All Star Pics

Here are some pics from Gabe's all star games.

Here's the wind up...

...and the pitch.

Gabe made a great hit, but flied out to deep left field.

Gabe shakes hands with the home plate Umpire before
their third and final game.

Gabe behind the plate.

All of the pics were taken by my wife. Here's a great,
classic baseball image with Gabe catching
against a Palm Harbor batter.

Ramsey's Visit

I've been meaning to post some pics, so I'll catch up on them this weekend.

When Katie, Brian, Sarah and Luke were down from Atlanta, we all got together for dinner at Charles and Betty's house.

The newly engaged Christina with her Uncle Pete.

Uncle Pete, Katie and cute Luke.

We always love when Katie, Brian and family come down. We're very grateful because they always find time to come down to our neck of the woods. We can't wait to see them at their home in Georgia when we visit them in a few weeks.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 45, Cashing In On Immortality

After the long and nauseous drive up the Pacific Coast Highway, we arrived in the great city of San Francisco around dinner time. It was hard to appreciate the city for all of its beauty and landmarks because we could only see the street lights and buildings illuminating the night sky. For us, having been on the road twelve nights, it looked like just another city on our long trek.

Unfortunately, during the course of this trip, from the moment we had to try and get all of Sunday’s luggage into the back of the Acura to the infinite waiting on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, tensions between the four travelers had been building everyday. As with the tides when a tropical storm approaches, the waves of tension on this trip would ebb and flow, but never completely dissipated. Instead, each day the tension from one day would build upon the next, like a storm surge of frustration and irritation ready to crash on the shore. And like an approaching hurricane, there was little I could do to get out of its destructive path.

When we reached the hotel we were surprised to find it was relatively close to the Hard Rock Café in San Francisco. After a quick check in and a quicker unpacking, we headed off to San Fran’s version of the famed restaurant chain.

As we sat down at our table, I spied more musical memorabilia on the walls and display cases and I realized at that moment that one of the drivers for me to get into acting and filmmaking was because I, like the previous owners of the collectibles that surrounded our table, wanted a certain level of immortality on this planet. For them it was music. For me, it was movies.

Movies last forever. If you have a great performance or write a great scene or direct a memorable film, that performance, that scene, that movie is on the public record forever. And your name is attached to it. Just as I rediscover works of Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn decades later, so too could others of your work if you were so lucky. Through that rediscovery lies a taste of immortality.

I wondered to myself if I would ever have anything worth being shown in a display case along with other giants in the entertainment industry. At once my exuberant youthful hope made it seem completely within the realm of possibility and yet the insecurity of not quite knowing what would make me so special as to be able to earn such an honor battled within my psyche.

In the end, I realized that my growing and evolving faith would play a pivotal role. I knew that if I were to achieve any greatness, that it would take powers greater than my own to reach such a level of achievement. I had a strong faith in the Lord and would put my career aspirations in his hands.

As our dinner neared completion I looked into my wallet and discovered I was almost out of money. Tim and I had an agreement that I would pay my portion of whatever hotel room and food charges he put on his credit cards on the trip. So, I didn’t need a lot of cash to make the journey, but what little cash I had was quickly diminishing.

Sunday, it appeared, was in the same boat as me. During out entire journey she was equally frugal in her financial decisions.

When it came time to pay our food bill, Tim’s credit card was declined. The waiter asked, “Are you staying at a hotel?”

“Yes.” Tim replied.

“That explains it. When you register with a credit card they max it out to make sure you can pay for whatever charges you acquire during your stay,” the waiter explained.

Well, that was both helpful and troublesome. It explained the credit card issue, but didn’t explain how we were going to pay for the meal. I reached into my thin, light wallet ready to pitch in when Sunday opened up her purse and pulled out a large wad of cash.

Tim, Beth and I stared in disbelief. “Here. I don’t know what I owe you for the trip, but this should cover it,” Sunday said as she offered over all of her money.

“You don’t have to give us everything,” Beth said.

“It’s okay,” Sunday replied, “I still have some.”

Tim and Beth reluctantly took the cash and paid the bill.

As we drove back to the hotel I thought of how hard it would have been for me to have all of that money on hand for the entire trip and NOT spend it! That concept just seemed impossible to me at the time. I envied her financial control. If I had that much cash on me I would have been buying everything from Bedrock City t-shirts to Mickey Mouse ears.

And it reminded me that just when I think I’ve gotten Sunday figured out, she always has one more surprise up her sleeve.

And so ended the thirteenth night on our trip to Cally.

********

Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)
Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)
Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)

And I Thought I Was Nuts...

So, I'm nearing the end of my self imposed year long daily blog entry experiment called Surviving in Safety Harbor. Granted, it's been tough to create a daily entry for 365 1/4 days, but very rewarding as well.

If you think writing a blog entry everyday for a year is hard, check out the people at 365 Films, who's goal is to create a short film everyday for a year.

