It's All About Me

2011

2011-01-05T12:33:00.000-08:00

And to think the Y2K bug was all that 11 years ago. Time flies.

I'm glad to put 2010 in the rear view mirror for a myriad of reasons and look forward to a healthy and exciting 2011.

2010's highs and lows were a bit of a rollercoaster ride that I hadn't experienced in decades. I left a job where I spent 22+ years to start my own company during the greatest recession in a generation (or 2). Leaving my former place of employment was a difficult decision and caused much strife within the extended family with whom I used to work with. At the end of the day, it's just a job and our family relationships are far more important than where I go M-F. I'm glad and fortunate that we've been able to move on and keep the family together - time is a good healer.

My nephew and business partner and I continue to work much harder than we ever imagined. Starting a business from scratch required significantly more effort than we ever thought. We laugh about it now, but 6 months ago we were just 2 guys sitting in an empty room with a table and 2 chairs....leftover from the previous tenant. The only breathtaking technology we possessed were our cellular phones. As days and weeks went by, we found ourselves ordering furniture, computers, software, copiers, printers, office supplies and meeting with internet providers, graphic artists and ad agency folks. Slowly but surely things moved along.....we even wrote a national account in 2010 that helped put us on the map - a small dot on a big map but on the map nonetheless. We hope to build on the success we had in 2010....time will tell. We're happy and laugh a lot - so we have that going for us....which is nice.

2010 also saw Alec graduate from the U of Utah with a degree in physics and be accepted to medical school. He is in heaven learning all the things needed to become a physician and I'm very happy for he and his wife.

Jake's return in late, late '09 allowed us to spend 2010 with him again after serving 2 years in Ecuador on a church mission. Having him around means we laugh a lot, talk sports a lot and watch a lot of ESPN. He's enjoying his time working as a student manager for the Runnin' Rebel basketball team. He too is working harder than I believe he thought this postion would require.....he's gone at least 6 days a week plus attending UNLV. His plate is full and he's a wonderful son.

The biggest and best news of 2010 was the birth of our granddaughter Reese in September. She is a blessing to our family and having spent the past 5 weeks here in Las Vegas, it was VERY hard to see her leave and go back to Northern Nevada with her parents. Thanks to technology, we're able to skype and see pictures of her almost daily.

As the year wound down, as always, I reflected on the highs and lows of 2010 and while the emotional rollercoaster went higher, sped faster and lower than ever, it also allowed me to see what I am made of....as a father, grandfather, husband, son, brother, in-law, businessman and friend. Adversity is a good teacher and 2010 provided plenty of challenges yet also some of the most wonderful events a human being can experience.

Hail 2010 - you weren't just good.....you were GREAT.

Here's to a more of the same in 2011.

Turning 50

2010-12-07T10:32:00.000-08:00

I turned 50 years old the other day and at the same time I felt, all at once, relieved (that I made it), sad (that 1/2 my life has been lived - yes I plan on making it to 100), and happy since I feel damn good about my health and my station in life.

While no one can lay claim to having a perfect life, I must confess that mine has turned out better than I could have ever hoped.

Kids? Check
Good kids? Check
Healthy kids? Check
Happily married? Check
Happily married for 25 years? Check
In reasonably good shape? Check
Career? Check
Problems, worries? Check (no life is without them my friends)

And so the usual contemplative moments came when turning 50 and prompted an honest appraisal of where I'm at..... wanting to do better in all areas of my life is a given. There is much to improve on. With age come mistakes, the wisdom of knowing some of life's secrets through trial and error.....and more error. The wisdom that comes with age is knowing how little we really know about life.

I have much to be thankful for. Many have lived longer and many have lived shorter lives but this is my life.

And remember......It's all about me.

Work, Work, Work

2010-11-18T15:11:00.000-08:00

I have been so busy with starting up a new company with my business partner that I looked up at the calendar today and realized that we have been at this business for four months now. Seems like yesterday when we resigned and immediately jumped off the cliff into the abyss - sort of like when Butch and Sundance leaped into the river while being chased by the Columbian army. Granted our escape wasn't as dramatic or life threatening, but a leap it was nonetheless.

As with any big life change you quickly find out who has your back and who could care less.

The last 4 months have flown by and have been a nonstop adventure full of challenges, laughs, disappointment, success and more laughs. To say that I'm content with where I am would be an understatement. I miss many of the people I used to work with - some for 20+ years - however this emotion is tempered by the absence of communication I've had with them over the past 120 days. Such is life. Friends often hastily part ways not knowing they will never see each other again. Life's playbook is complicated.

On the flip side, we've met a lot of wonderful new friends at our business park and have developed relationships built on trust, friendship, pranks, and downright hard work. Changing environments has been refreshing, uplifting, motivating, fun yet also challenging and tiring - all at the same time.

I've missed my beloved golf all these months and I could count the number of times I've played on one hand....and usually in a tournament meeting prospective clients and passing out business cards. I've also had more breakfast, lunch and dinner meetings in the past 4 months than I did in the past 10 years. This is good and bad. Good for business, bad for the waistline.

Enter Markus.

My fitness trainer.

He has me doing stuff that I always thought I could easily pull off. During our first session we laughed like hell at how breathless I was after he put me through some circuit training. I'm not 20 anymore. Hell, I'm not even 40 anymore and to say that desk time, sofa time and too many meals at Cut, Flemings, et al have combined to make realize that many hours of gym work is necessary. I'm on week #3 - started slow and have good days and bad days. Having someone to push you to work harder is significantly more difficult than going to the gym alone where you can move at your own pace, watch some TV, grab a drink, and move from one piece of equipment to another at your leisure. With Markus it's all commando-style training and it HURTS. I've been sore for weeks now but in different spots. We're doing all sorts of crazy routines that look easy but kick my ass. I joked that the first day of training I was sweating cream cheese and diet coke. Things have improved although I do dread the whole "Getting to the Gym Process." Like most activities, once you're there, it's easy. It's all the stuff your mind whispers to you like, "You're too busy, too tired....go home and take the night off." Tempting I know.

Thanksgiving is next week - hard to believe that the holidays are already upon us. Christmas stuff is next and that brings an entirely different stress into spousal relationships. Let's be honest, guys want less everything; less lights, fewer ornaments, fewer presents and less stuff to do. It's ingrained in our DNA. Women on the otherhand want more lights, more trees, more decorations, more presents and more events. Their to-do lists are overwhelming. Guys shoulders tend to slouch more this time of year, our gait begins to shuffle, shirts are untucked more often and the smart ones know just to keep their mouths shut and go along with the festivities. Like many things in life, you just have to suck it up and get to work.

We're very excited to see our granddaughter next week.

Alec and Tiffany are coming down for Thanksgiving and mom and daughter will be here through the new year while Alec will head back to school after Thanksgiving to finish up his first semester of medical school before coming home for the rest of the holidays.

Jake continues to enjoy his duties as a student manager for the undefeated Runnin' Rebel basketball team. He too is working hard like the rest of us and I look forward to the day he comes to work with me in the not so distant future.

Work. It never ends. And that's not a bad thing.

Airports.....Again

2010-10-28T11:48:00.000-07:00

Why is it that airports provide some of the best people watching experiences of all time? PEOPLE act STRANGE at airports - no question about that. I even act weird once I hit the terminal....constantly checking and rechecking for my wallet, keys, glasses, sunglasses, boarding pass etc..... At the airport, I become a checking machine.

Then there is your stuff; your travel stuff....a carry on bag and/or a briefcase. Yesterday's jaunt to the Bay Area was a one day affair so I just had my leather briefcase but I must have checked a dozen times that I had that sucker right next to me. Don't want to lose that thing to the imaginary thieves and bandits stalking our nation's airports.

Airports are great cauldron's of humanity; people there are all sizes, from all races and religions and have their own built-in quirks.

Like me.

Of course I'm tolerant of myself, so I enjoy watching other people navigate their way through the airport. From the curbside circus of mismatched luggaged to check-in to the security screening area, our airports are a mess. First of all, they are all under construction of some sort so even driving to my own airport is a white knuckle experience. And attempting to leave Las Vegas on a Sunday morning is like trying to cross the US-Mexico border on the weekend: Pure Chaos.

Our trip was a quickie of the business variety and it was a short hop from Las Vegas to Oakland. Of course it took longer to drive to our meeting than it took to fly 500 miles tells you something of the traffic and road maze that exists in the bay area. The bottom line is that the trip was a success.

And that people watching in Airports never gets old.

Weekend Warriors

2010-10-18T09:23:00.000-07:00

Janae and I had the pleasure of watching two of our nephew's little boys over the weekend. Trey and Bing are ages 11 and 7 respectively - they play organized football, organized basketball and unorganized other stuff.

Saturday Morning....early.... the sun was just cresting over the horizon and it was time for football. The location of the field required some advance planning and we input the location into the car navigation system so we were good to go. The boys wanted Jack-in-the Box french toast sticks for breakfast so that was stop #1. Within 60 seconds of getting the food out of the bag we had a maple syrup circus on our hands - literally. Stop #2 was at Walgreens to pick up wipes to soak up the Bing's syrup mess which was now expanding faster than the universe. Syrup is one of those things you can have for breakfast and hours later realize you have some on your sleeve or the inside of your elbow. Strange phenonmenon. Overwhelmed by syrup, we had tried our best to clean up Bing and the car in the parking lot. It was hysterical. I told him, "just think how good you'll smell when you get tackled." Meanwhile everything was sticking to him - wipes, napkins....and by the end of the game, dirt and grass managed to cling to him as well. When we got home we tossed him into the pool for 6 or 7 hours.

After 4 hours of football came 2+ hours of basketball. Thankfully Janae spared me that experience - I've never liked indoor sporting events and the noise level at youth basketball games is often louder than jet engines. Grandpa needed a break.

We relied on play station games, TV, pizza delivery and drive through service for most of the weekend except Sunday's BBQ which was awesome.

Since the kids go to a new school Monday morning was an adventure. I wasn't sure where the school was and the kids sort of knew where it was......somehow I managed to get them dropped off on time, with backpacks and lunch money.

My work is done.

Beach House A Go Go

2010-10-04T07:33:00.000-07:00

On Friday I was supposed to have a 10am meeting and then hop on the I-15 for a trip to Mexico with my new adopted family the Zobrists. Alas, 10am turned into more like 130pm and we didn't arrive in Rosarito until 830pm but since arriving we have done nothing but laugh, eat, laugh some more, play golf, watch football and gaze out upon the ocean. I love Mexico.

The border crossing into Tijuana was pure chaos.

Lights blaring, cars everywhere merging into some 3 lanes. One can drive into Mexico rather easily - no passport check, just a wave and a nod, but coming back across? I'm sure that will be mess and require a xanax. We'll see.

Sure I've been down here before, but this time, spending more than just a 1/2 day, I feel like it's my new home away from home. Had the best taco ever - Yaqui's....the newer one. Apparently there was bad blood between the original owners and there are 2 Yaqui's right across the street from one another. Dining tip: Go to the joint where the people are congregated and not the empty place. We did. GREAT authentic dining experience. I could even hear the dogs barking and cats meowing in the kitchen...

Golf at Bajamar was interesting. The course was in fine shape and the greens surprised me by being in such good condition but the eery thing was this: we didn't see another golfer on the course the entire round. Even though Richie, Mark and I played so-so, we had a great time. The highlight of the round was the bobcat we saw not 50 feet from our carts.

He was hunting the quail that were munching on grass seed on the teebox. Not seeing the fowl, I screeched to a halt, the quail went scrambling and then the bobcat's head and shoulders rose up from the bush.....he was likely pissed that we spooked the quail into scampering away. He looked at us (meanwhile I calculated I could probably outrun Mark) and then we watched him jog off. That was a first. If Garth were there, I'm sure he would have whipped out his knife and gone for the kill adding yet another pelt for his wall.

The trip home was far more adventurous and entertaining. The living theater part was the 2 hour wait to cross the border. Peddlers were selling everything imaginable from authentic Mexican art (?) to authentic Mexican pinatas to food and drink. The trick is to not make eye contact with them or else you're toast. I kept my sunglasses on and stared straight ahead while listening to the Eagles-'Skins game on satellite radio. I'm not good at waiting in line so the 2 hours spent in traffic was akin to a death sentence and quite uncomfortable for me. In fact, my right ankle is sore from braking yesterday. After getting through that bottleneck, we stopped north of the border, near Temecula, and bought a bunch of fresh avocados, peppers and tomatoes to make some homemade guacomole for MNF. This time of year, life revolves around football, that's just the way it is.

The real fun was when we stopped in the middle of nowhere to switch drivers.....unknowlingly my phone fell out of the car, we drove forward 100' when I hollered, "My phone!" Sure enough, not only did I drop it, but we also managed to run over it. Crushed. All this while I was dodging Wal-Mart semi-trucks that were pulling up in the exit lane. Nuts. I shouted the obligatory, "*$()@#*#&$&@!" and after about 30 seconds of that, I was laughing. I just blamed Janae.

The tough part of replacing the phone is the hassle that ATT/Apple will give me. I usually have to make 2 or 3 trips in order for them to straighten out who exactly is supposed to sell me my phone, and then comes the setup hassle. Admittedly, I'm not a tech guy so reprogramming/uploading all my stuff will be stressful and laborious. Uggh....just the thought of having to deal with the ATT people.....Maybe I'll just have Janae do it....

Mexico was great. I even managed, fortunately, to handle the wait to cross the border without freaking out the border guard and requiring a full blown strip search.

Now that we'll be spending quite a bit of time down there....

....expect more stories.

Good ones.

Flying in 2010

2010-09-27T08:29:00.000-07:00

Traveling by airplane in 2010 continues to be an adventure.

The corporate jet (Southwest Airlines) continues to be the best way to fly around the western United States since their schedules are so convenient. SWA has come a long way since the days of just lining up to be first on the plane. Boarding the aircraft has got easier and while it still resembles a flying bus terminal, the convenience cannot be overlooked.

Some observations.....

I was walking behind an older gentleman yesterday on the way back from Reno when he stopped and let out a huge marlboro-cured cough...

We all held our breath and turned away as we walked through the invisable mucus-nicotine cloud. Then came the shake down. Security. I usually mess this part up but the past few trips I've managed to strip down and get through without a forgotten belt buckle or gum wrapper setting off the metal detector. As I was collecting my stuff, an elderly woman was being put through the ringer off to the side. I thought, "Is this really the best use of our security resources?" This poor old gal was being turned around, patted down and her carry-on was being searched. I say again, "When was the last time a plane was hijacked by anyone other than Muslim extremists?" Yeah, profile THOSE guys. I have no problem with that.

The boarding area is also pretty cool. You have a literal smorgasborg of people coming and going. Cowboys, hippies, bikers, biker chicks, businessmen, tourists, youth groups, female softball players and jokesters like Jake and I who can't keep our mouths shut and run commentary on the living theater going on all around us.

Some rules and observations about flying in 2010:

1. Respect the aisle and window seat people. They either paid for or were sharp enough to get an 'A' or 'B' boarding pass. Middle seat people need to keep their knees and elbows to themselves - no hoarding space over the imaginary line of demarkation. This can make for an unpleasant flight for window and aisle people.

2. Try not to cough your lungs up on the plane. Since we are all breathing the same air, I've found it impossible to hold my breath for the duration of any flight therefore please be kind to your fellow travelers inside the long aluminum tube. Same with sneezing - cover your mouth.
3. Not everyone has to stand up once the plane reaches the gate. We don't all leave at once. This leads to #4.
4. The people in row 11 get to exit the plane before the people in row 12. Hold your horses and allow an orderly exit.
5. Rolling of eyes is permitted when people try stuff their oversized carry-on into an overhead bin.
6. Dont' stop in the middle of the jetway to adjust your bag, purse or satchel....you will be overrun by the guy in aisle 12.
7. Why is it that my bags are always the last to appear on the carousel?
8. I like the way Southwest pilots make the turn and then hit the gas on takeoff. Other airline pilots seem to want to make the turn, come to a full stop, put their foot on the brakes and then gas it up.
9. The flight attendants on SWA are too cheerful.
10. Hour long flights always seem so much faster than driving but door to door, it's only about 1/2 has fast.

Had a great weekend in Reno and got to meet my granddaughter for the first time.

Can't buy that thrill.

Golf.....Again

2010-09-17T07:51:00.001-07:00

I've been AWOL from my beloved golf for the past 2 months having played only 1 time in the past 60 days and that was a quick 9 hole jaunt.

The reason of course is that starting a new business requires 100% of my time however yesterday I was thrown into the mix again; a golf tournament with a lot of potential clients and some new friends I've met over the past few months. We had a great time and shot a 61 - finished in the top 1/3 of the pack. There were the usual scores of 55, 57, etc... that were immediately called into question by everyone who shot above that number. A 55 would require a birdie on every hole but one. Suspect? Yeah I think so. No matter, I had a great time, met some wonderful people, picked up some leads and got some much needed relaxation away from the office.

Our little Reese had her first checkup and she's slightly jaundiced but instead of using the lights, she just needs to get some sun. Some natural vitamin D ought to help her out. She's lost a few ounces since birth which is normal and the kids are dealing with the whims of a 4 day old baby. Oh how I don't miss those days!

As the HOA Prez I have my first homeowner issue. Apparently homeowner #1 washed paint and drywall mud in his front yard....it ran down the gutter and pooled in front of homeowner #2's house....this means that everytime they drive into or out of their home, they get white paint/plaster on their tires which treks onto our newly redone streets, into their garage and, holy smokes, into their house.....So now I have to go and bust the balls of homeowner #1 in a nice way and tell him to get his mess cleaned up. We'll see how this goes over.

The best neighbor dispute was at my previous residence. We lived at the end of a cul-de-sac next to a postal worker for about 8 years. As an alltime dog lover, our pack of dogs, 2 chocolate labs (Woofy and Digger), and our Rotty (Roxy) would love to howl at the sounds of fire truck and police sirens. They would also occasionally bark - like dogs will do. This would drive my neighbor crazy to the point where he would put nasty letters in my mailbox. On weekends, after drinking, he would rip branches from our trees that had crept over on his side....our poor trees. He would then toss the branches back over the fence in a drunken heave/fart. Hilarious. Janae would bake him cookies and apologize. Me? I wanted to duke it out with the guy. In fact, on many occasion I felt the strong urge to call people out, even family members, but Janae would always be the voice of reason. Me? Not so much.

Work is going better than expected although the stress of putting business on the books each month will probably never fully go away - it never did before so why expect anything different?

Golf? Now that I got a little taste of playing again, I'll be out tomorrow for sure. And Saturday/Sunday/Monday football? A new grandbaby?

Life is good.

When We Were Young

2010-09-15T10:32:00.000-07:00

I have been remiss in attending to my blog. Starting up a new business and the drumbeat of a new granddaughter will do that to you.

I'm happy to report that our first granddaughter, Reese Elizabeth Runyon, was born on September 13th at 12:20am. Hello World!

Of course once a baby is born, everyone, especially the women in the family, gets all jazzed up and out come the old scrapbooks and photo albums to see who the baby resembles.

Guys are different. We tend to think that most babies look the same when asked "Who does the baby look like?" Then go on about our way.....usually back to the game on TV.

My granddaughter has, to this point, 30 pairs of shoes. This is interesting to me since she obviously can't walk. Style points for babies cannot be discounted. I understand a women's need to have their baby, their little daughter, dolled up and dressed to the nines all the time. I guess most guys can appreciate this fact but left to our own resources, babies whould look more like Bam Bam from The Flintstones.....a diaper being the only required piece of attire from birth to age 3 or whenever potty training is complete.

Admittedly, I look forward to seeing my little grandbaby all decked out in matching shoes, dress, a bow and whatever else girls wear at that age. Girls are utterly new to us having raised only boys. The learning curve is short though - we love our little Reese so much and I can't wait to hold her.

I came across photos last night of when I was a young man, holding Alec right after he was born. I know that he too will look back in a quarter century at the photo of he and Reese meeting for the first time.....what a great experience.

Alec and Reese - 2010

Alec and Keith - 1986

Alec and Keith - 1987/First Steps

Further proof that youth is wasted on the young is that Alec attended to his wife and daughter, grabbed a few hours of sleep, and then took a med school exam at 8am the very same day. Ah, the beauty of being young, in love, and with your entire adult life in front of you. I think we can all recall those wonderful, spirited, and carefree days of our romantic youth....enjoy them Alec and Tiffany, they go by fast.

Too fast.

The Dead Zone

2010-08-30T08:35:00.000-07:00

We're nearing the end of "The Dead Zone." This is the annual period of time where little or no meaningful sports takes place.

The Dead Zone pretty much ends when the traditional school year begins. Children going back to school. Parents are gleefully happy to see the kids out of the house and out from in front of the television set they have stared at for 3 months eating cheetos and drinking soda pop yet at the same time freaked out that junior is now in middle school or high school. Been there done that. Our sons are 23 and 21 and in medical school and college, respectively. We don't take pictures of them on the first day with new clothes on, hair slicked back, and toting new backpacks although I do miss the ceremony of those days....they went by so fast. Too fast. Like a once cute puppy growing into a monster pet chewing it's way through the house. It just happens.

A harbinger of the end of The Dead Zone is preseason football - it has been going on for 3 or 4 weeks now and the ONLY good thing about preseason football is that it means the real season is about to start.

Baseball's brutal 162 game schedule finally ends in a month and then we can all get stoked for the playoffs. Basketball is just around the corner; college hoops and the pros. The US Open tennis slam takes place now....It's like the planet is back on it's axis again. Oh, I forgot to mention hockey - it starts in a month or so.

Let's get down to the discussion of the proposed 18 game NFL schedule in 2011 or 2012 which is an increase of the current 16 game season. Players are complaining that it's already too long of a season. My response to that is simple: don't play then. There are thousands of athletes who would gladly put on the pads to play in the NFL. Going from 4 preseason games to 2 is fine for us fans and an 18 game regualar season would be awesome. Sure records will be broken by adding 2 more games but that same argument existed when the league went from 14 to 16 games some 30 years ago. That there may be a lockout next year is, frankly, freaking me out and it should freak out the players and owners too. If the players union and owners can't agree on a labor deal, then the future of the NFL and next year in particular is in jeopardy.

This Thursday college football kicks off. Jake and I love college football. We'll watch college football all day on Saturday and then watch the highlights at night until we fall asleep on the couch. College football don't have any preseason games and about the only way to make it to the national title game is to run the table - win all of your games. Until there is a college football playoff (PLEASE....in my lifetime), it's about the only way a team can be assured a crack at the title. Even then, like undefeated Utah and Boise State and Auburn of a few years ago found out, you need alittle luck on your side too.

The absence of a college playoff is astounding considering the revenue it would generate and that a true champion could be crowned and then the debate over who is better would finally be decided. This argument has been going on for years and will continue to go on.....sadly.

We've endured another Dead Zone. Let the games begin.

"Turn! Turn! Turn! (to Everything There Is a Season)",

2010-08-20T09:44:00.000-07:00

As a huge fan of music from the 1960's and 1970's I heard The Byrds "Turn! Turn! Turn!" this morning on the way to work and wanted to blog about the meaning of song to me. For those who don't know the song, the lyrics are noted below.

Suffice to say that in Las Vegas, the change of traditional seasons doesn't often allow the perspective that other areas of the country have - we don't go from steamy summers to crisp falls to winter wonderlands to spring thaws. For better or for worse, we live under a scorching sun 360 days a year and the heat that goes along with it. Our 10 days of winter ususally occur in January, following by a week of spring and 2 months of windstorms, then the heat sets in from April to November. Nice.

I am using the heat as a metaphor for absence of change that living in the desert brings. The subtle changes are just that - subtle, slow and often imperceptible to those of us who live here. That's why the song Turn, Turn, Turn had me humming it long after my radio had moved on to Peter Frampton.....

There have been some seismic life changes happen in our family over the past few months and just like the song says, there is a time for every purpose.

As I embark on a new business venture, I've left the weirdness of my past employer behind me. In the wake of that train wreck some relationships became collateral damage and were jetisoned but others were gained in the process. Alec and Tiffany have left Janae's (and mine) "Camelot" (Salt Lake City) and moved to Reno for medical school leaving friends and making new ones where his days are filled soaking up biochemistry, histology, and anatomy lectures that he loves so much. Tiffany is ready to bring their first child into the world within a month while our Jake-Jake is preparing for school at UNLV and to be one of the student team managers for the Runnin' Rebels basketball team that he loves so much. Janae continues to keep us all on track in her own wacky and wondeful way.

The song paints a picture of what life is really all about. Change. If you're not living, you're not changing (I just made that up, haha).

So read the words to the song and realize that stuff happens, shit happens, and then it starts all over again. Life is like that and that's what makes it so wonderful, sad, happy, funny, joyous, and fun.

Words-adapted from The Bible, book of Ecclesiastes
Music-Pete Seeger

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to build up,a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it's not too late

Med School

2010-08-16T04:36:00.001-07:00

We attended Alec's white coat ceremony the other day at the Nevada School of Medicine. The cloaking of each student with the white coat symbolizes their entry into the medical profession. The next day Alec was vaccinating kids at a free clinic. Nothing like being tossed right into the frying pan - here's your white coat and stethoscope, go draw some blood and give out some shots.

One of his fellow students fainted while attempting to draw blood so that will be a fun memory......for the rest of his life.

The class is small - only 62 people which is great for the students. I met at least 1/2 that many Deans, Assistant Deans, and professors. I believe this is a good place for Alec. We loved the Reno area too. They live in Sparks which is 15 minutes and a world away from The Biggest Little City in the World. Rolling hills, the Sierra Nevada's to the west, a brilliant blue sky......just like watching Bonanza when I was a kid. The school has two new medical school buildings opening soon; one this month and one next year so the facilities are top-notch. He'll get to experience rural medicine in some small areas of the state and also spend a great deal of time in Las Vegas at University Medical Center which will be a circus - imagine the ER on any night in Las Vegas.....go ahead, think of all the crazy stuff that happens in this town....I can't wait to hear the stories.

The life experiences of the class of 2014 are so diverse; 28 languages are spoken, 19 lived abroad for a period of time, many served medical missions outside of the United States...a neat group of young people. All seemed excited. What a fun adventure lies ahead for each of them.

Runyon & Woodbury

2010-08-09T09:23:00.000-07:00

Last week the Nevada DOI made us an official insurance agency.... so we got that going for us.....which is nice. Plus, we also got our name on the door, and on the building directory. No going back now.

