Things To Do While Waiting For The Power To Go Out

For the first 10 years we were in this house, losing power during a storm never really seemed to be a threat.  It happened every once in a while but never for more than a couple hours.  Lately, though, we've had a run of bad luck, losing power for days at a time twice in the past 15 months.

With Hurricane Sandy reaching her apex right now in central Maryland, I'm expecting the power to go out at any moment.  In advance of that happening, there are a couple things I need to do.  They're simple things that I don't really appreciate until I can't do them anymore.  Things like:

• Brushing my teeth.  Yes, I could brush my teeth without power, using some of the water we've got sitting in bath tubs.  But, everybody knows that the only way to really clean off your toothbrush is to run it under the tap.  Do you really think you can get all that old spit off the toothbrush just by pouring a little water on it out of a cup?  I don't.
• Turning on all the lights in the kitchen.  Normally, I'm fighting an urge to turn off all the lights as soon as a room is empty.  Isn't that what they taught us all to do back in the 1970's?  Tonight, though, I'm leaving them all on even when I leave the room. 
• Using the automatic garage door opener.  No, I don't need to take the car out.  But, I'm still going to raise and lower the door in my garage bay one more time tonight.
• Charging my antique cell phone.  I still have my old number tied to that phone and I don't even check it for messages anymore.  But, since I've got electricity right now, I might as well charge it up just in case.
• Flushing the toilet. That's right -- flushing the toilet.  In fact, I just forced myself to go to the bathroom even though it wasn't really necessary.  Why?  Because I wanted to flush.  Trust me. You'd do the same thing. 

The Question 7 Dilemma

Maryland is a heavily Democratic state.  In an election year, that's both good and bad.  It's good because the Republicans realize that spending money on political advertising on any state-wide race would be a waste of money.  That means that the Democrats don't have to spend any money, either.  So, unlike battleground states like Ohio and Virginia, we see almost no political ads for either Romney or Obama.  Seems like a good thing, right?  Unfortunately, not.  You see, with all that ad space available, there's unlimited TV time available for ballot issues specific to the state.

This year, the big issue in Maryland is Question 7.  Right now, commercial gambling in Maryland is limited to slot machines.  Question 7 asks Maryland voters to decide if they want commercial gambling in the state to expand to include table games.

I'm not going to give you my opinion on Question 7.  That's not really important.  Plus, you probably don't really care what I think.  I'm sure that you're much more interested in the opinion of former Baltimore Ravens tackle Jonathan Ogden.  Apparently, that's what the proponents of Question 7 think since that's who they're using in the latest ad campaign in support of the measure.  That's right, the same Jonathan Ogden who's previous television commercial campaign can be seen below:

Aren't local politics great?

I Want My (Old) HGTV!

I don't ask for much.  Well, maybe that's not exactly true.  But, when it comes to television viewing, my tastes run pretty simple.  Sports, re-runs of true crime shows on ID, and HGTV.  That's all I need.  Lately, though, things haven't been going so well.

The problem is that HGTV has decided to shake things up for its viewers.  For a long time, I knew that, no matter what time I tuned in, I had a 90% chance of seeing "House Hunters," "House Hunters: International," or "Selling New York."  I was a happy camper.  Then, somebody in the programming department of HGTV decided to get cute.

About two years ago, they introduced us to "Holmes on Homes."  Mike Holmes is a big burly guy.  His specialty is to find a homeowner who hired a contractor who did an exceptionally shoddy job.  Mike points this out to the homeowner (who, quite clearly, already knows tit.  Then, he fixes the problem.  Have I mentioned that he does all this while wearing bib overalls with no shirt.  I'm a fan of bib overalls.  In fact, I've asked for a pair for Christmas for the past few years.  But, no shirt?  Come on.  Who needs to see that?

When "Holmes on Homes" was introduced, I sucked it up as best as I could.  It was tough, but I did it.  Eventually, I learned when it was on so that I could avoid it.  Things almost returned to normal.  But, this summer, the roof seemed to cave in at HGTV.  My old stand-by's disappeared from my prime viewing times of 8PM - 10PM.  In their place, joining good old Mike Holmes were "The Property Brothers" and "Love It Or List It."

