In less than three weeks pitchers and catchers report for spring training; it is truly the most wonderful time of the year. I am so amped up (softball, baseball, MLB) for the upcoming season that I can't seem to focus on anything.
It's crazy, I really don't have an off season when it comes to the grand old game; in my opinion the greatest game ever invented.
As soon as the World Series ends I start hitting the baseball sites and reading up on free agents, possible moves, trade rumors, etc, etc....
Not that I understand it all. There are a lot of things that are over my head that I honestly could care less about. Rule 5, arbitration, and all the stat junkies and the way they use numbers to rationalize every part of this beautiful game.
In fact, if you were to just say the word "sabermetrics" (the deep statistical analysis of the game) my brain will immediately start to shut down. To this day I have no idea what the stat WAR is and I could frankly care less.
There are just a handful of stats that I keep track of; the most important ones being the numbers in the W and L column.
Billie Beane I am not....
HONESTY:
As much as I love this game, as a player, I wasn't very good. I was fast, had a good glove, decent arm. But I couldn't hit to save my life.
Up until high school I was short......real short. In fact, to me personally, it was kind of a big deal when I finally hit five foot tall as a freshman. (And ninety five pounds ---- I was a beast!!!!)
One of the biggest disservices you can do for a young ball player is to tell him when he goes to the plate to just stand there.
All the way through grade school and junior high I went to the plate, bat on my shoulder, with no intention of swinging. I used my lack of height to my advantage and walked constantly. I had a lot of coaches growing up and I specifically remember being told by one very early into my baseball odyssey (although I can't remember which one) to take the walk.
Not being a very aggressive kid, Eddie Gaedel Jr. was only too happy to oblige. (Any baseball weenies out there know who I'm talking about?)
Then, in the summer of my sophomore year, I stood at five feet, four inches. It was at this time that the game turned drastically, almost cruelly, against me. Suddenly, opposing pitchers actually had a strike zone to work with; and at the high school level the pitchers were a lot more accurate.
I went from walking constantly to striking out constantly. I simply had no idea how to hit a baseball (which is why, as a coach, I work with Toby and Tera constantly on hitting).
You could have sent me up to the plate with a handle on a three foot wide board and I still wouldn't have hit the damn ball.....I was terrible.
In fact, it got so bad that when I went up to bat with two outs my teammates started grabbing their gloves and getting ready to hit the field.
A friendly piece of advice......It doesn't matter how small the kid you coach is, teach 'em to hit, not just stand there and take walks. That thing on his shoulder isn't a damn prop, it's a bat......Teach him/her to use it.
I'm not bitter about it....(Well, maybe a little)....I was a space cadet anyway with easily the shortest attention span on every team I played for.
The important thing is that (years later) I learned from it. You can benefit from almost any adverse situation if you can approach it with an open mind.
ONE WORD:
I had a coach, Dale, that I played for who always preached the same word, every practice, every game.
ENTHUSIASM......
I haven't played for Dale in almost thirty years and yet every time I hear the word "enthusiasm" I immediately think of him and it takes me back to a great place.
I remember being that goofy little kid day dreaming in the outfield. I have no doubt in my mind that, given my tendency to space out, I was not an easy kid to coach. But beyond a shadow of a doubt my best memories of baseball were when I played for Dale.
I couldn't tell you how many games we won....I almost never knew the score in any of the games I played. I couldn't tell you how Dale ran practice. In fact, I couldn't tell you much of anything statistically about the time I played for him.
But I can tell you that I enjoyed just about every minute of it.
Today, when I step onto a ball field I just feel at peace, it is my sanctuary. Nothing matches that beautiful field, the camaraderie in the dugout. I love the smell of a newly oiled glove (I wonder if they can make that into a candle scent?) and the crack of a bat is like music to my ears. There is nothing in the world that can match this wonderful game.
Football is all about size, strength and speed; and it's usually the quarterback/running back that gets the lions share of the glory.
In basketball everyone talks about the player with the high scoring average. No one talks about the defensive specialist or the rebounder that played a significant role in the game.
But in baseball you have nine players; all with a chance to bat, all with a chance to make a great defensive play. Nine players with an equal opportunity to become a hero.
And that hero can be under five foot tall and weigh eighty five pounds. I remember the last year I played for Dale I pitched a complete game in our league tournament......one of the smallest kids on the team got to be a big, bad ball player for a day. He got to feel like a hero.......
All it required was a little hard work and a lot of.......ENTHUSIASM.
Dale, I never properly thanked you for instilling the love of the game in me. I definitely didn't understand or appreciate it at the time. But I most certainly do now......
Thanks, coach........
You know what? I better stop here. If I don't I'll end up writing a small book. Perhaps I will share more baseball stories as the season rolls along.
By the way, the experts projected my Cubs to have the worst season record in all of MLB this year.
Hey, that's ok.......Let's play two. :)
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Monday, January 27, 2014
Hey, I know you...
So far, so good. For the first time since kids, Karla and I feel as if we have our lives, if not in control, at least somewhat organized.
Stress levels are way down, the house is clean (at least by man standards, according to Karla.....whatever), and while financially we may not be packing away as much money into savings as we would like, we are doing just fine.
So now we have reached the point where we can ask ourselves, "What else can we do?".
The answer, we decided, was the need to address our relationship.
Being a parent is an extreme sacrifice. All of your money and every waking moment of your day is consumed by children. Parents basically put their own personal lives on hold while they raise their kids, creating some tense moments in regards to parenting styles, money, school, and most importantly, their relationship, or lack thereof.
For years Karla and I have put our own personal interests and activities on the back burner as we concentrated all of our energy into raising our kids the best way we know how.
I can't remember the last time I went hunting (World's worst hunter, by the way). The last Chiefs game I went to was around five years ago and I haven't been to a Royals game in equally as long. If I'm lucky, I may get to go fishing once or twice a year.
I can't remember the last time Karla had a night out with the girls to scrapbook or to just have a few drinks.
But, most importantly, I can't remember the last when we have had consistent quality time with just ourselves.
That, however, is about to change. Toby turns fourteen next month and, although he doesn't know it yet, that qualifies him to be our free babysitter.....HOORAY!!!!!
I may even make him an official laminated card and wrap it in a box for his birthday.....Wouldn't he find that awesome? :) Shits and giggles....Yup, I can just see the excitement on his face now.
Then a thought occurred to me. What did Karla and I do before kids?
Uhhh......
My God, has it really been that long?
Karla and I are adamant that while a date night - being something like going out for dinner or coffee - is fine, we just feel like we need to do something more...But what?
Hiking....That's what. I remember the two of us rented a cabin at Custer State Park up in South Dakota and spent the entire weekend hiking the trails; and we had a blast. Shortly thereafter, Toby was born and we haven't been hiking since.
A little side story: Karla was pregnant with Toby when we went hiking. We were just going to do the short one to two mile trails but Karla read her map wrong (she swears she would have stopped and asked for directions had there been anyone to ask) and we ended up hiking over fourteen miles in one morning. She was totally wiped out afterwards and literally slept the entire trip home.
Her mom would have blown a gasket had she known that Karla was hiking in the mountains whilst carrying her first grandchild. So Karla didn't say anything about her pregnancy and continued to not say anything a month later when the entire family went white water rafting in Colorado.
Karla would wake me up while it was still dark and send me out for tea and crackers to settle her stomach before everyone else got up and around. She hid her pregnancy masterfully.
Being young, we didn't think anything of it.
Being older, the thought of my daughter or daughter-in-law hiking and white water rafting with a bun in the oven scares the shit out of me......What in the hell were we thinking?
So Karla and I have been working out faithfully since the beginning of January. I can't wait for the day when the two of us can strap on our backpacks and put fifteen or twenty miles behind us. Given our busy ball schedule our first hike will probably have to wait until the fall, but it'll be worth the wait.
I wonder how Karla deals with the dogs when she's working out? Our Shih Tzu, Mario, is driving me nuts. Every time I try to do planks or crunches he's right there by my side.
"Dude, get off of me."
"Ah, you just snorted in my face.....Get away!!"
But, by far the worst, is when he starts sniffing in my ear. I don't understand his fascination. Do I look like a June Bug floundering to get right side up? Maybe Mario thinks I'm in a life threatening situation, that I've fallen and can't get up...I don't know....I just know that he's driving me crazy...
Karla did make a good point in that our us time doesn't always have to involve a lot of planning. The one thing we have forgotten how to do as we were raising our kids was the playful banter that we used to partake in.
Holding hands in public, a small peck on the lips as a way of saying good morning....
A swift smack on the ass......"LEVEL UP!" POP!!!!
"OW, DAMMIT, QUIT THAT...."
You know, affectionate type stuff.....
I loved my kids when they were young. But now that they are older I can't help but feel liberated. They are independent enough that Karla and I can get reacquainted with each other.
And I am so looking forward to it....
Stress levels are way down, the house is clean (at least by man standards, according to Karla.....whatever), and while financially we may not be packing away as much money into savings as we would like, we are doing just fine.
