I Got Nothin'

On the Move

2007-08-29T21:04:00.001-04:00

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

That's from Closing Time, I think. Am having lyrical brain malfunctions, but I'm pretty sure that's it.

Regardless, there is a new beginning in my blogging life -- at WordPress.

So, if you would, join me here.

This is the 100th post to this blog in just over a year. The timing seems right to make a change.

And, who knows, perhaps bigger and better things will come from this.

Thanks for being here so far. It's been fun. And I hope it continues.

So, update your bookmarks, your blog rolls and join me at the new I Got Nothin'.

Sit Down and Be Proud

2007-08-28T10:20:00.000-04:00

So, here I am, writing my 99th post. Who knew I'd make it this far. Certainly not me.

Also, I sort of promised myself that I wouldn't entertain bathroom posts, particularly about my own actions, until at least the 101st post.

Well, screw that. We're throwing caution to the wind. I'm writing about it now. Number 99.

Yup, this is me. Living on the edge.

OK, so, the thing is. I'm a guy. This you know. You also know I wouldn't always fit into the category of 'typical guy.' Particularly when it comes to one of my bathroom habits.

I can admit it. I really can. Here goes. Ready?

Hi, I'm Mike. And I'm a SometimesSitter.

Phew. I don't know how you feel, but I'm feeling much better with that off my chest.

A SometimesSitter.

So what does that mean, actually?

It means that whenever I go the bathroom, of the number one variety, I'm not always standing over the toilet.

Sometimes I sit.

Why? I'm not really sure, but, I do.

And, you know what? I like it.

Let's look at a couple of examples.

I always sit at work. It's the easiest, cleanest and most convenient. I work in an office with mostly women. This way, I don't sprinkle anywhere, I don't have to worry about putting the seat down. None of that. Just sit down, take a nice little rest and that's it.

There's only one other guy in the office, so if the women find any leftovers or if the seat is still up, guess what? It's him. Not me. I take some comfort in that.

In other public spots, I'll choose not to be a SometimesSitter. It sort of depends on where and the overall cleanliness situation. But, that's the benefit of this. I can choose when and where I want to be a SometimesSitter.

I'm almost always a SometimesSitter when I wake up in the morning. As I trudge down the hall to go, I'm too asleep to concentrate on aim and all that stuff. Just sit down and go. What's the big deal?

Being a SometimesSitter is nothing to be ashamed of. This I know. In fact, I might be ahead of the curve on this one.

So, if there are, in fact, any guys reading this blog, how about it? Are you a SometimesSitter?

It's OK. In fact, it's more than OK.

So stand up, er, sit down and be proud.

What else? I got nothin'.

One Reason Being a Parent is Hard

2007-08-27T10:53:00.000-04:00

Well, it finally happened.

"I don't have to do it all the time with Mommy."

Those were the words from my three-year-old when I insisted he wear his helmet to ride his bike, even for just a couple of minutes in the driveway.

I could go on and on about how we didn't have to wear helmets. But, fact is, kids have to today. So, my thought and goal is that everytime he sits on the bike, his helmet is on his head. No exceptions. Then it becomes automatic.

When I mentioned it to Renee, she definitely understood my point. And, agrees with it. Yet, there are times when she's juggling a bazillion things and Aidan on the bike for a minute or two without the helmet isn't a terrible thing.

And I agree with that. We're both trying so hard at this parenting thing. And the helmet is the newest challenge.

It's a Diego helmet, which is cool. And he loves that. But one day, it goes on without any issue at all. The next, you'd think we're talking about him putting an animal on his head.

It's probably our problem for not starting it as soon as he started riding on it about a year ago. But that was when he could barely pedal. He's a pro now, and we are trying to catch up with the helmet thing, because next year, he'll definitely be on a 'big boy' bike with training wheels and not a glorified tricycle.

We'll get there, and this won't be the first time I hear him say what he said. And, God knows there will be times when he says to her, "But I don't do it that way with Daddy."

Ah, the joys.

What else? I got nothin'.

One Reason Being a Parent is Cool

2007-08-24T20:59:00.000-04:00

So we're reading stories tonight before bed. It was just Aidan and me.

Renee was at a friend's, and she took Erin with her.

Boys' Night like these usually start with a meal at McDonalds, which is always a treat.

So, we got back, did bath with no issues and then it was story time.

After Brown Bear, Brown Bear and a Thomas book, it was time for One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish -- which is my favorite book to read.

So we're going through it, having fun and we get to the part about having a Zans.

Now, usually, if Renee is reading the book, Aidan will say, "I don't have a Zans. I have a can opener."

Can't argue with that.

But, tonight, it was pure joy to hear him say the following:

"I don't have a Zans, Daddy."

"I know, bud."

"I have you and Mommy and Erin."

I mean, how cool is that?

What else? I got nothin'.

OK, The Wait is Over...

2007-08-23T10:41:00.000-04:00

....Sit right back and you'll hear a tale. A tale of a fateful trip, that started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship.

Well, I'm sure you can finish the rest of the song. Or, maybe you can't. Because a couple of times that I've mentioned my day with Bob Denver, a few people were like, "I thought you meant John Denver."

Is it possible that I'm older than enough of you, my faithful readers, that you really don't know who Bob Denver is? That really can't be possible. Can it?

Well, for those that don't know, Bob Denver was Gilligan. As in Gilligan's Island. As in the theme song in the first sentence of this post. As in one of the most entertaining TV shows. Ever.

That Bob Denver.

He was an icon. A legend.

And, as I found out, an incredible chain smoker.

Here's the story.

I was in Vermont at the time. Working for marketing/PR agency. We landed a new television station as a client and were assigned with the task of planning the launch party for the station. Basically, get people to care about the then fledgling WB Network. No easy task, even for this PR guy. Because, keep in mind, this was like 1995.

So, in order to drum up some buzz, the station folks hired Bob Denver to come to Vermont and act as the celebrity pitch man for this station launch.

Now, again, for anyone over probably 32, Bob Denver is legendary. Under that, I'm really not so sure. You may have seen a little Gilligan's Island, but not like we did. And, heck, Gilligan's Island was big for him, but for the even older generation, he was known as Doby Gillis.

But, I digress.

Now, why did they pick Bob Denver to launch a station that was full of WB programming? Beats the hell out of me. Denver had a show called Treasure Hunters or something that was also on the station, but needless to say, he didn't fit the overall demographic.

But, when you're a PR guy, you work with what you have. So, that's what I did. We arranged for some newpaper interviews and for a slew of radio station interviews. (Note: that might be the first time I've ever used slew in a sentence.)

So, since he's, well, Bob Denver, we arranged for a limo to take him and his manager/friend/lackey around to these stations. And, of course, I was to accompany him as the rep for the station.

What was my job? Basically to make sure he got the station call letters right. Let's face it, the radio stations wanted to talk to him about Gilligan, not about the TV thing. So they would give us one quick plug and then it was more focused on who was hotter, Ginger or Mary Ann.

So there I was, a young lad with a guy I had watched on TV a bazillion times. I wouldn't say I was star struck, but it was very cool to spend some time with the guy. Or so I thought it would be.

I'm not here to bash on someone who is no longer with us (he died a few years ago), but he wasn't the most friendly guy I've ever met.

I mean, he couldn't have been making too much for this appearance (I think he got five grand). And, I'm sure he's been asked the Ginger and Mary Ann question more than he ever wanted, but here he was nonetheless.

Did I mention he was a chain smoker? Yeah. I did. And, yeah, he was. I'm not sure I ever saw him for more than five minutes without a cigarette.

My favorite moments were when we'd walk into the studio and he'd be smoking away. The DJ would say, politely (I mean, again, this was Bob Denver) that the studio was a no smoking place.

"No problem," he'd say, but not put the cigarette out. He didn't care. He was Bob Denver, he'd do what he want.

Everyone wanted pictures and he did that. Again, I think he knew he had to. And he would put on that trademark goofy grin whenever the camera was snapped, but after that, "where's my cigarette."

In the studio, he was great. I mean, this guy could turn it on with the best of them. A song would be playing and he'd be talking to his manager, not stopping to talk as the DJ was going on air. The DJ would be introducing him, asking a question and he's still talking to his manager, until he instantly knew when to answer the question and devote a few seconds to it. Then the segment would end and he'd go right back to the conversation with his manager/lackey and, of course, his cigarette.

The other funny thing was that he brought one of the original Gilligan hats with him. And he'd wear it. Um, on the radio.

So, we rode around to five different radio stations and did the interviews. It was fine. He did his job, promoting the reason why he was there first and then answering all the questions about Gilligan after that.

Oh, and for the record, Gilligan was a Mary Ann man. At least he was that day.

Me? Well, it was cool to meet him and see how he operated, but, all in all, I could have done without the smoke. It was brutal, especially in the limo.

Oh well. It was Gilligan. The Little Buddy. But, on this day, I unfortunately saw more of Bob Denver than I did of Gilligan. And, I gotta tell you, I like Gilligan better.

Some day, kids, I'll even tell you about my Rachel Ray experience. But, as a preview, it wasn't a whole lot better than my Bob Denver experience.

What else? I got nothin'.

100 Things....About Me

2007-08-21T22:43:00.000-04:00

Ok, nobody tagged me. I'm bringing this 100 thing on myself.

Afterall, new people are here. This will give you some idea about me.

Of course, it might also cause you to never return.

I'm willing to take that chance.

Alright...here we go:

1. I was born in the 60s. Barely.
2. I'm a Scorpio.
3. I'm the youngest of four. Or, as my mother says, "the baby."
4. I have a sister and twin brothers. One twin died unexpectedly (age 45) in June.
5. My dad died seven years ago, at 65.
6. My grandmother will be 101 in October.
7. My house was popular in the summer -- we had a pool.
8. I went to Catholic elementary school.
9. I'm now on the school board of said school.
10. I bounce from idea to idea alot -- expect this list to do the same.

11. I'd go back to high school and/or college in a heartbeat.
12. I had perfect attendance my senior year of high school (I know, geek.).
13. I didn't go to my junior prom.
14. I got a bunch of scholarships at graduation.
15. My 20th reunion is next year. I'm planning it.
16. I went to Marist College.
17. I graduated 15 years ago.
18. My first job was at the CIA -- The Culinary Institute of America.
19. I testified at a murder trial.
20. My first 'acting' gig? I was a bluebird in 3rd grade.

21. I'm in a movie. Yes, a real one. It's called Heavy. Stars Liv Tyler.
22. I worked the same summer job through high school and college.
23. I met my wife working at that job.
24. We got married in 1994. We were never going to have kids.
25. Now we have two -- one of each.
26. I now can't believe we didn't want kids.
27. I have three godchildren.
28. I have 3,495 songs on my iPod.
29. I've seen more than 50 bands/artists live in concert.
30. My first concert was KISS. I was 10.

31. We lived in Vermont for six years.
32. I've been a regular 'character' on two radio morning shows, one in Vermont; one in Connecticut.
33. Watch Montel? Maybe you've seen me. I was on his show last year.
34. I'm not sure I can write 100 things about myself.
35. I hate coffee.
36. I love orange juice.
37. I'm 100 percent Coke. Pepsi makes me sick.
38. My gallbladder came out when I was 22.
39. I was the first of my group of friends to get married.
40. I'm actually kind of shy.

41. I'm a lefty.
42. I didn't get my license until I was 19.
43. My first car? A 'vette. Chevette.
44. I'm a New England sports fan. Go Sox. Go Pats. Go Celts.
45. I'm pretty good at what I do.
46. But I sometimes wonder if I should have been a teacher.
47. I cried like a fool at my wedding. Tears of joy, of course.
48. I love fantasy baseball.
49. I can't for the life of me remember movie lines.
50. I can, however, remember song lyrics.

51. I'm a good writer.
52. I make up goofy songs all the time, particuarly to/for my kids.
53. I'm picky.
54. I'm a loyal friend.
55. I like burgers and steak medium rare.
56. I think celery is quite possibly the worst tasting thing. Ever.
57. I kind of like this blogging thing.
58. I've been to 15 major league ballparks.
59. I'm an aggressive driver.
60. I expect good customer service.

61. I will fight for principle.
62. Show Boat is my favorite musical.
63. I've worn glasses since I was one.
64. My right index finger is the same size as either of my two pinky fingers.
65. I will never drink Bacardi again. (Long story.)
66. I can't fix anything.
67. I do, however, write a great letter or note.
68. I miss playing golf as much as I used to.
69. I still don't know why I didn't have TiVo as soon as it came out.
70. I'm doing the best I can at this dad thing. :)

71. I was crying so much, I couldn't cut my son's embilical cord.
72. I did cut my daughter's, and, I gotta say, I felt a little guilty.
73. At times I wish I was a more patient parent.
74. Every now and then, I think about auditioning for some community theater.
75. I have a crush on Kristin Chenoweth.
76. I hate hockey.
77. I have a candy corn collection. (Don't worry, you'll learn about it soon.)
78. My most amazing concert experience? Being 20 feet from Bono's mic at a Boston U2 show.
79. I wish I didn't, but I bite my nails.
80. I want to go back to Ireland.

81. I already love the thought of taking my kids to Disney in a few years.
82. I once surpised my wife in Italy. She was chaperoning a trip. I just showed up.
83. I drove all summer without air conditioning in my car.
84. I do my best work under deadline.
85. I don't do incredibly well on ladders.
86. I wish I was 40 pounds lighter.
87. I sometimes wish I was better organized.
88. I don't use a straw.
89. My favorite dressing is thousand island.
90. I still have the baseball cards I collected as a kid.

91. I'm very picky when it comes to comedy. I don't think Will Ferrell is funny.
92. I do think Steven Wright is hilarious, however.
93. I want my kids to be as proud of me as I will be of them.
94. I'm probably into Thomas the Tank Engine as much as my three-year-old.
95. I once rode around all day in a limo with Bob Denver. (You'll hear about it sometime!)
96. I'm the in-game DJ for a professional sports team.
97. I usually only need five hours of sleep per night.
98. I pray that my nephew comes home safely from Iraq.
99. We go to church regularly.
100. I can't decide which remaining nugget to end with!

Phew!

What else? I definitely got nothin' now.

Be Careful What You Wish For....

2007-08-21T22:28:00.001-04:00

Wow.

So this is how the other half of the blogging world lives?

I've got readers. At least I've got readers these last two days. So, thanks to Clink and Molly and those that have linked me in their recent posts. This is kind of cool.

But, yikes. Now the pressure is on.

I must deliver for you, my (hopefully) growing readership.

And I am going to do my best to fulfill your need of getting nothin'.

I'm not sure I'm ready to commit to the daily post, but I am going to work harder at being more on top of my came. Because, I mean, people are watching now!

Since you're probably learning about me, I'm going to work on one of those crazy "100 things about me" posts. Who knows how long that'll take, but that's what will come next.

Then, who knows where it goes from there.

But, wherever it goes, I hope you're with me.

Thanks for checking in. Really.

What else? I got nothin'.

Of Garbage Cans, Bobbleheads and Old Magazines

2007-08-20T11:24:00.001-04:00

So I've discovered two cool elements to this blogging thing.

First, you learn a lot about your friends who also happen to blog. And, as a result, they learn a lot about you.

Secondly, you become BFs with others. BFs you ask? I'm making it up right now. Blog Friends. Therefore, from now on, I must be credited each time you use that. Well, anyway.

One of my BFs, Clink, is fun to read. Now she's younger than me. Dare I say it, she's a generation behind me. However, she wrote something recently that I felt like I just had to follow up with a post of my own.

You can read her post here.

My point in writing this is to help her understand her fiance's point of view. And, I'm not just helping Clink, I'm helping all like her. Or at least I'm trying to.

If you don't pop over to read Clink's take, and you should, the point is simple: she and her fiance will be merging assets. He has a Patriots garbage can. He wants it. She doesn't. More importantly, I think it's safe to say that she doesn't understand why he would still want it.

That's where I come in.

It is so much more than just a garbage can. And that might be the hardest thing for Clink or anyone in her situation to grasp.

I'm not even sure I can tell you what it is. But it is oh so much more than a garbage can. In terms of the Patriots, that garbage can represents a lifelong journey as a fan. We were down in the dumps (um, no pun intended, seriously) for so long. And now we are the pinnacle. That garbage can is a part of that. To get rid of it, well, who knows what would happen then.

That garbage can represents hours and hours of hope, loss, disappointment and excitement. I know, you think I'm kidding. But, go ahead. Watch a game with a Patriot fan. Tell me that's not true. But it's not just Patriot fans. It's any fan. Or, should I say, it's any guy fan.

We (um, guys) hold our teams in highest regard. We want to have symbols of those teams with us -- and that's anything from t-shirts, hats, mouse pads and, well, garbage cans.

The same goes for bobbleheads and even old issues of Sports Illustrated. I've got stacks of them. Have I ever gone back to read them? Well, no, who has the time? But, I will get back to them at some point. I mean, you don't expect me to remember every play from the 2004 World Series or one of the Patriots Super Bowls, do you? Yeah, I know. You do. But, just in case I don't, I've got Sports Illustrated there to help me remember the key moments -- and to have them forever in pictures.

It's like my favorite blanket. It's a Red Sox World Series blanket. Whenever the feet need a little covering while watching TV, out comes the Red Sox blanket -- not any of the others we have. Why use those when I can use the Red Sox blanket?

While I don't have a Patriots garbage can (attention, Santa), I do have a Red Sox garbage can. Now, of course I don't use it. Again, not the point. The point is that I have it and that I could use it if I wanted to. This Red Sox garbage can was used early on, but maybe my diryting it hindered the team's chances? Hey, you never know.

I mean, since I stopped using it as an actual garbage can, they go on and win the World Series. I'm not going to tempt the gods. That garbage can will never be used as a garbage can again.

But, regardless of what it is used for, it's mine. And I love it. My wife doesn't say anything about it. She doesn't say anything about the bobbleheads. Or even the old Sports Illustrated issues.

She doesn't say anything about that. And I don't say anything about her shoes.

And that's the beauty of marriage. Compromise.

What else? I got nothin'.

Aidanisms

2007-08-16T11:27:00.000-04:00

Ok, so my three year old, Aidan, is all about talking and conversations now.

Renee and I can't have a conversation without him saying, "cuse me (he can't say the 'ex'), what are you talking about?"

I think it's annoying. But then I think, well, he is saying excuse me, so we've done something right.

Here are a couple of recent conversations I had with him -- of course centered on poop.

Now, I should say that poop is a big topic in our house because he's (finally) using the potty for that. Of course, it's the potty that was at my in-laws, so when he goes he says that he has to use Mimi's potty. I don't care whose potty it is, as long as he's going. And he is.

So I sit down for dinner last night and Renee says to Aidan, "Tell Daddy what vegetable you tried today."

"Pepper, daddy."

"Mmm. I love peppers. Wasn't it good?"

"No. I spit it out in the toilet and flushed it and its down in the septic tank now."

Dramatic pause.

"Might be stuck in a poop."

Yes, we were cracking up hysterically.

This morning at the breakfast table it starts like this:

"Have to go poop, daddy."

"Ok, bud, let's go upstairs to the potty."

As we walk upstairs he stops, turns to me and says:

"It might be a big mushy gushy one."

"Ok, well you let me know."

After he comes out, I say:

"So how'd things go?"

"Good," he said. "It looked like a boot."

What else? I got nothin'.

Am I the Greatest Boss or What?

2007-08-14T15:29:00.000-04:00

First of all...stop the presses. Look at me doing two posts in one day.

Ok, now back to your regularly scheduled blogging.

So, Molly is out today. Not only does she work for me. But she works next to me. Yup, we share an office. A small office. An office in a building that was built in 1841. An office where the floors aren't exactly, um, level.

We had a great office. The best office in the building. But then we got a new boss. And he wanted that for his space. I honestly can't blame him, because it was great space. And Molly and I are team players and all that, so we moved.

But we weren't happy about it. "From the penthouse to the outhouse" was our saying.

But, again, I digress.

So she's out today. She had a pretty rough migraine yesterday (no doubt brought on by either the super rich and delicious brownies Anna made or the hot fudge sundae provided by Larisa). So, she left early. And called out today.

And that's fine with me. She works hard. She deserves a day. I get migraines, so I know how ridiculous they can be.

My general theory is, get your work done and I don't care what you do. Call in sick. Work on your blog. Whatever. Just get the work done. We have to get along. Why? Well, did I mention our office?

Anyway...what I've discovered in the last couple of hours is how good it can actually be when Molly's not here.

For example, I can put the AC on high cool and not worry if she's really cold. It's a male/female thing. I like the office cold. She probably doesn't like it as cold as me, but that's no problem today. It's freezin' in here and I like it!

I can also shake my leg all I want. No, I'm not a dog, but I'm probably a good candidate, really, for restless leg syndrome. I am constantly shaking a leg up and down. Only when you're in a building constructed in 1841 with crooked floors there can be issues.

Let's just say that whenever I shake my leg -- and in thise case, only my right leg -- Molly's entire desk shakes, but most particularly her monitor, causing her to have to say, "You're shaking" or "Foot" or somthing to get me to stop, or at the very least, to switch feet. Sometimes, I don't even know I'm doing it. I just do.

So, no worries about shaking today. I've been shaking up a storm in a very cold office. And you know what, it's been great.

But, that doesn't mean Molly isn't missed. She is. I mean, I swore I thought of her one time today. Probably when I was having another sundae and thinking, "I bet Molly isn't having one of these today!"

What else? I got nothin'.

This is Nuts

2007-08-14T12:39:00.000-04:00

So guess what I had in my lunch today?

(Yes, Clink, it's a good thing to bring your lunch. Helps cut down on those take-out trips.)

Left over home made mac and cheese (a Renee specialty). Watermelon. Yogurt (Dannon Light Lemon Chiffon -- the only kind I'll eat. Not that I'm picky.). A bottle of water.

And, for dessert?

