Monday, December 7, 2009
But then they broke up.
There's a correlation between hotness and crazy. It might be a direct correlation. But, anyway, that's a topic for another post.
So they broke up but she is still kind of stalking him. Today, I got a friend request from her on Facebook.
We don't travel in the same circles. I don't have anything in common with her accept she was dating my buddy. Was. Dating.
Not dating now.
So I'm left with a quandary. I haven't ignored very many friend requests. I've accepted friend requests from people I don't know but we know somebody in common. I'm pretty democratic with my friends on Facebook. I also haven't unfriended anybody although I've tried my darndest to get people to unfriend me.
I'm tempted to ignore the friend request.
Some people get all upset and perturbed when it rains. Not me. I love the rain.
Actually I don't love it so much when I'm standing on a dark rain slicked street because someone "fell asleep" and took out a light pole.
But the rest of the time I love the rain. It's pretty amazing stuff if you think about it.
Water evaporates and condenses. And then falls back to earth. It's like free water.
Sure, most of the time we buy our water in plastic bottles at the supermarket. Or we ship it down from northern California in big canals. But when it rains, that stuff just falls out of the sky.
I even turned off my sprinklers.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Every year or so the studio puts together a big show. All the different classes perform over two nights. The youngest children usually get big cheers for their cuteness while the older kids get big cheers for their phenomenal dancing ability.
I love watching the show.
And not just because my kids are in it.
You see, I'm a frustrated dancer. I'm envious of the coordination, athleticism, grace and freedom of the dancers.
In my mind, I can do all these awesome moves. I moonwalk like Michael Jackson. I leap like Nureyev. I have the grace of Fred Astaire. Sometimes I break into a spontaneous dance when I'm in the middle of doing something... like cooking dinner or mowing the lawn.
But that's only in my mind.
The reality is that I sometimes bob my head to the beat while listening to the stereo in the car. I probably look like I'm having a seizure.
Anyway, I'm glad the show weekend is over. Aidan stole his routine and Abigail was the cutest jelly fish on stage. I just tapped my foot to the beat and clapped loudly.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Some dinosaurs were as big as city buses. Some stood as tall as three story houses. Gargantuan winged reptiles soared through the skies emitting piercing shrieks.
Have you ever wondered why there aren't any animals that big anymore?
The largest land animal is an elephant. They're pretty big but they're tiny compared to a brontosaurus. The largest flying creature is the albatross with its eight to twelve foot wingspan. They're miracles of efficient soaring.
If you look in the ocean, you can find creatures rivalling the dinosaur for size. Blue whales, the largest animal, can reach nearly one hundred feet long. Other whales are smaller but still massive. But whales have an advantage - buoyancy.
What was it about the age of dinosaurs that allowed creatures to grow to heroic sizes and survive. Why did they not run out of food necessary to support they're colossal frames? Why are there not similar animals roaming the earth today?
I've got a theory that goes something like this - There was only so much room in the ark.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
But there I was, with all the other incoming freshman.
One of the areas covered was time management. We needed to learn how to spend our time wisely so we wouldn't flunk out of school and be forced to join the military. I scoffed.
What did I need time management for? I was taking twelve units. My first class started at noon. I didn't have a job, a girlfriend, or a social life. I stayed up past midnight just so I wouldn't wake up too early.
In the Navy, there were only two rules for time management:
1. Show up on time.
2. Do what you're told.
That first semester in college I earned straight "A's". It was the first time I'd ever managed a four point oh.
The next semester I had a few more friends and a job. I earned two "A's" and two "B's". Uh-oh. Now I had a three point five.
I won't bore you with the details but the downward trend continued. Just between you and me, I'm lucky to have a college degree.
As a nearly forty-year-old adult with two small children, a time-consuming job, and a lovely wife, I need to manage my time wisely. I muddle through. I even keep a calendar now. But there are so many things that I should get done that don't.
There's activities and sports my children should be participating in. There are weekends I should be spending alone with Tabitha. There are projects around the house that need to be finished, not to mention the ones that need to be started.