So now we have reached the point where we can ask ourselves, "What else can we do?".
The answer, we decided, was the need to address our relationship.
Being a parent is an extreme sacrifice. All of your money and every waking moment of your day is consumed by children. Parents basically put their own personal lives on hold while they raise their kids, creating some tense moments in regards to parenting styles, money, school, and most importantly, their relationship, or lack thereof.
For years Karla and I have put our own personal interests and activities on the back burner as we concentrated all of our energy into raising our kids the best way we know how.
I can't remember the last time I went hunting (World's worst hunter, by the way). The last Chiefs game I went to was around five years ago and I haven't been to a Royals game in equally as long. If I'm lucky, I may get to go fishing once or twice a year.
I can't remember the last time Karla had a night out with the girls to scrapbook or to just have a few drinks.
But, most importantly, I can't remember the last when we have had consistent quality time with just ourselves.
That, however, is about to change. Toby turns fourteen next month and, although he doesn't know it yet, that qualifies him to be our free babysitter.....HOORAY!!!!!
I may even make him an official laminated card and wrap it in a box for his birthday.....Wouldn't he find that awesome? :) Shits and giggles....Yup, I can just see the excitement on his face now.
Then a thought occurred to me. What did Karla and I do before kids?
Uhhh......
My God, has it really been that long?
Karla and I are adamant that while a date night - being something like going out for dinner or coffee - is fine, we just feel like we need to do something more...But what?
Hiking....That's what. I remember the two of us rented a cabin at Custer State Park up in South Dakota and spent the entire weekend hiking the trails; and we had a blast. Shortly thereafter, Toby was born and we haven't been hiking since.
A little side story: Karla was pregnant with Toby when we went hiking. We were just going to do the short one to two mile trails but Karla read her map wrong (she swears she would have stopped and asked for directions had there been anyone to ask) and we ended up hiking over fourteen miles in one morning. She was totally wiped out afterwards and literally slept the entire trip home.
Her mom would have blown a gasket had she known that Karla was hiking in the mountains whilst carrying her first grandchild. So Karla didn't say anything about her pregnancy and continued to not say anything a month later when the entire family went white water rafting in Colorado.
Karla would wake me up while it was still dark and send me out for tea and crackers to settle her stomach before everyone else got up and around. She hid her pregnancy masterfully.
Being young, we didn't think anything of it.
Being older, the thought of my daughter or daughter-in-law hiking and white water rafting with a bun in the oven scares the shit out of me......What in the hell were we thinking?
So Karla and I have been working out faithfully since the beginning of January. I can't wait for the day when the two of us can strap on our backpacks and put fifteen or twenty miles behind us. Given our busy ball schedule our first hike will probably have to wait until the fall, but it'll be worth the wait.
I wonder how Karla deals with the dogs when she's working out? Our Shih Tzu, Mario, is driving me nuts. Every time I try to do planks or crunches he's right there by my side.
"Dude, get off of me."
"Ah, you just snorted in my face.....Get away!!"
But, by far the worst, is when he starts sniffing in my ear. I don't understand his fascination. Do I look like a June Bug floundering to get right side up? Maybe Mario thinks I'm in a life threatening situation, that I've fallen and can't get up...I don't know....I just know that he's driving me crazy...
Karla did make a good point in that our us time doesn't always have to involve a lot of planning. The one thing we have forgotten how to do as we were raising our kids was the playful banter that we used to partake in.
Holding hands in public, a small peck on the lips as a way of saying good morning....
A swift smack on the ass......"LEVEL UP!" POP!!!!
"OW, DAMMIT, QUIT THAT...."
You know, affectionate type stuff.....
I loved my kids when they were young. But now that they are older I can't help but feel liberated. They are independent enough that Karla and I can get reacquainted with each other.
And I am so looking forward to it....
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Tales from the Valley -- Chewing tobacco...
Chewing tobacco was just a way of life when I was growing up. My granddad chewed right up 'til the day he died, my uncles all chewed, my dad chewed; hell, just about everyone I knew chewed.
The old Skoal just seemed to be a right of passage in my family.
My family wasn't the only influence when it came to the placing of the ol' worm dirt between the cheek and gum, or in your bottom lip if that was your preference. (I did both)
The Kansas City Royals were in their hey day when I was growing up and signs of their baseball supremacy were everywhere; from the place mats and cups I used to collect from Pizza Hut, to the baseball cards I collected, the t shirts, the cheap plastic batting helmets, on an on and on. The Royals were all that mattered in the spring, summer and, God willing, the fall.
It was thanks to the Royals that I picked up some bad habits. Our boys in blue were perhaps the prime source of aggravation for every summer baseball coach in town.
There was Amos Otis; the outfielder that caught every fly ball with just one hand.
Coach: Tommy, catch ball with both hands!!!
There was U.L. Washington; the shortstop who played the game with a toothpick in his mouth.
Coach: I don't ever want to see anyone come to practice or a game with a toothpick in his mouth.....I'll sit you on the bench if you do.
But, by far and away, my biggest influence in regards to bad habits was one Clint Hurdle.
Don't get me wrong, a lot of players chewed back in the day. But nobody in this small child's eyes chewed like Clint Hurdle did. (And, no, I don't blame Clint Hurdle for anything....I made a conscious decision....So there)
Clint Hurdle was a cheek chewer. I don't know why but as a kid he looked really cool with what seemed like an entire can of Skoal or pouch of Redman crammed into his cheek. Looking back on it now through older eyes, he really looked more like a chipmunk with a cheek full of nuts that he was preparing to store away from the upcoming winter. But back then, oh boy, Clint Hurdle was the man.
I couldn't tell you how good a player he was or any of his stats.....But I could tell you that Clint Hurdle was cool.....And I wanted to imitate him.
Obviously, as a grade school kid, I was too young to take on the family habit. So I did the next best thing: Big League Chew. I still smile when I think about this shredded up gum that came in a pouch; just like the pouches the big leaguers used to carry. Although now I think of Big League Chew the same way that I view candy cigarettes.....Just not a good idea.
(Before I get too carried away....I, for a brief time, was a Skoal guy. That's what the men in my family chewed. I tried Red Man but found it a little too sweet for my liking.)
It simply wasn't a baseball game without your Big League Chew. I remember opening that pouch and promptly stuffing about half of it's contents into my cheek. Man, did I feel like a baseball player.
Too bad I didn't get to have Big League Chew for every game....Much to my disappointment, Mom wasn't about to spring for a new pouch every time I played ball...Dammit.
Looking back, it's a wonder that our coaches didn't have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on any of us players. With all the diving and sliding around it is truly amazing that none of us got that behemoth wad of gum lodged in our throats.
And let's not forget the best part of chewing......the spitting. From the bleachers to the side of the road where everyone set up to watch the game, to the field and dugout, there were mucousy splat marks everywhere. Yes sir, spitting was a blast, especially if you were up to bat. After every pitch you step out of the batters box and have a spit, chew a little, make and attempt to do your best tough guy professional ball player face and then get back in the box and dig in. (It didn't help....I struck out.....a lot)
By the time I was in seventh grade I started chewing off and on. A dip here and a dip there. I didn't buy my own until I was in high school, I just bummed a dip off of whoever was willing to give me one.
I was just a casual chewer, not a hard core every day chewer like some of my friends were. These individuals (I say individuals because even though I never saw it, I was told that one of the girls in our school chewed too) went to great lengths to try and hide that dip they had in their mouth while in school. Eventually the Skoal bandits, chew that comes in little individual pouches that can be placed in your cheek, became popular with a few of the guys at the school. If they felt a teacher was getting suspicious they could quickly dispose of the evidence. When the teacher asked to look in their mouth he or she would find no signs of tobacco stuck in the person in questions teeth....And you can't convict on just smell alone. (I bet that smelled nice)
Still, every now and then someone would get caught. When that happens the offending party usually ends up in in school suspension and made to read stories about the horrors of chewing tobacco. The most popular story used by our principal was that of a young man who died of cancer, but not before having his lower jaw removed first. Of course, the story came with some fairly gruesome pictures.
But it never convinced any of us to quit. When you are young and invincible, those kind of stories are simply meant for someone else....It just won't happen to me.
I firmly believe that parents are masters of telling the same story in about a hundred different ways; just trying to find the right combination of words that will make an impression on their unimpressed teenager. Yeah, ok dad.....
Of course there are those parents, like my dad, who prefer a more, um, direct approach.
"Son, you start taking drugs and I'll just kill you myself.....There's no need for you to ruin the lives of everyone around you."
Well, I guess that settles it.
What got me to quit chewing was an unfortunate camping trip.
I don't even recall how I made it to Bingo and Curly's camp site. I just know that I ended up there.
Bingo got his nickname by getting the first interception of the football season. If a player picked off a pass, everyone was suppose to yell "BINGO" as a way of letting his teammates know their was an interception and that they needed to start blocking.
