The Curse of Sikes & Kohns Country Mall

Here's a few little stories to share...

HAVE A SIX FLAGS DAY
I recently purchased a Six Flags season pass.  I haven't been to Six Flags in many years, since Goliath was brand spanking new, and I remember two things about that middle school trip I went on... first, Goliath was awesome.  Second, the park was just dirty.  I mean, really dirty.

In addition to the trash that lined the curbs, the "I don't give a rip" attitudes of many of the workers there, and the scenery and ride queues that seemed worn, faded and old, I always recall the gum spots on the Batman wall, and on the floor of the Superman ride as you are coming back to the station.  As you are harnessed in, facing down, many people will spit gum out of their mouth onto the platform... and its gross.

I called up my buddy Shawn and told him I had my season pass and a free ticket that came with it, and as long as he could cover his own lunch, I'd take him.  He was in full agreement, and we met up the next day around 9 and took off.  A few hours later, we are pulling up into the Daffy Duck Row 7 line in the parking lot, and walking in.  We immediately go on the Georgia Scorcher, waiting about 20 minutes to get on.  I figure this is good, because 20 minutes is a decent, short wait for a ride, and if we can wait this long for all of them, then we'll be in the good shape.

I was wrong.  We walked onto the Georgia Cyclone, Thunder River (he got soaked, I got my feet wet), the Ninja, The Great American Scream Machine and The Dahlonega Mine Train, and the only reason it took 15 minutes to get on Superman, Batman and Goliath is because we waited for the front of the line.  After Batman, Shawn needed a coaster break, so I took on The Mind Bender alone... front car, no wait.  I even closed my eyes during the ride, which I love doing on roller coasters.

The Ninja sucks.  Always has.  Its jerky, its rough and its not entertaining.  And I'm not alone in this assessment, as its Wiki page says, "it is the least popular U.S. major roller coaster as voted by people on ThemeParkInsider, ThemeParkCritic, and other review sites."  But, I ride it anyway.

I know much of the park was flooded last year, so I'm sure that helped spur along renovations and improvements, but I was impressed by everything.  The workers (team members?  associates?  Six Flaggers?) all wear bright green shirts so they can easily be spotted, and most that I encountered had smiles and friendly attitudes, and cheered you on with "Have a Six Flags day!". 

Some of the rides now have sponsors... Axe Body Spray is logo'd over The Ninja, which strikes me as kinda funny.  The Mind Bender sports the green color again on the tracks, and the new cars (a little too sleek--I kinda miss the boxy cars) have question mark decorations down the side.  No, not for the Riddler, like it was fifteen years ago, but because Stride sponsors this ride now.  The Scorcher has brand new cars, with the flames on it now blue--Georgia Gas is the sponsor. 

Over the six hours we were there, we rode everything we wanted, with minimal lines.  They have deals for drinks now, like a bottle of water is $3, but you can get 2 for $5 (which is what we did), and the ice cream sandwich I had was pretty good too.  Monster Plantation, which was in such dire need of an overhaul, got one.  The music is crisp and loud, the boats are comfy enough and remodeled, and the animatronics, silly as they are, are full of fur and worked perfectly.  The song is annoying as ever, but at least its understandable.

Overall, I was pleased with the day.  The temperature wasn't too bad, the lines were short, and I was hanging with a good friend, which is the best way to enjoy a good roller coaster.  While we were in the front row of Goliath, as it was cresting the first big hill (by the way, that coaster is terrifying, which is awesome) I could see the parking lot that was only a third full. 

We ended the day by stopping at Texas Roadhouse, where I dined on a delmonica steak and cheese fries.  Good times, good times indeed. 

THE CURSE OF SIKES & KOHN'S
If you travel down Highway 231, either from Montgomery headed to Troy, or headed to Monkeytown from Troy, you'll travel through, or at least near, a tiny little town called Pine Level.  I know very little about Pine Level, except that there is a South Alabama icon there.

The place is called Sikes and Kohn's Country Mall, or Sikes and Kohn's (pronounced "kahn's") for short.  And I hate this place.

Even before you get anywhere close to Sikes and Kohns, you'll see the billboards... oh, will you see the billboards.  Large, painted signs telling you that you'll find shoes like Allen Edmunds, Cole Haan and Saucony, jeans like Levi's, Lee and Wranglers, clothes from Lauren, Tommy and Jordache all at Sikes and Kohns Country Mall.

Oh, I have nothing against Mr/Mrs Sikes or Mr/Mrs Kohn's, nor do I take any offense at the nature of the store.  Its a bit overpriced for my tastes, but there are a few good deals to be had in there, if you look hard enough.  They sell everything from camo to cowboy hats, boots to bolo ties, and there is an entire wall devoted to men's and women's belts.

No, the reason I dislike this place is because everytime I go there, my car breaks down.  The first time I went, while in college, I stopped for some unknown reason--I'm sure it wasn't to shop.  This was when I had my green Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme.  I went inside, and when I came back out, nothing.  No turnover, no sound, nothing.  Had to call a tow truck, and it was terribly overpriced.

Another time, I had driven down to visit Allysong and Shelby and Jenn Mullterp and Rad a Tad, and was on my way back when I had to stop and use the facilities.  So, without thinking about it, I pulled into Sikes & Kohns Country Mall.  Parked on the gravel lot, ran inside, use the powder room, came back out, started up, and was pulling out of the lot when my car started making a really, really funny noise. 

Instead of going left, I went right, back down 231 to a small gas station/repair shop that I had passed.  They spent about three hours fixing it.  And as I crossed the median on 231 to take that left to head back to Birmingham, the car started... jumping.  And surging.  And stalling.   So, back to the gas station.  Then, it was towed to Troy.  Allysong drove out and picked me up.  Tow trucks on Sunday?  Expensive.

So, skip ahead like, 12 years or something, to this past April.  With a four day break between the ending of The Happiest Place in the Mall and the beginning of Starbucks full time, I decided I would take a few days to visit Mom in Samson.  And on the way down, I started seeing the signs for Sikes and Kohns.  I tensed.

It was time.  It had been too long.  The curse had warded over me for over a decade, so much so that I drove past it, never wanting to stop.  But not this day.  Not this time.  If I was ever going to beat Sikes and Kohns, it was time to do so.  With Toni Rocki Honda, no less, a 15 year old car that, if any car was going to break down, would be it. 

Finally, I saw the big arrow sign, and Sikes and Kohns was here.  I slowed down, pulled into the turning lane, and turned into the lot.  I found a spot close to the front--it was a Tuesday late morning, so it wasn't crowded--parked and turn Toni Rocki Honda off.  I got out, and went inside the building.  I figured any stay had to be at least five minutes, otherwise it wouldn't count... I wanted this Curse of Sikes and Kohns dispelled once and for all. 

I walked around inside, browsing the shirts and jeans, and observed the Wall O'Belts near the front.  Nodded that "hi, how ya doing, no I don't need help, but I want to acknowledge your standing there" head nod to the cashier, and finally, went outside.  Keys in hand, I unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel.  Took a deep breath, turned they key...

...Toni Rocki Honda started to life.  I exhaled.  Put 'er in D, drove down the driveway and out onto 231... and drove away . The curse was done.  It was over.  I would now no longer be afraid to stop at Sikes and Kohns Country Mall.  I don't know that I'll have any reason to stop there anyway, but now it won't be a purposeful not-stopping-there.

And just to add some drizzle to the cake, the gas station that I had my car serviced, and further broken, at is now just an abandoned building. 

I win.

MORNING TIME
While I'm at Starbucks now, working, I'll wear a drive thru headset... even if I'm not on the window, I'll have it on to assist those who are in the window by getting sandwiches, or pastries, or restocking cups or whatever.  In the morning, its usually pretty busy, so I hear one beep after another, as one car after another comes to the speaker to order, but every now and again, there's a break.  And in that break, I can hear... well, I can hear birds.  Birds chirping.  And singing.  And as I listen to those birds chirping, even for a brief few seconds, it makes me think I'm 8 years old again.

When I was a kid, my mom and I would take a trip down to Florida for part of the summer.  My aunt-then, sister-now (there's a story there, I promise, but for later), lived in Winter Garden, and I'd get to hang out with my cousin April, and it was awesome.   We were young enough to sleep in the same room, as boys and girls do at that age, and I remember waking up early in the morning to those birds.

There would be a box fan in the window, and the peaceful hum of that fan would keep me drifting in and out of consciousness for most of the morning.  I would open my eyes just enough to see that it was early, the light in the room dim, I could barely make out the features in the room.  Sometimes, even with the box fan in the window, we'd still leave the window open and the morning's cool air would be in the room.  It was Florida, mind you, and it would get hot... but not yet.

And, the cool outside air circulating with the box fan's air, the dim light in the room getting a little bit brighter every few minutes, me on my little bed with the blanket pulled up to my neck, April the next bed over... and I hear the birds sing.

Just like at Starbucks this morning.

Speaking of fans...

A FAN OF THE FAN
There is very little better than a good fan.  The Lovely Steph Leann has always had issues allergies and sinuses, so a ceiling fan whirring all night long might keep her cool at night, but there is a wheezy, stuffy price to pay in the morning.

During the summer, we try to be conscience of the thermostat, because we'd rather spend money at Disney World than pay a $250 power bill every month... so it can get a little toasty in our room.  But on those days when she is gone, when I sleep alone, I turn that fan on high.  I crawl into bed, and pull up my favorite mom-handsewn butterfly quilt and let the cool breeze rush around me.

