Why take less?

So in a world of bigger and better, why would we opt for something less?  My screaming example of this came while I was at the grocery store the other day and looking at the cookies.  So many delicious choices, but something jumped out at me that just seemed stoopid.  It was the Oreos.  A fabulous little delectable that has stood the test of time and remains an American favorite.  As I looked at my many options, I realized the obvious.  There was the regular, old fashioned Oreo….  And then there was the Double Stuff Oreo.  Now can you tell me who in their right mind would settle for the standard filling when you can take on the double stuff?  Come on, man!  I’m a consistent consumer of the Oreo and ALWAYS go with the double stuff.  Why wouldn’t you?  When you successfully twist off the top cookie half and get to that splendid white center….  It’s like hitting the jackpot.  I can’t imagine going through that process and then only getting a single stuff reward! 

This happens all the time.  There are products on the grocery shelf that say “New and improved flavor!”.  Yeah baby – that is what I’m talking about!  Then, a quick peek to the left of the “New and improved flavor” and I see the original flavor.  Who would look at those options and say to themselves…  “nah, I don’t want more flavor, I think I will just stick with the usual bland option”.  And why do companies continue to produce things that aren’t as good as their new versions?  It’s like buying a car where the original comes with two tires and the new and improved model has four tires.  I can’t get my mind around it.

So, when you are at the store the next time, take a minute to chuckle at the options you have for the original version of something and the NEW, FANTASTIC and WONDERFUL option of the same product.  If you start to grab for the lesser product – slap yourself!!  Don’t take less, opt for the better option.  And always, I mean ALWAYS go with the Double Stuff Oreo or you will be mocked!

Chaperone or Chauffer?

So the time had come for my oldest son to attend his first school dance.  An exciting time, no doubt!!  My wife had received an email from the school asking for additional volunteers to chaperone the event and ensure these energetic young adults minded their p’s and q’s.  Prior to offering up our names, we asked our son if it would be okay.  My wife told him we were thinking of chaperoning the dance and asked if he would be cool with that.  His response, “yeah, that’s cool with me”.  So, we signed up to donate a few hours of our time to stand by and observe the maniacs in motion.

As the day of the dance arrived, my wife said “We need to get going since we need to check in at 5:45”.  My son – slammed with a look of confusion all over his face said “well who are we giving a ride?”.  Humm, interesting question as we weren’t giving anyone a ride.  So in follow up to his question, my wife told him that it was just us.  The confused look now turned to utter bewilderment.  He said, “I thought you guys were chaperoning and so don’t you have to give some of the kids rides to the dance?”.  It was then that we realized the young stud had obviously confused the definitions for “Chaperone” and “Chauffer”.  LOL!!  Hilarious.  So, we told him that we were going to the dance with him and would be watching over the bundle of Bieber-ites.  “oooohhhhhhhh….” was his response.

So we arrive at the school to find a room nicely decorated with balloons all over the ceiling and floors.   I told my wife it would be a matter of time before the bal *POP!*, balloons on the floor were all popped.  Sure enough, the energetic and nervous young men stomped on the balloons until there were none.  The DJ was good and seemed to play the jams the youth of America enjoy.  At first, there were just bundles of kids talking in circles.  Some were dressed as if it were prom.  Others picked a theme to run with, there was a hotdog costume, ties and hats, you name it.  It was apparent there were cool kids, the 8^th graders and then the rest. 

As things picked up and Jamba Juice was consumed… the nerves settled and there was some dancing going on.  No slow jams like we had at our dances, but all loud and active music.  My wife and I were comfortable and no longer feared the event, thinking this was a cake walk.  Then, blaring on the speakers started the LMFAO song that apparently sparked the feet and vocal chords of the youth.  They started all singing and jumping around.  Game on.  This was no longer a lame dance and had turned into a full on party!!  There was screeching, running, singing and dancing.  Wow, these little tykes don’t mess around.  Then, it was Bieber time and in unison, “baby, baby, baby…” was hollered at the highest of levels.  My wife and I made eye contact from our posts and there was a slight concern for our safety.  These little people were taking over!

The clock struck 8:00 and the lights came on and the DJ told them the fun had to end.  There was shrapnel all over the floor.  Neon glow sticks, jamba juice cups, blasted balloon parts and some spills of soda and sweat.  All in all, I have to say that these kids did it right.  I can’t remember a dance like that when I was a kid and only recall the mass separation of boys and girls and the awkward twinkles of the DJ lights.  This was a party.  The kids behaved and had a blast.  My son wasn’t embarrassed as I kept to myself and fought all urges to break out the running man.  It was a good night and kinda provided my wife and I with the proof that not all little people are scary.

Oh, and my son now understands the difference between Chaperone and Chauffer.  

Thanksgiving done right!

There’s something about the Thanksgiving holiday that just puts me at ease.  The rest, relaxation and family seem to be just what the doctor ordered. 

Every year my family makes the trip down to New Mexico for a handful of days shared with my family.  My grandparents have a farm a few miles outside of a small town, that offers a million things one wouldn’t find in their normal lives.  The Farm is a magical place that has been the anchor of our family for as long as I’ve been alive.  Family members from all over the country arrive every Thanksgiving to take in the small town feel, quiet surroundings and amazing Mexican food! 

As you pull into the drive of the Farm, you pass the pond that is surrounded with huge trees that have poured their leaves onto the front yard and nicely raked into huge piles for the kids to jump into.  As you enter the house, the sound of the old wood floors under your feet greet you with a welcoming squeak and creak.  Hugs start flowing and the chatter begins on what has been happening with everyone for the past year.  The kids (the number seems to grow every year) quickly reunite with their cousins and start trekking around the Farm in search of things they won’t see at their homes.  Plenty of open space, tree house, pond, ducks, and great outdoors!  Grandpa’s truck looks like it could be the brother of “Mater” from the movie ‘Cars’ sits in the drive with the keys in it and an open invitation for the kids to practice their driving along the back roads of the Farm.  Yes, there is adult supervision, but where else can an 11 year old boy get behind the wheel and take a ride? 

Thanksgiving day arrives as the family goes for a world record in cramming as many people as possible into the tiny country kitchen.  There is ham being carved, turkey tasting at your own risk and heavy whipping cream being poured into everything we can.  Desserts are being prepped and appetites are growing!  We all sit down for our meal, occupying three of four tables that we hook together to support a comfy, yet manageable dining experience.  You can hear the kids laughing, adults chattering and occasionally just the quiet of the day.  It takes little time for plates to be cleaned and the kids to escape back to the majesty of the Farm and the adults heading to the living room for some football and nap time.  Let’s face it, we are no match for the powers of the tryptophan and 3 slices of pie.  Couches and recliners are jammed with people looking for a place to get some shut eye.  Soon, snores fill the room and heads are bobbing as the football game fades to a distant sound.  Ahh, gotta love that.

Before the time comes for everyone to head back to the reality of their lives, we spend more time as a family with a dinner out at the best Mexican food restaurant you will ever find.  Following that, a game of bowling at the local bowling alley and a chance for greatness to be on display.  We usually occupy 4 lanes and about 15 or 16 “bowlers” and it’s a great outing for the group as the kids bank balls off the bumpers and the adults battle one another for bragging rights. 

