Monthly Archives: September 2011

September 29, 2011

At Home Dry Cleaning

By Simon

Sweet

The Dryer  

This is the second reference to the dryer I have written this week so you Freudians feel free to judge  and explain what is wrong with me.  You know when you have worn a shirt and managed not to spill coffee on it?  It is one of the “good shirts” and it is sitting on top of the laundry pile having avoided the osmosis funk that lurks just beneath that top layer.  If this shirt is in the “starting rotation” I am not above getting a second wear out of it provided I administer a bit of at home dry cleaning.  Am I alone in thinking that 5 minutes in a dryer with a dryer sheet not only gets out most wrinkles but also pretty much makes a garment clean again?   I think that we can all agree that jeans don’t reach their optimal look and comfort until the third wear between washes but if you try to stretch that out to a fourth then you are just gross and lazy. While the jeans thing is a certainty that I would be willing to argue I have an inkling that I am not alone in the at home dry cleaning thing.   I am a big fan of the dryer and its magic ability to “freshen up” something when I am in a time pinch.  While I am interested if this is a common occurence in many homes that just simply isn’t conversation material during the fantasy football draft or bunco night, I do think it necessary to note that this works for outer garments only.  If you do this to socks and underwear you aren’t fooling anyone, you have missed my point entirely, and to be honest, I feel sorry for you.  Washing clothes in 5 minutes in the dryer is totally sweet.

Weak 

Not cursing in front of your kids when you stub your pinkie toe or step on a Lego.

I feel pretty certain that in the deepest dungeons of Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib there were terrorists in blindfolds and bare feet walking around in a dark room with Legos scattered all over the floor.  How is it that something so small and colorful designed only to bring joy and laughter to innocent children capable of inflicting the kind of pain that makes your extremities go numb and your eyes start to water?  In general we are not a family of potty mouths and I am fairly certain that our children have never been subjected to any foul language spewing from mommy or daddy’s lips.  That is not something that takes a great deal of focus or concentration but there are those moments when you kick the corner of the coffee table or step on a toy that is nestled in the carpet waiting for a victim that we have to think quick and be creative.  SON OF A BISCUIT, JEEZE OH PETE, MOTHER OF PEARL, etc.  We all want to be good role models for our children but when someone pulls out in front of you in traffic or the hoof of a “My Little Pony” digs into your heel we can be stretched to our self-censoring limits.  So I guess not cursing in front of your kids is pretty sweet but feeling like you were just stabbed in the toe with a rusty spike and not being able to drop a much-needed F-bomb can be totally weak.  What substitutes do you use in your house?

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September 27, 2011

A Major Award

By Simon

The last 4 days have been pretty crazy.  This blog has only been up for a couple of weeks and somehow found its way to the “Freshly Pressed” page.  I have been overwhelmed with the number of people who have wasted a click to stop by and read and have been very humbled by the kind comments and encouragement.  I have said before that these posts are the only things that I have ever written that weren’t “due” or on the inside of a greeting card.  I write these just to write them and the fact that there are people who are interested in reading it is very surreal.

I am very new to blogs in general and still learning my way around, but this week I am incredibly honored to accept “The Versatile Blogger Award”  from She Can’t Be Serious and Broke Wife, Big City.

Now this award sounds eerily similar to those chain emails you get because I am supposed to list seven things about me and then pass the award on to other blogs that I think are versatile.  I am not certain how I was deemed versatile since I have yet to write my post about how I spend summers entertaining street corners as  an ambidextrous oil painter and  opera singer.

As previously confessed, I am new to blogging  so I will need some time to peruse the internets before making my nominations but I wanted to express my gratitude in a timely fashion.

Thank you very much for reading and for passing the award along.  I am very grateful.

Oh yeah, here are seven things about me:

1. My desk at work and my desk at home still look like the inside of my 10th grade locker; I don’t know how organized people do it.
2. I fell out of a tree on Thanksgiving Day when I was 13 and fractured my pelvis, I shuffled around like an 90-year-old man for almost a month.
3. I really like saying Cheers, not just when I raise a glass but I think it is a great way to say goodbye.
4. I am pretty good at my job but there are parts that really bore me and I tend to slack on those. (I am writing this in my office).
5. I can’t imagine how much dumber I would be if not for the internet.
6. I own a guitar………I don’t play any instruments.
7. My wife read the entire Twilight series of books in like 4 days, now I have to compete with a fictional 17-year-old vampire.