But my favorite?  When I was a kid at home, my parents let me used a small, oscillating fan (there is never use of the word "oscillating" unless the word "fan" is after it) that I would set on a metal folding chair.  I'd use books to set it on to get just the right height, then hit that button in the back to make it turn.

That breeze from the fan going back and forth over the length of your body is awesome.  You feel it on your face for about two seconds, then its gone, as the air moves down your body laying there under the sheet.  Then, if you set it up just right, it would hit your feet for about two seconds, then head back towards your head again.  That was a glorious feeling. 

Movie reviews for about a dozen movies coming this weekend

Those Pesky Jennifer Knapp Rumors Are True

I believe this to be true.  Marriage is between a man and a woman.  I also believe that homosexuality is wrong.  I believe it is a sin, and in God's eyes, not any more or any less of a sin than, say, stealing a magazine from a bookshop or assaulting someone.  Its wrong.  I believe this not from my own convictions, but because I believe what the Bible says is true to be true, to be fact.  Does this mean I don't like gay people?  Not at all.  I know people who are gay who are jerks.  I know people who are gay who are awesome.  On that same token, I know straight jerks and I know straight awesome people.  The person has less to do with it than does the lifestyle led. 

Anyone who just read the above statement and thinks I am a narrowminded, homophobic conservative that is ignorant for not wanting two people to love each other, that's fine.  But you won't want to read the next thing I have to say.  In fact, just go to another website.  Come back later, when I've got Idol coverage.

I had heard rumors that Jennifer Knapp was gay.  And in an interview, she confirms what I already believed to be true.  And it saddens me to no end, it just about breaks my heart. 

There are just a handful of CDs that define my spiritual walk... those include "Jesus Freak" by dcTalk, "Jars of Clay" by Jars of Clay, "All Things New" by Watermark, "This Mystery" by Nichole Nordeman, "The Road to One Day" by Passion... and "Kansas" by Jennifer Knapp.  These CDs, and the songs that make them up, are an intrigal part of who I am in Christ, just as much as people like Shelby, Jenn Mullturp, Troy Mac, Allysong, Chrissy B, The Hall, Rev'rn Ty Coffey... the songs on those CDs tell you where I've been, where I am and where I'm going. 

The line "...there are ghosts from my past who own more of my soul than I thought I had given away, they linger in closets and under my bed and in pictures less proudly displayed..." from "Martyrs and Theives" is one of the most piercing, cutting, soul-baring lines of any song ever to me.  It just cuts right to the marrow of who d$ is in Christ. 

And... my beloved, loved Jennifer Knapp... is a lesbian.  Does this mean I respect her any less?  Certainly not.  I have great respect for who she is, and what she's done.  Does this mean I love her any less?  No.  I still consider her a sister in Christ, and though I've only met her once--and believe me, she wouldn't be able to pick me out of a lineup on Lorna Road (though I'm the only one with no landscaping dust on my flannel shirt)--I still fully expect to see her when we go Home.  Do I like her music any less?  That... that is the question, isn't it? 

I mean, who am I to even try to judge Knapp for the lifestyle she's chosen? Amy Adams, whom I'm in love with, is knocked up without a husband, or Fergie or OutKast, two artists I'm a fan of, live the lifestyles they live... of course, Amy Adams, whom I'm in love with, doesn't profess the name of Christ, and neither Fergie nor Andre 3000 or The Love Below sing songs that will be on the next Passion One Day album either. 

But... I know a ton of people who love Katy Perry... who used to be Katy Hudson, Christian rocker.  No kidding, I've got her CD. 

Justin Timberlake and Jessica Simpson both either dabbled in Christian music, or professed the name of Christ in no less than their liner notes on early albums--and the lifestyles that they both live now don't seemingly fit well with the verses they put forth then.  But I can dig JT, and Jessica... well, ask John Mayer how she's doing. 

So, what do I do with someone I really like, someone who has meant so much to me, someone who I have looked forward to hearing from again returns... only she returns with a decision made in her life that goes against what I know to be true with the God I believe in?

Well, in Knapp's defense, she doesn't try to decide that.  Her new CD, "Letting Go", isn't being marketed to Christian radio stations and bookstores, and wasn't really written for the Christian audience.

Anyway, I'm not here to judge Knapp, I'm not here to criticize her, and I still consider myself a fan, at the least a fan of "His Grace is Sufficient", "Romans", "Martyrs and Theives" and "Trinity".

She comes clean below... its an article I stole posted from Christianity Today's website, and interview with Mark Moring called "Jennifer Knapp Comes Out".  I really respect Knapp for being restrainted enough to admit that, when it comes to what the Bible says about homosexuality, she doesn't want to discuss the theology, partly because she doesn't know, and partly because she knows there is alot of judgement coming from people staring at her through the wooden plank they've got lodged.  I almost get the sense that she's saying, "Okay, I'm gay, now let's move on because I want to play my guitar..."

You can read the article for yourself on their page, or you can just read it here, placed for your convenience (and to keep you on my site, of course).  Thanks to Tyler the bro-in-law for sending this to me....

You announced your "hiatus" in 2003. Was that a sudden decision, or was it boiling for a while?


Jennifer Knapp: It was boiling for me. I think people thought I just fell into a hole and disappeared, but I had been trying to get out of being on the road 250 days a year. Lay It Down was a 2000 release, and The Way I Am was 2001; those records were literally back to back, and I was touring while recording The Way I Am. I was telling people "Man, I can't keep up the schedule. This is just a little bit crazy." I didn't have any space to just be a normal human being. I finally realized nobody was going to make that decision for me, so I just said, "I'm not kidding. I need a break, and it starts now."

That decision came mid-2001, but my schedule didn't allow me to stop until September 2002, when I did my last show; I basically still had about a year and a half worth of contracted concerts and other things before I could stop.

A lot of people hit burnout, but I don't think many think, I'm going to take seven years off. What were you thinking?

Knapp: At the time, I literally thought I was quitting. I needed such a break, and I needed the silence to be deafening. But in the back of my mind I thought, Maybe in a couple of years I'll come back and give this another go. It was a huge risk to say I may never do this again. It was a real heart wrenching decision.

Once you fulfilled your last obligation, was there a big sigh of relief? Or what?

Knapp: I was scared to death. You just don't leave something that everyone else says is extremely successful. Some people close to me said I was doing something wrong—that [quitting] was a denial of the gifts I had. I was like, Whoa, hold on a second. I'm just asking for a little bit of time. That was a lot to deal with. It took two or three years to get over the rollercoaster ride of emotions. One day I'd be completely angry; the next day completely heartbroken and devastated; the next raging jealous because somebody's out there doing something that I love doing and I can't do it. And some days I was in complete denial. It was almost like a psychological profile of grief. [It took a while] to let the dust settle and figure out what kind of human being was left.

There were rumors that you left music because you were gay.

Knapp: That was a straw [in my decision], but there were many straws on the camel's back at the time. I'm certainly in a same-sex relationship now, but when I suspended my work, that wasn't even really a factor. I had some difficult decisions to make and what that meant for my life and deciding to invest in a same-sex relationship, but it would be completely unfair to say that's why I left music.

Were you involved in a relationship at that time you left?

Knapp: Around 2002, I was starting to contend with this new-found "issue" in my life. But I'd already decided to leave music before I knew I was going to contend with that. I don't want anyone to think that I ran out of town with my tail between my legs because I had something to hide.

Or that you were run out of town.

Knapp: Or that I was run out of town. Neither is true.

When you wrote The Way I Am, was that a veiled statement about being gay?

Knapp: That record means a lot more to me now than it did at the time. That whole record for me was an exercise in the carnal body of Christ manifested. One of the biggest decisions I was wrestling with then was, If I don't do Christian music, am I not a believer anymore?

Why come back now? What has changed?

Knapp: At some point [last year] when I started to write again, I realized that the process was rather organic. I started playing at home, and my friends are going, "Oh wow, that's pretty good. What are you going to do with that?" I said, "What do you mean, what am I going to do with it? Nothing!" The return has been a lot like the way I started music in the first place. We're doing a four-day run of concerts right now, I'm in a van, I just spent half my afternoon driving, and if I'm lucky I get dinner before I play tonight. There's something about that process you've got to love. I just think it took me a lot longer to figure out if that passion was a safe one for me.

You spent about five of the last seven years in Australia, right?

Knapp: Yes. But I've been back in the States since September. During those seven years, I entertained myself for quite some time by traveling. I traveled all through Europe. I traveled through the U.S. for about a year. I was basically a transient for about four years.

Traveling alone or with your partner?

Knapp: With my partner.

Have you been with the same partner for a long time?

Knapp: About eight years, but I don't want to get into that. For whatever reason the rumor mill [about me being gay] has persisted for so long, I wanted to acknowledge; I don't want to come off as somebody who's shirking the truth in my life. At the same time, I'm intensely private. Even if I were married to a man and had six children, it would be my personal choice to not get that kind of conversation rolling.

I understand. But I'm curious: Were you struggling with same-sex attraction when writing your first three albums? Those songs are so confessional, clearly coming from a place of a person who knows her need for grace and mercy.

Knapp: To be honest, it never occurred to me while writing those songs. I wasn't seeking out a same-sex relationship during that time.

During my college years, I received some admonishment about some relationships I'd had with women. Some people said, "You might want to renegotiate that," even though those relationships weren't sexual. Hindsight being 20/20, I guess it makes sense. But if you remove the social problem that homosexuality brings to the church—and the debate as to whether or not it should be called a "struggle," because there are proponents on both sides—you remove the notion that I am living my life with a great deal of joy. It never occurred to me that I was in something that should be labeled as a "struggle." The struggle I've had has been with the church, acknowledging me as a human being, trying to live the spiritual life that I've been called to, in whatever ramshackled, broken, frustrated way that I've always approached my faith. I still consider my hope to be a whole human being, to be a person of love and grace. So it's difficult for me to say that I've struggled within myself, because I haven't. I've struggled with other people. I've struggled with what that means in my own faith. I have struggled with how that perception of me will affect the way I feel about myself.