Now tell me, is that a Thanksgiving or what?  Hopefully you get to have the same experiences and memories as my family is blessed enough to have during this magical time.  It’s just about the time that we shed those extra pounds we so rightfully gained over the holiday that we start to yearn for the next time.  Thanksgiving is a great thing when done right, I’m happy to be a part of a family and tradition that offers up the perfect holiday!

No NBA? No Problem!!

So the latest drama in the world of professional sports surrounds the inability for owners and players to decide how to share many, many millions of dollars.  Hummm.....  I have a few thoughts on that.  Still, we the fans are faced with the very good chance of missing an entire NBA season.

How do I feel about that?  Well, I think the absence of prima donnas  walking up and down the hardwood in search of their next 1-1 matchup... won't cause me to lose any sleep.  So we won't see the high-flying slam dunks or the flops in search of a foul.  We won't get to see grown men behave like babies when they are whistled for a foul and somehow feel the need to argue and throw their hands in the air in disbelief.

What happened to the days of David Robinson, Charles Barkley, Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Hakeem Olajuwon  and Dominique Wilkins?  This was an era of true NBA hoops.  There was respect, athleticism, competitiveness and passion.  Sure they scared many of us with the short shorts and high fade hair cuts.  Still, they played the game it was intended to be played.  They hustled, dove on the floor, shared the basketball and played team defense.  There wasn't any flopping or crying to officials.  There wasn't multi-million dollar punks with Slick Rick agents up in the suite.  It was a time for the game to be the game.

So, if we are faced with winter without Kobe, Lebron and attitude..... I think we will survive.  Don't fret as there is an entirely different option for us hoop fans.  It's called the NCAA!!  It will remind you of why you love the game and why you really don't like the NBA.  A bunch of kids leaning on the memory of the movie "Hoosiers" and dreaming of the next level.  Still pure, honest and with ethics, these kids play the game hard and with pride.  They are representing their schools, friends and families.  They don't have agents driving cars that auto-park themselves.  They don't have endorsements and contracts that taint them and push them to believe they can't get wet in the shower.  They are people just like you and me.  They are basketball players.  So enjoy a basketball season in the college world and start printing out as many March Madness brackets as you can.

Yes, you can still wear the Carmelo Anthony jersey you spent way too much for.

Really? Driving gloves???

Okay, when I think about driving gloves, I think about some high rollin’ cat in Italy racing around in his Ferrari!  I think about mountain roads filled with incredible scenery and an occasional hair-pin turn that needs managed.  You know, like what you see in a commercial or Hollywood flick. 

This morning, I caught a glimpse of the driving gloves right here in my own backyard.  It’s 7:15 in the morning and I’ve started the joyous trek that is my normal commute.  I’m sippin’ on some coffee and listening to anything that isn’t Beyonce.  Just minding my own business.  Then, out of nowhere, pulls up this blue Porche 911.  It was sweet.  As I glanced over to take in the machine, I caught a glimpse of the driver… a man in his early 40’s and dressed nicely with the wavy hair and unnecessary sunglasses.  I thought to myself, “now here’s a dude that has some place to go”.  As a started to return my eyes to the light in anticipation of GREEN, I saw them.  Right there and perched upon his steering wheel.  DRIVING GLOVES!!!

So, it isn’t cold enough to require gloves on the morning commute.  30 degrees is very tolerable and from my initial assessment, I’m guessing this guy has a garage where he keeps this blue beauty.  So, the gloves can’t be to support the frigid climate as I’m assuming he didn’t take a step out into the elements, but instead just plopped down in the plush leather of his drivers’ seat.  Could the gloves be for performance driving?  Maybe – but there isn’t much opportunity for performance driving in the hustle and bustle of the rat race on a Monday morning.  I don’t get it!!  Is it just a fashion statement that escapes my average Joe style?  Perhaps the driving accessories came with the ride and he signed some pact that states he will forever don the gloves while pushing the 400+hp?  I don’t know.  What I do know is that I saw a dude wearing driving gloves. 

I don’t care what you drive.  I don’t care how cool your hair is.  There is no place for driving gloves.  To prove my point, I think I will race out and get some Isotoners on sale and sport them on my drive home.  I will wear them as if I have some place to be and all others should question their own selves and have to answer the question why they aren’t cool enough.  I shall collect laugher, finger-pointing and hopefully a harassing honk to prove my point!

What a waste!

One of the best couple of weeks in the year…. The World Series!  For baseball fans around the country, it’s a time when the summer past time rolls into fall and the elite shine.  Whether your team is in it, or you’re simply adopting one of the final two teams competing for the pennant, it’s a wonderful time of the year. 

On Sunday night, there were 49,170 fans wearing Texas Rangers colors – and a few sporting the Cardinals gear – as game 4 got underway.  As I watched the game from my recliner in the family room, I think about what a wonderful event this is and what a true blessing it is for those fans who scored tickets to the game.  Again, it doesn’t matter if you’re a fan of the game or not, simply being in attendance for one of sports’ great occasions is amazing  and a true privilege.  Maybe even a once in a lifetime opportunity?

So can someone tell me why, why in the name of all that is good and holy in this world, would a chick sitting front row behind home plate feel the need to be on her phone for the entire game?  Come on man!  You have to be kidding me.  I get it, you might want to take a picture and then post it to your Facebook, LinkedIn or Twitter account so all of your “Friends” can see how cool you are and be reminded of their lifetime of failures.  Still, that effort should only take 3 minutes at the most.  This girl had her head buried in her keyboard for the majority of the game.  I would see the batter dig into the box, spit over his shoulder and peer back at the pitcher.  Then, I would glance behind the batter to see this knucklehead missing the entire thing.  One of the most frustrating feelings I’ve had in some time.

I wanted so badly to obtain her mobile number, call her from my chair and give her the business.  What a waste.  Not just of money paid for the tickets, but a waste of a seat that a true baseball fan would have killed for.  I realize we’re quickly becoming a country of tiny letters and sore thumbs, but you have to know when to put the damned phone down.  If you can’t understand this, perhaps you should avoid any public setting, or sporting event or anything that requires actual eye contact and social skills.  There is a place for peeps like this, and it ISN’T front row at the World Series!!! 

Please, let us come together and realize there is more to life than updating your status every 5 minutes with information that nobody really cares about.  Don’t allow yourself to be defined by 55 characters or less.  Be someone, be present and be an individual.  If you have tickets to game 5 of the series and can’t seem to find the strength to fight the mainstream addiction that pulls all your focus and energy from that tiny brain of yours…. Please mail me your tickets and I will go in your place… with my phone left at home.

Mystery Sunroof Attack!

Stunned.  Curious.  Mystified.

On Tuesday of this week, I entered my garage as I do every morning in preparation for making “The Man” look good.  I tote my laptop case and cup o Joe towards my car that is quietly resting in its place.  As I near the ride, I notice something on top of the car.  What in the #$(*&#$?????  As I squint to the seal that surrounds my sunroof, I notice it has been damaged.  Damaged in a way that is unexplainable!  There are some small pieces of the rubberized material sitting on the roof of the car and right next to the glass.  What in the ##$(*&$????? 

