Memorable weekend

I really hate that I always forget about Monday Night Football now that it's not on regular broadcast TV. That, and the fact that it has been replaced with Dancing with the Stars.

Which, by the way, seems a little off-kilter this season. Somebody please get that woman Samantha off the show! She's a terrible interviewer, and she makes me uncomfortable. I can only imagine what the competitors think of her. And what they say behind her back.

And I don't think I recall there ever being this amount of really, really negative criticism from the judges! Poor Rocco. I think he's hot.

Some of it's well-deserved, though. Kim K. has lost her personality. If she ever had one, that is...I know she's been on some reality TV show, but this is the first time I've ever actually seen her. Can lobotomies be reversed? She's definitely the next one I want to see go.

And for a gay man, Lance sure slapped one hot kiss on Lacey at the end of their routine. And how much does she rock...the female youth (and some not-so-much-youth) of the world heaved a collective sigh of disappointment when Lance came out of the closet, knowing that their chances with him were gone forever. And yet Lacey, Miss Thang, can say she's kissed him. That's one smart cookie right there.

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We got to host two great kids from the U of Wisconsin band Friday night, and were treated to two great halftime performances from the entire band, as well as the local high school band. M & J are both saxophone players, and both seniors. They were both very nice, and we had fun comparing & contrasting the traditions between the UW band and Longhorn Band.

At the performance, the RK had a great time. He was quite impressed after his first real exposure to a real-live marching band halftime show, and I think now he's starting to open up to the idea of participating when his time comes. And...the IB LOVED IT! He sat on my lap the whole time, completely mesmerized...and when it was time for applause, he was the most enthusiastic little clapper of us all. SO CUTE!

The UW band does something post-game called the 5th quarter. And it's crazy. We did the chicken dance, they played 'Tequila' and we were all doing the Pee-Wee Herman dance, and then three of the trombones came and played 'Hey Baby' in the stands right in front of us giving the RK an up close & personal view of just what he could become someday.

And did I mention how cute the IB was?

Watching both bands gave me those butterflies in my stomach, remembering days past. I think what impresses me so much about it is how you see all these kids dressed in the same outfit, and they're just milling around...running to find their spot, practicing their music, chatting with friends. And then...

...with the blow of a whistle, all of a sudden the kids are gone and one big cohesive unit now exists. It amazed me to see it Friday night, even after having been a part of groups just as these for so long.

Marching bands, and those who comprise them, get such a bum rap. They're really great, very cool kids who aren't afraid of hard work, and they still know how to have lots of fun.

After the show, we came back home, the guys ate some of the leftover pizza I'd ordered for our dinner, and we just about killed a 12-pack of beer while watching a baseball game. It was so great hearing their stories, and getting to share a few of mine. We talked sports, we compared our respective bands' traditions... But good grief, do they make me feel old! They were right around 2nd/3rd grade when I was their age. Gah.

The RK definitely thought they were pretty cool. He wanted to show them his room, his trombone, he even got it out and blew a few notes for us. And the IB didn't take long to warm up to them as well. I'm so glad I took that leap and sent that email saying I'd volunteer. While my house never made it to the condition I wanted it to be, I think it went quite well overall. I wish this was a regular thing around this town, but it's not. Just every few years or so does this happen. I hope we're still around to do it next time!

I was pretty bummed for them after watching that Wisconsin/Michigan football game, too. Talk about CHOKE! That had to be one long trip back to Madison Saturday night.

Didn't get to watch the Longhorns play, but I followed them on the computer while UofM was on the TV. That's my boys! HOOK 'EM! Because of their solid barbecuing of the Razorbacks, and a couple of...ahem...mishaps by 3 of the top five teams, Texas is now #5 in the polls! Yeehaw! This is leading up to a very, very exciting Red River Shootout on Oct. 11.

Off to bed now!

Oh no, here she goes...

I have so much to be thankful for. I happened upon a statistic today that was quite disturbing. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the July 2008 unemployment rate in the state of Michigan was 8.5%. That's 51st out of 51. The unemployment rate for Texas was 4.7%, which, shockingly, ranks 20th. I would've thought it would be much closer to the top. South Dakota has the top spot with a rate of 3.0%.

I also found a chart with historical highs and lows for each state. For the historically highest unemployment rate, Michigan once again takes the prize, with the shocking number of 16.9% back in November 1982. WOW. I'm glad I wasn't around here then. I've heard stories that there used to be a sign on the interstate heading out of Flint that said something like, "Would the last one out please turn out the lights."

