Ride My Mind

Tradition at the Mission

2011-12-22T22:57:00.000-08:00

     Last night, we made our annual pilgrimage to The Mission Inn to enjoy the Festival of Lights.

     Now let me begin by telling you that our family outings fall in likeness somewhere between The Grizwalds and Parenthood (that movie with Steve Martin, you know the one).  There is a 100% chance of something crazy happening, but like a roller coaster, you just have to learn to enjoy the ride.

    As fate would have it, this particular outing began just as one would expect. "Short Stack" freaked out because I opened the car door for her instead of "The Boss." I'm often short on patience when it comes to such trivial matters, but "the Boss" quickly reeled us back in. She's the queen of diplomacy amongst everything else in our house.

     With our first crisis averted, we unknowingly moved on to the next. "Tall Stack" had been so excited about ice skating at the outside ice rink that The Mission has set up just across the street. She talked about it all day and couldn't wait to hit the ice. Turns out, the session was sold out and no one else would be permitted to skate for another two hours. As ten year old girls do, "Tall Stack" proceeds to let her disappointment avalanche to a state of devastation. Once again, the quick thinking "Boss" persuades her to go to the little shop which claims to have the best cup of hot chocolate in the world. Hey, they're right. Holy Crap that's a tasty cup of hot chocolate.

     With everyone finally as Holly Jolly as Burl Ives after a cup or two of the adult variety egg nog, we hopped on a horse driven wagon for a ride around the Inn with some good friends of ours who we hadn't seen for quite a spell. All in all, it was a perfect evening.

     These are the moments which remind me of just how thankful I am.  They remind me that now is the best time of my life. They remind me of what "The Boss" has been telling me all along. "Just enjoy the ride."

     Are you enjoying the ride?

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

King Of This Blog

2011-12-16T23:23:00.000-08:00

          So I started that Dave Ramsey Project some time ago. I wrote about it until I was tired of writing about it, which didn't take long. Not that I don't believe in what Dave Ramsey has to say, it's just that that isn't what my blog is all about. I lost interest in my own writing which only meant that my few readers must have jumped ship as well. Am I right or am I right?

     Then it occurred to me that this is MY blog. I am the king here. The only rules are my rules. And if I want to switch it up and go back to writing about nothing like I always have, then dammit that's what I'm gonna do. I'm going to write about nothing, you guys are going to like it, and life as we all once knew it can continue as it did pre-DRP.

     That was liberating. As you were.

     PS: My return was inspired by a post I read over at Back to the Kid's Table. Mary's got a way with words to say the least. She made me want to write again.

     I'll be back when I have nothing to talk about. Happy Holidays!

Dave Ramsey Project. Volume 4: We've Made It A Game

2011-06-08T15:01:00.000-07:00

     In this, the second week of our trip to financial freedom, I have taken a closer look at our spending habits and I'll share them with you here because I don't think what we do is too much different than what you do with your money. This is going to blow you away.

     We tend to buy things in our every day lives without thinking of the cost. A Starbucks here, a pack of cigarettes there for example. These are the things I have been focusing on for the past few days. I buy a Monster Energy Drink on my way to the train station every morning. It's only $2.70 and it helps me get going. $2.70 is nothing right? On that same morning, "The Boss" stops at that same gas station and drops $1.50 on her cup of coffee. I'll buy a hot dog and a soda at work because it's quick, cheap and easy, only $1.63. Again $1.63 is no big deal right? I have more than $1.63 under my couch cushions. Those three meaningless items tally up a grand total of $1800 per year. Crazy huh? Now I know that $1800 a year isn't going to make or break anyone. But that's just two drinks and a hot dog. That doesn't count the cheap $7 bottle of wine that we drink 6 days a week. That only amounts to a little over $2000 a year. Our little family of four eats out at a fast food joint at least once a week. On the average we spend about $25. Not bad for a family of four to eat for $25 huh?   That's only $1200 per year. Now we're getting somewhere. That's $5000 baby, and I'm just getting started. Every two weeks, I buy a case of beer for around $25. Now let's not get crazy, I'm not giving up my sweet nectar, but that's $600 a year. In my last post, I told you that we had the cable company knock us down to local channels. That saves us $1200 a year too. I have two train stations equal distance to my house. One of them is one stop closer to work but is in a less desirable part of town. By getting on at that station, I save $2 a day. Not a big deal until you do the math. $384 per year in my pocket.  Add it all up and we spend roughly $7200 per year on worthless crap. Add credit cards to the mix which I wont get into here, and what you have is a recipe for disaster. This is how we've been living our lives for years. Scary huh?

     As a household we make approximately $30,000 more per year than the average family, (I Googled it). We do live in Southern California where the cost of living is higher than in many parts of the country but how long can I use that as my excuse? No more! We have made the decision to manage our money instead of continuing to let it manage us. We've made it a sort of game to see how much money we can not spend instead of how much we can spend. There will be time for playing with our loot down the road. But for now we are focused on fixing our mistakes.

     In Dave Ramsey's book, he writes about a man who was known in his community as "The Secret Santa." Every year, this guy would walk through the streets of his town handing out $100 bills to random people and wishing them Happy Holidays. It is my Christmas wish to one day be able to do the same thing. This guy didn't reveal his identity until he was diagnosed with cancer. He then held a press conference and stated that his only wish was that once he was gone, that those who he had helped would one day pay it forward. The people were grateful for the gifts that he had given them. But what a gift it must have been for him to be able to help those less fortunate. That to me is what it's all about. How about you?

Dave Ramsey Project. Volume 3: Death Of A Couch Potato

2011-06-04T11:31:00.000-07:00

     It's been a week since we started our Total Money Makeover, and I have had several friends and readers approach me about it. Let me make one thing clear about what we are doing. We are not desperate, there is no financial crisis, the kids are fed, the bills are paid, and everything is just fine. We as a family have simply decided that we no longer want to live with debt. We are taught from day one that credit is good, debt is necessary and that's just the way it is. Like everyone else, we bought into it. We lived like everyone else. We did everything we had to do to keep up with the Joneses. Turns out the Joneses are in debt too. We're taking an alternative approach and changing our old spending habits. We have never been fiscally responsible and so now is the time, nothing more, nothing less. So don't worry about us, dear friends. Everything is going to be ok. We're living like no one else now, so that later we can live like no one else.

     Three days ago, I did what I consider to be the hardest part of our Total Money Makeover. I called our cable company and told them to knock us down to just the local channels. No HBO, no CNN, no NFL Network, not even Nick At Nite (we sleep with Nick At Nite on all night.) The physical reaction my body had to this decision was real.. I thought for a moment I might vomit. I paced around the house for what seemed like forever trying to figure out why the heck I would deliberately do this to myself and my loved ones. Then I realized that the physical feeling that I had experienced was the couch potato within me dying a slow and painful death. I don't like regular network programming and local news for the most part is not news. I don't care that Jane Smith passed away in her Pacoima residence this afternoon. Surprise! Jane Smith was 108 years old. Of course she died in her Pacoima residence this afternoon.

      Why get rid of cable? For a number of reasons.  For one, it saves us almost $100 a month. That money for the time being is going toward building our emergency fund. We are saving up six months worth of expenses so that when a rainy day comes, and it will come, we wont have to use credit cards because we will have the cash on hand. 2. we spend a lot more time hanging out together instead of burying our brains in some worthless TV show. 3. we have Netflix($9 a month) so it's not like we're totally in the Dark Ages.

     This program is not for the squeemish. I was squeemish at first. Sacrifices, and I mean big sacrifices are necessary to make it work. We have a long way to go but after a week, our world hasn't crumbled, we are on the same page, and we're excited to finally be in control of our finances. We have a plan and we're going to see it through. For years, "The Boss" has been in control of the money. She has told me what we have or what we don't have and I just went along. Now, we are in this together which is how it should have been all along. I am more involved than ever before which takes some of the burden away from her. Sorry I'm so late to the party. Thanks, Babe.

The Dave Ramsey Project. Volume 2: The Dirty Old Shoes

2011-06-01T14:46:00.000-07:00

     My first true test on our quest to kill our debt came three days ago when I ventured out to find a new pair of shoes. My dirty old shoes were still comfy, but as age does to the body, it also does to the sole. It was time to move on.

     As far back as I can remember, I have always been a bit of a shoe snob. I'll wear a $5 Tee shirt but you can rest assured that I'd paid a pretty penny for some good quality shoes. So as you can imagine, having just read 3/4 of The Total Money Makeover by Dave Ramsey, this trip to buy some new shoes was going to be unlike any I had ever taken before. I went out with a $30 budget, 1/3 to 1/2 of what I would normally expect to pay for a pair of shoes. I knew this was going to take a lot of self control and a lot of telling myself no. At the bottom of every page of Dave's book is a quote that I am struggling to learn how to live by.  "If you will live like no one else, later you can live like no one else." I kept repeating that to myself as I walked by the shoes that I really wanted to buy. If I make sacrifices now, later it will be well worth it. MAN THIS IS TOUGH!

     5 stores, 1 emotional breakdown, and 4 disgruntled texts to "The Boss," later, I found a pair of shoes that I actually kind of like. $30! I didn't think it was possible, and you know what? It actually felt pretty good.

     This program to get us out of debt and living on cash and not credit is going to take us about two years to get through. This was just one small hurdle that I had to jump on my own. Volume 3 is going to reveal a much tougher sacrifice that we have decided to make. One that will take a toll on the whole family for a short while.

     In my last post, I called Dave Ramsey a Hellraiser. This is not to say that I think he is demonic in any way or that he is a bad man. I called him a Hellraiser because after reading two chapters of his book, my life was turned completely upside down. I don't like having my life turned completely upside down. I don't like to admit that I have made horrible decisions with my loot. I hate to admit that I bought a house that I had no business buying in the first place. Whatever. I can't change that now.  What I can do is make much wiser decisions from this point forward. And so that is what we are going to do. $30 shoes and all.

Dave Ramsey Is A Hellraiser

2011-05-27T22:44:00.000-07:00

     Where to start? In the neighborhood of two years ago, my wife, "The Boss" decided to give our mortgage company a call just to see if there could possibly be any way to lower our monthly payment. The response she got went a little something like this. "Well, Mrs. The Boss, we can't even talk to you about this until you have failed to make your house payment for two months." Immediately, we hoisted our red flag. But our mortgage company who we now refer to affectionately as, "The Devil" assured us that we were perfect candidates for a loan modification, and that there is nothing to worry about, as long we stay in constant communication with them and to be truthful along the way.

     After 8 months of jumping through flaming hoops and sending pay stub after pay stub to "Verify" our income, "Devil Mortgage" came to the conclusion that we made far too much money to qualify for a loan modification and that we needed to come up with the 8 months worth of unpaid funds in order to remain current on our loan or face foreclosure.

     In the 8th month of this process, I received a bonus from my employer, one of two that we receive every year. As it turns out, the following paycheck included all of the sick pay that I had not used and was paid for in one lump sum from the previous year. " Mr. "The Boss's husband," our records show that you alone without "The Boss's" income make about $8000 a month, and we think that you are more than able to pay your monthly obligation to this loan." Whereupon I responded, "Are you on drugs? Have you not seen my pay stubs from the past 7 months? If I made that sort of loot, do you think we would be having this conversation?" Hither nor yon, because a year later I am in a rental home down the street from where I once was drowning in debt. Our home was stolen from us simply because we asked for a little assistance.

     A few days ago, my inlaws gave us a book titled, The Total Money Makeover, by Dave Ramsey. For those who don't know of him, Dave Ramsey is a Christian man who is well versed in the arena of finance. He is a man who has experienced first hand the ups and downs of wealth and poverty.

     "The Boss," asked me to read this book with her and to make the neccessary sacrifices in order for us to get out of this financial downward spiral that seemingly has no bottom. Last night I dove in with her. She is a speed reader, so when I got home from work, I realized that I had 108 pages to read just to catch up. It took me from 8:00 to 12:00, but finally we were on the same page. After page 8 or maybe 12, in an uncharacteristic fashion, this Christian financier had his Hellraiserian hooks in me. This is going to be very difficult. This is going to pitch me far outside of my comfy little box, and it's gonna fuckin' hurt.

     Obviously I am changing the normal tone of my blog. I may lose some readers because of it and I'm gonna have to be OK with that. I have decided to further expose my personal world to the real world. I am going to chronical our journey through this financial crisis until we reach freedom on the other side. If I don't go out to eat with you, if I don't go to the ball game with you, if I don't have HBO, if I don't wear the latest fashions, if I have a shitty attitude, if I serve you beans and rice for dinner when you come to my home, blame Dave Ramsey. But when I am completely debt free, taking the vacations I want to take, eating at the restaurants I want to eat at, wearing the clothes and shoes that are currently on the other side of the storefront glass, I hope that you will still be my friend. I hope that you will have supported me from the get go.

     I am going to be very Julie and Julia about this process. It's gonna be a running through Times Square without any pants on kind of experience for me. But at the end of it all I am hoping that the story I have shared will be one of success that ends with a deep exhale and a smile. Wish us luck .

Riding The Rails

2011-02-04T00:12:00.000-08:00

     With the halls undecked, and the hangover of a pretty challenging year worn off almost completely, I have decided to come out of my cave and write again. I've missed you guys. It sure is nice to be back.

     Just before the holidays, I transferred from one department to another at work. Same rank, different responsibilities, and different hours. "White man's hours," as the guys from my old night shift refer to them as. 8AM to 4:30PM is the new deal, and I am loving it.