Starting a company is an unbelievably tedious process but filled with comical moments, meetings with dozens of people (more comical moments), racing around town in 113 degree heat, and ordering everything from paper clips to office furniture to pizza....Finally, it's about time we got down to the real business of being in business and that is selling insurance. We are thisclose to that time.

I spent a few days in Oceanside but my head was in the surf thinking of all the stuff I needed to do. I spent some good time with the kids, daughter-in-law and wifey-poo before heading back to the circus.

Everyone is starting new stuff...

Jake got his official acceptance to UNLV so he's excited about that new adventure. He will be working as a student team manager for the Runnin' Rebels basketball program so he is more than fired up about that experience.

Alec began medical school TODAY so that is the continuation of his lifelong dream of becoming a surgeon. Their first day? Orientation and a trip to Lake Tahoe to bond. I'm jealous.

Janae as always is holding the fort down. I found it incredibly difficult while she was gone juggling all the things she does for our family from taking care of the 4 cats and 2 dogs to managing the people that come in and out of our lives each day. Man I was beat coming home from work only to have to do more work....and then find something to eat although my mom hooked me up with lots of good stuff.

We're all on a new journey of sorts and that has me mentally re-engaged. I'm excited for what is happening in the Runyon family....change is good.

Grandbaby #1 is due in 5 weeks....+/-

All In

2010-07-27T10:31:00.000-07:00

The family is Oceanside as I sit marooned in Las Vegas. I'll be joining them in a day or two however there is a story to tell. There is ALWAYS a story to tell.

I quit my job on a Friday and started my own firm exactly 8 days ago. My business partner and I have used the analogy of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid eluding capture many times since then to describe our predicament. The bandits were being chased by the law and ended up on a cliff with two choices: jump into the water or fight the army that was hot on their heels.

Butch Cassidy: Alright. I'll jump first.
Sundance Kid: No.
Butch Cassidy: Then you jump first.
Sundance Kid: No, I said.
Butch Cassidy: What's the matter with you?
Sundance Kid: I can't swim.
Butch Cassidy: Are you crazy? The fall will probably kill you.
Sundance Kid: Oh, shit...

We jumped

:-)

The Paradoxical Commandments

2010-07-21T06:16:00.001-07:00

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.
If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Do good anyway.
If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.
The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway.
The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.
Think big anyway.
People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.
Fight for a few underdogs anyway.
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.
People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.
Help people anyway.
Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you have anyway.
© 1968, 2001 Kent M. Keith

"The Paradoxical Commandments" were written by Kent M. Keith in 1968 as part of a booklet for student leaders. _________________________________________

Done Deal

2010-07-14T05:12:00.000-07:00

Las Vegas to Salt Lake City and back in 27 hours and not a hiccup....unusual for me.

As previously reported, I was towing a trailer full of baby furniture and loot from the shower and returning with some furniture and odds and ends from our place in SLC.

Not only did I pull off this transportation feat, there weren't even any close calls or stories to tell. None. In fact, I was so tired on the drive up, I placed our lives and the life of my unborn grandchild in the hands of my daughter-in-law who showed her moxie by driving 80MPH while towing a trailer rated for 55MPH. She easily drove 1/3 of the way. Gutsiest move I ever saw. We love her.

The ride back was even less stressful - Jake and I loaded up on donuts, juice and diet pepsi for a true 'Breakfast of Champions' and sped back down the I-15 in record time for towing a trailer. This makes 2 speed titles in the past 2 months. For the record though, I'm done driving. I hate road trips. I'd rather go to the dentist - really.

So as the dog days of summer linger upon us, thoughts turn to Oceanside and sun-drenched days at the beach. I'm down for 2 weeks this year and am going to enjoy every minute of my time there. We return to North Coast Village after a year's absence. Last summer we rented a house just south of the pier - it was nice to be sure, but the absence of people on the beach made for lousy people watching. At NCV, we choose our spot for the week and camp out; the people watching is extraordinary and constant...sort of like living theater. It's better than the people watching in airports by far.

Since the dog days also mean zero meaningful sports, I've been able to dial in on some reading material I've wanted to get to and have been enjoying my iPad (aka Maxipad) although I do find it somewhat unwieldy in comparison to the Kindle for reading books. The Kindle is smaller and fits on one's hands better than the iPad but that's where the Kindle's capacity ends. Jake was watching the World Cup final on the maxipad during our drive to Utah. TV in the palm of your hand????? The apocolypse is near. What next? Flying cars?

Here at the house, it's an early morning and the Chief of Security (Ray Ray) is all wound up. A new dog in the neigborhood means a new sound for him to get all worked up about so the neighbors are being treated to a bark-a-thon at 7am. I'm sure they love it.

Alec and Tiffany move to Reno in a few days and Janae will fly up next week to help them unpack and get settled in. Seems like yesterday when the boys were in grade school and we were dropping them off at Derfelt Elementary School....Time marches on, things change. Accept it.

I like the quote, "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”

So go out and live your life on your terms - it's the only life you have.

It Ain't Easy Being Me

2010-07-11T07:24:00.000-07:00

The Story of Two Cities and Keith Towing a Trailer.

Since Alec and Tiffany are moving for medical school next week her baby shower was held yesterday in Las Vegas. My job was to rent a trailer to haul all the shower booty up to Utah. Easy right? Nope.

Baby furniture that had been ordered was also delivered here and needed to be in Salt Lake by next week so it could be moved to Reno the week after.

This is generally a simple task except that the second I become involved in anything even moderately complicated, the wheels sort of fall off.

The SUV has a tow package but since I don't tow anything these days and absolutely, positively hated, hated, hated towing the boat back in the day I really thought my "trucking" days were behind me once and for all. Nope.

Of course waiting until the last possible day to hook up the tow sleeve and wiring could be construed as procrastination on my part but not really. I mean I should have just been able to pop off the plastic cover, insert the ball and hitch and meet the fat guy at U-Haul. Nope.

Taking the plastic cover off was easy - took me two minutes. "Uh oh," I said. There wasn't an electrical hookup in sight. Okay....I found the manual which nowadays is about as thick as a phone book and went straight to the index, found "towing" and flipped to page 294 where I was told all sorts of things except for where the wiring coupling is. Meanwhile, it's 9am and already 90 degrees. I've been underneath the vehicle getting filthy and now I'm sweating profusely. Time to go to the dealership.

I pulled into the long service line and decided that since I'm me and don't wait in line, immediately pulled out in the exit lane, moved to the front of the line and said to the guy who was looking at me like, "Who the hell are you?" - "This will just take a minute." It wasn't like I needed an oil change or something. He barks at me to pull over so I threw the car in reverse and nearly caused an accident - horns blaring, tempers flaring....I managed to keep my cool. I told the guy my plight and within 5 minutes a mechanic had be all set up. Whew. Lexus rocks. On to U-Haul.

The fat guy wearing a belt and suspenders with short pants was my first clue something was amiss. Yes they rented U-Haul stuff but there were more like a storage facility. The rental stuff was a side-job for them. We located the trailer and I backed up precisely to the right spot, hopped out of the car, looked at the trailer hitch and uttered, "uh oh." The car has a round electrical coupling while the trailer has a rectangular one. "Hey Mike, you guys sell converters?" (me thinking this would be something that comes up frequently). "Nope." You have to get those at an auto parts store.

AutoZone, Las Vegas, NV.....the line of guys was 3 deep at each register and none of them looked like they were moving. All had assorted parts in one hand and were describing their folly to bored, poker faced clerks. This was going to take awhile. Of course I scrambled around the store trying to locate the part myself, but since this was probably the first time in 2 decades that I had been to an auto parts joint, mission failure was a given. After 15 minutes an older guy stares at me, looks at the inscription on my t-shirt "Varsity Physics" and repeats the slogan. I said, "Yup." As if this guy knew jack about the Haldron Collider. He hooked me up and there I was, underneath the car in the parking lot of AutoZone fiddling with an electrical coupler. I felt like a real car guy.....all the while laughing at my plight.

Back at the U-Haul, Mike was ready for me. In addition to the belt and suspenders, he now was wearing a back brace.

Hmmmmmmnnnnn....I thought to myself.

Apparently it takes two guys to lift the hitch up and manuever it onto the ball. Heavy sucker. I looked around for the other U-Haul guy.... and it was me.

We heaved on the count of three and managed to hoist the hitch onto the ball.....as I felt the discs in my lower vertebrae; L-4 and L-5, pop out. Ouch.

As with any towing job, the attempted coupling didn't take. Mike thought the ball was too big and I'm thinking, "Isn't there just one size ball man? Why is this so damn complicated?"

I said to Mike, "Just jump on the thing and it'll go in." We used to do this all the time with the boat and it somehow worked.

Mike did as he was told and voila, success. We had a coupling. Now I just had to drive around not forgetting I was towing a trailer. I went to the baby store to pick up the furniture, even making some U-turns and was back at the house to accept hugs and kisses from the women in my life. Apparently this sort of thing for a guy - going to multiple shops, making multiple trips, and in sum, going that extra mile - is a rare feat and is rewarded appropriately. Guys usually quit once we find out we have to do more than the absolute minimum. Frankly, I had no choice.

Right now the trailer is parked in the front, ready to go on a journey to Salt Lake City and back over the next two days. Baby stuff moving north, furniture and stuff coming south.

This story isn't over yet. I have 900 miles of danger ahead of me.

Expect an update on Tuesday.

Thought for the Day

2010-07-07T07:11:00.000-07:00

Two Wolves - A Cherokee Parable

An old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life.

"A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy. "It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self-doubt, and ego. The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. This same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too.

"The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

The old chief simply replied, "The one you feed."

4th of July 2010

2010-07-05T17:07:00.001-07:00

4th of July is always a great holiday.

We always throw a pool party and at any given time there are at least 20 kids under 7 years old racing around the pool, eating and doing all those things we were told we couldn't do when we were that age.

Remember the 30 minute rule? Moms told us that we had to wait a half hour after eating before jumping in the pool. I remember quite vividly that I used to time my re-entry to the 29th minute and 59th second.....stupid. I let my kids EAT in the pool. Never hurt them or the pool.

Last week Jake and his friend Adam took the turbo on a high speed illegal fireworks run to the Moapa Indian reservation. Here in Nevada there aren't any forests or trees that can burn but our fire department won't allow decent fireworks - just those little sorry-ass fountains, sparklers, and assorted other "safe" fireworks. We court danger thus Jake's mission was to head north about 50 miles to Indian Country where they sell the good stuff.

Since we took all the Indians good land I guess it's okay that we let them make some coin selling otherwise illegal fireworks, discounted liquor and cheap smokes. If you think the land in Las Vegas is bad, you should see the land we traded the Indians. I'm almost ashamed. I mean, they can't even grow corn or tobacco out there.

Firecrackers? Ha. We got bags of M-80's and found if we tied a bunch of them together we could replicate a low-grade dynamite explosion.

Next up is mixing it with ammonium nitrate - I'll report back on that next year. It's okay, I'm the HOA president and if we blow up the street, so be it. Yes, I am also 49 years young.

Once the sun went down, some of the women were freaking out about the fireworks - they just don't get it. Guys like to blow shit up. Future doctor Alec was ordered by me to not get close to the explosions but that didn't take. He and Jake engaged in a spirited Roman Candle assault on one another. Funny. Until someone gets burned. We had dogs in neigboring zip codes running for cover with our awesome aerial fireworks display. Awesome. Next year I am ordering direct from China.

With all the kids in and around the pool, jumping off the superstructure, careening around on the rope swing with marshmellow sticks dipped in chocolate in their mouths, and all sorts of fire and ash swirling about during firework hour only one kid got hurt. He wasn't really invited so I don't count that. If we get sued, then I'll counter sue for trespassing and other egregious behavior - I'm not gonna lie, the kid was sort of bratty. Jake agreed.

Alec and Tiffany spent the weekend with us after their week at the beach. Tiffany's baby bump is out to.............here (see below - she's in the middle with two other prego family members :-)

The boys and I played golf today and enjoyed a spirited father-son-cousin-uncle 5-some at Canyon Gate CC. We flew around the course in 3 1/2 hours and got back home for more pool time and to stuff our faces with more food.

Jake and Alec

Also happy to report that Jake didn't whack any fowl - he's usually good for knocking out a pigeon, duck or goose on any given golf outing...unintentionally of course. He was just bad. Now, he outdrives me and shoots a pretty decent game. Way to go Jake!

Of course it's not all about the parties. We celebrate our independence from England and all the nasty taxes they imposed on us.

Sort of like now.....seems like another revolution is in order.

It's Over

2010-06-27T08:43:00.001-07:00

Just like that, the World Cup is over....for me anyway.

I was chided by friends and family into supporting "The Beautiful Game" and I did. I learned the rules, watched the games, and even knew some of the players names....but like a cruel girlfriend, all of a sudden, it was over - Team USA lost to Ghana and dreams of a WC were shattered.

Admittedly, I find soccer a tough sport to watch however the momentum of the US team compelled me to always excitedly ask Jake, "When is the next game?" and adjust my schedule accordingly. Now that the USA is out, albeit with a respectable showing, thoughts turn toward the dog days of summer (named as such not for the stifling heat but rather the phrase describes the constellations canis major and canis minor that dominant the nighttime sky). Such days are filled are with baseball highlights, vacation to do lists, and putting up with the heat any way I can.

So far this summer has been uneventful - quiet. We plan to spend two weeks in Oceanside as always in late July/early August. We escape the heat to hit the beach and make some fun memories although since we've been going to Southern California each summer for 15+ years now, the trips all sort of blend together. Actually, that's not accurate; there is the young kids version, the teenage years, and thers grown up years.

The Young Kids Years were comical. I would lug so much gear out to the beach each morning that I would be cranky and sore all day long. Such trips included memorable events like day sojourns to Sea World and San Diego Zoo. Alec and Jeff's unforgettable "duck taping" back in Del Mar in '94 and countless other memorable days building sand castles, tossing the frisbee, boogie boarding and snoozing on the beach.

The Teenage Years were also quite funny - to me anyway. The boys slept alot, did the quiet teenager gig pretty well, and were moderately talkative. There were many friends who joined the trip during these years and our grocery bill was so high I demanded social security numbers from the boy's friends so I could claim them as dependants for tax purposes.

The Grownup Years were bittersweet. We havent' all been at the beach together in 5 years since the boys served back to back church missions in faraway lands. Alec was in Peru for 2006 and 2007 while Jake served in Ecuador during 2008-2009. We'll rendevous as a family again in 2010 but will miss Grammny for the 2nd straight year. In 2007 we added Tiffany to the family and in 2010 we'll welcome a granddaughter in the fall. Future years will only bring more people and more memories.

After the beach Alec begins medical school on August 9th - my father's birthday. We are attending his White Coat Ceremony on the 13th where he is bestowed the traditional garb of a doctor. I think he wraps a stethoscope around his neck for the rest of his life during the first week as well.

These are exciting times.

Countdown - 28 days.

A Great Month of Sports

2010-06-17T04:17:00.000-07:00

Lately we have been blessed with a plethora of excellent sporting events; The recently ended NBA Finals and NHL Finals were some of the finest series competitions in years....but let's not forget about golf, tennis AND the World Cup. Aside from the NFL season, this is arguably the best few weeks in sports.

I know, I know. In my last blog post I just trashed soccer however last week my sons and nephews explained the genius of futbol (soccer) and how the world cup works. After this indoctrination, I have a better understanding of the game but still reserve the right to disparage it due to the lack of scoring and screwball referees.

In the game against Slovenia, Team USA came out flatter than a day old open bottle of 7-Up. They managed to tie the match at the 80 minute mark and then kick in one more goal to go up 3-2 but wait......while 2 of our guys were mugged on the penalty kick, the ref from Mali waived off the goal without offering up an explanation. That's the sort of crap one would never see in an NFL game. Baseball yes (See: No-hitter/perfect game fiasco last month). Corrupt/incompetent refs are rampant in the sport so it has a ways to go before it climbs up out of the gutter.

There was no doubt that hockey and basketball finals were the best in years. Can you think of 2 more blue collar cities than Philadelphia vs. Chicago in hockey? Or two more storied franchises playing for the Larry O'Brien Trophy in the NBA? What a treat. I'm sure that the Flyer-Blackhawk series set a record for sausage and beer consumption. Pipefitters local #185 vs. Pipefitters local #203 while LA-Boston is, well, LA-Boston.

The end of these series set the table for the 2nd best golf tournament in the world to be played on the world's 3rd best golf course (behind Pine Valley and Augusta, respectively). The US Open is the finest test of golf on the planet. Deep rough requires accurate tee shots and precision iron play. The fastest greens this side of the Old Mississippi, the Old Girl, make pros often look like 30 handicappers. The course designers also have a few tricks up their sleeves for the weekends that make it great way to spend 4 days perched in front of the tube while sneaking in a round or two of golf on our own. Thank goodness for Tivo.

And when the golf ends later today, The Championships (Wimbledon) commence tomorrow. It just doesn't end. Two weeks of outstanding tennis will essentially begin with Father's Day festivities and then wind up with the countdown to Oceanside and the first time the family is all together since 2005. O-side this year will be a big deal.

And so the summer of 2010 will pass by in the blink of an eye even though it hasn't even officially begun yet.....where does the time go?

World Cup Kickoff

2010-06-11T06:17:00.000-07:00

Today the world cup kicks off.....literally.

I just don't get the world's fascination with "The Beautiful Game."

South Africa is hosting the event and festivities are rampant.... it's a combination of Mardi Gras meets Carnival meets Running with the Bulls with 40% of the fan base being gang members or as they say in the UK, hooligans. You KNOW there is going to be some nefarious, comical, and utterly stupid behavior by fans from all over the globe.

I've always had trouble with soccer. Here are ten of my concerns and as one to not simply criticize and throw my hands up in the air, I do offer a solution to the issue.

Here goes.

1. There isn't enough action. They guys run around like the keystone kops chasing the ball, and if we're lucky, it's a 2-1 game.....after 90 minutes of playing.

As a relunctant coach (nobody else volunteered) of many a youth soccer seasons, our games would end up 7-5 or 10-8.

In one memorable game we were down something like 8-0 in the first half, I ran out to see if the goalie was okay since he was just being pummeled and he lit up and said with a huge smile that was missing some teeth, "Coach, today is my birthday." I hugged him. We got smoked that day, but I'll never forget that kids comment.

Solution: Use a larger goal.

2. The Beautiful Game's timeclock is subject to interpetation by the referee. When the clocks strikes zero (0:00) the game should be over. In all timed sports this is how it works. In fact, in the NBA referees huddle together over last second shots to ensure they left the shooters hand before the buzzer went off. Precision.

This sort of clock tomfoolery allows The Beautiful Game a few minutes or so of drama since no one, at least me, has any idea how much longer the ref will allow play to go on. I'm told, "Well, you have sort of an idea." Me? I need a clock that ticks down to zero.

Soution: If there is a penalty or an injury, do what other sports do, STOP THE CLOCK. What a concept.

3. The card stuff. What's a yellow card for? A red card? Are these like fouls in basketball? Are players fined, suspended?

Solution: Use a box like hockey.

4. Do all UK teams play with beer on the sidelines because they look like they do.

Solution: None needed.

5. Single elimination? Double elimination? What's the damn format? In the NFL you lose, you go home. Soccer? World cup soccer....I have no idea.

Solution: Single Elimination

6. Does the USA have a snowballs chance in hell to win this thing? Because if they lose to England on Saturday (see even I know the schedule), viewship will go down like 90% since Americans own the most television sets. It's true, look it up.

Solution: No idea.

7. How come soccer players can play for multiple teams in multiple leagues all the time? Take David Beckham for example. He plays for the LA Galaxy and is paid a princely sum to do so, however on occasion he is "loaned" to another team in Europe. He also plays for the English National Team. To me, this is the equivalent of Peyton Manning playing in the NFL, opting to leave for a week or so to play in the arena league. Quirky or is that just me?

Solution: Play on one team and your national team like the hockey guys.

8. The fans are fanatical. I recall a goalie giving up goal once and he was later killed by mob of followers. Clearly the IQ level of most soccer fans falls far below that of hockey and MMA fans. I said most.

Solution: No idea.

9. The slave labor thing. 70,000 construction workers who were supposed to be working on the new stadiums walked off their jobs on 8 July 2009. The majority of the workers receive R2500 per month (about £192, €224 or $313), but the unions allege that workers are grossly underpaid.

Solution: Move the games to a country where wages meet or exceed cost of living. (I sound like a liberal....hehehe).

10. And finally, in the words of the immortal Duane Thomas, "If it such a big deal, how come they (only) play it every 4 years?"

Solution: If it is such a big deal, play it every year.

I rest my case.

A Summer Place

2010-06-09T16:29:00.000-07:00

Now that the heat in Las Vegas has finally been turned on and we've hit 110 already the pool electrical system decided to go on the fritz. The unit controls the pumps, the heater, the fountains, the lights and where the water circulates to keep everything sparkling clean without manual manipulation....it's a cool and useful and utterly necessary to keep Chez Runyon in tip top condition.

Our backyard is sort of a Shangra La - big pool with rope swing and superstructure, little pool and 28 person jacuzzi. The eating area is complete with outdoor fridge, BBQ, plenty of seating and what not. It is THE party yard.

A pool malfunction therefore is troublesome.....disasterous even.

You need a pool out here or else it's possible to drop dead from heat stroke or simply catch on fire if you stay outside too long. Yeah, it's that hot....like seven inches from the midday sun.....

Some history....The guy that did the orignal electrical work 7 years ago is the brother of a good friend. I'm still not sure if the brother knew with 100% certainty what he was doing since during the install he was always talking on his cell phone and would disappear for hours during the day. I also think he was colorblind which didn't help with the wiring.

My suspicion was confirmed since each time I've had someone come out to fix something and as they take off the outer panel the first thing they all do is place their hands on their hips, then scratch their heads and mutter, "WTF," while yanking at wires and swearing under their breath.

Me? I just peer out the window and see dollar signs....$$$$$$

And then race back to my office to pretend I don't know what's going on. This is usually followed by a knock on the door a few minutes later that Janae answers, then a loud, "KEITH!!!! The pool guy needs to see you," follows.

"Uh oh.....(profanities)"

This time we had a pool light out and the pool filter pump wouldn't turn off - it just ran 24/7. The only way to kill it was to flip the circuit breaker to off which I was concerned would turn off the power to the entire house since the wiring was sort of....what is the politically correct way to say this....., "jerry-rigged."

Luckily, the filter pump was an easy fix for an experienced electrician - something about a new relay switch (no idea what that is).

All I know is that it took him 15 minutes tops and now my pool runs on schedule and doesn't burn energy all day long (when I would flip the breaker and forget to turn it back on for a few days I felt all green inside but on the other hand, the pool would literally turn green - either way, it's a pain in the ass). I'm not a "green" guy anyway. I like my styrofoam. No dishes to do.

The pool light is a different animal. We have special lights that can amazingly turn the pool water into various colors (it's a woman thing). These "SAM" lights run about $800 bucks a piece installed - I have 4 of them. When two of the lights went out last year, we called the orignal electrician who managed to replace the lights over a period of about 2 months - some 1 month and 29 days longer than usual. Once replaced, they never worked properly and flamed out right off the bat - the gaskets weren't sealed properly. The guy was on his cell phone most of the time doing this job too and I'm pretty sure that he left a cell phone INSIDE the light fixture. In fact, I think he also swam WHILE talking on the phone. Trouble in river city.....

So I called in the Cavalry, a professional electrician, and he was able to fix the problem in a day. Two were fixed, two were still holding on.

The current light problem was due to the gasket leaking. As a guy, I'm used to just letting things go until the wife decides it's time to fix whatever is wrong. The problem I faced was this: pool+water and electrical = problem....not a good combo so I had to get on it. The light was removed, opened and we stared at it to look for signs of rust and whatnot. Pool guy elected to leave the light out in million degree heat to thoroughly dry out (my idea too) and then we'd see if just replacing the bulbs would do the trick versus replacing the entire unit.

Next day, I meet the guy at the house. Apparently cooking the lamp on the deck for 24 hours dried out the fixture and new bulbs did the trick - they were only $75 each (!?!?).

Just when I thought we had the pool problems licked, the lights flipped on at dusk....

....and now the spa light doesn't work.

This. Is. My. Life.

Who Knew?

2010-06-02T06:02:00.000-07:00

For the past few weeks I have been getting up around 4am, reading, and the heading off to the gym to work out with my brother Eric.

This is a very odd mid-life development.

For the past 30+ years, I was always a night owl usually staying up until well past midnight. In my college days I didn't dare take morning classes since I'd sleep through them. I didn't much care for afternoon classes either since I'd be skiing or playing golf....and evening classes didn't fit my social schedule so I was scrambling around trying to make it to class or copy notes from some cute girl. Hey, I graduated okay - barely. Last I checked, my degree didn't list the total number of absences so I got that going for me.....which is nice.

Anyway, back to this 4am thing.....I wake up with more energy now than since I was in high school and all that testosterone was just starting to coarse through my body.

But 4am?

Really?

Some obeservations about that hour of the day:

1. The sky is beautiful, the air crisp and the smell of spring is abundant - even in Nevada. Granted, the now pungent flowers will all flame out once the 100 degree heat hits in a few days (and stays for 4 months - but it's a dry heat - haha) but right now, at this moment, it's pretty neat. We even have a hummingbird nest going up in the secret garden area of the yard.....2nd year in a row now.

2. No one is on the road. I even beat the newspaper guy. I really don't read the newspaper since every bit of news and information is available online, however the paper people are sneaky - they just keep renewing my subscription automatically and I never find their phone number to cancel the delivery - I'm killing trees and everyone knows what an enviromentalist I am. Each morning when I see the weeks pile of newspapers stacked up I say, "Damn, I gotta cancel that subscription."

3. Working out is fun. Really it is. Once you get over the soreness of the first few workouts, the routine gets easier. The day after I hit the gym it felt like I was run over by a truck. I have this penchant for always going full speed and acting like I'm 20 years old. I'm told I need to "take it slow," and "work yourself up slowly." Slow is not in my vocab. It just isn't. Therefore I suffer from my overzealousness. In everything.

4. What started the 4am wake up? Dunno. Maybe it's a sign of middle age. My father would arise well before dawn each day and hit the ground running. Me? For most of my life I stumbled out of bed, stumbled to the john, stumbled to the shower and so on. I had a horrible time waking up and staying alert. Now, not so much.

