Counting backwards from nine

Ok, so maybe you picked up on my new theme- and just in case you are dim- 9 months equals the gestation period for a human child. That is right. I am going to be a Father. A Dad. A Poppa. A "Proud Parent" if you will. I think the time is right.

I remember when I was in my twenties, and I got married the first time. My wife and I came up with all sorts of reasons not to have a child. "We want to travel" was one of them, and the rest were basically variations on that theme. It was all about what we would be giving up, and what we would be missing if we settled down. We both agreed that if it happened then we would consider it a good thing and move forward, but I must admit I was still living in a degree of fear. Birth control was in full effect, and in the back of my mind I knew I just didn’t want it to happen. Good thing too, because 3 years later I got divorced. Strangely enough I think I was the person most surprised by that event. If you ask my closest friends you might gather the impression that there was a pool going regarding the eventuality of fate for my first marriage. Nobody really liked Diane for me. We just weren’t a good fit I suppose.

Fortunately the only custody to consider in the split was that of our little dog Romeo- I do miss the little guy, but he was a gift I gave to her and a fight seemed moodt. The day we signed the papers was the last time I laid eyes on Diane. that chapter closed, and the next 5 years adventure began.

As a suitor I have always been a bit quirky. I have had a handful of relationships that panned out poorly, and some that probably could have gone better if not for my own hang-ups. All along I was careful to avoid making promises that went beyond the end of a year.

Then I met Nanigans- and all of that changed pretty immediatly. I loved living alone, but she would stay. As overnights turned into over weeks the progression felt natural, and comfortable. She went from my date to my companion, and co-conspirator. Weeks turned into months, and now a year. We have our struggles, but if I have learned anything from experience it is that everyone struggles. It is how you feel about the person as a whole that really counts. She matches me in passion, wit, and enthusiasm. She has a great heart, and she loves my people. This is important: She readily embraces my friends, and family- and if you know me at all then you know that they are as much a part of my being as my own personality. We fight very little, and we love very much.

I love her.

And now the news- We are going to be 3. Within the next year I will have another person to whom I will owe every responsibility. It isn’t about me anymore, it will be about "us"- and more specifically "them".

There are some who have shunned this reality as yet another of my folly’s. I disagree. Some say that I am not ready- I disagree.

I know this is the right thing because the first thought that entered my mind when the maternity tests came back positive was- "Wow" and the feeling that came with it was pure joy. A smile has come to my consciousness that I can’t really describe. It lives in my mind, and everytime it shows itself you best believe I am thinking about the future, and the potential for great things. It is a revolution of mindset. A baby is no longer something that would hold me back- it is something that will move me forward. It isn’t about what we can’t do- it is about what we will do, and the promise is intoxicating.

I am far from perfect. I realize that there are those of you who probably read my post about my family reunion in San Antonio and wonder how a guy who blacked out and locked himself out of a hotel room after a major drinking binge can be ready for the massive responsibility of parenthood. Well folks- you ought to hear my Dad’s story about the bottle of Mezcal, and how he accidentally shaved off half his mustache. That was just an episode in lifes adventure. Many of you know of my episodes- some of them are legendary. I am still pleased to have played my part, for better or for worse. I am likely to continue to folly as I grow as a person, but that isn’t the complete reflection of my paternal abilities.

Fortunately I know that being a parent doesn’t require perfection- what it requires of a father is desire, intent, and dedication. I have those qualities. I am so enthusiastic I can hardly contain myself as the next chapter is beginning.

Let the countdown commence...

Got into a fight this morning...

I bumped into a guy while I was getting off the train. I had been listening to my iPod, and reading a headline on my newspaper and just wasn't watching where I was going.

So I am walking along, and I bump into this guy and knock him down. Yeah, well, I could NOT believe it. He was a DWARF! and you know how you sometimes just-get-sooo-stressed and life-stuff seems to get funny?

He gets up and brushes himself off, looks up at me with anger in his eys and says, "I AM NOT HAPPY!"

So, I look down at him and simply say, "Well, which one are you then?"

... and that's how the fight started.

Ghost Ridin the Delorean...

