Horace Is Home

We're still getting settled into the new house in Horace, ND, but we're having a great time doing it. We've finished up most of the outdoor projects just in time for the weather to start cooling off. All that's left is a little bit of weeding and trimming. The indoor projects are another matter.

In the meantime, the leaves are starting to turn so I thought it was the perfect time to take some pictures...

A view from the driveway

Brink Drive

A view of the dining room. You might notice a familiar couple on the wall...

The lounge area

A view from next to the shed

The backyard

A few of our beautiful trees

Trees along the grassy area on the west side of the house

View from the northeast corner of the property

Grove along the north side of the property

MJ's room is the first one we've finished redecorating. She designed the whole thing.
Instead of a traditional closet, she has a wall of cabinets and drawers.
 

Another view of MJ's room

A view of my playroom. Needs some redecorating...

The living room. We're still in the middle of decorating.

My other playroom. Tbe green will be going eventually.

Wedding Diaries: Pictures

I'll update this post with interesting pictures as I get them. As always, click to enlarge...


UPDATE: Here are a few courtesy of Rob Wagner:

This first batch is courtesy of Tim Nolan:

Wedding Diaries: The Final Report

The big day has come and gone. Everything went incredibly well, far better than we had any right to expect. The weather was perfect. There weren't any glitches worth mentioning. The food was great. The cake was incredible. The guys looked sharp and the gals looked amazing. The band rocked the roof off the place. It was perfect.

Things started on Thursday with rehearsal and dinner. We picked Grazie's in Fargo, an Italian place. The food was wonderful and even my brother Andy -- who isn't high on Italian -- was impressed.

My niece Aubrey.

The meeting of the Winkis and Marshall clans. It is hoped
our union will bring an end to decades of war.

OFF THE MARKET

Friday was bachelor's and bachelorette's night out. Not together because that would defeat the purpose. The ladies went out for Mexican food while the boys went out for steaks. A huge sigh of relief came out of me when my ribeye at Redford's (formerly Norman's, home of the Best Steak I've Ever Had) lived up to the standard I've come to expect. Afterwards we went to a Buffalo Wild Wings near the hotel, one because it was close and, two because I wanted to see the manager. He bought us a round so, yeah, be sure to book BWW as your liquor caterer at you next event. Yes, I am a cheap whore. The ladies showed up and no one at all made any inappropriate remarks or did anything embarrassing so there's no need to talk about it anymore.

Saturday I actually coached MJ's soccer game. I know, I know. But I had no responsibilities until 1:00 and the game was at 9:00 AM. The family got to watch MJ play. She scored the first goal of the match and Team America won 3-2, so that was pretty perfect.

Donna had bride things to do, so MJ and I grabbed lunch and headed out to the venue. With pictures at 3:00 I began hoping that someone would show up soon with a six-pack but it was not to be. We had only one minor glitch: we didn't have MJ's bridesmaid dress. Luckily Donna's brother Ryan was volunteered to be her errand boy, so he fixed that issue.

Pictures/dressing/waiting.etc....

Donna and I are not traditional wedding types. With that in mind, we wanted the ceremony to be short and too the point. The kids marched in, Donna came down the path, the officiant said some things, we said some things, there were rings involved, someone tolled a bell, then we got the hell out of there and started to party. It was exactly what we wanted. The guy running the music and sound told me it was by far a record for shortest ceremony at their venue. I told him that I didn't want to know if anyone ever broke it.

I have some good news and some bad news. What's that? You want the good news first? Okay. The good news is that we hired Dave at Milestones Photography to do the pictures. He's the best there is at what he does, so our pictures will be amazing when we get them.

The bad news is that Shanna, a friend of Donna's, agreed to use our little point and shoot throughout the night to get us some candids. Well, that's not the bad news. The bad news is that neither of the batteries I had for that camera would hold a charge. Of course, I found this out after the wedding, so I don't really have anything to share at the moment. I've put out a call to friends and family to send all photos, but as of right this moment, I have no visual evidence that this event ever happened.

