A Trip to Goldsboro

Last weekend we finally made it down to visit my sister, Beth, and her family at Seymour Johnson Air Force Base in Goldsboro, NC. That's were a lot of F-15 jets hang out when they're not roaming around raising a ruckus. As near as I can understand (and believe me, I'm a slow learner) my brother-in-law, Adam, spends his days calibrating/testing/fixing the machines and tools that will either work on the jets, or work on other machines and tools that work on the jets.

I think.

Anyway, the kids were just recovering from a stomach virus known locally by the delicate name, "The Crud." So were my Beth and Adam, for that matter. But they were kind enough to host us anyway, and we had a blast.

I spent a lot of time setting up dominoes so the kids could knock them down, and building a tower so they could knock it down. Then we went outside where Zach displayed his prowess with the garden hose and Zoe whupped me at soccer, outscoring me by at least 25 goals. (She's also a dynamo at T-ball.)

We spent a lot of time reading books too.



On the adult side of things we took a tour of the base, saw where my brother-in-law works, ate some steak, and taught Nicole how to play Euchre.

All in all, it pretty awesome weekend.

(Beth, thanks for letting us visit!)

A Visit To Great Falls

They're great. They're falls. That's about the size of it.



The most interesting thing about Great Falls, which is right outside DC, is that George Washington presided over the building the canal. It was kind of a 'tweener job for him. Post Revolutionary war. Pre Presidency.

More here.

One other interesting thing about that day. Right as we were about to leave, all kinds of firetrucks showed up. The fireman jogged down to the water and jumped into a little rubber boat and started zooming all over the place. Then a helicopter showed up and started making a series of low passes over the water.

Apparently they have a lot of drownings around there.

I looked in the paper and didn't see reports of a drowning or anything, so maybe it was just a drill?

Eric and Rocky, Redux

There is one slightly Twilight Zone aspect to our house.

From the beginning....

When I was a wee lad, I LOVED dogs. I counted our dogs among my best friends and - since I spent most of my time working outside on our farm - they were my constant companions. They were by my side as I fed the cows, worked in the fields, rode my fourwheeler all over tarnation...

One of my first dogs was a German Shepard, whom I named Rocky.



(A note here on pet names: As a child, I had a tendency to think out of the box when it came to names. My first cat I named Christmas Tree, because he was completely black, just like it's really dark out all the time around Christmastime, which is when the Christmas trees are lit. Such was my logic as a four-year-old. My second cat was named Jeff The Wildcat, in honor of my cousin, Jeff, who played football for a team who's mascot was a wildcat.)

Rocky was awesome. He looked really tough, had a fierce bark, and scared the bejesus out of the Jehovah’s Witnesses who dropped by every 6 months or so. He was also really sweet, clearly preferring to lick strangers rather than bite them.

Alas, he also had a unquenchable desire to chase cars. And one Christmas eve, when I was 10ish, he finally caught one. May he rest in peace.

Boy, was THAT a crappy Christmas.

Contributing to the emotional load was the fact that my parents had purchased one big gift for me that year... a stuffed dog that looked almost exactly like Rocky. Their idea, and it was brilliant, was to give me a way to have Rocky inside the house even though the real Rocky wasn't allowed inside.

Mom and Dad, of course, were in a complete bind. They didn't have time to find another gift for me. So their options were to a) not give the stuffed dog to me and somehow explain to me why they didn't get me any presents or b) give the dog to me and hope that I didn't have a complete emotional meltdown.

They gave it to me.

And that day it was both terrible and horrible to have this immediate reminder of my best friend who was now dead. But over the coming months most of the terribleness dropped away, and I grew to love that stuffed dog.

I still have him today and I fully intend to pass him on to my kids.


OK, so here's the Twilight Zone part of our new house:
Our downstairs neighbor is named Eric.
He has a dog.
That dog is named Rocky.

How weird is that? Of course, in terms of appearance, our Rocky's couldn't possibly be more different. But this Rocky is a sweet little dog too, and is quickly becoming on of our favorite guests.



And, yes, his tongue almost always hangs out the side like that.

You'll Know Where You Are

For about a million different reasons, this is my favorite picture of all time.

More like it here at Fogonazos, which is great blog. (Note: it's a bilingual site. So if you can't talk the Spanish, look for links to the English language version.)

Tom and Jane

Two of my best friends, Tom and Jane, came to visit around the 4th of July.




We hadn't moved in to our new place yet, so they were stuck sleeping on a mattress on the floor of our old basement apartment. (Sorry guys. You can return the favor in September.)

It was bloody hot out, so after one sun-filled afternoon listening to Jazz on the mall, we decided to focus on cooler activities, like visiting the monuments at night. Even then, it was STILL in the upper 80's when we wrapped up our trip to the WWII Memorial and the Lincoln Memorial... and that was darn near midnight.

Despite the heat, visiting the monuments at night was definitely worth it. It's on my Favorite Things In DC list.

(Click the images to see a larger version.)

Settling In

For all of you who have been calling for more updates, I say this:

Quit.
Your.
Belly-aching.

I serve at the pleasure of the president.
I am the decider.
I am not a crook.

Lockbox.

Etcetera.

As is my wont, here comes this month's slew of posts.

We start with some much-coveted photos of our newly settled apartment.

Ye olde livingroom.

We love this mirror - the frame is made from cool pressed tin that you can't see too well in the picture...
...but it weighs about 5 gatrillion pounds. I almost killed the both of us while hanging it.

Sleeping quarters.

Stairs to the loftish bedroom area.

Our tiny, tiny kitchen. (This is the only room in the place we don't like.)

2 views from our huge deck.
It's not the most glamorous place in the city, but it sure is nice to have this place to sit in the evenings.