Day 121: "Fine... TAKE IT!"

You know what?  I'm over it.  Take it.  Take it all.  Take my pledge of allegiance.  Take my public prayer.  Take the symbols of my faith.  Take my Constitution. Take all the things that are an expression of my beliefs and convictions and just get rid of them.  Put them in your burn barrel, I don't care any more.  I'm sick and fricking tired of you overly sensitive people that are on a campaign to remove what you deem "offensive", all in the name of serving our community. Take it.  Because the one true thing of value.  The one thing you can't legislate or control is my soul.

You're on a quest to create a better citizen.  One that fits a particular image you find acceptable.  Anything outside of that is deemed offensive and must be removed in order to create a better society of mindless individuals who no longer possess the uniqueness that makes them special.  You see uniqueness as the embodiment of evil.  You're obsessed with dumbing down our schools to make things "fair".  You insist on removing our religious icons and government emblems because they represent an unwanted influence.  A man is ordered to change his license plate, after having it for over seven years, because someone found it offensive.  A father sues the school district because his kid was expelled for cheating.  People living on welfare for years, sustaining their indulgences and never once being held accountable to make a real living because, hey, their hardships aren't their fault.  Whatever.  Here's to your perfect society. 

You're obsessed with taking away my choices.  What I wear, what I eat, what I say.  How I think.  But the funny thing is you can't take me, my essence, my spirit.  And that's what's killing you.  Isn't that right Mr. Potter?  My soul is like the Bailey Building and Loan that you so want to destroy but you can't.  You try to legislate my life in hopes of controlling my will but you sit frustrated and angry because you constantly fail.  Hey, don't stop.  Keep doing what you're doing.  I enjoy a good laugh.  It's not often one gets to sit back and watch someone screw themselves with such vigor.  Go on, take it all.  Because you know the more you try to take, the less you actually have.  The cup that holds my spirit remains full while your need to control continues to slip through your fingers.  I can stand naked before you, with no possessions to speak of, and I will still be richer than you.  I will drown you with my faith.  I will drown you with my spirit.  And all the while my cup remains full.

The conventional description of  hell is one of fire and brimstone and eternal pain.  Hell is actually living an empty, meaningless, bitter life and not knowing it.  Good luck with that.

Day 120: I swear, it wasn't all just me...

The recycle bin.  Where bottles once full go to die.  When my recycle bin looks like this, I have to put it out on the curb late at night so no one sees.  I can only imagine what the neighbors must think.  I almost feel like I have to explain myself but there's no good way to spin this.  I swear, I didn't consume all this by myself although I did have my fair share.  Oh well, I'll make my walk of shame to the curb tonight.  "Drunk man walking!"

Day 119: "You carry your own water..."

Those that know me know I'm a total movie freak.  I watch movies the way some folks listen to their favorite music - over and over and over.  I'm more than prone to recite movie dialogue, much to the aggravation of those around me.  It's amazing to me how lines in a movie can have such profound meaning.  

This particular one is in my top 10.  It's from the movie "Mulholland Falls", starring Nick Nolte and a once VERY curvy Jennifer Connelly (damn this obsession with being skinny).  Any way, long story short, in a scene where Nolte's character is being pressed to talk about his problems, Nolte says, "You carry your own water."  I love that line!  I suspect one can interpret it in different ways but I saw it as a personal challenge.  A challenge to take responsibility for my actions, thoughts, and feelings and make them mine, no one else.  Now I'm not saying we need to bottle up our emotions or avoid sharing the challenges we face.  On the contrary, I think it's healthy and necessary to be able to talk about the issues in our lives.  The key here is not surrendering ownership.  "What should I do?"  That's an invitation, a plea, to have someone come in and make a decision for you.  And once they've told you what to do, you no longer have responsibility for the outcome of that action.  When it doesn't work out, you put the blame on them since, in your mind, it wasn't your choice but someone else.

I have several close friends and family members that I confide in and truly value their opinions.  I hope you do as well.  My suggestion is to avoid the "what should I do?" question and ask "what do you think?"  The whole point of these conversations is to express your feelings and ideas and gather insight from others in order to help you make the best decision possible. Knowing that you've made that decision, that you've set the path you're on, you can take gratification that you are in charge of your life. Ultimately that's what we all want, to be able to set our own destiny.

So carry your own water.  But don't be shy about seeking help when you need it. 

Photo note - Ok, Sophie didn't carry her own water but she did carry her leash and a rock, for balance.  She really does like her backpack. 

Day 118: Damn, they found me...

Boy, you turn 50 and everyone wants a piece of you.  And not in a good way.  Not only is AARP sending me weekly ads to sign up for the geriatric discount but now they're calling the house.  Do they have some hi-tech surveillance system that locates and tracks the elderly?  And of course once they have you in their sights they're locked on target.  "Roger, we have tone.  New bogie, Westminster Colorado sector.  Engage all ads and brochures.  FIRE!!  Yeah, splash one White Top!" 

Talk to me, Goose!

Day 117: Morning panos...

A bit under the weather today.  Hopefully the pics speak for themselves.  See you tomorrow!

Day 116: "Roll with the changes..."

"So, if you're tired of the same old story, oh, baby, turn some pages
I will be here when you are ready to roll with the changes, baby
Roll with the changes..."

REO Speedwagon

So what's your inspirational song?  You know, the one that has a line or two of lyrics that inspire you to move beyond your current, crappy situation.  I've got quite a few songs that fit that bill for me.  This particular one helped me through a REALLY crappy relationship early in my college days.  You know, when you're in those bad situations and everything seems to be caving in on you.  No matter what pep talk I got from friends or family, I just couldn't seem to pull myself out of that cesspool that was my life at the time.  But along comes a song that for some reason just clicks.  It was a little nugget of advice I was desperately looking for.  It's was that catalyst I needed to make that change, to "turn the pages", to put my life back on track.  I had rediscovered my self-esteem and inner strength.  

I'm sure you all have something similar.  And you know, you don't have to wait for life to turn on you.  Fire up that song now and then.  Give yourself that gentle reminder how great you are!  Don't wait around for someone to affirm you.  Just look in the mirror and say "Yeah, I'm good."

Day 115: Hoping for rain...

Silly as it may be but one of the biggest draws for me to move to Colorado was the fact it actually rains.  And not just any old rain.  I'm talkin' full on, thunder clapping, exploding lightning down pours.  Living in So Cal for 20 years I can probably count on one hand the number of times I actually experienced a thunderstorm.  There was that one year, El Nino, where we had a couple wicked downpours but that was pretty much it.  Stupid, dry sunshine.  Hot all day, hot all night.  ARGHHHHH!

I've always loved rain.  In moderation, of course.  Summer time is the absolute best.  Hot all day long.  Then in the late afternoon big, black clouds would come lumbering out of nowhere and within seconds it's Armageddon!  I can remember as a kid thunderstorms use to scare the crap out of me but there was also something really exciting about them.  Playing at the community pool, the first crack of lightning and the lifeguard would yell at us to get out of the pool.  We'd try to sneak in one more dive from the high dive before we turned into a human lightning rod.  Like we were cheating death or something. 

