Winter Fun

The old saying, "Be careful what you wish for, because you might just get it," is appropriate for me this winter.  I was hoping for some early chilly temperatures so that I could get an ice rink built in my backyard.  When the right time came - a reasonably mild day followed by four days of well-below freezing temperatures - I hastily put it together.

I learned a few things, some from advice that I didn't take.  Not that I was stubborn or felt smarter than the advice-givers, but rather that I realized I needed to hurry to beat the oncoming freeze, so I took a couple shortcuts. They were:

1. I didn't affix the boards to each other.
2. I didn't lay the tarp as tight against the boards as I had hoped to, in part because of #1
3. I tried at first to use cheap tarp, and thankfully soon realized I needed something better
4. I didn't measure exactly the slope of our back yard
5. I didn't buy Rebar as my main type of support stake initially

Not too bad, as it turned out, but the errors above made the project cost a little extra and take a little extra time, but it was fun, and sometimes you just have to learn your lessons yourself.

As for being careful what I wish for, the rink has so far seen limited action, because the "early winter" has brought a lot of snowy days and too-cold-to-skate days for the little Mites in our family.  But it's been a blast so far, and a hit with others as well.

Lastly, my sons' skating and playing skills have improved dramatically.  They may last longer in the sport of hockey than I originally speculated. One thing I've read about practice time seems to be true: small areas for hockey practice are ideal for learning the game.  Our rink is 22' x 32', which is good for their ages, but will likely have to increase slightly for next year's version.

One unexpected pleasure of the rink: the homemade, hand-held Zamboni is a lot of fun to use!

One-chord Pop Songs

One of the tenets of pop songs is the repetition.  I love a good four-chord song.  Three chords and the truth works for me, too.  Even two-chord songs are OK. (Paul McCartney's Helen Wheels comes to mind, as does a song by my oldest son's band, Void in Reality, called Matchbook, coming soon to iTunes.)

I can't, however, handle one-chord songs for more than a minute.  

Tonight, as I cuddled with my eight-year-old at bedtime, The Guess Who's American Woman came on the radio.  I like the guitar riff and Burton Cummings' vocals.  For about a minute.  Maybe less.

Then it's like nails on a chalkboard. While chewing on aluminum foil.

No, it's more like your older brother holding your head under water (I presume, not having had an older brother).

It's like a claustrophobic being locked in a dark box, I would imagine, beyond a minute.

What I'm trying to say is that it is more than just a pet peeve. I get quite irritated, physically even.

Yeah, OK, technically it's not just one chord.  I believe it's actually three.  But you would never know just by listening to the music track. And maybe that's why it hurts to listen to.  The exact same riff over and over and over, even while the chords are supposedly changing.

Born in the USA is the same, but is an exception.  It's nowhere near my favorite Bruce Springsteen song, but I can handle it. Probably because the chord is played with variations throughout.

Paul McCartney's Old Siam, Sir is another.  Love it, for about a minute.  Then it starts to piss me off. It's E-minor the whole way, except for the guitar solos.

A goal of mine is to find, or write, a one-chord song that I truly enjoy. I might end up dying trying on that one.

Tooth-hurty 24/7

Last Halloween, while I took my boys out trick-or-treating, I sampled one of there Tootsie Rolls.  Or maybe it was Laffy Taffy. Whatever it was, it was one of those softer, chewy candies.  It was the last thing I expected to cause the pain I am in now.

Peanut Brittle, I'd understand.  Or a Gobstopper that I didn't have patience for.

Anyway, while I was chewing it, I felt some crunches that I knew didn't belong. They were from fragments of my lower back-left molar and its filling. Just a little less than half of both have been gone ever since.

Anything cold and/or hard has caused pain, so since then I've generally chewed with my right side.  It's odd that I learned from this that I actually prefer chewing on the left side.

Anyway, the day has come that I knew would eventually, and that is to say the pain is steady.  So it's time to go to the dentist.

I will be calling the dentist in the morning to make an appointment, and I hope that I can get in without waiting two weeks. I'd rather it not even be two more days of this, but I'm a realist.  Until I do get in, it will be popping my maximum 6 Ibuprofens  per day.

I'm ready to sheepishly admit to the dentist that I should have come in sooner. I just hope they don't tell me by doing so a year later I've caused more problems than what a simply cap, crown, or tooth pull would have fixed.

