Anxiety Rox

Tomorrow is the first official day of my new job. It is 3 hrs away. It just hit me as I'm packing a bag just how much activity will transpire over the next several months...house listing, house hunting, blah blah. WTF have I managed to get myself into this time? My mind is spinning like a Tilt-A-Whirl...this is not the most conducive mental state to begin a new job...whoa over-stimulation. Ok, I took a cleansing breath to harness my chi. Now where the hell do I start? I still have not heard from volunteers to help pack...although I did get one "yes that is my truck, and no I will not help you move jackass" so there is still hope. I'll even throw in a case of beer. Cheap stuff...not my good stuff. Anyone? No? Guess I'll just have to put Fin and Ev to work then.

The Dismantling of Christmas

I am all in favor of not putting up decorations next year. No lights. No wreaths. No 9' tree full of fragile trinkets which are destined to break. Something so joyous should not have to include a full day of dismantling the paraphernalia...ugh. Is it summer yet? I don't wanna even start the process, but I'm so sick of being surrounded by the perpetual holiday cheer it serves as an excellent motivator. Dig out the boxes. Unpack the junk which had to be packed to unpack the packed cheery items from the start. I don't get it...there has GOT to be an easier way to do this...maybe I should hire someone to do it for me while I sit back with a stiff drink and supervise. Excellent plan...now where do I find such a stooge?

Sweet Unemployment

It has been a few weeks since I last posted, don't be a hater but you can blame Facebook, the annoyingly addictive cyber crack of a website site it is. I'm sure you know now that I got canned a few weeks ago. No more General Growth for me...but it's all good, I have another job. I start Dec 29th and we will be packin our trinkets and heading north to KC once E completes the school year. It's hard to be excited about moving, but the job is so enticing it makes the move seem far less life-altering.

Getting downsized from a corporate job is a surreal experience. Even though I knew it was coming for months and managed to avoid the first two rounds, when the day came it was quite a bizarre stream of emotions. This is the stuff that happens to people on the news, not me...until now. Thankfully, I had managed to secure my new job at exactly the same time so the timing could not have been more perfect. Hmm, divine intervention maybe? I don't see how, I certainly haven't been an angel this year...heh heh heh...

I managed to get a severance package in lieu of my annual bonus so the transition to a new job will be way too easy. I fear it is too good to be true...but for now it freakin rocks! I am totally stoked to start the new job. The day of my interview I called Cindy to inform her this is my dream job (well besides being a ninja or professional Rock Band player). The fact it happens to be in KC doesn't really bother me so much after all. In a good job market this decision would have been a no-brainer so it goes without saying it's a minor miracle in this shitty one.

So the Carpenter's are on the move yet again...we keep moving north like this and we'll end up in Maine before retiring. Feel free to come help pack...we need all the help we can get. The tour of chaos will be storming into KC in short order...watch out!

Turkey

It must be the addiction to tryptophan which relinquishes my inner child to spill forth and declare my love of the holiday's. Hmm...interesting...there is just something about the holidays which brings out my inner child...well more so than normal. Afterall, I am a child at heart. I took great pleasure in building Lincoln Log tunnels for the model train set which adorns the bottom of our tree. Oh yes, the tree is already up at casa de carpenter...sad, but true. I fight it, although I know deep down I actually love it. May your thx be as giving as mine. Peace.

Friendship

Ok, so I admit it...I am a little sappy...but there are no holds barred when it comes to those I consider my friends. For the longest time, I have valued friendship as family. Even in college I grew close to my fraternity brothers as if they were my family and to this day still value many of them as such. What really hits home to me even at the ripe ol' age of 34, is my ability to still find them. Be it work friends, neighbors, couples, new, young, old (no specific age defined, uh hmmm).

Friendship is a strange beast. There are scattered layers of friends: those you can trust, those you have fun with, those you reveal your most intimate secrets (I know I sound like I have a va-jay-jay), those you get drunk with, those you hold back from, those you help, those who see it wise to help you, those that just seem to be at the right place at the right time...to everything turn-turn-turn...

The real truth is friendship is summed up in one very important philosophy of life...it's not the action of the man, it's the reaction of those around him. I am blessed with friends from all walks of life. Each of those people have given back to me unselfishly what I have hopefully given first. So as I ramble on and on about the intricacies of Eli's friendship milieu, I have really but one thing to say...thanks to all of my friends. I am who I am because of those friendships which have touched my life. They may be long term, they may be short lived, they may be but just a brief encounter, but each of my friends have shaped me into who I am. I truly hope I have done the same in return.

Looking Down on the World

Flying from Dallas to St Louis last week, I was enjoying my second cocktail when I happened to glance out the window to catch the landscape below. Hmm...that seems familiar...I think that is Fayetteville, I thought to myself.

I quickly started rifling through my stuffed backpack for my camera...and not a moment too soon. Papers were flying, dropping my iPod and yanking out my earbuds, spilling my drink, knocking my head into the flimsy tray table...you can just image the spectacle I'm sure I created. My seat mates were chuckling. No matter to me...I was in awe. From a cruising altitude of 35,000 feet, I captured my home. Ok, so its a speck, but it's still there! Just thought I would share a couple, things like that don't just happen every day you know...

Random Acts of Kindness: Ode to My Brother

I must be getting old and soft. Contrary to Cindy telling me I’m dead inside, I still have a bit of emotion which tends to well up from time to time and spew forth bits of compassion and sap. Such was the case at Zac and Ann’s wedding. I thought about what I would say during my toast to best (and most briefly) sum up my brother. I chose the following story which should inspire all of us to practice random acts of kindness:

It was 1998, shortly after high school, my brother was working on an assembly line at an aircraft manufacturing plant. In proper fashion, he was a hard and dedicated lineman whose supervisor was in awe of his dedication and productivity. He had a fellow coworker who, although a very nice guy, was slightly less productive and seemed to always come up short. So around Christmas, the company saw a dip in aircraft sales volume and needed to downsize the supply chain; therefore with such a decrease in production, layoffs were inevitable. Zac’s boss pulled him aside and told him they would be keeping him because of his extraordinary efforts but since someone had to go, the fellow coworker would have to go. For the sake of the story, the coworker’s name is Jake. Jake was a young guy with a wife and new family. Zac was single and living at home while deciding what to do with his life after high school. There was no way Zac was going to let it happen.

He told the boss it just wasn’t right to see this young husband and father be let go before the holidays. The boss stated simply there was no way around it, someone had to go. The choice was simple. My brother, the crazy Zac, the young dedicated workhorse, the life of the party, made a decision that will always stick with me. One I will forever admire. One I am not sure I could have done myself. Without hesitation, he told the boss to let him go instead…he could bounce back. Without even a hint of selfish hesitation he offered himself on the chopping block. Jake kept his job. Zac hit the street.

While recanting the story in front of the wedding crowd, I too had a tear well up in my eye. It’s a story worth telling. If for nothing else, it is inspirational. If we could all be so selfless. Just one act of random kindness may have changed a young man and his family forever…it’s time to practice and refine the art again…

To my brotha: I love you and wish you all the best life has to offer, you have earned it. Peace.

Zac = Married

Finally! Just a couple of months shy of his 30th bday...my little brother finally took the plunge! We just got back from an 8 day trip to SW Florida for the festivities and wedding hoopla...tonight I am EXHAUSTED. And sore. I got my freak on the dance floor at the reception last night and am paying for it miserably today. Damn I hate getting old...my bones are creaking and back and stomach are screaming at me for contorting them into various copycat moves from Hip Hop Abs...ugh...where's the Advil? And what the hell was I thinking?

Anyway...I am very happy to have a new member to the Carpenter clan and look forward to nieces and/or nephews in short order (no pressure)...Welcome to the fam Ann!

