Last night, I waited patiently for NBC to get around to showing the Michael Phelps - Ryan Lochte showdown in the 400 IM. I wanted to watch the race without knowing the outcome. That meant I had to avoid the internet all afternoon.
Staying offline for 5 straight hours took quite a lot out of me. However, it was nothing compared to the sacrifice of Louis Smith, a member of the men's gymnastics team from Great Britain. You see, while I was waiting for NBC to show the 400 IM, I had to sit through women's beach volleyball and a rotation of the opening night of men's gymnastics. That's how I got to meet Louis Smith.
As Mr. Smith approached one of the evening's apparatus, NBC's excitable gymnastics analyst Elfi Schlegel breathlessly talked about the extreme level of preparation that Louis Smith put himself through as he readied himself for last night's competition. According to Elfi, Louis had made the ultimate sacrifice. But, what was it?
Had he worked three jobs for the past four years to pay for his training? No. Had he left home at the age of 6 to attend a gymnastics academy? No. Had he broken off a long-term engagement so that he could devote his full attention to competing? No, again.
OK, if he hadn't done any of these things, what had Louis Smith done? Well, according to Elfi, he had given up both Twitter and Facebook for 4 whole days leading up to last night!
Just thinking about this sacrifice, tears came to my eyes. What a commitment poor Louis had made. And, not just Louis, but his Twitter followers and Facebook friends, too.
Thank you, Louis, for reminding me what the Olympics are all about.
This is where the magic happens.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Top 10 Reasons Why Corolla Light Soundside Smells
Something smells here soundside at Corolla Light. To be honest, it smells like sewage. That's kind of a drag when you've got all these decks just clamoring for us to sit on them.
This morning, I decided to try and find out what it is. My first guess was that it was just stagnant water on Currituck Sound. But, with all the wind, I didn't think that was it. My internet research seemed to confirm that it wasn't something on (or in) the Sound.
After spending 30 minutes doing some quick digging, here are the top 10 reasons I've come up with for why Corolla Light Soundside smells so bad.
# 10. Some of the people here on vacation apparently shower without using soap.
# 9. The body odor from all these runners and bikers is permeating the atmosphere.
# 8. Body wash doesn't really work.
# 7. The development needed something to cover up the fumes from the propane leak.
# 6. The foul odor is pumped in by the natives in a last gap effort to drive us tourists away for good.
# 5. It's the combination of sunscreen, sand, sweat, ice cream, and chlorine that coats the skin of every child here under age 7.
# 4. It's day five and I'm still on t-shirt #3. If everyone else is like me, that can't be good.
# 3. Everyone else forgot their mouthwash.
# 2. Old people smell. And, there are quite a few old people here.
# 1. We really are smelling sewage. Seriously.
This morning, I decided to try and find out what it is. My first guess was that it was just stagnant water on Currituck Sound. But, with all the wind, I didn't think that was it. My internet research seemed to confirm that it wasn't something on (or in) the Sound.
After spending 30 minutes doing some quick digging, here are the top 10 reasons I've come up with for why Corolla Light Soundside smells so bad.
# 10. Some of the people here on vacation apparently shower without using soap.
# 9. The body odor from all these runners and bikers is permeating the atmosphere.
# 8. Body wash doesn't really work.
# 7. The development needed something to cover up the fumes from the propane leak.
# 6. The foul odor is pumped in by the natives in a last gap effort to drive us tourists away for good.
# 5. It's the combination of sunscreen, sand, sweat, ice cream, and chlorine that coats the skin of every child here under age 7.
# 4. It's day five and I'm still on t-shirt #3. If everyone else is like me, that can't be good.
# 3. Everyone else forgot their mouthwash.
# 2. Old people smell. And, there are quite a few old people here.
# 1. We really are smelling sewage. Seriously.
Monday, July 23, 2012
More of the Same
Today's Penn State news is clearly my payback for all the times I've taken pleasure in the pain and suffering of the Tom Cruise's and Tom Brady's of the world. Perhaps I deserve it. But, that doesn't make it any easier. I must say I'm proud of how well Nick is taking things. He's a better man than I am, I guess.
I admit that I'm following all this a bit too closely for a 45-year old man, particularly one who didn't even go to Penn State. But, I'm a Penn State football fan and always have been. Thanks, Dad. Making matters even more complicated, now Hannah and Nick have joined me in drinking the lemonade.
Hannah and Nick's experience with Penn State all started with football. Yes, football. That's why each of them made their first trip to State College. It was football that got them to start falling in love with the place. How could they not fall in love? Good vibes were all around them -- the collective positive energy of the crowd, the happiness that was so in abundance, the sense of togetherness that they saw everywhere. My kids took it all in and wanted to be part of it. I ask you, what's wrong with that? They wanted to be part of the community that they saw around them.
So, when I hear now that these penalties will "correct" Penn State's culture, I ask myself what that means. Penn State football wasn't a win at all costs culture. Good Lord, if it was, Joe Paterno would have been fired back in 2004 after having his fourth losing season in the past five years. The administration would have brought in a hired gun and paid him $4m - $5m per year, like so many other universities have done. The football program would have lowered its academic standards in an attempt to improve recruiting. But, Penn State didn't do any of that. Why not, you ask? Because its culture, the very same culture that the NCAA says now needs to change, wouldn't allow it.
