A bloggers husband.

This blogging thing has apparently gotten very popular lately. I have 2 acquaintances that have gone nuts for it. I'll change their names to protect the innocent. My first friend, let's call her, Sami Peterson, has been blogging for quite a while. Family stories, news, opinions, and advice are often posted. 'Sami' got her friend 'Didi Belson' started blogging recently. Let's just say, it caught fire. Since I am related to 'Didi' I can tell you a little about her blogging routine.
First, in the morning, on goes the computer. Our favorites list contains a school site, a bank site and 30 blog sites.

"Oooo!, I wonder if Sami has posted yet." Didi checks the computer. "Oh, she has! What cute pictures!" The phone is then speed-dialed to Sami. "I just read your blog. It's great!"
"Thanks" , says Sami. "I just read your last post. It's awesome! And guess what? I've just found ten more blogs for us to check out!"
"Really? I love it!" , screams Didi.
Then for the next 45 minutes or so, Sami and Didi, talk back and forth like Betty and Wilma on their cave phones. Blogging as they talk. Or maybe talking as they blog. Jumping from site to site.

"Did you read what she wrote?"
"What kind of tree was in that picture?"
"How many comments did that posting get?"
"That one sounds totally made up."
"Did you check the blog contest?"

"I am so going to comment on this one."




And on, and on, and on. There is nothing wrong with blogging. I actually like to do it too. But when Didi gets her sites set on the computer, I usually have to grab the dog and dive out of her way, or risk getting steam rolled. Maybe things would be safer if we went wireless. But then blogging would move into other rooms of the house. I'd have to read posts like, "Is my husband's snoring more like a hibernating bear or a bullfrog?", or, "Emergency driver's licenses for 8 year olds, when Mom is typing in the van."

Sami and Didi are very good and entertaining writers and I encourage them to keep going, full steam ahead. I would recommend their sites to you, but I am keeping their identities secret until they wish to be known. Until then, I will be on my guard to jump out of the way when needed.

I am soooo going to get comments on this.

Resolutions...

Well, since it is New Year's resolution time, I thought I would share mine. I generally don't make resolutions at New Years. If you resolve to improve yourself, do it at any time of the year. Don't wait until Jan. 1st to empty the resolution hamper.

Some resolutions are placed upon you from others. For Christmas, I received a chin-up bar from my adoring wife. I wonder what message she was sending me. I guess I misspelled BIG SCREEN TV on my list. In truth, I actually asked for a chin-up bar. In the past, when I have had a sudden burst of ambition, I used push-ups, sit-ups and chin-ups to get in shape. I know there isn't much cardio involved, but still, it's a start. Playing basketball used to be my 'running' workout. If anyone wants to play some basketball with my son and I, let us know. Don't let previous blogs frighten you. You won't need a catcher's mask for protection.

My exercise philosophy is 'the simpler, the better.' Or you could also say 'the cheaper, the better.' My wife will tell you which one best describes me.

So, now the question you are all anxiously wanting to ask.
The answer is, I am now up to 4 & 1/2 pull-ups! (fanfare, confetti, etc)

I must have forgotten how difficult pull-ups were. I don't remember gravity pulling on me so hard in my younger years. It must be stronger now, due to global warming and all. Still, anything worth doing is seldom easy. My goal is to work my way up to 10 chin-ups, before hangers of clothes start appearing on it. Isn't that what eventually happens to all exercise equipment?
As far as any other resolutions, I really don't have any. I'd really like to try downhill skiing this year if we can find time. Or maybe, I'll just get a Nordic Track instead.

My little heart breaker

My young daughter is precocious to say the least. The most recent example of this was last week. She was getting ready for preschool. She was dressed and clean, watching television while I packed her backpack. I like to tease her from time to time. I asked her if she was ready for school.
"Yes.", she replied.
I asked, "Are you going to listen to your teacher"?
"Yes. ", she said still watching TV.
I then said, "You can't kiss any of the boys today, OK?".
She said, "Why?".
My dad-senses started tingling. "What do you mean, Why?" , I inquired, pushing the vein back into my temple. "Are there some boys you want to kiss?"
"No", she replied.
Wanting to know her reasoning I asked, "Why not?".
She nonchalantly stated, "Because none of them are my husband."
I know her little girl mind was thinking, "Duh, dad".