Our first summer in Colorado we were treated to a light show fantastic nearly every afternoon.  It was awesome how the sky would just explode!  Of course our little dogs (this was pre-Sophie) would absolutely freak out.  It's about the only time little Roscoe would hang out with me.  That first lightning bolt and both dogs would scurry under my desk.  Well, it must have been a realtor's ploy because the following two summers you'd think I was back in the OC.  Nary a drop of rain even though ominous clouds would appear every afternoon.  Today's been no different.  No rain in the forecast but looking at the sky one would HAVE to believe the weatherman was wrong, at least this time. 
 

Guess if I'm gonna want some rain I better channel my 1/32nd Native American in me and learn how to dance that rain dance.  Hey, if you've ever seen me play Connectix you KNOW I've got me some mean dancin' skills!  

Day 114: You've GOT to be kidding me...

Really?!  I'm suppose to drink what?....

I stopped by Kaiser this afternoon to pick up some prescriptions and realized I'm suppose to pick up this colonoscopy starter kit for my "procedure" a week from this Friday.  Ok, how bad can that be?  Well, at the sight of "Big Gulp" my sense of dread was soon elevated.  Don't know what's worse.... having to take all these meds that'll make my ass explode like Mount Vesuvius, or the fact I have to "drastically" alter my diet one week leading up to this blissful experience.  Interesting, too, to find that I'm suppose to be out during this procedure.  Wow, my first ever "date rape".  Golly, can't wait.  I swear, if I wake up in a dress and lipstick there will be hell to pay.  Not about to let that happen again.

"I'd like to say Andy put up the good fight...."

Day 113: Long run...

As you know I'm training for the Colfax Half Marathon next month and today was my long run training day.  A long run is a relative term.  For some it's any where from three to five miles.  For others it could be 20 - 30 miles.  For me my long run was 12 miles.  It was actually a "time trial" of sorts.  My goal today was to run at my planned race pace and try to sustain that pace throughout the run.  Even with a few challenges here and there I was actually pretty pleased how it all worked out.

The run started off well enough. Got right into my pace pretty quickly, in cruise mode within the first mile.  Sometimes you can run miles trying to find that perfect comfort zone, or as I like to say "being comfortably uncomfortable".  Hell, I've had plenty of runs where that comfort zone never materialized and I had to struggle through every mile until I finished.  But this morning was perfect.  A nice nip in the air and no breeze.  Neither the prairie dogs nor bugs had woken up yet so no distractions.  Very few runners so the trail was essentially mine.  Just the way I like it, Mr. Solitary Man.

A little something about "runner's high".  I'm sure many of you have heard of it and some of you may have actually experienced it.  There have been a lot of explanations but the simplest way I can describe it is "balance".  Some folks hear "runner's high" and they think runners attain some euphoric state of being where you're running on clouds, surrounded by unicorns sprinkled in glitter.  Trust me, the pains and discomforts you attribute to running are still there but their voices are quite muted.  I'm very much aware that my left hamstring is twisted up in a nice boyscout knot and my right knee is ready to buckle at any moment.  But there's a strength in me, a lightness in my step, a rhythm between my breathing, my pace, the sounds I hear around me and in my head, all combined to put me in a cruise mode that literally feels like it could last forever.  It's like attaining perfection, a balance between all things of and around you.   Once you attain that, it truly becomes your drug of choice, especially among runners.  That's why we're always out there, pounding that pavement.  Just gettin' our fix!

But as with all good things, this too must come to an end.  I was probably about 2/3 into my run when I could feel that "runner's high" start to dissipate, and it sure didn't take long to completely disappear.  Now the voices of my once silent hamstring and knee started to speak up.  I was wearing an inexpensive heart rate monitor and could see that my heart rate was increasing while trying to stay on pace.  At this point the mental game comes into play.  You focus on your form.  You identify the areas that hurt the most and work to reduce as much of the pain as possible by trying to relax your body, maintaining good posture and in my case try to find ways to keep up the pace while avoiding blowing out my knee or ripping up my hamstring.  For me that's where anger, and eventually rage, becomes my energy drink. 

I know I speak a lot about love, compassion, etc.  But when it comes to my running or anything competitive, I pretty much turn to my dark side to get me through the rough stuff.  A healthy dose of self-loathing does wonders.  Telling myself, "You have no right to quit, you worthless piece of shit!  There are other folks out here doing more than you and not whining nearly as much!  Don't be such a frickin' pussy!"  The tirades will go on for quite a while and usually with a lot more venom than what I'm sharing right now.  So, forgetting the fact that my hamstring feels like Eddie Van Halen is ripping through "Eruption" on it and I've got gnats swarming around my face like teenage groupies, I plod along as best I can, counting off the mile markers and even managed to catch my first ponytail in years. 

I ended up with a relatively respectable time.  I know that injuries, age and lack of disciplined training over the last few years have slowed my times but I generally felt good about this one.  My goal for the Colfax Half is to finish somewhere around 2 hours.  I figure if I can nurse this hamstring back to health while still maintaining my training regimen I should do pretty well.  Hell, I better.  My 5 foot something trainer will probably kick my ass otherwise...

Day 112: Blahhhh

Ever have one of those days where you know it's just not happening.  Everything just seems out of sync.  You're just not hitting on all cylinders.  Heck, you're not hitting on any cylinders.  Nothing sounds appealing.  Your favorite activities are a bore.  You're hungry but nothing sounds good, not even your favorite foods.  Whether you're doing something or nothing, it all just sucks. 

For the first time in a long time I actually slept in.  Normally for most folks that would be considered a blessing.  But I'm one of those clowns where 5:30 is considered sleeping in.  Even when I woke up this morning just before 7:00, I was still tired but was actually uncomfortable lying in bed.  This should have been my first indication that things were not right.  So I got up and started coffee.  Who knew that would be the highlight of my day.  From that point on it was all pretty much down hill.

To be fair it hasn't been a particularly bad day.  No one sick, injured or dead.  I still have a job and there are a few bucks in my checking account.  Just not the kind of day I expected.  If it was intended to be a lazy day, which is typically Sunday for me, then everything would be ok.  But this is Saturday and there should be things to do.  Back in the day I would've been swimming, riding and biking all over town.  Nowadays I might still get in a run but would most likely be doing yard work or running errands with Julie.  But not today.  I had no energy for anything athletic and very little motivation or attention span to put any thought into running errands or working on stuff around the house.  I knew I felt pretty tired but thought I could fight through it.  Julie is quick to spot when I'm tired and has learned in our relationship if I don't get rest soon I turn into "Mr. Cranky Pants".  (I'm named after my father).  Hell even I don't want to be around me.  God love her, she knows me well enough that she'll insist I go upstairs and just relax for a while.  I took her advice, went up stairs to our room, fired up my Kindle Fire, loaded up Netflix and proceeded to fall asleep to one of my favorite movies (Excalibur - damn, Helen Mirren is smokin' hot!).

