RicAdeMus - Waiting for Wisdom

Starving Monkey

2012-01-26T10:20:00.000-08:00

I'm in the doghouse. Last night I decided to have a graham cracker. When I grabbed the box from the cabinet, I noticed a familiar problem. The top flaps were both ripped nearly off and the wrapper inside was ripped open all the way down. In my house, that happens to almost every box or bag that contains food. Cereal, cheese, crackers, chips (including chocolate), whatever, you name it.

Upon seeing the condition of the packaging, I mentioned to my wife (as I laughed) that she and the kids open food packages like they're starving monkeys and I would be happy to help by opening things for them. She laughed, but then realized I included her (and was offended).

The left side of my brain is telling me to make this a running joke with her and the right side is telling me to never mention it again. Left or right, which way to go??? =)

PS - To be fair, they shred the packaging of non-food items as well. It's as if everything is a Christmas package and they can't wait to rip it open.

A Near Disaster

2012-01-22T20:01:00.000-08:00

(Typing is still a little painful, so I'm sharing a story I wrote long ago and decided not to post. In other words, a reject. My apologies, I'll try to do better next time.)

A few years ago, we had an odd experience while visiting my wife’s sister in Pennsylvania. My in-laws were there for an extended visit. The sister had asked my wife to send the parents $1,000—but to make the check out to her (and of course she wouldn’t let my wife talk with her parents to confirm the need). We decided to visit them.

When we arrived, we entered through their garage and I could see a reflection of their fireplace in one of the prints hanging in their hallway. It was fall and a great day for a fire. Before long my wife went off to the other end of the house to play with one of the nieces—the other niece was at a friend’s house—and I stayed in the kitchen making small talk with the adults. Our hostess settled in at her kitchen table with her back to the garage door and her hubby was in and out. I wasn’t sure what he was doing.

As we talked, I noticed a reflection of fire again in the print on the wall. But the fireplace was behind me. I was facing the garage. How could I see a reflection of the fireplace? I quickly realized there had to be a fire in the garage! As I thought that (but before I said it), my brother-in-law looked at me and asked, “What? Is it a fire?” We started running towards the garage, but he turned left and went out the back door. A 3rd sister’s BF and I went into the garage and found a fire burning in the middle of what appeared to be a homemade fort.

The brother-in-law had put fireplace ashes in a paper bag, in a cardboard box, in a wooden box (all open on the top). There was a 5 gallon gas can right next to it on one side and a can of paint thinner on the other. All of that was surrounded by 4 bicycles, an old coffee table, golf clubs and assorted junk. I cleared a path and we got to the potential explosives before the fire did. Then we cleared everything else away from the fire and it burned harmlessly. A few minutes later the brother-in-law came running in with a shovel in his hands—he said he thought we might need it. Good thing we didn’t.

My wife thinks the brother-in-law was actually trying to knock off his wife in a “tragic” explosion. The 3rd sister thinks the engineer-turned-salesman is simply a moron. I lean towards him being an idiot, but I’m not sure. I wonder how he knew I was going to say there was a fire. I wonder why he put hot ashes in the garage (in paper and cardboard) when he normally put them in a metal container in the back yard. I wonder why junk (and explosive material) was completely surrounding the ashes/fire. I wonder why it took him so long to get the shovel.

What do you think? Was it stupidity or a poorly planned attempt to knock off his wife? Within two months he left her to go live with his girl friend (whose much older, wealthy husband had just had a major stroke and was completely dependent on her—she stuck him in a home, divorced him, and took half his fortune).

PS – My father-in-law said he didn’t need any money.

Ancient Prophesy Comes True

2012-01-18T13:00:00.000-08:00

After the blood-letting, the medicine man read the signs and then turned to young Ricademus with an ominous prediction for his future--crystals will grow and you will know great pain.

Some of you may remember the story of the near-deadly kiss I received when I was 14. The resulting illness and blood work revealed I had extremely high uric acid levels. It was not due to diet, it was just my genes. The doctor explained that uric acid causes gout and I would likely have attacks unless I was extremely careful.

I was a kid and didn't give it much thought. Well, that's not completely true. When a future girl friend's mother tried to nag me into eating things I didn't like (liver, nasty gravies, etc.), I would smile and say I wished I could, but it would give me gout. It was fun to watch her reaction. She didn't know what to say--who ever heard a 15 year-old kid talk about getting gout???

Too few years later I limped around with what I (and my doctor) thought was a sprained ankle. I thought I hurt it playing soccer. Eventually we figured it out it was gout. I'd gotten a little dehydrated, which elevated my uric acid levels and allowed gout crystals (little shards of glass) to form in the ankle--which was weird, because gout normally targets the big toe. I resolved to drink lots of water (rather than take a pill every day for the rest of my life) to keep that from happening again.

It worked well.

Then in August I had a kidney stone. In October I hurt my knee. At the start of January my elbow started to hurt (a LOT). After another misdiagnosis, I remembered uric acid and asked my doctor if it could have caused each of those problems. It did. Drinking a lot of water is no longer enough. I have to start taking a prescription every day to keep my uric acid level in check. I have no problem taking pills, but I don't like that this is forever. I hope I remember.

If you take a daily pill, do you have a routine that helps you remember? Do you keep the bottle next to your tooth brush? In the kitchen? With your secret stash of chocolate???

If you are supposed to take something daily, I hope you remember it every day so you receive the full benefit. Take care of yourselves!!!

Clipped Wing

2012-01-10T09:06:00.000-08:00

I'm having trouble posting and commenting the past few days (4??) thanks to a very painful elbow. I don't know how it happened--unless my keyboard at work isn't at the proper height, which is a pretty lame way to get hurt. It's not that bad. It doesn't hurt at all when I'm asleep, so it's only a problem 70% of the time.

I am reading posts. But typing is no fun, so my posts and comments will be few for a while.

Don't get used to it! ;P

Blog Love (Songs)

2012-01-03T10:26:00.000-08:00

I recently discovered a few songs about blogging. As a thank you to the wonderful people I’ve met through my blog, I’d like a share a few of them today.

Most of them are rewrites of existing songs, motivated by the hope of cashing in on the phenomenon. And some are a little whiny—like the one from the Backstreet Boys, “As Long As you Comment”. We all enjoy getting comments, but I’d be too embarrassed to ASK for them. You have to have a little blog pride. I’m sure you know this one, so I’ll only share a few lines:

I don't care who you are,
Where you're from,
What you did,
As long as you comment.

See what I mean? It sounds a little needy. You may have missed the blog song from Barry White, who jumped on the band wagon just before he passed away in 2003. Here are the lyrics from, “Can’t Get Enough of Your Blog, Yeah.”

I've heard people say that
Too much of anything is not good for you, bloggers.
But I don't know about that.
As many times as we've posted,
And we've read posts and shared posts.
It doesn't seem to me like it's enough.
It's not enough, bloggers. It's just not enough.
etc., etc., etc. (edited--it was too long)

Rest in peace Mr. White and thank you for expressing what so many of us feel about blogging.

Ahahahaha! Okay, so there are no such songs. But the blogging community IS pretty great.

Welcome to 2012! I’m not sure what to expect this year. One Pisces horoscope said, “No longer can you deny how truly empathic and sensitive you are.” And another read, “Control your temper since it is the only thing which can cause you trouble.” I’m not thrilled about either. We’ll see what happens. =)

Boxing Day

2011-12-28T14:10:00.000-08:00

Boxing Day Rules:

1st RULE: You do not talk about Boxing Day sales before you get the item.

2nd RULE: You DO NOT talk about Boxing Day sales before you get the item.

3rd RULE: If someone says "stop" or goes limp, the fight is over and the item is yours.

4th RULE: Only two shoppers to a fight.

5th RULE: One fight at a time.

6th RULE: No sharp nails, no stilettos.

7th RULE: Fights will go on as long as they have to.

8th RULE: If this is your first Boxing Day sale, you HAVE to fight.

I should have shared the Rules earlier. I've heard that Boxing Day (and Black Friday) sales can be pretty rough. If you participated, I hope you won.

PS - I have had ideas for posts, but when I try writing them out they seem even worse than the above. Sorry, I got nothing!!! Oh, and you probably noticed the Boxing Day rules are oddly similar to the Fight Club rules. ;P

The Gift of the Magi

2011-12-22T22:19:00.000-08:00

I like the story. The wife loves her hubby so much, she sells her beautiful hair to get a chain for his treasured watch (which belonged to his grandpa). He loves her so much, he sells his watch to get special combs for her hair. Very sweet.

But the wife's hair will grow back, the hubby isn't getting that watch back. He does have the chain, a symbol of his wife's love...but somehow it never seemed like an even exchange. I'm actually kind of a romantic and I wouldn't mind being in that hubby's shoes, but from the outside looking in, it never seemed right.

Do you know of any real-life examples that mirror the story? I have a vague memory of my parents saying something similar happened to an aunt and uncle. but I don't remember it clearly.

Angels or a Nightmare???

2011-12-15T12:14:00.000-08:00

This post is about an experience I had, but I'm not sure I had. Hopefully it will make sense.

I've mentioned I have a 20 inch neck. It's great for holding up my head. It also came with a free gift--sleep apnea. That causes people to stop breathing for short periods while they sleep. But so what? I was fine (and too dumb to look up the consequences). I started waking up a lot during the night and then waking up with headaches in the morning. Not every morning, but often. And then more often. And then mornings became a real struggle. I was tired all the time. But I work long hours, so of course I was tired. I didn't connect being tired to the apnea.

There was one positive. One day a very vain woman in my office stopped by to ask a question. My mind was alert, but I could feel my eyes closing. It was hysterical. Why? Because of the look on the woman's face. Thanks to her vanity, she was horribly offended that I could drift off while talking to HER. As I said, my mind was alert, so I was able to enjoy the moment.

That convinced me to see a doctor. I spent one night in the hospital for a "sleep study"--I was hooked up to monitors that measured how often I stopped breathing and also tracked my blood oxygen levels. At 5:00am the technician monitoring my activity woke me up. She couldn't take it anymore--she said I scared her more than any other patient in her 25 year career. On average, I stopped breathing 113 times an hour. At one point, my blood oxygen level went down to 59% (that's why I got headaches--carbon dioxide in my blood instead of oxygen). My poor brain!!!

I was put on the fast track to get a machine to keep me breathing at night, until I decided whether to have a minor throat procedure. Two weeks later I still didn't have the machine. And then it happened.

I went to bed, fell asleep, and later I felt hands pulling me away. I could see my room, then my house. I kept rising higher up (backing away) and the view was just what you would expect, until eventually I could see Earth, looking down through clouds. But I didn't feel peaceful. I felt panicked. Imagine you see your puppy run out in front of a car. You can save it, but people are holding you back. You can't get free, but you have to. That's how I felt. Finally I shouted, "No, I can't go! My family needs me!". The hands let me go.

And then I woke up. I was awake, but I couldn't move. My heart was pounding so hard and fast I couldn't tell one beat from another and I was gasping for air. I must have stopped breathing for quite a while. I don't know how long it took for me to catch my breath and for my heart rate to drop back to normal--it felt like an hour, but it was at probably only ten minutes. Needless to say I was exhausted.

So what do you think happened that night? Was I on my way to the next life? Or just having a nightmare?

PS - I had the throat procedure. One experience like that was one too many.

Close Calls; Stalking; Normal???

2011-12-11T14:23:00.000-08:00

Former reader Elaine teased me last year about some of my posts ("you always seem to have these near-death experiences!"). It was cute. But it made me wonder if maybe I get carried away and exaggerate. I have a fact checker on the payroll, but she may be biased. Have I had many near-death experiences? More than a "normal" person? Let's see:

--When a co-worker burned Freon gas, creating Phosgene gas (a World War I weapon). Yes!

--When a store manager mixed bleach and amonia in a confined space? No, but she passed out before we opened the windows. Don't ever mix those two.

--Getting robbed at gunpoint (with the tip of the gun barrel pressed against my cheek)? Yes! It happened the night before the 1st day of my high school senior year.

--Going on SWAT manuevers with my dad (protecting my gandma's store)? I'm going to say no, but...

--Being stalked from my school bus stop by a fellow my dad and I kicked off my grandma's property the night before. Hmmm, no. It was scary, but he was probably harmless. Probably.

--Encounters with electricity? Yes! (future post)

--Getting dizzy while standing in a tree to saw off its top? Hmmm, no. If my dad had slower reflexes and I'd actually thrown up ON him, then maybe. =)

--Run-ins with a black bloc wannabe and gang wannabees? No.

--The Halloween encounter witht he gun and the girl? Yes (to both).

--My car spinning counter-clockwise while going 50 MPH straight down the highway. Maybe, but it was FUN.

--Hitching rides on coal trains? Again, maybe, but fun.

--Being stalked and pulled over by fake cops? No, I was the one with the baseball bat.

--Getting stalked in a hardware store (my most popular post ever)? No.

--Getting stalked @ midnight on my walk home from work? No. (Future post)

--Being stalked into a subway station's small car parking lot by a crazy trucker? Yes, he was as big as a mountain. I could have easily driven away--and should have

Geez, what's with all the stalking??? Is THAT normal? Have you been stalked? It's not just me, right???

PS - There was also the night I asked the angels not to take me--I hope they were angels!!! That will be the subject of my next post.

Awkward Moment

2011-12-04T11:56:00.000-08:00

For my current boss, not me. She looked embarrassed.

I've mentioned often that I've been working like a dog for months now (even more so than usual). My organization needed me and I stepped up. It's what I do. Being responsible is an old habit. I do it for me, but it usually leads to good things. This time it will not. I'm acting in place of my old boss who resigned in September (so I'm reporting to her boss now). The plan was to make the "acting" permanent. I received a temporary promotion and the official recruitment was going to be a formality. Our HR department confirmed I qualified for the job and my name was on the list of candiates to be considered. Then it all fell apart.

The Smithsonian has multiple sources of funding. Until recently I was paid from private funds. I changed jobs in May (a promotion) and became a "federal" employee (paid from from US government funds). It turns out that since I have not been in my current job for one year, I cannot be promoted again (even though I qualify for the job). If I had stayed a private employee, there would have been no problem. But once you become a fed, the rules are different. Our HR department screwed up--I'm not even eligible for the temporary promotion. So that was cancelled (I'm still doing the work). There's also an issue with "veteran's preference", but that's too complicated to get into.

Anyway, management could wait until May and promote me into the position then. But they've decided it would make them look bad. The awkward part?

As the acting head of our finance department, I attend a teleconference with our people in Panama every other Friday at 2:00pm. My boss thought she was going to use the room at 2:30, but of course I had it booked. She looked at me through the glass wall, wanting to ask me to move the meeting. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

Why did she need the room? To interview a candidate for "my job"--but I was in her way. LOL! The universe DOES have a sense of humor.

Guest Post - Bandit

2011-11-27T17:01:00.000-08:00

Thursday was one of the worst days of my life. My humans called it “Thanksgiving”. But to me it was more like, “Let’s annoy Bandit”! Don’t get me wrong, I love my humans—and they REALLY need me. I’ve been trying for years to train them to play fetch. Just when I think they have the hang of it, suddenly they forget everything. I put the ball right at their feet, but they don’t know what to do with it. I give them hints by pushing at it with my paw, but it doesn’t help. Plus, I have to single-handedly scare away that maniac (blue uniform, carries letters and boxes) who passes through the neighborhood every day. And they’re not the best communicators. I understand them, but when I talk they just smile at me. Sometimes I ask if they heard me, but they just smile more. Don’t get me started on how difficult it is to walk them!!!

But about Thursday, the alpha female and I got up early to start working in the kitchen. I watched carefully to make sure she didn’t drop anything. After helping her for hours, my family suddenly boxed up the food and left the house with it. What? All that work and we didn’t even eat??? Plus, I’m abandoned on a family holiday? As if that wasn’t enough, the humans left the remains of a cooked fowl sitting on the counter, out of my reach. I could smell it, but not eat it. It was maddening.

When they came home, they reeked of strange dogs. To add insult to injury, I think they gave my food to those other dogs!!!

You can see why it was such a bad day for me. **sigh** The life of dog! Well, I better sign off. I have a grooming appointment today and I think I’ll get my nails done too. Maybe get a new toy, eat, take a nap. Yes, it’s going to be a busy, busy day!

Woof-woof!
Bandit

Thanks for Giving

2011-11-23T15:28:00.000-08:00

It's encouraging to see the number of truly caring, giving people there are in the world. I could easily be talking about my blog friends, but in this case I'm not. =)

Like most children, my daughter started kindergarten at age 5. That same year, my son also started attending public school. He was only 3. I'll skip the details and just say he was diagnosed as "speech delayed" by an unjustifiably smug school psychologist ("Your son is too young to know the alphabet. He knows the song, but he doesn't know the letters." Over the next 30 minutes he made her eat those words. :P).

The local school district wasn't very good in general, but they did have an excellent TAG program and a great special education program. That worked out well for my kids. The closest special education center was nearby, but served most of the school district--it brought kids in from all over. My son received wonderful attention there and I received an education. My experiences at the school were a combination of very rewarding and heart-breaking.

My family was relatively poor, but we had a huge extended family that recycled clothes and shared home-grown fruits and vegetables--and we had places to hunt and fish. Thanks to all of that, I didn't know we were poor. At my son's school, I met kids who knew they were poor and who lived in areas over-run with drugs and violence. Kids who only ate at school and got most of their clothes through the school. Kids who spent the night in cars because it was safer than sleeping in their parents' crack houses. And then there were the kids who were disabled for reasons I'm not going to share. Too upsetting. I know much of the world looks down on the US for still having a death penalty, but...

Anyway, the staff at the school was amazing, teaching and helping the students every day. They gave them much more than just an education. The teachers, the office staff, the lunch lady, etc., etc., went above and beyond. As the weather turned cold, coats magically appeared. They regularly brought food in to send home with the kids--especially on Fridays. While most workers look forward to three day weekends and a break at Christmas, you could see the worry on the school employee's faces. What's going to happen to "Tommy" or "Jane" when school is closed?

As important, they also gave the kids something many of them never had before: healthy, positive attention from stable, caring, people. I'm not saying the kids' families don't love them, but many are so messed up themselves they have only negative influences to give their children. That's worse than the poverty--to me.

So, this Thanksgiving I want to say thank you to all the teachers, occupational therapists, speech therapists, secretaries, janitors, lunch ladies and yes, even the school psychologists (most of them anyway) who help disadvantaged and disabled children learn and grow. They're inspiring, special people who help inspiring, special people.

PS - And I also want to offer kudos to my blog friends--I've witnessed your generous spirits and, well, it gives me a little more hope for humanity. =)

"Imagine all the people, sharing all the world."

Thanksgiving Tradition

2011-11-20T18:03:00.000-08:00

Our Thanksgiving (TG) menu has become a tradition and is essentially the same every year: salad, roast turkey, sausage and rice stuffing, mashed potatoes (w/garlic OR sour cream), steamed green beans, yams w/marshmallows, cranberry sauce (or a cranberry creation), rolls, and homemade butternut squash pie…with a different appetizer (or two) each year.

The menu came from my side of the family. It became my-inlaws family tradition when my wife and I were 19 (we weren't married yet). Just before TG my mother-in-law had surgery that left her incapacitated. My GF and her 3 sisters panicked at the thought of cooking TG dinner. I told them not to worry; I could do it, no problem. They doubted me, but I showed confidence. We agreed they would buy the turkey and I would take care of everything else.

In truth, my show of confidence was just that—a show. The only cooking I had ever done was flipping burgers at Hardee’s (and beating tomato soup out of a can). But I'd watched my mom and grandma in the kitchen. Plus, I couldn’t count the number of times I had changed the water when one of them was soaking a turkey. How much harder could it be to cook one? Haha!

Speaking of soaking a turkey, I decided to spend the night at their house so I could do that and then get an early start cooking TG morning. After dinner I went to the fridge to get the turkey. It wasn’t there. I asked my wife where it was. “Oh, it’s downstairs in the freezer.” *cringe* I thought they knew the bird had to thaw before it could be cooked…they didn’t. That was my fault, I should have asked about it several days earlier. No problem! I stayed up all night changing the water every 30 minutes and the bird was ready to cook by 8:00 the next morning. But what was that stuff hidden in the neck cavity??? LOL!

I’ll spare you the details on all of the other prep work and skip to the results. The turkey was a little dry. The mashed potatoes were a little lumpy. The marshmallows on top of the yams were a little scorched (really, just a little). I used Minute Rice for the sausage stuffing (it was good anyway). The green beans were canned. But the brown ‘n serve rolls and the canned cranberry sauce were great…and the pie was perfect—my mom made it. =)

As you can see, I didn't make a great meal for them. But the quality didn't matter. Somehow it was one of their favorites and the menu became their new family tradition. I guess because they were feeling especially thankful that year—that my mother-in-law survived her surgery.

So why am I sharing this? Well, just to show that there’s no need to stress if you're faced with cooking your first meal or maybe the first for a new sweetie or his/her family. The real joy in sharing a meal is not about the food, it’s about the time spent together. If your family-friends don’t appreciate you cooking for them, then invite me over. I ALWAYS appreciate it when someone else is willing to cook!!! Call early if you’re more than a 2 hour drive from DC. LOL!

Happy Thanksgiving—whether you celebrate or not (or have celebrated it already in Canada)!

If you don't mind sharing, what are you thankful for today? Just the first thing that pops into your mind. As always, I know I’m thankful for the great people I’ve met through blogging. If you're reading this, that includes YOU! =)

Moving Forward (VERY Short)

2011-11-17T06:55:00.000-08:00

Today I am filled with anguish and regret—I lost my cell phone!

Why wasn’t I more careful? Why didn’t I take better care of her? How many times did she suffer with a dead battery because I was too wrapped up in myself to even give her a charge?

She was very faithful, always ready to help when I needed it. I’m sorry I didn’t do better by her.

