Monday, October 22, 2007

Hello Skinny Jeans

It has finally happened. I have surpassed the 30 lb mark in my quest for a new me. Ironically, I threw away all of my left over skinny jeans from college just last year. Damn the luck. I had to toss over 2/3 of my entire closet last weekend because they just didn't fit, 4 inches makes a huge difference. Oh well, life is all about sacrifice. Next time you see me I will be withered away to nothing...this anorexia really works. I know, it was tasteless...but I'm excited nonetheless to reach my goal. The "couch to 5k" plan is starting to pay off. Word.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Bionic Icon: LOVE - Sleep Number: NOT SO MUCH

With the constant prodding of Lindsay Wagner and her sumptuous TV commercial touting the dreamy nights possible with the magical Sleep Number bed, Cindy and I bought one just a shade over thirty days ago. While in the store, we thought we had died and gone to heaven. It was cozy and perfect. To our dreamy, star-gazed eyes it was coated in chocolate and saturated with pheromones. The sales pitch was excellent, nice and smooth…not too pushy, not too soft. We could have been swept off to La La Land at any moment and fell hook, line, and sinker. The ambiance was pleading for me to stay and enjoy a comfy air-filled power nap. After walking out with two Select Comfort pillows, an order for the Sleep Number 5000, and a magically “cooling” mattress pad, we were so stoked we could hardly stand it. Never again would our backs ache and good-bye dimply soft mattress, don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.

Fast forward a month: goodbye new bed. The dream was over. We had awakened to the cruel reality of life on the outside of the eyelid theatre. My Sleep Number never gave me the full satisfaction the price tag deserved. Looking back, I think we were both too sore and tired to make an intelligent decision. Lindsay took advantage of our sore backs and sleep deprived vulnerability. I gave it a fair opportunity to woo me, make me dream about hitting the sack, hop into bed with the giddy anticipation of a teenager on a first date. But alas, it was just OK. I could never really see it as more than a friend. For the money I think I should LOVE it and be unable to live without it. It is now perpetually stuck in the “friend” zone. Good try Lindsay. Although I will always love the original Bionic Woman, her buddy the Sleep Number is now just another face from the past. This week it went back to its boxy cocoon to await the next star-crossed lover seeking chocolate covered pheromones. Cindy said she was not sad to see it go; however, she did really like her setting and I think she just didn’t want to make me feel bad. I don’t. I justify it by not having to secure a second mortgage to pay for it and can sleep just as soundly on my new memory foam mattress from Sam’s for a fraction of the cost, which I might add, came with a cool plastic box…can you say that Sleep Number? I think not.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Dads In Charge...Scary Isn't It?

Well it finally arrived, the long planned girl trip to Branson for the weekend. Cindy and Julie left Truck (that’s what we call Michael) and I in charge with all three cherubs (Finley, Evelyn, and Grace) from 8am Friday morning to 7pm Sunday evening. Today, I am anxiously awaiting my trip to Phoenix! Nah, just kidding, it was fun and we all survived in tact without burning down the house or visiting the emergency room. It was much more tolerable because Truck and I joined forces. Three miniature human species units vs. two adults, there is strength in numbers people, remember that in battle!

We spent the weekend painting poster boards, playing soccer, coloring, trampoline jumping, grilling, swinging, climbing, sliding, riding bikes, and even found time for some Barbie’s, Lego's and Tinker Toys. 28 hours later on Saturday afternoon, while sitting exhausted and dazed on the back porch as chaos swirled about us, it was hard for us to understand how the mom’s keep from hitting the bottle by noon. If there is one thing I have learned over the few years I have had kids, it’s that the first two days of a single parent stint are like rebirth. It takes two fully chaotic days of re-learning the ropes before some semblance of normal activity and schedule inevitably takes over. By Saturday night, we were spent and so were the kids so we divided early to conquer the last day.

A typical streaming conversation from our weekend:

THEM: I want my mommy! When’s mommy coming home? How come we have to eat that? I don’t want eggs! I need more juice! I have to go potty RIGHT NOW! I’m sleepy! Can we have cake? I need a band-aid! I want to go to Hanky’s house! THAT’S MINE!

US: But we’re more fun! Not soon enough! That’s your only choice! Fine, just eat cereal! We’re out, drink water! YOU WILL HAVE TO WAIT until we are out of the front yard! Then lay down and close your eyes! Eat your hot dog first! It’s not bleeding, shake it off! He doesn’t want you there, he’s enjoying the quiet! Really it’s MINE, I paid for it!

