Shallow Thinker

Yes, I know that I haven’t blogged in a bit.  It’s not from a lack of ideas, it’s from a lack of time.  And because I’m a slacker.  Either way, I have a few things in the works.  Here are the teasers for when I have time:

• A check to see where I am vs. my resolution(s) from last year.  If you want a challenge, you can guess how much I actually weigh now.
• A look forward to this year.  What do I want to achieve?  How many jobs do I expect to get fired from?  Again, feel free to use the comments section for suggestions.
• A review of how much I get to play with baby dolls and barbies now that I have two girls.  At least they let me keep a little train set and some legos.
• I’m sure that once classes start back on the 14th, I’ll have the need to write a bunch of posts about how much school stinks.
• I’ll also write about how I should probably go and get a PhD.  (And this is where I expect Kelley to hurl something at her computer.)
• My friend, Lance, killed somebody on New Year’s Eve, but I was too busy trying to be a rock star to care.

So, there’s my list.  If you have any requests, like a funny story about meat consumption, feel free to let me know!

My parents got the newspaper every Sunday when I was growing up.  After church, I would read the comics, then look through all of the sales papers, and if complete boredom still reigned, I would skim through the headlines of the paper.  I always skipped the sports and the fashion sections.  World news got a brief glance, but most of my attention would be devoted to the “Living” section.  I don’t know why it was called this, but it was a hodge-podge of random articles that didn’t fit anywhere else.

One Sunday, I think I was in ninth grade, things must have been really slow because I started actually reading some of the articles.  I read for a while and then hit one that was amazing.  The writing style was perfect.  The humor was amazing.  After I finished, I showed it to my dad and he said “Oh, that’s Dave Barry.  He has an article every Sunday.”  I was hooked.  I even tried writing a few reports in the same style.  (Looking back, I realize that it wasn’t a good idea.  The grade I received helped me reach that conclusion.)

For the rest of my high school days, I read Barry’s columns.  In college, I was fortunate to find his column printed on-line through the Miami Herald.  At my first job, my Monday morning ritual included reading the column from the day before.  (See, my ability to not work has been with me for a long time.) But, all good things must come to an end and Dave decided to leave my Mondays dry and bare.  He now returns with an article that recaps the happenings of each year.  That’s it….just once a year.  And now is that time.  I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do.  Or at a minimum, maybe your company’s internet filter lets it through like mine does.

http://www.miamiherald.com/living/columnists/dave-barry/story/1397654.html

For those who see this feed on facebook, you may already know about Virus Ham.  For the other 1.4 of my readers that see the blog, I will spin you a tale of sickness and family.  Grab the edge of your desk because you may just fall out of your seat.  It’s that riveting.  Or maybe it’s long enough to put you to sleep.  Either way…

We traveled around a bit during the holidays.  One of the fun events for my wife’s side of the family was jammed into the visit that we had with my parents.  On Saturday, we left my parents’ house in the afternoon and drove about an hour to Kelley’s uncle’s house.  When we arrived, we greeted her aunt, greeted a few other party guests, and then released our girls to run about with Kelley’s wonderfully-sweet cousin.  After a little while, I noticed that her other two cousins weren’t around.  I used my keen communication skills to ask “Hey, where are the other two?” The response started a wave of amazingly-awkward, hushed conversations around the house.

“They’re sick.”

Apparently both had come down with a stomach bug earlier in the day.  Oh great.  There’s a stomach bug going around.  But at least the sick ones were quarantined.  Right?  About 15 minutes later, Kelley’s uncle got sick.  The same uncle that we all shook hands with and had been talking to earlier.  Oh boy.  Her aunt had spent all afternoon preparing a wonderful spread.  What should we do?

While I was piling my plate high with food, I reasoned to everyone that if we were going to get the virus, we probably already had it.  Kelley noted that having a stomach virus would help negate some of the bad eating that we had been doing.  While there was a slight uneasiness during the meal, I think that most of the family understood that we were all doomed.  Kelley’s dad noted that it would be better to be sick on a full stomach so that we didn’t get the dry heaves.  I was instructed by my wife that I should not compliment her aunt by saying “This food is excellent.  You can’t even taste the virus!”  (She doesn’t ever let me have any fun.)

We returned to my parents’ house for another night of sleep.  The next day, we were still fine and were rationalizing that maybe we were OK after all.  I even helped prepare some of the ham for lunch.  And then we got a call.  Kelley’s aunt had gotten sick after we left.  The same aunt that prepared all the food.  We’ve got everything that she’s got.  Like any good son would do, I informed my parents of the change in situation.  My dad had the nerve to accuse me that I was making it all up just so I could take home some of my mom’s ham.  I told him that it was all true and that it was up to him if he ate the Virus Ham* or not.  I also informed my mom that I would be more than willing to remove the offending food from her house.  Because I’m a good son.  Since I got my approach to food from my dad I knew that he wasn’t going to give up on it that easy.  So, for lunch we all ate virus ham.

