You Say What?

You know what they say about opinions... Oh, you don’t? Well, here’s what they say.

Last night I met some friends at… Well, it doesn’t matter where. We got together prior to attending a minor league baseball game. Here’s an opinion. This was really good. Anyway…I was the first to arrive and sat at the bar. Adjacent to me were some other middle-aged white guys drinking beer and eating. I eavesdropped on their sports conversation and wondered: Does anyone have an opinion of their own, or are opinions like music -- all derivative of something heard before? One guy was pontificating about the Patriots’ Deion Branch holdout situation. It was interesting to hear this guy very authoritatively tell his friend exactly what would happen. The friend obviously agreed or dared not challenge his friend, the Swami. Funny thing is, the “opinion” stated was simply a parroting of one heard on our local talk radio. People listen to local TV sports personalities, ESPN or talk radio to hear opinions, and then they pick one they like and go with it. Most have no freakin idea what the real situation is, but it doesn’t stop them from spouting their unoriginal opinion. At least my opinions are original. Contrary to popular belief, I’m telling you here and now that Deion Branch will sit out the NFL season and join the Pro Bowlers Tour for better money than he’s getting from the Pats.

Speaking of opinions, a frequent visitor to this space suggested to me that I’m not funny enough and that maybe I should do a post on lesbians. I guess since Howard Stern’s gone satellite, there’s just not enough good lesbian talk. So, as a public service, I’ll kill two birds with one lesbian joke*:

Q: How many lesbians does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A: Four. One to do the work, one to critique the word screw, one to lend her professional credentials and one to write a folk song about the empowering experience.

* My research indicates some lesbians find the stereotyping in the joke humorous.

Yada, Yada, Yada

Sometimes I don’t really have anything to write about, so I’ll just string together some drivel with a few links and call it a post. This is one of those times. Please feel free to identify the others…

Today is the day I formally abjure the part of my May 28th post where I called Jason Varitek the “biggest disappointment” to date of the 2006 Red Sox. Once the captain went down, so did the pitching and thus, the season.

Who needs to diet when you can just alter photographs? Here are some more pictures that lie.

Speaking of size issues, this can really make a guy feel inadequate.

For all you art lovers out there, here are links to musical Powerpoints featuring Pissarro, Dali and Van Gogh. Oh, what the hell… Here’s one of Monet seascapes.

"The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls."
— Pablo Picasso

Hog and Dillard, Part 1

I received an email this week from the dude on the right. It seems we may have a high-school reunion to attend around Thanksgiving. One with a zero on the end of it. So… Dillard. Over the past 36 years or so, he’s been the Stanley to my Simmons, the Wilkes to my Walton in hoops, and the Tony to my Phil Esposito in street hockey. This week some 28 years ago, we had just finished an epic, seven day cross country drive to attend the University of Arizona. On the way we stopped in Wilkes-Barre, PA, Springfield, IL, St. Louie for some “real” Buds, Oklahoma City and finally Amarillo, TX before arriving in Tucson. Somewhere along the way, we browsed a Creem magazine and found out KISS would be playing Tucson the week we arrived. Sweet.

Before “the Arizona days,” there were many a day and night spent in Wakefield, Massachusetts. Just today, Megan said, “don’t be so dramatic” over something I said or did. I found that pretty humorous given the amount of drama she’s lived in her 17 ½ years on and off the planet. Still, as I thought about the drama in the life of a teenager, I tried to remember back to the days when Hog and Dillard were the center of the universe. We had steady girlfriends from about sophomore year on, so yeah, there was some drama. Today I was reminded of one of those dark, dramatic nights back then as I laid on a Precor aBench between sets. Jay Farrar’s live version of “Like a Hurricane” was cranking through my head and I drifted back to that summer night some three decades ago when Dillard and I first heard the original Neil Young version on the radio while driving in his ’69 Camaro convertible, which looked something like this except for the stripes.

Yeah, as I recall we were both “fighting” with our girlfriends so we were out cruising and getting “blown away” under an ink black summer sky. Neil was singing to us right at that very moment because he knew we were Hog and Dillard and he had just the words and guitar chops to soothe our tortured souls.

