Unsound Sound-Off

For as much noise as I make, I generally receive very little myself. You see what I have to say, so now I want to see what you have to say. Let’s try something to stir things up a bit. I want to see what’s on your mind. Anything from the NFL playoff picture, to Christmas shopping, to your new car. Hear some ridiculous blatant lies on the AM radio this morning and would like to tort them as fact? This is the place! I assure you won’t be judged for whatever your views, comments rants or raves happen to be. I won’t generally censor anything that’s written unless it includes unnecessary profanity (this is a family site, for crying out loud), but your comments will remain intact other than that. So let’s try it. Tell me what you’ve really been wanting to say. Blow off some steam. Tell me about your boss, or spouse, or the weird guy down the street that checks his mail in sock garters and his wife’s robe. Just tell me something.

Fudge

Ever have a moment that you think back on and it still makes you cringe? You know what I mean. Either you sent out a bad email about someone to that person by mistake, or you had a most unfortunate slip of the tongue at the most inopportune moment. Well, the latter is what happened to me some 10 years ago, and it still makes me involuntarily wince when I think about it. I’ve probably got a hundred moments I could write about, and this is certainly not the worst, it’s just one of the funnier moments.

Just out of high school and trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, I obtained a job at Wal-Mart until I could settle on a career path. My job at Wal-Mart, though grossly underpaid, was one of the more fun jobs I’ve ever had. Sure, I hated it at the time, but looking back I had a lot of fun. My post was the electronics department. For the most part, I caught on quick with technology, and I like to think I was able to actually help some of the customers who were there seeking it.

Until I started working there, the last video game system I owned was the original “Nintendo Entertainment System” that I received for Christmas back around 1987. I saved enough money while working at Wal-Mart to buy a Playstation and a couple games. This is valid to the story, I assure you. Not only did I like playing video games in my spare time, but I wanted to be able to give customers honest advice and feedback when they had questions about our various game systems. Since buying a Game Cube and Dreamcast along with the Playstation was out of the question, I figured I would at least have firsthand knowledge of one game system that we sold. Another game system that was out around that time was the Nintendo Game Boy; a handheld video game system that you could take with you anywhere. I got one of those as well since they were much cheaper than the big systems.

Enter the nice lady looking to purchase a game system for her son. She was a nice lady that had absolutely no clue about video game systems, other than she didn’t want to spend a lot on one. I asked how old her son was, and for the sake of continuing the story without being hung up on me not remembering arbitrary details, we’ll say she told me he was 10. I then proceeded to find out a bit more information, such as did he want a hand held game system that he could take with him on long trips, or something that he could hook up to the T.V. and play only at home. I advised her that the best systems of each type, in my opinion, experience and for the money, were the Playstation and the Nintendo Game Boy. I then told her about each system’s pros and cons. I would switch back from telling her about the Playstation, and then about the Nintendo Game Boy.

I apologize to reiterate a small detail, but she was a very nice lady. If I were to say anyone “looks” like a Christian, this lady was it. As my memory recalls, she had on a white cashmere sweater that seemed to radiate some kind of glowing light as if she were a saint. All I could think about was trying to get this nice lady all the information that was in my head so she could make the most informed decision as a consumer. I started to really get excited that I was able to so flawlessly list every specification of each system as if I had designed them myself. I could tell my information was being properly received, because the nice lady was giving me all the right feedback. She was making all the right facial expressions of a consumer receiving an education in game systems. I was in the zone.

That’s when it happened. Some of you may have seen the handwriting on the wall from two paragraphs ago.

I was so involved in my descriptions of the game system that I made a fatal slip of the tongue. A reenactment, if I may: “Playstation does this, Game Boy does that, Playstation does this, Game Boy does that, Playboy….er….Playstation….” I didn’t need a mirror to know that my face immediately turned a raging crimson within mere seconds of those words falling out of my mouth, I could feel it. My mind went blank, but my mouth kept moving. I don’t know what else I said after that slip up, and I don’t remember if she ended up buying either system. I just remember that during that moment, time slowed down. Everything I said was slow motion, and only the word "Playboy" was enunciated with pristine clarity and utter perfection. Not only that, but it was emphasized as if it didn’t come from my vocal region, but from my diaphragm, and with great conviction. Think of A Christmas Story when Ralphie blurts out “Fudge”. That’s exactly how it was in my situation.

I noticed what I initially thought to be a slight embarrassed smile try to grace the nice lady’s face, but now I’m quite sure it was her just trying to stifle a full on laugh. After she left, I kept replaying that moment in my head. What bothered me the most, was wondering what she thought. Did she think I was just a typical perverted guy that has nothing else on his mind? Did she think I thought she belonged in such a magazine? Did she see the tricky connection between the two game systems so similar in name to the aforementioned magazine? For the remaining hours at work, and continuing on for years to come, the slightest thought about that evening would cause me to cower like a dog about to get beat. I don't remember ever seeing the nice lady in the store again after that, or in the magazine, for that matter. Who knows, maybe you're reading the story right now, nice lady.

A Tradition Lives On

It’s been one week, and I honestly didn’t know for sure that I would ever write, let alone post, this one. I wasn’t sure what angle to approach this from since I didn’t want to convey an inaccurate viewpoint. I suppose at the end, it’s best to just write and not think. It just seems to be easier that way. I’ll go ahead and apologize again ahead of time for making this so lengthy (as well as a bit technical). As I’ve said before, I really don’t know any other way to tell a story.

