T-Minus 38 Hours

Ok, so that's probably a bit too far out for a countdown, but I'm just getting really excited. Mason James Slovick will enter this world Friday morning at around 8:00 AM, and these last few hours are ones I hope to spend reflecting as well as wondering. I have had a tremendous last year and a half, with more life changes than I could have ever imagined. My time at home has allowed me to really explore not only the world around me, but also the person inside me. I feel like I've learned how to be a better husband and father, although it admittedly took quite a bit of shoving to get me over that precipice. I'm far from perfect, but at least I'm headed in the general direction.

I can't wait to meet my son on Friday.

You can count on continuous updates throughout the weekend, as I'll be armed with still and video cameras and the laptop at the hospital.

I decided to end this post with one last bird photo, since I am certain it'll be one of the last ones I take for a little while. It's a very cooperative Blackburnian Warbler I saw while birding at McGee Park in Concord on Tuesday.



EDIT: I'm going to leave the original post as it was and just add this note. That is NOT a Blackburnian Warbler. I struggled in the field to accept that ID, but I just didn't see anything else that made me say "Yes!". After posting the photo I picked up my Sibley Guide to The Birds, the larger copy that I keep at home. It's nearly identical to the Field version that I carry, but sometimes a fresh look at a different guide will open your eyes. This bird, upon further review, is a new life and Big Year bird for me. It is a Black-throated Green Warbler, and judging by the dull streaking on its breast I'd say it's a juvenile example of the species. Feel free to make fun of me for the mistaken ID, I know I've got it coming.

Go Commodores!

There's one unwritten rule of blogging that I've tried to follow since I started this blog last summer. Put simply . . don't write about stuff that will get you ridiculed. I think I've done well with that until now, but the streak will no doubt end today. Why, you ask? Two words: Vanderbilt football.

That's right my friends, The Vanderbilt Commodores football team is 4-0, 2-0 in SEC play and ranked #19 in the country. Let's forget, just for a moment, that their 2 SEC wins are against South Carolina, whose collection of quarterbacks couldn't start for at least 10 Charlotte-area high school teams, and lowly Ole Miss, although to Ole Miss's credit, they did beat Florida in Gainesville AND they hosted the first Presidential debate this year. Pithy put-downs aside, wins are wins, and the Commodores should make no apologies for their current record. Florida doesn't get to say "Well, one of our losses was to Ole Miss, and they suck", so Vandy can flaunt the win without an asterisk.

Today the Commodores take on the #13 Auburn Tigers, a one-loss team that's a perennial power in the SEC's Western division. Their one loss this season came at the hands of LSU, a top-five program by all accounts. The Tigers get their star running back back from injuries today, and they come to Nashville today as the favorite to win the 6:00 EST matchup.

Noteworthy about the game today is, among other things, the fact that ESPN's College Gameday is being broadcast from the Commodores' home in Nashville, TN for the first time in its history. The #19 ranking in the national poll is Vanderbilt's highest such ranking in nearly 50 years, and I'd venture to guess there aren't a whole lot of folks out there that expect it to continue after tonight's game. Those skeptics have a lot to base their predictions on, namely Vandy's paltry offensive and devensive production numbers for the season. The Commodores aren't ranked in the top 70 in the country in either offense or defense. But, as you'd expect from an academically-focused school like Vanderbilt, their team is extremely well disciplined, so much so that they're the least penalized team in the SEC. When you're trying to take down the big boys, you can't afford the little mistakes that can cost you yards, drives, and points. Also noteworthy is the Commodores' #1 ranking in all of college football in terms of turnover margin. Vandy's offense takes care of the football, and the defensive playmakers and schemes create turnovers by their opponents.

Now listen, people. I'm asking for a little bit of help today. It just so happens that on the hour of this highly-publicized, important matchup for my alma mater's team I will be attending, of all things, a wedding. For a couple that, quite frankly, I'm not overly fond of. But, we've already bought the gifts, so we'll be going to the wedding and hoping for both an open bar and a TV tuned to ESPN at the reception. If I don't find a TV, I expect all of you to flip on the tube around 6:00 Eastern and root for the Commodores to upset Auburn tonight. If you don't, just at least tell me you did, so that I can feel better. If anyone wants to take on the role of "scoring update text-messager", feel free. And now, we will return to our regularly scheduled birds-and-kids themed programming here at The Guide.

Owl #3

This morning I planned to bird on the McEachern Greenway near Downtown Concord. When I got to the parking lot, I decided to change plans and explore the area on the other side of the park, near where construction is beginning on the Downtown Connector Greenway. The vegetation has been cleared out for the connector, but no work has been done yet on the actual improvements. I saw this as an opportunity to explore the area before it becomes heavily trafficked.

