Just three days ago, it was nearly eighty degrees. Last night the temperature plunged to the twenties and they're calling for snow this evening. It's true what they say, if you don't like the weather in the south, just wait a day...it'll change. So now it's time for my nose to start stuffing up, it always does in the spring and fall, when the mother nature is true to her womanly ways and she can't decide what the hell the temp will be from one day to the next.

The cold front that moved in was savage. Some sort of freak thing. The winds gusted up to 80 miles an hour and in some cases got as high as 100. A quarter of a million people were without power, and some still are today. Trees fell on cars and houses. I would have thought most of the frailer trees came down in that bad ice storm we had a few years ago.

One man was killed in his yard by a falling tree when he decided to save his precious patio furniture. Of course, if it had blown into the house next door, he'd be paying the damages, but seems his life is worth much more. But we never think such things will happen to us. And when it's your time, it's your time.

That's the funny thing about fate, if you believe in such things. Here just a few years ago, a crew member of one of NASCAR's team lost his wife in a car accident. They had taken a limo to Greensboro or Raliegh for something, don't remember what, and on the way home were hit by a drunken driver. She'd just spent two years fighting cancer and had finally gone into remission. I guess what medicine thwarts, circumstance makes up for.

These little twisted tales of irony fascinate me. I don't know why. I heard on the news not too long ago about a man who piloted a freedom boat from Cuba. He was already in America, but his wife and two children remained there. So in order to get his family here with him, he volunteered to drive the boat. Before they could reach the coast of Florida, the boat sank. He was one of only a handful of survivors. His wife and children all perished at sea. No writer could make this stuff up.

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on to other things.

My son is growing up so quickly. Way before I've had time to give him some precious childhood memories. We simply haven't had the money or have been too self-involved in our own lives. I feel guilty. I feel bad.

We given him some experiences a lot of kids his age haven't had. He's gone to races, hockey games, basketball games, a ski trip and concerts(hell, we took him to OzzFest...something his friends find unbelievable and are envious over). We managed a trip to the beach. But he never got to enjoy one or two weeks at summer camp. Maybe I'm idealistic about that. Most kids gripe. But I remember going to a weekend camp and I loved it.

I never got to take him to Disney World. But hell, I've never been there myself. I was 17 before I even went to Disney Land...not the same thing folks, I can assure you.

So I have to tell myself, in the long run it doesn't matter. He's had plenty of experiences. And I'm pleased with the person he is, despite his laziness, which he totally gets from me. He's always been an individual. Always his own man. And we've never pushed him to do or like the things we do. We've always left it up to him to decide.

One of my favorite stories from his childhood is when he was about six or seven. He was going trick or treating with a friend from school. The mother shows up to take them. He runs to her car, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, rollerblades slung across his back.

She asked, "Where's your costume? What are you going as?"

He hopped in her SUV and replied. "I'm going as the neighbor kid."

Truth is, he never could stand make-up or masks. When he was three and four, his face would be smudged with dirt, his knees encrusted, but heaven forbid if his hands were dirty.

One Halloween, he went as a Doom character. When we went to put fake blood on his arms and face, he balked.

So really the "neighborhood kid" was simply just the easiest.

The one thing about his individuality that I know...he will not let others talk him into something he doesn't want to do. He'd rather hang out by himself, than do something he doesn't want to, even if it means not hanging out with his friends.

so guilt aside at the minor things, I'm pretty pleased with the person he is. And as far as that goes, I've done a pretty good job.

yes, they grow up so quickly. It's hard to believe that in three more years, he'll be old enough to vote. And old enough to be shipped to a "cause" I don't believe in. That's the scariest thing. Canada is so close, yet so far.