I've also been keeping up with the rather contrary state of existence in my much-beloved and much-missed hometown of Midland, TX. According to the July 2008 Unemployment Rates for Metropolitan Areas, Midland ranks 11th in the nation with a rate of 3.1%, and Odessa is 20th with 3.7%. Ann Arbor, in comparison, is 272nd in the nation at 6.9%, which is higher than the national average of 6.1%.

Oh, how thankful I am for my job! Because of my own little microcosm of turmoil and upheaval, I was forced right out into the biggest economic turmoil and upheaval in the nation, with no degree and no recent job experience to speak of. But God took care of me. My job certainly isn't glamorous, and I certainly don't get paid very much, but it's still a good deal more than min. wage. My house isn't in foreclosure. My babies' bellies are nice and full as they sleep in their warm little cozy beds. My debt, while more than I care for it to be, is not beyond hope, and is not substantially growing. My budget to keep my tank full of gas is nominal (relatively speaking), since I have all of a four-mile round-trip commute.

God takes care of us everyday.

Watching the news these last couple of days has definitely started the wheels turning in my head. These giant financial brokers on the brink of disaster is quite....umm....interesting. As is the decision of the fed to bail them out. Gah. How did this happen?

Before I delve into that, I'm going to tell you a story.

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Once upon a time, a long, long, long, long...OK, it was March of 1973...a little baby girl was born. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and the apple of her parents' eyes. She had no idea of the prosperity that blessed the region into which she was born known as the Permian Basin. Oil was spewing out the bland, dry, mesquite-covered land like fountains on the Las Vegas strip . And money was spewing out of banks and savings & loans. Her father was right in the middle. Life was good. Great. The bubble was growing.

And then one day, the bubble popped. The little girl was now about 10 or so. The fountains ran dry. Once-sparkly, busy, prosperous office buildings that defined the city's skyline, were left to the elements. Even the legendary cornerstone of the local economy, The First National Bank of Midland, went belly-up. Her parents worked really hard to shelter her from any hardship that might be coming her way, but she still knew enough to understand that things were going to change when she overheard her father utter the word "bankruptcy" to her mother. Her father made a change in direction for his career, and as she entered into teenage-dom, she wasn't able to have all the cool designer fashions as the other kids at school...Guess? and Z Cavaricci jeans, five Swatches each complete with SwatchGuards on her arm. She didn't get a car for her 16th birthday and was forced to share her mother's hopelessly un-cool 1978 Oldsmobile which was so monstrous, it barely fit in the garage. She didn't know it at the time, but her mother's plans for her be a Symphony Debutante were nixed.

While nothing was being handed to her on a silver platter, she was a happy girl. She was actively involved in her high school's marching band, experiencing thrilling things such as traveling to our nation's capital to march for our new President. She got to spend three years at The Greatest University in the nation, The University of Texas, until once again, these financial pressures brought it to an end.

Today, she is a well-rounded, responsible woman with children of her own, who has been blessed with a unique and useful perspective of feast vs. famine. She has gained much wisdom through these experiences. She has learned how not to live beyond her means. She has learned how to find happiness in other places than Stuff. And she is so thankful that while she is in the midst of another terrible and destructive economic recession, she has enough for the time being. And she is at peace.

The End.

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Back to the collapse of the country's financial giants: Just how did it happen?

My theory: Sub-prime mortgages and other frivolous lending tactics. This country is driven to have Stuff, whether or not we can afford it. And when things are going good, the banks and financial brokers will dole out money to people, who at the time don't have any adequate means to pay it back. They all just assume things will keep heading in the same direction, and it'll just fall in their laps. Then when that doesn't happen...

How in the world did this society get to a place where it became totally acceptable to borrow so much dang money? What ever happened to cash on the barrelhead? Yes, I have a mortgage. And no, I would not have this beautiful house without being able to borrow the money to purchase it. At the time I purchased this house with the IX, I was fully planning on living in it with him, and not having to pay for it on my own. It's not a big fancy über-luxurious place. My neighbors are almost right on top of me. It's covered in...ack...siding. And it pretty much looks just like every other house in the neighborhood. We probably could've been approved for one of the sub-prime mortgages for a much grander dwelling, but we didn't even go down that road. We got a standard, 30-year fixed mortgage. We purchased what at the time, we could afford. And now it just so happens that I find myself facing a lot of hard work to keep it that way.