Dora cookies. Yup, you know, Dora, Dora, Dora the Explorer.

My son has watched Dora for more than a year now. And, I've got to say, it's good TV for kids, first in terms of the stories and secondly for its bilingual speech. Kind of cool how they do it.

And, as a father of two, I gotta tell you this, nobody is better at marketing than the folks at Dora. Walk through a supermarket and Dora is on everything. I couldn't believe it until I actually started paying attention to this stuff.

She, of course, is on cookies. Yummy almost animal cracker-like cookies. Delicious cookies, in fact. My favorite one is the cookie in the shape of Boots the Monkey. You don't know Boots the Monkey? What planet are you from? Boots is Dora's best friend. Because, who doesn't have a monkey as a best friend. First it was Eastwood, now it's Dora. Makes perfect sense to me.

Anyway, well, by now you want to know why I had a bag of Dora cookies for dessert today.

I had them because of five little words my wife discovered on the label:

May contain traces of tree nuts.

A month ago and that would have meant nothing. However, now that Aidan has been officially deemed allergic to tree nuts, we have to know this stuff. And that, apparently, means reading labels on things you wouldn't normally read.

I mean, nuts in Dora cookies? No, but possibly nuts used in the same factory or something like that.

But, let me tell you, once the doctor prescribes an Epi-Pen for you to walk around with wherever you are with your child, you're not into taking risks about this stuff -- even if he hasn't had any issues with Dora cookies before.

I'll spare you the story of what led us to discover Aidan was allergic, but the corresponding bloodwork did confirm the tree nut allergy, with an overwhelming allergic response to pistachios and cashews.

Our biggest concern was peanut butter. And, for the time when we waited for the results, Aidan couldn't have any type of nut whatsoever (per doc's orders). Now, he's back to his beloved peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Thank goodness for that!

So, some research for us to do -- learning more about this tree nut thing. He's been great about it, even asking the other night if watermellon has nuts in it.

But, in the meantime, or at least until the bag is finished, I'll be enjoying my fair share (and then some) of Dora cookies.

What else? I got nothin'.

Fifty and Fabulous...But I Want More...I Think!

2007-08-10T16:05:00.000-04:00

OK. So, I'm fifty and fabulous.

No, I don't have an AARP card. Rather, yesterday was a highlight for me. How so? Let me explain.

Fifty of you came to read my blog yesterday!

Can I get a woo-hoo?! Excellent. Thank you.

Then, well, why am I depressed? Well, depressed is too strong a word.

I think I'm blog jealous.

Let me explain.

I started this for me. Really. But, since you started coming, I kind of like it. I want more of you to come and check things out. That's not such a bad thing, right?

My average viewers per day has climbed, believe it or not, all the way to 35 people a day! Can you stand it? I know, knock me down!

But, hey, 35 is more than 15.

But, 917 is also way more than 35. That's how many people came to read Molly the other day.

Now, don't get me wrong, Molly's good. Real good. I know. I hired her.

Still, that's a lot of people. But, she comments all over the place. And, the key, she's a she. And a young she. And those types of shes, it seems, are big bloggers. And I'm fine with that.

She has a defined audience. Which also helps.

Me? Scattered. Completely scattered.

One day I'm writing about my kids. One day about my brother. One day about music. One day about my flooded basement. One day about sports. I'm all over the place. And, just so you know, I will one day be writing about my day with Bob Denver! You can't escape it!

And, here's the thing, I can relate to the young twenty something bloggers, but are they going to relate to me on a regular basis? Not sure.

What about blogging daddies? Well, if there are some, I'm sure I can relate to that group, but will they relate to me on a regular basis? I don't know.

It's weird. I want to be read. I really do. But at the same time, I don't care about it. Does that make any sense at all?

I've always been one to have a very tight circle of friends. And I love that. Maybe that's what this is going to be for me, too. And that's OK. Because, after all, I did start this for me. Not for you.

And, even with my little circle of blog friends, it's been a cool way to learn more about them -- even learning more about those I talk to every day. But, this blogging thing has allowed us to share and learn more about each other than I could have imagined. And that's a cool thing.

So, while I, of course, would welcome more readers, I'm thrilled with what I have. I really am. I mean, here we are. I think for the moment that I'm just as happy going with quality over quantity.

What else? I got nothin'.

A Kid Update

2007-08-09T22:53:00.000-04:00

I'm already becoming that parent. You know, the kind that no longer takes pictures of his kids.

That said, this picture was taken on my cellphone. The story is below.

I hate that parent. I need to stop being that parent. The camera hasn't been clicked in about 10 days, so I really don't have anything new to show you. Particularly of Erin -- who since her birth June 10 has sprouted into a real live little girl.

Of course, she wasn't happy today at her two-month appointment. Three shots. Two in one leg, one in another. I couldn't go because of work stuff, but Renee says she had a pretty good scream and then settled down. She's sleeping soundly tonight already, so it could have taken a lot out of her.

But, in terms of measurements, did I mention she's growing?

She was born at 8 pounds even and 22 inches long.

She's now just shy of 14 pounds and is two feet tall (well, long). That's the 95th percentile in both height and weight.

She smiles now, too, which is cool. Hopefully I can catch one of those on camera soon. She's definitely got her own little personality going, which is pretty cool. And, heck, ask Anna or Molly, but she almost rolled over last night, too.

Of course, they, and others, were only able to see her last night when she was out of her carrier and the stroller. You see, big brother Aidan is quite protective of his little sister. Her carrier has its own mini canopy on it. And, well, if she's in the carrier and you want to see her, good luck.

Step close and Aidan is watching you -- so much that he comes over and covers her face with the canopy, refusing to let go and putting his body in front of it, too, so you can't see her.

"He's just very protective," we say.

He loves her though. No doubt about that. He had "100 questions" for the doctor today when he went to her appointment. He wanted to know when she would talk, when she would crawl, when she would walk and when she would be ready to play with him.

We're working very hard on the sharing thing. It's a challenge. Probably the biggest one I think we've dealt with, including more stressful than the whole poop thing.

Until recently, he wouldn't poop on the toilet here. Only at my in-laws. But, the last couple days, he has done it here.

He even called me today to say, and this is a direct quote:

Daddy, I did a super duper big mushy gushy one on the potty! I flushed it down the toilet right into the septic tank. That's where it is!

Yup, that's my boy.

A big milestone was crossed Wednesday morning for him, too.

The dentist!

After having a rough morning, we almost didn't go to the appointment. I think Renee and I were both concerned how he would do, given his morning behavior.

But, he did great! His only challenge was sitting in the chair. Not sitting in it, per se, but trusting that he wasn't going to fall out when he put his head back and the hygenist adjusted the chair.

Once he got that down, no worries at all -- despite a little nervous look on his face. He opened super wide when he was asked and really enjoyed having his teeth polished -- mainly because he picked out the grape flavored toothpaste.

And, when he was done, he looked at the hygenist and said, "Where are the prizes?"

Pictures soon. I promise!

What else? I got nothin'.

For Tim

2007-08-07T15:23:00.000-04:00

For the newcomers to this blog, my brother, Tim, died unexpectedly June 16.

This blog was my emotional release during that time. If you want, take a look back in the archives and learn more about my brother and the emotional time it was for me and the rest of my family.

One of the revelations of the entire process was learning about the side of Tim I didn't know. His work side. It was amazing to hear all the stories from his colleagues about his professionalism, his sense of humor and his overall performance.

I knew he worked in wire and cable, but I didn't know much more -- until today. My family and I went to his workplace for a ceremony this morning.

In the picture above, you'll see a gorgeous red maple they planted in his memory. There's also a stone there, too, with a nice tribute to him.

This manufacturing plant basically stopped for 10 minutes this morning while folks came out to pay a tribute to my brother. One of his colleagues said a few words, as did my mom and me. We had a moment of silence in his honor, too.

Very simple. Very meaningful.

Then, we got a tour of the plant. And, while I still don't know exactly what he did, I can say proudly that he ran this operation of more than 100 people and it was impressive to see. And the guy who showed us around was saying how Tim knew everything about all of these machines -- more than I could count doing things I've never seen before. That he knew everyone by name and that he was constantly having fun -- all while being productive.

We heard more stories about him from the people that worked for him. All funny. All touching. All to be remembered. And for that I am thankful.

Perhaps the best comment I've received yet came from another colleague. The plant makes all sort of wire, including fiber optic cable and other stuff that gets used for computer networks and such. So, as I sit here at my desk, it's possible that the wire connecting my computer to our network could have been made by my brother's plant.

With that in mind, his colleague asked me if I enjoyed my visit to the plant.

"I enjoyed it immensely, but I still don't understand it," I joked.

"Just think of your brother every time you turn on your computer," she said.

So simple. So hokey. But, you know what, incredibly comforting.

Lucky 13

2007-08-05T22:33:00.000-04:00

There's nothing superstitious about the number 13 for me. Especially this year.

The above picture was taken 13 years ago -- August 6, 1994. The day I became the luckiest man in the world. Yeah, I said it. The world.

As I sit here and type this, I can't even fathom all that has gone on in those 13 years. All I know is I couldn't have made it on my own. And, fortunately, I didn't have to. Renee has been by my side. Each step of the way.

We've created life. We've endured death. We've started new jobs. We've built a house. We've moved from one state to another. From the happiest moment to the hardest, it's only been one way -- together.

Can't really ask for more than that.

My only hope today? That she believes I've lived up to my end of the deal as much as she's lived up to hers. I certainly have tried. But, I gotta tell you, she sets a mean example.

She has seen me at my best -- and at my worst. She has put up with so much -- and then some. And I'll never be able to express how appreciative I am.

She's an unbelievable teacher.

She's an amazing mother.

She's an incredible wife.

But, mostly, she's a fabulous friend.

Happy 13th Anniversary, Renee.

Love you. Mega.

What else? I got nothin'.

That's What I Like About....Me

2007-08-01T23:50:00.000-04:00

Well, I've been tagged again. Molly did it. Only this time she wants me to write about 10 things I like about myself. Hmmm. Interesting.

Ok, let's see what we can come up with here -- in no particular order:

1. I'm a great dad. Honestly, better than I thought I'd be. I've got work to do, but for a guy who didn't want anything to do with kids, I think I'm doing pretty well. I'm not nearly as good as the mother of my children (who happens to be my wife!), but I'm trying hard. I really am. I can, and someday I will, spend post after post on how cool it is to be a dad.

2. I'm a great husband. Just ask Renee. She'll tell you! Or at least I hope she will. We're celebrating 13 years next week. That just blows me away. It really does. The key? We were friends first. Great friends. And, you know what? We still are.

3. I'm a good son. Ask my mom for her feelings, but I think she'd agree. At least I hope she would! Yeah, she would. Right?! Never caused my parents any trouble -- or at least none that they let on about. They raised me in such away that I strived to succeed by not disappointing them. And I don't mean that in any negative way. Basically, if I worked to my capacity, they would never be disappointed, regardless of the result. I hope I can instill that into my kids.

4. I'm a good writer. Well, you're here, aren't you? Got the writing gene from my mom and couldn't be happier about it. I believe in the thank you note, a well-written letter, and I'll spend an hour working on the same paragraph, just to make sure I said it in the best possible way. This paragraph alone took two hours. :)

5. I'm good at my job. I'm a publicist. I'm a news junky, which helps in the job because I understand what the media thinks is and isn't important. I've gotten great results wherever I've been, and I'm in a great position now, despite all the griping I do. It really is a good gig.

6. I'm a great friend. I've never been one to have a large circle of friends. I prefer a smaller tight-knit style group. And I've got that. Amazing friends. And, I believe they would say the same about me. I can't say it any simpler than it's about being there for each other. For anything. Plain and simple. No questions asked. My friends do that for me. I do it for them.

7. I'm funny. Well, I try to be. Not laugh-out-loud funny. More subtle, dry wit funny. I seem to be able to make people laugh and smile -- so I'm going with it.

8. I'm involved. Probably too much, but, oh well. I'm getting ready to plan my 20th high school reunion. I'm on the school board of my Catholic elementary school. I'm the head of my church's Parish Council. And I'm sure there's one or two more that I can't think of. Basically, it's about giving back. I've taken a lot....now it's time to give back. And that's what I try to do.

9. I'm a sensitive sap. I can't help it. I just am.

10. I've got a great ass. I mean, come on, have you seen it?! :)

There you have it. Ten, er, nine and a half things I like about myself!

Thanks for listening.

It's Monday...and I'm Rambling

2007-07-30T10:07:00.001-04:00

So, you have spoken. Dylan is your favorite 90210 character. Can't really say as though I blame you. Figured it would be between Dylan and Kelly -- but since more women read this than men, I understand the results. And I'm ok with that.

I held off on the favorite Melrose Place character poll. That'll come though. And soon. I just didn't want to do them back to back. Although, speaking of back to back, when they were on FOX one after the other, I'm not sure I've ever been happier in front of the TV.

It's hot. Not just hot. Humid. I hate humidity. It does such things to my hair. Sorry, just was trying to relate to the readership! :)

So we've been thinking about changing the name of my son to Sybil. He's like the weather in Vermont. Don't like it? That's ok, it'll change in two minutes. I don't mean this to be cruel at all, but the fact is, we're having difficulty with two things -- poops and sharing.

He will only poop on the toilet at my mother-in-law's -- no matter what we try to bribe him with. It's hard to "don't worry about it, just let it run its course." We know he can do it. He knows he can do it. But I guess it's just a control thing.

The other thing is sharing. One minute he's threatening to "hide all my toys" and the next minute he's offering his juice around to anyone and everyone. Again, he gets it, but he's just not into this sharing thing completely.

I know we'll get there, but it can be extremely frustrating and it tries your (well, mine) patience (as well as Renee's) incredibly so. But, we're hanging in there. These, I guess, are the trying threes. Perhaps our punishment since we never dealt with the terrible twos.

Erin, who is filling out like a little linebacker, has smiled -- but not for me. Mom, Aunt Steph and Aidan have seen it. But not daddy -- at least not yet.

Some of my favorite Aidanisms over the last couple of days:

His 8-year-old cousin Collin is visiting. They were getting changed to go in the pool. Both naked at the time and Aidan says, "Why is his penis bigger than mine?"

And, staying with that same theme, I was going the bathroom and the door was open. Aidan was down the hall. He heard me going (um, I was standing, not grunting....) and came running down to, um, watch?

"Where's the potty coming from, daddy?"

"My penis, Aidan, just like when you go."

Turning his head for a better look, he says, "That's a big one, daddy."

You know, these sharing issues don't seem so bad after all!

What else? I got nothin'.

Joey, Justin and Lance Would be Pleased...

2007-07-24T12:37:00.000-04:00

...to know that you, the readers of I Got Nothin', have voted N'Sync as your favorite boy band of all time, edging out the Backstreet Boys and New Kids on the Block. I'm sorry to say that nobody cast a vote for LFO. Shocking.

So, I have no idea what questions are going to come up on this poll, but for today's edition, we're going back to one of TV's alltime greatest shows.

That's right. I could only be talking about Beverly Hills, 90210.

Admit it. The theme song is going in your head right now.

What else? I got nothin'.

It's Too Quiet Around Here

2007-07-23T00:02:00.000-04:00

So my family is on a road trip. Only, I'm not with them.

Yup, my wife, my three-year-old son and my six-week-old daughter are in Vermont. Joining them is my wife's sister, who is visiting from Florida for a couple of weeks.

They left Sunday morning. I was then busy until about 6 p.m. Sunday night. But when I got home, instead of finding my son playing with his trains and my wife most likely feeding my daughter, I found, well, nothing. Except left overs in the fridge.

So they are in Vermont visiting my wife and her sister's favorite aunt. They have an amazing house on, basically, a farm. Just picturesque Vermont. But, I've got work and other stuff going on, so I didn't make the trip.

Now I'm wishing I had. I like my time, don't get me wrong.

But did I mention how quiet it is?

There are some pros -- like I can have the air conditioner on all night, I can leave the dishes until the morning, I can wait on the laundry (as long as I get it done before they get home).

But there are three obvious cons -- the people I love the most aren't here. But, they'll be back soon enough. Plenty to keep me busy.

There's no debating with my son about whether or not we're going to read two, three, four or more books for bed. But, there's also no going in his room to check on him and just watch him there in his loft bed, breathing peacefully and recharging his batteries for another day on the go.

There's no changing one diaper for my daughter and end up changing three at one time because she wasn't really done with her poop afterall. But, there's also no falling asleep with her on my chest as we rock the day away.

There's no picking up all the laundry for my wife to put in one or two loads at night. But, there's also nobody to spoon with when I rollover in the middle night.

Renee, Aidan, Erin. Enjoy Vermont. Take lots of pictures.

But do me one favor.

Hurry home.

What else? I got nothin'.

Mixing It Up a Bit

2007-07-19T21:36:00.000-04:00

Ok, so who noticed that I changed my color scheme on here a couple of weeks ago?

It's ok if you didn't. I still like you.

The fact is, more people are coming here (and probably wondering why once they've made it), so it seemed like I should spruce the place up a bit.

You'll also noticed that I've added a poll feature to the right.

If you're wondering what brought about the first question, let me explain.

Molly and I usually have music on in the office throughout the day. And it usually comes off my iPod.

We had a little BSB going the other day, which then caused me to switch to NKOTB and then finally to LFO.

I'm a guy in my mid-30s. Got a problem with me liking boy bands? Good!

So, not sure what type of questions will go up there from time to time, but it'll be fun to get your answers. So, have at it!

What else? I got nothin'.

Crazy Eights

2007-07-16T00:27:00.000-04:00

Well, this blogging thing has been pretty crazy for me lately. First, I was a guest blogger for Molly while she was on vacation (in Vegas).

Now, I've been tagged. And, in the process of tagging me, Anna has described me as big time.

Can the bar be set any higher than that? I'm thinking not.

Apparently this act of being tagged or tagging is something about a meme. Beats me. I may be big time, but I don't understand all of this blogging terminology all the time. All I know is that it's called Crazy Eights, and I'm supposed to tell you eight things about me.

I have to post these rules before I give up the goods. Each player starts with eight random facts or habits about themselves. People who are tagged are now obliged to write an entry telling us eight things about themselves and post these rules. At the end of your blog entry, tag eight new, unsuspecting bloggers and list their names. (Oh, and leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged JUST IN CASE they missed that day on your blog.)

1. I'm in a movie. A real movie, actually. It's called Heavy. Good chance you haven't seen it. But it does exist! It stars Shelley Winters, Pruitt Taylor Vince, Liv Tyler and Debbie Harry. I was working in New York at the time, for the The Culinary Institute of America. The movie was being filmed in New York and the director wanted Vince's character, an aspiring chef, to come on a tour of the CIA. I was one of two people working with the film crew on everything. When it came time for the scene, they needed a tour guide. That would be me. So, during the movie, if you can find it somewhere, you'll see me briefly on screen, but you'll hear my voice for about two minutes. This is all midway through the film. And, maybe you haven't seen Heavy, but you have seen more from the director. Check out what else he's done. And to think it all started with me!

2. I once rode around in a limo all day with Bob Denver. You know, Gilligan. I'd tell you the story, but when I offered before, nobody cared.

3. I love live music. Love going to concerts. My first concert was Kiss. I was 10, if you can believe it. The last concert I saw was Cheap Trick. You'll see my taste in music varies wildly as I list for you other bands/artists I've seen live: U2, Bon Jovi, Eagles, Poison, Cinderella, Warrant, Ratt, Winger, Tiffany, Cheap Trick, Robert Plant, Bob Seger, Whitesnake, The Alarm, REM, Tom Petty, Brian Setzer, Eddie Money, Pat Benatar, Kansas, Matchbox Twenty, Sugar Ray, 38 Special, Van Halen, Scorpions, Metallica, Dokken, Michael Buble, Whitney Houston, Kenny G, Five for Fighting, Goo Goo Dolls, The Bangles, Peter, Paul and Mary, Aerosmith, Richard Marx, Allman Brothers, Dennis DeYoung, Mike & the Mechanics, The Outfield, The Hooters, Barenaked Ladies, Billy Joel, Elton John, Celine Dion, The Corrs, Firehouse, Def Leppard, Gavin DeGraw, George Winston, Heart, Huey Lewis & the News, Indigo Girls, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, Jewel, Journey, Kristin Chenoweth, Motley Crue, Sugarland and Train.

4. I'm addicted to fantasy baseball. I play in two leagues (down from three). I've been playing for almost 20 years.

5. I might have the worst skin ever. Very sensitive. Very dry. Hate shaving -- but will never grow a beard.

6. I don't read as many books as I should -- or would like. Usually, I read in streaks. If I manage to pick something up, I buzz through it and then want another one right away. But, right now, as I write this, I can't tell you the last book I read.

7. If I was a celebrity and was chosen to be on Dancing with the Stars, I'd want Cheryl or Edyta as my partner.

8. I was one of the last people (Matt, who is tagged below, is the other) to play on my all-time favorite mini golf course before it was sold at auction. I have such good memories from there, that I bought things from the place at auction -- including part of the 18th hole, which was a clown's face where you could get strokes taken off your score depending on whether you put the ball in the clown's nose, mouth or eyes. It sits in a basement now, and it's something that I'll never be able to get rid of.

Ok, so now you know a bit more about me. Still like me?

I'm going to break the rules a bit. I'm not going to tag eight people. Truthfully, I may be big time, but I don't have eight good people to tag. Besides, Anna took two of my would-be taggers. So, I'm giving you what I've got.

First, I tag Matt. He has no problem making lists about movies or songs, so giving up eight things about himself shouldn't be hard. Besides, he hasn't posted in a while and he needs to keep it going.

Next up is John, a dear friend from college with a unique perspective on life. You'll see what I'm talking about when you learn more about him.

Hallie's next. She's new to the blogging world. I find her incredibly funny, and she's a great friend. She's a single mom raising three kids, so I'm not sure when she'll get to this, but I have faith.

