This past weekend, I took my kids for their official Santa Claus visit. I say “official” because they’d already encountered Santa or his helpers several times. Some talked to the kids while others merely handed them a candy cane. Santa and/or his helpers have had many accents, skin tones and beard styles. It’s been a challenge to explain why there are so many Santas, but I finally told my children that any one could be the real Santa, so they have to treat each as if they were. It’s his way of making sure they’re nice.
This is just one of many explanations I’ve had to add to the Santa mystique. When my kids were born some 6 ½ years ago, I never knew there would be so many twists, turns and variations to the basic philosophy of Kris Kringle. Luckily, some of the Christmas specials explain much of the Santa Legend. “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and “Polar Express” are probably two of the best at explaining flying reindeer and treks down the chimney, but two years ago, I ran into a situation that no Rankin/Bass animated special could explain.
We had completed our “Official” Santa visit about 30 minutes before his final shift ended. After the big event, we grabbed a bite to eat in the mall. Towards the end of our meal, who to our wandering eyes should appear walking across the Food Court with coat thrown over his arm, but Santa, himself. He tossed a smile, waved back at the kids and walked out the door. The kids watched his trail through the window, hoping to see eight tiny reindeer (or possibly nine) launching into the night sky. Instead, they spotted the red capped gentleman stepping into a red 1983 Ford Pinto and driving away. Confusion set into their tiny faces.
My wife and I stared in horror. After all, we’d convinced the kids that this was indeed the REAL Santa. We glanced at one another and I could tell we were both thinking “Maybe they didn’t notice.” Then I felt the tug and looked at my son’s quizzical look.
“Daddy, where are the reindeer?” My mind quickly filed through the previous years’ explanations of all things Santa…trying to confirm that what I was about to say didn’t conflict with previously stated “fact.”
And then I responded, “At a farm…the mall is no place to keep reindeer with all the cars and such. And there’s no food on the roof of the mall to keep them fed ALL day. So they keep the reindeer at a farm.” We got up, tossed our scraps and headed for the parking lot in pondering silence. Another tug.
“But why is he driving a beat-up old car like that?”
“Well, if he drove a fancy car, he’d attract a lot of attention and everyone would follow him around. If people followed him, they’d find out where the reindeer are and maybe feed them some bad food or something.”
“Like in the movie ‘The Santa Clause 2?’”
Ah…a holiday classic once again came to safe the day! “Yes, remember Comet got sick on candy? The same thing could happen if people fed them the wrong food.” We got into our car and buckled the children in. My wife and I climbed in and we drove towards our home. The ride was silent except for holiday music serenading us from the radio.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad we saw Santa tonight and told him what we wanted. But next year, I’m going to wish for Santa a better car.”
Merry Christmas everyone.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Politic-Al Thoughts
It’s not very often that I share my political views. And to be honest, I’m really not planning to share many now. I’ll admit that I moderately lean to the left, and I’ll leave it at that. But the intent of my comments here is not to persuade you to vote one way or the other, but merely to share some mostly unbiased observations. What I do care about is that you vote…no matter your candidate. Failure to vote takes away any right you have to complain about the politicians in office. Now who wants to forfeit their right to complain?
I have to admit that I’ve a Palin watcher. No, I’m not going to vote for her ticket, but I find the media coverage of her every move fascinating. But what I find even more intriguing is that there is finally a "soccer mom" vying for a significant national office. Women in their 30’s and 40’s rule this country. Really. Whether as a wife or mother, these women serve as home managers better than any man probably could. It only makes sense that one is finally hitting the big time to help manage the country. Hillary never struck me as the "soccer mom" type. Margaret Thatcher and Madeleine Albright certainly did not fit the bill. It’s not because Sarah Palin is more attractive than the others I mention; it’s just that she seems to fit in that neighborhood PTA lady, girl-scout leader mold more comfortably. Again, her politics are not going to earn my vote, but she represents a long-ignored and very significant portion of our population. I hope to see more women take the national spotlight in the future.
Barack Obama has the easiest name to belch than any other presidential candidate in history. “Ba-Raaaaaack”
Did anyone else notice that John McCain did not look at Barack Obama once during the first debate? Despite the moderator asking the candidates to talk to one another, McCain continued to talk to the camera and audience.
I find it interesting that incumbent politicians are claiming that they’ve opposed current unpopular legislation, or proposed favorable legislation that Congress or whomever shot down. That tells me that the incumbent wasn’t very effective or influential to be able to pass the more favorable proposals. I’d suggest trying someone else.
I have a female friend that stated, during the primary season, that she couldn’t believe anyone would ever vote for a female for president. She blatantly told me during the primaries that she could never ever vote for a woman and planned to vote Republican this year. I have to wonder if she’s still going to vote that way now that Palin shared the presidential ticket, or if “never vote for a woman” actually meant “never vote for Hillary.”
Speaking of female candidates, Elizabeth Dole is running for re-election as Senator in North Carolina. I have one question. Where the hell is Bob Dole? He hasn’t been seen once during the campaign.
Political advertisements actually make me miss the obnoxious car dealership commercials.
Vote. Just do it. It matters. Especially this year.
I have to admit that I’ve a Palin watcher. No, I’m not going to vote for her ticket, but I find the media coverage of her every move fascinating. But what I find even more intriguing is that there is finally a "soccer mom" vying for a significant national office. Women in their 30’s and 40’s rule this country. Really. Whether as a wife or mother, these women serve as home managers better than any man probably could. It only makes sense that one is finally hitting the big time to help manage the country. Hillary never struck me as the "soccer mom" type. Margaret Thatcher and Madeleine Albright certainly did not fit the bill. It’s not because Sarah Palin is more attractive than the others I mention; it’s just that she seems to fit in that neighborhood PTA lady, girl-scout leader mold more comfortably. Again, her politics are not going to earn my vote, but she represents a long-ignored and very significant portion of our population. I hope to see more women take the national spotlight in the future.
Barack Obama has the easiest name to belch than any other presidential candidate in history. “Ba-Raaaaaack”
Did anyone else notice that John McCain did not look at Barack Obama once during the first debate? Despite the moderator asking the candidates to talk to one another, McCain continued to talk to the camera and audience.
I find it interesting that incumbent politicians are claiming that they’ve opposed current unpopular legislation, or proposed favorable legislation that Congress or whomever shot down. That tells me that the incumbent wasn’t very effective or influential to be able to pass the more favorable proposals. I’d suggest trying someone else.
I have a female friend that stated, during the primary season, that she couldn’t believe anyone would ever vote for a female for president. She blatantly told me during the primaries that she could never ever vote for a woman and planned to vote Republican this year. I have to wonder if she’s still going to vote that way now that Palin shared the presidential ticket, or if “never vote for a woman” actually meant “never vote for Hillary.”
Speaking of female candidates, Elizabeth Dole is running for re-election as Senator in North Carolina. I have one question. Where the hell is Bob Dole? He hasn’t been seen once during the campaign.
Political advertisements actually make me miss the obnoxious car dealership commercials.
Vote. Just do it. It matters. Especially this year.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Cracking a Smile, China Style
Did you see the Opening Ceremony of the Beijing Olympic Games? Admittedly, they were spectacular to watch, but did anyone else sense a “cult-like” feel to the presentation? The commentators on television mentioned that the synchronous performance of the 2,008 drummers was a bit intimidating during rehearsals, so the producers encouraged the drummers to smile more. This reminded me of my trip to Beijing back in 1986.
My travel companions and I found ourselves at the Beijing Hotel seeking an English-speaking guide. After having endured a 36-hour ride in a rather dirty train from Guangzhou to Beijing, we were hungry and thirsty. All we had consumed on the ride was warm beer and M&M’s. If you had seen the dining car, you would have understood why. The Beijing Hotel offered an oasis…a sundries shop with recognizable food and drink.
I can’t recall what we ordered, but as each of us placed an order at the counter, the clerk would stare coldly, then crack a smile, which looked more like a grimace, and then turn to fetch our order. Once he returned with the natural cold stare, he’d hand us a drink or food item, crack that same forced smile, and return to his work. I swear I could hear his skin crackle from the nature of his strained expression. We asked the guide what was going on and she explained that the Beijing “authorities” were encouraging all service workers to smile more so as to appear more warmly towards Western tourists.
During the next few days, we encountered a few “real” smiles from passers-by, but not once did I encounter a worker in a restaurant or shop that seemed genuinely happy. Of course, such folks have bad days here in the US, but it was obvious to me that many people in China simply did not have happy lives.
Simply speaking, freedom contributes to happiness. We were in a communist country in which the same freedoms didn’t exist as they did in the US. And they apparently still don’t.
I read in the paper this morning that the young girl who sang so beautifully in the same opening ceremony didn’t sing at all. Another girl actually sang the words, but she was deemed as being not cute enough to represent China to the world. A government official selected a more visually pleasing child (in his opinion) to sing the music. Unbeknownst to this pretty young performer, her microphone was shut off and the words of the "ugly girl" were heard by the world. It was stated that this was done in “the nation’s best interest.”
Calling any child “ugly” is just wrong, especially when the singing child in fact was as cute as any other child. Doing so in the nation’s best interest is simply imposing the government’s will on the people. This is not freedom. This is not happiness.
Twenty-two years ago, a clerk smiled at me in the most painful way. Drummers smiled for billions of people on television the other night so as not to be intimidating. I’ve met real people in China and they are beautiful people indeed. But until the government let’s go of their hold and allows true freedom, the people will never be truly happy.
My travel companions and I found ourselves at the Beijing Hotel seeking an English-speaking guide. After having endured a 36-hour ride in a rather dirty train from Guangzhou to Beijing, we were hungry and thirsty. All we had consumed on the ride was warm beer and M&M’s. If you had seen the dining car, you would have understood why. The Beijing Hotel offered an oasis…a sundries shop with recognizable food and drink.
I can’t recall what we ordered, but as each of us placed an order at the counter, the clerk would stare coldly, then crack a smile, which looked more like a grimace, and then turn to fetch our order. Once he returned with the natural cold stare, he’d hand us a drink or food item, crack that same forced smile, and return to his work. I swear I could hear his skin crackle from the nature of his strained expression. We asked the guide what was going on and she explained that the Beijing “authorities” were encouraging all service workers to smile more so as to appear more warmly towards Western tourists.
During the next few days, we encountered a few “real” smiles from passers-by, but not once did I encounter a worker in a restaurant or shop that seemed genuinely happy. Of course, such folks have bad days here in the US, but it was obvious to me that many people in China simply did not have happy lives.
Simply speaking, freedom contributes to happiness. We were in a communist country in which the same freedoms didn’t exist as they did in the US. And they apparently still don’t.
I read in the paper this morning that the young girl who sang so beautifully in the same opening ceremony didn’t sing at all. Another girl actually sang the words, but she was deemed as being not cute enough to represent China to the world. A government official selected a more visually pleasing child (in his opinion) to sing the music. Unbeknownst to this pretty young performer, her microphone was shut off and the words of the "ugly girl" were heard by the world. It was stated that this was done in “the nation’s best interest.”
Calling any child “ugly” is just wrong, especially when the singing child in fact was as cute as any other child. Doing so in the nation’s best interest is simply imposing the government’s will on the people. This is not freedom. This is not happiness.
Twenty-two years ago, a clerk smiled at me in the most painful way. Drummers smiled for billions of people on television the other night so as not to be intimidating. I’ve met real people in China and they are beautiful people indeed. But until the government let’s go of their hold and allows true freedom, the people will never be truly happy.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Health Update
Many of my readers have asked how my health is…particularly my blood health. Well, it had been six months since I last had my blood levels checked. If you recall, the combination of medication and diet had an extraordinary effect to reducing my "bad" cholesterol and my triglycerides, while increasing my "good" cholesterol. However, I was a little skeptical prior to my most recent appointment last week.
Before my appointment six months ago, I went on a pretty strict low-carb diet. I limited myself from almost anything "fun" to eat, such as breads, cookies, pizzas, pastas and (gasp) M&M’s. But the effort was worth it. My total cholesterol was cut in half and my doctor stood dumbfounded in front of me for my success. Since then, I haven’t been so disciplined.
The holiday season came and went with the usual sweet temptations. I resisted pretty well and only ate an occasional cookie. Then came Valentine’s Day with all the chocolate temptations. Finally, Easter reared its ugly ears as jelly beans and chocolates danced teasingly in front of my taste buds. I’ll admit that I had to sample a few here and there.
My kids started karate and gymnastics after school on Thursdays and it became difficult to find time to cook a nice meal. Bojangles, Jersey Mike’s or McDonald’s seemed to be the offering of the evening on such busy evenings. And then there is pizza. Probably my weakest moments were when I was confronted with pepperoni pizza. I had to have a slice here and there…and occasionally over there.
So, as you can see, my diet was not nearly as strict as before. Still, I have to admit that my pizza indulgences were much less than in the old days. In many cases, I chose to enjoy only two slices rather than the old three or four. The candy was always merely sampled and I haven’t bought a four-pound bag of M&M’s (to be consumed within 3 days) in many many months. To use a cliché, the key is moderation.
Well, along with moderation should come a bevy of will power. I’m not sure many people could sample one french fry and not be tempted to eat a whole bag. Luckily, I’ve had such will power. Maybe it’s because I was always such a picky eater and a nibbler in my younger days (a trait my daughter now frustratingly seems to have inherited). But I’ve found that when I have a craving for a french fry or macaroni and cheese, I can simply take a bite of what’s left over from my kids’ meal…usually from my daughter’s plate…and be satisfied with only that one tasting.
I guess moderation is the key to my diet…or as I’ve said in the past, my lifestyle. (A side note…South Beach has changed the name of their entrees and wraps from "South Beach Diet" to "South Beach Living." I think that maybe I should have copyrighted the "lifestyle" label.) But is moderation enough?
I received the blood results this morning, and I’m happy to report that, yes, it is enough. Although my triglycerides were up slightly from 107 to 112, it’s still well below the recommended maximum of 150. My "good" cholesterol improved from 60 to 62 and my "bad" cholesterol reduced further from 57 to 45. In fact, the only concern that my doctor had was that my "bad" cholesterol was a little too low now. As a result, he’s cutting my Zocor dosage in half. I was hoping he’s prescribe a Big Mac a day, but no such luck.
Needless to say, I’m pretty happy. I’ve been able to integrate my favorite foods back into my diet without falling off the wagon. I still do not consume cereal and orange juice for breakfast, but instead have a low sodium V8 and either oatmeal or an omelet. My lunches are primarily South Beach wraps, or a sandwich using whole wheat bread, and a salad. I eat fish at least once or twice a week, and when we do order out, I choose the smarter menu choices. And lastly, I haven’t had a drink of alcohol in over nine months. Even my consumption of non-alcoholic beer is limited to less than one a week.
I’ll continue to keep you posted on my blood health as well as any other related issues. But again, thanks for the moral support in the beginning and thanks for continuing to inquire.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Knowing Denny
When I started to date my wife nearly 14 years ago, I had to eventually face a major obstacle: meeting her dad. I had met her mom when I first met my wife at a university alumni function (should I even say I met my wife and her mom in a bar?). But of course, meeting "the dad" is always a different thing entirely. After all, I was dating his little girl and, well, you know the anxieties of a father (and I'm beginning to dread those same anxieties as my daughter grows older).
I'm happy to say that the initial meeting and all subsequent meetings since have gone very well. Wayne is an entertaining and humorous guy with a good head on his shoulders. He was very personable and made me feel like part of the family from the beginning. In fact, it wasn't long that I found myself invited within a most sacred of groups: his golfing foursome.