Anyway...we are a nation of borrowers. We don't like the concept of delayed gratification. And look at where it has gotten us. AGAIN.

I want a deck on the back of my house sooooo bad. But I'm not going to borrow to get it. I haven't bought a stitch of new clothing since I started going on job interviews. (And boy, do I need some new clothes. I dropped four sizes during my divorce and just about everything in my closet would either fall right off of me or swallow me up.) My boys don't have tons of clothes, and what they do have, are hand-me-downs, came from a resale shop, Target, or Meijer. I can't remember the last time I set foot in the mall.

I have no intention of becoming one of the casualties, and I'm thankful that my life experiences have led me to understand a little bit about how it happens. I'm not afraid to buckle down and do what it takes to maintain my 'meager' (by some standards) way of life, all the while thinking I could just about be the richest woman on the planet. Oh, I've got big plans for the future, don't get me wrong. And no, I don't know exactly how I'm going to bring them to fruition.

But let me put it this way...I know how I'm not going to do it.

A chip off the old block

I find it quite interesting that during the course of this blog, I have only mentioned once or twice something that is such a huge part of me. (Here is the only place I've ever gone into any detail about it.)

This is something that has really defined me. Playing the flute was my thang. Not just my thing, but my thang. And I was good. Really good. I was the first alternate for the all-state band in my area my senior year of high school. I played in church. I played in college. Before moving across the metro Detroit area a couple years back, having another baby, and then getting divorced and becoming a single mom, I was actually working to start up a bit of a career at it. I played in a flute choir for five or so years. When my dad passed away, I spent somewhere in the neighborhood of $6000 on my dream flute with the leftover insurance money (after paying off my car and credit cards). I played in a couple of weddings, and got an amazing gig playing in a nearby suburb's 16-performance production of The Music Man. I actually earned about $600 for that! I was a member of the National Flute Association, as well as a much smaller regional flute networking group that had a flute choir that I participated in. I even attended the NFA's annual convention in Washington D.C. a few years back.

It's my passion.

But when the shit really hit the fan in my life, I had to prioritize. And that was the first thing to go. I've missed it. That beautiful instrument has been sitting. Collecting dust. Quite sad. I'm just now starting to feel like everything else might be getting in order enough that I could think about dusting it off again.

But that's not my point of this post. The last sentence of the section of the post I linked to earlier is.

"I'm hoping I can get the RK to follow in my bandgeeky ways."

The RK thus far hasn't shown any interest in music, as a listener, or a performer. I've been quite disappointed in that, but just for my own selfish reasons. He's got to find his own thang, and I've accepted the fact that music just might not be it. He's drifting in a more techy, science-geek direction. He loves the later Star Trek series-es. He can watch the Discovery Channel all the live-long day. He loves studying weather radar maps on the computer. He asks me questions about nature on a daily basis that I don't have a clue how to answer. Despite my own personal letdown, it's been so cool watching him pick his own direction in life.

He just started the fifth grade. In this school district, fifth grade is when they start the kids on musical instruments. I don't think it's mandatory, but my impression is that the majority of the kids go through it. The RK has been rather cool to the whole thing; that is, until the time for his fitting approached. He got so excited about it, even calling me at work the other day to ask if I had gotten the call from the band technician about setting up the appointment yet. So I'm getting pretty excited at this point. It's so great to see my child so excited about something like this!

Yesterday was the big day. For the fitting during the school day, I told him to at least make a sound on every instrument, even though he had already picked clarinet & violin as his first two choices. He said OK. Then when we went back up to the school last night, he got to mess around on a few more (I even made him try to make a sound on a flute). The big winner was the trombone, of all things! He said he had tried one earlier in the day, but when he picked it up last night, he got an amazing sound on it right off the bat! The technician said it was the best sound he had heard from any of the students. So of course, the RK starts getting really excited.

So out of the school we came, the RK carrying a brand new (to him) trombone! And he is just so proud of it. He started working through the the method book & DVD this morning, and is already making progress.

My dream is coming true! However, there still might be one little hiccup in my diabolical plan. The RK has said he does not want to be in the marching band. Whaha? But...but...I WANNA BE A BAND MOM!!! I'm still not too worried about it at this point, because marching doesn't start until ninth grade. I told him not to rule it out at this point, because it's still a long way off. To improve my chances of the diabolical plan coming to fruition, I will probably take the RK to some of the high school football games so he can watch the high school band at halftime. Perhaps that will light a fire in him.

