Month: June 2004 (Page 2 of 2)

Bloom Off The Laker Rose

June 14, 2004 / DB

Some NBA dominated thoughts on a Sunday evening.

Each game of the NBA Finals I’ve been struck by the irony in how things change over the course of 15 years. This time in 1989 (and 1988), I was rooting passionately for the Lakers against the Pistons in the NBA Finals. The Lakers were part of my holy pro sports trinity along with the Cowboys and Royals. This year, while not pulling with all my powers for Detroit, I am rabidly rooting for a Laker loss. I’d love for Larry Brown to get a title. Chauncey Billups is becoming one of my favorite NBA players. While the Pistons will be in the Pacers’ path for the foreseeable future, this June I’m hoping they get four wins.

My man E-Bro in NoCal told me, back in the days when Dennis Rodman was on the Bulls, to spend an entire quarter watching Rodman’s antics. He told me it was amazing how The Worm took some plays off, how hard he worked away from the ball on other plays, and otherwise rewarded your attention. Although it’s on a different level, Rasheed Wallace is approaching that level of interest. In the Pacers series, anytime he was on the court, he was yelling at someone during every dead ball. Officials. Fans. Teammates. Opponents. I don’t think it’s possible for him to keep his mouth shut for more than 10 seconds. I’d love to have uncensored access to his comments during the game as well. Bill Simmons had a great scenario in his column a couple weeks ago about how it would be fun to play Scrabble with Rasheed. You’d through down a word like “query” and ‘Sheed would stomp around the room complaining about you using crazy words like that against him. I laugh every time I think about that.

Karl Malone has a daughter in the WNBA?

Good Lord Shaq came to play in game four. While Kobe was throwing up bricks and whining, Shaq just put his head down and played his ass off until the Lakers got too far behind to keep giving him the ball.

I feel sorry that Karl Malone’s career is going to end with such a whimper. I do not feel sorry that he’s going to end his career without a title. I get so sick of “Player X deserves a title”. Horseshit. In this day and age, chances are anyone who you’re saying that about has more money than God if they’ve been playing professional sports for 20 years. They don’t deserve anything; they’ve got it pretty good already. Karl Malone played for a title three times. He got beat by the best non-center ever twice. The third time, he chained his fortune to a train wreck that was lucky to make it to the Finals before it spun out of control. There are a lot of great players who would have done anything for one chance to lose in the championship series. Karl was one of the greatest players ever. He’s not any less great without a ring, and he wouldn’t be any greater with a ring.

What’s up with NBA officials calling lane violations over and over?

As much as I love Larry Brown, he does often say things I hate in order to defend his players. He says Rasheed Wallace is “misunderstood” and only acts like he does because he “wants to win so badly”. Coming from someone who took sports far too seriously as a child and was warned many times by coaches, officials, and my mom to cool it or I’d get my ass stuck on the bench, that’s a fine message to give to the kids, Larry.

I’ll be the first to say it: Al Michaels is not a great basketball announcer. It’s as if he doesn’t understand the pacing of the game. His humorous comments he always seems to slip in at the right moment in football games all seem to come at the wrong time during NBA games. You know you’re struggling when even Doc Rivers falls silent for a few moments after you try to be funny. It doesn’t help Al that most NBA fans our age think of Marv Albert when we think of NBA playoffs. Marv has the perfect combination of intimate knowledge of the game, great grasp of history, knowing exactly how the game should be called, a terrific sense of humor (and understanding of how to use it), and the ability to get the most out of his analyst.

The previews for all of ABC’s fall shows disturb me. Wifeswap? Promos about bored housewives that look like Victoria’s Secret models? Dramas with voice overs of teenage girls telling their boyfriends it’s time to hit it while the parents are gone? In an election year, no less! Where’s Dan Quayle when we need him?

Doc Rivers: “I’ve never seen the Lakers complain about the officiating this much.” That’s because they’ve been getting every call for the past five years!

Good grief, Detroit is a win away from the title!

Time to drop some props on myself. Back in January, I set down some goals for the year. I don’t like to call them resolutions. One goal was to read between 24 and 30 books this year. Friday night, I finished off book #30. Traveling for work and having a wife who works in 18 and 24 hour chunks sure helps digest the words faster. I must tell you, though, in a year in which I’ve read a huge amount of very good books, #30 was truly special. Last week’s entry was Jonathan Lethem’s The Fortress of Solitude, a truly amazing book. Fortress was last year’s big buzz book, following on the heels of Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections and Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. Fortress is totally brilliant, not only in story but in craft. There were moments when I had to put the book down because I was so frustrated by the writing. I would read a few lines and start to think to myself, “I can never write anything this good. I shouldn’t even think about ever writing anything for public consumption again.” Fortunately, I persevered. It was a highly rewarding experience and one I recommend to everyone.

