My pot of gold is getting bigger. Life is good.
Thursday, May 09, 2013
Rainbow Connection
My pot of gold is getting bigger. Life is good.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Last Day of 8
Today is the last day Maxfield will be an 8 year old boy. He is moving forward, not a little boy anymore and not yet a tween or teenager. He is hitting that age where he is old enough to know better but still young enough to get away with it or to just not care.
This day also marks the anniversary of when my life changed forever. Prior to February 29th 2004 I was not a father. I never understood or experienced fear, frustration, anxiety, anger, helplessness or sadness like I do since that day. It overwhelms me.
But also prior to that day I also never experienced the joy, the laughter, the fun, the pride, the purpose, the drive, the gratitude, the blessings and the unconditional love like I do since that day. That too overwhelms me.
Maxfield, thank you for overwhelming me. You are old enough to know better, I will keep letting you get away with it.
This day also marks the anniversary of when my life changed forever. Prior to February 29th 2004 I was not a father. I never understood or experienced fear, frustration, anxiety, anger, helplessness or sadness like I do since that day. It overwhelms me.
But also prior to that day I also never experienced the joy, the laughter, the fun, the pride, the purpose, the drive, the gratitude, the blessings and the unconditional love like I do since that day. That too overwhelms me.
Maxfield, thank you for overwhelming me. You are old enough to know better, I will keep letting you get away with it.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Autograph
One Saturday morning I needed to pick up some beer, some fire logs and some snack type items for a fire pit gathering we were having. Where I live the best place to go to get these items is Wegmans. The best way to describe a Wegmans (if you are not familiar with Wegmans) is that it is a Super Super Market. Wegmans is like a Super Hero of Super Markets, like the leader of the Justice League of Super Markets. The Liquor Control Board of the State of PA restricts the sale of alcohol to only certain types of stores. Wegmans is the only grocery type of store in our area that can sell wine and beer. It is that awesome.
The place is always crazy packed with people and I figured by getting there at 9am I could avoid lines. When I pulled into the parking lot I was surprised at how many cars were already there. I walked in the store, the smell of fresh breads, soups and sauces were already wafting through the air, I was greeted by at least a half dozen employees. I asked the employee closest to me where I could find the fire logs. He had to ask the person next him and that person had to call someone on a radio. I found it odd that greeters did not know the layout of the store.
I was told the logs were at the opposite end of the store, past all the check-out lines. As I walked in that direction I realized that almost every cash register was manned by a Wegmans staff member and that there were no customers at all. I grabbed what I needed and headed in the other direction to get the beer. While walking I noticed that there were more Wegmans personnel mulling about the produce section. The place was mobbed with employees.
While paying for my beer I asked the woman at the cash register why there was so much staff on hand. She told me that the Wegman family was visiting the store so there were people from corporate as well as staff from another Wegmans to make the store seem more active (which explained why no one knew where the logs were). She told me Danny Wegman, the CEO, and his two daughters, both VPs in the company, as well as other bigwigs were at the store for an event.
I don't know why, or what came over me, but for some reason I knew I had to go and seek these people out.
Carrying my 12 pack of beer I walked back to the produce section. There were clusters of nicely dressed men and woman, all wearing Wegmans badges, scattered about the area. I approached one group.
"Excuse me," I interrupted the conversation. "I was told that the Wegman family is here."
A man in a dark blazer stepped forward. He pointed his finger to a large group of people gathered by the apples about 30 feet away. "You see the guy in the leather jacket? That is Danny Wegman. He is the CEO."
"What's he doing here?" I asked.
"The family makes sure they tour every store, to make sure it meets the standards."
"I want to get his autograph." I said.
The man in the blazer gave me a weird look.
"There is too many people around him." I added.
The woman next to the man in the blazer chuckled and chimed into the conversation.
"The woman standing there," she said pointing a few feet from me. "She is a Wegman. She is Danny's daughter."
"Is her last name Wegman?" I asked. "I don't want an autograph signed by Jones or Smith or something different if she is married and took her husband's last name."
"No. It is Wegman. Nicole Wegman." the woman said.
The woman then called Nicole over.
"Hi." I said shaking her hand while balancing a 12 pack of beer on my left arm. "Can I get your autograph?"
She smiled and blushed a bit. "Oh my. No one has ever asked me that before. Are you serious?"
"Yes." I said. "I love this store and I think it would be cool to have one of the Wegmans sign my receipt."
She blushed a bit more. The people around us chuckled and fawned over their boss as she asked me a few questions about why I liked the store. She genuinely seemed interested in my responses. Someone handed her a pen. I balanced the 12 pack on my raised knee as an improvised writing surface and handed her the receipt.
"I am so excited. No one has ever asked for my autograph." She said.
She signed the receipt.
"I'm Nicole." she said. " Thank you. This is a first for me."
I shook her hand again.
"Thank you." I said. "I am Bill. You never forget your first."
I walked away.
The place is always crazy packed with people and I figured by getting there at 9am I could avoid lines. When I pulled into the parking lot I was surprised at how many cars were already there. I walked in the store, the smell of fresh breads, soups and sauces were already wafting through the air, I was greeted by at least a half dozen employees. I asked the employee closest to me where I could find the fire logs. He had to ask the person next him and that person had to call someone on a radio. I found it odd that greeters did not know the layout of the store.
I was told the logs were at the opposite end of the store, past all the check-out lines. As I walked in that direction I realized that almost every cash register was manned by a Wegmans staff member and that there were no customers at all. I grabbed what I needed and headed in the other direction to get the beer. While walking I noticed that there were more Wegmans personnel mulling about the produce section. The place was mobbed with employees.
While paying for my beer I asked the woman at the cash register why there was so much staff on hand. She told me that the Wegman family was visiting the store so there were people from corporate as well as staff from another Wegmans to make the store seem more active (which explained why no one knew where the logs were). She told me Danny Wegman, the CEO, and his two daughters, both VPs in the company, as well as other bigwigs were at the store for an event.
I don't know why, or what came over me, but for some reason I knew I had to go and seek these people out.
Carrying my 12 pack of beer I walked back to the produce section. There were clusters of nicely dressed men and woman, all wearing Wegmans badges, scattered about the area. I approached one group.
"Excuse me," I interrupted the conversation. "I was told that the Wegman family is here."
A man in a dark blazer stepped forward. He pointed his finger to a large group of people gathered by the apples about 30 feet away. "You see the guy in the leather jacket? That is Danny Wegman. He is the CEO."
"What's he doing here?" I asked.
"The family makes sure they tour every store, to make sure it meets the standards."
"I want to get his autograph." I said.
The man in the blazer gave me a weird look.
"There is too many people around him." I added.
The woman next to the man in the blazer chuckled and chimed into the conversation.
"The woman standing there," she said pointing a few feet from me. "She is a Wegman. She is Danny's daughter."
"Is her last name Wegman?" I asked. "I don't want an autograph signed by Jones or Smith or something different if she is married and took her husband's last name."
"No. It is Wegman. Nicole Wegman." the woman said.
The woman then called Nicole over.
"Hi." I said shaking her hand while balancing a 12 pack of beer on my left arm. "Can I get your autograph?"
She smiled and blushed a bit. "Oh my. No one has ever asked me that before. Are you serious?"
"Yes." I said. "I love this store and I think it would be cool to have one of the Wegmans sign my receipt."
She blushed a bit more. The people around us chuckled and fawned over their boss as she asked me a few questions about why I liked the store. She genuinely seemed interested in my responses. Someone handed her a pen. I balanced the 12 pack on my raised knee as an improvised writing surface and handed her the receipt.
