Bucket List Golf Tournament: The 100th Resorters

 A good time to Blog again is coming up: The 100th anniversary Resorters golf tournament in Alexandria, MN. It's been a bucket list item of mine.  In fact, more than a bucket list item, but something I'd like to continue to do in the future.  But there has to be a first time, and no better time that the 100th anniversary.

Well, perhaps other years might have been "better."  With the hype of the anniversary, a record number of participants have entered, and it appears a higher amount of talent as well, at least in my division.  I'll be playing in the senior division, and another reason why another year might have been a "better" first-time choice for me is that the senior division for the Resorters is for players of 50 years or older. I didn't know that prior to this year.  I had always just assumed it was 55, like other USGA amateur events. (Not pro events, thanks to Arnie.)

So we'll see how this 55-year-old Resorters rookie fairs against the "kids."

Masters Thoughts

 One of the reasons I love The Open Championship so much (aka The British Open) is I get to watch it immediately after waking up, and not just the groups that are not in contention.  The same can be said of this years Masters tournament. With that, I offer these additional thoughts of the 2020 Masters tournament in this year unlike any other:

1. As with other PGA tournaments this year, one benefit of watching with no fans, er, patrons in attendance, is you get to see much more of the course and its beauty.

2. The traditional Sunday pin placement on #16 is not being used this year.  They've moved it to about where it was when Nicklaus made his famous put in '75. Without patrons to cheer the ball down the slope to the back left placement, I think this is a good year for a one-time move, adding nostalgic value.

3. Jack may be the greater of the two honorary starters, but I'd take Gary Player's swing at 85 years of age over Jack Nicklaus's at 80 any day. In fact, I'm looking forward to playing golf in my elder years if I can keep my body anywhere near in Player's condition. 

4. Speaking of elders, I literally go goose bumps seeing that Lee Elder will join the honorary starters next year. I'm being neither facetious no overly morbid when I say I hope Lee stays in good enough help to make it next April.

5. Yes, I'm using "literally" correctly above.  I'm not saying I'm literally a goose, but that I literally got the things on my skin that we traditionally call "goose bumps."

6. Even though Bryson DeChambeau is not in contention, he is fascinating to watch and to think about in how he might impact this game's future. I recall a Long Drive champion once saying about Tiger Woods that he knew one day someone with long-drive-champion skills would figure out how to hit it straight and dominate on tour, and that Tiger was the one.  But he really wasn't; Bryson is.  Will he dominate? Time will tell, but I think more likely, he will inspire more young players to be like him, a la Jason Belmonte in bowling. While Belmonte continued to dominate, I'm not so sure about DeChambeau.

7. I wonder if, instead of tour players like DeChambeau learning from the long-drive hitters and applying the skills on tour, that some of these Long Drive Tour members might learn from him and hit more of their drives in play. Or maybe if they did, they'd be joining the PGA Tour for the big money.

8. One thing I love about this tournament, even when I don't have a horse in the race, is knowing that if someone like Dustin Johnson wins his first green jacket, it's a lifetime invitation to return.  That always makes it interesting in the end. If it comes down to two who have already won, well that's exciting all by itself.

9. When the Masters is in April, it gets me excited about the upcoming golf season here in Minnesota. That's not the case this year, but I can say that I'm excited to work on a few things in the golf domes this winter.  With proper social distancing and mask-wearing, of course.

Last Year's Fitness Goals

In my previous post, which goes all the way back to June of last year, I updated the following goals:

1- Pull-ups
2- Bench Press
3- Slam Dunk

My current update:

1- I did indeed hit my goal of 12 quality pull-ups. For a brief few seconds I was pretty emotional.  Weird. Best guess as to how many I could do right at this moment is 10; it's just not something I train "for" anymore.