Saturday we went to the first baby shower locals are throwing for us (We had hoped for just one, but most of S’s family was out of town last weekend, so we’re doing another, family only shower, in two weeks.). There was some Kansas City representation too, as a gift from what I’ll call the Falloon Crew was waiting in our living room when I got home on Thursday. I will not confirm rumors that I’ve already placed a basketball and various KU paraphernalia in the Pack ‘n Play.

Finally, in a milestone that warrants mentioning, I was married a year ago today. Some of you may be thinking, “I must have really been drunk at your wedding, because I thought we visited in July.” Of course, we were legally married on this date last year in Kansas City. Some other milestones this week include: Wednesday the anniversary of the packers coming to our apartments. Thursday when the movers came, and we trekked east to Indy. Sunday will be Father’s Day, my birthday, and the day I spent all day on the phone yelling at the movers to get their asses here when they promised. I think that day was the beginning of my stomach problems. It aches just thinking about it. Anyway, what am I supposed to get my wife for the 1st anniversary? Paper? China? A fetus?

Wrapping Some Things Up

June 11, 2004 / DB

As I posted earlier, back home again in Indiana. Naturally, there were tornado warnings here last night, although none close to our part of the city. I’m starting to feel a little cursed. Almost four inches of rain here in Carmel this morning. It’s like Seattle, only it’s 90 with a thick layer of steam from all the water on the ground.

Yesterday was my brilliant day in the first class cabin of American Airlines. I must admit, while it was nice to get on and off the jets first, have decent if unspectacular food delivered to me, and as many Diet Cokes as I wanted (Does Roy Williams know about this?) the best part was for the first time in my life, I took a serious nap on a plane. After my 3:55 AM wake up call yesterday, I was in great need of some additional sleep. After downing my omelet, bagel, and fruit plate, I leaned my comfy seat back and promptly dropped off for two hours. Normally when I sleep on a plane, I’m wedged into my seat and wake up ever ten minutes. After about 60 minutes of that, I give up. I fell asleep somewhere over Utah and woke up 30 minutes before landing. Very nice. One thing I noticed about first class is everyone wants to have rather loud conversations on their cell phones until take off, and immediately after landing. Apparently the average first class passenger is so important no minutes can be wasted not making calls, even if they’re personal. I, on the other hand, find some deserted corner in the airport to make all my calls from.

The rest of my Portland visit was good enough. Downed some very good fish & chips Tuesday night, had some outstanding Vietnamese food Wednesday. Great beer both nights. Wednesday I drove out to Astoria, on the coast. Typically, we were socked in by clouds so another visit without seeing Mt. St. Helens. I couldn’t even see Adams or Hood on this trip, until the flight home. Along the way to Astoria is a town called Longview, which is right on the Columbia River and a huge logging town. Roads are clogged with logging trucks transporting felled trees. The asphalt is littered with chunks of lumber and bark. When you get ready to cross the river, a quick glance to either side offers nearly endless views of trees ready for processing and transport stacked along the shore. Roughly halfway to Astoria, you hit a section of road that is literally completely covered by trees. It was similar to driving through a covered bridge. Suddenly, you come to a more open section and you notice that you’re in an area that has been heavily logged. While staring in awe at the open space, I noticed a large bird floating across the road. “That’s a big hawk,” I thought. Then I snapped out of it and realized I was staring at a Bald Eagle. Extremely impressive.

We were sitting in a bar Tuesday night and heard the Pistons lead the Lakers late. We moved nearer a TV to watch, and LA promptly took the lead. We lost interest a little, until we noticed Detroit had fought back. Then they extended. This was amazing! The Pistons were going to win two in LA! Then Kobe hit the biggest shot since Jordan shoved Byron Russell. We looked at each other and said, “We’ll be able to tell our kids where we were when the Lakers won the series.” So what happened in Detroit last night was just stupid. Larry Brown’s a witch, but no way should the Pistons be making the Lakers look absolutely silly like that. I’d still bet on the Lakers to win, but all of a sudden, you can see the confidence in the Pistons that they can not only compete in the series, but they have a great shot to win. Fascinating.