     I drive a truck, a big GMC pickup truck that guzzles gas like a chubby kid on a birthday cake. So when the opportunity to work these new hours presented itself, "The Boss" came up with the idea that I take the train to work and back instead of driving "The Beast," as my truck has come to be known. In a word. Brilliant! No sitting in some of the worst traffic that Southern California has to offer. No road raging. Reading a book or listening to Pandora Radio through the headphones on my Droid with my eyes closed while someone else is worrying about getting me to my destination? Sign me up!

     One of my favorite things to do is be the silent observer. I love to listen to people talk, and one thing that I've noticed over the years of mastering my voyeuristic craft, is that while we are all different, we're all pretty much the same. From manager to maintenance man, we are all the best at our jobs, and there is no way the place would ever survive without us. We all fix everyone else's screw ups, and we all know the best way to do the job.  It's just a matter of time before the rest of the world agrees with us and jumps on board. Hey, it's not eavesdropping when someone speaks loud enough for the entire group in the third car to hear them. For one hour a day, on this train we are in each other's lives and your business becomes my business until I exit at Irvine Station.

     "Ladies and Gentlemen," the conductor's voice calls from the PA system. "Please keep your personal belongings with you at all times and notify the conductor if you notice anything...........Askew." He says this every morning and this morning was no different. Only, this morning there was something "askew." As I'm stepping off the train at Irvine Station this morning, an African American woman came running out on to the platform from the third car right behind me. I call her African American, but how do I know she isn't from Jamaica or Haiti or New Zealand originally? Here nor there. "Someone forgot they lunch!" she yelled as she waved the red and white cooler in the air above her head. Above my head too for that matter. Now, the likelihood that the contents of that cooler were anything other than a turkey on whole wheat, a banana and a cup of Activia was slim to none. But I couldn't help but think, "Honey, that cooler is the "Askew" that Scott, the conductor has been talking about every morning." So instead of sticking around to watch that banana explode, I got the hell out of Dodge. Then I got to thinking (as I always do in any situation) about food. How, if that were my turkey on whole wheat that the nice lady was swinging around the platform, it would have a nice dijon or brown mustard liberally spread on both slices. And the Activia would not be an Activia but an orange, because I'm not much of a yogurt eater. Now you're riding my mind. It's a bumpy ride sometimes, I know. A little strange, I'm aware. But it's real and I'm sharing it with you.

     The best part about this whole thing, is that at 6:08PM and not a minute later, I am home with my girls. Every night we have dinner together. We share our daily happenings, we laugh, sometimes we're grumpy, but we're together. I get to kiss them goodnight, at least on the nights that "Short Stack" allows me to. She's 2 years old tonight and quite the character. Kisses goodnight or not, I get to be a part of their lives more now than ever before. So, for as long as I can, I'll continue to ride those rails. They always seem to bring me home, where I belong and just in time.

Scuba Diving Catalina Island

2011-01-21T23:54:00.000-08:00

Back in October, before the hustle and bustle of the holidays, I, along with 3 of my good friends jumped on a boat and sailed 25 miles west off the California Coast to a little island called Santa Catalina. This was the place where we would complete our last two required dives under the supervision of our instructor before becoming certified open water divers. Words alone cannot describe what that experience was like. Luckily, one of the guys (who has been diving for many years) brought a camera along to document our adventure. The visibility here was so much better than our first dive at Shaw's Cove, Laguna Beach. Take a look and you'll see why this place is a diver's paradise.

The Garibaldi. Our very territorial State fish

A pic of me with our gracious hosts.

The sunlight shining throught the kelp looked really cool.

Just hangin' out 45' below the surface.

Everything is A-OK

Weightless. If only for a moment.

Going through some survival drills.

Greetings From The Pacific

Extreme Close-up

As a new diver, these winter months seem endless. The waters off of our coast are far too cold to dive comfortably this time of year leaving us only one option... Wait. We have to wait for warmer weather and warmer waters. Until then, we talk about diving, we share pictures and stories with friends...........And we wait...............And wait...

Shark Bait.... Ooo.. Ha Ha...

2010-10-22T12:35:00.000-07:00

     The fact that I saw, Tall Stack the moment she was born, and the fact that she is a much prettier version of me is enough to prove that I am her father. But, what really sealed the deal was, last Saturday, she won a goldfish at the school carnival and named him, "Frank" All of the other neighborhood kids named their fish traditional names like, Rainbow, or Bubbles. Nope, my kid named hers, Frank. I love it. I find a lot of humor in giving animals, people names. So Frank was just perfect.

     We all remember being nine. The anticipation and excitement of tossing that ping pong ball into the yellow cup of water and winning that cute little goldfish. You can't wait to get him home and into that bowl. You can't wait to feed him and watch him grow. Such high hopes we had, didn't we?

     Reliving this experience as the parent, knowing what the end result will be is a pretty uncomfortable place to be. As if some sick and painful right of passage that we cannot avoid looms on the horizon. We pray to God that that ping pong ball will bounce off the rim of that cup and end up on the ground. We hope that the face painting booth next door will divert the kid's attention. Of course this prayer on this day is answered. It just isn't the answer that we were hoping for. The look on her face when she won, Frank was priceless. She was so excited and couldn't wait to get him home. The Boss and I gave each other that look. We agreed without words to let this blissful moment commence without warning that within days, 3 at the most, we will be conducting a tearful ceremony over the toilet in the downstairs bathroom.

     3 days came and went. Frank continued to do laps in his bowl as the rest of the neighborhood fish were dropping like flies. He has the heart of a lion, I thought. He is going to defeat the odds. 4 days and still going strong. "You are a warrior, Frank." I actually said this to him through the glass although I'm sure he didn't hear me over the swoosh of the water streaking past his head as he circled the bowl with lightning speed.

     Day 5 was met with much different results. The laps around the bowl had ceased. The interest in life was gone. The offers of food, ignored. I was there when, Frank gasped his last breath of Target brand distilled water. The boss and I agreed that we must get rid of him before, Tall Stack got home from school.

     "Who once came from the sea, must return to the sea." These were the words I spoke as I pressed the brushed steel handle of the downstairs toilet. And just like that, Frank was gone.

     It's these moments of parenthood that make us appreciate our parents a little more. They make us love our kids a little more. And they make us wonder what lessons can be learned about life and death. Does surviving a mildly broken heart really make us stronger? I hope for, Tall Stack's sake that it does.

The Uterine Walls Are Closing In

2010-10-04T00:38:00.000-07:00

     Dammit, I crack myself up...

     OK, let me preface tonight's post by saying that nothing in this life gives me more joy than being the father of my two girls, "The Stacks," one short and one tall, as they've come to be known. Not to mention, "The Boss," who after ten years of marriage still makes me feel like the luckiest guy in town.

BE THAT AS IT MAY.......

     Living in this estrogen abundant environment does not come without its dangers and challenges. Oh, I stand at the top of my stairs in the morning like a mature Simba, watching over my kingdom... The golden locks of my mane blowing in the artificial wind created by the air conditioner vent just over my left shoulder. Truth be told, my locks are more of a strawberry blond but let's face it, that doesn't have quite the same dramatic effect. The pride below hardly gives me half a glimpse as a reminder that I am but a figurehead and that they, and only they truly rule the roost. Sometimes, when I turn my back to them , I hear their failed attempts at a silent giggle. I hardly make a fuss though, not because I'm weak but because I have learned to choose my battles wisely.

     From time to time, when it feels as if the uterine walls are closing in around me. When I can't take the sound of a crying "Short Stack" for one more second. Or when I can't sit and watch Riding in Cars With Boys for the 100th time. "The Boss" will send me out to do what the women in this family call, Weenie welding." It's not as painful as it sounds, don't worry. Directly translated it means, "Go hang out with the boys." Sometimes that means a round of golf, or a night of fishing out on the pier. More recently, it means going outside with the neighbors. The neighbor to the left, we'll call him "Techy" he's a gadget guy. The neighbor to the right, we'll call, "Reverend". He's not really a reverend, but he can quote scripture like Billy Graham is his daddy. We have some of the greatest times just hanging out in front of the house in our little cul de sac. We talk about guy crap. We bitch about girl crap. We reassure each other that everything is going to be just fine. We drink a beer or two. Then we break our huddle and go back to our families with refueled jets.

The moral of the story is..... Bosses, let your men weenie weld for a bit. It's good for him. It's good for you. And it's good for the overall wellness of the family. Don't you agree?

Letters From Insomnia

2010-10-01T02:54:00.000-07:00

     What do you do when you have taken inventory of your sheep over and over and over again and you still can't seem to fall asleep? For seven, count them seven nights, I have had this issue. Not only have I been struggling to sleep, I have also had a hard time trying to find something to write about. So after the third night of tossing and turning with nothing really weighing on my mind, I began to take note of my worthless thoughts and started jotting them down on the moist in one corner, bar napkin in my brain. The following are some of the highlights that I thought might be worth sharing. These are all true thoughts. Some of them are so off the wall that you simply could not make them up. And in no particular order, here we go.

     "Oh my, it feels good to be in bed. It's 3AM, why am I still awake? I wish there was a Kleenex within arms length, I'd get rid of this nose goblin that bounces to and fro with every breath I take. If I picked it and flicked it at the TV, I bet I could make the nanny named Fran (yeah we're Nick at Nite people) look like she has a beauty mark on her cheek. But then when it goes to commercial, I'll still have a booger on my TV. Better not do that." At that point, I actually laughed out loud. "I hope "The Boss" doesn't wake up. Ooh, "The Boss."   If I grab her boob, do you think she'll wake up? Probably! Her alarm is gonna go off in an hour. Grabbing her boob at this hour isn't romantic, it's fuckin' rude. Hey, there's cold pizza in the fridge. Yeah but that's way down stairs. If I had the energy to go way down stairs, then I could walk ten steps to the bathroom to get the Kleenex that would get rid of the nose goblin that I have already considered lobbing at Fran Drescher. More work than it's worth"...........................WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP, "You're a jerk, Alarm. Only three hours of sleep, give or take." Time to get "Tall Stack" off to school and then entertain "Short Stack" until 10:30 when "The Boss" gets home.

     Do you ever have trouble sleeping? Are your thoughts during those wasted hours as weird as mine? Please, tell me I'm not alone. Tell me I'm not absolutely insane. It's 2:51 AM as I close out this morning's post. I have to be up in 3 1/2 hours. Time to head up to bed. Duck and cover Ms. Fine.

I'm A Survivor

2010-09-19T10:38:00.000-07:00

"The Boss" and I recently got new phones. Smart phones which make life a lot easier. These phones could be compared to, (and I know I am dating myself when I say this) when the microwave oven and the VCR were first introduced. Once you have these things, you wonder how you ever lived without them. So a couple of weeks ago, I was checking my calendar on this new smart phone. A phone so smart that it has synced to "The Boss'" calendar as well. This is a cool feature that makes sure that we are always on the same page. That's when the panic was embedded deep within the fibers of my soul. There it was. September 18: Mother/Daughter sleep over. This could only mean one thing. I was going to have to endure a night alone with "Short Stack," my 19 month old daughter with the body of a pixy and the strong will of a Grizzly Bear. The fear was that kind you feel when you are changing the radio station in your car, only to look up and notice that the car in front of you has stopped. That split second of terror you feel is how I have felt for 2 weeks.

With Short Stack down for her nap, The Boss and Tall Stack escaped for their girls night out without incident. I got about an hour of down time before I heard the roar coming from behind the closed door at the top of the stairs. "MAAAAMA!" It was go time, I had no choice but to go in there. Maybe if I avoid eye contact, it wont be aggressive toward me. My approach was slow and calculated. I opened the door only to find a smiling face peering back at me. We went down stairs, I made dinner, we played, I gave her a bath, we played some more and I put her to bed. Not one tear, not one tantrum from either one of us. It was a really pleasant night. Much like the Great white Shark and the Grizzly Bear, I think that the toddler is just a misunderstood creature. They are not by nature aggressive nor do they have malice in their hearts. Through further research, I am hoping to prove this theory. But until then I shall bask in the glory of being a survivor.

Just Dive In!

2010-09-15T01:59:00.000-07:00

I am a man with lofty aspirations. I make big plans to do big things, and when I make such plans, I intend to see them through. Coincidentally, I am also the mayor of Procrastinationville. As you may have read from my previous posts, I was going to climb the mountain behind my house, I was going to write a book, (a book the people were sure to read), and I was going to win a camera in a weight loss contest against, "The Boss." While these plans simmer on the back burner like a watched pot, I occasionally add a pinch of good reason and a dash of excuses to spice up this cauldron of underachievement.

Recently, the Grand Daddy of all plans came about. I, along with a couple of my good friends decided we were going to be scuba divers. We hired an instructor, we read the books, we passed our written exams, and we spent all day on Labor Day in the pool learning how to use our equipment. Then on Wednesday, we actually dove in the Pacific Ocean. Let me tell you what diving 35 feet under the surface of the Pacific Ocean does to a person. Initially, it scares the living shit out of you since we're being completely honest here. Once you're done peeing in your wetsuit and the fear subsides, the beauty and tranquility, the power and vastness really put into perspective how small we are in the overall scheme of things. I came out of the water with such a sense of accomplishment and a renewed appreciation for what this life has given me. Not to mention, I actually followed through on something for a change.

I still plan to climb that mountain behind my house. And once I find my pen (creative vibe to write), I will get back to work on writing something worth reading. Of course I will need to stop procrastinating too. Starting next week!

This post isn't my best work but it sure is fun to be writing again. I missed you guys.

A New Seed Is Planted

2010-06-28T13:16:00.000-07:00

As you know from my previous post, we have moved into an apartment across town from our home which we have had to relinquish to the bank. What originally seemed like a financial no brainer has turned into a case of complete isolation from our friends, our community and everything else that is important to us. We have not begun to unpack any of our boxes. I don't even know where most of my clothes are, nor do I have any intention of trying to locate them.

