This is Olive, the spider who's lived with us for the past two months. Every night she makes a new web outside our door. We both normally dislike spiders (at least so close to us), but we've grown fond of Olive and her spidery ways.

Happy Halloween!

Also! I have a spooky story to tell thee, children, so gather 'round.

Actually, it's a dream I had last night, in all it's glory...and gory detail.

          I was with Lindsey and a bunch of other ladies in London, England. We were there to recruit students for my university. A strange, old building had been rented for the day. It was yellow with many small, round windows and creaky boards within the floor. The day went horribly, with no visits from students. At about 5 P.M., before we began to give up, I went out. I marched to the schools, made big, loud speeches, and returned triumphant with multitudes of students in tow. Everyone was so happy. I was the hero.

          If that weren't enough: afterward, we cleaned up, women still singing my praises. When I was the only one remaining, my cousin Nathan came a-calling. We spoke about trivial matters, girls, and the like, as boys tend to do, while I continued to clean. Suddenly there was a bear! He had been roaming the corridors, and we had to escape. I dropped cups and silverware, and the two of us ran in the opposite direction. After two hallways and a flight of stairs were behind, we naturally assumed our safety. Oh, how wrong! The bear reappeared! I had had enough, and exploded through a wall. Safety, at last.

          However, we were then in a large wooded area with my entire family. It was a desolate place, with only a few abandoned barns separating the trees and old shrubs. With not-so-great surprise I heard shouts. "Look, there!" "Oh, my God!" Alien spacecraft darted over the horizon, above the trees. Everyone was terrified, but, yet again, I was there to save the day. I led the lot of us to one of the barns, where we barricaded ourselves in. After a good while, I decided I should go out to investigate. My brother Carlyn volunteered to accompany me. Our journey to the ranger station was a safe one, until we opened the door. Bam! the bear was inside. He grabbed Carlyn, and in true dreamlike fashion I jumped on the mass of bear and man now rolling before me. I was able to sway the bear, we quickly returned to the barn, and then back to civilization with the entire family.

After a Star-Warsesque medal ceremony, Lindsey and I went to Cracker Barrel to celebrate.

OK, I made that last part up—I thought it was a nice addendum.

If you know me well, then you understand my love of The Andy Griffith Show. It represents my childhood, aids my nostalgia for times gone by, and is just a great show. No one has ever beaten me at the trivia game (but I haven't played my aunt Lisa, who would give me a good run for my money) and I have all of the black and white episodes virtually memorized. An important part of "TAGS" was the Darling family, a band of mountain folk played in part by a bluegrass band named The Dillards. They aren't very well known, but should be, especially by fans of bluegrass. Or good things in general.

The Dillards have made a habit of visiting the Oakboro Music Hall each summer. I saw them last year and was the first to buy tickets for this year's show. I brought my family and Lindsey along. Everyone in the building had a great time.

Rodney and Doug Dillard are the only original members still playing, which tells me how remarkable it would've been to see the band in the prime of their beginnings—over forty years ago. The amazing thing is that these two men still play as if they were in their twenties—Rodney is 64 and Doug is 69. Rodney still uses the guitar he played on The Andy Griffith Show, and, of course, a big difference you would note immediately if you're a fan of the show, is that he speaks a great deal more. He told stories and joked around before, during, and after the performance. The recollections and stories they shared were very interesting, and the nostalgia factor was nearly maxed out, but the true treat of the event was simply the music. Just like last year, they played "Dooley," "Doug's Tune," and other regulars, but also "Walkin' Down the Line," by Bob Dylan, and a couple old gospel tunes including "Somebody Touched Me." The latter I'm not very familiar with, but Rodney involved the crowd by having them sing different parts. Even if you don't appreciate songs such as that, you would've enjoyed the harmony and volume produced by the interaction of the crowd. Terry Smith again joined the band on stage, and they rendered a superior version of "Orange Blossom Special."

Also, this is how close I was: near the end, when the group was answering questions from the audience, Rodney's microphone stand fell from the stage—I jumped forward and grabbed it before it crashed the floor. He stopped talking, looked down at me, and said, "Well, you're not on drugs, are you?"