What could have caused this?  Was it a bird sitting atop the car that was pecking on the material?  Can’t be as the loose pieces would have flown off during my commute from here to there.  This happened while I was asleep and the car was parked in the garage.  Was it a mouse?  No… I mean, how could a mouse climb onto the top of my sweet ride?  Wouldn’t it slide off while trekking up the windshield or rear glass window?  Besides, there was no evidence of paw, claw, tail or otherwise present on the car.  Could the rodent be a fan of Tom Cruise movies and actually repelled from the roof as to not make their presence known?  Come on… that would take at least 3 mice to pull of such a stunt with all the cables and planning!

And what is so special about the rubber material that surrounds the sunroof?  My wife’s car that sits right next to mine is untouched!  Does my sunroof reek of an odor that is irresistible?  Again… what in the #$)(*)#$?????

So I chalked it up to some freak thing that nobody could ever explain.  I went through my day on Wednesday, repeating my usual routine filled with unnecessary meetings all day and football practice to end.  I parked in my spot as usual and called it a day.  As I started my Thursday in the same fashion as the day prior, I approach my car to find the same frickin’ thing has happened!!!  You gotta be kidding me!!  What in the #$#$()**?????  Again, I look all through the car, the trunk, the ceiling of the garage (inspecting for cables and tiny mouse gloves) and there is no sign of an attack beyond the little rubber pieces that are left on the roof.  Now it’s getting personal!

So before bed last night, I get out my materials in search of the sweetest revenge.  I have two of the sticky pads that encourage tiny assailants to hop on.  One on the floor and the other on top of my car next to the crime scene.  I then get the old fashioned wood-based trap that holds the tastiest of cheeses.  Yeah, it’s go time.  Go ahead and judge me for my tactics and call PETA (People Eating Tasty Animals).  I’m out for victory and closure.  Besides, the humane traps don’t work because they don’t mean business.  I set the scene and head off to bed with extreme anticipation for what I might find in the morning.

This morning, I grab my coffee and laptop bag and quickly make way to the garage.  Trap one with the cheap cheddar is empty.  Ugh.  Trap two is the sticky pad between the cars… empty.  Ugh.  Then, I glance to the top of my car and there is a raccoon asleep.  Just kidding.  That would scare the pee outta me!  The third trap was also empty.  The sunroof experienced no further violation during the night.  What in the #$#*($&#???? 

So, I’m thinking I will repeat my efforts from last night and hope I’m smarter than the criminal.  I want this thing done and I want to send a message.  I’m hoping that whatever is responsible for the damage is served sweet justice.  I want the message sent to any critter in my hood that things don’t play like that at my casa.  So, wish me luck as I battle the evil forces that seem to have it out for me and my transportation.  I shall be victorious (or be without an entire seal for my sunroof).  Stay tuned…..

Okay, what's up with baby corn??

There are some things in this world that can pull off being small.  There are small dinner portions, small iPods, small cars, small font, small babies and even small victories.  But what I can’t accept is small corn!  What is the purpose of this tiny vegetable?  It makes its appearance from time to time on your plate – usually in a Chinese dish but it’s been spotted in Thai food and Indian food as well.  Where does this stop?  While I would like to give you the positives surrounding this miniature cousin of corn on the cob, I can’t as I’ve never eaten it.  When I see it on my plate, I simply mock it for its size and then push it to the side for later delivery to the trash!

I’m quite certain that it can’t taste like a nice, buttery corn on the cob and surely you can’t manage to get the corn on the cob pokers into the sides of them.  If someone were to try and eat it as if it was the appropriately sized version on the cob, can you imagine the weird looking face of the eater?  Pushing your teeth out as far as possible and then taking tiny little bites to remove the kernels.  Not good.  Every time I have seen them, they appear soggy and bland.  They are kinda wobbly and bouncy at the same time.  So tell me… what is the purpose?  Are they on the plate simply to get made fun of?  Do people actually eat these little things?  I have to think that they aren’t intended to be eaten, but instead are present to fill in some gaps in the plate.  Maybe the restaurant ran out of chicken or broccoli and thus had to lean on the limp spears.

Another thing… you never find these tiny beasts outside of their cob-like version.  I haven’t seen a can of itty bitty corn kernels like you see from the good people at Del Monte.  I wonder how many of these things it would take to fill up a standard 15oz. can.  Like 7 million?  It’s crazy!  When I think about it… I would have to imagine a field of Oompa Loompa’s out there hand picking these little things off the stalk, assuming there is a stalk even involved.   Maybe there is an entire village of tiny things and this little corn isn’t little in that world?  The citizens of the tiny village like to get a laugh occasionally and put a bag of their corn on the farmers’ truck and it somehow gets delivered to stores and restaurants.  Then, they sit back on their tiny little couches in the evening and laugh at those of us actually trying to eat the imposters.

Whatever it is, it’s STOOPID and must come to a stop.  Join me in boycotting all tiny corn cobs and push back on this tiny village, sending the message that we will no longer stand for it!!!

Herding Cats...

Have you ever tried herding cats?  How about substitute teaching a kindergarten class?  Ummm, what about trying to build a sand castle at high tide?

If you have, and been successful, you would make a great youth football coach!   You see, I coach a youth tackle football team made up of 5 and 6 year olds and have to share some of the fun.  Every Monday and Wednesday, the little dudes gather at the practice field in preparation for battle on Saturday.  They arrive with smiles and in full pads.  Some of them weighing in at a whopping 42 lbs and a game face that has the remains of kool-aid and pudding from their afternoon snack. 

The first challenge comes when they start off practice with their lap around the field.  Of the 16 kids on the team, there will be at least half of them that fall over during the lap as a result of their helmet weighing them down and messing with their balance.  That lap takes about 5 minutes.  Practice gets going with some drills to enhance their football skills and includes running the football, tackling and blocking.  Apparently, these little guys have some challenges in locating the ball carrier as time and time again, the runner will “speed” past the defense as the defensive guy is either dancing with the kiddo blocking them or has lost interest and asking when practice is over… right in the middle of the play.  More work needs done on the concept of tackling the ball carrier. 

Then, there is the huddle.  Yes, seems like a pretty easy thing to conquer but when you have 5 and 6 year old kids that have the attention span of a gnat, it proves a challenge.  With each offensive player assigned a particular spot in the huddle, we still find there are voids and gaps in the huddle.  The guard is where the tight end should be.  The tight end has failed to join the huddle and is chasing a grasshopper.  The center is struggling with a runny nose that is leaking into his mouthpiece that he continuously forgets to put in his mouth.  When he does put it in, he puts it upside down and complains of discomfort.  After shifting the kids into the right spots in the huddle, we call out a play.  The holes are 2, 4, 6 and 8 on the right side of the center and 1, 3, 5 and 7 on the left side of the center.   Ahh, so the running back runs through the hole called.  Yep, makes sense.  With some of the kids struggling with this concept, I tell them to practice at home.  My recommendation is to write down the numbers on sheets of paper and put them on the floor of their bedroom so they can remember.  Soon after my recommendation, a little fella raises his hand and says. “coach, I can’t read!”.  Of course….  J

Game day rolls around and the boys look great in their uniforms.  They are excited for the game, or anxious to see what the halftime snack is, but either way… they look great in their uniforms.  As we line up to get the game underway, it’s apparent that we’re out-sized.  Our team average 45lbs and some of our opponents drive themselves to the game.  I think I saw one of the opposing players kissing his wife before taking the field.  The ball is snapped and their running back runs through our distracted defense and it’s 7-0.  Now we get the ball.  The huddle “forms”, yeah… when I saw “forms”, I meant that the coaches lift and shift the kiddos into the right spot.  Then the boys take the line and get in their 3 point stances.  HIKE.. the ball is snapped and our line instantly forgets how to block and stands straight up, allowing the defensive players that are sporting goatees to smash our little running back.  Just doesn’t seem right.  This goes on for two 22 minute running halfs.  Ouch.

