I can't believe it's been a week since my last post.
I can go hot and cold with this stuff.
Some updates:
The Sleep Apnea issue remains interesting. I had another sleep test last night that required me to spend the night hooked up to the same dizzying array of cords, and doohickeys that would monitor my every breath, heartbeat, eye movement, and leg twitch. This time, I also had a mask strapped to my face that helped me to breath through my nose.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale Exhale. All through the nose....if I got greedy or lazy and tried to breath through my mouth, then the system would crash and the technician would scramble into my room muttering things like, "You have to breath through YOUR NOSE!" As if I knew exacty how the hell I was breathing WHILE SLEEP in the first place?
At 3am we tried a full face mask that covered up my nose and mouth. No matter how I breathed, this mask would help me. I looked like a fighter pilot and had a horrible time even turning from side to side. You have to make sure the mask stays flush on your face or else air leaks out and we're back to square one. I also sounded like Darth Vader when I tried to talk. I TRIED to sound like Lord Vader which didn't help either. I am able to sustain my sense of humor even under duress in the middle of the night. I swtiched back to a nose unit about 4am for the remainder of the night. I think I did okay - we'll see when I get my report back next week.
To get my cholesterol down, Doc Eells told me to have some red yeast rice each night. After 3 grocery stores, Janae decided to ASK someone where this stuff was.....It is a dietary supplement and can be found in the vitamin aisle....not in the pasta section. Ooops. Our bad. We don't cook much.
My golf game is on the rocks however I must get it back in shape and soon. I am going to Pebble Beach in two weeks, then Valhalla the week after. Valhalla is the sight of a former PGA Championship. It's in Kentucky and is supposed to be a great track. When traveling for golf, I always ask the starter what the course record is, and my brother-in-law Wade chirps in, "Safe." We do this at all the top courses we play. WE CRACK OURSELVES UP. The assistant pros in these shops are all in their late 20's. All are super serious. Few have a sense of humor, and most make around 45 grand a year.... where does their attitude come from? Lighten up guys.
Jake is doing GREAT in Ecuador. He had his first Baptism a few weeks ago. He is struggling with eating the fresh seafood that comes from the Golfo de Guayaquil. Tuna,Shrimp.....he hates this stuff but has to eat it or else starve. I guess they don't have any "Farm Basket's" or "Macayo's" down there?
Janae and I took my mom to see "Jersey Boys" last weekend. It was a lot of fun. The music was great and the story was entertaining. Some people will complain about the language and want to storm out, but that's the way they talk back in Jersey. Get over it. Just remember: Those people will go to hell, not you.
The Kite Runner is an incredible film. It is also a heartbreaker....if you are going to watch this movie, bring some tissue along. Yeah, even you tough guys will need some.
American Idol? Archuleta will win, David "Big Noggin'" Cook will take 2nd, and Brook White 3rd.....Castro leaves tonight, Seesha leaves next week... And you have an opinion on this? BRING IT.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The O Bar
I sped off at lunchtime Tuesday in search of an oxygen bar.
I found one up on the NE corner of Durango and Charleston. It's actually a tanning salon that has an oxygen bar. I asked the girl (who was like 18) if inhaling their oxygen would be good for a guy with sleep apnea. She said, "Oh, yes. Definitely."
I wonder where she got her medical degree?
I quipped to her, "Here's another thing that we used to get for free and now have to pay for. When I was a kid we drank water out of the hose."
"Huh, what was that?" She didn't look up.
And so for $13 bucks, I was tethered to this oxygen contraption (probably some vacuum cleaner in the back flipped to blow instead of suck) for 1/2 an hour. I actually felt stupid when people walked in the door for their tanning appointments. Everyone who came in was a female and all had that embarrassed look that ALL people have when going to the tanning salon. Equally shamed, no one made any eye contact.
Keith's take on the O Bar? Worthless.
My day got more infinitely more exciting when I met Chris from Leak Detectors in my backyard. Chris was trying to help me find out why I was losing 3 inches a day out of one of the pools in the backyard (the chiquita [or baby] pool). Since Chris was by himself, and all the pumps and stuff are way on the other side of the yard, I was enlisted to help turn dials on the CO2 tank, and be on the lookout for bubbles.
I believe when I told Chris I had been to an oxygen bar earlier in the day, he knew I could handle any sort of compressed gas task with alacrity. This guy gets $325 bucks just to show up with his gear since HE KNOWS if you are the unlucky soul calling him you are seriously SOL. This ain't rocket science. I've seen Alec's math and physics books and THAT stuff really is rocket science (props to Alec for getting one of the 4 Dean's Scholarships next year that the U's science department hands out). After listening to me recite all the stuff I did and didn't do over the past few weeks in my feeble effort to locate the leak (Memo to all: Sticking your head in the sand and praying that it will fix itself is not an option), he said he was sure the leak wasn't in ANY of the lines and that it was a structural problem. Silently I scoffed at him....as if he knew my pool. Structural?!?!? Dollar signs. Yikes.
Chris slithered around the pool as I turned knobs and closed my eyes hopeful that nothing would explode. He/We located the suspected leak.....STRUCTURAL. Big crack in the spillway easily patched up. Damn. I hate being wrong. I was SURE it was a pipe. It was a $10 fix versus digging up my yard. Lady Luck smiling upon me.
Or so one would think.
1/2 hour later and I look outside: My pool is down 12 inches, water is pouring over the spillway flooding the chiquita pool and overflowing into my yard. It was like Katrina. Water everywhere. The one thing that can't happen with this pump system HAPPENED. Suction from the pool and return to the spa. This is a recipe for disaster. Seriously, this event needed to be on film.
The only thing that was missing was me accidentally electrocuting myself.
I found one up on the NE corner of Durango and Charleston. It's actually a tanning salon that has an oxygen bar. I asked the girl (who was like 18) if inhaling their oxygen would be good for a guy with sleep apnea. She said, "Oh, yes. Definitely."