5. Getting up early is not without problems however: What does one do between 6am and 7am? It's not like I can go to work at 6:30am and beat everyone in by 2 hours. I can't go back to bed since that will screw up by circadian sleep rhythms. I figured I can blog since blogging is my outlet for all that right and wrong in Keith World. My blog is my journal and one day wifey-poo will take all the posts from all the years and have them bound into a book so that my posterity can read of my escapades. I'm sure it will make for good bathroom reading material.

6. I am back to being Yard Rambo. Sure Super Pedro takes care of the yard but even he misses some things, plus I enjoy planting flowers, weeding, and tending to my garden patch of tomatoes and strawberries. This is my 2nd go around at a garden - last year we did okay but I'm thankful for Von's Supermarket being close by since I would starve if left to my own devices to feed myself and my crew. I was born in the right era.

7. Even the dogs aren't ready to get up and get after it. Zeus and Ray-Ray usually like to get rousted from their kennel at 8-830am but with my new schedule, I get them up earlier - 7-730 now. They look at me like, "Hey man, what's the deal dude?" They do their business and go back to bed - a dogs life. Not bad.

The new schedule is agreeing with me. Somehow, going to bed earlier hasn't been a problem and waking up is a breeze. Utterly amazing to me - a 180.

The Greatest Generation

2010-05-31T13:38:00.001-07:00

Today, on a bright blue cloudless Nevada day, we journeyed to The Boulder City Veteran's Cemetary about an hours drive from our house and gave a loud shout out to the deceased Veterans of the United States of America. Janae, Jake, my mom, my brother Eric and I made the trek and had an incredible experience.

As usual, for Memorial Day, a flag decorates the grave of every serviceman and woman. It is quite a site to see so many flags on display - makes the hair on your neck stand up to see the flags rippling in the wind while listening to Battle Hymn of the Republic and God Bless American rumbling over the loudspeakers. Chills. Are YOU feelin' it?

My father's burial marker like all in this particular cemetary is made out of brass. Years ago, my mother figured out that spraying the marker with WD-40 brought back the luster of the plaque and made it look brand new.

Nerdy I know.

Each time we go to the gravesite, you can bet that we have a can of the stuff in the car, along with flowers, and other decorations mom wants to use to dress up the gravesite. Mom is nothing if not efficient. Dad probably just wants us to pour suds on his grave.

Going on Memorial Day is a treat. The parking lot is always full and cars must park on the adjacent streets. It's almost like a festival and the atmosphere is extremely patriotic - people wearing red, white and blue....bikers in battalion leathers, youth groups in matching t-shirts, serious and stern young ROTC cadets, widows and widowers of every race and faith but Americans to the core.

After spending time at dad's gravesite, saying a family prayer, and my reading the poem, "Freedom Isn't Free," I wandered over toward the memorial area that honors each branch of service and witnessed a moving sight: An aged veteran soluting the granite monument that was erected as a tribute to the branch of service he served in so many, many years ago.

Seeing this old man nattily dressed in a brown suit and red, white and blue tie, proudly wearing a cap that beared his many medals and service pins was a deeply moving experience for me. I went up to him and shook his hand to express my gratitude for him and all of those men and woman of "The Greatest Generation." If not for these men and women we'd be speaking German or Japanese right now.

He was appreciative of my words and kind beyond belief. I was mesmorized by the story he began to tell..... It seems that this old veteran, hearing aids no doubt turned up to their maximum volume, hands shaking, his body weight supported by a cane was THE benefactor of the Boulder City Veteran's Cemetary.

The guy I was speaking to was Ken Brown. The same Ken Brown who bought and gifted the 83 acres of land to be used solely as a cemetary for veterans and their spouses back in the late 1980's. He'd made his money in real estate and when he learned that this piece of land was for sale, he went down the next day and bought it with the sole purpose of providing a Veteran's cemetary for Southern Nevada.

To spend even a minute with this hero would be an honor however he easily granted us some 15 minutes of his life telling stories of how the land purchase came about, the donation process, where his wife was buried in the cemetary (he knew the location by heart), his military service and how great a country America is. He became emotional speaking about the devastation of the recent oil leak in the gulf and how it affected the people living in the coastal region. I admired his compassion, was envious of his bravery, and was grateful for his courage.

By now I was completely in awe of this man - his stories, his bravery, his gift to the people of Southern Nevada, his service to his country and most of all, his honor.

This guy's DNA was made up of loyalty, courage, honor and guts. The marines credo is "Semper Fidelis," which means "Always Faithful." Maybe it's just me, but it seems like such conviction is lacking in the world today.

Where can we find such passion and commitment for our nation today? The republicans and democrats fight like children. Big business is as crooked as my drive on the first tee yesterday, and our government just keeps getting bigger, more complicated and more expensive. What's the solution?

I say we get some WWII vets in a room and let them figure it out.

Golf & The Perfect Cart Girl

2010-05-30T06:47:00.000-07:00

A modern twist on an old game makes for some interesting golf outings.

For decades now, golfers have become accustomed to seeing a slightly larger version of their own golf cart filled with beverages, snacks, smokes, and food meandering around the golf course. A veritable mini-mart on wheels - The Beverage Cart.

It's never about what's on the cart as much as it's about WHO is driving it. This makes for interesting discussion during a round.

I've determined without any real statistical analysis that the following types of beverage cart attendants exist in the world today:

1. The School Mom Cart Girl (SMCG) is older - maybe late 30's, has kids in school, is efficient, remembers your name and maybe even your member number too. She knows what your favorite beverage is and has it ready when she rolls up to your cart and is generally looping the course until her shift ends - maybe even longer. These types are a rare breed.

2 The Bimbo Cart Girl (BCG) is the exact opposite of the SMCG operator. She's tries to flirt but it always ends up awkward. She can't remember your name, often can't find the door to leave at night, wears her uniform too tight, and overdoes the whole, "Can I get you anything," routine. This type of cart girl NEVER balances her cart at the end of a shift. Fat, old drunk guys (like Ted Kennedy) love this kind of cart girl.

3. The Young Ambitious Cart Girl (YACG)is in her early 20's, putting herself through school and is simply a younger version of the FACG but with a better career path in mind. These types generally don't joke around much and are cold-bloodedly efficient in their work. Frankly, while dependable as the day is long, they are rather boring and we golfers tend to snicker at their uber professionalism.

4. The Male Cart Girl (MCG). An oxymoron if there ever was one, huh? This is the worst possible scenario on a golf course. Scores will skyrocket since all focus on one's game is lost due to the constant question that lingers the entire round long, "What's a guy doing driving the beverage cart?" It's the golf equivalent of a male nurse, or a male hairstylist. It's just wrong man.

5. The Flight Attendant Cart Girl (FACG). This is the matronly cart girl who is past her prime - sort of like all of the flight attendants on Delta and American Airlines. Their personalities were surgically removed years ago, they speed around the course like it's a video game. They like to pretend not to see you if you don't wave them over and have zero personality. The FACG's tend to be older than the SMCG and are protected from being dismissed since they know where all the bones are buried at the club.....and believe me, with all the shenanigans going on behind the cart barn, their jobs are safe until the day they die.

6. The Perfect Cart Girl (PCG). Yesterday we ran into not one but two PCG's. These are rare sitings - they are the golf equivalent of an endangered species. Sleek, young, tan, pretty, flirtatious, funny, touchy/feely (but in an awkward way), makes loop after loop around the course like a plow horse, and has that semi-sluttiness act that earns them triple the tips of #'s 1-5 above. Easily the finest cart girls on the planet but damn hard to find. Our new GM is an Aussie so maybe he imported them from down under but I couldn't detect an accent. I knew we were in for a treat when on the first hole, the heretofore unknown PCG pulled up next to my Brother-in-Law's cart and says, "Hey Love Muffin." My head snapped around so fast my C-4 and C-5 vertebrae are still sore 24 hours later. She had all the lines...but since we don't drink like the other 100 golfers out on the course, she held no power over us. Her tractor beam could not pull us in however we had a hilarious time from that point on just making up stuff. I was going to ask her, "Where do you dance at night?" I mean c'mon, "Love Muffin?" My brother-in-law will NEVER live that one down. We howled with laughter and our games suffered as a consequence.

Conclusion

I've determined that in order to play a good round of golf, the following are required:

1. A good group of guys. A foursome provides enough trash-talking and ribbing AND pace of play that is therapeutic and permits complete relaxation and focus.

2. A good day. For golfers, this is defined usually as "any day" however I must confess that playing in the wind generally sucks. The heat and the cold don't bother us. A little spot of rain isn't a big deal - even the occasional downpour is doable, but the wind is the 'X' factor that often determines if we tee up or not.

3. Cart Attendant #1. Utterly forgettable yet efficient. Keeps us from getting hungry or thirsty and doesn't try and work us. Talks about her kids (and we love kids), and their dreams. A proud momma.....and then she disappears for another 4 or 5 holes. Perfect.

Oh, and hitting 'em straight always helps too.

Fire in the Hole

2010-05-28T08:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Jake, me and some of my fellow gun enthusiasts left the gritty, concrete and crowded confines of city life and drove way out into the Nevada desert to shoot guns. We fired every weapon in our arsenal, sighted scopes, and re-arranged the terrain of the desert with my 50 caliber sniper rifle.

There was a slight wind however we were in a lowland wash area so it wasn't as bad as our other afternoon option: golf. We made the decision to shoot instead of hit the links about 11am once we figured out that most of our clients had high-tailed it out of town to get a jump on the long Memorial Day weekend. We could have been bored at work talking about shooting or just get off our asses and go do it. We chose the latter option.

It would be impossible for us to bring all of our weapons so we took only the Windrunner 50 caliber sniper rifle, the Colt AR-15 semi-automatic assault rifle, the 45 Colt ACP and the Desert Eagle 44 Magnum along with a plethora of ammo - at least 30 pounds worth. Koner, Mike and Dennis each brought along their weapons so we were armed and completely not dangerous. This is sport shooting folks and we all take safety very seriously.

After driving past the Indian reservation (and wondering why the Indians don't build windmills and sell the power to NV Energy), we left the Interstate 95 for a bumpy dirt road. 10 minutes later we were parked and unloading our gear.

I have never shot guns with Jake or Alec before so this outing had potential for a good teary father-son outing: shooting guns that are illegal in some states but in Nevada, we're more than okay.

I will put this in persective: The Nevada Test Site is about 90 miles north of Las Vegas. It was there that over 900 nuclear bombs were detonated above and below ground for the United States during the cold war heyday. The prospect of some heavily armed middle aged guys shooting guns wasn't such a big deal. In California, Massachusetts and New York we'd be in jail right now - for a long stretch. Nevada? We aren't even a blimp on the radar screen. In fact, we had enough gear and ammo, the A-Team and most South American countries wouldn't stand a chance against us.

After a few hours, several buzzing eardrums (gotta keep the ear plugs in fella's especially when the Windrunner is being launched), we hauled our dusty selves back into the vehicle and sped off for home.

I know Jake enjoyed the outing and I hope to take he and Alec out again soon.

Just living the dream.

A Mens Dress Code

2010-05-26T06:55:00.000-07:00

I witnessed a distressing fashion trend yesterday. Nightmarish.

Men wearing jean shorts.

With their shirts tucked in.

Wearing sandals.

With socks.

At 2 different locations.

The first guy looked like a "jean short" guy since his shirt was definitely from the early 1990's too and he was busting out of the shorts and his shirt like a sausage link.

The only guy I know that can pull off the wearing-old-clothes-routine is Marv. He's 86 and has been wearing the same wardrobe for at least 40 years....still comes into the office each day to give me the finger and call me an A.H. which is always followed by, "You know what that is." My stock reply is, "Yeah Marv, I'm looking at one now." Then he shakes his head, mutters something under his breath and wanders off. Groundhog day - this happens EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

Since Marv still wears clothes from the '60's, I believe the hip phrase is "That was once old is new again," is debatable. In his all brown polyester outfit looks like the UPS man, and the navy slacks and light blue shirt remind me of a garage mechanic. Back in the day gas stations actually repaired cars and just might have a soda machine. Nowadays, when you refuel, you can buy groceries, get a carwash, and in Nevada, play slot machines. The apocalypse must be near.

All this got me to thinking about my own dressing style. I use this phrase since "fashion sense" sounds so gay. In high school we wore levi's and t-shirts. The girls wore ditto's (pants) and halter tops/tube tops or flimsy blousey things. All were easy to take off and get to 2nd base. I digress.

The '70's were just plain bad in terms of dress and the '80's were marginally better. Only in the '90's did things start to shape up.Nowadays the term "metrosexual" has become synonomous with Ryan Seacrest and men who spend just a little too much time primping and getting dressed. I'm not a metro.

Fashions come and go, but style is always, well, in style. Here are a few dress for success tips passed down from my dad that still work today:

1. Always make sure your shoes are shined. This means the leather side soles too. Nothing worse that seeing a man in a suit or dress slacks with shoes that look like he just played soccer in. Cool fact - I have my father's shoe polish brush from when he served in WWII - still has the his name stenciled on it so whenever I'm shining up my shoes, it reminds me of my dad (who died in 1994).
2. Make sure you nails are clean and trimmed. There can be no debate here - nothing worse than seeing anyone with curled talons on their hands or feet. Ick.
3. Make sure your clothes are pressed - don't be sloppy. No one likes a slob.
4. If you wear a blue, gray, or black suit, DO NOT EVER where brown shoes at the same time. Black shoes are the only appropriate footwear here (unless you are a pimp and then go ahead and wear shoes that match your suit color).

5. You can never go wrong wearing a pressed white shirt with any suit.

6. A pocket square is always a classy touch.

7. A men's belt should match the color of his shoes (sort of like the purse/shoe thing women fight with each day). Luckily for us a belt is only like $50 bucks versus a Kate Spade, or Ferragamo purse. Whew.

8. Try and not get too crazy with patterns. The suit, tie and shirt should not all be patterned - if you get to work and look in the mirror, it will look like you dressed in the dark.

9. It's okay to wear interesting socks slightly darker than one's trousers. A light pattern is permissable - even a bit wimsy is okay.

10. 2010 means flat front pants are in and a return to the '60's in terms of a tighter fit.

Guys, better hit the gym.

Bubble Kids

2010-05-21T06:23:00.001-07:00

I've been watching the NBA conference finals and keep seeing the same lame ad on the TV that emphasizes wearing seatbelts and that the cops are on the lookout to ticket offenders.....then my brain starting comparing the year 2010 with my ja,ja, ja, Generation (BTW that's a song title by The Who....they are a band....still quite popular with middle age folks).

I was reared in the 1960's and '70's.....cars had seat belts (they were called lap belts back then since the use of the three point belt [lap and shoulder strap] wasn't mandated until the late '70's early '80's and applied only to front seat passengers - it's true I looked it up) but no one used them. They were usually tucked deep down between the cushions of the large land yachts of the day.... Buick Bonnevilles, Cadillac Coup de Villes, Lincoln Continentals and so forth.

Back then I don't remember car seats either. Kids have car seats today as complex as the first space shuttle. They transform into playpens and carrying beds. They also plug into strollers and chairs to ensure that junior is adequately protected from head to toe and side to side. I think they have airbags too.

We were hauled around by the scruff of our necks, dumped into rickety strollers and when mom had to slam the breaks on, her right arm would shoot out to stop us from plowing into the dashboard. Worked every time. Carseat?

Today, kids are strapped in tight and stare zombie-like at built-in mini-tv's that play their favorite movies or games while parents sit up front and fret about the little tykes safety, they worry about their mortgage, their 401K, their jobs....it's a shitty deal for young parents.

Back in the glory days, when America was kicking ass and taking names, we boys would play with plastic green soldiers or lego's or Lincoln Logs in the rear end of station wagons with the back window rolled down and we'd toss all sorts of stuff out the opening - especially on the deserted freeways of the American west.

This was part of being kid. If we were stupid enough to fall out of the back of the car, which I never did, mothers would certainly rub some dirt on the wound and kids would suck it up.

Today wearing a seatbelt is mandatory - people can be ticketed for failing to buckle up. I'm all for seatbelt use but to have law enforcement ticket folks for failing to buckle up is ridiculous and a testament to government sticking their nose into another area of our lives.

Some other observations:

When I was a kid,the only suntan lotion I can recall was Coppertone. Back then the Coppertone girl was an advertisement showing a young blond girl in pigtails staring in surprise as a Cocker Spaniel sneaks up behind her and pulls down her swimsuit bottoms, exposing her pale white butt in contrast with her tanned body. This photo is burned into my generation's collective memory. Check it out:

Now we have lotion for dark skin, medium skin, light skin, dry skin, oily skin; 4 SPF, 8 SPF and on up to 100 SPF (for my sister-in-law and nuke blasts). Geez, slap some sunscreen on and get out there. Get a sunburn? Too bad. At least that means you actually played outside.

We didn't use hand sanitizer either. We washed our hands before mealtime. Sort of.

Mom's would holler, "Wash your hands," and then sniff 'em to make sure we did it. Usually, we did such a bad job, the towel used to dry off our hands would get dirty. Usually we never quite dried our hands off completely either.

I also remember the scaulding hot days of football practice where my teammates and I stood in line and gulped water from a hose that I'm pretty sure had been there for years. Hell, it may still be there.

No fancy vitamin water, or gatorade or bottled water for us....or fruit snacks at halftime. I'm not necessarily dogging how kids have it today, I'm just pointing out the differences between generations....and how wimpy kids are today. It's true. Look it up.

When we were in Peru a few years ago we met a wonderful family and spent several evenings in their home playing a simple board game. I playfully asked out loud, "Where is the cord to plug in?" Laughter all around from Janae and the boys - except for the Peruvians who politely just smiled. They didn't get it. Back in the day we played OUTSIDE until the streetlights came on. Today, not so much.

From 1974 to 1976 I rode a bicycle to school, gasp, WITHOUT a helmet. Nowadays, everything from skate boarding to biking to skiing seems to require or strongly advocate wearing a helmet. Again, the idea is well founded I suppose, but what next? Airbags on bikes? I will laugh out loud the day I see kids walking to school with helmets on. Should you see this, it means the apocalypse is near.

Today, alas, kids are raised in a bubble. I wouldn't say our kids were raised that way (they are now 23 and 21 years old respectively), but the current generation sure is. Laughably so.

It's not that we were reckless parents, we just raised our boys up to learn from their own mistakes and to hopefully not make the same mistake twice.

Today's kids need to learn how to lose. They need to learn, by themselves, that the stove is hot....that dogs can bite and that cats have sharp claws. They need to fall off their bikes a few dozen times to learn how to pop a wheelie, hop a curb or fly off a makeshift ramp of plywood. They need to look people in the eyes when they talk to them instead of nodding and texting and grunting, "uh uh."

I mention the above since I'll be a grandfather in 4 months. We'll see if the Gold Bricks I gave to my son will be passed on to the next generation. These bits of wisdom contain the best stuff my mom and dad could offer up and what we could improve upon....yet falls short of complete bubble isolation.

Let's hope Alec was a good listener.

Back to Back

2010-05-16T07:36:00.000-07:00

We've had a 2nd place in Salt Lake City for 6 years and this is the first time I've ever spent back to back weekends there. As always, there are reasons for the things that occur in my life that make it so interesting and comical.

Last weekend was Alec's graduation from college so coming up here was a no brainer.

This weekend was the Utah state tennis championships and Highland High, a team the boys helped coach with my boyhood bro Doc Foote, literally had the title "in the bag" after last weeks performance in Ogden. This event, plus the fact that at home in Las Vegas there was a church activity planned for Saturday at Warm Springs, which to me, is a forgotten outpost 50 miles from civilization and in the middle of nowhere amid some of the most barren land on the planet, was my other option. I picked Utah.....in a heartbeat. I would have walked if I had to.

The road to Warm Springs

I've concluded, with near scientific analysis, that no matter how many stops you make, or how fast you drive, it's a 6+ hour trip from Las Vegas to Salt Lake City. It just is - I've done it in a number of cars, at different times of the year, regular hours of the day, strange hours of the day, with and without kids - doesn't matter. It's 6 hours plus - minimum. 6 hours in a car for me is torture.

Flying takes 55 minutes once the wheels go up. For this trip, I chose to fly. In fact I usually opt for the friendly skies since my wife for some inexplicable reason actually enjoys roadtrips. Me? Send the wife up a day or two early while Keith toils away at work (or gets in that extra round of golf) THEN I take the company jet (SWA), listen to some tunes, catch up on emails or snooze for a spell and before you know it, I'm back in my most favorite American city.

Thursday was a day crammed full of things I had to do, things I forgot to schedule and was just plain jacked full of stuff that kept putting back my departure. The golf game at 11:30 was one of those things....the wind in Las Vegas had stopped for the first time in a month and there was no way that me and the fella's were going to let this opportunity pass us by to hit the links. Delay number two was due more to my ineptitude in using my electronic calendar versus the yellow post it notes that frame my computer screen. I had colleagues from Los Angeles coming to meet me at 4:30, then we were going to dinner - I remembered this on about the 4th hole. Flight delay #3.

We managed to complete the round by 3:30 so I had time to shower and make the meeting. I arrived to the office on time only to meet a longtime friend and client in the parking lot who is as long-winded as he his Italian. I got rid of him as fast as I could and I ran inside, out of breath, hair wet, sunburned and was greeted by my LA pals with "How was the golf game?" Laughter all around. Since they had flights that night too, we left early for Flemings and wolfed down a great dinner, conducted some business, talked the usual sports talk, took apart healthcare reform, analyzed the housing and economic crisis, shook hands, and went our separate ways. Guys are easy like that.

Friday was filled with tennis, a nap and some hysterical conversations/movie analysis with Alec and Jake and, of course, a lot of Sportscenter.

By Saturday afternoon Highland High had in fact knocked off Timpview's 7 year stranglehold on the title and were crowned state champs while Doc Foote's son won the #2 state singles title. Elation all around. If there was one thing I learned during the finals it is this: Never tell the coach it's in the bag before the fat lady sings. Of course, one can only look to the 3rd paragraph of this post to see how seriously I take things like this.

I had an inkling that the title was theirs and was simply uttering aloud what the late, great Lenny Snellman would have said. Kathy-from-the-UK and I were extremely postive about Highland's chances although she's 90 years old and still thinks Churchill is running things over there. Super nice lady - splendid in fact. Last week we spent some time with her and she helped us wiff our English accents and considered them to be "Most excellent." And to answer the question that all of your are thinking; "Yes, being from England, her teeth are in bad shape."

Another nap followed the matches and then we celebrated at Cucina Toscana again with Valter and his staff. Said it before and will say it again, it's the best dining experience you will ever have. I'm hooked on Valter.

I gotta be honest - for once I'm looking forward to driving Jake home today from college. We packed up most of his stuff last week in the SUV and today we will set out to break the 6 hour mark heading home.

We have several things in our favor:

1) There ar no girls or dogs in the car

2) We are both built from the same impatient cloth

3) Our wheels are turbocharged

4) We stop for nothing except fuel - one time.

Let you know how long it takes.

Alec's Graduation Weekend

2010-05-09T21:11:00.000-07:00

Friday was one of those great days in life that I know will stay with me forever.

The family gathered in Salt Lake City to celebrate Alec's graduation from the University of Utah. He studied physics and graduated summa cum laude which is latin for "with highest honors." During his 4 years he earned all "A's." Mind boggling. He starts medical school in August and his wife is expecting their first child in September. Busy and exciting times for them.

When Alec's name was announced at graduation, our group of 10 whooped, hollered and woo-hoo'd VERY loudly and Jake sprang from his seat and hollered, "That's my brother!" We even managed to drown out the applause for the Asian contingent which represented at least 50% of the Department of Science grads. I know this since the crew behind us were Chinese and admittedly told us that we had the loudest cheer. I wanted to start the wave but was pretty sure the science nerds wouldn't get it or better yet, couldn't coordinate it. One guy earned his Phd in something like Elliptical Partial Differential Equations. Jake and I turned our heads toward each other and rolled our eyes as if to say, "Puh-leeeeeeze just make sure satellite TV keeps working."

Afterward, while taking photo's, Alec gave me one of the greatest gifts (and compliments) I have ever received. He presented me with a red sash, identical to one he wore with his honors ropes and medals, and on it was a personal message. The gift of the sash is officially called "A Stole of Gratitude." It's given to the person who motivated and/or inspired them during their education process. The stole had a personal message that Alec had hand wrote that made the big fella weep like a baby.

That night we then dined at Cucina Tuscano.

This place is located on the west side of Salt Lake city in an old tire building - the Firestone logo is still painted on the structure and one can see that better than the Cucina Tuscano sign which is covered in ivy. From the outside you would never think of eating there....or if you did, you could have your tires rotated at the same time. Nope. I've dined around the globe in all sorts of cool restaurants; Paris, London, Honolulu, New York, San Francisco, Tijuana, Chicago, Lima, Fort Worth Stockyards (best BBQ of all time), N'Awlins, Barcelona...you name it.... and this little joint tucked away in a quiet little corner of the world was, hands down, the finest dining experience I ever had. The owner is about 70 and has Albert Einstein-like hair only combed a lot better and an excitable and cheerful demeanor. He dresses much better than the deceased physicist too. His natty wardrobe was the perfect mix to greet customers, sprint into the kitched to holler in Italian at the chefs, and roam his restaurant like a panther to ensure that the service staff were all on the ball. All along I was calling this cat Walter while telling him one of my Grandfathers hailed from Trieste in Northern Italy. This simple fact meant that from that minute forth, we were paisan's - which means "friend" in Italian. Walter also loves the ladies. He kisses all of them no matter what they look like. I also found out late in the game that his name is "Valter." So I was misprouncing his name all night but his English wasn't so hot either. When we left, we embraced. Paisan's forever. Call the movers Janae.....we're headed to SLC.

Saturday we trekked north to Ogden to watch high school tennis. The boys helped coach the Highland High tennis team this year and had all of their players competing for state seedings for the state tournament next week. The bottom line is that Highland High opened a HUGE can of whoop ass and beat the snot out of their opponents. Me? I like winners.

Their dominance was so great that I found myself sound asleep on the grass in one of the most beautiful locations I can ever recall - at the foot of Mount Ogden surrounded by green grass, a beautiful golf course and some well behaved dogs. The only other outdoor nap that could compare to this was at the foot of the Eiffel Tower in 2000. Out cold on my back and snoring like Fred Flintstone.

