A Place Called Blogsville (Prologue)

Waxing Sentimental
I usually do a special post on the anniversary of this space, which today marks six years for AYBABTU. However I’ve never really taken the time to talk about why I got started blogging, and how my concept and awareness of it as a medium evolved to get me to the place I was six years ago today.

I think I’m gonna do that now.

It’s been awhile since I’ve written a post like this. Heck — it’s been awhile since I’ve written much of anything at all. But I’m not gonna worry about that; not right now; hopefully not ever again. Seven months of forced self-employment has taught me a lot about priorities — not to mention the value of melancholy as a state of mind for me.

See, navel-gazing is an art form that comes pretty naturally to me, and to be perfectly honest, has always been the basis of this blog, whether I like it or not. I don’t write 5-Steps To a Happier ‘X’-kind-of-posts. I write long, thoughtful essays about my life, my memories, and the people I love.

After struggling to morph my style into something more akin to the today’s ‘grip it and rip it’ mentality of ‘useful’ blogging, I’ve finally decided I might as well go with what I know.

I’m a thinker, and this is something I’ve been thinking a lot about lately; somewhat initiated by the previous Happy Birthday post to my friend, Michael, who is the greatest personification of what I value the Web as a social medium to be. The fact that he and I could become friends, coming from different parts of the country, with totally different backgrounds (not to mention, upon initial introduction, thinking that each other was sort of a jerk) is simply amazing to me, and not to be taken lightly. It’s something to be celebrated.

However, in the yin/yan of relationship, where there is celebration on one end of the dynamic, the opposing emotion can present itself just as powerfully on the other. The mourning of friendships that die from malnutrition is often sad; even more so because sometimes the death is inevitable.

This is a look back at the beginnings of my personal experience with blogging as a social medium and community-generator. It took place at a time when social media was in its infancy, and its effect, decidedly more dramatic — in my opinion — than it is even today.

It’s about a place that has always been my touchstone as a participant in the SocMed phenomenon; a place that revealed a side of me I never knew existed; a place called Blogsville


Next: In A Blog of My Own (Revisited)

What if? (The Rhetoric of Love)

What if today,
You could see yourself
The way we see you?

Or the mischievous toddler
Who never stopped
For more than a minute?

So full of life
and curiosity
about the world around him?

Then you would always know
Without a doubt,
How much we have loved
(and worried…);
watching you change
and grow
and become
the kind of man
we always knew you would be.

And what then?

Would you realize just how far you’ve come;
how proud you’ve made us?

Would you sob like that little boy —
just as I am right now as I write this?

Would you know how grateful
we are to have you in our lives?

What if you could know how much,
how often we think of the journey
that you’ve made for yourself?

Then you would always know
how excited we’ll be
to see you reach your destination.

And we’ll be cheering you on,
all the way.

Happy Birthday, Shawn.

You will never cease to amaze us.

Love,

Dad & Mom

Blog Post (Toast)Tease

Yeah, yeah, I know...bad pun
Believe me, tomorrow’s post(s) will be better than this one, and hopefully, there will indeed be two — one here, and one here, on my hockey blog.

I just wanted to give you this little tease to let you know that I’m trying my darnedest to resuscitate this thing, while not completely sacrificing the other blog — and vice-versa.

See, I’ve got this problem: I think too much. I exhaustively research every topic on which I post for fear of mis-remembering, mis-quoting, or generally mis-taking a subject. I hate when I do that, and over the years I’ve become incredibly paranoid of allowing myself to slip into the habit of anything one might consider playing fast and loose with the facts.

It’s one thing when I’m recounting a memory from my own personal life; artistic license is still allowed in that regard. But when I’m talking about other people, places or things that can be (and usually WILL be) verified for accuracy by other peeps, the LAST thing I wanna do is be called to the carpet by someone taking issue with the acc’s o’ my facts.

So all that to say, I’ve become a slow-post. I think about what I write, I love what I write, and I will post no blog before its time. Hence my less-than-prolific output in recent years. Complicate that with the addition of PMFF (which DEMANDS both accuracy and timeliness) and you can see; between doing what I can in trying to find a job, finding and completing freelance work, and writing two blogs, my mind is toast most of the time these days — and I’m loving every minute of it.

My wife doesn’t understand — and I’m not quite sure I do either — but it sure beats the hell outta sitting around and worrying.

Sooooo...

Tomorrow — hopefully by the afternoon, I’ll be posting A Place called Blogsville, a very important (for me) look back at this blog and the history of Blogger.com.

I originally began writing it as part of my last, most recent post, wishing my friend Michael a happy birthday last Thursday, being that he has been a large part of my overall experience here on AYBABTU. About halfway through writing the story, I knew it was much too long (heh...imagine that!) to include in one post, so I broke off the Mikey part and continued writing.