We went out back after the show, and I met them again. Not only are they the most talented of all senior citizens, but they're some of the nicest—the kind you'd prefer to be in front of you in Wendy's. I shook their hands, got another autograph, and spoke with them for a minute. Lindsey was very impressed by the whole thing (and wrote about it here). Hopefully they'll come again next year—they're starting to feel like friends.

I'm in my car, which is going about 70mph. It's 2:05 A.M. and we're near Emporia, VA. It's very foggy and the highbeams are having trouble cutting through. I'm excited because I will be able to see Lindsey's grandmother in the morning. She is lovingly referred to by her family as Gammy. I always look forward to seeing her because she has Tootsie Pops and criss-cross huts.

There is no one else on the road. Everything is black and without us the night would remain a bleak, wet void. But nope, we are piercing through, making our way to loved ones. We are going to fish, eat, and laugh about stupid things that only we remember or care about.

As I look above this slender Dell flatscreen at the white slashes perforating the road, I'm reminded of late night journeys between my house and Virginia. I remember shockingly cold nights in Lynchburg—standing outside of a dormroom at midnight, watching my smoky breath as I wait for Lindsey to come out and kiss me goodbye.

I'm also reminded of a trip we took to Lindsey's parent's in Yorktown. It was a few days after Christmas of 2004. We had met snow by this point. With our musical resources exhausted, we decided to memorize Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire." An hour of that song nearly drove me nuts, but now I know every word. Guess which is my favorite line?

Tomorrow I'm going fishing with my new mother-in-law. Not that I have an old one. Anyway, we're going fishing on the Yorktown Pier where she caught an 18-inch manta ray this past week. After twenty-four years of brim, bass, and catfish, it would be nice to catch such a foreign creature.

We are at an Exxon now. "Surf City" by the Beach Boys is playing over the sound system. It's still a strange thing for me to visit such a modernized gas station. The one I normally use just recently updated to computerized pumps. Part of me feels left out because I seem to be just now catching up with the world. I haven't had a check card until a few months ago. It's great to be able to simply stick that sucker in and go. The Beatles are now singing. This is a great gas station.

This laptop is like a shining beacon in the night here. Three bugs are exploring the screen.

Technology is wonderful. It's 2:43 A.M. I'm in a car going 75mph, typing up my thoughts, and listening to "Fat Bottomed Girls" by Queen. Since I was little I've hated reading in the car—a headache has never failed to accompany car reading. I feel like vomiting, but I can't stop.

The only thing I regret about my wedding is the impromptu speech I made. I hadn't considered speaking, but as my dad addressed the crowd I thought, "Say. Maybe I should get up there and say something." That was my first mistake. The second was actually doing it. I promptly molested the microphone into making an ungodly squeal and at once knew the immensity of my mistake. "Drop the microphone, grab Lindsey, and run like heckfire" was my initial response. But as I looked into a crowd of half-strangers I realized that I had taken Oral Communications in both high school and college, so I was prepared. I mean, I was the weatherman for our school for a semester, what's a little wedding speech? It's my own wedding after all—it's OK.

So like the true lunkhead, I listened to myself and stayed up there. As I began and then actually continued speaking, I realized that this was my worst decision since I tried to set off two dozen bottle rockets with a joint at noon in the Stanly County Sheriff's Office with a bag of aborted fetuses in the other hand and two dead bald eagles stuffed into my illegal immigrant's gay son's husband's hooker.

I fought the urge to impale myself for about three minutes, said lots of stupid things, and finally sat down. It wasn't until two days later that I realized my biggest mistake. I mentioned lots of people, mainly members of Lindsey's family, and thanked them and everyone for coming, and some other boring things. In my stupidity, I forgot to thank my own family. Not only my mom, dad, and brother, but also all the other members who had sacrificed loads of leisure time in order to attend my wedding five hours from their homes. I immediately fell face first into the sand and began swallowing in hopes of happy death. Fortunately, Lindsey recognized the problem and scooped me back up, brushed me off, and explained that it was OK—that I was nervous, hadn't planned the darn thing, and that everyone realized it. My family knew that I greatly appreciated their being at my wedding, she said, and that I can always thank them when I get home.

