Archives May 2015

Yesterday I was out at our annual tax certificate sale where people can “buy” certificates for taxes that have gone unpaid.  It is a way to make a quick 5% on your money at a minimum and a way to potentially get a leg up on buying a delinquent property down the road if the taxes remain unpaid.  The event is held auction style with bidders holding up their bidder number plates.  It works in the opposite direction of a conventional auction however.  The numbers, which are the interest rate the bidder will get, start at 18 and work their way down, all the way to .25%

My role there was just to ensure the hardware/networking portion of the sale went smoothly which it did outside a few brief wifi hiccups.  The rest of the time was just sitting around basically, watching bidder cards flash up and down.  If the boredom wasn’t bad enough, the deep freeze temps they had the AC set at in the auditorium left me chilled to the bone.  Thankfully it is only a once a year event.

I am already emotionally attached to all 11 of the new chicks we have been raising for the past month and a half but I definitely have a favorite, Pumpkin.  Pumpkin is the runt of all of the chicks but she also is one of the most docile/friendly.  When we open the door to the coop she will come right over, hoping Cindy or I will pick her up.  The other day we almost had a baby chick mutiny on our hands when I took Pumpkin out and allowed her to eat exclusive of the other 10.  She seemed so content. It really is interesting just how diverse the personalities of the birds are, something the average, non-chicken owning person would never realize.

The baby chicks are becoming more and more adult in their habits.  Last night was the first time all 11 of them headed up top to roost for the evening together.  A few of them had been doing it for a few days but now it apparently is a total group effort.  Of course they are all growing rapidly, we have to come up with a time line as to when we can move them out of the garage and into the back yard.

There are further complications to that timeline because of Lola’s ailment.  Even though the vet said she has parasites, I am not 100% sure that she doesn’t also have Mareks disease.  My reading about the virus makes it seem it is EXTREMELY easy for bird to get the disease.  A common practice at hatcheries is to immunize baby chicks as soon as they are hatched against Mareks.

We have been trying to find out if the chicks Rural King sells are immunized.  The staff there has proven to be pretty clueless for the most part regarding background of their chicks however last night Cindy was able to get the name of the hatchery in Michigan they get them from.  She is calling them today to find out definitively if the chicks are immunized or not.  If they are not, we have 1000 doses of Mareks vaccine in the fridge that we will be administering to the chicks this weekend.  Unfortunately, the longer you wait to immunize them, the more susceptible they are to getting the disease but it’s still worth doing obviously.  It takes 10 days after the vaccine for the immunity to be developed so that means we should keep them garage bound at least until that amount of time passes.  Of course the logistics of vaccinating 11 high energy, squirmy, baby chickens will be quite challenging and surely require two people.

This weekend has a lot of little to do’s in it which will be peppered with lots of chicken care I am sure.  It almost feels like cheating having another weekend after only three days of work but it’s a situation I could certainly get accustomed to.

Despite recently passing 150k miles on the odometer Cindy’s Prius is still rolling along at a very economical pace.  The car still drives like new, looks great and can still average 50mpg with hybrid sensitive driving habits.  It’s a seriously awesome vehicle.

This extended four day weekend seemed to literally be over in a blink of an eye.  I really didn’t get much time to just hang out until mid afternoon yesterday.  On Saturday morning I headed outside to do a few chores before we headed out to run some errands.  One of those errands was to buy four new rollers for the patio slider.  I had already ordered four rollers on Amazon but when they arrived I saw they were slightly smaller than what was in place.  We struck out trying to find a match at Lowes but luckily found four rollers at Home Depot that looked nearly identical in size and layout.  They were less than what I paid via Amazon.

During the afternoon I took on the replacement of the rollers.  Removal and installation of the rollers were both more challenging than I expected.  Both operations required used of a prying tool and a hammer, tools you would think don’t mix well with big panes of glass.  While I worked on the rollers Cindy was busy cleaning years of dirt, grease and hair off the track for the doors.  When she started the track area was basically black.  When she was finished it looked brand new.

When I put the first door back on the track after replacing the rollers I was disappointed that the door still needed more effort than it should to open or close.  When I pulled the new rollers out of the box they were stiff, which I thought was odd.  Well I figured I may as well shoot the brand new rollers with some WD40 to see what would happen.  The miracle lubricant immediately made a big difference, the new rollers now spun like skateboard wheels.  The reduced friction resulted in both doors sliding more freely than they have in the last 10 years.

Late in the afternoon we had to go pick up the race bibs from the running store which was hosting early packet pick up for Monday’s race.  On the way there I dropped Cindy off at the ATT store across the street, we were wanting to get her upgraded to an Iphone 6.  She has been using my old Iphone 5 for awhile and it was starting to develop some issues.

After I picked up the race gear I met up with her at ATT while she was still in the middle of the transaction.  The phone swap took longer than I expected.  Time was tight because we wanted to go to the movies Saturday night and we didn’t leave with the new phone until a little after 6.  We had to still run home, eat dinner and shower before heading out to try to catch a 7:35 showing of Mad Max.  At first I thought we had no shot of making the shortage of time work and even suggested we just bag it.  Cindy was confident we could do it and she turned out to be right.  We got seated in the theater shortly after the previews started.

I saw the original Mad Max but don’t recall lots of details about it so I didn’t have a lot of expectations going in.  Well both Cindy and I were pleasantly surprised.  The movie was extremely entertaining from start to finish.  The crazy vehicles and the crazier people that drove them were worth the price of admission alone. Luckily the rest of the movie held up as well.  It was just good old fashioned fun to watch, a very solid A summer flick.

When we got home Saturday night Cindy said she wanted to check on Lucy and Lola to make sure they got in the coop ok.  Well when we looked in the window we saw Lucy up on the high perch but no Lola.  Of course Cindy immediately freaked out.  We went in the run with the light and saw Lola was sitting on the ground under the shed platform.  We could only assume that she felt too weak to climb up the ramp which of course which was disturbing. She had been exhibiting symptoms that made us think something was up for awhile. She had seemed particularly slow and low energy during the day.  When we saw she didn’t even have the energy to make the short ramp climb we knew things were pretty serious.

