I don’t know where this white snow horse sculpture was built, but it is beautiful:
A friend sent me the photo by email, and didn’t know where it originated either, but it sure is pretty. I don’t know if I can ever build another snowman after seeing something like this.
I’m amazed at how things work out some times. Take the summer of 1981, for instance. I just graduated from high school, my parents were separated, I’m living with my dad and the woman he got pregnant in one town, while my sisters and mother are living in a house in another town where we had all lived for the last nine years. By the time the fall of 1981 rolls around, I have to figure out what I’m going to do about college.
And I pretty much hate my life.
Even though I’ve badly hurt my throwing arm, I have several baseball scholarship offers, including Western Illinois University, where my idol, Rick Reuschel pitched; and another to UTEP, where little do I know it, but future baseball Hall of Famer Greg Maddux’s older brother Mike is currently pitching. (Nobody even knew who Greg or Mike were way back then, though they’re both famous now.)
I also get an academic scholarship from some rinky-dink little school named Kentucky Wesleyan College (KWC), population about 300. I have no idea why we do it, but my dad drives me down to the little town of Owensboro, Kentucky, where KWC is located, for scholarship interviews. I don’t remember much about that time, other than the the drive through Gary, Indiana was really unpleasant; the town was very small; they were having something called a “revival” in a tent just off one of the streets we drove on; I thought a female teacher was very, um, sexually aggressive; and plants with enormous leaves were growing on farms. (I’d later learn that these were tobacco farms.)
I have no idea what I said at the interviews, and having never really worn a suit, I knew I was dressed like a dork. But despite whatever I said, they made me/us an offer. (I’d later learn how expensive that “offer” really was.)
For some reason — I don’t remember the discussion — my dad and I decided to accept it. I imagine the discussion was my dad saying, “You’re going to KWC,” and me saying, “Duh, okay,” while also thinking, “I’ll do anything to get the hell out of here.”
The only part of the discussion I really remember is this: My dad tells me, “Don’t worry about the cost, I’ll find a way to pay for it.” (The way he found to pay for it was that I would take out student loans, and work to pay those loans off until I was thirty years old.)
With that decision (to “get the hell out of here”), I went to KWC, and very quickly met the young girl who in a few years would become my wife. Thirty years after that initial meeting, and 28 years after we were married, she is still my wife. Though we are separated now, today would have been our 28th anniversary.
I write this note tonight because, even with our ups and downs, for 99.9% of the time we have known each other, she has been a good friend to me, and her family has been like my extended family. In 1981, despite my long hair and beard as a freshman, her family somehow tolerated me. Her dog, who I’m told judged her boyfriends, slept on a cot with me. Her brother and I fed peanut butter to a pet bird that I’m told never drank water. I remember driving her sister to school with her friends. For some reason, her parents let me live in their house before we were married. Her dad, grandmother, and grandfather became my friends. Her dad and grandfather taught me about the stock market, her dad kept helping me find jobs, and her grandfather inspired me to start my own business. I remember her mother, grandmother, and grandfather passing away. Four of our dogs also passed away. And I remember her sister having her babies, two nieces I’d do anything for.
There is no real moral to this story, other than to say that when it came to one little decision about going to some place called KWC, however that decision was made between my father and I, I’m glad for how things worked out. It may not be a storybook ending where the husband and wife ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after, but I think I’m better off for having taken this journey in this lifetime.
I don’t know about you, but on a cold Colorado winter morning, I make fresh-basked chocolate chip cookies:
That’s how I roll. 
A quick note here today that if you’re interested in Drupal, and happen to live in Colorado, I posted some Boulder, Colorado Drupal news and information yesterday over on the Valley Programming website.
Besides the Drupal users groups in the area, which are very cool, I’m also really happy to see that there is going to be a Drupalcon event in Denver, Colorado in March, 2012. As a new Colorado resident, that timing couldn’t be any better.
Knowing of my interest in Zen, a friend of mine sent me this photo of a letter from Albert Einstein to a parent grieving after the loss of a child:
If you know something about Zen, you know that Einstein is writing about the “oneness” of the universe. Zen tries to teach us about this through techniques like Zen Meditation (zazen), and the concept of all things being interdependent.
I don’t know what Einstein knew about Zen Buddhism, because Zen wasn’t popular or even well-known in the United States during his lifetime, but he certainly understood interdependence.
For more information on Zen, I’ll refer you to one of my favorite websites, the Kwan Um School of Zen.
Before I forget about it, I was reminded of the Carl Jung Red Book during a recent episode of Law & Order - Criminal Intent, and wanted to make a note of it here as a “reminder to self”. So, here’s a link to it on Wikipedia. (And, if you don’t know who Carl Jung is, here’s a link to a page about him on Wikipedia.)
Earlier this spring I was riding my bicycle almost thirty miles a day in Alaska, when I ran into a few health problems that slowed me down. About three weeks ago I finally got back on a treadmill after my move to Colorado, and now I’m glad to say that yesterday I climbed over 2,000 vertical feet on the treadmill yesterday:
The important “note to self” here is that three weeks ago I was in no shape to do this, and my heart rate would go up to 130 beats per minute just touching the treadmill, but yesterday it took a lot of work to get my heart rate over the 130 BPM mark.
The note to self is this: You can feel much better, and be much healthier, with only three weeks of exercise.
P.S. - My heart rate wasn’t really 191 BPM. That’s just what the machine defaults to when your hands aren’t on the grips.
We’re starting this morning with a very thick white fog, so if my cattle-neighbors come to the fence again, the background of their daily photo will be completely white. Here’s an earlier photo of them in a nice Christmas tree pose:
Just a quick note here today that I’m running a contest on my devdaily.com where you can have a chance to win a free $50 gift card to either Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble. I run contests over there from time to time and usually give away books that I like, but for the holiday 2011 season I thought I’d just give away a gift card.
Here’s a link to my $50 Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble gift card contest. As the saying goes, somebody is going to win, it might as well be you. (And I can guarantee you, your odds are much better than winning the lottery.)
As I write these words at 4:30pm on Sunday, December 4, 2011, I’m watching another whiteout snowstorm coming at me from over the Rocky Mountains, but while on a walk a few hours ago, I found these cattle waiting to greet me:
I think this may end up being the photo I use for my Christmas cards this year.
(P.S. - I know this image is a little small. I’ll add a plugin here soon to let me post larger images here.)