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'.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
One of Those Days
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Too or Two? Doesn't Matter.
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'.
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'.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Welcome, Anna
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'.
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'.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Daddy Duty -- Part Two
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'.
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
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'.
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'.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Catching Up
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.
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.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Pool? Who Needs a Pool?
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'.
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'.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Pet Peeves
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'.
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'.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Weird? For You to Decide
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'.
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'.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Ask Questions, Get Answers
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'.
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'.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Two Things I Don't Get
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'.
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'.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Pay It Forward
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'.
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'.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Emptying a Cluttered Mind
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'.
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'.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Anything But a Super Sunday
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.
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.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Concert Critique
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.
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'.Thursday, January 18, 2007
What's In a Name?
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'.
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'.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
From the Mouths of Babes...
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'.
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'.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Final Thoughts on 2006
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'.
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'.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
The Magic of Christmas
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'.
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'.
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