tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76442734733731660682024-03-05T07:19:12.516-08:00Permanent VacationlandMichaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-41172928967314182362017-12-23T04:55:00.000-08:002020-09-06T16:05:28.065-07:00Afternoon in Acadia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Last week I went for the first, of what will hopefully be a great many, hikes in <b><a href="http://www.nps.gov/acad/index.htm" target="_blank">Acadia National Park</a></b>. The trail I chose to hike was the North Ridge Trail. It goes 2.5 miles from the Loop Road to the summit of <b><a href="http://www.acadiamagic.com/CadillacMountain.html" target="_blank">Cadillac Mountain. </a></b>And, it marked the first time (in 20 years of hiking) that I ever climbed a mountain NOT in the state of New Hampshire.<br /><br />The day was cold and clear, with just a little bit of wind. It had rained the day before so there was some residual wetness on the rocks with a few icy spots. Especially near the summit. But, I came prepared and was soon crunching along the ice with my micro-spikes firmly attached to my trails shoes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I reached the summit in less than an hour and was shocked to find it completely deserted. Yes, it was noon on a Wednesday. Yes, it was mid-December. And yes, it was in the 20's with the wind-chill. But still. It was weird. Especially since the other 3 times I'd been to the top of Cadillac (by car) it had been absolutely crawling with people. <br /><br />I stayed at the summit for a good 15-20 minutes, just soaking in the view. Then slowly made my way back down to the car. A very happy hiker indeed! For a first summit outside of NH, I don't think I could have picked a better day, or place, to be!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-973415440903164952016-05-23T08:03:00.001-07:002016-05-23T08:04:09.383-07:00Sweet Disposition<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">This past</span> weekend
I had the great pleasure of seeing my daughter Erin graduate from College. It
was a bitter sweet moment for me as I am so very proud of the woman that she
has become. But, at the same time, I know that her path of life will soon be
leading her elsewhere.</span></span>
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She and I have been through an awful lot together. Many ups and downs over the
years. But she has continued loving, dreaming, and laughing like no one is watching.
My hope for her now is that the “real world” never changes that sweet disposition
we’ve all grown to love.</span></span>
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Congrats Erin! I love you. And always will. ~ Dad</span></span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzATKrUmoFYUoPgapgd9RL7DMNXWWwwmnqLLbtEjHqxpUobauZ1IEuWsZz4sDitF2_oTLxJPvL5H2vPE2-98w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-29818737675185442612016-03-23T10:30:00.002-07:002016-04-06T12:41:39.607-07:00Elliott + Elliott<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yesterday was my first day at <a href="http://www.eena.com/Elliott_+_Elliott_Architecture/E_+_E___Recent_Work_1.html" target="_blank"><b>Elliott + Elliott Architecture</b></a>. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I will be working part-time (15-20 hours a week) for them. And mostly from home, so that I can continue to take care of the kids before and after school. I will occasionally have to visit the office in Blue Hill, to check in from time to time. But, it's only 14 easy-driving miles away.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm very excited to be back working on a team again. It feels like it's been forever. The people I've met so far have been very cool and the firm has done some pretty amazing work over the years. <br /><br />They've even published a book! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, it looks like m<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">y little mini-vacation is over...</span> </span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-74747703525984018222016-03-22T10:17:00.000-07:002016-03-23T10:17:45.890-07:00Morgan Bay<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On my way back from Blue Hill today I took a little side trip to the South Surry Peninsula and <a href="http://www.satelliteviews.net/cgi-bin/g.cgi?fid=571661&state=ME&ftype=bay" target="_blank"><b>Morgan Bay</b></a>. It was a very quiet and pretty spot, with great views across the bay to the mountains of Acadia. We'll definitely be back during the warmer months (when it's most likely a lot less quiet) to do some biking, hiking, and perhaps even visit the beach there. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span id="goog_608198151"></span><span id="goog_608198152"></span></span></span><br />Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-72377281357074679832016-03-21T10:09:00.000-07:002016-03-23T10:10:06.078-07:00Sort of Spring<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Today was the first full day of spring. So, of course, we had a snowstorm and school was cancelled. Oh well, at least it's pretty. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sort of.</span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-72765040032952961972016-03-20T10:06:00.000-07:002016-03-23T10:09:48.482-07:00Sieur de Monts<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">On Sunday, I took full advantage of the lull before the snow storm and drove down to <b><a href="http://www.acadia.ws/sieur-de-monts.htm" target="_blank">Sieur de Monts</a></b>, on MDI,<b> </b>to do a little run/hiking in Acadia. <br /><br />Acadia was first established as <b>Sieur de Monts
National Monument </b>in July 1916 (we'll be celebrating it's centennial this year) by President Woodrow Wilson. It was not until January
1929 that it became known as Acadia National Park. There is a spring at this particular location where, in 1909, George Dorr (the park's first superintendent) built a temple like structure and carved <i>“The
