No one asked, but... (and a giveaway)

I feel like over-sharing.

Am I a nerd?

I love Star Trek, Doctor Who, LOTR, The Big Bang Theory and Jeopardy, but I don't think I'm smart enough to be an actual nerd.  I do have nerd-like tendencies, though.  While watching The Walking Dead, I became annoyed when humans entered a Southern Baptist church and discovered zombies sitting quietly in pews looking towards a huge crucifix.  That was just ridiculous!  Everyone knows Southern Baptists use a plain cross, not a crucifix.  It made the entire episode completely unbelieveable.  :P

Do I have odd habits?

I say no.  My family says yes.  Early in my career I used to have lunch in my office's tiny lunch room.  The vending machine in the room stocked a variety of Pepperidge Farm cookies--for a great price.  I discovered they were cheap because they were hard as rocks.  To get around that, I dunked them in my drink.  Water!  I liked what water did to the cookies.  It softened them, but unlike milk it did not change the flavor--and it made the water taste like cookies.  I don't do it often, but every once in a while I still dunk cookies in water.  Chocolate chip cookies work the best.

I could have listed any one of many things in this section (for example, my wife says I dry off in an odd way after a shower, I get into bed funny, I eat M&M's in a weird way, etc., etc.). But this one is on my mind because over the weekend my daughter saw me dunk a cookie is water and she asked, "Do your teeth hurt???"  LOL!

Do I appreciate your comments?

YES!!!  And since I made a big deal about appreciate being an action verb (in a previous post), it's time for a reader appreciation giveaway.  Herro Hachi and Olive and Piper have offered to help me celebrate your blog friendship.  We're giving away Herro Hachi items (of your choice) AND an Olive and Piper $25 gift certificate.  To enter, please visit their websites, identify your favorite item on each site and mention them in a comment to this post.  That's one entry.  For a second (and third) entry, tweet about your favorite items (and comment that you tweeted!).  There will be more than two winners!

Well, you're all winners--the giveaway winners will be announced next week.  I've ordered from both companies and all I can say is they're the best.  Products, customer service, everything!  I'm sure you will like them as much as I do. 


Edit:  The giveaway is open to everyone!

Delayed announcement

I was planning to make an announcemen today, but Friday is the worst day for that sort of thing.  Unless you're firing someone.  Friday is perfect for that.  But I'm not firing anyone, so the announcement will have to wait.

Instead, I'd like to re-share a vacation story.  Lisa (from expandng) got me thinking about vacations.

Who doesn’t love summer vacation??? Whether you’re a child or adult (or a little of both), it’s something to look forward to. Each year during my dad’s summer vacation we would have a Sunday picnic next to the creek on his family farm; we’d spend an evening at a carnival (funnel cake!!!) and we would spend one day at a beach on the Chesapeake Bay. The rest of the week we would do one special project or another. One year we built a carport.  Other years we shingled the roof, dug ditches, built sheds, cleared a field on the farm...well, you get the idea.

But this isn’t a story about work. It’s about the annual trip to the beach on which I learned to swim. It was a great little beach. There were trees close to the sand, so you could sit in the shade on cool grass if you got overheated.  There were inexpensive arcade games and skee ball. Aunts and uncles joined us and they usually had good food to share.

The year I turned seven, my dad took me out in the water to teach me to swim. He pointed to an aunt floating by (on her back) to convince me that people float and swimming was easy. He held me at water level so I could practice—I worked my arms and legs like a pro. He kept saying he wasn't going to let go, I should just keep paddling and kicking.

Then, of course, he let go. I kept working my arms and legs…and I sank like a stone. Within seconds I could feel that I had settled on the bottom and I was lying on my dad’s feet. But I was still paddling and kicking!!! Eventually he reached down to pull me up and we made our way back to shore. I took my little bucket and shovel to a different part of the beach so he wouldn’t get the idea to try to teach me to swim a second time—I thought he was just a little too slow pulling me up that first time. LOL!

Okay, so this wasn’t really a story about me learning to swim.  It was a story about me learning to sink! But I was REALLY good at it.  :D  I did learn to swim two years later, in a pool.

Soooo, how did you learn to swim???

Mayday, May Day!

I couldn’t decide which “may day” to use for the post title.  The post is about May (among other things), but in a “mayday” sort of way.  It’s a month of mixed feelings for me.  I got married in May.  Plus there’s Mother’s Day, graduations, my grandmother’s birthday, and (usually) really pretty weather.  It's a great month.  But it also takes a toll on my family, literally.  We have more funerals in May than any other month—three this year.  It’s weird.  My mom passed away on Memorial Day (long ago--but honestly, if you have to go on a holiday, that’s the most appropriate one). 