Are you beyond those struggles?


Knapp: I don't know. I'm the happiest I've ever been. But now that I'm back in the U.S., I'm contending with the culture shock of moving back here. There's some extremely volatile language and debate—on all sides—that just breaks my heart. Frankly, if it were up to me, I wouldn't be making any kind of public statement at all. But there are people I care about within the church community who would seek to throw me out simply because of who I've chosen to spend my life with.

So why come out of the closet, so to speak?

Knapp: I'm in no way capable of leading a charge for some kind of activist movement. I'm just a normal human being who's dealing with normal everyday life scenarios. As a Christian, I'm doing that as best as I can. The heartbreaking thing to me is that we're all hopelessly deceived if we don't think that there are people within our churches, within our communities, who want to hold on to the person they love, whatever sex that may be, and hold on to their faith. It's a hard notion. It will be a struggle for those who are in a spot that they have to choose between one or the other. The struggle I've been through—and I don't know if I will ever be fully out of it—is feeling like I have to justify my faith or the decisions that I've made to choose to love who I choose to love.

Have you ever felt like you had to choose between your faith or your gay feelings?

Knapp: Yes. Absolutely.

Because you felt they were incompatible?
Knapp: Well, everyone around me made it absolutely clear that this is not an option for me, to invest in this other person—and for me to choose to do so would be a denial of my faith.

What about what Scripture says on the topic?

Knapp: The Bible has literally saved my life. I find myself between a rock and a hard place—between the conservative evangelical who uses what most people refer to as the "clobber verses" to refer to this loving relationship as an abomination, while they're eating shellfish and wearing clothes of five different fabrics, and various other Scriptures we could argue about. I'm not capable of getting into the theological argument as to whether or not we should or shouldn't allow homosexuals within our church. There's a spirit that overrides that for me, and what I've been gravitating to in Christ and why I became a Christian in the first place.

Some argue that the feelings of homosexuality are not sinful, but only the act. What would you say?

Knapp: I'm not capable of fully debating that well. But I've always struggled as a Christian with various forms of external evidence that we are obligated to show that we are Christians. I've found no law that commands me in any way other than to love my neighbor as myself, and that love is the greatest commandment. At a certain point I find myself so handcuffed in my own faith by trying to get it right—to try and look like a Christian, to try to do the things that Christians should do, to be all of these things externally—to fake it until I get myself all handcuffed and tied up in knots as to what I was supposed to be doing there in the first place.

If God expects me, in order to be a Christian, to be able to theologically justify every move that I make, I'm sorry. I'm going to be a miserable failure.


You're living in Nashville. Are you in a church these days?

Knapp: No.

The Christian music industry can be fickle. Fans, radio, and retail were angry at Amy Grant for her divorce, at Michael English and Sandi Patty for adultery. But eventually, they were "welcomed" back. How do you think your fans and radio and Christian stores will react to the news that you're gay? Or do you care?

Knapp: I do have a soul! (laughs) I care deeply. It's a very heart-wrenching decision to come into a room knowing that there are many people who just won't come with me. The Christian bookstore thing is probably not going to happen; this isn't a Christian record, and it's not going to be marketed to Christian radio.

K-LOVE won't pick this one up?

Knapp: I doubt it, but there's no reason they can't play it. To me, my faith is fairly evident in what I'm writing, but it's not a record for the sanctuary. That in itself is a huge risk for me—to be able to write without feeling like I've got to manufacture something that's not entirely genuine, to take a song and feel like I have to make an obvious biblical reference. That's not there anymore. I've actually buried it; for me, it's an exercise in liberty. In a spiritual context, will God still be evident in me when I write songs? I sort of nervously wring my hands together and go, Please don't leave me.

You're saying Please don't leave me to God, or fans, or whom?

Knapp: To me, and the divine experience of being a musician—that private world of where I integrate that into my life and where it comes out on a public level, as a song. I have a lot of fans who live in real-life scenarios, not just live within the walls of their church. They aren't surrounded by Christians all day long; they don't just listen to Christian music. I have a lot of critically thinking fans who are trying to sort out their lives as Christians as best they know how. I think as a result of that, a lot of them have been marginalized; they're still seeking to be Christians but not always measuring up to the marketed idea of who they should be.

You're playing live shows again …

Knapp: Yes. My concerts right now include the ultra-conservative hand raisers that are going to make this bar their worship zone. And there's a guy over on the left having one too many, and there's a gay couple over on the right. That's my dream scenario. I love each and every one of them. At the end of the day, it's music.

Are you still playing your old songs in concert?

Knapp: A bit, yeah.

Which ones?

Knapp: "Martyrs and Thieves" I'll probably always play off of Kansas. "Fall Down" off of The Way I Am. The songs still have to speak to me. I had to go back and learn my old songs, but that's been part of my process too—feeling like because I was gay that I couldn't sing those songs anymore. I even said, "Don't give me a [live] set longer than what I can play with this new music, because I just can't play the old music." I just flat out said I wouldn't do it.

But you're already rethinking that?


Knapp: I'm enjoying what I'm playing now. It's been organic. Amy Courts, a gal who's joined me on this tour, said she wanted to sing some of the old songs with me. I was like, Man, I don't know. I swore I'd never play that song again. But we start playing it, and it just hits me right in my heart. It's like somebody else wrote it. I realized that it comes from a very honest, genuine place. I've started to make those connections between the old songs and what I'm doing now. It was an extraordinarily helpful connect, because for a long time I thought it was old life vs. new life. But it's not. It was a real comfort to me to realize I'm still the same person, that the baggage or new scenarios we pick up along the way are part of the long-term story.

The new record is called Letting Go. Is that a statement?

Knapp: Oh, I love record titles! (laughs) I suppose. There's a song called "Letting Go," and it's basically just a struggle to hold onto the things that have been valuable to me. That was one of the last song I wrote going into this, when I started to have a panic attack going I can't do this. People are going to chew me up and spit me out and tell me that I'm worthless. I think the process of writing that song was really helpful to realize that I really enjoy what I'm doing, and I'm not going to let go of my faith and I'm not going to let go of the passion to do music the way I want, in case there are other people telling me I can do neither because of personal decisions I've made.

In the lyrics to that song, who is the you when you sing, "Holding onto you is a menace to my soul"?

Knapp: It changes nightly. It seriously does. And it can change three or four times while I'm singing it. Some days it's my faith. Some days I'm singing to God, like You're a menace, man. It's hard to keep my faith. Sometimes it's music, and sometimes it's being on the road. It's a lot of those scenarios. That song is a bit of a chameleon, because it's all of those fearful moments that want to handicap me from not moving forward, when I'd rather move forward with grace and as much kindness as I can—and make my mistakes and hope that grace will follow me.

So it turns out to be the title of the record. I think a lot of folks around this process have been excited about what it's taken for me to get to this point—to be able to pull a trigger, to be able to go, Okay, really I want to play. A few years back, people were offering me five and six figures to come out and just do one show. I'm like, No, you cannot pay me enough. So that idea of letting go, and just the celebration that this record has felt like—finding music again, finding the passion to face up to a really challenging career but one that's extraordinarily rewarding, that when you lay your head on the pillow at the end of the night you go, Man, I'm bone tired, but that was good. For me, that's what it means.

I'm tired of spending hours and hours thinking about what if scenarios—what if nobody wants it, what if everybody is mad, what if I'm a complete disappointment. Now it's, Here it is. I've got to let it go. That's one of the frustrating parts of my Christian walk, the scenario that if I don't get it right, that I've somehow failed God and failed my faith

There are a few songs here that I would call angry songs. Is that fair?


Knapp: Which ones do you call angry songs?

Well, there's "If It Made a Difference," where you sing, "Sorry I ever gave a damn / Sorry I even tried to waste all the better parts of me / On not just anyone who came to mind." And "Inside," where you sing, "I know they'll bury me before they hear the whole story … / Who the hell do you think you are?" Sounds angry to me!

Knapp: Okay. I'm okay if you call them angry. I prefer to think of them as, well …

Honest?

Knapp: I'm just really enjoying the opportunity as a writer to be able to put a kinetic energy into what's been welling up inside of me. It's great to be able to not feel like I've got to turn that frustration into a happy, cheery …

But you've never been like that, Jennifer. I don't listen to your old albums and think Oh, this is all happy, shiny music. I hate happy, shiny music!

Knapp: I think "angry" is probably … I'm not really an angry person. I'm passionate, and I've certainly been known to raise my voice and pound my fists, but in the heart of me it's not a destructive thing. It's more the type of energy of what it takes when a person's being thwarted. I wrote "Inside" in complete and utter fear to voices in my head that told me that I couldn't be a person of faith.

In the song's third line, you sing, "God forbid they give me grace." Do you really believe that no believers will show you grace?

Knapp: It's a much larger picture than that. I don't want anyone to think the song is targeted at the church, or at the ways we find judgment cast upon us. It's a challenge to break free of that and to own who you really are. That's my heart's cry for anyone I've ever met. It's not on my agenda to convert the world to a religion, but to convert the world to compassion and grace. I've experienced that in my life through Christianity.