If you want to understand what Penn State's culture really is, please read this statement, issued today, from the Penn State Football Letterman's Club. And, pay particular attention to paragraph three. It's a wonderful response to the self-righteous blathering we had to hear from the NCAA and Mark Emmert this morning.
On behalf of the Penn State Football Letterman’s Club, our thoughts and prayers continue for the victims and their families in the heinous criminal acts of Jerry Sandusky. Their lives have been negatively impacted forever and it is important that their stories are not overshadowed by those continuing to define and sensationalize their narrative.
The penalties and bans imposed on the Penn State Football program by the N.C.A.A. are severely damaging well beyond the stated time frame. Our Club endeavors to stand with all Penn Staters in supporting the current members of the State Football team under the leadership and direction of Coach Bill O’Brien and his staff. Bill is committed to carrying on the successful development of student-athletes that has been a model for the past several decades. There is not a better individual to lead us through these difficult times than Bill and we are fortunate to have him directing the future of Penn State Football.
After listening to Dr. Mark Emmert’s press conference this morning, his assertion that a balance between academics and athletics (specifically Penn State Football) did not exist previously is baseless and intellectually dishonest. It is with great pride that the members of our Club know that we have done it the "right way" for several decades and we will not allow Dr. Emmert’s careless remarks to tarnish the legacy of Penn State Football. The academic standards and the well-documented historic graduation rates at Penn State far exceed the standards set forth by his organization. This is simply one illustration of many over the past several months where the facts do not supersede those with an agenda.
The Penn State Football Letterman’s Club stands united with all current Penn State students, Penn State Alumni, and Penn State fans throughout the world as we remain proud of our University, our reputation, and our traditions. We will defend her honor and the institutions within that have made Penn State a world-class University. The world is soon to learn the true meaning and depth of the credo that defines us…. WE ARE….. PENN STATE!!!!!
Tim Sweeney, President
Justin Kurpeikis, Vice President
Penn State Football Letterman’s Club
I admit that I'm following all this a bit too closely for a 45-year old man, particularly one who didn't even go to Penn State. But, I'm a Penn State football fan and always have been. Thanks, Dad. Making matters even more complicated, now Hannah and Nick have joined me in drinking the lemonade.
Hannah and Nick's experience with Penn State all started with football. Yes, football. That's why each of them made their first trip to State College. It was football that got them to start falling in love with the place. How could they not fall in love? Good vibes were all around them -- the collective positive energy of the crowd, the happiness that was so in abundance, the sense of togetherness that they saw everywhere. My kids took it all in and wanted to be part of it. I ask you, what's wrong with that? They wanted to be part of the community that they saw around them.
So, when I hear now that these penalties will "correct" Penn State's culture, I ask myself what that means. Penn State football wasn't a win at all costs culture. Good Lord, if it was, Joe Paterno would have been fired back in 2004 after having his fourth losing season in the past five years. The administration would have brought in a hired gun and paid him $4m - $5m per year, like so many other universities have done. The football program would have lowered its academic standards in an attempt to improve recruiting. But, Penn State didn't do any of that. Why not, you ask? Because its culture, the very same culture that the NCAA says now needs to change, wouldn't allow it.
If you want to understand what Penn State's culture really is, please read this statement, issued today, from the Penn State Football Letterman's Club. And, pay particular attention to paragraph three. It's a wonderful response to the self-righteous blathering we had to hear from the NCAA and Mark Emmert this morning.
On behalf of the Penn State Football Letterman’s Club, our thoughts and prayers continue for the victims and their families in the heinous criminal acts of Jerry Sandusky. Their lives have been negatively impacted forever and it is important that their stories are not overshadowed by those continuing to define and sensationalize their narrative.
The penalties and bans imposed on the Penn State Football program by the N.C.A.A. are severely damaging well beyond the stated time frame. Our Club endeavors to stand with all Penn Staters in supporting the current members of the State Football team under the leadership and direction of Coach Bill O’Brien and his staff. Bill is committed to carrying on the successful development of student-athletes that has been a model for the past several decades. There is not a better individual to lead us through these difficult times than Bill and we are fortunate to have him directing the future of Penn State Football.
After listening to Dr. Mark Emmert’s press conference this morning, his assertion that a balance between academics and athletics (specifically Penn State Football) did not exist previously is baseless and intellectually dishonest. It is with great pride that the members of our Club know that we have done it the "right way" for several decades and we will not allow Dr. Emmert’s careless remarks to tarnish the legacy of Penn State Football. The academic standards and the well-documented historic graduation rates at Penn State far exceed the standards set forth by his organization. This is simply one illustration of many over the past several months where the facts do not supersede those with an agenda.