Doc Brown gets 1.22 Jigga what?!?!'s



I saw this and orange juice came out of my nose- swear to God,

P

DUI and the Public drunk

Sometimes it is easy to go out, knock back a couple in a responsible manner and then lay off for a while so you can feel ok about driving home.

It is the same basic plan a lot of my peers used to go by when I lived in TX. Cabs, and public transportation weren't all that readily available in Plano. If you have ever been there you will understand- it is a huge suburb, but taxi services are Dallas based, and they aren't readily available. We would usually have a few beers, tempered with some food (usually pizza, nachos, or wings) then head out of the bar for the short drive home.

Until the night my roomate and I got busted.

We had stopped off to grab a quick bite and a few games of Golden Tee, over a few after work beers on a Thursday night. We split a decent sized pizza while we played, and then headed out to the jeep for the short trip home. I have been drunk on numerous occasions, and I am comfortable saying, this wasn't one of them. I can say the same of my roomate whom I have known, and drank with for over 13yrs since we were fraternity brothers in college.

We drove on a main route, no weaving, no speeding. Police followed us onto our street and we got pulled over 5 houses down from our own- on suspicion of "drag racing" (we were in a 4 cylinder Jeep Wrangler, and there weren't any other cars around us)

the officers first question was if we had anything to drink that evening- after that it was pretty mechanical- My buddy refused the breathalizer (based on some bad advice he was given by a street lawyer years before), he was arrested and placed in the patrol car before I could even blink. I was then asked to step out of the vehicle. The officers asked if I had anything to drink- I thought they were going to ask me to drive the jeep home, so I said "yes, I had a few drinks, but will not be driving" I was then zip tied, and placed in a second patrol car so they could charge me with public drunkeness. I was not offered a sobriety test, or a breathalizer. In TX and officer makes the determination of your degree of "drunkeness" no tests required. 1 month until my 30th birthday I was being detained for the first time in my life, and it wasn't even for one of the times I had been boldly shit-faced...

I was upset.

We ended up staying overnight in borrowed orange pajamas from the Hotel Plano- I was released the following morning with a summary offense charge, and a court date. I appeared in court 3 months later to challenge, but the officers recording of me saying (in perfect intonation: no slurring) that "I had a few drinks" was enough to uphold my citation- I was fined $200 some odd dollars + fees.

My Roomate got shipped to the county jail the following morning. I bonded him out as soon as possible, but it took several hours for them to "process" him in, and then back out of their system. He then became entangled in the arduous, and expensive legal process required to avoid a jail sentence.

Plano TX hates DUI offenders- here is the dance

step 1- hire a lawyer- pay out $$$
step 2- go to court- attorney will engage in the legal wrangling to try and get a "deal"
step 3- "the deal" in this case = Probation, loss of license 1yr- (do NOT refuse breathalizer), DWI "education" courses, victim impact sessions, fines, community service hours, and then continuing "surcharge" payments to the state of roughly $100 per month for 3 years after reinstatement. After all is said and done, a couple of beers and a pizza cost my friend nearly 10k.

In the months after the incident I spoke to a waitress from the bar we had been in. She told me that the officer who arrested us made a habit of hanging out in the area, and that our story was very similar to others she had heard. We had been "trapped".

There are those who would say "good- you got what you deserved", but for those people I have some perspective- Most restaurants that serve alcohol have a parking lot. If you go out to dinner and have a drink or two with dinner then drive home you are every bit as guilty as we were. Think about that next time you order a nice red wine to compliment your steak.

It has been a few years now, and I have reflected on what happened- here is what I got out of it.

We broke the law. There isn't any way around it. There can't be a varience for the degree to which we broke the law. In my years as a bar tender I had seen people pound beers all night yet never appear "impaired", I have also seen grown men get absolutly wasted after a few glasses of wine on an empty stomach. The fact is you just can't drink and drive without a degree of risk. The best solution to that risk is to not take it. Can I be pissed at the officer for "stalking" the parking lot? sure, but in reality wasn't he just doing his job? If you are looking for criminals, is it not a good idea to look where crimes are being commited?

Lesson learned: It isn't worth it.

