It was all just too easy

I got Cal to the orthodontist this morning a little early and the next thing I knew he was done. We went to school so I could drop off a key for the new guy and it went by fast. I am looking at a pretty good teaching schedule on top if it all. Went to Home Depot to make a return. Two minutes in and out. Went to the bank to talk about an auto loan. Out the door with time to spare. Dropped of a prescription, in the drive thru at Walgreens. No line, three minutes. Even with drive time it was only an hour. It was too easy.

When we got home the girls were up and about. No skating today. Coach had called and Kylie is fighting off a summer cold. No big whoop. Time to check the email to see if I had a deal I could live with yet for a new car. No bites yet, but it is only 10:30. Cal is starting on the baseboards, yee-haw! Another job I do not have to do. Another $40 for him.

11:00 and I have a deal on the car I want. Auto loan in hand. Lunch before going to the dealership. I'm trying to find the hiccup, I'm waiting for Murphy to show me his laws. It isn't going to happen just yet. I'm sure he is waiting at the dealer.

1:30 we are at the dealership. The MINI looks great in its final glory. A quick detail by me last night left it in beautiful condition. I still can't stand the car. Noisy, small. No practical value at all. We meet with the assistant to who I've been working with through email. The price is done, he is there for what color, let me check your trade, it's been nice working with you.

He comes back after the trade with an acceptable offer right off the bat. I'm still waiting. The phone. "What was that? I already told them 16. You told me 16. They are going to walk." Ahh, Murphy has arrived. He knows we are going to leave. Apologizes mightily for his arrogant general manager. It's only 1:45. I already have the answer after 15 minutes. At least I know. I tell him to call me if anything changes.

Krista is pissed. She hates everything involved with the game of car buying. She is angry, not at me, not at the salesman, not at anything other then the idiocy of the system. We are about half way to getting the kids. Cell rings. "Hello. Is that the best he can do? Is it in ink? Your sure? I'll call you back in a couple of minutes once I get stopped to talk it over." The backup offer has shown up to boot Murphy in the rear. $200 less than what I wanted, but a good fall back none-the-less. The change is a dollar or two on the monthly. "Start writing it up, we will be back in a few minutes."

The transaction proceeds smoothly. No extra sales job. Nothing. The salesman knows we aren't buying extended warranties, or gap, or body rust inhibitor, or any of those things that everybody tells you are crap. We are over to finance and it moves quickly again. Sign here, you sure you don't want that there, what's that loan at? I can beat that. No extra paperwork. A little more money in your pocket. Done.

We go through the checklist of all the bells and whistles and do-dads that go along with the purchase. The sales staff even catches the error in paperwork BEFORE we are off the lot. Everything works as promised. The deal is done. Krista was able to read a couple chapters in her book. We are out the door. It's 4:00. Two hours thirty minutes. That includes the leaving and going back.

I don't have any remorse for this one. I didn't get screwed. They made a fair deal. It didn't ruin my day like it usually does. Krista is thrilled because she has a car that she can use, a car she can drive with more than a book of stamps in it. I'm happy because I didn't even get close to angry customer mode. No confrontation.

My sister-in-law has had a rough patch as of late. She is a CPA and although tax season is over, it never is really over. Her husband lost his job, and has started a new one. Her oldest is being potty trained and is almost there. Michelle has been dealing with a mother's stress of sending her oldest to preschool as well. It has hit her like a tsunami. By her own admission it has been downright crappy. She told Krista that she finally had some hope this weekend. She finally could see the sunny side of the street. All this and she too ended up with a flat tire.

My misery thy name is MINI

Krista went off with Kylie at 2:00 to ice skating.  Normal Monday routine.  At 2:15 she was back.  "The tire light went off in the car again."  Normal routine.

We have an oddball garage at home.  I have an enormous, overpowered, Nissan Titan truck (which has actually hauled quite a bit during its tenure) and Krista has a tiny, overpowered, MINI Cooper S.  It is the bane of our car time together these last 17 years.  

The MINI is a blast to drive, when you actually have some open space to drive it.  It handles flawlessly and it can downright fly.  When it is all cleaned up and spiffed out, it is one hot little ride.  When they first came out she wanted one.  Luckily, we still had another car payment we were making.  

We have enjoyed the following cars together over the past 17 years:

Suzuki Samuari

Toyota Corolla (which was Krista's, then her dad's, then mine)

Nissan Altima

Nissan Quest (had to get the minivan when the kid showed up)

Toyota Pickup (off a used lot and boy was it used)

VW Golf

VW Passat 

and the two current carbon footprint eaters.  I can say with all certainty, I hate cars now.  

