Random, Random, Random Updates

1. So we were thinking of being the X-Men for Halloween as a family. I'm going as Gambit because I think he is just such a cool character who was never represented well in the films. The wife is going to be Storm. She and I are just going to piece together our outfits with thrift store stuff. Erik (who will be 4-years-old next month) is going to be Wolverine - probably will have to spring for a costume. And do you know what Erik said? "Do you know what would be funny? Desi (our 1-year-old) can be Professor X!" It's actually a great idea. We can push him in the stroller when we trick-or-treat and make the stroller look like a wheelchair with big X's for wheels, put him in a suit, and he's already pretty much bald. It's going to be great. If there is trick-or-Covid-treat. 

2. This upcoming weekend we are going to stay at a hotel with a swimming pool for a little "staycation." We got two adjoining rooms so that hopefully we can put the kids to bed and enjoy a little alone time. That's wishful thinking, so we will see. 

3. I finally got my used mountain bike working and will test it out on some trails this weekend with my good friends Choo Choo Train and Night Train.

4. Today I took Erik to school with the jogging stroller for about a 1.2 mile run, and then did another 3 or so miles or so, pushing an empty stroller for a grand total of 4.38 miles. But then I was able to push it around the grocery store and carry groceries in it, so it felt worth having it. When I went to pick him up I walked the jogging stroller up there with his scooter and helmet in it, and we walked all the way to the library and back home, logging in another 3.72 mile walk for me. My feet are killing me now, so no running tomorrow. 

5. One of my fantasy football leagues has a professional wrestling theme this season. This is a dream come true for me, but I'm a little disappointed in myself for not coming up with a good team name. So far my finalists are The Diamond Dallas Cowboys or The Dog Faced Gremlins. I'm not in love with either. Help me out if you can!

That's all I got, friends. Hope all is well with all of you. Hit me with a random, random, random update in the comments. 

The Covid 13.1

The cancelled holidays, plans, family time, swimming, just about everything - it all sucks. The rescheduled concerts are particularly annoying because they will be pushed back to the following year. It is hard to remember who bought the tickets, which friends were going, sometimes the show gets downgraded from a weekend to a school night, and hell, some bands could break up or die in a year! Also, they only guarantee the appearance of the headliner, and sometimes I bought the tickets more because I like one or two of the opening acts. 

I also had like 3 running races cancelled this summer. This is why some friends and I organized our own race in a trail in a suburban forest preserve where we all plan on wearing shirts and bibs from cancelled races. The race is tomorrow, and I will somehow have to run 13.1 miles with very little training. We got a pretty decent turnout and we are raising money for a local children's hospital. 

Got my stuff laid out like a dork. Only running dorks do this.

Hey, I'm now going to get "political" with no segue whatsoever: I had some thoughts about when people seem to freak out and get all defensive about Black Lives Matter and start in with the "all lives matter" crappola. I mean, the obvious explanation is probably that they're just racist, or probably more accurately, they are racist and do not know they are racist. Because why get so mad and defensive? Because here is the what occurred to me today: For years and years the country was way too racist, such as hanging black people from trees, blasting them with fire hoses, making them use separate bathrooms and other facilities, basically dehumanizing them. So, years and years later out of a response to police officers killing black people, we are now saying Black Lives Matter and some white people get mad about that and say, "Not everything is about race!" But here is what I'm saying, if we spent hundreds of years being way too racist, is there really any harm in perhaps being a extremely racially conscious for a little while, and what is the harm in doing so? I think the people who take offense to BLM are likely the same who take offense to having to wear masks in public places. I'm positive there is a correlation. 

Just my opinion and merely theories. I don't claim to know everything. I welcome discussions in the comments, and I'm not a psycho who yells and swears at anyone when they disagree. Or if you want to stay out of the race topic, just comment on (running) races or concerts or whatever from earlier in the post. Or comment on something completely separate from all this stuff. Wish me luck in my race tomorrow morning and do a dance so it doesn't rain on me.

Vacation In a Tiny But Mighty State, Too Much Darn Running, My Aching Back, and The Mats

1. Vacation in a Tiny but Mighty State

We just got back from a vacation with Mrs. Noisewater's family in Rhode Island. Her brother rents out a beach house for us every year for us all to get together and be beach bums for a week. It is good for Baby Noisewater to see his cousin (who is close in age to him) for an extended period of time, since his cousin lives all the way out in New York. All his cousins on my side of the family are fully grown. I must say that after a rocky start of smacking each other in the head any time they wanted each other's toys, they gradually became very close and wanted to play together all the time. 

