I Think That I Shall Never See...

Okay, I'm no Joyce Kilmer, but I like a tree as much as the next person. Actually, I like trees more than the next person, since the person (next to) next door is mowing down a mess of 'em.

Fish Tales, Redux.

One of my fish, Tyson, went belly up today. It is the way of all fish, of course, but sometimes a guy can miss his fish. I got Tyson after the massive fish carnage I reported a year and a half ago in this post. Check it out, if you'd like. Or not. Anyway, farewell, fish. My your next life go swimmingly.

We will, we will Roku.

I've always been proud to be on the trailing edge of technology. I didn't get a CD player until, like, 1990. I still own records. Once in awhile, I make an exception. Lady Di got me a Roku for Christmas. What's Roku? it's one of those thing-a-ma-bobs you attach to your television set that let's you stream stuff from your computer. Not everything, mind you, but stuff like Netflix movies and t.v. shows and Pandora radio. So, now I can finally watch old shows, like "24" without waiting for the mailman to bring the newest disc. How cool is that?

It's Too Late, Baby.

I tried. Really, I did. Looking good for Auburn at 19 to 11 up on the Ducks, but it's after my bedtime. I'll check on it in the morning.

Give Me Monet (That's What I Want)...

This morning, as I looked vaguely out of my back window at the icestorm beyond, I was struck by a "life imitates art, imitates life" moment. I've been out of the U.S. of A. only three times in my life. In one of those visits my buddy, Dirk, took me to the Vincent Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam. He left an impression on me (or, I should say, a "post-impressionist" impression). See how that view out of the window is reminiscent of the blurred quasi-reality in Van Gogh's paintings? No? Maybe I'm crazy. Wait, that's what HE said!

Well, maybe Claude Monet is more like it.

Yeah, give me Monet; that's what I want!

Princess Caroline

I've developed an interest, of late, in my ancestry. I know my dad's mom's family came from Sweden, but I know next to nothing about my dad's dad's family. I've had a little better luck on my mom's side. Over New Year's weekend, I visited my mom's brother: my Uncle Bob. On occasion- and on this occasion- I inquire(d) as to our mutual heritage: the Blackfords. Alas, Uncle Bob has only been able to determine the Blackford line with certainty back, I think, to his great-great-great-grandfather whose parents met the fate that befell an alarming number of my kinsmen: "killed by Indians". With somewhat less certainty, but with reasonable surmise, he links us with the author of "War Years with Jeb Stuart", written by Lt. Col. W.W. Blackford, C.S.A., who was Major General Stuart's Adjutant during the Civil War. I'm looking forward to reading it (once I get done with "Peace Like a River").

Thanks to his (and my mom's) cousin Paula, I already know a great deal about my mom's mom's family. Cousin Paula put together an amazing text tracing several of her grand-parents' (my great-grandparents') lines back to Malcolm II, King of Scotland. Following the tradition of those Celtic Kings, he tacked on the prevailing genealogy of the time and traced the line back to (gulp) Adam and Eve. One day a few years ago, I passed this along to my daughter, Caroline, who told a boy that she kinda liked that she was descended from a Scottish King. Caroline's friend, Phillip, caused me more than a little pain, but I'll always be grateful for his response to Caroline's comment: "Gee, Caroline, you might be a Princess". Well, she's my Princess, anyway.

New Year's Daze.

New Year's weekend was a stone groove. Lady Di and I kennelled the dogs and left the Boro for Central Florida. We had a New Year's Eve luncheon with AndyMan and niece Allison at Uncle Bob and Aunt Maggie's home in Orlando. The Blackfords are always good company, and Aunt Maggie made sure, as she always does, that we had lots of good food to eat. After lunch, Diane and I donned our Florida State University Seminoles gear and watched the Chick-fil-A Bowl at an area sports bar. South Carolina fought gamely, but the 'Noles prevailed. I'm generally a Gamecock fan, and I've boasted of the 'Cock's baseball championship; however, I'm an FSU alum, so I'll happily collect the four or five one dollar bets I'd wagered on the 'Noles. Saturday, we dragged our carcasses out of bed and headed for the Citrus Bowl to watch the University of Alabama Crimson Tide (whose mascot is, inexplicably, an elephant), battle the Michigan State University Spartans.

There's Lady Di outside of the Citrus Bowl. The weather was perfect. 78 Degrees and sunny. The atmosphere crackled with the hopes of fans of both teams. We consumed normally forbidden food like hot dogs, chips, french fries, and big bottles of coke, and, er, ... dang, where's the bathroom?


Apparently, we weren't the only fans who'd over-imbibed.

Even mascots gotta wait their turn!


The Crimson Tide inundated the Citrus Bowl. The joint was crawling with 'Bama fans.


And their allegiance runs deep, too. This gal's wearing a shirt in tribute to legendary 'Bama coach Paul "Bear" Bryant. The Bear's been dead longer than this fan has been alive, but she knows all about him. How does 'Bama get fans so loyal?


They start 'em young.

Like I said...

Spartan fans were probably outnumbered four to one. The lot that showed was spirited, though.


Now, that's a hat, right there.


These lads had spirit (must not care for math, though: I tried to get them to spell "S-U-M", and they said it didn't add up).


The end-zone is a pretty cool place to watch a game. Hard to tell how many yards either team got from play to play, but you don't get a view like this one on the fifty yard-line.


...or this. If you want to get a decent idea of how the third best team in the SEC destroyed the co-champions of the Big Ten, then just look at the blocking on this play. The Tide played bigger, stronger, and faster than the Spartans.

MSU's football team took a pounding, but the band rocked the house at half-time.

The game got ugly. At 42 to zip late in the second half, we joined the throng of Spartan fans in a funereal procession back to our cars. Still, it was a lot of fun (and the Spartan fans took some solace in knowing their team was, at least, the best team in their state, which, as any Auburn fan will tell you, was not true for the Tide. War Eagle!).