Life in the Mc Shack

2011-06-17T15:27:00.000-04:00

Liam has been a fan of soccer for years now. His neighborhood team was quite good, and got to the point where they had no competition in their league. Now I've never been a fan of select sports for young kids, but after seeing him start to get bored I allowed him to join the select team being formed with the better kids from the local team.

Liam was a solid player on the team, but as always, he carried a little attitude with him. So of course it wasn't long before his coach called and said he was on the verge of asking him to leave the team. His skills were fine, but he was being mouthy and disruptive in practices. I told coach I would talk to Liam and he would be better. I did, and he was, and he finished out the season.

The next two seasons they played again, but Liam chose to do BB and VB instead of year round soccer. So when Fall came back around Liam found out that there were now two teams instead of one. And that since he hadn't been playing he got stuck on the lower team. The lower team was D6 - pretty much the lowest level of select, and the upper team was D4.

Liam dutifully played his season of D6, and was just about as bored as he was in his old league. He did get the chance to sub on the D4 team, and as soon as he took the field it was obvious that he was one of the top players on the team. At one point one of the new coaches looked to the main coach and asked if they had just found Liam this year. I kept expecting his coach to ask him to join the D4 team, since he is one of the better players, but he never did. It seems he never got over the issues from the previous year.

At the end of the season they were trying to decide what to do for the next year. I found out that they were having tryouts at his soccer club, but I really wasn't sure why. He was already on a team. But I went anyway. As always, Liam was clearly one of the best players on the field. He was really upset at the end because his team didn't score any goals. I told him not to worry - that he stood out even more so because he was on a weaker team. But he didn't believe me.

Sure enough, 2 days later we got a call from the D1 coach (different from the current coach). He said the assistant coaches called for him to come over and watch Liam play and he agreed that he was a D1-level player and wanted to offer him a spot on his team! How many players have you ever heard of who have gone from D6 to D1 in one season? We were super excited.

But then the politics come in. Turns out the reason for the tryouts was current coach wanted to merge his team with D1 coach's team and have 2 D1 teams. After tryouts (or maybe even before) D1 coach decided he didn't want to merge, but that he did want a couple of current coach's players! As you can imagine, this didn't please current coach. So current coach decided to move to another club (Star).

Now does he tell Liam about this in time for Liam to make it to Star tryouts? Of course not - we find out about it after it's done. But on the other hand he wants Liam to play for the team again. And in Star they will again have 2 teams, but this time a D1 and D3. But of course he wants Liam on the D3 team! And we really can't get him on D1 since the Star coach has never seen him play.

We eventually agreed to have him play Star, but I'm just incredulous as to how crazy this has become. Why can't he just be on a decent team with decent competition? Is that really so hard?

Apparently so.

On the plus side, Liam is playing great, and has plenty of options. And if this doesn't work out I'll just take him to another tryout next time!

2011-01-30T16:45:00.000-05:00

Denis had a very sore throat. His Ama (grandmother on Mimi's side) had him gargle with salt water, which helped. Only not for very long. After he left our house to stay at her's for the night he needed something else, something that would last longer. Ama suggested Listerine, but then worried it was a little too strong, and that it might keep him awake. So she went through the cabinets to search for something else.

She came back with a bottle and a smile. She told him he should try this, it's orange so it should be milder. Denis happily took it - he was scared off a bit by her reaction to the Listerine. So he took a good pull of it, began to gargle, ... and spit it out forcefully!!!

It was now that he noticed how it bubbled in his mouth and the weird taste (even though it was in fact Orange flavored). Hmm.

When he could finally talk he asked Ama to see the bottle. It was of course Orange Scented - that was good. But reading more closely he found that insterad of mouthwash it was Hand Soap!! That part not so good.

There is an important lesson in all of this. When Ama gives you something - especially medicinal - READ THE LABEL!

2010-03-18T13:33:00.000-04:00

Today was St. Patrick's day. As always, Mimi made up a little gift set for each of the kids to celebrate. This year they all got 5 gold dollar coins, a mini pot and shamrock seeds, and some Lucky Charms chapstick. They all seemed pretty pleased with their haul.

Seamus, however, decided he wanted a little more.

I saw the loot before I left for the morning, and before the kids were up. So I didn’t' get to see their reactions.

When I got home I noticed there was a little mess in the family room. A bunch of pencils on the ground, someone's gold dollar coins, some other homemade money, a decorated cup and other items. Looking more closely I could see that the pencils were in a bit of a pattern. They all seemed to be set down such that they were pointing at the cup. Next to the cup was a festively decorated sign that read Leprechauns Welcome!

I asked Mimi about it. She said "Oh, that's Seamus' Leprechaun trap!"

What??

Well it seems he figured that ol' Lep had plenty more gold coins and he wanted some of that action. So instead of chasing down a rainbow that didn't currently exist he'd set a trap and have the fairy come to him. Ingenious! And very nicely executed.

I was so impressed that after he went to bed I had Mimi track down our little plastic leprechaun and I put him under the cup.

I wasn't there when he came down in the morning, but I'm dying to hear the reaction!

2009-07-18T12:17:00.001-04:00

Swim Championships

In our house sports are strictly optional. In fact they're a treat. You get to do them if you want to and if your behavior warrants it. Denis has stopped playing soccer, which is just fine by me. Liam was withdrawn from the Bball team one season because his behavior at school was poor.

There is only one exception to this rule - Swim Team. Swim team is a required sport for all the kids. Mimi and I both agree that the kids need to know how to swim. Whether they swim fast or not is up to them. But being on swim team is like having an entire season of swim lessons essentially for free. So we clued into that early on and have the whole family signed up.

At the beginning of the season neither Seamus or Tara could make it across the pool. They were still learning how to stay above the water. And the nice thing about the Evendale swim team is that there's no pressure to compete. If you can't swim, or even if you can, coming to the meets is your call. There was no question for either of the young ones. Since they couldn't make it 25m they wouldn't compete.

And then, 2 weeks back, Seamus had a minor breakthrough. With no obvious progression, he suddenly made it across the pool! You'd expect that he'd go 5m, then 10m, and so on until 25. But no. He went 2m, then 3m, then 25. It wasn't exactly what you'd call swimming, it was doggie-paddle, but he cleared a length. There was much celebration in the house at the news!

Since he made his length Seamus immediately started thinking of swimming in the championships. I think he had ideas of winning something. So he expressed a desire to swim in them. The problem was, to qualify for the championships you have to compete in 2 meets. And the second to last meet of the season was that night. We called the coach and quickly got him onto the roster. He was going to swim in his first meet!

Race time came, and Seamus was very excited! He just knew he was going to smoke everyone. After all, on his second day of playing Bball he was one of the best kids on the team. Why not swimming? As the race began it was clear that there were two camps of 6 year olds. Ones who could actually swim freestyle - with alternate breathing pattern and everything. And those who couldn't. And Seamus finished at the back of the second group. Yup - he came in dead last. He got out of the pool in tears. He said he didn't want to compete any more - he was done.

The last meet of the season was just a couple days later. After going back and forth several times, Seamus again agreed to swim. But this time he did a little better. He still got smoked by the real swimmers, but he came in in front of a couple of the doggie-paddlers. So this time he was just angry instead of crying. And again - no interest in the championships.

Until of course the championships came around, and every kid in the village was talking about them. Of course then he was back on the team! He had qualified, so he was good to go. When his event came you could see he was nervous. But excited also. There were tons of people cheering him on, and he ate that up. There were 43 kids in his event. The top 12 made the finals, but he had no fear of being in that group. He did his normal paddle and amazing came in 34th. He was unhappy until he heard that he beat 9 other kids. Then he was back to his normal happy, cocky self. It's going to be really interesting to see how he develops. I'm guessing eventually he'll be a very solid swimmer.

Denis' story is a bit different. He's been on the team for 3 years. And he puts a very good effort in. But his CP really holds him back. In a 50m event it's not uncommon for kids to finish before he's made the turn. But he has not given up. He's clearly not pleased, but he does see his times improve, and unlike in land-based sports, he's actually started to close the gap on some of his peers. But in 3 years of racing he'd never beaten another kid in a race.

In the championships he swam the 50 free. It's his best event as the leg-kick doesn't require much flexibility. Mimi and I were both there to watch the race. He was in the slowest heat. His seed time was actually almost competitive with the other boys. It was 7 seconds behind one of them and 9 behind another. Denis has really worked on his diving and you can tell. It's every bit as good as most of the other kids. As the race started and they got into the water he was even with 2 of the 3 other boys. That's not uncommon. What happens next is that the other kids quickly pull away and Denis is left alone. Only this time it didn’t' happen.

One boy pulled away, another had a slight lead, but the 3rd boy was just 2 feet ahead of Denis. You could see Denis recognize this, and really start to put his total effort into the swim. This had never happened to him before, and he was using every ounce of energy to stay close. Going into the turn he was just a bit behind, but coming out of the turn he had a lead! A lead! For the first time in his young life. The whole way back the pool every Evendale parent was screaming their lungs out for Denis to push, with his parents screaming loudest of all! The lead ebbed and flowed. Denis would pull away, the other boy would catch up. And so it went all the way to the wall. But in the end Denis touched first!!! He had beaten someone in a race! I couldn't believe it. He had never really even been close before, but he stuck with it and he finally had some success. Having someone to swim with clearly got him to push harder than normal as he bettered his best time by 8 seconds! That's a ton in a 60-second race. I was just so proud of him I can't even explain. It was a wonderful feeling. And for the first time coming out of the pool he really looked happy. It was one of those "life could have ended and I would have been fine with it" moments. Even thinking about it chokes me up.

It's funny, but Liam's swims were, in comparison, almost anti-climactic. There's now two ways about it, the kid's fast - on land and in the water. He's regularly 1, 2, or 3rd place in the dual meets. And with 9 teams in the finals we expected he'd do well. He could have placed in 7 events, but kids are only allowed to swim 4. So he was in 25 free, 25 back, Medley relay, and free relay. He easily made the finals in both his individual events, but his times put him in the B final.

The way they run things is 12 kids make the final. 6 in the A final, and 6 in the B final. If you're in the B final, and you swim the fastest time of all 12 kids, you get 7th place. Basically you're not allowed to move in front of anyone in the A group. I can see why. A kid could sand-bag in the prelims, get into the B group, then sneak out a win without the A group knowing about it. So they go this route. Liam seems to lack motivation in the prelims, but he always brings it in the finals.

So when final time came around, in his free event he came in 2nd in the B group. So he got 8th place. But his time was faster than 2 of the A-final kids. So really he should have been 6th. Similar story in the back. He won his final, and had a time faster than 2 A kids. So really he should have been 5th. Instead he was 7th. Oh well. He still did great, scored a lot of points, and set new PRs in both events.

The relays were more of the same. Most of the Evendale kids are near the top of their races. So they knew they'd be competitive. In the free relay they were right in the think of things, but were missing one of their fast swimmers. So they ended up a solid 3rd. In the medley relay they had one weak link that set them back, but Liam made up ground and they ended up 4th. So in his 4 events Liam for 3rd, 4th, 7th, and 8th. Not a bad day at the pool!

It's funny. They're all three very different kids. But they all had fantastic races, and I'm incredibly proud of all of them as a result. For different reasons, sure, but tremendously proud nevertheless.

2009-05-14T14:20:00.002-04:00

College Prep

Before I get in to the story I need to give a little background to the older demographic. Those of us in our 40s grew up with a set of drinking games that apparently no longer exist (well, outside of retirement homes I guess). We played the good old games like quarters, Mexican, Bullshit, that crazy counting game, etc. I never really considered it, but as each successive generation feels an obligation to break from the past in terms of clothing, music, etc., the same is apparently also true for drinking games.

Today's drinking games are a touch more active. Which I think it great! Nothing more entertaining than active drunks! A few I've become familiar with (by hanging our with the current crop of college students) are baseball, beer pong, and flip cup. They're mostly team games, and involve tossing ping-pong balls into cups of beer, drinking the beer, and (optionally) flipping the cups so they land upside down. I've spent a couple good nights observing these next-generation games at recent parties at the college boy's house. Boatloads of fun!

OK. So the stage is set.

Denis got invited to a sleepover party at the house of one of his 6th grade classmates. The boy's name is Joey, and he's the youngest of 3 (or 4) brothers. I think the oldest brother is in college and there's 1 or 2 in HS. Denis was very happy to be invited, as he and Joey aren't always the best of friends.

I dropped him off around 6 on a Saturday night. I stayed up fairly late just in case there was a phone call, but none ever came. So it appeared he had a good time. I picked him up the following morning after church. Denis was a wreck. According to him they had stayed up all night, not falling asleep until about 7am. And they got up at 10. Rough night!

I asked him what they did. In true pre-teen fashion he gave me a couple grunted answers. Watched movies. Played video games. That didn't last us the whole ride home, so I pressed a bit, What else did you do? Anything else that was fun?

Oh yeah, he said, brightening up: we played marshmallow pong!! Now of course I wasn't familiar with the game, so I asked him to describe it. And as he did the most curious thing happened. It all seemed so familiar. The game is played on a ping-pong table. You pour a bit of soda into several cups and arrange them on your end of the table while your opponents do the same on their side. Then you take turns tossing marshmallows into the cups; and when one goes in the opponent has to drink the soda in the cup.

Is this sounding slightly familiar to anyone? If not, go back and re-read the second paragraph. Yup. They were practicing kiddie-version drinking games!! Isn't that great? You send the boy off to a sleepover and he comes back with some real life skills. I was so proud. But I wasn't nearly as proud as I was happy. That I picked him up instead of Mimi. She would have exploded!

So here's the dilemma. He says he was good at it. Does that mean I should bring him to Bobby's next party? Tough call...

2009-03-31T14:01:00.000-04:00

Not a white person

I had just picked Denis up from his piano lesson and was taking him to his VB match. He was sitting in the front seat next to me. It was a pretty nice day, and he was wearing shorts. As I looked over I noticed that his legs looked really dry. Naturally, being the dad, I just can't let it go.

So I look over and say to him "Damn! Your legs look really dry!" OK, so maybe I said 'Darn.' Generally a volley like this is met with resistance. This time it was more like defeat. The essence of the response I got back was resignation. 'Yeah, they're always dry." Those of you who have kids will recognize this as a strategy to give up in the face of inevitability. Nothing I can do about it pops! Just going to have to live with them being dry.

Naturally I don't buy that. So I ask him if he put lotion on them after his shower in the morning. And of course the answer is no. Too rushed in the morning. This brings me into full dad mode - well of course they're going to be dry if you don't put lotion on them!

Silence follows. He's working on perfecting the surly teen thing, and this is a great time to practice. Eventually he pipes in with a question: "Why don't white people's legs get dry?" At first I thought he had simply mis-worded the question. He of course wanted to know why white people's legs got so dry all the time. I was all prepared to deliver and answer. But then it hit me. He did word the question correctly - he just doesn't consider himself to be White!

I mean it really hit me. I damn near missed my next shift. He doesn't consider himself to be white. And why should he - he's 1/2 White 1/2 Asian. So he's really neither. But he's light skinned and has brown hair, and I guess unconsciously I've always thought of him as white. But he's not. At least he's not in his mind. Wild!

Once I recovered we talked about my friend Chris. Chris is black, and during the winters in Wisconsin would always complain about his legs being ashy. And that every race gets dry skin, but the darker your skin tone the more obvious it is.

So I think I recovered OK. But the whole time I'm thinking: Denis isn't White! Who knew?

2009-03-17T17:01:00.000-04:00

Those of you who know the family history know that I am not a fan of children skipping grades. I just don't see the benefit. Sure, they get to college a year or two faster, but it doesn't make them smarter. And in many cases they're not mature enough to handle the environment and suffer as a result. I offer by way of example my oldest brother (skipped 2 grades) and oldest sister (skipped one grade). After the experiences with those two my parents did not allow the rest of us to skip. Thank God!

I have passed this philosophy into my parenting. I do not try to teach my kids topics ahead of when they learn them in class. If I did, when the class learned the topic they'd be bored. And would likely misbehave and get into trouble. So again; what's the point?

But try as I might to hold them back, somehow the slippery buggers get away from me. It appears that this has just happened with Seamus.

It wasn't malicious or spiteful learning (is there such a thing?) He just happened to be in a room when the older kids were doing some math exercises. And he couldn't help but overhear what they were doing. This is how he learned to add. Mandy was working with Tara, drilling her on basic addition. She's in 2nd grade, so this is what she should be learning. It wasn't sticking right away, so they went over it several times. Think of Tara as Teflon when it comes to math and Seamus as glue. Gorilla glue.

Now Seamus is in kindergarten. I don't think they're even talking about basic addition. It's more numbers, number line etc. The fact that he picked up addition wasn't a big concern as he would get that instruction soon enough. But it's gone just a bit beyond that.

Mandy came home today and announced that she was quizzing Seamus on addition facts in the van. OK. How'd he do? Well, she was impressed that he could do the problems from his seat in the van. No numbers in front of him, it was all in his head. Again I discounted it, as I figured he had memorized the single number addition chart.

No, Mandy says. It wasn't single number addition. "Really?" I asked? "He's on double-digit addition already? Wow. That is advanced for kindergarten." No again.