Until then, my clock has stopped at tooth-hurty.

Umpire passes away too young

I give professional umpires and other officials a hard time on my blog, but Wally Bell was a good one and a good man.  My sincere condolences to his family.

I am also moved by the fact that he died of a massive heart attack at age 48.  I'm 47 1/2, and just skipped a late-night session on my elliptical, to opt instead for watching baseball and downing two bowls of Lucky Charms.

The Dodgers-Cardinals game just ended. It's not too late to put in 15 minutes on the elliptical, so I'll go do that now.

A little Sunday BP

It was a gorgeous mid-October day in Minnesota today, so instead of watching the hapless Vikings (anyone who was "excited" about Cassell starting should, as I said even before his win against Pittsburgh, donate their brain to science), I hit softballs off a tee.

Today I did it a little differently from other days.  I typically find a field where the wind is favorable or at least neutral.  Today it was at a slight disadvantage, although it didn't blow more than 5 MPH for the most part.

Secondly, I practiced hitting the gap between left and center.  Normally, I practice pulling.  But from now on I will mostly be practicing the left-center gap.  Hit a line drive there, and it's a double.  Top it a little, and it still has a good chance of finding the hole in a five-man infield.

I got several past the 350' mark off the tee today, so that was definitely a good thing considering my choice not to pull.  Oh, and one more thing I did differently today was hit a lot more balls.  Four rounds of 30+ each.

Below is a picture of my left hand this evening, and yes I wear batting gloves. It's a good thing I don't bowl left-handed, because even though it's not my fingers that have blisters, a la The White Album, that one by the index finger might still sting even two days from today when I have league night, were I a lefty.

My wife thinks I'm crazy for taking BP off a tee when I won't be playing games again until next spring.  I doubt she thinks going to a golf dome in the winter is crazy.

I think should would agree that sitting through three hours of the Vikings is.

Update on John

I posted a while back about an old friend who was diagnosed with prostate cancer.  As he puts it, it was a 44 day roller coaster ride of his life being turned upside down and all around. Well, those are mostly my words; but he did say the entire process was 44 days.

Oh, what that means is from the time he was diagnosed to the time he was pronounced cancer-free, 44 days had passed.

Yep, cancer-free.  That's pretty cool.

Of course a lot of people were praying for him and now are thanking God.  I won't begrudge them for that. But I'm thankful for science and the people who use it.

Looking toward 2014

I've posted many things on this Blog in the past about resolutions, goals, plans, dreams, etc.  Many of them, if not most, I either did not follow through on, or let the momentum slip and reverted back.

Still, I'm naive enough at my age to already be looking toward what I consider my "offseason," which I loosely define as the time of year when I spend more time indoors.  Sure, I spend a lot of warm weather days filled with several hours of daylight indoors too, but my "offseason" is when I do better minding my weight, keeping my workout schedule, working toward goals, and such.

I'll try again to come up with some inspiring goals for the offseason and New Year as it approaches.  But one thing I am committed to is to try at least one thing, and hopefully more, well outside of my comfort zone. New, unique, exciting, and where failure is a very real and even scary possibility.

A few ideas:

1) Perform a set of stand-up comedy at an open stage.  I don't necessarily think I'm particularly funny, but I do find a lot of things funny every day, and the thought of putting a well-rehearsed act together to see if it resonates with others excites me.

2) Perform a musical set on an open stage.  I'm not a good enough guitarist to think that will impress anyone, but I pretty much perform for our two Westies at least every other night, and they don't seem to mind the singing.  Perhaps humans won't mind, either, and might even find it in their hearts to humor me with a nice golf clap at the end.

3) Bowl a major scratch tournament (or more).  I used to do this in my twenties, and failed miserably. Today, I have a different definition of failure, and thus should have no problem just doing it for my own joy of competing against others who are significantly better than I.  I've done this in golf tournaments and enjoyed it, so  bowling should really be no different.

4) Focus on a work project on my own, with no direction from upper management, on my own time, and not having anything to do with my day-to-day task management. My employer's annual Innovation challenge is too far underway to try that, but that doesn't mean I can't do my own personal challenge.

