Sunday, December 27, 2015
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Jackson kayak blog: peace of mind
This article was posted on the jackson kayak site on christmas eve...Merry Christmas to me.
http://jacksonkayak.com/blog/2015/12/25/finding-peace-mind-home-water/
http://jacksonkayak.com/blog/2015/12/25/finding-peace-mind-home-water/
Monday, November 23, 2015
Haley's letter
Leaving home and everything that is comfortable is hard, it'll be the hardest thing youll probably ever do. You won't have me to point out the briar patches or the thick mud like I did on our fishing and camping adventures. This is all you and I'm confident that you'll be fine. This may a bit cliché but its in your blood...you can groom this urge for further adventure or put it on a shelf.
Fear will tell you to quit. Don't listen. Be hard headed and prove to yourself just how tough you are.
You are going to change but it will be good change...some people call it a soul search...this is a time that you realize just how strong you are, when you understand things that you've been clueless about in the past. You'll realize how smart you are and just how ignorant you've been. It's OK, learn from it...this will only make a better "you".
You'll realize that what scared you in the past was silly and that the real fear is not living...you have a ticket to live large, to see beauty that others only see in books. Take it all in and thank god for the opportunity and courage to go on this adventure.
This is the time in your life that you go with the flow... you'll see that Rome Georgia...as awesome as it is has its faults...Have an open mind and embrace what every single person you meet brings into your life, whether it's positive or negative, tuck those observations back in your mind because 20 years from now what information you gathered will be nuggets of wisdom. It will make life much easier down the road.
Never turn down a chance to see the country side...especially with a local. It could be a river, a ski run or a restaurant. Go check it out. They don't call it Big Sky country for nothing.
Don't worry about home...I've got this. It'll be here when you return.
If you need anything... Call me. I have been exactly where your mind is right now. I've felt the same fears and anxiety that you'll feel. I've also skied down an 10,000 foot mountain, dove in to local culture and had the time of my life. It changed me too...
So, these tears that you may see flowing down my face on Thursday may alarm you...don't let them. Not one of them will be sad tears...they're simply tears of pride and happiness. You see, I see some of me in you. I want you, my daughter, my teammate to live life like its an ongoing adventure.
Make friends...
Work hard...
Play harder...
This is all you...kick some ass.
I love you
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
"My First Ultimate Adventure "
My friend Bill Clifton's mom, very bluntly said, "you're 19, school or the service."
Those words hit home...not what I wanted to hear but definitely something I needed.
I had never folded, ironed or washed clothes, hell, I'd only shaved a couple of times but I went to see the recruiter and I chose the United States Air Force Security Police.
On 28 November 1988 I flew to San Antonio Tx for basic training...I was green, scared and the prototypical Mamma's boy. After 14 weeks in San Antonio and 4 weeks of training at Fort Dix NJ I emerged a changed man and could iron the hell out of some clothes and could put a sweet shine on a pair of jungle boots.
My first duty station was Carswell AFB (aka...CarsHELL) in Fort Worth Tx. The duty was less than desired but I have some great memories and made some great friends...Joeseph G. Schmauss III, Ali Turon, Andreas Liss, Bob DeLeon were some of the best people I'd ever met.
Word got around our dormitory that a pile of orders were at headquarters and they thought I was going to Turkey...oh hell naw! I had requested Germany, Guam, the Azore's, Italy and Japan...something had to be wrong but then again I hadn't requested Fort Worth Texas in the previous "dream sheet" either.
When I arrived at headquarters I found that I indeed had orders but to my surprise, they were orders to an fairly unknown base in Germany....Buchel Air Base.
Buchel was actually a German Base known as Fliegerhorst Buchel with a small US detachment of about 100 Americans. It was on top of a mountain surrounded by agriculture fields, farms and small villages. In the valley below was the Mosel River and wine country. It was some of the most beautiful country I'd ever seen with it's castles, vineyards and cobblestone streets.