I really love cars.  I go out and test drive cars on a pretty regular basis.  I read about cars, do research, ponder, dream.  But when the rubber meets the road, I hate them.  We have decided that the best car is the one that has no payment.  The reality is it is nothing more than a big batch of metal that gets you from where you are to where you aren't.

The recent ruin of GM and Chrysler are the underpinning of poorly designed cars.  They had nothing that anyone wanted to buy.  The cars themselves weren't all shoddy, but they had no appeal.  There was no lust, no want, nothing that made you sit up and take notice.  I don't care what my car looks like as long as it runs, does the job with little of my effort, and does not cause me a headache.

The MINI does not fit my definition, nor Krista's, any longer.  She is tired of loading for a full day of work and skating in a car that is literally not much longer than your fridge if it were laying down.  The trunk is the size of one of those mini-fridges that you keep in the TV room so you don't have to get up and miss your stories.  Cal, who is now almost as tall as Krista, has to bend himself in half to occupy the back seat.  With a full car, it sounds like the kids are sitting on our laps and screaming in our ears.  

I'm hoping that the MINI will not be around much longer.  So is Krista.  So if you're in the market . . . 

The Doldrums of Summer

The kids have been out of school for 11, count that, 11 days and already have begun to mutiny.  Today Kylie was bored and Cal was tired.  Let's have a little recap of what they have done recently.

Kylie--on Wednesday went and played at Melinda's house for 3 hours before going to ice skating.  On Thursday went to a Roller Skating party.  On Friday went to Disneyland, her new painting class AND had a sleepover at Melinda's house.  Saturday she lazed a bit trying to catch up.  Today she was just bored (after having to be rousted out of bed at 9:30).

Cal--on Wednesday went to a friend's house the entire day.  He and Colin were given free reign on their bikes to explore all the Fountain Valley had to offer.  Thursday, not much really.  Played in the pool, read, played on his computer.  Friday, Disneyland and then stayed up till 10:00 watching Smackdown!  Saturday the pool again, a little bit of work around the house with dad.  Today, like his sister, out of bed at 9:30.  Went over and made a cool $50, his iPod Touch fund, working all afternoon for his grandmother cleaning and weeding.

I remember my mother telling me that I was simply not allowed to say I was bored during the summer.  I was at the pool, on my bike or playing a game with friends all summer long.  I didn't have to make phone calls because all of my friends were within walking distance or at the most a simple bike ride away.  No elaborate play dates or get-to-gethers.  Just go out and do something.  I can't remember so much as a shower during the summer prior to my teenage years simply because I spent so much time doing so many other things, and ended (began, never left) at the pool.

Kylie has ice skating four days a week minimum.  she now has this art class on Friday afternoons.  Mix in few other things and she is packed with stuff to do.  Cal will be in basketball camp in a week.  He has a lot of chance to make some $$$ here at home with the jobs I like to see get done, but don't like doing.  He will read all day or watch a screen of any kind all day if given the chance.  

I want both of them to be normal.  I want to be able to have some time to myself (I'm beside myself that it is still, even if only for a couple more days, June!) and read, write, workout, work on the house and generally have a good time.  I'm not bored.  I'm having the time of my life!  I guess it took me quite some time to get to this point.  I was trusted by my parents and older siblings to make the right choices when it came to going out and about.  I think I did a pretty good job.  I just want my kids to know how to handle the down time that comes with that dreaded place--the real world.

Sleeping

I don't always sleep well.  I am very particular about so many things.  Temperature, sounds, clothes, thoughts, routines.  I've tried just about everything to make it work better but it just doesn't seem to help.  

I started a number of years ago with insomnia.  I just couldn't go to sleep.  I would sing songs, think about the things I had to do the next day, what I didn't get done today.  I read, meditated, medicated.  Nothing worked.  Then I started falling right to sleep one night.  No issues at all.

Of course I wasn't staying asleep.  It seemed to fall into a series of patterns.  At the appointed hour, sometimes 2:00 AM, other times 4:00 AM, I would break out into either a sweat or a shiver.  I end up in the bathroom trying to cool off or warm up (I usually have two sets of pj's out each night) so that I can get back in bed successfully.  Of course, I had to get back to sleep.  It happens most nights, it is just fitful.  Tossing and turning, until minutes before the alarm is due to go off, and I'm in a deep sleep.

My wife and kids sleep.  My wife lists sleeping as one of her hobbies on Facebook.  She never has problems getting to sleep.  She never has trouble sleeping all night.  She can sleep.  My kids--the exact same.  I'm glad for it.  It keeps me from the worry.  