Hey, it’s been awhile, but that’s how I remember it.

It’s A Wonderful Click

My expectations were pretty low last night when Kyle and I headed to the Strand Theatre to see Adam Sandler’s latest, “Click.” Overall, the film garnered a cumulative “C” from reviewers, but some critics were downright brutal including Peter Travers of Rolling Stone who panned, “Sandler has a sappy side that makes me puke. I damn near choked on Click.” Whatever. It was Saturday night on vacation with my son, so off we went…

“Click” starts out with the usual Sandler staples of farts and shots in the pills that absolutely delighted Kyle, but then took a Capra-esque (some critics would say ripoff) turn toward a more meaningful story of what’s really important during the short time we’re here. In my opinion, it’s a worthy modern retelling of “It’s a Wonderful Life,” with Christopher Walken’s Morty a hip update to Henry Travers’ Clarence and Kate Beckinsale a very hot update to Donna Reed’s Mary.

It’s worth noting Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” was panned by some and didn’t rock the box-office when it was in theatres in 1946. In fact, it ranked 26th in revenue that year and fell about $400K short of recouping it’s $3.7M budget. I think it’s made a few bucks since. “Click” has enjoyed a better financial performance out of the gate, taking in about $135M against a budget of around $70M. Without the Christmas theme, it’s doubtful “Click” will have the legs of “Life.” Still, it’s worth seeing.

“Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?”

- Henry Travers as Clarence Oddbody in “It's a Wonderful Life.”

No Phone Home

Two years ago I ditched Verizon landline phone service in favor of VOIP from Vonage. Still, I was paying for a home phone for which usage was showing a dwindling trend. This month, after a very difficult breakup process, Vonage is now on the scrap heap of my ex-phone providers. It wasn’t easy. I mean the decision was. We were down to less than 100 minutes a month, so I couldn’t really justify the 28 cents a minute. Sadly, Vonage didn’t take it well. There were tears and they asked me if I was seeing another provider. I said no, “it’s just business,” and I really didn’t see it working out for us over the long term.

According to a May-06 poll conducted by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention's National Center for Health Statistics (don’t ask me why), 7.8 percent of surveyed adults live in households with only a cell phone, and that the no phone home population is growing by 2 percentage points per year. Someday, we all may be connected by wi-fi phones or something like that. Until then, call me on my cell.

So, what’s your deal on the home phone?

I wish, I wish I was a fish.

Like the Don Knotts character in the 1964 film, my boy dreams of being a fish. I recall seeing the film as a child and was mesmerized when the live action feature gracefully swam into animation when Mr. Limpett fell from a dock. I’m sure the meaning eluded me back then, but I found this cute dialogue about “being friends” on the Internet Movie Database:

Henry Limpet: Do you suppose that we could just be more or less friends?
Ladyfish: Friends? But wouldn't that be more or less nothing, Limpet?

As for the incredible Mr. Daley, he has been living his dream for the past 24 hours or so as “Jaws” in his new Playstation2 game. It’s taking him a while to learn the game and at first he got frustrated as he struggled to eat a few seals, “I’m sick of seals. I want to eat people.” Yep, it’s good wholesome fun, and though I may not get to watch the plasma for awhile, nothing warms my heart more than to hear my son shout with glee, “Dad, I just ate the guy from the boat!”

Check out these Tri’s!

Yesterday I ventured to the gym for the first time in about two months. Attendance was sparse at 3-ish when I showed up, so I had unfettered access to all the contraptions in my usual routine. After two months of slacking though, the routine was not usual. I stretched my calves as I methodically inserted the orange foam earplugs that carry noise cancelling music into my head for sixty minutes. Yeah it had been a while since I’d heard Bruce and the band fire up “My Love Will Not Let You Down” and “Prove It All Night” from NYC to commence the strenuous proceedings.

