Crazy Talk and Sometimes Socks
When we were younger, my older brother hated to go fishing with me. Nonetheless, two or three times every summer, we'd go together anyway. Of course, we'd inevitably choose the most sweltering day of the year, when eggs fried in their shells long before they even got close to the sidewalk. So with our too-shaggy … Continue reading Gone fishin’ with the boys
"I want it to be like a tank," he said, face alight with eight year-old glee. "And I want to paint it with camo." A tank. My son, Mini-Me, held a rectangular block of pine in his hands, undoubtedly envisioning his combat-ready pinewood derby racer as it screamed down the track, blasting opponents out of … Continue reading Dreams, determination, and the Pinewood Derby Tank
Rule One was to just breathe normally. Rule Two was to remember to have fun. For something as complicated as S.C.U.B.A*, with all the hoses and gauges and that big, heavy tank, you'd expect maybe a few more rules than that. Like an entire rulebook that reads like stereo instructions or at least one of … Continue reading Living underwater, every day
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