No, Not The Lodge, The Group

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again–there is no other stretch of years I’d like my life to include than the decades I’ve fortunate enough to experience, especially when it comes to music.

I’m a Boomer. Born in the mid-50s after the war, raised in the turbulent 60s, going off to school and moving into adulthood in the 70s, raising a family in the 80s, 90s and a couple of years in the 2000’s (by the way, what do you call THAT decade?) and getting ready to eventually wind down in the 2020s. The current guestimate on when I’ll “retire” is early 2026 and even then, I plan to define retirement as “doing only the things I like to do.” Most of which, I’m doing now, so it may be hard to tell I’ve retired.

As I look back at all that happened with music during my lifetime, I am truly blessed. It’s a span includes legends like Elvis, Chuck Berry, James Brown, the Fab Four and all the British Invasion bands and really, the evolution of what is Pop Music. During 50 of my 66 years, a group called The Eagles provided some pretty memorable songs. And a couple of Saturdays ago, we got to get together again and revisit those songs and so much more.

Part of the magic of the evening was that we caught the show in Seattle’s brand-new Climate Pledge Arena. Yeah, a bit of a dorky name, but reflective of the facility. This was built as the ultimate in arenas, delivering a completely zero carbon footprint. The ice for the hockey team is made from rain they collect. The electricity is generated from solar. Everything served comes in recyclable containers and is compostable. But with all that, they still gave the building amazing acoustics, such that as we listened to the Eagles play, it was like we were listening to them in our living room. I mean, that clean. Toss in an orchestra AND a choir and I get goosebumps just thinking about that night.

Don Henley mentioned in his early banter that their first album came out 50 years ago. Do the math and I was a sophomore at Torrance High School with a crush on the girl across the street. KHJ was LA’s “Boss Radio” station and when I finally got my driver’s license and could borrow the folks’ car, I’d roll down the windows and crank up the radio, listening to “Take It Easy” or “Witchy Woman”, which were on that first album.

I’ve had favorite groups come and go over the years. The Beatles were the first, followed by the likes of Three Dog Night (I had the poster on the wall and, in fact, took it with me to the UW), the Moody Blues, Electric Light Orchestra and so many more. I enjoyed the Eagles, but it’s as I get older that I realize I should be including them on that list. They were a band that played a kind of country-rock sound that was fun and cool, but in my younger years, not among my favorites.

However, when they performed that Hotel California album wall-to-wall and then played over two hours of “greatest hits”, my God, what an amazing team. Yes, Glenn Frey is no longer with us, but his son Deacon and Vince Gill covered for him nicely. When they added Joe Walsh in the mid 1970s, the band ascended to amazing new heights.

Before the intermission, Don Henley said they would be right back to play “everything we know” and he wasn’t kidding. They returned with all their hits PLUS Joe Walsh doing some of his classics PLUS some Don Henley solo pieces AND letting Vince Gill show that he was not just a country music bumpkin. He and Joe Walsh broke out into a guitar duel on one song and if you closed your eyes, you couldn’t tell who was playing.

Earlier this year, when I heard their tour was passing through Seattle, the day tickets went on sale I just had to buy a pair. Being a radio weasel, I could have waited and hoped for free tickets to get in (that’s been known to happen) but I was going in with the idea that this is probably the last time I’m going to see them all together like this. And I did not want to miss it.

And it was an amazing treat.

If, in the future, they do make it back up this way again, or if they launch a Vegas residency, I can’t emphasize enough how important it is to experience that band. I left the Climate Pledge Arena proud of the place this city has built, and thankful that I was able to see the group that pretty much has provided the soundtrack to most of my life.

And as they continue to be where I am, as I continue doing that morning show on KRKO, we play more than our fair share of Eagles songs.

Each one generating their own unique memory for me.

Musically speaking, dang, I’ve had a lucky life.

Take it easy.

Tim Hunter

The Trip Continues

This past week, I lost two people in my life. I tell you this, not for sympathy, but to share the strange connection they shared and to give you a peek into their lives.


The first was my cousin Diane. She was the newest member of the family, even though she had just turned 70.

Let me explain.

In early 2019, I signed up for I don’t remember if it was a killer deal that I couldn’t resist or what inspired me, but I thought it would be fun for at least a year.

Not far from where I live, there was a woman whose son, I believe, bought her a one-year subscription to Ancestry as well. The son knew of his mom’s life situation and thought it might cast a little light on any possible relatives out there, somewhere. And it did–me.

Diane lost her parents over a decade ago. First her dad, then her mom. When her mom went to her heavenly reward, she left behind a note revealing that she had, in fact, been adopted. Mind blown. Having known several adoptees over the years, I know that some think, “Well, that she my BIRTH mother, but my mom and dad will always be my real mom and dad.”