"Inside" isn't about the church. It's about me, and how I struggle to be myself daily—honest and truthful to who I really am. It would break my heart if people got through this [album], especially the Christian audience, and found themselves with another artist that was just angry at the church. That's not where I'm at. If there's any anger or frustration on this record, it's the desperation to hold onto what is honest and true, and let the rest of it just burn.

I would be really sad if people thought this was a sword trying to cut up something I've been deeply moved by. Christian music has been a great surprise for me, but I didn't aspire to be a Christian music artist. I aspired to be a Christian in my private life, and I think it's a wonderful side effect that can happen with music—that you can get a lot of people to share in that specific experience. So it would be a tragedy if people couldn't see the forest for the trees, to see the connectivity between Kansas and Letting Go. It's there for me, gratefully, with a big, huge, massive sigh of relief. It's not like I left Christian music because Christian music was bad, or that I'm not participating in church because the church is evil. It's none of those things. For me, it's the journey that I'm on, trying to figure things about as best I can.

You can order "Kansas" here... or pre-order her new one, "Letting Go" here.

Kicks Just Keep Getting Harder to Find

"And your kicks just keep gettin' harder to find, and all your kicks ain't bringing you peace of mind..." Paul Revere & the Raiders

"Give me two pair, cause I need two pair, so I can get to stomping in my air force ones..." Nelly

There's nothing... I mean nothing... like a good pair of shoes.  Even with The Lovely Steph Leann, who spends much of her working day sitting at a desk (she does much more than that, but she does spend time at a desk...) shoes are essential, as she deals with plantar fasciitis.  I, who not only spends at least 8 hours a day on my feet at The Happiest Place in the Mall, then at least 10 hours a week standing in front of an espresso bar at The Most Caffienated Place in Greystone, have to have good shoes.  A must.

My problem with shoes is two-fold... first, my feet are very wide.  Like, short and stubby, but wide.  I only wear a 9.5, sometimes I can wear a 9, every now and again a 10.  Secondly, I never grew up with a whole lot of money to buy the right kind of shoes... so after a decade of wearing & tolerating ill-fitting shoes, its only been recently that I would splurge the money to make my feet comfy.

When I was a kid, it was a huge deal to, every September, travel to nearby Geneva with my dad.  We'd go to Moore's Clothing in the little shopping center right past where they build the Wal-Mart (though it wasn't around in those days), and Dad would drop about $70 on a pair or Nikes, or Reeboks, or (one year and one year only) a pair of L.A. Gear shoes.  Paging 1988, come in 1988....

For my family, $70 was a lot of money, as we bought many of my clothes in cheaper establishments... but those shoes were great.  That was my pair for the whole school year.  In September, they'd be gleaming white with a blue stripe down the side, in May they'd be a muddy grey with a blue/black half-stripe barely hanging on.  But, when you went to a place like Moore's, before Dick's Sporting Goods and before Academy Sports & Outdoors (the right stuff the right price... Academy!) and before Target and before outlets and such, you had places like Moore's, places that would not only sell you a pair of shoes, they would sell you the correct pair of shoes. 

You would have an old guy who had that silver, metal foot bracket, and you'd place your sock feet in it, heel back, and the old guy would move the little brackets to barely touching your toes and the side brackets would slightly squeeze your feet.  The old guy would make a few notes based on those miniscule little notches on the foot bracket and come back with a couple of pairs of shoes from the back, a couple of pairs that would fit your feet perfectly.  And they did. 

I was blissfully unaware that my feet were wide.  I was ignorant of the fact that to shoe my feet, it would take some special searching.  And though you have a few younger folk that will flip out that shoe bracket when you go into a shoe store, I think foot sizing is a lost, lost art, the knowledge driven away by the convenience of walking in, trying a few pairs on, figuring out what fits best in the store, hoping it will still feel okay in two weeks and purchasing.  I'd pay a little extra for the old guy with the bracket.  And I finally did.  But I'll get to that.

I've had a few pairs of shoes purchased on how they fit in the store, or shoes that I thought, "Yeah, its a little tight, but they look cool, so I can deal with it..."  I bought a pair of Timberland slip-ons that were on sale for $20, and thats what I thought... but as The Lovely Steph Leann and I drove home from the beach, I decided to wear them, and I remember stopping somewhere and me getting out for a minute.  By the time I got back in the car, I was limping.  The shoes were tight across the top of my foot, left a bruise and I walked a little funny for three days.  Some years later, I sold those shoes to a Mexican guy for $3 at a yard sale that we had with Mikey Nipp.

Skechers are the worst.  I've owned several pairs in my life, and I have two that were decent, only one that was good.  Bought my first pair in college, through a mail order catalog, a pair of white-toed black shoes that I still have.  Usually, when The Lovely Steph Leann & I hit Panama City for Thanksgiving, we spend time at the Silver Sands Outlets in Sandestin, and a few years back, I fell into the, "Buy 2 pair, get 1 Free!" trap, and bought three pairs of shoes I didn't need... a pair of sneakers that were awesome--until they prematurely fell apart--the rubber started tearing lose of the sole within six months... a pair of brown loafers that, within the first few months, had a split in the sole... and a pair of black shoes that buckle in the front and still look great--of course, I only wear them once per month or two.  I've sworn that I'll never buy another pair of Skechers again.

There's a couple of pairs of shoes that I would toss into the d$ Shoe Hall of Fame, including a pair of Timberland sandals that were one size too big and that I wore on every beach trip I'd taken since 1999, a pair that The Lovely Steph Leann finally threw out not too long ago... a pair of American Eagle... well, my friend Allysong called them "clods", but they were like loafers, and are approaching their 12th year in my care and unfortunately are drawing near to the end of their life... and a pair of Lugz shoes I bought at Sears for $12, and have been fantastic tennis shoes.  (I once wore the Lugz shirt, my favorte FUBU shirt and my "W: The President" hat out to dinner, and someone remarked 'that outfit is a contradiction in terms'")

By the way, if you look close, you can see the wear and tear on the inside heel of these  "clods".  Everyone has a pair of shoes that just feels so good, and you want to keep them as long as you possibly can, because "just feels good" shoes are hard to come by.

Almost 7 years at Starbucks has caused me to go through 8 pairs of shoes... I've had tennis shoes, mostly, but I've done the lace-less slip on shoes as well, but they've always been a $20 or less pair that I knew I was going to destroy.  When I took the job at The Happiest Place in the Mall, I was told that part of costume was black shoes, so I had to go out a buy some.  I bought some new brown Starbucks shoes at the same time, and in July 2008, I put my brown GXS flats and my black Reebok runners in motion. 

During our trip to The Most Magical Place on Earth in June, my feet were getting blistered.  The Lovely Steph Leann chalked it up to my Lugz that, while comfortable, were just not made for the walking, standing, running and walking more that we were doing for 14 hours per day, four days in a row--the Skecher tennis shoes weren't doing any better.  After watching her to go New Balance and spend over a $110 on a pair of shoes (which, all these years in marriage later is almost still unfathomable), I decided it was finally time to get myself a good pair of sneakers.  We discussed it, and, still coming to grips about the fact that I might have to spend that much to fit my wide feet into some comfy shoes, I went to a local shop called The Trak Shak. 

The guy there wasn't old... but he knew how to size a foot.  I told him what I was looking for--a pair of tennis shoes that could be used for three things--running, walking and if needed, playing tennis, if I ever decided to get my chunky tail up and do something.  I told him that my problem was my feet were wide, and it was hard to find a good pair of shoes that I liked.  He listened, he asked me to walk around and he told me that he could tell from my walk that I tended to walk inward, probably due to lack of good footwear.  Long story short (too late?) I came out with a pair of Nikes that fit... perfectly.  What size?  9 1/2.  I call them my Trailer Shoes.  Why?  Cause they are "Double wide".

So, a few weeks ago when The Lovely Steph Leann and I were in Pensacola/Destin, we stopped off at the Sandestin Silver Sands outlet, and I went into the Reebok store.  It was time to find a good pair of shoes for The Happiest Place at the Mall.  Reebok and Rockport were side by side, and had a deal... a "Buy 2, Get 1 Free!" deal.  Skechers had got me on this some years back, so I told The Lovely Steph Leann I wouldn't buy 2 pairs just to buy 2 pairs... but I did need some Magic Shoes and I did need some good sandals (remember, as she tossed my Timberlands when I wasn't looking). 

With a little shopping, I managed to find a pair of great Rockport sandals, a great pair of brown loafers (since my "clods" aren't permissable by The Lovely Steph Leann many times, and my Skechers have a gash in them) and finally, a solid pair of Reebok Walk Ultra III DMX, size 2E--that's Double Wide.  Total cost?  $102.  Thought I'd got a deal.

At The Happiest Place in the Mall, I feel like I'm walking on one of those spring shoes, as the shoes feel great.  They feel wonderful.  I've got my Nikes, which feel awesome when I'm lounging, walking or running, and I've got my Black 'boks, which feel awesome when I'm making Magic. 

But...

(There's always a big but...)

Yesterday was a full day for me.  I had to be at The Happiest Place in the Mall all day, then at Starbucks last night.  I usually carry my khaki shorts and my black polo, a pair of white socks and my heavily syruped, heavily grounded Starbucks shoes in my backseat, so when I leave The Magic, I can grab something to eat, then head to The Beans.  Well, I forgot my socks and shoes.  No matter... I've got on black socks, which will make me a look dorky, but the shoes are black, and they are springy, and heck, I need springy at Starbucks.  I'm considering buying a pair of these Walk Ultra III DMX, size 2E, for the coffee shop.

