Despite All Obstacles

Daddy Daughter Day

2012-01-26T08:12:00.000-05:00

I've been working a lot. I missed 'bring your dad to school' day at Lily's pre-school, I've been working over my days off, and I've flown to Texas and back three times this month.

So I took back my family time. On Sunday, I took my girls to work with me. We loaded up early as momma and the boys were heading to church. We did laundry at a laundromat, which was surprisingly exciting for the girls... we had breakfast at Bruegger's Bagels & Bakery, back to the laundromat, to pick up a part at NOV, to the carwash, then to a rig in central PA, driving through an amazing 20-mile sparkling princess fairytale land left by the weekend's ice storm, then to Dairy Queen for lunch and ice cream, then to the shop where the girls "helped daddy fix a big machine." We had a blast!!!

Land of a Thousand Chimes

2012-01-26T08:01:00.000-05:00

Last weekend, there was an ice storm in central PA. On a cold, sunny, windy day just after the storm, it sounded like an endless orchestra of small wind chimes. The sparkling woods were beautifully blinding. My camera did no justice. My girls were with me for the experience.

First and Best

2012-01-14T10:27:00.000-05:00

Last year, our church covered a multi-part series on tithing, finances, and financial blessing. None of the information was new to me, but certain parts were renewed in me, through the enthusiastic conviction of my wife Petra.  Pastor Jack started out the series by handing out a copy of The Blessed Life, by Robert Morris, to every household represented in the church. Petra got started right away, and she instantly wrapped herself around the fact that God calls for not only calls for the return of ten percent of our sustinence, income, etc., but that He calls for the FIRST of it, as well as the BEST.

Why? Why does God want the first and best of everything we own? God certainly doesn't need our money, our belongings, or any material thing. What He wants is our loyalty and obedience. He wants to see our selflessness. He wants to know that He is #1 in our life. And this is the one area of our life--the one place in the Bible--where God challenges us to test Him. If we give God our first and best, God says to see if He won't open the floodgates of heaven and pour our blessing into our life. He promises to do that, and to protect the rest of our finances. Sounds like a win-win to me.

So here's my public writing tithe for 2012. Before I write stories about mermaids and peanut butter and whatever other meaningless topics come to mind, may I humbly express thanks to God for His many, many blessings.  I will never be afraid to use anything He has given me--money, talent, time, or possession--in the ways that He directs.

--MJ

Thanking God in the Good Times

2011-12-27T20:43:00.000-05:00

Times are good for our family--in many ways, the best they've ever been. This type of situation presents an excellent opportunity to reflect on where we came from, where God brought us, and the people He used to get us here today. We will never forget the hard times nor God's many blessings. He has endowed upon us the means and responsibility to help others, as we ourselves have been helped; as for me and mine, we will be good stewards of his blessings. As in the past, when we had little, we will ever be thankful for each breath, each opportunity, and each disappointment that we fail to understand. God is good, all the time. Thank You, Almighty Father.

Ayla and the Ferocious Beast

2011-12-27T11:34:00.000-05:00

Yesterday evening, a blood-curdling scream ripped through the peace and quiet of our home. Instantly, everyone dropped what they were doing and ran frantically to the dining room, where Ayla was still screaming in panic.

Of course, as a parent, the usual horrors run through your head. The first thing you think, is 'pinch.' For kids, pinching and choking seem to be the most common injuries. Petra and I both expected to run around the corner and see Ayla's fingers stuck in a closed door, or pinched by a toy, or see her tongue pinched between a spring-loaded jaw clip for womens' hair or bags of chips. Smashed finger, pinched toe, something along those lines.

The next thing you think, is maybe she's stuck. Stuck with her shirt around her head, head stuck between the stairway rail ballusters, stuck underneath a dining room chair.

Then there's the whirlwind of everything else... electrical outlet shock, boiling water spill, throat stabbed after falling with an object in the mouth, broken glass, or whatever the mind can dream up.

All of these things ran through my head in about 1.5 seconds as I sprang from the couch to the dining room. Petra noted that this is the loudest, most agonizing scream she has ever heard from Ayla.

In the dining room, Ayla is pinned against the back of one of our tall dining room chairs, gripped with fear and looking to jump. For the last ten minutes, she had been watching a stowaway--a ladybug that we found crawling on the Christmas tree yesterday. Per Lily's suggestion, we gave the ladybug a small apple slice in a bowl, and she (Ms. Bug) contentedly sat on that piece of apple for half an hour. Then she got tired of sitting on the apple slice, and much to Ayla's horror, the bug opened her wings and flew right onto Ayla's hand.

We comforted Ayla... then we couldn't stop laughing. "I mean it, Matty," Petra said, "loudest scream ever!"

Christmas Was Amazing

2011-12-27T11:04:00.000-05:00

Simple. Egg nog. Cookies. Vegging out. Perfect.

Home for Christmas?

2011-12-23T15:45:00.007-05:00

Maybe. It's awfully close to Christmas, but there's just enough rain and cold in the air to break another rig on Chistmas Eve. We'll hope for the best and expect the worst. I've actually been out working all week, close to home but not home once between Monday and Friday! It's been busy and tiresome.

Monday, drive North to broken rig. Saw three herds of elk... one of them with 27 elk in all! Camera battery dead (go figure). Monday night, 1 hour of sleep. As always, grueling, greasy, heavy physical labor. Tuesday, 2 hours sleep. Wednesday, 4 hours of sleep at a hotel--and a hot shower and clean clothes!!! Drive to a rig 4 hours away. Almost at rig. Divert to rig 2.5 hours away in Ohio. Thursday, skip sleep. Spent most of day and night dangling in a harness, just over the windwalls where the non-stop rain and the biting cold air pierces two layers to make you feel as if you were wearing no clothes at all. Friday, 3:30 AM, crash in truck, wearing wet, greasy clothes. Ugh.

This year, I don't need a white Christmas. I just need a nap and a pinch of family time! And as far as presents go, I'll take a new back. They don't make backs like they used to!!!

Michael Ehinger, NOV Santa

2011-12-20T23:44:00.002-05:00

A True Story. Mostly.

'Twas a week before Christmas at NOV College
Where oildfield professionals go to get knowledge
The students all gathered to smoke their last cigs
Then they went in to learn about Amphion rigs.

Myself, I was bummed--for in Houston, you see
Was not during Christmas where I'd like to be.
The trees were all dry, the snow was all fake,
And the wrong foods had red bows... yum, rattlesnake.

With Check valves, and diodes, and touch screens, and stators
Robotics, computers, and sweet simulators
This school is high-speed... but the best machine we know
Is the one that makes frothed Milky Way Choccoccino

With thirty-some flavors from Park Place to Baltic
Students swarm the machine, like deer to a salt lick.
But soon they find seats, and the classes get started
Introductions are made, and "Okay, who farted?"

Then to quizzical looks our instructor appeared:
Twinkling eyes, jolly smile, and a long snow-white beard.
With leathery hands and a voice that was gnarly
I could only imagine his sleigh as a Harley.

He laid out some rules: "No pouting, no crying,
you'd better be good, and you ought not be lying"
Then Andy whispered, "Dude, I just saw him at Mass
...I think he's a Saint!" Santa winked at the class.

Then he whipped out some magic, and he taught the dry stuff
In a way that no student could quite get enough
'Til Noon sharp each day, he'd wow and he'd thrill
Then he'd give us all vouchers for Alex's Grill.

All week, the subjects got harder and harder
And I think we got dumber before we got smarter
But if Santa had skeptics, with a badda-boom-bam,
He Snapped! ...And we all passed our final exam.

Now Darren, Emilio, come get your diploma!
I've got to run toys from Hong Kong to Roma.
When I blinked he was gone, but I saw blur of red
burning out to the fade of a loud shovelhead.

Michael Ehinger is an instructor at the National-Oilwell-Varco technical college. He is also Santa Claus. Visit his website by clicking HERE.