I left a sunny 70 degree Atlanta day knowing that this leg of my military service was the adventure that I had sought. I landed 12 hours later in a rainy cold Frankfurt Germany and was met at by fellow airmen Dave Torok and Mike Fluck at my gate. I remember thinking on the ride to Buchel, "Hoss, I'm a long long way from home." While that was true, everybody else was a long way from home too. I made friends with David Towler, Dan Smith, Eric Nollman, Don "Ski" Swiatkowski, Paul Flaherty, Dave Mapus, Jeff Richardson, Bill Haldeman, Wolf Shiedel, John Cunningham, Cephus Sturdivant and Greg Murphy (RIP)...we were all in the same boat. We partied hard, worked hard and played hard. We won best USAF small unit and in our off time went to numerous wine fests and skied in Germany, Austria and Switzerland.
While I'm much different now than I was then, those 4 short years were the single most educational, mind opening piece of my life. It was a pleasure to serve and a blessing to have served with the quality of men that I did.
Those words hit home...not what I wanted to hear but definitely something I needed.
I had never folded, ironed or washed clothes, hell, I'd only shaved a couple of times but I went to see the recruiter and I chose the United States Air Force Security Police.
On 28 November 1988 I flew to San Antonio Tx for basic training...I was green, scared and the prototypical Mamma's boy. After 14 weeks in San Antonio and 4 weeks of training at Fort Dix NJ I emerged a changed man and could iron the hell out of some clothes and could put a sweet shine on a pair of jungle boots.
My first duty station was Carswell AFB (aka...CarsHELL) in Fort Worth Tx. The duty was less than desired but I have some great memories and made some great friends...Joeseph G. Schmauss III, Ali Turon, Andreas Liss, Bob DeLeon were some of the best people I'd ever met.
Word got around our dormitory that a pile of orders were at headquarters and they thought I was going to Turkey...oh hell naw! I had requested Germany, Guam, the Azore's, Italy and Japan...something had to be wrong but then again I hadn't requested Fort Worth Texas in the previous "dream sheet" either.
When I arrived at headquarters I found that I indeed had orders but to my surprise, they were orders to an fairly unknown base in Germany....Buchel Air Base.
Buchel was actually a German Base known as Fliegerhorst Buchel with a small US detachment of about 100 Americans. It was on top of a mountain surrounded by agriculture fields, farms and small villages. In the valley below was the Mosel River and wine country. It was some of the most beautiful country I'd ever seen with it's castles, vineyards and cobblestone streets.
I left a sunny 70 degree Atlanta day knowing that this leg of my military service was the adventure that I had sought. I landed 12 hours later in a rainy cold Frankfurt Germany and was met at by fellow airmen Dave Torok and Mike Fluck at my gate. I remember thinking on the ride to Buchel, "Hoss, I'm a long long way from home." While that was true, everybody else was a long way from home too. I made friends with David Towler, Dan Smith, Eric Nollman, Don "Ski" Swiatkowski, Paul Flaherty, Dave Mapus, Jeff Richardson, Bill Haldeman, Wolf Shiedel, John Cunningham, Cephus Sturdivant and Greg Murphy (RIP)...we were all in the same boat. We partied hard, worked hard and played hard. We won best USAF small unit and in our off time went to numerous wine fests and skied in Germany, Austria and Switzerland.
While I'm much different now than I was then, those 4 short years were the single most educational, mind opening piece of my life. It was a pleasure to serve and a blessing to have served with the quality of men that I did.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
"We All Need a Playground "
Every kid needs a playground...playgrounds come in different flavors. You've got your usual ones with it's swing sets and slides, others have baseball fields and basketball courts and some are simply just a patch of woods.
As a kid I was bored on a traditional playground and the only thing interesting was when I'd take the flexible rubber seat of the swing and wrap it around my head, lean back until the chains were taught and press the seat tightly to my ears. When I did that it made almost the same sound as the scuba gear that Jacques Cousteau used in his underwater shows. I would listen to that sound and imagine I was one of the crew of the Calypso swimming alongside Cousteau looking for lost treasure or studying a distant coral reef. I'm sure if an adult would've noticed they'd wondered what the heck I was doing but a bored kid with a vivid imagination can have fun anywhere. Also, if you don't believe me about that sound give it a try next time you're at a playground... Just be sure to wipe it down with that antibacterial stuff because obviously there are some nasty germs floating around now that weren't here in the 70's.
Sports, I didn't like playing sports all that much...I hated losing (still do), I'm not a great team player and I was a chubby kid so the playground with the basketball courts weren't my idea of a barrel of fun. I did play a few seasons of football and in a youth church basketball league where I got ejected a couple of times for "profanity", it just wasn't my game.
