Ugh
Friday night the boys came over and we played Rock Band on the Wii and drank lots and lots of beer.
We played Rock Band and drank beer until almost 4 in the morning.
I still haven't recovered.
I didn't even suffer a slight hangover, mind you. It's my $%#@ insomnia.
The damage to my sleep schedule was HUGE. Since that night I have yet to fall asleep earlier than 2am. And I get up at 7ish for work in the AM. There was a time when that would be more than enough sleep for me. Now I need about 7 hours, or I'm a zombie.
Off to try sleeping now. Wish me luck.
Ugh again.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Forgiveness Returns
The last few years I have both been hurt a lot, and left my fair share of hurt in my wake. I learned a lot about myself, relationships and human nature in general. I have also learned a lot of lessons about forgiveness. These themes are nothing new if you've been reading throughout this period.
Last night I was reading the latest issue of Yoga Journal, and there was an article all about forgiveness. I would like to share some insightful nuggets with you now.
Yoga Journal issue 212 August 2008, pg 55
By Sally Kempton
"...the basic fact that forgiveness is not something you do solely for the person who hurt you. It is something you do for yourself, for the sake of your own inner freedom. You forgive so that you can live in the present instead of being stuck in the past. You forgive because your grievances and grudges - even more than hopes and attachments and fears - bind you to the old patterns, old identities, and especially old stories.
"Think of the person you don't really want to forgive: a parent, an ex-lover, a teacher, a betraying friend. Maybe you believe that to forgive the person means you're excusing their wrong or that holding onto your anger somehow gives you back the power that their offense took away."
" 'I'm this way because s/he did that to me!' you say - he or she being that unloving parent, unfaithful lover, etc. The problem is, when you hold on to the grievance you also hold on to its shadow belief: 'I must be flawed in some way to have attracted this hurt.' "
The author shared a fairly well-known story of a woman whose son was beaten to death by another boy. The killer was convicted and sentenced to a long prison term. After the trial the woman asked to see him in his holding cell, to have the satisfaction of seeing him suffer. When she was ushered in, he was sobbing on the floor in the corner. He had no friends, no family, and no hope. She was moved to tears herself and actually gave the boy a hug. She said in that moment she didn't see her son's killer, she saw him only as somebody's son. Right then she let go of the hurt and rage and has since felt perfectly at peace. She doesn't know where the moment came from within her, but she treasures it regardless.
Wow. Stories like that kind of make one feel like all one's own grudges are small and petty by comparison, no? I know mine do. Just reading that story helped me let what little I was still holding on to go. I can physically feel the difference in myself.
I can't stop smiling.
COMMENTS
I don't know if you've tried it, but vengeance is also pretty satisfying.
Petty and passive aggressive vengeance also works well.Friday, July 18, 2008
True Story
Yesterday Joey was driving south on the 101 freeway out of Scottsdale. He was just passing the connection with the Mesa 202, and drivers coming from the 202 East were merging just to Joey's right.
One such merging vehicle was a large white pickup truck pulling one of those long flatbed trailers. You know the type: flaking, rotten-looking, wooden planks on a steel frame painted white and speckled with rust. No walls or rails or anything, just a long flat bed on two wheels.
This truck was coming from the 202 so it had a lot of sideways momentum coming in from the curve of the merge ramp. Just as the truck was hitting the 101 just ahead of Joey, and beginning to straighten out from it's curving tragectory...
the trailer suddenly unhitched, and followed that sideways momentum previously mentioned.
Now rolling freely at approximately seventy miles per hour, and without the truck to fight that sideways energy it rolled directly into Joey's path, mere feet from his front bumper... and kept rolling across the next lane... and the next... and the next. It rolled all the way into the median, which is wide at this spot and full of gravel.
The trailer harmlessly thumped to a halt on the side of the road. Joey and the rest of traffic continued on, as normal. Not so much as a horn honk or a screeching brake even. There was almost no time to react enough to even think to slam on the brakes. It was there and gone in a flash. Joey's foot had barely popped off the gas and then it was all over. No climax. No crash-boom. Nothing.
Joey proceeded to immediately have a massive panic attack.
Luckily his girlfriend was on speed dial. He called her right away and in between gulping breaths of air told her what had just happened. She patiently talked him down.
In case this doesn't sound terrifying enough, here's a little more detail to clarify.
