Highlights From the Royal Wedding

I didn't set my alarm for 4AM but, when I got up at 5:30AM, I did turn on the TV to see what was happening in London.  Between hitting the Bowflex, going for a run, getting cleaned up, and starting e-mail at 7:30AM, here are my observations.  (And, yes, I did run back downstairs at 8:25AM so that I could see the appearance on the balcony.)

• All of the early discussion on TV related to Kate's dress.  Everyone wanted to know what it would look like.  By the time the car finally pulled up to Westminster Abbey, I was right there with the announcers.  But, before Kate even got out of the car, another woman appeared dressed all in white.  "Who's that?" I wondered as she walked to the car.  Whoever she was, she looked great.  Forget Kate.  I just watched this other girl as she helped Kate out of the car and adjusted the wedding gown's train.  When the camera panned away from her and back to Kate, I was not happy.  Can you blame me?

Hottest Bridesmaid Ever (US Weekly says so!)

• Harry just looks like much more fun than William.  I got a kick out of him turning around on the altar to see what was happening behind him -- that reminded me of someone I know who did the same exact thing during my wedding.
• How scary were those nuns seated next to William and Kate on the altar?  Who invited them, anyway?
• Somebody should have told William it's not cool for a man to wave like a pageant winner.  Just raise your arm and acknowledge the crowd.  Let Kate do the waving.
• Kate's parents looked alright whenever they were on camera but I'd love to know what they're really thinking about all this.

Well, that's it.  I've got to go watch Kathy Griffin's "Insightful & Hilarious Take on the Royal Wedding" to see what she thought.

Losing Patience With "The Event"

I don't watch a lot of serialized television shows.  In fact, as I think back over the past 20 years, I can only think of 7 I've stuck with from start to finish:

• "The X-Files" always kept my attention.  The mythology got awfully convoluted but I never lost faith.  I even saw both of the movies.
• "Millenium" was a great show.  It was also created by Chris Carter, of "The X-Files" fame.  I've never seen scarier stuff on regular television.  Unfortunately, it got cancelled after only 3 seasons and the central plot line was never really resolved.
• I loved "Felicity."  I know -- men in their mid-30's (that's what I was at the time) weren't the target audience but what are you gonna do?
• I never missed "24." After season 1, it was never quite as good but I had a soft spot for Jack Bauer and Chloe.
• "Prison Break" was the same way -- a great season 1 but, once they broke out of prison, the writers didn't really know what to do next.  Even so, I never missed an episode.
• I'm slowly but surely still working my way through "Lost" on DVD.  I got started on it a couple of years in and am now about half way through the final season.  I hope the payoff is worthwhile.
• And, of course, I'm hooked on "Glee." It's fun and I like that our whole family watches it together.

Each year, I read the advance billings on all the new series to see if there's something that catches my attention.  This year, I decided to give "The Event" a try.  The show seemed to have it all -- political intrigue, aliens who've been stuck here on Earth for over 60 years, young love on the run.  This has to be good, I thought.  Unfortunatey, I think I was wrong.  Here are a couple of examples from last night's show that explain just how wrong I was:

• In episode 1, the aliens use their advanced technology to thwart an assassination attempt on the President by creating a warp in the space-time continuum and diverting an airliner from Florida to Arizona in an instant.  Pretty cool, right?  Not so fast.  In last night's episode, the aliens are now trying to kill the President.  You'd think that they'd use some of that cool technology to handle this.  Nope.  Instead, they decide to switch out his Sweet N Low packet for a poison version.
• The sexy assassin (Vicki) who was trying to kill the hero (Sean) in the first few episodes is now helping him stop the alien conspiracy to take over Earth.  I don't think the writers even know why Vicki's doing this.  Last night, when Sean asked her why she was now helping him, Vicki said something like "If you have to ask, then you wouldn't understand."  News flash -- no one understands.
• The aliens' home planet is dying and they all want to come to Earth to live.  That means about 2.5 billion of us humans need to be "cleared out" to make way.  What's the best way to do that?  I've got it -- let's have the aliens find a frozen body in Siberia of some soldier who had been exposed to the Spanish flu.  Then, let's take out his lungs and use the tissue to spread the disease.  That's a great idea.  Let's get right on it.

Despite all this, I've decided to stick with the show for the rest of this season.  Now it's just fun to see what the writers come up with next.  I'm hoping that it tops the grand finale I've created.  In my version, Sue Sylvester is revealed to be the real alien commander.  Jack Bauer, Agent Scully, and Frank Black all come out of retirement to form a crack team to take her down.  They realize they can't do it alone and have to recruit T-Bag and Julie (why did she leave "Felicity" after season 1?) to help them.  But, the aliens are more powerful than anticipated.  Jack, Agent Scully, Frank, T-Bag, and Julie are sucked through a wormhole and end up on the very island from "Lost."  The way things are progressing on the show, that scenario doesn't seem too unrealistic.