The playground I enjoyed was a swamp located across the road from my house that we called " the ponds" and the entire length of Silver Creek. I could explore, build traps, hunt, fish and put my imagination to work. I noticed what birds were in and out of the area with the seasons, I'd then look them up in my Audubon bird book, a favorite was the Cedar Waxwing. I noticed how the fish I caught out of the tanic water at "the ponds" were almost black and differed from the brightly colored fish I caught in Silver creek. I noticed, observed and actually went home or to the library at school to research what I'd seen.
(*note*I do realize you can't hunt or trap on city property*)
Now days a kid doesn't have wild places to roam, everything is private and unless the kid is privileged enough to have parents or family members that own property then they're out of luck. I have no idea what I would've done if I didn't have land to roam on but I am thankful that I did. I didn't turn out perfect, I've had low points just like others but I do like who I am. I still have that same imagination and spirit that those woods I roamed help propagate.
That is why Burwell Creek Wetlands is so important to our community. In my opinion, if one kid gets a spark of imagination from seeing seasonal birds, frogs, odd plants or neat animals then it is worth saving. The truth is...it's not gonna be one kid but many kids and adults that will benefit from this place being kept a park area. Can you imagine walking a board walk over a working beaver swamp, seeing great blue herons and their little cousins the green heron stalking minnows, wood ducks, mallards, maybe even a mink; if you are quiet, you may see a whitetail doe and her fawn ease out of the privet and cross the trail front of you...this isn't my overactive imagination at work, this is one hundred percent possible.
This place is owned by the taxpayers and citizens of Rome, it's sitting there right across the street from Starbucks for heaven's sake. It's ours and ALL of the incumbent Commisioners on the ballot don't give a rip, literally. All that has to happen for this to be reality is ...
if you are a Rome city resident
1. Vote the incumbents out, to do this only cast your votes for the newcomers. *All three of the newcomers are for nixing the sale of Burwell Creek Wetlands to Ledbetter Properties and keeping it as public green space. That's it!
2. Spread the word that this is an important city election...a lot of citizens aren't interested in a boardwalk over a swamp, others aren't gonna go walk on our public trail system BUT I guarantee you that most city residents could care less about a "luxury" apartment complex or another cookie cutter "strip" mall. This may seem like small beans but it's actually huge in the sense of keeping Rome on its progressive path to a more beautiful and family friendly city for future generations.
3. If you are not a resident but like our neat little town, come to the First Friday concerts, chili cook off, walk our trails, fish our rivers, simply love nature and I might add because of it's relevance in this situation... Dislike "the man". Please, share anything you see about saving Burwell Creek Wetlands. Talk to your city resident friends about this situation, be vocal and help us to defeat this ill conceived plan. Help us to do the right thing.
Sometime this month, when you pull out of the drive thru at Starbucks with your delicious lattè or venti dark roast with 12 cubes of ice (my drink). Pull over at the " lane to nowhere" on the right side of Riverside Parkway at the bridge over that little Creek, yes, that's Burwell Creek, step up on the sidewalk and find you a clear view down into that beautiful beaver swamp. Try to conjure up that imagination from your childhood and envision the trails, a boardwalk leading to an outdoor classroom sitting on stilts. I bet you would've loved a field trip to a place like that when you were in the fourth grade...lets make it happen, we've only got a few weeks!
Peace, Jim Ware
As a kid I was bored on a traditional playground and the only thing interesting was when I'd take the flexible rubber seat of the swing and wrap it around my head, lean back until the chains were taught and press the seat tightly to my ears. When I did that it made almost the same sound as the scuba gear that Jacques Cousteau used in his underwater shows. I would listen to that sound and imagine I was one of the crew of the Calypso swimming alongside Cousteau looking for lost treasure or studying a distant coral reef. I'm sure if an adult would've noticed they'd wondered what the heck I was doing but a bored kid with a vivid imagination can have fun anywhere. Also, if you don't believe me about that sound give it a try next time you're at a playground... Just be sure to wipe it down with that antibacterial stuff because obviously there are some nasty germs floating around now that weren't here in the 70's.
Sports, I didn't like playing sports all that much...I hated losing (still do), I'm not a great team player and I was a chubby kid so the playground with the basketball courts weren't my idea of a barrel of fun. I did play a few seasons of football and in a youth church basketball league where I got ejected a couple of times for "profanity", it just wasn't my game.
