You Suck.
Now don't take this personally if you are of those crazies that gets up at 4am and stands in line to get that cheap tv or dvd player or blender or whatever. Chances are that if you're reading this, I know you and love you and you don't suck. So calm down. Now, I could go on a long-winded rant about how commercialism has taken over Christmas and how we all have too much stuff and don't need anymore, but I won't. Actually, I can't. As I sit in my new house and look around at my 50 inch tv, satellite system, room full of toys for baby, and all the other crap I don't need, I'm really not one to talk. I don't list all those to impress you (you all know I have that stuff anyway), just to state my position.
Anyway, if you are one of these crazies that wakes up the day after an enormous dinner to "work it off" by shopping, you suck. (Again, not you, just you in general). You see, I had to work retail on this day 7 years in a row. Was it 8? I don't know - they've scarred me for life. Thankfully I didn't work at a mall or something serious might have happened (to you all, not me). No, I worked at a Circuit City those seven years (we'll call it seven - you know, for 'easyness' - yep I just made that up). I liked that job 11 months out of the year. But from the day after Thanksgiving through New Years, it was awful.
I don't really remember what time we opened. I'm sure it was 6 or 7am. I worked in customer service, so my main two jobs that day were either (a) handing people the stuff they bought that had to come out of the warehouse or (b) explaining to people that while they did pay for that vcr, we just don't have anymore, that while I do have a funny looking face, it doesn't really resemble a donkey's, and that it was physically impossible for me to go to hell at that moment (I usually had to work until 2 or 3 that day anyway).
The one good part of this day for retail workers is that it is so stinkin' busy that once the rush dies down, it's already around noon and almost time to go home.
I used to wonder "how did it get this way?" Did there used to a time when the day after Thanksgiving was just a regular day retail speaking? But does it really matter? It's that way now, and it was that way 10 years ago, and it's only going to get worse. That's why I've sworn off shopping on this day. At least in the stores at 6am. Online? fine. At 2pm? If I'm feeling up for it. But mostly it's just not worth it. I feel bad for all those retail workers who got up at 4am. So me, my hands, toes, and balls (what? they get cold) will all be home snug in my bed until the jolly hour of 6am this Friday. Yeah, I said 6am. I thought kids slept longer than that.
If you're in line waiting to enter Kohl's at 4am this Friday, shame on you. I hope the $20 you save is worth it. And get me a nice sweater.
Be nice to those people working retail. They hate having a line as much as you hate standing in it.
If you are offended by this post or are upset with me, I either (a) don't care or (b) am sorry. You pick.
Ramble On...
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Friday, October 5, 2007
So, do you keep your options open?
Holy Crap! I haven't posted since August 17? I must have been a busy bee :)
Let me tell you about a few interesting yet similar experiences I've had in the past six months or so. The first one happened while I was filling up my car at the nearby Shell station. The guy on the opposite pump from me comes over and starts off with the "Hey, how ya doin'" greeting. We exchange pleasantries (I'm nice) and the conversation is going along nicely. "You live around here?" "Yeah, Liberty Township." "Oh yeah? Me too." "Did you go to school around here?" "Yeah, Badin for high school and then Miami." "Really? My wife..." blah blah blah. This goes on for a few minutes until he drops "What kind of work do you do?" I told him. "Do you keep your options open?" So this guy is some kind of recruiter? Yeah, I keep my options open, I tell him. He's says "Great, let me get your name and number and I'll call you about some opportunities I have. " Apparently I'm a pretty trusting guy and I just hand this information right over. ("You want my social security number too?") "So are you some kind of recruiter or something?" I ask him. "No, I'm a " insert who-cares job here. My gas is done pumping at this point so I say goodbye and go home. Didn't think much of it.
So this guys calls a few days later. He tells me he and his business partners have agreed to let me join their little "operation" they have going. "What kind of business is it?" I ask. "Oh, I can't tell you over the phone. You'll have to meet me somewhere and I can tell you all about." My next response should have been CLICK (that's me hanging the phone up for those not "in the know"), but it wasn't. I politely explained that I wasn't interested and we left it at that.
Ok, weird experience, but I guess it could happen to anybody.
So, a couple months later, I'm at the same gas station filling up. The guy filling up next to me comes over and tells me I look like Andre Agassi. Ha ha, he shaves his head, I shave my head. This guy's funny. Partly from the fact that I really couldn't understand him and partly because I'm nice, I laugh and go back to watching the pounding my wallet is taking from Shell. He holds out his hand and tells his name. I shake back, tell him my name, say nice to meet you. "What kind of work do you do?" Here we go. I tell him. "Does your wife work too?" Yes. "Do you guys ever keep your options open?" CLICK. I kindly explain that with a baby, we don't really have time to get into anything right now. He understands (I think), we say goodbye, and he goes back to his car.
Twice in one year? Really? Ok, maybe.
