Video Friday.

This is video of Maxim helping to retire one of the senior All-Stars banners. The senior is Jared Wold who is a friend of ours, so it was cool that Maxim got to skate his banner.

This is something Stephanie shot...we laughed at Brecken's eyes and mouth...I don't know how he did it, but it was funny.

Phoenix here we come.

10 years...

10 years ago this week Steph was preparing for our wedding...hard to believe we have been married for 10 years.

In that 10 years we have lived in 5 different house/apartments, I have had 4 jobs, we have gone through 8 different cars and added 2 boys to the mix...and I wouldn't change a thing.

On our honeymoon we went to Florida and the Bahamas...we went to a Cardinal's spring training game, laid on the beach and just enjoyed each other. To celebrate our 10th year we are doing the same thing...kind of.

On Sunday morning we are leaving for Phoenix, I have some conferences, and then we are staying a couple extra days for a little time together. We are going to watch my beloved Chicago Cubbies play on Sunday afternoon...I am stoked about that...then throughout the week we will do whatever, and we are also going to watch the Coyotes play the Ottawa Senators (NHL Hockey Game). I got some super good tickets on Ebay.

This trip couldn't have come at a better time, as we are both sick to death of winter, along with everyone else in the upper Midwest, and we are ready for some warm weather. Let's face it...Steph needs a break.

Right now Phoenix is boasting a balmy 80 degrees...perfection.

Grandma and Grandpa Decker are coming to stay with the boys. I feel a little bad leaving them alone with the boys for 7 days, but it will be good for them to hang with their grandparents that they don't get to see a lot.

You might not see a lot of posting on the site for the next week, but I might post some pictures just to give you a feel for what we are doing.

The Zamboni.

"There are 3 things in life that people love to stare at, a crackling fire, a flowing stream and a Zamboni cleaning the ice." - Charlie Brown, Peanuts

"This office needs to be Zambonied!" Me, about 3 hours ago.

I sat down in my office today with piles of junk every where, I started thinking wouldn't it be great if when I left for lunch or the evening a little Zamboni would come out of a garage and sweep up all of my "ice shavings" from the day.

That got me thinking how many times this year I have seen a Zamboni, or if I was in Watertown an Olympia, come on to the ice to give me a clean sheet to skate on.

With reffing and coaching the mini-mites I estimate that a Zamboni cleaned up after me, and a bunch of other skaters about 230 times since October.

Zamboni Facts:
It takes about 12 minutes to flood the ice.
The average Zamboni travels about 2,000 miles a year around the ice rink's surface.
When the Zamboni comes on to the ice it is carrying about 1,200 pounds of hot water.
When finished with the rink the Zamboni is carrying about 1,500 pounds of snow shavings.
A Zamboni travels about 3 miles per hockey game.
The Zamboni made it's Olympic debut in 1960.
The first Zamboni's were built on Model "A" and Jeep chassis.
Zamboni is actually the company name, Frank Zamboni started the company, the actual name is Ice Resurfacing Machine...how boring would it be if we all called it that?

Hockey Season Comes To An End.

Hockey is over...now it is time for SPRING.

Since Steph and I will be in Phoenix for 10 days at the beginning of March my schedule won't allow for me to officiate any of the state hockey tournaments. So I reffed my last hockey game of the year last night.

It was a good year, I only had one really off game where I went into the locker room afterwards and called myself names, and offered myself some new glasses. Otherwise I felt I was always fair but firm.

I actually think being a hockey official prepares you to be a parent to boys. For instance, there are times when you have to hand out punishment, and there are times when you tell them to go ahead and drop the gloves for a little fight....and then step in to curtail the carnage.

Yes, even if it is a mis-match fight between a 5 year old and a 22 month old...sometimes fighting is needed, and the only way Brecken can earn his respect from his older brother.