The playground I enjoyed was a swamp located across the road from my house that we called " the ponds" and the entire length of Silver Creek. I could explore, build traps, hunt, fish and put my imagination to work. I noticed what birds were in and out of the area with the seasons, I'd then look them up in my Audubon bird book, a favorite was the Cedar Waxwing. I noticed how the fish I caught out of the tanic water at "the ponds" were almost black and differed from the brightly colored fish I caught in Silver creek. I noticed, observed and actually went home or to the library at school to research what I'd seen.
(*note*I do realize you can't hunt or trap on city property*)
Now days a kid doesn't have wild places to roam, everything is private and unless the kid is privileged enough to have parents or family members that own property then they're out of luck. I have no idea what I would've done if I didn't have land to roam on but I am thankful that I did. I didn't turn out perfect, I've had low points just like others but I do like who I am. I still have that same imagination and spirit that those woods I roamed help propagate.
That is why Burwell Creek Wetlands is so important to our community. In my opinion, if one kid gets a spark of imagination from seeing seasonal birds, frogs, odd plants or neat animals then it is worth saving. The truth is...it's not gonna be one kid but many kids and adults that will benefit from this place being kept a park area. Can you imagine walking a board walk over a working beaver swamp, seeing great blue herons and their little cousins the green heron stalking minnows, wood ducks, mallards, maybe even a mink; if you are quiet, you may see a whitetail doe and her fawn ease out of the privet and cross the trail front of you...this isn't my overactive imagination at work, this is one hundred percent possible.
This place is owned by the taxpayers and citizens of Rome, it's sitting there right across the street from Starbucks for heaven's sake. It's ours and ALL of the incumbent Commisioners on the ballot don't give a rip, literally. All that has to happen for this to be reality is ...
if you are a Rome city resident
1. Vote the incumbents out, to do this only cast your votes for the newcomers. *All three of the newcomers are for nixing the sale of Burwell Creek Wetlands to Ledbetter Properties and keeping it as public green space. That's it!
2. Spread the word that this is an important city election...a lot of citizens aren't interested in a boardwalk over a swamp, others aren't gonna go walk on our public trail system BUT I guarantee you that most city residents could care less about a "luxury" apartment complex or another cookie cutter "strip" mall. This may seem like small beans but it's actually huge in the sense of keeping Rome on its progressive path to a more beautiful and family friendly city for future generations.
3. If you are not a resident but like our neat little town, come to the First Friday concerts, chili cook off, walk our trails, fish our rivers, simply love nature and I might add because of it's relevance in this situation... Dislike "the man". Please, share anything you see about saving Burwell Creek Wetlands. Talk to your city resident friends about this situation, be vocal and help us to defeat this ill conceived plan. Help us to do the right thing.
Sometime this month, when you pull out of the drive thru at Starbucks with your delicious lattè or venti dark roast with 12 cubes of ice (my drink). Pull over at the " lane to nowhere" on the right side of Riverside Parkway at the bridge over that little Creek, yes, that's Burwell Creek, step up on the sidewalk and find you a clear view down into that beautiful beaver swamp. Try to conjure up that imagination from your childhood and envision the trails, a boardwalk leading to an outdoor classroom sitting on stilts. I bet you would've loved a field trip to a place like that when you were in the fourth grade...lets make it happen, we've only got a few weeks!
Peace, Jim Ware
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Blitzkrieg on the Flats
BLITZKRIEG
pr. bliss-kreeg
German for "lightning war"
I recently spent a week alone on the gulf coast of Florida. My reason for being there was an inshore fishing tournament that I didn't do so well in but the pre-fishing days leading up to it was full of many awesomely unique experiences. I saw manatee, eagles, sharks and...tarpon.
Tarpon were not a target species in the tournament so I really wasn't geared up to tackle the "Silver King" of the flats but when you're fishing and you see one of these bruisers surface, well, you're gonna try and catch it.
This particular day, I had launched my kayak before daylight, paddled a mile down the shore then a mile out in the bay...twice, fishing the whole time with very little luck. On my paddle back through the mangroves that evening some ibis' had flown in to roost ,so I eased over, admired them and took some pictures then continued my paddle in. As I entered a small bay like area I noticed some surface activity, it looked to be a small snook feeding on finger mullet then I saw it...the back of a fish breached the water. At first I didn't know what it was but another one breached showing the unmistakable dorsal fin of a tarpon.