I don't understand what HGTV was thinking with these two shows.  They're just no good.  They each have two big problems:

• First, both of them are one hour long.  Trust me -- that's entirely too long for an HGTV show.  HGTV shows should never last more than 30 minutes.  I want to get in quick, live vicariously through someone else for a while, and then get out.  I don't want to make a real investment of my time.  In fact, if I've only got 15 free minutes, that should be more than enough for me to get the basic gist of the show.
• Second, other than my beloved Kleier's on "Selling New York," no HGTV show needs a personality.  Take "House Hunters" and "House Hunters International."  They don't even have an on-camera host.  Why?  Because it's just not necessary.  Tell that to the producers of "The Property Brothers" and "Love It Or List It."  Jonathan and Drew Scott are the property brothers.  Between them, they have exactly zero personality.  Don't believe me?  Watch them and then decide.  On "Love It Or List It," we get David and Hilary (plus Hillary's trusty assistant Desta).  I give the three of them a bit more credit -- between them, they have a little personality.

I miss Michelle Kleier.  If you see her, please say "hello" for me. 

I Am Officially In Love With Bill O'Brien

When Penn State hired Bill O'Brien, I had a one word response: "Who?"  Now, after watching Coach O'Brien at the helm through his first seven games, I've moved from one word to three: "Thank you, Jesus." 

The truth is, I've been developing a crush on Bill O'Brien all fall.  Even after the early losses to Ohio and Virginia, I think I might have kissed him if I'd seen him.  It wasn't just that dimple on his chin.  It was the way he completely "gets" Penn State.  Though he'd only been affiliated with the school since January, he seemed to immediately understand what made it so special -- the sense of community, the tradition, and the "can do" attitude that you see whenever you're up in State College.  Every time he spoke, you could tell that he understood all that.

Most importantly, with each public statement that he made, Coach O'Brien stressed the importance of team unity and reminded us of the remarkable commitment that the players who'd stayed had made to the school.  Additionally, he made it clear that no one associated with the football program was spending any time feeling sorry for themselves.  Instead, they were going to outwork and outthink their competition.  Hmmm.  Good advice.

Watching Penn State thrash Iowa last night, my little crush became full-blown love.

It happened at the very beginning of the second half.  Just before the second-half kick-off, the sideline reporter was doing a quick interview with Coach O'Brien.  With Penn State already up 24-0, he was asked what his locker-room message to his team had been.  Bill's response: "I told them it's 0-0."

OK.  I get it.  A lot of coaches would say something like that.  After all, it's the easy thing to say.  But, how many of them really mean it?

Bill meant it.  He called a long bomb on the very first play of the half.  It worked and, just one play later, Penn State was up 31-0.  Game, set, match. 

After the game, the same reporter caught up to Coach O'Brien on the sideline.  His team had just won at Kinnick Stadium for the first time since 1999.  They were 3-0 in the conference and winners of five straight games.  Did he smile?  Hell, no.  He simply praised the toughness of his players, reminded us watching at home that there's another game next week, and then turned around and left the field.

Bill O'Brien is playing the hand he's been dealt and he's not complaining about it.  He's getting the most out his players.  It's truly remarkable to watch.  Better yet, it's fun.

So, when I go to bed this evening and silently recite the reasons I'm thankful, Bill's going to be up there on my list.  Just how high is my little secret.

MicroDry? I Don't Think So.

I generally find that anything that has to do with personal grooming is highly annoying.  When I'm clipping my nails, getting my hair cut, shaving, or cleaning the wax out of my ears, I often find myself asking God questions.  "Hey, God," I call out.  "Couldn't you have created a hearing system that didn't involve wax build-up?  And was it really necessary to make our hair and nails grow?  You can't tell me it's that important to have hair.  If it were, why are you letting me go bald?"

The one exception to my dislike of personal grooming is that I really do enjoy taking a nice hot shower.  Unfortunately, even that's not been all that great as of late.  It's all because we got new bath towels.

I hadn't realized how much time had gone by since the last time we bought bath towels.   Apparently, advancing technology has even made its way to bath towels.  Kim bought a set of "Performance Towels" with MicroDry fibers.  Sounds impressive, right?  Here's how these towels are described on their web site: 
 

These are the towels you've always dreamed of. The CoreTex™ microfiber
is so luxuriously soft and ultra-absorbent that you'll be almost completely
dry the instant you wrap yourself in one. This means no more harsh rubbing
that can deplete your skin's natural moisture. Quite simply, these bath linens
are so gentle, they'll become an essential part of your skin care regimen.

