America Loves You -- And You Look Beautiful

It’s been a rough morning. And, no, it’s not because the pain of my bony knees rubbing against each other woke me up at 4AM. It’s because I just learned that Paula Abdul is leaving “The X Factor.”

It was one thing when there was an announcement that Steve Jones would not be back as host in Season Two. Did this really surprise anyone? Steve Jones’ most remarkable accomplishment was that his emotionless, wooden performance led to this fantastic quote from Fox Entertainment President Kevin Reilly who, when asked about Jones’ abilities, stated “I think everybody has come to see the value of Ryan Seacrest.” I think some spittle actually hit my computer screen when I tried to choke back the laughter that statement prompted.

And, were you really that surprised when you heard that Nicole Scherzinger wouldn’t be back? I’m a little disappointed since I just learned how to type Scherzinger correctly. The one good thing I can say about her is that she introduced me to finger-shield rings (that’s what I call them, anyway). I guess I’ll also miss Nicole’s insightful critiques, particularly “You are so courageous.”

So, good-bye Steve and Nicole. I won’t miss you in the least. No one will. But, Paula?

I can’t believe that Paula is being kicked to the curb. I mean, the poor woman had worked so hard on her model walk. She had absolutely perfected it. On each episode, as she walked to the judge’s table, that walk was in full view. You know, it’s the walk where you slowly and deliberately swing your leg so that it crosses directly in front of the other with each step that you take. Paula’s model walk was a thing of beauty. Where will she get to use it now? What a waste.

As a show of support for Paula, I’ll be doing her model walk all day today. I encourage you to join me.  I know I feel prettier when I do it.  Maybe you will, too.

Mike's Bistro

I'm a little out of breath because, right when I sat down to write this, "Always Be" by Jimmy Eat World came on my iPod.  I had to jump up and hop around the kitchen.  I would have kept on going for a while if the dish towel hadn't fallen off my shoulder.

Why did I have a dish towel on my shoulder?  It's because I'm on tap for dinner preparation this evening.  That's a fairly atypical happening.  But, sometimes, I just get the urge.  One of those urges came over me earlier this week when I told Kim that I'd make risotto for Sunday dinner.  That's why, at 3:30PM this afternoon, I was assembling ingredients on the kitchen counter.  What time is dinner you ask?  Oh, not until 6:30PM.

When I cook dinner, it's almost always a several hour affair, regardless of the simplicity of the recipe.  About twenty-five percent of the time, I get the meal on the table at the time I promised.  It really shouldn't be that bad.  The summer after my junior year in college, I spent evenings working as a kitchen prep cook at Slade's in Ballston, VA.  I loved that job.  I'd come in late in the afternoon and there'd be a list of what needed to be done that evening waiting for me.  There were usually two of us working together in the prep kitchen.  We'd talk about what needed to be done and divide the work up between us.  Then, off we'd go for the next 6 or 7 hours.

I developed quite a repertoire at Slade's.  I prepared crab cakes, chili, 5-gallon tubs of salad dressings, brownies, potato soup, and all sorts of sauces.  My favorite job was making freshly ground hamburger.  You started with a 20-25 pound slab of beef.  First, you sliced it lengthwise in one-inch strips.  Next, you cut the strips into thirds.  From there, you started grinding, working your way through several settings until you had ground hamburger just like you see at your local food store.  However, that wasn't the final step.  Before declaring it ready to go, we had to cook a two-ounce test burger.  To do that, you used a little contraption that looked a bit like a scale.  The scale sat at a slight angle with a trough at the bottom.  The trough ran into a little test tube.  You'd set the burger on the "scale," turn on the flame, and then set the timer.  While the burger cooked, fat dripped down into the test tube.  We had to measure exactly how much fat the test burger generated and write it down in a little log book.  I have no idea why and I never asked.

I worked at Slade's that entire summer and then for several more months when I moved back to DC after graduating.  All told, I spent 7 or 8 months there, finally "retiring" when we got the apartment in Takoma Park.  It was one thing to take the metro at 11PM from Ballston to Farragut West, wearing my cook's pants and boots, smelling like garlic and onion, wondering what the other random people on the Metro were doing at that hour.  It would have been something else altogether to keep that late-night commute up after moving to Takoma Park.

I think I actually got pretty good with my prep skills while I was at Slade's, if you don't count the time I stabbed myself in the left palm while trying to pit an avocado.  I had to take a brief break and sit down since I was light-headed from the blood loss.  I still have the scar.

But, if I was good, you'd never know it from watching me cook now.  I've read the risotto recipe three times.  I've laid out all the ingredients in order on the counter and then re-shuffled their position.  I've taken out measuring spoons, cups, a pan, a cutting board, and two knives.  Everything's sitting there waiting for me.  I've estimated my start time, questioned its accuracy, and made minor adjustments.   As of now, I'm targeting a 5:30PM start with dinner on the table at 6:30PM.  We'll see about that. 