Holy Week

In the Methodist religion, there's not much emphasis on Holy Week.  In fact, up until this year, I can't even remember our church having Holy Thursday and Good Friday services.  This year, however, our minister decided to change that.  To be honest, I wouldn't have gone to either one of them if it weren't for the fact that Jay's in the confirmation class and is required to go.

I'm really glad that I went.  First, it brought back a lot of memories of growing up and going to services at Our Lady of Lourdes in Elmira.  I remember Father McCabe strapping a robe around his waist and washing the feet of 12 parishioners during each Holy Thursday service.  I remember the 2PM Good Friday services and the sense of drama that they always had.  Drama and Catholicism don't usually go together as much of my recollection of growing up Catholic is how routine and orderly everything always was.  Finally, I remember going to confession on Holy Saturday.  I used to hate that, not because I had all these horrible sins that I needed to confess but because it just seemed so odd to go in that little "closet," shut the door behind you, slide open the grated window, run through your list, and then be told that they'd all go away in return for saying a couple Hail Mary's and Our Father's.  I was so happy when the Church decided to go to a service in which we were all absolved of our sins en masse.  If my memory serves me correctly, they started holding that service on the Wednesday of Holy Week.  For any of my siblings who might be reading this, that was the famous "Let us kneel - Let us stand" service that, while better than individual confession, seemed to go on forever.

Besides the memories, what I really liked about going to Holy Thursday and Good Friday services is that it reminded me of what really happens during Easter week.  As we were told during the Palm Sunday service last week, if you skip from Palm Sunday directly to Easter, you miss out on quite a bit.  That is so true.  I can't say I'd forgotten the readings about the Last Supper, the washing of the feet, Judas' betrayal, Peter's denial, the appearance before Pilate, and the crucifixion.  But, I hadn't heard them in a very long time.  It felt like I was hearing them for the first time.  There are so many emotions in those readings -- rejection, uncertainty, fear, anger, and pain.  In other words, there's a tremendous amount of humanity in the Holy Thursday and Good Friday services.  I don't remember sensing any of that before.  The 20-year break may have actually been a good thing.

Wally, Ginger, and Kim: A Love Story

There are two dogs living in our house.  When asked, I tell people that they're "our" dogs.  The reality, though, is that Wally and Ginger are Kim's dogs.  That's never more evident than when Kim's out of town.  Right now, Kim and Nick are off visiting colleges so it's just Jay and me at home for a couple days.  The dogs are miserable.

As soon as Kim takes out her suitcase, Wally and Ginger start to panic.  You can almost read their minds.  Here's what Wally's thinking: "Uh-oh.  She's packing her suitcase.  I wonder if she's going to take me with her.  I hope so.  I just love her so much.  Can't she tell?  Look at me -  I'm adorable.  How can she not take me with her?"  Then, there's Ginger: "Holy crap.  Nothing good ever comes out of this.  If she takes me with her, I have to ride in the car and that's just going to make me throw up.  I hope they don't make me go back to that horrible kennel with all those big dogs who bark 24/7 and smell bad and where there's no furniture for me to jump up on if it starts to thunder."

Kim will never truly understand what it's like for Wally and Ginger when she's not here.  Wally lays around all day making his most depressed "this time she's left me for good" face.  Everytime they hear the garage door open and I come through the door, the dogs bound to the kitchen hoping for the best.  When they see it's just me, their hearts break all over again.  They let me pet them for a bit but then they sulk away.  Whenever he's outside, Wally does his best impression of the sea captain's wife, sitting motionless on the driveway looking down the road, waiting for Kim to magically reappear on the horizon.  In fact, he's out there right now.

I guess it's good that they love Kim so much.  But, it can't be that bad to be stuck with me, can it? 

Only In America

Thursday night, Jay had a soccer game in Bowie.  It's not been a nice Spring here in Maryland with temperatures much colder than normal.  But Thursday was a beautiful day and, when we got to the park shortly before 7PM, it was still 72 degrees.  The park was hopping.  There were families on the playground, kids in the skate park, pick-up games taking place on the basketball court, lacrosse teams practicing, and a couple of soccer games in progress.

