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Have I told you about how I grew up on a farm?

(Some of you just read that and probably thought: O boy. Here we go.)

Most of my times were enjoyable on the farm.

A lot of heavy lifting. Baling hay. Etc.

But, the item that stands out most solidly was something that started as a love of mine and became (ever-so-gradually) a fear, then full-blown hatred about farm life.

It was…my horse.

That’s right.

Backstory: I had had the best pony you could imagine. He was part-human, I swear. Like a big, loyal puppy dog. He followed me everywhere. Going on trail rides with my family was a treat. (I even asked if he could come in the house once or twice.)

Then, 2 things happened:

1.) I grew about 1-foot one summer, gained 50 pounds

2.) My mom said I needed a ‘horse’

So, the hunt started and stopped at an auction in central Kentucky.  We found a palomino! (I’d always wanted one of those.)

I wish I could say the story got better.

Ryker’s Brand Gold dust (her official name) became Gold dust and then Babydoll, because me and my brother thought it sounded better.

She was deathly thin when we bought her. Her next stop probably would’ve been the glue factory had we not stepped in.

She gained weight. We fed her non-stop. Then, I started training her. She gained a little life from the food and training. You could see it in her eyes. I was excited to try this new ride, even though I missed my always faithful pony, Arrow.

Babydoll was beautiful. (Just like the color of gold dust when she was let out into our fields to graze, to take in sunshine, and to mingle with the herd.)

Then, I asked the question, “Since she’s trained, could we take her on the next trail ride?”

We did.

She jumped into the horse trailer, no problem. She unloaded no problem. She rode the trail (at first) no problem.

Then, some proverbial dam bust somewhere in her head.

The happy, content, fat, gold-coated Babydoll went haywire. She refused to cross small watering holes. Started biting other horses. And at one point, she turned and ran through dense trees and brush piles. But, it was obvious she wasn’t just going crazy…she was MEAN. Babydoll tried her hardest to knock me off with branches, tree trunks, and debris. (It was the largest beating I’ve ever sustained on a horse to this day.)

Fast forward to the evening, and I was devastated. We let her graze with the rest, and we left it at that. The next day, my brother and I were going out to fill the water troughs, and Babydoll perked up her ears. Neither Jared nor I thought much of it, because most of the herd loved to check out the water tanks.

But, she did a bit more. She lowered her head and lunged at us. Jared was faster and scaled a fence and looked back. He saw me getting rammed by the rock-like head of the horse. Luckily it knocked me sideways in my run, and I didn’t take the brunt of her force. I recovered and sprinted to another gate and hopped over just as she smacked that gate with her head.

She had become a demon (almost overnight).

Then, we talked about it as a family. We thought she’d come out of it. But, deep down I felt otherwise.

Over the next 2 years, we watched her give birth to foals. Then, we watched her kick at them non-stop and refuse to let them nurse. Luckily, we had other mares to let Babydoll’s offspring choose from.

The trail rides became worse and worse. She kept trying to do the “fling off” method. Rather than enjoy the trips, I just spent most of my weekends whipping her and trying not to die.

2 things happened:

1.) I became great at dodging disasters/death every Sunday

2.) Babydoll took on a constant Hulk-like persona among the other horses.

My family agreed that my sole job was to keep Babydoll from killing the others in the herd. Talk about great riding motivation. But, I did.

Babydoll was hateful, and I missed Arrow, the pony. It was night and day between the two animals’ personalities. Maybe it’s what caused me to steer away from farm life. Either way, I know that Babydoll is somewhere today wreaking havoc upon some other poor soul.

Arrow at 20-something years of age is still offering rides and helping to train the future riders of America! (You should visit him at a stable in Monticello, KY.)

To you Arrow, I say, “Thank you for the many miles, compadre!”

To Babydoll, “No one liked you when you were angry.” (Hulk reference)


Throwback Thursday!


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Location, Location, Location (in Film).


Want to know something?

I don’t enjoy superhero movies like I used to.

This may come as a surprise since I watched the newest Avengers movie (Age of Ultron) just yesterday. I’m a walking contradiction, but, I find the Marvel universe largely watered down and the CGI effects a major cop-out.

In the last few years, I’ve watched almost (almost) every movie with a Captain America, Iron Man, X-Men, Hulk, Thor, Spider Man, etc. reference thrown in since 2000, and I find that only about 5% of them have been solid from start-to-finish. (See: Iron Man 1, if you watch just one.)