Returning to the hotel we watched in dismay yet another heartbreaking Jazz loss to the hated LA Lakers. The announcers can't contain their love for Kobe. Kobe, Kobe, Kobe.... Me? I like the Shaqobe era much better since Shaq's lovably, goofy personalaity made up for the Black Mamba's surliness and nasty temper. FYI, Kobe was named after a steak house in western Pennsylvania....it's true, look it up.

Sunday was a rare radio/TV double for me.

At the Grand America Sunday Brunch/feast I was interviewed by the local Fox network about Mother's Day whilst stuffing my face with jumbo shrimp cocktail, sage sausage, more bacon than I've ever downed in a single sitting (including Christmas morning) 2 creme brulees, and all sorts of other delicious and tasty morsels. As a precaution against my arteries clogging up and throwing wrench in the trip, I downed a handful of aspirin and 2 chloresterol pills - one before the meal and one after. So far, so good - no chest pains whatsoever.

The drive home.

I hate driving for more than 10 minutes so the six hour drive from SLC to LV was pure torture until Janae located the NFL sirius radio channel that I listened to for most of the drive. Since there was absolutely nothing to do for 6 hours but stare at the road, I called the radio to chat with Jack Arute and Josh Porter about, among other things, the NFL labor contracts; issues with PED's; and about having teams put on garage sales to get rid of their junk and raise money for local charities. I may need to guest host on West Coast Biased.

We stopped in Bunkerville to leave flowers on Janae's mothers grave. When I looked at the date of her death - which seemed like yesterday - I was amazed that it's been nearly a 1 1/2 years since her passing.

The last hour or so of the ride Janae played songs off her iphone and I had to guess the song and the group. My overall score was pathetic - probably around 30%. I knew most of the songs and could sing along, badly, but was clueless about the artist and song title. This confuses me greatly. I can remember all sorts of sports statistics yet am unable sing a single song from memory and get all the words right unless they were Christmas songs. I botch up every song. Even those from my favorite artists. Admittedly, it is the one thing I am bad at.

Of course it's quite possible that my brain is so packed with sports stats, and other useless trivia that there's no room for music. The aforementioned however make me a great trivial pursuit player. Trust me, you want me on your TP team.

We don't stop playing because we grow old; We grow old because we stop playing.

- George Bernard Shaw

May Day

2010-05-01T18:43:00.000-07:00

To say that the past few weeks have been interesting would be an understatement.

The NFL draft was last week - Jake and I must have sent each other a thousand text messages debating picks, 40 yard dash times, cone drill speed, vertical jump height and so forth. Frankly, it's exhausting maintaining all of this information inside our brains but it's football and we love it.

We leave in a few days for Salt Lake City to attend Alec's graduation from the University of Utah. He is graduating summa cum laude with a degree in physics and minors in mathematics and chemistry.

We are all proud of his accomplishment and the dedication he put forth for this achievement. He could not have done this without the support of his lovely wife Tiffany so props to you girl. You rock.

Jake and Alec also helped coach the Highland High tennis team this spring under the direction of my longtime friend Mark Foote MD.

Today they reported that the team won the region and will be moving on to the state championships. It's neat at their age to have this kind of experience. I expect they even tossed a few gold bricks to the players such as, "Hit winners, don't make any unforced errors, and get your first serve in." Tennis is such an easy sport.

We were also blessed with the wonderful news a few months ago that Alec and Tiffany are expecting a baby in September - a girl.

This will be a new experience for the Runyon family. My father was one of three boys, I was one of two boys and Janae and I have 2 boys....I'm sure we'll figure it out. I'm told girls are easy. Haha. Admittedly, I was a little disappointed that it wasn't a boy since I had picked out the perfect name for the little fella... Earl. It's so old school cool that you know the kid's nickname would be "The Pearl." Plan 'B' even though they are having a girl is to name her "Gearl." Not holding out much hope for that one though.

The fierce Las Vegas winds have been blowing for a week now and it drives me crazy. Everything in a 4 block radius seems to wind up in our pool - even our yard furniture. My dad warned me 35 years ago that having a pool was overrated. I didn't listen - obviously. In Las Vegas, we really don't have a choice since it's often 115 degrees plus in the summer I find myself returning calls at 5pm from the pool with my head barely above the water cooling off. It gets so hot even the dogs go and stand in the pool.

Jake and I figured out that the NBA regular season is pretty much just a waste of time and that the real fun starts when the playoffs begin. Here's our philosophy: If a team is to win the title they have to eventually beat the Lakers...first round, second round, conference finals...whatever. The seeding process doesn't really matter. You have to win 4 series to get the title - no other way around it. Sometimes our genius is underrated.

If you want others to be happy, practice compassion.
If you want to be happy, practice compassion.

- Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama

Keith: Unplugged

2010-04-11T20:18:00.000-07:00

I just returned from a week in the Caribbean. No internet. No cell service - except for the one day in Cozumel where it probably cost me $300 bucks for a half dozen phone calls and email downloads. We have an unlimited international phone/text/data plan but always have "additional" charges each month. This begs the question: Why are these bills always so damn complicated? Answer: Because I'm with AT&T.

I confess that there is something deeply soothing and therapeutic about being unplugged from the rest of the world for a little while. Sure I missed the Donovan McNabb trade - that was a biggie. As a hugely devoted Eagle fan of 30+ years I was sad to see him go but that's life in the NFL. I also missed the start of major league baseball but since there are 2000+ more games left this year and they all look the same I'll get over it. I did get the CBS feed in our stateroom to watch the best NCAA mens basketball final in years and was cheering wildly for Butler by the way. I did not miss the political discourse that seems to take up so much of the news nowadays. The absence of information overload was cathartic. It allowed me to catch up on sleep (to the point where I now consider it a hobby). I sat in the sun and experienced some of the best people watching of my life. I read some wonderful books. I ate more red meat in a week than I usually do in a month and in summary, in the parlance of todays youth, I just "chilled."

Being out of digital loop made me think about the electronic gadgets that keep us tethered to our offices, friends, family,news, music and the world. It's all about data. Data, data, data.

There are iphones, blackberries, palms, ipods, kindles, playstations, laptops, Wii's, ipads, MP3's, macbooks, handheld games I have never heard of and so forth that allow us to talk, download/upload, correspond, be entertained and stay connected to each other 24/7. I remember the time when getting a letter was a big deal. When a long distance call was a big deal and would elicit a holler heard throughout the house if not the entire neighborhood, "Aunt Emma is calling LONG DISTANCE." (Since Aunt Emma and Uncle Joe lived in Ohio and we lived in California, would the call be anythying other than long distance?) I also remember seeing my first fax and thinking how cool that was. The fax, along with the handwritten letter - placed in an envelope, stamped and mailed - have been replaced, for better or worse, by "electronic mail" and attachments. We don't even get our photo's developed anymore (except for my mom) since they are all electronic images - does Kodak still exist?

The aforemetioned led to a discussion last week with others around my age about all the things our kids would consider utterly foreign like vinyl records, 8 track tapes, cassette tapes, top-loading washing machines, 4 burner stoves, 3 channels piped into the lone television in the house, no internet, a single refrigerator in the kitchen, no computers, no cell phones and all the things noted in the previous paragraph.

The downside to all of this electronic connectivity is that it's created a dependency and a led to a generation of paranoia. I remember being told as a kid to come home when the streetlights came on. Kids rarely leave home now and when they do, I would venture to guess that all of them have phones and are in constant communication with the mothership. I also recall the days of riding a bicycle without (gasp) a helmet. Nowadays, how often do you see kids riding bikes at all? Are there still bike racks at schools? Today mom's have added taxi service to their seemingly never ending list of tasks. Me? I rode a bike until I was 16.

The bottom line is, alas, that I like my gadgets. I just want to use them less but also find the thought of that absurd since I'm actually typing up this very blog post on a laptop via a wireless internet connection (how does THAT work man?), while laying on the sofa as my wife watches a program on a 60" TV that was recorded on a DVR while we were on vacation.

As 4 refrigerators humm throughout the house....

Foster Parents?

2010-03-21T14:48:00.000-07:00

An animal sanctuary here in Las Vegas burned to the ground the other day killing over a hundred birds, injuring others, and leaving many without a place to call home.

Enter my wife whose heart his bigger than her brain - and I mean that in a good way.

She called them this morning and offered up our house/yard/birdcage - in short, she offered us up as "foster parents" for displaced animals.

Of course Jake and I had a riot with this. Picture swans in the pool, parrots, cockatoos, conures and canaries in the bird cage and then of course an Emu or an Ostrich racing back and forth across the backyard pulling out and eating all the flowers I just planted. A camel would just about top it all off.

Will this really happen?

Don't know yet - haven't had a call back. But you know it would provide some hilarity.

Headline News

2010-03-05T23:48:00.000-08:00

These were just a couple of the headlines on CNN.com today - sometimes I just can't help myself....

"NFL star Roethlisberger accused of sexual assault." After the FIRST allegation last summer about the Lake Tahoe sexual assault "incident" the summer before that (I know, it's tough to follow the trevails of BB) you would think the Steelers braintrust would hire a guy just to drive Big Stupid Ben around and make sure he behaves himself. To be like Bob Sugar in the film "Jerry McGuire." Keep track of the stuff that needs keeping track of. In fact, that any athlete or celebrity is dumb enough to ever wind up with their mug shot on TMZ is beyond belief. Memo to Celebrities: Buy a limo, hire a driver and make sure he has spare clips in case a gunfight breaks out. Am I the only one who realizes this?

"French team destroys pirate boats." Well it's about damn time. And the French were the aggressors no less. The ship they were protecting must have had some seriously delicious baked goods and wine to warrant such aggression. But I like it. Shows some backbone. Leadership. To the French, my ancestors: Outstanding. Well done. Cheers. Let's take a look at this situation a little closer shall we? Huge cargo ships are being hijacked all the time in the Indian Ocean by Somali pirates in skiffs (THINK big canoe with a rickety, smokey outboard engine that takes like a dozen pulls to start up and just chugs oil and overall is just a very unsanitary ship).

Sure the pirates have a menacing look, stink to high heaven and even have those laughable handheld grenade launchers that they aren't sure which end the projectile is actually going to come out of if they do pull the trigger. Sort of a "Fire at Your Own Risk" type of weapon. But I reckon that somewhere in the Southeastern United States there are literally thousands and thousands of guys who would happily ride alongside these ships as security for these vessels using only their bass fishing boats or jetskis for free beer and all the rounds they could shoot.

Tempting I know.

"Paparazzi turn tables, fight back." I'm not sure what this means since I'm stilling laughing out loud just looking at the headline. Does this mean we could have a reality TV show with paparazzi duking it out with boy band members or have that geeky Edward guy from the Vampire movies in the Octogon? On pay-per-view? I'd watch Danny Bonnaducci climb in the ring....all drunk, piercings still in..... Or if Mickey Roarke wanted one last chance at glory. All puffed up, hair all thin and clumped together, dimwitted, scuffed up shoes, different color socks and wreaking of booze and marlboro reds. In fact, Mickey would have to have a clause allowing him to smoke while he fought. Mickey is one of the few people on the planet who smoke WHILE they sleep.

"First stimulus project almost done." I admit, this one stumped me. I kept going back and forth trying to guess what great stimulus project would be trumpeted out upon our nations news headlines... A new airport runway, a neutron collider, an electric car, a spaceship?

Surely it would be something that says "WOW. Look at the USA! We are back to kickin' ass again." Nope. In the middle of nowhere an $8 million bridge is nearing completion for a town of some 220 people.

"Congressmen: Exonerate Navy SEALs in Iraq incident." This is where our elite Navy guys captured a really bad Iraqi guy and roughed 'em up a bit. The Iraqi bad guy is responsible for the torture and killing of some US contractors in '03. This is a bad man. Our guys acted like how Jack Bauer operates on 24. Apparently a liberal faction believes that even terrorists should have the very same rights as US citizens. My argument and that of 99.999% of America is that the rules of war are short - probably fit 'em on the back of a business card. Killing the enemy is perfectly acceptable, even meritorious, behavior. This very nasty bad man who was roughed up was an enemy of the United States. Becuause of this, right now several Navy SEALS await trial in Iraq for their behavior. Our government has just turned logic upside down. Again.

"The Labor Department said the economy lost 36,000 jobs in the month, fewer than the 68,000 jobs economists were expecting, according to a survey conducted by Briefing.com." Who REALLY keeps track of all this stuff? I mean the numbers are certainly eye-popping. The continued loss of jobs is creepy. This concerns me. Start studying your Chinese folks.

"Report warns of low morale at Embassy in Afghanistan." That this is even news is laughable. How much did this report cost the US Government? Afghanistan? Even Afghanistan's don't want to live there. It's like living at the Nevada test site when the government detonated atomic bombs in the '50's. No A/C, 3 TV stations, closest grocery store is in downtown Kabul and the drivers there are suicidal (pun intended), bus service isn't consistent and they tend to blow up on occasion... Hell yeah morale would be low.

I'd rather be on a cruise.... off the shores of Somalia.

With a rifle.

Fighting pirates.

A Week in Solitary Confinement

2010-03-02T20:04:00.000-08:00

Among my shorting comings is a lack of patience. This is something I struggle with every day of my life.

Add that little personality hiccup to being sick to the point of not leaving the house or shaving for the past 6 days and I look like Ted Kaczynski.

Scruffy, hair unkept....... Being stuck in the house for 144 hours is taking it's toll on me.

Janae was out of the country for a spell so I was left to my own to self-medicate....I never do this good and it obviously didn't work out well. I was using leftover antibiotics from some shoulder surgery last summer....I even found some of grammy's cough medicine that had to be at least 13 months only, and tossed down whatever else Google and I could thought might help me. Didn't work. But I did watch some Patrick Swayze films over the weekend that were breathtakingly bad. Women liked this scrawny dude?

When Janae got home, things began to look up. She got the Doc on the line and hooked me up. I now take pills the size of batteries and wash them down with vitamin powdered water.

This has helped my throat and the itching in my ears that earlier made me want to take a piece of iron rebar and insert it in my ear to scratch the hell of it - push it through even...Yeah, that itchy.

Since the first few days swallowing felt like I was tossing back shots of broken glass I really didn't eat much and just groaned like all men do thinking this is it. This is the illness that will take my life. I just made sure that my underwear was clean like mom taught me.

I am also on some steroid medication that aside from shrinking my testicles and making my head big I'm not sure what it supposed to do. But I'll be a force to reckon with come softball this spring. Chicks dig the long ball.

I've been out of the loop so long I have trouble figuring out which day it is. I am deeply saddened that I cannot make the trip to Utah for the Ute-Cougar game. The Utes are going to run all over these guys - the crowd will be electric and the hatred between the squads is legendary. Possibly the most heated rivalry in the galaxy. I will be fiercely cheering on the Utes from afar.

Thoughts go out to the folks in Chile after their recent earthquake. Chile's quake was 8.8 on that scale no one knows what it means. This was one of the biggest quakes ever recorded...to the point it SHIFTED THE EARTHS AXIS so we lose like 1 millisecond a day now. That's a monster quake people. I looked up the formula to the richter scale and I found it had 3 numerals, 10 letters and a couple of symbols equation. My math uses numbers - thats it. Alec, little help on the richter scale eh buddy?

Olympics? They were okay. Even with the games on the west coast, ESPN still beat NBC by telling us the winners since the TV coverage was just so assbackwards. Things about the Olympics stick out:

1) I loved the hockey and was bummed that the USA lost the gold. Should have played double elimination.
2) I'm was sick of hearing aboutg Lindsey Vonn's shin - worse than Albert Freeney's ankle pre-SB.
3) Love Bode Miller. He does it his way. I like his attitude.
4) Freestyle skiing and freestyle aerials are my favorite competitions to watch.
5) Shawn White is a likeable dude - and his stunts are jaw-dropping.
6) Finally, I'm tired of Apolo.

I heard that some people actually go into a post-olympic depression that requires medical treatment. While this sounds absurd, I know for sure that millions of men go into a post football depression so maybe there is some truth to that statement.

Deer Valley 2010

2010-02-18T18:36:00.000-08:00

The other night, I dusted off my skis and cleaned the cobwebs out of my ski boots - I even stretched.

We were in SLC for the UNLV-Utah basketball game, followed by a day of skiing and an ultrasound of baby Earl.

I always love flying into Salt Lake. Not only is it pretty, the best part is that it's about an hour and 15 minutes flying time....versus a 6 hour car ride. I am all about efficiency. Plus, I hate that drive.

Nine of us met at Benihana for our pre-game meal. The kids brought friends and our lovely nieces had driven up from Provo to cheer on the Rebels. You gotta love the samuri chefs that work the grill, holler in Japanese, and cook everything right in front of you. I just nod a lot and eat what they put in front of me. We were ready for some basketball.

The game was interesting. Here's UNLV - one of the elite teams in the conference playing mid-level Utah. This is a game UNLV should win but the Utes are just a terrible matchup for the Rebels so they lost their 3rd game in a row. I did wear my Utah sweatshirt at the game while the rest of my clan all wore rebel gear. And when the rebels scored, their cheering was about the only noise in the Huntsman Center.

Thursday meant skiing for me and an ultrasound for Tiffany.

Deer Valley opened 30 years ago and is a place I wouldn't be caught dead at during my heyday of mogul skiing and other apres ski activity. The slopes were too groomed, tissue boxes in the lift lines, they sold wine by the glass....you know, it was sort of a hoighty toighty place for non-skiers.

Alas, I have become what I once despised.

Deer Valley is right up my alley now. Groomed runs, good food options, and no lines.

Still, this day was no walk in the park.

Walking in ski boots is never a chic thing and try as I must to maintain coolness, it's just not possible. The heel-toe rock in ski boots remains as dorky today as it was 20 years ago. I was tired by the time I got in line to buy my lift ticket. Worry lines had already deepened on my mug.

My ski buddy and longtime friend Mark is one of those uber healthy doctors. 6'1" maybe 180 pounds, plays a lot of tennis, does CARDIO and has a banana/yogurt/energy bar for breakfast. Me? I need a navy breakfast. Eggs, hashbrowns, bacon, toast, juice - the works.

The first run wasn't so bad - warming up the motor by avoiding kids snowplowing and old guys zig-zagging back and forth bent over like they are pulling weeds. Hysterical. Hopping one lift after another to the top of the mountain and by the 3rd or 4th run I was feeling a serious burn in my thighs. My lungs were doing so great either. Frankly, I couldn't wait until Mark wanted to stop for lunch and have his oatmeal or a fruitcup and I could wolf down some chili, and a baconcheeseburger with fries and onion rings.

The last few runs of the day were on the black diamond runs. At Deer Valley these expert runs aren't terribly difficult since there aren't any moguls to speak of. The runs are just steep and long. By this time, I needed to blow about every 300 yards. I could manage the legs, but the lungs were heaving. I realized that the effort getting into and out of a golf cart doesn't provide the cardio work necessary to ski at 10,000 feet as well as I would like to. As Mark said, "The mind is willing, but the body is unable." I hope you were just talking about skiing there Mark.

The soreness that is searing my body right now - even some 3 days later - is that good kind of soreness where you know you did somethign physical and pushed your limits. I was also proud of not falling. I did tip over at one point but since I wasn't skiing, that does not count - just like kills below the hard deck in Top Gun.

I had a wonderful time and look forward to skiing again soon in a few weeks. In the meantime, I have some serious work to do for my legs and lungs. This should be interesting.

The best part of the quick trip was seeing baby Earl's sonogram. I took one look at it and blurted, "It's a boy," and was quickly shut down by the girls, "Uhhhh....Those are his arms."

"Oh."

Jake and I just laughed.

Like we always do.

Winter Olympic Thoughts

2010-02-13T09:50:00.000-08:00

As always, the winter games conjur up images of athletes in colorful uniforms and and nations coming togther in peace to compete in sporting events that most of us have, at best, a general ideal of the rules. Sure the speed events are easy; he who goes fastest wins. Speed skating, alpine skiing, cross country....these events use timers. Picking the winner is easy.

It's the events that are judged that tend to fuel controvery. Events like ice skating, ice dancing, ski jumping, and so forth are all judged by nations that have political axes to grind against one another so this throws a loop in the entire process.

Here's some of the more interesting events at the winter games: Biathalon - this is where guys on cross country skis are carrying a rifle. They have to ski on a set course, and stop at specific intervals to shoot targets - this can go on for hours. Who thinks up this stuff up? Where is the snowshoe race? How about Skeeball every 100 yards?

Another interesting event is short track speed skating. This is where a dozen guys are crammed onto the rink the size of a basketball court and go like hell from the gun. The scary part about all this is the size of the blades on the skates - they are like two feet long and are razor sharp - odds of someone getting a nasty slice: 50/50....so you have to watch that. It's sort of like watching auto racing - you just wait for the crash.

The snowboarders always provide great theater. They're like surfers only in winter gear....laid back, unruly hair, and stoned, but in a cute way.

I don't get the difference between pairs ice skating and pairs ice dancing. Little help on that one. Aren't they pretty much the same? I mean, I saw Blades of Glory.

The luge/skeleton/bobsled events all use the same track. Here's the difference in the disciplines; bobsleds are large roller coaster-like carts designed by NASA or Ferrari engineers to provide perfect aerodynamics. Sleds have either 2 or 4 man teams. The luge is where guys go feet first on a sled; one or two man events are held - the sled can be steered and has brakes. Sadly, a European luger was killed yesterday when we flew off the track during a training run and hit a metal pole at 90MPH. The skeleton riders are like the guys from JackAss....they go face first and their sleds have no steering or brakes. I'm sure we get a lot of skeleton riders from our fraternity brothers across the country.

Skiing is my favorite - the alpine events require speed; that's an easy way to pick a winner. Freestyle is always exciting but judges have a vote that can easily create controversy. Moguls require speed but jumps and technique are judged. Aerials are judged 100%....and are the most spectator friendly of all the events. Guys doing triple twising quadruple flips? I'm dizzy just writing that trick down.

Hockey? We get enough hockey already.

Curling? Sorry, should not count.

The next two weeks will mean national bragging rights are on the line for probably 10 of the 90 countries at the games. Realisticaly, any team from Africa, Central or South America doesnt' have a snowballs chance in Vancouver of getting a medal.

But you never know.....and that's why we watch.

The Dead Zone

2010-02-08T22:18:00.000-08:00

Now that football is over with we are entering the dead zone.

Sure there is March Madness to look forward to and then a few months later the NBA playoffs, some hockey games, a few golf tournaments, the start and end of baseball, a little tennis. some bowling and I almost forgot, the Winter Olympic Games.....code for snooze fest.

Curling? Really? This is an Olympic sport? This is the equivalent of shuffleboard on a cruise ship and people my age and older compete. This event should be held on a frozen lake in Minnesota and ribbons given out not medals.

How about the two man luge? I crack up at this one. This is where one guy in spandex lays down on top of another guy dressed in spandex and they speed down a steep bobsled-like run.....must be a european thing.

The Super Bowl was great - three thrillers in a row now. The NFL has this thing rigged better than any NBA game don't you think? Our house was divided on Super Sunday; 1/2 of the group was for the Colts and the other half was for the Saints and half of those pulling for the Saints actually thought the Colts would win. I was outnumbered like 11-1. In the end, the Saints were victorious - what a great win for the good folks of N'Awlins. I'm sure the party is just getting started.

Jake spent the weekend down here which was great. We went to the Rebel game to see them blow out a good BYU team. Next up New Mexico. All three teams are tied for first place in tne conference.

Training camp for the NFL is 5 months away - in between we've got the combine, the draft and the usual free agent carousel. These little tidbits will keep the flame alive until late summer. Let's hope the Eagles upgrade their defense this off-season.

Shot a 36 on the front nine the other day. It's funny, the more time I spend away from the course, the better I shoot. If I played every day I would be in the 40's.

Valentines Day on the horizon.....skiing right after that.

Who Dat in the Super Bowl?

2010-01-24T22:12:00.000-08:00

We are spent after grilling up 20 lbs of ribeye's and watching an epic OT NFC title game.

I'm checking the weather channel now to see if hell has frozen over.

Why? The N'awlins Saints are in the Super Bowl. Who dat? Dem Saints?

Not only do I want the Saints to win the Super Bowl in 2 weeks, I want them to clobber the Colts into oblivion. A month ago I used to like Indy. The Colts had a chance for a perfect season and they chucked it....lost their final 2 games to "rest" their starters.

Barf.

You don't rest anyone when you have a shot at sports immortality. When you are 14-0 you put your foot on the throat of your opponent and not let up. No wonder why Urban Meyer got sick.....he watched the Colts lose.... ON PURPOSE.

Let's face it folks, no one remembers who won the Super Bowl 5 years ago but everyone remembers that the Dolphins were the last NFL team to go undefeated. Richard Nixon was POTUS then. And frankly, we're all more than a little sick and tired of Mercury Morris and Co. reminding us how great that '73 team was.

After the Saints were 13-0, a reporter asked Sean Payton if New Orleans would try and go undefeated even if they had home field advantage wrapped up. His reply, "Hell yeah." This is a guy I would follow into battle. And who doesn't like the Drew Brees story? Hollywood couldn't have scripted this storyline any better - I'm buying Saint gear tomorrow.

The Colts were thisclosetogreatness....

And they rested their starters.

New Orleans has everything going against and most of the homes look like Fred Sanford's yet for some reason, the city and people live on and today the Who Dat Nation celebrates the Saints first ever Super Bowl birth. Huge. Huuuuuuuuge.

Go Saints

Perspective

2010-01-13T21:20:00.001-08:00

I can't help but think of what it is like in Haiti right now.

Most of the time my blog posts drip with sarcasm but tonight as I sit down to write my first post of the new year, I am overwhelmed by the human suffering going on in Port-au-Prince.

I've been to many poor parts of the world and even in good times, without a natural catastrophe, most of these people struggle just to eat and live their lives each day in peace.

I've been to Haiti - before the government got a little dicey. Okay, a lot dicey. Our cruise ship had anchored a few hundred yards offshore so we took a ferry to an island retreat owned by the cruise company. A gated and guarded retreat. At the end of a day at the beach, I was buying some souvenirs at a shop and looked up, not 50 feet away, to see hundreds of Haitian's lined up along the fence just staring with a sort of lost look in their eyes at the many loud, sunburned (not me), and crass (not me either) Americans. The chasm that separated our lives was apparent to me perhaps like no other time before in my life. Some experiences in life you just don't forget.