Cindy had been doing lots of chicken research recently and was scared that Lola had developed Marek’s disease, a herpes type virus that has a 100% morbidity rate and there is no cure.  A lot of the symptoms Lola had matched up but the thing is, the symptoms match up with a lot of other chicken afflictions as well.  I found a local vet that said they specialized in birds and made an appointment for Tuesday.  The rest of the weekend we kept Lola mostly in the chicken run so she wouldn’t tire herself out walking all over the yard. The other disturbing thing was if it was Marek’s it is highly contagious, meaning Lucy would have it more than likely.  Fortunately we have seen no energy or appearance issues with her.  It also meant that if we wanted to protect our 11 baby chicks we needed to give them a Mareks vaccine, which I ordered over the weekend as well.

On Sunday morning Cindy and I did another GPS-free bike ride, to Dunkin Donuts this time.  The 10 miles there felt very easy.  We maintained speeds over 18 mph without working very hard thanks to a tail wind.  Of course this meant on the way back we fought that same wind the entire way, making the return trip much more challenging.

Over the weekend we also hung an American flag to the chicken run which made for a nice patriotic addition to the chicken housing.  Doing it on Memorial Day weekend seemed appropriate.

Sunday felt very busy for us.  It seemed like we had lots of little things to attend to and a lot of them were chicken related.  The amount of chicken related to do’s Cindy deals with on a daily basis is surprisingly long.  The 11 baby chicks need very regular feeding, watering and clean up.

Since integrating the chicks they have mostly got along although there are brief pecking order battles now and then.  Despite the general peace in their chicken tractor home when it comes to hanging out the original 6 chicks and the week younger 5 almost always do so exclusively with their own group.

We also carted the chicken tractor outside to the front yard over the weekend to let the chicks experience the outdoors.  All of them freak out to varying degrees as I am rolling the chicken tractor, with them inside from the garage to the yard.  However once I place the tractor in the shade of the oak tree the babies LOVE having grass under their feet.  They immediately went nuts and looked like they were having so much fun.  They also have started to explore the second floor of the chicken tractor where some of them will hang out from time to time.

Sunday also was a day I had to prep for the Memorial Day race I was timing.  Things were complicated by the 5:30 Tarpons football game we were going to.  I needed to make sure most of my race to do’s were covered before heading to the game.  We actually left early for the game as we wanted to make a couple pit stops along the way at Rural King and Miromar Outlets which is next door to the stadium.  We stepped inside the arena just before they started with the national anthem.

The arena appeared to be the least full of any of the three games we attended so far.  I would be surprised if there were even 500 rear ends in the seats.  The Tarpons were playing some team from Georgia whose 1-6 record indicated that they were not very good.  Once I saw their QB I understood why.  This guy was the fattest quarterback I ever saw in uniform.  He would have been fat for a lineman.

In addition to his girth he was short, probably the shortest player on offense which really stacked the deck against him.  Almost every single pass he threw had a big arc on it, the type of trajectory you use for a corner route or a long bomb.  The passes had no zip on them whatsoever.  The end result of this was him getting picked off repeatedly by Tarpons defenders.

The game was a blowout from the very start.  We left early due to race prep yet to be done but the final score was an absolutely ridiculous 92-12.  The most points scored and biggest margin of victory in Tarpons history.

This year was targeted as a step up in the Tarpons history.  They joined a new league that supposedly had more/better teams.  I have not seen anything different in the level of play on the field and the continued dismal attendance numbers make it seem impossible that the team continues to exist beyond this season.  It HAS to be bleeding money.

The entire night the Tarpons did not attempt a single extra point, instead opting for two point conversions.  I joked to Cindy that it may have been a deliberate cost savings mandate from the owner since any ball that goes into the stands is allowed to be kept by the fans.  The funny thing is the odds of that penny pinching mandate being true are pretty good.

Crawling out of bed at 4:15 Monday morning did not feel great but it never does.  We opted to leave loading the truck as an early morning chore so we had to get up and cranking immediately.  The race was being held at the location of the water park so we at least did not have a huge drive to get there.    Everything related to the race went rather smoothly.  I really had no major bumps in the road at all, just how I like it.  It also was the last race where I will be timing with the Ipico equipment which should be swapped out by the time our next race rolls around on the 4th of July.  Between now and then I have a lot of work to do getting familiar with the new equipment.

Once we got back it was post race duties followed by some more odds and ends. One of those was getting around to replacing a section of the trim board in the lanai.  When the pool was added on to the house the old screening/framing of the lanai was ripped out.  I covered that opening with a border of painted 2×6 boards back then.  Well a couple months ago I noticed the bottom of one of the boards looked odd.  When I pressed on the area with a finger it immediately collapsed, the wood underneath was severely rotted.  When I did a knock knock test on the board it appeared the rot only extended maybe 6-8 inches from the bottom.

I decided that instead of replacing the entire board which would have had additional complications, I would try just cutting out the bad portion of the board and “splice” in a replacement section.  I went out and bought a small hand saw, something I did not own believe it or not.  I did my best to keep my cut straight and level.  My best wasn’t good enough.  The cut was straight enough but not very level meaning the replacement piece had a small gap.  Luckily a generous application of wood putty and some sanding should make my boo boo less of an eye sore.

Late Monday afternoon we headed down to the running club Memorial Day picnic, a festivity Cindy and I have participated in annually.   This year the picnic was not at the private beach it has normally been held at.  Instead it was held at Lowdermilk Park which is a beautiful place but also heavily utilized by the general public.  Obviously the cozy, exclusive feel the event used to have was gone.

The weather was not very good by 4PM, most of the time it was either raining or looking like rain.  Luckily the club brought some of their pop up shelters to provide additional dry real estate.  The change in venue did seem to bring additional people out for whatever reason.  It seemed like more people were there than past years but of course if you know me and my view of social situations, more does not normally translate to better in my book.

For most of the time Cindy and I were hanging with some of our friends from the club in one of the outlying tents.  I drank enough beer to take the edge off.  There wasn’t much auxiliary entertainment going on besides food, drink, and an MP3 collection from somebody’s phone playing on the PA system that was borderline maddening at times.  Cindy and I threw around my vintage, falling apart black XFL football for a little while but the vast majority of the time was just hanging out.  Overall the picnic was fun but I am holding out hope next year it returns to it’s former venue.

