Auburn


1
Feb 12

This feels like it is full of adjectives

You want to have a scintillating class? You give a very detailed view of the art of resume building. Oh the kids always love that class. I get to tell them how long I’ve been writing those things, and give tips and tricks and ideas. I tell war stories and share the advice of others. I show off great resumes and let them make fun at mine. We talk about what not to put on this important piece of paper. Oh, it is riveting.

Did that today. And if that reads sarcastic it shouldn’t, I actually enjoy the day we talk about resumes. I get to think fondly back upon all the people that have helped me write and edit them over the years. Those were big favors. I’m glad to be able to do it for others as part of a class.

Also scheduled a lot of field trips today. Scheduled some guest speakers. Signed a lot of paperwork. Met a new section editor. Wrote a lot. Read a great deal. Had too much lunch, two good class sessions and got rained on a fair amount. Or drizzled on, at least.

A cold drizzle is the worst liquid precipitation when it comes to morale. It could just rain, which is something you can be in for a moment and then laugh about. It could sprinkle, and those drops you can avoid. The heavens could open and a monsoon descend into the small pond you didn’t realize you were standing in — at least we have the good sense to stay inside when that happens. But drizzle? A drizzle you feel like you can just walk through without consequence. Then you get back inside and see the impact on your slacks and think at least I’m not wearing cashmere.

Drizzle is the fog form with a fear of commitment, the undercooked and runny part of a day’s weather. Who needs drizzle?

Links: On my journalism blog at Samford the past few days I’ve written about the end run around journalists, the history of yellow journalism, found a reminder about the importance of audio and linked to Frank LoMonte’s terrific reaction to Ward v. Polite.

At TWER Jeremy asked me to rewrite my most famous open letter on National Signing Day. I am no fan of recruitment or signing day in general, but I believe in the promise of what it should be, which is the spirit from which that letter originates. It is the easiest thing to do. I’ve written it three years in a row now and I’m not smart enough to know how to improve upon it. So I polish it and move a few things around. I try to remove unnecessary words, but this time four or five extras made their way into it. It manages to stir the alumni set, though, so that’s good. Maybe it’ll drift into the intended hands one day, too. It does good traffic, he says.

Maybe some of them have surfed back this way. Did you? Thanks for visiting!


29
Jan 12

Catching up

This is the weekly opportunity to post a lot of pictures that haven’t yet landed elsewhere on the site. Here’s a handful, there are even more in the January photo gallery.

One day one of the gymnasts will leap into the air and forget to land:

Gymnastics

Look at the expressions on her teammates’ faces in the background:

Gymnastics

Nobody has more fun on the floor than Bri Guy:

Gymnastics

In the Hunt Seat arena. Horses jump things there, and this is currently the extent of my ability to comment on the sport intelligently. I’ll have to fix that:

Equestrian

I’ve never seen Nosa Eguae anywhere around town where he didn’t have a handful of people come talk to him. He likes equestrian events, too, apparently:

Nosa

Oklahoma State’s team is called the Cowgirls. The name is bejeweled on the back of their outfits. It was in juxtaposition of all of their serious, championship-caliber riders. You can just see her championship belt buckle in this shot:

Equestrian

Stop! This is part of the routine:

Equestrian

On today’s big bike ride, mile 20, middle of nowhere and feeling fine:

Cycling

At 26.4 miles in I’ve already gotten lost, figured out where I missed a turn and thought to myself “You’ve always wanted to see what is happening in Crawford. Press on …”

Here’s Crawford in a nutshell, an unincorporated community of perhaps less than 1,000 people, it was settled in 1832, as Crocketsville. A few decades later the state legislature changed the name. It boasts one of the oldest Masonic lodges in the state. A prominent church was built in 1910 using bricks from the original county courthouse. You can apparently see some of the workers’ (slaves mostly) handprints in those old courthouse bricks now making up the church.

