So, one day I was sitting at my desk studying and freezing my butt off. Apparently wearing coo-lats and a t-shirt don’t suffice in an Arizona winter with the ceiling fan stuck to ‘on’. I went into the bedroom and grabbed a pair of knee high rainbow striped toe socks. Then I remembered that I’d be picking up the neighbors an hour later… Oh, well I thought, it’s not like I’ll have to get out of the car or anything…

So, I drive to Sky Harbor Airport and use the cell phone connection to determine my neighbors’ whereabouts. After their baggage is corraled, we meet up outside the south entrance. There is a struggle as the stuff goes in the trunk and I realize my neighbor is in a bit of pain. I hop out to help lift the larger bag and support the old foggies and such … then notice the dude fiddling with his phone. Odd. Oh shit, he’s taking my pic. I look down, then hop back in the car quickly.

The conversation on the way home encompasses my choice of sockwear and we have an interesting discussion regarding fashion faus paus. Yeah, mine. Just. Mine.

My pic ends up posted on Twitter and there is an inside joke circulating about my affiliation with knee high socks. Joy. Pure joy ensues…

However, I am one to see the silver lining amongst the, well crap, I suppose. After a few jokes appear on Twitter, I notice I’m being followed by Chrissy @kneehighsocks09. Awesome! fashion followers.

Shortly thereafter Chrissy sends a direct message that she’d like to send me free socks to review on my blog. Hell yeah! No contest. Free shit rocks! Plus, I collect socks. What can I say. Warm feet rock. Cold feet make me want to shake and cry and huddle under a rock. Essentially, I said yes, please and got notice that the socks were en route.

Now, let’s note that Donna rarely gets packages. Also, let’s note that Donna never gets free stuff in the mail. Both of which make Donna happy. So, let’s just imagine Donna hopping around the house, through the entryway, down the hallway, into her office, etc. with pure joy eminating from her inner being when the package came. You can’t ask for much more than free stuff you actually like and can use.

So, next came the unveiling. One pair: pink and grey. Cool colors, alright, moving on. Next pair: green with white stripe at the top. Alright. also cool. Tube socks are a bit of a worry, but the color is spot-on with my inner Irish chick. Third pair: black argyle with RED accents. Crap. Red. Should’ve mentioned to Chrissy that red is my least favorite color. But, well, I kinda’ like them. (Don’t tell al the people who know I hate red, it will ruin my reputation). The argyle ones also have a foot shape, which is appealing.

Now, when to wear them. Hmmm. Work this week. Nothing to match. What to do?

Priorities overwhelm. Work interferes. Etc. What can I say?

A week passes, then I’m sitting at my desk planning the weekend and wondering how all will get down with the activities I have planned. Then I look to my left and notice the socks. They stare at me with a power I cannot decribe in words. I know that I am behind in what is to be a regret if I do not comply in an appropriate manner. Yes, folks, this is an inside conversation that few with recognize because few of you understand Type A behavior with an obsessive compulsive hook.

Anyhow, I realize that the zoo is a perfect opportunity to wear my first pair of Chrissy’s Knee Socks. I plan my day, move on, and get some sleep.

Now, I must say that in the pandemonium that ensued the next morning, I had doubts and slipped a spare pair of socks into my female-purse (you know, man purse, but for chicks). It was not needed. See below. I rocked the socks. Pink and grey with my pink “Ciao Bello” shirt from Italy. Love it. Was worried about the tube sock shape, but it was not an issue. Also, they stayed up! I did not expect them to. Granted, they did not exactly reach my knees, but they did go pretty far up the calf. Additionally, the socks did not have that elastic that sucks the blood flow out of your extremities. The comfort was perfect. After a couple hours, the one started to be affected by gravity, but it was not an annoyance. I jerked it back upright and all was well. The tube shape was not a factor and, quite frankly, I’m still wearing this pair as I write. At this point, they’ve been keeping my ankles company, but I don’t care. I’ve enjoyed my socks today and that’s not something I get to say on a daily occasion.