It’s nearly complete, and for those of you who may still maintain a space on Blogger, or started here before succumbing to temptation and jumping to Wordpress; and particularly those who still occasionally look in on this blog, who were a part of the community of folks I rubbed elbows with from the days of ‘Kev’s Place’ through about 2007, I trust you’ll find it a fun little romp down memory lane.

On PMFF, I intend to post for tomorrow’s (Wednesday) morning rush, my take on the Nashville Predators/Chicago Blackhawks first-round Stanley Cup Playoff match-up, but from a perspective that not many have thus-far addressed.

So look for that if you’re a follower of my other blog, but be sure to be back here tomorrow afternoon (approximately 3:00pm CDT) for my (possibly) two-parter on Blogger.com


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Well, I guess Facebook is Good for Something After All

Happy Birthday, Knucklehead
Although I’ve had an account on Facebook for much longer, I’m clearly a Twitter enthusiast when it comes to a preference between the two ubiquitous social media destinations.

Oh sure, FB has more to offer in the way of features and contact messaging, and quite frankly, you really don’t need to wade aimlessly for weeks or months to really ‘get’ Facebook. That’s only one reason why it’s so wildly popular.

However once you get the hang of it, Twitter is so much more immediate, malleable, and interesting in my opinion. You can easily conduct half a dozen conversations at one time on Twitter, though admittedly, that’s stretching things a bit for someone as ADD-esque as me.

But it’s much easer to filter out the noise and cancel out the silliness, gameplay, and other social nonessentials to a coherent online conversation on Twitter as opposed to FB. I prefer it for that reason above all others.

However there’s still plenty to like about Facebook.

Were it not for this, the most successful and longest-standing of all major social media applications, I would be all but disconnected from many of my high school friends and an even greater percentage of my extended family.

I love it for that, and will always maintain a presence there.

But today, I’m particularly grateful for one little bonus feature that Facebook offers, because it gives me the opportunity to extend a greeting to someone whom I care a great deal about.

Today is the birthday of probably my favorite person in all of cyberspace, MakeMineMike.

How do I know it’s his birthday? Certainly not because of my fabulous memory! Facebook reminded me. FB’s birthday reminder app is by far the most useful ‘push’ type of notification (other than, obviously, notifying you when someone writes a message on your wall) that Facebook provides; because if you’re like me, you need to be reminded to go to the bathroom most of the time.

And sorry, they still haven’t figured out an app for that just yet.

Next best thing though is the birthday reminder for those FB friends about whom you might just need a friendly memory-poke.

And given that Mike and I don’t communicate on as frequent a basis as we used to, that’s pretty helpful for moi.

So today is Mikey’s big Day and lest I embarrass him too much further here, allow me to sum up saying that I think of him often, and consider it a privilege to call him a friend.

Happy Birthday, pal. I hope you and Randi are able to go out and have a great time tonight.

Talk to you soon.

:)

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Discover a Musical Treasure: 3rd & Lindsley Bar And Grill

 Long Time Coming
It's been an interesting year for me, blog-wise. I began a hockey blog last September and began engaging not only a whole new group of readers, but have met an entirely new group of friends and contacts. It has it been a lot of fun, writing about the Nashville Predators, but in an opportunity that came up this week, I've gotten a chance to do something I had been wanting to do here on AYBABTU for years.

The Tennessean's OnNashville.com blog is celebrating Nashville in April and asked bloggers to submit their reasons why April is great. Below is the story I submitted, but as usual, I went a little too wordy and they asked me to kindly cut it down to size. You can view the abridged version here.

The subject is my favorite music venue, evAR, the one place that convinced me that Nashville was the place I truly wanted to be.

* * * * *

Off the Beaten Path
There aren’t too many things I enjoy doing as much as taking in a Nashville Predators hockey game, but one of them is sampling the vast assortment of live music from venues all over this great city.

If you’re visiting Nashville for the first time, or the fiftieth — or worse yet, if you live here — and are still under the mistaken notion that Music City is only about Country Music, you’re missing out on something truly special.

The Ryman Auditorium, you know about. Oh, and you’ve probably heard of the Bluebird Café and perhaps The Exit-In.

But if you’re looking for live music that certainly doesn’t exclude Country, but by the same token, doesn’t require boots and a cowboy hat to get you in the door, I’ve got just the place.

My family and I relocated to Nashville from Southern California in 1992, and admittedly, Country Music wasn’t the dominant genre in my CD collection. As far as live music went, the honky-tonks on lower Broad were fun, but didn’t satisfy my jones for the more eclectic mix of styles I’d grown up with in Los Angeles; that is, until I discovered one of Nashville’s not-so-best kept secrets among music venues, 3rd & Lindsley Bar And Grill.