As the game ends, the boys are happy.  They don’t care about the score… they have wiped away the tears that resulted from a boo boo in the first half.  They are excited they got to play football and now looking for the little Gatorade bottles and Nutter Butter cookie packs to seal the day.  When they look up at you with sweaty brows and grass stained pants…. Their little faces looking for a congratulatory speech…  ahh, makes it all worth it.  The kids might have got whooped on the field, but they are football players and they are proud to be.  Herding cats is tough.  It’s stressful and frustrating at times but these little dudes trying their hardest and enjoying the game for what it is – well, that is worth the price of admission!!!  So, I’m off to create this week’s practice plan which will include huddles, tackling, blocking and a handful of fun that puts a smile on their faces …  and certainly on the coaches faces as well!  

Come on... you know it's funny!

At first I thought I was just being rude.  Then I wondered if there was something wrong with me.  Is it right that I find extreme humor and self pleasure in watching others trip, stumble and fall? 

I’m guessing that if you sit back for a minute and think about it, you too are on my side.  Think about it…. It can be a model strutting her stuff on the runway or just some stranger who is mysteriously attacked by a sidewalk gremlin as they stroll.  It’s frickin’ funny!!!  When the balance goes and then the limbs start flyin’ with every attempt to remain upright – it is something to behold.   Gravity is a nasty beast, whether it’s taking its toll on your body with new found wrinkles and sags or forcing the ketchup to hop off the shelf in the fridge and explode on the kitchen floor.  You can try to tame gravity, but you will lose. 

The other day, I watched a video of a model that was confident and proud as she stomped down the runway with her platform shoes pounding the catwalk.  Then, wait for it…. BINGO.  That lanky right leg hit a spot on the floor and it was on!  If you watch it in slow motion, it seems like it was 5 minutes of her attempting to remain graceful and hot while challenging her future that couldn’t be avoided.  It was ugly and awkward kinda like a new born giraffe getting up on all fours.   It was hilarious.  Then, the other day I was heading out of the office and to the parking garage when the dude that was hiking up the stairs in front of me seemed to have caught his wing-tipped shoe on the edge of the stair.  Oh yeah, he was done.  He dropped his bag and sunglasses as he tried to find level ground in which to collapse.  Garage sale!  I tried to keep a straight face and ask if he was okay, but I know that I had a smirk presented that I couldn’t control or hide. 

The best is sometimes post fall when the victim gathers themselves, returns to an upright position and then does the look around to see just how many witnesses there were.  It’s almost like if nobody was there to see it happen…. Did it happen at all?  YOU BET IT DID!!!  Another favorite crashing of mine involve celebs.  Recent events can display Lady Gaga hitting the floor, and Rhianna bouncing off the stage.  There is something about multi-millionaires and their inability to buy balance and grace that just tickles my fancy.

So, if you’re jonesing for a little taste of someone else’s misfortune, might I recommend airports as the many obstacles and challenges associated with travel seem to offer the highest level of return for your viewing pleasure.  If you don’t travel yourself… just sit on a bench somewhere at lunchtime and take in the fun.  Now, if this happens to you… you must realize that there are others out there like me who will be chuckling at your equilibrium-challenged self.  Don’t let that get you down.  We still love you and think you’re awesome.   Don’t be embarrassed and don’t be mad.  Know that you likely made someone else’s day with your fiasco and then give yourself a little chuckle.  Then, once you have collected yourself, apply band-aids where necessary!!

Fantasy Football is approaching....

It’s a time for the Red Zone channel.  A time when Sundays lose all productivity.  A time for squeezing in all the “honey-do’s” into Saturday so that Sunday is free for couch time, nachos and beer.  Ahhh, the fantasy football season is a knockin’ on the door.

I don’t know about your league, but my league kicks things off with an annual draft party hosted by the Commish.  There are ribs, burgers, appetizers, smack talking, laptops, notes,  draft guides and some drink.  Yes, fantasy football and drink kinda go hand in hand.  I like to start off my football Sunday with a Bloody Mary and some final checks on my starting lineup.  Then, perhaps move into the world of Fat Tire?  Really depends on the weather and the matchups I’m facing.  Everything has to be organized and prepared.

I don’t know what the record is for most football games watched at once, but I’m a believer you should tune into the Game Mix channel which offers up to 10 games, then have your local game on the “last” button.  Then, light up the laptop or iPad for viewing of the red zone channel.  With that approach, even my tiny brain finds a way to digest the scores, stats and turnovers all while keeping an eye on Stat Tracker to see just how bad I’m thumping my opponent!  For the rookies out there, if you find yourself on a commercial at any point on Sunday…. You are failing!!!

One should also be cautious in playing in too many leagues.  You could find yourself cheering for one lineup in one league, but then have players in another league that you’re facing in the other.  Yeah, you can see the dilemma that is ever present.  When this happens, you will find that you root for completions, but not many yards.  Or, score a TD but then later fumble.  It just is too challenging to know when you need to blast out a finely orchestrated string of cuss words and when to just have another sip of Fat Tire.

Another thing to consider is the feelings of your spouse.  I find it best to manage expectations up front.  When he/she (know, I don’t mean you’re married to a transvestite) knows the kind of person you will become on Sundays, they will find it difficult to hold you truly accountable for your actions.  Explain the good, bad and ugly associated with coaching your own fantasy football team.  Inform them of the stats and their importance.  Communicate that when you will certainly scream out at the top of your lungs for a fumble or player that gets tackled at the 2 yard line only for the next RB to get the carry and touchdown on the next play.  These are important Sunday moments that can dictate your mood and attitude for the following days. 

All in all, what a great time of year.  Draft parties, questionable trades and the dodging of any real responsibility on Sunday.  Thank you Fantasy Gods for delivering this wonderful season and thank you spouses for holding off on divorce papers, knowing there will only be 20 weeks or so of this madness.  Besides, when football is over…. We Fantasy Fools struggle to find joy in playing Fantasy semi-truck pulling competitions once football has vanished.

Enjoy the season and may I wish you sacks and fumbles!!!

Boys will be boys..

We guys have this inner voice that encourages us to be messy, stinky and sometimes just outright rude.  We know that this behavior can’t be tolerated in our normal day to day lives as we have responsibilities.  We have work that won’t stand for it and we have children we prefer not walk around burping all day long.  Did I mention the looks we would get our from wives as well?

Still, what a nice break from reality it is when a group of buddies gets together for a long weekend up at a cabin to partake in golf, horseshoes, grilling and some “light” consumption of beverage.  So, picture this if you wil…

8 friends gather once a year for a trip to the mountains and a stay at a cabin.  Those friends have played ball together, stood in weddings together and played many a golf course together.  As the crew gathers at the cabin, the trucks are unloaded with food, clothes, golf clubs and a big shiny silver can thing that has a hose coming out of the top.  With the sun shining bright, the fellas sit out on the deck and start the long weekend.