Well, even though few of my family know my blog exists, or even know what a mouse is, I thought this would be a good time and place to thank them publicly. I might as well. To my cousins, Justin, Josh, Nathan, Eric, and David, thank you for being my groomsmen. You were some of my best friends growing up and you mean a lot to me. Thanks to aunts and uncles—James and Cynthia, Susan and her daughters, great-uncle James and his wife Myrtle, Bobby and Lisa—I thank you also for taking the time and effort to be there; it means a great deal to me. It wouldn't have been the same without you.

And before I forget, thanks to my dad, mom, and brother Carlyn. Dad, you taught me how to play chess at age two, encouraged me whenever possible, and instilled a set of values and a commitment to learning that haunts me to this day. I'll never forgive you for it. Mom, you're weird and we don't get along a whole lot, but I think that might be because we're too similar—our mutual love of decorative wooden utensils and romance novels has put us at odds for years. Maybe it will be different now that we're not competing for stomping ground. Carlyn, even though a huge ravine of nine years divided us, I think it also helped us to bond. Or maybe it's the fact that I'm amazingly immature. In any event, thanks for all those years of video games, fireworks in the kitchen, the countless games of basketball, and generally taking my abuse with good humor. I'm sorry that I'll probably die many years before you do.

I need to go finish our thank-you cards.

By now Lindsey and I are at Nags Head and we've been married for 24 hours. Praise God and thanks to everyone who made our wedding special. Yes, I'm writing this two months before yesterday even happened (starting to feel like Marty McFly here), but I know that even if aliens invade, gunmen arrive, or, God forbid, a dress strap breaks, it will have been a wonderful event simply because of what it is. Thank you, Proctors and everyone else in Poquoson, Yorktown, and the surrounding area who were involved, especially the members of Poquoson Baptist Church who welcomed me. I feel like I suddenly have a big new family. I've felt this way for nearly two years now, especially with Lindsey's immediately family. But now that it's official, well, it just feels great.

You've all been such a big help. Dee Forrest, Sylvia Wood, Sandra Lindell, Donny Goodrich, Bobbi Fordham, Pastor John, thank you for your cooperation and help. There were a few tough times, but we made it through.

Thank you, Kathy, for being a great mother-in-law. I don't know what's with all those rumors and jokes about mothers-in-law (Fred Flintstone just had a rare, unfortunate situation, apparently). You're great. That "in-law" part is negotiable.

Ashley, what can I say! You've always been very nice to me, right from the start. You're the closest thing I'll ever have to a real sister. Too bad I wasn't there to torture you as a child.

Bud, thank you for also being great. I remember when I first met you in KFC's parking lot in Albemarle. On that first day I could tell that you're a fantastic person and father. I look up to you, and not just because you're 6-foot-7.

I could never forget Gammy, who has become a grandmother to me. I lost both of my grandmas in 1994 and I've missed them a lot. You are a wonderful addition to my life and I love you, Gammy.

My biggest thanks goes, of course, to God. Without Him, Lindsey and I would never have met.

Lastly, but not quite least, Lindsey. Thank you for loving me and proving to me that there are some people out there worth risk; that things aren't as bad as all that; that I could find somebody worthy of love and who would echo it fully. You've loved me through all my bad times, when others would have left. You've helped me. You've probably saved my life, and only you can know what exactly I mean by that. To others wondering what that means and whether it's a cliché: it's closer to reality than rhetoric. Lindsey keeps me straight; "I walk the line." But enough with this talk! I love you, Lindsey. Let's start our life together.

Don Corleone had it right when he said, "A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man." Although not exactly what I had in mind, the core principle is the same: family is one of the most important things in life. I love my [extended] family. Today we gathered at uncle James' house for fun and food. Josh, Jodi, Nathan, Jordan, Justin, Alexis, James, Cynthia, my parents, Cynthia's brother Ted and his family all piled in. Justin has bought Alexis a big trampoline, which is lined with a protective net to prevent clumsy boys like me from falling out. We flopped like manic fish for at least an hour, hitting and kicking a giant ball at each other. We were children tonight, and it was great.

I'm pleased that at twenty-four I still act like a child, or have the ability, anyway. I have lots of responsibilities, and even more now that I'm getting married. But I can still be silly and carefree. I see many, many adults who have let "the weight of the world" get to them. When one leaves childhood, he's a part of the "real world," and he sees things differently, usually without the curiosity and hope childhood allows. I'm going to do my best to hold on to that throughout my life. I think too many people lose it. (Let's see if I'm successful fifty years from now.)

