I went to get my haircut today.

I kept putting it off, and putting it off some more, as is my custom. But that's a different blog post.

My barber today was Erin. We got to talking, and at one point she asked, "So, are you from around here?"

In my experience, most people in Bellingham aren't originally from Bellingham. It didn't register as odd question in the least.

"I'm originally from Michigan..."

And before I could finish my standard response ("... and I moved out here after college for a job..."), Erin says, "I thought I you might be from the Midwest. I'm from Minnesota."

There's a Midwestern vibe. Who knew?

An ideal water experience for me is when I find myself sitting on a quiet, unoccupied Lake Michigan beach listening to the water snap and fizz as the sun sets over the waves. Or standing on a bluff at West Beach on Whidbey Island while a winter storm comes ashore--the water slams the rocks down below with thundering crashes, and the spray fills the air and dampens everything you thought was still dry.

The calm and power of the sea... both things I crave.

From shore.

I’m not really a water guy. Never have been. I rarely hang out on your typical beach. I’m not even sure I could swim if I had to. It’s not something I learned to do well and/or at all. (Reason #17 why I’m suited to computers. But I digress.)

The weather this past Sunday afternoon was perfect: Sunny, high clouds (if any), 72 degrees. After the Sunday morning service (Today’s you-should-know-this-already-but-you-always-need-a-reminder message is from Phil 2:3-10: It’s not about you; It’s about Jesus), Fosteronomo and family invited me to meet them at Lake Whatcom for a sail.

After Cap’n Dan’s wife and kids got some sailing time in, they headed home for naps and left two old (are we that old?) friends to keel, come about, tack, and move that thing... and the other thing. We'd been out 30 minutes or so when he placed his own life in my hands by giving me the helm. I must have been fiddling with the rudder and stuff (he's the sailing genius, not me) for next 20-ish minutes. I even maneuvered us hard alee a couple times. “Jibing would be our best chance of getting wet,” said Dan, lounging at the bow.

We didn’t have too much wind, and that suited me just fine. Being out in the middle of the water in what amounts to a shallow, masted, fiberglass bathtub is a far, far, different experience than sitting on dry ground near the water’s edge. And I don’t mean that in a negative way... it really is a great thing. What a kick. I can see why people like it.

Justin, Tim, Ben and I did our first ever international disc golf tour on Saturday. It made for a long day, but, as the kids used to say, it was way cool.

We left before 8 am. On a Saturday. That’s all I’ll say about that.

Our first stop was the Little Mountain 9-hole course at Queen Elizabeth Park in Vancouver, B.C. Justin won the course by 2 strokes; Ben held on to Tim’s belt as Tim fished his disc out of the duck pond. I was doing well until the 8th hole when I threw the disc into the only real hazard on that hole—a 10-foot wide wall of cedar bushes that I nailed smack in the middle. For the rest of the day I was extracting my disc from trees.

The next stop was Tim Horton’s. They didn’t take Visa. Weird.

The next disc golf stop was Passive Park in Langley, B.C. It’s an 18-hole course with lots of brush, thick trees, and blind lines of sight. Justin and I tried this course a few weeks ago, and I lost my (then only) disc on the 14th hole. We all put $5 on the line for this tour, and it was obviously all Justin’s by the end of this round.

Next stop: U.S.-Canada Border. The digital read-out on the approach to the Pacific Highway truck crossing estimated the wait time at 50 minutes. Peach Arch’s estimate was 120 minutes, so we took our chances. Our actual time was closer to 75 minutes. Sure, it was a nice and sunny day and everything, but seriously, don’t any Canadians ever want to stay in Canada? (Jacquie says, “we are a people with cabin fever at all times.” I guess that explains that... now what about those funny accents?)

The last stop on our tour was our ‘home’ 9-hole course at Cornwall Park in Bellingham. Tim confidently says, “This is my home” just before launching his first disc 10 feet into a tree. “Welcome home,” I say. Both Ben and Justin parred this course; I stopped keeping track of my overall score, except that I knew that I had last place wrapped up midway through Passive Park.

Final Finish: Justin (+6), Tim (+10), Ben (+16), James (+22).

Yep, I got my disc handed to me. Despite that, I’m hooked. See you on the course.

I just received a Happy Birthday reminder [template pdf] from the State of Washington Department of Licensing which contains the following bits of text:

... renewing on-line [sic] lets you skip the trip, the traffic, and the wait in line. ... you can pay with a credit card or debit card!

They care how I use my time and that I should use it wisely? Convenience, ease, and on my schedule? Sweet! The Internet is great for this kind of stuff.

The censors from the State of Washington Department of Removing All Personality from Government must have been sniffing too many Sharpie^(R) fumes one day and let the following attitude-filled line slip out:

If you prefer the trip, the traffic, and the wait in line, you can still renew in person. ...