Joey and three other unsuspecting drivers in the lanes to his left were all side-by-side-by-side across those lanes also going approximately seventy miles per hour. A very large trailer (I'm guessing about ten feet wide by twenty feet long) made of steel and wood rolling directly into any one of their paths and hitting any one of them would have been bad news for all of them... or even if it still didn't hit anybody, but just one guy reacted poorly and swerved for that matter. They would all have been toast. It was poor planning on their part.
I clearly remember learning in high school drivers ed class to always give yourself some maneuvering room to at least one side or the other, just in case of emergency. Neither Joey, nor any of the other drivers were following that advice yesterday, that's for certain.
But instead they all kept their cool and it safely careened right past all of them and safely into a gravel ditch.
Phew.
COMMENTS
Yesterday Joey was driving south on the 101 freeway out of Scottsdale. He was just passing the connection with the Mesa 202, and drivers coming from the 202 East were merging just to Joey's right.
One such merging vehicle was a large white pickup truck pulling one of those long flatbed trailers. You know the type: flaking, rotten-looking, wooden planks on a steel frame painted white and speckled with rust. No walls or rails or anything, just a long flat bed on two wheels.
This truck was coming from the 202 so it had a lot of sideways momentum coming in from the curve of the merge ramp. Just as the truck was hitting the 101 just ahead of Joey, and beginning to straighten out from it's curving tragectory...
the trailer suddenly unhitched, and followed that sideways momentum previously mentioned.
Now rolling freely at approximately seventy miles per hour, and without the truck to fight that sideways energy it rolled directly into Joey's path, mere feet from his front bumper... and kept rolling across the next lane... and the next... and the next. It rolled all the way into the median, which is wide at this spot and full of gravel.
The trailer harmlessly thumped to a halt on the side of the road. Joey and the rest of traffic continued on, as normal. Not so much as a horn honk or a screeching brake even. There was almost no time to react enough to even think to slam on the brakes. It was there and gone in a flash. Joey's foot had barely popped off the gas and then it was all over. No climax. No crash-boom. Nothing.
Joey proceeded to immediately have a massive panic attack.
Luckily his girlfriend was on speed dial. He called her right away and in between gulping breaths of air told her what had just happened. She patiently talked him down.
In case this doesn't sound terrifying enough, here's a little more detail to clarify.
Joey and three other unsuspecting drivers in the lanes to his left were all side-by-side-by-side across those lanes also going approximately seventy miles per hour. A very large trailer (I'm guessing about ten feet wide by twenty feet long) made of steel and wood rolling directly into any one of their paths and hitting any one of them would have been bad news for all of them... or even if it still didn't hit anybody, but just one guy reacted poorly and swerved for that matter. They would all have been toast. It was poor planning on their part.
I clearly remember learning in high school drivers ed class to always give yourself some maneuvering room to at least one side or the other, just in case of emergency. Neither Joey, nor any of the other drivers were following that advice yesterday, that's for certain.
But instead they all kept their cool and it safely careened right past all of them and safely into a gravel ditch.
Phew.
COMMENTS
Yeah, well I squished a bug and you don't hear me braggin'.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Family
You live and learn. No past relationship can truly be called a failure unless you learn nothing from it. From my first marriage I learned volumes. There is a long list, but I think one major mistake we made was never introducing our families together. It took us five years to get them in the same room and they all live here in town. I mostly blame myself.
Well, not this time.
Family is very important to Lenka and I both, so yesterday we forced our families to meet under one roof. Weeks in advance, to account for busy schedules, they were all told to bring food and swimsuits for a potluck. It was a smashing success. Fun was had by all.
There was schnitzel, and potato salad, and Italian sausages, and homemade salsa, and stuffed mushrooms, and beer and wine, and my favorite blueberry pie! Mmmmmmm.
What we didn't count on (but in retrospect should have) was that along with the food our parents would be bringing something much more sinister. They brought with them to the table a heaping helping of stories. Stories that invariably started with phrases like...
"When I was trying to potty-train Joey..."
or
"When Lenka was little she used to..."
Fortunately for me, the great majority of these stories were about her. I learned that she hated bathing nearly as much as the family dog did. The dog, by the way, would hide and/or bite when it was aware it was being taken for a bath. She was not much better.
My mom also shared that while weening me off diapers and trying to get me to use the toilet she had to enlist the help of a child psychologist, because I was NOT cooperating. It seems that I had control issues even then.
