Were you the winner?

If you had November 22, 2006 in the "Luke loses his wedding ring" pool, please step forward to claim your prize.

That's right, after a little more than three years of marriage, my wedding ring is now lost, most likely never to be seen again.

My ring has always been a little big for my finger, so I could slide it off fairly easily (not that I did it often, but sometimes I'd be bored at work and flip it like a coin or something else to pass the time waiting for a phone call.)

But in the past month, I've noticed it would come off my finger really easily. It would catch my attention as it passed over the knuckle and I'd secure it where it belonged.

Yes Dear jokingly asked why I didn't care about the symbol of her love that she gave me on our wedding day. She's also joked (I think) that I'm single now.

Since I've lost it, I've had a lot of people ask me where I lost the ring, as though I'd know the answer. If I knew where I lost it, I'd be able to find it.

It's like people who say they found what they find what they lost "in the last place I looked." Of course it's the last place you looked. Once you find it, you're not going to keep looking.

Walking on Sunshine

Note: The following hopefully will run in the Herald soon.

Many Georgia Southern football fans are disappointed with the results of this year’s team. Coming off an 8-3 regular season and – well, there’s no good way to say this – a collapse in the second half of their playoff game against Texas State, many fans were looking forward to a championship run this year with much of last year’s team coming back.

Unfortunately, it was not to be as Georgia Southern fired coach Mike Sewak and his staff and brought in Brian VanGorder to lead the Eagles to the Promised Land. Much like Moses and the Israelites, it may take us a while to reach the promised land of a national championship.
Heck, at this point, I think a lot of fans would like to see the “Hey, remember the playoffs” land.
But all those Negative Nancy’s are overlooking the good that VanGorder and his 3-7 have brought us by failing to make the playoffs.

First of all, our student-athletes will be able to spend Thanksgiving with their families, something that’s only happened one other time since 1997. With all effort and dedication the players put in for the program, it was exceedingly kind of VanGorder to give the players a losing season so they could spend the holiday with their family.

Surely they wouldn’t want to spend that week preparing for another playoff run and possible national title when they could be playing in the back yard with their younger brother and sister.
We hear a lot about family values in this country, but VanGorder is practicing what he preaches and, for that, deserves a pat on the back.

Also, without the hassle of preparing for playoff games, the student-athletes will have more time to dedicate to their studies. And if they’re like most students, they’ll want all the time they can to study before their final exams. Fortunately, they won’t have that pesky practice for playoff games to get in the way of their academic pursuits.

Under Sewak, the school lost scholarships due to academic issues, but thanks to VanGorder’s losing season, our players will have time to study.

Obviously the student comes first in student-athlete with VanGorder.

And while the players may reap the benefits, lets not forget about the coaches, who will get an extra month to recruit players that we haven’t had in the past. Instead of breaking down film of our next opponent, they can break down film of high school payers and try to convince them to become an Eagle.
But enough about the players and coaches, what about the benefits to the fans? For years, we had to sacrifice our Saturdays during the end of November and December to support our team in their quest for another national title.

And while many of us didn’t mind doing such, it drastically cut down on the number of available shopping days we had before Christmas. Let’s face it, traveling to Boone, N.C. or San Marcos, Texas on a Saturday for a playoff game isn’t the best use of the valuable holiday shopping time.

This year, fortunately, we’ve got the full allotment of Saturdays to complete our holiday shopping needs. That likely wouldn’t have happened had VanGorder not been here.

So all you Debbie Downers out there complaining, “woe is me, my team didn’t make the playoffs and our team greatly underachieved,” need to take a step back and realize how much VanGorder has done for this team and for you as fans.

While others around town may be upset with you, Mr. VanGorder, I am quite pleased with how you’re looking out for both the students and the fans. Pay no attention to the nay-sayers and I look forward to many more years of your excellent leadership.

An open letter to the dog in my neighborhood

Dear Mr. or Ms. Dog (whichever the case may be),

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Luke and my wife and I live in your neighborhood. I moved in a few months ago and have done my best to be a good neighbor.

We're quiet people who rarely throw parties and they're never loud. We try to keep our yard fairly nice (though the sod we were given wasn't very good, so the yard doesn't look great, but we're trying) and we're polite to all our neighbors.

And we don't even have a fence so you're free to roam around our yard if the desire strikes you.

Even the first time we met, you seemed nice, even following Yes Dear and I as we walked though the neighborhood before we got concerned for you and walked back to your house to let your owners (those people who feed you, they think they own you, I didn't know if you knew that or not) take you inside.

So I can't, for the life of me, figure out why you feel the need to bark at me every time I pass by your house now.

At first I thought it was because I'd wear a Cubs hat or jacket and you had some deep hatred for a team represented by an animal that could end your existence on this planet rather quickly. (You may not be aware, but bears, even little Cubs, are godless killing machines.)

But then I figured you're a dog and likely weren't affected by the designs on jackets or hats, especially when it's just the letter "C" and really wouldn't give any indication to your imminent demise.

Then I thought that you were concerned that I was invading your territory and you were simply defending your home turf. This seemed reasonable as here I was, a stranger, coming near your territory and you, being the good, albeit small, dog that you are, wanted to protect your family.

That got me thinking what I could do to help fix that problem. A friend of mine gave me one idea, but I'd rather not risk having my name show up in the police blotter for indecent exposure and trespassing just so you don't bark at me, so I had to pass on that.

I guess I could do what I did at my apartment before we moved and just buy dog treats and give you one each time I walked by, but at two to three times a day at five days a week, that could get costly quickly.

Plus, I'd rather not bribe you to be my friend. That's one step away from saying "I'm getting a Playstation 3 and if you'll be my friend, I'll let you play." I prefer to make my friends the old fashioned way - catch someone in a compromising position, obtain photographic evidence, and then blackmail them to be nice to me or expose their shortcomings.

So where does that leave us, Mr. or Ms. Dog? We can continue along this path of you barking at me each time I walk by, thus annoying your neighbors (and surely your owners as well), but surely we can reach some sort of arrangement.

I promise to not walk on your yard, throw things at you or your house and generally do nothing that would upset you and the people you live with if, in return, you'll just stop barking at me. I just want to enjoy my walk.

Thank you for your time and I look forward to reaching a mutually satisfying conclusion to our issue.

And in the event you don't speak English, I've taken the time to talk to a friend of mine who has dogs and he translated this for you. In dogspeak, it reads: arf, arf, woof, woof, arf, bark, woof.
Sincerely,

Luke