Reflections on a 5k

This past Saturday I participated in my first 5k.  The race was hosted in Plano, TX, by the Heroes for Children organization.  This wonderful cause was created by two ladies who lost kids to childhood cancers, and the organization provides assistance to families who are enduring similar troubles in their life.   I am very proud and honored to have run my first-ever 5k (and first ever athletic event of any kind) in support of this organization.

I did pretty good on the 5k, considering that I had never done one before and am nursing a balky knee.  I am not quite far enough along in my training regimen to run 3 miles yet, so I walked about half of it and ran what I could.  I did finish on a run, though, and logged a "chip time" of 40:41.   I'm quite pleased with that, as my only goals for this were to finish and attempt to finish in less than 45 minutes.  I was just below the average for runners in my age/gender division.  

Some random thoughts from the events of the day:

1.  I was saddened that my family was not able to attend the event and watch me run.  The vagaries of the fall soccer season for my boys prevented that... but I know my lovely wife and handsome boys were cheering me on in spirit.

2.  Some guys would scoff at this, but I could have sworn some moisture from Hurricane Ike got in my eyes during the pre-race ceremonies as we heard the tale of the founders' kiddoes that died from cancer, and were introduced to children who are currently fighting the greatest fight of their young lives.   Somehow the moisture got there about an hour before it started raining.  Go figure.

3.  A young man named Carson, who is battling cancer, has a LOT of people who love him.  They were all there, in powder-blue tshirts emlazoned with "Carson's Crusaders" on it.   I think I counted at least 30 or more.   My prayers are with that young man... he is looking great right now, and I hope that he continues to kick his adversary right in the teeth.

4.  I saw one of the Geico cavemen there.  I kid you not, there was one guy in the crowd with quite a beard and hairdo.....

5.  And then there was the guy in the kilt... and he ran the 5k.  I passed him at one point.  Fortunately, the tropical storm winds had not arrived yet... I had no desire to see how authentic his mode of dress was.....

6.  In mile 3 of the run, I figured out that I was a "pacer".  I powerwalked most of the third mile before running the final 1/8 or so to the finish.  However, when I powerwalk, I am really booking it.  Consequently, I would pass people all the time who had dropped to a walk as well.  I would get a ways ahead of them and then they would run again, just a little bit past me, then drop to a walk again... and I would pass them again in short order.    I began to get the sense that they would say  "Hey!  the fat guy is passing me again... I gotta run!"  :-)

7.  Doing athletic things makes you appreciate food afterwards.   The body has a sense that you've earned it to some degree.   A sausage biscuit with egg NEVER tasted so good as it did Saturday morning.

8.  Finally.... my feelings about my first 5k are in no way reflected by my spot in the final rankings.  I knew I was not ready to 'compete' in any fashion.   But this 5k is the first milestone that I can point to in my quest to live a more active, healthy life.  I entered a running competition and I finished, and finished on my terms with a good run.  It is something that I am extremely proud for having done, and I can't wait to do another one.... and to someday do one after having climbed off my bike, 2/3 of the way through a triathlon!

Phelps still has nothing to worry about...

But the swimming is finally getting better!  I finally have figured out how all the parts work, and now I'm swimming pretty consistently.  There is still a lot of refining to do, and I keep a constant eye on my mechanics, but now the basic stroke is built, and I'm toodling down the pool in good fashion.

The key was the breathing.  I finally settled on a "2" breathing pattern.  (Breathing on the same side, every time that arm comes up out of the water over your head).   The trick to it was learning to take smaller breaths, rather than gulping a big lungful, which is what I was doing before.  This didn't work because I didn't have time to exhale it before it was time to breathe again, and you need to have it timed where you have exhaled it all through your nose and are ready to inhale as soon as your head comes out of the water.  Once I learned to "half-breathe", it all started to fall into place.

I'm no speed demon, but I was surprised at how quickly I can get down the pool now that I have the basic stroke down.  Feels pretty good, actually.  Now, I can really start to train for this portion of the triathlon, working on refining the mechanics and stretching my endurance.  

I still have a long way to go, but now I can really get started on the journey.