Lenka's sister Jana also shared a story about how she (Jana, not Lenka) had broken a piece of her mom's priceless tea set as a child and tried to hide her error by patching it with Scotch tape. Her child's brain reasoned that the tape was clear and would therefore be invisible and impossible to detect. She was caught almost immediately.
The best story of the night was actually about Lenka's childhood potty habits. Apparently for a period after being potty-trained, she flat refused to wipe her own bottom after dropping a deuce. She would demand her mother do it for her, because she was grossed out by it. I had tears on that one.
Good times, good people and good food. And, most importantly, Lenka's family is more than comfortable with talking about potty habits at the dinner table. That would be a problem if they didn't. Somehow it manages to come up at every meal with my family, one way or another.
I have a good feeling about this one.
COMMENTS
You live and learn. No past relationship can truly be called a failure unless you learn nothing from it. From my first marriage I learned volumes. There is a long list, but I think one major mistake we made was never introducing our families together. It took us five years to get them in the same room and they all live here in town. I mostly blame myself.
Well, not this time.
Family is very important to Lenka and I both, so yesterday we forced our families to meet under one roof. Weeks in advance, to account for busy schedules, they were all told to bring food and swimsuits for a potluck. It was a smashing success. Fun was had by all.
There was schnitzel, and potato salad, and Italian sausages, and homemade salsa, and stuffed mushrooms, and beer and wine, and my favorite blueberry pie! Mmmmmmm.
What we didn't count on (but in retrospect should have) was that along with the food our parents would be bringing something much more sinister. They brought with them to the table a heaping helping of stories. Stories that invariably started with phrases like...
"When I was trying to potty-train Joey..."
or
"When Lenka was little she used to..."
Fortunately for me, the great majority of these stories were about her. I learned that she hated bathing nearly as much as the family dog did. The dog, by the way, would hide and/or bite when it was aware it was being taken for a bath. She was not much better.
My mom also shared that while weening me off diapers and trying to get me to use the toilet she had to enlist the help of a child psychologist, because I was NOT cooperating. It seems that I had control issues even then.
Lenka's sister Jana also shared a story about how she (Jana, not Lenka) had broken a piece of her mom's priceless tea set as a child and tried to hide her error by patching it with Scotch tape. Her child's brain reasoned that the tape was clear and would therefore be invisible and impossible to detect. She was caught almost immediately.
The best story of the night was actually about Lenka's childhood potty habits. Apparently for a period after being potty-trained, she flat refused to wipe her own bottom after dropping a deuce. She would demand her mother do it for her, because she was grossed out by it. I had tears on that one.
Good times, good people and good food. And, most importantly, Lenka's family is more than comfortable with talking about potty habits at the dinner table. That would be a problem if they didn't. Somehow it manages to come up at every meal with my family, one way or another.
I have a good feeling about this one.
COMMENTS
Sometimes I forget why I think David is an asshole. I've suddenly remembered.Saturday, July 12, 2008
Lenka and I have decided to start playing in the kitchen more and we bought a blank book to start keeping track of the recipes we actually like.
Above is the first keeper. It was fast, easy to make and pretty cheap too. And most importantly it tasted like goodness. If you're interested, here you go:
Chocolate/Strawberry Love Biscuits
-- serves 6
-2 cups buttermilk biscuit mix (we actually used mulitgrain pancake mix, and loved it)
-1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
-3 Tbsp sugar
-2/3 cup whole milk
-1 1/2 lbs fresh strawberries
-3/4 cup strawberry jam
-whipped cream
1. Oven rack to center, preheat to 450 degrees
2. Mix biscuit mix, cocoa, sugar and milk in a large mixing bowl. Mix thoroughly.
3. Drop 1/4 cup sized biscuits onto cookie sheet, it should come to 6 biscuits. The original recipe called for an ungreased cookie sheet, but I recommend at least a little cooking spray. Trust me on that one. Bake 9-10 minutes, or until fork comes out clean from center of biscuit.
4. While biscuits cooking, clean and chop most of the strawberries into small pieces. Save some for garnish.
5. Slice cooked biscuits so you have tops and bottoms, like a chocolate hamburger bun. Fill the center with warmed jam, chopped berries and whipped cream. Replace the top and add more whip cream if desired, and maybe a whole berry. Serve while it's still warm.
We made the whip cream ourselves... well, my brother made it, but he taught us how for next time. A little heavy cream, a good whisk, a large bowl, and a FAST whisking arm is all you need. It helps to throw the cream in the freezer for 5 minutes or so before you try to whip it. Add a little vanilla extract to taste.