Sweet Waters of Acadia”</i> on a nearby rock.<br /><br />Today, the area around the Sieur de Monts spring includes the <b><a href="http://www.acadiamagic.com/wild-gardens.html">Wild Gardens of Acadia</a></b>, the <b><a href="http://www.acadiamagic.com/abbe-museum.html">Abbe Museum</a></b> and a <b><a href="http://www.acadiamagic.com/nature-center.html">Nature Center.</a> </b>As well as miles of well-maintained, and easily navigated walking trails. Definitely worth a visit if you're in town.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was here that I started my adventure. 2 miles on the mostly flat Kane/Cannon Brook Trail, 4 miles up and over Cadillac Mountain on the South/North Ridge Trail, then 2 more miles of mostly flat Kebo/Stratheden Trail. Despite some annoying ice patches, I finished the 8 mile loop in a little over 2 hours (3.5 mph, my fastest hike yet in Acadia) and even had time to add on a couple miles up to Huguenots Head, and back. <br /><br />All in all, a good "first day of spring" hike.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><span id="goog_608198125"></span><span id="goog_608198126"></span></span></span> Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-49557841704353422352016-03-19T09:30:00.000-07:002016-03-23T09:31:18.401-07:00Birthday Party<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Today was Ethan's 6th Birthday Party. We had it at <a href="http://www.playlandadventures.com/" target="_blank"><b>Playland Adventures</b></a>. An indoor bouncy house playground in Brewer, ME. It was a lightly attended event (only one of his friends from school was able to come) but he didn't care. He had fun anyway.<br /> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span id="goog_608198103"></span><span id="goog_608198104"></span></span></span><br />Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-82219412816425150692016-03-18T08:58:00.000-07:002016-03-23T11:09:10.246-07:00 The Littlest Wade<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our not-so-little boy turns 6 today. We gave him the option of staying home from school, but he was determined to go. So he went.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Come to think of it, I would say that "determined" is probably the best word I could use to describe him these days. Other words COULD be used. Especially when I'm feeling tired, or annoyed. Words like fussy, stubborn, difficult, precise, relentless, demanding, and critical.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But, what it all boils down to is that he tries REALLY hard at whatever he does. Whether it's Karate, Legos, Hockey, Drawing, Running, Reading, Biking, or Menacing his sister. He's all in! I guess, as the littlest Wade, he must feel like he needs to work twice as hard to measure up.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He's turning into such an awesome little dude. I'd tell him that he's well on his way to being just like his bigger brother and sisters, but he'd probably just shrug, turn around, and get right back to whatever important thing he was working on.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0SDxgqtO03uX1zhZQAVOD5FVmAUiKU_Ieuymdl86S41j0YRr3dwaD4Xqxh_055xE3DQXJxpNSOAaAT3mYmuf1e_pkC-4UNiJfSZh_VmhcF17XIeRBGP8znPSxWzlFx0VgHeWmTvMOzdH/s1600/6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0SDxgqtO03uX1zhZQAVOD5FVmAUiKU_Ieuymdl86S41j0YRr3dwaD4Xqxh_055xE3DQXJxpNSOAaAT3mYmuf1e_pkC-4UNiJfSZh_VmhcF17XIeRBGP8znPSxWzlFx0VgHeWmTvMOzdH/s400/6.jpg" width="300" /></a><br /> </span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-87511733094723842112016-03-17T08:52:00.000-07:002016-03-23T08:58:39.414-07:00Ginni Burke<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Today we said goodbye to a truly wonderful woman. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">To have been half as
giving </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">To have been half as gracious </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">To have been half as kind </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">To
have been half as selfless </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">To have been half as inspirational </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And to
have been half as loved as <a class="profileLink" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=718283067" href="https://www.facebook.com/virginia.a.burke.3">Virginia Arlene Burke</a> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Would mean that you led a very full life indeed.<br /><br />Until we meet again, Aunt Ginni.</span></span><br />
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Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-26594730394125511212016-03-16T08:16:00.001-07:002016-03-16T08:18:45.113-07:00Meet at the Moo<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The calendar might still say it's winter, but Ellsworth's finest ice cream shop, <b><a href="http://www.mortonsmoo.com/" target="_blank">Mortons Moo</a></b>, is officially open for the season. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Like <b><a href="http://www.haywardsicecream.com/" target="_blank">Haywards</a></b> back in Nashua, the "Moo" has a huge selection of homemade ice cream flavors to choose from. And some I'd never even heard (or thought) of before. Like Ginger, Cherry Chip, Blueberry, and yes, even Guinness!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">They also have a wide variety of cakes, pies, cookies and candies to choose from. And, a large array of coffees, teas, hot chocolates, milk shakes and espressos to wash it all down with. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I
took the kids there last week for the first time. Ethan ordered Vanilla
(as usual), Emily got Mocha Chip, and I went with a Maple Gelato in a
Waffle cone. Mmm Mmm Moo.</span></span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-12513269530254173852016-03-15T08:59:00.000-07:002016-03-15T09:04:49.723-07:00Got Wood?<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Driving around this part of Maine, it doesn't take long to figure out that forestry is big business in this state. How big? How about 8 billion dollars big. Forestry represents about 7% of the the state's gross domestic product, employs 5% of all workers in the state, and has a total payroll of about 2 billion dollars.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There are nearly 18 million acres of forestry land in Maine which comprises 89% of the state's total