After stretching for 10 minutes or so, it was on to the abs thingy which is a bench with one of those ab roller things built in. Anyway, prior to my self-imposed stint on the DL, I could easily burn through 3 sets of 100 (25 x 4) crunches in between stops on the Nautilus circuit. Not yesterday, as crunches 251-275 and 276-300 were really tough, with 295-300 being quite brutal. On to the Stairmaster we go… Again, the two-month sabbatical cost me as I managed only 20 minutes at the 5.0 setting when pre-slacker vacation I was able to crank for 30 minutes no problemo. So, I have some hills to climb, but I’ll get there.

One thing about the gym I don’t do is spend time flexing in front of the many mirrors surrounding the exercise floor. Oh yeah, I occasionally do catch a reflection of myself while walking, and yeah, I throw myself a wink, but jeez, I’m not obsessive about it. It’s not just the muscleheads admiring their physiques either. Yesterday as I scanned the floor for something worth looking at while I did a cool-down stretch, I saw this guy really examining his triceps’! The funny thing was, this guy looked about eleven months pregnant, but he wanted to make sure his tri’s looked rock solid. On second thought though, maybe the triceps is the key muscle for reaching into the drive-through window at McDonalds.

It’s not mine! Really!

There’s tragedy in the news again. On August 16th Mardin Amin tried to sneak a little item onboard a flight from O’Hare and unfortunately his mom was with him. As some of you may know, I do have some, um, pull in the security industry and was able to get my hands on this audio transcript of the ugly incident.

Later, at home with mom and grounded, Mr. Amin was startled when mom entered his room unannounced. Again, it wasn’t pretty. Reached by telephone, Mr. Amin insisted his mom isn’t that mad at him even though he’s remaining grounded until his September 13 court date. He sounded almost boastful and said proudly, “I have the situation well in hand.”

On My Summer Vacation…

Woke up.
Got out of bed.
Did not a thing to my head.
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup…

From that point on, this day in the life was different than the usual Thursday, but very similar to many other days in ways that really matter. After a protein shake including soy milk, yogurt, whey, a banana and berries, Kyle and I headed West on the Mohawk Trail… destination: 1912.

Our first stop was in historic Deerfield at the Yankee Candle Shop Factory. What a cool place! We had a nice lunch at their Chandler's Restaurant that was surprisingly good… I had the pilgrim sandwich, a traditional pairing of fresh carved turkey and sage stuffing on multigrain bread. The cranberry sauce was enjoyed on the side and it was quite nice, as was the Pepi Pinot Grigio. Pepi’s web site describes it better than I could:

Aromas of honeydew melon, red apple
and faint orange blossom unite in harmony.
On the palate, a smooth creaminess and full
body leads to a bracing, mineral, tangy finish.

Yep, it tasted just like that… I do believe Kyle thoroughly enjoyed his chicken tenders and fries chased by a large, ice cold milk. From there we entered through the Yankee Candle Museum and enjoyed a little history lesson on candle making. After that it was just a blur of Halloween stuff with some guy who looked like Voldemort (natch), a Christmas holiday village where it snowed, thousands and thousands of candles, and a Hummer dealership. OK, I made the Hummer part up, but the place was big. We scored 3 22oz’ers: Buttercream (Kyle’s fave), Ginger Citrus and Autumn Wreath for $50. I’ll tell you this, Ginger Citrus smells way better than those tallow candles of yesteryear.

As we rode South on 91 toward Springfield, Kyle was enjoying “Titanic” on his portable DVD player received last Christmas from Auntie Noreen and Uncle Kev. What he didn’t realize was that our next stop was to be at the Titanic Historical Society Museum in downtown Indian Orchard, MA. What a treat for my boy! Literally located in the back of a jewelry store, the museum is a real labor of love for the curators. There are artifacts, movie posters and many models of the infamous ship. With the audio of the 1997 self-titled film playing in the background, I watched Kyle take it all in. He chatted up the woman about Rose, Jack and even some of the people who were not Hollywood fiction. Then he saw it. “Oh, I knew they’d have the diamond!” he gleefully exclaimed upon seeing an exact replica of “Le Coeur de la Mer” (The Heart of the Ocean).