As you can see we (that was my little touch) also drizzled some chocolate syrup and more jam on the plate for presentation, and to dip in. Mmmmmmmmm.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Donated Blood Yesterday
For those of you who have never given blood, it's an experience worth having. I strongly suggest donating what they call "Power Red."
What this means is they pull out your blood, and a sophisticated machine (with pumps and tubes and all kinds of nifty beeps) filters out your red blood cells for them to keep, and then gives you back your plasma and platelets along with a little saline. By giving you most of it back, and adding the saline they say that this option leaves you feeling a little less drained and dehydrated, and way less likely to have what they referred to as a "reaction," whatever that means.
It's the saline that moves me to suggest trying it. The saline is in a bag hanging on the side of the machine and as a result is approximately room temperature in a room that is about 75 degrees. Your average body temperature is around 98 degrees.
Do the math.
As it flows back into your system you can feel your body temperature noticeably dropping from the inside-out. Its a bizarre sensation that I don't think I will ever forget. It starts with the arm the needle is in, and slowly spreads everywhere. The sensation is worth the experience. On par with some of the cheaper weed I've ever had, really. Keep in mind, I'm talking real crap pot here, but still, it's kinda cool.
Besides that, when you're done you get all the juice boxes and cookies you can handle.
And then I went home and passed straight out for a good three hours...
...wow, it REALLY is a lot more like smoking pot than I realized. Huh.
COMMENTS
I've had tons upon tons of saline and never felt that. They must warm the saline up considerably for us actual sick people. Thanks for the blood. Getting red cells in a transfusion takes forever, but it feels pretty damn good.
Monday, July 07, 2008
HAPPY 2-6 ANGELA...
Yesterday, this lady threw one of the coolest birthday parties I have ever been a part of. We all dressed up in goofy costumes and played this silly/fun-as-hell murder mystery game. I completely lost (I was betrayed by my closest confidante, and left for dead on the desert island, alone with the mother of my betrothed, who left me for a pirate... I HATE it when that sh*t happens!) but I still had a BLAST playing.
...AND MANY MORE!!
Yesterday, this lady threw one of the coolest birthday parties I have ever been a part of. We all dressed up in goofy costumes and played this silly/fun-as-hell murder mystery game. I completely lost (I was betrayed by my closest confidante, and left for dead on the desert island, alone with the mother of my betrothed, who left me for a pirate... I HATE it when that sh*t happens!) but I still had a BLAST playing.
...AND MANY MORE!!
Picture of the Day July 5th
In case I haven't mentioned it, Reefer Madness was THE MOST exhausting piece I have ever had the pleasure to be a part of. Imagine running around singing/screaming/dancing/fighting for the better part of two hours. Mind you, I'm not complaining at all, it was a blast! By the end of every show though there would be a half hour or so of adrenaline still running through me and then I would crash hard.
Well, our closing day we pulled a double. We had a 2pm matinee and an 8pm show as well. I felt like I had been put through a dishwasher by the time we were done.
Afterwards was the obligatory cast party. I drank a lot, and partook of some "post production character research" if you catch my meaning. I was buzzing really good on both fronts, when Laura Anne announced she had a little more "research" to share. I politely explained that I was feeling good at that moment, and I know my limits. I told her if I had any more I would just go right to sleep.
She responded by calling me a pussy.
Damn. The Jimmy Harper in me rose to the challenge. "I'm not either!"
And about twenty minutes later, Ryan and Lenka found me like this...
In case I haven't mentioned it, Reefer Madness was THE MOST exhausting piece I have ever had the pleasure to be a part of. Imagine running around singing/screaming/dancing/fighting for the better part of two hours. Mind you, I'm not complaining at all, it was a blast! By the end of every show though there would be a half hour or so of adrenaline still running through me and then I would crash hard.
Well, our closing day we pulled a double. We had a 2pm matinee and an 8pm show as well. I felt like I had been put through a dishwasher by the time we were done.
Afterwards was the obligatory cast party. I drank a lot, and partook of some "post production character research" if you catch my meaning. I was buzzing really good on both fronts, when Laura Anne announced she had a little more "research" to share. I politely explained that I was feeling good at that moment, and I know my limits. I told her if I had any more I would just go right to sleep.
She responded by calling me a pussy.
Damn. The Jimmy Harper in me rose to the challenge. "I'm not either!"
And about twenty minutes later, Ryan and Lenka found me like this...