I can't recall exactly the first time I joined him golfing or the circumstances as to how I was invited. But I'm sure that we golfed together with two other gentlemen that made up our foursome for many outings. Krish was Wayne's next door neighbor and eventually became friends enough with me to be apart of our wedding party. He also had a great sense of humor and loved the movie "Blazing Saddles" which is probably why we instantly connected. The fourth member of our group was Denny. He was a good friend of Wayne's from church and they shared the fact that they were both Pennsylvanian born and bred. Denny was a good guy as well, but I really didn't know him as well as the others.
What I do recall about Denny was his love of Rusty Wallace. I was never a NASCAR fan, although by proxy of living in North Carolina, I had to have some familiarity with the sport. Except for the more household names of the day, such as Jeff Gordon and the late Dale Earnhardt, I didn't really know much about the other drivers. But in golfing and associating with Denny, I eventually learned that Rusty's car number was "2," and that Miller Genuine Draft was his team sponsor. Whenever a hot golf day insisted on liquid refreshment, you can bet that Denny would buy a MGD for Rusty's sake.
Other than the occasional golf encounter, I would sometimes see Denny and his wife at church (back when we attended church regularly...is that thunder I just heard?) His wife Jean has a remarkable sense of humor and is a beacon of light to all that know her. She's always involved in church and social activities, and it is always a pleasure to make her laugh. I knew that Denny had to be a good guy to have such a good wife.
After my kids grew out of their cribs and into "big" beds, we sold the crib furniture to Jean and her expectant daughter. "Sold" seems like a harsh word because there's definitely an emotional attachment to such furniture: the nights of kids crying and the subsequent soothing, the bouncing of happy faces in the cribs, and the eventually tumbling out after the first adventurous climb. So rather than say they we "sold" them the furniture, I suppose it's more accurate to say that we "entrusted" them with the furniture. Denny's family is worthy of such trust.
Denny passed away last night after an extended illness. And even though the golfing expeditions stopped long ago (Krish got married and moved, I had kids, etc.), it will feel a little different the next time I grab the clubs. In as little as I really knew and socialized with Denny, I'll still miss him. He was a gentleman of goodness overall, and an accompaniment of good times for me.
Here's to you Denny, and may your angel's wings be adorned with the number 2.
I'm happy to say that the initial meeting and all subsequent meetings since have gone very well. Wayne is an entertaining and humorous guy with a good head on his shoulders. He was very personable and made me feel like part of the family from the beginning. In fact, it wasn't long that I found myself invited within a most sacred of groups: his golfing foursome.
I can't recall exactly the first time I joined him golfing or the circumstances as to how I was invited. But I'm sure that we golfed together with two other gentlemen that made up our foursome for many outings. Krish was Wayne's next door neighbor and eventually became friends enough with me to be apart of our wedding party. He also had a great sense of humor and loved the movie "Blazing Saddles" which is probably why we instantly connected. The fourth member of our group was Denny. He was a good friend of Wayne's from church and they shared the fact that they were both Pennsylvanian born and bred. Denny was a good guy as well, but I really didn't know him as well as the others.
What I do recall about Denny was his love of Rusty Wallace. I was never a NASCAR fan, although by proxy of living in North Carolina, I had to have some familiarity with the sport. Except for the more household names of the day, such as Jeff Gordon and the late Dale Earnhardt, I didn't really know much about the other drivers. But in golfing and associating with Denny, I eventually learned that Rusty's car number was "2," and that Miller Genuine Draft was his team sponsor. Whenever a hot golf day insisted on liquid refreshment, you can bet that Denny would buy a MGD for Rusty's sake.
Other than the occasional golf encounter, I would sometimes see Denny and his wife at church (back when we attended church regularly...is that thunder I just heard?) His wife Jean has a remarkable sense of humor and is a beacon of light to all that know her. She's always involved in church and social activities, and it is always a pleasure to make her laugh. I knew that Denny had to be a good guy to have such a good wife.
After my kids grew out of their cribs and into "big" beds, we sold the crib furniture to Jean and her expectant daughter. "Sold" seems like a harsh word because there's definitely an emotional attachment to such furniture: the nights of kids crying and the subsequent soothing, the bouncing of happy faces in the cribs, and the eventually tumbling out after the first adventurous climb. So rather than say they we "sold" them the furniture, I suppose it's more accurate to say that we "entrusted" them with the furniture. Denny's family is worthy of such trust.
Denny passed away last night after an extended illness. And even though the golfing expeditions stopped long ago (Krish got married and moved, I had kids, etc.), it will feel a little different the next time I grab the clubs. In as little as I really knew and socialized with Denny, I'll still miss him. He was a gentleman of goodness overall, and an accompaniment of good times for me.
Here's to you Denny, and may your angel's wings be adorned with the number 2.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Because I'm a Parent
Sometimes, things take place that defy any explanation other than, "because I’m a parent."
Because I’m a parent, my morning routine is usually a hectic one. As with most mornings, my wife got up before me today at around 5:30 in the morning and took her shower. After losing yet another battle with the snooze button, I got up and made the bed as she washed, relieved myself at the toilet, and then stood bleary-eyed on the scales while the morning news blared from the television. Luckily I got the order right once again. Once she got out of the shower, I entered and felt a bit of life return to my body as I escaped to within the warmth of the shower. The moment was brief though as my morning routine had only just begun.
Because I’m a parent, I rushed out of the shower, combed my hair and applied deodorant. My wife will usually have selected the kid’s outfits by now, but on this morning she was feeling a little rough from a nasty cold, so I filled in her duties. I got dressed and ran into each child’s bedroom with a morning greeting and a flick of the light switch. My rebuttal was that of groans and heads tucked further beneath the covers. I offered up another cheerful and melodic salutation as I selected each outfit, followed by a more stern, but often repeated, "Come on guys, we’re running late!"
Because I’m a parent, I grabbed each kid’s shoes out of their respective closets and placed them at the top of the stairs. I then returned and made each bed as I heard the television station changed to the Disney channel. I issued another warning of "get dressed NOW" in my stern daddy-voice as I smoothed the last wrinkles from the Sleeping Beauty comforter in my daughter’s Princess-themed room. Returning to my room with combs, brush and detangling conditioner in hand, I found the pajamas spread somehow amongst the farthest corners of the room. Gathering her nightshirt and his pajamas, I tossed them in the hallway to remind me to take them to their rooms to fold. I shoved her panties in my pocket and clumsily started to spray my daughter’s hair with conditioner to straighten out her locks. His poker straight hair was a bit easier to comb, although his two cowlicks still defied my best head press.
Because I’m a parent, I barked out orders for each kid to head to the kitchen downstairs and to not forget their shoes. I grabbed the pajamas in the hall and quickly folded and placed each on the respective kid’s bed. Gathering my cell phone (used as my alarm), empty water glass, and hair-grooming tool, I juggled each item to the end of the hall where I picked up two pairs of shoes with the very tips of available fingers. I carried all items down stairs to the kitchen, dropped the shoes to the floor, placed the combs on the table and laid my phone isolated next to the re-charger. The Disney Channel crooned from the family room.
Because I’m a parent, I poured two glasses of orange juice and retrieved two Flintstones vitamins and laid them on the kitchen table. I tossed Cinnamon French Toaster Sticks (ONLY Aunt Jemima brand) into the microwave for my son and poured a bowl of "Daddy Cheerio’s" (Multigrain) into a bowl for my daughter. As the toaster sticks nuked, I poured coffee, V8 and more Daddy Cheerios for my wife and announced to the kids that their juice was on the table. The sticks being done, I placed grape jelly on one side of the pile and syrup on the other side, just as I do every day. Both breakfasts were placed on the table with an announcement that "breakfast is ready, so turn off the TV." I placed my wife’s breakfast, plus toast, on a tray and ran it to her back upstairs so that she could continue to get herself ready on time. Disney was still playing on our TV.
Because I’m a parent, I returned to the family room, turned off the TV and used the daddy-voice once again to urge the kids to the breakfast table. As I packed lunches, I answered the daily questions of "Is this Fred Flintstone?" "Which one has the mountain hair (Bam-Bam)?" "Is Dino a dog or a dinosaur?" and "Who ARE the Flintstones anyway?"
Because I’m a parent, I fixed my breakfast (Jimmy Dean omelet and bacon) last and ate it as I continued to pack the lunches and ensure I had the right homework in the right backpack. I poured my wife a travel mug full of coffee and placed her lunch by the door. As I packed my lunch, I noticed one child was missing and the other finger-painting a masterpiece on his plate with grape jelly. By some miracle, his shirt remained clean. The bathroom door closed and my daughter returned to the table, while announcing that the cat was making strange noises in the living room.
Because I’m a parent, I cleaned the cat barf off the carpet while barking orders to the kids to "PLEASE finish your breakfast and go brush your teeth." A blur ran by me with a recognizable voice saying, "gottagoluvyyahaveanicedaybye" and I swear I felt a kiss on my lips. I returned the near empty keg of pet stain remover and washed my hands as each child made their own interpretation of the earlier cat noises.
Because I’m a parent, I grabbed a plate of half-eaten toaster sticks and a near full bowl of Multigrain Cheerios and growled, "brush your teeth NOW" in my grizzliest of bear voices. Both kids ran to their bathroom as if their lives depended on it as I loaded the dishwasher and packed my briefcase. I eventually went back upstairs with comb, brush, and conditioner in hand to my own bedroom where I was greeted by the sounds of the Disney Channel. I ran an electric razor over my face, brushed my teeth, combed my hair and put on my shoes. I stuffed a wallet in one pocket and a handkerchief in another as I felt the sniffles coming on, having apparently been transferred in the earlier run-by kiss from my wife. I turned off the TV (finally) and found that my daughter was just starting to brush her teeth as a couple gallons of toothpaste-laden water drained from the sink from my sons’ tooth brushing. My growl had turned to a surrendering sigh and a plea to PLEASE hurry up.
Because I’m a parent, I helped my son tie his shoes in a proper double knot and handed him his jacket. I loaded my briefcase and lunch box into the car and clipped the now lifeless cell phone onto my belt. As the car warmed up, I returned inside the house and tied my daughter’s shoes and wiped the toothpaste off her mouth. She put on her jacket and both kids grabbed their backpacks and headed to the car. I turned out the lights, gave the cat a stare as he belched, and headed for the car myself. My kids teased me that I placed the wrong water bottles in their backpacks, so I corrected the error as they stared frozen and unable to comprehend they could have corrected this themselves.
Because I’m a parent, I drove carefully to the school despite running at least 15 minutes later than planned. I pulled up to the school, and reminded each child to give me a hug and kiss. I assured each that I loved them and that their mom would be picking them up after school. I watched the tikes walk into the big building in my rearview mirror as I drove off to work.
Because I’m a parent, I arrived at a workplace I enjoy, but sometimes wonder if it’s what I really want to do in my life. I looked at the photographs of my kids and their original artwork posted on my cubicle walls and realized, once again, that I do it for the kids, so they can have the things they need. My wife and I endure work, adult responsibilities and our own illnesses in order to give our children all that we can. Mentally recharged, I headed to the daily morning production meeting, at which I’m always expected a little late. I quietly walked in and took my place to lean against a side table when I felt the sniffles coming back. As I felt the sneeze rise, I reached for my handkerchief and let out a large sneeze.
And because I’m a parent, I stood before my colleagues with a pair of pink Cinderella panties pressed against my face.
Because I’m a parent, my morning routine is usually a hectic one. As with most mornings, my wife got up before me today at around 5:30 in the morning and took her shower. After losing yet another battle with the snooze button, I got up and made the bed as she washed, relieved myself at the toilet, and then stood bleary-eyed on the scales while the morning news blared from the television. Luckily I got the order right once again. Once she got out of the shower, I entered and felt a bit of life return to my body as I escaped to within the warmth of the shower. The moment was brief though as my morning routine had only just begun.
Because I’m a parent, I rushed out of the shower, combed my hair and applied deodorant. My wife will usually have selected the kid’s outfits by now, but on this morning she was feeling a little rough from a nasty cold, so I filled in her duties. I got dressed and ran into each child’s bedroom with a morning greeting and a flick of the light switch. My rebuttal was that of groans and heads tucked further beneath the covers. I offered up another cheerful and melodic salutation as I selected each outfit, followed by a more stern, but often repeated, "Come on guys, we’re running late!"
Because I’m a parent, I grabbed each kid’s shoes out of their respective closets and placed them at the top of the stairs. I then returned and made each bed as I heard the television station changed to the Disney channel. I issued another warning of "get dressed NOW" in my stern daddy-voice as I smoothed the last wrinkles from the Sleeping Beauty comforter in my daughter’s Princess-themed room. Returning to my room with combs, brush and detangling conditioner in hand, I found the pajamas spread somehow amongst the farthest corners of the room. Gathering her nightshirt and his pajamas, I tossed them in the hallway to remind me to take them to their rooms to fold. I shoved her panties in my pocket and clumsily started to spray my daughter’s hair with conditioner to straighten out her locks. His poker straight hair was a bit easier to comb, although his two cowlicks still defied my best head press.
Because I’m a parent, I barked out orders for each kid to head to the kitchen downstairs and to not forget their shoes. I grabbed the pajamas in the hall and quickly folded and placed each on the respective kid’s bed. Gathering my cell phone (used as my alarm), empty water glass, and hair-grooming tool, I juggled each item to the end of the hall where I picked up two pairs of shoes with the very tips of available fingers. I carried all items down stairs to the kitchen, dropped the shoes to the floor, placed the combs on the table and laid my phone isolated next to the re-charger. The Disney Channel crooned from the family room.
Because I’m a parent, I poured two glasses of orange juice and retrieved two Flintstones vitamins and laid them on the kitchen table. I tossed Cinnamon French Toaster Sticks (ONLY Aunt Jemima brand) into the microwave for my son and poured a bowl of "Daddy Cheerio’s" (Multigrain) into a bowl for my daughter. As the toaster sticks nuked, I poured coffee, V8 and more Daddy Cheerios for my wife and announced to the kids that their juice was on the table. The sticks being done, I placed grape jelly on one side of the pile and syrup on the other side, just as I do every day. Both breakfasts were placed on the table with an announcement that "breakfast is ready, so turn off the TV." I placed my wife’s breakfast, plus toast, on a tray and ran it to her back upstairs so that she could continue to get herself ready on time. Disney was still playing on our TV.
Because I’m a parent, I returned to the family room, turned off the TV and used the daddy-voice once again to urge the kids to the breakfast table. As I packed lunches, I answered the daily questions of "Is this Fred Flintstone?" "Which one has the mountain hair (Bam-Bam)?" "Is Dino a dog or a dinosaur?" and "Who ARE the Flintstones anyway?"
Because I’m a parent, I fixed my breakfast (Jimmy Dean omelet and bacon) last and ate it as I continued to pack the lunches and ensure I had the right homework in the right backpack. I poured my wife a travel mug full of coffee and placed her lunch by the door. As I packed my lunch, I noticed one child was missing and the other finger-painting a masterpiece on his plate with grape jelly. By some miracle, his shirt remained clean. The bathroom door closed and my daughter returned to the table, while announcing that the cat was making strange noises in the living room.
Because I’m a parent, I cleaned the cat barf off the carpet while barking orders to the kids to "PLEASE finish your breakfast and go brush your teeth." A blur ran by me with a recognizable voice saying, "gottagoluvyyahaveanicedaybye" and I swear I felt a kiss on my lips. I returned the near empty keg of pet stain remover and washed my hands as each child made their own interpretation of the earlier cat noises.