A long-expected day

Yesterday, I watched with pride as my son Matthew finally got to experience a day he has anticipated for the better part of three years.  In the second half of his first soccer game of the season, my son pulled on a keeper's jersey, put on his gloves, and played his first game as a goalkeeper.

As I said earlier, he has wanted this for years.  He fell in love with the defensive aspects of soccer as soon as he was old enough to appreciate the game.  However, the recreational soccer organization in our city does not use GK's until the boys reach the U9 stage.  For awhile now, my son has played sweeper, and has been the last line of defense for his team despite the fact that he could not use his hands.    In the last couple of years, the team has played on a much larger field, with a 6'x12' goal... and no keeper.  We have seen **a lot*** of goals scored from the midline or worse.

And so, I've watched him as he tried to defend this huge goal without being able to use his hands.

That changed yesterday, and it was a joy to see one of my sons get to fulfill a dream.  Granted, he's young, and it's not quite the equivalent of starting in goal for ManU, but it's still his dream.. and he had waited almost half his lifetime to see it realized.

In order to make his debut the best we could for him, we sent him to a top-notch goalkeeping camp this summer, and have arranged for him to get keeper training from specialized coaches throughout the season.  He threw himself into the training with gusto, and it showed as he stepped into his goal.   He walked like a keeper, stalked like a keeper, and played like a keeper.  He had just a touch of that attitude-- "this is MY goal, and you stay out".

And he played very well in his debut.  He allowed three goals, but saved many more, proving to be quite fearless the whole time.  After only one game, his teammates dubbed him "Brick Wall".  Even the opposing coach, whose team is one of the best in the whole association, took time in the congratulatory handshake line to compliment him on his play.

Needless to say, I was brimming with pride.  But even more than pride... I was filled with satisfaction.  Pride comes hand-in-hand with the dangerous train of thought that I am watching, in my son, the future keeper for the US national team, or maybe Chelsea or Real Madrid, etc, etc.

But the satisfaction was for him, and the joy I could tell that he was feeling.  My son realized a dream yesterday, and it was everything he had ever hoped it would be, and he had fun doing it... and it showed.

It doesn't get much better than that for a Dad!

Michael Phelps I'm not....

About a month ago, I decided that just losing weight and getting into better shape was no longer good enough.   In a moment of contemplation and thinking about my personal goals and life-dreams, I had a temporary lapse of sanity and decided that I was going to train for a...... triathlon.

Yes, you read right.  A triathlon.

Now, before you go off looking for a burial plot for me, understand that I have no pretensions about doing an "Ironman".  That is the one that most people think of when they think "triathlon".   2.25 mile swim, 113 mile bike ride, and 26 mile marathon.

I don't think so, scooter.

Nope, I'm shooting for a "sprint" triathlon, something a little more in the realm of us mere mortals.  1/2 mile swim, 13 mile bike ride, 3 mile run.  Much more doable.  Really.  Surely.   Just...... too bad the swimming comes first!   Ah, swimming- that glorious realm of the "I could swim to save my life if I needed to, but I don't really want to admit that if I fell off a boat, I would probably freak and drown in plain site of the life ring floating next to my head"

The swimming is the only portion of the triathlon that gives me the sweats.  The portion that sometimes makes me think-- "what on earth am I doing?!?"   I can ride a bicycle.  I may come in last over 13 miles, but I know how to ride a bike.  I can run... and if I'm tired, I can walk.  Been doing that for 38-some odd years or so.  But swimming-- ah, therein lies the rub.

And so... now I'm training to be a competitive swimmer.  Now I need to get ready for an 800m swim.  That's 8 laps in an Olympic-length pool.   16 laps at the pool in the 24-hour Fitness gym I frequent.  And I have found out that competitive swimming is HARD.  15 minutes in the pool is far more exhausting than 45 on the treadmill.  Hands down.