Yesterday we took Lola to her vet appointment.  Even though we had the cat carrier with to take her into the vet, the entire ride she spent on Cindy’s lap.  Lola has become incredibly docile and seems to absolutely love being held, petted, and scratched.  She makes noises that sound like purring when she is getting attention.

So when the vet comes in the first thing she says is although she specializes in avian medicine, it is a subset of medicine that doesn’t really include chickens, she deals more with conventional pet birds.  She said she might see 3-4 chickens a year.  Even so she was willing to help us best she could.

We gave her the background on Lola.   The vet was able to pull off what was identified as chicken lice from one of her feathers and was later able to do a stool test after Lola did her business in a towel.  The stool test revealed she had parasites which in a weird way was a good thing, compared to potentially having Marek’s disease.  A parasitic issue can be treated conventionally.

We left Lola at the vet for a couple hours while she waited a call back from a chicken expert to see if we could get a clarification about the possibility of her still having Marek’s.  The call did not come back quickly so we picked Lola back up however today Cindy heard that the expert doubted Lola had Marek’s, which again is good news.  Regardless, we are still going to vaccinate the baby chicks to give them the best chance of a healthy and long life.

Both Cindy and I had hoped yesterday would give us a chance to relax for a period of time since we got to do little of it in the prior three days.  I eventually got some WoW time in but Cindy was still busting it for most of the day with mostly chicken related tasks.  It gave me an appreciation of just how many little things can easily consume lots of time.  I am very lucky that Cindy loves to stay busy. 🙂

If you aren’t a Stern fan the next few paragraphs will mean nothing to you, feel free to jump ahead.

So I have been a Stern show listener since the late 90’s.  I jumped right on board and started paying my monthly fee to Sirius when he left terrestrial radio back in 2006, I enjoyed the show that much.  The first few years on satellite were awesome.  Being freed from the constraints of regular radio resulted in some incredibly different, creative and entertaining content.

The start of the decline was when Stern announced he was no longer doing 5 days a week, the show would now only run Mondays-Thursdays plus the nearly two months of vacation they take on top of that.  When that first reduction in content was announced I recall ranting about it pretty hard.  However upon reflection the reality was Howard was approaching 60 years old and he certainly has earned the right to work as much or as little as he wants.

Well the last 3-4 years have seen a further reduction in the content being provided by the two Stern channels on Sirius.  The list of cuts is pretty staggering.  Almost all of the one off shows that used to run on 101 are gone.  Instead they have filled 101 with almost nothing but reruns, except for the occasional Riley Martin show or Jay Thomas (whom I find un-listenable)

Howard TV, the video part of the show that provided the visual portion of the entertainment experience was shut down with little to no explanation on air from Howard.  The departure of the tv content meant the departure of a number of people whose on air personalities were entertaining and interesting as well.  Despite my dislike of his political views, I really miss hearing Scott DePace on air among others.

The Howard News team has been slowly pruned back as well, their staff and on air minutes have dwindled down to next to nothing.  John Leiberman, who is extremely good, had his own short daily show that also vanished for some unknown reason.  Lisa G, another long time news crew member departed recently, again with little to no on air discussion about the reasons.

Finally, Howard trimmed yet another day off his broadcasting schedule, now only doing live shows Monday-Wednesday.  Having only 3 days has had some additional side effects besides the obvious shortage of live content.  The shows have become overly interview-centric.  Howard is a good interviewer and for the most part the interviews are interesting but they take up way too much show time now that there are only 60% of the broadcast hours there used to be.  The best part of the show was the unscripted interactions between Howard and the staff.  There just is not much time to allow those type of interactions to develop when you have two or three celebrity interviews lined up every show.

Speaking of celebrity interviews, they made another recent change that made no sense.  In an effort to offer fans at least a little more live content the channels put on The Wrap Up Show where topics from that day’s show are discussed.  The Wrap Up Show used to be a round table of various Stern staffers discussing/arguing various points.  It was funny and entertaining to hear the staff be able to expand on their points of view while not being under the ADD arm of Howard who runs out of patience quickly when anyone other than himself is talking.

Some genius totally scrapped that format.  Now the Wrap Up Show consists of Gary and John talking to random “celebrities”, most of which the audience knows little about, each day about the show.  It totally removed any enjoyment I got from TWUS.  I have no interest in hearing some 3rd party I know little to nothing about who happens to like the show talk about it.  Give me more Sal, Ronnie, Richard, JD, and the rest of the back office crew.  Even on their worst day they are funnier than what TWUS has been putting on air nowadays.

There are many more examples of subtractions from the show (why no discussion of Tim Sabean leaving, interns, Jackie, Bubba) I could lay out but you get the drift.

Howard is approaching the end of his second 5 year Sirius contract and as he usually does, he has been waffling about his intentions to sign back up.  He is now something like 61 years old so it would seem to most that would be a good time to call it quits.  I am starting to come to that same conclusion but not because I don’t think Howard still has “it”.  He still has all the tools/staff at his disposal to make great content.  But if his intentions are to become more and more like a dirtier version of Barbara Walters while pulling back on all the other parts of the show that brought us all so many laughs in the past I am just not that interested.  It’s frustrating to me that despite his clear intent to produce less live content personally, Howard seems unwilling to let other members of his staff step in to fill the void.  Man I would love to see/hear a Sal and Richard show.

One much shorter show related rant has to do with Survivor, a show I still enjoy and had it’s 30th season finale on Wednesday.  I don’t understand why they decided to make the finals of the show three players instead of two several years ago.  It dilutes the ending of the show and pretty much everytime, one of the three people in the finals gets zero votes.  I would love to know how the producers of the show think 3>2 in this scenario.  I can’t imagine any explanation that makes sense.

Last night we did the big integration of the two sets of chicks.  When I got home Cindy was inside the chicken run that has been in the garage.  She was trying to attach some plastic netting to allow us to flip the run upside down and use the netting as a retractable roof.  She had been working hard in cramped spaces and was not having fun.