I usually don't write this late in the evening.  I find that writing keeps me up.  I usually don't watch TV at night because it keeps me up.  Tonight will be different.  At least that's what I'll tell myself again tonight.

Home Improvement

My friends who have not yet bought houses laugh at me when I give them this advice

"Dig a hole in the backyard, put a bunch of cash in a bag and bury it.  It save you a lot of heartache later on."

They aren't sure whether it is about how much money they will lose on working on the house or the amount that they will need to work on the house.  It doesn't really matter now does it.  Every trip to Home Depot, Lowe's, the nursery, anyplace that has anything to do with doing something to the house is usually as good as a trip to the ATM.

We have a few projects that we would like to take care of in the near future.  I use the term near future to mean anytime between now and before we die in the house.  We have some real projects, you know the non-glamourous work that has to be done in order to maintain a real working home.  These are things like the water heater (which I'm sure is 20+ years old) and the furnace (no A/C here--thanks a bunch for that beach living) which I know is the original (40 years old.  These are not eye popping, just necessary.  These are things that I know I need to hire a professional to take care of.  Good news is I know enough people who are in construction that will be able to help out.  The bad news is I have no idea when the cash will show up to get this done.

The other projects are simply cosmetic.  Painting the exterior, repainting the kids rooms, getting the closets done, doing something with the interior doors, and the like.  These are items that really can take up a lot of time, energy and money.  Things I don't really have.  I've become pretty good at painting but some of the other things smell of a specialist.  

The really big project is our Master Bathroom.  I can use those terms loosely because I can actually hurt myself in our shower because it is so small.  It was designed by someone who had no idea what they were doing.  It is the sore thumb of the entire house.  The rest of the house they got right (well maybe the atrium is a stretch) but this room was an afterthought.  It is arranged as elegantly as the bathroom in a RV.  It is all function that falls upon itself in order to work at all.  We know that this is something that someone else will have to take care of.  We know that this is something that we will not get to for sometime.  

I survived our kitchen remodel.  In the end it has turned out to be one of the best investments I think we could have made.  I love my house.  I have done the work on both of my yards on my own.  I have learned what I am capable of and what I am certainly not.  

We went to Lowe's today.  I didn't spend a dime.  Came out with a paint sample and some ideas.  It was one of the best trips I have ever made to a home improvement center.   

Grandma Turns 95

My grandmother turns 95 years old today.  She takes less medication then either of parents, gets around on her own, takes care of herself and has seen almost a century worth of change.  She does not operate in our modern world very much, she has a phone, got rid of her car and license years ago, watches television but does not venture to far from her room in the "senior living community" she lives in.  She is in better shape than almost all of the others in the building.

I've written letters to her for years.  In fact, that was one of the first places that I learned how to write.  It was in the form of thank you notes, wish lists or what happened during the summer types of correspondence.  She was always thankful to get the letters and always sent another in return.  It was her way to ensure that the chain of information was not broken.  

These letters slowed down on my part during my teenage and college years.  It was always something that I knew I should do, but something I could never get myself to do.  I was too busy with my ego, figuring out who I was (or thought I was), what I wanted to do in life and how much I ached to get out of Stockton.  The letters would have made a difference because she would have been able to simply assure me to follow my heart or write a story from her past that she knew would help me see the situation a little bit differently.  

When I got married and settled down the letters started to flow again.  I had stories to tell, pictures to share and years of advice to seek.  I never had to ask overtly for the advice, it was always implied in the outgoing missive and always returned in kind.  The letters have been far more enjoyable to write then any phone conversation I could ever imagine.  

It took a lot for my grandmother to move from Lancaster to Stockton.  Lancaster was where she had raised her children, helped support a family, lost a son and a husband.  It was her house and neighborhood no matter how desolate the cityscape may have been.  My oldest brother and I took turns visiting her when we both lived in southern california (prior to moving to Sacramento).  The visits were always to ensure that she was in good spirits and good health.  It took everything we had to get ourselves to go but once there the visit itself was always a pleasure.

I talk about my grandmother a lot to students.  Most of them know their grandparents but do not have the idea of what 95 is like.  They ask me many questions about the changes she has been through and I relay the information back to them because I already know the answers.  They were the same questions that I have asked her over so many years of writing letters.  I'll be sending another out today because I know that we both love the process.

"Customer Service"--Yeah Right

I took the kids to the dentist today.  Normal cleaning, trying to avoid any long term pain in the pocketbook.  Kylie loves to see the dentist, Cal not so much.  I get there early, no rush, good book, ready to sit and read when the receptionist hits me with the following:

"Did you get my call yesterday? It was to confirm the appointment and talk about your insurance.  Delta Dental says the kids are not covered."