I'll probably regret writing this in 8 years when one of them comes out of a brotherly-love fight with a broken tooth or black eye, but I know from experience growing up with a sister who could pound me that a lot is learned about life when you are pinned to the ground by your sibling with spit hanging out of their mouth ready to drop it on to your face.

Montana again.

I was in MT all week, and what a crazy one it was in BIG SKY land. Especially in the sky.

On the plane ride from Denver to Bozeman our plane made a crazy hard turn in the middle of what is usually a very straight flight...so I looked out the window and about 2 minutes later saw another plane go screaming past, as close as I have ever seen...I could actually tell it was a Delta plane from the tail markings.

I snowboarded at Bridger on Sunday and the sky was clear and beautiful all day, I rode in a sweatshirt for most of the day.

Then early Tuesday morning...while I was sleeping...a meteor slashed across the Northwest and caught the attention of most people outside at that time in Montana and it ended up crashing in Oregon, you can read about it here or here or watch the CNN report here.




Then on Wednesday night I was in Bozeman for the full lunar eclipse. I was out grabbing some food and I saw these guys looking at the eclipse on the edge of town with a telescope, so I stopped made quick friends with them and looked through their telescope.

It was the best telescope I have ever looked through, not the kind you buy from your buddy for $50 either (T-Meyer), they had that thing so tight on the moon at times you could not see the edges of the moon and they were showing me different areas and locations on the moon. They were from the University and were all in a astronomy students.

I got back long enough to coach hockey practice and pack for tonight's hockey reffing assignments in Mitchell. Steph and the boys are coming with and we are going to have an "I hate winter party" at the new water park at the Comfort Inn...should be interesting to watch B-reck tear the place up!

Dilbert hits home...

If you have been around me for any length of time you know I am addicted to my BlackBerry, well it seems Dilbert is as well. A buddy sent me this cartoon mocking my addiction to checking e-mails...

Regulator Robert...The Final Installment.

Writer's note: Sorry I've been keeping you in suspense...I was traveling. Now where were we...

The bullets piercing the air above and the frozen ground beneath kept bringing him back to reality...he was in a pickle and there was no escape. Any learning his mama ever gave him couldn't apply to this situation, he would have to get out of this one on his own.

He needed to get a better look at his attacker, so he peered over the berm of dirt. He couldn't make out numbers, but it looked like there was more than 2 hombres, and a horseless carriage, or a "car" as some people called them.

Just as he ducked back into the safety of the switch grass poking through the crusty snow another volley of projectiles whizzed overhead.

He yelled again...but the wind muffled his plea.

The shooting had stopped, and he knew they were out of bullets because he had been counting the shots. So he knew he had to take action now. His only way out was to ride right at them while they were reloading, and take them on bare-knuckle-style...he'd have to be fast, and that was Cookie's job.

He looked up at Cookie, that horse had been mighty good to him...he looked him square in the right eye and said, "Are you with me?"

Cookie snorted and stomped his foot as if to say, "TO THE DEATH!"

He stood up and was ready to throw a leg over for the ride of a lifetime....

Just then he heard a slam, then a motor fired up, and the car took off. The cowards were yellow-bellied sap suckers. Running away from the fight they started. Good for them...it saved their life from a cowboy that was set to defend his cattle, his horse, his land and his good name, to the death.

He kept a mental picture of the car, just in case he saw it parked at the local watering hole...he would remember this day forever. A lot of thinking was done in those 20 minutes of human peril.

On the ride back to the ranch he vowed to take better care of his family, to reach out to his preacher-boy son-in-law and ask him about the faith he proclaimed. He would take interest in his sissy-boy son's writings...he would hold that woman of his a little bit longer in the morning, he would start packing his .45 on days in the saddle, and he would become the fastest gun in Central Beadle County...things that matter in this world, things you can hold on to

It became clear to him that day, that his whole life was a preparation for that moment...those bullets flying over his head...after all when he was 8 and digging on a pile of dirt at their homestead, it was his daddy that said, "Leave that pile of dirt alone son, you never know when you'll need a pile of dirt in front of your house."