 

P.S.  If you have any great blog suggestions that would be totally sweet.

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September 26, 2011

Must. Make. It. All. In. One. Trip.

By Simon

Sweet

The Fresh Laundry Avalanche 

Laundry is a chore that no one particularly enjoys but in our house my girls have found a silver lining.  My oldest daughter, specifically, loves few things more than having a basket of laundry (especially towels) fresh from the dryer dumped on her.  There is something about wrapping up in those warm fresh towels that just feels awesome.  While I can understand this little joy, I am a bit wary to share her enthusiasm due mostly to a bad experience with those copper rivets on a pair of jeans.  Clothes fresh from the dryer are great but beware metal snaps and buttons.  They have the propensity to achieve temperatures that would make the surface of the sun flinch in pain.  I can remember a time long ago as a child waiting for pants to finish drying so I could put them on and rush out to the bus stop (sad pattern of poor preparation developing in this space).  I was standing there mostly dressed waiting for them to get dry.  My window of time was ticking down so I opened the dryer grabbed them and put them on.  Ahh, warm and fresh as I slid each leg in grateful to be enjoying fresh dryer clothes on a cold morning.  That was, however, until I got to the buttoning part and suddenly YOWWWZA!  How the button on those jeans got that hot without melting is perplexing but what is certain is that any joy of warm clothes from the dryer pales in comparison to burning yourself with the button.  Let’s all stop for a second and think about the location of the button on a pair of jeans and I am sure you can agree that it is a less than ideal place to attempt an accidental at home cattle brand.

That is why we try to keep the laundry avalanches confined to loads of towels and not baby clothes (those things are like a mine-field of hot ember snaps).  It is a short-lived joy, but having a basket of warm towels from the dryer tossed on you is one of those little moments to savor.  On a winter morning, especially, warm dryer clothes are totally sweet.

Weak

Trying to Get it All in One Load 

Yesterday I closed the garage with my tongue.  (I should really probably make that the title for this blog post).  I know I am not the only one, who when faced with the question, “how many grocery bags can you carry?” The answer always is “All of them.”  I guess I trade in the lower body workout of going up and down stairs for the upper body workout of carrying 60 lbs of groceries.  It is a tricky maneuver to maintain circulation in your hands as the handles cut into your skin and keep the bread bag from getting pinched by cans of green beans.  Often, my feeling of triumph in not only grabbing hold of each bag handle but also being able to lift them out of the car is quickly defeated by the tougher obstacles now before me.  First off, do I possess the super-human strength required to lift all of these bags above my head to close the hatchback (is that what you call the back door of a SUV?) of the car?  Secondly, with my rotator cuffs in each shoulder slowly tearing apart, how can I get the garage door closed?  I thought about trying to hit the button with my nose but that seemed silly and I was afraid people were watching so I stuck out my tongue and bingo! down goes the garage door.  I waddle up the stairs and somehow get the groceries onto the kitchen counter before the fingers on my left hand turn completely purple from the seventeen tourniquets I have inflicted them to.  Somehow, in my sophomoric inner person, I feel that congratulations are in order.  Instead, I realize I left my phone in the car.  At least my second trip should be much easier.  Hitting the garage door button with your tongue?  Totally weak.

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September 25, 2011

Learning to Read

By Simon

My 5 year old daughter: “Dad, what does F-R-E-E spell?” Me: “Free.” Her: “What does K-I-T-T-E-N-S spell?” Me: “Grass clippings.”

I love that my daughter is learning to read. Today, I was glad she isn’t quite there yet.

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September 23, 2011

Totally Sweet!

By Simon

My blog just became popular enough to have a comment filtered to the spam folder!

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September 23, 2011

Nothing Starts the Morning Like a Good Dose of Panic.