I'm not thinking too creatively right now, so I'll cut the list of possibilities at four.  But I want to get this documented, to put a little pressure on myself and not let my enthusiasm of the possibilities die.

I was in a management training course today, and one thing that stuck with me was a comment from another participant and former colleague of mine made a comment along the lines of, "My nature is to feel that if I'm not scared to death, I'm doing it wrong." I really want to pick her brain and see if I can develop that same trait.  I enjoy the nervous excitement of putting myself "out there," but not quite to the level of actually wanting to be scared.

Previous posts on my goals didn't seem to drive my motivation that much, but even at 47, I'm youthful enough to hope that this time will be different.

Twinkies again

In 1982, the Minnesota Twins had a line-up largely comprised of talented AAA players who were put into the Major Leagues in sort of a trial-by-fire.  They showed a lot of pop in their bats and other forms of promise, but still lost 102 games. One of the young players was Tom Brunansky, who hit 20 home runs and struck out 102 times, while batting .272.

Pretty respectable with a lot of upside.

This year's version of a AAA team in Minneapolis is going to finish with fewer than 100 losses, and similarly show some promise and pop in their bats.  "Bruno" is their hitting coach, which would seem to be the right kind of guy to bring these guys to a true Major League level (as Bert Blyleven might say, several times each evening).

The two troubling differences this year are:

1) Many of this year's "AAA" players are not 21-22 years old like the '82 squad
2) This years squad has struck out 1369 times through 157 games, compared with 887 for the whole 1982 season

That's a concerning number, and while it's too soon to tell, it concerns me that perhaps Bruno isn't the guy for the job.  They aren't just striking out a lot; they are doing it ugly. Cookies taken for called strike three. Ugly attempts at check swings on pitches two feet from the strike zone. Swinging horribly late on fastballs.

And worst of all, missing perfectly grooved fastballs by more than an inch or two.

That's about 8.5 strikeouts per game.  That means the average starting pitcher they face would be on pace to strikeout well over 200 batters in a season just by facing the Twins.  Average. And unlike the 1982 Twins, there's not one 20 home run hitter in the bunch this year.

Bruno probably deserves a second year, but I can't help but think they aren't learning much from him.

The joke in '82 was that the Twins set an all-time home attendance record for a AAA club.  This year's club has shattered that mark as well, but no one is laughing.

Fortified Candy Bars redux

I mentioned my favorite protein bar in a post earlier this year.  I take them traveling, so I packed some for my trip to the USSSA Worlds in Orlando, FL last weekend.  Never mind how we did, I'm here to write about the protein bars.

When I ran out of the bars I brought, I picked up some more at the Publix in Kissimmee.  Or maybe it was the Walmart.  No, I think it was Publix.

Anyway, I noticed it seemed to have a much darker color than I was used to, and was dryer and tougher to chew. I'm guessing it was closer to the expiration date than what I had been used to.

When I came back, I remembered a similar experience when I bought some of those bars on clearance at the local GNC a couple weeks ago.  Lo and behold, I found the wrapper to one of those.  The photos below show the wrapper of the "clearance" bar, and the freshly-opened bar I just purchased at the local Walmart earlier this week.

The difference in freshness was obvious.  I wish I could show you how the older bar looked. (Well, "wish" is putting it a bit strong; "would like to but can't" is more accurate.) Their expiration dates, excuse me, "sell by" dates, are a year apart.

I saw a teaser on CBS This Morning about sell-by, use-by, or make-banana-bread-by dates and what they really mean, if anything (teasing an old bit, apparently).  I didn't get the least bit ill from eating the old bar, but eating it was nowhere near as enjoyable as the fresh one I bought this week.

Generally speaking,  that is what companies will tell you the dates are meant for.  You don't have to pour out that expired-yesterday milk (sniff it first), nor the bread (check for mold, though), or toss out that MetRx bar.  Just don't blame the company if it isn't as good as you expected.

Uncle Rico has nothing on me

"Coach woulda put me in fourth quarter, we would've been state champions. No doubt. No doubt in my mind."
-Uncle Rico, in Napoleon Dynamite


If you've seen the movie, you get the to recognize the reference to Uncle Rico filming himself throwing football passes against an imaginary defense, then watching it later for his own entertainment, sure that he was destined for greatness were it not for the lack of ability in his high school coach to recognize the greatness.