The Penn State Football Letterman’s Club stands united with all current Penn State students, Penn State Alumni, and Penn State fans throughout the world as we remain proud of our University, our reputation, and our traditions. We will defend her honor and the institutions within that have made Penn State a world-class University. The world is soon to learn the true meaning and depth of the credo that defines us…. WE ARE….. PENN STATE!!!!!
Tim Sweeney, President
Justin Kurpeikis, Vice President
Penn State Football Letterman’s Club
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Anger, Disappointment, and (Some) Understanding -- In Other Words, "Good Morning"
Yesterday, on our drive down to the Outer Banks, we got stuck in a good deal of traffic. At one point, I had a car crawling past me on my left. I noticed the woman in the passenger seat give me a thumbs up as they crawled past us. I thought that was a little odd. As her car moved in front of ours, I realized why she'd done it. Her car had a Penn State Alumni Association license plate and a Happy Valley logo magnet. She was giving us the thumbs up in recognition of the two Penn State bumper stickers that adorn the back of our car, one for Hannah and one for Nick. That gesture made me realize what I've always felt is so special about Penn State -- the community that everyone associated with Penn State has created.
Right now, that community is divided. It's much like situations that occur in many other families -- an issue arises, two points of view are formed, with each strongly held. Debate ensues and there's a sense that common ground will never be found.
As I type this at 8AM on Sunday morning, Penn State is removing the Joe Paterno statue at Beaver Stadium. I understand why President Erickson wants to remove it. I can't argue with his belief that it could be viewed by some as a reminder of Jerry Sandusky's conduct, which continued for many years. But, you know what really annoys me about this? It's the way it's being done. Why a 7AM press release? Why Sunday? Why a fence to try and cover up their actions? Why not a live statement and an offer to field questions from reporters? Like releasing the 267-page Freeh report and having a press conference just one hour later, preventing anyone from actually having the time to read and comprehend it, this just rubs me the wrong way. As Nick just said, "That's lame." Perhaps Penn State was advised on how to go about this by the Irsay family.
The worst part of all this, to me, is President Erickson's attempt to explain why he's leaving the Paterno name on the campus library. As King Solomon taught us in Biblical times, you can't "split the baby." I don't understand how you can say that Joe Paterno is a symbol of all that's wrong with the world, a painful reminder of child abuse, and a representative of an attempt to "cover up" Jerry Sandusky's action and, at the same time, decide that it's OK to leave his name on the library because of all the great things he represents. It's got to be one or the other, President Erickson. Make the hard decision and tell us what you really believe.
Right now, that community is divided. It's much like situations that occur in many other families -- an issue arises, two points of view are formed, with each strongly held. Debate ensues and there's a sense that common ground will never be found.
As I type this at 8AM on Sunday morning, Penn State is removing the Joe Paterno statue at Beaver Stadium. I understand why President Erickson wants to remove it. I can't argue with his belief that it could be viewed by some as a reminder of Jerry Sandusky's conduct, which continued for many years. But, you know what really annoys me about this? It's the way it's being done. Why a 7AM press release? Why Sunday? Why a fence to try and cover up their actions? Why not a live statement and an offer to field questions from reporters? Like releasing the 267-page Freeh report and having a press conference just one hour later, preventing anyone from actually having the time to read and comprehend it, this just rubs me the wrong way. As Nick just said, "That's lame." Perhaps Penn State was advised on how to go about this by the Irsay family.
The worst part of all this, to me, is President Erickson's attempt to explain why he's leaving the Paterno name on the campus library. As King Solomon taught us in Biblical times, you can't "split the baby." I don't understand how you can say that Joe Paterno is a symbol of all that's wrong with the world, a painful reminder of child abuse, and a representative of an attempt to "cover up" Jerry Sandusky's action and, at the same time, decide that it's OK to leave his name on the library because of all the great things he represents. It's got to be one or the other, President Erickson. Make the hard decision and tell us what you really believe.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Happiness Is ...
As I drove home today, I was in a good mood. I think it was because my meeting in DC got cancelled tomorrow. So, after Tuesday in Hartford, Wednesday in Richmond, and Thursday in Philadelphia, I get to work in shorts and a t-shirt in my basement tomorrow. Lucky me.
In any event, while I was in the car, I started a list of what makes me happy. Here are ten things that made my list today.
In any event, while I was in the car, I started a list of what makes me happy. Here are ten things that made my list today.
- Walking in the door after missing dinner and finding a full plate sitting right there waiting for me on the kitchen island. Wouldn't you know I found that again tonight?
- The all-too-short "offseason" for soccer managers.
- The gladiolas that are thriving, at last, in our garden.
- Finally getting to ride shotgun all the way to Richmond and back instead of playing chauffeur for my co-workers.
- Being home alone -- with the dogs.
- Watching the talkative young lady -- who had spent the entire train ride from Philadelphia standing up, facing backwards, and talking to her friends about her condo, how great it is to live alone, her ex-boyfriend, her disastrous interview with Southwest for a flight attendants job, and so much more -- finally get off the train in Baltimore, leaving me in peace and quiet for the 10 minutes it took to get from Baltimore to the BWI Rail Station.
