Give'em the finger
I'm learning how to use the social media for column ideas. Lately, I'll keep an eye on Twitter to see what's trending. Also, I'll put something on Facebook and see if I get a reaction or two. I think of it like I think of my column- I could care less whether someone agrees with me or not. I just want to be interesting. If I can make someone so happy or so mad that they want to read my column again next week, then I've done my job. It's that simple.
Last week, I posted something on Facebook about Arizona Governor Jan Brewer pointing her finger in the face of President Barack Obama. I'm sure you've all seen it by now, if you haven't you can Google it. The President stepped off of Air Force 1, the Arizona Governor was there to meet him, and sparks flew.
All I said was no matter if you are Republican or Democrat, male or female, white or black- if you put your finger in the President's face, you deserve to have it broken. And boy, did I get just the reaction I was looking for.
Some people agreed with me, others made it clear that if Mr. Obama was burning they wouldn't take the time to put him out. And one girl who is ten times smarter than me wrote something so long and so over my head that I finally just stopped reading because it was making me feel dumber.
I'm not a huge Barack Obama fan. I'm not in favor of his health care program, and every time he extends the unemployment benefits I want to scream. I think if you haven't found a job in almost three years, you're being a little picky on what you're looking for.
But I'll tell you this- the way that people disrespect the man and the office in which he holds is almost enough to make me back him. No other president- and I promise you, there have been worse- has been this disrespected so many times. Right from the beginning, during his first State of the Union address, someone yelled out "You lie" while he was talking. Right there, in front of millions of t.v. viewers. Can you imagine if someone had yelled like that while George Bush Sr. were addressing the nation?
He's had his Christianity questioned. I'd be willing to bet that not one of the 43 previous presidents had it rumored that they were Muslim. First of all, not all Muslim fly airplanes in to buildings and are bad people. That's like saying all Catholic priests molest little boys, or all Baptist preachers pay homosexual men in drugs to massage them. Secondly, one day people were in an uproar over what Obama's preacher had said in church one Sunday. The next day, they were calling him a Muslim. Make up your minds, is he a Muslim or does he go to church?
Then there was a movement led by Donald Trump of all people to make Obama prove he was even American. Say it out loud with me, folks. Donald Trump, a reality t.v. star who has gone bankrupt more than once, had the gall and the backing to convince the President of the United States to produce his birth certificate. How embarrassing and disgusting. And the worst part is, Trump had the whole Republican party on his side.
And now he's got some crazy lady in a terrible pant suit shaking her finger in his face in public. It just so happens, she was also promoting a book in which she mentions an earlier meeting with him at the White House. Minutes after the meeting she said he had been cordial and attentive. In the book she wrote he was rude and arrogant. You decide for yourself it that was a coincidence or not.
And for those who defend Governor Brewer or still think I'm overreacting to this, I want you to think back on when the Dixie Chicks were at a concert overseas and spoke out against the war and George W. Bush. Oh my God, people went crazy. They couldn't believe how those girls spoke out against America. They hated soldiers. Other rednecks were blasting them on award shows. People were smashing their CDs in the streets. It was chaos. And all they did was speak their minds, not wag fingers in faces.
Now look, I know most politicians are slimy. I've never met a politician that didn't feel just a little greasy to me, Republican or Democrat. And I know that both sides of Congress is a joke and a waste of taxpayer money. But the office of the President- whether it is filled with Bill Clinton and his many mistresses, George W. and his goofy faces and remedial reading skills, or Barack Obama and all his problems- I still feel should be respected. If you have a problem with his politics, that's fine. Just don't make everything so personal.
