There's a running joke in my family about just how lucky my dog Daisy is. So first a little backstory for those of you that don't know:
Daisy's mom wondered onto my Grandma's farm in 1998 and decided that she was going to set up camp there. At the time we had one family dog, Sarah, who was fiercely loyal to my dad, but also wouldn't play with me if I had a steak tied around my neck. I could call her until I had no more voice, but Sarah ignored me. While we found it amusing at times, we also decided that it was time to get me a new dog. The stray that had stumbled onto the farm in Groom seemed like the perfect solution, almost as though it was fate.
My Grandma went ahead and let me basically lay claim to one of the soon-to-be born puppies, and I waited anxiously for the puppy that seemingly would never be born. Finally, on my Grandma's 80th birthday, we decided to go to Groom to take her out for dinner. When we got back to the farm, two baby puppies had been born.
After waiting a few weeks for the babies to become big enough, we finally drove back to the farm to pick up my new dog. At this time, the two puppies had made their home underneath some irrigation pipes. It turned out to be a perfect hiding spot, as there was no way for human to get to them. At this point, we were at the mercy of these two puppies, hoping that one of them would step forward to become my dog. After several minutes, finally the darker-haired one did.
For those that know Daisy, that was probably the last moment of bravery in her life. The puppy that didn't come out hung out at my Grandma's farm for a few years, but died far too soon. Meanwhile, Daisy came home. And while she would have a neurotic fear of every moving creature she came across, that dog latched onto me. There is no doubt that that dog and I were made for each other. If she hadn't taken that one brave step out from under the irrigation pipes, she would've never had that companionship or the luxury that she would grow to have.
And so we joke about how that one lucky step ended up setting Daisy for life. But then I got to think about it, and aren't we all like that? I mean, I'm pretty lucky to have the family, friends, and job(s) that I do, and most of those pretty much fell into my lap. Sometimes it was just a matter of catching a lucky break here or there.
Everytime I think of the story of Daisy coming into my life, it also reminds me to think about the power of fate. Not to sound too LOST-ish, but nothing really is a coincidence. Everything that's happened in our lives is integral to the story of how we came to be where we are today. Just like how everything that happens today will be the foundation of our lives tomorrow.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
My own little fantasy
My calendar year can basically be broken into three sections: LOST season (January - May), summer season (June - August), and football season (September - December). Fortunately, we're beginning to make the transition into football season this year.
Between being a radio broadcaster, fantasy football owner, and Cowboys fan, I'm priveleged to have football consume my entire life during the fall. I love the work I get to do with broadcasting area high school games, as well as working with Nick Long on our scoreboard show Friday nights. Saturday and during the week I get to have a small role in the WT football broadcasts, along with getting to watch all the college games on my new 42-inch TV.
And then there is Sunday. Oh sweet Sunday. Sundays used to be devoted to Cowboys football, and nothing else. Cowboys games are still the main event on Sunday for me, but last year I was introduced to something that would change my life forever. In my lifelong trend to jump on things five years after they become wildly popular, I became the owner of a fantasy football team. The 815ers were born, and the first season was a success...as my team racked up the best record and the most points in our 12-team league. They may have fizzled out in the playoffs, but I don't really remember that day much.
The thing is, this is the most addictive thing I've ever done. A game between Arizona and Seattle used to mean nothing to me, until I had Larry Fitzgerald on my team. A Giants/Redskins game used to mean divisional implications for the Cowboys, but last year it was hoping that Eli Manning and Santana Moss would rack up as many points as possible.
We would use the week leading up to our games to trash talk our weekly opponent. If it was a close friend, every piece of dirty laundry imaginable was aired on the message board. Eric literally got drunk and started a fight with another team owner. This is fantasy football. The draft is one month from today.
Between being a radio broadcaster, fantasy football owner, and Cowboys fan, I'm priveleged to have football consume my entire life during the fall. I love the work I get to do with broadcasting area high school games, as well as working with Nick Long on our scoreboard show Friday nights. Saturday and during the week I get to have a small role in the WT football broadcasts, along with getting to watch all the college games on my new 42-inch TV.
And then there is Sunday. Oh sweet Sunday. Sundays used to be devoted to Cowboys football, and nothing else. Cowboys games are still the main event on Sunday for me, but last year I was introduced to something that would change my life forever. In my lifelong trend to jump on things five years after they become wildly popular, I became the owner of a fantasy football team. The 815ers were born, and the first season was a success...as my team racked up the best record and the most points in our 12-team league. They may have fizzled out in the playoffs, but I don't really remember that day much.
The thing is, this is the most addictive thing I've ever done. A game between Arizona and Seattle used to mean nothing to me, until I had Larry Fitzgerald on my team. A Giants/Redskins game used to mean divisional implications for the Cowboys, but last year it was hoping that Eli Manning and Santana Moss would rack up as many points as possible.