A couple of weeks ago, "The Boss" went to our house to pick up a few things that we need to add to the clutter of our tiny abode. She was gone for less than an hour when the following text conversation began. THE BOSS: "The house between Wendy and Gina is for rent." (Wendy and Gina and their families live just around the corner from our house.) ME: "Oh yeah? I wish we would have known that before we moved to this little apartment." THE BOSS: "I want that house!" ME: "Me too but we signed a lease here and it will cost a lot to break that lease. Not to mention the security deposit and first months rent on the new place." THE BOSS: "I want that house." ME: "This is not a conversation to have via text messaging. We will talk about it when you get home."

Needless to say, it was a short conversation that took place when she got home. When we moved into this little apartment across town, we took "Tall Stack" (our oldest daughter who just turned nine this month) out of her home, out of her school district and away from her friends. So, two cashiers checks, one broken lease and one freshly signed contract later, we are on the move again. Like a band of gypsies, we are packing up our gear and heading out of here after just over a month.

You might be wondering if this makes any sense financially. I asked myself this same question about 1000 times. Here's the thing though. Keeping "Tall Stack" in her school, living in between two amazing families who are dear friends of ours and not seeing "The Boss" cry every night because she feels so guilty about moving over here in the first place. These reasons are not something that you can slap a price tag on.

So we aren't going home, but we are getting as close to home as we can possibly get and we are looking forward to the BBQs with friends and neighbors. We are looking forward to having space to put all of our stuff again. But most of all we are looking forward to seeing "Tall Stack" return to her school that she loves so much.

It doesn't always seem to make sense at the time, but things really do happen for I reason. It's taken me 36 years to finally believe that. Do you believe it too?

My Tree Has Been Chopped Down

2010-06-05T02:24:00.000-07:00

     So in the past several months, things haven't gone according to the plan that "The Boss" and I had laid out for our family. Due to several medical bills and other unexpected expenses of being alive, we found it more and more difficult to keep up with our monthly house payment. 7 months of jumping through the flaming hoops of our mortgage company to get our loan modified, they denied us because we make too much money. As it turns out, we make too much money to do a short sale too. So we decided to walk away from our house and move into an apartment so that we can have a fresh start and actually be able to enjoy our lives instead of working our asses off only to be in the red at the end of every month. The sense of failure and overwhelming damage to the ego of a man who is supposed to be the protector and provider for his family is not easy to put into words.

     Yesterday was my first day back to work after taking a few days off to get us moved into the new apartment. As you can imagine, I spent a good portion of the day feeling sorry for myself as I hosted a rager of a pity party in my own mind while on the outside I had to manage people and maintain a professional and positive attitude. Late in the day, I ran into an employee who used to work for me but who now works in a different department. We will call him Ruben, because Ruben is his name. I haven't seen Ruben for a while so it was nice to see him. We shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, and that's when it happened. He said to me in his very deep Guatemalan accent, "Ju fine what choo loose." "What?" "Ju Fine what choo loose." "What do you mean?"  "Joor getteen big agang."

     This time last year, I lost about 25 pounds and was looking pretty good. I have gained almost all of that weight back and I was already feeling like a big fat loser. I could have done without a comment like that. He is absolutely right though. I did indeed fine what I loose.

     As tough as things may seem and as homesick and cut down as I might feel, my beautiful wife and daughters are happy and healthy. That really is all that matters to me. As long as we are together, no matter where we are, we're home. That alone is what will get me through this with my sanity. That and dragging my fat ass through the P90X program again.

How Do You Know?

2010-04-12T10:27:00.000-07:00

     On April 8th, my wife and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary. 10 years! 10 years!! I've never committed to anything for 10 years in my life, which brings me to the point of today's post.

     How do you know when you have found "The One?" Now, I'm no expert on marriage and I don't have a degree in family psychology, but the following is a list of observations and life experiences that I have compiled over the past decade that could just answer that age old question.

     When I first started seriously dating "The Boss" we had a conversation that went a something like this. (Me) If we are going to be together, you need to be OK with the fact that I am sometimes and probably more often that you'd like, going to fart. (The Boss) OK good, me too, I'm glad we cleared that up from the start.

     (Me) I know that you will still find other men attractive as will I still find other women attractive, but you can trust that when I am with you, I am only with you. (The Boss) OK good, I'm glad there wont be any jealousy to ruin what we have here and trust is the main ingredient to our being together. Hey, look at that girl over there, I bet you think she's hot. (Me) This relationship is going to work out just fine.

     As the years rolled on and our marriage fell into its routine of being parents first, lovers a very close neck and neck second, and everything else a distant third. We began to develop our own language, some of it not much less primitive than tribal clicks and vibratos but one that we and only we understand. In a social setting we can have a conversation from across the room without ever saying a word. A flicker of the eye, a quick and unnoticed by anyone else hand gesture and we are immediately on the same page.

     Just recently we had a conversation that I will share with you here at the risk of losing some of my followers with sensitive stomachs.

     I got home the other day to find her just hangin' on the couch and biting her finger nails. Without noticing that I was watching her, she lobbed a piece of fingernail behind her head between the couch and the wall.

     (The Boss) I just tossed my fingernail behind the couch. (Me) Oh My God! I do the same thing. (The Boss) Sometimes I flick my boogers back there too. (Me) Oh shit! Me too! (The Boss) There aint nothin' back there but boogers and fingernails. (Me) Good thing I just bought that 5 horsepower 12 gallon shop vac at Home Depot because I don't think the Oreck could handle a job like that. We must have laughed for 10 minutes before we agreed that something must be done about this. (Me) I'll take care of it.

     Wanting her to be the first person I talk to in the morning and the last person I talk to before I lay my head to rest. Knowing that no matter how bad a day I might have had at work she can make me smile when I get home. Knowing that whether or not I get the things around the house that need to be done done, she will still love me. Knowing that we both love our daughters more than anything in the world. Knowing that when we get burned out on real life, Fred will always have margaritas for us down in San Diego to help us ecape. And knowing that no one else can ever make me feel as good as I do right now, is how I know that I have found the one. I love you babe. Happy Anniversary. I only hope that you will let me stick around for another 10 years.

All Rise

2010-03-03T09:17:00.000-08:00

     Yesterday I was once again called upon to perform my civic duty. Normally I would consider it a drag to have to miss work to sit around all day at the court house. But this year was different. You see, I have not had a vacation since around the first week in June which was when I took my paternity leave after "Short Stack" was born. And let's face it, those sleepless nights for the first few months were anything but a relaxing vacation. So this year, I looked at it as a sort of short break from reality. In fact, I was almost hoping to be selected for any sort of trial that could last for an extended period of time. So I, along with several hundred other civicly responsible people lined up to be herded into the Hall of Justice one by one through the metal detectors. No threat from me, all I had was a cell phone, keys and this beat up old copy of Empire Falls. (397 of the 480 some odd pages were already a thing of the past but I figured today might be the day that I would finally put the entire book behind me.) But I nonetheless appreciated the thorough precautions.

     Once settled in, if that's what you would call sitting uncomfortably close to hundreds of complete strangers on a chair that after a few minutes makes your back scream at you, I could finally do what I was really there to do. Yes we are all there to fulfill our responsibility to society, but what I'm there for is to watch the people. There's always the realtor on the phone who thinks that the louder she talks to whoever is on the other end of the phone, the more important she appears to be to the 399 of us who are sitting around her.  Next to her is that young guy whose pants hang off of his ass and you can see half of his underwear. Go ahead and look at him it's ok because his mind is lost somewhere in that overly loud ipod that he is listening to. Next to him would be me. I'm the guy fighting against my own body, twisting and repositioning hoping against all hope that I will eventually find a more comfortable position but failing miserably after hours of sitting in this torture device of a chair.

     Once released for a short break, and people are finally out of each other's personal spaces, they seem to take on a whole new personality. The smokers fire up as soon as they are out the front door. The social and business butterflies go straight for their cell phones. The little old man with his red had, green shirt and leather sandals, which are at least 2 sizes to big, scampers from trash can to trash can collecting any recyclables that the rest of us might have left for him. The most entertaining to me was the pregnant druggie whose uterus was about to give way while she yelled at her loved one on the other end of the phone about how that "God Damn Judge" screwed her again. "He got me on fuckin' probation violation again, that motherf***er." Yep, it's the judges fault sweetheart. The fact that you are knocked up and obviously strung out on meth is totally not your fault and I don't understand why his honor doesn't see it your way.

     Then it happened. I was selected with a group of 45 other people to go to Department 1 that was going to meet up after lunch at 1:30. So out we all herd again like cattle to feed. The only thing missing was the branding iron, thank God. Having discovered the same restaurant last year, I quickly ran across the street and down a way to this little Mexican joint. Because it's always a good idea to fill your stomach with spicy foods when you are going to be sitting all day in a place that requires your undivided attention. What a fool I am. It was a damn good Burrito though. And why wouldn't you wash it down with a bladder buster sized Coke? It makes sense doesn't it?

     After the lunch break we all filed back in......Again.......This time we sat there and waited.......and waited........and then waited some more.......We waited for what seemed like days. I tried to get lost in Empire Falls as planned, but the chair that was having its way with my back and the hint of an oncoming migraine simply had their hooks in me. Finally they called, "All who were selected for Department 1 please come to the front desk. Your trial has been cancelled and you are all free to go." Really?!! I sat here all day thinking we were going to see some action. I sat here in pain all damn day in the hopes that it would result in my being selected for this trial only for you to say that I am free to go? Where is the justice in that?

Acing The Test Of Time

2010-02-13T01:39:00.000-08:00

     What's today? Friday? Yeah, so it was on Wednesday when the boss and I went to Costco to gather up all of the gear we are going to need for "Shorts Stack's" first birthday party tomorrow. Sodas, snacks, sandwich platters ordered, cake ordered, candy for all of the kids who will attend and whatever else we loaded in the basket. None of this matters, nor does any of it have to do with the point of the story other than to give purpose to our visit in the first place.

     With all items purchased and dent deeply pressed into the bank account, we followed the herd toward the exit. In front of us, the boss notices this old couple holding hands. "Oh my God, how cute are they?" she asked in a pointing without actually physically pointing tone. I am a football watching, beer drinking, places that itch scratching, nose picking and flicking kind of guy, as I have mentioned before. So I don't find very many things in life to be "cute." But Holy shit, Batman, she's right. This was pretty damn cute. Which got me to thinking. What are they smiling at each other so intensely about? Perhaps one of them said something funny. Perhaps they are just so in love with each other that they just can't help but smile. Maybe they were excited about going home for a quick afternoon rendezvous (it could happen.) Whatever the reason, and whatever you want to call it, seeing them together made me feel comfortable or all warm and fuzzy if you will.

     In a world where people get divorced as quickly as they drop off their dry cleaning. It was nice to see that some people do stick together and love each other even after a lifetime of underwear on the floor, empty toilet paper rolls left for someone else to replenish, and toothpaste tubes squeezed from the middle and not from the end.

     In April, the boss and I will celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. A mere drop in the bucket compared to some, and a major feat for others. Watching this old couple completely enjoy being with each other, I couldn't help but smile myself. I hope that in another 40 years, we will have aced the test of time and that the boss will still let me hold her hand.

Going Postal

2010-02-07T23:59:00.000-08:00

The Boss had to work on Saturday afternoon which left me alone with the girls with just one errand to run. All I had to do was run to the post office to get some stamps and mail off a letter. "I got this," or so I thought.

With the girls safely loaded in the truck, we were on our way to send a letter. As usual, I shuffled from one radio station to the next as I always do to prove to "Tall Stack," (one of millions of nicknames we have for our first born) that I know every single song on the radio and that I can sing them in an American Idol finalist sort of fashion. She is never as impressed with my obvious talents as I am. She never actually says that I am a horrible singer but I can tell by the look of disgust that she tries to hide from me as to not hurt my feelings.

Finally, and much to "Tall Stack's" relief, we made it to the post office. I got out of the truck and got "Short Stack," (the one year old and an obviously much shorter stack than "Tall Stack," hence the name) out of the back seat. I close the door and we walk about five feet before I realize that the damn keys have just been locked in behind me.

With the next band of the storm looming on the horizon, I knew I had to act fast or we were going to be in some serious trouble. Having just recently renewed our Auto Club accounts, I knew the help was just a phone call away.

With the letter mailed off and help on the way, all we had to do was wait.........and wait........"The storm is getting closer Dad.".........and wait........"How could you do that Dad?"............riiiing......riiing.......The phone rings and the tow truck company claims to be here but there doesn't seem to be any sign of me, my kids, or my truck in the parking lot. "That's because I am not at the post office on Grand Ave. I am at the post office on California Ave."...........and wait.............and wait............."we're going to get rained on Dad."

Finally the tow truck arrives and the guy gets my door opened for me. Everyone was once again safely loaded into their seats and we were on our way, dry I might add.

What makes this story so funny to me is not that we lost an hour of our lives in the parking lot of a post office. But that I have become the guy who I would usually laugh at for being such an absent minded fool. "That kind of thing doesn't happen to me," I would say as I point and laugh at the douchebag stuck in the parking lot with no keys and a crying baby in his arms. I'm afraid I've lost a step my friends. I am not as cool as I was in the younger days. The time has come for me to pass the torch to the younger generation of punks who will point and laugh at me while I make foolish geezer mistakes.

While "Short Stack" was none too pleased about the whole situation, on the way home and in between me singing a little David Bowie, followed by a little Gwen Stefani, "Tall Stack" and I had a good laugh about the whole thing.