- Finding the British Open live on ESPN at 6:30AM this morning when I was eating my cereal. Now, if only Mike Tirico wasn't doing the announcing.
- New Green Day.
- Stumbling across a Real Housewives reunion show on Bravo.
- Daydreaming on www.realtor.com.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
If If's and But's Were Candy and Nuts, We'd All Have a Merry Christmas
Several times this weekend, I've sat down at the laptop with every intention of beginning to read the Freeh report. Given that it's much too muggy here in central Maryland to do all the outside chores on my list, I don't really have any excuse not to start reading it. The reason that I haven't is that, to be honest, I'm not sure it would be a good idea.
Since I haven't read the report yet, I've settled for the press release, numerous news articles, and commentary from the fanatics (on both sides of the issue) at www.blackshoediaries.com. I think I get the gist of things. But, since I'm a glutton for punishment, I know I will read it at some point. Why not, right?
In the midst of all this hullabaloo, ESPNU has been running the Top 25 games of the 2011 season all weekend. Nick's watched a few of them as he gears up for the fall. Right now, he's in the midst of the Stanford - Oklahoma State Fiesta Bowl. It looks like a good game and, since I can't remember the outcome, it's tempting to sit down and watch it with him. But, I just don't have the stomach for it. I need a break from college football.
That's a sentence I never thought I'd type. College football is my game. It replaced the NFL about 10 years ago at the top of my list. And, Penn State is my team. But, right now, I've got too many conflicted emotions to start thinking about the 2012 season, let alone getting excited about it. I'm sure I'll come around at some point. It's going to take a while, though. What's going to be doubly hard is that I won't have Nick here to get me charged up each Saturday. I guess I'll have to figure this all out on my own.
P.S. If you want to know how hard it is not to be reminded of the whole Penn State saga, here's a good story for you. I wasn't exactly sure how to spell "hullabaloo." So, I went to Google to check. I typed in my first guess - "hulabaloo." That was wrong, so I typed "hullabaloo." Can you guess what the first Google search item was? It was a post from some bozo's blog about Penn State and Joe Paterno negotiating a retirement package in January 2011, right in the midst of the grand jury "hullabaloo." You can't make this up, can you?
Since I haven't read the report yet, I've settled for the press release, numerous news articles, and commentary from the fanatics (on both sides of the issue) at www.blackshoediaries.com. I think I get the gist of things. But, since I'm a glutton for punishment, I know I will read it at some point. Why not, right?
In the midst of all this hullabaloo, ESPNU has been running the Top 25 games of the 2011 season all weekend. Nick's watched a few of them as he gears up for the fall. Right now, he's in the midst of the Stanford - Oklahoma State Fiesta Bowl. It looks like a good game and, since I can't remember the outcome, it's tempting to sit down and watch it with him. But, I just don't have the stomach for it. I need a break from college football.
That's a sentence I never thought I'd type. College football is my game. It replaced the NFL about 10 years ago at the top of my list. And, Penn State is my team. But, right now, I've got too many conflicted emotions to start thinking about the 2012 season, let alone getting excited about it. I'm sure I'll come around at some point. It's going to take a while, though. What's going to be doubly hard is that I won't have Nick here to get me charged up each Saturday. I guess I'll have to figure this all out on my own.
P.S. If you want to know how hard it is not to be reminded of the whole Penn State saga, here's a good story for you. I wasn't exactly sure how to spell "hullabaloo." So, I went to Google to check. I typed in my first guess - "hulabaloo." That was wrong, so I typed "hullabaloo." Can you guess what the first Google search item was? It was a post from some bozo's blog about Penn State and Joe Paterno negotiating a retirement package in January 2011, right in the midst of the grand jury "hullabaloo." You can't make this up, can you?
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Do As I Say, Not As I Do
As you learned in my story about ride-sharing from LAX a few weeks ago, I really do try to spend the company's money like I'd spend my own. For example, I hate to pay for garage parking when I know I'm only going to be there for 2 hours. Who wants to pay $20 (or more) when, if you're willing to walk a few blocks, there's bound to be street parking?
This week, I had to go into DC for meetings three times. Each time, I knew I'd only be parked for an hour or two. So, I was intent on finding a spot on the street. It used to be that, when I needed to find street parking, I worried about one thing and one thing only -- do I have enough quarters in my car to feed the meter? That concern has largely gone away since both DC and Baltimore have changed most of their meters over to accept credit cards. I still carry a sandwich bag filled with change, though, in my car. I can't get out of that habit.
Anyway, I no longer really need to be concerned about having enough change. That concern has been replaced by an altogether new one -- am I going to be able to successfully parallel park?
It's true. All of a sudden, I've kind of forgotten how to parallel park. It started about a year ago. I've parallel parked so many times in my life that it had become automatic. I didn't even have to think about it. But, recently, I've started to have episodes where I just can't seem to get it right.
On Monday, I had no problem. I found a spot on N Street and, without thinking at all, next thing I knew I had squeezed my car into its space. Tuesday was an entirely different story. I was on 4th Street, over by Judiciary Square. I quickly found a spot, stopped the car, and went into action. "Oops," I thought as I was backing up. "This isn't going to work." Sure enough, I hit the curb. I pulled out (luckily, there was a lull in the traffic) and started the process again. I got exactly the same result.