And don't shake your damn finger in his face.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Strong fences
When former Penn State head coach Joe Paterno died Sunday, ESPN and all the other networks spent most of the morning talking to friends, former colleagues and players. One former player who went on to play in the NFL got my attention with something he said about Paterno. I'm paraphrasing here, but pretty much what he said was JoPa acted as an extension of your father when you left home. And for those players who came from a home with no father, he became their father figure. He taught them so much more than how to play football. He taught them how to tuck their shirt in, how to say "yes, sir and no, sir", how to treat a lady, etc. The player said that Paterno had just as much impact on his life at that critical age of 18-22 years old as his own father did.
That hit home to me because I had someone just like that in my life. At about the age of 17 or so I started working for the newspaper, putting on address labels the night before we shipped them out. The man who owned the paper at that time also owned a ranch, and before long I started going out there and helping him build fences, work cows, and all that fun country boy stuff. I also did newspaper routes for him at night, and pretty much whatever else he needed me to do.
My father and mother divorced when I was so young that I can't even remember him at all from my childhood, and my mom went on to marry someone else. They also divorced when I was pretty young, so this man that I worked for became the closest thing to a father figure that I had ever known. Or maybe it was a big brother type of relationship, I don't know.
Whatever it was, he was the one to teach me about so many things. He taught me to never put all my eggs into one basket. If you make your living from two or three different places, then one place will never have a complete hold on you. He taught me how to provide for a family, to put your wife and kids' needs first- way above yours.
He showed me how to work hard, how to take pride in whatever I was doing at the time. I remember carrying a very heavy cedar corner post through a dry creek bed one day, and I was tripping on brush and sliding down the bank over and over. Finally I got mad and asked him why we had to use such heavy posts to make a stupid fence, anyway.
"Because," he told me, "the corner posts are constantly getting pressure from all sides. The other parts of the fence- the t-posts, the gates, even the wire, are all getting their strength from the corner posts. That's why we sink them in the ground so deep, pour in concrete, and stomp dirt all around them. No, if you want to build a good fence, a fence that will last, you have to have good, strong corner posts."
I don't get to talk to him very much any more- once or twice a year, at best. He's got family and work, I've got family and work... But I still feel exactly the same about him today as I did twenty years ago. It's kind of like what that football player said about Paterno- even though he didn't see him much anymore, or even talk to him, he always knew he was there. And that was enough. He could always draw strength from that.
Kind of like a corner post.
When former Penn State head coach Joe Paterno died Sunday, ESPN and all the other networks spent most of the morning talking to friends, former colleagues and players. One former player who went on to play in the NFL got my attention with something he said about Paterno. I'm paraphrasing here, but pretty much what he said was JoPa acted as an extension of your father when you left home. And for those players who came from a home with no father, he became their father figure. He taught them so much more than how to play football. He taught them how to tuck their shirt in, how to say "yes, sir and no, sir", how to treat a lady, etc. The player said that Paterno had just as much impact on his life at that critical age of 18-22 years old as his own father did.
That hit home to me because I had someone just like that in my life. At about the age of 17 or so I started working for the newspaper, putting on address labels the night before we shipped them out. The man who owned the paper at that time also owned a ranch, and before long I started going out there and helping him build fences, work cows, and all that fun country boy stuff. I also did newspaper routes for him at night, and pretty much whatever else he needed me to do.
My father and mother divorced when I was so young that I can't even remember him at all from my childhood, and my mom went on to marry someone else. They also divorced when I was pretty young, so this man that I worked for became the closest thing to a father figure that I had ever known. Or maybe it was a big brother type of relationship, I don't know.
Whatever it was, he was the one to teach me about so many things. He taught me to never put all my eggs into one basket. If you make your living from two or three different places, then one place will never have a complete hold on you. He taught me how to provide for a family, to put your wife and kids' needs first- way above yours.
He showed me how to work hard, how to take pride in whatever I was doing at the time. I remember carrying a very heavy cedar corner post through a dry creek bed one day, and I was tripping on brush and sliding down the bank over and over. Finally I got mad and asked him why we had to use such heavy posts to make a stupid fence, anyway.