Sound the Alarm

This is the time of year where it gets really hard to continue getting up early each weekday morning to go running.  Since early November, it's been pitch dark each morning when I head outside.  But, I still drag myself out there, wearing my reflective vest.  The vest was a gift from Kim a couple years ago.  As a side note, I take it as a positive sign that she doesn't want me to get struck and killed by a car while out for my morning run.

After 3 solid months of getting up and going outside in the pitch dark, I really look forward to Saturdays and Sundays when I can wait til the sun's risen before starting out.  Even on those weekend mornings, though, I rarely stay in bed past 6:30AM.  I'm usually awake by 5AM.  If I'm lucky, I can get myself back to sleep for a little while.  But, I don't often have much luck in that area.

This morning was going to be different.  I didn't go to bed til after 10:30PM.  Jay had friends over, Nick was out, and the movie we were watching ("Crazy, Stupid, Love") was good enough to keep me awake for a change.  So, when I climbed into bed, I told myself that I was going to stay there til 7:15AM.  That way, the sun would actually be up before I was.

So, why am I sitting here typing this at 6:30AM?  Well, a little before 6AM, I found myself lying awake in bed asking "Am I hearing something?"  I could distinctly hear a shrill beep-beep-beep-beep.  I didn't think I'd ever heard it before.  The intervals between the beeps were too short to be a smoke alarm, calling out that it's battery was dying.  It was too high-pitched to be the alarm on the refrigerator door saying "I'm not closed all the way."

As I lay there, I couldn't figure out what the noise was.  I looked at Kim.  She seemed completely undisturbed.  As the heat kicked on, the beeping noise faded.  That made me wonder if I hadn't heard it in the first place.  But, as soon as the heat went off, there it was again.

I'd had enough.  I crawled out of bed and walked into the upstairs hall.  I stood there for a couple seconds.  It seemed to me that the noise was coming from downstairs in the kitchen.  So, down the stairs I went.  No more than halfway down, I could tell that I was moving away from the noise.  So, I turned around.  I stood in the hall again and concentrated on the beeping noise.  "I've got it," I said to myself.  "It's coming from Jay's room."

Sure enough, it was Jay's alarm clock.  I'd forgotten that he was sleeping in the basement with friends and he'd forgotten to turn off his alarm.  So, there it was, flashing "5:54AM" at me as it continued to beep away.  I stared at it for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to turn it off so that the beeping would stop.  I'm proud to say that the first button I pressed made the alarm stop.

So, anyway, now it's 7:19AM.   The bad news is that I've been out of bed for well over an hour.  The good news is that it's light outside.  Off I go.

Passing the Torch

I'm not handy.  Not at all.  As evidence of my lack of general home improvement skills, I give you the shelves in Jay's room.  I've hung and re-hung them four times now and I still can't get them level.  I do have some minor accomplishments: the dining room chandelier, my basement work bench, and my pièce de résistance - the balcony railing I built in our very first house.  If you want to see that railing, I can give you driving directions.  It's worth the trip.

Not only do I have no real home improvement skills, I also am pathetically bad with household technology.  In fact, three of the five television remotes in our house don't work correctly.

So, what does all this mean?  It means I'm letting my sons down, that's what!  When they strike out on their own, they're literally going to strike out.

Last night ,I had another opportunity to pass along some manly skills from father to son.  For his birthday, Jay's friends decided that the perfect gift would be an HDMI cable to update the connection between his PS3 and the basement TV.  After all, what's the point of all that killing in Call of Duty if you can't do it in HD?  So, after eating a piece of birthday ice cream cake, Jay and I headed downstairs.

This seemed like a pretty simple job:

• Step 1 - Remove the AV cable.
• Step 2 - Connect the HDMI cable.
• Step 3 - Turn the power on.
• Step 4 - Enjoy.

Not quite.  After nearly one hour of connecting and disconnecting cables, numerous re-boots of the PS3, and several Google searches, I found myself sitting on the floor, totally defeated.  I couldn't figure the darn thing out.  Jay had hung in there patiently with me, following my instructions to plug in and unplug cords, read out loud from web sites, and silently pray.  Nothing had worked.  We gave up and headed back upstairs.

My sense of failure wasn't quite as bad as what I'd experienced during our last father-son home improvement adventure (when I managed to drill a hole in my left index finger).  But, being unable to perform such a basic household task is not fun, particularly for a father when it happens in front of your son.

When I got home from work today, Jay announced that he and his friend had figured out the connection on their own this afternoon.  It had taken another 90 minutes, but he finally got it.  He may not have inherited any technological savvy from me.  But, he figured out a way to get the job done.  I think he may have learned that from me.  That's something.