I am happy to report that it has been more that 48 hours since we ate with the sick ones and we have shown no signs of sickness.  After hearing more from Kelley’s family, it’s starting to sound like they had some bad food the day before we arrived.  Yay food poisoning!  I’m also happy to report that I have a pile of Virus Ham that my mom sent home with me.  And no, you can’t have any.  Get your own sickness-laden meat.

*Virus Ham is a trademarked name and can only be used with the expressed, written consent of me.  Or if you can use it to get a laugh.  Or if you’re bored and need a conversation starter.  Or if you have a sad enough life to want to use a term that I created.

I’ll be the first to admit I was probably somewhat sheltered during my childhood.  My favorite restaurant was Captain D’s  (still a guilty pleasure on occasion) and my favorite snack was Slim Jims (I got a whole tube of them one birthday).  Life was simple…and it was good.

During those formative days, my introductions into comedy were Ray Stevens and Jerry Clower.  While both were successful mostly in the South, they did see a small amount of nationwide notoriety.  Stevens took off-the-wall concepts, put them to music, and turned them into cash.  Clower, on the other hand, was a master storyteller, well steeped in the traditions of church-going southerners.  Of course, the local radio stations no longer feature these gentlemen and the XM comedy stations carry people who weren’t alive when these guys were in their prime.

On the way home this past Friday, I heard a tune that sounded familiar.  As I listened, I noticed that I even knew some of the the words.  Eventually, my brain worked through some of the filing cabinets and recognized the song as one of Ray Stevens’ hits from years gone by.  But the display on my radio was wrong.  It said “Cledus T. Judd.”  What?  Judd does these stupid parody songs that force me to search the dial for an infomercial just to have an upgrade.  I listened a bit more to the song and couldn’t figure out which voice was singing, but it just didn’t sound right.  On my way to work this morning, it happened again.  A diferent Stevens hit being attributed to “Cledus T. Judd.”  This time, I could tell that the voice wasn’t right.  What in the heck is going on?

I came to my desk and did some intense Google searching to find that Judd has actually released a “tribute” CD of Stevens’ songs.  And you know what’s worse than that?  The radio station plays them!  WHY?!  Judd adds absolutely no value to these old classics.  As a matter of fact, his over-the-top hick accent makes me want to bash my radio.  Why not just play Ray’s versions of these songs?  You don’t mess with the classics!  And you kids get off my lawn!

I just don’t know if I can allow my girls to grow up in a place where this sort of thing happens.  The next thing you know, some smooth singing young fella will come along and try to redo the standards of Sinatra.  And you know what…he’ll fail miserably.

You can check my blog archives, but I don’t think that I’ve ever complained about graduate school before.  (No need to actually check.  Here are the links to my school complaints - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 & 7)  So, since I’m such a good sport about this school thing, perhaps you’ll indulge me a moment to complain.

This semester came to a close last night as I took a final exam.  I’ve never been one of those to take the full amount of time allotted for an exam.  I’m usually one of the first ones to walk-out, as a matter of fact.  It’s not because I’m smart or super-fast, it’s just my approach to exams.  I figure that I know the material or I don’t.  So, I put down what I know, fake what I don’t and move on.  For this exam, though, almost everyone was in the classroom for the duration. I allotted myself 30 minutes for each problem (5 total) and figured that I’d have nothing to do for the last 30 but maybe verify a couple of steps.  Nope.  I spent the entire time crunching numbers.  This wasn’t an exam in investment analysis.  It was an exam in using calculators.  I made so many calculations and wrote so much that one of my mechanical pencils broke.  One of the test problems had an entire page of text to read through just to find the six or seven numbers pertinent to the problem.  The professor insisted that this “case study” was a real life application of what we’ve learned.  Yeah?  Well, in real life, I’m not limited to three hours and I have a paycheck waiting when I’m done.  So I deem your problem silly and trivial….but I’ll still do it.

At any rate, the semester is over and I can catch my breath before diving back into a new semester in January.  The holidays now seem a little cheerier and my evenings are a bit more free.  I don’t have a care in the world!  Well, except for the fact that I have a compulsive need to check the school website every half hour to see if my grades have been posted yet.  I’ve already checked three times while writing this post.  If his final were really so important, you’d think that he’d have the grades posted by now.  Jerk.

UPDATE: Behold the power of my writing!  An hour after posting this the professor posted our grades.  I was joking about it, but this is the first time I’ve had a class where we took a final and less than 24 hours later, the grades were posted.  Now pardon me while I find something else to complain about.