Tonight was a reminder of that. It was probably the last time we'll have that sort of get-together before I'm married. I stopped looking at it that way, though. That makes it seem like something is ending and things will forever change, and that's not how it is. Things will still be the same, except that Lindsey will be a great addition, who will make things even better.

As I've written, midnight has come and gone, so 'today' has become yesterday. This is a special day, the day I first met Lindsey. We didn't officially start dating until the latter half of June, but I'm still reminded of her when May 7 comes. How would my life be different now if she hadn't bumped into me that day? A lot of people would say, "Oh man, I don't want to think about it." I do because it reminds me of how fortunate I am.

That's how far I drove this weekend. My record for a weekend is 1517, when we went to Nags Head the first time.

This entry is going to be a checklist, basically. Hit the Back button now, please.

I picked up Lindsey at Liberty University on Thursday afternoon and we headed for Yorktown. We were on the go throughout our stay, with little downtime, but it was great. On Friday, we picked out new glasses for Lindsey and met with Pastor John. I also had to wait in a very pink, flowery room for about an hour. I had to do the same thing a year ago, but I guess the initial trauma never fully faded. I flipped through the same TIME magazine forty-two times.

Bud drove us to President's Park Saturday morning. It was great for a group of nerds like us (and hey, I can get culture credit for it at Pfeiffer). We were also able to visit with Marni (Lindsey's older cousin), her 9-month-old son Alex, Uncle Wally (Lindsey's grandmother's older brother) and Aunt "Chicken," and, of course, Gammy. Saturday night was spent making and decorating brownies for Stevie's birthday bash to be held the next day (which we wouldn't be able to attend). We crashed at Gammy's Saturday night after taking her back home.

I also bought some swimming trunks for our honeymoon. Forty-six days.

Justin called me today. He asked if Lindsey and I would like to see Underworld: Evolution. I never saw Underworld, but Lindsey did and said that it was OK. I liked 'Evolution' (6/10). When younger, I would dismiss movies like this as useless and unworthy of attention. But, I've come to realize that everything is valid in some way. Even if completely stupid and seemingly worthless, such as Kevin Federline, St. Valentine's Day, and astrology, things still have value as social evidence or device, even if they'll eventually remain to posterity only as unwanted oddities—leftovers of societal evolution. A bit harsh. Every movie has a story that was deemed worthy by someone, even if written only to count box office numbers. They still affect all viewers through emotional, cognitive, and sensory experience. So, even though I'd like to erase lots of things, I can't, so I have to add them into this crazy equation of which we're all variables. I guess it depends on the constants with which you set yourself. I'm such a weirdo.

I need to stop analyzing my thoughts for you with these entries and just tell that I thought the movie wasn't bad. ...If you need some good old-fashioned sex and violence.

I may be a little old to finally declare this, but the last lingering fundament of my youth is gone. This morning, shortly after turning 16½, Gig's heart stopped. I cried. Like a baby.

I was only 7 when he was born—April 9, 1989—and I'll soon be 24-years-old. Gig has been around for 69% of my presently short life. For a less technical explanation, Gig was my Dog, capital D. He kept me company for years, and as any pet owner-lover knows, it's more appropriate to count the days. Terribly bad, wonderfully good, and anywhere between, a day may be bettered by a pet. Just as with a person, the relationship of a pet holds memories, connections, insights, secrets, and even inside jokes.

I buried Gig beneath the apple tree that shaded him throughout his life. As a young boy, I spent countless hours playing among fallen apples with G.I. Joes, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Transformers, and He-Man, when I could find him. All missions to launch a surprise attack on Mount Gig failed.

Gig will be remembered as he was—a welcoming, bright-eyed, wagging watchdog. And a lover of all things cheese.

I miss you, Gig.

I woke Carlyn at 7:45 this morning to go fishing. We used the worms that were left over from July 4. He tried the same technique and caught 13 brim. I caught 4 catfish, 1 bass, and a brim. We sang Brian Regan's country song parady, "You Kicked My Heart's Ass" and talked about other things. We came in at 9:45.