I've had a very good and privileged life. The thought of not having essentials like food, medicine, clothing and a roof over my head has never once entered into my noggin'. Most of us take that stuff for granted. I grew up in the Golden Age of America. In the 1960's we kicked ass. As schoolkids were we pretty much taught that the United States wasn't only the land of the free, but the best place to live for dozens of reasons. We built the best stuff - remember when we'd laugh at stickers that said "Made in Japan?" - mom's stayed home, television was wholesome, athletes were role models and so on. I loved every second of my life growing up. My wife and I playfully argue about who had the better gig growing up. It's a tie.

As I get older, each calamity, be it an earthquake, tidal wave (can't spell Tsunami), hurricane or, sadly, those man-made catastrophes like school shootings or the bombing death of so many innocent people compels me revisit what is truly important in life. These thoughts become more important the older I get as the man-made stuff, alas, becomes more frequent.

On one hand, I am grateful to have my health back. After struggling with sleep apnea for a few years, I no longer have to use the magic sleep machine. I'm cured. Recent sinus surgery and shoulder surgery over the summer, both of which were optional, are procedures that we often take for granted. I know I do. In most parts of the world, if you shoulder aches, surgery isn't an option - chew on a cocoa leaf. These procedures made me better than before. I feel 30 and act, still, live I'm 15. Sorry Janae.

We probably throw out more food than we eat. Our dogs and cats live better than most people. I have and absurd number of high def TV's (13), more cars than I can drive, more bedrooms than I need, more houses than I can live in and yet I often bitch about my lot in life.

Then something like an earthquake happens.

My priorities re-calibrate.

It's about perspective man.

I know I'm not alone in this "me first" thinking. Rational self-interest is programmed into our DNA. At some point however we humans learned to have compassion for others and times like today weigh heavy on all of our hearts.

My plea tonight is that you toss the relief effort in Haiti a few bucks through the aid organization of your choice - you will be glad you did.

And "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff." Like the book by Richard Carlson of the same name only he added, ".....and it's all small stuff."

Except earthquakes.

The End of 2009

2009-12-29T11:00:00.000-08:00

Where did 2009 go?

Where did the DECADE go? Damn - that was a fast 10 years.

Seems like yesterday.....In the latter part of 1999 there was a ton of chatter about Y2K and the possibility that when the clock struck midnight on January 1 microchips in computers and electronic devices wouldn't recognize the year 2000 from the year 1900. The computer geeks were seriously stressed out over this.

Personally, I didn't think my microwave or TV really cared what year it was. I just wanted to make sure they both worked and I was able to heat up leftover pizza and watch sports but apparently the banking industry was a tad anxious about this date since interest payments and deposits could get screwed up.

Alas, as our family gathered around the TV set, breathless, we watched New Year's celebrations unfold in Australia, then Russia, Paris, London, NYC and around the globe until it was the pacific time zone's turn....

and...

NOTHING bad happened.

Our TV's kept working, planes didn't fall out of the sky, our cars and power grids didn't fail and the banking industry survived pretty much intact for another 8 years until that finally blew up.

The new year will bring some milestones...

I will turn 50 in 2010. I certainly don't feel 50 and my wife frequently reminds me that I certainly don't act my age (is that a compliment or a jab?). Sometimes my back feels that old, but for the most part each day I'm walkin' tall and feelin' good. I haven't used the magic sleep machine in over 2 months. Sleep apnea? Cured.

Alec will complete his physics degree in 2010. When he get's straight A's in the spring, he'll graduate with a perfect GPA. I gotta believe that's hard to do. I'm proud of his work ethic. Apparently the math gene skips a generation since my dad was a gearhead yet I still can't balance my checkbook. Hmmmmmmmm

Jake will take his handsome mug to the U of Utah and begin the great experience that is college life. Look out world.

Me? I am committed to a return to the ski slopes - frequently. I'll pass on the mogul skiing that took up a good part of my youth but I'm ready for steep and deep powder runs and the beautiful solitude that exists in the Wasatch mountain range.

I'd also like to go see this part of the world....Petra, Jordan.

Oh and I'd like to talk my wife into getting a new dog.

A Great Dane.

Christmas Shopping: How it's Done

2009-12-23T16:05:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again. Everyone stressing out about Christmas. Not me. I'm good.

The emotional rollercoaster ride of flying to South America, seeing Jake again, touring Ecuador and returning home has subsided. I'm rested, relaxed and ready for the classic "Days Before Christmas" scamper.

This is when I do my best shopping of the year.

Frankly, most of the stuff I buy is delivered to my doorstep by UPS or Fedex. There is zero hassle in shopping from home on my trusty laptop. I can't even remember all the stuff I've purchased over the past few weeks so it's actually fun for me to open up the boxes to see what I ordered on ambien.

I do however enjoy going to the mall to feel of the holiday spirit although sometimes this goes badly since people are all jacked up on stress or booze or pills and sometimes all three (eg: Tiger).

There are the usual parking lot arguments, long lines and my personal favorite: Screaming kids accompanying an overly stressed mom . These monsters are twisting their moms arm off, snot running down their faces, lying on the floor, germs everywhere. Live theater - the best. I prefer to shop alone....I like being by myself....The Lone Ranger.

I wandered around the mall today and picked up a few things. It was EASY. I also hit up the gift card center at Von's. Check this out: in the past I would race from one place to another picking up gift cards. This took a lot out of me. Last year I discovered that Von's has an area in their stores that have pretty much every gift card you would want from airlines to restaurants to Home Depot to Michaels....I don't even have to set foot inside these joints. I picked up 17 gift cards today and it took me 5 minutes. I believe I have perfected the art of Christmas shopping.....for a guy that is.

It's true. Look it up.

Adventures in Ecuador: Seeing Jake Again

2009-12-19T21:10:00.000-08:00

We're back from our sojourn to Ecuador. Loved it. Loved it. Loved it.

There is a sultry smell to South America that is born of heat, humidity, sweat, dirt, car exhaust and the occasional rainstorm. I just couldn't ever feel completely clean once I left the confines of the air-conditioned hotel but that's part of the experience.

Ecuador? It has American power. The electrical plugs were just like back home. No European vacation-like blowing out the circuits. Computers, phones, and Kindles were always fully charged.

Ecuador's official currency? The United States dollar.

What's on TV on Sunday in Ecuador? American Futbol.

Is it just me, or is this country screaming to be the 51st state?

Not only did we have football games on the TV but were blessed to an NFL triple-header that ended with the Eagles beating the Giants to take over sole possession of first place in the NFC Beast. I felt like I was back home just without the HD.

By the time our crew got to Ecuador, we had about 24 hours until we picked up our missionary. Since Alec is fluent in Spanish, we turned over our shopping negotiations to him. By the time monday arrived, Janae was more than ready to see her son again. Me too. The 2pm scheduled pickup took place 23 excrutiatingly slow minutes later. When the door to the office finally opened, there was our Jake. We embraced and in a split second the last 2 years seemed to have past in an instant. First impressions: He was taller than before. Tan. Skinny. Handsome. Seeing him for the first time in 2 years was better than I could have ever scripted it.

Of course the reunion with Jake required a lot of hand sanitizer. Allow me to explain. Shaking hands with a dozen missionaries who shook hands with at least 3 dozen people who had done heaven knows what earlier in the day necessitated my overusage of purell to the point of exhaustion. Once I thought I was fully disinfected, another missionary would waltz in and shake everyones hand. Again. Grrrrr……

Our first stop after dropping off the luggage was to Iguana Park. Riding in a cab through some serious traffic, windows down, I gulped in so much car exhaust that it gave me a splitting headache. That soon passed once we started playing with the reptiles. Iguanas were everyone...in the trees, on the grass, cruising the park for food and posing for pictures with the gringo family from Las Vegas.

We spent a lot of time visiting with some of the families that Jake had grown close to while serving in Guayquil. Just like our trip to Peru a few years ago to pick up Alec, we fell in love with the people we met.

On Tuesday we hopped a bus for a 3 hour ride to Machala. I heard that in the United States some bus companies offer a “frequent rider” program that mirrors airline mileage awards. Do you know how pathetic your life is if you have a frequent rider bus card? In South America, the buses are a necessity - and surprisingly, they run pretty much like clockwork.

I digress.

Machala is the banana capital of the world. Seriously. We were treated to a variety of different bananas. This gringo had previously thought there was only 1 kind of banana....I now stand corrected.

The best part of the trip was providing Christmas presents to Freddy and his family. That a family of 5 live in what is essentially a hut on stilts was, to me, profoundly sad. Their "home" is about 15 feet x 15 feet. 2 twin beds. There is no running water, no toilet, and a single electrical outlet that powered up an old refrigerator. The place reeked too - It took me a half hour to peg the smell. It smelled like the inside of a fishing creel - you know, with dead fish. The 3 boys loved their gifts and were probably the most well behaved 10, 9, and 8 year olds I have ever been around.

The mean streets of Machala required that we take cabs everywhere...even if it was for only a few blocks. A family we visited with insisted we take this precaution. I told Jake to translate the following: "In America, my dad's hands are registered as weapons." Laughter all around. "Take a cab," was their reply.

"Ok. I believe you."

Leaving Ecuador was difficult and not just because of the people we said farewell to....

The airport in Guayaquil is apparently staffed with patients from a mental hospital.
Delta didn’t open the first class check in line so we had to stand in line behind the Ecuadorian circus in order to get boarding passes and check our bags. This took at least a half hour. The sarcasm began to drip from my mouth....sometimes I can't stop it. I am impatient.

Then comes the Ecuadorian extortion part: Another line over to the left is for some sort of airport tax....$28 bucks per head on the way out of the country – cash only. This is not in any travel book. The guy then short changes me by $10 bucks which we corrected on the spot.

Starvin' we had two choices at 10pm; a frozen hot croissant (I know), or a tuna fish sandwich. We opted for the croissant not knowing that the outside would be piping hot while the inside remained frozen. Yum yum. Burp.

Leaving only got worse after that. Going through security I was wanded for the 1st time but was able to keep my shoes on. We were being paged. I was summoned to go downstairs for a luggage check. Hmmmmmnnnn???? Despite numerous international adventures, this was a first: One of our bags was randomly selected to be searched. I was escorted down the jetway, down a set of stairs, walked past a couple of jet aircraft and taken to the bowels of the luggage area. Once there, I was told to select my bag. There were 3 very serious looking dudes wearing cammo pants, combat boots and tight black t-shirts standing by. One of them picked his way through the luggage and sniffed anything that might conceal Ecuadorian artifacts or drugs. I was also wanded a second 2nd time. After 20 minutes I was escorted back to the gate.

Strange.

Now it was time to board the plane. I was wanded 3rd time; my carry on baggage was searched by hand also for the 3rd time and by now I was really being sarcastic with the patients who were running the assylum. I was in group 1 to board and ended up being the last person on the plane. Alec, Tiffany and Jake were laughing as they passed me taking off my belt, emptying my pockets for the umpteenth time and having steam come out of my ears.

Once onboard I needed a cold fresca...but the lazy-ass flight attendant said there would be no ground service so they could get the plane off faster.

Puzzled look on Keith's face. "Come again?"

Then my headphone battery dies just as plane takes off. 5+ hours of airplane noise. No Led Zeppelin. No Stones. No Tommy Bolin. Uggghhhhhh…….

You know what though? All the hassles of traveling were more than worth it so we could go and see where Jake has spent the last 2 years of his life.

We love having Jake back.

It's About Damn Time

2009-12-10T09:35:00.000-08:00

It's time.

2 years have come and gone since we last saw our dear, dear Jake. On Friday Janae and I will hop a flight to Quito, Ecuador, spend the night sucking air at 10,000 feet, and then ride by burro to Guayaquil the next day. Alec and Tiffany will be traveling the same route exactly one day behind us due to work and school commitments. I'll leave markers on the side of the trail for them. I love the element of danger that exists in South America. There is something about the quasi-lawlessness that appeals to me.

My brother will be staying at the house and guarding it while we are gone. I haven't fed the dogs for a few days so they will be alert and cranky if any bad guys make the mistake of dropping by the house. Eric's flattop and ink should be sufficient to scare off any intruders as well, but I've set the perimeter alarms and supplied extra ammo around the house sort of how Dr.Robert Neville set up his place in "I am Legend."

We will see Jake on Monday. This will allow us a day to rest up from our travels and scope out the town before we meet up with our son. Jake is SO EXCITED to show us the places he has served over the past 2 years. Having been to South America before, we are prepared for anything. I have packed up the essentials: Beef jerky, immodium and gatorade.

I have always loved the following piece that was written by General Douglas McArthur. He wrote it to his son while in the Phillipines during WWII. It was made
after his death in 1964.

A Father's Prayer by General Douglas McCarthur

Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough
To know when he is weak and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid;
One who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat,
And humble, and gentle in victory.

Build me a son whose wishes will not take the place of deeds;
A son who will know Thee – and that to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge.

Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort, but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenge. Here, let him learn to stand up in the storm; here let him learn compassion for those that fail.

Build me a son whose heart will be clear, whose goal will be high, a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men, one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past.

And after all these things are his, add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor, so that he may always be serious, yet never take himself too seriously. Give him humility, so that he may always remember the simplicity of true greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, and the meekness of true strength.

Then I, his father, will dare to whisper, "I have not lived in vain."

I am proud of both my sons. You rock.

Pretzel Logic: What's Wrong Wiff the BCS

2009-12-07T10:01:00.000-08:00

For those of you who aren't football fans, BCS stands for Bowl Championship Series. The member conferences of the BCS are the ACC, SEC, Big 10, Big 12, Pac 12, and Big East.

Somehow these conferences conspired together to create the BCS and in the process aced all the other conferences in the country out of the big money bowl games that are held each year after the college football regular season winds down. These so-called "elite" conferences or "power conferences" made the big money grab of alltime..... and no one stopped them.

All other NCAA sports whose teams compete for a national title use a playoff format that consists of more than 2 teams - which is the current maximum # of BCS title game participants. You read that correct: 2 teams make the playoff. Even Division II and Division III football programs have a playoff in order to ensure that every qualified team has a shot at the title. The games are thrilling to watch.

The lucky participants of the BCS title game are decided by computers that are as sophisticated as those used to launch the space shuttle. Two teams are selected. And make no mistake, 2 great football teams WILL meet at the Rose Bowl on January 7, 2010....it's just that another 3 or 4 teams, maybe more, have LEGITIMATE arguments to also be included in that very game.

Every single year there are at least a couple of teams that should be included in the discussion of who should play for the national title. Last year it was Utah and Boise State, this year it's TCU, Cincy and Boise State....again.

Why the NCAA FBS schools can't get together and figure out a better plan is annoying has hell.

Arguments for maintaining the current system are laughable:

Many BCS proponents wish to maintain the integrity of the bowl games. This is BS. Bowl games sold their soul and with it their integrity 2 decades ago to sponsors waving wheelbarrels of cash. The younger crowd doesn't remember this, but the "Tostitos Fiesta Bowl" was once just called simply "The Fiesta Bowl." Players wore sombrero's and panchos instead of snacking on tostitos scoops or Tostitos Restaurant Style Chips with Hint of Lime.... The Fedex Orange Bowl was once, you guessed it, just known as "The Orange Bowl." It was played in a rickety old stadium that was named, guess again, The Orange Bowl.

Really, who cares about all those meaningless bowl games - and they are all meaningless except one of them. A playoff would provide instant credibility to EVERY BOWL GAME since the loser goes home. What better motivation is there for kids having to play in Las Vegas in cold and windy December than the winner gets to move on and play the next week in Orlando? Or Miami? Or New Orleans?

Arguments that school administrators use like "keeping kids in school" are laughable. These very same schools HOLD THEIR BREATH while the NCAA Men's Basketball field is picked HOPING their school gets an invite - no matter how much class the kids miss. A ticket to the big dance means money and prestige. It's the golden circus ticket.

For once I would like to see an Athletic Director decline a NCAA tournament bid based on the grounds that the kids just can't miss any more classes. That'll never happen. Never, yet they use that argument against a football playoff all the time. I'll go out on a limb and say that football players are, generally speaking, smarter than their basketball counterparts so if any group needs to stay in school for class, it's certainly the basketball players.

2 years ago Ohio State played their last conference game 51 days before playing for the BCS title. Not only was the product on the field lousy after not competing for nearly 2 months, but many saturdays were wasted on meaningless Pointsetta/GMAC/Bell Helicopter bowl games. These games meant nothing.

So why does the BCS continue to operate and essentially freeze out all of the other conferences except those in the BCS? Shouldn't "National Championship" mean that all schools have the opportunity to play for the title and not just the SEC, Big 12, Pac 12, ACC, Big East, and Big 10 schools?

What if, for example, the same logic was applied to the men's basketball tournament? Schools would freak out if the BCS template was used in basketball yet somehow the BCS supporters most of whom are fat, white, crazy, old, plaid jacket-wearing, skirt-chasing dinosaurs don't want to pull back from the money trough. They are blinded by greed. to the detrimant of the entire system, the BCS lives on.

It's time to blow up the BCS for good. It's time for a college football playoff. Hey Obama, alittle help here.

Why I Need a TV Show

2009-12-01T22:20:00.000-08:00

3:15pm Tuesday

"Uh oh... Houston....We have a problem."

That was the first part of the text message from my wife.

My first thought was that we hit a snag with the Christmas party that is scheduled for this Friday.

Nope.

The rest of the message spelled out the problem thusly:

"Basement flooding, Pedro on the way."

The connotations that come to mind when the word "flooding" is used are always scary. And in my mind, the entire pool had emptied itself into the basement. As usual, my brain tends to think in extremes.

I tossed my laptop into my bag and sped home. Images of water lapping against the basement steps and a lot of sparks emanating from all the electronics downstairs swirled around inside my head.

As luck would have it Coco had sent her son Javier to the basement to store some boxes when he noticed the floor on the east end was taking on water. The room is used for storage and of most of the stuff down there is kept in rubbermaid containers...even the gun safe is raised up just a skosh to prevent water intrusion. Javier hollered something in Spanish and Coco and Co. rushed downstairs to begin immediately mopping and cleaning up the water.

The Spanish got even faster and louder at that point.

Apparently, as one of the pool pumps was being worked on, a ghost in the machine turned the system on and water began spewing out of the pump against the house, which soaked the ground and seeped into the places that water goes and finally wound up bleeding out of the lowest part of the house - the basement.

No one was manning the pool equipment when it turned into a water feature as Pedro was en route to get a part for the pump. I think I MAY have switched the system from "Service" to "Normal" at some overzealous point last night. Okay, so maybe I was partially to blame for this circus. Partially.

After the pump was shut off, the boxes were cleared out of the room and the floor mopped up, it was time to survey the damage. The good part is that we live in the driest climate in the country. The walls, floor and ground will dry without question. Mold? This word has taken on such dreadful meaning in the past few years but I am convinced that since the pool is filled with chlorinated water we won't have an issued with mold. That's my plan and I'm sticking to it. Mold has been around forever - deal with it.

From this little hiccup I sped to church. Cleaning time again. Once again I pulled bathroom and toilet duty. Wearing rubber gloves I can clean anything so it wasn't a big deal plus the other people there to help clean weren't really the cleaning types. Sure then can wave a duster around, or vacuum. When the ox is stuck in the quagmire you do what you gotta do. Me? I can clean.

We had signed up a few weeks ago to feed the missionaries on this particular evening and like the other times we have done this we ended up ordering pizza and wings since we ALWAYS find ourselves double or triple booked when we offer to provide dinner.

The sister missionaries met us at church and followed us home. They were from Salt Lake and Milwaukee respectively. We talked, they ate. An hour passed. By now, the activities committee had started arriving at the house....more people. More meetings. More things to plan and review.

9:30pm and the last guests were leaving....

They were admiring our Christmas lights....

Janae let the dogs out....

Ray Ray raced to pee on his favorite tree....

That had lights wrapped around it

Lights Out.

This. Is. My. Life.

My 50th Year

2009-11-29T12:57:00.000-08:00

I was born in Nashua, New Hampshire 49 years ago yesterday. Lying in bed this sunny morning in Las Vegas, Nevada I realized that my 50th year on this planet has commenced. Half a century. Tick tock tick tock. Jake turned 21 the day before - on the 27th. Our baby. Twenty-one years old.

Aging...everyone is doing it.

Jake called from Ecuador yesterday to discuss our arrival there in 2 weeks and that was the best birthday gift of all.

We are all very excited to see him for the first time in nearly 2 years. Alec and Tiffany were here at the house so Jake was able to talk to all of us and fill us in on what to bring along on the trip and what to leave at home and exactly how we would locate him once we got there. Of course the trip begins by plane and we'll spent a night in Quito before journeying to Guayquil. Then comes the bus, the burro and the river crossing - although I'm told not to worry since the pirahnna's are usually found further south. We'll wade through the current, backpacks held high, and then begin the trek on foot. Hopefully our guide will locate the mission outpost before dark.

Jake seemed unusually serious about our leaving the good stuff back home; ie watches, diamonds, rubies, gold...you know all the baubles. But really, I mean, it's Ecuador....I have more weapons at home than their military has combined. Plus all the hand-to-hand combat moves that we have watched on TV over the years and practiced on ourselves - Ecuador? Ha! I'm not worried. I know for a fact that we are going to have some screwball adventures that will make the blog highlight reel...or maybe even CNN.

The long Thanksgiving weekend ALWAYS means that the Holiday decorations get busted out. Now the maddening thing is the size of our house and the fact that only two of us live there yet....WE STILL NEED OFFSITE STORAGE FOR OUR STUFF. We just have a lot of stuff. Christmas stuff. Halloween stuff. Valentines day stuff. 4th of July stuff. Ton's of coolers (where are my coolers Ben?). Luggage. Luggage. Luggage. What is it with luggage?

Even though our stuff is stored indoors at a site a few blocks from Chez Runyon, the fierce Las Vegas dust storms have a way of coating everything with a thin layer of fine dust - it's everywhere and even INSIDE the tree bag and rubbermaid boxes. Grit everywhere. Big sigh.

Since this is another "Big Year" with Jake's return, the house has to be just right. The outdoor light crew was supposed to start last week - they didn't. As of today, only a few trees are wrapped. One guy puts up a strand of lights and then takes a smoke break. At this rate, we'll be lucky to have lights before we leave. Every year we go Clark Griswold-style and we've used the same guy for years so you would think he would be organized. He puts up the lights. He takes down the lights. He stores the lights. This year? Chaos. Tension. How can I tell? 3 day growth of stubble. 1am text messages and his truck parked sideways with it's ass end sticking out in the street. Skidding-in style. The guy is buried plus his girlfriend/manager dumped him. No girl = no organization. Even I know this.

Under Janae's supervision I artfully hung the mall balls at the intersection of the entryway and the main hallway. We love the mall balls - unique.....mall-like but in a home. Each year I sweat my ass off putting those up since I'm about 12 feet up in the air and hot air rises.....plus I have to space them just right. If you know what I mean. This year I only had to put them up twice.

The next project was the tree.....er...I mean TREES. We put up three of them.

Tree #1

The one in the game room was NEVER taken down from last year so that one's already up. I need to jiggle the lights, add some ornaments and what not but we're good there. Lazy but good.

Tree #2

The living room tree was given away last year so we need a new one. I think we are going LIVE for this year only. I'm not sold on all this "Going Green" crap either. The problem with the old tree was the lighting. Prelit trees are sensitive and everyone KNOWS how if you mess up one teeny light on any strand you are SOL. The entire tree goes dark. Janae also didn't like the fact that upon close inspection, someone might just notice that it's a fake tree. I have no opinion one way or another on this matter.

Tree #3

The best for last. This tree was moved from the storage unit to be erected on a spindle in a place of honor in our home. Alec and I lugged the tree into the family room, set up the spindle and began to assemble the tree. Our job nearly complete, I put the top part of the tree on and it promptly flopped over sideways - broken pole. Ugghhh. By now, I had white flock all over me. What to do? I did what any straight guy would do: I balanced the top part - sort of gerryrigged it if you will - climbed off the ladder and beamed to everyone, "That oughta do it."

Laughter.

Janae was already on the phone to Paddock. Apparently the tree has a 15 year warranty so they replaced it. This is a FIRST. Usually I miss the warranty period by a day or two....we were 12 years EARLY on this one!

Tree #3 is up. Slightly tilted but up. I need to work on the spindle part tonight. The motor is wheezing under the weight of all the stuff (there's that word again). May need to call in Pedro.

And so we begin our 2009 holiday escapades.....

Stay tuned. The funny stuff is coming.

The Silly Season

2009-11-26T18:12:00.000-08:00

IT. HAS. BEGUN.

Thanksgiving means that The Silly Season has officially commenced. Actually, it started a few weeks ago with all those oh-so-sappy jewelry store ads on TV.

Zales, Jared, Kay Jewelers each produce such incredibly lame commercials they make me laugh out loud and mock the ad.... in an English accent no less. This makes me laugh even more. I DO crack myself up.

We opted to go eat at Canyon Gate and avoid blowing up the kitchen which is what usually happens for any Thanksgiving feast to occur. Eric and mom joined us and the four of us had a nice time; we laughed, stuffed ourselves, and enjoyed the incredible people watching. I realized I had eaten too much meat which would be a rare occurrence but the triple offering of pork loin, prime rib and turkey was just too much for me to resist. My vow of giving up red meat except for steaks, roasts and hamburgers remains intact though.

We spied a rather odd thing at the club that made us go, "Really?" A lady seated at the table next to us brought a large zip lock bag and was loading it up with everything but the cutlery. Hmmmmnnn?

We drove home with the top down since it was a beautiful 70 degree day in Las Vegas and got home just in time to take the turkey out of the oven that Janae cooked. What's a weekend of football without turkey sandwiches?

Black Friday? I don't do that. Glad to have the kids in town for the long weekend.

On My Way to the Cell Phone Store....

2009-11-24T12:22:00.001-08:00

As one who likes to avoid life's speedbumps I seem to be a magnet for interesting encounters.

I have been an AT&T customer for as long as there have been cell phones - 20+ years now.

In a utterly futile attempt to replace a broken iphone, I have been 86'd into cell phone outer darkness for months now. The screen on my beloved iphone had shattered and instead of just getting a replacement screen (which seemed like a perfectly normal request), I was told by some grungy looking dude at the Apple Store who was dressed in baggy pants, a too tight tee-shirt emblazened with the saying "Not All Hero's Wear Capes" and a two day growth of stubble on his face and with bags under his eyes that I had to buy a new phone....as he twiddled it around in his fingers and stared at it like I had given him a moon rock.

"How did you do this?" he asked.

I didn't answer this question on the grounds that I have zero patience with stupid people.