PS – Dear Phone, I know we’ll never see each other again, but I want to give you a heads-up that I’ll be transferring my number and minutes to a newer, sleeker model. Good journey!!!

Trusted Authority Figure

2011-11-15T12:06:00.000-08:00

Note: At first my wife did not want me to share this story. She thought it made her look "dumb"--but being naive @ 15 is pretty normal.

In my youth, I trusted only a small circle of friends. I was wary of others and kept an eye on people, always aware of who was around. Sizing them up. I was respectful, but trust was a different story. My wife often tells me that I've gotten more trusting over the years (too trusting, to use her exact words). But I go with my gut reaction when I meet people face-to-face (something about micro-expressions and your subconscious). I have been accurate reading men. As for women...well, on with the story. ;P

When I started dating my wife (@ 15) I was still in my suspicious phase, but also fairly mature for my age. She says I was 15 going on 40. One day she informed me she was going to visit her former (9th grade) science teacher after school (we were in 10th). The junior high he taught at was only a quarter mile from the high school, so she planned to walk.

Being who I was (and am, in this case), I didn't like the idea of her walking there alone and roaming around a mostly empty school. I also didn't like the sound of some of the things she said the teacher had said to her the previous year. It tickled my spidey sense. Maybe I'd seen too many after-school specials, but I went with her to visit the teacher.

I took one look at him and knew he was scum. He went to give her a hug, so I stepped between them to introduce myself and shake his hand. I engaged him in conversation--and stayed between them. My GF was so mad at me later. Apparently, I didn't hide my opinion of him. He was her favorite teacher and I was being a jerk.

She told people that story about me for years. But she left out a key part of the story--she didn't even tell me until recently. She forgot, then casually mentioned it one day, as if I knew. A few weeks after our visit to the 40 year-old teacher, he sent my 15 year-old GF a letter. He told her she was very special and he'd always hoped they could be together. But after seeing her with me, he knew that wasn't going to happen. He just wanted her to know how he felt about her. WTHeck???

She says she was so naive, she didn't realize what the letter meant--and she never told anyone about it. She didn't realize guys don't write letters like that to say goodbye to people they like. They write them to say, "Hey, I love you and we should be together." Thankfully she never visited him again. Maybe she did know what he was up to, but didn't want to acknowledge it.

Did I mention she was 15 and he was 40??? Maybe nothing bad would have happened to her if I had just gone home that day. But still, he was scum, masquerading as a trusted authority figure. That happens far too often. I don't want to encourage distrust, but I DO want to encourage caution. We can't ignore the fact that there are bad teachers, bad police officers, bad priests, bad people (in any profession) out there. I'm tempted to say "trust no one!". But that's too extreme. There are plenty of good people.

I know my blog friends are smart. So be yourself, trust your instincts, and if you find you trusted the wrong person (as my wife did), don't.blame.yourself!!! And when you discover the person is a jerk, don't keep it a secret--tell everyone!

Also, if you're a 28 year-old, 260 pound, former football player and you see a coach taking advantage of a little boy, don't walk away--PUT A STOP TO IT!!!

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

More Oversharing

2011-11-11T11:40:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned previously, Dana tagged me with the Versatile Blogger award (Thank you!) and I need to share 7 new bits of info about myself. Some of the 7 are in response to questions from blog friends (Thank you, too!).

1. What’s the strangest thing you’ve eaten? (MizzJ): I once had my fork poised to dig into a friend’s order of calves brains, but I couldn’t do it. Today I tried Underwood chicken spread for the first time--don't buy it, it's awful. Once upon a time, sushi and octopus were strange for me, but not anymore.
2. Why don’t your posts have more pictures? (Amy): I never got into the habit of taking pics—except when my kids were tiny. Avoiding being IN pictures is one of my superpowers.
3. What color are your eyes? (Thanh-Thao): Blue. If you can stomach enlarging my profile pic, you can see the particular shade.

...and the final four bits of info:

4. I like my eggs over-easy (firm whites) or in an omelet—with lots of pepper.
5. Every night when I get home from work, I take a minute to look up at the moon and stars. That makes me smile and helps me leave work problems outside. Pity my family on cloudy nights. =)
6. Growing up I didn't get an allowance (despite LOTS of chores), but I found a few ways to make money. I think I just found a topic for new post!
7. MizzJ was curious about the near-deadly kiss I received as a 14 year-old. I rarely get asked to share a story, so I’m jumping on this opportunity! :P (Thanks MizzJ)

It was a daaarrrk night--LOL, it was Halloween, right after I encountered the gun nut. I'd been on my way to meet friends and after that slight delay, I did. The girl was with the group.

She and I had recently started talking on the bus and at school. I had just started this new thing where I actually talked with people. It was a conscious decision to change my behavior. I’d been VERY reserved up until then. She was dressed as a flapper for Halloween. Being a gentleman, I offered her my coat. She didn’t accept--she didn't want to hide her fringe. We talked, walked with the group, and looked out for the little ones. When it was time to head home, she wanted to tell me something. We walked off to get some privacy. She said her family was moving out of state that weekend and she wanted to kiss me good-bye. It was quite an experience—my first real kiss. I didn’t have anything to compare it to, but it was nice. My opinion on that would change later.

Soon, I wasn’t feeling great. By Thanksgiving I had pneumonia, which led to the discovery that I also had mononucleosis and an enlarged spleen. One of the flapper’s friends confirmed she had mono when she kissed me—she’d snuck out of her house. I was very sick. Our doctor wanted to put me in the hospital, but my parents were frugal regarding health care (you did not want to be one of our pets). I didn’t return to school until January. I wasn’t supposed to exert myself, but I joined the wrestling team. Boys have no sense!

Was it sweet that she snuck out of her house to kiss me goodbye? Or was it thoughtless to give me mono? After being so sick, I decided it was the latter. Oh well, at least it was a memorable first kiss--and, as I mentioned to Julie (who recently wore a flapper dress), it was kind of awesome to get a month off from school. See, boys have no sense!!! ;P

Have a great weekend!

Mountain Time

2011-11-08T21:30:00.000-08:00

In early August I realized I was burned out. Due to scheduling conflicts and work due dates, I had to delay a vacation until October—I planned 2 weeks. Then my boss (& almost everyone else) quit in September. After a delay, I was able to take some time off last week. I thought it would be the perfect time to visit Salem, MA. But I remembered there was a place my wife has wanted to visit for as long as I’ve known her. Natural Bridge, VA. We went there instead.

There's not a lot to see--it's a small site. Water wore away rock and left behind a thick, sturdy, natural bridge. Route 11 actually goes over it. It is scenic. A pretty little mountain creek runs through and when crows “caw” while flying under the bridge it makes an eerie sound. But that’s about it. Oh, and the bus they use to shuttle people back and forth from the bottom of the ravine (holler?) is an ancient rattle-trap. It stalled as we were getting ready to leave. The driver flooded the carburetor and refused to take my advice to push the gas pedal to the floor when he tried to restart it. He kept just turning the key, as if it was a fuel-injected engine. Ugh! We walked (rock-climbed) back to the gift-shop—where I requested and received a refund. Our fellow passengers all stayed with the bus, waiting. I hope they eventually made it out of there.

My wife dreamed of Natural Bridge because her mom went there on an elementary school field trip (probably on the same bus). She grew up hearing about it and wanted to retrace her mom’s steps. That actually made it a nice trip for me too. And the Blue Ridge Parkway is a nice drive this time of year. The trees were very colorful.

My wife also enjoyed stopping at many (many, many) antique shops along our route. I teased her I was going to tell people we had to stop fo every hillbilly selling hubcaps on the side of the road—it would be rude to ignore family! That may not be funny to you, but she almost choked. Her family is from that area (a little farther south) and (according to my dad) I’m a country boy myself...so I can say "hillbilly" without it being an insult.

Aside from the fact that the trip made her happy, the best part for me was that we had lunch one day at a Hardee’s—my first employer. They no longer operate in the DC area. Stopping there was a nice stroll down memory lane. It doesn’t take much to make me happy! =)

Halloween Rerun

2011-11-01T15:38:00.000-07:00

If the networks can show Charlie Brown every year for 45 years, I should be able to repeat the post about my strangest Halloween night. Here goes:

I was 14 and too old to trick or treat, but too young to stay in. So after re-stocking drinks in my grandma’s store, I headed for the nearby sub-division to meet up with friends. It was a quarter-mile walk in the pitch black on a country road. Perfect for a spooky night.

As I neared the subdivision, I heard a commotion near one of the houses. As I rounded the corner of the house I saw a man in his 30’s pointing a very shiny handgun at four boys--who were huddling together. I was out in the open and he pointed the gun at me briefly. Without thinking about it, I walked towards him, gestured towards the kids and asked, “What did they do?“, as if I was not a kid myself. He turned the gun back towards them. I walked over next to him and he explained that his mother’s house had been egged—and he was tired of her being harassed. I introduced myself as the grandson of the woman who ran the little store down the road (everyone knew her) and told him I’d talked with his mom many times.

Then I turned to the only one of the accused I knew:

Me: Andy, did you and your friends throw the eggs?
Andy: No.
Me: Do you know who did?
Andy: We saw guys running that way just before we got here.
Me: Okay, you two go look for the other guys and try to get names. You two help Mr. Wilson clean the egg off his mom’s house.

Mr. Wilson put his gun away, apologized to me for losing his temper, and then they all did what I told them to do. Whew!!! That’s when I realized if you act confident and that you are doing what you're supposed to, people will cooperate. It all happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to get nervous. But I did feel shaky as I went in search of my friends. That’s when I encountered the girl.

Okay, I'm not going to repeat the girl part. She kissed me, I caught mononucleosis and then pneumonia. I missed school almost the entire month of December. There were rumors I'd died, so my first week back at school was a little strange.

I ended the original post by wondering who would have guessed the girl would end up being more dangerous than the gun. But that was mostly my doing. I recognized the danger of the gun, but it never occurred to me that a girl could be dangerous too. What a naive boy. LOL!

PS - Here are this year's Halloween pumpkins.

Lucky Me & My Simple Randomness

2011-10-28T15:20:00.000-07:00

Part I: My friend Dana gave me a blog award this week and I am supposed to share seven bits of information about myself. Since I've over-shared so much in my posts (including my hat size--7 5/8), I don't know what to write. So I need your help. I'd like you to ask me questions. Is there anything you'd like to know?

Part II: I think I mentioned before that I have two posts planned on the topic of how lucky I am. This is not one of them—but it is about me being lucky....to have met some amazing people through blogging. In fact, if you're reading this, you're probably one of them. My blog friends are a great group. My last few giveaways were only for current followers, to let you know I appreciate you stopping by to say hello. I have sort of a giveaway for you today.

Dana (My Simple Randomness) is one of the amazing people I've met. She was among my first ten followers, so she's been putting up with my shenanigans for quite a while. If you don't know her, you should visit her blog--that bit of advice is today's giveaway. =)

She and I had an interesting experience last year. One Saturday morning I posted about a bad dream I'd had. Almost immediately Dana commented that she'd just had a very similar scary dream. The timing was perfect. I told her I would try to have a great dream to post about, so she could have one too. I didn't have that great dream, but she had one anyway, while awake--she found a BF who is also her BF. Pretty great!

Also, without going into details (I'd rather make it sound weird and mysterious), Dana did something wonderful this week (in addition to the award). I already knew this about her, but she showed she's the kind of person who is in a friendship to actually be a friend. She genuinely cares about people--she's a sweetheart. It was kind of touching. Normally, this is where I would make a bad joke about how I hate to be touched (emotionally). But this is no time for a bad joke--and, as usual, I can't think of a good one.

Happy Halloween!

PS - We bought our Halloween candy too early and now have to re-stock for the trick-or-treaters.

Compliment or Insult

2011-10-25T12:50:00.000-07:00

I was getting ready to write something to a blog friend, but stopped myself. Would it be taken as a compliment or an insult? My instincts have been a little off lately--and my attempts at humor have missed the mark badly a time or two. I was going to write:

"You are one in a billion!!!" (How special)

It sounds nice. But the person could think I meant:

"I know seven people just like you." (How boring)

LOL, okay, that IS a stretch. Who would take that as an insult? But you never know.

A former work spouse once mentioned that my late-20-something co-worker looked very young. I passed along the compliment...and got my head ripped off. It turned out the girl's boyfriend had dumped her the day before--he said she was too childish for him. The last thing she wanted to hear was that she looked very young. The next day I got an urge to say, "Gee, you're looking kind of old today." But I resisted the urge. A little harmless teasing can be really fun, but that wasn't the right time.

So I waited and said it to her two years later. =)

"It's My Worst Nightmare!"

2011-10-21T16:06:00.000-07:00

That's what my dog must have been thinking the past two days. For some reason, the existence of our attic freaks him out. The pull-down, folding stairs are in the ceiling of our family room. He covertly keeps an eye on the panel, to make sure it doesn't pop open. When we do open it, he leaves the room--with dispatch.

The past two days, workers have been replacing our roof. Bandit was happy to have them in the yard, where he could see them and greet them (by barking like a psycho dog). But when they got on the roof and started walking around, making noises (that seemed to be coming from the attic), he didn't know what to do with himself. The sound was everywhere, so avoiding the family room brought him no comfort.

But don't worry about Bandit. My family has been pampering him in a way that I know I'll never experience.

Darn that cute dog!!!

Have a great weekend--we're going to the pumpkin patch. =)

Five Hats

2011-10-16T12:49:00.001-07:00

That's not the name of a new store or restaurant. It's what I'm "wearing" at work. Thanks to two retirements and two resignations, I'm covering the work of five people. Well, two of them didn't do very much, so I'm really only covering the work of 3 1/2 people.

Since the departures included my boss, in addition to the extra work, I have to spend (waste) a LOT of time in meetings. It's making for longer days than usual. The standard is an 11 hour day (plus two hours commuting time).

For fun and a nice distraction, I try to spend a little time commenting on your blogs during lunch (at my desk) or just before bed. So, if my comments are shorter (or weirder and with more typos) than usual, it's not a reflection of how much I enjoy reading your blog.

I'm closing with a bad joke I heard in a movie my wife watched today, "Happily N'Ever After"--it's a CGI version of Cinderella. The hero was appropriately named Rick--or Ella, depending on your perspective. =)

Why did the little pig not need to stop to use the bathroom?
Because he went wee, wee, wee all the way home.

The wolves really howled at that one.

Drivers Around You

2011-10-14T09:54:00.000-07:00

I’ve mentioned several times that as a teenager I worked as an assistant manager at a burger joint. The other assistant was a 22 year-old blond who liked me and hated me. The guy she replaced didn’t like me either (hmmm, I wonder if that’s worth writing about?). Anyway, she often acted without taking even a second to consider the situation.

In August, she and the district manager’s daughter went to Ocean City, MD together. She had just purchased a new car and was eager to drive. As they crossed the Bay Bridge, she decided she wanted to listen to a CD that was locked in the glove compartment—and of course the key was on the same ring as her ignition key. She worried she would have an accident if she tried to remove the key while she was driving. So, she cleverly decided to turn the car off and hand the keys to her friend so the girl could open the glove box. She planned to coast for a while. What could go wrong?

What could go wrong is steering wheels lock when you turn off the engines. The portion of the bridge they were on was fairly straight—but not perfectly straight. Almost immediately her car started scraping against the guardrail. The two girls started screaming, not thinking to restart the engine and the car continued to scrap along the barrier until it came to a stop.

They were lucky the car didn’t: crash through the barrier; drift the other direction into traffic; or flip over. She KNEW steering wheels lock when you turn off the car, but it didn’t occur to her as she focused on getting the CD.

The moral of the story? Be afraid. Be very afraid—that people like her are out there!! I mean really, how could anyone hate ME??? LOL, just kidding, of course I mean be afraid because people like her are out there driving. So my friends, please drive defensively and don’t get mad when drivers do stupid things—just be glad you’re okay.

Have a nice weekend!!!

"C'mon Nancy-boy..." (It's horribly long!)

2011-10-12T16:16:00.000-07:00

While my sister and BIL’s jerky behavior is fresh in your minds (last post), I want to share a story about something I shouldn’t have done (and hopefully you’ll let me off the hook). =)

Background: This BIL is misogynistic, racist, homophobic and he’s proud of it. If you’re not a white male, you’re inferior. He refers to all Hispanics (and some Asians) as “Mexicans” because it’s “easier”. Gays deserve to be mistreated. His favorite insult is to call men by women’s names, implying they’re gay. Because, you know, what’s a bigger insult than that? (I know some guys do that to tease friends, but that’s not what he’s doing.)

My brother’s wife wanted him to have a nice birthday. So she invited the family to dinner at his favorite restaurant—a Japanese steakhouse. She even invited that sister and BIL. I was 14 when I met the guy and I knew right away he was a jerk--you couldn't miss it! But my parents put up with him because he had more than two nickels to rub together—and they wanted the rest of us to put up with him too. Peace was top priority. After they passed away, my wife’s fingernails in my arm or leg helped me continue to bite my tongue.

I lucked out at dinner. We were in a private room with two cooking surfaces and my BIL was at the other table on the opposite side. I didn’t have to hear him and my vegetable fried rice was great. Towards the end of dinner, I excused myself to visit the men’s room. On my way there I passed my nephew. He was very upset. Apparently the BIL had been harassing the chef at their table. The gentleman was Asian, but the BIL kept calling him “Jose”, asking him if he had his green card, and threatening to have him deported to Mexico. He'd done much worse in the past, but it still made me angry. My nephew asked me not to make a scene.

I wasn’t sure if I could stay there and bite my tongue, again! I’d used up all the patience I had for that guy. When I got back to the table I gave my brother his present, gave his wife money for dinner, and very quietly thanked my BIL for ruining the party (for everyone at his table) with his racist remarks. Then my wife and I headed home. We talked as we drove and I told her that someday I needed to tell that jerk off good and proper. Then I wondered aloud if I was calm enough to do it “now”. My wife said, “I think you are!” So I turned the car around. We were only a mile from the restaurant.

There was a parking spot right in front of the restaurant, so clearly the universe wanted me to go in. I headed for the private room, but my wife stopped near the bar area to talk with my oldest sister (she LOVES to be referred to that way). Dinner was over and my BIL was talking to my brothers. I joined their conversation. Okay, I interrupted their conversation. I shook my BIL’s hand and said, “With all due respect (which I meant in the traditional way—no respect), I’ve listened to your ignorant, racist, homophobic comments long enough. I’m done. From now on, keep it to yourself.” He claimed he had no idea what I was talking about. I looked to my brothers for corroboration—we’d had 100 conversations about it. One brother looked at his shoes, the other at the ceiling, both with goofy grins. I guess I caught them off-guard.

Disappointed, I turned to my BIL and told him I’d said my peace and I expected him to keep his ugly remarks to himself. He just stood there looking at me with his hands in his pockets. I headed towards the door. But just before I reached it, my BIL said, “You have a problem Shirley!” My brain exploded. He was right—and now he did too. There was NO WAY I was going to let him offend the Toothfairy by using her name as an insult. {Actually, I didn’t know TF yet—I miss her.}

I stalked back towards him, fists ready, steam coming out of my ears. My sister-in-law said she’d never seen anything like it. My brothers got between us, but I was focused on my BIL’s hands. I challenged him to fight and wanted him to raise his hands to defend himself (I could shove the brothers out of the way). He didn’t, he just stood there with his hands still in his pockets. I tried to bait him by "insulting" him on his level. I said, “C’mon Nancy-boy, take your hands out of your pockets. Let’s go!” He refused and I knew the moment had passed. I warned the BIL to keep his mouth shut and I headed for the door again. He didn’t say a word this time. Unfortunately, my wife missed the whole thing.

As we were driving home, I got a terrible pain in my chest. I wondered if I’d gotten so angry I was having a heart attack. But it was a different kind of pain. Disappointment. While things were still civil, neither brother backed me up when the BIL denied his ugly comments and behavior. They had complained about that guy for YEARS, but just stood there grinning when the time came to speak up. That gave him the opportunity to claim innocence.

When we got home, I was still too angry to go inside. So I went for a walk. While I circled the block, my wife received a play-by-play over the phone from our sister-in-law. Apparently she and her kids thought it was great. They had been waiting for someone to tell that BIL off (I got 2 cakes on Father’s Day that year). My sister called the next day to apologize for her husband’s behavior. I got the feeling she was waiting for me to apologize too. I didn’t.

A few weeks later the family gathered for a wedding. I was feeling playful at the reception, so every once in a while I furrowed my brow and headed for my BIL. It really made my sisters nervous. They didn’t catch on, even after I’d start laughing and stop to talk with someone else. I did make small talk with the BIL that day—life goes on. The silver lining to my tantrum is that he has been a perfect gentleman ever since.

PS - (As if this needs to be longer) Except for the guy who asked me (3 times) to hit him, I've never started a fight. So please don't get the idea I go around threatening to punch people. I'm mild-mannered. =)

Time with Siblings

2011-10-10T15:20:00.000-07:00

I've been planning two posts on how very lucky I am. But I'm putting them aside for a family post. My father's sister passed away recently--that side of the family is not long lived. By coincidence, she passed on the same day my father did (a few years earlier). I thought this might be an opportunity to see my brothers and sisters. It wasn't.

Of my five siblings, only one of them made it to either a viewing or the funeral. The others were too busy. The sister that did make it to a viewing made quite a splash. She and her husband informed the deceased aunt's daughter that her (the aunt's daughter's) infant son is "probably retarded"--because the boy likes to hold a soft cloth against his cheek while he drinks a bottle. I'd estimate that 80% of the babies I've ever seen liked to do that--it's comforting, which is something my sister and her husband know nothing about.

Before that happened, I commented to my sister how strange it was for our dad's sister to die on the same day in September that he did. What were the odds? (I know, 1-in-365, but let's not be so literal.) Her response, "Really? Dad died on that day?"

Family!!!