And then there are those who are curious and just need to find out, “Who is out there?”

Diane had already exhausted the obvious attempts at having the birth records reveal who her parents were, so off she went to (and to my dying day, I will always be grateful she did). When Diane signed on, I showed up as a relatively (pardon the pun) close connection, like at the cousin level. How could that be?

By comparing notes, having members of the family do some thinking, tossing out some theories and ruling out the dumb ones, we came to the conclusion–she really was my COUSIN!

How can that be? Well, it turns out her mom was my dad’s sister. At the time my aunt was in a place where she could not keep the baby, so she gave Diane up for adoption. We think there was some back-door dealing when it came to how the adoption happened, as Diane was born in Long Beach, California….but ended up being adopted by a family not far from my aunt’s house and was raised in the same city where my aunt lived. One of the theories tossed out there was that my grandfather was in the same gambling circles as Diane’s adoptive parents. But we’ll never know.

And to top it off–she was living just across the Puget Sound area in Washington state, over near Bremerton.

Bottom line–Diane was thrilled at our connection! We were able to round up pictures of her mom from my old photo albums and tell her all about the life of the mom she never knew. When my mom and sister, Debbie, flew up from California that summer, we gathered and chatted and all of us could definitely see the Hunter family resemblance.

As we occasionally checked in with each other over the past two years, she never stopped expressing her gratitude for connecting with her and it brought her such happiness. It just helped fill in so many blanks.

Unfortunately, the clock was ticking and our time together would be limited. She had been battling cancer. Diane actually beat it once, but as I’m sure you’ve heard, it’s a mean son of a bitch and this time around, it eventually became too much. Our time together was just shy of three years which points to the classic life lesson, you just never know how much time we have.

In recent weeks, I knew life was fading for Diane, but when we heard the news, I was still surprised. Yet, relieved. She was in a lot of pain and life, I’m sure, it became less and less of a life to look forward to waking up to. God blessed her with an amazing partner, her high school sweetheart, Russ, who helped her every way he could until the end. To get to know both of these kind, caring people AND to be able to know we were related is one of the things I will always treasure.

One of the last projects she tackled in her final days was finding a home for her beloved horse, Beau. 


My friend, Paul, has been in my life since I married my wife, Victoria. Paul, and his partner, Rod, all lived together with my brother-in-law, Kris. Paul was known for many things–his incredible Christmas tree collection that would go on display in their home every year.  Oh, I have to show pictures.


Paul also an amazing gambler. He could go to a casino (Angel of the Winds among his favorites) and bring home winnings in the tens of thousands! When health allowed, he had a meticulous backyard and could identify almost any of the beautiful plants growing back there. He loved to cook and create new masterpieces in the kitchen.

And he also was quite well known around the Seattle area for his alter-ego, Asia Cache.



Yeah, there was another side of Paul that his close friends knew about. To be honest, it was a world I had not previously been familiar with, but was so fun to hear about whenever those stories surfaced.

Sadly, Paul, like my cousin Diane, was also relentlessly pursued by cancer. Towards the end, there were good moments, surrounded by lots of bad days and so, with doctors’ approval, he chose to leave the building on his 66th birthday. 
I’ll forever be able to hear his laugh.


I was only recently made aware of the connection of these two souls. While in Long Beach, Washington, earlier this year to scatter the ashes of a cousin who passed last year, I had an extended opportunity to reconnect with another cousin, Bonnie. Bonnie was adopted by my Aunt Jan and for my entire life, I’ve always known here as “Cousin Bonnie.”

The woman that adopted her, my Aunt Jan, was the woman who gave up that baby, my cousin Diane, 70 years ago.

It turns out that back in Paul’s drag “Hey Day” as Asia Cache, he, his partner Rod and their friends would make the long drive to Puyallup to party at a bar called Trax that was owned by my cousin Bonnie and her partner.

Talk about a small friggin’ world.

A world that is now minus two of the more amazing people whose paths I’ve crossed during my lifetime and so, I just thought I would share.

It really is a long, strange trip.

Tim Hunter


My Amazing Day

Every now and then, a day comes along that’s so special, you can’t wait to tell people about it. This is in no way an attempt to brag, but a way to inform about the wonderful adventures I had this past Sunday and definitely, something is in it for you.

For starters, a good friend of mine was given tickets to see the Russell Wilson-less Seattle Seahawks play at Lumen Field against an even worse team, the Jacksonville Jaguars.  OK, we might have a shot.

But this day was so much more than about a football game.

Both of us were excited to try out the new Seattle commuter train, that seems more like the shuttle they have installed at SeaTac. Automated announcements, telling you which side to exit and which stop is coming up next. It was amazing.

