No...I'm Not Scared....

A little over 10 years ago, I tuned in to a new show on FOX. It was called 'Beyond Beleif, Fact Or Fiction?' I used to love this show. It was hosted by Star Trek the Next Generation's Jonathan Frakes. The former number 1 of the Starship Enterprise was the perfect host. With his deep baritone voice and trusting beard, he made you as the viewer feel as though he was telling the truth when he told the stories featured in the show.

The stories that were told on the show ranged from conspiracy theories, to ghost/paranormal activity stories, out of body experiences and the like. One of my favorites featured a runaway  plane that was apparently piloted by the pilot's deceased father, who died in a plane crash. Another good one was a lady who dreamed about a house she was supposed to buy and when she went to buy it, the owner said "you're the lady that has been haunting my house for the last month."

For me, the show was always kind of a fun show to watch. A modern day Unsolved Mystories or Ripley's Beleive it or Not. It would usually recount 5 stories and at the end tell you whether or not they were true. Some of the classic lines that Frakes would say at the end were: "Is this story true? I'm afraid not!" and "So, is this story based on true events? Or is it just the work of our writers? Not this time!"

So, why am I telling you this?

Well, the show is back on TV in the form of reruns...and every single time I get sucked into it. The problem is, I'm a grown man and should not be scared of stories filmed 10 years ago with really bad acting...but somehow these stupid vignets get to me. I used to shower in the dark when I got up in the morning...now, I have to shower with the light on because of one of the shows having a personage show up in a mirror. Ugh! Also, the ghost stories freak me out...I don't want to go in my basement at times. In 10 short years, it has gone from a fun show to something that haunts me.

What the heck happened to me?

The Rise and Fall of my Tooth Brush

This is a cautionary tale about cleaning the bathroom...

It also proves that no good deed gos unpunished...

Whilst staying with my in-laws this past week, I decided to be a good son in law and clean the bathroom we were using. I got all of the cleaning supplies out and ready made that sucker shine. As I was putting the finishing touches on it and throwing away the last piece of paper towel from wiping the glass. My arm grased the back of my tooth brush, sending it into a spinning motion and flying downward at a rapid pace. Given that it had a short distance to travel, it didn't take very long, but I still reached for it loudly proclaiming....NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It finally came to rest here:

We had a good run, but no amount of cleaning could've brough my toothbrush back to life. It was gone and it was time to move on to a new one.

And now for some cheap tooth brush humor:

Did you know the tooth brush was invented in West Virginia? If it had been invented in any other state, it'd be called a teeth brush. BOOM!

The Gravy Boat

When my wife and I got married. We made a conscious, calculated decision to save some of our gift cards for the holidays so that we could spoil each other a bit without breaking the bank.

I've always tried to have a well-rounded Christmas for my wife where she gets a book, some clothes, a couple of fun things, some things she wants, and then the big surprise gift that just blows her away and makes her say..."oh wow, I was NOT expecting this. You are soooooo thoughtful, funny, cool" you get the idea.

Last year, I hit a home run. No, not the gravy boat, I'll get to that in a  minute.

Shortly before we moved, we started playing with the Super Nintendo that my parents had passed off to me when they moved out of my boyhood home. It mostly sat in a box un-played collecting dust. For some strange reason, we decided to pull it out and start playing games on it again. Mostly Mario Brothers. One of the signature games for the Super Nintendo that my family never had was Mario Kart. These days, you can find one of those games at a fairly inexpensive price on eBay. So, I found it, bought it, and gave it to her for Christmas. Home run. I pretty much expect all my gifts to be home runs. Such was the case with the gravy boat.

When we were engaged, we registered at several different places, one being Crate and Barrel in part because my office (at that time) was close to one. After the dust settled and the gifts stopped coming, we had a little bit of money left over on our Crate and Barrel gift card. So I told her I'd run over there and take a look. Before I did that, I looked at our wedding registry to see if there was anything that we didn't have that we really wanted. It popped off the page. The beautiful, white gravy boat that nobody had gotten us. How could they/we have missed such an oversight? I would not let Christmas pass with us gravy-boat less. As I stared at it in all of its $14.99 glory, I thought of my wife's reaction when she opened it on Christmas morning. The happy-surprised expression on her face would say it all. This, was a surefire home run.