2- I've been training differently on most of my lifts since discovering this channel on YouTube last year:  Natural Gallant Bodybuilding. At this point, I have no interest in pursuing the goal, because "good form" in bench pressing means something different to me now.  Further, because part of my reason for wanting to hit this goal was because it is tested in NFL combines (with 225#), and because I've seen the sloppy form they often use, it means even less.

Maybe someday I'll try to hit the goal with the same sloppy form NFL prospects use, but for now, I couldn't care less about this goal.  Funny how things can change that quickly, and it ain't even sour grapes.

3- Yeah, still more than doubtful.  But I might give a 12-week "jumping" training course a try just to see how much improvement I can make, and then decide from there. On the plus side, my knees have been very good for a while now.

I credit different squatting technique, thanks to the Gallant YouTube page mentioned above. The guy is a riot, and speaks the truth. Kind of depressing feeling like 30 years were wasted, following scores of other types of training advice that only steered me wrong. If I ever start my own YouTube training page, it would be about stupid-ass things I did in the past. I'd have enough material for a post every week for the next 30 years.

Two weeks left to fitness goals deadline

Simply put, it looks like I'll be going 1-for-3 in my goals. Here's the latest:

1- Pull-ups. Did 11 the other night at a total weight (with clothing) of 191.7 lbs. Confidence level of meeting my goal of 12 in two weeks is very high.

2- Bench Press. Haven't attempted my body weight in a while. Will be giving it a shot tomorrow evening to check-in. I'm able to do 225 for 10 reps, and did 195 for 16 reps several weeks ago. I should weigh in around 185 in two weeks. All things considered, confidence level of hitting my goal of my bodyweight for 24 reps is somewhat low. That said, it's not one I'll give up on, as it does appear to be within my limitations should I keep trying.

3- Slam dunk. Who am I kidding? I've made gradual improvements, (like a couple inches) but at my lowest bodyweight (189) and with my knees and ankles on their best day (they can come and go), I've only been able to grab the rim with about 4 inches to spare. Confidence level of EVER reaching this goal is extremely low, much less in two weeks. I'll do a check-in this weekend.

Despite my low confidence in the last of the three, I'm still going to try things, for a couple reasons. First, I like being 52, a not-so-tall 6'1", and being able to grab the rim. So there's no need to lose that ability at least. Second, knowing I likely won't achieve it, it might be fun to try different training techniques and jumping form. With nothing to lose, it might be fun to learn something, and if nothing else, spice up the workouts a bit.

Fitness Goals update

It's too soon to measure any real progress since last time, but I took a couple positive steps forward, so...

1) Bench press - With a morning body weight of 195.4 lbs. on 4/18, I pressed 185 for 16 reps. Probably could have done a 17th, but was a little disappointed that it wasn't going to be easy, so I bailed. I had previously done 195 for 16 reps, so it seemed like I regressed. Possible issues: it was later in the evening (energy was more sapped), I had played some basketball for over a half an hour prior to (perhaps expended energy), food consumption during the day, or something else.

I think what may be happening is I've been training with lighter weights for higher reps, but perhaps the best way to to train for benching my weight for a high amount of reps (24 is the goal), is to go back to higher weights, say 225, and improve the reps for that weight. I'll try that and see what happens.

2) Pull-ups - With a training-time weight of 196.4 (including attire, no shoes), I did 9 full pull-ups, hands-over-top style. A personal record. Feeling good about this. What my self-esteem would have been like in junior high school had I been able to do that then!

3) Dunking/vertical jump - I've been working on my two-footed jump, practicing technique from some Google searches. They don't seem to be BS; I've noticed some improvement. Still, at a workout-time body weight (including attire and shoes) of 198.4, I was able to do a running, one-foot jump and get just a tad higher than last time. Probably 3 1/2 inches or so above the rim.

Still guessing my ideal body weight for these goals is around 185, but it may be closer to 180. The question is whether I'll be able to get the weight down that low without losing too much lean mass and strength. It's possible, but perhaps not in the short time I've given myself.

Fitness Goals

Three years have passed since I blogged last. No, I'm not rapping, although my toes are tapping.