I wonder where she got her medical degree?
I quipped to her, "Here's another thing that we used to get for free and now have to pay for. When I was a kid we drank water out of the hose."
"Huh, what was that?" She didn't look up.
And so for $13 bucks, I was tethered to this oxygen contraption (probably some vacuum cleaner in the back flipped to blow instead of suck) for 1/2 an hour. I actually felt stupid when people walked in the door for their tanning appointments. Everyone who came in was a female and all had that embarrassed look that ALL people have when going to the tanning salon. Equally shamed, no one made any eye contact.
Keith's take on the O Bar? Worthless.
My day got more infinitely more exciting when I met Chris from Leak Detectors in my backyard. Chris was trying to help me find out why I was losing 3 inches a day out of one of the pools in the backyard (the chiquita [or baby] pool). Since Chris was by himself, and all the pumps and stuff are way on the other side of the yard, I was enlisted to help turn dials on the CO2 tank, and be on the lookout for bubbles.
I believe when I told Chris I had been to an oxygen bar earlier in the day, he knew I could handle any sort of compressed gas task with alacrity. This guy gets $325 bucks just to show up with his gear since HE KNOWS if you are the unlucky soul calling him you are seriously SOL. This ain't rocket science. I've seen Alec's math and physics books and THAT stuff really is rocket science (props to Alec for getting one of the 4 Dean's Scholarships next year that the U's science department hands out). After listening to me recite all the stuff I did and didn't do over the past few weeks in my feeble effort to locate the leak (Memo to all: Sticking your head in the sand and praying that it will fix itself is not an option), he said he was sure the leak wasn't in ANY of the lines and that it was a structural problem. Silently I scoffed at him....as if he knew my pool. Structural?!?!? Dollar signs. Yikes.
Chris slithered around the pool as I turned knobs and closed my eyes hopeful that nothing would explode. He/We located the suspected leak.....STRUCTURAL. Big crack in the spillway easily patched up. Damn. I hate being wrong. I was SURE it was a pipe. It was a $10 fix versus digging up my yard. Lady Luck smiling upon me.
Or so one would think.
1/2 hour later and I look outside: My pool is down 12 inches, water is pouring over the spillway flooding the chiquita pool and overflowing into my yard. It was like Katrina. Water everywhere. The one thing that can't happen with this pump system HAPPENED. Suction from the pool and return to the spa. This is a recipe for disaster. Seriously, this event needed to be on film.
The only thing that was missing was me accidentally electrocuting myself.
Monday, April 21, 2008
4th Dog In
Alec and Tiffany were down over the weekend and brought their little doggie with them.
Riggins is about 5 months old. He is a Pomeranian-Chihuahua mix. This means he goes about 4 pounds soaking wet and has oversized ears that stand straight up and make him look like a baby fox. He quivers too....can't stop him.
As with all small dogs, he has a motor that DOES NOT STOP. I suspect this dog will probably need a daily dose of valium - like 2 grains - as it gets older in order to slow it down.
I have a theory that all dogs think they are the same size....or rather perhaps, size has no bearing on the fight in the dog. I submit "The Dog Park" as an example:
At the dog park,confrontation lurks everywhere. It's all about dominating the other guy. Little dogs puff out their rat-sized ribcages at the big dogs and the large breeds often just slip their tail between their legs and slink off. Laughable. And what is the deal with the CONSTANT butt sniffing? Fortunately we humans opt to shake hands, high five, knuckle it, kiss or hug each other. The whole sniffing thing is far too personal.
Riggins was constantly chasing around our other dogs that outweighed him by 4,40 and 50+ pounds respectively. No matter, he wanted a piece of them and I'm not just talking in a fighting sense.
Riggins (I generally use "Gangsta" spelling: Riggnz)would speed around the backyard so fast that I was afraid we'd lose him in one of Buddy's rather large discharges. A shitty way to go...to be sure. Buddy poops more than any dog I have ever had or have ever seen. Thankfully for us, it took the Budster about a week to be fully potty trained once we brought him home. I believe this is a record. Look it up.
The 4th Dog In is like that chemistry experiment we all did in high school that nearly blew up the lab. Riggins was only one dog and he upped the in-house litter to 4 for a few days, but took the energy level of the dog pack to a new height. Hail Riggins.
Woof
Riggins is about 5 months old. He is a Pomeranian-Chihuahua mix. This means he goes about 4 pounds soaking wet and has oversized ears that stand straight up and make him look like a baby fox. He quivers too....can't stop him.
As with all small dogs, he has a motor that DOES NOT STOP. I suspect this dog will probably need a daily dose of valium - like 2 grains - as it gets older in order to slow it down.
I have a theory that all dogs think they are the same size....or rather perhaps, size has no bearing on the fight in the dog. I submit "The Dog Park" as an example:
At the dog park,confrontation lurks everywhere. It's all about dominating the other guy. Little dogs puff out their rat-sized ribcages at the big dogs and the large breeds often just slip their tail between their legs and slink off. Laughable. And what is the deal with the CONSTANT butt sniffing? Fortunately we humans opt to shake hands, high five, knuckle it, kiss or hug each other. The whole sniffing thing is far too personal.
Riggins was constantly chasing around our other dogs that outweighed him by 4,40 and 50+ pounds respectively. No matter, he wanted a piece of them and I'm not just talking in a fighting sense.
Riggins (I generally use "Gangsta" spelling: Riggnz)would speed around the backyard so fast that I was afraid we'd lose him in one of Buddy's rather large discharges. A shitty way to go...to be sure. Buddy poops more than any dog I have ever had or have ever seen. Thankfully for us, it took the Budster about a week to be fully potty trained once we brought him home. I believe this is a record. Look it up.