I’d like to share a story about the May night I thought I might lose a brother and for a moment, myself (we’re both fine).  It was just before my second wedding anniversary.  My wife and I talked about it the night it happened (of course), but I have only shared the story with one other person.  It’s one of those things people don’t talk about, but probably should.

By coincidence, my brother and I were living a block apart at the time.  I was working full-time and going to school at night, so we didn’t see each other.  But my wife spent time with his wife, toddler son and newborn daughter.  She enjoyed that, until my SIL started to suspect my brother was cheating on her.  He was (non-stop, almost since the day they married).  In mid-May the SIL found proof, packed up the kids and moved in with her parents.  My brother was devastated. 

At 3am Sunday morning, my phone rang.  It was my dad.  He quickly told me what had happened and that my brother was at home, planning to shoot himself.  He'd called our parents to say goodbye.  The parents were heading out of their house, but it would take them 30 minutes to get there.  I was two minutes away.  My dad asked me to go stop him.

I pulled on pants, stepped into shoes and ran the block to my brother's townhouse.  The door was locked.  I could see a front window was open, but it was too high to reach from the ground.  I had to climb over the porch railing and jump for the window.  After knocking out the screen, I crawled in.  (Who knew the experience I gained breaking into my parent's house as a teen would ever come in handy???)  Once inside I turned on the lights and unlocked the front door.  I didn't see my brother, but I could hear him.  He was upstairs, wailing.

When I got to the top of the stairs I told him it was me.  He yelled at me to leave, I told him I couldn't.  I reached into his bedroom and turned on the light.  What I saw shocked me.  I'd seen him in primal rages of anger, but that night he looked...different.  The sight brought to mind the image of an animal caught in one of those vicious metal traps, panicked and in terrible pain.  Then I noticed he was pointing a gun at me.  He yelled at me to turn off the light.  I obliged him.  I didn't think he would shoot me, but accidents happen.  I moved back around the corner.

I had no idea what to do next.  Our parents were still 25 minutes away.  I started talking to him.  I asked what happened, why he was doing this.  I told him he didn't have to lose his family, his marriage didn't have to be over if he didn't want it to be.  I told him his kids needed a father, that he could rebuild his marriage.  That didn't work.  He said he was going to shoot himself.  So I told him he couldn't do that to ME.  How could I live with myself if he shot himself while I just sat there.  That made him mad, but in a different way.  I was hoping it would.  He said I couldn't make this about me.  Then I talked about how what we do affects others.  While we argued about that, the front door opened.  I considered the possibility that it was a thief and not my parents, but either way I was glad to have someone else there.  Of course it was the parents.  My dad came upstairs.  Soon my brother handed me his gun and went home with them.

Was he really going to shoot himself?  I don't know.  Maybe that was just his way of calling mayday, sending out an emergency call for help.  We helped him, that night and for months afterwards.  Eventually his wife took him back.  To show his gratitude, he started cheating on her again--repeatedly.  Years (and two more kids) later she threw him out.

PS - I didn't know what to say to my brother that night.  But in the end that didn't really matter.  I think just being there was the important thing.  That was an extreme case, but I believe we can all do a lot of good just by giving a few minutes of our time to others...letting them talk, letting them feel like someone is listening.  You never know if that small thing might be what keeps the person from sinking into a dark, desperate place.  No one should have to go there.

Reunion

My wife and I met at our high school 20 year reunion.  She was still single, but I was married to someone else.  When we bumped into each other, the magic was still there.  I wanted to spend time with her, but she said we couldn't.  It wouldn't be right--since I was married.  She also said the situation was my fault for choosing someone else (a Pom-Pom named Cathy) all those years ago.  I made my choice and was going to have to live with it.  I tried to kiss her, but she pushed away and slapped me.

Then she woke up from her bad dream.

Then she hit me (for real) as I innocently slept.

She’d had a dream and was mad at me.  That's happened several times over the years.  I got lucky the last time it happened--I was already having breakfast when she woke up, so I was out of reach.

Later she told me about her dream.  Then smiled and said, “But I've decided to forgive you!"  I think I mentioned that here on the blog at the time.

Today is our wedding anniversary.  I had flowers delivered to her office yesterday and I'm taking her to her favorite places (shopping and eating) on Saturday.  But the next time she has a bad dream, none of that will matter.  I'll be in trouble.  She'll probably smack me--again.  :)

Have a great weekend folks, go do something fun.  I'm hoping to! 

Periscope (Up? Down???)