Now, I admit, I was a bit irritated by what I initially saw. Oh, you go over to what used to be the Northgate Mall and there were signs up in quite a few areas, where they charge $20 to park. I was thinking, “Wait—I have to pay to park AND pay to get down there?” This is breaking down quickly.

But while there ARE pay parking lots, there are still plenty of free spots and garages for you to choose from. OK, we’re over that hurdle. Now, what’s it going to cost to ride this train?

With two seniors trying to figure it out, we had to ask for the local King County cop for help, which he gladly provided. We had the right idea, we were just doing the steps in the wrong order. Got an Orca pass? You can use that to pay or plastic money. I had an Orca card I had loaded $20 on a couple of years ago, but just never got around to using. So, our transportation was paid for. What’s it cost for a senior citizen to take the train down to the International District for a short walk to Lumen Field?  $2, round trip.

How long did the trip take? (and you’ll notice, I haven’t even gotten to the game yet) 15 minutes, from leaving the Northgate platform, to getting out in the International District.  Return trip, same amount of time, although when you’re heading back, the trains are pretty packed. Something I can endure for 15 minutes.

It was the feeling of a big win as we walked to the stadium, passing lots that were charging $50 to park. And then you get to wait in all that traffic to get home.  Seriously, from the time our train started moving to the time I pulled in my driveway was less than 25 minutes.

Now, it’s time to talk about all the bonuses:

THE DAY—this was a picturesque, classic northwest fall day with the trees screaming with color, the sun-drenched blue skies, the crisp fall air and no rain.

THE GAME–No Russell Wilson, but even though there were a few missed opportunities along the way, the Seahawks pounded the Jaguars.  When the Jags actually scored with not very much time left, we decided that if snuck out now, we’d beat some of the train rush. Of course, while we were in the restroom, we heard on the radio broadcast that the Seahawks ran an onside kick back for a touchdown. I’ll swear ’til my dying day, I saw it.

THE TRAIN–We knew this was the way to go. The eastern U.S. and Europe have known this as long as there have been tracks. If you want to read the frustrating Seattle history of how we avoided doing this a half-decade ago, read this. If you didn’t know about it, it’ll blow your mind. (they said that a lot back in the 1960s)

THE COACH–Seahawks Coach Mike Holmgren was inducted into the “Ring of Fire” and is now the 14th member of that special group of people. In his speech, he referred to the TWO championships we should have. I’m sure he was referring to the year he was cheated out of a championship by the Pittsburgh Steelers and the referees that were on their payroll.


HALLOWEEN–The icing on the cake: there were fun costumes and goofy people around during the game. It was a fun atmosphere and on top of that, the first home win of the season. It was numbing.

This Friday, I’m going to attempt talking my wife into taking the train down to the Eagles concert, getting off at Westlake and hopping on board the Monorail to the Seattle Center. Bet you didn’t know that all of your public transportation to any event at Climate Pledge Arena covers the cost of your public transportation ticket? We’ll see how that works.

It might be a future blog.

But nothing is going to tarnish the memories I have of last Sunday, my amazing day.

Tim Hunter

OK, I’ve Been Thinking…..

We have a serious homeless problem, not just in Seattle, but across the country.

The current mindset of our current city and county leadership is that if you’re not all in favor of pouring an endless supply of money at the problem, regardless of results, you’re a heartless bastard.

Hey–that’s Mr. Heartless Bastard to you!

I see parks overrun with tents, playgrounds no longer safe for kids to play off because of discarded needles, people with absolutely no hope of getting out of their current situation on their own. And some, now experiencing the only situation they can remember, prefer to stay put.

Here are a few pics I snapped at Ballard’s Commons Park a few days ago. To think, around 5 years ago, I hosted a pet show there.


I know I’ve blogged about this topic before, never even thinking that it wouldn’t have been resolved over a decade later. But for the millions of tax dollars poured into non-working solutions, to see homelessness spreading like a disease and worsening everywhere it goes, I need answers to the questions that just won’t go away.

Before going on, a quick recap of my personal, simplified philosophy on the topic.

There are three types of homeless people:

1) The Drug or Alcohol Users

2) The Mentally Challenged


3) Those legitimately down on their luck and who have nowhere else to go, except to places where the first two groups hang out.

Anyone with a milligram of compassion would like to see each of these groups get help, get off the streets, and return to a level of normal life. But what has been wrongly described as “compassion” has been to allow these people to continue their current existence, living in parks, on sidewalks, in dilapidated RV’s parked along the road.

How is that helping them?

The first two categories need serious help, which we don’t force them to do because that would imposing our values on them and violating their rights. 