After about thirty minutes, we’d seen all of the tiny homage to history. I know it was very special for Kyle and so, it was for me. We headed home with the sun setting to our backs on a day different than the usual Thursday.

The Pluto-Career Woman Connection

It’s official. Pluto has been shown the intergalactic door and is no longer considered a planet by the International Astronomical Union. To me, Pluto will always be the last bastion of the solar system I grew up with, and there’s no freakin way I’m snipping Pluto off the mobile in my room.

The Plutoversy has produced some interesting commentary from the rocket science set, some of whom can’t seem to um, theorize beyond their own local spinning rock. I’m sure, for example, Alan Boss, a planetary theorist at the Carnegie Institution of Washington, was speaking universally when he declared, “We have a duty to satisfy the whole world.” Really Al? What if those nasty Klingons think Pluto is a planet in their hood?

Anyway, Pluto’s demotion really pissed some people off, including NASA's New Horizons project mission head Alan Stern, who barked, “It's a sloppy definition. It's bad science. It ain't over.” Love that passion, Al (another Al?) but I think we could probably spend $700M a little more constructively than on flying to Pluto, OK? Listen, I can predict with certainty exactly what the thing will beam back to Earth when it finally gets to Pluto in ten years: “It’s f#$%ing cold here.”

Finally, since every controversy can be analogized into a battle of the sexes, Jack Horkheimer, who has a better name than either Al, and is also host of the PBS show "Star Gazer, got cute when he said, “It's like an amicable divorce. The legal status has changed but the person really hasn't. It's just single again.”

Speaking of divorce, Forbes magazine has some advice for their male and lesbian readers: “Don't Marry Career Women.” So, I agree, but only if the “career” is at KFC. Seriously, if I ever get married, or even date a woman for any length of time, she’ll have to be smart. I mean, after the otherworldly thirty seconds of sex, I want someone interesting to talk with… Smart? Yeah. Married to their career? No, thank you. After all, how’s a woman going to be a good partner if she’s constantly thumbing her blackberry?

Vacation… Have to Get Away…

Vacation was delayed a few days to crank out a new program to… Well, it was delayed and now I guess I’m officially on vacation. It remains to be seen if I’ll stay off work eMail given this is our critical 4th quarter.

So… what to do? Kyle is with me for the duration, although he may hang with his mom tomorrow night since she leaves on a real vacation next week. The Williamstown day trip is definitely on, perhaps tomorrow. Then there’s the MFA show I never got to and possibly a day or two down to the Cape or the Vineyard. What else? Any suggestions? Maybe some golf. That would be new.

I want my vacation to be more than just a chill. I’d like to enrich my life and experience some new things. Hmmm… How about some books. Let’s see… Here are a few I’ve purchased but not yet read:

• The Way of Zen
• The Right To Write
• Golf My Way

I’ll keep busy.

The Sad Demise of Pluto

Apparently Pluto is going to be a former planet soon. Yes, it’s true. A “Planet Definition Committee” of the International Astronomical Union is meeting in Prague this week to decide the icy ball’s fate. Obviously, folks are upset, and no one more so than Pluto. I reached out to his people for this exclusive interview. Note: It was very clear right from the get-go of this interview that Pluto was very distraught and drinking heavily. It was truly heartbreaking.

Fifteenkey: “Are things better since Michael Eisner left?”

Pluto: “Hey man, Mike was dope. You noticed any Pluto features since the dude got canned?”

Fifteenkey: “Uh, sorry. From what I read, Mr. Eisner wasn’t too popular with the shareholders.”

Pluto: “Yeah, well that’s because the shareholders had blind allegiance to the board, and the board was manipulated by the main mouse.”

Fifteenkey: “Why was Mickey Mouse manipulating the board?”

Pluto: “Boy, you’re a sharp one, you are. You ever work for Bush?”

Fifteenkey: “No, I’m an independent.”