Final Thoughts

We went skiing this weekend.  Because I don't wear my ski jacket very often, I always go through the pockets to clear out whatever's left there from my last trip to the slopes.  Usually I find an old trail map, a candy wrapper or, if I'm lucky, a couple of dollars.  On Friday afternoon, I found something different.

The last time I wore my ski jacket, we weren't on a ski trip.  We were at Penn State.  It was October 29th.  There was a freak snowstorm that weekend so I brought my ski jacket to keep me warm and dry as I sat in the stands at Beaver Stadium to watch Penn State play Illinois.

The game, like the weather, was ugly.  Penn State struggled to move the ball all afternoon.  Luckily, so did Illinois.  After going scoreless for the first 53 minutes, Penn State managed to put 10 points on the board to take a 10-7 lead.  Illinois got one final chance and moved the ball down the field into field goal range.  On the last play of the game, Illinois attempted a field goal that would have sent the game to overtime.  To my great delight, the kick hit the upright and bounced back.  That was it.  The game was over.

All in all, it was a pretty uneventul game.  There were two reasons, though, why it will be remembered forever.  First, it was the 409th win of Joe Paterno's career, making him the winningest coach in major college football history.  Second, it was the last game he would ever coach.

When I reached into my pocket on Friday afternoon, I pulled out my ticket stub for that game.  I had stuffed it there after showing it at the gate.  I had no idea I'd kept it.

Joe Paterno died this morning.  I read the statement that his family released this morning and thought it was wonderful.  Sure, I only "knew" Joe Paterno from what I saw of him on TV or read about him in the papers or, more recently, on-line.  But, it still seemed like I really knew him.  I will miss him.  I'm glad I have that final ticket stub.

In case you haven't seen it, here's the statement from the Paterno family.

It is with great sadness that we announce that Joe Paterno passed away earlier today. His loss leaves a void in our lives that will never be filled.

He died as he lived. He fought hard until the end, stayed positive, thought only of others and constantly reminded everyone of how blessed his life had been. His ambitions were far reaching, but he never believed he had to leave this Happy Valley to achieve them. He was a man devoted to his family, his university, his players and his community.

He has been many things in his life – a soldier, scholar, mentor, coach, friend and father. To my mother he was and is her soul mate, and the last several weeks have shown the strength of their love. To his children and grandchildren he is a shining example of how to live a good, decent and honest life, a standard to which we aspire.

When he decided to forego a career in law and make coaching his vocation, his father Angelo had but one command: Make an impact.

As the last 61 years have shown, Joe made an incredible impact. That impact has been felt and appreciated by our family in the form of thousands of letters and well wishes along with countless acts of kindness from people whose lives he touched. It is evident also in the thousands of successful student athletes who have gone on to multiply that impact as they spread out across the country.

And so he leaves us with a peaceful mind, comforted by his “living legacy” of five kids, 17 grandchildren, and hundreds of young men whose lives he changed in more ways than can begin to be counted.

The Dayton Speedway

Growing up, there were so many little kids in our family that my mother "encouraged" me to take a nap every day til I went off to kindergarten.  Many days, I can remember lying there, wondering why she had sent me to bed in the middle of the day when I wasn't the least bit tired.  Other days, though, I can remember being lulled to sleep by the gentle hum of the vacuum cleaner as my mom went through her daily house cleaning routine.

In those days, we lived in the small town of Ontario, NY.  I have another memory of those years that's also related to falling asleep.  On summer nights, we'd play outside til dark.  Then, after coming in to have a bath, it was off to bed.  I can remember lying in bed in the dark, listening to the distant roar of the race cars at Spencer Speedway waft in through my open bedroom windows.  I don't know how far away Spencer Speedway was from our house.  It was in Williamson, the next town over, so it must have been at least a mile or two.  But, this was the country so the sound carried pretty well.

Just like the vacuum cleaner, that comforting hum of the race cars helped put me to sleep many times.  Lying there in bed, about to fall asleep, I never imagined that, one day, I'd have my own speedway.  But, I do.  My good friend Wally decided to make me one this winter.

Wally and Ginger are on an electric fence.  It rings the yard, keeping the dogs about 3 feet inside our property boundary.  This winter, Wally has decided that it's his God-given responsibility to patrol the yard.  Over and over, round and round he goes.  Instead of the calming low hum that I remember from Spencer Speedway, we get Wally's shrill, repetitive bark.  It's not nearly as peaceful as I remember from my days in Ontario.

I'm sure Wally has good intentions (protecting Kim and all that) but the only thing I see from all his activity is the dirt path that he's worn around my prized yard.  Every time I see his path, I just shake my head and mutter under my breath.  I pray that, come Spring, he'll move on to some other activity and the grass will come back.  We'll see.

