Thursday, November 20, 2014

What am I thankful for?....

It's that time of year again; when families get together under one roof to celebrate Thanksgiving.  To show thanks for the blessing of the previous year's harvest by guiltlessly engaging in one of the seven deadly sins as we shove enough calories down our gullet in one afternoon to last us an entire week.

Yes sir, there is no better way to show how thankful you are than to unbutton your pants so that you can squeeze just a few more bites into an already over packed belly.

Next comes the mashed potato coma as you pass out on the couch and sleep through the football game.  (That's okay....the Thanksgiving day games haven't been then same since Barry Sanders retired.)

And just when you think you're belly is about to explode?

"Who wants pie?"

UGH.........I'll be right there.....Got any more cool whip?



Every year on the drive to the family glutton fest Karla asks the same question of us every year.

"So, what are you thankful for?"

Toby: "Uh......."

Tera:  No answer.....She's not paying attention.

Me:  "Shit, I don't know......."

It's almost as if, in Karla's mind, Thanksgiving cannot truly begin until we have all proclaimed what we are thankful for.

I thought once, that if perhaps I didn't say what I was thankful for until after we ate, then the meal didn't count and so we would have to do it over.......No such luck; which is unfortunate because I would have really like to have had another round of stuffing.

So I guess I will use my blog to launch a preemptive "What are you thankful for" strike.


1.  I am thankful that I do not have cable TV.

I know I have said it before....but I am REALLY thankful that Karla and I cut the cable; especially during this time of year when all of the holiday advertisements are in full swing.

Just my humble opinion, but whoever got the bright idea of advertising Christmas before Thanksgiving ---- WAY before thanksgiving --- should be shot. (OK, fine....Just in the leg.  Sheesh)

It's sad, really, to see the story of baby Jesus being swept aside by an overwhelming tide of "Get this" and "Buy that".  Yes sir, that shameless pig known as capitalism seems to get an earlier jump on Christmas with every year.

Fa la la la la --- Kids love gift cards........

Squeal all you want, you greedy swine, I got my family --- it's all I need........All is right with the world.

On a side note ---- does anyone other than me feel like they're committing a crime when they buy a violent video game as a Christmas present?   Karla and I got Toby an X-Box one year and the game Halo....it just didn't feel right.

Silent night......  rat-tat-tat-tat-tat

Oh come all ye faithful ---- BOOM!!!

Christmas music and the sounds of war ----- not a good combination.

I won't be doing that again.

Anyway....The best part of cutting the cable?

"Toby, Tera, what do you want for Christmas this year?"

"Um, I don't know.....Let me get back with you on that."

By far, cutting the cable was one of the best things we ever did.

2. I'm thankful to be (almost) debt free....

By next fall Karla's vehicle will be paid off and, once again, we will be debt free.

I can't begin to tell you just how liberating it feels to not have to worry about debt. No mortgage, no vehicles, no student loans, no credit cards.....No worries.

I also can't stress it enough....If you haven't looked into Dave Ramsey you should.  You may not agree with everything he advises you to do but, make no mistake, he will get you on the right path to, as he likes to put it, "Financial Peace."

I won't lie.....Paying down the debt was the roughest ten years of my life......But it was worth it.

Paying off the debt has also given me another reason to be thankful.....

3. I'm thankful that I will never, EVER, have to the work night shift again......

Some people love the night shift.  Karla's uncle spent his entire working life on the night shift so that he could run his salvage yard during the day --- and he couldn't have been happier.

I was not that lucky......

Long story short, night shift did not go well once Karla and I started having kids.  (Well, I didn't HAVE the kids --- I just stood in a corner waiting for the epidural to rid the delivery room of the horned, fire breathing demon and bring back my wife. In those moments I was wishing that I had the number of a good exorcist on speed dial.)

Things got really rocky for me when the kids started getting older.  With every passing year their little lives got busier and my sleep became less and less.

I have learned first hand how bad your life can get when you can't get enough sleep.  As a night shifter you do everything you can to trick your body clock into thinking it's time to go to bed.  The room darkening shades, the sleepy time tea, disconnecting the phone, wearing ear plugs, etc. etc.

But, over time, none of it works.  The effect it has on you mentally can be devastating.

I have never gone to the doctor and so wasn't officially diagnosed --- but I'm not an idiot.  I was well aware of all the signs for depression.  The last few years on night shift were not fun -- for me or my family.

It got to the point where if I got more than two hours of sleep then it was a successful trip to bed.  I started taking shots of NyQuil to knock my ass out --- but it never really worked.  Sleeping pills worked at first, but even those started to lose their effectiveness.

Occasionally I would collapse on a Friday afternoon and not wake up again until Saturday evening.  Then the vicious two hours of sleep a day cycle would fire up again for another month or so.