Getting the gravy boat was a bit of a challenge. I had to make three separate trips to Crate and Barrel to secure the crown jewel of my wife's Christmas. On the second and third trips, I called in advance to make sure they had it and I was assured they did. Both times I came up empty, but I had someone dig one out of the back. Finally, the gravy boat was ready to come home and sit under our tree until the big day.

Christmas morning finally came. I placed the gift towards the back so that it would be one of the last things that would be opened. As the wrapping paper flew and the gifts were open, I could barely contain my excitement. Finally she got to the gravy boat. She peeled back the paper, opened the box and there it was...I could swear there was a bright light emitting from it, that's how cool I thought it was and how excited I was for her to open it. "Oh, neat," she said.

Neat?

"Yeah, you know it's from our registry, pretty cool that I remembered huh?"

"Yeah, that's nice. Okay, your turn."

Apparently, the gravy boat was not the out of the park home run I thought it would be. She thought it was nice, but how often do we really serve gravy? It was not the make or break Christmas gift I thought it would be...so you could say that rather than a home run, it was more of a bunt...it gets you on base, but not in impressive fashion.

Some friends of ours got a kick out of this story when we told them a few years ago.

Guess what they got for Christmas?

Who Needs Vegas?

If you ever go to the suburbs of Las Vegas, stop by a grocery store and take a look at the people playing the slots there. First of all, it is a grocery store, so you've got people that are too lazy to actually go to a casino to gamble. Second, they're usually smoking. Third, there is just a general misery to that horseshoe of slot and video poker machines area.

Why am I telling you this?

I fear that I am heading down a bad path, and I fear that if they ever place smaller versions of Chuck E Cheese in grocery stores, as they do in Vegas with casinos, I may turn into even more of a degenerate Chuck E Cheeser than I already am.

Several weeks ago, my wife and I decided to take our two-year-old to Chuck E Cheese. It was a big hit, so we decided that it would be a good idea to make Chuck E Cheese a reward for successful use of the potty (it's a big deal, trust me).

The problem is that now, my wife and I are having just as much fun as our daughter and I am becoming a bit of a Chuck E Cheese junkie. Tickets and tokens are my drug of choice...and I can't get enough.

Chuck E Cheese really is kind of a mini Las Vegas, with much more on the line. More you say? Yes! Let me explain! In Vegas, you win or lose money. Fine. It's yours, no big deal. Sure, you might have some explaining to do when your wife sees $1,000 less in the bank account, but other than that, no big deal. At Chuck E Cheese, it's more of a "who is the best dad" competition. These kids rely on us dads to "help" them win these games so that they might claim their prize at the end of the evening. I must win tickets, and lots of them.

First up, the Football toss. 3 holes, 1 minute, rack up the points. CLANG, BANG, POW....2 throws made it in...two tickets. The game proudly proclaims "ROOKIE!"

Next up, Skeeball. 30,000, 40,000, 50,000...now this, is my game! 300,000 points later, 6 tickets pour out of the machine. I'm feeling like a winner until I look to my right and see little Sally knocking down 50k a throw and out-ticketing me at least 2-1. Ugh.

Game after game it's a struggle to win tickets. At the end of the night, 132 tickets later, my two-year-old gets a bracelet and a ring. Other dads are cashing in their 1,000s of tickets for new cars, bikes, dolls, Wiis etc...and I'm just glad my kid hasn't noticed. She'll settle for some plastic jewelry and cotton candy. But that competitive fire within me burns and I know that next time will be better!

It was. Problem now is, I've got a Chuck E Cheese addiction. I'm playing the chance games and winning  big. There is a Deal or No Deal Machine there and when I play, I draw a crowd. Every time I am offered a "deal" for tickets, I look to the audience for guidance. Sure, they're off playing other games, but it makes me feel good as I slam the "No Deal" button.

Now that I've figured it all out, I must go back....soon! So maybe I sneak a sticker or two on to my kid's potty chart to get her to her "reward" faster...whatever helps me scratch that ticket itch I say!