Little Pieces of Us

The time is 1:17am on a Friday night. Scratch that, it would actually be Saturday morning. I cannot sleep. Ev is tucked away in her bed, exhausted from a full day of school and play. Fin is wedged in our bed like a heat-seeking missile curled up beside the fire of life as if the bitter cold of his own world pushed him to seek solace and comfort within the ceremonious womb of my (correction: OUR) space.

I have been watching them, Cindy and Fin, for about 30 min or what seems like a lifetime. Each breath cavorting into some fanciful snort of jubilant slumber. They are at peace. No worries, no deadlines, no drama. Serenity and peace.

Even as Fin jabs a nubby finger in his nose reaching for new heights while REMing and as Cindy responds to my goodnight kiss and subsequent night time chat while completely incoherent, I cannot still believe I am here. At this stage of my life. I am an adult. How did this happen? When did this happen? These are the pieces of my life.

As Fin stuffed an index finger up his nose, I chuckle and tell Cindy he must have inherited it from her...she gives me the lip curl and the obligatory mmm hmmm. He moves from the nasal cavity to the waist band of his tiny PJ bottoms digging deep for his regularly scheduled adjustment "ritual" (well boys find their tool eventually), gives it a good dig for aeration and settles back into a delicate caress of the pillow to fall deeper into sleep. Well I guess I know from where he inherited such a move. I laugh. At the same time I am still awestruck. They are mine. Little pieces of me. Little pieces of GF. Little pieces of us.

If you let your mind wander long enough, the thought of parenthood will become overwhelming...it is such a huge responsibility. There are no safety nets...you just wing it and hope for the best. No amount of preparation can make it perfect. The actor always flubs a line now and then. But reality tells your little pea brain to avoid over analyzing the situation. No need to stress. Instinct will guide your parental actions. I can only hope reality is right. In the mean time, I keep on keepin on...and relish in the moments when I can sit and watch, in silence, my life sleep beside me. At peace. Perfect.

Trouble Again: The Fallout

WHO KNEW THIS WOULD MORPH INTO A CHRONICLE?

Needless to say Cindy was less than pleased to see me home on Sunday afternoon looking like I had just tussled with a raptor. When I had to tell her I had lost my cell phone, my glasses, and nearly my ring (which btw was NOT a good idea...stupid in fact...why didn't I just keep my trap shut?) I felt the pursing lips and the red-headed steam culminate into a very DEEP cleansing breath as she bit her tongue as not to rant at the antics of her man/boy husband. I love you GF...it didn't work. The lecture was not quite as bad as I expected. Overshadowed mostly by my self-inflicted anger over losing my phone. The glasses can be replaced. Hell the phone can even be replaced. But the 400 numbers stored IN the phone cannot. They were gone. Washed away to cell hell by the rolling White River. Personal contacts, business contacts, important numbers...you name it, all gone. I was bitter.

I bought a used phone on Ebay for a hundred bucks that night and it was delivered mid-week while I was in San Antonio. Upon my return Friday afternoon I stopped into the Sprint store with my new used phone and had it activated. Why is the activation process such a production? Anyway, I was back in business. The power was finally back on after 5 long days of darkness and quiet.

Friday night, a storm was building to the west as the sun set. It was a spectacular site. The kids and I had been to swim and dine on fine fast Italian cuisine (read: pizza) at the neighbor's abode. When Cindy took them home for baths and bed, Truck and I decided to have a drink and watch the storm roll toward us.

I had a great idea...let's put our camp chairs IN the pool. Now we could be in the water AND sitting. What a beautiful plan, creative strategy. A sort of aquatic lounge if you will. The storm brewed, the sun disappeared, the lightning in the distance provided a solid pyrotechnic display. The water was warm and still and all was right with the world as we kicked back over a rum at our own swim-up bar, Lounge El Agua. We bantered on solving the world's problems as is typical of our conversations. If I closed my eyes, the camp chairs became soft and submersed bar stools perched next to a Jamaican pool bar. I'm thinking this would actually make a good Backyardigans episode. Once the thunder was audible, common sense took over and we quickly ended the pool bar dream for dry land.

It was probably time for me to head home (or past time as it often is) so I began gathering up my trinkets to make the trek 3 doors down. Keys, check, wallet, check, flops, shirt and towel, check check check, phone... phone... phone... OH...MY...STARS...please do not tell me I have lost my new used pho-...

Just then I spotted it. It was not lost.

It was sitting right where I had left it, like a lost puppy waiting at the doorstep, propped up nice and secure in the confines of a mesh cup holder. Which just so happened to be attached to the camp chair I had so foolishly placed in the pool. Lifeless and dripping, the tiny black electronic carcass was hoisted from the scene of its demise.

Oh it was certainly not lost...gone maybe, but not lost.

My anger was quickly overshadowed by the wrath I feared I would soon face. Oohh...something inside told me the pursing lips, red-headed steam, and deep cleansing breath may erupt with monumental force. It is safe to assume, at this stage of our chronicle, the perpetually chaotic man/boy spent the weekend on the couch, and admittedly, so deserved.

And now you know...the rest of the story. Good day.

Trouble Again: The Finally Final Finale'

WARNING: I TOLD YOU THIS WAS LONG...GRAB A DONUT AND SADDLE UP PACO...YUR IN FOR THE LONG HAUL...

The ring has been found! …ok flash back to the cabin roughly two hours ago. We loaded up what remained from a case of Coors Light in an old feed sack. I loaded it up, stocked it with ice, wrapped it in a towel, and super-strapped three bungee cords around it securing it to the rear rack of my wheeler. It was solid, that bitch was going nowhere and at the time I was quite proud of my hillbilly cooler. I should have known it wouldn’t last.

…so back to the celebration-o-the-ring…I reach into the mutilated feed sack, soaked with river water and melted ice. I reach and reach only to have my frigid hands go numb from the remaining ice. Through the river crossing and high-centered ring toss melee, the coveted silver bullets had vanished into the darkness one by one leaving behind a bungeed mess of coated paper pulp held loosely by the dangling towel. They were gone. We had nothing more to drink. Panic set in again, how would we survive? How can we live without liquids to sustain us? Never mind a river of fresh Ozark mountain water roils beneath us. I relent, mount the wheeler, and press onward.

We make it another 40 or 50 yards downriver when we land onto a crossing which is no longer rolling with the contour of the river bottom. In daylight and in sober mind, we would have known this to be a fairly deep hole, we were in neither. Truck goes first inching forward into the pool as water slowly rises up the front tires. It levels out for a few feet and with a sense of security in reaching the bottom he hammers on the gas.

Bloop…I see headlights under the water. This cannot be good. He gets off the bike and steps off in water over the waist. He shuffles side to side and yells back to me that it is far shallower just to the right of him; he doesn’t see a problem with me making it across. I backup, and accelerate forward to gain momentum…I can make it if I go fast enough. Bloop…headlights underwater. There is an eerie quiet, no engine noise, no talking, just the distant trickle of the river. It is a few minutes before either of us speaks. There are no words…we both bust out laughing. We joke, what else can happen to us tonight?

Should’ve kept our mouths shut…

With the submersible fiasco behind us, our bikes running again after dewatering, and the thirst for more beer driving our mindset, we finally decide it best to return to base. We are 5 miles from home. Never fear, Truck knows a shortcut. Instead of following our Hansel and Gretel path of silver beer cans back, let’s get out of the riverbed and go over the mountain. What a great idea I am thinking…we need a drink and some dry shorts. Wait, I need my glasses. Fortuitously I had stuffed my glasses and my cell phone in the dry box which is stock mounted at the rear of the bike. It has a rubber gasket ring which would infer it to be watertight (read: DRY box). I walk to the rear of the Yamaha…my stomach instantly drops to the river bottom. The door to the dry box, usually held closed by a small rubber strap, is wide open.