Its raining, quite hard actually, and I run the garbage out.  Toss on my blue hoodie, throw on the hood, roll the garbage can out and to the dumpster.  Come back, take off the blue hoodie, throw it on the rack and go do the dishes.  As I'm standing in front of the sink, rinsing off an empty tray of cranberry bliss bars, I hear a squeaky sound.  Almost like a whistling, almost like that "wheeeeeeee" sound you hear when a firework goes up, right before it explodes.  A whirring, if you will. 

No... it can't be... no, its not... it cannot be... not... its the mat.  Its the mat I'm standing on.  Its the mat, the rubber mat, because there is water under it... there's... no way that...

I walk off the mat, to the front.  As I walk, I can hear it.  Whir whish whish whish whirrrr whish whish.  I stand still, and lean a little, putting a little more weight on my left foot.  The whirring is a little louder.  I do the same on my right.  Whisssshhh. 

Somehow, someway, a slight hole has developed in the sole of my Black Reebok Walk Ultra III DMX, Size 2E, and as I walk, air--moist air--is being pushed out.  As I lift my foot, it re-inflates, and as I put my foot down, it pushed out more air.  This is a problem that cannot be fixed.  This is an issue that cannot be resolved.  When I told The Lovely Steph Leann, she just shrugged and said, "Eh, it'll go away."  I shook my head silently, knowing it never would.  And as I walked onstage at The Happiest Place in the Mall, I heard the slight sound of a whirring whish. 

I think I'm going to write a strongly worded letter. 

Kicks... good kicks... just keep getting harder to find.  Alas.

The Encouragement Beginning

Way back in the day, I used to write stuff called "Dave's Random Emails of Encouragement". From 1999 to 2002, I wrote well over 100 essays, stories and short pieces about... well, things that happened in my life that gave me encouragement, and I wanted to pass those things along to other people. In its heyday, I had 125+ people on my email list, and over the course of those years, I would get tons of responses from people telling me they understood, or they felt the same way, or they needed to hear it, and yes, the occasional "dude... shut up."

I even semi-published... well, not really published, but printed out, gave small intros to each one, and put them in a 3 volume set that I gave copies to to a few people (I think McQ got a set, but beyond that, I have no clue).

Here's what I wrote at the beginning of Volume One:

There was Allyson Guy, Amy Alexander, Amy Valdmanis and Amy Worthy. There was Beth Sentell, Daina Richards, Hillary Kelly and Rebecca Glassco. There was Lara Smith, Mary Ann Crittenden, Misty Estes, Nathan Tutor, Shelby Logan, Stephanie Nipp, Sybil Johnson and Tad Roose. There was Tom Johnson, Ty Coffey, Wendy Brobst, Sharon Dobbins, Julie Haynes, Meredith Brazzell and Melanie Jackson. Kay Nichols. Jeff Herring. Chris Fulaytar. Alyssa Guy. Season Chappell. Amy Wible. They were there in the beginning.

September 1999, I wrote up an email called “Stephen”, because I had heard a guy by the name of EJ Smith speak at this Bible Study I had been attending for about two months at this lady named Sybil Johnson’s house. I thought EJ’s lesson was cool, and I wanted to share it with some of my friends. I got lots of response to it, and a few weeks later, I wrote another essay and mailed it out, adding a few more names to the email list upon request. So, from then, every time I went to a Bible Study, retreat, conference, Church service, or if God just taught me something cool, I began to share it over email. The first several emails were adapted from other essays, I just transferred the message from the original author to you, but as God began to mature me in Him, suddenly I found my own words... well, words inspired from God, not from other authors. I used other works to base my essays on, particularly songs, but I love to do my own personal take on the meaning of those songs.

Where is all this going? Well, I figure if I've got a blogsite, and its my words and writing, what a great way to share--actually, in September of 2005, when I was still unsure of what I was even doing (and sometimes I still don't know... ha!) I posted the first Email of Encouragement I'd ever written, as mentioned above.

Now, after all this time, I think its time to post them again, to let you, the Coffee Drinkers, read them, or re-read them, and maybe get a little encouragement of your own.

Immuno Boy & the Attack of the Silicone Finger

I pride myself for having a pretty rock solid immune system. My friend Allyson in Troy called me "Immuno Boy" for years. Seriously... I very, very seldom get sick. Now, like most people, I do have headaches from time to time, but the times that I'm prevented from at least getting done what I need to get done at an acceptable level are slim to never. I get a headache, I'll work through it, or if I can, I'll just go to bed early. Wake up later, viola! I'm good. Sometimes I will just throw up. Puke my guts out. Then I'm all better. Anyone else have this phenomenon happen to them?

Anyway, the times I'm forced to go to the doctor are seriously few and far between... in 8th grade, I ran too hard into a wall, also known as Daniel Stephenson, when trying to rush the passer in P.E... he stood tall, I bounced and hit the ground hard, broke my right arm (which is kinda good, because it taught me how to write legibly with my left hand, a talent I still possess). He stood me up, told me I was alright, meanwhile I'm crying cause my arm in bent in an unnatural position.

In 1996, I fell asleep and hit the broadside of a telephone pole with my 1990 Buick Century. Then my face hit the broadside of the steering wheel. Take your index finger and place it right in that little soft spot where your upper lip meets the mid nostril dividing section of your nose. That's exactly where I struck the top part of the steering wheel. Later, when I saw the car in the junkyard, I marveled at how cool the blood spatter looked across the windshield. Two stitches in the left nostril--IN, not around--two in the middle and two in the right.

In 2003, I had a terrible cold and a bad sore throat. Worked my day job at the radio station, then went to Starbucks feeling miserable. Finally called in the next day and visited a doc-in-the-box, found out I had strep throat.

In 2005, I had to go to the doctor for a full physical, having not had one in... 17 years? I had to have one when I was 13 to go to Camp Ala-Flo, the Boy Scout camp, but not since. But I was headed to a NYC mission trip, so off to the doctor I went. It was my first ever "drop trou" check up. Let's talk uncomfortable. I know the doctor.

In 2007, my right arm was feeling pretty miserable, stinging pain, hurt to twist it sometimes, so on and so forth. Took a check up, found out it was tendinitis. Had to wear a brace for three weeks, which majorly got in the way when I was pulling shots for lattes, and got pretty sticky when I was pumping syrup. More than once the end of the pump got caught between my brace and my wrist, and I had vanilla syrup pumped down my arm.

That list seems like alot, really... but when you consider in my entire life, that's the only medical maladies I can even recall, I think that's pretty good... especially considering I don't take all the precautions that society tells us we should take..

Or maybe, that's pretty good BECAUSE I don't take all the precautions that society tells us we should take. I, for one, love being barefoot and spent much of my childhood doing so. When I was a kid, I ate dirt. I've eaten a Milkbone dog biscuit. Snot, poop, blood and other fluidy type things don't bother me. I've worked with middle schoolers for almost 10 years, and we can all attest to the hygiene proficiency of your typical 7th grade boy.

Point is, I have a pretty good immune system built up over the years... The Lovely Steph Leann swears up and down that our daughter Lorelei and our son Camp will not go barefoot in our yard, and I'm pretty adamant that they probably will. The Lovely Steph Leann swears up and down that children won't get dirty, play in the mud or the rain or the creek or whatever, and I am pretty adamant that not only will they, I'll probably be there with them. Of course, if Lorelei takes after her mom, she'll be such a princess girly girl that the thought of "outside" might make her run in terror, but this is what builds your immune system. When we were in The Happiest Place on Earth in February, the same stomach virus that took my wife out of commission for 48 hours got me for about, I dunno, 8.

And I do not, let me repeat, DO NOT ever, ever, ever, ever use hand sanitizer unless its a real, real emergency. That gel stuff that dissolves on your hands, like washing your hands, but you know, without water. I think the fact this stuff can be found in every household, every kitchen and every desk of anyone who has a slight fear of a single germ is the reason that Swine Flu Mania has gripped our country. Every one's immune system is shot. Heck, The Lovely Steph Leann is sniffly and wheezy at least three times per year.

Another aside... I've been biting my nails since I was like, five. I tried to fight it, I tried to stop it, I used that fingernail stuff that tastes terrible, but that stopped when--and I vividly remember this--I had a hair in my mouth one day. A random hair in your mouth is maddening, as its so thin and hard to find, but almost impossible to swallow or spit out, so what do you to? You go after it. And I did. After a few minutes of tasting this terrible, awful, disgusting anti-nail biting crap on my fingers, I did away with the hair. And the terrible, awful, disgusting anti-nail biting crap.

Sometimes, I bite my nails too far down. Every now and then, it will pull a little at the edge of my fingertips, and draw a little blood. It happens. I shrug it off, knowing this is what I signed up for when I decided to stop trying to stop biting my fingernails. Even less every now and then, it will come too close to the edge of the fingernail. It will be sore for a day, then develop a little "pus pocket" of which I'll stick with a pin, a nail, my teeth, a box cutter, a pencil tip or anything else sharp I have handy--it'll ooze out green and be fine. Like I said, immune system rocks.

SIDEBAR: "PUS" is like the words "Arraignment" and "Chafe". There is not a good use of this word, and when its used in the sentence, I'm not sure its ever in a positive light.

Now, to the actual story that I'm telling, after all the back story...

Imagine my surprise when last Thursday, my index finger on my right hand was a little swollen. I don't necessarily remember biting this nail anytime recently, but it could have happened. On Friday, it was even more swollen, looking kind of icky. I pushed it a little, poked it a little, expecting to see the green ooze of pus coming out, and it didn't. Saturday, it was still icky. And bigger.