So, a few weeks ago my wife, daughter, and I are walking into Babies 'R Us. A couple with twins walk by and the husband asks how old my daughter is. Now, this happens frequently when we are out, especially at kid-centered stores/events, generally because people are nice. So I tell him and we walk towards the store entrance. We exchange niceties and once we get inside, my wife gives them the "Well, have fun shopping" as she walks off. (How smooth is that?) So we walk off, as do they. I decide that while my wife is shopping for baby clothes (BORING), the baby and I are going exploring. Can you see what happens next? I run into this guy again. He's pushing his stroller, I'm pushing mine. He went to such-and-such college and does this-and-that for a living. He starts telling me how he invented some sort of whiteboard or something that schools are starting to use and that it's doing so well that his wife doesn't have to work anymore. That's great, I tell him. "So, do you guys ever keep your options open?"
That's right, sports fans, three times in six months. Do I have some sort of sign on my forehead welcoming these people? Is it flashing neon saying "I need to join a home-based scam...er...business". I try to be nice to whomever (whoever?) I meet, spreading joy to the world (quit laughing), but I'm starting to think I should just play 5-year-old and stay away from strangers. If there's a t-shirt out there saying "My options are closed", I'm buying two.
Ramble On...
Let me tell you about a few interesting yet similar experiences I've had in the past six months or so. The first one happened while I was filling up my car at the nearby Shell station. The guy on the opposite pump from me comes over and starts off with the "Hey, how ya doin'" greeting. We exchange pleasantries (I'm nice) and the conversation is going along nicely. "You live around here?" "Yeah, Liberty Township." "Oh yeah? Me too." "Did you go to school around here?" "Yeah, Badin for high school and then Miami." "Really? My wife..." blah blah blah. This goes on for a few minutes until he drops "What kind of work do you do?" I told him. "Do you keep your options open?" So this guy is some kind of recruiter? Yeah, I keep my options open, I tell him. He's says "Great, let me get your name and number and I'll call you about some opportunities I have. " Apparently I'm a pretty trusting guy and I just hand this information right over. ("You want my social security number too?") "So are you some kind of recruiter or something?" I ask him. "No, I'm a " insert who-cares job here. My gas is done pumping at this point so I say goodbye and go home. Didn't think much of it.
So this guys calls a few days later. He tells me he and his business partners have agreed to let me join their little "operation" they have going. "What kind of business is it?" I ask. "Oh, I can't tell you over the phone. You'll have to meet me somewhere and I can tell you all about." My next response should have been CLICK (that's me hanging the phone up for those not "in the know"), but it wasn't. I politely explained that I wasn't interested and we left it at that.
Ok, weird experience, but I guess it could happen to anybody.
So, a couple months later, I'm at the same gas station filling up. The guy filling up next to me comes over and tells me I look like Andre Agassi. Ha ha, he shaves his head, I shave my head. This guy's funny. Partly from the fact that I really couldn't understand him and partly because I'm nice, I laugh and go back to watching the pounding my wallet is taking from Shell. He holds out his hand and tells his name. I shake back, tell him my name, say nice to meet you. "What kind of work do you do?" Here we go. I tell him. "Does your wife work too?" Yes. "Do you guys ever keep your options open?" CLICK. I kindly explain that with a baby, we don't really have time to get into anything right now. He understands (I think), we say goodbye, and he goes back to his car.
Twice in one year? Really? Ok, maybe.
So, a few weeks ago my wife, daughter, and I are walking into Babies 'R Us. A couple with twins walk by and the husband asks how old my daughter is. Now, this happens frequently when we are out, especially at kid-centered stores/events, generally because people are nice. So I tell him and we walk towards the store entrance. We exchange niceties and once we get inside, my wife gives them the "Well, have fun shopping" as she walks off. (How smooth is that?) So we walk off, as do they. I decide that while my wife is shopping for baby clothes (BORING), the baby and I are going exploring. Can you see what happens next? I run into this guy again. He's pushing his stroller, I'm pushing mine. He went to such-and-such college and does this-and-that for a living. He starts telling me how he invented some sort of whiteboard or something that schools are starting to use and that it's doing so well that his wife doesn't have to work anymore. That's great, I tell him. "So, do you guys ever keep your options open?"
That's right, sports fans, three times in six months. Do I have some sort of sign on my forehead welcoming these people? Is it flashing neon saying "I need to join a home-based scam...er...business". I try to be nice to whomever (whoever?) I meet, spreading joy to the world (quit laughing), but I'm starting to think I should just play 5-year-old and stay away from strangers. If there's a t-shirt out there saying "My options are closed", I'm buying two.
Ramble On...
Friday, August 17, 2007
The Bronx
Well, I returned this week having spent 4 days in Bronx, NY with 12 youth and 17 other adults. What an amazing trip. It stands to reason that the purpose of going on a mission's trip is to go serve people who are less privileged than yourself, but it never fails that you get more blessed than you could possibly imagine.
Deciding to go on this trip was difficult for me. Not only because traveling is somewhat difficult with my food allergies, but also because of the one year old bundle of joy at home that needs her daddy. I talked it over with Andrea and she assured me that if I felt like I had to go, that she would be fine taking care of baby. Now, I knew she would be fine actually taking care of her, but to get her approval seemed liked the best route to go.