Just about everyone who knew my dad knew his car. It was a 1956 Chevrolet Bel Air, 2 door post, hardtop. Two-tone baby blue and white with American Mags. Black tuck and roll interior, 350 small block and a newly installed 700R transmission. I go into detail because even as I type this, I like to picture it for myself. I could go on and on about the minute details; everything from the cracked speedometer lens to the factory radio in the dash. From the flip down tail light gas door to the blue interior dome light. I literally knew this car inside and out. It was, after all one of the more paramount possessions in the household. I know that probably sounds a bit over-the-top to some of you, but it’s the only way I can think to describe it. Besides, the car had a lot of history. In our family, classic cars are somewhat of a tradition.

I’m not 100% certain on all the details, but I’ll try to tell it as I know it. My dad originally acquired the car for $25 from a friend. I remember him telling me the boy he bought it from brought it home, and his father told him to get rid it. I don’t know how old he was, but I’m pretty sure he was in high school (for some reason 15 was in my mind, but I could be wrong). He made a variety of modifications to the car over the years. Early on, he made it into what was basically a drag car that he drove on the streets. He gutted the interior and installed two fiberglass racing bucket seats (can you see mom sitting shotgun in a fiberglass racing seat? It happened!), and installed a 327 with tunnel ram, a 4 speed transmission and headers. He also took the front end off, and installed a fiberglass tilt front end. The hood scoop had a meticulously painted Rat Fink on it courtesy of my uncle. I’ve only seen a couple of pictures when it was in this state, and I just wish I could have taken a ride in it back then. According to firsthand accounts of people who were lucky enough to ride in it, the thing was a rocket on wheels. He used to tell me he couldn’t just drive it to the grocery store and back or it would foul the plugs. It wasn’t just meant to be driven around; it was meant to be opened up, foot the floor and blown out. Sure, it was legal to drive on the streets, but it wasn’t built for that.

Later on he returned it to more of a daily driver. He put the bench seats back in it, a much more modest 350, automatic transmission and real metal hood/fenders. This is how I remember it growing up. Of course, it was still a hot rod, and always would be. I remember lying under the car, working on it with him and seeing that Thrush bird looking back at me from the glass pack mufflers. Any time we would take a ride somewhere in it, and then return home, he would give me a special treat after we pulled in the garage. He would rev the engine real high allowing the glass packs to “backrap” (or “Make it ‘backfire’ dad!”). It was loud, it echoed and popped, but it was the greatest thing in the world to a 5 year old boy. It just sounded like a race car.

As the years went on, he continually worked on the '56, turning it more into a classic car that could be driven around, and even taken out of town. I enjoyed watching, and helping, the car evolve. It became a car that he was even able to enter in a car show (I’m thinking it might have even won something, but I’m not positive about that).

Unfortunately, after dad got sick, the car lived in the garage. He did a little bit of work on it at first, but for the most part it just sat on jack stands with a car cover on it. He had a laundry list of plans for that car, but just never got around to it. As the years went on, the condition of the car progressively got worse. Oxidation set in and the tires started to rot. It was sad to look at the car in that state, but it stood for something to look forward to. Dad and I would sit there for hours and just talk about the things we were going to do to the '56, “soon”. It was often times a favorite topic while we smoked our cigars. I almost feel a bit guilty about the times he helped me work on the Camaro, but we never really did anything to the '56. I keep thinking that we could have been spending time on his car instead, but it’s not something I regret. In fact, one of my favorite memories was us working on the Camaro together just this year (*Deep breath* focus).

After dad passed, it was only fitting that my brother get the ‘56. I’m so excited that it’s been handed down to him because I know he has the means to complete the list of things dad wanted to do to it, and make it the car he envisioned. Not only that, but he’s able to provide a perfect home for the car.

One week ago today, we finally got the car loaded up to be taken to Arizona. I can’t really explain the emotions or thoughts I had that day, because I don’t really know if I had any. I wasn’t sad, but I was. I was happy that the car would finally get the care it deserved instead of continuing to degrade in the garage. Seeing that blue and white beauty out in the driveway without a car cover on it for the first time in years, I did feel a little sad, but it’s the end result I had to keep reminding myself. I’ll never forget hearing that engine rumble to life for the first time in close to 10 years. I couldn’t do anything but smile. As I climbed behind the wheel and took the short but satisfying drive up the ramps of the trailer, I couldn’t help but thinking dad was smiling right along with me.

Take good care of her, Greg. I can’t wait to come down and see the progress it’s making!

The Cake

On our drive over to Chico this weekend (and subsequently, unbeknownst to me at the time, San Francisco), Annie was telling me a story about a girl she knows. I don’t know if I’m doing the story an injustice by giving only the pertinent parts, so, sorry Annie. The story is the base of my blog, but not the focus, so I don’t want to go into too many details.

The girl is also pregnant and saved a bit of cake from her baby shower. She enjoyed the cake so much, she sparingly consumed it over the next couple of days (something I do as well). Apparently after a night of craving the cake, she woke up to find no cake in the fridge, and a crumb filled plate accompanied by an empty glass of milk on the kitchen table.

I began thinking about that story, and how different Annie and I are. I told her that cake probably would have remained in the fridge until the battle of wills to clean the fridge collapsed for one of us. I then began to think about how funny we are about things like that. If there is only one of something left, it will stay there until turns into a fossil. It’s not laziness or un-cleanliness (at least I hope people don’t think that), but neither of us can bring ourselves to eat the last of something. I won’t say it’s true for everything we buy, but mostly rare treats.

Bread, milk, eggs; those we will finish before they go bad since they are a weekly item. Don’t get me wrong, cookies, chips and candy will be eaten to completion as well, but it usually goes something like this: ¾ of a bag of chips will disappear in 2 days, and the last quarter will last a good week, or until a new bag is purchased. Cookies will take about 3 days for the first ¾, but that last cookie may or may not ever get eaten. We will have one piece of leftover Halloween candy sitting in the big ol’ bowl on the counter until February. One shot glass full of orange juice will usually remain in the carton until it becomes orange wine. We are both aware that we do this, but neither of us can stop.