Had Uncle Rico played slowpitch softball, he might be the kind of guy Jim Rome ranted about in his Softball Guy bit. Closer to Rome's Softball Guy was yours truly, at least to some degree, many years ago.  Perhaps today I am still about 10% of Softball Guy, as I still try to prove something to myself, that being that had I not skipped a grade, and had Little League moved the birthday cutoff from August 1 to May 1 much sooner than they did (my birthday is May 3), I might have at least had a chance to play varsity baseball and at some level in college.

I don't think I would have been Derek Jeter in the World Series, but I did work hard in my adult years to prove that I could become a decent player, even if only at the slowpitch level.  So even at 47, I take practice and workouts very seriously, trying to improve despite Father Time being against me.

Below is a video I took of myself hitting softballs off a tee, not to reflect on mythical "Glory Days," but to analyze, critique, and improve from.  This clip is from a shot that went about 350 feet, not wind-aided, and with regulation equipment.  I've hit a few in the same conditions up to 390 feet, which is nice, except timing a pitch, even a slow pitch, makes those types of shots less frequent.

This week, my team travels to Florida for the USSSA Class D Worlds Tournament, where no home runs are allowed.  So I'll have to work on keeping the ball down and placing it. But I still include trying to hit the ball as far as I can in my workout regimen, because just as with lifting weights or running competitively, if you want objective feedback, you ave to be able to measure it somehow. 

While I'd rather be playing at a level where home runs are allowed and not have to try so hard to keep the ball in the park, at my age, just playing with younger guys who did get to play varsity, even some college, and having them actually want me as part of the time, is rewarding enough. It's also a great tune-up for the competitive senior "circuit," which is just a few seasons away.

Why, when I lose my car keys, I blame pro wrestling

I happened to flip the TV to some pro wrestling the other day, and watched about 5 minutes of it out of curiosity.  For a guy who once was obsessed with Verne Gagne's All-Star Wrestling as a kid,  I wonder why I just can't be bothered by it anymore.

I'd rather Google and YouTube old stories and clips of old-school wrestling. The other night, I found myself reading up on some of the more tragic tales of wrestling, such as the alarming amount of wrestlers who die young, and some individual stories, like Buck Zum Hofe and his problems.

Then there was the story of Verne himself, about how he killed a fellow nursing home resident, without knowing what he had done because of his dementia. A little more Googling and I found stories of old-time wrestlers suffering from Alzheimer's-like conditions.  I can't help but think that's a trend that won't go away.

The old-school wrestlers didn't take nearly as many bumps as those today, and the chair-shots of yesteryear were pulled quite a bit by the givers - not the case at all today.  But the old-schoolers wrestled on more nights, and many had longer-lasting careers.

It got me to worry a little.  I took some bumps in my day.  Having wrestled for about 1 1/2 years, plus all of the training, it's probably over a thousand.  My trainer, in my opinion, made us take too many bumps at workout.  I learned to take a good back bump; it bothered me that he'd make us go through a bunch in each session.  I was quite good at not hitting my head on the mat from a back bump, yet I left many a workout with a headache.

I've also suffered two non-diagnosed concussions in my youth.  How do I know they were concussions if they were non-diagnosed? Well, one of them because I nearly lost consciousness, and the other because I actually did.  I also took a nap right after the latter, not knowing then that this is the last thing you want to do after getting knocked out. A quick Google search confirms that these qualify as concussions, despite the nasty argument my ex-wife once drew me into because I had the audacity to claim that I knew these were concussions despite not having seen a doctor in either case.

But I digress. The point of all this is that someday I may indeed suffer from dementia or Alzheimer's-like symptoms, or Alzheimer's itself.  My 95-year-old grandmother doesn't recognize me, and my 99-year-old grandfather's mind was clearly deteriorating over his last few years.

Whether that process will happen to me, and whether it will happen at a younger age because of the concussions and head-bumps, I do not know.  I guess I'm hoping it's like smoking, where a couple of years of smoking over the course of a lifetime probably isn't going to kill you young.

But every now and then, when I have a "senior moment" at my age of 47, the thought does occur.

My Friend John and the Big C

I just found out that an old friend of mine has prostatic adenocarcinoma. Prostate cancer.  He is about a year and a half younger than I. It's an aggressive form, no less.