I missed the memo where setting up a tent alongside a freeway, throwing your garbage and human waste outside for someone else to deal with is a right.
Within my lifetime, they had laws against such things like loitering, trespassing, vagrancy, littering and so many more that are no longer enforced. Oh, the laws are still on the books, but none are enforced because to be homeless moves you into a protected class.

Among the reasons being given for all these people on the streets and in our parks: it’s because Seattle doesn’t have any affordable housing. Local government’s answer? GIVE them a place to live and everything will be fine. They’ll be off the street and we’ll all live happily ever after.

Who are you trying to kid?

The prevailing thought is that you give the people in the beltways and parks a tool shed of their own to call home, they’re suddenly going to turn into neat freaks and proud home owners. Do you really believe that? Or will these tiny homes filled with the mentally ill and serious drug and alcohol users become nothing more than government-funded slums?

So, you’re saying that, “Yeah, they live that way now, but if we give them a place to stay, they’ll become model citizens.”  Did you never have a messy roommate?

See the source image

When 2021 is in the history books, the city of Seattle will have spent $160-million on homelessness. Just in one year.


Encampments, conditions at Seattle parks draw scrutiny as pandemic drags on

You tell me–with all the money that’s been spent, is the problem getting better or worse?

Seattle mayoral candidates discuss growing homeless encampment at Green Lake  | KOMO

So, you’re serious with this plan: We’re not going to demand that the drug and alcohol abusers get help, or that the mentally challenged get assistance, but we will give them a mini-house or a room in a former motel and then, things will suddenly get better? Really? 

Spending tax dollars so that Seattle’s political elite can feel better amongst themselves or have something to talk about at their next fund-raiser doesn’t work for me. 

I think we should stop ALL spending on homelessness, and slowly resume it–first, funding those programs that have legitimately shown results, and then expand on those.

Is that just too much common sense?

And also, let’s seperate the down-on-their luck folks away from the drug & alcohol dependent and the mentally challenged.  When you’re in the water and drowning, you don’t reach out to take as many people as possible with you. Let’s seriously help those asking for help.  Those are the people I want to fund towards a better life.

Helping people who don’t want our help just doesn’t make sense.  We’re ignoring the root problem and assuming it will just disappear by giving them a government-funded place to live.

Let’s say, instead of drugs or mental issues, it was a domestic violence situation. Would moving that dysfunctional family to a new residence fix the problem? I seriously doubt it.

Here’s a nicely written article for those who need more data. 

It’s an extremely complicated situation, I get it. But the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. That is exactly what we are doing. 

And one more question that I have while I’m wallowing around in this topic. I keep hearing the phrase, “Affordable housing.”  As you know, we live in a free-market economy, capitalism and all that. Prices are all a result of supply and demand. Just because I am currently in Seattle doesn’t mean I have a God-given right to be here, regardless of cost. Play that game, and I could say, “I have a God-given right to live in Beverly Hills. Where’s my free place?”

I don’t have that right. Back in the day, when people looked at their economic situation, they made a choice as adults that maybe they need to relocate to something they can afford. Eastern Washington. A house in one of the suburbs. Sure, there’s no Lake Washington view, but you could afford to live there, pay bills and have a life. When did that become not OK?

Right now, there are some readers who made it this far that are thinking, “I had no idea Tim was such a heartless bastard.”

I’m not. I just want to aim all of our efforts towards fixing the situation, not enabling it and allowing it to continue. Forever.

I know, I know, the problem has to do with what I titled this piece.

“I was thinking….”

Tim Hunter





OK, This Time I Agree

Maybe this is why we’re only meant to live so long. From the day you’re born to the time you start dreaming of retirement, the world changes a lot. The longer we stick around, the more we are told the things we know are wrong and that we should feel bad for it.

Oh, you know what I’m talking about.

I want to focus on one of those items in that collection of corrected thought, brought to my attention last week when the Rolling Stones announced they had dropped the song, “Brown Sugar’ from the playlist of their current “No Filter” tour. I have to say, that is one of my all-time favorite Rolling Stones songs and to see it performed live two years ago at what was known as Qwest Field, it was part of an amazing night of rock ‘n roll that I’ll never forget.

But I guess now, I’m suppose to forget about it.

So, what’s the deal about “Brown Sugar?” Here’s the story, for those who want all the details. The first I heard about it, I thought to myself, “Oh, for God’s sake! What’s so bad about that song?” I found the lyrics online and I didn’t even make it past the first paragraph before I completely understood. In fact, I wondered how it had survived this long.

Here’s the first verse of “Brown Sugar”:

Gold Coast slave ship bound for cotton fields
Sold in the market down in New Orleans
Skydog slaver knows he’s doin’ all right
Hear him whip the women just around midnight.

I mean, outside of slave ships, cotton fields, being sold into slavery, a slavemaster and whipping women, what’s not to love?