He's doing triple digit addition. In his head. And getting them right. As a kindergartener.

Holy cow! Mimi can't do that! I am just going to get myself mentally prepared now for behavioral problems in the next few years. Like there wouldn't have been enough of those regardless.

Good with the bad I suppose.

2009-02-02T15:32:00.000-05:00

Fun with Facial Hair

I am lazy over the Winter Holidays. Well actually I'm lazy all of the time. But I really go all out (if that can be said about laziness - it's sounds too active but you get the idea) over Christmas. One of my lazy rituals is that I stop shaving. I shower and all. I'm clean. I just don't shave,

When the holidays are over and it's time to be moderately presentable and go back to work I do try to tidy the facial hair up a bit. I trim it here and there. But it's hard for my to jump back in to daily shaving, so I keep a 'beard' for a while.

I use quotes because anyone who has seen the sparsely populated follicles across my face will tell you I'm simply not capable of growing a true beard. But I let the hair grow anyway and hope that someday it will fill in. It hasn't yet, but I've only been doing this 20 years now. One must show some patience.

After it's grown as much as it's going to I try to have a little fun with it by removing it in stages. The sideburns generally go first as they are just awful. They never fill in and it looks like I started to shave on each side and gave up after one stroke. So to save us all a little embarrassment I take that off early.

I'll lose a bit of the excess off the neck next. I keep just enough so I can continue to get by with an electric razor every couple of days, but otherwise trim it back a bit as it generally looks pretty bad too.

The next stage is the goatee. I keep everything about moustache-wide down through the chin and just a bit underneath. This - well, in my humble opinion (which I should point out is not shared by my wife) - actually looks decent. So I stick at this stage for a few weeks.

This year when I made it to the goatee stage I announced it to the world via my FaceBook status. Really have to learn to be more careful about that. I phrased it as "Denis touched razor to cheek for the first time in 5 weeks. Smooooth! [And no cuts]."

Of course my friends just couldn't let that one go without comment (and let's be honest. I phrased it in exactly that way so as to generate some comments. I do try to entertain). What I didn't expect is that the first comment would come from my business partner in Geneva. That's cool, because Andy's a good guy. But what worried me was how little it takes for some of my VB friends to get rolling. Here's how the exchange went:

Andy - I dearly hope you're talking about your face.

Jonesy (from VB) - I don't know you Andy, but I like the way you think! I always pictured Denis pretty much hairless anyway

Andy again - Hi David. Who'd have thought the McGrath's hairy arse would become a topic for international debate? I must admit I haven't given his naked body as much thought as you clearly have, but if in your head he's nice and smooth, then who am I to disagree?

Luckily (very luckily!) they found new posts to respond to and let it lie there. That's a combination I don't want to encourage too much!

Over the weekend I decided it was time to trim it back again. I had never done the "connected Fu Manchu" before. Essentially a moustache, then straight down on the sides, to connecting underneath by a thin patch. I thought it would look kinda cool.

I was wrong! Oh Lord it looked horrible. So after trimming out the middle I quickly lost the under-chin connection. It looked like a training bra for an Amish beard. That had to go. But after it went I noticed that the downspouts of the remaining Fu were terribly uneven. And in attempting to drive some equality I ended up killing them altogether.

So now I have a moustache.

I did all this while everyone else was at the boy's BB games. So they had a nice surprise waiting for them when they got home. Liam was first. "Ewww" quickly followed by "Yuck" was the verdict. No surprise there. But the question that followed did catch me off guard. After looking it over and deciding that yes, he in fact didn't like it at all, Liam looked at me with a puzzle on his face. "Dad" he asked "when did you grow the moustache?"

When did I grow it? Now that's an odd question given the fact that I'd been sporting a goatee for 3 weeks. Near as I can tell he got used to the goatee - that was just how dad looked. And in his mind it was just one thing. All together. And that was gone. So clearly in the span of 2 hours I had shaved off the goatee and grown a new moustache!

How's that for hormones?

Looking back I'm really glad it doesn't work that way - I'd be shaving every hour!

No pictures this time, maybe next year!

2009-02-02T15:03:00.001-05:00

Basketball!

It's Winter. That brings a lot of indoor time with it. But in the last couple years the kids have decided another sport was in order so they're all playing basketball. ALL of them. Even 6-year-old Seamus!

I think Tara is playing too. She keeps telling me she's on a team. But I've yet to take her to a practice or a game yet. So I'm not certain what the deal is there. This is the kind of attention you get in a 4-child household. You want undivided attention then go be an only child somewhere!

Anyway. Basketball. Both Denis and Liam play a brand of BB that would at least be recognizable. They dribble, pass, shoot, etc. Sure they take free throws from a spot a foot or more closer to the basket, but that's about it. Essentially the same game you see on TV.

For Seamus? Well. What he plays is about as close to basketball as throwing a tennis ball around the community pool is close to water polo. In other words not so close at all. First of all, dribbling is clearly optional. Some kids try to give it an effort - usually with two hands at a time - and that's not so bad. But other kids forget it completely. They just pick the ball up and run! Secondly; the ball. It's about the size of a decent melon. And about the same color come to think of it! It's small enough that your average 5th grader could palm it. What else? Lesse, Thirdly there's the defense. You're familiar with a "3 second" violation? When the offense camps out under the basket for too long? When in the bizarro world of Kindergarten BB the defense is required to camp out! They can't come outside the box to defend at all. So you end up with 5 kids all acting like chained up junkyard dogs. If any kid is crazy enough to venture near the box with the ball they jump at him gnashing their teeth as he/she stops just outside their reach. Oh, and finally the basket is lowered 2 feet to 8 feet.

So in other words it's about an much entertainment as anyone could possibly stand at 9am on Saturday morning. I go to the game tired and grumpy and leave with a huge grin on my face.

Seamus joined the team late. They were already halfway through their season when I relented and let him join. I'm not really a fan of organized sports at that age, but after a month of snow anything that gets him out of the house and lets him run around and burn off steam is a good thing! So he's never played before, and the team is already fully formed. No worries according to the coach. He'll fit right in.

I picked him up after the first practice, and the coach happily announced to me that (of the 10 players they had) Seamus was one of the top 4! This was a little bit of a surprise to me. I know he's a mean soccer player, but for his first practice that is pretty impressive. Coach went on to tell me that he made this assessment by watching him shoot. Until Seamus arrived they only had 3 kids who could get the ball all the way up to the rim. And Seamus can do that just fine. So Voila! He's in the top 4!

This last weekend everyone had games. Mimi and I split duties. I took Seamus to the early game, and she took Liam and Denis to the later ones (so I could stay home and work on taxes - yay).

It was a banner weekend for the McGrath boys. Seamus' team (though they don't keep score) won handily, and Seamus scored his first ever basket! Liam's team lost a close battle, 24-22, but Liam scored as well. He probably scores in 1/3 of the games. So that's pretty cool. Denis' team won easily also, and while Denis very rarely scores (gets that from Dad!) he picked up a point in this one! There was much rejoicing! Next weekend will bring new excitement to be sure, but for now I'm just going to enjoy one weekend of success for all my boys!

2009-01-25T15:00:00.000-05:00

Where am I?

I am convinced that sometimes the kids just forget which environment they are in and as a result slip up. Liam in particular is bad with this. He'll regularly come up with a comment at the dinner table that is well suited for his 4th grade classmates on the playground (as they try to impress each other with how rude they can be). So I just remind him where he is and who he's speaking to and we get back on track.

I don't know if I'm pleased or sad, but it appears this phenomena bleeds over into school as well. Liam had an assignment to write a letter to Santa. The front is beautiful. Standard cute kid writing to the big guy. But when he turned the page over he clearly lost his focus and forgot where he was.

He starts by asking for 3 presents. And that's not bad - I think every kid puts that in. But I'd hazard a guess that most kids don’t put in the next part. And I quote:

"If you don't, I'll show the president my picture of you drunk, standing on Rudolph, with a bottle of beer on your head! This is serious!"

To her credit, the teach very nicely circled that part in red and wrote "Threats are no part of a friendly letter."

No shit! No punishment for this one, but a lot of disappointed head shaking.

2009-01-19T12:14:00.002-05:00

Patience

One of the things that's always confounded me about the kids is their level of patience. Specifically their incredibly varied levels of patience. In some situations if you tell them that something won't take place for 25 minutes they'll act like it's the end of the world - they can never possibly wait that long.

And then of course by the time they're done whining about it the time is up.

But on the other hand they can perform tasks that could make a piece-work factory floor guy go mad with the repetitions. Like when Denis was maybe 3 and he 'rode' his tricycle up the driveway. He wouldn't get off the bike and walk it up. He wanted to stay in the seat. And so he reached his little legs forward, pulled the bike up 6 inches, lifted up to pull forward again and lost 4 of the 6 he gained, and then did it again. Must have taken him 45 minutes to make it 30 yards. But it didn't bother him one bit. It drove me crazy to watch him, but he didn't seem to mind at all.

Liam had one of these events over the summer. The larger McGrath clan went up to Michigan Adventure amusement park for a day. Everyone had a great time. In the middle of a hot afternoon I gave Liam a 20oz. water bottle and asked him to fill it up. This was a standard single-use screw top water bottle: Absopure, Poland Springs, something like that. Well he runs off with the bottle to refill it.

There's a lot going on so I don't even realize how long he's been gone until he comes back with the bottle filled up. It must have taken him 30 minutes, and the fountain is all of 1 minute away from our spot. I asked him what he'd been doing and he answered that he had been filling up the bottle. And sure enough, the bottle was full. OK, whatever. We're on vacation and I'm in no mood to start a fight. We drink the water pretty quickly (much faster than it took to fill it up!) and this time I decide that I'll fill it up.

So I walk off to the fountain and immediately run into problems. The shape of the bottle and the curve of the fountain are clearly incompatible. I can cram the neck of the bottle on it, but can only get it to fill about 20% that way. I look around for another fountain - there isn't one. I look for a spigot or some other source of water - none to be found. Now I'm really confused. How did Liam fill it up? I drank my fill from the fountain and returned with a mostly-empty bottle of water for the family.

When I got back I tracked down Liam. I asked him where he filled up the bottle. And of course he points to the fountain I've just come from. So then I ask him - Well how is it that you were able to fill it up, it doesn't fit? Oh, he says, I noticed it wouldn't fit right away, so I used the cap. What do you mean, I say, you put the cap into the stream of water to shoot it into the bottle? No, he replies, I'd just fill the cap with water and pour it into the bottle.

I'm sure my brain simply didn't comprehend what he was saying the first time he said it. It was too outrageous. When I finally understood I was no less astounded. The cap must hold 1/4 oz. or less. He likely never filled it completely. And every time he poured I'm sure he spilled some. It must have taken him filling the cap 150-200 times to get the water bottle full. And yet that's what he did. While at an amusement park full of fun rides. With no complaint and no bragging. He in fact didn't even seem to think anything about it. I asked for it to be filled, this was the only way to fill it, and so he filled it up.

150 thimble-sized caps worth. Amazing.

What I want to know is where is that patience when it's time for piano lessons?

2008-12-07T16:33:00.001-05:00

Not Reading

Tim and Kathy were over with Declan last night. Kathy was reading to Tara (good luck coming to our house and not getting caught by Tara for at least one book!) She was reading a Dora story. And of course they always sprinkle a little Spanish in to make it educational. Like putting Vitamin C in a Little Debbie Nutty Bar makes it nutritious.

Anyway, Kathy reads the word Abuelo. Now Tim is fluent in Spanish, so he asked Seamus if he knows what it means. Seamus says sure - it means Grandmother!

Tim is surprised, and asks where he learned that. In Spanish class he responds. Really? You have a Spanish class he asks? No! Says Seamus. He's just messing with him.

Kathy keeps reading and keeps throwing out words. Of course Seamus knows very few. But they fall into a routine.

Eventually as Kathy asks about a word Seamus moves towards the book. Of course Kathy pulls it away from him so he can't cheat. This goes on for a while, and I can tell that Seamus is confused. But it keeps playing out this way.

Finally you can see that Seamus understands what is happening, and yet he still doesn't understand it. That is he knows she's hiding the book from him, he just doesn't know why. So when he can't take it anymore he runs up to Kathy (who is hiding the book) and says "But Aunt Kathy - I don't know how to read!" Oh! Right!

The look on her face was priceless.

2008-11-20T16:50:00.002-05:00

Sleeping arrangements

We have a 4 bedroom house. Mimi and I get one, and the other three go for the kids. For the longest time Denis and Tara have shared a room. The reason behind this is they're the best sleepers. They both go to bed easily, and they both sleep long and deep. So matching them seemed a smart idea. That left Liam with his own room (the smallest one) and Seamus with his own (the largest one, previously the nursery).

Denis finally started making noise about having his own room about a year ago. I didn't pay any attention - they always need something to complain about! But after he mentioned it a few times I figured it was time. He is the oldest, and he's shared a room for 6 years. And Tara's the only girl, so presumably at some point she's going to need her own space.

So I made the case to Mimi that Liam and Seamus should bunk together (Liam actually has a bunk bed in his room!) and Denis and Tara should get their own places. Resistant to change as always she initially said no, but eventually she saw the light and agreed.

Step one was testing out the new arrangement. I mean, could Liam and Seamus, our two, um, 'active' kids co-exist in the same room? That was far from guaranteed! So we moved Seamus into Liam's room to give it a shot.

We were pleasantly surprised when it seemed to work pretty well. Liam really does love being an older brother, and Seamus is a pretty social boy. So putting them in together far exceeded our expectations.

The next step was moving Tara into her own space. We were still a bit tentative, just testing it out. So instead of making the big move (putting bunk bed and furniture into the large room) I just moved Tara to the old nursery. She seemed happy about it, and took to the new room right away.

Tara goes to bed earliest, and she was immediately asleep in her new room. An hour later it was time for Denis to go to bed. So he went back to his old room and laid down to sleep. Only he didn't sleep. About 30 minutes later a sheepish-looking Denis appeared in front of me.

"I'm lonely" he said. This was new. He's never voiced that concept before. "Do you want me to stay with you for a bit?" I asked. "No." I was initially confused, but then it came to me. "Do you want me to move Tara back into your room?" "Yes."

I just about cried.

I mean, the kid never ones says a word about Tara. Nothing good or bad. Most times it's like she's not even there. But I guess there is some love there.

So I went into her new room, picked her up (yikes she's getting heavy!) and brought her into her bed in their old room. And they slept like they always do.

The next night again Tara went to sleep in the nursery, and again Denis asked for her to be moved. Finally on the third night I just put her back in the old room (I was getting tired of hauling her around!) And that's where they've stayed since.

It's been about 5 months since the initial move and return. And finally just yesterday Denis asked about having his own room.

You'll excuse me if I don't rearrange the furniture just yet.

2008-11-20T11:19:00.002-05:00

Now *that's* a good boy!

I came home from work last night totally beat. The combination of a win in the competitive VB tournament, a late-night bar celebration, and an early morning phone call with my global team was a trifecta I didn't just bounce back from. So by the time I got back from a full day at work I was asleep on my feet.

To cap it off, Mimi was at a work dinner, so it was up to me to feed the monsters. Like any good dad in this situation I called for a pizza! Once my family obligations were out of the way I headed for my lazy-boy. Liam asked me if we could play pool. I felt guilty, but I said no. I was too tired (I'll make it up to him today).

I grabbed the remote and flipped on some women's college VB.

At this point Denis piped up. I expected some kind of request. Can I do this? Can I get your help with that. Something that would require me either saying no or moving (and the smart money would be on saying no).

But it wasn't that kind of request at all. What he did say was "Dad - can I get you a beer?"

He has never made that offer before. But he knew I was beat, and that I just wanted to kick back and relax. And he knows when I'm just done and relaxing that often (well, occasionally) I'll grab a beer. I didn't really want one at that point, but how could I turn that offer down? That unsolicited offer. I couldn't.

"Thanks Denis. Yes, please."

And somehow it just tasted better than normal.

2008-11-17T14:16:00.001-05:00

Liam's team has had quite a run this season, but the season came to a close Saturday afternoon. As most of you know, they made it to the state tournament. Something like 40 teams qualified for the tournament. They had one game last week, then up to 4 games this weekend.

I still can't understand why last week's team didn't show for the game. That's a little crazy. To qualify then not show up. I'm thinking the coach got the game time wrong. Oh man he must be getting some kind of hate form the parents on that squad! I am glad I'm not in his shoes!

In any case, Liam's team made it to week two. You'll also recall that right before the forfeit game Liam sprained his ankle. He was so thrilled when they won; thinking that for sure he'd be healed by the time the next weekend came around. I'll save the suspense. It wasn't. When Saturday came he was still wrapped up. He was off his crutches, but was limping noticeably. He was so sad.

But if he was sad the rest of his team was crushed. They were sure they'd have him back. And they're no dummies. They know who the top players are. And when they found out he wasn't going to be able to go there were some long faces.

The sad faces were nicely matched by the weather. The weekend dawned cold and rainy. Essentially the worst possible weather. I actually prefer 28 and snow to 37 and rain. But no, I got the latter. It's sometimes worth it to sit in that weather and see your child do well. But when your son isn't even playing? That's no fun!