Because I’m a parent, I grabbed a plate of half-eaten toaster sticks and a near full bowl of Multigrain Cheerios and growled, "brush your teeth NOW" in my grizzliest of bear voices. Both kids ran to their bathroom as if their lives depended on it as I loaded the dishwasher and packed my briefcase. I eventually went back upstairs with comb, brush, and conditioner in hand to my own bedroom where I was greeted by the sounds of the Disney Channel. I ran an electric razor over my face, brushed my teeth, combed my hair and put on my shoes. I stuffed a wallet in one pocket and a handkerchief in another as I felt the sniffles coming on, having apparently been transferred in the earlier run-by kiss from my wife. I turned off the TV (finally) and found that my daughter was just starting to brush her teeth as a couple gallons of toothpaste-laden water drained from the sink from my sons’ tooth brushing. My growl had turned to a surrendering sigh and a plea to PLEASE hurry up.
Because I’m a parent, I helped my son tie his shoes in a proper double knot and handed him his jacket. I loaded my briefcase and lunch box into the car and clipped the now lifeless cell phone onto my belt. As the car warmed up, I returned inside the house and tied my daughter’s shoes and wiped the toothpaste off her mouth. She put on her jacket and both kids grabbed their backpacks and headed to the car. I turned out the lights, gave the cat a stare as he belched, and headed for the car myself. My kids teased me that I placed the wrong water bottles in their backpacks, so I corrected the error as they stared frozen and unable to comprehend they could have corrected this themselves.
Because I’m a parent, I drove carefully to the school despite running at least 15 minutes later than planned. I pulled up to the school, and reminded each child to give me a hug and kiss. I assured each that I loved them and that their mom would be picking them up after school. I watched the tikes walk into the big building in my rearview mirror as I drove off to work.
Because I’m a parent, I arrived at a workplace I enjoy, but sometimes wonder if it’s what I really want to do in my life. I looked at the photographs of my kids and their original artwork posted on my cubicle walls and realized, once again, that I do it for the kids, so they can have the things they need. My wife and I endure work, adult responsibilities and our own illnesses in order to give our children all that we can. Mentally recharged, I headed to the daily morning production meeting, at which I’m always expected a little late. I quietly walked in and took my place to lean against a side table when I felt the sniffles coming back. As I felt the sneeze rise, I reached for my handkerchief and let out a large sneeze.
And because I’m a parent, I stood before my colleagues with a pair of pink Cinderella panties pressed against my face.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Adventure to Massanutten
It's been four years since Raleigh, North Carolina has had any measurable snow. A snowfall of six inches was predicted about a month ago, so we purchased saucer sleds and winter boots in anticipation of a fun winter's day. Instead, we received less than half an inch…just enough to make the yard muddy. No sledding and no winter fun. The kids were frustrated as were my wife and I. The school was just beginning the winter break, so since we couldn't get winter to come to us, we decided to take ourselves to winter.
We had visited Massanutten, Virginia before. Massanutten is a four-seasons resort located near the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. Our previous visits have been in the late summer since the cooler mountain environment offered us a respite from the hot and humid North Carolina weather. However, this time we weren't merely seeking cooler climates, but seeking snow.
Our journey to the resort was planned to begin on a Friday, but as our luck usually happens, my son caught the flu on Thursday. Luckily we caught it early enough and the flu meds kicked in enough to allow us to leave on Saturday rather than Friday. This was just as well because our packing efficiency is analogous to not only trying to get ducks to walk in a row, but to get them to do so in step and with synchronized wing movements. It's just not something we, as a family, do well. There was no way we would have been packed on Friday to leave before late afternoon, and I'm just not a real fan of late arrivals to any vacation destination. Trust me, we do it all the time and it's not fun. But I digress.
The route we chose took us six hours to travel...about 30 minutes longer than the course we chose last summer. This newer route was indeed longer, but was chosen because it was nearly all interstate highways and therefore fewer curves that might make the kids, particularly my son, get carsick. Our only real near-sick situation arose when we were in the deepest and most narrow-road part of the mountains. That's when my son announced calmly, "I really have to poopy." Curvy two-lane roads, hair-pin turns and towering pine trees were all that we could see for miles. And of course, we hadn't packed any toilet paper. The only choice was to press the gas-pedal and careen down the mountain, taking curves on 2-wheels in order to find any civilization. After a butt-clenching 15 miles in 15 minutes, we spotted those wonderful golden arches. As I ran out of the car with son in tow (and engine still running), we sprinted to the restroom. My son danced as we struggled with the zipper, his eyes welling with near tears and he finally sat down. And sat. And sat. "Hmmm…daddy, I think maybe it was just gas."
We traveled only another 20 minutes to the resort itself after fumigating Ronald's house. After a pleasantly brief check-in, we headed to our unit towards the top of the mountain. Our ears popped perhaps twice between the check-in center and the condo. We were most definitely in the mountains, and once we arrived, we had a spectacular view of the ski resort and buildings below.
As we looked at this view, two eyes peered back at us. Massanutten is known for the abundant deer population, and one was already greeting us. My daughter immediately named it Bongo. A second and third deer soon joined the first in grazing along the slope. These were named Sweetie and Tommy. I have no idea where my daughter comes up with names so quickly, but it's an endearing quality. Eventually, three others (unnamed) joined in, and we suspected we'd see the animals every day of our stay. As it turned out, this was our only sighting. But we soon realized that deer were not the only other inhabitants of the resort. In fact, we were not even alone inside the unit.
Tiny specs danced along the kitchen countertop. Ants. Not a ton of them, but enough to know there was a whole resort of them hiding away somewhere. We immediately called the maintenance guy who showed up with a can of ant spray. He sprayed the kitchen floor, the counter tops, and the cabinets. The kitchen glistened in bug-killing juice and the scent now replaced that of the clear mountain air. Taking a whiff, he called for housekeeping to come clean up the excess bug juice. As they arrived, we headed out to Pizza Hut for dinner (next to McDonald's where we really didn't want to make an appearance so soon after our previous visit) then we went grocery shopping for the stay's provisions. Upon returning to the unit, we unloaded the food into the refrigerator and cabinets and the kids passed out on the couches. We took them to bed and followed behind shortly ourselves.
On Sunday, we slept in a little, and then I got up to fix some breakfast. Being hungry, I decided to grab a couple fig newtons. This was an old habit of mine from before I started to diet, and I was really hungry, so I thought I'd sneak a cookie before breakfast. After all, even though it was cheating on my diet, it was vacation and I was allowed to enjoy myself a little more than usual. When I grabbed a pack of the cookies, I noticed something strange. The fig center of each cookie seemed to be moving. As I twisted around the sealed plastic bag, I noticed the figs weren't moving at all. Instead, it was the hundreds of ants inside that were moving. Somehow, the little buggers got into the sealed bag and feasted. To my disappointment, I tossed out all the fig newtons along with the one vice I hoped to embrace that day. Nothing else was touched, just my figs newtons. But to be on the safe side, all other cookies and snacks were placed in a plastic tote for the rest of the stay.
After breakfast and some lazing about, we went to a time-share presentation and sales pitch for 3 hours. I hate those things. It's a high-pressured atmosphere and just plain not relaxing. But the reason we attended was to earn 100 resort bucks that helped us to pay to take the kids to the water park later in the week. (At 28 bucks a pop for the evening session, it was worth the 3 hours of my life to pay for my kids' enjoyment). The tour was a high-pressure sales pitch as we expected, but we got the resort bucks as well as a free lunch out of the deal. The sales lady was some old German gal named Petra who reminded me of our Danish neighbor back home, but much, much more annoying. I must have used the words, "yes, it's a great deal, but no, we're not going to spend eleven thousand dollars on a timeshare now…thank you" up to fifteen times before she finally gave up the fight. Truly, this was a miserable experience, but again, this time…and perhaps only this time, it was worth it.
Once the Petra sales pitch was over, we took the kids to the indoor swimming pool and found the water to be freezing. The kids jumped right in while it took my wife and I nearly 20 minutes to ease ourselves to shoulder depth. I have to wonder at what age does the annoyance of freezing cold temperatures supercede the thrill of the swim. Certainly not at age 5 as the kids gleefully splashed around the ice caps. I made a mental note to myself to get the kids swim lessons this summer so that we don't have to go in with them in the future.
We wore our swimsuits under our bundled winter clothing as we arrived. However, before we left, we had to dry and change into dry underwear and clothes in the locker room before leaving. I can't vouch for my daughter's reaction, but this was my son's first experience in a locker room with others changing clothes. It was hard to keep a straight face to watch his face and keep him from pointing at other naked people. A mixture of personal modesty and curiosity sent him into a flood of whispered comments. "That boy is wearing a towel" "Can they see me naked?" "Why does that man have a hairy butt?"
We ended the day heading back to our unit as light flurries began to fall. The kids were thrilled to see the white stuff falling, but I figured the flurries would be all the snow we'd see. Raleigh had made me grow quite cynical to snowy forecasts.
Monday morning came too soon as the sun was barely shining into the valley below. However, an excited whisper coaxed me awake. "Daddy, our backyard is covered in snow!" Our backyard was a 60-degree slope to the condo below, but sure enough, it was covered with a good inch of snow. We were all excited, so rather than have a leisurely morning of coffee and breakfast, I made everyone get dressed without showering and we headed out to play in the snow a bit. Snowballs flew and street skating commenced as we enjoyed this rare and new experience for the kids. We had brought our aforementioned sleds with us and decided to drive to the park at the bottom of the mountain to hit their slopes. Unfortunately there was no snow at the bottom, only at the top of the mountain where there was no place to sled. Instead, we drove through a winter wonderland to the very top of the mountain to look at the incredible view and throw a few more snowballs. Eventually, the kids began to experience the main side effect of snow-play…they became cold. So we headed to the condo for hot chocolate and breakfast and an eventual lazy day around the unit.
We had thought of visiting the snow tubing park that day, but saw that the next day, Tuesday, was a half-price day. We decided to take advantage of the savings and wait a day...a decision we later regretted. Instead, we bided our time playing games and reading books. The kids learned the rules of checkers and also that checkers can be a very long game if played too defensively. I'm not sure if we ever finished a game. My son brought along some clay, so colorful rainbows and flowers soon decorated our unit. The condo itself was a pretty basic two-bedroom unit that one would find at most timeshares. However, there was one outstanding feature…the Jacuzzi. This tub easily sat four adults comfortably and was surrounded on three sides by full-mirrored walls. I searched around for the disco mirror ball and shag carpet. Regardless of it's party reputation, we soon found it to be the perfect entertainment for a family of four to bathe together. And this time, the water wasn't freezing.
Afterwards, we made sure the kids napped in the afternoon as we prepared to visit the indoor water park that evening. The water park turned out to be awesome. There was a nice lazy river, slides galore, and absolutely no way to remain dry if one ventured into the play space of tipping water buckets (the largest holding hundreds of gallons) and spraying hoses. Of course, the water was cold, but much easier to adjust to the temperature within the 84-degree environment. We floated in the lazy river for a few laps and then went into the play area. The kids chickened out of the larger (but not huge) slides but enjoyed the much smaller ones. The rest of the family ended the experience by floating and soaking in the warm springs (not too hot, hot tub). Admittedly, I enjoyed this warm soaking, but screams and splashes across the building beckoned me for one more wet experience.
The "thrill ride" of the water park was to venture through the long water tubes. These tubes extended outside of the building and led back into the pool inside. When one approaches the building from the outside, one can hear screeches of delight echoing from the tubes. I just had to experience one.
I grabbed an inner tube and walked up the 5 stories of stairs. At the top were three choices…each one was a hole in the wall with rushing water flowing into the darkness. I randomly chose one, sat on my tube, and was thrust into the darkness by a giggling attendant. The ride was in pitch darkness with no indication of where the tube would turn next. It was quite a blast as I expected the end of the tube and light of the building to greet me any second. But the ride seemed endless. Then suddenly, the most unexpected sensation occurred. Weightlessness. The tube dropped what seems to be straight down, although I'm sure it was no steeper than the drive to the condo. I have no idea if I screamed like a school-girl, roared in manly delight, or was left breathless. All I know is that I came up from under the shallow water at the end with a giddiness and laughter I'd not felt in a long time. This was worth the 3 hours with Petra.
Tuesday morning greeted us with drizzling rain outside, which prevented us from going tubing. Since the rain was forecast for the remainder of the day, we decided to head back to North Carolina and have the next day at home to recover and unpack (a process equally as long as packing). It took a while to pack for the return since we kept debating the value of shortening our stay, but it was a good choice overall. I'm disappointed we didn't snow tube, but I'm thinking the kids would have been intimidated there as they were at the water park slides. And it was drizzling and miserable. So, we packed throughout the day and eventually headed out around 4:00PM for us to be home by 10:30PM. A long dinner on the road and getting lost in Charlottesville extended the return trip time by 30 minutes. I made another note to myself: when printing off Mapquest directions, make sure to print the return trip directions as well.
Overall, we had a nice time. The ants sucked, but weren't too bad after the initial fig newton take over. The main television was on the fritz throughout our stay, but the kids had one in their room and we had one in ours, mostly to fall asleep by as we watched B-movies on HBO. Swimming at the indoor pool and again at the water park were definitely highlights. The view from the unit was nice, especially when it snowed the one morning. And that was our main goal, to have the kids experience snow before winter's end. Now I'm ready for spring, and hopefully the ants will stay outdoors.
We had visited Massanutten, Virginia before. Massanutten is a four-seasons resort located near the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. Our previous visits have been in the late summer since the cooler mountain environment offered us a respite from the hot and humid North Carolina weather. However, this time we weren't merely seeking cooler climates, but seeking snow.
Our journey to the resort was planned to begin on a Friday, but as our luck usually happens, my son caught the flu on Thursday. Luckily we caught it early enough and the flu meds kicked in enough to allow us to leave on Saturday rather than Friday. This was just as well because our packing efficiency is analogous to not only trying to get ducks to walk in a row, but to get them to do so in step and with synchronized wing movements. It's just not something we, as a family, do well. There was no way we would have been packed on Friday to leave before late afternoon, and I'm just not a real fan of late arrivals to any vacation destination. Trust me, we do it all the time and it's not fun. But I digress.
The route we chose took us six hours to travel...about 30 minutes longer than the course we chose last summer. This newer route was indeed longer, but was chosen because it was nearly all interstate highways and therefore fewer curves that might make the kids, particularly my son, get carsick. Our only real near-sick situation arose when we were in the deepest and most narrow-road part of the mountains. That's when my son announced calmly, "I really have to poopy." Curvy two-lane roads, hair-pin turns and towering pine trees were all that we could see for miles. And of course, we hadn't packed any toilet paper. The only choice was to press the gas-pedal and careen down the mountain, taking curves on 2-wheels in order to find any civilization. After a butt-clenching 15 miles in 15 minutes, we spotted those wonderful golden arches. As I ran out of the car with son in tow (and engine still running), we sprinted to the restroom. My son danced as we struggled with the zipper, his eyes welling with near tears and he finally sat down. And sat. And sat. "Hmmm…daddy, I think maybe it was just gas."
We traveled only another 20 minutes to the resort itself after fumigating Ronald's house. After a pleasantly brief check-in, we headed to our unit towards the top of the mountain. Our ears popped perhaps twice between the check-in center and the condo. We were most definitely in the mountains, and once we arrived, we had a spectacular view of the ski resort and buildings below.