There I was, on display for all to see. My right rear tire was lodged against the curb. The nose of my car was jutting out into the traffic lane. By now, there was a line of cars waiting for me to complete my parking job. Rather than attempt it a third time, I just pulled out of the spot and drove on, hoping that no one would stop me and ask me to surrender my man card.
As I sheepishly pulled away, the clouds opened and a beam of sunlight shone down just one block ahead of me. The beam guided me to a couple of empty spots on the curb right next to each other. There was so much open space that I could just pull right in without going through the parallel parking process. Thank you, God!
Yesterday, I had to go into DC again. I was on 17th Street, just south of Rhode Island Avenue. I found a spot, gulped, and started to make my attempt. Thankfully, I made it on my first try! I breathed a sigh of relief and then started to ask myself why I was having this problem all of a sudden.
I think it all started with teaching Nick how to parallel park. There's a whole multi-step process that kids go through. First, you have to have the car in the proper position, aligned with the car you're going to park behind. Then, as you start to back up, you have to remember to not turn the steering wheel until you get to the right spot. There are several more steps to learn. I'm sure it's the same exact process that I learned almost 30 years ago. Unfortunately, now I'm thinking too much rather than just going with the flow. I should know better since thinking always gets me in trouble. I might have to line some cones up in the driveway this weekend and get back to basics.
This week, I had to go into DC for meetings three times. Each time, I knew I'd only be parked for an hour or two. So, I was intent on finding a spot on the street. It used to be that, when I needed to find street parking, I worried about one thing and one thing only -- do I have enough quarters in my car to feed the meter? That concern has largely gone away since both DC and Baltimore have changed most of their meters over to accept credit cards. I still carry a sandwich bag filled with change, though, in my car. I can't get out of that habit.
Anyway, I no longer really need to be concerned about having enough change. That concern has been replaced by an altogether new one -- am I going to be able to successfully parallel park?
It's true. All of a sudden, I've kind of forgotten how to parallel park. It started about a year ago. I've parallel parked so many times in my life that it had become automatic. I didn't even have to think about it. But, recently, I've started to have episodes where I just can't seem to get it right.
On Monday, I had no problem. I found a spot on N Street and, without thinking at all, next thing I knew I had squeezed my car into its space. Tuesday was an entirely different story. I was on 4th Street, over by Judiciary Square. I quickly found a spot, stopped the car, and went into action. "Oops," I thought as I was backing up. "This isn't going to work." Sure enough, I hit the curb. I pulled out (luckily, there was a lull in the traffic) and started the process again. I got exactly the same result.
There I was, on display for all to see. My right rear tire was lodged against the curb. The nose of my car was jutting out into the traffic lane. By now, there was a line of cars waiting for me to complete my parking job. Rather than attempt it a third time, I just pulled out of the spot and drove on, hoping that no one would stop me and ask me to surrender my man card.
As I sheepishly pulled away, the clouds opened and a beam of sunlight shone down just one block ahead of me. The beam guided me to a couple of empty spots on the curb right next to each other. There was so much open space that I could just pull right in without going through the parallel parking process. Thank you, God!
Yesterday, I had to go into DC again. I was on 17th Street, just south of Rhode Island Avenue. I found a spot, gulped, and started to make my attempt. Thankfully, I made it on my first try! I breathed a sigh of relief and then started to ask myself why I was having this problem all of a sudden.
I think it all started with teaching Nick how to parallel park. There's a whole multi-step process that kids go through. First, you have to have the car in the proper position, aligned with the car you're going to park behind. Then, as you start to back up, you have to remember to not turn the steering wheel until you get to the right spot. There are several more steps to learn. I'm sure it's the same exact process that I learned almost 30 years ago. Unfortunately, now I'm thinking too much rather than just going with the flow. I should know better since thinking always gets me in trouble. I might have to line some cones up in the driveway this weekend and get back to basics.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Erggh-grrrr-erggh.
That's really all I have to say (or feel like saying) tonight. It's probably for the best.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
The First Sign of the Apocalypse
All throughout the day yesterday, something would happen and I would make a mental note to myself to write a post about it. Ideas that I had included a movie script about Tom Cruise's attempt to kidnap Suri, the difficulty I have watching anything on TV that's not in HD, and the lesson Jay's teaching me by refusing to call or text us during his mission trip to North Carolina. I had several more ideas but I wasn't carrying my little notebook around with me to capture them and now they're forgotten.
At the end of the work day, I had every intention to sit down and write something. However, before I knew it, it was dark and I was tired. So, I went up to bed. I just didn't have the energy to get online. To make up for that, I reset my alarm to go off 10 minutes early so that I could write something as soon as I got up in the morning.
Now, it's 5:30AM and I'm sitting here wondering about the absurdity of setting my alarm to get up early just to post a blog entry. Really? Has it gotten that bad? Honestly, I think the answer has to be "yes." In fact, I may need an intervention. It's a little embarassing to even be sitting here writing this so early in the morning. There's no way I could come up with anything terribly good in just 10 minutes (which is all the time I've given myself). I'm sorry.