There are pitchers being filled and refilled regularly, laughter, cuss words and the occasional rude sound flowing from the team.  When guys get together, there isn’t a normal eating time, so there are burgers flowing at 3:00 in the afternoon and snacks laying throughout the cabin – inside and out.  The first day starts off with 27 holes of golf and wagers put on every swing!  The 8 guys race their golf carts around the course, hitting great approach shots and missing 4 foot putts.  Ahh, good times.  The team then retreats to the cabin to settle up all the bets and start back with the pitchers.  As we sit on the deck watching the day turn to night, we discover an incredible new game and means of betting and talking smack.  From the chairs on the deck of the cabin, we start to toss golf balls onto the rocks and dirt of the drive and towards a piece of 4” PVC pipe that has been shoved into the ground and in the middle of a light shone from the deck of the cabin.  From about 15 feet away, the contest is to see who can toss a golf ball, have it successfully dodge all the rocks, wood and wild flowers to find its’ home in the PVC.  DECK GOLF HAS BEEN DISCOVERED!  Isn’t it funny just how easily you can entertain 8 guys?  We’re simple creatures.

Day two is filled with 36 holes at a new golf course.  Still sore from all the swings the day prior and the excessive intake of fun the day and night prior (not to mention actually standing upright after a night on the couch), the teams break out to conquer the other.  Food, drink, drives and putts fill the day.  At the end of the agreeable day on the links, the team circles through the Taco Bell station to fill up on the necessary items for consumption back at the cabin.  Again, there is some smack talk and settling up of bets and replays of the memories made earlier in the day.  Ahh… good times.

Day three lands with no golf.  WHAT?  Nope, no golf today but instead, we shall gather in our chairs outside the cabin and alongside the horse shoe pit.  GAME ON.  Teams are formed, pitchers are filled and shirts are removed.  A day of sun and clanking of shoes!  Did I already reference the pitchers of liquid joy??  All day we toss around the shoes, not realizing that you can actually be injured while participating and can feel some soreness in weird places the morning after.  Before the day ends, there is a suspicious happening taking place with the large silver can with the hose.  It seems to be bobbing up and down in the huge trash can filled with ice.  Soon, the hose ceases to distribute the beverage of choice.  What in the @#(*&()*???  Already?  No worries.  I quick run to town for another 4 cases of the good stuff should get us through.  About 8:00 that evening, the grill lights up and plays host to 8 of the biggest steaks you have seen.  Surprisingly, the group of 8 still opts for silverware.  Weird.  Another successful day!

As the final day arrives, it’s time to pack up and clean up as we prepare for re-entry into reality.  One of the bets made in the previously mentioned rounds of golf is to see which team has to clean the cabin.  Let’s just say that isn’t a wager you wish to lose as I referenced the Taco Bell run earlier… yeah, 8 dudes using one bathroom for a long weekend is not a place you wish to find yourself during cabin cleaning time.  There isn’t enough protection, scrubbing bubbles and passion to be mustered up.  Ouch.

So in closing, I wish to thank my friends for another year of greatness and also apologize to my beautiful, patient and loving wife who has given me plenty of opportunity to adjust back into the life of putting the toilet seat down.  

Vacation…. Is it really?

You know that feeling you get when you have been busting your tail for such a long stretch without a break?  You are drained.  Exhausted.  Beaten.  Then – you remember that it’s only a couple of weeks before you say “LATER” to your corporate cage and head off for a weeklong vacation.  Ahhh yeah…. Some rest and relaxation.  Some food and beverage!!!!

Now – slap yourself out of that dream world and get aligned with the reality of what vacation really means.  Well, vacation when you’re a parent and it’s a FAMILY VACATION!!!!

All things change at this point.  The preparation for the vacation doesn’t include throwing things in a suitcase and knowing you can just but it when you are there if you forget something.   There is no rushing out the door on a whim with visions of beaches and Coronas.  Nope.  There is planning.  There is packing.  There is double and triple checking.  With kids in the mix… you have to make sure they have their clothes, jammies, toothbrushes, crap to entertain them on the plane, a change of clothes just in case of catastrophe and then check it all again.  This usually takes up to two days.   Mom and Dad… yeah, we were packed in 30 minutes.

So the day of travel arrives and I lug four suitcases into the car, hoping like hell the balancing act worked out so that they are all under 50 lbs.  We arrive at the airport, park and shuttle to the terminal.  Tickets and bags are checked and we’re sensing a slight bit of relief that step one has been successfully completed.  The plane ride goes off just fine as on Frontier you can swipe your credit card and for $6 a screen, the kids don’t have to miss Spongebob just yet.  Arrival to our vacation destination, taxi to the hotel and unpack.  Whew… step two complete!

Okay, now that we’re there in the land of holiday, I quickly realize that my wallet might as well just remain open for the remaining steps of this trip.   I first have to pay the street performer who snuck my little man a frickin’ balloon that looks like a sword.  Soon after the street performer, I hear “we’re hungry”.  Okay, so some chow doesn’t sound so bad…..  a quick lunch and $75 later, we back on the path of dodging the street performers.   By this time, the kids are ready for some entertainment.  Rather than rambling on about all the various fun that was had, I will summarize with 4D movie thing (three times), arcade, more food, another sneaky street performer with cool painting things, Bay tour, Alcatraz with necessary souvenirs, Giants game (okay, so that one might be my fault), Chinatown and souvenirs, more food, bungee jumpy thingy, cotton candy, movie at the hotel, aquarium with souvenirs, small street shops for souvenirs, Ghirardelli square for ice cream and chocolate, more food, another movie at the hotel, $80 stop for snacks and then some other food stops.

I think you can understand my previous point of just leaving my wallet open for the week.  It’s easier than reaching into my pocket for it 7 million times!  You see, traveling with children is not a vacation.  It’s simply entertaining, clothing, feeding and monitoring your children in a different location and without time for a nap.  My wife and I both agree that there should be two vacations.  A family vacation that will certainly resemble a Griswold event and then a parent vacation where we can walk around the room naked, drink as we choose and tell those street performers where they can shove their balloons. 

Don’t get me wrong, it was a fun “vacation”, but one that has left me tired and broke.  At least when I’m at the office, my wallet gets a little break!

The American spirit on display....

I have been a sports fan for as long as I know.  Doesn’t matter if it’s a golf match, hockey playoffs, Sunday afternoon baseball, or watching rugby.  Sports represent all things good…. Competition, teamwork, passion and pure “want to”!

Growing up I played anything that involved a ball, stick, field or competition.  There is no better feeling than busting your tail practicing, preparing, working hard at your craft and then going head to head against some sucker that is ready to learn a little lesson.  Ahh, sports is what makes the world go ‘round (and Heidi Klum). 

So this weekend I was excited to take in the US Women’s soccer match with the United States playing Brazil.  Usually, not a huge fan of soccer but when there is an American flag draped across the face of fans in the stands and the underlying sense of patriotism…. Well, that kicks things up a notch!  Watching the game, I felt myself struggling to catch my breath and sensing the drama and urgency of the moment.  The USA team faced one obstacle after another and it felt as though this game wasn’t just a game.  It was the American spirit and fire on display for all to see.

