:08 pm by AnotherMan
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Monday, July 04, 2005
Another long hard day at work. A holiday to make it even worse. So after such a stinky day what do you think I would do? I rushed home to spend time with the Beast. I pulled it from the shed, driving it up to the driveway, where I immediately start to go to work on cleaning it. Cleaning isn't good enough actually, "Detailing" is the proper word. I carefully wipe all the road grime and dust from every hidden corner. Then I take the detailers wax and cautiously spray it everywhere to begin the first buffing stage. Next I take another cloth and buff every square inch of the beast to a wonderful shine.
Ok, ok....I know....it's only a motorcycle. But, it's "MY" motorcycle and could it be that I might be slightly obsessed?
You tell me.
Besides, what man doesn't want a clean ride?
Posted at 08:00 pm by AnotherMan
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Sunday, July 03, 2005
...early Sunday morning, riding the Beast
What a wonderful way to start a Sunday morning. Jumped out of bed at 6am, by 6:30, I was on the Beast. Today was a good day for a quiet ride in the country. I drove through Mobile, through Bankhead Tunnel and over the causeway. The bay waters looking so calm and so different as I glide pass the bay at water level, unlike being in my truck, caged in, looking down at the water. Powered up the hill to Spanish Fort on Hwy 31 and took it all the way into Bay Minette. The weather in the early morning was perfect. Partly cloudy, no traffic, cool spots in the shade as I rode, just me and the Beast. The green machine that powers up with the flick of a wrist. It responds to where I want to go as we move in unison, in sync with the road. At times I can't help but sing as I ride, happy and enjoying the freedom.
I stopped for a drink of water and to chat with a few freinds in Bay Minette, then started back towards home. The return trip home was just as nice, through the woods and past the bay again. After making the return trip home, as I started to pull back into the neighborhood, it was hard to not just keep going. In fact, after going in and letting everyone know I was safe, I walked back out, fired it up again and took a quick ride down Hwy 90 and back.
I am hooked. Not a biker yet, but certainly a bike lover.
Let's go riding.
Posted at 09:39 am by AnotherMan
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Thursday, June 30, 2005
...the little boy, mad at his toy.
Now that the world knows that I ride a bike, it might be best to provide some history before I cover my first incident. This past year I have been tortured, pushing 50 years in age, looking at all of the people on motorcycles riding around, looking happy and having fun. It has been over thirty years since I have been on one. Somehow, the desire had been growing in me, under control, but nagging at me.
My wife, the sharp, perceptive woman that I love, did an incredible gesture for me about a month ago. She came home one day, to announce that she had bought me a motorcycle. I was and am still stunned. She said she did it for me, to give me time to be me. She gave me a part of my past and some fun at a point in life where a change in need is obvious to all.
I had the bike delivered to the house, knowing that I would rather fall in my own driveway and not in the parking lot of the dealership if it should happen. I am no fool, I am not about to buy a new bike and drop 650lbs of machine in front of the store. I wasn't about to let everyone know how scared I was to actually ride the beast. It looked huge, a monster that would surely punish me for making the slightest of mistakes.
My first day went well. Took it all around the neighborhood, practicing my turns, throttling and braking. I was so excited. It was easier than I had ever hoped. I was cocky. The second day is when the boy in me showed up. I pulled up to the end of our driveway, where my wife, her brother and two of our neighbors were standing and talking. We chat for a few minutes, when I announced that the road was calling and I had to go. I throttled up, slowly pulled out of the drive, took the turn to the left when it happened. The bike started to lean in, there was not enough power to fight gravity. I gave the machine gas, when all of a sudden it jumped up and seemingly sideways when it hit the curb, that just three seconds ago was across the street, and the monster takes a quick roll in the grass, throwing me, the reluctant rider, as we fell.
As soon as I stopped rolling, I jumped right back up, snatched the monster from the ground, while fearing that everyone was looking, hopped back on it and fired it right up. I then quickly rolled the throttle hard, it responded and flew down the street, where I then took the next turn and was quickly out of sight. Knowing that I was out of sight, I then pulled over to the curb, turned the machine off, put the kickstand down and quickly dismounted. I then sat on the curb, my chin resting in my hands and stared a hole in the monster.
"How dare you throw me", running through my mind, over and over.
The little boy, mad at his toy.
Posted at 07:37 pm by AnotherMan
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Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Ok...it's that time again. It seems every ten years or so I go through a change.