I should have paid attention to the time management seminar.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Abigail is downstairs watching the movie "Over the Hedge." She will come upstairs in about twenty minutes and tell me she is ready for bed. If she is really tired she'll say, "No story tonight" and she'll crawl into bed and fall instantly asleep. She usually wakes up with the sunrise.
Aidan is vacuuming downstairs. He's been vacuuming for the last hour. Pretty soon, I'll go downstairs and tell him it's time for his shower (he likes to shower now). He won't be happy. He'll want to watch his shows on TV. I'll insist he takes his shower and then I'll let him watch "Wow, Wow, Wubzy." He'll sit on the couch transfixed by the television. At about ten, I'll go downstairs, turn off the TV, and put him in his bed. He won't be happy about this either. He'll cry and complain and insist I read "two" stories for him. I'll agree to one. He'll insist he's not tired. He is. Eventually he will lie down and ask me to put his blankets on him.
And then the house will be quiet.
There was a time when I went to bed relatively early. My days of choosing to stay up late and getting up early are long in the past. Now, I have no choice.
I've been working the graveyard shift at the salt mine for over a year now. It has started to screw up my sleep cycle. I can't get to bed much before midnight. I'll lay in bed reading until about one o'clock. And then I'll shut off the light and try to get to sleep.
Sometimes I go to sleep quickly. Some nights I don't. When the alarm goes off at six o'clock, I'm not really ready to get out of bed. But I do.
For some reason, I have an overwhelming desire to take a nap at about noon.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
I can hear the gasps from here. Yep, my mom let her three-year-old son play outside without an adult watching his every move. Crazy!
And yet, somehow, I survived to be a semi-productive member of adult society. She had one rule for me when I went outside:
"Tell me where you are going."
Most of the spankings I received (perhaps a topic for another post) were because I failed to remember this one little rule. I would get so caught up in whatever I was doing that I would forget to go back and tell her what new location I had decamped to.
Amazingly I was never kidnapped.
These days, you are a bad parent if you let your children out of your sight for one moment. Bad things could happen. Your child could be kidnapped, molested, jumped into a gang, crash on his bicycle, given drugs, given candy, given non-organic food, given non-locally grown non-organic food.
I think we, as parents, need to lighten up a little. Kids need some unsupervised time to themselves to figure out how things work. They need to learn how to negotiate with their friends without adult intervention. They need to learn that it's "okay" to fall down and skin their knees. They need to start to learn how to be independent.
Because seriously, I don't want to be taking care of my kids when they are in their forties.
They should be taking care of me.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
My only previous experience with a motorcycle ended with me crashing into a trailer and opening a deep gash on my leg. That incident cost me a week in the hospital and about three months in a splint. I missed the last few weeks of my fourth grade year.
I wasn't going to let that stand in my way.
What did stand in my way was a lack of funds and an inability to save more than two dollars at any given time. My motorcycle dream was on hold.
While I was in the Navy I had subscriptions to a couple of motorcycle magazines. Every month I would devour the descriptions of the newest machines the motorcycle manufacturers offered. Each new model offered incremental improvements that rendered the previous model hopelessly obsolete. I could think of dozens of motorcycles I would like to own.
However, being somewhat intelligent I didn't want to buy the most powerful model for my first bike. I wasn't going to be one of those knuckleheads riding a GSXR 1000 while wearing flip-flops and no helmet. I was going to do it right.
One day I was reading the magazine when I saw the Suzuki Bandit 400. This motorcycle touched something very deep within my soul. It was red. Its tiny four-cylinder motor wasn't hidden by plastic. It revved to 14000 rpm.
It looked awesome.
I'd saved a little money during the Gulf War. I returned to a father happy to have me home and willing to help me buy a motorcycle. We went to our local motorcycle dealer and exercised Pop's credit card. The next day I rode home on my new motorcycle.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Friday, July 31, 2009
If you've travelled around the country at all you've probably seen the brown and yellow sign of Cracker Barrel. If you were smart, you stopped for a meal. For those who have never been, Cracker Barrel serves traditional American food in a country style setting.