Funny, a pile of dirt saved his life.

(For the most part this is what happened, I know you are a bit dissappointed with the ending, well in real life I was too...dad didn't even call the cops. If someone shoots at me, you better believe I'm calling the cops, and my dad.)

The End.

Regulator Robert...continued.

Writer's note: I'll admit I didn't know this would turn into an epic blog-novel...I actually got bored while writing it the first night and just left it as a cliff hanger. The next installment was going to be the last, and then I saw how insane it drove Verlie that I didn't write anything for about 3 days, so that gave birth to the epic it has become. (This is a good thing because my real life has been super routine lately.)


KA-ZZZZZING!

"Bullets make sounds in the air," was one of the thoughts running through the cowboy's head as he ran his trusty steed Cookie the last 40 meters.

The other thought was, "what is going on here?". "Have I wronged someone that's looking for revenge, have I been mistaken for wild game, is someone looking to take my horse." When you don't have a known enemy or arch nemesis it is hard to know what puts you in predicaments like this.

Finally he made it to cover...he had some time to clear his head and think about his next step. He tried yelling.

"Hey, quit shooting at me!"

"Hey, there is people out here!"

His voice was cracking with fear like a 14 year-old boy going through puberty...but he couldn't help it.

"Why are you shooting?"

"I have a wife and kids."

"Please...let me live!"

KA-ZZZZZZING...another shot.

The wind was strong and blowing from the Noreast, causing his pleas for help to rush away in the wrong direction with the dust and blowing snow.

The gunman was a good 300 meters away or more. He wondered if he could fashion an old style sling shot out of his saddle's flank cinch and some latigo strapping. He had seen a moving picture show about David and Goliath one time and he was pretty sure he could fling a rock a couple hundred feet or more at his attackers.

KA-ZZZZZING....KAZZZZZZZING....KAZZZZZZZING.

They were really bearing down on him now.

The crafting of a Biblical era slingshot seemed like his only defense in case this came down to a fight, but the thought of wrecking $80 worth of tack to throw a rock to save his own life seemed too expensive...so he sat there...like a gopher trapped in his hole. He got mad at himself for being so cheap.

If only he would have brought his unwired communication device along on this ride he could have called the sheriff for back up. That piece of technology too was not within his reach...just like the old gunfighter's Colt .45 and it's custom made holster.

He had to sit and wait for the fight to come to him...or did he...

(To be continued.)

Regulator Robert....continued.

Writer's Note: Sorry I made you wait a few days before part 2. I had a lot of media requests for interviews last week with the Super Bowl and all.

PART 2:

Cookie was one of those horses that only comes around once in a lifetime...enough speed to catch the fastest calf, shoulders with the strength of a Lebanon Red Cedar, his eyes as keen as the Red Tailed hawk, ears like whitetail deer, and a heart like that of Mother Teresa, Ghandi and a little bit of Mike Tyson...in case there was a need for a fight.

The old cowboy trusted this horse, and that's why he talked to him, "What do ya hear? Trouble?"

Just then something whizzed past the old cowhand's head.

Now having never served in the military, due to a knee injury he sustained during a caber tossing competition while he was on a cowboy exchange program in the Scottish Highlands, he didn't recognize the sound right away. But it only took a split second for him to know this was trouble, of a serious nature.

He had been in tight situations before, like the time he had to smote his brother for eating the last of the cookies on HIS 9th birthday. The 10 mile trail ride with his grand daughter where their only rations were a can of soda and some sunflower seeds. The church league softball game where a baserunner didn't slide into home like required...the old boy floored him and kicked some dirt in his general direction, instagating the first ever bench clearing "rubarb" in Huron Church League Softball history. The run in with Campus Security at a college library, and the day he and his family almost came to blows with the overzealous owner of a golf ball driving range at Lake Okoboji. He was always a peaceful man, unless pushed.

