Birfdays

The weekends keep flying by. So much so that I will start a post and then inevitably have to discontinue said post and when I pick back up where I left off I notice that everything needs to be changed because "later this week" or "this past Sunday" no longer applies so I'll keep this short and sweet.

We celebrated my niece's third birthday on the 18th. It was a casual affair but we had a good time despite the weather. Her and I are forever doomed to lousy weather around our birthdays. Her mom went to the trouble of making that Barbie cake as well. We didn't have nearly as hard a time eating it.

And that's the short of it. Erica and I were both sick at various points last week making sleep tough to come by. I did get a lot done with the house as far as organization goes. I finally got the closet system installed to a stopping point upstairs. I got the second crib set up and the babies' room organized. It's basically one big crib. Insane. There is no such thing as a modest crib anymore... just cheaper materials in the same gargantuan cribs. I wish I would've done a little more research on that end. Now they'll each have full beds when they get older but where in the hell do you stick two full beds!?! That's right, two separate rooms. It's a shame what McMansions have done to standard home furnishings.

We attended a birthing class all day Saturday. Enlightening to say the least. Very good information but all I could think about during the video segment was how awful a hospital environment must be when you're in hours and hours of labor. It's cold and drab. Why can't we make this better. Look at the Dutch... they're look is sterile yet inviting. Nothing we can do about it now. So are we ready? Who knows. I'm getting pretty anxious, watching Erica's every move, every grimace, every labored movement. Today marks the 29th week and those little guys are about three pounds apiece. Three pounds! That's six pounds of baby! I have sanctioned her to the couch at this point. She listens sometimes and she moves things around behind my back some other times.

The butterflies are aflutter more and more. Time is growing short.

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

In an attempt to curb my complaining, I've tried to attach this stipulation to my criticisms...

For every complaint, there must be a solution.

So this solution doesn't necessarily stem from a complaint. It's more like an idea. They happen from time to time... once a year, maybe twice. Never more than twice. This particular idea has been a long time brewing. Now, it could mean that's it's a nasty porridge by now or a well-rounded chili that's ready to be eaten.

Let me just preface this by saying that I didn't fail high school and high school didn't fail me, but I wasn't ready for college upon completion of my senior year at Sidney Lehman Catholic. It's not that I wasn't prepared to take the classes college offered... I just didn't know what the hell I wanted to do.

And I'm not saying what I have to offer is any kind of solution but I know something like it would've been a win-win situation for me and Toby Keith's favorite country, the good ole U-S-of-A.

What it involves is a year of service upon graduation from high school in one of two areas... the job corps or the military corps. Your choice. If the choice is the former, you're placed in a public works program outside of your region allowing you to experience other ways of life in your country. The better your grades, the closer you are to your choice city. Jobs are based on four years of information collected from your high school guidance counselors. You'll work on road projects, provide assistance to the elderly or any other number of jobs that 18-year-old men and women could fill. The military already wants you to make your choice the latter. They spend quite a bit on advertising and recruitment. They could save that cash, at least the majority of it, with a program like this.

Yeah, I know it's got all kinds of holes in it but the bottom line is that it's a mandatory public works program that would employ hundreds of millions for room, boarding and a small stipend. They would get to travel and experience idependence. And I hear everyone saying, "Well, that sounds like college," and you're right but college anymore is about getting out of the house and partying. Maybe that was just me but I feel it's lost it's focus recently. Going to college doesn't hold water like it did 40 years ago. And there's nothing like having to wake up for a 7am start time with a raging hangover. Gets old quick. And if you can't cut it in the job corps, say hello to boot camp.

After their year of service, individuals can use credits earned towards furthering their education so they're not burdened with a mountain of debt after college, cashing them in immediately for a down payment on a home or dolling it out in the form of tax breaks for the next ten years.

Truth be told, this stems from a small inkling of guilt... the guilt I feel for never having served this country. I'm not saying I should've skipped school to go into the military but that was the only option – as far as I was aware – available (our guidance counselor sucked). I didn't learn about Job Corps until I was 27 or 28. No joke.

With all the talk about changing this country's momentum and future, I think it's high time we stop sending stuck up shits to business school (much like myself even though I went to design school) so they can learn to cheat the system. Let's show them what an honest day's work looks like.

Shot Callin'

My boss's son is a sixth grader in the Sycamore school district. Recently, he and 105 of his peers signed up to play basketball. My boss received an email saying they were one coach short and some of the kids would have to be cut. She bravely volunteered so that all the kids that wanted to play could. Just one problem. She doesn't know a single thing about basketball and she'd soon be a head coach.

Basketball has always been my number one. It was the sport I played the most, liked the most and knew the most about... which isn't saying much... so I decided to help. Why not, right?

Well, I can't make promises about how this season's going to turn out. We have one scheduled practice a week. One! I need one practice just for the wind sprints these little punks should be running. Maybe I was just as big a punk as some of these guys, but I don't remember anyone on my team walking through a layup drill. I do not take kindly to such things especially when it would be far easier for me to enjoy a nice dinner at home with my wife and spend the rest of the evening relaxing. I have a new-found respect for coaches (some of them). I can't imagine doing this every night of the week along with the actual games on the weekends.

But then some kid realizes (you can literally see it hit the back of their brains and bounce back to the front) that the drop step move he learned in practice works really well against a defender in a game and at that very moment, you know why you signed up for this.