It’s an unpretentious, unassuming place, tucked away in a strip mall, about a half-mile off the beaten path of the most typical Music City visitor, but like many hidden treasures, the value is in the discovery.

The intimate, 275-seat bar and restaurant features a ground-level stage at the apex of it’s L-shaped listening room layout, providing a wonderful up-close vantage point for the vast majority of it’s occupants. This physical connection with the artist onstage instantly bonds listener with performer, making for an unforgettable musical experience.

The Progressive Approach
Owner Ron Brice opened 3rd & Lindsley back in February of 1991, to start afresh with a new and a different approach than that of his previous musical venture.

Brice formerly owned another local Country Music club called The Stagecoach Lounge on Murfreesboro Road. But in the midst of the sweeping ‘Country-as-Pop’ explosion of the late 1980s, he sensed a shift in the wind.

By 1990, Brice began to notice the passing genre fad depart from the innovative sound of artists like Garth Brooks and Lyle Lovett, growing more homogenized and much less progressive than just a few years prior. He decided to shift gears.

That wonderful confluence of musical styles that was the early 1990s offered a veritable cornucopia of sound from which Brice began to showcase; attracting acts for his new club based on the progressive, blended genres of Blues, Adult Alternative, and Americana.

Not coincidentally, he discovered an important partner in another recently-minted Nashville institution, radio station WRLT, Lightning 100.

A Match Made in Progressive Musical Heaven
One year earlier, in March of 1990, Lightning 100 had begun its current 20-year run as Music City’s longest-running radio station without a format change. It’s progressive, independent philosophy hailed from the golden age of album-oriented rock radio of the late 60s and early 70s, featuring an eclectic mix of classic rock, adult alternative, reggae, blues, and Americana that was a true reflection of the musical diversity of Nashville’s songwriting and recording industry, which is often masked and somewhat overwhelmed by the preponderance of the Country Music media machine.

It was a perfect marriage, and WRLT Senior Account Executive, Lesli (‘Dollar’) Bills, was the matchmaker. Working with Lesli, Brice began to offer ‘battle of the Bands’ contests, attracting exposure for local bands whose music was also supported by Lightning 100.

Soon, a number of strong regional and national acts began to frequent the 3rd & Lindsley stage with regularity; names like Ashley Cleveland, Jonell Mosser, and Bob & Etta Britt, were joined by the likes of John Prine and John McLaughlin as regular performers.

Brice said of his relationship with Bills and Lightning 100, “I just gave them my whole advertising budget and said, ‘there…now, make me or break me!’” Needless to say, 3rd & Lindsley ain’t broke yet.

On the synergy of common musical interests between he and his radio partner, Brice added, “Their cool, progressive approach has never gotten stale or diluted; it has stayed the same since we started out…(the relationship is) just a win-win-win.”

Nashville Sunday Night
3rd & Lindsley’s reputation for featuring Nashville’s best top-notch local, regional, and National acts indeed remains; fueled in part by yet another collaborative effort with Lightning 100.

Since 1996 the weekly radio and World Wide Web broadcast, Nashville Sunday Night has showcased a variety of top talent from all ends of the contemporary music spectrum.

It’s particularly interesting to note the numerous emerging artists who have performed on NSN and have gone on to national prominence soon thereafter. Names like Train, David Gray, Ray LaMontagne , The Fray, and KT Tunstall, all performed there and almost immediately thereafter went nuclear on the national scene.

This is just a partial listing of the many outstanding contemporary artists who have been a part of the
Nashville Sunday Night broadcast, live from 3rd & Lindsley since 1996.

Tin Pan South
Among the other special musical events 3rd & Lindsley participates in is the annual Nashville Songwriters Association International showcase, Tin Pan South, which wraps up tonight with a terrific lineup featuring, Butterfly Boucher, Katie Herzig, Trent Dabbs, and Matthew Perryman Jones.

Nashville Sunday Night takes this week off in recognition of the Easter holiday, but returns next week with yet another hugely notable performer who calls Nashville home, the immortal Leon Russell.

If you’re in town for any of these shows, or whenever you’re in Nashville, be sure to take advantage of this tremendous venue, where the food is as good as the music!

3rd & Lindsley is located at 818 3rd Avenue South; one half mile south of Broadway in Nashville. Visit their website for more details.

Tickets are typically available at the door, but for select shows, be sure to visit 3rd & Lindsley’s calendar page for advance sale tickets. Take it from a longtime fan of this venue, in light of the limited seating capacity, when they offer advance tickets for an artist you want to see, pick ‘em up; you don’t want to get shut out at the door. And you definitely don’t want to miss out on this treasure among Nashville’s musical landmarks!