"I am so excited. No one has ever asked for my autograph." She said.
"I'm Nicole." she said. " Thank you. This is a first for me."
I shook her hand again.
"Thank you." I said. "I am Bill. You never forget your first."
I walked away.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Monday, November 26, 2012
Addiction Figures
Up until the Christmas of 1978 I played with the normal toys an 8 year old boy would at that time. I played with Matchbox cars, sticks, rocks, cap guns and I had the standard GI Joe and Action Man dolls. But that Christmas morning of 1978 opening a Star Wars Luke Skywalker 3 1/4 inch four points of articulation with the a telescoping light saber was an event that, although I did not know it at the time, was going to change my life. Action Figures as we know them today is largely due to the success of the Star Wars movie and Kenners' license to manufacture the toys. Between 1978 and 1982 our house must have had dozens and dozens of action figures laying around.
I eventually out grew playing with the figures, my interests switching to super hero comic books. In 1984 Mattel released a set of action figures based on Marvel Comics Secret War comic books. My mom could not believe that a 14 year boy was asking for action figures for Christmas. She did not understand the overwhelming need of a comic collector to posses a plastic replica of Wolverine and Captain America. I was able to secure two of each figure, one to play with and one to keep in it's package. Collecting toys was now one of my hobbies.
Over the next decade better designs and processes allowed for more articulation of parts and better paint detail in the figures. The figures were almost like pieces of art; sculptures with a little bit of playability. Throughout the late1980s and early 1990's collecting figures became a serious business. It also became a serious addiction for me.
I spent weekends searching the shelves of toy stores looking new and possibly rare toys, variants and misprints were key to a good collection. I knew some of the employees at Toys R Us that would allow me to check new cartons for "short packed" characters which were more rare. I would make sure that the blister pack and cardboard backing would stay in mint condition. During that time I had hundreds and hundreds of action figures laying around. Most were kept in boxes, while other hung on the walls of my apartment. I was single at the time (I did notice that I did not have many second dates) and had no other responsibilities. I was able to use some of the money from the sale of rare figures to put down on a car and pay for a vacation which was justifying my behavior to friends and family.
I ended up selling most of my collection in the late 1990's. I quit cold turkey. The hobby was costing me 30 to 50 bucks a week. What I did not sell I donated to the Children's Hospital.
I was action figure free for a while.
Once I had kids action figures started to creep their way back into my life but now they were called "guys." A Star Wars "guy " here and a Ben 10 "guy" there. Some of these "guys" were designed for little kids without much of a cool factor, while other "guys" were designed for a more sophisticated consumer without much playability. I was able to control my urges to buy every "guy" under the sun.
Last month Mattel through the group MommyParties reached out to me to see if I would be interested in hosting a Batman Power Attack party. It is like they knew I was a recovering Action Figure Addict and that I could not say no. They agreed to send me 10 new Batman Power Attack figures as well as party favors if I would host a party for kids to try to the figures.
The stuff that MommyParties and Mattel sent me was awesome. For a brief moment I considered keeping all the figures for myself. Oooh mint condition blister packs you are such a flirt. Why does the smell of cardboard and plastic have such an effect on me?
But I was good.
My boys, Maxfield, Wyatt and Jackson invited Zach, Gianni, Josh, Cristian and Gregory over for the party. Cristian and Gregory were probably the two that were most stoked about a Batman party, being that they are the die hard super hero fans. The kids ate chips and popcorn and drank juice while I gave them a brief history of Batman (the greatest super hero ever). The Batman Power Attack figures are bit larger and more durable than most of the action figures out there. The have just the right amount of articulation for the toys function or ability.
The figures were not too juvenile for the older 8 year old boys and not too scary for the Jackson and Gregory both just turning 4. All in all the kids seemed to have a good time.
Disclaimer-My opinions are my own. I did not receive any type of compensation for hosting the party besides the action figures and party favors. I did receive a few extra figures which I plan to donate to Toys for Tots. I did give my son Maxfield the Killer Croc figure which was the short packed figure. I cringed when he tore it from the blister pack. I also had mild heart palpitations when the dog started to chew the Robin figure that Jackson received. I ca not be held responsible for any of the boys who attended the party becoming addicted to toys nor for them not getting second dates when they are in their early 20's. I do want to thank Mommy Parties and Mattel for the opportunity and the toys. I also need to thank the boys' parents especially Tony P, Bill Z. and Lee G for letting their kids come over to play Batman.
I eventually out grew playing with the figures, my interests switching to super hero comic books. In 1984 Mattel released a set of action figures based on Marvel Comics Secret War comic books. My mom could not believe that a 14 year boy was asking for action figures for Christmas. She did not understand the overwhelming need of a comic collector to posses a plastic replica of Wolverine and Captain America. I was able to secure two of each figure, one to play with and one to keep in it's package. Collecting toys was now one of my hobbies.
Over the next decade better designs and processes allowed for more articulation of parts and better paint detail in the figures. The figures were almost like pieces of art; sculptures with a little bit of playability. Throughout the late1980s and early 1990's collecting figures became a serious business. It also became a serious addiction for me.
I spent weekends searching the shelves of toy stores looking new and possibly rare toys, variants and misprints were key to a good collection. I knew some of the employees at Toys R Us that would allow me to check new cartons for "short packed" characters which were more rare. I would make sure that the blister pack and cardboard backing would stay in mint condition. During that time I had hundreds and hundreds of action figures laying around. Most were kept in boxes, while other hung on the walls of my apartment. I was single at the time (I did notice that I did not have many second dates) and had no other responsibilities. I was able to use some of the money from the sale of rare figures to put down on a car and pay for a vacation which was justifying my behavior to friends and family.
I ended up selling most of my collection in the late 1990's. I quit cold turkey. The hobby was costing me 30 to 50 bucks a week. What I did not sell I donated to the Children's Hospital.
I was action figure free for a while.
Once I had kids action figures started to creep their way back into my life but now they were called "guys." A Star Wars "guy " here and a Ben 10 "guy" there. Some of these "guys" were designed for little kids without much of a cool factor, while other "guys" were designed for a more sophisticated consumer without much playability. I was able to control my urges to buy every "guy" under the sun.
Last month Mattel through the group MommyParties reached out to me to see if I would be interested in hosting a Batman Power Attack party. It is like they knew I was a recovering Action Figure Addict and that I could not say no. They agreed to send me 10 new Batman Power Attack figures as well as party favors if I would host a party for kids to try to the figures.
The stuff that MommyParties and Mattel sent me was awesome. For a brief moment I considered keeping all the figures for myself. Oooh mint condition blister packs you are such a flirt. Why does the smell of cardboard and plastic have such an effect on me?
But I was good.
My boys, Maxfield, Wyatt and Jackson invited Zach, Gianni, Josh, Cristian and Gregory over for the party. Cristian and Gregory were probably the two that were most stoked about a Batman party, being that they are the die hard super hero fans. The kids ate chips and popcorn and drank juice while I gave them a brief history of Batman (the greatest super hero ever). The Batman Power Attack figures are bit larger and more durable than most of the action figures out there. The have just the right amount of articulation for the toys function or ability.
Disclaimer-My opinions are my own. I did not receive any type of compensation for hosting the party besides the action figures and party favors. I did receive a few extra figures which I plan to donate to Toys for Tots. I did give my son Maxfield the Killer Croc figure which was the short packed figure. I cringed when he tore it from the blister pack. I also had mild heart palpitations when the dog started to chew the Robin figure that Jackson received. I ca not be held responsible for any of the boys who attended the party becoming addicted to toys nor for them not getting second dates when they are in their early 20's. I do want to thank Mommy Parties and Mattel for the opportunity and the toys. I also need to thank the boys' parents especially Tony P, Bill Z. and Lee G for letting their kids come over to play Batman.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Trophy
"Jackson put gum up his nose." Lauren said as she entered the house.