No glasses. No cell phone. Nothing but a wet yet clean orifice for holding such valuables. My day has officially turned to crap.

So with no glasses, the 5 mile journey over the mountain ahead, a lost cell phone, and no Coors Light as consolation for my misery we press on. It starts to rain. Buckets. I have ner a stitch of dry clothing. But I have my wedding ring by damn!

The forest trail we have chosen is littered with briars, big ass briars the size of my di...uh I mean...finger. Half way up the mountain, the water that has “mysteriously” been injected into my gas tank begins to show signs of its power over the internal combustion engine. Sputter, climb, sputter, climb…level out and it runs fine…pitch back uphill and it poops out. As we wind our way slowly up the mountain trail we stumble across a tree with about a two foot caliper that has fallen and made its final resting place in our path. Damn you giant elm, you had to get old and brittle and allow a little wind to derail your destiny as the tallest tree in the forest…and screw my night even more.

By this time, I’m in the zone…ain’t no rotten ass tree gonna get in my way of a cold beer and some dry shorts. I steer around, mowing down endless saplings in the process to find a place where I can muster the power to cross the downed log. The watery gas throws a final punch. The bike is KO’d. Eerie silence again as Truck pulls up behind me and shuts down to assess the situation. It was futile.

We agree to say TO HELL with it…let’s leave it hear and we’ll come back for it at daylight (translation: mid morning or whenever we wake up). So I mount the back of Michael’s bike to ride bitch. Something I am not proud of by the way. Are we there yet? Can we finally be home now?

Alas, the night had one more surprise for me…

As I am clinging to the rear rack for dear life…sidebar…dudes never hold onto each other when having to share an ATV, it is an unwritten rule…I can see a sharp curve ahead. Knowing how I would react on my own bike, I lean into the curve. This is textbook operating procedure while piloting an ATV…unless there are briars hanging within the darkness like apple wielding serpents teasing you with succulent temptations (insert your own fantasy here).

It came out of nowhere. Like a lion picking off the weak antelope from the herd, it sliced my right cheek (face cheek…jeez you guys and your dirty minds) across the rosy chub of a cheek bone all the way to my ear. Michael, of course, leaned away from the curve.

“Sorry dude, I didn’t see that comin’”…yeah thanks. It did sting a bit, but I really didn’t notice the full severity of the situation until back at base. It was probably a good thing.

FINALLY…I can see the generator-powered lights of the cabin filling the clearing upon which it sits with the angelic glow of safety and serenity…our nocturnal adventure has concluded. We have survived, albeit with a gash on my face, no glasses, no cell phone, and a dead quad laying helpless down the mountain somewhere. It was time for a frosty cold beverage. The gash did heal eventually although it probably should have had a few stitches…ah well…I now have a nice scar as a prop for recounting my tale to future generations of Eli’s (God help them).

So now you too can sense the kind of trouble into which I seem to find myself from time to time...perhaps next time I will heed the advice of the older and wiser. "Nothing good can come of this"...he was absolutely spot-on.

Loft Bed Mania

Well well well, check out the update on the loft bed I made for F's room! I decided pics were a necessity to highlight the blood, sweat, and tears which have made this little project possible. Pay special attention to the redneck paint booth I rigged up with weed-eater line and plastic. Also note the gratuitous photo depicting my source of artistic expression! It worked like a charm.

What began as a day long project, according to the plans I bought online it was 8-10 man hours of labor (I call BS), turned out to be three weeks. Last weekend we finally moved it inside but it became very apparent minor kid-friendly modifications were needed. I think Cindy has some pics of the final assembly on her blog, I thought you would rather see this little dream of a project (heavy sarcasm) through my eyes. So it is still a work in progress. It might have to be a Christmas present at this rate.






Currently I am trying to finish a ladder, some additional bed rails, and a new lighting concept as the ceiling fan is no longer an option. With the sleeping habits of a 3 yr old: stretching, kicking, spinning like a top, and an occasional bout of sleep walking...you get the picture. Cindy still thinks it is way too high, but I am adamantly opposed to cutting down the legs of this magnificent creation.

It would be like drawing a mustache on the Mona Lisa...inconceivable disgrace to the artist! Pheww...no way Jose! I will just fortify it so he can sleep in a cozy fortress of slumber...I'm sure the tranquil Zen of my artistic expression will allow him to awaken a fresh boy, perfectly behaved and inspired after his metamorphosis from within the wooden cocoon. Ok, ok, so a dad can dream...enough already, I'm ready for this project to be behind me. It has made my back hurt, my hands splintered, and my boobs droop...I need a vacation...but it sure looks cool!

Trouble Again (continuation)

I know you have been waiting...sitting on pins and needles...giddy with anticipation...I promise I have not forgotten. The story is SOOO long I still have not finished...just wanted to give you a teaser. Stay tuned for another episode of "The Plights of the Perpetually Chaotic ManBoy".

ROCK BAND...tiny addiction...

So I thought my Guitar Hero III for the Wii was the BEST rock out game ever...until this past weekend Truck and I started playing Rock Band on PS3...holy shnikes...karaoke is a piece of cake with a pitch indicator, I was so excited I almost wet my pants...although now that I think about it maybe it was the beer which almost made me wet my pants, either way, it almost happened. Excitement permeates the streets of Stoney Creek along with the muffled sound of our garage band...we call them the latexbandits...don't ask, it's another story. Bon Jovi covers will never be the same...if only they had some Firehouse or White Snake! We each have names, however I will keep those out of the blog. I don't want admiring fans, groupies, or band-aids rushing the garage door every time it opens. Have your people call my people and we'll party, that's how we roll. Rock On homeys...

Technology No Longer Passing Me By...Word

Stop laughing at me, I know I should have started trolling the internet sooner than later, but I just realized the power and wealth of info on web 2.0 sites like Facebook and MySpace. These sites are like cyber crack...I was up until 3am the other night just looking at anyone and everyone I share a past with. Who knew? Well, besides 12 yr olds and pedophiles...at least that was my presumptive vision of such networking websites. I admit it though, it is actually quite cool. So now I too am finally fully immersed in the OO's...now that it's almost time for the 10's...oh well...my embrace of technology is now fully underway. My laptop is smoking...gotta find an extinguisher.

The Oceans Heals Me

There is something about the solitude of hearing surf lap onto a sandy beach. When you are strewn about on a public beach at a resort packed with people, it is amazing how quickly all activity fades into the distance. Mental clarity is at its peak when you have the ability to fully relax, no stress, no to-do lists, no email, no phone, no deadlines, nothing.

The ocean is just peace, rum, and Red Stripe. Well, when you’re in Jamaica anyway. In the Bahamas it would be Kalik, or in Mexico it would be tequila and Modelo or Tecate (my personal fav)…whoa, I’m digressing to liquor again. Nonetheless the ocean is the mystic source of healing and tranquility with or without the booze. But just in case you’re wondering, the booze is a terrific co-facilitator of peace!

Nah, I tease (wink wink), it is all about the ocean. I appreciate it far more as an adult than I did as an obnoxious twenty something spring breaker.

When the rigors of life mount upon an ADD brain, it tends to spin incessantly. But when my eyes affix the turquoise waters gently rolling upon pristine sand, the healing begins. I am thinking of marketing a new cult following of my own for those seeking mental clarity…hmm, let’s see…it will meld the philosophies of mental clarity from tantric yoga (Ohhhhmmm), the Madonna religions du jour (whatever they are this week), the Wiccan naturalists (because the Halliwell sisters are good for me), the Scientologists (because life originating from ancient aliens is THE definition of mental clarity), and the Idaho militias (we full uv mental clarity BEOTCH). It’s a brilliant scheme! I only have to recruit one impish celebrity and voila, instant following on the road to enlightened mental clarity. Don’t forget to sign up…we meet down at the beach!