I don’t know if we’re saving it because we want to be courteous to the other person, or if we just want to get every last bit of satisfaction out of whatever special treat it is, so we want to make it last. I had a jar of hot peppers that only I eat. I ate all but 3 in the first two days, and the jar sat in the fridge for 2 weeks until Annie bought another.

When I was growing up, there were 5 other people in the house, and I wasn’t the one who went shopping, my mom was. So I don’t know if it was common courtesy on our part, but no one would eat the “last one”. This was especially true for things that were a rare treat for us. I had a reason back then though, because I didn’t go shopping. I couldn’t just grab another package of cookies, or bag of chips. I think I’ve always been this way, but only in the last 6 years of living together have infected Annie with it.

We’ve even discussed it before, and made a pact to eat whatever we see when we want it, and damn the other person’s feelings. Needless to say, it didn’t work. I would be sitting there eating the last plate of pasta and not even be able to enjoy it because I felt guilty. In between bites I would continue to offer to share. “Are you sure you don’t want any?” {munch munch} “This is really good, I can put some on another plate for you” {munch munch} “I’ve still got a few bites left” {munch munch} “Want the rest?, I probably can’t finish it anyways”{munch munch} (who’s pasta “munches”? you get the idea).

So no, I couldn’t see myself sitting at the breakfast table in the morning while my wife was sleeping, eating her last piece of cake; I’d be a wreck all day long.

Surprise Of A Lifetime

It’s definitely not inconceivable to believe that I would be totally speechless when Annie surprised me with San Francisco 49er tickets out of the blue, but that’s a theme that will take us through this next story.

Ever since I was old enough to walk (and quite possibly before that), I’ve been a 49ers fan. I can certainly thank my Mom for that, as she’s probably as big of a fan, if not bigger than I am. She’s the one that taught me about football growing up. I remember watching games on Sunday and learning from her the basics of the game.

I was lucky enough to be raised during the 80’s; the 49ers greatest decade. I watched all the greats like Joe Montana, Jerry Rice, Roger Craig, Ronnie Lott, and Tom Rathman. I watched Coach Bill Walsh take the team to 3 Super bowl titles (ok, I really only remember watching one, I was too young for the other two). My first real Super bowl memory was the 1989 Cincinnati/San Francisco game. I was dressed out in my full Joe Montana uniform, complete with shoulder pads, jersey, helmet and blue jeans stuffed with toilet paper for thigh pads. I was so into it that I even used up my mom’s mascara for eye black. The game was intense, and I can remember sitting on the floor during Montana’s last drive, glued to the screen and hoping for, and witnessing a miracle. Joe Montana led a 92 yard drive that ended in a touchdown to John Taylor with 34 seconds left on the clock to win it 20-16. I didn’t cheer and holler. I didn’t jump up and down. I was speechless. The utter magic I just witnessed was too much for me to comprehend at the time, and I remember just watching in awe. To this day, it still goes down in my book as the best Super bowl ever. It would also forever seal me as a member of the 49er faithful.

The two subsequent 49er championships were great to watch as well, but they didn’t give me that nail biting finish (55-10 over the Broncos in ‘90, and 49-26 over the Chargers in ’95). I was always proud to say I’m a 49er fan, even through the 90’s, where at the end of the decade I was witnessing a collapse in the organization. Each year brought hope for the next, and then the next. They made it to the playoffs a couple more times, but never returned to the great team I grew up watching. Through all of the good years, and bad years, I’ve never wavered in my support for the team. I proudly claim them as my team in good times and in bad. However, one thing I’ve never been able to do was watch them play live. I’ve never been to the legendary Candlestick Park.

This is where the story really begins.

Two weeks removed from our return from Hawaii, I knew Annie and I were going to take Monday, 11/9 off. We planned to go to Chico on that Saturday, and have a football party on Sunday with all of Mel and Rachel’s friends. It sounded like a lot of fun, and would probably be our last trip anywhere before the baby is here. Saturday we got everything packed, and I packed light. A couple pairs of shorts and my 49er jersey (along with the regular unmentionables) were all I needed. After all, we were going to be hanging out in the house watching football Sunday. This Sunday’s game would be against the 1-6 Tennessee Titans, so I was hoping for a win to get the 49ers back on track. We got packed, and Annie told me to load up our small BBQ, since Mel told her theirs was broken. I didn’t think twice about it, and got it loaded up. We were on our way, and ended up in Chico around 5:00. When we got there, I said hello to everyone and sat down to visit. Arica and Leanne were there to greet us as well, which is always a fun surprise.

As we were visiting, Annie left the room briefly and returned with a plain black long sleeve shirt in her hands. She said “I got you this shirt to go under your jersey”. My first thought was she was embarrassed that my Jersey was a bit see-through (due to the holes in the material), and didn’t want to have to subject everyone else at the football party to that. She then said “Because I hear Candlestick Park can get a bit cold and windy” (as in the wind blows, not curvy). My brain came to a screeching halt. Then she says “Because we’re going to the game!”, as she produced four tickets with Joe Staley on the front. I stared in disbelief at the tickets, and then just looked up at my jubilant wife who was clapping and jumping up and down. “Get out” I say, “When?” She says “Tomorrow!” Then my brain slowly starts back up, and I wonder to myself how we’re going to the game when we have a football party at the house tomorrow. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I just stared at the tickets and let the impact of what I’ve just learned slowly sink in. Apparently, the reaction I’d displayed was subpar, because when I gathered myself enough to look around the room, I just saw a bunch of disappointed faces. That’s when Annie announced “I guess this is Jeff excited”. But I was excited. I was beside myself, but couldn’t express it. I was once again speechless. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to be sitting at Candlestick Park the following day. It just didn’t make sense to me for a while. I think she caught me so off guard, it just confused me. Slowly throughout the night, the excitement began to set in. I knew there was no way I was going to sleep that night, but I didn’t care. I was off to see the 49ers, live, in person. I would be in the same stadium that some of the greatest players in history made some of the most memorable plays in history, including “The Catch”.