I still like to go out for drinks, but I live in Chicago now- we have public transport readily available, and that is all I use. If I lived somewhere like Plano again- I would need to plan accordingly. No excuses.

I was still pissed about my "not really drunk in public" fine, even though it seemed like a small penance compared to what my roomate went through.

I got a tip from the bail bondsman when I went to pick up the bond to get my friend out: If a police officer asks if you have had anything to drink- be polite, follow any instructions you are given, but keep your mouth shut. Don't nod, don't shake your head- don't speak.
You might still get arrested, but it is hard to charge you without evidence.

Makin Chili Bitches...

As I get older I have become fascinated with annual events. The gathering of friends at designated times of the year to indulge in friendly competition. One of those annual events is "The Chili Cook-Off"- sponsored by my friend Fuzzy, and His Wife, whom I will refer to as Mrs. Fuxxy (an inside joke that I can't really explain, and have it seem funny to an outsider).

Last year I introduced the world to Cobra- a unique chili creation. I talked a lot of shit about my culinary skill, and it was warranted: I won the overall competition at the Second Annual Chili Cook-Off.
For the past year, the coveted Blue Ribbon has resided upon my kitchen wall, and as this years competition swiftly approaches I feel compelled to up my game. This is largely due to the fact that I emerged victorious from the vacuum created by the fact that the previous years cook-off champion did not compete. Captain Dogg, and his notorious chili- (good stuff to be sure) was the overall winner the first year, but the Captain could not be present during the second cook-off due to a sad loss of a loved one, and a need to travel to be with the family.
As a result, my championship defense maintains an element of under-dog status. the Paper Champion vs. The Salty Vet. Can I emerge victorious, and justify my previous accomplishment, or will I fade, and drop tears in my beer like Drew has for the past two events...


Here are the Catagories-

1. Best in Show (overall award for plating and presentation)
2. Chili with the most HEART-INESS (Best use of the Bean)
3. Prettiest Crockpot (a competition favorite)
4. Five Alarm (which chili is too hot to handle?)
5. Most Innovational (best use of artistic licensewith a focus on the ingredients chosen)
6. Best Variation on a Chili (a non-beef category)
7. BEST OVERALL FLAVOR (The Blue Ribbon Category!!!)

I am shooting to ace catagories 1,2,3,5, and 7, although I think under the rules I can only win one.

I began this odyssey by taking on a partner. Shananigans is my willing compatriot. I decided to alter my approach to Chili cook-off success. I may have won last year, but a warrior never comes at you the same way twice, so I need to alter my game.

We are going with a Fresh is Better approach- and my pre-game preparation began last night.

Presentation plan? Check
Hearty base? Check
Reliable spice? Check
Girlfriend decorating the crockpot according to Blue Ribbon / Cobra Theme? Check
Secret ingredient? Check
Taste? Me Thinks so...

We shall see how this all pans out in next weeks entry.

Wish me luck!

[Edit to name result 2/4]

We won "Most Heart-iness"- and I think a 3rd overall in taste. Tatters is the new champ- my hat is off to him, his contender was very tasty.

I am already thinking about next year... What can I do with booze?