Well, the nap helped.  It recharged my batteries just enough so I could take my girl, Sophie, to the Westminster Valley dog park to walk around and snap a few pictures.  I got home, loaded up my pics into Lightroom and managed to find a couple that weren't outrageously horrible.  I've got a cold Spaten in hand so I guess it all turned out kinda ok.  I know tomorrow is a new day.  Most likely won't be my typical lazy day.  I still need to get in a long run in preparation for the Colfax Half.  But after the run I think I'll just try to relax with my honey (Julie, not Sophie) and enjoy some peace and quiet before crawling back into the salt mines on Monday. 

Happy Weekend, my friends!

Day 111: 420

Well, this could be one of those posts where I lose a few followers.  And a few followers is all I have...

So today is April 20th, or 4/20.  In Boulder, Colorado and a few other places across the country it's "420" which urban legend, wrongly, describes it as police code for marijuana.  Go ahead and Google it and you'll find a number of origins for the term but suffice to say it's currently recognized as a day to celebrate marijuana, weed, pot, maryjane, wacky weed, etc. 

I was hoping to head into Boulder today to take some pictures of sketchy looking Bob Marley wannabes but that never panned out.  I understand "the man" is cracking down this year so the cops and school officials are putting the kibosh on this smoke-fest.  Oh well, perhaps I'll just have to make another trip to Amsterdam.

I guess I just don't get what all the hubbub is about.  What's the stigma around pot?  You know what?  Pot is like that slutty girl you knew in high school and the only reason you knew she was a slut was because someone who knew someone who knew someone said she puts out.  Of course the only reason she got that reputation is because she wouldn't put out for her would-be boyfriend so he took it upon himself to tell the world she's a sexual freak.  Back in the day, pot was linked to Hispanics and blacks during a time when a very white nation was doing all it could to stem their expansion in white heavy communities so why not put the blame of our woes on pot and the people that use it.  Today the government still considers pot a "gateway drug", meaning, anyone that tries pot is very likely to move on to other harmful narcotics such as coke, meth, heroine or dark chocolate.  I've tried pot on several occasions and not once has it ever occurred to me that I should delve into coke, meth or whatever.  Honestly, pot just reaffirmed my desire for drinking more beer and wine.  It's just not for me but hey, to each his own. Pick your poison. 

So here's my take, and many of you have probably already heard this from me.  We've got alcohol, tobacco and hemp.  Two of the three are legal and are legislated out the ass.  The third carries the stigma of being the devil's veggie.  Have you ever seen the movie "Reefer Madness"?  It was made back in the 30's and the portrayal of pot smokers would be considered comical if it wasn't so tragic how it helped to create an image of pot smokers that is grotesquely inaccurate.  Apparently women who smoke pot become promiscuous (huh, I wish).  Men who smoke it become violent sociopaths.  I don't know about you but every person I've ever met that smokes pot is about as easy going as they come.  They're more likely to steal your last slice of pizza than raise a hostile finger.  If pot is illegal, then so is the use of tobacco and alcohol.  You just can't convince me that pot is so much worse than the other two.  Scientist have proven that cigs and booze are addictive and screw up your body in all kinds of wonderfully harmful and painful ways.  Not nearly as much can be said about pot.  I'm sure there are some negative side affects but none that are any more horrible than what 50 years of smoking or drinking can do to you.

Look, don't get me wrong, I can't stand stoners any more than I can stand drunks or folks that belch out nasty cigarette smoke in confined places.  They can all be disgusting in their own way.  But conversely,  I love having a few drinks with friends and many folks who I love and admire dearly are smokers.  It is what it is.  I don't judge and I hope they don't judge me. 

But it kills me that even though hemp has been proven to be a highly durable, cost-effective substance, more environmentally friendly then anything we have on the market today, it's considered illegal in this great nation or ours.  Our founding fathers grew the stuff, for crying out loud.  Hell, our founding fathers also made their own hooch.  So why the heavy?  We waste so much money on law enforcement, court actions and incarceration costs on people that grow or use pot when we should really be going after the criminals that hide out on Capital Hill. 

Look, I'm not a "told you so" kinda guy.  Just accept the fact that pot is just another adult stimulant that if properly regulated and taxed could be another source of revenue that the one tenth of one percent of our population could exploit to make themselves richer and the rest of us that much more resentful.  So come on, blaze one up for freedom!  

PS - And just so you know, I wrote this while nursing a nice glass of wine (actually two glasses).

Day 110: The End...

No don't worry, I'm not closing out my blog.  I know, I have SOOOOO many fans that I might cause a mass suicide if I were to shut this down.  It's ok, kids, I'm still here.

Nope, just gonna comment on the fact I just finished the third book in an amazing trilogy.  I'm sure most of you have heard of the book, now movie, "The Hunger Games".  There is also "Catching Fire" and "Mockingjay".  Now I'll say right here and now I'm NOT taking any shit from any of you the way I did over the Twilight series.  No need for explanations, no arguments.  Let's just say we shall not speak of that again.

But "The Hunger Games", if you haven't read it, do so.  The movie is very good, too, but not 100% on par with the book.  Yeah, there are some moody, love struck teenagers but there's also plenty of blood, guts and warrior gore that it should draw a decent male following. 

I finished the third book on my way home today from Boston and right now I'm in the throws of post-book depression.  Don't you hate it when you're reading a really excellent book, so captivating that you can't put it down, that you start to realize you're coming to the end and you're SOOOOO wishing the story would go on?  Now we've all labored through those other books, where the plot line takes forever to evolve and when it finally climaxes you're like "that's it?"  Come on, women, you know what I'm talking about!  ;-)  I can just hear the author say, "so, was it good for you too?"  Oh yeah, baby!  (Extreme eye roll....)  You find yourself quickly picking up a trash magazine or owners manual to the microwave or anything, something, just to get a sense of gratification.  But the "Hunger Games" books were very entertaining and certainly paid off with a big finish.  And we ALL love a big finish.  Wink!

So now I'm in search of another good book.  What to read, what to read???

Day 109: Dunkin' Donuts



You’re probably wondering how Dunkin’ Donuts warrants such special treatment to get a dedicated blog post. Well, you’re just about to find out…

I know Dunkin’ Donuts has been around for years. Unfortunately I have to admit I classified them as a low budget, poor quality food chain that only earth’s downtrodden would venture into. Not sure where that perception came from. Suspect it must have come from way back when I was a kid and being handed one of their glazed donuts and being repulsed because it didn’t taste like my favorite chocolate old fashion that my mom use to pick up at the local bakery in Daly City, California. So forever in my mind they were that “nasty donut shop”. Moving to Orange County, California and drinking the kool-aid of the entitled, I felt that any and all things from the OC were far superior to anything else in the world, save German beer. So the thought of me ever wandering into a Dunkin’ Donuts shop was incomprehensible.

