Some Beach

With only days to go before I'll be laying on the beach, I've been scrambling to get everything ready. I dropped Tilly off at the vet this morning, got my car half loaded, but still have to put most of my things in a suitcase and have been hustling at work all week to get everything done so nobody's cursing my name next week for not having everything done. All of this has made me more ready for a break than I've been in weeks...so when I heard this song on the radio, I laughed. Not because it's another country wordplay song (although the irony of writing about this song after criticizing the trend last week is not lost on me), but because this is how I feel this week. I'm MORE than ready to be on some beach somewhere.

Dear Country Music, Enough with the word play....

I love word play as much as the next guy. Get more of a kick out of it than most people, probably, but I think the writers of country music need to tone it down a bit. Right now on the country charts, you'll find the following examples: Beers Ago (I actually have more of an issue with the number of "beers ago" he uses in this one - 1452, thats it? really?), Corn Star and Truck Yeah. Get it? Like Years Ago, Porn Star and well, you know. It's embarassing. Take your time and come up with something you can be proud of.

Here's Truck Yeah by Tim McGraw. Tim Trucking McGraw! Come on Tim, you're 45 years old. The lyrics to this are ridiculous.

Why tubing is like death...

Before we get to that, let me fill you in briefly on the rest of our weekend. Robby and I took the dogs (both of them...yes, this includes Tilly) up to the lake for the weekend. This was a gutsy move on our part. Robby was sure Sydney would drown and that was almost best-case scenario for Tilly, in my mind. Okay, not really! I thought she'd be OK if we could get her in the water but didn't know what to expect on dry land, in a new place with so much to see and smell and do. Let me assure you before I begin that both dogs survived the weekend. I know some of you were worried (or had your fingers crossed...).
It took some coaxing to get both dogs in the water. While they both clearly wanted in, they weren't sure about the jump from the pier we were suggesting. After a little pushing, literally, they were swimming. {I'm trying to locate some pictures of this, but most of them were taken by Lexi (she's 3) on my mom's phone, which means the quality is questionable and I'm not sure when they'll get sent to me.} After getting their feet wet in front of our house, we decided to venture out to the sand bar. The sand bar is shallow enough near the shore that the dogs could stand which we thought they would enjoy because the swimming was exhausting. They did love it, and Tilly was surprisingly calm in the water. Kyle* even asked if she was always this calm or if it was the water. I wanted to say she was always calm, but I couldn't do it with a straight face. Sydney was a little tense at first...she has more common sense than Tilly and recognized that being in a large body of water where she couldn't find the bottom should be unnerving...but gained confidence as the day went on. Tilly on the other hand, quickly showed her true colors by chasing a flock of ducks from the shore to way too far into the lake to be safe. She was too fast for me to catch her so Kyle had to rescue her from the monsters in the middle of the lake. So we learned she's fast in the water as well as on land. Super.
By the end of this excursion the dogs were climbing on the boat (sometimes with a boost) and jumping off with regularity. All in all, a good time was had by all. The dogs took a long nap after this giving the people time for relaxing, tubing, etc. Mom, Laura and the little girls were there when we all arrived (Kyle met us from Chicago), and they stayed for the dog's swimming exhibition, but left before tubing, etc. I can only assume that they, too, were worn out. I was worn out but managed to stay the course. So now we had the boat to ourselves (insert evil laugh here) and hours until the sun set. This is when we decided tubing would be a good idea.

Top to bottom: Kyle, Robby, Karli

I should preface this by saying that tubing has never been my favorite activity. I took about a 15 year hiatus from the activity from 1996-2011. My BFF in middle school had a lake house so we were up there a much as we could be in the summer and everyone loved to tube. I wasn't as strong then as I am now and fell off a lot and thought it hurt. I was coerced into jumping back on the tube last summer when Dad bought the boat. I prefer riding with small children so nobody can intentionally throw me from the tube, but it turns out I'm stronger than I used to be (specifically, I have oddly strong hands) and am good at staying on. When I'm riding with another person, I'm never the one to fall first. I may flip the thing, but I won't let go until I have to. This brings us to my most recent tubing revelation...
Tubing is like death.
This weekend there were just three of us out so we were riding solo so one of us could drive and the other could keep watch. Being out there alone, I had some time alone with my thoughts. So when you're on a tube, the majority of the ride is pretty fun {much like life}. You're flying around, going fast...it's challenging at times, but for the most part you don't hate it. Then it starts to get rocky. You know the end is coming. Water is flying in your face and you're starting to lose control. You don't know which way the boat is turning, which way you should lean. Should I be on my knees or my belly? I'm just trying to hold on. Then it happens: you hit that big wave and you're gone. You're flipping off the tube then hit the water hard and are forced under water. This hurts. After what seems like much longer than the 3 seconds it probably actually is, you pop up and you're floating in the lake. The tube is gone, the waves are gone, you're in the water, the sun is shining on you, and it's just peace. 

