After such an intense couple weeks of posting, I had to take a break and gather myself. Apparently I’ve been gathered, because here’s another post. Hooray. And as is my M.O. after a some PTO, this is probably gonna end up long and random.
It’s summer in 
On a straighter note, it’s hot as ding (ding is a fun little word that you can toss in anywhere: “Hot has ding”; “Smells like ding”; “Looks like ding”) here, with temps in the mid to upper 90’s the past several days and humid. My glasses fog up every time I leave the house/car/office. It’s the best. I can’t wait to head out west this July and spend 10 days in the mountains where humidity is as foreign as common sense in Congress. (Seriously, click on the 'Congress' link. And people expect these jokers to manage a health care system?!)
When I was but a youth, there was an ongoing struggle in my home between the forces of good and evil. Okay, not really, but there was a struggle over the television. 
My mother wasn’t a fan and my dad was (I take after dad here); during these years, sometimes the TV would end up on sabbatical in the attic for a few weeks. Anyhow, during one such break when I was 10 or so dad started reading these books to Nathan and I – the Shannara books by Terry Brooks. These aren’t little kid books either. But we loved them. We’d lay on the floor and listen as dad read for a couple hours at a time, until we fell asleep, and then we’d resume the next night. We ended going through the original trilogy in this manner – 1191 pages.
So real were the characters and so attached I became to them that I remember actually crying twice: once in the first book when Hendel died after he and Menion Leah had thwarted a secret attack at Tyrsis; the other was Helt sacrificing himself in the gear house to keep the gate shut.
Two weeks ago I finished the trilogy again. Dad sent the 25th anniversary edition to us boys. Excellent, excellent, excellent books – the classic battle of good versus evil, right versus wrong. Some people would say those battles don’t exist anymore. I just think the darkness is better disguised. Regardless, I commend these to anyone who is looking for a good read. Though don't tell my wife you're reading them because you'll be labeled "nerd".
I went through and organized my CD’s recently. I seem to do this once a year because what happens is Paula and I get our music mixed up and pretty soon all I have in my case is Michael Buble (pronounced ‘Bubble”), some hip-hop junk and Jim Brickman. Anyway, while sorting I came across a bunch of compilations that took me back; I’ve grouped them by timeline – not so much when the CD was purchased or made, but rather the memories they create invoke. The titles are profound and deep with meaning - I'm not sure if I can decipher them, but here are some highlights (featured songs from actual CD):
High School 1994-1998: (Volumes 1-3). Spacehog, Nirvana, Better than Ezra, Seven Mary Three, Third Eye Blind, Reel Big Fish, Dogs Eye View, and even one Backstreet boys song. All the good stuff (and stupid stuff) that was popular during those formidable years. I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about high school anymore, but these tracks bring it all back – the best 6 years of my life.
Fall 2002: Ltrain’s PV 58 Mix. Lifehouse, Fuel, lots of 3 Doors Down and even some rap (shout out to T-boz w/ Welcome 2
I’m Angry. Linkin Park, Disturbed, Papa Roach, Puddle of Mud and such. For those times when things weren’t panning out right – or when we were going snowboarding. Nerf, Cackifer, Slam and I each had a copy. I think the Nerf’s was titled “Girls are Gay”. But we weren’t bitter.
TFTL. What is this acronym? In the interest of absolute candor, I abashedly admit “Tunes for the Ladies”. This was a little something called mood music, my friends. As you laugh, I remind you the Buck had a bench seat, which means no pesky center console, so…yeah.
Memorial Day AZ Campout 2004. Somehow a CD that starts with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, ends with
This little poem is to the rhythm of "Jack and Jill":
Lydia climbed up the stairs,
Mom and Dad, they were so proud.
When Lydia fell down the stairs,
Mom, she screamed; Dad, he cursed; both felt awful for the rest of the day and Lydia never had to cry for anything the rest of the day because she was super-indulged the rest of the day to ease the parental guilt.
I guess that last line doesn't rhyme. 14 stairs. Apparently she can get her cute, chubby little fingers in the crack of a door, open it up and zip on through; I was working, Paula was getting a recipe off the net and there it was. But she's super tough (kids seem to be) and after a 4-oz bottle, she was smiling and crawling again.
Gates have now been firmly established in the Roberts household.