Anyway, I figured I'd post this here because I want to put it "out there" to help inspire myself, without putting it on Facebook so as to look like I'm fishing for likes, compliments, etc.

A couple of weeks ago, when I realized it was 12 weeks until summer, I posted on Facebook that I have three fitness goals to hit by summer. I didn't say what they were; I only gave a vague reference to the fact that if I do hit them, I'll be in good shape for the beach.

Not that I've let myself go since losing some 35 pounds two years ago, but I've been simply "maintaining" and not really inspiring myself.  So I set some new goals, and made them a little different because simply "losing x pounds" or "benching x pounds" not only isn't as inspiring, but ultimately, the end goal is to look good, and one can accomplish those types of goals without really looking (or being) any more fit.

So Here they are, with an update:

1) Bench press my weight for 24 reps.  Whether I weigh 225 or 175, I want 24 reps at that weight. When I first benched 315 for one rep, a lifetime goal, I was overweight. When the weight went down, so did the strength. That's what happens when you're not doing PEDs. You can try to keep as much of the strength as possible, but you simply aren't going to keep it all when losing weight.

2) Perform 12 pull-ups in good form. Over-the-top grip, just like they made you do in school, and I could never complete even one.

3) Dunk a basketball on a regulation-height rim, with a regulation-sized basketball, with nothing but a regulation floor and regular basketball shoes. No cheating, in other word.

The thing is with these goals, if I achieve them all, I'll be in the kind of shape I want to get do. You can't do them all without being both lean and strong.

So here's a progress report:

1) 4/14/18 - Benched 195 for 16 reps, with a morning weigh-in of 195.2
2) 4/15/18 - Performed 8 good pull-ups with a body weight (including clothing) of 196.8
3) 5/15/18 - Was able to grab the basketball rim just enough to tug, but not hang on. Probably about 3 inches or so above the rim, meaning I'm about 7 inches away from dunking

Goals 1 & 2 are on track. Goal #3 may never happen, but if they all are to happen, I figure I need to get my weight down to 185 while losing nearly no muscle. I could see myself getting strong enough at 195 to do the first 2, but I'm not sure my knees would allow me to spring enough at 195 to get high enough above the rim. So for now, I'm looking at 185 as the target weight.

Here's hopping...er, hoping.

March Madne$$

I'm not sure exactly where I stand on whether Division 1 NCAA athletes should be paid. I'd probably be happy with generous per diems and looser rules that aren't related to cash.  Despite all of the revenue the big sports bring in, and thus allowing a profit on the backs of kids who will never see the big professional dollars, I'm not sure the right thing is to start paying them what would be akin to salaries.

One of the stronger arguments I've heard against paying them is that for the Division 1 colleges that don't make the huge profits that the Ohio States of the world make, paying the athletes on the big money teams might necessitate canceling sports that 

To that, some say, "So what? If you're upset that you don't get a free ride as part of the rowing team, learn to shoot a three-pointer."

Strawman, yes, but I'm probably not too far off.

Regardless, I find the amount of money being made on the backs of athletes who mostly are getting average educations, albeit free, is disgusting.  So when I was watching a kid interviewed after one of the games tonight, impressed at his articulation and eloquence, and ability to say all the right things and how great a game the next one will be, my mind wandered off, imaging something I would have liked him to say.

I'll preface it by saying that in addition to the obscene amount of money, I'm disgusted by the gall and arrogance of the NCAA.  They no doubt would have a thing or two to say if any athlete publicly blasted them after a big tournament game (or any game, really).  But what if his post-game comments went something like this:

"You know, we're really looking forward to playing Wisconsin on Saturday.  We lost a heartbreaker to them last year, so we really want to prove something.  They are a talented team, so I'm sure they want to prove something too.  So it should be a great game - one the advertisers will be happy to spend big bucks on and making a lot of people a lot of money.  I'm just glad to be a part the awesome ratings it will bring and commerce that will come with it, knowing that some people's nest eggs will be enriched."