"Because," he told me, "the corner posts are constantly getting pressure from all sides. The other parts of the fence- the t-posts, the gates, even the wire, are all getting their strength from the corner posts. That's why we sink them in the ground so deep, pour in concrete, and stomp dirt all around them. No, if you want to build a good fence, a fence that will last, you have to have good, strong corner posts."
I don't get to talk to him very much any more- once or twice a year, at best. He's got family and work, I've got family and work... But I still feel exactly the same about him today as I did twenty years ago. It's kind of like what that football player said about Paterno- even though he didn't see him much anymore, or even talk to him, he always knew he was there. And that was enough. He could always draw strength from that.
Kind of like a corner post.
In the news...
A lot of folks have asked me about the whole workout regimen. It's going pretty good so far. I've lost a few pounds (not enough), I've been running three times a week, and my heartburn has pretty much gone away. But now it will start getting tougher.
The weather will start getting colder and nastier. I have to start adding more minutes to my run. But the worst thing about trying to be healthy right now is trying to avoid the Girl Scout Cookies. I can only have 1,875 calories a day, which isn't near as much as it sounds. And I'm telling you, I can eat that much in Girl Scout Cookies by lunch time. So the next couple of weeks will be a test.
Let's see, what else is in the news?
I see the GOP debates are going pretty strong now. My guess is that Mitt Romney will be the one to go against President Obama when it's all said and done. But we'll have to see how these Super Packs shake things up. For those that don't know, Super Packs are groups of very, very rich people that can raise all the money they want, in some cases up to $350 million, and use it to back a certain candidate. If they are backing Candidate A, they can say whatever they want to about Candidate B and C, true or not. And Candidate A doesn't have to take responsibility for anything they say, because they aren't really affiliated with them. It's going to make things even dirtier than they usually are, and that's saying something.
This cruise ship running aground off the coast of Italy bothers me a little. My wife and I have been wanting to take a cruise at some point, but now I don't know. I mean, I know it's a freak accident and it will probably never happen again, but still. I'm not a strong swimmer, in fact I can barely swim at all. If things were to go haywire, I know I'd let women and children grab the lifeboats first. But then what? I'd be stuck with one of those silly little orange vests, and an upside down coffee table or something. I've seen Titanic, I know how that situation usually ends up.
And finally, I don't know about you but I'm glad Tim Tebow and the Denver Broncos are out of the playoffs. Well actually, I do know about you. Or 40% of you, anyway. ESPN did a poll of Tebow fans, and 40% of them said they believed tthey divine intervention played a role in a few of his wins. Come on, folks.
Despite my wife begging me not to, I poked fun at a few Tebow fans on Facebook. Couldn't help myself. To me there is nothing more fun that jabbing people that are on the far, far right. And that's where most Tebow fans reside.
One lady told me that I had a problem with his religion. I promise, that isn't it. But let me ask you this- what if that were it? Would that be so bad? I am 100% sure that more than a few of his fans like him just because of his religious views, so why can't someone not like him for the same reason? I like sandwiches on wheat bread, my wife likes white bread. That doesn't mean that one of us is a bad person, or we are going to Hell, or anything like that. It just means we are different, that's all. The same should apply to political views, religious views, and Tebow fans.
Half the players in the NFL are religious, two of my three friends are religious, my wife and kids are religious, etc. Religious people don't bother me at all. I'm not a Tebow fan because he isn't very accurate with the football. And as crazy as it sounds, I like my quarterbacks to be accurate.
I'm sure he's a great guy and everything, but I wish people wouldn't build him up so much in that regard. Everytime fans or the public build someone up too high, there is only one way they can go. And then through no fault of their own, they look like hypocrites when the fact is, they are just human. Nobody can live up to the standards that folks have put on some of these celebrities. Everyone has their own Girl Scout Cookie craving that they submit to from time to time.
A lot of folks have asked me about the whole workout regimen. It's going pretty good so far. I've lost a few pounds (not enough), I've been running three times a week, and my heartburn has pretty much gone away. But now it will start getting tougher.
