I have decided to begin posting over at Lori’s blog (with her permission of course): Bein’ Franklin.  That blog will become the location of all our family-related blogging so that our friends and family can continue to keep tabs.

If you subscribe to this blog, it will become dormant and eventually (I don’t know when) will be taken down.  All my posts (241 of them, to be exact) have been re-posted to Bein’ Franklin.  If you happen to follow Lori on Twitter or on Facebook, you may have accidentally been inundated with posts today because each post that got moved sent out a notice on those site.  That was my fault and I am sorry.

If you want to keep track of me in family related issues, you can subscribe to Bein’ Franklin either using an RSS feed reader like Google Reader or Bloglines.  Alternatively you can enter your email on the subscription section of Bein’ Franklin.  If all else fails, just let us know that you want to be notified of new posts and we can set you up to receive an email when that happens.

When the game was about to start we moved from the picnic tables over to where our seats were.  We all decided (our kids had already latched on to the Petty’s so this had to be a joint decision) to move up to the “nosebleed’ section and enjoy the game in the shade.  We would have cooked to a crisp in our original seats.  Fortunately it was not a sold out crowd so we had our pick.  Plus, I’ve never heard of the “seat police” coming to move someone from the worse seats to the better seats.

We left around the fifth inning because we had a long trip ahead of us.  Little did we know just how long.  We had planned to visit my parents in Canadian for the weekend.  After picking up all the pets from my grandparents house in Amarillo which we had dropped off before the game, we made our way toward Canadian.  Just about 8 or 9 miles shy of Pampa, disaster struck.  The front right tire on the Trailblazer had a blowout.  It didn’t shred itself but it went flat suddenly.  The first of the bad news was that it was well after dark, almost 11:00 pm.  The second item of bad news was that we never obtained our owners manual for the Trailblazer so we were left to figure out how to get the spare down from under the cab, where to find the jack, and how to properly use the jack.  Finding it was easy, lowering the tire took a while, and piecing together the various bars to make a crank for the jack was a long time coming.  But it all happened leading up to the real bad news.  The spare was flat.

At first, I thought it was only low and maybe I could drive it the next 9 miles into Pampa and fill it up.  This was a bad idea.  I managed to ruin the tire after a couple of miles.  At this point, I was at a loss.  I called up Dad and asked for some help.  I managed to catch him well after his bedtime so good ideas on my plight were not easy to come by.  Suspecting that the spare might still hold some air, he agreed to bring me a tank and an air compressor to see if we might be able to make it into Pampa and perhaps all the way to Canadian.  After an hour’s drive from Canadian, we quickly learned that the tire would not hold air. 

I finally reached the last resort.  I called the wrecker service and they sent out a tow truck.  He tried to air up the spare tire as well but to no avail. It had quite a large hold in the back, I am supposing from my driving on it.  He hauled the Trailblazer into Pampa, while all seven of us (Mom, Dad and my crew) followed in the Impala.  Now, the Impala is a spacious sedan but 7 plus three pets is probably beyond its specs.  The tow truck left the Trailblazer at Walmart at about 2:30 am and I wrote him a check for $115. We finally made it back to Canadian around 3:30 am. 

First thing next morning, I made sure the Wal-mart Automotive Department would be open all day.  Dad and I headed to Pampa, where I had them put two new tires on the front of the Trailblazer and move the extra tire to the spare.  This ran me about $285.  Add in the gas, and that made for a pricey weekend to see the folks.  The rest of the weekend was great, we took it easy, celebrated Mom’s birthday with some cake, and watched a few superhero flicks.  Kids had a great time as well and I just about caught up on the missed sleep by the time the weekend was over.

Lesson learned: When checking the pressure in your tires, don’t forget to check the spare!!!

Tomorrow will be Zachary’s party.

It was almost comforting to see that the house we decided to rent in Lubbock also had one of these trees in the back yard.  Well, turns out, to my surprise, it is not a fruitless mulberry.  Similar though it is to those Plainview trees, we are now tracking mulberry juice into the house as it has shed quite a few berries. 

Looks like we have ourselves a good old fashioned Texas Mulberry tree:

I finally made it to the golf course!! I played Elm Grove in Lubbock. The course is what most people with whom I play might call a “goat ranch”. The greens were in decent shape, but the fairways were not. It’s not a very exciting course, but you know what? I couldn’t have cared less. I was on the golf course and I was playing golf. As far as I can remember, that’s the first time I can say that in over a year.

I shot an 89 but there were some high points that will definitely bring me back to the course. My handicap used to be around 11 or 12, so I was quite a bit worse than that on a course with a rating of 69.8.

Highlight of the round came on the last shot. I sunk a 30 foot putt for par to break 90. I approached the last hole knowing that it would make the difference between a round in the 80s or a round in the 90s. I definitely would be discouraged to start out in the 90s, but hitting the 89 mark would be a good omen for the upcoming summer. Number 18 was a par 5 straight into the wind. First shot was a driver straight down the middle, which happened to true for most of the back side. Second shot was a little left with a 3 wood leaving me about 40 yards short of the green. The approach was too short with my Cleveland sand wedge (my short game was atrocious most of the day, no touch). I tried to bump it close with a 5 iron from just off the green and still left it about 30 feet short. The last putt was make or break, par or bogey, 80s or 90s. I lined it up and drained it. The crowd went wild! Okay, so it was just me but I did pump my fist in the air and gave out a w00t.

Good day.