The trip started on Thursday. Early Thursday. Early, as in "I'll see you at church at 6am" early. We had an 11am flight in Columbus, so I was planning on leaving church by 7. To everyone's credit, they all arrived early and we were able to depart around 6:45. We were taking four vans to the airport, so I'm thinking we're in pretty good shape. That lasted for about 20 minutes. That's when we see the last van in our caravan pull off and exit the highway. Something must be wrong. We call. "Somethings wrong," they say. Great. The other vans pull off at the next exit and call again. "All my lug nuts were loose. We'll be back on the road in 5 minutes." So Lugnut (as the driver is henceforth referred to) and his "crew" meet up with us 20 minutes later. Good thing we got off to an early start.
Without boring you with the checking in, getting through security, and the flight, let's just say we made it to NY with little problem. (Well, we almost lost one parent, but we found her.)
After a 2 hour subway ride, we arrived at Robin and Harve's (our hosts) house. Robin and Harve hosted us last time we came to NY, although we only brought 12 that time. They are amazing people. They have lived as missionaries in NY for over 3 years. They had moved since we were there last, and now lived in a building owned by an 86 year old woman, affectionately called Grandma. Grandma is an interesting character and we'll get back to her in a minute. First, the building. It's a three story apartment building with a basement. Grandma lives on the first floor, and she rents out the second and third floor apartments to Robin and Harve. And she also lets them use the basement. Now, these apartments aren't small, but when you try to cram 30 people in them, they start to feel cramped. I was in the basement with 9 other guys on bunk beds. Thankfully, I got to sleep in a bottom bunk, because the top bunks were about 3 feet from the ceiling. Somehow, we managed to get the other 20 people comfortable upstairs. At the time, us basement dwellers felt a little cramped, but looking back, it wasn't so bad. Part of the problem is that the hallways in the whole house were narrow, so you always felt like walls were all around.
Now, logically, you would think being in the basement would be the coolest place in the house. You know, hot air rises and all that. I'm not sure that applied the first night. It had to be 80 degrees down there. For all the complaining we did that first night, I think most of it was half-hearted and we were all just excited about being there. Well, at least I was. Thankfully, the next two nights were much cooler. As it turns out, the weather the whole trip was pretty good. It rained Friday making it very cool, to the point we had to buy long sleeve shirts because nobody brought any. Saturday was a little warmer, but nothing like we have in Cincinnati in August. It could have been a lot worse.
Grandma was a riot. She grew up in Washington, DC and moved by NY 30 (or 50) years ago. Oh, the stories she told. I can't tell them nearly as well as she can, but suffice it to say that she has led a very interesting life. She was such a blessing for us on this trip and it would have been a much different trip without her.
Friday brought a trip to LPAC, where we had visited last time. LPAC is a school/daycare/afterschool program type place, and the day we arrived, there were 40-50 kids, ranging in age from about 4-11. We were scheduled to be there from 10-3, so the first half of the day we did crafts with the kids. What a mess! Some people did face painting with the kids (which turned into mostly arm tattoos by the end). I helped with the sand painting. We had these crosses that were sectioned so you could peel off a section revealing a sticky side, on which you would then neatly apply some sand, turning that section the color of the sand. That lasted for the first section. Well, the neat part anyway. Most of the kids actually got the concept, but man, what a mess. But it was during this activity that I met my buddy for the day. Andy. Andy plopped down right beside me and didn't leave for 2 hours. We ended up making 3 crosses and I took him to get a "tattoo" of a tiger. Only a week later, I don't remember much of what Andy and I talked about. The only thing I remember him saying was "Do you want one of my crosses to take with you so you have something to remember me by?" How does that not melt your heart?
After lunch, some members of our group did a clown program for the kids (very well done, by the way), and Andy sat with me the whole time. Then we played some games. You would have thought the sand was sugar and that they ate it all. Man, were they hyper. But hyper kids make for fun games. We stayed at LPAC about 45 minutes longer than we were supposed to, but the time went by so quick. I hope I never forget Andy.
Friday night was Times Square. Fun, but not much to tell. M&M world was cool, though. They had the weirdest mannequins at the Gap. I'll see if I can find some pictures....