I would love to see the athletes take a united stand in this; using irony that you can't prove to bring attention to the absurdity of big time college sports Imagine if every interview became just as predictable as they already are, only instead of "giving 110%" and other cliches, we'd hear about what great ratings and ad revenue it will bring in for the corporations, colleges, and NCAA.

Another New Year's Eve

It's New Year's Eve, and my wife and I are waiting to ring in the new year at the airport.  We are flying out on the 1:15 AM flight to Orlando to cheer on the Gophers in the Citrus Bowl, and then we're heading right back to Minnesota on Friday.

It's been a typically stressful holiday season, and while I love watching the kids enjoy it, I'm always glad when it's over. Year-end stuff at work always adds to the stress, and my wife gets anxiety when flying.  As my dad once said, having fun sure can be hard work.

But I am looking forward to the New Year.  I'll have some resolutions and goals, some of which I'll try to remember to share here.  Or perhaps I'll forget about it and post something entirely unrelated a month from now, as if I never said anything about it.

Physical goals, bowling goals, financial goals, even career goals this time around.  We'll see. Oh, yeah, parenting goals as well.

Is it really the eve of 2015? Wow. Just wow.

Happy New Year and Go Gophers!

Gaming DNA

When I was in junior high school, I was addicted to pinball. Any quarter I could muster, I would take to Lotsa Fun at the Har Mar Mall in Roseville, Minnesota, or perhaps the Kresge store in the same mall, or the now-defunct and my eventual main hangout, Rose Bowl Lanes, across the street. The video game Space Invaders was introduced at some point in my junior high tenure, shortly followed by Asteroids, and the end of pinball's dominance in arcades was begun. I'm not sure what hooked me, but it's not too surprising, since my dad was a terrific pool player (and still amazes me on the rare occasion he plays). I think there's a similar arcade-like DNA there.

I made the switch, too, becoming a regular at Circus, the successor to Lotsa Fun, using the same mall space with an expansion. There were a few games I was pretty good at. I became a very good foosball player as well (also in the billiards DNA), even winning a couple championships at my Technical College (I know, I know..."real impressive"). The only game I became better at than anyone I ever saw was Wacko, and obscure game where you moved a hovering-saucer-riding alien, shooting other aliens it would meet at different points along the path.  What made it challenging was that you had to multi-task in a way no other game required.

In my adult years, I enjoyed some home video games, with my favorite being Links golf on the PC. I still fire it up once in a while, despite the franchise folding sometime after Microsoft sold it in 2004, preferring it to even the most recent Tiger Woods games from EAS. For a while, and in spurts, I would be addicted to the game, and even quite temperamental when I didn't play well.

This background leads to the point of this post: I'm not a gamer, and I'm not sure why.  My 20-year-old son is, my 7-and-9-year-old sons are hooked on Skylanders, Mario, and most recently, starting to really get into WWE. But not only am I not a gamer, I don't play home video games at all, other than occasionally when my young sons want me to play with them. And I'm not sure why.

Perhaps they have become too realistic, although I can still see myself getting the bug to play Tiger Woods again, and perhaps even Brunswick's PBA bowling game, both of which are quite realistic. Perhaps because I never really enjoyed the personally violent games I say personally violent, because obliterating scores of spaceships were fun. I still enjoy playing Galaga every time I visit Breezy Point Resort.  So, perhaps I only enjoy video games for nostalgia, or if they are realistic facsimiles of sports I enjoy playing in real life.

I guess it's a good thing, as it saves money and keeps me from wasting time.  Then again, I spend plenty on games for the boys, and I really don't use all that free time as productively as I should.

Oh, and I did lie a little. I still occasionally play bumper stars on Candystand.com. It's a bit addictive for me, and I'll binge in it still occasionally. It's basically a video game cross between pinball and billiards.