The weather will start getting colder and nastier. I have to start adding more minutes to my run. But the worst thing about trying to be healthy right now is trying to avoid the Girl Scout Cookies. I can only have 1,875 calories a day, which isn't near as much as it sounds. And I'm telling you, I can eat that much in Girl Scout Cookies by lunch time. So the next couple of weeks will be a test.
Let's see, what else is in the news?
I see the GOP debates are going pretty strong now. My guess is that Mitt Romney will be the one to go against President Obama when it's all said and done. But we'll have to see how these Super Packs shake things up. For those that don't know, Super Packs are groups of very, very rich people that can raise all the money they want, in some cases up to $350 million, and use it to back a certain candidate. If they are backing Candidate A, they can say whatever they want to about Candidate B and C, true or not. And Candidate A doesn't have to take responsibility for anything they say, because they aren't really affiliated with them. It's going to make things even dirtier than they usually are, and that's saying something.
This cruise ship running aground off the coast of Italy bothers me a little. My wife and I have been wanting to take a cruise at some point, but now I don't know. I mean, I know it's a freak accident and it will probably never happen again, but still. I'm not a strong swimmer, in fact I can barely swim at all. If things were to go haywire, I know I'd let women and children grab the lifeboats first. But then what? I'd be stuck with one of those silly little orange vests, and an upside down coffee table or something. I've seen Titanic, I know how that situation usually ends up.
And finally, I don't know about you but I'm glad Tim Tebow and the Denver Broncos are out of the playoffs. Well actually, I do know about you. Or 40% of you, anyway. ESPN did a poll of Tebow fans, and 40% of them said they believed tthey divine intervention played a role in a few of his wins. Come on, folks.
Despite my wife begging me not to, I poked fun at a few Tebow fans on Facebook. Couldn't help myself. To me there is nothing more fun that jabbing people that are on the far, far right. And that's where most Tebow fans reside.
One lady told me that I had a problem with his religion. I promise, that isn't it. But let me ask you this- what if that were it? Would that be so bad? I am 100% sure that more than a few of his fans like him just because of his religious views, so why can't someone not like him for the same reason? I like sandwiches on wheat bread, my wife likes white bread. That doesn't mean that one of us is a bad person, or we are going to Hell, or anything like that. It just means we are different, that's all. The same should apply to political views, religious views, and Tebow fans.
Half the players in the NFL are religious, two of my three friends are religious, my wife and kids are religious, etc. Religious people don't bother me at all. I'm not a Tebow fan because he isn't very accurate with the football. And as crazy as it sounds, I like my quarterbacks to be accurate.
I'm sure he's a great guy and everything, but I wish people wouldn't build him up so much in that regard. Everytime fans or the public build someone up too high, there is only one way they can go. And then through no fault of their own, they look like hypocrites when the fact is, they are just human. Nobody can live up to the standards that folks have put on some of these celebrities. Everyone has their own Girl Scout Cookie craving that they submit to from time to time.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Letter to my oldest
This is going to sound like a corny cliche, but it's the truth. It seems like just yesterday that your mom went in to labor with you. I remember everything about that day. It was a Sunday. Your mom and I had lunch at your aunt's house earlier, like we always did on Sundays. Now we were home, watching The Sopranos on t.v., like we always did on Sundays. And we were both inhaling Mint Girl Scout cookies, like we always did on Sundays during The Sopranos. Other than it being your mom's birthday, it was just like every other Sunday of the year.
Then, every other Sunday turned into the best Sunday of my life. Your mom told me she thought "it was time", and we loaded up the bags and headed to the hospital. The next day the most gorgeous little girl in the world was born, and my life would never be the same.
And now you are turning the big thirteen. It's crazy to me how time slowed down and even seemed to stop on the day you were born, but it has gone by so fast in the last thirteen years. I'm so mad at myself because even now when I'm trying my hardest, I can't remember the first step you took, or the first word you uttered, or how old you were when you gave up the bottle and pacifier.
