ROTFL

I know Christmas is over, but this is just obnoxious enough to be funny.

When is the last time you saw someone actually rolling on the floor laughing?

Found It!

Found it! That's probably the most heard phrase in our newly acquired sport -- geocaching.

It's a high-tech GPS driven treasure hunt. People hide stuff in say, the woods, and then give people clues or coordinates where it can be found and you're off!

There's a cache (hidden item) and skill level for everyone. Sometimes the cache is large as a tote box or as small as a matchbox. There's everything from easy to find to insanely hard. Sometimes it's right off the sidewalk, and other times you have to slog through the woods or on top of a mountain to get to it. Some people will tell you where it's hidden within a dozen feet, other times you have to solve a riddle to get starting coordinates.

There's nothing of particular value in the caches, the idea is just to find it and sign the log book.  Occasionally there are interesting items that people leave or trade -- or not. Whatevs.

It's hide and seek writ large. Wynken and I did our maiden voyage over the Christmas break and had a grand time. We even got Grandpa Nod, Shoe, and one of the Hardy boys to try it out. Men-folk out in the woods messin' around. What's not to like?

There's a cool app for that (or twelve) on your iPhone/iPad/Android and many Web sites to help you out.  I started out with the Geocaching app from Groundspeak and www.geocaching.com, picked some easy starters and voila! It took me a couple of minutes to figure out how the whole Lat/Long/Minutes/Seconds thing worked because there are a couple of different systems, believe it or not, but mostly I relied on the visual map and the big green arrow that said: walk that way!

It's cheap, it's fun, and it gets you outdoors. I recommend.

Adoration of the Magi

Merry Christmas one more time!

The Hobbit Cometh!

24:15 The Third Love

“Do you remember that girl, Marisa?”, was how the conversation began.


How could I not? She was the cute one who sat behind me in Latin class in high school.

I tried to make her laugh. “Latin is a dead language/ as dead as it can be/ First it killed the Romans/ and now it’s killing me”.

That was what passed for comedy in those hallowed days. That episode inspired me to pull my high school yearbook out of its musty home at the bottom of a trunk and flip through its pages. “Hey, bud, you’re the best! Love ya!”

The pages in my yearbook are filled with grimace inducing pictures of our awkward adolescent selves, bad haircuts, cryptic references, best friends, and roller coaster loves and hates.

Oh yes, our loves were epic!


Let the eye-rolling begin.


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