On the final day when we were packing up the rental car I got a call from the airline who gave me an offer to fly out the following day instead in exchange for 600 dollar vouchers each, plus vouchers for the price of each of our outgoing flights, plus the cost of a hotel and our meals for the last day. Hard to pass that up, and we got to check out Providence, R.I. for the first time, a wonderful little city. And now we have dough stored up and ready to take us on our next vacation. I have already been thinking of friends I haven't seen in forever who I should visit, and it shouldn't have been a matter of money to make me consider it. But I guess that's just how it goes. 

2. Too Much Darn Running

I got in some nice runs during the vacation as part of my marathon training. I had a 16 miler scheduled for last Sunday, but because I ended up flying in Sunday instead of Saturday, I had to get on the lake path during the 90 degree heat rather than in the much cooler morning. I met my friend Night Train for the first part of it (as he was wrapping up 16 miles of his own). We started getting back into running together a few years back, but he is a little younger and just a better athlete in most every way. While our pace used to be about the same, now he crushes marathons with a pace well below 8 minutes. That's like my 5K pace. So his long, slow run pace is like me hauling ass as fast as I possibly can. The four miles I did with him in the heat wiped my ass out so badly that I had to stop at 10 instead of the 16 I had planned on. 

Quitting is not something I do when I run, so this was very disheartening. How I perform this upcoming Sunday for a 15 miler is crucial. I want to eliminate the heat factor by getting out earlier, and eliminate the Night Train pace factor by not running with him (which is a little sad because I like his company). If I quit with those variables controlled for, then it's a matter of I'm behind in my training or I have become a quitter. 

3. My Aching Back

I posted a social media video doing push-ups with Baby Noisewater on my back. I did a couple similar baby workout videos when Erik was a baby, but now he is more of a toddler. Naturally he is now heavier and more active. It is perhaps the strain from the toddler push-ups that paved the way for the injury the following morning at the water park. I slid down a water slide with him for like the 15th time, and while half-submerged in water I tried to hoist him out of the trench which is when the lower-left part of my back clenched up. I tried to walk it off and stretch but the pain wasn't going anywhere. Naturally, he wanted to do that slide another 9 times, despite me guiding him towards other less painful experiences. Little kids have an innate sense of knowing what you don't want them to do, and knowing that must be the cooler and more dangerous thing. I guess that's something they continue to master as they reach their teenage years. I sprung for a massage today. I got a deal with the spa connected to my gym for a two for one, but all they had left for today's massages were dude practitioners. Oh well. I needed it today, so I just went with the man-on-man action. Anyone have a preference with sex of their masseuse or does that totally not matter to you?

4. The 'Mats

I read a ton of rock and roll biographies, and I can say without a doubt that "Trouble Boys" about the Replacements is the best of that genre. I was a casual fan when I started, and now I have slipped into that true fanatic status that so many 'Mats fans lay claim to. As a matter of fact, I didn't feel a right to call them The 'Mats before I read it, but after reading the book, which led to revisiting all the albums, watching tons of interviews, and getting into Westerberg's songs to the point where you feel like he is speaking to you, I'm now an obsessed 'Mats fan. I suggest you give the book a read because they are like no other band. You have Bob Stinson's tragic upbringing that led to his severe mental health problems and eventual dismissal from the band. You have his brother Tommy joining the band at 13-years-old, dropping out of school and being raised by a hard drinking and hard drugging rock and roll band. This is something that would never be allowed for in today's society, and it's fascinating that it ever happened at all. 

Then you have the band's leader, Paul Westerberg, who simultaneously wanted to be have a big hit bunform to anything. He would et didn't want to coither self-sabotage the band or just be met with unfortunate circumstances every step of the way. That and they had a brand of music that doomed them to be cult heroes rather than household names. Or maybe all of this was a master plan to be snubbed and broke during their time, but to hold up better than any other band of the 1980's. Yes, the songs themselves have their hooks in people, but those wild and unpredictable drunken shows where they read an audience and decided to do play the exact opposite of what that audience wanted to hear (an all country show for punk fans, for example), made everyone who attended feel like they were part of a one of a kind show, like they were in on the joke, and like that one show they saw was historic. This also extended their legacy. 