The good news (sort of) is that I've got 9 hours in the car heading back and forth to Roanoke today and tomorrow. I'll do my best to dream up something worthwhile in my head so that I don't have to repeat this same silly exercise on Friday morning. I get up early enough already.
At the end of the work day, I had every intention to sit down and write something. However, before I knew it, it was dark and I was tired. So, I went up to bed. I just didn't have the energy to get online. To make up for that, I reset my alarm to go off 10 minutes early so that I could write something as soon as I got up in the morning.
Now, it's 5:30AM and I'm sitting here wondering about the absurdity of setting my alarm to get up early just to post a blog entry. Really? Has it gotten that bad? Honestly, I think the answer has to be "yes." In fact, I may need an intervention. It's a little embarassing to even be sitting here writing this so early in the morning. There's no way I could come up with anything terribly good in just 10 minutes (which is all the time I've given myself). I'm sorry.
The good news (sort of) is that I've got 9 hours in the car heading back and forth to Roanoke today and tomorrow. I'll do my best to dream up something worthwhile in my head so that I don't have to repeat this same silly exercise on Friday morning. I get up early enough already.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Just Desserts
My old, decrepit body has finally recovered from my waterskiing "accident." In fact, the only time I really complain about my sore ribs is when I'm trying to get out of some sort of physical competition with Jay or want some sympathy from Kim. Unfortunately for me, both of them are too smart to fall for that.
So, since my ribs no longer really hurt that much, I'm back to running. This morning, I headed out for a short, leisurely Sunday morning run. It's been just over a week since the big storm came through and knocked out our power. While the power's been back on for a while, the damage that the storm created is still quite visible on our street. Winds from the storm damaged several dozen of the sycamores that line the street. While a couple trees sustained pretty significant damage, with their entire tops snapping right off, most of the damage consisted of large limbs being downed.
Technically, the sycamores are owned and maintained by the County. So, there appears to be some uncertainty about how to dispose of the fallen limbs. Some homeowners have hauled them back to the woods behind their homes. Others have organized them into piles next to the street. The third group has left the limbs right where they fell.
Today, I decided it was my civic duty to help out that third group of homeowners. You see, I like order. Seeing those random limbs just laying all over the place was starting to drive me a bit crazy. So, as I ran down the street, I decided to organize them. Whenever I found a stray limb on the ground, I stopped running, grabbed the limb by one end, and dragged it to the nearest pile. After placing it on top of the pile, I started off again.
By the time I got to the end of the street, I was feeling pretty proud of myself. One entire side of the street now had no stray branches. Instead, it had nice, neat, organized piles of branches. Progress!
After getting to the end of the street, I ran up Howard Road for a bit, and then turned around to head home. As I approached Big Branch Drive again, I was looking forward to cleaning up the other side of the street.
As you enter our street, there are no homes on the right hand side for one hundred yards or so. On this right hand side, the County had the developer build a retaining area to handle run-off water from heavy rains. In typical bureaucratic fashion, even though this retaining area never has water in it for more than a couple hours per year, the County also mandated that a guard rail be placed there.
Some of the sycamores behind this guard rail had lost limbs, as well. At first, I was just going to leave them where they'd fallen as they weren't that visible. But, you know me. Once I start a job (particularly a completely ridiculous one like this street clean-up operation), I have to finish it. So, I hopped the guard rail and started dragging limbs into piles. It didn't take long. I surveyed my work. It looked splendid. I was so proud of myself for being such a responsible neighbor. With my job done, it was time to get back to running. I approached the guard rail and began to hop over it.
Over the Memorial Day weekend, we had a family tennis tournament. We were playing doubles. I was up at the net. A couple of times, shots were hit that required me to leave my feet to hit a return volley. Unfortunately, I can't jump. The best I can do is get about 2 inches off the ground. Everyone who saw me trying to play at the net that morning got a real kick out of watching my pathetic attempts at jumping.
I wish I had remembered those howls of derision when I tried to jump the guard rail this morning. If I had, I probably wouldn't be sitting here two hours later with my left knee still throbbing in pain. That's right. I have replaced my sore ribs with a bruised knee. I've iced it and elevated it but it's just getting worse. When will I learn?
So, since my ribs no longer really hurt that much, I'm back to running. This morning, I headed out for a short, leisurely Sunday morning run. It's been just over a week since the big storm came through and knocked out our power. While the power's been back on for a while, the damage that the storm created is still quite visible on our street. Winds from the storm damaged several dozen of the sycamores that line the street. While a couple trees sustained pretty significant damage, with their entire tops snapping right off, most of the damage consisted of large limbs being downed.
Technically, the sycamores are owned and maintained by the County. So, there appears to be some uncertainty about how to dispose of the fallen limbs. Some homeowners have hauled them back to the woods behind their homes. Others have organized them into piles next to the street. The third group has left the limbs right where they fell.