Girl Scouts: Do-gooders Or Saboteurs?

2010-02-04T09:33:00.000-08:00

     Yeah so it's that time of year again. It's time for New Years Resolutions of becoming a healthier you to come to an end. It's time for Chips Ahoy and Oreo sales to drop dramatically. That's right, it's Girl Scout Cookie season again.

     To most people this is a great time of year. You run into the booth in front of the grocery store and pick up a box or two of those world famous Thin Mints and you feel good about your decision. You feel good because not only are those Thin Mints delicious, but the $4 a box is going to a very good organization which teaches values and morals to the young girls of America.

     As the father of one of these young girls, I have seen the positive effects that the Girl Scouts of America can have on the lives of these girls. They do things for the community, they go on outings to teach the girls life skills, and everything they do helps to build the self confidence and self esteem.

     Here's where The Girl Scouts of America and I have a problem. The estrogen and sugar fueled marketing campaign that is the Girl Scout Cookie Season leaves a trail of failed diets, abandoned workout regiments and overwhelming feelings of guilt in its wake.

     About a week ago, I started the P90X challenge as some of you may know. You can call it bad timing if you'd like, but I call it sabotage. A day or two after I started the program, The Boss and daughter come home with a car full of Girl Scout Cookies. You heard me right, A CAR FULL! With my arms hanging from my body like wet noodles and the extreme soreness that engulfed my entire body from the previous night's workout, I helped them unload the boxes of evil deliciousness into the garage. Box after box of Thin Mints, Thanks-A-Lots, Peanut Butter Sandwichs, Shortbread, Peanut Butter Patties and Caramel Delights were simply too much for my will power and self control to handle. Not to mention the big blue eyes, now in puppy dog mode accompanied by the pouty lower lip, "Wont you buy some cookies from me Daddy?" I mean, who are the ad wizards who came up with this perfect scheme? I had no choice, I bought the cookies. I bought 3 boxes and I got my fix. That night, I did an extra set of Feifer scissors to make up for my earlier lack of self control. My P90X friends, you know what I'm talking about. Thanks a lot Girl Scouts of AMERICA!!!

P90X or Pizza?

2010-01-29T10:19:00.000-08:00

All of a sudden, The Boss is very serious about our new fitness competition. If I have a partner and a goal, I go all out and can be focused like no other, or so I thought.

A few days ago I started the P90X program and I am in a world of hurt. For those of you who don't know what P90X is all about, I will tell you. It's a fitness program equipped with a full menu of real foods that you can actually make and enjoy, (I haven't really paid attention to the nutrition part of it yet) and for 90 days this guy on the videos (12 to be more precise) kicks the living shit out of you from head to toe. I have been doing it though, and I wont say that I have been eating all heathy foods, but I can say that I am mindful of what I am eating.

Last night when I got home from work, I had it all planned out. I was going to run upstairs, kiss the girls goodnight, check in with Anderson Cooper on CNN to make sure that the world was just as fouled up as it was before I had left for work 9 hours earlier. After that I was going to kill myself with a little Ab Ripper X. So this is what I did, upstairs I went, girls were all kissed and tucked in for the night, AC confirmed that the world was indeed as jacked up as I had left it, thanks for the update, AC. But then something went terribly wrong. As I went to reach for the DVD, I mistakenly reached for a mini deep dish frozen pizza. And instead of putting the DVD in the DVD player, I put the mini deep dish pizza in the mini deep dish pizza cooker (microwave). "What the Hell am I doing?" I think I actually asked myself out loud. I answered myself in a tone that scared even the new tougher, more muscular, but sore as all can be and in no mood for any physical altercations, me. "Shut up fat boy and just eat the damn pizza." Who am I to argue?

The pizza was delicious, I'm not going to lie to you. The stench of guilt was heavy in the air, almost as strong as the smell of once frozen but now sizzling pepperoni. I burned the roof of my mouth on the melted cheese and while the pain was intense, I was no slave to it. No sir, I was much too busy enjoying the flavor and the feeling of getting away with something evil while no one was looking.

My delicious failure was a setback, I have to admit, but I'm back on track today. I hate you P90X, I really really hate you.

I Am Not A Pervert

2010-01-25T23:53:00.000-08:00

I find it neccessary to let you people know that I am not a pervert. I am not usually in the business of showing my underwear in public, though I must admit that this is not the first time that it has happened. Nor for that matter can I, in good faith, promise that it will be the last time either.

I, like most men in America, am a beer drinkin', football watchin', areas that itch scratchin', nose pickin' and flickin' kind of guy who doesn't invest a lot of time on issues like fashion and apparel. That is until I discovered the world of Burberry boxers.

The Boss' cousin is a GM for Burberry in Seattle, and as luck would have it, he drew my name in the cousins gift exchange for Christmas. Upon opening the gift and discovering that another man had just bought me a pair of boxers for Christmas, I couldn't help but wonder what the thought process was while making the decision to do such a thing. Was this unlikely gift a last minute purchase while leaving work the night before jumping on his flight to California? Was this a purchase he had already made for himself and in a last ditch effort to come up with a gift idea for his cousin's husband 1500 miles away, just tossed them in his carry on bag and moved on to his next and certainly more important order of business? Oh no! This was not an effortless, thoughtless, last minute gift. No this was something much more special and much more thoughtful and calculated than I had originally given it credit for. It wasn't until a day or two later though, that I realized just how great a gift this really was.

As a kid, you build an image in your mind of what Heaven would be like. How it looks, how it feels, and hope one day that by the grace of God you are welcomed there when that time comes. You can scrap that image son, I'm telling you right now. Heaven is not what you pictured it to be at all. As it turns out, Heaven is constructed of a high thread count, earth tone and pastel pattern of plaid that feels like billowing clouds of glory and wonder each and every second that it envelopes the skin.

I willingly humiliate myself like this today as a public service. If you do not have a pair of these boxers, I urge you to do yourself a favor and score a pair as soon as you can. You will thank me for it.

I know the image above is a disturbing one and I am sorry to have subjected you to such a display without prior warning.

Sincerely,

John

PS I did all of my own stunts in the making of this blog post.

Ding Dong Ditch 'Em

2010-01-22T10:21:00.000-08:00

One night last week, one of our young neighborhood scoundrels decided it would be funny to ring our doorbell and then take off. I wasn't home to join in the festivities, but truth be told I had a good laugh when I got the text from The Boss saying that, "Little assholes keep ding dong ditching me." Apparently this went on for about an hour or so before The Boss ran outside and yelled "KNOCK IT OFF!" This solved the problem and the girls went about their evening.

On Wednesday night, I was home cooking dinner, watching The Hangover and enjoying of all things a little Kahlua with hot chocolate. I am not particularly fond of Kahlua nor hot chocolate, but when you put the two together it spells G-L-O-R-I-O-U-S. Suddenly the doorbell rings and we all assume that it's Torrey, one of my daughter's friends who always rings the doorbell when she comes over to play. But it wasn't Torrey, it wasn't Torrey at all. It wasn't anybody for that matter. "Oh it's on" I said as my competitive spirit snapped to attention. For 20 minutes I stood at the door peeking through the peep hole with my hand on the knob of the unlocked door contemplating my plan of attack should this nocturnal pusher of buttons decide to strike again.

Should I set a bear trap under the doorbell? Should I jump out and scream as loud as I can to scare the crap out of him? Should I chase him home and make him tell his parents in front of me what he had been doing? All of these options sounded good. But which one will best work for me on this night? I decided to just jump out at him and scream at the top of my lungs. This was going to be awesome and I was ready for action. Mike Tyson's tiger was the frozen image on my TV screen as the paused movie waited in anticipation of what might happen next. My daughter ran upstairs to look out her window so that she could signal when Operation Poopy Pants was about to commence.

Perhaps he knew I was waiting for him, or perhaps his mommy called him to eat dinner. Or maybe although unlikely, he realized that his actions were unjust and uncalled for. Whatever his logic, he did not return for a second attack and we returned to our dinner and a movie night.

You are a worthy opponent, little man. I will catch you one day. You can rest assured that I will catch you one day, and you will know who the true king of this neighborhood really is. You can't cheap shot the cheap shot champ, chump!

On Your Mark....Get Set.......Eat!

2010-01-18T10:04:00.000-08:00

     Try as I might, I have never been able to make my relationship with any New Years resolution last even until February 1st. So this year, The Boss and I have decided to have a little friendly competition that is under no circumstances to be called any sort of resolution.

     On April 8th, we will be celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary and I have to commend the woman for having the fortitude to endure living with a neanderthal like myself for an entire decade without missing a beat.

     I have never lied to you people before, so I don't intend to start now. I know my written words make me sound like a long haired, muscular, disgustingly handsome, smut novel cover worthy specimen with incredible self confidence and charm. And don't get me wrong, I'd love to let you continue to think of me in such a way. But the truth is that I am carrying some extra weight around my midsection, my hair is falling off the back of my head, and I am anything but charming. Needless to say a little self improvement is required.

     So "The Boss" and I have decided to have a weight loss contest. If she reaches her goal weight by our anniversary, I must find a way to buy her the diamond ring pictured here. We saw this ring on a commercial 8 or 9 years ago so I've had plenty of time to prepare, (but of course I have not.) Here's the best part. If I reach my goal weight by the same date, I am to receive the highly coveted Canon T1i. This camera is amazing, it is expensive too, but I will never ever have to buy a camera again once I have this beauty in my hands.

     So the stage has been set. The games have begun. We started this battle about a week or two ago. There is just one problem with the whole deal. All either one of us has done since the starters gun went off is eat. Damn that Santa for putting so much chocolate in my stocking. I mean what does he care? His fat ass is already famous and he can just get some overworked dwarf in his sweat shop to bang out a camera for him on a whim.

     We are not focused at all, but in our defense, it isn't our fault that food is so damn delicious. Time is running out and I have a long way to go. Today is the day that I will begin my journey to a leaner, meaner me. As soon as I finish this cookie that my daughter just handed me. It's chocolate chip, how could I say no? Hey, if they made a broccoli cookie that tasted just as good I would be eating one. Wish me luck.

2010-01-09T12:22:00.000-08:00

     So for the last few years there has been a homeless couple who have been dawning their please help me signs at the signal down by the freeway not too far from where we live. I'm guessing it has been at least to some degree a pretty lucrative location otherwise, why would they continue to stay there?

     My issue is this. The woman seems to have a little trouble with controlled substances, or maybe I am the one who has the problem because I have never seen the person next to her with whom she seems to be having an in depth conversation with. Her husband or boyfriend or collegue or whoever that guy is across the street working the opposite corner is too far away to be able to hear her, so I know she isn't talking to him. I'm just saying, perhaps if she would pay a little more attention to her potential customers, she might make a lot more money and could possibly get herself out of this situation. Hey lady, I'll pay for some of your pity but you have to sell it to me instead of talking to "Mr. Perfectly Fabricated" over there.

     WOW! Look at me over here swinging my gavel around pretending to know more about her industry than she does. I wouldn't presume to let her tell me about labor scheduling, logistics, profit margins or the like. So why the Hell would she listen to me trying to tell her that she needs to improve on her sitting around on the median and having people give her money while she talks to an invisible buddy like a bunch of old southern drunken men sitting in a barber shop reflecting on the war in Korea and that twister that missed town by a "kwarter mal layast nawt."

     It's interesting how often times you see the same people day in and day out and yet, you really don't know anything about each other and probably never will. These two homeless cats might be the coolest people ever, and I will more than likely never give myself the opportunity to find out. I certainly wouldn't want to interupt her conversation, and he is over there on the other side of the road trying to make a living. I hope they make enough cash today to find a nice warm place to sleep.

I'm Not Done Yet

2010-01-08T09:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I wrote about taking a trip to Jalama Beach, which has sent me into a full blown camping withdrawl. Like a crack addict without his fix, I neeeed to do some camping and I need it now.

As a kid, every summer I would go on at least one camping trip with me family. Usually we would find ourselves in places like Mammoth, Yosemite, Sequoia, Kings Canyon or Big Bear. Places where you are submerged in nature and all of its beauty and hazards. In places like these, you have to hang your food from the trees or in solid steel lockers to avoid being robbed by the local bandits. 4 legged bandits who wont hesitate to remove your face from your skull in order to get that food. We saw the occasional bear and raccoons did get to our gear one time, but we never really had any run ins to write home about. I look back on those summer trips with the most fond memories.

My wife and her family did some camping of a much different style as she was growing up. They would do their camping up and down the California coast. So when we got married and talked about going on a camping trip, obviously we had very different ideas on how and where to go. Of course she had also done the mountain/wilderness camping as a kid as well, so it didn't take a whole lot of explanation when it came to planning our trip to Hurkey Creek. But when it came time to introduce me to beach camping, I didn't have a clue that it even existed let alone how to prepare or what to bring.

11 years, 1 trailer and a truck with which to pull said trailer later, we are beach camping professionals. After seing pictures of my mother and her very close encounter with a bear up in Mammoth(my parents are no longer campers, they stay in a condo when they go up there), I find that beach camping is a much more stress free environment. We have figured out the perfect balance of how much is too much food to bring and how much wont cut it. I usually live on beer and cashews truth be told.

      For you indoorsy, city types, I'm sorry to go all outdoorsy on you two days in a row. I thought yesterday's post would be enough but I wasn't done just yet. I think it's out of my system now and I will move on to something different tomorrow.

I Need A Vacation

2010-01-07T09:41:00.000-08:00

There is a place we love to go when it is time to just sit back and do nothing for a few days. Just about an hour or so north of Santa Barbara along California's central coast. This well hidden jewel of a getaway is just what the Dr. ordered after a long period of just not giving yourself a break.