Saturday was a day I'll never forget. After breakfast, the 30 of us split up into 2 groups: those that wanted to see Yankee Stadium later in the day, and those that didn't. Of course I wanted to see Yankee Stadium. The other group went to Little Italy in the Bronx while our group did an "Ask the Lord" listening prayer activity. Going into it, I just planned on going through the motions, doing what I was told, and just get through it. God had other plans. The idea was for each of us to find a quiet place to pray and listen to God and just write down what we heard, or what we thought, or what came to mind. Well, I'm not very good at just sitting and listening, so I walked. And I walked. I walked by the AIDS hospital that we visited last trip and I wrote down "AIDS." Then I wrote down "HURT" because visiting those people 2 years ago, you could see the hurt in some of their eyes. I walked some more. I wrote down "WHY AM I WALKING", because I was getting annoyed, thinking God wasn't talking to me. Then I saw a little girl. I wrote down "CHILD." Then I wrote down "ORPHAN." Not surprisingly after that, I wrote down "RUSSIA" (Andrea and I are in the process of adopting from Russia). And I didn't think much about it. I stopped walking when I got back to the house. We had some time left, so I popped open my Bible. First page I went to: Psalm 118. I read verses 81-88. I didn't think much of that either. Then we all gathered back to share what we found. I kept reading my list and those verses. One phrase kept coming back to me: "When will you comfort me?" Suddenly, I couldn't read it without crying. People were sharing their stories, and I kept trying to read this verse. I couldn't. I kept thinking of a little girl in Russia asking me "when will you comfort me?" or "when will you come for me?" When it came time to share, I tried to read it. I'm not sure how it came out - probably all high pitched and whiny sounding like when you try to talk while crying. Something came over me in that room that I'll never be able to explain. But after going through that, I'm confident that adopting is the right thing to do and that God will help us through it.
Yankee Stadium was a bust. We got there 30 minutes after the last tour went through. We tried to beg and plead our way in, to no avail. Maybe next time....
We threw a block party for the neighborhood Saturday night. We grilled out hot dogs and hamburgers, passed out school supplies to the kids, did face painting, and met the neighborhood. Apparently, we were technically breaking the law by having this block party, as you are only allowed one per year, so of course the police showed up. We quickly disbanded the party after that, but I think everyone had a good time.
In the middle of the block party, one of the adults on our trip came out of the house arm in arm with our youth pastor and shared that he had an announcement to make. Now, about 3 months ago, a lady in our church who knows this man very well said that this trip was for him. And she was right. He announced that he had accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior and that it was time for a change. And everyone cheered. It was awesome. The glow about this man the rest of the day was indescribable. What an incredible thing to witness.
With the block party ending a little early, there was time to go ride the Staten Island Ferry and see the Statue of Liberty. Looking back on it now, I should have gone, but I was so tired, well drained would be a better way to put it, that I decided not to go. It's a good thing, too, because those that went didn't get back home until 2am. So I was thankful for the extra sleep.
Sunday was supposed to be attending the Brooklyn Tabernacle, but there was some confusion on the service times and it turns out we weren't able to attend. No worries - we all ate lunch and headed for the airport.
Looking back now, I wouldn't have missed this trip for the world. I hesitated even going on the trip, and then deciding to help lead the trip, but I'm so glad I did. Thank you to all who helped and to all who went and to all who stayed back to make it possible for us to go. I can't wait to get back.
Ramble On...
Deciding to go on this trip was difficult for me. Not only because traveling is somewhat difficult with my food allergies, but also because of the one year old bundle of joy at home that needs her daddy. I talked it over with Andrea and she assured me that if I felt like I had to go, that she would be fine taking care of baby. Now, I knew she would be fine actually taking care of her, but to get her approval seemed liked the best route to go.
The trip started on Thursday. Early Thursday. Early, as in "I'll see you at church at 6am" early. We had an 11am flight in Columbus, so I was planning on leaving church by 7. To everyone's credit, they all arrived early and we were able to depart around 6:45. We were taking four vans to the airport, so I'm thinking we're in pretty good shape. That lasted for about 20 minutes. That's when we see the last van in our caravan pull off and exit the highway. Something must be wrong. We call. "Somethings wrong," they say. Great. The other vans pull off at the next exit and call again. "All my lug nuts were loose. We'll be back on the road in 5 minutes." So Lugnut (as the driver is henceforth referred to) and his "crew" meet up with us 20 minutes later. Good thing we got off to an early start.
Without boring you with the checking in, getting through security, and the flight, let's just say we made it to NY with little problem. (Well, we almost lost one parent, but we found her.)
After a 2 hour subway ride, we arrived at Robin and Harve's (our hosts) house. Robin and Harve hosted us last time we came to NY, although we only brought 12 that time. They are amazing people. They have lived as missionaries in NY for over 3 years. They had moved since we were there last, and now lived in a building owned by an 86 year old woman, affectionately called Grandma. Grandma is an interesting character and we'll get back to her in a minute. First, the building. It's a three story apartment building with a basement. Grandma lives on the first floor, and she rents out the second and third floor apartments to Robin and Harve. And she also lets them use the basement. Now, these apartments aren't small, but when you try to cram 30 people in them, they start to feel cramped. I was in the basement with 9 other guys on bunk beds. Thankfully, I got to sleep in a bottom bunk, because the top bunks were about 3 feet from the ceiling. Somehow, we managed to get the other 20 people comfortable upstairs. At the time, us basement dwellers felt a little cramped, but looking back, it wasn't so bad. Part of the problem is that the hallways in the whole house were narrow, so you always felt like walls were all around.
Now, logically, you would think being in the basement would be the coolest place in the house. You know, hot air rises and all that. I'm not sure that applied the first night. It had to be 80 degrees down there. For all the complaining we did that first night, I think most of it was half-hearted and we were all just excited about being there. Well, at least I was. Thankfully, the next two nights were much cooler. As it turns out, the weather the whole trip was pretty good. It rained Friday making it very cool, to the point we had to buy long sleeve shirts because nobody brought any. Saturday was a little warmer, but nothing like we have in Cincinnati in August. It could have been a lot worse.