acreage, making Maine the most heavily forested state in the country. And, with more than 9 million acres of forestland having become certified as
sustainably managed, it also has the largest percentage of certified forestry land in the country.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Certified foresting means that landowners must conform to
sustainable forestry practices which are measured by an outside auditor who works to ensure they are meeting 20 control standards promoting
the protection of wildlife, plants, soil, air and water quality.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, not only does Maine do forestry big, it does it right. Or at least as right as anyone else in the <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">US</span>. </span></span><br />
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<br />Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-82263920345455784312016-03-14T09:01:00.000-07:002016-03-15T09:18:55.271-07:00California Dreaming<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Today my eldest daughter traveled to California to visit my eldest son. This makes me very happy. For many reasons...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am happy that my son has made a great life for himself in San Francisco. I am happy that my daughter is well on her way to doing the same. And, I am happy that they are getting to spend some time together before before she graduates college and before </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">he starts his new job</span></span>. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But
most of all, I am happy that they both have a love of life, a desire to
explore, and a work ethic to make it all possible. It means I did
something right. Or at least got very, very lucky.</span></span> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7MHcexRDat0Q3Drho6o8ANMlQS1J5uQ4rkV1lzK1faX4MZGo-vuT_INayZ7gwx2pCan68BDIJ4t5q2XojLAV-1bajtuV3l-QAQGuvSP5kySg-cjpnIJwUrv5sWGOZYONECEsjiYzz-WV/s1600/12821522_10206448999168622_3015847475921097322_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7MHcexRDat0Q3Drho6o8ANMlQS1J5uQ4rkV1lzK1faX4MZGo-vuT_INayZ7gwx2pCan68BDIJ4t5q2XojLAV-1bajtuV3l-QAQGuvSP5kySg-cjpnIJwUrv5sWGOZYONECEsjiYzz-WV/s400/12821522_10206448999168622_3015847475921097322_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-35852959056962305932016-03-13T08:18:00.000-07:002016-03-23T11:07:58.705-07:00Campground Research<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Since arriving in Ellsworth, we've been scouting out campgrounds to visit with (and perhaps seasonally keep) our Wade Family Camper. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The problem (good thing?) is that there are so many seemingly great places to choose from. And all are really close by. Campgrounds near rivers, lakes, ponds, mountains, and the ocean are all possibilities. And all within a half-hour drive from our house.<br /><br />I guess that the benefit of living where people traditionally go to vacation.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIx-TnpDwEywngWXJRdw9RWtxD_lxCCugHCDCs6aM7vwGpgn7NPWwKyIJpCBfy3ZBgIYLUKD-v3PQHLD6Ku_OOTEM7rcG7DxghPrKuq1z1DcnmbXXCQIGgwZ9G1kruQ1-XK4O2ti9Scd_l/s1600/12381161_10206274937297184_1609817636_o.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIx-TnpDwEywngWXJRdw9RWtxD_lxCCugHCDCs6aM7vwGpgn7NPWwKyIJpCBfy3ZBgIYLUKD-v3PQHLD6Ku_OOTEM7rcG7DxghPrKuq1z1DcnmbXXCQIGgwZ9G1kruQ1-XK4O2ti9Scd_l/s400/12381161_10206274937297184_1609817636_o.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> </span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-74902151720318257242016-03-11T11:19:00.000-08:002016-03-11T11:20:14.623-08:00A Case of Acadia<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The designation "Acadia" in North America is first credited to the Italian Explorer Verrazzano who, on his 16th century map, applied the ancient Greek name "Arcadia" to the entire east coast - north of Virginia. </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Arcadia" derives from Greek classical antiquity and had extended meanings of "refuge", or "idyllic place". And, those definitions most certainly apply to nearby <a href="http://www.nps.gov/acad/index.htm" target="_blank"><b>Acadia National Park</b></a>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">However, the word "Acadia" itself is pervasive around these parts of Down East Maine and has been used to sell almost everything. Healthcare Companies, New Home Construction, Insurance, GMC Automobiles, Real Estate Agencies, Pharmaceutical Companies. You name it. Acadia has helped sell it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now, who knows? These may, in fact, be the most idyllic builders, drug makers, car manufacturers, and insurance salesmen in all the land. But, I highly doubt it. And, I also highly doubt that this version of Acadia is what dear, intrepid, Giovanni had in mind when he coined the term. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of course, I thought I'd seen it all. Until I came across this sign while driving around town ...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">... well, I guess an urn could be considered a refuge, of sorts.</span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-77652957606722106612016-03-10T11:25:00.000-08:002016-03-11T11:34:42.612-08:00Tinker Farm Sunset<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was sitting at the dinner table with the kids earlier this week when, all of a sudden, I stood up and bolted for the door. I opened it up and this is what I saw...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now, perhaps it's because our town is near the coast where there tends to be a bit more cloud cover. Or, because our neighborhood sits high up on a hill. Or, because our house is in the middle of a large open field. Whatever the reason, we seem to be getting a lot more spectacular sunsets here in Ellsworth than I remember seeing back in Nashua.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Maine. Maybe it truly is the way life should be.