Apparently, the automated blog police at Blogger had the wrong man. I am in fact not a spammer. I cannot describe to you my relief. Not that they apologized or anything, but now I can post on my own blog without having to retype a sqiggly word.
However, should you be interested in refinancing your quality fake handbags full of male enhancement pills...
Nolanbuck
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Spam, I Am?
Just tonight, I've noticed that this blog has been flagged as spam by Blogger.com. Now I admit I tend to ramble abit, but spam? Seriously? SPAM? What in the name of all that good am I supposed to be selling (besides crackpot ideas, that is)?
This is a most disappointing turn of events. 2BucksWorth may not be the most popular blog on the interwebs, but to be accused of spamming by my own blog provider is disconcerting at best. I'll have to hope that Blogger comes to it's senses and starts picking on real spammers, or I'll be looking for greener pastures.
Nolanbuck
This is a most disappointing turn of events. 2BucksWorth may not be the most popular blog on the interwebs, but to be accused of spamming by my own blog provider is disconcerting at best. I'll have to hope that Blogger comes to it's senses and starts picking on real spammers, or I'll be looking for greener pastures.
Nolanbuck
Marching Bands
This past weekend, the lovely and talented DebbieBuck & I began our yearly series of pilgrimages to various and sundry high school marching band competitions. Our youngest son is a sophomore, and the section leader of the alto saxophones, a fact of which I am unabashedly proud. Debbie & I have been band-parents for 7 years (our Eldest was also a sax player), and I will freely admit to getting all geeked up about it this time of year. I myself participated in marching band in high school, one year as a trombone player, and three of the best autumns of my life as a percussionist (a drummer to you philistines who don't know the difference).
To fully comprehend how engrossing marching band can be, one has to have experienced it. For those who have not, I can scarcely describe the thrill of competing in a marching band contest, the pride and espirit de corps of working together as a unit to produce a product that is both musically and visually pleasing. It is not easy, it requires hours of practice on your insturment of choice to master the music, then more hours in the sun and wind and rain standing at attention and marching around a practice field learning each set until the movements become second nature.
It is at once a sport and art, physical and yet cerebral, beautiful but demanding. And to a band member, halftimes at Friday night football games are mere dress rehersals for the real show on Saturdays, when bands rule the field and clash in a contest of musicianship, skill, and pride. Every member must do his/her job, play every note, make every mark, or the whole band suffers. Each person has their own unique role to fill that no one else can do.
The only thing that comes close to being in a marching band is to be a band parent. God love band parents: working in concession stands, moving the equipment, riding the "yellow dogs" across the state, these folks are what makes the band work. But standing in the stands on Saturdays and cheering as your children do their best on the field, that makes it worth the effort.
October is the Superbowl of marching band, and only high school bands compete against one another (with the exception of drum corps, but that's on a whole different level). This month, is you find yourself with a Saturday free, I encourage you to go check out a high school marching band competition. All-day admission is reasonable, and there's always plenty of good food on hand. If you do go...don't be surprised if you find yourself cheering. And if you are fortunate enough to see our band perform, I'll be the nut in the stands with the very large yellow banner.
BTW, in case you're curious: our son's band won Reserve Grand Champion (2nd place) in two contests in the same day. Go Quistor band!!
Nolanbuck
To fully comprehend how engrossing marching band can be, one has to have experienced it. For those who have not, I can scarcely describe the thrill of competing in a marching band contest, the pride and espirit de corps of working together as a unit to produce a product that is both musically and visually pleasing. It is not easy, it requires hours of practice on your insturment of choice to master the music, then more hours in the sun and wind and rain standing at attention and marching around a practice field learning each set until the movements become second nature.
It is at once a sport and art, physical and yet cerebral, beautiful but demanding. And to a band member, halftimes at Friday night football games are mere dress rehersals for the real show on Saturdays, when bands rule the field and clash in a contest of musicianship, skill, and pride. Every member must do his/her job, play every note, make every mark, or the whole band suffers. Each person has their own unique role to fill that no one else can do.
The only thing that comes close to being in a marching band is to be a band parent. God love band parents: working in concession stands, moving the equipment, riding the "yellow dogs" across the state, these folks are what makes the band work. But standing in the stands on Saturdays and cheering as your children do their best on the field, that makes it worth the effort.
October is the Superbowl of marching band, and only high school bands compete against one another (with the exception of drum corps, but that's on a whole different level). This month, is you find yourself with a Saturday free, I encourage you to go check out a high school marching band competition. All-day admission is reasonable, and there's always plenty of good food on hand. If you do go...don't be surprised if you find yourself cheering. And if you are fortunate enough to see our band perform, I'll be the nut in the stands with the very large yellow banner.
BTW, in case you're curious: our son's band won Reserve Grand Champion (2nd place) in two contests in the same day. Go Quistor band!!
Nolanbuck
Friday, September 25, 2009
Just Dancin'
Weekend Family Feature
(Nolanbuck note: Since I concentrate on current events through the week, I'm going to make it a point to post a more family-centered post or two each weekend. Also, look for another Buck to perhaps make his debut as a contributor here at 2Bucksworth.com. More on that later...)
My oldest son recently reminded me of one of the more hilarious episodes in his childhood (he's now 20). Since he brought it up, I don't feel bad about sharing it with the rest of the planet. LOL
The year was 1995, and my wife, our sons (ages 6, 3 & 1) and I had just moved into the new house that we had built (there's a story in itself.). We had been wallpapering the kitchen earlier in the day, but the wife & I had left the Eldest (6) and Coppertop (3) in the living room watching tv while we went upstairs with the baby to move a piece of furniture into one of the kids' rooms.