I'm going to do half the job -- literally. I'm tagging four. And, the fourth is someone I met in person only one time. She has, however, one of the coolest names. Her name is Nova, and her blog is here. Nova is a great friend of Christine, whom I would have tagged if Anna didn't already do it. So, Nova, you're the one I'm going out on a limb to tag. Hope you don't mind!

Ok. What else? I got nothin'.

Nothing Specific

2007-07-09T23:33:00.000-04:00

Ok, so I just sat here for five minutes thinking of a title for this post. And, like the title of this entire blog, I got nothin'.

I feel as though I should, however. Lots going on around these parts. So, for this installment, just a few ramblings for you.

One thing is true. I am reaching a new level in this whole blogging thing.

I wouldn't quite say I'm hitting the big time, but it's damn close. Well, ok, maybe not damn close. Maybe just close.

If you don't know, Molly works for me. She's technically my assistant, but it's not like she gets me coffee or anything. Besides, I don't even drink coffee.

Well, those that are regulars to this wonderful land of my blogging life have Molly to thank for me actually being here.

And, well, Molly's on vacation this week. She's off to Vegas, in fact. Oh, how I love the Vegas.

So, before she left, Molly asked me to be a guest blogger on her site, which you can find here.

I mean, how in the world could I pass that up? She blogs like there's no tomorrow. She could have picked a lot of people. But she picked me. I think that's pretty cool. The only problem? In the rotation, I'm up after her mom. Talk about a tough act to follow. I gave it my all, however.

So, faithful readers, new readers, heck, any readers, be sure to head over here to check out my guest spot Tuesday. I'm guessing it'll be posted early Tuesday afternoon.

Ok, now that it took me forever to get that out of the way. A few more random things from me.

My sister-in-law arrives Tuesday from Florida. Think your chocolate chip cookies are good? You haven't had hers. Best. Ever. Bar. None.

Doctor's appointment today for the newest edition to our family. She's grown an inch and put on two pounds. Woo-hoo.

Dentist for me tomorrow (Tuesday as you read this). Love going to the dentist. Why? Because he's a Yankee fan, and I'm a Sox fan. It's good to go in there when leading the race.

Today (Monday) is my Dad's birthday. He would have been 73. Miss you, Dad.

Humidity and I don't get along. Yet I still haven't gotten my car's AC fixed (it hasn't worked since last August). Pathetic, I know.

So we all went to Erin's doctor's appointment today. The doc was running late, so we were reading books with Aidan while we waited. Erin was perfectly content to just chill out on the exam table.

There were five or six books in the exam room. We'd read one, and then Aidan would ask us to get another book -- a good one. As I was pulling them out to show him, I came across the classic story of Cinderella.

"That's for girls, Daddy."

Ok.

This last thought is a little gross. But, I'm sorry. I can't resist. I mentioned to someone that I had to "take a dump" today. This person, who I might add, is female, raised an incredible question I've never even considered. And, candidly, I'm shocked this hasn't come up anywhere before.

"Why do we 'take a dump'," she asked. "We're not taking anything. In fact, we're leaving something!"

I can't think of anything more brilliant than that. ;)

So what else? I got nothin'.

Aidan's First Movie Adventure

2007-07-06T13:31:00.001-04:00

Our son Aidan is three.

Oh, and you should also know, he's the cutest three-year-old you'll ever meet. Smartest, too.

(What did you expect me to say about him?!)

That aside, ever since he turned three, I've wanted to take him to his first movie. For some reason, that seemed the right age. Now we just needed the right movie.

Enter Ratatouille. (Not even sure if I spelled that right nor not. Honestly, too lazy to look it up.)

I certainly didn't expect him to grab the entire plot and all it had to offer, but the idea of a big screen, popcorn, animation and, more importantly, a first-time experience with my son, was really what I was after.

So we went Sunday afternoon. It was a no nap day, but I figured a new experience would give a new perspective on the day. Usually no nap days can get dangerous in the late afternoon. This was a gamble I was well aware of, but I decided to take the risk anyway.

While we were driving up, he kept asking about popcorn. I told him we could probably get some, but that we were going to have some animal crackers first. Successfully smuggled in animal crackers, I might add.

The previews were on when we found our seats. Stadium style, so we had to climb up a few rows to get to the great seats. On the aisle, of course, in anticipation of any early exit needs.

I should mention, too, that my son is a huge Thomas the Tank Engine fan. And, on his t-shirt were two Thomas stickers. This will matter in a minute. Honest.

As the previews played, Aidan's first question, in between bites of cracker was, "This the movie, Daddy?"

"Not yet, bud, but it's coming soon." I then explained what a preview was. Or at least I tried to.

So the movie starts and he's busily snacking on the crackers and sipping his juice. And, I think he was actually enjoying the show.

I pulled the bag of crackers away after a bit (this would turn out to be my move of the day).

A few minutes later, he asks, "Popcorn now, daddy?"

Just a minute, I reply, hoping he'll forget it, but knowing he won't.

Two more minutes. "Now, daddy?"

"Sure, bud, let's go."

We left our seats and went out to the concession area. I spent $7.50 for a small popcorn and soda. We went back to our seats. He seemed to like this 'mission.'

We climbed to our seats, I took a sip of the soda, a bite of the popcorn and handed some to him.

Tears.

"I don't like it," as only a three-year-old could whine.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't like it."

OK, so, like I said, score points for me for saving a few animal crackers. They came in quite handy and everything seemed ok for another 15 minutes.

More tears.

"What's wrong?"

"Thomas stickers aren't sticking anymore."

I told you they would be important!

I held on to the stickers for another five minutes.

No tears this time. But, instead it was, "We go now?"

"You sure?"

"We go now?"

He's sure.

Other than the popcorn and sticker dilemmas, I'm still counting this as a successful trip. We were about an hour and 10 minutes in, which is the longest he's watched anything, so I was pretty happy.

But, come on, at the same point, I was like, "Yeah, I'm the parent that the other parents are probably saying, 'Who takes someone that young to the movies?' or 'Look at that poor guy, having to take his kid home.'"

It didn't matter though. Who cares what they think.

We're halfway out of the theater and he says, "Can I have my stickers?"

"Sure, here they are."

But, here was one, not the other. I lost it. Or, as it turns out, I misplaced it. We, of course, couldn't leave without both of them. A few steps retracing our path and I found it. Thank God.

We weren't two steps out of the door when my favorite line of the day came out.

"We go back now, daddy? Movie still playing?"

So he did like it!!!

"It sure is, bud, but we can't go back now. Another time."

"Ok."

"What was your favorite part?"

"The big screen. And the waterfall."

There was no waterfall, but there was a scene with rats being rushed through a sewer system, so that was his waterfall.

Ten minutes later, driving home:

"We go back, daddy?"

"Another time, bud."

Defintely another time.

What else? I got nothin'.

I'd Like to Thank the Academy...

2007-07-03T22:57:00.000-04:00

I rock.

Don't just take my word for it. Take Molly's.

After all, today she dubbed me a Rockin' Blogger. I'm not really sure what that means, other than that she likes my stuff and now a bunch of her readers have been here to check me out.

I know you've been here. I've been watching you!

Just hope that you've found something to come back and visit from time to time. And, hey, I love comments as much as the next guy.

So, thanks, Molly, for passing it along. Thanks Molly's readers for checking me out.

Enjoy the 4th.

Next up -- the story of a three-year-old's first trip to the movies.

What else? I got nothin'.

One Day at a Time

2007-07-02T13:56:00.000-04:00

I wish this post were about the TV show that shared the same title.

I probably could write for hours about Valerie Bertinelli.

Instead it's about life and what's been going on in mine and trying to get back to 'normalcy' -- if there even is such a thing.

Besides, when I get around to it, and that will hopefully be soon, I have a funny tale to tell about bringing my three-year-old to his first movie this weekend. The one about the rats. I'm not even going to try and spell it, but you know what I'm talking about.

But first, to those who have read my last few posts about everything -- thank you. I wasn't trying to make you cry. I wasn't trying to over-share, I was writing first and foremost for myself, and if along the way you learned a little bit more about my brother, then that's a good thing.

I can share one other thing with you. I mentioned he was an organ donor and two people got a new kidney because of him. Well, my sister-in-law heard from one of the patients via the organ donation people (I'm sure they have a name, but organ donation people will do for now).

One of the patients is a man in his mid-40s. He has three kids. His oldest daughter is getting married later this year. Because of the gift he received from my brother, he now looks forward to being able to walk his daughter down the aisle at her wedding, something he wasn't going to be able to do before this.

Again, not trying to make you cry. Just saying.

And to all of my friends that have absolutely been awesome through this, my thanks. I am amazed at the outpouring of concern that I (and my family) have received.

It often takes a hardship to realize how good people can be. And how many people really are 'there for you.' It's pretty cool to know that I have friends that drove more than three hours to spend five minutes with me at a wake. Or to know that tonight a friend is bringing over dinner for us. Or that I didn't have to worry about anything at work. Or that the big pile of laundry was done and folded for us. And I could go on and on and on.

The fact is -- I have awesome friends. And I thank you.

The Funeral

2007-06-22T21:22:00.001-04:00

Note: This all starts with Life is Precious on the right. Start there and read up. My regulars, you'll be shocked to see how much I've posted today!

What a beautiful day for a funeral. Really. I mean, this is what you think about. Or what I think about. Besides wondering if I'll make it through my talk.

We assembled at the funeral home, said our final farewells, a few prayers and made our way to the church.

It was packed. Absolutely packed. Mom and Lynn didn't want to walk down the aisle, so they went in the side door.

The rest of us were in the back of the church. The priest started with a prayer, we spread the pall over Tim's casket and then walked forward to our pew.

Uh oh. It was hitting me now. Not now. I love this song (Eagle's Wings) and I want to sing it. I couldn't. I wasn't crying, but I couldn't sing.

Renee was doing the second reading, and I could see her walk to the altar out of the corner of my eye. She was sitting in back with Erin, just in case she had to feed her during the service. I knew she would do an awesome job, but I couldn't look at her. She did us proud. She nailed it.

Then, I was feeling OK. I could sing, I could talk, I didn't have to bite my lip.

I was thinking ahead and was worried about the sign of peace, thinking I would lose it then. I didn't.

OK, I thought, I'm going to do this, but then I was worried about Brendan and Tommy, and whether or not they'd get through their talk.

The time came. Tommy went first. He was nervous. But he nailed it. Perfect humor and perfect explanation of the 'twin thing.' I joked with him before he went up and said, "I hope you don't mind, but I'm not going to listen."

I went first at my Dad's, and I think that's how I made it through that one -- barely.

Tommy finished and I was still feeling OK. Brendan and I went up to the altar together. This 13-year-old stood in front of about 300 people, not too mention his Dad's coffin, and hit a homerun. He was fabulous. I had told him that people would laugh, and they did. That helped him. And I thought it would help me.

I was wrong.

I had a very general opening and then a couple of jokes. I got through that without too much trouble, but I knew as soon as I opened my mouth that I wasn't going to get through the entire thing -- the best thing I've ever written, and I wasn't going to be able to finish it.

It was five pages long. Midway through page three, I lost it. Then I dropped the papers. Picked them up and said, "good thing I numbered them." Everyone laughed. I thought I could do it again. But this was just the part where I was getting to the more emotional parts.

I knew I was toast.

I looked over to Father Perkins and he (thankfully) came over to pick up where I left off while I sat sobbing like a baby.

I knew where he was, heck, I practically had it memorized. I also knew that I wanted to say the last line myself. So as he got to that part, I stood up, moved closer to the lectern and he realized what I was doing. I then said the last line like I wanted to and returned, still sobbing madly, to the pew.

The first thing my Mom said was, "You were right. That was the best thing you've ever written."

I could hear sobs everywhere. I wasn't trying to make people cry. Or feel sorry for me. I was trying to get them to know Tim better than they did. I had learned so much about him in the past few days from his work colleagues. I wanted them, and others, to know the Tim I knew. And, regardless of whether I read some of it or the priest read some of it, when it was over, they knew.

So, if you'd like to read what I couldn't make it through, here it is -- my eulogy to my brother Tim -- the best thing I've ever written:

Note: It's written in all caps. That's not a mistake. It's just how I type things when I'm giving a talk. Hope it's not too difficult to read.

FIRST OF ALL, ON BEHALF OF THE O’FARRELL FAMILY, THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT. IT’S A PRETTY AMAZING THING. I KNOW NOT EVERYONE WILL BE AT THE CEMETERY, BUT I DO HOPE YOU’LL JOIN US AFTERWARDS AT THE CALABRESE CLUB IN WESTERLY FOR FOOD AND FELLOWSHIP.

ONE OF THE MOST INTERESTING THINGS FOR ME THROUGHOUT THIS PROCESS HAS BEEN LEARNING ABOUT TIM’S WORK LIFE. THE WORDS PEOPLE HAVE EXPRESSED ABOUT TIM HAVE BEEN NOTHING SHORT OF AMAZING.

ONE CONVERSATION IN PARTICULAR, REALLY TAUGHT ME THAT THERE’S A DIFFERENT SIDE TO TIM I NEVER KNEW. THE WORKING TIM.

THE PERSON I WAS TALKING TO ACTUALLY USED THE WORD DYNAMIC TO DESCRIBE MY BROTHER. I SAID, TIM O’FARRELL, RIGHT?

OH YEAH, HE TOLD ME. ABSOLUTELY DYNAMIC. HE MADE PEOPLE LAUGH. HE CRACKED JOKES. BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, THIS PERSON TOLD ME, HE GOT THINGS DONE. AND PEOPLE RESPONDED TO HIM.

THAT I BELIEVE. MY BROTHER ALWAYS GOT THINGS DONE.

BUT DYNAMIC? I’M STILL NOT SURE I BELIEVE IT.

RESERVED? YES.

STOIC? NO QUESTION.

SERIOUS? WITHOUT A DOUBT.

THOSE ARE WORDS I WOULD USE TO DESCRIBE MY BROTHER TIM.

BUT THEN IT HIT ME.

THIS PERSON KNOWS ONE SIDE OF MY BROTHER. I, AND OTHERS, KNOW OTHER SIDES OF HIM.

AND FOR THE NEXT COUPLE OF MINUTES, I’D LIKE TO SHARE SOME MEMORIES WITH YOU ABOUT THE TIM O’FARRELL I KNOW.

SEEMS LIKE EVERY HOLIDAY MEAL, WE END UP REHASHING FUNNY FAMILY STORIES AROUND THE TABLE. ONE OF MY FAVORITES IS THE TIME TIMMY HURT HIS WRIST OR ARM – I DON’T REMEMBER WHICH. WHATEVER IT WAS, IT WAS BUGGING HIM SO MUCH. BUT MY MOM DIDN’T BUY IT. SHE FINALLY TOLD HIM THAT IF HE WANTED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL, HE SHOULD TAKE THE INSURANCE CARD, GET ON HIS BIKE AND GO. IT WASN’T LONG THEREAFTER THAT MY MOTHER GOT A CALL. TIMMY NEEDED TO BE PICKED UP. HE WAS IN A CAST!

PHONE CONVERSATIONS WITH TIM ARE ALWAYS FUN. IMAGINE SOMETHING LIKE THIS.

HELLO.

MICHAEL.

YEAH.

YOU GOING TO MA’S?

YUP.

WHAT TIME?

NOON.

SEE YOU THEN.

OK.

NOW THAT’S DYNAMIC – WOULDN’T YOU SAY?

MY BROTHER TOM GOT MARRIED A COUPLE MONTHS AGO IN INDIANA. I FLEW OUT. TIMMY DROVE – AS DID MY MOM AND MY SISTER. LYNN AND MOM LEFT AN ENTIRE DAY BEFORE TIMMY. HE CAUGHT UP TO THEM NOT TO FAR FROM THE FINAL DESTINATION – MAKING UP NEARLY A DAY’S HEAD START.

THEN, ONCE HE GOT THERE, HE HAD TWO THINGS ON HIS MIND – NEITHER ONE OF WHICH SEEMED TO BE HIS BROTHER’S WEDDING. NOPE. HE WAS MORE FOCUSED ON FINDING A PLACE TO WASH HIS TRUCK AND THEN GETTING BACK TO THE HOTEL QUICKLY BECAUSE IT HAD FREE SPEED CHANNEL.

ON A MORE PERSONAL SIDE, I DON’T THINK ANYONE HERE EVEN KNOWS THIS – YOU KNOW US O’FARRELLS, WE’RE NOT KNOWN FOR SHARING A WHOLE LOT – BUT TIM SAID ONE OF THE MOST MEANINGFUL THINGS ANYONE HAS EVER SAID TO ME.

THE IRONIC PART OF THIS STORY – HE SAID IT AT MY BACHELOR PARTY.
THAT NIGHT, I FOUND MYSELF THE BUTT OF MANY JOKES AS MY FRIENDS WENT AROUND THE TABLE ROASTING ME.

MY BROTHER TOM GOT IN THE ACT, SHARING SOME EMBARASSING STORY. EVEN MY DAD GOT INVOLVED IN THIS LITTLE GAME, REALLY TAKING THE OPPORTUNITY TO BUST ON ME.

THEN IT WAS TIMMY’S TURN. I HAD TAKEN SUCH A VERBAL BEATING, HE COULD HAVE EASILY JUST PILED ON AND FOLLOW THE LEAD OF HIS BROTHER AND FATHER.THAT’S WHAT I EXPECTED.

BUT HE DIDN’T DO THAT.

INSTEAD, HE TOLD ME HE RESPECTED ME AND HOW I GOT TO THAT POINT IN MY LIFE. HE THEN TOLD ME – AND THE REST OF THE GROUP – THAT HE WAS PROUD OF ME. I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. I NEVER EXPECTED IT. ESPECIALLY THEN – AT MY BACHELOR PARTY.

IT’S SUCH A SIMPLE PHRASE. BUT IT CARRIES A LOT OF MEANING. AND GIVEN THE TIMING OF WHEN HE SAID THAT, IT MEANT THAT MUCH MORE TO ME.

IT ALSO MEANT A LOT TO ME BECAUSE, DESPITE HAVING TWIN BROTHERS, THAT THREE MINUTE OR SO HEAD START TIM HAD OVER TOM IN THIS WORLD CLASSIFIED TIM AS MY BIG BROTHER. TOM IS MY OLDER BROTHER. TIM IS ALWAYS MY BIG BROTHER. AND WHAT LITTLE BROTHER DOESN’T TRY TO IMPRESS HIS BIG BROTHER?

WE NEVER TALKED ABOUT WHAT HE SAID TO ME. NOT LATER THAT NIGHT, NOT EVER. BUT IT HAS ALWAYS SAT WITH ME AS A MEANINGFUL MEMORY.

ANOTHER THING I’VE LEARNED RECENTLY IS JUST HOW PRECIOUS LIFE IS. MY BROTHER TOM CALLED ME LAST MONDAY WITH THE NEWS OF TIM’S COLLAPSE JUST AS MY WIFE AND I WERE GETTING READY TO TAKE OUR NEW DAUGHTER HOME FROM THE HOSPITAL.

I ALMOST DIDN’T BELIEVE TOMMY. HOW IN THE WORLD COULD WHAT HE WAS SAYING BE POSSIBLE? BUT, IT WAS MORE THAN POSSIBLE. IT WAS TRUE.

AS WE LEARNED MORE ABOUT TIM’S CONDITION, ONE OF MY THOUGHTS WENT TO MY NEW DAUGHTER, ERIN.

I WAS ALREADY FEELING JEALOUSY FOR HER TOWARD HER LESS THAN YEAR OLD COUSIN, LAUREN, MY SISTER LYNN’S DAUGHTER.

YOU SEE, LAUREN DOESN’T KNOW IT YET, BUT SHE IS A VERY LUCKY GIRL. EVERY TIME TIM WAS ANYWHERE NEAR LAUREN, HE HAD TO HOLD HER AND PLAY WITH HER.

IT WAS ALWAYS FUN TO SEE BECAUSE THAT WAS A SIDE OF TIM I HAD NEVER SEEN BEFORE. AND I REALLY NEVER GAVE IT SOME THOUGHT – UNTIL I REALIZED THAT MY DAUGHTER WILL NEVER GET TO PLAY WITH HER UNCLE TIM.

WE ALL HAVE DIFFERENT SIDES. AND IT’S RARE THAT ONE PERSON SEES ALL SIDES OF ANOTHER PERSON. EVEN TIM’S WIFE SUE WILL LEARN MORE ABOUT HER HUSBAND AS YOU SHARE YOUR STORIES WITH HER.

BUT WHATEVER SIDE YOU SAW OF TIM – THE STOIC, THE RESERVED, OR, OK, EVEN THE DYNAMIC – HOLD THOSE MEMORIES CLOSE. DON’T LET THEM GO. DON’T LET HIM GO.

REMEMBER MY BIG BROTHER AS YOU KNEW HIM – A CHILDHOOD FRIEND, A COLLEAGUE, A FAMILY MEMBER – WHATEVER HE WAS TO YOU..

BECAUSE I KNOW, HE’S WATCHING US RIGHT NOW. HE AND MY DAD. I KNOW THEY ARE WATCHING. AND I KNOW THEY ARE LISTENING.

SO, TIM, IT MAY BE THIRTEEN YEARS LATER, BUT JUST AS YOU SAID TO ME, I SAY TO YOU NOW – I’M PROUD OF YOU.

The Wake

2007-06-22T21:07:00.000-04:00

Note: This 'series' begins with Life is Precious. Catch up on the right, starting there and working up if you're just starting. Loyal readers, both of you, can catch up, too, since I'm posting a bunch at once.

I remember planning my Dad's services. My Mom didn't want a wake. "Nobody will come," she said.

More than 200 people showed up.

Growing consensus was that Tim's was going to be significant. It was. And then some.

