Well, another weekend has come and gone, and I'm left wondering why the weekdays never seem to fly by as quickly as the weekends do. Perhaps it's because we tend to pack way to much stuff into a weekend. But, if you know us, we tend to pack way to much stuff into every day of the week, not just the weekends.
This weekend was a little different than usual, because it was time for our annual visit from our dear friends from Connecticut, Diego and Dana. Diego is a youth pastor at New River Church outside of Hartford (sorry, Diego, I can't remember the town name right now), and he always brings a couple of his kids down to visit Messiah during the weekend of the Messiah Youth Worker's Conference. This year was particulary eventful because Diego brought his lovely wife Dana and his two adorable children, Hanna and Josiah. Unfortunately, Josiah picked up a bit of a bug on the way down, which apparently made their trip a bit more eventful than desired, but that's a whole other story.
We had a great time visiting with them, when we weren't busying ourselves with church responsibilities and fun with the college group. But it only reminded me of how much I wish these guys lived a little closer. Diego is one of those guys that you just can't help but be instant friends with, and I know that if we didn't have the geographical distance between us, we'd probably find ourself in some unique, and likely hilarious situations. But more than that, Diego is one of maybe two guys that I've ever been able to truly bear my soul with, and who have trusted me eough to bear their soul to. I covet that type of relationship in my life.
Whoa, got a little off track there. Sorry about that. Back to the point. As this week has dragged on and on and on, I find myself wishing against hope that there was a way to slow down the weekends. Something tells me this weekend is going to go by just as qucikly. Ugh!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
My first Wegman's trip
After bowling this evening, I made my way down the road to our one and only Wegman's grocery store. To date, I've never been inside one, but I've heard the stories, legends and lore. However, I felt confident that I could tackle the challenge of making my way through the store flying solo.
That, of course, was my first mistake. However, since there were no Sherpas available, I had no recourse but to continue on my journey alone. Sure, along the way I viewed other pilgrims, attempting to acquire supplies to survive the trek through the long and winding aisles. I felt pity for the random lone travelers like myself who were clearly overwhelmed and out of their element.
My second mistake was going in with the intent of purchasing one specific item. For not only are there a variety of temptations around every corner, but being unfamiliar with the terrain, I quickly found myself in uncharted waters, unable to find my desired quarry. Desperately I searched for a guide, a St. Bernard, anything to lead me to my destination, only to find myself deeper and deeper in the labyrinth of the belly of the store.
Finally, when hope seemed lost, I happened upon a trail, a glimmer of light in the otherwise darkened recesses of packaged meats. It was here where I was able to complete my goal of picking up a package of frozen hamburgers. Victory was mine!
With a sense of relief washing over me, I turned to make my trek back to the front of the store where the checkout lines stood like guardians at the gate. Through the twists and turns, I ventured deeper into the belly of the beast, knowing that my trek was soon coming to an end. Finally, as I rounded the last turn around the fresh fruits, I saw it. The 15 items or less lane, it's number 20 shining like a beacon in the night. Fighting the urge to drop to my knees and weep with relief, I boldly approached the lane sentry, handed him the fruit of my labor, offered the required compensation for my prize, and quickly made my escape.
With this experience now behind me, I will be sure to properly arm myself with a compass, canteen, emergency flares, and other survival gear before I make my return trip to Wegmans.
That, of course, was my first mistake. However, since there were no Sherpas available, I had no recourse but to continue on my journey alone. Sure, along the way I viewed other pilgrims, attempting to acquire supplies to survive the trek through the long and winding aisles. I felt pity for the random lone travelers like myself who were clearly overwhelmed and out of their element.
My second mistake was going in with the intent of purchasing one specific item. For not only are there a variety of temptations around every corner, but being unfamiliar with the terrain, I quickly found myself in uncharted waters, unable to find my desired quarry. Desperately I searched for a guide, a St. Bernard, anything to lead me to my destination, only to find myself deeper and deeper in the labyrinth of the belly of the store.
Finally, when hope seemed lost, I happened upon a trail, a glimmer of light in the otherwise darkened recesses of packaged meats. It was here where I was able to complete my goal of picking up a package of frozen hamburgers. Victory was mine!