Cookie Crumbs

Life is all about fun little surprises Well, fun for me at least.

Several year's ago while I was at the University of Utah, I lived with a couple of really good guys. In fact, all of my roommates during my time in SLC were fantastic. One of my roommates was as nice as they come. He was one of those guys that you would hear described as one that you would want your daughter or sister to marry, he was that nice a guy.

One such day while we lived together, I came home for lunch and made myself a tuna sandwich. You see, during my college days I tried to make lunch as quickly as possible so as to not cut into my study (video game) time. So I made a tuna sandwich, probably had some chips and a drink and headed back to my room to, ahem, study.

My roommate came home shortly thereafter and saw my plate of crumbs sitting on the counter.

He must have figured that I'd made cookies or something, but just did not save him any. This would've been an unlikely scenario given that most of our food was community, but there's no telling what goes through someones mind who sees a plate of crumbs and decides to take action.

With nary a smell or a sniff, he scooped as many of the crumbs into his hand as he possibly could so as to get the maximum benefit of the taste. As you already know, they werent' cookie crumbs. Imagine his surprise when he got a mouthful of tuna crumbs and not cookie crumbs.

He was a pretty good sport about it. He came back to my room and confirmed with me that I had indeed not made any cookies. We had a good laugh at his miscalculation and chagrin over his attempt to nibble on the few morsels of tuna sandwich I had left on my plate unwittingly.

Like I said, life is full of fun surprises. You can never assume that those crumbs you're scooping up are cookies and not something else, but if you do...scoop at your own risk!

Happy Monday!

Up in the Air

As I sat in the waiting area at my gate I took a good look around to observe my surroundings. After said quick glance I logged on to Facebook from my Blackberry and wrote “All the Crazies Congregate at the Airport.” It takes all kinds to travel, that’s for sure and to state the even more obvious, everybody’s going somewhere!


Here are a few things I took note of during my travels.

One thing I noticed right off the bat is how rude people are at the airport. I don’t know if this has more to do with the fact that they hate to travel, hate crowds, hate lines, hate where they’re going, hate the fact that their vacation is over etc…

The first act of rudeness I witnessed was in the security line. The gentlemen in front of me looked like a normal dude, not too many cares in the world. He loaded his stuff on the conveyor belt and proceeded to tip toe/skip through the metal detector. Not surprisingly, it set off the alarm, so he went back. Before the machine reset, he walked through again. This process was repeated several more times before the guard finally said, “Sir, you need to be patient and not skip through the machine.” He finally got the idea and made it through, but not without throwing in a little ‘tude’. Why someone would give the person who controls whether or not you get through security some good guff is beyond me.

Several minutes later the same guy was at the ticket counter looking irritated and shaking his head at the gate agent. Again, here is a person who controls what seat you sit in on the plane. You want to be rude? Fine, enjoy sitting in between twin brothers husky and chunky.

As the people all filed in to the waiting area, I noticed a family of 5 coming in. They looked unassuming enough until I realized that one of their pieces of luggage was actually their dog. “Oh boy” I thought. Look, I have a 2 year old and a 3 month old and while I’m sure nobody wants to be on the plane with them when they are flying, I would much rather have a crying baby that at least could maybe be soothed rather than a cooped up flea bag dog. Folks, if you’re gonna fly, leave the pets at home. They’re not your children and they can manage for a week without you. You pay your neighbor kid $100 to feed and walk the dog for the week and vuala, no barking carry on.

When I boarded the plane I got stopped for security screening. That was fine, I appreciate them doing their job, though I must say when they opened my suitcase I thought “alright, go ahead, but you gotta jam everything back in there when you’re done, don’t look at me!”

Finding one’s seat is always a joy, but even better than that is watching others find theirs. I like the people who put their carry on 10 rows behind where they’re actually sitting. It gives them two opportunities to swim upstream and makes life wonderful for the rest of us. Speaking of carry ons…remember when a carry on was a backpack? Purse? Computer? Ha, not anymore! Nowadays people (including myself) cram as much stuff as they possibly can into these mini suitcases. It makes for some good pre-flight entertainment watching people struggle to put their stuff in the overhead compartment.