Eh, too much work…I’d rather dream about the ocean. Maybe I was a fish in a former life? No, better yet, a massive Great White Shark skimming the deep blue waters of Earth content with life underwater and a full belly of Amity residents. Maybe I should go visit the Dali Llama to find out for sure. Nah, think I’ll just relish in the memories of my tranquil days overlooking the ocean that God gave us for just such times. Can you feel me sending the oceanic healing your way? No? Oh well, my cult idea will then surely be a flop!

Just a Swangin…

Yeah mon, we are home from Jamaica. There is no excitement in my hands as I type. Life as it returns to normal sucks compared to paradise. I was really happy to see my babies, but everything else could’ve waited another week! After 8 days of fun, sun, and rum, I’m thinking of using my liver as a doorstop. But boy was it worth it. Over the next several days and weeks you will see various posts complete with pics to chronicle our Jamaican holiday, this is not one of them. Rather it is more an epilogue or postlude, if you will, than a regurgitation of the week…an elegant prose of life and style:

We were sitting at Margaritaville at the Montego Bay airport waiting to fly home…enjoying a Cheeseburger in Paradise…when we were exposed to a glimpse of a lifestyle I have never quite seen up close in real life. They have been portrayed in film and TV and even by fiction writers. But never had I truly seen an entire gaggle (herd? posse? pack? flock?) of swingers. Not the porch grandparents or playground moms, but swingers…as in couples swapping counterparts. You know, the one’s that participate in what Ryan calls the competitive sport for the ugly?

I have visions of swingers being hot young couples that occasionally dabble in one another’s batter, but what we saw was anything but…I will spare you the details. Their annual trip to Hedonism III should sum it up pretty well. Let’s just say my vision has been shattered and in its place a new mental picture now resides. Hey I don’t judge, whatever floats their boats (or chaps) is cool with me. Damn the luck though, middle aged beatnik leftovers are not my ideal picture of swinging couples. I just hope my vision of Lipstick Lesbians doesn’t get shattered by the same reality check! Peace out mon, remember the world is full of all kinds of people…and it’s really entertaining to finally see them!

Concentration- Out The Door!

This is a particularly difficult week for me. As most weeks are difficult in many ways, concentration is always the race leader...this week it is MIND NUMBINGLY painful. I can barely type. I can barely complete a single tiny little thought. I am doing good in the morning to put on matching shoes, who cares about the socks. I am having to clip, chain, buckle, strap, or tie anything and everything to my body to keep from losing it. I leave tomorrow for Chicago for three days upon which I return to the fulfillment of a year long wait for Jamaica. Rum. Beach. Sun. SWIM UP BAR! Sun. Beach. Rum. Did I mention NO WORK?

This week is the culmination of my year long wait. The anticipation, which has been steadily building week after week...hey look it's raining out...uh where was I? Oh yeah, steadily building pressure and this week I am so full of the anticipation I am about to explode. The next three days are going to be TORTURE! I have been practicing how to maintain for the duration of my wait. It involves a lot of head nodding, hmms, and very little spoken word. If words are required, I have trained myself to simply say one of three options depending on the situation: "I understand", "that's interesting", or "let me check it out and get back to you". Sun. Beach. Rum. Mmm vacation...

Trouble Again

It tends to be a staple in our house...friends ask, are you in trouble...my standard response: "I am always in trouble, would you please be more specific?" But this past week, I knew it was trouble from the moment I uttered those words.

It started three weeks ago when I went to the mountains to Truck's cabin for a night of drink and solace which turned out to be a night of survival and scars. As the beer flowed and the confidence grew, we decided it a good idea to rummage through the rocky crests of the War Eagle River on our 4wheelers. Mental note: always heed the good advice of those older and wiser when they expel their wisdom "nothing good can come of this." They are always right.

Picture it...we are traversing through the darkness and the babbling water...I suddenly stumble upon a rock. Hmm...my wheeler seems to be high-centered. So I do the logical thing and step off...proceed to shake it about ferociously trying to dislodge it from its watery plateau.

This is where the trouble begins. As I stand in waist deep water, my wedding ring flies into the darkness with a distant splash into the water. Ohh...this cannot be good.

It slipped off like I had dipped my hands in a vat of clarified butter at a crab leg buffet!

It is a simple white gold band which has become increasingly loose on my ring finger with my fortuitous weight loss (my jubilation has been temporarily sidestepped due to my impending marital woes). It is gone. Vanished into the night and the dark water below. I might add at this point of the story the time is roughly midnight.

I begin to panic. No I take that back, I begin to freak out. The anxiety of facing my red-headed wife with the idea that I could lose my wedding band...INCONCEIVABLE! I must find it...so I must exhaust all efforts! I must search like hell to find it or face the wrath of the non-understanding gender. You see, guys like to do shit like this. Girls do not. When asked why we do shit like this our response is simply, "because it's cool". Need I say more?

They do not see it in the same way. Nuff said.

We search in vain for more than half an hour, to no avail. The shiny silver object was ner to be found even though I am subconsciously drawn to shiny objects from miles away. I give up and relent to the forces of the river. It is gone, never to be seen again!

At this point I declare a moment of peace, even so much as a moment of silence. I will just have to fess up and explain the situation. I am sure she will understand. Then reality sets in...WTF? HOW AM I GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS??

With a calm and collected outlook, I sternly proclaim the search to be over. Truck starts up his bike and speeds forward as I start my bike to proceed. Then, as if a moment of divine light has shone over the river bed, something cosmically phenomenal makes me turn and look over my shoulder. From the reflection of my friend's bike on a rock far ahead, I see the hint of a sparkle. Could it be my ever-sought shiny silver object? COULD IT BE?

It was found! Holy Lord it was found! It lie about 15 feet from the back of my bike and I knew at that point there could be no worse for me to fare!

I was wrong.

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Internal Clock

I had to get out of bed this morning at 4:45 to catch an early flight from San Antonio to St. Louis. In typical fashion, the alarm went off, I slapped the snooze. The phone rang with my automated wake-up call. I picked up and slammed it down. Then I spent the next 20 minutes trying to find that delicate balance between dozing and concentrating on not going past my “fail safe” time to actually get out of bed. Today that time was 5:20. The ability to sleep and concentrate on the clock simultaneously is an acquired taste much like a love of scotch; however, life would be easier if I were to just get out of bed when the alarm and phone first disturb me. That would be far too simple and thus not in line with my philosophy of life.

So anyway, back to the point of this post. Once my body semi-subconsciously decides it is time to rise and face the day with one-eye open, I have no problem. The internal clock is a magical device. If only I could harness that power in everyday life. For a more practical application consider the following: You’re at happy hour with colleagues. You are strategically holding off the first break-the-seal-pee until the conversation in which you’re engaged reaches its eight minute lull (that is the proven duration of the evolution of group conversation culminating into eight minutes of chatter before going deathly silent). Finally, you slide inconspicuously from the table and manage to make it to the urinal just before the geyser of urine spews forth in spectacular fashion. Ah, the internal clock dominates.

Or better yet, you have just had Kung-Pao Shrimp from PF Changs, your absolute favorite. You have enjoyed a nice evening with your wife of 8 yrs as you casually stroll out of the aforementioned establishment for a gentle early summer stroll. Your internal clock is ticking. It’s saying, get in the car and DRIVE…NOW. You mention we should probably head home first before going to Kohl’s to return that outfit she bought last week. On the way home, the clock is beginning to chime. The internal clock senses the distance, as if it is equipped with GPS navigation. You inch closer; one mile, then ½ mile…then you turn onto Stoney Creek Dr. Your hands are poised one on the belt buckle, one on the door handle. The garage door inches open as if time has no meaning and life will go on forever. The car makes it to the driveway and without even putting in park, you spring forth and bolt to the nearest…uh…rest-stop. You laugh, but we’ve all been there. The internal clock dominates.