Their "constitution" consists of two articles:

"Article 1: We will be shooting, editing and distributing one new film, everday, for a year.
Article 2: These will be professional, structured, created pieces of cinema that tell a story or explore an issue."

And I thought I was nuts. I can't imagine how difficult it will be to come up with 365 film ideas, implement them, shoot them, edit them and distribute them daily... they must not have jobs.

You can read more about their progress on their website, www.365films.com.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 44, Touching The Pacific

Sunday awoke the next morning acting like our revealing conversation the night before had never occurred. Apparently she had ripped a page right out of my relationship moron handbook. Having authored the book, I played along.

We packed the Acura and said fond goodbyes to Paul and Anne, thanking them profusely for their tremendous hospitality. We followed their hand drawn directions and quickly found the interstate.

Weaving up the Pacific Coast Highway.

The thing about driving on highways in Los Angeles is that speed limits aren’t really important. Apparently, since traffic often comes to a standstill on these six to ten lane interstates, if the roads are clear and the traffic moving, all bets are off. As the Acura neared eighty miles per hour, we still found cars zooming passed us.

There are two ways to get to San Francisco, the interstate, which takes you about four to six hours, or you can take the historic Pacific Coast Highway, which travels up the coast of California, but it adds an additional two hours to the trip. Having never been in California and never knowing if we would ever return, we decided to offer up the two extra hours to the travel gods and take the journey up the coast.

The Pacific Coast Highway is a winding multi-lane road that weaves up and over and around the natural landscape that looks over the Pacific Ocean. For the first few hours the mountains and the view were breathtaking. Every turn seemed to offer a unique and exciting view.

The sun beginning to set on the highway.

After about three hours, however, the back and forward motion of the car, along with the speeding up and slowing down, had caused everyone in the car, including the driver, to grow increasingly nauseous. We cracked the windows and let in the cool evening air in an attempt to subdue the waves of gastric discomfort rising in all of us.

After another hour of weaving and swaying and slowing and speeding, we decided to take a breather and do something none of us had ever done… touch the Pacific Ocean. We pulled the car over near a scenic overlook and walked down to the beach. As the sun began to set we cautiously approached the water as it rippled onto the beach. None of us were dressed for a swim, so we took off our sneakers and tip-toed toward the water.

In near unison we all bent down and placed our hands in the salty ocean water. As the water quickly wrapped around my feet and my toes sunk into the dark sand I was shocked to discover the water to be so cold.

Near the beach, the sun dips below the Pacific.

I smiled to myself as I thought back to swimming in the Gulf of Mexico on the west coast of Florida and fighting the waves of the Atlantic Ocean in Daytona Beach. My mind then imagined how the explorers Lewis and Clark felt when they had finally reached the end of this great land and felt the cold surf of the Pacific Ocean. There was something monumental in being able to touch one of the world’s oceans.

After that rather quick respite from the to and fro of the drive up the Pacific Coast Highway, we re-entered the blue hatchback and drove into the night, heading toward the great city of San Francisco.

********

Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)
Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)
Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)

Happy Birthday Dorothea!

My daughter, Dorothea, enters the uncharted, dangerous waters of teenhood today. She's officially 13.

I can so easily remember holding her in my arms as an infant, rocking her to sleep. Now, she's a beautiful young woman with a Koehler face and a Bauer sense of humor.

She shares my love of acting and my love of movies. We're so blessed as she is very caring and considerate.

She's more special than I can sculpt in words.

Happy 13th birthday, Dorothea. You'll do great things in this world.

Goin' Out To Cally – Part 43, Between The Hard Rock And A Hard Place

We had decided when we started our journey to California to make the Hard Rock Café a mini-home away from home. We knew that there would be Hard Rocks in Dallas, Los Angeles and San Francisco, so we made a point to use the visit to the Los Angeles version for Tim’s twenty-sixth birthday.

We arrived at the Los Angeles Hard Rock and were disappointed to see that this location resembled more of a loud singles bar than it did a musical museum that served above average fare.

There weren’t a lot of seating options available so we decided to sit around a small, high table with bar chairs. The music was loud and conversation was difficult. At one point Sunday went over to the bar to get a drink and was immediately hit on by a tan, blonde hunk of a man about 100 times more handsome than I could ever imagine myself to be.

As she smiled, flipped her hair and flirted with the hunk I found myself experiencing an emotion I was ill prepared to face… jealousy. I remember vividly being stunned that I was growing upset that Sunday was flirting with someone else. Funny that I could immediately spot her flirting with someone across a crowded bar, but was unable to comprehend when she was flirting with me.

I turned away and thought to myself… why am I jealous? I was growing to despise this person just hours earlier, yet here I was fighting the green monster because Golden Boy was making moves.

For some reason, over the past week or so I had grown to possess a latent fondness or attraction for Sunday. I had battled my insecurities for the entire trip, but was also flattered by her attention.