"Start a business" by Kym (and my last business idea)

2011-10-06T15:24:00.000-07:00

Kym recently completed a nice video explaining the process she went through in deciding to start a business and how to start a business (Herrohachi). You should check it out—even if you’re not considering starting a business, the bloopers are a hoot. =)

I started a business or two as a kid--but it was kid-stuff (and will be the topic of another post). As an adult, I've been a 9-to-5'er (and at times, an 8-to-all-nighter). My ideas to start businesses have been few, but my very favorite was nixed by my wife--it was a service people would really want.

One rainy Saturday I found myself thinking back to Sunday school and how the nuns had us pray for souls in Purgatory. And I remembered my grandmother praying for her 10 siblings. She had outlived them all.

Then I had a great idea for a new business--Catholic Brothers Prayer Service!!! I'm Catholic (sort of) and a brother. We would offer to include your loved ones in the Prayer Servce's (my) prayers. The operation would undoubtedly incur costs (like me charging me rent). So, the Brothers would have to request you pay a $5 administrative fee to be included in their (my) nightly prayers (5 nights for $20 and, like Vegas, big spenders would sometimes be comped). The ad would include a clear (tiny) statement that the fees were not tax deductible.

Sure, it sounds shady--and if someone else did it, it would be. But if I did it, it would be okay. In the US, many small businesses organize as limited liability companies--LLC's. But the Prayer Service would have been set up under a different section of the tax code, as a "heLLC" (the IRS provides really cool handbaskets when you sign up for one of these).

Okay, clearly this is one of those ridiculous posts that spring up here every once in a while--and provides a little insight into what my wife has to put up with. I did think about Sunday school and my grandmother and then the crazy Prayer Service idea popped into my head. I shared it with my wife that evening over dinner.

Just as I'd hoped, she laughed, rolled her eyes, and said, "You're a strange man." She was right. I started with a nice thought (praying for people) and made it weird. Also, she told me I couldn't do it, just in case I wasn't joking (I was). LOL!

PS - Friends would always be comped. :)

PS II - The handbasket reference = "Going to hell in a handbasket"

A Knock at the Door

2011-10-01T08:16:00.000-07:00

It's Saturday morning. Since it was a long, tiring week. I slept a little late. Not long after I got up (and while I was still in my PJ's), there was a knock at the door. Bandit went nuts barking--as he always does when we have visitors or mail delivery or people (even small children) just walking down our street. I opened the door to find two Jehovah's Witnesses on the porch.

I have nothing against Jehovah's Witnesses, except, well, they seem to have terrible timing. How did they know to show up the Saturday I slept late and was still in my PJ's? The very earnest looking young man of the twosome tried to hand me the Watchtower magazine and asked how I would feel if I was lied to. I smiled because my brain wanted to say, "I would exact revenge with swift and horrorible violence!" and then lean forward to ask the boy in a mean voice, "Would you ever lie to me???"

But I didn't. As I said, he looked very earnest--and his cheeks were pink and fuzzy. So instead I informed them it wasn't a good time since I was still in my PJ's.

One Saturday I conducted a little experiment with a pair of JW's. My wife was at the grocery store and as I got out of the shower I heard a knock at the door. I thought it was her. So I wrapped the towel around me and went to open the door. It was JW's. I decided to act as if I was fully dressed to see if and for how long the elderly couple would talk to a man wearing nothing but a towel--thankfully the towel did not slip. I also tried to interest them in becoming Catholic (which I am, just barely). I didn't get to complete the experiment. My wife came home an hour later and broke it up. (I think I've mentioned this before)

ANother bit of fun with JW's came on a Saturday morning we were getting ready to attend a wedding. The doorbell rang just as I was getting in the shower, so my wife answered the door. When I came out of the bathroom, she was still at the door. I heard one of the JW's say "it can be frustrtating to see people down the street not lead good lives, but get material rewards--new cars, boats...". I joined my wife at the door...again in a towel, that's weird now that I think of it (I never walk around the house in a towel). But anyway, I told the couple, "We ARE the evil people down the street and also late for a wedding". I'm pretty sure I said "thank you" and "goodbye" as I shut the door.

Again, I have nothing against Jehovah's Witnesses. They're trying to help me, in their way--which I don't share. But it's okay. They're not overly pushy and in the future when I'm a lonely shut-in, I am going to talk their ears off when they visit. If you're a JW, I hope you'll come visit me then--it'll be fun (when I turn into Grandpa Simpson).

Is it just me or do Jehovah's Witnesses have bad timing with you too?

Spaving

2011-09-24T20:12:00.000-07:00

It's weird to mention the same blogger two posts in a row, but I learned the word "spaving" from Kristie. It means saving by spending. The word was new, but I've been familiar with the concept for quite some time (my wife is a couponer)--and how that concept gets misused. You aren't saving money when you get a bargain on something you don't "need". Since we all define "need" differently, I won't get into that. But I do want to share a story about my oldest brother and his first wife. Let's call them Fredo and Ivant.

When I was 18, Ivant wanted a sporty car and Fredo wanted to get it for her. He had a good job, but didn't have enough cash on hand. So he asked to borrow $5,000 (someday I'll do a post on why I had five grand). He promised to pay me back $250 a month and in a little over two years the debt would be repaid. The only interest on the loan was that I'd get to borrow the car once in a while.

They made the first two payments, but then something came up and they missed the 3rd payment. And the 4th. And the 5th. My brother was full of excuses about why he didn't have the money. Then at a family cookout I gained some insight on what was really going on. His wife, Ivant, went on and on to my mother about all the things she'd been buying--and what great deals she was getting. She was so proud. Then she mentioned a new gaming system she bought...and she asked my opinion on the price she paid. I told her it didn't matter what I thought, but she kept asking and finally insisted. So I told her what I thought...that when people can't pay the bills they have, it's time to stop buying things they don't need--no matter how great a deal it is!!!

She started crying and ran in my parent's house. I wanted to feel guilty, but it didn't happen.

I can't prove this, but I'm not a cheap person. But I am responsible and I expect people to do what they say they are going to do. I would have been happy to revise the repayment terms, but they preferred to ignore the debt while spendng like crazy.

Within a few weeks my brother repaid the remaining $4,500 (they borrowed the money from her parents) and we didn't talk much until two years later. He often needed me to watch their kids in the middle of the night so he could go looking for his wife. She was cheating on him with his best friend and soon they were divorced. So even if I had felt guilty about making her cry, it wouldn't have lasted very long.

Should I have felt guilty? Was I too harsh? I'm tempted to say it was only money, but there was a principle involved too. What do you think???

UK

2011-09-17T12:16:00.000-07:00

Kristie is headed for the UK and that reminded me of a terrible joke (set in London). In the middle of the night, a constable stops a young couple walking down the street and asks if they live in the neighborhood. The woman points to a building and responds, "Yes sir, I live there and he has the flat behind." Yuk-yuk-yuk!

I think the Brittish may have invented "your momma" jokes. Old lines like, "Your mother's mouth is so big, she gets lipstick in her ears when she smiles" or "Your mother's mouth is so big she has to keep her false teeth in a bucket".

Other lines I've heard on Brittish shows:

"What's that in the road...a head?" is not how you want to ask what's ahead in the road.

"What's this thing called, love?" isn't what Cole Porter wrote.

Clearly I have nothing to post about. Actually, I do, but yes, this is a post about nothing--except hoping Kristie has a wonderful trip. =)

Have a great weekend folks!

Paying Our Respects...

2011-09-11T00:01:00.000-07:00

to the living and the deceased. It's important, on an individual level and to groups of people we've never met--Memorial day, All Saints' Day, Veterans Day, All Souls' Day, etc. The 9/11 aniversary and a few other things have me thinking about this.

I saw a fellow almost cause an accident because he wanted to go when his traffic light turned green, rather than wait and let a funeral procession continue through the intersection. Waiting two minutes was too much to ask. But when we encounter a funeral procession, we have to let it go first. We probably don't know the person, but he or she was important to someone and stopping is the least we can do to pay our respects to the passing of the deceased and the grieving of the living. Do unto others...

My grandfather was the first loved one I lost. I was 7. It didn't seem real. Later I learned that it never does. I managed to annoy my dad at the funeral home. I thought I saw my grandpa's hand move. I didn't make a scene, dad just didn't want me telling people.

A semi-tradition started the next time I lost a relative. I think I was 12. Again I annoyed my dad, but that's not the tradition (at least not the one I'm blogging about). My grandfather's brother died and as my aunts planned the funeral I heard one say, "We'll have Ricky be a pall-bearer." At the time my reaction was to wonder why my 15 and 18 year-old brothers didn't have to do it. Plus, my mom's family was large, so why me? I felt differently about it by the time the funeral ended. Experiencing a funeral for the first time, the collective grief, I was glad to have had a way to show my respects and be helpful. It was an honor.

I lost my mom when I was 25 and my dad some years later. After that, I'd been a pall-bearer 12 times. I'd rather be a god father again, or a best man, but attending funerals is part of life too. It's good to help family and friends celebrate their happy moments, but it's even more important to be there to support them in their moments of grief...to pay our respects.

PS - This is my first scheduled post. I wanted the date to be 9/11, but didn't want to stay up until 3am (EST).

Snakes

2011-09-06T16:07:00.000-07:00

Our slithery friends have, on occasion, been portrayed as evil. But a snake is just a snake, neither good nor bad. Which reminds me of the story of a girl who had to deliver food to her grandfather--he lived on the other side of a mountain. As she climbed, the air started getting colder. So she buttoned up her coat. Soon, she came across a half-frozen snake on the path. The snake asked for help.

Snake: I need to get to the other side of the mountain, but it's too cold. Would you please put me inside your coat and carry me with you???
Girl: No way! You're a snake, you'll bite me.
Snake: I won't, I promise. You can trust me because if I bite you, I'll freeze.

The girl saw the snake's logic and picked him up, putting him inside her coat. Ten steps later she felt a pain in her side. The snake had bitten her.

Girl: You bit me!!! You promised you wouldn't, but you bit me!
Snake: Hey, I'm a snake, it's what I do. It's your fault for picking me up.

Soooo, if you want to help someone you know is a snake, try to do it in a way that you won't get hurt. And if you do get hurt, don't be surprised if the snake blames you. It's what snakes do.

PS - No matter how reasonable it sounds, ALWAYS question a snake's logic. =)

(Note: I can't remember where I heard this story. Church? Probably not. I do have a snake story of my own, but it's about a real snake and has no point--except that it's good to have cats outside your house. Today I just wanted to make a point about human snakes. Too bad cats can't take care of them!)

I'm not Greta!!!

2011-09-02T15:14:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you've all heard this old joke:

Person A: Surely you jest.
Person B: Don't call me Shirley!

Thanks to one of my most frequent typos, my comments may have had you reacting similar to Person B above. But in this case it would be, "Why did Rick call me Greta???"

I didn't. I don't even know anyone named Greta. Sure, I've heard of Greta Garbo, but I can't name a single thing she did. Anyway, in my comments, "greta" = "great".

So, my wonderful blog friends, accept the fact that, yes, you are greta!

Hope you have a gre.....um, a wonderful weekend.

Can you fail a personality test???

2011-08-30T21:49:00.000-07:00

Probably not, but I'm not sure how accurate they are. I found this one on Elaine's blog. My results have a few inaccuracies (I think). I'm really an introvert, but manage to hide that because meeting people and getting to know them is interesting. Also, the cautious is overstated. I stay aware of my surroundings so I can react quickly when I need to, but my reactions are not always cautious. But what do I know--we never see ourselves as clearly as we see others. Right? =)

Competent
You strive to master everything you undertake. You tend to learn quickly and do not shy away from challenges.

You are not a "que sera sera" type of person, nor do you go easy on yourself when attempting to master a new skill or get a job done.

Warm
You have a genuine interest in other people. You're a natural host, and are always thinking about how you can increase the happiness of those around you. When friends have problems or are in trouble, you're usually the first person they turn to for aid and comfort. Scoring high on the "warm" trait suggests that you are enthusiastic about charitable work, helping others, and making the world a better place.

Understanding
You are willing to take the time to find out what's going on with other people, especially if they're in distress. You're a good listener, you don't criticize, and you offer unbiased, respectful, honest advice when it's requested. With a high score on the "understanding" trait, it is likely that you are enthusiastic about charitable work, helping others, and making the world a better place.

Cautious
You very rarely make a move without first considering the pros and cons and, therefore, rarely do anything foolish or extravagant.

You are not rash; you almost never act before you think and, therefore, rarely end up doing things you later regret.

Calm
You rarely become irritated, generally accept people as they are, take things as they come, and feel relaxed in most situations.

You do not let a minor annoyance escalate to a confrontation. You don't regularly snap at those around you or fly off the handle with little provocation.

Innovative
You come up with a lot of ideas; if one doesn't work out, there's always another waiting in the wings. You often have interesting solutions to difficult problems. You're practically a one-person brainstorming session.

You are less interested changing the world than in dealing with things as they are. Unlike those who spend all their time trying to solve problems, you prefer to zero in on things that work and stick with them.

Astute
You are a quick study. You generally don't need to have things explained to you more than once. When presented with a problem, you will often have an instant understanding of where to look for the solution.

You do not take your sweet time when presented with a new task to complete or problem to solve. You don't avoid assignments that require you to learn new skills.

Scrupulous
You are an honest, fair person. You don't lie or cheat to get ahead. You treat others with respect and hope for the same in return.

You do not feel that you are above the rules that everyone else follows.

Upbeat
You enjoy being around others and others enjoy being around you. You have a "live and let live" attitude; because you know that no one's perfect, you are forgiving and happy to give the benefit of the doubt.

Empathetic
You are in touch with your own feelings, which helps put you in touch with the feelings of others.

You don't buy the logic that your happiness comes ahead of everyone else's.

Bad Rick - The Teenager

2011-08-27T21:48:00.000-07:00

When you stop a video of someone speaking, that single frame usually shows their face contorted in such a way that you hardly recognize them--even if it's someone you know very well. It's usually funny and we all know that image does not reflect what they truly look like. Keep that in mind as you read this post about my most embarrassing teenage outbursts. Also keep in mind that my previous post shows I am a sensitive guy. =)

During fall of my sophmore year, I was playing football in gym class. An opponent cheated. I called him on it. He got mad and started yelling at me--he said, "If you don't like it, you can hit me!" Other players told me to let it go, it didn't matter. I told them if it didn't matter, the game wouldn't have rules. That caused the cheater to escalate his temper fit. He got in my face, yelling, and repeating the invitation for me to hit him. When he said it for the 3rd time, I knew he was serious. So I decked him! The shocked look on his face as he went down was amusing--he thought if he made enough noise, I would back down. The good news is his dad decided not to press charges--when he heard the story, he laughed. I didn't even get detention (and my dad gave me a nod of approval).

During my junior year, I invited a classmate to dinner. It was during one of those off-again periods in my relationship with my future wife. Anyway, while my date and I waited for a table, 3 guys walked in. One said, "Oh man, I'd like to get a hold of that blond." I thought, "What a pig!" and scanned the dining room for the poor girl. Guess what? The dining room held only brunettes. My date was the only blond in the place!!! That all took about two seconds and I heard one of the other guys say, "C'mon Joe, behave." As I turned to face them, Joe asked the guy what he had said. In two steps I was in front of Joe and replied: "He said don't be stupid Joe. But you and I know that's impossible for you, don't we!!!" I was...angry and Joe had a shocked look on his face, like he had no idea I could hear or speak. The civilized friend grabbed the other two and pulled them out of the restaurant.

Epilogue: My date kept pestering me to tell her what I said to make the guys leave--she didn't hear any of it. I finally told her and expected her reaction would be: c) annoyed at the crude guy; or perhaps b) annoyed at the crude guy and me. But her reaction was: a) giddy and giggly. I didn't like that so much. It's one thing for me to disregard my own safety, but a date should think a little differently. I guess I was hard to please back then. LOL!

This last one (also junior year) is the worst. My future wife and I were walking up a staircase at school and heard a commotion on the landing. As we got higher I could see a senior was pointing down, laughing and taunting someone. When we got high enough to see the whole landing, we spotted a freshman (picture Harry Potter in the 1st movie) on the floor, crying, his nose bleeding, his glasses broken, and his books spread out on the floor. Someone had rigged the stairwell door so it could only open a few inches. In his hurry to get to his next class, the freshman ran into the faulty door. And that hyena of a senior was reveling in the kid's pain. That made me...angry. Something from an after-school special on women's self-defense popped into my head. As I got to the top of the stairs I shifted my books from my right hand to my left hand and then I grabbed the hyena by his adam's apple (and maybe pushed him up against the wall, maybe). I accused him of rigging the door and asked him if he thought it was funny when someone got hurt...and asked him if it would be funny if his face got smashed against a door (I didn't threaten to DO it, just asked if he thought it would be funny). Having watched too many movies, I made him fix the door and made him responsible for it. I told him if anyone else got hurt running into it, I was going to look for him--and I wouldn't be as pleasant next time. As we walked away, my future wife asked how I knew the guy was the one who rigged the door. I didn't, I just felt he needed to learn a lesson. And for some reason I thought it was my job to teach him.

Okay, this post makes me sound crazy, but my wife wouldn't keep me around if that was true. My grandma drilled it in to me to help people, stand up for them...and my dad drilled it into me to stand up to bullies and loudmouths--you can't just hope someone else will take care of it. But today I handle things differently. Humor can diffuse most situations.

But then again, there was the Nancy-boy situation...and the guy who insulted my wife...and the truck driver who stalked me...and...

My next post will show the results of a personality test I just took. I found it on Elaine's new blog.

Need to shed a few tears?

2011-08-25T16:46:00.000-07:00

If you do--and you like old movies, watch Penny Serenade. Cary Grant!

For my male readers, watch The Dirty Dozen. LOL, a commercial for The Dirty Dozen came on right after Penny Serenade went off.

PS - A Child Is Waiting is also hard to get through.

Bad Rick: The Child

2011-08-22T11:00:00.000-07:00

Do you think temper is rooted in nature or nurture? As I said in my last post, I believe I was born to be easy-going--as I am today. I have a theory that I have my middle brother to thank for me being able to deviate from my normal, easy-going nature. My oldest brother has no temper. My middle brother goes ape at the drop of a hat. I thought I had two choices in dealing with that powder keg: slink away like our oldest brother did or get mad too and get a little adrenaline flowing to defend myself. (Gandhi who???)

On to my evil childhood! I don't remember the following incidents, but they are part of our family lore and I've heard the stories 100 times--maybe more.

Toddler Rick was adorable (there are no pictures to prove otherwise). My mom loved to tell the story about the day my dad gave me a little smack for something. I didn't think I deserved it so I smacked him back. He was amused (and so was she, but not for the same reason he was), pleased (because I had spunk), but didn't want me to think I could get away with that. He hit me a little harder to make his point. So I hit him a little harder. We went back and forth and it escalated until one of us was on his butt on the floor. I hated to do that to him, but he had to learn. Do you believe that? I didn't think so. Of course I was the one on the floor--I think that's when I first started to learn that talking was a good option.

Another family favorite is about 4-year-old Rick. One day, four of my older siblings were playing in our front yard and wouldn't allow me to join them. I watched them from behind our glass-paned storm door. According to the story, they took time away from their game to start taunting me about not being allowed to play. They could see my little eyebrows furrow down and increased their taunts. My middle brother came over to the door and knelt down to make faces at me right up against the glass. That was a mistake. I balled up my little fist and punched him in the nose--through one of the glass panes. Luckily, no one got cut.

Only my middle brother remembers the next (and last) story. I was not in school yet, so I was probably five--and already employing tactical strategy in dealing with him. He was 3 years older, bigger and stronger. But he came home from school at the same time everyday and everyday he came in our back door and crossed through the dining room. One day I climbed up onto a chair next to the dining room door and waited for him, with a skillet. As he crossed the threshold, I supposedly knocked him in head, then dropped it and ran screaming to our mother that Sonny was trying to hit me with a skillet. I have no idea if that is true. If it is, it was a rotten (or possibly great) thing to do. But then again, if you knew my brother you'd wonder why I didn't hit him again. I blogged this story once, but it's such a family favorite I'm repeating it. Also, it highlights the importance of varying your schedule. You never know when a 5 year-old with a score to settle might be waiting for you!!! =)

Okay, those 3 stories are it for childhood, I didn't leave anything out. Some of you may remember the mushroom story, but I won't repeat that here.

The next post in this theme will be about the teen years--starting at 16. One of the 3 stories is a little scary (and probably the worst except for the Nancy-boy story), one is funny and the other is...well, it makes three.

Note: Last summer, my brother apologized for all the "stuff" he did when we were kids--and said he wondered why I was even willing to talk to him. I let him off the hook by reminding him of the skillet story. =)

Darkside IV: Evil Rick

2011-08-18T16:15:00.000-07:00

I have been on a break from posting. I think I only have one in August so far. But I have found something to post about while still caught in a cycle of too much work and not the best attitude—this is the perfect time to share more “Darkside” stories. I don’t have many. =)

But first, I think I was born to be mild-mannered and diplomatic and 99.9% of the time I am. Most people can’t even imagine me getting angry. But of course we all get angry and under the right circumstances we all display some level of a temper (I'm setting up my defense here). While pushing my buttons today is a difficult thing to do—much harder than when I was a teenager, on occasion people do still stumble onto the code (0,0,0, destruct--Star Trek and Futurama fans will recognize that).