And yet there we were. Liam cheering on his team, me just taking up space, on a cold and windy Saturday.

Their first game was at 11:45. We got there about 11:35. Plenty of time! I got a parking space in front of the field they played at the previous week and sat and waited. When I didn't see them I called the coach's wife to ask if we were on the right field. No answer. I started to convince myself that game time was 12:45, and that I had gotten us there early for warm-up time. But then that didn't work either as there were no other kids from Liam's team warming up. Hmmm. I called the coach's wife again - and this time I got an answer. Yup - it is 11:45. But a different field. Damn! Well at least Liam wasn't playing! He would have killed me.

We finally got there towards the end of the 3rd period. There was no score. So I stood in the rain and watched as Liam tried to motivate his team. The 4th period started, and while his team had some great chances they couldn't convert them. And so the game ended in a 0-0 tie. But of course it didn't *end* like that. It couldn't. Someone had to go on. So they went on to penalty shots.

They grabbed 5 kids from each team and each of them, alternating by team, got a chance to convert a penalty kick. Our first one missed high. Then theirs missed too. Our next one missed, but they scored. 0-1. We both missed on the next round. The 4th round we scored and they didn't. 1-1. The 5th and final round we missed, and then our goalie made an amazing stop on a great shot. So we again tied, 1-1.

But of course it can't end on that. So they got the next 3 players from each team (they only play with 9 on the field, and they take all of the non-goalie player into penalty kicks, so that leaves 8, which they split up 5 and 3). So they get the next 3 and try it again. And again we get behind, but again pull even (but not ahead). So once more it ends 1-1. And the game isn't over yet.

So we go to a third round of kicks, with the original 5 players. This time we got off to the fast start. We got up 1-0. Then two misses. And then 2-1 in round 3. From there neither team scored and we won! Oh joy! So now I can't go home and instead have to come back for another 90 minutes in the rain. Lovely. On the other hand the kids were ecstatic, and it's impossible to be grumpy in that situation.

So Liam and I ran off to get some lunch. As we walked in to Wendy's I noticed my blue jeans. They were a nice pale blue in front, and a lovely dark blue in the back. Now I didn’t recall buying them two-toned. So I looked again and realized that the entire back on my pants were soaking wet. Ugh. Not comfortable. At this point I vowed to take a nice long bath when I got home. I told Liam and he looked at me incredulously. At his age baths are still a form of punishment for having too much fun. So he can't imagine someone taking one of purpose. But I was already picturing it. I finally smiled.

We got our lunch and got back to the fields. Liam had only brought a light jacket, and I happened to have an extra in the car, so I gave it to him to wear. And as chance would have it the jacket he got was my old HS letter jacket! The one with State Champs written across the front. He looked at it and thought it was a good sign. Several of his teammates commented on it. Liam told them that his dad's team won their state championship. "In soccer?" they asked. You could see them picturing me as a 9 year old dribbling up the field! Too funny. No, Liam said, some kind of running. Oh well, I guess my 25 year old exploits have somehow failed to impress the next generation.

Liam's team was now in the top 8 in the state. Pretty impressive, especially since they were missing their #2 player and best defender. They started the next game, and early on in the 1st period got behind one goal. I could see Liam seethe. I knew he was thinking that if he had been in they wouldn't have scored. And he was probably right! But he wasn't in, and they did score.

The rest of the game was a slug-fest. A few opportunities on both side, but no more goals. Eventually they lost 1-0. There were sad faces, and some tears (including Liam), but the parents were thrilled. And not just because they didn't have to come back to these cursed field the next day! They were amazed that there little boys had gone so far and done so well. There was a lot of pride there, even in a loss.

And I am certain they'll be back next year. All I have to do is keep Liam healthy! Wish me luck!

2008-11-12T17:48:00.000-05:00

Seamus the 5-year-old soccer god

I just wanted to take a minute to recap Seamus' soccer season. As you know from my note back in July. Seamus had an amazing year on the field. I think it is safe to say that every parent of a 4-6 year old child who plays soccer now knows who Seamus is. And mostly for good reasons.
His team didn't lose a game all season. I think they played 10 times. They scored something like 60 goals in total. Pretty good for only 10 games.

Oh yeah, and Seamus scored over 50 of the 60 goals.

His coach came over the other night to drop off his and Tara's trophies. While he was there we reminisced about the season. He was telling me a story about the last game. It's a very relaxed league, and the coaches work together to make sure everyone has a good time. So at one point, after Seamus had scored his normal 4 goals in a single quarter, his coach put him in goal. And naturally as soon as he went in there the other team couldn't find the net. Finally the opposing coach asked our coach to pull Seamus from goal so his kids would have a chance to score. Our coach answered, sure, but where can I put him? If I put him on defense your kids won't get near the goal. And if I put him on offense your kids won't see the ball. And I have to let him play - he's already sat out a full quarter! So he stayed in goal. And the other team didn't score.

Just last night Seamus was talking about the season. And when it came to the overall results he said "I won every game." But Seamus, don't you mean your team won every game? "No." he said "I won them." I wanted to say he was a part of a team, that he can't win without his teammates, etc. And some day that will be true. But for today the honest truth is that he probably would go undefeated as a 1-man team. Crazy!

This is his last season of instructional play (thank goodness). I am very interested to see what he does on the bigger fields with the bigger kids. You can bet I'll be bringing my camera!

2008-11-09T14:57:00.001-05:00

It's Fall.

The way you can tell this is that it's impossible to see the lawn any more for the carpet of leaves covering it.

This does not bother me. You see, I've got a fairly large yard. So I have one of those riding lawn mowers to cut the grass. And a few years back, my old college roommate Chris Brown (aka CB, aka Cool Breeze), who had a lawn service company at the time, gave me an amazing tip. "Just put the bagging attachment onto your tractor" he said. "It'll suck the leaves up like a vacuum." Best lawn care advice I ever got! On top of bringing up all the leaves it also mulches them, so they take less space. What a deal!

I've been doing this for the last 5 years and I love it. It takes what used to be an incredibly tedious job and makes it just another day mowing the lawn.

Well it was Saturday, and the leaves were out there waiting, so I prepared to go vacuum the lawn.

As I was getting my clothes together little Seamus came up. He was very excited! "Dad!!" He said. "The lawn is covered in leaves" [I knew that part] "Let's make a leaf pile we can jump in!"

Damn!

What do you say to your 5 year old? "Sorry son - I've found a much more efficient way of dealing with the leaves that doesn't result in leaf piles"? Not that I wasn't tempted. But I just couldn't do it.

So instead of riding on the tractor for 45 minutes I spent 2 hours raking leaves so the kids could jump in them for 3 minutes.

And it was worth it.

Go figure.

2008-11-09T14:43:00.000-05:00

Liam's continued soccer success

Liam has had another great season of soccer. His team has again done extremely well. They actually had a loss this time around in league play. They lost 4-2 to St. Mike's. But they didn't have their top goal scorer and they had their weakest goalie in the net. So they were caught on a less that stellar day and lost.

They got to play St. Mike's again in the finals of the league tournament. This was a high stakes game. The winner would go on to the state tournament. Liam's team was totally fired up. And they struck quickly and decisively, scoring fast to go up with a 3-0 lead. They did allow some goals, but finished the game 4-2.

Which meant that they were on to the state tourney.

They made it last year as well. But the weather was terrible. They had one game called for weather. Another one delayed then finally cancelled. When the second week came around they finally got the chance to play and lost to the previous year's tournament champion. They had higher hopes for this year.

Yesterday was Saturday, and their first game was today, Sunday. Liam was playing in the yard with the neighbor boy. They were climbing trees, running around, the usual boy stuff. I was raking leaves. Eventually Seamus came up and told me that Liam was hurt.

Kids at that age simply haven't developed the gift of understanding severity. "Liam is hurt" could mean anything from he has a scratch on his cheek to his legs are no longer attached to his body. And I have a policy of not overreacting when the kids get hurt. I think they take their cues on concern from their parents. And when the parents freak out they do as well. So I don't freak out. In this case I didn't even stop raking leaves!

Eventually I see Liam hopping in my direction. Oh shit. My first thought is of the game today. He is not looking good.

He makes it to me and I ask him what happened. His answer is the same as always - a distracted "What?" like I had awakened him from a nap. Um, you can't walk, you hopped to me on one leg, what the hell do you expect me to ask you?

Well he was chasing his buddy, who ran down the patio stairs of the neighbor's house, slipped, fell, and rolled his ankle. Not good.

I got him inside and took a look at it. It was already huge! Really not good. I immediately put ice on it. I left the ice on for 30 minutes, and then compressed it in an ACE wrap. Later in the evening we iced it again.

Around bedtime I asked him how it felt. He still couldn't even put weight on it. It was then that it finally struck him - there was no way he was going to be able to play today. He was devastated. I guess he just assumed that 15 or so hours would be plenty for a badly sprained ankle. I wanted to tell him "Wait 'til you're 40, it'll be 15 days!" But I didn't. He was pretty distraught already.

Morning came and he still couldn't do anything. I got out the crutches, iced him again, and went off to the fields with him. Even though he couldn't play I wanted him to be able to cheer his team on. I had called his coach the previous night to let him know the scoop. Liam is one of the best defenders, so he'd need to re-think his lineup well in advance.

We got to the field late - the traffic was incredible. There is no good way to get 20 teams worth of kids/parents/grandparents into a park smoothly. When we finally did show up the game hadn't started yet. And why hadn't it started? Because the other team hadn't shown up yet!! Liam was beside himself with joy. He was so worried they'd lose because he couldn't play. But with no competition that wasn't going to be an issue.

We hung out for 15 minutes and they finally called the game. So they will advance. They'll play up to 4 games next weekend. With any luck he'll be healed by then. I'm not 100% sure he will be. I'm going to keep icing and wrapping every hour to maximize his chances. At this point all I can do is keep my fingers crossed. But (give his bad luck) he's been pretty lucky so far!

2008-11-05T14:26:00.001-05:00

Denis (no longer) the grouch
For about the last 6 months (year? 18 months?) Denis has been a realy pain. Nothing is ever perfect and all he would seem to focus on were the parts that weren't perfect. Seriously. We could have the world's best day. We could do 20 awesome things. And if there was one shitty one in there it would be a bad day. It was very frustrating. He was turning into a moody teen at age 10/11.

And then someone flipped a switch. Still don't have any idea what it was. Did he have a near-death experience and not tell me about it? Seems unlikely. But then the attitude change was pretty unlikely as well. So who knows.

Lately the guy has just been a joy to be around. He's more physical - he gives hugs when a year ago he wouldn't. He helps out around the house. Sometimes without being asked. He doesn’t grumble much at the tasks he used to complain about previously. I am loving it!

And I *really* wish I knew what brought the change one. I'd like to market it!

2008-09-06T16:11:00.001-04:00

Denis and Death

There has been a lot of death hovering over the house lately. Most of it not horrific, but it's always a tough topic. Mimi's sister's dog had to be put down recently. Denis' pet fish died. And Mimi's father has been very ill and has recently come out of a rough heart surgery.

Each one individually is a tough thing to have. Together they got to the point where they were weighing heavily on Denis' mind. I didn't really have any idea that it was affecting him until after getting out of the shower the other night he was waiting for me. He was very quiet and subdued. I asked him what was going on and he choked out "I'm scared of death!"

That's a tough one! What kind of answer do you give an 11 year old on that topic? I tried the "everything lives and everything dies" approach with little success. I tried the "You'll see everything again in Heaven" approach. That worked a little better when I confirmed that yes, his fish will be waiting for him there.

In the end I think he just realized that I didn't have the perfect answer on this one, but that talking it out made him feel a little better. I am glad he felt better, but I have to say I feel like I failed him a bit on this one.

Anyone else have any ideas?

2008-09-06T16:10:00.000-04:00

Mile Swim

Denis went on a scouting trip with the rest of his troop for an entire week over the summer. It was really his first ever time away from home (really far away from home) without either parent. He did very well. He told me later that he was a little homesick for home, but it wasn't until the day they were driving back!

While he was there the troop did a ton of badges and advancements. And on top of that they did one major event - the mile swim.

Now as you all know, Denis has a small disability that makes things like swimming very challenging for him. He is on the pool swim team, but in 3 years of racing the only position that he's every finished in was last. So he clearly has no speed whatsoever.

What he does have is determination! He decided that he was going to do the mile swim. I'm glad I wasn't there. I probably would have tried to talk him out of it. But I wasn't, so he went on with it.

And against my prediction he finished. He was one of only 2 11 year olds who finished. It took him 75 minutes!! I think that amazed me even more. Being in the water for 75 minutes gives you a ton of opportunity to quit. But he didn't quit.

I don't know that I could keep my head above water for 75 minutes. I am so proud of him!

2008-09-06T16:09:00.000-04:00

Poker fascination

I guess it's because it's all over TV these days, but Liam has become completely fascinated with poker. Not that we've ever watched it ourselves in our house. But it seems you can't get away from it in some restaurants.

Specifically he loves Texas Hold 'em. Now I grew up playing poker with my broithers and the boys in the neighborhood. But I have never played that game before. So that made it kind of fun. He was able to teach me something, which I'm sure for him was a nice change of pace from being constantly instructed by me!

After he learned he decided he simply *must* have a poker set of his own. A couple hundred clay chips, a couple decks of cards, and a case to carry it all in. I thought it was crazy - why all the ornamentation? Just play the game! But he really wanted it.

I certainly wouldn't buy it for him, but he had saved enough allowance money to get it. So he did. And unlike so many other things he buys, he's actually stayed interested in it. He brought it on our family vacation. Not just a desk of cards - the whole case! And we used it several times.
So I guess there is something about letting him get things on his own.

Amazingly he knows what he likes better than I do!

2008-08-21T15:08:00.001-04:00

Calling Peter Pan

Last night Mimi and I were off playing VB again (and winning the league tournament, I might add - yay for us!) When we got home, Lima (9) had the following story for us:

Tara (7) is obsessed with Peter Pan. She reads the book, listens to the tapes, and wants to see the movies. She is totally in love. At various times she's told me she's going to marry John, Michael, and Peter. Too cute.

Last night while we were away it got to be more than cute. She decided she needed to speak to the characters. It seems she got every worked up about it, on the edge of being hysterical! She was yelling and crying and making life hard for everyone home.

So Liam got an idea. He told the babysitter to go out into the garage with his (the sitter's) cell phone. Then he got out phone out and called the garage. He handed the phone to Tara and told her he had called Peter Pan. She was ecstatic! She talked to 'Peter' and the rest and had a great night the rest of the night.

I don't know how the sitter pulled off the voices so well, but there may be a career on the stage for him after this!

2008-08-07T11:30:00.000-04:00

An American in Poland

I was in Poland for business this week. There were 4 days of someone else's meetings, then 1 day for my global team to meet. Since I'm a very informal guy I made a point to my team that dress for the day was casual.

Before I leave for a trip to Europe I make a decision. Do I want to try to blend in (pack earth toned clothes) or not (my normal stuff). On this trip - for no real reason - I decided not. So I just packed whatever was on top in my closets.

As I came down for the Friday meeting I had basic clothes on. Nothing special. Well, at least not to me.

I turned the corner and ran into Andy. He's my business partner. He's an Irish who grew up in England. He take a quick look at me, gives me the kind of look that suggests I should maybe check my zipper, then says in his very cool English accent "Denis! Could you *possibly* look any more American?"

I took a moment to look at myself. American flag motif polo short, blue jeans, bright yellow running shoes I won in a race a few years back, and a black Starbury baseball cap. Hmm. He may have a point.

Andy was still incredulous. He went on "Really! I mean it. This is the equivalent of a French guy coming down with a vest covering a blue and white striped shirt wearing a beret!"

That was pretty funny. But it had no effect on me - I headed of to the meeting with me team softly humming the "I'm proud to be an American" song. Now of course I'm not always that proud, but in this situation I really couldn't escape it.

Now I really have to think hard about what I pack next time over...

2008-08-07T10:53:00.000-04:00

Statistically Impossible Encounter

I have been a FaceBook user for many years. Initially you could only be on FB if you had an EDU address. But even back in those days P&G had a relationship with the founder and we were allowed in. It was a brave new world - the future of society. So naturally I signed right up.

Every now and then I'll get blasts from the past through it. Someone from work who I haven't worked with in many years will send me a friend invite. But never anything like this.

I was in Budapest for business (see my other post!) and had finished the meetings for the day. So I was back in my room, taking advantage of the in-room internet connection (Only $70/day!) As I was going through my email I saw a FB friend request. So I opened it up.

Initially I didn't even recognize the name. This is not unique. I am horrible with names. In fact an old HS friend recently told me that this is nothing new - I was even bad with them in HS. This actually cheered me up - at least it wasn't an effect of getting old!

Anyway - since I didn't recognize the name I clicked the link. As soon as I did the memories started flooding back. I remember this guy. Drew - I went to college with him at Beloit. He lived on the same floor of the fraternity house as me. I could picture his door - he had a poster of Marilyn Monroe on it, and an article from a newspaper with the title "Kids are Tools." He was a good guy. We weren't close buddies or anything, but I knew him and thought he was cool.