The peaceful float back to camp just got put on hold. You see, I've grown up reading about or watching folks like Lefty Kreh, Stu Apte, Flip Pallot and later José Wejebè chase these fish on TV and in magazines. It would be an understatement to say that catching one would be anything less than a dream come true and here was my chance. I knew immediately that I was severely under gunned with my inshore rigs spooled with 15 pound test but I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity.
First, I tossed a jig, then a jerk bait with no takers. I then grabbed my rod that had a mirro-lure walk the dog type topwater plug on it and made a long cast. Walk the dog refers to the action the lure makes when you twitch the bait while reeling. When done properly the lure will dart from side to side mimicking a wounded baitfish. I want to add that I've caught bass and striped bass on topwater lures before and they both possess the ability to create an impressive strike but what I was about to experience makes those strikes look like pure amateur stuff...after 6 or 8 twitches I was about to be baptized into big boy fishing. The hit was so violent that it startled me. I set the hook and the lure came wizzing by my head. The fish disappeared for a few minutes then I saw one breach again...same as before...long cast, twitch twitch twitch and wrooosh!!!! The fish rolled on my bait without a hook up. 3's a charm right? When I saw another breach, I made the cast and started my retrieve...twitch, twitch, twitch. This time the fish came from several yards behind my lure. I watched it's wake and anticipated the strike...WROOOSH!!! This strike had all of the anger, attitude and precision of a blitzkrieg. I set the hook and I had him. It probably lasted only a few seconds but the fish stripped line like my reel was on free spool then it did what tarpon are so famous for...it jumped, twice! It looked to be in the 20-30 lb range and eventually threw the hook, this creek chub fisherman from the hills of North Georgia raised his first tarpon all by himself while in a kayak. It was the most intense bit of raw nature I'd ever witnessed on the other end of my line. It made up for my poor showing in that Sunday's tournament and while I may not enter another saltwater tourney, I will most definitely go back to E.G. Simmon's park with a plan...not to raise a "Silver King" but to get my hands on one. Peace
pr. bliss-kreeg
German for "lightning war"
I recently spent a week alone on the gulf coast of Florida. My reason for being there was an inshore fishing tournament that I didn't do so well in but the pre-fishing days leading up to it was full of many awesomely unique experiences. I saw manatee, eagles, sharks and...tarpon.
Tarpon were not a target species in the tournament so I really wasn't geared up to tackle the "Silver King" of the flats but when you're fishing and you see one of these bruisers surface, well, you're gonna try and catch it.
This particular day, I had launched my kayak before daylight, paddled a mile down the shore then a mile out in the bay...twice, fishing the whole time with very little luck. On my paddle back through the mangroves that evening some ibis' had flown in to roost ,so I eased over, admired them and took some pictures then continued my paddle in. As I entered a small bay like area I noticed some surface activity, it looked to be a small snook feeding on finger mullet then I saw it...the back of a fish breached the water. At first I didn't know what it was but another one breached showing the unmistakable dorsal fin of a tarpon.
The peaceful float back to camp just got put on hold. You see, I've grown up reading about or watching folks like Lefty Kreh, Stu Apte, Flip Pallot and later José Wejebè chase these fish on TV and in magazines. It would be an understatement to say that catching one would be anything less than a dream come true and here was my chance. I knew immediately that I was severely under gunned with my inshore rigs spooled with 15 pound test but I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity.