Grandma was a riot. She grew up in Washington, DC and moved by NY 30 (or 50) years ago. Oh, the stories she told. I can't tell them nearly as well as she can, but suffice it to say that she has led a very interesting life. She was such a blessing for us on this trip and it would have been a much different trip without her.
Friday brought a trip to LPAC, where we had visited last time. LPAC is a school/daycare/afterschool program type place, and the day we arrived, there were 40-50 kids, ranging in age from about 4-11. We were scheduled to be there from 10-3, so the first half of the day we did crafts with the kids. What a mess! Some people did face painting with the kids (which turned into mostly arm tattoos by the end). I helped with the sand painting. We had these crosses that were sectioned so you could peel off a section revealing a sticky side, on which you would then neatly apply some sand, turning that section the color of the sand. That lasted for the first section. Well, the neat part anyway. Most of the kids actually got the concept, but man, what a mess. But it was during this activity that I met my buddy for the day. Andy. Andy plopped down right beside me and didn't leave for 2 hours. We ended up making 3 crosses and I took him to get a "tattoo" of a tiger. Only a week later, I don't remember much of what Andy and I talked about. The only thing I remember him saying was "Do you want one of my crosses to take with you so you have something to remember me by?" How does that not melt your heart?
After lunch, some members of our group did a clown program for the kids (very well done, by the way), and Andy sat with me the whole time. Then we played some games. You would have thought the sand was sugar and that they ate it all. Man, were they hyper. But hyper kids make for fun games. We stayed at LPAC about 45 minutes longer than we were supposed to, but the time went by so quick. I hope I never forget Andy.
Friday night was Times Square. Fun, but not much to tell. M&M world was cool, though. They had the weirdest mannequins at the Gap. I'll see if I can find some pictures....
Saturday was a day I'll never forget. After breakfast, the 30 of us split up into 2 groups: those that wanted to see Yankee Stadium later in the day, and those that didn't. Of course I wanted to see Yankee Stadium. The other group went to Little Italy in the Bronx while our group did an "Ask the Lord" listening prayer activity. Going into it, I just planned on going through the motions, doing what I was told, and just get through it. God had other plans. The idea was for each of us to find a quiet place to pray and listen to God and just write down what we heard, or what we thought, or what came to mind. Well, I'm not very good at just sitting and listening, so I walked. And I walked. I walked by the AIDS hospital that we visited last trip and I wrote down "AIDS." Then I wrote down "HURT" because visiting those people 2 years ago, you could see the hurt in some of their eyes. I walked some more. I wrote down "WHY AM I WALKING", because I was getting annoyed, thinking God wasn't talking to me. Then I saw a little girl. I wrote down "CHILD." Then I wrote down "ORPHAN." Not surprisingly after that, I wrote down "RUSSIA" (Andrea and I are in the process of adopting from Russia). And I didn't think much about it. I stopped walking when I got back to the house. We had some time left, so I popped open my Bible. First page I went to: Psalm 118. I read verses 81-88. I didn't think much of that either. Then we all gathered back to share what we found. I kept reading my list and those verses. One phrase kept coming back to me: "When will you comfort me?" Suddenly, I couldn't read it without crying. People were sharing their stories, and I kept trying to read this verse. I couldn't. I kept thinking of a little girl in Russia asking me "when will you comfort me?" or "when will you come for me?" When it came time to share, I tried to read it. I'm not sure how it came out - probably all high pitched and whiny sounding like when you try to talk while crying. Something came over me in that room that I'll never be able to explain. But after going through that, I'm confident that adopting is the right thing to do and that God will help us through it.
Yankee Stadium was a bust. We got there 30 minutes after the last tour went through. We tried to beg and plead our way in, to no avail. Maybe next time....
We threw a block party for the neighborhood Saturday night. We grilled out hot dogs and hamburgers, passed out school supplies to the kids, did face painting, and met the neighborhood. Apparently, we were technically breaking the law by having this block party, as you are only allowed one per year, so of course the police showed up. We quickly disbanded the party after that, but I think everyone had a good time.
In the middle of the block party, one of the adults on our trip came out of the house arm in arm with our youth pastor and shared that he had an announcement to make. Now, about 3 months ago, a lady in our church who knows this man very well said that this trip was for him. And she was right. He announced that he had accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior and that it was time for a change. And everyone cheered. It was awesome. The glow about this man the rest of the day was indescribable. What an incredible thing to witness.
With the block party ending a little early, there was time to go ride the Staten Island Ferry and see the Statue of Liberty. Looking back on it now, I should have gone, but I was so tired, well drained would be a better way to put it, that I decided not to go. It's a good thing, too, because those that went didn't get back home until 2am. So I was thankful for the extra sleep.