As I looked at his profile a couple things were odd. I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to them at first. I was in Budapest so I was thinking that maybe the Hungarian FB servers were overlaying info into his profile. But after I had seen enough curious entries I really started to wonder. There was a lot of Hungarian written on the page, and something about a place called budacast.hu. Finally the incredible dawned on me - Drew lived in Budapest!!!!

Now c'mon. How do you even figure the odds on something like this? Haven't seen the guy in 21 years. Never really close to him. He had no connection to Budapest in college. Hell, I don't think he even knew I had gone there. I haven't been to Budapest I 22 years. And the one week I return is the week that he finds me and reaches out through FB? I think million to 1 is way too low for something like this. It's just not possible.

And yet there it was. Of course I immediately sent an email off to him. "Hey man - I'm here in Budapest too!" was the essential gist. I got a quick reply "Yeah, right." It took me describing my hotel for him to believe the unlikely. I don't blame him, it took me a while to believe it too!

Clearly the fates clearly wanted us to get together. So we got together for dinner and a few drinks. It was great seeing him again. He's exactly the same as in college. A little quirky, but smart, funny, and fun to be around. We had a great night. He's lived in Budapest for something like 15 years. Budacast is his work - he does podcasts. If you find this all hard to believe I don't blame you. But check out his podcast entry for the week after I was there:

http://www.budacast.hu/shownews.php?newsid=255&cat=5

2008-08-07T10:52:00.000-04:00

Return to Budapest

As you all know, I went to Budapest for the first semester of my Senior year of college. I was there for 3 months, went to school, lived in an apartment, and dated a wonderful girl (Noemi).
I had always planned to go back, but somehow never got around to it. I had been to Europe several times, but never with enough time to space to make a return visit.

In April I started to hear of a work meeting that was going to take place there. I made sure to get myself invited to it! I was overjoyed at the chance to go back.

Mimi was something less than overjoyed. Not only was I going to go back to the city of a previous girlfriend (and see her!), but also I was going to be there over our wedding anniversary. To her credit she didn't complain about it. She only had one rule - no hanging out with the ex on our wedding anniversary. That was more than fair! Actually she had one more rule. She said that Noemi had to be fat (in my friend Drew's parlance - that she had been hit by the Babushka bomb). Well she wasn't. But I stayed true to the first rule!

I got in an Sunday morning. Noemi met me at the airport and brought me to my hotel - the West End Hilton. It carries that name as it is next to the West End train terminal.

Coincidentally this is exactly the same terminal I arrived in when I took the train from Brussels 22 year previous. Just walking through it was a personal time warp for me.

Over the course of my time there, Noemi and I went back to our old apartment building, to my old school (try as I could I could not find our classroom!), on the old trams and busses I used to take, and through tours of various parts of the city we had traveled in our previous life together. It was wonderful.

Weird too though. You know how when you're with someone you have a really strong bond with that just being in their presence is enough? You don't have to have deep conversations to make it meaningful? This was one of my first times experiencing that. We would be together having an ice cream on a bench talking about the weather. And I was having a great time. I kept thinking to myself - you've only got 6 days here, talk about something important. But I didn't have to. The weather was plenty.

Obviously the last time I was there the country was under communist rule. So what has changed? Not a whole lot from my brief tour. The people don't look over their shoulders when they talk. They don't lower their voice mentioning their disapproval of the government. And they have no visible ties to the Soviet Union any more.

The biggest physical change was the buildings. I remember Budapest being a very dirty city. Not trash on the road - that was swept by the babushkas every morning. The buildings looked dirty. Like the beautiful architecture under them was of no particular interest. Many of these buildings have been cleaned up now. They are nicely painted in attractive colors. And they look wonderful. It's like someone has removed a film from the entire city. There are still visible war scars, but even they look better with this refurbishing.

Leaving this time wasn't nearly as tough as the last time around. I took a taxi to the airport again, but it was at 5am, so Noemi didn't accompany me. I think the fact that I was 1/2 asleep kept me from welling up the emotions of my previous departure. It was a wonderful visit - my only regret is that it took me 22 years to get around to it!

2008-07-15T13:20:00.001-04:00

Bad Things Seamus did Last Night

Mimi and I were out at VB last week. When we got back we asked the babysitter (the neighbor boy) how things went. As usual he said the kids all did great. I pressed him - this is what he always says and I don't believe it. But he stuck to his story. OK; maybe they really did behave themselves.

The next morning as I was eating breakfast with the kids Denis asked me if I saw his note. "What note?" I asked. He showed it to me. It was scrawled in pencil and sitting on my mail pile. It was titled "Bad Things Seamus did Last Night". The items noted were:

- Stood on his chair
- Tried to climb onto the table
- Wouldn't listen
- Tried to worm his way to get more snack
- Made excuses to come downstairs when he was supposed to be in bed
- Wrecked the chair in my room with the bears
- Just misbehaved!!
- I don't know what he did before that
- Tried to steal Tara's Pokémon cards

Going to have to ask the sitter about this next time I see him.

In the mean time we are going to apply technology. I told Denis he was free to use my new flip camera (extremely basic digital video camera). So next time I expect a multimedia presentation on his brother's (poor) behavior. I can't wait.

2008-04-17T17:08:00.001-04:00

Liam the chef

I came downstairs this morning to find that Liam had already made his breakfast. My first clue into this observation was the smell of something burning horribly. My second was him sitting at his chair with a bitter-beer face on nibbling at his oatmeal.

I asked him what had happened. He told me that he burned his oatmeal. How? I asked. He didn't have a good answer for that. He thought he had done everything right.

Looking at the bowl provided no clues. There was oatmeal swimming in milk with bits of black everywhere. Curious.

So I dumped that bowl out and asked him to show me what he did. He went into the cupboard, got a packet of oatmeal, opened it, put it into the bowl, then moved off to the microwave.

Anyone paying attention? Did you see the missing step?

Yup - he put powdered oatmeal into the microwave completely dry! That doesn't work so well. I asked him "What about the milk?" He immediately slapped his head (Hey - it saved me from doing it!)

Duh.

I think he'll get it right from now on.

2008-04-17T17:06:00.000-04:00

A (soccer) star is born?

Seamus is playing soccer again. This time he is actually 'of age.' He played last season but wasn't quite at the 5-year entry point. But he's been coached by his brother Liam for 2 years, so we figured he was ready.

He had speed, skills, and aggressiveness. But he had no focus. So he'd run quite fast - just in the opposite direction. He didn't do too well over the season.

I took him down for his first game Saturday. We got there late (of course). They had already started, so the coach had him sit out the first part. I sat down to watch, and immediately two strong girls on the other team zipped down the field and scored a goal. Not a good sign - the game was all of 2 minutes old. Nobody on Seamus' team even really moved.

So I called Seamus over and showed him what had happened. I wanted to impress on him that he needed to put in some effort to help his team. He seemed to be paying attention.

Right then his coach called for him and put him into the game. Sure enough here come the two girls. But instead of scoring, Seamus met them, stole the ball, and took it down the other way. He missed his shot, but put in exactly the effort I asked for from him.

The rest of the game was much of the same. Seamus and the opposing girls going head to head. He only played about 1/2 the game, but played hard the entire time.

At the end the score was 6-2 in favor of our team. They scored their two goals while he was out.
Oh, yeah. And our 6 goals? Seamus scored 5 of them!

My happiest part of the day was watching Liam cheer him and encourage him. And then to see Seamus run to him after a goal and jump into his arms. It was a total Kodak moment!

2008-03-03T09:37:00.002-05:00

Single Parent Weekend

Over the years since we've been married I've had many (many) great weekends away with my buddies. They have been great escapes, and I find them to be very positive for my overall mental health. And while I've positioned it to Mimi in this manner she hasn't exactly bought it. I've encouraged her to do the same, but she is of a mind that if you need to get away then there's something you need to get away from. And that's bad. So she wouldn't do it.

At least she wouldn't do it when I encouraged her to. But it seems her friends have more pull than I do. So when her girlfriends from college called her and said "Come to Chicago" she took the opportunity. I was very happy for her. But very worried for me. She got to go away and have fun for a weekend, but I'd be on task for watching the kids. Ugh! Now I know how she's felt all these times.

Mimi took off at noon on Friday, timing things perfectly and got into Chicago with no issues. Good for her! For me I came home after work and immediately got a little help. The neighbors called to see if Denis Jr. wanted to go with them to a basketball game. Cool! One down!

We had a quick dinner and then - per spoil weekend guidelines - sat down for a movie. I had watched The Music Man on a recent flight, and thought they'd really like it. I figured Denis wouldn't, so it was perfect. As I expected, Liam and Tara loved it, and Seamus couldn't sit still. But overall a good success. I got them all off to bed and kicked back with a movie of my own to relax.

Saturday morning was an early start. Tara had ballet, and it was visitor's day. So I packed up Tara, Liam and Seamus and headed out. I gave Denis a break and let him stay home. Since he had been out late the previous night he was quite pleased with that! So the 4 of us went to the lesson. I stayed and watched, while Liam and Seamus played (nicely and quietly!) with a toy car in the dressing room. A small one - but another success!

When I got back from ballet I had to head out to do a team race with some friends (see other post). So I got another nice break while Amy came over to watch the kids. I got back early from the race and got cleaned up. Once everyone was settled we spent some time playing DDR. This has been a huge hit in the house. Kids of all ages (up to 42!) have a great time with it. And everyone is getting better, so new scores all the time!

When we got done playing we went out with Mimi's parents for dinner. This took a while as cursed restaurants here don't take reservations. But it was acceptable, and it was a good meal. Even better, we had a ton of leftovers - which I collected and brought home so I could use later. Liam went home with Mimi's parents after dinner, so I only had 3 to deal with again.

Since Denis didn't get a movie on Friday night I got the younger ones into bed and he and I kicked back with a movie. I wanted to give him one slightly more mature, one that he wouldn't be able to watch with the other kids. So we settled on Tomb Raider. Lots of excitement, shooting, etc. But not really a whole bunch of killing. A lot of bad shooting, I guess. In fact, near as I can tell there was only one actual shooting death. So that's not to bad. He naturally wanted something more (and R or better!) but he happily settled on TR. It went very nicely, and he enjoyed the show.

Sunday morning I got up early (for me - they were all awake already). I started breaking eggs to make pancakes. Denis immediately started to complain - "I don't want eggs!" So naturally I continued to tease him on it. Even as I mixed in the batter powder I called it eggs. It wasn't until they hit the griddle that he finally realized what he was getting. And then he was happy!

We ate a nice fat breakfast and went to church. I had to remember to bring snacks for Seamus' class, which I did (I am so proud of myself!) We got him to his class, and we went to church. After mass started I suddenly realized that while we brought the snacks, they were still in the car. Damn! I couldn't leave to get them and leave Liam and Tara by themselves in church. So I took a risk and asked Liam to do it. He pulled it off beautifully! Unlocked and locked the car and got the treats to the right place. Hey! The kids are finally being somewhat productive! Man I've been looking forward to this for a long time.

As we were leaving mass, Denis asked if his friend Eric could come over to play. While this adds another kid to the mix it's actually something that makes life easier by giving them more to do. So I said yes and we brought him with us.

For lunch I took all the leftovers from the previous night and fried them up in a pan and served them again. It was yummy! Even as leftovers nobody complained. I was quite pleased with myself!

The day was beautiful, so we all went outside to play. Eric and Denis playing BBall. Seamus in the mud, and me flying a kite! Got that sucker up 200'. Tara asked to hold the string and how could I say no? Naturally she got bored in a couple minutes and just dropped it. Yikes! I immediately went sprinting across the yard to catch it before it disappeared. I got it just in time, but that was the end of that game for her!

And just like that Mimi was back! She had a great time, and we did too. She's already talking about doing this again, and I'm already much less stressed about the idea!

2008-01-10T18:11:00.000-05:00

Animal Abuse

I had just returned from Christmas break and was having my first phone call with Mourad. We spent a little bit of time catching up on our vacations. Now I know that Mourad is Islamic, but I didn't know if there was a Holiday they celebrated on this timing. So I asked him.

Turns out there is a Muslim Holiday that coincided with Xmas this year. It floats, so it was coincidental, but he was able to celebrate it. He had gone back home to Morocco to be with his family, so he could do it in all aspects. I asked him about the celebration. Despite having dated an Islamic girl in grad school I know very little about their holidays. So I asked him what he did. His response was both simple and complex: "I slaughtered a sheep." I wasn't completely sure how he meant this.

So I had to follow up. What does he mean, exactly, when he says that? Is it that he puts an order in with his butcher and gets a nice leg of lamb dropped off in the afternoon? "No. I take a knife and I cut the sheep's throat." He can tell that I am a little shocked, so he tells me this is my cultural diversity for the day!

The trick of the ceremony, he tells me, is explaining it to his children. His two young girls. It used to scare them a bit. I can undersatnd that - I think it would scare me! But he was has been successful with his 6 year old to the point where she asked if she could help this year! Turns out she can't yet, but the fact that she expressed the interest was great.

After I hung up the phone I shared the story with my cube-mates. I expected them to be shocked. But I didn't expect what came next. It would appear that by sharing the Mourad story it opened the door to everyone sharing their animal death experiences. Their very personal experiences!

Michelle went first. She said that a previous year she was working on building a garden. And she had a load of soil dropped off to build it out. As she started to move the dirt from the pile to the garden she discovered that is was populated by two fat moles. So of course she did what any reasonable young lady would do - she bludgeoned them to death and diced them to pieces with her shovel!!!! Trust me, if you ever met Michelle you would swear that she couldn't watch anyone else do this much less do it herself. And yet here she sat, dressed in her professional best, calmly describing the bloody act. Chilling.

It had a different effect on Cathy. Because she immediately launched into a description of the problems she and her husband had with their deck. It seems that after it was built they found that it quickly became a home to a colony of raccoons. I had no idea that they gathered in such numbers, but she shared that there were at least 15 of them there. Big nasty ones too. And you just can't have that with a couple kids running around. So they had to be removed. No big deal. Cathy's husband got himself a trap and caught them one at a time. Piece of cake. But the question is - what do you do with them after they're trapped? Well, if you're Cathy's husband you take the trap to the fountain in front of the house and hold them underwater and wait for them to thrash and scratch until they drown. 15 times in a row. It takes a rare man to be able to do that.

And this is how my Monday morning started. One by one by one stories that shock and amaze from the kindest gentlest people I know. You always hear that people are capable of crazy things in the right situation. You have now heard it from me too - it's true!

2008-01-10T17:01:00.000-05:00

Champagne tasting with Charlie.

Before we got up the GR, Charlie sent me a note and asked me if I had any interest in going to a champagne tasting. Now to be clear - I don't like champagne. In fact I don't even drink wine, and have never been to a wine tasting. So this sounded like a really bad idea. On the other hand Mimi loves wine and champagne. So naturally I told him we'd love to go. Of course I didn't bring nice clothes, so before the event I had to go to Charlie's house and borrow a jacket. They were all a little tight, especially around the middle. It was quite a shock to find out later that they actually fit him. Hmmm. May have to start paying attention to my diet!

The event was in the University Club, while already sounds a little snooty. Because, well, it is. It's at the top of the biggest bank in town. So I guess it's a ritzy executives club kind of thing. And as we walked in it was clearly populated by exactly the people you'd expect to see in such a place. Well, except for our table. Our table had brother Tim and his wife Cathy. Brother Charlie and his wife Sheila. And Charlie's friend Michael and his wife. It wasn't quite like one of those "What doesn't belong in this picture" exercises, but it was close.

It didn't seem to bother any of us. We immediately connected as you'd expect adult brothers who don't see each other very often. Which means quite well, and quite loudly. We were having a great time. There was an MC kind of guy who was introducing each bottle, but it got increasingly hard to hear him as we continued our own table's entertainment. I could see we were getting some dirty looks from some of the other guests, but I was having too much fun to worry about it.

After about 3 bottles of champagne we were getting what could be best described as boisterous. In general I consider myself a pretty funny guy. But on this night I was in rare form. I was cracking myself up, which is normal. But I also had an appreciative audience, which stoked the fires well beyond normal levels. I was killing them! And Tim, Charlie, and Michael were right there with me. The wives weren't quite as carried away, but seemed to be enjoying themselves.

It would appear from the events that were about to unfold that this was not the universal POV. It's hard to describe exactly what happened because it was so unexpected. As Charlie is right in the middle of delivering his latest add to the session a pencil bounced across our table. It kind of came over Charlie's shoulder and bounced to the middle. Charlie didn't even notice. But I saw it and Michael and Tim did as well. It didn't take long to figure out that someone from the table next to us had thrown it. Yes, at a snooty exec club someone actually threw a pencil at Charlie!! Unexpected doesn't even come close to expressing my reaction. I couldn't recall this happening since maybe 6th grade.

I actually saw the guy who did it. He was an older guy. Kind of heavy set. White hair. Beard. So I guess it gets even worse - Santa threw it! But no red suit. Instead he had a blue sweater-vest. In other words, not exactly the picture of the guy you'd expect to be throwing pencils.