Once you’re in the air, the fun really begins. You don’t really realize how not spacious your seating area isn’t until somebody leans their seat back into your personal bubble. From here you could pretty comfortably give them a head massage…if you’re into that sort of thing. Also, I’m not sure what people expect when they lean their seats back…a full recline? I’m sitting there watching these two bozos in front of me push and push and push their seats back. Listen fellas, pushing harder isn’t going to make your seat go back any further, just put your head back and enjoy your neck pain like the rest of us.

By far my most favorite part of flying is the fasten seat belt sign. When that thing flies off it’s as though someone has just proclaimed “gentlemen, start your engines!” Even better is when the fasten seatbelt light goes back on there’s a mad rush to the bathroom. “We’re experiencing some turbulence, please sit down.” Apparently to the average flyer, this translates to…”last chance to pee before we potentially meet our maker if this thing goes south.” Let’s be honest here, if the plane goes down, I’m not going to be all that worried about my bladder. In a free fall or crash, the ole bladder will take care of itself.

I also like how they tell you you’re getting in ahead of schedule. Here’s a statement that truly means nothing, because once you’re on the ground, you have to taxi to your gate, then stand up with everyone, wait for swim up stream guy, deplane, and then go get your bags. I would bet that nine times out of ten, it all evens out. Save your empty promises Mr. Flight Attendant.

Once you deplane, you head to the baggage claim...which is kind of like the island of misfit toys for grown ups. Flight after flight goes in and out of the airport and even when the airport is totally empty, there are still 10-15 bags on the conveyor belt. Where are these people? Was what they packed not important enough to pick up once they got there?

I’m finding that I like flying less and less. The people, the time, the experience, not a lot of fun, but hey, at least I get a free bag of 4 small pretzels to snack on!

Misadventures in Bad Parenting: Bowling

This past weekend we took our daughter to a Bowling birthday party. This was her first experience bowling so we weren't quite sure how she would do. Overall, she was pretty excited, but she tends to startle easily and the first sounds of the ball hitting the pins made her pause and take a few steps back. It took some convincing, but I finally got her up to the lane to bowl. We had one of those ramp things so all she really had to do was push the ball, which she did. The ball didn't have a lot of velocity on it coming off the ramp because, well, she's two. Nevertheless she got a few pins and we were on our way.

It was at this point that I decided to start working the crowd...or at least anyone who would listen to me. The comedy came out of the unique ability that many fathers/men have to turn everything into a contest. By dang, my kid will be the best 2-year-old bowler here, I thought! So, as I was rambling on about how embarassing my daughter's performance was thus far, I drifted back to get the 8lb ball for her to push for the second part of her turn. Unbeknownst to me, she had drifted back with me. Just as I was delivering the punchline to my joke, it turns out I was also delivering an 8lb bowling ball to my kid's forehead. I picked up the ball, told my joke, turned, and WHAM! Knocked her down with one clean shot to the head with a bowling ball.

As she was screaming, I went from stunned to embarassed to feeling like the worst parent in the world for having just put my kid down with a bowling ball for crying out loud. If you ever want to feel really bad about yourself, accidentally injure one of your children...it's a real trip.

If you want to feel even smaller, have your buddy email you a video of his kid bowling with you in the background taking a bowling ball to your kid's head with the headline "Someone Call Child Protective Services!"

What a Pinhead!

The Flop of July

Let me just say this about July as a month. It sucks. It is the worst sporting month of the year. It’s beastly hot. And, after the 4th of July, what is there really to look forward to. Living through July every year is like driving through Nebraska. Sure, Omaha and Lincoln are nice, but both appear within the first few hundred miles of the state. Then what? Kearny? North Platte? Nice, but boring. Corn fields all the way into Wyoming. (My apologies to any Nebraska enthusiasts that may read my blog). The point is, July is a rough month to have to deal with on all fronts. This is why the 4th is so important. Not only do we get to celebrate our independence as a nation, but we get to light off lots and lots of fireworks.