Chrissy, you rock! I can’t wait to wear my next two pairs. More to follow…

This morning we Devon and I were busy in the kitchen, making breakfast and cleaning up. Claire had been playing in her little tent this week and pretending there were wolves and monsters and such around, requiring her to “hide” in the tent and play games.

Well, as I’m cooking I hear her scream bloody murder and run towards the kitchen. Knowing my kid and her standard volume, I barely flinched and continued my chore, concerned, but not panicked. Devon, however, caught on a bit sooner, shut off the faucet, and met her on the edge of the living room.

Claire screamed “there’s something in the cave!”. I’m thinking there is a bug and am still not too worried, but I take over hugging duty while Devon investigates the beast.

A moment later Devon exclaims “it’s a bird!”. A what?

I edge closer, still holding a hyperventilating Claire.

A dove, sitting on the other edge of our fireplace guard, calmly sits and looks over its surroundings. I pause, knowing that the flue was closed this winter, and wonder how this bird managed to get down the chimney and why it brought so much dirt into my house.

Then another thought occurred to me. How are we going to get this bird out???

I throw open the sliding glass doors as Devon removes the guard and I begin calling to this bird as though I speak the language.

It flaps wildly around the room.

So does Claire and Devon.

He runs to the garage. I run to the kitchen. I mean, I need to check on breakfast to – live goes on.

Then the bird comes into the kitchen and I scream. (It was aimed at my head, of course).

Devon charges in with a fishing net.

Seriously.

My screams panic the bird, who reroutes its course into my office. Drat! Why weren’t the other doors shut?

Devon chases after the bird; I reach for the camera.

The dove is released on the porch, flies away, and directly into our brick fence. It bounces off, lands on its back, feet in the air, and doesn’t move.

I grab a stick and flip it over, take a few pictures, leave it with a few parting thoughts, and return to the porch, happy the dog has been safely locked in the dog run…

After scrubbing our hands, eating breakfast, and going on about our day, Claire approaches me.

Mom?

Yes Claire?

I know what we can call the bird.

What?

Santa Claus!

[insert lightbulb above Donna's head]

Why Claire, that’s a great idea.  You know what mama thinks?

What mom?

I think Santa sent the dove to be sure you were being a good little girl.

No, it’s not Christmas yet.

It’s halfway there Claire; this is when Santa checks on kids.

Ah, man…

So, a neutron walks in to a bar and asks for a drink. The bartender sets down a beer and walks away.

Neutron says, “Hey, what do I owe you for the drink?”

Bartender: “For you, sir, no charge.”

Sometime in the early 1990s during high school I began hanging out at the Beehive Coffeehouse on East Carson Street in the Southside of Pittsburgh. Some of my earlier memories were when it was only one store front wide (now it’s three), and we’d play Galaga in the back room by the leather couch. The female manager had blonde and pink hair, and she’d sleep back there. This must’ve been about later 1990 or early 1991. I know this because I could drive then, and I had my blue Dodge Colt. I remember several months where I’d make sure I came down here once a day even if it was just to grab a coffee and play some video games. In the summer, the doors would be open and it’d be muggy as hell here.

After high school I went away to Penn State , but none of the State College coffee houses could do this place justice. I would return on weekends and summers, and always be here. I knew the people from the locals who hung out here to the baristas (some of whom are still here!). I remember in 1992 seeing Jason Szalla hang work he did at Baldwin High School from the ceiling in the Beehive. I remember the different people who’d flirt with each other, and some of the girls who flirted with me. One of whom, in the late 1990s, I still know. Alicia talked to me one night for hours. She was a Fordham student who loved iguanas and worked at VH1. We still know her, and she is still here.

I remember playing cards here through the mid-1990s. Spades was the game, and each night we’d have several tables going all at once. Elliot was a character, and we can to really enjoy his company. One guy we played with had to run off to not go to jail. I think his name was Fruit. An odd fellow. Another guy was just wild. Donna and I ruled the table by this time.

Occasionally famous people would walk in. I saw Patrick Stewart near the front one night, and another night I met Robert Downey Jr buying coffee. He suggested I read Wonderboys which they were filming nearby. I read it that night at a front table. The whole thing.