The weather this morning was perfect, low 60's, no humidity, clear sunny sky. The birds obviously thought it was pretty great as well, because they were active, vocal, and surprisingly congenial. I was getting great looks at numerous species, including Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers, American Redstarts, and throngs of Carolina Wrens. In one of the deepest parts of the woods I saw a raptor fly out and across the clearing above the path. I looked up and got a great view of my third owl of the year, a Barred Owl. He was gone within a matter of seconds, but his markings and shape were unmistakeable, so I feel confident in the ID. It took me long enough, but I finally added all three of the area's common owls to my Big Year list.

There is no really exciting conclusion to this story . . the owl's pretty much it. I did, however, get a couple of good photos, so I figure why not share them. Ok, so the one of the Black and White Warbler isn't exactly a "good" photo, but photos of warblers are so danged difficult to get that I feel obligated to share them. As always, click the photos to enlarge. In order, they're Downy Woodpecker (male), Black-and-White Warbler, Brown Thrasher, Common Yellowthroat (female), and Northern Cardinal (duh, male).

Say it ain't so!

The girls and I had already taken one long walk around the neighborhood this afternoon, but the cabin fever was still lingering. Granted, it was Mandi that was suffering from it, but as she's far less mobile than the rest of us these days, it's up to me to get the kids out of the house when their rambunctiousness threatens to drive her over the edge. So, after dinner, we put on our coats and headed out for another walk around the block.

Our first walk took us toward the main roads and the playground, so this time we decided to go the other direction and head down toward the nature trail. It quickly became obvious, as it often does, that Lily would need to be coaxed into keeping up with Avery and I, so I enticed her to pick up the pace by promising to walk by her friend Matt's house. The tactic seemed to work well, as she immediately picked up the pace and said, "Ooh, yeah, I wanna go play with him!"

As we made our way down the street the end-game began to evolve. The prospect of simply playing with Matt seemed to be losing its luster, so eventually her plan morphed into a much more endearing one. Now she did not want to play, but rather she wanted to go give Matt a hug. I began to formulate my rationale for not actually stopping at Matt's house, which frankly was not that difficult because it was getting both chilly and dark outside. Surely she'd go for that line of reasoning.


Then, as we rounded the corner and passed by Matt's neighbor's house, Lily changed things up again. But this time, I was ill-prepared.

As she asked to go ring the doorbell, I started in with the "It's too cold and it's getting dark" spiel. Undaunted, she replied with something I never saw coming, and the only response I could muster was one of unbridled laughter.

"Daddy, can we PLEEEEEEASE go see Matt???"

"No, Lily, we've got to get home!"

"But Dadddddddyyyy, I really want to give Matt a kiss!"

"Baaahhhhhh!!!"

I literally laughed out loud . . so loud that I'm quite sure a few neighbors came to their front doors to see what the heck was going on. I hurried the girls along and assured Lily that not only would we not be going to Matt's house, but that the next time he came over to play they would NOT be allowed out of my sight!

They grow up so quickly, eh?

The Name Remains The Same

You can call me a Led Zeppelin fan if you want. I wouldn't . . fan, after all, is short for "fanatic".

I have, however, appreciated the music of Page, Plant, et al since way back in high school. A neighbor, Kevin Byrd (I hope he doesn't mind being made famous), had a great collection of 1970's classic rock music, and he generously allowed me access to it while I babysat his kid. It was then that I discovered Houses of The Holy, and its opening track "The Song Remains The Same". I tell you all of this hoping that you'll forgive me for so blatantly plagarizing the title to this post, which will eventually be about something totally unrelated to Led Zeppelin or their music.

It does have something to do with another partially plagarized title with which you're all familiar . . the title of this blog. I can say with conviction that there were only two books that I read during high school which ever were scanned by my retina any time after that. The first was Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston, and I only re-read it because in a discussion about it years later I realized I had absolutely no recollection of what the book was really about. The second, of course, was The Hithchikers Guide to The Galaxy, by Douglas Adams. I have re-read The Guide at least ten times since Ms. Wilson's AP English class, and it gets funnier every time. I think it just resonated with my personality . . strange, sarcastic, and often incomprehensible. I chose the name Stay-at-Home Dad's Guide to The Galaxy not because I intended to teach anyone anything, but because I thought it was clever. I stand by that decision.

With that foundation laid, we arrive at the point of this post. As of Wednesday of this week I am gainfully employed and, therefore, no longer exclusively a stay-at-home dad. I have taken a position with the YMCA as Sports Program Coordinator, a job I think fits my skill set nicely.

Communication skills? I'd like to think so.

Experience managing teenagers? Unfortunately, a lot of it.