He is a man of faith, and many friends on his Facebook page have sent him prayers and other faith-related well-wishes.  I haven't yet, not being particularly religious myself.

That's a lie. I'm not religious at all.

I'm sure I'll find a way to tell him I'm thinking of him and of course want him to beat this thing.  But I can't bring myself to offer prayers.

One thing about John: if he said he was going to do something, he'd do it. I may not have his faith, but I certainly wouldn't bet against him. 

Nice Work if You Can Get it

Since I barely blog once a month anymore, it's pretty pathetic that I took the time to come up with this one. More pathetic than the subject of the post, for sure, but oh well.

It's time to rip on MLB umpires again.  The Twins lost to the Marlins fair and square tonight, but the game ended on a strike three call on this pitch.

Yes, the pitcher is a side-arm thrower, and so the ball moves right-to-left as it heads toward the catcher. But even the Fox Track indicator showed this pitch to be every bit that much outside.

People sure like to make meteorologists the butt of old, lame jokes about having a job where you can be wrong half the time.  I find the science to be quite impressively accurate.

My joke would be about MLB umpires, who can be wrong an incredible amount of the time, get away with claiming to be accurate 98% of the time (a joke itself), and still keep their jobs.

I don't know how home plate umpire Dan Bellino kicked this call.  And to have the nerve to shake his head at the batter who questioned the call afterward is laughable as well.

Old Man Slowpitch

My cousin asked me this year if I wanted to play softball with him one night a week.  He's 16 years younger than I, plays 4 nights a week plus weekend tournaments. 

I remember those days. Three nights a week plus weekends.  The final year in which I did that much I was 35, but already playing a little less on weekends.  My body was more achy the mornings after than when I was 25 for sure.

Then I got married again, had two more kids, went to law school in the evenings, and started playing more golf for my summer fun. Now my youngest kids are in sports, I'm coaching two nights a week (plus on the side in the yard), my personal activity of choice in the non-golf season has been bowling, and my 47 year-old body is even more achy the morning after softball.

So of course, when he asked, I told my cousin I'd play. 

So far, so good.  I've still got the pop, if not the consistency.  But I'm starting to work on it again.

It will mean less golf, which is great on the pocketbook. And it will also mean finally getting to play in the one tournament I've been wanting to play in for 25 years, "The Dudley." We may go two-and-out, but at least I'll have something else to scratch off of the bucket list.

And then it will be back to retirement from softball.  Or so I say.  The right 50-and-over team might be hard for me to turn down in three years.

2013 USBC Open Championship

It's 5:01 AM PDT, and I'm in my room at the Sands Regency in Reno, Nevada, logged in to look at work emails for the bargain price of $12.99.

That's for the WiFi, not the room.  The room was a nice $32 even after taxes, but I only stayed the one night, because the Friday and Saturday night rates were much higher.  So I opted for the cheaper, in every meaning of the word, Motel 6 for the first two nights of my trip.

After getting about 3 hours of low-quality sleep, thinking about having to pack, check out, check in for my flight, and return the rental car, I decided that as long as I'm going to get poor sleep, no sleep can't be much worse, and perhaps I'll get a few productive things done. So I went through my "urgent" work e-mails and other tasks, but not until after reconsidering what items I consider "urgent" from my hotel room at 5:01 on my day off.

I figured I might as well instead blog about the Open Championship bowling tournament I just completed, my third now, and best so far ('though still not quite where I want to be). I will get some money back, although certainly not enough to pay for next year's entry fee again. I just about broke even in the brackets department; a 136 to start doubles kept it from being profitable.

Before I post the scores, here are the top good and bad takeaways from this year:

- I'm getting better at reading lanes.  I just need to do them more quickly.
- I also need to know my equipment better as far as what each ball will do in comparison to each other.
- Spare shooting still needs improvement.  This will be, and I mean it this time (no, really I do), a top priority over the summer and next year.
- Another priority will be to work on hand positions at release.
- As much fun as I had this year, being on a team of ten guys who are all on the same "page" will be a goal of mine. Next year would be nice, but it may take more time than that.
- Consistent with what I think about my league bowling, I need to better focus in the earlier frames of my games.