For some reason, anytime I travel to the Northwest, I get a huge thrill when I hear any of the 90s grunge bands on the radio. It’s like buying a t-shirt of a sports team at the stadium where they play; there’s something extra special about hearing Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, or Everclear in their home territory. Maybe it’s because people still wear flannel there.

While we’re on the subject of music, I heard this new group Velvet Revolver a lot in Portland. Scott Weiland from Stone Temple Pilots on vocals; Slash, Duff McKagan, and Matt Sorum from Guns ‘n Roses manning three of the four instruments. Surprisingly, the styles come together quite nicely. Check them out when you have a chance.

I must sing the praises of the folks at Blogger and Google. First, a month or so back, they added comments as an included feature, offered more templates, and made some administrative changes that make running a blog much easier. Then, they offered photoblogging, which is very cool. Finally, they’ve incorporated Audioblogging as a free feature this week. I didn’t have a chance to try it out yet, but I can call into a number, record up to two minutes, and then an audio file is posted to the blog. This has been an option you can pay to have for some time; I just never figured it was worth it. I’ll try to give it a shot sometime soon to see how it works. Blogger members have been offered a chance to use Google’s new mail app in its beta format. I’m holding off, just because I have four e-mail addresses already and don’t want to add another until I know it’s a stable product. Thank you, Google Gods!

This ad war between Budweiser and Miller is stupid. First, the Miller commercials are just dumb. These are the natural progression of arguably the greatest campaign ever, Tastes Great – Less Filling? Then, AB’s response commercials are equally dumb. Miller may have been purchased by a South African company, but is it not still made in Milwaukee? Does any beer made at Budweiser plants around the world (which they used to brag about) not count as American beer even though it tastes exactly like what’s made in St. Louis? We’re at war in two countries, facing terrorist threats, about to pick a President for four years and Congress for two, and we’ve got idiotic mudslinging rather than intelligent, clever ads for beer that doesn’t even taste good. What’s the world coming to?

PDX

June 7, 2004 / DB

It’s a little concerning that the missive I began Saturday, while battling insomnia and drinking beer, is not to be found on my hard drive. Perhaps its disappearance into the ether is a sign it wasn’t worthy of your time.

I’m sitting in the historic Governor Hotel in downtown Portland. I just made a pilgrimage to Powell’s Books and managed to escape only $13 lighter. I’ve purchased books from Powell’s online and their PDX store, but this was my first trip to their world famous hub store in downtown Portland. They have something like a billion books. Well, “more than a million” according to the Portland guide book I’m looking at. Like Portland itself, it feels like a blown up version of something you’d find in a college town. The entire store smells of incense. The majority of the patrons could be described as “artsy” based on their outward appearance. Most importantly, it’s an independent bookseller and thus has great deals on new books and a significant stock of used books in outstanding condition. I purchased a used copy of The New Father, A Dad’s Guide to the First Year and two books about penguins for the Little Girlfriend. Did I mention I spent $13? The dad book alone was more than that new at traditional bookstores. I highly recommend checking Powell’s online out. Purchase more than $50, and shipping is often free.

Tornado warnings in Central Washington, according to the weather man I’m watching. Really? “If you’re in a mobile home or a vehicle, find good cover immediately.” Even in the Pacific Northwest, trailer parks are target #1.

Since I lost my draft from Saturday, I’ll summarize my brush with fame last Friday. We stopped into a liquor store to purchase a present for a friend and some O’Doul’s to take to the party for S. While paying, and making jokes with the guy behind the counter about a pregnant woman buying liquor, S kind of poked me and nodded her head behind us. I looked over my shoulder, and approaching us was the local weather hottie. She looked much different in person. The TV makeup was laid on pretty thick, her hair sprayed to concrete levels of stability. On TV, as I said last week, she appears hot in the wholesome, good looking mom kind of way. In person, she looks more like someone who’s a little older and trying hard to keep the youthful look. Blame the makeup. Also, she had this pissed off look on her face. We scampered out, trying to steal glances and not trip over ourselves. As soon as we got through the door, I asked S if she noticed what Weather Lady was buying. She said no, so we hustled to the car so we could circle back and get another look at her (Further evidence my wife rocks; she’s giving me permission to check out another woman!). We start to slowly pull through the parking lot when we see Weather Lady walking towards us. Still had an awful look on her face, large bag of purchases under her arm, kind of walking in the path of traffic. It was amusing to see three cars, all driven by men, each driver checking her out, sit and wait while she strutted across to her car. I wondered aloud if it had been an especially tough weather day (It was 80 and sunny) and she needed to go home and get loaded, which S thought was pretty funny. We did not see the 11 o’clock news to see if she was hammered or if she had the night off.