One Family's Christmas Traditions

2011-12-20T21:59:00.002-05:00

I was about sixteen years old, staying the night at my friend Pat Francescon's house. His folks were out having dinner. We were looking at his family's Christmas tree, talking about every sixteen-year-old's favorite subject... "whatever." So as I'm talking, he walks over to the tree and roots around through the presents stacked high under its lowest boughs. He grabs a large, soft-looking present and plops down on the other end of the couch. Then he begins to carefully unwrap one end of it.

"What's up?" I ask him. "Oh, nothing," Pat explains, as if forgetting that I was in the room--bearing witness to the cardinal Christmas sin that he was committing. "I was just wondering if this was that Notre Dame jersey that I kept asking my mom for... Yup! It is." Satisfied, he rolled the shirt back up, slid it carefully into the cylinder-shaped wrapping paper shell, aligned the tape to its original place on the paper, and put it back under the tree.

"You do that with all your presents?" I asked him. He nodded. "Pretty much, yeah. Everybody does in my family." Yeah, yeah, likely excuse.

That night, I crashed out on the couch in the living room. It was pretty late when I cracked my eyes to a creak in the floor and a shadow passing between my eyelids and the bright Christmas tree in front of me. It was Pat's mom. I wasn't sure what she was doing at first... maybe adding a few presents to the pile while everyone's sleeping. Then she crouched down and pulled a present from the pile. She proceeded to quietly unwrap it. No way, I thought. Like mother, like son. Sure enough, she held up the new nightgown away from herself, then put it to herself against the nightgown she was wearing. She smiled to herself--(apparently somebody done right)--then re-wrapped the present, replaced it under the tree, and headed back to bed.

Last of New York Holiday Photos (2 of 2)

2011-12-17T23:30:00.001-05:00

Last of New York Holiday Photos (1 of 2)

2011-12-17T22:23:00.002-05:00

Fa Ra Ra Ra Ra

2011-12-17T17:14:00.000-05:00

YESSSSS! Momma wants us all to watch A Christmas Story tonight. And we're ordering Chinese.

Home for the Holidays. Blessed and Thankful.

2011-12-17T16:33:00.000-05:00

Ah, home again. Flew in from Houston via Charlotte last night. Houston is not in any way Christmas-ish. White frost is painted onto trees, but folks are wearing tank tops. I think that everybody loves the idea of family and giving and goodwill, and those are associated with Christmas, and Christmas is associated with snow... but it's not happening in that part of Texas any time soon.

I did get a pretty cool sliver of Christmas spirit in Houston, though... my Amphion systems instructor, Michael Ehinger, was actually Santa Claus. No, really.

So I sat next to a former Cherry Point Marine named Melissa, who is wrapping up med school and traveling the States to find a good burn program to fit into. We yammered the Houston to Charleston leg away, which was nice. On the second flight, I saw a bunch of young Marines fresh from Parris Island, including a boot camp platoon Honor Graduate, proudly sporting his dress blues. I made a note to post a coupleof Parris Island Christmastime blog stories. I got to Pittsburgh just after Midnight.

Today, it's been lightly but steadily snowing all day. Petra and the boys are volunteering in the community with our church (Lifestone) today. I've been home playing Wii Sports Resort with the girls. Right now we're watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (the classic claymation). As I look out our back door over the frosted rolling hills at all the lit-up houses, with Christmas music playing softly and our home filled with the smell of pine from the Christmas tree behind me, I count myself and my family blessed. I worked through Thanksgiving, and I'm slated to work Christmas, but it's a small price to pay for my family to be where we are today. We are in a good place--geographically, financially, and in every other way imaginable. Blessed and thankful.

Christmas at Parris Island: The Big Surprise

2011-12-17T15:25:00.000-05:00

Excerpt from My Small and Mighty Corps

On Christmas Eve, our Senior Drill Instructor (the father figure, or ‘good cop’ of the DI team) instructed us to each take one of our socks out and hang it atop the head of our rack, “just in case Santa comes tonight.” Well, we did as we were told, and I must say that I truly believed that there might be candy inside our socks when we woke up. The Senior DI had a foot locker chocked full of cavities just waiting to happen, which we saw from time to time if the SDI’s door was open. Late that night, I heard a rattle and peeked out from between partially closed eyelids to see the firewatch placing something in each sock. Waiting until he passed, I slivered and slunk like the Grinch to my sock, then pulled out a small piece of paper. Getting my flashlight out and then crawling under my wool blanket (which obscured the light from the firewatch), I read the paper – “500 pushups.” Curious, I sneakily snatched small notes from other socks, to see if someone had a lesser ‘gift.’ No luck. “Mountain climb until you die” and “1,000 flutter kicks” were the first two I pulled out – then, I got an idea. Devious? Yes. Feasible? Yes. Hilarious? I thought so.

I pulled a few sheets of paper out of my letter-writing gear, then got under my covers with the flashlight again and went to work, making my own set of ‘presents.’ “Double Chow.” “Ice cream with dinner for one week.” “No PT for a week.” “Drill instructor for a day.” On the back of each, I wrote, “see Senior DI to claim prize.” I replaced the SDI’s original pieces of paper in their respective socks, but stuffed them low into the toe of each sock, and placed my paper near the top of each sock. In the morning, I woke up and remembered my actions, wondering just how smart the idea was. More than likely, the DI’s would be furious, and we would all thrash until someone had the integrity to fess up. It was Christmas Day, however, and I was saved by the morning church service. By the time we marched to the chapel, sang some songs, and came back, the joke would be out and the thrashing would be over. I was wrong.

When the five of us returned to rejoin the rest of the platoon ‘chilling out’ (polishing boots, scuzzing the deck), a line was formed outside the SDI’s duty hut. Recruit Vest was the first in line, and I moved my scuzzing operation to within hearing distance. He was talking to the recruit behind him. “I got the ‘Big Surprise!’ I wonder what it is? I hope it’s not push-ups or something.” I went over to my buddy, John Martinez, trying not to laugh and pulled him out of the line, “It’s a joke!” I told him. “I made those things!” “You dog!” He said, laughing “I knew it had to be you!" Right just then, the air was disrupted by the short-fused, loud and raspy voice of our Senior Drill Instructor. “What do you want?!” Our Senior DI barked at Recruit Vest from behind his desk. Recruit Vest centered himself on the hatch. “Sir, this recruit is here to claim his ‘Big Surprise,' Sir!” “You want WHAT? Give me that [piece of paper, presumably]!” The silence seemed to last forever. My heart almost stopped as I recognized the calm before the storm. He then continued. I think I could hear him smiling. “Oh, I see.” The Senior Drill Instructor sounded almost amused. “You want the BIG SURPRISE?” Then he exploded. “YOU’LL GET YOUR BIG SURPRISE, VEST! HA, HA, HA, HA. YESSSS, YOU’LL GET YOUR BIG SURPRISE. I GOT A WHOLE BAG OF BIG SURPRISE FOR YOU, YOU MAGGOT! GET THE FRICK OUTTA MY HATCH!!!”

At that, the rest of the line instantly dissipated. Within five minutes, the DI’s had collected all of my little notes, laughing out loud at each of them. Then, we gave the DI’s our Christmas presents – billions of little drops of sweat, for hours. I remained undiscovered. Then somehow, word filtered out that I had been the perpetrator (I guess someone saw me the night before). I still didn’t know that anyone knew. Vest was paying for his ‘Big Surprise’ long after all of us had finished. He was really taking a beating. Then, in desperation, he yelled out “SCREW YOU, SPEIGHTS!” Oh wait, that's my name. How did he know it was me!?!! He took some hell before he dropped my name, too. I took his place even as the giddy DI’s swarmed me and toyed with me, the Christmas present mastermind, until I was flopping around on the floor like a dying fish in a pile of sweat. Looking back, it was worth it.