The 4th Dog In is like that chemistry experiment we all did in high school that nearly blew up the lab. Riggins was only one dog and he upped the in-house litter to 4 for a few days, but took the energy level of the dog pack to a new height. Hail Riggins.
Woof
It's All About The Records......Man
Okay...sleep test came back today...interesting....very interesting....
Apparently I had 32.8 "events" per hour which is, well, bad....world class even. Diagnosis: Severe Central Sleep Apnea. This differs from obstructive apnea where muscles in the throat relax...in my case, my brain is misfiring. Yikes.
As Doc Eells was reading the statistical summary to me, I was actually laughing out loud. I mean what else was I supposed to do? When he was done spitting out all the facts, some of it in a language I had yet to understand, I looked at him and said,
"Well, is that a record?"
He laughed. Whew. Good crowd.
I was able to get a grand total of 32 minutes of REM sleep and could hold my breath for 40+ seconds on several occasions. This is quite a feat since I don't think I could hold my breath for that long if I tried to do this while wide awake and in the middle of the day.
There was all sorts of other gibberish and what not on the report about Sleep Scores, REM, Slow Sleep Wave (a new Bose product?) and Oxygen Percentage Levels that were alarmingly low. He looked at me and said, "I can't even believe you are awake right now."
I retorted, "Are you kidding, I am operating some heavy machinery later today at the airport." More laughter. I'm thinking of putting a gig together.
So I slink out of Eells office wondering just how all this is going to play out. Today, tomorrow, next month, a year from now...for the rest of my life.
I'm not gonna lie, if a dive shop were open, I'd be hooked up to a scuba tank right now inhaling oxygen...nothing like taking control of the situation. Maybe one of those oxygen chambers that Wacko-Jacko slept in? Hey, if they are comfy, why not?
Next step is going back to the sleep center to have 'em hook me up to an Auto SV Titration system (cpap?) and see how many times I can rock that joint even with oxygen.
For me, it's all about records.
Apparently I had 32.8 "events" per hour which is, well, bad....world class even. Diagnosis: Severe Central Sleep Apnea. This differs from obstructive apnea where muscles in the throat relax...in my case, my brain is misfiring. Yikes.
As Doc Eells was reading the statistical summary to me, I was actually laughing out loud. I mean what else was I supposed to do? When he was done spitting out all the facts, some of it in a language I had yet to understand, I looked at him and said,
"Well, is that a record?"
He laughed. Whew. Good crowd.
I was able to get a grand total of 32 minutes of REM sleep and could hold my breath for 40+ seconds on several occasions. This is quite a feat since I don't think I could hold my breath for that long if I tried to do this while wide awake and in the middle of the day.
There was all sorts of other gibberish and what not on the report about Sleep Scores, REM, Slow Sleep Wave (a new Bose product?) and Oxygen Percentage Levels that were alarmingly low. He looked at me and said, "I can't even believe you are awake right now."
I retorted, "Are you kidding, I am operating some heavy machinery later today at the airport." More laughter. I'm thinking of putting a gig together.
So I slink out of Eells office wondering just how all this is going to play out. Today, tomorrow, next month, a year from now...for the rest of my life.
I'm not gonna lie, if a dive shop were open, I'd be hooked up to a scuba tank right now inhaling oxygen...nothing like taking control of the situation. Maybe one of those oxygen chambers that Wacko-Jacko slept in? Hey, if they are comfy, why not?
Next step is going back to the sleep center to have 'em hook me up to an Auto SV Titration system (cpap?) and see how many times I can rock that joint even with oxygen.
For me, it's all about records.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Hit by a Truck
I have been down in bed the past few days which doesn't sit well with me at all. I like doing stuff...golf, tinkering, yard-rambo, playing with my dogs and what not. I'm not good at being stuck at home....I get cabin fever.
Whatever bug I have, it has indeed hit me like the proverbial truck - an 18 wheeler heading downhill loaded with bricks with the wind at it's back in my case. No brakes either.
I believe we can all agree that men and women react differently to sickness. Women quietly endure most of life's minor ailments and go about their life - they generally have no choice: house, kids, husband, and in some cases a job on top of all the family stuff require their attention. I make this statement: Women don't get any days off. Men? We are laughable creatures. We completely overreact to every little cough, hiccup, ache, pain, soreness, or cramp. If anyone disagrees, I welcome your argument.
Knowing I had not been feeling well, my mom raced over today with a thermometer to check on me and uttered the following lines in succession:
"You feel warm," as she felt my forehead. I rolled my eyes. Duh.
"Have you been drinking juice?" I nod affirmatively.
"Have you been eating." The last think I want to do.
"You should go to Quick Care." As if I want to sit in that hellhole of a place with germs practically visable in the air and sit there with 20 other people wheezing and coughing. There isn't enough Germ-X in the world to get me in there.
Doc Eells? I may have Janae call him tomorrow if I'm not feeling better.....perhaps a morphine and soda to kill the pain. Kidding. Sort of.
After her diagnosis, mom just sighed.....with that worried "mom" look. I am 47 years old and my mom had to see me....I couldn't stop her. I'm not gonna lie, it did cheer me up though. I am grateful for the relationship I have with my mom, and the one I had with my dad before he died in 1994. I'm lucky - we always got along....fabulously, lovingly, and usually were laughing a helluva lot.
My physical results came today in the mail and other than the sleep issue, and the fact I need to lose 10 pounds, okay 15, I'm in excellent health. This is what the doc tells me. This is what all of the bloodwork and tests tell him. So.....why does it feel like I have cancer today? I don't even know what cancer feels like, but my body aches so bad that it could give an aspirin a headache.
To top it off, Alec and Tiffany came down this weekend from SLC for a visit and I've been asleep for most of their time here. Sorry guys.
Whatever bug I have, it has indeed hit me like the proverbial truck - an 18 wheeler heading downhill loaded with bricks with the wind at it's back in my case. No brakes either.
