Happy Birthday to Me

This was a birthday that I'll never forget.  At the exact minute that I turned 36...at precisely 9:33 a.m....I was flushing a dead lizard down the toilet.  The very next moment, my lovely wife burst through the door and wished me a happy birthday.  Needless to say, I had a very strange range of emotions at that moment.

Break from Reality Anniversary - Day 11

We woke up today and something had changed.  Our hearts were no longer into the trip.  We missed the familiarity of home, the convenience of a kitchen to cook when we wanted, and shampoo that didn’t come in little bottles.  We decided to head to Devil’s Den State Park for the day, and then cut the trip short and make the drive back to Flower Mound, TX.

We only hiked one trail, the Devil’s Den Trail, being as that is what the park is named for and all.  The scenery was beautiful, but it was a very challenging trail.  If you don’t like steps, then this is not the trail for you.  Also, I can’t say that it was all that peaceful and calm, considering that we started the trail at the same time that two school buses pulled up and unloaded sixty 8-year olds intent on hiking the same trail.  Their shrill voices echoed off the rock walls of the ravine, each one louder than the last as if in a contest to outtalk each other.  This is bat hibernation season, but I don’t think they could get much sleep with that racket going on!

We then drove the five hours back home and found the place much the same as we left it…square and cozy.  I’m off to do laundry.  This is me…signing off.

Break from Reality Anniversary - Day 10

Today was another travel day; this time from Petit Jean State Park to Devil’s Den State Park for the last leg of our journey.  It was a little warm today, so instead of heading to the park, we decided to visit Fort Smith, AR.  On a recommendation from our friend Scott, we went down to the River Walk at the Fort Smith Historic Site.  Apparently, back in the 1800s Fort Smith was known, of all things, for its hanging executions.  They have a whole museum dedicated to the incarceration and hanging of famous criminals from the area.  In an effort to “celebrate” this morbid historical feat, they have a replica gallows built on the grounds, complete with trap doors and everything.  While viewing the gallows with the fascination of a car accident, I was falsely accused of being a turd by my wife and forced to hang for my crimes.  It was all in good fun until she left me hanging there to go off and take pictures of the prison wagon.

The River Walk was a beautiful windy path along the banks of the Arkansas River.  At various points along the path, there were signs commemorating the events leading up to and following the Trail of Tears.  It was sad to read about how the Native Americans were coerced by the government into debt and then forced to sell their land to pay off what they “owed.”

We also visited another local favorite, Ms. Laura’s House of Prostitution, now a historical monument and visitor’s center.  I walked inside, covering my face in shame, hoping that nobody would recognize me.

Break from Reality Anniversary - Day 9

Who says God doesn’t read my blog?!  Only crazy people, that’s who!  We woke up this morning to a torrential downpour raging outside…the forerunner of the incoming cold front that is sliding across the state.  Imposing black skies, rumbling thunder, and massive raindrops were the players in the drama unfolding outside. (Which really sucks when you’re trying to sleep in for a change!)  In addition to all of this, the temperature had also dropped 20 degrees over night!  I’m so glad I brought that ONE pair of long pants.  I guess I’ll be wearing them for the rest of the trip.  It’s a good thing we’ll be outside, so at least they can air out the smell every day.

So, let’s recap.  Much-needed rain?  Check.  Cooler temperatures?  Check.  Actually, this is eerily like our first anniversary here, which did exactly the same thing.  We still have fond memories of snuggling up together under a blanket on the porch in the morning, sipping our hot chocolate and watching the puffs coming from our mouths as our chocolate-warmed breath steamed the frigid air.  Maybe tomorrow morning.

So, already tired of almond butter sandwiches, beef jerky, and chocolate/oat protein bars for breakfast, I decided to go crazy and change it up.  So, I had almond butter sandwiches, beef jerky, and dried apricots instead!  We ate out on the porch again, swaying in our porch swing, watching the storm along with a myriad of God’s creatures who apparently also wanted out of the rain.  We had walking sticks, leaf insects, millipedes, spiders, mosquitoes, and slugs all living in harmony with us as we ate (to be completely honest, the mosquito wasn’t being harmonious, so he got squashed pretty much right off).  We also had a nice long chat with the woman in the cabin next door, who was from Houston, TX of all places.  (It should be noted that this woman gets a special place in my heart, because she not only asked what I did for a living, but continued to probe me for more details after I told her I was a software developer.  On top of that, she was just as interested in me as she was by my exotic, Greek wife…which is completely unheard of!)

We had to change cabins today, a side-effect of waiting until the last minute to decide where you want to spend your money…uh, I mean vacation.  So, we furiously packed our stuff, by which time the rain had stopped, and restuffed the car.  We then checked out…and then checked back in again…before heading over to Cedar Falls Overlook.  (At least the same woman did both parts.  It would have been strange if one woman checked us out, and then someone completely different had to check us back in again.)  We wanted to see if the overnight rain had had any effect on the Falls.  It hadn’t.  It’s going to take more rain than that apparently.

This was followed with a scenic lunch in the Mather Lodge restaurant before heading to Davies Bridge.  This was where we found our second gem of the trip.  While trying to get a better view of the bridge, we hiked a little bit of the Boy Scout trail.  This part of the trail was beautiful, but the gem we found was a local photographer who was hiking the trail from the opposite direction.  He was stopped for a smoking break, and he engaged us in conversation as we went by.  He proceeded to talk to us about the area, where the best views of the park were, where the best photographs of changing leaf color were, and how the Forest Rangers have been getting lazy about cleaning up the fallen trees in the creek (he seemed very passionate about this, that’s why I mention it).  We followed him back down the trail, so he could point out some amazing sites that we would have missed otherwise, like a cool rock overhang and a breathtaking waterfall nestled deep in the woods.

On our “gem’s” recommendation, we headed down the Red Bluff Drive, which takes you to several overlooks that look out over the surrounding forests and valleys.  The drive ends at a site called Rock House Cave, which is a massive Native American shelter formed from the river eating away at the rock over thousands of years.  In the back, with the help of a flashlight, we were able to see pictographs left from the previous occupants.  I wonder how many people miss these, because it’s too dark to see.  The other cool formation in this area is the Turtle Rocks, which are these huge round mounds sticking out of the ground that have square-looking plates all over them.  These were formed by water bubbling up from below the rock as well as water cutting the patterns from above.  Obviously, as you probably guessed from the name, they resemble hundreds of giant turtle shells on either side of the trail.

Now, it’s back to the cabin to cook all of the food that we brought…yes, this one actually has a full kitchen!  Yeah!  The smells emanating from the kitchen, even as I type this, are making me crazy hungry.  Any minute now, I’m expecting raccoons to show up on the back porch, holding out plates.

Break from Reality Anniversary - Day 8

Well, the lack of kitchen didn’t take long to develop.  I found out that all we had brought for breakfast was canned biscuits and eggs.  So, we had to improvise with what we had…which ended up being a delectable meal of almond butter sandwiches, beef jerky, and a chocolate/oat protein bar.  At least I’ll have plenty of energy for the hiking today.  On a positive note, we get to eat it outside on the porch swing.  The weather feels absolutely amazing today.

Later that day…

I have determined that the formula for trail difficulty computes to something roughly in the neighborhood of the following…where TD is Trail Difficulty, RT is Relative Tiredness, and FOOS is how Fat and Out Of Shape you are.

TD = 1/RT

RT = 1/FOOS

Therefore, TD = FOOS

Trail difficulty is inversely proportional to how relatively tired you are.  How relatively tired you are degrades as the day wears on, the rate of which is inversely proportional to how fat and out of shape you are.  Thus, we can conclude that trail difficulty is equal to how fat and out of shape you are, which has nothing whatsoever to do with the trail difficulty printed on the stupid brochure.

For instance, we took a “Strenuous” trail in the morning, descending 200 feet down into Cedar Creek Canyon and ending up at Cedar Creek Falls.  While exhausting, we completed it with relative ease.  Later in the day, we took an “Easy” trail to go see Bear Cave, which nearly killed us both.  As a matter of fact, my wife is still lying outside on the steps to the cabin moaning…I probably should go check on her, or at least ask her to keep it down.  The moaning is getting distracting.

Cedar Creek Falls were a bit disappointing this time, as the water coming over the edge was merely a trickle, compared to the deluge it was the last time.  I guess they haven’t had a lot of rain this year, which would also account for the lack of changing color in the leaves.  But sometimes it’s not about the destination, but the journey; and we enjoyed feeling the burn in our legs and the fresh air in our lungs.  To put it into my wife's own words as we descended back up the 200 feet to the trailhead, “Oh my god!  I can’t feel my legs anymore!  Whose stupid idea was this anyway?!  Oh that’s right…yours!  You better keep moving, because if I catch you, I’m going to use what little energy I have left to throttle you with my walking stick!”  I, on the other hand, was scampering up the trail, jumping from rock to rock, like a mountain goat…or a spry young man of…dare I say…34.  Having no issues at all, and never once bending over to wheeze like an asthmatic on a treadmill.

LEGAL DISCLAIMER:  All events described here are completely accurate and 100% honest.  They have not been changed or embellished in any way.  You should only believe what you read here and ignore any protest or dissenting opinion by my spousal unit.

After a short siesta at the cabin, we decided to try our luck with Bear Cave Trail.  The day had really warmed up, and it wasn’t as pleasant to be out on the trails.  I…I mean, some other guy that looks nothing like me at all…was sweating from places that he didn’t know he could sweat with moisture that he wasn’t aware he still had in his body.  This same guy’s…uh…this complete stranger that we met on the trail’s…joints were also popping more than a bowl of Rice Krispies.  Poor shmoe…if only he were more like me.  Instead of the invalid lying on a bed, writing in his blog, that I’m sure he is tonight.  Nope, nothing like me.

Bear Cave has the Eye of the Needle, a series of huge rocks with narrow crevices in between.  Standing in the majesty of these massive boulders dwarfed us and made us feel completely insignificant.  It’s always a wonder to see the things that God can make.

The rest of the hike would have been uneventful, except for a funny (at least to me) incident that my wife had with a swarm of determined mosquitoes.  Apparently, her sweat is like catnip (or maybe mosqnip?) to them.  No matter how hard she tried to kill them or swat them away, they would not be deterred.  In fact, the harder she tried, the more mosquitoes that showed up.  Pretty soon she had a halo of dancing mosquitoes rotating around her head.  She finally put her coat over her head, and they left her alone…only to come after me.  So, off to nurse the little red whelps starting to rise up all over my body.

Break from Reality Anniversary - Day 7

Today was a long day of traveling.  It was made even longer by the fact that we could only get radio for Country or Mexican stations along the way…nothing against them, but it wasn’t happening.  Today also officially marked the end of the Texas portion of our vacation and the beginning of the Arkansas portion.  Due to the fact that the GPS didn’t want to go along the roads that we wanted to go, I had to go all old-school and pull out the paper map.  My wife looked at me like I had lost my mind…these young ‘uns nowadays!

We took a route that brought us through College Station.  We toured around town for a little bit, basking in nostalgia and gaping at the more recent construction.  It’s amazing how much things have changed in the last seven years.  For old times sake, we thought we’d have lunch at one of our favorite places from back in the day, but when we started to think about it, we realized that our “old” selves can’t eat that crap anymore.  So, we settled on Schlotzky’s.

Our first stop in Arkansas was the site of our one-year anniversary, Petit Jean State Park.  The park is nestled in a picturesque forest just west of Little Rock, so we had a beautiful drive down I-30, cutting through tree-lined tunnels of highway on our way.  Of course, all I saw of this was a green blur, because Mario Andretti (a.k.a. my wife) was racing down the road trying to beat the sunset.  She didn’t even slow down as we got closer to the park, and the roads got narrower and single-laned.  There were some curves that I could literally feel the car starting to drift across the pavement as the wheels on my side left solid ground.  But due to my wife's manic obsession with stopping to get gas every time we used a quarter of a tank, and my thimble bladder screaming to be taken seriously and not to be ignored, we didn’t make it to the park until after dark.

Imagine our surprise when we found out the cabin we had procured, while nice, didn’t have a kitchen in it.  This might not seem like a big deal, except for the fact that we had loaded up with things that we could cook…on the stove…in a pan.  This ought to be interesting…I’ll keep you posted as this develops.

Break from Reality Anniversary - Day 5

Today, I had the opportunity to go to Flatonia, TX and play golf with my father.  I say ‘play golf,’ but it might be more accurate to say that we went hunting, since we spent more time in the woods ‘hunting’ for our wayward golf balls, than we actually did on the golf course.  It might not seem possible, but I had a few drives off the tee box that actually went for negative yards.  It was so bad, that my father actually said that the safest place for him to stand was directly in front of me.

I found that the true strength of my golf game was in…well, in nothing.  Let me put it in perspective for you.  I managed to 14-putt a hole…it was a par 3.  I managed to suck in every aspect of the game.  I guess that’s not entirely true.  I became a master of the worm-burner, which became useful when we were trying to hit out from under the trees…which as I said above was quite often!  We played best ball, so my father’s drives compensated for my lack off the tee box.  His fairway game and short game compensated for my lack in those areas as well.  I had some sweet shots with a 6 iron, and I had a single hole that I managed to bogey all on my own.  Otherwise, I was just there to make his game look better.

Later in the evening, we went to the Flatonia High School football game.  Well, I went for the football.  My father went for the cheerleaders, and my stepmother went for the socializing and people watching.  My wife didn’t want to go at all, which was fine, because then I didn’t have to explain the game to her!  I’d like to say that it was a good game, but it was more like watching a train wreck from both sides.  Of course, that could be in part because I’ve been watching high school football in the Dallas area, where all of the high schools are ranked as the top schools in the state.  Oh well, train wreck or not, it’s hard to go wrong when you’re watching football (unless it was that Seattle-Denver debacle in last year’s Super Bowl).

Tomorrow is some car maintenance before we hit the road for Arkansas.

Break from Reality Anniversary - Day 4

Today, we decided to spend the day in the stars, and we went to the Burke Baker Planetarium at the Houston Museum of Natural Science.  We watched a show on how the Egyptians used the stars to navigate, build temples, plan the growing season, and tell time.  Unfortunately, we got to the first show late, thanks to a detour to Bellaire Broiler Burger for lunch.  But I think spending time eating the best hamburger on the planet was definitely worth it.  The flame-kissed patty grilled to perfection laid out on a toasted bun, smothered in melted cheddar cheese and extra-crispy bacon, loaded with flavor, the smell of which cooking will make you salivate from the parking lot.  It’s also interesting to note that neither the restaurant décor nor the staff has changed in the last twenty-some years.  Anyway, I digress…

As I said, we arrived to the show late and we had to be escorted in by one of the staff.  On the one hand, we got VIP service, but on the other hand, we had to sit in the crappy chairs that were apparently left vacant for a reason.

The next show was better, as we got there early and had our choice of seats.  The show was better as well, as it pertained to Black Holes and the little that we actually know about them.  Which led to a lively debate on how it can be a former star collapsed in on itself but be a hole with no substance at the same time.

During one of the shows they told us that there would be a quarter solar eclipse this evening.  Stupidly, I decided that I could capture this event on film, so I went outside and tried to take a picture of it.  I’m not sure if my experiment was actually successful or not, because I’m now blind from looking into the sun.  Apparently, three quarters of the sun is still enough to make you see spots for the rest of the night.  Thank goodness for the typing classes in high school, or I wouldn’t have been able to do this entry today (I knew you were wondering…).

We did make a detour through the museum late in the day, mostly because it was free after 3 p.m. (Yes, I’m a cheapskate).  They had a very impressive dinosaur exhibit, recently redone.  I think my favorite was Slothzilla, the ginormous ancestor of the modern-day sloth; although, the building-size Pterodactyl skeleton was also pretty impressive.  The exhibit is definitely worth going to see in its own right.

That’s all I can manage tonight, and now I’m going to rest my eyes.

Break from Reality Anniversary - Day 2

We found an unexpected jewel in Kerrville, TX this morning.  While we were packing the car to head back to Fredericksburg, TX, my wife noticed this gigantic iron cross standing on a hill behind our hotel.  I’m not sure how we missed it the day before, considering we drove right by it on the way into town, but I’m guessing that it must have been that the dark red iron was somehow camouflaged against the blue sky.

So, we took an unplanned detour to The Coming King Prayer and Sculpture Garden.  There were several sculptures by the entryway with the main garden being situated on the top of a hill, a windy drive up to it.  The garden itself was arranged in the shape of a cross.  You start your walk through it from the foot and work your way up the trunk, around the arms, and end up at the head.  

Your journey takes you through significant events in the life of Jesus, starting with a sculpture of Him holding a fishing net.  He’s looking out into the distance, giving you a sense that He’s calling to Peter on his boat and asking him to follow Him and be a fisher of men.  As you make your way up the pathway, you’ll notice Bible verses embedded in the ground, each verse proclaiming Jesus’ purpose, His love, His power, His majesty, or His divinity.  What’s equally special about the verses is that each one is depicted in Spanish, English, and German (a tribute to this area being an early German settlement).  Seventy-seven verses in all speak to you as you make your way around the garden and back to the beginning again.

From the trunk you branch off into the arms.  On one side you view a sculpture of Jesus stripped down, hair hanging in His face, down on His knees, washing His disciple’s feet.  The power of that moment etched in bronze, teaching us by example to be servants to each other.  On the other side is a large globe with a Bible at its base, open to the Great Commission at the end of the book of Matthew, empowering us to go and make disciples of all men, sharing with them the gift of the cross.

Your journey comes to its climax at the head where you’re dwarfed by an enormous 77-foot iron cross.  It is visible for miles in every direction, calling people in to experience the ministry of Christ and how He died for each and every one of them, so they would finally have a way into Heaven.  It stands empty, symbolizing that Jesus is no longer on it, but is now in Heaven with the Father.

There is an ambiance in the background as Christian music continuously plays, filling you with peace as you stop and admire the detail and craftsmanship in every sculpture.  The story goes that a musician was driving along I-10 when the Holy Spirit laid it on his heart to exit it off the road.  He obeyed and found himself in The Coming King Prayer and Sculpture Garden.  He was immediately overwhelmed by the presence of God in the place and spent the next 40 days in prayer and worship.  At the end of his pilgrimage, the Holy Spirit once again spoke to his heart and told him to donate all of his musical equipment to the project.  He once again obeyed and within days a sound system was set up in the gardens.  It has continuously played worship music for visitors for the last five years.

You are encouraged to pick up a rock from the surrounding grounds and write a personal message on it.  There is a pathway etched in the rocks from visitors over the years.  Some leave their favorite Bible verses, some a testimony of thanksgiving, some a prayer for blessing or healing.  Whatever message you’re compelled to write, you can nestle it in with hundreds of other voices all sending their words into the brilliant sky above.

If you decide to go and visit this beautiful place, which I definitely recommend you do, be sure to say hi to Tom and Mary for me.  This wonderful couple is chaplain at the gardens, and they greeted us with bright smiles and hugs.  They openly gave us their testimony and prayed for our journey.  Obviously, by the fact that I spent so much time describing it, you can tell I was very moved by this experience.  It’s going to be hard to top that with describing the rest of the day, but I’ll try.

We did go back to Fredericksburg, TX only to be thwarted again!  This time the candle shop was open, but the lady wasn’t there making candles.  So, the detour was a waste.  I hustled my wife out of town before she could find something else to buy.  After a quick lunch, we headed on to Lost Maples State Natural Area.

Walking down the trail to the pond brought back many memories from our wedding eleven years ago.  I harangued my wife with stories about my groomsmen and I being mistaken for a mariachi band as we hiked in full wedding garb and carried the equipment to erect her dress-changing pavilion.  She made me laugh with stories about her bridesmaids struggling to carry her wedding dress across the stepping stones in the river and the photographer wanting to take their picture every five minutes.

The pond where we said our vows was still exactly as we remember it, only without a troop of Boy Scouts running around, screaming and laughing.  We followed the path taken by the wedding procession as they made their way around the trail and down through the trees to where I was standing with the pastor.  On the very same spot where it all started, I asked my wife to go another ten rounds with me.

I’m a little disappointed to admit that there was not an immediate reply.  She gazed out over the pond, seeming to be giving it deep thought.  I squirmed uncomfortably in the heat and the awkward silence that followed.  Finally, she gazed back into my eyes, making my heart sound like Animal from the Muppets, and said, “Sure, why not.”  Not exactly the romantic declaration I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.  We then shared a steamy, gooey, very satisfying (if I do say so myself) Fig Newton cookie before heading back to the car.

Not much else to tell, except my allergies flared up, and I got a migraine.  Tomorrow is a day of much needed rest, hopefully with very little sitting in a car.

Break from Reality Anniversary - Day 1

Another anniversary trip, another diary.  We left the house today like a pair of three-legged turtles with asthmatic tendencies.  But who really cares…we’re on vacation?!  Not a lot going on for the majority of this day, except driving, driving, and more driving.  The destination today was Fredericksburg, TX.

We finally made it late in the afternoon.  I always love the quaint feel of this town with its little shops, crafts of all shapes and sizes, and friendly people.  It’s also a really neat-looking town, each shop displaying its own unique personality.  My wife had never been here before, and she was pleasantly surprised.  I think she felt that a small town in the middle-of-nowhere-Texas wouldn’t have much to offer.

Whether for good (for me) or bad (for my wife), we didn’t get to do a lot of shopping, because most of the shops started closing down around 5 p.m.  We might head back again tomorrow for a little while, since my wife didn’t get a chance to see the famous candle shop.

We got a hotel in Kerrville, TX and finished off our day with a lazy dinner at the Cracker Barrel…mostly because it was within walking distance of the hotel, and we were both exhausted.  Our waitress, Sarah, had a nice, warm smile; and she didn’t even mind picking me up out of my steak and gravy dinner when I fell asleep sometime during the meal.

I succumbed to the beast tonight and checked my work e-mail.  I immediately had a sharp pain under my left shoulder blade, my sinuses stopped up, and my eyesight started getting blurry.  I had a constricting tension in my chest, and I think I have permanently lost feeling in the little toe on my right foot.  The stress and anxiety that awaited me was immediate and apparent.  I have learned my lesson…no more work for the rest of the trip!

Roommate Quirks

I have been reminiscing about my college roommate a lot lately.  He was a strange man, quirky and predictable, but somehow we meshed perfectly.  Well, as long as I gave in to his inner OCD that is.  But finding ways to irritate him was incredibly entertaining, and I would go out of my way to find ways to push his "quirk" button.

He wasn't a confrontational man, so mostly our run-ins were passive-aggressive, like the rag by the sink.  He persisted in draping it over the faucet.  However, it was always in the way when I turned the faucet on, getting wet, becoming water-logged, and inevitably falling into a bowl full of gross, should-have-been-washed-out-weeks-ago water.  So, after using his toothbrush to fish the rag out of the turbid water, I would rinse it off and lay it on the back of the sink to dry.  The next day, I would come home to find the rag once again draped over the faucet.  And rinse, and repeat.

This back and forth went on and on until the day when he hid all of the rags and refused to use them in the kitchen at all.  That's okay, because I found something else that irritated him more.

This apartment was so cheap that we had to supply our own microwave.  Luckily, my parents still had a small, counter-top version that worked perfectly in our kitchen.  When I first set it up, I didn't really think about the placement of the microwave.  I simply put it in the first spot I could find.  But as my use of it increased, due mainly in part to a large consumption of frozo-meals, I realized how inconvenient its location really was.  You see, the refrigerator was located on the opposite end of the kitchen.  So, a person would have to walk to one end to get previously-stated frozo-meal and then trudge all...the...way...to...the...other...end of the kitchen to put it in the microwave for radioactive cooking.  I found those extra two steps during every meal a waste of valuable time and energy.  So, I got the bright idea to move the microwave to the other end of the kitchen, directly across from the refrigerator.

I was standing, admiring my genius, when my roommate came in and exploded.  This blasphemy, this outrage, this gross injustice of chaos would not be tolerated.  I spent an hour trying to convince him of the efficiency and brilliance of my idea.  But all he could see was that it was different from what he was used to, and he hated change.  In the end, I put the microwave back in its original place.  By the next day, it was back at the other end of the kitchen!

On the flip side, he was obsessed with tidiness, so he vacuumed and cleaned regularly.  I wasn't what you'd call a slob, but I was definitely a lot more lax than he was.  I'd wait until we ran out of dishes before bothering to clean them (which didn't take long, since we only had two of everything).  But he liked to keep a nice place, straightening up the pillows on the couch, dusting, removing general clutter.  So, I guess there's something positive to be said for having OCD too.

Now, I lived with my college roommate for four years, and in all that time, I never once saw him without a hat.  Usually, he was wearing a black Detroit Redwings hat, but occasionally he'd rotate in an Atlanta Braves hat to jazz things up.  He wore it everywhere, even while sitting in our dorm room and apartment.  He could be sitting there in a pair of boxer shorts and a white undershirt, and he'd still have a hat on.  He would even go to the barber, remove his hat, get a haircut, and put his hat back on before he left the shop.  I used to tease him about how insulting that was to the barber, like he hated his haircut so much that he had to cover it up.  He didn't care.

You might suggest that perhaps I saw him take it off when he slept, which he did.  But he kept a hat stand directly next to the bed, and he’d place the hat on it when he went to bed and pick it up as soon as he woke up again.  I honestly didn’t even know he had hair under there until his wedding, which was 15 years after we graduated!

Equally weird is that I also never saw his feet.  He wore white, calf-high tube socks all the time, no matter the weather or occasion.  He’d wear them while he slept.  He’d wear them into the bathroom for his shower (I assume he took them off to bathe) and then took an extra pair in there with him to change into before coming back out.  I started to imagine that he had webbed feet or was missing a toe or something!  On top of the socks, he had a pair of Adidas slip-on sandals that he wore around the dorm and apartment…always with his white socks.  I've known him for sixteen years now, and I still have never seen that man's feet.  (It's not a fetish, it's just weird.)

Sumo

When I was in college, my roommate and I had a strange fascination with obscure sports.  Since both of us stayed up until all hours of the night and consequently next morning, we frequently were entertained with such things as bull riding, competitive badminton, World's Strongest Man, Ninja Warrior, and lumberjack tournaments.  But our all-time favorite was sumo wrestling.  We couldn't understand a word the announcers were saying, but for some reason, it's highly entertaining to watch two overly-large men in colored diaper-thingies slamming into each other.

There is quite a bit of strategy in sumo wrestling.  We saw a guy beat opponents that outweighed him by 200+ pounds, simply with speed and agility.  To this day, hearing about or seeing sumo wrestling always reminds me of sitting up with my roommate at 3 a.m. on a Friday night, glued to the T.V., wondering if Asashoryu was going to outsmart the much bigger Musashimaru or if size would win in the end.

Being Special

"I read about this monkey that the Russian government sent to outer space. They figured out that after a few weeks, he would die, because the heat from the sun would become unbearable. They said his journey would prove to be invaluable to the advancement of the space program. I wondered how they chose that monkey...that specific one. And why, if he was so special, would they put him in a situation where he could die. If that monkey knew what they were choosing him for, would he have behaved differently? Did he cry when he realized what they had done to him?" - From Standing Up

The Fire Lane

Is it okay for a fire truck to park in a designated fire lane when he's not fighting a fire?

Innovation and Humility

Today, I was working on associate evaluations, and one of the categories was "Innovation." Just for fun, I Googled "innovation" to see how they defined it. It came back with "the action or process of innovating." Grinning to myself at this reciprocal definition, I Googled "innovating." It came back with "to innovate." I give up!

Google: 2 Me: 0

Many of the associates were struggling to get these evaluations done, because they required you to toot your own horn as it were.  Being a team of modest and humble people, this came as an incredible difficulty.  One associate, after agonizing for over two hours on his review only to still be at question number one, asked me for advice.  When I found out that his issue related to his embarrassment at displaying what he termed egotism and conceit, I gave him a simple solution.  One of the categories was termed "Humility."  So, I told him to write, "I am humble, which is why I can't fill out any more of this review."  Then, on every other question, he would write, "See Humility."

Bouncing Stories

Before I made the migration back to Texas from Missouri, I was living in my friends basement. Where some people might consider that a step backwards in life, I felt myself blessed to have friends that would take me in. All in all, those few months were very happy for me. Mostly, because of my friends children. He had a little boy and a little girl. I enjoyed playing with them both, building Legos, being their horse to ride around the den, and watching shows on Nickelodeon. But the little girl took to me more easily and more quickly. I think this was mostly because she wanted attention, and I was a willing listener. Every day when she'd get home from school, she'd come into my room, plop down on my bed, and tell me all about her day. What they were serving for lunch, what so-and-so said or did that day, what she liked the best about dance class, etc. I listened as she talked about her life. I enjoyed her perspective on things, and I asked her appropriate questions to prompt her and keep her talking. It would go on like this until her mom would call her back upstairs, so she wouldn't bother me anymore. Sometimes now, I come home from work, and I miss that little girl bouncing on my bed, telling me about her day. I wonder if she misses me too.

The Comb-Under

I have a bald patch right under my chin where no hair will grow. Consequently, I have bald patches on my cheeks too, which prevents me from growing a full beard. And they're not symmetrical, so I could at least act like I did it on purpose, like one of those cool sculpted R&B beards. BD says it's because I have English blood in me, and no Englishman can grow a proper beard. This is very unfortunate, because I like to keep a goatee, which means that to do it properly I have to grow part of my goatee out longer and then slick it back to fill in the bald spot. I call it my comb-under.

I'm With Stupid - Part 2

A few years ago, I wrote a post about how accomplished my wife was on paper. Throw in the exotic aspect of her coming from Greece, and basically everyone we meet here is so enamored with her that I fade into the background. But there is one place in this world where I can outshine my wife while just being myself. A place where I'm the star that everyone is falling over themselves to talk to. That place is Greece. Because in Greece, my wife is just like everyone else...she's not exotic, and she's just as accomplished as the man selling t-shirts in Monasteraki. But me, well I'm exotic in Greece! And over there, my education is fascinating to people. "You only have a bachelors degree?! I've never met someone with such a low degree of education. How do you function in normal society being that stupid?" Well, maybe not.

The Last Bonfire

Continuing my theme of "Where were you when..." I'm going to write about the last Bonfire at Texas A&M. Some people might want to start with the fall of Bonfire, but I want to start a year earlier. I was in my first year at Texas A&M, and I was still thrilled and awed by the tradition that ran rampant through the school. It seemed like every week I was experiencing something new. I'd said "Howdy" more times than I could count, and I was serenaded every morning by the music practice of the Fighting Texas Aggie Band. But Bonfire was going to be the pinnacle to top them all. The anticipation had been building for weeks as guys would run up and down the halls every morning at 5 am, trying to rouse other guys for cut and stack and finally build. Never having been an early riser, I never got my lazy carcass out of bed to help, but I certainly wasn't going to miss the final product. The night we gathered on the polo fields was a nice night...clear, calm, and seasonably warm. The murmur of hundreds of conversations permeated the air. The strong odor of jet fuel wafted on the slight breeze. The stack was roped off so no one could get close and accidentally torch themselves, but crowds of people were packed right up as close as they could get. My girlfriend at the time, Kristy, and I were a little ways off, having arrived "late" even though we were half an hour early. We had found an open pocket, where we weren't crowded but still had an unobstructed view. This proved to be the perfect place when the first sparks were applied and the fuel caught fire. In mere seconds, the fire raced up the thoroughly saturated logs, and the entire structure, including the longhorn outhouse on top of the 55 foot structure, was engulfed in flames. The heat radiating off the stack was intense, even back where we were standing. Many eager people toward the front quickly began to back off as the fire grew hotter and hotter, building to a climax. The smell of jet fuel was soon replaced by the sweet, earthy scent of burning wood. The area, relatively dark before, lit up with an orange brilliance. Light flickered and glowed on the smiling faces of thousands of people who had gathered to witness the event. The flames twisted and writhed trying to reach their fiery fingers up to Heaven. The whole sight was bathed in majesty and awe as early cheers were replaced with an eerie quietness. We stood watching for quite a while watching the stack succumb to the relentless flames trying to tear it apart, never knowing that it would be our last.

Dealey Plaza

Today I visited Dealey Plaza and The Sixth Floor Museum...the memorial area dedicated to the assassination of John F. Kennedy. I was amazed to see how many people were lined up to take pictures. Maybe they were like me, and they were curious about a historical moment that they had heard about all their lives. Maybe they wanted to experience the scene for themselves. But unlike me, they were smiling, giddy, and genuinely entertained by someone's death. What is wrong with our culture? Why do we build monuments, preserve buildings, and sell tickets to be entertained by death? Think about how many places like this we have...Ford's Theatre, the Vietnam Memorial, the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial, the 9/11 Memorial, Gettysburg. I could go on, but I think you get the point. Why don't we just build memorials to celebrate someone's life or acts of heroism and bravery? Why are we also so fascinated with death? Why do we want to remember the tragedies?

9/11 To Me

Everyone always asks, "Where were you when such and such happened?" They want to know what you were doing when you heard about the tragedy; how you reacted, what you did. So I wanted to write about where I was when 9/11 happened. I was a student at Texas A&M, just beginning my second senior year. There was some whispering in class about some big event on the news, but I didn't pay attention, because I usually didn't care about world affairs. I lived by the philosophy that if it didn't affect me personally, then I didn't care. It wasn't until I was walking through the Student Center during a break in classes that the exact nature and enormity of the situation hit me. They had erected large TVs all over the big room in the Student Center, broadcasting the news. Images of the smoking Twin Towers were being flashed across the screen. Ominous news reports were echoing through the halls of terrorists taking over planes and crashing them into buildings, killing everyone on board. Updates and new pictures and footage were streaming in live as people tried to get their minds around what had just happened. We thought we were untouchable. We thought we were safe. Nobody attacked us on US soil! Nobody brought war and unfeeling violence to our very doorstep! This had to be a dream. People around me were openly weeping as they watched the screens. Strangers huddled together in crowds, needing the companionship, the support, and the safety of numbers. Nobody talked. Nobody had words for what they were seeing. The shock, the disbelief, the horror. Nobody looked away. We stood there, rooted in place for hours. Classes and appointments were forgotten. I vaguely remember hearing an announcement about classes being cancelled. But it wasn't like I was going anyway. Who could focus at a time like this?! At some point, I did make it back to my apartment. My roommate had the news on, sitting on the edge of the couch staring at the same images being flashed over and over again. I sat down next to him to watch them again with the same shock and awe as if I was seeing them for the first time. We sat like that for hours, changing stations to see if someone else had something new...something that explained how this could happen. Pictures of the planes moments before impact, of the smoke from the crashes, of the debris and dust caking people, roads, everything for miles around...all permanently etched in my mind forever. A heart full of sadness at the unnecessary loss of life. A feeling of helplessness that there was nothing I could do but pray as I sat watching from my couch. That is what I remember of that day. That was 9/11 to me.

A True Superhero

Forget capes and masks...a true superhero is a man that will spend the morning of his day off scrubbing the bathtub, so his wife can take a bubble bath. My wife really needs a man like that. It made me so sick watching my wife down on her knees cleaning that I had to leave the bathroom and go play video games.