We woke up around 5:30 to get ready for the game. It didn’t take much to get me up and going, as I was so excited. We left the house around 6:30 and got to the stadium a little before 10:00 to begin tailgating. Thanks to some friends getting us a preferred parking pass, we were able to park only a few rows away from the entrance to the stadium. I was in a state of awe through much of the pregame. I was standing there looking at the stadium, and it just looked larger than life. We used my little BBQ to cook some sausages, and had a few beers before the game. The atmosphere was amazing, and it a lot like a family gathering. Everyone we encountered were great people that were excited to see the team they love too. We didn’t encounter a single person that was mean spirited or belligerent.

After we tailgated for a couple hours, we made our way into the stadium. Our seats were on the home side near the end zone, on the lower level, row 7. I couldn’t believe how great the seats were. We were close enough to see the players’ numbers without binoculars. The atmosphere in the stadium defies description. It was electric. I can’t even come close to describe it, so I guess I’ll just say go to a game and you’ll know what I mean. I was so full of excitement, I had to put my sun glasses on during player introductions lest I let the emotion welling up in my eyes be seen by the people around me. Especially when they introduced my favorite player, and the place erupted into a frenzy that shook the entire stadium. I couldn’t even hear the announcer say “Number 52, Patrick Willis”, because as soon as they showed his picture on the big screen, the place went nuts.

The game started and promptly ended. I sat there wondering where the last 60 minutes of football went as I saw the Titan’s quarterback taking a knee to run out the final seconds on the clock. It went by entirely too fast. I yelled my lungs out when they were on defense, and didn’t make a sound when they were on offense. I sat in that seat from player introductions until they shook hands and walked off the field. No trips to the concession stands, or to the men ’s room. I wanted to absorb every second of the experience as possible, and I can honestly say I did. The game ended with a 34-27 defeat, but I left that stadium with a smile on my face. I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy after a 49ers loss, but I was still in a state of awe.

As we waited for the traffic to clear out of the parking lot, we hung out for a few more minutes doing a post game tailgate party, and I just kept staring at the stadium. I couldn’t believe I was actually there. It’s something that probably sounds silly to most people, but I grew up seeing that place on T.V., and never imagined I would actually go watch a game there. I don’t know why, we don’t live far away, it was just never something I thought I would do. Annie had a great time too. She’s been getting into football this year, and it’s been so fun to be able to watch it with her. We had one of the most memorable times this weekend, and it’s something I will never forget.

I have to give Annie all the credit in the world, along with Mel and Rachel for being able to pull this off. Annie had planned it back in September, Mel got everything arranged. They were able to keep this secret from me since then, which if you know Annie you know couldn’t have been easy. She’s the one that like to shake the presents under the tree, while I’d rather not even look at them until Christmas morning. The anticipation had to have been killing her. I have never been as surprised as I was that night she showed me the tickets. They fully caught me by surprise.

One last note to close the theme of the blog: The game was on Sunday, and today is my first day at work. I can’t hardly answer the phone because when I try to talk, my voice is gone. I yelled so hard at that game, I think I “left my voice in San Francisco” (that was pretty cheesy, wasn’t it?). So 3 days after the game, and at the moment of this blog, I’m still speechless. Thanks for a most memorable experience, girls!

On Brewing Beer

Most of you know that one of the multiple hobbies I have is brewing beer at home. I have to admit that I haven’t done a batch in a very long time. The last batch I did was when we were living with my parents, and my dad and I made a porter. It was one of my best memories, and something I’ll have forever. In reality, it was a borderline disaster. I decided to try making my own lauter tun out of a couple of water coolers and some PVC pipe (stay with me, I’m not meaning to lose you with jargon), but halfway through the process we sprung a leak and ended up losing a little bit of the beer. It was messy, there was beer on the ground, and I burned my hand, but we kept going. A couple weeks later we had the beer bottled, and a couple more weeks later we were enjoying a nice frosty glass of our creation. It didn’t turn out bad, and dad seemed to love it. It wasn’t the best batch I’ve ever made, but it was certainly the most special. I think for that reason alone it tasted so good. I’ve actually still got a few bottles left that I can’t bring myself to drink, and doubt I ever will.

Now that we’ve moved into our new house, I’ve got all of my equipment sitting in the garage, and I’m starting to think again about doing another batch. Maybe I’ll make a tribute ale or something. I’ve since gotten more equipment, and a lot more room to make it, but I just lack the drive to get everything going.

Hawaii Trip 2009

As anticipated, this week has been busy and fast. I haven’t really had a chance to do much of anything since returning to work, so you’ll accept my apology (yes, you will) for not getting back to you in as timely of a fashion as I had hoped. As I sit here in this cold dark office, I’m starting to realize I really did have a great time on my vacation. I don’t really know yet how long this will be. The story isn’t very long in my head, but my hands tend to take over, so get comfortable just in case. Most of it is uneventful and not very humorous – I think I’m slipping. With that said, enjoy.