When they reunited in 2013 I had a ticket to see them at Riot Fest, a weekend long rock festival in Chicago. My friend smuggled in a bottle of Jack Daniels, and drinking my way through Suicidal Tendencies and the Pixies, I was so horribly over served and tired that I decided to take myself home before the Replacements even took the stage because I had to work the next day. I looked at the set list and it was just about every song I would have wanted them to play. It will always be one of my all-time rock regrets, but then again, getting too drunk to see The Replacements is kind of the perfect story arc. 

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I got a metal show that I'll be seeing tonight (Spirit Adrift), and I don't work tomorrow. A friend I was going with cancelled last minute. With the back killing and needing sleep more than metal at the moment, I almost decided to skip it. But then when I asked an old friend to go, he said he would. Yeah, missing these guys isn't likely to become anything like missing The Replacements, but I'm not taking my chances. I'm not quitting on stuff anymore, be it with concepts, running, staying in touch with friends, or anything else. Talk to you later, my blog buddies til the end . . .

Senseless Updates About Snow, Property, and Running

Snow Day:

I got a snow day off from work so I spent the day with Baby Noisewater. Chicago got around a foot of snow on Friday, and it's still coming down on Saturday. Not much on the agenda on a snow day other than a snow journey, so I bundled the little guy up and outside we went. It's hard for him to walk in boots, which led to him falling face first into snow. He didn't even cry. His freezing face didn't even effect his mood. In fact, he was greeting strangers on the street by saying, "Hi." and then warning them, "coooooold." That's his version of small-talk banter with the neighbors.

"Hi! Coooold!"

Condo

It looks like the Noisewaters will be closing on a condo very soon and staying in the fine city of Chicago. Not only will I be a homeowner for the first time, but I'm pretty excited about some things that often escape me in shitty apartments such as in an unit washer/dryer, a dishwasher, a spare bedroom, and my very own parking space. I know these amenities come standard to a lot of you, but this is some high class baller-ass shit to a guy like me. Scrubbing dishes all these years has made me very humble, and it's time to finally kick back and relax.

I told you all a few posts ago that we have been making an extra effort to save money, and one way we are doing this is to use a Google Docs spreadsheet to log in everything that we spend for a month. I highly recommend trying this out to make yourself more self-conscious of all the junk you buy that you don't need. When you find yourself in the checkout aisle eyeballing that Payday candy bar, you suddenly think, "Do I really want to log that $2.12 into the spreadsheet?" Also, you and your spouse will be keeping each other accountable. It's not uncommon after telling your spouse about an expenditure to hear in return, "Did you put in on the sheet?" It actually works. Try it out for a month and come on back to leave in the comments how it worked out for you.

Marathon:

I also let you guys know a few posts ago that I was signing up for the Chicago Marathon that will take place in October. Actually, it's 238 days, 19 hours, 42 minutes, and 10 seconds away. Well, I got in! No backing out now. This will be my second one, and I'm a hell of a lot older now. I'm sort of training early, helping my buddy Night Train who has his first marathon in the Spring in California. His program calls for a long slow run every Sunday, which is perfect because I'm slower than he is. This Sunday is supposed to be a 12-miler, but with this snow we might go with the treadmills. It's pretty boring on the machines, but you can watch basketball, talk to your partner next to you, and the ones we use have courses with little TV screens showing you running your route in different locations complete with little facts along the way. Last week I chose running up and down the Haleakalā volcano in Hawaii because I sort of did that in Hawaii on my Honeymoon. Some dudes picked us up in a van at like 4AM to drive us up the volcano, we watched the sun come up appearing to be coming up through the mouth of the volcano like it was giving birth to the sun , and then we coasted down on bikes. Then we had the whole day beginning having already done all that awesome shit. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. Watching on the little screen at the gym wasn't quite as amazing, but at least it reminded me of a good time.

Hey, that's all I got, friends. Sorry nothing mind-blowing or eye-opening today. Just updates on the little life I lead. Leave a comment if you gave this a read and maybe I'll say something super in return.

My Day Up Until Now

I used a website called Random Subject Prompts and the one that popped up was: "Write about your day so far." So, let's do that.

