I have hosted for the first time. One of the many joys of owning a home is having people stay over. During the first couple of days my mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law stayed, but that was more of a live-in worker situation. Having my dad in the house meant a few things. I'd have to clean. The guest bed would have to be prepped. There were little things, like what kind of food/beverages that he needed. I assumed that having coffee and wine would suffice and I was pretty close to right.
There are times when being an adult is nothing but a pain. There are times when it's pretty fun. It was fun to host my dad, cook on the grill like a big boy and have him drive me to and from poker night. Sure, it afforded me an opportunity to drink more than I usually do at such events.
You never think of your parents changing. They're pretty much ready-made when they have you and that is that. Of course that's ridiculous. Just look outside for five minutes and you know that everything is in constant change. One major change in my dad's life is that he re-joined the Catholic Church. I won't get into the specifics of religion or how I feel about it. It added community. It added meaning. Just that alone makes it a positive. I found it slightly more unnerving that he's ahead of me technologically. He has an iPod touch. I just have the lame Nano. Let's not mistake ahead technologically with actually being able to understand the technology. He tried to get hooked up to our wireless network at the house and had server issues. I didn't know how to help. He seemed OK with it.
My dad's making iPod playlists. And they're good. This is the same man who skirted his high school "no jeans" policy by wearing Madras pants. I've seen the shorts and deemed every man wearing them a douche. The pants are probably making a comeback.
When we got home from poker last night, well past both of our bed times, he wondered where the coffee was for the morning. My smart and ahead of the game wifey had written instructions next to the coffee maker. The best part about being a host is having a co-host.
We're taking this whole hosting thing to the next level this afternoon by having the brother, sister-in-law, and nephews over. The nephews will be fine as long as they can plug in their DS games. I'm grilling, because that's what a man does. That's what I do, anyway.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Facebook fun
For the most part, I enjoy Facebook. It’s cool to keep up with people I do not converse with on a regular basis. I could do without a lot of the Villes, but that’s a personal preference. The inspirational quotes get old too but the brilliance of Facebook is you can clear out anything that you want.
I’m going to comment on a couple of posts that especially caught my attention. They are political and talking politics is a good way to end any constructional conversation. I just couldn’t help but comment on the posts and the comments to the posts.
One of my Facebook “friends” intoned that he didn’t understand why Obama continued to pursue health care reform when no one wanted it. This friend hasn’t met my father in law who lost his job last August and is about to lose his Cobra coverage. He gets no health care. This Facebook scribe had a comment from a friend that said something regarding getting high, eating watermelon and chicken, and other original thoughts. I was a bit taken aback. The racism was casual but I was more offended by the bad humor. If you’re going to throw out a racial stereotype, dig a little deeper, people. I fear for America if our racists are getting lazy.
Another quality Facebook post involved the right to vote. There’s a pet peeve about everyone having the right to vote. It’s hard to speak in favor for the voting public when they vote in a guy who cheated on his wife with his mother-in-law. That’s a good point, but it says nothing of the man’s opponent or the positive reasons for voting for him. I admit that the mother-in-law tap is pretty egregious, but if cheaters were kept out of public office we might run out of politicians.
I’m going to comment on a couple of posts that especially caught my attention. They are political and talking politics is a good way to end any constructional conversation. I just couldn’t help but comment on the posts and the comments to the posts.
One of my Facebook “friends” intoned that he didn’t understand why Obama continued to pursue health care reform when no one wanted it. This friend hasn’t met my father in law who lost his job last August and is about to lose his Cobra coverage. He gets no health care. This Facebook scribe had a comment from a friend that said something regarding getting high, eating watermelon and chicken, and other original thoughts. I was a bit taken aback. The racism was casual but I was more offended by the bad humor. If you’re going to throw out a racial stereotype, dig a little deeper, people. I fear for America if our racists are getting lazy.
Another quality Facebook post involved the right to vote. There’s a pet peeve about everyone having the right to vote. It’s hard to speak in favor for the voting public when they vote in a guy who cheated on his wife with his mother-in-law. That’s a good point, but it says nothing of the man’s opponent or the positive reasons for voting for him. I admit that the mother-in-law tap is pretty egregious, but if cheaters were kept out of public office we might run out of politicians.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Snow, darn you, snow!
Yesterday we waited and waited in Atlanta. At least three times we’ve been just south of winter weather. Trust me, we really don’t want a big snowfall. We just want to see the pretty stuff fall.