* * * * *

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I Think Dylan Would be Proud

No...not THAT Dylan.
I’ll be expanding on this post later, when I have time, but now I’ve got a bunch of stuff I need to take care of in my offline life. I just wanted to take a minute to let those who care about this place know that at long last, actually two full years after beginning this project (and nearly four years after I was goaded into doing it), I have finally upgraded the design of my blog’s template, and will hopefully follow suit in my overall goal to upgrade my presence in this place that has been such a special part of my life for the better part of a decade.

Please look around and note the new, static pages in the horizontal navigation bar above. Two of the pages are merely updated versions of the linked info pages I had hosted myself before, but which now are a part of the blog itself, thanks to Google/Blogger finally adding the feature that Wordpress users had enjoyed for years.

For those previously unfamiliar, the ‘About’ and ‘Greatest Writs’ pages are, respectively, an introduction to my blog and a little bit about me, and a self-appointed ‘best of’ list of the posts I've written over the years about my life, family, and experiences.

Additionally, there are two new pages. ‘What Happen?’ is the definitive recap of how this blog got its name. I've also added a brand new Contact page, with a form from which you can throw out a general comment or message not necessarily pertaining to a post. This is also a great place to call me to the carpet on a typo or other unintentional misinformation that might have slipped through my fingers. I appreciate constructive criticism and welcome any other general comments you might have.

Still Workin’ on it
There are a couple of features that are still under construction, but which will both be completed soon. One is already on display: the Archive Story Index is a long-standing feature I added a few years ago, but haven't done a very good job of keeping current. It now it lists each AYBABTU post from May 2004 through the end of 2007, but I’ll be bringing it up to date shortly.

I'm also in the process of adding a detailed ‘Faves’ page, which will include a blogroll and site description of all my favorite folks on the Net, both from the ‘old neighborhood’ of Blogger.com, as well as the new friends I’ve made in the last couple years through my involvement with the hockey blogging community and on the social media phenomenon that is Twitter.

All that said, I hope you like the new AYBABTU. It’s been a long time coming, but for me, anyway, it's been worth the wait.

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Let The Ugliness Begin...

Here we go folks.
I'll be updating the template over the next couple days, so be prepared for some weirdness. But don't worry, everything should be better than new (with at least a new commenting system in place) within a few hours.

Wish me luck!

Kicking Up Dust...For Reals This Time

Real quick-like
I don't know if you remember, but a little more than a year ago I indicated that AYBABTU was going to be undergoing a major facelift/overhaul/refocusing of direction; an 'AJ 2.0' treatment, as it were.

Well, I got close, but it never happened. Once 2009 got underway, I started seeing the handwriting on the wall with regard to my job security, and had no choice but to pour everything I had into trying to save my job, but to no avail; the choice had already been made — In Minneapolis, not in Nashville.

At any rate I set the blog upgrade on the shelf. Now, a year later and four months since the axe fell on my neck at The Company, I'm re-evaluating the potential role my blog might take for me professionally as well as personally, and I'm highly motivated to get it going again for a number of reasons.

I'll be switching to a similar, but more effective 3-column Blogger template here very soon, with a few (if not all) of the upgraded elements to be incorporated soon thereafter.

A Tarnished Halo
However, my first priority will be to save perhaps the most precious of elements from being lost forever: my comments.

I'll have a LOT more to say about this in a future post, but I know I'm not alone in my frustration over the demise of HaloScan, the erstwhile commenting system that was the first 3rd party service of its kind to gain a strong following among early Blogspot bloggers.

A few years ago, HaloScan was rather quietly acquired by applications developer JS-Kit. Not much was made of it until the past year or so, as the new owner prepared to roll out their own commenting product to replace the sun-setted HaloScan (a fact that while not completely secretive, was far from well-announced to HaloScan users).

Bottom line is, HaloScan is now dead and gone, and anyone who was using it has been being forced to 'upgrade' to the new JS-Kit product, called 'Echo' on a free one month trial. Well, my 30 days are up, and I have no intention of paying for Echo, so I'm in scramble mode, not entirely of JS-Kit's making. I shoulda done this a month ago.

Now for those who chose to always use the free version of HaloScan, this may not have been a huge deal; all they really have to lose is their comments from the past year, as HaloScan 'free' version comments disappear after one year anyway. So chances are, those folks weren't all that concerned about it.

However, if you're like me, and paid the $25 to become a premium HaloScan user to supposedly retain your comments 'forever,' you're kinda scrambling right now — like me — to figure out how to keep from losing the links to all those wonderful conversations you had with your readers over the years. And in my case, we're talkin' nearly SIX YEARS worth.