To that last point, consider these stats for my nine games:

Open Frames: 18
Open Frames after the 5th frame: 7
Of the 7 open frames, amount in the 136 game: 3
Of the 7 open frames, number in the 11th frame (and thus, not critical): 2

So except for the 136, I'm pleased with how I was able to "hunker down" to get the most of my games despite some rough starts. I was also generally pleased with my ability to focus on most of my shots.  The goal of course is 100%...someday.

OK, enough geek stuff, here's the image of every game, frame-by-frame, from the opening nerve-induced three-count (which I converted), to the closing missed spare, that even though I just got done saying wasn't critical, it did cost me $7.50 in brackets, as I ended up tying one of them.

One thing I can't figure out: An asterisk on the sheet means it was a split. So why, in game two of my singles event, is there an asterisk before my strike in the tenth frame? Perhaps readers from the bowling community can help me out with that.

Bowling balls and fortified candy bars

My equpiment is all set, and the latest changes to my game are in place, so all that is left is the packing and anticipation. I look for a much better USBC Open Championship than last year's debacle in Baton Rouge. Team event is Saturday the 27th; S&D on Sunday.

Yes, I've bought new equipment before.  Yes, I've made changes to my game before.  So I will not post on those until after I return from Reno.

I'm munching on a MetRX protein bar right now, and will be packing plenty for my trip. I'm trying to budget well, so I won't be doing to many traditional meals in Reno.  Although it's a relatively expensive bar at $3.49 at my company store and other convenience stores, Walmart carries them for $1.98/bar.  Cheaper than Micky D's in Reno for sure.

Hard to believe MetRx has been around for over 20 years now.  So many supplement companies come and go, primarily because people eventually realize the latest and greatest is nothing but the same stuff (or no more effective than the stuff) that other companies are selling.

I've seen so many of these companies come and go, and many of them went with some of my money.  Cybergenics. Hot Stuff. Weider, back when he was king. EAS is barely hanging on, or so it seems.

I like protein bars only for the convenience.  It's too inconvenient to get my daily intake of protein, so there you go. But I do laugh at the mere thought of them selling what is basically a fortified candy bar, or clump of cookie dough in the case of my personal favorite offering.

When MetRx first came out, it was as a powder that came in two parts, perfectly formulated so that you mix them together to form the perfect food and only supplement you would ever need. My bullshit detector was not as sharp back then, so I only questioned to myself casually why, if this was the perfect combination of milk and whey protein, was it OK per the directions to mix it with either water or milk?

Anyway, now it's a sugar-sweetened clump of cookie dough, so perhaps the original product wasn't so perfect after all.  And of course, Bill Phillips, of Body-for-Life fame, who co-promoted the product, spun off his own company and competitive product (EAS/Myoplex), and touted his as the superior product. My naivete of yesteryear was a trigger point to future financial issues.  I bought over $500 of the stuff on a credit card, back when I was a rookie DJ making $6/hour.  I justified it by kidding myself into believing I would hardly need any other solid food, so the cost would be offset somewhat. The credit card balance would grow and grow for more than just a few years, and led to some seriously lean and turbulent times ahead for me and my soon-to-be first wife.

I have never tried, nor intend to try, recreational/anabolic steroids, but I've spent many a dollar trying to find the perfect natural supplement.  Hint: It doesn't exist.  I still like to try new products, but more for the convenience of them, and the workout energy. Nothing works anywhere close to steroids - a lesson I wish I had fully learned many years and dollars ago.

Time to Start Living Vicariously

In less than two weeks, I will take a trip to Reno, Nevada, to bowl in the USBC Open Championship, where if all goes well, I will win back a portion of my $180 entry fee, to help take the sting out of a $1000 extended weekend.

I've been told by friends and family that I have a wide array of talents, bowling being one of them.  I don't think I'll sound too lacking in humility to say that they are, to some degree, correct.

I am "good" at a lot of things.  I'm "great" at nothing.

My family, on the other hand, is loaded with talent. My older sister the valedictorian and musician, my younger one the actress.  Real life got in the way of their dreams, but they have more talent than I could hope to.

I also have five talented children.  My son the rock drummer and aspiring producer. My daughter, who is already hearing from Ivy League schools in her sophomore year in high school.  My other daughter the dancer. My younger sons, who are already showing the gifts that their older siblings have.