Thank God for Mikipedia

So, Wikipedia is out-of-service today.  It's a form of protest against the proposed anti-piracy legislation that Congress is threatening to pass.  Good Lord.  What are all those kids who are trying to get their homework done tonight going to do?

I've got your answer.  It's Mikipedia!  Open for one day only, Mikipedia is your source for information on any topic you can imagine.  Just like Wikipedia, Mikipedia contains information posted by volunteer, self-appointed experts (or, more specifically, a single volunteer self-appointed expert).  And, just like Wikipedia, the information on Mikipedia may or may not be accurate.  Don't let that stop you from using it, though.  It certainly hasn't stopped any of you from using Wikipedia, has it?

To give you a sense for how helpful and up-to-the minute Mikipedia is, here's the entry for the most recent topic added to the site: Blue Ivy Carter.

Blue Ivy Carter, born in January 2012, is the daughter of American pop princess Beyonce Knowles and rap superstar Jay-Z.  The most beautiful baby ever born (source needed), Blue has already set records by becoming the youngest recording artist to ever appear on the Billboard charts.  As the daughter of a diva, it is reported that Blue is strictly forbidden from burping, spitting up, and pooping and that these rules apply even when Blue is under the care of a nanny (once more, source needed).  In her second week of life, Blue -- upset by her parents selecting such a silly name for her -- decided to teach them a lesson.  Little baby Blue held her breath until she literally began to turn blue.   Luckily, one of her five nannies saw what was happening.  That nanny immediately tweeted that little Blue had magical powers, just like mommy and daddy, and was actually able to turn herself the color of her name!  Unfortunately, when Blue finally stopped holding her breath, the nanny was forced to remove the first tweet and post a new one stating that the report of Blue's magical powers may have been premature (again, source needed).  Upon seeing this, Blue's aunt Solange angrily tweeted in response that the nanny had no right to question the magical powers of little Blue Ivy Carter (yep, that's right -- source needed).

Fashion Feedback

The last item of clothing I bought was a pair of sneakers from DSW.  I bought them for myself right before Christmas.  I had two requirements.  First, they had to be Asics.  Second, they had to cost between $75 - $90.  Pretty simple.  I was in and out of the store in less than 5 minutes.

About one week after I bought them, I got up to go running.  It was a Saturday morning about 7:15AM.  I walked downstairs and was standing in the kitchen, putting on my sweats, hat, and gloves before heading outside.  Just before I went out, Kim came downstairs with the dogs.  When Kim first wakes up in the morning, she's much like anyone else.  In other words, it takes a few minutes for her to really wake up.  She doesn't usually say much, yawns a couple times,  and works at getting the cobwebs out of her head.  That morning was a bit different.  She walked into the kitchen, took one look at my new sneakers, and burst out laughing.  Here's why:

OK.  They're black.  And they have bright red shoelaces.  But, they're functional.  What else matters?

Anyway, I share this with you as evidence of my qualifications to provide my feedback on last night's Golden Globes fashions.  Here are the highlights. 

• The "Oh My God -- Is That A Human?" Award - Tilda Swinton, in the night's biggest upset.  Nicole Kidman had won this award 8 years in a row before.  Poor Nicole.

• The "Watch Out Nicole and Tilda, I'm Catching Up to You" Award - Julianne Moore.

• The "Most Frightening Trend" Award - Bright red lipstick.  Now, we know that bright red can work (see my sneakers, above).  But, that might be the only thing on which it works.  Angelina Jolie was one of the biggest offenders.

• The "Look, Normal-Looking People Are Also Invited to the Party" Award - Tina Fey.

• The "Are Extremely Thin Arms Still In?" Award - Angelina Jolie.

• The "Can You Believe I'm Here?" Award and the "Who's George Clooney's Date This Year?" Awards - Stacy Keibler.  Lucky girl.

• The "What the Hell Happened?" Award - Charlize Theron.  Sorry, Charlize.

• The "OK, She Actually Looks Good" Award - Rachel Berry.  I mean, Lea Michelle.

My Least Favorite Person in the World

There are many reasons why I love my wife.  The newest one is that she just made the following statement, completely unprompted by me.  Here's what she said: "I don't get why people say he's so good looking.  I think he's kind of strange looking."  Who was she talking about?  Tom Brady, of course.

I'm tired of Tom Brady.  I'm tired of his New England Patriots.  I'm tired of his hoodie-wearing, grumpy coach.  I'm tired of him throwing touchdown passes to that bumphead tight-end of his.  I'm tired of seeing his scowl on the sidelines.  I'm tired of hearing about how he was only a 6th-round draft pick.  I'm tired of being reminded that he went to Michigan.  I'm just plain tired.  