So how did I come to know and love Dunkin’ Donuts? Simple - pure necessity. I was on a business trip to Boston, which I believe is ground zero for Dunkin’ Donuts. I was desperate for coffee and there was no Starbucks or any other foo foo coffee shop in my vicinity. Keep in mind, me not having coffee first thing in the morning is like ignoring the alarms going off in a nuclear reactor. Mass destruction will ensue unless something is done, QUICK! The only option available to me at the time, with the exception of going insane, was to venture into that Dunkin’ Donuts on the street corner.

Being good at assimilation, I quickly fell in line with the rest of the Bostonians, avoiding eye contact while quickly scanning the menu blazoned above the counter. A cornucopia of colorful donuts were neatly stacked along the wall behind a server who would just as soon bitch slap me into next week as he would serve me coffee and donuts. Ok, the line is moving fast, folks are barking out their orders and exchanging money with a fury only seen by Wall Street stock traders. “All right, man, don’t screw this up! Be ready” I tell myself. My time comes and I stammer a bit but manage to mumble out “coffee and chocolate glazed donut, please”. “Cream n sugar?!” What!? A question? Shit, I wasn’t ready for that. “Ah buh, yeah, yes, please….” What the hell am I saying? They’re going to put cream and sugar in MY coffee!? NO ONE puts cream and sugar in my coffee except ME! Gee, pal, while you’re at it why don’t you give me a rectal exam, I mean as long as you’re going to violate my personal space! Of course I didn’t actually say that to him. My stupidity only goes so far.

Everything was a blur at that point. I barely recall handing over my money. Hell, I could’ve easily paid them $40 and I wouldn’t have known. Within seconds my order is on the counter and just like that I’m alone, forgotten, adrift in a daze as the voices of customers and servers garble together into words I barely understand. What has happened to me? I stand holding a tiny bag with my donut and a cup of coffee ready for consumption but not having my personal touch to ensure its perfection. I slowly make my way out to my car while people move in and out of the shop like ants. I sit down, placing the cup in the cup holder. I surrender myself to the fact this will be the worst coffee I ever had and proceed to “take it like a man”.

What happened next can only be described as liquid heaven. With the passion of a child, I suckled the sweet nectar of a thousand Columbian coffee beans that were especially grown and brewed just for me, with a mixture of cream and sugar that I could never replicate. This burly man behind the counter knew me better than I knew myself. All things were right and perfect in my world, if just for that singular moment. I knew right then and there I had found a home, a haven, a safe place where I could get coffee that would fill and sustain me throughout my journeys. I knew from then on, life would always be good.

“Hey, asshole! Move yer fuckin’ cah!!!” Ahhhhh, Boston!

Day 108: Wilderness

I love my Colorado.  The mountains are beyond compare.  Ok, the German/Austrian Alps are pretty awesome, but living in Colorado, not far from Boulder, I love being so close to nature.  But there is something very alluring about the landscape around Boston.  There are more forests than towns.  Virginia is pretty similar but today I'm talking about New England.  Today I had to go from one company facility to another and was told to avoid the highway, given the rush hour traffic.  I took surface streets and was amazed to see so much natural landscape.  So rustic and beautiful.  It's almost as if a company of Red Coats or Militia will come popping out from behind a natural rock wall.  I've been so tempted to just start wandering through the woods, walking among the ghosts of history past.  Of course it also looks like the kind of place a serial killer will bury his victims.  Sorry, didn't been to put a harsh on your buzz but it did cross my mind.  Probably a good idea I just get back in my car....

Day 107: McFatty

Like many of you I've grown up on McDonalds. The joy that comes from an order of fries cannot be put into words. It's marked the times, at least in my life. As a little kid living in Hawaii, bursting with excitement when my folks would say, "We're going to McDonald's!" There was the college years when I lived off of quarter pounds with cheese, large fries and a chocolate shake. I was introduced to my first chicken nuggets when stationed in Germany. "Ich mochte nuen stuk McNugget, bitte". But we all know the shine is off the famous golden arches these days.

When the big health craze hit the nation, McDonald's was right in the crosshairs. The documentary "Super Size Me" exposed the fatty underbelly of a maniacal secret society bent on lulling the masses into a carbo loaded, preservative induced stupor. But after all the scandal and bad press, one would have thought that the council of evil would have seen the error of their ways and embraced a kinder, slimmer agenda. Not so! This morning while waiting for my flight I decided to get a coffee and McMuffin to hold me over until I make my way to Boston. After placing my order, the teller of death informs me that if I add an order of hash browns my order would actually be CHEAPER! What the hell!? Gone are the days of appealing to our greed for more (ie Super Size). Now they attack us where it hurts, our wallets! The genius of their evil is beyond measure. In these hard economic times we have no defense against this attack to our midlines. Something must be done to stop the madness!

I might have a way to stop them. But first, let me finish my hash browns and I'll get back to you...

Day 106: Life in black and white...

Back in the day when I started out in photography I did all my photos in black and white.  Ok, wasn't really a choice considering back then it was all film and the cheapest and easiest route into photography was black and white.  Working in B&W was challenging enough, hoping you got your camera settings right, processing the film and developing the prints.  I can remember shooting several rolls of film only to come away with just a few decent prints all because I screwed up some part of the process along the way.  Oh well, you live and learn. 

Now that we're in the digital age we have all the color affects we could ever want without fear of the many additional unforgiving steps it takes to develop film and prints.  I forget sometimes that I've always been a bigger fan of B&W over color.  I loved all the old Life magazine photos, the drama they could capture whether it was a sporting event or a war time picture.  And let's not forget my absolute favorite B&W photo...... Rita Hayworth kneeling on a bed, looking just beyond the camera.  Ahhhhhh, back when women had curves!

So here are a few I shot today, along with my assistant, Sophie.  She kept an eye out for coyotes while I snapped away.  I made sure to pay her for her efforts - A trip to Starbucks, she loves those glazed donuts.  Don't worry, she only gets a couple nibbles.  Trust me, I'm not that generous.

Day 105: This too shall pass...

I envy those people that always seem to have such a balanced nature.  Nothing ever seems to get them riled up.  No matter what bad thing may befall them they just have that "oh well" attitude.  Like water off a ducks back or in this case a little waterfall along the Big Dry Creek trail.  I snapped this one during my run today (it gave me an excuse to try and stretch out my knotted up hamstring).

I'd like to think that I've gotten better with age, as far as letting things go.  I don't wake up in the middle of the night  from panic attacks like I use to.  And for the most part there's not a lot that gets to me.  But ask my daughter and she'll say I get pissy about the little things - other people's inability to drive, or the clown that uses a checkbook at the express checkout.  I think the key is putting the other person first.  Before I go off the handle about something someone may have done to me, try to imagine what may have motivated them to do it in the first place.   If I were a bettin' man I'd say that most of the time what ever wrong that was done to me wasn't motivated by me.  Trust me, there have been plenty of times that I've been a raging A-hole and the reason why had nothing to do with the person that had to face my wrath.

So just let it flow.  Whatever irritates you now will soon be long gone.  And remember, you'll be irritating someone as well and that too shall pass.

Day 104: Out and about...