Perhaps that is why she did not immediately warm up to my alternative suggestion of carting the main chicken tractor up to the garage and letting all 11 chicks hang out there.  After all they will be living in the tractor for around another month yet outdoors so I figured it would be good to get them used to it.  Like I said Cindy at first was skeptical since it was not quite as long as the chicken run.  I told her I was positive it would be enough space for the chicks plus it has the deluxe second level coop accommodations they can hang in as well.

I carted the coop up to the garage from the back yard and we worked on getting it ready.  Once it was set up we first let the older chicks in.  They have been in the chicken tractor outside a few times so it wasn’t a big deal to them.  When we added the younger chicks in things got interesting.  At first we were very surprised, a couple of the younger chicks were actually acting aggressively towards the older, bigger ones.  Later on some of the older chicks were picking on the younger birds.   Despite the squabbles I thought it actually could be more dramatic.  All of the chicks shared food/water side by side at one point or another so long term I think they will be fine.  At this point there seems to be a clear light chick/dark chick segregation going on.  The five youngsters and six older chicks mostly group up with their own flock.  Cindy and I can’t wait till it’s one big happy feathered family.

I am looking forward to my four day long Memorial Day weekend.  Having 4 days off gives me time to get stuff done and still be able to stretch out and smell the roses, or play WoW.

Yesterday at the gym I resumed running at the gym for the first time in nearly two months.  My sore/stiff right knee which still is not 100% has been the culprit.  Running a little more than two miles on the treadmill required much more effort than I could believe.  I felt pretty miserable from start to finish, despite running at a slow pace that used to be child’s play for me when I was running twice a week and in much better cardio shape.

During the run I felt some deep, mild pain in the joint which was not unexpected.  It wasn’t severe enough to cause a limp so I kept going.  During the last minute of the run where I briefly ratcheted up the speed of the treadmill to 8mph I felt like I was ready to have a grabber.  I can only hope this is just the painful to start to a slow return to a regular running routine.  Today I woke up with a mildly sore knee which was overshadowed by a much more painful lower right quadrant of my back.  I was walking around like the house like I was an old, old man this morning.  My gym bag is packed and ready to go today anyway.  As you approach 50 years old working through aches and pains is so commonplace that it just fades into the background.

I put in to take next Tuesday off, giving me a glorious four day holiday weekend.  Part of the reason for this is my Memorial Days are pretty busy the last few years.  I have a race to time first thing in the morning and then in the afternoon is the running club picnic which typically involves lots of drinking.  Having a recovery day Tuesday will make enjoying myself Monday more plausible.

And finally a cute pic of the older chicks.  Hopefully today we will integrate them with their week younger sisters that are living in the guest bathroom.

Yesterday I was reminiscing with my good friend and volleyball partner extraordinaire, Rich about our 1999 Pottstown Rumble win in the BB division.  He asked me if I still had the write up I did about it.

The page that had the link to it had a 404 error so I manually found the write up and sent the link to Rich.  I reread the recap as well.  It brought back the magic memories of the day where we outlasted a field of more than 120 teams to take the top spot.  Well Rich, some 16 years later decided to write up his own recollection of that day along with a general overview of our days as a volleyball doubles team.  Rich is blessed with strong writing skills along with a pretty remarkable ability to recall minute details of events that occurred long ago, a gift I do not possess.

Well anyway, with Rich’s permission, I am posting his recollection of that epic day, enjoy.

Another Point of View – My Recollection of the 99 Rumble Win

Shawn and I had been serious partners the year before, and on various quads teams and sixes a year earlier, but it was right about here that we, through repetition, became very in tune to each other’s habits, coverages, and abilities as double’s partners.

I had various partners for tournaments prior to, during and after our run together with some success, but never was I to match up with someone who was so like me in certain game aspects, while so complimentary in others. Both these factors wound up being exactly what I needed to excel in the doubles game. Both Shawn and I at the time were tall, athletic types who took on volleyball later in life (for me, at age 28 or so), and subsequently didn’t have any formal training on teams to develop skills. Neither Shawn nor I was comfortable hand-setting, so about 90 percent of our sets were bump sets, even when there was a ton of time to square up to a ball to hand set. Neither of us, in spite of our height, was an exceptional blocker, and as a result, we would rarely commit to blocking, instead relying on quick reads and throwing block signals at the last possible moment, with the down person running a best guess defense. I would say in these years, we would block at most 25 percent of the time, falling out of blocks and doubling down at mid-court, challenging hitters to beat us that way. We never spoke of these unorthodox decisions; it just wound up being what we did, letting our reaction and athleticism dictate our success or failure. I’m sure we were unlike most any team our opponents encountered, and probably, if given time, could be dissected easily.

However we differed in fundamental ways that, as I look back made our play so interesting. Shawn, if asked would say his best feeling in a game would come when he smashed a ball down so hard it would bounce 15 feet in the air through whatever defense was put up. I on the other hand felt best when someone like Shawn on the other team would hit like that, yet I would dig the ball clean. He wanted to punish; I wanted to rob them of their best effort. That kind of chemistry was a magic that only we shared. I had good twitch reflex back then, and would play a step back and lunge forward. Shawn stayed back a bit more, and whereas I would cover more than half the court in the front, he would do so in the back. This resulted in digs for him that gave him time to run up on approach, and my digs would offer me little approach and become more a finesse game when I had to hit.

Shawn had a powerful outside hit. We were both lefties, and he preferred weak side. If his timing was on and the sets were there, he could hold his own against any hitter I remember us facing. He rarely did anything else, a slugger through and through. But when it works it works, and I would bump set and scamper to dig blocks which most always would come on my side anyway since he hit angle more times than not. But he was hard to block. I didn’t have near the strength or form. I could hit, but needed a better set, was more prone to be blocked and I’m sure I hit line as often as cross. I relied on placement to supplement, and this also kept my body a little fresher for running around like a nut. I was forced to watch how the other team played, and adjust my game as I saw habits. I can’t say this was strategy by design, rather it was to supplement shortcomings. Shawn was the stronger of us two, but as is the strategy in doubles, the weak person gets most of the serves and has to do most of the siding out, so it was always important to me that I at least looked as imposing as Shawn, so even if I didn’t have the raw power, it would take other teams at least a game to figure it out. Not that I was a slouch by any means, but that’s how doubles works.