Part friend, part enemy, part lover, part arch-rival…the internal clock both helps and debilitates us in perfect harmony. We should all sing the praises for our brilliant evolutionary trait which sets us apart from the animals…well that and our opposable thumbs. We hate it. We love it. No matter your preference du jour, we cannot live without it.

Top 10 Sayings by a Southwest Flight Attendant

10. “ladies and gentlemen the captain has indicated our final approach into Dallas…please discontinue the use of portable electronic devices, this includes iPods, laptops, Gameboys, Blackberries, blueberries, cranberries, and strawberries…if we should see you utilizing any electronic device, we will be compelled to confiscate it…especially if its an iPod…and you like country music…”

9. “in the unlikely event we should land in a pond in west Texas, you will find a lifevest under your seat cushion”

8. “For those of you paying attention to our safety demonstrations, thank you…to those of you that didn’t, gooood lu-uck!”

7. “…if you’re flying with a child or someone acting like a child, please place the mask over your nose and mouth first then assist the child…if you’re traveling with more than one child…what were you thinking? Well, pick the one with the most potential I guess”

6. DING…“ok kids, give your seat belt a tug and your neighbor a hug, we’ve been cleared for takeoff!”

5. “we will be dimming the cabin lights, if you need additional reading light please reach up and touch the button with the picture of a light bulb to turn on your overhead light…but please note, the button with the picture of a person will not necessarily turn on your flight attendants”

4. “ladies and gentlemen we will be coming through the cabin one last time to collect any remaining service items…cups, wrappers, newspapers, spare change, watches, jewelry, savings bonds, anything you would like to discard”

3. (singing) “ we love you, you love us, we’re much faster than the bus…with a grin and a smile we’re happy as can be…marry one of us and you’ll fly free”

2. “this is a Boeing 737-300 series, so to open the emergency exit, just pull the lever, grab the bottom handle, pull towards you and chunk it out the opening…just be careful not to scratch the paint as it cuts into our profit sharing”

1. “welcome to Phoenix, where the local time is…oh I have no idea, but I’m pretty sure it’s happy hour…last one off the plane has to clean it…kidding, the time is really…wow, it really is happy hour!”

Check Engine Light Madness

We are going on about 8 weeks...the battle for supreme weekend mechanic is heating up. I feel like I'm ahead, but that stubborn ass 4Runner just keeps getting back up. So far in my quest to eliminate the dreaded orange glow from the dashboard, I have cleaned my throttle body, replaced the throttle position sensor, cleaned the mass air flow sensor, replaced the plugs and wires, cleaned my injectors (which was really cool by the way...blue smoke for 30 minutes!), tested the ECU for defects, and have run diagnostics on my laptop a 1001 times. It keeps coming back, telling me I'm running too lean. I know the problem, just don't want to acknowledge...plus I'm again too cheap. I need to replace one of the O2 sensors, but they are expensive. If I will the light off and concentrate REALLY hard, I know it will happen. Although willing my pen to move across the desk was a huge failure, so maybe I should consider that a power which skipped me on super-power handout day. So we continue the battle...I refuse to give up...and lose! Wish me luck...

Catching Up

It's been another blog hiatus for me. I have been swamped...well sort of. Just to catch you up on life in the fast lane, I offer the following recap:

1. Most important: WE FINALLY HAVE A Wii! It consumes mucho time and the results of day one were soreness and a Wii hangover! But oh so worth it my friends. This little box is the coolest gadget since Atari!

2. Spring has sprung and I still haven't completed my landscaping vision...although I did get my backyard shrubs and trees pruned. I have been procrastinating the start of the mowing season, with good reason, it sucks. I need a yard boy, anyone know where I can get one for free?

3. Jamaica looms...we are down to about six weeks and I am no where NEAR beach body ready! It's starting to give me anxiety. I think I need a vacation from the vacation prep.

4. E enrolled in Kindergarten last week. I'm still in shock. It seems absolutely inconceivable that my oldest will start public school. On a positive note, no more preschool tuition! My tax dollars will finally support one of the Carpenter's!

5. Truck and I have found a new hobby in model rockets. It is so cool, I have the heart of a sixth grader again! The bigger the engine, the more damage is done, and it is a great pastime with beer. I would steer clear if I were you!

6. Cindy finally let me buy a flat screen for the bedroom and I spent the weekend mounting it and concealing the cords. I am totally stoked! Of course I had to concede to selling the Bowflex in exchange, oh well, well worth the trade!

7. I almost succumbed to my automotive schizophrenia this week but passed up the chance to buy a Nissan Titan, which was kick ass I might add. It was the perfect pkg, low miles, well maintained, perfect color (SILVER...Ohh Ahh), but I resisted. I am becoming too practical...Cindy is rubbing off.

There are many more completely boring tidbits of my life I could post, but will spare you the dreary read. On a side note, I am still intrigued by the presidential primaries...interested to see the finale! Peace out my peeps...til another day.

A Room With A View

I told you I would be dangerous with a camera...

And I overlook this from my sweet slumbering abode (temp abode that is)...

Project Phoenix: FINITO!

Well it has been a grueling 18 months, but FINALLY, the end has arrived! We went from old growth cotton filled farm land (weird I know, it's the desert) to this little gem of a center! Although I am excited the project is complete, I'm sad to leave the Valley of the Sun as a destination...but happy to leave behind a small bit of my blood, sweat and tears. Thought you might enjoy some pics...I just bought a new camera so you can bet there will be many more pics to come! Visual representations of my random thoughts, now that is a scary concept!

OGIO: Backpack of Dreams

It’s Friday morning and I have been up since 4am rushing to catch a flight home from Phoenix. The plane is only half-full (it’s an optimistic day) and I am stretched out across 3 seats with my 50lb rucksack of assorted electronic accoutrements sprawling its contents along side me. Joking of course when I say it weighs 50 pounds, we'll go with 30. My good ole Ogio Metro…it has been with me now for nearly 4 years, abused nearly all of that time. It’s like my security blanket and good luck charm all rolled together, lending me a sense of cohesion when my chaotic travels leave me longing for the comfort of ballistic nylon.

Anything and everything I could need or want in any given week finds a place in my go-go pack, even the kitchen sink (if you consider germ gel an equal substitute). What I cannot figure out, is why I feel the need to carry all of these electronic gadgets that each require their own charger (two in some cases)? Who the hell in the merry old land of electronics decided to have different source inputs? I carry two cell chargers (AC/DC), two Blackberry chargers (see cell chargers), iPod w/ charger and USB cord, mini/mini cord for rental cars new enough for an aux jack, headphone splitters, two sets of headphones (noise canceling and ear buds), laptop (and the chargers, mouse, memory sticks, and misc cables that go with it), camera (with extra battery and charger)…and on and on.

Even though it is high tech in surplus, it maintains a primitive role of capture and carry: Gum, Altoid tins, highlighters, pens, pencils, calculator (why? When Blackberry, cell, and laptop each have the same function…so I'm old school dude), lip balm, two pairs of sunglasses, spare change (6 lbs worth clanging around the bottom), business cards, post-its (many, many post-its), calendars, legal pads, keys, letter pads, stolen hotel pads, emergency trail mix, nail clippers, magazines (always a minimum of two, preferably three), an occasional book, project files, drawings, loose receipts, mail from six weeks ago I just threw in the bottom, yada yada yada.