 

This afternoon Julie and I were out scouting potential photo shoot locations.  Started in Louisville, then made our way up past Boulder, up to Nederland and then cruised along the Peak to Peak Highway.  Even though it was pretty cloudy it was still a great afternoon, spending time with my honey enjoying our shared passion for photography.  Oh, and Sophie came along as well. Can't leave my co-pilot behind...

Day 103: Coming home...

Being able to travel is one of the nice perks of my job.  I'm not one of those insane road warriors that's gone three weeks out of four but I usually have somewhere to go once or twice a month which is plenty for me.  I would definitely prefer personal travel over work but even on business trips I can still manage to fill in a little time that's enjoyable and makes the hardships of business travel a bit more bearable.  But I tell ya, after a busy week, there's nothing like the feeling of coming home! 

Going home!  Your work is finally done.  You're in your hotel room packing up your things and thoughts of your familiar surroundings and comforts of home start to creep into your mind.  It's one of those rare times when the anticipation of coming home (see yesterday's blog) is everything you had hoped for and more.  For me it's the warm embrace of my wife, the slobbery kisses from my dogs, the comfort of my recliner and the solitude of my "man cave" (pictured above).  It's that wonderful assurance and contentment you feel getting back INTO your comfort zone.  Your mind and body relax and all the pressure and stress of the past week seem to dissipate, if only for a little while. 

We all enjoy a good coming home.  Whether we're returning from somewhere or someone is returning back to us, it's all good!  It's fun to see the posts from friends on Facebook, sharing in their excitement of a loved one coming home.  A son or daughter returning home from college or a military deployment.  Mother and new baby returning home from the hospital.  Even family members coming back home for the holidays, which is usually followed a few days later by those family members happy to be going back to their own homes.  To this day I still carry the fond memories of my dad returning home from Vietnam and the excitement we ALL shared having the family back together, safe and sound. 

So here's to routines.  Here's to the familiar.  Here's to the "same o' same o'".  Welcome home!

Day 102: Anticipation

There's a reason I don't gamble. I suck at being able to correctly anticipate the outcome of an event. I mean SUCK on an epic scale. Like James Cameron's Titanic and Avatar combined production suckness. If I think something will go bad, it generally turns out ok. Conversely if I think something will go well, it fails miserably.
Now anticipation can be a good and necessary thing. It forces you to focus and prepare. But when anticipation morphs itself into expectation, you are SOOO setting yourself up for disappointment. For me I usually miss the point when one turns into the other and it's like getting hit with a sucker punch.
What I need to do is be more cognizant of anticipation and watch that I don't let emotions get the better part of me. I've got that new tattoo that should be a reminder that "faith" is what I should embrace. Faith that all things will work out. It's the best preparation one can make.

Day 101: Balance...

I suppose I can be pretty opinionated about a number of things but I think if there was one soap-box topic that gets me going like a Bible thumping Baptist it would be the disconnect between responsibility and authority. The reason I say “disconnect” is that responsibility and authority cannot stand alone. You can’t have one without the other. I think the fundamental problem in our relationships, our work and our great country is that we, collectively, have failed to connect the two.

It’s a very simple equation. If you’re given a responsibility then you are entitled to the authority to manage that responsibility. And authority includes the willingness to accept the results of actions taken. The balance between the two gets out of whack when you have more of one than the other. Responsibility without authority will fail just as easily as authority without responsibility. I think most of us suffer from the former. In our professional lives we get saddled with a lot of responsibility from our management but rarely given the resources to effectively get the job done. It’s a recipe for failure and our companies are full of Paula Deans

Nowadays people complain a lot about big government yet we’re the ones that created it by constantly looking for handouts. Remember, the implementation of responsibility and authority is a two way street. When we expect the federal government to bail us out of a problem, we assume authority to demand help from the feds thereby putting them in a position to accept responsibility to provide it. Conversely, since the government accepted the responsibility to provide us aid, they will then exercise their authority to manage how they provide that aid and legislate our behaviors.

From a national view, a prime example of the ramifications for not linking responsibility with authority together was our little adventure in Vietnam. The military was given the responsibility of removing the “red menace” infiltrating South Vietnam but was hamstrung by folks on Capital Hill and the White House by not giving them the authority to execute that war in such a way to assure victory. When it comes to the military, my personal opinion is that if the government fails to execute a political solution to an international problem, don’t deploy the military if you can’t stomach their methods. I feel our politicians have gotten lazy and are too quick to deploy the military instead of working a bit harder on a diplomatic solution. So if you politicians reserve the right to send in the troops, then back off and let them do their jobs.

But on a smaller scale, there are plenty of examples on how we fail to appropriately link responsibility and authority. Kids are given authority to make decisions but not held responsible for the outcomes. Smokers and obese people reserve the right to indulge in their vices but expect and get subsidized help when their health goes south. Some people choose not to work and are rewarded with government subsidies. Business executives can rape their company coffers and then “retire” with a severance package that could feed a third world country for 20 years. The number of examples is infinite.

The bottom line is that if we continue to disassociate responsibility from authority and vice versa, we’ll continue to breed a society of self-centered, self-serving, needy children who grow into self-centered, self-serving, needy adults.

Day 100: Choices...

Wow, can't believe I've made it to Day 100!  I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it this far.  How am I going to come up with photos or stories that are remotely interesting for 365 days?  Wait, crap!  This is a leap year.  Shit, I have to come up with 366!  Ugh.  Oh well, a friend of mine assured me it wouldn't be as difficult as I thought.  I will admit there have been a few days where I felt like I just "mailed it in" and certainly there were other days where I had something to say. Like a grueling marathon, there are more miles ahead.  Don't think of the miles you have to run, only the mile you're running now....

So for shits and giggles (love that phrase -  as if someone would giggle while they're taking a dump), I thought I would ask the question that begged to be asked - Team Gale or Team Peeta?  For those of you that don't recognize the names, those are the characters from the book/movie "Hunger Games".  The "team" reference is a take off from the Twilight series where girls expressed their longing for the lead characters by being a fan or team member for Edward or Jacob. 

The "Hunger Games" is another series of books, soon to be a movie series, that has two leading male roles and women are already swooning over them.  The initial results of my poll show a significant, hell, landslide lead for Gale.  He's the tall, brooding, good looking guy.  Then there's Peeta, the nice, easy going, supportive guy.  One represents excitement and fun, the other dependability and safety.  Now I've only read the first book and recently saw the movie so don't hold me to any personality changes that might come up in subsequent books.  But almost immediately I can see that it's all about the semi-bad boy versus Mr. nice guy.  And as we all know, good guys always fininsh last.  At least initially.

As much as you're tired of hearing me talk about age I think it plays a key part here.  When we're younger were more attracted/distracted by the shiny objects in life - the cool car, they hot busty girl, the rugged bad boy, those expensive gaudy shoes.  Julie and I have been together for eight years, married for almost seven.  She's made a point of telling me that if we had met five years prior she most DEFINILTEY would not have been attracted to me.  Life was all about trying to corral the exciting bad boy.  I would wager that nearly every woman that tried to do that failed miserably.  There's a reason why those guys are bad boys.  Now granted, life with the nice guy has some draw backs.   Dependable, stable, predictable = boring.  Yep, that's me in all my drab glory. 