My coach (my beautiful wife, a former Water Safety Instructor), is teaching me, helping me develop a better crawl technique.   My previous crawl (read:  flopping thrash) would be the equivalent of a Picasso... all the parts are in unexpected places.  So now,I'm trying to work on bettering 15 million parts of a swimming crawl stroke, and put them all together sometime soon enough to actually start swimming using this new-fangled crawl and build up my endurance for the triathlon.  Somewhat like this:

1. Head down
2. Left arm back, elbow tight to the body, rotating the upper torso.
3. Left elbow out of water, bent above line of spine and head.
4. Left arm enters the water, hand at an angle, directly on the centerline of my spine just in front of my head
5. Left hand turns slightly, catches the water, as I pull back.
6. Meanwhile, the right arm is already pulling back, elbow in, ready to come out of the water.
7. Oh yeah... I'm supposed to be kicking.  Divert mental resources to the legs, ah, there they go... they are moving again, participating in this madness rather than acting as a sea anchor
8. Right arm forward, centerline, catch....
9. Left arm back, elbow in, up, centerline, catch....
10. Right arm forward, centerline, catch....
11. Still kicking?  Yes, good!  I'm forgetting something... what the heck is it?  Oh yeah... I NEED TO BREATHE!
12. Ship a mouth full of water and stop the lap, gasping.....

Happens all too often, unfortunately....

sigh

I'll get there.  I've given myself a lot of time to do this, and I've got determination like you wouldn't believe.   This triathlon goal means a lot to me, maybe more than any goal I've ever set for myself.   And, if nothing else, I have a new found respect-- above and beyond what I already possessed-- for the men, women, boys, and girls who do this *swimming* thing for competition.

I may not be Michael Phelps, but suddenly he seems even a little bit more like a Swimming Superman.

Lessons from Six Flags

This past Saturday, my family and I went to Six Flags over Texas in Arlington.   Yes, for those of you familiar with an August day in Texas... we are insane.   Actually, the reality is that we try to live within our means, and we had some free tickets.   Normally, Six Flags is a significant expenditure for us, as a family of five.   Two of our boys are already over the 48" line, even though they are only 8 and 7, so they are full price.  If we just drove up to the park, and walked up to pay.... it would cost us about $250 US just to get in!   

However, on this day we had 3 free tickets thanks to their summer reading program, and we had to use them by August 9th.  So here we are on 9 August (naturally), getting our trip to Six Flags in before the tickets expired.   In 100 degree heat.  In August.  And the place is packed.   So what are the lessons from Six Flags?

First, all of this hard work I've been doing to lose weight and get in shape is paying off dividends when I least expect it.  Had I done this exact same outing last summer, I would have bonked by mid-afternoon, and would have been suffering.  I probably would not have left, so that my kids could continue to enjoy it, but I would have been miserable.

And I was not.  I did not hit my wall until after 9:00 PM, as we were wrapping up and heading home.   That was such a blessing to have the energy and stamina to enjoy this day with my family, no matter what the temperature.  On a further note... we were going out to our car to have our picnic lunch, and my wife and kids were sagging a little from hunger, so I offered to double-time it back to the car and have all the sandwiches and drinks ready when they got there.   My wife eagerly agreed  (of course!), and so I power-walked to the far end of the parking lot in the hottest part of the day, threw all the stuff from the Jeep into the shady tree area, and started making sandwiches.  As I sat there... I realized I wasn't even winded... and that felt really good :-)

On a totally different note.. I really want to know where my 8-yr old got his daredevil gene.  He just loves any activity that is dangerous... rock-climbing, roller coasters, you name it.. he wants to try it.

So what's the problem?   Well, Daddy is not really a roller coaster guy.  :-|  Never have been.  It's just not my thing.   As it turns out, one of the few top-notch roller coasters that Matthew can ride at Six Flags is.... the Texas Giant.   Yes, he's too short for the Titan and the Batman and the Mr. Freeze, etc.  But he's tall enough for the Texas Giant.

And of course... he wants to ride it.  You can tell it's the highlight of his day at Six Flags.   Mommy has ridden it before and refuses to do so again.  He's too young to stand in line and ride it by himself.  And he's looking at me with those big brown eyes, and paternal pride is on the line.

All I can say is... thank goodness for martial-arts-style mental focusing techniques.  Whoever designed that roller coaster needs to be institutionalized.  Or tarred and feathered, then deported.  Excommunicated.   Something.   Because he is one sick, sadistic, warped person  :-D

But I did it.  I guess that makes me a hero in Matthew's eyes, at least for one day.  I could see it, and he was so happy that he got to ride it.  The things we fathers do for our children!