Curly got his nickname ---- well --- I have heard rumors of how he got his nickname but perhaps this isn't the right place to reveal what I heard.....Let's move on.
The neat thing about Bingo and Curly was that they were in the same class together. Bingo was older, yet Curly was his uncle......Do you get all that? Yes, we have some big families in the Valley.
Anyway, Bingo and Curly had their ATV's with them and somehow I ended up on the back of one of them -- sadly, I can't remember which one. But before I got on, I did the Clint Hurdle and packed a wad of chew in my cheek.
We tore around the dirt paths, into fields, bobbed and weaved around trees. Everything was just grand until........
I leaned over to spit just as the ATV dropped suddenly; bouncing and rattling through a dip. Not expecting the sudden jarring I accidentally swallowed my dip.......All of it. The big Clint Hurdle cheek wad went straight down my throat and splashed into the bottom of my stomach.
The effect was immediate. I broke out into a cold sweat and could start to feel the ache in my stomach. By the time the ride was over my head was beginning to spin and I had no idea what was going on around me.
Somewhere in conversation we had all agreed that it would be a great idea to go to the high school and... well, I'm sure the statue of limitations has long expired but since I didn't let Bingo and Curly know I was writing this story I won't divulge....Some memories in the Valley are very long.
I don't remember getting into a truck and I really don't remember the ride to the high school. I don't know what time it was, except that it was dark. All I could think of was how sick I was getting.
The next thing I remember was we were in the middle of doing what we came to do when the Skoal residing in my stomach hit me full force. After a few steps the kicking mule in my stomach brought me to a halt.
"C'mon, Tom...Let's go."
I laid on the ground and muttered to no one in particular. "I can't go any further. I'll be ok....You guys leave me here." (At least that's what I think I said)
So, being the compassionate friends that they were ---- they did. (I would have done the same thing.)
I lay in the middle of the school yard, curled up in a writhing ball. I was sweating profusely and the only comfort I could find was that of my cheek on the cold hard sidewalk.
Usually, throwing up is a bad thing. But in this case it would have been a God send. I wanted to blow chunks so bad and I couldn't.....I don't know why I never though to stick my finger down my throat.
Then a thought occurred to me. I was five blocks away from home and my only ride there just left in a cloud of dust....Shit.
I lay there for what seemed like forever as I tried to convince myself to get off the ground and start making my way home.
The journey home seriously started off at a crawl. After a short distance I figured out that, at this rate, it would be daylight before I made it home. I would miss curfew and that would be unacceptable.
I managed to struggle to my feet and ambulate very slowly toward home. I was nowhere near upright; I looked more like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, hobbling and moaning.
"SANCTUARY.......SANCTUARY....." (The bells make me deaf, you know)
I've ran 10K's. I've hiked up to fifteen miles. But that five block hobble home was the longest walk I have ever taken in my entire life. You'd have thought that I had found the Holy Grail when I first saw the front door of my home.
As soon as I walked in the door I went straight for the stairs to head to my room. Dad must have been watching on helluva TV show because he didn't even notice me crawling up the stairs.
I crashed on my bed, curled up in a ball, and lay there in what would turn out to be the longest night of my life. I would pass out for a little bit only too be woken up by the wrestling midgets in my stomach. (OH!!! A flying elbow from the top turnbuckle!!!)
I have never seriously chewed since. Mom would need not search my room for Skoal anymore. I wanted nothing to do with it.
Years later, out of curiosity, I took a small dip from a friend and immediately spit it out the second I started to feel dizzy. The memories of that night on the ATV came back in vivid recollection.
It was probably one of the best things that have ever happened to me. I have a story I can share with my kids that will hopefully encourage them to shy away from a few vices.
Oddly, whenever I'm chewing a piece of gum I can't help but shove it behind my bottom lip and let it sit there. It's been over twenty five years since I've had a dip.....I guess some remnants of that habit will never really go away.....
The old Skoal just seemed to be a right of passage in my family.
My family wasn't the only influence when it came to the placing of the ol' worm dirt between the cheek and gum, or in your bottom lip if that was your preference. (I did both)
The Kansas City Royals were in their hey day when I was growing up and signs of their baseball supremacy were everywhere; from the place mats and cups I used to collect from Pizza Hut, to the baseball cards I collected, the t shirts, the cheap plastic batting helmets, on an on and on. The Royals were all that mattered in the spring, summer and, God willing, the fall.
It was thanks to the Royals that I picked up some bad habits. Our boys in blue were perhaps the prime source of aggravation for every summer baseball coach in town.
There was Amos Otis; the outfielder that caught every fly ball with just one hand.
Coach: Tommy, catch ball with both hands!!!
There was U.L. Washington; the shortstop who played the game with a toothpick in his mouth.
Coach: I don't ever want to see anyone come to practice or a game with a toothpick in his mouth.....I'll sit you on the bench if you do.
But, by far and away, my biggest influence in regards to bad habits was one Clint Hurdle.
Don't get me wrong, a lot of players chewed back in the day. But nobody in this small child's eyes chewed like Clint Hurdle did. (And, no, I don't blame Clint Hurdle for anything....I made a conscious decision....So there)
Clint Hurdle was a cheek chewer. I don't know why but as a kid he looked really cool with what seemed like an entire can of Skoal or pouch of Redman crammed into his cheek. Looking back on it now through older eyes, he really looked more like a chipmunk with a cheek full of nuts that he was preparing to store away from the upcoming winter. But back then, oh boy, Clint Hurdle was the man.
I couldn't tell you how good a player he was or any of his stats.....But I could tell you that Clint Hurdle was cool.....And I wanted to imitate him.
Obviously, as a grade school kid, I was too young to take on the family habit. So I did the next best thing: Big League Chew. I still smile when I think about this shredded up gum that came in a pouch; just like the pouches the big leaguers used to carry. Although now I think of Big League Chew the same way that I view candy cigarettes.....Just not a good idea.
(Before I get too carried away....I, for a brief time, was a Skoal guy. That's what the men in my family chewed. I tried Red Man but found it a little too sweet for my liking.)
It simply wasn't a baseball game without your Big League Chew. I remember opening that pouch and promptly stuffing about half of it's contents into my cheek. Man, did I feel like a baseball player.
Too bad I didn't get to have Big League Chew for every game....Much to my disappointment, Mom wasn't about to spring for a new pouch every time I played ball...Dammit.
Looking back, it's a wonder that our coaches didn't have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on any of us players. With all the diving and sliding around it is truly amazing that none of us got that behemoth wad of gum lodged in our throats.
And let's not forget the best part of chewing......the spitting. From the bleachers to the side of the road where everyone set up to watch the game, to the field and dugout, there were mucousy splat marks everywhere. Yes sir, spitting was a blast, especially if you were up to bat. After every pitch you step out of the batters box and have a spit, chew a little, make and attempt to do your best tough guy professional ball player face and then get back in the box and dig in. (It didn't help....I struck out.....a lot)
By the time I was in seventh grade I started chewing off and on. A dip here and a dip there. I didn't buy my own until I was in high school, I just bummed a dip off of whoever was willing to give me one.
I was just a casual chewer, not a hard core every day chewer like some of my friends were. These individuals (I say individuals because even though I never saw it, I was told that one of the girls in our school chewed too) went to great lengths to try and hide that dip they had in their mouth while in school. Eventually the Skoal bandits, chew that comes in little individual pouches that can be placed in your cheek, became popular with a few of the guys at the school. If they felt a teacher was getting suspicious they could quickly dispose of the evidence. When the teacher asked to look in their mouth he or she would find no signs of tobacco stuck in the person in questions teeth....And you can't convict on just smell alone. (I bet that smelled nice)
Still, every now and then someone would get caught. When that happens the offending party usually ends up in in school suspension and made to read stories about the horrors of chewing tobacco. The most popular story used by our principal was that of a young man who died of cancer, but not before having his lower jaw removed first. Of course, the story came with some fairly gruesome pictures.
But it never convinced any of us to quit. When you are young and invincible, those kind of stories are simply meant for someone else....It just won't happen to me.
I firmly believe that parents are masters of telling the same story in about a hundred different ways; just trying to find the right combination of words that will make an impression on their unimpressed teenager. Yeah, ok dad.....
Of course there are those parents, like my dad, who prefer a more, um, direct approach.
"Son, you start taking drugs and I'll just kill you myself.....There's no need for you to ruin the lives of everyone around you."
Well, I guess that settles it.
What got me to quit chewing was an unfortunate camping trip.
I don't even recall how I made it to Bingo and Curly's camp site. I just know that I ended up there.
Bingo got his nickname by getting the first interception of the football season. If a player picked off a pass, everyone was suppose to yell "BINGO" as a way of letting his teammates know their was an interception and that they needed to start blocking.
Curly got his nickname ---- well --- I have heard rumors of how he got his nickname but perhaps this isn't the right place to reveal what I heard.....Let's move on.
The neat thing about Bingo and Curly was that they were in the same class together. Bingo was older, yet Curly was his uncle......Do you get all that? Yes, we have some big families in the Valley.