Today, I decided it was my civic duty to help out that third group of homeowners. You see, I like order. Seeing those random limbs just laying all over the place was starting to drive me a bit crazy. So, as I ran down the street, I decided to organize them. Whenever I found a stray limb on the ground, I stopped running, grabbed the limb by one end, and dragged it to the nearest pile. After placing it on top of the pile, I started off again.
By the time I got to the end of the street, I was feeling pretty proud of myself. One entire side of the street now had no stray branches. Instead, it had nice, neat, organized piles of branches. Progress!
After getting to the end of the street, I ran up Howard Road for a bit, and then turned around to head home. As I approached Big Branch Drive again, I was looking forward to cleaning up the other side of the street.
As you enter our street, there are no homes on the right hand side for one hundred yards or so. On this right hand side, the County had the developer build a retaining area to handle run-off water from heavy rains. In typical bureaucratic fashion, even though this retaining area never has water in it for more than a couple hours per year, the County also mandated that a guard rail be placed there.
Some of the sycamores behind this guard rail had lost limbs, as well. At first, I was just going to leave them where they'd fallen as they weren't that visible. But, you know me. Once I start a job (particularly a completely ridiculous one like this street clean-up operation), I have to finish it. So, I hopped the guard rail and started dragging limbs into piles. It didn't take long. I surveyed my work. It looked splendid. I was so proud of myself for being such a responsible neighbor. With my job done, it was time to get back to running. I approached the guard rail and began to hop over it.
Over the Memorial Day weekend, we had a family tennis tournament. We were playing doubles. I was up at the net. A couple of times, shots were hit that required me to leave my feet to hit a return volley. Unfortunately, I can't jump. The best I can do is get about 2 inches off the ground. Everyone who saw me trying to play at the net that morning got a real kick out of watching my pathetic attempts at jumping.
I wish I had remembered those howls of derision when I tried to jump the guard rail this morning. If I had, I probably wouldn't be sitting here two hours later with my left knee still throbbing in pain. That's right. I have replaced my sore ribs with a bruised knee. I've iced it and elevated it but it's just getting worse. When will I learn?
Friday, July 6, 2012
Things To Do In a Heat Wave
It's 7:56PM and the thermometer reads 89 degrees. That's down from 104 degrees just before 5PM. Tomorrow it's going to be even hotter. My big plans for the day were to watch golf but it doesn't look like my buddy, Tiger, is going to be around for the weekend. So, what am I supposed to do with myself? I think it could be a good time to balance the budget.
For the longest time, we didn't have a formal budget. All of our finances were kept nice and neat in my head. Those were the days. Things were rosy. Life was good. Or, so we thought.
I still remember exactly where I was when I decided we needed to get serious and set a budget. It was just past 3PM on October 9, 2008. We were on a college tour with Hannah, making a swing through North Carolina, at Elon University. The campus was beautiful, the tour guide was friendly, and the visit was going well. Elon had recently built a new building for their business program and the tour guide proudly took us in to see it.
As we walked in, I noticed a huge television screen and a giant stock ticker on our left. Just two days before, the market had continued its downward trend, falling over 500 points. With that in mind, I stole a quick glance at the ticker. "Good news," I thought to myself. "The market is only down 200 points today." I breathed a sigh of relief and rejoined the tour.
We meandered through the lobby and visited a couple classrooms. It was quite impressive. There were flat screens, projectors, and PC's everywhere. All that tuition money had been put to good use. Less than ten minutes later, the building visit was over and we made our way back to the exit. That meant, of course, another stroll past the big stock ticker. "Holy crap," I thought to myself. "What the hell happened?" The market was now down nearly 700 points!
After quickly calculating my new net worth, my next thought was to wonder why Elon would put such a stark reminder of our dwindling fortunes right in front of us as we toured their shiny new building. After all, we were prospective tuition payers. Money was king of important to us. Once I'd asked myself that question, I made a silent vow to go home and build a budget.
So, that's how I find myself sitting here gearing up for an hour or two of sheer joy in the study tomorrow with my checkbook and all of the bills we've paid over the past 6 months piled in front of me. I'll be dutifully tallying up all our outflows and seeing how well they match up to the expectations we set at the beginning of the year. I can't wait. I guess it beats pulling crabgrass in 104 degree weather. At least I think it does.
For the longest time, we didn't have a formal budget. All of our finances were kept nice and neat in my head. Those were the days. Things were rosy. Life was good. Or, so we thought.
I still remember exactly where I was when I decided we needed to get serious and set a budget. It was just past 3PM on October 9, 2008. We were on a college tour with Hannah, making a swing through North Carolina, at Elon University. The campus was beautiful, the tour guide was friendly, and the visit was going well. Elon had recently built a new building for their business program and the tour guide proudly took us in to see it.
As we walked in, I noticed a huge television screen and a giant stock ticker on our left. Just two days before, the market had continued its downward trend, falling over 500 points. With that in mind, I stole a quick glance at the ticker. "Good news," I thought to myself. "The market is only down 200 points today." I breathed a sigh of relief and rejoined the tour.