I refused to go to the doctor.  I did not want to be put on the drugs that I was sure I was going to be put on to treat my depression.  I saw the medication as nothing more than a temporary, and expensive, fix.  I know deep down that the real problem was the night shift and, once we paid off all of our debt, I was getting the Hell off of nights.

In retrospect, I know I should have went to the Dr.....But that's me thinking now with a clear mind.  When you don't get enough sleep your brain goes into the toilet.  In retrospect, my mood swings were unpredictable and it wasn't fair of me to force my family to ride my emotional roller coaster.  There were times when I was not a pleasant person to be around.  I should have gone to the doctor.  But logic ceases to exist when you are in a horrible state of mind.

It was absolutely insane.  I could be in a good mood one minute and then --- snap --- I would go into an emotional tail spin.  Just about anything could trigger my rage -- or depression.  A sad song or movie, a news article about the human races lack of compassion (thank God those don't come along very often, right).  Sometimes it could be just getting out of bed.  Sometimes it could be something as simple as Karla just saying hello.......

Sometimes ---- I didn't need a reason to be unhappy.  I .....just.....was.....for no apparent reason whatsoever.  My life was a train wreck.

Now let me take this opportunity to stress that during all of this I never spanked either of my kids; that is not how I operate.  But I did have a few good R. Lee Ermey impersonations that I'm not too proud of.

By the time I left my night shift job my two hours of sleep was split up into several parts.  Maybe a half an hour as soon as I got home.  Maybe an hour in the afternoon, perhaps twenty minutes right before Karla and the kids came home.

I felt sick, and got sick, with alarming frequency.  The bags under my eyes felt like a permanent fixture and every winter I got really pale because I didn't get enough sunlight.  It's dark when you get up and go to work --- it's dark when you go home.

You know, now that I think about it, I'm willing to bet that a long walk in the morning sunlight would have done me a lot of good.  It couldn't have done me any worse than when I was laying in my room tossing and turning.....

The only way I stayed even remotely functional was by downing pot after pot after pot of coffee along with lots of mountain dew. Caffeine was the only thing keeping me upright --- that's scary when you consider that I drove a fork lift for a living.  It's a wonder that I never had an accident.

So as soon as we paid everything off I put in my two weeks notice.  I left behind a great paying job.  I could have built up a huge nest egg, a big retirement, a couple of college funds and a gigantic emergency fund.

But it wouldn't have been worth it....I was a basket case and I needed to leave.....immediately.

After I left it took nearly a full year to get to where I could sleep consecutive hours on a daily basis.  I still battle insomnia from time to time, but it's a cakewalk compared to what I went through working nights...

I worked the night shift for almost twenty years........Holy shit, why?

You never really realize how bad a situation is until you get away from it.  The longer I was away from nights the more I looked back and wondered what possessed me to stick with it for so long.  I will never work another night shift job for as long as I live.  Karla and the kids have told me as much.

Once again, thank you Dave Ramsey....I'm in a much better place now.




So.....There you have it.  That's what I'm thankful for.

Actually....I mentioned three things that I'm thankful for.  That should give me a pass for the next few years, right?

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.......















Thursday, November 13, 2014

You're a what?...

In this great melting pot we call America --- wait --- allow me to correct that. We are not really a melting pot at all....

 The goal of the United States of America is, or maybe was, to be a melting pot; "Give me your tired, your poor......"

But we are a lot more like a tossed salad; just layers and layers of different vegetables (yes, I'm aware that a tomato is actually a fruit.....don't be so damn nit-picky....) all piled into one big bowl.  Separate entities presented as whole to the indifferent consumer......

And by and large, while we United States citizens are very proud be American, there is a large portion of us that are also very proud (or at least somewhat aware of) our heritage.


I'm Mexican American --- tomatoes --- (it's use as a food originated in Mexico)

I am African American --- black olives --- (derived from the Oleaceae tree, which is found throughout Africa)

I am Italian ---- Breadsticks -- (originated in Italy)

I am German American --- cheese (actually, no one knows where cheese originated from.  But we can't very well shove a sausage into a salad, now can we?)

I am Irish American -- they brought a potato salad.....(and a fifth) Variety is the spice of life, right?

I am Filipino American -----   ??????????

What?  What is that?  Did you bring, like, a coconut or something?

As long as I could remember no one, with a few minor exceptions, seems to know what a Filipino is.  Hell, I'm Filipino and I barely know.

Here is what I do know:

1. The Philippines is an island chain in the south Pacific.  It you're traveling by way of California, just head for Japan and hang a left.  Better yet, just look at a map before you go.