I picked up an outstanding Midwest beer sampler as well, which has been added to the log on the right.

So two weeks ago we’re at Costco and I decide to check out the office chairs, as we’re in the process of replacing mine. I’m about to sit in an especially comfy looking black leather model when a guy says, “Are you in sales?!?!” 15 minutes later, I’m not exaggerating, I finally tear myself away. I can’t tell you exactly what we talked about, although I recall meeting his wife and son and noticing my wife turned tail and disappeared rather quickly. Anyway, guy gives me his card, and asks for mine. Luckily, I don’t carry cards with me. I gave him my cell phone number (Why didn’t I just make something up?) and he said he’d give me a call sometime. No clue why. Saturday my cell phone rings and it’s some local number I don’t recognize. Thinking it’s a sales call, I let it ring through. As soon as the message indicator pops up, I dial in, and hear my buddy from Costco. He said he’s looking forward to talking to me and leaves his number. “What does he want to talk about?” asked S. “I have no idea,” I said with some concern. She thought that was hilarious. He called again Sunday. I’ve put him in my phone as Freak Boy, so I don’t accidentally answer sometime.

No matter what you thought of Ronald Reagan, his passing is obviously a huge event. I don’t have the exact words, but I saw a recent quote from Nancy Reagan that basically said Ronald had slipped to a place where they could no longer contact him. What a sad reminder of how horrible a disease Alzheimer’s can be.

Long client meetings tomorrow, followed by (hopefully) some micro brewed beer and fish & chips for dinner. Wednesday, I head out to Astoria, which is at the mouth of the Columbia River on the coast, and the spot where Lewis & Clark ended their journey. And hopefully some more beer and fish & chips that night. Thursday, I fly home first class!

Smack My Ass And Call Me Betty!

June 4, 2004 / DB

We’ve got raccoons!
Last night, I was about to sit down for a light, post gym meal while watching game five of the Stanley Cup Finals and thinking of 1500 words I could write on the brilliance of the NHL playoffs when I detected movement on our deck. Three, count ’em, three raccoons! A mother and two babies (What are they, kittens? Kits?) were wedged into the corner. The young ones were exploring, sniffing the barbecue, smelling the chair that was still pulled out from when I sat outside Wednesday afternoon, and trying to figure out what was going on with our stone Jayhawk (the same Jayhawk, mind you, that our friend the cardinal was seen eyeing suspiciously earlier in the day). I ran out to my office to grab my camera then snuck back in time to catch one of the juveniles next to the Jayhawk. As I was playing with camera settings, all three disappeared over the edge and started exploring the dug out spot our old friend Mr. Opossum has been using for the past five months. I stepped out into the sun room and tried to get a good angle for some photos, but that didn’t work.
I called S. at work and told her about the latest addition to our menagerie. “Well, you wanted wild life!” was her response. Made me think of the line in Vacation where Brian Doyle Murray tells Chevy Chase that wildlife fun is included in the price of their tents. “And as a bonus to you, Bank One has decided to include free wildlife fun with your mortgage! Congratulations!”
I sat anxiously on the back of the couch waiting for the varmints to reappear. Finally, momma stuck her head out. At first, she didn’t see me standing straight ahead of her behind the window. Eventually, my movements caught her eye. It’s crazy how feline their actions are. She dipped and raised her head, much like a cat does when trying to act tough. As the picture I’ll post shows, she sat in between two banisters with her front paws on the deck for at least five minutes. I walked back out to the sun room and tried to sneak the camera out the door, but she slipped back under the deck as soon as the door cracked. I went back into the living room and she popped out again. She soon grew bored with me and disappeared under the deck for good. A couple times one of the young ones came out and sniffed around the edge, but it seems as though they found themselves a nice place to hole up for awhile. I have no idea if the opossum is still under there. It’s been obvious since we mulched that something is digging in and out, so the raccoons very well could have been residing there for a month or more.
I did walk out onto the deck later to put cayenne pepper at the entrance of the hole (The genius of Google tells me that spreading spicy peppers may drive the critters away) and as soon as I hit the deck, I heard scurrying underneath the boards.
So let’s reset. We’ve got the biggest squirrels in the world that sound like mountain lions when the run across the roof in the morning. We’ve got a nasty old opossum. We’ve got a family of raccoons. Cardinals. Grackles. The occasional Blue Jay. Sparrows. And Robins out the ass. Life is indeed good down on the farm in Indiana.
(Note: this sweet little application Blogger has provided us to post pictures doesn’t seem to be working this morning. I’ll add pics of our furry little friends as soon as I can.)