Kyle and Robby Floating

It's Tuesday, my muscles are still sore and I have bruises all over my legs, but we had a good time and the dogs had a good time (Sydney's also still sore...Tilly's miraculously recovered) so I'm calling it worth it. 

*This is Kyle, Robby's friend, not Kyle my brother. It can be confusing.

Won't You Step into the Freezer

Phish 2012

About three years ago, I wrote this about my first Phish show. I just read it for the first time in years and have to humbly admit that I'm impressed with myself. Not only is the writing exceptionally entertaining, but it's fun to relive my initial exposure to Phish. Since that time, I've seen three more shows. This is a very sad number in Phish terms. Just to give you some perspective, the guys in front of us Thursday night were at their 320th show. I didn't dare tell them it was my 3rd. I just nodded along like yeah, man, that's about what I'm at, too. We were in the pit, for crying out loud, I couldn't act like an amateur. So I've now seen four Phish shows (not even enough to use numerals according to the APA) and a couple of live webcasts, which I think should almost count... Maybe for half a show. They're filmed with nine high definition cameras. It's like you're there. So I'm up to 5 1/2 shows now (I only got to use numerals that time because of the fraction), and feel like much more of a seasoned fan than I did in 2009. I've listened to a lot more music, know a lot more songs, followed the band on twitter, kept track of set lists, etc. I'm not quite touring with the band, but I'm like one virtual step away from that. Anyway, here's a recap of this year's experience:

Phish was at Deer Creek* Thurday and Friday night. We went to both shows. Friday we were in the lawn. Phish is fun in the lawn. There is plenty of dancing, glow sticks, illegal drugs** and free love. I enjoy the scene. Thursday night we were in the pit. Please see the illistration below for clarification if you are not familiar with "the pit". The pit is the red area touching the stage.

The lawn is casual. The pit is serious. Glow sticks and beach balls are considered frivolous in the pit and get handed off to security to avoid disrupting our very serious musical experience. Thursday night we arrived in plenty of time. Robby met me at my office, which is a stone's throw from Deer Creek, and we walked from there. It was 110 degrees outside. I was sure I was going to die by the time we made it to the gate, after first being redirected from the first gate which was not yet open. Fortunately, we found some shade where I was able to recouperate. So it's 110 degrees and we're making our way towards the pit. We get to the entrance gate minutes before they opened so we were ready to claim a prime spot in the general admission pit. We didn't run or anything, but made our way straight there after stopping for beverages. The front row, or "the rail", was occupied by very important people with pink bracelets. It seems that VIP gets you early access. But there was room in what would be the second row. We found a spot we liked and sat down. After some time had passed, we managed to befriend a couple of the VIPs, who aren't really all that important, they were just willing to pay an extra $50 or something for additional access..and to make themselves feel cool. Once they were convinced that we (at least Robby) were real fans with our his knowledge of setlists from previous decades. I, again, was just nodding along like I'd been to 300 shows and remembered every set. We told them it was our first time in the pit and they took us under their wing. They were pros...They didn't leave their spot once in the five hours we were there, and anybody who came within 3 feet of their space, even hot girls, got booted harshly. If they weren't also kicking people out of my space, I might have thought they were jerks, but they were on my team so I thought they were cool. So under the protection of the biggest a-holes in the crowd, we were able to watch the whole show, undisturbed, an armslength from the band. It's a different show from that close. It's more engaging...it makes you feel like you are a part of the show. Like what you do matters. Trey could see me. It's like we're connected to the band now. Like somehow we exist in their world in a way we never did before. It's heavy stuff.