With a sense of relief washing over me, I turned to make my trek back to the front of the store where the checkout lines stood like guardians at the gate. Through the twists and turns, I ventured deeper into the belly of the beast, knowing that my trek was soon coming to an end. Finally, as I rounded the last turn around the fresh fruits, I saw it. The 15 items or less lane, it's number 20 shining like a beacon in the night. Fighting the urge to drop to my knees and weep with relief, I boldly approached the lane sentry, handed him the fruit of my labor, offered the required compensation for my prize, and quickly made my escape.
With this experience now behind me, I will be sure to properly arm myself with a compass, canteen, emergency flares, and other survival gear before I make my return trip to Wegmans.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Recent Random Thoughts
Some random thoughts that have crossed my mind lately…
I learned earlier this week that you can bowl with two broken toes. It’s not something I recommend, but it can be done – depending on which toes are broken. Keep in mind that I didn’t say you can bowl well with two broken toes.
Am I the only person who thinks the orange furry Hunger creature from the Weight Watchers commercials looks like the illegitimate love child of Gossamer (the Red Hairy Monster from the Bugs Bunny cartoons)?
that thought sparked a recent conversation on a very important subject. Saturday morning cartoons have not been the same since Looney Toons left the lineup. There is a whole generation of children growing up without knowing Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Elmer Fudd, Marvin The Martian, Tazmanian Devil, etc., and that is just criminal in my opinion.
A few years ago, I became addicted to Red Fusion pop (or soda for those of you who don’t speak Pittsburghese). My best description of it was that it tasted like cherry-flavored Dr. Pepper. Well, recently, I sampled a Cherry Dr. Pepper, and it was the exact same taste as Red Fusion. So now I anticipate becoming addicted to Cherry Dr. Pepper.
Nathan Fillion may be one of the most underrated actors in Hollywood. He’s just had the misfortune of being in shows that TV execs give up on way too soon – “Firefly” and “Two Guys, A Girl and a Pizza Place” quickly come to mind – but he stole the show during his multi-story arc on “Buffy The Vampire Slayer.” His new show “Castle” debuted on ABC last night as a mid-season/summer replacement, which means ABS isn’t banking on it for the long haul. But the show was really good, and deserves an audience. I’m hoping ABC makes an effort to give this one a chance to succeed.
Is there any better show on TV right now than NCIS? Even the re-runs are better than 90% of what’s on today. Although this season of 24 has been the best since Season 1, but NCIS is still #1.
I really wish I knew what I wanted to be when I grow up. Actually, I kinda know what I would like to do, but I can no longer afford the likely pay cut that would accompany any attempts to make that change. I’m not sure what bothers me more, having no clear direction, or feeling like a slave to my job.
I will admit I watch very little college basketball during the season (except for when I can catch a Pitt game on TV). However, I, like millions of others, will fill out numerous brackets with little or no actual knowledge of the teams other than their rankings and records. I’d love to pick Pitt to win it all, but I just can’t. Prove me wrong, Panthers!
One thing I don’t like about March Madness is the incessant need to turn everything into a tournament this time of the year. One of the XM comedy stations is doing “March Laugh-ness” where they’ve ranked 64 comedians, and are having listeners call in and vote for a winner of each match-up (#4 seed Jeff Dunham goes up against #13 seed Bob Saget – can Bob pull off the upset?!?!?). I saw on Cartoon Network within the last few years a “Cartoon Madness” bracket thing where different cartoon characters were matched up against each other (#8 Scooby-Doo faces off against #9 Astro). Pop Culture and Media Idiocy run amuck!
Saturday, March 7, 2009
On the Sideline for Now
Well, It appears my running / ellipping / biking revival will have to wait a little while longer. Thursday morning, as the love of my life was preparing to leave for school, she wakes me up in a mild panic, unable to find her textbook for her class later that evening. Being the dutiful husband, I get out of bed to help her look for it, even though I have no idea where she put it the night before. I make my way downstairs, look around the dining room table, where I saw it the night before, to no avail. I go back upstairs, thinking that perhaps I did move it with some other items (knowing that I didn't, but unable to be 100% certain in my just-waking-up stupor). Same result. So I decide to go back downstairs to do a more thorough search.
This is where my trouble began. I've learned one thing in our 'new' home over the last 18 months: bare feet on our carpeted steps is a recipe for disaster, especially if you're not paying attention. sure enough, I hit the first step, and my foot slips out from under me. I go tumbling down the stairs, and in the process, my right foot flies into one of the upright posts on our railing, catching me between my 4th and 5th toe. I hit the landing in a heap, my foot now trobbing, my back and shoulders quite sore. As I crumble, the love of my life remains at the top of the steps, asking "what did your do?"