Anyway, let me get to the point of the letter. Some of what I'm going to tell you, I've already told you a hundred times. Some of it will be new to you. And I know that as a teenager, you aren't going to be happy being a part of my column anymore. So I'll make you a deal- if you promise to cut this one out and save it, I'll make this the last one that is solely about you.
Okay, first of all I want you to know that over the next few years you will have tons of firsts- first time driving, first time going to a teenager party, first love, etc.
And at times, it will all seem like a roller coaster for you. You will have the time of your life one day, and be lower than low the next. Unfortutnately, the lows are just as much a part of life as the highs. You will get your heart broken, but it will only make you appreciate real love when you find it. You will lose a friend or family member along the way, but it will only make you appreciate the friends or family members that you still have. If you remember anything from this letter, remember this- almost nothing in life is ever as bad, or as good, as it seems to be at the time. There will always be a way to get out of a jam, or to get something done. The level-headed will always be more likely to find it. So learn the difference between being passionate about something, and being emotional.
Remember that you carry our last name with you wherever you go. Your mother and I have worked hard to earn a good reputation, so don't screw it up. I'm not saying that you shouldn't have fun, because you should. But always conduct yourself as if you are being watched at all times (knowing your mother like I do, you probably are).
And finally, know that some people will let you down from time to time. Everyone makes mistakes, even those that you put on a pedestal. Hold them accountable, but try not to judge them too harshly.
I wish I could promise you that your teenage years will be all butterflies and hearts, but I can't. Here's a few things that I can promise you, though.
I promise that your mother and I will always have high expecations for you, butt into your business, read your text messages, and just overall get on your very last nerve from time to time. I promise you that we aren't just being mean or nosey. From the first day that your mom knew you existed, every single decision that we've made has been to help you succeed in life. Every single one. No matter what, that won't change.
And finally, I promise that you will get a job as soon as it's legal for you to work. Someone has to pay for all these birthday parties.
This is going to sound like a corny cliche, but it's the truth. It seems like just yesterday that your mom went in to labor with you. I remember everything about that day. It was a Sunday. Your mom and I had lunch at your aunt's house earlier, like we always did on Sundays. Now we were home, watching The Sopranos on t.v., like we always did on Sundays. And we were both inhaling Mint Girl Scout cookies, like we always did on Sundays during The Sopranos. Other than it being your mom's birthday, it was just like every other Sunday of the year.
Then, every other Sunday turned into the best Sunday of my life. Your mom told me she thought "it was time", and we loaded up the bags and headed to the hospital. The next day the most gorgeous little girl in the world was born, and my life would never be the same.
And now you are turning the big thirteen. It's crazy to me how time slowed down and even seemed to stop on the day you were born, but it has gone by so fast in the last thirteen years. I'm so mad at myself because even now when I'm trying my hardest, I can't remember the first step you took, or the first word you uttered, or how old you were when you gave up the bottle and pacifier.
Anyway, let me get to the point of the letter. Some of what I'm going to tell you, I've already told you a hundred times. Some of it will be new to you. And I know that as a teenager, you aren't going to be happy being a part of my column anymore. So I'll make you a deal- if you promise to cut this one out and save it, I'll make this the last one that is solely about you.
Okay, first of all I want you to know that over the next few years you will have tons of firsts- first time driving, first time going to a teenager party, first love, etc.
And at times, it will all seem like a roller coaster for you. You will have the time of your life one day, and be lower than low the next. Unfortutnately, the lows are just as much a part of life as the highs. You will get your heart broken, but it will only make you appreciate real love when you find it. You will lose a friend or family member along the way, but it will only make you appreciate the friends or family members that you still have. If you remember anything from this letter, remember this- almost nothing in life is ever as bad, or as good, as it seems to be at the time. There will always be a way to get out of a jam, or to get something done. The level-headed will always be more likely to find it. So learn the difference between being passionate about something, and being emotional.