As we looked at this view, two eyes peered back at us. Massanutten is known for the abundant deer population, and one was already greeting us. My daughter immediately named it Bongo. A second and third deer soon joined the first in grazing along the slope. These were named Sweetie and Tommy. I have no idea where my daughter comes up with names so quickly, but it's an endearing quality. Eventually, three others (unnamed) joined in, and we suspected we'd see the animals every day of our stay. As it turned out, this was our only sighting. But we soon realized that deer were not the only other inhabitants of the resort. In fact, we were not even alone inside the unit.
Tiny specs danced along the kitchen countertop. Ants. Not a ton of them, but enough to know there was a whole resort of them hiding away somewhere. We immediately called the maintenance guy who showed up with a can of ant spray. He sprayed the kitchen floor, the counter tops, and the cabinets. The kitchen glistened in bug-killing juice and the scent now replaced that of the clear mountain air. Taking a whiff, he called for housekeeping to come clean up the excess bug juice. As they arrived, we headed out to Pizza Hut for dinner (next to McDonald's where we really didn't want to make an appearance so soon after our previous visit) then we went grocery shopping for the stay's provisions. Upon returning to the unit, we unloaded the food into the refrigerator and cabinets and the kids passed out on the couches. We took them to bed and followed behind shortly ourselves.
On Sunday, we slept in a little, and then I got up to fix some breakfast. Being hungry, I decided to grab a couple fig newtons. This was an old habit of mine from before I started to diet, and I was really hungry, so I thought I'd sneak a cookie before breakfast. After all, even though it was cheating on my diet, it was vacation and I was allowed to enjoy myself a little more than usual. When I grabbed a pack of the cookies, I noticed something strange. The fig center of each cookie seemed to be moving. As I twisted around the sealed plastic bag, I noticed the figs weren't moving at all. Instead, it was the hundreds of ants inside that were moving. Somehow, the little buggers got into the sealed bag and feasted. To my disappointment, I tossed out all the fig newtons along with the one vice I hoped to embrace that day. Nothing else was touched, just my figs newtons. But to be on the safe side, all other cookies and snacks were placed in a plastic tote for the rest of the stay.
After breakfast and some lazing about, we went to a time-share presentation and sales pitch for 3 hours. I hate those things. It's a high-pressured atmosphere and just plain not relaxing. But the reason we attended was to earn 100 resort bucks that helped us to pay to take the kids to the water park later in the week. (At 28 bucks a pop for the evening session, it was worth the 3 hours of my life to pay for my kids' enjoyment). The tour was a high-pressure sales pitch as we expected, but we got the resort bucks as well as a free lunch out of the deal. The sales lady was some old German gal named Petra who reminded me of our Danish neighbor back home, but much, much more annoying. I must have used the words, "yes, it's a great deal, but no, we're not going to spend eleven thousand dollars on a timeshare now…thank you" up to fifteen times before she finally gave up the fight. Truly, this was a miserable experience, but again, this time…and perhaps only this time, it was worth it.
Once the Petra sales pitch was over, we took the kids to the indoor swimming pool and found the water to be freezing. The kids jumped right in while it took my wife and I nearly 20 minutes to ease ourselves to shoulder depth. I have to wonder at what age does the annoyance of freezing cold temperatures supercede the thrill of the swim. Certainly not at age 5 as the kids gleefully splashed around the ice caps. I made a mental note to myself to get the kids swim lessons this summer so that we don't have to go in with them in the future.
We wore our swimsuits under our bundled winter clothing as we arrived. However, before we left, we had to dry and change into dry underwear and clothes in the locker room before leaving. I can't vouch for my daughter's reaction, but this was my son's first experience in a locker room with others changing clothes. It was hard to keep a straight face to watch his face and keep him from pointing at other naked people. A mixture of personal modesty and curiosity sent him into a flood of whispered comments. "That boy is wearing a towel" "Can they see me naked?" "Why does that man have a hairy butt?"
We ended the day heading back to our unit as light flurries began to fall. The kids were thrilled to see the white stuff falling, but I figured the flurries would be all the snow we'd see. Raleigh had made me grow quite cynical to snowy forecasts.
Monday morning came too soon as the sun was barely shining into the valley below. However, an excited whisper coaxed me awake. "Daddy, our backyard is covered in snow!" Our backyard was a 60-degree slope to the condo below, but sure enough, it was covered with a good inch of snow. We were all excited, so rather than have a leisurely morning of coffee and breakfast, I made everyone get dressed without showering and we headed out to play in the snow a bit. Snowballs flew and street skating commenced as we enjoyed this rare and new experience for the kids. We had brought our aforementioned sleds with us and decided to drive to the park at the bottom of the mountain to hit their slopes. Unfortunately there was no snow at the bottom, only at the top of the mountain where there was no place to sled. Instead, we drove through a winter wonderland to the very top of the mountain to look at the incredible view and throw a few more snowballs. Eventually, the kids began to experience the main side effect of snow-play…they became cold. So we headed to the condo for hot chocolate and breakfast and an eventual lazy day around the unit.
We had thought of visiting the snow tubing park that day, but saw that the next day, Tuesday, was a half-price day. We decided to take advantage of the savings and wait a day...a decision we later regretted. Instead, we bided our time playing games and reading books. The kids learned the rules of checkers and also that checkers can be a very long game if played too defensively. I'm not sure if we ever finished a game. My son brought along some clay, so colorful rainbows and flowers soon decorated our unit. The condo itself was a pretty basic two-bedroom unit that one would find at most timeshares. However, there was one outstanding feature…the Jacuzzi. This tub easily sat four adults comfortably and was surrounded on three sides by full-mirrored walls. I searched around for the disco mirror ball and shag carpet. Regardless of it's party reputation, we soon found it to be the perfect entertainment for a family of four to bathe together. And this time, the water wasn't freezing.
Afterwards, we made sure the kids napped in the afternoon as we prepared to visit the indoor water park that evening. The water park turned out to be awesome. There was a nice lazy river, slides galore, and absolutely no way to remain dry if one ventured into the play space of tipping water buckets (the largest holding hundreds of gallons) and spraying hoses. Of course, the water was cold, but much easier to adjust to the temperature within the 84-degree environment. We floated in the lazy river for a few laps and then went into the play area. The kids chickened out of the larger (but not huge) slides but enjoyed the much smaller ones. The rest of the family ended the experience by floating and soaking in the warm springs (not too hot, hot tub). Admittedly, I enjoyed this warm soaking, but screams and splashes across the building beckoned me for one more wet experience.
The "thrill ride" of the water park was to venture through the long water tubes. These tubes extended outside of the building and led back into the pool inside. When one approaches the building from the outside, one can hear screeches of delight echoing from the tubes. I just had to experience one.
I grabbed an inner tube and walked up the 5 stories of stairs. At the top were three choices…each one was a hole in the wall with rushing water flowing into the darkness. I randomly chose one, sat on my tube, and was thrust into the darkness by a giggling attendant. The ride was in pitch darkness with no indication of where the tube would turn next. It was quite a blast as I expected the end of the tube and light of the building to greet me any second. But the ride seemed endless. Then suddenly, the most unexpected sensation occurred. Weightlessness. The tube dropped what seems to be straight down, although I'm sure it was no steeper than the drive to the condo. I have no idea if I screamed like a school-girl, roared in manly delight, or was left breathless. All I know is that I came up from under the shallow water at the end with a giddiness and laughter I'd not felt in a long time. This was worth the 3 hours with Petra.
Tuesday morning greeted us with drizzling rain outside, which prevented us from going tubing. Since the rain was forecast for the remainder of the day, we decided to head back to North Carolina and have the next day at home to recover and unpack (a process equally as long as packing). It took a while to pack for the return since we kept debating the value of shortening our stay, but it was a good choice overall. I'm disappointed we didn't snow tube, but I'm thinking the kids would have been intimidated there as they were at the water park slides. And it was drizzling and miserable. So, we packed throughout the day and eventually headed out around 4:00PM for us to be home by 10:30PM. A long dinner on the road and getting lost in Charlottesville extended the return trip time by 30 minutes. I made another note to myself: when printing off Mapquest directions, make sure to print the return trip directions as well.
Overall, we had a nice time. The ants sucked, but weren't too bad after the initial fig newton take over. The main television was on the fritz throughout our stay, but the kids had one in their room and we had one in ours, mostly to fall asleep by as we watched B-movies on HBO. Swimming at the indoor pool and again at the water park were definitely highlights. The view from the unit was nice, especially when it snowed the one morning. And that was our main goal, to have the kids experience snow before winter's end. Now I'm ready for spring, and hopefully the ants will stay outdoors.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Dissing the Tooth Fairy
I took my kids to their respective karate and gymnastics classes last night. While there, I got "the look" from another parent. My daughter lost her third tooth last week and was wiggling the next candidate as she awaited her class. As the girl likes to do, she was telling complete strangers about her recent dental changes and was enthusiastically displaying her new toothless void. When the lady asked her if the tooth fairy had visited (expecting an enthusiastic "Yes!"), my daughter responded with a straight face and a simple "no." That's when I got “the look.” The is the gaze one receives when another person thinks you're either an awful parent keeping a child from their innocence, or a practitioner of a strange religion that shuns the existence of the tooth fairy. Immediately, I had to stammer for an explanation to my daughter's words by stating, "It’s HER choice!"
That's right...my daughter refuses to give up her teeth. We've reminded her that the tooth fairy will reward her handsomely for the teeth (hinting at $5 for the first and a dollar for each additional), but she refuses to part with them. I've never received an explanation that makes a lot of sense, just that she wants to keep them in a cheap plastic McDonald's Happy Meal toy container that looks like a tooth fairy. I've seen her play with this toy and I can imagine all her teeth spilled over the carpeted floor, leading to me eventually stepping upon an incisor in the dark of night and feeling it penetrate to the bone in my bare foot.
She asked if she could write a letter to the tooth fairy for money rather than offer up a tooth, but in an effort to teach her a little about sacrificing for a greater reward, we decided not to allow that. Give up the teeth and get the cash. No exception. Otherwise, she could write a letter anytime requesting money and simply expecting it without any sacrifice or actions in exchange. I’ve seen her struggle with the dilemma, while being amazed at both her decision and her acceptance of said consequence. Between you and me, I’m sure her decisions will be amply rewarded eventually. Either that, or when her brother starts showing a profit (he’s already looking forward to his first payment) she’ll change her mind and seek a bulk tooth-deposit.
I suppose that I'm destined to get “the look” from other parents for quite a while. But frankly, they can look to their heart’s content, for I know I'm a decent parent that's allowing my daughter to do as she wishes and to learn to make tough independent choices. I might regret that when she becomes a more opinionated teenager, but by then, I'll be dealing with her looks rather than those from others.
That's right...my daughter refuses to give up her teeth. We've reminded her that the tooth fairy will reward her handsomely for the teeth (hinting at $5 for the first and a dollar for each additional), but she refuses to part with them. I've never received an explanation that makes a lot of sense, just that she wants to keep them in a cheap plastic McDonald's Happy Meal toy container that looks like a tooth fairy. I've seen her play with this toy and I can imagine all her teeth spilled over the carpeted floor, leading to me eventually stepping upon an incisor in the dark of night and feeling it penetrate to the bone in my bare foot.
She asked if she could write a letter to the tooth fairy for money rather than offer up a tooth, but in an effort to teach her a little about sacrificing for a greater reward, we decided not to allow that. Give up the teeth and get the cash. No exception. Otherwise, she could write a letter anytime requesting money and simply expecting it without any sacrifice or actions in exchange. I’ve seen her struggle with the dilemma, while being amazed at both her decision and her acceptance of said consequence. Between you and me, I’m sure her decisions will be amply rewarded eventually. Either that, or when her brother starts showing a profit (he’s already looking forward to his first payment) she’ll change her mind and seek a bulk tooth-deposit.
I suppose that I'm destined to get “the look” from other parents for quite a while. But frankly, they can look to their heart’s content, for I know I'm a decent parent that's allowing my daughter to do as she wishes and to learn to make tough independent choices. I might regret that when she becomes a more opinionated teenager, but by then, I'll be dealing with her looks rather than those from others.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Groundhog Beginning
My eyes slowly opened to the morning light. No alarms, no loud noises. Just a gentle awakening that I’d not experienced in months. Usually I’m reaching for my cell phone alarm or hearing the whispers of my kids waking me at the crack of down. But on this Saturday morning, at roughly 8:00, I awoke simply because I was ready to wake up. I savored the silence and had one thought. “What are the kids up to?”
I soon had my answer as I heard whispering in the hallway. My wife had also just awoken and we both decided to play possum to see what the kids’ plans were. I heard whispers and tiptoeing on the carpet. Finally a soft counting of, “one, two, three….” The chord from a harmonica screeched somewhat quietly, followed by a rousing chorus of “Happy Groundhog Day to You!”
I opened my eyes as the two tikes smiled and swayed as they sang their song. Before I could applaud, they started the next phase of their presentation. Walking to my wife’s side of the bed, my son proclaimed, “In recognition of Groundhog day, I proclaim you as the Groundhog Queen” as he placed a paper crown upon her head. Rather than jewels adorning the tiara, smiling ground hog faces circled my wife’s head. Her face was beaming with pride.
My daughter then presented me with a card. The front was written in blue crayon: “It is growhog day. Wod you like to play?” Inside, the choice was “Yes or No” Of course, I responded with a resounding yes. My son then asked me if I thought the groundhog would see his shadow today? Judging from the sunlight streaming through the blinds, I told him he would He seemed to be thrilled with the answer.
The day has since proceeded as any other Saturday…with a nice cooked (not nuked) breakfast and plenty of Saturday morning cartoons. I’m sure we’ll run our errands later on and take care of some household chores. But today, I’ll make an extra effort to play, and my wife will still be wearing groundhogs on her head.
I soon had my answer as I heard whispering in the hallway. My wife had also just awoken and we both decided to play possum to see what the kids’ plans were. I heard whispers and tiptoeing on the carpet. Finally a soft counting of, “one, two, three….” The chord from a harmonica screeched somewhat quietly, followed by a rousing chorus of “Happy Groundhog Day to You!”
I opened my eyes as the two tikes smiled and swayed as they sang their song. Before I could applaud, they started the next phase of their presentation. Walking to my wife’s side of the bed, my son proclaimed, “In recognition of Groundhog day, I proclaim you as the Groundhog Queen” as he placed a paper crown upon her head. Rather than jewels adorning the tiara, smiling ground hog faces circled my wife’s head. Her face was beaming with pride.
My daughter then presented me with a card. The front was written in blue crayon: “It is growhog day. Wod you like to play?” Inside, the choice was “Yes or No” Of course, I responded with a resounding yes. My son then asked me if I thought the groundhog would see his shadow today? Judging from the sunlight streaming through the blinds, I told him he would He seemed to be thrilled with the answer.
The day has since proceeded as any other Saturday…with a nice cooked (not nuked) breakfast and plenty of Saturday morning cartoons. I’m sure we’ll run our errands later on and take care of some household chores. But today, I’ll make an extra effort to play, and my wife will still be wearing groundhogs on her head.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Accidental Attraction
A couple of weeks ago, I was traveling down a back road towards work as I usually do. The main road is typically congested and, despite the back road being two miles longer in distance, it saves me about 5 minutes on my commute. Besides, it’s a pleasant road that passes a few horse farms and other scenic sites. But on this particular morning, there was a car stopped ahead of me to turn left into another road.