Sunday was supposed to be attending the Brooklyn Tabernacle, but there was some confusion on the service times and it turns out we weren't able to attend. No worries - we all ate lunch and headed for the airport.
Looking back now, I wouldn't have missed this trip for the world. I hesitated even going on the trip, and then deciding to help lead the trip, but I'm so glad I did. Thank you to all who helped and to all who went and to all who stayed back to make it possible for us to go. I can't wait to get back.
Ramble On...
Friday, July 6, 2007
why i hate fireworks
My original title was "why i hate the 4th of July," but it's not the actual day I hate. Nor is it the celebration of America, our freedom, and whatever else people celebrate this time of year. No, the fact is, I hate fireworks. If that makes me un-American, so be it. Yeah, fireworks are pretty (if you are 12 or are a girl). Yeah, they make loud noises. So? When's the last time they created a new firework? I mean, it's the same thing every year, right?
I didn't really start hating fireworks until I owned a house. A house close to other houses, that is. In my scientific study, at two-thirds of the people in this country are idiots. By my luck, Cincinnati seems to have eclipsed that number. Don't believe me? Watch the news. Anyway, alcohol + idiot + fireworks could mean the burning down of my house. (OCD strikes again!) Now I'm a pretty heavy sleeper, and when I'm tired, there's not much to keep me from sleeping. Fireworks included. So when I was still living with my parents, I wasn't really affected much by fireworks. I could still go to bed even if my brothers were still setting them off in the backyard. The wife, however, not such a good sleeper (especially before the baby). Pretty much any noise could wake her up or keep her from sleeping. So, once I got the wife and the house, I started hating fireworks.
Then came baby.
Oh how I hate fireworks. Apparently loud booms right outside baby's window is less than comforting when she's trying to sleep. And when she's tired, and not asleep, baby tends to cry. And when she's asleep, and suddenly woken up, baby tends to scream her head off. Needless to say, this has not been a fun week. It could have been worse, as baby has only gotten up a few times, but still.
So when I'm all grown up, and my kids aren't at home anymore, and I can't see a house for miles around, maybe July 4 will be a bit more enjoyable. I'll just lie back, put my teeth in their jar, and enjoy the show.
Ramble On...
I didn't really start hating fireworks until I owned a house. A house close to other houses, that is. In my scientific study, at two-thirds of the people in this country are idiots. By my luck, Cincinnati seems to have eclipsed that number. Don't believe me? Watch the news. Anyway, alcohol + idiot + fireworks could mean the burning down of my house. (OCD strikes again!) Now I'm a pretty heavy sleeper, and when I'm tired, there's not much to keep me from sleeping. Fireworks included. So when I was still living with my parents, I wasn't really affected much by fireworks. I could still go to bed even if my brothers were still setting them off in the backyard. The wife, however, not such a good sleeper (especially before the baby). Pretty much any noise could wake her up or keep her from sleeping. So, once I got the wife and the house, I started hating fireworks.
Then came baby.
Oh how I hate fireworks. Apparently loud booms right outside baby's window is less than comforting when she's trying to sleep. And when she's tired, and not asleep, baby tends to cry. And when she's asleep, and suddenly woken up, baby tends to scream her head off. Needless to say, this has not been a fun week. It could have been worse, as baby has only gotten up a few times, but still.
So when I'm all grown up, and my kids aren't at home anymore, and I can't see a house for miles around, maybe July 4 will be a bit more enjoyable. I'll just lie back, put my teeth in their jar, and enjoy the show.
Ramble On...
Friday, June 15, 2007
my disease
Ok, well I don't really have a disease. At least not one that I'm aware of or has been medically diagnosed. (The OCD was a self diagnosis, and while I play doctor on myself sometimes, I have no "actual" training.) What I do have is an allergy to, among other things, wheat and dairy products. Andrea would tell you I'm allergic to housework, but she's no doctor either. And I do my fair share(ish). Anyway, I have a wheat allergy. The typical conversation when I reveal this to someone goes along the lines of:
Me: "Yeah, it turns out I'm allergic to wheat."
Them: (scrunches up face like I just farted or something) "Oh my gosh! Really?! Man, that sucks."
Me: "I know, right? I can't eat dairy either."
Them: (mouth agape like a hungry baby robin) "What do you EAT?!!!"
Now, there are dozens of different ways to go with this. I could go with the "well, mostly twigs and berries that I find behind my house," but most people would know that I'd be making fun of them (which I would be). I've gone with "I eat a lot of Mexican," though if I'm feeling a little saucy, I throw an "s" on the end there just to see if they pick up on it. But mostly I just go with "a lot of meat and vegetables" because I'm a good little boy and I don't like making people uncomfortable. If you have something better (funnier, meaner, wittier) to say, let me know. This could be fun.