Remember that you carry our last name with you wherever you go. Your mother and I have worked hard to earn a good reputation, so don't screw it up. I'm not saying that you shouldn't have fun, because you should. But always conduct yourself as if you are being watched at all times (knowing your mother like I do, you probably are).
And finally, know that some people will let you down from time to time. Everyone makes mistakes, even those that you put on a pedestal. Hold them accountable, but try not to judge them too harshly.
I wish I could promise you that your teenage years will be all butterflies and hearts, but I can't. Here's a few things that I can promise you, though.
I promise that your mother and I will always have high expecations for you, butt into your business, read your text messages, and just overall get on your very last nerve from time to time. I promise you that we aren't just being mean or nosey. From the first day that your mom knew you existed, every single decision that we've made has been to help you succeed in life. Every single one. No matter what, that won't change.
And finally, I promise that you will get a job as soon as it's legal for you to work. Someone has to pay for all these birthday parties.
And now my holiday begins...
Shhshsh. Do y'all hear that? That, my friends, is the sound of piece and quiet. The holidays are finally over, and my kids are mercively on their way back to school. I swear, I don't see how you home-school parents do it.
Look, save the hate mail and phone calls. Nobody is saying that I don't love my kids. It's just that, well, I love them even more when they are in school.
Now that I'm pretty much only working one job, I've got a lot of free time on my hands. My schedule now is seven on, seven off. And I love my seven off. When I tell people my schedule, they usually say "Wow, it's like having having a vacation every other week." And that's true, that's about how I feel about it, also.
But you know what ruins vacations more than anything? Kids.
Usually on my days off I'll sleep til about 7 or 7:30 a.m., get up and eat a little breakfast, then if I have any errands to run I run them. If not, I sit and watch a little t.v. The bottom line is this- when I'm off, I usually do what I want to do, when I want to do it. During the holidays, however, all that goes to Hell.
When they are home I have to worry about what they are going to eat. There are empty soda cans on the counter, the trash is always full, and someone will without a doubt leave their plate on the table for me to pick up.
If I try to go watch a little t.v., I have to wrestle the remote away from some little person that is watching Drake and Josh, or Phineas and Ferb, or some other silly little show like that.
And if I do manage to steal the remote, I've got about 30 minutes before my son starts yelling at me. "Hey Dad, what are we gonna do today? Let's go do something, Dad. What can we go do? Let's go do something."
The only time I really have to myself is if I happen to wake up really early, because they usually stay up late. Too late.
I, like any other red-blooded American male, enjoy a good old fashioned Rated-R show every now and then. Nothing too bad, get your mind out of the gutter. I'm talking about movies that use cuss words, like regular people. And ones with a lot of blood. And, if there is a sex scene or two, well, that's just the price you have to pay to watch. Who am I to complain? Because I married who I did, the only time I get to watch good movies like that is at night, when everyone else is asleep.
But not over the holidays when the kids are awake. Hell, when they are in the room I can't even watch re-runs of Two and a Half Men. You ever tried to watch a good action movie with all the blood and guts and cussing taken out? It sucks. Someone with a bazooka blowing things up should never utter the phrase, "Ah, shucks!"
But all that is over now. My wife is back to work, my kids are back in school, and it's just me and the dog here in charge of the remote. And now, if you will excuse me, I believe Pulp Fiction is on the tube.
Shhshsh. Do y'all hear that? That, my friends, is the sound of piece and quiet. The holidays are finally over, and my kids are mercively on their way back to school. I swear, I don't see how you home-school parents do it.
Look, save the hate mail and phone calls. Nobody is saying that I don't love my kids. It's just that, well, I love them even more when they are in school.
Now that I'm pretty much only working one job, I've got a lot of free time on my hands. My schedule now is seven on, seven off. And I love my seven off. When I tell people my schedule, they usually say "Wow, it's like having having a vacation every other week." And that's true, that's about how I feel about it, also.