Yep, I can't defy, nor will I ever totally shake, my arcade-like DNA.

Everything was better at Grandma Ann's

My Grandmother, Ann Malmgren, was laid to rest yesterday. It was truly a celebration of her life.  Tears were shed, and there was sadness, but the joy of stories, memories, and even home movies made it a wonderful time.

As with my Grandpa Leonard (Ann's husband, who passed away 21 years ago), I was asked to deliver the Words of Remembrance at the Mass of Christian Burial.  Basically, it's the non-clergy eulogy.  Knowing I had only a few minutes during which to speak, and that it had to be religious in nature (which I found a little awkward coming from me), I kept my stories short and simple.

I talked about hoping to awe and inspire everyone with my stories, but in preparation, was having trouble coming up with anything other than what everyone else would have said about her. So, as I explained, I started a brainstorming session, writing down a word or two about every memory I had.  Here was my list:

Worms

Well water

Peas

Orange Juice

Baseball

Linens

Ice cream

Popcorn

Tonight Show

Coffee Maker

Poached eggs

Basement smell

Jokes

Laugh

There were more I could have written down, but I realized I was getting nowhere.  It was a  mundane list for sure.

But then,after looking it over some more, I realized that's what made Grandma Ann so special. To have fond memories of her linked to each of these ordinary things could only mean that she truly was extraordinary. 

I had originally planned on describing why many of these held special meaning to me, but for time purposes, limited it to just a couple. As it turned out, less is truly more. Most people who knew Grandma Ann knew exactly what I meant by enough of these that they understood there must be something similarly wonderful to those they did not. It's like hearing a joke that you don't get, but know that you should get, and why, and thus find it funny.

I concluded my personal remembrances with the following, and am paraphrasing here, as it was mostly ad-libbed from the rehearsals that took place in my head:

Everything was better at Grandma Ann's. Some of it is understandable: her cooking, sewing, and gardening, for example. 

As for some of the others, it may not make much sense, and you might ask, "How could all those things, like mass-produced, store-bought ice cream, be better just because it was at Grandma Ann's?" 

Well, that's a question that pretty much answers itself.  Everything at Grandma Ann's was better...just because it was at Grandma Ann's.

Here is a link to her obituary: http://www.andersonfuneral.net/obituaries/Anna-Malmgren/

Things I think about when my team is sucking

What better way to cheer myself up over the pathetic Christian Ponder-led Vikings showing in Green Bay tonight than to criticize a sports announcer? No, not one of the football game's announcers, but the play-by-play guy who did the Giants-Pirates Wild Card game last night.

I don't recall who was on the play-by-play, but it's not about picking on him. Rather, it's about any announcer who does this, including former Twins announcer John Gordon:

"(Batter) is up, and (On-deck Batter) would be next."

Gordon used to do that all the time.

"What's wrong with that?" you ask. "The on-deck batter would be next. if the current batter keeps the inning going."

Well, that's all fine and dandy, except there was one out and no one on base.

So unless by "would be" the announcer meant, "(On-deck Batter) would be next, unless he gets knocked out like a sacked QB by a foul ball, or the manager does something incredibly stupid and puts in a pinch-hitter for Hunter in the third inning."

Until last night, I thought Gord-o was the only one who ever did that. I suppose I'm going to notice it all the time now. Funny how things work like that. For example, my ex-wife was the first person I ever noticed using the non-word "acrossed." She said it while we were doing a crossword puzzle together.

(She gave me quite the lashing for correcting her, but dang, if you ever catch me doing something like that, if you're my friend, I expect you to correct me immediately!)

Then I started to hear some sports announcers use it, as in, "He passes the puck acrossed to Parise."

And then I heard it in a production of Oklahoma!, which means two things, probably: 1) That its use has been around a lot longer than my ex-wife, and 2) That it probably wasn't meant to be used any more than "Caint" (as in "I caint say no") or "Whatcher" (as in "Whatcher gonna do when he starts talkin' purty?")