5:30AM - I wake up to hear the cutest voice ever saying "dada" in the next room. Sorry to disappoint you, Little Man, but it's Momma's turn; we switch off mornings. I couldn't get back to sleep so I picked up where I left off in my Jim Henson biography. Basically that dude changed the face of children's television and pretty much invented it in terms of the format we still see today. Previous puppet shows on television had a little stage where the puppets moved about, but what he and his female partner did in the 1950's (while he was in college) was look at a little monitor and let that space that the viewers could see be the boundaries of the stage. He was the first to let the puppets themselves be the stars of the show and brought those characters to life.

I was trying to explain to Mrs. Noisewater when we were watching a modern "Sesame Street" that it was no good because the kids in the show were clearly actors. Corny as all hell. Back in the 1970's it was an organic experience of the kids just having conversations with the puppets as if they were real people. The kiddos reacted to what the puppet was saying, and the puppeteer fed off of the spontaneity and whimsy that the children brought to the scene. This scene below is the best example of what I'm talking about. The girl had her little joke and was cracking herself up, so Jim made Kermit pretend to get all frustrated. And then the unexpected pull at the heart strings at the end brings it all home for a truly magic moment.



7:00AM - Fell back asleep eventually and got up feeling like a million bucks. 7AM is really sleeping in during the baby days. I made myself a French press cup of coffee with my birthday gift of a press and a grinder. If you don't have one, I recommend it. I'm amped with fuel for the whole day, and I just kind of love the whole process of brewing it.

Cat mug not included.

9:00AM - Went for a run with my buddy Night Train who lives down the street. He is training for his first marathon in the Spring in Big Sur, California, and I have my 2nd one in September here in Chicago. Topics discussed that I can remember were: Parenting styles, break ups, our upcoming Man Night get together with friends, whether or not Tom Brady is faking an injury to play head games with his opponents, and what makes an ideal roommate. If you're anything like me, you do your best thinking when you run, and it really helps to have someone with you to hash out all of life's problems and reflect on the minutia of all things off of the running path.

10:30AM - Mrs. Noisewater was meeting a friend at the Women's March, and she made this terrific sign. The other side has a clock that says "Time's Up." What is funny is that she showed the boy the typical way of protesting with a sign by shaking it up and down and doing a ra-ra chant, so Baby Noisewater did the same and babbled about what may or may not have been about women's rights but more likely was about Thomas the Train and his rights in the rail yard.



12:10 - We are currently on a major budget restriction, trying to save for a more proper home for the family, somewhere with in-unit washer/dryer, a dishwasher, and a proper bedroom for the Little Man. For this entire month we are tracking everything we spend on a spreadsheet. If either of us buys something, even a can of soda at the gas station, it has to go onto our spreadsheet. Believe it or not, it really does make you more conscious of what you need and don't need to buy. Hence, I opted for a free activity for the baby and took him to the library. Here he is playing with a random girl that was there. He is so social, but mostly with the ladies. It was impressive that he recognized that his partner had more advanced fine motor skills, so he opted to be the guy who fetched the bricks for her to carefully put into place. He has the brute strength and cute strength.

And that about takes us to the current time. Tonight we will stay in and continue to spend zero dollars. There is some movie about a mute gal falling for a merman that is supposed to be quite good, so we may stream that one free and illegally.

I rather liked this writing activity because when you take the time to write about your day, you find yourself a little more convinced that it was all time well spent.

Be well, Blog Buddies.

Me Too Dave

Mrs. Noisewater and I just got back from a trip to Ireland for a wedding. Her parents came all the way out from California to stay at our place in Chicago with Baby Noisewater while we were gone. We are so lucky to have family to do things like that for us, but truth be told, they cannot get enough of the little guy and were sad to go back. He is a charmer.

Baby Noisewater Cheerios Head

The 500th book Baby Noiseater made grandpa read to him.

We learned something right away on our travels, and that is this: Traveling without a kid is really damn easy. All we had to do was get ourselves on the plane on time. No strollers, no putting all kinds of baby stuff through security, no security opening our bags because formula looks like coke, and no chasing crawling baby around while waiting for the flight. We even had a few drinks. Why in the hell did I bitch about traveling back when I had no kids? Also, what in the hell did I do with all that free time before we made a baby? If you said blog a heck of a lot more, you wouldn't be wrong. I'm doing the best I can, my friends.