Therefore I am now in the process of porting my blog's comment system over to DISQUS, which is a supplemental system I've had an account with for years as well. It's a very good system, and has grown exponentially in popularity in recent years as the default commenting tool for Tumbl'r micro-blogs.

All that to say, if you see some weirdness going on over here, or some sidebar elements missing, or u-gigaly fonts on dispaly as you visit over the next day or two, it's just me tinkering and re-installing stuff. Hopefully by this weekend it'll all be in place (for the most part, anyway).

And most hopefully, I will have found a way to reintegrate my old HaloScan comments back into DISQUS, and the conversations we've enjoyed since May 22, 2004 can indeed live on.

Thank you for your indulgence...and don't forget your surgical mask...

:)


* * * * *


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Olympic Chillin’ @ O’Chuck’s

Sometimes ya can’t measure a ‘good time’ in 140 characters or less.
This is gonna be relatively short, and I'm duping this post here on my personal site as well as my hockey blog for a couple reasons; one: I just have to make mention of it, and two: I’m simul-posting to AYBABTU because it has as much to do with my personal life as it does hockey.

Sunday night the Nashville Predators hosted another ‘Chill-Out’ Party at O’Charley’s restaurant in Franklin, TN. The occasion was of course the much-anticipated heavyweight Men’s Hockey bout between the USA and Canada at the Winter Olympics in Vancouver.


_{“I WENT TO A HOCKEY VIEWING AND A BLIZZARD BROKE OUT.” No, not really; there really was a game on the big screen TeeVee and much hoopin’ hollarin’ and carryin’ on ensued. A disk jockey from 107.5 The River (center) works the crowd.}

Not only was it a meeting of the only two remaining undefeateds in the ‘Group A’ division, as well as a natural blockbuster- must-see match-up by virtue of the natural rivalry between the Americans and their neighbors to the north, the game also featured the local attraction of the Preds’ top defensive pairing of Ryan Suter for the US and Shea Weber for Canada going head-to-head.

To the delight of the packed-house, ‛Sutes’ came out on top.

In a wildly competitive affair, the Americans defeated Canada 5-3, weathering a furious second period shooting storm from their opponents in the first period, then dialed up the intensity to match them in second, and shut them ‛em down in the final stanza, stunning the Canadian Dream Team going away.

If you want a further description of how the game unfolded, I'd invite you to visit my friends, On the Forecheck or Preds on the Glass; they do a much better job of that stuff than I do. Just wait until you’re finished reading here first, aiiight?

The only other thing I'll tell you about the game was that on the USA’s fifth and final goal (an empty-netter by Vancouver Canucks forward, Ryan Kesler), I had the pleasure of leading the room in a rousing chant of, “WE GOT FROS-TIES (clap-clap-clapclapclap), WE GOT FROS-TIES (clap-clap-clapclapclap),” etc.

Yeah I was loud. I was yellin’ at that big screen just as if I was in my own living room and all the people around me were my welcome guests. And the great thing about it was that I’m sure that everyone in that room felt exactly the same way.

What a great group of hockey fans we have here in Nashville! I know, I know, there are great fans all across the NHL, but if anyone anywhere wants to even THINK that Nashville isn’t a vibrant, enthusiastic, knowledgeable hockey market, they would be wrong; dead wrong.

As great as the game was, the party was even better. Gnash was there, as were the Predators EquiplinQ (and no, that’s not a typo), issuing Predators swag to all. Nashville FM radio station 107.5 The River did a great job hosting the prize giveaways during the first intermission (I won a $25 O’Charley’s gift card!). It was loud and raucous and fun.

And as great as the game and the party and the festive feeling that everyone shared, the thing that made it all so great for me were the human connections I made there.

Twitter is great because of the way it diffuses our natural guardedness; it gives us a sense of security to more-or-less be ourselves in a mass group circumstance in a way we most likely wouldn’t if we were in the same situation meeting that same group of people face-to-face.

Heh — let’s be real here. If we were all meeting as many folks as we generally communicate with on Twitter in a real-life sitch, heck, we probably wouldn’t even be heard, for all the people in the room. However, as it is, with Twitter we have the opportunity to be real with the whole Twitterverse on a one-to-one basis.

Given that easy familiarity, it makes expanding those connections even easier when we meet these ‛friends’ in real life.

Seeing Puck City (for the first time)
When I arrived at the viewing party, the room was already filled with hockey fans just buzzing about the game that was soon to start; no seats to be had anywhere. I looked round for familiar faces and thought a few of them registered, but none strongly on the AJ Friend-O-Meter. The waitress who deftly handled the entire room of 50-6o people (which is only a wild guess on my part, there may well have been more than that) was standing nearby taking drink orders from an adjacent table when I decided to be assertive and ask if it would be possible to get more chairs to accommodate myself and the three or four other folks standing there in the door near me.