Some of you may not be aware, but I am not a doctor.  Surprising, right?  Well, sure, I look like one of those hunks that would play a doctor on TV, but in reality, I’m just an engineer.  Heck, in my last post, I think I even mentioned some of my horrible medical advice to myself.  But, with my lack of medical degree comes a lack of medical knowledge.  Over the past few years, I have developed a few theories regarding my physical well being.  Apparently, my doctor decided to burst a few of those bubbles.  Here are a couple of harsh realities that I have had to face this week.

Theory #1 - My muscles are growing, so should my clothes.
Around March of last year, I hit a low of around 168 pounds.  I knew that there was no way that I could sustain the cardio burn that I had been undergoing, so I decided to exercise in a manner such that when I put weight back on, it would be muscle.  Slowly, I added weight on, and I’m sure that some of it was muscle.  I’m now up to 190 and I’ve even gone up a size in my pants.  I reasoned it that since I was putting on muscle, the expansion was warranted.  Well, apparently my doctor didn’t get the memo.  He said that no matter how much muscle I put on, my waist should remain the same size.  But I’ve really been working out those key waist muscles.  Nope, he wouldn’t buy it.  Dang.

Theory #2 - Boy, this is a healthy breakfast!
I like to eat a hearty breakfast.  A grapefruit and a cup of cereal won’t do anything but make me mad.  I need some sustenance to my grub!  I had cooked a big batch of party potatoes (woo-hoo!) for Thanksgiving, but forgot them at home instead of taking them to my parents house.  So, for breakfast all week leading up to the doctor’s visit, I ate the potatoes, topped with a bit of ham and cheese.  I thought “Hey, this is a hearty breakfast and it’s not all that bad for me.  I sure am a smart fella!”

Once again, the doctor did not receive the memo.  Apparently I had some slightly high cholesterol numbers last year.  So, as we’re talking this time around, the doctor tells me that my exercise will have affected my cholesterol, but the biggest factor is my diet.  And stay away from potatoes.  “WHAT?!  I thought potatoes were a good choice!”  Nay, they are a poor choice.  Something about starches and sugars and blah, blah blah.  For the week leading up to getting my numbers checked, I had been eating the exact thing that would sabotage my progress.  Awesome.  My test results are apparently in the mail to me, so I should see those today or tomorrow and know how horrible of a person I am.

UPDATE: Kelley just called with the results.  Even with the Great Potato Fiasco of ‘09, my bad cholesterol dropped 10 points.  I’ll take it!

Theory #3 - I can run a 5K.  I must be a stud!
Again, the doctor missed the memo on how awesome I am. I told him that I had been doing cardio at least twice a week with most of it being running on the road. He asked how far and I mentioned that I run a 5K as my normal distance and every once and a while, I’ll do a 10K. He looked up at me and said, “Well, once your leg heals, you really need to start increasing your distance.” WHAT?! Increase my distance? It is increased! There are 5K’s. Sometimes 10 of ‘em! Not good enough. He said that if it hurts too much, a gradual increase of 10% per month would be sufficient to start out.

You know, I’m beginning to think that this guy will never be satisfied.  I mean, look at all that I’ve done in the past year.  I lost 15 pounds and managed to gain all of it back, plus a few extra.  You’d think that he would be in awe of my physical prowess.  You’d be wrong on that theory, too.

I’m one of the few people that enjoys working out.  I think that weight training is a great stress reliever and running is an easy way to challenge myself and measure my improvements.  Well, the running part was true up until September.  Around the middle of the month, I started having some pain in my right leg as I ran and a few days after.  I diagnosed myself as having tendinitis, iced the area, and ran some more.  Still pain.  So, I stretched and stretched and stretched, ran some more.  Pain.

With my illustrious medical background (my grandfather was a doctor), I decided to take a little time off from running.  This week, I went back out on the road.  No good.  Still pain.  So, while I was at the doctor for my yearly physical, I mentioned the issue.  Turns up that I’m a lousy self-diagnoser.  The issue isn’t with the muscles in my leg, it is the bone.  I apparently have a small stress fracture or two in my leg.  The most likely cause is the pounding that occurs when running on pavement.  Apparently this is a common injury that can be prevented by using expensive, soft shoes when on the road and by running on a softer surface when possible.  But prevention is out of the question.  What’s the solution?  Stop running for a while.

Now I need to find a good cardio workout that doesn’t involve hopping around (like aerobics) or running.  One option is the elliptical machine at the gym, but I feel like such a soccer mom doing that.  Another option is to take up biking…but this one presents another small issue.  See, long ago, I really thought that biking would be a great exercise for me.  So, I bought a bike, hung it in my garage, and left it there until I sold it about a year ago.  So now I’d have to go to my purchasing department and request another bike.  I don’t think that will go over well.