The mere fact that she said insurance meant that there could be no good to come of it.  I can't stand talking to anyone involved in my insurance.  I don't trust them, I don't think they are honest and have not known too many cases when they deliver what they promise in a timely to you manner.  

You know that insurance is a sham when the doctor/dentist charges 50 to 60 percent more to the insurance company than they would to you if you were paying cash.  What a rig job.  My family is extremely lucky with the coverage that we have because we don't have out of pocket expenses to worry about.  Both my wife and I have our own coverage that also covers everyone else in the house.  It is a joy, when it works, to just drive up to the pharmacy and drive away with the prescription without ever opening the wallet.

Because we have the exact same people and the exact same coverage and the exact same employer, I thought that today's conversation with my Delta Dental representative would have been a piece of cake.  I explained the situation, clearly and calmly and asked what could be done to change it back to what it was before.  "It's not our fault sir."  Never mind that they had already been paying for things the last six years.  Never mind that there has been no change in my employment status.  Never mind the fact that my wife has the exact same coverage and hers is right.  

I dispatched of the underling, who did try to pass me off to another underling, and was sent to the supervisor on the floor.  My sarcasm level had grown by this point.  I was no longer completely calm nor completely cool.  The supervisor came on and gave me the same company line as before.  She was not able to do anything because all they did was "adminster the benefits" (at this point I was trying to figure out what the benefit could possibly be).  I again pointed out all of the EXACTNESS that was going on with my wife's benefits and wondered why the company simply couldn't put the check mark back into the boxes next to everyone so it looked like it did before the screw up.  She wasn't authorized to make such a change.

I knew this conversation was done.  I wanted one more shot, one posit of the truth, something that let me know that they did understand but feared for their job, no matter how crappy it was to deal with people like I was closely getting to be, that I asked the question that I knew they couldn't argue with.  

"You see my logic with all of this don't you? I just need to know that you get all of what I've said here today"

"I see the similarities sir, but I can't do anything to change it.  We have to get notification from your employer."  

A patsy.  A rube.  A shill.  She's just doing her job as she has been trained so that she can go home and pay bills each night.  She wasn't the problem, the problem was the system.  I called my insurance office at work.  She told me there was no way that should of happened.  No way that could of happened.  She would call Delta and get it taken care of right away.  

So when we talk about having control over things, it looks like that isn't always going to be the case.  I can't believe that I spent as much time and energy on something like this only to have someone not see the point, not see the issue, not see the problem.  It has been cleared up (thankfully).  But you bet I called all the other insurances today as well.

Games People Play

I hate to admit this but I am totally addicted.  I can't seem to stop myself.  At times it seems to take over whatever it is I'm supposed to do because I can't get away from its call.  I am stuck on Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook.

I'm not the only one.  I have a long list of my friends who play as often as I do.  They seem to have the same hangup as me.  My father-in-law is completely stuck.  He has theories as to the best strategy, the time you are most likely to get a high score and why my sister-in-law seems to get better scores than all of us each and every week.  

It extends past the good old Blitz as well.  My wife plays FarmTown.  She even set up a farm for me that she runs, so that she can continue her own assault on farming prowess.  The object of the game . . . I'm not really sure other than growing more things and selling them in the virtual economy.  

Last week Blitz was down.  You would have thought the world had come to an end.  Suddenly a whole new crop of games starting popping up on my notification screen.  They were the store brand version of the name brand product.  Same ideas and concepts but they seemed to lack that same addicting feel.  

I wish I could say that this is just an oddity among my family however, it seems to be something that afflicts all users of electronic media in some way.  I remember growing up with pong, super breakout and pinball, the 2600 and on and on.  There was always a game that I could never get away from.  I also did not fall into the trance for very long.  I preferred being outside playing football, baseball or basketball.  I also grew up in a time when parents simply let their kids go off and "be back by dinner".  

As I watch my son (totally addicted to screens--doesn't matter what) and my daughter (no addiction at all--will simply walk away) grow up I have to wonder if this is something that will have a negative impact on them.  I realize that it matters more that we are involved parents and that they also learn to cope with the periods of unstructured time that many of us don't know how to take care of as adults.  

I'm hooked and I don't care.  I still went for a walk, a swim and played tennis with my kids today.

Father's Day

Keith and John are two very similar yet, dissimilar father's.  One is my oldest brother, the other a very good friend.  They do not get the opportunity to celebrate Father's Day anymore.  