Didn’t see that church, I was going in the wrong direction. Not sure about the history of this building though:

Cycling

Nothing happening at the local co-op, about 34 miles into the ride:

Cycling

I don’t know if the church planners put this place up with an idea of how the sunsets would play, but it worked out for them:

Cycling

This next picture is 41 miles into my ride. I’ve been here before — behind where I’m standing as the photographer there is a gas station full of nice people that sold me Gatorade one hot summer day last year — but I didn’t notice this advertisement:

Cycling

It is safe to say this mural is pre-1980, when Texaco drilled on Louisiana’s Lake Pelgneur and accidentally pierced the roof of the Diamond Crystal salt dome beneath the lake:

Within seven hours the entire 1,100-acre lake was empty and two drilling rigs, a tugboat, eleven barges, a barge loading-dock, seventy acres of Jefferson Island and its botanical gardens, parts of greenhouses, a house trailer, trucks, tractors, a parking lot, tons of mud and trees and three dogs had disappeared into the sinkhole at the bottom of the lake. The whole scene was described by witnesses as resembling a draining bathtub with boats bobbing around like toys before being sucked under. About 30 shrimp boats that were in the canal were beached as the canal emptied into the sinkhole, and were refloated later when the lake and canal refilled with water. Nine of the eleven barges would eventually pop back to the surface. Amazingly, no human life was lost in this spectacular accident.

What does that say? I haven’t been able to afford exterior paint in 30 years? No one has come along and offered to make it say “See Rock City”? I really like salt and my sodium levels are unfortunately high?

For more Jefferson Island murals, go here.

I wanted to do 60 miles today. This is with about 14 miles to go, and it was the last I would see of the sun:

Cycling

I managed to get 52 miles. It was dark and cold. When you can’t see the bumps in the road you call it an evening. And then you put on several layers to warm up.


28
Jan 12

Not sure what is happening here

Equestrian is a new sport for me.

Jumping

The horses jumped and performed various routines to demonstrate riders’ command over the animals. Some of the things going on in the Hunt Seat arena will need some official explanation for, but things seems a little more straightforward in the Western area, where we saw dramatic stopping:

Jumping

All I can say is that defending national champion, top-ranked Auburn hosted and beat fourth-ranked Oklahoma State. They announced scores for individual routines, but those must somehow get folded into the overall meet, which Auburn won 11-8. Also, in the Western arena, there were a lot of world champion and American youth champion belt buckles.

There’s a lot going on there, a lot to learn. And I’m guessing the visiting team is always at a disadvantage since they’re working horses they’ve never ridden before.

I’d suggest a great, clownish scoring seminar at the beginning of the meet. It’d work wonders for the kids — who rode ponies, bounced in a moonwalk and participated in stick-horse races — and people like me. We were eavesdropping on other conversations to pick up bits and pieces of the technique and strategy. I came away thinking the home team should wear white hats and the visiting team should wear black, just so you’d know good from bad. (No one is bad, of course, but we’re dealing with western imagery here.)

Beautiful day to be outside, though, and lots of great pictures for tomorrow.


27
Jan 12

A car tale and a gymnastics story

I have a busted headlight. Moisture somehow got into the plastic headlight assembly and apparently the teardrop of a mosquito means doom for the bulb. I tried last week to replace the bulb myself, but I drive a Nissan, which means you must remove the fender well from the bumper to access the headlights. Even then, there would be problems. That wouldn’t remove the moisture, so we’d be right back here in two days.

So I bit the bullet to see about getting it done professionally. (The next time you are on the market for a car, add this to your list of things to investigate.)

After a few conversations with Rick, the nice manager of one of the local service centers I learned that I had picked up the wrong bulb. So, you know, good thing I didn’t replace it myself.

“The bulb you need” the moisture hating xenon bulb, “would cost $180″ he said.

He offered to install an after market bulb, but estimated those would run about $120. But there was still the moisture problem. He found a place where I’d been dinged in a parking lot. It was his considered professional opinion that perhaps that introduced the moisture. He suggested I take a repair estimate to my insurance agent and get them to fix it. I’d be out the deductible — which is not cheap — but if I bought the new headlight assembly it would be around $800, he said.