I came to a stop behind this other car and waited for them to turn. They were waiting on another approaching car to pass the other way first. Suddenly, above the noise from my radio, I heard screeching tires. I thought for sure that the approaching vehicle was going to crash right into the car in front of me. But the car started to cross the road with no problems, so I glanced in my rear-view mirror to look for the origin of the screeching noise. Nothing in sight…at least until I saw another car to the right of me, along the shoulder, sliding past me. The lady turned her steering wheel hard to her left to keep from sliding too far off the road, and eventually ran into my front right fender. Needless to say, this was not a great start to my day, but for some reason, I soon felt relieved and grateful that there were no injuries and the accident was essentially minor. (Note that "minor" resulted in $1600 damage to my car, but in the grand scheme of things, it was a minor inconvenience).
I had called my boss to tell him I’d be late for work, and also called my wife to basically let her know what had happened. When I arrived at work, word had apparently spread and everyone asked if I was okay. I was and I thanked them for their concern. The same situation occurred when I met my wife later that evening. I assured her and my kids that I was fine and that we’d have to get the car fixed soon. Again, gratefully, there was no real problems and the eventual insurance claims and car repairs went smoothly.
As it turns out, it seems more than co-workers and family was concerned for my well being. "I am sorry you were recently involved in an auto accident." "We are so sorry this misfortune has happened to you." "If you have been injured, we’re here to help." I have been virtually overwhelmed with good wishes and people who are concerned with my well being. In particular, 6 attorneys and 3 chiropractors have taken time out of their busy day to offer their condolences and assistance. How nice of them.
I suppose that if I had been injured and wanted to protect myself, I might welcome such an inundation of legal and medical options. One thoughtful lawyer stated, "I apologize if this letter seems to invade your privacy." As I think about that, I realize they’re not apologetic at all. After all, even though my accident is public record, one has to search for or be at the right spot to know when such records are fled. Do they have a paralegal or hired help sitting at the hall of records just waiting for accident reports? Does someone at the highway patrol send a mass email to all attorneys and chiropractors informing them of the details of an accident? And what of the basically nice lady that hit me? She was a pleasant individual and readily admitted fault. She was not rude, she was apologetic and I was grateful of that. Still, did the very same people contact her? And as for the attorneys…would they have taken the side of which ever one of us called them first? No, they’re not apologetic at all, because they count on this information for their bread and butter.
I can’t really call them vultures. I would say they are necessary in many cases, especially where serious accident and differing accounts of what happened occurred. But the fact that the police report noted there were no injuries doesn’t seem to phase these people. They all simply assume that there was an injury, despite the report. So it’s not the invasion of privacy that gets to me, but the assumption of what’s best for me. It almost makes me think of the reckless paparazzi that follows Britney Spears and other celebrities. They don’t care what happens to the person they’re following. They only care about how that person can lead to them making a buck.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Trying to Remember the Good Stuff
When my dad began writing his book a couple years ago, he stated that he was doing so in order to keep the memory of my mom alive after her passing. At the time, I thought it was a sweet gesture, but also wondered if "fading memories" was more a sign of getting older than it was of just not having someone around. After all, my mom had been around my life, well, all my life, so I couldn’t fathom having such memories simply disappear.
I looked at the calendar this morning and saw that this is the third anniversary of her passing. As I think of Mom, my thoughts immediately go to that dark day three years ago when the Putnam County Hospital called me so early in the morning. I recall my mom phoning a couple of days prior and talking to my kids in a confused and desperate manner. I remember how she looked during the Christmas visit only a few weeks earlier. But beyond that, I realize that I have to strain hard for specific memories…the good memories. When I imagine "Mom," I picture her last days. And that’s not really the memory I should or want to keep.
But if you read above, I think you’ll see what my problem is. I stated that today is the third anniversary of her passing. An anniversary should be a celebration. Today is not such an anniversary. So I think I merely need to adjust my thinking. My mind is dwelling on when she left us, and not for the many years of her life before.
So after today, I’ll no longer mark January 22" on my calendar as I subtly do. I won’t forget the day, but I will forgive the day. It’s a day that an unfortunate circumstance occurred in my life (and others), but no more. What I’ll begin to celebrate more, even if only privately, will be July 9, 1934. That’s the day she was brought into this world, not taken out. Even more, I’ll celebrate October 31, 1962, for that’s the day I was introduced to her. If I dwell on those days, then the good memories will come back. I think Mom would appreciate me just moving on to the next day, and the day after that...embracing my kids as she did me and my brother...and just send a smile her way and remember the good stuff instead. I’ll begin to remember the woman who took me to swim lessons on chilly mornings and made me cocoa-wheats to warm me when I returned home. I’ll recall her bowling on her Tuesday morning and Thursday night leagues…and kicking ass. I’ll recall her making fudge for no reason at all after dinner. I’ll remember the taste of her Christmas tree cookie batter that I’ve never been able to duplicate. I’ll remember being slapped in the face for saying, "fart" when I was 10 (yes, that is a good memory…now).
I miss my mom…and always will. But every time I see my daughter smile at me, I know Mom is smiling too. (She has her "Mam-ma’s" eyes for sure). She’s not gone as long as the memories stick around. And as long as I cling to the good ones, and the one’s about her living life, they’ll stick around forever.
I looked at the calendar this morning and saw that this is the third anniversary of her passing. As I think of Mom, my thoughts immediately go to that dark day three years ago when the Putnam County Hospital called me so early in the morning. I recall my mom phoning a couple of days prior and talking to my kids in a confused and desperate manner. I remember how she looked during the Christmas visit only a few weeks earlier. But beyond that, I realize that I have to strain hard for specific memories…the good memories. When I imagine "Mom," I picture her last days. And that’s not really the memory I should or want to keep.
But if you read above, I think you’ll see what my problem is. I stated that today is the third anniversary of her passing. An anniversary should be a celebration. Today is not such an anniversary. So I think I merely need to adjust my thinking. My mind is dwelling on when she left us, and not for the many years of her life before.
So after today, I’ll no longer mark January 22" on my calendar as I subtly do. I won’t forget the day, but I will forgive the day. It’s a day that an unfortunate circumstance occurred in my life (and others), but no more. What I’ll begin to celebrate more, even if only privately, will be July 9, 1934. That’s the day she was brought into this world, not taken out. Even more, I’ll celebrate October 31, 1962, for that’s the day I was introduced to her. If I dwell on those days, then the good memories will come back. I think Mom would appreciate me just moving on to the next day, and the day after that...embracing my kids as she did me and my brother...and just send a smile her way and remember the good stuff instead. I’ll begin to remember the woman who took me to swim lessons on chilly mornings and made me cocoa-wheats to warm me when I returned home. I’ll recall her bowling on her Tuesday morning and Thursday night leagues…and kicking ass. I’ll recall her making fudge for no reason at all after dinner. I’ll remember the taste of her Christmas tree cookie batter that I’ve never been able to duplicate. I’ll remember being slapped in the face for saying, "fart" when I was 10 (yes, that is a good memory…now).
I miss my mom…and always will. But every time I see my daughter smile at me, I know Mom is smiling too. (She has her "Mam-ma’s" eyes for sure). She’s not gone as long as the memories stick around. And as long as I cling to the good ones, and the one’s about her living life, they’ll stick around forever.
Friday, January 11, 2008
So many blog ideas, so little time. It seems as I come up with a new idea about what to write, there just isn't enough time or opportunity to put such thoughts onto monitor. I apologize to those who have anticipated my words. I'll resolve to do better in 2008. And that leads me to my first posting...my 2008 resolutions. I know, I know...EVERYBODY has posted his or her resolutions. But bear with me.
Like most other folks, I resolve to maintain a healthy diet, to exercise more, to work harder, and to play even harder. But face let’s it; these should be daily resolutions, not yearly resolutions. So what should be my true New Year's resolutions?
First, I resolve to embrace more and envy less. It's difficult to turn on the television or read the paper without witnessing someone experiencing a better lifestyle than me. Perhaps it is a beer commercial where everyone is young, attractive and having fun. None of them are toiling away at work and worried about sick kids at home. Maybe it's a celebrity that's vacationing on an exotic island and then flying off to attend a party in some other location. Surely they don't have the worries of bills awaiting their return or whether or not they'll have to mow the lawn. They might have a nice house, or a nice car. They might have a job that pays so much more than mine. They have more time with family and can take seemingly unlimited vacations. Heck, I actually KNOW people with such good fortune and I have envied them in the past. I wanted what they had. But then again, they don't have my family. I have a great family with no real drama (at the moment). I have a job where my efforts are appreciated. I have good friends with whom I can confide and share laughter. I tend to enjoy life overall. And as a result, I am choosing to embrace the wonderful things I have and envy others less.
Next, I plan to avoid any entertainment or "information" that preys upon the humiliation of others. This is just plain cruel for the most part. A prime example of this is the new Fox show called “Moment of Truth” where the host asks contestants extremely personal questions while they are strapped to a lie detector. Why on earth would anyone want to be subjected to such humiliation? Well, obviously the answer to that is "money." Still...what about those poor souls on American Idol that audition with no talent? Sure, some of these people are hoping for fame and fortune simply by being bad, but I’m convinced many have a real dream to sing. And despite their lack of singing talent, why is it we get so much enjoyment out of seeing people’s dreams crushed? Not for me thank you. And please, leave Britney alone. The poor girl needs help and I think we can all agree to that. Having an army of photographers and reporters follow her every bowel movement is bund to drive her crazy, even beyond and mental illness she may already have. Have you noticed how many flash bulbs are going off while she’s driving past? It’s no winder she keeps running over photographers’ feet, she can’t see for the flash bulbs! Just leave her alone…and please don’t offer me more “entertaining gossip” at her expense.
My third resolution is to try not to condemn a person when it’s their skills that need criticized. There might be co-workers, retailers or other service personnel that simply seem like idiots. They might be incompetent or merely lack the skills to perform their job functions. Still, most people are somewhat hard working and have someone in their life that respects or looks up to them. That ass in accounting has a kid screaming in glee for Daddy when he goes home at night. The snobbish sales woman has an ailing husband at home. The young lady serving you your appetizer takes her paycheck home to pay for her child’s dental bill. We all have stresses in life and often time, we take our stresses out on other people. They’re perceived as asses, idiots or whatever you want to call them. And while admittedly some just never seem to learn, others are simply having a bad day. As a result, I’ll think about the people in their lives before I start condemning the individual.
My final resolution is to find a “cause.” Such a thing doesn’t necessarily involve a lot of monetary contribution, but rather devotion. Perhaps it will involve something in which my kids will become active, such as raising funds for a dance studio or volunteering to be an Indian Guide. It might be more involvement in some charitable endeavor, whether it be prostate cancer awareness, blood (triglycerides) health or supporting the Lupus Foundation. I might not be able to contribute funds, but perhaps I can participate in a march, or donate the receipts from a garage sale. And with the election year ahead of us, maybe my cause will be politically motivated. Or maybe my cause will be something of which I have no awareness of at the moment. Whatever the case may be, I think it’s important to have a cause…and at this moment, I really don’t. I tend to go along with the flow and just try to be all things to all people and causes. But honestly, it’s time to embrace “something” bigger than myself. I hope this year to do that, no matter what it may be.
And that is what makes the upcoming year such an exciting time. Something new is bound to happen and I’m convinced it will all be good. So as a result, I resolve to be as good as what I intend to receive. Sounds like a fair deal to me.
Like most other folks, I resolve to maintain a healthy diet, to exercise more, to work harder, and to play even harder. But face let’s it; these should be daily resolutions, not yearly resolutions. So what should be my true New Year's resolutions?
First, I resolve to embrace more and envy less. It's difficult to turn on the television or read the paper without witnessing someone experiencing a better lifestyle than me. Perhaps it is a beer commercial where everyone is young, attractive and having fun. None of them are toiling away at work and worried about sick kids at home. Maybe it's a celebrity that's vacationing on an exotic island and then flying off to attend a party in some other location. Surely they don't have the worries of bills awaiting their return or whether or not they'll have to mow the lawn. They might have a nice house, or a nice car. They might have a job that pays so much more than mine. They have more time with family and can take seemingly unlimited vacations. Heck, I actually KNOW people with such good fortune and I have envied them in the past. I wanted what they had. But then again, they don't have my family. I have a great family with no real drama (at the moment). I have a job where my efforts are appreciated. I have good friends with whom I can confide and share laughter. I tend to enjoy life overall. And as a result, I am choosing to embrace the wonderful things I have and envy others less.
Next, I plan to avoid any entertainment or "information" that preys upon the humiliation of others. This is just plain cruel for the most part. A prime example of this is the new Fox show called “Moment of Truth” where the host asks contestants extremely personal questions while they are strapped to a lie detector. Why on earth would anyone want to be subjected to such humiliation? Well, obviously the answer to that is "money." Still...what about those poor souls on American Idol that audition with no talent? Sure, some of these people are hoping for fame and fortune simply by being bad, but I’m convinced many have a real dream to sing. And despite their lack of singing talent, why is it we get so much enjoyment out of seeing people’s dreams crushed? Not for me thank you. And please, leave Britney alone. The poor girl needs help and I think we can all agree to that. Having an army of photographers and reporters follow her every bowel movement is bund to drive her crazy, even beyond and mental illness she may already have. Have you noticed how many flash bulbs are going off while she’s driving past? It’s no winder she keeps running over photographers’ feet, she can’t see for the flash bulbs! Just leave her alone…and please don’t offer me more “entertaining gossip” at her expense.
My third resolution is to try not to condemn a person when it’s their skills that need criticized. There might be co-workers, retailers or other service personnel that simply seem like idiots. They might be incompetent or merely lack the skills to perform their job functions. Still, most people are somewhat hard working and have someone in their life that respects or looks up to them. That ass in accounting has a kid screaming in glee for Daddy when he goes home at night. The snobbish sales woman has an ailing husband at home. The young lady serving you your appetizer takes her paycheck home to pay for her child’s dental bill. We all have stresses in life and often time, we take our stresses out on other people. They’re perceived as asses, idiots or whatever you want to call them. And while admittedly some just never seem to learn, others are simply having a bad day. As a result, I’ll think about the people in their lives before I start condemning the individual.
My final resolution is to find a “cause.” Such a thing doesn’t necessarily involve a lot of monetary contribution, but rather devotion. Perhaps it will involve something in which my kids will become active, such as raising funds for a dance studio or volunteering to be an Indian Guide. It might be more involvement in some charitable endeavor, whether it be prostate cancer awareness, blood (triglycerides) health or supporting the Lupus Foundation. I might not be able to contribute funds, but perhaps I can participate in a march, or donate the receipts from a garage sale. And with the election year ahead of us, maybe my cause will be politically motivated. Or maybe my cause will be something of which I have no awareness of at the moment. Whatever the case may be, I think it’s important to have a cause…and at this moment, I really don’t. I tend to go along with the flow and just try to be all things to all people and causes. But honestly, it’s time to embrace “something” bigger than myself. I hope this year to do that, no matter what it may be.
And that is what makes the upcoming year such an exciting time. Something new is bound to happen and I’m convinced it will all be good. So as a result, I resolve to be as good as what I intend to receive. Sounds like a fair deal to me.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The 2007 Christmas Letter
If you received a Christmas card with this blog site listed, welcome to the 2007 Estep Family Christmas Letter. If you’re a regular reader (Jeff), welcome as well…and Happy Holidays!
Like any year, it’s been a year of milestones and firsts. Luckily, there was a minimum of obstacles encountered this year, so I’d have to say it was a pretty good year.
Once again, we endured a winter in North Carolina virtually free of snow. I’m not sure whether the kids (Kaitie and Nathan if you’ve forgotten…) remember what snow is and I know for certain that they’ve never built a snowman. Keep your fingers crossed for some of the white stuff this coming year!