By Simon

Sweet

Remembering to buy stamps 

There used to be a time that stamps were kind of staple in most houses with all of the bill paying and the letter writing and old-fashioned correspondence.  Now with email and online bill pay, the only time you need stamps are when you are sending Christmas cards or Birthday invitations.  Maybe it’s because we only buy them 3-4 times per year but we basically have to build in a one week “forgot to get stamps” buffer zone in our planning for mailing stuff.  It goes something like writing the word STAMPS on a note on the refrigerator, forgetting them and then circling the word a couple of times like that is going to ingrain the concept into our brains enough that stamps are all we think about.  Usually, there is no less than 3 times that we drive away from a grocery store and as we exit one of us exclaims ‘STAMPS!!”  We look at each other and shrug and then drive on knowing  hoping that soon one of us will triumph over forgetfulness and  get the chore done.  If I manage during that week to remember to pick up stamps somewhere, I usually present them to my wife followed by some silly touchdown celebration dance.  Finally remembering that thing that you keep forgetting is totally sweet.  Yesterday we got a bright orange envelope in the mail that we can put a check into (if we can find the checkbook that never gets used anymore) and the mail-person will take the money and leave stamps in our mailbox!  How are the most obvious ideas sometimes the most elusive?  This solves all of those stamp forgetting problems.  But I can see it now somewhere down the road written on note on the fridge circled three times “find orange stamp envelope!!”

Weak

Forgetting it is Trash Day 

Surely I am not the only one that has been in the kitchen at 6:00 A.M. with their eyes still half closed trying to figure out if the best way to wake up would be to just make a pot of coffee or get in a fight about whose turn it was to set the coffee pot timer.  Well it is at a moment like that still adjusting my eyes to the blaring kitchen light that I will hear a gentle rumbling down the block and instantly have a bolt of adrenaline course through my body and jolt me out of my haze.  Caffeine works great to wake you up but not near as much as the sudden panic that IT IS GARBAGE DAY!! and you forgot to put the can by the road. Instantly my mind sharpens and I have military type precision and focus.  I bound out of the house leaving modesty behind as I grab the can and make a dash for the curb in my pajamas. I see the truck coming down the street and realize I am going to make it in time.  My mind relaxes and I am victorious.  As my cat-like reflexes recoil and I breath in the sweet morning air I am wide awake and suddenly aware of a few things that didn’t garner my attention mid dash.  My feet are soaking wet from the dew, I really need to cut the grass, it is kind of chilly this morning, the fly on these boxers does not stay closed very good mid sprint and that is quite a draft, oh hey there are the neighbor’s kids walking to the bus stop.  That is one short-lived victory once you realize you are standing in your front yard in your underwear.  Why didn’t I just remember the night before?  Forgetting to take out the trash is totally weak.

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September 21, 2011

Dad, what’s a library?

By Simon

Sweet

The Internet 

Remember when you would have a discussion with someone and a question would come up that neither of you knew the answer to?  You would banter back and forth about who played so and so in a movie or what team Dale Murphy retired with, and odds are one of you would say that you needed to look it up but if it wasn’t too important you would just go on about your normal life and forget about it.  Taking the time to look for a book at the library or flip through the pages of an encyclopedia wasn’t always easy and that was just the way things were, and we were happy.  Speaking of encyclopedias, remember those?  One day I will show my daughters encyclopedias and explain to them that these were Google before Google was born.  This was were you found answers to questions and if what you were looking for didn’t fit in one of those books you would have to get into your car and drive to a library.  Libraries were whole buildings full of books that you could go to and learn stuff (at this point I will contemplate breaking down catalog cards and the DeweyDecimal system but realize that I have already blown their minds enough).

It is pretty amazing to see how much things can change in a relatively short amount of time.  There is no longer any tolerance for not knowing something because the internet lives in your pocket or in the computer in your house somewhere.  There is no more wondering what movie or show you recognize that actress from or having to find a newspaper to see when a movie is playing (funny, one day I will probably have to explain what a newspaper was too).  The internet is super sweet.  They may have been amazing to us as kids but my parent’s stories about when Coke only cost a nickel kind of pale in comparison to the stories we will tell our children about giant phones attached to buildings that you would have to put money in to use.   Sure there is a lot about the internet that isn’t perfect but something that puts the 1989 Heisman trophy winner, a recipe for buffalo chicken dip, and adorable cat videos right at your fingertips is pretty sweet.  Even sweet enough to tolerate the new Facebook.  if you have small kids, what do you think will blow them away the most when you tell them about how their parents grew up in the olden days?

Weak

Grandparent Names 

I promise I am not trying to make fun of  baby boomers any particular generation, but do you remember when we called our grandparents grandma or grandpa or some close variation of those terms?  As a parent of young children with lots of friends in the same boat I have made an observation that there are fewer and fewer grandmas and more and more Nanas and Mimis and Yayas etc.  I don’t want to come off critical but it is kind of a funny observation.  Our parent’s generation is incredibly youthful and all of the new grandparent terms fit them well.  I wonder though, is this just something I see in my circle of friends or are we going to have to change the words to that “over the river and through the woods” song.  If you have kids, what do they call their grandparents?  This may not really be something that is weak but I have already kind of trapped myself into this format so there you go.

