Amerijet

Danny and Kellye had a baby! From the email:

At 3:27 pm on June 12, 2008, Kellye and I welcomed the arrival of our first child, Brenna-Marie Carroll Henley. She weighs 8 lbs 7 ounces and measures 19 inches long, and I'm happy to report that Mom and Brenna-Marie are both happy and healthy. Dad is just plain overjoyed.

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I text a lot. Too much maybe. It’s really kind of labor-intensive for what you get, but I’m actually not that big on talking on the phone, believe it or not.

My phone’s got some feature where you type part of a word and it’ll try to finish it for you.

It doesn’t work so well. If I start to type “America,” for example, it completes the word as “Amerijet.”

What the heck is Amerijet?

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The road to my happy place is paved with the skulls of my enemies.

Okay, not really. I just like the sound of that.

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BB’s current therapy: Decade by Neil Young. I love his acoustic guitar playing, but it’s playing along to his electric stuff (“Like a Hurricane,” “Cinnamon Girl,” “Down By the River”) that forces me to play a bit more lyrically.

I’ve listened to a bunch of my old demos lately, and you know, I had some knack for melody in my playing that I feel is often missing these days. My playing is in such a rut.

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I want to go to Heaven. I know they play baseball there. I’m just not sure how they do it with no umpires.

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A month after graduation I finally feel like I’m able to stop and take a breath. My gosh what a whirlwind of activity and pressure school was. I still stay in motion a lot. I’ve resumed running. I’m stretching out bit by bit, currently taking nice three-mile runs. Soon enough I’ll bump that up.


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Someday I will sleep in.

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If you type “jar” on my texter, it suggests “Jared.”

If you type “Mik,” it suggests “Mikhail.” And that stinks considering how many guys I know named “Mike.”

If you type “Zip,” it suggests “ziping.” Is that even a word?

If you type “nug,” it suggests “nugatory.” Again… is that even a word?

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We used to have this slow elevator at Belo. I’d hit the down button and be in there so long I half expected that when the doors opened there’d be a guy with horns and a pitchfork. “You went too far… wait, except for Brisc…”

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“Sir” becomes “siring.”

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Happy Friday.