Car Story

My Dad says I loved cars before I even knew what they were. When I was 3 or 4 I climbed out of bed and went out to our detached garage. Dad found me fast asleep with my blanket in the cubby area behind the seats of his 1977 Corvette. Dad is a car guy, so we had a lot of cool cars as I grew up. My first memories are of my Mothers 1971 Mustang Mach 1, my Dads K-series Blazers, and our Corvette. My Dads best friend had a Porsche 911 that he kept in our garage, and we had a 1970 or so MGB at one point. We had a lot of "3rd cars" as I grew up because Dad was in sales and was given company cars to drive on his routes throughout Western Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and Michigan. We actually "owned" 2 cars, and the third would be a company vehicle. Dad sure took care of those though, I remember he used to pull the wire wheel covers off the company cars, and take all the spokes out in order to run them through our dishwasher, then he would polish all the spokes as he put the hub caps back together. He is the real deal when it comes to detailing, and our NSX is just further proof of how far he will go. Dad has always worked in sales of industrial lubricants, hydraulic fluids, and coolants for the Tool and Die industry for as long as I can remember. It was pretty cool to go along with him on his trips. I got to tour all kinds of cool factories all over the midwest. When we would go out on the road I would bide my time on the highway by identifying cars, and badging. I am observant by nature so I quickly began to note the subtle differences in tail light configurations, paint schemes, wheels, and exhaust. Somewhere in my mind I began cataloging all that data. I can't look at a car today without analyzing it to determine what year and model I am looking at.
I mowed lawns from the time I was 13, and my Dad used to have my customers pay by check. He would take my checks and deposit them, and then give me part of the money to spend, along with my tips. I also got a decent allowance for household chores- which included washing the family cars once a week- even in the dead of a Cleveland winter. At that time my Stepmother had a gorgeous deep blue 1988 BMW 325i coupe. The car had a 5-speed, so Dad taught me 2 gears. Reverse to back out of the garage, and 1st to pull back in. In Winter I would back a car out of the garage and then maneuver the other into the middle and wash / wax the car in the heated garage. At that time we had a 2 and a half car garage, the Bimmer, a Suzuki 750 motorcycle from the early 70's, and a Lincoln Mark VII with a Paxton S/C (I used to call it the executive fighter jet- that car had a button for everything) I honed my skills detailing those cars.
My Stepmother was an exec with Blue Coral Inc. (car wax) and the company owner Mr. Adelman had a decent collection of cars. On many occasions My stepmother would bring home Mr. Adelman's cars and Dad and I would go to work on them. I recall a Mercedes 600 AMG- a huge white monster with AMG Hammer wheels, he had an assortment of Mercedes 500 convertibles over the years, a Porsche 928, and a Ferrari Mondial Convertible. I worked on all of these, and they were generally pretty rough- Mr. Adelman's wife was a 2-footed driver, so brake dust in the wheels was pretty thick, but my smaller fingers could get inside the small slots in the wheels to clean them.
In Jr. High I developed a fascination with Corvettes. I was captivated by the subtle differences in the mid-year models. The ways you could tell a 64 from a 65, or a 66, (63's and 67's were always obvious) The powertrain options, FI, Dual Quads, and Tri-Power- The Bill Mitchell history, and Zora Arkus-Duntov. In interesting bit of trivia- as much as I love, and respect the Corvette- I have never driven one. I had the opportunity to drive a C6 once at a GM Drive event in Houston- I drove the Cadillac CTS-V instead. A month later I was driving home from work and I came upon a C6 in traffic. It dawned on me that I had NEVER driven a Corvette, and that I was an idiot for passing on that opportunity. I called Dad immediatly and we had a laugh, and agreed I should definitly drive one, and I should make it a point to do so. I still haven't done it- but I am always looking for an opportunity.
When I turned 16 my Dad produced the deposit book for my bank account and I had just shy of $5k to use to buy a car. We had a deal that Dad would either match me dollar for dollar for a car, and I would pay all of my own insurance, or I could buy a car and he would pay half my insurance. I immeadiatly set my heart on a 1968 Camaro hotrod for sale up the street. The car was just beyond my reach financially, so I would need to invoke the dollar matching agreement- so we priced insurance. 