I had no idea, as I reflected in this break from my morning show on KRKO.

For those of you who didn’t listen to that break, yeah, back when the song came out in 1969, I was a freshmen in high school and mom was about to make her weekly trip to Foods, our go-to grocery store for the big spend. Back in those days, they sold 45’s in the grocery store for, I think, 79-cents (I remember them being as low as 49-cents each). So, I asked mom if she would pick up the Rolling Stones’ song, “Brown Sugar” and she said she would.

I was so excited for her to return home so I could put it on my record player. But as she handed it to me, she said, “You know, I almost didn’t buy this for you, because of the song on the other side.”

It turns out they had chosen the song “Bitch” to put on the flip side.

Most of the people I have talked with about this “controversy” admit, once they’ve heard the lyrics, that yeah, it should probably go away. Everyone I chatted with had no idea that’s what Mick was singing about. I sure didn’t.

But the melody is so great, here’s hoping the Stones take some time and rewrite the lyrics to make it something that doesn’t offend anyone. In fact, I’m going to offer them a rewrite for the first verse absolutely free. However, if you want me to tackle the rest of the song, boys, it’s gonna cost you:

Gold Bond treatment for hurting feet
It’s on sale over at Walgreens
William Shatner knows he’s doin’ all right
‘Till he has to go and get up around midnight.

Let me know if I’ve got the gig, Mick.

Tim Hunter

A Remarkable Life

When you stop and think about it, each of our lives have been blessed with so many amazing people. But for the grace of God, our paths might never have crossed. I suppose, then, I’d not realize just how much I had missed out on.

Such is my situation with a guy named John Sandvig. Over the past decade, I took a crash course on all the things this guy had done in his lifetime and all the time, while we were in each other’s backyard. He was a radio guy, and so was I, in the Seattle market, 25+ years ago.

But while I was playing Christopher Cross, Celine Dion and other soft rock artists over at KLSY, John ended being the Sales Manager over at KISW during its rock hey day. While I posed for pictures with Darius Rucker, Kenny Loggins and Sarah MacLauchlan, John got to hang out with bands like the Who, Led Zeppelin and so many more.

I know we would have had a hoot together had our paths crossed back in those days, but it was not meant to be.

At one of the Soundie Awards, John got to hang with one of my all-time idols, Stan Freberg

Somewhere around 2010, I attended a Police concert at the Key Arena at the Seattle Center. It was a great show and as the last song wrapped up, my wife looked at the guy I had been sitting next to all night long and she said, “I think I know him.” The wheels spun furiously until the pieces came together and she leaned over and said to him, “You’re John Sandvig, right?”

I swapped places with her and they began to talk about old times. Technically speaking, John was Victoria’s mom’s cousin. But because they were much closer in age, they always kind of thought of each other as cousins. Over the course of time, she had lost touch with John, but this was a much-appreciated reunion.

That’s what I’m trying to explain. I’ve only known this guy for a little over 10 years, but in that time, I learned so much about him.

Prior to meeting him, I had heard Victoria reference his parents, Jerome and Clair, who were like Ballard Norwegian music royalty. They sang all over town, threw fabulous parties and Ballard was their stomping ground. I know on more than one occasion, we’ve gone and placed flowers on their graves at the cemetery not far from us.

John grew up in Ballard and attended Ballard High school. For a stretch, John dated a nice girl named Bunny. However, when high school ended, they went their seperate ways.

I learned that while at Pacific Lutheran College in Tacoma back in the day, he was in a band called The Deacons. They had a regional hit with a song called, “You can’t get there from here,” with John singing the lead vocals. Remember, he came from a musical family. They performed together from 1964-1968 at all kinds of Northwest venues, including a one-year stretch where they did over 300 shows.

In 2014, the Deacons reunited for one more performance at PLU for homecoming. 50 years later, the band was back together. In fact, John’s wife Bunny actually sewed all their band costumes for them. Yes, Bunny, from those high school days. After attending a Ballard High class reunion, there were now both single and they fell back madly in love. For the last 10+ of John’s life, he got to spend his final decade on earth with his high school sweetheart.

I loved how the sign said, “In Person.”

Wow, that PLU concert was 7 years ago. This blog helped me remember that night.

A couple of years ago, John was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. At first, it was a slow decline, but it just kept getting worse. The last two to three years of John’s life were spent in a thickening fog. We got to see him a couple of times, and, at first, he was so excited to see us. In later visits, it took time for him to slowly remember who we were, when that smile of his would return. But sadly, after visiting with him, 30 minutes later he wouldn’t have remembered we were even there.

Damn you, Alzheimer’s.

He took his last breath this year on July 11th. That happened to be John and Bunny’s 12th wedding anniversary.