Anyway, Bingo and Curly had their ATV's with them and somehow I ended up on the back of one of them -- sadly, I can't remember which one. But before I got on, I did the Clint Hurdle and packed a wad of chew in my cheek.
We tore around the dirt paths, into fields, bobbed and weaved around trees. Everything was just grand until........
I leaned over to spit just as the ATV dropped suddenly; bouncing and rattling through a dip. Not expecting the sudden jarring I accidentally swallowed my dip.......All of it. The big Clint Hurdle cheek wad went straight down my throat and splashed into the bottom of my stomach.
The effect was immediate. I broke out into a cold sweat and could start to feel the ache in my stomach. By the time the ride was over my head was beginning to spin and I had no idea what was going on around me.
Somewhere in conversation we had all agreed that it would be a great idea to go to the high school and... well, I'm sure the statue of limitations has long expired but since I didn't let Bingo and Curly know I was writing this story I won't divulge....Some memories in the Valley are very long.
I don't remember getting into a truck and I really don't remember the ride to the high school. I don't know what time it was, except that it was dark. All I could think of was how sick I was getting.
The next thing I remember was we were in the middle of doing what we came to do when the Skoal residing in my stomach hit me full force. After a few steps the kicking mule in my stomach brought me to a halt.
"C'mon, Tom...Let's go."
I laid on the ground and muttered to no one in particular. "I can't go any further. I'll be ok....You guys leave me here." (At least that's what I think I said)
So, being the compassionate friends that they were ---- they did. (I would have done the same thing.)
I lay in the middle of the school yard, curled up in a writhing ball. I was sweating profusely and the only comfort I could find was that of my cheek on the cold hard sidewalk.
Usually, throwing up is a bad thing. But in this case it would have been a God send. I wanted to blow chunks so bad and I couldn't.....I don't know why I never though to stick my finger down my throat.
Then a thought occurred to me. I was five blocks away from home and my only ride there just left in a cloud of dust....Shit.
I lay there for what seemed like forever as I tried to convince myself to get off the ground and start making my way home.
The journey home seriously started off at a crawl. After a short distance I figured out that, at this rate, it would be daylight before I made it home. I would miss curfew and that would be unacceptable.
I managed to struggle to my feet and ambulate very slowly toward home. I was nowhere near upright; I looked more like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, hobbling and moaning.
"SANCTUARY.......SANCTUARY....." (The bells make me deaf, you know)
I've ran 10K's. I've hiked up to fifteen miles. But that five block hobble home was the longest walk I have ever taken in my entire life. You'd have thought that I had found the Holy Grail when I first saw the front door of my home.
As soon as I walked in the door I went straight for the stairs to head to my room. Dad must have been watching on helluva TV show because he didn't even notice me crawling up the stairs.
I crashed on my bed, curled up in a ball, and lay there in what would turn out to be the longest night of my life. I would pass out for a little bit only too be woken up by the wrestling midgets in my stomach. (OH!!! A flying elbow from the top turnbuckle!!!)
I have never seriously chewed since. Mom would need not search my room for Skoal anymore. I wanted nothing to do with it.
Years later, out of curiosity, I took a small dip from a friend and immediately spit it out the second I started to feel dizzy. The memories of that night on the ATV came back in vivid recollection.
It was probably one of the best things that have ever happened to me. I have a story I can share with my kids that will hopefully encourage them to shy away from a few vices.
Oddly, whenever I'm chewing a piece of gum I can't help but shove it behind my bottom lip and let it sit there. It's been over twenty five years since I've had a dip.....I guess some remnants of that habit will never really go away.....
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
And the wife goes nuts...
Last week, Karla sent me this link:
http://hearthandholm.blogspot.com/2012/07/a-miracle-for-under-200-40-meals-for-40.html
"I think we should try this." she wrote in her message.
"Ok," I responded, "Let's sit down and talk about this and make up a game plan."
I honestly think Karla quit reading once she saw "OK" for the following Saturday morning she told me that she had her list made out and was going to the store to pick up everything we needed for the all day kitchen fest which was taking place that very afternoon.
Oh, boy.....I could hardly contain my lack of excitement.
It's not that I didn't want to do it; it's a great idea after all.... I am, by nature, a planner and procrastinator. I have to plan things out well in advance so that I can mentally prepare myself for the task that I am about to undertake. I don't jump into anything unless I absolutely have to.
Well, opposites must attract because Karla is a get it done yesterday personality; a shoot first and ask questions later individual. In fact, one of her mottos is "Sometimes it's better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission."
Trust me --- she definitely lives by that motto. She has dragged me through one neurotically induced episode (adventure, I believe, is the word Karla uses) after another....and each time, (with a few notable exceptions) it was not nearly as bad as I feared it would be. She's really the only reason (other than sports) that I get out of the house.
It was funny. Karla went to Aldi for her groceries and what happened to her just made my day. In an earlier blog I had written about some of the lessons I learned from shopping at Aldi for the first time; from needing a quarter for the carts to the store not accepting credit.
I was getting ready for baseball practice when I got a phone call.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's me," said Karla, "Can you look up the pin number for my debit card....It won't take."
"Ok."
I dig out the number and read it off to her....
"That's what I entered and the transaction keeps failing. I'm going to have to look into this."
"Well, you have the checkbook don't you?"
"Oh, that's right. Ok, I'll write a check, bye."
"Bye."
Ten minutes later I get a text -- "They do no accept checks. Driving to the bank.....GRRRR!!!"
I couldn't help but chuckle. It's not just me. :)
When Toby and I came home from practice, this is what we walked into:
Karla had been cooking for almost three hours, all the available counter space was used up as well as all the burners on the stove and a section of the dining room table. To me, it just look like a disorganized mess, but every time I offered to clean or move something I was told to leave it alone. Whatever. Backing away.....
At that moment in time I would have loved more than anything to grab a beer and sit down in front of the X-Box....But my addiction to breathing won out as I knew that if I were to make any attempt at being lazy I could very possibly end up with my picture on a milk carton.......I gritted my teeth and feigned enthusiasm.
"Is there anything you would like me to do?"
I got put to work cutting chicken up into bite size pieces:
And boy was I thrilled:
I even dragged Toby out of his room and made him give it a go. He didn't find nearly as entertaining.
"Dad, really.....How are we related?"
"Whatever, go back to your room."
The whole freezer thingy cooking process took about five hours. For all the food that was made that's not bad at all. Of course I may beg to differ had I been home the whole time. My contribution to freezer meal festival was only about an hour.
Here is the list of everything that Karla did:
And this it what the end of the cooking day looked like:
Regardless, if this little experiment proves to be any kind of a time saver and stress reliever then it will most definitely come in handy from April through June when we are never home long enough to cook.
Karla is already planning an even bigger cooking day for sometime in mid February.
I won't lie, I'm not thrilled about spending an entire day in the kitchen. But at least Karla gave me enough time to mentally prepare for it.......I believe I will start by buying beer.....
http://hearthandholm.blogspot.com/2012/07/a-miracle-for-under-200-40-meals-for-40.html
"I think we should try this." she wrote in her message.
"Ok," I responded, "Let's sit down and talk about this and make up a game plan."
I honestly think Karla quit reading once she saw "OK" for the following Saturday morning she told me that she had her list made out and was going to the store to pick up everything we needed for the all day kitchen fest which was taking place that very afternoon.
Oh, boy.....I could hardly contain my lack of excitement.
It's not that I didn't want to do it; it's a great idea after all.... I am, by nature, a planner and procrastinator. I have to plan things out well in advance so that I can mentally prepare myself for the task that I am about to undertake. I don't jump into anything unless I absolutely have to.
Well, opposites must attract because Karla is a get it done yesterday personality; a shoot first and ask questions later individual. In fact, one of her mottos is "Sometimes it's better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission."
Trust me --- she definitely lives by that motto. She has dragged me through one neurotically induced episode (adventure, I believe, is the word Karla uses) after another....and each time, (with a few notable exceptions) it was not nearly as bad as I feared it would be. She's really the only reason (other than sports) that I get out of the house.
It was funny. Karla went to Aldi for her groceries and what happened to her just made my day. In an earlier blog I had written about some of the lessons I learned from shopping at Aldi for the first time; from needing a quarter for the carts to the store not accepting credit.
I was getting ready for baseball practice when I got a phone call.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's me," said Karla, "Can you look up the pin number for my debit card....It won't take."
"Ok."
I dig out the number and read it off to her....
"That's what I entered and the transaction keeps failing. I'm going to have to look into this."
"Well, you have the checkbook don't you?"
"Oh, that's right. Ok, I'll write a check, bye."
"Bye."
Ten minutes later I get a text -- "They do no accept checks. Driving to the bank.....GRRRR!!!"
I couldn't help but chuckle. It's not just me. :)
When Toby and I came home from practice, this is what we walked into:
Karla had been cooking for almost three hours, all the available counter space was used up as well as all the burners on the stove and a section of the dining room table. To me, it just look like a disorganized mess, but every time I offered to clean or move something I was told to leave it alone. Whatever. Backing away.....