But you know what ruins vacations more than anything? Kids.
Usually on my days off I'll sleep til about 7 or 7:30 a.m., get up and eat a little breakfast, then if I have any errands to run I run them. If not, I sit and watch a little t.v. The bottom line is this- when I'm off, I usually do what I want to do, when I want to do it. During the holidays, however, all that goes to Hell.
When they are home I have to worry about what they are going to eat. There are empty soda cans on the counter, the trash is always full, and someone will without a doubt leave their plate on the table for me to pick up.
If I try to go watch a little t.v., I have to wrestle the remote away from some little person that is watching Drake and Josh, or Phineas and Ferb, or some other silly little show like that.
And if I do manage to steal the remote, I've got about 30 minutes before my son starts yelling at me. "Hey Dad, what are we gonna do today? Let's go do something, Dad. What can we go do? Let's go do something."
The only time I really have to myself is if I happen to wake up really early, because they usually stay up late. Too late.
I, like any other red-blooded American male, enjoy a good old fashioned Rated-R show every now and then. Nothing too bad, get your mind out of the gutter. I'm talking about movies that use cuss words, like regular people. And ones with a lot of blood. And, if there is a sex scene or two, well, that's just the price you have to pay to watch. Who am I to complain? Because I married who I did, the only time I get to watch good movies like that is at night, when everyone else is asleep.
But not over the holidays when the kids are awake. Hell, when they are in the room I can't even watch re-runs of Two and a Half Men. You ever tried to watch a good action movie with all the blood and guts and cussing taken out? It sucks. Someone with a bazooka blowing things up should never utter the phrase, "Ah, shucks!"
But all that is over now. My wife is back to work, my kids are back in school, and it's just me and the dog here in charge of the remote. And now, if you will excuse me, I believe Pulp Fiction is on the tube.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
On the run
About a month ago I stepped on a scale at work. It read 242 pounds, the heaviest I've ever been, by about a ton.
"I've got to do something," I told myself. Besides being my heaviest, I've never felt so bad physically. I'm supposed to take one Prevacid pill per day for my acid reflux. I was up to two pills a day, and a roll of Tums. And still waking up in the middle of the night a few times a week throwing up whatever I ate for dinner.
Add to all this the fact that over the last three months both my mother and father died in their 60's, and it was enough to wake me up- I needed to get myself in better shape, fast. I needed to start exercising more. Hell, I needed to start exercising, period. I needed to set some kind of goals for myself.
Now, I can't stand running, I'd rather ride a bike because when I run I get shin splints from Hell. The problem is, every time I buy a bicycle some little baggy-pants thug in the area steals it. So I made my mind up to run in the 5K at the Bremond Polish Pickle Days in June.
This isn't the first time that I've set this particular goal for myself. A few years ago, a lady I worked with at the newspaper and I agreed to participate in this 5K. I can't remember what happened to derail the plan. I think she somehow hurt her leg, or ankle, or knee. And I got switched to a different shift at my main job, so I couldn't get myself ready to run 3.1 miles. To tell you the truth, my heart probably wasn't all the way in it, either.
This time has to different, for my health's sake if nothing else. I needed to recruit someone that could be tough on me and keep me committed. On days when I don't feel like running- and rest assured, there will be many- this person has to be able to push me and make me go. They have to be persistent, relentless; maybe even get on my nerves a little. I had the perfect person in mind.
I came straight home and told my son about the run. You tell this kid that you're going to take him fishing in two weeks, and he'll remind you once an hour until his hook is in the water. I asked him if he thought he could run 3.1 miles with me.
"Pshh, yeah," he said, way too confidently for my taste. The truth is, while he probably can't run three miles right now, he'll get there way before I will.