I remember grad school. The Beehive was the place to study. I’d walk across the 10th street bridge from Duquesne University, and it didn’t matter if it was -10 with the wind chill factor. I’d still do it. I would sit here and write, read, study. I remember bringing my first laptop down here for the first time.

By this time my mother was hanging out here too. Everyone called her Mum. Even the old people. She was everyone’s mother. The funny thing was when we, her biological children, called her “mum” no one knew we were really the children. Jaime got in with Scott and Z the owners, and he followed them from project to project. I buried myself in books when I had to study and cards when I had some time off.

In the summer of 1998, I was in the Beehive when Donna returned from school for the summer. We were just friends then and nothing was going on. I told her to meet me at the Beehive. I still remember sitting in a large red booth ten feet from where I sit when she came in the door. That was May. By July we were back together, and we spent much of that summer in the Beehive.

By fall I was student teaching at Mt Lebanon High School and Donna was back at Lockhaven for her senior year. One night we went out to Dee’s, and I got drunk. I decided to head to the Beehive to sit it off and get some coffee. One of my students walked in! Not the best idea (although I was of age).

By summer of 1999 Donna and I were engaged and moved to Arizona. Alicia came to the wedding; she framed shots of the Beehive for us. Black and whites of some things we will never forget.

Since then, the first few years we’d try to come in. Slowly, it was shifting. We knew less people. The building expanded to a second nonsmoking room (perfect since it was always smokey in here!). My Mum stopped coming and Meghan moved to Colorado.

Until today now I could not tell you the last time I was here. 2005? 2004? People grow and change, but this place. This place stays the same. It’s always for those memories. Today I sit here. Christmas 2008 wondering when I will be back here. Maybe next Christmas (have no trips planned to PA until then), or maybe it won’t be until Claire is older and I can tell her the stories. We will see.

Took Claire skiing on the 23rd, and you know, I thought it was going to be terribly tedious but I didn’t mind it. It had it’s glitches, but that just added to the panache. The day before I kept calling Tiny Tots ski school to get her an early morning private lesson, but I kept getting their voice mail. I left multiple messages, but nothing.

When we got to 7Springs yesterday morning, the lady at Tiny Tots said she had no availability until 1pm. My response was “My family’s been coming here since 1962. My dad worked here for several years. I learned to ski here 32 years ago and both of my siblings learned here, too. My father would like to get my 3 1/2 year old a private lesson. Now what can we do about this?” The lady’s jaw about fell to the floor.

Needless to say, after she spoke with her supervisor, Claire had a lesson 20 minutes later. Miss Kelsey, her teacher, and I dressed her, and then the Tiny Tot’s ladies told me to leave her backpack and boots. They’d be ok right where they were, they said.

Miss Kelsey did the best she could with Claire, but sometimes Claire doesn’t like to listen. She pulls the same stunt with her swim teacher, Miss Maribel. My dad, brother, and I skiied elsewhere so Claire wouldn’t get distracted. And after an hour I went to pick up Claire at the Tiny Tot’s area. Miss Kelsey gave us her report card and told us her strengths. We took a photo of the two of them, and then Miss Kelsey went off for her next lesson. I began dressing Claire, but then went to grab her boots. No boots. Looked around. Checked in her bag. Checked in my bag. No boots. Asked the lady who didn’t remember the boots. Miss Kelsey was asked. She definitely remember the boots since she took them off Claire to put on her ski boots. Still no boots. Finally the manager gave us a smaller pair of rubber boots someone left, so Claire could go to up to lunch with the three of us (who also needed a break). She said to stop by later and check; in the meantime, they’d keep looking.

I dropped Claire off with Uncle Jaime, and I walked over to the lodge where there’s a Willis Ski Shop. Gina, the clerk, said that they in deed sold children’s boots. I found a nice pair in Claire’s size, and Gina offered to hold them for me.

After lunch we tried to the skiing bit again with Claire, but she didn’t want anything to do with it. I finally got her down the mountain and into the lodge. Jaime was changing her clothes, and I ran down to Tiny Tot’s. They did indeed NOT find her boots. The manager Pam apologized profusely and proceeded to refund me the money from her lesson, so I could go upstairs and get “free” $50.00 EMU boots for my kid. Not a bad Christmas from 7Springs. Ho ho ho.