As Tim and Beth held hands and leaned close to each other in order to talk, I found myself realizing the definition of being a third wheel. Tim and Beth were having fun, Sunday was having fun and I was sadly jealous over someone with which I had no right to feel jealous.

That feeling of jealously quickly turned to shame. How pathetic was I… not only to feel this way, but to be so insecure as to allow myself to feel this way.

Eventually Sunday rejoined our table as the food arrived. Embarrassed, I hid my feelings and, instead, complained about how much better the Dallas Hard Rock was than its Los Angeles cousin. Unable to compete with the loud conversations in the bar trying to yell over the louder music, we ended up just sitting quietly and eating. Sunday downed a few more drinks and, together, we all toasted Tim on his numerically unique birthday.

On the way out to the car it was to nobody’s surprise that Sunday was lagging behind. Tim and Beth continued ahead of us while Sunday, feeling more open and aggressive with a few drinks in her, starting yelling at me.

I asked, “What are you mad at me for?”

She grabbed my arm and turned me toward her. “You haven’t made one single move on me this whole trip!”

“What?” I asked with utter confusion.

“I’ve been flirting with you and hitting on you and you haven’t tried to kiss me or anything!” she exclaimed.

My mind was suddenly inundated with conflicting thoughts. Should I remind her that she’s dating David, our mutual friend?

No. Why? Because I’m actually flattered she was hitting on me all this time and, for how little this moment of clarity would actually last and I wanted it to exist as long as possible.

Should I tell her that I’m a relationship moron?

No, she’s apparently figured that out already.

What should I do? Comfort her? She’d have to stop yelling at me first.

Try and kiss her? No, that’d be wrong. Not only would it be betraying my friendship with David, it would also be taking advantage of Sunday while slightly inebriated.

By the time we caught up to Tim and Beth at the car, Sunday had confessed her attraction to me and explained, in detail, how offended she was that I had not attempted to make a single pass at her or tried any inappropriate touching on her person what-so-ever.

As her emotional venting came to climax, I realized that, not only had any opportunity of intimacy with Sunday evaporated this evening, but I could sense that it had ended for the trip as a whole.

For better or worse or somewhere in the massive gray area in between, we would remain only friends. As the smoke cleared I knew it was for the better.

The ride back to Paul and Anne’s house was uncomfortably quiet. I spent the time silently trying to understand this unexpectedly odd and emotionally tumultuous night.

As so ended the twelfth day on our trip to Cally.

********

Part 43, (Text, Audio)
Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)
Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)

Happy Independence Day!

Thank you, Lord, for allowing us to live in a country where we can so openly praise Your name. For allowing us to live with the freedoms to which you have graced this country.

May this country continue to glorify you in our actions and continue to lead by Your example.

Thank you for this independence from tyranny and freedom that comes with Your salvation.

X-Men : The Last Stand (2006)

The mutants in the X-Men world are facing a mandatory inoculation that will cure them of their mutations, thereby turning them back to average human beings. The mutation-suppressing cure is actually generated from another mutant who's own mutation disables the mutant genes in others.

This cure sets into motion the forces of good mutants (X-Men) vs. the bad mutants (Magneto and followers). Thrown into the mix is the apparent resurrection of Jean Grey, who sacrificed herself at the end of X-Men 2 to save her friends, and everything is different. This time, however, Jean is not what she appeared to be the last time we saw her. She is the strongest mutant on the planet and her powers now go unchecked.

The film is most likely the last in the X-Men series, as many of the main characters are impacted during the course of the film.


And, as a final song in the X-Men trilogy, the war that unfolds is much more violent and explicit than the previous X-Men outings. It is an intense ride and a satisfying conclusion to the series, for X-Men and action movie fans alike.

The Perfect Stranger (2005)

What would it be like to have dinner with someone claiming to be Jesus Christ? That's the premise of the very entertaining film called The Perfect Stranger. The film, written and starring Jefferson Moore as The Stranger, plays a man who claims to be Jesus Christ and invites a lawyer, performed by Pamela Brumley, to dinner.

Brumley reluctantly attends the dinner and is very skeptical of The Stranger's intentions, yet he offers enough insight to keep her interested. As the conversation continues, his knowledge of her and his arguments of theological issues brings her closer to the belief that she is actually having dinner with Jesus Christ. Is the man truly Jesus Christ or an imposter? As the story unfolds, you find out.

Watching the film makes you wonder how wonderful it would be actually have dinner with Jesus Christ. What would you say? What would you ask? What would he say to you? You'll find your mind racing with many questions, discussions, conversations, etc.

Considering how personal such a question as "what would it be like to have dinner with Jesus Christ" can be, the film is exceedingly satisfying. The acting is wonderful and the screenplay, adapted from the book by David Gregory, covers so much ground, yet it all unfolds so naturally that the screenplay never appears preach or overly wordy.

The Perfect Stranger is an intriguing, touching and pleasantly satisfying family Christian film. Find an evening and spend it with your family watching this film. It's a dinner you won't soon forget.