We would use the week leading up to our games to trash talk our weekly opponent. If it was a close friend, every piece of dirty laundry imaginable was aired on the message board. Eric literally got drunk and started a fight with another team owner. This is fantasy football. The draft is one month from today.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
How do you start a blog?
This morning at work I was browsing the internet and finally stumbled on the blog of James Rardon, our scoreboard operator at the Dilla Villa, and the man that has been my mentor and friend at the ballpark's humble press box. About an hour after checking out some of his posts it dawned on me: Hey you can do this too you idiot. I might still be figuring out Twitter, but damn it I can write!
Thus begun the morning I decided to create a blog. If my dad had been sitting next to me, I would've looked over at him, shrugged my shoulders and said "How hard could it be?" Truth be told, it was fairly simple. I just made the situation more difficult than it really was.
The extravaganza began with having to come up with a name for my blog. Allow me to clarify: a name for my blog that hasn't been taken by the 481,562,342 people that came up with this idea before me. Obviously "adam" was taken. Same for "adamcox," whose blog-owner has made a grand total of ONE post in the several years he's had that name. Jerk. Fifteen minutes later and dozens of Adam/LOST-related attempts at coming up with a blog name, I came to "Room 233". The name is a play both on an episode of LOST, and a reference to my apartment number. In LOST, Room 23 is the room The Others used to brainwash people into their society, and 233 is my apartment number. Please don't stalk me.
So voila, I had a name. All I had to do to create my blog was type in that little security word to let the good people at Blogger know that I'm not a robot, hell-bent on world destruction (the jury's still out whether I'm a human hell-bent on world destruction, but that's another entry). I'm sure you're all familiar with these words, the ones that are hardly words at all, and feature letters so mangled that they look like Egyptian hieroglyphics mixed in with the Prince symbol.
First try: fail
Second try: fail
When I got to the third try, I was genuinely concerned that the internets would think I was the aforementioned robot, so the pressure was on. Fortunately I was able to type in some word that the National Spelling Bee kids would be proud to spell, and tada: I had a blog.
"Yahoo! I'm rich!" I thought. Crap, now I have to figure out something to write about. Any good ideas had been replaced with the frustration and near-disaster that was the creation of the blog itself. And there you have the content for this first post. I don't know how frequently I'll post. Maybe a couple times a day, maybe a couple times a week, maybe a couple times a month, or maybe a couple times period. I don't want to set any kind of standards for myself where I feel like I have to ever post. So if I go a while without posting, forgive me. With that said, welcome to the thunderdome, bitch! I mean Room 233. Welcome to Room 233. Sir.
Thus begun the morning I decided to create a blog. If my dad had been sitting next to me, I would've looked over at him, shrugged my shoulders and said "How hard could it be?" Truth be told, it was fairly simple. I just made the situation more difficult than it really was.
The extravaganza began with having to come up with a name for my blog. Allow me to clarify: a name for my blog that hasn't been taken by the 481,562,342 people that came up with this idea before me. Obviously "adam" was taken. Same for "adamcox," whose blog-owner has made a grand total of ONE post in the several years he's had that name. Jerk. Fifteen minutes later and dozens of Adam/LOST-related attempts at coming up with a blog name, I came to "Room 233". The name is a play both on an episode of LOST, and a reference to my apartment number. In LOST, Room 23 is the room The Others used to brainwash people into their society, and 233 is my apartment number. Please don't stalk me.
So voila, I had a name. All I had to do to create my blog was type in that little security word to let the good people at Blogger know that I'm not a robot, hell-bent on world destruction (the jury's still out whether I'm a human hell-bent on world destruction, but that's another entry). I'm sure you're all familiar with these words, the ones that are hardly words at all, and feature letters so mangled that they look like Egyptian hieroglyphics mixed in with the Prince symbol.
First try: fail
Second try: fail
When I got to the third try, I was genuinely concerned that the internets would think I was the aforementioned robot, so the pressure was on. Fortunately I was able to type in some word that the National Spelling Bee kids would be proud to spell, and tada: I had a blog.
"Yahoo! I'm rich!" I thought. Crap, now I have to figure out something to write about. Any good ideas had been replaced with the frustration and near-disaster that was the creation of the blog itself. And there you have the content for this first post. I don't know how frequently I'll post. Maybe a couple times a day, maybe a couple times a week, maybe a couple times a month, or maybe a couple times period. I don't want to set any kind of standards for myself where I feel like I have to ever post. So if I go a while without posting, forgive me. With that said, welcome to the thunderdome, bitch! I mean Room 233. Welcome to Room 233. Sir.
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