Friday, July 04, 2008
Happy Fireworks Day
I have a little tradition that I have been honoring for the better part of the last decade. I like to have a good cigar while I watch the fireworks show. It's a nostalgic throw back to being a kid and watching my dad have one while we played with sparklers and firecrackers, back in Illinois. He would use the lit end of the cigar to light the fuses of all the stuff for us. Good times. As a result I try to indulge in one every year on this day.
This year mother nature was having none of that.
Lenka and I hiked up North Mountain to get a better vantage point to watch fireworks. It was her idea, and a great one too. We were able to see five different fireworks shows from all over the valley at once. It was pretty cool, and good exercise.
Unfortunately, it was a VERY windy night down at the street level, and at the higher altitude it was even worse. Not planning for this, I had only the box of matches you get free when you buy a cigar, and not my Zippo. I went through the entire box in various different contorted positions (attempting to shield from the wind) to light that bastard. In the end, I had to wait til after the fireworks when we hiked back down. A lighter did the trick first try, even in the wind.
Despite not having my stogie while watching the light show, it was still nice to share it with the most lovely woman I know. She even had a few puffs. Her first. I will admit that starting her on a Romeo y Julieta was probably not the best way to get her to like cigars, but she is willing to try again with something milder. Should be fun.
I have a little tradition that I have been honoring for the better part of the last decade. I like to have a good cigar while I watch the fireworks show. It's a nostalgic throw back to being a kid and watching my dad have one while we played with sparklers and firecrackers, back in Illinois. He would use the lit end of the cigar to light the fuses of all the stuff for us. Good times. As a result I try to indulge in one every year on this day.
This year mother nature was having none of that.
Lenka and I hiked up North Mountain to get a better vantage point to watch fireworks. It was her idea, and a great one too. We were able to see five different fireworks shows from all over the valley at once. It was pretty cool, and good exercise.
Unfortunately, it was a VERY windy night down at the street level, and at the higher altitude it was even worse. Not planning for this, I had only the box of matches you get free when you buy a cigar, and not my Zippo. I went through the entire box in various different contorted positions (attempting to shield from the wind) to light that bastard. In the end, I had to wait til after the fireworks when we hiked back down. A lighter did the trick first try, even in the wind.
Despite not having my stogie while watching the light show, it was still nice to share it with the most lovely woman I know. She even had a few puffs. Her first. I will admit that starting her on a Romeo y Julieta was probably not the best way to get her to like cigars, but she is willing to try again with something milder. Should be fun.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Something Healthy
Yesterday before I went into the theatre for the show, Lenka asked what I would like to eat when I got to her place afterwards. I said "something healthy. Surprise me."
Mmmmmmm.
When I got there she had made perfectly seasoned orange roughy (sp?) fillets, mushroom risotto, and a pile of mixed veggies.
Above is her finishing off what was left of the mixed veggies.
What is it about a woman who isn't afraid to eat right out of the container that turns me on?
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Damn.
I been snapping plenty o pics, just not posting in a timely manner. Allow me now to play catch-up.
Monday. My lovely one all tuckered out after staying up too late with yours truly the night before and working a long day driving all over the valley.
Tuesday. A random pic taken very dangerously while jamming down the freeway. Don't worry, I don't plan on making that a habit.
Today. I'm more than a little embarrassed to admit that I kind of stole this statue from my ex-wife while going through the divorce. While it's true that I'm the one who always collected Buddhas, it was a wedding gift from her side. If I remember correctly I had given up all rights to most of the shared belongings intentionally, but in the case of this little statue I think I had a rare moment of angry entitlement. Sorry, Meg. Oh well, that was a different time, and I'm guessing she couldn't care less at this point in the game.
I been snapping plenty o pics, just not posting in a timely manner. Allow me now to play catch-up.
Monday. My lovely one all tuckered out after staying up too late with yours truly the night before and working a long day driving all over the valley.
Tuesday. A random pic taken very dangerously while jamming down the freeway. Don't worry, I don't plan on making that a habit.
Today. I'm more than a little embarrassed to admit that I kind of stole this statue from my ex-wife while going through the divorce. While it's true that I'm the one who always collected Buddhas, it was a wedding gift from her side. If I remember correctly I had given up all rights to most of the shared belongings intentionally, but in the case of this little statue I think I had a rare moment of angry entitlement. Sorry, Meg. Oh well, that was a different time, and I'm guessing she couldn't care less at this point in the game.
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