</span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-62630001270647829542016-03-09T10:30:00.000-08:002016-03-11T14:01:10.936-08:00Half-Pint Portraiture<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This week, Ethan said, "Daddy I want to draw you. Show me a picture, so I can copy."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, I gave him this:</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgA1QWruu1f1aZxi91_hOCN5t9-khpzT7jcfduADvjiemtvDWaRy_AERYGlFpPldJKiMwLmCK3CzSB8bVk5_FPfAumpX308KRsm2aY-Xl4i_Sr8QhuNK49bV4MhM_6FT_5MOiguJiKbn1D/s1600/12016456_10206428472615471_180788410_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgA1QWruu1f1aZxi91_hOCN5t9-khpzT7jcfduADvjiemtvDWaRy_AERYGlFpPldJKiMwLmCK3CzSB8bVk5_FPfAumpX308KRsm2aY-Xl4i_Sr8QhuNK49bV4MhM_6FT_5MOiguJiKbn1D/s320/12016456_10206428472615471_180788410_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A</span>nd, he turned it into this:</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNG67PXr4_7K6ihHGH8yuKvh_sWD88A8xRWjt2-QVic5GItPdiK9hUgENKmfu-3cu4VvUodj_sHujUEgCzInEk2Yi9hudM558eVGS7nsDh51MsDhHKn3i5KUFhnhJPxsJ5HZN8_adtldrC/s1600/10584472_10206428472815476_1076555975_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNG67PXr4_7K6ihHGH8yuKvh_sWD88A8xRWjt2-QVic5GItPdiK9hUgENKmfu-3cu4VvUodj_sHujUEgCzInEk2Yi9hudM558eVGS7nsDh51MsDhHKn3i5KUFhnhJPxsJ5HZN8_adtldrC/s400/10584472_10206428472815476_1076555975_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />Not bad for a 5-year old. Don't you think?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He even captured the ever-present smirk.</span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-56843564111199576652016-03-08T10:22:00.000-08:002016-03-11T10:32:49.675-08:00Further Proof<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSHQWI3FMqB1Pax1mxYeocLmvynBMYtMou2x7wY8v5qKIB3ooHHPrAGxzfIdAQH6rSqeyPL_VnanYHNyOwR6ZC3WdCn_x9CEo5m3ERox887Z-Qa8NAdSRmthVAAZtLPm9DweUSKzAXP7C/s1600/10477793_10206428472175460_1104881247_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="80" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSHQWI3FMqB1Pax1mxYeocLmvynBMYtMou2x7wY8v5qKIB3ooHHPrAGxzfIdAQH6rSqeyPL_VnanYHNyOwR6ZC3WdCn_x9CEo5m3ERox887Z-Qa8NAdSRmthVAAZtLPm9DweUSKzAXP7C/s320/10477793_10206428472175460_1104881247_o.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><br /> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">During my travels this week, I found further proof that Ellsworth is a lot more like <a href="http://permanentvacationland.blogspot.com/2016/02/gravity-falls.html" target="_blank"><b>Gravity Falls</b></a> than many people would like you to think.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC5xauque7U6jhFJPB7sHExQ4-V65qHpYV5lXGKTb0oLTN6TbwQq3xy-8HyHDsk638VDXsGkb6RqG1Jcc4laiAlQ4ducP0iS6WSlef8jPqoSdH7DF2ngCcmib9I55Z46klsrUpWuCmZvUs/s1600/12528735_10206428472455467_1419920995_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC5xauque7U6jhFJPB7sHExQ4-V65qHpYV5lXGKTb0oLTN6TbwQq3xy-8HyHDsk638VDXsGkb6RqG1Jcc4laiAlQ4ducP0iS6WSlef8jPqoSdH7DF2ngCcmib9I55Z46klsrUpWuCmZvUs/s400/12528735_10206428472455467_1419920995_o.jpg" width="400" /></a> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Above is a picture of an abandoned "mystery shack" on the outskirts of town. Other than the sign, do you notice any thing interesting and unusual about the building itself? Something that might connect Ellsworth to that other weird town in the upper Northwest, that I spoke of earlier? Take a closer look at shape of the roof eaves... and oddly placed window...<br /><br />...Yup, you guessed it...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvC_Wvf8Ctp_-hg_q_vZHn3VgPEUHbXYqIrlt6QVy-K_IXhMqhV50gpRpeLE_sU-JQJXesXmJQo-7xN54Pd5NPRuZcND030QESJMsKvJL0J76N9S0sNwCXtO4c0YxTP1b4_Neu70KMDML/s1600/Bill.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcvC_Wvf8Ctp_-hg_q_vZHn3VgPEUHbXYqIrlt6QVy-K_IXhMqhV50gpRpeLE_sU-JQJXesXmJQo-7xN54Pd5NPRuZcND030QESJMsKvJL0J76N9S0sNwCXtO4c0YxTP1b4_Neu70KMDML/s320/Bill.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />...Bill's been here.<br /> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>*Stay tuned, more mysterious (and silly<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">) </span>stuff to come*</i></span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-10138012060970979402016-03-07T08:22:00.001-08:002016-03-10T09:44:08.230-08:00Borrowed Time<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I was 17 years old I had a life-changing
experience. And, if it wasn’t for a fair bit of dumb luck, or perhaps some divine
intervention, it very well could have been a life-ending experience. Since
then, and for the last 29 years, I’ve always felt a little like I’m living on
borrowed time.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This
story begins, as many do, with a journey. </span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the fall of my senior year in high school I
took a trip to upstate New York with my two friends, Matt and Steve, and even
though it happened almost three decades ago, I remember the details of the trip
like it was yesterday. It wasn’t memorable because these were my best friends
in the world. Or, because I was just one week removed from my first real kiss.
Or, because this was the first time in my life that I'd travelled so far from
home. This trip was memorable because we almost didn’t make it back. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Steve Boland was my best friend in high school. Steve
was also, far and away, the most popular and well-liked kid in our class. He
was a born leader that people were just naturally drawn to. Fun, outgoing,
kind, generous and full of energy. He was short in stature, but his smile and
joie de vivre were infectious. He exuded charisma and confidence. And, as a
result, he had a great many friends. But, no matter how popular Steve became,
when he was hanging out with you, he made you feel like you were the only
friend that mattered. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I’d go over to his house we’d rush upstairs
and pop on whatever Beatles record he was currently grooving on. The Fab Four
were, by far, his favorite band and we’d listen to them for hours in his room.