Tom, if you're reading this, I ask you to remember "The Lion King."  Remember what good old Scar said to Simba after the stampede that killed Mufasa?  I think he said "Run away.  Never return."  Good advice.  Please follow it.

New Music for Old People

I had lunch today with a friend from work who's about my age.  He knows that I listen to a wide variety of music.  With that in mind, he told me that he'd grown tired of all the music in his collection.  He wanted to know if I could recommend anything from the last 20 years that he may have missed while he was busy listening over and over to The Who, Yes, Led Zeppelin, and Dire Straits (he's my age but he clearly had an older brother).  He also said that he liked albums.  He didn't want to simply download a couple of singles off of iTunes.

That got me thinking about my own music purchasing habits of the last twenty years.  I'm also a big fan of the album.  I think that artists place songs in a certain order for a reason.  It's true that I've bought my fair share of singles since iTunes came around.  But, I still prefer to purchase an entire album and listen to it from start to finish.  When I'm using my iPod with headphones, I rarely use the shuffle feature.  And, I've created only a couple of playlists in my time.

I've been thinking about my friend's question all day.  I'd like to try and help him out.  So, here's the top 10 list I'm going to give him.  Perhaps you should pick one out and give it a try.

• The Strokes - "Is This It?"  Nearly perfect.  Of everything I've bought in the last 20 years, this is the one I want to play the loudest.  Every time I listen to it, I'm reminded of a late night years ago, following a dinner meeting in Annapolis.  I got in the car, turned on the stereo (I was still relying on CD's at the time), popped this in, turned it way up, started driving, and -- 10 minutes later -- realized I had no idea where I was.  Normally, that would quicken my heart rate.  Not this time.  My heart rate was already elevated as I sang along to song 4 ("Barely Legal"), pounding on the steering wheel.
• The Connells - "Still Life."  I really could put every Connells album on this list.  I've never understood how they didn't become incredibly big.  "Gonna Take a Lie," all on it's own, should have done it for them.  Unfortunately, the band's Wikipedia entry says they're "... mostly dormant." 
• Matthew Sweet - "Girlfriend."  This one is actually 21 years old now.  But, it holds up very well.  I used to listen to it over and over back in the mid-'90's while working late, finishing up on work I'd carried home with me from Foster Higgins in boxes on the Metro.  "Evangeline," "I Wanted to Tell You," and "Nothing Lasts" got me through quite a few proposal reviews.
• Muse - "The Resistance."  Nick and I share two common loves -- Penn State football and Muse.  I hate the Baltimore Arena.  It's dirty.  It smells.  It reminds me of the circus and the Baltimore Blast.  But, it also reminds me of a great night seeing Muse there with Nick right after this album came out -- screaming along til we were hoarse, bouncing til we were covered in sweat.  Thanks, Nick.
• Wilco - "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot."  The first song on the album, "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart" has lyrics that still confuse me.  The first line is "I am an American aquarium drinker / I assassin down the avenue." I'm sorry -- I'm just not smart enough to figure out what that means.  But, it sucks me in each time.  Who cares about the lyrics anyway?
• Pete Yorn - "Music for the Morning After."  Yes, Pete Yorn is dreamy.  Yes, he was dating Winona Ryder when this one came out.  Yes, he secretly wished he was Jim Morrison.  But, don't hold any of that against him.  This album has everything.  Slow songs.  Fast songs.  Sensitive lyrics (everything in "Lose You").  Silly lyrics ("Kiss / They were the ones / They dressed / Like something so special").  Slow builds.  I really should listen to this one more often.
• Arcade Fire - "The Suburbs."  At first, I wasn't a big fan.  I thought that "Funeral" and "Neon Bible" were both better records.  After a half-dozen listens, though, I realized I was wrong.  "Funeral" had better singles ("Wake Up" has the best sing-along wailing chorus ever recorded) but "The Suburbs" works better from start to finish.  That's what an album should do.
• Hot Hot Heat - "Make Up the Breakdown."  Silly fun from start to finish.  That works every time for me.
• Green Day - "American Idiot."  Catchy.  Fun.  Loud.  Mildly profane.  Yes, it's an obvious choice.  But, sometimes you just have to join the masses. 
• The Killers - "Hot Fuss."  The '80's were great.  What's that?  You don't believe me?  Then listen to this album.  OK, it's from 2004.  But, it sounds just like the '80's. 

The Power of the Written Word

Somebody read my last blog post attentively.  I just finished a nice dinner featuring tuna noodle casserole.  It was Mom Bucci's famous recipe.  Lucky me.  Lots of leftovers, too.

I wonder what I should ask for next time.