To me this was the equivalent of needing new tires and being told I had to buy a new car. To replace the phone I couldn't pay the "new user" fee of $100, $200 or $300, but instead something like $400 or $500 bucks for an older refurbished model. This is Applespeak for essentially getting my old phone back with a new screen and having the memory wiped. It's a great, great business plan for Apple by the way but as far as customer service, I think we can all agree that it sucks.

iphones are self-contained units and this means customers can't replace the battery either. Hmmmmmm....self contained....except that it allows a one-way path for liquid to mysteriously creep inside while the hippie clerk says definitively,

"You got water in here - phone is shot - THAT'S NOT COVERED."

His look of disdain goes much further as if to say, YOU HEAR ME? THE PHONE WON'T WORK YOU IDIOT. The LEAVE ME ALONE vibe is very strong. Most people just mutter a few words under their breath and with a feeble look on their face say, "Okay." And Apple's stock keeps rising one more new iphone at a time.

To make matters more interesting, my shattered, de-energized-and-unable-to-hold-a-charge phone was coded under National Accounts. Neither the Apple Store or the AT&T store would replace it nor allow me to change the number. "Where else is there to go?" I asked.

More staring. More moon rocks.

The only way to solve this problem was for me to get a new phone and a new phone number. This however presented it's own set of problems. Security at any AT&T store is tighter than Fort Knox. The real issue is that no one wants to look customers in the eye. Clerks/Team Members/Associates/Friends/Shareholders (whatever name some think tank charged AT&T a few million bucks to call their staff) are trained to stare at a computer screen, type fast, avoid eye contact and not smile or engage the customer in any manner. A brick wall would provide better service. Me? I can be sarcastic. Wife calls it the verbal machete.

After spending an hour of my life to establish a new phone number, obtain a new phone, I was allowed to leave after providing the necessary passwords and various other secret information.

But I still had problemo #1. My old phone number still exists. It still gets calls. It still gets emails and it still gets text messages. I couldn't kill it. They wouldn't allow me to kill it. According to the manager moving this number would take several hours. The number would move from one National Account to a newly created National Account. We would then move my wife's current number to said account, THEN transfer the numbers back to my personal account.

WTF? Did I miss something or did AT&T get bailed out by the government and Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac execs are running this unit?

Alas, the old number now exists in a dead phone unable to transmit or receive. Did the battery die before the screen cracked?

Try discussing THAT at the Apple or AT&T store.....

Remodel Fun

2009-11-23T10:30:00.000-08:00

Since we've had nearly 2 years to re-do Jake's bedroom and found ourselves at the 30 day mark saying to ourselves,

"We REALLY need to get going on Jake's room."

"And the bathroom" I piped in, "teenage boys have been peeing in there for a decade, it all needs to be ripped out before the EPA shows up to fine us."

And so began another house project. Runyon Home Projects don't involve a simple coat of paint and maybe some new fixtures although those are included in our work. Nope. When we decided to take on a job, we're going all out and the building code be damned.

The pool was going to a simply creation - rectangular. Zen like. Calm. We ended up with a big-ass pool connected to a littl pool (aka the chicquita pool), connected to a 25 person hottub and enough concrete formed blocks and arches that will stand forever like the pyramids.

The kids from church call our yard the Indiana Jones pool. I need to get some blow darts for next swim season - that'll really freak 'em out. But it's a great family pool and we get a great deal of satisfaction from hosting parties and seeing the kids jump off the superstructure, do flips off the tree and spin around on the rope swing but.....but let's not kid ourselves -it was hard work getting it done and it took A LONG TIME.

The basement remodel a few years ago was also a project that nearly never was.

First mistake: We started it ourselves the night after dropping Alec off at the MTC, and after demo'ing only the easy stuff (knees height to shoulder height), we called for the work crew early the next day. As I have aged, I'm good at starting projects and bad at completing them. Just ask my wife.

The crew had the rooms gutted in no time however to this day, there remains a small portion of the project that remains unfinished. I tick off the to do list every time I walk downstairs. Drives me crazy. Need more medication.

So the thought of another household project always holds the prospect of blowing up into something big and unfinished.

Right off the bat, we had a tile issue; the tile wouldn't cooperate and fall off the wall with a little push from my brother's chisel. Eric and I decided to rent a power chisel from Home Depot. Like the guy with the jackhammer on the McDonald's commercial who says, "I rented this all day, mind as well get my money's worth" Eric went at it. Janae was out of the house for a few days taking care of her sister so I had full reign over the demolition. After Eric was done with the power chisel, we were down to the studs which is always just a wee bit scary. The fact that a pile of debris was 3 feet high in the bathtub was only part of it. Now the plumbing was exposed, the insulation was exposed...... it's the ugly side of construction that most people don't see.

Fear not readers, I am expereienced with this sort of chaos, disorder, mess and, yes, comedy. Hitting my thumb with the 3rd swing of the hammer produced a string a moderate profanity. I handed the hammer back to my brother. I'm better with a golf club in my hand, or my mitts flying over a laptop keyboard. Hammertime? That was 20 years ago - literally.

Next came the floor which was also difficult to demo. Eric tells me that since the flooring compound sticks to the concrete slab it too has to be chiseled up after sitting around for a decade. It's supposed to be hard to chisel out. Luckily for us, the bathroom had only 70 square feet of floor tile.

Ugghhh....I thought to myself, wait'll Eric and Pedro have to take out ALL the tile floors in my house and replace them with handscapped wood ones......I may have to send Janae out of town for a month inorder to surprise her although I doubt she would mind being a gypsy for a few weeks. THAT will be a mess.

Pedro and I hit up a few of the granite and marble stores looking for something nice to throw down. I picked the 18 inch Jerusalem gold marble at Rio Marble and Tile, purchased some backer board for the shower, and all sorts of attendant little construction shit that you need but never get quite enough which require at least 4 or 5 daily trips to Lowes or Home Depot to pick up yet one more item. Maddening. My pockets are full of receipts and change. I hate change.

After 9 days of work, I'm proud to report that as of Saturday afternoon, the job was completed. Eric and Pedro knocked out all of the work in the bathroom and bedroom AND were able to paint the master bedroom from ceiling to baseboards while Janae was gone. What was once a small little job - a little bit of paint here and there - turned out to be a fairly large gig - but it was done right. Jake will return home to a very nice pad if only for a month before he head off to school in mid-January.

Going Postal

2009-11-16T08:07:00.000-08:00

Most people can identify with government run entities and conjur up in their minds long lines, rude employees, 2 stations open when 6 exist but the other folks are on a break and so on.

Since my wife was out of town, I was entrusted to mail Jake's birthday packages to him in Ecuador. This isn't like going to the UPS store that is a franchise and owned by a person who smiles when they greet you and provides excellent service. No, I had to go the United States Post Office to handle this task. Customs forms were needed to be filled out and I was told to expect "a long line, but it moves fast." For as long as I have been on this planet, I don't do lines. I don't have patience to simply stand there. I'm not wired properly to handle this sort of thing.

I only know of two post offices close to home - the one on Rainbow and one in Summerlin next to one of those European-style roundabouts. I opted for Summerlin.

The parking lot was full and I considered for a second leaving. Wife would not be happy. I found a spot in the north forty lot and walked to the building only to be overwhelmed by the humanity inside. The line was snaked back and forth which wasn't the worst part....it was all the kids crawling around on the floor while their mommies stood in line. I could actually see germs floating in the air. The coughs, wheezes, sneezes, and wet fingers were everywhere. I kept hearing, "Sssshhhhhh....get up off the floor......get over here NOW."

I walked to the far corner to fill out the customs forms, located only one when I needed three but found, to my utter shock, a very helpful lady that ran to the back and brought me the forms I needed.

Is this THE United States Post Office I said to myself?
By the time I finished filling out the damn forms in triplicate, my hand ached and was prepped to stand in a long line with sick people.

To my surprise the line had dwindled down to just a few hundred people....er.....a few dozen. I stood there like a circus animal shuffling along not unlike the security line at any airport. Finally, I was next in line for service at the window. I lugged my 4 packages to the counter and was greeted warmly and with a smile.

"Sorry 'bout the wait. It's been busy today."

Again, I had to catch myself from making a wisecrack. Most times I just can't help myself. I bit my tongue.

Verna was stamping away - one stamp for the customs form and two on the package. I looked down and said, "You know Verna, your datestamp is wrong. It's the 12th not the 10th." Apparently Veteran's Day had thrown them for a loop.

"I been stampin' all day and no one has noticed that until you did."

"I'm weird like that Verna."

Laughter all around. Good crowd.

I paid the bill, walked out and thought to myself...wow, if the Post Office can turn things around, maybe, just maybe, there's hope for the million other government agencies.

Nah.

Who am I kidding?

All Creatures Great and Small, Part Two

2009-11-09T21:00:00.000-08:00

We had another Animal Planet episode on Saturday with our 16 year old cat Hider. Of the four felines, Hider is the oldest, crankiest and, in his mind, baddest cat on this 1/2 acre plot of planet earth. The other male cat in our menagerie is Snowy, who is 8 years old and has aspirations of becoming the next Alpha cat. The other two cats are females - they are lovers not fighters.

Here's the tale of the tape on the two males: Hider can't hear anything. He's 100% stone deaf. He can't hear the car start or the garage door roll up. I've come thisclose to running over him dozens of times. So much for a cat only having 9 lives. A few years ago he came home after having his ears cleaned but the procedure somehow sentenced him to a life of eternal quiet bliss.

That is until.....

Dunce cat Snowy goes on the prowl. This happens weekly. Some fights are knock down drag outs and some are over before they start - some hissing, posturing, and a quick jab or two and it's over.

Snowy's greatest affliction is that he's deeply retarded. The same vet that wrecked Hider's hearing also nearly killed Snowy when he was neutered as a kitten. Snow-Snow nearly died from the anesthesia and came out of the procedure with roughly the brain of a dog - this is not good for a cat but makes for great comic relief.

Snowy routinely breaks the first rule of the Kat Kingdom by coming to me when I call him. He will lay on my lap, or on my bed. He will beg for food without humiliation and in general sort of lopes alongside dogs Zeus and Ray Ray who inhabit our life with us. Snowy is usually benign and lovable until he and Hider take their business out on each other - usually in the middle of the night.

The latest and so far greatest of all their many fights ended up with Hider's ear needing surgery, a drain tube inserted, intravenous fluids, bloodwork and 24 hours under the watchful eye of Dr. Matt. Oh, and he's home wearing the dreaded lampshade now and bumping into pretty much everything. Damn cat nearly died last night by falling into the toilet trying to get a drink of water at 3am and the lampshade thingy was stuck under the seat. Janae wrestled the cat out of the potty and promptly jumped into the shower.

This is my life.

The twice daily medicine applications are also interesting. This act requires 8 hands but I only have 2. When Janae helps there are 4 mitts which is better, but not the minimum recommended number. The pink stuff that needs to be refrigerated is for fighting off infection. He gets two doses a day - each time I've wrestled with him I have dropped the syringe multiple times, dripped medicine all over me and him, fought off his fangs, been scratched by his rear claws, listened to his roar and ended up with cat hair in my eyes, up my nose and all over my clothes. The pain meds? Forget it man - he just has to deal with it. I'm not getting into the ring again.

I was instructed by Dr. Janae to pull on the tube in Hider's ear to promote better drainage (per Dr. Matt who looks like he is 17 years old). After I yanked on the bandage/tube doohickey and dabbed up blood, Hider, of course, had to shake his head back and forth spewing nice little blood droplets that rained down upon me. Nice.

Alas, we are down to only 6 animals now. I doubt that we'll ever get back to the 13 that we once had and I'm sure the number will drop eventually to only 1 or 2.

I am reminded daily of the following quote by Alexander Pope; “Histories are more full of examples of the fidelity of dogs than of friends.”

It's true. Look it up.

Quick Post

2009-11-07T09:46:00.000-08:00

Leaving for Ecuador in 34 days with Alec, Tiffany, and Janae to pick up Jake. Yeah, hard to believe it's been nearly two years since this beautiful young man left home to serve in the Guayquil South Mission in far away Ecuador. I am so proud of Jake's service and his compassion and loyalty to others. Finally, after 4+ years of missions, the family will all be reunited.

Have spent the past few days here watching juniors tennis action with the Foote family who are dear longtime family friends from Salt Lake City. Especially neat was seeing matriarchs Norine and Angie get together last night after 35+ years....kids and grandkids all around... is life great or what?

Shoulder is 100% healed and never sore even after rounds and rounds of golf.

More later.

Peace.

Shaking Hands with the Pig Flu

2009-10-18T19:07:00.000-07:00

There is a lot of talk going around about the H1N1 virus and how to curb the spread of it. I'm not too worried about the swine flu - it's a flu. If you get it, stay home and get over it. Another tip - wash your hands. Frequently.

I was sitting in church today and was all at once freaked out and amazed at how much people coughed, sneezed, wheezed, burped and no doubt farted during the sacrament meeting. The guy behind me was sneezing and coughing to the point where I was holding my breath in order not to breathe whatever air he was recyling.

When church lets out I make it a point to race home and the first thing I do is wash my hands like I'm going into surgery. Think about all those handshakes at church. The Bishop shakes EVERYONE'S hands - all those sweaty, meaty hands that covered up coughs, sneezes, and burps....and wiped their kids snotty noses and changed their babies diapers....I mean, is there a place anywhere with MORE germs than church? A daycare center, elementary school and airport come to mind.....and any Walmart. If you shook your Bishop's hand, then you essentially shook everyone's hand too.

Blowing your nose? What is the deal with people who blow their nose and then look at the inside of the tissue with that curious look on their face like, "What the hell is THAT?" Just don't peek. Cover that stuff up man and throw it away - don't look at it. The people who pick their nose while they in their cars? Same advice, don't do it - the windows may be tinted but it's not one way glass. Pick a winner, not your nose.

Here's a lesson for everyone: Use your LEFT HAND for your personal business. That's right, sneeze into your left hand or better yet, your left sleeve. Cough into your left hand. Don't be germing up your right paw and then spreading your germs by shaking hands.

Oink Oink

Dough Boy

2009-10-05T19:47:00.001-07:00

It was a cool Las Vegas fall evening when I arrived home from work and the Vikes were just about to get it on with the Packers. That Brett Favre had changed teams and now played for Minnesota made for a "Can't Miss" evening of Monday Night Football.

It had all the promise of GREAT evening....until...

Janae walked into the kitchen and said, "Uh oh."

Of the 16 dough balls she had left on a tray on the lower oven to rise, only 7 were left. This meant only one thing. Ray Ray had himself a snack. A big snack of yet-to-rise bread dough.

In typical guy fashion, I scoffed at her concern with a "he'll be FINE" quip and was glued to the game.

"No, this isn't good. The dough will expand in his stomach. We need to call the vet."

Of course all I could see was dollar signs and, again, in typical guy mode I said,

"You know, in the wilderness if animals swallow something they shouldn't, they will just hack it up."

Used to this sort of debate she was already on the phone with the animal hospital. And not just any hospital..... The ANIMIAL EMERGENCY HOSPITAL. More dollar signs flashed in front of me.

I had already googled "Rising Dough Dog" and the results were all the same: Get to the Vet's office.

"Uggghhhhh....." as I took the phone from Janae and waited for the attendant. I explained the situation and was told to bring the dog is ASAP - of course they are going to say that. $$$

Meanwhile Ray Ray has already started to whine - the canine equivalent of the feeling one gets right after Thanksgiving dinner. Ray started to walk around in circles too - like a toddler that needs to go peepee. Time to go.

Just then, Zeus runs in the room, panting, all 9 pounds of kick-ass Maltipoo.

"Did he have any dough?" Janae says.

"Uh.....I don't know, but since I'm going, I'll bring him along too."

When I arrived at the Animal ER (can you believe this?), uniform clad attendants scurried out like on ER but for the dogs. I half expected the word "Stat" to be used (it wasn't - thankfully).

They took the dogs in the back and asked me a bunch of questions. An hour later, Zeus was discharged - they induced vomiting which I'm sure went over really well with him and found no trace of dough.

As I figured, Dough Boy Ray Ray ate all the rolls. 9 of 'em. The Vet walked in with a plastic baggy full of bread dough that Ray regurgitated by himself. They needed to keep him overnight she explained since the dough already digested would emit ethenol and we'd have a drunk dog wandering around. Plus they were going to give him a diet of ice chips to stay hydrated and, I guess, cool down any residual bread dough. If things went south, I had to pre-authorize a doggie IV, x-rays, etc.

Thankfully, when I picked him up at 7am today he was fine.

And I did catch the 2nd half of the MNF game. Life is good.

Hail to the King

2009-10-03T19:08:00.000-07:00

My wife and next door neighbor, Michelle Jones, decided to toss a homeowners association party so we could chat and mingle with our new and not so new neighbors. We've been in the cul-de-sac for 7 1/2 years, some have been here a longer time while others have just moved in.

Even though we've been here a number of years, I only knew the people on my street and not the ones who live on the other cul-de-sac that makes up our HOA - we are sort of wishbone shaped.

The party was a success and I thoroughly enjoyed visiting everyone from both streets-all were different and all were very, very nice. So nice in fact that they elected me President of the HOA.

Now getting 20 people to agree on anything is impossible and our charge as a new HOA board is to spiff up the entrance of the community, re-seal the streets, possibly replace the gates and constantly keep an eye out for nefarious behavior. I am armed and ready for action - bring it on.

Fortunately for us, we have a neighbor who hails from the great city on the planet, New York. Carmine humbly told everyone he didn't want to serve on the board, but simply enjoyed his role as the...uh... enforcer (his word) who walked the neighborhood each day, "You know...keepin' an eye out fo whateva..."

I was quick to point out to the group, "Paisan, with a name like Carmine you can do whatever you want." Bada boom bada bing.

Nervous laughter all around.

Fear of Flying

2009-10-02T20:58:00.000-07:00

I was reminded the other day why I once disliked flying.

Back up, it's not really the flying part that I feared, it's the crashing part that made my palms sweat and cause perspiration to bead on my forehead. This in turn also inspired teasing from my better half.

"Hee, hee, look at you! Relax!"

In fact, I was so freaked out about flying with my wife that I insisted on us taking separate planes when we went on vacation together - just in case the plane went down our boys wouldn't be orphaned. That's how far I took my anxiety of flying and I took a load of shit for it over the years but every single time another young father hears my reasoning for the wife and I taking separate planes, they ALL say,

"That's actually a good idea."

Howie Long and his wife had the same flight policy while their sons were young. If anything, I'm practical.

Nowadays do we still travel separately? Nah, I got over my fear of flying and with the boys being older, I figured that if the plane we were on ever did go down, they would be old enough to remember their mother and father and have a pile of money to split up. I could spend eternity living with that logic. See you on the other side and all that.

So the other day I was on a business trip with a young man from my office. We hopped the company jet (Southwest Airlines) at 10:30am for a short flight to Ontario, CA. Our return was delayed since our client was very talkative and absolutely loved our presentation so we took the last flight of the day home from ONT. It was on this flight home that rekindled albeit for only a short time the reasons why I once hated to step inside an airplane.

The flight is only about 40 minutes so it's not like we hunker down and watch a movie - we go up for 15 minutes and then start the landing procedure. Strange. But it's a 3 hour drive with traffic if we took a car and I hate driving more than I hate flying - so flying simply became the lesser of two evils.

On the way home, at minute marker 30, the plane suddenly dipped, twisted, and porpoised - sort of a roller coaster ride for an aircraft, for about 10 seconds. I looked out the window and I watched the wing go way up and then it bounced way down - a few times. A rubber seal came flying from the ceiling and a guy 2 rows in front of us literally lost his drink in mid-air. For those precious few seconds, the pilot and I were both passengers on the same plane and I didn't like that at all.

At that moment, I seriously thought that the plane was going to break into 2 pieces and that I'd be in the part without the steering wheel or jet engines. Memo to Self: Make sure to pack parachute next time.

Thankfully the plane survived the rough air. We landed in a moderate crosswind (the culprit of the turbulence was high winds) and were no worse for the experience.

I remember what Robert, a retired 747 pilot told me years ago, wings are meant to go up and down just like they I watched them do - if they didn't, THAT would be bad.

It's just that that phrase I first heard as a kid has been bouncing around upstairs lately.....If man were meant to fly he would have been born with wings.

One of Those Days.....

2009-09-15T20:27:00.000-07:00

It all began with the dogs barking. Their barks woke me up - turns out that Tony was making the rounds spraying for bugs.

He's smart, he knows if he shows up early we'll be out cold and we won't invite him to spray the inside of the house - saves him money. The dogs must have heard his footsteps when he slid the bill inside the garage door - then they went beserk. As usual. Uggghhhh....only 7:30am.

At lunchtime I picked up my brother and gave him a pep talk on our ride to his job interview. I dropped him off and went to grab some lunch at Panda.

Always the gentleman, I opened the door for two ladies who approached the door when I did and who would soon torment me.

I dislike waiting, lines of any kind annoy me. Traffic? Can't stand it. People who can't make up their mind? The worst.

Friends and family tell me I'm impatient....I'll concede, but really I'm only intolerant with stupid people.

And so the ladies who I tended the door for wander up to the line at Panda. The girl behind the counter says in somewhat broken but discernable english, "How can I help you?"

"Uh.........What are you going to have?" the loud one says to the other.

I could tell right then that it was going to take every ounce of patience in my body to not walk out right then.

"Which is better....heehee"

I hate this question. What I like may be the complete opposite of what you like. I'm already past being impatient.

A few more "which is better" comments and giggles about the Mandarian chicken or the egg rolls and Lucy and Ethel had managed to make their way around the bend and to the cashier. I had every reason to believe I was in the clear. Home free.

That is, until I got to the soda machine for my delicious diet pepsi juice. Lady #2 was trying multiple sodas and snapping her lips together, loudly, like it was a national on camera taste test. I actually thought she was doing it on purpose - a sort of Candid Camera meets Punk'd. Nope. She just stood there blocking all access to ice and sweet carbonated soda.

I filled up my cup after she wandered off and was nearly knocked over when she stopped suddenly (like people do in the airport - this is also VERY frustrating for Keith) and spun around - forgetting utensils.

"Heehee....sorry."

She was almost wearing my rice and orange chicken. By then I had pretty much lost my appetite. I had a few bites and took off - diet pepsi in hand.

I got home late from work and was reminded by my wife that it was our night to help clean the church.

"Uh, huh...." I croaked.

Cleaning our own church? How bad are things going to get? When is Obama going to turn the Las Vegas switch back on?

We met up with the other family at the chapel and assignments were made. I felt a lot of eyeballs on me when the "Bathroom and Toilet" assignment was tossed out.....

"Okay, I'll do bathrooms and toilets."

There, I said it. Gulp.

We were prepared however. Janae had tossed 1/2 dozen disposable gloves in the car on the way over. I was glad for this. I pulled on the gloves and went to work.

The smell hit me first.

What is that SMELL?????

The kid emptying the trash cans twisted up his face and went, "eewwwwwww, that stinks."

"Amen to that brother."

I propped open the door and went to locate the cause of this putridness. To my surprise, the toilets were all spotless. Thank goodness. I mean, I'll clean the restrooms as long as they are already clean.

But seriously, what is that smell and where is it coming from?

Hunter located the culprit.

Trash can.

Diapers.

From Sunday.

I told him to empty the trash into a larger bag and get outside as fast as you can.

We had the same problem in the ladies room only it was WORSE. More diapers and it two separate trash cans.

The last time I was in a ladies room was when I was 21 or 22 so forgive me for not remembering that women have special little compartment in their stalls that also need to be emptied. I laughed like hell about this for really no other reason than the fact I was doing it.

The cleanup complete and I have to say, the restrooms have never looked AND smelled so good. I got those rooms aired out in no time.

Memo to those with little kids: Take out your smelly diapers.

And don't slow me down.

2009-09-14T18:53:00.000-07:00

The NFL is back. The world is now as it should be.

Forget the political name calling. Who is Joe Wilson?

US Open tennis? Sadly, 2009 will be remembered for Serena's verbal attack on the lineswoman that was epic, unforgettable and alarming. She laughed it off and apologized two days later and then, comically, AMENDED her apology the day after that. "I, uh, wants to apologize to the lineslady for what I says...." Pathetic. But humorous in how she and her "team" ultimately handled the train wreck. Badly.

The tournament SHOULD be remembered for a mom finally winning. Kim Clijsters is adorable and is well liked by everyone. I'm glad she won. On the men's side, Federer was beaten in a very good final by Juan Martin Del Potro who is just 20 years old. Cool.

7:15pm Monday.....

Uggghhhhh.....just watch Buffalo lose to New England on MNF. There must be some curse out there on the Bills, the city of Buffalo or the owner Ralph Wilson. Maybe all three had hexes placed on them? Leading 24-19, all the bills had to due was take a kickoff and run out the clock with 2 minutes to go. The return guy for Buffalo wanted to be a hero and took the ball out of the endzone, raced into a pile of humanity and had the ball twisted out of his hands while his head was being ripped off....Patriots ball. They have Tom Brady. He threw a couple of laser beams, scored and won 25-24. The bills lost because they are the bills - loveable losers.

The Cincy-Denver game was also a mess. Both teams deserved to lose and somehow you just knew it would be the Bengals. It's always the Bengals. I watched HBO's "Hard Knocks" this summer which profiled Cincinnati's team this year so naturally I grew fond of the team and their constant struggle to turn the corner and make the playoffs. Alas, on the last play of the game, a tipped ball turned into an 87 yard pass play that went for a touchdown for the equally hapless Broncos. I think Cincy may be able to turn the season around while Denver will be lucky to win 5 games. Getting rid of Cutler was silly and stupid although he looked horrible for Chicago last night. Me thinks his helmet rides too low and he can't see.

Raiders-Chargers throwback uniforms are way cool. I have 4 players in the game on my fantasy football team - all play for San Diego, sorry Jason. The Raiders will be bad again this year. But next year they can draft Crabtree.

My beloved Eagles are also snakebit but not in an embarassing way like Buffalo or Cincy who continue to torment their fans. The eagles don't necessarily do dumb stuff, it's just that weird things happen to their players - injuries, fumbles at key times, interceptions also at key moments in games. I suppose the best way to describe the eagles is that they don't catch any breaks. Ever. The had home field advantage in the NFC title game. Three times. And lost TWICE. Tampa Bay even beat them in Philly in January. This team hails from Florida and the stat that reporters kept bringing up was that when the game time temperature was under 40 degrees, they had never won. Well the thermometer was stuck at 20 degrees on the day they beat the eagles. Lost to Carolina the same way. This is my nightmare each football season. Join the club.