I was in such shock I had absolutely no response. But not Michael. He knew exactly what to do. He stood up, picked up the pencil, and strode off to Santa's table. I held my breath. I didn't know this guy at all. And he was a friend at Charlie's. Which meant that he's either really cool or psychotic. Or both. I'm already starting to think of my course of action if he stabs Santa in the eye with the pencil - how am I going to explain that to the kids? I needn't have worried. He was so cool. He strides purposefully over, get's sweater-vest's attention and tell him that it appears that he has lost his pencil and returns it to him. Oh yeah! Totally served cold and way too cool.

When Michael returned Charlie finally caught on to what had happened. He was furious. You could really see Dad in him. But he restrained himself (unlike Dad), Still, when Santa walked past to use the restroom he couldn't resist following him. When they met in the hallway, to his credit, pencil-man actually apologized. He said it was wrong of him and that he was sorry. He should have stopped there. But he didn't. Instead he flowed directly into "Although I believe you owe me an apology as well." His point was that a gentleman would not have been as disruptive. Naturally Charlie couldn't resist responding "A gentlemen wouldn't have thrown a pencil!" Justifiably he was quite proud of himself. Unfortunately I didn't get to see it in person, but Charlie shared the details with each of us several times through the night. And the next day. And after that too.

The perfect ending to the story is that on Christmas at mom's house I got a present from Charlie. This was odd, as we do family presents and don't usually get presents for individual brothers and sisters. So I was quite curious. But I understood as soon as I got it open. I am now the proud owner of my very own pale blue sweater-vest! The only thing missing was a pencil!

2007-11-23T17:09:00.001-05:00

Running mishap

I have been running for a long time. Not today, but over the course of my life. I started when I was 12, and I am now 42. So I've been running 30 years. I thought I had experienced everything that could happen on a run. I was wrong.

Denis Jei was still in football season. What this means essentially is that my Sundays are shot. His games are often 45 minutes away. They are required to arrive an hour before game time. Games are an hour. And they stay after for team meetings. Add it all up and it's 4+ hours out of a 10 hour day down the drain. I would have a slightly different attitude if he enjoyed it, or got to play. But since neither of those were true it was just a pain.

So on game day I have my own little routine. I drive him to wherever he is supposed to go. I drop him with his team. Then I change clothes and go for a run. I have a good solid hour or more to run. Come back, change clothes, and watch the last few minutes of the game. It usually works quite well.

This weekend the game was way out on Beechmont. No worries. It has a huge hill that I like to run so it'll work just fine. I dropped Denis off according to plan then got out onto the road. The last time at this field I went to the left, so for a change of pace this time I started right. Turns out I was luckier last time. After a mile or so the sidewalk disappeared and I was running in the middle of a busy street. So I turned around and went back the other way.

I passed the fields then headed off for the hill. It was a lovely day. Clear and sunny, but cool. Very light breeze. Just a perfect day for running. I had my sunglasses on, and my (well, actually Liam's) iPod blasting tunes into my ear. Pretty much as close to running perfection as you can get. I was moving along at a pace that for me these days is considered cooking (probably 8 min/mile) when something caught my attention.

I was about to pass an apartment complex. I saw a woman walk out of the complex and get into her car. I knew she was about to head down the drive, so I looked to her to make eye contact so she would see me coming. Looking back, I'm glad she never did.

As I was intently focusing on her I passed a telephone pole. I never thought about it at the time, but in older neighborhoods telephone poles carry more than the phone signal. Many of them carry power lines and even cable TV wiring. Generally the cable wiring is stapled to the side of the pole, so all you see is a thick black line up against the wood. None of this crossed my wind as I attempted to pass the pole.

Notice the extra word in the sentence above? Yes. I gave it an effort. But I was unsuccessful. I was more than that, actually. As I ran I was forcibly lifted into the air and brought to a complete stop! For a minute I didn't even realize what had happened, It was such a shocking experience. What the f*** just happened?? Hell, at first I was just glad that I had landed on my feet. Once I got my wits I realized what had happened. You remember those cable wires? Well on this pole they weren't neatly stapled to the wood. No, on this pole it looped out about a foot or so from about 6' off the ground to about 3'. In other words, exactly where my arm swings while I'm running.

So what had happened was that as I ran I placed my arm in this little loop and it had brought me to a complete stop. Um. Ouch. I felt like a fish yanked out of a pond by a hook! Actually I am sure it was an equally jarring experience. I was just so completely in my little world that the shock of being stopped was akin to falling into a pool. Totally unexpected. Totally confusing.
I took a minute to survey the damage. My left arm hurt like hell. There was already a nice clear welt across it from the cable. I knew that would be a lovely bruise before long. Other than that I felt OK. So I started running again. It took about a mile for the pain to subside, but once it did I was back in my running world again. Only not so completely this time. Now I was paying just a bit more attention!

It is three weeks later as I write this. The welt turned into a nasty bruise, but now it is gone. The bigger issue is it seems I twisted my ankle when I stopped. So much for my pride at sticking the landing! I landed first on my left foot, and that ankle is still hurting. In fact, I haven't run in almost a week to allow it to heal. It is feeling a bit better, so it won't be long before I'm back on the roads. But you can bet I'll be casting a wary eye towards any malicious telephone poles along my path!

2007-11-23T16:59:00.000-05:00

Amazing soccer season

Just as Denis' team did at age 8, Liam's team had an incredible season. They made it through their league without losing a game. Unlike Denis' team, they didn't win every game - they tied one team 1-1. But they played that team again at the end of the season and took them handily.

It wasn't until the season was over that I heard an impressive stat. That goal in the 1-1 tie? It was the only goal that was scored on the for the entire season!! Yeah. I guess that counts as a solid defense. And Liam can take a fair amount of the credit for that. He always wanted to play defense, and when he was back there it was rare for a team to even get a shot on goal, much less a score.

At the end of their league play they got into their league tournament. True to form, they won that too.

This took them further than Denis' team had gone. I'm not sure why they didn't go on, but they stopped at this point. Not so for Liam. They entered the SAY North tournament. 32 teams. 16 on their side of the bracket. And guess what? They won it again. They had some close games. In fact they won their last 2 games 1-0, once in the 4th period and once in overtime. Exhilarating to be sure.

Winning their bracket took them to the state tournament. It seems this is a pretty big deal. Teams really do come from all over the state to play in it. But our first match was against another local team, Some group from the West side that they hadn't had the chance to play yet.
The morning of there game was grey. But the time we got close to the fields it was already raining. About the only positive was that I was able to find a parking spot with a view of the fields. Of course I was in the Mini. And twice soccer moms/dads pulled up next to me in their humongous SUVs. Man I hate those things! I went over both times and asked if they could back up just a bit so I could see the fields. You could see in their eyes what they thought of my request. But none of them was rude enough to actually give voice to their thoughts. So they moved.

The first period was played completely in the rain. And I stayed completely in the car! It ended with no score. And as the period was ending they called a delay as thunder had been heard. Damn! So Liam and I sat in the car together. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep an energetic 8-year-old, who is in the middle of a very important soccer game, entertained in a Mini? No? Take a guess. Then multiply. Then you're only 1/2 off. It was crazy.

But the rain stopped and the game started again. It got through periods 2 and 3 with no score. Our team was creating more chances, but they just wouldn't go in. Soon after the start of the 4th period the game was delayed again fro thunder and lightning. So back to the car we went. At this point I told Mimi she should probably leave. I'm glad I did. We sat in the car for nearly an hour before the skies cleared. So we all filed out onto the field to resume the match. Only we didn't. The officials for some reason decided to cancel the entire day's games! Can you imagine? Teams drove from 3, 4, 5 hours away and they were turned away before even getting started. I was mad that I had spent 5 hours, I can't imagine what these people felt.
In any case our game was nullified. If we had scored a goal we would have been declared victors. Since we didn't we were told we'd start over the next weekend.

In the intervening days we got a steady stream of information from the coach. First was that we were going to play a 3-way match against 2 other teams. That was a little odd. Then it was just a re-match, at 8:30 in the morning! But eventually it ended up his team would play against a new team. One that was from outside Dayton. I immediately sensed trouble. A team doesn't drive 3 hours for a game unless they feel they have a solid chance of winning it. But I was in good spirits as the game time had been moved to 1:00 in the afternoon.

Game time came and the weather was perfect. Crisp and cool, but sunny. Great weather to be 8 years old and running around.

The first period was pretty even. Nobody scored, and both teams held the ball well. If anything, they looked just a bit better. Their defense did a great job keeping the ball on our side. It seemed each of their kids had as strong a kick as our strongest kid. So ever so slowly they seemed to be easing towards our goal. Then, midway through the second period it happened. They got a good chance and converted. And just like that, for the first time in 6 weeks, they had been scored upon.

To their credit they didn't fold. They must have known it was unlikely they'd come back. But they fought hard the rest of the period. In the third their opponents started pressing again and scored another goal. At this point the game was clearly over. We weren't getting good chances, and were now two goals down. About the only thing that could lose the game for them was not getting their subs in the game for enough time (there are rules about this, and I was the keeper of time). But in the 4th they got their weak kid in for plenty of time and the game ended 0-2 for them.

The kids were predictably bummed. There was some crying here and there. But the parents were all upbeat. They had a great season and shouldn't let one loss ruin it all.

And something tells me this won't be the last time they make it that far...

2007-10-31T15:38:00.000-04:00

New HD DVD player and implications

I have now upgraded every element of my home AV system to High Def. I have the DirecTV package with HD channels. I have a huge (8 feet wingspan) antenna to bring in the local HD channels. I have the Playstation 3 for games and Blu Ray movies. And now I have the Toshiba HD DVD player.

Life is good!

Only I noticed a small issue recently. When watching HD movies on the Toshiba, dialogue from low-voiced male characters was distorted. Didn't really notice it immediately. But once I did take note it became quite bothersome.

I had it hooked up via the optical audio out. So I played with the cable a bit, plugged the cable into various other inputs, etc. But nothing worked. So I bought a new cable. That didn't work either.

2 weeks ago, Toshiba sent a DVD with a firmware upgrade. My hopes were high. They weren't very clear on exactly what it was supposed to fix, but I upgraded with high hopes. No luck. Still very noticeable distortion.

Now you'll note above that I am using the optical out, not the HDMI. That's because my Sony ES receiver was built before HDMI, so it can't switch that signal. And the optical is the only digital out on the Toshiba (I guess they saved some money by not including coax digital).

And of course, since I had screwed around for so long the initial 90 day warranty was up on the Toshiba. So what to do?

Well, what any other red-blooded American would do - UPGRADE!

I had been looking for an excuse to upgrade the receiver to an HDMI-compatible version ever since I got the HDTV. But they were very expensive, and the HDMI standard was still evolving. So I put it off. With this new motivation I went looking.

The first thing I found was that the top of the line Sony ES had just been replaced. So that $1500 unit was now available for 1/2 price. I scanned the specs of old and new and decided that the old one would suit my needs just fine. I made the purchase Thursday morning and it arrived Saturday afternoon.

I had just finished a run on Saturday at 4:30, and walked expectantly past the front door. No love - the package wasn't there. So I went upstairs and took a shower. When I came down my curiosity got a hold of me and I went to the FedEx site to see when it would arrive. As I was searching I heard the kids goofing off in the garage, but I let them be for now - I had bigger fish to fry!

I was confused when the status of my order came up as delivered. That's a little odd. Then I checked the delivery time. 5:07. Then I checked current time. 5:10. Then I realized the kids weren't home! Score!! My new toy was here!

I wanted to hook it up immediately but of course it required new HDMI cables. So I ran off to Radio Shack to buy some. They came in at $70 each! Sure, they're Monster cables, but damn! I've spent less for components! Oh well.

I drove home, hooked everything up quickly (no mean feat in my system) and put in an HD DVD right off. And it worked! No distortion! I was in heaven.

It took me all of 20 minutes to revise the programming in the smart remote, and I was off. I checked everything out. All sources worked perfectly. I have 6 fewer cables running behind my TV - and only 1 cable running from the receiver to the TV! Awesome.

Now it's 3 days later, the excitement is wearing off, and I'm starting to coolly asses the situation. So basically what I did was spent nearly $1000 on a new receiver and cables to fix a $300 DVD player.

Now I'm sure that doesn't make sense to some people, but I'm still smiling!

2007-10-31T15:37:00.000-04:00

Why it sucks to be 1/2 Asian

Our little school is going High Tech. They are now fully on-board with the information revolution. Yes. They have grades posted on-line. And not just final grades either. Grades for every test and everymajor project/homework assignment.

Tonight Mimi and I sat down with Boy 1 to see how he was doing.

You can just tell this isn't going to go well, can't you?

Well we start looking at grades, and immediately a number of things catch Mimi's eye.

"You got a 60 on that test? What happened that day?"

"Oh, that low score on the homework assignment was because you forgot to do it then turned it in late."

"Looks like you had a rough string of scores there, what's going on?"

In 5 minutes he had tears brimming in his eyes. Poor kid.

Here's the kicker - he has 6 classes. He is currently scoring one A+, 4As, and an A-. And he was in tears. That's tough parenting love! This is why Harvard is 50% Asian.

You slacker caucasians think you've got the stones to make you kid cry when he's bringing home a 4.0 GPA? Didn't think so.

2007-07-04T15:17:00.000-04:00

First ride to the Rec Center

It has finally dawned on me that Seamus is 4. OK, I actually knew that. But it finally dawned on me the kinds of things the other boys were doing at age 4 that he hasn't done yet.
One example is Denis rode down to the rec center and back for the first time at age 2.5 on a tricycle. Liam did the same, if not a little earlier. Seamus has never done it.

This day being a Holiday, freed (as much as possible) from the demands of work, made it the perfect time to rectify the situation.

Now cines Seamus is 4.5 he's well past the trike stage. In fact he's been riding the training-wheel bike all spring/summer. And he's quite good at it. So I decided to take him down on that one.

By now I can predict the sequence of events that unfold after informing a child of this decision:
1. Elation - Wow! I get to ride to the park!
2. Fear - I can't make it down that huge hill!
3. Exhaustion - Man, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be.

Naturally, Seamus flew through the first two of these. But I told him I'd spot him down the hill and he was good to go. I think it helped that the older two rode off by themselves in front of him. Naturally he wants to be like them, so he was off in earnest pursuit.

Getting down the hill was pretty easy. Like the others, at the start he can only really focus on one thing at a time. If he's pedaling, he won't steer straight. If he looks at a car he stops pedaling. If he's going down a hill the feet come off and he freaks. No biggie. Been there.
He made it to the bottom without much drama.

We hung out down at the rec center for a while and watched Mimi finish the race. #4 overall female and first Evendale resident. Same as always. Think she's won that 6 times now.

When it was time to head back I was resigned to impending back pain. You see, while it take a bit of effort on my part slowing them down hills, it takes a hell of a lot more pushing them up. In a crouched position that is certainly damaging nerve endings every time I do it.

But it's good for them. So I do it. Seamus took off up the rec center hill, which is pretty mild, and made it most of the way up. I was impressed. On the hill by Tim's house he struggled. So I pushed him almost all the way.

The next hill is long, but not too steep. I told him I wanted to see how far he could get by himself. To the driveway? Got it! To the mailbox? Sure. To the fire hydrant? You bet. And just like that he was at the top! He made it up 100% by himself. This was a surprise. I think maybe Denis and Liam did at this age, but this was his first ever try. I remember having to work both of them through it over multiple occasions.

The last hill is the huge one. I struggle getting up it! So he didn't stand a chance. He got up to the For Sale sign and lost it. I resigned myself to a long push. But 2 minutes in, with most of the hill still to go, he got his second wind. "Let go, Dad! I want to do it by myself!"

OK, this was new. Neither of the other boys had ever done this. I knew he couldn't make it, but I sure wasn't going to hold him back from trying. And of course he didn't. And I started pushing again. Another minute later he was on his own again. He kept this up the whole way up the hill. Rest a bit, push hard, rest again.

This boy's got a strong spirit. He's the smallest of all. He started the latest, and yet I bet he'll conquer the hill earlier than either brother. He may only weigh 40 pounds, but an awful lot of it is heart!

2007-07-04T14:58:00.000-04:00

Stuffed cat naming conventions

Liam has had a 45 year old stuffed cat for a couple years now. He got it from his Great Aunt in Japan. It used to be her childhood toy. She was very generous (she always is) and shared it with Liam. I'm not sure why, but he gave it the name White Muffin.

Now it seems that White Muffin was actually one of a pair of animals (this is starting to sound like Toy Story 2). There was also a black one. On Mimi's last trip to Japan she came home with a black version. Liam, adhering to ANSI stuffed animal naming standards, was quick to christen this one Black Muffin.

So now for his First Communion Liam naturally scored all kinds of loot. Gerry chipped in and got him a toy that he can plug his iPod shuffle into. It sings along to the music, purrs, blinks, etc. It's in the shape of a cat. So the new member of the family?

iMuffin!!

And he thought it up all by himself. Clever.

2007-06-30T10:59:00.000-04:00

To the Dermatologist!

About a year ago, Mimi's constant harassment finally got me motivated to make an appointment with a dermatologist. She had been to this guy previously, and while he was billed as a cantankerous old man, he was supposed to be really good. So I agreed.

I set up my appointment for the week of July 4. The lady on the phone confirmed that I would be around that week, and on my agreement set the date.