First, I tossed a jig, then a jerk bait with no takers. I then grabbed my rod that had a mirro-lure walk the dog type topwater plug on it and made a long cast. Walk the dog refers to the action the lure makes when you twitch the bait while reeling. When done properly the lure will dart from side to side mimicking a wounded baitfish. I want to add that I've caught bass and striped bass on topwater lures before and they both possess the ability to create an impressive strike but what I was about to experience makes those strikes look like pure amateur stuff...after 6 or 8 twitches I was about to be baptized into big boy fishing. The hit was so violent that it startled me. I set the hook and the lure came wizzing by my head. The fish disappeared for a few minutes then I saw one breach again...same as before...long cast, twitch twitch twitch and wrooosh!!!! The fish rolled on my bait without a hook up. 3's a charm right? When I saw another breach, I made the cast and started my retrieve...twitch, twitch, twitch. This time the fish came from several yards behind my lure. I watched it's wake and anticipated the strike...WROOOSH!!! This strike had all of the anger, attitude and precision of a blitzkrieg. I set the hook and I had him. It probably lasted only a few seconds but the fish stripped line like my reel was on free spool then it did what tarpon are so famous for...it jumped, twice! It looked to be in the 20-30 lb range and eventually threw the hook, this creek chub fisherman from the hills of North Georgia raised his first tarpon all by himself while in a kayak. It was the most intense bit of raw nature I'd ever witnessed on the other end of my line. It made up for my poor showing in that Sunday's tournament and while I may not enter another saltwater tourney, I will most definitely go back to E.G. Simmon's park with a plan...not to raise a "Silver King" but to get my hands on one. Peace
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
"Enter Sandman"
I'm a forty six year old man, I'm supposed to be past the age of excitement, I'm definitely past my prime and with one foot in the grave but there are a few things get me fired up...Georgia Tech Football, my annual backpacking bow hunt to Swallow Creek WMA and kayak fishing. The latter, Kayak Fishing really stokes that fire. I love the quietness of paddling, the skill test of catching finicky fish, the challenge of battling behemoth saltwater fish and fishing tournaments...I really love the competition of a fishing tournament.
There are a few things I'm above average at...being a father and a husband but they don't have competitions for that but I am also a decent fisherman and fortunately there are fishing tournaments.
Fishing tournaments are a non-contact sport and at the captains meetings or at weigh in we are a brotherhood but that time on the water in between is when the competitor is uncaged. Most contestants have prepared religiously... Map study, countless hours reading about the water to be fished, fish patterns, we then pre-fish the area which is no less than a scrimmage. We time everything...camp to the ramp, ramp to the weigh in, ramp to point A, A to B etc... It's not just about catching fish, you have to be efficient, you have to take the wind and weather into count...its as much about strategy as it is about the actual fish. Granted, you're not going to win if you don't get on fish but odds are you're not gonna win if you paddle out without any sort of plan.
I love the preparation almost as much as my time on the water. Twice this year I've taken a weeks vacation just for a fishing tournament. I did all of my research about the fish and the fishing area in the months leading up to tournament week, I travel to the location and test my theories. I rule out each one, I'll paddle miles each day, make hundreds of casts, tie on countless lures until it looks good. Sometimes "good" isn't really good though. Sometimes the plan ends up being one that arises from the pre-fishing failures instead of sucesses. I've went into more than one tournament only knowing what the fish weren't biting and where they were not at. I actually won a tournament with only that information. So trial and error plays a big part but gut instinct is also important. That gut instinct comes from experience fishing, knowing what they're probably eating, where the bait is at and when they'll be feeding on said bait.
As you can see, a lot of time is put into preparing for a fishing tournament so the potential prize must be large...not hardly! A weekend club tourney will pay out according to the number of entries. On average, at least in my area, we'll have 15-25 fisherman with the winner getting 150 bucks...definitely not enough to pay the bills but this year there is a bigger picture. Chad Hoover and the guys at HOOK1/Kayak Bass Fishing have organized a tournament series that pays off in a big way. Four tournaments that will net the winners somewhere around 85 grand combined, maybe more. Then the mother of them all...the KBF National Championship which is only open to people who've qualified through the open tournaments or through their local club. If you're good enough to win that there is a $20,000 check with your name on it.
That's why I fish tournament's, I like seeing where I stand amongst the ever growing field of competition. I like the idea of being able to pay my house off by fishing, I like having a dream...like I said earlier, I'm forty six...life isn't supposed to be exciting anymore but this puts a spring in my step as well as many other kayak fisherman across the country. It turns our beloved hobby into a something spectacular several weekends out of the year. It is attempting to put what I consider the greatest outdoor hobby on a much needed pedestal.
I'm lucky...I have a wife that gets it. She see's my passion, she knows she is married to a fisherman.
I'm leaving for a week to go fish a tournament in Florida, alone. If I place in the top ten it'll greatly improve my chances for that National Championship ticket. You may think she would have some animosity towards me going to "the beach" for a week without her
...nope....
She's only said, "Kick some ass."
She gets it!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)