At that moment in time I would have loved more than anything to grab a beer and sit down in front of the X-Box....But my addiction to breathing won out as I knew that if I were to make any attempt at being lazy I could very possibly end up with my picture on a milk carton.......I gritted my teeth and feigned enthusiasm.
"Is there anything you would like me to do?"
I got put to work cutting chicken up into bite size pieces:
And boy was I thrilled:
I did get to use the old fashioned juicer:
Which I found mildly amusing as I ground the lime......"Hulk juice!!! Rargh!!!"
I even dragged Toby out of his room and made him give it a go. He didn't find nearly as entertaining.
"Dad, really.....How are we related?"
"Whatever, go back to your room."
The whole freezer thingy cooking process took about five hours. For all the food that was made that's not bad at all. Of course I may beg to differ had I been home the whole time. My contribution to freezer meal festival was only about an hour.
Here is the list of everything that Karla did:
Estimated 33 meals total. Ingredient cost $88.09- $2.67/meal. Will still add side and rice/ bread. But total cost per meal will still come in under $4.00/ meal.... Less than $1/person/meal.
Recipes (and # of meals packaged to serve 4)
Milwaukee pork chops- 4 meals
Marinaded pork chops - 2 meals
Chili - 3 meals
Spaghetti pie - 6 meals
Spaghetti sauce - 2 meals
Mexican Shepherd's Pie- 2 meals
Honey Sesame Chicken - 2 meals
Cilantro Lime Chicken w /black beans and corn - 4 meals
12 individually frozen breakfast burritos - 2 meals
18 individually frozen bean & cheese burritos - 3 meals
I am assuming "normal" portion sizes. Since we can stretch even further with rice and pasta- we should be able to get more than 30 meals out if this.
We will still need to purchase mike and produce- which is not included in the $88 expense.
And this it what the end of the cooking day looked like:
Karla estimates that this should last us about a month. Having a teenage boy in the house, I'm not so optimistic. I'm thinking more like two weeks.
Regardless, if this little experiment proves to be any kind of a time saver and stress reliever then it will most definitely come in handy from April through June when we are never home long enough to cook.
Karla is already planning an even bigger cooking day for sometime in mid February.
I won't lie, I'm not thrilled about spending an entire day in the kitchen. But at least Karla gave me enough time to mentally prepare for it.......I believe I will start by buying beer.....
Thursday, January 16, 2014
And we're off...
And so the sports insanity begins.....
January through March will be basketball (Tera), indoor football (Toby), baseball (Toby), and at the tail end of March, softball (Tera). Add a couple of non sports related activities and we have a crazy, but manageable schedule.
So far the schedule looks like this:
Monday: 4-H (Tera)
Wednesday: Youth Group (Toby) and basketball practice (Tera)
Friday or Saturday: Football game
Saturday: Basketball game, baseball practice
Sunday: Football practice.
That's not bad at all. We have a couple of days with nothing on the schedule and the games and practices are only going to take up a portion of the day. Really, that's an incredibly easy routine...
It's when we hit April through June that we get in to the meat grinder of the schedule.
With softball and baseball there will be at least five practices a week and then the weekend tournaments. The tentative tournament schedule is 6, maybe 7, tournaments for Tera and possibly as many as 8 tournaments for Toby on top of his league schedule.
This is where the stay at home dad experiment will be put to the test.
As I have stated in previous posts; it's not that we can't get through it with both of us working. It's that we can't get through it without watching the house fall apart and us spending WAY too much money on fast food.
Our diet goes straight into the toilet when the baseball/softball season gets into full swing. After all, you can't make sandwiches and pack granola bars if no one has had time to go to the store.
It's kind of funny now that I think about it.....I mean, how can we have no food in the fridge and still have a mountain of dishes? That just doesn't add up...... Oh wait....Pizza....Yes, I remember now.
I do know of a couple household pets that will be thankful that I'm home. I don't know how many times throughout the ball season that either Karla or I have come home to an accident in the house; and you certainly can't fault them. If you were to ask me to hold it for twelve plus hours I'd be poopin' on the floor too.
I did find a way to get out of cleaning canine mishaps. In our house whoever stumbles across an accident first gets to pay the "finders fee" -- they get to clean the mess.
So whenever we all got home from the ball field, I would unlock the front door and let everyone else go in first. :)
There have been a few times where I have opened the door and as the kids walked in I caught a whiff of something incredibly foul....."Whoa, that's got a little bite to it."
(Let me throw out that, overall, the dogs do very well. But there have been those few times where we left home at six in the morning and didn't make it back until eleven pm or later. So I'm glad for their sake that at least during the week accidents shouldn't be a problem.....I really ought to put up a fence)
I'm letting the cat out of the bag thinking that this won't be an issue this summer....But if it is you can bet your ass that there will be four people standing at the front door late at night; arguing over who has to go in first....
The one thing that I am not looking forward to is the cleaning of uniforms. Karla used to do it, but she shoved that off on me the instant I gave my two weeks at my full time job.
Karla has an incredible hatred for white uniforms. In fact, the word hatred may not be strong enough. I don't know how many times I've seen that little flash of anger in her eyes as she asks, "Why did they have to get white F###### uniforms?!"
For Karla, little miss prim and proper, to drop the F bomb -- it has to be bad.
Karla, the family workaholic, cannot stand scrubbing the stains out of uniforms. I've watched her practically grind an entire bar of Fels Naptha soap into a pair of pants, wash them on hot, and then do it all over again multiple times until they come out sparkling.
The uniform would always come out looking as if it were new.......Then the kids would promptly go out and soil them up again....I can almost hear Karla's teeth grinding from the dugout.....And if we happen to be playing on red dirt? Karla will be dropping F bombs for the next week.
I'm worried....Real worried. Karla loves to work; and if she's gleefully pushing this chore off on me, it must be a real shit job.
On top of the indoor insanity I am also hoping to tackle the yard and plant a garden this year. I may be biting off more than I can chew with the garden; but I can at least take solace in knowing that I won't have to pay anyone to mow my yard this year. Being on a half acre lot, the trimming of the grass can be an expensive proposition...
As far as the garden goes I will readily admit that I have no clue what I'm doing or what it is that I'm actually getting myself into. But I have wanted to grow a garden for quite a while now so, by God, I'm going to do it........If anything it will make for good blog material -- especially if it turns out to be a complete disaster.
The only other thing we have to worry about is Karla's travel itinerary. So far, she is already scheduled to hit both coasts once this spring. I am anticipating a few more business trips over the summer. So there may be times when I have to call grandparents and ask for help....
Crazy, crazy, crazy......Am I ready for it? I have no idea....
January through March will be basketball (Tera), indoor football (Toby), baseball (Toby), and at the tail end of March, softball (Tera). Add a couple of non sports related activities and we have a crazy, but manageable schedule.
So far the schedule looks like this:
Monday: 4-H (Tera)
Wednesday: Youth Group (Toby) and basketball practice (Tera)
Friday or Saturday: Football game
Saturday: Basketball game, baseball practice
Sunday: Football practice.
That's not bad at all. We have a couple of days with nothing on the schedule and the games and practices are only going to take up a portion of the day. Really, that's an incredibly easy routine...
It's when we hit April through June that we get in to the meat grinder of the schedule.
With softball and baseball there will be at least five practices a week and then the weekend tournaments. The tentative tournament schedule is 6, maybe 7, tournaments for Tera and possibly as many as 8 tournaments for Toby on top of his league schedule.
This is where the stay at home dad experiment will be put to the test.
As I have stated in previous posts; it's not that we can't get through it with both of us working. It's that we can't get through it without watching the house fall apart and us spending WAY too much money on fast food.
Our diet goes straight into the toilet when the baseball/softball season gets into full swing. After all, you can't make sandwiches and pack granola bars if no one has had time to go to the store.
It's kind of funny now that I think about it.....I mean, how can we have no food in the fridge and still have a mountain of dishes? That just doesn't add up...... Oh wait....Pizza....Yes, I remember now.
I do know of a couple household pets that will be thankful that I'm home. I don't know how many times throughout the ball season that either Karla or I have come home to an accident in the house; and you certainly can't fault them. If you were to ask me to hold it for twelve plus hours I'd be poopin' on the floor too.
I did find a way to get out of cleaning canine mishaps. In our house whoever stumbles across an accident first gets to pay the "finders fee" -- they get to clean the mess.
So whenever we all got home from the ball field, I would unlock the front door and let everyone else go in first. :)
There have been a few times where I have opened the door and as the kids walked in I caught a whiff of something incredibly foul....."Whoa, that's got a little bite to it."
(Let me throw out that, overall, the dogs do very well. But there have been those few times where we left home at six in the morning and didn't make it back until eleven pm or later. So I'm glad for their sake that at least during the week accidents shouldn't be a problem.....I really ought to put up a fence)
I'm letting the cat out of the bag thinking that this won't be an issue this summer....But if it is you can bet your ass that there will be four people standing at the front door late at night; arguing over who has to go in first....