One of the local papers put the obits online and creates a virtual guest book for people to leave condolences. Tim's was up to more than five pages long -- mostly from his work colleagues. That was just incredible to see. We knew they were going to show up -- but were amazed at the actual turn out, both at the wake and again at the funeral. It really showed us a great deal about Tim and the lives he touched.

The wake was from 5 to 8 p.m. It was almost non stop the entire time, save for the last half hour or so. More than 400 people came to pay their respects. More than 400! My friends, Lynn's friends, Tom's friends, Mom's friends, Sue's friends, Marc's friends, Brendan's friends. Just unreal.

Probably 75 people from Tim's work came. They travelled more than 90 minutes to be here. One guy even came from New Hampshire. All had glowing words about my brother. Again, it was just incredible.

We laughed a lot. It was comforting.

My sister and I were standing next to each other, trying to figure out who was who in line. Then we had to say a number of times that we were brother and sister, not husband and wife. That was funny.

We were keeping track of some of our favorite lines throughout the night -- including one guy who came right up to Lynn and said, "Good to see you. Who are you?" We just cracked up.

Then there was this guy who leaned in to kiss Lynn. I was like, Who's kissing my sister? I had no idea. She had no idea. Turns out it was our neighbor from across the street while growing up. Neither of us recognized him.

Renee and Erin were there. It was Renee's first time to really be a part of this, besides dealing with me during the course of the ordeal, and keeping our homelife in order. Erin was the star of the show, everyone wanting to see the new little one who was bringing so much needed joy during such a horrible time in our family.

We were exhausted afterwards. Three hours on our feet, 400 people. It was a lot. But it was good. It was, dare I say it, fun. We learned so much. We heard so much about the good time brought to a lot of people.

And, jeez, as I say that I forgot one other element that I should have mentioned earlier.

We had heard a couple days earlier about the organ donation process.

They were using Tim's liver for research. But, more importantly, two patients got a new kidney because of him.

That was the best news. I wonder if someday we'll learn more about those people. But that's not nearly as important as them learning one day about the person whose kidney they now have.

Tim, Part IV

2007-06-22T21:00:00.001-04:00

Note: this 'series' starts with Life is Precious on the left. If you're new, start there and read oldest to newest, if you want to, that is. If you're returning, I've posted a few here at once.

The next few days are a blur. A lot of it is.

We met at the funeral home. We helped Sue pick out a casket, set a wake time, finalize pallbearers.

I finished the obit and worked with the funeral home to have it placed in various papers.

I worked with Brendan on his eulogy, helping him focus on good times and thoughts he had with his Dad. Could a 13-year-old really handle this?

I met with the priest to go over readings and music selection.

And I actually went into work. I had to, at least for a half day to try and have some normalcy in my life and to forget about stuff for a while.

Some people were surprised at 'how well I was doing.' I wasn't doing well. I may have come across that way, but my way to deal with stress sometimes is humor. That's what I was trying to be. Happy go lucky and funny Mike. And maybe that did help me for a bit, as were primarily focused on the 'business' of things.

But I knew it would change. That I would have one more breakdown. I just hoped it wasn't during my eulogy.

Then you start getting crazy about certain things. People are always good about food and stuff. Well, after my Dad died, one my Mom's friends made the most amazing comfort food. It was like a cheeseburger casserole thing. Just incredible.

All I could think about was, "Wait, will Mrs. R be making that? When will we get it?!"

Yeah, this is how your mind works when your brother dies.

Tim, Part III

2007-06-22T20:43:00.000-04:00

Note: If you're just finding this, look at the links on the right and start with the "Life is Precious" post and work your way up. If you've been here recently, I've just posted a couple, so you can pick up where you left off, if you're so inclined.

Driving home Thursday was strange. I was thinking about Marc. Where was he? Was he going to make it?

I was thinking about my mom. She already buried her husband. I can't even imagine what it would be like to bury a child.

I thought about my brother. He seemed strong, yet shaken. But he rarely showed emotion. But, it's a 'twin thing', I'm sure. I don't think anyone who isn't a twin can understand what he was going through.

I thought about my sister. Her daughter was Tim's new favorite. And, she was about to lose one of her older brothers. As she said to me, "I'm in this great place. It's called denial."

I thought about both of my nephews together. 22 and 13. I lost my dad when I was 30. It hurt a ton. I can't imagine what these guys are going to feel.

I thought about my wife and my daughter. I've barely spent enough time with them. Friends and family helping out to keep them company.

I thought about my self and told myself I shouldn't feel sorry for my self. Yes, I just had a kid. I wanted the attention for that. I wanted people to be able to enjoy her and the moment. But, that will come. This isn't about me, I told myself. It's about Tim. And we need to be strong for him. And for his family.

Then I thought about what I wanted to write -- because I was going to speak at his funeral. Or at least I was going to try and do it. As was my brother and Tim's youngest son. I had the thing written in my head on the drive home. It was so easy.

I got home, filled in Renee and friends that were here and tried to focus on Aidan and Erin for a bit. That helped. How could it not?

Then I wrote out my eulogy. Is that wrong? To write it before the person is officially dead? Well, that's what I did. And, I was so proud. It was the best thing I've ever written. The hard part was going to be actually reading it.

I was going to stay home from the hospital on Friday -- expecting a phone call with news that never came. I felt incredibly guilty all day. I should be there with my family. I should be here with my family. But, again, this isn't about me. My emotions, though, were all over the place. I've never felt anything like this. And, I hope I never feel it again.

Brendan, my nephew, stayed here Friday night. He and I drove up Saturday morning. Nothing changed. Nothing new. Marc was getting closer. He landed in Providence and was an hour away. He arrived. So young, so thin and so mature. And we are all so proud of what he is doing.

He went back to see his dad. Then we all had our last alone time with Tim. I had really already done it, so I went in, said a couple of prayers to him, told him I would miss him and that I loved him and went back to the waiting room.

After we all had gone, we just packed up and left. The organ donor team was next to do their thing -- and another reason to be proud of Tim. I also got a list of all the nurses who worked on my brother. I would need that to write the note to the hospital president later and let him know how incredible his staff is.

We had an appointment for the funeral home on Monday. So that meant the wake would be Wednesday and the funeral Thursday.

Somehow it went from being so emotional to so factual -- so business like. I had already started his obituary, too. I can't help it. Better to do it in a normal frame of mind, I guess.

The support we were all getting was incredible. Cousins came up to the hospital, as did friend of Tim and Sue's, as did a representative of his work. It was all so incredible. Particularly from his work. We knew he was good at what he did, but we learned so much more about Tim during this process. Sad in a way, but so rewarding in another.

All I remember thinking was, these next few days aren't going to be easy.

Tim, Part II

2007-06-22T20:04:00.000-04:00

So I went home Monday night, the 11th of June, excited to see my new daughter, born just a day before, and nervous about my brother. He was going to be OK, right?

Tuesday and Wednesday are a blur. I don't remember much. Mostly anecdotal things. Like on Tuesday, how I brought my iPod to the hospital to play music, believing Tim would somehow hear what I was playing for him.

I first played AC/DC, his favorite band. Then I started to play Styx. I didn't like a certain song, so I got up to change it. The next song coming up? Don't Let It End This Way.

I then played Motley Crue for him -- at least I did until one of their songs started playing. It's called Kickstart My Heart.

I mean, the irony is the cruelest. And there's really no way to make this up -- especially when driving home Tuesday night, the first song I hear on the radio is How to Save a Life.

I'm not sure of this joke being played on me. But I don't like it.

What I also remember most about Tuesday and Wednesday is how amazing this hospital was. Baystate Medical Center in Springfield, MA. The Cardiac ICU nurses, in particular, are some of the most amazing people I've ever met.

They gave such respect, not just to us, but to Tim. The way they bathed him. The way they talked to him. The way they touched him. The utmost in professionalism and in human decency.

I asked one nurse, Beth, how she did this. Didn't she get attached? Of course we get attached, she said. How can you not?

I don't remember a lot more, other than hearing that they were going to do an EEG, which basically measures for any brain activity. When I heard that, I think it hit me. I lost it at my brother's bedside a couple of times. Each time, a nurse was right there with a comforting arm and peaceful word. I cannot say enough about these people.

Throughout all this, we knew that Marc had been contacted in Iraq and the process of getting him home had begun.

Thursday morning, about 6 a.m., Sue called to say Tim took a turn for the worse overnight. I was planning on staying home to rest that day, but I just looked at Renee and said, "I've gotta go up." Ten minutes later, I was out the door.

I live the closest to the hospital, so I was the first one there, besides Sue. I got there about 8. Shortly thereafter, the attending physician took Sue and I into a conference room. Joining us were two other doctors, three nurses and a chaplain.

The doctor said what I think we all believed to be true by this time. Tim had no brain activity. He was, in effect, brain dead. I don't know how this doctor did it. But he was so good. He was telling a man's wife and younger brother that our worst fears were coming true.

And somehow, he did it in a way that we were comforted. Again, I completely broke down. This was my moment. Things changed for me a bit after this. I looked up at one point during my cryfest and two of the three nurses were crying with me. The chaplain had her hand on Sue.

These people were just amazing. The doctor went on to say they would do all they could to make sure Tim would make it until Marc got here. He was honest and said he didn't think it was possible, because by this time we knew we wouldn't see Marc until Saturday. But he said they would try. That's all we could ask for. The respect was just unbelievable.

The rest of the family arrived shortly there after, my mom, sister, brother (Tim's twin) and Tim's son. We shared the news.

Then we had meetings with the social worker to discuss different things. We talked about wakes. Funerals. Pallbearers. Eulogies. Organ donation. Everything. It was surreal.

There was a white board in the room. I wrote, "Love you, Tim" on it. I didn't know what else to do.

Then, I had gone downstairs to get something to eat. When I came back up, the man in the ICU waiting room, knew who I was and said, "They are waiting for you in the room."

Oh God, I thought. Already?!

I go in there and nothing has changed with Tim. But, there was a huge food platter with sandwiches, drinks, chips, cookies etc. This was from the nursing staff. Again, these people. I don't know what else to say. The utmost in care and respect.

Thursday night, I was ready to go home. I said I wasn't coming back Friday. I needed to rest.

My sister asked if I was going to be OK with that -- meaning, I wasn't there when my Dad died and she was afraid of how I would be if I missed this.

I was fine, I told her. I made my peace. I said my goodbye -- which I had done after Sue and I talked with the doctors and nurses earlier in the morning. Another bedside meltdown.

I was still playing music for him. And, I had even taken a picture of Erin on my cellphone and showed that to him -- so he could meet his niece. He knew about her, but he hadn't seen her -- until then.

Oh, one other crazy note. One of the doctors on Tim's team? Yeah, his last name is Hope. Dr. Hope. Can you believe that? This is stuff you can't make up.

I left Thursday thinking it would be the last time I would see my brother.

Tim, Part I

2007-06-19T21:48:00.001-04:00

Well, here we go.

I guess it's safe to say that when I first started this blog, I never expected to be writing about this.

I mean, I did write something about my dad. But he passed seven years ago.

Maybe this is morbid thinking, but I actually had a conversation with someone this afternoon. The point being that as you get older, maybe the thought comes into your mind that you might bury a parent in your lifetime. But, again, you never think of this.

The 'this' I'm referring to -- well, if you've been following along, you already know -- the death of my brother, Tim.

I'm not even sure where to start with this. All I know is my fingers are probably going to be moving quickly along the keyboard. So much inside. So much needs to come out. Not sure if it'll be one post or more. Probably more.

So there we were, my wife and I, sitting in the hospital on Monday, June 11, just a little more than 24 hours after giving birth to our beautiful daughter, Erin.

We were waiting for the discharge to happen so we could take our new girl home and let her see her house for the first time.

Then my cellphone rang. It was a call that changed everything.

My brothers are twins. I also have a sister. Mom and my sister had been by to visit, as had Tim's wife, Sue. I hadn't heard from my brother Tom. He had a lot going on his plate, so I didn't think of anything of it.

And, when I saw his name on my caller ID, I simply thought he was calling to say that he wouldn't make it to the hospital, but that he'd be by at some point soon to visit and meet his new niece.

Oh how I wish that's what he said.

I don't remember the exact words, but it was something like, "Michael. Timmy collapsed. He's on life support. He's at a hospital in Massachusetts. You need to call Lynn. I'm on my way to get mom and then heading up."

Um, what? This is my happy moment. What? No, really, what?

I hung up, gave Renee the news, found a nurse to help us speed up the process of getting out of there and called my sister, who was equally shocked.

So then we coordinate. Where are we going? How are we getting there? Who's riding with who? Wait, who is going to stay with Renee and Erin? What about Aidan? He's due home soon. Oh, OK, Renee's parents can stay at the house. Phew.

More scattered information before waiting for my sister to get to my house so we can ride together. Mom already in the car with Tom on the way. Tim's wife Sue already there. Their 13-year-old son with family. Their 22-year-old son is, well, in Iraq.

Tim loved motocross, watching and riding. Well, for two days, he was at a track in Mass. where he could have a fantasy camp type experience and ride on this track. He was on his bike, at the starting line when he collapsed.

With Lynn with me now, we started heading north to some place called Noble Hospital. Tom called. Tim is being transferred to Baystate Medical Center in Springfield. Well, good news, I guess. Bigger (and we assume better) hospital, ready to handle this sort of thing. And, a closer drive.

We get there, Lynn and I the last to arrive. We make our way to the ER. What a madhouse. People all over the place. Beds in the hallway. People in handcuffs. People fighting.

Everyone looks shaken. Where's Tim? Can we see him?

We make our way through a myriad of ER patients to this corner curtain area in the ER.

And there's my big brother. (I know. They are twins. But Tim was first. So that makes him my big brother.) Laying on the table. Wait, this really is happening. Three hours earlier I was in a hospital with a precious new life. Now, here I am, trying to listen, to gather information and looking at my brother -- hoping, praying.

At this point, while it was clear he wasn't in good shape, I certainly had no reason to believe that he wouldn't pull through. I mean, people recover from heart attacks. Right? He'll recover. He'll eat better. Do more. But he'll be OK.

My first point of concern came shortly after. He was transferred up to the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit. We all went upstairs to that waiting room. The message was, give us 15 to 20 minutes to get him stable and then we'll come to get you and let you in to visit.

Well, more than an hour passes. Why aren't they coming out? So, there's a phone in the waiting room. I call into the unit. No, we can't see him. Not yet.

Another 20 minutes passes. Then a nurse comes out. His nurse. Her name is Beth. She talks to Sue. I sort of listen in. It's not good news. Hard time getting him stable. Can't go in. Well, Sue can, but only for a minute. My mom wants to go in before we leave. She convinces Beth she should be able. She's in for 20 minutes.

After she comes out, we (mom, sister and I) decide to go home for the night. We take Tim's younger son with us. And, at the same time, we hope the hospital is reaching out to the Red Cross to get word to Iraq that Marc needs to come home. Now.

I'm still not sure what I felt when I left. But I can tell you it was something worse than when I arrived. Beth said it best. "We don't have stable patients in the Cardiac ICU."

Erin

2007-06-19T00:07:00.000-04:00

If you haven't read the previous post (scroll down), then you should.

A lot of stuff going on in my head. It's slowly working its way out.

Since I'm not really sure which way to go right now, I'm headed in the chronological direction, which means you get the good news first.

Did I say good news? Because I meant fabulous news.

Did I say fabulous news? Because I meant amazing news.

On Sunday, June 10, our three-year-old son Aidan became a big brother to Erin Margaret, who clocked in at 8:04 a.m. weighing an even eight pounds and measuring 22 inches of just sweet perfection.

Now, my wife and I are always very prompt. Never late. Always early. But, little miss Erin? She arrived 10 days earlier than expected! We were ready (barely!).

When Aidan was born, my wife was in labor for nearly 16 hours, including three hours of hard pushing.

"They" say the second is about half the time. For us (well, ok, for her), it was less than half the time.

We went out for pizza Saturday night. My wife thought she felt a couple of things going on. But, we thought Braxton-Hicks because they stopped as soon as she moved or shifted.

At 10 p.m. or so, she noticed more. She wasn't thinking anything of it, but I asked her to at least time them so we can see what we're dealing with -- which was soon to be the real deal.

I fell asleep downstairs watching the Red Sox when she came down about 2:30 and said, Ok, I think something's going on.

We timed some more. Contractions were steady, but still a ways apart. But getting closer each time. I packed some of my stuff in her bag. We also called my mother-in-law with a heads-up. We had another friend come over first, actually. She got the call a little later when we knew we were going to the hospital.

At 4:15 a.m., things were more intense. We called the doctor, they said come on in. So, we said goodbye to our son as he slept peacefully, not knowing that his mom and dad wouldn't be there in a couple of hours when he woke up.

"Miss Deb" came over to be at the house when Aidan woke up. Everything went fine. She later said that when she went into the room when Aidan woke, the first thing he said was, "Baby here yet?"

At the hospital just after 5 a.m. and the first exam calls Renee three centimeters. Contractions getting more intense and causing wicked back pain.

Progress over the next two hours. The epidural is put in at 7 a.m., and that might have triggered some things. Who knows?

All we know is that by 7:45, she had to push. And push hard.

The doc came in and said, "She's having this baby now" and with just a few pushes from Renee and some deterimination from our little girl, Erin was soon out in this world.

The moment was just unreal. We didn't know we were having a girl. And when they told us, it was just complete joy and emotional overload.

I cried hard twice this week. Once for Erin and once for my brother. Not sure which one was a harder cry, but I do know they were both filled with completely different emotions.

I didn't cut Aidan's cord, but I did it for Erin. Renee insisted. Like Aidan, I could hardly see at the time because of tears in my eyes. But, I got it done.

We then took lots of pictures, had a great time getting to know our little one and just relaxed, knowing that we wouldn't get to do that much longer!

We had a great first night and were having a great second day when I got a phone call that would change everything.

In the meantime though, this little girl, this little Erin Margaret, has no idea how much joy and comfort she is bringing -- just by being.

Daddy loves you, Erin Margaret.

Life is Precious

2007-06-17T23:13:00.001-04:00

Well, this is one of those times when this is more for me than it is for you.

So that's your warning. You can turn back now if you wish. I don't mind. Really. The next few posts are going to be for me. You are welcome to read them. And comment on them. I'm always thrilled when you do that. But, first and foremost, I'm writing this for me.

The title of this post is something I now believe in more than anything.

Why?

June 10th -- 8:04 a.m., my wife gives birth to a gorgeous and perfect baby girl named Erin Margaret.

June 11th -- at 3:30 p.m., while waiting to take Erin home from the hospital, one of my twin brothers calls me. I'm thinking to congratulate us. No. Instead he's calling to tell me that his twin (and my brother) has suffered a massive heart attack and is on life support.

June 12th -15th -- still a blur.

June 16th -- my brother dies.

Within one week, my family has gained a beautiful little daughter, sister, granddaughter, great granddaughter and niece. And at the same time, we've lost an incredible brother, son, father, uncle and grandson.

Now, I know life isn't fair.

But this?

Honestly?

There is so much for me to write. So much I need to write.

There's a good chance it's going to ramble. I have no idea how the words are going to come out. All I know is they are knocking at the door and they want to come out.

So, on this blog they will come out. They have to.

From the Mouths of...

2007-06-09T20:02:00.000-04:00

...three-year-olds.

So we're sitting at the table today for lunch. Now, we have wooden chairs, which, I guess you could say could amplify the sound of flatulence, should it be dispersed while sitting there.

There was a noise during lunch. However, it was just me adjusting in my chair (honest!). Nevertheless, it made a noise that you might say could be confused for something else.

Aidan, who is three, just looked up from eating his lunch and said:

"You ripped a big one, daddy."

That's my boy.

And, that's just one of his two classics today.

We're working on potty training. Progress is definitely being made. No diapers during the day at all. Very good signs.

So, I was, um, 'going' today when Aidan came running in the bathroom to observe.

As I'm standing there, just about done, he starts wiggling his hips and says:

"Shake it like this, daddy."

Again, that's my boy.

What else? I got nothin'.

Two Weeks Until the Baby Arrives...

2007-06-06T12:40:00.000-04:00

...maybe.

Well, a week has passed since we last spent time together.

Obviously, you can tell my the name of the post, Baby #2 hasn't arrived.

Thanks for those of you that 'voted' in the "What if it's a girl" election. Erin was the overwhelming favorite here, but I'm still not sure we know.

Our son Aidan is convinced he's having a sister. And, he doesn't like Erin or Maggie.

"Do you think you're going to have a little sister or brother, Aidan?"

"Girl, Daddy."

"Do you like the name Erin?"

"Silly name, Daddy."

"Like what?"

"Like window, Daddy. Or pancake."

Well, I suppose, if it's a girl, that we could call her Winnie.

Aidan has also declared that he's only going to share his toys with a sister -- including his prized tow truck and fire trucks.

"But, buddy, what if it's a boy, won't you share your toys with him?"

"No, Daddy."

Ok, then.

Some other random baby things:

We bought new booster seats for Aidan. They go in tomorrow night, along with the new baby's seat bases. Exciting, eh?

Still haven't packed any bags. Heck, we're only five minutes from the hospital.

Everyone asks about my wife. Nobody asks about me. I'm not complaining at all. I'm just sayin'.

Aidan was born the day before Mother's Day. My wife's first Mother's Day was in the hospital. I wonder if we'll wrap this one around Father's Day.

I'm still surprisingly calm over all of this.

I'm guessing boy. Aidan is demanding a girl. My wife has no feeling one way or another.

We were together when contractions started the first time. I wonder where we'll be this time. Will we be together? Will I be at work? Will we be in church? Will we be asleep?

Alright, I guess that's it.

What else? I got nothin'.

Three Weeks Until the Baby Arrives...

2007-05-30T21:41:00.000-04:00

Yeah, read the title of this post again.

Gulp.

June 20th is the due date of child number two. Wait a minute though. Aren't we the couple that wasn't going to have kids? Hmmm. Yeah, I think so.

Well, that was then. And, this, as they say, is now.