No photographic evidence anyway. I also brought my little video camera. My friend Tim did an excellent job filming the ceremony and getting some candid shots of the aftermath:










Then, of course, there was the big surprise for Donna at the reception. A special guest vocalist came to honor her with song. We had a band made up of Microsoft employees who worked incredibly hard to put on a great show for us (which they did). The twist was that the band would allow anyone to come up and sing any song in the set list. It was basically karaoke with a live band. Imagine Donna's surprise when this happened:




All in all it was tons of fun and exactly what Donna and I wanted. Quick ceremony, great food, all our friends together, a live band playing anything except traditional wedding music, and a reception that was more party than wedding dance. One of the most fun nights I've ever had.

For Once, The Camping Curse Left Me Alone

There will be blood.

Every year we go camping and every year there's a theme that emerges. Once it was angering the rain gods. Another time it involved massive blood loss. Last year it was reverse Arbor Day. So what horrible fate awaited us this year? Locusts? Fire? A chunk of the International Space Station crushing our tent?

In the end it turned out involve lots of bicycle crashes. For one, however, the curse missed me and instead splashed all over loved ones. First, MJ wiped out in some loose dirt at the campground. Thirty-four bandaids later and she was back up and riding. No broken bones or sprains, thank goodness.

The next day we went to Itasca State Park to go biking on the extensive trails there. Unfortunately, we weren't done with crashes; Donna wiped out on a hill. She escaped relatively unscathed except for a really nice scrape on her elbow. Her first thought of course was will this heal before the wedding? It will.

Other than all the mangled flesh and machinery, the weekend went really well. We had about 45 seconds of very light rain. Other than that it was perfect camping weather. We ate some food, drank some beer, stanched some wounds. It was great. I just wonder if, since the curse left me alone this year, does it mean I'm free or I get it double next year? Shudder.

During a break at Itasca.

MJ, Emily and Carly crossing the Mighty Mississippi.

A wooden walkway running parallel
to the Mississippi headwaters.

An Evening With Kinect

7:12 pm: Hey, let's play Kinect Adventures!

7:23 pm: This is fun! We should do this every night. It's great exercise.

7:28 pm: Hold on a second. I need to get a towel.

7:37 pm: *Wondering how Wild Turkey improves my reflexes*

7:41 pm: Please, no more jumping. (whimper)

7:48 pm: Pause to execute Bing search for "fastest recorded human heartbeat."

7:55 pm: ----^----^----^----^----^-----------------------------------------------

Here Fishy Fishy

I'm going to tell you a story. A story of may flies and walleyes, Animal House levels of alcohol comsumption, a steakhouse that wasn't, urination, and beginner's luck. It won't always be pretty. It might offend some of you with more delicate constitutions. Some of the language may be borderline harsh. I apologize in advance for all of this. But it's just a story.

If you look closely you can
see the kitchen sink.

It was a Monday, Memorial Day actually, when friend and coworker Bob^[1] packed up a truck and headed down to South Dakota to meet up with another friend and coworker, Jim, and his boat. When we arrived the wind was howling, causing swarms of may flies to careen into my face and, when it was open, into my mouth. Jim warned us to avoid the "patches that look like mud" on the ground, as they were actually the remains of hundreds of thousands (millions?) of may flies. Apparently there was some sort of insect turf war. I guess the may flies won, as they certainly maintained air superiority.

To all the workers who died building
this monument, rest in peace.

We loaded up the boat and headed the four hours west to our final destination: a state park in central South Dakota I later found out was known for the Great Rattlesnake Manifestation of 2009. Let me just say it's a very good thing I found this out after we were driving back to Fargo and leave it at that. Being Monday evening, the campground was almost deserted. There were maybe two other campsites occupied close enough that we could see them. We quickly made camp, starting with the giant tent Jim brought along. Once it was up and we dismissed the hundreds of day laborers we hired to help, I quickly dubbed it the "Tim Mahal". Jim. Jim Mahal.

With that it was time to mix a drink. Okay, second drink. We had one while supervising the tent workers. As unlikely as it sounds, drinking would become a recurring theme of the week. More on that later (read: shocking statistics to come). I broke out some really excellent hot dogs and cajun brats from Thielen's Meats (after having boiled the brats in beer before leaving Fargo; I'm not a barbarian). After washing those down with some Crown Royal we hit the hay, ready to hit the water early in the morning.