There was an inner beast waiting down deep in his soul, the beast was there, just waiting for the message to rip off his shirt to show his chiseled pectoral muscles and defend his honor...this was one of those times.

Staving the urge to rip his shirt off, he refocused his attentions.

Was it what he thought?

Then it happed again...ZING.

Some FOOL was shooting at him.

The days of always carrying a gun had been long gone for this cowboy. He quit leathering a loaded piece 'round about the time when his trusty sidekick "Brother Phil" put a slug of lead into his own leg.

After that mishap and almost losing Phil, his most trusted human friend, the gunfighter image quickly wore out it's welcome. He dropped the "Bob-a-louie-guts" moniker right beside his 9-shot pearl handled .22 pistol and it's holster.

He would be a cattle man, not a gunfighter, but he never could quite walk away from his gunfighter past. He did it now for competition. Wax bullets shot at an old street sign. The people called it Cowboy Fastdraw, and it was the only way to harness the beast within, as the new era of society didn't look kindly on those who packed iron.

So this day, as like most days, his trusty Colt .45 was sitting in his house. Just when he needed it most, he had left it behind. There was no fight to be had from his end, just flight.

Quickly he surveyed the area. There isn't much cover in these parts. The tree belt was to thin and there was a chance for a stray bullet to make it through the maze of branches. He noticed a dried out dugout stock dam, pulled the reins on his horse and dropped his spurs into the breast of the horse for action.

Cookie, being the brains of this operation, was already thinking the same thing. Just make it to that cover, before we take a piece of hot lead in the flesh. He turned tail and ran, like Barbaro, without the broken leg.

Then another shot rang out...KA-ZZZZZING...just over their heads.

Only 87 meters from safety...but could they make it in time.


(To Be Continued)

Regulator Robert...Epic Lamour style.

It dawned on me this morning that I hadn't blogged about a great story that happened over the weekend.

If you have read this blog you know my dad was born about 150 years to late. He would rather head cross-country in a covered wagon or on a horse with his 6 gun on his hip. He has a love of all things of the Old West.

With a break in the freezing cold temps last Sunday he took one of his horses out for a ride near his "ranch", and that's when it got "western"....and now I will get L'Amour-ish.................................

There he was, just a lone cowboy on the prairie, a few miles due East of the James River Valley, or as the locals called it...The Jim.

It was a regular day for this ranch boss, checking on his horses and longhorns as the January wind nipped at his life-weathered face. He turned up the collar of his ranch coat, and pulled his silk scarf a little bit higher on his neck to block nature's attack. His hands, dried and cracked from hours of hard labor, needed no gloves. Time had turned them into iron.

It was turning into a long winter on the flat and desolate plains, the cold seemed colder, the nights seemed longer and the warm company of his fine wife made it harder to force his beaten and scarred body out of bed in the mornings. This is the kind of winters that Laura Ingalls would write about, or as the native Sioux called this time of year...The Moon of the Popping Tree.

It entered his mind, that this might be the last season on the ranch, time for a younger to take over. But he knew, in his family, he was the last of his breed.

His daughter's husband was a preacher-man in the plains of Kansas, a good man with a great heart, but his thin build and feeble back was not cut out for the work of a ranch boss.

His only son, the last hope for the family ranch was a writer...a sissy-boy by his account. More content to prose, and to wax on with a pen and paper. That mama's boy couldn't even pull a calf on a sloppy March day or sack out a 3 year-old gelding for it's first saddle. Where did he go wrong with that one, he would often think. Knowing full well that a life on the ranch was a hard one. He didn't wish on anyone, but it made him proud to see all that he had, right there on those acres of his life.

Times had gotten harder in the last few seasons...commodity prices on the rise and the invention of GPS driven combines had made the dirt farming folk successful. That new fangled technology never did serve the cowboy well.

So then and there, on the back of that dun gelding with the sunlight warming his work-widened back, he decided to plod on, as long as his body could handle it, he would run this ranch. If his brother-in-law the banker had to come reposses it out of his unwilling hands, or if he died in these pasture lands...well, all the better. That's how his daddy went and that's how he would go, working his craft right to the very end.