Random thoughts for the day:
1.  Watching Olympics until after midnight combined with getting up at 0445 to go to the gym combined with being 40 years old?  That's some bad juju, very bad juju.
2.  I have my permanent call sign from the FCC now!  My amateur radio operating license is KA5RWW.  Now I just need to scrape up enough money for a radio :(
3.  Went to put my sunglasses up in the holder in the van this morning, and they came apart in my hands.  Somehow the frame broke right above the bridge.  Bummer.   I only wear cheap sunglasses (I am too rough on them), but I had really liked this pair, and they had lasted 6 months or so.  Oh well.

I think we must be doing something right....

Last night I did one of my favorite activities as a father.  I got home from work, and sat down in my recliner with my canvas library bag.  My boys came running up, full of excitement, as I began to dole out the books and audio book cd's they had 'ordered' with me a few nights before.    Daddy had helped them search for books they wanted, and we put them on hold.   They were so excited to get their books... within minutes they were curled up on the couch or some other place to sit, reading their books.

My wife and I must be doing at least one thing right.  I'm raising a passel of boys who are readers in a non-reading age.  Rene Descartes once said "Reading good booksis like having a conversation with the most distinguished men of past ages".    Literature is a powerful thread that bonds humans throughout the centuries.  It is a unique gift from our Father creator, with the greatest example of literature provided by Him.

I despair at times to see how reading is being put aside by so many in this day and age.  Despite being a technologically savvy person myself, I believe that the reading of good books and literature teaches us things in a much deeper way than video bites or interactive learning systems.  It is the way we are wired-- if do the hard work (yes, it is often hard work to read something substantial), it will enrich you like no other form of learning.

There was once an episode of the original Star Trek, where a lawyer who is defending James Kirk against a murder charge is shown to be one of the few remaining people who still likes books... their feel, their look, and most importantly, their contents.   If I were a Star Trek character...that would probably be me :)

Is the world headed down a path where future generations will not be readers of anything deeper than a milk saucer?  I don't know.  What I do know is, that like many aspects of life, the most direct impact I can have is on my oikos, my immediate area of influence.

And in that area, there are 3 little boys who rush up to Daddy to get their books from the library.  At that moment, all is right with the world.

Random thoughts:
1.  Gentlemen:  when you have a beautiful wife to whom you are unfailingly faithful, and you do enough for her to keep her happy and keep her emotional tank full.... and she has the sort of personality where she will then take care of your needs.... it doesn't get much better than that.  Seriously.  Free lesson for the day.
2.  I just can't seem to learn.    My personal trainer:  "We're done for today, unless you think you can do a third set"   Me:  "Sure, I could do a third set".    Stupid, stupid, stupid
3.  Today, I found one benefit of being 40...  turns out my personal trainer should have been using a different chart for my body fat calculations since I was so close to (and just turned now) 40.  So, this morning I magically lost another 2% just like that.   That was cool!

This is surreal

In order for this post to make any sense, you must understand one thing... I am the world's hottest-natured person.  I can't stand heat.  It drives me up the wall, makes me buggy... just ask my family.  When the temperatures climb into the triple digits here in Texas, I just come home from work, take a cold shower, and hide in the dark bedroom in front of a roaring fan for the entire evening.   I don't do heat.

So, we're in the middle of this heat wave in Texas-- one that has me, once again, contemplating moving to another part of the US.  It's been 11 straight days of over 100 degree temps.  We canceled a trip to Six Flags last weekend because the high was supposed to be 107 degrees, with a heat index of 112!

And what am I wearing in my cubicle at work?   A HOODIE!  They have the air conditioning running so high in this portion of the building that we are all just freezing!   I work in a large room that was made of out converted cubicle space.  In other words, this area was not originally designed as an enclosed room, and the A/C has never been "redesigned" for the change.   So, in order to make it remotely hospitable for other cubicle denizens, some of whom are yards and yards and yards (meters and meters and meters) away.... our room is turned into a reefer, a meat locker, a WALK-IN REFRIGERATOR.