It’s sad when you consider a funny blog post one which depicts the “life in a bag” as a sales pitch. Hurry, SALE SALE SALE NOW…only two minutes left and supplies are limited…don’t be left holding the bag…uhh, ok that was lame, but you get the point and I thought it was funny. If you see me randomly meandering around an airport with earbuds, double-timing with my Ogio, and looking like I have no idea a big world is revolving around outside, please do me a favor and get me an appointment with a Chiropractor. I need an adjustment.

Feeling Old

A few weeks ago, on our trip home from Texas we spent Friday night with some great friends in Dallas. Doug and Matt, two of my fraternity pledge brothers, their wives Kathy and Karen respectively and each of our broods. We hosted all at the Renaissance Hotel where we overnighted for some fun at the indoor pool, some fatty pizza, and of course a little drinky. We had a blast, kids had a great time with each other, they swam their little hearts out (in an ice cold pool I might add, of course dad’s were on water duty, thanks mommies) and all passed out side by side watching an episode of Little Einstein’s on my laptop.

The adults sat around sipping Heineken from a mini keg (thanks Doug E Fresh!) and catching up. I sort of had an out of body experience that night as I watched from atop the room our circle of friends of old chatting, laughing, drinking, just like old times. Then it really hit me that we have all come so far. It is really funny to see us all older, some of us fatter, some of us more gray, some of us balding, some of us sporting crow’s feet. I saw my parents in that room, surely that cannot be us! It really blew my mind. Well Eli, face it my friend. We are old, no doubt about it.

It will be fun as more time goes by and we still just pick up where we left off. That’s the beauty of friendship, especially those that you carry from younger days. I am excited that our move to DFW will come with the added perk of being closer to all of them. Ah, the nostalgic tide is rising, best swim to the beach for an icy cold beverage before it passes for something real, like work...boo.

Reaction to FRONTLINE

Reader beware, more political philosophy to follow, continue at your own risk:

I happened to catch the Monday night episode of Frontline on PBS (I know, dork) entitled “Bush’s War”. It was fascinating and incredibly frustrating at the same time. Although I did not sit through the nearly three hours of programming, the gist was made impeccably clear and opened my eyes even further to my continuing disdain with the Iraq War, the detaining of “terrorist” leaders unlawfully, and the gross abuse of power by the executive branch of our current Cheney regime. How have we allowed this to happen? We have all been sucker-punched with tactics of fear for our way of life. We have silently stood idle while our elected officials have waged a covert shift in national policy by sidestepping and manipulating the laws of our great nation like a crop of ambulance chasing, blood-sucking lawyers and PR professionals. We are now suffering the consequences of our actions as the world continues to devalue, rightfully so, our intentions of peace and protection for all. I will not get into details here; look them up if you dare. It will only piss me off even further. The whole point to this post was to simply vent.

With power comes incredible responsibility lawfully, politically, and ethically. Yet we sit by and watch those in power everyday undermine the principles for which we have our freedoms. I believe very strongly in the Bill of Rights. It is the basis of the Constitution of the United States of America. We simply do not hold accountable those that choose to circumvent those 10 powerful little statements. It is true of elected officials and corporate business leaders alike. I suppose the Milton Freedman free market economic theory of instability as cure has made its way into public and diplomatic policy and practice.

Enough, I will now step down from my soapbox and relinquish the mic. I urge you to pay attention to the foreign policies which have created our current quagmire, whether or not you agree with my point of view or not is quite frankly not the point. The point is no one should have the power to do what has been unless done so through the process set forth by our founding fathers. They were smart. Balance of power, three branches of government, checks and balances, they were all created to prevent this exact scenario. How did we let it go unchecked? We have only ourselves to blame.

Blog Hiatus

Well it's been awhile...to quote one of my favorite bands...since I last saw you. Below are some entries I have written and discarded while more meaningful ideas manifest inside my chaotic mind. With the notable exception of my wedding anniversary tribute, the rest are lame, and quite frankly, they suck. But I thought in light of my "tangent" ideology, I should post them anyway. Enjoy...or don't. Word.

8 Years: Early Onset LCE Syndrome

Flashback: March 18, 2000

Ah, the Y2K scare was behind us...we were settling into the 00's quite nicely. But most importantly, Eli and Cindy (also affectionately known as Papa E and Mama Hansen) became Mr. and Mrs. Eli M Carpenter...or was it Mr. and Mrs. Cynthia A. Hansen, I forget (not really true, we all know the answer). We were married in a church with people around, then shuttled to the Waterford hotel to drink into the night. That pretty much sums it up...our wedding day. A blissful time for all, including Cindy and I, although it was mostly a blur (the euphoria of the event, not the alcohol). Most thought we would probably never make it that far, much less to 2008. But sometimes people surprise you, by people I mean me. I finally grew up. I finally finished school, albeit with 216 hours of undergrad work. I finally got a real job. Cindy finally got to quit her job to raise babies. We finally bought into the suburban lifestyle with a 4 bedroom mortgage and a minivan (ugh). I still maintain my individualism by throwing stickers on the back of my old 4runner and dreaming of getting a tattoo (which I will never do dad). Ok, so some things never change.

On that beautifully crisp (by crisp I mean butt ass cold) early spring evening, I experienced the first symptom of the affliction I have now diagnosed as LCE Syndrome. LCE stands for Life Changing Event. It is no joke people, quit snickering! On our wedding night, a beautiful union of souls, I became the victim of severe fever and gastric issues of monumental proportion. Two and a half years later, the night E was born, the EXACT same symptoms reared their nasty little heads once again. Then came the transfer to Tulsa, the 25th Street house fiasco (Gigi made Cindy cry while eight months prego, that beotch), the move to Arkansas (9 months later), the birth of F, the Halleck Coach house that cracked (and ensuing drama with dealing with the developer), the move to Stoney Creek...all accompanied by the same LCE symptoms. Hmm. Strange, no?

It has been a very interesting decade for the Carpenter's. It all began on Texas Street in Norman, OK. So in eight years, we have moved exactly six times, bought eight pieces of property, built a house, euthanized a pet (we miss Fatty), replaced him with a Shit-Zu (wrong spelling, but accurate description), had two clones, bought a minivan, and have still managed to maintain some sense of sanity and decorum. Whew...can we retire to the beach yet?

Happy Anniversary G! It has been a wild ride, and I am soooooo glad we are finally beginning to see the benefit of being normal! Much love to all (especially my G) during this spring of further impending change.

Bittersweet Life Change

It is officially unofficial, our pending move to DFW is closer than once thought. The project in Ft. Worth has been pushed out another year and as a result I am picking up projects all over hell’s half acre. I have been on the road every week since returning from Thanksgiving vacation with the exception of a few trips of our own on the side. The sad truth is I have been “home” only a handful of days. Oh well, home is where you hang your hat, right? So with that, I had a long conversation with the upper echelon regarding my potential relocation and they have now decided it is probably best to get us moved before E starts school in the fall. This is much sooner than I expected. I was anticipating another year in AR.

I know it sounds crazy, but I actually love it here. We have been here for almost five years (which in itself is hard to believe) and managed to build our lives from scratch. We moved here with no expectations and without the support of local friends and family…we knew not a soul. It was a long first six months. E was only nine months old and in that first six months we managed to procreate again. Shortly after moving onto Halleck Coach (11 months after arriving), F graced us with his presence. Our isolation all changed when we started branching out meeting new friends, moving houses, meeting great neighbors, and really settling in for a lifetime of happiness. So it is with bittersweet anticipation we are awaiting the next chapter. Cindy is really excited, me not so much. I am flying to Chicago next week to discuss the next step and get a firm sense of timing. The housing market could not be shittier at present, so it will be interesting to see what becomes of that mess. To keep and rent, or to sell, that is the question. And what will become of the little rent house we already own…it’s hard to manage property from 350 miles away, so many questions creating so much more stress.