We arrived in Maui on schedule Saturday the 17th. The weather was warm and very humid. This being my first trip to Hawaii, I was expecting brown people in grass skirts and barefoot ukulele players to be waiting for me at the gate with great flower necklaces. Silly me. I was greeted instead by a wall of warm moisture I would come to learn was called “air” in Hawaii. I wasn’t too disappointed I didn’t get a flower necklace, however, I just wanted to find my bag so I could retrieve my inhaler I had foolishly packed in my checked baggage. I guess that whole homeland security thing has me paranoid to take anything with me on the plane, lest I be pulled aside and strip searched in front of young children and elderly travelers alike. That wouldn’t be a site anyone would want to see (save for Annie who would be laughing at me for being born an “asthmatic dork”).

As we made our way to the baggage claim, I noticed a small group of people dressed in flower shirts, flip flops, cargo shorts and colorful visors standing just outside the concourse (?) and holding flower necklaces (!). Jackpot. They weren’t brown, but I wasn’t too stuck on details. I knew cutbacks were being made everywhere, so I figured I’d rather get a flower necklace from a white guy with a camera around his neck than not receive one at all. I quickly collected Annie’s hand and did a small head bow as I walked through the doorway, which is the universal sign for “I’m ready to accept my flower necklace”. I was already thinking how long I would wear this thing, and if I should take it off when I shower, when I noticed the guy side step me with all the grace and choreography of a matador waving a flower necklace capote. Dejected, but without hesitation I played it off as if I had seen something on the ground that interested me, and only snuck a quick glance back. That’s when I realized the flower necklace was intended for what must have been the gentleman’s teenage daughter, who was walking directly behind me. I then realized there were a lot of people standing around with flower necklaces in their hands, but most of them also held a sign with someone’s name on it. The whole tradition all of a sudden then seemed ridiculous to me.

We continued on to claim our bags, and I had a brief flashback of the LAX incident from our honeymoon. (Remember that? The purple luggage, baby daddy lady and L.A. freeway just steps from the front door? Go read it here if not.) Everything had gone pretty smoothly thus far, so I was expecting something to go wrong. By the time we got to baggage claim, the bags from our flight were making their way around the carousel. Mel and Rachel found their bags right away, and I knew ours would be up any minutes. About 5 minutes went by, and still no sign of our bags. That was about when all activity from the conveyer belt stopped, and left us looking at the same 4 suitcases riding around in circles, with none of them being ours. After a second or two of collecting our thoughts, Annie spotted two purple suitcases stacked in the corner with about sixty other bags. Purple luggage, you have yet to let me down! Why did someone feel it was their duty to pull my bags from the carousel and stack them neatly in the corner, I will never know. The important part was we got them. Off to the rental car agency.

We arrived at Budget after a short shuttle ride, and found out we would be touring Maui in style in a Ford Fusion. Until, we found out we could upgrade (for a nominal fee) to an available Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. Now that’s a Hawaii vehicle. I was pretty stoked we would be cruising around with the top down, wind in our hair and all cares gone (that’s actually how I pictured it. We would be all carefree and laughing. I don’t know why…). After Mel finished all the necessary paperwork, we all met at the canary yellow Jeep where a burly island man was waiting for us. He asked if we wanted the lesson on how to put the top down, or if we just wanted him to do it. Naïve as we were, we thought perhaps a little button would do the work for us. Ha! (ok, I didn’t really think it would be that easy, but I didn’t think it would be that hard either). I told him to just do it and I’d watch. This guy was grunting, sweating and struggling for a good couple of minutes before I starting thinking this might be a bad idea. I would have no idea how take this thing off, let alone put it back together by myself. Luckily, as he got to the last step, he noticed there was a bolt missing, and told us we couldn’t have the Jeep. We ended up with the Fusion after all, and that was just fine with me. Away we went.

Our condo was about 30 miles (or an hour drive) from the airport, so we decided to get groceries before we checked in. We stopped at Costco and purchased what I would learn was entirely too much food for 4 people and 7 days. That was with only two meals in mind, too. Since one cannot simply buy a loaf of bread (it’s two, and they’re LOAFS), or a package of hot links (I believe the unit of measure is a bushel), we came away with a lot more than we would be able to eat. I think we still paid less than we would have had we shopped at the local grocery store. The prices in Maui are insane. After we got our food, we finally got to the condo. It was a nice place and even had a quaint Coy pond in a little courtyard area. Our room was a 2 bed 2 bath affair, complete with a kitchen and dining room. We were told at check-in that the room would have a partial ocean “biew” (Asians make my little heart smile), and we did. I can’t complain too much since the only obstruction was, appropriately enough, a palm tree. We also had a partial biew of the pool area, which is what I planned on swimming in more than the ocean anyways.

We got changed, cleaned up and headed across the street to a little pub/café for dinner. The food wasn’t remarkable, but it wasn’t bad either. The bill seemed pretty steep for what we got, but I found out it would actually be considered fairly reasonable by the end of our trip. After dinner we went back to the room to relax for the rest of the night.

The next day was Sunday, and since Rachel and I are pretty big football fans, we wanted to catch as many of the games that we could before we headed out. The cool thing is, in Hawaii, football starts at 7:00 a.m., and coincidentally enough, that’s as late as I could ever “sleep in” the entire trip there. We caught most of the games, and then headed out to check out the town of Lahaina for some shopping. The main intent for our trip down there was to sign up for some activities for the week. We found an activities shop, and booked our luau for Tuesday. The luau was free to us, with a simple catch. Attend a 90 minute time share presentation, and the $89 per person fee would be waived. I almost felt like I was ripping the guy off! While we were there, Annie called and booked our special dinner for Wednesday night, and a magic show for Thursday night. That left us Monday to snorkel and Friday to drive the infamous “Road to Hana” on Friday. Things were coming together. We walked most of “Front St.”, which is the main road in their shopping district, and grabbed some lunch by the sea at the Lahina Fish Co. Great atmosphere, decent food, moderate price. Nothing more to report.