2. The United States once had an air force base there (that's how Dad met Mom)

3. The yo-yo (which in Tagalog means "come back") was adorned with spikes and used as a weapon in the Philippines.  (I can't imagine this thing worked very well.....yo-yo or spear......hmm....)

4.  People here in the U.S. love Mom's food....

Yeah --- that's about it....Pathetic, right?

So, I have absolutely no reason to get upset when people can't figure out "what" I am.  In fact I find it amusing and turn it into a guessing game.  (No, there are no prizes.  Just all in good fun.)

When I got my first job I was known as the Mexican kid, or the Puerto Rican kid.  When I said I was neither, the people in the department that I was working in went nuts trying to guess my nationality.

The winner of the contest was from another department --- and another Filipino. I think the game would have went on forever if not for her.  But she called me out;  unto which most people looked at me and asked "What is that?"

It wouldn't be the last time that I would be referred to as "that"..... (or what)

I was too young to remember my Uncle George, but I remember Dad telling me once that when visiting with family George has asked where my Mom was.

"Oh, she's back home visiting family in the Philippines," Dad said.

"Oh, I see," said Uncle George, "How far a' drive is that?"

I hear Uncle George was a helluva nice guy.  Maybe he misheard and thought Dad said Philadelphia...   Philippines --- Philadelphia....Yeah, that's pretty close.

When my brother Tony was away at college, a football player from Chicago asked him "what" he was.  When Tony said he was Filipino, the guy just shook his head and said, "I don't even know what that is."

But I think by far my favorite is when I'm misidentified by Native Americans.  I don't know why, they don't look anymore confused than anyone else.  Maybe it has to do with the way they ask.....

"Are you native?"

Me: "Uh, native to what?"

"What tribe are you from/do you belong to?"

Me: "Um, Ilocano?"

There are several different ethnic groups in the Philippines, but this is the only one I know.  I have no idea what "tribe" I'm from.

But as amusing as I find all this, I have lately grown very disappointed that I didn't get to know my heritage a little better.  Or at the very least know some of my native tongue.

The girl who guessed that I was Filipino got very excited and started rambling in Tagolag  as if we had been life long friends.  I threw my hands up in the air and said "stop, I don't know what your'e saying."

She was very visibly disappointed.

Hell, I'm half German with a German last name.  At least when I go to a German restaurant and they start speaking Deutsch I can say...."Nin, nin....No sprechen zee Deutsch."

They, too, are disappointed. But at least I can speak a little bit.

My lack of Filipino knowledge really didn't hit me until Toby and his cousins got older.  His cousin, Trysten, got a tattoo that (if you know what you're looking for) proudly symbolizes his Filipino heritage.

Toby and his cousin Allen occasionally try to speak Tagalog.  It comes in very handy when they don't want anyone other than their grandmother knowing what they are talking about.

Toby is only one quarter Filipino but has more pride in his heritage than I do.  Here is this pale skinned (accept in the summer, he tans very nicely) green eyed kid who is trying to learn Tagalog, has the Filipino flag hanging in his room, wears a Mark Munoz t-shirt, (for those that don't know, Mark Munoz is, by Filipino standards, a giant man and MMA fighter) and is constantly asking when Grandma Aida is going to come over and cook more Filipino food so he can learn how to do it himself.

I really let my son down.......and it kind of bothers me.  (Tera, on the other hand, doesn't appear to give a shit...But, she is only nine.)

Ignorance is not bliss.......it's not.

So come the holiday season, my Christmas wish list will be very short but, unfortunately, somewhat expensive.  I'm going to try to pick up my native tongue through Rosetta Stone.

Maybe if Toby can learn the language and to cook he will be happy.  I guess I'm about to find out.

Oh.....There is one part of my Filipino heritage that I'm very glad I did not inherit.  When Mom was expecting she wanted to name me Cimpriano Esperanza.

Yeah......Can you imagine kindergarten with that name?  I'm also quite certain that I would have caught a lot of flak with that form of identification.  It was hard enough being the stereotypical Asian kid -- skinny, uncombable hair with the cow lick from hell, and nerdy glasses --- Cimpriano would have just assured me a few extra beatings......

Dad, however, opted for a much simpler name.  Tom, let's go with Tom.

I am most certainly good with that......

By the way....anyone want Pak Choy in their salad?  How about okra?












Thursday, November 6, 2014

Odds and Ends...11/6/14



This is Halloween...

Too my surprise, Tera, a fellow chocoholic,  took a page out of Toby's Halloween book and put a vast majority of her candy up for sale.

I wonder what she's planning on doing with the money that she earns?  Aside from a slight obsession with My Little Pony figures she has never been one to want anything.  She hates shopping --- period, has no desire to own a phone, doesn't really play video games, and she has an Itunes card that's been collecting dust.