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September 20, 2011

The Half Beard

By Simon

Sweet

Getting out of the door on time. 

This post may be more understandable to parents with small children but I are one and someone said you should write what you know.  I don’t know why it is but getting the four members of my family dressed, ready (with shoes on) and out the door in time has consistently become one of the greatest challenges we have ever faced.  It doesn’t seem to matter how early we start putting the wheels in motion to get out the door, inevitably, we will be 10 minutes away from departure and I am stepping into the shower, we are tearing the house apart looking for a shoe, the baby is crying, and we are packing a diaper bag. (Wife just read “we” and is rolling eyes noting that the first part of that list was me in the shower, missing all of the whirlwind.)  Not only do those last ten minutes cause escalating blood pressures and strain to the bonds of the parental team, but it also takes a once clean house and destroys it.  I can say on several occasions once we are finally all in the car we back out of the garage (and then pull back in so one of us can sprint up the stairs and grab the bottles out of the fridge that we forgot) that sigh of relief is instantly coupled with the dread of returning to an aftermath that some would declare a state of emergency.  It is those moments when you have to get 5 miles down the road before anyone dare say a word that make the times that you hit the sweet spot even better.

Every now and then the planets align (translation, dad thinks ahead and realizes 30 minutes isn’t an eternity) and we make it to the car at a leisurely pace with time to spare and realize that it is in fact possible.  Everyone is in a happy mood and there is no disaster relief project waiting for us when we return.  Shoes miraculously were both in the same place, sock seams cooperated, diaper bags were assembled early and dad managed to make a sound wardrobe selection.  Those times are so sweet I should really try to do my part to make them happen more often.  Getting out of the door on time is one of those great moments in parenting (glad my 20-year-old self isn’t reading this and seeing how lame he turned out to be.)  Cherish those moments parents and bask in the sweetness when it occurs because your kid shouldn’t be afraid to ask if you want to play “I spy” before you have backed out of the driveway.

 

Weak

The Half Beard 

I notice that there is a developing pattern of self-deprecation happening here but I am an easy target.  I am one of those guys that uses an electric razor in the car.  I know, I know but seriously, it is a great time saver.  That is, however, until the time when mid shave the battery breathes its last breath and grinds to a halt leaving you with a half beard.  I am not talking about a beard that is only half way towards reaching glorious full beard status, I am talking about left side of face like a baby’s bottom, right side like a lumberjack.  That is a look that is kind of hard to pull off.  There isn’t really any way to hide your lack of planning when you are standing in line at the gas station rocking your half beard with a disposable razor and tiny can of shaving cream that is going to cost you 8 bucks in hand.  So you shell out your hard-earned cash for a disposable razor and wonder if you just bought the last one on earth that doesn’t have 17 blades built-in.  You say a little prayer of thanks that since you are about to rough it and shave with only one blade like you are a pioneer at least it will only be on half of your face.  You get to your place of employment and b-line to the bathroom hoping your boss doesn’t walk in while you are trying to stop the bleeding.  Technology is great but it is funny how dependent we can become on it.  So charge your battery or wake up 5 minutes earlier and cut out the risk of rocking the half beard because that knowing look from the guy at the gas station is totally weak.

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September 16, 2011

Is that what you are wearing?

By Simon

Sweet

Finishing a book 

I don’t have a lot of time to read these days so on the off-chance I do actually make it to the end of the book I feel like there should be some kind of award at the end.  Do you feel the same need to tell someone that you finished a book?  I obviously am not well read enough.  I will admit to having a short attention span, I will routinely get distracted on the most menial of tasks.  Translation – “Honey why is the washing machine running with no clothes in it?”  I tend to start lots of things and have lots of ideas but sometimes struggle a bit with the follow through.  I mean if the over/under on the longevity of this blog being maintained was set at 3 months I would probably take the under and I am the one that writes it.  That may be why I was particularly satisfied with myself to finish a book this week.  There are 3 books that I was currently reading and let’s be honest, the other two are probably not going to be finished.  A particularly interesting observation of my recent literary conquest is that I read almost the entire book on my phone.  I would find time putting the baby to sleep, waiting at the doctor’s office, on important conference calls to read a bit here and there.  The funny thing about reading a book on your phone is that (Dear mom, I will call you and explain how this is possible) you don’t realize how close you are to the end.  There are no dog-eared pages or realizing you are only 20 pages away.  I just read along until BAM it was over.  I realize that this is starting to sound like some case study in a freshman psychology text-book.   The point is, it feels great to complete something.  So, if you have just finished a book, good job buddy! (I just googled if it was OK to start a sentence with the word so.)  Where was I?  Oh yeah, finishing a book, totally sweet.