As the match unfolded, the Americans were dealt one blow after another with a red card and ejection of one of our players which left us short-handed for the remainder of the game.  Hope Solo (ahhh…. Hope Solo…..) came up with a miraculous save on a penalty kick to hold a 1-0 American lead.  Then, the official called some nonsense penalty that allowed another penalty kick that Hope couldn’t save.  The score goes to 1-1.  It was at this moment that things shifted.  The USA was up against it and appeared to be facing more than just 11 Brazilians on the field, but some questionable calls and an uphill battle that would be difficult to overcome.  Playing a person down and trying to find a way to dismiss the blown call that tied the game up, the Americans would need to dig deep.  They would need to reflect on all the Saturday soccer games as kids and oranges at halftime, the hours on hours of practice and preparation, the desire to keep focused and compete – regardless of the heat and fatigue.  They would have to hold on!

The game went to extra time as regulation found the USA and Brazilians all tied up at 1 goal apiece.  Brazil got an early goal in extra time to move 2-1.  At this point, it would have been easy for team USA to simply bail out and lean on the bummer calls that led to this scenario.  There were millions of viewers that had watched the Americans get screwed and which all would have said “that was unfair”, “they should have won”, etc.   Is that the American way?  Is that what true competitors do?  Nope.  Not the USA.  Instead of throwing their hands up and giving into the misfortune, they ran… they passed and they competed.  Then, when it looked as though the clock was against us and the final sands of time would bring an end to the USA dreams of a World Cup….. magic happened.

In a final run, the Americans took the ball the length of the field and a final crossing pass from the left wing soared through the air with millions glued to the tv.  The pass seemed too long… way too difficult to be handled.  Then, in what felt like slow motion, Abby Wombach left her feet and directed a header into the back of the net.  WHAT???  DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?  I was standing by this time, and even after seeing what just happened, it took several seconds for the reality to set in.  With only seconds remaining in the life of the Americans run at the cup, we prevailed!  Score:  2-2! 

The end of extra time meant that on the 12 year anniversary of the 1999 USA team winning on penalty kicks and Brandi Chastain showing the world her 6-pack abs….  it would come down to penalty kicks once again.  Drama continuing to unfold.

5 kicks each.  Americans start off…..  GOAL.  Brazil answers with a goal.  Americans kick #2… GOAL.  Brazil answers.  Americans on third shot… GOAL.  Brazil on their attempt….. HOPE with a save!!!!  Not just a save, but a save where she was horizontal with the turf and completely extended!  It was art on the soccer field!  Now, fourth attempt for USA…. GOAL.  Brazil must make their shot to stay alive... they score.  Now, with the final penalty shot and a chance to overcome all the craziness of the day we line up for the decision-maker.  The final shot on goal for USA…..  GOAL!!!!!!!!!!! 

The Americans have done it.  They overcame so much and now race around the field with smiles, tears and fatigued muscles that have suddenly found just a little more strength to celebrate.  I am joining them in celebration with my arms raised high, standing in the middle of my living room all alone.  I didn’t have anyone to high-five.  It would have been weird to scream and yell in celebration with my fellow Americans so far away.  So I simply stood there, quiet and calm.  My arms raised high and my sense of pride in being an American fully flexed. 

What a game.  What a memory.  What a great example of the American spirit!  GO USA!!!!

A break from reality

We all get into a rhythm or a routine with our day to day operations and obligations of life.  I think instead, it should be referred to as a funk.

We have responsibilities surrounding work, family, kids practice, dinner menus, bills, lawn care, laundry, vehicle maintenance, kids homework and occasionally some mysterious “honey-do’s” that find their way into the agenda.  It’s a significant load to carry.  So each of us finds a routine that ensures we’re hitting on all of these areas with the number of hours available to us in the day.  But when do we get a break?  When and how can we break the cycle?  It isn’t always easy, but it should be a HIGH priority on your list of things to control.

This past weekend, I took a Friday off from “the man” and went up to a friend’s cabin in Winter Park for a long weekend.   Along for the trek were my wife and boys,  mom and dad, and brother and his family.  An escape from the hustle and bustle of our daily grind was severely needed.  When we arrived to the cabin that was surrounded by pine trees, big blue skies and a noticeable absence of meetings and rush hour traffic, it was easy to take a deep breath and RELAX.  Quickly, a chair was pulled up on the deck and a Corona popped open.  The kids off to explore and my wife and I soaking in the sun, the cocktails and the calm.

As the family arrived later that afternoon to join us, we filled our time with conversation and laughter.  There wasn’t a TV blaring Spongebob Squarepants or any serial killer neighbors sunbathing atop their trampoline (I know, right?).  There was just family and relaxation.  Our only agenda for the weekend was to not have an agenda.  We would forget about the reality of our normal chaos and just enjoy the time away and cuss those that get to have this lifestyle daily.  Saturday brought a day of golf on a course that greeted us with green grass, challenging holes and the need for sunscreen.  My dad, brother and I had the kind of day you wish you could repeat.  The beer cart was timely and never left us high and dry.  The brat at the turn was splendid.  The missed 6 foot birdie putts didn’t seem to hurt as much.  It was a magical day.

After golf, what to do?  Ahh, such an easy question to answer as the solution was to have yet another Corona or two while enjoying the Colorado scene from the deck of the cabin.  The kids continued to explore nature, looking for dinosaur bones or a bear.  Either would be sweet.  Still no television.  As the afternoon turned to evening, the grill was started up and steaks that obviously came straight from heaven found their way to the grills surface.  The sizzle and smoke poured from the vents and let us know that life was indeed good.  I mean really, picture yourself right this minute sitting outside in 78 degree weather, shorts and flip-flops,  Corona in hand and the grill working its magic over in the corner.  Can’t beat that, can ya?  Sure… I could have added in a masseuse named Natalia that was there in a bikini to rub out all the soreness from golf, but didn’t want to make it too crazy. 

My point is this – we shouldn’t have to wait for the perfect time to take a vacation that is fully planned out and orchestrated.  Sure, those should exist as well…. But I think we should look for many more mini-vacations that are easy to knock out, don’t require much cash or planning, but time away from our funk that rejuvenates us and charges our batteries.  We can’t do it all the time, but I’m guessing we can do it a lot more than we do.  Let’s not allow too much time to pass us by and then realize we didn’t carve out time for ourselves and our family.  Make the  time and make the plans.  If you can’t get a Friday off from work – QUIT!  Get yourself in a position where you can have a better balance of work and life because I’m here to tell ya that the “life” part of that statement is much more fun than the “work” part. 

Find your cabin.  Find your Corona and grill full of steaks.  Make a plan now to enjoy the other side of things because work can wait!!!  

Snoring pains....

For years I have fought it.  I have denied it and even accused my wife of making up these hideous accusations.  Snoring?  No way, I don’t snore.  I have yet to see any real proof of the horrendous sounds she claims keep her up at night.  It can’t be so….  No proof.  My grandpa – now THAT is a snorer!!!  Doesn’t matter if it’s a little cat nap in the chair at 2:00pm or full fledge 2:00am sleeping in bed…. He can make things rattle. 