We did not intend to be upstairs for long, and were only in the room for a few minutes when we heard Coppertop ascending the stairs, audibly upset. We waited for him to arrive to let us know the source of his discontent (3 year olds move slowly on stairs, unless they are headed down diaper-over-teakettle, in which case they make fairly rapid progress). When he found us he was wet from head to toe and not the least bit happy about it. When we asked him how he got so wet, he gave us a one word explanation, Eldest.
So we called Eldest upstairs to see what he knew. Obviously, he was as "shocked" as we were to see the soggy state of his middlest brother, and posited that perhaps Coppertop had pulled the dipping tray for the wallpaper down upon his own red head, thus releasing the torrent that drenched him.
Well, as the wet kid dripped dry, we all went down to the kitchen to unravel this whodunit. Two things became immediately apparent: 1) the tray had been empty and placed in the sink when we left the kitchen and 2) the tray in the kitchen sink was much too high for little Coppertop to reach without help. Faced with this evidence, Eldest never wavered, claiming he had not even been in the room. I was fairly certain Eldest had filled the tray with water and dumped it on his unsuspecting toddler of a brother, but I played along...
"Where were you then", I asked.
"In the living room", the oldest calmly replied.
Well, what were you doing in the living room", I queried.
Without batting an eye, he says: "I was dancin'. "
"Really?" I answered, choking down a chortle. Thinking I'd finally tripped him up, I went in for the kill... "Could you show me this dance?", I asked.
Without a word of protest, my 6 year old son launched into an impromtu flurry of intepretive dance that looked like a cross between "Swan Lake" and "Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo". By the time he got to the big finish (he stuck the landing, BTW) I was laughing so hard I could not continue the cross-examination and I conceeded the field.
I knew he'd doused his brother, that wasn't the point. Coppertop was waterproof and all brothers do things like that to each other. But in trying to teach Eldest a lesson about honesty I learned a lesson of my own: smart kids are difficult to outwit, but smart kids with rythym win everytime.
Nolanbuck
(Nolanbuck note: Since I concentrate on current events through the week, I'm going to make it a point to post a more family-centered post or two each weekend. Also, look for another Buck to perhaps make his debut as a contributor here at 2Bucksworth.com. More on that later...)
My oldest son recently reminded me of one of the more hilarious episodes in his childhood (he's now 20). Since he brought it up, I don't feel bad about sharing it with the rest of the planet. LOL
The year was 1995, and my wife, our sons (ages 6, 3 & 1) and I had just moved into the new house that we had built (there's a story in itself.). We had been wallpapering the kitchen earlier in the day, but the wife & I had left the Eldest (6) and Coppertop (3) in the living room watching tv while we went upstairs with the baby to move a piece of furniture into one of the kids' rooms.
We did not intend to be upstairs for long, and were only in the room for a few minutes when we heard Coppertop ascending the stairs, audibly upset. We waited for him to arrive to let us know the source of his discontent (3 year olds move slowly on stairs, unless they are headed down diaper-over-teakettle, in which case they make fairly rapid progress). When he found us he was wet from head to toe and not the least bit happy about it. When we asked him how he got so wet, he gave us a one word explanation, Eldest.
So we called Eldest upstairs to see what he knew. Obviously, he was as "shocked" as we were to see the soggy state of his middlest brother, and posited that perhaps Coppertop had pulled the dipping tray for the wallpaper down upon his own red head, thus releasing the torrent that drenched him.
Well, as the wet kid dripped dry, we all went down to the kitchen to unravel this whodunit. Two things became immediately apparent: 1) the tray had been empty and placed in the sink when we left the kitchen and 2) the tray in the kitchen sink was much too high for little Coppertop to reach without help. Faced with this evidence, Eldest never wavered, claiming he had not even been in the room. I was fairly certain Eldest had filled the tray with water and dumped it on his unsuspecting toddler of a brother, but I played along...
"Where were you then", I asked.
"In the living room", the oldest calmly replied.
Well, what were you doing in the living room", I queried.
Without batting an eye, he says: "I was dancin'. "
"Really?" I answered, choking down a chortle. Thinking I'd finally tripped him up, I went in for the kill... "Could you show me this dance?", I asked.
Without a word of protest, my 6 year old son launched into an impromtu flurry of intepretive dance that looked like a cross between "Swan Lake" and "Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo". By the time he got to the big finish (he stuck the landing, BTW) I was laughing so hard I could not continue the cross-examination and I conceeded the field.
I knew he'd doused his brother, that wasn't the point. Coppertop was waterproof and all brothers do things like that to each other. But in trying to teach Eldest a lesson about honesty I learned a lesson of my own: smart kids are difficult to outwit, but smart kids with rythym win everytime.
Nolanbuck
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Her Body, Not Her Choice
I know that this story is from the UK, but still I have to wonder when the prochoice groups are going to rush to this woman's aid. But then again, hypocrisy among left wing advocacy groups is nothing new.
After all, if a man puts an embryo in a woman's plumbing, he has no say in what the woman decides to do with it. But if a doctor puts it there, suddenly the donor gets a vote? What happened to "my body, my choice"?
Nolanbuck
After all, if a man puts an embryo in a woman's plumbing, he has no say in what the woman decides to do with it. But if a doctor puts it there, suddenly the donor gets a vote? What happened to "my body, my choice"?
Nolanbuck
It's a Tax!
Yes, boys & girls, if the government takes your money without your permission...even if it's "for your own good"... it's a tax.
Nolanbuck
Nolanbuck
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