As we walked from the car to the field where Jay was going to play his game, I thought about what the park must look like.  I've read stories about people from other countries recounting what stuck out to them when they first visited America.  The one I liked best was about a new immigrant from Eastern Europe who went to a grocery store shortly after arriving in the U.S.  He was overwhelmed as he looked at aisle after aisle of fresh, prepared, and packaged foods.  His initial thought was that the grocery store was staged just to impress new arrivals like him.  He refused to buy anything and asked that his companion (who'd lived here for a while) take him to the store where "regular" people shopped.  He couldn't be convinced that this was where regular people shopped so his companion took him to a second, and then a third, grocery store.  Finally, he got it -- America truly was the land of plenty. 

As we got to Jay's field, I was thinking that the scene at the park was my slice of Americana.  And then I saw the icing on my slice of cake.  Next to Jay's field was a baseball diamond.  It was empty except for one guy on the pitching mound.  He looked to be about 30 years old.  He had on a baseball cap, an athletic brace on his right knee, and a pair of gloves like the type worn by NFL receivers.  In his right hand, he held a kickball.  You read that right -- a kickball.  As I watched, he went into a slow and deliberate pitching motion and "pitched" the kickball towards home plate.  But this wasn't a regular pitch, it was a curveball!  It broke perfectly as it rolled towards the plate.  The guy watched it with satisfaction.  Then he picked up another kickball (he'd brought several with him to the mound) and repeated the routine.  I don't know how long the guy was on the diamond before we got there but he continued his practice routine for a good 15 minutes after we arrived before packing up and heading home.

As I watched him leave, I didn't know what to think.  Should I be happy that life is so carefree in America that grown men devote their free time to practicing their kickball pitching skills?  Or should I be embarassed?  I've thought about it a lot over the past two days and I've decided I like that this guy was practicing his kickball pitching.  He was doing what he wanted to do.  Who am I to say there's something wrong with that?

Advice From Dad

I'm not the world's greatest father -- far from it, I'm sure.  I try to do my best, make mistakes, swear I'm going to learn from them, but then find myself doing the same thing over again.

A good case in point would be my habit of giving life advice to Nick.  He particularly likes to remind me of two of my attempts to teach him some lessons during our trip to London and Paris a couple years ago.  The first came on the Tube in London.  We were on the train and an American girl, probably about 20 years old, came on with a guy.  She carried on and on about how loopy she'd gotten the night before, what they should do tonight, what she should wear, who amongst their circle of friends was most annoying, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.  All of this was done in a voice loud enough for the whole car to hear.  I don't think the guy said one word.  When they finally got off the train, I turned to Nick and asked him if he'd thought about the type of girl he wanted to marry.  Before he could answer, I said "Just don't marry that girl."

Later on in the trip, we were wandering around Paris, headed to the Louvre.  I was leading the way but I wasn't sure we were headed in the right direction.  Soon enough (and without me saying anything), Kim figured that out and asked if I knew where we were going.  I said "Yes" and kept plodding along, with the whole family in tow.  Of course, I had the Paris street map in my coat pocket but I didn't want to pull it out because that would admit both defeat and the fact that we were tourists.  Finally, Kim asked again and I broke down.  I pulled out the map, handed it over to her, and she quickly got us back on track.  Trying to save my dignity, I pulled Nick aside and told him "Always walk with a purpose."  He still quotes that one to me.

Anyway, my advice to Nick invariably leads to Kim giving me one of her patented "are you crazy?" expressions before telling him to please not listen to me.  It happened again tonight.  It's prom season and Nick and his friends are starting to line up their prom dates.  Around here, you can't just go to prom with your date.  You have to have a party at someone's house with a whole huge group of people and then head off to prom.  So, you have to figure out who's hosting the party, who to invite, how many people can fit in the limo, and -- worst of all -- how to deal with the fact that you're inviting someone to the party (let's call her Janey) and Janey knows someone else you're inviting to the party who is going to prom with someone that Janey just can't stand.  It's a big production.

The problem is, the girls always want to plan the whole night.  This is a problem.  High school girls are prone to indecisiveness, petty jealousies, and frequent changes in their alignment of friends.  I know this because I had a daugher in high school once and I paid attention.  So, I decided to share this wisdom with Nick.  I told him that he should plan the party, have it at our house, and invite who he wanted to invite.  I said "Take control.  You know what you want -- do it your way."  Before he could even respond, Kim walked across the kitchen with a smile on her face, took my face in her hands, gave me a kiss, and said "You are so sweet."  What she meant was "Nick, your father is dead wrong.  He doesn't understand women and he definitely doesn't understand high school girls.  Ignore him at all costs."

So, Jay will be doing this same thing in 3 more years.  Think I can get it right by then?

God Did Not Strike Me Down

The reason I haven't posted in a while isn't that God was punishing me for posting his Tweets.  He actually contacted me (through an angel who appeared to me in a dream) to tell me that, while he didn't appreciate me impersonating him, he liked the initiative I was showing.