It's surreal.  I am normally the last person to complain about a nice, cool room, but this is too much.  It's 102 degrees outside right now, and I'm drinking hot tea and shivering in my light wool hoodie.  And, in a little over 3 hours, I will walk out into an absolute oven to climb in my overbaked coche, to drive home in heat so oppressive that it starts to put me to sleep during the drive..

I tell ya... a guy can't win for losing.   Oh, to have a sailboat and go cruising with my beautiful wife, leaving work and cares behind...... someday!

If you ever get the chance... don't

Helpful hint to every Net denizen who happens upon this...... I have decided that it is not entirely sane to tell one's personal trainer the following: "I seem to have hit a plateau". I personally think that mine decided that "oh you have, have you? We'll just see about that!".

Ergo, I struggle to walk this fine day. Brother. I want to go lie down and sleep for a couple of hours.

My personal trainer is just a little sprite of a thing. Nice as can be. And mean as all-git-out on the inside.  I told her today I was going to pop her with my towel!

Seriously, I was in need of the next level of workouts.  As I continue to train and better my temple, it has been really helpful to have a professional show me the way.  The hard work, the determination to get up at 0430 every morning, and the endurance to keep going and not slack off as I have so many times.... those come from me and me alone.   But my trainer helps me by showing me how to exercise so that my physique is well-rounded and I minimize the chance for injury.

If you are trying to make a change like this in your life, and you have the means, I highly recommend that you contract with a trainer to show you the way.  As I have mentioned in a previous post, I got inspired by a one-armed Mt. Everest climber... and for my own personal quest, my trainer is my 'sherpa'.


Random thoughts for today:
1.  Pudge Rodriguez is a Yankee now.  Yuck.  I hate the Yankees.  I like Rodriguez.  Why do so many ex-Rangers go on to great things in their careers, whilst the home team still struggles to figure out that pitching is a crucial element in winning baseball?!?
2.  Did you know that an MRI of the knee looks a lot like a pork chop?

The human psyche is a wonderfully strange thing...

Today I did something that any reasonable person would consider benign and innocuous.  I switched my "home library"!   Allow me to explain:  I am a frequent patron of the one of the local library systems, and as one might easily guess, I use their internet-based features quite frequently.    The internet tools they provide allow me the ability to manage the items I have checked out, search for new items, and have them placed on hold under my name.   Then I simply walk in to the "holds" area, which is conveniently located near the front, pull my items, and I'm checked out in minutes.

Part of the process requires you to select a "home library"  It;s the branch where all your holds will be sent for pickup.  For the last 2-3 years, I have been "homed" out of one particular branch that is located along a major freeway of my commute.  Now that I work at a different place, and I recently decided not to use that freeway anymore to avoid the toll fees, I decided that another branch of the library would be slightly more convenient... so today I asked a librarian to change my "home library".

Benign and innocuous.  One could hardly think of something more definitive of those terms.  The phrase "no big deal" comes to mind.

So, why did a feel a small twinge of guilt as I made this change?  Make no mistake, it was by no means a crippling sense of guilt, but an honest self-examination proved it to be extant nonetheless.    Granted, we are creatures of habit, and I had been patronizing this one particular branch for several years.. sometimes stopping by multiple times per week on the way home.   I recognized most of the library staff, and I like to think that some of them knew me as well-- especially after waltzing into the library in my full motorcycle gear a few times!

I've never lived in a real urban environment, but I imagine that the change I made today would be like changing hot dog vendors or newsstands in New York or D.C.  In my own little way, I had built a brand loyalty with this particular branch and some of its librarians, and I felt a little guilty abandoning them on the altar of convenience (or to the extortion of $4.00 gasoline!)

In the grand scheme of things, this was certainly nothing to get one's knickers in a knot over... but I was fascinated that such a simple thing could cause such feelings.   The human psyche is a wonderfully complicated and mysterious thing....

The mysterious handprint

As I returned from lunch today, I looked up while riding the elevator and noticed a perfect handprint on the stainless steel just above the inside of the elevator door.  It was so clear I could almost make out the whorls in the fingerprints. 

Stuff like this fascinates me-- whose handprint is that?  Why was their hand there?  It wasn't in a spot likely to be touched, not even by a repairman;  nor would it have been a likely spot for the disfiguration-defying practice of sticking one's hand in to keep the doors from closing.