Cracker Barrel restaurants have a wide front porch with rocking chairs waiting for a weary traveller to sit upon and perhaps purchase for a modest sum. The waiting area is a mock general store with traditional candies, clothing and country kitsch. The interior of the restaurant is festooned with Americana.
What the Hard Rock Cafe is to rock and roll, Cracker Barrel is to rural America.
The whole thing is hopelessly cheesy and contrived.
I love it.
The menu at Cracker Barrel includes such favorites as pot roast, meatloaf, pork chops, and chicken pot pie. It's good ole fashioned stick to your ribs food. There are no wood fired pizzas or calamari appetizers on the Cracker Barrel menu.
I've only been to a Cracker Barrel twice. The first time was in St. George, Utah. I wanted a change from the ubiquitous Wendy's or McDonald's. I ordered pot roast with veggies.
It was good.
The most recent visit was on our drive to Montana this week. We stopped at the Cracker Barrel in Layton, Utah for lunch. I ordered buttermilk pancakes and sausage. For lunch.
It was so good. The pancakes were crisp around the edges and steaming hot. I could feel my arteries clogging with each bite. That's how you make pancakes.
Too bad I won't be able to go back for a while.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
But that was several months ago. Now it's time for a summer trip.
My parents and sister came down for my brother-in-law's sister's wedding a couple of weeks ago. I've been looking for a way to get my kids out of the house and up to Montana to spend some time with their cousins. I seized the opportunity to send Abigail up with Grandma and Grandpa when they went back home.
And then Tabitha and her mother, Terry, decided they would like to go visit Montana too.
We hammered out a plan where I would drive Tabitha, Terry, and Aidan to Montana while Abigail rode up with Grandma and Grandpa. I would fly home after a couple of days and then Terry would drive Tabitha and the kids home.
I got a cheap flight from Missoula to LAX. I asked for and received a few days off from work. We left last Monday morning and met my parents in the lovely town of Barstow. We caravanned through the blistering Mojave Desert through Las Vegas, Mesquite, and St. George.
We climbed out of the desert into the forested hills of southern Utah. We stopped for the night in the truly lovely town of Cedar City. Coincidentally, my youngest sister, Sara, and her husband thought my impending arrival in Montana would be a great time for them to go visit family in California. However, we made arrangements to stay at the same hotel in Cedar City.
My other sister, Judy, and her family were also returning to Montana and decided to stay in Cedar City the same night so we were able to have something of a family reunion. The kids ran around like maniacs but stopped long enough to pose for a picture with Grandma and Grandpa.
The next morning we continued our journey northward. The best thing about the drive to Montana is that it gets prettier and less crowded the further north you go. We cruised through Salt Lake City around lunch time and made a late afternoon Starbucks stop in Pocatello, Idaho. We continued until we reached the bustling metropolis of Dillon, Montana.
Dillon is a quiet little college/cow town on Interstate 15. And it's only about 4 hours away from my parents house in Pablo, Montana.
We woke early the next morning and hit the road. We reached Missoula and stopped again at a Starbucks. Finally, we rolled into my parent's gravel driveway around one o'clock.
The kids have been playing non-stop. We've driven Terry around to show her the sights of the Flathead Valley. Tabitha has started looking at real estate again.
Do I really have to go home on Saturday?
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
So early that morning I climbed into the waiting van.
The recruiter drove me and a couple other guys to the MEPS station in Los Angeles. I completed more paperwork, peed in a cup to prove I hadn't taken any drugs in the last thirty days and then waited. I finally boarded a bus later that day with about 50 other guys.
There was a mix of bravado and quiet reflection on the bus ride to San Diego (the loudest talkers were the first to drop out). We arrived outside the San Diego Recruit Training Center at about 11:30 that night. A guy in a white uniform climbed on the bus and yelled at us to grab our things and line up outside.
I had seen the movies. I was expecting pit bulls in perfectly pressed uniforms to march on the bus with profanity and spittle flying, immediately identifying my deepest insecurities and causing me to void my bladder, before marching me in shame in front of all the other deeply shaken recruits. This guy was not exactly friendly but he didn't seem like he was going to eat me alive either. He marched us to a room and then yelled at us to line up on squares painted on the floor.