For me, the “green screen” effects take over and replace anything remotely similar to a real set design. (I no longer ask “Where was this film, well, filmed?” because it’s irrelevant.) Age of Ultron, was very well directed by Joss Whedon, hear me out, but you could tell there wasn’t a real danger to any one character, anywhere, within the plot that felt life-like. (The relationship that blossoms between Natasha and Banner might be the highlight of the film, and that’s saying something for a series based chiefly on large-scale battles.)

In his article featured recently in Grantland, the author, Mark Harris, delves into the styling debate of CGI versus stunt performers and “real” set designs, industry trends, and absence of concrete visuals in Hollywood today.

Where did the set go? The real landscape? What Harris calls “Artisanal Macho.” Middle Earth aka New Zealand?

Was it the cost that sent the option away?

Location, Location, Location!

I can say I appreciate a well-designed “place” over a screen any day, but the storyline must still be THERE.

Most of the beauty in Mad Max was the design. Even though, I felt the relationship between Max and Furiosa start to blossom at times.

What do you look for in a film?

Aesthetically pleasing landscapes and real relationships between characters – are they both necessary? I would argue yes. For a movie to truly be great.

I believe that both are possible. But how to do both, when the industry only seems to promote blockbusters with one or the other? There were billions of dollars to be earned on Michael Bay’s 4th installment of Transformers (something about robot dinosaurs). But what about movies with loftier goals? Should they only aspire to be arthouse films? Sundance honorable mentions?

Today’s moviegoer seeks entertainment above all else, it seems. They might pick Pitch Perfect 2 over Mad Max in its opening week. (Maybe Pitch Perfect 2 had amazing cinematography and character development both, but I doubt it.)

I imagine it’s so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so difficult to master both domains in film. Why? Because few directors have done it. The Godfather Part II. Lord of the Rings – The Fellowship of the Ring. Star Wars – The Empire Strikes Back. Indiana Jones – Raiders of the Lost Ark. I loved the attention to detail in each of these examples!

Storyline and world-building were top-notch.

The story has to be there. It has to be memorable. For it to be remembered. Otherwise it will be remembered like this:

  • “Hey. What’s the name of that Micheal Bay Tranformers movie?” … Which one? …. “You know. The one with the robot dinosaurs where everything blows up and Marky Mark saves the day?” … I don’t remember that one. … “Neither do I. But it was the 4th one, I think.”

Only when a director and crew go 2-for-2 with story and set can a movie rise above the mediocrity that comes at us each and every summer.

Want more?

Here’s a cool story about the legacy of a real Hollywood crash site used for the movie The Fugitive, and how the physical location is still a tourist destination today. You won’t find any green screen destination on a map.


What about you?

Have you watched any movie lately and thought it gets it right on both levels? Just an amazingly good story and a visual treat to watch?

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Tell them that you love them.

“Love. Amour. Liebe. Amore. Amor. Ljubezen.”


There are so many ways to say it. (The last one was Slovenian. You’re welcome, honey.)


Why tell them?


  • Maybe because they let you do the ‘Cluck Hunt’ one Halloween, while dressed as Johnny Appleseed:

(If this link doesn’t work, add Dani Pinto Pyles on Facebook. The video is a good one. You’ll want to see it. Maybe for your next party?)

Game rules: “Two teams – 2 Roosters, 13 Hens, and hidden candy corn. The hens can only CLUCK to get the roosters attention when they find a candy corn. Only the rooster can put it in the hen’s cup. Collect the most candy corn for your team to win.”


  • Maybe because this friend didn’t desert you when you danced like this:



  • Or looked like this:

shoe on head

  • Or this:



  • Maybe because they swam in lake water with you that was so murky you couldn’t see the water moccasins. Just feel them.


  • Maybe they rescued you from yourself more than once.


Whatever they do/have done for you. They’ve gained the label ‘friend’ for no uncertain reason in your life.


Celebrate that today. Tell them, “Thanks for not letting me die that one time!” Or, whatever you feel led to thank them for.


God put them there in that space for a reason.


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Ever Felt Heaven?



Ever Felt Heaven?

Weird question to ask, I know. In the context of being on Earth and all.

Maybe I should ask, Have you ever felt heaven on Earth?

A moment that seemed frozen in time. A glimpse of an after-life?

These are usually just blips when they’ve happened for me. God reveals them in the slightest ways. Simple nuances. Usually found in nature. Not at a computer screen.