So... why was the print there?   Was it some sports-enthused male with a teenager's mindset, (which sounds somewhat like me!) reaching up to slap the door on the way out, like an imaginary backboard?  Was it a repairman reaching up to brace himself while working on some other part of the elevator?   Or was it someone bracing themselves while having a quickie with a co-worker?  (It would have to be quick, as there are only 3 floors!).

Sadly, I will never know.  Like the footprints in the sand from Longfellow's The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls, this traveller will pass on and with the next swipe of Windex the handprint will be lost forever.....

Kids sure do grow up fast

Lately I have been struck by how much older Matthew (our 8-yr old son) looks.  Despite a real difference of only 15 months, he seems much older than his brother Logan.  I watch Matthew when he goes to the rock climbing gym, or as he plays soccer, or as he plays videogames... and I am struck by how he carries himself.

 
There is less and less of the awkwardness that often accompanies the post-toddler years.  He moves like a cat, and looks like a miniature teenager. (Now there's a frightening thought-- Dear God, he's only 8!)  I watch him with a mixture of pride, and wistfulness.  Wistfulness for youth in its own right, and for the speed with which time is passing, carrying my precious son towards manhood....

I'm addicted....

To working out. I've been going to the gym every day now for weeks. 3 days of weight training and 4 days of core strengthening exercises and cardio work.

At the end of last year, my previous employer brought in a motivational speaker at a company meeting. The speaker's name was Gary Guller, the only one-armed man to ever climb Mt. Everest all the way to the North Summit. After listening to Gary speak, I did some research on climbing Mt. Everest, and got a better grasp of the unique challenges he faced (namely: the Hillary Step), and the thought struck me that I had no more excuses for my overweight, out-of-shape physical condition.

You can find out more about Gary and Team Everest here:  Gary Guller  and Team Everest '03

I hung up the Team Everest poster in my office, and included a sign underneath it saying that "If a one-armed man could take a team of quadriplegics and persons with other disabilities to Everest base camp, and then climb to the north summit, then I could lose 60 lbs in 2008".

So I started.  I started doing cardio work on the treadmill, changed my diet  significantly to a doable and reasonable plan suggested by Men's Health  (Belly off!), and went and had a full physical from my doc.

My resolve was only further strengthened by the death of my mom in February, at only age 63.  She died way too early for modern times, primarily because she didn't take care of herself.

So I got even more serious.  After changing jobs and losing access to the little free gym I was using... I bit the bullet and joined a top-notch gym.  And then, after mucho discussions with my wife, we actually budgeted the money for a personal trainer.  (Due to my Everest inspirations, I call my trainer my "sherpa" )

Now, I'm working out 7 times a week.  It's a lot of hard work, but I have more energy to expend throughout the day, my clothes are fitting better, and I've lost around 25 lbs and over 5% body fat so far.

There's a long way to go, and it takes a lot of commitment, but I really feel like I've gotten over the commitment hump.  Indeed... I'm addicted to feeling better about myself :)

7 miles of uncrossable distance

For those of you who recognize the significance of the "title" of this LJ page... this post falls under that category.

In fact, many of the posts in this blog will probably have some tie-in the quote that is attributed to Einstein (but not confirmed as his!).. which is one of the reasons I chose it as a title.  :D    (I wanted to use the "people are like slinkys" one... but decided against it.)

Anyhoo, what is it about some business owners that just don't get it?  The other day I was getting a quote from a maid service for a one-time cleaning of our house.  I wanted to surprise my wife by having some of the more cleaning-intensive areas of the house done by a pro while my wife was away at a church retreat.

So, with coupon in hand, I contact the company, and begin discussions.  Finally, at some point, I am told that my little town is not in their cleaning area, and they probably won't be able to help me.   Now understand, they do service the town just south of mine... only 7 miles from my house to Main street in that town.

7 miles.   Even my gas-guzzling SUV will do that on less than a half-gallon of gas  (at current local prices... call it $1.50).    Heck, they can get from any point in the next town to my house on less than 1 gallon.   So I told the lady I'd be willing to pay $5 or so for that extra gallon of gas.  Seemed reasonable to me.    Since the only difference between my house and one in the serviced town was about one gallon of gas and 5 minutes or so of driving, I figured we could wrangle a deal.