I should have known as soon as I saw the dangling preposition at the end of the first sentence that these towels were going to be a problem.  I used to be able to step out of the shower and towel dry in less than a minute.  For example, I'd take my old trusty towel, rub it up and down on my left arm once, and be done with that arm.  Not any longer.  Now, it's rub once, rub twice, rub a third time, and then sigh heavily as you realize that there's still a fine mist on your arm and you're going to have to start all over again.

Basically, these MicroDry towels don't work.  A towel is supposed to dry you off quickly.  This whole claim of being "... almost completely dry the instant you wrap yourself in one" is nothing but crap.

Kim says that this MicroDry thing is pretty much all you can find.  Whatever.  My new MicroDry towel is now folded and sitting in the linen closet.  I've gone back to my trusty old faded and stained antique.  I don't care what it looks like.  It works perfectly fine for me.

And Another Thing ...

Kim has always told me that she likes it when I tell her what's going on at work.  Despite that, I hardly ever tell her anything.  The main reason for that is that I don't believe she really cares about all the craziness I observe on a daily basis.  And, I usually don't want to re-live all the nonsense once I'm home.

Tonight, though, the flood gates opened.  It probably was because I had a beer before dinner and then two glasses of wine during dinner.  I started with one (little) observation about a stupid little spreadsheet that I get asked to fill out weekly.  Before I knew it, I'd just spent 15 minutes ranting and raving about everything that's been driving me crazy and all the changes that need to be made.  I think I only paused for breath once during the whole episode.

The great thing about carrying on like that with Kim is that she's an outsider.  Because she's not in the trenches with me at work, she has to take my word as the gospel truth.  If I say I'm the smartest person at the office, how is she going to know any better?  If I say I've got all the answers, can she really doubt me? If I say that everything that's going wrong is someone else's fault, can she dispute that?  Best of all, if I want to take credit for all of our good results, does she have any evidence to show that isn't the case?

Re-reading that last paragraph, I'm now wondering why I don't unload all my drama on Kim more often.  Perhaps it's because I know that, deep down, she's just humoring me.  She's had way too much experience with me to really think that I've always got things figured out.  She's seen me make a few too many mistakes here on the home front.  Even so, it sure did feel nice to get all that stuff off my chest.

Thanks for listening, Kim.  I'm going to go have another glass of wine.

Who Wore It Best?

Yes, it's the feature you've all been waiting to see.  Stolen right out of the pages of my favorite rag mag, US Weekly, it's my very own version of "Who Wore It Best?"

Jay, in River Hill sweatshirt, LL Bean mocassins, and boxers.

 

Mike, in the same River Hill sweatshirt, different LL Bean mocassins, and (yes) the same boxers.

 

 

I know who has my vote.

Observations From the Streets of Baltimore

Yesterday was the Baltimore Running Festival.  Once again, I ran the half-marathon.  It was a beautiful day and, thankfully, things went well.

Every year, it seems like more and more people out on the course are wearing headphones and listening to music while they run.  I don't do that.  On a course like Baltimore's, there are always plenty of distractions.  Here's a sampling of a few of them from yesterday.

• Between miles 1 and 2, as you're running down Broadway, you pass an X-rated theater.  I've run the race for the past 4 years.  The first year, I was just stunned to see that X-rated theaters are still in existence.  I kind of thought they went out of business shortly after Pee-Wee Herman had his "incident" in one over twenty years ago.  I guess not.  Anyway, each year, I look forward to seeing if the theater is still open for business.  In case you're wondering, it is.
• Between miles 4 and 6, you run through some pretty rough neighborhoods.  I've spent plenty of time in Baltimore over the past two dozen years and the only times I've ever been in that part of the city is during the race.  There are lots of cops out on the course, primarily directing traffic and maintaining road closures.  Most of them are stone-faced and don't even acknowledge the runners.  This year, there was a noticeable exception as we ran down Madison Street.  As I approached the cop, I could hear him calling out a greeting to all the runners.  "Hey, runners.  You think you have it bad?" he shouted to us.  "I have to patrol these streets."  That actually made me laugh.
• One of the best ways to pass the time is to read the signs that spectators are holding.  Many of these are pretty standard, like little kids holding signs that say "Go, Mom."  But, there are always some clever ones.  This year, my favorites were "Run if you think I'm hot" and "Today: Baltimore Marathon.  Tomorrow: 'Law & Order' Marathon."
• Just before mile 8, an older woman was out on the side of the road with a megaphone.  She was singing the theme from "Rocky" in a very shaky soprano voice.  "Da-da da-da-da da-da-da da-da-da. Da-da da-da-da da-da-da da-da-da.  Da da-da da da-da-da-da, da-daaaaa.  Da-da daaaa.  Da-da daa."  That was it.  Over and over.  As Jay would say, she was horrifically horrifying.  I picked up my pace to put her behind me.
• During mile 9, I was running along, minding my own business.  All of a sudden, from just behind me, I heard a fellow runner start singing.  It was a man's voice.  "Risin' up, back on the street.  Did my time, took my chances."  I turned my head to see who it was.  It was a very regular looking guy, just about my age.  He had head phones on and he was very into his Survivor.  I started to laugh at him but then I realized that he was passing me.  He kept on going, distancing himself from me, singing "Eye of the Tiger" all the way.  I never caught back up to him.