The next morning the wind was gusting up to 476 miles per hour. Naturally, we set out to find a bay or something we could hunker down in to fish, cause after all, what are we, girls? We got on the water and fought the wind for a couple of hours. At one point Poseidon rose from the depths of the bay and hurled a wave at us. It was 100 feet high if it was an inch. That didn't really happen. But we did get tossed around to the point that we all three simultaneously said, "f--- this, let's go back to camp and drink." So we did.

First catch of the trip.

Wednesday dawned and things looked a bit brighter. The winds were a manageable 15-20 and the sun was coming out in dribs and drabs. It was a little cold on the water, but it was welcome after our run-in with the water god the previous day. Being the rookie^[2] I needed some pointers on how to catch walleye. Apparently dragging a leech along the top of the water is not the preferred method. Huh. Anyway, Bob caught our first two fish of the day. Jim got one too, and I was feeling like an extra anchor since I hadn't gotten even a bite. Then I caught the next four fish of the day, including a 29 ^1/2 inch monster that nearly cracked the hull getting it into the boat. Good times. Oh, and we were doing "Lithuanian Shots" everytime we caught a keeper. A Lithuanian Shot is when you guzzle from a liquor bottle because (1) you don't have a shot glass and (2) you're trying to get loaded, duh. We took our limit (of fish, not booze -- that would come later).

Biggest catch of the trip.

Obviously, the first thing you want to do when you come off the water with your limit of fish is to go back to camp and fry them up. So obviously we headed to a place called Bob's Steakhouse^[3] instead. Bob's Steakhouse is the most unique steakhouse in the world in that it only has three steak entrees on its menu and all three of them are the same cut. 90% of the menu is not steak. That said, the top sirloin was pretty good and they almost managed to cook it rare for me. Seriously, no chef ever believes me when I say I want it rare. That's a post for another day though. Anyway, it was pretty good and they had a full bar there so it was fine.

As an aside, I had no idea how spiny walleye are. When you get one in the boat they lay there, all passive, until they sense you are about to touch them. Then they spring themselves into the air and all these defensive weapons in the form of spines fly out from all parts of the fish, impaling everything in site. My fingers and hands were cut to shred before I just started shooting them once I got them into the boat. If you've never seen this phenomenon, this is what it looks like:

A walleye with defensive spines deployed.

Wednesday night, more drinking, etc.

Thursday would prove to be a seminal day in the history of fishing. The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a bit of a breeze, just enough to keep the water moving  but no enough to make it difficult to navigate. We didn't catch anything like the monster from the day before, but we did catch both our limit and take three walleye over 20 inches (which was also a limit). More importantly we beat a 1.75 of Jack Daniels to death with our livers. Since the dawn of time man has yearned to destroy a 1.75 liter bottle of whiskey from within the confines of a fishing trip. Well, we did it. And we looked good doing it, too. That evening we did fry up some of our freshest catch and it was delicious.

Thursday night, more drinking, etc.

Linda's: home of the $24
six pack of Busch Lite

Friday was basically a repeat of Thursday as far as the weather and our success at catching fish. It was a bit hotter (around 82 as I recall). We didn't drink nearly as much, having suspended the "catch a fish, drink a shot" rule due to the small poles flying tiny white flags that unceremoniously thrust themselves through our torsos by our failing livers. Good time rock -n- roll! We fried up some more fish for dinner and killed off the last of our beans that night. On the way back to camp though, we decided to break our treaty with our livers and get some more booze, so we stopped in Akaska^[4] and picked up two liters of Jack. Do not ever do this. Apparently the town's sole source of revenue is the taxes it levies on alcohol. One liter of Jack in Akaska goes for $32.50. This is not a joke. I've been in three card monte games that didn't rip me off this badly. Of course, this didn't stop us from paying.

Saturday was our last day on the water, so we wanted to make it count. To show you how serious we were, we only packed beer on the boat this time. Yeah, I know, right? Like I said: serious. Now, when I say "beer", I mean Coors Lite, which is to beer as reality TV is to reality. That is to say, it bears no relation. But canned beer was the logical choice to take camping and boating, and when I'm going to drink cheap beer I want it to taste as much like water as possible. Thus, the Coors Lite. Seriously. Drink a Fat Tire or a Rogue Dead Guy and follow it up with one of these. I dare you to tell the difference between Coors Lite and bottled water. Anyway, we brought 48 of these and were down to our last 20 or so. In the cooler they went. They would not return.