Pluto: “I see. Anyway, it was the Pixar thing. They weren’t interested in doing that computer generated shit for any of the old crew and that really frosted Mick. I remember one time we were at Jack Nicholson’s house and Mick was hammered. It was when Minnie had that thing with Goofy and Mick was hittin’ it pretty bad. At least it ended the debate about what Goofy was.”

Fifteenkey: “So what happened?”

Pluto: “You really did your homework, eh? Mick tossed a drink in Steve Jobs face and fu&^%in lost it, man. I finally was able to drag his ass out of there, but Jobs was messed up. Mick really freaked him out. His eyes were bulging and his whiskey coated screams of ‘YOU’LL NEVER WORK IN THIS TOWN AGAIN’ were chilling. I’ll never forget it.”

Fifteenkey: “Cool story. So what about this planet thing?”

Pluto: “Hollywood politics. Pure and simple.”

Fifteenkey: “I don’t get it.”

Pluto: “Yeah, I can tell, and you definitely need to. Dude, all the planets are wired ‘cept Pluto. Hey, I had my day, but somebody had to go and that somebody is me. I mean, Mercury’s f$%^ing HOT, Venus has the goddess of sex thing going. Earth? Man… Mars has scary fake Martians. Jupiter is huge and has that freaky spot thing. Saturn has rings, and I’ll admit, they’re f&^%ing cool. Neptune… I don’t know. It’s blue. What’s Pluto got?”

Fifteenkey: “What about Uranus?”

Pluto: “This interview is over.”

Dear Jane,

My brother and his family were up from Philly this weekend for a little family get-together. We had a great weekend and my kids really enjoyed their little cousin Margeaux. At one point during the weekend, my sister-in-law Noreen mentioned an article in the UK’s Guardian Online. I hadn’t read it lately, so I looked at my Bloglines RSS feeds and found this article citing how a poll of how 77% of some 2,000 British women “wanted to receive a handwritten love letter rather than a love text or email…” Incredibly, nearly 20% of these women have never received a love letter, and 44% responded that it had been over ten years since they last received one. I find that incredibly sad, but come to think of it, I haven’t written one in a while, handwritten or otherwise, and ten years passes quickly, like a mid-August rainshower.

If the time ever arrives, I’ll remember to say it the old fashioned way. Until then, the Guardian will keep me thinking about football.

Would You Have This Man Write Your Liner Notes?

Gotta love this pic of Dave in the funky-guy hat. He is one lucky dude as Graham Parker has asked the big guy to take a crack at writing the liner notes for an upcoming live record being released on Bloodshot Records. This has to be such a rock n’ roll fantasy for Dave. He’s been a long-time fan of GP and did this kick ass interview with him in June. Yep, it’s Dave’s passion that got him this gig and as he knows… Passion is no Ordinary Word.

Don't speak unless you can improve on the silence...

I’ve been unable to determine the source of this excellent advice. Spanish proverb? New England proverb? I certainly have invoked it the past couple of days. I’ve been in all-day meetings with groups exploring and validating the business needs of our prospects and customers in Healthcare and Manufacturing. Of course, I know virtually nothing of those “Critical Business Issues,” but I’m very fortunate to work in a company with many very bright people, and several of these “experts” are participating in the workshops.

Unfortunately, not everyone adheres to the counsel above. Yesterday during a break I asked one of the workshop facilitators if their new book was available as an audio download. Out of nowhere, a woman I hardly knew chirped, “What’s wrong, can’t you read? Did you take the short bus?” I just turned my head and looked at her. I didn’t say anything, but maybe I didn't have to. Now I’ve got no problem reading and I can write better than some, but let’s just say I’m a little sensitive than most to a comment like that.

Words can be so powerful. They can lift up or tear down. You just never know when one word may be the very thing someone needs to hear; or the last thing they want to hear. Words are also interpreted. You may imply one thing, but your recipient may infer something completely different. The more you know the receiver, the more you’ll understand their boundaries of appropriateness. I know if that woman knew me at all, she would have known better than to break the rule above yesterday.