He continued to ride that Sunday through some naked trees, and shrubary, he noticed rabbits, a few deer tracks and antler rubbings, things you notice when you are in tune with nature, and one with the land.

His attention came on an old busted off pine tree, and a smile creased the cheeks of his wind-whipped face. He and Penny used to share many a summer picnic under that old pine, good memories. That pine was a stoic beauty until the storm back in '05. Ice came down so hard almost every tree in the area broke in some way. Just another story of his survival.

Just past the fall tree of memories was a clearing, his trusty horse Cookie stepped out of the belt of trees and his ears perked.

The old cowboy noticed.

"What's that, boy? You hear something?"

(to be continued)

Happy Birthday to Steph...

My coffee guzzling wife is celebrating her birthday today.

For the longest time...well, up until 2 years ago, I couldn't remember when my wife's birthday was...January 30th or the 31st. So I would either sneak a peak at her driver's license or just give her a present on the 29th...to cover the next couple days.

It's funny how if you get something in your head once, and it's wrong...how hard it is to change it. I have since programmed my wife's actual birth date into my BlackBerry so I don't forget or miss it.

Grandma is going to handle the boys tonight...believe me that's about all you can do is HANDLE...So tonight we will celebrate her big day at some exotic restaurant in The Fair City. I was thinking Phoebe's, but someone told me it closed a few years ago, so I'll let her decide.

I must say I got her a pretty rad gift, tickets to Phoenix in March...I have some work conferences and I have never taken her when I do stuff like this so I am parlaying her birthday and our anniversary into one big gift. We are staying at 2 different high end resorts, and she can't wait to sit by the pool in the desert. We will also take in a Cubs spring training game and a Phoenix Coyotes game...and yes, she is excited about going to watch the Cubs and the Coyotes. I'm sure she'll shop for a few hours as well.

That being said, Happy Birthday, Steph...January 30th, I finally got the right day.

MARY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A broom is drearily sweeping
Up the broken pieces of yesterdays life
Somewhere a queen is weeping
Somewhere a king has no wife
And the wind, it cries...Mary
-Jimi Hendrix, The Wind Cries Mary

So yesterday it was around 50 degrees as Maxim and I walked into the hockey rink for practice...we joked with some others that Spring was coming early. When we left, completely under dressed for what was beyond the doors, the wind slapped me on the face and we ran for the car.

This morning with the wind chill factor...it's close to 35 below...that's an 85 degree swing! I think I can truly say, I don't mind humidity, extreme heat, snow, below zero temps or spring days when it is 73...but I hate the wind. I have never liked the wind. In the summer it makes my lake choppy, my golf ball fly in directions I don't want it to go, in the winter it makes the cold...colder. I can't think of one good thing the wind does for me.

With the exception of wind generated power, I have no use for wind. Even windmills work better with a slower wind speed. So I am pushing for a law to keep the wind speed limits to under 13 mph.

The coolest thing today was that the DJ of the station I was listening to played an old Jimi Hendrix song that I hadn't listened to in a while, and it completely made sense that he played it today...THE WIND, IT CRIES...MARY...

Quite Possibly The Worst Animated Movie Ever Made.

Ironically the toys I played with as a kid are experiencing a comeback of sorts...Star Wars, G.I. Joe, Justice League Super Heroes and Transformers. Star Wars, Justice League and G.I. Joe never really went away and Transformer is fueled by the success of last year's very well done summer block buster.

Maxim loves the new movie, and so we decided to pick up the original full length animated movie from 1986. I couldn't have been prepared for how brutal this movie was. The plot was impossible to follow, some of the characters were impossible to understand and Optimus Prime gets killed off half way through the movie. The main reason kids loved Transformers and now he's dead!

Did I mention the soundtrack...the theme song is sung by a knock off band that sounds like Stryper and Weird Al Yankovic's song "Dare To Be Stupid" even makes an appearance during one of the fight scenes.