We got back after our trip to Lahaina and found a snorkel shop to rent our gear for the week. We ended up fixing dinner that night, so we stayed in the rest of the evening, and even went down to relax by the pool for a while.

Monday morning came around, and I felt that familiar achy feeling of an impending illness. I pushed it aside, took some cold medicine, and got ready to go snorkeling. We were tipped off at the activities shop that one of the better off-shore snorkeling spots was at a spot called the Black Rock beach. Apparently he tells everyone that, because the beach was pretty crowded and all you could see were snorkel tubes and asses floating in the water. It was fairly comical, really. We got all set up with our gear, and Annie and I hung back for a minute while I got her gear fitted correctly. The mask wasn’t tight enough, and in my over exuberance to be a floating tube/ass combo myself, I broke the strap in half. It could have just been the sun’s reflection off the ocean, but I could have sworn I saw a little glimmer in Annie’s eye at that instant, and then it was gone. I knew she wasn’t exactly keen on floating around in the ocean, and I can’t say I blame her. We didn’t have the greatest snorkel experience in Jamaica, so it just seemed right that her mask would break to save her from having to do this. She told me to go on out and have fun, and she would just hang out on the beach. I refused, and we found an equipment shack on the beach that was nice enough to replace the strap with a new one for her.

Once again, we got geared up and headed into the water. It took a little acclimation, but eventually we were swimming out into the deeper water and seeing…sand. No fish, no octopus, no clams or whales or crabs or whatever else lives out there. Nothing but sand. We kept swimming, hand in hand, and eventually got to a large rock formation that extended out from the shore. This is where we saw a ton of fish. It really was cool, and we were genuinely having a good time. In our excitement of seeing cool stuff, we started to float closer to that rock formation. Eventually, we were floating directly on top of a bed of coral a mere 2 feet below us. I’ve heard that you’re not supposed to touch it, and I don’t know why, but I wasn’t about to find out. I yanked Annie’s arm, and kicked like crazy to get away from the evil coral only to run into some guy minding his own business. I tried my best to say sorry but it came out like “mffmmy” around my snorkel tube. Looking into that man’s confused face (he almost looked disappointed in me) made me realize just how silly this damn snorkel gear makes one look. After that, we realized how far out we had swam, and decided to head back to shore. I would say we were about a good 80 yards out, and I was already getting tired. I’m, out of shape and have asthma, not to mention that flu bug I tried to ignore. I was a bit worried, but we just let the current help us along.

We made it back to the condo after snorkeling around noon, and that flu bug decided to make a comeback. I could tell I had come down with something pretty bad. I opted to take a nap while Mel and Rachel went down to the pool area to catch the Monday night game at the little sports bar there on grounds. Eventually Annie and I joined them and had some food after we hit Walgreens for a variety of medicine. The rest of the trip is somewhat of a haze do to all of that medicine, but I’ll try my best to recall it.

The next day was Tuesday, and we had to be at the timeshare presentation at 9:00. I was not feeling good at all, but I figured I could sit through 90 minutes of a sales pitch. Rachel, Annie and myself were the only ones going and Mel stayed at the condo since we were told she couldn’t attend due to us being related. We arrived at the hotel the presentation was being held, and were given our name tags. We were then promptly whisked into a room full of other travelers sitting at small tables with salesmen, undoubtedly fulfilling their obligation in exchange for some freebie or another. Chris was our salesman, and he seemed nice enough…at first. We listened to his presentation while trying to really look like we cared, but we were all thinking the same thing; let us sign our release paper and let us go back to our vacation. Chris started out by coming across as empathetic that we were only going through the motions to receive our free luau. Then he seemed hurt that we had made our minds up already. Then he seemed irritated that we weren’t biting. Then he started gently lobbing insults (no, that’s inaccurate. More like insinuations than direct insults) and demeaning us in order to try to get a sale. Two hours into it, we were starting to get a bit antsy, and tried nudging him towards the end of his spiel. Two and a half hours into it, he wanted us to tour the facility with him. We told him no thank you, and he told us we were going to anyways. All the while continually waving the release form, aka our ticket out, in front of us. After a brief tour of a couple of rooms (one in particular having a real ocean biew), and three hours after we first arrived, we were released to enjoy the rest of our vacation. Once I returned to the room, I was feeling even worse than before, so I took a shot of Nyquil and opted to nap while the girls went out to find another beach. A few hours later they returned, and I was rested for our luau.

The luau was at the Hyatt hotel not far from where we were staying. When we arrived, we had no idea where to go, so we just wandered the beach line until we came to an outdoor amphitheatre. I was pretty excited since I seem to remember seeing on T.V. somewhere that an attendee to one of these shows usually gets…you guessed it, a flower necklace. As I walked in, I noticed a lady and a man with an arm full of, not flower necklaces, but shell necklaces. It would have to suffice. I graciously accepted the lei by performing my signature “I’m-ready-for-the-necklace-head-bow”, and actually came away with a necklace this time. We were shown to our seats, and not too long after, the show started. We ate first, which was in buffet style. The food was actually pretty good. They didn’t have anything too strange, and there was plenty of food. So much so, that I didn’t even have room for the desert buffet. The food consisted of items like the kalua pig, some noodle dish that was great, fish, poi (I did not try it, sorry) and lots of fresh fruit. The show itself started after dinner, and was great. I can’t really go into detail since I’m not sure what most of it was, but there were hula dancers, stories and lots of cool music. The show ended with what they call a “Fire knife” dancer, and it was great. The entire show was awesome, and I finally was feeling like we were in Hawaii.