Twenty years ago, my children were born, I became a father.
Ten years ago, my life was torn apart, then rebuilt.
Now, I have a new hobby, one for me, one that scares me, yet one that also recharges me.
2005 Yamaha VStar 1100 Silverado
The Beast
Posted at 06:22 pm by AnotherMan
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A long time friend of mine had a heart attack last week.
An old friend fell out, and was close to death.
All who know him were upset, all were afraid.
Those who are good, should not leave.
This old friend was saved.
According to him, he was saved years ago.
According to him, this was a journey given to him
I worried.
I did not want to lose one of the most respectable family men I have ever known.
I respect him.
I admire him.
I admire his family and all that they have accomplished as a family.
My old friend went home yesterday.
He is well.
His journey of life will continue.
Our version of life continues, stay with us Mike.
Posted at 05:50 pm by AnotherMan
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Monday, March 28, 2005
It never fails. You plan a simple trip that should, even under the worst of circumstances, take only nine hours of driving and it turns into eleven hours of one misstep after another.
As always, when on such a long trip, one child always has to get sick. No trip would be complete without it. There is never a right time, a right place, it just happens. Our select person this trip was little Jennifer. All of four years old, never says a word, but when the time arrives, she is both blunt and to the point. "Daddy, I am going to be sick." At which point she does what she had proclaimed in the previous breath. No time for action, only reaction. The immediate sound of rejection of her inner content, then the indescribable aroma. The timing should have been my clue to the remainder of the trip. We were in the middle of fourteen lanes, in downtown Atlanta, surrounded by thousands of wannabe NASCAR drivers. There were no options, no opportunity to pull over and take care of the situation. We had to ride it out, air conditioner on, raining outside, us and the sweet aroma of a child.
We finally get to a point twenty miles down the road where we can pull off. We find a local McDonald's and take time to clean up and eat a quick lunch. After making sure everyone was feeling back to normal, we again began our journey. Thirty miles down the road, the youngest proclaims she needs to go. Based on her previous declaration, I immediately take the first exit and rush to the nearest facility. While she is taking care of business, I reach ofr my phone, only to realize that it was not on me. All of a sudden, I sink into the ground as I remember that I had taken it off when eating at McDonald's. It was thirty miles back in the trip. It was sitting on a table. It probably at this point belonged to someone else.
So in the van we all return, to begin our drive, thirty miles back the wrong direction, back into Atlanta. All the time thinking how stupid I am. How could I possibly be so stupid, why am I wasting time going back? Just as we were about to pull up at our destination, once again, the youngest proclaims she is going to be sick. My brother, now trained and prepared, grabs a plastic bag and just in the nick of time, gets it up to her to capture the content of her latest meal. Yum, yum! I wonder if I could get a refund while inside?
As my brother took time to clean up again, I was lucky in finding my phone. One of the fine team members of that fine establishment had been honest enough to turn the phone in. I really was surprised, relieved and happy.
So once again, we started back over the same thirty miles for the third time. From that point on the trip was uneventful We finally arrived at our destination. The kids being focused on the Game Boys. Not a peep out of them for the many hours on the road. I would have to say that parents these days are lucky. No longer do you have the prolonged in fighting that I am sure my parents experienced on the journeys of my youth. There was nothing to do but argue and fight. Now they have mind numbing games that eliminate all reality.
But hey, who am I to complain about the progress of technology? Especially when it works to my advantage. Games, better than any sedative known.
Posted at 09:42 pm by AnotherMan
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Sunday, March 27, 2005
I am guilty...I haven't posted in some time. Not that I have lost interest, I am just so busy with life at times that I can't find time to capture it and post my thought. Reflection is wonderful, when you have time to stand and look. Again, I will try to remotivate myself.
With spring break starting this weekend, I have taken on a new adventure. My mom lives in Charlotte and it is rare that I ever get the time to visit her. I also have a brother in this area that also never makes the time and effort. A few weeks back I had the idea of renting a van in hopes that he and I would go to see her and have some quiet family time.
Plans were made, schedules arranged. Then in some strange twist, it all turned into something different. The kids are going with us! So this week we have agreed to take time away from work, load the younger kids in a van, leaving the wives behind and we are going to take a road trip to Charlotte to visit family.