Shawn was a competitor. He wanted to win badly always, and provided us the drive to win. I had more of a casual mentality, seeing games as more of a challenge than anything else, and whereas I liked winning, never had a killer instinct. I think maybe I did want to win just as much, but never had confidence in my abilities frankly, and pawned it off as if I didn’t care as much. I guess there’s some psychology to look into there. Sure, we would talk each other up when we got into ruts, as is bound to happen throughout the day or the season, but we were neither the type that yelled at each other (I had some partners like that, and my response to being yelled at was a basic, F you, it’s only a game shutdown) Shawn knew how to deal with me, and keep me interested in the win. I never thought we were the best team on the net; he ALWAYS thought we were. Looking back I probably was playing above my level in a way to prove to him that I could do it.

Finally, Shawn was a preparer. He had the tent, the cooler, the multiple balls, the Oakley’s and the spare Oakley’s ,the towels, medicine, bandages, braces, food, chairs, a case of water, and the wife who took pictures and movies all day and pretty much every comfort there was. He even registered us. I, in turn brought a towel, sunglasses and a spare shirt. I travelled light. I never thanked him for all that stuff. Thanks, Shawn.

I had a light stomach, when I played, which led to problematic fatigue if matches lasted too long. I would drink Gatorade and water, but normally any food would make me sluggish and feel worse. If events offered food, I would need to eat sparingly, and never unless we had some serious down time. I remember for the Rumble, I brought a bag of Smarties candy. That’s more than I usually brought, content on riding the day out and eating when we were done. Shawn and Ali packed enough supplies to eat for 3 days. I believe one of the secret factors on my part for the 99 Rumble was that it lasted so long..from 6 AM to 10 PM, and we had such a lull between pool play and playoffs, somewhere in the neighborhood of 3 hours, that I actually had the time to eat a full meal, hydrate, and digest. Sure we were stiff from waiting, but the day was so hot and humid that it didn’t take long to stretch out again. And boy was it hot that day.

I’d love to write about our finals match being this epic, hard fought battle of attrition, but truthfully, it was anything but that. We really just played consistently, while the other team imploded. I can’t offer a reason why it happened, and frankly I remember in my eyes conceding the win before we began, as this team looked far better than any team I had seen all day, and our semi-final match was such a war. They were young guys who obviously played ball in high school and/or college, with soft handset ability and an arsenal of presumed tricks and power. I was running on a reserve tank of adrenaline by that time, and my effort was far more robotic. I remember telling Shawn before the game that we could be proud just being here this far, and that there would be no shame in losing. How’s that for a booster speech? He looked at me and gave me a “What the fuck, we can win it! Do you want to lose to them ?” reply which is just what I needed. I hated the other team. I hated how they looked, how they acted, and I hated their gaggle of annoying friends that stayed to watch them win. I wasn’t normally that way, so it took a certain attitude to make me delight in another team’s misery. And I remember, after one point we got, where I did a reverse bump at the net on a wayward ball that was at a hard angle and they didn’t even try for it, that, “Hey we’re at 7-1. It would really take us falling apart at this point not to win this”, and how confusing, somewhat frightening and surreal that felt. “Don’t over-think it, Rich….let them make mistakes…Shawn’s serving hard and in…just don’t fuck up, and play consistent”, that was what was racing through my mind. Consistancy…pass the ball as precise as you can..keep your feet light…be ready…I hope this is over soon….

The real game, the real finals was in fact our semi-finals match. We had just come off beating a team that we lost to a year ago, that I was proud to have beaten now in the playoffs, and anything after that point was just gravy to me. This new team was a wicked combo, of a 40 year old guy who had the skills of our friend Brian Eisele, a cerebral player (and well-respected mentor) if ever there was one, and a 20 something athlete guy who ran the back, played defense well, and could hit out of anywhere. The older guy happily fed the younger guy, and neither was weak so there was no better play in most circumstances. That, and the encroaching darkness meant that it was easy to lose points that otherwise we shouldn’t have, and the breaks didn’t start out going our way. We were asked if we wanted to move under the lights when it was about 9-6 and we were down. That’s only 2 points of wiggle room. And I remember at that moment, and only that moment ever in my career that I vowed to myself to play my absolute hardest. Without exaggeration, I believe we faced at least 12 match points during our comeback, and held up to the insane pressure that is on to execute perfectly to keep it going. We didn’t waver from our normal routine, we just tried that little bit harder, and that was what was needed.

We were in the center court under the lights; the first and only time I ever wound up there. It was funny in general, earlier in the day there were literally thousands of people at the Rumble, with stands at center court, music blaring, announcements being made over the loudspeaker, and a ton to do and see during your down time. There were food stands, a massage tent, and an apparel stand for souvenir wearables. It was a carnival sports atmosphere; the biggest I’ve ever been part of. People would stop by our tent to check on our progress, we would go visit others as well…I even remember a friend of mine, Rod, swinging by to tell us he just completed his first skydiving jump there in Pottstown earlier in the day. Plenty of sight-seeing and people-watching. One by one though, as the day closed out, so did the people, and one by one coolers were packed up and drug out and well-wishes and good lucks were given, the tents were closed down, until now, the one time we were in the big time, center court, there were only about thirty people left in the entire place, and only about ten were paying any attention to us…the rest closing up shop, and readying for the co-ed day that followed on Sunday. Our division was huge, and by the time we were forced to play our best ball, we were left almost alone to do it on a hot, sterile, and totally quiet night. We were the only game playing anymore. If you were the type who played to showcase for the masses, this wasn’t the place to be. It was easy, in fact, to start wondering what the point of it all was, if you dared to stop long enough to reflect.