I will try over the next few weeks to view the situation with a glass half-full outlook. In time I too will become excited, after all I have always wanted to move back to Dallas. But now, I am sad to leave our life as we know it. I am sad to leave my friends who have become my surrogate family. All good things must come to an end…so they say. I will try to embrace it and look toward the future. I am lucky I work for guys that are willing to consider my whole family as an asset and not just me, so I am thankful for the opportunity.

It’s hard to think E might start school in some unknown ISD in the DFW metroplex within a few short months. Life goes on…and time waits for no man. To quote one of my favorite films, The Shawshank Redemption, “get busy livin, or get busy dyin.”

Spring Renewal: Written 3-17-08

March 20 is the official first day of spring. I am very anxious for it to arrive after battling a bad case of spring fever since early February. The sky seems more clear, the air fresh, the zenith of the sun especially bright. The days are longer. The mornings start later, my personal favorite. Yes it is the season of rejuvenation and renewal. It is true with nature and should be so for mankind as well. Next weekend is also Easter, which (duh) is the end of the season of Lent. I did not make it on my quest this year, giving up just two weeks before Easter on my Diet Dr. Pepper dry spell. Surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me this year. There are so many more things I can do to give of myself, why fuss with self-sacrifice which really only benefits self and what’s the point in that? Self-sacrifice should benefit others. What better time of year to pay it forward than the season of renewal? Ok, ok, perhaps I should lead by example…and I will as soon as I figure out what to do…but for now, I’m trying to psyche myself up for a rejuvenating season of mind, body, and soul. For those of you not excited about the coming change, boo. Close your eyes and think of yourself on Panama City Beach, it’s 1995, your 21. You looked forward to it for WEEKS…it can be like that again. In my head, I sit on that beach everyday during the dreary end of winter. Plus, you get green beer today…and March Madness has begun…the March Trifecta! Now go out and do!

A Cheers Moment

Ah the beautiful Westin La Cantera resort, my home away from home. Last night I arrived and unpacked my car, loaded up my trinkets, hiked up the hill to the entrance, and bounced in the front door. As I rounded the corner of the forer and before I could approach the front desk, Arturo, the friendly desk manager, says to me "welcome back Mr. Carpenter, how is the project coming along?" I think I may come here a little too often.

My room on the concierge floor was ready for me, complete with raspberry chocolates (my favorite). I unloaded my trinkets, sipped from my always handy bottle of water, and headed back out the door to visit Steinheimer's, the hotel's cantina, for a quick drink while jotting down some blog post ideas. This is always my moment to decompress. I walked through the door and before I could even take a seat, Philip, the bartender says "hey man, welcome back, Coors Light?"

Yes, I am here too often, but as long as I don't become the embodiment of Cliff Clavin, it'll be ok. Besides, sometimes you just wanna go where everybody knows your name.

Genesis of a Pre-Mid-Life Mini Crisis

As a sign of maintaining my dork status and jump starting what will certainly become a righteously funny mid-life scenario, I spent the remainder of my Christmas money (plus slightly more) on a few new toys over the weekend. I finally bought a small 32" flat screen for the upstairs playroom. To go along with it, I decided what the hell, let's add a PlayStation 3...oh yes I did! I then proceeded to spend the entire day rearranging the playroom/family room/office to find the optimal location for each "zone" of use.

It was important to optimize viewing, play area, and office/desk area in a bonus room slightly larger than an over sized bedroom. For hours, and I mean literally hours, I muscled furniture, unpacked and repacked shelves again and again, shuffled toys and chairs, and eventually ended back where I started. Nothing really changed. All my wasted time, which I can never get back, was for nada. The only change was a simple swap of kid toy area and desk area which allowed for the kids a reading nook and play zone. I have no doubt they will contain their toys as per my plan.

The new TV, which I had planned to mount on the wall, still sits atop the old black buffet cabinet where it has since the beginning. I did, however, find a place to stash the PS3...on top of the DVR. Now all I need is a bean bag chair and a mini bar and the transformation will be complete...I told you, dork. Never mind a busy travel schedule compresses my chore schedule into two very short days, this was important! So as predicted, not a single to-do item was crossed off the list this weekend, oh well, another one comes in just 5 long days!

Politics

Yeah I know, it's not exactly apropos to discuss on a non-political blog of random regurgitation. But tonight I watched the democratic debate in Austin. I have been on the fence since the beginning of the political season as to whom I would support (even skipped the Super Tuesday primary in AR). I have finally made my decision and although it pains me because I am forever a Bill Clinton fan, I have to cast my vote for Obama.

I have never seen such a rapid and staunch following of turncoat Republicans in all my days of voting...it is amazing. Last night I was having this conversation with my boss, who just so happens to be a fairly conservative Republican, and was amazed at his comparison between Obama and JFK. What? Did I just hear that correctly? So I did a little research...turns out, he was right on the mark. It's the youthful charisma which continues to sweep the nation, but if you look closely at the platform, there is also substance. It is our generation which will retire in 2035 only to run out of social security in 2041. It is our generation and younger that continue to fight in Iraq for an unspoken cause (oil) under the guise of democracy and freedom. It is time our generation did something about it.

As a voter, I am opposed to pork barrel spending, career politicians who accomplish nothing, special interest groups (I think all lobbyists should be banned from the hill), and Rove-ish political practices for the betterment of wealthy Texans. On the surface, that sounds like McCain. But I am also in favor of some form of universal health care, increased funding for education, equal rights for all, and the distinct separation of church and state. So by nature, I am not permitted to be a Republican, nor would I want to be.

So in closing, I am very glad to see the fanatical right-wing has fallen from the plane and we can finally get down to the real business at hand...fixing issues which affect us all, not just voting for someone because they oppose gay marriage. Why the hell was that ever an issue in politics? Who cares? I want to know why the poverty rate in the US has increased over the past 8 years while the collective wealth has done the same. It is time for change, and frankly, I'm down with the guy who has managed to inspire record numbers of young voters. He may not be perfect. He may not have the experience. But he has the charisma to inspire the people of this country to take back what is rightfully theirs. This is truly a government of the people, by the people, and for the people...all people. Our ancestors, grandparents, parents, and siblings fought hard for us to maintain the right to rule our own land. Lest we never forget it.

Yurt, Funny Name, Serious Hike...

Websters dictionary defines the Yurt as:

-n: a circular domed tent of skins or felt stretched over a collapsible lattice framework and used by pastoral peoples of inner Asia.

Eli's dictionary defines it as:

-n: a round thing in the middle of a pass, up an inclined, long-ass hike in the snow, where dinner and drinks are served with no electricity or running water and one is forced to pee in the duel-loading outhouse whose true aroma is masked by the fragrant wafting of scented candles burning incessantly; n: a cool place to spend the evening, even with a mile-long hike up and back; n: a structure for getting back to one's roots, typically not from pastoral Asian decent, but Coloradan rockyish mountainesque; adj: a precise description of one's time hiking up and down the hill to have a candlelit dinner for five (e.g. What a hell of a Yurt-y time we had the other night in the bitter cold. Remember that time we hiked up the hill a mile for a Yurt-y good time with some Yurt-y good food and wine?)

It was an experience, and it was really fun. I am so glad we did it, and even more thankful we didn't have to call the snow mobile to haul Cindy the rest of the way! For more info and pics, check out her blog (http://foursooners.blogspot.com/2008/02/will-walk-for-food.html )...I suck at adding pics to mine...the Yurt-y ending.