Have I mellowed so much that I'm not nervous or worried at all at this point? Is that even possible? Me, the person who wanted fish -- not kids. I'm sitting here cool as a cucumber as we wait for the arrival of our second -- yes, second -- child.

But, yeah, I think that's the truth.

My wife took yesterday off of work to do some things around the house. Stuff like packing away clothes that don't fit Aidan anymore. And then replacing them with the clothes he wore as a little one.

Some say she was nesting. Nope. She's just organized. She had the day off planned for a few weeks. Although she did say she feels it's coming sooner than the due date.

Well, any day is sooner than the due date.

Gulp.

But I'm fine. Really.

Aidan was a week early.

So, bring it on.

Wait. Did I just type that?

Yup, turns out I did.

For those of you not in the loop, we don't know what we're having. Well, besides a baby. You knew that was coming. Sorry, couldn't resist.

A few things left to do. Car seat bases put in among them. Bags to pack.

We've already done the 'refresher' birth class. I was valedictorian. I remembered most of the breathing patterns. And, yes, I will coach her through the process. The nurses even gave me kudos last time. I'm just saying.

Other things to get include a baby book and one of those first year calendar things. I had forgotten about that completely. My wife realized we didn't have them the other day. Yikes. I mean, the mental stress to make sure everything is as equal for two as for one, right? Of course I think about that. How could I not?

The other thing not done yet -- the final names. Here's your chance to vote.

If we have a boy, it'll be Liam. If it's a girl, it'll either be Erin or Margaret/Maggie. What do you think?

Well, that's it for now. Three more weeks. Maybe. How crazy is that? Yeah. It's crazy.

What else? I got nothin'.

Quick Rant

2007-05-24T10:49:00.000-04:00

Well, I have a meeting in 10 minutes and I'm still fuming from a phone call I had earlier today. So, this benefits you.

You haven't seen me for a while, but for the next 10 minutes, I'm all yours.

So, shopping the other day...and I love orange juice. Coffee, bad. Orange juice, good. But, as you know, I think us juice drinkers are getting the shaft. Remember when it was a good deal if orange juice was two for four bucks? That wasn't too long ago, right? Well, now, it's two for six bucks!! Are you kidding me? Forget about gas prices, I'm more concerned about the price of my Tropicana than I am of my Mobil.

You know what? I've gotta do something else right now. So this is over right now.

Ugh. I'm having one of those weeks. Not days. Weeks.

What else? I got nothin'.

Your Third Favorite Story

2007-05-16T23:34:00.000-04:00

Well, here it is, the last of the three top vote getters in my survey to you. If you're new to this, I gave my faithful and loyal readers five stories to pick from. I would then write about whatever they picked.

So, the previous two posts underneath this one are a direct result of that. This is the final installment. And I hope you enjoy it.

I know I've been slacking, particularly when my wife, a once and again reader of this space, says to me tonight, "A little behind on the blog, eh?"

But, it could be that she said that because she knows this post is, in fact, about her, and that I won't be writing about a salutatorian, cheerleader, homecoming queen and former crush (like I did in the previous post).

So, without further adieu, here is the third most-requested story:

We were living in Vermont at the time. My wife was teaching math at the local high school. She got to be friendly with one of the language teachers. Nothing strange about that. But what's good about that is that the language teacher takes a group of students to Italy every couple of years. And, for the trip that was to take place in February 2000, she asked my wife if she wanted to come along as a chaperone. The other good thing? There was no cost for chaperones.

A free trip to Italy? Um, yes, please. Where do I sign up. Or, well, where does she sign up. It was a chance of a lifetime. So take it! And she did. For a moment, it was almost looking like I would be asked to be a chaperone, too. But, that didn't pan out.

The trip was in the middle of February. My dad had passed away at the end of January. She was worried about leaving for a week or so just after we were back and settled in to our routine. Are you kidding me? Go!

Besides, little did she know....that just a few days into the trip, I would be joining her.

Yup, since she would be spending her 30th birthday there, I thought it only fitting that I help her celebrate -- in person.

So, in December, I went to work. First idea was to clear it with the lead teacher. Would she mind if I came and tagged along for a few days. My plan was to arrive two days in, stay for three days, and then head home before the group.

Did she mind? She loved the idea! Then the challenge was keeping it a secret. Only two teachers knew and certainly none of the students. Only my parents and her parents knew, as well as my college roommate. He paid for my airline tickets on his credit card so she wouldn't see any record on ours. That would be my only true cost, since she had her own room in all the hotels while there.

So then I cleared it with the trip company to make sure I could ride the bus with them at no trouble. Well, more on this later, but let's just say there was a major miscommunication.

So my wife left for Italy, all nervous about leaving me behind, but realizing she couldn't pass up the trip of a lifetime.

Two days later, I was ready to start my journey. A snowstorm struck the east coast, making it debatable if I was going to get out of Vermont on the way to Newark, where I then took off for Rome.

I just got out of Burlington -- barely. The next flight after me was cancelled. If I didn't get out that day, I wasn't getting out, that's for sure. It just wouldn't have made sense.

So, Burlington to Newark, no problem. Newark to Rome, no problem.

Then the fun started.

Now, keep in mind that I am so directionally challenged, that I don't know which way to go when walking out of a store in the mall. Directions are just not my strong point. I am male, afterall.

After landing in Rome, I had to make it south to Naples, which was where we were scheduled to meet up that night, at the hotel the group was staying in.

My challenge was to get on a train out of Rome and head south. I made it to the rail area and looked over everything. I saw Naples. I figured out the train I needed. Everything was all set.

I walked to the window and said, "I'd like one to Naples, please."

"Napoli," came the reply.

"No, I'm trying to go to Naples. One ticket please."

"Yes, Napoli."

"Um, no, I'm trying to get to Naples."

Then it hit me. Naples. Napoli. Same place. Oh boy. This is going to be fun.

Train through the country side was fabulous. As it turns out, I was ahead of schedule. I figured I had a couple of hours to kill, because I was definitely earlier than expected. I had to change trains at some point. And when I was off the first one, I realized I was near the lost city of Pompeii.

Well, I mean, how often do you get to see that. I was close, so why the heck not.

I paid my ticket and went in and wandered around for a bit. And, despite making it on the flights and on the train ride, I managed to get lost in Pompeii. What happened was, I somehow actually got outside the place. I found myself on the outside looking in.

So, I started the long walk around to the main area so I could get back in.

But then a funny thing happened. While I was standing there, a group of kids comes in the area. I'm like, wait, I know these kids. I knew they were going to Pompeii, but I had no idea that I would actually meet them there.

A couple of kids saw me and were obviously surprised. I put my finger to my mouth to keep them quiet when I saw the lead teacher, who knew something cool was about to happen. She just sort of smiled, didn't really say anything, and got out of the way so I would see my wife.

Or, more importantly, my wife would see me.

When she did see me, she couldn't say much. She took a couple steps back in disbelief, started crying and then threw a big hug around me, asking, well, you know what she was asking! What the heck was I doing there!

I told her I couldn't let her celebrate such a big birthday without me. She still couldn't believe it. And, honestly, either could I!

She then realized that the other teachers knew and that she had been had, so to speak! It was great fun.

The good thing, I was then able to tag along with them on the Pompeii tour, so I knew I wouldn't be getting lost on my way out this time!

So, we then boarded the boss and made our way to Naples and the hotel, my wife just still in shock. I don't think she was shocked so much that I was there, but rather, that I actually made it there completely on my own!

I was only going to be with them for three days, so my plan was to just tag along on the boss and see whatever I could see, not so much worried about that, but just wanting to spend time with my wife.

Then we got the bad news at dinner. The woman who represented the tour company came to the table and said that I couldn't ride the bus with them anymore. What are you talking about?

I couldn't believe this turn of events, which no doubt put a damper on things. It turns out, the company was only allowing me a one day pass on their bus, not for longer than that. I was like, wait, I'll sign any waiver you need, just let me ride the bus. She was kind of snobby. I mean, didn't she realize what I just did...and what this would mean for the rest?

So, basically, I then had to take cabs, buses and trains to meet up with the group, wherever they were going. My biggest adventure was going north to Rome (they had already been) so I could get at least a quick peak at the Vatican. I was then going to take a train up to Florence and meet the group there.

Not exactly how I had envisioned spending part of the trip, but my wife insisted I see Rome, and I'm glad she did. And, perhaps she realized that if I made it all the way to Italy, that I could probably do alright finding my way around within the country. She was right.

We had a nice birthday dinner in Florence, after seeing the David (which really just looked like a guy without clothes). I wanted to do a lot more with them, but my hands were tied, thanks to this tour group woman. But, I did get quite a bit of time with my wife, so it was totally worth any of the aggravation.

I mean, seeing Rome was great. Seeing the David was great. Being on the Isle of Capri was great. But, really, to see her face when I arrived and to know that I pulled off a pretty amazing surprise, that was so much better than great!

So I left the group and headed home, knowing I would see them in just a few days when their bus arrived at the school parking lot.

I knew a couple of the parents there, and as we waited, I struck up a conversation like, oh, the kids looked fine. They were having a blast.

How the heck do you know, was the obvious response. Then I explained what I had just done.

It felt pretty good.

What else? I got nothin'.

Your Second Choice

2007-05-08T19:56:00.000-04:00

Your votes rang true. And I said I would honor them.

So, this post (which is going to be a long one) represents the second story to be told. The first was my life as a star. The third will be my trip to Italy when I surprised my wife for her birthday.

This post, however, is about a get-together I had with some high school friends, all of whom just happen to be female. More on that in a minute.

Due to lack of votes, you will not be reading about my day in a limo with Bob Denver (I still can't believe nobody wants to hear that story.). Nor will you be reading about the time I almost got arrested scalping Red Sox tickets.

Back to the task at hand, or, as I like to call it, my night with the homecoming queen, the cheerleader, the salutatorian and my former crush.

It's not uncommon for me to be hanging out with mostly women. For some reason, that's happened a lot. Two of my three closest friends from college are women. It's just something about me, I guess. Thankfully, I have a trusting wife.

Deep down, I'm also very sentimental. I love to think back on great memories. The past is a part of us, so why not appreciate. And I appreciate the friends I've had throughout more than just high school.

But that's the interesting thing about this night. Of the four females, I was very good friends with one through high school (the former crush). With two others (the cheerleader and the homecoming queen), we were friends in school, but our friendships have actually gotten stronger since high school, which, in case you're wondering, ended for me in 1988. One of the four, the salutatorian, I would classify mostly as an acquaintance in school. There's no reason for it, other than we just really never hung out.

One of the four (the cheerleader) still lives in the town we went to school in. I'm the next closest, being about 25 minutes away. The homecoming queen and my former crush are a couple hours away. The salutatorian is the furthest away, about halfway across the country.

I ran into the cheerleader and mentioned that we should try and get some folks together. She and I talked to the homecoming queen and then we had the makings of a mini-reunion. It was going to be over Thanksgiving, and actually include a few more classmates, but I had a flooded basement and couldn't make it. So it was cancelled.

We re-scheduled for a night during Christmas vacation and agreed to meet at a local pub.

I was excited to see them and hang out for a bit. To catch up on current lives. To rehash old stories. To exchange gossip. To think ahead. And to just spend time with folks I haven't had a chance to spend a great deal of time with in the nearly 20 years since high school graduation.

We had an absolute blast. We sat in the corner booth of a pub and just laughed and laughed for almost three hours. Memory after memory. We just went back in time and reflected on an important time in our lives. Stories of couples, parties, parents, teachers and, of course, almost all of our classmates.

It felt like between the five of us, someone knew something about almost everyone in the class. It was just a great deal of fun. I think who had the most fun was the salutatorian. She was so into it, I couldn't help but enjoy it. She wanted to know everything about everyone.

Here's my connection to each of them, a bit deeper than you've already read about above. And, if this is getting too long for you, I don't mind if you take a break and come back later. Heck, I don't mind if you don't finish it at all. This is fun for me to write and I hope it's somewhat fun for you to read. Afterall, you did vote for it.

If you can't relate to the people, relate to the situation. Think of your high school days and constrast and compare a bit. If anything, it's fun.

So...where do I start?

Ok, the cheerleader. Actually, I should say that the homecoming queen and the crush were cheerleaders, too, but I needed to only have one cheerleader for the story, so here she is. What has 20 years done to her? Nothing. She's as friendly as ever. Again, we weren't incredibly close in school, but we were friendly. And we're still that way. It's just different, you know? It's not high school anymore. It's life. And there's almost more in common now than there ever was. She has one older son and a younger son, closest to my son's age. So we were able to talk about that. Also, because she's local, she often has the scoop on a lot of people before anyone else. So that's a good thing. What's more of a good thing? She's the same person. Just a little older, like all of us. But from my perspective, nothing else has changed.

Next, the salutatorian. As I said, we weren't incredibly friendly in high school. But I don't mean that in any negative way. We just weren't anything more than passing acquaintances. I'm actually not sure I've seen her since high school. And I know I hadn't communicated with her since I was running our 10th reunion and she sent a note that she wasn't coming. I'll tell you this, she's already psyched for our 20th (which I'm also planning). When I heard she was coming, I was happy. I saw it as a chance to actually get to know her better than I probably have. And I think she felt the same way about being there. I almost didn't recognize her when she came in. The short hair was replaced by long hair, enough that I was like, wow, is that her? We've emailed once or twice since December, and I'll probably let her know I wrote this, but we won't ever be super close friends. And there's nothing wrong with that. What's important is that we will always have something in common and we were able to build on that and just have a good time.

The homecoming queen and I have become better friends since high school then we were during it. I would say that we were friends in high school, but not real close. We had some common friends and were involved in some activities together, but that was it. For some reason, after school, we just got to become closer friends. Can't really put my finger on it. But I'm glad it happened. In fact, I almost have her to thank for me being together with my wife. She went to school at the University of Vermont. My wife went to St. Michael's College, which is just a few miles from UVM. When I was in college, a couple of my friends were going up to see friends at St. Michael's. My wife was just a friend at the time. We had the same summer job. But I was like, well, maybe I'll go. But I couldn't decide. Then I thought, wait, the homecoming queen is up there. I could see her, too. And my roommate's girlfriend lived on her floor at UVM, so there was just this weird connection. I had a nice visit with her and a great visit with my wife, a visit that probably set the stages for our relationship a few years later. But the thing is, I probably wouldn't have gone to see her that weekend if my friend the homecoming queen wasn't just a few miles away. Funny how things work, isn't it?

The former crush is the person I've known the longest from this group. In fact, she's one of my oldest friends. It's scary to say this, but I can now actually say I've known her for more than 30 years. Yikes! That's because we started going to school together in first grade. So we did elementary school for eight years before going to high school together. Lots of time to build a great friendship there. And, add in that our last names are very similar, so we were always sitting next to each other in classes. Our lockers were also together most of the time in high school, too (she loved slamming mine shut). And, of course, again because of the names, we were home room buddies for four years. It was just a great friendship. And then, of course, like most dopey boys, I wondered why we couldn't be more. Well, some people are meant to be more and some people aren't. We just weren't. And that's OK, because we are still friends. It was awkward for a while, but we got through it. And I'm glad we did. I don't talk to her often as I wish. We email now and then and we exchange Christmas cards, but you know what, once a good friend, always a good friend. It's just how it is. And how it should be. I could count on her then, and I know I could count on her now.

So, if you're still with me, congrats on making it through. I won't keep you any longer. But that's the story of my night with the cheerleader, the homecoming queen, the salutatorian and the former crush.

If you made it through, thanks. Now think back to your high school years. Fun memories, don't you think?

What else? I got nothin'.

My Life as a Star

2007-05-01T23:18:00.000-04:00

I suppose it started in the third grade.

I was a bluebird in the class 'play.' And, I'll have you know, I was the best damn bluebird you've ever seen.

Afterall, it catapulted me to much bigger things -- the gullible father figure in the seventh grade play for one. But, add those two performances together and you get what I thought would always be my pinnacle moment in acting.

Eighth grade. Dr. Jeckyll. And, get this. Mr. Hyde. A dual role.

Could life get any better?

Well, turns out it could.

Now, when I say 'star,' I'm not necessarily talking the Hollywood Walk of Fame level. But, hey, I was a radio personality for more than five years in two different states. And, better than that, I'm in a movie. Yup, a real, honest to goodness (but incredibly boring) movie.

Let's start there.

My first job out of school landed me at the CIA -- not that one. I'm talking about The Culinary Institute of America. I was working in PR.

We got a call from a small film company. They were filming an independent film in upstate New York and could they come and film a scene at our place. To make a long story short, the answer was yes. They could come.

It was incredible work. My boss at the time was eight months pregnant. She got through it. I got through it. It was a scheduling nightmare -- particularly the change of plans at the last minute. But, they came. They filmed. And, more importantly, they filmed me in the movie!

The movie is called Heavy. And, yes, it's a real movie. The direct is a guy named James Mangold. Heavy was his first movie. You may not have seen it, but you've seen his others -- Cop Land, Identity, Kate and Leopold, Girl, Interrupted and Walk the Line.

Imagine, he went from directing me to directing Stallone! I love that.

So...I'm losing focus.

The movie was filmed at the CIA. The premise was, the lead character, played by Emmy winner Pruit Taylor Vince, was a short order cook at the family restaurant. Well, mom dies. So he decides, maybe I should go to cooking school.

So, while driving home from the hospital, he pops in the CIA for a tour. That's where I come in. I'm the tour guide.

You see me on screen for a few brief moments. And you hear my voice for a solid two minutes or so. It's pretty cool.

I'm not in the credits -- but if you know me, you'll know it's me without question. So, there I was. On the big screen. Or, you go into the local video store, and rent me off the shelf. I mean, how crazy is that.

It was a neat experience. Got to meet Liv Tyler when she was like 19 (and I was only a few years older). Got to meet Deborah Harry, who was also in the movie.

So, if your NetFlix list is drying up, add Heavy and give it a shot!

I know this is getting to be a long post, but you didn't expect a quick read from a star. Or did you?

The next element involves my radio career. And you may find it funny that it actually relates to my faithful addiction to what was my favorite show -- Melrose Place.

I was living in Vermont and, at the time, my favorite station was 95 Triple X. The male/female morning show was talking one day about Melrose. The female, Chantal, said that men watched it, but won't admit it. The male, Mike, denied that claim.

I couldn't resist. I had to call. The on-air call was so funny, they asked me to call back the next week to talk about the show. I don't think either of us new that one call would turn into a four-year gig of me being part of their show.

Originally, I was Melrose Man, calling in once a week to chronicle that fabulous show. When it went off the air, I became 'Ally Boy' -- talking about all things McBeal. Then I was 'Titan Man', because you can't get enough of smut TV. Then I became 'Temptation Island Man' -- for the same reason, smut. After that, there was a brief stint as 'Survivor Man' before my career ended with them after a year of being 'Movie Man' -- when I would see the newest release and review it on Monday.

Mike and Chantal were fabulously fun to work with and little did they know what they started.

After moving to Connecticut, I was back listening to Q105 -- the station I literally grew up listening to. In fact, I even interned there during high school.

Well, part of my real job was doing radio interviews to promote my employer. One day, while in the Q105 studio, the host of the show, Franco in the Morning, said something like, 'hey, you're not bad on the air. I'm thinking about adding a third voice. I can't pay you, but are you interested?'

Was I interested? Of course I was! Radio has always been a love. From my days of being a college DJ to my stint as Melrose Man and more, I've always loved radio and jumped at the chance.

So, I became Spencer. What started out as a character that was mostly the butt of many jokes, turned into a regular role on the morning show. Even though I was on just two days a week, people knew Spencer. When I would say something, it would be like, "you're Spencer?" It was pretty funny -- especially since my wife is a high school teacher. Her kids would get a kick out of it, particularly when I would refer to her on the air as Lady Spencer.

I didn't get paid -- but I had a lot of fun and made some nice connections along the way. Had some really funny moments working with Franco and Nancy. Franco left the station to take on another radio gig -- talk radio host. So I was with Nancy and Shawn, the current morning show hosts.

I thought everything was going well. They thought so, too.

Then one day, I got a call and was basically told that Spencer's services weren't needed any more. Could it be? Was I actually being fired from a job that I didn't get paid for?!

Yup, I was.

But here's where the story takes an intriguing turn -- well, intriguing to me. Spencer was relieved of his duties less than one week after the real Mike made a business decision in my real job that didn't work out favorably from the radio station's perspective.

While I was always 100 percent professional about what was fun and what was business, they weren't. And that was unfortunate.

But, no worries at all. As I said, I didn't lose sleep over it. I actually gained sleep over it, not having to get up so early on the mornings I was on the show.

Besides, it was a great run. Spencer was on the air for just about three years.

So there you have it. My life as a star. Well, I don't know if star is the right word. But it was fun. And who knew that it would all start from my being a bluebird in the third grade.

What else? I got nothin'.

The Results

2007-04-30T01:22:00.000-04:00

Well, kids, the votes are in.

It seems you're really interested in three of the five stories.

So, in order, we'll tackle:

My life as a star
My night with the homecoming queen, the cheerleader, the salutatorian and a former crush
My trip to Italy to surprise my wife

The ticket scalping story registered one vote, so that will remain untold. And, shockingly (at least to me), the Bob Denver story registered zero votes. I know he's dead, but we're still talking about Gilligan, people. Oh well. I'm over it.

Thanks for your votes -- and for your continued interest.

Coming Monday -- my life as a star.

What else? I got nothin'.

Reader's Choice

2007-04-25T20:51:00.000-04:00

Ok, so the thing is this. Apparently you like what I write.

Why? Because people are visiting. I know, because I'm watching you.

And, truly, thank you -- for sticking with me this long, especially through the dry spots. I'm going to try and be better. Things have just been nuts. And, with child number two coming, they will stay that way, but I'm going to try and be better.

And, so, as a reward for your faithfulness, I'm putting control of this space for the next five blogs directly in your hands.