I’m sure there were many, many moments that were inspiring, but this was the one play that sticks out in my mind for me, if I could replay one in my life. Facing a match point, Shawn belted one line, or more line than normal to side us out…hell, maybe it was a bad set of mine and he poked it, and they came back over in one or quick two, over his head as he came down at the net, into the corner behind him. I don’t know if it was cheap or not, whether he hit it that hard and that was the result, or if they were trying to get things over with then and there. Either way, it was match point and would count. It was in the back 3 foot by 3 foot corner. If you’ve never played, when your partner comes down at the net and the ball is coming back over, that whole court is yours. And the court at that moment is a very big place. I got to that ball. I don’t know how we sided it out, if Shawn went over in 2 from whatever I did, or if we had time to set it up, or what. It wasn’t some crazy kind of sand dig that sent me diving or flying either, and if I bothered to look for it, I’m sure it wouldn’t be anything for a highlight film. My momentum took me off the court quite a bit and to the colored flags that surrounded center court. I remember as I was running to that ball, looking at Shawn for a split second when I started tracking it, and shoulders slumped as he was turning around, clearly the visible tell that he believed we were beaten. I would have yelled something like Go! Or Got it! normally, but I was running diagonally across the court, and when I did get wrists on the ball, hooked it high up and back somewhere, I barely got out a grunt, more like just a nasal Brahma Bull exhale. As I spun, I saw Shawn tense back up and come to life when he knew there was still work to do, and now it was on him. It was more the one moment I executed coverage on something unconventional and unexpected because I really, really wanted to win. “If we lose, I don’t want it to be on this ball…because the only reason would be because I was too lazy to run this one down.” (at least this is how I remember it….time has a way of playing tricks, and if this wasn’t game point, I’d be surprised, but not surprised…but it certainly did happen)

Anyway, the game raged on into the night, and finally I dug a championship point on their attempt to side out, but it wasn’t controlled and looked to be a high straight drop onto the net on Shawn’s side. And he reached up and knuckled it; a super smart move, just enough to make the older guy flounder. It was a brutal game, and one that I’ll never forget. We were so tired, and there was still one to go…

And then we won it all. It was a short lopsided game in comparison. We weren’t stellar. We were composed. We didn’t show off, or act up, or behave foolishly. We were tired, and that probably was a saving grace, as there was little left for me to have any real nervousness in a finals of an event this size. All that was left was the robotic approach of passing yet another serve, lining up to hit, getting back to position…looking at eyes and hand angles. But truthfully, they hit into the net a lot, couldn’t handle our serves, and I don’t really remember getting bombarded in any way. They didn’t have a finesse game, or didn’t break it out, and the one knucklehead lost his composure and cost them everything. His partner wasn’t great either, but couldn’t handle the other guys’ outrage and mistakes. The game point serve was Shawn’s crowning moment as a player. He changed up his serve to the rage boy and picked on his partner who was sliding over to help out.

To relive it, I was at the middle of the net, crouched and flashing some meaningless hand signal, both Shawn and I knowing full well I had no intention of blocking anyone and was soon to fall back.

“This”, I muttered.

Shawn replied “Yeah” so quickly, it was apparent to me at least that he wasn’t even pretending to be looking anymore, not that it mattered. So I stared ahead at their faces, watching the angry guy who was gearing up for the tough topspin cannon serve that was to follow. His buddy was a step away from center by now since his friend was having such trouble.

“Serve.”, I heard from behind me.

And then the strangest thing happened. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the ball hit, at least 3 quarters in on the line to my left, at about half court on their side. I wasn’t even looking there. Shawn had floated one in; probably the first and only time all day. I was looking at them, and when I glanced at it, and back at them, they both kind of grimaced or smirked and turned around. My mind raced quizzically…Did I have the score wrong? It wouldn’t be that surprising. Back then in the sideout scoring days, it was easy to lose track. No. Weren’t they ready? Was there some timeout? They had seemed ready. Did the ball hit the net? I should have heard it more than anyone if it did. I looked back, bleary and said, “What?”

Shawn had this glazed look and a bit of a bemused chuckle. About as subdued and anti-climactic as it could be uttered, he said, “Dude, we won.”

There was no cannon going off; no chorus of cheers, no fireworks… just the quiet, hot night.

I was the last one on the court to know it was over, and I saw the ball hit. That’s how fooled they were.

I don’t think we bothered shaking their hands afterwards. There were no kind words for them. We won the night.

Shawn and I gave each other the double-high five, which is all the more two men can show that kind of congratulatory mood, although if I had to do it again, it warranted the back slap man-hug, but we were sweaty and who wants to remember that? I was proud, and it felt strange, and didn’t really sink in until I was talking about it on the way home. It wasn’t as if anyone saw any of this, and I knew no one would want to hear a self-serving recap (such as this); as a matter of fact, the only real reply we ever gave to those who knew we were playing, was “Yeah, we won it”, so this feeling would wind up being the reward. We each won volleyballs I think, which was pretty piss poor if you ask me for all the entry fees and teams. But trophies were made for us anyway, and I keep mine on my dresser to this day.

In closing, and this is more reminiscent of a brief volleyball career of mine in the rear view mirror, I like to think about something a friend of ours, Jim, recalled reading about the dynamics of teams, and how it affected me. He read that successful volleyball teams have unwritten roles for the players (we all played triples a bunch and quads), and we fit in these categories. The Stud (Shawn), who was the raw power guy other teams feared, who we lived and died by, the Field General (Jim), who strategized and used his knowledge of the game to work the team and exploit weaknesses, and the Stabilizer (Me). And the Stabilizer definition may not mean much to some, but became my mantra from then on in. The Stabilizer (or so I am paraphrasing) was rarely the reason a team won a match, or a tournament…..but he was never the reason they lost. I could not have been happier in that role, and hope that as we look back to those days of our wayward youth, that those who were in the mix remember me as just that.

I’d put this up there as one of my life’s favorite days.

Yesterday was my 6 month dermatology check up.  Since I have had basal cell skin cancer cut off over a half dozen spots on my body I have to get checked out pretty often.  These appointments involve me stripping down to my underwear and having my skin examined under a bright light.  The only spot that I mentioned to him that felt odd was a dry patch between my shoulder blades.  He said it did not look like anything cancerous.  I told him that I do regular barbell squats and I wondered if what I was feeling was the end result of the bar grinding into the area.  He said that was the likely culprit.  I was surprised and pleased that this appointment for some reason did not include pulling my boxers open to take a glance at the skin in those areas.