I cooked breakfast: scrambled eggs, seasoned fries, and biscuits. While we waited for it to cook we played My Word!, which is a card game Gammy (Lindsey's grandmother) gave me for Christmas. We watched the first half hour of "Dumb and Dumber" (the DVD Lindsey and I bought last year). It was a good morning.

Lindsey is driving home from the apartment in which she's been living near Liberty. It's Alison's. She was alone for most of the time because the other girls were gone for the summer. Before this house she stayed at Tiffany's.

Cynthia called shortly after I wrote the above, asking if we'd like to join the fish fry. Lindsey and I arrived before my family, at around 4:20. Alexis was sleeping. Lindsey wanted to see "Apollo 13", so I put it in. James changed it later, though, to "I, Robot". It played through the meal. Lindsey ate two fish and some fries and hushpuppies. I had a few tastes of hers, but didn't fix a plate for myself. After the food, I took her around James' property and told her of memories. Before we left I found out that they were coming over tonight.

Justin, Cynthia, and Alexis showed up at 9:15. We took the white bucket that housed the fish earlier to the middle of our yard. Justin just had a pack of various "fireworks" he bought at Wal-Mart. It was fun, though. I tried to set off a few of my old rockets—they're about 10 years old. One went into the air fine, but I stuck the screamer too hard into the ground and it just whistled and popped on the ground. Apparently, it was hilarious.

It began to rain and we grabbed everything as we ran for the house. Justin let me have what was left.

Extremely boring to everyone else.

Yesterday at the cookout, Cynthia mentioned that today would be a "free fishing" day. Apparently everyone may fish with artificial bait regardless of whether they have a license. So, I invited them to come. This morning at about 8:45 Justin knocked on the door, which was closed and locked. My mom let him in and walked him to the bathroom. I went to see what was going on; Justin had been stuck by a catfish on his hand between his thumb and index finger. Lots of blood.

I took a shower and Lindsey got ready, also. We gathered our fishing supplies (I had to open a new rod and reel that had been in the corner behind the TV for a couple years—my other reel had malfunctioned two days ago). I was excited because I hadn't been fishing with Justin in years. We used to do it all the time.

Lindsey and I walked over to the deep end, as we all call it. Justin and Cynthia had been there since about 7:30 AM. We fished for several hours. Carlyn eventually came out and used one of Justin's rods. It wouldn't cast far, so Carlyn just let it sit right off shore. He caught about 15—one catfish with my rod when I was away, 13 brim (you might know them as bluegills), and a raccoon perch. I caught a few catfish and brim. I went away from the group several times and three separate times with three different people my rod brought in a fish. Lindsey caught her first catfish, another, a brim, and a bass. Cynthia and Justin each caught a few brim and catfish. We kept a lot of them in buckets. Carlyn ran to the building and found one that I had forgotten I bought.

At one point I had just started to walk back to the house when Lindsey yelled and Justin scrambled. My rod had gone into the water. I quickly grabbed Lindsey's rod to attempt to snag it. Miraculously, it hooked the rod right away and I slowly reeled it in. It must've been a large fish. No one saw the bobber go under—Lindsey just saw the pole slide into the water before she could grab it.

Dad went to get everyone breakfast at Bojangles', and also stopped to get more worms. At noon we all went in to eat. We watched the Andy Griffith episode in which the crook rolls into town and becomes Mayberry's guest of honor for Founder's Day. After breakfast/lunch we went back, but I realized how tired I was and Lindsey and I went in after a few minutes. The rest followed shortly after.

They took the fish home with them after I covered the bucket with plastic wrap. Cynthia called James before to make sure he would be willing to skin them. I asked Justin if he was going to set off or see any fireworks tonight. He said he had a few from Wal-Mart that he's going to set off for Alexis. I invited him to come over here to do them if he wanted, and said there would probably be others setting some off as well.

My dog Gig, part beagle, dalmatian, mostly et cetera, has lived through three different decades. He saw the fall of the Berlin Wall, the rise of globalization. Gig lived through the endless patterns of seasons with their floods and droughts; the freeze of winter and hot haze of summer. He witnessed me, from the age of 7 until today at 23-years-old. On this day in 1989 Gig was born. Our yard has never been the same.