This past Saturday, family and friends gathered to look at old pictures of all those years gone by, and share stories. It wasn’t surprising that there was a flood of fun and laughter as we reflected on the life of this man who came into the world only 76 years ago.

He was a man of faith, a caring husband, father, grandfather and friend and even though I only scratched the surface of knowing him, I had a chance to witness his world and the people around him. There’s no denying, John Sandvig was one remarkable man.

George visiting John near the final stretch

Former Seattle Supersonics stadium voice, George Toles, recorded a video eulogy that was played on Saturday. He had lots of stories about John and their radio sales days together, with a few jokes tossed in. My favorite: “John is now up in heaven, where there are no tears, there are no wars, and there are no Houston Astros.”

It was completely my pleasure to know you, John Sandvig. Rest well. I promise you’ll be among the first people I look up.

Tim Hunter


Attack of the Time Vampires

Let me begin by saying, “I’m a busy person.”

If you know me, I’m a multi-tasking fool. I like it. I appreciate it. I’ve known people who have done something similar to what I decided to do seven years ago—get out of the 9-5 routine and put together a collection of jobs, of things I LIKE to do, and make a living that way–but that just weren’t as lucky getting enough jobs to keep them busy. Yes, it was a risk. But at some point, you cross a threshold where you believe in your abilities enough that it just all works out.

I am a flat out achievement addict. I have a collection of year-round projects that I like to take on, despite my already busy schedule, because I like being busy.

There’s my annual April Fools Day video project, “National Gullible Day.” I am organizing another Christmas CD, as I call it, a collection of songs, memories and comedy that has been a passion project of mine for 21 years now. I write and produce a Christmas parody song every year with local singer, Alana Baxter. Again, not for financial gain, but because that’s what I enjoy doing!

A typical day for me begins at 4:45am. I listen to the radio news while on my rowing machine, play a round of “Jeopardy” on my Alexa, and then it’s off to writing for Radio-Online. Once that’s completed, I have a hand-written list of projects by my side, to cross off, one-by-one, as I do them. While I’m working on that list and crossing things off up above, I’m usually adding things down below.

That list could include my daily radio show, this blog (I have to remind myself), do a podcast, produce a podcast, do social media posts for my clients, write up a newsletter or design an email blast, produce a new video ad for one of the clients, and so on and so on.

Each day, I dive into a pile of tasks and frankly, I impress myself with what all I end up accomplishing by the end of the day.

That is, unless I experience the much-dreaded, “Time Vampire.”

Time Vampires are real. They’re out there lurking. On a day you have exactly enough time to do 14 projects, they’ll contact you and make it 19. And while either talking to you, or going back and forth with emails, they cost you time for one or two of the projects you had hoped to get done.

They don’t suck blood. They suck time. That’s why I call them, “Time Vampires.”

For the most part, they mean no harm. It could be they don’t even realize that they’re harming my daily work efforts. The one that really drives me nuts is when they tell you about a project that, with planning you can work in sometime over the next couple of days, but then they drop in that key phase, “by tomorrow.”

And of course, you’ve developed an “Oh, I’ve got this” mentality so that no matter what gets hurled your way, you make it happen. Maybe not your absolute best work, but you get it done.

Now, before you start referring doctors who might help me with this phenomena, let me assure you that Time Vampires are real.

While the blood-sucking variety has such fear-mongering names like Dracula and Nosferatu, Time Vampires are known by softer, less threatening names like Inconsiderico, Imposeonya, and the worst of them all, Screwyooallup. Let’s compare them:

So, just know that they’re out there and they will show up when you least expect them. 

And when you find yourself running late or just not achieving at the level you like to be, you have someone to blame: the Time Vampires. It’s what I do.

You have been warned.

Tim Hunter

Celebrating A Week Of Accomplishments

Every now and then, I’ll take on a new challenge and while I may not be the poster child for how to do the task, I figure what I didn’t know, I know now. That keeps the wrinkles coming in the gray matter and I’m just that much more equipped to deal with projects and situations in the future.

But this past week was like a New Skill Boot Camp. I emerged with so many new insights and nuggets of knowledge that I thought I’d share a few of them.


It’s a half-bath where the shower curtain rod is mostly used for hanging clothes to dry. We had the tub refinished once before, but it didn’t take long for the white to start peeling off. It looked like hell. So, I turned to Yelp and found The Seattle Bathtub Guy. Guess what he does? The reviews were great, his work amazing, and if we ever need that kind of work done again, he’s my go-to guy.

In order for him to access the tub, I was told I needed to remove the toilet. My wife and I discussed it and decided while we were removing it, we might as well replace it with a nicer-looking, more efficient one, which we purchased. Once the tub was refinished and it was safe to go in there, I put my YouTube knowledge to work, found a couple of videos of how to install one, and went to work.