Ability to effectively handle complaints? Depends on how effective "stuff it" is . .

Essentially, I'll be running the sports leagues for kids age 3-13, including soccer, flag football, baseball, basketball, and whatever else comes along. It was time to get Daddy out of the house a few days a week, and this came along with perfect timing.

Fear not though my loyal reader(s) (really depends on the day), even though its accuracy could now be called into question, I will not be changing the name of the blog. I figure since it was never really that accurate of a name to begin with, it shouldn't cause too much of a stir if I stick with it after changing "titles". Any complaints with this logic can be sent straight to the head of our customer care department. That address is haywoodyabuzzoff@stayathomedadsguide.com.

Write It In Pencil

When making important decisions in life, one of the smartest things an individual can do is exercise patience. Anything that has the potential to define who you are deserves this type of prudence.

Take, as an example, a couple whose lifelong dream it has been to own their own restaurant. What steps do they take? They probably spend a year or two saving up the money, picking out a location, and deciding on the menu. They may spend half a year building the restaurant, six more weeks hiring staff and managers, three weeks training them, and the next 15 years turning their dream into their legacy.

With that in mind, a question arises. What's in a name?

In the words of William Shakespeare, "That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet."

But is that really the whole story? Or is it possible that a flower, or even a restaurant, could be forever tainted by its name. In a word . . I'm pretty sure it can.

I offer you this example as a case in point. I was at the gym today when something struck me. It was a t-shirt, worn by someone exercising directly in front of me. People wear all kinds of things to the gym, certainly not the worst of which are t-shirts advertising restaurants they frequent. Remember the lady with the leopard print and the house shoes?

This shirt, in comparison, was benign. It didn't dawn on me until the third or fourth time I read the shirt how completely unfortunate the name of this particular restaurant was. Again, not offensive or absurd to the point that it stood out like a sore thumb, just something that after processing it a few times seemed truly, well, not good.

Yep, you read it right . . the name of the establishment is Sanitary Fish Market and Restaurant. Now doesn't that just smack of a comfortable and relaxing place to unwind after a long day at work? I mean seriously . . how many bevnaps did you go through writing down possible names for your life's ambition before you came up with "Sanitary"? Was it an oversight . . you did EVERYTHING else, were ready to open the doors, and when the sign painters came and asked you what you wanted on the monument sign you were just dumbfounded.

"Well hell Mable, I hadn't given that a lick o' thought."

"Me either Paw."

"Well, what should we go with?"

"I don't rightly know Paw."

"The health department said the place was mighty sanitary. You think that might would make folks feel at ease on days when the buffet ain't holdin' temp?"

"Heck yeah Paw, that dog'll hunt!"

Whatever the case, I think the name you give your establishment deserves at least a night's sleep worth of consideration. Write it down, in pencil, and come back and look at it again in the morning. Does it say everything you want it to say about you? Who knows, maybe the sanitation's the only selling point of this particular fish camp (besides the t-shirts, that is). If not, I suggest giving it a little more thought.

Goals Achieved

I'm home. The drive back was quick and painless, and I had plenty of time to reflect on my weekend of solitude and birding. I went into the trip with a few "soft" goals, and I met them all.

Goal number one was to exceed the 150 species mark on my Big Year list. As of this evening, the number stands at a respectable 162 species identified. I'm happy with that number, and I expect it will climb a bit higher as migration continues throughout the area.

Goal number two was to see AN owl in the field. I saw 4 this weekend, 3 Eastern Screech Owls and one Great Horned Owl. The look at the Great Horned wasn't great, but nonetheless I saw it. The Screech Owl might just be the cutest bird in existence.

And goal number three was to see all three of the falcons prevalent in the United States. This one looked like it might not materialize, as my stop at the Hawk Watch platform was on the windiest day of the weekend, and the numbers were way down. I managed to see numerous American Kestrels and Merlins, but the final falcon remained an enigma. My Eleanor, if you will.

Then, this morning, as we were making our way back to the parking lot after a 3-hour hike at Wise Point, a medium-sized raptor unlike any we were accustomed to seeing came overhead. Four of us looked and looked as it soared on a thermal, all unable to ID the bird. Then, as if it had sensed our discouragement and just felt sorry for us, it dove down to near tree-top level to give us a better look. Long, pointed wings? Check. Pushes its wings forward when diving? Check. Large, unmistakable black "mustache"? Check. Ahh!! Peregrine Falcon! I called it first, everyone else immediately agreed, and I had done it . . all three goals had been achieved! The Peregrine Falcon is one of the most amazing animals in the world, capable of achieving speeds in flight of over 160 miles per hour, and to see one at that moment added a marvelous exclamation point to the end of my otherwise exhilarating (and slightly exhausting) weekend.