Well, the Voyagers went down tonight in the semi's. Good game, but we lost 4-3 to the regular season champs. Maybe we'll get our name on the Southsides plaque next season.

If one more person asks if Kim's "nesting" yet, I think we'll both go nuts. Sure, she's got things to do, but nesting? That's what Bailey does when she's tired... she wraps herself up in the blanket, and makes herself into the tightest ball that she can and squeezes her eyes shut.

I haven't seen Kim do that yet, and somehow I don't expect to.

However, her bag is finally packed in anticipation of needing to use it soon. I guess I'll have to put mine together soon as well.

Something I certainly remember about looking back on my Dad's influential moments, was the time I was handed a copy of the USCGA text Service Etiquette. I was a freshman in High School, and thought I was some kind of stud, because I was playing on the JV soccer team, and my girlfreind at the time, had stayed after school to watch the game. So after the game, which if I remember correctly we lost, here I am walking from the field back to the locker room, with the ballbag over one shoulder, and hand-in-hand with my girlfriend.

PDA's. Not Palm-Pilots or iPaq's or ipods, Public Displays of Affection. That didn't go over so well. And looking back, it's no surprise. When I see kids at concerts groping and heavy petting on the councourses and in dark corners, it makes me want to puke.

So now I feel the need to make absolutely certain that my son is a perfect gentleman. Did some reading this afternoon, and came up with a nice list of pointers that seen to make perfect sense for the current era.

I have indeed become my father's son.