British Emily Gets A Little Cheeky

I’m pleased to report that we made it to Grandma’s house in Virginia, GPS notwithstanding.

I thought I would spice things up a bit for the trip by switching from “American Jill” to “British Emily.” Nothing personal against Jill, mind you, but I’ve always been something of an Anglophile, gravitating toward C.S. Lewis, Manchester United, James Bond and the like.

I felt downright sophisticated traveling up the interstate with British Emily’s smooth, cultivated King’s English guiding my every turn. She practically paid for herself just west of Knoxville when she nailed that Mellow Mushroom, one of our family favorites and the unofficial pizza of Southeastern Conference Football, just seconds before we would have passed that exit by.… Read the rest

Guide Me O Thou Great GPS–And Talk Sexy To Me While You’re At It!

garmin_nuvi_750_001.jpgI did a double take when I filled up the trusty German sports sedan at Sam’s Wholesale Club the other night.

Was the final total really only $33? I took off my glasses, checked for smudges, rubbed my eyes, put them back on again and stood there staring at the digital readout. I wasn’t seeing double. I was seeing half.

I looked around and the mood among my fellow customers was one of great jubilation. One man was happily chattering into his cell phone, “Can you believe this?” Another finished filling up his Ford F-150 Double Cab, stared at the final total and started bawling like a baby, tears of unadulterated joy flowing like a river down his ruddy cheeks.… Read the rest

Dickie V.–You’re Out of Your Depth, Dude

vitalecinderella31-1.jpgTo date, I haven’t jumped on board the “Dump Dickie V.” bandwagon. Yes, unlike fine wine, he has grown worse with age. His clownish antics have grown stale, absolutely.

But I’ve always regarded him like that buffoonish, annoyingly loud, but relatively harmless, uncle at the holiday family gathering who just won’t shut up already with the lame jokes and tall tales but still slips the little kids a piece of candy from his pocket because underneath it all he’s a decent guy with a good heart.

Until now.

Here’s Dickie V. talking about football, of all things, during last night’s Kentucky v.… Read the rest

No Regrets

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Number Two Son and friend Nick have anchored the defensive line of their club soccer team since they were both 11-years-old.

Together, they were a keeper’s dream–“clean that junk up before it gets to me!” For them, a goal scored on their watch was a personal affront. How dare anyone tread on their turf!

Over the years, they called out to each other–“Man on! Man on!” or “You’ve got a drop”–whenever the other was in trouble. They were rarely more than a few yards apart, always watching the other’s back. They were a team within a team.

On Saturday, in the cold and driving rain, they played their last match on a muddy pitch that resembled a barnyard after a monsoon.… Read the rest

An Abnormal November

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Usually at this time of year, I have no problem tapping my usual sources for a couple of Tide football tickets. November hasn’t been very kind to Bama the past few years, so there’s always been someone anxious to unload them.

This year, not so much. My sources have dried up like an Alabama creek bed in the heat of August. Go figure.

Number One has tickets to the next two regular season games against Mississippi State and Auburn, but he’s had a tough time trying to get the hottest ticket of all, the SEC Championship Game against Florida in Atlanta on December 6.… Read the rest

Shifting Gears

It was about this time last year that I was a little iffy and burned out on blogging and longing to “shift gears.”

That urge led me to toss my hat in the ring for one of the community columnist positions at The Huntsville Times. As enjoyable as that’s been, the gig will be up soon (I only have one column left to write for December) and these days I find myself asking the question–Now what?

Of course, every wannabe writer dreams of the big bestseller, movie deal, etc, but only a tiny minority actually achieve such lofty heights. For me, that would involve immersing myself in learning the mechanics of writing fiction, research, developing ideas, characters, etc.,… Read the rest

United We Win

On this Veterans Day, I pause to honor my favorite vet of all time:

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That’s my Dad on the left (in case you couldn’t figure that out) with a crew mate on the deck of the submarine USS Cubera, circa 1953. Part of the unfinished business that remained when my Dad died at a young age are all the unanswered questions that I would like to ask him.

Such as: What was your friend’s name? Where was he from? Was he the only black crew member or were there others? Was he a steward or an Engineman like you? What was going on at the moment that picture was taken?… Read the rest

Just Another Saturday Night In Lower Alabama

There’s a football game, people get drunk, somebody wins, somebody loses, words follow, then shoves and fists, and finally somebody gets shot.

… Read the rest

Permit Me A Moment For Marvin, 1995-2008

Marvin the Goldfish spent 13 years swimming itty-bitty laps inside the fish tank on our bathroom counter. That translates to approximately 120 human years; not as old as Methuselah, but long enough to make me wonder what was in those fortified fish flakes he enjoyed so much.

And here’s the rest.

… Read the rest

Nick Saban Is No Atheist, A’ight?

Yet, for some reason many people think he is. Just Google the phrase “Is Nick Saban an atheist?” and see what site you get. Go ahead, try it.

I first noticed this back around the time he was hired, and even today I get about 15-20 people a month who come to Ocular Fusion that way. Wierd. I mean all you have to do is go to Nick’s MySpace page and you can plainly see that he is “Christian–other.”

I take that to mean that he shows up to some kind of church every now and then, but that the “other” refers to those Sundays when he’s worshiping at The Altar of Previous Game Film Footage.… Read the rest

Requiescat In Pace, Marvin

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Marvin died the other day. He was 13 years old. For a goldfish, that’s about 120 in human years.

We knew he wasn’t long for this world, so I took this picture of him just a few days before he “passed on” (for you librul Yankees, that’s Deep Southern for “croaked”). Some of you knew him. In fact, if you’ve ever visited our home and used our hall bathroom, you may have got to know him quite well, and vice versa.

Later this month, I’ll turn 47. A pretty boring, inconspicuous birthday like that doesn’t usher in thoughts of mortality for most people, but for me it’s a different story.… Read the rest

Soul Food For The Morning After

I was extremely proud of both President-elect Obama and Senator McCain during their respective speeches last night. I thought they were both pitch perfect–humble, gracious, conciliatory, both obviously mad in love with this country. Hardly the rantings of a terrorist Antichrist or a senile, warmongering monster, two caricatures which, despite millions of dollars in negative ads over the course of the past few months, just don’t quite stick.

Speaking of pitch perfect, my good friend Doug Mendenhall, Huntsville Times columnist and journalism professor at Abilene Christian University, offers up a nice portion of soul food for the morning after.

Whether you’re a conservative, liberal or something in between, bon appetit and God bless.… Read the rest