All in all, yesterday was quite a milestone in the RK's life. And I'm just about the happiest mom in the universe! Even if he ends up not pursuing it long-term, it's still going to play a big role in defining who he is and what he will become.

It's so cool seeing him with a trombone. I guess because I had never tried to picture it before, it looks kind of strange at this point. Also, that whole 'defining who he is' thing. I'm wondering if this will really be a something that defines him like the flute did for me?

Finding out will be fun...

They broke the mold for him...

[Updated: On the advice of two of my readers and dear friends, Eric and In_spired, I'm republishing this post with my doctor's full name and a link to his obit to increase the possibility that his family might find it. Thanks for your advice and encouragement!]

One thing I wanted to talk about on my last post was something I found in the Midland newspaper's obituaries a few days ago. I'm glad I waited to talk about this now, because this definitely deserves a post of its own.

For those of you who are located in the Midland area, you may have seen this as well, and might possibly even have direct knowledge of the man I'm about to speak of.

It turns out that my pediatrician for the first two decades of my life, Dr. Allen, passed away last week. He was a wonderful doctor, and got me through some extremely rough times, one of the most notable being scarlet fever on my sixth birthday. I had some allergy issues as well, and when I was talking with my mom last night, she reminisced about how she'd take me by the doctor's office once every other week for an allergy shot. She mentioned how she used to marvel at how I'd hop out of the car, run in, disappear for a moment or two, and run back out. All by myself. I don't remember at what ages I did this, but I know it was during elementary school.

Anyway, this man was such a blessing to the field of pediatrics. In that same discussion with my mom, I asked her if she had any idea if Dr. Allen had had his office built himself, or if it already existed when he moved his practice into it. She said she's pretty sure he built it himself. And my reason for asking that was because of the brilliant design this little building has. It was quite small, with a basic rectangular shape. There were five doors stretching across the street-facing side. The first door on the left had no markings of any kind (except for perhaps the address number next to the doorjamb), and each of the subsequent four doors were adorned with a '1,' '2,' '3,' or '4' in big wooden numerals. That first door led into the waiting and reception area, and the other four were private entrances into the four exam rooms.

You see, Dr. Allen had the insight and general common sense to arrange his facility in a way that those children who were there to have a possibly contagious illness treated were instructed to wait in their car instead of in the waiting area where their maladies could be transferred to other patients. I remember so many times pulling into that parking lot, my mom running in to announce our arrival, and back out she'd come to wait with me, who more than likely was dying. After a few minutes, one of the four numbered doors would open up, and through the crack my mom had created in the car window, we'd hear the nurse holler, "Patricia!" And there we'd go, straight into the exam room.

Again I must say, "Brilliant!" I've never seen that anywhere else since.

Once in the exam room, I remember my mom often getting very impatient with Dr. Allen, because through the rather thin walls, we could hear him chatting it up with other patients' parents while we sat there, me often being in utter misery, waiting. I don't really know if we usually waited all that long, given that my age limited my perspective as to what was a long wait and what wasn't. But finally, Dr. Allen would come in, examine me, harrass me a little if I wasn't feeling all that bad, and then he'd sit and chat with my mom for a few moments while he wrote out a script and/or announced if I'd be getting a shot. Oh, the anxiety that would well up in me when he'd go sit in that chair after completing the exam! I'd hang on his every word waiting to hear if a shot was coming.

Aaaahhh yes....the shots. Those aforementioned allergy shots were obviously no big deal. But those that I got to help cure an illness came in those big, long, scary, fat, glass syringes. And they didn't go in my arm. They went into my butt.

I remember many instances of getting sick enough when I was still quite small to prompt my mom to announce to me, as I was laying there dying on the couch, that it was time to call Dr. Allen. I'd holler and scream and cry, "Nooooooooo, Mom! Please, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I don't want to get a shot!" And bless her heart...she wouldn't be swayed by this pitiful, pathetic wailing of mine, she'd call, and if I needed a shot, I always soldiered through it. And I know my mom had to soldier through forcing me into such a torturous situation, even though it was for my own good.

And as I grew, I began to notice that these big, hairy shots would get me to feeling better before sunset that same day. So as the number of candles steadily increased on my birthday cakes, I still came down with these life-threatening illnesses from time to time. But in place of that pathetic wailing, out of my mouth would come these words: "Mom, would you call Dr. Allen? I think I could use a shot."