Once you turn off of the main highway and onto Jalama Rd., the world seems to slow down, the stress seems to melt away and thoughts of business, obligations, and responsibilities cease to exist.

A 14 mile drive down this winding road leads you through some deep wooded areas with the occasional farm house with small crops of colorful flowers, vegetables and fruits ensuring that if you were to become stranded at least you would not starve to death. Never has 14 miles seemd so far a drive, and never has the first time visitor to this place had such a feeling of going in the wrong direction. Your surroundings are not what you would imagine in the brochure that you had printed in your own mind. "Have we made a wrong turn?" you might ask yourself. "This is clearly not where we are supposed to be." And then it happens. Your breathe is taken from you as you make one last long winding turn followed by two or three sharp hairpin turns and up to the top of a steep little hill.

The beautiful and majestic Pacific, such a contrast to what had been in front of you for the better part of 30 minutes and a confirmation that you have not made a wrong turn. Jalama Beach is the name of this place and it is one of my favorite places to be. Miles from the nearest Starbucks or red light at a traffic signal, this is a place where you can completely detach from reality. Not to mention the famous "Jalama Burger" at the little grill and general store is absolutely amazing. Though we haven't figured out what makes it so good. Perhaps it's the fact that there is not another burger joint around for 25 miles. Whatever the reason, I will tell you that you have not lived until you have had one of those burgers. I can taste it now as I sit here talking about it.

Having waited too long again to give ourselves a break, my wife and I are well overdue for a camping trip or a vacation of any type for that matter. We have been talking about a San Francisco trip, but I think I might have to throw in my vote for a delicious Jalama Burger and a week of just sitting on the beach.

Oh, and speaking of my wife, she has a new blog that is a must read. She is a funny and witty mom who has it more figured out than she gives herself credit for, which always makes for a good read. Check her out at http://notjustyermama.blogspot.com/

Now It's Time

2010-01-02T23:06:00.000-08:00

So the time has finally come. The Holidays are over so that can no longer be my excuse not to write.

I have read not one but two books to polish up on some of my writing skills, and two novels just for the hell of it and to steal some ideas from those who are already published.

On top of all of that, I actually sat through Julie & Julia with my wife tonight which came about in a most humorous fashion. We went out to dinner at a Teppan Grill for a friend's birthday tonight, (grilled scallops with the steamed rice, grilled vegetables, shrimp and a water with lemon, for those who are trying to paint a mental picture.) After that we decided to stop by the Red Box to rent a $1 movie. I made the mistake of letting the boss get out and choose the movie while I stayed in the car to keep an eye on the baby.

Have I learned nothing over the past 11 years? Hangover was the movie we had agreed on, but a plan B was never discussed in the event that Hangover wasn't available.

As it turns out, Hangover was not available and so there we were watching yet another chick flick as a result of my not thinking it through.

I was not aware that it was a movie about writing and getting published, or not getting published and then getting published. I hope I didn't wreck it for you. Anyway, I saw it as an omen and an inspiration to quit coming up with excuses not to write and to just get my ass in gear and do it.

I'm starting to outline exactly how the structure of the book is going to be, giving it a skeleton if you will. Actually having a plan written out is something I am not used to doing. That has never been my style. The guys at work call how we do it cowboy style. we shoot from the hip like gunslingers. We don't need a plan, we just make it happen. For years that has worked, and we're damn good too. But this new endeavor isn't going to work like that. I have to be focused, I have to be structured and stay on course. This is going to be one of the biggest challenges I have ever taken on and I can't wait another minute to get going.

Happy New Year!

Yodle Eh Heeee Hooo!

2009-12-29T09:40:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we find ourselves walking on unstable ground. Heart rate slightly elevated, we press on, leading our followers into potentially harmful territory. After a peroid of time, familiarity tends to mask the potential hazards and the elevated heart rate becomes the norm. The thought of searching for a more stable foundation on which to walk never seems to occur to us because we are so focused on tiptoeing through the self induced road blocks of our every day lives.

When the ground that we walk on finally gives way and begins to crumble around us, we have one of two choices to make as I see it. We can ignore it and keep going like a man who refuses to stop for directions, because admitting that a wrong turn has been made would be too harmful to his pride. Or, the second and much wiser decision would be to get ourselves and our followers out of the path of the avalanche before it completely consumes us all.

If what I am talking about sounds completely stupid, it is. If you think I am talking to you, I am. I wont pretend to have all of the answers or to even be wiser than anyone else. I include myself in this and my own poor decisions too. I just think that our time here on earth is so short that we should be doing everything we can possibly do to make sure that we live it to the fullest and spend as little time being unhappy or angry as we can.

We are never alone. There is always someone who is willing to help push us in the right direction. Our loving families, our loyal friends, trained professionals, you get the idea.

You are never as hopeless as you feel. You are much more powerful than you give yourself credit for. I even believe that to a certain degree you control your own destiny.

Get out there and create some happiness for yourself for crying out loud.

2009-12-27T21:17:00.000-08:00

     Before you call me an idiot, let it be known that for as long as I can remember, I have always worked the day after Christmas. That being said, and my ignorance now exposed, you will understand why I would willingly go with my wife to the mall on December 26th. What an idiot!

     Somehow in the midst of all of the parking lot chaos, I was able to score a spot right up front which gave us an overwhelming feeling of optimism. Maybe this isn't going to be so bad, I said as we slapped each other a victorious high five.

    The game plan was simple, we were to go get a couple of links taken out of my new watch, grab a quick bite to eat and then over to get an iced coffee. The problem with this simple plan was that everybody in the free world had the same simple plan. Well fed,, well caffeinated and well entrenched in this endless sea of shoppers clinging to what was left of the holiday atmosphere and racing to find the perfect sale item to spend their gift cards and Christmas loot on.

     In the middle of all of this pandemonium, I just had to pause a moment to observe the different types of people around me. I do this every time I am at the mall, which isn't very often I must tell you, but it always gives me a bit of a chuckle.

     You will always run into the group of 5 to 8 teenage boys who haven't quite grown into their ears yet but they think they are the coolest with their hats turned sideways and pants much too large. The heartbeat of  mall life clumps to the rhythm of high heels on the tile floors as the over dressed runway types sache much too seriously and full of themselves from one high end shop to the next. And then there is us, we are the stroller pushing, people watching, overbearing kiosk salesman avoiding people who never want to be there as much as we thought we did before we actually got there.

     What I have taken from this experience is that next year, we will wait a few days before venturing out into the retail world. I must admit, much to my friends' dismay I'm sure, it really wasn't all that bad.

Good Lord! That's Not Funny

2009-12-18T23:59:00.000-08:00

I bit my lip today, I bit it hard enough to bleed. Have you ever had to behave in a professional manner with the taste of blood in your mouth? No big deal right? We bite our lip, it hurts, we bleed a little and then we move on. But I did it a second time, in the exact same place. This time I blamed Jesus Christ, or so it seemed because His was the first name that came to mind and then escaped my mouth as I doubled over from the pain. This time the blood was too much to ignore and my lip began to swell to a point where it felt like I had a marble between my cheek and gums.

A few hours went by and I was so busy with my work that I had almost forgotten about the entire incident. That is until it happened a third time, I mean how could I avoid it? The inside of my lip was so swollen that it was resting between my teeth. I looked up to Heaven with that look of complete disbelief and feeling of betrayal. You know the look, it's the look that you get when you find your best friend and wife in bed together, that look you get when the cool kids at school leave a bag of flaming dog crap on your front porch and then ring the doorbell. The only word I could get to come out of my mouth as I was swallowing the blood was, "REALLY?!" That's what I said, but what I was thinking was, "That was completely uncalled for and it's totally not cool even if You are "THE LORD" or whatever." And then I thought to myself, can this guy read my mind? Is he going to be mad because I am mad at him? Am I still going to get presents on His birthday or did I just blow it? But no, I am the one bleeding here and in a considerable amount of discomfort, so I have a right to be upset. But then again wait. How could I be mad at Him for anything? How could I even mention something so trivial as my bleeding, swollen lip to a Guy who gave His own life so that my sins would be forgiven? Furthermore, the amount of pain that I was experiencing was laughable in comparison to that which he had endured. So, after wiping the tears that had welled up in the corners of my eyes (yeah, it really hurt that bad, it's a deep bite) and spitting the mouthful of blood into the trash can by my desk, (it was too much to swallow at this point) I laughed it off, looked up to Heaven again (why do we always assume that Heaven is directly above us?) and winked. Let's face it, I've had this coming for awhile now so it should come as no surprise that this would be my debt to pay.

You're a funny One Mr. Christ, and if I don't get a chance to talk to you before Friday, Happy Birthday..................................We're cool right?

Congratulations! Here's A Meatloaf

2009-12-17T09:32:00.000-08:00

On Monday night, I got a text message that simply said, "Baby Time." I would be willing to bet that everyone in the neighborhood got that same text at 8:40PM. Our neighbors and good friends Brian and Gina had their baby, their fourth baby actually, and as you can imagine, we are all so happy for them.

So is it a global tradition or just a local one here amongst our friends and family that when a new baby is born and has come home from the hospital, friends and neighbors prepare a meal for the family as a nice gesture and to lighten the load of the parents while they adjust to life with a new person in their home?

My wife, being on top of things like this as she tends to always be, decided last night to make a meatloaf and mashed potatoes with fresh green beans for our dear friends on their first night home from the hospital.

Everything was going according to plan, green beans cut and steaming on the stove, potatoes boiling in a big pot, and the meatloaf baking in the oven. What great friends and neighbors we are, wouldn't you agree?

There was just one problem, one that we didn't see coming, but when it did it hit us like a ton of bricks. The smell of this meal had begun to permeate throughout our entire home. It was a glorious aroma and we hadn't actually planned our own meal for the evening. There was no way that I was going to let this batch of culinary wizardry leave this house. Baby or no baby, this was my dinner, Gina and Brian would just have to fend for themselves on this night and that was that.

Not a sliver of guilt, zero remorse and a full belly. We are terrible neighbors and even worse friends, but when it comes to delicious flavor, good will always takes a back seat. Congratulations Brian and Gina!

Everything's Better With A Doughnut

2009-12-16T08:40:00.000-08:00

     Think about this for a second and you will see that it's true. Everything's better with a doughnut.

     The Titanic sunk to the bottom of the ocean. No matter how you say it or whether or not you knew someone who went down with the ship, this is an absolute tragedy. But to hear this news with a jelly doughnut in your face, while it's equally as tragic it's a lot more delicious.

     Stubbing your little toe on the leg of the coffee table is one of the worst household pains that one can experience without any real bodily damage, think about it and you'll know that I am telling the truth. It's the kind of pain that makes you want to use foul language and spit on your own carpet. Again, take the same scenario and insert a bear claw. There is no less pain and you still want to use foul language but you don't because you have a mouth full of deep fried flavor.

     You come home from work to find that your spouse has packed up and left you while you were gone. Oh Crap, I'm really going to miss her/him you'll say, and you will mean it. You totally didn't see that one coming and you feel like there's a hole in the pit of your stomach. Mmmm, well at least he/she didn't take this apple fritter. An obvious oversight that you will take advantage of and for just a moment the void in your soul will be filled.

     I am not a scientist nor a therapist, so if you try these methods and they fail to work for you, please do not try to hold me responsible.

     Today's topic was brought to you by a complete lack of anything useful or productive to say, but this cinnamon roll is fantastic.

Festival of Lights

2009-12-12T21:51:00.000-08:00

A couple of days ago, actually the same day as the great Griswaldian Christmas light fiasco that I spoke about yesterday, we went to enjoy The Festival of Lights. They do this every year at The Mission Inn, not far from where we live. This place holds a special place in our hearts for a few reasons. My wife and I stayed in the historic inn on our wedding night before flying off the next morning to go on our honeymoon. The Christmas light display that they manage to improve upon every year is truly a sight to behold. And this year, our 8 year old daughter had a chance to be a part of the festivities with her school choir.

There was a chill in the air, a chill by Californian standards anyhow. For those of you who actually get to experience the seasons and changes in climate and color of leaves, you can understand why we would be excited to pretend that winter was upon us. We didn't have to shovel snow or de-ice anything. I didn't have to put chains on my truck tires (thank God, because I don't have chains), but we did bring our jackets and I did duck into a gift shop to buy a beenie to keep my head warm. Talk about being at the right place at the right time. It was the beenie that I have pictured in my mind for a long time as being the perfect one for me. The right stripes, the right style, the right colors, and only $7. Glorious! I think I said it out loud, startling the girl behind the counter who hadn't noticed that I had ever even entered the store.

So there we were, celebrating our faux winter, listening to 3rd graders rocking to modern Christmas tunes, and taking in the spirit of the holiday season. It was perfect. We had such a good time as a family, doing what families do, regular families, Norman Rockwell families, families from the 50's who weren't in such a damn hurry all the time and actually took the time to enjoy themselves.

The "funk" that I have mentioned being in recently has suddenly vanished. I find myself in the mood that I have been trying to find for some weeks and it feels good.

It's funny and actually pretty amazing what 4 Christmas songs, a good $7 beenie, just hanging with family and 50 gazillion lights can do for a guy's outlook on things.

Hello Christmas Spirit.......Where the Hell have you been?!......Happy Holidays my friends.

The Tangled Webs She Weaves

2009-12-11T21:52:00.000-08:00

     Yesterday, I went outside to deck the house with Christmas lights. I'm a bit late to the show this year, but there's been a lot of the plate so cut me a little slack. The truth about me is that I am not very organized, but when it comes to my Christmas lights, I am as precise as a surgeon. The outdoor lights spend their 11 month slumber neatly placed in their own storage box in the garage. A place for every bulb and every bulb in its place because I would hate to have to deal with a tangled disaster next December.