Despite the lack of snow, we still had quite a cold winter, so we headed down to Florida in March for a two-week vacation along with Kim’s parent’s (Wayne and Eileen). Week one was the most family-oriented as we spent our time in Orlando. We visited the Magic Kingdom for only one day, but what a great day it was for the kids. Never did mouse ears look so appropriate on two smiling faces. We also visited SeaWorld on a very blustery Florida Day. Otherwise, the weather cooperated beautifully.
The second week was spent at Daytona Beach at the Ocean Walk Resort. It was an incredible unit with a magnificent view, but our timing was off as we hit a very loud Spring Break week. Still, we had a ton of fun among the tattooed and pierced partying college kids, at least until the next-to-last day when Nathan put the “break” in Spring Break and busted his collar bone on the water slide. I think his “adventure” in the emergency room was his most exciting event of the entire trip.
Once we arrived back to NC, Nathan again garnered the attention of some medical folk when he had one of his molars extracted. It was the first out-patient surgery for either kid and I’m happy to say that the parents survived...barely. Nathan came out like a champ.
Both kids reached exciting milestones in the beginning of the summer. First of all, they both donned their blue mortar boards and graduated from Carolina Kids Academy. Not long after, they both reached their 5th birthday (I have NO idea how they became big kids so quickly). And then in mid-July, both kids started kindergarten at Olive Chapel Elementary, complete with back packs large enough (on them anyway) to serve as a sleeping bag. (For those wondering, the school system here has year-round classes). An extra-added bonus was having a visit from the kids’ Pap-pa and his new wife, Kitty. And for the record, I’m thrilled that Kitty is part of the family.
After six weeks of school, Kaitie and Nathan reached their first “track-out” time. In year-round talk, tracking-out means that they take a 3-week vacation between roughly nine weeks of classes. We took advantage of this time and traveled to Massenutten, VA where we met up with Dad and Kitty again as well as traveled alongside Wayne and Eileen .
School started back up in September, but Kim and I took a nice mini-vacation for our 11th Anniversary…an over-night getaway (our first alone since the kids were born) including a half-day spa treatment and a wonderful dinner (with no kid’s menu).
The celebration was a last-hurrah of sorts as I was ordered by my doctor to go on a fairly strict low-carb diet in order to get my cholesterol in check. I’m happy to report that my blood levels are in great shape and that the entire family is following a much healthier lifestyle. Not a bad way to wrap up the year.
We hope all of you had a healthy and wonderful 2007 and wish you the best throughout all the holidays and into 2008.
Like any year, it’s been a year of milestones and firsts. Luckily, there was a minimum of obstacles encountered this year, so I’d have to say it was a pretty good year.
Once again, we endured a winter in North Carolina virtually free of snow. I’m not sure whether the kids (Kaitie and Nathan if you’ve forgotten…) remember what snow is and I know for certain that they’ve never built a snowman. Keep your fingers crossed for some of the white stuff this coming year!
Despite the lack of snow, we still had quite a cold winter, so we headed down to Florida in March for a two-week vacation along with Kim’s parent’s (Wayne and Eileen). Week one was the most family-oriented as we spent our time in Orlando. We visited the Magic Kingdom for only one day, but what a great day it was for the kids. Never did mouse ears look so appropriate on two smiling faces. We also visited SeaWorld on a very blustery Florida Day. Otherwise, the weather cooperated beautifully.
The second week was spent at Daytona Beach at the Ocean Walk Resort. It was an incredible unit with a magnificent view, but our timing was off as we hit a very loud Spring Break week. Still, we had a ton of fun among the tattooed and pierced partying college kids, at least until the next-to-last day when Nathan put the “break” in Spring Break and busted his collar bone on the water slide. I think his “adventure” in the emergency room was his most exciting event of the entire trip.
Once we arrived back to NC, Nathan again garnered the attention of some medical folk when he had one of his molars extracted. It was the first out-patient surgery for either kid and I’m happy to say that the parents survived...barely. Nathan came out like a champ.
Both kids reached exciting milestones in the beginning of the summer. First of all, they both donned their blue mortar boards and graduated from Carolina Kids Academy. Not long after, they both reached their 5th birthday (I have NO idea how they became big kids so quickly). And then in mid-July, both kids started kindergarten at Olive Chapel Elementary, complete with back packs large enough (on them anyway) to serve as a sleeping bag. (For those wondering, the school system here has year-round classes). An extra-added bonus was having a visit from the kids’ Pap-pa and his new wife, Kitty. And for the record, I’m thrilled that Kitty is part of the family.
After six weeks of school, Kaitie and Nathan reached their first “track-out” time. In year-round talk, tracking-out means that they take a 3-week vacation between roughly nine weeks of classes. We took advantage of this time and traveled to Massenutten, VA where we met up with Dad and Kitty again as well as traveled alongside Wayne and Eileen .
School started back up in September, but Kim and I took a nice mini-vacation for our 11th Anniversary…an over-night getaway (our first alone since the kids were born) including a half-day spa treatment and a wonderful dinner (with no kid’s menu).
The celebration was a last-hurrah of sorts as I was ordered by my doctor to go on a fairly strict low-carb diet in order to get my cholesterol in check. I’m happy to report that my blood levels are in great shape and that the entire family is following a much healthier lifestyle. Not a bad way to wrap up the year.
We hope all of you had a healthy and wonderful 2007 and wish you the best throughout all the holidays and into 2008.
Monday, December 10, 2007
The Results Are In
If you recall, back in September, I was presented some alarming numbers regarding my blood health. Basically, my doctor accused me of "streamlining carbs" or "going on a drinking binge" because my cholesterol and triglycerides were so out of whack. After the appointment, I set some goals to improve my health, specifically the blood health, by my December 5 lab appointment. Well, the results are in.
To remind you, my measurements in September were as such:
And so is my doctor. He sat flabbergasted as he read my results, telling me he'd never seen such a turn-around. Then he floored me when made one statement. "How did you do it?"
I told him about my diet, and he literally wrote down the foods I ate and even the recipe for the ricotta cheese dessert! Naturally, the medication of Zocor and Niaspan was a major factor in my results, but the good doctor was quick to point out that there is no way I could have had these results without my changes in diet.
So, at this point, I'd have to say my diet has been a success. My goal was met, but that doesn't mean celebrate with a 4-pound bag of M&Ms and a tray of cupcakes. No, my celebration will be to continue to live as I have for the last 3 months. I'll still crave those snacks; much like an alcoholic craves a drink. But when I fall off the wagon, I plan to be smart about it (like the single servings enjoyed over Thanksgiving). Christmas sweets and snacks will be enjoyed to a minimum and healthier snacks will take their place. I've learned that it's possible to live within this lifestyle, not just exist.
As for new goals, my next appointment is in 6 months (June 4, 2008 for blood work). My goal is to be a couple of pounds lighter (under 150) and to maintain the same blood levels. Right now, I'm still wearing the same slacks. They might be a bit looser now, but not as much as one might think. I hope to be down to that 33-inch waist in 6 months and hope to be in a better exercise routine.
Thanks to everyone who has offered encouragement, recipes and stories of your own over the last 3 months. My fight for better blood is not over, but will continue the rest of my life. I look forward to having you join me.
To remind you, my measurements in September were as such:
- Weight = 164 pounds (although I was 166 when I started my diet)
- Triglycerides (TGs) = 667 (Less than 150 is preferred)
- Total Cholesterol = 260 (Less than 200 preferred)
- HDL (good cholesterol) = 41 (Greater than 40 preferred)
- LDL (bad cholesterol) = Unmeasurable due to high TGs (Less than 130 preferred)
- Weight = Less than 150 pounds
- Triglycerides below 300
- Total cholesterol less than 175
- HDL around 45
- LDL, no goals set, but was hoping for below 130.
- Weight = 151 (close enough…lol)
- Triglycerides = 107
- Total cholesterol = 138
- HDL = 60
- LDL = 57
And so is my doctor. He sat flabbergasted as he read my results, telling me he'd never seen such a turn-around. Then he floored me when made one statement. "How did you do it?"
I told him about my diet, and he literally wrote down the foods I ate and even the recipe for the ricotta cheese dessert! Naturally, the medication of Zocor and Niaspan was a major factor in my results, but the good doctor was quick to point out that there is no way I could have had these results without my changes in diet.
So, at this point, I'd have to say my diet has been a success. My goal was met, but that doesn't mean celebrate with a 4-pound bag of M&Ms and a tray of cupcakes. No, my celebration will be to continue to live as I have for the last 3 months. I'll still crave those snacks; much like an alcoholic craves a drink. But when I fall off the wagon, I plan to be smart about it (like the single servings enjoyed over Thanksgiving). Christmas sweets and snacks will be enjoyed to a minimum and healthier snacks will take their place. I've learned that it's possible to live within this lifestyle, not just exist.
As for new goals, my next appointment is in 6 months (June 4, 2008 for blood work). My goal is to be a couple of pounds lighter (under 150) and to maintain the same blood levels. Right now, I'm still wearing the same slacks. They might be a bit looser now, but not as much as one might think. I hope to be down to that 33-inch waist in 6 months and hope to be in a better exercise routine.
Thanks to everyone who has offered encouragement, recipes and stories of your own over the last 3 months. My fight for better blood is not over, but will continue the rest of my life. I look forward to having you join me.
Monday, November 19, 2007
The Spirit of Christmas is On the Air
We’ve all gone to the mall or discount store before Halloween and noticed the shelves already stocked with Christmas items. Each year, it seems to happen earlier to the point that it’s almost a cliché joke to hear Holiday music while one is still wearing shorts and sun block. Well now, you can hear that same Christmas music in the comfort of your own home, without tossing on your old Bing Crosby LPs or your Mannheim Steamroller CD.
Last season in Raleigh, there was one particular radio station that played all Christmas music. They used to be Sunny 93.9…the station that overplayed Elton John and Celine Dion. On November 1 of 2006, they became all holiday music, all the time. Well, at least until after Christmas, when they became Kiss 93.9. The format changed from easy listening to “feel good” music…ranging from 80’s dance to today’s more upbeat music. Frankly, I enjoy listening to 93.9 now and then when other songs hit “overplay” status on my preferred stations. I assumed they would convert to Christmas on November 1 again this year, but hearing “You Dropped a Bomb on Me” by the Gap Band convinced me that they canned the holiday genre.
Eventually, I began to wonder if any station would be playing holiday tunes this year. Admittedly, it was pretty early in the season, but with all the store decorations flooding my senses, it made me wonder if in fact we’d have an official Christmas station this year. As I scanned the radio dial, I found that 102.9 indeed was “Carolina’s Official Christmas Station”…even endorsed by Santa himself. Christmas had been saved! There was now a guaranteed 24-hour sound track to accompany all yuletide activities. Still, it’s pretty early in the year for Nat King Cole and Jose Feliciano. After all, this was around November 10…nearly two weeks before Thanksgiving!
In the morning, I generally listen to 101.5. They have played the same adult contemporary style music for as long as I can remember. The music is okay, but I typically listened to their “morning show” deejays. In fact, they’ve even talked about a couple of my blogs on the air, so I have a special place within me to listen to these guys. Well, on November 14, I tuned in as I normally do, and lo and behold, Elvis’ “Blue Christmas” blared from my speakers. Surely this was only a once-per-hour type of airing. But subsequent songs proved that assumption wrong. Mix 101.5 was now broadcasting exclusively from the North Pole.
Over this past weekend, I was painting my bedroom (another blog-worthy venture in itself) and turned on my son’s boom box for accompaniment. After a while, I realized I just wasn’t in the Christmas music mood, so I turned from 101.5 back to 93.9. What I heard was good Ol’ Bing singing “White Christmas!” Could this be the right station? Yes it was. 93.9 is now playing “Kiss-mas” music until the big day itself. So we now have not one, not two, but three “official” Holiday music stations in the area (and not one adult contemporary station).
I suppose I can understand the logic. After all, what other genre music exists where so many people know the words to so many songs? I dare you to listen to an hour of Christmas music without humming or singing along to at least one of the songs. And what other type of music invites the likes of Andy Williams, Josh Groban, Annie Lennox, Faith Hill, Mariah Carey, and even Twisted Sister equally onto the airwaves? When you think about it, as irritating as so much yuletide music can be, it’s the most popular music there is. So what radio station general manager wouldn’t want to pump up advertising revenue with a little Jingle Bells and Little Drummer Boy?
As I close my thoughts, Gene Autry is crooning “Here Comes Santa Claus.” My toe is tapping, I find myself humming, and I think of my kids’ impending giddiness at the thought of Saint Nick. You know, maybe Christmas music should be played more often after all.
Last season in Raleigh, there was one particular radio station that played all Christmas music. They used to be Sunny 93.9…the station that overplayed Elton John and Celine Dion. On November 1 of 2006, they became all holiday music, all the time. Well, at least until after Christmas, when they became Kiss 93.9. The format changed from easy listening to “feel good” music…ranging from 80’s dance to today’s more upbeat music. Frankly, I enjoy listening to 93.9 now and then when other songs hit “overplay” status on my preferred stations. I assumed they would convert to Christmas on November 1 again this year, but hearing “You Dropped a Bomb on Me” by the Gap Band convinced me that they canned the holiday genre.
Eventually, I began to wonder if any station would be playing holiday tunes this year. Admittedly, it was pretty early in the season, but with all the store decorations flooding my senses, it made me wonder if in fact we’d have an official Christmas station this year. As I scanned the radio dial, I found that 102.9 indeed was “Carolina’s Official Christmas Station”…even endorsed by Santa himself. Christmas had been saved! There was now a guaranteed 24-hour sound track to accompany all yuletide activities. Still, it’s pretty early in the year for Nat King Cole and Jose Feliciano. After all, this was around November 10…nearly two weeks before Thanksgiving!
In the morning, I generally listen to 101.5. They have played the same adult contemporary style music for as long as I can remember. The music is okay, but I typically listened to their “morning show” deejays. In fact, they’ve even talked about a couple of my blogs on the air, so I have a special place within me to listen to these guys. Well, on November 14, I tuned in as I normally do, and lo and behold, Elvis’ “Blue Christmas” blared from my speakers. Surely this was only a once-per-hour type of airing. But subsequent songs proved that assumption wrong. Mix 101.5 was now broadcasting exclusively from the North Pole.
Over this past weekend, I was painting my bedroom (another blog-worthy venture in itself) and turned on my son’s boom box for accompaniment. After a while, I realized I just wasn’t in the Christmas music mood, so I turned from 101.5 back to 93.9. What I heard was good Ol’ Bing singing “White Christmas!” Could this be the right station? Yes it was. 93.9 is now playing “Kiss-mas” music until the big day itself. So we now have not one, not two, but three “official” Holiday music stations in the area (and not one adult contemporary station).
I suppose I can understand the logic. After all, what other genre music exists where so many people know the words to so many songs? I dare you to listen to an hour of Christmas music without humming or singing along to at least one of the songs. And what other type of music invites the likes of Andy Williams, Josh Groban, Annie Lennox, Faith Hill, Mariah Carey, and even Twisted Sister equally onto the airwaves? When you think about it, as irritating as so much yuletide music can be, it’s the most popular music there is. So what radio station general manager wouldn’t want to pump up advertising revenue with a little Jingle Bells and Little Drummer Boy?