At work I have a weekly Friday meeting at 11. It was moved to 3 p.m. Friday afternoon meetings are the worst kind of corporate “we own your soul” moments. We assumed that the meeting wouldn’t take place. Snow was supposed to fall starting at noon and surely our panicky building supervisor, fearing lawsuits, would send us home.
The snow refused to fall. I checked the Weather Channel satellite image and we were surrounded by green, pink, and blue. Nothing would fall. Work slowed but did not stop. I made a lunchtime trip to Trader Joe’s and the place was about three times as packed as usual. Half of the people were buying supplies for the “big snowstorm” and the other half were getting Valentine’s Day supplies. Trader Joe’s prices are reasonable but when I saw a pound of long-stemmed strawberries for $9, even I paused. Yes, long-stemmed strawberries were recommended for the fondue recipe I’m trying on Sunday. The regular stem ones will go just fine.
The snow started around 1:30 p.m. We could barely see it at first but by 2 it was coming down heavily. There was legitimate concern for the ride home. Bad weather plus drivers not used to snow is a tough equation. We got the “building is closed” e-mail. There was a groan when everyone read the contents. 4 p.m.! By that time, the roads would be clogged. We were stuck.
I would say about 15 minutes of work was completed during the next hour. We had our meeting, which was noticeably shorter than usual. It was time to hit the eject button.
I finally got to see the snow falling through our bay window. So that’s why you have a house. The driveway’s going to be frozen and we might not be able to leave the house tomorrow. That was fine. I had survived the great Atlanta snowstorm of 2010.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Virtual greatness
Every time I play a game of video football, I wonder if it’s going to be one of “those” games. Most of the time the game is uncontested or lacking in drama. Since I got back into Tecmo, I had one of those games. As San Francisco, I routinely have been blowing teams out. When I played the Colts, and not a particularly good Colts team, I struggled. My offense couldn’t do anything and my defense gave up big plays. When the Colts scored to make it 19-7 and there was about a minute left, I thought there was potential for a dramatic finish.
My previously horrible offense scored quickly. It was 19-14. I needed a stop or an interception. I got an interception on the second play. With about 25 seconds to go, I got inside the ten. I had four plays. In Tecmo, if the defense “calls” your play, it’s not going to work. They called my play three out of the four times. I had one scramble by Montana but could not score. I was short.
Since this is a video game I re-played the game and won easily. Of course. Now I get to play the championship game versus Cleveland (of all teams). Let’s see how it goes.
It went well. My Wii did not react well to our brief power outage yesterday morning. I couldn’t get it to power back up. The only way I got it to work was by unplugging it from the surge protector and plugging it into the other outlet.
I assumed that the team I played in the Tecmo Bowl would be good. The Cleveland Browns did not offer much of a struggle. Because there’s almost no such thing as a breakaway in the game, your best defensive strategy is to make the other team sustain long drives. Sooner or later you’re going to guess right and get an interception. In the first half I had three interceptions and a blocked field goal. I took a 17-0 lead into the third quarter.
This was not a classic Joe Montana performance. I threw four interceptions, including two in the end zone in the third quarter. The Browns scored a TD to make it 17-6. Pretty soon thereafter I scored to make it 24-6 and the rout was on.
I kept stats for this game. In honor of his Hall of Fame induction, Jerry Rice caught 14 passes for 210 yards. He couldn’t get in the end zone. Roger Craig had 13 carries for 54 yards and three touchdowns. Montana ran for the other touchdown.
The 1989 49ers had one of the most dominant playoff runs ever. In the Divisional round they beat the Vikings 41-13. In the NFC Championship they beat the Rams 30-3. In the Super Bowl they pounded the Broncos, scoring a record 55 points. That’s three playoff wins by a combined 100 points. My 38-12 victory pales in comparison.
My previously horrible offense scored quickly. It was 19-14. I needed a stop or an interception. I got an interception on the second play. With about 25 seconds to go, I got inside the ten. I had four plays. In Tecmo, if the defense “calls” your play, it’s not going to work. They called my play three out of the four times. I had one scramble by Montana but could not score. I was short.
Since this is a video game I re-played the game and won easily. Of course. Now I get to play the championship game versus Cleveland (of all teams). Let’s see how it goes.
It went well. My Wii did not react well to our brief power outage yesterday morning. I couldn’t get it to power back up. The only way I got it to work was by unplugging it from the surge protector and plugging it into the other outlet.
I assumed that the team I played in the Tecmo Bowl would be good. The Cleveland Browns did not offer much of a struggle. Because there’s almost no such thing as a breakaway in the game, your best defensive strategy is to make the other team sustain long drives. Sooner or later you’re going to guess right and get an interception. In the first half I had three interceptions and a blocked field goal. I took a 17-0 lead into the third quarter.