He even made it possible to receive calls of an emergency nature after hours, or on his days off (which I think besides the weekends, were Wednesdays.)

Dr. Allen had a marvelous sense of humor and bedside manner as well. Yes, he would harrass his patients, but in a very loving, at-ease sort of way. Back when I was in that pitiful wailing stage of life, Dr. Allen referred to me as "The Princess." And then after I had matured somewhat and was no longer a 'little' girl, I noticed that I had graduated to "The Queen." (Very apropos, I might add.) I can remember my mom mentioning having run into Dr. Allen at the grocery store one time and him having inquired about The Queen.

Now that I am grown, (in no small part to his having saved my life multiple times) and have boys of my own, I judge every pediatrician that treats them by these lofty standards. And I must admit I've never found a doctor coming anywhere close to Dr. Allen.

This world has lost a good one. Fare thee well, doctor. You will be sorely missed!

A meme, a dream, and more blowin' off steam

Woohoo! Yeehaw! The Silver Lining's first meme! I've been tagged by my new bloggybuddy Ba Doozie. So here we go...seven interesting facts about me.

1. I have a tattoo of the state flag of Texas on my right ankle. I didn't get it until I was 30 years old, and I had lived out of the state for more than six years. It seems the longer I'm away, the more homesick I get. I'm still very proud of this tattoo, and still very glad I got it. Should I ever decide to get another tattoo, it will be something Texas-related. Perhaps a bluebonnet. Or given that I bleed burnt orange, perhaps something Longhorns-related.
2. I'm very partcular about how I unload the dishwasher. For those items that I have a lot more of than what I can use between dishwashings, the clean items go in the back, or get stacked on the bottom, so the ones that weren't used this particular wash cycle will get used the next time around. It just seems pointless to have eight really cool ginormous polycarbonate cups when I can only use two or three before I run the dishwasher again.
3. Although I live in the capital of American automotive manufacturing, I drive a Honda. And I love it. It's the very first brand new car I've ever bought, and although it's only three years old, it's already paid for. I plan on driving it right into the ground. The domestically-made cars I've had in the past have all had numerous issues, and with the horrible road conditions around southeast Michigan, I believe only a foreign-made vehicle has been designed well enough to stand this kind of abuse for its intended lifespan. I feel bad for not doing more to support the local economy, but as soon as the engineers that work for the Big 3 can design a small SUV that will hold up as well as a Japanese-designed small SUV, I'm sticking with the import. Sorry.
4. I was a bigtime band geek in high school and even college. I joined the band in the seventh grade, and found my niche. I learned so much about setting a high standard of excellence, gaining success through hard work, working together and cooperating for a common goal, and it was some pretty darn good exercise that took care of my P.E. credits through high school. Around the state of Texas, being in band is cool...you get out of a lot of days of school to take some pretty cool trips. I loved band so much, I went to the University of Texas and joined the 350+ member-strong Showband of the Southwest. That was pretty cool. I'm hoping I can get the RK to follow in my bandgeeky ways.
5. Let's see....three more...oh, I have one. My mother was 47 years old when she gave birth to me. Yup. That's right. I have two half-brothers who were already in their twenties when I was born, and I even have a niece that's older than me. Unfortunately, though, I'm not really close with either of my brothers, given that I didn't grow up in the same household with them. But my mom rocks. She's fast approaching her 82nd birthday, is still in relatively good health, and she and I are closer now than we ever were. Love ya, Mom! (I'm giving her a shout-out here even though she has no idea this blog exists.)
6. I hate cleaning house, but I'm getting better at it. In a twisted way, this directly relates to Interesting Thing About Me #5. My mom always wanted a little girl after having two boys, and she finally got her 22 years after her second boy was born! So I grew up a princess. I didn't receive very much discipline growing up, because as it turns out, my will was often a lot stronger than my mom's. So I'd get everything done for me after being able to dig in my heels and hold out longer in our continous staring contest of life. So now I'm having to kick my own ass and I'm finally learning how to take responsibility for my own domain. And I'm also now using my strong will to make sure my sons don't grow up like I did.
7. I'm a huge fan of the Looney Tunes cartoons that Warner Bros. produced through the majority of the 20th century. My favorites are the ones from the 50's, when Chuck Jones was in his prime. I've always loved Looney Tunes, but as I grew up, I appreciated them even more, because I began to realize that they were created by grown men. I own the four-disc Golden Collection on DVD. "Rabbit season!" "Duck season!" "Rabbit season!" "Duck season!" Hee hee...gotta love it.