Running to Stand Still…

Some 10,000 ran, walked and wheeled the Falmouth Road Race yesterday, but I was not one of them, in spite of the goal I set for myself 135 days ago.

I’ve let myself slide the last six weeks or so. Physically, anyway. I haven’t been to the gym and in spite of the increased amount of yard work, I haven’t replaced the calorie burn or the endorphin producing rush I enjoyed there.

I do have a reorganization plan, but I think I’ll keep it to myself because setting a goal in a public forum and then miserably failing to even come close to it kinda sucks.

Good Day / Bad Day

Today was one of the best days I’ve ever experienced. Exactly one month from September 11th, the weather was glorious with a hint of my favorite season just ahead. I launched a new sales program that was received with great enthusiasm. I spent some time working with Barb and her boss on some important stuff for next week. I picked up Kyle and we had dinner at Megan’s Deangelos shop before going for a long walk and an ice cream. The recently skidding Sox are up 8-0. Kyle is watching “Harry Potter – The Chamber of Secrets” on TV and very content. I am tapping keys and thinking about where to take this.

It hasn’t been such a great day for everyone. Megan went to the wake of her 17 year old classmate who died during surgery to repair an imperfect heart. Megan said her friends 19 year old brother was a mess and that another brother couldn’t be home for the wake. He’s in Iraq.

Fifty year ago this very night, on August 11, 1956, a drunken Jackson Pollock drove his Oldsmobile convertible into a tree, killing himself and a female friend who wasn’t his wife. That couldn’t have been a very good day.

It was around this time exactly five years ago I drove out to Williamstown, MA to see an Impressionist show at the Clark Art Institute. It’s time for another trip. There’s a Pollock show at the Williams College Museum of Art and an interesting looking exhibit of Impressionism and Early Modern Paintings at the Clark.

That’ll be a good day.

Scary Search

I can’t believe pal Jeff didn’t jump on this report about how AOL let out 21 million search queries of more than 650,000 of its users. The article cites a few of the more bizarre personal search histories exposed and proves without a doubt: there are some shiny scary people out there.

So…what’s your search history look like? Would you want your family and friends to know how much of a freak you are? Would you want them to know about your obsessive David Hasselhoff or Olsen Twins searches? No, I didn’t think so.

How about old flames or spouses? Searched them? I’ll admit. I have. Never found much. What I have not searched are things like “free angry stuff to send to an ex lover,” like some loser in the AOL data did.

Anyway, a look at my recent history turns up these exciting searches:

• Dell PowerEdge 1800
• Honda Civic v. Toyota Corolla
• Lexus ES350
• SQL Server 2000 datasheet
• Idylwilde Farm
• Pink Floyd Pig
• rolling stones halifax tickets
• Mary Poppins Broadway
• Decordova museum
• Sean Patrick's
• Griffin RoadTrip nextag
• ExxonMobil profits
• Powell Stone & Gravel
• XML Integration

What I also find interesting are the search terms that return my blog as a result. Here are the current top searches that bring people here:

• I wish that I'd sailed the darkened seas
• Caiaphas the Elder
• Human Destiny by Lecomte du Nouy review comments
• Trombone Player Wanted Marcus Buckingham
• curb your enthusiasm cheryl and larry's vows
• fidelity 401k lava lamp
• hank III overrated
• marrying your soulmate
• rock star penis molds
• rockstar penis cast
• rockstar penis molds
• ryan adams wonderwall
• wakefield merchants baseball

Clearly, the penis mold is a big draw and more scary evidence about who’s out there. Ever wonder who might be “Googling” you?

This Used To Be My Home

Yesterday was a bit of a trip down Memory Lane. To start, Kyle and I visited the DeCordova Museum and Sculpture Park in Lincoln, MA. We immediately hit the StairMaster, climbing through five floors of contemporary works, including Joe Johnson’s vivid color photographs of NYC apartments, Anna Hepler’s two and three dimension geometric designs, and Jen Simms’ fascinating Slices of Life.