I believe we can all agree that men and women react differently to sickness. Women quietly endure most of life's minor ailments and go about their life - they generally have no choice: house, kids, husband, and in some cases a job on top of all the family stuff require their attention. I make this statement: Women don't get any days off. Men? We are laughable creatures. We completely overreact to every little cough, hiccup, ache, pain, soreness, or cramp. If anyone disagrees, I welcome your argument.
Knowing I had not been feeling well, my mom raced over today with a thermometer to check on me and uttered the following lines in succession:
"You feel warm," as she felt my forehead. I rolled my eyes. Duh.
"Have you been drinking juice?" I nod affirmatively.
"Have you been eating." The last think I want to do.
"You should go to Quick Care." As if I want to sit in that hellhole of a place with germs practically visable in the air and sit there with 20 other people wheezing and coughing. There isn't enough Germ-X in the world to get me in there.
Doc Eells? I may have Janae call him tomorrow if I'm not feeling better.....perhaps a morphine and soda to kill the pain. Kidding. Sort of.
After her diagnosis, mom just sighed.....with that worried "mom" look. I am 47 years old and my mom had to see me....I couldn't stop her. I'm not gonna lie, it did cheer me up though. I am grateful for the relationship I have with my mom, and the one I had with my dad before he died in 1994. I'm lucky - we always got along....fabulously, lovingly, and usually were laughing a helluva lot.
My physical results came today in the mail and other than the sleep issue, and the fact I need to lose 10 pounds, okay 15, I'm in excellent health. This is what the doc tells me. This is what all of the bloodwork and tests tell him. So.....why does it feel like I have cancer today? I don't even know what cancer feels like, but my body aches so bad that it could give an aspirin a headache.
To top it off, Alec and Tiffany came down this weekend from SLC for a visit and I've been asleep for most of their time here. Sorry guys.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Sleep...Don't Take it For Granted
I used to sleep great. Now, not so much. In fact, a few years ago I could have fallen asleep on the tarmac of an airport with jet engines going off and a metal briefcase for a pillow and I would have grabbed 8, maybe 9 hours and felt great. Now? Sleep ain't so good.
I had my regular physical last month and my doc decided to send me to a Sleep Diagnostic Center since I've been tired too much lately even after 8 hours of slumber with 1000 count sheets, a goose down comforter, at least 6 pillows to strategically use to build a "sleep fort" and a fan to keep me cool at night.
A Sleep Center certainly isn't something my father's generation would understand. I guess I can't blame them - "The Greatest Generation" learned to sleep in foxholes, on battleships, in jungles, under the ocean in a submarine, smoked cigs without filters, drank black coffee and came back with tattoos of naked ladies on their forearms after kicking not on Hitler ass but the Japs too. These guys are and always have been the coolest dudes around. It's pathetic that I have to get tested for a sleep disorder compared to those guys.
Okay, for those of you who don't know what a sleep center is all about, you are going to find out right now.
A technician hooks up about 16 doohickeys to one's body. 4 on the head, 1 on your index finger, 2 on the face near the eyes, one on the jugular vein area, some on the chest, upper and lower legs, and way too much stuff around ones nose and mouth. This is to measure breathing and whether or not you breathe more through you mouth or nose. It takes about a half hour to get all the wires and diodes connected. I looked at the guy and quipped, "hey, I feel like an astronaut." He didn't laugh. Tough crowd.
The rooms are equipped with a single twin bed - it's a normal doctors office during the day, and the bed folds up into a wall. For some reason, before going, I envisioned row after row of bleary eye fat guys living dormitory style for a single night in a big gym wathcing a movie before dozing off. Nope. We all get our own crib. Me? I need a night light but not for the boogeyman. If I wake in a strange place in the middle of the night and can't make out up or down or where the hell I am, I usually panic like a whore in church. I pulled the blinds up a titch and got a nice beam from the sodium vapor lights in the next door parking lot.
Now all the wires sort of gather near the back of one's head to be plugged into a larger contraption that fortunately isn't manufactured by Acme (Wiley Coyote's preferred vendor). Once plugged in, the tech goes, "Okay, buzz if you need anything." Falling asleep was a tad more difficult than at home but I managed to do it. I woke up a number of times having pulled all sorts of wires out only to be scolded to keep them on. Like I know what I'm doing when I'm asleep? Once I called out because baby needed water. LOL
5am rolled around and I'm out of there. Some 815 pages of data was compiled - I don't know if that's good or bad? I got home at 530am and went back to bed. I get my results next week. I may have sleep apnea - if I do I would need to wear a mask that hooks up to an oxygen machine to make sure my body gets enough O during the night. The video camera in the room isn't for the sleep test, it's too keep everyone honest and ensure no hanky panky goes on....with a twin bed in a sleep center? What is the world coming to?
So....to those of you who don't sleep well, or snore and keep your partner awake, nightime can be difficult, stressful, and sleepless.
I gotta go take a nap now.
I had my regular physical last month and my doc decided to send me to a Sleep Diagnostic Center since I've been tired too much lately even after 8 hours of slumber with 1000 count sheets, a goose down comforter, at least 6 pillows to strategically use to build a "sleep fort" and a fan to keep me cool at night.
A Sleep Center certainly isn't something my father's generation would understand. I guess I can't blame them - "The Greatest Generation" learned to sleep in foxholes, on battleships, in jungles, under the ocean in a submarine, smoked cigs without filters, drank black coffee and came back with tattoos of naked ladies on their forearms after kicking not on Hitler ass but the Japs too. These guys are and always have been the coolest dudes around. It's pathetic that I have to get tested for a sleep disorder compared to those guys.
Okay, for those of you who don't know what a sleep center is all about, you are going to find out right now.