Last year, my daughter wasn’t old enough to appreciate the awe and wonder of a fireworks show. This year, my plan was simple…stretch the 4th into an entire weekend of fireworks and festivities.

As we were driving home from CJ’s, a local Culpeper Ice Cream establishment, we decided that we needed to stop and stock up on fireworks for our 2-year-old to enjoy. The plan was to spend $5, maybe $10 dollars on some snakes and sparklers, you know the small stuff, but that didn’t last. The first thing I noticed were the tanks, we had to have a few of those. Then my wife picked up the disco flashes…that sounded like a good time. Then the guy that managed the stand told us that several of them were buy one get one free. How can you pass that up? All told, our $5-$10 outing turned out to be $23.00. Mind you, I could’ve spent the same amount of money and gotten a good sized show for myself at one of the local grocery stores, but nooooooooooo, I had to stop at the ridiculously priced fireworks stand. This was Friday.

Saturday came and with it came the official 4th of July celebration in Culpeper. I really like the small town celebrations of holidays like the 4th. Somehow it just seems more American. We attended a brief parade earlier in the day, and then headed to Yowell Park for the big town fireworks show. I had really been talking this up to my daughter all day and all week. She was pumped. Then the first firework went off and that’s when the water works started for her. I think the loud popping and the size of the fireworks in the sky combined with the apparent proximity to her was just a little too much for her two-year-old brain to process. The show delivered in a big way. It was in all honesty one of the best firework shows I have ever been to…and that includes downtown DC.

The next day, my daughter had gotten over whatever fear she had of fireworks and was once again ready to venture outside with dad and see some fireworks. We started off simple, with those snakes that you light and grow into ash…not very impressive. Next we fire up a few wooden sparklers. Wait what? Wooden sparklers…? Who knew they even made those. Not surprisingly, as the sparklers burned down, the ash would fall and it just so happened to fall on my brother’s foot. Great, 3 minutes into my show and we’re already down a man! We moved on to the Tanks, I thought to myself, “surely these would do the trick.” My recollection of the tanks from my childhood were that they moved…as though to say, “Look out neighbors, we’re coming for you.” The tanks I bought didn’t do bupkis and didn’t even move an inch. Prompting my mother to shout “Dud” before the tank even finished shooting out the few fireworks it had in it…though I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the tank or me as a showman.

Up next we had the disco flashes, which pretty much temporarily blinded me and the audience, which was both good and bad. Good because the rest of the show was not spectacular, bad because I could barely see what I was doing. But I pressed on and set up three “flowers.” I was going to light them in sequence and really wow the crowd. Just as the wick was lit on the first one and I was about to light the second one, my wife says, “You know those spin right?” Just then, the firework hit the ground and started spinning right towards me. I jumped 10 feet off the ground if I jumped an inch.

Several unimpressive fireworks later, my grandmother yells from the crowd, “Did you keep your receipt?” Ever been heckled by an 85-year-old woman?

Finally, I got a firework that had some pop…unfortunately, it had a little too much pop and the sparks shot dangerously close to the crowd and thus my two-year-old daughter and with that, her fireworks enthusiasm was once again gone.

And so ended my flop of July extravaganza, next year, I’m going to this place:

What The...?

Occasionally in life, you stumble across something that makes you pause and reflect. Other times, you find things that make you say..."what the...?" Last night was a "what the....?"

A routine stop for gas turned into much more when I pulled up to the pump and noticed a well-placed animal head and antlers on the trash can near the gas pump. You know how sometimes you see something and you wonder how it got to wherever it was? Some people do this with big things like Stone Hinge, or the rock formations in southern Utah where one rock is teetering on the brink. Not me, I wonder what the thought process was on leaving this; presumably deer head on the rim of the trash can at a local petroleum depot in Culpeper.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit, I like to clean out the car every now and then while I’m filing up. But that usually ends up being an empty slurpee cup or a receipt or, you know general trash. Can’t say that I’ve ever been cleaning out the car during a stop for gas and thought “oh yeah, I need to get rid of that deer head in the trunk.” Or maybe, the person found it underneath his or her seat…I just don’t know what the thought process is there. But I’d love to find out, or maybe be a fly on the wall…or in this case, on the pump!