I had to do something I always assumed I would not do.  It's a particular medical examination.  My plan was to never do it and then, at a ripe old age, die quietly in my sleep.

 

Or maybe get hit by a meteor.  That would have been okay too.

 

But after my bout of diverticulitis, I had to do it.  I scheduled a colonoscopy.  My doctor made sure I would by telling me I had to stay on a bland, mushy diet (rice, tofu, cottage cheese, yogurt, overly cooked fruit and veggies) until we knew exactly what was going on down there.  Nothing crunchy and no sriracha!!!

 

I had the colonoscopy yesterday.  I was warned the preparation would be the worst part of it.  But I had some fun with it.  The instructions called for me to drink 32 ounces of what tasted like lemon Pledge at 6pm Monday night and again at 9am Tuesday morning.  As I drank the first batch, I joked with my family that I wanted to be the first person to ever drink that stuff and NOT go to the bathroom.  At first I worried that might come true.  I drank it (in stages, as directed), but nothing happened.  Thirty minutes later, still nothing. 

 

To amuse the family, I held my stomach (as if pressure was building), grimaced, and told them, "I.can.con.tain.it!"  We all laughed.  But before long all heck broke loose.  The fun was over.

 

Skipping ahead to the next day (after going through the second batch of Pledge), after changing into a little gown for the examination, I asked the nurse if I could weigh myself.  When would I ever weigh less than I did at that moment???  She showed me to the scale and sure enough, I was considerably lighter (time to update my driver's license).  Anyway, when I got back to the little prep room my wife was smiling.  She said, "You forgot to hold the back of the gown closed when you walked to the scale.  You mooned everyone!"

 

I wasn't embarrassed a bit.  I told her that was important for girls, but boys only need to make sure their fronts are covered.  :)   I was in a silly mood. 

 

Actually, I was joking more than usual because I was a little worried.  Family members decided to remind me about two colonoscopy horror stories (which I won't pass on).  I knew the odds were overwhelmingly good, but I worried some anyway.

Thankfully the results were positive--and I never have to go through it again.  At least that's what I heard the doc say.  My wife thinks he said I'll need to do it again in 10 years or if I get another diverticulitis attack, whichever comes first.  Or the meteor...whatever.  :)


PS - I joke, but the examination was a breeze.  When your doctor tells you it's time for one, don't worry.  It's over before you know it.  After going through it, I can say it's not a big deal.  Before I knew that, I was lucky to receive anti-freak-out encouragement from a good friend.  Thanks Rooth!

Sit-com Life

Our cable company recently added a new channel that carries old TV shows (really old).  On it I stumbled across a sit-com conversation very similar to many that used to take place in our house (I've learned to avoid them). 

The husband and wife were on the verge of having an argument. 

Husband:  Wait, how did this even get started? 
Wife:  You attacked me. 
Husband:  All I did was compliment her cooking.  (The "her" was a neighbor.) 
Wife:  That's what I said, you attacked me. 

I nearly choked when I heard that.  I hit the record button so I could share it with my wife.  She laughed when she saw it, but also sided with the TV wife 100% ("He shouldn't have been talking about another woman's cooking!").  I KNEW she would (as I mentioned, we've had similar conversations), that's why it was so funny to me. 

I almost don't want to ask, but do you agree with her??? 

Patience

I had fun on my commute home last night.  It started with an annoyance, but turned around quickly.

The escalator leading down into the subway station was packed, a combination of tourists and office workers.  Standard practice is to stand on the right side of the escalator to allow people to walk past you on the left—remember that if you ever take the subway in DC.  If you forget, well...please read on.

Anyway, as I said, the escalator was packed, on the right and left.  With encouragement from a woman one step down, the young man next to me started yelling at people to “move to the right”.  That wasn’t going to happen, there were too many people and many of them were tourists.  The second time he yelled I told him to stop, that the older gentleman (20 steps ahead—with at least 20 people behind him) wasn’t going to move.  He complained about people being rude, not doing what they’re supposed to. 

Right about that time the older gentleman stepped off the escalator at the bottom and we could see more than just the back of his head.  We could see he was carrying a wheelchair for his extremely frail wife. 

I turned to my new friend and said, “Wow, you must feel like a huge jerk right now!” and laughed (and laughed).

He didn’t see the humor and stomped off into the subway in a huff.  Hopefully he learned a lesson.  I’m all for speaking up and encouraging people to “do what they’re supposed to” (it was my dad’s best trait), but that doesn’t include yelling at someone because you have to wait 30 seconds.  

Patience and courtesy should never go out of style.