She was returning home from, what was clear to me, a frustrating trip to the store with the three boys. I have a sixth sense for these things. I can sense, well it is not really sense but more of just know, that anytime you try to take three boys to a store it will be frustrating. I also can tell the level of frustration based on how Lauren enters the house. When the first words out of her mouth are one of the kid's names or the phrase "You will not believe what THIS one did" it usually is not a good trip.
"Did you get it out?" I asked from my reclined spot on the couch. I lowered the volume of the football game that was on the TV. My Sunday afternoon plans were to lay on the couch, eat chips, drink a couple of beers and watch football.
"No. I was driving when he did it." She said. "He says it came out and he swallowed it."
Wyatt bounded into the room. "Dad, Jackson put gum up his nose."
"I told him not to do it." Max said as he followed Wyatt.
"I heard. What kind on gum was it?" I asked hoping to get an answer from Lauren.
"Just gum, Dad." Wyatt answered.
"What difference does it make?" Lauren asked.
"Well, if it is a Chick-let type of gum, it would be small and could really get up there. But if it is a big piece of Bubble Yum, or something I should be able to see it."
I called Jackson over, leaned him backwards over my lap, and looked up his nose. I could see a very small white blob of snotty gum jammed way up into his right nostril. I was afraid that the gum might make its way through the nasal passage and to his throat, which could cause him to choke. It looked bad and I knew we needed to get it out.
The football game, the chips, the beer and the laying on the couch would have to wait.
The gum was lodged too far up for his fingers to be able to reach it. We made many failed attempts at trying get him to blow his nose. I tried snatch it a few times with a standard pair of tweezers but between fidgeting, screams and tears I could not get the gum out.
Our neighbor, Lisa, is a nurse (I like to think of her as Jackson's personal ER consultant) Lauren called Lisa to see if she had a larger/longer pair of tweezers. Lisa did not have larger tweezers but she came down to take a look up Jackson's nose. She agreed that the gum needed to be extracted. Lisa called Amy, who is also a nurse, to see if she had larger tweezers. Amy did not have the tweezers but she was in the area and so she stopped by to look up Jackson's nose. Everyone agreed that Jackson would need to go to the ER to have the gum removed.
The football game was already half over. After looking up Jackson's nose so many times the chips and beer lost their appeal. Laying on the couch would have to wait.
Lisa agreed to take the older boys to her house so Lauren and I could take Jack to the ER.
We got into the car and started the 20 minute drive to the hospital. I was feeling kind of annoyed at the whole situation. Gum up the nose is not a priority in a hospital. I knew, that even on a slow day we would be waiting for a really long time. I also knew that they would probably have to strap Jackson down, a scenario I did not want to witness, so they could get gum out.
I looked into the rear view mirror at Jackson who was feeling a bit frightened at the idea of going to the hospital. He looked worn out. Lauren was upset with the whole ordeal. I started talking to both Jackson and Lauren hoping to take every ones mind off of the ER visit, besides I needed to vent a bit.
"Jack, this is why you do not put gum in your nose. We now have to take you to the hospital. Hon, you should make sure we have our insurance card. They won't hurt you Jax, but it will be scary. Are you going to put gum up you nose again? Are you? I know you didn't mean to get the gum stuck but if you don't put it there in the first place, it will never get stuck. Do we have enough money in the checking account for the co-pay? I think the co-pay is a 100 bucks. Jackson, one small piece of gum is going to cost me at least a hundred dollars. Do you know how many trains a hundred dollars could buy? I can't believe a stupid piece of gum is going to cost us 100 bucks. That's a lot of trains. You know Jax, if you could get that gum out of your nose before we get to the hospital I would give you money to a buy a train. I won't give him a a hundred dollars but I would sure as hell buy him a train. We could go right to the toy store right now if that gum comes out."
"A Thomas train?" Jackson asked. He suddenly perked up.
"What ever train you want pal."
What happened in the back seat is kind of hard to describe. There was grunting, snorting, hocking, huffing, puffing, sniffing, slurping, blowing and all kinds of other noises. Lauren and I could not believe he was working so hard at getting the gum out. I pulled the car over so Lauren could get in the back seat to help him. She held his unobstructed nostril as Jack blew. Within a minute or two a long piece of snot covered chewing gum was dangling from his nose. Lauren, with only a deft move a mother could pull off, used her nails to remove the rest of the gum.
We cheered. We clapped and congratulated Jackson. Yes, we cheered for a three-year-old's ability to blow gum out of his nose.
We went directly to the toy store and bought a Thomas train as trophy for his accomplishment.
She was returning home from, what was clear to me, a frustrating trip to the store with the three boys. I have a sixth sense for these things. I can sense, well it is not really sense but more of just know, that anytime you try to take three boys to a store it will be frustrating. I also can tell the level of frustration based on how Lauren enters the house. When the first words out of her mouth are one of the kid's names or the phrase "You will not believe what THIS one did" it usually is not a good trip.
"Did you get it out?" I asked from my reclined spot on the couch. I lowered the volume of the football game that was on the TV. My Sunday afternoon plans were to lay on the couch, eat chips, drink a couple of beers and watch football.
"No. I was driving when he did it." She said. "He says it came out and he swallowed it."
Wyatt bounded into the room. "Dad, Jackson put gum up his nose."
"I told him not to do it." Max said as he followed Wyatt.
"I heard. What kind on gum was it?" I asked hoping to get an answer from Lauren.
"Just gum, Dad." Wyatt answered.
"What difference does it make?" Lauren asked.
"Well, if it is a Chick-let type of gum, it would be small and could really get up there. But if it is a big piece of Bubble Yum, or something I should be able to see it."
I called Jackson over, leaned him backwards over my lap, and looked up his nose. I could see a very small white blob of snotty gum jammed way up into his right nostril. I was afraid that the gum might make its way through the nasal passage and to his throat, which could cause him to choke. It looked bad and I knew we needed to get it out.
The football game, the chips, the beer and the laying on the couch would have to wait.
The gum was lodged too far up for his fingers to be able to reach it. We made many failed attempts at trying get him to blow his nose. I tried snatch it a few times with a standard pair of tweezers but between fidgeting, screams and tears I could not get the gum out.
Our neighbor, Lisa, is a nurse (I like to think of her as Jackson's personal ER consultant) Lauren called Lisa to see if she had a larger/longer pair of tweezers. Lisa did not have larger tweezers but she came down to take a look up Jackson's nose. She agreed that the gum needed to be extracted. Lisa called Amy, who is also a nurse, to see if she had larger tweezers. Amy did not have the tweezers but she was in the area and so she stopped by to look up Jackson's nose. Everyone agreed that Jackson would need to go to the ER to have the gum removed.
The football game was already half over. After looking up Jackson's nose so many times the chips and beer lost their appeal. Laying on the couch would have to wait.
Lisa agreed to take the older boys to her house so Lauren and I could take Jack to the ER.
We got into the car and started the 20 minute drive to the hospital. I was feeling kind of annoyed at the whole situation. Gum up the nose is not a priority in a hospital. I knew, that even on a slow day we would be waiting for a really long time. I also knew that they would probably have to strap Jackson down, a scenario I did not want to witness, so they could get gum out.