So I talked with Rick’s colleague Jerry. He asked who my insurance is with and said he’d write it and I could fight it. That’s all you can do, right? To fix the damage that Rick pointed out, which was small and simply an means to the end of getting the headlight repaired, he estimated it at $1,700 or so of work.

They should make sure you’re sitting down, have a loved one with you and a complimentary nitro pill for such news.

I came home and did what I do best: I found brand new after market parts online. I called Jerry who said he’d put my parts on for a minimal fee if I brought them to the shop. Returning to the computer I bought all new moisture-fearing xenon bulbs and a driver’s side headlight assembly. It still wasn’t cheap, but it is going to cost around half of my deductible.

I long for the days of removing two bolts, removing and installing a new bulb in 10 minutes for about $7 of bulb. And this is why you should ask about the headlights when you are car shopping.

And now a gymnastics story.

Auburn gymnastics

I started going to gymnastics meets with my lovely bride when we first met, so that’s about six years of season tickets. We watched the great Alabama gymnastics team for four years, while we were both in grad school at UAB and then while in the PhD program at Alabama. During that time we also caught an SEC championship meet and the national championship one year. This is our second year attending meets at Auburn.

There’s never been a more exciting meet than tonight’s.

Look at the ladies in the background of that picture. They shared a giddy, explosive, relevatory feeling running throughout Auburn Arena where the 16th-ranked Tigers had Alabama on the ropes. The Tide has beaten Auburn in their last 103 meets, which may be the entire history of gymnastics at the two schools. Tonight the juggernaut Alabama squad was fighting for their life. The announced crowd of 7,299, a gymnastics attendance record for Auburn, was electric as the tension and energy grew through the last routines.

Alabama was Alabama, but one more slip from the defending national champions and Auburn would claim a huge upset. That Auburn team is young and talented — a true freshman is anchoring the floor routines — and they’ve won the crowd. They’re so, so close. Tonight they were 196.325-196.250, close. It was a great thrill to see.


22
Jan 12

Catching up

There’s an unrelated story below the pictures. Keep on reading.

She’s all rah-rah:

gymnastics

So is she:

gymnastics

Auburn on the floor against Georgia:

gymnastics

They are getting really close to a shocking upset. In their home opener, and posting a season-high score, the Tigers narrowly fell to the Gym Dogs, 195.975-195.600.

gymnastics

I like to think she’s yelling “MERCY IS FOR THE WEAK!”

gymnastics

I mentioned this on Thursday and have received the nod to tell the story on the grounds that it is funny now, but it wasn’t then.

(It was marginally that day, too.)

Just after we got married The Yankee was throwing something into the outdoor garbage cans one fine, sunny afternoon. In that house the large cans lived outside along a brick wall. She walked out the door, bag in hand and around to the large rubbermaid can.

From inside I heard a shriek. Through the window I could see her doing what can only be described as the “Ewww! Ewww! Icky!” dance. The neighborhood noticed.

At least I know she is not hurt, I thought, but just merely disturbed. I walked out to investigate.

“There is something in the can!”

Besides the garbage bag?

“There’s something alive in there!”

It was daytime, so it probably wasn’t a raccoon. But the can was upright, so there was no way to know what was really in there. My lovely bride had not bothered to consider the animal’s taxonomic nomenclature and was no help.

I really didn’t want to lean over the garbage can, find a cornered skunk and get sprayed in the face. I fetched my camera and assumed the outstretched arms, blind shot posture. After two tries I had a picture and could identify the invading critter.

It was a possum, baring his teeth, scared out of his little varmint mind.

City girls.

Picking up the almost empty can I carried him far, far away. Flipping the can on its side — I don’t know if possums can climb slick surfaces — the little guy scampered off, shot her a look and scooted up a tree. I bet he was somehow involved in this.