Of all the things I saw, though, the absolute best is the furious motorists.  It's the same thing every year.  Streets are closed all over the city while the race is run.  That seems to really annoy a lot of people.  As you run, you get to pick up slices of the same "conversation" playing out throughout the city.  Indignant drivers are yelling at the cops about how they need to get across the street, how no one told them that the streets were going to be closed, and demanding that they be let across the street.  I've yet to see a driver win that argument. 

I Am A ... Republican?

Today's mailbag had three things in it for me:

• A postcard from Lexus telling me to come on in and pay $169 for a road map update for my navigation system.  Yes, my navigation system needs an update.  No, I do not want to pay Lexus $169 for it.
• The annual fund request from Bucknell.  That's fine.  Bucknell was good to me.
• A letter from Mitt Romney.

You read that third one correctly.  I got a note, personally addressed to me, from Mitt Romney.  I couldn't wait to open it.  Imagine my surprise when I read the opening line.  "Dear Michael," it read.  "I am running for President of the United States and because you are one of America's most notable Republicans, I want to personally let you know why."

What a revelation!  Not only am I apparently now a Republican, I'm a notable Republican.  Times must truly be tough for Republicans if I'm notable.  WaysPaul Ryan's performance in the debate last night really that bad?

In any event, the question I now have is why does Mitt think I'm a Republican?  Yes, I've voted for a couple of them (even if I can't remember all their names).  Yes, I supported the Intercounty Connector project all those years ago, over the loud cries of the environmentalists.  Yes, I complained when Howard County doubled my taxes for fire services, even though there's no fire station anywhere near our house.  And, yes, I live in Dayton.

Is that all it takes to be a Republican, though?  It must be.  I can't wait to learn the secret handshake.

The Finger of Dismissal

I'm sure that you've all either given or received the finger at some point in your life.  I know I have.  On Monday, Jay introduced me to something even better -- the finger of dismissal. 

Let me describe the finger of dismissal.

• First, you have to know when to use it.  For example, let's say that you're telling someone that they'd probably get their homework done much faster if they would just put their cell phone down, stop texting all their friends, and concentrate on the task at hand.   Halfway through your diatribe, the person simply cuts you off by giving you the finger of dismissal.  That would be a perfect time to use it.
• Next, you have to know how to give it.  It's a bit complicated.  Here's how I've seen it done by the master:
• Raise the arm that is closest to the person giving you the lecture and hold up the index finger on that hand.
• At the same time, turn your head in the opposite direction of your raised arm, tilt it downward, and stare down your nose.
• At no point do you say a word or even make a noise -- just hold your pose.

That, my friends, is the finger of dismissal.  It works like a charm.  Use it once and you'll soon be addicted.  I know I am.  In fact, less than 48 hours after being introduced to it, I'm already being accused of overuse.  I can never get too much of a good thing.

Considering the Future

Lately, Kim and I have been having an ongoing conversation about where we want to live when we "get old."  I think it's a normal discussion to be having when you're down to only one kid at home and you've got two empty bedrooms staring you in the face every day. 

We go round and round on where we should live.  I'm tired of spending time in my car and keep talking up the advantages of getting a condo or row house in the city.  Why?  Because I want to be able to walk out of my front door and have restaurant options.  It's that simple.  Kim, on the other hand, wants to live in a small town.  That town -- and her house -- needs to meet the following requirements:

• It has to be in a part of the country that has all four seasons.
• The house has to be on the water.
• She needs to be able to walk into town from the house.

I have to admit that her dream sounds nice, too.