A technician hooks up about 16 doohickeys to one's body. 4 on the head, 1 on your index finger, 2 on the face near the eyes, one on the jugular vein area, some on the chest, upper and lower legs, and way too much stuff around ones nose and mouth. This is to measure breathing and whether or not you breathe more through you mouth or nose. It takes about a half hour to get all the wires and diodes connected. I looked at the guy and quipped, "hey, I feel like an astronaut." He didn't laugh. Tough crowd.
The rooms are equipped with a single twin bed - it's a normal doctors office during the day, and the bed folds up into a wall. For some reason, before going, I envisioned row after row of bleary eye fat guys living dormitory style for a single night in a big gym wathcing a movie before dozing off. Nope. We all get our own crib. Me? I need a night light but not for the boogeyman. If I wake in a strange place in the middle of the night and can't make out up or down or where the hell I am, I usually panic like a whore in church. I pulled the blinds up a titch and got a nice beam from the sodium vapor lights in the next door parking lot.
Now all the wires sort of gather near the back of one's head to be plugged into a larger contraption that fortunately isn't manufactured by Acme (Wiley Coyote's preferred vendor). Once plugged in, the tech goes, "Okay, buzz if you need anything." Falling asleep was a tad more difficult than at home but I managed to do it. I woke up a number of times having pulled all sorts of wires out only to be scolded to keep them on. Like I know what I'm doing when I'm asleep? Once I called out because baby needed water. LOL
5am rolled around and I'm out of there. Some 815 pages of data was compiled - I don't know if that's good or bad? I got home at 530am and went back to bed. I get my results next week. I may have sleep apnea - if I do I would need to wear a mask that hooks up to an oxygen machine to make sure my body gets enough O during the night. The video camera in the room isn't for the sleep test, it's too keep everyone honest and ensure no hanky panky goes on....with a twin bed in a sleep center? What is the world coming to?
So....to those of you who don't sleep well, or snore and keep your partner awake, nightime can be difficult, stressful, and sleepless.
I gotta go take a nap now.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Train Wreck at TPC Summerlin
I love to play golf. I love to play golf in all sorts of weather. I can play in the chilly days of January and Febuary. I can play golf on the 3 days of the year that it rains here in Las Vegas. I have played with snow on the ground in Utah. I have trekked the links in Vail during a nasty hailstorm with my late and dear, dear friend Mark Neis (Each time I think of Mark, it just makes me cry and I'll blog about his beautiful big heart and the children he and his wife adopted from Russia only to see his life cut short by cancer at 41 at a later time), and I love to play in the blistering heat of Southern Nevada in the summer months when the temperature exceeds 110 degrees.....I actually love summertime since no one is on the course in the afternoon and we can easily get in 27 if we tee off as late as 4pm. The one thing I don't like to play in his the wind. Hawaiian wind, Nevada wind, California wind, Texas wind.. the wind gets in my head and I start overcompensating...overthinking, overswinging....I'm a basket case. The wind is worse than playing golf early in the morning. Why anyone would want to be "first off" at 6am utterly confounds me. I played that early a handful of times, and frankly, I sleepwalk through the entire round....don't even remember it later in the day. Rivals will make morning tee-times just to throw me off since I usually don't hit the sack until 1am or later.
So....I have been staring out my window at work all week waiting for the wind to die down. At times it actually howled in my office so I knew that wasn't the sign I was looking for. So my golf pals and I decided to just do it anyway.....the wind be damned and play at 3pm today. Ha! Old Man Bill was the starter at the club and he's like a hundred years old and by the late afternoon, he is one sip of coffee away from pissing his pants. Frankly, I don't know how he finds he way out of the parking lot at night. He is a very nice guy though, but the wind had him thoroughly messed up too. He asked us to start on the back nine. Uh oh. That NEVER works for me. I need to start at #1 since that where my brain says we should start. Starting at 10 really screws me up. We've dubbed holes, 10 through 12 as Amen Corner since they will eat you alive on a calm day, let alone trying to play in a tornado and taking our first hacks of the day/week. I got rocked like J Guth in his first start of the year for the Orioles....I took a quadruple bogey on 10. This means I shot an 8 on a par 4. My previous worst ever on this hole had been a 6, best was a 4 so an 8 was sort of like getting kicked in the balls right off the bat(I actually had this done to me one other time this week (hypothetically speaking)on Monday by a breach of loyalty by someone that pissed me off so much that I did the whole jewish thing and tore my shirt to signify this person is dead to me [I think that's what the jews do or else I ruined a perfectly good E. Zegna dress shirt]. I digress. I also overreact but in comedic folly that is actually pretty entertaining.
So the torturous round today ended when I carded a 95. I have shot a 77 on this course and should be between that number and an 82. There were several times I felt like throwing my entire bag of clubs into one of the several ponds. Actually the pond on # 12 has a wedge at the bottom, the water on #16 has a 2 iron rusting beneath the surface. My old club, Canyon Gate easily has a set of clubs littered throughout their pond system. Good thing I have toned it down A LOT over the past decade.
So here I sit....tired... my lips are chapped, my face red from windburn, my golf ego is in shambles....
Janae...hurry home.
P.S. Acknowedgement: Steve beat me by one shot....another dagger in my back. More blood loss.
So....I have been staring out my window at work all week waiting for the wind to die down. At times it actually howled in my office so I knew that wasn't the sign I was looking for. So my golf pals and I decided to just do it anyway.....the wind be damned and play at 3pm today. Ha! Old Man Bill was the starter at the club and he's like a hundred years old and by the late afternoon, he is one sip of coffee away from pissing his pants. Frankly, I don't know how he finds he way out of the parking lot at night. He is a very nice guy though, but the wind had him thoroughly messed up too. He asked us to start on the back nine. Uh oh. That NEVER works for me. I need to start at #1 since that where my brain says we should start. Starting at 10 really screws me up. We've dubbed holes, 10 through 12 as Amen Corner since they will eat you alive on a calm day, let alone trying to play in a tornado and taking our first hacks of the day/week. I got rocked like J Guth in his first start of the year for the Orioles....I took a quadruple bogey on 10. This means I shot an 8 on a par 4. My previous worst ever on this hole had been a 6, best was a 4 so an 8 was sort of like getting kicked in the balls right off the bat(I actually had this done to me one other time this week (hypothetically speaking)on Monday by a breach of loyalty by someone that pissed me off so much that I did the whole jewish thing and tore my shirt to signify this person is dead to me [I think that's what the jews do or else I ruined a perfectly good E. Zegna dress shirt]. I digress. I also overreact but in comedic folly that is actually pretty entertaining.