In a world that is further and further more thrust into the panopticon, we now have a proliferation of speed cameras in and around Phoenix. I hate them. I drive fast. Look, if I am safe and go a little faster than the next guy, then who cares? I get the problems with zooming down the highway and flipping your truck because you’re an idiot, but when you’re driving out along the Mogollon Rim at 65 and come down into Prescott and the speed limit immediately shifts to 45 then it’s not fair. Forget it. This sucked, and it happened to me.

It wouldn’t have been that bad if 1) I didn’t have a ticket a few weeks earlier when Claire was sick and I was rushing to the doctor’s, and 2) if I didn’t already go to traffic school within the last two years. Damn.

Look, I am not unsafe, but if I always obeyed every traffic law then I would be more stressed out. I can’t help if I am running late sometimes because I have an unpredictable 3 year old. Sometimes she’s ready to run out of the house in the morning, and other times she’s like dragging a golem through the process of leaving for school.

I fear our world is going to be and more thrust into the public spotlight, and, of course, there are things that I do willingly to thrust myself there, but I still enjoy certain liberties that are slowly being stripped away.

The love story of Ralph and Edna…

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.  Ralph and Edna were both patients in a mental hospital.  One day while they were walking past the hospital swimming pool. Ralph suddenly jumped into the deep end.

He sank to the bottom of the pool and stayed there.

Edna promptly jumped in to save him.  She swam to the bottom and pulled him out.  When the Head Nurse Director became aware of Edna's heroic act she immediately ordered her to be discharged from the hospital, as she now considered her to be mentally stable.

When she went to tell Edna the news she said, 'Edna, I have good news and bad news.  The good news is you're being discharged, since you were able to rationally respond to a crisis by jumping in and saving the life of the person you love.  I have concluded that your act displays sound mindedness.

The bad news is, Ralph hung himself in the bathroom with his bathrobe belt right after you saved him.  I am so sorry, but he's dead.'

Edna replied, 'He didn't hang himself, I put him there to dry.  How soon can I go home?'

SUBJECT:
DEQ File No.97-59-0023; T11N; R10W, Sec. 20; Lycoming County

Dear Mr. DeVries:

It has come to the attention of the Department of Environmental Quality that
there has been recent unauthorized activity on the above referenced parcel of
property.  You have been certified as the legal landowner and/or
contractor who did the following unauthorized activity:    

Construction and maintenance of two wood debris dams across the outlet stream
of Spring Pond.

A permit must be issued prior to the start of this type of activity. A review
of the Department’s files shows that no permits have been issued.
Therefore, the Department has determined that this activity is in
violation of Part 301, Lakes and Streams, of the
Natural Resource and Environmental Pr otection Act, Act 451 of the Public Acts
of 1994, being sections 324.30101 to 324.30113 of the Pennsylvania Compiled
Laws, annotated.

The Department has been informed that one or both of the dams partially failed
during a recent rain event, causing debris and flooding at downstream
locations.  We find that dams of this nature are inherently hazardous and
cannot be permitted. The Department therefore orders you to cease and desist
all activities at this location, and to restore the stream to a free-flow
condition by removing all wood and brush forming the dams from the stream
channel.  All restoration work shall be completed no later than January
31, 2009.  

Please notify this office when the restoration has been completed so that a
follow-up site inspection may be scheduled by our staff.  Failure to
comply with this request or any further unauthorized activity on the site may
result in this case being referred for elevated enforcement action.  We
anticipate and would appreciate your full cooperation in this matter.
Please feel free to contact me at this office if you have any questions.
 

Sincerely,
David L. Price
District Representative and Water Management Division.

2088 Dagget LanePennsylvaniaRe: DEQ File No.
97-59-0023; T11N; R10W, Sec. 20; Lycoming County   
Dear Mr. Price,
Your certified letter dated 12/17/07 has been handed to me to respond to.
I am the legal landowner but not the Contractor at Trout Run, Pennsylvania.   