 

Bright morning, clean clothes, gotta get to work... Got a late start, need a drive-through breakfast... #4 with a coffee, please...

Five minutes later, still driving, as I'm relaxing after a sip, I notice some of the precious liquid dripping off the side.

I see coffee marks in prominent places on my (clean) shirt and (clean) pants. On my way to work, no less. At least I was able to shake off the breakfast biscuit crumbs.

This is what I get for not riding my bicycle.

[Update 10:09am: Fixed spelling.]

You figure every girl is beautiful, you know. It’s our arrogance that makes us think one is better than the other. ... I was thinking about girls the other day and wondering, you know, why some girls just get ignored and others get worshipped, and I really got this feeling in my chest like all of that wasn’t true. Can’t be true. Doesn’t make sense. Like maybe if you can’t love a girl who isn’t all perfect, then you can’t really love a girl who is. Not for real. Not unconditionally.

What Donald Miller's travel buddy Paul said, as recorded in Through Painted Deserts (page 42).

http://www.piratejokes.net -- Not always funny (it probably helps with a bit of grog), and not the only place to find 'em. But it's a great way to annoy your very hard(ly) working co-workers.

Mr. T likes the double shot espresso -- hat tip: Raymond Chen (from here).

Pictures of cats with stuff on them.

I live in Washington, but I’m from Michigan. I do often enjoy games for the sake of the game, but I will always root for, and have strong support for, the Tigers, Lions, Red Wings, and Wolverines. (In my mind, pro basketball stinks.)

As a Tigers fan, this year is much more fun, seeing has how they can win and everything.

I went to see the game Friday with one friend’s church group (Tigers win!) and then again Saturday with another friend’s church group (Tigers win again!). I even bought a cap for the second game. Being tired, slightly under the weather, and running out of church groups, I passed on the third game (when the Mariners finally win). Now, at the All-Star break, the Tigers have the best record in baseball.

This year’s success is exciting, sure, but it’s hard to forget the recent past: 12 consecutive years with a losing record; poor players; bad management. Everyone thought that when Mike Illich (the Little Ceaser’s Pizza guy who also owns the Red Wings) bought the team from Tom Monahan (the Dominoes Pizza guy) Tiger Stadium would be saved and the Tigers would return to their 1945/1968/1984/1987 glory. Eventually, the Tigers moved to Comerica Park and routinely lost games. And Tiger Stadium is now slated for demolition.

I have some very strong memories about the Tigers from when I was young. My first memories were from 1983 when the Tigers made a run at the end of the season, but finished in second place in the Eastern Division. That late-season streak foreshadowed the events of the following year.

It was 1984, and I was in Mrs. Greene’s fourth grade class. Those were the days of Chet Lemon, Sweet Lou Whitaker, Alan Trammell, Lance Parish, Kirk Gibson, Darrell Evans, Larry Herndon, Tom Brookens, Dave Bergman, Jack Morris, Dan Petry, Milt Wilcox, Willie (Guillermo) Hernandez, Roger Craig, Sparky Anderson. The list goes on, but these are the names I remember. :) George Kell and Al Kaline did the TV play-by-play and color commentary, respectively; Ernie Harwell and Paul Carey were the radio guys. Ernie Harwell says, "There's a looong fly ball, deep... and that ball is.... looooooong gone!"

The Tigers started 35-5 (and then departed Seattle 35-8). Jack Morris threw a no-hitter on national television against the White Sox the first Saturday of the season. In about the 6th or 7th inning, he walked the bases loaded, got a 1-2-3 double play, and then a strikeout (or something) to close that inning. I was pumped.

The Tigers owned the Eastern Division that year--they pretty much had it wrapped up by the All-Star break and clinched in early September (I think). They beat the Royals in the ALCS to win the American League Pennant, and then went on to win the World Series by defeating the Padres in 5 games, losing only the second game.  Alan Trammell was awarded the World Series MVP.

That was also the first year I went to see a Tigers game in person. Much of my mom’s extended family banded together to go see a game August 20, 1984. I saved that ticket stub for-stinkin’-ever. Jack Morris was the starting pitcher, and the Tigers totally smoked the Oakland A’s 14-1 (the A’s only run coming on a wild pitch). We sat in the upper deck at Tigers Stadium along the third base line looking at left field. At one point, there were 3 waves circulating the upper deck at once.

More random memories about the event: We caravanned from Ionia to Detroit and stopped to eat in Brighton. As I recall, that was also when McDonald’s Chicken McNuggets was a new product. I think I got a 6-piece.

 [update 12:10 pm: fixed spelling. Sorry, Larry!]