My brother Keith lost his only child, Kenton, three years ago.  Kenton was 20 years old, a Junior at UC Santa Cruz, and a young man from all reports, who was really getting his life together.  He did not really know if he wanted to go to school.  He was very bright, very personable and without a clear path in life out of high school.  He had interned for Thrasher magazine as a high schooler, taken up photography and had a love of nature.  He lost his life the first day of classes doing something that he usually would have never done.

Kenton hated cars.  He skated everywhere and had the tickets to prove it.  He was dropping of his girlfriend on campus, he had walked with her there and preparing to skate back to the house he had a room at.  he had been offered cars by his father and mother, declining on every occasion.  Kenton was looking forward to the term starting.  He had just taken part in a summer course that was part naturalist, part biology, and all about pulling out of society (as we all know it) and finding a connection with the soul.  He had accomplished that.  He had purpose and drive.  

One of Kenton's buddies saw him in near the parking lot on campus and offered him ride back up the hill.  Kenton accepted something he never would have before.  As they were going back to the house, the driver lost control of the car and Kenton's side of the car was T-boned by on coming traffic.  He was worked on furiously, he was helicoptered out to the hospital.  

My brother was in New York on vacation.  He received all of this information through cell phone calls and campus representatives and family members.  He and his wife canceled everything, found help in an airline (thanks Jet Blue), and rushed back.  When they got to Kenton it was not a matter of would he make it.  It was well beyond that at this time.  It was how would he help others.  My brother and his ex-wife, Kenton's mother, made the decision to donate everything that could be harvested.  

My brother still mourns this day, just like he mourns everyday about the loss of his child.  he knows that there are literally pieces of Kenton that are alive today.  He has the chance to celebrate that part of life each day.  I can't think of anything that my brother would not of done for his son.  

I met John Boles when I was about 10 years old.  His brother Jeff and my brother Kurt, played water polo together and hung out as friends.  Naturally, we were the little brothers that had to be watched so we were drug along.  John and I ended up playing water polo together as well.  5 years of high school and summers that were some of the happiest days we saw together.

John was not the prototypical athlete.  He was small, not particularly fast, but he always wanted to win.  It never mattered what was played John wanted to win.  John became one of the most prolific scorers in our high school's history.  He went to community college to continue playing ball and hoping to land a scholarship.  

John was not the best student in the world, but he made do.  What John really did well was talk to people.  He always had a story, a joke, something that took the edge of a room.  He simply loved to have a good time.  John managed to get himself a scholarship chance at Hawaii-Pacific, and left the mainland to play ball.  

When John got back he was still the same.  Always joking, always playing, always wanting to win.  We were at a party at his apartment in Sacramento where he and his fiancee were living at the time.  Krista and I had been married 3 years, and we had started to get the adult part of life rolling.  John pulled me aside and asked me how did I know that Krista was the one?  I told him that she just got me, she understood everything.  He told me that night that he knew Paige was the one for the exact same reason.

John and I had grown apart since that time.  We went to the wedding.  Saw each other once or twice a year.  Then we moved back to Orange County.  I had not seen John in years when I got a chat message from him on Facebook.  Still same old John.  A story, a joke, wanting to win.  He had a family he adored.  Sons he couldn't spend enough time with.  Kids he was grooming to be just like their old man.  A couple weeks later I would get a different message on Facebook.

John was killed in a traffic accident.  He was making a sales call, out on the road.  A traffic situation happened and John never had a chance to get away.  Game over.  No jokes, no story.  He left behind a wife and two kids.  The service for John was enormous.  There were more people present for this event than our 20th reunion which had happened just months before.  People came from all over the nation to pay respects and share stories about John.  

We were somber that day.  We didn't know what to do.  John was the first of our group who died.  You could tell that all of us were taking stock in our lives at that moment.  Looking at our spouses a little differently, looking at our kids a little differently.  Setting up appointments about our health, about our retirements, about things that we never thought we would have to tackle at this part of life. 

As you celebrate Father's Day, or any day please remember the stories of these two men.  Remember that they would do anything for those that they love and that we can all do the same for those we love and for those we do not even know.

Movie Night and Drinking

We went and saw a movie that I think should be included on every top whatever list, for those aged 25-55.  The Hangover uses a triple-beam balance of humor, raunch and just plain wrong, but never does it manage to go over the edge.  No tricks, no gimmicks, just one funny funny film.  As always I started thinking about some of my hangovers and just how the world of drinking changes as you age.