Sunday night, The Lovely Steph Leann and I are enjoying salads at Jason's Deli, and she stops me from eating. "What is wrong with your finger?" I looked down, realizing it was still swollen and pretty sore, and I just casually mentioned that I might have bitten it down too far days ago, and that it would go away. Then she pulled out the words that husbands just don't want to hear... "Honey, you need to go to the doctor."

"Really," I replied. "It'll go away."
"How long has it been like that?"
"I dunno, a few days."
"And it hasn't healed? You need to go to the doctor tomorrow. That's infected. You don't want that infection to get into your bloodstream."
And the rest of the night was filled with me making Swine Flu, Lyme Disease, finger & arm amputation jokes, and her smacking me and telling me that that isn't funny. (it is).

I go into The Happiest Place in the Mall on Monday, tell my Magical Manager whats going on (she knew about the swollen finger, having commented on it already) and that I had an appointment later that morning. Turns out that, yes, it was infected.

Doc put a cold freeze on it, which hurt, but didn't hurt nearly as bad as when he used a needle to go straight into the swollen area, right where the nail meets the skin, to lance it and bleed it out. And bleed is what it did. Like an almost empty tube of toothpaste, he ran his fingers up my index finger, squeezing out what would come out. I felt my finger giving birth. I have this uber-powerful ointment I put on it several times per day, a prescription ointment stronger than Neosporin. (MZ has already told me she wants it for her children when I'm done)

Oh, but there's more... my medical dysfunctions continue...

So, the next day I have an eye appointment. My contacts have really, really been bothering me for a month now. I just got this new brand, Acuvue Oasys, which is supposed to be revolutionary in comfort and vision and such. Whatever, I just wanted contacts.

A few days after I put them in, I noticed that even though my left eye was fine, my right eye was blurry. On the fourth day of having them in, they started irritating the heck out of me, and I had to yank out the right contact. Take out the right, gotta take out the left, to start with a fresh pair. Its like how they recommend getting all four tires at the same time.

Wore my glasses a few days, then went back to the contacts, a fresh pair. I checked my contacts to make sure the right one was going in right eye, left one to left eye, and sure enough, Right is -3.75, left is -3.25, so that was correct. Looked carefully to make sure they weren't inside out, and they weren't. Still, same situation... two days of good vision, then on Day Three, blurriness, and on Day Four, irritation and removal. Called the eye doctor, who didn't call me back. Went in there, and they told me it might just be a bad box. They gave me two new sets, told me to try them out.

Two days of good vision. Day Three, blurry. Day Four, had to pull them out... only this time, the left eye was joining in the festivities of wrecking d$'s vision. Finally, I made another appointment. I tried putting my contacts in again once more, and the same situation happened. All in all, I went through six pairs of contacts in a three & half week span. Not normal.

Now, I'm not adverse to wearing glasses, I don't mind it... for a while. However, I like being able to run or play tennis, and glasses hinder that, and if I go swimming, I can't see out of the pool, and you can't see anything when you wake up, and in the summer, I like my sunglasses, which my glasses get in the way of that too... but on Tuesday, I strode in, wearing my glasses, for my eye appointment, about 6 weeks after my last appointment.

Doctor came in, did the exam and lifted my eyelid. Its never a good thing when your doctor sighs, says, "This isn't good", and then grabs a picture to show you whats wrong.

"You have silicone deposits in your eyelids"

What?

"Johnson & Johnson, makers of Acuvue Oasys, and even Bausch & Lomb's brands have started putting silicone in their contacts. They won't admit it, but we all know this is whats happening. People are developing allergies to the silicone, and after a day or so, the contact becomes unwearable and irritating to the eyes, and its dangerous after a long period of time." She pulls out a picture, points to the normal looking eye lid and says, "See, this is what a normal looking eyelid looks like." Then she points to the one on the other side of the row, one that looks all red and weird and gross, and says, "This is what an eyelid that has a silicone allergy looks like."

Remember those pictures they showed you in 8th grade of a lung that had been in a smoker's body, or a someone's mouth that used dip, and the smoker or dipper in the classroom felt all awkward and weird? I felt like that smoker dipper just then. Especially when I asked, "Does mine look like this?" and she smiled weakly and said, "No, yours is off the charts. We've got to get that silicone out of your eyes."

So, now, not only do I have an allergy to silicone, which means I can NEVER have breast implants, I also cannot wear contacts for at least two weeks. I have another appointment in a few weeks, where she'll check my eyes to see if its gone, and if its not, then I have to go another few weeks without wearing contacts. When its all gone, though, they'll replace all of my contacts with a different kind, which is good.

I have two bottles of eye drops, one I used twice per day, the other four times per day... the latter is weird, as when I drop it in my eye, everything is foggy and gray. Almost like putting milk in your eye. And when it drips out of my eye, it looks like the android from Alien.

On top of that, I have these sulfur based antibiotic pills I'm taking for my finger infection, in addition to putting ointment on my hand three times per day. I am like that old guy who has to "go take his pills". Wait... I AM that old guy who has to "go take his pills".

But my immune system rolls on.

Maybe I'll Just Write it Down

Loved college, that's no secret. It thrills me to no end to be able to now scan and post memories via Facebook for the world--and those involved--to see, and its made me think... after reading what McQ did... writing a book.... it's perhaps time that I followed suit.

Her book is entitled "Strength in the Struggle", and you can preview it here, or just visit her site on the interweb for more details. McQ is a neat chick--I think you all would like her very much so if you met her.

Anyway, she self published, which is something I would have to do... the reason her book is a little expensive is that its graphic & photo heavy. For me, it would just be text. Fiction. I referenced what I wanted to write actually in a short story I wrote called "Hey Now" back in 1998, a story that brought in all those closest to me at the time, Shelby, Jenn Mullturp, Allysong, Eddie, Rad a Tad, Troy Mac, Melanie J and a few others.

That story was about a Troy homecoming weekend that brought back this group of friends, and their reconnecting, their lives and their future. Set in 2005, in it I had already written the story that I am finally considering putting to paper now. I still have it in a notebook somewhere.

Why say all of this online? Who knows. Maybe if I write all of this here, it will be enough to not have to worry about actually writing a novel. Or maybe it will get people like McQ going, "Where is it? Huh? You said you were going to write it! Faker!" However, I hope I get around to it, as I've been thinking about it for, I dunno, going on seven years now. I figure if I don't soon, eventually I'll lose all interest.

Then again, who wants to pay $20 for my rambling in novel form when you can get it for free here? So, we shall see.

The Story, aka, Woulda Shoulda Coulda

All of these lines across my face... tell you the story of who I am... so many stories of where I've been... and how I got to where I am

At heart, I'm a nostalgic person. Seriously. I hold on to things I should've let go a long time past, if for no other reason than that something might have a story I can tell. This is much to the dismay of The Lovely Steph Leann, mind you.

Probably the focal point of this entire argument is the famed Ren & Stimpy Toilet Paper. For you young folk out there, Ren & Stimpy was a cartoon that would come on Nickelodeon on Saturday nights. My high school Saturdays were spent working at The Wright Place restaurant, waiting tables in Samson, Alabama, pining for Julie Wise, The Official Clouds in My Coffee High School Crush, though really preparing to end up marrying Cristie Wright. Not that I was planning that, but that's what I was supposed to do, according to everyone in the cafe, anyway.

Ren & Stimpy would come on, I would make sure to plan my 20 minute meal break around that time, and watch it on the cafe television. And laugh, really, really hard. I mean, how can you not laugh at a fake commercial for a game called "Don't Whiz on the Electric Fence"? Classic.

This love for Ren & Stimpy carried through my freshman year in college, where I became fast friends with Mandy Stewart, Miranda Bryant, Bobby Black, Bradley Grantham and a host of others who somehow impacted my life either in small or large ways.

It was the Christmas of 1993 that Mandy Stewart gave me a roll of Ren & Stimpy Toilet Paper as a gift. It was wonderful. It was hilarious, and I loved my friend Mandy--weirdly enough, she was probably one of the top ten most beautiful girls I'd ever met, yet I never had a thing for her. Personally, I was a Spring Tolson fan myself, but she was unreachable.

Where was I?

But these stories don't mean anything... when you've got no one to tell them to... it's true... I was made for you

Anyway, I haven't talked to Mandy in about... six years? Seven, maybe? Yet, I still have that toilet paper. I mean, you don't want to use it--I'm not sure of the life of the quality in a roll of TP, but I'm sure 15 years is more than can be expected. Why do I still have it? Perhaps I've had it for so long now, its crossed the "But I've Had This for -- Years" threshold... when you have something for soooo long, its just hard to get rid of. I should.

The only sentimental value of it is just a memory of a good friendship that I had for a season of a few years, a friendship that actually had begun to fade away before we even lost contact--you know how that is, you become close to someone, and over time you slowly but surely drift in different directions.

My friendships, solid for a time, with Allyson Guy, Eddie Hamner and Melanie Dill were just like that. Solid for a season, some years, some months and then *poof*. They go from being people you trust will give their life for you--and maybe they still would, who knows--to people that aren't anywhere on your list to call if you had a flat. Not to say they wouldn't help, again who knows, but they wouldn't be on my list.

I climbed across the mountain tops... swam all across the ocean blue... I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules... but baby I broke them all for you...

My whole point is nostalgia. I have a number of items that I haven't rid myself of, perhaps because the only thing they do hold is the opportunity to tell a story. The t-shirt I have that says "I Love NY" on it, signed by the members of the 2002 Mission Trip team from Shades Mountain, including the aforementioned Melanie, is in a box. I talk to the team slim to none, though I've made several Facebook connections, yet the t-shirt affords the chance to tell the story of the puppet show in the park, or how the term "Some Detours Are Worth It" became the mantra for the trip.