About a week before the appointment she called back. Well, guess what? After pinning me down on the date, now it turns out the doc is going to be on vacation. So she left a message for me to call back and schedule an appointment.

Which I did. Fully 10 months later! When I got the next nice lady on the phone she asked me for the old appointment date. I told her July 6. She looked and looked and couldn't find me. Oh! Right! I said. July 6, 2006. Silence. Yeah - took me a while to get around to rescheduling. Turns out they don't keep records that long, so she took my word for it and I got scheduled for June 29, almost exactly a year late.

The nice thing was I had already filled out all my forms, so when the day came all I had to do was show up. Mimi had prepped me with many warnings. It'll take forever. He's really brusque. No bedside manner, etc. I was agonizing over how I would play it. As the nicest guy ever and highlight his behavior via contrast? Or give as good as I got? Naturally I decided I'd play it by ear.

Registration was easy. I simply handed in my forms. But as she was reviewing them she called me over. How old are you? She asked. As I'm thinking up my reply (honestly after I hit 30 I never really paid attention to my age. I seriously have to figure it out every time someone asks) I look past her to my sheet where it declares I'm 40. But of course I'm not 40. I'm 41.
That's odd. I'm generally pretty good at subtraction. How'd I make that mistake? Oh yeah! I filled in the form a year ago!! I was 40 back then. I didn't bother to explain this to her, just said 41 and got admitted.

When the doc came in he was the absolute personification of caring old doctor. How are you? Warm handshake. Some small talk. If he didn't have a name tag I would have wondered who I got. He was great.

He asked me the reason for my visit. "Nagging wife" was my response. He liked that one. Then he took a look at the spots on my face that Mimi had sent me in for. I was sure they were just age spots, freckles, whatever. Not exactly. Turns out it's AK (Actinic Keratoses). Oh hell. I don't know what's worse: that I have a skin condition, or that Mimi was right all along. Damn!
The friendly doc goes on, in his early stage dementia manner, that this is what they call pre-cancer. OK. Well, I guess it's better than post cancer. Which means you're dead. Or a 5 time Tour De France winner. But I think the odds of the second case are somewhat lower.

So my skin has been damaged from the burning rays of the sun. So what's the treatment? Well burn it off, of course! Why didn't I think of that? And what is he going to use to burn it off? Something cold, naturally. It struck me that I was going to have a hard time explaining this to the kids. I could already see the confusion on their faces.
I thought you said he burned it off?
I did
But don't you use heat to burn?
And isn't cold the opposite of heat?
If they're opposites, how can they both burn?
Ummmm

Well the doc steps out for a sec, then strolls back in with what looks like a hand-held propane torch. Only it's not propane, it's liquid nitrogen in the tank. "This is going to sting a bit" he mentions as if the thought just now struck him (after doing this for what would appear to be the better part of 100 years). Then comes the Coors Silver Bullet train straight into my face. Yeah. That stings just a bit.

He nails me twice on the face, then once on the back. I ask what happens next. Oh, nothing. They just fall off.

Oh great. Now I've got to be careful eating lest a part of what-was-once-my-face falls into my soup. I feel like a leper-wannabe. I take a look in the mirror and can already see the skin bubbling up under the freckles. Lovely. And I have to go to work now. For a series of 1-1 meetings. Wonder if I can stop by the costume shop and pick up an elephant-man mask on the way. "I am not an animal!!"

So the moral of the story? Wear sunscreen. And a hat. And spf 50 clothing. And never go outside. Revel in your pallid countenance. Milky white is the way to go!!!!

2007-06-27T11:36:00.000-04:00

Bathroom Break

A few months ago, the 8-year-old had a sudden bout of bed-wetting. This was odd. He'd been potty trained for years. I chalked it up to the fact that Mimi was out of the country and that he was just a bit out of sorts.

When Mimi came back it stopped. Well, almost. There were a couple more small accidents. But he's been dry for the last couple months.

Last night I was the last one downstairs. Mimi was already in bed with the lights out. So I turned out the downstairs lights, and stumbled up in the dark. When I got to my sink I started to get ready to brush my teeth - still with the lights off to be considerate. I was just about to start when I heard some movement, then saw that the light had gone on downstairs.

Now I don't know what would bring Mimi downstairs since she was already in bed, but hell, since she was up there was no reason to brush in the dark. I flipped the light on, and immediately saw Mimi lying in bed! OK. That's odd. If Mimi's there, who is downstairs?

I put down the toothbrush and walked downstairs. As I turned the corner into the kitchen I see Liam. He's standing in front of the trash can, penis in his hand, peeing!!!!! Right into the trash. Well, not right in, of course. He's still 90% asleep, and his aim isn't so good. But mostly into the trash can. Huh.

"Liam!" I yell. "What are you doing?" Poor kid. He's asleep. "What?" is the only reply he can muster. "Why are you peeing in the trash?" You can guess the response: "What?" I can tell this is going to be a productive conversation! So what can I do?

I just wait for him to finish, tell him to get a paper towel and clean up his misses, and send him off to wash his hands. He finished all his tasks in a daze and stumbled up to bed, still totally out.
Before I went to bed I went into his room. He was still 'awake.' I teased him a little bit "Hey Liam, if you have to go to the bathroom again, could I get you to do me a small favor and get you to pee in the toilet?" Naturally his response: "What?"

This morning I pulled him aside and asked him if he remembered last night. Oh sure, he said. I made a sign for my lemonade sale this weekend. No, I tell him. After that. He had no recollection whatsoever. No surprise there.

You should have seen his face when I told him what he did. He was stunned. He couldn't have been more shocked if I had told him he flew during the night. The only problem was he seemed to think it was kind of cool. He had the slightest smile on his face. I can see the wheels turning. "Man! If I just pretend to be asleep I can get away with anything!" I'm going to have to be careful for the next few weeks!

2007-06-25T09:16:00.000-04:00

While we don't have any significant offices in England these days, a meeting with Google London brought me from Cincinnati and my West Europe colleagues from Geneva. The plan was fly in Sunday/Monday. Meetings Tu - Th, then Friday as a free day to explore.

I had never been to England before. So this was a trip I was looking forward to. I have seen the history of places like Rome and Paris. But this felt somehow closer to me personally, and so I had been excited at the prospect.

The flight over was one of the easiest I can remember. The flight left on time and arrived on time. In between everything went according to plan. Mostly. About the only deviation was dinner. I ordered the steak. When it finally came out I assaulted it with the plastic cutlery I had been given. I made no progress. The meat was hideous. A rubbery texture that actually made me feel a little sick in my stomach. I succeeded in lancing off one bite, and ate it with difficulty. The prospect of 15 more of those caused my stomach to turn again. So I hit the call button and waited for my attendant.

Now, per company policy on overseas flights, recall that I am sitting in business class. We pay an extra $4000 or so for the flight, and one of the benefits is supposed to be decent food. They make quite a show of it. Real bottles of wine and all that. So I felt quite comfortable in pointing out that the meal was not up to business class standards.

When the attendant finally arrived I could immediately tell she didn't feel the same way. I told her the meat was hideous, and asked if they had any of the chicken left. Her expression was a blank. I guess I was the only one to complain. Not my issue the rest are sheep. For a $5500 ticket I expect something edible. And I wasn't prepared to go the next 8+ hours with nothing in my belly. So she went off to get me some chicken.

Did I get an apology? Sorry the food sucked? Uh, uh. Nothing. In any restaurant above McDonalds I'd expect some kind of remorse at the delivery of substandard food. Not here. I wonder if I ended up eating one of the crew meals? If I did I saved them from a dry tasteless chicken. They should have thanked me!

After the meal (in spite of the meal?) I actually slept after. This is a breakthrough for me. I can't normally get any decent sleep on the flight over. This is why I go the day before. I always need time to recover. But on this one I closed my eyes after dinner was cleared. And while I wouldn't say I slept soundly, I slept in decent fits until I smelled breakfast cooking. Things were looking up!

As we landed, since I was in no particular hurry, and since I always like to mix with the locals on trips like this, I headed off to the trains instead of getting a cab. I had looked this up online and saw that there is a train direct from the airport to a train station not far from my hotel. So I got onto the Gatwick express and began my adventure.

I was actually a little disappointed to find it wasn't much of an adventure! The trains were depressingly simple. The express left me at Victoria station, and from there it was 5 stops on the Circle Line to my stop. Total time was less than an hour. Total cost about $40. I found out later than one of my less adventurous colleagues took a cab. That took him 2 hours and cost nearly $200. Wasn't I feeling clever!

It was a short lived emotion. I got to my hotel and attempted to check in. Note that this is the part of my note where normally I'd say I checked in. Notice the extra word in the sentence above? Yeah. I made an attempt. It was about 11:00 when I got to the hotel. Now I know that rooms aren't guaranteed to be ready until 3, but I've never actually had to wait before. For this one I went to the nice lady at the desk and she gave me the strict party line. I replied that I had just gotten off a flight from the US, that I was tired, and that I'd really appreciate getting one of the early rooms. OK, she said, and I thought things were looking up. Maybe I'd have a 15 minute wait? But then she continued "Why don't you come back in a couple hours and I'll see what I can do for you?" A couple hours? Oh hell.

And that was it. No offer to take my luggage. No free drink tickets for the hotel bar. No free wireless internet code (yes, this is an expensive hotel, which of course means they charge $30/day for the access you get for free at a $30 room in the US. Go figure). No nothing. "Next!"

So I went off to the Café to grab a coffee and pay to get some work done. At this point I reflected on how lucky I was that I was able to get some sleep on the plane. On previous trips I would have been totally beat, and this time would have been torturous. In this case it was simply annoying. I worked for a good 2.5 hours (now 1:30) and thought certainly my room would be ready now. Right?

Actually no. Try back in another hour. So off to the café again. More coffee, more work, and it's 2:45. I was pleased to see I was able to score my room 15 minutes early. What great guys! That's British customer service at its finest. And in fact over the course of my week I would come to realize that in fact that was as fine as it was going to get! I didn't care. I had my room.
I did my normal time zone routine. I hit the gym, lifted for an hour. Ran for a bit, then came back to the room for a shower. After that I felt much better, and went out for a walk. I found a couple local grocery stores, and stocked up on supplies. Water, Coke, snacks, and breakfast bars. I could now survive a nuclear explosion or a week in London!

After my walk I went back to the room and watched a DVD. Anything to stay awake a few more hours! Gross Pointe Blank (one of my all-time favorites now) did the trick. When it finished it was 7pm, which was fine time for me to sack out.

Following the theme of easy travel, my sleep was perfect. I set my alarm for 8am, and if it hadn't gone off I would have slept another couple hours with no problem. Maybe I've just been sleepy lately? Don't know. Generally I have a rough first night of sleep. I'll wake up at 3 totally awake and take 45 minutes to get relaxed again. Not this time. I was out!

Work during the day was OK. I met with my new West Europe partner, Mourad. After we split I went back to my room to do a little more work. I had my Coke, but it was warm. You see, since the hotel was a nice one they didn't have a fridge. They had one of those minibars where if you even look at an item it's charged to your bill. So I couldn't make room for my 2litre bottle. No bother, right? I'll just go to the ice machine that it located on every floor of every hotel in the world. Yeah? Of course not. They don't have them! I don't know if this is a new feature of expensive hotels or what, but they had no ice for me. I decided to go native and drink it warm. It actually wasn't that bad.

That night Bogdan joined us, and we had a forgetful dinner at the hotel sports bar. A burger that was so lousy that we ordered more food after picking at it. The British have a well deserved reputation for the world's worst food. And it seems their talents aren't limited to their own cuisine. They can destroy American food as well.

Day two of work went well. Good meetings, and a nice lunch at the Japanese place on the top of the hotel. Dinner that night was a curious choice. We got a local recommendation for a very nice place. As you all know, I'm not a seafood fan, so I'm always curious to see the place we're heading into. Well, as we walk into this one there is an oyster bar. Not a good sign. And a decidedly nautical motif. Again, not good. They do have meat on the menu, but only 2 or 3 choices. I am somewhat bummed, as across the row is a Chop House that I'm sure does meat very well. But I don't want to kill the party. However when we order it turns out that all 5 of us select from the 3 meat entrees! I make the suggestion to go next door, but we're settled, so we don't. After a second night of poor food (this time at $200/person) I decide that the only food to eat in London is ethnic. Although I'm sure the Chop House would have been better. Still, the company was nice, and the views impressive (at the base of the tower bridge) so it wasn't a total loss.

I think the thing I liked best about the trip was the fact that I didn't have to get up for early meetings any of the days I was here. Each morning began with me waking up at 9:15 or so. A leisurely shower and breakfast, then work at 10. I could get used to this! Maybe I was meant to work in Europe?

Thursday was another decent day of work, and it ended nice and early at 5. I got back to the hotel and John and I - being the only two left - decided to try our luck at an adventure. Several months (years?) ago I got a Anthropological study of English Pub Life. I loved it. I read it cover to cover (do you say that with a pdf?) the day it arrived in my inbox. And since I was actually in England, I desperately wanted to try it for myself. In the bar the previous evening I had gotten two recommendations. Towns that were not far away, both of which were sure to have good local pubs.

So we went to the concierge and asked. Hendley and Maindenhead? Never heard of them! So what does he do to help us? Searches on Google! Hell; I could have done that myself. Probably more successfully. In fact I am sure of it as he came up with absolutely nothing. This was very disappointing. But not to worry. He knew a place we'd love. "Interesting," he called it. Camden Town. For a long while I was convinced it sounded familiar. But then I realized there's a baseball park called Camden Yard, so I guess it was not familiar after all.

As he's giving us directions to the town, he tells us take the first train to station A, then train 2 to station B, then train 3 to station C. Three trains doesn't impress me, but as I looked over his shoulder at the map it sure looked like B and C were very close to one another. "Or we could just walk from B to C" I offered. I was touristing, after all. Seeing more sights is always a good thing. He didn't get it. "Oh, no" he replied. "You see they are on different lines. You have to switch trains." OK. I knew that part. They just looked close. I tried one more time "But they sure seem close, like you could walk between them." No dice. "You see, sir. You switch at station B to the 3rd train." Alright. Sold. I'll switch to train 3. Don't know why, but it's clearly very important to him. 3 trains it was.

Camden town was interesting. A little like the street in Seattle where the freaks all hang out. Only slightly less freaky. We walked a bit, then found a pub that looked interesting. They were advertising 5 bands for 4 pounds. I tried the American approach of shooting past the doorman so fast they think you belong. Lo and behold - It worked! We were in and drinking bitters in no time. Gotta like the assertive approach. The rest of my time there was spent watching others get accosted and pay up with a smug smile on my lips.

The bands were distinguished mostly by being loud. Really loud. I was impressed by this. But was more impressed by the fact that a women at the next table seemed very relaxed while having a conversation on her cell phone. I couldn't communicate with John on the other side of a 4 foot table and she's on the phone. Say what you will, but kids these days have some skills!
We didn't make too much of a night of it since John had to get up early to catch a flight the next morning. I went up and worked a bit more when we got back to the hotel, and spent some time plotting my plan for my day of real tourism. I have to believe I'll be back to London at some point in my life, so I didn't feel that I had to do and see everything. But there were a few must-sees. The Tower of London was one. Big Ben and Parliament another. And anything else a bonus.

I got another good night's sleep and went downstairs to check my route with the concierge. I don't know why I bothered. They were less than useless. I guess they did confirm that my route was a good one, but offered nothing of use beyond that. No matter. I was ready!

First stop was the Tower of London. Trivia question. How do you know that the tourist attraction is not in the US? Answer: when it has been a tourist attraction for 300 years. Not that it's been around for 300 years (this would be enough in the US), but that it's been a tourist attraction for 300 years! That's impressive! And it had been around for 700 years before the tourists started flocking. In fact, it was still being used housing and harming prisoners even as it was attracting tourists. It was an impressive sight. Honestly, anything 1000 years old that's still standing must be. But on top of that the stories were impressive. 300 prisoners had been condemned to death there. But when the dug up those killed to give them a decent burial they found 1500 skeletons. Oops! Where the other 1200 come from? These guys were not shy.

The other interesting part of the tour was they spent a significant portion of the space on a multiple room explanation of the gunpowder rebellion. It seems a few hundred years back a group of religious extremists plotted an act of terrorism against the government. Sounds like today, eh? They were to kill the King and Queen and most of the Lords. The most interesting thing was the terrorists themselves. Those religious terrorists who would kill in the name of their heinous god? Yup - Catholics. Gotta love that.

I spent several hours here. Much more than I had planned. But eventually I realized that I couldn't spend the entire day in one place, so I moved on. I hopped another train and got to Big Ben/ The London Eye / Parliament / Westminster Abbey / 10 Downing street. Quite a few sites in a very packed area. It called forth a reference about the English Royalty from the recesses of my mind. Can't even remember when I read it. It said the main purpose of the monarchy was as a tourist attraction. It really hit home there. It was really like I was in the world's oldest theme park. A very odd feeling. But it reinforced the feeling I had at the Tower. At the end of the tour the Beefeater (the Gin-free variety, unfortunately) who was our guide was thanking us for accompanying him. And as people walked out they were offering him tips. I expected him to refuse them. He is, after all, still on active service. He was chosen for his post after 25+ years of active service in the armed forces. But instead of refusing it was "Oh and thank YOU very much sir!" It's just tourism. Oh well. It was still impressive.