I spend time with him often, as I always have. Yesterday our time was especially drawn, and I took my camera just for fun. He's much older now, in every way one can be. He has arthritis and is much slower. He's probably lost 85% of his hearing or more, and his sight isn't much better. I still see him running and skipping about every now and then, though. To be very honest, very blunt, however, I must say that I think this is his last birthday. I usually buy him some type of bone on which to chew, but I don't think he can this year. I fed him very well—lots of people food. He's old and feeble, but I think he's happy.

Here are the pictures I took. I eventually started taking pictures of the grass for some reason. I'm afraid that when I wind up buying the new camera I want that there will be many, many more pictures of this sort. Just preparing you.

Rocky River Springs Fishhouse, hidden away inside Aquadale, is one of the Hathcocks' annual destinations. Each year around the middle of March we gather to honor the head of our family with laughter, love, the sharing of memories, and, of course, fish. Edward "Buddy" Hathcock will turn 77 on March 15 and today was the day we celebrated. Most of the Hathcock clan was there: Jeremy, Amanda, Justin, Justin's girlfriend, Josh, Jodie, James, Cynthia, me, Carlyn, Gary, Penny, James Morgan, Eddie, Eddie's wife, Aunt Doris, Libby, John, Sue, Catie, Erin, Emily, and Papa.

I start to feel very nostalgic once I see the sign pointing toward the "fishhouse." Jeremy, Justin, Josh and I always reminisce a great deal. We range from 18 to 24 years old, yet we still talk about the past like we're wiping 40 years of dust from an old Bible. It's precious to me, and even though they never speak of it as such, I think they feel the same. I hope that all of our children will be able to play together and develop relationships like we had and have.

They're back from the beach now. A few hours after arriving, my brother broke his humerus—his first broken bone. He and his friend, Ethan, were playing around on their skateboards in front of the hotel. Carlyn's board shot out from under him and he just landed on his arm. Ouch. So, they drove down to a hospital in Myrtle Beach and were there until about 1:30am. Naturally, all of this happened on the first day, not the last. He didn't get to do much the rest of the week other than sitting in the room.

I went with my parents to Wal-Mart today. They were buying school supplies for my brother. It was a madhouse. A madhouse! I saw Eric Kimrey and Jeremy Cook in the electronics section. I don't think I had seen Eric since graduation, but I saw Jeremy at Arbor Day in 2002. Yes, they still hang out together like the purple conjoined monster twins on Sesame Street. They even still go fishing together. That makes me so happy to know that they're out on the lake on weekends like they did years ago. I guess it reminds me that some things—some good things—don't change.

My family is about to leave for the beach. They're going to North Myrtle, just like they do every year. When I was a kid that was second only to Christmas in our yearly traditions. Our family and uncle James' would always go together, usually the week of July 4th. Great times. I haven't been to a beach in over two years. Lindsey and I might drive to Nags Head in September.

Speaking of which, or whom, Lindsey is coming to visit in 11 days. I'm looking forward to seeing her; I'm very excited.

I haven't written much at all this month. I was busy with school and other things until just two days ago. Three more As were added to my GPA. I'm hoping to get it up to 3.75 by the time I hit Pfeiffer. Hm, maybe I should go to school in Virginia.

I'm hoping this isn't real. I haven't researched to see if it is, I guess because I'm afraid it will be. Lucas butchered the original triology enough in '97. Leave it be, George.

http://www.subservientchicken.com/
http://www.ncbuy.com/news/2004-07-19/1010116.html
Pre-season top 50
World's oldest dog?
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Last night I dreamt that I met Don Knotts, told him how great he was, and then he signed one of my copies of The Catcher in the Rye. So it goes without saying that that was the best dream ever. Right.

Papa's birthday is Monday, so tonight we had a get-together in his honor. He loves to go to Rocky River Springs Fish House, so we met out there. I had a lot of fun. Just being around my cousins qualifies any event as worth while. It had been a long time since I visited the old place. I forgot how homey it is. A very nostalgic feeling comes over me whenever we gather to eat there. Upon entering you are greeted by ancient arcade machines and just as ancient Peppermint Patties. They're still 20¢ each. I always buy one. (That's my brother in the game picture.) A vital component of "Rocky River" lies within the same room. The egg dispensing Flintstones machine has been there at least a century, and I would bet my collection of Chiquita banana stickers it's actually approaching it's bicentenary. After swallowing your quarter, Fred spins and says, "Yabba-dabba-do! Yabba-dabba-do!" The egg then clinks for your attention, and Mr. Flintstone utters, "Dino thanks you!" It was the biggest thrill in the world to exchange our fathers' quarters for two or three cents worth of plastic. I guess the suspense of discovering what dwelled inside well made up for the rest.

