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My father passed away exactly eleven years ago to this day. Eleven has always been my lucky number and was also the number in green on the back of my baseball jersey when I played shortstop for Ghent Motors. Today also marks the fifth birthday of our dog Luca who is a brown Labrador Retriever, making her thirty-five years old in human years. The last time I left the hospital where my father lay dying, the sunlight reflected so brightly from the cement sidewalk that it hurt my eyes; I had to turn my despondent head sideways and look the other way. In the meantime, it is slowly but surely getting colder outside as winter approaches with bursts of icy winds. Eleven is also the day of the month and the minutes past the hour on which I was born. The golfing season will return again next year as always meaning that this is a time of smooth patience and spiritual awakening.

Had my father still been living today, he would have been ninety-four years old, believe it or not. Happy birthday dear Dad!

He hasn't been around now for more than ten years, and to think of all those things in life that he has missed out on. I have also missed him very much, as he was a big influence in my life and helped make me the person I am today.

Dad and me (1964).

I was looking through some old pictures of mine and noticed that at my age my father and I looked very much alike. While our personalities might not be a perfect match, we do share many interesting traits and have other idiosyncrasies in common, for better and for worse.

Well, see you around some day Old Champ. We can have a fun round again at the golf course in the sky just like old times. I get to drive the cart this time and you can call me Sweet Swatter as always.

At ten o'clock this morning I was about to take an early morning shower, when the kids barged in front of me saying desperately that they had to take a shower first in order to be ready for work in time.

One after the other it lasted on and on and now it is nearly twelve thirty. After two and a half hours I can finally take my shower.

Sometimes as a father of four kids it's important you have alot of patience.

About a week ago Maarten hooked up again with some girl who was in the same class as he in elementary school. Her name is Robiena and she has blond, curly hair.

Now they are going steady, his first official girlfriend. Two days ago I went into the hobby room and caught them watching television holding hands. Rumor has it that he has even kissed her (on the cheek), but who knows for sure

Now he bought her a nice Valentine's present and went to her house this evening to give her the gift before she leaves for a one week vacation. There Maarten was in the shower for nearly an hour (c'mon you've been in there long enough get out), singing songs and laughing to himself, spraying tons of aftershave and cologne, putting gobs of gel in his hair and combing it just right. Clothes have to look perfect and then off he goes.

I never had a girlfriend at such an early age. Even when I had a crush on someone, I was too shy and preferred to study and read books all of the time.

Vicarious thrills through the daring endeavors of my masterful sons.

Yesterday evening just when Maarten is about to go to his favorite hangout called City-Life I call him over to wish him a fun time and tell him not to come home too late.

Oh by the way, here's some extra cash (5 euros) in case you meet up with a cute girl and want to impress her by buying her a drink.

Maarten is thankful and notes that when I was his age (14) I was a nerd and too shy and never dared to hang around with girls let alone dance with them and buy them drinks.

He remembers most of the things I tell him and is very alert, even if it is slightly painful for me to hear my own words repeated by my ever popular 14 year old pickup artist son.

My father passed away exactly eight years ago today. Eight years may seem like a long time ago, but lately these huge chunks of time can fly by in no time.

So let's see then, since my father was always exactly forty years older than I was, that would have made him ninety-one years old had he survived to this day. Ninety-one, that sounds pretty darn old I'd say.

Although I did not feel that way at the time, in the long run it's probably better that he passed away when he did. Nature had planned it that way.

That torch he had passed over to me way back then is still being held high, and because of this meaningful gift, I am able to carry on to this very day.

Where in the world am I going to put all my computer books?

Now that Lennart has decided to live at home again he has taken over his old room which I had conveniently converted into my working room and library.

Right now there are piles of books spread all over the floor of our sleeping room, which is not the best solution but at least they are readily accessible when I require them as reference.

Looks like my adventurous daughter is having lots of fun in Australia. Traveling so far away while still young is not easy, but as you can tell from the picture below, she's making the best of it. In a couple months she'll be back.

My children and wife keep insisting that our wonderful dog Luca is really really smart and can do all these amazing acts of intelligence. However, I have my serious doubts. She's an okay dog, but she's no super dog that's for sure.

When she is naughty, like when she keeps coming up to sniff my food, lick my plate or pounce at me bashing her sharp paws against my back and side, I raise my voice and say out loud: NO!

I even do the so-called ignore trick where by turning your back to her you are instilling more emotional pain by 'shaming her' that they say that the effect works wonders. I see no difference, as Luca keeps coming back again and again to bug me, until I have to lock her up as punishment. This does not seem too smart to me.

Also when she keeps guard in front of the living room window and sees a bug or spider or other insect on the other side of the glass, she'll keep jumping at it and banging her poor snout against the hard glass surface, again and again without learning. This does not seem too smart to me either.

The other day just for fun my wife bought this big dog puzzle made of sliding wooden panels behind which you can hide tasty treats. The idea is that by sliding these panels back and forth with the paw, the dog learns the gist of the puzzle so that it can instantly snatch up the hidden tasty treats without thinking.

It's been two weeks now, and I am sorry to admit that our dog still hasn't figured it out. Poor Luca gets all frustrated and panics by biting, jumping and sniffing wildly with zero affect.

I think I have proven my point. Mice are a hundred times smarter.

Today our little Luca is one human year old which is equivalent to seven dog years.

Perhaps it might make more sense and be fairer to the dogs out there to celebrate each and every real dog year, as this is surely more meaningful to the dog.

For humans however this is pretty unpractical, and sorry but the master wins.