Last night I heard rumblings about "something" Kanye West did on the MTV Music Video Awards and Youtube'd it before going to bed. Sure enough, the guy storms the stage after Taylor Swift had won an award and grabs the microphone and babbles something about how Beyonce had the best selling video of all time - "I'm just sayin'" and then he shrugged his shoulders and wandered off the stage..... and was then escorted out of the auditorium. What an idiot. Not the first time he did something stupid. He's just a stupid dude.

Raider-Charger game is the equivalent of taking an ambien. I might make it to the end. I might not.

Don't care.

Sleeping good lately. Bipap machine plus supplemental oxygen at night. Sure, with all the breathing stuff in the house you would think an old geezer lived here. Nope. Just me. It's cool though. New magic sleep machine and new Oxygen machine equals good night's sleep for KAR.

Night, night.

It Just Doesn't Stop

2009-08-30T20:30:00.000-07:00

My trip back to San Diego on Wednesday for a final few days of summer at the beach had an ominous start. I had some business to attend to and sped to the airport for a 2pm flight. While I pulled into the valet parking, I somehow failed to do what I ALWAYS, ALWAYS tell my sons to do: Keep Your Head on a Swivel.

I thumped the car in front of me.

Oops. Total HUMA move.

As luck would have it, my bumper hit the jeeps rubber plug on the trailer hitch. No damage to the jeep and none to my car. The look the Jeep owner gave me was creepy though.....the old Keith would have got in his grill. I played nice.

Then on Thursday night the alarms on my magic sleep machine started blaring and the screen showed an E87 message. On the internet at 2:30am I was able to determine my machine was fried. The next morning I call Praxair and they confirmed it - come in for a replacement unit. Problem was I was 5 hours away....so Janae and I packed up and left the beach house. The girls at Praxair were great and got me squared away with new gear; hose, mask, machine and supplemental oxygen machine that is the size of a small TV. I asked the lady how long I would need that device and she looked at me, paused, and said, "Uh, well, forever." That really bummed me out.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to seek a second or third opinion now on my sleep apnea. Central Sleep Apnea doesn't have a defined cause other than the brain fails to tell the lungs to take a breath - that's bad.

The frustrating thing is that for a year, the magic sleep machine pretty much had me feeling normal. The past few months - back to debilitating.

We are nearing the 100 day mark for Jake's return. According to Janae, we are at 105 days and counting. I'm ready. Missions are harder for parents than their kids - I'm sure of this.

Alec is in the midst of filling out secondary medical school applications. Too bad he can't check "minority" since they seem to ride the diversity train to 50% of the admissions.....despite lower grades and test scores. Pretty soon he'll begin the interview process. This is an exciting time for he and Tiffany.

RayRay our beloved soft coated wheaten terrier played a fast one on us last night - he feigned sleep when it was time to put the dogs to bed, and by morning, he'd pretty much emptied the See's Candy 1.5 pound box of peanut brittle that was on the coffee table.

Laughing uncontrollable now......fires from surrounding states.....dogs gassing up the house....Big Brother on TV.... This is my life.

Oceanside 2009 and All That

2009-08-25T10:30:00.000-07:00

Each year we trek to the beach. Some observations:

Each time I'm at the beach, it seems like yesterday when I was here last. I don't know if this is early dementia or if the rest of the year has little meaning. I do know that a lot of stuff went down in the past 12 months, but here I am again... spending time in my 3rd favorite place.

This year we opted for a house instead of a condo. North Coast Village provided a good summer home for at least the past 10 years. Now? We can't ever go back. The problem with this year is the same problem that crops up after you have flown on a private jet. You don't want to go back to flying commercial. This joint is really nice and now that we there are other, better options and dozen's like them scattered all up and down the coast of California.

The water was warm. This was unusual. It's also great since I was able to go for ocean swim or two. The water was also more blue than green or brown. I remember one year down here and the water looked like root beer. I didn't swim in the ocean that entire week. Janae came home with and ecoli infection and an aneursym. A double whammy.

I will never figure out the people who do their goofy tai chi rituals on the sand. Don't get it. The other morning I woke up and stumbled out to the deck and was greeted by a woman about 40 feet away, just beyond the surf. She was coiling up and spinning around in a super slow motion style. She did some kicks, pulled some stuff in the air from the ocean to the beach. This went on for a good 10 minutes. Of course I was compelled to provide audio commentary - funny. You had to be there.

It was so nice having Alec and Tiffany with us. We also know that this will be the last time Jake misses the family beach trip. This fact hasn't been lost on anyone. We look forward to December. It will be here before we know it.

Back in Las Vegas now thanks to some 911 business issues....or else I'd still be in O-side with #8 suntan lotion on and reading book #5. Janae continues her gypsy-like life and is still at the beach...by herself....no dogs, no cats, no phones.

As usual, my life is not without drama or hilarity....The 2nd night home I was jarred awake by the cat fight, which made the dogs bark...and so on (see prior posts for more detailed description). The morning turned ugly because the cat, quite literally, had the poop scared out of him and then decided to hide in the closet, and under the bed. I finally grabbed him and hosed him off....and then got to work on the carpet. Ah, the life of an animal lover.

Hoping to go back to O-side for a few last days of summer later this week.

Peace

Vick is an Eagle

2009-08-15T03:50:00.000-07:00

As testament to my sleep disorder, here it is 4am and I can't get to sleep. I can't sit still. I have read every article about Michael Vick becoming an eagle that has ever been written, All are similar. None have put me to sleep.

We leave tomorrow for the beach. I have been looking forward to this trip for a long time. Since Gram's Beach Party peetered out with other family members opting to head south of the border, we were on our own. Instead of going to North Coast Village like we have been for the past decade, we are renting for a house on the beach just south of the pier for 2 weeks. At least we'll avoid the world's slowest elevators at NCV. I'll miss the 30 to 40 family members that used to gather each summer. Strange how everyone just scattered. Maybe there is truth in the old saying, "You can pick your friends, not your family." I'm disappointed that GBP fizzled out and I think it's just our family that feels that way, but I'll just add it to my growing list of things people do or not do that disappoints me.

Janae and I drive down tomorrow and we'll pick Alec and Tiffany up at the airport in San Diego. I'm eager to live in swimtrunks, flip flops and tee shirts for the next little while and read a 1/2 dozen or so books.

The big news of the week was Michael Vick signing with the Eagles.

To some, Vick is the devil reincarnate. Me? I think the guy did some terrible things but he paid a price for his misdeeds. He axed for forgiveness - I'm chill with dat. Can't punish the guy forever like some people insist on doing. "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone...." And what not.

It will be interesting to see how the eagles use a guy like Vick. As a QB with the falcons, he could thrown the ball with enough velocity to knock down a barn but his aim was often poor. His arrival gives Philadelphia a legitimate medal contending 4x100 relay team (Jackson, Maclin, Vick and Curtis). Too bad it's football and not track. A guy with Vick's speed and shiftyness needs at least 10-15 touches a game - punt returns, kickoff returns, wildcat formation, reverses, etc. It's going to be fun to watch.

All this Vick discussion and I forgot to announce to those who have been off planet: The good news is that football is back. The bad news is that we have to endure pre-season football. This is a torture that the NFL does to its fans each year. And it used to be worse if you can believe it. Youngsters may not recall when teams played six preseason games not the four that are currently contested. There is talk about cutting the schedule down to two games and adding two to the regular season. Finaly a good idea!

Still not tired. You can bet that fatigue will hit just past stateline.

Uggghhhh......

The Problem with Diversity

2009-08-10T21:13:00.000-07:00

Diversity

A polarizing subject...divisive, political....

My eldest son is learning about diversity the hard way. He is busy applying to medical schools all over the country this summer - he graduates in the spring. During this odessey of writing essay after essay, he's found that each school makes it a point to express to future students the school's commitment to diversity. The statement is everywhere.

Amazingly, schools today attempt to diversify their enrollment using race as significant piece of criteria for admission (In 2003 a Supreme Court decision concerning affirmative action in universities allowed educational institutions to consider race as a factor in admitting students). Sure they'll look at grade point averages, test scores and after school activities however the one word that keeps popping up is diversity. Judging by the FAQ's that each medical school publishes about it's incoming class, the closer to 50% enrollment of people of color the better. That leaves 1/2 the seats open to: students of the schools undergraduate programs, and in-state applicants from other schools. Brutal odds. That's why students apply to so many schools; upwards of 20+. There are only 120 total medical schools in the nation to begin with.

News from last week brings us another example of diversity in action - this time by grown ups: President Obama's pick for the Supreme Court of the United States, Sonia Sotomayor, was sworn in last week as a member, and the first hispanic, of that esteemed body of judicial excellence.

Obama surely selected Sotomayer not because she was the best or the brightest legal mind in the land - he picked her because she was hispanic AND a female. By picking Sotomayer, he assured himself the support of both groups when the 2012 election rolls around. He'll be able to stand tall at podiums across the land and say, "Remember what I did in 2009? I need your vote."

Imagine the outrage if Obama had picked an Ivy league educated white male? By the way, Sotomayer is a Princeton grad and graduated from Yale Law. Admittedly though she conceded that it was ethnic diversity that got her into Princeton in the first place and that she struggled mightily academically for the first few years.

Diversity....The pendulum has swung the other direction and now it's stuck.

Personally I don't care what the color is of someone's skin, what religion they espouse or what country they hail from. I'd just prefer that the most qualified people be hired to man our courts (pun intended) and become our future doctors, teachers, firefighters and police officers.

How "diversity" became such a political topic with so much sizzle is puzzling. It's like a weed that sprouted in the grass - you leave for summer vacation and upon your return, the weeds have taken over the yard. You find yourself buckling under the weight of the problem and instead of rolling up your sleeves to weed the garden, you simple turn the hose on and water the mess.

So much for picking the best person for the job huh?

Front Page Stuff

2009-08-04T23:25:00.000-07:00

There's been some controversial material in the media lately. Let's take a look shall we?

Michael Vick's NFL Odyssey

Some facts:
1) I am a dog lover. I'm a HUGE dog lover.
2) Mike Vick bankrolled a dog fighting operation and exhibited extreme cruelty to the dogs in his care.
3) Vick served 2 years in prison for the crimes he committed.

How could anyone hurt these guys?

There is no doubt that Vick engaged in stupid and disgusting behavior and many people will never forgive him however.... he served the time that the courts determined he should serve and I believe he should be allowed to get back to work in the NFL without further suspension.

Apparently NFL boss/potentate Roger Goodell (see below) didn't think 2 years of prison, being humiliated and ridiculed (to this day even), losing his fortune (at one time he was the NFL's highest paid player), going bankrupt, and being the scourge of the earth wasnt' quite enough punishment - he imposed an additional 6 game suspension....just to make sure Vick knew who was boss. I'm no Vick fan, but jeez, players who killed people got off easier than MV.

Roger Goodell in 30 years

Let's compare Vick to Leonard Little and Donte Stallworth. These guys were each NFL players. Each were convicted of driving under the influence and of KILLING another human being (not a dog). In 1998 Little hit a St. Louis woman, killing her, while driving drunk. He spent 90 days in jail - that's it. The media storm for Little was minor - the football writers of America voted him an All-Pro 4 years later.

Stallworth...he also was convicted of driving under the influence and killing a man who was on his way home after a construction shift. Unbelievably, Stallworth served a grand total of 27 days in jail. Sure he surrendered his drivers license for the rest of his life but I doubt that will actually stop him from driving. He's also suspended indefinitely since the incident occurred in the recent offseason but make no mistake - he won't spend 2 years out of the NFL like Vick.

These two guys killed human beings.

Think about it.

Plaxico Burress' Gunshot Wound

The former NY Giants receiver accidentally shot himself in the leg last November while inside a club in NYC. Dude was carrying a loaded handgun in his pocket...it went off....his pal and teammate at the time, Antonio Pierce, helped Plax get to a hospital where he could be treated for his injury. Both guys would wind up in some serious trouble.

Plax

I'll explain...

NYC has moronically strict gun laws. Just carrying a firearm without a permit carries a mandatory 3+ year prison sentence. That's a bit steep. One "oops" and anyone could be facing a life altering experience - in prision with bad men. The thought makes me keep practicing spanish. No way I'd ever go to prison. Canada is too cold in the winter so I'd opt for a non-extradition central or south American country. Prison? Are you kidding me?

Anyway, Plax told the prosecuter's office he'd serve a year in jail (as if he could dictate his own sentence?) yet the prosecuter demanded he do 2 years not 1. I guess a MANDATORY sentence isn't so mandatory. I don't understand this - perhaps my legal pals can explain. This sort of thing is remarkable to me when Burress testified under oath to the a Grand Jury that he did own the firearm; that it did discharge; and that he was injured as a result. Quad erant demonstradum.

Pierce was in hot water because he helped his friend get to a hospital and wasn't immediately forthcoming about what happened. The Grand Jury met today to vote on his behavior - they did the right thing and did not indict him. He was helping a friend. To me, loyalty is everything.

Professor Gates and The Cambridge Cop

I think everyone can agree that it appeared to the neighbor who called the police that someone was breaking into a house - couple of guys working on a door with no key. A tad suspicious - proceed with caution right?

The fact that it was the owner of the house trying to pry the door open was, at the time, unknown to everyone but the good professor. The cops approached the situation like all cops must do - with extreme caution. Words were said, next thing you know, the homeowner/professor was in handcuffs and was dragged away to the police station.

The incident should never have escalated to where it did and it certainly didn't warrant, in my opinion, the President of the United States commenting about how the cops acted "Stupidly." Surely the only people who really know what happened did manage to gather over brewskis at The White House last week and snacked with the Prez and VP Joe Biden.

I wish President Obama would invite me over for a BBQ on some lazy summer Saturday. I'd give him an earful on health care reform, immigration, the stimulus package and a give him my college football playoff pitch. How do I swing an invite like that?

Michael Jackson's Doctor

Conrad Murray, Gangsta MD/Rapper

Uh oh.

This guy is some serious trouble.

It looks like the Doc MAY have provided MJ with propofol which is a drug used to knock patients out during medical procedures.

I'm not a doctor but common sense tells me to stick to sleep medications to help someone have a good nights rest. Putting someone "out" for 8 hours using this sort of drug just doesn't seem like the right thing to do - maybe that's why so many doctors, referring to Murray and Jackson, asked the obvious question, "What were these guys thinking?"

But that's just me.

Maybe the $150,000 A MONTH the doc was getting from MJ influenced his prescription choices? I know this: If someone was paying me that sort of money I would sure as hell KEEP HIM ALIVE. What an idiot. Word on the street is that despite several months on the job he hadn't been paid yet. If I were him, I wouldn't count on getting a check soon either.

Watch What You Twitter or Facebook

Letting the world know about the fabulous vacation you are on can lead to coming home to a burglarized house. Post about it AFTER you get home. A public service announcement from me.

The Sleep Center

2009-08-01T09:36:00.000-07:00

Now that my back is 100%, my shoulder is well on it's way to being better than ever thanks to every other day visits to the rehab facility, and that Doc Daulat carved out that pesky bump on my mug that at first seemed to be an ingrown hair but stayed around for 2 months and, pending biopsy results, is likely a commmon and mild form of skin cancer - basal cell carcinoma, my body is thisclosetobeing where I need it to be. The only remaining issue is my sleep apnea. And it's a doozy.

I had to get my magic sleep maching recalibrated based on the results of my sleep test 2 weeks ago. Even with the machine, I have too many hypopneas and apneas or events as they say in the trade. My pressure needed to be adjusted so I took the machine to the sleep center at 9pm as instructed so the techs there could handle it. The first words out of the floppy haired guys mouth were, "I've never worked on one of those before." I said, "You're not inspiring confidence in me bro." He's scratched his head and stomped off. Tech #2 tagged along and looked at the machine and stepped back like it would bite.

The first guy was looking at my test results while fumbling with the machine. Since I have central sleep apnea the bipap machine is the only cure in helping my condition. After about a half hour they had finally figured it out and set the machine. After 3 nights of using it, the increased pressure sounds like a plane taking off. The mask can't handle the pressure so it leaks and when it leaks it makes a loud noise and worse it means I don't get enough oxygen. Working on the problem now.

The Problem with Modern Day Vacations

2009-07-30T09:14:00.000-07:00

As a society we've gone soft. Since the greatest generation (WWII Vets), we've had the silent generation, baby boomers (Me), Gen X, MTV Generation, and the Gen Y kids. We've had less ambition with each generation, less guts and more luxuries than our forebears combined.

Soft is the wrong word. We've turned into sissies.

1. Kids play sports that can't declare a winner since score isn't kept. I just vomited.

2. Everyone on the team gets trophies for being the best whatever....except no one give out the best player award - that would insult the other players.

3.Public schools teach to the lowest learning level making bright kids sit in a pool of boredom day in and day out.

4. The plethora of video games and TV channels have turned our kids into jello. In my day, we played in the street, got sweaty, sunburned and scuffed up. Our baseball games didn't have an on/off button. Only when the streetlights came on did we even think about going inside.

5. Parents are excepted to coddle their children from birth. Spanking children today? Frowned upon. Talk to them. Nurture them. Sissyfy them. Me? I didn't get spanked - if I behaved badly I was struck by my dad's leather belt. That usually got my attention. And when he was little it was the branch off of a small green tree. Ouch.

All of this has led to the Problem with the Modern Vacation.

Keith on Vacation - Always Working

The entitlement earned and fostered during our youth continues into adulthood. People today believe they deserve their 2,3,4 or 5 weeks of vacation to be in joyful and silent bliss.

In a world of split-second communication and instant demands, some people prefer to go undercover for days and it DRIVES.ME.CRAZY.

They want zero contact with the office and all the stressful things going on there. The responsbilities of life are left at their door the second they depart on holiday as vacations are called across the pond and in the land of our forefathers. Holiday. I like it. Catchy.

If people had one vacation a year like in the old days, I'd agree with the, "I'm outta here for one week, leave me alone," statement. Nowadays people are always on vacation - personal days, sick days, vacation days, holidays....they add up to a mindboggling number of times people are away from their work responsibilities. Mindboggling. My dad's generation, the greatest generation wouldn't understand today's worker.

That we have such luxuries as laptop computers, blackberry devices, iphones and so forth that ALLOW folks to stay in touch with their work responsibilities should correct this problem. Theoretically, the new technology should enable the traveler-employee-photographer-explorer to stay linked to their office responsibilies, participate in problem solving matters when needed WHILE roaming the earth.

It doesn't work like that. I don't work like that.

And this is what is stressing me out about the modern day vacation.

People: Be responsible.

A Golf Warrior's Surgery

2009-07-23T22:30:00.000-07:00

Surgery is PAINFUL

I totally underestimated the:

a) pain
b) fuzzyheadedness
c) pain
d) inability to move the arm operated on
e) pain
f) soreness

Since I'm impatient, I was, I HAD to be, the first patient (pun intended) of the day for Dr. Strangelove and his sidekick Nick the Greek.

6am comes early.

The last thing I remember before the procedure commencing was laying face-up on the operating table and making wisecracks about Michael Jackson's choice of sleeping medicine when I began to feel the anesthesia creeping into the veins in my right forearm. Just like the man said, it burned.

I woke up in the middle of a circus. Things were all fuzzy - my eyeballs were glazed over and I couldn't make things out quite right...other patients were being wheeled into the recovery room and there were Philipino nurses everywhere. This posed a problem since they all looked alike and I couldn't remember who I gave my soda and ice order to. Very frustrating since I didn't have my voice back yet to bark at people because my throat was sore from the intubating tube that was placed there during surgery.

Then it hit me. My left arm felt like 200 pounds of concrete had been poured into it.

Reality had just come into focus.

At this point, let's face it, with all the meds in my body I didn't feel any pain however I was definitely stoned and was thoroughly enjoying the recovery room chaos going on all around me.

As mightily as she tried, my lovely bride hit every bump on the ride home. I know this since I bit my lip over each one. My lip is now nearly as sore as my shoulder.

Stumbling home in my sling wearing shorts, Hawaiian shirt, sneakers, and faggy white leggings that are used to help prevent blood clots, I was quite the sight.

Come to think of it, I look like a white basketball player in the hood.

The day of the operation remains pretty much a blur - a combination of getting up early, not getting enough sleep, being doped up, cut on, poked around in, having my bones be shaved, scraped and drilled into was enough for one day. Thankfully there is Ambien which helped me sleep the night away in painfree slumber.

The next day was very rough but that's always the case with any injury. By evening, my appetite returned and I began to feel better. I was off the pain meds by day 3.

This day was excellent because I took off all the bandages, threw away my sling, tossed the leggings in the trash 7 days too soon, and took a nice long shower. I laughed at how lame I must have looked trying to wash under my left arm. The folly of my predicament just made me laugh out loud......as my eyes teared up from the soreness.

Doc told me today to keep the arm moving. He presented me with full color photos of the before and after shots of the surgery just so I knew he really did something in there. My golf game is on hold until October although I can practice my putting and chipping anytime I would like. This will actually be good for my game. Everyone needs a better short game. Just ask Tom Watson.

To my surprise I had not 3 incisions in the shoulder but 4. The labrum tear was slightly worse than he thought and he needed another hole to insert an arthroscope to properly anchor the labrum back to the bone with sutures that looked to me like multi-colored rope and some metal doohickeys that he popped in there.

He was all jacked up pointing out this and that on the photos but it was all Greek to me. The muscles all looked like chicken breasts, and the torn labrum part looked like when I'd tear the turkey meat off the bone at Thanksgiving.

If the turkey were still alive, he'd need this type of surgery too.

Torn Labrum and Impingement

2009-07-20T23:29:00.000-07:00

T-minus 7 hours until Dr. Strangelove makes three small incisions into my left shoulder and proceeds to clean up one of my bad wings.

My shoulder has been bothering me for a long time. It's messed up my golf game or did my golf game mess up my shoulder?

Hmmmmmmmm.....interesting philosphical argument there.

When I make rotations with my arm, I can hear stuff grinding and tumbling around in there. Sort of like pulling the legs off the Thanksgiving Day turkey. Occasionally I'll hear a pop, but mostly it's just the tumbling and grinding sound. Doing this sort of manuever is very achey.

While playing golf, the only time it really hurts is when I swing the club - which is actually bad since that's what you need to do in order to play golf. Taking the club back begins to hurt right away - I pretty much just close my eyes and gut it out from there.

Over the past few months it usually takes 3 or 4 days for the soreness from playing to wind down. That's why I've only played twice in the past 6 weeks. It's also why I decided to have the surgery. And because of the fact that I was disabled on the 4th of July and couldn't even lift everyday stuff. How lame did I look to the group of ironworkers at Costco who watched me watch my wife lift 50 pound bags of water softner salt into the back of the Lexus? Pathetic. But funny.

The official diagnosis shows two things that need repair: I have a torn labrum and also something called impingement syndrome.

The labrum is the cartilage part of the socket where the humerus attaches to the shoulder. The bone up there is only 1/3 the right size, so the labrum makes up the other 2/3rd's and allows the bone to fit all nice and snug in there. Fixing this involves anywhere from 1 to 7 tacks - how they fit the hammer up there is anyone's guess.

Impingement syndrome is where a tendon is pinched by other tendons or bones due to inflamation. In my case, my inflamation exists because a bone spur is shredding the tendon due to back and forth movements (golf swing, life) of my arm/shoulder. The doc corrects this by shaving the bone down so the tendon(s) can slide back and forth again without getting caught up on the spur. Sutures will fix the tear.The bone heals itself - ouch.

Afterward, the scopes come out and the holes get sewn up. Piece of cake.

Will advise as to the level of pain tomorrow.

British Open 2009 - Turnberry Rocked

2009-07-19T12:17:00.000-07:00

I just cleaned up the vomit on my keyboard.

Ugggh.....Golf's major winners so far this year:

Angel Cabrera
Lucas Glover
Stewart Cink

Not quite the Three Stooges, but close.

Tiger please come back. Phil we miss you. Big John, please stay sober and make us cheer for you.

I'm afraid that golf without Tiger is like a day without bacon. Sure, you'll live, but you want what you want.

Steward Cink won the British Open in a 4 hole playoff over the legendary Tom Watson. Cink is a nice guy and all - actually, he's a super nice guy. His wife looks normal too. This is unusual. Most of the PGA Tour guys go to the Blonde and Big Boob Store to get their wives. It's the grown up Barbie - you know the type; size 4, big blond hair, designer clothes, mandatory boob job, high heels on and off the golf course, and to own one, you have to provide them a rather large diamond and a black Amex card. Ownership has it's privileges.

The story of the week was how 59 year old Tom Watson was in the lead of the British Open after 71 holes and all he needed a par on the last hole to win tournament. At 59 he would be, by far, the oldest winner of a golf major by at least a decade. A win would have given him 6 British Opens tying Harry Vardon for most all time. A win would have got him to 9 majors in all - only 5 behind Tiger.

Most puzzling of all said some was that a win, would have been bad for golf. Naysayers believed that a 59 year old winning a major would somehow bring golf down.

These folks don't get that golf is supposed to be a lifelong sport. That's what makes it great. I coudln't tell you the last time I played football or baseball. It's hard to round up teams, practice and then play. Tennis and golf are sports that can be played for as long as you live.

Watson muffed the last hole - made bogey and was forced into a playoff with Mr. Cink. Never mind that for the entire 4 hole playoff, Watson's brain was on the 18th green still trying to figure out how he could have missed that putt. Cink won the playoff easily and marched up the last fairway like he had just planted a flag at the North Pole. I hollered at the TV,

"Dude, the fans aren't clapping for you. They are clapping for the 59 year old."

Dope.

Since it was Cink's first victory at a major, his lack of decorum could be excused - that is until he did it again during the awards ceremony. His bad self held the trophy up like he just invented fire.

Next golf tournament that counts: PGA Championship Hazeltine National Golf Club. Chaska, Minnesota.

Finally, that 3 relative unknowns have won the majors contested so far this year merely affirms my point: Jack Nicklaus is the greatest golfer of all time.

Tiger's great. No doubt about that. He is without question the best of the current bunch and a strong #2 alltime but until he catches Jack's 18 major victories (he's at 14), Nicklaus is #1.

Need more reasons to vote for Jack? Who exactly is Wood's competition? Mickelson? Who else has won more than 2 majors? There are a lot of one major wonders out there on tour today folks. Where is the competition?