I got back to the hotel and still had my last evening. But I was alone. My initial impulse was to pop in a DVD and get room service. But I fought that back. I was going to be adventurous. So I relaxed for a bit, then headed down to the concierge. Why bother? Good question. Here's exactly what I told them: "I'm looking for a pub with decent food and good beer. It doesn't matter where in the city it is. I've got an all-day rail pass and plenty of time to kill." So - where do you suppose they sent me? No, no, after they suggested the hotel bar. Where? To the pub at the end of the block! ADVENTURE indeed. Ah well. I didn't want to wander aimlessly (well, any more), so I gave it a shot. After about 10 minutes there I remembered why I don't do this. Excepting my brief conversations with the wait staff "Another beer please." I said not a word to anyone there. Not a howdy to the couple to my right. Not a 'sup to the boys on my left. Nothing. I drank 3 beers and at my pasta in complete silence. I'm pathetic. I should have just watched a movie!

When I got back to my room I started to pack. My flight was at 10, and it took an hour to get to the airport. So I'd have to leave the hotel at 7 to be there the prescribed 2 hours early. I didn't want to have to do anything in the morning but wake up, shower, and go. I got packed, and set 2 alarms plus a wake-up call. This is my total panic scenario. I have been known to oversleep. And I am always terrified that I'll do it the night of a return flight, and that I'll be stuck in the country for another day. So I set up multiple wake points to relax myself so I can sleep.
I should have saved my effort. I work up in a panic at 1:30 (yes - after 90 minutes sleep). I looked at the clock, saw it was 1:30, added 5 hours since I was in Europe, and realized it was 6:30. DAMNIT! None of my alarms had gone off. I was luck to be awake. I needed to get going immediately!!!! I sprinted to the bathroom.

Once I got there it slowly dawned on me. The clock said 1:30?? But the clock is on the TV. It's part of the hotel. It's on local time. It really is 1:30. Oh hell. My heart is going 120 and I'm supposed to be sleeping still. Oh this is going to be a long night. I woke up again at 2:15. Then at 4. At this point it was light outside, which is always good for inducing panic. But no, still nowhere near time to get up. Finally after 2 or 3 more starts my blackberry alarm goes off. OK. Honestly at this point I'm happy to be awake. It wasn't like I was getting much out of lying in bed and bursting up every 20 minutes or so.

Funny thing was my panic was well earned. Of my 2 alarms only one went off. And the wakeup call never came. Love that British service!

The morning went exactly to plan. I got up. Showered. Did the last minute packing, and headed off for the station. Even at this hour the train was the fastest way to the airport. And 1/4 the cost of a cab. I got to the station, bought my ticket, and went to the platform. There are two lines that come to that platform. Circle (my line) and Wimbledon. The first train was a W. And the one after as well. When the third W train pulled up I started to get a little worried. I happened upon a worker and asked about the circle. "Oh, it's not running today" she replied very nonchalantly. Um, OK. But then how do I get to Victoria station? Easy enough! Train 1 to station A, 2 to station b, then 3 takes you to Victoria. Hoo boy. Good thing I practiced this routine previously in my trip.

I knew I'd get there fine. But the extra trains were costing me time. I was starting to get worried that I'd be tight on my flight. I had no worries about missing the flight, but I didn't want to be hassled when I arrived - "Yes, sir. I know your flight doesn't leave for 90 minutes, but you're supposed to be here 2 hours early and we've given your Business class seat away." That sort of thing. I made the best time I could, and got to Victoria just in time to miss the 7:45. No biggie, I caught the 8:00 and was on my way.

Since I had time to kill, I checked into my blackberry. I did stare at the countryside for a bit, but it gets repetitive. So I connected I checked in. And what's the first message a see? From Delta Airlines. And what do you suppose the odds are that it was good news? Slim? None? Yup. My flight has been delayed 2 hours! And the message hadn't been sent until I was already on the train. So all the panic of the previous evening? The early rising? The rush? All for nothing. I was not happy. But - what can you do? You can't even really yell at anyone, as whatever caused your delay is not the poor soul facing your wrath. So I slipped further into my iPod and waited to get to the airport.

When I arrived I went to check in. I knew I'd be waiting a while, but wanted to get security over with. At check in the guy asks if I'm checking any bags. No; I reply. I never check bags. Even for a week in Europe. If I can't fit in in my carry on I don't need it. "Well then, how many bags are you bringing on board?" Just the one I say, pointing to my carry-on. "What about your backpack?" he asks. Well, that doesn't count as a bag, does it? Like a ladies purse doesn't count? It's always one bag plus a small tote. And it is. Just not at Gatwick. But don't worry. Just cram your backpack into your carry on, get it through security, and you can take them apart after. Well gee, normally I'd be too rushed to do that. But since you guys have been kind enough to delay my flight 2 hours I guess I can spend 15 minutes re-packing everything.
It takes a while, but I get it crammed in. Off to security I go. And what's the first thing I see when I get there? One of those 'size-wise' bag grids. You know - the things that determine if your bag is too big. And naturally, since I had crammed my entire backpack inside, it now was. So back to check in I go. I can't believe what this would have been like traveling coach. Their check in line was 45 minutes long! And I would have had to have come through it a second time. Not good. That thought was the only thing that kept me from yelling at the idiot with the clever suggestion my last time through. I repacked everything *again*, checked my carry-on (guess I need a new name for it now), and headed off to security.

Security wasn't bad. Everyone got patted down, but nothing crazy. And since I'm in business class I can use the crown room. But you want to know how shitty the Gatwick Delta Crown Room is? They don't have wireless internet. But you know what's even worse? They know the code to the wireless in the Emirates lounge (the signal is strong enough to reach them) and they happily hand it out to their customers!! I make a mental note to check the chips on board to see if they stole them from Emirates. Wouldn't put it past the cheap bastards!

We got called at 11:30, and went off to board. No problems with luggage any more. They took care of that but not letting anyone bring any on board!! But after I got into my seat the dreaded announcement comes on. Yup, delayed again. No pilot. Curse them! We finally get into the air about 1:00. Fully 4 hours after schedule. But you know what the funny thing is? With media reports of travel nightmares I actually am relieved. They have successfully lowered the bar on us.

Maybe Mom is right. Does Greyhound go to Europe?

2007-03-29T09:10:00.000-04:00

Courage

By Denis Jei McGrath

Courage is like the stars lighting up the night without the moon
Or like a dolphin swimming across the Pacific Ocean by himself
It is like a tiny dragon, ready to fly for his first time
Courage is like a yellow chickadee, flying through a blizzard

[The result of the most recent artist in residence program at SVF. This round was a writer.]

2007-03-29T09:04:00.000-04:00

Wasabi Dies

Denis and Liam both got fish almost 2 years ago. They were what we would have called Siamese fighting fish. These days they're called Beta's. Or maybe they're different? Who can tell?

Anyway, about 6 months ago they suddenly went from very active and good looking to sluggish and mottled. So there was a late-night rush to the pet store, where we invested in everything we could find that was supposed to improve their condition.

And they didn't die. Not immediately anyway. Actually they lasted quite long. But yesterday Liam's fish, Wasabi, finally succumbed. I came down in the morning to find him crying into his cereal. I knew immediately what had happened. Wasabi had barely moved the previous day, and I guessed his time with us was coming to an end. I was right. And Liam was devastated.

I had a VB game that night, so I wasn't around for the funeral. Liam made and decorated a casket for him. Then he went off by himself for a bit, came back, and they went into the garden to bury him. Liam marked the grave with a lovely shell.

The next night I had just gotten home from work and was in the family room with Mandy and Mimi. Liam was sitting in a chair next to us. Mandy looked at him, and asked if I knew what happened to his head. His head? Hell, as long as it was still attached I was cool. Still - I looked. No blood. That was good. Then I noticed that the top of his head did look odd. There was a line across his hair. Not a line of ink or anything like that. His hair was in a very sharp line about at the top of his head, from ear to ear. It looked very odd.

I asked him what had happened. He answered very slowly. You could tell he was wondering if he would get into trouble. He began to relay the story of the previous day. When Wasabi died and was to be buried he couldn't bear the thought of them being apart. So he snuck off, found a pair of scissors, and cut off a section of his hair, which he put into the casket with Wasabi!

I looked at him, stunned. I know there are plenty of cultures who bury cherished items with them, group burials, etc. But I'm fairly sure he hasn't been exposed to much of that. It was something he came up with all by himself. You could tell it was something very meaningful for him.

He didn't get into trouble. He could have cut it all off if this was what he had in mind. I still get choked up even thinking about it.

2007-02-21T18:34:00.000-05:00

Where did that come from?

I was on my way home from work today, driving along as always. Suddenly, in the lane to my left I heard a loud noise. It sounded like someones engine had just dropped out of their car. As I looked I realized it was something even more odd.

The car was an old green Oldsmobile. Achieva or something equally unremarkable. There were three teenage boys inside. They were all looking at me. And they were revving their engine!

I have to explain. I'm 41 years old. I drive a Volvo. A Volvo! Teenage boys do not dare me to race. And yet, here they were. The passenger even rolled down his window - presumably to lay down the challenge. As much as I wanted to hear his offer I held back. Because not only was I an old man in a staid sedan, but we were stopped at a light. And were, in fact, both stuck behind big SUVs. Where the hell were we going to race to anyway?

Didn't seem to bother them. They kept right on revving away, looking my way, smiling. I smiled back. When the light turned green the two lanes branched off to the left. But I was going straight. So we inched forward in sync. Then the car in front of me veered left, leaving the road clear in front. I hit the gas and disappeared. Because while I do drive a Volvo, it is the high-pressure turbo, with 247hp going through a manual transmission (I think there's a Beach Boys song in there somewhere). I was gone in a flash!

But sure enough, 1/2 mile down the road there's the green Olds behind me again. Still revving his engine as we cruise at 25, stuck behind another car. Finally, I got bored, swung across the yellow, and passed poky. My new friends do me one better, swinging past our roadblock and me! Now it's their turn to show off. I'm guessing they were quite confused about their inability to pull away from me. Heh, heh! After a mile or so of trying to lose me they ended up turning, I'm guessing back to their original route. I honked and waved as they left. They turned a boring commute into some fun for me. Been a long time since that has happened.

Thing I still can't grasp is why on earth they'd try to race me? Think it was the Flying Spaghetti Monster on the back?

2007-02-20T08:54:00.000-05:00

They're dead, Jim! [In my best Dr. McCoy voice]

I don't know what it is about new construction. Certainly nothing in the actual building of our house was this well timed. But the self destruct in two of the kitchen appliances have now gone off.

3 weeks ago it was the garbage disposal. No big deal there. All garbage disposals built in the last 50 years have a standard mount. Just pop off the old one, pop on the new, and you're in business. Right? Sure. Unless your cheap-arsed builder used a $10 knock off bought on special in Korea (probably North, where the standard mount hasn't caught on yet). Yeah. 10 minute job turned into two sweating hours under the sink cracking it off section by section praying I wasn't going to chip the sink. But I got it on. It runs great. And it's so silent I wasn't sure it was working at first. (Hint - don't check if it's working by reaching inside it!)

This weekend - it was the dishwasher. It had started to get a little temperamental. It would stop in the middle of a cycle, sit there for a while, then start back up again. Or not. Finally when it gave me a near heart attack by noisily starting back up as I reached for a glass in the cabinet above it I decided it was time. I found a nice Consumer Reports Best Buy at Sears and brought it home. I am pleased to report that there was nothing funky about the install. Electric, water in, and drain tube were all standard pieces. The total job took less than an hour. Not bad for my first time. And no leaks! So life is good.

Or is it? Kind of makes you wonder what's next. I can't imagine the stove or oven are ready to die. But what about the things you never see? The water heater? The furnace? I am not looking forward to either of those going out - though replacing both of them with larger, more efficient units does have an appeal. Something tells me it won't be long!

BTW - I have to give a shout out to the village. I wasn't at all sure they'd take it, but the garbage guys took the old dishwasher from out by the curb. Thanks, guys!

2007-01-27T16:04:00.000-05:00

Derby Night!

Last night was Pinewood derby night for the older boy's Cub Scout den. This is always a time of much stress in the house. For the boys, as they would love nothing more than to show up their friends. And for me, as I am the lucky guy who runs this event.

Historically, the boys have not fared well in this activity. Last year there were 33 cars in the race. Denis ended up in 32nd place. Liam did somewhat better, all the way up in 26th. There should be no reason to complain about this. We did our cars in one evening (the one before the race, naturally). We spent all our time cutting and sanding that there was no time for speed tricks (if we knew any). And while there was no reason to complain, that sure didn't stop Denis. He was very upset. In tears at one point (after his third straight 3rd place finish).

I was determined to do better this year. And how would any good father address this challenge? With a trip to the hardware store, of course! Over $100 of tools later, and suddenly we were in business. I got a Dremel, some new hacksaw blades, hobbyist metal file, and a few other odds and ends. And we started early on the cars. Not exactly the day we got them, in early December. And not exactly during Christmas break as we had thought. Well, Wednesday night, actually. But this was still an entire day earlier than last year!

And the Dremel came with a DVD with some helpful tips. Naturally, as with most construction projects, when they are presented the tips sound like the simplest things in the world. Doing them? Another matter entirely. Still, we used the idea of drawing out the design and tracing it on the wood black for cutting guidance. And I learned how to smooth the wheels and axles. So not a total waste.

The construction was pretty straightforward - this is our 3rd year after all. And you could tell the go-fast tricks really helped. Liam brought down last year's car. We spun the wheel. It went around 4 or 5 times and stopped. No wonder it was slow! Then we spun a wheel on the new car. Oh my! You couldn't even count the rotations. The improvement was incredible. I started to foster some hopes, still tempering them with the knowledge that there were Dads who had been working on this for months. Who have secret family tuning secrets that they'll never share which they've passed down through the generations. But still - hope was glimmering.

I got everyone registered and ready to go, and before long Denis came up in a heat. I was so nervous! And in looking at him I could tell he was too. The board dropped, and his car jumped out of the gate. The other cars closed, but he held them off. He won his heat! This was a first. And the smile on his face was a mile wide.

Next was Liam's turn. And he won too! Now the smile was on my face. I was one of the 'in' dads now. I had the secrets to pass to future generations of McGraths. Denis came up again, and won again. Liam ran again, and took second. Life was good. The last prelim heat was the nervewracker. Denis vs. Liam. Someone wasn't going to be happy. It was close, but Liam won, with Denis taking second.

So after the prelim rounds Denis and Liam were tied for the 6 seed out of 27 cars. I was ecstatic. We had still put almost no effort into the car, and they were among the fastest in the field. Awesome.

After the prelims are the elimination rounds. The top 3 come out of there and go to the finals. It took several rounds for Liam to come up. He ran, and came in a close second. So he was out. But still very pleased with his result.

Next was Denis. He ran, and also took second. He was now out also. And was he happy? Pleased with his incredible improvement from last year. Of course not! No - he was running out into the hallway near tears again.

I have to confess I was a little frustrated. He told me his car sucked. I couldn't believe it. We spent no time on the project, he was in the top 1/4 of the cars. He was way better than last year. And he was still mad. I'll never get him.

On the plus side, as we talked about it on the way home he perked up a bit. And when he told Mimi he left off the 'sucked' part. And today they both seem to have good feelings about the results.

And for me? The Access application I wrote to manage the process worked flawlessly. Including projecting heats up onto a screen so everyone could see who was racing. Many compliments from the parents. So I still rock.

But for both the cars and the software I've already got ideas for improvements for next year!

Can't wait!

2006-12-05T19:51:00.000-05:00

More travel fun

I'm off at a conference in Salt Lake City this week. OK, technically it's Deer Valley, but close enough. Incredible area. The views are stunning, and the amount of wealth running around threatens to dwarf the mountains. No matter how well off you think you are, come out here for a week and you'll be feeling downright poor (at least by comparison).

I'm staying at a 'hotel' called The Chateaux at Silver Lake at Deer Valley. Quite the name, eh? And notice that I put the noun in quotes. There is good reason for this. Here's how check in went.

I go to the front desk. Perfectly normal. They take my credit card and give me a room key. Fine. I head off to my room (which, naturally, since I'm carrying all my ski equipment, is in another building). I get to the room, open the door, and look around. OK, this is a little different.

The first thing I see is my breakfast table. With 4 chairs. That's a little much for a hotel room.

Next impression is the cooking island. Huh? With bar stool. That, naturally, leads my eye to the kitchen. Not kitchenette, kitchen! How do I distinguish between the two? Well, if it's got a full size subzero refrigerator it ain't no stinkin' 'ette!'

And that's not all. This kitchen is complete. Oven. Pots and pans. Glasses and dishes. Microwave. Coffee maker. Blender!! Toaster. Coffee bean grinder! Probably more I didn't even find.

Wow! I am well on my way to being impressed. I'm a VIP presenter at the conference, and I'm starting to think that I got the seriously upgraded room.

This perception is short-lived.