The one thing that I am not looking forward to is the cleaning of uniforms. Karla used to do it, but she shoved that off on me the instant I gave my two weeks at my full time job.
Karla has an incredible hatred for white uniforms. In fact, the word hatred may not be strong enough. I don't know how many times I've seen that little flash of anger in her eyes as she asks, "Why did they have to get white F###### uniforms?!"
For Karla, little miss prim and proper, to drop the F bomb -- it has to be bad.
Karla, the family workaholic, cannot stand scrubbing the stains out of uniforms. I've watched her practically grind an entire bar of Fels Naptha soap into a pair of pants, wash them on hot, and then do it all over again multiple times until they come out sparkling.
The uniform would always come out looking as if it were new.......Then the kids would promptly go out and soil them up again....I can almost hear Karla's teeth grinding from the dugout.....And if we happen to be playing on red dirt? Karla will be dropping F bombs for the next week.
I'm worried....Real worried. Karla loves to work; and if she's gleefully pushing this chore off on me, it must be a real shit job.
On top of the indoor insanity I am also hoping to tackle the yard and plant a garden this year. I may be biting off more than I can chew with the garden; but I can at least take solace in knowing that I won't have to pay anyone to mow my yard this year. Being on a half acre lot, the trimming of the grass can be an expensive proposition...
As far as the garden goes I will readily admit that I have no clue what I'm doing or what it is that I'm actually getting myself into. But I have wanted to grow a garden for quite a while now so, by God, I'm going to do it........If anything it will make for good blog material -- especially if it turns out to be a complete disaster.
The only other thing we have to worry about is Karla's travel itinerary. So far, she is already scheduled to hit both coasts once this spring. I am anticipating a few more business trips over the summer. So there may be times when I have to call grandparents and ask for help....
Crazy, crazy, crazy......Am I ready for it? I have no idea....
Monday, January 13, 2014
Bloggin' with a throbbin' knoggin...
Oh, boy, do I love headaches. I wish I could have one every day, dammit. I love not being able to hold a thought for any longer than it takes for..........Dammit, I just lost my train of thought.
Anyhoo....Today's blog will be a compilation of random thoughts and......something or other.
Man, crap.......It's that right between the eyes and up through the top of the skull headache.....Freaking awesome.
In my efforts to save money I have had a lot of successes and only a few minor failures. One such failure was the purchase of cheap tissue paper. With Puffs you have a soft and gentle material that feels good on a sore nose. It also smells nice if you are so inclined to purchase the scented tissues.
What I didn't realize was how durable Puffs was. I didn't make that discovery until I brought home Joe's Cheapo tissues.....or whatever the hell it was called.
I knew I was in trouble when I pulled that first tissue from the box; it had the feel of crepe paper -- no -- it was more like the thin sheets of seaweed you use to roll sushi. I was actually half expecting the tissue to crumble in my hand.
Anyway, I mentioned the durability of Puffs. I grew to appreciate Puffs the very instant I sneezed into this crappy tissue. With the combination of a powerful exhale, thick snot produced by a lovely cold, a few boogers and who knows what else Joe's Cheapo tissue disintegrated; leaving me staring in mildly horrified disgust at the slimy nasal waste that covered both of my hands.
"OH MY GOD!!!!!"
The next day Karla brought home Puffs......I am so sorry Puffs, I will always be your loyal consumer from here on out.
Man....cripes.....this sucks......Do woodpeckers get headaches?
In our effort to eat healthier as a family we have been trying to limit our consumption of meat to once a day....It's been hit and miss so far but we have been doing it long enough to confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tera is a not a fan of beans.
Chili she likes, after that it all goes down hill. Red beans and rice? "NO".... Bean counter chowder....."It's okay, I guess." Hopping John's crock pot bean recipe....."Blech."
Normally when Tera gripes about supper we make her take at least a few bites and then she is free to forage for whatever she can find.
But it is so obvious that Tera doesn't simply not care for beans.....She absolutely detests them.....Or at least she detests everything we have tried so far.
Remember when you were a kid and you were told that you couldn't leave the table unless you ate everything on your plate? I wouldn't ever make my kids do that.
I once had a rather rotten run in with a plate of okra.
Now pickled okra I like. Fried okra is awesome.....Boiled okra? Absolutely disgusting....
I remember mom telling me that I could not leave the table until I finished my okra......and I sat there for what seemed like an eternity. Which actually didn't bother me because I had homework that I didn't feel like doing anyway; so I was more than content to let the vile green snot pod sit on my plate and get cold.
Mom finally got pissed and told me to get out of the kitchen. I skipped out of the room thinking I had won a major victory....
Hell, no......Mr. Boiled Okra was waiting for me the next evening....That was some hard eatin'....
I wonder if anyone has ever had a migraine and a hangover at the same time? I believe that would be the ultimate in cranial discomfort suckage....
I grow to hate winter more and more the older I get. I have been dreaming lately of a winter home in Belize or Cozumel or anywhere that doesn't have freaking ice on the ground....
But I do have one odd pleasure that I partake in during the cold snap. I don't know why but I just love to bundle up and walk in the cold. Wind chill minus eight? Hell yeah.....Let's go walking.
I usually go with long underwear, two pairs of socks (not White Sox, they suck....Go Cubs) sweat pants, flannel shirt, hooded sweat shirt, hooded jacket, scarf (the one that I got from my sister in law -- who knew scarfs could kick so much ass?) a balaclava, stocking cap, gloves and finally, a pair of insulated overalls.
It is very important that you go to the bathroom BEFORE you layer up....
I love the look that the wife and kids give me when I waddle my Pillsbury dough boy ass out the door.
"Yes, I know, mi familia, I am well aware that I have lost my mind. I'm off!!!!
I don't know why, I just get this whole 'man against the elements' thing going through my head. I suddenly find myself daydreaming that I am on an arctic expedition, flag in my hand, ready to plant it on some frozen mountain top.
"Sir, the penguins have turned back...."
"Wussies!!! I got this....."
Or maybe I'm carrying a back pack full of serum across the frozen tundra to a sick village in desperate need of medicine.
"Sir, we have lost the dogs...."
"Balto will lead them home....I got this..."
Yes....I'm a dork.
And, yes, headaches bring out the best in me.......Man, this throbbing is freaking awesome.....
Just let's me know I'm alive....
Okay. I can't take anymore....I'm out.....
Anyhoo....Today's blog will be a compilation of random thoughts and......something or other.
Man, crap.......It's that right between the eyes and up through the top of the skull headache.....Freaking awesome.
In my efforts to save money I have had a lot of successes and only a few minor failures. One such failure was the purchase of cheap tissue paper. With Puffs you have a soft and gentle material that feels good on a sore nose. It also smells nice if you are so inclined to purchase the scented tissues.
What I didn't realize was how durable Puffs was. I didn't make that discovery until I brought home Joe's Cheapo tissues.....or whatever the hell it was called.
I knew I was in trouble when I pulled that first tissue from the box; it had the feel of crepe paper -- no -- it was more like the thin sheets of seaweed you use to roll sushi. I was actually half expecting the tissue to crumble in my hand.
Anyway, I mentioned the durability of Puffs. I grew to appreciate Puffs the very instant I sneezed into this crappy tissue. With the combination of a powerful exhale, thick snot produced by a lovely cold, a few boogers and who knows what else Joe's Cheapo tissue disintegrated; leaving me staring in mildly horrified disgust at the slimy nasal waste that covered both of my hands.
"OH MY GOD!!!!!"
The next day Karla brought home Puffs......I am so sorry Puffs, I will always be your loyal consumer from here on out.
Man....cripes.....this sucks......Do woodpeckers get headaches?
In our effort to eat healthier as a family we have been trying to limit our consumption of meat to once a day....It's been hit and miss so far but we have been doing it long enough to confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tera is a not a fan of beans.
Chili she likes, after that it all goes down hill. Red beans and rice? "NO".... Bean counter chowder....."It's okay, I guess." Hopping John's crock pot bean recipe....."Blech."
Normally when Tera gripes about supper we make her take at least a few bites and then she is free to forage for whatever she can find.
But it is so obvious that Tera doesn't simply not care for beans.....She absolutely detests them.....Or at least she detests everything we have tried so far.
Remember when you were a kid and you were told that you couldn't leave the table unless you ate everything on your plate? I wouldn't ever make my kids do that.
I once had a rather rotten run in with a plate of okra.
Now pickled okra I like. Fried okra is awesome.....Boiled okra? Absolutely disgusting....
I remember mom telling me that I could not leave the table until I finished my okra......and I sat there for what seemed like an eternity. Which actually didn't bother me because I had homework that I didn't feel like doing anyway; so I was more than content to let the vile green snot pod sit on my plate and get cold.
Mom finally got pissed and told me to get out of the kitchen. I skipped out of the room thinking I had won a major victory....