Because make no mistake about it- I'm starting from scratch. Somehow, I've got to get myself able to run 3.1 miles in six month's time when I can't run the .1 right now. I've made smaller goals to get me there. By mid February I want to be able to run a mile, by mid April two miles, and mid June three miles.
To help myself out, I've started eating healthier too. When I say healthier, what I mean is the POWs here at Camp Hearne probably ate more than I've eaten lately.
Other than Christmas Eve and Christmas day (after all, I am human) I've had nothing but chicken and salad and salad and chicken. I've had grilled chicken, baked chicken, broiled chicken, grilled chicken salads, crispy chicken salads, and mushy chicken salad sandwhiches. I haven't had a good greasy burger, or a nice crispy pound of bacon in over a month. But as bad as that's been, I have to admit that I've had only six heartburn pills and zero Tums in a month.
The sad part? I'm still not sure if it's a good trade-off or not..
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
It’s Christmas rhyme
‘Twas a couple of weeks before Christmas
and yes, holding true to form
I haven’t done a bit of shopping.
Don’t be surprised, it’s the norm.
Christmas after Christmas, year after year,
it always comes down to time.
Everyone else is done with their shopping
and I’m just getting started with mine.
My wife wants jewelry, my son wants guns,
one daughter wants make-up and cash.
My youngest daughter wants margarita mix,
WTH? I tore up her list up in a flash.
My dog Chuy wants more bones
and a warm blanket, that’s for sure.
And he’d never say it, but I know the truth,
he wants it made out of cat fur.
Every year our list of names change
of people that we give presents to.
We have a rule- once you have kids,
Christmas is no longer about you.
We have our kids, a couple of nieces,
and maybe a nephew or two.
If you aren’t on that list, I’ve got bad news,
Christmas is going to be blue for you.
I’ve always wanted to send Christmas cards
but for some reason they never get sent.
We get a few from folks in the mail every year
and love learning how someone’s year went.
What do I want, you ask? How nice of you.
I want what everyone else does, you know.
Peace on Earth, good will towards men,
then sit and watch my loving family grow.
Bah-ha-ha, I was just joking.
Get out your notebooks and pens.
I want clothes, cash, tools, headphones,
and something to help me lose my two chins.
Or you can all come together and donate
to my iPad 2 fund that I’ve started of late.
I’m saving the money that I win from poker,
But the way it’s going, I’ll get the iPad 8.
Have a Merry Christmas, everybody. Thank you so much for reading.
‘Twas a couple of weeks before Christmas
and yes, holding true to form
I haven’t done a bit of shopping.
Don’t be surprised, it’s the norm.
Christmas after Christmas, year after year,
it always comes down to time.
Everyone else is done with their shopping
and I’m just getting started with mine.
My wife wants jewelry, my son wants guns,
one daughter wants make-up and cash.
My youngest daughter wants margarita mix,
WTH? I tore up her list up in a flash.
My dog Chuy wants more bones
and a warm blanket, that’s for sure.
And he’d never say it, but I know the truth,
he wants it made out of cat fur.
Every year our list of names change
of people that we give presents to.
We have a rule- once you have kids,
Christmas is no longer about you.
We have our kids, a couple of nieces,
and maybe a nephew or two.
If you aren’t on that list, I’ve got bad news,
Christmas is going to be blue for you.
I’ve always wanted to send Christmas cards
but for some reason they never get sent.
We get a few from folks in the mail every year
and love learning how someone’s year went.
What do I want, you ask? How nice of you.
I want what everyone else does, you know.
Peace on Earth, good will towards men,
then sit and watch my loving family grow.
Bah-ha-ha, I was just joking.
Get out your notebooks and pens.
I want clothes, cash, tools, headphones,
and something to help me lose my two chins.
Or you can all come together and donate
to my iPad 2 fund that I’ve started of late.
I’m saving the money that I win from poker,
But the way it’s going, I’ll get the iPad 8.
Have a Merry Christmas, everybody. Thank you so much for reading.
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