I know for many this would not be anything unusual. But for my us, this is going to be an undertaking of extreme measure. Being slighty insane, my brother and I both waited late in life to have children. The four that we are taking are all under the age of 11. We, being the older gentlemen that we are, have been challenged by our wives to survive, to be allowed to be "mommy" for a week. They think we can't handle it. They think that we can't do the things they do with our children.
To be honest, we can't! But we can be Dads who have fun with our kids. This will be a week of goofing off, different rules and memories that I hope will last a lifetime for them. This will be a week for our children, one of playing, silly jokes, twisted humor and new experiences for all.
We leave early in the morning.
Updates and pictures to follow, stay tuned!
Posted at 09:24 am by AnotherMan
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Sunday, February 27, 2005
The emotion of human achievement
Is it not strange, the different situations that create strong emotions in people? I have watched many over the years and noticed the range of emotions that people exhibit under different situations. Some are stone cold, emotionless, some fake concern, while others, show genuine concern and passion at the drop of a hat.
I was thinking all day about the post I did yesterday about our soldiers that returned home. I thought about a lot of things, as my mind usually tends to go in different directions when I am confronted with myself. I wanted to know why I was so emotional at watching a group of mostly strangers returning home.
As I thought on it, I realized that I am usually very touched when people reach levels of accomplishment, based on hard work, or genuine concern for others that is not false. I thought about movies and stories that have touched me. Heros in my life who have moved me and individuals who were rewarded for being honest and strong in character. It seems that as each year passes, those emotions seem to be stronger in me.
Even the simple reward of a child loving a parent who has given all of their heart and support to a child. The reward of raising a family. The parent that loves.
A man and a woman who, against all odds, walk the path of life together until the end of their time.
Ordinary people achieving extraordinary feats of life.
Role models for young and old.
Heros in our time.
Heros in life.
Posted at 09:15 pm by AnotherMan
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Saturday, February 26, 2005
Tommy came home today....they all came home
It was a special day, this cool, overcast day in Bay Minette. One of those days you see in the movies, with one of those scenes that tug at your heart and put a tear in your eye, a lump in your throat. It was a scene from small town America. Our soldiers, our friends, came home today. One year in Iraq and they all came home.
The park was decorated, a band was playing, patriotic songs being sung by all. Families, freinds, well wishers, along with the curious were out on this great day. Children were waving flags as the crowd grew larger with each passing minute.
We were all facing south, looking at the bridge that enters town, waiting for the blue lights of the escorts that we knew would be ahead of the buses with our soldiers. The announcer would call out landmarks that we were all familiar with as the buses came closer to the destination. Then the announcement came that they were about to be on the bridge.
We all turned, saw the blue lights and suddenly there was an emotional charge that surged through the crowd. Family members rushed to the road, mother's crying, children excited and nervous. We all stood back as the state trooper cars pulled up with the buses behind them. The soldiers were here, finally, after what seemed like the longest year in memory. They too, were excited, faces pressed to the windows on the buses.
The buses came to a stop in front of the crowd, the doors opened, the crowd was chanting, "USA, USA, USA". Then it seemed like time slowed down. One by one, our soldiers, all dressed sharply in desert kahki, stepped through the door. They each took their turn in returning home, scanning the crowd for loved ones and friends. The yelling louder by the minute.
Each soldier was instantly a hero, a father, a daughter, a wife, a husband, a friend. They were home, they were no longer soldiers. They assembled one last time. You tell they wanted to be let free. After a few formal speeches, dignitaries doing their duty, they were told to go home.
The crowd rushed in. I had been watching Tommy, along with several others that I knew. Tommy has always been special. A quiet young man before leaving, one who never complained, worked hard and just beginning life. I watched this young man at attention, a young man proud, a young man who will be forever changed.
He rushed to his family, as I stood back and watched. They all cried, Tommy and his family. His father, a strong and proud man could not, nor would not hold back his feelings. He hugged the young man as would any father would his young. son. The emotions in me were almost unbearable, the tears building up.
Then Tommy looked up and saw me standing there, in the crowd. He walked over to me, stuck his hand out, tears in his eyes and we stood and shook hands. I tried to speak, but I was so choked up, all I could do was mutter. After several tries I finally got it out and told him I was happy he was back and thanked him for all that he had done. He seemed so happy to be home.
He is home. They are all home. Our soldiers, from a small town. A town where time never changes. A small American town, where life repeats itself with each passing generation. It's a wonderful life at times. One that I would never trade.
Welcome home Tommy. 
Posted at 08:59 pm by AnotherMan
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