We talked about school and life and really anything, and nothing, at all. We swam
illegally in nearby Pennichuck Pond - our town’s water reservoir. We bet on
horses, also illegally, at Rockingham Park race track. We “discovered” U2, way
before the rest of our school, gorged ourselves on their music, and saw them
play brilliantly at the Worcester Centrum. We were close. I dare say, like
brothers. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before I met Matt Baldi, I met his sneakers -
red, Converse Chuck Taylors, size 14. I had forgotten mine at home and
desperately needed a pair for my freshman high school gym class. Steve had
recommended that I borrow Matt’s since our feet were of similar size. Or so he
thought. I grabbed them from his open locker and quickly put them on, only to
discover they were about four sizes too big. Needless to say, gym class that
day was a bit more interesting while wearing Matt’s clown shoes. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The following year, Matt and I shared every
single sophomore class together. And, it was the beginning of a beautiful
friendship. He and I were very much alike – tall, shaggy-haired, fairly smart,
painfully shy, and not particularly good looking. Matt, however, was a bit of a
rebellious rogue. He enjoyed Doonesbury instead of the more popular Garfield,
bandited the Boston Marathon on little-to-no training, campaigned for Gary Hart
in a Reagan-era world, and introduced me to the Clash and REM in a time when
Phil Collins and Madonna ruled the airwaves. Those days, Matt and I shared a
lot more than just classes. We ran cross country together, took a few memorable
trips to Stowe, Vermont with our schools ski club, followed the Tour de France
and cheered Greg Lemond during his epic battles with Bernard Hinault. And had even
planned a post-collegiate, cross country, bike trip - down to the finest detail. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On Thanksgiving Eve 1985, the three of us got
together at a pre-turkey day pep rally and bonfire at the ball fields of Bishop
Guertin High School in our hometown of Nashua, New Hampshire. We ironed out our
trip itinerary amid whooping, hollering, and conspicuous alcohol
consumption. The grand plan was to depart the following morning, after
the big football game, and drive straight through to Syracuse where we’d be
staying with a BG alum, and current SU freshman, named Scott. From there we’d
do a day trip to Cornell. Then one more day in Syracuse before heading back
home that Sunday. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After our planning pow-wow, I walked over to the
school’s parking lot to meet up with my new flame, Kris. She was a senior at
our sister school, Mount St. Mary’s Academy. We sat in my car and talked about
the future. She was going to Keene State to become a graphic designer and I was
headed to either Syracuse, or Cornell, to study Architecture. New York? New
Hampshire? Anyway you sliced it, life after senior year was definitely going
to be different. We kissed again as the embers from the bonfire rose ‘til they
joined their brethren stars. We stood on the precipice of something big, and we
knew it. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On Thanksgiving Day, I got behind the wheel of my
family's faux-wood paneled AMC Eagle station wagon, Steve rode shotgun, Matt
was in the back, and we set out on the road. We cruised west along the
Massachusetts Turnpike with Simon & Garfunkel’s Concert in Central Park blaring from the speakers and soothing the
wounds from our school's heartbreaking defeat at the hands of our hated rivals,
the Purple Panthers of Nashua High. We stopped in Amsterdam, NY a sleepy
upstate canal town, to fill the rusty beast with a tank of unleaded and to get
some much needed supplies. Critical items like Pringles, Pepsi, and Hot Tamales. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We arrived on the campus of Syracuse University
in the late afternoon and were greeted by a fresh batch of snow flurries, and
very little else. It was pretty much a ghost town with most of the students electing
to go home for Thanksgiving Break. We found a pay phone and made our first, of
what turned out to be a great many, calls to Scott. No answer. No problem, we
just broke out the snacks, and our Frisbee, and played catch in the quad as the
snow fell silently around us. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Later, as night came on strong and with still no
word from Scott, we went in search of a place to stay. If you’ve never been to
Syracuse, I’ll tell you that there are four distinct areas. The first is the
University, high on the hill. Just below University Hill are the low-income
apartment buildings. Below that further, is downtown. Beyond that, is a massive
suburban sprawl. Where, apparently, everyone else was that evening. Because, as
we cruised the vacant streets of the city looking for accommodations, and
cranking Gimme Shelter by the Stones,
there was not a soul to be found. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eventually, we came across what had to be the
oldest, and most historic, hotel in Syracuse. A uniquely ornate high-rise
affair whose best years were clearly decades behind it. And, since we hadn’t
budgeted any money for accommodations, we coerced Matt to check-in as a single
traveler with Steve and me sneaking into the room afterwards with our luggage.
One on the floor, and two in the bed. With a wall of pillows in between. We
settled down for our first night in the big city. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The next day, when Steve was at his admissions
interview, Matt and I wandered around the enormous campus. We ran laps around
the Carrier Dome, perused the bars on M Street, snuck into the Architecture
School and laid waste to the buffet at the student commons. While Matt checked
out a vintage record store, I wrote a postcard to Kris describing the trip to
that point. Unfortunately, she had the kind of last name which could be spelled
in a number of different ways, and since we had only just met, I didn’t know
which one was correct. Long story short, a few days later a complete stranger,
with a similar last name, must have sat dumbstruck after receiving a picture of
Syracuse’s Hall of Languages and some barely legible musings from a love-sick,
but utterly clueless kid. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Once Steve finished his interview, we decided to get
to the bottom of where Scott was hiding out. So we climbed the 157 steps up to
his dormitory on Mount Olympus, only to find that he’d changed plans and gone
back home to New Hampshire for break. His floor’s RA, Brian Usker, or Usk as he
was known to his friends, broke the bad news to us over a friendly game of
foosball. We were clearly despondent, and had nowhere else to turn, so Usk took
pity on us and offered to let us crash in his room. This time, three on the
floor. Not too comfortable, but at least the price was right. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The next morning, we jumped into the car and
headed south to Cornell for Matt’s interview. While waiting, Steve and I
wandered around Ithaca looking for something to do. Fortunately, with
Steve riding shotgun, there was always
something to do. We rambled around the beautiful and ivy-covered college
campus. Eventually, we found our way to a narrow bridge spanning the Cascadilla
Gorge, which separated the school from the town, and quickly searched for
something to throw off of it. A concrete cinderblock was the object of
choice. We dragged it over to the center of the span and hoisted it over the
edge. It took a while to land, but when it did, the results were spectacular. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After Matt’s interview we drove back up to
Syracuse. Between the three of us we had about 40 dollars left and still needed
a place to stay for one more night. So, we did what any rational teenager in
our position would do. We used half of it buy beer! The only problem was, none
of us had ID. So we asked a total stranger to buy for us. He eagerly accepted. Naturally.
