Besides the point that I don’t write nearly as much as I’d like, thought it’d be good to post a quick share.

Tomorrow I’ll be joining my mom and brother on a brief trip to Pennsylvania, New York, and New Jersey.  Now this may not seem like a monumental announcement or a big deal to anyone, but we’ll be visiting family (aunts, uncles and cousins) that I haven’t seen in 9 years.

The catalyst for initiating this 6 day journey was the passing of my grandpa, George Ward, my mom’s dad.  I was never close to him and didn’t really know Grandpa George all that well.  Living 3,000 miles away in Washington for the majority of my life may have had something to do with that.  Thing is, Grandpa George was the only grandfather I had.  My own dad’s father died at age 42 when my dad was only 12.

I have a few fond memories of Grandpa George though.  I remember him reading The Night Before Christmas and writing me letters with intentional spelling errors for me to correct and send back.  I remember his boisterous laugh and a knack for storytelling.  Grandpa George was not a great man, and he was quite far from perfect, but this is how I’ll choose to remember him.

And so while we’ll be traveling to commemorate the passing of a family patriarch, I am eternally grateful for the chance to connect with aunts, uncles and cousins I’ve missed so dearly over the years.

One of the best things about loving a woman is that you get to be every poet or songwriter in history and it’s not plaigarism.

Love Your Love The Most
originally by Eric Church (youtube)
adapted with dorky comments by KC and dedicated to Leanne, my lovely patient wife who indulges my occassional idiocy with grace and a gentle smile

I Love Sleeping In On Saturdays (even if it’s early for normal folks)
And I Love College Football Games (after you introduced me to the NFL)
I Love Not Acting My Age (which is most the time)
And A Good Barbeque (your chicken and ribs are mighty fine)

Yes I Love Good Cold Beer (or at least an icy hard cider)
And Mustard On My Fries (that’s a lie ketchup is better)
I Love A Good Loud Honky Tonk (you rock my world little country girl)
That Rocks On Friday Night (sing it loud!)
And Hell Yes I Love My Truck (oh wait I ride the bus…)
But I Want You To Know (are you listening?)
Honey I Love Your Love The Most (honey I love your love the most)

Yeah I Love Scuffed Up Cowboy Boots (even if I only have one pair)
And Broken Tore Up Jeans (that I can’t wear on casual Fridays)
A Four Wheel Drive Eight Point Bucks (it could happen)
And Rocky Road Ice Cream (although cookie dough’s my fav)
And Hell Yes I Love My Dog (that we will never have)
And Jack D In My Coke (captain morgan works too)
But Honey I Love Your Love (I really do)
Yeah I Love Your Love (did you hear me?)
Honey I Love Your Love The Most (honey I love your love the most)

About two years ago now I went on a creative binge and started writing what was intended to be a web-book thriller.  Not like an e-book you’d read on a Kindle/iPhone, but a novel of sorts where each chapter was posted online for folks to read at their leisure.

Anyway, got thru an intro and three chapters before getting too busy, and while now is not the time to be exploring creative writing projects (between work, family, and MBA studies sleep deprivation is already setting in) would like to pick up this story where it left off and slowly add to it as my dwindling spare time allows.

So if you’re bored and feel like indulging a wannabe writer in his passive endeavor at conjuring mindless literary entertainment, here’s the backdrop on Johnny “Ice” O’Connor:

Introduction

Chapter #1

Chapter #2

Chapter #3

Feedback is always welcome, the more inflammatory the better (I just wanted to use the word inflammatory, but seriously let me know what you think).

“Really?  Seriously?! You’re going to give me a ticket for jaywalking?!?!“

That is what was going through my mind on one fateful morning back in February before I’d had my coffee.

It had started like any typical day, up early to workout, get the kids ready for school, hussle to the bus stop to catch the metro #111, and wake up in time to hop off in front of the King County Courthouse in Seattle.

All was going well until the light at this crosswalk changed to a red hand just as my foot hit the pavement.

Now keep in mind that most crosswalks in Seattle countdown from 10 or as high as 17 to allow for pedestrians to safely make it across the treacherous street and avoid being pancaked by maniacal bus operators or absent minded drivers.

No such luck, the red hand blinked it’s ominous warning and I bolted for the opposite curb.  The rubber of my sneakers hit the edge just as the light turned green.  My gray area offense might have gone unnoticed by the boys in blue if it hadn’t been for some uptight bus driver who decided to blare his horn in protest of my successful dash.

After waving over my head quickly at the bus in a half-hearted apology I proceeded to power-walk to catch a shuttle to the Starbucks office.  All of a sudden a Ray Ban wearing motorcycle cop skids up onto the sidewalk directly in front of me and proceeds to give me the Nth degree for being reckless.  Always respectful of law enforcement I politely apologized and assured him I would be more careful in the future.

No big deal, right?  An intimidating warning, well faked apology and I’m off about my day.  DING! Wrong!

He writes me a ticket!  While I am flabbergasted this guy is obviously not to be trifled with so I take it in stride and figure it’ll be easy to get out of or might pay a small fine.

Nope, it’s $56!  But since I called the municipal court twice in a month and it hadn’t been filed yet I figured the cop was bluffing and I’m scot free.

Wrong again.  He finally filed it, but since I didn’t do anything they tacked on a $52 fee so now jaywalking in Seattle while bums are smoking weed and harassing passersby all around costs me $108 today.

Crimany!!

Nothing more warms the heart of a father on his way out the door to work than to hear his little toddler say, “Bye-bye Daddy. I love you.”