Occasionally, I will wake up in the morning with a pain in my ribs.  Sometimes the pain is more in the spleen area and there have been times where mysterious bruises appear on my back.  Now what in the heck is happening at night to cause these injuries?  Am I having a dream where I’m a rugby player?  Or maybe I’m a firefighter that is saving numerous children and old people amidst extreme danger?  I suppose there’s a chance I was having a nightmare where I was stuck in a locked room with Oprah and there was only one donut left and we are left to battle it out?   Hummm… don’t think so.  My wife has come clean.  She informed me that I am a pretty talented snorer while enjoying my REM sessions at night.  So when I snore, she “gently” nudges me to have me roll over or change positions in hopes of silencing the roar.  Again, still no actual proof of snoring.

“Gentle nudges” resulting in bruising and soreness.  I believe she is taking advantage of me at night – and not in a good way – with kicks, elbows, hammers, spears and possibly angry badgers.  She knows I would sleep through a hurricane that blew out all the windows in the house.  She uses that knowledge to abuse me in my sleep.  Is she mad that I didn’t do the dishes or didn’t mow the lawn in that cool pattern and simply leveraging this “snoring” thing to have an excuse to beat the crap out of me at night?

So yesterday, she comes in with a box of the strips that you apply to your nose to open up the airwaves.  The snoring solution.  I think it is still just a cover up in case she has to tell her story to the judge.  She can show receipts of the sleep aide, claiming that she was only trying to help.  So I go along with her little charade and start to put on the breathe right strip.  It’s the “DELUXE” model which has four strips in one and looks kinda like a parachutte.  I start to peel the backing off, glancing at the pictures to ensure that I’m doing it correctly.  Apparently I should have actually read the instructions as I peeled the entire casing off which left me with a double-sided sticky…. I mean STICKY – butterfly looking thing.  Thinking to myself, “this is stooped… how can this thing work?  It’s sure to get stuck on the pillow with this oppressive material that was likely used to patch up any holes on the Space Shuttle!”.  So out of frustration I tell her that I will not continue with the application of the nose sling and just sleep in the guest room. 

She then calmly grabs another, peels off the correct amount of stuff and then viola, it is how it’s supposed to be.  So I apply the contraption to my nose which instantly feels like someone poked me in each eye… yet my nasal passages have never felt so free.  I look hideous.  Kinda like I have a broken nose as my nostrils are now 3 times their normal size and other parts of my nose appear smooshed.  As I stroll over to the bed, climb in and test this puppy out,  I feel good.  I look stooped, but feel good.  I think I slept like a rock, waking up happy and without headache. 

As I quietly climb out of bed this morning, I see some unused ear plugs on the nightstand by my sleeping bride.  Humm….  Could it be that this nose jacket did some good last night??  Nah, I’m not a snorer and there’s no proof to the contrary….  Although I will say that all of my ribs are intact, there isn’t any bruising and I didn’t have to limp to the shower.  Nah…  I’m not a snorer!!!!

Dogs in need of a MUTE button!

You know that awesome feeling when you’re sitting out on your deck, sippin’ on a nice cocktail and taking in the outdoors?  What a nice feeling that is.  The sun landing on your skin and maybe a cool breeze weaving through your mullet.  Your breaths getting longer and deeper with a calm coming over you that almost takes you to the land of zzzz’s.  Then, BARK - BARK—BARKBARKBARK – Yip-BARK!!!   What the?!?

From next door, a pair of canines that are outside for potty time or maybe exercise?  Maybe it’s because the neighbors are complete tools that have no respect for those living in the ‘hood?  The dogs are bouncing around the backyard, barking at nobody or nothing.  They aren’t barking at each other, or a rabbit or a jogger on the trail.  They are barking for the sole reason to tick off all the neighbors around them.  It’s working!!!  The noise if so disruptive that you find yourself having to retreat beyond the protection of the sliding glass door and double pane windows.  Where did that feeling of sun and relaxation go?  What the?!?

As you now find a book, movie or something to do indoors….  wait, you can’t escape the BARK - BARK—BARKBARKBARK – Yip-BARK!!!   Don’t get me wrong… I love me some dogs, but come on!  These dogs aren’t having fun and playing around.  They are just annoying little creatures looking to ruin your day whether you are indoors or out.  It just ain’t right.  And what about their owners?  You can’t tell me that they can’t hear this nonsense taking place only a handful of steps away from them.  Is it that they don’t care?  Have they suddenly lost their hearing which has resulted in some equilibrium issues that caused them to trip and fall, bonking their noodle on the fridge and blacking out?  That is the only excuse for allowing your four-legged family members to ruin the neighborhood. 

So what to do…..  Yes, I already considered simply opening their gate and test the ability to later find their way home.  Do I knock on the neighbors door and then kick them right in “the goods”, then explain why I did so?  I can’t call the cops cause that would distract the public protectors from their real jobs of ticketing those without seat belts.  I know, the best thing to do is simply go and talk with the neighbors.  I should probably NOT start off with a question, “Are you frickin’ deaf?” and then follow that up with, “or are you just an idiot that thinks they somehow became the King of Smith Road?”  You see… these neighbors have already shown some inability to relate to reality.  My confidence level in their sense of right and wrong is about equal to my confidence in the Washington Generals beating the Harlem Globetrotters.  It isn’t gonna happen.  So, I think I will get creative and make a game of it.  Maybe have some friends over and see how many hints we can drop that go completely unnoticed.  Put a point system for the hints to the neighbor… written =3pts, spray painting messages to their car = 10pts, and then burning the message into their lawn with gasoline… well, I think we have a winner.

It’s just frustration and annoying.  I will find a solution for this issue where no dog is harmed…. Although I can’t say the same for the tool on the other end of the leash.

Cat talk....

No, I don’t mean the big, beautiful and ferocious cats of the jungle that glimmer with Bengal stripes.  No, not talking about the elite athletes at the University of Arizona either (everyone bow down to Steve Kerr).   Instead, I speak of the cats that roam neighborhood houses and peer out from window sills across America.  The pets. 

I know the question often times posed is, “are you a dog or a cat person?”.  Great question to ask as I think you can gain much insight about a person based on their response.  Still, I shall not judge the cat folk of the land but will tell you that I have a Golden Retriever.  J  Cats aren’t dogs.  Cats aren’t fish.  And cats aren’t lizards.  I know, stay with me……  There are many pets that can enrich your lives, but if you’re pondering the path that best fits you and your personality, then follow along.

Cats are evil.  Sorry, but there isn’t a better way to summarize.  They wander the halls of your family home with an occasional rub up against your leg which is completely misleading.  While watching Back to the Future (everyone bow down to Michael J. Fox) on your comfy couch, the cat will unexpectedly pounce up to your lap which will force you to automatically release a wee bit of urine.  Then, when you get your heart rate back down, the cat will let loose a muffled purr and maybe even deliver a wink of “affection”.  As you feed little “Jo-Jo”, he will happily bounce over to the dish and make the cutest little sounds as it munches down some nibble.  These are the things that cat owners love.  (minus the unwanted urine release)

Cats will not come when you call them.  They may not even acknowledge you.  You will find yourself wondering if they are deaf or did you do something wrong?  Know that it’s not you, it’s them!  They don’t love you, they just love that you bought that stooped climby thing made of carpet that looks so great in your family room.  They love that you feed them and that they don’t have to run around battling the elements to kill their dinner while trying to appear so fluffy and adorable.  They will turn on you in an instant.  Don’t believe me??  Just take a deep look into a cat’s eyes, and if you squint, you can almost see the evil staring back at you.  They are great jumpers, so when they do turn, they will bring out those sharp little claws and climb your leg en route to your face.  They know your weakness and they are swift. 