I looked into the rear view mirror at Jackson who was feeling a bit frightened at the idea of going to the hospital. He looked worn out. Lauren was upset with the whole ordeal. I started talking to both Jackson and Lauren hoping to take every ones mind off of the ER visit, besides I needed to vent a bit.
"Jack, this is why you do not put gum in your nose. We now have to take you to the hospital. Hon, you should make sure we have our insurance card. They won't hurt you Jax, but it will be scary. Are you going to put gum up you nose again? Are you? I know you didn't mean to get the gum stuck but if you don't put it there in the first place, it will never get stuck. Do we have enough money in the checking account for the co-pay? I think the co-pay is a 100 bucks. Jackson, one small piece of gum is going to cost me at least a hundred dollars. Do you know how many trains a hundred dollars could buy? I can't believe a stupid piece of gum is going to cost us 100 bucks. That's a lot of trains. You know Jax, if you could get that gum out of your nose before we get to the hospital I would give you money to a buy a train. I won't give him a a hundred dollars but I would sure as hell buy him a train. We could go right to the toy store right now if that gum comes out."
"A Thomas train?" Jackson asked. He suddenly perked up.
"What ever train you want pal."
What happened in the back seat is kind of hard to describe. There was grunting, snorting, hocking, huffing, puffing, sniffing, slurping, blowing and all kinds of other noises. Lauren and I could not believe he was working so hard at getting the gum out. I pulled the car over so Lauren could get in the back seat to help him. She held his unobstructed nostril as Jack blew. Within a minute or two a long piece of snot covered chewing gum was dangling from his nose. Lauren, with only a deft move a mother could pull off, used her nails to remove the rest of the gum.
We cheered. We clapped and congratulated Jackson. Yes, we cheered for a three-year-old's ability to blow gum out of his nose.
We went directly to the toy store and bought a Thomas train as trophy for his accomplishment.
Wednesday, November 07, 2012
Last Time I Cried
Over the past 10 years I can remember crying in public on only a few occasions. One of those occasions was when I built a paver patio at our first house. At that time I promised myself I would never take on another project like that.
I don't know if it is:
A. the passage of time or,
B. the attractiveness of my wife or,
C. my stupidity,
that makes me forget these promises, but somehow Lauren convinced me that we should build a slate patio.
Lauren dug out the approximate area she wanted to cover. with the slate.
We ordered the slate/flagstone from The Flower Station. They were nice enough to place the stone close to the work area.
We dug some more. We had to level the area to prep for the five yards of modified gravel needed for the foundation.
The last time I built a patio, it was during this phase that I had my breakdown. I pushed through it this time. We centered the foundation for the fire pit the best that we could and started the process of placing the stones.
Placing the stones was like putting together a puzzle. This proved to be the most challenging part. The stones are heavy and awkward to lift. There was lots of moving of the same pieces over and over again to make it all fit.
The Patio/Fire Pit turned out looking pretty good.
The kids like it, I like it, and Lauren loves it.
And this picture makes me realize the answer is B.
I don't know if it is:
A. the passage of time or,
B. the attractiveness of my wife or,
C. my stupidity,
that makes me forget these promises, but somehow Lauren convinced me that we should build a slate patio.
Lauren dug out the approximate area she wanted to cover. with the slate.
Tuesday, September 04, 2012
Life is good
It has been a while since I posted here on the blog. Some day I hope to get back to writing on a more regular basis.
We had a very busy, very fun summer.
Life is good.
We had a very busy, very fun summer.
Life is good.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Milton Wright
While on vacation in the Outer Banks of North Carolina we took the three boys to the Wright Brothers Museum and National Park. My family met my brother Jim and his family at the field where Orville and Wilbur Wright, also brothers, made history by flying the world's first flying machine. I was overcome with inspiration and awe, standing there knowing that two brothers over a hundred years before did something so significant and monumental in that very spot.
I wanted my kids, three brothers, to remember this day, and possibly look back at it as a day they too were inspired to do great things. During the visit a park ranger handed out kites for kids to fly in that very same historic spot.
Some historians claim that the Wright Brothers developed an interest in aviation when their father, Milton, brought them a gift of a toy Peanud helicopter.
There were about 75 people out on that historic field as the ranger handed out the kites. There wer not enough kites to go around to every person. My sons, Wyatt and Jackson had to share. It took them all of three minutes to start arguing. A few moments later Jackson punched Wyatt in the belly. Wyatt punched back. Soon they were in a a knock-down-drag-out wrestling match. I struggled to break them up and maintain an airborne kite at the same time. I sighed, a deep sigh that got lost in the winds of that field. I felt a touch of sympathy for Milton Wright, Orville and Wilbur's father, who gave his sons a toy that inspired them to want to learn to fly. Milton Wright probably does not get the credit he deserves for breaking up the fights between thoes brothers over that toy.
I used to be inspired by heroes like the Wright Brothers. Now I think I can relate more to Milton.
In Brad Meltzer's book Heroes For My Son, Brad writes "Every day, they knew they'd fail. Every time they'd go out to fly--every time--they brought extra material because they knew their fledgling design would crash. Crash and rebuild. Crash and rebuild. But never, ever give up."
That was written about Orville and Wilbur, I think the same could be said for Milton.
----------------------------------------------------------
After the the WWF match at Kitty Hawk we drove down to Jockey's Ridge State Park to check out the Eastern seaboard's largest sand dune. Again we met my brother Jim and his family. The dunes are a spectacular sight. Standing on the lookout, viewing the 400 plus acres of "living dunes", I was again feeling inspired.
On one of the hottest days of the year my family and my brother Jim's family climbed to the peak of the ridge.
I had overheard some people at the base of the dunes say that people could Boogie Board down the steep sides, kind of like sledding in sand. I thought about the Wright Brothers. I thought about inspiration. I thought about Brad Meltzer's words. I carried the Boogies Boards.
My brother Jim went first. He face-planted in seconds. Learning from my brother's mistake, I took a different approach and tried to push Maxfield down the large sandy hill. I too face-planted pretty quickly, Max fell and went nowhere.
I thought about Meltzer's words again. Hot, sunburned, sweaty and covered in sand, after those two attempts, we gave up. I am more of a Milton myself.
The last two photos are courtesy of my sister in law Shannon. Used with permisssion.
Some historians claim that the Wright Brothers developed an interest in aviation when their father, Milton, brought them a gift of a toy Peanud helicopter.
There were about 75 people out on that historic field as the ranger handed out the kites. There wer not enough kites to go around to every person. My sons, Wyatt and Jackson had to share. It took them all of three minutes to start arguing. A few moments later Jackson punched Wyatt in the belly. Wyatt punched back. Soon they were in a a knock-down-drag-out wrestling match. I struggled to break them up and maintain an airborne kite at the same time. I sighed, a deep sigh that got lost in the winds of that field. I felt a touch of sympathy for Milton Wright, Orville and Wilbur's father, who gave his sons a toy that inspired them to want to learn to fly. Milton Wright probably does not get the credit he deserves for breaking up the fights between thoes brothers over that toy.
I used to be inspired by heroes like the Wright Brothers. Now I think I can relate more to Milton.
In Brad Meltzer's book Heroes For My Son, Brad writes "Every day, they knew they'd fail. Every time they'd go out to fly--every time--they brought extra material because they knew their fledgling design would crash. Crash and rebuild. Crash and rebuild. But never, ever give up."
That was written about Orville and Wilbur, I think the same could be said for Milton.
----------------------------------------------------------
After the the WWF match at Kitty Hawk we drove down to Jockey's Ridge State Park to check out the Eastern seaboard's largest sand dune. Again we met my brother Jim and his family. The dunes are a spectacular sight. Standing on the lookout, viewing the 400 plus acres of "living dunes", I was again feeling inspired.