Contrary to what most people think, they're really are a lot of options left in the food world if you take out wheat and dairy. But what makes it nice for me is the options that it does take away. For instance, I haven't eaten at McDonald's in close to 10 years. It's not that I can't eat anything there, just that they didn't become the biggest restaurant (if you can call it that) in the world on the reputation of their salads. Not missing McDonalds. I haven't had a pop (or soda or Coke - whatever you call liquid candy) in a very long time. Even when I taste it now - it's awful. It's "burn my throat" awful. I imagine it's how whiskey tastes to normal people. I've never had whiskey, but when people drink it on the tv, they swallow, make this awful face like they just bit into an onion instead of an apple, and then shake like my dog does after she comes in from the rain. Let's just say I'll be staying away from that too. (Pop, not whiskey. Ok whiskey too.) Speaking of alcohol, I can't have beer either. Not that I drank it before I got my allergy, but it turns out to be an easy excuse.
Some schmuck at a nearby picnic: "Here - have a beer."
Me: "No thanks. I'm good."
schmuck: "Aw, come on. Just one."
Me: "No really. But thank you."
schmuck: "What are you, some kind of religious nut?"
Me: "Yeah."
schmuck: "Just have a beer."
Me: "No - I'm allergic to wheat. It would blow my face up like a balloon."
schmuck: "Oh, allright man. Here's a water."
So you see how it can come in handy. Now, this conversation never really happened (and my face doesn't blow up like a balloon when I eat wheat), but still. These allergies have turned out to be a real blessing. It's a little inconvenient at times, but overall I eat way better than I ever would have without the allergies. Plus, it keeps the weight off. I haven't been over 160 lbs since high school (my "husky" days - but that's a whole other story).
Ramble On...
Me: "Yeah, it turns out I'm allergic to wheat."
Them: (scrunches up face like I just farted or something) "Oh my gosh! Really?! Man, that sucks."
Me: "I know, right? I can't eat dairy either."
Them: (mouth agape like a hungry baby robin) "What do you EAT?!!!"
Now, there are dozens of different ways to go with this. I could go with the "well, mostly twigs and berries that I find behind my house," but most people would know that I'd be making fun of them (which I would be). I've gone with "I eat a lot of Mexican," though if I'm feeling a little saucy, I throw an "s" on the end there just to see if they pick up on it. But mostly I just go with "a lot of meat and vegetables" because I'm a good little boy and I don't like making people uncomfortable. If you have something better (funnier, meaner, wittier) to say, let me know. This could be fun.
Contrary to what most people think, they're really are a lot of options left in the food world if you take out wheat and dairy. But what makes it nice for me is the options that it does take away. For instance, I haven't eaten at McDonald's in close to 10 years. It's not that I can't eat anything there, just that they didn't become the biggest restaurant (if you can call it that) in the world on the reputation of their salads. Not missing McDonalds. I haven't had a pop (or soda or Coke - whatever you call liquid candy) in a very long time. Even when I taste it now - it's awful. It's "burn my throat" awful. I imagine it's how whiskey tastes to normal people. I've never had whiskey, but when people drink it on the tv, they swallow, make this awful face like they just bit into an onion instead of an apple, and then shake like my dog does after she comes in from the rain. Let's just say I'll be staying away from that too. (Pop, not whiskey. Ok whiskey too.) Speaking of alcohol, I can't have beer either. Not that I drank it before I got my allergy, but it turns out to be an easy excuse.
Some schmuck at a nearby picnic: "Here - have a beer."
Me: "No thanks. I'm good."
schmuck: "Aw, come on. Just one."
Me: "No really. But thank you."
schmuck: "What are you, some kind of religious nut?"
Me: "Yeah."
schmuck: "Just have a beer."
Me: "No - I'm allergic to wheat. It would blow my face up like a balloon."
schmuck: "Oh, allright man. Here's a water."
So you see how it can come in handy. Now, this conversation never really happened (and my face doesn't blow up like a balloon when I eat wheat), but still. These allergies have turned out to be a real blessing. It's a little inconvenient at times, but overall I eat way better than I ever would have without the allergies. Plus, it keeps the weight off. I haven't been over 160 lbs since high school (my "husky" days - but that's a whole other story).
Ramble On...
Friday, June 8, 2007
why i hate the internet
Ok. I don't really hate the internet. There are a lot of good things about the internet. But being a hypochondriac, the internet is sometimes bad for me. WebMD is possibly the worst site I've ever encountered. You see, they have this symptom checker type thing whereby you put in what hurts, what aches, and what twitches, and it tells you what could possibly be wrong with you. Inevitably, whatever I put in, it always comes back that I have some sort of cancer or other incurable disease that will ruin my life (and/or end it). There's probably some disclaimer on the site somewhere that warns you about making your own diagnosis or some crap, but when I type in headache it shoots back brain tumor - I'm freaked out.
You know what's kind of like hypochondria? OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder, for those not in the know). How do you know if you have OCD? Here's my checklist:
Other things I obsess about? Water coming in the basement. My daughter suffocating because she sleeps on her stomach. What that sound was that I can't identify. Anything WebMD tells me. Why nobody likes me :( (Ok - that one's not true - how can you not like this?) For some reason, I worry all the time about what could happen even though that thing probably won't happen. Miraculously, I have no problem getting on planes. Even when the worst stuff happens, it's not so bad. We had some electricians hit the sprinkler line at our house in MD (on the second floor no less) causing water to flow onto the carpet/walls on the second floor and into the first floor ceiling. 3 days later, you couldn't tell it ever happened. Do I still obsess about it happening at my current house? Yep.