Another uniform clad guy starting calling roll. After questioning the parentage and intelligence of all of us, the guy had confirmed our identities and marched us to another room. More uniform clad people threw toiletries and towels at us. Finally, at about 2:00 AM we were led to a barracks to go to sleep.
About two hours later, a blinding light and a banging metal trash can woke me from my dreams of home. Men in uniform marched through the barracks yelling at us to get up, brush our teeth and "fall out." I stumbled to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror.
I really did want to go to college.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Tabitha and I wanted to go somewhere tropical this year. We went to Hawaii a few years ago with Abigail and loved it. Aidan is now old enough to enjoy playing in the sand and water. We thought about returning to Hawaii but then looked at other options.
We thought about staying in Key West (key lime pie!) or taking a Caribbean cruise. Both were a little pricey. Tabitha did a little research and found a resort in Grand Cayman called the Reef. It looked nice, quiet, family friendly, and reasonably priced. We made our reservations and spent our Federal Tax-payer Savings Plan dividend (tax return).
We woke up early yesterday morning and drove to LAX. We flew to Miami and then on to Georgetown, Grand Cayman.
Aidan naps on the plane.We landed at the airport at about 9:30 last night. We had bus transportation to the Reef Resort on the north east side of the island. After an hour long bus ride over nearly every paved road on the island, we arrived at the hotel. I was starving but everything was closed for the night.
We got our room and unpacked. Abigail went right to sleep but Aidan decided he wanted to do a little exploring.
He thinks it's funny if he locks the door to the bathroom. He went inside the bathroom, locked both doors, and went into the bedroom and locked the door. I finally got him to open the bedroom door but the bathroom was locked with no one inside.
A little background:
1. I went to bed at about 12:30 in the morning.
2. I woke up at 5:00.
3. We'd been flying all day.
4. We had a long bus ride.
5. I'm hungry and there's nothing to eat.
6. The bathroom doors are locked.
7. Aidan is screaming, "I want to brush my teeth."
I was a little upset. I yelled at Aidan who promptly began to have an "I've been awake too long and I'm going to make you pay for it" meltdown. The more he screamed, the angrier I got. Finally, the hotel security guy unlocked the bathroom door, saving Aidan from certain death. Aidan was able to brush his teeth and then went right to sleep.
The view from our patio.
We woke up this morning to a beautiful day.
In retrospect, I should have thanked him for his time and excused myself with the words, "It looks like the Navy has nothing to offer me at this time."
If I had done that, he probably would have replied, "Wait a minute son, let me check the computer again." He would have found the opening for the journalism school I wanted.
I didn't realize it at the time, but I held all the cards.
... I signed up for the Seaman Apprentice school for the shortest enlistment they offered at the time - three years active duty.
In that moment, I had decided the Navy would not be my career. I would do my time, get out, and go to college.
I phoned my dad and told him I had enlisted. He left his office in Monterey Park and drove to the MEPS station in Los Angeles. He watched as I raised my right hand and swore to defend the Constitution from all enemies, foreign or domestic.
I had mixed emotions as I spent the last few weeks at home. I attended going away parties with friends and a guy at my church tried to talk me into changing to the Air Force (no thanks). My sort-of girlfriend, Barbara, cried a little. My mom cried more. My recruiter gave me a list of items to bring with me (running shoes, stamps, my driver's license, and a little money) and prohibited items (tobacco, drugs, and alcohol). I packed my bag and went to sleep.
Very early the next morning, my recruiter was waiting outside in a van.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
- See the world
- Save money for college
- Get lunch
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
After a while, she told me she found something. I was doing something else so I didn't have time to look. A few minutes later, I asked her what she wanted to show me. She said, "Nevermind."
The next day I saw a charge for Expedia on our checking account. I put two and two together and asked if she made a reservation.
She did. But she's not telling. (She actually offered to tell me but I declined)
I've got a birthday coming up and our 13th anniversary is only two days after that. The best birthday / anniversary present I can think of is a couple of days alone with Tabitha. That and a Porsche 911 GT3 but I'll take the time alone with Tabitha.