So it rains a lot in Ireland. Did you know that? I have been there twice now, and I think that I enjoyed about 30 minutes of sunshine. Total. I ran twice while out there this time, and I did document some beautiful blue skies while they came out so briefly, plus a fantastic rainbow. I don't think the photo truly does it justice. That was the happiest I was. Except for when I was laughing about the guy I would meet later that day . . .

And if you said I should have kept running towards it to find a pot of gold, you're not the only one.

Mrs. Noisewater, her friend McDonald, and myself went to The Little Museum of Dublin, which we thought was a bunch of miniatures on display. In reality, it is a small building with tiny rooms with various exhibits of human-sized items. Very quaint. On our way out a local told us that we should go around the corner to see the smallest bar in Ireland (and some claim the world's smallest bar). They aren't lying - It is a cramped, little bar, and there is no way it is a approved by any fire marshal worth his salt. You go down a narrow staircase into a shoebox of a tavern with extremely low ceilings. And with what can only be a cruel joke, a 6 foot 4 man tends bar, literally ducking his head under beams to pour the drinks. He had to have banged his noggin a few dozen times before conditioning himself to bow under each time he steps forward.

The moment we set foot in there, four men in ties swarmed Mrs. Noisewater. I asked one of them to take our picture, and the man who called himself Dave put his arm around her and said, "sure" . . . waiting for me to take a picture. He knew damn well that I didn't want a picture with his stupid ass in it.

I said, "No, sir. I mean can you take a picture of me, my wife, and my friend?"

"Oh this is your wife?" He replied. "Sure, all take your picture." But then as he was taking the shot, one of his other pervert friends jumped in front to photo bomb and flicked the bird.

Running along this bridge on either side was good fun. I should have took a picture of the bridge going across that looked like a giant harp.

If Mrs. Noiswater was at all flattered by the attention these business men were showing her, that quickly faded when she would see those boys stand at the bottom of the staircase pouncing on every female who set foot in there. These lads certainly fished with a big net. We sat and laughed with our pints as we watched Dave crash and burn with two lovely ladies. When they walked away to sit at a table, undeterred, he followed them there and joined them. They pretty much politely told him that they would rather he go away so that they could talk to one another about something, but he did not abandon ship just yet. Dave sat and waited for a moment to interject something and get back into the conversation, and when one of them talked about someone they know, perhaps one of their boyfriends, Dave blurted out loudly, "He sounds like a dick!" I laughed so hard that I nearly spit  Guiness all over that little place.

As funny as it was to watch, it also grew a little uncomfortable to watch these guys harass lady after lady. So we decided to leave. Later, McDonald and I were saying how anyone who came in contact with Dave and his merry band of perverts would instantly have one of those "#me too" stories that have been going around the internet. For this reason, we dubbed the man Me Too Dave, or #MeTooDave, if you prefer. Now, I don't at all intend to make light of anyone who has experienced harassment of any kind. It's truly an awful thing. But what we saw Dave doing was more along the lines of hitting on everything that moves and not taking no for an answer . . . Okay, fine. It was straight up harassment and pretty much wrong. But it was hard not to keep laughing any time one of us, during a quiet moment, would say Me Too Dave.

And with this last picture of an Irish sunrise, I wish you good day or goodnight.  

I got a text the other morning that a friend and coworker of mine, Cesar, was mugged. There are two types of muggings.

1. The one where you hand over all your belongings and no one gets hurt.
2. The horrific and traumatizing kind.

My friend had a Number Two, and it was the worst I have ever heard of.

Every Sunday morning Cesar likes to wake up early and walk over to the coffee shop to catch up on work. You know, doing what he is supposed to do as a functional and productive member of society. This is when he sees a car with four young men (who contribute crime and awfulness to society) do a u-turn, and he thinks nothing of it. Evidently they did a u-turn to rob him because moments later three men sneak up from behind and are all over Cesar. One shoves him into a fence, and the other two dig into all of his pockets, taking his phone, keys, credit card, and a bus card. Conceal and carrying a firearm would have done him no good with how fast these guys got into all available pockets, and then the likelihood of him getting shot would have went up - plus there would be another gun on the street.