My brother Jim went first. He face-planted in seconds. Learning from my brother's mistake, I took a different approach and tried to push Maxfield down the large sandy hill. I too face-planted pretty quickly, Max fell and went nowhere.
The last two photos are courtesy of my sister in law Shannon. Used with permisssion.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Nice Try
"Nice try." Rob said as pushed his empty plate forward and leaned back in his chair away from the table. A look of satisfaction eased onto his face.
"Thanks." Bob replied through a fork full of pasta.
Rob burped loud and long.
"I'll do the dishes." I said, standing up from the table.
"Bill, leave the pots and pans for me." Rob said.
Bob had just prepared and cooked the best meal we three young roommates had eaten in a very long while. We were all in our early twenties living in an apartment above a house. Most of our meals consisted of Spaghettios, pizza or bar food. Occasionally Bob, who raised as a latchkey kid learned to cook at an early age, would make dinner for the three of us. That night he made the best tasting Chicken and Broccoli Alfredo I have ever had.
"Nice try Bob, nice try." Rob said again smiling.
Bob was not offended. He knew that Rob's "nice try" was of the highest compliments he could receive. "Nice try" was Rob's funny way of saying excellent or perfect, while keeping you humble.
Not too long ago I started to use the "nice try" phrase with Lauren. Lauren in return also started using it with me. It is our little inside joke way of saying "good job". Sometimes, like any inside joke, it is misunderstood by other people who might hear us say it. We sometimes get funny looks but we know what it means.
Tomorrow marks 10 years of being married to Lauren. When I married her it was a Nice Try. The past 10 years have been a Nice Try. I hope the next 10, 20, 30 years will be a Nice Try.
"Thanks." Bob replied through a fork full of pasta.
Rob burped loud and long.
"I'll do the dishes." I said, standing up from the table.
"Bill, leave the pots and pans for me." Rob said.
Bob had just prepared and cooked the best meal we three young roommates had eaten in a very long while. We were all in our early twenties living in an apartment above a house. Most of our meals consisted of Spaghettios, pizza or bar food. Occasionally Bob, who raised as a latchkey kid learned to cook at an early age, would make dinner for the three of us. That night he made the best tasting Chicken and Broccoli Alfredo I have ever had.
"Nice try Bob, nice try." Rob said again smiling.
Bob was not offended. He knew that Rob's "nice try" was of the highest compliments he could receive. "Nice try" was Rob's funny way of saying excellent or perfect, while keeping you humble.
Not too long ago I started to use the "nice try" phrase with Lauren. Lauren in return also started using it with me. It is our little inside joke way of saying "good job". Sometimes, like any inside joke, it is misunderstood by other people who might hear us say it. We sometimes get funny looks but we know what it means.
Tomorrow marks 10 years of being married to Lauren. When I married her it was a Nice Try. The past 10 years have been a Nice Try. I hope the next 10, 20, 30 years will be a Nice Try.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
15 Years Ago
I am always fascinated by the stories of how couples met. Was it chance? Were they set up? Was it love at first sight? Was it a Sliding Doors type of situation, where if the slightest smallest thing would have changed would they have never met?
I think about it all the time with the night I met my wife.
June 28th 1997.
I just got finished performing in a community theater presentation of Much Ado About Nothing. It was closing night and the cast was going out for a few drinks and some snacks to celebrate. Everybody (about 12 people) decided to go to an UNO Chicago Bar and Grill. We decided on this place because there were a few younger kids with our group.
I was working in a nightclub in downtown Philadelphia and knew I would have to get to work around Midnight. I arrived at UNO around 10:00, before the rest of the cast, so I could place my food order, have it served, eat it and get out of there by 11:30 so I could make it to work. I sat at the bar and ordered Pizza Skins and a club soda. The rest of the cast was trickling in and were taking seats at a large table next to the bar. I knew I was not hanging for the night so it was easier for me to stay at the bar and socialize there. I watched the bartender take orders for all the people at the table (since it was his section). Someone at the table ordered Pizza Skins.
One of the cast, PJ, sat with me at the bar and we were talking about the show and I can’t remember what else when a waitress came out with an order of Pizza Skins. “Who ordered Pizza Skins?’ she asked.
Someone at the table responded and the waitress placed it at the table, with no other food for the rest of the cast.
I turned to the bartender, “I think those were for me.” I said.
The bartender looked up and said something about they would have a runner bring up my food.
“But don’t you think the waitress would have brought out the rest of the food for that table? Besides I ordered mine about 15 minutes before everyone else.”
“Good point. She is not the waitress," said the barkeep referring to the woman who dropped of the food. "She is the manager.”
“Listen” I said, “I have to go to work in a little bit why don’t you just cancel my order.”
The bartender agreed but needed the manager’s approval to void the guest check. The manager/waitress asked me if everything was okay and I explained the situation to her. She insisted that she could have my food to me in 5 minutes and there was no need to cancel the Pizza Skins.
“As a matter fact they are in the oven right now." she assured me.
At some point during this exchange another waitress came to the bar area and started to change one of the “Tonight’s Special" signs. She had her back to me but she was on her tippy toes, reaching up to write on the slate board. She was wearing a tucked in, denim blue collared shirt and perfectly fitted black pants. She was holding her apron in her hand so I knew she was just getting off her shift. The slate board was black, with an impressive chalk/pastel drawing around the border of a mug of beer and a slice of pizza. There was also a Killian’s Red logo on or near the chalkboard. I know all the details because I was staring.
The manager left and I could not stop myself from staring at the waitress writing on the board.
PJ, sitting next to me, nudges me with his elbow and gives me the Man-to-Man, silent, raised eyebrows, head nod, secret guy code that is not so secret, that indicates “She’s hot”.
I called her over. “Excuse me, I was wondering if you could check on an order of Pizza Skins for me.”
She smiled, and said something that I didn’t hear because I was captivated by her eyes, which were smiling as well. She left.
I turned to PJ and said something about her body, her looks, and her smile.
She returned and told me that there were no orders of Pizza Skins in the oven. I asked the bartender to cancel my order, which again needed the manager’s approval. The manager came over to ensure me the food would be out soon. I told her that the nice hot waitress (I didn’t say “hot” but that is what I was thinking) told me that they weren’t in the oven. The manager looked peeved. I realized I may have gotten the hot waitress in trouble and I explained to the manger that I also managed a club and that I knew that manager’s don’t always tell the truth to customers. The UNO manager was not happy.
The Hot waitress came back into the bar area. I felt bad and I informed her that I may have gotten her into trouble. She explained that it was okay. At some point here PJ became the perfect wingman by not making me look like an idiot. The hot waitress and I talked about the beer mug drawing on the chalkboard. She was the artist. I was impressed and told her so.
She walked away to get her things as she was done her shift for the night. PJ and I talked about whether I should ask her out. She was hot, talented and seemed to have a good personality. She had to have a boyfriend. PJ insisted that I at least check.
The hot waitress came back. I started talking to her about nothing really. I told her that since she was done her shift she should come down to the club I managed. I handed her my business card.
She looked at it. "Bill Meakim? Are you related to Mike Meakim?” She asked.
“Yes. He’s my brother?”
“I went to school with him. “
In the back of my mind I was hoping that Mike was nice to her in high school.
Since she was an artist and I took art classes in high school we talked about the teachers and the school. We knew the same teachers. It was good conversation. Familiar.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Lauren.”
“Well, Lauren, why don’t you come down to the club tonight?”
“I can’t. I’m tired and it is all the way in the city.”