     The box was open, I had my high powered staple gun ready to rock and the lights were well on their way to showtime. There is one shrub in front of the house where 2 sets of hands come in, well, handy I guess. The shrub is close to the side of the house so I usually stand on one side and hand the strand of lights to my wife on the other side and together we wrap the lights around said shrub.

     Things were going very well, that is until the wifey came around the shrub and handed me what looked like an electrical nightmare. This is not how I handed them to her between the wall and the green leaves less than 12 seconds ago. No, what I handed her 12 seconds ago was as well organized as a perfectly rolled up garden hose. The picture above is what was returned to me, delivered with a guilty and apologetic smile followed by an outburst of laughter from both of us. "What the Hell is this, Griswald?" I asked once I was able to breathe and the cramp in my side had given way to the tears rolling down my face. She had no explanation for what had happened and was saved by the ringing of her cell phone. Off she scampered, and there I stood alone with my bulbs and wires. THANKS HONEY! MErry christm....................

Aaaaay, I Had A Good Laugh

2009-12-07T22:00:00.000-08:00

     I've been in kind of a funk lately, a bad one that has lasted a bit longer than some of my funks in the past. I haven't had anything to laugh about really, or should I say that I have not seized the opportunity when it has presented itself because of this dark, unrelenting little funk.

     That all changed at 3:27 AM this morning when I rolled out of bed to get ready for work. Yeah, 3:27AM, I work at 5AM on Mondays, it's brutal for a night owl like myself. Anyway, at 3:27 this morning, I lumbered into the bathroom to brush my teeth and go pee,(not neccessarily in that order). That was when I looked in the mirror and realized that my hair had decided to style itself under the curtain of darkness while I slept. It looked as if all of the air in my head had begun to deflate from my left ear at an extremely high psi. All of my hair seemed to stand straight up from the left and then took a hard 45 degree turn to the right.  Keep in mind I am not by nature an early riser, so I happened to notice this anomaly with one eye closed and the other reluctant to function at such a ridiculous hour. But this was too good, I had to take the opportunity to crack myself up and I went for it with all of my heart.

     I struck the Fonzarellian pose, we all know the one, when he is in his office, aka the mens restroom at Al's Diner and he goes in with both hands to make the neccessary adjustments to his hair only to realize that, "Aaaaaayyyy", it's already perfect. I laughed out loud for a good couple of minutes, trying to stay as quiet as I could so to not wake up the wifey.

Sometimes it's the simple things isn't it? A much needed laugh and a good start to what turned out to be a pretty decent day.

Haunted By The Holiday Spirit

2009-12-02T23:10:00.000-08:00

So today, I got up early as planned. Wifey just about jumped out of her socks to see me out of bed so early on my day off, knowing that it is not my day to get up with the kids, which means getting our oldest off to school. How I was able to pull it off is a mystery, but I never question a good thing. See, I was up on time because we had planned the night before to go out this morning to get all of the Christmas shopping done. We shopped and shopped. And when we were done with that, we shopped some more. All the while I pretended to enjoy it. Target, BevMo (that was fun), Costco, Toy R Us, Baby's R Us. Truth is, I didn't care where we were or what we were doing, I just missed hanging out with my wife. Life has been so hectic with work and the kids and so on, that we seemed to have forgotten about each other lately. What a perfect day, just to be able to enjoy one another's company. Not to mention that 95% of the shopping is done.

We managed to get the Christmas tree all set up tonight too. Quite a festive turn of events considering that both of us have been so burried in our work and soccer games and school events and so on. And that's when it happened. The explosion of laughter that came from the area of this very computer was deafening. It seems that wifey had posted on Facebook that we had spent the day shopping together. Some of my friends have since caught wind of this info and are not very pleased about what I have done to the sacred bond of manhood. I have broken a cardinal rule, it's true. I did it knowing that the risk was great and that the chances of escaping without incident were slim. I was called out in public. A slight breeze picked up at the gallows confirming only that I would swing like a pendulum when the verdict was read and the execution was well, executed. I faught the good fight, I tried to plead my case. It was no good, I had put us all in a bad spot and surely justice had to be served. If I had done it, then there would be no doubt that the rest would be expected to do the same. The bond was broken, the circle of trust had been infiltrated by evil. I took my lumps, I paid the price, AND I ENJOYED EVERY MINUTE OF IT!!! Sorry guys, I'll see you at the poker game on Friday right?..........Guys?......Hello?...........Shit!

Blog About Nothing

2009-12-01T23:25:00.000-08:00

When you write a blog that pretty much talks about nothing, one would think that the bar is set pretty low, and the expectations would be even lower. Safe to assume right?

Day in and day out, I manage to get something posted on my little Seinfeldian blog about nothing in particular, with pictures that pertain to that nothing in particular in one way or another. For a while this has been a pretty successful approach, that is until a few days ago.

Ever since I decided to write that book, I have drawn a complete blank when it comes to writing anything at all. The quality of my blog about nothing in particular is beginning to decline, (I didn't think that could be possible), the pictures that pertain to my blog about nothing in particular don't seem to be having the same pop or relevance that they normally would. What is going on? Could it be that I have spooked myself with the thought of writing a book? Fear is a writer's worst enemy, Stephen King even said so himself. I have the ideas, I have them all lined up in my mind, that is until I sit in front of the keyboard. This is when my mind starts moving much faster than my fingers can type. The thoughts that seemed so clear to me 5 minutes ago start to look like sdpfwpwdtmprq erdgtwnrpgpwreutepgdnwerhgh as soon as I try to put anything down.

Does this happen to you? Is this just part of the writing process that I am not accustomed to? Please tell me that this will pass and that at the end of it these thoughts will flow freely to paper. Please tell me that this blog about nothing in particular will continue to be fun and that the groove will come back. Of course it will, this is ridiculous.

The book has a forward by the way. It's a full page now, which doesn't sound like much, I know. I have had to rewrite a few times just because I would think of better ways of saying what I wanted to say. I guess this is part of the process too.

Thanks for lending an ear. I will be back with better stuff soon, you can rest assured. Goodnight.

On Second Thought

2009-11-30T14:10:00.000-08:00

As annoyed as I often get with people, the thought never occured to me until today. A man was in my way and without saying anything directly to him, in fact, without saying anything at all, it seemed blatantly obvious, to me anyway, that I was trying to get by this man. How could you not notice? I am not walking from side to side behind you because this is fun for me. I am moving faster than you, and you need to let me walk by you. Anyway, the thought never occured to me as I was contemplating removing the contents from my nose and launching them at him with the highest velocity which can be generated from the middle finger or even the index finger depending on ones own personal methods, that on second hand, maybe I shouldn't. As much as I want to be as far away as possible from this cat, someone loves him with every fiber of their being. This guy means the world to someone despite that fact that I want him to trip on his untied shoe. It's funny how the mind works sometimes. I finally got by the old guy and just gave him a half smile and went along with my day. As it turns out, it's a lot easier being a nice guy than it is to get all fired up. Perhaps I should try this more often. No promises that it will work or that my new found attitude will last, but I will give it a try.

'Tis The Season

2009-11-26T02:13:00.000-08:00

Because I have signed a contract stating that I would not speak about my place of business in public, I wont tell you what company I work for, but I will give you a snapshot of what a day in the life of a sales manager for a huge retailer is like.

Let me preface this recap by telling you that I have two young daughters, so as you can imagine, the day starts pretty early around here.

Oh, I guess I should also mention, before I begin, that in order to survive in the fast paced world of big business, you must be able to weed out the worthless information and only process what is crucial to the needs of the business. All the while keeping a positive attitude and your stage presence at its peak. Afterall, 'Tis the season. So, without further ado, I give you, "My Process" with a holiday twist.

" Hey, can I get a discount on this? Did you check your email even though you just walked in 2 seconds ago? Hey John, I need a break. I know you have it, I buy it here all the time! (You're right, I've only worked here 11 fucking years. Of course you know my inventory better than I do.) I need your signature on this. John, I need a break. Can you help me with this? I need you to train all of your employees on this immediately, even though it is the day before Thanksgiving and we are getting our asses handed to us. Did you get those reviews done? I need you to cut your payroll even though you lost two of your high dollar employees this week. I know you just got here but how did you not miraculously know that I have asked for this to get done three times this morning? Hey John, I need a break. I'm sorry I was 45 minutes late. You guys usually call me when I'm late. (This one actually made me laugh, but only after the guy walked away.) Is this the complaint department? Just make it happen. Come see me in the office when you have a minute. (Shit! Now I need a break. I think I will go take my break since I've been here for 4 hours.) John, I need to go on my lunch. John, you have a phone call on line 1....and line 2. Do you work here? (No dumbass, I am wearing this name tag because I am the president of this company's fan club and I come in here to fix other people's fuckups just for the sport of it.) John, I need my last break."

This is a day in the life. It is a lot like juggling cats, I would imagine anyway. This is how it goes almost every day. This job is not for the squeemish or weak at heart. This job is never easy, and for some masochistic reason, we come back for more every day. We thrive on the adrenaline rush. We live for the challenge. We will be back on Friday to do it all over again. Until then, I'm taking my break.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

New Chapter

2009-11-23T17:47:00.000-08:00

     Through no fault of my own, and without provocation or request, I was surgically inserted into this world in the Autumn of 1973. As it turns out, I am the son of a Viet Nam veteran father from Omaha, Nebraska and a Danish immigrant mother, who were never meant to be together in the first place, and later, you will understand why this is actually a good thing.

     My friends in the blogosphere, the paragraph above is a rough draft first paragraph of the book I have decided to write titled, Fatherless To Fatherhood. Don't get me wrong, I've had a stepfather who is the most amazing man I have ever had the privilege to know, but I didn't always recognize that fact and I didn't always give him a fair chance. For the details of it all, I guess you will have to wait until I get it all down.

     The book will take you on a journey through a rough beginning, an amazing mother who gave her all to do it on her own, an absent father, and the promise to oneself to not let the cycle repeat itself.

     I am hoping that there are people out there who can relate to this story and how one chooses to deal with their circumstances. I will post a page here and there for input and constructive criticism and together I think we can make this project amazing.

6 Days

2009-11-20T22:14:00.000-08:00

My computer died. It completely died. I bought a new one, a really nice new one. Come to find out, I needed a new wireless adapter with my new computer. This means that I had to be without the internet for 6 days. During this 6 day period, all I could think of was that I needed to write something on my blog. What am I going to do? I have the internet on my phone. Maybe I can post from my phone. I wont be able to post pics but my followers will understand. That's it, I will post from my phone. It's genius! What? I can't post from my phone! There are people waiting for my post. I'm not an ego maniac or even close to it, but I know how it is when you are looking forward to reading a post and it doesn't come. A couple of my favorite bloggers don't post on the weekends and it drives me nuts.

All I want to do is scribble on my blog. I have so much to say and there is no internet connection in my house.

Suddenly my heart bleeds for people like Mark Twain, Thomas Jefferson, Ansel Adams, old Bill Shakespere, and Ben Franklin. The Hell they must have endured for all of those years. Waiting and waiting through sleepless nights and endless days for their internet connection to come up so that they could post on their blogs. For years they would wait only to meet their own fate before ever having the chance to post their pics, or read comments from their previous day's post.

6 days I waited until finally, I was back up and running. Last night, I sat in front of the keyboard and my new enormous monitor only to draw a complete blank. So much to say, so many thoughts that have built up over the last 6 days, what do I say first? Nothing.........Nothing at all. I went to sleep disappointed in myself for not having it all planned out. Do I talk about the holidays looming on the horizon? Do I talk about how my lack of any sort of relationship with my father has been poking the back of my mind lately? Do I talk about and post my friend's pictures which are completely amazing? So many options, so much anticipation, 6 days of wanting so badly to write only to come up with nothing? It's all there and I can't put it in any sort of order at the moment. I guess this post can be considered my, "Hi, I'm back" post, and tomorrow perhaps I will have it all sorted out.

As F8 Would Have It

2009-11-12T09:47:00.000-08:00

I took this photo a couple of years ago at the San Diego Wild Animal Park. This is the type of photo you take that you know you are never going to do anything with but feel obligated to take anyway because, how often are you this close to a lion without being dead?

And then it happened, yesterday sometime before noon in a Cleveland suburb, this picture was given a purpose.

A new friend of mine, who happens to be the author of the extremely popular, and one of my absolute favorite blogs f8hasit, decided to publicly praise my extremely unpopular by comparison blog, which caught me completely off guard. You might ask, "Why is this a bad thing, and how does the picture of the big cat tie into the whole situation?" First, it is not a bad thing at all. In fact, I am honored that someone of Nancy's writing caliber would take the time to read my blubbering, let alone take it a step further and give me an award for it. Second, the popularity that automatically comes with being associated with Nancy and her blog f8hasit gives you a sense of being on stage and having to perform on a much higher level. That lion, with its stoic posture and in control demeanor tells me one of two things. Either he knows that he is the undisputed king of the jungle, or he too was given recognition by the iconic f8hasit and feels compelled to perform at a much higher level.

One of the conditions of accepting this award was that I had to write a list of 5 of my current obsessions. So, here they are in no particular order.

1. I must climb that hill behind my house very soon because it taunts me and seemingly dares me to do it.

2. Writing a weekly column for some small, local fish wrap is something that I really want to do, and figuring out how to make that happen has taken up a lot of space in my mind lately.

3. Camping, (if you call living in a trailer with running water, heat, a toilet, shower and a king size bed camping) with my family is something I love to do and in fact we have at least two trips in the pipeline as we speak.