What's funny is that, even as I heralded all the memories the t-shirt held, I sat for a second, frozen, thinking of something. Finally, the mantra came out. Perhaps its time for the t-shirt to go.

I have a bad habit of woulda shoulda coulda thinking. Seriously, I need to stop. I have always said there were two things I would go back and do if I could zip back to 1988... the first is invent Build-a-Bear.

Think of this... a store that sells teddy bears, but YOU have to come in and make your own, doing the work, then you pay me for it. That's brilliant.

The other is I'd write Harry Potter. At this point, probably from memory. Oh, don't worry, I would anonymously send JK Rowling a check for a few million, making sure she was okay with life. And I would NEVER, EVER make Dumbledore gay. There's no sense in that. In fact, its just stupid. But I digress.

Oh because even when I was flat broke... you made me feel like a million bucks... you do and I was made for you

But in my woulda shoulda coulda... what if I had lived in a home that wasn't filled with cigarette smoke for my 18 years growing up? Looking back, I'm sure I smelled freakin' awful, especially when I sweat. The Official Clouds in My Coffee High School Crush Julie Wise woulda totally gone out with me, I'm sure. Well, maybe, but I would have had a better chance. Or what if I had actually gone out with Cristie Wright? This wasn't out of the realm of possibility, for a while anyway, so I'm not just grasping at straws here....

In my woulda shoulda coulda world... what if I had never applied for a credit card that freshman fall? What if I just went to school, say two quarters (Troy State was on quarters until the fall after I graduated, then they went to semesters) then worked a quarter? What if I had never gotten two Visas, a Mastercard and a Discover?

In my woulda shoulda coulda world... what if I had paid attention when coming through Elba, instead of running that red light and crashing the Ciera? Or stayed awake when coming home from Enterprise, instead of falling asleep at the wheel and crashing into a telephone pole? Or paid attention when turning left towards The Deuce, instead of just blindly turning in the path of a black Mercedes, driving by Gangsta Pimp? Or stood my ground for the cheaper, more economical Tercel instead of being pushed into the bigger, pricier Sable?

All things I wonder.

In my woulda shoulda coulda world... what if I had studied a little harder, not lost my scholarship because I was lazy for a few months and all that hard earned money had stayed in my pocket and not gone to pay for school? What if I had made it work with Jennifer Mullins? What if I had asked out Elisabeth Bradshaw that night on the golf course? Or what about Melanie Jackson? Julie Echols? Chrissy Bullock? (All married now with kids, or on the way at least). Or Amy Wible? That alone is a story that I could write for days. And did, actually.

In my woulda shoulda coulda world... what if I had actually asked out Mary Ann Crittenden again? (this is only assuming she would have said yes, an assumption I make blindly, unsure of the actual answer at that time, and unsure that I want to know) In this world, I'm not thoroughly convinced that God has One Certain Person for each. Perhaps He, in His wisdom, has a couple, though knowing what He has in store for you, but allowing you the free will to choose what your plan is, versus what His might be? I bring up Mary Ann in this particular line of thought not by coincidence, but in thinking that she might be one of those particular people.

Now, I don't say this out of any dishonor or disrespect for The Lovely Steph Leann... I'm pretty sure she had one or two "What Ifs" in her life, a couple or two of One Certain Persons... heck, she woulda shoulda coulda ended up with Jason Quinn (!) and I have another friend of mine who asked her out, before she and I started dating. She said no, but she might've said yes. But, it makes me think...

In my woulda shoulda coulda world... what if... when The Lovely Steph Leann Campbell had told me in the fall of 2001 that she loved me... what if I had admitted what I knew to be true, yet took me another 9 months to admit... what if I had told her the same. That she was who I was supposed to be with. What if? That's a whole other year we could have added to our story.

Let me wrap this part of the discussion up by saying very plainly and clearly--whether she was My One Certain Person, or the One Certain Person He had for me at The Most Divine Moment, either way, The Lovely Steph Leann and I were meant for each other. Just be around us awhile, you'll probably see that.

One of my favorite things to hear is "I love hanging out with you guys... you guys are so fun together". Not "cute", which I'm sure is nice, but "fun", as in, we are a couple that people enjoy being around as much when we're together as when we're apart. This is a simple compliment, yet its more rare than you might think.

You see the smile that's on my mouth... it's hiding the words that don't come out... and all of my friends who think that I'm blessed... they don't know my head is a mess... no, they don't know who I really am... and they don't know what I've been through like you do... and I was made for you.

I'm wasn't really sure where this blog was going when I started, but I think I know where it will end up. Yes, Clouds in My Coffee Drinkers, you can go crazy thinking about the woulda shoulda coulda in your life... sometimes I think I might. But I lead quite a charmed life. Not a perfect life, mind you, and I probably under-serve my Best Friend and Helpmate in every way possibly, be it conscience or un-, and the fact that I have a personality on Clouds in My Coffee named The Goddess can attest to that... but The Lovely Steph Leann is the blessing that I cannot fathom, if that makes any sense.

This song I've quoted, "The Story" by Brandi Carlile, is amazing. It just is. It actually finished as the #32 Coolest Thing about 2007. I first heard it when I watched Grey's Anatomy's earlier seasons, and it just hits me in one of those funny ways. It has a double digit play on Dave's iPod (though that doesn't mean much nowadays... sometimes I get on "song kicks" where I just want to hear the same song over and over, be it old or new... right now, my Song Kick includes "No Time to Kill" and "Good Run of Bad Luck" by Clint Black, "If I Ever Lose My Faith In You" by Sting and "I Guess the Lord Must Be In New York City" by Nilsson, among others. Who knew?) already, and it doesn't make me sad... or happy... just nostalgic.

All of these lines across my face... tell you the story of who I am... so many stories of where I've been... and how I got to where I am

Bottom line is, I'm a nostalgic person. I've stated this already. I enjoy thinking back to college and even high school, the memories I've had, the things I've done. Perhaps I'll take a cue from McQ, a certain Dave Hall of Famer when she comes on the ballot, and just take the plunge. I've got lots of stories of where I've been... but, as Brandi Carlile says...

But these stories don't mean anything when you've got no one to tell them to... It's true... I was made for you... Ohh yea it's true... That I was made for you


This is the video that accompanied Grey's Anatomy. Might I say this might be the exact, perfect song to go with this video. As a matter of fact, I'm commissioning Scotty Latta to work on this project when I die...

I want this video played at my funeral, but take out all the Grey's Anatomy clips, and replace them with video clips of my own life... let's get Chris McCall and I jumping off the bridge at Ponce de Leon Springs from my childhood, and waiting tables with Victor, Cristie and Sandy at The Wright Place, and an over dramatic shot of my running across campus at Troy State late for class, and for good measure, throw in a shot or two of Tiffany Abbott (The Official Clouds in My Coffee Troy State Crush) rejecting me, perhaps get my first slow dance with Angiejay... wait, scratch that... or maybe Eddie and I dressing up as clowns at that mission retreat, or me directing WalkAbout, and a great video clip of me standing with Best Man Wookiee at my wedding, and I as Best Man at his wedding, and you gotta toss in some Deuce, and Lil Sister Ashley, and KT, and maybe me arguing with Clouds in My Coffee Atty General Brad Latta over politics (we really didn't, but it would look good for the video) and... well, just be creative.

One final thought. This is one of those songs, like many others, you can play at the perfect time. Perhaps when there's a break-up and a get-back-together. But you can play this at the wrong time... like a few weeks ago, when I watched Penn State beat Ohio State. They did a Joe Paterno montage, and played this song behind it. Creepy. Very creepy.

When I Get Where I'm Going... '98 through '03

I wanted to go to Nashville. I wanted to go to Atlanta. I really wanted to go to Mobile. Perhaps I could go to Knoxville. Or maybe Savannah. Best laid plans work out, sometimes... and sometimes, they don't.

As much as I'd like to say that it was fate that led me here, or that it was chance, or a job, or something else, I really have to put the blame on two entities in my life... God and Amy Wible. I thought Birmingham was terrible. It was a big, convoluted city, comprised of about two dozen small towns crammed together to make one big metropolis. I didn't want to be here. But I kept feeling it. And finally, about a month before the move, I was driving down I-65... actually in Birmingham, for some reason, and it just clicked. I nodded my head, and said, "Okay, God. I'll do it. This is what You want, and I guess I'll have to comply."

Here's what I wrote, in an essay called "A Love Story In Three Acts", and this was Act Two, Scene Two. (for the whole thing from the beginning, you can click here... its quite a great story, methinks).

June passes and July is almost over. Though I really, really want to go to Mobile, I feel God is calling me to Birmingham. I'm fighting it in my prayerlife, not wanting to admit this is what God wants for me, even though it was pretty evident, since none of my interviews in Mobile was going to lead to anything. Through some random conversation with Amy, I mention a possible move to Birmingham, possibly working for this new Christian station starting up called Reality Radio 101.1. She tells me how great that would be, because with her in Tuscaloosa, I'd only be 45 minutes away, not two hours, and how great it would be dating the DJ for a Christian radio station. Much like God led me to Christian drama through Chrissy, God finally sealed the deal with me for Birmingham through Amy. --July 7, 2006

So, randomly, Claire Baldwin and I drove up to Birmingham to find me an apartment, and I managed to find a small, two bedroom loft apartment for only $475 per month. I'm imagining this apartment's rent has gone up slightly. Anyway, I paid the deposit, and was excited to finally move!