Just about everyone was there. David and Myrtle were absent, but I'm glad my great-uncle James came. I don't get to see him as much as I'd like to. I also saw Carl, Doris, and Libby, a few of my grandpa's siblings. I had not seen Carl in a very long time, despite the fact that he lives less than a mile from where I'm sitting. Aunt Doris kept (and still keeps) children for a living, and I would stay there some times when I was young. So, I was glad to see her. Also, I finally got to see Jeremy again.

Oh, and I noticed this, thought it was worth sharing. This arcade game was dated as being created on 6/26/89, by the way. I'm insane for details.

The "party" was nice. Eddie actually showed up. Everyone else was there except Jeremy and David. I don't know if the girls got into some cocaine before they came or what, but they were almost literally bouncing off the walls. James had recently bought a large television and the box was still in the living room. They had made a house of it, with doors and even windows. When you're a kid, huge boxes are just about the best thing you can get your hands on. I was jealous.

As some of us were going to our cars, John started telling of some of the things going on in Iraq. There was the story of two soldiers who stopped at a convenience store to buy drinks. One stayed beside the vehicle while the other went in to buy. The one outside opened his vest to let some air get in. As soon as he did, someone from the crowd put a knife through his heart. When the other guy came back he knelt beside him and took off his helmet, at which point a bullet sneaked into his brain. John told me other things that I "shouldn't repeat". That either means it's confidential or he made it up. One was the "fact" that two-thirds of all U.S. fatalities in Iraq are friendly fire. "That's something the public doesn't know about." Hmm. It's hard to know what to believe anyway. He's going to be in "AO Danger" (Baghdad), one of the worst places to be.

I don't know how UNC lost to Clemson. Ah well, like I said, anything can happen in sports.

Hey Kate, look at this.

I'm here for you, Fal.

Happy Birthday, Jenn! Wow, 22. Never thought you would've made it past 20 with all the drugs and drinking.

I went to Stanly to work on some stuff that's due next week but didn't get anything done because of something that happened as soon as I got there. Oh well, I'll have to finish it Monday.

If anyone is wondering what to get me for Groundhog Day, I would like bagpipes, a copy of "The Awakening of Intelligence" by Krishnamurti, and one of those bugs in amber deals.

Well, Carolina is 13-4. I guess I'm satisfied. They play Clemson today at noon. It should be an easy win, although anything can happen.

Tomorrow is the Super Bowl. I'm required to watch it, as are all North Carolina residents. I'd hate to be in Charlotte right now. You can probably smell redneck in the air. Every Toby Keith fan in the world will be going crazy. Don't you love how they support just about anything?

I guess I shouldn't say that about rednecks. They're not all bad. In fact, most of them are right nice folk. Some of my good friends are rednecks. Plus, it's not as if I don't have a little in me. That reminds me. My uncle John is leaving for Iraq soon. He'll be gone for at least a year. We're having a get-together tomorrow at James' house as a sort of sendoff. His birthday is February 2nd, also.

I haven't been able to snap my fingers with either hand for years. I injured my right thumb when I was little and the nail ended up coming completely off (but regrew, of course). I'm not sure about the left. Anyway, a couple of days ago I discovered I can finally snap my fingers again (right hand only). I've been snapping them about a million times a day.

I got out of bed at 8:30 and was at Grampa's house around 9:20. Justin wasn't there and Nathan shortly left for work (Food Lion) so it was just James, Papa, and I. We raked leaves for about two hours and then painted a few places that still needed it. I left for home around 12 to eat and watch the UNC-Kentucky game. At the half I went back over to Grampa's to help with what was left, but James had already finished and went home. I sat and talked with Grampa for a while and then went back home. My parents were going to visit him and check out the house around 4:30, so I went with them. James and his family had plans for everyone to go eat at Joel's Seafood, so we didn't get to visit long before they left. Nathan and I were the only ones to stay behind. We talked for a while as he washed his car, maybe 25 minutes, then I went home.