It was also a gorgeous day for a stroll around the sculpture park or just to lay in the grass thinking... Also, it’s just not every day you get to see a giant pink pig. In fact, the last time I saw one was in 1977 at a Pink Floyd concert at Boston Garden. Well, I think I recall seeing a giant pink pig…

Driving with Kyle included a constant “audio deathmatch” for control of the airwaves. Yesterday’s battle was between the Scud Mountain Boys and a reading of “Peter Pan” Kyle has on cassette. I pulled a few strings (and rank) so Joe Pernice and the boys prevailed, but only after negotiating air rights away to JM Barrie’s retelling for the ride home. I did notice Kyle’s head kind of bobbing along to the music, but I zipped my lip for fear of reigniting the battle for Captain Hook’s honor.

We exited Route 2 West after the enticing sign for the delicious Idylwilde Farms in Acton. We sampled a few things and marveled at the selection of produce, cheeses and breads, and then got back on the road for a leisurely drive through the rural route of 111. I’d traveled that road many times in years past, having worked for NEC in various corporate incarnations at their building in Boxborough. As we turned in I saw the new commercial identity of Cisco Systems. The duck pond is still there, but given the vacancy I witnessed, I don’t think Cisco has the same affinity for decorative fowl that the Japanese tenants had. The rear parking lot is larger, but faded from years of sun and invaded by green upshoots seeking it. The main pathway from the parking lot to the old employee entrance is now a little narrower, giving ground to the now mature shrubs surrounding the pond. Kyle remembered the place and said, “You used to take me here, Dad.” Yep, but that was a long time ago. Everything sure looks older when looked at directly, and not in the distorted rear view.

I looked for the softball field. The last time I played anything organized with a bat and a ball was there. It remains, along with a beach volleyball court and a sign that warns employees of Cisco’s “intent not to award Worker’s Compensation for injuries sustained participating in non-work related activities.”

Back on 111, then off, we slowly made our way through the winding back roads of Harvard, MA and back to 111 again until we could see that last lone farmhouse on the right just before Route 2. I recall there were usually horses there and lights of the season always would warm a cold passerby on dark afternoon commutes.

When I came out of my lazy summer daydream, I heard the voices of Peter Pan and Kyle as Captain Hook. The road ahead was bright.

Kyle's Dream

Kyle twisted my arm last night to take him to his favorite restaurant, Sean Patrick’s. My son is a bit of a celebrity there as he gets lots of attention from both the Maitre D’ (Sean’s dad) and the cute little blonde hostess. He chats them up about Jaws, Harry Potter and Julie Andrews… his favorite things, while enjoying their Crispy Shrimp appetizer and the Chicken Francese. For me, last night it was a Tenderloin and Roasted Red Pepper Gourmet Pizza. I could eat only ½ of the small pie, maybe because I chased it with 2 specialty margaritas. “Dulcinea’s Dream” was a perfect toast to a gorgeous summer day. I keyed the ingredients into my Treo and will attempt a home-brew when the opportunity arises:

Dulcinea’s Dream
Cabo Wabo Reposado Tequila
Malibu Coconut Rum
Cointreau
Lime Juice
Pineapple Juice
Sour Mix

After one of his chats with the hostess, this conversation took place:

“Dad, I want to get a girlfriend someday.”
“Yeah, me too man.”
“Do you think I’ll have a girlfriend someday?”
“Of course you will, my boy.”

Someday Kyle will make some lucky woman very happy. After all, as was so true for the Tom Hanks character in “Forrest Gump,” Kyle knows what love is.

All the News that’s Sh__ to Print

1. “Drink ‘n Heil” - Mel Gibson had a little too much truth serum and spewed racist commentary about Jews to a Jewish cop in Malibu. Oops. I find it sickening how FOX is jumping to his defense as if the Road Warrior’s vile diatribe was some conspiracy of the left. If Ted Kennedy had slurred those things after a bender on the Vineyard they would be all over him…
   
   
2. When Tour de France, um “winner” Floyd Landis peed in a cup after making up 8 minutes climbing the Alps during the 17th stage, synthetic testosterone showed up. So, unless he produces the fake testicle that produced the fake hormone, he’s going to be stripped of his title.
   