Beach Time

I'll be heading out for a much needed beach vacation to the Outerbanks. I am confident upon my return that I will have a myraid of stories and tales of woe from my trip to share with you.

In the meantime, please enjoy some of my favorite posts from the blog thus far:

• Red Grange
• The Trouble With Flossing
• Who Stole the Meatloaf?
• An Evening with Mike & Mike in the Morning
• Time for a mustache?

Also, when I return I will be officially launching a new fantasy football blog. I'm very excited about this project and hope that it'll catch on, so look for that. It is already linked on the side there, but I don't have much content as of yet.

Cheers!

88,888 Miles

Just as I was getting home from work, the odometer clicked to a big milestone for my car. 88,888 miles on the nose. That is a lot of miles on my car. I have put every single mile on that car. I test drove it on a Friday night and bought it on a Saturday morning. I have owned that car now since 2004 and it is still a great car. It started off as my cool bachelor-mobile, and now it is filled with sippy cups, fruit snacks, and random other things from my kids...funny how times change.

So here's to my car, 88,888 miles and still going strong. Look for my next milestone post a 99,999.

Triage 1 and Triage 2

As many of you may or may not know by now, my wife and I welcomed our second child, Jocelyn Emma into the world on April 20th. As far as births go, this one went smoothly, but it was almost missing a key witness...

Because we live an hour and a half away, we had to get up at 3:45 am to get on the roadby 4:30 and be at the hospital for a 6:00 am appointment. There was nothing really remarkable about our trip, we just talked and laughed and shared our excitement about the day ahead. Once we got to the hospital, we parked and they started preparing Melanie for her c-section. Then the fun started.

Sitting in the room with Melanie, I said, "I don't feel very good...I'm gonna go sit down or lay down." I made it as far as the nurses station before I was told to sit down and put my head between my legs because I was as pale as a ghost and if I didn't I'd pass out. So, I shakily sat down and did as I was told. Then, they wheeled me over to a bed in Triage room 2, right next to Melanie who was in Triage room 1. Here I was, laid up with some kind of nausia and dehydration in another room, while the person I was there to support was just fine being prepped in another room.

In the hospital, they have this pain tolerance sign. As seen below. I was right around the top during my little near pass out incident...and Melanie was right around 2 or 3 after her c-section. Yes, I'm a tough guy.

Finally, I was able to stand on my own two and be there when Jocelyn arrived. They handled me with soft gloves and asked me if I was okay every 5 minutes...finding places for me to sit (and insisting I do so) at every step a long the way. Right before I went into the O.R. they asked me how I was. "Good, just a little wounded pride now..."


The end result was well worth it though...

An Evening With Mike & Mike in the Morning

Given that ESPN Radio Hosts Mike Greenberg & Mike Golic (Mike & Mike in the Morning) are setting off on tour in support of their new book, I thought I would share my experience attending the last book tour they went on and what happened that night.

To do this, we need to wind the clock back 4 years.

The year is 2006 and it is late March. The NCAA tournament is in full swing and the countdown to my wedding is on. Being an avid listener of Mike & Mike in the Morning, I find out that Mike Greenberg is doing a book tour in support of his then new book Why my Wife Thinks I’m an Idiot and will be in Georgetown for a book signing. I thought this would be a really fun thing for my wife-to-be and I to do. We could meet these radio hosts that I looked up to and it would just be a fun night on the town…I even had a joke prepared to tell “Greenie” when I got to the front of the line that I knew would be a home run.

More background: In the fall of 2005, Mike & Mike ran a promotion called the “40-yard-blitz” wherein they would show a key word during a college football game broadcast. Fans could then enter the key word on a website through ESPN and if the word was correct, they’d be entered in a daily contest to win a 42” flat screen TV. Admittedly, I was obsessed with this contest and I wanted to win the TV. What better way to start off my marriage than with a brand-new TV? Melanie as not as thrilled with the contest and it reached a bit of a tipping point when we (read: I) halted a Friday night date night to watch an Army/Iowa St. football game to get the key word. That’s Army and Iowa St….