Yes, I'm quoting old Broadway tunes instead of watching football.

I should turn the game back on to see if Ponder is still playing QB.  Chandler Harnish would be next.

Grandma Ann

I just got word tonight that my maternal grandmother slipped into a coma and may not make it through the night.  She is 95 years old, and has been living in a nursing home for some time. I haven't been able to have a meaningful conversation with her for several years, but that won't make it any less sad when she goes.

Whenever she does pass, among many other things, I will remember her wonderful cooking, and her amazing ability to tell a joke, no matter what joke, and make everyone laugh. She was pretty amazing; she had to learn to be.  She basically raised her siblings from the age of 12, as the oldest, when her mother passed away and her father was away.

If her time does come soon, I am very glad I got to visit her one more time recently, a visit during which she was unusually sharp. Below is a picture of her with my two youngest boys and me.

(Not) Finding Bigfoot

I am watching the season finale of Finding Bigfoot. The episode is called, "Biggest Search Yet," so I'm guessing they capture the beast, and needed to make this a special two-hour episode.

See, I am being facetious with that comment (my ongoing joke with my wife is that THIS is the episode they finally find him!), but despite my overall skepticism around Bigfoot, Sasquatch, Yeti, etc., I have no problem suspending disbelief when it comes to the subject.  This includes Bigfoot-themed movies, regardless (usually) of how awful they might be.

In my 2010 post about having Bigfoot dreams, I noted the source of them being a belief in the being from my childhood. I was an impressionable child, willing to believe just about anything a reasonable-sounding adult was willing to believe. So movies like those from Sunn Classic Pictures really had me going.

Today, I call myself a skeptic, and not just of mysterious monsters, but of everything, by the true definition. That is, make a claim that I haven't heard of or formed an opinion on yet, and I'm going to want you to back it up, and as Carl Sagan would say, the more extraordinary the claim, the more extraordinary the evidence I'm going to need.

But I still find Sasquatch an interesting subject, and the only reason I can figure is what I said about suspending disbelief. I suppose I can in other subjects, too. I enjoy some good ghost movies, despite my disbelief in them.  Ghost-hunting reality shows, on the other hand, I have no time for.  And while I find the Bigfoot hunters just as silly as the ghost chasers, I still get a kick out of watching them.

Perhaps it's the degree of my skepticism, and that it hasn't yet reached 99.5% certainty of its non-existence. Whereas I find all psychics and mediums to be frauds and/or delusional, ghost-hunters as kidding themselves, and a host of other things too obviously ludicrous to mention (although I'll mention one to give you an idea; dousing), I'm ever-so-slightly open to accepting that there is a small chance of a species similar to ours, yet capable and wanting to keep hidden.

Then, when I read what I just wrote, I think, "That's ridiculous," and get close to 100% disbelief, and my skepticism is again equal to my skepticism of all other things paranormal, supernatural, etc. For a while, anyway.

I guess it's like this: If I saw a psychic and was impressed with something he did (like say something about my deceased grandparents that I wouldn't think he could know), I would think, "Nice trick, but I'm not buying."

If I were dared to stay in a "haunted house" for a nice little fee, I'd gladly accept.  Then, upon hearing scary noises in the dark, I'd think, "Hmm, weird noises in an old house. How original. Come out, come out, wherever you are, ghosts!"

But if I were alone in the woods, and I came upon a Sasquatch, while I might try my best to think, "Man in an ape suit," my guess is I would probably shit my pants.

And that's the difference between my Bigfoot skepticism v. all the others.

2014 USBC Open Championship

This will hopefully be the beginning of my posting more often again. I used to try to post once per week; then tried to make sure I posted at least once a month.  Now I don't even necessarily rush to get an 11th-hour post on the last day of the month just to keep that going.

The main reasons for the fewer posts are: 1) I've run out of ideas that take more than a couple of sentences to cover, and 2) I've used Facebook to express my couple-sentence thoughts. 