In the early years of drinking, it was always about the effect, not the taste of the delivery system that seemed to matter most.  We would covertly go into the famed "liquor cabinet" that seemed to reside in each house, and steal what we hoped would be enough to the job, but not so much that the old man (or woman) would notice the disappearance.  We then worked this into whatever available mixer there was, usually Coke or 7-Up (depending on what you smuggled out) and voila, start drinking.  

There was a slow evolution to the process.  Those of us with older siblings, or with siblings who had friends who were older, would go into the world of asking them for a favor.  This usually entailed getting enough money together from the group to also buy their beverage of choice as well.  Growing up in California, the drink of choice for many was the 2 liter California Cooler.  Its green bottle a symbol of foolhardiness and debauchery.  The ladies tended to stay on this path of sweetened drinks, while the males grew their chops and the puberty induced hormones signaled them to have beer.

The problem with beer in the early days was we had no taste for it.  We were still all about effect.  We had a simple economic drive to buy mass quantities based on what cash was at hand.  We were all about Natural Light (natches), Schaeffer (the one beer to have when you're going to have more than one), Keystone Light, Stroh's, and Lucky Lager (11 ounce bottles with the cryptogram puzzle on the bottle cap--kind of an early DUI warning system).  

As we grew up the tastes changed and became more refined.  We dabbled with cocktails, wine, brew pubs and the like.  We started partaking in food pairings.  We added points to our scale, wine fridges to our kitchens, and a liquor cabinet--just like the one mom and dad had (or still have) at home.  

I stopped drinking quite awhile ago.  I do not remember the last time I was drunk.  When I drink I choose wisely based on time of year, food, company and situation.  I don't condemn people who drink in the least, they have developed their own link in the chain and I respect that.  I remember a number of occasions where drinking was something we did while at the party, but it was not the party itself.  It was a bit of a training ground on social interaction that we all encounter on a regular basis as adults.  

I cast no stones.  I've been in all of the vast levels of stupor.  I have friends who will vouch for it.  Watching The Hangover made me think of a lot of those times and what came of them.

Birthday Dinner

Each birthday I have celebrated with my wife I have always had to choose what I want to eat.  The prodding starts a couple of weeks before the blessed event (June 19th) and it is always close to Father's Day.  It seems like such a simple thing.

This year I actually came up with something other than "surprise me", which of course is the least favorite answer I could give.  On the menu for this Saturday:

Santa Maria Tri-Tip

B-B-Qed Beans

Guacamole

Chips

Salsa

Chocolate Chip Cookies and Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream

All of this will be prepared by my wonderful spouse who really does enjoy setting the table and dressing it up so to speak.  She loves to cook and bake, and as previously noted, not to clean.  I'm looking forward to the dinner and family that will accompany all of this.

Tonight, before a fabulous dinner of pasta w/tomato, peas and pancetta, my wife dropped the dreaded secondary charge.  "We want to take you OUT to dinner tomorrow night.  You need to choose where."  I like choosing what restaurant to eat at as much as I like dragging myself to work with a cold.  

I love food.  That is not the problem.  In fact there are plenty of places that I can think to go to.  The problem is always two-fold, the kids and the bill.  Although my kids eat fairly well, their choice in food can usually be summed up as brown.  Pasta no sauce.  Chicken nuggets.  Pizza.  Occasionally a cheeseburger (plain nothing on it) and every once in awhile the actual theme of the restaurant we go to.  The second issue is the bill.  No way around it, even if it is a "gift" it is still going to come out of my pocket.  As the bill payer in the house that means I see the total, tax and tip no matter what.

When I was growing up this was not the custom.  I was greeted with a meal (always homemade) and usually a sheet cake.  Once again, eight hungry mouths, you do what you can, when you can.  When I got into the high school/college years birthdays usually revolved around a liquid consumption rather than what you actually ate.  You would always remember what you ate later; it had a way of coming up, if you know what I mean.

My wife has always lived with this tradition of being able to go out and choose where to eat.  It happened with me as soon as I became part of the family.  It is an amazing feat to watch the birthday person announce their intentions to the rest of the crowd and watch for the winces, or shoulder hunching, or just out and out NO's (usually reserved only for my father-in-law and most often from my mother-in-law).

I've always thought about the food aspect and not the more important reason behind all of this. The meal is important from a gastronomic sense.  We have seen the best meals (I remember going to Fleming's for my mother-in-law's birthday and having one of the kids puke on the table) and the worst (Hometown Buffet thanks to my son) cross our plates.  What really makes the difference is not the meal, because if it were just that I'd ditch the kids and go somewhere really nice ($450 is not too much to pay for a meal and wine if done correctly).  The idea is that it is just good to get together and celebrate around an occasion or a meal once every so often.  I think that we forget that.  