Nicklaus fought off Arnold Palmer, Gary Player, Tom Watson, Tom Weiskopf, Julius Boros, Lee "The Merry Mex" Trevino, the great Tony Lema, Seve, Fuzzy and in his later years, he held his own with Nick Price, Greg Norman and Ernie Els.

Tiger's real competition is Tiger.

The Need for a Moat Around My House

2009-07-06T10:57:00.000-07:00

Let's access the past 12 hours shall we?

1:30am

The deaf cat began howling
This makes the dogs bark - loudly
Then the cat fight started between the deaf cat and the retarded cat
This makes the dogs bark even more LOUDLY
I scamper around the house in my skivvies attempting to locate the fight
They are in the basement going at it
Under the Christmas Tree (I know, I know - we're getting around to it)

I finally got back to sleep at 4:30am

Arising at 7:45am to more barking since....
The the pool guy showed up - which produced louder barking
Then the grandfather clock starts clanging
The doorbell rings as one of our nephews comes by to drop something off
My mom calls to tell me something about Michael Jackson's funeral (ugggh)
The dry cleaning needs to go out front
My cell phone starts ringing
The house phone is now ringing
Someone is standing behind me and that drives me crazy
Janae's cell phone then began ringing
The furniture needed to be moved for the tile cleaners
And the window washers who are coming today
As we cleaned up after the party
To make things nice again
But all of this commotion is making me consider building

A moat around my house

4th of July Party at da House

2009-07-04T15:36:00.000-07:00

The Trent Leavitt Family with the Happiest Kid on the Planet

Happy Birthday America - 233 years young

I can only remember 3 previous 4th of July's: In 1970 I was 9 years old we had a block party on our street in Sunnyvale, California. Do they even have those anymore?

At that time, the United States was still deeply involved in the Vietnam war and patriotism was running very high. The Blue Angels from Moffat Field would often fly overhead and did so on the 4th - they buzzed the houses and I could easily make out the tail insignias as I looked skyward. I'm sure lawyers put a stop to that many years ago. Back then, the street was blocked off with barricades, we had a parade, there was a huge BBQ, and plenty of adult beverages for the grownups - after all the '70's were just getting started.

My next memory of this date is from 1976 when the United States celebrated 200 years of revolt...er...freedom from Great Britain. My aunt Mary and uncle Jon visited from western Pennsylvania - they asked if we owned the pool house too. At that time our golden retriever was named Sundance but uncle Jon, God bless him, kept calling him Sundane - too many pabst blue ribbons or too much time in the coal mine? Jon and his family were and still remain, the hardest working people I have ever met in my life. Jon and his boys would work in the coal mine and while on paid vacation, they would drive tour buses. I don't think they ever took a real vacation.

Memory #3 is from 2 years ago. At that time Alec was in Peru. This year, alas, Jake is in Ecuador, and Alec is in Yellowstone with his wife and her family. Not to worry though, my wife has PLENTY of family to fill up the yard and empty the soft ice cream machine - twice.

All other 4th's just seem to fade in and out. I was reminded tonight of the time Wade nearly burned his house down one year and Carolyn cursed him like a sailor. She's got spunk.

My job the past few days has been to put stuff together. Chairs, tables, mist machine and so forth. Thankfully most of this stuff didn't have too many parts and I didn't have any spare ones leftover once I thought I was done. This is a good thing since the last thing I put together had more parts that the space shuttle and I had PLENTY of nuts and bolts and doohickeys left over. And I swear I tried to follow the directions....Finally I just had to scratch my head and throw the parts out before my wife could see them and make the universal wife comment,

"Don't you need to use ALL of those?" ....as sweat poured off my face in the 108 degree heat.

Those parts are at the bottom of some landfill 40 miles from my house.

Anyway, another 4th is in the books - I counted 35 people but I'm sure I missed a few folks. We had a great time.

The legal fireworks were ho-hum but the little ones liked them. I had some illegal fireworks purchased at the Indian reservation a while back. I knew they were good since upon firing them off on the beach 2 years ago they managed to summon the Oceanside, California police department and the marines at Camp Pendelton thought the west coast was under attack. I don't think we caused any alarm tonight since Chase and Beeb's only lit 2, but their superiority was easily evident. I'm going back on the reservation to get the good stuff.

And we had no need to worry about fire safety since firefighter (don't you think this sounds much more menacing than just fireman?) Kip was here with his family. We were in good hands although I hope the Rose's paint job rubs out. I mentioned to everyone that their verbal acknowledgment of the damage and injury waiver was just as tight as a written one. See photo below.... Big Air Chase off the superstructure.

The cat wasn't too thrilled with all the people

Tomorrow is Promised to No One

2009-06-30T21:27:00.000-07:00

I'm overdue. I write today, of course, about Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett and the crazy-good salesguy Billy Mays. All of whom died last week.

My son Jake reminded me that Billy Mays could sell you putty to fix a leaky faucet even if you didn't have a leaky faucet. That's how good this guy was. He could sell ice cubes to Eskimos. To me, with that unbelievably full and robust beard he looked a bit like Brutus from the old Popeye cartoons. He'd sell you a set of vice grips at 2am that you know you wouldn't use, but because of his fiercely manic delivery and sincere belief in the products he hawked, you were compelled to buy one (and get one free) and you better do it fast too or else they might sell out. It's one reason why I stopped watching TV in the middle of the night. Too much stuff.

And Farrah.

Farrah, Farrah, Farrah.

I was a teenager when "The Poster" was unveiled to the world and yes folks - of course I had one tacked to my wall. I want another one. She was beyond hot back in the day.

Alas, aside from her playing Jill Munroe on Charlie's Angels for one stinkin' year, and a few made-for-tv movies that no one watched, I really can't think of anything she did artistically or otherwise for, oh, the past 33 years. But Farrah didn't need to do anything. She was Farrah. We all loved Farrah. Part of my boyhood died last week.

Lastly, I think we were all shocked to learn that The King of Pop died. Michael Jackson was the Elvis of my generation. Amazing talent, a recluse, and larger than life.

I was in the airport when the news broke that MJ had suffered a heart attack and in humankind's attempt to get the scoop, the internet nearly crashed. That's big. I landed in Salt Lake and caught the news that he did in fact pass away.

The next day, I'm watching TV and Jesse Jackson has marched into this circus rhyming all his words together like he does (how does he do that?). And why does Jesse always show up whenever a black person or black family is in the media crosshairs? This begs the question: Do all black people know each other?

The MJ my generation knew was long gone by the time my sons were born. MJ was his best with Off the Wall and Thriller. He got strange post-Thriller when he began hanging out with midgets, monkeys, little kids, and wearing marching band or military uniforms....with a glove on one hand. His once magnificent afro became all jeri-curled and stringy while sticking to his face. Later on came the operating room face masks. Then all the weird cosmetic surgeries that became a staple of the late night humor mill and presto, he'd become Wacko Jacko.

Here's where the comparison with Elvis ends. Even though Elvis was always drunk, bloated and full of pills for the last 10 years of his life, he never carved up his face or was accused of questionable behavior. Raucous and hedonistic behavior? Yes, of course. He WAS Elvis. He died trying to live the dream all gassed up and rarin' to go. Mike? Not so much. He went out with a wimper. Baby needed more pills.

Didn't anyone in his family notice how odd he had become? Didn't anyone have the guts to tell him what how stupid his nose looked? And having kids spend the night at his house? The bad hair? The baby voice?

So a little bit of our collective history left their earthly bounds last week. Fame, fortune or notoriety - Tomorrow is promised to no one.

Sort of makes me want to live a little better each day. To remember to love those around me alittle more. To perhaps not worry so much about the little stuff - or even the big stuff.

Oh yeah, and laugh.

A lot.

The Oneness of Sickness

2009-06-24T11:19:00.000-07:00

Middle of the night....groggy.

Janae whispers, "Put your mask back on." She was referring of course to the mask I wear each night when I go to bed that is hooked up via hose to the Magic Sleep Machine. When the machine is on and the mask isn't sealed to my face it makes a noisy continuous whooshing sound that is loud and annoying.

I turned the machine off and sat on the edge of the bed.

Uh. Oh.

It is precisely at this point, in the wee hours of the morn, when ones hand's suddendly go clammy, your stomach won't stop churning and your noggin' has that swimming feeling and everyone who has ever lived on this planet knows.... without a doubt.... that a trip to the bathroom is imminent.

There is also a sense of focus that one has at this critical time that is unusual. Probably something programmed into our DNA and NOTHING, not even a naked woman, will derail a mans oneness and sense of purpose at this time.

Deep breath. Silent prayer.

Sitting on the can, holding onto a wastebasket for dear life and waiting for the inevitable badness that was headed my way is something we all must face by ourselves. At this moment, we are all utterly alone. It's better this way too. Janae popped her head in the bathroom and said the universally apparent rhetorical question, "You okay."

"Ugghh."

Deep, heavy breathing. I say to myself, "Don't lose your focus dude."

When the big moment finally arrives, there is, all at once, a sense of deep relief and, for me, a concern "Is this it? Is the the start of something that will kill me?"

I won't go into any detail here, but suffice it to say that once my business was complete and I had taken the time to shower and freshen up, I contemplated what just took place.

I came to the conclusion - and I think deep down we all know this - that men are generally wimps when it comes to sickness/illness.

I'm no different.

It's a funny and ironic truth that women usually suck it up when they're sick and go about their business because if they don't do it, nobody will.

Even if women are sick it wouldln't matter to them anyway. Husbands are not prone to excessive bouts of sympathetic behavior anyway and just exactly who is going to take care of the kids all day, fix dinner, clean the house, pay the bills, answer the phone and take care of The King?

For reasons noted above, women just can't afford to be sick. Men, on the otherhand, lay in bed and milk being sick for all its worth. We're shameless when it comes to this sort of behavior. SHAMELESS.

Whenever a man get sick, its the equivalent of the earth coming to a stop. We want everyone to know how sick we are. We demand our illness be acknowledged and that we be given the care and respect we deserve - as masters of our own universe. After all, this could be the one illness that ends our life. It's that bad. Always is.

We also demand that every single resident of the home submit to a funeral wake-like demeanor in our presence. Ask ANY wife, this boorish behavior can go on FOR DAYS.

Finally, when the illness runs its course, or a good ballgame is on the TV, we'll emerge from our den but demand that we be treated as if we were still sick. This means we don't get up to get ANYTHING for ourselves and overuse the phrase,

"Honey, will you please bring me a_________________"

It's not a question so much as a statement.

Our best friend during all this is the remote control for the television. We can live without our cell phones, emails and internet access but there's no way we survive without TV during this crisis.

And so the beat goes on. Life beckons. My stomach muscles are sore and I'm a little achey, but thankfully it appears that I just had a 12 hour bug. Probably something I ate.

Why I Am Not a Camper

2009-06-20T09:28:00.000-07:00

Late June already.

Without young kids, the whole end of school/summer break thing is irrelevant to me. School letting out is no longer an important date on the calendar in the Runyon home.

I do however miss the energy that the end of the school year brings and the anticipation of those long, lazy days of summer.

But that was my world. Old School.

Nowadays, kids are shipped off to a variety of summer camps. They go on church history tours lasting several weeks. They attend volleyball, basketball, soccer, tennis, dance, and music camps. A lot of kids attend more than one camp and some have parents that don't want to do the parenting thing at all and have their kids go to all of them - and demand they like it.

And then there is scout camp.

For the boys, scout camp is generally held at one of several Boy Scouts of America run facilities that are located all over the country. The ones that our scouts use are generally located in California, Utah or Nevada although on some occasions, our boys will make the trek to Philmont which is in New Mexico. Philmont would be considered the Mecca of the scouting universe. If you are a serious scouter, you go to Philmont to drink the koolaid. You will be instructed by Golden and Silver Beavers. Your goal is to become a Beaver yourself one day.

For the boys, scout camp's emphasis is to earn merit badges.

Along the way, all sorts of shenanigans take place. Canoes tip over. Tents are rigged to collapse. Every year there are universal complaints about the food but in my opinion since someone else cooks AND cleans up you eat what they serve and keep your mouth shut. In summary: Quit complaining. I hate whiners.

There are also middle of the night sneak attacks on other scouts. There are all night story telling sessions (with much embellishment to be sure) and all sorts of memorable experiences that will help turn boys into men. Scout camp is rite of summer and signals the passing of yet another stage in a boys life. Next up for them is usually a drivers license. Then dating. Graduation. College. Mission. Marriage. Taxes. Death. Generally in that order.

My own experience with scout camp - perhaps a decade ago - was something I will never forget. I'm not a camper. I don't like sleeping on anything less than thousand count bed sheets. As far as I know, there aren't any sleeping bags that would meet this standard. Plus I like room service. I may not use room service, but I like to know it's there - just in case.

I don't understand why people want to camp - it's like saying, "I'm not driving my car today - I'll hitch up the horse and buggy." A quaint gesture at best.

Me and camping don't jive. I want an internet connection, ESPN, a robe, a shower with a loofa, and the aforementioned in-room dining option - in case I need it.

Anyway, I've been coaxed into camping a few times in my life. With the exception of Father/Son outings, scout overnighters and my lone experience (to be chronicled briefly here) at scout camp, I VOLUNTARILY went camping ONE TIME.

Wade convinced me it would be a good idea to do it.

He said, "Let's take our boys - it'll be great."

That was the hook - my sons. I would do anything for them and the prospect of sleeping in a tent under the stars DID seem like a good idea (at the time - I was idealistic).

We (Wade) picked the Duck Creek area in Southern Utah for this outing. The boys were thrilled to be going with their cousins. Wade brought Dixon and also invited TL's son Kahre to join us. We loaded up groceries (massive amounts of junk food) at Lin's in Cedar City, and sped off to the mountains located due east. A half-hour later we arrived at our destination and picked a place to set up camp- a flat spot underneath some gigantic trees. On dirt.

The tent was easy to set up. It was one of those things that is wound so tightly in its sack that someone like me with no patience could never get it back in there. I considered it to be a "disposable tent" for this reason alone. It became more disposable later on.

The boys were young - 4 and 2 respectively. Jake was at the end stage of potty training too....you can see where this is headed.

When the rains came in the middle of the night, our lack of camping experience was brutally exposed. Since we set up camp on dirt and didn't put down a liner underneath the tent, water had begun creeping into our abode and the mud wasn't far behind.

Jake started crying.

The lightning and a diaper full of #1 and #2 will do that to any 2 year old. I cried out for MY mommy.

I was clearly overmatched and utterly overwhelmed and we were less than 12 hours into our little excursion. Right then I decided that our two-nighter Father/Son campout would be cut in half.

Changing a diaper is usually a breeze. I could do it in my sleep. Changing a diaper confined as it were in the middle of the night while rain pelted us, a screaming 2 year old, an agitated, wide-eyed 4 year old, a soaked tent, and the feeling that I was rapidly losing control of the situation all contributed to me making a pledge right then and there that I would never again go camping. Somehow we managed to survive that night in the wilderness.

And left for home the next day.

10 years later I was guilted into what has turned out to be my last campout. Our scout leaders picked a campsite in the high Sierra's. Camp Kern was located in the middle of nowhere about 4 hours from Las Vegas. All fathers were asked if they wanted to spend a few nights with the boys who would be in attendance for the entire week. I opted to take the last shift so I'd be able to help tear down the camp and give kids a ride back home. The last shift was also only a two night commitment.

Chris Figgins was my co-pilot on the ride up there. This was pre-nav system so we were forced to use maps and a compass - real scout stuff. Since we were the last fathers to reach the camp, we had the shittiest tent. Not only was the tent sagging, it had holes in it, and worst of all it stood alone in the middle of an opening. This meant we had no shade. This became apparent to us on day #1 when the temperature crept toward the century mark, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The beauty and serenity of this pristine camp was shattered. Tents, as I soon found out, have no fans or AC. Brother Slade, who is an expert camper/handyman by the way, was kind enough to help out two pitiful city boys repair our tent with gigantic knots so the top didn't sag. He also rounded up some pads for our cots to enhance our nightime sleeping accomodations. The pads were filthy and stinky so mentally, I was fighting that issue. Really, the least of my concerns.

The latrine was horrific. A huge hole in the ground with a crude toilet if you were brave enought to sit down. The shower was cold and with hundreds of sweaty, dirty, stinky, filthy scouts using it, there was no way on earth I would even go inside that shed. Not in a million years.

My solution to all of this: Avoid the latrine. Only go #1. Use massive amounts of purell hand sanitizer. I had a lot of bottled water and I preferred to rinse off with that...alone in the woods. For sustenance I had the always delicious cheetos cheese puffs and the versatile Jack Links Smokehouse Original Beef Jerky. I could make it for 2 days on that diet easy - heck, I did it in Peru years later and it worked just as good then. Perhaps I should let NASA in on my little dietary secret so they can keep the astronauts refueled?

When the boys and I packed up camp I bid farewell to that lifestyle. I know that some people love to commune with nature by sleeping under the stars, cooking up meals in a little tin pot over an itty bitty fire and then doing it all over again for a week or more.

That life just isn't for me.

For obvious reasons.

NBA Finals

2009-06-14T20:42:00.000-07:00

I arose from a long Sunday afternoon nap that (oops) had crept into the evening and witnessed the very end of the Laker-Magic series. Yawn.

I had long ago come to grips that the Lakers would win another NBA title this year -they are just too deep. I was however not prepared for the awkwardness that would accompany such a victory.

On the makeshift podium erected at center court, NBA Commissioner Stern presented the Larry O'Brien Trophy to the 2009 equivalent of Beavis and Butthead. These guys were the owners sons. I think Dr. Buss was pheasant hunting in Argentina or something and couldn't make the series so he sent his boys. I half expected the word "dude" to come of son #1's mouth during his acceptance speech. ABC had the good sense to not allow the 2nd son to speak at all and cut right to interviewing the Zen Master himself, Phil Jackson. That the trophy would be presented to people the sporting world knew nothing of was creepy. For all we knew, these guys could have tied Dr. Buss up in the back, SAID they were his sons, and orchestrated the whole thing. Great gag if it turns out to be true.

I also found Kobe Bryant's postgame enthusiasm and playfulness to be somewhat contrived. I mean it's not like he has EVER been known as a good teammate. On the contrary, he has been universally disliked due to his surliness, selfishness and aloofness. Then again, he quit going to school after the 12th grade and quit taking classes years before that. Simply, people don't love Kobe because he writes poetry or does complex ordinary differential equations.

Another annoyance is that he has to foolishly compare himself to the Diesel all the time. Everyone knows that Shaq was the glue that held those first 3 title-teams together and it killed, killed, killed Kobe that Shaq picked up #4 in Miami without him. That Kobe has now won #4, in his own teeny weeny little pea brain he justified his greatness to himself. Sure Kobe is a great ballplayer, and has a great nickname, The Black Mamba, but bottom line, he's just a shitty teammate. In fact, I'd rather lose with Dwight Howard than win with Kobe. Ouch.

As in all good fairy tales, Kobe's season-long scowl had turned into a smile by the end of the game. He jumped into the air when the buzzer went off and was giddy like a 7 year old at Toys 'R Us. He was a hugging, high-fiving, knucklebumping machine. Teammates hugged by Bryant weren't sure what to make of this new Kobe - but it's not like they are deep thinkers anyway. They hugged back.

And what is the deal with all the suits having to hug the sweaty players? If I'm a coach, no way I'm going to hug anybody with that much sweat dripping off them (task repeated a dozen times). It's just gross man. No one likes the smell of wet wool let alone sweaty wet wool. Or am I the only person that thinks of this?

The US Open is this week. When that wraps up we officially enter the dead zone. We'll be in sports limbo until the NFL kicks off in early September - sure there will be a few Grand Slams littered throughout the summer in golf and tennis, a few thousand baseball games, but the meat and potatoes of sports will disappear for a few months. Time for us sports fans to take a breather - restock the fridge, do laundry, pull weeds, change the oil in the car....all things on the to-do list that never quite got finished.

The Lakers? Yeah I know we'll have to hear all about their greatness for the next year - maybe longer.

It's okay - I just tune 'em out.

Time Travel

2009-06-09T07:12:00.000-07:00

4:30am? What the.....?

This hour is always, 100%,reserved for sleep. That is of course unless one's body clock is out of sorts like mine is and will be for a few days.

I marvel at the fact I can wake up in Paris, hop on a plane and be seated at my desk in the office before the end of the same day. Granted, the 9 time zone difference helped me be Superman yesterday. Today, I'm more like Clark Kent. Human. Vulnerable. Hungry. Tired.

So what does one do at 4:30am? For one, I took my time unpacking. No way I could have unpacked last night - my body ached all over and my eyeballs were spinning around while I tried to convince myself, "Stay up until 10, stay up until 10," - repeated 100 times.

It didn't work.

I flopped in bed at 9 and was asleep by the time my magic sleep machine even revved up.

As I sifted through my things this morning, I found the dirt. Over the years I've made it a point to collect sand from all of the beaches I've traveled to around the globe. Pink sand from Bermuda? Check. Volcanic sand from Hawaii's Big Island? Check. The list goes on. While at Roland Garros I was able to scoop up some of the famous terre battue (red clay). I am still angry with myself for not getting sand from Augusta National a few years ago. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. My collection grows. Still, there are many more places to go before the last capsule of dirt will ever be filled. Some moon rocks would be nice one day.

As always, my mom watched the house while we were gone and as usual, I came home to a place that was better then I left it (except for the pool problem-more on this later).

Mom re-plants flower beds that have withered in the heat. She organizes drawers or closets that we've overlooked and that have turned into Fred Flintstone's closet - in otherwords open at your own risk. Mom, you're the best. But you forgot to clean out the garage. I'm cutting your allowance this month.

Best of all though was that I realized that since the nest is empty, more short hops around the planet are in order.

The world is a neat place and I have always enjoyed going to far off lands and muddling through the language barriers with serviceable Spanish, and less serviceable French. I do however AWAYS use the accent of the country I travel to and talk louder if they don't understand me - a universal and moronic gesture to be sure, but I do it to be funny. Janae rolls her eyes but inside I KNOW she is laughing. Sure it's juvenile. Big deal. It produces hilarity on a grand scale and makes for great dinner conversation. If nothing else, I'm charming when I travel.

I have a wicked-good English accent and have perfected it over the years by discourse with Jake and in his absence Davey. One day while I was standing in the checkout line at Von's I overheard the lady in front of me speaking with an English accent. I couldn't resist. I stepped up to the plate.

I said, "Iz you from the U.K.?"

She turned, smiled and said, "Yes. Which part are you from?"

"Uh....London...Westminster Abbey. Cheers." And walked away.

I don't even know if that is really a place. It took everything I could not to just bust out laughing in her face but the accent was good. Clean.

One year in Barcelona I volunteered my leadership to the group despite, at that time, some questionable foreign language skills. We embarked on an aggressive tour of the city by ourselves. While I managed to lead us to the Gaudi catherdral with little or no trouble (it's the origin of tacky....as in gaudi - it's true, look it up), I did however make a lot of Spaniards laugh out loud. Perhaps I will do a comedy gig there one day?

As for leaving, usually anything more than a week and I'll generally get anxious to be back home - to survey the compound, check the mail, and sit at my desk in the office. All of these worries are archiac and are remants of my father's world. His generation worked at their office, conducted meetings there and lived and died by this old school work ethic credo: Spend long hours at the office.

Our world today is far different. Hours do not measure performance. I can have my bills sent to me electronically. I can do my banking over the web. Anywhere there is cell and internet service I can stay in touch with clients and handle things just as if I was sitting in my office in Las Vegas. As much as I am a slave to the old world, I need to adapt better to the new one AND do things electronically. Heck, I still write checks by hand.

As for business, my biggest client doesn't even live here nor does he necessarily need to see me. Like all clients, they simply need to talk to me. To be able to communicate with me. Jumbo client was on vacation last week just as I was and we both managed to handle various issues without sitting down face to face. My job doesn't require me, for example, to be in an operating room like a surgeon in order to make a living. I don't manufacture anything or swing a hammer so being at a specific place at a specific time isn't relevant. I'm in the relationship business. I just need to have fully charged batteries, an up-to-date rolodex...er....the electronic version, and the guts to trust my instincts.

Okay, so the pool story I referred to earlier remains a mind-numbing experience that can only be fully understood by those souls who have dealt with contractors. As emails testify, our journey began on February 28th of this year. I even blogged about this back in March when the pool guy couldn't muster up the courage, not that I blame him, to jump in 45 degree water to replace 4 pool lights. 4 months later however I am happy to report that 3 of the 4 lights are working. It's the one that sits rusting on the pool deck like unexploded WWII military ordinance that is cause for concern.

I mean, it's June in Las Vegas and people come over all the time to swim and the light just sits there. Sure it's in a protective canister but it's the still-plugged-into-the-electrical-grid part that worries me - aside from the general annoyance of the thing just sitting there week in and week out.

You know what though? Just this morning I made a decision. I decided, just call someone else and get the damn thing fixed. My to-do list just got longer but my mind will rest easy knowing that my grandnieces and nephews who sojourn here to cool off in the pool will do so in safety.

As I sit here in the early morning of a rather cool and overcast Las Vegas day, I contemplate my world - life is extraordinarily good.

I am grateful for this.

How Rare is Greatness?

2009-06-07T10:16:00.001-07:00

Judging from what we saw today, it's pretty damn rare.

We were at Roland Garros in Paris for the French Open men's final today and saw Roger Federer complete the career grand slam and tie Pete Sampras' record of 14 total grand slams. Federer got to 14 in 40 tournaments, it took Pete more than 50.

It was a cold and rainy day in Paris, but the nice thing about playing on the red clay is that it is the one slam that can be played in damp conditions. Hard courts and grass get too slippery even if it just sprinkles, but not the red clay at Roland Garros. So, just like the Super Bowl in Miami 18 months ago, I got to sit in the rain and watch history. It was incredible.

Each generation has "the greatest of all time" (GOAT for short) and we've been blessed to witness Roger Federer and Tiger Woods ascend to the pinnacle of their respective sports at pretty much the same time (they each have 14 majors by the way). Woods is a few years older but will play far longer than RF since mens singles at any level puts enormous pressure on elbows, knees, shoulders, and backs and it would not surprise me to see King Federer quit playing in a few years once the slam record is safely out of Rafa's reach. Time will tell.

There are so many talented people around the world and in all walks of life, but true greatness? It's pretty rare and if you ever get a chance to see it up close you'll know it.

We saw it.