So, I purchased the book and off we went to meet Mike & Mike in Georgetown. (Here is where I need to digress once again). Georgetown is a place that I don't like going. If there is a hell, and I have the unfortunate fate of having to go there, I’m confident that I will have to cross the Key Bridge to get there. It’s crowded, always busy, drivers stop in the middle of the road for no reason, delivery and moving trucks block lanes of traffic for hours at a time, pedestrians wander out in the middle of the road for no apparent reason (the crosswalk just doesn’t do it for them). Bottom line…I am not a fan of going into Georgetown…but I made the sacrifice so I could meet Mike & Mike and have a nice evening out with Melanie.

When we got to Barnes & Noble, there was a long line. We got there in the last hour or so of the signing and were some of the last ones to make it. As we waited patiently for our turn the excitement was building. Here were these two guys I enjoyed listening to and really looked up to. It was exciting to get to meet them.

Just as I was about to get my turn, something happened. Greenberg’s face went completely blank. It was as though he had seen a ghost. The person in front of us was a woman in her late 30s/early 40s and she had Greenberg in a complete trance. She apparently was someone he had gone to high school with (or perhaps college) and was someone he had clearly had some affection for many years earlier. After what seemed to be a few long moments, he shook her son’s hand and gave her a hug. He said goodbye and as I approached his eyes remained locked on his blast from the past.

Finally, it was my turn. I had my 40-yard-blitz joke all lined up and I was ready to go! As I set my book down to be signed, he remained in a haze. I said, “everything alright?” Finally, he was able to shake the cobwebs off enough to address me. He said, “Everything is fine, she’s just someone who I used to know very well and think very highly of.” He then asked me my name, (still stunned at what had just happened and not completely paying attention). As I gave it to him and introduced him to Melanie, I fired up my joke; “Yep almost lost her to the 40-Yard-Blitz.” (A clear joke about focusing on winning the contest and not going on dates with her). He responded, “What does that mean?” I explained that we were engaged, but I spent so much time focusing on trying to win the contest that I was worried she wouldn’t stick it out with me. He didn’t get it. “Well, you said you’re getting married…congratulations and best of luck to you.” He shook my hand and sent me on my way.

As I walked out with Melanie by my side, we stopped to get a quick autograph from Golic. He was on the phone and looked tired of being there. (Understandable, not his book) Not quite the experience I thought it was going to be when I planned it. I don’t exactly know what I was expecting, but whatever it was, that wasn’t that.

I guess the moral of the story here is; if you plan on attending a Mike & Mike book signing, you might want to get to know the people next to you in line and move up or back a few slots if you find yourself next to a lost love of one of the hosts. Otherwise, you may wind up like I did, just as dazed and confused as Greenie and wondering what just happened.

Red Grange

When I was younger (so much younger than today) I wrote letters to professional athletes and asked them for autographs. I would tell them that they were my favorite player, or that I had some connection with their school or team, and I would ask for their autograph. Some letters were an exercise in creative writing for me. I would send a self-addressed stamped envelope along with the letter and the card to make it as easy as possible for the player to sign the card and send it back. Usually, I’d just send the letter to the stadium or team headquarters.

One day, my buddy Nate changed the game when he came home with a book that had the home addresses of many retired athletes from all sports. This opened up a whole new avenue for my letter-writing career. I could now write to the legends in each sport!

During the summer of 1994, I found a cheap box of unopened packs of hall of fame brand football cards and bought the whole thing. This gave me cards for players like Johnny Unitas, Roger Staubach, Gene Upshaw, and many, many others. Because these players were much older in some cases (Johnny U or Otto Graham). I would tell them that my dad was a huge fan of theirs and it would sure mean a lot if they would sign a card for him. One such legendary figure I wrote to was Red Grange.

Red Grange was a football player in the very early days of the sport. (like leather helmets early!) He played for the Chicago Bears and was a key figure in legitimizing football as a sport on a national level in the U.S. For his time, he was a superstar and one of the best in the game. He even caught a TD pass from Bronco Nagurski to win the 1932 championship for the Chicago Bears. As a legend and one of the all-time greats, I thought it'd be cool to have his autograph. So I wrote him a letter.