She politely suggested I go ask the hostess, which made sense. But as I began to duck out of the room to go up front in search of my question's answer, someone called out my name, “Hey, AJ, wait!”

I did a slight double-take in the 3-4 feet in the space of the I had traveled and stuck my head back into the room. “Who said that?” I asked. “Did someone call me?”

The gentleman in the near booth to my right turned to say, “Yeah, it was me. We have a room in the booth if you wanna sit here.”

The man was sitting next to a young woman and another guy across from her, but the seat directly adjacent to his was unoccupied. Of course I enthusiastically accepted his offer. “THANKS!” I exclaimed. As I scanned the faces of he and his party I was trying to figure out the connection, but couldn’t. “How is it you know me?” I asked, sliding my hiney into the booth.

“J.K. Robbins...See Puck City.” And immediately the lightbulb came on. “AH! At last we meet,” I said, beaming.

I was thrilled to meet one of the few remaining Preds bloggers I had yet to run into at one of these Tweetup/Meetup events. J.K. started his Predators blog about the same time as I did mine. We hadn’t met, but I’d commented a few times on his blog, SeePuckCity. He introduced me to his friends, all roomates: the lovely SPC Steph, who co-authors the blog on occasion to his right; Jamie, the gentleman to my left.

Left to depend on the kindness of strangers once again, my new friends came through, big time. We spent the remaining 15-20 minutes before game time about Twitter, the Preds, and our mutual Nashville blog network buddies and acquaintances, and then shared the game together with the rest of the room as if we’d been tight for years.


_{CHILLIN AT THE CHILL-OUT. Left to right: AJ, Jamie, SPC Steph, & fellow Preds Blogger, J.K. Robbins of See Puck City.}

J.K. Robbins is a funny dood. He has a sharp wit (see his version of the viewing party and note his superb snideity in how he describes the EquiplinQ dancers — and BTW, if you’ve never heard one of their radio commercials, you won’t get it; but if you have...brilliant!) that comes across in his writing, but is especially entertaining in person. I knew nothing about him prior to Sunday, save that he was a Preds fan and a smart writer. Now I know enough to know that he’s also a guy I wouldn’t mind hanging out with from time to time.

But I’m gonna stop short of sending a corsage and asking him to the prom...just in case my wife is reading this.

Seriously though, it's refreshing to know that as isolated as we can sometimes make ourselves in social media, all the while convincing ourselves we’re really ‘connected’ because we chat with possibly thousands of peeps each day on Twitter, it’s still that human experience that completes the effect.

If you’ve never attended a Tweetup, you should. You really don’t know what you’re missing.

If you’re a Predators fan and have never attended a Preds Tweetup or other fan event, Gnash will officially come to your house to terrorize your dog.

All the calories, none of the ‘G’
Oh, and speaking of terror, buddy, you don’t know what skeered is until you’ve received the stink-eye from our favorite repelling feline.


_{GNASH WAS EVERYWHERE; the cat couldn’t stand still. He was so active I couldn’t even get a clear picture…geeze.}

Just when I was thinking we were old pals, at one point during the second period of the USA/Canada game, during an especially furious onslaught of Canadian shots on U.S. Goal-keep, the Buffalo Sabres, Ryan Miller, two Americans were trying to wrest the puck from Columbus Bluejackets All-Star forward (and the BJ we most love to hate), Rick Nash.

I shouted out instinctively, “KILL NASH!”

Now if I’d said that on Twitter, there wouldn’t have been a problem. However Gnash, who was standing about six feet to my left couldn’t see the lack of ‘G’ in my real-life ‘tweet’ (and if you knew what my actual speaking voice sounded like you’d appreciate that little euphemism a whole lot more), and...well, let’s just say, I doubt I’ll be on the Big Kitty’s Christmas Card list this year.

But phonetic disparities aside, a great time was had by all.

Reconnects
As an added bonus in the human contact area, I had a chance to spend some time with a couple of great Preds fans I had actually met briefly in person at a recent Preds game, as well as a former co-worker I hadn’t seen for months.

Shelly, her husband and her daughter Raven actually sat in the seats just to the right of ours in Section 329. At the time, we exchanged pleasantries, but never introduced ourselves. But when they walked into the viewing room Sunday night, I recognized them immediately. However I didn't know if they remembered me. We made eye contact a few times, and they gave a look as though they thought I looked familiar, but just couldn't make the connection.

After the game, as I was leaving, I sought them out to say hi assure them that I didn’t have a chain saw and chloroform in my trunk.