It's a lot like the songwriting I used to try to do.  When I was younger, I would just write, and even if I felt the writing sucked, I'd just go with it.  It eventually, however, turned into less and less writing because instead of just going with it, I'd wait to write until I had a complete thought to go with.  Those became less and less frequent until I did virtually no more writing.

I don't want blogging to go that route.  So instead of, say, waiting until I have my complete post about technology and hobby sports (bowling, softball, and golf, for example), I'll start the thought here and just go with it.  I won't complete it today, but hopefully will piecemeal it until it's a "finished product."

I had remembered an old newspaper clipping a friend of mine had saved on the sudden increase of sanctioned 300 bowling games.  It was largely due to advances in ball technology, lane technology, and relaxed rules. 

You might think the article was from the early 2000s. It could also be from circa 1992 when reactive equipment became the norm.  Or perhaps you remember the short-oil trend of the late '80s that saw a spike in perfectos. (My first and only sanctioned 300 was from this era.)

In fact, the article was from circa 1983, and when I find the image in my old cell phone, I'll reproduce it on this blog (or have my friend re-send it). The reason at the time was the advent of urethane balls like the original AMF Angle, and I would also guess that lanes, even though still nearly 100% natural wood, were much more consistent with their resurfacing.

So look for that in the near future.  

I also wanted to discuss my 2014 experience at the USBC Open Championship, which was my most successful yet.  Even though scores are up this year, I was quite pleased with my 1857 score in all events. Some of the success came from bowling with bowlers who were more on the same page with regard to how we were playing the lanes.  Part of it was the slightly easier conditions. Part of it was that I truly have become more educated and just better at bowling on a sport shot.

While it was by far my best Open Championship yet, by 153 pins in fact, I have plenty of reason for optimism in future tournaments as well.  I attribute that largely to the education I've received from bowlers like my Pro and old friend, who gave me post-tournament tips in starting out better.  You'll see from my scores that I had poor starts in each of my events, largely due to leaving splits, either of the wash-out type (e.g., a 2-8-10 split), or from going through the nose.

Cashing in every event was very gratifying.  Doing so despite averaging 166.33 in my first games gives me hope for better things to come.  

Here is my final scoresheet:

Memorial Day

It was a pretty darn good Memorial Day weekend.  Golf and leisure time with friends and my wife. I just finished mowing the lawn and had a 16 oz. Grain Belt Nordeast on a less-than-full stomach. I can feel it, although it will take one more to count as a "buzz."

I rarely drink past the buzz phase.  Perhaps because the gut-rot of too many beers or the headache that comes later are a part of the reason.  Mostly, however, it's simply that I don't need any more than a good buzz to feel good.  I don't get the appeal of drunkenness beyond that.

I especially don't get it for those whom it makes violent, weepy, pass out, or anything other than simply happier than they were before drinking it. I've seen so many types, and I just don't understand why they'd drink past the "happy" state if they knew it would lead to something bad.

Yeah it's easy to wonder and judge and all that. I'm trying to come up with an analogy, but nothing comes to mind.  Perhaps watching Vikings games. They make me happy, until eventually, they blow it and break my heart.  And yeah, NFL football is close to an addiction. So I should know better and just turn the TV as soon as it becomes apparent the Vikings might blow the game.

That actually wasn't a bad analogy, even if tongue-in-cheek.  I'll try to come up with a better one, but first, I'll crack open another one.

Thanks to all who have served, by the way. I don't drink to forget, and I won't forget.  Cheers to you.

Bad Hockey Dad Rears His Ugly Head

In my Debate Dad post, I mentioned how I was once a bad hockey and basketball dad. Long story short, I couldn't keep my mouth shut, trying to coach from the stands to my older son, now 19.

My eight-year-old is playing hockey, as is his six-year-old brother.  I don't ever have to get on the younger of the two as far as effort is concerned.  He's more competitive in team contact sports.