“Okay.” I said. “Well maybe you and I could go out sometime.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know.”
This is where the begging started. I started babbling. “Look let me pick you up for lunch tomorrow. Or you can me meet for a cup of coffee somewhere. I can meet you here. Or wherever you like. Where do you live? We can meet somewhere close to where you live so it is convenient for you.”
Lauren rolled her beautiful eyes, “I live in Abington.”
“So do I." I said matter of factly. "Where in Abington? So we can pick a place to meet.” I added so I would not sound creepy.
Lauren said, “I live on Horace.”
“Get out!” I shouted. “I Live on Horace too.”
She got a freaked out look on her face. Like I was a stalker. Horace Ave. is only two blocks long. How was it possible that we could both live on the same street? She must have said something like “No way” or “That’s strange”. I knew fate was on my side.
“I live at 1847. Right on the corner.” I said.
Lauren looked at me in disbelief and muttered, “I live at 1828.”
I was quite excited. There were too many random, strange coincidences to pass this up.
My mouth was going a mile a minute, “That’s like 5 houses down. How come I’ve never seen you before? Look you can’t say “NO” at this point. I know where you live. Let me pick you up for lunch. I will WALK down and pick you up for lunch. It is only lunch. If you don’t like me or I don’t like you it doesn’t go any further than that. Just lunch. Look, I am not crazy. You know my brother. Just lunch. I am picking you up tomorrow.”
“Okay” she said. “What time?”
And that is the story of how I met my wife. Sometime during our talk my Pizza Skins came out and I ate, maybe, two pieces.
I was also late for work.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
I always think about that night the smallest of things that night.
What if my Pizza Skins were delivered to me on time? What if PJ did not sit next to me? What if the manager voided my check the first time? What if Lauren just left without stopping back? What if she said no to the date?
15 Years Ago.
I think about it all the time with the night I met my wife.
June 28th 1997.
I just got finished performing in a community theater presentation of Much Ado About Nothing. It was closing night and the cast was going out for a few drinks and some snacks to celebrate. Everybody (about 12 people) decided to go to an UNO Chicago Bar and Grill. We decided on this place because there were a few younger kids with our group.
I was working in a nightclub in downtown Philadelphia and knew I would have to get to work around Midnight. I arrived at UNO around 10:00, before the rest of the cast, so I could place my food order, have it served, eat it and get out of there by 11:30 so I could make it to work. I sat at the bar and ordered Pizza Skins and a club soda. The rest of the cast was trickling in and were taking seats at a large table next to the bar. I knew I was not hanging for the night so it was easier for me to stay at the bar and socialize there. I watched the bartender take orders for all the people at the table (since it was his section). Someone at the table ordered Pizza Skins.
One of the cast, PJ, sat with me at the bar and we were talking about the show and I can’t remember what else when a waitress came out with an order of Pizza Skins. “Who ordered Pizza Skins?’ she asked.
Someone at the table responded and the waitress placed it at the table, with no other food for the rest of the cast.
I turned to the bartender, “I think those were for me.” I said.
The bartender looked up and said something about they would have a runner bring up my food.
“But don’t you think the waitress would have brought out the rest of the food for that table? Besides I ordered mine about 15 minutes before everyone else.”
“Good point. She is not the waitress," said the barkeep referring to the woman who dropped of the food. "She is the manager.”
“Listen” I said, “I have to go to work in a little bit why don’t you just cancel my order.”
The bartender agreed but needed the manager’s approval to void the guest check. The manager/waitress asked me if everything was okay and I explained the situation to her. She insisted that she could have my food to me in 5 minutes and there was no need to cancel the Pizza Skins.
“As a matter fact they are in the oven right now." she assured me.
At some point during this exchange another waitress came to the bar area and started to change one of the “Tonight’s Special" signs. She had her back to me but she was on her tippy toes, reaching up to write on the slate board. She was wearing a tucked in, denim blue collared shirt and perfectly fitted black pants. She was holding her apron in her hand so I knew she was just getting off her shift. The slate board was black, with an impressive chalk/pastel drawing around the border of a mug of beer and a slice of pizza. There was also a Killian’s Red logo on or near the chalkboard. I know all the details because I was staring.
The manager left and I could not stop myself from staring at the waitress writing on the board.
PJ, sitting next to me, nudges me with his elbow and gives me the Man-to-Man, silent, raised eyebrows, head nod, secret guy code that is not so secret, that indicates “She’s hot”.
I called her over. “Excuse me, I was wondering if you could check on an order of Pizza Skins for me.”
She smiled, and said something that I didn’t hear because I was captivated by her eyes, which were smiling as well. She left.
I turned to PJ and said something about her body, her looks, and her smile.
She returned and told me that there were no orders of Pizza Skins in the oven. I asked the bartender to cancel my order, which again needed the manager’s approval. The manager came over to ensure me the food would be out soon. I told her that the nice hot waitress (I didn’t say “hot” but that is what I was thinking) told me that they weren’t in the oven. The manager looked peeved. I realized I may have gotten the hot waitress in trouble and I explained to the manger that I also managed a club and that I knew that manager’s don’t always tell the truth to customers. The UNO manager was not happy.
The Hot waitress came back into the bar area. I felt bad and I informed her that I may have gotten her into trouble. She explained that it was okay. At some point here PJ became the perfect wingman by not making me look like an idiot. The hot waitress and I talked about the beer mug drawing on the chalkboard. She was the artist. I was impressed and told her so.
She walked away to get her things as she was done her shift for the night. PJ and I talked about whether I should ask her out. She was hot, talented and seemed to have a good personality. She had to have a boyfriend. PJ insisted that I at least check.
The hot waitress came back. I started talking to her about nothing really. I told her that since she was done her shift she should come down to the club I managed. I handed her my business card.
She looked at it. "Bill Meakim? Are you related to Mike Meakim?” She asked.
“Yes. He’s my brother?”
“I went to school with him. “
In the back of my mind I was hoping that Mike was nice to her in high school.
Since she was an artist and I took art classes in high school we talked about the teachers and the school. We knew the same teachers. It was good conversation. Familiar.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Lauren.”
“Well, Lauren, why don’t you come down to the club tonight?”
“I can’t. I’m tired and it is all the way in the city.”
“Okay.” I said. “Well maybe you and I could go out sometime.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know.”
This is where the begging started. I started babbling. “Look let me pick you up for lunch tomorrow. Or you can me meet for a cup of coffee somewhere. I can meet you here. Or wherever you like. Where do you live? We can meet somewhere close to where you live so it is convenient for you.”
Lauren rolled her beautiful eyes, “I live in Abington.”
“So do I." I said matter of factly. "Where in Abington? So we can pick a place to meet.” I added so I would not sound creepy.
Lauren said, “I live on Horace.”
“Get out!” I shouted. “I Live on Horace too.”
She got a freaked out look on her face. Like I was a stalker. Horace Ave. is only two blocks long. How was it possible that we could both live on the same street? She must have said something like “No way” or “That’s strange”. I knew fate was on my side.
“I live at 1847. Right on the corner.” I said.
Lauren looked at me in disbelief and muttered, “I live at 1828.”
I was quite excited. There were too many random, strange coincidences to pass this up.
My mouth was going a mile a minute, “That’s like 5 houses down. How come I’ve never seen you before? Look you can’t say “NO” at this point. I know where you live. Let me pick you up for lunch. I will WALK down and pick you up for lunch. It is only lunch. If you don’t like me or I don’t like you it doesn’t go any further than that. Just lunch. Look, I am not crazy. You know my brother. Just lunch. I am picking you up tomorrow.”