There were scenes where Steph and I would look at each other and be completely confused with what was going on. You could totally tell it was Hollywood trying to make some quick money off of the TV series...and it probably worked.

With that said, Maxim loved it. I have a feeling I will have to sit through parts of it again before we have to take it back to the rental store...the saving grace of the movie was that the disc was scratched and we got to skip through about 20 minutes of boredom.

10 meals.

I had a buddy ask me, "If you could eat 10 meals with living people...not relatives or close friends...who would make your list?"

So here is my list:

10. Chris Sharma...the zen master of rock climbing
9. Rob Bell...great man of faith and writer.

8. Ty Murray...rodeo legend.

7. John Stewart and Steven Colbert...from the Daily Show with John Stewart, and from the Colbert Report...TV's most trusted fake news shows...I'd roll them into one meal.

6. Tony Hawk...Skateboard and action sports legend

5. Bono...U2's front man

4. Sean Penn...I know a little strange to see him so high on my list, but I have seen a couple of interviews with him and I think he would be a good meal partner.

3. Wayne Gretzky...sorry Paul Coffey, you are in my top 20, but The Great One beats you out here.

2. Matt Lauer...NBC anchor...will go down in history as one of the best

1. Bishop Desmond Tutu...I interviewed him while he was in SF a while back...I got 15 minutes with him and wanted 2 more hours.

So there without a ton of thought put into it...that is my list...I am sure I could do the same list tomorrow and have about 4 or 5 changes.

Your job...go to the post comments section and put your top 10 in.

Napoleon Dynamite

I still laugh when I see anything that has to do with Napoleon Dynamite...the first time I watched it was during a holiday break with my brother-in-law and my dad at like 12:30 am. We were quite punchy and laughed really loud. I think G-ma Pen told us to quiet down about 4 times.

I was sent a link to an advertisement that the Utah State Fair used a couple years ago. Super funny.

Hockey Rituals

A couple nights ago in the coaches locker room a buddy and I were talking about hockey rituals...things we do prior to stepping on the ice, whether it be playing, coaching, reffing or just skating.

Some of the things I do I have no idea why I started them, but I still do them today.

Here is the list:

Most important is my number always number 7, (Paul Coffey's number) although my freshman year of college I had to be 14 for the first year, because a senior already had 7...so I went with the sum of two number 7's.

I also write the number 7 on my stick handle, and the bottom of my skates.

White tape on the blade of my stick...because Paul Coffey did.

My shin pads are always super tight to my legs, either with tape or "shin-tights"...can't stand floppy shin pads.

I dress left to right...left skate, right skate.

Helmet is never buckled when I step on the ice.

Maybe the most important ritual that I do is "the spit"...when I step on the ice I step on with one foot and push off with the other and before that skate touches the ice I spit on the ice...it's my way of becoming one with the ice. I have taught Maxim that ritual as well, and my buddy asks Maxim every time he sees him on the ice if he has spit on the ice yet.

The other ritual in college that I used to abide by was pre-games I would eat at Subway...6" club on white...now every time I eat one of those sandwiches...I think of hockey.

I'm so hungry for Subway right now!

My next shotgun.

Pheasants and ducks beware...I'm getting this for next season.

Spelling Words On A Calculator.

I think my buddy Dale in 2nd grade first showed me that you can spell the word "hell0" on an upside down calculator...there were a few words that our 2nd grade minds could come up with as well.

Yesterday in a meeting a friend spelled the word "shell.oil" on his calculator and showed it to me...so I got to thinking how many words can you spell on an upside down calculator???

Of course on the net we find a host of websites...this one was the best.

You are welcome for this useless knowledge from Living On Liquid.

Frozen Fun.

This is some video of the boys enjoying winter ON the lake...too much snow for skating...I think Brecken's cheeks and nose were red for 3 hours after we came inside.

Explain This!