Cesar yelled out "help" as loud as he could, and this is when two of the men punched him in the face, breaking his jaw. They asked for the code to unlock his phone, and he gave it to them. Between the three men, they could not remember it. The one guy still in the car yelled out that it was taking to long and to just "pop him." One of the men on foot then showed Cesar a gun. The guy in the car then leaned over to get something out of the glove box (likely another gun) but banged his head on something and was screaming, swearing, and bitching about how much it hurt. Between the head bumping and the guys not being able to memorize four simple numbers, it is likely these guys were strung out drug addicts. When the other three turned to check on their partner in the car, Cesar made a break for it. The three pursued him on foot, and the guy in the car zipped ahead of Cesar and pulled through an entrance to an alley to block the sidewalk in front of him. Much to the driver's surprise, Cesar leaped over the hood of the car like God damned "Night Rider!"

Walking in the opposite direction, completely oblivious to all the hollering, commotion, and crimes happening around due to being engrossed with his phone and ear buds playing loud music, was an Asian-American out for a stroll. Cesar was running towards this citizen and yelling to get his attention to no avail. So as he is running past he snatches the ear buds out of the man's ears and yells, "You're walking straight towards criminals, and they're trying to kill me!" Now Asian-American guy is turning and running in the same direction as Cesar, and the two of them ran into a local 7-11. They frantically asked the guy working there to lock the doors because the hooligans were close behind and headed towards the store, but the guy working there did not seem to believe them.

The bad guy driver actually pulled into the parking lot, but as it turns out the headlights made it impossible for the camera to see the driver, make out a license plate, or even tell the make of the car. The criminals must have known that they would be seen on cameras if they went into the 7-11, so they did not enter the store. It's a good thing the Asian-American fellow stayed for when the police came because the policeman had no idea how to track a stolen iPhone. I think the policeman should have known how to do that, but that is not the focus of this blog entry.

Cesar had to have a three hour surgery on his jaw with only local anesthetic, so he was awake for the entire uncomfortable three hours. He then had his jaw wired shut, and it will remain wired shut for six to eight weeks. The only things he can eat are liquids that can fit through his teeth. The doctor said he will likely lose around fifteen pounds, and Cesar is a thin guy to begin with. He is also traumatized, and any time it starts getting dark out, if he sees a black car, or if he sees a car do a u-turn, he begins to panic and relive the event.

Cesar's situation was one of those times where I felt so terrible for someone that I felt like I had to do something. The first thing I did was organize a Tuesday Juice Day where myself and two other coworkers switch off who is buying smoothies (one of the only things he can "eat") that morning and hang out with Cesar before work. The first Juice Day we got together is when he told us all the details about the robbery. I think it just helps him to talk to people about what has been going on with him. Two ladies who recently retired volunteered to drive him to all of his doctor appointments because Cesar does not have a car and they have the time. How nice of those ladies, right?

The second thing I am doing is on a more city-wide scale. Like me, Cesar is a jogger, and I have been coming up with a plan for a Joggers Neighborhood Watch (still looking into a clever name, so chime in with one if you have any good ones). I figure joggers could be out on patrol in those early morning hours where the criminals often strike, and we are often hyper alert when we are running. What I am envisioning is a Google Drive spreadsheet for each neighborhood where folks can fill out a calendar for what time of day they will be with a group of people on a jog (preferably groups of at least two, and even better if three or four). My hope is that as it gains popularity, folks will agree to choose that 4AM block of time if they log on late and it is one of the last slots, especially if we have an incentive program at the end of a week (like a pizza party with lots of beer) if we fill all the time slots. Joggers can check another box saying how many are in their group, what materials they have with them (whistle, pepper spray, phones, etc), and any suspicious activity they saw. My hope is that more presence out there can reduce crimes like the one that so badly impacted my friend.

If you have any other ideas I can add to this plan, please let me know in the comments. If you want to outright steal my idea, go right ahead. I'm not making any money on this, and you will be making the world safer, which is my goal anyway.

Be safe out there, friends. Don't look at your phone all the damn time when you're walking around. Be alert and aware of your surroundings. Your safety is more important than Facebook updates or Candy Crush. Ubers are everywhere, so take advantage of this and go door-to-door in a car when it is late at night or early in the morning. And if you have to walk alone late at night, do so with a friend.  

Okay, blog buddies. Thanks for listening/reading. See you next time . . .