Fifteen minutes, one prostitute proposition, and two attempted drug sales later,
we realized we weren’t going to be getting any beer. Or, our 20 bucks back for
that matter. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of course, the remaining 20 didn’t buy us much in
the way of deluxe accommodations. So, we drove over to the Al-Bel. A
rent-by-the-hour, flea-bag motel on the outskirts of town. Unfortunately for
Matt, it was his turn on the floor - a stained and wrinkled carpet with an as
yet undetermined odor. But Matt, always up for a challenge, accepted his fate
with dignity and fell asleep quickly - joined by God knows what else during the
night. I, on the other hand, lay wide awake. Staring at the damaged ceiling and
thinking about what I would be facing during my college interview the following day. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the morning, I showered off as much of the
motel smell as I could and set out for my appointment on the hill. The
interview itself was pretty standard stuff, at first. Then, as we were starting
to wrap it up, my interviewer asked me, “Are you saved?” Seeing that I was
obviously stunned with the complexity of this question, she kindly rephrased
it. “I see here on your high school transcript that you are a member of the Fellowship
of Christian Athletes. Do you believe that God has saved a place for you next
to him in heaven?” </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the extra moment, or two, that it took for her
to re-ask the question I formulated the best, and most scholarly answer I could
come up with. I said that I didn’t think my membership in the Catholic religion
would necessarily guarantee me a place in heaven. But, if I continued to lead a
good life and follow God’s teachings, I definitely liked my chances. “Good
answer!” she said. And with that, the interview and our visit to Syracuse was
over. I gathered up Steve and Matt, and we headed back east on the New York
Thruway. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For some reason, we ended up getting a late start
back. The sky grew dark just an hour out of town. The discussion in the car
drifted from the happenings of the weekend to the topics of the songs on the
mix tape that Matt had put together. And as the flurries began to fall again,
John Lennon came on the radio singing, “God
is a concept by which we measure our pain…” So, our conversation was
immediately directed towards the very existence and nature of God. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Still a bit pre-occupied by the poignant line of questioning
during my interview, I chose to focus all my attention on guiding the car
though the ever increasing whiteness while Matt and Steve expressed their
individual views. Suddenly, as we were crossing a river over what seemed to be an
extremely high bridge, a strong gust of wind pushed the car to the right and I
naturally over-corrected left, sending us fish-tailing and eventually into a
full-speed tailspin on the newly-formed black ice. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I really don’t know how many times that car spun
around, but it had to have been at least a half dozen. With each rotation I
could see that we were getting closer and closer to the guardrail on the edge
of the bridge. And, with each rotation, I could also see that a jack-knifed
semi-truck was right behind us and equally out of control. Guardrail. Semi. Guardrail.
Semi. All of this in life-flashing slow motion. I honestly thought this was it.
We were going to die. Right there. On a wind-swept spit of pavement, in the
middle of nowhere. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Remarkably, the car came to an abrupt stop on the
edge of the road, just beyond the bridge, after having neither crashed through
the guardrail nor into the tractor-trailer, who had also seemed to right
himself. I slowly eased back onto the gas, my eyes as wide a saucers, looking
for somewhere safe to turn off and maybe find a place to change my shorts. When
to my amazement I saw through the blizzard a sign which read “Amsterdam - 1
Mile”. We were saved! I’m not sure I’ve ever been so happy. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I pulled into the nearest lot I could find, which
just happened to be a Sheraton Inn, and said, “That’s it. We’re stopping here!”
My compatriots quickly agreed. I called my parents to let them know what had
happened and to tell them that we’d be using the “emergency credit card” that
evening. We checked in, ordered room service and washed away the day’s events
in the hotel hot tub and over-sized swimming pool. What the heck! You only live
once. Right? </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The next day we completed the rest of our journey
back to Nashua in almost reverent silence. We stopped by our school on the way
home to gather our books and missed homework assignments. Somehow everything
around us seemed different. Smaller. We had just completed the trip of a
lifetime. We had cheated death and lived to tell the tale. Nothing would ever be the same. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The next year, we made the long trek back to upstate
New York once again. This time, Steve and I were beginning our freshman years
at Syracuse and Matt was bound for Cornell. While at school, Matt discovered what
turned out to be one of his life’s greatest passions - rowing. And it happened somewhat
by accident. A recruiter stopped him on the way to class one day and asked him
if he wanted to try out for the Cornell crew team. Matt was quite lanky and
apparently that came in handy for rowing. So, he gave it a shot and was
immediately hooked. Unfortunately, by his own admission, he put a little too
much time into his sport, at the expense of his school work, and by his
sophomore year he was forced to drop out of the engineering program at Cornell
and transfer to The University of New Hampshire. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The following winter, the three of us we were
reunited once again. But, this time, under much more stunning circumstances. Steve
was coming home for Christmas after spending a semester in England – home of
his beloved Beatles. He never made it back. On December 21st 1988, Steve’s plane,
Pan Am Flight 103, exploded over the skies of Lockerbie, Scotland - killing all
259 on board and 11 more on the ground. Matt, myself and all the people whose
lives Steve had touched (and there were quite a few of us) were devastated by
this unspeakable tragedy. At the memorial service, Matt was in charge of the
music, and it was all we could both do to keep from completely breaking down. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The next time I saw Matt was five years later
during a frantic, last-minute Christmas shopping trip to the mall. In the
intervening years, he and his parents had moved to Peaks Island, Maine and Matt
