Appetite for Destruction

Time for another installment of "My 30th Year: What Have I Done?"

After mulling over the options for what to do with our dysfunctional shower, I came to the conclusion that I could do only one thing, and that I would do that one thing...alone. Destroy it. Destroy it all. So I did. Sort of. Don't you. Hate it. When. Advertisers. Use. One or. Two. Word Sentences. With. Periods. For. Emphasis.

Yep. Where there used to be 3 walls and a floor of tile encased with glass sliding doors, we now feature gaping studs with disintegrating insulation and exposed plumbing. Great success! (see pic above) I'm now officially done with what my own hands can achieve. You know what's fun? Dropping a 5 ft. section of drywall, with ceramic tile attached, off the upstairs balcony onto the concrete patio below.

I was in Chicago last week on a photo shoot for work, and should have been blogging. Unfortunately, I spent most of my free time digesting dough and chocolate. I consumed more cookies and brownies in three days than any man ever should, especially if that man wants to indulge in the skinny jeans craze. Don't worry, I don't.

What's up with this composer?

Not one like Handel or Bach (sorry, Mom). I mean the Blogger composer, the box in which I write these blogs; the box which allows me to place links and add italics for emphasis, etc... For some reason, every time I use our Mac laptop to write, it screws up all the formatting. Even if I jump on the PC to try and fix it, it doesn't seem to interpret the text in the same way. So if any of my posts have really large or small or a blend of font sizes, it is the computer's fault. It is in no way a lack of understanding on my part.

Bad dunk contest followup

An ESPN columnist agreed (with me, clearly) that the dunk contest was garbage, but it feels like he didn't quite give an honestly critical opinion, opting for a more PC approach. Maybe he has a job covering the contest next year, or a Sprite-supplied promotional laptop bag. Anyway...

Bonus note: The article comments on Courtney Sims, a former U of M hoopster and current D-League player (the NBA's JV squad), who never ever improved in 4 years of college. After complimenting Sims' shooting touch, the writer quips, "On the other hand, he's a bit awkward, runs funny and isn't terribly physical." Ah yes, that's the Courtney Sims we know. And isn't that the reason he's in the D-League in the first place?

Give me "The Leaner" any day

Annie and I had a quiet, but much needed at-home Valentine's Day. We hadn't spent quality time together, sans kids, since the W. Bush administration. Our mornings were separately endured - she at the hair salon, where I had a dozen roses delivered via super secret courier, and me at a local mall, filling in as Big Cookie Cake decorator in a corporate-supported V-Day promotion. I anticipated doing more 'marketing guy' work, like standing around and looking confused, but demands were such that I had to put my limited decorating skills to work. While you catch your breath from "yeah right" giggling, realize I am not crafting wedding cakes here - just some colorful borders and Valentines-y messages using icing on ginormous cookies.

Let me be honest here: I hate malls on holidays. I'd rather work on 50-year old plumbing at the cottage than service crazed consumers at a cookie shop, but I try not to let this conflict of interests bury my enthusiasm for my job. But there were moments - two in particular - where my creative efforts in cookie design were genuinely appreciated by customers, and that made me feel good. Not as good as the text message that buzzed in my pocket when Annie got the flowers, but good enough to make my morning of work seem meaningful.

Our Valentine's evening began early, with New York strips on the grill (while still daylight), seasoned red skin potato wedges, homemade salad, and plenty of red wine. Maybe it was the wine or the lame comedy we watched, but our night ended early, too. This is finally getting me to the subject of this post...

Due to the early bedtime, I woke at 4:30am and could not get back to sleep. So I made my way downstairs and did what anyone else would do in my situation - watch 2.5 hours of the NBA's All-Star weekend on DVR! For those who aren't pro basketball fans, this event includes competitions of shooting, hamming & mugging for the camera, and dunking (sort of). For the record, I have claimed victory in several basketball skills competitions on lesser stages in my lifetime. Two free throw shooting competitions (Jr. high camp, and an impromptu high school practice competition, where I nailed 62 in a row); a 3-pt shooting competition as a sophomore or junior at a Christ In Youth conference, and a slam dunk contest (seriously) at the freshman orientation all-nighter at Grand Valley's fieldhouse. The dunking victory came on a 9-ft rim, but still, I won a brand new GVSU hat, so that's how you know it was real. I claim and remember these accomplishments both to boost my self esteem (sad, I know), but also to move closer to making my point: I can appreciate these skills competitions, but this year's NBA "jam" was more like a jar of spoiled apricot preserves*.

Nevermind the fact that the 3-pt shooting contest's participants were nobodies who also happened to SUCK AT SHOOTING 3 POINTERS, but the dunk contest fell to the saddest and lowest point in its history. In short, the Sprite All Star Sprite Slam Dunk Fest sponsored by Sprite became a rigged, gimmicky Sprite ad featuring some mediocre dunks. If you saw this event, you might recall the unending delays while defending champ Dwight (rhymes with Sprite) Howard set up false hoops, donned Superman capes (fresh last year, recycled this year), and tried to catch passes from random spectators on his way to a few o.k. power dunks. Then, the NBA's favorite tiny leaper of the decade, Nate Robinson, donned a Sprite-green uniform and shoes, and grabbed a green basketball to leap over the aforementioned Superman for his contest-clinching dunk. Alright - this dunk was okay, unlike his previous round dunk where he stepped off a guy's back. He's short! The whole point is that he can jump super high; so why is he using a step ladder?!