I haven't posted because I was in Chicago.  I had meetings out there from Tuesday through Friday and then Kim flew out to join me for the weekend.  I've been to Chicago a couple times in the past for work and it's always seemed like a neat place.  But, I've never really explored the city.  This weekend, we hung out with the other tourists on the Magnificent Mile, walked the "Gold Coast" and saw the original Playboy Mansion (which is right around the block from the Archbishop's residence), took a boat tour on the Chicago River, ate dinner at two good Italian restaurants, and had a drink on the 96th floor of the Hancock Center once the constant fog finally lifted.  All in all, it was a good time.

Now we're back.  Nothing's changed.  We still have stink bugs in the house.  The laundry bin door is still broken.  Wally still insists on climbing up on my chest and breathing his stinky breath right in my face whenever I lay down on the floor to watch TV.  The deer are still chomping my lilies.  The check to the tax man is still waiting to get sent.  It's good to be home.

Tweets From God

In case you're not following God on Twitter, here are highlights from his Twitter feed this past weekend.  You might want to start following him.

Friday - 5:00PM - "Played a great April Fool's Day joke on Benedict today.  That sucker actually thinks I'm gonna answer his prayer for world peace.  LOL."

Friday - 10:15PM - "Just saw 'Hop.'  Best thing to happen to Easter since the resurrection."

Saturday - 1:40AM - "Idammit!  Just spilled my chalice of holy wine.  Might as well go to bed."

Saturday - 11:30AM - "Gotta run.  Time to start delivering the daily bread."

Saturday - 9:30PM - "Somebody ought to kill this warlock guy."

Saturday - 11:50PM - "Am I really the only one who had Butler - UConn in the final?  What are you -- a bunch of mortals?"

Sunday - 6:00AM - "I'm tired of waking up early on Sunday just so you all can worship me."

Sunday - 7:00PM - "The Orioles are 3-0.  Who said I can't work miracles?"

Sunday - 9:30PM - "I take it back -- this warlock guy kills."

Sunday - 11:50PM - "Just finished working on next week's headlines.  Stay tuned."

Goodbye, Sandra Shaw

I have a love-hate relationship with Baltimore.  Actually, it's more a like-hate relationship.  That's been the case for the over 20 years I've lived and worked here.  The reality is that I've always liked Washington better.  It's faster-paced, prettier, and more welcoming.

One of the best distinctions I can make between Baltimore and Washington is that, when you meet someone in Washington, you're never asked where you went to high school.  In Baltimore, that happens all the time.  And, it's best to be able to answer Calvert Hall, Loyola, McDonogh, Mt. St. Joe's, or one of other local private schools.

Another thing I've noticed about Baltimore is that, for the natives, it's not so much that they're proud of what Baltimore has to offer.  Instead, they rally around their dislike of what they don't have.  For example, Baltimore's baseball fans don't unite around their love for the Orioles -- they unite around their dislike of the Yankees and Red Sox.  Baltimoreans don't really love the Inner Harbor -- they just hate the Mall in DC.

There are a couple exceptions.  Baltimore's football fans truly love the Ravens.  I think this is because all Baltimoreans are born with a chip on their shoulder.  Having their original NFL team stolen from them and then being without a team for so long just made that chip even bigger.  When they finally got the Ravens, it was love at first sight (never mind that the Ravens, themselves, were stolen from Cleveland).

The other thing Baltimoreans love is their local TV news.  Baltimore news is 85% small-town and 15% big city.  Traffic reports are provided breathlessly to an audience that, if it wants to really experience traffic, just needs to head 20 miles down I-95 South to the Washington Beltway.  TV personalities become larger-than-life and, when the Mary Beth Marsdens and Sally Thorners of the world move on, it's treated almost like the death of the Pope.

Now, Sandra Shaw is leaving.  Thursday was her last day.  Sandra was WBAL-TV's early morning meteorologist and general features reporter during the 6AM newscast.  For the past few years, Sandra's been with me each morning as I've eaten my breakfast.  I've watched her "try out" for the Ravens' cheerleading squad, take the Polar Bear plunge in the Chesapeake Bay, guest host for Kelly Ripa on the "Live with Regis and Kelly" show, dress up like a Baltimore hon' and take on countless other silly tasks.  And, you know what?  Now matter how goofy all those stories were, Sandra approached them with enthusiasm.  She was genuine.  The best thing about Sandra was that she didn't take herself too seriously.  She seemed to realize how funny it was for her to be doing dramatic "on the street" weather reports in the midst of our many 1 inch "snowstorms."

Mornings just won't be the same without Sandra.  I'm sad she's leaving.  Maybe I'm becoming a Baltimoron after all.