We caught one short of our limit, and only one over 20 inches, so it wasn't our best day of fishing. That's not to say it was bad. Jim did an awesome job of finding the spots where they were biting and keeping us over them, so after being frustrated most of the day we started hitting late. On the way back to shore we discussed the liquor situation, which at that point was dire. We had a 1/2 bottle of $32.50 Jack at camp. We had exhausted the beer. So, yeah, we went back to Linda's and bought a liter of Crown Royal. It was the right decision.

Remember the fallen.
 (Not pictured, 48 cans of beer.)

That night we finished off the dogs and brats, supplementing it with a little bit more fish. We also killed off all the booze. Our liquor bottle population was decimated at this point. It was like we committed whiskey genocide or something. Heck, I haven't even mentioned the words "Jim Beam", because he was with us for so brief a time. He was there and gone like leaf in the wind. The next day I gathered the bodies. They were stacked like cordwood, having given their lives to shorten ours.

Sunday dawned and we packed up, tired but a little sad to be going. It was a great trip, and I give my eternal thanks to Jim and Bob for inviting me. I hope I acquitted myself well. If not, at least I got to drink a lot. I learned quite a few things on the trip and have memories to last a lifetime. Some things I'll never forget:

"I like your outfit."
"Hey, I caught a rock!"
"I like a fat wiener in the ash."
"What just fell in the water?"
"You're interesting to talk to."
"Hey, I caught another rock!"
"I'm becoming a Crown bigot."
"I have to write this s--- down."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
^[1] Names have been changed to protect the intoxicated.

^[2] I've been fishing plenty of times before, but my only experience walleye fishing involved catching every other type of fish other than a walleye, up to and including giant squid.

^[3] No relation to the Bob on our trip, which isn't even his real name anyway. Are you paying attention?

^[4] Town motto: 'It's like Alaska with an extra K!'


For all the pictures you didn't see here, check out the online photo album.

Two Lovely Butterflies At A Ball

Last night was the 2011 Butterfly Ball, where fathers and daughters get to dress up and get down with their bad selves to music that the fathers have never heard of. This year we had an extra belle -- a Bella, actually. Our friends Kris and Sunnylet me take their daughter Bella to the ball, as Kris had a prior engagement and couldn't go. So Sunny and Bella came up from the Twin Cities for the weekend. While Donna and Sunny went to dinner at Toscana (mmm... Toscana), MJ^[*], Bella and I danced the night away at the Crystal Ballroom at the Ramada and gorged ourselves on the cheesecake bar.

Check out those heels.

 

^[*] Did I mention that she wants to be called "MJ" now?

The Wedding Diaries (Part 3): Engagement Photos!

We got our engagement proofs from Milestones Photography and you can view a few selections on our wedding site. Here's a sneak peak:

The Wedding Diaries (Part 2): Outsourcing

I intend to blog here about all the stupid/crazy/maddening/interesting/fun things that happen on the road to making this wedding come off.  However, in the interest of making things easier for all our friends/family/potential guests, I thought it would be a good idea to have a central clearinghouse for wedding-related information.  With that in mind I have created a website that will be used to communicate useful and important tidbits like who is doing the flowers, what's on the menu, whether we decide to go with black-tie or a beach theme for the ceremony, etc.

Check there for the bricks and stones that make up the latest wedding related news.  Keep reading here for all the mortar that both holds those bricks together and makes building the house interesting.

The Wedding Diaries (Part I): In Which A Date Is Selected

As you may be aware, there are impending nuptials in the new year.  No, not Prince William and Kate Middleton.  No, not whoever Jennifer Aniston is trying to marry this week.  I'm talking about the other big wedding slated for 2011: Donna and I.

A lot goes into a wedding, even one which is, as compared to some, a relatively simple affair.  Cakes, dresses, flowers, food, guest lists, invitations, music, not to mention a budget to rein all this in.  But the one thing that must be sorted out first, the decision from which all other decisions must flow, is a date.  This necessarily means picking a venue.