Meals on Wheels

Some readers of this blog have told me that it reveals quite a bit about me. One of the things I’ve heard is that it shows how much I like to eat.

Yes, I like to eat. When you look at me, I realize that can be hard to believe. In fact, when I look at myself in photos, I often see a haggard-looking face, pants that are cinched at the waist, and (when my shirt’s off) protruding collar bones. I chalk all that up to my obsessiveness about exercise and my high metabolism.

Anyway, traveling for work so much is really cutting into my need to eat good food. This week’s been particularly bad. Here’s what I had for dinner the last three nights:

• Monday. For just the second time in my life, I packed both lunch and dinner before leaving for work. That’s why, at 6PM you would have found me standing at the microwave in the office kitchen, heating up my leftover meatloaf and green beans. I trudged back to my desk and plowed through a few more e-mails during dinner. Sad, I know. The meatloaf was actually quite good, though.
• Tuesday. I didn’t want to get room service or eat by myself at the hotel bar. So, I headed over to Whole Foods which was conveniently located just across from my luxurious room at the Doubletree Suites. The prepared foods section at Whole Foods was awesome. I was overwhelmed with choices. “Hmmm,” I wondered. What should I get? The decision became easy. I needed a dinner that I could eat with my hands. Why? I didn’t want to “splurge” on plastic ware. So, I settled for chicken wings for dinner and a bag of chips for dessert. The wings were great – I sampled 3 different types. The chips were also quite good. I should have stopped halfway through the bag but, alone in my hotel room, watching “Property Virgins” on HGTV, I managed to finish the whole bag. Before I went to bed, I made a mental note to buy a box of plastic ware to throw in my car as I think this eating in hotels things is going to become much more frequent.
• Wednesday. I didn’t want to eat on the road so I waited til I got home. When I walked in the door at 9:10PM, Kim had left me a plate to warm up for dinner.  On it, I found chicken, ravioli, and broccoli.  Perfect.  Plus, I got to eat it sitting in my own kitchen while eating them.

I can’t wait to be home for dinner on time tomorrow night. Maybe we’ll get lucky and have my favorite – tuna noodle casserole. Seriously.

True Confessions

I was never a fan of Tim Tebow when he was playing college football at Florida.  He just had too much success:

• A national championship his freshman year
• Winner of the Heisman Trophy his sophomore year
• A second national championship in his junior year
• Constant adulation from the national media.

Something finally went wrong in his senior year, when Florida lost in the SEC Championship game and failed to make it to a third national title game.  Thank goodness, I thought.  I'd had enough.

I kind of forgot about Tebow last year, when he struggled during his NFL rookie season.  This year, though, the mania started again when Tebow came off the bench early in the season and led the Broncos to victories in 7 of the first 8 games he started.

I asked myself, "Do we have to go through this hero worship again?"  But, things started to change when we happened to catch the end of the Broncos - Bears game while out for dinner at a local restaurant.  The restaurant was about one-third full.  As that game came to the end of regulation, with the Broncos desperately trying to tie up the score, I noticed that everyone in the restaurant -- diners and wait staff -- had stopped what they were doing to watch Tebow lead the Broncos down the field.  When the Broncos tied it on a last-second kick, everyone cheered.  When they kicked a game-winner in overtime, everyone cheered again.

Later that night, I thought about that game.  We're in the heart of Ravens country.  Nobody cares about the Broncos.  But, that night, everyone watching wanted Tim Tebow and the Broncos to win.  And, it wasn't a "it would be nice if they win" feeling that I got from the crowd.  It was a "I really, really want these guys to win" feeling.

It didn't take me long to figure out why everyone felt that way.  While Tebow was having all that success at Florida, the criticism of him was that he wasn't a "typical" quarterback.  He liked to run.  He didn't have a natural throwing motion.  He only won because of the system in which he played.  When he got to the pros, the experts said he'd never have success.  The criticisms were the same.  But, Tebow didn't seem the least bit fazed by the critics.  That's why people like him.  Despite being told he can't succeed, he's never stopped doing what he does best.  He works hard, has a positive attitude, and focuses on making those around him better.  He lets his results speak for themselves.

Sitting here right now, the Broncos are up on the Steelers by 7 with 8 minutes to go in the 4th quarter.  I don't know if they'll hold on to win (Willis McGahee's fumble certainly doesn't help the cause).  But, I certainly hope they do.  You know why?  Because I like Tim Tebow.  I admit it.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that I really don't like Ben Roethlisberger.

Proof That God Loves Me

One of my least favorite things to do is to take down all the Christmas decorations.  Actually, I should say I don't like to help taking down the Christmas decorations.  Kim takes the lead on breaking things down and packing up the boxes.  I'm responsible for taking the lights off the tree, getting the tree outside, putting all the boxes of assorted decorations back into basement storage, and taking down the outside lights.