I reminded them of where we’d met and we had a great conversation. I discovered that they too are on Twitter, so if you want to follow a fantastic and fun Mom-Daughter Preds fan duo, be sure to visit @dont_puck_it_up (Shelly) and goalies_are_hot (Raven).


_{MY FRIEND, @christinewhite just HATES to have her picture taken…yup…that’s what she told me…just before she said, “Don’t make me sing…”}

My former co-worker, Christine, is one of my longest-standing fellow Preds fans. We worked together forever at The Company — she still does — and I hadn’t seen her since well before I was laid off in November. Chris is another fun and bright individual worth a follow on Twitter (@christinewhite).

All in all it was one of the better Preds outings I’d been to. I hope you’ll make it out to the Gold Medal Party February 28th at Bleachers Sports Grill, also in Franklin, which promises to be an awesome time as well.

Who knows, maybe we’ll be celebrating a U.S. Olympic Gold! And you know, there’s no better people to celebrate with than REAL people.


* * * * *


finis

A Puppy Drama (Act I of II)

A Tough Act To Follow
In my mind, nothing could ever replace our dog Squirty, whose one-year death day anniversary is a little more than two weeks from now.

She was our baby after our real babies had reached middle school age. She was total joy over a period of time that we desperately needed it in our lives. She filled a niche that my wife Michelle had for nurturing, and that all the rest of the family had for unconditional love.

She was an awesome dog; smart as a whip; never chewed up our furniture, clothes, papers, or anything other than the rawhide chew toys we placed before her. She was easy to house-train, and with the notable exception of her last few weeks of life, never soiled our living space that I can ever recall.

However, partially due to her really being ‘Michelle’s dog,’ and partially because I was always working, I missed out on a lot of the fun in Squirty’s puppy stage of development.

In fact, I really should back up a bit and admit that I really don’t remember much about Squirty’s tendencies early on, or how long she actually took us to housebreak; and I don’t really recall to what extent she may have had a penchant for biting fingers and other objects while she was teething. However, I do know how good and easy a pet she turned out to be. I simply can’t imagine a pooch being any better-behaved.

That’s one reason why I was somewhat reluctant for us to get another dog. I just knew that we could never be that lucky twice in a row.

But guess what? We’ve got a new dog.

Her name is ‘Izzy’…and ‘Tazzi’…and ‘Sophie’…and ‘Doggie,’ in reverse order. In the three weeks since she first entered our home, each of those names has been a story unto itself.



Doggie
Three weeks ago this past Sunday, I was minding my own business, reading the paper when Michelle looks over at me with a wry smile on her face.

“You know I’ve been thinking,” she said, followed by a pregnant pause that I’ve come to realize usually means more than simply catching her breath.

“My Mom is really lonely right now, and Christmas is going to be hard on her without Dad. I was thinking about getting her a dog. What do you think?”

I stammered my halfhearted approval, not really considering the implications of such a suggestion. “Sure,” I asked, “But what kind?”

She showed me an ad in the Sunday Tennessean, advertising Toy Fox Terriers from a breeder in Dixon, Tennessee, which — interestingly enough, I thought — was the very same town our previous breeder operated out of.

Could this be the same guy?

We had actually been trying to keep loose tabs on the breeder we used previously, a gentleman named Ron Hunt, as over the years we continually fielded inquiries from folks about Squirty; what breed she was, where we got her, et al.

However, we had lost touch with Mr. Hunt several years earlier and had assumed he’d simply retired or moved away. If for no other reason than to satisfy her curiosity about the breeder’s identity, I told her I thought she should call and check it out

Squirty’s litter-mate, whom Michelle’s parents had picked out at the same time back in July of 1993, had passed away a little more than a year earlier than her sister. And with the additional loss of her husband last June, life was becoming increasingly solitary for Michelle’s Mom, who had never been alone in her entire life. She needed some companionship. I fully supported the idea of getting her a puppy for Christmas. We thought it would be the perfect gift.

And after Michelle contacted the breeder by phone that Sunday morning, we were convinced that it was meant to be.

Turns out, the breeder’s name was Edwin Overhill. When asked if he knew Mr. Hunt, the man replied, “Sure I know him. He’s worked for me off and on for years.”

Mr. Hunt, we would learn, had indeed retired from dog breeding, but still worked for Overhill at his primary business, a used car dealership in Dixon. Overhill had actually taken on Hunts’ dogs when he stepped away from the business.

So, it was entirely possible that the breeding line that produced Squirty and her parents’ dog may well still be active in those that Overhill is breeding today.

The breeding lineage and connection to Mr. Hunt all seemed much too great a coincidence to be arbitrary. Surely this was meant to be.

Or was it?

We immediately went out to see the last recently-born-yet-unspoken-for female puppy that Mr. Overhill would have available before Christmas.