Pacers Post-Mortem

June 4, 2004 / DB

Have I mentioned lately that the NBA sucks? I just got finished watching that travesty of a series between the Pacers and Pistons wrap up. Is there some kind of rule that no more than one person on the court at any given time is allowed to hit shots? During one exhilarating stretch tonight, the Pistons outscored the Pacers 10-2 over an 8:00 period. I know it’s apples and oranges, but I recall seeing the 2002 and 2003 Kansas Jayhawks put many a 10-2 run on teams in a matter of 90 or even 60 seconds. I thought the NBA was supposed to be the highest level of basketball. Sure, they play intense defense, but if no one can shoot, how do you really know? The Lakers, Celtics, Rockets, and Sixers of the 80s all played great defense. But they also had not just five but often seven or eight players who could score, so teams consistently scored over 100 points a game. Some say Naismith would be turning in his grave over games like tonight’s. I beg to differ. I think modern NBA ball is shockingly close to the original game. Those dudes back in Springfield, Mass couldn’t shoot! According to the Indy Star, of the ten lowest scoring playoff games since the advent of the shot clock, all have taken place since 1997 and five took place this year. And don’t get me started on Karl Malone not getting suspended for basically the same thing that Anthony Peeler had done a couple nights earlier, or a referee in Monday’s game asking how many fouls Shaq had. Really, do NOT get me started here.

As for why the Pacers lost: stupidity, youth, injuries, in that order. Ron Artest reverted to form throughout the series, really only having one good game. He continually put his head down and drove into the lane either forcing up bad shots or getting his shots blocked. He took long threes early in the shot clock before Jermaine O’Neal had a chance to set-up in the post. He used his slow-as-molasses behind the back dribble in traffic and continually had the ball stolen away. Worst of all, his flagrant foul in the final four minutes of a tie game Tuesday night was the turning point. Youth, because players like Artest, Jermaine O’Neal, Fred Jones, Al Harrington, Jamaal Tinsley, and Jonathan Bender still have so much to learn about playing consistently at a high level. The good news is the Pacers have such a stable of young players. The bad news is I think Artest, Tinsley, and Bender are the kinds of players who will always drive you mad with their inconsistency. Injuries kept Tinsley off the court much of the last two games, and rendered him ineffective the remainder of the series, plus kept O’Neal from playing at his highest level in the final two games.

At least I know how the Finals will turn out and I won’t have to watch. Larry Brown will find a way to win game one. The Lakers will win the next two. The Pistons might get lucky and win game four to even the series, but the Lakers will close things out in six. Kourageous Kobe Bryant and Shaq are too much for the Pistons to handle, even with their depth in the post. I can see Rasheed Wallace dominating Karl Malone, but I have a hard time seeing Rip Hamilton get off consistently while being guarded by Kobe.

I’ll try to edit down my storm watchers log from the weekend and get that posted later.

Finally Some New Action

June 3, 2004 / DB

What day is it anyway? I hate it when three day weekends come at the wrong time and totally mess up your routine. I’ve got a trip to Portland scheduled for next week, about a million things going on this week, and I have no idea where time went.

I’m watching the Seinfeld marathon on TBS Wednesday night and saw one of my all time favorite lines. In The Jimmy, Kramer is sharing how Dr. Whatley has turned his dental practice into an adults only office. “When they ripped that molar out, I let the expletives fly!” I’m hearing all about the Manssiere now. They just don’t make them like they used to, back when I was a kid, way back in the 90s.