A smell that takes you to a time, place. Seeing a friend you haven’t laid eyes on in decades. Going to your favorite spot for lunch.

Heaven on Earth.

For me, it happened not too far from where the last odd tale occurred (see yesterday’s blog, Best Road Trip Ever). Only, instead of Orange Beach, AL, this was due east along the Gulf Coast in Pensacola, FL. We were there for Spring Break, and I was a sophomore at the University of Kentucky.

No. This wasn’t that kind of Spring Break. Haha.

It was a mission trip compliments of Hurricane Ivan’s destruction (and aftermath), Spring 2005. I’d only ever known mission work to be about recovery in terms of re-building an area struck by disaster. This one, we were informed, was going to be demolition.


Never has a word been so sweet on my lips before or since.

Our mission: Demolish an Air Force base in a week’s time.

Sledgehammers to break toilet basins: check.

Leather gloves to rip gutters from houses: check.

It was a beautiful task!

The operation had been called: Rebuild Northwest Florida.

So, there was reconstruction taking place. But, something that often gets overlooked is that things have to be demolished sometimes in order to be rebuilt.

We were that crew.

The heaven on Earth moment happened, as we tore these abandoned Air Force homes apart. Each day the temperature climbed “higher and higher” (cue up 80s tune). Those working to remove shingles, nails, roofing supplies were getting cooked.

Guess who landed up there?

You know it. But, that’s the only way to demolish a house. From the outside in. You can’t get to the frame and the interior without first removing the exterior. So, we did. Me and several buddies. Man, that alone almost had the heaven on Earth quality. The temperature. The sweat. The work. Seeing friends get overzealous and accidentally falling through the exposed rafters to the ground below.


(For the record: I only met gravity’s temperament once.)

But, the heaven on Earth moment happened, as we paused one day in our labors. We heard a noise…We looked up…There were angels above us.

Blue Angels. Flying overhead. Putting on an aerial display. They were located in Pensacola.

We made a point to pause. Drink some water. Look at the majesty of their aerodynamics. All while holding onto the rafters so as not to fall through again.

I remember looking over at a buddy of mine, Josh Field, and saying “It don’t get much better than this!”

He shielded his eyes as the Angels flew up, up even higher. We watched them spiral and turn and maneuver like Angels (for lack of a better comparison). It was a moment of recognizing that in the midst of storms, wrecks, and things being demolished to be re-built, God was there.

The world seemed to stop spinning, and we watched the planes spin instead, and all from those busted rooftops on the coast. I imagine heaven to be that sort of thing non-stop. Except God’s orchestrating EVERYTHING, and there isn’t any risk of hurricane or death.

It’s all like that one moment but even better! Somehow.

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Best Road Trip Ever!


Think of your favorite road trip.

Do you have yours?

What’s the best *spontaneous* trip you’ve ever taken?

Not a vacation. Not a pre-set engagement. Just a “get-in-the-car-and-go” moment.

Mine happened in the Spring 2007. March. (I remember, because it was 2 months before I got engaged to my beautiful wife.)


My buddy, JT says: “We should go somewhere.”

My pal, Danielle confirms, “Somewhere with a beach.”

This was the extent of our plan.

1._ We should go somewhere. & 2._ We should find a beach.


So, we embarked South on I-65. No beach criteria other than it’s warmer than Kentucky, in March, and there were some good times ahead.

Pedal down.


JT’s Mercury Sable shook intermittently, as we drove sometimes above and sometimes below the speed limit.

We made the coast in record time.

What coast? Gulf.

What beach? We’d thought Gulf Shores, but discovered Orange Beach was, in fact, this one.

We were ecstatic to hit water!

The skies were dreary, but our moods wouldn’t be controlled by some foul weather.


We RAN to the water. Our plan looked to be a success. We figured 3-4 days at non-Gulf Shores would be just the trick for our poor, post-Winter, pre-Spring blues.

The skies…did I mention they were dark? Well, they were.

The water was FRIGID!

I remember Danielle had a really awesome camera. She thought JT & I were crazy for risking our necks in barely above freezing water.

Not only was the water almost frozen, but the coastline was empty. It was JUST us. The 3 amigos. (Adam and Lindsey had been too cool to join us in no-man’s land, this time.)

The coast looked like the set from the Cormac McCarthy novel-to-movie adaptation of “The Road.” There was nothing but rough waves, and we yelled to try to hear one another.

JT did something I’d never seen him do. He swam farther out…(Jo Carol, if you’re reading this, please know that I would’ve done my best to save him, had he drowned.)