Photo philosophy

I've been looking at my blog picture. Does it look like someone pondering a complex problem, someone trying to make a muscle, or someone punching themselves in the forehead?
I know the "muscle" one is the least likely. And the other two options could be one in the same. I'm often punching myself in the forehead when wrestling with momentous decisions like "paper or plastic?", "does this tie match my underwear?". Stuff like that. You can make the call. My ponderous thoughts usually occur in another room of the house. Sometimes called the 'Throne Room' or thinking room. One where a computer is rarely seen. And people, also are rarely seen when I'm in there. So my advice is, "When inspiration hits, light a candle and race to blog site."

Basketball diaries

Well, due to mostly positive feedback, I've decided to continue my posts. For those of the negative opinion, may a fondue skewer find an unfortunate target.

My son, Ethan, has signed up for a basketball league this January. He practices on Tuesday nights with the rest of his 2nd grade teammates. Since I work Tuesday nights, I miss out on seeing his progress. I played basketball in the ancient days of high school, so it was exciting to hear that it's still played with a round ball, round hoop with a net and on a basketball court. He described some of the passing and dribbling drills they do and it brought back my own memories of those same drills. The dribbling off my foot drill and the catching the ball with my face drill were ones at which I was especially skilled.
So, with Ethan's enthusiasm and my longing for the glory days, we drove to open gym at the high school to show our skills.
Step one:Send a message to everyone in the gym by "skying" to the rim on the first shot.
Step two:Limp back to the sidelines after "skying" attempt failed to touch net and also reminded me to stretch out first.
Step three:Stretch out.
Step four:Stop stretching due to groin pull.(See Step two)
By this time Ethan was tired of watching my theatrics (or geriatrics) and decided to find a hoop to shoot on. We start shooting around and I asked him what he does at his team practices. He tells me about the passing drill where he and his teammate pass the ball back and forth while shuffling sideways down the court. I determined this drill risky, with the groin pull and all."What else?", I ask him. We also practice dribbling without looking at the ball. This I can probably handle. We start dibbling and he is pretty good for 8 years old. He tells me to walk around him while he dribbles so his head follows me and he keeps dribbling. "Pretty good", I tell him. Then I say, "Watch this". I grab the ball and start dibbling like a jackhammer. Left, right, between the legs, behind the back, I'm putting on a show! I'm not sure when, but sometime during behind my back or between the legs the ball disappeared. I hear an "Oh my God!" and a loud thud. I look around and see a parent holding their nose. Now it's my turn to say, Oh my God! I go over to apologize. I came back with a dictionary full of expletives. Many I haven't heard before and most I'll have to look up the meanings to.
As I returned red faced to Ethan he said, "She was sure mad, huh Dad?".
"Yeah, she was, son. Maybe, we should just keep this to ourselves.", I suggested.
We then found a nice quiet hoop to play h-o-r-s-e. I at least got an H on Ethan before I lost. We were now a little tired and sweaty, so we decided to call it an afternoon and go home to eat. I asked Ethan if he had fun. He said, "Yeah, can we do this next Sunday". "Sure, son," I said, "But next time we bring your mom for backup".

This is a piece of cake

My wife got on the blogging kick a little over a year ago. It looked kinda fun, and since I am so computer savvy I had her immediately set up a blog site for me. "A little over a year" is pretty immediate for me. Now for the tough part. Thinking of something to write that someone would find interesting enough to spend the time and effort to read. I am open for topics of discussion. As long as they are trivial and/or sophomoric. But, be warned. There will probably be a few "cute kid" stories as well. I'll try to keep the best ones and let my wife do the leftovers.

Speaking of leftovers. Cake is always better on the day after baking. It is moister (if that is a word) and you can eat a bigger piece, since your "cake serving company" has gone home by then. And if you take an entire row of cake, your wife doesn't know how many pieces you have eaten. I'm not condoning secret- keeping from your wife, but sometimes 1 piece of cake isn't enough. And sometimes, the frosting on one piece of cake isn't enough either. That's when you use your finger to steal some of the fringe frosting that is left on the cake board after serving. Also, get a corner piece if you can. With a rose. Adding ice cream always improves cake. The best part of eating cake is eating the last piece in the pan. You don't have to dirty a plate. You can just scoop your ice cream right into the pan and eat. That also applies to the last scoop(or four) of ice cream in the bucket. Toss in a square of cake and grab a spoon. It is also more fun if you use the big spoons in your drawer. Now you have a picture of what I do at 9pm, in front of the TV, with a bucket in my lap.
Thanks all for now.