Step one is setting the new bowl down on the wax seal perfectly, so it seals up as you tighten down the screws. Just like in the video. But when I connected the bowl, it leaked. I tightened the bolts more, it still leaked. The answer eventually became obvious that you REALLY need to tighten those bolts, which I did and the leaking stopped. I had heard too many scare stories about over-tightening bolts on a toilet, it cracks and you get to buy a new one. I’m thinking that applies more to the floor bolts, than the bowl.


So, the biggest lesson I learned was that I should have been wearing gloves. Some of you may be yelling at your computer or phone screens now, thinking, “Ew! How could he do all that without wearing gloves?” To me, it was get in, get it gone, get out and then wash your hands really well. I think that theory would have played out, if I hadn’t splashed some sewer water that went up by my mouth and into my eye. That opened the door for a bacteria to get into my system which allowed Montezuma to enjoy his revenge without using up any frequent flyer miles. Looking at the positive side, I increased my vocabulary and now know what “Campylobacteriosis” is.

Heavy duty gloves have been ordered on Amazon.


My step-daughter asked I could change a headlight for her, on her 2005 Honda CR-V and my immediate response was, “Of course I can!” Then, off to YouTube I ran again, to see what I was getting myself into. See, if you’re old school like me, you’d think you have to remove the big headlight, put a new one in, and then adjust it so it’s at the right level. Oh, what a different world in which we live.

So, in this case, you go under the hood, unplug the light, remove a rubber gasket, and then try to find the clip that needs to be sprung so you get the bad bulb out and replace it. Un-doing the clip was by far the hardest part, but once I got that, I was in and out in less than 7 minutes.


We try to be good. Using minimal amounts of toilet paper, flushing more than usual, etc. We live in an older home, so it’s probably to be expected, but we’ll get the occasional backed-up sewer line. 

It seems to happen about every couple of three years. Sometimes, I grab my 75-foot pipe snake and can knock it loose. But the last time, it couldn’t reach the problem. I went to Lowe’s, looking for a 100-foot long snake, but they didn’t have any. Then I saw this thing called “a bladder.”  Again, I’m sure there are advanced homeowners out there right now saying, “Well, yeah, duh, Tim.” But in my 30+ years of owning homes, this device had never crossed my radar. 

Let’s say you have a blocked sewer line. You attach this bladder to the end of your garden hose, bring it in through a window and then start feeding the garden hose into your sewer line until you can’t go any further or you’ve run out of hose.  Here’s the key. First, you turn on the water slowly, so that the bag of the bladder fills with water. While doing that, it expands and creates a seal in the pipe. Then, you crank the water pressure up to max and whatever was blocking your main sewer line is blasted out and you have cleared out your drainage problem.

While our minds are in the gutter, with our summer being as dry as it was, the roots of those thirsty trees in your yard may have found a way into your sewer line and you won’t find that out until the first heavy rains of the season. 


This has absolutely nothing to do with fixing up anything. My son, his wife and the grandkid came over on Saturday for my birthday dinner (one of several this month) and he brought along ribs. Not just any ribs–barbecued ribs from Peg Leg Porker.  While on a business trip back in Tennessee, Tyson had been told about this place for great ribs. He was so impressed, that he eventually brought his wife back there. And, for my birthday, he had them flown out for our celebration. OMG. Now, I’m a big fan of Carolina Smoke up in Bothell, and until I am asked to judge a Rib Off between the two, I’ve gotta say that Peg Leg Porker was in the realm of “to die for” ribs.

As I mentioned on my little radio show on KRKO each morning, I’m big on knowing things. I feel you just can’t know enough and so, when I learn something new, I’m glad to share. Hopefully, there’s a nugget or two in there that makes you just a little bit more smarter.

Or, if you already knew all these things, I’ll at least feel a little less dumb.

Tim Hunter


It Just Doesn’t Have To Be That Way

I don’t know about you, but I quickly became consumed with this whole Gabby Petito situation.

It’s not like heinous crimes haven’t become a daily part of our lives. All it takes is opening yourself up to the flood of information aimed at us daily, and you’ll quickly get your fill.

From the beginning of the Gabby story, I sensed something incredibly wrong. As the days rolled on, more and more revelations indicated this just wasn’t going to turn out well.

It started September 11th, when Gabby’s family reported her missing. They hadn’t heard from their young, 22-year-old daughter for several weeks. She had been on a road trip adventure with her fiancé` and even though they traveled to the middle of nowhere, it was unusual for her not to check in for that long.