Boy, this staying in shape stuff is difficult and expensive.  I’m beginning to see the benefits of sitting on the couch.

Sometimes I just don’t understand professors.  Sure, a part of it is their willingness to teach our future for such small wages.  If I were in their position, I’d completely abuse that power.  “Listen, lady.  If you want your kid to grow up and learn to do things right, it’ll be another 50 grand.  Otherwise, I teach young Johnny how to cook the books and he’ll wind up in the slammer with all who have gone on before.  It’s your choice.”

The other part of my puzzlement comes from some of the things they do.  Our example comes from this semester’s experience.  I have two classes.  One deals with financial stuff that I hope to avoid for the rest of my life while the other works on my communication skills.  The financial class has been brutal.  The pace, the content, and the workload have been much higher than anything that I have experienced thus far in grad school.  Sure, I’d like to yell at the professor and remind him that we are students that have full-time jobs and families, but I’m sure he wouldn’t care.  But, the most troubling thing came when I looked at my course syllabus this past weekend.

I have been through 11 lectures and two exams.  Each lecture required 2-3 hours of homework and the exams required a good bit of studying.  So, with only one class and one exam left, you’d think that I’d have most of the grade figured out.  WRONG.  Over 50% of the course grade is still up for grabs!  Can you believe that?  All of the work that I’ve put in for the previous 15 weeks matters less than what I do in the next week-and-a-half?!

Usually, I’m able to hit the last couple of weeks with an easy stride, tie up a few loose ends, and then bid the semester farewell as it moseys into the sunset.  But this semester, I’m going to have to actually try.  What is with these professors?  I’d much rather learn how to cook the books.

Today, December 1, I walked into the Doctor’s office for my annual check-up.  I left feeling older than ever before.  Please allow me to share my sorrows.

Last week was Thanksgiving week.  I ate more food than I have in a long time.  And I only got in one workout all week.  I knew going into this appointment that my numbers may not be stellar.  I expected the weight to be a pound or two higher than normal and the cholesterol to be at a peak.  Surprisingly, though, my old, tired feeling did not come from what the doctor said, but what the young receptionist told me.

I signed the book and sat in the empty room waiting to be called back.  A tentative receptionist called to me.  “Mr. Land?”  I walked up to the window.  “We have you scheduled for your appointment on December 4.”  I looked the calendar on my phone.  Yep, December 4 is what I have, too.  Yet there I was, waiting to be checked on December 1.  Awesome.

They say the mind is the first thing to go.

Ladybug is now two-and-a-half years old.  She has had a cough for the past few days which has required some parental assistance during the middle of the night and early morning hours.  This morning, I got up with her and rocked her for a while before she decided that she was ready to go play.  Before the sun came up, we sat in the den playing with some toys on the floor.  It was in this tender moment that she let me know how much she appreciated my sacrifice.

Ladybug: “Daddy” (she says this with a grin and the sweetest little eyes)
Me: “Yes, dear?”
Ladybug: “You don’t smell very well.”
Me: “I know.”
Ladybug: “You go play in the other room.”

I’m always scared to tell about good things for the fear that they will be gone.  I tempted fate in March of last year by bragging how I had free XM radio in my car.  At that point, I had been enjoying 6 months of free XM radio.  Surely, I wouldn’t be so stupid to post something like that again and tempt the powers of XM…

I’m about to start month 26 of my 3 month trial of XM radio.  I have tried to not become accustomed to it because eventually they’ll flip the switch and I’ll have static.  But I can’t help it.  There’s just so much good music and comedy I’ve always got it on.  Heck, I don’t think that I’ve listened to my CD’s or Zune in the car for several months.

A few months ago, I discovered what might just be my favorite music channel.  The coffee house provides acoustic versions of songs from singers, songwriters, and even some acoustic covers of famous songs.  Granted, some stuff is boring, but for the most part, it’s an amazing listening experience.  About a week ago, I heard Adam Rafferty do an acoustic rendition of Stevie Wonder’s Superstition.  It’s a stunning version of one of my favorite songs. (The googles helped me find a clip on you tube that I’ve added at the bottom of the post.)

So, what’s the bottom line?  XM radio is some of the best money that I’ve never spent. If you ever get the chance to not pay for XM, I highly recommend that you choose to…not…pay. Otherwise, I suppose that you would be stuck where you are now which is to be not….paying…um….for not…listening. Ah, crap. Just watch the video.

Regular blog readers, please disregard this post as it is the only method I know to share some photos in full quality without jamming e-mail inboxes.  But feel free to browse, if you like.