Like the fellow who decided driving 5 miles over the speed limit was too slow for him. So he passed me, crossing a double yellow line, while we were approaching the top of a hill. The on-coming metro bus swerved into my lane to avoid hitting the jerk. The thing looked like a 20-ton monster bearing down on me. Thankfully I had room to swerve out of the way (as the jerk sped off). That made me mad. But, I told myself I should just let it go, no one got hurt--following him would be crazy. Then as I pulled into my destination (a gas station) I spotted the jerk buying gas. The universe presented me with a teachable moment, so I HAD to discuss with him what happened. At first he shrugged and smuggly said, “Nothing I can do about it.” He was wrong--and to my ears it sounded like he was telling me to "blank"-off. By the time I finished yelling at him he had: apologized for almost getting me killed; admitted he was a moron; and promised that he had learned his lesson and would never, ever do anything like that again. I felt good about being able to help him grow as a person. ;P

But me getting mad isn’t always extreme, it can come in small doses. One Sunday my wife spotted a stray dog at the edge of our backyard. She wanted to go get it, but we were late for a gathering. (We take in strays all the time, so don’t get the wrong idea.) As I encouraged her away from our sliding door, we noticed the dog’s owner walking up. I started to unlock the door, but my wife stopped me. She said, “Oh no you don’t, I see that gleam in your eyes and the little smile. We don't have time, we're late, remember!!!” She claims that when I get just a little mad (and have a plan to share it) about things like a guy letting his dog run loose in the neighborhood, I get a certain little smile on my face…one that people don’t understand until I start talking to them. I have no idea if that’s true or not, but it probably is

I have a few more stories (Child; Teenager; Adult; and Nancy-boy) to share and I would love to get your opinions on whether I acted appropriately for the situation or perhaps went too far (especially "the nancy-boy" incident). Was my response "justified" by the provocation? I say YES, but it's easy to rationalize our own behavior ("I don't think anything I've ever done was wrong!"). ;P

PS - This reminds me of one of my favorite exchanges:

The Hulk: Don't make me angry, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry!
Villian: I don't like you now!

Finding it difficult to write

2011-08-07T14:15:00.000-07:00

Before getting to this post, I want to take a moment to applaud my blog friends who had the courage to read and comment on my previous post—the one titled, “Could I Live With You?” LOL! Of course, once you read it you understood I wasn’t asking to move in, just addressing how little things can be annoying when you spend a lot of time with someone AND you're stressed out.

I want to follow-up with a post on how we react differently to the same actions committed by different people. But I've re-written it 4 times and it got worse each time. So here are just the long bullet points:

--The more we like someone, the easier it is to overlook minor annoyances.
--People we don't like annoy us just by being there, so they can't get away with doing the very same things we overlook with a friend.
--The jerks notice, but most don't understand why they're treated differently.
--I work at treating everyone the same, but fail (despite a co-worker from the Baltimore ghetto--who dresses like a $2 hooker--telling my wife she likes me because I treat everyone the same. I try, but I don't. Because...
--Some people are just too damn annoying--I'm thinking of the co-worker who has tried to explain to me 50 times why she buys value meals instead of buying the items individually. Who would have guessed something called a #$%&*# value meal might cost less??? She tries to plant herself in my office and I have to throw her butt out so I can get work done. Can you tell I'm in a mood? =)

Finally, this will seem unrelated, but if I gave you the 12 page version of the post it would make sense. I want to mention that while it's important to support our friends, we can't do it blindly. I think that's how World War I got started. Sometimes our friends are wrong. As a friend, you should give them a reality check when they need it.

Okay, I'm done. I'm going to take a little break from posting until I remember how to write. To make sure you don't forget about me, I'll be logging in to comment. I don't want to lose touch with you because [see last line of the post].

Mayra mentioned having a scoring chart for the quiz, so I made one up. A perfect score called for 9 C's, followed by "yes", "no" and "buy" (helloooo Kristie and S&C). ;P

8-9 C's: Like Mary Poppins, you're practically perfect
6-7 C's: It would be great having you around.
4-5 C's: What's a few differences among friends.
2-3 C's: Time apart can be good for friendships.
1-2 C's: Are we related?
Nada C's: These are the people I live with.

So if you like someone enough, love them, or have entered into a tontine with them, a few minor annoyances are definitely worth it--regardless of how they answered. Like it or not, I think my blog friends (including you Mayra) are all Mary Poppinses (sp?). =)

Could I Live With You???

2011-07-31T10:13:00.000-07:00

Don't panic, I'm not asking if I may live with you. Just wondering how difficult it would be for both of us. This post is about how difficult it can be at times to share living space--especially when you're struggling to avoid acting badly at home as a result of craziness at work (that'll be a separate post) that leaves you out of patience, very tired, and almost looking for a fight.

We all have our little habits, preferences and beliefs that can be annoying to others and leave us wondering why they go out of their way to annoy us. Right? Here's a short quiz to see if we could share space without driving each other crazy (like Neil Simon's "Odd Couple").

1. It's too hot, too cold or too something to cook, so you offer to buy me dinner. When the bill arrives, do you:
a. pay with my credit card? (If yes, well played!!!)
b. inform me you brought no cash or credit cards?
c. ask if I'd like coffee or dessert before you pay?

2. I make well-drained tuna for our lunch. There are leftovers in the bowl and you agree to cover it and put it away. Would you:
a. cover the bowl with the wrap of your choice, but leave 30% of the opening uncovered?
b. tear off a 12 foot section of the wrap, wadding it up on the bottom so the bowl wobbles like a weeble?
c. use an appropriate length of the wrap, centered over the bowl so that it is completely covered?
3. You rinse unused ketchup off your plate and pieces of your uneaten dinner (maybe a few shreds of lettuce, bread crumbs, whatever) fall into the sink. Do you:
a. set your plate on the counter and walk away?
b. put your plate in the dishwasher and walk away?
c. rinse the ketchup and food out the sink?

4. You decide to have a snack that includes peanut butter. As you begin to stick a knife into an essentially full jar of PB, do you:
a. drive the knife to the bottom of the jar, getting PB all over the handle?
b. put the PB encrusted knife in the dishwasher (where the PB will harden and still be there after the wash cycle)?
c. clean any excess PB off the knife?

5. Since it's again too whatever to cook, we order pizza for dinner. Do you leave the empty pizza box:
a. on the electric stove top burners?
b. balanced on top of an over-flowing trash can?
c. inside the trash bag (crushed and folded) or in the recycling bin?

6. As you get out of the shower you notice hair accumulated in the drain. Do you:
a. ignore it, since you're done?
b. feel glad you're leaving a part of yourself behind to share with others?
c. take 2 seconds to clear the drain with a tissue (or whatever, just clear the drain!)?

7. Do you squeeze the toothpaste tube at the:
a. top?
b. middle?
c. bottom?

8. When you get home, do you put your keys:
a. wherever?
b. someplace?
c. where they belong?

9. It's 110F outside. Is that your cue to:
a. throw open the curtains on the sunny side of the house?
b. boil potatoes to make pototo salad?
c. keep the curtains closed and the stove/oven off?

10. Do you replace the soap or TP in the bathroom if you're the one who finished it off? Are newspapers at the end of the driveway invisable to you? If you needed new socks, would you buy them or permanently "borrow" mine?

So, would we drive each other crazy? Or maybe I'd drive you crazy about driving me crazy??? LOL, okay, most of these things are goofy, meaningless, little nothings. But little things like this and even little things you normally think are cute, can suddenly become very, very annoying when you are exhausted and in a bad mood...and I have been this week.

Has that made me a jerk at home? Not yet. When I get home from work I take a deep breath before going in the house and remind myself that the aggravation I feel belongs at work. So far, it has stayed there...and mostly so have I. I've worked way too many hours over the past week or so and I haven't been on-line much. I'm sorry I've missed so many of your posts, but hopefully I can catch up soon.

Getting back to the point of this post, so, could I live with you??? Be careful how you answer because if I quit my job, the next question might be, "May I live with you???" LOL!

Germans Not Funny???

2011-07-25T08:52:00.000-07:00

Apparently there is a conpsiracy in Europe to create the impression that Germans are not funny people--they placed last in a survey. Being 50% German myself, I want to thank Steven Colbert for proving that false. Skip the nonsense about John Lennon and jump ahead to the 2:15 mark in the video. But I'm not 100% convinced that guy is really German--he almost smiled once!

PS - While Germans were last, the survey placed Americans first!!! =)

The Colbert Report
Get More: Colbert Report Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,Video Archive

My Wheelhouse

2011-07-20T15:37:00.000-07:00

Baseball announcers rarely make it through a game without saying, “That pitch was in his wheelhouse.” I’m sure it has other meanings, but in baseball the “wheelhouse” is the area where a hitter’s swing of the bat has the most power. I’ve been told that in blogging, my wheelhouse is the story with a lesson (I think my wheelhouse is commenting on your posts). I haven’t done one of those posts in a while—I think I’m running out of stories. But I thought of one today and it involves baseball (but not a wheelhouse).

I played my first little league game when I was 12. The game couldn’t have started better. I was playing center field and the very first batter hit a ball over my head. I ran back as fast as I could. When I looked up, the ball seemed to be just sitting there in mid-air, waiting for me to catch it. I did. The next batter did almost the same thing, but the ball was more to my right. Again, I made the catch. My teammates and their parents were cheering like crazy. When I went to hit for the first time, I was nervous—it was my first at-bat in front of a crowd. I think adrenaline took over because I crushed the ball. I hit a homerun. As I scored I heard a parent ask “who is that kid?” and my mom proudly said, “He’s my son.” I was a hero to my team. But I knew that even when you try your hardest, sometimes you’re going to strike out. That’s just how it is. So I stayed humble, I didn’t need to learn a lesson about that, I already knew it. But fate was determined to teach me a lesson that day anyway.

The score was tied in the last inning. The other team had a runner on 2nd base and there was one out. The next batter hit a ground ball to me in center field. If I picked it up quickly and made a perfect throw to home plate, I might have gotten the runner out before he scored the winning run for the other team. I didn’t have a strong throwing arm, but I was going to try my best. Then the ball hit a rock (it was a school playground, not Fenway Park) and took a funny bounce. I missed it and the winning run scored. I felt awful that we lost.

After retrieving the ball, I was the last one to get to our team’s bench. As I got close, I could hear the grumbling about how I had lost the game for my team. And it wasn’t just the kids. The parents were making cracks too—that it was my fault we lost. My mom didn’t know what to say, so she folded her lawn chair and headed for the car. Did anyone mention that the runner would probably have scored even if I had done everything perfectly? Did anyone mention that we would have been behind by three runs if I hadn’t caught those two balls earlier and hit a homerun? No. They wanted a scapegoat for losing. I went from team hero to team goat in an instant. It was a great introduction to little league and the all too prevalent "What have you done for me lately" approach to life.

That day played a part in me understanding that when you’re the hero, everyone is your friend. When you’re the goat, you learn who your true friends are. Also, I learned that when people are emotionally invested in something (as too many parents are in kids’ games), logic and graciousness can go out the window and you have to ignore their ignorance. I wasn’t the reason my team lost that game, but the people offering opinions said it was entirely my fault. ALSO II, I learned it’s important to: 1) console the “goats” in life; 2) be a good loser—don’t start pointing fingers of blame; and 3) be a good winner—don’t act like a jerk and rub it in.

Enjoy your victories, but don’t take your losses to heart—you need to be ready for the next game, the next exam, the next career move, or the next challenge. Don’t define yourself by a single moment in your life. But if you must, make it a positive one. =)

More Oversharing

2011-07-16T23:42:00.000-07:00

Meibelle started a questions tag and I want to do it before I forget—I have a real problem remembering to do tags. (I'm sorry if I've missed a few.)

1. What do you order at Starbucks?
A small mocha frappe—and they tell me it’s Tall, not small.

2. What's one thing in your closet that you cannot live without?
My belts. Without them I’d get arrested on the subway.

3. What's one thing that most people probably wouldn't know about you?
I have over-shared to such an extent, at first I couldn’t think of anything. Then I realized it was right under my nose—and chin. I have a beard and moustache at the moment. The first time I grew the combo, it was to hide a baby face…then I realized I really don't like shaving. But it's time to be clean-shaven again.

4. Name one thing that you want to do before you die.
I hope to one day hold the world record for being the oldest active driver ever. Watch out America!!! And I'd like to visit Ireland and Germany, the lands of my ancestors.

5. What's one food that you cannot live without?
There are lots of foods I really like, but none that I eat everyday or would be upset if I couldn't have again. Unless strawberry shortcake counts, I would really miss that--but I don't have it very often.

6. What quote/phrase do you live your life by?
In brightest day, in darkest night, no evil shall escape my sight! LOL, no, it would be more like be forgiving, because we all make mistakes (but don’t be a sucker: once is a mistake; twice is a lesson learned; thrice...well, don't be a sucker).

7. What do you like and dislike about the Blogger community?
I like that Blogger has allowed me to meet some wonderful people I never would have otherwise. Seriously, if you are reading this, what are the odds we would have met in real life??? What do I dislike? Spammers for sure. Also, I worry when blogger friends disappear suddenly and completely without warning. But what can you do???

8. What's your number one most listened to song on iTunes?
The song with the most number of plays in my iTunes folder is "In My Life" by the Beatles, but in the past week or so "Grenade" (Mars) and "Beyond the Sea" (Darin) have gotten a fair number of plays.

9. What kind of style would you define yourself as having?
Unchanging, comfortable.

10. Favorite number?
Six (but 4, 8, and 16 come close)

11. Two hobbies:
Many have come and gone: gaming; tennis; chess; learning about cigars, about wines, about old coins; target shooting (not hunting); fishing; bowling; and avoiding golf (one round was enough). Recently, blogging and filling the role of family patriarch for my elder siblings have been my main hobbies.

12: Two pet peeves:
Rude, mean people and ignorance--I borrowed these from Meibelle, They are my top two as well. At the moment I feel like I could list 10. Fun at work has left me feeling particularly peevish.

13: Guilty pleasures:
Air conditioning and sleeping late--it's nice to enjoy both at once.

I'm going to copy Meibelle again--I tag all of you to complete the lucky 13 questions tag.

An Outfit Post

2011-07-09T21:45:00.000-07:00

Haha, no, it's not what you think.

During a visit to Krissy's blog (back in January), it occurred to me that the most important component of any outfit is the person wearing it. As long as you're happy and comfortable (and clothed), that's all that matters. I've read that "clothes make the man", but I think it's the other way around--the person makes the clothes.

And speaking of making clothes, if you can sew even a little, you have my respect...and perhaps a little envy too! The most I can do is put in a few stitches to close small rips in seams (so the seamstress at the local cleaners gets my business). I remember threading needles for my mom when I was little--she was pretty handy (but could NOT thread a needle). After watching her I decided I could sew too. I sewed closed holes in my socks (it was hard to get them on after my "repairs"), fixed seams in my pants (it looked like I had added a fringe), and replaced buttons (who knew you were supposed to leave room between the shirt and the button???).

Hope you're enjoying the weekend!

Ps - We went to an amazing esate sale today at an actual estate called Evermay. It was pretty cool. We spent too much, but most of what we bought will be re-sold on Ebay--at least that was the justification at the time. =)

Father's Day Gift

2011-07-01T16:10:00.000-07:00

About two weeks before Father's Day, my wife learned that her office is going to merge with another branch--at the other branch's location (if you're a fan of the Office, think Stamford going to Scranton). It had her a little down, wondering if the company will keep both her and her counter-part in the other office, if some of her friends will quit, if a single office can really operate with two managers. Well, it had her more than a little down.

Then the Saturday before Father's Day we went to an estate sale. She saw a curio cabinet that she absolutely loved--it was something she'd always wanted. So I decided to buy it for "myself" for Father's Day. Hey, I like nice things. It can be the showcase for the urn with my ashes in it--in about 80 or 90 years. ;P

Anyway, I had it delivered that evening and she set about cleaning it and placing some of her treasures inside. When she was done (for the moment, at least), she made me close my eyes so she could lead me into the living room to see it. When I opened my eyes, what I saw was the excitement of a little girl on Christmas morning (as she pulled her heart's desire out of its wrapping). Seeing that was a pretty wonderful Father's Day present for me.

In a week or a month (or maybe it already happened) I'll say or do something dumb and the goodwill from the cabinet will be gone. But I'll still have the memory of the moment when I opened my eyes that Saturday. =)

Happy Canada Day to my Canadian friends and Happy Independence Day (in advance) to those of you in the US!!

PS - The picture is from the estate sale. Those aren't my wife's things inside.

Remote Logic

2011-06-27T16:22:00.000-07:00

I still can’t remember the subject of that funny post I had planned before I got side-tracked on the topic of spammers. But I overheard a conversation over the weekend that I’d like to share. It’s about dealing with the remote controls that operate our favorite gizmos.

From my wife's half of the conversation, I learned that my sister-in-law is setting up a special area for her husband to watch TV/DVDs. It’s small, which is good because he can’t figure out how to use remote controls—she’s getting him a TV and DVR with easily workable manual controls. According to her, every time he touches a remote he breaks it and messes up the TV/DVR. As a result, they spend a lot of time (and money) with the Geek Squad. Then the conversation became almost unbelievable.

“You paid the geeky boys $120 for fix your remote?” “What was wrong with it?” “What do you mean you don’t know?” “What did they do to fix it?” “Were the batteries dead?” “You don’t know if your remote takes batteries?” “Next time your remote acts up, try changing the batteries yourself.” “Turn it over.” “If you replace them one at a time you won’t lose the settings.” “You CAN do it!” “Yes you can!!!” ***sigh***

Apparently no one in their house is good with remotes. I would help them, but they live 2.5 hours away. They’re on their own!

Okay, the reason for this post is to share that tidbit about changing the batteries in your remotes. Many remotes lose their settings if you take out both batteries at the same time. But if you replace one first and then the other, it saves the settings—and a lot of aggravation. Who can remember all the special codes needed to work their Gramophone, Victrola, and television set??? ;P

PS – I apologize if this bit of advice is insulting. But everyone has different skill sets and after hearing that conversation I thought it couldn’t hurt to share.

Old Friends

2011-06-24T13:23:00.000-07:00

When my wife and I arrived at our 10-year high school reunion, we almost immediately bumped into a girl I'd gone out with a few times (3, maybe 4) back in school. She was there alone. We chatted for a minute and then moved on.

At the end of the night, my wife shared something she'd learned during the evening. My old acquaintance came alone (despite a good-sized ring) because she was in a same-sex relationship and was worried how people would react.

I had mixed feelings. I was glad she found someone, but sorry she didn't feel comfortable with who she is and who she loves. That's got to be a hard way to live. I resolved that when our paths crossed next I would invite her and her partner out to dinner.

About a month later, I received an envelope from the class reunion committee. It contained a little booklet that listed whatever life updates the attendees felt like sharing. The girl had written something. She shared that she had recently married and was adjusting to life with her new husband and step-daughter.

My wife had pranked me!!! It was so out of character, I never suspected a thing. It turns out she'd carried a grudge about those few dates. When I asked her about it, she gave me a little grin, an innocent look, and said, "Oh, did I say that? I don't remember." Why are innocent looks so seldom innocent??? LOL!

Have a great weekend!!!

Spammers

2011-06-20T16:02:00.000-07:00

I had a very, very funny post planned for today, but over the weekend I found myself thinking about spammers and their ineffectiveness. Now I’ve forgotten the subject of that blockbuster post. =) There are different approaches to spamming. If someone is openly and honestly promoting their site, I understand that. I might not like it, but I understand. This post is about two other approaches.

On a regular basis people put phony messages in my CBox (to the left). Most of the time you can see the name/link leads to a commercial site just by rolling the cursor over it. But on a few occasions (in the early stages) I actually clicked on a link or two. How do you think I felt upon arriving at the unexpected website? Was I: 1) Thrilled and eager to spend money? 2) Curious about what the site had for sale? Or 3) Ticked off?

If you guessed anything but #3, we’re very different. I wouldn’t visit that site again if they were giving away free passes to Disneyland. To me, once a site resorts to tricking people into visiting, whatever they sell is garbage (even if it’s genuine LV).

But another type of spamming phony motivated me to write this post. The self-promoting comment variety—the type that is supposed to make you think they read your post and like your blog, but neither is true. Over the weekend I read a very touching post a girl wrote about a friend who had just died. The first two comments to the post read: “Very prolific and appropriate. Not only is it Fashion Friday tomorrow, but my fabulous giveaway ends! Hope you can link up and enter to win! Have a great night sweetie! Kori xoxo” She also listed links to her two blogs—since that was the whole point of her cut and paste comment.

How does ticking off people or making themselves look like idiots help the spammer? Don’t they accomplish the opposite of what they’re trying to do? Does anyone like spam? Why do they keep doing it? Am I asking too many questions???

Any spammers (of the phony variety) out there care to enlighten me as to why you want to be viewed with contempt?

Happy Father's Day

2011-06-18T21:25:00.000-07:00

Dad, Happy Father’s Day! Thanks for the lessons, intended and otherwise. Sometimes I learned best from the “otherwise”. ;P

Since my dad is gone, I took my two older brothers out to dinner Saturday night. My dad taught me a lot, some of it useful, some obscure and some…bizarre. He taught me:

--it’s important to stand up for others and what’s right
--how to tighten a loose wood screw by placing a small, rolled up wad of paper in the hole
--how to walk quietly (especially important when he was sleeping)
--how to swim quietly (in case I ever needed to take out an enemy machine gun nest by swimming across a river and circling behind it—also, see “walk quietly”)
--don’t grab a spark plug wire while a car is running (it could kill you)
--in the woods, rabbits run in half-circles when making their escape
--how to protect yourself from a large, attacking dog

That last one startled my wife when I shared the story. When I was around 12, there was a nasty German Shepard terrorizing the neighborhood. If you faced him, you were fine. But if your back was turned, you were in trouble. Many nights I heard him run up behind me in the dark as I walked home from helping my grandmother close her store. I learned the best way make him back off was to move aggressively towards him and throw rocks. I think I even growled a time or two (to hide my fear). One night my older brother and I waited on our back porch for our mom’s ceramics class (at a neighbor’s house) to end so we could walk her home. He had a baseball bat. My dad asked what we were doing and then proceeded to tell us that using a bat on the dog would be wrong—the dog would be too quick! He shared a better way for us to protect ourselves. His advice was to crouch a little, so the dog would go for our throats (I kid you not). Then when the dog jumped at you, you were supposed to jam your forearm deeply into his mouth (so he couldn’t get a good bite); bring your other arm up behind his neck, and then **snap**.