So there ya go, Ba Doozie! Thanks! That was fun!

I had a weird dream this morning before I got up. I dreamed I was at a pool at some sort of athletic center somewhere in Texas. I was practicing my diving skills off the 3M board (which in reality, I'm terrified of the 3M board). I remember coming up from a dive, looking over at the edge of the pool, and seeing my boyfriend from college. I had to do a double-take to make sure it was really him, since I haven't seen him in more than ten years. He saw me too, and we started talking. His wife was there with him, and just as I always thought, she's a mousy, insecure, mom-type, and when she sees us talking, she gets pretty upset, even though at this point she has no idea who I am. So CB (College Boyfriend) ditches the wife somehow, and he and I start in on pretty deep conversation. His side of it basically has to do with how his marriage is a mistake, and how seeing me makes him want to try to revisit our relationship. We spend the better part of the day together getting reacquainted after all these years, and reviving our attraction for each other.

I learn about why he's there at this athletic facility. And this is funny. It turns out there's going to be a big pool party there later that day, and he's been hired to set up the music system. The company he happens to work for specializes in sound systems acoustically designed for areas with swimming pools. Crazy, I know.

That's really all I remember of the dream, except that we did hold hands from time to time throughout the day, and I could practically feel electricity flowing between our fingers. It seems to me that the only time I've ever felt this kind of mutual attraction has been in my dreams and never real life. In fact, I've started to wonder if anything of this level is actually possible in real life.

OK, so now I'll fill y'all in on the real side of CB. He was in Longhorn Band, and that's how we met. We dated for almost two years, and when we broke up, it was a mutual decision between us that we would be much better off as friends. So basically, how it went was we decided to break up, we both cried a little, then decided to go get some lunch. We started seeing other people, and here's why I dreamed of his wife like I did. His first girlfriend after we broke up HATED me. She was so intimidated by me and the friendship CB & I continued to have. But CB wouldn't let her come between our friendship, which I think only hurt their relationship. The amount of time they dated could be measured in years, though. She just couldn't get it through her head that I was absolutely no threat to her or her relationship with CB. Now don't get me wrong - I totally understand why she had this type of issue initially, but it just seems that over time, she'd start to understand the nature of my recently-revised relationship with her boyfriend.

So after I left college and moved back home, we kept in touch, and even after I met the IH, we actually took a weekend trip to Austin and stayed with CB & his roommate. And it worked out great. IH & I basically did our own thing the whole time we were there, and the IH saw that what I said about my relationship with CB was true. Nope, no threats there. Unfortunately, I don't think he ever really saw it that way, though.

CB and I continued to keep in touch even after I moved to Indianapolis with IH. CB was still dating the same girl that hated me, and I remember getting phone calls in the middle of the night a few times when they were having some problems. They eventually broke up, and the last communication I received from him was a wedding invitation right after we had moved to Michigan. To another girl, of course. And I didn't recognize the name. I continued to send him birthday and Christmas cards with never receiving any response. We even emailed some the last year or so of our contact, but his address was on the UT servers, and after he graduated, he had to forfeit his account. I never found out a new email address for him after that.

Over the years, I've always been so curious what has gone on with him, and have tried multiple times to get in touch with him again. Luckily, he has an unusual last name, so Google actually turned up some clues. One thing that was really funny about his profession in my dream was that he's not anywhere near inclined in the sound/electronics industry. He got his degree in botany. He loves plants, trees, etc. And I learned a lot about botany from him. Anyhoo, my Google hits included a couple of pages from a website talking about certain plants that had his name on the credits. I also hit on his Amazon.com wishlist, which included a potty training book for little girls. So from that I gathered that he was indeed working in the botany industry, and that he had a daughter. Cool.

He grew up in an area of Texas that was hit hard by hurricane Wilma (or was it Rita? The second one that hit the gulf coast not too long after Katrina, anyway) a couple of years ago, so this got me thinking about him and hoping his family were all OK after the devastation. He was named after his father, so another site I came across on my Google search was a high school reunion site for his dad. This included an email directory, so I tried sending an email to his dad. Never got a response. I think that might be the last time I tried to get back in contact.

And now that I had this dream, it's gotten my curiosity peaked again. I so want to hear what he's been doing the last decade of our lives. But now especially with what I've been going through, it might not be very appropriate to try again. Another Google search couldn't hurt, though.

This post has taken me way too long, so that is all. For now.