Where the Sidewalk Ends: Beware of Ditches and Horny Weirdos

My dad was out for a walk around the neighborhood the other day on the street due to the fact that there was no sidewalk during that stretch. Suddenly he sees a woman dash out onto the street to stop him.  He thought there might be some kind of emergency, but instead she says, "Have you found Jesus?" This was not the kind of conversation Kenneth Sr. wanted to be involved in during his morning walk, but like his son, he is really nice to weirdos who want to talk to him and has a hard time getting out of those situations.

She told him that she was an alcoholic for a number of years and is lucky to be alive, and that the only way she ever got clean and sober was to find Jesus. She said that one time she was so drunk that she fell in a ditch. She then pointed out the very ditch that she fell into. I suggested that one way out of that situation would be that the two of them could go get a closer look at the ditch, Kenneth Sr. could shove her in said ditch, and run like hell. I'm sure he considered it as she went on-and-on, especially when she said, "You have such nice curly hair. Would you like to come inside for a cup of coffee?" I laughed my ass off when I heard this. The seamless segue from the curly hair to invite inside could only mean that she has given up "the sauce," but she has not given up her other vice: flagging down strange men on the street and doing sex to them.

The situation was getting very strange to say the least, but he was saved when crazy lady saw the streets and sanitation man approaching and said, "Oooh, he is a recovering alcoholic like me. I have to go talk to him." That was Kenneth Sr.'s cue: He ran like hell. He has not been able to run properly lately for years due getting older and nagging injuries. However, on this day he ran faster than he did in those track meets in high school he was always telling my sister and I about.

Kenneth Sr. now takes a slightly different route on his walks. Here is the usual route he had been doing for years now.

And pictured below is the route he now takes every morning.

What do you think, friends? Anyone have any weirdos in their neighborhood or anywhere else that you find yourself avoiding?

The other day just about the only thing I had to do for the entire day was put a baby crib together. How long could that really take? Well, little did you know I got a C- in Industrial Arts in Junior High, and I suck at this sort of thing. If there is anything that could have been done wrong, I did it wrong. Two different times I figured out way too late that I had put something on backwards and had to take apart just about everything to get it put on right. Believe it or not, I woke up all sore the next day from sitting on the floor in awkward positions screwing screws into stubborn bolts. 

This was my first real dad task, and I'm not going to say it was a complete failure. Sure, there were a lot of bumps in the road and a lot of swearing, but I stuck with it and got it done. I think it was a metaphor for what parenting is going to be like from what I hear from my friends: You have to figure it out as you go, you're going to suck at it at times, but you just stick with it and stay positive. And they'll be lots of extra parts. Okay, that makes no sense. I suck at carpentry and metaphors. 

I ran the Chicago Rock and Roll Half Marathon last weekend. I have figured out that halves are plenty for me. No more full ones because those destroy perfectly good bodies. My good buddy, Night Train, and I run around 10 miles once every weekend, and it's been great for keeping weight off and gives us time to recover. Also, that way you don't get sick of running when it's just once a week. The race went really well for us, and they had live music along the way. They also had rock impersonators, and I tested the Blues Brothers guys and said to them as I ran by "Orange whip . . . Orange whip . . .," I was very pleased and impressed that they both responded with "Three orange whips!" and did the proper hand motion. The Elvis impersonator looked very hot, sweaty, and hungover, so I didn't engage him with any fun pop quizzes. He looked busy concentrating on not throwing up on himself. 

Hot yoga has been a great way for me to recover from running way too far and taking entirely too long to assemble things with seemingly simple instructions. Usually I'm just about the worst yogi (that's what they call yoga participants) in the class, and that's fine. You have to be willing to be the suckiest guy in the room before you can get better at anything. I'll tell you right now that I'm in decent shape but can't touch my toes. Not even close. Slowly I'm getting more flexible, and I always leave feeling refreshed and thinking with a clear head. However, yesterday right when the class ended, some country music kicked in and continued for at least four songs while I was in the locker room. I would prefer they play any innocuous new age wind chime music music that just blends into the background. That's fine and expected. But, I can't relax when I'm listening to a song about some guys drinking a six pack of beer in the back of a pick-up truck. Unless I'm right there in the back of that truck with them. Country makes me angry, and I can't tune that crap out. 

Always good to have a spotter

When I was in high school I left my alarm clock-radio alarm (I'm old) on the other end of the room and had it set on the country station. That way I knew I wouldn't lie in bed and listen to the music because I knew I would have to run across the room to turn it off or slowly lose my mind. So, it's been a long history of hating country music. I was thinking of leaving a complaint with the yoga studio, but I'll just complain to you guys instead because that's what I've always done.