Worse than all the shenanigans were the announcers, including former 3-pt and dunk contest participants, who constantly fawned over the antics and acted like this was some great theater. Reggie Miller, bless his ugly...shooting form, mentioned "kryptonite" and "Lex Luthor" eleventeen-thousand times during Nate Spritenson's green-clad effort. HA HA HA - it's a Superman reference! Look, the great dunk contests of the 80s showed nearly the entire array of what humans can do whilst dunking a ball through a hoop, but they still had to do it, on the spot, cameras rolling, without missing! If you missed you got docked! Now, they allow you not only several full minutes, but 2 extra attempts if you don't get your goofy costume-enhanced dunk down the first 1 or 8 times you try it.

NBA: Get the stars back, drop the ridiculous props and teammate gimmicks, give them 1 attempt per round, 6 or 8 rounds, and put MJ, Dominique, Spud, Clyde the Glide, Kenny "Sky" Walker, Larry Nance, and Dr. J on the judges' table and give us our contest back! Gosh!

*Apricot preserves is the grossest jelly flavor of all time. If you say any other flavor, you are wrong!

Home projects make me feel like a child

It happened yesterday, and it happens every time I call a plumber, electrician, tile guy, or even the stupid utility companies. I never know enough about the topic. I haven't examined, measured, or researched enough. I am uncomfortable with a lot of the terminology. I start to rationalize potential decisions out loud, to myself, while the guy on the other end is just waiting for me to say 'yes' or 'no'.

These situations identify one of my biggest insecurities: I hate feeling dumb. By the end of the call (tile guy), my body temperature was up, my pulse was up, and my confidence was in underground parking. Immediately, I was browsing homedepot.com and other supply sites, reading installation guides with titles like, "How To Frame for a Bathtub" and "Installing a Drain" - I don't want to know any of those things! And which handy service person is going to do each of them?

Our master bathroom shower has been out of commission (3 months now? 4?) since we got the plumbing fixed because I can't get around to figuring out exactly what we should do with the walls, nor who should do it. And this is something I really want to get done. I'm tired of trudging into my bathroom to get a towel, then trudging to the kids' bathroom to shower. My closet is already in the hallway - add on this injustice and it's like I'm living in a dorm. If this was just a "someday" project, like, "I'd someday like to install a sauna with a heat resistant flat screen TV", imagine how long that would take! (Not in this house, honey, don't worry).

So I've had a day to think about it, and I still don't know what to do. I just want it fixed, and I want someone else to make the decision, and I want it to cost very little...a perfectly rational and realistic stance on home improvement, right?

Reading is fun-da-mental!

I tried reviewing some books in a post last year, and it wasn't my favorite thing to do. If I started and finished a book, that means I generally enjoyed it. It's hard for me to put in to words why or what exactly I liked best. Sort of like the way I communicate about life and love-- right, honey? Clear as mud.

But I just finished a book whose main character is now in my top three of book characters. The book is A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. I had not previously read anything by Irving, and this was a weighty piece. It takes a while to trudge through some of the early setting and discussion of the narrator's experiences with various religious denominations (episcopalian vs. congregationalist vs. catholic vs. whatever... sorry for not capitalizing), but if you make it, the story is memorable. I finished the book laying in bed the other night, and I felt like Owen Meany's life was a part of my memory, not just my memory of the book about Owen Meany. Does that make sense?

Anyway, thanks Mom for a great book! I already bought Irving's The World According To Garp, which is apparently his signature novel. I also purchased Closing Time, the sequel to Catch-22, a book I thoroughly enjoyed and a movie I recently rented. Who doesn't love Alan Arkin? He's great in everything I've seen him in! If you haven't read Catch-22, the movie won't mean as much but it's worth watching due to a formidable ensemble cast.

The Office

I got a promotion! Sort of. The Company I Work For has, let's say, slimmed down recently; however, we are still located in a large office building full of perimeter offices surrounding cube farms. As a way to boost morale (and because they probably need to sell the cubes for cash), many of us were moved from cubes into nicer offices with a door and a window. Perky!

Here was the old...












And here is the new!











I picked the kids up early from day care last week and took them to see my new digs. They had not yet seen my office at all, so I thought it would be cool for them to get a glimpse of my daily environment, and I could show the kids off to some of my lingering co-workers. When I told them where we were going, they were less than thrilled. But I reminded them about the ICEE machine in our break room and that I work for a cookie company. Suddenly, we were on the road to Disneyland! Once there, they were impressed with several things:
The Elevator
The cookie showcase in the lobby (old, display product only - sorry!)
The maze of empty cubes
The views of the Salt Lake valley (they are quite nice)
Blue Raspberry ICEEs
A cookie from this one nice guy
A piece of candy from this one nice lady
This foam la-z-boy phone holder promotional item











So to summarize: Steve works in this building with a huge elevator, and they have this cookie thing and we got ICEEs and a treat from the really nice people who work there, and he has this phone thing that looks like a chair. Geez, who needs school? We want to go to work, too!

The kids were a hit, and everyone was extremely warm and friendly. The best moment was when my boss began chatting with Z, the talkative one, and asked her if she had ever been to the office before.

Z: "Yeah, um, well no, we just picked up Steve once but we didn't come in."
Me: "When was that? You must have been with Mom."
Z: "No, we were with Heidi. Remember, it was when you got in the car and you farted."
Co-workers nearby but out of sight: "snicker"
Boss: "Ohhhhh, OK."
Me: "Wow, Z, thanks for that great story." [turn to boss] "That one has no filter!"

I'm always shocked at how well the kids remember certain events. I barely recalled being picked up by Heidi and the kids, much less breaking wind (accidentally... what?) Good good times.