Take Tera to the library and give her art supplies and she's happy.  I am truly astounded at how low maintenance she is....I'm keeping my fingers crossed that she stays that way.

So now that both kids have ventured into the halloween candy selling business I have to say that I find the differences between the two kids amusing.

When Toby sold his candy, he simply threw everything into a bowl and taped a piece of paper onto it simply stating --- .10 cents or, when he was price gouging his old man -- .25 cents.

Tera, on the other hand, performed a detailed inventory which resulted in a two page itemized list of candies.  Each candy was priced in direct proportion to it's size and uniqueness.  (Example --- Tootsie pops, various flavors = .25 cents.  Tootsie Pop, "Mystery" flavor -- .35 cents)

Toby's bowl of candy was just a hodgepodge that required some digging and sifting in order to find your heart's desire.

Tera's plastic tub of candy was neatly laid out; everything had a place.  I believe she has a good future in warehouse and inventory management.

Toby's bowl was out on the table, but only when Toby was home......Steal from the Halloween Godfather and you're liable to have your hand cut off by one of his hired henchmen.

"Bonasera...Bonasera...What have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully?"

Tera operates on a trust system; which I will unfortunately have to explain to her is not a great way to run her business.   On her little itemized list is the following statement:  "Take candy, leave money according to price."

It's a good thing that her dad has a guilt complex.  I am an honest man --- who, less then a week after Halloween, is already down seven bucks.........Shit.



I am tech savvy.....NO, really....

This week the power went out twice in our humble little hobbit hole and, having files that I don't want to lose on my computer, I decided that I had better save my important documents on a zip drive.

I plug the device into the USB port and, to my dismay, nothing happens.

Too make a long, aggravating story short (I really don't want to remember every troubleshooting technique I used in a vain attempt to fix the problem) I wasted about two hours of my day and could not get the damn device to work.

When Karla came home I vented.  "The mac isn't recognizing the drive.  It's supposed to show up on the desktop and then all I have to do is transfer the files.  I tried everything I could think of and when that didn't work I googled my problem and still came up with nothing.....I think I might have a bad zip drive."

Karla, "Yeah.  That's the USB connection for the wireless mouse."

.............

"oh......"

Well..........Shit.........


Bottomless Pit...

I know I've said it before, but I'm going to say it again......I really miss being able to eat whatever I want.

I miss being able to wolf down, not one, but two super sized big mac meals and still be ready to eat an hour later.

I miss hearing my mom, dad, wife, friends, ask me "How can you still be hungry?"  or "How do you not weigh three hundred pounds?"

Don't get me wrong,  I still have a good metabolism --- but I just can't go nuts like I used to. As a middle aged man I have to use this thing called "discretion"......and that just sucks.

And when I see Toby eat --- I get jealous.

Yesterday he downed, not one, but two Chipotle burritos and then followed it up with ice cream.

Two hours later he downs a few pieces of pizza.......He eats constantly; from the moment he gets up til the moment he goes to bed and, just like his dad use to be, he doesn't gain any weight.

Now, years later, I understand that look of hatred that I used to get from all my female friends as they said, "You make me sick....."


You should write a book....
I've been hearing this a lot lately from family and friends.  To be perfectly honest with you, I'm not sure that I have the discipline or the patience for such an undertaking.

I don't consider myself a writer.  I'm more like an old bullshitter that just happened to sling his bullshit onto a piece of paper.

I don't consider my blog to be work.  It's just a great way to vent, it's my own personal and not so secret diary -- and here is why I feel this way.......Every Thursday, when I sit down behind the keyboard, there is about a ninety five percent chance that I will have absolutely no clue what I'm going to write about -- and today was no exception.

I just go with whatever pops into my head, spend about an hour pounding the keys, read through it once, and then pass it off on Karla for approval.

After Karla goes over it I may, or I may not, run through it one more time before I post it.

That's basically it.  Would that be considered improvisational keyboarding?  Possibly.

So, if you were to consider what it takes to write a book -- things like research, developing a plot, subplot, a list of characters -- yadda yadda yadda.....Man, I just don't know.  I'm not sure that I have the attention span for that kind of detailed undertaking.

I don't know.....Maybe.... Maybe.

I guess I should at least consider it.



Anyway.....I think I'm done here......The question now is do I want another cup of coffee?  I went out for coffee this morning with my brother Tim; but not before drinking the pot I brewed up and having another cup at his house.  All that and one large sea salt caramel latte later and I can't close me eyes.  I don't think I've blinked once in the last couple of hours.

And I swear that I can HEAR colors.....Yes, pink is loud......very loud.

Water....Water is good.  I'll just go with that ......