Airport Hijinks

A funny thing happened this week during my travels. I arrived at the Tulsa International Airport (of which I am intimately familiar) to find a man sprawled out face down on the sidewalk in front of the door. There were several emergency vehicles and, in no small part because it was the most fascinating event to happen in weeks, the TIA security/police detail. I gawked, of course, as they helped the man sit upright and spoke to him in childish overtones. They were no doubt trying to dissuade a potential lawsuit due to the teeny bit of ice, which crouched in a minute corner, the guy perhaps purposefully stepped on to fall. It got me thinking. If it were truly an accident, I am full of pity and empathy. If not, screw him. It is that type of individual which perpetuates our increasingly litigious society for unfounded gain. The funny thing is, I have seen this type of scenario play out many times while waiting for a flight and rarely do I give it a second thought. Once however, it affected me. Bitter I was.

It was in St. Louis, American Airlines, the flight was slightly delayed (I know, shocker) and the flight attendants were lined up next to the gate agent stand waiting to board. A woman standing in line at the counter, arguing an absurd case for seat changes (on a full flight I might add), stepped back in disgust, turned to return to her seat and tripped on the rubber threshold between terrazzo flooring and carpet. The nearest flight attendant, with baggage in tow, turned and immediately offered apologies for the poor woman’s trip over what he thought was his roll-aboard luggage. I watched the drama unfold. The woman was face down, which I am sure hurt like hell, then her entire family came to the rescue. She was fine, embarrassed I’m sure, but nonetheless unhurt. What happened next really pissed me off. See I was the next name on the upgrade standby list. It was a certainty I would spend my airtime in the bliss of over sized navy blue leather with free cocktail in hand. Such was not to be. Not only did I not receive my upgrade, but the entire family of 4 was upgraded after a spectacular feat of dramatic acting. So, finally aboard, I offered my name and contact info to the poor flight attendant as I told him the REAL story of what happened. It was never his fault; she didn’t trip over his bags. She tripped over a dumb ass piece of rubber on the floor and ruined my last leg home while doing so.

So yesterday, upon my arrival at the airport in San Antonio, I stepped off the escalator to see a woman sprawled out on the floor. She was surrounded by medical technicians and emergency personnel. All I could do was roll my eyes and be thankful I was arriving rather than departing…no chance for her to steal my upgraded seat. At the risk of sounding like a cynical jackass, I did have some pity, for I’m sure it hurt; but I can’t help but wonder if it was really an accident or a flair for the dramatic. Hmm…just like trying to guess the number of licks to the center of a tootsie roll pop, the world may never know. Maybe I am now tainted as a cynic for life…I hope not, but the more I see those acts unfold, the more I shake my head in disgust. Travel safely, and watch your damn step, I'm not losing my seat again for those who feel they are entitled to more than is due!

The Ultimate Dork Reveals Himself

I admit it, I’m a dork. I always have been, always will be. The most mundane geeky ideas are what pique my interest most often: the fish pond design, the idea of garage ceiling storage using a system of cable and pulleys, building a ceiling suspended bridge for the train set around F’s room, a funky canopy design for the back patio, a homemade LED light fixture for the play room, the pending master bath remodel, Lincoln Logs, Tinker Toys, the “Coaster Bus”, and the list goes on. The projects that appear in my head endless times throughout the day could keep me busy until my last breath. Unfortunately, or not, depending on which way you look at it, I forget half of the ideas before attempting to start them. If started, they remain in a state of suspended animation while I bounce to the next with little to no follow through.

So being that I’ve developed a tinkering habit, I started screwing around with my PC. I took apart an old one lying around my office, then took apart my laptop (still have one screw missing) in a search to figure out a way to run Soldier of Fortune 3 from my not-so powerful video driver chip set. You were warned, dork. The irony here is I’ve never been a computer geek and barely know how to navigate windows much less screw with hardware and system settings. I found a way. Message boards are a blessing to the technically challenged. They turn the untalented and mechanically challenged geeks of the world like me into cyber info junkies seeking results. It took me several weeks to figure out how to run the game, which I have never played before, but finally met with success. With all the time spent, I have logged only one solid hour of playtime. The challenge is over, so it’s no longer as fun. If I were earning a paycheck for all these dorky projects, I’d be selling plasma to pay the light bill.

Enter the YotaTech.com forums. If only I had a dollar for every minute wasted clicking aimlessly around the 4runner pages. It did help me replace the brakes DIY style, replace the rear axle seals, pinpoint the problem with my door locks, and even gave me ideas on how to mount my iPod inconspicuously as an auxiliary to the head unit. Irony strikes again. I’ve never worked on a car before. Never changed my own oil or replaced plugs, filters or belts much less brake pads and axle seals.

Tonight I sit wasting time finding templates for constructing a scale model trestle bridge for the aforementioned train set. There are some good ideas out there, but mine must be unique. I’ll be sure to post pics of my endeavors (translation: mistakes and countless prototypes) for your entertainment. Now you know my secret. I am a dork, but proud of it!

Giants Win

I am not a Giants fan. I'm not a Patriots fan. But something about the Super Bowl tonight made me root whole-heartedly for the Giants! Anyone named "Eli" has my vote for a win! Besides, Brady is a punk...who knocks up a supermodel, then breaks up only to date another supermodel?...what a hard life. Hats off to the NY Giants, it was not only a great game for spectators, but a humbling experience for "some", not mentioning names. MEADOWLANDS RULE!

GF: Reflection of Life Together

Cindy and I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. We are opposed to the commercially driven materialism of a holiday which really has no meaning (well she told me she was anyway, whether true or not is debatable!). Nonetheless, I feel compelled to reflect on our life together as a unit. I am lucky to be married to my college-found soul mate. I am lucky she puts up with me and all my man/boy antics, the same stories and jokes, the temper, the chaotic lack of organization, the forgetfulness, the Eli piles.

The first day I met her, there was a spark. Ironically, we lived on the same floor of a 12 story dormitory as freshmen. It wasn’t until the following year, just before winter break, did I meet her officially. She was the best friend of one of my fraternity brothers. I always knew who she was…the shoulder length silky red hair, the bright red lipstick, the denim shirts, the brilliant sparkling blue eyes, and even her trademark lip curl. When I did meet her at an “end of finals week” party, I was smitten. She was perfect: low maintenance, fun, laid back, extremely grounded, focused, and fiercely independent. I even woke up early the next morning to pick her up and drive her to the airport in my old Jeep. I just couldn’t get enough time with her. She was flying home to Denver for the holidays.

A few weeks later, a few friends and I stopped by her house while driving through Denver on our way to Winter Park for a ski trip. She and her sister Amy ended up driving up to ski with us. That was all it took. Cindy and I spent New Year’s Eve talking into the night and I knew that my instincts were spot on. I, of course, babbled on about petty college drama. She listened intently, even repeatedly offered advice. I told my friend Doug on the way home I would marry her someday. For the next few months I pursued, unsuccessfully, our first date. I kept asking, she kept saying no…we were just friends. She finally caved to my persistence and said yes on St. Patrick’s Day 1994, no doubt induced by the green beer we had consumed.

The rest is history. In retaliation, I finally caved to the idea of married life six years after our first real date and chose March 18th in honor of our lucky drunken holiday. Now, fourteen years after that Christmas trip, we are a family. We managed to create two little clones…our legacies.

It has been a typical couple’s journey full of good times, good trips, bad times, worse times, hectic and stressful times, child birth, ups and downs, sleepless nights, screaming matches, sacrifice, silent treatments, laughter, and rekindling. I once heard that marriage is defined by the stuff which happens between the joyous photos of an album. I’ve learned one important lesson so far along the way. It’s ok to have bad times, it’s probably even healthy. Growing apart is natural and you can’t stop it; but you can build bridges that connect those gaps. She is my lifelong best friend and we seem to always find a way to mend whatever tear, albeit not always easily. Given all of that, we both knew it wouldn’t be easy but it would be worth it. It is today. It will be tomorrow. I regret not a single second and, if given the opportunity, wouldn’t do it any differently.