We got our mom home safely that night—and thankfully I have no idea if my dad’s advice would work or not. He lost me at, “get him to go for your throat.” LOL! Maybe I'm a bad father, but when I imagined myself passing on that advice to my kids, I just laughed and laughed. I haven't made them eat liver either. ;P

Now there were many, many, many other things (mostly good) that I learned from my dad and I’m almost positive that was a strangest. But only almost positive. What’s the weirdest thing you learned from a parent???

Mr. Fluffy (Pt 1)

2011-06-16T15:20:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, my children wanted a cat. I love cats, so I was happy to oblige them. A friend’s cat had kittens and we selected the cutest little fur ball to take home. I’d had lots of cats when I was growing up. But we lived indoors and they lived outdoors. We made sure they had food, water and shelter and they rewarded us by occasionally leaving gifts at our back door. I blogged about the night I accidentally stepped on one of the gifts, while barefoot—it was gross.

But we don’t live in the country like my parents did. So my kids’ cat lived inside, with us. At first it was strange having an animal roaming around INSIDE my house. That’s when I discovered I’m very allergic to cats. But Mr. Fluffy was a good cat—a little eccentric, but a good cat. I say eccentric because he liked water, but seemed to be ashamed of that fact. He was a Maine Coon cat (with a big “M” on his forehead—formed by the stripes in his fur).

We kept Fluffy’s food and water in our laundry room and, when necessary, we closed the door to keep him in there. When we did that, I could hear the sound of water splashing. Whenever I opened the door to see what was going on, the cat would just be sitting there, looking innocent. Then he would look over at me as if to say, “Oh, I didn’t see you there. I’m just sitting here doing nothing.” Once I caught him hunkered over and looking back, as if he was about to do something illegal and worried about getting caught.

The splashing noise kept happening and I got more curious. I started trying to sneak up on the cat. With his hearing, it wasn’t easy. A few weeks later I’d I honed my ninja skills well enough that I actually caught Fluffy making the noise. He was doing a happy dance with his front paws IN his water dish. When I let him hear me, he immediately stopped—and looked terribly guilty. It was as if playing in the water was the kitty equivalent of smoking a joint. The entire time we had Fluffy, he never once played in his water in front of us. Weird cat!

In Part II, I’ll explain how that free cat turned out to be the most expensive one I’ve ever owned and also an example of my daughter’s ability to manipulate me.

PS – I shouldn’t say the cat was weird. Since I spent time trying to catch him playing in his water, I really don’t have room to talk.

Given the slip

2011-06-13T17:26:00.000-07:00

Somehow, some way, my wife (K) ended up in possession of a slip that had belonged to my mom. It seemed weird to me. But then, my dad went through a phase in which he kept sending me old (used) socks he no longer wanted. Maybe the gift of something old is supposed to make it new again. If so, it didn't work with the slip (or the socks).

When my great-uncle passed away, K wore the slip under her dress when we went to the funeral home to pay our respects. He'd led a long, healthy life and passed quietly in his sleep. It was not the most somber gathering, but appropriately reserved and low-key.

During a group visit to the ladies room, K mentioned to 2 of my aunts that she was wearing my mom's hand-me-down slip (the 3 of them get along very well). Anyway, K finished first and said she was heading towards the kneeler next to the casket to say a prayer and then we'd probably leave. The aunts asked her to wait so they could go up together. K agreed to wait for them at the entrance to the parlor (if that's what it's called).

The aunts walked up just in time to see the slip fall down around my wife's ankles. One of them quickly picked it up (and hid it in her purse) while the other one whispered, "If you hadn't waited for us, that would have happened right next to the casket." While K turned a deep red, my aunts started howling with laughter in a way rarely heard inside a funeral home. Later they joked that my mom's spirit had pulled it down as a way of saying hello (but the elastic was shot). As far as I know, the aunts never admitted to anyone else what they were laughing about that evening.

PS: Do they even still make slips? My wife has dragged me through the ladies section in Macy's many times...and I can tell you they have 1,292 tiles in the ceiling over that section, but I have no idea if they sell slips.

While we've got you here...

2011-06-10T11:16:00.001-07:00

I'm never going to see a doctor "just in case" ever again!!! Okay, I will, but no time soon. As the ER doctor suggested after my kidney stone experience, I followed-up with a visit to a urologist today "just in case". They needed various fluid samples for testing and the nurse who drew the blood had a really hard time. She poked that needle around in my arm over and over and over. But I didn't mind, it didn't hurt...much. Soon the doc came in the room, told me I was stone free and had nothing to worry about. He did suggest drinking more water and avoiding tea, coffee, salt and red meat--a standard recommendation. Then it happened (and I was wishing to be poked with the needle again instead).

I had started thinking about where to have lunch, but then the doctor asked a completely unrelated question. One men don't like hearing. "When was your last prostate exam?" I swear I could hear the shower scene music from "Psycho". I considered bolting for the door, but there was a nurse between me and freedom. I controlled the fight or flight instinct and answered honestly--"I've never had the exam" and I asked the doc, "But can't we just be friends and only do the blood test???" He chuckled and said it was important to do the physical exam too. I knew he was right. My dad had prostate cancer, so it was irresponsible of me to not have ever had the exam. I'm responsible about everything else. Couldn't I just be irresponsible about this???

I knew what I had to do--I shoved the nurse and ran. LOL, no, I had the exam. It was unpleasant, but at least now I know I'm 100% healthy in that regard.

So the moral to this story is that to protect our health, we sometimes have to do things we'd rather avoid...women probably more so than men. But it's important to take care of yourself--and I mean YOU!!! If you've been putting off a check-up of one sort or another, call and make the appointment today. If you don't take care of yourselves, who will read my dumb stories? Hahaha, that's right...don't do it for yourself or your loved ones, do it for ME!!! ;P

Have a great weekend everyone!

Big Friday Night

2011-06-07T13:52:00.000-07:00

I had a really exciting time Friday night. I'd been working long hours the past few weeks and planned a quiet evening at home with carryout and an early bedtime. But the night went in a different direction. For the first time in my life, I said, "I need to go to the hospital!!!" I said it was an exciting night, I didn't say it was fun. LOL!!! And since I'm writing this, there's no way I can keep you in suspense--I'm perfectly fine.

My stomach hurt Friday, but nothing serious. When I got home it was a little worse and by 10pm it felt like something on my left side was about to burst. Had my spleen turned against me? The pain expanded, running from the middle of my ribs on the left side down through my groin. Then I discovered I had (TMI Alert) blood in my urine--a lot. I didn't want to panic. So I played Bejeweled, hoping the pain would end. It got worse. Finally at 11:30 I decided I had toughed it out long enough. That's when I asked my wife to take me to the hospital. That was hard--I'm the guy who takes other people to the hospital. I've never needed that kind of help. The ride was miserable. Like a dog riding in the front seat, I leaned my head against the window—and occasionally out the window.

The ER admission process was almost unbearable, but then I got to lie down and the pain eased a little. Eventually a doctor came by, pressed on my abdomen (ouch) and moved me to a chair. He ordered blood work and that a stint be put in my hand. I was also scheduled for a CAT scan. The unbearable pain returned after the doc moved me. Not all, but most of the ER nurses were annoying. I was in horrible pain, wondering would I hurl or pass out first, and four of them were hooting, hollering and generally being loud and obnoxious about something. I was NOT glad they were having fun. I know, I'm being petty. Don't care!!!

Anyway, at 2:30 a nurse put the stint in and took blood out. Then she led me to a small private room in the ER ward. It was nice to be away from the hub-bub, but the pain persisted. Then an angel gave me a shot for the pain—I love that nurse! The shot worked so quickly I thought it was my imagination. When I mentioned that, the nurse chuckled and said, “Well, I did just put a narcotic directly into your bloodstream.” It was nice—so very, very nice.

At 3:40 an orderly rolled me to the CAT scan. It was fun getting to ride on the gurney—but maybe it seemed so fun due to the drugs. The friendly CAT scan operator said he thought I had a cyst on my kidney. I didn’t like the sound of that. But at 5am the ER doctor came back and said I'd had a kidney stone (no cyst), but had passed it already. Woo-hoo! I jumped up to leave, but the doc sent me to a 24-hour pharmacy for pain meds just in case. My wife had managed to sleep some during the night, but was really groggy when we left the hospital. So I drove home. I was ready—it had been at least 2 hours since I’d gotten that lovely shot. I'll be seeing a urologist on Friday, just as a precaution.

Interesting footnote: According to the nurses, I experienced a pain similar to childbirth. So the jokes are true—our species would not survive if men had to give birth. ;P

Prom Season?

2011-06-04T09:39:00.000-07:00

Is it coming up? Did I miss it? I haven't seen any young couples in formal wear crowding local restaurants or cruising through town in rented limos. When I see them each year, I find myself remembering my own prom--and how much it cost.

I didn't rent a limo, instead I borrowed my SIL's sports car. My brother agreed because he owed me money (a good topic for a future post). The extra expense involved my date's dress. She couldn't afford one. But I knew she really wanted to go, so I offered to buy her a dress. We went shopping and she found a pretty yellow one. Two days later she told me she went shopping with her mom and found the PERFECT dress. It was peach. She planned to return the yellow one, but needed cash right away to buy the new one. I gave her money for the 2nd dress to make the logistics a little easier--she returned the first dress the next weekend.

She looked great in her new dress and we had a wonderful time at the prom.

Five years later I saw a group of kids coming out of a restaurant and piling into a shared limo. As usual that prompted fond memories of my prom and put a smile on my face. Then I remembered a minor detail about my event. I never got back the money for the dress my date returned!!!

Oh well, there was no point in trying to collect at that point--since we had just celebrated our 2nd wedding anniversary.

I hope late spring is being kind to all of you and giving you reasons to smile too.

PS - My next post is going to be about the very exciting Friday night I just had. I can't decide whether to share it with my brother or not. He'd be so jealous. The night I had was something he's wanted for so long, but can't quite manage. I don't want him to think I'm lording it over him. =)

Season of Regret

2011-05-30T21:38:00.000-07:00

"Regret: To feel sorry, disappointed, or distressed about something that one wishes could be different." I don't have many regrets, but I guess everyone with a conscience and a memory has some. Memorial Day brings one to the surface. Today I'm thinking about a few. This isn't a sad post, just a reflective one. I haven't lost my positive outlook! =)

The first one is a faint memory, one of my earliest. I was only 5 or 6 and hadn't started school yet. My mom and I went to visit her sister. While they talked in the kitchen, I went into their living room and sat on the floor to read a book. From where I sat, I could see part of my cousin's bed in her room. She was in her late teens and had a disability. I still don't know what it was. She couldn't do anything for herself and couldn't speak clearly. Adults talked in code about it. Anyway, she must have heard me turning the pages of the book because she sat up and startled me--and stared at me. The world seemed to stop the moment we made eye contact. Something about her hair and face resembled the girl in the Exorcist. I ran away--afraid. I never saw her again. She died when I was 13. At her wake I heard people talk about how lonely she'd been, spending most of her time in her room with no one to talk to except her mom and 2 siblings (when they were home). When I heard that I thought back to that day. She probably wanted me to come into her room that morning, maybe read the book to her. Instead I ran away. I'm kind of ashamed of that. Yeah, I know I was tiny, but still I wish I had reacted differently.

The second one is short. I want to apologize to the people who read my "Mikey" blog. When I started it, I said I was trying my hand at fiction. But like all of the stories here, they are all true stories about my life. I said it was fiction because I didn't want my blog friends to feel obligated to read it. That was probably for the best because I also need to apologize for the writing being so bad (so bad even my wife didn't read them--LOL). The first chapter or two were okay, but it went downhill quickly. I think I do better when I can see an odd twist or something funny in an experience. I couldn't find a twist for those stories. Someone asked why I used the name "Mikey". It was simply that Mike and Mikey made good substitutes for Rick and Ricky.

The last regret is the one tied to Memorial Day. When I was 25, my office sent me on a trip during the last week in May. I planned to combine the trip with a vacation, so my wife and daughter were with me. I finished my work on the Friday before Memorial Day and was looking forward to time off--and visiting with my wife's relatives. She called my mom Friday afternoon to see how things were going. My mom complained about a headache. That was normal, she always complained about one ailment or another. Always. When my wife offered me the phone, I said no thanks. I was tired and didn't want to hear the complaining, so I told my wife I would talk to my mom when we got back. After playing bingo with her friends that night, my mom suffered a subarachnoid hemorrhage (from a brain aneurysm). It's a long story, but the bottom line is I never got another chance to talk to my mom. Officially, she died on Memorial Day. My mom nearly died when I was born and again when I was 6, so I was very lucky to have her with me until I was 25. I wish I'd remembered that when my wife offered me the phone that day. I realize I am being as subtle as a brick, but if you haven't spoken with a loved one in a while, maybe now would be a good time.

Regrets....things we wish we'd done differently. History can't be changed. The important thing is to learn something from them and not obsess over them (for too long). If someone offered to brainwash me so that I would forget all of my regrets, I would say no. Those experiences are part of who I am. Hopefully they help guide me in positive ways. As a great Canadian once said, "We need our regrets, our guilt. They're part of what makes us who we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves." William Shatner (as Capt. Kirk) was very wise. =)

PS - While I'm at it, I should apologize to my kids for embarrassing them on Sunday. As we sat in a restaurant I quietly sang along with a song lyric playing in the background. It was, "Shawty fire burning, fire burning, on the dance floor." I'm pretty sure only they could hear me and the looks on their faces were priceless. LOL, okay, this one is not a regret, I'd do it again. They make it too much fun for me. ("Daaa-ad!!!")

Vote for Kym (and see her happy dance)

2011-05-27T08:13:00.000-07:00

At the risk of drawing your attention from that riveting post on my jewelry and neck size, I want to encourage you to take a few moments to vote for Kym. She can explain it better than I can, so I copied everything below from her FB. If you need more motivation, see the line in yellow! I'm hoping her video will include the Hampster Dance music. :D

Vote for Kym @ the Urban Culture Conference

Hi everyone! For those of you who don't know, I have my own clothing line HERRO HACHI and i'm in the running for an award at the Urban Culture Conference here in Vancouver. I would really appreciate your votes!!

It'll only take 30 seconds:
1) Go to http://www.urbancultureconference.com/
2) Scroll to the bottom where it says "VOTE ON THE BEST OF VANCOUVER"
3) Select "STYLE"
4) Select "APPAREL BRAND"
5) Vote for me "HERRO HACHI"

** you can vote once per IP address (work computer, home computer, iphones, etc) **

If i win, i vow to video tape myself dancing in the middle of a busy street wearing the cow costume you see in the profile picture. yes, it even has udders. ;)

THANK YOU IN ADVANCE!

My Accessories

2011-05-25T21:22:00.000-07:00

This will probably be as close as I come to a fashion post (but you never know). The chain and cross you see in the pictures are the only items I wear at all times. I never take them off. Well, almost never. They have to come off for x-rays or MRI's (and to take these pictures), but other than that, always on. It's hard to explain why. I'm certainly not a very good Catholic. I haven't worked an Aswang into a post lately, so I could say I wear it to keep Aswangs away--and that it's doing an amazing job! But the truth is simply that I find comfort in it.

The real story is about what I learned in getting the chain and cross.

When I was 19 my GF knew I wanted a cross and gave me one with a chain for Christmas. But the chain was too small. So we went to the jewelry store to exchange it. When I told the clerk my GF had asked to buy a man's chain to go with the cross, he responded, "Young man, an 18 inch chain IS a man's size." I was shocked. What was a normal neck size? But that shock didn't keep me from hearing the condescension in his tone. We got her money back for both items.

Thanks to genetics, too much "toting that barge and lifting that bale" during my childhood, and an unfortunate dose of gamma radiation (nerdy comic book reference), I have a 19 inch neck. It does its job nicely! ;P

Anyway, a few weeks later I bought myself this cross and 24 inch chain. It's long enough that it doesn't show--as long as I keep my 2nd shirt button buttoned (which I do). The cross is not for show, it's for me.

This post was inspired by Lei of the White Sky Project. She wrote, "Quick! Pop quiz! Who has a more massive neck - The Rock or Thor?"

Or Ricademus??? LOL, no way! Those guys are definitely "more massive".

PS - The pictures are misleading--the chain is very thin and the cross is small.

What did she say?

2011-05-20T07:48:00.000-07:00

This short post is my last related to Panama (for now). One night we went to an Italian restaurant for something different. I ordered calimari and a small pizza--the "chica" size. Both were excellent.

Since my boss speaks Spanish, she did a lot of interpreting for me. That night was no different. I've mentioned how bad I am with languages, right? Well, to order I simply pointed at what I wanted on the menu. When the waitress asked a question I immediately looked at my boss. She told me the girl asked what I wanted to drink. I ordered a Coke. Then the waitress asked another question and again I looked to my boss (I think it was a reflex at that point), who laughed and said, "Come on Rick, all she said was 'Pepsi' in the form of a question." She must be a Jeopardy fan.

Anyway, if the waitress talked about us later, she probably said our group included one guy who ordered in Italian, one lady who ordered in Spanish, and one guy who didn't know what Pepsi was. LOL

Have a great weekend!

PS - My next post may be my first fashion-related entry...sort of. =)

That's not me--Panama edition

2011-05-16T20:51:00.000-07:00

A few odd things happened in Panama. The strangest was a recurring case of mistaken identity, one I'd forgotten to blog about. When I returned to my room Tuesday evening I found an invitation in my room from the Embassy of Paraguay--to attend a reception celebrating their bicentennial. The reception was the next day in the hotel, so I assumed all guests were invited. At dinner later with my co-workers, I asked if they wanted to attend the reception.

They had no idea what I was talking about. They were not invited.

After dinner I checked with the hotel and I was the only guest invited to the reception. The Embassy invited me. I don't know how they knew I was there, but this has happened before. They thought I was someone else. There is a fellow out there with my name (but different spelling) who is involved in international relations. I passed on the reception. While the mistaken identity started out as fun a few years ago, it got to be annoying.

First (a few years ago) I received a holiday card from a Saudi ambassador. I didn't know why. Then I got invited to a reception for the German ambassador at the US Capitol building. Still I didn't know why. But I went and had a great time--they had amazing food. I spoke with the ambassador for a few minutes and the place was crawling with Senators, but no one I'd voted for. Then I started getting phone calls from TV and radio stations wanting to interview me--I thought they meant it was a survey of some sort and I kept hanging up on them. There were more cards and more receptions and it was all good fun. But the phone calls really got on my nerves--one girl in particular. Why did she care what I thought???

Then I got invited to something really cool. An after-party for the White House correspondent's dinner. My wife wanted to go with me and made me call to see if I could bring a guest. A few questions and answers later and the mistake was corrected--I was uninvited. There have been a few invitations since then, but nothing worth attending. But the calls continued--especially from that one girl.

Finally, instead of hanging up on her, I asked, "Why the heck do you care so much what I think???" She responded, "Well, you are the country's leading expert on 'Frackistan'!" I almost said we should nuke them back to the stone age. But I only thought about saying that--I didn't want to risk starting an international incident by teasing one reporter who didn't know how to spell her target's name...or that he lived in a different state. On the plus side, at least after that I knew why I was getting the invitations.

Somehow it never occurred to me to blog about that--until I got the invitation in Panama.

Hmm, did anything else happen in Panama that I could blog about? I can't remember at the moment--it's past my bedtime. Good night and thanks for stopping by! =)

PS - Originally, the mistaken identity started because a former boss insisted my name go into a Federal listing--even though I wasn't a Federal employee. The cards started coming to my office at first and later to my home.

Panama Jack? Not me

2011-05-14T21:29:00.000-07:00

I spent last week working in Panama--and getting tours of Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute research sites. It was great, except for the humidity. It was too humid. It was like Williamsburg, VA in August, but worse (it's the start of the rainy season). I got home from the airport around 11:30 Friday night, unpacked, showered, and went to straight to sleep. It was the end of a long week, with 6 flights, 3 boat rides, lots of walking and lots of food.

I don't have pictures of the food, but I have some pics from our ride in a canopy crane and should be getting pictures of other sites from my fellow travelers. I hope one of them got a good picture of the steps on Barro Colorado Island--the hillside was steep, the steps were many and the air was thick. But the air didn't bother the Howler monkeys, they were making a real racket when we arrived at the top. We also visited Bocas del Toro (up-and-coming eco-tourism hotspot), Gamboa, the Punta Culebra Nature Center, and Naos Island Laboratories.

In summary, the food winners were corvina ceviche (the fish, not the grape), mango, fried (whole) corvina w/garlic sauce, mango, yucca fries, pineapple, shrimp in coconut sauce, some sort of corn ball (for breakfast), mango, patacones (smashed and fried plantains), mango, and a green sauce called chimichurri (I brought home 2 bottles). I'm not a coffee drinker, but my companions said it was great.

The wildlife we saw included iguanas, sloths, sharks, sea turtles, raccoons, fiddler crabs, an assortment of colorful fish, frogs, and birds, and way too many bugs.

On my last night in Panama I won $400 in the hotel's casino. I needed to because I over-tipped like crazy for everything during the trip...because of the extreme poverty visable in the country-side, Bocas del Toro and much of Panama City. Panama is pouring billions into upgrading the canal (which will raise the water level and flood some of our buildings). I hope that generates sufficient return to allow the country to put more money into education and social programs.

A few pictures from the crane:

The crane itself (pic from their website):

The forest canopy:

An iguana in the canopy:

A sloth in the canopy:

Typhoid, Yellow Fever, Hepatitis A&B, Pertussis

2011-05-05T21:32:00.000-07:00

If I'm MIA for a while, I'll either be in Panama (working) or recovering from vaccinations for the diseases listed in the title. I'm not sure whether to be relieved or concerned that there is no vaccine for Dengue Fever. I also received anti-malarial medication--if you have any sort of chemical imbalance, this can cause "vivid nightmares". I can't wait to see if I'll have that experience or not.