Ramble On...
You know what's kind of like hypochondria? OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder, for those not in the know). How do you know if you have OCD? Here's my checklist:
- Do you check whether the doors are locked multiple times before leaving the house?
- Do you check whether the oven is off multiple times before leaving the house?
- Do you check whether the garage doors closes multiple times before pulling away from the house?
- Do you turn around at the end of the street to go back home to make sure either (a) the garage door is closed, (b) the oven is off, or (c) the doors are locked.
Other things I obsess about? Water coming in the basement. My daughter suffocating because she sleeps on her stomach. What that sound was that I can't identify. Anything WebMD tells me. Why nobody likes me :( (Ok - that one's not true - how can you not like this?) For some reason, I worry all the time about what could happen even though that thing probably won't happen. Miraculously, I have no problem getting on planes. Even when the worst stuff happens, it's not so bad. We had some electricians hit the sprinkler line at our house in MD (on the second floor no less) causing water to flow onto the carpet/walls on the second floor and into the first floor ceiling. 3 days later, you couldn't tell it ever happened. Do I still obsess about it happening at my current house? Yep.
Ramble On...
Thursday, June 7, 2007
what the hell was I thinking?
Describe scary: I am in charge of leading 31 people, including 12 middle/high schoolers, on a trip that involves driving from Cincinnati to Columbus, boarding a plane New York, then taking the subway 90 minutes to our intended destination. Oh yeah, and I can't lose any of them along the way. (Acceptable losses include whiny children, whiny adults, and people who just irritate me.)
Ok, I guess it's not that scary. I mean most of these people are adults or belong to adults who will be there. You would think most of them have travel experience. And I think of a few of them have even flown before! That's not fair - I don't really know how many have flown before. But can you see where it's a little daunting? I don't think it's the actual flying/subway ride that's scary, I think it's the number of people. 31. Half of the places I worked didn't have 31 employees!
Did I mention it's a missions trip? Yeah, doing the Lord's work. So there's no real reason to complain, I suppose. He (that's God) has gotten me through plenty of tough situations before - no reason He would fail me now. I think once we get there, it will be a great trip though. Admittedly, ministering to children is way easier than ministering to adults - and most of this trip will be interacting with children. Why is that? Why is it easier to tell children about God than it is to tell adults? Am I afraid the adult will think I'm stupid? Wouldn't be the first time. Am I afraid they will laugh. Been laughed at. Am I afraid they will hit me? That's just silly. So what is it? I think it really is that I am afraid of what people will think of me. Weren't we taught in 3rd or 4th grade to not care what other people think? So why do we? Why do we need everyone to like us? Or at least think we aren't nuts?
Back to the trip - I think harder than actually going on the trip is planning it. I have to worry about gathering all the money, making the plane reservations, getting transportation to the airport, making sure people pack light, but not too light, calling everybody when something changes....It's just tiring. Some have suggested that I delegate some of those tasks, but then instead of worrying about the actual task, I worry about the person I assigned it to. At least this way I have some semblance of control.
Well, if you got this far, you are a brave soul. Or just bored. If I could type as fast as mind races, this thing would have been about 20 times as long. Good for you then, I guess.
Til next time - Ramble On...
Ok, I guess it's not that scary. I mean most of these people are adults or belong to adults who will be there. You would think most of them have travel experience. And I think of a few of them have even flown before! That's not fair - I don't really know how many have flown before. But can you see where it's a little daunting? I don't think it's the actual flying/subway ride that's scary, I think it's the number of people. 31. Half of the places I worked didn't have 31 employees!
Did I mention it's a missions trip? Yeah, doing the Lord's work. So there's no real reason to complain, I suppose. He (that's God) has gotten me through plenty of tough situations before - no reason He would fail me now. I think once we get there, it will be a great trip though. Admittedly, ministering to children is way easier than ministering to adults - and most of this trip will be interacting with children. Why is that? Why is it easier to tell children about God than it is to tell adults? Am I afraid the adult will think I'm stupid? Wouldn't be the first time. Am I afraid they will laugh. Been laughed at. Am I afraid they will hit me? That's just silly. So what is it? I think it really is that I am afraid of what people will think of me. Weren't we taught in 3rd or 4th grade to not care what other people think? So why do we? Why do we need everyone to like us? Or at least think we aren't nuts?
Back to the trip - I think harder than actually going on the trip is planning it. I have to worry about gathering all the money, making the plane reservations, getting transportation to the airport, making sure people pack light, but not too light, calling everybody when something changes....It's just tiring. Some have suggested that I delegate some of those tasks, but then instead of worrying about the actual task, I worry about the person I assigned it to. At least this way I have some semblance of control.
Well, if you got this far, you are a brave soul. Or just bored. If I could type as fast as mind races, this thing would have been about 20 times as long. Good for you then, I guess.
Til next time - Ramble On...
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