Onward young b-ballers! May you forever play defense with your hands up! If not, I have a really taxing drill to help you remember.

Better Late Than... Nevermind

Ahh Christmas. It's already forgotten... except for the paper shredder and ceiling fan (labor included) I got. Erica's gift was outstanding... a four-pack of tickets to UC basketball games. A friend's wife had the idea and a few of them went in on it. We've already attended one and were treated to a victory. Primo!

Lots lies ahead in this new year of 2011. My mom had some kind of cross-stitched piece of art she'd hang in the house when we were younger. Usually in her bedroom. It read, "Lord, grant me the patience to endure my blessings."

It's a good mantra. I might take it for my own.

Making Mounts of Molehills

From certain angles, Mount Adams looks tiny... and then you try and drive all up in that piece and you'd be shocked how easy it is for that seemingly little hill to spit you out, defeated. It's almost unattainable at times. It took me several years to get the hang of it and even now, a higher level of concentration is required when navigating its streets.

My sister recently had a surprise 30th birthday party on the main drag and I had a lost aunt and uncle on my phone needing directions. Think about it for a second or two and see if you could give someone directions up to the corner Saint Gregory and Pavilion without Google maps in front of you. But the trick to Mount Adams is to always go up. So long as you're always heading uphill, you'll eventually find what you're looking for.

The holidays have officially snuck up on me again. Procrastination has made this seemingly joyous time a little more stressful. I doubt I'll ever truly be on top of things when it comes to Christmas... no more than I'll ever be able to rearrange the streets of Mount Adams... but this year, I'm going to keep looking up and maybe, just maybe, I'll find what I'm looking for.

But before it gets too crazy, the Envoi crew is headed out tonight for our annual holiday dinner. This year we're celebrating at The Rookwood Restaurant and we'll hopefully get seated in one of the old kilns they used to fire the now famous, Rookwood Pottery. The building is actually sitting right atop that snow-covered hill you see in front of you... with Holy Cross to the left and some apartment building on the right.

So here's to the hope that everyone finds what they're looking for this holiday season.

Shoes and Stalactites

Can any two individuals agree on everything? Maybe some can. I can't. With anything or anybody. Nothing. If a conversation is initiated, I switch to auto-disagreement. At the end of the day, it terrible... and I regret it, but I'm working on it and may just get it right.

That particular aspect of disagreement is something I can help. Something I can't help is my taste in style... or as some might say... lack thereof. My days of purchasing several pair of shoes a year are long gone. I've grown out of my impulsive spending habits so when making a purchase, I think long and hard about it. I came across these shoes a few months ago and wanted them bad. The more they resemble the result of a bowling shoe's affair with a house slipper, the better. I had owned a pair similar to this a long time ago and have been looking for their replacements after they wore out two or three years ago. The problem was they didn't have my size. Seven years ago, I would've bought them anyways, but I was able to, albeit reluctantly, walk away.

There was also something else holding me back. Erica hated them. She hated the shoes prior to this pair as well and fought long and hard to see that they were retired somewhat prematurely.

I'm not fashion-forward by any stretch. Actually, just the opposite. When I find something I like, I latch onto it with a death grip and wear the hell out of it. Sure, I've had my phases. I don't mind slipping on the skinny jeans, but they better have cowboy boots at the end of them. Boot cut jeans were my true savior. Full-length zip turtleneck sweatshirts... I'd be stuck with hoodies if it weren't for you. Athletic fit t-shirts... what took you so long? That red and beige belt I own? Other than when wearing a suit, I've worn it everyday for the last six and a half years.

This is why Erica's disdain of my true taste in shoes is so disheartening. I have nowhere else to turn. I found solace in the trail running shoe/jean combo for a while, but I knew it wouldn't last. So when we were out Christmas shopping last Saturday and swung in to DSW to "look around"... I knew what I was after. And there they were, sitting pretty. Not only that, they were in my size! OMG!

But I knew it would only be half the battle. Luckily, the day's hustle and bustle had worn down my wife's guard. She wasn't on her A game and I quickly stormed the gates and got the answer I was looking for... "Get them if you really want them." Of course, that statement is laced with all sorts of "but you'll never wear them in my presence" innuendos, but that's okay. I own them now. Not only that, I got them for over 60% off because of a couple coupons and an awesome cashier. What a victory.

In the end, they're just shoes. Not that big of a deal.

Recently I read where a scientist believes the aging process is simply the long term effect of millions of tiny accidents your body goes through in a lifetime. Bumps, dings, scrapes that may go unnoticed to us but over time, deteriorate our vessels to the point of failure. Stalactites and stalagmites work just the opposite. Millions upon millions of water drops only build them up... bringing them closer together.

I suppose little battles in a marriage can work either way. I, personally, find it endearing that Erica cares that much about what I look like. Better to care too much, than not at all. I think, too, our differences in style have helped curb any reactionary purchases that, in that past, I was very guilty of. And I'm sure she gets a kick out of rolling her eyes and laughing at me most Saturday nights before we head out... only to have me head back to the dresser in an attempt to make her smile. After all, agreement can't always be such an easy term to come to... how boring would that be?

Ronnie Time

It may be cold outside, but Ronald is keeping it hot with these shades. Who knows where he got them but they're pretty great.