Last night I took another shot at pulling one of the rollers out of the patio slider.  It was a bit tougher than I thought it should be but I eventually got one out.   I then turned to Amazon, looking for replacements.  I quickly discovered there are MANY varieties of door rollers.  Not only did I need to find something that looked the same, it had to have the same measurements.  It took quite while to find what appeared to be an exact match but I finally did so.  Four new rollers should be arriving Friday courtesy of free Amazon Prime 2 day shipping.

Very soon we are going to be integrating the 5, week younger chicks with the 6 older ones.  The plan is to let them all hang in the chicken run in the garage for a couple weeks until we move them outside to the chicken tractor.  Of course this integration has to be closely monitored to make sure none of the smaller chicks are beat up on by the older birds.

The six older chicks seem to have very little issues in their pecking order, everyone seems to get along.  The five youngsters seem to have more issues, perhaps partially due to the cramped living quarters that have been in. Jaina, the cornish hen is a pig.  She literally will eat non-stop if you let her.  She is almost double the size of the other chicks in her group.  She has no problem throwing her weight around, often plowing over the smaller chicks if she feels like it.

Stephy, the most visually interesting chick of them all is very aggressive and energetic.  She seems to enjoy jumping on top of the heads of the other chicks randomly.  She is an adept jumper/flapper.  This morning she was able to get her head over the edge of the bin on one attempt.

Pumpkin is my favorite chick out of all 11.  She is one of the smallest but also the most docile and friendly.  If I put my hand into the bin palm up in front of her she will hop on without issue.  I can then just let her perch on my hand on my lap for as long as I want, she is quite content as long as we stay within close proximity of the rest of the chicks.  For whatever reason all of the chicks get freaked out if they are taken too far away from the rest of the flock.

Take a peek at the next blog post too.

For years the sliding door that leads out to the pool area has been a sticky pain in the ass.  Pulling it open requires full engagement of your arm and back muscles.  Now of course the cause of this are worn out rollers.  In the past I never was motivated enough to do a proper fix, which would be roller replacement.  Instead I would just shoot the rollers with WD-40 which offered some short term relief but long term just added to the problem as the WD40 gave dirt and sand more opportunity to adhere to the rollers.

Well I have finally decided I want to fix the problem the correct way by replacing the rollers.  I looked online and found there are several different designs of sliding doors and the rollers they utilize.  I popped one of my sliders out last night with the hope of pulling one roller out so we could take it to Lowes to match it up.  Well I was unsuccessful in my initial attempt to extract a roller.  The design of my slider door requires me to pop the lower frame where the roller is housed off to gain access.  Despite having both frame bolts out I could not get the frame to pop loose despite using some considerable impact.  I decided to take a timeout and attempt extraction again tonight after I do some more research.

Cindy spent a good portion of yesterday giving Lola the chicken equivalent to a spa day, trying to address her health issues.  When I got home Cindy went out with me to check on Lola again.  It was amazing just how much Lola allows Cindy to handle her now.  It’s literally like she was a dog or a cat.  Lola actually appears to want to be held and petted at this point.

Seeing this sort of connection with an animal that the majority of the population sees as little more than a food source was touching.  It also reminded me why I no longer partake in the cruel business of mass meat production where animals like this are routinely treated to an existence of nothing but suffering.

When I got home from work Friday we had to change and head right back out to attend the beach wedding service for our next door neighbor’s daughter.  The service was held at Delanor Wiggins State Park, a beach I have not been to in ages.  I was somewhat surprised that even at 6:30 PM there was someone at the guard shack collecting six dollars to park, it seemed sort of lame. Evidently this is a popular wedding location, in total there were three weddings taking place.  It took us awhile to find the correct location, we walked up a couple minutes after the service had started.

It was a very small gathering with two rows of chairs that may have added to roughly 20 total.  Almost everybody that was there had traveled all the way down from Michigan for the wedding, including the bride and groom.  Despite us driving through rain to get there, the weather by the coast was good.  The service was brief but very beautiful with the Gulf of Mexico visual backdrop along the peaceful sounds of the small waves breaking behind the couple.

After the vows were exchanged we headed out ahead of everyone else who were still doing the traditional post wedding meet and greet.  The reception was back at our neighbors house and there was stuff that still had to be set up.  We said we would get back and get a head start on it which our neighbors appreciated.

Cindy and I got back and buzzed around the neighbors house setting up tables, food and drinks.  We were supervised by the neighbor’s daughters dog, Cosmo.  By the time people started showing up we had things set up pretty well which Cecelia really appreciated.  I had already drank one beer and started on another to help lubricate the gears in my normally rusty social skills.  In addition to a large stock of alcohol there was a large collection of rich, mostly homemade food which I indulged in heavily. Cindy and I had a nice time hanging out with the members of the wedding party and other guests.  We even brought over the last of the homemade moonshine we had since Xmas.  It was a big hit. We wound up staying much later than I would have predicted.  Cindy and I didn’t actually fall asleep until after midnight, sheesh.

On Saturday morning the dogs woke me up at 6:40 am, which was very unappreciated by me.  I let them out and then did something very uncharacteristic, went back to bed.  The combination of drinking, eating and staying up so late was enough to put my ass back in bed where I stayed until I woke back up after 9am.  Cindy had been up for at least a couple hours getting stuff done while I snoozed away.

Once I got up I didn’t wait long before heading outside to weed whack.  Because of sleeping in I felt like I was behind schedule, a feeling that resonated with me most of the day.  Later in the morning we had both sets of chicks outside at the same time.  The older chicks were in the chicken tractor, the younger ones in the chicken tractor run.  For the young chicks it was their first time running around outside.  It was quite funny seeing their reactions.  For awhile they just sort of stood around looking at everything, stunned that there was more to the world than the blue walls they have been looking at for the last couple weeks.