I think as we get older the shiny objects tend to lose their luster.  There's no depth, no substance, no real value to any of those play things we coveted during our youth.  But it's during our youth that we should be enjoying all those things, mostly because we can.  I'm not saying folks need to settle down in their 20's.  Go out and sew those wild oats.  Have fun, be crazy.  But don't buy into the illusion that any of that really matters.  Even the best perfume dissaptes quickly. 

I say be aware of your choices and be ready for the repercussions.  Be aware that the bad boy will treat you like crap.  The cool car will break down.  The hot chick will get long in the tooth.  And those shoes that gave you bunions will go out of style.  What you think is so cool now will mean almost nothing to you years from now.  And some advice for the nice guys out there, be patient. The bad boys will flame out and the right woman will eventually see you for who you are.  I know I hit the lottery when it came to finding Julie.  Think of it as the lion following a herd of wildebeest.  Wait for one that drifts from the pack and POUNCE!  :-) 

Day 99: Much needed day...

Ever have one of those days where everything seemed to be so perfect?  And not just one or two things, but practically everything, from the moment you woke up until it was time for dinner and then off to bed.  Well, as I'm writing this dinner is yet to come but so far it's been a spectacular day. 

Julie and I got up well before the crack of dawn to go take pictures of the moon setting over the Rockies.  Even though it was pretty chilly and we weren't 100% sure where we should set up, we managed to find a nice little spot along the side of the road by Marshall Mesa park.  A gorgeous morning that saw the moon set atop of the Rockies to the West while at the same time the sun rose at our backs to the east.  We then treated ourselves to a nice breakfast at IHOP.  I can't begin to say how much I enjoyed that.  Something about IHOP and my childhood.  Oh, funny note.  While at breakfast we noticed an elderly couple coming in.  They moved rather slowly to their table but all the while still holding hands.  Julie kidded that that will be us some day.  I began to think "that's us NOW."  Here we are, "youngsters", sitting among several elderly couples.  Guess that's what happens when you turn 50. 

After breakfast we came home, cleaned up, and then immediately headed out to see a VERY early matinee.  How's 9:20 AM for a showing?  I have to admit I loved it!  Practically had the whole theater to ourselves.  After the movie we came back home.  Julie started working on the pictures she took and I decided to go for a run (prepping for a half marathon next month).  The rest of the afternoon is dedicated to lazy, a nice barbeque and then a couple of our favorite shows before we call it a day. 

It really was/is a perfect day.  Mainly because I got to spend most of it with my best friend.  We get so busy in our lives that it's easy to drift at times.  But it's days like today that reminds me how incredibly blessed I am to have such a beautiful and loving wife.  I can't imagine life any other way. 

Day 98: More Moons over Boulder...

Today's blog is going to be about photography so those less interested are free to check out.  See you tomorrow....

This morning was my second attempt to nail a good moon picture but more importantly I was hoping to get some good starry sky pictures.  Unfortunately neither quite worked out as planned.  Hey, we all have those days where no matter how well you plan, no matter what your best intentions might be, it just ain't gonna happen.  This morning was one of those times. 

So first up, the moon shot.  For my photo friends I'll cut to the chase - how to shoot.  I've learned when trying to capture a good photo of the moon, here are your recommended settings.  Adjust as needed.

ISO:  200
Shutter:  250
F-stop:  11
Auto-focus:  Off

Again, you'll want to adjust according to the conditions and equipment you have.  I shoot with a Canon 7D and these settings are a pretty good starting point for me.  Also, I REALLY recommend a good tripod and a trigger release (wired or otherwise).  Even though you're shooting with a relatively fast shutter you want to make sure you have a very steady camera.  Plus if you're taking these shots early in the morning most likely you'll be freezing your ass off and thus shaking the hell out of your camera. 


So here is an example of a shot I captured this morning.  You'll note that to get that clear, crisp shot of the moon, everything else in your picture will be damn near black.  If you try to expose for the foreground that beautiful moon will turn into a nice, white blob.  The trick to getting a well exposed moon and foreground is to take multiple exposures, one for each subject (moon and foreground) and stitch the two images together using Photoshop or any similar post-production tool. 

Now for those with a keen eye you'll probably notice the problem I had with taking this moon shot.  The moon isn't fully sharp.  This is more an issue of money versus technique.  I was using a very inexpensive 300mm zoom lens that basically sucks at taking tack sharp images.  It usually does well in well lit areas at a very fast shutter (800 or above).  The pros refer to a good lens as having "fast glass".  I won't go into the technical details but basically the better the glass, the better the picture.  When you look in a photo equipment catalog and see a 300mm lens going for $500 and another going for $5,000, now you'll know why.  It's not to say the cheaper lenses have no value.  You can still get some great images but eventually as you take your photography to new levels, you'll become more and more frustrated by the limitations and lack of quality that the cheaper lenses provide.  So when it comes to getting photo equipment, spend decent money on a camera body but put your good money towards a very nice lens.  If you're a Canon person look for the L series lenses and start drooling.

The other challenge I had this morning was trying to capture a good starry sky.  I did my research and found some good info on the proper settings and techniques.  There were several mine fields I encountered that I knew existed but thought I'd still give it a shot.  The best environment, in my mind, is somewhere isolated, up in the mountains or in the desert, where there's little to no stray light from towns, cars or other illuminated objects.  I was up on a hill overlooking Boulder, right next to Hwy 36 so there was plenty of stray light from the town and cars.  Also, the sun was starting to makes its way up the horizon behind me so I was definitely shooting against the elements.  As opposed to what I did, make sure you get an early start so you have plenty of time to set up and test your shots.  I only managed to get one decent shot that consisted of a few stars, I think Orion's Belt.  My Sky Walk iPhone app froze so it was of little use.  But I'll keep plugging away. 

The one good thing about the little adventure was that I was able to meet a couple of other fellow photog enthusiasts.  Ed, from San Francisco, was there trying to capture his first moon shoot.  We traded ideas and techniques and it looked like he got several good ones.  It's always fun to meet other photographers.  There's always something to learn and it's great meeting someone who shares the same passion as my wife and I do. 

Not quite a full moon scheduled for tomorrow but Julie and I might make the trip any way to see what we get.  Feel free to share your stories.  I'd love to hear about your photography adventures.  Visit me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/johnkarpphoto.  Hope to see you out there!

Day 97: "This won't hurt a bit..."

Ok, this is going to be another one of those "well back in my day" kind of stories.  I don't know about you but I have a pretty unhealthy, childhood fear of the dentist.  Even at my age, with all the advancements in dental care and chair side manner now offered by today's dentists, I still cringe at the thought of having to go to the dentist.  I'm kinda like those old WWII veterans who after 60 - 70 years still get emotional over their experiences.  Now, I"m not trying to say going to the dentist is like going to war but let's just say my scars run long and deep.