4. The Canon Rebel T1I camera is something that I have been obsessing on lately, but I can't get the boss to let me get one without a fight. I choose my battles wisely these days so the Nikon Coolpix will continue to do just fine.

5. Last and most definitely not least, it is football season my friends. Football season is my favorite time of year, so to answer your question Mr. Hank Williams Jr. Yes sir, I am always ready for some football.

Thank you very much Nancy. I hope to be able to keep you and my new found readers entertained for a long time to come.

Tit For Tat

2009-11-10T21:22:00.000-08:00

OK, so if you read my last post, you know that I just don't really care about a whole lot of incidental BS these days. But this one got me going for sure. Tonight, John Allen Muhammad was executed in Virginia because of his actions in the high profile case of the DC Sniper. So the man who killed so many people seemingly just for the sport of it is dead. Most people would say, "Tit For Tat, justice is served." While I think that this is just a terrible situation and that his death does not really solve anything, this is not why I bring up the topic tonight, because as I said, I really don't care.

    As I watched Larry King on CNN cover the story tonight while the execution was being carried out, I was troubled by what one of the victim's family members had to say. Keep in mind, my family member was not a victim so perhaps I am speaking out of turn but this is what completely blew me away. After Muhammad was dead, Larry asked the brother of one of the victims how he felt about the whole situation and made note of the fact that Muhammad left behind family, including his own children and how terrible this whole ordeal must be for them as well. Are you ready? This is what floored me. The victim's brother then says that his sister also left behind a family and children because of this senseless act and that he has absolutely no sympathy for Muhammad's family now that he is dead.

     Whether or not you believe that he deserved to die, whether or not you believe that justice has been served, how could you not have at least an ounce of sympathy for the children who have had to deal with the fact that their father has done something so horrific and that now he is dead?

     I'd like to believe that God would want me to hand my anger up to Him and to try to find at least in some small fashion some peace in my heart after all of the time that has passed since these terrible murders. Am I completely off track here? Do I not have the right to speak up until my daughter is dead? Or my mother? Or my wife? Could I find peace if I were in the same situation? I hope I never have to find out.

"Are You On Drugs?"

2009-11-08T20:19:00.000-08:00

The other night I went to my mom's house after work to collect my birthday card with a monetary gift enclosed (I'm an only child so yes, at 36 I still get birthday gifts from my mom), birthday dinner which consists of a curry gravy with white potatoes and Danish meatballs, and some nice conversation to top it all off.

I began to explain to my lovely mother as I am going to explain to you now, that I have reached a point in my life where I am decluttering. There are a lot of things that I just don't care about anymore. "What do you mean you don't care?", she says to me with a bewildered look on her face. "I don't know how to explain it." I said to her with a smile. There are things in life that people stress out about that really just don't matter. About a month ago I was one of those people. I stressed about work, I stressed about what people think of me, and finally something clicked and I said screw this. Life is way too short, I am 36 years old and I am going to start living my life in a stress free manner. At the time that I was trying to explain this to my mother, I couldn't come up with the right words that would make her understand exactly where I was coming from. So, she says to me half-jokingly and half concerned, "Are you on drugs?" We had a good laugh about it because she knows damn well that I am not on drugs but that I was obviously stumbling through my new found outlook on life. I don't have it all figured out and I'm not sure exactly where this is all coming from, but as long as I am having fun I guess I will just roll with it.

There are still moments when I have to fight off the old ways of getting annoyed about things and have to remind myself that I DON"T CARE! Don't get me wrong here, I do care about things, I care about my friends and family, I care about being productive at work, I care about being a good human being and a good father and husband, I just don't care about a lot of the incidentals that clutter up so much of our time.

To this point of my blog it has been like the ascent of the roller coaster ride. Now that you are on board and have reached the top and there is no turning back, I guess it's time to really start riding my mind. Do you have what it takes to raise your hands above your head or are you going to close your eyes and white knuckle the handrail in front of you? Either way, I don't care, as long as you enjoy the ride, do it however you like.

High On A Hill, It Calls To Me

2009-11-06T09:39:00.000-08:00

In April of 2000, my wife and I jumped on a quick flight from Ontario Airport to the airport in Oakland California to begin our honeymoon. Honeymoon in Oakland? The armpit of California? Why would you honeymoon in Oakland? There is only one correct answer to that question, which is that you would never honeymoon in Oakland California. As it turns out, you can't just fly from Southern California straight into San Francisco which happened to be our destination. I've never been able to figure out the reasoning behind making us fly into Oakland instead of just flying straight into SFO, although I have a theory that it has something to do with the rivalry between So. Cal and Northern California. They don't want us up there at all, but since they can't stop us from visiting at least they can make us have to go through Oakland first. That makes me think, maybe I will lobby for a South Central International Airport, not that LAX is any better I guess. I seem to have wandered off course here but the tone had to be set.

So, we play the game, we fly into Oakland knowing that a quick taxi jaunt over the Bay Bridge will remedy the situation. As the taxi circles around to start our journey across the bay, there it is in the distance, "high on a hill, it calls to me" (the lyrics of Tony Bennett, we all know where his heart is). The most beautiful skyline I have ever seen sprawled out in front of us. Coit Tower stands guard overlooking the bay, the Transamerica building stands in the center of it all making its point. There's Alcatraz, the stories that place could tell.

It's not long before we find ourselves at the hotel that we will call home for the next several days. To the rest of the world, it is the White Swan Inn, to us it is a little slice of Heaven. This is an old but elegant place with a bit of primitive charm. The wood floors creek beneath your feet, the elevator is a bit tempermental, but once you get the gate like door closed properly, it gets you where you need to be.

There we were, beginning our life as a young new family, and beginning our love affair with the city by the bay.

Once you get out onto the streets of San Francisco, your brain almost immediately goes into sensory overload. The sites, the sounds, the smells, some good and some not so good, this isn't a fairy tale so you need to know that not all of the smells are pleasant but they all add to the experience of life in the big city. The food in this town is just amazing to top it all off. We love to eat and we love it even more when the food is delicious. From Joe's Crab Shack, to Neptune's Palace, to the Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. and my personal favorite, The Grand Cafe, you just can't find a bad meal in San Francisco, at least I never did.

Why do I bring up this topic today, almost 10 years after the fact? I bring it up because we miss our time there. We have been talking about maybe going back there sometime soon. With the holidays on the way and our work schedules being what they are, we will have to wait a little bit longer but posting pictures and talking about it might just hold me over for just a minute or two.

What The Hell Am I Doing Here?

2009-11-04T23:50:00.000-08:00

After a long day of trying to make unrealistic corporate dreams come true, I found myself without a topic worth writing about, nor the energy with which to even try to come up with something.

Then it came to me, not like an epiphany but more in the form of an email from an old friend. An old friend who is a writer, a real writer with a real writing job and a real writing husband who also has a real writing job. Anyway, in this email she says that she loves this little blog of mine and at that moment, I thought to myself, or maybe I said it out loud, either way it doesn't matter, "What the Hell am I doing here?"

I started this blog not ever thinking that anyone would read it even once let alone follow it or comment on whatever rubbish happens to spray out of my head on any given day. I'll be honest, I did do a little self promoting on FB and by way of a little word of mouth, but even then the thought of people actually reading this never really occurred to me. Call it stage fright or lack of confidence in my skills. My wife is the same way. She is an artist, a good one too, who doesn't like her own work or think that it is as good as it really is. Is that normal? Besides, what's the big deal? I'm not selling a product here. I didn't serve you a heaping plate of nachos with a long hair in it or anything. It's just a blog, chill out fat boy!

In a way it feels like a secret is exposed. Not a huge life altering, Michael Vick dog fighting ring, Heidi Fleiss prostitution ring, Monica Lewinski Oval Office kind of secret. No, this is more of an I like to stack 8 or 9 cookies with a glass of milk and mow them down when no one else is looking, pick that flake at the edge of my nostril when I think I am out of the view of other motorists, wear these jeans twice without washing them kind of secret.

I LIKE TO WRITE! I LIKE IT A LOT! I MAY OR MAY NOT BE ANY GOOD AT IT BUT I AM GOING TO CONTINUE TO WRITE UNTIL I NO LONGER WANT TO WRITE! That my friends, was liberating.

Listen, I'm not sure why you people have decided to read this blog but I do know that I am glad you are here. So far it's been a lot of fun and I hope at the very least we can all have a few laughs and share some stories.

For a guy who wasn't sure what the heck was going to happen when I sat in front of the keyboard tonight, I sure did spill a lot of ink didn't I?

Covert Operation

2009-11-03T08:33:00.000-08:00

Last night at around 11:57PM under the cover of darkness, I decided to conduct a highly sophisticated and not easily executed covert operation. I was going to sneak into my 36th birthday hopefully without being noticed and without incident. Much to my dismay and promptly at 12:00AM, like an angry parent waiting up for a disobedient child to get home long after the previously agreed upon curfew, there it was waiting for me. There would be no sneaking around, and there would be no getting away with one. I was caught and the punishment was to be steep. Violently, my 35 was taken from me and all that was left in the end was the body of a 36 year old man. Tattered and torn, I lumbered upstairs and off to bed to sleep off this traumatic event. I woke up this morning only to realize that the first morning of 36 feels a lot like the last morning of 35. This might not be so bad, I might actually survive this and come out on the other side smelling like a rose. An old rose with pedals falling to the soil below perhaps, but fragrant and colorful none the less. Today, I will spend the day with my family at Disneyland. It's "The Place" (that's what we call it), the place where we can go as a family to get away from the ho hum and where everything is perfect. Today, I will use "The Place" as neutral territory, a safe and familiar place to be to get acquainted with my new 36 and hopefully we can come to an understanding that is beneficial to us both. I wont lie, I am a bit skeptical and apprehensive, but willing to give it a try.

Today's photo is a picture of the smoke created by my birthday cake as seen by the nice folks up at the International Space Station. Leave it to NASA to be on top of it huh?

Just Listen

2009-11-01T22:35:00.000-08:00

Here, in my little blog that wishes it could, I tend to do a lot of talking about nothing. In the real world believe it or not, I am a man of very few words. I spend a lot of time observing what is going on around me and laughing about it. Have you ever consciously taken the opportunity to shut up and just listen to what people say when they don't know that others are listening? There's the know it all, " I told them but they wont listen to me." The do it all, "I have to do everything around here and the rest of them don't do shit." This one cracks me up the most because we all think that we do more than everyone else and yet there is still so much to do. If we all do it all then why the Hell isn't it done? The badass, "They know not to mess with me because I will go off!" Yep, you're a 59 year old woman with a bad haircut and an obvious limp. "They" obviously know when "They" are outmatched. The road rager (this one is me 100%) " Dammit, why are you sitting in my blind spot? Get off the damn phone idiot! You should know that I want to get over even though my signal isn't on!" The rich guy's wife, "....................................." she doesn't say anything because she doesn't have to, and how dare you look at her even though she is wearing next to nothing and her fake rack is defying gravity. Get over yourself Barbie, you're not that big a deal. The do gooder, "Here, let me give you a hand with that." Why is this guy so underappreciated and often considered annoying? Is it just me?

There are so many different kinds of people, and yet we are all so much alike. Take a few minutes in the mall or the grocery store or amusement park the next time you think about it and just watch and listen to what is going on around you. I promise you will have a good laugh and probably something good to write about.

Truth or Chocolate?

2009-10-31T13:43:00.000-07:00

2000 years ago what we know as Ireland, England and northern France today, was the Celtic Empire. It was believed that the 1st day of November marked the end of the harvest and the last days of Summer. Soon would come the cold days of winter. Samhain, believed to be the God of Death would allow on this one day of the year, all of the souls of those who had left the earth, to return to their homes. This of course terrified the people who would run into the fields to stear clear of the ghosts and goblins that were sure to inhabit their homes and town centers and mini malls and Starbucks.

Now, somehow throughout the course of the 2000 years that have gone by, the tradition has been distorted and reshaped into something that..................well something that scores me a lot of chocolate. So, get those kids into their Hannah Montana costumes and send them out there into the world with their pillow cases and well versed chants about smelling feet which apparently makes them hungry, hungry for only something good to eat. Get out there and make Samhain proud........ I can't wait to do quality control on the chocolate goods...........What? You have to run several tests to make sure that the candy is good. Right? HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Research Is Complete And Now It's Time To Do

2009-10-29T09:18:00.000-07:00

     A few days ago I posted a similar picture brought to you by the nice folks over at Google Earth of this hill that I all of a sudden after 4 years of living in my house at the base of, feel compelled to climb. Today, I revisit this topic because this is how important it has become.

     Yesterday, I was hanging out with a dear friend of mine who grew up under the shadow of this hill. I told him that I was going to climb to the summit just to prove to myself that I can do it and to make the damn thing quit taunting me every time I am out and about in town. There is nowhere in town that I can go to be out of its sight. A quick moment passes with no response, but then he says to me with I smile, "I've done it. I've done it a handful of times and it is awesome up there. Just do yourself a favor and don't go up there on a day where there is even the slightest hint of a breeze down here. Because if there is a breeze down here it is wicked windy up there."   At this point we get into my truck, (it's a dark blue GMC Sierra with custom wheels, a billet grill and a snug top on the back for those who are trying to keep the paint of their mental picture fresh) and drive around the neighborhood and up into the hills to the east of this rocky peak to get a look from all angles.

     So here we are, the research is complete, I have exploited every angle that Google Earth has to offer, I have gone into the field to see it with the naked eye. The time for preparing and just talking about it have faded into the shadows. Now....... Now is the time to start doing. When I say now, I don't actually mean right this minute, I do have to go to work today. I say now as in, now it's a plan and not just an idea. I am going to invite my friend Mark to join me for a number of reasons. He is an extreme outdoorsman, he has a new Canon EOS T1I that will shoot this endeavor in full 1080p, and I think that he would enjoy this just as much as I will.