The feline is a complicated beast that sends mixed messages, much like spouses.   Oops, sorry babe.  They lure you into a sense of comfort and complacency only to spring on you to remind you of their superior instinct and killing ability.  Do you know of another animal that has 9 lives?  Nope.  That means they take risks that most animals won’t as they know they have a mulligan if needed.  Cats are best suited for cartoons (thank you Tom and Jerry) and for little desk calendars that you give your office manager. 

So, if you have learned nothing at all from this little message, please know that cats aren’t your friends.  They are evil beasts willing to snap at any moment and burn one of their 9 lives to keep you guessing.  Oh, and you’ve been warned about the involuntary releasing of urine (it is embarrassing).

What will we do without Oprah?

First it’s this whole ‘Rapture’ thing that has everyone on edge… well, at least those that have pet rocks named Frank, struggle with application of ketchup to a hot dog and seem to bonk their noggins a little more frequently than the rest of us.  Now, the clock has struck “See Ya” for Oprah.  A nation that has followed her interviews, book clubs and celebrity guests will search for answers on Thursday morning.  A nation will wonder what they should read, who they should follow on Twitter and how they are supposed to talk to their children without her guidance and wisdom.

So here is where any Oprah followers start to bad-mouth me and wish for bird droppings to find their way to my clean car.   Oprah is GONE!!  Cue the celebrations and festive music.  Bust out 34 lbs of macaroni and cheese!  Hop up on the couch and jump around like a mad scientologist!!!  The day has come for rejoice and freedom!!!!

I know, I know…. She has truly done some amazing things with her celebrity and  her wallet.  I won’t challenge that some good has come from her presence and she has influenced some for the better and helped many that couldn’t help themselves.  There.  I’ve said some nice things that will hopefully result in some birds missing their target (see car reference above).   But now I get to share with you my thoughts… hold on tight…

Oprah is a fake.  She has convinced her ‘Oprah cult’ that she is genuine and pure.  Boo.  Her interviews are self-indulgent and filled with Oprah moments and control.  She is a powerhouse resulting from incredible marketing power and a following of moms, sisters and BFFs that drink up all the guidance she spoon feeds.  I find it very convenient that media is just readily available and prepared for the massive charity events.  Great that she’s making change for people – but why does there need to be a media blitz around it?  I think the genuine heroes are those that do things for people, countries, charities, etc while remaining quiet.  No need for the ego pump and audience approval/ratings, just doing great things quietly.

I have accidently found myself stuck on the channel that delivers the Oprah experience, and can’t believe her reactions and emotions are truly heart-felt.  She’s an actress that has the ability to cry when she is supposed to, laugh where she needs to laugh and give that “engaging” peer into the audience.  To make certain that her followers are truly following, she gives them little gifts – “You get a car, you get a car, you get a car…” or the Travolta led flight to Australia.  You think that is just cause she’s a nice person, or might there be some interest in sticking those cool, unsuspecting Australians with the Oprah epi pen that fills them with the oh-la-la’s?

Another thing to consider…. Isn’t this the woman who gave us Dr. Phil and Rachel Ray?  Ouch.  I think I’d rather have a mysterious itch and four noses on my face then have to sit through a Phil lecture or Rachel feast.  Come on now!

I have quit grocery shopping as I simply can’t’ make it through the line without The O mocking me from the cover of her magazine.  (yes wife, that is why I can’t grocery shop).  I know she has a new network all to herself and I have called my cable provider, offering to pay an additional monthly fee to ensure that channel is blocked from my programming.  In fact, I’m in discussions for an anti-Oprah network all of my own.  Yep, think I might call it “O Yes I Did!”.

So tomorrow we shall celebrate.  Join me with a raise of the glass when the regular timeslot for the Oprah show is instead playing ‘Alice’ reruns.  A great day for the nation.  To the Oprah followers that will be wearing black and kicking around an empty can…. Stay positive.  Read what you want to read.  Time will return your own thoughts to you.  Stay confident knowing that you truly can navigate this crazy world without the couch control of Ms. Winfrey.  

Toodle-loo Oprah!

Kids Sports – What to do??

               

I don’t know about where you live, but here in the Denver area, youth sports is extreme. 

As a father, I want to do what is best for my boys and make sure they are given every opportunity to whip someone’s butt on the field or the court.  I want to be the supportive, informative, encouraging, challenging and their biggest fan.  I think I have all of those check marks in place.  Still, I’m reaching a point with my oldest (11) where some kids are starting to peel off and become one-sport dudes.  What is that about?  Remember back in the day when we would walk right from the final football practice to the basketball gym to pick up our stuff and get up and down the court?  Then, from the gym to the diamond to get some BP in and join the baseball movement.  Are the days of three sport athletes a thing of the past?

Come on…  really?  Football teaches you pain, struggle, strategy and physical endurance.  It also teaches you that if you don’t wash your undershirt for a few weeks, when you pull it off the hook in your locker…. It doesn’t even move – stiff as a board.  Basketball gets your lungs developed.  It works the finer athletic movement.  Baseball, a game of patience and readiness that matures your hand-eye coordination.  All of these sports teaches strategy and teamwork.  So tell me, what is wrong with that?

In the Denver area, I’m learning there are “Baseball Kids”, “Lacrosse Kids”, “Hockey Kids”, etc.  I coach Pop Warner football in the fall and now I’m seeing that some kids are staying with a year round sport so they don’t fall behind.  Baseball kids are traveling all over the country, lugging around the custom Under Armor bat bag that is embroidered with their name and number.  Parents dishing out thousands of dollars a year in support of the kids’ dream…. Or is that a parents’ dream.  Are we trying to develop D1 athletes at 9, 10 and 11 years old?  Should we narrow the exposure to other sports in the name of scholarship?

I think not.

What about my son who plays lacrosse, football and baseball.  If he continues down that path, what happens when he rejoins his LAX buddies who do nothing more that LAX all year long?  Will he be behind in skill and talent?  Will he be able to compete?  From my seat – OF COURSE HE WILL!  He will lean on the drills, practices, discipline and skills developed in the other sports to offer something the one sport kiddos might miss out on.  How ya like that?  Also, what about burnout?  Will a little fella play a few seasons of nothing but baseball and then find that he is sick of it and simply can’t think about another handful of sunflower seeds?  Wishing that he would have been able to play some hoops or ski or anything else back when he had a chance to?

It is a tough question to answer and one that I keep asking myself.  I feel I have the right approach in my desire to expose my boys to anything and everything they want.  If the time comes where they have a significant passion for a sport and want to focus only on that sport… have at it.  I believe it’s the parents’ job to allow kids to be kids.  There is plenty of time for extreme competitive sports as kids mature and they only have one childhood.  But really, what do I know?

So with that, I’m guessing my kid can whoop your kid!  J  Only jokin’.