I'm mostly joking about getting sick from the vaccines, but there was some question whether I could take the shots or not. I was on steriods recently for a bronchial infection and apparently that suppresses your immune system. If it were up to me I wouldn't have gotten them, but our company doctor was insistent.

You're all winners (Giveaway results)

2011-05-04T12:17:00.000-07:00

But only some of you have won Herro Hachi originals! The grand prize winner gets to choose any in-stock item from the Herro Hachi website and the runners-up may each select any t-shirt in-stock. In the event the winner is unable to fulfill her obligations, the first runner-up will reign in her place.

The scores have been tallied and the grand prize winner is...Robyn!!!

The four runners-up are: Megan; Nashe; Kristie; and Chaotic Cookie!!! Congratulations!

Remember the story about the soccer coach who really disliked my brother??? Ever since he wrote my name at the bottom of the team roster and then crossed it out, I have a soft spot in my heart for anyone at the bottom of a list. So I'm naming a 5th runner-up: Pop Champagne!!!

Please visit Herro Hachi soon to pick out your prize and e-mail your selection and mailing address to Kym (kym@herrohachi.com) as soon as possible. She's got a wedding to get ready for! =)

Thank you all for being here, I truly appreciate it--and thank you Kym for making this so easy. If anyone is interested, the full results appear below. So close Roma!!!

0.117313150 dolce la robyn said...
0.136326182 Megan said...
0.156987213 Nashe said...
0.170812098 kristieinbc said...
0.188604389 CHAOTIC COOKIE said...

0.201269570 Roma Agsalud said...
0.227851192 coffretgorge said...
0.355937376 Jo said...
0.424115726 REINA said...
0.440534684 MeiBelle said...
0.521958068 Karen said...
0.534958953 Wenny said...
0.555619984 teJan said...
0.59663686 Thanh Thao said...
0.610950041 Lei said...
0.758323923 Rena said...
0.79894406 London's-beauty said...
0.926450392 krissy ♥ said...
0.965056307 Kym said...
0.996276742 Pop Champagne said...

PS - I used the random number generator in Excel to assign everyone a number and then sorted the list by the numbers. How else would an accountant do it??? Also, Kym didn't really enter. She joked about it and I thought it would be fun to see where fate would place an entry for her.

“I can’t leave you alone anywhere”

2011-05-02T15:58:00.000-07:00

That’s what my wife said to me on Saturday. After a morning of chores, we visited an antique fair to check out the merchandise. I saw a beautiful corner cabinet. But, sadly, we have no empty corner to place it in. As we drove away empty-handed, she spotted friends having a yard sale. She asked me to stop, but for me to stay in the car—as her excuse for not staying long. I dropped her off then pulled down the street into a shaded parking spot.

As I sat there enjoying myself (I had great company, right? LOL), I noticed multiple sets of people coming and going. I wasn’t sure if I was witnessing a fundraising drive or perhaps religion going door-to-door. I made eye contact with one of the younger men and he decided to approach.

As I rolled down the window, four others joined us. It was religion. They were recruiting members for their Baptist church—if they had a high pressure spiel or wanted donations, they never got around to that. Their leader, an eloquent 30-something lady, said they wanted to offer a 10-second prayer for me. I asked them to pray instead for my son. It’s not that I’m beyond all hope, but he has a mild form of autism and I thought the prayer would be better directed his way—that he will someday have an easier time connecting to people and the world around him.

My wife walked up during the prayer, as I was holding hands with the lady and the young man. I could sense her amusement. Not about the prayer, about me talking to people. She thinks I’ll talk to anyone. As she got in the car she said, “I can’t leave you alone anywhere. Only you would find people to talk to when you’re sitting in a car!” I didn’t bother to point out they found me. She was having too much fun—reminiscing about the time I talked with 2 Jehovah’s Witnesses at our front door for an hour with a towel wrapped around my waist (I wanted to share info on Catholicism), the encyclopedia salesmen I gave sales advice (but no money), the German ambassador I gave encouragement (that’s a good subject for a separate post), and a few other instances.

As with the above examples, I’d estimate that 60% to 65% of my conversations with strangers are initiated by them—and not once have they offered me candy. (Yeah, I know that’s lame!!!)

So, do you talk with strangers??? Is that a change from the past? For me, it's funny to look back and remember in my youth my plan was to grow up to be a grumpy Mr. Wilson-type (from Dennis the Menace) and not talk to people.

Take a pill and...not THAT one!!!

2011-04-26T15:32:00.000-07:00

A few years ago our Border Collie had a seizure in our kitchen. We didn’t know what to do, so I draped a towel over his body and held him still until it passed. The vet prescribed an anti-seizure medication and Bandit has been fine ever since. He loves getting the pills because they are always embedded in something tasty. He runs to the kitchen when he hears the pill bottle rattle.

One morning in January my wife was up really early and decided to give Bandit his medicine. Usually our son handles that job. She sliced a little hunk of cheese, pushed the pill into it, and then…SHE ate it!

She was still half-asleep and a little chunk of cheese is one of her favorite snacks. She didn’t realize what she’d done until she wondered by Bandit was looking her that way (“where’s mine?”). Fortunately, an anti-seizure pill for a 35 pound dog doesn’t cause a human any real problem. The good folks at Poison Control said she might feel a little tired, but it was nothing to worry about—they also said this happens fairly often.

They were right.

Last week my wife was again up early and again decided to give Bandit his pill. She stuck it into a small piece of hot dog and actually gave it to him. The problem this time was that she put HER prescription into the treat, not Bandit’s. This was a BIG problem!

We had to get a little peroxide into his stomach to get him to “give back” the pill. That was followed by doses of Gaviscon and Pepto Bismal (seriously) and more guilt than I’ve ever seen—and I was raised Catholic!!! The family was all over Bandit. It was one of his happiest days. My wife even cooked a special chicken and rice dish for him to make sure his tummy was okay. Many of you know I was sick last week and you can bet I was pampered too--I was offered a burger from McD's (yuck). LOL!

The messages of this post are:
1) Vow that you will never take or dispense medication unless you are fully awake;
2) Never take prescription medicine that’s not yours; and
3) Don’t look for any pampering if an adorable pet is sick the same time you are. ;P

PS - This reminds me of an old line about not sharing a stage with a dog act or a child (because you'll be upstaged), but I don't remember how it goes.

Taking Offense (One Less Card to Send)

2011-04-24T21:22:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned that I used to have a page on MySpace? I did a little blogging, but mostly played Mafia Wars and stumbled across one or two great people, like Mel. I followed her here to Blogspot and Ricademus was born--so please forward any complaints to her. ;P

I visited my old page tonight to dig out the post below. I don't have writer's block (hope I didn't just jinx myself), but I was thinking about the story and wanted to share it.

************************
Aug 10, 2008
Taking Offense

I learned a good lesson a few years ago. I had worked too late and needed to rush to catch the last train of the night (11:30pm). I was walking as fast as I could on the empty street, mostly looking down and still thinking about my work. A half-yell startled me out of my thoughts and I looked up to see a woman running up the street towards the subway. I started looking around to see what danger she was running from. I saw nothing, I was the only person on the street.

Suddenly it hit me, the woman was running from me.

I was annoyed. She was safer with me on the street than she would have been alone. I got a little angry--for about 5 seconds. That's how long it took me to realize she did exactly the right thing. She didn't know me. She needed to do what she needed to do to feel safe. The woman running had nothing to do with me personally, it was just a reflection of the fact that there are too many men (but really just a small percentage) who behave in ways that give men in general a bad name. The same is true of women.

Who can you trust?

It's no fun to not be trusted, but unless the other person knows you REALLY well, you can't take it personally. People HAVE to follow their instincts and do what they need to do to feel safe. So if a stranger is wary of you, don't be offended. Just make sure you don't do anything to give someone a real reason not to trust you.
************************

In addition to not being offended, don't think badly of the person who backed away from you. Better safe than sorry works both ways. So, look at it as one less birthdate you'll ever need to learn/remember and one less card you'll have to send. LOL!!!

Happy Monday

PS - Don't miss your chance to win free Herro Hachi merchandise!!!

You CAN Touch This (Giveaway)

2011-04-20T09:13:00.000-07:00

Break it down. Stop, Herro Hachi time!
(Hey, it was either "Hammer" or "Howdy Doody" time)

In this case, what you can touch are shirts--and for one lucky winner, your choice of any item from Kym's Herro Hachi collection. Yep, it's Herro Hachi time.

If you want to participate, just leave a comment letting me know you're in. The giveaway is open to all of my current followers and the handful of regular commenters who so far have been too embarrassed to follow me publicly and have their tiny profile picture appear over there on the left. ;P

I'm always happy to get a new follower. But this giveaway is to show appreciation towards my bloggy buddies--for both visiting and making me feel welcome on your blogs. That's something I don't take for granted. This will come as a HUGE shock to you (*cough*), but I haven't been very well received by some bloggers. I know, shocking, right? (*cough, cough*) LOL, but I'm sure that happens to everyone at some point. You've all been blocked by one blogger or another, right? Right? Okay, probably not. It was a new experience for me this week. But I'm proud it only took two comments to make it happen. I didn't need a 3rd strike to be out on that blog. =)

Anyway, there will be multiple winners, so the odds are good that YOU will be one of them. Enter to show Kym how much you like her merchandise (and that she was wise to sponsor this event). When you win, I'll ask you to send your address directly to Kym and she will send out your prize.

The winners will be announced at the start of May, but the giveaway could close to new entries any second now. So go enter. Quickly!!!

PS - If I haven't commented on your blog lately, my excuse is that I've been sick (and busy harrassing that one blogger). I finished one antibiotic, but the bronchitis continues. So today I'm starting a new one along with steroids. Yuck!

Subway Tales I

2011-04-13T14:02:00.000-07:00

I ride the Washington subway every workday, twice a day (at least). It’s safe, but when you ride it so often, things are bound to happen once in a while. That’s true almost anywhere (even in a Canadian desert). But my commute does take me through a bad neighborhood. On occasion there’s a dangerous situation, or a funny situation, or just something that makes me think. I’d like to share 3 incidents—the 1st one dangerous and the next 2 (in another post) made me think. Here’s the first:

It’s not unusual to encounter kids alone on the subway; DC provides a subsidy to students to help lower the need for school buses. Plus, once in a while you’ll see a class on a field trip. More often, you’ll see kids on unofficial field trips—skipping school and using their subway subsidy to get around. One morning a group of 17 year-olds (my guess) boarded the train. 2 girls and 4 boys. You could see 2 of the boys were jockeying for position to see who would get to sit with the cute girl. She crossed them both up, she sat next to me. One of the young men sat across the aisle from her and the other guy sat two seats ahead of us, but turned around so he could talk to her. Mostly the two fellows talked trash to each other, competing to impress the pretty girl. They threatened each other with all sorts of violence.

Normally I close my eyes during the morning commute to clear my mind. But I learned from my brother there are times to keep your eyes open. That morning was one of them—although, my fellow commuters all had their eyes closed, pretending not to hear the escalating noise. I found myself trying to get a read on the kids. Were they good kids putting up a front to fit into their neighborhood or was violence a real possibility? Soon I was drawn into the mix.

I noticed the boy in front of us was staring at me as he stroked his chin. He was thinking. When I see someone staring at me, I automatically return the look. It just happens. After a few long moments, the boy said to his friends, “I think I’ll have to take him out too. He might be a witness.”

Fortunately (sadly??), I’ve been in similar situations before. I followed my instincts. I smiled at the young man as if I was the most relaxed person in the world and decided to surprise him. I said, “You probably will. I have a good memory and make a great witness.”

Before I could see his reaction, his friends erupted with hoots, pointing and laughter. He looked embarrassed. Since the ice was broken, I asked the girl next to me where they were headed on their “field trip”. She giggled and said they were going to the Zoo. I told her I love the Zoo and suggested they check out the cheetahs. But my embarrassed friend wasn’t done. In an angry tone he asked, “What do you mean ‘you love the zoo’??? Zoos are for kids you bum.” Feeling the confidence I had faked earlier, I laughed and responded, “How did you know? I quit my job yesterday so I could be a bum. You must be psychic!!!” His friends reacted even more strongly this time.

At that point we were pulling into my stop. So while they laughed and pointed, I excused myself to the young lady (so she’d stand up and I could exit my seat) and got off the train. I admit I did look over my shoulder once as I approached the escalators—just in case. But I was lucky. Either I dorked my way out of trouble or those kids had not become part of the violence they saw so often.

PS - A funny situation: One night I worked late and encountered a "bum" on the train. It had been weeks since he'd bathed or shaved. I felt bad for him, but at that moment he was happy. He was very drunk and explaining something he'd read in the paper. According to some study, there were 3 eligible women for every 1 eligible man in DC. He told me, "I likes them odds!!!"

Knowing eligible girls were out there made him so happy!

Don't Blame Me

2011-04-11T15:30:00.000-07:00

When my son was 10 months-old, my wife called to share an interesting story. She sounded a little down. She discovered something was already hard-wired into our little boy’s brain (and she didn't like it).

She had the kids in the grocery store—our son in the cart, with his sister standing guard. More than once she warned people to “don’t touch my baby brudder!” Such a good sister. =)

Anyway, a sweet, elderly woman (about 75) was completely captivated by the baby. She was smiling at him, coo’ing to him, trying her best to get his attention. At the same time, the 10 month-old was smiling, kicking his feet, and making sweet sounds himself. The little boy was doing everything he possibly could....to see past the nice elderly lady and get the attention of the (in my wife’s words) “hot young blond” standing next to her.

My son was 10 months old. Much to my wife’s disappointment, his reaction was not my fault (but she smacked me for it anyway). It was just nature at work.

Do I have a point? Yes. If you’re out and you notice your date, BF or spouse reacting to a pretty girl, I hope you’ll give him a good, hard smack on the arm!!! (Did you see that coming?) He should have more tack and self-control than a baby. His attention should be on you (as far as you know)—it’s not like we’re Neanderthals. Well, not most of us.

Oh, and if you see a little boy (any little boy) doing the same thing, hit your date, BF or spouse for that too. Why should I be the only one getting in trouble for what other people do??? ;P

PS – I reminded my wife of this story today (I wanted to confirm our son’s age at the time). She got mad all over again. She said something along the lines of, “What did you men do to my little boy???” I guess by “you men” she meant evolution. I can’t wait to see how she’ll react when he dates. I have a feeling then it will be, “Who do those girls think they are???” LOL!!!

Defend Your Castle (or Carry a Big Stick)

2011-04-07T14:53:00.000-07:00

“I was born, six-gun in my hand.” (Edit: from "Bad Company")

Actually, I was born with a veil, but that’s another story—and I do my best to be “good company”. This story involves guns, but it’s silly, not dark. I promise.

Where I grew up, guns were common. You didn’t see them, but you knew everyone’s parents had them. Owning a gun to defend your home & family was like owning a lawnmower to cut your grass—except the grass always grew and no one ever broke into our homes??? But, the dads were prepared (just in case). I did a post once about my dad’s SWAT maneuvers (it's one of my favorites). They were false alarms, but we were prepared. Well, he was prepared. My job was to draw the bad guys’ attention. Cue the SWAT music. ;P

This story is about the first time I thought someone was breaking into my very own house in the middle of the night. Having been raised to be prepared, I owned a gun and knew how to handle it safely (part of my upbringing). Yes, I was prepared.

One night I heard the sound of glass shattering and thought it was my basement door. Did I call the police? No! I was prepared. I grabbed my gun and went to investigate. I crept down the stairs to the main level and paused to listen. Nothing. So I opened the basement door and made my way to the bottom of the stairs. I was silent, like a ninja. Unfortunately the steps made a terrible racket (creak, creak, creak). Anyway, I stopped two steps from the bottom to once again listen for the sounds of an intruder. But I heard something else.

I heard a *PING* (like I had dropped something), followed by the sound of something rolling on the step beneath me. I didn’t have time to worry about it; I had to “sweep” the basement. Thankfully everything was fine—and the door intact. So I investigated the “ping”. I discovered a tiny piece of metal on the step. It was cylindrical and maybe a quarter of an inch long. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Then I recognized it.

It was the FIRING PIN from the gun. It broke off and fell out!! The one time I might have needed it, it didn't work. Without its firing pin, a gun is just an oddly shaped paper-weight. I felt like Barney Fife (with his one bullet stuck in his pocket).

I took that experience as a sign. I didn’t repair the gun. So now when I need to investigate a strange sound, I take the roller from our paper towel rack (see how sturdy it is--like a 20 inch shovel handle). The most excitement I’ve had with the roller involved the police. At 2am one night I heard a woman wailing her heart out down the street. I grabbed my trusty shillelagh and headed out to investigate. The police arrived in the woman’s yard at the same time I did. I was relieved at the timing, until the officer placed his hand near his gun and ordered me to “drop the weapon”. Geez!

Next time I hear a noise, I’m going to go back to sleep and trust Bandit to handle it.

PS – No I won’t. I’ll HAVE to investigate…I'm too curious. =)

Just my imagination...

2011-04-04T15:42:00.000-07:00

I don't like music videos. Well, that's not exactly right. I do like them when I watch them. My blog friends have recommended some terrific videos over the past year or so--and I hope you continue. But generally speaking, I prefer the pictures songs create in my mind versus what I see in videos. My imagination reflects what a song means to me, rather than what it means to someone else. It's personal.

Last month I shared with my wife what a particular song brought to mind for me. She told me I was wrong, because she'd seen the video and "that song is about a funeral." My interpretation was much more positive than the video.

Maybe it's like reading a book and then being disappointed when the movie version comes out.

PS - As noted above, my imagination is generally a pretty positive place. Not like Bender, the robot on Futurama. In one episode he talked in his sleep while dreaming. Repeatedly he said, "Kill all humans. Kill all humans." He woke up surrounded by his human friends and told them he'd just had "the most wonderful dream". Then, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, he informed them that, "You were there and you were there..." I can't believe they didn't disassemble him. =)

Salute to April and "April Love"

2011-03-30T14:03:00.000-07:00

April, a time when green returns to the northern hemisphere and some really great people have their birthdays, Krissy, Thanh Thao, Manju, Leah, Kay, and...? Ana's b-day just passed and Dana's is coming up at the start of May. If we were neighbors this could be a really expensive time of year. Happy b-day in advance!

Speaking of April, I watched "April Love" today. It stars Pat Boone--I was curious. If you're wondering "Pat who?", don't feel bad. I know him because my grandmother's friends used to say I reminded them of Pat Boone. We don't look alike. But, you see, he was considered a nice boy and when I lived with my grandma I gave the impression of being a nice boy too. Well, it was mostly true. =)

Anyway, in "April Love" he sings a song by the same name. I was shocked to find a video of the song (taken from the movie) on-line.

If you watch the video, try to figure out which girl he ends up with: the wholesome, not supposed to be flashy, blond; or the slighty more flashy, but still wholesome, blond. It was the '50's. LOL!

Edit: The video won't play. Here's the link.

Old Joke and a Question

2011-03-28T09:24:00.001-07:00

Patient: Doctor, I know I'm human, but honestly I feel like I'm a dog.

Doctor: How long have you felt that way?

Patient: Gosh, always, ever since I was a puppy!

Okay, now for the question. One of your loved ones has an itch on their shoulder blade that they just can't reach to scratch. The person sees your hair brush and gets an idea. When you walk in the room and see your hair brush being used as a back scratcher, do you:

A) offer to help scratch the itch;

B) smile and be glad the person found relief; or

C) tell the person he owes you a new brush???

Remember that your hair just might be the dirtiest part of your body at the end of the day, since it filters the air around you. Also remember that we're not talking about a hobo who has wandered into your home and misappropriated your hair brush. The person is a loved one.

Also, how did I do at writing an unbiased question/survey? I bet you can't tell what answer I'm hoping for. ;P

Annual Family Gathering

2011-03-27T13:01:00.000-07:00

I had brunch with my 5 siblings on Saturday. Have I mentioned I'm the youngest? Haha, I know, only about 12,000 times.

It wasn't so bad this year. Everyone was pleasant, there weren't even any little digs. I did feel some minor aggravation towards the sister who stayed at my house Friday night. She was in town from Buffalo. Oh, she told me people in Buffalo HATE Canadians! How could anyone hate Canadians? She doesn't, but she hears complaints like, "They drive too slow." Wow, Canadians enter a foreign country and obey the law. Bastards! .

Anyway, that particular sis is a little arrogant--not uncommon in our family. She's surprised when other people know anything and SHOCKED when they know things she does not. I wish I had a nickel for each time she's asked me, "How to YOU know that???" Then I could afford to move to Canada (;P). I've learned to be amused by her. Friday evening I told her that everyone knows things we don't--even 5 year-olds have probably picked up some piece of information that I've never come across, so it's important to listen to everyone. I hoped she would take it to heart. She didn't. But she shared a story about my father and I that made me look great. So she'll be welcome next time. By me. .

My wife may require some convincing. While I was showering Saturday morning, sis told my wife how badly her new husband's family behaved when her father-in-law passed away. She wished they could have been more civilized, "like we were". She couldn't remember whose idea it was, but recalled that we took turns selecting keepsakes. My wife got really annoyed and reminded her that the other two sisters had raided the house before our dad's funeral--taking jewelry and silver. She reminded her that's when I took over the process, forced them to return what they'd taken and put in place the system of taking turns. That didn't ring a bell with my sister, she just remembered it "going so smoothly" and refused to acknowledge I set up the selection process (oldest first, youngest last). To me, that rewriting of history is expected and amusing (humor everywhere, right?). To my wife, it's infuriating. It all happened just a few years ago!!! Sis may have to stay somewhere else next year. .