So the torturous round today ended when I carded a 95. I have shot a 77 on this course and should be between that number and an 82. There were several times I felt like throwing my entire bag of clubs into one of the several ponds. Actually the pond on # 12 has a wedge at the bottom, the water on #16 has a 2 iron rusting beneath the surface. My old club, Canyon Gate easily has a set of clubs littered throughout their pond system. Good thing I have toned it down A LOT over the past decade.
So here I sit....tired... my lips are chapped, my face red from windburn, my golf ego is in shambles....
Janae...hurry home.
P.S. Acknowedgement: Steve beat me by one shot....another dagger in my back. More blood loss.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
American Idol Thoughts
Our family has always liked watching American Idol. We laugh out loud during the audition phase which usually last a couple of weeks. We then sort of pick our favorites during the Hollywood weeks, and every now and then, someone you sort of forgot about blows the doors off all of the other singers...or loses like Michael Johns. Janae had a hard time with that one.
Janae and I are always saying to each other that there is so much talent in the world. Of all the things that I have been blessed to be able to do and have, the one thing I truly miss not being able to do is sing. Sure I can sing and even do so without restraint, but it doesnt sound so good as anyone who sits in front of me in church will attest. I just go low and deep, and when Brother Whatshisname (Stewart) who does the music gets alittle crazy with his choice of songs, I just sort of humm along. Give us something we know!!!
Okay....some Idol thoughts that have been long overdue....a thousand apologies....
David Archuletta
The kid is 17 years old and looks 12 but he sure can belt out a song. Wow.
As each week goes by I am blown away by how well this kid is holding up to the pressure AND singing some pretty decent songs.
Gothic Chick with Irish Accent
The Irish accent bothers me a lot....I can't take it seriously. She sounds as if she could be the Lucky Charms guy's girlfriend. Disclaimer: I do use Irish Spring to stay fresh and clean.
Have you seen her husband in the audience? He has tattoo's all over his face. What sort of bloke would ink up his face (besides Mike Tyson)? She's a bit unattractive too...bunny teeth and the hair parted down the middle reminds me of Morticia Adams....those of you in your late 40's will remember the show The Adams Family. The writers had to be on drugs back then...Flintstones, Gomer Pyle, Bewitched...The Green Hornet....I liked it when Kato would always attack the GH to keep him on his toes.
Kristy Lee Cook
I never even listen to this girl. There is something about her eyes that bother me and she dresses like a slutty Tennessee prom queen. Hey, that's just my opinion. And what's with all the barefeet stuff? Is she channeling Britney Spears for the white-ho look?
Brooke White
Probably the nicest AI contestant of all time. I like when she gives the "shooba" face and puts her bottom lip out when Simon disses her. I actually like Brooke and especially admire he guitar and piano work as she sings. No way in hell that I could sing and play an instrument. No way. She make it look easy. I'd buy her stuff.
Syesha Mercado
Now this little gal can belt it out but she sort of gets lost since her peronality is sort of bland. I added her Whitney Houston song she did a few weeks ago to my Itunes. Few AI are honored this way. She's good.
David Cook
Is it just me or does David Cook look alittle.....off kilter? His hair is an absolute mess...it always looks like he just woke up. Face is puffy, day or two growth of stubble carefully trimmed, and wrinkled clothes....the new grunge look? He can really sing but when he holds a note for a long time, his face contorts into a beastie sort of look. Yikes.
Mop Head
Now this young man needs a kick in the rear end and a haircut (geez I sound a lot like my dad). His hair looks like a mop. In fact I am pretty sure he's done tomorrow. His performance was weak and no rasta head will ever win AI....like Fox doesn't work the votes anyway? Duh. It's all rigged.
So....who is going to win?
My predication is the David Cook will beat Brother Archuletta in the finals. Brooke White (Sister White) comes in 3rd.
I'm right. Look it up.
Janae and I are always saying to each other that there is so much talent in the world. Of all the things that I have been blessed to be able to do and have, the one thing I truly miss not being able to do is sing. Sure I can sing and even do so without restraint, but it doesnt sound so good as anyone who sits in front of me in church will attest. I just go low and deep, and when Brother Whatshisname (Stewart) who does the music gets alittle crazy with his choice of songs, I just sort of humm along. Give us something we know!!!
Okay....some Idol thoughts that have been long overdue....a thousand apologies....
David Archuletta
The kid is 17 years old and looks 12 but he sure can belt out a song. Wow.
As each week goes by I am blown away by how well this kid is holding up to the pressure AND singing some pretty decent songs.
Gothic Chick with Irish Accent
The Irish accent bothers me a lot....I can't take it seriously. She sounds as if she could be the Lucky Charms guy's girlfriend. Disclaimer: I do use Irish Spring to stay fresh and clean.
Have you seen her husband in the audience? He has tattoo's all over his face. What sort of bloke would ink up his face (besides Mike Tyson)? She's a bit unattractive too...bunny teeth and the hair parted down the middle reminds me of Morticia Adams....those of you in your late 40's will remember the show The Adams Family. The writers had to be on drugs back then...Flintstones, Gomer Pyle, Bewitched...The Green Hornet....I liked it when Kato would always attack the GH to keep him on his toes.
