Ptooey!

Hey, what's with all the spitting?

I don't know if I've just been in the wrong place at the wrong time lately, but there seems to be a surplus of saliva among many of the men in this area. I'm stopped at the red light, the door of the truck in front of me opens and -- splat! -- out the door comes a juicy stream of spit onto the pavement just in time for the light to change. I'm walking into Wal-Mart and I happen to look down upon a wad of gooey spit glimmering in the sun. I turned onto I-40 at Sandy Ridge Rd. and up there on the hill at the RV superstore, a man hocks one over the chain-link fence. It happened again today... this time the offender was a dad walking up to the school to pick up his kid, who -- almost certainly if the kid is a boy -- will inherit this moist habit from his father.

And note, I said if the kid is a boy. I haven't seen any girls spitting. Is this some kind of prove-my-masculinity thing among men? If anyone can explain it to me -- dryly, please -- I wish they would.

So close you can smell it!

At the risk of rubbing it in to my northern friends who are still shivering in the snow, I spent two hours sitting on my deck late this afternoon, watching the birds and sipping a glass of wine. The sun was shining brightly, temps were in the upper 60s and a nice breeze with an occasional gust was blowing. Each day a few more leaves are popping out on the trees, the Bradford pears and crabapples are straining to bloom, the grass is greening up, and the frogs that live down in the creekbed behind the house are singing loudly. It's an exciting time and I'm looking forward to the day my feathered friends who flew south for the winter migrate their way back into my yard. Then it'll be spring for sure! I'll keep you posted.

Donuts and spring training

The Stay Alert Safety Mets of the Kernersville Little League had their first practice this evening and I have to say, the six kids who showed up actually don't look that bad. It seems spring training has come early this year. Sure, we had temperatures in the low 60s today, but as practice started the sun was setting and winds were probably in the area of 20mph, causing Wesley's mom, Karen, and me to grimace more than once.

Karen works for Krispy Kreme. I'm working on a plot to get all the chocolate-covered creme-filled donuts I can stuff down my neck. She says she could work that if I get her a couple of Kenny Chesney tickets. Sounds like a good trade to me! I have my doubts as to whether the boss would go for it, though...