We vote so much these days. American Idol. Dancing With the Stars. God knows what else.

With this post, you get to vote again.

Say what? Read on.

I'm going to list some potential topics. Your job is to post a comment (anonymous or not, I don't care) and tell me which three you'd like to read about first. I'm posting this Wednesday night. I'll post the winner sometime Friday and then follow up with the remaining most popular topics -- according to your votes!

I figure it this way...you like what I write. But you don't get any choice in what I write about.

Until now.

Excited? Hope so. If not, pretend!

OK....let's see, I'll start with five things I could write about, in no particular order:

1. The day I spent riding around in a limo with Bob Denver (yup, Gilligan).
2. The time I almost got arrested trying to scalp tickets to the Red Sox.
3. My trip to Italy -- where I surprised my wife (who was already there) for her birthday.
4. A fun time I recently had with friends from high school -- the cheerleader, the homecoming queen, the salutatorian and one of my first crushes.
5. My life as a star -- from radio personality to movie extra.

So...there you have it. Five topics just pulled from the top of my head.

The poll is now open. You are in control. I write what you want.

So, what's it going to be?

What else? I got nothin'.

Idle Thoughts

2007-04-24T00:47:00.000-04:00

Well, it's been since the great flood of 2007 that we've talked. Yup, the basement was up to its silly tricks again -- causing the shop vac to run at first every 15 minutes, and eventually, later, every hour, to contain the seeping water in the basement. The storm was Sunday. The shop vac was running until Saturday.

It wouldn't be so bad if we didn't have the coolest basement. It's our main TV room. And it has a fireplace. And it has the two best massage/heat recliners I've ever sat in.

This post is called Idle Thoughts....but how can I do an Idle Thoughts post without some Idol Thoughts? Yup, American Idol. What can I say? I'm hooked. He who shall never be named is finally gone. Phil next, please. Then Chris. Then KiKi. Leaving a final three of Blake, Jordin and Melinda. I'm pulling for Jordin.

So, went to Indiana this past weekend. My brother got married. Small wedding. Just family. Second wedding for both of them. They are very happy and have been doing the distance thing for more than five years. Why? They met on the Internet. So if you hear horror stories, I'm sure they exist. But for my brother and my new sister-in-law Teresa, it's all good.

Sox swept the Yanks. Say it's only April. I don't care.

Our son turns three May 8. Where the heck did that time go?

But, of course, things change just a few weeks later when the newest member of the family arrives.

We hadn't told our son about the fact that he was going to be a big brother. We wanted to wait as long as we could -- knowing there is no sense of time at all. And, we wanted him to see his new room being made ready. And, our furniture is coming this week and soon he'll be in his 'big boy' bed. Exciting!

So, he never made any comment about mommy's tummy, and we figured that it was time to tell him. We sat down one Saturday morning and gave him the news. He was actually more into it than we expected. But, the sense of timing issue came up almost immediately. He went down for his nap, and when he woke up, the first words out of his mouth were, "Baby here yet?"

Classic stuff.

Just like this one. He was in the tub recently, and when he sat down and extended his legs, he looked really long. He is tall for his age, but it really looked it in the tub.

So, my wife told him what a big boy he was. "Why, mommy?"

Well, she said, you're legs are growing so tall because you are eating all your fruits and vegetables and drinking your milk.

If you thought the conversation ended there, think again. Imagine the surprise when he then said, "Penis grow, mommy?"

I think that's one for your father to answer, she said. Love it. Great stuff.

So my friend, John, is kind of nutty. Case in point -- check this out. You know what? It's worth it. The guy is so funny. Such a truly good guy. If you ended up with it, you'd enjoy it. He's that much fun. You can also find more about John here.

I think that's it for now. It's late. I'm tired.

What else? I got nothin'.

Noah's Ark

2007-04-16T12:41:00.000-04:00

So this is what Noah felt like?

Ugh. The basement water issue is back.

The crazy Nor'easter blew through over the last 36 hours. Nothing in the basement until 11:30 last night when it started seeping in. That's the kiss of death. We don't get a huge flood, we get constant seepage.

As in the type that requires using the shop vac, oh, I don't know, every 15 minutes. It's horrible.

It's also more than $7,000 to fix. Needless to say, I'm pretty good with the shop vac. We get water when nobody else seems to. Very strange. It's been on and off since we've been in the house.

But, I'm also home from work in order to do it. Can't really have a wife who is seven months pregnant doing the work.

So, even though the rain has stopped (for now), the water continues.

What else? I got nothin'.

One of Those Days

2007-04-04T13:01:00.000-04:00

We've all had one of those days. You know, the kind of day that just sucks.

The kind of day when you get pissed at stuff for no apparent reason. The kind of day when, let's face it, today is Wednesday, but it's already been such a long week, it feels like it should be Wednesday of next week already.

Well. Guess what?

Today is one of those days. And, the thing is, I'm not even sure why. But, here are five possibilities:

Maybe it's because I'm suffering from a lack of natural light in my new office. Oh, you don't know about my new office? You know, the one with two windows instead of five? And, the one with a crooked floor.

Maybe it's because my son has been sick, my wife has been sick and I've been trying not to get sick. Nobody is as fun when they are sick -- especially me.

Maybe the wind, rain and impending cold have me down. Perhaps Mother Nature is punishing me for breaking out the short sleeve shirts before April 1?

Maybe I just can't get over that more than 30 million people are going to keep Sanjaya on American Idol for yet another week.

Maybe I'm cranky because I'm craving cookies. Of course, I had cookies in my lunch. But, I was also hungry at 10 a.m., which is when I ate my cookies. So, now I sit here simply cookieless.

It could be one of those. It could be two of those. It could even be all of those.

If I figure it out, I'll let you know.

What else? I got nothin'.

P.S. I'm thinking it might be the cookies.

Too or Two? Doesn't Matter.

2007-03-28T09:05:00.000-04:00

So, I drop my son off every morning at my mother-in-laws. Getting goodbye hugs has been a regular thing lately. Getting an "I love you, daddy" isn't always the easiest.

This morning, as I was getting him out of the car seat to go in the house, I said, "Love you, buddy."

No response.

"Love you, too, daddy," I said, trying to encourage a response (I couldn't help it).

What I got was unexpected -- and funny.

"Love you one, daddy."

I'll take it.

What else? I got nothin'.

Welcome, Anna

2007-03-26T13:03:00.000-04:00

Loyal readers, if you think I'm funny (ok, even if it's just a bit) and you like some of what you find here, check out this new blog started by my friend, Anna.

She's a mom with two cute kids. And, if you like reading about kids and (funny) parenting stuff, then you'll like what you find here.

Give her a read. And, tell her Mike sent you.

What else? I got nothin'.

Daddy Duty -- Part Two

2007-03-21T22:20:00.000-04:00

So Day Two of Daddy Duty meant preschool.

My son goes twice a week for two hours a day. There are six kids in the class, two boys and four girls. There are two phenomenal teachers who are very welcoming to parents who want to visit for a while.

I had visited one other time for a bit, but it had been a while, so I thought it would be fun to spend some more time in the classroom. My plan was to drop him off at the start and then return with about 40 minutes left.

I get a kick out of seeing him in an area I rarely see him in. It's fun just to watch and follow him as he leads me through his routine. We walked in and then he put his backpack in his own cubby, and then he took his jacket off and hung that up, too. I was ready to go in to the room, but he told me we couldn't because a teacher wasn't inside yet. Oh.

The teacher came, he went in, and I was then virtually non-existent. That alone is a huge change. He's a very private kid. Has mostly kept to himself. But, the good news, is that the teachers have said (and we see it, too) that he is really coming out of his shell.

So I then left for a bit and came back at 10:30.

It was too cold outside, so they were playing in a large social room at the school. My son, on his own, was playing with some construction trucks. We quickly got into that together, and after a few minutes, it was time to go back in the classroom.

Here was one of the impressive parts. Getting him (or any 2.5 year old) to wash hands is not always easy. But, the teacher says, "ok, boys and girls, time to wash hands" and they all walk right to the bathroom and line up against the wall. One teacher squirts soap in their hands and they begin scrubbing.

Then, the other teacher stands at the sink, calls them over one at a time and they rinse and dry off. It was incredibly cute to watch.

Back in the room, it was time for a project focused on identifying shapes. They had a piece of paper with a number of shapes on it. The kids had to name the shape and then glue a piece of paper in that shape and affix it to the paper.

I had never seen my son use a glue stick. Didn't even know he could. Well, he could. When he finished, he just got up, didn't say a word and took the paper out to the hall.

Nobody said a word -- not even one of the teachers. But, I'm there thinking, Ok, where's he going? More importantly, why aren't one of his teachers following him?

Well, 20 seconds later, when he was back in the room -- but without his paper, I got the answer.

"Where did you go, bud? And where's your paper?"

"Put it right in cubby to go home, Daddy."

I caught the teacher's eye at that point and she just smiled and nodded. I mean, this wasn't the most important thing in the world, but, again, it's just nice to see him come out of his shadow and know what he can and can't do at school.

So toward the end of the class, I went outside the classroom. That's where all the parents wait to pick up their kids.

A few minutes later, he came right out with his coat on, a smile on his face and his attention turned toward his cubby, where he retrieved not only his backpack, but the project he worked on earlier.

He brought it right up close to show me -- even though I had already seen it when he was working on it.

That's OK, though. I'm not going to complain at all with a kid, that at his age, is excited to show off the work he did at school. Even if I did help him put it together just a few minutes earlier.

That's not the point. the point is, my son loves school -- at least for now!

What else? I got nothin'.

Daddy Duty -- Part One

2007-03-21T21:40:00.000-04:00

My wife and I are quite fortunate to have her mom watching our son every day while we're working. It just makes it very easy all around. Can't beat family. It's that simple.

But, hey, everyone needs a break. So, for the last week, my mother-in-law has been in Florida, which means we had to juggle care of our son between ourselves and a friend who has watched him before.

So, for me, that means Daddy Duty. The way everything played out, I was to have him twice, essentially for a day and a half. But, within that day and half were two significant events -- story time at the library the first day and preschool the second day.

I figure, hey, you like everything I read -- or at least I hope you do. That being the case, you might get a kick out of my experiences during this time I was 'on duty.'

In this post, we'll tackle story time. Preschool will be its own post.

I do consider myself very active with my son, and I love every minute we have together. However, I will admit to feeling my stress level go up (just a bit!) when I'm, well, the 'man in charge' for a set period.

So story time at the library was our first activity. We were a bit early and my son led me right into the room where things happen. I saw other kids and moms when we first walked in, but, hey, my son's 2.5, he knows where to go. He does this every week. Not me.

I did what anyone would do -- I followed the person who's done it before! But, after he took his place on the mat and I was trying to figure out where I should sit, nobody else was coming in the room. Finally, the 'teacher' comes in and told me that the kids normally gather on the other side until they are all there before coming in.

I plead ignorance and told her I was simply following instructions -- for a near three-year old. She smiled.

Then the moms come in. So it's me and five moms. I'm normally ok with that, but I do admit to feeling a little self-conscious, perhaps even out of my element. I shouldn't have thought that. But I did.

I was sitting in a chair in the back of the room, giving my son his independence for this program. But, with that, all the moms come in and sit around the mat or against the wall near the mat. Well, I can't just sit back there, right? I get off the chair and sit on the floor -- just like the moms. Ok, I thought, I'm good with this.

What amazed me at that point was not how much the moms did -- but rather, what they didn't do. The 'teacher' was reading books about airplanes. Well, a couple of the kids stood up, walked to her and pointed to different things in the book while she was trying to read to the group. She was clearly annoyed and, I think, was waiting for the moms to do something.

Only they didn't. At least not at first.

Finally, after about the fourth time with a couple of the kids, two of the moms actually made an effort to follow the teacher's instructions and not have the kids just getting up and going to point at the book.

And, I'll admit, I was nervous thinking about what would happen if my son got up and did something. Would I react the 'right' way? Wait a minute. I shouldn't worry about this. He is just 2.5 afterall. And, whose to judge if my reaction would have been right?

But, you know what? I didn't have to worry at all. He followed directions well and simply sat and enjoyed the stories.

I did, too. And, yes, I can't help it. I was proud. Oh so proud.

Not just of my son though. But also of me.

Afterall, I made it through story time.

What else? I got nothin'.

Catching Up

2007-03-17T20:45:00.000-04:00

Faithful readers, I have returned.

No excuses for my disappearance, if you will, just a lot going on. I'm sure you understand. And, well, if you don't, there's nothing I can do to change your mind. Or is there?

So, to get us back in the swing of things, how about a few random items for you to consider?

It's St. Patrick's Day. Makes me think of the Ireland trip we took in 1998. Lot's of great memories. Can't wait to go back -- some day. Been listening to a lot of Irish music lately, too. Have you discovered the Boston Irish rockers Dropkick Murphys? If you haven't, download Kiss Me I'm Shitfaced. You won't be disappointed.

The annual corned beef dinner will be tomorrow. Perhaps with a Shamrock Shake. What's a Shamrock Shake, you ask? Only the best thing McDonald's has ever created. It's a mint-flavored shaked that is, you guessed it, green. I've thought about an entire post about my affection for the Shamrock Shake, but I'm worried you'd think less of me after that. So while it pains me, I'm limiting my Shamrock Shake posting to just this paragraph.

So the NCAA tournament is happening. I didn't fill out a bracket this year. Can't even remember the last time I didn't do one. Perhaps I'm suffering from March Madness. Heck, can't even tell you the four number one seeds.

Opening Day is only two weeks away though. That I'm excited for -- partially because it starts the Fantasy Baseball season, too.

Admit it, you've missed me.

I'll admit this, I'm jazzed up for the start of the new Dancing with the Stars season. Cheryl, the pro dancer who has won the last two seasons with Drew Lachey and Emmit Smith, has been paired with Ian Zeiring. Let's see how good she really is. If she can get Steve Sanders to win this thing, then she is, well, amazing. The only way to reward her? Her own sandwich at the Peach Pit.

Speaking of TV...I was ready to give up on LOST. But, the last few episodes have been pretty good. So, Jack, Kate, Hurley, Sayid and others, I'm still with you.

Are you still with me? Good.

I think that's all for now.

What else? I got nothin.

Pool? Who Needs a Pool?

2007-03-05T10:23:00.000-05:00

So, a short one, but this was classic, so I wanted to share it.

We eventually will have a pool in our backyard. So, sitting around the table this weekend, I said to my son, who turns 3 in May:

"What do you think about us having a pool one day?"

"Don't need a pool, daddy," he said. "Have bathtub upstairs."

Can't argue with his logic, that's for sure!

What else? I got nothin'.

Pet Peeves

2007-02-27T12:18:00.000-05:00

Well, the last post set a record with 11 comments -- not that I'm keeping track or anything like that. Not sure this one will top that mark, but I do want your feedback once you've read through this.

But, what is this, you ask?

It's a list of some of my pet peeves.

Wipe the snow off your car. This isn't hard, people. And, I'm not just talking about getting it off your windows. I'm talking about getting it off the top of your car. You know, so it doesn't fly back as you accelerate and land on my windshield.

You're in the wrong line! Twelve items or less means just that. It doesn't mean 13. And it certainly doesn't mean 18. The thing about this, I'm just as pissed at the register person here as I am for the person violating the rule. If it looks like more, tell them to go in the other line. Or, if you aren't sure, but you count as you go, tell them next time to go in the other line. This is why we have rules.

In or out. Which is first? Ok, so I'm on the elevator (or the subway) and my door opens. You know what? I've got the right of way. That's right, let me out before you get on. I hate that. You're not going to get anywhere faster if you get on first, because I've still got to get off. And, you getting on first, well, you just made that more difficult.

You can't wait 10 seconds? I have road rage. I'm the first to admit. But I think I got it from being in situations where you're driving down the road with nobody behind you for as far as you can see. Then, what's that? It's an idiot pulling out in front of you and then slowing you down to an absolute crawl. Wait until I go by (about 10 seconds) and then do what you please.

There's no such thing -- as a first annual! I hate reading about a First Annual Anything. You know what, unless you've had one, it can't be that! Try just "first" or "innaugural." Ah, so much better.

Hello. Goodbye. When we're talking on the phone, don't end our conversation with "Bye now." It's not "now." It's just "bye." Of course it's now, because that's when you said it, but you don't have to announce to the world that you're saying bye at that exact moment!

Dumb walkers. You know this one. You're in the mall, leaving a concert or sporting event. Anything with a significant number of people walking at the same time. Well, stick to the rules. Stay on the right. The worst thing you can do? Stop on a dime when people are behind you. Doesn't matter if there's something you see or someone you need to talk to. Get out of the way of others before carrying on your business.

I'm sure I'll think of more. But, what do you think? Tell me one (or more) of your pet peeves.

What else? I got nothin'.

Weird? For You to Decide

2007-02-20T14:16:00.000-05:00

OK. So I'm still relatively new to this whole blog thing. But, safe to say, I think, that we're off to a good start.

This post represents a milestone in my blogging life. I've been tagged. Not exactly sure what that means. I mean, I didn't feel anything. I just know I'm tagged. And, in the blog world, that means I'm supposed to follow through with the request -- which is to tell you, my faithful readers, six weird things about me.

Without further adieu, here goes:

1. I hate wrinkles. Not the kind on skin. The kind on clothes. I can't leave the house without ironing. Just can't do it. Sometimes, if I'm dressed in a shirt and tie, I'll even go so far as to hold my seatbelt off my shirt because I don't want it to wrinkle. One time, when wearing a shirt prone to wrinkles, I avoided hugging my wife in the morning. Didn't want her to wrinkle me! Pathetic I know, but what are you going to do? It's weird.

2. I put mustard on my hamburgers. No ketchup at all. Only put ketchup on meatloaf. And even then, it's not on the meatloaf. The ketchup goes on the side of the plate and then I dunk the meatloaf in the ketchup with my fork.

3. Going back to the wrinkle thing, sometimes I put my shoes and socks on before I put on my pants. Great visual, I know. But, it doesn't wrinkle the pants! I just re-read that. I need help.

4. More often than not, I'll read a magazine from back to front.

5. My iPod has, among many acts, New Kids on the Block. N'Sync. Backstreet Boys. LFO. And, um, yeah, I'm 37.

6. I won't drink soda out of a plastic bottle unless it has been refrigerated before it's been opened. It just tastes different. Really.

OK...I'm not tagging anyone. So nobody else has to reveal about themselves. Yet.

What else? I got nothin'.

Ask Questions, Get Answers

2007-02-14T19:30:00.000-05:00

I love how this works.

I ask questions, you give answers.

An anonymous source gave me this link in answer to the rocks on the roof question:

http://www.straightdope.com/classics/a3_287.html

And, if you didn't read the comments about the why do they announce drunk and driving check points, there's this from my college roommate turned lawyer. He says:

I can offer some insight into the publication of checkpoint locations: it's called the Constitution. You see, here in America (at least before the Bush Administration gets through with it)we have certain freedoms. One of those freedoms is to be free of unreasonable search and seizures, which a traffic stop certainly may constitute. An unconstitutional stop is one made by the police w/out a reasonable and articulable suspicion. A checkpoint involves just such a situation, so to counterbalance the clear lack of a reasonable and articulable suspicion the Courts have held that the police must do certain things, like publish notice, hold the checkpoint in a place likely to find drunk drivers and establish (or pre-establish, if I could make a play on a previous blog -- one that I was clearly the inspiration for) guidelines to prevent cops from pulling over, say, only the white Irish lawyers or the African-Americans (that's why they have to stop every other car, or every third car, etc...).

Thanks, Chris.

Now, here's a question I'm not sure anyone can answer.

I'm in the grocery store last night buying Valentine's Day cards. Me and 50 other guys. Well, one guy is walking around so proudly with his gift for his significant other.

What is it, you ask?

How about one of those ginormous chocolate chip cookies. It gets better. This one was in the shape of a heart, and it had blue frosting around the edge and in the middle where it said Happy Valentine's Day.

I mean, who in their right mind brings that home? And, if they do, who in their right mind actually enjoys getting it?

That's all for now.

What else? I got nothin'.

Two Things I Don't Get

2007-02-13T09:15:00.000-05:00

Faithful readers, I give you two posts in two days. Can you stand it?

These two things are ones that are worthy of mention, but perhaps not worthy of a full rant. So, you get the combined effort.

Here we go:

Ever notice what's on the roof of many commercial buildings, i.e., hospitals, schools, industrial buildings. I'm talking about flat roof buildings.

Why are there rocks on a flat roof? Have you noticed this? I have. I remember the first time I saw it was on the college dorm I lived in freshman year. Most recently, it was on the roof of one of our local casinos.

I don't understand. Explain it to me, please.

Secondly...

The local paper this morning continued what seems to be a regular practice, at least in these parts. They announce when and -- get this -- where the next drunk driving checkpoints will be. They are as clear as saying on this date we'll be on this road.

Now, in now way shape or form am I advocating driving under the influence, but if someone out there sees this and knows they are going to be out that night and may have a few drinks, why are we telling them exactly where the cops will be?

Attention all drunks, avoid Route 32, on St. Patrick's Day. The cops are going to be there.

Again, I don't understand. Explain it to me, please.

What else? I got nothin'.

Pay It Forward

2007-02-12T20:19:00.000-05:00

Remember that movie? Pay It Forward.

Kevin Spacey. Helen Hunt. Haley Joel Osment. I think.

The premise: do something good. It's the right thing to do.

Well, I've got to do it now.

Why?

Because of the keys.

I lost mine in December. Had them on top of the car. Wife took off for the store. Keys fell off. Search after search after search on the street turned up nothing.

Well, the other night, I'm kicked back in the recliner watching TV. It's 9:30. Now, we don't have an official 9 and 9 rule regarding the phone, but whenever it rings late, you always wonder. At least I do.

I couldn't understand why the Stop & Shop manager was calling me. Until he asked the question:

"Did you lose a set of keys?"