had turned his passion for rowing into a passion for boat building - a hobby he
shared with his Dad. We sheepishly made small talk, both embarrassed by the
distance that had grown between us. I had gotten married and had a kid, with
another on the way, and for some reason he still seemed ashamed about dropping
out of Cornell. As we parted ways once more, we promised to do a better job of
keeping in touch. Unfortunately, that was the last I ever saw of Matt. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On the morning of June 10th 1994, Matt parked his
Volkswagen Jetta at Odiorne Point State Park, unloaded his hand-crafted kayak
from atop his vehicle, slipped silently into the surf and was gone. We’ll never
know what happened that fateful day off the coast of Rye, New Hampshire. The
official report was that he became hypothermic and drowned after somehow getting
separated from his boat. Personally, I’d like to think that a rogue wave came
by and claimed him as one of its own. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It’s now 20 years later and I still think about
Matt and Steve quite a bit. I think about them and I miss them. I remember what
great friends they were, the fun we had together, and the lives they left
behind. Yes, I remember that epic Thanksgiving trip to Syracuse. But I also remember
the stupid stuff. Like streaking at the Nashua Country Club in front of a
four-some of bewildered golfers, or sneaking bulk snacks from Shaw’s
Supermarket, or seeing if we could drink from all the water fountains in our
high school during the two minutes we had between periods, or even the day I
spent in Matt’s oversized shoes.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not surprisingly, that 5-day trip we made
together, and the devastating losses that followed, shaped almost every aspect
of my life. From the way I parent, to the way I treat people, to the way I
think about myself, my goals, and my dreams. It taught me that my life is a
finite one and if I want to make the most of it I need to begin now. Today. I’m
sad that my friends are gone, but I’m grateful to them for having left me with
a burning desire to succeed and the essential knowledge that the key to my
success can be found within. Sure, during that time I’ve done some things that
others might think are crazy. But, I know my free-spirited friends would most
definitely approve.</span></span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In
the years since they’ve both been gone, I’ve tried to lead a good and full life
in their memory. I trust that God is watching, but if he isn’t, I know that
Steve and Matt certainly are. I hope that I’ve made them proud of the kind of
person, friend, and father that I’ve become. And, when my "borrowed
time" does eventually run out, I look forward to the three of us getting
back together for more great and epic adventures. Because, no one has friends
like that anymore. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At least not me, anyway.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzUph4yRQGDa1tx96-yDwcAWVK37f0dc_kUZoVxwOvR5-Cbp-XsE3_7D7kEzXYNvutQMArfsmaaSlrlr-pXGl0z4UCzyhSMNF4o63U8kRHA3UQSWX9CZ3mM9Ld-qXqJ0CPC1yjiFAAE2M/s1600/12499097_10206013649285147_1388096333_o.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzUph4yRQGDa1tx96-yDwcAWVK37f0dc_kUZoVxwOvR5-Cbp-XsE3_7D7kEzXYNvutQMArfsmaaSlrlr-pXGl0z4UCzyhSMNF4o63U8kRHA3UQSWX9CZ3mM9Ld-qXqJ0CPC1yjiFAAE2M/s400/12499097_10206013649285147_1388096333_o.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
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Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-24820950269316353862016-03-06T13:08:00.000-08:002016-03-06T13:08:06.073-08:00Family Reunion<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We drove down to Portland on Saturday to meet our oldest son and daughter who drove up from Boston and Durham respectively. We stayed overnight at a hotel. Which the little ones loves. We ate, drank, shopped, and swam. It was a great weekend. And now, Ellsworth has never felt so far away.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-50618075552374219602016-03-04T09:03:00.000-08:002016-03-04T09:08:26.542-08:00Redemption<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One of the many differences between Maine and New Hampshire is that Maine is one of the few (10) states in the nation with a</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Returnable Beverage Container Program, or "<b><a href="http://maine.gov/dep/sustainability/bottlebill/index.html" target="_blank">Bottle Bill</a></b>". This State Legislation (which includes glass, metal, and plastic beverage containers) is designed to r</span><span style="font-size: large;">educe litter, conserve resources, and save energy.<br /><br />The way it works is that consumers pay 5 cents extra for each container they purchase.<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> T</span>hat 5 cents goes to the retailer, who gives it to the manufacturer, who gives it to the redemption center, who gives it back to the consumer when the bottle is returned. It's like the leave a penny take a penny deal. That 5 cents just keeps going round and round, and no one actually makes any money from it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">EXCEPT, for the redemption centers which receive a 4 cent "handling fee" from the manufacturers - wh<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ic</span>h helps cover the cost of sorting the containers, I suppose.<br /><br />The other side benefit to the bottle bill (besides the whole helping the environment thing) is that every time I go to the grocery store and see people stuffing <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">garbage bags full of</span> used beverage containers into the redemption receptacles, I get to enjoy the funky/sweet smell of old beer and soda fermenting together in the pores of the machine.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Which is nice.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /> </span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-40716501418449708872016-03-03T12:24:00.002-08:002016-03-03T12:26:23.002-08:00Common Beauty<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">corner</span> of Maine is filled with such natural beauty that I wonder, to a certain extent, if it becomes commonplace to the people who have lived here for a while.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thankfully, I'm not one of those people just yet, so every trip to someplace new is a unique opportunity for me to experience something randomly beautiful. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Take for example my <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">visit</span> to Blue Hill today. I had some time to kill between appointments so I took off down a road I'd never driven before. And, lo and behold, I see this out my driver side <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">window</span>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Just a random island on the edge of Blue Hill Bay. Probably doesn't even have a name. Locals most likely refer to it as island #1,375,601 - if they even refer to it at all. But, to me, it was so strikingly beautiful that I just had to stop and snap a picture of it.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's to hoping we never get so comfortable here as to find this view to be anything less than extraordinary. </span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-26506505432989358822016-03-02T13:37:00.001-08:002016-03-02T13:37:44.957-08:00Creative Cardboarding<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Recently, Ethan said, "Daddy, I want to make a Jeep out of cardboard." And so that's just what we did! We took one of the MANY moving boxes out of our garage and cut, glued, and colored it to look like a Jeep Wrangler.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At first he used it to sit in, and pretend to drive. Then we cut a hole in the bottom for him to really "drive" it around the house. It was a fun, cheap, rainy-day project. He was very proud of it. And, I really enjoyed working on it with him.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Next time he wants to build a motorcycle. <br /><br />Yup, I'm in trouble.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20Eru94bb8u-Luz0zt28FeychkrlkuItULP07IIZaNMzJhmP5fKRPzjxnfYJxEsno8v1LtFNUrIrGd70Y_Gbdcvy3ZC6l5Dny3SZt1gekznw2-DIvDsw9qAV0uwHSdUiWyrXfB1Wx3wNG/s1600/12746533_10206266440484769_915816141_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20Eru94bb8u-Luz0zt28FeychkrlkuItULP07IIZaNMzJhmP5fKRPzjxnfYJxEsno8v1LtFNUrIrGd70Y_Gbdcvy3ZC6l5Dny3SZt1gekznw2-DIvDsw9qAV0uwHSdUiWyrXfB1Wx3wNG/s400/12746533_10206266440484769_915816141_n.jpg" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
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Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-71046549497560599102016-03-01T10:23:00.001-08:002016-03-01T10:23:31.703-08:00Leap Day Loop<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I took full advantage of the unseasonably warm weather yesterday (not to mention the extra February day) and went for a hike in Acadia. I started at the <b><a href="https://www.gaiagps.com/map/Asticou%20Map%20House/#?lat=44.3048&lon=-68.2786&zoom=14" target="_blank">Asticou Map House</a></b> and went in a clockwise direction (around <b><a href="http://acadiajordanpondhouse.com/" target="_blank">Jordan Pond</a></b>) hitting 4 new (for me) mountain peaks - Cedar Swamp, Sargent, Penobscot, and Pemetic.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">New summits meant lots of new trails. My favorite was the easy flowing, and beautifully maintained Asticou / Jordan Pond Path at the end of my trip. Note the photos below and you'll see what I mean </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I ended up doing around 12 miles total, in a little more than 4 hours, which I thought was pretty good. And only saw one other person in that entire time. It was quite windy near the summits, and there was just a little ice in some of the shadier spots, but otherwise it was a pretty easy go of it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All in all, it was a wonderful day on the trails. And, I feel very fortunate to have had the time to explore Acadia at my leisure during the week, while the kids are in school. I know this will soon change because I really need to find a part-time job, but it's been fun while it's lasted.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And, Acadia will still be there on the weekends, I suppose.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0W2sKDDcU20iDt2PIoOSpk7lsDE-N-BmjtV_L-pr48paOi8t1wVUABea-c3oOFcwPRsJu_qOTWVnNaOJs8aSpmsrMcLsBFTvzQAZ7yNUj4JYzLBBVETqa5Gz3Vx2GfJ0JcdgR_accfuB/s1600/12822670_10206357706526363_2131982476_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0W2sKDDcU20iDt2PIoOSpk7lsDE-N-BmjtV_L-pr48paOi8t1wVUABea-c3oOFcwPRsJu_qOTWVnNaOJs8aSpmsrMcLsBFTvzQAZ7yNUj4JYzLBBVETqa5Gz3Vx2GfJ0JcdgR_accfuB/s400/12822670_10206357706526363_2131982476_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-1167446832629938952016-02-29T10:23:00.000-08:002016-03-01T10:27:55.751-08:00Fashion Queen<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, our little Emily is turning into quite the little fashion designer. This weekend she spent a couple hours up in her room working away. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And, when she emerged, this is what she showed us...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">... Not bad for a 9-year old. Don't you think?</span></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644273473373166068.post-798483028952305622016-02-28T06:40:00.000-08:002016-02-28T06:40:07.872-08:00Bumming Around Bar Harbor <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was a beautiful day yesterday, so we loaded up the car (with kids and snacks) and headed over to Bar Harbor for the afternoon. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was our first time going there as a family in the "off-season" and it was pretty much a ghost town. A very different experience from visiting in the fall. Plenty of places to park, no pedestrians, and almost nothing open. We walked around a bit, checked out the library, and goofed around in the town square.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eventually we found one open coffee shop, had a quick hot chocolate, then jumped back in the car for a short ride around the one part of loop road that was open - Schooner Head to Otter Creek. It was beautiful, as always, but just a little too windy and cold to do much of anything with the kids - who were already going stir crazy in the car.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">However, we did manage to get one keeper of a shot before heading back to E-town...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHUNxVFjJXGUs076qhPaq9fTI-rhQij1p3FQ2UHaitvFyr3ea8K__wWJiZKQokp2_SFQ-2z7EqoYAi0DggALYa_Wes99x9aMd4uAeWqV4V5W1uFYhW2OlI8soTRroJr1qwLKAvyV_ey-V/s1600/12788423_10206344456035109_1032984773_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHUNxVFjJXGUs076qhPaq9fTI-rhQij1p3FQ2UHaitvFyr3ea8K__wWJiZKQokp2_SFQ-2z7EqoYAi0DggALYa_Wes99x9aMd4uAeWqV4V5W1uFYhW2OlI8soTRroJr1qwLKAvyV_ey-V/s1600/12788423_10206344456035109_1032984773_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHUNxVFjJXGUs076qhPaq9fTI-rhQij1p3FQ2UHaitvFyr3ea8K__wWJiZKQokp2_SFQ-2z7EqoYAi0DggALYa_Wes99x9aMd4uAeWqV4V5W1uFYhW2OlI8soTRroJr1qwLKAvyV_ey-V/s400/12788423_10206344456035109_1032984773_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01226124042632555108noreply@blogger.com0