I have a cousin who is an amazing freehand artist, his brother a former pro ballplayer and three-sport star, their father the former pro football player and current German League champion coach. I have another cousin who owns multiple patents, and currently markets an amazing hunting product (deer attractant), which has allowed him to do such things as hunt with Ted Nugent. (He can jam at the guitar nearly as good as Ted as well.)

It's a little depressing to know that you're too old for your dreams of yesteryear.  My remedy will be to create new dreams.  And to live vicariously. Anyway...

Not the least of my talented family members are my parents, both doctorates and both having risen to the highest levels of their chosen professions.

Even at the second cousin level, I have one who is a D-1 college golfer. I have a first cousin, once-removed, who is a D-1 hockey player.  (Oh, and before I forget, my wife was a D-1 swimmer.)

And lastly, but not leastly, I have another first cousin, once-removed, who is presently at the doorstep of bona fide stardom.  She started just from a desire to learn songs, some four years ago.  Now age 13, she's won talent shows, including the Minnesota State Fair pre-teen finals, and has developed quite a following on the Internet.

Below is a link to her recent release; written and recorded at the age of 12. That's not a typo.

I hope to share more of my talented family in future posts. I said "lastly" above, but there are some I didn't even mention.  It's precisely this breadth of talented family that allows me to say that I am indeed good at many things, yet without feeling braggadocious about it.  With the level of talent I'm surrounded by daily, saying I'm merely "good" at something is basically admitting inferiority.

(I'll still shamelessly brag about my kids, however.)

Enjoy.

Josie Nelson - Never Again

Tenpin Daycare

I promised a friend that I would make a long post about equipment advances in sports such as bowling, softball, and golf, and this was about two months ago.  Still haven't done it yet.  I've touched on the subject more than once, but still fell like I have a lot left to share for anyone who cares to read about it. It will have to wait a little more, but I'm hoping to do it within the next couple of weeks, or at least for sure when I have some down-time in Reno at the end of April.

For now, I just have a few bowling comments, as I was feeling nostalgic tonight.  Not about old Yellow Dots and Black Beauties, but rather something that was a sign of the times in more than one way: bowling alley nurseries.

My first memory of a bowling alley was being walked by my babysitter/day care provider to the bowling center's nursery, and seeing the pins in the distance. I was practically hooked on the game right then and there.

League bowling was popular enough back then, and enough women were homemakers, to make it work. The bowling alley I worked at in the early/mid-eighties had such a nursery, run by Vivian. I used the crib mattress in it once in between my college classes and league time.

As radical (laughable? ridiculous?) as it may sound today, I think the concept could work again. Perhaps bowling center proprietors would fear liability too much, but assuming that could be worked out with insurance or what have you (waivers?), I don't see why it couldn't be popular again.  Sure, not as much as it once was, nowhere near in fact, and not necessarily during weekdays. But if a couple of centers in a given Metro area offered it, I think it would have a chance, and here's why:

1) Bowling centers in states with indoor smoking bans, like Minnesota, are child-friendly now
2) Thanks in large part to #1, but other factors as well, bowling centers don't have the seedy "bowling alley" reputation of yesteryear
3) Every-other week leagues, or shorter seasons, could help remedy the big problem most people who are turned off by league bowling complain about, and that is the time commitment required

I'm sure I could think of a few more.  Perhaps my readers who are into bowling could chime in with a few as well.

Bowling Update

To date, I haven't talked too much of my bowling season, either here, Facebook, among work colleagues, etc., because it was, for a while, going horribly.  But I've averaged 228 over my last 7 weeks, raising my average to 213.

Yep, that's how bad it was going.  203 at the low point.

The changes I made started to pay dividends, spare shooting has improved, and now I'm genuinely excited for the trip to Reno because I am having some work done on my equipment.  I am also shopping for a new ball.

I have no illusion that I'll shoot for an Eagle, or even profit from the trip.  But I'd like to think my chances of cashing in some events is much better now than a few months ago.

The thing I find interesting about my equipment changes is that, for the first time since reaching adulthood, I will be narrowing my span by about a quarter inch.  I tested a ball today with a span about 3/8 inch less span than mine, and it went great.  Oddly, no loss in revs, a natural increase in speed, and a nice, effortless roll off my fingers were the results.  Not to mention 8 strikes in 12 shots starting cold.