PS - My siblings get together every spring to discuss what we (I) did with our dad's estate. It's not much, but we (I) kept it together to take care of our step-mom. It's what he wanted. They didn't like it, but I guess they're getting used to it. This was the first gathering that didn't include a terrible argument. Progress! =)

Wing man??? Mayday! Mayday!

2011-03-22T15:45:00.000-07:00

I have dinner every once in a while with a single pal of mine. Every time he suggests instead of dinner, we should go to a bar so I can be his wingman. Every time I tell him, "No, I'm married!" But in truth, even if I were single I wouldn't do it. Don't get me wrong, I've helped friends--like the poem I wrote for a guy to pass off as his own, stuff like that. But I wouldn't be a wingman. Back when I was single (you know, 14 or 15 ;P), I had a few bad experiences.

Way back when, my friend Tom was going to see a girl and asked me to provide moral support. She had a friend visiting and the 4 of us talked in her living room. She and Tom left for awhile (they were in the kitchen with her mom). I chatted with the friend as we watched a movie. Within 20 minutes the pair returned and Tom and I left. The next time I saw our hostess, she said she was so glad her friend and I were a couple, she knew we would hit it off. I'd been set up and didn't know it! She got mad when I set her straight (not a couple)--and stayed mad! The friend wasn't upset, just the matchmaker. The next day when Tom and I got off the bus after baseball practice, we heard the girl yelling to us from her porch, "Hey, you two, I want to talk to you." I ignored her, so she kept yelling, "Rick! Rick, I want to talk to you." Tom thought I should go over--I told him no, I wasn't going to engage. When she realized I wasn't stopping she yelled, "That's right Rick, keep going. Just run away!!!" I didn't stop until I was home. We played out that same scene every afternoon for a week--with her adding more interesting profanity each day.

Around that same time, I received the fallout from having helped a friend almost a year earlier. Mark asked me to go to a baseball game with him. He was meeting a girl and wanted me along to talk with her friend. I did and we had a nice time. Later (almost a year later), as I was warming up in center field before a baseball game, I heard a girl yelling. I looked over and it was the girl Mark met at the game last year. She was yelling at ME...and using interesting profanity right from the start. She didn't need time to warm up like the other kid. She was quite emotional and convinced that somehow I had hurt her friend. In the face of her fury, I decided to move to right field to put some distance between us. As I meandered over there, I heard her yell, "That's right, just run away!"

Now, I like to think I'm not a coward. I didn't run from an armed nut on a strange Halloween night or the crazy truck driver who stalked me to the train station. I could deal with them. But those two teenage girls completely confused me and all I could think to do was walk away. All I'd done was talk to their friends in support of my friends. Why the anger that bordered on rage? Because of those two experiences, at the ripe old age of 15 I permanently retired from the role of wingman. I know that adults are much more rational than teenagers and hopefully I'm a little wiser now. But when given a chance to be an adult wingman, I think I'd rather take my chances facing a pack of angry wolves.

When it comes to being a wingman, this "coward" bails out! ;P

Edit: Please note that it was the friends who got upset, not the girls I talked to. I guess the friends wanted to palm those girls off on me. Story of my life, girls' friends and mothers always liked me more than the girls themselves--especially the mothers.

Humor Everywhere (almost)

2011-03-17T14:37:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's just me, but I think there's humor out there just waiting for us to see it. Today I was reading an article in the Washington Post about scandals facing DC's new mayor: nepotism; cronyism; violating the city’s salary ceiling; paying a 3rd candidate to politically attack the former mayor. It’s a sad situation. But as I read the article, I started laughing because of this sentence:

"Gray and Green have denied wrongdoing in the case of Brown's allegations"

Whatever it is Green may have done, I’m sure Blue and Yellow put her up to it! =)

Also, thanks for your comments on the post about my brother. For those who wondered, my wife is the only family member who visits my blog, but there was nothing in the post that hasn’t been discussed openly within our family. The post was the result of disappointment, I thought he was changing. My mistake. But it reminded me of something. When someone disappoints us, we need to step back and think about whether it happened because the person misled us or we misled ourselves, wanting the person to be something they are not. Just a thought.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

My Brother

2011-03-16T21:49:00.000-07:00

This a TMI, personal post. I have a story about my brother...and how he taught me to stay focused in the face of danger. He was the danger. I'm a little annoyed about it today because I just learned he tells the story as an example of something great he did. He laughs and is proud. Here's the story.

I was 12 and about to join my first little league baseball team. To prepare for that, my friends and I formed mini-teams to practice. We played in a rocky field next to the neighbor’s house across the street. The field had been the staging area when the house was built and there were lots of rocks and small pieces of cinderblock. You didn't dare slide during the games.

My 15 year-old brother was a real sports nut and often served as the umpire when his team wasn’t playing. During one of those games, the neighbor’s son hit a ground ball to me. It hit a rock and bounced away. For some reason, my brother went berserk that I didn’t catch it. He wasn't even on my team, he was the umpire!!! He ran over to me and started yelling. Then I made a big mistake.

Fights with that brother were common. He had a bad temper and you never knew what would set him off. I knew we were about to fight and thought, “here we go again". During the time it took for me to have that thought, I sighed and rolled mys eyes—for just a second. When I looked back, my brother had already reared back and was throwing the ball at my face as hard as he could. Since we were only 5 feet apart, I didn't have time to react. The ball hit me in the middle of the forehead and I dropped over backwards like a tree falling. I'm not sure what happened next. But apparently the neighbors (Mr. and Mrs. B) chased my brother off and helped me to my feet. He wasn't allowed to return—ever.

I thought maybe he told people the story as a form of confession, maybe he felt guilty. But his wife assured me that wasn't the case...he thinks it's one of the funniest things he's done. It was probably the hardest shot to the head I ever took from him....so, that's funny???

PS - A few years and many skirmishes later, I convinced that brother he shouldn't start trouble with me again. He remembered. When I was 16 I accidentally hit his car. Rather than starting a fight, he decided to run into the house instead. It took him a few more years and a trip to the hospital to learn he shouldn't start fights with strangers. My brother!

Penmanship Tag

2011-03-10T15:55:00.000-08:00

I remember clearly when my penmanship went off track. Our teacher was introducing us to cursive writing and the first few letters were easy. Aa, Bb, Cc--then I had to go to the nurse's office. By the time I got back to class they were doing "Uu" and I was lost. And the fact that my fine motor skills suck may have something to do with it too. Writing, drawing, or painting with precision are real challenges.

But a wonderful blogger, Krissy, tagged me to do this penmanship post. So, even though it highlights one of my most glaring weaknesses as a human being (chimps write better), below is a sample of my handwriting--read on and feel better about your own. ;P

Except for my signature, I don't use cursive--not since high school. The tag questions are:

1. What's your name/ Blogger name?
2. What's your blog's name/ URL?
3. Write "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog."
4. Favorite quote?
5. Favorite song?
6. Favorite bands/ singers?
7. Anything else you want to say?
8. Tag 3 - 6 people

I tag Lei, 我 MOI, kristieinbc, RML, MizzJ, and Reina. I don'tthink I've seen their handwriting yet! Many of my blogger friends have completed this tag already and gave great answers to #4. I've tried to avoid copying any of them--although, it certainly wouldn't look the same in my handwriting. Okay, here goes:

Lost Treasures II

2011-03-05T22:00:00.000-08:00

The day after I turned six, I received a great gift. It was a box of Tonka trucks. The aunt I'd lived with my first 6 months sent them via my grandmother. Her husband had an excavation business and the box included a dump truck, cement mixer, and a bulldozer with a backhoe. They were vintage toys that had never been used.

I'd never had such nice things, but I wanted to play with them. So I did. While my older siblings were at school (or work) during the week I'd take my trucks out to our "sand pile". I had a lot of fun working on imaginary projects. When I was done, I always rinsed them off under our outside spigot, dried them, and carefully placed them back into their box.

One day I went to get them, but couldn't find the box. I wondered if my dad had rearranged stuff in our basement and the box was somewhere else. I asked about the box at dinner and couldn't believe the answer. My dad had given the toys to a friend of his, as a gift for a newborn son. My prized possesions were gone. I couldn't speak, but the horror showed on my face. My father said, "You never played with them. They were just taking up space." Arrrgh!!!

Lesson learned--well, really, I didn't learn this lesson until much later, but the process took its first step that day. The lesson? People can't read my mind. I loved those toys, but no one knew it and I lost them. Don't let that happen to you, show your feelings, appreciation, etc.--and yes, now I'm talking about people, not the toys. Don't make those you care about wonder if you care at all. Who really cares about some old toys anyway. I mean, sure, they were shiny and perfect and I loved them and they were mine! How dare they...oops, got off track. What I want to say is they were just things. People are the real treasures.

PS - The bulldozer was a perfect shade of yellow. *sigh* ;P

To Birthmonth or Not To Birthmonth???

2011-02-28T12:54:00.000-08:00

I don't like to "borrow" post ideas from other bloggers, but there have been a few times when I had an idea already and a post by another blogger simply "inspired" me to follow through on my idea. However, this is NOT one of those times. I had never even heard of a "birthmonth" month long birthday celebration until I met Mayra. She introduced me to the term last year. My wife is a big fan of b-day week celebrations (for her's). But a whole month?

I have to decide today if I'm going to have a birthmonth celebration this year. My birthday is on 3/11. The entire month of March is 3/11 this year, so there will never be a better time--according to the Mayans, I probably won't make it to 2111.

Should I do it??? If I did, I'd have an answer to Kym's question regarding where I see myself in 5 years. I would see myself going broke in 5 years celebrating a "2/16" birthmonth for someone else. ;P I better skip my birthmonth celebration.

On another topic, a little while back QVC hostess MeiBelle of Beauty Is Not Caused tagged me with a Versatile Blogger Award. I usually shy away from celebs, but I'm glad we've gotten to be friends--she is really nice. The award rules say to share 7 things about yourself, so here are 7 factoids that hopefully I have not shared before--and that are not answers to my banking security questions. I'll make it all stuff from the 6th grade!

1. My teacher allowed me to skip French class to work on building the school's nature trail...in the woods...alone. He also let me mow his lawn once. Haha!
2. Started playing chess.
3. Was a Corporal in the school's safety patrol.
4. Exchanged letters with a girl whose family moved out of state--"letters" as in two. I thought about responding to her second letter, but in the end it seemed like too much work. There were trees to climb, forts to build, etc. When her family moved back a few years later, she acted like she didn't know me. LOL!
5. Put my time sitting in trees to good use, learned how to immitate the call of a Mourning Dove by clasping my hands together and blowing in at the thumbs. Honest!
6. A fellow student attacked me at my patrol post with the pointy end of a bottle opener. Why yes, I DID go to public school. There was NO danger. He just lunged and missed. I never found out what he had against me--if anything. The world is full of weirdos. Perhaps it was an initiation of some sort.
7. Attended a summer school math class just for fun. The class consisted of about eight 12 year-old boys. On a completely unrelated note, the teacher was very pretty--at least to 12 year-old boys. =)

PDA's and Being MIA

2011-02-25T15:06:00.000-08:00

Public Displays of Affection: In general, I'm a fan. It's sweet to see a couple holding hands and acting silly as they, let's say for example, tour a botanical garden. Or maybe they have their arms around each other as they walk, perhaps a very occasional peck. Cute! But I don't want to see people doing more than that in public and I don't want to hear sounds. One morning this week a couple with a baby sat in front of me on the subway--it was rush hour. After a stop or two of listening to them talk baby talk to their little one (9 months old maybe), the guy gave the girl a peck. Sweet. He backed off, then swooped in again and they started really kissing--there were sounds and open mouths, it was the real deal. Normally when I notice something like that, I'd say something along the lines of, "Hey, could I get a shot at him next???" But the baby being there kind of threw me off and I said nothing. Next time!!!

Being MIA: I haven't been on-line much lately. Thanks to a possible shutdown of the US government next week, we've been working like mad planning for it. Our buildings and collections have to be guarded even if we're shutdown and somene has to monitor building systems in the museums--improper temperatures or humidity is terrible for collections. So it has been a hectic time with long days. Maybe that's why the couple above annoyed me a little instead of amusing me. I'm tired! =)

Have a great weekend folks!

Privacy

2011-02-20T11:58:00.000-08:00

My employer requires us to complete an annual on-line security "test" to refresh memories about not sharing passwords or adding unauthorized software and to remind us that we cannot expect anything we do on our office PC to be considered private. Even personal e-mail, such as Gmail or Yahoo.

But often the warning goes unheeded. One jerk in our central accounting office was fired and arrested for material he downloaded and stored on his computer (that was justice). Last week a guy in my unit received a warning about e-mail attachments he's been forwarding. His defense was: 1) he'd been doing it for years (that admission got him a suspension); and 2) he was using a private e-mail account. Idiot.

Privacy has always been a risky thing to assume, even a few thousand years ago. Did Paul know his letter to the Corinthians would end up being so public? John's letters? Well, maybe they did. Matthew wrote something along the lines of, "until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will disappear."

That got me thinking about something silly. If future civilization declines into some sort of "Idiocracy", what if a future "idiocrate" stumbles across the ancient writings of Ricademus and mistakes it for religion? It's a scary thought--Ricolites (of the Western Orthodox Catholic Church) gathering for mass on Wednesdays, the Holy Hump Day.

"Today's gospel reading is a letter from Ricademus to the Canadians: Hi Canadians, I think you folks are amazing, but what's with the weird spellings? You add the letter "u" all over the place and invert other letters. It's very confusing. Let's simplify by establishing a North American Standard and stop using all those extra letters. All my best, Rick"

Then the priest will explain the real message was that we need to simplify our lives--and anyone caught using a "u" will be ex-communicated. ;P

Soooo, aside from being silly, the real point of this post is just a reminder that if we post something it will be floating out there somewhere, forever, and you don't know where it will end up.

Cartoon Moments

2011-02-16T10:05:00.000-08:00

Cartoon moments (like Wile E. Coyote's traps for the RoadRunner backfiring; Eek the Cat getting hurt even though "it never hurts to help"; or The Tick getting punched by Santa Clones) are always funny. It's animated slapstick, it looks painful, but no one really gets hurt.

I've had many cartoon moments. I've never been what I would consider seriously injured, never had a broken bone, never been hospitalized (knock on wood), but I've had cartoon moments. One in particular is on my mind today. When I was growing up it was not unusual for the mothers in my neighborhood to help each other when they heard one of their peers yelling for their kids to come home--they would join in and start yelling too. I like to think of it as a real-life version of the signal fires that went out from Gondor to Rohan in LOTR or the barking of messages by dogs in one Disney cartoon or another.

One summer evening as I walked in the woods near my parent's house, I could hear Mrs. B calling me. That meant my mom had been calling for a while, so I ran towards home. As I emerged from the woods I could see Mrs. B on her carport and she could see me. Just then, a 2-foot long board became attached to my foot--it looked like I was wearing a size 37 clown shoe. As I took another another few steps (I guess inertia carried me forward), I heard Mrs. B laughing at the ridiculous sight.

But then I hit the dirt. It's not easy to run with one clown shoe on. It's also not easy to run with a nail sticking through your foot--that's what attached the board to my foot. OMGosh that hurt. Someone had left a board with a huge nail sticking out of it laying in the weeds. It wasn't me. I listened when my dad warned us not to leave nails sticking out of boards--or at least face the nails downwards until you had time to remove them. But some kid in the neighborhood didn't get that message and I got stuck.

After I fell, Mrs. B came to check on me, then scooped me up and carried me home. That was embarassing, especially since the board was still attached. LOL! But I was fine. It was just one of those cartoon moments that looked funny at first, hurt like the dickens, and caused no real damage.

I don't know why, but I found myself thinking about Mrs. B and her hubby today. They were good neighbors and nice people. He's the one who called me Ricademus. I think he thought I was too serious, so he teased me once in a while. They moved in when I was 4. According to legend, when my family went over to introduce ourselves I tugged on Mr. B's pant leg and asked if I looked like him. When he asked why, I told him I was looking for my father. Boy was my mom embarrassed!!! =)

If I decide to turn this into a series and share other cartoon moments, some of the titles could include: "Where's My Eye"; "Was That My Finger"; and "Electricity: Friend or Foe". LOL!

"Happy Valentime's Day"

2011-02-14T14:45:00.000-08:00

According to the magic talking box in my house, that's how people say Happy Valentine's Day after one (or 5) too many drinks.

Valentine's Day is great (better some years than others), but I think it's important to also celebrate the friendships we have. Romantic love is wonderful, I don't want to sell that short--it's worth celebrating (just not with diamonds and flowers on February 14th). But when you think about all the people in your life, over the course of your lifetime, you have much more opportunity to experience the kind of love you get from friends and family--even Zsa Zsa Gabor only married 9 times. Maybe I never got over the fun of giving Valentines to friends back in elementary school. Although, that could be a little stressful--you had to make sure to match the Valentine to the person. What if the "Be Mine" accidentally went to Fred??? Those envelopes all got checked twice before going into anyone's foil wrapped shoebox.

Now I want to say Happy Valentine's Day to all my friends...and announce the winners of the sparkly stuff from Pop Champagne. Just for entering, people earned one entry. Entering also unlocked one entry for each comment the person made on my blog during December--a time when everyone is busy preparing for or wrapping up one thing or another. The entries went into an Excel spreadsheet and the random number generating function assigned a number to each. Since PC had five cool pendants, the entries assigned the five lowest numbers are the winners (see screen capture @ the bottom of post). They are:

#1 - Heart Pendant: Meibelle
#2 - Starfish Pendant: Jo
#3 - Star Pendant: Dina
#4 - Starfish Pendant: de.lizzy.cious
#5 - Heart Pendant: Shop N' Chomp

To claim your pendants, please send your address to Julie @ julie_lan@hotmail.com. Have you ever been to her contact page? She has a great sense of humor. I just read that you can write to her if you have a bad dream, so I'll be filling up her in-box very soon! Also, you can send me your address if you want a birthday card, but for the pendants, send it to Julie. I'd probably just send you an e-card anyway. ;P

I'll be doing another giveaway in early May, but I think I'll just make it one entry per person and draw the names from a hat. The way I did it this time seemed like a good idea, but turned out to be too much like work.

A Giveaway to say Thanks

2011-02-08T15:04:00.000-08:00

Hello visitors to my blog! Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate you stopping by, and following, and commenting??? Well, I haven't said it properly in a while. To correct that I am having a giveaway celebration this week, a celebration with champagne. Well, Pop Champagne, which is even better. The gifts are from her collection and include the heart pendent pictured above, or below, or somewhere in this post.

All you have to do is be a current follower (as of February 7th) and leave a comment that you want to enter. That will give you one entry PLUS unlock your pre-determined secret entries!!! There will be more than one winner. Enter by the stroke of midnight on Friday February 11th and on Monday the 14th we'll all find out how many people won. Of course all of you are winners, but only a random selection will actually get jewelry for being so great. =)

If you're hesitant to enter because you don't want to share your address, not a problem. When you win, you can send your address directly to PC. That way you retain your privacy and I only pay to ship it to you--instead of to me and then to you (my "frugal" German poppa would be so proud of me).

Remember to smile today--and enter!!!

Bowl Dilemma

2011-02-05T17:20:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again. During the college bowl season in December, the bowls and networks cooperate to stagger them, so you don't have choose between watching the Fruit Bowl or the Cereal Bowl. You can watch them all.

But now it's February. On Sunday I will have to choose between watching the Super Bowl on Fox or Puppy Bowl VII on Animal Planet. Pro's or puppies??? What would you do? Are you planning to watch either?

PS - I've decided. I'll watch the Super Bowl and DVR the Puppy Bowl.

A hitch in my get-along

2011-01-30T14:52:00.000-08:00

I like that old expression, but I don't have one. Instead I have a nagging pain that runs from my neck to a spot just below my shoulder blade. At times it's just a dull pain, but certain movements (like tilting my head forward) and actions (like a cough, a sneeze, or--at it's worst--just clearing my throat) trigger pretty intense pain. Luckily for me (but mostly for my family), I can still shovel snow. DC was hit with a fast moving storm this week and I was able to clear the Plow Mountain that the snow plow built at the end of my driveway. Yay!!! ;P

I'm sharing this just to explain why I haven't been commenting much this week. I've had no problem doing things that only require mouse clicking (since the pain is on my left side), but typing has been more of a challenge than usual.

I'll be back at full strength soon and writing comments that are too long and occasionally TMI.

PS = Does anyone know how to delete spam messages from Comment boxes???

Blame it on the moon

2011-01-22T11:14:00.000-08:00

Around 8:00pm last night the moon looked amazing. I noticed it as I got off the the train on my way home from work. I love the moon and stars and the winter sky in general. The moon was sitting low on the horizon, looking huge and just a little flat on the top. It looked so cool I wanted to share it with someone. So I turned to the two men who had gotten off the train just ahead of me and asked, "Hey, did you see that moon???"

Just as the words left my lips, the man closest to me pulled a collapsible cane out of his bag. He was blind!!! Inside, I shrunk to the size of a Liliputian. Trying to act as if I had not just done something dumb, I turned to his friend and said, "Wow, the moon looks amazing tonight!" He agreed and I walked quickly out of the station. As I walked away, I heard the two share a chuckle. Thankfully the guy had a sense of humor.