Sure did. Two months ago now.

"Well, they are here."

Couldn't believe it. Someone clearly found them and saw my Stop & Shop card on them. They brought them to the store because of that, and the store was able to track me down. The manager thought they were found in the store. But, not in the condition they were, having been run over a few times.

Still, I had two car keys, two house keys, an office key and my speedpass on there.

Nonetheless, someone, whom I'll never know, found them and did the right thing by bringing them back.

Now it's my turn.

To Pay It Forward.

What else? I got nothin'.

Emptying a Cluttered Mind

2007-02-02T12:39:00.000-05:00

Ok, loyal lurkers, it's OK to post comments. I know you've got them, because you've mentioned them to me when we talk. Feel free to say it here. I won't bite.

Super Bowl is Sunday. I couldn't care less. I almost feel less American for writing that. But, without my team in it (when they should be), it's really all about commercials for me. And snacks.

New musical favorites: Mat (yup, only one 't') Kearney, Death Cab for Cutie and Augustana. They have finally taken over Dora the Explorer songs as 'most played' on my iPod.

Word pet peeve: you can't have a first annual anything. It can't be annual if it hasn't happened yet!

Word pet peeve #2: there is no pre-heating the oven. Once you turn it on, guess what? It's heating! The only time your oven, then, is pre-heating is when it's not on.

Word pet peeve #3: the same goes for pre-boarding an airplane. "Children traveling alone, those with special needs, you can now pre-board." No you can't. Once you start toward the plane, guess what? You're boarding!

Sorry. That stuff just drives me crazy.

I'm watching the American Idol auditions for the first time. And liking it. There, I said it. I like to watch people be made fun of. You do, too.

Fun kid comment of the week. The boy was playing with his Thomas engines, specifically Gordon and Henry. "Gordon and Henry friends, daddy."

"That's right, buddy, they are. Who, though, is your best buddy?"

"Mommy and Daddy."

Aw, man.

No real weekend plans. And that's OK.

Not one funny thing in this blog. That's not OK.

What else? I got nothin'.

Anything But a Super Sunday

2007-01-30T00:13:00.000-05:00

Note: My Dad died seven years ago today. This is for him. And for me.

The Rams were playing the Titans in the NFL championship game. But for me, Sunday, January 30, 2000, was anything but super.

That's the day my Dad died.

(It was hard to type that -- even now.)

I'll never forget the last time I saw him. It was Sunday, January 23. My wife and I were living in Vermont at the time -- nearly five hours away.

When it was clear things weren't going to turnaround, I started coming home every weekend to see my Dad. We had a routine of sorts. We'd sit in the TV room and watch whatever college basketball game was on.

At the end of the game, I'd get up to leave. He'd get up, too, although it wasn't easy for him. And it definitely wasn't easy for me to see him this way. That didn't matter when he shook my hand, though. As firm and as strong as ever, regardless of what was happening to the rest of his body.

I told him I would see him next week.

"Stay home," he told me. "I know you have plans for the game. I'll see you the following week."

Oh how I wish that were true.

Instead, I suffered from the cruelest of ironies. The one weekend I didn't come home (at least initially), is the weekend, well, you know.

We did have plans to watch the game with friends. And then the phone rang Sunday morning. It was my brother, Tom. In short, Tom told me things had gotten worse for my Dad. Everyone was at the house. I should come home.

This was about noon. The call itself wasn't a surprise. The timing was. That's why it took a few hours for my wife and I to get all we needed together before heading home. I had to make work arrangements, as did she. We had to pack for a prolonged visit. Finally, we were on the road. I think it was about 3 p.m.

Looking back, that's what I most wish I could change about that day. Either that my family would have called me earlier. Or that we could have gotten out of the house and on the road quicker.

Why?

Because I wasn't there when he died.

My wife and I would stop every hour or so and give updates on how close we were and get updates from my family.

I'll never forget the phone call I made from a phone booth outside a Mobile Station in Greenfield, MA.

"Making good time," I told my brother, Tim, who answered the phone. "Probably another hour and a half."

"Michael," he said. "Dad died a little while ago."

I just stood there. I don't remember what I said. But I remember what Tim said:

"The nurse said it was getting close. We were all there. We all took turns saying goodbye."

I must have shown some sign of emotion, because the next thing I remember was my wife giving me a big hug outside the phone booth.

She drove the rest of the way, and I cried for about the next 15 to 20 minutes. While i know what Tim meant, he was wrong. We weren't all there. We didn't all take turns saying goodbye.

I wasn't there. I didn't get to say goodbye until two days later when I finally saw him at the funeral home.

I'll probably never get over that part. That I wasn't there. That I didn't come home that weekend. I think about that. A lot.

I also think about what my Dad has missed. My son will never know his Papa O. He includes him in his prayers, and we light a candle every week at church for him, because he knows "Papa O is in heaven."

But, he'll never see the Papa O look my Dad used to give one of my nieces and my three nephews. He'll never see my dad umpire a baseball game, or perform a card trick for him. And he'll never have the chance to hear my dad tell him a story or help him learn a new word.

The two biggest things that my Dad missed? Seeing my sister and me as parents. I think about him holding my sister's daughter and telling her how lucky she is to have Lynn as a Mom. And I think about him talking to my son, trying to be serious as he listens to him, but seeing him barely able to hold back a smile.

One of the more selfish things I think about is something that didn't happen -- but that I wish did. As I said, my Dad died on Sunday. His hospice nurse later told us that my Dad's plan for Monday was to write letters to each of us kids. He never got the chance. And there are times when I wonder if he did, what mine would say.

Would he tell me that he was sorry he called me out on three straight strikes when he umpired one of my first Little League games, or would he tell me that he knew one day I would make a good Dad?

Either one would be more than OK.

I can't help it. These are the things I think about. My Dad died seven years ago. And I wasn't there.

Miss you, Dad.

Concert Critique

2007-01-21T14:25:00.000-05:00

Wife and I went to see Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band last night.

He was fabulous. Much better than expected. His voice was incredibly strong. And, while he might not have the best stage presence, it wasn't half bad for someone who is 61.

But, I'm not here to review the performance of Seger and friends, other than what I've already written.

No. I'm here to write about some of the 9,000 people that were at the show with us.

See, concerts, if anything, are an amazing place to people watch -- particularly at a show like this when the average age of the audience is, well, on the older side of things.

I'm a music guy. I've been to, oh, I don't know, a lot of live shows. Easily more than 50. At this point, it's probably closer to 100.

Many of the things you see at concerts are universal. Some have been happening for a long time. Some, well, are newer, dare I say it, 'traditions.'

For instance, I'm sure you've noticed the guy (because, for some reason, it is a guy who does this 9 times out of 10) who has his cellphone to his ear. He's not calling home to check in on the babysitter. He's calling the guy he knows half way around the arena so they can wave to each other.

I mean, are you kidding? What's the point here? And, I've gotta think it's always the guy in the better seats that initiates the call. You know. To rub it in that he has better seats. This, and many other things, are even funnier when it's a 45-year-old guy doing it.

My other new favorite thing to mock is the high fivers. You know, the group of buddies who are coming to the show together. They get so excited about a song, that when it's over, they have to give each other high fives. You're kidding me, right? No, apparently they aren't. Get. A. Life.

The waver is another favorite. Most times, artists will move from side of the stage to other to give everyone a chance to get an up close look at the star. I love this. Because it's then that you always see people wave their hands like crazy and scream at the top of their lungs. Now, keep in mind, the guy on stage can't see a damned thing with the lights, but the fans are certain they saw them wave or whatnot.

My other least favorite thing is after a show. When 9,000 people leave one place, it can get a little crowded. That's fine. Just learn how to walk. Please.

Don't you just love the couple, for example, that decides to literally stop in the middle of an area to discuss something -- causing everyone behind them to change their walking plan (what, you don't have one?) on the fly. Move it to the side and then have your discussion. Don't you dare have it in the middle of my walking plan.

I mean, the nerve of people.

So, what drives you crazy at a concert?

What else? I got nothin'.

What's In a Name?

2007-01-18T20:23:00.000-05:00

I listen to just about anything. Always have. Probably always will. Heck, I even listen to (some) country now. Thanks to the amazing Jennifer Nettles.

I'll be the parent in 15 years bringing one of my kids to a concert. You know the parent. The one that's rocking out and singing all the songs -- making their kid(s) feel like a dope. Yup, that'll be me. Particularly if Bon Jovi is still touring in 15 years.

Anyway, the iPod is perhaps the greatest invention in, oh, I don't know -- ever.

And with it comes my addiction to iTunes.

I've listened to some strange music in my day. Being a college DJ will do that to you. I used to (well, OK, maybe I still do) love bands called Nikki Meets the Hibachi, Scruffy the Cat, The Beat Farmers, Webb Wilder and the Lightning Seeds.

Well, to me, good music is good music. And that's all I want to listen to -- good music.

The group name really doesn't matter. Afterall, consider the names of groups I've recently downloaded: Hinder, The Fray, Snow Patrol, Augustana and, perhaps my new favorite, Death Cab for Cutie.

I'm not even sure what that means. But I love the music. So I'm in.

He's got a pretty normal name, but Mat Kearney is also a new favorite. Of course, he's just got one t in Mat, so I guess he isn't all that normal.

So, what's hot on your iPod? Any strange band names that you love?

What else? I got nothin'.

From the Mouths of Babes...

2007-01-10T20:26:00.000-05:00

My son turns three in May.

He's never met one of his grandfathers as my Dad passed away seven years ago this month.

But, every week at church, we light a candle for Papa O. That was my son's idea.

And, each night before bed, while doing prayers, we always ask God to bless Papa O, who my son says "is up in heaven."

So, tonight, it was a boys' night. My wife is out at book club. So, after dinner (at McDonald's, of course), we headed home to play Thomas the Tank Engine.

After bath and getting dressed, he got in the crib. I read a few books and then it was time for prayers.

"Where's Papa O?" I asked.

"In heaven, daddy."

"That's right, buddy."

"Where is heaven, daddy?"

"Way up high in the sky."

"Papa O house up there?"

"Yes. That's where he is. Looking down at us."

"I go there?"

"Someday, yes, you will go there and meet Papa O."

"Toys in heaven, daddy?"

"Lots of things in heaven, buddy."

"Sounds good, daddy."

It sure does, buddy. It sure does.

What else? I got nothin'.

Final Thoughts on 2006

2006-12-31T20:32:00.000-05:00

Well, it's almost over.

2006, that is.

But, fear not, loyal readers, I am here for you -- providing one last post for you this year. I have given up my New Year's Eve plans so that I could be here for you.

Yeah, right. Actually, New Year's Eve hasn't really been a big party time for me. Can't even remember the last party I was at to celebrate it. Will try to watch the ball drop tonight, but I'll inevitably end up falling asleep in my chair, waking up at like 1:30 and going, Damn, missed it again.

You can tell I'm concerned.

Some final ramblings for the year:

Happy Birthday, Molly. No need for a card, right? I know you're reading this.

My son, who has decided that, apparently, I'm the meanest man in the world, forgot about that for a minute tonight to say, "Happy New Year, Daddy." No matter how tough a day it had been, all was right with the world once he said that.

I'm going to try and watch Saw tonight. Fun New Year's Eve entertainment, I know.

Still have our Christmas tree up. Longest we've gone. Probably will come down tomorrow.

I took this entire week off, but it always goes by sooo fast. Lots on the do list at the start of the week. Lots there now.

Haven't made up a list of resolutions yet. But, I hope to do that. The last few years, I've done pretty well in that department.

How long into 2007 before I stop writing 2006 on checks and stuff?

Why was I sitting at the computer the other night waiting to see who was first to have pictures of Saddam?

New Year's Eve....and no snow yet. Weird.

2006 was a very good year. No complaints anywhere.

2007 -- sure to be an amazing one as well.

Especially June 20.

Because that's the due date of our second child. Gulp.

What else? I got nothin'.

The Magic of Christmas

2006-12-28T00:04:00.000-05:00

The Christmas whirlwind has ended -- I think.

But, while I wonder how this post-Christmas week (which I always take for vacation) always go by so fast, it's fun to remember some of the very cool things that happened during any of our three Christmases.

First, my family gathers at my mom's on Christmas Eve. Chinese food is the traditional meal before presents. Then, we gather in the living room, over stuffing it as best we can.

I have three siblings. This year, we decided to draw names among siblings and spouses/significant others. It worked out pretty well. We bought for one person in that group and then everyone bought for the kids.

Despite that plan, however, it seemed like there were more gifts than ever under Mom's always great-looking tree.

My son opened his first package and basically threw it down in disgust. It was sort of funny. He got clothes as his first present....and while all the other clothes he got were a hit, this first present wasn't so much a winner. A toy would have been better. But, what can you do.

He did amazingly well and got lots of great stuff.

Then, Christmas morning was at our house. He was into Christmas so much this year. Totally getting everything. My wife and I were excited for what Christmas morning was going to be like. He woke up at 6 a.m., which was great. For the first 10 minutes as he woke up, it was like a normal day. We were just talking to him in his crib, nothing major.

Then, it was like something went off in his head...he sort of stopped in the middle of talking, looked quizzically at us both and said, "Santa come?"

And from that point on, the next two hours were pure magic. I'll never do it justice with words, but it might have been the most fun time yet as a parent. This was just the perfect age for him and Christmas. So innocent. So fun.

Then, after our house, we did it all over again -- this time at my in-laws. We went over for breakfast and then did our third set of presents in less than 24 hours. Pretty good odds for a 2 1/2 year old. More great stuff for him. More smiles. More wonder. More just pure Christmas joy.

I knew it would be fun this year. But this was more than I could have imagined.

What else? I got nothin'.

Wednesday Ramblings

2006-12-20T12:44:00.000-05:00

A few odds and ends for you on this hump day. It's a big hump for me, actually. Today is my last day of work until January 2. Can I get a woo-hoo?!

Woo-hoo.

There, much better.

First up, have to share something with you from my son, who is two-and-a-half. We're working diligently on potty training. We are trying to get him to spend less and less time in diapers during the day. Knowing that, here's how a conversation went this morning:

Him: Daddy, I have diaper on?

Me: Yes, buddy, you do.

Him: Moments of silence why he does his 'work.'

Me: Ok, buddy, let's get you cleaned up before we have to go.

Him: Not done, daddy.

Me: Still poopin'?

Him: One more poop, Daddy. Yes, sir!

The "yes, sir" was hysterical. You probably had to be there.

Ok, next up....

I mentioned how our office is getting a number of gifts from vendors. Again, I appreciate the thought and the effort. I really do.

But, here's the thing: All boxes of assorted chocolates need to have a map or guide included. this way, you wont' bite into the creamy nougat flavored one (which you then have to throw away) when you really wanted to bite into the white chocolate truffle.

Do we need government legislation on this? How can we protect our interest to know that we'll never bite into crappy chocolate again?

And, speaking of chocolate, don't mix fruit with my chocolate. Forget about raspberry or strawberry -- or, god forbid, orange -- flavored chocolate. If I want chocolate. That's all I want.

Shopping's not done. Not feeling too stressed. Yet.

What else? I got nothin'.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2006-12-19T11:34:00.000-05:00

Ok, consider this the official Christmas rambling entry.

Here goes.

I realized this year that I'm fine with the standard form letter that comes in Christmas cards. I was never a big fan. But this year, I realized, you know what, they come from people that are my friends. If not, why are they on the card list in the first place? So, if I don't talk to them that often, isn't it good to catch up with them -- even if it's through a letter that me and God knows how many other people are getting?

Speaking of Christmas cards, I think it's funny -- very funny -- when you get a card from a couple and one person (usually the woman) writes out the greeting and then signs her name, followed by the guy just signing his name. It just looks funny. At least to me.

Gift baskets. Gift baskets. Gift baskets. The office is loading up on gifts from vendors. The early favorites? Ginger lemon cookies, some cheesey sourdough things, peanuts that don't really taste like peanuts (yet we like them) and, of course, chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

I just realized this morning that I haven't heard the Hanukkah song once this year.

My son has a new job at home -- plugging in the Christmas tree each morning. Not sure which is brighter...the lights on the tree or the magic in his eyes.

I'm all for charity. I really am. But how annoying is that Salvation Army bell?

In other office gift news. I've had someone plant a tree in my name, as well as someone donating a bike in my name.

That's nice and all. But, don't these people know that there are other things I need.

What else? I got nothin.

All You Have to Do is Ask

2006-12-13T12:37:00.000-05:00

It's amazing sometimes, how asking a simple question can benefit you in the long run.

I'm incredibly anal about customer service. I expect it. And I expect it to be great. And if it's not, I'm the guy who complains about it.

See the sign on a truck in front of you, "How's my driving?" Well, I'm the guy who tells him.

It's always fun to see how things work, too. Got my credit card bill the other day. We always pay the balance in full. But, due to paycheck timing and the Thanksgiving holiday, my check apparently arrived on the same day it was due. Citibank tagged me with a $39 late fee and then finance charges to boot.

So, I called them up and explained that I was a longtime customer who always paid on time and given the holiday, could they please wipe the charge. "No problem, sir, we'd be happy to." Saved myself $45 with a 30 second phone call.

Had something weird on my Directv bill the other day, too. It wasn't a charge, but I didn't understand something, so I called to make sure that I eventually understood what they said. Then, during the conversation, the phone rep makes some reference to my past experiences with the company.

At that point, I said I was always happy, even after my first year when they gave me a month of Showtime just for lasting a year with Directv. He said they appreciate that type of feedback. So I said, well, how can I get that again? Do you ever run promos or anything.

He then offered me three-free months of all the Showtime channels.

"What's the catch?" I asked.

"No catch, sir."

"None?"

"Nothing at all. We just want to keep you as a customer."

They sure will. And I'm glad I asked.

So, what else? I got nothin'.

Where Do You Sit?

2006-12-05T13:13:00.000-05:00

Faitful readers, thank you for the response to the last question. An interesting topic. As I think this one is, too.

Now that I know where you sleep, I want to know where you sit.

I'm talking about when you go out to dinner with your significant other. So, two of you at the restaurant.

Now, there are two scenarios in play here.

First, the booth:

Do you sit across from each other? Or, do you sit on the same side of the booth, leaving the opposite side empty?

I could never imagine sitting on the same side as my wife. I just don't get that. Besides the fact that it looks strange, doesn't it hurt your neck if you have to keep turning to talk to the other person?

The only time I can see sitting on the same side as your signficant other in a booth is if you are with another couple (or kids or something). But, when it's just the two of you, I just can't figure that out.

Second scenario, the table:

Ok, so it's just two of you again. This time, you're sitting at a table with four chairs. Where do you sit? Do you face each other on opposite sides of the table? Or, doe you sit 'next' to each other by sitting at perpendicular sides of the table?

This one is a little more flexible, I think. Again, my wife and I would typically be opposite of each other. That's not always the case, though. I can't think of a scenario right now, but I know we have abandoned the opposite thing once or twice. It's more of a case-by-case basis than the booth scenario.

So, my faithful readers, where do you sit?

What else? I got nothin'.

Where Do You Sleep?

2006-11-30T22:17:00.000-05:00

Faithful readers, a question for you. Actually, a question for those of you who are in fact sharing a bed with a partner.

Where do you sleep?

No smart remarks like, "in a bed."

The thing is this. Stand at the foot of the bed.

Using that perspective, I'm guessing 90 percent of the guys sleep on the right half of the bed and that women are sleeping on the left side.

First of all, am I right?

Secondly, what's the deal? Is this weird?

Or is it just me?

Wait. Don't answer that.

So, let's hear it.

What else? I got nothin'.

I'm Baaaaaaack

2006-11-17T11:30:00.000-05:00

Loyal readers, your patience has been tested. And, today, it is rewarded.

I have awaken from my slumber. I am back. And you reap the benefits.

So many topics. Where do I start? Well, how about some random thoughts so I can catch you up on things in my world.

After all, isn't that why you're here?

Is Thanksgiving really next week? I love Thanksgiving. Why? Because I love cranberry sauce in the can. And here's the thing about that. It's not sauce. If it were sauce, why would it be like jello? Don't you pour a sauce? That's my judgment on whether or not something is a sauce. Try it. You can't poor cranberry sauce (the smooth kind, I'm talking about) out of a can. But, that's the name. And I love it.

I'm sick and tired of the "mid-season" or "fall" finale in TV land. What's up with that?

I love my son. Can't love any more than I love him. We're potty training. (He's 2 and 1/2.) We've got the nighttime thing down pat. So now we're working on other times during the day. So this morning, I'm eating breakfast, mom's already at work and he's playing with his trains in the other room without a diaper.

Next thing I hear is, "Daddy get potty."

I'm pretty excited at this point. Wow. He could feel it and he told me. He knows what's coming. Well, almost. I get over there to find him with soaking wet sweat pants, a pee puddle on the rug and big 'ol smile on his face. "A went potty." Yes, he did.

I'm 37. I shouldn't get zits.

I understand why construction guys where hard hats when they are on the site. But, my god, why do they where them all the time -- even when they are nowhere near the site? Someone just walked by my window with a hard hat. The site is probalby a half-mile from where he is. Is he afraid of things falling out of the sky and bopping him on the head? Weird.

I'm hungry. Fish and chips at the Portugese Club. Nobody makes fish and chips better than them. Well, except for me when I was the fastest (and best) fry cook in the world 20 years ago.

It's weird that I can say, "20 years ago." Makes me feel crazy old. But I don't feel crazy old. Does that make sense?

That's all for now, I think.

What else? I got nothin'.

Two More Thoughts

2006-11-07T16:33:00.000-05:00

I'm always up for a quickie. So here goes:

I was crazy thirsty this afternoon. So, I coined a phrase. Think about it. If you are starving, you say, "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."

Well, if you're thirsty, what do you say? See what I mean. There's nothing.

Until now.