We had a few places on our list, through it got whittled down fast.  One place is already booked for the dates we wanted (and backed up with a long waitlist for each date) despite our being told that bookings couldn't be taken until January 1st.  This means that either hundreds of people started dialling the phone at midnight as the ball dropped, or this place is full of crap and lets "special people" (read: friends) book whenever they want and tells other people to go screw themselves.

At any rate, it has come to pass that our public shackling special day will be...

Saturday, September 24th 2011 at a friend's house.  (Cue trumpets)

Oh, I should also point out that "a friend's house" is actually "A Friend's House", a rentable venue for such events, and not someone's back yard.  It's a beautiful place with a little church that apparently gets around more than I do.  Check out the website to get the historical info.

This venue has everything we wanted: an outdoor option (with the ability to take it indoors if necessary), a large play area for kids, the ability to host a barn dance, plenty of parking.  The only drawback we saw was its location; it's not exactly in the heart of downtown Fargo.  Oh well, you can't have everything I guess.

Anyway, anouncements will be going out in the next couple of months, and I'll be adding posts here as the planning progresses.  We already have a few other decisions made, but I'll keep those for another day.

The More Things Change

I was six years old when Star Wars came out.  My parents took my younger brother and I to see it one evening not too long after its release.  From the opening sequence where Princess Leia's little space Prius was being chased by Darth Vader's gargantuan star destroyer -- resplendent in gun metal gray like a Hummer in a chop shop -- I knew, knew it was the greatest thing that had ever been or would ever be.  From that moment on Star Wars was stitched into every fiber of my being.  I remember watching the local PBS station, which was barely recognizable through the static on the poorly-aimed antenna that perched on our roof, because it was airing some segment on some show brought to you by the Chubb Group that was showing footage of the escape from the Death Star and the subsequent space battle.  Great shot kid!  Don't get cocky.



He even bought C-3PO's.



The next several years would be dedicated to getting every Star Wars related toy in the universe.  Between my brother and I, we came as close to accomplishing that goal as anyone who wouldn't serve as inspiration for Comic Book Guy ever did.



Years later we outgrew the toys of course.  We later staged grand battles in the back yard, setting up the models and ships and playsets and action figures in vast battle lines and pitting plucky rebellion against evil empire.  Casualties were counted and victors declared.  The rules of engagement were simple: if you got knocked over by the pellets we were firing from the back porch you were dead.  Sorry Luke.  Later stormtrooper #4.  How desperate is the rebellion?  The medical droid from The Empire Strikes Back just took a slug to the sternum.  Why is he on the front line?

I know what you're thinking.  In our defense we had no idea how much this stuff would be worth today.  I could have retired ten years ago if I had had the foresight to keep this stuff in good condition.  Oh well.  At least I don't have to go to work until Wednesday.

 

The last remnants of a once-mighty empire.



So there I was at Christmastime, watching my nephew play with... a rescued box of figures my brother had found in the attic.  It was apparently the only thing to survive from our formerly formidable empire.  Of all the playsets, ships, guns, costumes, lightsabers, helmets, and comic books all that remains is a partially filled case of action figures.  My nephew was enthralled.  He set them up and knocked them down and set them all up again.  In the coming years I'm sure they'll still be there and he'll still be playing with them.  And if the time comes when he seems to bore of them, and if he's very good, I'll whisper two words to him that will rekindle, if only briefly, his love affair with toys his dad and uncle played with 35 years ago.  Two words I hope will light up his eyes the way mine lit up when that star destroyer thundered across the screen in 1977.

Pellet gun.

Christmas Images

A few quick pics from the Georgia trip.  Our Christmases are not always traditional.  First of all, my nephew Cody, who is a great kid, has broken more bones in the last two years than the rest of my family has combined -- ever.  This presented an opportunity to give him a gift that he could truly use: bubble wrap.

Make sure your mother applies liberally before you go outside.

Macy was showing off her cup stacking skills, something she apparently picked up during gym (?!) recently.  After a while, it naturally occurred to see if we could touch the ceiling.

Nobody breathe.

And what would Christmas in Georgia be without the annual Cataula Poker Challenge.  Who won, you ask?  Here's a clue:

The first two-time winner.

For more pictures, check out the online photo album here.