Getting the bigger chicks out of the garage enclosure was quite the task.  Since it is fully enclosed except for one end Cindy had to crawl inside of it and try to corral the chicks who were not cooperative at all.  I had to come up and help her after I finished changing the oil in the Prius to get the last couple chicks moved outside.

One of the new set of chicks has been growing at an alarming rate.  At first Cindy thought something was wrong with her until she read up on her breed, cornish, on the internet.  Cindy never thought about the breed being connected to cornish game hens, a delicacy on some menus.  Evidently this breed has a voracious appetite and will eat pretty much non-stop if you allow them to.  Cindy couldn’t believe that many cornish have very short 4 week life spans before they are processed into the food chain.  Cindy started pulling the food from the bin on a scheduled basis to try to get the chick’s gluttony under control.  The chick is so big that she seems labored simply walking around.

We also continue to have issues with Lola, who again had hard crop issues over the weekend.  It’s amazing how she has become a lap chicken, where she almost appears to enjoy being held while Cindy massages her.  She makes cute little noises of approval the entire time she is being held and rubbed.  It seems like something chicken related needs to be attended to most times of the day right now.

Cindy and I did an errand run with Nicki and Sadie in tow.  They love to hang out in the back of the Prius although I am sure it isn’t quite as fun as the party van accommodations were for them.  We made our near weekly visits to both Home Depot and Rural King. It seems like chicken and home improvement supplies are always needed.

Saturday night Cindy and I had our second Tarpons arena football game of the year to attend.  The game was nociably lesser attended than the first game which was sparsely attended to begin with.  Our section of roughly 100 seats were literally only occupied by Cindy and I.  This fact made it more annoying when a ticket nazi decided to flex his ticket verification muscle.

To get to our seats we showed our tickets to the woman at the entry to our section.  We already knew where we were going.  So we sat down and were chowing down on the pizza slices we bought.  All of a sudden the seat attendant to our left, who was not responsible for our section walks over and asks us if he could see our tickets.  He apparently must have thought we looked like seat jumpers.  We showed him we were legitimate but both felt annoyed by the intrusion.  The ridiculousness of even giving a shit of who sat where when the place was 90% empty made the inquisition more pointless.  When Cindy went out to grab more food she said something to our attendant about the secondary seat verification.  She said that our seats were $50 seats and she guessed he just wanted to make sure we actually paid for the primo spot.  I still felt the whole thing was outside the bounds of common sense.  At this point they should just care about having a body in a seat, regardless of how they got there.

You may recall I mentioned how cold I was at the last game due to an ice rink being underneath the playing field.  This time I dressed warmer, wearing jeans, sneakers and a hooded sweatshirt.  I still was cold.  At one point Cindy and I both had our hoods up and despite the extra layers, by the time we left both of our feet were cold.  The game itself went well, the Tarpons dominated the game which made it confusing how the Alabama Outlaws managed to get 49 points on the scoreboard.  Good thing the Tarpons put up 68.

I did find myself annoyed with the Tarpons kicker.  Despite this being a home game on a field he should be used to kicking on, he seemed unable to avoid kicking the ball into the suspended scoreboard or support beams.  He did this no less than 6 times, I kid you not.  He would tee up the ball, look at the scoreboard, look at the ball, look at the scoreboard and then kick the ball, right into the scoreboard.

On Sunday morning I wanted to get up and do the Ave Maria bike ride.  Two consecutive evenings of eating a pile of less than healthy food left me feeling like a blob.  I planned to use the same approach as last week, no gps, just ride at a comfortable level, whatever that may be.  Well that plan didn’t work so well for the ride out to the college which was almost entirely into a rather strong headwind.  I had no choice but to increase the effort level to keep things rolling at a respectable pace.  By the time we rode the 12+ miles to the entrance of Ave Maria my quads and hips were burning.

Luckily on the ride back we had that same wind at our back which made the return ride much more enjoyable.  Although my legs felt much better coming back there was no way to make the pressure points on my hands and rear end feel much better.  I found myself constantly shifting position trying to alleviate pain/pressure in one spot, only to find myself applying it to another.

When we got back I jumped in the pool to both cool off and give Sadie one of her beloved splash sessions.  After 10 minutes of her running around while I hit her with atomic splash after atomic splash she was thoroughly soaked, and happy.  After we cleaned up we took the girls back to Ali’s place after their four night visit as part of our DD coffee run.  As always it was nice having them around to add their canine flair to our daily existence.

The rest of Sunday was pretty chill.  I did a few things but mostly WoW’d until we watched Bad Words Sunday evening.  It was a rather funny comedy but I was not a big fan of it putting children in the vicinity of very adult language and situations.  Overall it still gets a B to B+ rating, worth a rental.

Tonight we will be deviating from our normal pizza and dvr Friday night ritual that Cindy and I enjoy.  Our next door neighbors daughter is doing a vow renewal ceremony at the beach followed by a reception at our neighbors house.  Since we now have a total of 16 animals currently under our care we likely won’t be partying late into the night.

Speaking of the animals, Lola has become quite the sweetheart.  When we got our second set of chickens, which included Lola, she was the most skittish of them all, scurrying away whenever we made even the slightest move in her direction.

Cindy has had to do some crop massaging on Lola the last week or so which required Cindy to catch and hold her.  It seems like since this has occurred Lola now fully trusts both of us and makes little to no fuss when we pick her up and hold her.  This morning I opened the run to let them out and Lola almost immediately walked over and placed herself right between my feet.  I reached down and picked her up.  She seemed perfectly content as I rubbed her head and neck.

It’s a bit startling just how light she is.  When you pick Lola up she almost feels like she is hollow despite her average size.  She is literally all feathers.

Cindy has been very busy maintaining the two sets of baby chicks.  It’s a lot of work that there is no way we could have handled if Cindy was still working an 8-5 job.  Despite the labor Cindy is very content caring for the chicks, she just loves them. The week older chicks seem very happy living in the garage for now inside the chicken tractor run which gives them tons of space to run around and act crazy.  Hopefully soon we can let the younger chicks mingle with the older ones once the size difference is smaller.

This weekend we have things to do, a Tarpons game to attend and chickens/dogs to care for.  It should make for a full slate.

Where the thoughts are slim and the time is tight.