Then as if I had not already bitten off more than a bite’s worth, I had to sub for Cindy in Finley’s Sunday school class as a helper. Whoa, talk about over stimulation! Getting them up early, fed, dressed, and to the church on time was the easy part. There were 19 precocious 3 year olds to contend with when I arrived. I had no idea how to help and it was obvious I was in over my head. Miss Monica, the ever patient Sunday school teacher, noticed the profuse sweat rolling off my forehead as I tried like mad to keep the little buggers contained and focused. It’s like herding cats into a dog pen and it was the longest 60 minutes in recent memory. It is true, like animals, kids can smell fear and use it to their advantage!

So, now it is over. Dusk on Sunday marked the return of our female pillars of strength. The weekend of fun had regretfully come to a close. Each time I think about how exciting it would be to become a stay-at-home dad, I will quickly remind myself of the past 59 hours/23 minutes and gleefully board that usually dreaded flight out on Monday morning! Cheers to the mommies…you have our respect but also our undying gratitude that you are home! THANK YOU BABY JESUS!

Music: Philosophy with Tempo

The Beatles have always been just another band from the past to me. Although they inspired a generation, they have never really been a favorite of mine. Yeah, I like the music, but I have never bought an album or had them streaming on my iPod. I went to see the film Across the Universe last week and suddenly it became clear to me why the catchy iconic songwriting has become legendary. It’s easy to see why they were so inspirational to the world when I finally took the time to listen to the words.

The film was scripted and presented from and by the lyrics of some of the most memorable and popular Beatles’ songs. It was a very interesting and modern take on life in the 60’s (well, as real as a musical can be) and I’m sure a realistic representation of an exotic acid trip. The plot was written around the very lyrics of a large number of songs and it was amazing to me that an entire film plot could be extracted from the words of one band’s recordings down to each and every character’s name.

I know this is a lame post. Without trying to sound like a snooty film critic or liberal philosopher, I must say I was actually inspired and it made me start thinking about more than just the beat when listening to my own generation of artists. It sounds really far out, but an entire lifetime of struggle, living, and emotion can be portrayed in bits and clips from some of my own favorite music. I guess we are drawn to the underlying meaning behind cryptic lyrics to seek solace and understanding in our own lives through the music we love. So now I have found meaning and influence in this film and the philosophy derived there from; however, the lyrics of the Beatles transcend generations and mean more today than perhaps no other time since their incarnation.

All you need is love as the circle of life moves us all like sands through the hourglass; and so are the days of our lives. Thus concludes this episode of Deep Thoughts, by Jack Handy. Stay tuned for VH1’s Save the Music.

Post Script: I have tried in vain to find it, but there is absolutely no meaning in the lyrics of Britney Spears. So the philosophy has some faults, tread lightly and skip to the next track!

Monday, October 1, 2007

Locksmith? Nah, Got It Thanks...

Last week I was driving a rented Nissan Frontier Crew Cab. Not a bad rental car, especially while tearing up on a construction site. Friday morning, as I am loading my gear to head to the airport for my journey home, I found a new wild side to my self I never knew existed.

I placed my suitcase in the backseat, backpack in the passenger seat, inserted the key in the ignition and started the truck. Not realizing the auto door locks engaged with the ignition (rather than engaging while shifting out of PARK like most normal cars in the US), I grabbed some trash from the console, got out of the truck, shut the door, and walked to a nearby trash bin. My stomach churned uncontrollably when I realized the door handle was not handling the door! In sheer terror, I darted to each of the four doors trying desperately to open each as if some magical flaw on the assembly line would have allowed just one door to remain unlocked. I stopped, assessed the situation. Looked at my watch, it was 7:15am. I had a 30 min drive to the airport, a 15 min shuttle ride from the rental car facility, a minimum 20 min wait in security, and 20 min prior to departure boarding time to stake my claim in group A. My flight was at 9:20am. Any other day, this scenario would have been a cake walk. Today it was hell. My first thought: BREAK THE WINDOW! No way, I couldn't do that...then common sense took back the wheel.

Luckily I had my phone in my pocket, I called National and their road-side assistance number (now strategically stored in my phone). After about 10 minutes on the phone, the agent finally reached a local locksmith who would be at my location in 20-30 minutes. “That is not going to work, I have to have him here in like 5 minutes”, I yelled at the call center dude. “Sorry man, it is what it is…I can’t drive him there”, the smug agent responded. I quickly shot back that we had to come up with plan B. “What else can we do?” He responded very matter-of-fact, “Break the window”. What? Did he just say what I think he said? There was validation to my initial thought after all! To break or not to break? I wrestled with the decision for exactly 3 seconds. Fine, I’ll do it...I mean I have no other option, right? There was no way I was taking a later flight! Note: later flight lands 2 hours after scheduled flight but the thought of playing barbaric criminal was clouding my judgment.

I was parked at the end of the hotel in direct view of several patrons shuffling in and out of the front entry. I grabbed a large cobble from a roof drain leader and waited for the optimum time when there were only a handful of people milling about in sight. I calculated my approach carefully. I would break the small half window on the rear passenger door, less glass. I took a deep breath, bowed up my chest and tapped on the glass with the dull cobble...my hand instantly bounced back as if I were hitting a tennis ball to a brick wall. Harder I tapped...nothing still...HARDER again. I started beating that tiny window with all the cautious strength I had, to no avail. It would not shatter. What the hell, is this thing armored? So I moved to the larger window on the rear passenger door. I tapped again, harder, then HARDER. Somewhere at the Marriott Courtyard I am sure they have my ridiculous attempt at grand theft auto on film. I was completely dumbfounded! The glass had the deflection of an airplane wing! Finally, giving it all I had, the tempered glass succumbed to the constant blows from the rock and BAM! It blew open like a burst balloon. When it shattered it exploded with the force of a hurricane and sent glass flying all over the cab. It blew inward all over the backseat, front seats, console, dash, and even blew outward covering me with tiny shards of tinted glass (not the best time for me to be wearing flip flops, I might add). I carefully knocked the shards off and emptied my shoes, climbed into the back and unlocked the doors.

By this time, I had attracted the attention of anyone in earshot. To them, I was just some maniacal crack head beating the shit out of some poor guy’s truck window to steal CD’s or loose change. As I started cleaning the glass off the driver’s seat, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a man walking toward me at a pretty good pace. I thought for a second about just driving away, but the thought of the potential police chase that would ensue deterred me. I rolled down my window as he asked “Dude, did you just break into that car?!” No, I'm waxing it! “Do you work here?” I asked back. He said he did and asked for some ID. I showed him my license and told him the story, of course my rental agreement is electronic and the paper tag you receive upon checkout has no personal info, luckily he just glanced at both. He told me that a woman came running into the lobby screaming about a man dressed in black breaking into a white truck. I was wearing a black shirt…so I laughed, he did not. I apologized for the shards left on his parking lot while he stood in disbelief unable to comprehend what had just happened. He didn't even crack a smile and so I went merrily on my way speeding off with my adrenaline high.

I made it in the nick of time even spending an extra 5 minutes filling out a report at the return center. The rental agents all looked at me like an escaped mental patient when I told them A) the window was broken and B) I broke it. "Why did you break it?" she asked sheepishly as she handed over my receipt. "Your people told me too", and with that I bounced out the door. We all have our priorities and mine was not missing that 9:20 flight! So now I can add yet another valuable skill to my bag of tricks. Just call me next time you lock your keys in your car, I know what to do; however, I offer this word of caution: breaking into a truck via the rear passenger window is much more difficult than it appears on TV. Good thing I didn’t try the old towel-around-the-elbow trick, I would have certainly landed in the ER!

Adios Summer

Today is the first day of October, the month that usually starts a rapid descent into wintry holiday bliss. My two favorite seasons have long been fall and spring for the simple reason of their transitional existence. Long hot summer gives way to winter by means of autumn. Cold winter nights slowly succumb to warmth by means of spring. And so it goes, year after year. This year, I am less jubilant at the onset of fall. I woke up this morning thinking about the three months that lie ahead and how quickly they seem to slip by until we are bundled up in snow covered yards with brown grass and leafless trees. The only signs of life will be the few evergreen shrubs in front of our Stoney Creek abode. Halloween, which has already begun, quickly turns to Thanksgiving and before we have our turkey and bountiful cornucopia the aisles at Target are full of Christmas décor. The seasons get longer and longer in a time period that allows for no more time. We wander in a daze for three months trying to remember which holiday is chronologically next while retail invokes our holiday spirit with commercial goods for holiday’s on-deck.

So goodbye summer, I have enjoyed my tan and the blistering heat of the Arizona desert. I have enjoyed my patio time with my buddy Truck and the kegerator always delivering ice cold refreshment. Goodbye lawnmower, for I am not sad to see you winterized, but will miss the fruits of your labor. Sitting in the creek at the camp will be hard to do when the water is frozen. The lush deciduous foliage will soon fade to a dreary brown haze covered by the occasional snow. For some reason, “Hazy Shade of Winter” is playing in my head. Ah, the Bangles, what would we have done without them? With just weeks before the first frost, I am clinging to the last breath of the first summer I have enjoyed in a very long time.

With cautious trepidation, I am hoping to fall in love all over again with each season of the upcoming year. Maybe I will burn some of this nostalgic energy on picking out my Halloween costume, which will certainly propel me into the bliss of autumn. So peace out my dear friend summer, thanks for the memories, cannot wait to meet you back here again next year.