A greatly edited accounting of Storm Sunday here in Indy. For the third straight summer holiday, we got slammed with bad weather. Last Fourth of July brought tornadoes and severe storms, followed by minor flooding. Labor Day brought 20 inches of rain in some parts of town. Now Memorial Day weekend is full of storms. Couldn’t have happened on a worse day, only like the biggest day ever in Indy or whatever. The World’s Biggest Single Day Sporting Event followed by an NBA playoff game. Instead of listening to the race (since it’s not carried on live television here) and watching the Pacers game, I spent at least four hours glued to the wall-to-wall coverage of the weather. Like the good Kansan I am, of course. We totally lucked out in our neighborhood. Although we could hear the sirens from across the county lines, we had nothing but torrential rains for about an hour. Very little wind, no hail, and no damage. There was supposedly a tornado spotted just five miles from our house, but the sirens never went off so I assume that was a mistaken sighting.

The southern half of the city wasn’t so lucky. As crowds left the Speedway and packed into the fieldhouse, huge storms battered the area from downtown to the south. News copters and traffic cameras showed funnel clouds, showed trees uprooted, a nursing home that had been ripped wide open, and houses that were destroyed. For someone who generally likes storms, seeing homes very similar to mine devastated was a sobering reminder of how quickly life can change. I was contemplating moving the Little Girlfriend’s room down to the basement so she never has to worry about trees crashing through the roof or her ceiling being ripped open.

I’m sad to say there are no weather personalities here that can rival Gary Lezak. He would have been going nuts with six hours of severe weather and a map lit up with warnings like election night results. Sure, we’ve got a weather hottie, but she’s more hot in the attractive mom way than the ridiculousness that can be found on Southern California newscasts. But she was out of action Sunday, and weather geeks were forced to deal with traditional, sober weathermen to guide us through the afternoon and evening.

Monday we visited some friends who had just moved into their new house over the weekend. Natasha’s mother asked if I had gone into the basement when the storms hit. “No,” I answered, “I’m from Kansas. I went outside and watched!” “We’re from Kansas too and we had one foot out the back door and the other down to the basement!” I heard a lot about Hoosier pride this weekend with the race, its surrounding events, and the playoff games. Apparently this is how Kansas pride manifests itself: bragging about being the last one into the basement when the sirens go off.

In other news, we now have diapers in our house. That really is the last step in preparation, isn’t it? Yeah, the changing table doesn’t get here for a few more days, we still have lots of day-to-day things to acquire, but when it comes down to it, once you have a crib, a few clothes, a couple functioning nipples (or stock of formula) and some diapers, you’re pretty much set if the kid decides to show up early.

Speaking of, S had her latest check up Tuesday and all continues to go well. We were really sure about positioning, so she asked her OB for a guess. He thought she is head down, although she tends to lay at an angle so her feet are over on the right side of S’s abdomen. Her favorite game now is to kick mommy’s ribs. She thinks it’s great fun! Mommy wishes she would either run out of room to move or just cut it out.

No good baby related conversations to share, although there was this gem from Tuesday that could have been kid influenced. S had been having a bit of a rough day and when ESPN flashed a shot of Tayshaun Prince during the Pacers-Pistons game, she let loose, “I just hate him. He looks like such a whiny little baby all the time. WAAAAAAHHHH!” Wow! This from someone who hadn’t watched much of the series and had probably never seen Prince in her life before the previous week. For my readers not familiar with Prince, he’s Detroit’s 6’8”, 125 small forward. He makes Reggie Miller look buff. He has a rather unfortunate complexion (lots of lingering acne), a spotty beard, and in general just isn’t an attractive cat. But he hits just enough three pointers and plays just enough defense to be a solid NBA player.

You all know I’m a geek, so I don’t mind sharing stories like this. I have recently become fascinated by the birds that entertain us on a daily basis. I’ve got my buddy the cardinal who is always flitting around just outside our kitchen window. Actually, I saw two males out there Wednesday, and saw a female for the first time in a long time as well. As a part of my fascination, I made two realizations: A) My daughter needs to know what the birds are called B) I’m a city kid and can name about five birds. So, using the free points I had accumulated in the book club I’m a member of, I ordered a bird guide. If that wasn’t bad enough, now I’ve totally geeked out and spend hours, well dozens of minutes anyway, staring out the windows trying to identify the birds and take pictures of them. The cardinal(s) are visible each day. Like most of you, we have robins out the ass. Grackles take over our yard each evening. Wednesday, a flock of Chipping Sparrows spent the better part of an hour enjoying our collection of bugs. One of the trees in our front yard has berries on it, so I’m hoping I can catch some more interesting birds there soon. I’m also working on picking just the right kind of bird feeders to put in the backyard so I can keep them coming. Like I said, geek.