After dropping my bags I look around for the bedroom. There are a bunch of interior doors. I open the coat closet by the door and it's the bathroom. OK. I'm flexible.

I try the next 4 doors. 3 are locked, and the last is the closet. And that's all the doors there are. Hmmmm. I scan the rest of the room. Couch. Coffee table. 2 chairs. Fireplace. All very nice, but, um, where the hell's my bedroom??

I call the front desk. "Hey guys, hate to bother you and all, but where exactly is my bedroom?"

"Oh, sir, you have a Murphy bed."

"OK, and is in the Murphy bedroom? Is this like the White House or something?"

"Oh, no, sir. You pull it out of the wall!"

"I what?"

"Pull it out of the wall."

It's about now that I notice the expanse of wall paneled is such a way that it doesn't really match the rest of the room. With two handles. You have got to be kidding me! But no. I pull it down and check it out. It's actually pretty comfortable. And it's nice to sleep on.

So it turns out this isn't really a hotel. They rent the rooms like one, but the rooms are condos owned by the various rich people I've been seeing around. When the owners come to visit, they open all those locked doors and have a lovely 3 bedroom, 3 bath, suite with a nice kitchen (that'd be my room!)

Thing is, though, if you have someone checking in to your 'hotel,' don't you think this is the kind of thing that you might mention? Or maybe not. Perhaps the only fun the staff has here is watching the hapless guests try to figure out where to sleep.

I wonder how many have ended up on the couch.

2006-11-12T19:23:00.000-05:00

Stories from Geneva

I am now in a new role and work, with a new manager. This required a trip to Geneva to meet with him and my new Western European counterpart. It was a very productive trip from a business POV (which it had better be working 38 hours in 3 days). Clarified our roles and expectations. Gave ourselves titles. And Agreed to working principles. All good there.
The personal side was, as always, entertaining. Some small vignettes from the tour:

As usual, I arrived in the morning on a Tuesday, but didn't work that day. I stayed up as long as I could (6pm), slept as long as I could (7am) and did my best at work Wednesday. It worked fairly well. I was set to get a good long night's sleep on Wednesday night. It didn’t' happen. Dinner went late, but not too bad. I was back to the hotel at 10:30 and ready to sleep. So I set the alarm for 8 and fell into bed. I was sleeping soundly when the alarm went off. Only it was much louder that I am used to from my small watch. This was VERY loud and insistent. BEEP-BEEP-BEEP. I grabbed for my watch, fumbled with the buttons, but the beeping didn’t stop. It was about now that I realized that the TV was on. OK. Strange. I didn't turn it on the previous evening. But there it was, glowing the in the dark of the room. And as I started to come into consciousness I realized that the beeping was also coming from the TV set. My only thought was "I have to turn off the TV!" I didn't know why it had decided to switch itself on, but I wanted it off. I had a vague fear that this was some kind of emergency - the hotel was on fire maybe? No idea. I fumbled for the light switch, turned it on, and saw the remote next to the TV set. I reached for it, still in a panic, yet finally able to read the words on the screen. "You have a message from the front desk!" WHAT?!?!! A message. NOW? [Picture John McEnroe] "You can NOT be serious!" But sure enough. Enter my room number - 404 - and here's the payoff. Someone has left me a present. How nice. Now shut the hell up and let me get back to bed! To bed, but not to sleep. That's lost to me now. Shit.

After work on Thursday I went to dinner at a Thai restaurant. You know how everyone complains that service in Europe is horrible? Well here's why: 1. When we arrive at the restaurant it's 8:30. It's a medium-sized place. Maybe 15 tables. Only 1 is occupied. We approach the head water and say we have two for dinner. He asks - incredulous - "You do not have a reservation??" Um, no. But seeing as you have FOURTEEN EMPTY TABLES perhaps you could see it in the goodness of your heart to seat us anyway, eh? 2. After graciously agreeing to seat us, we are asked if we'd prefer smoking to non-smoking. Non-smoking, naturally. You have to wonder where they'll put the smokers since it's really just one big room. Perhaps there's another room off to the side for the smokers. Me? I don't have to wonder. I know where they put the smokers - AT THE TABLE NEXT TO US! You know, why even waste the breath asking the question? Since he's probably a smoker himself he should probably ration his oxygen. 3. I order my meal. Pad Thai. Not too adventurous, I know. But I like it, and don't have it too often, so I don't feel bad ordering it. After I place my order I was ready to be asked how spicy I want it. I am not asked. OK. So since the waitress speaks English (I'm not about to try this in French) I tell her - I'd like it to a medium level of spiciness. She looks in my direction; and walks away. The meal comes out shortly. My first thought is how well they've spiced it. My question is quickly answered by the waitress, who shows up carrying a small bowl of chili-peppers in an oil mix. Ah, the message is now clear. "OK, Mr. Picky, you want medium spice? Well spice it your damn self!" Lovely. I wonder - if I had wanted clean dishes would I have been given a wash rag?

I had considered getting Mimi an expensive watch for Christmas. Perhaps a Rolex. But soon after I had the thought I ran into a couple who owned them. They said many nice things about them - marvels of engineering, never needs batteries, can dive to any depth, and so on. Then, after laying it on for a bit come out with the other side. Oh yeah, the only thing is they don't keep time very well... Um, pardon me? Isn't it, well, a watch? And one of the most expensive ones on the planet? Isn't it's purpose to tell you what time it is? It would seem not. It will lose 1-2 seconds a day. A DAY! My $20 Casio won't lose that in a year. But the Rolex? Every day. Precision engineering, that. Well, I'm telling this story to my new boss, and my usual exaggerative manner, and I get to the part about them not telling time and I toss out "And it turns out they're pieces of shit! Damn things can't even keep time!" I was watching his expression, and knew that something was up, but kept ranting for another few minutes anyway. Finally, when I finished, and the new boss couldn't contain himself any more, he jumps into the conversation. "Oh, no, Denis. They are such amazing instruments. They are works of art!" "Uh, yeah. Works of art that don't tell time. Why not buy a painting and a Casio instead?" You can imagine where this conversation went. So after all the dust settles? Yup - new boss owns a Rolex! Several, in fact. Actually, he's a watch collector! Damn! Talk about the wrong foot. He will never wear a watch that requires a battery. The watch on his wrist has a story behind it - some kind of antique. Can't say I really listened to the story. Fun stuff. The cool thing is, though, that even though we held differing points of view, I love hearing people talk about their passions. Doesn't matter what it is. Sports, intellectual pursuits, hobbies, whatever. If they love it, and express themselves well, it's fun to hear. I'm still not in the market for a Rolex though.

2006-11-06T17:07:00.000-05:00

Marathon Weekend

Mimi and I headed up to NY for the NYC Marathon this weekend. Naturally, she was running, and I was pit crew. This has been our arrangement for all 5 of her marathons. For the weekend, she's the elite athlete, and my job is to make sure that everything is taken care of for her so she can focus on the race.

Seems only fair since she takes care of me the other 51 weeks.

We got up early, met Kathleen at the airport, and got into NY right on time. A quick cab ride and a metro and we were at Uncle Jimmy's work. We dumped our bags and grabbed lunch with him. There was an Irish bar/grill nearby called O Farrell's. According to U Jim it used to be a favorite of my Dad's. How could I turn that down? And it was great. Good food. Good beer. I decided I was going to enjoy the weekend.

The Expo was OK. Nothing special. No great deals to be had. A bunch of marathon stuff at full list price. So I didn't get anything. But we did pick up all the required loot, then went back to see U Jim.

Jimmy drove us off to NJ, where we were meeting up with U Tom and family for a little party for Mimi. It was very nice. Quite a few people stopped in. It's always fun hanging out with the family. They are all extremely entertaining. When everyone had left, Terry, U Tom, and I headed out to the local bar for a couple drinks. Getting U Tom by himself is a treat. He's got a ton of good stories, and is very good at telling them all. I got a few nice ones about my Dad, which is fun.

We crashed at U Tom's for the evening, then had him drive us into the City the next morning. We checked into our hotel (got our room with 2 double beds!) and grabbed lunch. Then Tom headed back into Jersey, and Mimi and I went shopping.

I got Mimi hooked on SKII skin care products a few years back. It's an expensive habit. She had a $50 Saks gift card, so we went there to restock her supply. After a brief evaluation, she got 3 items. And her gift card covered about 10% of the cost. Ouch. But there's the Christmas present!

After that it was souvenirs for the kids. We scored most of them, but broke off the trip because we had been walking too much. I didn't want Mimi's legs to be dead, so I strongly encouraged her to head back to the hotel and relax. When Terry came in to join us he and I finished off the shopping.

Dinner was at a nice Italian restaurant. Good food. Awful service. Guy had a real NY attitude. But I enjoyed my meal, and Mimi got her carbs. So we were both OK.

Back at the hotel we had the standard pre-race panics. What should I wear? What should I bring with? Where will we meet after? Terry and I calmed them as much as we could. But it was never going to manage all their jitters. Terry took off for NJ around 10, and we all went to bed soon after. It was not the best sleep.

Kathleen and Mimi woke early, got dressed, and snuck out without really waking me. Quite considerate! I got up with the alarm at 8, and Terry came by soon after. He brought me my coffee and doughnut. Great guy, Terry! We headed off to start our half of the adventure. We got onto the subway, and immediately ran into some other pit crews. We exchanged info on our athletes, made reciprocal cheering arrangements (What's she wearing? What's her name? OK - we'll look for her!), and shared viewing strategies. Ours was to go to 4, 8, 16, 22, 25, and the finish. This would be a record for viewing stops. All credit to Terry for working out the details!

We got to 4 early. We saw the lead men go through. We saw Lance. Then we saw Mimi and Kathleen! Right where we expected them. It was perfect. We were getting cocky about our abilities already. After a quick cheer and a hi-5 they were back to their race and we were back to the subway.

We got to 8, and found a good viewing location. So far there wasn't much of a crowd. Enough people to make the runners feel good, but not too many so that it made our life difficult. Again, right on time, they came through. We did our best to pep them up, and then we were both off to our next stop.

At this point, both of them were looking very strong. They looked happy. As if they were really enjoying themselves. As for Terry and I - we were definitely enjoying ourselves! We were doing the standard marathon cheer. Wait for someone to come by with a name on the shirt. Cheer loudly for them. And get rewarded with a smile or wave. It brings such a good feeling.

The trek to 16 was long. It took us nearly an hour to get there. Thankfully it took them even longer. This was our first challenge of the day. Coming off the Queesnboro bridge the spectator density is the highest on the whole course. They were lined up 5-6 deep here. And they were back behind barriers. Both were new sights for me. And not welcome ones. This was where I was planning on jumping in to pace Mimi for a bit. Damn!

I decided to simply appeal to the good nature of a few spectators and asked if I could jump in front while I waited for my wife. Let's see. Where was I again? Oh yeah. NY. Yeah. That didn't work so well. You'd think I had just asked for the keys to his car. Oh well. When in Rome and all. So I just pushed past him and dared him to do anything about it. He grumbled and complained, but didn't do anything.

It took 10 minutes of frantic scanning to find them. And then it was just Kathleen. I hurdled the barrier, crossed the street, and met up with her. She said Mimi wasn't feeling well and had dropped off the pace. That wasn't good news. She was really hoping to run fast this time. Oh well. I let Kathleen go and waited for Mimi. It was a little awkward. Here I am standing on the side of the road. Inside the barriers. Within eyesight of a cluster of policemen. Not running. No number. Luckily they behaved a NYC's finest are reputed to. They saw nothing.

A couple minutes later Mimi can by. And Kathleen was right. She didn't look good any more. She wasn't smiling. And she sure as hell wasn't talking. And she had 10 miles to go. This is exactly why I don't do marathons! I jumped in and started a stream of one-sided conversations. Told her all about the day so far. What Terry and I had been up to. Who we had met. She didn't so much as look at me. Not good.

It didn't take long for us to get to mile 22 in Harlem. I knew Terry wasn't thrilled about us meeting there. "Not a nice neighborhood" was how he described it. But not too bad at noon on race day. He survived. As we got close to the point where I was to drop out I decided Mimi needed a little more support. So when I spotted Terry I yelled out "I'm sticking with her. I'll see you at mile 25!" He didn't have time to reply before we were gone.

I kept running and talking. Trying anything I could think of to keep her mind off the pain and discomfort. I don't know how it went for her, but it went by very quickly for me. Before I knew it we were at mile 25. And it was packed again! I ran past looking for Terry, but never did see him. No issue there. I wouldn't have been able to get off the course anyway. I kept running, but by now all I was doing was looking at the barriers. As soon as I spotted one of the shorter ones I wished Mimi luck and jumped off the course.

As I crossed the street to get to the side I walked up to a couple watching the race. I said "Well, that's enough for me!" And prepared to hop the fence. The look on their faces was incredulity. "Are you sure?" they asked. "It's less than 1/2 mile to the finish." They thought I had run 25.7 miles and was quitting with 800 meters to go! No wonder they were shocked. I explained that I was just pacing my wife and ran off to find her.

By this point I had been on my feet all day, and had run 11 miles or so. Way more than I had planned. I was tired out. But I needed to get to the finish. A park ranger was kind enough to direct me to a tunnel that took me out of the park, and I went to our arranged meeting place. There was nobody there to meet. I walked up and down the block a couple times. Still nobody. I ran over a few blocks to see if they had misunderstood the plan. Nobody. Finally, after about an hour of searching (and freezing my a** off in my slightly damp running clothes) I saw Kathleen. They were forced to take a different exit from the park, and Mimi wasn't strong enough to walk down to the meeting place. OK - but where was Terry? Like a bad joke, he was waiting 10 yards from me on the other side of the dump trucks blocking the street. With all my nice warm clothes in the pack on his back. Man I wish I had walked around the trucks one last time!

We got Mimi - who was indeed in bad shape, got to Kathleen's friend's apartment, and everyone got warmed up. Then Terry was off for NJ, and Mimi and I were off to the hotel. We figured to just take a cab, but there were none to be found. So even though I hated to, we took the subway. You know those stories you hear about rush hour subways in Japan? The scene was kinda like that. Only with stinky, sweaty, tired runners. I felt sorry for them. A woman on the train had a subway map, so I looked it over and picked our exit on 59th. When I gave it back to her she mentioned that she had just finished (pretty obvious, actually) and that she lost her friend and didn't know how to get to her apartment. It was on our way, so I offered for her to follow up. It took no extra time on our part, but you could tell that it meant the world to her. Without some support, I'm guessing she would have just sat down on the curb and cried. In fact she did cry when we got her to her friend. What a great feeling.

We both got showered and into clean clothes, then headed out to our celebration dinner. My cousin Kevin joined us for it. A very nice meal. Ocean Grill on Columbus. Great waiter. Decent food. And OK prices. Mimi learned that Kevin waited on tons of celebrities and that was it for her for the evening. Every question from that point on centered on who he'd met and what they were like. She got her People fix for the next month.

Kevin wanted to take us out for some entertainment afterwards, and to my surprise, Mimi was up for it. He took us to two amazing piano bars. Incredible performers. A level of quality you just don't get in Cincinnati. We stayed until about closing. Then Kevin poured us into a cab to get us back to the hotel. We got to bed late, and both woke up tired and hung over.

Mimi got off to LGA to get back to Cincinnati, and I sit here typing in the lounge at JFK on my way to Geneva. It was a wonderful weekend. We're sore, tired, beat up, but wouldn't have traded it for anything. And I've come away with an appreciation for how wonderful family can be. Between U Jimmy, U Tom, Terry, Kevin, and all the others who made us feel so welcomed we feel very blessed to have such a large and wonderful family.

Now - no beer for a week, and no running for at least that long!

2006-10-23T17:10:00.000-04:00

I know it's not nice to make fun of older people's lack of computer skills, but I just have to share this one.

Mimi and I are going to NY for the Marathon, so I asked Uncle Tom for a list of emails of local relatives.

I asked because he regularly sends out emails to these folks, so I thought it would be an easy task.

First I get an email back saying that he's not computer adept so it'll take a while.

Then I get a call asking for my fax number (!)

Then I get the following email. He's written down everyone's address. Then scanned the page or took a picture of it. Then mailed it to me.

OMG.

I mean, c'mon. The kicker here is that I am 99+% sure he got the email addresses off his computer. And instead of copying and pasting into an email message body he goes this rube goldberg approach.

I am now officially scared of how the kids are going to make fun of me when I'm 75.

2006-10-23T12:52:00.000-04:00

Liam got a new telescope from his book order from school. Magnification up to 50x. He spent an hour today looking through it at the nature in the backyard and making the observations below. Nobody asked him to. He just thought it would be fun. Oh. Yeah. And he's 7. [To be fair - I did correct some of his spelling errors!]

Pine bush log up close is orange from sunlight.

Tree’s leaves look like faces when looking through the holes in the openings.

When a bunch of leaves up close are moving in the wind, it looks like the leaves are joining together in the millions.

The colorful leaves look like a beautiful art picture.

Up close, leaves look like huge nuts in the grass.

Cuts in the big tree, make the tree look like a nice tan smooth piece of a log.

Branches look like big snakes slithering to the trees.

The leaves in the background make all the leaves swirl violently