Neither night disappointed as the band delivered unique set lists and rarely heard songs. So good that I didn't even have to mention the fact that I forgot the tickets and we had to turn back once we got within 5 miles of the venue. That was the night we were in the lawn and miraculously, the storm pushed back sound check which pushed back Doors which gave us time to make the round trip and get the tickets. It was touch-and-go there for a while, but somehow it all worked out. And clearly, I couldn't resist telling the forgot the tickets story. Stay tuned for more weekend updates and enjoy the encore.

*The Phish Heads still call it Deer Creek. I respect that.
**I don't do drugs, I'm just somewhat fascinated by the lives lived by those who do.

The Big 3-0

Clearly not doing so great keeping up with the blog this year. My sincere apologies. Shockingly, I have not been overwhelmed with e-mails and calls begging for a new post, but I'm assuming you are all just shy and secretly checking for a new post every day so here you go. In general, I write less when I'm happy so  take it as a good sign that I haven't had time to write because I'm so busy living my blissful life. Unfortunately, I've also noticed when reading back through this blog - and even my old diaries - that the writing is much better when I'm unhappy so keep your expectations reasonable... but I'm bored and have 20 minutes to kill so here goes.

I didn't write a post for my 30th birthday so I think that's what I'm going to do with this. Give you something inspirational. I've been building up to this birthday for years, literally, (See here and here) and don't think I should just brush past it like it was nothing. Turns out though that despite the fact that turning 30 seemed like a big deal when I was 27, its a much smaller deal when you're 29 1/2. Just as I've found with every other birthday up to now, by the time it got here I was ready for it. And while I may not have it all figured out, I'm on my way.

I'm resisting the urge to fill you in on everything that's happened since I last wrote. I have old diary entries filled with pages of catch-up, with no mention of what was happening that motivated me to write in the first place. So just follow me on Instagram @karlishondell. I'm loving instagram right now.

Old Dogs, Children and Watermelon Wine

A little old-time country for your Friday afternoon. I heard it on the radio.


"Ain't but three things in this world that's worth a solitary dime,
But old dogs and children and watermelon wine."
....
"That night I dreamed in peaceful sleep of shady summertime,
Of old dogs and children and watermelon wine."

Great Potential



Here's the Link

This article is from today's Purdue Exponent (That's the school paper. I don't think it's award winning...but I could be wrong).   Reading it, there were a few things I remembered about how my dad got his job that didn't make the article. I'm going to share those things here.
Quick frame of reference: I was a junior at Ball State so obviously very busy doing super cool things and not living at home, but my parents were still in Muncie so I saw them regularly. Also, you should know that I have a very sporadic memory. There are years of my life that I don't have any memory of living. Back to my dad. I don't really remember learning that he was interested in the job or even hearing that he got an interview or the story about Roger being late. I do remember him preparing for an interview, but I'm thinking that could be the interview with the committee that he references. I really just remember three things.
1) Power Point Presentation - He put together a power point presentation and I remember proof-reading it. It was full of exceedingly optimistic charts and graphs demonstrating exactly how he was going to turn the program around, and, personally, I thought it was a little bit over the top, but Dad did not. Go big or go home, I guess, and turns out that it worked.
2) Networking - In the article he said he went overboard soliciting phone calls, which I think is probably the one factor (if I had to pick one) that got him the job: The glowing recommendations. He had every volleyball coach who might matter call, of course, and then just anybody else who might have any influence. I remember him standing in the narthex during (maybe after, but probably during) soliciting a call from a John Purdue Club heavy hitter, whom I should probably know because I should know the names of all of the elders I went to church with at that time, but I do not.
3) I Quit - This one could be an old wives tale because I was not there to witness it, but it's one of my favorite parts of the story. Dad was teaching middle school PE and health at this time, but once he got the call that he got the job, he quit. From what I'm told, Kyle, the middle-schooler, had to clean out his office, and as the article reports, he was on Purdue's campus the next day.
Now what the article doesn't say is that he lived in student housing for months before they could buy a house and was driving back and forth to Muncie a couple times a week. He immediately started building a program.

So I just found this, the highlight video from 2003, while looking for their record that first year. Their record wasn't impressive enough to share although I believe they finished around 8th in the Big Ten, which was a great improvement from 11th. The video's a little long, but watch a little bit of it. If you've been to a game recently, you can see how far we've come and some great potential for the future. Plus my dad looks a lot younger.