Yes. JT, the doctor, swam farther out to sea in 40 degree-Farenheit water. I did the only thing a best friend should do: I followed. Plus, I had an ego the size of Texas and had been growing a Jesus beard and couldn’t be out-done. So, out we went.

Danielle snapped pictures and watched from an ever-increasing distance. Our ill-planned trip was all right, if you didn’t count the hypothermia, and “water-so-cold-it-burned” component. But…

The waves pulled us out farther. JT didn’t seem to mind. I noticed the swift current and started to resist. (Again, my Texan complex should not go unnoticed.) Well, the waves were winning, and I couldn’t just LET them. So, I resisted.

JT seemed to wait for the waves to crest at just the right moments and eventually, he decided to “tuck-tail-and-surf” back into the mainland. I tried to follow, but the rip current caught me and pulled me out farther. The timing was off. I was only about 3 feet behind JT, but it resulted in a constant drag outward to sea. I fought mother nature, and she won. I was so tired, I started to think I wasn’t going to make it back. I began to think “Great. I don’t think I even told Mom where I was going,” and started to panic at the turbulence.

When I looked up and saw JT almost back to Danielle on the beach, I decided I couldn’t let THIS be the end (ego rejoined). This was life or death. Orange Beach couldn’t be the end.

I swam as hard as I could with each swell, and even kicked through the rip currents, until finally I was pushed onto shore with a burst that drove me into sand. JT and Dani looked down and hadn’t noticed how much I’d worked to not die. They hadn’t been able to see my panic. (Truth be told: it’s the closest…2nd closest…I’ve ever come to dying.)

But, we survived our first rendezvous with Spring Break.


Fast forward to dinner that evening. (We’d placed our bags in some hotel that had availability. Actually they all had availability. Apparently, Gulf Shores, Panama City, and Pensacola were the Spring Break hot spots. Not Orange Beach. So lodging had been no problem.) At dinner, we found a nice seafood restaurant and JT ordered gumbo.

I remember the gumbo, because Danielle and I had commented on New Orleans and made small talk with the waitress. She’d gone on to tell us that Orange Beach wasn’t usually too popular during this time of the year. We added bits and pieces to the conversation about where we were from (small-town USA, Kentucky). She admitted that Kentucky was a place she’d always wanted to visit. The rain kept falling HARD against the metal roof of this establishment.

Her comment about this not being a touristy destination didn’t register right away with us.

Danielle had said, “With this being so close to Gulf Shores, AL, I figured there’d be more people over here.”

The girl had re-filled our waters and nodded. “You’d think that, but I meant because of the storms, and the weather.”

“It’s March.” JT added, “You’d think it’s kinda understood that bad weather happens.”

The girl nodded again. “Of course. It rains a ton. Thunderstorms when there’s not hurricanes. But, I didn’t mean just the weather. I meant what the weather brings with it…” she trailed off.

We just stared at her. Waited for her to continue.

“The sharks,” she said matter-of-factly.

None of us spoke. JT finally piped up, “Sharks? C’mon.”

“Seriously. The bull sharks. They come up close during these thunderstorms and feed close to the shoreline.”

Danielle looked at me. “But, they’re not that dangerous are they?”

The waitress went on, “Only the most. They’ve attacked a few people just a few weeks back. That’s why they’ve asked people to stay away from the water. Until…it clears up anyways.”

JT swalled a big gulp of now colder gumbo.

“You’d have to be insane to be out there in the water. If the waves didn’t get you, the sharks would.”

“That’s why the beach was empty,” I said out loud. “That makes sense,” I tried to laugh, now in a cold sweat.

“You all weren’t in it were you?” she asked.

JT shook his head yes and told her we had.

She called us N-U-T-S and told us we were lucky to be alive.


The remainder of that impromptu road trip was spent watching it rain, singing random songs the 3 of us knew, and playing frisbee against some tropical winds.

Safe to say, none of us swam the rest of that trip. We were alone on a beach without any traffic, any commitments, and plenty of bull sharks watching us.

JT looked for the fins poking out of the water. I worked on my Jesus beard. Danielle (camera amateur-turned-pro) took phenomenal pictures of the storms raging power.

It was a road trip unlike any I’ve ever had. Do I miss Orange Beach? Not at all. But, would I delete that memory and the dangerous elements of that trip? Not in a million years.

It was a season I’ll not soon forget. Thank you for the adventurous camaraderie guys!

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