“Okay” she said. “What time?”
And that is the story of how I met my wife. Sometime during our talk my Pizza Skins came out and I ate, maybe, two pieces.
I was also late for work.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
I always think about that night the smallest of things that night.
What if my Pizza Skins were delivered to me on time? What if PJ did not sit next to me? What if the manager voided my check the first time? What if Lauren just left without stopping back? What if she said no to the date?
15 Years Ago.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Parenting in Public
Even after 8 years I find Parenting in Public (PIP) to be one of the most trickiest aspects of raising children. Lets face it, we parents know (even though we are not supposed to) that we judge other parents. We also know that other parents are constantly judging us. Most of the time I can takes the stares, the head shaking and the "tsk-ing tsk-ing" of other parents in stride. Sometimes I think the judges out there keep some parents in check, which is a good thing. But I am fairly confident in my parenting that I do my best to make sure the judges do not affect the way I handle myself with my kids. I believe kids know parents get embarrassed and they try to exploit this weakness to get their way. Kids know other parents are judging. I try not to get embarrassed by tantrums and other public displays of meltdowns. I try my best not to give in.
I try.
The other evening I took the three boys to the swim club pool in an effort to give Lauren some peace and quiet as well as to wear out the kids before bedtime. My plan seemed to be working until it was time to leave. I instructed each of the boys to go to the showers, rinse off and get into their summer time pajamas, which is basically shorts and a T-shirt. They argued with me from the shallow end of the pool, the 30 foot walk to the grassy area where our towels and bag were, back around the pool past two lifeguard stands, across the 50 feet of deck, past the pool office and into the boys changing room. There was a cacophony* of whining, bickering, moaning and bellyaching the entire way. I was clearly frustrated during this walk and may have barked a few orders at the kids while trying to avoid any real parenting in public.
After 5 minutes of arguing over who got to use which shower and then complaining about why so and so got to use the striped towel "which was not fair because he got the striped towel last time and no one likes the towel with the seahorses and Jackson sticking his tongue out at me and I don't know why we need to leave yet the sun is still out which is not fair and Wyatt hit me with his towel and Max is shaking his butt at me and Jackson gets to wear the Batman shirt which is not fair because it is my Batman shirt even though it does not fit me anymore and it is not fair", I lost my mind.
We were the only people in the changing room and I did not feel the Parenting in Public stress nor the judging eyes. The changing room at the swim club is a small cinder block structure with a raised roof. Wrapping the building, between the top of the walls and ceiling, are sections of 2 to 3 foot screening vents. The venting provides ample circulation to avoid mold issues in the damp environment. I forgot about the venting when I lost my mind.
Through gritted teeth I started with my parental tirade."I have had enough of the bickering. Quit your bellyaching and put on your clothes...stop shaking your but....I swear to you if you shake your penis at your brother one more...do not snap the towel at him...get over here so I can put this...God help me...no God help you if you snap that towel one more...stop running in circles...I will never take you here again..."
I was getting louder and louder with each word until I was at a full on yell.
"I am not going to tolerate this behavior one more...Jackson get your heinie over here...both of you sit down right now..Jesus, Mary and Joseph...I am going to...knock. It. Off." I realized at that moment my voice bouncing off the cinder walls and out to the pool area.
I heard someone enter the changing room.
Just at that moment Jackson slipped in a puddle on the floor and banged his head. He started crying.
The person who entered the changing room turned the corner. It was a life guard.
"Everything okay in here?" he asked raising his eyebrows.
"Yes. He just slipped. He is fine." I said.
He looked over at Max and Wyatt who were both half naked shaking their butts at each other. There were clothes strewn all over the place. The life guard rolled his eyes and gave me the slightest bit of a judgemental head shake.
I hung my head and sighed. The kids won this round.
*Cacophony is one of my favorite words from Mrs. Dunn's, my High school English teacher, word of the day.
I try.
The other evening I took the three boys to the swim club pool in an effort to give Lauren some peace and quiet as well as to wear out the kids before bedtime. My plan seemed to be working until it was time to leave. I instructed each of the boys to go to the showers, rinse off and get into their summer time pajamas, which is basically shorts and a T-shirt. They argued with me from the shallow end of the pool, the 30 foot walk to the grassy area where our towels and bag were, back around the pool past two lifeguard stands, across the 50 feet of deck, past the pool office and into the boys changing room. There was a cacophony* of whining, bickering, moaning and bellyaching the entire way. I was clearly frustrated during this walk and may have barked a few orders at the kids while trying to avoid any real parenting in public.
After 5 minutes of arguing over who got to use which shower and then complaining about why so and so got to use the striped towel "which was not fair because he got the striped towel last time and no one likes the towel with the seahorses and Jackson sticking his tongue out at me and I don't know why we need to leave yet the sun is still out which is not fair and Wyatt hit me with his towel and Max is shaking his butt at me and Jackson gets to wear the Batman shirt which is not fair because it is my Batman shirt even though it does not fit me anymore and it is not fair", I lost my mind.
We were the only people in the changing room and I did not feel the Parenting in Public stress nor the judging eyes. The changing room at the swim club is a small cinder block structure with a raised roof. Wrapping the building, between the top of the walls and ceiling, are sections of 2 to 3 foot screening vents. The venting provides ample circulation to avoid mold issues in the damp environment. I forgot about the venting when I lost my mind.
Through gritted teeth I started with my parental tirade."I have had enough of the bickering. Quit your bellyaching and put on your clothes...stop shaking your but....I swear to you if you shake your penis at your brother one more...do not snap the towel at him...get over here so I can put this...God help me...no God help you if you snap that towel one more...stop running in circles...I will never take you here again..."
I was getting louder and louder with each word until I was at a full on yell.
"I am not going to tolerate this behavior one more...Jackson get your heinie over here...both of you sit down right now..Jesus, Mary and Joseph...I am going to...knock. It. Off." I realized at that moment my voice bouncing off the cinder walls and out to the pool area.
I heard someone enter the changing room.
Just at that moment Jackson slipped in a puddle on the floor and banged his head. He started crying.
The person who entered the changing room turned the corner. It was a life guard.
"Everything okay in here?" he asked raising his eyebrows.
"Yes. He just slipped. He is fine." I said.
He looked over at Max and Wyatt who were both half naked shaking their butts at each other. There were clothes strewn all over the place. The life guard rolled his eyes and gave me the slightest bit of a judgemental head shake.
I hung my head and sighed. The kids won this round.
*Cacophony is one of my favorite words from Mrs. Dunn's, my High school English teacher, word of the day.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Wyatt 6
My middle child, middle boy, turned six today. Wyatt is my first kid born when I had a blog. Max my oldest was born a year before I started blogging. The picture below of Wyatt Blue received a ton of feedback on the blog. I asked Wyatt to recreate the photo. He was not happy about it.
Wyatt makes me laugh every day.
Friday, June 01, 2012
Reverse Bucket List
I have read, though blogs or Facebook, many people's Bucket List, you know the list of things people want to do before they die. I have never considered creating a Bucket list of things I want to do. I don't know why I just never have. But I do have a list of people I want to meet before they die. Kind of like a reverse Bucket List. Some these people on this list I have already met but only briefly. My reverse Bucket List consists of people who, due to the influence they have had in my life or who I have only met in the Internet world, I would like to meet and have a conversation with over dinner. A dinner of a Bucket of beers and Bucket of wings. In no particular order these are the people on my Bucket List.