I think the fact that I cannot remember very many times when I did not sit down to dinner with my folks while living at home (and watching the local and national news, including the three weather forecasts) makes this such an oddity to me.  I love the fact that my family eats together, not always what I want them to eat, but we get that celebration everyday of the week.

Cleaning Houses and Cats

Today was cleaning day.  Not the light, get the dirt of the surface stuff, but the deep cleaning that you never want to do. 

Krista cannot stand cleaning.  She loves the way it all looks in the end but she hates the process it takes to get there.  I, on the other hand, actually enjoy cleaning.  I think it comes from living in the not so clean environs of my youth.  There were 8 of us in a little over 1200 square feet, with just one bathroom.  The house was all about function not about clean.

I clean and organize when I get overwhelmed.  Therapy says it is my way of controlling what I know I can't control.  I like it when things are neat and crisp and clean.  All those years in doctor's offices' looking at the homes on the outdated Better Homes and Gardens gave me home.  I'm good at cleaning--period.  If this is one of those things that gets your man-card revoked, I'll gladly hand mine over.

Today's cleaning was no different than any other I've performed over the years.  Dusting, organizing, scrubbing, sweeping, mopping.  I tell Krista to take pictures after we are done because as soon as the kids get home, all bets are off.  We made good time on this one today.  I think it was three hours start to finish.  We missed somethings but that is always the case.  My wife is one of those who gets to brag about her husband who cleans, does laundry and cooks.  It is my badge of honor that I gained way back when we did our best to make that 1200 square feet look as good as possible.  

It was also time to take the cats to the groomers.  They are both long hairs, and both incredible shedders.  As we cleaned we noticed that we were able to pick up an entire cats worth of fur off of the floor, couch and seats.  

In the summer we get them a "lion cut".  Imagine a big fluffy cat, fur everywhere, something much like a Yeti before going to the groomer.  Coming out, same face, same tail, everything else in between shaved to the nubs.  It is a hilarious sight.  I can't explain it at all.  We do it out of sympathy for the animals who have to endure the hardship of summer without air conditioning. 

For some inexplicable reason home builders in "beach communities" decided that air conditioning was not required.  There are about 10-20 days a year where I loathe the fact that I don't have the 747ish whirr outside my window of the condenser starting up to push out 48,000 BTU's of nothing but cold, dehumidified air.  This is why we shave the cats.  Of course it also cuts down on the amount of cleaning we have to do as well.

Gardening

I couldn't understand my parents, especially my father's, fascination with being out in the garden as I was growing up.  I thought of it as nothing more than another responsibility to keep things neat and clean in the neighborhood.  I couldn't stand going out and trimming the Mulberry tree each year, or weeding the whole flipping backyard for my sister's wedding.  I hated it.  

When my father started growing orchids I really started to despise the plant life that surrounded the house.  We had a large corner lot and it was my job, although I was paid for it, to mow a vast expanse of lawn (I used it as a mini pitch and putt when I was bored).  But it was the orchids that really pissed me off.  They started taking up the space on the side yard, covered in the intricate web of misters and shade cloth and slowly started to encroach on the rest of the outside.  My father worked with those damn plants so much you might of thought that he enjoyed them more than the rest of the family. 

I remember loosing the back porch as it became the poor-man's greenhouse.  I remember when he finally found, and purchased, an actual greenhouse.  I couldn't understand the mind-set.  I did not see the beauty.  I only saw the time and money that was "wasted" into something that was not me.  I was forever pissed off that my parents hadn't made a better life for me.  I felt entitled (to what I'm not sure) and I know that this came from the fact that I was the youngest and that my teenage years were spent in the house without a sibling (for the most part) and without much overt parental guidance.  I felt that everything should be showered on me.

When I left for college, far away from home (340 miles-so not that far), I left all of that behind.  I went to the big city and filled myself with the concrete and steel that make up the modern American metropolis.  But what always caught my eyes was the beauty of the trees, the gardens that were tended to with precision and care.  I understood that the garden was important to me however, I couldn't get over the idea of how gardening fit in to all of it.

When I first lived in Orange County, quite possibly one of the ugliest areas in all of the states, I couldn't help but notice the lack of trees, the conformity of the lawns, the conformity of the cinder block maze that lined every street.  Moving away was both a shock and joy because getting to Sacramento forced me into becoming an adult.  It made me realize how important having a garden was.  

Sacramento has a majestic beauty about.  Trees are everywhere.  The city does not believe in "too many trees".  The canopies eat the street and cool the temperature to tolerable amounts.  I had my first garden here.  It was a small rental house with an arbor and two wisterias that had gone out of control.  I learned here that the garden was the product but that the gardening was the reflection.  