Christmas at Parris Island: Brown Paper Packages

2011-12-17T15:12:00.000-05:00

An excerpt from My Small and Mighty Corps

During the holidays, recruits receive tons of goodies from loved ones. Grandma Speights sent me one of her traditional handmade candy wreaths, and it was hung on the SDI’s hatch. Though plenty of opportunity was there, not one of those colorfully wrapped caramels, or chocolates, or hard candies was pulled from that wreath for a month. Simply put, no one had the balls, and for this reason: just before receiving the wreath in the mail, recruit Feeney opened his eight pound box of cookies from mom and stuffed two oatmeal raisins in his mouth before the DI came to inspect the package. The DI smelled the cookies on his breath, and questioned the recruit. Diverting, Feeney said, "Would the Drill Instructor like a cookie, Sir!" (when you yell out a question in the Marines, it sounds more like a statement) The DI responded, "I don't want your damn cookies, because from the looks of you, your mother or your grandmother or whoever baked those cookies was probably a heroin-addict, and I have no doubt she injected those cookies full of crack, or marajuana, or some other substance that should not be in this room right now." Then the DI made the short, stocky, 140-pound Feeney eat the whole box by himself in less than ten minutes. When he couldn’t eat another crumb (he was obviously in pain), he got his butt seriously trashed on the quarterdeck until he rained oatmeal rasin puke all over the squad bay. Now, who’s hungry?

Recruit Martinez, who was my enlistment buddy, made sure to tell his parents not to send pogey bait, but instead to send razors, toothpaste, and aftershave, which were all authorized items. He stood on the quarterdeck while the DI inspected his newly arrived parcel. “Recruit Martinez?” “Sir, yes, Sir!” “What is this?” “Sir, it’s Old Spice aftershave, Sir!” “Are you sure?” “Sir?” “Did you taste it?” “Sir, no Sir!” “Take off the cap.” “Aye, Sir!” “Put the bottle in your mouth.” “Aye, Sir!” “NOW DRINK IT! DRINK IT! DRINK IT ALL, RECRUIT!” Just as the DI was yelling, the back hatch slammed. It was the Series Gunnery Sgt. (he was, among other roles, the Human Resources Manager of this organization) and the DI didn’t flinch. In the middle of his raving, he changed, like the flip of a switch. The whole incident went like this, ‘NOW DRINK IT! DRINK IT! DRINK IT ALL, RECRUIT!” (door slams) “RECRUIT MARTINEZ, I TOLD YOU TO GET THAT BOTTLE OUT OF YOUR FRIGGIN’ MOUTH! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? WHAT IS IN THAT BOTTLE, RECRUIT?” “Sir, aftershave, Sir!” “DOES IT HAVE ALCOHOL IN IT?” “Sir, yes, Sir!” “AND ARE YOU ALLOWED TO HAVE ALCOHOL AT RECRUIT TRAINING? GET THE HECK OFF MY QUARTERDECK!!”

Christmas at Parris Island: Human Christmas Lights

2011-12-17T14:57:00.000-05:00

An excerpt from My Small and Mighty Corps

The best boot camp stories, I truly believe, happen over the holidays. Our platoon got very little sleep around the holidays. Just days before Christmas, we were stood up, in our underwear, next to the bulkheads (walls), and told to ‘break out our moonbeams.’ When every man had his angle-neck flashlight and was standing against the wall again, we were assigned a post – two men per window. Since every moonbeam has two additional colored lenses, we had to alternate red, white, and blue. For two hours each night, we were the ‘Christmas lights’ for our building. All the way around our deck (floor), the colors were alternated. The DI called cadence with the slow, steady, heavy step of his boots as he paced up and down the DI highway. Red, white, blue, red,… by Christmas Eve, we all had cramps in our thumbs from holding our flashlight buttons.

Away Insomniac

2011-12-16T03:32:00.000-05:00

I have severe insomnia, but not at home. With my wife, I sleep like a baby. Away from her, I'm routinely up past 2, 3, 4 AM... staring at the ceiling... trying to sleep. Sometimes I simply skip sleeping. The first time I remember this being a problem was back in the Marines, when I was flying. I would lace up some running shoes and go pound out five or ten miles of ground, or I'd swim a mile or 2K--counting strokes.

This week, I'm in Houston. These days, I'm much less motivated. And I'm still awake. Watching horrible infomercials.

It's a Pony!

2011-12-06T00:24:00.001-05:00

I'm so proud to be married to my wife. I'm going to let you in on a little story about us that goes back a long way. Like many good stories, the story itself is only part of the story. Make sense?

So about twelve years ago, Petra was driving back to me and our home in coastal Carolina, coming from Virginia. My sister was riding with her in the car. All of a sudden, a big black bear goes waddling across the road in front of them.

Now Petra's amazing genes used to betray her in those days. I'm not talking about her beauty, I'm talking about her accent--or lack thereof--it betrayed the fact that she was not a natural-born American. So basically, on rare occasions, she would get excited and her speech (phonics, vocabulary, definitions) would slip up... in perfect English.

So anyway, this big ol' bear runs across the road, and in her excitement, Petra says, "Oh my gosh! It's... a PONY!!!" My sister told me all about it after it happened, laughing hysterically. Petra chuckled, but she was visibly upset. "I really thought it was a pony," she rebutted. For whatever reason, that only made it more funny. Bear. Pony.

So the story continues. Over the next several years, I tell the story so many times that it becomes polished to perfection, inciting a gut-busting roar from any audience. "Look at me, I'm a pony!" I'd loudly declare in the voice and body language of Austin Powers... or Richard Simmons... or Jack Black. Like a bear, I'd waddle fatly in slow motion across the room, winneying like a horse. I must've told that story a couple hundred times.

Petra hated it. HATED it.

For years, I told her to just lighten up, it's a great story. She was right, though, and I was a jerk for telling it. So eventually, thanks to Petra, I matured a bit, and the story found its way to the archives of the party side of my brain. I stopped telling it years ago, much to Pet's relief.

Here comes the part of the story where I fall in love with my wife all over again, like I do more and more each day... this time, for her self-depreciating humor.

On our way back from New York on Saturday, a freaking ginormous black bear runs across the road in front of us... we almost hit it! Mind you, the last time this happened to Petra was about twelve years ago. And like it happened just last week, Petra doesn't skip a beat.

"Oh my gosh, IT'S A PONY!!!"

By the way, if you ever whistle or call out to a bear to get it to pose for the camera, like a deer would usually do... it doesn't work. They just run.

Love @ Liberty Park

2011-12-05T23:40:00.001-05:00

New York Randoms

2011-12-05T21:45:00.001-05:00

New Yorkers etc. (Part II... Nighttime Pics)

2011-12-05T01:49:00.001-05:00

Photos taken in Manhattan on Thursday and Friday... photos by both Petra and myself... she snapped all the good ones

New Yorkers etc. (Part I... Daytime Pics)

2011-12-05T01:06:00.002-05:00

Photos taken in Manhattan on Thursday and Friday... photos by both Petra and myself... she snapped all the good ones

Deceptive, money-snatching cartoon characters on every corner. Seven Elmos in three city blocks??! You've gotta be kidding me.

The Bus Driver

"Uncle Steve moved to [address], Utica NY..." "Sal's new cell phone number is 212-..."

New construction workers near the WTC site

See this guy's falafel stand? Check out his sign in the photo below...

Painter in Chinatown

Skater in Chinatown

Bubbles Everywhere

Ladies walking at Liberty Park

Elegant Elderly at Liberty Park

Eight Days of Pure Perfection

2011-12-05T00:11:00.000-05:00

Saturday visit Pittsburgh sites with Petra's folks. Later that night, foreign beer sampler w/ guys @ Barley & Hops.

Sunday chill.

Monday deer season opener with boys... two big bucks, cleaned, cut, & disposed, garage spotless... then we hosted church guys' football night at our pad.

Tuesday chill.

Wednesday organize photos & write all day.

Thursday bright & squirrely drive 6 hours to NYC, walk the city with kids to see Christmas lights all night (Rockafeller, 5th Ave, Times Square, Late Show, Radio City Music Hall, Broadway, etc.).