The next day was Wednesday, and I was still feeling very sick. In the morning we got up early and decided to try to find the blow hole we read about in one of our books. It’s kind of like a geyser carved into a rock that spouts with each wave from the ocean. You know, like in the movie Fool’s Gold. We drove the windy (that is with lots of curves, not with lots of wind) road about 10 miles to the turnout, and ended up having to hike about another mile down to the ocean. The trail was treacherous, and not probably meant for pregnant women or sick people wearing flip flops. We made it down to the blowhole and spent about 20 minutes watching the thing spout (and trying to catch our breath for the trip back up the mountain). The trip back up pretty much took everything out of me, so again I opted to return to the room, take a shot of Nyquil and take a nap. Annie stayed behind this time as well, so Mel and Rachel went to explore while we rested. After my nap, we headed out to visit the aquarium. We got there at 4:00, and were told we might want to hurry through since the place closes at 5:00, and it takes close to an hour and a half to get through it. Knowing this, we wanted to hurry but as my luck would have it, I got held back a little. There was a little boy of about 3 with his parents and sister in front of us. I politely stood back a little ways to give them enough time to walk ahead. I’m not too sure if he could sense I was sick and in no mood to mess around, but the little boy decided to run back to me and do a fancy little dance while waving his arms and hollering in what I assume was Moroccan. I stood there and tried to side-step him. He followed. I side stepped the other way, and he followed. I briefly had a vision of the Brad Smith/Patrick Willis encounter (if you’re a regular reader, you remember I posted a link to it a couple posts back), but thought better of it. Annie collected my hand and led me past the little boy before I could have further visions. We ended up seeing a lot of cool stuff. Fish, sharks, turtles etc. I even got to poke and prod a starfish in the little tide pool. We made it through the aquarium in about 45 minutes, and in plenty of time to make it to our special dinner.

The dinner that night was set for a restaurant on the sea called Mama’s Fish House. We were advised to get reservations, so Annie did that during our Sunday trip to Lahaina. When we got to the restaurant the valet parked our car for us. We wandered down to the beach and watched some windsurfers for a little while. We still had about a half hour before our reservations, so we were just killing time. We then went to just check in and let them know we were there in case they had a table available, and they told us we were welcome to wait at the bar. We went to the bar, to order a drink. I still wasn’t in the mood to drink alcohol (going on 3 days, I was getting worried) so I opted for what was essentially a juice. This was no ordinary juice, however, it was a $14 juice. That’s right, lemonade with passion fruit for $14 and it didn’t even come in a coconut. Annie got a cheap juice for $8. Shortly after they gave us our drinks, they showed us to our table. The menu was not extensive and featured only a handful of entrees and a couple of appetizers. We knew this was going to be our one very nice meal, so I somewhat expected to pay quite a bit. We decided to splurge and get an appetizer which was shrimp won-tons. We shared that with Mel and Rachel, and they shared the crab cakes with us. The food so far was good, but there just wasn’t much of it. When the waiter came to take our order, we all had decided on the same thing. Shrimp, crab and lobster stuffed mahi-mahi in a macadamia nut crust and pineapple coconut reduction. The waiter sold us all on it when he was talking about it. Coincidentally, it was the most expensive thing on the menu. After the main course, I was pretty full, but we just had to get dessert too. I went with the crème brûlée, and Annie the Polynesian black pearl (a mousse dessert with a cookie shell. It looked great). Annie said it was the best thing she ate while we were there. All said and done, after the tip, the bill for the two of us was just shy of $200. I didn't feel bad since we got a free luau that would have cost us the same. The dinner was great, and it was nice to find out the expensive lesson that no matter how well mahi-mahi is cooked, I'll take a cod fillet any day of the week.

The next day was Thursday, and my flu is starting to get better. Mel and Rachel had booked a 5 hour snorkel excursion on a boat to one of the neighboring islands. Annie isn’t the biggest fan of boats, and I decided it would be a good chance for us to go explore a little. So after we dropped the girls off, we drove back up the windy (curvy) road to the blowhole for a while. The trip ended shortly after I couldn’t find what we were looking for and the atmosphere in the car got a bit tense. In silence we drove back to the condo. After a reconciliation we went to the Whaler’s Village which is just a shopping center for tourists. We didn’t find anything worth buying, so we headed to Lahaina to grab lunch and wait for Mel and Rachel’s boat to come in. We ended up eating at Cool Cat’s café, mainly because we were given a free root beer float coupon earlier in the week. It was a 50’s style diner with some great burgers. I hadn’t had a burger since we got there, so I was excited. The food was great, and plentiful, and didn’t even come close to leaving the dent in my wallet that Mama’s did. After lunch, we picked up the girls and on the way back to the car stopped at a place called Annie’s Island Shave Ice. We heard great things about it, so we had to check it out. What they serve is just shaved ice. The closest thing I could compare it to would be a snow cone, but it was way different. It was more like snow, but even more delicate and finer than snow. One could select from a long list of toppings, and each one looked great. I got the mango/papaya mix. It was much sweeter and more flavorful than snow cone syrup. The small was still a huge mound on top of a paper cup, but went fast.

After we returned back to the condo, I think I may have taken another nap, I can’t remember. We had reservations for the magic show that night, so we drove back to Lahaina to grab dinner before the show. We ate at Cilantro’s, a Mexican restaurant right next to the magic show. The food was great, and inexpensive. One thing I thought was pretty cool was as we were walking in, there were big white letters on the window that said BYOB. I knew what that meant, but I didn’t know that’s what it meant this time. Sure enough, this place is “Bring Your Own Booze”. They don’t sell beer, but you can go next door to the little grocery store, buy a beer and bring it back to drink it there.