The other complication to all this is that there are times that I can't imagine ever leaving this place.  Take yesterday afternoon.  I had just trimmed the crepe myrtles by the front walk.  I'd taken the limbs out into the woods behind the house, thrown them onto one of the piles of debris that's built up over the years, and was walking back towards the house.  I stepped out of the woods into the back yard and took a look around me.  The nandina that line the back patio were beginning to turn bronze.  The berries on the barberry bushes had begun to emerge.  The tulip poplar leaves were falling from the trees, leaving the lawn a mix of green, orange, and yellow.  I could hear a flock of geese honking in the distanance.

At that moment, everything was perfect.  "Why would I ever want to leave all this?" I asked myself.  I couldn't answer.  Eighteen hours later, I still can't.

Evolution?

As I write this, Swansea and Reading are tied 2-2 in the 84th minute at Liberty Stadium.  My Swans have gone into a tailspin since starting off the season so strongly and -- momentarily -- finding themselves on the top of the Premier League table.  In fact, they'd been shut out in three straight games before today's match.  I figured things had to change today against basement-dwelling and recently promoted Reading.

Since the game isn't on TV, I decided to do a little yard work before coming in to check the score.  I walked outside just before 10AM with no real idea about what to do.  Looking around, I decided that I might as well try to make a dent on some of the leaves that have fallen.

I've never really minded raking leaves since it's one of those jobs that allows you to track your progress pretty easily.  I spent 30 minutes with the blower in the back yard.  This early in the season, that was really all that was required.  After wrapping that up, I made the move to the front yard.  I don't know what happened from the back yard to the front but, as soon as I got started out front, I wanted to stop.  I had a whole slew of excuses:

• The front yard is too big and I really didn't want to make a full day of it.
• I was starting to sweat and I'd already taken a shower.
• I was thirsty but I'd forgotten to bring out a water bottle.
• Most of all, why bother when I was just going to have to do it all over again in a week or two?

I lasted for another 30 minutes and have been inside tracking the Swansea game on ESPN Gamecast ever since.  At first, that seemed to be as big a mistake as the leaf-raking exercise as Swansea was down 2-0 at halftime.  2-0!  To Reading!  But, the Swans have fought back to tie things up.

Anyway, the point of this is that I'm following a soccer game on Gamecast.  Yes, a soccer game.  Times have certainly changed.

The Long and Winding Road

Over the years, I've done more than my fair share of complaining about my commute to and from work.  Twenty years ago, it was delays on the MARC train as I headed in to Union Station.  Next, it became interminable back-ups on New York Avenue as I traipsed in to Dupont Circle.  Then, I had to deal with two hour trips on the Beltway home from McLean.  No matter where I've worked, I haven't been able to escape traffic.

Today, I actually missed being stuck in traffic.  Let me tell you why.

Shortly after 5:30PM, I was sitting in the basement, trying once more to log onto one of the company's numerous financial systems.  I needed to approve a payment to a vendor.  Of course, when I tried to log-on to the system, I got a prompt saying that it had been 90 days since I had last changed my password.  That meant I needed to create a new one.  I did that and then went back to the log-on screen.  No dice.  The stupid system wouldn't accept my new password.  After trying to enter it a second and then a third time, I got a message saying I'd exceeded the number of attempts and was being shut out permanently.  In order to get back in, I'd need to call my "system administrator."

Call my "system administrator."  Who the hell was that?  I had no idea.  Do you think they could give me a phone number?  Nope.  Just a message to make that call.

That was it.  While it was only 5:30PM, it had been a long day filled with one internal snafu after another.  I logged off, grabbed my empty water glass, and turned off the light.  I was fuming as I headed up the basement stairs to the kitchen.  I couldn't wait to start complaining to Kim about all the crap I'd had to put up with during the day.

When I got to the kitchen, I found that no one was there.  Kim was off picking Jay up from soccer practice.  When I realized that she wasn't around, I wasn't too happy.  I had some stuff I wanted to get off my chest and I needed an audience.  Where was Kim?  Didn't she want to listen to me rant and rave about my horrible day?

That's when it hit me.  God had created long commutes filled with slow-moving traffic so that stressed-out workers like me could unwind before they got home to their families.  All those long trips home had probably helped to save countless marriages.  I know that the time I spent in the car on the way home helped me calm down and forget the petty issues that had driven me crazy all day.

I'm thinking that the solution may just be to leave the basement, head straight to the garage, and hop in the car for a twenty-minute drive around Howard County.  As silly as that sounds, I think I may be in trouble if I don't do it.