Friday visit sites all around Big Apple: WTC area, Chinatown, Liberty, Chrysler, Empire State, Gugenheim, Central Park, Grand Central Station. Friday night, watch hockey game in Wilkes Barre from company suite for Northern Region Christmas party.

Saturday almost hit the most massive black bear we've ever seen, took pictures as he was running across a barren field. Babysitter. Dress-up night out at some fancy Italian place for Southern Region Christmas party.

Sunday visiting Swedish pastor spoke at church. Animated. Driving from church to Market Square in Pittsburgh, watched three guys run into a store with guns. Hit brakes. Then saw the movie's camera crew. Took pictures. Ate and watched Steeler's home game at Primanti Bros. Ice skated for six hours @ The Rink at PPG Place. Cooler and three times cheaper than Rockafeller Center's skating rink. Kids didn't want to leave. Came home to watch more football.

Great vacation.

My 9-11 Tribute Photo

2011-12-03T13:13:00.000-05:00

Before & After, 2001 - 2011. Taken from Liberty Island.

Getting into Christmas

2011-12-01T00:14:00.000-05:00

It's not hard to do in our family. We freakin' LOVES Christmas. We're already in the groove. Holiday movies and music and food and egg nog at every opportune moment.

Pittsburgh's Market Square at Christmastime

2011-12-01T00:03:00.000-05:00

Visited Market Square with my in-laws this past Friday. Tons of folks, including our boy Josh, had just left the Penguins game. Christmas spirit was in full effect. Afterwards, we drove around Pittsburgh; Pet's folks were floored to see a city bus welcoming them to the neighborhood... in their native (Hungarian) tongue! That, coupled with the fact that there are so many striking similarities between Pittsburgh (the City of Bridges) and Budapest (the City of the Seven Bridges... other similarities include the incline rail, the river boats, the layout)... these combined to create a perfect visiting atmosphere. Check out the Christmastime pics below:

Fire in the Sky... Gorgeous Sunset Tonight... For Real this Time

2011-11-30T22:47:00.000-05:00

Two Blondilocks & the Four Bears

2011-11-30T21:41:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time, there was a bear. Not just any bear, a chic little Amy Coe collector bear. It was a very special bear for a very special baby. The baby was my daughter, Lily, and the bear was a gift from her beautiful momma. The teddy was aptly, simply, and innocently named "White Teddy."

White Teddy was raised alongside a great big pillow of a brown bear, named Barry. Barry has a gruff 'Papa' voice, he's grouchy, and he always asks if he can eat the smaller stuffed animals in the room, especially kitties. When told "NO!" by Lily or Ayla, he then asks if he can just smell them. Then lick them. Then he always inevitably asks if he can eat them again. Usually he'll stop asking to eat the smaller stuffed animals when you give him a lollipop.

Well, the years passed, and Barry aged well. White Teddy, however, did not. At times, White Teddy looked so dirty, he was not white at all. He was brownish-tannish-gray. Then one day, something horrible happened. White Teddy's bum ripped open, and all his fluff came out. Lily was devastated. So was Barry. Momma took the opportunity 'hospitalize' the bear, so he could be properly cleaned before he was repaired. He was returned to Lily within a few days, good as new!

Over time, the dirt and sand and swimming pool chloride and sun and bumpy wagon rides took their toll on White Teddy. His cloth became very frail... first at the seams, then across the surface of his body material. Even his stitching became very fragile. He was losing fluff all the time. Momma had to limit Lily's playtime with White Teddy, in the best interest of the war-torn, aging bear. Barry was lonely. Lily was very, very sad.

Later that year, momma, Lily, White Teddy, Barry, and the rest of the family took a trip to see Lily's grandparents, Anyu and Apu. Lily's grandmother was, among other things, a sewing Ninja. With Lily's permission, momma gave White Teddy to Anyu, so that she could try to fix him.

Several months passed, and Anyu could not find a way to fix White Teddy. She was able to find material that looked and felt similar to Mr. Teddy's original material, but it was not exact. That meant that she would have to completely rebuild the bear, in order for him to look right. White Teddy would need a whole new makeover. This would still be very, very hard for Anyu to do.

Then one magical day--not so long ago, in fact--something miraculous happened. Momma was searching on ebay, and she found the exact same Amy Coe baby bear, in 'like new' condition! It had a "Buy it Now" option, free shipping, and it was the only one. Regardless of what it cost, momma would pay the price, because it was Priceless!!!

Within 72 short hours, a small brown package arrived at Lily's house. The package had her name on it. When Lily opened it, her eyes lit up... "WHITE TEDDY!!!" She was so happy, she could just cry. She said his name so loud, it even woke Barry up from his daily hibernation, upstairs on Lily's bed. He was very happy too. White Teddy looked new and fresh and perfect. Then Lily's momma sat down with Lily, and explained that Anyu was not able to fix White Teddy. "So this is a new White Teddy," momma finished. "That's okay," exclaimed Lily, "I like this White Teddy better anyway!"

On Thanksgiving, this Thanksgiving, to be exact, Anyu and Apu came to visit Lily and her family. It was then that Anyu got to meet White Teddy II, and she carefully returned the original White Teddy to Momma. He now sits in a place of honor, guarding Papa's most precious collectibles in the 'Man Room' downstairs. Then Anyu unleashed another surprise... a specially handcrafted bear, akin to the original bears, lovingly designed and created from scratch by Anyu herself. "Since you have already a new Vite Teddy bear," said Anyu with her accent, "you can giving this one to your little sister."

Now Lily and her sister, Ayla, play together with Barry, and White Teddy II, and Chee Cha Bear. They sing the Teddy Bear song together, and on special occasions, they will still be able to play with White Teddy (the original)--when he is not busy guarding throwing darts, or playing chess with Pistol Guy, or guarding Papa's collectibles. And they're all living happily ever after.

Tea For Three

2011-11-30T19:00:00.000-05:00

Caught a photographic glimpse--albeit blurry--of Ayla walking from the bathroom sink to the playroom. She just got a new tea set from a garage sale not too long ago, and Anyu & Apu (grandma & grandpa on mom's side) just got the girls a new Dora table & chairs set. I sneaked a peek at a tea time with Mickey & Minnie. Cute!

Sing Unto the Lord a Throwback

2011-11-30T18:21:00.000-05:00

In Psalm 33:3 in the Bible, David implores [us / everyone] to "sing unto the Lord a new song." In the preceding verse, and in other parts of Psalms, he encourages the use of different instruments, basically trying to make people understand that God delights not only in the praises of His people, but especially in fresh, hip, jazzy songs that are, well... new.

But that doesn't mean that God ONLY likes new songs. I'm sure God has a few favorite golden oldies. Instead of focusing on looking better and singing fresher, how's about we revive some of the classics? Hymns, early contemporary Christian music, old-school praise... God would probably appreciate it, and I wouldn't mind it too much either!

Two Bucks... A Successful Season Opener

2011-11-30T18:03:00.000-05:00

I haven't been hunting in several years. Since the boys are getting older, I figured it was about time to blow the dust off the guns, buy a few licenses, and get my sons out where all boys need to be at some point in their lives... the wild. Well, as wild as we can find around here, anyway.

So I took leave this week. Monday was the deer season opener, so I kept the boys home from school to hunt. Woke them at 4AM; they popped to attention, sleeping lightly on the hair springs of anticipation! We bundled and headed out the door: Me, Gaff, and my strapping lads. Gaff, for those who may not know, is a .300 Win Mag, which replaced Ol' Trusty the 30.06. Gaff bears the nickname of his previous owner, Stephen Peter "Gaff" Gaffney, with whom I shared my most memorable hunting moments. He shares those moments with me still, in spirit.

For this hunt, Josh manhandled the crossbow and Caleb sought small game with his high-power ($350) pellet gun. Unfortunately, it was miserably rainy and cold, and Caleb ended up weathering the last several hours in the truck. We hunted from sun-up to 11AM, drove home with two young bucks (I'm extremely selective... no doe, no button bucks, maybe a spikehorn, no leathery old monsters). Dressed them, carefully cut the steaks, cleaned the garage spotlessly, disposed of the carcasses, and washed up in time for the football man party that we were hosting (the guys from church). Of course, Petra put out a nice spread. Doggone I love that snausage dip!

