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It’s been a good run… it’s been fun and cool and interesting, but I’m sorry. We’re moving our page to tumblr – a newer, more network savvy site with greater customization tools. Thanks for reading here on WordPress and event though WordPress is amazing in itself, head on over to for more Dripppyfingers write ups.


There are very, very few – my friends can vouch – women I would call stunning. I could count the number I’ve met in real life on one hand. I realize this post is filled with a massive amount of what could be taken as douchebaggery, but shouldn’t as I don’t consider myself any type of Brad Pitt, or even a sofa-jumping Tom Cruise – does acting crazy about a women make you less attractive in his case? I’m simply stating that in life you see or happen by absolutely gorgeous people who in some strange way seem to easily express themselves through their features. It’s a type of complete comfort and easiness that draws you in and in many cases, makes you feel like it’d be amazing to be something special to them. I don’t know if this is making sense, but honestly there are some people who somehow look as if their insides are showing through and it’s nothing short of jaw-dropping. Perfect example: Natalie Portman

Even with a shaved head she is completely graceful.

So for the past few weeks I’ve been teaching little kids swim lessons.  I did it last year because they needed an extra hand and even though it’s sometimes a pain to make my way back over to work after being there all morning, it’s sort of pretty fun sometimes.  I’ve learned kids are a lot more intuitive than many think.  They’re also really, really interesting to listen to.  I think one of the greatest skills J.D. Salinger had and utilized in a lot of his stories is the art of portraying the confusion and need for understanding all children exhibit at some point in their lives.  One of the best cases I can pull from memory is Lionel’s character from “Down at the Dinghy” from Nine Stories by Salinger.  Lionel’s character is cautious and confused, but yet very certain and adamant that he has been wronged directly even though he hasn’t (read the story to find out what I’m edging on).  Kids also turn on a dime.  They can be laughing and giggling away and then turn to slowly evolving tears at the slightest offense.  They have so much heart and wear it on their sleeves at all times.

On the first day of swim lessons I’m pretty sure I scared one of the little boys I teach.  I imagine that, by chance, I might look like the boogie man if he hadn’t eaten in a month to some children.  His father took him into the locker room and when he came back out, still sniffling and rubbing his nose on the back of his tiny forearm, he walked over with me to sit down and take off his shoes.  He had crocs on and even though I, myself, see no reason they exist commented on them, ‘These are pretty cool crocs you have’ – an effort to shake any boogie man correlations loose.   He looked up and answered.

“Yea.  I like them.”  He sat for a moment and watched as I took off his shoes and put them under a chair.  When I stood to walk over to the steps to get into the pool he arched his head back and whispered to me.  “Wanna know something?”  I smiled casually and bent down to listen – I imagine as a kid I would have liked it if a grown up had bent down to my level when I whispered.  He leaned forward to whisper in my ear.  “They came in a box,” he said and leaned back in the chair as I nodded.

What do you say to something like that?  Well, all I could come back to answer my new found friend was ‘Wow!  That’s awesome.  More things should come in boxes.’

I went on a run this morning; I woke up with the sun peaking through my blinds and could no longer sleep, so I got up, put my shoes on and went for a run down my street.  It was warm, heavy and humid – the kind of warmth that presses in on your sides and weighs on your shoulders like an ox yoke.

I started out down the street, turned left onto the Huckleberry Trail and then up the few steps onto a side road that leads to a hidden driveway that runs parallel to main street.  The gravel on the driveway behind the houses facing the main road crunches nicely beneath your feet – the the tiny rocks spreading into an even grind beneath your forefoot – and so I go running here a lot to escape.

I crossed over main street and started up the golf course hill, winding up and around the paths all the way to the top, expecting a magnificent view.  Instead, the haze clouded over the mountains usually seen in the distance; just a gray veil hiding the crests and troughs of the blue ridges.

I descended disappointed, but continued on, back over main street, past Draper Road, past Preston Avenue, and back onto the Huckleberry Trail by Margaret Beeks Elementary. Up ahead I saw a man walking his dog. The man’s hair was grey and cropped and he wore a simple white undershirt with jeans and a scuffed pair of boots. Now normally when passing people on the huck, elderly or not there is an unwritten and unmentioned rule that, out of courtesy, the runner is responsible for announcing their presence to the unsuspecting walker/biker/runner etc. Normally this can easily be done with a louder cough, a couple shuffles of the sneakers on the pavement, or even just a loud, but fake, sneeze. Some resort to the ‘behind you’ call out, but only those who really don’t mind going out of their way. Afterwards the person, being alerted to the runner’s presence moves aside/stops/slows and lets the runner pass. Sometimes, when the person has not been sufficiently warned, they jump, startle, or even scream softly; it’s not pleasant and I as a runner do not enjoy scaring people, but sometimes it is inevitable and I think how would I feel if a malnourished looking skeleton came up beside me all of a sudden.

Anyways, I approached the man and his dog – a small grey dog with shaggy fur which I assumed his wife had picked out, he at first opposing the animal and then later growing to love it, leading to him taking it for walks by himself later on. I projected a double alert system as this was an older man who looked like he might have a little trouble hearing even if you were right beside him. I scuffed my feet against the path and coughed a few times like I was clearing something from my throat. Thinking he had been warned and even believing that he had moved to the side of the path slightly for me to pass by, I continued on.

Out of all the reactions I have ever encountered while running, I have never met a person who wanted to fight and so when I came up on the man’s side and he turned in a flash poised like a 1920’s prize fighter, holding his fists one behind the other, ready to strike his attacker, me, at any instant, I can say that I was thoroughly surprised. I threw my hands in the air and immediately apologized after which the man calmed and assured me it wasn’t anything to apologize for, that I had only given him a start. I turned and eventually finished my run, thinking the entire rest the way about what would have happened if the man had been a little more frightened. Would he have punched me? If so, where would it have landed? I wasn’t much taller so I would assume the face, but judging from his stance he may have had some experience. Would he have gone for the gut then to the side of the face, finishing with an upper cut to leave me unconscious on the side of the Huckleberry? Could I have taken an old-man punch? I’d like to think I could. I’d like to think I’m pretty tough sometimes, but really it might just be a farce as I haven’t fought, and don’t intend to, anyone since elementary school.

Moral of the story is, nothing really. Maybe, don’t trust old men. Or, don’t surprise them half-naked – top half – while they’re walking their dogs in the morning. Either way, I learned my lesson I guess and haven’t seen the man since. I think if I did, maybe I might stop and do a couple fake jabs at him to see what would happen. Or maybe I’d just run past and nod silently, hoping he didn’t finish what he’d almost started.

I went home to watch my brother graduate from high school this past weekend.

My grandparents, Aunt, Sister, Nephew and long-time family friend all came down from up north for the celebration.

It was the first time I’d ever gotten to see my nephew Finn. And so we hung out a lot.

We had a man trip too – just men, no women. We went up to D.C., my dad, pop-pop and I that is, to see the World War II Memorial. My Pop-pop served during WWII and has told me many stories I wish I could remember exactly as he tells them.

It’s bigger than that, but you can check it out for yourself. It was a good trip home and good to see family again and especially good to see the kid graduate….