It's sad that I've been self-taught so many years.  Had I sought the advice of a pro (and this goes for golf, too), I probably would have discovered long ago that a wider span does not necessarily equate to a better, more powerful roll. Yes, to some degree, as compared to a conventional grip, it does.  But there is a point of diminishing returns where one has to start squeezing more and work harder for no better results.

At nearly 47 years of age, I'm glad to know that I can still learn (quite) a few things.  But it's embarrassing some of the things that I should have learned long ago.  And it's a bit upsetting to think that stubbornness and/or whatever else causes me to always want to be self-taught has cost me several years of better results, and the enjoyment that comes with them.

Trying Trifocals

Before yesterday, I hadn't worn prescription eyeglasses since my son or sons destroyed my previous pair. I don't recall whether it was my now-five-year-old or now-seven-year-old, but no matter, I now have a new pair.

They are trifocals of the modern type: no lines. So far?  I hate them.  The mid-range I have no use for.  The long range is only on the top of the frame, so, for example, when I was looking down at the bottom shelf in the grocery store, I still couldn't read anything, because I was looking through the bottom part of the lenses.  So it means I often have to tilt my head awkwardly to see what I'm trying to see.

The bottom part is useless as well.  These are the typical smaller-type frames that are most common today, and thus, if I need to read a prescription bottle up close, I could easily find a sight-line below the frames.  My close-up vision is perfect without lenses.  When I wear contacts, I need readers.

What's more, even though they are without lines, there is a very small "window" through which I can read the close-up things. My face has to be nearly perfectly square to the object I'm reading or focusing on.  When I read from a magazine, I actually have to move my head with the printed lines.

I'm giving them a few days like they told me to, but I'm not optomistic (see what I did there?).

I only hope I can get at least some of my money back.  The one other annoying thing was that when deciding what to get for glasses, I asked how much this pair with all the frills would cost after insurance.  The number the lady quoted me was modest, so I was pleased.  No fewer than three times, however, during our discussion and her reading of the features, she discovered a cost she omitted.  They ended up costing more than twice as much out-of-pocket as she originally said.  

It was the old boiling frog bit; each increase was minor enough as she discovered it that I just said, "That's fine."  Had she said the correct price from the get-go, I'm sure I would have said no to them. But by the time she did get to the correct price, I was so excited to get these specs with all the cool features, that I wasn't turning back.

I wish I had. My neck is stiff just from the short time I've typed this post thanks to these damned things.

Flu Season

The hype around flu season this year is no exaggeration, at least if my family and acquaintances are any indication.  My wife got the flu shot this past fall.  No help - earlier this month she got the flu.

I again did not get a flu shot this season.  I haven't had a full-blown flu since my first year in law school, ten years ago, a flu which knocked me out for a week and got my WRAP (Writing, Representing, and Presenting) professor a little anxious as he awaited the completion of one of my longer writing assignments. I can typically work sick, but not that week.

I should say I hadn't had the full-blown flu since then. My wife says I have a great immune system.  I admit it's better than hers, and I used to think it was pretty great, but not only do I seem to catch something at least once/year now, albeit typically small and short-lived, I also got the full-blown flu this year.  Apparently I'm not quite the antibody host I perhaps once was. I've also heard that this is a different strand, which might explain why she got it despite getting the shot, and why I couldn't fight it as well as I've become accustomed to.

Certainly I was being foolish thinking I could get by sharing the bed with my sick wife.  Last time I picked up flu-like symptoms, they lasted about 24 hours.  This one began two days after she got it, and it lasted about six full days.

So then, my 7-year old comes into our bed yesterday morning with a fever.  Oh-oh.  Thankfully, it seems to have been short-lived, as it was gone, and without medicine, by early this afternoon.  Perhaps he has an immune system superior to mine.

Hopefully, so does his 5-year-old brother, with whom he shared the same bed the couple of days prior to him getting the fever.  They like to do that every now and then.  The little one is the only one in the household to date who hasn't caught it. Of course my concern first and foremost is for his health, but it is also concerning that my wife and I have used up almost all of our sick time for 2013, and we've only just finished the first month.