We meandered through the lobby and visited a couple classrooms. It was quite impressive. There were flat screens, projectors, and PC's everywhere. All that tuition money had been put to good use. Less than ten minutes later, the building visit was over and we made our way back to the exit. That meant, of course, another stroll past the big stock ticker. "Holy crap," I thought to myself. "What the hell happened?" The market was now down nearly 700 points!
After quickly calculating my new net worth, my next thought was to wonder why Elon would put such a stark reminder of our dwindling fortunes right in front of us as we toured their shiny new building. After all, we were prospective tuition payers. Money was king of important to us. Once I'd asked myself that question, I made a silent vow to go home and build a budget.
So, that's how I find myself sitting here gearing up for an hour or two of sheer joy in the study tomorrow with my checkbook and all of the bills we've paid over the past 6 months piled in front of me. I'll be dutifully tallying up all our outflows and seeing how well they match up to the expectations we set at the beginning of the year. I can't wait. I guess it beats pulling crabgrass in 104 degree weather. At least I think it does.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
I Can Do This
When I was young, I was a voracious reader. The impetus for all that reading most likely was the fact that we didn't have a television from the time I was in 5th grade up through my early years in high school. Even when we finally joined the rest of the world and re-connected the television, I still kept right on reading. During summer vacations, it wasn't unusual for me to plow through 2 or 3 books a week. That was particularly true during the time I was lifeguarding when we had the awesome "15 minutes on, 45 minutes off" schedule.
As soon as high school ended, so did my reading. Books just became too intimidating to me. The time commitment that they required seemed overwhelming. There have been a couple exceptions over the past 25 years. For example, I've read all of Jon Krakauer's books. And, there was my "Hunger Games" period last year. But, I've event stopped reading Stephen King novels. I occasionally get them for Christmas and birthday gifts but they just pile up on the bookshelves.
So, last Saturday, when the power had been out for over 12 hours and it appeared that it wouldn't be coming back anytime soon, I had a choice to make. A couple years ago, Hannah had found a book called "The Passage" by Justin Cronin. Hannad had read that Stephen King had called it his favorite novel of the year. She'd grown up seeing the Stephen King collection in our study and, based on that, decided it would make a great birthday present for me. I remember reading the inside jacket when I opened it and deciding that it actually looked pretty interesting. I made a vow to read it and, instead of putting it on the bookshelf, set it on my desk in our bedroom.
For the next two years, the book sat there, unopened. Every once in a while, I'd look at it and tell myself that I really should sit down and give it a chance. But, each time I said that to myself, I chickened out. Did I really want to make that investment of time? Wouldn't it be easier to simply turn on the TV and flip through channels for a while or waste some time on the internet? Easier always won out.
On Saturday afternoon, TV was no option and I was conserving the battery on the iPad for important stuff, like checking www.pgatour.com for leaderboard updates from the AT&T National. I broke down, picked up the book, and started to read.
The book is very derivative of "The Stand" (with a little "Salem's Lot" thrown in for good measure). As those are two of my all-time favorite Stephen King novels, that's not too much of a bad thing. I'm happy to report that I'm now 275 pages into it. Even after the power came back on Saturday night, I've continued to plow away, putting away another 50 pages yesterday. I've got 500 more pages to go. I think I may actually make it.
As soon as high school ended, so did my reading. Books just became too intimidating to me. The time commitment that they required seemed overwhelming. There have been a couple exceptions over the past 25 years. For example, I've read all of Jon Krakauer's books. And, there was my "Hunger Games" period last year. But, I've event stopped reading Stephen King novels. I occasionally get them for Christmas and birthday gifts but they just pile up on the bookshelves.
So, last Saturday, when the power had been out for over 12 hours and it appeared that it wouldn't be coming back anytime soon, I had a choice to make. A couple years ago, Hannah had found a book called "The Passage" by Justin Cronin. Hannad had read that Stephen King had called it his favorite novel of the year. She'd grown up seeing the Stephen King collection in our study and, based on that, decided it would make a great birthday present for me. I remember reading the inside jacket when I opened it and deciding that it actually looked pretty interesting. I made a vow to read it and, instead of putting it on the bookshelf, set it on my desk in our bedroom.
For the next two years, the book sat there, unopened. Every once in a while, I'd look at it and tell myself that I really should sit down and give it a chance. But, each time I said that to myself, I chickened out. Did I really want to make that investment of time? Wouldn't it be easier to simply turn on the TV and flip through channels for a while or waste some time on the internet? Easier always won out.
On Saturday afternoon, TV was no option and I was conserving the battery on the iPad for important stuff, like checking www.pgatour.com for leaderboard updates from the AT&T National. I broke down, picked up the book, and started to read.
The book is very derivative of "The Stand" (with a little "Salem's Lot" thrown in for good measure). As those are two of my all-time favorite Stephen King novels, that's not too much of a bad thing. I'm happy to report that I'm now 275 pages into it. Even after the power came back on Saturday night, I've continued to plow away, putting away another 50 pages yesterday. I've got 500 more pages to go. I think I may actually make it.
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