As I close my thoughts, Gene Autry is crooning “Here Comes Santa Claus.” My toe is tapping, I find myself humming, and I think of my kids’ impending giddiness at the thought of Saint Nick. You know, maybe Christmas music should be played more often after all.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
South Beach Thoughts
It’s been over 6 weeks since I’ve entered the South Beach lifestyle. I’m about 12 pounds lighter now and thought I’d present a few highs and lows from my journey thus far:
Biggest Surprise: It’s not so hard. I’ve been amazed at how easy it’s been to fix dinners and even find some meals available at restaurants. Just make sure you like salads and chicken.
Biggest Challenge: Exercising. I continue to have trouble finding time to exercise the last few pounds away. My belt tightens and my slacks are bigger, but I feel like if I exercised a little more (a LOT more) I’d actually go down a couple inches in the waist.
Biggest Frustration: Not knowing the effect on my blood until December 5th. I know the weight loss is helping my overall health, but as I’ve said before, it’s about my blood health. They don’t make a triglyceride scale to stand on…yet.
Best Diet Meal: I’ve learned to cook sirloin steak consistently well, along with grilled peppers and other vegetables. However, as god as the George Forman grill is, it dries out steak WAY too much. One must cook it up on a skillet if not grilled outside.
Worst Diet Meal: It’s a tie between two meals I’ve prepared. The pan-fried salmon was quite good, but the smoke created nearly brought in the fire department. That’s one dish best cooked on the outdoor grill. The one I didn’t like was the baked cod. I think cod is meant to be fried or grilled, not baked. Rubber bands tasted better.
Best Diet Dessert: My creation of Cocoa Ricotta Crème. Take ½ cup of part-skim ricotta cheese, one packet of sweetener (Splenda), ¼ teaspoon of extract (I use both vanilla and peppermint extracts and my wife likes coconut), and ½ teaspoon of unsweetened cocoa. Mix together, top it with Cool Whip Free…sprinkle a pinch of cocoa for good looks…and enjoy! However, make sure you use Polly-O brand ricotta. Others have a cottage cheese texture which takes away from the experience.
Worst Diet Dessert: Ricotta Crème without the flavoring. I only endured that once. Thank god for cocoa.
Best Cheat: I am an M&M freak. I love my M&M’s. Of course, any type of candy is basically banned within this diet, so this was a worry for me. I’ve found, however, that I can satisfy my cravings by simply having 2 to 4 individual M&M’s. Not four handfuls like I used to eat, but just four M&M’s. This handles my chocolate fix without gulping down a ton of carbs.
Biggest Grocery Frustration: In the interest of time, I usually cook (or rather, heat up) a Jimmy Dean omelet for breakfast rather than cook my own eggs. The two most available types are the Three Cheese and the Ham and Cheese. They also make a Western Omelet that quite delicious, but only Kroger carries it. For the last 3 weeks, they’ve been out of the Western Omelet. Dang it…why doesn’t anyone carry the best one?
Best Grocery Surprise: South Beach is EVERYWHERE. I have to question the 11 grams of carbs South Beach approved cookies, but they claim to be acceptable under Phase 2. Hopefully, the people at South Beach, Inc. haven’t merely sold out to Kraft to market their product and that these foods really are good for you. The fact is, no processed or frozen packaged food is as good as home cooking. But living in this hectic drive-thru microwave world, it’s a decent compromise to find an "acceptable" meal now and then.
Best Side Effect: There have been two side effects from this new lifestyle in addition to weight-loss and (hopefully) healthier blood: an appreciation of "better" food and a more healthy…um…morning bathroom session. Okay, so maybe this is TMI, but frankly, when I was on a higher carb and higher fat diet, my time on the "throne" was not the healthiest experience. Since increasing the fiber and cutting the fat, let’s just say that I leave with a healthier feeling.
Worst Side Effect: not so much from the diet, but from the medication. Luckily, I’m not experiencing the predicted hot flashes when I take my full-dosage of Niaspan. However, a more subtle side effect is itching. There are some mornings where I swear there’s a ton of ants crawling on me or biting me. It’s quite irritating, but luckily not an every day occurrence.
So, the journey continues. I’m hoping to be a few pounds lighter by my doc appointment on December 5, and also hope that my belt will tighten by one more hole. So far, it’s been an easier change than expected, although I do still miss the occasional donut and bag of M&M’s. Still…it’ll all be worth it.
Friday, November 02, 2007
Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!
I suppose when most people approach an upcoming birthday, they remember celebrations from their past. When I have such thoughts around my birthday, I tend to recall goulish masks and scary costumes. (Thank goodness my birthday is on Halloween or else I’d need major therapy). Personally, I recall sheets worn over my head in a blinding fashion, my Man from U.N.C.L.E. mask that nearly suffocated me, and a devil costume that my mom hand-sewed for me, complete with pointy tail. As I aged into my teens, the disguises faded to the yearly dressing as a "hobo" merely to pass the costume cops so that I could beg for candy. Upon entering college, youth was reborn (with the help of a keg of Iron City Light) as I recall dressing as Zorro and a couple of other less flamboyant characters. But no costume rests deep within my memory as well as the one I wore in my late 20’s. In the early 1990’s, I not only dressed the part, I became Beetlejuice.
My incarnation as Beetlejuice occurred completely by accident. As Halloween approached in 1992, my girlfriend at the time insisted we visit Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Most areas across this country have at least one town within driving distance that is famous for their intense Halloween celebration. Chapel Hill is such a town. Every October 31, costume-clad college kids gather by the thousands to Franklin Street to display their creativity, ingenuity and depravity. (82,000 people attended the celebration this year). Three types of people gathered on "The Hill"…the observers who merely watched in amazement, the slightly-costumed who walked the streets (usually with beer in hand), and those that appeared to have been dressed by Hollywood’s best special effects artists. For this particular Halloween of 1992, I was content to be an observer, but my girlfriend insisted on dressing to some extent. I had no objections since I’ve always enjoyed the spirit of the holiday.
I found an old pair of surgical scrubs and frizzed out my hair (which was a LOT longer back then) so that I’d look like a mad doctor. I added black circles around my eyes for that crazed effect. I have to admit, for a 30-minute plan, my costume looked pretty decent. We ventured to Chapel Hill, parking about ½ mile away, and was immediately lost in the crowd. I was amazed, as this was my first visit to the celebration. Frat brothers dressed as a group of Vikings riding a boat…9-foot tall monsters…and plenty of other expertly dressed partygoers. And as I said before, there were thousands of costumed individuals roaming the street. However, no mater where I walked, I kept hearing someone yell, "Beetlejuice!" Being a fan of the movie, I kept looking around for someone donning the black and white striped suit and a hideous mask, but I never saw such a person. "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!" It finally dawned on us that they were yelling at me! While my focus was on the mad-scientist look, I never realized that I had such a resemblance to Beetlejuice, but in fact, the hair and the black eyes created a remarkable likeness. From that point on, I claimed to be dressed as Beetlejuice, but in surgical scrubs.
The next year, I found a white sports coat and white pants at the Goodwill store and applied black duct tape all over. I also let my hair grow out from the beginning of August until Halloween and bought an assortment of "Beetlejuice-like" props such as large bugs to chew on and plenty of green, black, red and white make-up. I also rented the movie and watched it several times so that I could learn the nuances and voice. By All Hallow’s Eve, I had transformed into Beetlejuice.
I must have pulled it off, because I won several costume contests over the next few years. One award was given at a friend’s party where everyone pitched in 5 bucks. I think I won about $150. I also entered a contest at an Applebee’s where I won second prize, which was a neon bar sign that I sold in a garage sale the next year. The winner was a very bosomy Elvira. Most of the judges were male. The biggest prize and thrill of the season was when I attended a contest at local bar. Hundreds of folks gathered and I ended up winning "Best Impersonation." First prize was a trip for two to the Bahamas. You would be amazed at how many attractive women hit on a Beetlejuice-looking guy when he has such a prize in his possession. However, I never cashed in on that prize. It turned out there were too many fees involved to make it anywhere near "free."
The greatest reward I received as Beetlejuice was on trick-or-treat nights. The neighborhood kids delighted at seeing Beetlejuice greet them at the door, although admittedly, the younger ones were a little intimidated. I probably caused many children to have a fear of clowns after the parents assured the tikes that I was "just a clown." But the funny thing is that kids would come by in the summer time and ask if Beetlejuice was going to be back the next year. Even the ones that were scared asked that. Despite the silliness of it all, the kids liked it. And that is a better reward than any neon sign or faux trip to the Bahamas.
The Beetlejuice costume has been long tossed aside…partly because my hair (what’s left of it) just couldn’t take the punishment, and mostly because I’ve moved on to other things in my life. I have a new "girlfriend" (I now call her "wife") and I have two little trick-or-treaters of my own. Perhaps one day I’ll resurrect Beetlejuice, but right now, he’s best tucked away as a pleasant birthday memory. From here on out, my future memories will include Spiderman and a Ladybug, and whatever else my little ones dress up as in the future. And those memories will be better than ever.
My incarnation as Beetlejuice occurred completely by accident. As Halloween approached in 1992, my girlfriend at the time insisted we visit Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Most areas across this country have at least one town within driving distance that is famous for their intense Halloween celebration. Chapel Hill is such a town. Every October 31, costume-clad college kids gather by the thousands to Franklin Street to display their creativity, ingenuity and depravity. (82,000 people attended the celebration this year). Three types of people gathered on "The Hill"…the observers who merely watched in amazement, the slightly-costumed who walked the streets (usually with beer in hand), and those that appeared to have been dressed by Hollywood’s best special effects artists. For this particular Halloween of 1992, I was content to be an observer, but my girlfriend insisted on dressing to some extent. I had no objections since I’ve always enjoyed the spirit of the holiday.
I found an old pair of surgical scrubs and frizzed out my hair (which was a LOT longer back then) so that I’d look like a mad doctor. I added black circles around my eyes for that crazed effect. I have to admit, for a 30-minute plan, my costume looked pretty decent. We ventured to Chapel Hill, parking about ½ mile away, and was immediately lost in the crowd. I was amazed, as this was my first visit to the celebration. Frat brothers dressed as a group of Vikings riding a boat…9-foot tall monsters…and plenty of other expertly dressed partygoers. And as I said before, there were thousands of costumed individuals roaming the street. However, no mater where I walked, I kept hearing someone yell, "Beetlejuice!" Being a fan of the movie, I kept looking around for someone donning the black and white striped suit and a hideous mask, but I never saw such a person. "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!" It finally dawned on us that they were yelling at me! While my focus was on the mad-scientist look, I never realized that I had such a resemblance to Beetlejuice, but in fact, the hair and the black eyes created a remarkable likeness. From that point on, I claimed to be dressed as Beetlejuice, but in surgical scrubs.
The next year, I found a white sports coat and white pants at the Goodwill store and applied black duct tape all over. I also let my hair grow out from the beginning of August until Halloween and bought an assortment of "Beetlejuice-like" props such as large bugs to chew on and plenty of green, black, red and white make-up. I also rented the movie and watched it several times so that I could learn the nuances and voice. By All Hallow’s Eve, I had transformed into Beetlejuice.
I must have pulled it off, because I won several costume contests over the next few years. One award was given at a friend’s party where everyone pitched in 5 bucks. I think I won about $150. I also entered a contest at an Applebee’s where I won second prize, which was a neon bar sign that I sold in a garage sale the next year. The winner was a very bosomy Elvira. Most of the judges were male. The biggest prize and thrill of the season was when I attended a contest at local bar. Hundreds of folks gathered and I ended up winning "Best Impersonation." First prize was a trip for two to the Bahamas. You would be amazed at how many attractive women hit on a Beetlejuice-looking guy when he has such a prize in his possession. However, I never cashed in on that prize. It turned out there were too many fees involved to make it anywhere near "free."
The greatest reward I received as Beetlejuice was on trick-or-treat nights. The neighborhood kids delighted at seeing Beetlejuice greet them at the door, although admittedly, the younger ones were a little intimidated. I probably caused many children to have a fear of clowns after the parents assured the tikes that I was "just a clown." But the funny thing is that kids would come by in the summer time and ask if Beetlejuice was going to be back the next year. Even the ones that were scared asked that. Despite the silliness of it all, the kids liked it. And that is a better reward than any neon sign or faux trip to the Bahamas.
The Beetlejuice costume has been long tossed aside…partly because my hair (what’s left of it) just couldn’t take the punishment, and mostly because I’ve moved on to other things in my life. I have a new "girlfriend" (I now call her "wife") and I have two little trick-or-treaters of my own. Perhaps one day I’ll resurrect Beetlejuice, but right now, he’s best tucked away as a pleasant birthday memory. From here on out, my future memories will include Spiderman and a Ladybug, and whatever else my little ones dress up as in the future. And those memories will be better than ever.
Monday, October 22, 2007
A Year Blogged By
It’s been a year or so since I began writing a blog. I started doing so because a few people suggested that I should stretch my writing muscles. I like sharing my thoughts without conveying too much of my personal life and my hope has been to make you smile, cause a reaction and inspire you to think a little. I seem to have done a little of each judging by my readers’ reactions. I’d like to review my first year a bit here and perhaps solicit even more reaction.
I’ve blogged about a wide range of topics. One of the more controversial stances I took was regarding Breast Cancer Awareness (“Not just Breast Cancer Awareness...but ALL Cancer Awareness”). My intent was not so much that the pink-ribbon campaign was over-blown, but rather other types of cancer were being ignored. I most certainly support any effort to alleviate breast cancer and have no problem “buying pink.” However, I’d like to see a more aggressive “blue ribbon” campaign towards prostate cancer. As I type that, I imagine Pabst would be the primary sponsor of such a campaign, but there seriously is a blue ribbon effort to increase prostate cancer awareness. Sadly, since this is probably the first you’ve heard of it, I suppose their efforts are not too successful. Regardless, please understand that I’m not “Anti Pink Ribbon,” but pro any ribbon towards cancer awareness.
I forwarded “The Christmas Ball,” about the golf ball that my brother and I exchange each year, to several local media, including radio and newspaper. I was pretty thrilled to see a brief mention of my story on a newspaper website, and even more excited to hear the local “morning crew” talk about this holiday tradition at length on the radio. I gladly wrote down the suggestions that they and their listeners suggested for future exchanges. Although I have to admit, I’m not sure how to place a beat-up and burnt golf ball into a puppy. Yes, that was a real suggestion.
Another piece I sent into the local media was “Kaitlyn and Katlin.” about the poor 4 year-old girl that was found decapitated by her own father. I was so furious with that murder that I forwarded my blog to many people. While I never saw or heard mention of it in such print or on the air, I did receive a few comments from a radio DJ and one local reporter. I just wish that reporter would have shared my comments in the paper.
It seems, much like “Kaitlyn and Katlin,” most of my “venting” pieces get the most fired-up responses. My take on Kwanzaa (“Spell Checking Kwanzaa”) resulted in “Hell yeah!” agreement as well as cries of racism. If anything, it was “holiday-ism.” “Advice to the Stupid” brought forth sheepish admissions from dear friends that they were the idiot drivers toward whom I was complaining. Like they say, love the sinner, hate the sin. Just don’t take offense when I give you a one-finger salute…I still love you. And I’ll still wish you all Happy Holidays come Christmas time, no matter how many people claim I’m either non-Christian, un-caring or are in agreement with my point.