So, let's see a show of hands from those whose early dental experiences were something like this.  You're abruptly pulled from your sister's room while in the middle of GI Joe ransacking Barbie's house, leaving a dismembered Ken as a warning to all other toys.  I'll admit I'd never attempt that when my sister's were home.  You're tossed into the old '68 VW bus, strapped into your seat and sent on your way to the living hell that resides in a musty, old dental office in downtown San Francisco.  You arrive and are told to sit down and be still.  No toys in the waiting room.  Certainly nothing like you'd see today.  Hell, dental offices today look like a Toys R Us store.  Nope, all you have are a few old LOOK magazines and a bunch of dental brochures that show rotted teeth and gums.  At this point fear slowly starts to seep into my veins.

At the moment I start to entertain ideas that this is all a bad joke and that we'll soon be going home, a crusty, old, silver haired man in a white smock walks out with a look that says someone pissed in his Cheeriors and he's looking to take his vengeance out on this hapless six year old.  Fear meter has moved up several pegs.  "Come with me!" he barks and I quickly follow this grim reaper to my impending demise.  Walking into this chamber of horrors I see a large, stainless steel contraption that has drills and picks coming out from all directions, like an octopus of death.  A porcelain spittoon hangs at the side of a leather chair which points upward, as if pleading to heaven to spare this young child.  I hop up on the chair, surrounded by implements of death and my fear meter has tapped well into the red zone.  I immediately start negotiating with God to spare me, promising pristine behavior for the rest of my life but alas, my prayers go unanswered.  The nightmare will now begin...

I hardly noticed the paper towel bib that's strapped around my neck.  What the hell do I need a bib for?  Oh, that question will be answered soon enough.  "Just sit still, now!"  The smell of stale cigarettes and formaldehyde engulfs my senses as he instructs me on how to behave.  First up, the pick!  Fear meter has now tapped out.  A large, metal hook is now making it's way to my mouth and I'm frozen in abject fear.  At this point in my life I discover that the touch of metal against my teeth is pretty similar to a few hundred volts of electricity coursing through my body.  Of course I flinch and this makes Dr. Death more than irritated.  "I said sit still!"  After what felt like an hour of methodical mining for gold the dentist announced with a certain amount of glee that I had three cavities.  What's a cavity?  Yeah, sure, I know now that it means "hole" but I tell you that the word "cavity" carries the same vile characteristics as the "F-bomb" carries for others.

I thought the picking was bad.  What came next was pure hell on earth.  If I knew any government secrets back then I would've been spewing them like a busted fire hydrant.  The decision was made to start drilling immediately.  Of course I had no say in it.  I will say that at this point in the evolution of dentistry there was Novacaine to help "reduce" the pain.  Yeah, "reduce"... blow me!  "This won't hurt a bit", says Dr. Death.  Well, I'm here to tell you I would've assumed that "this won't hurt a bit" means no pain.  Silly, little boy.  A footlong needle was thrust into my mouth and after penetrating deep into my gums was twisted and turned in multiple directions with a ferocity only expressed by a knife carrying serial killer.  Now Novacaine is suppose to set within 15 minutes.  This clown must have had an afternoon tee time because he was firing up that drill in five minutes.  What the hell?  My mouth is not numb!!  "Just raise your hand if this starts to hurt."  I guess he didn't think it was funny when I immediately raised my hand while he was still holding the drill.  I would soon pay for my sophomoric gesture.

The sound of the high pitched drill filled the tiny office and before the drill made it's way to my mouth I immediately clenched my ass checks so hard that if you had put a piece of coal in there you'd find a big, fat diamond.  Talk about your "blood diamond".  From my neck to my toes, every muscle was taunt with anticipation.  "Open wide!" bellows Dr. Death.   My breath became short and shallow.  Sweat started to build up on my brow.  He thrust his fat, sausage like fingers (sans gloves) into my mouth, pulling down my jaw in an awkward, painful position and immediately began drilling.  It became apparent to me that the Novacaine hadn't set in because the blinding electricity started shooting through my body again.  I remembered his command to raise my hand if it became painful but I thought I'd try to gut this out given that he was already pretty annoyed with me up to this point.  The drilling seemed to go on for an eternity.  I was pretty certain there wouldn't be anything left if he kept at that pace.  Maybe it was me but I could swear that he pressed down so hard with that drill that it actually slowed down.  Slowed down up until it hit what I can only assume was a nerve that was wrapped around my brain stem.  I flinched so hard my body convulsed .  I immediately raised my arm with such vigor that Hitler would've been proud.   I guess that little signal didn't have the impact I had hoped.  Instead of stopping, Dr. Death barked at me to sit still.  Tears were now running down the sides of my face.  I couldn't believe that my last moments on earth were going to be spent on this chair as an old man drilled his way deep into my brain cavity.  Ugh, there's that word "cavity".

After "hours" of drilling and without rhyme or reason, this bringer of death stopped.  The sound of the drill was now only an echo that would remain permanently etched into my little mind.  My body seemed to melt into the chair as my skin felt cold and clammy, sweating through my shirt.  The rest was pretty much a blur.  There was some additional picking and prodding but I was pretty much oblivious to all that.  The next thing I remember was being given a little paper cup full of this light, blue liquid.  I remember how sweet and refreshing it tasted.  I was told to "rinse and spit".  Not wanting to endure any more drilling I did as I was told, or at least I tried.  The rinsing was pretty easy but spitting became another chore.  FINALLY the novacaine set in and at that point I lost all feeling and control of my mouth.  My attempt at spitting failed miserably as the blue liquid cascaded down my chin, barely making it into the spittoon.  It was at that moment I noticed all this blood on my bib.  It took a while to register it was mine.  By this time I didn't care.  I had succumbed to the idea that I was no longer going to live another day.  But life plays cruel tricks on us.  It was now clear to me that I would survive this day and that every six months for the rest of my life I would have to endure this hellish nightmare.

So here I am, 50 years old and I still enter the dentist's office with the same amount of dread that I did that horrible day nearly 45 years ago.  But I will give credit to the dentists of today.  The doctor I see now is absolutely amazing and so comforting.  She actually hums songs while she's working on me and constantly gives me little bits of reassurance.  If only I had a dentist like her 45 years ago.  I suspect my anxiety is here to stay but like the old war veterans, I find ways to endure.

Ugh, I can't believe I have to go back in six months!

Day 96: Roscoe...

Well, I guess it was inevitable that I'd have to say something about the other man of the house.  The little man.  The tough guy.  Mr. Alpha.  Little Roscoe Jenkins. 

He came to us as part of an "intervention".  While living in Irvine, I came home from work one day to find my wife, daughter and her boyfriend all sitting around the living room, just staring at me when I walked in.  Besides the goofy grins I got, I immediately knew something was afoul when Nicole was being overly nice to me, asking me how my day was.  Mind you this was the same kid who, back in the day, could almost never make eye contact and seldom could string three words together to make a conversation with me.  Of course the first thing I said was "What do you want?"  Come on, ladies, you're not all that subtle, plus I've been around the block a few times so I know you're always wanting something.  I guess that's why you like the young, dumb kind.  They're easily manipulated.  I'll leave it at that.  I could write a book on a woman's idea of natural selection when it comes to picking a mate.