After dinner we went to the magic show. Now, I can’t really remember going to an actual magic show, so I really didn’t know what to expect, except that that this was billed as a can’t miss show; Warren and Annabelle’s magic show. I’m not really going to go into detail here, because who knows. Maybe someday you’ll want to go to Maui, and if you do, you have to go see this show. The show started with cocktails/ hors d'oeuvres in a little parlor with a piano player that takes requests. After that, we were escorted into a cozy little theatre with only about 6 rows of seats. All together, I think there were about 80 people that could fit in there. The stage was very close, and there wasn’t a bad seat in the house. We got 3rd row center, so we were able to see the show very well. The show consisted of an extremely talented magician that does a lot of sleight of hand type magic with cards, coins etc. He also happens to be hilarious, so comedy is definitely a big part of the show. He works a lot with the crowd, and does some simply amazing tricks. I’m still scratching my head about a lot of the show. At the end, it was a great night, and I’m happy we went.

Friday was our last full day in Hawaii, and we had planned to drive the road to Hana. It’s a very popular route that twists through some of the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen. The problem is the road is straight out of a third world country. You can’t get much faster than 30 (and 5 in some spots), the road is in some places barely wide enough for one car, and there is a stretch of it that is gravel. What makes this trip so special is all of the scenic spots to stop. We saw waterfalls, stopped at a botanical garden, and got banana bread at a little roadside stand (apparently the wrong one, because the banana bread wasn’t the best). We then made it to the little town of Hana, and there isn’t much to report on that. It was a very small town, and if you blink you miss it. After we made it to Hana, we had really no choice but to continue our drive back to the other side of the island where we were staying (going back over the road we already traveled was out of the question). We ended up stopping a little further ahead at what is called the 7 sacred pools. There weren’t 7, and they’re not sacred for anything, but it is a major tourist stop, so we had to check it out. We paid for parking, and hiked down to the pools. I wasn’t expecting what I saw – 4th of July weekend at Lake Almanor. I wish I could accurately describe what I saw, but even my vocabulary falls short on this one. There were easily 100 people there, all in bathing suits, most not belonging in bathing suits, floating around these tiny little pools, and laying out on the rocks. It was one of the most comical sights I’ve seen in my life. There wasn’t anything extraordinary about these pools. I mean, it was pretty enough (without the people, I would imagine anyways) and had a neat waterfall, but there was no reason for this to look like a spring break destination. I suppose the fact that it was easy to get to was main reason there were so many people. We left after a short stay, and headed back home to BBQ the Tri-Tip we bought our first day there. Dinner was great, and it was actually the first night since Sunday that I felt well enough to have a beer (or two…).

Early the next day we left for home. The flight went well, and there wasn’t anything remotely funny that happened on the way back. I can say that I was pretty happy to be back, but mostly because despite the great time I had, I was sick through most of it. At the time, I was glad it was over, but even now as I’m writing this, I’m realizing that it really was a great vacation. I wouldn’t mind going back again someday, but it probably won’t be for a while. It was nice that our last vacation without children was as relaxing as it was.

Intermission

The reason I've decided to post an "intermission" is because I don't have the time, patience or energy to write a full length post at this present time. I promise I will post something about our trip, but I cannot guarantee it will be of the caliber as our honeymoon adventure. Mainly because nothing disastrous happened during this trip. We just had a good time, saw some amazing things, ate some delicious food and learned how to say funny words. I was sick for a couple of days because the flu is going around, but it was all in good fun. Keep an eye out for the aforementioned full length post.

The Latest

It has been a while since I’ve done any updates. I guess at times I end up submitting to the apathy that is always present, but resides just below the surface. There hasn’t really been much to report anyhow.

We found out we’re having a girl, so that’s pretty exciting. Not that it’s a girl, but that we finally know what we’re having so I can start planning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not disappointed; I just didn’t too much care what the gender was. I would have been equally excited if it were a boy. You hear parents all the time say “I don’t care what it is, as long as it’s healthy”, and I always thought it was a load of BS, but now I understand that is 100% true. Our latest ultrasound was pretty wild. It’s probably not always been like this, but I could actually identify what was going on. I could see legs, arms and fingers. We even got to see her little mouth moving. If you had a good enough imagination, you could make out the words she was speaking, which serves as a good reminder that her mother needs to watch her mouth, because she now has ears, and you know how kids like to repeat what they hear. We all know she wouldn’t have picked those words up from me…

Aside from that, I’m just trying to make it through one more week of the ordinary. We’ve been planning our vacation to Hawaii for a while, and now it’s finally only a week away. We’ll be spending a week in Maui, and away from the monotonous day to day life and unappreciative jerks we deal with on a daily basis. Is it a sign I need a new job when I’m already planning next year’s vacation?

Football season is back, and I couldn’t be happier. After about 7 years of pathetic, dismal seasons, the 49ers are actually playing some real football. I guess I forgot how fun it was to watch your team actually win. Over the past 2 years, I’ve slowly developed what is turning into a borderline unhealthy man-crush on arguably the best Linebacker to ever play the game; Patrick Willis. If you’ve never seen this guy play, you should be ashamed of yourself. It’s downright scary he’s only 24 years old and in his 3rd season in the NFL, because he’s doing stuff that 8 or 9 year veterans can’t do. Treat yourself and YouTube this guy (My favorite is the wicked hit on Brad Smith ).

In all likelihood unless someone provokes another blog out of me, you probably won’t be hearing from me until I get back from vacation. However, I don’t foresee that happening since my caring has already taken a vacation.