Probably the one blog I’m asked about most (and the one I’m most proud of) is the one about my dad writing a book (“My Dad the Author”)…with most inquires about how his book is doing. I’m happy to report, “quite well!” Frankly, after selling his first couple dozen in the first weeks, I wasn’t sure just how successful he’d be beyond that. I liked the book and others around dad liked the book, but I figured the demand would be finite, and that he’d have trouble selling past the first couple hundred. I was wrong. So far he’s sold about 800 books! It seems his top niche is to attend Nitro High School class reunions and peddle his book there. At the Class of 1957 Reunion a few weeks ago, he sold a remarkable eighteen books. And in early September, the Charleston Gazette-Mail printed yet another story about Dad, complete with a very handsome photo. But his success hasn’t come merely in book sales. Shortly after I visited Dad last October, he sent a book to a lady he attended school with so many years ago, Emma “Kitty” Lyons. Kitty sent a note along with her order referring to Dad as a “kindred spirit.” He likes to joke that the term impressed him very much, especially after he looked it up I the dictionary. Seeing as how neither Dad nor Kitty owned a computer, an old-fashioned pen-pal relationship began, which evolved into the occasional phone call and then into a number of phone calls a day. Finally, in a move that surprised both my brother and I, Dad traveled to Fort Myers, Florida to visit Kitty for an extended stay. That visit turned into a wedding ceremony and a very happy and reborn Dad. And for the record, I approve of Kitty. She’s a great gal.
There have been plenty of unwritten blogs that I’ve composed in my head, but never had time to write. The aforementioned addition to our family was certainly blogging material (Tentatively titled, “E-Step-Mom”), and when you’re the father of 5 year-old twins, there’s an unlimited amount of observations, joy and heartache I could share. I had several pieces planned on our March vacation to Florida alone, from watching the kids’ first experience at Disney World and Sea World, to our first LONG road trip, to spending a family week at Daytona Beach during Spring Break Week. (No kids, Daddy was NOT looking at the tattoo on that young girl’s backside.) I was fortunate enough to have time to share some kid-related thoughts in “Pop and Circle Dance” and “Gosh darn, son-of-a-gun…this friggin’ crap has me all screwed up to heck.” It seems that kid stories always get the most laughs, and I hope to share more in the future.
Finally, you’ve probably noticed that my blogging has focused on my health lately. I hope not to bore you with statistics on triglycerides and cholesterol, or with whining about my lifestyle change along the South Beach and beyond. So far, the response from my readers has been very supportive and I thank each and every one of you.
Many have given me encouragement to continue writing beyond my expectations, and others have offered their own blogs as inspiration and mentoring for me to continue mine. I hope to keep you coming back to my pages and ask that you spread the word if you have a reaction to my thoughts. After all, it’s your reaction that keeps me writing in the first place.
I’ve blogged about a wide range of topics. One of the more controversial stances I took was regarding Breast Cancer Awareness (“Not just Breast Cancer Awareness...but ALL Cancer Awareness”). My intent was not so much that the pink-ribbon campaign was over-blown, but rather other types of cancer were being ignored. I most certainly support any effort to alleviate breast cancer and have no problem “buying pink.” However, I’d like to see a more aggressive “blue ribbon” campaign towards prostate cancer. As I type that, I imagine Pabst would be the primary sponsor of such a campaign, but there seriously is a blue ribbon effort to increase prostate cancer awareness. Sadly, since this is probably the first you’ve heard of it, I suppose their efforts are not too successful. Regardless, please understand that I’m not “Anti Pink Ribbon,” but pro any ribbon towards cancer awareness.
I forwarded “The Christmas Ball,” about the golf ball that my brother and I exchange each year, to several local media, including radio and newspaper. I was pretty thrilled to see a brief mention of my story on a newspaper website, and even more excited to hear the local “morning crew” talk about this holiday tradition at length on the radio. I gladly wrote down the suggestions that they and their listeners suggested for future exchanges. Although I have to admit, I’m not sure how to place a beat-up and burnt golf ball into a puppy. Yes, that was a real suggestion.
Another piece I sent into the local media was “Kaitlyn and Katlin.” about the poor 4 year-old girl that was found decapitated by her own father. I was so furious with that murder that I forwarded my blog to many people. While I never saw or heard mention of it in such print or on the air, I did receive a few comments from a radio DJ and one local reporter. I just wish that reporter would have shared my comments in the paper.
It seems, much like “Kaitlyn and Katlin,” most of my “venting” pieces get the most fired-up responses. My take on Kwanzaa (“Spell Checking Kwanzaa”) resulted in “Hell yeah!” agreement as well as cries of racism. If anything, it was “holiday-ism.” “Advice to the Stupid” brought forth sheepish admissions from dear friends that they were the idiot drivers toward whom I was complaining. Like they say, love the sinner, hate the sin. Just don’t take offense when I give you a one-finger salute…I still love you. And I’ll still wish you all Happy Holidays come Christmas time, no matter how many people claim I’m either non-Christian, un-caring or are in agreement with my point.
Probably the one blog I’m asked about most (and the one I’m most proud of) is the one about my dad writing a book (“My Dad the Author”)…with most inquires about how his book is doing. I’m happy to report, “quite well!” Frankly, after selling his first couple dozen in the first weeks, I wasn’t sure just how successful he’d be beyond that. I liked the book and others around dad liked the book, but I figured the demand would be finite, and that he’d have trouble selling past the first couple hundred. I was wrong. So far he’s sold about 800 books! It seems his top niche is to attend Nitro High School class reunions and peddle his book there. At the Class of 1957 Reunion a few weeks ago, he sold a remarkable eighteen books. And in early September, the Charleston Gazette-Mail printed yet another story about Dad, complete with a very handsome photo. But his success hasn’t come merely in book sales. Shortly after I visited Dad last October, he sent a book to a lady he attended school with so many years ago, Emma “Kitty” Lyons. Kitty sent a note along with her order referring to Dad as a “kindred spirit.” He likes to joke that the term impressed him very much, especially after he looked it up I the dictionary. Seeing as how neither Dad nor Kitty owned a computer, an old-fashioned pen-pal relationship began, which evolved into the occasional phone call and then into a number of phone calls a day. Finally, in a move that surprised both my brother and I, Dad traveled to Fort Myers, Florida to visit Kitty for an extended stay. That visit turned into a wedding ceremony and a very happy and reborn Dad. And for the record, I approve of Kitty. She’s a great gal.
There have been plenty of unwritten blogs that I’ve composed in my head, but never had time to write. The aforementioned addition to our family was certainly blogging material (Tentatively titled, “E-Step-Mom”), and when you’re the father of 5 year-old twins, there’s an unlimited amount of observations, joy and heartache I could share. I had several pieces planned on our March vacation to Florida alone, from watching the kids’ first experience at Disney World and Sea World, to our first LONG road trip, to spending a family week at Daytona Beach during Spring Break Week. (No kids, Daddy was NOT looking at the tattoo on that young girl’s backside.) I was fortunate enough to have time to share some kid-related thoughts in “Pop and Circle Dance” and “Gosh darn, son-of-a-gun…this friggin’ crap has me all screwed up to heck.” It seems that kid stories always get the most laughs, and I hope to share more in the future.
Finally, you’ve probably noticed that my blogging has focused on my health lately. I hope not to bore you with statistics on triglycerides and cholesterol, or with whining about my lifestyle change along the South Beach and beyond. So far, the response from my readers has been very supportive and I thank each and every one of you.
Many have given me encouragement to continue writing beyond my expectations, and others have offered their own blogs as inspiration and mentoring for me to continue mine. I hope to keep you coming back to my pages and ask that you spread the word if you have a reaction to my thoughts. After all, it’s your reaction that keeps me writing in the first place.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Entering a New Phase
Phase One is complete, and let Phase Two begin! Whoo hoo!
Okay, so Phase One was not nearly as bad as I first thought. Sure, I’m sick of salads and meat, but by the end of the two weeks, I had my homemade dressing recipe down just right and have been almost looking forward to my morning V8 (almost). My nighttime ricotta cheese dessert has been refined to be such an enjoyable experience, I may continue to savor the cheesy treat beyond this first Phase.
So what were the results of Phase One? Sadly, not as good as advertised. The "Book of South Beach" claims that the average weight loss from Phase One is typically 13 pounds. Obviously, some people have to have a lesser weight loss to keep that average down, and I was one such person. After losing 7 pounds the first week, I actually gained 0.4 pounds the second week. I was a bit discouraged this morning after I weighed in, but that disappointment was soon replaced by quiet jubilation, as I had to pull my belt one hole tighter to hold my pants up.
I have to constantly remind myself that it’s about my blood and not my weight. Sure, I want to lose a total of 15 to 20 pounds, but it doesn’t have to be lost overnight. The truth is, although I followed the diet over the weekend, I ate a packaged "South Beach" dinner for lunch yesterday and a Wendy’s Chili and side salad for dinner last night. Again, both are within the diet parameters, but the salt content was probably high on both and that led to an equal increase in weight for both my wife and I. In fact, I was 1.8 pounds heavier today than yesterday, so it’s all basically relative to the previous meal. And that’s why I say I want to lose 15 to 20 pounds, and not 17.5 pounds. One needs to shoot for a goal range and not a specific weight. A person’s weight probably fluctuates 2 pounds either way, depending on the day and the last meal. But if you stay within a 5-pound range, then you’ve stayed the course. So you see, I’m not really all that disappointed because I’m keeping it all in perspective.
As for the South Beach dinners, I find it funny how some of their own food contradicts their diet parameters. For instance, they suggest that only high fiber cereal with 3 grams or less of carbs be consumed. The South Beach brand cereal has 4 grams. What is boils down to is, despite packaged foods and restaurant faire being within a diet’s guidelines, nothing beats home-cooked fresh food, especially for weight loss. With that in mind, I’m sure I’ll have good results in the next few days.
I keep saying, "it’s about the blood." In case you’re wondering, my next lab work is scheduled for mid-December. I’ll try not to be too preachy about it or too whiny about not knowing my blood counts until then. You’ll all be the first to know what they are.
More on my life tanning on the South Beach in a few days.
(Update…I wrote this piece on Monday, but due to my busy schedule on Monday and Tuesday, I wasn’t able to post this until Wednesday. Since writing this account, the salt effects have worn off and I’m now down an additional 2 pounds!)
Okay, so Phase One was not nearly as bad as I first thought. Sure, I’m sick of salads and meat, but by the end of the two weeks, I had my homemade dressing recipe down just right and have been almost looking forward to my morning V8 (almost). My nighttime ricotta cheese dessert has been refined to be such an enjoyable experience, I may continue to savor the cheesy treat beyond this first Phase.
So what were the results of Phase One? Sadly, not as good as advertised. The "Book of South Beach" claims that the average weight loss from Phase One is typically 13 pounds. Obviously, some people have to have a lesser weight loss to keep that average down, and I was one such person. After losing 7 pounds the first week, I actually gained 0.4 pounds the second week. I was a bit discouraged this morning after I weighed in, but that disappointment was soon replaced by quiet jubilation, as I had to pull my belt one hole tighter to hold my pants up.
I have to constantly remind myself that it’s about my blood and not my weight. Sure, I want to lose a total of 15 to 20 pounds, but it doesn’t have to be lost overnight. The truth is, although I followed the diet over the weekend, I ate a packaged "South Beach" dinner for lunch yesterday and a Wendy’s Chili and side salad for dinner last night. Again, both are within the diet parameters, but the salt content was probably high on both and that led to an equal increase in weight for both my wife and I. In fact, I was 1.8 pounds heavier today than yesterday, so it’s all basically relative to the previous meal. And that’s why I say I want to lose 15 to 20 pounds, and not 17.5 pounds. One needs to shoot for a goal range and not a specific weight. A person’s weight probably fluctuates 2 pounds either way, depending on the day and the last meal. But if you stay within a 5-pound range, then you’ve stayed the course. So you see, I’m not really all that disappointed because I’m keeping it all in perspective.
As for the South Beach dinners, I find it funny how some of their own food contradicts their diet parameters. For instance, they suggest that only high fiber cereal with 3 grams or less of carbs be consumed. The South Beach brand cereal has 4 grams. What is boils down to is, despite packaged foods and restaurant faire being within a diet’s guidelines, nothing beats home-cooked fresh food, especially for weight loss. With that in mind, I’m sure I’ll have good results in the next few days.
I keep saying, "it’s about the blood." In case you’re wondering, my next lab work is scheduled for mid-December. I’ll try not to be too preachy about it or too whiny about not knowing my blood counts until then. You’ll all be the first to know what they are.
More on my life tanning on the South Beach in a few days.
(Update…I wrote this piece on Monday, but due to my busy schedule on Monday and Tuesday, I wasn’t able to post this until Wednesday. Since writing this account, the salt effects have worn off and I’m now down an additional 2 pounds!)
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Week 2 Report: Cravings and Dilemmas
No specific topic of discussion today, but I wanted to check in briefly and let you know how things are going.
I’ll report my weight loss progress on Monday, in that I’m trying to keep it to a weekly report. However, I do weigh myself every morning and, well, I’m on a plateau it seems. Perhaps things will change by next week. I’ll let you know.
One of my weaknesses has been when I’m really hungry (skipped a snack due to work issues) and really craving some carbs. My mouth literally drools when I see a cookie or a donut. I swear I feel like I’m coming off an addiction at times.
The biggest obstacle of the week was how I handled eating out. I mentioned before that my family and I went to Red Lobster last week with great success. Well, on Tuesday, we went to Perkin’s for my wife’s birthday dinner. Not the fanciest of places to celebrate, but we knew we could get an omelet. And what a large omelet is was! Also, earlier that day, I had two salesmen take me to lunch. I was good and ordered grilled chicken breast and salad, but what a large meal it was! (No…I will not say "What a large breast it was!" That’s tacky). So for both meals, I was "good." The next day, I had gained two pounds! That’s when it hit me that I have to be aware not only of WHAT I eat…but also HOW MUCH I eat. It seems simple after I say it, but it’s not.
One thing I keep struggling with is the weigh versus blood health issue. I shouldn’t be so bummed about not losing so much weight this week, but more aware of how what I’m eating affects my blood. Still, I get discouraged at minimal weight loss. I shouldn’t, and I need to get out of that mindset, but I still do.
I also find that I’m planning for "when I get off of Phase 1." Meaning, after this weekend, I can start re-introducing some carbs in the form of fruit and whole wheat breads. But I’m also starting to think that the occasional indulgence in the name of special occasions should be acceptable. For instance, my birthday is coming up in 3 weeks. If we follow the same routine as my wife’s birthday, I’ll have no cake. But would one small piece of cake harm me? Not really. But what WOULD be harmful would be to have cake around the house for the whole week afterwards, nibbling away piece by piece every day. My logic allows just a little taste, but my resolve starts to reason that "just a little taste every day" is acceptable. It’s not. That’s where my biggest struggle will continue beyond Phase 1.
Lastly, thank you for your input on my medicine versus diet dilemma. My plan was to always continue my diet and exercise, but I wasn’t sure about taking all the meds. I decided to take the pills for now. Partly because one of the sales guys I had lunch with on Tuesday had been tackling the same issues as I for over 11 years. He mentioned the drug interaction is very rare, and as long as the doctor is watching me closely, I’d be fine. I know we’re all different with different reactions, but his experience put me at ease. He also had undergone a quadruple bypass, so his lifestyle was rudely forced upon him. I have a choice, and choose not to have a bypass. As a result, I’m taking the niacin along with the Zocor for the blood, and continuing the lifestyle changes for my overall health (and for my family). But I’m also happy to say that, after 3 doses, I have yet to have a "hot flash." Let’s hope that continues.
Have a great weekend everyone. The weather is going to be beautiful here and I figure I’ll start my walking exercise in full force on Saturday morning. I’ll whine about that next week.
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