Boy, was I mistaken.  The lady told me she'd have to talk to the owner, and call me back the next day.  Call me back she did, and told me that they would only come to my house if I bought a cleaning package over twice as expensive as what I was planning.  That was the only way they could "justify" the extra distance!

Justify?   I was willing to assuage their increased cost directly, and they want to dig me for $70 more just to come 7 miles?

That business person threw away perfectly good money.  It made absolutely no business sense to refuse my business when I was offering to offset the only business cost that differentiated me from a customer who would have been able to acquire their services based on their more southerly location.

Sometimes you gotta wonder about the Universe.

Somebody picked a style for this site, so where are the posts?

Hello everyone!   Welcome to my page, although there won't be much for most of you to see-- and I felt like I ought to explain that a bit.

I am by nature a very private person.  Ergo, posting my journal entries online for anyone to read would be somewhat equivalent to having my toenails ripped out by razor-toothed MC Escher worm/caterpillars while being subjected to the Muzak version of  "It's a small world after all"

In other words... it ain't happening.  My posts, be they random rants or my more deliberative writing attempts, will be marked as "Friends only", or "Me only"... almost without exception.

Therefore, if you happen to be someone who wanders through the lovely neighborhood of LiveJournal, browsing the windows of the various shops whilst imaging you're Harry Potter gazing in awe at Diagon Alley.... to you I offer my sincerest apologies for the magical wards placed on the entrance to this shop.    (They were placed with the help of a beautiful Aes Sedai, one that I actually happen to trust).   You can trust that I am pottering around in here, looking at the dusty shelves and numerous books, filling a pipe with sweet smelling tobacco that is never and will never be lit... and occasionally picking up a quill and writing a few words 'concerning Hobbits'.

I do hope you will understand.   I wish you a happy journey on this 'Net and that dangerous, scary place called The Real World.

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

But not this day!

Some time ago, I kind of got convicted about doing too much hard work on Sundays. This arose out of my reading the Old Testament, and the commands therein for resting on the seventh day and all. I realized that God did kind of know what he was talking about... we need rest, and to not drive ourselves into the ground all seven days of the week.

So, I told my wife that I was going to start taking it easier on Sundays. Light work around the house as needed to keep the ship running, but no major projects or hard work.

Well, as Aragorn said to the Men of Gondor before the gates of Mordor (in the movie).... But not THIS day!

There was just too much going on right now, and I have to do some of these things around the yard before the weeds and such take over and start ordering pizza on my debit card. They've invited enough friends over as it is! The day was only complicated by the need to utilize a neighbor and his truck to go pick up our new barbeque grill at the hardware store. The grill, when assembled, will not fit in the back of our van even with the seat removed, and this was the only day I could mooch off on someone else's pickup.

So, I fell into bed exhausted last night. Which only further proves that God really did have a good idea. Sundays should not be filled like this :(

how hard can it be to make a decent hose reel?

What is it with me and garden hose reels?  It seems completely out of the realm of possibility for me to find a decent reel that works right, doesn't tip over, and won't leak, no matter how much I spend.  These things have become my own personal yard work albatross.   I hate the things... utterly despise them.

I have to take this new one back to the Giganto Hardware store tomorrow.  It's by far the most expensive one I've tried, under the obviously mistaken concept that by spending a bit more, it might actually garner me one of relatively decent quality.  And, upon the first usage of said hose reel, the thing leaks at the connection of the feeder hose from the faucet.

Sigh.

And yes, the washer is in place.  The problem is the cheap PVC fittings these things use.  I'm just going to have to break down and buy the outrageously expensive reels that are made of all steel parts.    I'm tired of fighting these stupid things.   And, due to the size of the yard (and thus the amount of hose needed for yard tasks), just using a simple wall hose holder or coiling it on the ground is not an option.

Yard work is not my favorite thing in the world anyway.  The only part of it that I really like is my roses.  I enjoy growing and taking care of those. 

But you can have the rest of it.  It takes hours and hours and it never stops.  And could I at least get a blinkin' hose reel that works worth a dang?

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