I can't wait.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Anyway, instead of a cheap plastic toy in the Happy Meal, there was a Kidz Bop sampler CD. Parents are probably all to familiar with Kidz Bop, particularly if you watch television with your kids. The Kidz Bop commercials feature overly enthusiastic pre-pubescent hipsters singing the latest top-40 hits. I usually try to change the channel.
I have so far avoided any exposure to Kidz Bop.
Today, Aidan wanted to listen to the CD. It was, in a word, painful. I can imagine the recording session going something like this:
Kidz finish singing last line of latest Jon Mayer hit.
Producer: That was great kidz. Now do it again, but make it louder.
They're not exactly singing. I think they're belting. My only hope is that Aidan will succeed in scratching the CD so I won't have to listen to it again.
Monday, May 4, 2009
They've reduced staffing, delayed acquisition and maintenance of equipment, and reorganized departments. Lately we've received a flurry of e-mails requesting employees change the way we go about doing business.
They want us to stop dialing directory assistance from company telephones.
They want us to use the Internet to look for telephone numbers. Apparently, we have been spending unknown tens of dollars calling directory assistance. Calls to directory assistance are going to break the back of my company. The situation is so dire, they have rewritten policy to prohibit the use of directory assistance.
Not a problem. As long as they don't restrict my internet access.
Monday, April 20, 2009
So anyway, Aidan and I are on our way back home today. We're cruising along in my car when Aidan tells me, "Daddy, my tummy hurts."
This can't be good.
Maybe the donut he had for breakfast didn't agree with him (not likely). Maybe he is just hungry.
A moment later I hear the tell-tale burp. It's immediately followed by the sound of a liquid splashing in the back seat of my car. Between spasms, Aidan cries.
I press a little harder on the accelerator as the smell of partly digested milk wafts through the car. The speed limit is now only a suggestion as I race home. The immediate crisis past, Aidan falls asleep covered in little chunks of curdled milk. We arrive home. I peel Aidan out of his soiled clothing and put him in the bath. While he bathes, I clean.
The back seat of my car hasn't been this clean for a long time. Aidan is worn out so he has been sitting on my lap while we watch TV.
I love my son. I hope someday, he remembers this and cleans up after me.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
I brought along my computer with the hope of updating the blog every night like I have on past trips. I figured I would start with the obligatory photo of the kids frolicking at a rest stop along the interstate. I would then post a few photos of the family enjoying our time in exotic Las Vegas. Tabitha had other ideas:
"Why did you bring your computer?"
"To update my blog."
"Why don't you spend a little time with the family instead."
We arrived at the Venetian in Las Vegas on Friday afternoon and checked into our room. While Tabitha and Aidan napped, I showed Abigail the canals of Venice (in Las Vegas). We had dinner at one of the restaurants in the hotel where Aidan pulled his usual routine of screaming his head off, refusing to eat, and then complaining he was hungry. The waiters and other diners were amazingly accommodating.
We hoped to show the kids the lights of the Strip at night but we were all too tired to go out after our post-dinner gelato. We were the earliest people to bed in the entire city on Friday night. We checked out on Saturday morning and drove over to the Bellagio. We parked the Jeep and checked out the tulips and butterflies in the Bellagio's lobby. We walked to the M&M Store and chose our own colors (pastels for Abigail, blues for Aidan, and dark chocolate for me).
We travelled east from Las Vegas, crossed the Hoover Dam, stopped for lunch in the bustling metropolis of Kingman (actually much bigger than I remembered), and headed east on I-40. The plume of smoke on the horizon turned out to be a fully-engulfed semi, stopping westbound traffic for miles. We soon arrived in Flagstaff and headed south on Arizona 89 to Sedona.
So far the trip was unfolding as planned. We checked into our hotel in Sedona, went for a chilly nighttime swim, and ate a delicious dinner at the hotel. Aidan again pulled his usual stunt (Hint to waiters - get the food out fast. Hint to Tim - don't take your son to nice restaurants). We went to bed early again.