So, on August 17th, 1998, Shelby Logan, Eddie Hamner, Troy McConnell, Allyson Guy and a select few others helped me load up the vehicle(s), drive to Birmingham, unload the stuff, drive BACK to Troy, then drive back to Birmingham to unload the rest of it. My friends rocked. They still do. Allyson, I still miss you, friend...

Anyway, they stayed the night, Eddie and Troy at the Loft, the girls at Allyson's home in Alabaster, and they left early the next morning. And... I was alone. It was hard for the first few months... the job that I thought would be my ticket here in Birmingham ended up being a disaster, after a week....

And that led me to the Adecco Temp Agency, where I met a temp consultant named George Marling, who, after hearing I had just moved to Birmingham, said, "Have you found a church yet? (I nodded my head no) Well, here... (setting down a green pen in front of me)... this is my church. Valleydale Baptist. You should give them a call. You might like it."

I tried it a few times over the course of the next few months... and liked it. I was officially baptized in January of 1999, and for the first time in my life, I became a church member. Several of my closest friends--Troy, Allyson, Shelby, AmyAlex, Melanie, etc--were there, and it was amazing.

I still didnt have a lot of local friends, though, as I made frequent weekend trips to Troy, staying with Joey Hinton and Tad Roose (whom I know I annoyed after a while, crashing on their couch...), but I did have one friend that I grew close too... a chick in my singles class, Rebecca Jourdan.

I met her not only at Valleydale Baptist Church, but also figured out we worked together at Parisian Corporate, the job I took after being hired on through Adecco. She was five or six years older, but so darn good looking. In October of 1998, I had my wisdom teeth removed, and Rebecca volunteered to take me to the dentist, wait for me, and drive me home. It's important to note that I had quite a crush on Rebecca at that time, so when she took me, full of drugs and gauze, home, and helped me to my couch, I vaguely remember expressing my true devotion to her, and I vaguely remember her smiling.

Not too long after that, early 1999, I was hanging out with the high schoolers and Big Eddy Mac, and Downtown Jerry Brown at the house across from the church, when I met the high school intern, Tom Johnson. It felt like a "Anakin... this is Obi Wan Kenobi" kind of moment. Unbeknownst to the church, but beknowst to many of us, Tom was liking this chick named Stephanie Nipp.

It was at a party that I first heard about Michael Nipp, who went to school in North Alabama, and was managing a band called Soul Pilot. His parents told me that I should meet him, and not too long after that I did. And it was Michael who took me to Sybil Johnson's Bible Study, where I met Meredith Quintana, Shawn Sharp, Jill Berthon, Amy Valdmanis, Jennifer Pritchett, Ty Coffey and so many more, people who would add to the backbone of influence already given by Troy, AmyAlex, Shelby, Claire, the BCM, Cristie Wright, Chrissy and so many more.

Michael and Tom decided to move in together... they invited me along. I jumped at the chance. So for the summer, it was Michael in one room, Tom in the other, and me on the couch of our apartment in Pinebrook, on Little Valley Road. When September came, Tom moved to Samford, I moved into Tom's room, and Shawn Sharp moved into Michael's room, with Michael still there. When Christmas rolled around (and we had our first Apartment party, a precursor to big parties to come) Tom moved to the couch. It was here that I met Tommy McLeod, mostly because I came home one night and he was randomly sitting on our couch, watching tv. I'm not sure Mikey was even there, or if he was, he might have been asleep.

And then... one day in May, Michael came home and said, "Hey Dave... I found this four bedroom apartment not too far from here, over behind Ellis Piano. What do you think?" And so it was. The Deuce was born. The legend was made. Common Ground was born not too long after that.

Passion One Day was in May of 2000. Incredible event. Will never forget it, or the fact I spent a month going out with Jill Berthon.

My dad passed away in 2000... it was a devestating blow to me in so many ways. The hardest part was that I didn't cry at the funeral. I had so many mixed emotions. And I remember, a week later at Thursday night Bible study, when Nathan Tutor was teaching, we were in prayer... and I just fell apart. It was terrible, and yet, wonderful. I remember Ty Coffey putting his hands on my feet, and Amy Valdmanis and Meredith Quintana both leaning over and touching me while we prayed. It was beautiful.

Speaking of beautiful, Wookiee, Yours Truly, Michael, Shawn, Tom, Jennifer Hudson, Tommy, Brook DeRamus (our downstairs neighbor--he was an oceanographer who spent alot of time in Mobile, so we didn't see much of him), Matt Latta, David Mark Osborne and Daniel Powell started this football game... we called it The Deuce Football Championships, or The DFC, for short. We figured we'd do it this year, and just have fun... I mean, who expects this to go past a single football season?

I let go of Amy Wible in 2001. The closure wasn't there, at least all the way, but it was finally over. My heart begun to heal... and I had already been introduced to Stephanie Campbell. That was a saga over the next two years I won't recount fully, but during such time, The Deuce lived, survived, and stayed strong. I witnessed Stephanie Nipp break up with Tom, which was rough on all of us. We watched Ginger and Matt get married, which was blessed on all of us.

I started a new job in May of 2001, hired away from Parisian to Cox Radio, to work with 106.9 Oldies, WZZK and Rock 97.3. I met Michelle Carr, who would quickly become one of my heroes. Plus, she's a great chick.

WalkAbout was going strong too... started in 1999, it had begun to be a major part of my life, as it is now. And in 2001, the first ever WalkAbout dinner theater was presented, starring Meredith Osborne, Andrea Brobst and Katie Noland, among others. Sometime around 3 in the morning, on July 4th, I also had my first kiss with Stephanie Campbell. She was, and still is, fantastic.

September 11th happened. It was tough on everyone, as we all sat mesmorized by the footage. I wrote about it here (part one) and here (part two), and then again in 2006, here and here.

In 2002, we knew The Deuce was bigger than itself when I came home to find Mikey sitting on the couch, watching tv... nothing unusual here, except for the five or six Samford students sitting around the kitchen table, playing cards. "Dude, who are they?" I whispered to Mikey, sitting down beside him. "I dunno... I thought you knew them..." he replied.

I went out with Amy Vos once, on a single date. Seriously, she was just so awesome. I was quite disappointed, at that time, that things didnt lead to a second date, though I look back and see all the things going on at that time in both of our lives was truly God making sure she would end up with Tommy... a relationship I saw born in and around The Deuce, just like I had seen Justin and Jennifer's relationship born in a conversation on The Deuce floor.

My friendship with Melanie Dill grew, and then, over the course of the summer, faded, just like my friendship with Allyson had done a few years go. My friendship with Stephanie was still there, though. I went on the toughest mission trip ever, to NYC, with Melanie, Alex, Fish, Liz, Chad, Mark and several others. And when I came back, my head was spinning. I sat down with the guys during our weekly Bible study, and said, "Um... I think I'm going to go out with Stephanie Campbell. Like, seriously, chase her. This is what I'm supposed to do."

Once the meeting was over, I was in my room, and Michael came in, closing the door behind him. He told me how happy he was about me and Stephanie. He told me that he had been praying for us, how he had--and all the other guys--had been hoping that something like this would happen. And it did. Tom had already started dating Jill Berthon, Tommy and Amy were together, Michael had already met Ashley O'Neal, Justin and Jennifer were going to be together forever by now, and somehow, it was my turn.

Our final Deuce Christmas bash was in December 2002... it was a grand gala, complete with performances by Ben Caver and Joel Blount, and we had an attendance of over 70 people. This success was truly why we never planned a DeuceFest Eye Vee (IV) or a Christmas bash in 2003... I actually didn't want to face the idea that we might not have that many people come. The Deuce was beginning its slow decline, a graceful, gentle drop. We knew when to stop, and we did.

February of 2003 is when the Challenger exploded. It was also my very first day on the job at Starbucks. I was hanging out with Katy Scott, one of my favorite people ever, and a possible first ballot Dave Hall of Famer (when I finally open the doors) and we were at Starbucks in Mountain Brook. Her friend Kerry Walls was working, and being d$, I had to admire that Kerry was really quite cute. Kerry says, "You should apply for the new store... in Vestavia!" So I did.

I worked four nights per week, for over a year, earning money for debt, comic books, a possible proposal, and more. April 2003 found me in kinda hot water, though... I had an expired license. And a ticket from 2000 that I somehow forgot about. No, I'm serious, I actually forgot about it... and the officer who pulled me over for the tag reminded me.

Mind you, I am headed to work at Starbucks. I get pulled over, then quickly arrested and put into the back of a police car. Randomly, Ty, Mikey, Wookiee and Tom are leaving together, and pass by, only to see me on the side of the road in the backseat of a police car. No kidding, the officer looked like Eddie George, and I told him so. For the next twenty minutes, I sat in the back of a car, handcuffed, talking through an open window to the arresting officer about the Titans chances that fall.

Yes, yes, I was taken to the station, fingerprinted, and booked. I never saw the inside of the cell, though, as the Dolla' Posse, made up of several of the guys, bailed me out quickly. Laughing. I went to work, ink still on my hands. Boy, I learned alot from my time in prison. Don't drop the soap.

Summer came, and I was able to save up enough for a ring, to which I quietly and unceremoniously gave to The Lovely Steph Leann. And now we planned for a wedding, while attending Tommy's and Amy's in the fall. Wookiee was now engaged. Tom was now engaged as well. Mikey and Ashley were heading that way.

And this is where we'll leave it... a quick recap of the first five years in Birmingham, with the next five to come later... Sunday, August 17th, 2008 celebrates 10 years in the city, after a plan of only being here 1 to 3 years somehow doesn't work out like I planned.