But I feel like an idiot anyway. What were the odds of a blind man being the person closest to me at that momment--and me not having noticed that earlier??? *sigh*

To make myself feel better, I'm claiming some awards today. Fatima from Through This Haze passed me the Versatile Blogger Award and Clai from My Life at 20's tagged me with the Stylish Blogger Award. Thank you ladies, I do feel a little better--but still dumb!!! And thank you to all of my blog friends who take the time to stop by. I have a better "thank you" in the works. =)

Base of Operations

2011-01-19T16:41:00.001-08:00

This is a picture of my childhood home....the place I returned to after my odd adventures--and the place where I experienced some of them (like the ghostly encounters). I'm not sure when the picture was taken. I remember a huge oak tree being just to the right of the picture, but that shadow on the snow looks pretty slim. Also, the scraggily evergreens near the house were healthy when I was around (and applying Mir-acid regularly). There's a train track about 50 yards behind the house. Yep, the engineer had a great view of our laundry hanging out on the line. =)

An uncle lived in a house at the top of a hill to the right and beyond that were acres and acres of trees and fields and interesting places for a boy to explore. To the left was a house built by one of my aunts--two owners later it belonged to the man I shot with my slingshot. Beyond that and just over a hill was my grandparent's store/house on the main road. It was a nice, quiet place to grow up. Yes, even with me there!!!

I like this picture so much I asked Elaine of I'm Clothed Much to turn it into a header for me. She did a really nice job. See it up there??? LOL, well, soon you'll be able to--even if I have to change my template. This template won't let it show. Oh, I have good timing, Elaine just happens to be hosting a very nice giveaway at the moment.

Hitler!!! Where is he???

2011-01-16T06:39:00.001-08:00

Have you ever had your name spit out at you, as if it was Adolph Hitler?

Thanks to one of my older brothers--the one I've referred to as "Sonny", I had the pleasure. But when you follow in the footsteps of 5 older siblings who passed through the same schools, you're bound to encounter comparisons, expectations--and occasionally fear and anger! =)

Most of it was easily overcome. You keep showing up every day and being yourself, eventually teachers get to know you. Sometimes it's a little harder than that. When I didn't make the wrestling team the first year of junior high, I approached the coach about it. I reminded him I had won all of my matches and was the youngest person in my weight class. He said he had to do what was best for the team. I thanked him for his time and started the long walk home--I'd missed the bus. The next day he tracked me down and invited me to join the team. He later admitted he cut me because of Sonny. He worried I might act the same way. But when I called him "sir" and didn't start yelling during our talk, he began to see I was me (not Sonny).

Because of changing school boundaries, I spent the next 2 years in a school across town--none of the teachers there knew any of my siblings. It was really nice having a clean slate. But in the 10th grade I ended up back at the local high school. The first day of class I stayed after school to try out for the soccer team. I'd been team captain the year before (@ the other school). As the coach read off the names of the kids trying out, he got excited when he read mine. Excited as in, "Hitler! Hitler!!! Where is he???" The man was furious. When I answered, he scowled at me and then mumbled something under his breath. The two days of tryouts went well. He matched me against the top, senior forwards (I was a defender). When the coach posted the team roster on the 3rd day of school I scanned the list for my name and found it, sort of. The coach had written my name at the bottom of the list and then vigorously (violently?) crossed it out. I considered approaching him about it, but he seemed a little unstable. I decided to play boys club soccer instead.

So, have you reaped any benefits or encountered problems as a result of elder siblings? If you are an elder sibling, did you leave a legacy for the younger members of your family to live up to--or live down??? ;P

PS - For the record, no, my last name is not Hitler. LOL!

High Maintenance--Not Bitchy!!!

2011-01-12T11:54:00.000-08:00

Last month, MizzJ of the wonderful Being High Maintenance, not Bitchy blog, sponsored several giveaways. For the first one, she asked readers to leave a comment giving one way in which they are high maintenance. I didn't enter, but it got me thinking.

Am I high maintenance? Well, I do like to be comfortable. Enduring discomfort is not a problem—you get to be good at it when you’re the youngest of 6 kids! But why endure it if you don’t have to? Right?

I adopted that philosophy at a young age. At 5 or 6, I inherited a roll-away bed from an older brother. I liked sleeping on my little cot. But with 6 kids and 7 beds in the house, we were one sheet short of full coverage. While a single sheet folded in half was big enough to cover the mattress on my cot, I didn’t have a top sheet—I didn’t know anyone did. But while getting into bed one night, I accidentally grabbed the top half of the folded sheet along with my blanket and I climbed in between the fold. Lying there nestled between two layers of the sheet felt heavenly! It was cool, soft and insulated me from the itchy blanket. It was amazing!!! In that moment, the Little Prince was born.

Up until then, I was a rough and tumble little boy who didn’t notice anything. But comfort started becoming important. When my shoes got too tight, I lost them. (Now you know where shoes on the side of the road come from!) If I got a hole in my sock, it had to be fixed—I even sewed a few holes closed myself. (What is “darning”?) When my dad wanted to turn off the A/C before he went to bed, I promised I'd push the “off” button when I turned in—then I’d doze on the couch for hours so I could enjoy the cool air. After chores, I occasionally pushed the forbidden “on” button on the A/C. Why wait for my dad to get home to cool off the house a little? I knew how to push a button—I just had to remember to turn it off before he got home!!!

Sometimes I might go too far in pursuit of comfort. Thankfully, labels on the Hanes t-shirts I wear under my dress shirts are printed on the shirt itself now. But the old tags, made from synthetic material, aggravated my neck. So I cut them out. That left a sharp little stub that was even more annoying than the tag itself. My only option was to turn the shirts inside out—no one could see them anyway. Unfortunately, one day I went to the barber shop with my shirt inside out. The barber giggled because she thought I was being stylish (for once). Also, the seams on some socks are too thick. They can irritate my toes…so those go inside out too.

Okay, it’s clear I’ve taken comfort to crazy-ville with regard to some things. But like the princess in the Princess and the Pea, this prince does not like lumps, humps or bumps. But don’t get the wrong idea. I can tolerate sitting on a backseat hump for hours, in the center seat on a plane, in a theater with my kids elbowing me, or on a hot subway car stalled in a tunnel, all without complaint. I just think the “comfort” things I can control, I should control—even the crazy little ones.

If I was a girl, my only heels would be the two end slices on a loaf of bread.

So, do you know anyone who does weird little things to be comfortable? Believe it or not, I have a sister-in-law who wears her socks inside out for that reason. So I may be crazy, but I’m not alone. =)

noreply-comment @ blogger.com

2011-01-09T17:36:00.000-08:00

My blog is set to forward your comments to my e-mail account. On occasion, one of you leaves a comment that is so great, I want to reply right away--without having to go into Blogger (which is always slow). So without hesitation, I hit "reply" to the e-mail and the words flow into my messsage just as they did for Ralphie's theme paper in "A Christmas Story". Some of these messages get through. Unfortunately, my best replies end up not going to you. Instead they go to the "noreply-comment @ blogger.com" e-mail address the system uses for bloggers who don't share their e-mail account on their profile page. My most pithy prose and insightful insights, lost forever. So sad!

Once I realized I was doing that (sending messages w/out 1st checking to confirm they were going to a real e-mail account), I imagined a guy named Larry @ Blogger spending his free time going through all of those mis-directed messages. They're all the poor guy has in his life.

So, is it just me, or have you sent Larry a message or two since you started bloging?

Parking Spaces: Try to fit in (one)

2011-01-05T09:55:00.000-08:00

Why do so many people park at odd angles, perpendicular to the lines, straddling the lines, or anything other than between them? I’ve never met any of the drivers in question to find out. But at the start of December my wife did. She was running errands before taking her dad to knee surgery. She stopped at Goodwill to drop off some items and the place was packed. There was only one spot, next to a car that was over the line. It was on her passenger side, so she was able to park and get out of her car. It was just a quick stop—in and out.

Almost immediately she was paged and informed her car was blocking someone in. She went out intending to apologize, but also point out that if the person had parked properly there wouldn't have been a problem. The other driver was an older woman who immediately starting yelling at my wife—that she should learn to park and stop being so inconsiderate. I’m told there was an examination of the physical evidence and a spirited discussion as to which of them didn’t know how to park. Finally the other woman snapped, “Just move your damn car.”

Having spent too much time with me, my wife folded her arms and suggested the woman try getting in her car from the passenger’s side since "there's lots of room over there". But after enjoying the moment, she moved. It was annoying, but not as bad as the time 2 guys stole a spot she was waiting for (with blinker on)—the car backing out blocked her from pulling in and in the meantime the guys swooped in from the other direction. When she told them she had been waiting for the spot, they just looked at her and then went into the mall. Chivalry isn’t dead, but it sure is in short-supply.

Okay, in a big empty parking lot, who cares how anyone parks? Well, I do, just not as much. But in a crowded parking lot it really annoys me when drivers can’t get it right. It’s a little thing, but it shows a lack of regard for others. Whether it’s by omission (not thinking) or commission (thinking, but not caring) it’s inconsiderate. These people need to be reminded that, as Kym’s recent post title says “Newsflash: You’re Not the Only Person in the World!”

Next up: "Proper Grocery Cart Etiquette", "If You Kick My Theater Seat One More Time!", and "It's 2am, Shut the H*** Up!" The last one was inspired by a drunken teenage party next door that spilled into their front yard--the elderly couple across the street send me a Father's Day cake every year to thank me for sending the kids home.

The King's Speech

2011-01-02T19:53:00.000-08:00

"The King's Speech" is an excellent film. But don't go based on my opinion--I like a wide range of movies--from great to horrible! Check out reviews to see if it's something you'd be interested in. I went in convinced I would hate it, but instead I really enjoyed it. It's the story of King George VI's reluctant ascension to the throne at the end of 1936. He was the younger brother of Edward, who abdicated to marry an American from Baltimore--which didn't seem like a romantic move in this telling.

She (Mrs Simpson) was depicted in the film in much the same way my grandmother described the woman from Baltimore who married and then (supposedly) poisoned my great-grandfather--stealing the family farm, which she sold. I don't know the woman's name because my grandmother refused to ever say it, instead referring to her as "that woman".

The movie reminded me of one piece of Rick Trivia. In the film, Winston Churchill shares that he was born tongue-tied. According to my parents, I was born tongue-tied!!! The operation to correct that was probably not as gruesome as they made it sound, but thinking about it makes my mouth hurt.

Sorry, got off-track there. There's no magic or action scenes, but to me "The King's Speech" was more than worth the price of admission.

Birth Order

2010-12-28T12:21:00.000-08:00

Warning: This story could be cute or inappropriate--but it's funny!

My parents raised 6 kids. They had 3 girls, followed closely by 3 boys. I'm the youngest. Supposedly, birth order affects our personality—as does whether any older/younger siblings are brothers or sisters. I’m skeptical, because there are so many variables. In my family, for example, my oldest brother is sort of like Fredo in “The Godfather” and my middle brother much like Sonny—the oldest in the movie. So that makes me…um, oh…never mind. This post isn’t really about that anyway. It’s about my eldest brother (let’s call him Fredo) and why I’m glad I was NOT the first-born male.

I think I’ve mentioned before that I have good timing. Despite having no one to hand my chores over to as I grew, I lucked out in the birth order dept. Two of toddler Fredo’s sisters were only a little older than he was—18 months older and 3 years older. They were going through a “playing doctor” phase. It was obvious to the young doctors that something was wrong with their brother. But what was it? A hernia? An odd growth of some sort? To be safe, they decided to wrap it in bandages. All they had was scotch tape. It would just have to do. They wrapped his little toddler pee-pee up like a mummy—in scotch tape.

When I came along 6 years later, those same sisters were in a school teacher phase. So, I was able to read, write and do simple math long before I started school...and scotch tape was only used to fix rips in sheets of paper. I'm very happy with my place in the birth order.

PS – Fredo has the WORST luck with women. I’m not saying that’s related to anything, but…

PSS - Cute or Inappropriate????

A Missed Tradition

2010-12-24T20:42:00.000-08:00

I messed up a tradition this Christmas Eve. It's been a long month! My father-in-law had knee surgery at the start of the month and just got out of the rehab center this afternoon. So it was a month spent going back and forth to visit him every day (but 2) and also spending time at his house every day to take care of his cat (a cat allergy exempted me from that).

Now that I've gotten one excuse on the table, I can admit my failure. I finished wrapping presents and arranged them under the tree around 11:30. Then I looked up and saw the stockings over the fireplace. The STOCKINGS! Argh! Every year we put oranges, walnuts, Kisses, and candy canes in the stockings...along with some practical items. This year I forgot to buy those things. I usually pick them up at the grocery store after work on Xmas Eve--I feel like Bob Cratchit getting the "special pippens" (in the 1938 version of "A Christmas Carol"--and only that version). This year the office was closed, so no stop on the way home from work. Plus, I've got a bug, probably just a cold. Going to the store never crossed my mind.

Oh well, at least we had our traditional Chinese takeout for dinner. Maybe the kids won't mind finding apples, Moose Munch taffy, and 1 candy cane each (leftover from last year I think--I found them in a drawer) in their stockings. I'm sure they won't. As much as we love our traditions, they know it's not what tomorrow is all about--they've heard Linus' explanation, "That's what Christmas is all about Charlie Brown." =)

I wish you the peace and love of the season, my friends!

Christmas Past

2010-12-19T20:45:00.000-08:00

Every year my dad put our tree up on Christmas Eve. He would wrestle it into the stand while speaking the same strange language as the dad in "The Christmas Story." I always helped decorate the tree. After arranging ornaments, we placed tinsel on the tree one strand at a time. Our tree topper is to the right—the beard hair came from Santa himself (haircut clippings).

One year we went caroling. My dad and sisters always went to midnight Mass--they were in the church choir. After my chores, I made macaroni bracelets (or something like that) for my sisters, cards for my parents, and tried to play Christmas music on my grandpa’s ancient electric organ (we had a “by the numbers” guide). A turkey was usually soaking in salt water.

Since Santa had so much ground to cover, my folks told him not to wrap our presents. He created a pile for each person--so the excitement was figuring out which pile was yours. Every year I got a some combination of pants, a shirt, socks or underwear—somehow Santa always knew what I needed most. And there would be THE present. One year it was a doctor's kit. One year a plastic trumpet (no parent would give a noise-maker like that to their son). When I got older, one year I received a chess set.

We visited family during the holidays, including my dad's sister. She made amazing homemade cookies. But at her house the kids had to sit and listen to the adults talk for what seemed like hours…often debating the shortest route to places I'd never been. Snore!

Favorite Christmas Memory:
Instead of going to midnight Mass one year, I stayed home with my mom. We watched "A Christmas Carol" (1938 version). She let me have eggnog and fruitcake. I like eggnog. I like fruitcake. But combined they made me sick. Despite the upset stomach, that night with my mom is one of my favorite Christmas memories.

Least Favorite Christmas Memory:
Taking tinsel off the tree! My father wanted to keep the tinsel to reuse the next year. So we had to take it all off one strand at a time. The tinsel was older than I was.

Christmas as an Adult:
The tree goes up mid-month with no hassle--not until the 18th this year. Santa always wraps my kids' presents, even though I've asked him not to. When we get together with family I always start a conversation about the best way to get to a particular place…to keep the tradition alive and to annoy the kids a little. They’ve heard the story and know why I do it.

Hopefully this Christmas season will create new fond memories for my family and I hope it does the same for all of my friends. Whether you celebrate or not, I wish you and your loved ones the peace and joy of the season!!!

PS - When I was 15 I asked my mom for another doctor's kit. I told her ALL teenage boys enjoy playing doctor!!! She didn't think that was funny.

Pronouns: Friend or Foe?

2010-12-16T07:59:00.000-08:00

I've watched too many episodes of "How I Met Your Mother". Roma commented on my last post that she wouldn't be surprised if I did a post on pronouns. After I read that, I heard myself say, "Challenge accepted!" So here goes...

Pronoun: The part of speech that substitutes for nouns or noun phrases and designates persons or things asked for, previously specified, or understood from the context.

Thanks to that last part, "understood from the context", the pronoun can be the most helpful or most dangerous part of speech. Helpful because sometimes we like to be vague ("we broke your window") and dangerous because sometimes people try to mislead us.

Imagine a guy approaching a female co-worker and saying, "Hey, we're going to happy hour. Can you make it?" Just exactly who is this "we"? Is he talking about himself and the 3 other people who live inside his head? Are other co-workers really going? Or is this a sly attempt to get the girl to have a drink with him?

If it's the 3rd possibility and the person asking is Itchy McScratchy (the office oddball), the girl will likely be on guard and ask who is going. That is how it should be. But if the person asking is the handsome, witty, single guy in her office, she might just say yes w/out checking. That could be bad--he could be the one with 3 other people living inside his brain.

So, when it comes to the use of pronouns, feel free to be vague when you need to be, but don't let others get away with it. ALWAYS confirm what's being implied. Don't be a pronoun victim!!!

PS - I hope to do a post soon on the ways in which I'm high maintenance, not bitchy. I don't want to rush that and paint the wrong picture. =)

It was a typo

2010-12-15T08:57:00.000-08:00

Have I commented to you that, "I hope you sin!"?

Or that, "The food looks greta in your pictures"?

Or, "It's aobut time for me to change jobs"?

Those are some of my more common typos. It's not my fault the "w" and the "s" are so close to each other on the keyboard. Hopefully you knew I wanted you to win, not sin. That one-key over (or up or down) error always produces strange results.

Almost as embarrassing are the times I type the wrong, there, their, or they're. I know the difference. When I'm composing I think the correct version, but on occasion my fingers go rogue. I can't explain the disconnect between brain and fingers. Once in a great while I type a completely random word in place of what I meant to type (i.e, make instead of like).

I'm not sure why I so often type the "t" before the "a" in great, but it happens almost every time. I'm really not trying to invent a new adjective. If "great" appears correctly in a comment or post, it's probably because I caught the mistake in editing. Same goes for "aobut".

We all commit typos, right?

Okay, that's it for my biannual typo disclaimer. If you see a typo or a misplaced word in one of my posts or comments, please remember that grunting was my first language and I probably did know the correct spelling or word to use (probably), it just didn't make it onto the page.

Happy Wednesday!

I need the mirror

2010-12-14T10:49:00.001-08:00

One gray, overcast day, a former boss of mine (a guy) and one of his female peers had to attend a meeting across town. It was drizzling a little when the meeting ended. Neither had an umbrella. They had to decide whether to walk to the subway station (about a block) or wait 15 minutes for our shuttle to swing around on it's neverending circuit (it ends at 4pm).

Girl: Let's walk to the subway, I don't care if my hair gets a little wet.
Guy: Maybe you don't, but I spent a lot of time on my hair this morning.

My old boss was VERY fussy about his hair. It had to spike in just the right way. He and I are at opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of the amount of time we put into our appearance. I've had the same hairstyle (with only the length varying) since the 5th grade--when my dad stopped giving me the buzz cut you see in my profile picture. If my comb comes out of my pocket more than once a day, it must be a windy day.

Anyway, the lady who told me the story above, also said she didn't like men who spent more time on their appearance than she does. How about you? Do you prefer men who primp, lotion and pluck or guys who shower and go--and can walk by a mirror without looking into it???

Edit: That boss said he was going to turn my going away party into a roast. I thanked him and said that would give me an opportunity to share the "hair" story with everyone. He didn't roast me. LOL!

Working together

2010-12-12T19:57:00.000-08:00

In some families, teaming up to prepare a single dish can be fun. It's become a holiday tradition for Kristieinbc's family. But it doesn't quite work for us. Thursday night my wife and I collaborated on a simple tuna salad for dinner. I didn't put in enough mayonnaise and she put in too much celery. It's an old story for us. We do better when we split work up into discrete efforts. As an example, for holiday dinners, I make the stuffing while she makes the yams. One chef per dish is the way to go for us.

We've had similar experiences outside the kitchen. When we moved into our house, it had an above-ground pool. We winterized it after our first summer and something unfortunate happened. For those who've had a pool, you know that you need to empty some of the water, add a HUGE amount of chemicals to the remaining water, place a float (inner tube) in the center, and cover it all up until summer. I handled all the preliminary work, but needed my wife's help pulling the cover on the pool. She was on one side and I was on the other. It sounds simple, but the cover kept getting caught on the inner tube.

We agreed to both lift on the count of 3, but lifted at different times. I tried counting, she tried counting, but we just couldn't coordinate our efforts. We tried 5 times, 10 times, 15 times and failed over and over. Finally, I knew what I had to do. I jumped into the pool, despite all the chemicals. It was then a simple matter for me to lift the cover over the float and lock it down tight after I got out (so no one could get in over the winter).

Because of the chemicals, I hoped I might develop super-powers...and my wife thought it would be a good idea if we didn't have any more children!

Gosh, I forgot my point. Oh yeah, try to be flexible in dealing with others and learn to work together or you too may end up in a toxic stew. Even a metaphorical toxic stew is no fun.

PS - Splitting up projects and working on them seperately IS a form of teamwork. It's the American football version of teamwork--offense, defense, and special teams, all important, all part of the team, but never on the field at the same time. ;P

PSS - I always open and drain the tuna when we have it. My contribution usually stops there.

That was my idea!

2010-12-09T12:50:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had a good idea or what you were sure was an original thought, only to discover that someone beat you to it? I hate it when that happens! I don’t have any crazy claims like, “the toilet was my idea,” but I have experienced this.

One idea was the Paleolithic diet. A college friend argued that humans are herbivores and we were never meant to eat meat. I replied that humans are omnivores—seeing me prowl the kitchen after dark proves that. I conceded we (in the US) eat too much meat, the quality is questionable, and we could probably get along fine without it. But our ancestors who started hunting in the Paleolithic period definitely ate meat. I suggested we might be healthier if we stuck to a Paleolithic-style diet. {Light Bulb} What a great idea! Unfortunately I was not the first to think of it. The Paleolithic diet was already a real thing.

But today I had an idea that may be original—I don’t see a lot of evidence of it on the internet. The idea is to teach people to control their spending the same way they control their calorie intake (except more successfully). A large percentage of girls can tell you how hard it is to work off calories (if you eat an Oreo, you’ll have to pull a plow 12 hours to work it off), but do many girls think of their fashion/accessory purchases in terms of how many hours they’d need to work to pay for it? I'm just using women as an example, it applies to guys too. I thought a brief book on the subject (targeted to the 17-to-22 age group) might sell. What do you think???

Happy Thursday!