A couple of beavers are in the (State unauthorized) process of constructing and maintaining two wood
‘debris’ dams across the outlet stream of my Spring Pond.  While I did not
pay for, authorize, nor supervise their dam project, I think they would be
highly offended that you call their skil lful use of natures building materials
‘debris.’   

I would like to challenge your department to attempt to emulate their dam
project any time and/or any place you choose. I believe I can safely state
there is no way you could ever match their dam skills, thei r dam
resourcefulness, their dam ingenuity, their dam persistence, their dam
determination and/or their dam work ethic.      

These
are the beavers/contractors you are seeking. As to your request, I do not think
the beavers are aware that they must first fill out a dam permit prior to the start of this type
of da m activity.

My first dam question to you is:
(1) Are you trying to discriminate against my Spring Pond Beavers, or
(2) do you require all beavers throughout this State to conform to said dam
request?    

If you are not discriminating against these particular beavers, through the
Freedom of Information Act, I request completed copies of all those other
applicable beaver dam permits that have been issued.   

(Perhaps we will see if there really is a dam violation of Part 301, Inland
Lakes and Streams, of the Natural Resource and Environmental Protection Act,
Act 451 of the Public Acts of 1994, being sections 324.30101 to 324.30113 of
the Pennsylvania Compiled Laws, annotated.)

I have several concerns.  My first concern is, aren’t the beavers entitled
to legal representation?  The Spring Pond Beavers are financially d
estitute and are unable to pay for said representation — so the State wi ll
have to provide them with a dam lawyer.  The Department’s dam concern that
either one or both of the dams failed during a recent rain event, causing
flooding, is proof that this is a natural occurrence, which the Department is
required to protect.   In other words, we should leave the Spring Pond
Beavers alone rather than harassing them and calling them dam names. 
 

If you want the stream ‘restored’ to a dam free-flow condition please contact
the beavers — but if you are going to arrest them, they obviously did not pay
any attention to your dam letter, they being unable to read English.   

In my humble opinion, the Spring Pond Beavers have a right to build their
unauthorized dams as long as the sky is blue, the grass is green and water
flows downstream.  They have more dam rights than I do to live and enjoy
Spring Pond.  If the Department of Natural Resources and Environmental
Protection lives up to its name, it should protect the natural resources
(Beavers) and the environment (Beavers’ Dams).   

So, as far as the beavers and I are concerned, this dam case can be referred
for more elevated enforcement action right now. Why wait until 1/31/2009? The
Spring Pond Beavers may be under the dam ice then and there will be no way for
you or your dam staff to contact/harass them.

In conclusion, I would like to bring to your attention to a real environmental
quality, health, problem in the area.  It is the bears! Bears are actually
defecating in our woods.  I definitely believe you should be persecuting
the defecating bears and leave the beavers alone. If you are going to investigate
the beaver dam, watch your step! The bears are not careful where they dump!
 

Being
unable to comply with your dam request, and being unable to contact you on your
dam answering machine, I am sending this response to your dam office.

THANK YOU,   

RYAN DEVRIES
& THE DAM BEAVERS

This is wild. Talk about things coming around. I’m not going to run out to buy concert tickets, but there was a time in my life when my parents were building our grape arbor. I’d skate all night long with friends and my cousin, I had my first ear piercing, and New Kids on the Block were HOT! I loved listening, and, in secret, I still do. I love tossing on "Right Stuff" or singing in my fake high voice to "Didn’t I Blow Your Mind?". Now it’s been 15 years. YES, FIFTEEN YEARS. Yes, I am getting older, and they are back. I remember when Meatloaf returned. And now I am going to remember when NKOTB (as they were later called to look cooler) returned.  So here’s the video. Enjoy.

Do not turn clippers wrong way while cutting hair so guard slips off, fall to floor and breaks.
Do not continue to cut hair.
Do not be surprised when wife laughs her butt off because you’re bald again.
Do not laugh when she takes pictures of giant chunk of missing hair down to your skull.
Do not wiggle while she fixes your mistake in bathroom.
Do not forget to lotion your bald head.