The height of the day included dragging each of those two bucks by the horns, down and up the slick, muddy, no-kidding 50-foot 12-pitch walls of the creek gorge. Caleb thought I was going to die of a heart attack after struggling the second buck up the hill, 6" at a time, for over an hour.

It was a great way to start a vacation, a hunting season, and the holidays.

Introducing... the ThermoSock

2011-11-30T16:29:00.000-05:00

The idea has been in my head for years--a custom-fit sock that provides an extra insulative layer to your thermos. No, they don't all have to be hand-stitched, antlered, and barbaric-looking. Think sporty. Think Mammut, Gore-Tex, fleece-lined. "Personal statement." Even in the most extreme temperatures, imagine 2- to 4-more hours of... hot coffee. Hot chocolate. Chicken-noodle soup. Tomato soup. Iced tea. Whatever. When every hour in the blistering cold is excrutiatingly long and painful... and in style. Your style.

In my mind's eye, these would be made to fit the three or four standard Stanley thermos sizes, available in every color, design, etc. Zippers, velcro, buttons, whatever... and also including an attached (matching) cap that you slide over the top of the cup/lid, for full encapsulation. Mine will also have a webbing loop with a carabiner attached to the back. Can't you envision these on the shelves at Wal Mart or REI? Working on the patent!

Four Photos of a Bee-youtiful Sunset

2011-11-30T16:12:00.000-05:00

As viewed from our back porch...

Proper Recognition of October 29th

2011-11-30T15:45:00.000-05:00

October 29th, on any other year, is lacklustre. There's no pertinent holiday attached to it, there's no 'red letter' anniversary or occasion that immediately comes to mind. But in 2011, this was the date that much of the Eastern U.S. experienced its first snow dump of the year. And it was the good kind! Great packing snow. This unexpected weather phenomena happened right smack dab on my day off, right in the middle of a busy couple months--and a very busy couple weeks. And because our family--every last one of us--absolutely loves snow, it was as if God planned the fun weather just for us.

Because we were too busy having fun that day, I never got to post the pics (here they are):

Mi Hijo

2011-11-30T15:02:00.000-05:00

Here are a few pictures of my oldest son, Josh, out shooting with his old man. We started with his new Ruger .22 pellet gun... fired it until he was keyholing rounds at 100 yards... nice gun, and silent!! Finished off with the new crossbow. Both were gifts from grandpa. I then tweaked Gaff, for a straight shot through the Leupold scope. We left the range materially prepared for the gun season opener.

Piggies!!!

2011-11-30T14:39:00.000-05:00

Momma painted the girls' toes today. Nothing new, just need to capture these little opportunities to create a memory!

Paint, Puzzles, & Supa Snooka Barbie

2011-11-30T14:22:00.000-05:00

As in most American homes, our family typically conglomerates in the living room each evening. TV's usually on, even if it's only on a music channel. The girls like to dance, play Barbies, dress up like Disney princesses, and color. The boys like to play video games if it's the weekend; otherwise they're either doing homework, chores, playing outside with 'the guys' (basketball or football), or with 'the girls' (neighbor sisters a couple houses down... trampoline, hide & seek, etc).

On occasion, we halt all normal operations to turn back the clock, revisiting family nights of not-so-long-ago. During this time, the dining room at our house becomes the center of activity. On this particular night last week-ish (photos below), the dining room table is used for eating, homework, painting, Solitaire, and a big puzzle. I sneaked out of the house for 20 minutes, to scout a potential hunting area. I showed the girls some Barbie wrestling moves in the living room... with the only two Barbies in the house that have clothes. Almost zonked out on the Couch of Sleepiness. Later, Petra and I enjoyed some coffee in the dining room (once the kids went down).

Aah, this is the life.

Last Walk of Autumn, and a Surprise Visit from Grandpa

2011-11-30T12:01:00.000-05:00

Daddy Daughter Time

2011-11-30T09:52:00.000-05:00

Last Colors of the Montour Trail, October 2011

2011-11-30T00:56:00.000-05:00

Thankful without Thanksgiving

2011-11-25T10:02:00.000-05:00

I had it all planned out. Wednesday night, I got back home from work around 9PM. Petra had bought me a ham and I went to town prepping it out and cooking it well past 2AM. Petra's folks and brother arrived from Ohio at about 10PM, and I needed to finish the ham because Anyu (my mother-in-law) needed the baking pan for the turkey.

My intent was to sleep in 'til about eight, type up a 'thankful' message on the blog, and then commence with those wonderful holiday traditions... the Macy's Day Parade, the day-long nibblins, the sweets, the Christmas movies, the football games, and of course, the FEAST!

Well, that all went to crap with a 7:30AM phone call, followed within fifteen minutes by a drive to work, which turned into a twenty-hour workday. I skimmed out on my opportunity to chow down... Rig 480 offered a field-catered, simple Thanksgiving meal--which I gratefully accepted, but with great reserve as to the quantity on my plate, partly in respect to their crew's needs and partly because I believed I needed to save room for the meal at my house, which I ended up missing entirely. After finishing up at 480, I had to drive a few hours to Rig 163 in Ohio, frustrated at the thought that this is my third Thanksgiving in a row without family (and probably my 10th overall since I've been married). I stopped along the way for the Thanksgiving meal of the American road warrior... a spicy-bite footlong hot dog and a bucket-sized sweet tea.

Despite all obstacles, I am so thankful for where I am--and where my family is--today. Two years ago, I worked for three weeks, through Thanksgiving, with my crew of eight men on several new homes being constructed in the Norfolk / Virginia Beach area of Virginia. I was the contractor, and we were sub-contracted by a major area builder to do the finish and punch-out work on eleven houses. I expended money out-of-pocket and I pushed the allotted credit limits from my suppliers, asking my men to work long and hard hours alongside me through the holidays. The builder defaulted, declared bankruptcy, and I lost $43,000. It was a hard blow, and it got harder as my creditors squeezed and my men were paid agonizingly slowly out-of-pocket for work performed over the course of that project. It hurt... badly... and the effects were felt for the entire year of 2010.

Today, before I roll back to work again in what appears to be a long working weekend, I am thankful for the work. I mean, truly thankful for the work. I have an excellent job with excellent pay, and I work under independent conditions for the best manager I've ever had the pleasure of working directly under (Ron Swegheimer... I'll write all about him someday). I have a good partner at work to lean against, and my family is well-fed, all the time, and happy. To my brothers John in Oklahoma and Texas, thanks for the opportunity to join this team... 13 months in and going strong. God, I'm thankful to You for the provision, and for Your big-picture plan for my life and for the lives of my wonderful wife and kids.

Today I'm heading to Rig 329, to work on their hydraulic catwalk. Along the way, I'm looking to share God's blessings with someone random. God is good.

Lineman Video

2011-11-21T19:38:00.000-05:00

Here's a pretty cool electrical Lineman video...

Coffee or Cable?

2011-11-21T00:26:00.004-05:00

Aah, relief. After two years of keeping up with the Jones' coffee makers, my wife finally put away the Keurig and busted out the retro black $15 Sunbeam 12-cup coffee pot from Wal-Mart.  I have long complained about how our society has willingly and unnecessarily accepted a stiff inflation on coffee prices in the last decade or so.   Like free air at the gas station and Taco Bell's archaic 3-olive enchirito, good cheap coffee has gone the way of the white buffalo... or has it?

Right now, we're spoiled. Fernando from church hooked us up with a package of Cafe Campeao when he returned from Brazil.  Usually though, outside of the Lion coffee Petra may order for my birthday or the occassional Jacobs Nacht & Tag that dad brings back from Germany, we coffee cheap. You see, we made a great discovery for coffee drinkers everywhere: for good, cheap Joe, shop the ethnic Isle.  At Giant Eagle grocery stores in Southwest Pennsylvania, there is a Mexican food section, with regular bricks of coffee priced at $3.89. Or you can buy the cheap-o generic American coffee, in equivalent brick size, for about $7.  That's right, twice the price. And the flavor's good both ways.