She was stinky and cuddly and adorable. We were both smitten with a capital ‘S’. We just knew Michelle’s mom would feel the same way. We took the eleven week-old pup home with us that afternoon.

What we (or, more specifically, what ‘I’) didn’t know was what a challenge it would be to keep her — not to mention, keep her a secret — for the remaining ten days until the Christmas Day.

And one other thing — what the heck do we call her? I certainly didn’t want to have her getting used to any name other than what Michelle’s Mom would eventually give her, but at the same time, I had to get her attention somehow. So I just stuck with ‘Doggie’ as it was both neutral and something that rolled off my tongue anyway, since it had been the endearing nickname I had called Squirty her entire life.

I also didn’t realize how tough it would be to housetrain the little munchkin. Like I said earlier, I really wasn’t in on that part of the deal with Squirters. If she was any more difficult than this one in that department I certainly don’t remember it.

However, to my chagrin, Doggie would not be a willing participant in the ‘Let’s Relieve Ourselves Out in the Cold’ club. She would do fine so long as we’d been holding her and then took her out periodically after she’d been sleeping. But several other times, left to her own devices, she would squat indiscriminately all over the house. This was particularly frustrating if it was really cold outside, as she wanted no part of eliminating in the harsh elements, and would refuse to ‘do her business’ when requested, only to do so indoors usually just minutes later, after coming back into the nice warm house.

Part of me was preaching patience to the other part of me that was cursing my wife for suggesting the idea of getting her Mom this dog in the first place. But then frustrated AJ would remember, “it’s just for a few more days, then it’ll be over.”

Cynical, right? Heartless; selfish? Guilty as charged, your honor, but with explanation.

See, I’m currently unemployed. However I do have a big freelance project that I’m STILL trying to finish, so that I can turn my attention to finding another full-time gig.

Not only did having a puppy quite necessarily strapped to my lap keep me from getting any serious work done, it also kept me from dealing with an even more pressing issue.

Thanksgiving Morning, my main desktop computer died. At the time I thought it was a bad motherboard, so I immediately ordered a new one. Well, if you’ve ever replaced a mobo, you know what comes next (for me, anyway) — hours of installing, usually with a certain amount of troubleshooting when things don’t go as planned. And of course, things did not go as planned.

When I reinstalled the mobo, I got nothin.’ No activity of any kind. Was it a bad power supply? Was it something that was causing an electrical short? I won’t go into the minutiae of what gyrations I had to go through to nail down the problem, but suffice it to say, it was a time consuming process — one that was impossible to engage while trying to keep a precocious puppy dog from chewing through the computer’s power cables.

I ended up delaying getting my main computer up and running in favor of attempting to do the work on my laptop, which has most of the same software as my main box, but only about a third of the RAM memory, hard drive capacity, and processor speed.

The work came along, but at a much slower pace than I needed it to in order for me to accomplish my activity goals.

Bottom line, I was really anxious for Christmas, not so I could get presents, but so I could get rid of one.

Sophie
Now again, lest you think of me as some hard-hearted beast, let me just say that I loved that dog. She absolutely melted my heart on a daily basis. If I had been smart, I would have simply locked her up in our master bathroom with her bed and toys, and proceeded on downstairs to work. Trouble was, we really did want to try and have her at least partially potty-trained before giving her to MIL for Christmas. But in reality I just couldn’t bare the thought of her being cooped up in another room while I was in the house. There was a true love-hate thing going on within me. I wished this little dog wasn’t always there underfoot, but in truth, I just couldn’t stand the thought of her being anywhere else.

However, now well into her fourth month of life, she was becoming much more of a handful. Instead of sleeping six hours during the day, she now seemed alert and wanting to play all the time, and when playing didn’t mean chewing on and/or biting her toys, it meant chewing my fingers and nipping at the hem of my pants every time I walked across the room.

She had also now found her voice, and began to treat us to both her impish, high-pitched, yet (thankfully) low-volume bark as well as her aggressive, yet incredibly cute, gurgley little growl during physical play.

When the time came for MIL to receive her gift, everything seemed to be going according to plan. Michelle presented Doggie to her Mom on Christmas Eve. She was immediately dubbed ‘Sophie,’ as MIL had already picked out a name in the event she would ever get another pooch.

Over the following two days before she left for home, MIL and Sophie were inseparable, and everyone felt great about the way it had all come together.

However, in the back of my mind, I had a feeling that the marriage was far from perfect. Michelle’s Mom is almost exactly fifteen-and-a-half years removed from the puppy-raising experience; after what I had gone through with the little critter, I was pretty sure that this time wouldn’t be quite as easy as the last one was.

Next: Meet Tazzie (that’s short for Tasmanian Devil)