Weak

Is that what you are wearing? 

You know there was a time in my life that I not only had the ability to dictate my own wardrobe choices but also was effective enough in those decisions that I was deemed attractive enough by someone to decide to spend the rest of her life with me.  Not that my wife married me because of my tight rolling talents or the ability to curl the laces of those old bass shoes everyone used to wear.  Somewhere though, over the last 10 years of marriage either my cutting edge sense of style has dulled or my wife’s confidence in my wardrobe selections has diminished.  I am embarrassed to admit that I have on more than one occasion gotten that judgmental eye from her prior to going somewhere and jumped back into the closet to put on a different shirt.  This is not an everyday occurrence and it isn’t as if she has hung one of those “days of the week closet organizers” so she can plan my outfits.  Sadly though, I have been on the receiving end of the question “Is that what you are wearing?”  “Uh…….no, I just put this on after my shower to wear while I decided what I was going to wear.”   Is it possible that I am the only one that this has ever happened to?  It isn’t like I am trying to leave the house wearing socks and sandals or one of those “Big Johnson” T-shirts.  I do realize that my wife enjoys me being her arm candy while we are out in public but the wardrobe judgment is a bit emasculating.  There is a better way to do this ladies, (assuming that this happens to more than just me) all guys are total suckers for compliments and ego boosts, so the next time he walks out of the closet with a Hawaiian shirt and a fanny pack, don’t crush his ego.  Just tell him you were hoping he was going to wear that one shirt because you love the way it looks on him.  We will never even realize that you thought we looked like an idiot in our original selection, we will be too busy feeling like a stud in that shirt you love.

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September 14, 2011

Holy Grail of the Grocery Store

By Simon

Sweet

Finding it

I don’t know if you are like me but anytime I am at the grocery store there is part of me that is captain domestic; checking things off a list, coordinating meal plans, watching prices, etc. and a part of me that is a conquistador on a quest for the jewel of the dairy section. I scan the rows of milk jugs. Sept. 25? No way, they all say that. So I crouch down and notice a row near the bottom, Sept. 29? Better but still not the prize I am after. I reach in and maneuver gallons from the back row tipping them just enough to see the date and then I find it. Oct. 4! JACKPOT! Finding the freshest gallon of milk is a legitimate win and I have more then once gotten a knowing nod from an onlooker as they see me stretching to the back row of the milk shelf in hopes of making the find.

I may have had some bad milk as a kid but I take those dates pretty seriously. In general I am not touching that stuff within 2-3 days of the date stamped on the jug. You may scoff at that and argue that the date on the jug is when it should be sold by. You go right ahead and pour a glass of your milk as it sits on the cusp of spoiling but know that your courage is not admired by me. You are taking an unnecessary risk my friend, and the amount of chocolate or cereal you put in there still doesn’t make it fresh.

Weak

Every house on “House Hunters International” that isn’t in Costa Rica.

I may lose a couple of readers here (which would be roughly 40%) due to what some may see as a bloated entitled American point of view, but I can’t take seeing people so excited that there is a washing machine in their closet sized kitchen that is capable of washing 2-3 whole garments. If you aren’t familiar with the show, you obviously lead a much more exciting life than I do and I should probably be reading your blog about wild adventures and drunken shenanigans. The basic premise is that someone is buying a new house, they look at three and then pick one. Sounds simple and dumb but it is one of those things that sucks you in like a Jedi tractor beam. I guess the positive spin here is that I am grateful to live in what I believe to be the greatest country on earth. One in which it is customary for a home priced over half a million dollars to have ceilings you don’t have to duck under and a bathroom that comes with a shower or tub. I am thankful for those things but when I watch this show my first reaction is often….Seriously?!? It is hard to believe that people really do live in those tiny spaces that IKEA has in their showroom. American couples are always complaining about things like the stainless steal appliances not being shiny enough or the crystal chandelier being out-dated. On the international version they seem to deal with somewhat larger issues like, is it safe that the bed is suspended over the stove to save space? having your pillow smell like a pot of spaghetti sauce is pretty weak.

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