You see, I have a theory on this one.  The average American of European descent is a straight-up sucka, plain and simple. We take our medicine and we do what we're told. Ethnic Americans, whether of African or Latin or Oriental descent... well, they don't just put up with any Joe's crap. Hells no. Abuela is not gonna spend no $7 on some crap coffee made in the United States, and she's not afraid to let everyone know that. Well, thank God for her, because she saves us hundreds of dollars a year on our steamy addiction.

Now here's what I don't understand about coffee inflation... we're having some tough times in this country, am I right? A lot of joblessness, a lot of corner cutting, a lot of thrift. And broke or not, we're still gonna drink our coffee, right? Well, here are the facts. One standard, freeze-dry packaged brick of coffee will generally make a full pot of coffee about 16 times. That's 16 times 12 cups... 192 cups of coffee. At $3.89, that's $0.02 per cup. Two cents a cup of Joe.

What's the first thing you cut out of your life, traditionally speaking, when you're upside-down in debt? Your cable bill, right? It's purely there for entertainment. For enjoyment. It's not essential for life. Well, consider this. If you are a die-hard coffee drinker, living in 'the now,' the average cup of foo-foo coffee costs you about four bucks ($4) at Starbucks. I'm gonna take a stab in the dark, and guess that if you know how to correctly order a tall, nonfat, marble mocha machhiato, you probably order it four times a week or better. So there's four foo-foo coffees per week, at four bucks apiece, for a month... that's $64.00. That's a cable bill... at Starbucks.

So folks, when the new Flavia hits the shelves--with their overpriced but oh-so-dreamy Milky Way accessory packets, or when Keurig rebounds with a cooler machine and a K-cup that doesn't sour your coffee through overbrewing, or when you finally get sick of ordering Tassimo or Gevalia add-ons in pursuit of the perfect brew, take a step backward... to a simpler day in the not-so-distant past when you could still fill up a thermos at your house (not at the gas station where--yup--you're overpaying for coffee again), and where a full pot of brew creates that aroma that wafts through the house and cuts through sleepy eyes. It still is the best part of waking up, and you'll never get that slow-brewed smell from a machine that craps out an individual cup of coffee in 4.1 seconds.

And let's not forget, when you reach a financial low point that causes you to scale back on unnecessary spending... the next time you sip that piping hot cup of java that's covered in carmel and frothy cream and the magical touch of a human barista or automated dream machine, do the math.

A Random Weekend in November 2011

2011-11-20T23:27:00.000-05:00

There is no elementary school on the planet that emphasizes shooting skills. Grandpa just bought the boys some shiny new Ruger precision pellet guns—perfect for knocking down rabbits, squirrels, turkeys, and other small-skulled edible critters—with virtually no rapport. At 100 yards, it’s like hunting with a truly silenced (not suppressed) .22 long rifle. With Pennsylvania’s short hunting window for supervised youth, and with a schedule that keeps me physically separated from my family roughly 75% of the time, I told my boys they could skip school last Friday to go sight in their weapons.

Caleb opted to go to school. Ha! Petra and I laughed about it, noting the irony. “I’m very proud of him for making the sensible decision,” said Petra, “but I don’t want him to be a nerd, or a belt-fed member of society, either. He needs to know how to shoot... and spend some ‘man time’ with his daddy when the opportunity is there.” God bless that woman. John Wayne couldn’t have married a better wife.

Here’s the rundown on our family, in the Campbell’s condensed version. Our youngest, Ayla, is infatuated with yips. Yips is how she pronounces ‘lips,’ in which she usually means lipstick. She wants lipstick five times a day. She applies it very delicately, then pops her lips like a pro. Ayla is losing some of her wonderful speech impediments… the intricacies of childhood development that, after having four kids, we realize we miss the most. For Ayla, her beautiful “tawshee” has taken a more pronounced and adult-like form… she now says coffee instead. At two years old, she drinks more coffee than some adults we know. Petra and I were raised the same way. Never gave a crap about the kids’ coffee intake. Disagree with our views? Spend a couple months with a coffee-drinking European family. Ayla’s other phrase that we love is “Ya-Ya-Ooshie,” which is how she pronounces her favorite [brand of] doll, La La Loopsie.

Lily is shedding the last of her perfect speech imperfections as well. For years, the letter “C” in her words was replaced by the letter “T.” For example, a car was a tar. A cupcake was a tuptake. When she’d say, “cute,” it sounded like “tyute!” Oh, I loved hearing that!! Well, it’s all over. Our four-year old is a bona fide big girl now.

The biggest thing in Lily’s life right now is White Teddy. She’s had this white teddy bear with soft little pastel flowers printed on it, ever since she was a newborn. It’s from the Amy Coe baby collection (discontinued). Well, she beat that teddy up. After much patching and re-stitching by momma, White Teddy finally got to the point where he was incredibly tanned from dirt, and worn to the threads. After much painful deliberation with Lily, we hopelessly relinquished the bear to Anyu (grandma on momma’s side), who is the resident sewing and stitching genius of the family. Anyu found some very, very similar material, and she asked Lily whether that would work. Lily was excited that Anyu would be fixing her bear. Anyu was somewhat frustrated. Re-working the bear would be extremely difficult. She was incredibly relieved… and so were we… when Petra found an identical bear on ebay, and in new shape!! Lily was ecstatic!

Lily is in pre-school this year, lovin’ it. She’s crazy independent, and not too sentimental… so dropping her off for her first day of school was like, “Otay, mom & dad, you tan leave now (you’re embarrassing me)!” She and Ayla have worn out the Barbie Mermaid Tale, Princess & the Pauper, & Three Musketeers movies this year.

Speaking of movies, we’ve watched fewer this year than ever! This year’s top pick of the family is Soul Surfer. We also loved Rio, and we all liked Transformers 3 about as much as the previous two. Hop was horrible, Gnomeo & Juliet was okay, Diary of a Wimpy Kid 2 was pretty good, Puss & Boots 3D was (yawn) okay, Battle Los Angeles was okay-ish, Captain America rocked for the most part, momma & I were somewhat disappointed by Footloose, Pirates of the Caribbean was pretty good, and I haven’t really seen any ‘man’ movies. By the way, if you have Comcast Xfinity cable, and you see a free kids’ movie on the On Demand menu, entitled ‘Pocahontas,’ don’t open it. It’s not the Disney version. It is the gayest children’s movie you’ve ever seen, and we only watched about two minutes of it. Josh saw all the poorly-illustrated little Indian (Native American) boys and girls with feathers in their hair, and the first thing he said was, “What’s up with the naked Japanese kids?” We could hardly stop laughing before the girls pleaded with us to let them watch it. Let’s face it, sometimes you’ve just gotta break your kids’ hearts, for the dignity of the whole family.

We did not celebrate Halloween... usually we go to a big church for a ‘harvest fest’ or ‘hallelujah night’ or something similar, but Dad had to work at the last minute, and that’s a tough burden on momma… trying to manage four kids in a crazy crowd at night. So they went bowling instead. Had a blast; they’re still talking about it weeks later. I guess that means that we don’t bowl enough as a family. I used to bowl so much as a kid, it was like, “Awww, mom, do we have to go bowling again?” Ironically, as sure as I’m writing this letter, my entire family is playing 100-pin bowling on Wii Sports Resort. Looks like fun.

Josh just played his last football game of the season this weekend. Sports are great for your kids, but they can wear you out when the season drags on!! This was my first year not coaching or managing a sport since the boys started playing T-Ball back at Deep Creek (Chesapeake, VA). He had a good season… but as a new kid to the area, and as one of the youngest players, and in a non-Pop Warner football program where the techniques and rules differ, and having sustained a knee injury mid-season… he sure had to eat a lot of crap from a couple members of his team. He’s looking forward to playing soccer this spring, and to returning to football next year as a 6th grader… and in better shape.