Getting rid of the outside lights is the worst.  I put the lights up pretty early, picking any November weekend when it's still warm.  Heaven forbid it be less than 40 degrees when I'm putting up the outside lights.  This year, I had the lights up the weekend before Thanksgiving.  A bit soon, perhaps, but it was above 45 degrees so I took advantage of it.

Taking the lights down is another story.  Even if we're not turning the lights on at night anymore, I refuse to leave the lights outside on the bushes past the weekend after New Year's.  Don't ask why.  I don't have a good reason.  It's just an unwritten rule -- leaving your lights up beyond the weekend after New Year's is just like having pumpkins on your stoop after Thanksgiving.  Trust me, it's not a good thing.

So, here we are on January 7th.  Since we were out of town last weekend, this was my last chance to live up to my own demanding standard.  And, what do you know?  God must truly love me.  It's 60 degrees and sunny.  I didn't need a hat.  I didn't need gloves.  I barely even needed a jacket.  Thank you, God.

Occupy Los Angeles - Part Three

For his senior year trip, Nick wanted to go to the Rose Bowl.  The dream would have been to have seen Penn State play.  Unfortunately, things didn’t work out the way we would have liked.  That’s how we found ourselves as Badger fans for a day.

We bought our tickets on Stub Hub.  From the stadium layout, I was pretty certain we’d find ourselves on the Wisconsin side.  That was fine since I planned to root for a Big Ten victory.  Nick, however, said he was going to cheer for Oregon.  Sure enough, when we found our seats (Section 13, Row 53, Seats 109 and 110), we had fancy white “On Wisconsin” souvenir towels waiting for us.  Soon, it became apparent that our seats were smack dab in the middle of the Wisconsin student section.  “This ought to be fun,” I said to myself.

The section quickly filled up with thousands of kids who had been spending the last few days enjoying a break from their Wisconsin winter.  And, they’d spent the last several hours tailgating in advance of the game.  The Rose Bowl is an awesome place to tailgate.  You park on a golf course and spread your stuff out in the midst of sycamores, cedars, ponds, and sand traps.  On a day like yesterday (80 degrees and perfectly clear skies), it doesn’t get much better.  But, let’s get back to the student section.

Nick is a very smart boy.  He very quickly took one look around, assessed the situation, and concluded he was going to join me in rooting for Wisconsin.  Good choice, I thought.

As the game began, we quickly started to learn all the Wisconsin cheers.  Some of them were amusing.  My personal favorite was the one that followed each Wisconsin score.  First, Bucky Badger would do one push-up for each point on the scoreboard.  Then, the cheerleaders would start a chant of “We Want More,” holding up a sign for each word to get the crowd going.  The faithful Wisconsin alumni would yell out each word when prompted – “We!” “Want!” “More!” At which time the students would yell out “Beer!”

About the beginning of the second quarter, a random drunk Wisconsin student found his way to the spot two people over from Nick.  He kept grabbing the other students around him (none of whom he seemed to know), trying to get them to join in some nonsensical cheer that he had just made up on his own.  As they ignored him, he grew more and more frustrated.  Suddenly, he yelled out “I need a Kappa Sig!” Taking the bait, I leaned over and said “Hey, I’m a Kappa Sig.”  He pushed his way over to me, invited me back to the house (I think he forgot that we were in Los Angeles, not Madison) and said “We’re going to break stuff tonight.”  Somewhat tempted, I told him I’d give that some thought.  Soon, he’d disappeared.  Oh, well.  I wonder what I missed.

As the game wore on, I decided that Wisconsin fans were like a classier Maryland fan.  Over one-half of their chants are profane.  While I’m not a prude, I’m just not a fan of profane cheers.  They don’t seem to take that much thought.

The highlight and lowlight of the game happened at exactly the same time.  At every home game, when the 3^rd quarter ends, Camp Randall Stadium shakes as all the Wisconsin faithful sing and jump along to House of Pain’s “Jump Around.”  The Rose Bowl was kind enough to give us the same experience.  As Nick and I joined in, we had huge smiles on our face.  It was pretty neat to look around and see everyone in red (students and alumni), bouncing up and down.

It was just then that the poor guy two rows behind us threw up.  I guess it was too much jumping around for him.  Both Nick and I got splattered a little but, hey, it wasn’t all bad.  Luckily, we had our “On Wisconsin” towels to use for just such an emergency clean-up.

Occupy Los Angeles - Part Two

The strongest memory I’ll take away with me from this trip to Los Angeles is just how many strange people we’ve seen.

Today, we headed out to Santa Monica Pier.  While there, we rented bikes and rode a few miles south.  We got to Santa Monica kind of early so the ride out was pretty uneventful.  In fact, it was pretty relaxing.  I spent most of the ride just looking out at the ocean or checking out the homes that look out over the water.  I hardly noticed any of the other people who were out enjoying the beautiful day.