April and Brandon Richter. They have not really had any serious influence on my life but I met them (April really) through blogging. April always used to leave funny and positive comments here and her posts at her blog were always fun. April and Brandon recently started a business venture call Mischief Brewing Co. I have been following their story on Facebook. They have a Kickstarter Program going to raise some of the initial capital they need. It takes guts to do what they are doing. I wish them luck and I hope one day I can drink one of their beers with them.
Neil Gaiman. I actually met Neil at a comic convention back in the early 90's. I was standing with a comic shop owner that had a VIP pass to a special signing meet and greet. I was kind of ushered into a back room with another group of VIP people. Neil was ushered in through another door and started shaking every one's hands. He muttered a "hello" and I muttered a "I love your work" when someone realized I did not have a VIP pass. I was quickly ushered out of the room. Neil Gaiman, as a comic book writer, was one of the first people to make me feel less like a geek for reading comics. I would have to say that his comic book work lead me to his novels which got me reading books. Neil Gaiman's blog is also one of the first blogs I ever read and it influenced me to start blogging. I would love to be able to meet him over a few drinks or dinner and just talk. Check out his commencement speech at the University of the Arts. It is almost impossible to not like him.
Michael Smerconish-He is now a nationally syndicated radio talk show host but I started listening to him when he was just a local Philly guy. Unlike other talk show radio hosts Smerconish is just right of center on the political spectrum. He does not tow any party line. He presents interesting stories with a focus on facts and offers his opinion not based on political ideology but more on his gut instincts. He has written a half dozen books on various topics with the same approach to his radio show. He has changed the way I view politics, the government as well as the media. I met Michael once at a book signing which I wrote about here , again me just mumbling something. I would like to hang out with Smerconish at a Phillies games with a couple of beers and shoot the breeze.
Nils Ling-Here is a person I met only through the blogger/Internet thing that I would love to meet in person. Even though he is Canadian (Inconceivable) Nils is one of the most clever and wittiest people. He is a writer, a performer, a musician, an actor and has an attitude that I would love to have when I grow up. His style of writing on his blog Truths and Half Truths influenced the way I wrote and still write on my blog. I crossed paths with Nils through various blogs and their comments section including...
Susie's What Was I Thinking. Susie is also on my Bucket List. During the blog explosion of 2005 and 2006 Susie's blog was one of my daily visits. I was living in Florida with very few real life friends that her blog became a great source of community for me. Her outlook and positive attitude also influenced the way I approached my blog writing.
Adam Duritz If there was a soundtrack to my life in the early 90s it would have all been done by the Counting Crows. When I think back to that time as I entered adulthood, the people I hung out with, the jobs I had, the decisions I made, the Counting Crows were always in the background. The albums August and Everything After, Recovering the Satellites and This Desert Life (The cover of Desert Life is also the cover of a Neil Gaiman book, how is that for a weird coincidence?) are so ingrained in my psyche that if I hear a song from them I cannot help but be transported to a certain time or situation. I would want to have dinner with Duritz just to see what makes him tick.
Michael Keaton. He was Batman. He was Beetlejuice. He was Billy Blazejowski. He was Hunt Stevenson, He was Mr. Mom. He was Dogberry. He was Johnny Dangerously. Keaton is my favorite actor of all time. Are there better actors out there? Sure. But Keaton is still my favorite. I think he is extremely talented but even more importantly to me is that he never took himself too seriously. I quote more Michael Keaton lines from his movies on a regular basis more than any other actor. If I had an acting idol it would be Keaton. If I had a chance to have dinner with him I think I would be a blubbering mess.
Amy Poehler and Tina Fey. I know lots of people have a "geek crush" on Fey but for me I would want to have dinner with these two just sit and watch them talk to each other. Two of the funniest people of television with excellent writing and improv skills. I would love to see them a bit tipsy and going at it. Hey now, I mean verbally sparring.
Who would be on your Bucket of Beer list?
April and Brandon Richter. They have not really had any serious influence on my life but I met them (April really) through blogging. April always used to leave funny and positive comments here and her posts at her blog were always fun. April and Brandon recently started a business venture call Mischief Brewing Co. I have been following their story on Facebook. They have a Kickstarter Program going to raise some of the initial capital they need. It takes guts to do what they are doing. I wish them luck and I hope one day I can drink one of their beers with them.
Neil Gaiman. I actually met Neil at a comic convention back in the early 90's. I was standing with a comic shop owner that had a VIP pass to a special signing meet and greet. I was kind of ushered into a back room with another group of VIP people. Neil was ushered in through another door and started shaking every one's hands. He muttered a "hello" and I muttered a "I love your work" when someone realized I did not have a VIP pass. I was quickly ushered out of the room. Neil Gaiman, as a comic book writer, was one of the first people to make me feel less like a geek for reading comics. I would have to say that his comic book work lead me to his novels which got me reading books. Neil Gaiman's blog is also one of the first blogs I ever read and it influenced me to start blogging. I would love to be able to meet him over a few drinks or dinner and just talk. Check out his commencement speech at the University of the Arts. It is almost impossible to not like him.
Michael Smerconish-He is now a nationally syndicated radio talk show host but I started listening to him when he was just a local Philly guy. Unlike other talk show radio hosts Smerconish is just right of center on the political spectrum. He does not tow any party line. He presents interesting stories with a focus on facts and offers his opinion not based on political ideology but more on his gut instincts. He has written a half dozen books on various topics with the same approach to his radio show. He has changed the way I view politics, the government as well as the media. I met Michael once at a book signing which I wrote about here , again me just mumbling something. I would like to hang out with Smerconish at a Phillies games with a couple of beers and shoot the breeze.
Nils Ling-Here is a person I met only through the blogger/Internet thing that I would love to meet in person. Even though he is Canadian (Inconceivable) Nils is one of the most clever and wittiest people. He is a writer, a performer, a musician, an actor and has an attitude that I would love to have when I grow up. His style of writing on his blog Truths and Half Truths influenced the way I wrote and still write on my blog. I crossed paths with Nils through various blogs and their comments section including...
Susie's What Was I Thinking. Susie is also on my Bucket List. During the blog explosion of 2005 and 2006 Susie's blog was one of my daily visits. I was living in Florida with very few real life friends that her blog became a great source of community for me. Her outlook and positive attitude also influenced the way I approached my blog writing.
Adam Duritz If there was a soundtrack to my life in the early 90s it would have all been done by the Counting Crows. When I think back to that time as I entered adulthood, the people I hung out with, the jobs I had, the decisions I made, the Counting Crows were always in the background. The albums August and Everything After, Recovering the Satellites and This Desert Life (The cover of Desert Life is also the cover of a Neil Gaiman book, how is that for a weird coincidence?) are so ingrained in my psyche that if I hear a song from them I cannot help but be transported to a certain time or situation. I would want to have dinner with Duritz just to see what makes him tick.
Michael Keaton. He was Batman. He was Beetlejuice. He was Billy Blazejowski. He was Hunt Stevenson, He was Mr. Mom. He was Dogberry. He was Johnny Dangerously. Keaton is my favorite actor of all time. Are there better actors out there? Sure. But Keaton is still my favorite. I think he is extremely talented but even more importantly to me is that he never took himself too seriously. I quote more Michael Keaton lines from his movies on a regular basis more than any other actor. If I had an acting idol it would be Keaton. If I had a chance to have dinner with him I think I would be a blubbering mess.
Amy Poehler and Tina Fey. I know lots of people have a "geek crush" on Fey but for me I would want to have dinner with these two just sit and watch them talk to each other. Two of the funniest people of television with excellent writing and improv skills. I would love to see them a bit tipsy and going at it. Hey now, I mean verbally sparring.
Who would be on your Bucket of Beer list?
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