Caleb is a straight-A student. We’re really proud of his academic abilities, and the fact that he’s seriously some kind of ‘boy wonder’ or whiz-bang super genius. He makes being smart look really freakin’ easy. Caleb is still a a lego maniac, a phenomenal artist, and an all-around good kid. I think I owe him some competitive video game time, or some lego time, or some time doing something else that interests him. He actually had a great time at the shooting range when we went as a family a couple weeks ago—and he is probably the most natural shooter in our family—which is why I was surprised he didn’t want to tag along on Friday with myself and Josh. Caleb is a tough nut to crack… doesn’t like ice cream or a lot of snacks that most kids would like; prefers a celery stick over a Snickers…

This weekend, momma busted out the 750-piece Thomas Kinkade puzzle on the dining room table. I read to her while she attacked the puzzle… Danielle Steel’s awesome historical fiction Legacy, which is like a cross between Auel’s Clan of the Cave Bear and L’Amour’s Last of the Breed, with a modern Steel twist that includes New England and the Brittany coast of France. Great inspirational love story… Like most of Steel’s works, it’s relatively slow to start, has a great buildup, and then finishes with a bang.

When the book was finished, I put the action to one of my long-held invention ideas that may become my first patent… the ThermoSSock… to give me 2 more hours of hot coffee when under the elements. I grabbed the spool of Nomex fire-retardant thread, a needle, some old denim, a pair of polypro long johns, a six-point deer antler, a sharpie, a drill, and my trusty Stanley Thermos. Then I went to town on the project and created my masterpiece. Coming soon to an outfitter near you? Not likely. But we’ll see.

The Hungarian came out of Petra this weekend! In case any of you would like to know, don’t ever say anything about Hungarian salami or Hungarian paprika that could be construed as an insult! That’s Peaceful Hungarian Relations: 101 for ya. I knew better… I was just testing the waters (heh, heh). That’s like telling bad Irish jokes at a bar in Dublin, or trying to boycott olive oil in Italy or Greece.

Last night was at-home date night. Michael Buble & Rat Pack music, wine, light eats, and a lot of great conversation. Get your mind out of the gutter! No, we had a blast. No babysitter, no having to drive anywhere, no expensive meal… just an early bedtime for the kids, some well-placed candles, a reason to shave, get a haircut, and dress up, and a day’s worth of buildup. It was a first for us, and we loved it!

My eating season started early this year. Usually it runs from Thanksgiving Day through Superbowl Sunday. It started early this year—today, actually. Thanksgiving pot luck at church today, followed shortly thereafter by Josh’s football banquet… also loaded with great food. 235 lbs. already, even right after the summer (about 20 lbs overweight!). I’m in trouble.

Well anyway, that’s the long and short of our life on this random November weekend, 2011. I’m off to gnaw on a turkey leg.

--MJ

Top 50-ish Photos of Pennsylvania's Skyline in 2011

2011-11-17T12:52:00.001-05:00

We love the skies over Pennsylvania. Most of these are fresh photos, but there are a few that have been posted on this site already.

Viva la Revolution

2011-11-16T13:48:00.000-05:00

80-somethings and clergy and pregnant teens getting maced? Seriously? Police spokesman in Seattle says pepper spray's safe for everybody... who is he, Doctor Marcus freakin' Welby? (Even though normal people worldwide are allergic to peanuts, milk, and things a lot less harmful than pepper spray) Occupy the U.S. Protest what you will. The 1st Amendment to the Constitution preserves that right.

"Congress shall make no law... abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble."

For crying out loud, people, fight. What are you waiting for, bulldozers and brigades of riot troops?

The Family that Shoots Together...

2011-11-06T11:00:00.003-05:00

Last night, we all went shooting at a local public range. It's a 300 yard range, it was unoccupied by other shooters, and best of all, it's free. God bless Pennsylvania. In case you were going to ask, no, there were not any pheasants in the middle of the range when I was sighting Gaff (.300 Win Mag) in at 250 yards. So I didn't shoot any through the neck. Because they're out of season and that would be illegal.

Right now, it's Sunday. I'm sitting at home enjoying the kids before I head off to Texas for the week. There's some tender pheas...chicken simmering in a white wine pepper sauce on the stovetop right now. Sweet potatoes to complement. Mmm, mmm. Smells like November.

Of the metric buttload of guns we possess--which, by the way, get fired once in a blue moon (years apart)--the Springfield 1911 .45 ACP turned out to be the most popular to Petra and the kids. Correction: the Springfield 1911 .22 LR (Long Rifle) Automatic Pistol. You see, among other things, Grandpa Speights (resting in peace at Arlington, WWII / Korea / Vietnam) was a gun enthusiast. And he just happened to pass a .22 LR upper receiver conversion kit on to dad when he died. Dad, like myself, could really give a crap about guns except for their value as hunting tools and intrinsically-valuable heirlooms. So he passed me the upper receiver, to the great credit of my family. For any non-shooters reading this, here's the gist:

I've got this really big gun that most gun nuts love: a Springfield Armory, "Model 1911" .45 caliber Automatic Pistol. It's big and loud, it kicks and needs to be manhandled, and it puts large holes in things. Then dad gave me a modified part that converts that same gun into a pea-shooter. So last night, Petra and the boys had a great time shooting really cheap ammunition ($15 for 550 rounds) rapidly through the pistol; practicing failure drills, rapid magazine reloads, and basic in-close defensive shooting tactics. Since the gun is heavy and the round is small, it doesn't kick. It's not really as loud and it's a lot of fun.

Of course, this kind of fun requires discipline that cannot be taught in a single day at the range. Several years ago, my boys learned to shoot, and learned the rules of shooting, safe weapons handling (verbatim), weapons cleaning / care & maintenance, animal cleaning, animal prep, and cooking. They learned with low-power BB guns, and most adult hunters I know would do well to learn gun safety from my boys. Now the girls are learning in the same fashion.

Anyway, without further adieu, my family... bonding. As they say, the family that shoots together... um... loots together.

"And she thinks we're just shootin." (Just Fishin'--Trace Adkins song)

Brass check

Caleb clears a jam

Guns don't kill ~~people~~ targets. My kids do.

Josh presses on an existing groundhog silhouette target

Mmmm. Chicken.

Mike Unrein on Pushing--and Being Pushed--to Greatness

2011-11-05T09:00:00.127-04:00

Following is the speech that closed our Q3 Principled Leadership Meeting for Patterson-UTI's Appalachian Division. Over four days, all Rig Managers, Drilling Superintendents, Safety, Maintenance, and Human Resources personnel were in attendance from across the region, which currently includes Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and Ohio. The speaker, Mike Unrein, is Patterson's Appalachian Area Manager.

This could have been written as a clean story, excluding any "um's" or broken sentences or stuttered words... but great speeches throughout history have been unpolished and unfiltered. (Digitally recorded with prior permission)

Our leader takes the floor. Mike Unrein. He's stocky, walks with a swagger... has a deep, quiet, raspy voice that's akin to a classic movie mob boss. Part cool guy, part counselor, part cowboy... all business. Cock-diesel, in a collar. He's a young thirty-something, but you wouldn't know it... With our white-haired Regional VP Ops presently covering multiple regions from a mid-country location, the burden of command weighs heavily on this young leader's shoulders. His poise, his gait--very confident. He has a leader's "power stance." His attitude and presence command respect.

His audience is stoic. Patterson-UTI is the second largest land-based drilling company in North America.  The hardened men surrounding him are this company's regional leaders... leaders who represent hundreds of combined years' experience in the world's historically-toughest field of work--oil & gas drilling.  Standing center in the horseshoe-configured conference room at one of our normal venues (the Clark's Summit Ramada), Mike begins to speak.