After a relaxing lunch in Marina del Rey, the fun started.  By this time, the beach and bike bath were super-crowded.  In this crowd were all kinds of people.  But, it was the kooks who stood out to me.  Here are my top three:

• The naked guy.  If I were naked on the beach, I’d probably be trying to keep a low profile.  Not this guy.  As he slipped out his wet suit and shook himself off next to his car, he had his car stereo pumping, blasting some Foster the People for all to hear.  Maybe that’s the trick to being comfortable when you’re naked in public.
• The super-relaxed woman.  There she was, lying on a massage table.  That’s not too unusual, right?  Have I mentioned the two giant gongs on either side of her?  Or, the fact that, as she lay there, face down, the guy standing at the head of the table kept up a steady beat on the gongs?  I have no idea what aura he was trying to create for her but they just looked ridiculous.
• The guy wearing the Speedo.  This wasn’t just any old Speedo.  It was the smallest, clingiest Speedo known to man.  This guy drew smirks from everyone who saw him.  I managed to see this guy twice – once from the front and once from behind.  I can’t get either image out of my head.  The naked guy was less disturbing.

Here are a couple people who didn’t make the top three:

• The guy who had shaved his head so that his remaining hair spelled out “Happy New Year.”
• The super-fast jogger who kept pace with us for over a mile – while wearing jeans.
• The girl with the “I Love Shoes, Booze, and Guys with Tattoos” t-shirt.
• The entire contingent of street people who have taken over the boardwalk at Venice Beach.
• The guy who was sunning his 3-foot long iguana.
• The fine-looking gentleman who was riding an oversized tricycle with a live parrot on each of his shoulders and two on his bike's handlebars.

I love LA.

Occupy Los Angeles - Part One

We’re 36 hours into our trip to Los Angeles.  Here are the highlights and lowlights so far.

·       Our plane arrived on time and we were in our rental car at 2:34 PST.  According to Mapquest, it’s 13.57 miles from LAX to the house we’re renting in Hollywood.  Mapquest estimated travel time of 33 minutes.  Sure enough, a full 1 hour and 14 minutes later, we arrived at our destination.  Welcome to Los Angeles, where it’s pretty darn important that you like the inside of your car.

·       We’ve had some interesting final approaches to homes we’ve rented.   This one was no different.

o   In Akumal, we had to cross several speed bumps in the final mile.  Those speed bumps were more like boulders.  Each time we crossed one, I waited for the rental car’s undercarriage to meet its demise.

o   In Santa Maria del Castellabate, the last half-mile was on a one-lane road that went seemingly straight uphill, with a series of blind 180-degree turns.  Every time you approached one of those turns, you said a quick “Hail Mary” in hopes that no one was coming in the other direction.

o   The approach to our house on Glencoe Way here in LA was another doozy.  It seemed designed to stress you out.  Parked cars lined the right side all the way up the hill.  That left room for one car to make its way up or down the street.  Luckily (I thought), we had a designated parking spot in the garage at our rental house.  It turns out that the garage really was no bigger than my shed back in Dayton.  There were 2 inches of clearance on either side of the car.  Even after pulling in as far as I could, the full car didn’t fit.  And, there was absolutely no way that I could pull in or back out in one fell swoop.  Each time I needed to do that, I had to position my co-pilots at strategic locations outside the car to help guide me.  Nick got the short straw.  He was responsible for being the “cushion” between my right front bumper and the right front entrance to the garage.  So far, he doesn’t have a scratch on him.  Wish him luck the rest of the trip.

·       News flash – some pretty weird people live in Los Angeles.  So far, the guy in first place is the hiker we saw at the trails off of Mulholland Drive.  Between his stretching routine (trust me, men shouldn’t be that flexible), his shaved legs, his painted nails, and his dancing (really, he was dancing while hiking), he’s actually pretty far ahead.  Next time you see me, ask me to give you an imitation.  I’ll do my best.

·       What’s up with the people who let their dogs run loose on hiking trails out here and don’t make any attempt to pick up their dog’s poop?  I thought we’d left the dog poop problem behind when we left Wally in Dayton.  Nope.  The entire hike, you had to have one eye on the trail to make certain you didn’t step in the dozens of piles of poop that littered the trail.  Miraculously, we all made it through unscathed.

·       One thing California does right is sell alcohol in its food stores.  Maryland, pay attention.

·       For all you occupiers, I think I found quite a few of the 1%.  They seem to live in a place called Beverly Hills.  There’s even a park in the center of town (right across from the Beverly Hills Hotel) just waiting to be occupied.  Have at it.