I know it's horrible, but it's what I came up with on the fly and I'm going to the copyright office on this one.

"I'm so thirsty I could empty a reservoir."

Don't like it? Give me your best effort.

NEWSFLASH -- Britney is divorcing Kevin.

Her career sky rockets. His plummets.

And, Brit, I'm here if you need a shoulder to cry on. (I'm sorry, I'm a fan.)

What else? I got nothin.

Empyting Out a Cluttered Mind...

2006-11-07T13:31:00.000-05:00

Did you vote yet? What are you waiting for!

My son is 2 and 1/2. He said today that he doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up. That's OK, I told him. Daddy doesn't either. I'm 37.

Had a vanilla shake today. Only problem was, it tasted like chocolate. It's like getting french fries that taste like onion rings. Hate that.

I think I'm addicted to eBay. I'm buying Thomas the Tank stuff for my son. Stuff I can't wait to play with! Everything I'm buying is brand new. And I haven't paid anything near regular retail price.

Kirstie Alley in a bikini? I'm sorry. No interest in that.

Cindy Margolis not in a bikini? Much interest in that.

Why aren't you watching Brothers & Sisters?

90210 and Melrose Place are out today. To those of you buying me Christmas presents -- hint, hint.

Why don't they paint lines on the street at night, as opposed to 7:30 this morning in the middle of the morning rush?

What else? I got nothin'.

Enough with the Discrimination

2006-11-06T12:21:00.000-05:00

I'm sick of it. Really. I never thought it would get to this. To a point where I had to appeal to you, loyal readers, for support. But, here we are.

I am fed up with the discrimination.

Not because I'm white.

Not because I'm Catholic.

Not because I'm straight.

Because I drink orange juice.

Yup, I, and others like me, am a victim of discrimination.

Here's the scenario. You've seen it a hundred times. I'll play the starring role.

I'm in a restaurant, let's say it's my and my better half out for breakfast. She orders coffee. First of all, unless you're going to Fourbucks, it's usually only $.99 or something silly like that. In addition, it's always a bottomless cup.

Think about it, how often when you're out to dinner does the waiter/waitress come by and ask, "More coffee?"

Well, no more coffee for me. I don't drink it. I drink orange juice.

Back at the table, after my better half orders coffee, I order a glass of juice. The first problem is the price -- it's at least $1.75, but these days, it's not a surprise to find it more than $2 and sometimes even higher.

But that's just the beginning. There are two more major elements in play.

First, the size. And, ladies (and gentlemen), here's where size matters. I just paid more than $2 for a glass of juice and it's 8 ounces or something foolish like that.

What's worse?

That's just for the one cup. There will be no waiter or waitress coming around asking if I'd like to "refresh" my juice.

See what I'm saying?

Juice drinkers of the world, we must unite.

It's bad enough I always have to answer the question about why I don't drink coffee. But now, I have to, more than ever, defend my choice to drink orange juice. Or, god forbid, defend my choice of asking for a second glass -- of which I know I will have to pay.

Do you feel my pain?

What else? I got nothin'.

They Screw You at the Drive-Thru

2006-11-03T12:49:00.000-05:00

The whole purpose of the drive-thru is convenience.

Be it at a bank, drug store, fast food restaurant or, in some places, even a package store, the point is providing the customer (me!) with a quick experience. No need to get out of the car if you don't have to.

For this rant, we're focusing on the fast food drive thru -- McDonald's in particular.

It's rare that I stop under the golden arches for breakfast. But, this morning was different. Junior woke up late, which threw our typical morning routine off, which meant I didn't have breakfast. So, after dropping him off, I started contemplating breakfast options.

And then it hit me. I hadn't had the world's greatest breakfast sandwich in quite a while.

I'm talking about the Sausage McMuffin with Egg.

Take that back. It's not the greatest breakfast sandwich. It's better than that. In fact, I'll go so far as call it the best fast food sandwich -- breakfast or otherwise.

So, I pull into the drive-thru lane. And then I change my mind. I never change my mind. But, today, I did.

I opted for the McGriddle. Have never had it, so figured why not give that a try. Live on the edge. Think out of the box. Push the envelope. You get the idea.

I pull up to the window, give the guy my money and take my bag (I got the hashbrown, too) and my juice (just wait until you read my rant on the unfair treatment of juice drinkers).

I get to the office, settle in, call up the local daily on the web and start to read while finishing off my hashbrown -- which, for reasons I don't really have, I always eat first.

Then, I reach in my bag and pull out a hefty sandwich in a labelled wrap that says "bacon egg and cheese bagel."

B-A-G-E-L.

You're kidding me. I didn't order a bagel. I ordered a McGriddle. I should have ordered a Sausage McMuffin with Egg, but on this day of great adventure, I go for the McGriddle.

But it's not there.

At this point it's too late and too complicated to drive back. Ugh. Another drive-thru meltdown at the hands of someone who doesn't care about customer service.

I wanted it to taste good. But it didn't. How could it? Not only was it something I didn't want. It was something I would never order. But, I was hungry. So I ate it.

And as I was eating it, I thought about checking the order at the drive-thru. But who does that? Really. Do you? I don't. But I probably will now. Doing that, though, defeats the entire purpose of the drive-thru. Fast service. Not getting your stuff and opening the bag to check it while everyone is sitting in their car behind you.

Ugh. I should have stuck with the stand by. See what happens when you try and mix it up?

What else? I got nothin'.

What's Old is New Again

2006-10-30T16:10:00.000-05:00

My son loves fire trucks. No, wait. That's not right. Let me start over.

My son LOVES LOVES LOVES LOVES fire trucks.

While at my in-laws (where he stays during the day), he got a great treat -- playing with an old Tonka fire truck that used to be my brother in law's.

Well, seeing that reminded me of my old Tonka fire truck. I told my son to remind me about it the next time we went to my mom's.

We were there this weekend. I had completely forgotten about it -- until he came up to me and said, "Daddy old fire truck?"

A-ha! That's right. Daddy's old fire truck.

So, up to the attic we went. He climbed the steep dark stairs in a quest for another fire truck. And there it was. Just sitting there. Not covered. Just one really old (yet still really cool) red Tonka fire truck.

The cool feature of this truck is that its a bucket loader truck -- or, apparently in fire truck speak, a snorkel truck. So, he immediately started raising the bucket.

U
P

A
N
D

D
O
W
N

Non stop. I'm sure we'd still be up in the attic unless I carried him (holding the fire truck) down the stairs.

We got home and there was immediately a comparison between "old daddy fire truck" and his others.

(Mine, of course, is the coolest.)

It doesn't matter that this truck is more than 30 years old. It doesn't matter that the two side ladders are missing. It doesn't matter that part of the hose from the side is not working right.

What matters is that it's a fire truck. And to my son, it's perfect.

It was for me, too.

What else? I got nothin'.

Rain, Rain Go Away

2006-10-28T14:32:00.000-04:00

It's raining today. Pouring actually. Not to mention the 35 m.p.h. wind. These are not days you like when your basement can act up on you. Thankfully, the worst is behind us (I hope), and nothing bad has happened. Yet.

So, it's been a crazy week. I seem to be saying that a lot lately. Regardless, I owe you a few thoughts, so here they are -- in no particular order.

My birthday is coming. It's Wednesday. Forty is getting closer and closer. Ugh. Don't feel anywhere near it, though, so that's a good thing. Right?

The day before my birthday is Halloween. The boy wonder is 2 and a 1/2 this year. We are hoping this becomes his official trick-or-treating debut. He's even got the "trick or treat" part down for when people answer the door.

So what's the problem? Well, not sure if he'll be in a costume or not. We finally landed on Thomas the Tank Engine as the preferred costume. The problem is that once we actually got the costume, he's wanted nothing -- and I mean nothing -- to do with it. So, we'll see!

Chocolate chip pancakes for dinner tonight. Love breakfast for dinner. I'm just saying.

Why am I so excited that the Dancing with the Stars tour is coming nearby?

Are you watching Six Degrees? You should be.

Speaking of TV, I do love the Vegas. Well, Las Vegas. It's perfect mindless television. I also loved the old Vegas -- remember Dan Tanna? Yup, I do. I don't remember what I had for lunch yesterday, but I remember Dan Tanna.

November 7 is election day. And, no doubt about it. I do have an incredible decision to make. A decision that could affect me in so many ways going forward. That's what election day is about, right?

The decision I'm facing -- do I buy both 90210 and Melrose on DVD when they come out that day? Now that would make for an interesting debate.

What else? I got nothin'.

Celebrity Sightings

2006-10-21T23:11:00.000-04:00

Living near the world's two largest casinos always makes for some interesting people watching.

And, well, when one of them celebrates its 10th anniversary, the stars come out to play.

Among those scheduled to be at Mohegan Sun this weekend were Jerry Seinfeld, Kevin Costner, the entire original crew of Laugh-In, Neil Patrick Harris, Carmen Electra, Matthew Broderick and some others.

There was also a basketball game at the casino -- the Boston Celtics vs. New York Knicks. I worked at the game, sitting courtside, so figured if celebs were going to attend, I'd get the scoop.

And, for you, loyal readers, it is scoop that I have.

Joan Allen was there. Who is Joan Allen? Well, most notably, she played John Travolta's wife in Face/Off. She sat courtside. She's 50, or will be this year. And, I gotta tell you, she looked great. I wouldn't have said over 40. She was with someone younger -- not sure if it was her son or her man. She basically watched the entire game.

Matthew Lillard was there. Yeah, I didn't know his name either. Someone told me. But, i did recognize him. Most recently, he was Shaggy in the Scooby movies. But, you'd recognize him from the original Scream. He arrived late and left at halftime.

Sitting between Lillard and Allen was none other than Doogie -- Neil Patrick Harris. You all remember him as the genius young doctor. But, you should know him now for his role of Barney on How I Met Your Mother. He's brilliant. He had a few friends with him. Looked just like he does on TV. Seemed to enjoy the game -- as well as talking with Allen and Lillard. And, you know what, he eats a hot dog just like the rest of us.

Also sitting courtside was none other than Kevin Costner. He had a few people with him as well. Taller than you'd think. Getting grayer, that's for sure. He's apparently a basketball fan -- or camera happy -- or both. He got there earlier to meet the Celtics during their shootaround. Then he left for a bit and came back. He only stayed for the first half. Didn't seem thrilled with people asking for autographs.

So, as I'm walking out after the game, I figure, why not check out the high roller area and see if I recognize anyone.

It didn't take long to recognize the man himself -- Big Papi aka David Ortiz of the Boston Red Sox. He was dressed very casually. However, he had to have $50,000 on each wrist between his diamond Rolex and then some other bracelet like thing on his right hand. It was bling city. And, I guess the contract is OK for him, as well as endorsements. He was playing at a table with a minimum bet of $500 per hand. I watched him for probably 10 minutes and he seemed to be about even during that time period. It was cool to see him.

So, no Seinfeld sighting for me. He was there, though. I did see the copter he came in on. Same with Broderick. Didn't hear about my girl Carmen, so not sure if she made it or not.

What else?

I got nothin'.

The Domino's Dilemma

2006-10-19T09:23:00.000-04:00

Ok, first of all, let me say this.

Yes, we eat Domino's pizza. First of all, it is good. But, more importantly, it's pretty convenient. Heck, they even have online ordering. Haven't done that yet, but I'll be checking it out.

Now, to the issue at hand -- the tip.

A few months ago, Domino's started adding a $1.50 delivery charge on all orders.

(Now, OK, I can forgive them for dropping the 30 minutes or less or your pizza is free promotion, but this little move has only caused confusion.)

You can see the dilemma, right? What do you tip the driver? Do you tip the driver? I mean, who is getting the $1.50? Is the driver getting it or is the store getting it?

Being creatures of habit, we always order the same thing (medium sausage, medium mushroom and breadsticks with parmesan peppercorn sauce). The bill is $17.41.

What would you give the guy when he shows up?

You just can't give him $17.41...and assume he's getting the $1.50. Or can you?

You can't give him $18 and tell him thanks, because then if he's not getting the $1.50, you just tipped $.59. And that's not good.

You can't really give him a $20 bill and ask for a $1 back. That's just cheap. Isn't it?

So, you see my point, the only option is to give him the $20 bill. Now, the "tip" comes to $4.09.

Isn't that a little much for a pizza guy?

I mean, I'm all about the tip. I really am. I do what's right. And if I get better service, the tip goes up. But that's an entirely other blog.

Right now, I'm still trying to solve the Domino's dilemma.

What would you do?

What else? I got nothin'.

Walk, Don't Run

2006-10-17T09:34:00.000-04:00

Why do we do it? And, admit it, you do do it. We all do.

Recap with me. You need to cross the street. If you don't have the chance to jay-walk, you make your way to the cross walk. Stay within the lines. The lines are your friend.

Not too mention it's the law. We're supposed to walk there. And, more importantly, the cars are supposed to stop and let us.

So, why do we run.

You know you do it. I've seen you.

The cars eventually stop and you start across the street, often picking up into an outright jog. Why? Those white lines are our haven. Our safe zone. Yet, it's almost as if we feel like we're holding up the drivers so we decide to quicken our pace.

I've done it. You've done it. We've all done it.

The question is....why?

What else?

I got nothin'.

Monday's Random Thoughts

2006-10-16T12:22:00.000-04:00

Welcome to the big show. It's Monday. Not sure what that means for me.

But, what it means for you is a few random thoughts. I guess what it means for me, then, is that I can't put a few hundred words together about one topic. So, here we go:

Venison anyone? Yup, we could be serving that this week at the homestead. Nope, didn't hit a deer (have already done that). But, someone else might have. Otherwise, how could I explain the dead deer in the side of my yard. Discovered it Saturday morning while taking a break from gutter cleaning (ah, the joys). Could have been there a week for all we know. And hopefully it won't be there much longer. Public Works is supposed to take it away.

Happy Birthday, Gramma. My Gramma turned 100 this weekend. That's right. One hundred. Wow. There was a party for her yesterday. Among the cards and assorted well wishes she got was one from Pennsylvania Avenue. Yes, faithful readers, your tax dollars at work. Let the White House know you've got a special event coming and George W will take the time out of his hectic schedule to send your gramma a card.

I love to chew gum. But, here's the thing. I can't chew one piece. Has to be two. Every time. And, right now, it has to be Orbit Citrusmint. Or Bubblemint.

The weekend is also used to catch up on TiVo shows. Here's a brief synopsis. LOST is fantastic this year. Of the new stuff, totally digging Brothers and Sisters. And I thought my family put the fun in dysfunctional. Wow.

Oh, speaking of TV. Since it's Monday, that means tonight is The Class and How I Met Your Mother. It also means I am completely unavailable between 8 and 9 p.m. Heck, it's like when 90210 used to be on. Wait, was that out loud? Hate it when that happens.

Here's a left over from Friday. I'm playing with my son and start to say the alphabet. I get to C and then ask, "What's next?" I'm sitting there thinking, ok, I'll get D, maybe an E, F, too. What does he do? Nothing except go through the rest of it. Talk about wow moments. That was pretty cool.

Saw a girl I went to high school with Friday night. We started talking about the usual stuff. Who is where and married to who and how many kids. Then we started talking about our next reunion. Yup, 20th. Gulp. Where does it go? Or, where did it go?

What else?

I got nothin'.

My Montel Moment

2006-10-13T13:12:00.000-04:00

Yup, it's true. I'm going to be on the Montel Williams Show.

No, it's not true that I'm going to be on a show about paternity tests.

My appearance, believe it or not, is actually work related. Honest.

My show will air on Halloween. Set your TiVo now. I mean, come on, this is not to be missed.

They sent a car to get me. That was cool. They even offered me an overnight in the city, but I passed on it. I'm away at night enough, didn't want to do it if I didn't have to.

So the black Mercedes picked me up with a driver who didn't speak much English. So, we didn't talk. Which was fine. I wanted to do some work on the way down. I tried -- then started to get car sick. So, just put the iPod on and fell asleep until we arrived.

I didn't tip him. Not sure what the protocol is. But I didn't like him, so I didn't tip.

I get to the show and they put me in the green room -- which, by the way, isn't green. In my case, it was a very faint yellowish/creamish kind of a color. There are also a number of green rooms. Mine was number six. There were seven total.

Then the producer came in to go over things. Then the interns came in every 20 minutes to make sure I was ok. Did I need anything? Could they get me something? They were very pleasant and definitely made me feel like a guest.

Then it was time for lunch, which was not good, but I was starving, so that was fine.

Hair was next. I mean, come on, what could they possibly do with me? Not much, apparently. I was in there for 30 seconds. Some very feminine guy ran his fingers through my hair while spraying me with stuff and his co-worker (a female) kept saying, "Yes, that's it. Yes, that's perfect. Oh, this is good."

I could not make that up. But, I mean, have you seen my hair?

Back in the green room for 15 minutes before being called to make-up.

I sat in the chair while this woman took the shine off my forehead. The best way I could describe her? All I could think of was a rock groupie. No, not a modern day groupie. But someone from like the late 1970s, but still in her groupie clothes and still wearing her groupie hair.

At last, time to go down to the studio. There were seven or eight of us guests. We were behind the stage at first where microphones were put on us. Then we were on the side of the stage, waiting for our cue to go out to our seats. While standing there, we heard Montel interacting with the crowd, giving them instructions on how he'll call on them for questions during the show.

This was a big issue because psychic Sylvia Browne was the featured guest and everyone there wanted to ask her a question.

After 10 minutes, we were led out to our seats and mine was front row -- six feet from Montel and Sylvia. The set was decorated with mums, pumpkins and corn stalks -- all fake. Like most shows, the studio is very small -- actually cramped is a better word. It always looks bigger on TV.

We were the second of three shows taping that day.

Montel was going to introduce each segment by showing a videotaped piece -- then he comes out of that and talks to the guest in that piece. I didn't know when mine was going to come up, but it ended up being last. I was more nervous than I thought I would be. I was fine in the taped piece, but he then asked me something, I answered. Sylvia asked me something, I answered. Then, I asked her a question and then he was moving on to someone else.

It was very fast -- probably four minutes total. But, you'll see me a lot on the show because of my location.

I was happy with the result -- at least I think I am. The real test will be when it airs. I was surprised at the nerves I had. I've been on everything from Good Morning America to CNN to local TV, yet I had more butterflies here. Not sure why. Maybe the live audience had something to do with it.

After the show, I was ready for my car ride home. I got in the car they had for me and asked the guy how he drew the short straw to drive to Connecticut. He was like, I'm going to Penn Station. I said, well, I'm not.

They goofed on my travel plans. Had me going back on a train. A train that wasn't going to get in until almost 11. So that wasn't going to work. Twenty minutes later a new car was there to get me.

I liked this driver. I slept for about 45 minutes -- and then we chatted quite a bit. I tipped him whe we got back.

That's about it. Tune in on Halloween and let me know what you think.

Emptying the Vault

2006-10-11T16:13:00.000-04:00

Loyal and faithful readers, fear not. I am back. It's been one of those weeks. Have had too much stuff going on to come and give you the service you deserve.

And here I thought you didn't care -- or didn't notice. But, alas, you did. Two of you (my entire readership?) actually told me they checked in and were disappointed not to find any new thoughts.

Well, wait no longer.

Here are a few thoughts/comments of the random variety:

I failed parenthood again. My son's nursery school wants his name on everything. Fine, I can do that. I made a nifty little name tag for his backpack. But, when it came time to writing his name in his jacket, well, I guess I didn't think that the sharpie I was using would bleed through. Yeah, it did. He looked damn cute in that jacket, too. The bright spot? A hand-me-down, so we didn't pay for it.

My best friend just had his fourth girl last night (well, actually, his wife did, but you get the point). Four kids. All girls. God bless 'em. I told him not too worry, wedding receptions in American Legion halls can be lots of fun.

No, I haven't watched LOST yet. The beauty of TiVo. My top shows right now: Amazing Race, Dancing with the Stars, How I Met Your Mother, The Class, Brothers & Sisters (I know!) and Six Degrees.

OK, so how important is it that a 2-year-old be dressed up for Halloween? We're not making any progress at all on the costume front. Not good.

I'm going to be on the Montel Williams Show. Yup. It's true. Not for a paternity test or anything though. Something work related. Show tapes tomorrow. Probably airs 10/18 or 10/25.

My grandmother turns 100 this weekend. Wow. She got a letter from the President congratulating her. That might be the best thing Bush has done in eight years.

My birthday (hint, hint) is only a couple of weeks away. Hint, it's the day after Halloween. The numbers keep getting higher.

I think that's it for now. I'll be better about regular posts. Really, I will.

The Barney Influence

2006-10-04T12:37:00.000-04:00

OK, I have to give credit where credit is due.

Barney is a good thing.

Not the Barney on How I Met My Mother (although Neil Patrick Harris is brilliant). No, I'm talking about the big furry purple dinosaur (or whatever he is) Barney.

Barney gets props from me today because my two-year-old son had his first day at nursery school yesterday. And, when I got home, my wife told me that the teacher reported, "he did an excellent job during clean up."

Of course, one side of me is jumping for joy. He did great at clean up! Woo-hoo! My son did great at clean up. I actually shared the news with some co-workers today.

And, give props to Barney. When he first sang the "Clean Up Song," my son was hooked. We don't watch a lot of Barney now, but I've got to thank the big purple guy for his influence on my son's ability -- and willingness -- to help pick up his toys.

Of course, then there's the other side of me that looks at the glass half empty. Did he not do other things right? Is she just trying to come up with positive stuff so she says, "He did well at clean up."

Makes you wonder, eh? Well, OK, maybe not you, but it does me.

But, then 10 seconds later it's out of my head.

Afterall, my son is almost two-and-a-half. He is a good clean up guy. But, he's also a good mess-making guy.

He might suck at clean up tomorrow and be really good at something else.

But, that's tomorrow. We're not there yet. All I know at this moment is that my son is the best cleaner upper in his class. And I'm fine with that. Heck, I'm loving that.