I got up at 7:30am, took a shower and all that, and arrived at Papa's house around nine. I finished the window I had started yesterday and then got to work on the last side of the house. After all the painting was finished we started to rake leaves. If you saw the picture from yesterday of that tree, then you can imagine the enormous amount of leaves it produces. My arms are stiff and sore. It's worth it, though; I know Grampa won't have to do any of it. We're going to meet again tomorrow morning and should finish everything.

I spent my day scraping and painting my grandfather's house. I woke up around 9:30 and was there at 11. James and Papa were the only ones there. I picked up a brush and started at it. Justin arrived about 15-20 minutes later. We scraped, painted, and talked for about an hour. Then, James decided we needed more paint, so Justin and I drove to Wal-Mart. We bought four gallons ($12.94 each). James asked us to pick him up a chicken platter with cole slaw and mashed potatoes with gravy. So, we headed to KFC for that. Then, back in Norwood, Justin stopped by Subway to get something for himself. Finally, we went to Bojangles to get a sausage and egg biscuit for Grampa. I just got a sausage biscuit and orange juice. By now you're probably wondering why I write down all this detailed information. I don't know. I've always done that. I love to look back on old writings and read little, insignificant things such as those. So, anyway, we all went in for about twenty minutes to eat and then got right back to work. I was high on a ladder for the majority of the afternoon. Justin and I talked all the while, reminiscing about when we were younger. That house really needed painting. The last time it was done was back in 1988. Grampa tackled it during his six-month retirement. The hardest thing about doing it this time was the scrubbing and scraping before we could start painting. It wasn't that bad, though. Papa gave Nathan, Justin, and I some money but I sincerely didn't want to take it. I tried to get him to take it back, but you know how grandparents are. We're going to meet back over there again tomorrow at 9 of the clock.

Last night we went to visit Papa. As we were going in, Nathan was going out. I decided to stay outside with Nathan because I don't see him as much as I used to. By the time I turned around he was already kneeling beside his Acura applying to one of the rims, of all things, Armor All. We had already exhausted the general pleasantries and [déjà vu just began] he immediately said, "Man, my girlfriend and I broke up." There was a brief silence. "We'd been together for two years." It hit me that when Sam and I broke up (also having been together for two years) he was the first person I saw other than my immediate family. I tried to [the déjà vu just ended] comfort him as best I could. I think I faired well. The description of his reaction and current feelings was nearly an exact match for mine seventeen months ago. I love my cousins as if they were brothers. I hated to see him that way; I could tell he had really been hurt, and still does. From his comments, though, I know he's getting back to normal. I made it clear that if he ever feels that way again, about anything, he could always come to see me. And to end this paragraph on a bit of sentimentality, that goes for any of you. I hear the collective "aww".

After conversing for twenty-five minutes or so he had to leave. I went in and found my place on the couch beside my brother and directly across from Papa (as I and rest the grandchildren lovingly refer to him). I love visiting him. I could sit on that old, familiar couch for hours just listening to him talk. I've said before, and surely I will again, that I love the past. So, hearing family events prior to my arrival interests me greatly. He told me of the time shortly after Pearl Harbor had been attacked. Before the news had become common knowledge an acquaintance of his remarked something similar to, "They bombed Pearl Harbor? Who is she?" I found that funny.

We put up the tree and everything thing this evening. It's kind of a tradition. We always do it a day or two after Thanksgiving. It's basically the same thing every year. We get the tree and various boxes down from the attic and start rummaging through them, discussing the memories of old ornaments and decorations. It usually takes a couple hours.

It's getting very close to my favorite time of year. College basketball is just about to start in full. Thanksgiving is a week away. It's almost time to put up the tree and decorations. And you can just start to feel Christmas coming. I love Christmas almost as much as a little kid does. I couldn't care less about the presents, though. That has nothing to do with it. There aren't many feelings greater than being huddled together with a couple dozen family members on Christmas Eve, with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer playing quietly on TV, and an old record player spinning out a 50-year-old holiday favorite. Add some festive food, a lot of laughs, and have it all highlighted by the red and green glow of the Christmas tree, and it all equals the best time of the year, and permanent memories.

Expect more ramblings like this before it's all over with.