     Will you stay tuned to see the real life pictures taken from the peak? Do you think I can do this? Do I think I can do it? Let's just go for it!

A Farewell To Greatness

2009-10-28T09:16:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has just turned off the TOO MUCH INFORMATION filter and would like to warn you that what you are about to read is not going to be pretty.

I'm 35. I'm 35 for one more week and the gravity of 36 is beginning to pull things in the wrong direction. The hair on my head has statred its migration to my upper and middle back. I have told the girl who cuts my hair (less frequently than she used to I might add) that when the flesh yarmulke becomes the focal point of my dome, she needs to just pull out the clippers without warning and just shave my head. This started out as a joke but I fear that the day when it becomes a reality is much closer than I had anticipated.

I remember being a strong 16 year old kid painting the trim on my Mom's friend's house. With one foot on the roof the ladder slipped out from under me and SPLAT! Flat on my back on the driveway from about 10 feet up. I remember laying there for a moment wondering if I was dead or if I had actually just defied the laws of physics. Nothing hurt, nothing seemed out of place. I slowly rose to my feet, checked to see if there was blood pouring from any of my orifices.... Nope, all good. I looked at the pavement on the driveway and asked it, "Are you ok?" I was unstoppable and it was awesome.

At 35, I wake up in the morning to the screaming of a stiff lower back that takes at least 30 minutes to cooperate. My Achilles tendons, the ones that are supposed to give me the spring in my step act like bungy coards that are stretched to their limits and leave me walking like Frankenstein down the stairs to get the kid off to school.

At 35 my eyelids are starting to hang over themselves to the point where I can see them in my line of vision. They are drooping from the top down like a pair of socks that have lost their elastic.

At 35, you start to remember all of the little comments you used to hear your grandparents make about their age and you begin to realize that these comments are not too far away from coming out of your mouth too. Some may say that they age like a fine wine and to them I communicate the only sign language that I can remember. I tend to be aging like a fine cheese. No, not a sharp cheddar or muenster or even a tasty brie. No, I am aging like one of those Danish cheeses that you can smell from a mile away. It stinks to think about not being unstoppable anymore. The time has come to bid a fond farewell to the greatness of my younger years. Now, I will take things just a little slower and maybe see more of life instead of rushing through with reckless abandon. I know what you're thinking. 36 is not old, and you're right, but 36 is older than I want to be. There is no evidence of the kid who used to live in this body and I think that is where the struggle lies.

So, at 35 and 358 days I come to grips with the fact that there is nothing that I can do to stop the decomposition of my youth, so I might as well look in the mirror, point and laugh at the guy I see and keep on keepin' on.

WHAT ELSE CAN YOU DO ABOUT IT?

The Muck And Mire

2009-10-27T10:32:00.000-07:00

This photo was taken from my window seat on an Alaska Airlines flight on our way home from Seattle.

When I looked down on the Emerald City from this perspective, I was reminded of of how life can often be a lot like looking at a Van Gogh painting at less than arm's length. As we wade in the muck and mire of our every day routine and focus on the individual brush strokes of the world we live in, we have to remember to take a few steps back (or in this case up) to get a good look at the big picture. Every time I look at this pic, I think about how small I am in the overall scheme of things and how even smaller the things that we worry about are despite how huge they might seem when we are knee deep in it. Take a step back, breathe in some fresh air, take it all in and get over yourself every once in a while.

I see a pattern forming here in my last couple of posts, and all signs are pointing to the need for a vacation. The boss and I are planning a trip or two in the next couple of months. Perhaps a trip to San Francisco with the kids followed by a little winter (if you call what we have in So. Cal. Winter) camping (and what I mean by camping is camping in a trailer with a heater and hot running water with a shower and a king size bed). Until then , my self motivating posts will continue to hold me over until we really get the chance to decompress. I always seem to wait too long between vacations and let myself get to the point of extreme burnout. How foolish is that?

Never Wonder

2009-10-26T09:47:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, I decided to actually LIVE my life. Nothing drastic, no affairs, no new sports cars, no Hair Club for Men. Just live life like I want to. Let's be realistic though, I am a married man with two young daughters, so to rephrase, I am going to live my life like I want to with frequent stops to compromise. Because let's face it, little girls aren't always going to like my ideas.

My new found liberation has started with small steps. For instance, I have been trying a lot of different foods that you don't find on a lot of mainstream menus. I had cow tongue tacos not too long ago and let me tell you , once you get past the fact that it looks like cubed cow tongue, it is absolutely delicious. I tried cabeza (cow head) tacos as well. I guess what that is is just the muscle tissue around the skull of the cow. Equally as delicious and equally as disturbing as the tongue tacos. I tried pickeled herring the other day too. That tastes exactly how you think it would taste, not delicious but not horrible either. I wont be rushing to Costco to buy the 10 gallon jar of it any time soon. Next will be menudo. My friends laugh at me because I have been talking about it for months and still haven't done it. Why do these things? I want to do these things so that I can say that I did these things. I never want to wonder what something is like as long as I have the ability to find out on my own.

     My latest endeavor is this hill back behind my house. Lately, when I pull out of the driveway, this hill seems to stare down at me as if to be challenging me. I see you standing there with your tall vertical peak and I don't think you know who you're dealing with. You are no Everest that's for sure. You are a miniscule 1600 feet and I will stand on your summit one day soon.

     So many of us are living just to work. We go to work, we come home to eat and sleep just to go back to work the next day. What are we ants? Are we bees? This just seems like such an incredible waste of what could potentially be an amazing existence. I'm not saying we all need to quit our jobs and meander through life without any cares or responsibilities (but that would be cool right?). What I am saying is that if we change our herd mentality and we work to live instead of live to work, we might have a lot more fun.

     I challenge you my friends, to get out there and LIVE your lives, really LIVE it. Never wonder what could have been when instead you can say, "remember when?"

I Am Not Who I Am

2009-10-25T00:45:00.000-07:00

I am the nice guy. I am the Teddy Bear. I am the guy you come to if you're looking for a good laugh. I am the compassionate one. I am the guy who will get it done and get it done right the first time, or at least delegate it to the right people who will get it done right the first time. I AM WRONG ABOUT ALL OF THE ABOVE!

I am a manager for a large company, and I manage a lot of people on any given day. Some of these people I know very well and they know me to be the guy who I have described above. Some of the people don't know me very well, which is where the heart of this post beats like a tympany.

There is a woman who has worked in my building for less than a year or a year at the very most. Other than the occasional smile and or obligatory "hello", we really don't know each other at all. The other day, she happened to be near me while I was joking and laughing with one of my subordinates. I saw her look at me and then double take as if I had a booger on my cheek or something. So, I say to her with a lingering smile still hanging on my face, "What's up?" Her response was that she hadn't ever seen my teeth, she had never seen me smile and that to her I have always seemed so stoic and intimidating. Stoic?..............Stoic? I have never in all of my life been refered to as stoic. Intimidating perhaps, but never stoic. So, with my quick wit, forked tongue and newly discovered stoic intimidation, I looked her straight in the eye and said,"When you say stoic, do you mean stoic like I am as solid as a rock and an unwavering pillar of this organization, or do you mean stoic like my brain is an indifferent rock rattling around in my skull?" Needless to say we have laughed and joked about it every day since and she seems to be a lot more comfortable around me than she did before.

What I have taken from this unintended misrepresentation of my own identity is that, you are not who you are, you are who other people perceive you to be. Whether they are wrong about you or not, that's who you are to them. If you look at it that way, does it change the way you conduct yourself or do you just keep being who you perceive yourself to be?

There's no place like, "My Process".

If I Only Knew How To Ask

2009-10-23T10:38:00.000-07:00

My wife took this photo of our daughter and her Grandmother a few months ago, and when I saw it, I couldn't help but wonder what could have been going through their minds as they sat there together.

" I see depths of wisdom in your eyes, a wisdom that can only come from a long life lived. I see stories both told and untold, they are written on your face. I wish that you would tell me those stories, and I wish that you would share your wisdom with me. I wish that you would tell me what life has in store for me. If I only knew how to ask."

"Sweet child, I see a world of opportunity and a world of dreams laid out before you. I hope that you will chase those dreams and seize every opportunity that comes your way. I hope that you will share your dreams with me, and I hope that we can share our stories. I hope you will know that I am here for you no matter what you may need. You don't even have to ask."

We tend to get so wrapped up in the hustle and bustle of every day life and sometimes lose sight of what really matters. I wrote this post today not only to share this great picture, but to reel myself back in towards what is important, my family. This is how I keep my job from consuming me. This is "My Process."

Welcomed Idleness

2009-10-22T00:38:00.000-07:00

Tonight, as I sat at my daughter's soccer practice going over the mental checklist of things that I had planned on or at least said that I was planning on doing today, I realized, with a guilt free smile on my face, not really caring who might see me smiling to myself, that I hadn't accomplished a damn thing all day. You see where I'm going here don't ya? Aside from having lunch at my favorite Mexican joint, messing around on the computer, and sitting for an hour and a half watching my daughter play soccer, I never intended to get anything done today in the first place. Great Caesar's ghost, that burrito was everything I wanted it to be and then some. How do you make a perfect burrito every time? Perhaps I shouldn't question a good thing. Today was my day off , and for the first time in a long long time, I was actually able to have a day with zero obligations. Quite honestly, I had forgotten what it felt like to have a day where there was nothing that had to be done, where there were no phone calls that had to be made, and where life didn't toss me a curveball. So, as I sat on the sidelines of that soccer field on this beautiful Southern California evening in my little beach chair, watching the sun set over the hills to my west, locking my fingers together behind my head as I leaned back smiling because I had pulled it off for once. I quickly snapped back to reality and realized that I am going to miss my new friend, "Idleness". It was a relationship that was never meant to be in the first place I suppose, but we will always have this one day to look back on fondly. Back to the loud, fast paced world of Corporate America and parenthood first thing tomorrow morning. Sometimes it's the simple things in life that can bring us the most joy........Isn't it?

Riding The Wave of Parenthood

2009-10-19T22:01:00.000-07:00

     When I originally took this photo, I didn't know why I felt so compelled to do so, but subconsciously must have known that it would one day serve a purpose. As it turns out, that purpose ended up being this little blog with 3 followers, none of whom really give a damn about what some stranger from California has to say.

     Being the father of two young girls and the husband of a beautiful wife, I find myself grossly outnumbered in almost every circumstance. It often feels as though the uterine walls are closing in around me and there is no chance of escape. As one can imagine, living in a house full of girls, a man has to grow accustomed to the sound of crying either up close or in the next room almost at all times. Trying to find commom ground between an 8 year old girl and a 35 year old man is always a challenge. Wanting to watch the game, drink beer and scratch myself in inappropriate places will never be a popular decision in this house and can only be done when the girls are out doing whatever the girls go out to do.

     Being the father of two young girls and the husband of a beautiful wife, I find myself loved unconditionally no matter what the circumstance. It often feels as if that love grows every day and that there is no chance of ever being alone. As one can imagine, living in a house full of girls, a man has to grow accustomed to the sound of laughter and singing either up close or in the next room almost at all times. When common ground is found between an 8 year old girl and a 35 year old man, it makes it all worth it. All of a sudden, watching the game, drinking beer and scratching myself in inappropriate places doesn't seem as important as it used to.

     This is the wave of parenthood, and for as long or as short as it lasts, shouldn't we enjoy the ride?

The Week In Review. It's All A Blurrrrr

2009-10-16T22:36:00.000-07:00

It was a busy week. Worked 6 days straight, didn't sleep much, rain one day, 90 degrees the next, boy flew away in a helium balloon and then he didn't fly away in a helium balloon, 2 So. Cal teams in the playoffs, cat left footprints on my otherwise spotless truck, racist judge who claims not to be racist but doesn't like interracial marriages wouldn't marry an interracial couple (what a damn shame it's 2009 for the love of God), people die in sweat lodge, this long, blurred week is over and so is this looong run on sentence. Have a great weekend.

A Butthead No Longer

2009-10-09T09:28:00.000-07:00

66 days ago, I made the decision to stop smoking. I had tried several times before only to fail miserably. It took me a while to figure out how I have been able to succeed so much easier this time and thought I'd share what has changed my mindset completely. On days 7 & 8 of this mission to live smoke free, I felt like a crack addict, (or at least what Hollywood has portrayed a crack addict to be) all curled up and miserable. I tried to give myself any and every possible excuse to light up. It was at that point when I realized what this journey was going to be all about. When you quit smoking, there is no finish line, no one is going to be there to cheer you on, trumpets are not going to blare and a flock of doves will not circle above to honor your success. The only reward is going to be a healthier life and the pride you take in knowing that you have been able to defeat a very difficult habit to break. Don't get me wrong, I don't consider myself out of the woods by any means here at the 66 day mark, but I am standing strong and I have the right attitude this time. I wake up every morning and tell myself, "You are a butthead no longer."

A Little Justice

2009-10-09T01:05:00.000-07:00

So, today I saw a Lamborghini get pulled over by the Highway Patrol. I don't know the driver of the car, and I'm sure he's probably a nice enough guy, but as I drove by him I giggled a little. I giggled because in a way I felt like justice had been served. Not because this guy had been driving too fast or perhaps because the officer just wanted to get a closer look at the car. No, justice had been served for those of us who work our butts off and still don't have the means to be able to afford such a beautiful automobile. In the end, no harm done I suppose. I got a good laugh at the way my mind works and the driver of that car can afford to pay the fine. Welcome to, "My Process."