Any way, I won't bore you with the details.  Suffice it to say we ended up with yet another prototype dog (there's also the long haired Chihuahua).  At that time I was beginning to think I'll never own a "real" dog (50lbs or bigger).  So now that we have this, ugh, toy poodle, I'm thinking, well, at least he's a male.  It'll help offsite the excessive amount of estrogen consuming this household.  Yeah, wishful thinking.

My ideas of male bonding were pretty much shot from day one.  This little troll immediately imprinted with my wife and he quickly became her guardian.  I'm completely convinced he was a Secret Service agent in a previous life.  Where ever Julie goes, so goes Roscoe.  When Julie gets up from the couch it's almost as if you can see him talk into his little paw, "Eagle is on the move", and he's off following right on her heels.  Forget bathroom privacy.  Julie quickly learned she had to leave the door ajar or else he'd frantically scratch the hell out of it.  When she goes on errands, living him behind, I'm serenaded for a good 30 minutes of whines and howls. 

I think the worst part was and still is his attitude towards me every time I reach over to give Julie a hug or a kiss.  It's like when someone gets too close to the president.  SWARM, SWARM, SWARM!!!   Now mind you, he's really quite a little wimp.  His outbursts are best summed up by William Shakespeare, "...full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."  Belle, the Chihuahua, who to this day is still trying to convince the rest of us she's NOT a dog, wants nothing to do with him but at the drop of a treat will make him cower like a little bitch.  Of course the minute Belle walks away, he struts around all cock strong as if to say, "Yeah, you're LUCKY I didn't bite you."  If there was a dog that's completely full of shit, it would be Roscoe.

As much as it pains me to say it, the little guy does have a cute side.  Yeah, he pisses me off when he barks at me when I enter a room or at every frickin' truck that rolls down our street.  But it is kinda cute how he hops up into my lap when there's a thunderstorm or when he curls up next to me in the middle of the night when he's cold.  He's got a quirky personality.  Tough exterior but total mush on the inside.  He's our little home security system, barking at every little noise.  No one could sneak into this house.  So for that, little man, thank you.  It  would be nice, though, if you had a little on/off switch.  Heck, some doggie Valium now and then might be nice to mix in your bowl.  

So for now there are still two men of the household.  An awkward truce between man and mutt, both claiming to be the "Pack Leader".

PS - the pic from the groomers... yeah, that's the look that says, "GET ME THE F--- OUT OF HERE, A-HOLE!!"

Day 95: Sweat Etiquette...

Alright folks, looks like it's time for a little lesson in gym etiquette.  For those of you that do go to the gym I'm sure some of this will sound familiar.  I suspect you're either a victim, perpetrator or both regarding the things we experience during our trips to the gym.  All I'm looking for is a little common courtesy among all gym rats and those who aspire to be said rats.  So let's go...

Smokers - Hey, let me be the first to commend you on making that commitment to better health.  Here's hoping that it'll eventually lead you to overcoming that nasty habit.  But in the meantime here's a suggestion from the rest of us air breathers, disinfect yourself before going to the gym.  Hell, at least don't be smoking as you're walking up to the front door.  Nothing like gasping for air after a ball-breaking set only to suck down the permeating stink of a pack of Lucky Strikes emanating from your body.  I mean if that's the way we're gonna play it, I'll bypass the deodorant and make sure I've had plenty of refried beans, cauliflower, some prune juice, a beer, a couple sticks of beef jerky and rub a couple of garlic cloves all over me before I go to the gym.  Yeah, bitch, I'll take stink to a whole new level. 

Effort - Here's a key point to keep in mind.  If you're sweating more BEFORE you get to the gym then when you're walking out after "working out", then you aren't working out.  Stop bragging to your friends about how much you work out if you're consistently walking out the gym with a heart rate lower than what it was when you entered the gym.  If your shirt is try, your breathing calm and your mind clear, then I'd say you just wasted an hour of your life.  If sweat is running down your head, arms and chest, if the sound of your heart is pounding in your ears, if you feel a little light-headed then I'd say you rocked the gym!

Not a library - I know a lot of folks like to read magazines or their eReaders when they're working out on cardio machines.  That's all good but if your heart rate never increases during the exercise then you're not exercising.  Don't take credit for doing something you're not.  Go to the library or nearest Starbucks and enjoy your trash mag and leave the sweating to the real gym rats.  

Lose the cell phone - The other day I hopped on the treadmill to knock out a few miles.  Next to me was a woman who was chatting away on her phone.  I noticed her incline was set to zero and her pace was 1.5.  "1.5"?!  That's barely walking!  My father-in-law with his walker moves faster than her.  Ok, I get it, she doesn't want to be out of breath while she's chatting to a friend but if that conversation is SOOOOO important, get the frick off the treadmill and let someone else actually work out.  Honey, your ass will still be just as fat as it was when you started that conversation.  Try losing the phone, bump up the incline to at least "1" and push the speed up to a point where it's hard for you to talk.  THAT'S working out.  Do that three times a week and you'll be wearing baggy jeans in no time.

Squatters - Nothing infuriates me more than to have to wait on someone to finish an exercise.  If you're not working out, get off the machine.  If you're in between sets, get off the machine.  Listen, I don't give a shit whether you have one or 10 more sets to go, move off and let someone work in with you.  I typically have timed sets so I need to get on and off as quickly as possible.  Now for you, Conan, I'm sure you need ALL that rest in between sets but I don't.  For the love of God, how can you take 30 seconds to do one set but take five minutes to recover?  It's not like you're power lifting anything.  And by the way, at what point in your routine does sweat actually start to appear?  When you're masturbating in the shower?

Hours of operation - I propose a moratorium.  No gym, even 24 Hour Fitness, should be open between the hours of 4:00 PM and 11:00 PM.  Why, because there's already an establishment that provides the same service.  It's called a nightclub/bar.  I've belonged to several different types of gyms in my life and EVERYONE of them is the same between 4:00 and 11:00.  They're meat markets.  Over-boobed, under-brained women being followed by over-muscled, over-tatted knuckle-draggers, all standing around chatting up one another, trying desperately to impress.  No sweating, no heavy breathing but by God there are a lot of "beautiful people" all jockeying for a spot in front of the mirror.

If you really aren't into gyms, then don't go.  It's not doing anything for you and most likely you're only getting in the way of someone who's trying to accomplish something.  Hey, gyms aren't for everyone.  Find the thing you enjoy and go do it.  Walking, swimming, yoga, biking, whatever.  Don't let anyone try to convince you the only way to good health is to join a gym.  When you find something that feels good to your body AND to your head, you'll come back to it.  Think of your favorite games you played as a child.  You did them because they were fun and they made you feel good.  You weren't necessary all that good at it but it was always something you looked forward to.  So experiment with different activities until you find that one that makes you look forward to doing it again tomorrow. 

Com 'on now, feel the burn!