"Dear Mr. Grange," I said. Then I gave him my name and told him a little about myself and how much I loved football. I continued, "My dad and I are both very big fans of you as a player, we think you were great." Despite the fact that his career likely ended before my dad was even born, and neither of us had probably ever seen him play I went on and on and on about how much of a fan of his I was and how I really thought he was a great player. Naturally, I asked for his autograph towards the end of the letter noting that it would “mean a lot for a couple of his biggest fans” to have his autograph. With that, I sent it on its way. Several weeks later I got a response.

"Dear Andrew," it read. "If you and your dad were such big fans of Red, you would know that he died three years ago. Thank you for the letter, Margaret Grange."

Who Stole the Meatloaf?

An unfortunate crime appeared to happen last week somewhere between the refridgerator at home and the refridgerator at work. The crime: Meatloaf theft. This might not seem like a big deal to the average reader, but rest assured, it was.

Last Friday started out like any other day for me. I awoke early to face my long commute into the office and as part of my normal morning routine, I packed up my lunch of leftovers from a previous dinner. The leftover that would ultimately end up spinning my world out of control was, you guessed it, meatloaf.

The meatloaf was accompanied by a nice side dish of pasta and some snickerdoodles (which I planned to share with one of my co-workers).

As I made my long journey to the office, I thought very little of the contents of the lunch container that would reshape my day, and I arrived at work and place the meatloaf in the refrigerator.

The hours passed and my stomach began to growl as lunch time drew near. So I got up, walked to the refrigerator and removed the lid off of my lunch container to warm up my tasty meatloaf. Imagine my shock and disbelief when my meatloaf was gone...I mean, the container was still there, pasta included, but no meatloaf. Where could it have gone? I know that certain leftovers are left in the refrigerator long enough that they can get up and walk away, but such was not the case with this meatloaf...there had been a theft!

As I munched on my heated not very filling honeycomb pasta, I was seething. I ran through the list of possible theft candidates over and over in my head. Who could it be? Was it it my cunning father? He's been known to eat a meatloaf sandwich or two in his day, he could've easily pulled the meatloaf out of the container the day before. Or, was it my mother? Sweet, caring, giving...unless food is involved! Could it have possibly been my dear sweet wife Melanie? Or worse, Audrey???

With every unfulfilling bite, I thought and thought...and the first thought that came to my mind was that this honeycomb pasta really didn't hold a torch to the honeycomb cereal I came to enjoy from my youth. This thought made everything worse...every bite made me increasingly angry...and It also made me really want some honeycombs!

FInally, unable to take it anymore, I called Melanie and explained to her what happened. She assured me that neither she or Audrey was the culprit. That narrowed the list to two...and quickly to one for me.

Dad.

It was so simple, he removed the meatloaf the day before to enjoy a meatloaf sandwich. As the hours passed I thought about how I would address this issue when I got home and how my father would soon feel the justice of my rebuke as he realized that his son virtually starved because of his decision. How could he live with himself after doing that to his son? He would soon have to face the music.

Then, two things happened. First, in my starved state, I quickly ate all 6 snickerdoodles that I had brought into the office to share. Second, the phone rang. It was Melanie. She was laughing. I had taken the wrong lunch container to work. The container I took was a pasta only container, and the one I was supposed to take, the one she told me to take, was sitting in the exact same location she told me it would be in. Case closed. Mystery solved.

I stole the meatloaf...from myself.

Hello World!

Well, I finally did it. I branched out on my own and created a blog to share thoughts, stories, and other things that come to mind as I go throughout my daily routine...which currenly consists of nearly 4 hours in a car each day. Sufficeth to say, I have a lot of time to think, and what better way than to get some of those thoughts down on paper (virtually).

The catalyst for this blog, even right down to its title, was my Coin Whisperer post on the family blog my wife and I have. I just figured that I could branch out a little and allow that blog to stand on its own.This does not mean that I won't post on that blog as well, but it's just an opportunity for me to take a step back from time to time, look at my life and the world around me, and share some thoughts.

I hope you enjoy the ride!

Andrew