Hell, no......Mr. Boiled Okra was waiting for me the next evening....That was some hard eatin'....
I wonder if anyone has ever had a migraine and a hangover at the same time? I believe that would be the ultimate in cranial discomfort suckage....
I grow to hate winter more and more the older I get. I have been dreaming lately of a winter home in Belize or Cozumel or anywhere that doesn't have freaking ice on the ground....
But I do have one odd pleasure that I partake in during the cold snap. I don't know why but I just love to bundle up and walk in the cold. Wind chill minus eight? Hell yeah.....Let's go walking.
I usually go with long underwear, two pairs of socks (not White Sox, they suck....Go Cubs) sweat pants, flannel shirt, hooded sweat shirt, hooded jacket, scarf (the one that I got from my sister in law -- who knew scarfs could kick so much ass?) a balaclava, stocking cap, gloves and finally, a pair of insulated overalls.
It is very important that you go to the bathroom BEFORE you layer up....
I love the look that the wife and kids give me when I waddle my Pillsbury dough boy ass out the door.
"Yes, I know, mi familia, I am well aware that I have lost my mind. I'm off!!!!
I don't know why, I just get this whole 'man against the elements' thing going through my head. I suddenly find myself daydreaming that I am on an arctic expedition, flag in my hand, ready to plant it on some frozen mountain top.
"Sir, the penguins have turned back...."
"Wussies!!! I got this....."
Or maybe I'm carrying a back pack full of serum across the frozen tundra to a sick village in desperate need of medicine.
"Sir, we have lost the dogs...."
"Balto will lead them home....I got this..."
Yes....I'm a dork.
And, yes, headaches bring out the best in me.......Man, this throbbing is freaking awesome.....
Just let's me know I'm alive....
Okay. I can't take anymore....I'm out.....
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Life on a budget..again...
Living on a budget hasn't exactly been the smoothest transition for me, but I'm beginning to settle in.
With Toby's first baseball practice and my first coaches meeting for Tera's softball team coming up this weekend (yes, I know it's January and, yes, I know there is snow on the ground -- welcome to the world of competitive sports....Actually, I know of a few teams that have practiced all winter.....That's a little crazy, even for a zealot like me) -- I am really missing my gear budget.
I once had three hundred dollars a month of disposable income just to spend on ball gear....and oh boy did I spend it.
Ladies, don't let your husbands give that old rash about how they don't understand how you can spend all day shopping. Send them to a sporting goods store and your significant other will spend all day looking around, making plans and buying all sorts of shit that he really doesn't need. (But it was on sale!)
As an example, when I first took up fishing many, many years ago. I went to the Bass Pro Shop with a friend of mine (hey Chad) and bought up about half the store.
You know that moment when your husband asks you about all of your scrap booking equipment? (Holy moly, do you really use all of that stuff?)....
Yeah, ask him if you can take a look at his tackle box.....Or tool box if he doesn't fish....
I had hooks for bass, hooks for catfish, hooks for pan fish, hooks in all different shapes and sizes. (A majority of which rusted without ever getting used -- I dropped my tackle box in the drink and didn't dry it out properly upon retrieval.)
I had spinners, jigs, buzz baits, hula poppers, crank baits, plastic worms of every shape color and size. Stink bait (which I never used, but did bust open, got shit everywhere, and stunk up my tackle box)
I went through bobbers like they were candy, so they were always new. Especially if brother Tim went fishing with us -- the gun nut always had a fire arm that he was just dying to "test out"..... Oddly, we never caught much when Tim was with us.....
And out of all of that gear, just how much if it did I use? A Mepps spinnerbait, a few jigs, and a few plastic worms......that's it.
The rest of my stuff ---- and I can't really recall why --- disappeared somehow or another.
But I'm willing to bet that Karla still has all of her scrap booking stuff.
And despite owning a boat load of gear --- as a fisherman --- I suck.
I got the beer drinking part down. As far as actually catching fish --- well, yeah, never mind.
Anyway....I'm getting off track here......
It's not that men don't understand how you ladies can spend all day shopping; it's that they don't understand how you can spend all day shopping at the places you shop.
Sure, a man will tell you that when he goes to the mall he goes straight in, gets what he needs, and gets right the hell out.
But does he go straight in and out when he wanders into Cabela's or Dick's Sporting Goods? Yeah, right.
Karla learned real quick that when knot head husband takes his annual pilgrimage to all things sports, he is not allowed a credit card (we only have one, it's collecting dust) and he must have a VERY specific list with him.
The list is of the utmost importance; it simply can't say "baseball gear" for that kind of a generalityusually always results in my shopping trip going anywhere from fifty to one hundred and fifty dollars over budget.
This year, however, things will be different. It pains me to think that I no longer have a gear budget and a list of everything I want and (perceive that I) need. I can't just go get whatever I want anymore.
Nope. This year I will have to fill out an expense report and submit it to the budget weenie for approval.....(Yes dear, I know where the couch is....I am getting my blankets out of storage now)
I really, really, really, miss my gear budget......Suddenly my birthday, which never used to be a big deal, may become a way of getting some of the precious gear that I need oh so badly. (I don't need no steenking cake --- I need baseballs!!)
So, you may wonder, do I regret giving up my job?
NO.....HELL NO!!!!
I miss the work and really miss my co-workers (An awesome bunch). But I wouldn't trade that for the great time I'm having with my family.
And, to be honest, this budget thing isn't anywhere near as bad as when Karla and I were doing the Dave Ramsey thing......If it were that bad I would be at the front door of my former employers, on my knees, and begging for my job back.
Trust me.....I will never get so out of control with our money that it will force us to go through Financial Peace again......Once is enough.
Let's face it....I've been spoiled for a very long time. When I talk about doing without, I'm talking about doing without things that I want -- not need.
Both kids' players fees are covered. Tournaments expenses ---- covered. There is nothing that the kids absolutely have to have.
But, man, I miss being able to walk into a store and drop down two-hundred-fifty on a bat without even blinking an eye. Now, God forbid, I actually have to SAVE for it.
With Toby's first baseball practice and my first coaches meeting for Tera's softball team coming up this weekend (yes, I know it's January and, yes, I know there is snow on the ground -- welcome to the world of competitive sports....Actually, I know of a few teams that have practiced all winter.....That's a little crazy, even for a zealot like me) -- I am really missing my gear budget.
I once had three hundred dollars a month of disposable income just to spend on ball gear....and oh boy did I spend it.
Ladies, don't let your husbands give that old rash about how they don't understand how you can spend all day shopping. Send them to a sporting goods store and your significant other will spend all day looking around, making plans and buying all sorts of shit that he really doesn't need. (But it was on sale!)
As an example, when I first took up fishing many, many years ago. I went to the Bass Pro Shop with a friend of mine (hey Chad) and bought up about half the store.
You know that moment when your husband asks you about all of your scrap booking equipment? (Holy moly, do you really use all of that stuff?)....
Yeah, ask him if you can take a look at his tackle box.....Or tool box if he doesn't fish....
I had hooks for bass, hooks for catfish, hooks for pan fish, hooks in all different shapes and sizes. (A majority of which rusted without ever getting used -- I dropped my tackle box in the drink and didn't dry it out properly upon retrieval.)
I had spinners, jigs, buzz baits, hula poppers, crank baits, plastic worms of every shape color and size. Stink bait (which I never used, but did bust open, got shit everywhere, and stunk up my tackle box)
I went through bobbers like they were candy, so they were always new. Especially if brother Tim went fishing with us -- the gun nut always had a fire arm that he was just dying to "test out"..... Oddly, we never caught much when Tim was with us.....
And out of all of that gear, just how much if it did I use? A Mepps spinnerbait, a few jigs, and a few plastic worms......that's it.
The rest of my stuff ---- and I can't really recall why --- disappeared somehow or another.
But I'm willing to bet that Karla still has all of her scrap booking stuff.
And despite owning a boat load of gear --- as a fisherman --- I suck.
I got the beer drinking part down. As far as actually catching fish --- well, yeah, never mind.
Anyway....I'm getting off track here......
It's not that men don't understand how you ladies can spend all day shopping; it's that they don't understand how you can spend all day shopping at the places you shop.
Sure, a man will tell you that when he goes to the mall he goes straight in, gets what he needs, and gets right the hell out.
But does he go straight in and out when he wanders into Cabela's or Dick's Sporting Goods? Yeah, right.
Karla learned real quick that when knot head husband takes his annual pilgrimage to all things sports, he is not allowed a credit card (we only have one, it's collecting dust) and he must have a VERY specific list with him.
The list is of the utmost importance; it simply can't say "baseball gear" for that kind of a generality
This year, however, things will be different. It pains me to think that I no longer have a gear budget and a list of everything I want and (perceive that I) need. I can't just go get whatever I want anymore.
Nope. This year I will have to fill out an expense report and submit it to the budget weenie for approval.....(Yes dear, I know where the couch is....I am getting my blankets out of storage now)
I really, really, really, miss my gear budget......Suddenly my birthday, which never used to be a big deal, may become a way of getting some of the precious gear that I need oh so badly. (I don't need no steenking cake --- I need baseballs!!)