This was not a classic Joe Montana performance. I threw four interceptions, including two in the end zone in the third quarter. The Browns scored a TD to make it 17-6. Pretty soon thereafter I scored to make it 24-6 and the rout was on.
I kept stats for this game. In honor of his Hall of Fame induction, Jerry Rice caught 14 passes for 210 yards. He couldn’t get in the end zone. Roger Craig had 13 carries for 54 yards and three touchdowns. Montana ran for the other touchdown.
The 1989 49ers had one of the most dominant playoff runs ever. In the Divisional round they beat the Vikings 41-13. In the NFC Championship they beat the Rams 30-3. In the Super Bowl they pounded the Broncos, scoring a record 55 points. That’s three playoff wins by a combined 100 points. My 38-12 victory pales in comparison.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Blood type: O positive. Blood drive experience: Oh negative
You never notice a trauma while it’s happening.
I used to be really afraid of needles. Once when I was in college I donated blood. The “for a girl” part should be assumed. I got so nervous that my vein collapsed midway through. After being stuck many hundreds of times in every vein from my back of my hand to the usual spot on the underside of the elbow, I was past that. Still, I have small veins. It’s not something I’m proud to admit. It’s hard to find them.
At least it’s hard for Red Cross volunteers to find them. I went probably half a dozen times in the early 00s and finally gave up. It took too long. They would try one vein, pull out and want to try another. The initial needle stick hurts for such a brief time that by the time your mind registers it, you’re done. When the needle is inside you and the so-called expert is pushing it back and forth, it really hurts.
I saw the e-mail for a company blood drive last week. I thought what the heck.
I made an appointment for 8:30 because 8 and 8:15 were full. When I got to the room, they were still putting it together. I assumed that the procedure was not much different than the last time I tried and I was right. Instead of them asking you weird questions about diseases you’ve never heard of, they let you fill out a survey on a battered laptop. I finished, got up and sat down on one of the portable chairs, which look like the worst beach chairs ever created.
I told the nurse that my right arm was the better arm for veins. She found one initially but moved to the left. Before applying about a quart of iodine to the crook of my elbow, she said “that might work”. There aren’t too many times in life when you hear “that might work” and you are filled with confidence. Does Jack Bauer ever say “that might work”?
The stick wasn’t bad. One the red stuff started to flow, the nurse told me to keep squeezing my left hand. I more or less squeezed continuously for an unmeasurable amount of time.
When you give blood, the following probably shouldn’t happen:
You are given enough bottles of water to equal the amount of water you’re supposed to drink for an entire day.
The needle is adjusted while in your vein. It’s a nice, subtle feeling like electroshock.
Someone checks on whether the blood is still flowing. This happened about every 12 seconds.
The room is so cold that by the end of the process, your entire body is shaking.
You should not be able to compare the process to 30 minutes of the Bataan Death March.
I don’t think referring to “30 minutes of the Bataan Death March” is insulting to anyone who survived or died during that horrible atrocity. Admit it; 30 minutes of the march wouldn’t be bad. It would be unpleasant. And it might seem like a lot longer than 30 minutes.
There are times when you want to do the right thing, the proper thing, the thing that’s for the greater good. It can be uncomfortable. It shouldn’t be intolerable.
In the end, I gave slightly less than a pint of blood. I wondered when you would actually need less than a pint of blood. Would it be the equivalent of going to the dealership and getting your fluids topped off?
I arrived at the blood drive at 8:15. I left after 9:30. It shouldn’t have to be like this, I thought on the way to my car, enduring the worst weather of all, the cold rain. Actually I didn’t think that. I was traumatized and the only thing I wanted to do was not feel cold. When you get so cold that you can’t think of anything else and can’t even imagine being warm, everything else gets shut out.
The Nutter Butter didn’t help. The juice didn’t help. A Diet Dr Pepper didn’t help. Going out for pizza helped a little. It’s a quarter to ten and I’m wiped out.
I used to be really afraid of needles. Once when I was in college I donated blood. The “for a girl” part should be assumed. I got so nervous that my vein collapsed midway through. After being stuck many hundreds of times in every vein from my back of my hand to the usual spot on the underside of the elbow, I was past that. Still, I have small veins. It’s not something I’m proud to admit. It’s hard to find them.