Kristy Lee Cook
I never even listen to this girl. There is something about her eyes that bother me and she dresses like a slutty Tennessee prom queen. Hey, that's just my opinion. And what's with all the barefeet stuff? Is she channeling Britney Spears for the white-ho look?
Brooke White
Probably the nicest AI contestant of all time. I like when she gives the "shooba" face and puts her bottom lip out when Simon disses her. I actually like Brooke and especially admire he guitar and piano work as she sings. No way in hell that I could sing and play an instrument. No way. She make it look easy. I'd buy her stuff.
Syesha Mercado
Now this little gal can belt it out but she sort of gets lost since her peronality is sort of bland. I added her Whitney Houston song she did a few weeks ago to my Itunes. Few AI are honored this way. She's good.
David Cook
Is it just me or does David Cook look alittle.....off kilter? His hair is an absolute mess...it always looks like he just woke up. Face is puffy, day or two growth of stubble carefully trimmed, and wrinkled clothes....the new grunge look? He can really sing but when he holds a note for a long time, his face contorts into a beastie sort of look. Yikes.
Mop Head
Now this young man needs a kick in the rear end and a haircut (geez I sound a lot like my dad). His hair looks like a mop. In fact I am pretty sure he's done tomorrow. His performance was weak and no rasta head will ever win AI....like Fox doesn't work the votes anyway? Duh. It's all rigged.
So....who is going to win?
My predication is the David Cook will beat Brother Archuletta in the finals. Brooke White (Sister White) comes in 3rd.
I'm right. Look it up.
Janae Unplugged
I'm a bit cranky since Janae is out of town which means the house tips slightly while she is gone. Sure the kids have left the nest, but the nest still needs to be tended to and The King (me) needs to be fed and what not. Since I'm color blind, I have to select my clothing carefully lest the office staff give me odd looks. When Janae is gone, I keep it simple: white or black golf shirts and tan slacks....even I can't mess that one up.
Janae is at a quilting camp in the Ozarks, wherever that is... I just envision people without a full set of teeth, bad hair, and have one eyeball looking to the side. I'm right about this. Look it up.
She is at a place without cell phone service, no wireless internet, and you have to bring your own lamp to light your room. I am literally howling with laughter over this. Janae "unplugged" is an ususual situation....a once in a lifetime event really...sort of like that Halley's Comet that flies around every 76 years or so. Janae is marooned in the middle of the woods with her mom, her sister and some serious-as-a-heart-attack quilters. Janae a quilter you ask? No, not really. She will dispute this fact but I think the last quilt she made were Alec and Jake's baby blankets which should not be confused with a real quilt made up of dozens of squares and triangles and other geometric patterns.
I think I moved quilting frames from one house to another to another and then just used the wood for some cockamamy scout project. She never missed those frames until one day....."hey, have you seen my quilting frames?" I slink off toward the garage to give a look...."Uh, no honey, I don't see them. Didn't someone borrow them?" Heehee
Janae is at a quilting camp in the Ozarks, wherever that is... I just envision people without a full set of teeth, bad hair, and have one eyeball looking to the side. I'm right about this. Look it up.
She is at a place without cell phone service, no wireless internet, and you have to bring your own lamp to light your room. I am literally howling with laughter over this. Janae "unplugged" is an ususual situation....a once in a lifetime event really...sort of like that Halley's Comet that flies around every 76 years or so. Janae is marooned in the middle of the woods with her mom, her sister and some serious-as-a-heart-attack quilters. Janae a quilter you ask? No, not really. She will dispute this fact but I think the last quilt she made were Alec and Jake's baby blankets which should not be confused with a real quilt made up of dozens of squares and triangles and other geometric patterns.
I think I moved quilting frames from one house to another to another and then just used the wood for some cockamamy scout project. She never missed those frames until one day....."hey, have you seen my quilting frames?" I slink off toward the garage to give a look...."Uh, no honey, I don't see them. Didn't someone borrow them?" Heehee
Monday, April 7, 2008
Rebels Close Out Season in Top 10
After the Kansas victory over Memphis, I got to thinking....and using some BYU logic, I've determined that UNLV actually ended the year ranked number 6 in the country. It's true, look it up.
Here's how I got there....and it was easy:
#1 Kansas
#2 Memphis They lost to Kansas in the finals.
#3 UNC They lost to Kansas in the National Semi-finals
#4 Davidson They lost to Kansas in regional finals
#5 Villanova They lost to Kansas in regionals
#6 UNLV Barely lost in a thiller so you may want to consider moving them up higher, at least past Davidson. What state does Davidson even play in??????
Quad Erant Demonstradum
Here's how I got there....and it was easy:
#1 Kansas
#2 Memphis They lost to Kansas in the finals.
#3 UNC They lost to Kansas in the National Semi-finals
#4 Davidson They lost to Kansas in regional finals
#5 Villanova They lost to Kansas in regionals
#6 UNLV Barely lost in a thiller so you may want to consider moving them up higher, at least past Davidson. What state does Davidson even play in??????
Quad Erant Demonstradum
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Being Yard Rambo
One thing that I have always liked to do is tend to my yard. It all started back at our first house on Borla Drive right here in Las Vegas.
My neighbor across the street was always working in his yard, and going in and out of his garage on the weekends. Stuck in an office all week, I secretly admired his ability to keep the garage spotless, and the yard in tip-top shape. Since we didn't have any money back then to really do anything else on the weekends, I figured I could and should become a "Yard Rambo." When I ultimately made this decision, the garage became my lair. A place for me to do manly things like use a torch, oil up the chain saw (we had 3 trees that needed trimming), and have a "Man Shrine," aka "The workbench."
Back then, I loved working in my little yard. No Saturday is complete TO THIS DAY without at least 3 trips to Home Depot/Lowes/Star Nursery. More than once I have been asked for help by some lawyer-geek trying to fix his sprinkler problem. I guess I just have that "Yard Rambo" look.