Aidan loves shallow water.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
The Smart is strictly a two-seater. The front seats remind me of Tab's old VW bug. You're going to rub shoulders with your passenger but there is plenty of head and leg room. You sit kind of high in the car and there is no height adjustment (that I could find). It feels a little weird.
There's an engine down there.
The rear luggage compartment is large enough for two people to go on a week long road trip if they don't bring bicycles and surfboards. Forget about packing a stroller.
The interior looks good and is put together nicely. It's very distinctive and stylish.
The best part is how little space this car takes up. You can touch the back window while sitting in the driver's seat. This would be a perfect commuter car for someone who has a relatively short drive.
Would I buy one? Probably not. I've got two little kids to ferry around and a 65 mile (one-way) commute. I see this car as being a great choice for empty nesters and people without children. If they could squeeze in two more seats and make it only slightly larger, then I might think about it.
Is it safe? It's probably as safe as can be for a car so small. It's got airbags tucked in everywhere and a high strength steel safety cage. Top Gear in England crashed one into a concrete barrier at 70 miles an hour and it held up very well. Just remember there is always a larger vehicle waiting to crash into you. It's better to avoid the accident in the first place.
Monday, March 30, 2009
I've found three types of oatmeal:
- Rolled oats.
- Steel cut "Irish" oats.
- Stone-ground "Scottish" oats.
You're probably familiar with rolled oats. Quaker rolled oats in some form or other are found in pantries around the country. Most Americans have started their day at least once under the beneficent gaze of the smiling Quaker. Rolled oats are made by steaming the whole oat kernel, rolling them flat, and then toasting them lightly.
Rolled oats are perfectly good. They are easy to prepare and have a delightfully creamy texture. They also make really good cookies.
Irish Oatmeal is not as common here. I've seen them sold under the name of "McCann's," "Coaches Oats," and Quaker. Steel cut oats are made by cutting the oat kernel. They take quite a bit longer to prepare because there is less starch exposed. The last pot of steel cut oats I made simmered on the stove for about 40 minutes before we could eat them. Steel cut oats have a nuttier texture and aren't nearly as creamy as rolled oats.
If you don't mind standing over the stove for a good part of the morning, I recommend you try steel cut oatmeal.
My favorite is Scottish oatmeal. It is made by doing a very rough grind of the oat kernels. I've bought Scottish oatmeal from Bob's Red Mill and in bulk at my neighborhood Winco. Scottish oatmeal combines the best qualities of rolled oats and steel cut oats. They cook much faster than steel cut oats while retaining some of the nutty texture and they are creamy like rolled oats.
Here is how I make my Scottish oatmeal.
3/4 cup milk
3/4 cup water
1/2 cup oats
a little salt
I combine the ingredients in a small saucepan and then simmer over low heat until it thickens. I like to flavor my oatmeal with Billington's Dark Brown Molasses Sugar and a little half and half.
Fry up some bacon and you have the perfect meal.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
I've been trained in CPR for about 20 years. I've seen it performed many times but I've never had an opportunity to put my training into use until last night.
Here's the situation:
Wife finds 60-year-old husband collapsed and unresponsive next to the bed. She calls 9-1-1. The dispatchers coach her as she starts CPR.
We arrive minutes later.
My first thought as I walked in the room was, "He's dead." He's not breathing and has no pulse. He's lying on his back next to the bed. His face is blue and his eyes are open and unresponsive. We move him to the middle of the room.
My partner starts chest compressions. My other partner opens his airway. I fumble with my air-mask (I should have practiced putting it together). I finally put it together and start rescue breathing.
We continue for several minutes until the experts arrive. They transport the patient to the hospital after working on him for about ten minutes. The paramedics tell us he has a chance.
He's pronounced dead shortly after arriving at the ER.
My partner says, "I'd like to see someone recover just once."
CPR is useful only to keep blood flowing through a victim's body until they get to the hospital. It's not like the movies where the victim coughs, draws in a deep breath, opens his eyes and lives happily ever after. If you need CPR, you are probably already dead.