"I’ll tell ya… now lookin’ at our division… you guys think we’re on top… here with Patterson?" (favorable responses from audience) "Do ya? Well I’ll tell ya something... We Are, men. We are. We’re the pacesetter… and I’m proud o’ that. And I’m proud of every one of you guys for being a part of that… a huge part of that."

He looks around the room... "Who else has been on top… any time… in their life?"  Old Man Ed (Rig 538) Responds: “I been on top in the oilfield”  Our leader, Mike Unrein, points at Ed. "On top in the oilfield," Mike repeats loudly so all the attendees can hear. "Six years,” continues Ed. "Tell me about that," says Mike. [Ed recounts a zero incident rate when drilling offshore]. "That’s great, that’s great. And that’s where we’re trying to go, guys. We’re trying to get there… and we Can! We’ve got the right people." "We will,” says Mark Hasting, Drilling Superintendent.  "We will!" repeats Mike. [Raul, Manager of Rig 738, recounts drilling on Rig 40 in Senora / San Angelo for four years… made 522,000’ of hole in 2002… mostly air drilling]. "Wow," continues Mike. "It feels good, doesn’t it? To be there. Feels good. Let me tell you a story about when I was on top."

Mike begins his story with a lighthearted half-smile. "I was in high school, going into my senior year… My junior year… you know I was… had a great… great wrestling career. Senior year ranked # 1. Ranked # 1 in State. Boy I went all the way to the State Championship match 36 and 0. Nobody touched me, all season long. All season long, you know I was… big man… 8-pack… believe it or not, you know, muscles comin’ outta everywhere… I w… I was good. I was damn good. Nobody touched me all year throughout—no—I didn’t go in the third period with anybody… didn’t even go into the third period. Pinned my way through my almost… I had... I think I had thirty-some pins and only six matches that… were in… (point win matches)."

The audience was notably surprised. 36 and 0... undefeated... is a record that speaks for itself. Truth is, while many can relate to being quote-unquote 'on top,' hardly anybody can relate to being undefeated as an individual, mano y mano, against thirty-six equally-classed fighting men in this same manner. As I scanned the room, it became instantly apparent that some of these hard-tack guys started viewing their young leader in a new light.

Mike never talks about himself. In the year I've been at this company, I see him almost every day, and he never talks about himself or his past. He talks about his dad from time to time; a proud, salty Rig Manager in Texas--or Toolpusher as Rig Managers have historically been called in the oilfield--who apparently diamond plates and polishes everything he owns. That's about it, though.

I've gleaned other tidbits about his family... hails from Colorado, pretty wife, four kids, several brothers--four or five I believe. All competitive. State champ wrestlers & football players. One of his brothers plays for the Denver Broncos. I imagine that when they were growing up, the Unrein boys left their mark wherever they went.

Mike continues. He's using his hands now, talking excitedly, reeling us into the story. "But anyway… here I am going to the State Final match. I’m good… remember I’m damn good. (ahem) Going into the State Final match… 20,000 people. One-on-one. Right there. Everybody watchin’ whole family everybody’s there everybody… y’know… cheerin’ n… what have ya… Well guess what happened... I lost."

"I lost."

Mike's demeanor changed. This was not simply a story anymore.  This was not the speech of a leader who's standing in front of his men because he likes to hear himself talk. This was his life. From the looks of things, this story still is his life. Very much a part of him still today.

"I didn’t lose by a little… I got… pinned. Does anybody know what that means in wrestling I mean that that’s bad… I hadn’t been pinned since my… Freshman year in high school. Since my Freshman year in high school. I made a mistake. A mistake that I live with for… and it it still eats me up guys. To this day I still think about that. You know and now--you ever been there? You know and you think about it you’re like dammit… I coulda got… if I could go back there... what I’d done differently."

As I watched Mike and listened to his story, I began reflecting. I can relate... again, not to the undefeated part... I was never the uber-athlete. But I remember being the Honor Graduate a couple times... top of a thirty- or hundred-man class... in prestigious schools in the Marines. Receiving the top leadership award... from NCO Leadership School. Being nominated for Recon Team Leader of the Year.  Became a Staff Sergeant of Marines. Highly experienced and respected.  I was invincible. Then I got complacent. Did something stupid. Got locked up and crapped away my career. Eleven years combined time... flushed. I can relate to this story. Hell, like the Coldplay song starts, 'I used to rule the world... now in the morning I sleep alone--sweep the streets I used to roam.' (Viva la Vida)

Mike continued.  "After that that you know I... I done a lot of thinkin’ about that… What happened? I had all the tools. I was supposed to win… y’know… worked hard… I don’t understand… you know… wwwhat happened."

"But thinkin’ about that, I remembered back to practice. Practice and my team… I had nobody in practice that could push me. Everybody I wrestled with on my team... nobody could push me. I mean it was… I’d just float through practice… float through practice I’d play around with them for a little bit you know and do all that… there was nobody there that could push me. Nobody there could push me. So and I was good, but I wasn’t great… cause my team wasn’t pushin’ me. My team... wasn’t... pushin’ me."

Mike's right. We've all heard it before.  It can be lonely at the top, when there's no one to sharpen your skills against. To get better at anything, you've got to surround yourself with people who are better, faster, stronger than yourself.

"I’m askin’ you guys... we’re good… b’we’re not great. So we need to push… we need to push eachother. To be great. Cause we’re good and it hurts men when you’re at the top n something happens… and you fall. We’ve got to continually push each other. I mean and it’s uncomfortable when we get pushed sometimes isn’t it? …You get asked some tough questions… you get pushed a little bit… it’s uncomfortable the same way… in sports n stuff… you get pushed hard… it starts hurtin’ a little bit. That’s what we gotta get to guys. We need to push eachother. Cause I’m gonna be pushin’ you. I’m gonna be pushin’ you guys. To be great. That’s what a team has to do and I expect you to be pushin’ me a little bit too."

Mike is now pacing the floor. He's pointing. He's in the face of every Rig Manager in the room. He's invaded their space bubbles. He's unseating and disrupting these managers inside their comfort zone. Shakin' the house.  This is a great motivational speech.  It's perfect right here, right now. And it's timeless.

"We’ve gotta push eachother to be great. We’ve gotta push eachother on every little thing we do, to be the best. Cause if we don’t, we will fail. In that big match. We will fail. In that big match I say… LIFE. Getting people hurt. We will fail! If we do not push eachother to be the best at Everything we do."

"So I’m askin’ you guys when you leave here… what do YOU need to be pushed on. What do you need to be PUSHED on? And what are you gonna push somebody else on. Y’think we can push our hands a little bit harder… in the right direction… you think we could? [fully engaged, affirmative responses] You think each one of us needs to get pushed a little bit harder? We do. That’s the only way we’re gonna get great guys. That’s the Only Way we’re gonna get great. So that might be a little uncomfortable… we’re not doin' it because we don’t like you, we’re doin it because we KNOW you can be the best. We KNOW it. So why don’t we push. THANK you guys."

------------------------------------------

Now, there's no possible way to transcribe or write a speech... in such a way that the audience is captivated in the same manner as when received in story form--through a speaker that has lived the experience. Written stories simply cannot carry the tonal inflections... the long pauses... and most importantly, the listeners' responses--or 'pin-drop' lack thereof. Goosebumps and frozen stares and watery eyes will never find an adequate, accurate place on the page of any book.

Regarding the speech above: in addition to being real, and being a first-person account, it was well-received and exceptionally stated. I rate it among the top ten widely-pertinent and valuable motivational speeches I've heard.

Jim & Erin DiNardo Wedding Photos

2011-11-02T00:09:00.002-04:00

Charles & Alina Raper Wedding Photos

2011-11-02T00:02:00.000-04:00

A Tale of Two Weddings

2011-11-01T23:37:00.000-04:00

Going on three weeks later than I wanted to, I was finally able to sift through some of the photos from our wedding double-header weekend...

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like... Halloween?

2011-10-29T08:51:00.000-04:00

Woke up an Autumn Wonderland this morning... here's the view from our backdoor!