Maxed Out

I don’t know about you but I’ve had one of those on-again, off-again love affairs with the seven deadly sins ever since I learned they not only existed but had been codified.

Before I actually wade into this week’s column, whatever it might be about, I just wanted to pass on a personal note to Dave Brownlie and Doug Forseth, people I’m proud to collectively call "Boss".

For a town plunged into pitch darkness, San Vito was a happening place. Perched on the northwest corner of Sicily, San Vito is picture postcard perfect.

One hundred million is a big number.

There was a brief moment in my freshman year at college where I gave serious consideration to dropping out, joining the Navy, seeing the world and either losing myself or finding myself at sea.

By G.D. Maxwell If you spend any time around boats larger than, say, a canoe, one thing becomes painfully clear: Murphy was a sailor.

I met Gideon Sillem a week ago when we pulled into Cascais, Portugal late Thursday night after an, alternately, placid and harrowing passage through the Bay of Biscay.

Everybody, out of the Poole. In lands where the climate is benign enough for outdoor swimming pools, lifeguards, when they’re not harassing kids about running or cannonballing off the high dive, keep a close watch on weather.

"You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together… and blow." Lauren Bacall had something else on her mind when she purred those words to Humphrey Bogart in To Have and Have Not , but her basic idea was sound.

It would be less than truthful to say wastewater is the furthest thing from my mind right now. It would be completely truthful, however, to say Whistler’s wastewater battle is the furthest thing from my mind right now.