Managing as much restraint as I could, I say nothing, figuring if watchig me fall down the stairs (which she did) does not answer the question, nothing I say is going to make the situation better. I take a few seconds to collect myself and make my way down the rest of the stairs. Now, each step I take is a new experience in pain at this point, and I look down to see my little toe jutting out at a somewhat unnatural angle. Doesn't take an MD to know that it was broken. But I carry on, and find her book sitting on top of a box of stamping stuff in the corner of the dining room!
So, book search aside, my toe is now broken and black and blue and not a lot of fun to keep inside socks and shoes all day. I don't know how long a broken toe takes to heal, but unless it's be the end of the weekend, it's not fast enough!.
This is where my trouble began. I've learned one thing in our 'new' home over the last 18 months: bare feet on our carpeted steps is a recipe for disaster, especially if you're not paying attention. sure enough, I hit the first step, and my foot slips out from under me. I go tumbling down the stairs, and in the process, my right foot flies into one of the upright posts on our railing, catching me between my 4th and 5th toe. I hit the landing in a heap, my foot now trobbing, my back and shoulders quite sore. As I crumble, the love of my life remains at the top of the steps, asking "what did your do?"
Managing as much restraint as I could, I say nothing, figuring if watchig me fall down the stairs (which she did) does not answer the question, nothing I say is going to make the situation better. I take a few seconds to collect myself and make my way down the rest of the stairs. Now, each step I take is a new experience in pain at this point, and I look down to see my little toe jutting out at a somewhat unnatural angle. Doesn't take an MD to know that it was broken. But I carry on, and find her book sitting on top of a box of stamping stuff in the corner of the dining room!
So, book search aside, my toe is now broken and black and blue and not a lot of fun to keep inside socks and shoes all day. I don't know how long a broken toe takes to heal, but unless it's be the end of the weekend, it's not fast enough!.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Trying It Again
With the softball season fast approaching, and just a general need to really bear down on my fitness level, I'm trying to get back to the gym and see if I can get myself going again. So today I ventured up the road to Planet Fitness and hit the elliptical machine. My knee is sore due to a drastic snow-tubing accident last night (he says tongue firmly planted in cheek - but I do have a bruise on my kneecap resulting from a collision on the slope with an ice protrusion from the side of the lane), so I didn't want to push it too hard. I jumped on the machine, set the time for 20 minutes and started ellipping.
I made it a point not to look at the time, covering the elapsed time clock with my towel, and focused on my speed and distance covered. When I hit a mile, I pulled the towel away and discovered that I had 'run' a mile in 9:53 seconds. I was encouraged that I was able to go at a sub-10:00 pace having not done anything like this in over a month. I covered up the clock and kept going, figuring that I'd be lucky to hit 2 miles before my 20 minutes was up.
When I got to 2 miles, I was surprised that I didn't hear the machine beep, indicating the end of my time. I figured I had missed it since I had my iPod on (I believe Lady Antebellum was playing at the time). So I pulled my towel away, only to see the elapsed time read 19:32. Somewhat shocked, I did some quick math and realized that I had run the second mile faster than the first, by some 28 seconds. Not a huge margin, I realize. But it was the first time in a long time that my second mile was faster than my first mile. Small victories, right!
So, the jury's still out on whether or not I can keep this up. It's going to take some creative time-management to do so, but we'll see what we can do.
I made it a point not to look at the time, covering the elapsed time clock with my towel, and focused on my speed and distance covered. When I hit a mile, I pulled the towel away and discovered that I had 'run' a mile in 9:53 seconds. I was encouraged that I was able to go at a sub-10:00 pace having not done anything like this in over a month. I covered up the clock and kept going, figuring that I'd be lucky to hit 2 miles before my 20 minutes was up.
When I got to 2 miles, I was surprised that I didn't hear the machine beep, indicating the end of my time. I figured I had missed it since I had my iPod on (I believe Lady Antebellum was playing at the time). So I pulled my towel away, only to see the elapsed time read 19:32. Somewhat shocked, I did some quick math and realized that I had run the second mile faster than the first, by some 28 seconds. Not a huge margin, I realize. But it was the first time in a long time that my second mile was faster than my first mile. Small victories, right!
So, the jury's still out on whether or not I can keep this up. It's going to take some creative time-management to do so, but we'll see what we can do.
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