Gardening is not about the effort, the work, the planning, it is about the peace that comes with working the soil, the time to realize that the beauty is more important then the sameness that life presents us with.  I've ripped out both the back and front yards at this house.  I did it by hand.  The only power tool I ever used was a chain saw to take out a tree.  I'm one of a small handful who doesn't have a swarm of mow and blow guys descend like hungry ants at the picnic on his house.  It is mine.  I made it.  I learned about it.  I learned from it.  I understand dad, I understand. 

Vacation 2009--Costco and other musings

Today was the first "real" day of summer vacation.  The kids are still in school so it is always easier to get a little something else done.  

We cleaned up Krista's classroom.  One of the kids had decided to write "fuck Dornbush" on four or five desks as their final act of defiance.  It was some kid who had the student-teacher (the second part is very questionable) but could not handle the verbal judo that Krista doles out.  The funniest part were the posts she got on Facebook to defend her honor and kick the kids ass.  

Costco was disappointing.  We bought the needs, not wants, which is always a bit of letdown.  I always want to walk out of there with something that I absolutely have no business buying.  Something that if I come home with it I know everyone in the family will just look at me like I finally snapped.  The people watching quotient was kinda low today as well.  Usually the first day of the coupons brings a good crowd but this morning it was mostly the early dinner crowd getting a couple of things each.  And I really mean that.  The lady in front of us had two bags of oats and a bag of almonds.  I can't believe that her need was so great for those products that she had to get there early monday to make sure they were available.  Others had whole baskets full of toilet paper.  It is bizarre bordering on macabre as to what goes on at Costco.

Cal is incredibly bright.  He started a study today and had a very adult conversation with Patrice.  I don't think he understands all that goes on with what he has to say about things.  Just think of how much different it would be if he was exposed to, or watched the news on a nightly basis.  I love the fact that he pulled 11 books off the library shelves and that that will only last him a few days.  

Kylie has it figured out.  She is driven.  She understands a lot about what she wants to do and what she doesn't want to do.  I think she likes the idea of being a dentist.  She told me she wants to be a lot of things.  She will do what she wants I know that much for sure. 

I'm getting new shoes tomorrow so I can get back into shape.  I am way off target and it is really getting to me.  I'm having trouble with all aspects of my health and it is all weight related.  I know how I got here and I know how to get back.  I'll stop kicking myself in the head and simply do something about it instead of complaining.  Complaining is easy and doesn't solve a thing.  Action is what gets the work done.  

Start of Vacation 2009 #1

This was the most growth I've ever encountered as a person.  I learned just how much I don't like nasty people who believe that they should have their way at all times.  I learned how much it matters to care about people and that in many cases the ones that care the most are the ones that have every reason to worry or complain about the conditions they are in.  If we all cared about each other the way those who have nothing care about each other we might all see the world in a different light.  I am glad that I took the time to try something new, to be in a leadership position, but in the end I did not want to try and solve the problems of everyone else.  I am glad that I have found some peace when it comes to my professional life.  I know what I am capable of and even more importantly what I am not capable of.  

I've been looking forward to not being school.  It is the first time in a few years that is not simply about time off but it is about rejuvenation and rebirth.  I'm not sure how many times people can go through the reinvention of themselves, but I'm glad that I have on a professional level.  I know what to expect from myself and to not expect anything from those around me.  

Writing was something I planned on doing this summer.  I've never sat and written just for writing sake.  I always had to have the plan to write something--the great american novel--or something of that tragic cliched nature.  I simply think that it is important to know what you have done today, to not dwell on yesterday, and to not plan too much about tomorrow.  Too late for the cliches I guess.  

I've read more books in the past two weeks (Waveland and The Road) then I have in the last year.  I can't say enough about how it felt to be away from the world and so wrapped up in it at the same time.  The two stories are so similar--men who would do whatever is needed to make sure that everything around them is safe.  I can relate to that.  I love my kids and want nothing more than their wildest dreams.  This reading thing should be a habit I can keep up with for quite awhile.  I have a list.  I have some thoughts.  I have some want and desire.

As I put myself together this summer I am going to get my mind and body connected again.  I have been out of synch for quite sometime (almost a full year) and need to feel the rush of testoserone and adrenaline that comes with sweat and ache and muscle.  I have not sought these things for any time at all but I feel that need to produce to add to want.  It is interesting to feel the body drain through itself and prepare to rejoin the world.  

I guess the point I need to make to myself is simple.  Take this time and believe in your ability to become the best I am without trying to be anything to anyone else.