The eight-year-old, however, needs to be reminded to put out full effort when he's in a game, even though at that age, they still aren't keeping score.  I remind him that his team still wants to do well, so they need his help, and that it's more fun playing hard because it makes better things happen for you.

He enjoys playing goalie more than other positions, and today got to play two games of it in the season-ending jamboree. Whether playing goalie or as a skater, he has a similar tendency as his older brother: he looks at me regularly throughout the game. As I told his older brother when he was playing hockey, and then basketball, I tell him to focus on the game and don't look at me.

His younger brother only occasionally looks my way, and it's typically a short "thumbs-up" or something similar, before continuing straight back to the action. Eight-year-old gets the thumbs-up quite often, too, but you can tell there is a difference in his glances my way. It's a sort of look for approval, and this is where Bad Hockey Dad comes in.

Whereas I should just always be giving him the thumbs-up when he looks my way, and save the "don't look at me so much" talk for after practice, I far-too-often use those moments as coaching moments.  I'm not yelling out like I did with my older son, but try to use hand gestures, like pointing at the puck, or cranking my arm, to get him to focus on the action and pick up the pace a bit.

Even that doesn't sound so bad, but today, with him playing goalie, I made a fool of myself by trying to show him goalie positions after one goal was scored on him.  He was struggling just a bit, and there was one series where he had the opportunity to drop on his pads and perhaps smother the puck, but he stayed on his feet and eventually the other team batted the puck in.

I often forget that he's an eight-year-old, and thus incapable of remembering every piece of advice I throw his way prior to a game or practice. While I'm not actually angry with him, when I'm trying to show him these things during play, I'm sure I come across as being upset or disappointed.

My antics today moved him to tears, even yelling audibly back to me, "Daddy, stop!" While he was yelling that in my direction, the other team scored another goal, with him looking my way instead of at the action on the ice.

I felt like I was Vic Morrow's character in The Bad News Bears.

So here I sit, contemplating how I'm going to be a better hockey dad, coach (even though I'm not one of his hockey coaches, I do coach him in baseball), role model, and just plain father. Right now, among all of the thoughts in my head at 3:48 am, I think the key is to make sure I allow sports to be fun for him, be there to play with him, and use the positive moments to coach with.

Duh, right? It's absolutely humiliating to know that it took being called out by my tearful child in the middle of a hockey rink to finally figure it out.

YMCA Distractions

When I'm working out with the free weights at the YMCA, I try to minimize the grunting by internalizing the intensity.  Most of the noise I make is from exhaling with each rep, finishing the last rep sometimes with a hint of a grunt, and sometimes accidentally setting the weight back a little loudly.

So while I'm not perfect, I think my gym etiquette is probably good enough to not lose my membership if I belonged at Planet Fitness. At the YMCA today, the fellows around me all would have had their memberships revoked.

The funny thing is, while all of them were plenty strong for the average guy, they were not the gym-rat types one might expect these noises to be coming from.

Well, maybe one of them didn't make a gym-rat-type noise: he was singing aloud to his iPod.  Badly. And like Rusty Griswold said to his parents about their rendition of "Mockingbird," I wanted to say to the guy, "That sounds made-up!"

An other guy grunted with every rep.  Dude, the tenth rep where it was life-or-death to get that bar off your chest, I can understand. But reps one through nine?  Please.

The third guy slammed the Smith Machine weights down after each set as if the last rep made his arms fall off.  There's an old adage that I subscribe to that goes like this: If you have to drop the weight, it was too heavy for you.

I would cut the guys some slack, because I certainly would not want any footage of some of my weight-room antics from my young adult years.  It was mostly walking around with imaginary lats, but other things as well that I still try to forget.

These guys, however, are much older than my 21-year-old self.  One of them, in fact, is older than my 47-year-old self.  I'll try to figure out how old the song he was singing is next time we cross cables...er, paths.

Early money has it being an '80s hair-metal song.

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.