But here's the deal - unless the victim shows obvious signs of death (rigor mortis, lividity, decomposition, decapitation) - you start CPR.
We owe it to the family to do everything we can to save their loved one.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
One of my classmates was writing articles for our local give-away newspaper. The paper needed someone to cover high-school football games. My friend recommended me for the job.
There was a hitch. I didn't really know anything about football.
I knew that one side tried to move the ball by either running it or throwing it. The other side tried to stop them. A touchdown was worth 6 points and a field goal was 3 points. The finer points of the game were lost on me. I didn't know what the positions were other than the quarterback. I couldn't tell a linebacker from defensive back. I wasn't off to a good start.
I told my dad I was going to be writing about a football game. He replied, "You don't know anything about football." This time, he was right.
I looked up "football" in my handy encyclopedia. I might as well have been reading Latin.
My first game as a sportswriter was away for a non-league showdown. I rode to the game on the bus with the players. Our coach was an old-school son of New Mexico coal miners. The players wore their helmets in the bus.
Anyway, during the game I tried to take as many notes as possible. I just wrote down player numbers in the hope I would be able to match them to a name later. After the game (a loss for our team) I went home and wrote up the game. When I called the editor at the paper and read the article to him, he was underwhelmed.
Not surprisingly, he found someone else to cover the next game.
I still don't know much about football.
Monday, March 9, 2009
No thanks. I got this one.
My car has two little buttons next to the clock. One says "H" and the other "M". I figured out what they mean a while back.
The Jeep is a different story. It goes something like this:
- Turn off the radio.
- Press and hold the "Time" button until the hour starts flashing.
- Using the tuner dial, select the correct number by turning the dial left or right.
- Press the "Time" button again. The minutes are still wrong because the clock is slow.
- Repeat step 2.
- Push the forward and backward buttons to try to change to the minutes.
- Repeat steps 1 and 2.
- Rotate the volume knob.
- Give up. For now. Turn the radio back on.
- Realize the clock is now 7 minutes slow.
- Repeat steps 1 and 2.
- Try to remember how Tabitha did it in October.
- Push down on the tuner dial and release to change to the minutes.
- Once the minutes are flashing select the correct number by turning the dial left or right
- Press the tuner button again.
- Turn on the radio.
- Vow to remember for next time.
Easy right? Maybe the next time I will read the manual.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
I take them out every night (or day) when I sleep and I replace them after about three weeks. When they get near the 20 day mark, they become uncomfortable.
On Monday morning, I opened two new lenses. When I put the lens in my left eye, it seemed a little strange. My vision was slightly blurred in that eye. I took the lens out, rinsed it off, and stuck it back in. No change.
I thought that something might be wrong with my eye so I put the lens in my right eye this morning. Now I had blurred vision in my right eye. Something was definitely wrong with the lens.
I've replaced that one lens and all is back to normal now.
Sometimes when I'm driving on the freeway, I just want to keep going. I was driving east on the 10 freeway this morning. If I kept going I could eventually get to Florida.
I've never been to Florida.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
On Tuesday I called for an appointment.
Instead of giving me an appointment, they connected me with a nurse. She asked me a bunch of questions. I described what was going on.
She recommended I go to the Emergency Room.
I went to the ER expecting to be there a while. They did an ultrasound. It turns out the soreness is due to inflammation caused by an infection. The doctor prescribed Motrin for the pain and swelling and Cipro for the infection.
Cipro is some strong stuff. It's kicking my butt. I feel like s**t. It's the cost of killing all the bacteria in my body.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
I loved The Damned's version of "Alone Again Or" without ever having heard the original. I still haven't heard the original.
I like the Breeders version of "Happiness is a Warm Gun". The original was done by some group from Liverpool.
Now I'm old enough to hear bands performing covers of songs I listened to when I was younger. The group "The Killers" has a version of Joy Division's "Shadowplay" that is getting some rotation on the radio.
I'm distinctly underwhelmed.
The Killers might be pretty-boy post-MTV darlings but their version of one of the great songs of all time sucks.
There's no danger. No drama. No edge.
Okay, maybe sucks is too strong a word.
Here's a version of the original: