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.

The Other Side

I looked on the other side of the fence, and the grass is dead over there too.

The Annoying Blink

One of the four strands of lights on my Christmas tree is blinking...just one. I can't tell if it's supposed to do that or if one of the bulbs is loose. It's annoying to look at, but at the same time I can't look away.

The Mask

I wear a mask that smiles and laughs and appears in every way that everything is ok. Because I can't show the real me. The me that misses you. The me that hurts every time I think about you. The me that thinks about you all the time. Yes, I hope that you see my mask and think that I've moved on, that I'm happy. Just don't look too closely, because I know my eyes alone can betray me. Just focus on my mask, because the mask is better than the truth.

Weird Dreams

I've been dreaming about long lost friends and not so long lost friends and family a lot lately. I'm not sure if it's this new milk I'm trying or what, but the dreams have been wild, far-fetched, and completely crazy. So if you've been getting a vibe that someone is thinking about you in some weird way...it's me!

Good Advice

The electronic sign on the side of the highway today said, "Caution: Watch for black ice and yellow snow." I think that's good advice.

Cold-Weather Drivers

Driving to work today, I realize there are two kinds of cold-weather drivers. Those who; when a single snowflake hits the ground; panic, slam on their brakes, skid out into several other cars, and cause a 3-hour delay in traffic. And those who decide that a road covered in ice is the perfect time to see just how good their high-performance driving skills are, and then proceed to push the limitations of their car's abilities and endurance. Because Goodyear tires on a truck automatically have infinite more traction than Goodyear tires on a car.

The Whistle

I like to sing, work on my accents and sound effects, talk, and generally make noise while I'm in the shower. When I first got married, I used to whistle or yell to my wife when I needed something, because inevitably when you're sopping wet you will always need something on the other side of the bathroom, like a new bar of soap or the towel which is hanging out of reach. But I digress.

 So I would call for her, but she would never answer. I would end up running and sliding across the floor to get what I needed, mad at her for this gross failure of protocol. When I would come out of the bathroom, I would ask her why she didn't come when I called. She would say, "I thought you were talking to yourself and whistling to the music." I would sigh and huff off. But no matter how many years we were married, this pattern never changed.

So one day, I told her we needed a signal...a certain type of call that would tell her it was different from my usual noise. But what could it be? It was Danny Kaye that gave me the inspiration, or at least a Danny Kaye movie, The Court Jester. In the movie, the rebel conspirators have a certain whistle that allows the other rebel conspirators to know who's safe to talk to. It was the perfect answer. I taught my wife the whistle, and we agreed that we'd only use it when in need. To this day, I can whistle that whistle, and no matter where she is in the house, she can hear it and know I need something. Now, that doesn't mean she comes...but at least she heard it!

Anniversary Saga - Anniversary #2

Ten years ago today, I got married to my wife for the second of three times.  Our second anniversary didn’t start off well.  Apparently, all the time in the wind and rain caught up with me, and I now have a cold.  I felt horrible all day, but I lasted long enough to finish out the trip.  Now, I can go home and die in peace.

We passed the morning spending more money on stuff and finally driving the entire Park Loop at Acadia.  Up until today we had focused only on the west side of the park, so it was interesting to see all the places we had missed (mostly coastline and beaches).

After this brief drive, we bid Acadia and Bar Harbor “adieu” and began our journey down to Boston.  It was a long drive and a long day.  The only real incident happened with the hotel shuttle from the airport (after returning the rental car) to the hotel.  The stupid lady told me to wait outside in front of the Hertz counter, but the shuttle went downstairs instead.  Then, she tried to make it out like it was my fault.  I didn’t murder her, so rest easy, but it was close.

Okay, off to bed now, early morning tomorrow.  This is my last post…signing off.

Anniversary Saga - Anniversary #1

We woke up today to the sounds of rain pattering down outside.  Puddles on the balcony, people in raincoats trudging down the sidewalk, and misting rain being blown everywhere.  We braved the weather to eat at the Two Cats, and see our buddy Scott again. (Yes, I know it’s against all vacationing etiquette to eat at the same place twice, but it was just as good the second time, so suck it.)

On the way back to Acadia, we lucked into another city jewel, the Asticou Azalea Garden.  This was a quiet, peaceful little garden around a quaint pond off the side of the road.  And if people didn’t know about it before, they found out about it when we pulled over to walk around.  Because five minutes after we stopped, another six cars pulled over to see why we had stopped.  I guess we look like the fun couple.

Next stop was a trek back out to Acadia for another hike, this time an easy stroll on one of the many carriage trails.  The rain had stopped, but the wind was blowing in rowdy gusts.  The leaves were falling from the trees and showering down like red and orange and yellow rain, littering the floor in a carpet of beauty.  It really brought Fall home for us.

We ate lunch again at the Whistling Whale (Yes, we broke the rule twice in one day.), and then we went shopping around town.  After spending all of next year’s salary on t-shirts, magnets, and coffee mugs; we took a stroll down to the harbor.  And that’s when we learned the origin of the town’s name.

At low tide every day a giant sandbar is revealed running from Bar Harbor out to Bar Island.  And it’s possible to walk across the harbor from one to the other, which is exactly what we did.  The sunset glistening on the water and the waves crashing into the shore made an idyllic scene as we walked across the wet sand and glistening rocks.  Seagulls were taking advantage of the stranded mussels, plucking them out of the water, flying up into the air, and dropping them down on the rocks below to crack their shells.  Totally cool to see in person, and had us completely enthralled.

We were drawn back to Acadia for one last trip before the day’s end.  And while we didn’t have long, it was a good thing we went, because we ended up picking up some hitchhikers.  Okay, technically, I guess you could call them two cyclists who had gotten in over their heads, being miles away from their car with the dark enveloping them.  We picked them up and took them to their car so they wouldn’t have to walk down the dark road and possibly get hitr.  And get this…they were from Texas too!

After that, I took my sweetie out for a romantic anniversary dinner at Rosalie’s pizza.  (Chosen because it was packed, so we figured it must be good.)  We ordered the Stuffed Eggplant Rolls and Pepperoni Calzone, and it lived up to the “hype.”  We followed this up with a romantic moonlit walk along the harbor.  It was a perfect anniversary date.  Happy 10 Years to my beautiful wife!

Anniversary Saga - What Does a Whale Whistle Sound Like?

Yesterday evening, we caught a news story that the government decided to end their stupid stand-off and reopen all government agencies.  This means that Acadia National Park was now open to the public once again.  God was blessing our trip, and my wife finally got her dream trip to the park.

We started the day with a delicious breakfast at a restaurant called the Two Cats.  Scott, our waiter, was amazingly nice and helpful, cats were walking freely through the restaurant, cat paw prints were on the tables, and cat décor was everywhere.  The omelets we had were delicious; we give it two thumbs up.

Our first stop was the Cadillac Mountain, the tallest point in the park.  Unfortunately, the cloud bank was too thick and too low for us to get a good view of the surrounding area.  So, we went back to Bar Harbor and had lunch at the Whistling Whale, a local seafood place.  The waitress was really cool, and we liked her right off.  My wife had the lobster roll, which she said needed more mayo (not sure why that was important to note here, but she wanted to make sure that made it in), and I had the fish and chips, which was amazingly delicious.  So, it got one and half thumbs.

After lunch it was back to the park for some hiking.  We decided on a moderate trail called the Bubble Divide, but the park rangers must have a different view of moderate than we do, because this thing was about as bad as the Arethusa Falls trail.  It was steep, rocky, and tough.  According to the definition of moderate on the sheet, the trail was supposed to be a mixture of steep parts and level parts.  Well, we never actually found any level parts, so they must have been smoking the crack weed!  This thing was brutal.  There were many expletives tossed at the trees, a threatening letter was conceived to tell the rangers what we really think about their moderate trail, and at several points I’m pretty sure that someone’s life was threatened if we ever got off the trail.  The low point of the hike, however, had to be when we got passed by a couple of old people.  We aren’t talking about that anymore.

We decided that was enough hiking for the day, and drove around Acadia and the surrounding area before getting ready for dinner.  For dinner, we went to the West Street Café to have lobster.  Due to the fact that we’ve never cracked open a lobster before, we got the lazy man’s lobster, which is a nice way of saying that they’ve already de-shelled it for you.  The food was just okay, and we gave it two half thumbs, so I guess that’s one thumb total.

We then went to Ben & Bill’s Chocolate Emporium so my wife could get an ice cream.  I got peer-pressured by the guy behind me to try the Kuala and Bailey’s ice cream, which was a huge mistake.  It was tasty enough, but it got me drunk.  So, we walked around town (in a crooked manner) to sober me up.

Anniversary Saga - Pain…Lots and Lots of Pain

I wonder did anybody get the reference in the title to A Knight’s Tale.  Anybody?  Anybody?  Ah well, it’s one of our favorite quotes from that movie, and it definitely applies today.  But before I get to that, let me give you a little set up first.

We decided to drive up to northern New Hampshire today to see EE Cummings’s house, but the house proved to be just as elusive as the poet.  Okay, I’m not sure if EE Cummings was all that elusive, but his house sure was.  We even stopped at the Madison Town Hall to ask for directions, but even though the ladies there were extremely nice, they weren’t really sure where the house was either.  But they did give us another place to go visit…the Madison Boulder.

The Madison Boulder is a glacial erratic, which means it’s a huge rock left behind when a glacier moved across the area 25,000 years ago.  It’s one of the largest glacial erratics in the world at 87 feet long, 23 feet wide, and 37 feet high.  To say it was impressive is an understatement.  How we have managed to luck into these cool things, I don’t know, but I’m sure glad we did.

After the Boulder, we kept going north to find Arethusa Falls.  The highway to get there was incredible.  It was an explosion of color on both sides.  We had seen trees decorated in fall colors here and there, but this was the first time we had seen it in such large quantity.  We took a wrong turn trying to get to the park, but we were fortunate enough to run into a very nice couple from Massachusetts that directed us back to the correct road.

We found the trail to Arethusa Falls.  A 1.5 mile hike straight up a mountain?  No problem!  An hour before it gets dark?  No problem!  Huffing and puffing our out-of-shape bodies over a boulder field in continuously thinning air?  No problem!  Ten steps into the trail…problem.  Whoever thought this trail up was a masochist.  It was grueling.  It pushed our endurance.  It nearly killed one of us.  Boulders, trees roots, one to two-foot step-ups, and elevation were constant throughout the entire trail.  I just knew that after making it through this test, after suffering up this stupid mountain, I was going to get attacked and killed by a moose at the end.  Because that would have topped off this hike perfectly.

But we survived.  It took us over an hour and half to get to the falls, but we survived.  I had one of my hands gnawed off by a Monty Python rabbit in the woods, but we survived.  I lost about 60 pounds in sweat and internal organs, but we survived.  We survived, and it was worth it.  The falls were a little light due to the lack of rain in recent weeks, but it was still beautiful.  Of course, we could have just thought that because of what we endured to get there.  Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay long as it was already getting dark by the time we arrived.

The hike back was torrid.  It was as if we were being stalked by a mountain lion or something.  We blazed down the trail, trying to beat the impending darkness, twisting ankles on unseen rocks and tripping over darkened stumps.  The gloom seemed even thicker under the canopy of trees without even the light of the rising moon to light our way.  When we finally arrived back at the car, it was pitch black.  I looked back at the trail and wondered how we ever made it down.  But we managed it in the ever-growing darkness in just about 50 minutes.

Sore, tired, and sweaty, we started the long drive back to the hotel.  My wife said that it would be too late to eat when we got back to Portsmouth and we should just find a hole-in-the-wall place to eat in North Conway.  And that is exactly what we did.  We stopped to eat at Delaney’s Hole in the Wall restaurant and tavern.  (I kid you not, that was the name of it.)  While we watched the Red Sox finish off the Tigers amid a raucous crowd of Red Sox fans (my kind of people), my wife continued her sampling of every type of hamburger imaginable, while I opted for a Stromboli.  And it was to die for!  (Which considering the hike we had just done wasn’t too far off the mark.)  Another great recommendation if you come up this way.

Anniversary Saga - ‘Tis Better to Take a Coat and Not Need It, Than to Not Take It and Turn Blue

Well, we definitely aren’t in Kansas…er, Dallas anymore.  Based on how it felt when we walked out the hotel door this morning, I’d say it was closer to the North Pole.  I remembered back to a brief moment right before we left the apartment for the airport, that my wife asked, “You aren’t going to take your coat?”  And I puffed up my chest in the manliest way and replied, “I won’t need one.  It’s going to be like 60-something degrees.”  And it WAS 60-something degrees, just not at 9 a.m. this morning.  My phone read 37 degrees.  So, yes, I thought back to that moment when I scorned my wife's wussiness and her pathetic need for a coat.  I thought about it, and as Ron Burgundy said when he jumped into the bear pen, “I immediately regret this decision.”  But I’m a man, and gosh darn it, even if I’m turning blue, I will NOT admit that I made a mistake.  So, I flipped up the collar on my short-sleeved shirt, and I trudged out into the frigid world!  (And then I ran back inside and grabbed a long-sleeved pull-over thingy.)

We decided to hang around Portsmouth this morning, seeing the town, visiting shops, taking pictures (just like real tourists!), and visiting some of the local attractions.  We went down to the water (I believe they call this thing an ocean or some-such nonsense), and we toured around the piers and Prescott Park, which is a flower garden that local gardeners take time to tend and maintain.  After this, we intended to visit Strawberry Banke, which is a collection of historical houses and gardens, complete with re-enactors and storytellers to take you back in time and explain what it was like to live in the 1600s and 1700s.  But we decided the astronomical cost of the tickets was not worth the pleasure to be had, so we passed on it and went shopping instead (you can imagine whose suggestion this was).

We had lunch at the Fat Belly Grill.  I ventured out and tried their Cajun-spiced Honey Burger, which I would only recommend if you like your meat burned to a crisp and then cooked for another 30 min after that.  I think the cook forgot my burger on the grill while he was watching Patriots-Saints highlights on ESPN Sportscenter.  Oh well, you live and you learn.

After lunch, we drove out to Maine.  (Isn’t it weird that you can hop into the car and in 15 min you’re in another state?  But I digress…)  my wife was being evasive about where exactly we were going, which started to make me suspicious.  I immediately understood why when she pulled into the parking lot of Divine Chocolate.  As I sat there looking at the sign, I started to think back over the last few days.  In every place we’ve stopped, we have found a chocolate shop.  I’m starting to wonder if the real way this trip was planned was to follow some Chocolate Freedom Trail.  Nevertheless, she was denied the satisfaction, since they were closed for Columbus Day (Why exactly do we honor a guy who got lost, erroneously thought he had discovered the other side of India, and then claimed to have discovered a land that was already inhabited by thousands of people?  Anyway, I digress again…)

After a very unpleasant episode tantamount to a two year-old temper tantrum at the discovery that we would be driving away sans chocolate, we headed to the Nubble Lighthouse in York, ME.  Again, I was reminded why having a coat is not such a bad thing.  The wind was blowing ferociously, slamming the water into the rocks and sending sprays of water ten feet into the air.  Being the artist that I am, I had to climb down into the fray (or spray in this case) and snap some action shots.  However, I quickly realized that I was a little too close to the action when a wave slammed into the rock I was standing on and completely drenched my pant leg.  The things I do for love of my art!

I was so enthralled with the storm of the seas playing out on the jagged rocks on the coastline, that I almost completely forgot that we were there to see a lighthouse.  So, I snapped a couple of quick shots of that too, and we drove off to get some ice cream at Brown’s Old-Fashioned Ice Cream.  (Yes, we ate a gigantic cone of caramel and vanilla ice cream while standing out in the sub-60 degree wind.  The things we do for the love of our art!)  Another must for the traveler stopping in this area and wanting to freeze both inside and out.

And now, we’re enjoying being on vacation, relaxing in our room, looking out the window and laughing at all the people freezing to death outside.  (Well, I am…my wife's taking a nap…lazy git!)

Anniversary Saga - Just Ambling Along With a Friend

Amble:  To walk or move at a slow, relaxed pace, esp. for pleasure.  To saunter.  To stroll.  To wander.

Each day seems to be better than the last, which is really saying something after Sleepy Hollow.  We spent our second and last day in Concord, and once again we did something impromptu and unexpected. 

Yesterday, at Emerson’s house, we found out that Emerson liked to take walks in the woods around his house every day.  His most-used path was a trail going from the back of his house, through the woods, over to Walden Pond where Thoreau was living in a one-room cabin.  The two would just amble along together, enjoying the companionship of friendship, talking about Transcendentalism, communing with their Maker, and collecting their thoughts (which they promptly wrote down when they returned home).  We decided to journey back in time, grab our favorite walking hat (as Emerson would say), and walk with Emerson over to Thoreau’s cabin.

The Emerson-Thoreau Amble Trail is a 1.7-mile hike through some beautiful woods.  The trees are old, thick trunks extending over fifty feet in the air, the intertwined branches forming a dense canopy overhead.  Parts of the woods are dark, where the thick tangles of branches have cut off most of the light from reaching the forest floor.  But the darkness is serene and tranquil, rather than ominous and foreboding.  There are wide open spaces between the trees, and a soft carpet of pine needles and leaves covers the forest floor.  Here and there, patches of light filters through the leaves and a clump of new pine trees would spring up and bathe in the golden warmth.  The weather was perfect today, sunny and cool, ideal for an amble down the trail.  The path wound through the woods, around several ponds, and across several little bridges, climbing and dipping over the rolling countryside, until it finally ended at Walden Pond.

The cabin that Thoreau lived in for two years as a study in the simplicity of human living is no longer there.  According to the sign, nobody thought to preserve it until it was too late.  But the site of the cabin is marked, and pilgrims from all over the world have come to visit the site and leave behind a stone with their name or favorite Thoreau quote on it.  An ambitious adventurer can climb over and around the pile of stones and read the messages left behind to their favorite author.  Walden Pond itself is much larger than I imagined, more like a lake really.  But the pond is crystal clear with a slight breeze stirring the water and rippling waves across the surface.

After a nice jaunt around the lake and the surrounding woods, we headed back down the trail to our car.  We took a different way back, cutting across Brister’s Hill.  The spot is marked by slabs of marble nestled along the path, almost imperceptible, Thoreau’s immortal words etched into their surfaces.  “The snow falls on no two trees alike, but the forms it assumes are as various as those of the twigs and leaves which receive it.  They are as it were, predetermined by the genius of the trees.  So one divine spirit descends alike on all, but bears a peculiar fruit in each.”

The slow, aimless amble that we used to get to the pond was replaced by an almost mad sprint back the other direction.  We were tired and hungry, being after lunch time by this point, and my wife got us lost (she’s still claiming that we weren’t lost, and I just need to trust her more, but I’m here to tell you that she’s wrong).  It’s funny how much longer the trail seemed going back the other direction.  When we finally arrived at the car (thanks mostly to my expert navigational skills, don’t listen to my wife if she tells you that she’s the one that read the map and figured out how to get us back), we drove through town, located our favorite pizza place in Concord, Sorrento’s Pizzeria (having found this little gem in 2005 when we last visited), and had the best brick oven pizza of our lives.  Nothing which has been written here is a lie…it all happened exactly how I perceive it in my head.

Our next leg of the journey led us to Portsmouth, NH, where we checked into a charming little place called The Port Inn.  A very nice, very quaint inn that’s about a hundred levels up from the Quality Inn in Lexington.  We ate a delicious meal of haddock, shrimp, and lobster-artichoke dip at the River House Restaurant for dinner.  Scenic and tasty, we definitely would recommend it for your next visit to Portsmouth.

Anniversary Saga - To Walk in the Footsteps of History

Did you know that Ralph Waldo Emerson hated the name of Ralph?  In fact, he disliked it so much that he named his son Waldo.  Well, that’s just one of the interesting facts that we learned when we toured his house today in Concord.  That and he had an Aeolian harp that he hung in a tree while he was outside working, which acted as a 19^th century Pandora when the wind would blow over the strings.

Then we went across the street to the Concord Museum and saw a limited-time special Daniel Chester French exhibit.  DCF was a sculptor that RWE helped get started.  His first known commission was for the Minute Man memorial statue in Concord to commemorate the start of the American Revolution.  He then went on to do such well-known things as the John Harvard statue in the Harvard University courtyard and the Abraham Lincoln memorial statue in Washington, D.C.

We finished up the day with another obvious Halloween endeavor.  You can’t come to Concord, MA in October and not go to Sleepy Hollow.  Okay, maybe not the exact same Sleepy Hollow from the book, but still pretty cool.  The Sleepy Hollow Cemetery is the final resting place of some of America’s best-known authors – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Louisa May Alcott.  As well as the gravesite of Daniel Chester French.  It’s also one of the most beautiful cemeteries I’ve ever seen.

The cemetery is picturesque, headstones set in random, asymmetrical groupings, protruding like gray teeth from the rolling hills and nestled between a variety of old, thick trees.  The weather was perfect for a trip to Sleepy Hollow.  Gray, overcast, and gloomy.  The air was cool, and rain was barely being held in check.  The dark shadows under the numerous trees, contrasting with the vibrant colors of the leaf-covered and reddish-brown pine-needled floor, set an ideal atmosphere to imagine a headless horseman riding through the headstones.  But the best we got was a spooky duck, quack-laughing from the pond nearby.

Tired, sore, and slightly wet (the drizzle finally caught up with us), we stopped at Starbucks and treated ourselves to a hot chocolate.  It was nice to actually take time to relax, instead of running, running, running.

Anniversary Saga - The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men…Sometimes End Up Better Than You Planned

The plan today was to go to see Hammond Castle on the outskirts of Gloucester, MA.  Apparently, this guy Hammond was best known for inventing the TV remote control, so of course it seemed mandatory to go and pay my respects to such a brilliant inventor.  After a beautiful drive through the cute little town of Manchester, we finally arrived.  But fate would strike again!  Hammond Castle was closed all day for weddings, and we were turned away (along with a very confused pizza delivery girl).

Since we found ourselves suddenly with hours of free time, we decided to drive on down the coast and visit the historic city of Gloucester.  We walked along the beach, my wife got hit by a wave (that’ll teach her to reach down and pick up a seashell), and I got to climb all over a boulder field like a mountain goat. 

We went on to downtown and had lunch at the Sugar Magnolias.  My wife had fish and chips (which were actually French fries) and I had a BLTTTT…wait, how many T’s was that?  Oops, that was only supposed to be 2 T’s.  It was a bacon, lettuce, tomato, and turkey with a basil mayo, in case you were wondering what that other T was.  We strolled around this quaint little town, shopping, talking to the locals, and just enjoying the beautiful weather.

We still had time before we had to drive to Lexington for the next leg of our journey, so what to do in Massachusetts in the middle of October.  If you guessed drive to Salem and visit “Witch City,” then you have a strange, unbelievable, and completely dead-on way of thinking…or you’re lying through your teeth.  But that’s exactly what we did.  We visited the city known for the Salem Witch Trials of the 1600s.  Everything was decorated for Halloween:  pumpkins, ghosts, spiders, and of course…witches.  On every corner, people were dressed in character.  And to get in the spirit of things, we went to the Salem Wax Museum, visited shops sporting spell components, and even managed to get some chocolate turtles.

Munching on our turtles, we drove over to Lexington and checked into the Quality Inn.  The irony of the situation can’t even begin to be explained, but let me give you an example of the “quality” of this room.  The handle on the microwave and mini-fridge have both been ripped off.  But instead of fixing them, the handles were replaced with a cabinet knob (microwave) and cabinet handle (fridge).  Seriously?!  Oh well, we don’t plan on being in the room much anyway.

And to end, I have been informed that I forgot to mention Wanda yesterday.  While in Sommerville, MA, we ate at a place called the 99 Grill.  For those of you who know about my history with the number 9, you will understand that I was drawn to this restaurant like a moth to a flame.  Anyway, we had a waitress by the name of Wanda who was sarcastic, surly, and who we loved instantly.  She teased me about ordering a Dr. Pepper, teased my wife about ordering a well-done hamburger, and then proceeded to give us some tips of places to visit while in Massachusetts.  If you’re reading this, Wanda, I apologize for leaving you out of Act 2.

Anniversary Saga - Are You Smarter Than a Fifth-Year Harvard Student?

We made it into Boston today and decided to take an unscheduled trip to Cambridge to visit Harvard and MIT.  Really I just needed some more t-shirts, and I felt like spending twice as much on them to get a school’s logo on the front.

Since we had made the trek across town to get here, and paid for an all-day pass to ride the train, we decided to stroll around campus and wonder what life would have been like had we gone to Harvard instead of our respective schools.  This of course assumes that we could have actually gotten IN to Harvard.  I believe the prevailing feelings on this were that my wife wouldn’t have had an issue, but there is some doubt about me making it in.  I don’t care, though, because I have a Harvard t-shirt now, and they can never take that away from me!

On the way back to the hotel, we decided to stop off and visit the MIT store too.  I mean if you’re going to buy smart-wear, then let’s go all out!  I have to admit that I didn’t really understand most of the shirts in the store.  I was bombarded by formulas and equations that were probably hilarious to an MITer, but left me standing there for 10 min trying to figure out what that funny “S” looking symbol meant in that Mathematics formula.

In the end, I selected a shirt that used formulas and equations to spell out the letters “MIT”.  My wife bought a ginormous coffee mug.  But it wasn’t until we got back to the hotel and were showing off our treasures that we realized that her coffee mug had the same formulas and equations spelling out the letters “MIT”!  Great minds think alike, I guess.  Or maybe great minds are stumped alike.

Tonight we ordered pizza, being too tired to go find something, and had it delivered to our room.  The pizza showed up looking like the guy had thrown the box down the stairs.  Oh well, it still tastes the same, and at least it’s not on my lap!

Anniversary Saga - Sometimes You Want Orange Juice on Your Pants

The trip started off better than most trips in our family.  We were on-time leaving the house and we didn’t have to go back for anything.  I also managed to somehow stuff my fan and pillow in my suitcase along with all my clothes, so at least now I won’t complain about neck cramps and being unable to breathe.

A friend of mine from work agreed to drive us to the airport, so I could leave my car in the office parking garage and avoid the high airport parking prices.  However, fate would try to derail our good start by causing a fatal accident on the freeway that Joe was coming down.  Apparently, these two people had a fender bender, and when they got out to check the damage, someone else came along and hit them.  One of them died instantly, and the other was taken to the hospital in serious condition.  Not the kind of omen you want hanging over the start of your trip!

The delay made us later than expected getting to the airport, and my wife was about to tear my throat out in anxiety and worry.  Matters only got worse when we walked in the airport to the tune of a security line about 100 people deep.  Of course, all of this was somehow my fault…all a part of some elaborate scheme that I cooked up with the help of hundreds of random strangers to sabotage our trip!  I am an evil genius…you better recognize!!!!

However, God was watching over us today, because the moment we got in line, an airport attendant came along and told us about another line down the hall with very little wait.  We hoofed it down the hall, zipped through security (complete with me getting a very special pat-down from the nice TSA attendant…I’m pretty sure he enjoyed it more than I did), and made it to our gate with plenty of time to spare.

But imagine our surprise when we get to our seats only to find out that we have some other guy sitting between us.  Figuring that all of us would probably feel awkward with my wife and I holding hands in the guy’s lap, I asked him if he would mind changing seats with me.  He agreed, nice man that he was, and gladly took the aisle seat (which I found out later was what he secretly wanted all along).  But this was not to be his lucky day! 

For the fates, having already set up some dastardly prank to ruin another part of my trip, were robbed of their satisfaction as the prank was played out on this poor fool next to me instead.  When the airline attendant came to offer us drinks, she somehow managed to pour half a bottle of orange juice all over the guy’s pants!  That’ll teach him to desire the aisle seat.  So, here sits this guy with orange juice dripping off his eyebrows, his legs, his armrest, his tray table, and pretty much everywhere else; and the attendant asks, “Did I get some on you?”  Seriously?!  But to be fair, she did quickly grab a wad of napkins and eagerly (perhaps too eagerly) pat down the guy’s lap.  He didn’t complain, and the rest of the flight went off without a hitch.

Spit is Gross

My breath smells like spit! Gross!

Jesus is Coming

I was on a call at work with two other ladies on my team. We were waiting for the client whose name was Jesus to join. One of the ladies said, "I wonder when Jesus is coming." And without missing a beat, the other lady replied, "Nobody knows, that's why you've always got to be prepared."

The Ultimate Equalizer

Stoplights are the ultimate equalizer... It doesn't matter how fast you drive, how many lane changes you make, or how many bumpers you ride. By the next stoplight, we'll all be side-by-side again. So, just relax, slow down, and stop acting like an idiot. I don't want to die because you're in a hurry to sit at the next stoplight longer.

Go Ahead and Crack

Had a friend tell me today that his job has become so stressful that he feels like he's going to crack. When he expressed this sentiment to his wife, she said, "Go ahead and crack. You are filled with Jesus, so He'll just come spilling out over everything." What a great perspective on trials. This is how I'm going to view my stress at work now.

Twin Fail

I heard a news story today where the parents of twin girls were contemplating holding both girls back in school because one of them failed. This is ridiculous! Just because they're twins! I mean this is no different than having sisters of the same age, and holding them both back because one of them fails. Just stupid!

The 2nd Amendment

For the longest time I thought the 2nd Amendment was about the right to give birth to torsal appendages. And yes "torsal" is a word. I just made it up.

Sexy

Someone noted today how sexy I look in this shirt, but he didn't want me to use his name because he thought people might think he was conceited and self-absorbed.

That's Nuts!

Almonds, pistachios, and cashews...that's just nuts!!!

Shopping Faux Pas

Went shopping with the spousal unit tonight. We were looking for something for her, but we came home with something for me instead. Isn't that backwards?

Nuking a Gnat

Tonight a gnat flew into the microwave when I was nuking my dinner. I didn't notice it until I opened the door. Somehow he survived the cooking process, and he flew out of the microwave wearing a cape and a mask.

Humble Amidst Sarcasm

My wife sarcastically told me tonight that I am smarter than 98% of the population, trying to point out how extraordinarily large my ego is. Humble, modest man that I am, I kept quiet, instead of pointing out that it was actually probably closer to 99% of the population.

The Prenup

When I got married to my wife, her parents insisted we sign a prenuptial agreement. It said, "I, Spousal Unit, do hereby certify that my husband was already crazy and weird when I got him."

Crazy

My goal is to be so weird and crazy in my life, that when I actually go nuts, nobody will notice the difference!

I Miss Our Walks

I trudge the same paths, but without someone else's steps to fall in next to, it's lonely.

Without the softness of your hand in mine, I feel empty.

Without the music of your words in my ears, I feel lost.

Without your love to walk next to me, I feel empty.

Your absence becomes acutely obvious when I walk these paths...our paths.

I miss our walks together.

Memory Like a Steel Trap

Last night, my wife told me that her memory is waaaaay better than mine. She said that she remembers things that I forget, so I asked her to give me an example. She thought for a sec, and then replied, "I can't think of one right now." Case closed...

Nutritional Value of Donuts

I'm eating chocolate donuts for breakfast, and I just noticed that the nutritional contents section on the back of the bag is blank. That can't be a good sign.

Over-thinking It

I had a very strange dream last night. And I remember thinking in the dream that it was a very strange dream. A thought within a thought...do you think I was over thinking it a little?

Sleep Mode

I think I need to adjust the power settings on my internal computer. If I sit still for more than a few minutes, my body tries to go into "Sleep Mode."

Navigator

I used to have one job when my wife and I traveled...navigator. Now, she has the GPS on her phone, and I've become redundant. So now I just sit in the passenger seat and laugh at the ludicrous routes that stupid computer takes her down.

The King

Got treated like a king this morning. Woke up to my wife cooking me French toast and extra crispy bacon. Pretty good Saturday so far.

Chicago Training

Got back from training in Chicago last week. It was sooo cold there (below zero). At one point I was carrying a drink down the sidewalk and the soda froze inside the bottle. My boss is on my list now for suggesting that Chicago in January is a good time to go to training!

Licking the Envelope

Licking the Envelope (v): From the Dictionary of Made Up Words. Origin: Derived from "Pushing the Envelope."1. To test your limits. To push yourself to excel through danger.2. To risk getting a papercut on your tongue.

Water Agony

I was stuck in a really long meeting today, and somewhere around the planned halfway point, I needed to go to the restroom. But since it was my meeting, I couldn't just pop out for a few min. I figured I could hang on until it was over, but as the time crept by, that got harder and harder. And the more I tried not to think about it, the more I thought about it. And the more I thought about it, the more urgent the need became to go...like right now! What made matters worse is that the meeting did NOT end when it was supposed to...in fact, it went on for another half an hour! I was dying. And the water in my glass was mocking me, as it undulated with the vibrations from the table, calling out to me like a siren in the sea...drink from me, drink from me...you already have to go, so what different does it make. I couldn't stand it, so I looked away, only to see the guy's glass next to me condensing as the ice melted, the water sliding down the side of the cup into a puddle on the table. The puddle getting larger and larger until a little river broke away and went snaking across the table...RIGHT TOWARDS ME! I was in agony! And then it started to rain outside. The water pattering first softly against the window and then louder and louder, intensifying in its fury the more I tried to avoid it. My project leader asked me what I thought about the discussion that had been going on, and I answered, "I think I need to go," and I shot out the door.

Mirror Connection

There's something magical, almost connecting, about listening to a song on the radio, feeling your lips moving to the lyrics, and then looking in the rear view mirror to see the lady in the car behind you singing the same song.

Thoughts on Polygamy

I can't even begin to fathom cultures that believe in polygamy.  How must the old wife feel when the husband brings home a new one?  She's just supposed to be cool and go with it on the outside, but I can imagine she's seething on the inside.

I don't know how I'd feel if I came home to find another man living in my house.  My first instinct is to be pissed.  But then again, it might be cool to have someone else to play pool with or go shoot some hoops.

Speeding

A guy I worked with got a speeding ticket the other day on the way to work.  On the way TO work.  I can see getting one on the way home, but why are you rushing TO work?!

Pained Face

Whenever BD had a pensive, thoughtful look on his face, his grandfather would tell him, "You're either trying to squeeze one out or you're wrestling with a thought that's too big for you.  Either way you need to stop."

The Flying Liver

It's no secret that I hate liver.  There is nothing redeeming about it.  And if anyone says differently, they're a bold-faced liar...don't listen to them.  Unfortunately, my mother had different views about this meat from hell.  She seemed to think that good little boys (or even little boys like my brother and I) should choke down liver at every opportunity.  I secretly think that she even made a point to special order it every time we went to my grandparent's house.  To this day, I don't really know how my mother feels about liver, but I suspect that she secretly hates liver as well, but my childhood was some form of passing along of the punishment endured during her childhood.

Either way, liver found its way onto our plates regardless of the protests and screaming that went on to keep it off.  And since my brother and I had to eat it, so did my cousin.  Sorry about that, cuz.  We'd all be loaded up and sent outside.  That was my mother's first mistake...sending us outside.  The second mistake she made was underestimating the aerodynamic qualities of liver as it's catapulted over the neighbor's fence.  Correction...my cousin underestimated the aerodynamic qualities of liver as it's catapulted over the neighbor's fence.  Since his liver not only cleared the fence by about ten feet, but also smacked against the neighbor's house.  I still don't know the secret ingredient in my grandmother's gravy, but I do know that it has amazing adhesive properties. 

That liver clung to the neighbor's house like its life depended on it.  It wouldn't fall no matter how much we willed it.  Asparagus and cauliflower couldn't knock it off.  Squash was no match for the liver.  Needless to say, we got caught when my mother came out, pointed at the liver, and asked, "What the heck is that?!"

And that's when the cruel twist of fate occurred.  Because precisely at that moment, the liver fell off the house and landed with a wet smack on the concrete.  Figures!  I caught a glimpse of the neighbor's dog heading over to investigate through the slats of the fence.  He took one whiff of that liver, and took off running.  He wouldn't even eat it.  Smart dog.

Passing in Texas

I was driving 75 mph down a two-lane highway in Texas one time.  Just to be clear, that's one lane each direction.  Also to be clear, I was going five miles over the speed limit.  Some moron comes flying up on my butt, so close I could read his VIN number in my side mirror.  There was a steady stream of traffic coming the other way, so there was no way he was passing me.  Normally, I would have been a nice guy and pulled over onto the shoulder to let him by, but this stretch of highway didn't have a shoulder.  So, for a few miles, he did the bob and weave back and forth behind me, trying to find his moment.  Finally, he got fed up and just passed me on the right.  That's right...in the grass on the side of the highway.  I saw a smiling teenager and his stupid, smiling friends passing me at over 80 mph in an Oldsmobile in the grass.

Only in Texas!

Emergency Contact

I was a few minutes late for work one day.  I got pulled into the boss's office and given a lecture about how I should call in if I was going to be even a minute late.  I was expected to work my full shift, no excuses.

I was a little miffed, so I sarcastically asked, "What about if something happens to me, and I get in an accident and can't call?"

The boss never missed a beat.  "Work better be the first emergency contact in your phone.  We need to know you're going to miss your shift before anyone else.  When we say no excuses for missing work, we mean no excuses.  Death, at the moment, is the only excuse, and even that policy is currently under review."

First Chin Hair

I was very proud of my first chin hair.  I felt like a man.  I was the first boy in my class to get one, and I wore it like a badge of honor.  Unfortunately, it was sort of off to the side, instead of in the middle where it would have looked the coolest.  So, I took to using hair spray to get it to wrap around my chin.

Setup...Set up...

"I have provided a new proposed setup which includes the new codes that we will setup on the testing platforms."

The above sentence is from an e-mail I recently received.  It illustrates another pet peeve I have in regard to people in the technology industry abusing the word "setup."  Setup is not appropriate to use in every situation.  It really depends on if you're using it as a noun or verb.  If it's a noun, then it's "setup."  (As in the above sentence, "new proposed setup.")  If it's a verb, then it's "set up."  (As abused in the above sentence, "we will set up.")  That's right, two distinct words!  Learn it, embrace it, follow it.

Shut Up!

Some days, like today, there are a lot of impromptu aisle meetings around my cube.  Some days, like today, there is a lot of talking about the start of the baseball season and who got who in the fantasy draft.  Some days, like today, there are some strange noises coming over the cube wall from the guy who can't wait until lunch to eat his lunch, so he starts unwrapping and horking it down for breakfast instead.

On those days, like today, I'm usually struggling to concentrate to get some time-urgent tasks done.  So, I pop my headphones in to drown out the world.  Today, when I turned on my iPod, "Shut Up!" by the Black-Eyed Peas started playing.  I thought it was both ironic and appropriate.

Compression Sessions

SM was reading the Tech Design and Testing Recommendations document on what we are supposed to be doing with the new technical design process.  One of the things listed is 'Project teams will hold Compression Sessions as needed'.

Not knowing what Compression Sessions were, he searched for it on Google and received:  "When 1 or more people smoke marijuana in an enclosed space such as a car, small room. etc."

I wonder if that's what our management really meant when they wrote that in the document...

Streetlights

When I was a kid, I lived in a trailer park.  I know there are preconceived notions about trailer parks and the people that live in them.  Some of them are true, some of them aren't.  Regardless, I met a lot of really great people there.  I played with friends.  I went on the prowl with the lovely ladies (okay, I was nine, so they weren't ladies yet, but you get the point).  I had fun.  And the one thing I remember about those days is my mom telling me to be back home by the time the streetlights came on.

I didn't always make it.  There were plenty of times that I was peddling furiously down the street, over the ditch, and up the hill.  What an odd memory to hang on to.

Ojo Negro

I realized today that I mooned a lot of people when I was in high school.  I'd say that just about all of my friends and family got mooned at least once, sometimes more if they were "lucky."  And I didn't discriminate against gender either.  My female friends got the ojo negro just as often as the male ones.  (Due to its controversial nature, I won't take the time to explain the term "ojo negro" here.  It's a joke between my brother and I.  If you are truly curious, then look it up online and use your imagination.)

But I took the moonings to be a way of expressing my comfort with you.  It was like an initiation into the group, if you will.  A way for you to know that you were accepted into the "inner circle" (pun intended).

I'd Rather Play Than Take Medicine

Every time I turn around these days, I hear of another kid getting diagnosed as ADD or ADHD and put on Ritalin.  I can only recall a single kid in my class ever getting diagnosed as hyperactive and put on medication the entire time I was growing up.  Of course, that was a very different time.  We actually went outside.  In fact, it was hard for our parents to keep us indoors at all.  It was a constant struggle to try to convince my parents that doing my homework before I went out was stupid, because I'd miss all the daylight.

So, is it really the kids' chemicals that are changing or is it perhaps the kind of environment that we set up for them? I mean maybe a diagnosis of ADD or ADHD is really just a sign that the natural process of humans releasing energy is being impeded by the fact that we never get off our backsides long enough to burn any energy off!  This applies to adults as well.  We weren't meant to sit motionless for so long.  We were meant to hunt and play.  Possibly more playing than hunting...

Uh...?

Today, my project leader asked me if fees were calculated once a year or annually.  Without missing a beat, I said, "Well, they have the option to do it once a year or annually, but not both."

Meetings, Meetings...Where Will It End?

Today we had a meeting at work to discuss the number of meetings we were having and how it was impacting our work.  We couldn't come to a conclusion by the end of the meeting, so we set up another meeting next week to continue the discussion.

Stuffed in Greece

I have not managed to avoid gluttony on my trip, but not for lack of trying. Take today for example. We went to a friend's house for lunch. I didn't get to make my own plate, even though I tried. And that meant I had to have quadrupel helpings of everything. I'm not kidding you, there was a pile of food about four or five inches off the plate. So, I made my best attempt to eat it all - not wanting to be rude - and this was my second mistake (the first being not having held onto my plate to begin with). We then were served with not one, not two, but three dessert courses. And each one was bigger than the last. Apparently, the phrase "No, I'm stuffed, and I couldn't eat another bite" gets translated into Greek as "I know I've just consumed the equivalent of a large horse, but please give me the largest piece of cake you can cut...actually, just bring me the whole box." I was hurting when we left. Left to go to another friend's house, supposedly for coffee and talking. I was assured I was safe, so I breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, coffee and talking in Greece implies - completely without the necessity to say it - that two different kinds of cakes, an assortment of chocolates, and various nut families will also be on the menu. I'm definitely skipping dinner tonight, and most likely all meals tomorrow.

Perfect Greek Day

Absolutely beautiful day today. Coolish, but the sun was out and it was perfect. And I saw it all from the window, since I spent most of it inside. I kept trying to find reasons to go outside, but you know how things go...and then it's dark. Okay, my wife is making me amend this, because she did take me out for a walk on the beach to watch the sunset...it was, you know, sort of romantic...okay! there I said it...happy?

Greek New Year #2

Apparently, last night was only Round 1. We're having a second celebration today as well. I'm already into the elastic pants, and I'm not sure how much further they can stretch! How do Greeks stay so thin?

Embrace the Potato

One of the best lines I ever heard on a Friends episode was when the janitor, Mr. Treeger, says, "I'm just a big potato with arms, and legs, and a head."  As I've put on weight, it's all seemed to congregate in the area of my midsection.  Unfairly, I don't have very big arms or legs, so I've started referring to myself as a potato too.  I'm skinny and fat in all the wrong places.  But, you know, even though I make fun of the way I look, and I certainly am not satisfied with leaving it the way it is, I still think it's important to like who you are inside.  Your looks are only part of who you are.  You have to embrace the potato inside the peel. Whether you're a skinny French Fry, an irregular Sweet Potato, or just a round Golden Russet; you have to learn to love what makes you who you are.  You're a potato, and no matter how you change yourself, you'll still be a potato.

The Basics

"Sometimes we does not have all the fields required..."

That is an extraction from a document written by one of my colleagues at work.  Why isn't a rudimentary grasp of the English language a requirement on job notices?  Who cares if you can use a word processor, if you can't even articulate in the language in which you'll be writing?  Have we focused too much on the advanced knowledge desired from an applicant and overlooked the basics?

Furthermore, most of these people have four-year degrees from accredited universities.  How on earth were they ever passed writing and speaking like this?

The Labra-genius

SM doesn't have a fence around his yard, so he's taken to chaining his Labrador to a stake in the yard.  She most obviously hates the arrangement, because generally people (and taunting squirrels) stand just outside her range of mobility.  So, she devised a scheme of genius proportions.  She took to peeing on her chain in the same place every day.  Eventually, the chain started to rust (and possibly corrode) from the excessive moisture.  When it became weak enough, she gave it one violent jerk, and "Ping!" it snapped.

R.I.P. Mr. Unsuspecting Gray Squirrel...

The Affiliation

Why do we all associate ourselves somewhere?  Like saying I'm Texan or Greek.  Does that define us, or somehow make us better or worse than someone else?  What characteristics do all Texans have - without fail, across the board - other than being from Texas?  What does me saying that I'm from Texas really tell someone about me?  We're not all short or tall, not all blonde or brunette, not all black or white.  We don't all have accents, or drive trucks, or own horses, or have a gun in the back window...much to the dismay of common belief.  We have such pride in where we come from, and yet where we come from really doesn't say anything about who we are.

MOlives

www.saveMOlives.com

I didn't know that Missouri olives were such a rare commodity that we had to set up an entire website devoted to saving them.

The Wind Tunnel

My senior year in high school, my parents took my girlfriend and me on a vacation with them to Colorado. In order to maintain decorum, we got two hotel rooms - my girlfriend and stepmother in one, and my dad and I in the other. This was one of those hotel rooms where the air conditioner was a unit at one end of the room, blowing air at high velocity back toward the other side. My dad and I both have sinus issues, and we sleep with a fan blowing on our faces all year long. So, we each set up a fan on the night stands by our beds in such a way that my fan blew back toward the air conditioner, and my dad's fan was between my fan and the air conditioner, also blowing back toward the air conditioner. Picture a sort of wind tunnel created by this setup. The air conditioner blew air from one end of the room to the other near the ceiling. The air bounced off the wall, got blown back across the room by my fan, got sucked up by my dad's fan, and then blown into the flow of the air conditioner, where it started the cycle all over again.

And that's when it happened. My dad...how shall we say it...let one rip into the breeze of his fan. Where it quickly got caught in the wind-tunnel current and distributed throughout the room. The bad part was that because of the nature of the current, it kept getting circulated around and around, so that every few seconds you received a new full-body waft. I nearly died before I could crawl to the fans and turn them both off until the smell had dissipated.

Coughart

Today at work, I had a coughart. I'm not sure if it was audible, because I had my headphones on, but my neighbor got up and left. Someone else passed out for 20 min two rows away. I started laughing so hard, I cougharted again. And the cycle continued...

Turn Your Back for One Minute

Wouldn't it piss you off if you left your dog in the car, while you popped into a shop to grab something really quick, only to come back out and find that he'd changed all your seat settings?

"Hey, you mangy mutt, put that seat back where you found it! And unlock this door! This is not funny!"

How Old Are You Again?

My wife says that I'm so immature that I act like a 4-year old. She says that she feels more like a mom than a wife. I'd have to say that half of the time, she's dead on. The other half of the time I feel more like 54 years old. My joints pop, I'm crotchety, and I make comments like, "I can't understand girls nowadays with their non-existent shorts."

Sometimes, the switch can be a day apart. The other day, I glued a quarter to the ground just to laugh while people stopped to try to pick it up. The next day, I had completely forgotten about it, and I stopped to try to pick up this quarter on the sidewalk, only to find that someone had glued it down.