So running, volleyball, and yoga have been about it as far as exercise goes lately, and I have been losing some muscle tone. I have been avoiding doing any kind of weight training due to an elbow problem, but today the elbow felt pretty good so I pumped some (really light-weight) iron. You know that debate kids have on the playground where they say "My dad could beat up your dad?" Well, what I don't want is some kid saying that to Kenny Jr. and poor Kenny is left saying, "You're probably right. My dad has pipe cleaner arms and can't even screw together simple wooden structures with directions that even a chimp can follow. He's hardly a man at all, but he can do a downward facing dog in his hot yoga class that will make your head spin!" That won't score him any points at all out there on that playground. 

No segue at all here, but I was at work not too long ago, and a coworker said, "Kenneth, I saw on Facebook that we have a mutual friend." She said the friend's name, and the name meant nothing to me. I looked it up, and it is a blog buddy. She was saying what a great dude he is, and it made me happy to hear that. I said he is an excellent writer, and she said that he helped everyone write their term papers in college. This pleased me too for some reason. I was proud of this dude I have never met. Then I had to explain to this coworker that I had never met him, and I'm a grown-ass man with pen pals. 

One blog buddy I have met is SO@24, and I was reminded recently of the time we first met in L.A., and for reasons I can't remember, we recreated the suggestive cover art from Hall and Oates' 1982 release, "H20." I thought of this because I went to an outdoor Hall & Oates show last night on a very hot and humid Chicago night with my sister, her boyfriend, and my very pregnant and sweaty wife. Believe it or not, we were actually just as sweaty as Daryl Hall and John Oates were in the picture! 

(Hall & Oates)

(Dr. Ken and SO@24. We should have got sweatier or just spritzed water on our faces. It will always be one of my biggest regrets.)

There has been no real rhyme or reason to where this post has been headed, and I'll just end it here. Go ahead and leave a comment related to any of the scatter shot of topics I have run down in this rambling stream of consciousness, or just say hello to your insane pen pal buddy from Chicago. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to admire the glorious crib that big daddy built with his own. bare. hands! 

Updates, Some Written On the Wall

I saw this picture inside a Port-O-Potty the other day. Hey, what do you call Port-O-Johns in your neck of the woods? I know a guy from St. Louis who informed me that everyone out there calls them Johnny On the Spots.

Back in the day you had to call for a good time. Now you just text. I don't think "Jenny (867-5309)" would have been a hit had Tommy Tutone been advising people to text Jenny for a good time. Come to think of it, why in the heck was that a hit to begin with?



Mrs. Noisewater is still pregnant with our first kiddo, and we're around 6 months along. I think this kid is hyperactive like me because he/she is kicking the bejesus out of her - right in the colon! I feel bad if I passed my AD/HD onto this poor little person. Or maybe he's just anxious to come out, and he's trying to kick his way out? Early would be fine, actually, because the poor girl is going to be pregnant as hell through the heart of a hot, muggy, Chicago summer. Come on out early, Star Scream! (That's a running joke between Mr. Shife and I)

I've been running around 10 miles every weekend. I did a little over 11 today, and I feel great. It's good to get back into running because it really does clear my head. There was a race going on, and I was trying to high five people when they were running in the opposite direction of me. Hardly anyone wanted any part of it. Strange. They all looked too worried about their times to get a high five. But I love a high five on race day. Different strokes, I suppose. Different strokes for boring folks.

I was at work the other day and asked a little kid what the crummiest thing to happen to him was all school year. He thought for a minute and decided it would be the day he got hit in the penis six times with a soccer ball. This is awesome for a number of reasons.

1. I love that he knew the exact number of instances.
2. Most kids would say they were hit in the balls, but he opted for penis.
3. I like that he didn't swear. He went with the biological term.
4. He had a slight lisp, so he said "penith."

See you later, Seven Readers. And may soccer balls be nowhere near your private parts.

Today's Inner Monologue During the Race

Don't worry, Dr. Ken, that's just pain leaving the body.  Wait, the pain is still here for sure.  The phrase is "pain is weakness leaving the body."  That makes more sense because the pain is here for sure, as is the weakness.  This just must be plain old pain.