From our little house on Borla, to a very nice lot on Abanico, to our present 1/2 acre on Alberti, I have always had great pleasure in working to make our house/yard/pool look as good as possible.
I'm lucky since I get to golf during the week with clients. I've always felt that golf on Saturday's had a couple of problems:
1) Golf courses are waaaaay too crowded with women and oriental people playing (they play really slow, ask anyone, it's true, look it up) sometimes in the same group. If I find this out, I usually just leave since there is no point in playing behind them. They refuse to allow anyone to "play through" which is proper golf course etiquette.
2) People that are generally nice guys show up on Saturday to play and insist on hitting brom the back tees.....and their final score is usually 100+. Of all the things that are bad in the world, hitting from the back tees without a handicap of 5 or less ranks in the top 5.
3) Father and Son Day at the Course. While a great concept, this duo,on any afternoon, also poses a problem. Dad wants to show the kid how to play and basically turns him into a crappy golfer who wants to play from the back tees. My advice to any Father? Get your kid some lessons from the club pro and stay out of his way.
All of the above lead to the dreaded 6 hour round. I'd rather spend my Saturday making my yard look good than hitting and waiting....hitting and waiting.....
Playing on Sunday? I quit playing on Sundays when I joined the church some 24 years ago. I still don't think it's that big of a deal to tee it up after going to church meetings but I refrain. There are A LOT of guys I know who travel on Sunday who don't think twice about all of the commerce that is required to get that jet off the ground, yet they look down at the poor guy who plays golf on Sunday as one who has sacrificed his soul. Me? I don't care what you do on Sunday. I just want people to be happy and quit judging others.
I digress....And so....a long time ago I decided I would devote my Saturday's to making our yard tight. I have loved every single minute I have worked in my various yards. I know sprinklers, I know fertilizers, I know flowers and plants and trees. It has been fun tearing up yards and replanting... I have also been able to teach my sons the value of working in the yard.....the beauty we create.
Sure I could hire someone to do my yard, but the satisfaction I get from laboring in my own yard is second to none..... That pain I feel on a Sunday from working hard on Saturday? Awsome! We all know this feeling. It's the "you-know-you-worked-out" sort of ache. Everything from my calves to my butt, to my back (which gets worse each year), to my shoulders and forearms....I ache but it's a good kind of ache.
I hope that each of you can spend some time in your yard working it....feeling the earth in your hands....planting flowers.....getting into the zone and forgetting about the 10 bad things that lead off the local newscast. Embrace the little things God let's us have fun with....
Go and cultivate your garden.
My neighbor across the street was always working in his yard, and going in and out of his garage on the weekends. Stuck in an office all week, I secretly admired his ability to keep the garage spotless, and the yard in tip-top shape. Since we didn't have any money back then to really do anything else on the weekends, I figured I could and should become a "Yard Rambo." When I ultimately made this decision, the garage became my lair. A place for me to do manly things like use a torch, oil up the chain saw (we had 3 trees that needed trimming), and have a "Man Shrine," aka "The workbench."
Back then, I loved working in my little yard. No Saturday is complete TO THIS DAY without at least 3 trips to Home Depot/Lowes/Star Nursery. More than once I have been asked for help by some lawyer-geek trying to fix his sprinkler problem. I guess I just have that "Yard Rambo" look.
From our little house on Borla, to a very nice lot on Abanico, to our present 1/2 acre on Alberti, I have always had great pleasure in working to make our house/yard/pool look as good as possible.
I'm lucky since I get to golf during the week with clients. I've always felt that golf on Saturday's had a couple of problems:
1) Golf courses are waaaaay too crowded with women and oriental people playing (they play really slow, ask anyone, it's true, look it up) sometimes in the same group. If I find this out, I usually just leave since there is no point in playing behind them. They refuse to allow anyone to "play through" which is proper golf course etiquette.
2) People that are generally nice guys show up on Saturday to play and insist on hitting brom the back tees.....and their final score is usually 100+. Of all the things that are bad in the world, hitting from the back tees without a handicap of 5 or less ranks in the top 5.
3) Father and Son Day at the Course. While a great concept, this duo,on any afternoon, also poses a problem. Dad wants to show the kid how to play and basically turns him into a crappy golfer who wants to play from the back tees. My advice to any Father? Get your kid some lessons from the club pro and stay out of his way.
All of the above lead to the dreaded 6 hour round. I'd rather spend my Saturday making my yard look good than hitting and waiting....hitting and waiting.....
Playing on Sunday? I quit playing on Sundays when I joined the church some 24 years ago. I still don't think it's that big of a deal to tee it up after going to church meetings but I refrain. There are A LOT of guys I know who travel on Sunday who don't think twice about all of the commerce that is required to get that jet off the ground, yet they look down at the poor guy who plays golf on Sunday as one who has sacrificed his soul. Me? I don't care what you do on Sunday. I just want people to be happy and quit judging others.
I digress....And so....a long time ago I decided I would devote my Saturday's to making our yard tight. I have loved every single minute I have worked in my various yards. I know sprinklers, I know fertilizers, I know flowers and plants and trees. It has been fun tearing up yards and replanting... I have also been able to teach my sons the value of working in the yard.....the beauty we create.
Sure I could hire someone to do my yard, but the satisfaction I get from laboring in my own yard is second to none..... That pain I feel on a Sunday from working hard on Saturday? Awsome! We all know this feeling. It's the "you-know-you-worked-out" sort of ache. Everything from my calves to my butt, to my back (which gets worse each year), to my shoulders and forearms....I ache but it's a good kind of ache.
I hope that each of you can spend some time in your yard working it....feeling the earth in your hands....planting flowers.....getting into the zone and forgetting about the 10 bad things that lead off the local newscast. Embrace the little things God let's us have fun with....
Go and cultivate your garden.
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