At least it’s hard for Red Cross volunteers to find them. I went probably half a dozen times in the early 00s and finally gave up. It took too long. They would try one vein, pull out and want to try another. The initial needle stick hurts for such a brief time that by the time your mind registers it, you’re done. When the needle is inside you and the so-called expert is pushing it back and forth, it really hurts.
I saw the e-mail for a company blood drive last week. I thought what the heck.
I made an appointment for 8:30 because 8 and 8:15 were full. When I got to the room, they were still putting it together. I assumed that the procedure was not much different than the last time I tried and I was right. Instead of them asking you weird questions about diseases you’ve never heard of, they let you fill out a survey on a battered laptop. I finished, got up and sat down on one of the portable chairs, which look like the worst beach chairs ever created.
I told the nurse that my right arm was the better arm for veins. She found one initially but moved to the left. Before applying about a quart of iodine to the crook of my elbow, she said “that might work”. There aren’t too many times in life when you hear “that might work” and you are filled with confidence. Does Jack Bauer ever say “that might work”?
The stick wasn’t bad. One the red stuff started to flow, the nurse told me to keep squeezing my left hand. I more or less squeezed continuously for an unmeasurable amount of time.
When you give blood, the following probably shouldn’t happen:
You are given enough bottles of water to equal the amount of water you’re supposed to drink for an entire day.
The needle is adjusted while in your vein. It’s a nice, subtle feeling like electroshock.
Someone checks on whether the blood is still flowing. This happened about every 12 seconds.
The room is so cold that by the end of the process, your entire body is shaking.
You should not be able to compare the process to 30 minutes of the Bataan Death March.
I don’t think referring to “30 minutes of the Bataan Death March” is insulting to anyone who survived or died during that horrible atrocity. Admit it; 30 minutes of the march wouldn’t be bad. It would be unpleasant. And it might seem like a lot longer than 30 minutes.
There are times when you want to do the right thing, the proper thing, the thing that’s for the greater good. It can be uncomfortable. It shouldn’t be intolerable.
In the end, I gave slightly less than a pint of blood. I wondered when you would actually need less than a pint of blood. Would it be the equivalent of going to the dealership and getting your fluids topped off?
I arrived at the blood drive at 8:15. I left after 9:30. It shouldn’t have to be like this, I thought on the way to my car, enduring the worst weather of all, the cold rain. Actually I didn’t think that. I was traumatized and the only thing I wanted to do was not feel cold. When you get so cold that you can’t think of anything else and can’t even imagine being warm, everything else gets shut out.
The Nutter Butter didn’t help. The juice didn’t help. A Diet Dr Pepper didn’t help. Going out for pizza helped a little. It’s a quarter to ten and I’m wiped out.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Welcome to the Grill House
I lit the fire last night. The grill sat dormant for too long. Don, proprietor of the Don Funk Sports Grill where I watch most of my football, donated a propane tank to the festivities.
I’m trying to think of the proper comparison to the moment right after you’ve started the gas and turned on the burners and are about to press the electric igniter for the first time. Prom night? Wedding night? There’s a lot of anticipation for this event. It promises to be memorable. I clicked the button and nothing happened.
It’s no fun when your lighter won’t light. Luckily I had a quick solution. I don’t understand why, when you buy electronics, that they either come with no batteries or batteries from a company that no one has ever heard of. You’re guaranteed to have to replace said batteries quickly. I took out the off-brand battery and replaced it. I heard the beautiful clicks and we had one, two, three, four burners going with that pretty blue flame.
I burned the time for the grill to warm up by continuing the amazing undefeated season of the San Francisco 49ers on Tecmo Bowl. I played the Cowboys. This was the 1989 1-15 Cowboys. Daryl Johnston had 212 rushing yards that year but in this game he had about 150 yards and two touchdowns. I won but didn’t feel great about it.
The grill has a temperature gauge. I set all the burners to high because that’s what men do. The temperature was at the top of the gauge, 600 beautiful degrees. I had to cool it down to almost the minimum to get the temperature to around 450. That much heat instantly seared our steaks. Don had his Don style, which is about 30 seconds warmer than uncooked. Mine were in fairly rare so I gave them another minute.
The steaks were good. I had a few sweet potato fries. I even ate a couple of grape tomatoes. Speaking of grape, Don’s a big fan of the Cab Sav and I have been known to partake so we drank. And ate. And played Wii golf. I won twice, but Don blamed his controller for a poor performance. Real men don’t blame the controller. They blame the controllee.
I now have the uber TV and the uber grill. And the uber wife, of course. She smartly avoided our man cave grunt-off.
What else could a man want? Um, how about an HD TiVo. Because real men don’t watch commercials.
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