So, you may wonder, do I regret giving up my job?
NO.....HELL NO!!!!
I miss the work and really miss my co-workers (An awesome bunch). But I wouldn't trade that for the great time I'm having with my family.
And, to be honest, this budget thing isn't anywhere near as bad as when Karla and I were doing the Dave Ramsey thing......If it were that bad I would be at the front door of my former employers, on my knees, and begging for my job back.
Trust me.....I will never get so out of control with our money that it will force us to go through Financial Peace again......Once is enough.
Let's face it....I've been spoiled for a very long time. When I talk about doing without, I'm talking about doing without things that I want -- not need.
Both kids' players fees are covered. Tournaments expenses ---- covered. There is nothing that the kids absolutely have to have.
But, man, I miss being able to walk into a store and drop down two-hundred-fifty on a bat without even blinking an eye. Now, God forbid, I actually have to SAVE for it.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Things I learned over Christmas break...
I learned a few things over Christmas break....
1. The Kids....
When kids can't get outside, the house goes from humble abode to disaster area within minutes of them waking.....Hell, I smirked when I thought about the possibility of the Governor touring the house, declaring a state of emergency, and then applying for federal aid....I wonder how big the disaster recovery team would be?
You know that sad, unfortunate soul that has to follow the horses along the parade route with a shovel and broom? That's kind of how I felt; just walking (moping) around, smile upside down, and picking up huge piles of shit. Except that this parade would not end for weeks.....a most hopeless feeling indeed. In fact, I just threw my hands up in the air for a couple of those days during the break and just said to hell with it --- and then went and played video games.
I decided that I needed to put the kids to work; giving each a chore to do on a daily basis. That's when I found out that if I want it done right I have to be VERY SPECIFIC with my instructions.
I incorrectly assumed that when I asked Toby to load the dishwasher that he would also put detergent in it and turn the washer on.
Nope.....an hour later I opened up door to dry and put away the dishes only to find that they never got washed.
"Oh, you didn't tell me that."
No....I guess I didn't.
When I gave Tera laundry duty, I told her to check the washer and if there was anything in it she needed to switch it over to the dryer and then start a new load.
So Tera did exactly as she was told.
Later, when I opened the dryer to remove and fold the towels, my nostrils were assaulted by the stench of hot vinegar vapors. The towels that I used to clean the house never got washed.
"Oh my God" I gagged, "Tera, these towels are still dirty. Didn't you smell the vinegar?"
"You told me if there was anything in the washer that I needed to switch it over."
So I did.....I just didn't think I would have to tell her to make sure the laundry in the washer had been washed first.
In lieu of this child labor mess, I enacted a law in that every week for as long as they live under my roof, I am going to give the kids a chore and not tell them how to do it. I now realize that before, when I put them to work, I was always hovering over them and stepping in as soon as they started to do something wrong. I never allowed them a chance to think for themselves --- my bad as a parent.
And since I am not wild about this fly lady and her deep cleaning list that Karla so cheerfully gave me, I will be more than happy to pass this shit work on to the kids.....For building character and learning a life skill, of course.
2. Good single parents are incredible.....
The Christmas break has only been about two and a half weeks and I find myself amazed out how hard it is to keep the house clean when the little gremlins are running amok.
As I was doing what seemed like my millionth load of laundry (how much underwear does a person really need?), I began to wonder how a single parent keeps everything in order without going absolutely insane.
As a stay at home dad with a wife to bring home the bacon, my job is manageable; yet occasionally overwhelming. There are just those days when all hell breaks loose and I simply don't get done as much as I feel I should.
So how in the world does a single parent simultaneously play bread winner, homemaker, grocery getter, bill payer, and minion shuttle driver? I'm sure I missed a few things in there, but you get the idea.
There are only twenty four hours in a day......It's not hard to see why single parents, with bags under their eyes, appear to be on the verge of passing out. These poor souls are running themselves ragged. I bet their idea of a vacation is a quiet room, a beer or glass of wine, and no alarm clock.
3. Peeling potatoes can be therapeutic...
Honestly, I think I've been cooped up in the house too long and that my brain is beginning to atrophy.....
One evening Karla had me peel potatoes for a soup she was making. At first I grumbled about it because it is well known that, given my miserable track record, I am not wild about cooking.
But after I peeled my first potato I began to feel myself unwind. I don't know why, but there is something about peeling away the dirty brown skin and revealing the starchy white goodness beneath that I, for some totally odd reason, find very satisfying. Perhaps it is the visual perception of progress?
Or, more likely, that I am completely losing my mind?
I just can't explain it.....I feel at ease when I peel potatoes.
In times of stress there are those individuals that need yoga, expensive therapy, meditation, or pot.
I guess all I really need are a few spuds.
I will have to keep that in mind the next time the Chiefs or Cubs pull a choke job and rip the heart and soul out of me..........(Not that that hasn't happened recently....ahem)
Man.......that would take a lot of potatoes.....
1. The Kids....
When kids can't get outside, the house goes from humble abode to disaster area within minutes of them waking.....Hell, I smirked when I thought about the possibility of the Governor touring the house, declaring a state of emergency, and then applying for federal aid....I wonder how big the disaster recovery team would be?
You know that sad, unfortunate soul that has to follow the horses along the parade route with a shovel and broom? That's kind of how I felt; just walking (moping) around, smile upside down, and picking up huge piles of shit. Except that this parade would not end for weeks.....a most hopeless feeling indeed. In fact, I just threw my hands up in the air for a couple of those days during the break and just said to hell with it --- and then went and played video games.
I decided that I needed to put the kids to work; giving each a chore to do on a daily basis. That's when I found out that if I want it done right I have to be VERY SPECIFIC with my instructions.
I incorrectly assumed that when I asked Toby to load the dishwasher that he would also put detergent in it and turn the washer on.
Nope.....an hour later I opened up door to dry and put away the dishes only to find that they never got washed.
"Oh, you didn't tell me that."
No....I guess I didn't.
When I gave Tera laundry duty, I told her to check the washer and if there was anything in it she needed to switch it over to the dryer and then start a new load.
So Tera did exactly as she was told.
Later, when I opened the dryer to remove and fold the towels, my nostrils were assaulted by the stench of hot vinegar vapors. The towels that I used to clean the house never got washed.
"Oh my God" I gagged, "Tera, these towels are still dirty. Didn't you smell the vinegar?"
"You told me if there was anything in the washer that I needed to switch it over."
So I did.....I just didn't think I would have to tell her to make sure the laundry in the washer had been washed first.
In lieu of this child labor mess, I enacted a law in that every week for as long as they live under my roof, I am going to give the kids a chore and not tell them how to do it. I now realize that before, when I put them to work, I was always hovering over them and stepping in as soon as they started to do something wrong. I never allowed them a chance to think for themselves --- my bad as a parent.
And since I am not wild about this fly lady and her deep cleaning list that Karla so cheerfully gave me, I will be more than happy to pass this shit work on to the kids.....For building character and learning a life skill, of course.
2. Good single parents are incredible.....
The Christmas break has only been about two and a half weeks and I find myself amazed out how hard it is to keep the house clean when the little gremlins are running amok.
As I was doing what seemed like my millionth load of laundry (how much underwear does a person really need?), I began to wonder how a single parent keeps everything in order without going absolutely insane.
As a stay at home dad with a wife to bring home the bacon, my job is manageable; yet occasionally overwhelming. There are just those days when all hell breaks loose and I simply don't get done as much as I feel I should.
So how in the world does a single parent simultaneously play bread winner, homemaker, grocery getter, bill payer, and minion shuttle driver? I'm sure I missed a few things in there, but you get the idea.
There are only twenty four hours in a day......It's not hard to see why single parents, with bags under their eyes, appear to be on the verge of passing out. These poor souls are running themselves ragged. I bet their idea of a vacation is a quiet room, a beer or glass of wine, and no alarm clock.
3. Peeling potatoes can be therapeutic...
Honestly, I think I've been cooped up in the house too long and that my brain is beginning to atrophy.....
One evening Karla had me peel potatoes for a soup she was making. At first I grumbled about it because it is well known that, given my miserable track record, I am not wild about cooking.
But after I peeled my first potato I began to feel myself unwind. I don't know why, but there is something about peeling away the dirty brown skin and revealing the starchy white goodness beneath that I, for some totally odd reason, find very satisfying. Perhaps it is the visual perception of progress?
Or, more likely, that I am completely losing my mind?
I just can't explain it.....I feel at ease when I peel potatoes.
In times of stress there are those individuals that need yoga, expensive therapy, meditation, or pot.
I guess all I really need are a few spuds.
I will have to keep that in mind the next time the Chiefs or Cubs pull a choke job and rip the heart and soul out of me..........(Not that that hasn't happened recently....ahem)
Man.......that would take a lot of potatoes.....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)