16yr old + 1968 Camaro SS (the car had a non original 396 and Muncie 4-speed in it). The insurance man squashed my dreams. Dad and I came to terms on a 1988 Honda Accord LXi cpe, and my recently divorced Dad came to terms with the cars female owner. They actaully got married about 5 months later, and are still married today. Cathy is a big Honda fan, and it quickly rubbed off on Dad- He hasn't bought anything but Hondas in the 16 years they have been married, and the garage currently houses an 05 MDX, and 06 RL and our 94 NSX (our second NSX- the first was a 91).We then moved from Cleveland to Chicago, and our relationship was strained to the point where I left my car and moved to Pennsylvania to live with my Mom. I promptly aquired a 1979 Pontiac Firebird (affectionatly referred to as "The Chicken") I got my V8, and liability insurance. i had a few misadventures in that car, and eventually blew the Pontiac 301. I replaced it with a Chevy 350 (BLASPHEME!) out of an old police cruiser. My Mom's boyfriend at the time owned a cab company, and he bought up old cop cars to convert into cabs. I worked in the maintainence garage with his mechanic repainting the black and white cruisers yellow, and doing brake jobs, tune-ups, and gas tank replacements. He gave me the engine for free, and we did the swap in the garage. I think the engine had 200k on it when I got it, but it got the job done. On a school snowday 3 of my friends and i were out in the chicken drifting (literally) and the 350 sucked a valve. I was able to hobble the car home, but it was never "right" again. I sold it for what I paid for it and moved on. I bought an 5-speed Ford Tempo Cpe we called "The Bud Mobile"- and I drove that until graduation. I sold the Tempo, and Dad helped me buy another 88 Honda Accord LXi Cpe to take to college.
I elected to take a semester off first, and then sold the car when I went away to school in January- I was going to college and wanted to focus on the important things rather than work to pay auto insurance. So I went to school, and promptly partied my way right out.After a year and a half, the university kindly asked me to move on, so i went home to Pittsburgh and got a job as security supervisor in my Mom's office building. I bought her 1991 Ford Escort LX- which I named "Milk"- I had already flogged that poor car relentlessly while in highschool, and that little Mazda motor kept on winding away. I took Milk back to school with me, where I promptly flunked out again, but I DID meet my future wife.
This time I got all responsible, and got a job selling Volkwagens. I came into VW at the "right time" the New Beetle was in it's second year, and the New Jettas were selling as fast as we could get them. I was making really good money, and my new wife was a Registered Nurse, so she was doing well too. I promptly leased a brand new 99 Honda Accord sedan.
Things were going well, but the owner of my dealership decided to sell the VW franchise to another dealer. I ended up getting shuffled over to his new Hyundai franchise, the victim of a non-compete agreement that prevented me from leaving to go with VW.I left and went to Honda. At Honda I was the young gun in the showroom the "Wiz Kid". People like dealing with me, and i did a decent volume. I mainly sold Accords, Civics, and Odyssey's, but that picture on the wall of my (now EX) Wife and the 1991 NSX always got peoples attention that i was interested in the less mundane autos. To fill my need I focused on the Civic Si, the Prelude SH, and the beautiful Honda Accord Coupe from 1998-2002. You can imagine- when the S2000 came out it was love at first site. I poured over the technical specs, absorbing every detail about the suspension, the high X-bone chassis, and the 240hp 2.0 4 cylinder with a 9000 RPM redline. When the first one arrived at our dealership, I drove it from the truck back to storage. I helped our lead car-prep unwrap it, and I took it to PDI. I subsequently sold 4 of our 5 car allocation for sticker price (no gauging).
I wanted to go back to school, the owner of the dealership wanted me to stay. He made me a finance manager for the autogroup, and my income nearly doubled.
I still wanted to go back to school, so I paid my bills off, and I went. I also got rid of my wifes aweful Dodge Neon, and bought my Integra GSR.
The decision to leave a blossoming career has haunted me a few times, and it ultimately cost me my marriage, but I did go back and this time I graduated with a 3.0 GPA. a year or so after graduation I sold the integra and bought a used Lexus. After a year and a half with the Lexus I was rear ended by a jack ass in a Lincoln Aviator. I was stopped in traffic and he rear-ended me going 65 mph. all those safety design elements I had pitched so often to my car sales customers- crumplezones, and safety glass did their work, and I stepped from my ruined ES300 nearly unscathed.
Irony? I was on my way to take the Texas Insurance Licensing exam at the time of the collision.
Dad found me my 99 Accord Coupe near his home in Houston. The insurance settlement from the Lexus paid for the Accord, and then some. 6 months later i got the job offer that put me where I am today. Making the same money I was making in the car biz.
Now I am looking for a BMW E36 M3, or an S2000 to make my own...

To be continued..

More Slo-Mo Goodness

Call me obsessed- I am really into slow motion lately.

I think I am attracted to the deliberateness of the action- somehow the fact that it is happeneing so gradually, and is so relentless, and inevitable. Each frame of motion is so purposeful.

It is inspiring.