Back home, her best friend hadn’t heard from Gabby on her birthday. That wasn’t like her. Then, it was revealed that the guy she was traveling with had returned to his parents’ home, with HER van and had been home five days before the rest of the world found out that Gabby was not with him. First, his parents wouldn’t allow police to talk with him. (wait, he’s an adult, right?) Then, they said he had actually left their home several days before and that they “didn’t know where he was.” I hope over time that, if their son is convicted as Gabby’s killer, that the parents are charged with something to do with harboring and aiding a fugitive.

I started writing this on Monday. Tuesday afternoon, we got the word that the medical people had identified that body found near Grand Teton National Park matching her description was actually Gabby.

Over time, I’m sure we’ll find out the complete story, learn every sordid detail, and set up our DVR’s to record the story when it arrives on 48 hours. It’s what we do.

But the reason I’m diving into this topic this week is because it didn’t have to be that way.

As you probably saw on the police body cam footage when they were called out because of a reported domestic dispute, Gabby was shaken. She was not happy, she was crying and told police matter-of-factly that she and her boyfriend had a fight. Police didn’t have enough evidence to take any steps, neither wanted to press charges, which we now realize probably could have saved her life. With insufficient evidence of a crime, there was nothing they could do and had no choice but to let them go.

I look at pictures of that cute, bubbly 22-year-old with her whole life ahead of her and having all of her future adventures robbed from her and it just makes me sad. Watch her videos and see how full of life she was. See the news reports with her parents pleading for information about the whereabouts of their daughter and feel their pain.

Again, it just didn’t have to be this way.

From the second we’re born, the clock is ticking. We’re free to choose whatever path we want, we’ll make mistakes and if they’re bad ones, we’re the ones that pay the price. It’s how the world works.

I just wish somewhere along the line that someone would have said to Gabby, “Are you sure about this? Is he hurting you? Are you sure you want to connect your life to this guy?” It always amazes me that someone so out-going, seemingly so happy, could have a level of insecurities that kept her there and in harm’s way.

Apparently, to his credit, one of the park rangers actually did that very thing, but by that time, she was beyond reach.

Monday, I celebrated my 66th birthday. While I hope for many more years to come in the future, I’ve already enjoyed a lot of friggin’ years and a lifetime of experiences. Most were good, but there are some bad ones in there. That’s true for everyone. As long as we stick around, there will be more major decisions to make–potential turning points in your life. Looking back I feel really good about 95% of my life-changing decisions, with only a couple of minor exceptions.

They say that when you’re down to your last few breaths, it’s not the things you did during your life that flash before you, it’s the things you didn’t do. If your life isn’t quite what you had in mind, please, make a change. Switch directions. Have confidence in your abilities.

Career-wise, I’ve had three major shifts in my lifetime. Two were not my idea, the third was all me, rolling the dice and believing it would all work out. And it did. That’s what is going to fuel me into my feeble years. Between now and then, I’m going to continue doing exactly what I want to be doing. Absolutely, I’ve been blessed, but it’s the good things I’m focusing on, not the things that go south.

If, right now, your life isn’t going the way you had planned, remember: it just doesn’t have to be this way. Especially, in relationships, physical violence at any level is not normal, is not acceptable and undeserved. Period. And you have family, friends and even complete strangers that will support you in making a change.

I only wish someone would have passed along that speech to Ms. Petito earlier. God’s peace to her family.

Tim Hunter

PS ABC Meteorologist Ginger Zee wrote this article after the Gabby story reminded her of her own situation in her earlier years. Worth a read.


OK, one more collection of thoughts from my 3-state adventure last weekend, that took me from the Land of Lincoln, through Indiana, over to Michigan and back.

I was entertained by the signs we saw during our 10 hours in the car.

However, I couldn’t resist starting our trip with a few questions about the obvious. When we were in Chicago, that big lake where the city is located–why isn’t it Lake Illinois? Nope. Chicago is on Lake Michigan. I asked if there was a Lake Chicago in Michigan. Kristi told me, “No. But there’s a Michigan City in Indiana!” Of course there was.

I feel like they’re just doing this to tick me off.

So, with that in mind, I thought I’d offer a collection of the signs that caught my eyes during our condensed weekend in the middle of the country.

Yes, Eminem’s street.
I don’t mean to be critical, but that’s not how you spell romance.
Yes, Battle Creek, where Kellogg’s is headquartered.

Of course, when we arrived to the scene of the crime, they had to make sure we knew their slogan: “Pure Michigan.”

I’m thinking a Husky snuck on board this bus to change this sign.

If only he could have gotten to the team.

And a sign I was SO glad to see. I didn’t even know that Bob’s Big Boy Restaurants were even still around.

Hello, Big Boy!

Well, maybe not exactly THAT building. This could be where they make that other Pfizer product you’re familiar with.

Anyway, just wanted to share. Plus, it helps me remember if I write it down.

Tim Hunter