   
3. Israel and Hezbollah continue to amplify the brutality on each other. President Bush is “happy with the progress being made.” See item 5 below.
   
   
4. In a huge disgrace to this country, the US Senate defeated legislation that would have raised the hourly minimum wage to $7.25 from $5.15 over three years.
   
   
5. Ho hum… Fanned by spiking crude-oil prices, ExxonMobil reported a QUARTERLY PROFIT of $10.36B. That’s 10,360,000,000.00, much of it paid for by the poor who can’t get a raise to their minimum wage.
   
   
6. It looks like Apple got caught with its hands in the stock options cookie jar and will have to restate earnings going back “years.”

Fortunately the news isn’t all bad…

History Quickens

This blog is not the only place my personal history is being recorded. I’ve been using Quicken since New Years Day 2000 and there are lots of stories in that database... Gasoline for $24.05 on the 3rd of January was my first recorded expense. Since that day, I’ve visited 480 more times and contributed $12,160.72 in revenue to Big Oil. I guess that pales in comparison to other categories, including almost $20,000 on vacations, $30,110 dining and $169,583 in Child Support. Oh, and let’s not forget the associated $6,172 to my friends in the Legal profession. OK, that’s pissing me off. Let’s move on to more fun categories.

Included in the $2344.75 paid to Ticketmaster.com are the following entries which really speak for themselves:

12/17/2001 Meg/Kyle Beauty & the Beast - Broadway
12/31/2001 Bruins-Leafs w/ Jeff
04/23/2002 Lenny Kravitz-Pink @ Tweeter
05/10/2002 John Hiatt @ Cape Cod Melody Tent
04/15/2003 John Hiatt @ Cape Cod Melody Tent
05/11/2003 @NY Yankees v. Angels 5/15/03
05/23/2003 Mom birthday - Cher
09/11/2003 Bruce @ Shea! Megan
09/24/2003 Stomp! Megan
03/28/2004 Prince w/Jeff
02/20/2005 Green Day
02/21/2005 Lion King NY 2/26 Megan/Kyle/Malrou
03/19/2005 Celts-Dallas 3 tix gift Corey/Ryan/Mike

Then there’s the cake spent on dining with various women over the six years. Here are transactions from just 3 restaurants. I want to protect both the innocent and the not, so I’ve swapped real names for clever code names.

11/04/2000 Cafe Amore Dulcinea
03/31/2001 Papa Razzi M1
06/22/2001 Cafe Amore Goldilocks
01/30/2003 Papa Razzi M2
04/10/2003 Crossroads Blondie
08/27/2003 Papa Razzi Blondie
01/23/2004 Crossroads Blondie
04/08/2004 Crossroads Blondie
04/24/2004 Crossroads M2
08/06/2004 Cafe Amore M3
08/21/2004 Cafe Amore M4
09/23/2004 Crossroads Blondie
10/21/2004 Crossroads Goldilocks
12/10/2004 Crossroads Goldilocks
05/01/2005 Papa Razzi Golf Chick

The “M’s” were those I met through online dating services and the others not. It was a bit of a joke, and likely only funny to me, but I kidded Goldilocks that I could identify every penny I ever spent while with her and that the corresponding ROI calculation was really quite simple. By the way, it was $913.89. Not that I was counting, of course.

Finally, there are those little entries that just bring back a tsunami like wave of memory I hope never leaves me…

2/26/2005 Sbarro's Midnight Pizza Run with Kyle $5.16

We were in NYC celebrating Megan’s 16th birthday and had just walked back to the Grand Hyatt after seeing “The Lion King” on Broadway. As we arrived, Kyle announced he was hungry and asked if he could get some pizza. “Dude, we’re in New York City. We can get anything we want.” All tuckered out from a day of shopping, dining and theatre going, Megan and her pal Mallory headed up to bed, while my boy and I ventured onto the darkened streets of the cement jungle in search of a slice of life and another Quicken entry.